#they better not charge per mouth either I’d be pissed

[bludpudding]

How would it go if the Corinthian went to the dentist? like seriously asking....🙏🏼

to start off, we know that his teeth are always perfectly straight and white (if they aren’t drawn like blender blades [incorrect]), so there’s two ways this could go.

1. his teeth never get dirty and therefore he doesn’t need to take care of them. he can just lick any blood or residue off and call it a day.

2. he sees a dentist in the dreaming regularly (absolutely cannot use a human dentist) and keeps them in perfect shape the same way a human would.

or he just has like veneers or something idk

this nightmare country cover is most likely a one off gag but if we take it seriously, which I am known to do, it would imply that he actually does have to take care of his teeth. also I just like the idea of him having his own official toothpaste.

it’s highly unlikely for him to ever have any problems such as cavities or gum disease so while yes he can bleed and feel physical pain, going to the dentist would not be painful for him. I can see how it would be emotionally taxing, though. he doesn’t like to show his eyes and having someone poke around inside of them would probably send him over the edge. ESPECIALLY if it’s second Cori we’re talking about here. the bitch will bite if he feels threatened. all the more reason to have a dreamkin dentist who can take care of something like that.

y’know how dentists always try to talk you when they already have their tools in your mouth? that’s not a problem for him because he has three. professional yapper he can’t be stopped

[kingdaddydaichi]

can i request consensual hate sex between bakugou and f!reader

Oooooh yassssss! This idea got better and better the more I thought about it, Nonny. Love it! I hope you enjoy this naughty little slice of grudge fuck pie. 💖

Riding The Fine Line 💥 Katsuki Bakugou x f!reader 💥 NSFW

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT or I'll have my Big Scary BoomBoom Man blow your little ass up!

Word Count: 2k

"Oi! Who picked this shitty restaurant anyway?", Bakugou sneered as he walked towards the table.

You rolled your eyes and mumbled, "Oh look, Gorilla Man is here".

"Watch it, shitty girl. M'not in the mood for your shit tonight".

You'd made plans earlier in the week to meet Kiri and Mina for dinner. You knew Bakugou had been invited too, but after having suffered through it so many times over the past year or so of having some friends in common, you somehow managed to tolerate his presence. It helped that the drink you'd been sipping on made him somewhat less intolerable than usual.

It was like nails down a chalkboard every time Bakugou reared his big dumb head. His only redeeming quality was that he was quite easy on the eyes. Shame that such a hot guy is also such a huge asshole.

He's always given everyone a hard time, but unlike most people, you just wave a dismissive hand at him. And it makes him crazy. He doesn’t understand why he doesn’t get under your skin like he so easily does others. Oh, he annoys the piss out of you to be sure, but he doesn't hurt your feelings per se.

"Y'know, for such a massive ego yours sure is delicate, you meat head".

"Oh yeah? Well, for such a massive ass yours s-"

"God, Bakugou, do you ever just shut up?", you snipped.

Kiri and Mina both jumped in, laughing nervously and smoothing things over to lower the tension. He growled at you. You flipped him a subtle bird before looking away and trying to ignore him.

💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

Kiri's birthday was approaching and several of his friends decided to throw him a surprise birthday party. You, Denki, Mina, and ugh, as luck would have it, Bakugou, were are all put in charge of decorating his house while some other friends took him out for dinner. Midway through, Mina whined while sorting through various sacks, "Oh no! We forgot the disposable rainbow shot glasses!" Mina had a way of putting a cute touch on everything she had her hands in. Denki offered to go with Mina to procure the missing miniature party cups, leaving you and Bakugou alone to hang streamers in Kiri's living room. Probably not the wisest of decisions, but consider the source. 👀

It didn't take long after they were gone for Bakugou to start in on you with his bullshit. Only this time no one was around to referee. You groaned. This was going to be a free for all. You'd already both cut eyes at each other a couple of times.

"You're not doing it right, dumbass!"

"That's a matter of opinion and you can shove yours up your ass, dumbass".

He flipped you off saying, "You can shove this up your ass!", then turned back to his task.

You were so done. Without thinking, you reared back and hurled the roll of streamers as hard as you could, nailing him right in the back of the head. Damn, it felt good.

He whipped around, a vein popping out of his forehead, clenching his teeth. You were quite proud of your aim until he made little explosions in his free hand and said, "You're really pushing your luck with me, woman! If we weren't in Kiri's house right now I'd blast you right through that fucking wall!"

"Pfft, whatever! You wouldn't do shit. You're all bark and no bite, you fucking douche canoe!"

"You ever stop to think that maybe if you weren't such a bitch guys might actually want to talk to you?"

That did it. He'd finally found one of your hot buttons and you couldn't take his shit anymore. You marched right up to him and got right up in his face, height difference be damned.

"You know what, fuck you, Bakugou! I'm not normally like this! You're the only person who…drives me to this madness!", you spat with tears in your eyes.

A second later, his hands were on either side of your face, crashing his lips down onto yours. You were so shocked you froze before pulling away from him, staring at him in astonishment. He just stood there, huffing, glaring back at you, waiting.

You stepped forward and pushed him, his back hitting the wall, hard. But before he could protest, your lips were on his again. He grabbed you by your arms and spun you around, pinning you against the wall. You slipped your tongue past your open mouth, his meeting yours halfway as he pushed his knee between your legs. He pressed his thigh against your sex, shoving his growing cock against your thigh in the process.

Taking the bottom of his shirt into two fistfuls, you eagerly pushed it up to his chest, exposing his washboard abs and god-like pecs. He quickly pulled it over his head and threw it to the floor while your shaky hands got busy with his belt and zipper, urgently, like you couldn't get to him soon enough. But his will took over when he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head so he could peel your shirt off. He dipped down to take a mouthful of your tit, cupping what he couldn't fit in his rough hand, swirling his tongue around your nipple, sucking, then releasing you from the inside of his mouth to flick the tip of his tongue over your pink nub. You grabbed two handfuls of his ash blond locks and arched your back off the wall as he gave your other breast the same treatment.

You impatiently tugged on his hair, hungry for the taste of his sweet lips again. Your tongues once again fought for dominance and you gasped when he picked you up in one swift movement. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you to Kiri's bedroom, swinging the door shut behind him before slamming your back against it.

"Put me down", you said forcefully.

He stopped sucking on your neck long enough to rasp, "And why the fuck should I?"

"Because I want to get into your fucking pants, asshole".

For once you two agreed on something and with your feet back on the floor, you got back to work on his pants before reaching in and wrapping your hand around his hot dick. Shit, you could barely get your fingers all the way around it, it was so thick. You stroked him a couple of times before pulling him out, exposing his manhood in all of its mouth-watering glory.

He ran his hand down his sculpted stomach, spreading his fingers to either side of his girth. "Like what you see?" You realized you were staring at his dick and the pre that dripped from it.

"Wouldn't you like to know?", you sassed.

He growled and spun you around, pushing your front against the wall and swiftly closing in behind you. Wisps of your (color) hair fluttered around his hot breath as he breathed down your neck. "You keep on tryin' to hide it, but you want me just as much as I want you, princess, and I'm gonna make an honest girl outta ya".

His battle-hardened hands found their way down your back, around your waist and all the way to your belly before he slid them down, his fingers reaching below your waistband. You willed him to push his hands further down, pressing your backside against his erection. He used one deft hand to unbutton your pants and work your zipper down, granting himself better access. When he mercifully slipped his middle finger between your folds, you couldn't choke back the moan that emerged from the back of your throat.

"Damn", he growled behind your ear, "for someone who can't stand me, your pussy sure is wet for me".

"Shut up", you gritted through your teeth.

The feeling of the rough pad of his finger teasing your swollen clit nearly sent you over the edge. But it was short-lived and you whined when he pulled his hand away to shove your pants down around your ankles, accompanied by your damp panties. Your hands slid down the wall as he yanked your ass back towards him. You hung your head and watched the head of his cock as Bakugou fucked your thighs, back and forth over your slit, coating his fat cock with your slick, readying himself.

When he began pushing into you, your legs shook from the sheer pressure as he slowly filled you up. When he bottomed out, he held himself still, at least considerate enough to give you time to adjust to his size. He waited until you started grinding against him before grabbing your hips, and slowly withdrawing.

"Now let's see if I can fuck all that hate for me out of you". Before you could retort, he slammed his cock back into you, your pitiful cry mixed with his loud groan echoing off the walls of Kiri's bedroom. He set his pace, steady and hard, the cold buckle of his open belt pressing into your skin with every crash of his hips.

"Yeah, who knows? Maybe if you'd get your dick wet every once in a while you wouldn't act like one", you quipped, voice faltering as he pounded into you.

He slowed his pace to bend over you, pushing your hair out of the way before biting down on the nape of your neck.

"Oww!! What the fuck?!"

He stood up straight again, laughing and said, "All bark and no bite, hah? You just hadn't pushed me far enough yet!" The sweet and salty mixture of his sweat and your need could be heard with every loud slap of his skin against yours.

"Fuck! Bakugou-", you whined in spite of yourself.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and gave it a firm tug. "When're ya gonna stop callin' me by m'last name and call me Katsuki instead?"

"When you stop acting like a raging asshole towards me", you managed as he fucked the breath out of you.

"Brave words for someone in such a compromising position. Now - say - my - fucking - name!". Each word came with its very own plunge of his cock into your mess of a cunt.

Your legs started to give out. "Katsuki!" You hadn't meant to obey him, but he'd kept his word and made you honest.

"That's better". You could hear the smirk in his voice after hearing his first name fall from your quivering lips.

You turned to face him when he pulled out, kissing him hard, his fingers going into your hair. You inched backwards onto the bed, Katsuki crawling in towards you with a primal look in his crimson eyes before nestling his thighs between yours and sheathing himself deep inside you again. Your head rolled back as you arched your back off the bed. Gods, the feeling of him filling you up was quickly becoming your new favorite sensation.

He nuzzled his face against your neck as he rutted into you, pulling your thigh up to his hip bone, raking his teeth against your skin. His breathing had become more labored and he started thrusting faster, your pleasure mounting with the increased friction of his pubic bone against your clit until rays of bliss shot out from every pore of your skin at the speed of light.

"K-ka-tsuki, I'm c-cumming hahh oh goddd!" The pulsating grip that you had on him finally sent him to his end as well, growling your name and cursing between clenched teeth, burying himself deep inside you as he unloaded rope after thick rope of his white hot cum into your snug, soft warmth.

"Seems Shitty Hair’s gonna get more than one surprise tonight", Katsuki said, catching his breath.

You laughed so hard that Katsuki hissed at the feeling of your walls squeezing his sensitive cock so soon after his orgasm.

"You still hate me?", he asked, brushing his lips against yours, supporting his weight with his elbows.

"Hmm...that depends", you said thoughtfully, tracing the cut of his back muscles with your fingertips.

"On what?"

"On whether or not you'd still fuck me if I don't hate you".

He smirked. "I'd still hit it even if you love me", he whispered, showing his softer side as he kissed you, smiling.

[thatfanficstuff]

Impossible - 21

Pairing: Eric Northman x Reader

Warnings: Nan Flanagan

A/N: *looks at Godric suspiciously* He's up to something.

***

When you woke you found yourself in bed, laying between two vampires who were quite literally dead to the world. Despite that, you felt safe and loved. You smiled and took the opportunity to do inventory of your injuries. You seemed to be fully healed. At the very least you were a damn sight better than you’d been when you passed out. You spared a second to wonder if you would have survived had Godric not been there to give you his blood.

You turned to face the vampire in question to find him laying so he faced you. You trailed a finger down his face to trace his profile. A ghost of a smile curved his lips. It must be nearly sundown which meant you needed to get ready for the night.

You climbed over Eric to get out of the bed and pressed a kiss to his cheek on your way by. His hand brushed your leg. A glance at the clock confirmed that sunset wasn’t far off. You grabbed your phone from the nightstand where it was charging and headed into the bathroom to clean up. You scrolled through the texts from your father as you turned on the shower so it would warm up. “Shit,” you said as you read his latest text. Nan Flanagan would be here within the hour. God, you hated that bitch. Your father called her a necessary evil.

You responded to let him know that you were awake and healed. You also provided a summary of the events and who was responsible before Nan got his ear. After tossing your phone on the counter, you climbed into the shower and scrubbed yourself clean which took longer than you liked. Only when the water ran completely clear did you shut it off. When you got out, you wrapped yourself in one of the robes on the back of the door.

The bed was empty when you opened the door to go back into the bedroom. You quickly dressed in a pair of black jeans with a red top and your boots. You fixed your hair as best you could without drying it. You simply didn’t have the time. When you left the bedroom, you found Eric and Godric both waiting for you along with breakfast.

Eric was by your side in a flash. “How are feeling?”

“Good, thanks to the both of you.” You hugged him and gave him a quick kiss before releasing him to eat.

“Hello, Godric,” you greeted with a smile. He merely smiled in return. “When are we meeting with Nan?”

“How did you…your father,” Eric said. “Ten minutes.”

“She doesn’t know I’m here. Don’t tell her.”

“Are you not planning on attending?” Godric asked with a frown.

“Oh, I am, but if she realizes I’m there she’ll be on her best behavior. I’d rather catch the bitch causing trouble.”

Eric chuckled. “Should I even ask how you intend to keep her from seeing you?”

You pursed your lips. “Probably not.” You finished your breakfast and ducked back into the bedroom to grab your necklace. You slipped it on and smiled at the other two. “All right. Just don’t talk to me until I speak and we might be good to go.”

The amulet you wore had been gifted to you by a witch. It didn’t disguise you or anything, it simply made it more likely you’d be overlooked. The three of you arrived at the room where the meeting would take place. You stood along the wall in the shadows and kept your head down. Sure enough, Nan came into the room and her gaze moved right over you without pausing.

You smirked and pulled out your phone to hit record in case there was an issue later. Nan lied like it was crucial to her survival. Your father claimed that’s what made her so good at PR. He probably had a point. She didn’t give anyone a chance to say anything before she started in.

“Do you have any idea of the PR mess you’ve created? And who has to clean that shit up? Me. Not you. Me. I should drain everyone of you bastards,” she spat out. You rolled your eyes. As if she had the authority.

“Stan acted on his own. None of us had anything to do with the attack on the church,” Eric said.

“Oh, yes, because no one could have possibly predicted that Stan Baker would attack humans. Especially not his nest mates.”

“And how were we supposed to know that this time he meant it?” Isabel defended.

“Not my problem. Yours,” Nan said with a lifted brow and a glare at Godric.

You crossed your arms over your chest and glared at the back of Nan’s head. Why was she always such a raging bitch? Couldn’t she talk to anyone with respect? And if she knew that Stan was a threat, why didn’t she take care of it? Her logic was flawed, as per usual.

Eric was apparently done with her shit as well. “Don’t talk to him that way.”

“Don’t talk to me that way. Do you enjoy being Sheriff? Because I can take it all away.” The arrogance in her voice pissed you off more than anything. Well, that and she was threatening your mate.

His lip curled in irritation. “You don’t have the authority.”

“I’m on TV try me.” She turned her attention to Godric. “How did they capture you?”

Godric’s gaze flicked to you and back to her. “They would have caught one of us eventually. I offered myself.” Oh, and didn’t that make your heart hurt. You suspected, but to hear him admit to it was too much. Eric’s face reflected your own thoughts.

“Why?” the bitch asked in disbelief.

“Why not?” your friend responded.

“They wanted you to meet the sun and you didn’t care?”

Godric simply stared at her without responding. Finally, Nan scoffed. “You’re fired.”

“You cold bitch,” Eric responded while Isabel tried to get Godric to fight for his position. You glanced at your phone and pressed an icon before sliding it back into your pocket.

“Listen, Viking—” she started until you stepped from the shadows and interrupted.

“Stan Baker was to blame for the attack on the church,” you said and Nan’s eyes went wide as she paled ever so slightly. Her gaze moved from you to where you’d been standing and back. She was wondering how the hell she had missed you being in the room. “He was killed in the subsequent attack on Godric’s private residence. The Authority was aware of the danger Stan posed and had already ordered his execution. The order unfortunately could not be carried out prior to the attack.”

Her jaw was tight and her eyes were cold. She didn’t like you any more than you liked her. “That’s your failing, not mine. Someone needs to take the blame and as Sheriff of the area, Godric is the best candidate.”

You took a step forward and narrowed your gaze. “You are a glorified mouthpiece. You don’t get to throw someone under the bus to make your job easier. The fucking humans don’t know about all this shit anyway. You’re supposed to find the truth, not make it up as you go along. You don’t get to decide if people live or die. You don’t get to threaten to take away someone’s territory for defending themselves or someone else. If you weren’t such a power hungry, raging bitch maybe they wouldn’t have to.”

“You don’t even work for the Authority anymore,” she said, but she sounded unsure. “Why do you care?”

“Because you’re not doing your job, Nan. I literally moved from area to area to make sure everyone was doing their job. What makes you think you can get away with it if no one else can? Because there’s no one to dispute you? No way for anyone to tell the Authority what you did? And if they could why would they believe them over you, right?” You pursed your lips in thought before shaking your head. “You’re abusing your position. That pisses me off. It pisses me off even more when you do it to my friends. So, here’s how this is going to go. Godric, without admitting any culpability, resigns his position as Sheriff and will be relocating to Louisiana. Isabel will take over as Sheriff. She’s level headed and had nothing to do with any of this.”

She stood then, fists at her sides as she glared at you. Eric and Godric both stood as well, taking position behind you and to either side. “Who do you think you are? You can’t dictate to me.”

The corner of your mouth lifted into a smirk as you pulled out your phone. “You’re absolutely right. But he can.” You handed her the phone and her face twisted into confusion. When your father started to speak her eyes darted back up to meet yours. She didn’t speak, only handing you the phone when she finished. You slid it back into your pocket.

Her eyes never left you though she spoke to the room as a whole. “Stan Baker is responsible for the attack on the church which caused the subsequent bombing. Godric holds no blame for any of the events that occurred. His resignation is accepted as is his relocation to Louisiana. Isabel Beaumont shall report to the king of Texas to be sworn in as the new Sheriff.”

She walked past all of you and out of the room. Once she was gone, everyone looked to you. Godric turned you to face him and laid a hand along the side of your face. “How did you accomplish that, little one?”

“I would like to know that as well,” Isabel echoed.

Eric smirked and placed a kiss on the top of your head. “She is Y/N. That is all you need know.”

[17wishbones]

Like I said! A couple of days later and the next chapter is here! I’m going to add a few more after this. I happen to be enjoying writing this short series about him so much that... I may make a sequel to this! I underestimated my immediate love for him in the movie and just... I AM RUINED!!

- - - - - - -                                       Chapter V: Glowing with Pride

“Good morning, everyone!” Rengoku greeted as he came in for the meeting, the last to arrive behind Shinazugawa. “Good morning, my Sunflower!” He clasped your hands and kissed you on your forehead. Shinazugawa groaned in the back.

“Aww, look at you two! You’re both beaming this morning!” Mitsuri complimented.

“Thank you! You’re looking good today, too!”

You both fawned back and forth over another as Rengoku stood next to you with his hand pressed on the small of your back, making you tingle on the inside as you replayed this morning’s scenario in your head.

Rengoku had a way with his mouth. He almost made you late meeting up with Shinobu this morning.

“Hey, Rengoku!” Tenged addressed him, “I’m thinking about heading out tonight for a little fun.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun!”

“Yep, but it’s a boy’s night!”

You frowned. “Aww, what? Seriously? We get a little time off and now I can’t even go on an outing?”

“Next time when you and my good friend here seal the deal! Then you can meet my lovely wives!”

Rengoku gave you an “I don’t have to go if you want me to stay here” look and you decided against your selfishness. “Go and have fun. I can’t have all of you to myself.” - ‘Even though I want to.’

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’ll have the boys and Nezuko to keep me company. Got news that they’re on their way back today. I’ve missed them!”

“Okay! They’ll keep you company until I come back home!”

The meeting commenced as soon as the doors opened. As per protocol, everyone knelt and bowed down in respect to Lord Ubuyashiki. Meetings were held every six months but this was urgent.

“My children, as you may or may not know, _____ peered into Muzan’s keep.” 

Everyone, save for Rengoku, stared at you in disbelief. And it wasn’t long until Shinazugawa spoke out. “We need to charge Osaka and strike when the iron is hot! Kill them before they can kill us!”

“You’ll die before you reach them.” 

You and Shinazugawa locked eyes. “Die!? What makes you think I’ll let myself die to some demons!?”

“In his domain, you’re fish food.”

“What?” He hissed.

You stood up and faced him, speaking slowly. “You. Will. Die.” You looked him up and down, tired of his shenanigans. “To be honest, I’m not sure if you’d even be missed.” How desperately you wanted to grasp your sword and strike him.

“Why, you annoying b-”

Rengoku stood before you, halting your advances toward Shinazugawa who growled with want for a battle. “I’d respectfully watch my tongue if I were you!” He looked between you and him. “And as you both know, it’s a violation for slayers to fight each other.”

“He’s right,” you added, “Otherwise, if it weren’t for the position it put me in, I’d be having you lick the dust off of my feet.”

“THAT’S IT!” Shinazugawa shouted with his sword raised, a crazed look spreading on his face, “YOU MAY BE HERE ON THEIR WORD BUT YOU’LL NEVER BE ONE OF US TRULY!” He scoffed. “And you love her so willingly? Tch! Makes me sick!”

“That’s enough!” Giyuu, usually standing in the background quietly, faced Shinazugawa as well. 

Rengoku had a say as well on your behalf. “If you have a problem with _____, then take your transgressions up with me! Otherwise, I insist you refrain yourself and keep her name out of your mouth!”

Stinging tears welled in your eyes, first from the frustration this man gave you, but Rengoku came to your side. He stood with you; he stood by you; he stood up for you. His aura burned with anger though he didn’t try to brandish his sword. If it came down to it, Rengoku was going to give Shinazugawa some much needed handiwork.

Ubuyashiki drew his finger to his mouth and the group hushed instantly. “There should be no cause for hostility based on appearance so long as you all carry out your missions completely. “ His smile was soft, disarming. “Heed her word of caution well, Shinazugawa. If not for their retreat, either of them could have come to pass.”

Silence passed through the group as many minds thought pensively.

“For now, we keep to the outside of the city to not rouse him. Prepare for the fight ahead soon to come. I will call for you all again soon. This concludes the ‘Pillar Meeting’.”

You didn’t mean to leave so quickly, but that scar-faced motherfucker really pissed you off. You needed a moment to take in a few deep breaths, to calm down, and go to your happy place because if he rounded the corner--

“What’s her deal!?”

You pivoted around on your toes, dashing with your hand drawn back. You were going to slap the donkey shit out of him! Your fingers missed his face by a couple centimeters as Rengoku nabbed you by the waist and brought you a few feet back with you hanging over his right shoulder.

“YOU GOT A LOT TO SAY WHEN OYAKATA-SAMA IS AROUND! TALK IT NOW! YOU LUCKY RENGOKU GOT ME OR I’D SLAP THAT UGLY SMILE RIGHT OFF YOUR FACE!”

All of them, especially Shinazugawa, heard your shouts all throughout HQ until Rengoku finally made a good enough way back to the Rengoku Estate. It was then that he finally let you down after he felt you had cooled down.

“Feel better now, Sunflower?”

You sighed and rolled your eyes, “I suppose. I’ve you to thank for catching me because I was seriously thiiiiiis,” your index finger and thumb almost touched, “Close to leaving a print of my hand on his cheek.” You huffed loudly. “But thank you, to you, Giyuu, and Oyakata-sama. Keep giving me the encouragement to move forward. The future is what I have to look forward to with you.”

Rengoku took your hand in his and kissed your forehead then your lips. “I shall make it my sworn duty to keep you on the right and narrow!” 

“Good! Now, how about I make you and the Rengoku family some breakfast. I’m sure you’re pretty starved after this morning’s appetizer, though we were cut short.”

“You’re right!” He picked you up bridal-style and began speed walking the rest of the way home. “I have to finish what I started! Pleasing you in the wee hours of the morning, day, and night is what I live for! So, of course I always have room for seconds!” - - - - - - - - - Chapters: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII (Part 1) / (Part 2) / (Part 3)

[hermankopusortizorsumshite]

Walsh

PART ONE:

Warning: smut, violence, gore, breaking and entering, sarcasm. So much swearing. Mentions of Shane c*ck.

Kennedie Gunner was Lori’s best friend throughout high school as Shane was Rick’s best friend. The two often saw a lot of each other, more than Kennedie appreciated most days. She lived down the street a little ways from Rick and Lori, and visited every chance she got. She and Lori would spend nights together if Rick was pulling a double, as Lori never felt safe alone.

“Morning Kennie! Hey, Rick’s planning a little backyard barbeque if you’re interested.” Lori smiles as she pats the seat next to her. “You want to go grocery shopping with me?” She asks, flicking the list on the table.

“Sure!” The Gunner woman cheers, grabbing her small purse and leaving out behind Lori. Carl had gone to his friend’s house for the night, excited to kick off summer.

“So first stop is the liquor store. You want to make mimosas? Or?” The brunette asks as they drive towards town.

“Whatever you want. I’ll buy booze, Lo.” The blonde offers with a smile. Lori nods in acceptance because she knows Kennedie will fight dirty to the end. As they make a right, too busy talking that Lori forgets a turn signal, a police car lights the two up and Lori groans.

“Mornin’ ladies.” That voice could make Kennedie’s blood boil.

“Morning, Officer Walsh, Officer Grimes, what did I do?” Lori asks, rolling her eyes and giggling. Kennedie wasn’t giggling.

"Miss Gunner, you still look stunningly pissed off, as per usual.” Shane calls across to her, giving her a nod.

“And you still look like a douchebag, Walsh.” She snorts, rolling her eyes as she gives him a sarcastic smile.

“Always a pleasure, Ken.” He nods, pushing back his short curls.

“Yeah, never is.” She bites, flipping him the bird.

“Anyways, gals. I noticed you didn’t use a turn signal back there.” He drawls, and Lori giggles to Kennedie with a smile on her face.

“Jesus christ, Shane. Why don’t you go do some actual police work instead of hitting on your married partner’s wife!” She jabs, and Shane stalks to the other side of the car.

“Is that illegal drugs I smell?” He asks, popping open the door and unbuckling her. “Stop out of the car, ma’am. You don’t have any weapons or drug paraphernalia on ya, right?”

“No. I don’t, asshole.” She nips, letting Shane kick her ankles apart.

“Guess I’d better check, huh?” He asks, pushing his hands down her body roughly. A shiver breaks through her and she sucks in a breath. It doesn’t go unnoticed as he steps away. “Must be the smell lingering in the car, huh? You ladies have a great day. I’ll see y’all tonight.” He chuckles, sashaying back to the car like he hadn’t made the hair on her neck stand up.

“Bye Shane! Bye honey!” Lori calls as they head towards the store. “You two love to rile each other up. You get him going, then he gets you going; it’s hilarious honestly.”

“I can’t stand that awful man. He’s so fuckin’ annoying. He walks around like his penis could save the human race. News flash, buddy! It’s probably nothin’ special!” She berates as she heads into the store with Lori.

As she and Lori finish up dinner, she quickly jogs to the bathroom to change into shorts and a bikini top. Lori had said they’d swim if it killed them. The sweet brunette meets her at the sliding glass door in her bikini and two mimosas in her hands.

“Girl, yes.” She heaves, slipping a glass from her hand and taking a sip.

“Hey, so question. Rick and I were to vacation would you be okay to watch Carl? It’d only be a weekend. Rick wants to go away for our fifth anniversary but he wants a little escape.” Lori’s cheeks flame cherry red.

“I’d love to!” She cheers, patting Lori’s knee before they both find their way into the pool. Getting settled into some floats, sunglasses on, and mimosas in hand, the two women float around the pool.

“Fire in the hole!” Shane’s deep voice carries through the breezeway before he jumps off the deck, landing directly on her float and sending her careening into the pool, mimosa soaring through the air.

“Walsh!” She yells as she comes up for air. Swimming over to him, she grabs his neck and drives him under the water. He allows her to try for another minute longer before he physically stands up and drags her out of the water with him. As she huffs and tries to swim away, his finger expertly hooks her bikini top and tugs. As she starts to stand up, her breasts are on full display for him and she gives a shriek. “You are such a pig!” She cries, face flaming red from embarrassment as she scoops her top from the water and ties it on.

“Damn, why such a prude baby? That was probably the first time another man ever saw your tits!” He calls, mockinggly gripping at the air like a pair of breasts.

“Dammit Shane. You’re always such a bully.” Rick groans as Lori heads in after her.

“She’s just sore, that’s all. She’s too closed off.” Shane gripes as he sits with Rick to drink a beer.

“Either way, listen. Me and Lori are going away for our fifth anniversary, okay? And Kennie’s in charge of Carl, but will you just check up twice a day? Sometimes he gets to be a lot for one person, yeah?”

Shane’s eyes meet Rick’s and he snorts a little.

“Rick, she’s a grown woman.”

“Yeah, but you gotta at least watch the lights, man. Women can’t shut off lights. Also, go say sorry, man.” Rick jabs a lazy finger at the larger man who only chuckles in response.

“What? Nah, man. She’s a grown woman.” He laughs, taking another drink. Rick finishes dinner on the grill and the four adults sit down to eat in the dim glow of the sting lights.

“Sorry, Ken. I’m sorry for earlier. I did not know you were a sensitive little girl.” He snorts, she grabs a piece cheese and tosses it at him. He just laughs, snatching it and sticking it to her bare chest.

“Don’t you have ass waiting for you, Walsh?” She nips.

“Nah, you wanna be?” He licks his bottom lip and wiggles his brows at he.

“A comedian? That’s very impressive. A sheriff. An asshole. And a comedian. You must be a popular man at parties.” She nods, throwing her head back in laughter.

“That’s right.” He nods, giving her his big, gorgeous smile he used on other women, and for a millisecond, he thought he saw a flash of something more behind those sarcastic, rolling eyes.

“Alright. Well, I’m gonna head home you guys. Thank you for dinner! I’ll be over Thursday night then?” She asks as she rises from the table. Shane rises as well to Rick and Lori’s surprise.

“Can I walk you home? It’s dark.” He states, giving Rick a little smile.

“Are you really that much of a lightweight? No you’re not walking me home.” She nips, shoving him away as he steps closer to her.

“Good night, Kennie.” He coos, waving goodbye.

“Shut up, Walsh.” She grabs her purse and heads for the door. Lori does follow, giving her a big hug and offering to see her Thursday.

“Yeah, we plan on leaving Thursday night when Carl gets home from school.” Lori talks as she walks with her best friend out the door.

“Got it! I’ll pack my stuff then and see you guys Thursday!” She cheers as she heads down the street. A car circles her but drives away. Finding it odd, she grabs her pepper spray that Walsh had forced her to take a few years ago.

“Weird.” She states as she goes in and shuts the door. Turning on her alarm system, she double checks the windows before heading to bed.

Thursday morning comes and she packs her suitcase before loading into her car. Driving down the street to Rick and Lori’s, she pulls in behind Rick and Shane’s cruiser. A moment of realization hits when she sees Walsh in the passenger seat eating fries.

Ducking down under his view, she tries her best to hide but when she hears the door click open and shut she sits up and gives him her best unimpressed face.

“Good morning, you prude. What are you here so early for? Rick and Lori are probably gettin’ it on, so I might suggest not going in there. Unless you’re into that. We could have an orgy on the couch.” Shane wiggles his brows, giving her a stupid grin.

“I’m not orgying with anyone who tries to hit on me with ketchup on their face like a man child.” She laughs, shoving at him as she gets out and grabs her suitcase.

“Why do you hate me so much?” He asks as he slips the case from her hands and carries it to the door. Her hands go for the handle, but Lori’s greeting interupts her.

“I don’t hate you. Dislike? Oh yeah. Hate? Uhm, no.” She answers as Lori meets her at the door with a wild grin.

“Come in!” She cheers, swinging open the door. Shane snatches her suitcase and carries it in for her.

“Walsh? You okay?” She asks, looking to him with confusion written across her face.

“Yeah, why?”

“Because you’re being nice and I want to throw up.” Kennedie nips at him, raising her brows.

“Because the confused look on your face is worth it.” He snorts, dropping it onto the couch. A little black piece of lace sticks out so far that he hooks it with his index finger and gives her a wink.

“Shit, you wanna put ‘em on? Show me how they look?”

“Oh, Christ. Fuck off.” She barks, snatching the black panties from his finger and stuffing them into the bag before storming away from him. His laugh carries, egging her on. For a split second, Shane could imagine her in those black lace panties and his breath hitched.

“I guess Rick and I are gonna head out a little early since you and Shane are here. Shane offered to get Carl from school today and tomorrow. Didn’t you?” Lori asks with a very prominent nod.

“Yeah, I figured why not. Carl likes the cruiser better than your Honda anyway.” He prods, licking his lips again, hand running over his mouth and stubble. Of course Kennedie could tell what she was doing.

“I bet. I bet you use Carl to pick up girls on your way here too, don’t ya?”

“Yeah, it ain’t worked on you yet, you grannie.” He digs, winking at her before he tugs on his utility belt. “Some of us have to work, so. I’ll get Carl from school, try to be decent when we get back.” He prods, jabbing a finger at the lace panties still in her hand. “Carl doesn’t need to see that stuff.” Balling them up, she throws them at Shane, watching them hook onto a button on his uniform.

“Shut it, Walsh.” She nips, snatching her panties away once more before heading to the living room to put them in her suitcase.

“You two enjoy each other’s company! Thanks again!” Lori calls as she and Rick barrel out the door to their car.

“Enjoy your company? That’ll be the day.” She huffs, flipping on the TV to a music channel. Shane hadn’t noticed he was staring until she looks up from cleaning up the living room.

“Why do you hate me?” He asks softly, leaning his hip against the door jam as he cards through his thick, dark curls.

“Because you treat women like objects. They only need three essential things and none of them are a personality or a heart.” She offers as she puts the books on the shelf and stacks his toys in a bin.

“I’m not as bad as you think.”

“You left Rick’s christmas party last year with one of Lori’s friends. You left Fourth of July, broke Carl’s heart, because he wanted Shane to go to the fireworks with him, because of pussy. You left the Labor Day party for pussy. You left Carl’s fifth birthday for pussy. So I love that you’re trying to connect with me for some weird reason, but Shane? You only have one thing on your mind and I won’t be a notch in that stupid utility belt.” She states matter-of-factly as she wipes down the counter.

“You’re just jealous.”

“No I’m not and it pisses you off. You can’t get to me and it bothers you doesn’t it? I’m the one woman in the entire world who isn’t drooling over your dick.” She chuckles as she wipes down the couple dishes in the sink.

“I’m really not into you. Somewhere in that sick little mind you’ve created this fantasy that I’m in love with you.” He points to his own temple as if to signal she’s crazy.

“Oh sure, I did. I heard you hold your breath when you saw those black panties. Somewhere in that sick little brain of yours, you’re imagining what I look like in those. Don’t ya?” She asks, giving him a dirty smirk. Storming up against her, he gets in her face and she doesn’t back down.

“You bet. And all you think about is that Walsh dick. Right? You want some?” He growls, his body against hers.

“No thank you, Shane. But I appreciate the offer.” She coos, giving him a sweet smile before slipping past him. “Bye! See you in a couple hours!” She calls as he storms out the house.

As she hears a car pull in the driveway, she looks out to see Shane and Carl grinning and laughing, Carl’s face covered in blue around his mouth. Heading out the front door to greet them, a stern look as her arms cross over her chest.

“OH shoot. Run little man. Kennie’s mad!” He grabs Carl’s hand, trying to run away.

“You two get in here. Shane! He had ice cream?” She whines, waving to the blue stain around his mouth.

“It was only a little. We shared one scoop.” He offered.

“Carl, are you hungry for dinner? There’s enough for you too, Walsh.” She states as she leads Carl into the house and wipes off his face.

“You wanna wipe off my face too?” Shane calls. She just huffs, rolling her eyes as she sets a couple plates down.

“Are you eating?” She asks, eyes never leaving the chicken on the stove.

“Can I trust her cookin’?” He whispers loudly to Carl, catching her attention.

“Yeah. She’s a good cooker.” Carl assures in a loud whisper.

“A’right. I’ll stay.” He nods like he’s doing her a favor and sits at the table, unclipping his utility belt and hanging it over the chair. They eat in silence, not much to say.

“At school today, this girl told me that she thinks I’m cute. I told her what you say uncle Shane. Cute’s my middle name.” He giggles, “and then she kissed me on the cheek uncle Shane!” He cheers, earning a hand shake and a laugh from the large man.

“Oh that’s great, Walsh.” She chimes, giving him a dark look.

“Nice job.” He smiles, patting Carl’s head. Forking a chunk of chicken into his mouth, he moans at the delicious flavor and when she looks across to him confused he just nods to Carl, “you were right. Good cooker.” Shane nods, talking with his mouth full.

They finish their meal in quiet, Shane shooting Carl funny faces every now and again, making him giggle.

“Thanks for dinner.” He nods as he rises to his feet, scrubbing a hand down his jaw.

“No problem.” She smiles, grabbing the dishes up and heading to the sink.

“Hey Aunt Kennie?” Carl asks, looking to her as he brings his plate over in two little ketchup-covered hands. “Momma says you and uncle Shane won’t date a’cause you’re too stubborn. What does stubborn mean?” He asks, looking up holding his plate.

“Me and uncle Shane can’t date because he’s a womanizer, okay?” She explains, putting his plate into the sink with the other two. Shane coughs, drawing attention to himself. “What?” She asks very plainly.

“You can’t tell a five year old that his uncle is a womanizer.” He retorts.

“I just did.”

“What’s a womanizer?” Carl asks, looking to Kennedie for the answer.

“It’s when a guy treats women, not nice.” She improvises, deciding ‘like toys’ wasn’t the best answer.

“Oh, uncle Shane can’t be a woman fighter, he’s too nice. He changed an ol’ girl’s tire the other day.” Carl responds, holding out his hands to be washed.

“Not a woman fighter, hun, a womanizer.” She chuckles, looking over her shoulder to see Shane laughing softly to himself.

“Uncle Shane, are you taking me to school tomorrow?” Carl asks as she wipes away the ketchup from his hands and fingers.

“Sure, bud. I’ll be here at seven-thirty, okay?” He asks, crouching down to Carl level. Carl nods, hugging the officer before letting Shane rise to his feet and head to the door.

“See you in the morning, Walsh. And don’t be early. I’m not a morning person.” She nips, jabbing a finger at him.

“So six is good then?” He asks as he walks out the door and closes it behind him.

[whitleyschn33]

RWBY7 Soundtrack

Should I be reviewing/giving my thoughts on the OST when I have plenty of asks in my inbox to answer and have no musical authority at all? No, probably not. Am I doing it anyway? Yes.

This is just going to be in what (I assume) is the track order. Let me know if I miss any; I’m going off a YouTube playlist.

1. Trust Love

Initial thoughts: Eh.

It’s okay. It’s not my favorite opening, that honor goes to When It Falls, but it’s competent. Very optimistic, which is a trend for this volume’s soundtrack despite how dire the tone of the latter half is, so I don’t think it fully fits the volume it opens for, but it’s by no means a bad song. It’s easy to sing along and bop to, just doesn’t seem as impressive as the other opening songs. It feels like a different sort of sound than what RWBY songs have been in the past, which is also a running theme for the OST this volume - new artists singing, a lot of experimentation in the style. That’s not a bad thing; the tracks I like the most on this album are the different sounding ones, but it’s very.... noticeable, and didn’t go in the direction you would think for Atlas. 

2. Touch the Sky

Initial Thoughts: Why is the best part of this song the ending?

No, but seriously, that outro is a very different sound to the proceeding song and it’s so good. Other than that, I’ve got questions. Like, whose song is this? I’m leaning towards Team RWBY as a whole, but I’ve seen people suggest it’s Weiss’s, it’s Blake’s, I could see an argument for Yang - it’s very unclear. Also, why is the POV character(s) so happy? Their situation isn’t all that much better in terms of Salem and the Relic and all that; they should still be weighed down with that knowledge, shouldn’t they? They don’t trust Ironwood to help make things all better, they still have to carry the Relic (for plot reasons), the only thing that’s changed is that they’re going out on missions. Well, fresh clothes and a distraction are always nice, and it is a chance to put all that stuff on the back burner. I’ll give them that, then.

3. Brand New Day

Initial Thoughts: From the writers that make every Blake song a duet, here’s her volume 7 song; a duet with.... Qrow?

Have Blake and Qrow ever even spoken to each other? And, is there actually no solo Blake song, or am I beating on a dead meme? Actually, to be completely serious, these two actually work well in a song together. Their character directions compliment each other in this volume - both trying to reinvent themselves some and become better (Blake with her new hair and outfits, Qrow with a new outfit and a resolve to recover from alcoholism), it’s just a shame that, you know, this kind of talk or relationship never happens in the show. At all.

Someone in the YouTube comment section said this song sounds like a 90′s sitcom opening, and I have to agree. It really does, mixed with a bit of 50′s doo-wap. It’s not bad, I actually like the doo-wap, but it also has bits of the usual RWBY style rock, and they don’t mix as coherently as I would like in some places. The guitar bridge after Qrow’s verse is pretty nice, though.

Overall, it’s another good song to bop along to, but like the songs before it, I’m not sure it’s one I’ll be listening to over and over.

4. Let’s Get Real

Initial Thoughts: So, even the song thinks they should talk - why didn’t they?

Here’s something you may not know about me. I don’t romantically ship Renora. I’ve always preferred them as a brother/sister pair - probably in part because I’m a sucker for found family. I’ve never really had anything against romantic Renora, though... but this volume definitely made me go from neutral to dislike. Ren’s confused, he’s worried, he’s having doubts about their relationship that he’s not sure how to vocalize. He admits as much. And instead of, I don’t know, respecting that and letting it be for the moment, or pulling him aside to try and help him talk it through, she... kisses him. Instead of stopping to let them work through where their relationship is at the present (which would be nice, to clue the audience in on what exactly their status is), she pushes their relationship to the next level, presumably. It leaves a very bad taste in my mouth, that Ren’s emotions about his relationship with Nora are just shoved aside and aren’t brought up again. Hopefully it does in the next volume (Nora and Ren are notably split for, like, the first time ever in the Volume 8 preview), but still - I thought Tumblr had decided that “guy shuts a girl up by kissing her” trope was sexist or something - shouldn’t this be similarly scrutinized?

Putting that aside, I actually really really like this. It’s very reminiscent of Shine, but a Renora version; it’s got a great beat, the lyrics do a great job in character insight (something I love from RWBY songs, which are probably why Touch the Sky doesn’t do a lot for me), and it’s just a very fun, peppy song. It also feels very at home in Atlas with it’s more techno-leanings. The ending chorus chant of “Is it love?” is also a nice touch.

5. Celebrate

Initial Thoughts: The better Brand New Day (musically speaking).

And by that I mean, it leans all the way into this different style than the half/half approach Brand New Day did, and it’s all the better for it. Once again, another good dancing song, easy to listen and bop to, but it feels... oddly generic. For one thing, there’s no character tied to it, no character insight - I guess you could make an argument for Robin or the Happy Huntresses, but... not really? For another, while as a song I really enjoy the genre of music, it also makes it feel very much not like a RWBY song (something not helped by name-dropping Vegas). It’s fun, but it doesn’t feel like it adds much to the show.

6. War

Initial Thoughts: Wow, I didn’t think you could make me hate the AceOps fight more, but look at that.

Probably the first RWBY song I just flat out hate, and that’s a crying shame considering the excellent music and vocal performances. Those lyrics, though.  Just - I hate them. I hate them so damn much. I refuse to give this song more than that.

7. Hero

Initial thoughts: Hell yeah hell yeah hell yeah HELL YEAH - 

Best song on the album probably. It has all the usual RWBY flare, gives us a great insight into Ironwood’s thoughts and motivations, and is a fantastic performance by Caleb Hyles. The operatic section at the beginning is wonderfully chilling, and the rock section is very epic. 10/10 song even though I’m not rating these.

8. Until the End

Initial thoughts: Time to play “Who does this gorgeous song belong to?”

Actually, I really, really enjoy this song. It’s creepy in its melancholy, but I love it for that. The piano and subtle strings are beautiful, and the way Casey’s voice echoes gives the illusion of solitude in an empty place, perfect for the tone this song conveys.

Now, the matter of whose song it is. The consensus seems to be Ruby and/or Summer, and that’s pretty likely (and letting Ruby actually have a song would be nice). However, I heard a rumor before the album dropped that this was an Ozpin song, and going through it with that lens makes a whole lot of sense - the repeated “I’ll be here until the end”, the constant use of “we”, “our” and other plurals, the lines “ In waves of shame, we’re desperate to make amends / But through a simple soul, we lie complacent” could refer to him lying dormant in Oscar or other souls in the past instead of actively working to defeat Salem, and in the lines “ As light fills my eyes / I’ll picture me beside her / And pray that I’ll inspire”, it could be him thinking of Salem when he dies, and then praying that he’ll be able to inspire others to fight for humanity, for the light. 

I could see it either way, honestly, but no matter which it is, I love this song.

9. Fear

Initial thoughts: Fire whoever was in charge of sound mixing, otherwise, not as preachy as I was fearing.

This is actually the first time I’ve listened to this. I was pretty pissed at the ending of the finale so I didn’t stick around for the credits, and hearing that it was called “Fear”, I was not in the mood for more Ironwood bashing or “You’re just as bad as she is if you act in fear” or whatever BS Oscar said. So, yeah, wasn’t looking forward to this track.

Thankfully, though, it was not another War. I actually enjoyed the lyrics, and the music was top-notch. Don’t really have much more to say about it other than it was difficult to hear the lyrics over the music in some places, but that could be a factor of the video I was listening to. All in all, pleasantly surprised.

10. I May Fall (Acoustic)

Initial Thoughts: Can someone tell the Williams that “acoustic” doesn’t always mean “depressing?”

Like, acoustic doesn’t have to be a super slow, piano/strings, somber rendition, right? It’s just the instruments and the singer without any added computer editing/layering/whatever, if I’m not mistaken. That style of acoustic works alright with songs like Time to Say Goodbye, but not so well with more upbeat songs. This version isn’t bad, per se, but I’d like to see an acoustic version more in line with the original. 

That aside - the original I May Fall is my favorite RWBY song, bar none. This rendition was always going to be something I liked, and I do appreciate a lot about it. The strings are absolutely beautiful, particularly the cello(? I think, again, I’m not much of a music person, just have a sister that plays violin), and I love the way the violin/viola picks up for the second verse and gives the song a second wind, implying more strength and resolve. I love the music cutting out completely to let Casey sing, with the instruments slowly coming in to join as she gets louder and stronger, as if standing with her - beautiful, it’s all insanely beautiful, and this is one I will probably buy.

Closing Thoughts

This album was... average, to me. Only a couple songs really jumped out at me, while most were good, but not something I was dying to listen to again, or were dragged down by the context.

What’re your thoughts on this volume’s songs? I’d love to hear them! Until then, have a good evening, and stay safe!

[lady-divine-writes]

Moral Arguments (Chapter 2 of 2)

Summary: Crowley doesn't exactly take assignments anymore, but sometimes he does things for fun - like answering the call of a broken-hearted woman summoning a demon on St. Valentine's Day. But what Crowley thinks is going to be a simple hex-and-go turns into more emotionally charged than he bargained for.

(AO3)

Bzzz-bzzz

Bzzz-bzzz

…

Bzzz-bzzz

Bzzz-bzzz

…

“Holy Heaven!” Aziraphale exclaims, batting the air around his face. “The mosquitoes are out and about early this year. Odd considering it’s been so cool out lately …”

“Uh … I think that’s your phone.” Anathema gestures to the table with her half-drunk tumbler of whiskey.

“My wha---?” Aziraphale turns to his rotary phone sitting on his desk and waits for it to make a noise, but it doesn’t.

And the buzzing continues.

“Not that phone.” Anathema snorts. “Your cell phone.”

Aziraphale turns to the table, searching amid the half-empty cups of tea and the polished clean glasses of alcohol for the new cellular phone Crowley had given him. The accursed thing wasn’t so much a gift from his demon but a means to an end since Crowley isn’t fond of not being able to get in touch with his angel every blessed hour of the day - hilarious conceptually since they live together.

In protest, Aziraphale rarely answers it, requiring Crowley to race down to his shop anyway whenever he needs to speak with him.

The phone is apparently on vibrate, and Aziraphale neither knows how it got there nor how to get it to stop. Crowley must have done it when he entered his number in because there’s a rather obnoxiously smug photograph of Crowley on the screen with the words Anthony J Crowley underneath.

“Oh, yes. So it is. Thank you, my dear.” He picks it up and presses an icon marked call. “Hello?” he says, but it continues to buzz. He presses a green picture of a phone and repeats, “Hello?” but that does nothing either. After a third try and fail, Anathema, not quite drunk enough to deal with this hiccup in their plan, grabs the phone out of Aziraphale’s hand, swipes the phone icon with a terse, “There,” and shoves it back.

“Aziraphale! Aziraphale!” he hears Crowley whisper hoarsely.

Aziraphale gives Anathema a bitter eye as she goes back to her seat on the sofa. He squares his shoulders, puts the phone to his ear, clears his throat, and says, “Crowley?”

“Aziraphale! I found the place.”

“Excellent!”

“Put the call on speaker,” Anathema says. When Aziraphale shoots her a confused look, she grabs the phone again and does it herself, laying it down on the table for all of them to hear.

“Now what?” Crowley asks.

“What do you mean, now what?” Aziraphale says, leaning in unnecessarily to talk into the phone. “You’ve done this sort of thing before, I trust. Go … do whatever it is you do.”

“Yes, I recognize that, but there are complications.”

Three pairs of eyes meet across the table, equally bewildered. Anathema and Aziraphale look to Samantha for an explanation, but Samantha shrugs and mouths, ‘I don’t know.’

“What sort of complications?” Aziraphale asks.

“I don’t want you mad at me, do I? Revenge work is highly desired amongst demons because it tends to get bloody. Now, I don’t mind getting my hands dirty for a good cause, but if anything I’m about to do will get me banished to the sofa for the foreseeable future, I’d like to know beforehand.”

“I see. What would you normally do?”

“I could turn him inside out.”

“Ewww!” Samantha and Anathema say in unison, while Aziraphale looks like he’s about to lose his lunch.

“Anything else?”

“The usual, really. I can bury him up to his neck in sand, pour maple syrup over his head and let the ants have at him. I can turn him into a one legged rabbit and throw him to the wolves. I can give him a flesh-eating disease. I can poke out his eyes and make him eat them …”

“Enough, enough!” Samantha says with a hand to her reeling stomach. “A-are all his options so violent?”

“He is a demon, my dear.”

“I could castrate him,” Crowley offers.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale snaps. “If Samantha wasn’t amenable to the idea of eye eating, I don’t think …”

“No, no, wait, Mr. Fell,” she interrupts. “He may be onto something.”

“Are you quite serious?” Anathema gasps.

“I …” Samantha bounces the idea around in her head, looking as certain as she looks uncertain. “I---I think so.”

“That sounds like a yes to me,” Crowley says in a chipper tone. “Let’s get on with it!”

“Let’s back away from the cheerful dismemberment for a moment, shall we, and have a bit of a chat. Look …” Aziraphale leads Samantha back over to the sofa and sets her down, taking a seat beside her “… take a moment and think – if you were going to make him pay for his crimes without demon assistance, how would you do it?”

“Well, I wouldn’t want it to be fast,” she says. “I mean, I assume you can’t live once you’ve been turned inside out, right?”

“I can make that happen.”

“Shhh!” Aziraphale scolds the phone. “No,” he says, turning back to his guest, “he can’t live once he’s been turned inside out.”

“That’s what I thought.” Samantha’s eyes go distant, her thoughts drifting between Aziraphale’s bookshop and somewhere else. “The bigger person in me wants him to learn. To be sorry. To be better. But the petty person inside me wants him to suffer …”

On the other end of the line, Crowley cheers.

“… to live the way I’ve been living. In fear. With heartbreak.” Her lower lip wobbles, her voice cracks. “But mostly the things I want, I want for me. I want my sister back. We haven’t spoken since they ran off together. I want my sense of security back. Every time I change the locks on my house, he seems to find a way in anyway. A-and I don’t have the money to move. Not that it would matter. He’d probably find me.” She sniffles. “A-and I … I want my dog back.”

She drops her head to her hands, weeping openly. Anathema sits beside her, puts an arm around her shoulders and hugs her. Aziraphale takes her hand and gives it a squeeze.

“I know, my darling. I know.”

“Necromancy?” Crowley pipes in. “Is that what we’re talking about? Or just a straight resurrection? Because I can do either.”

“No, I don’t think that’s the way to go,” Aziraphale says, “but I do have a plan. Stand by, Crowley, my dear. I’m about to send you a textual message.”

Crowley sighs. “A text message, angel. A text message. For Satan’s sake.”

“Ah, yes. A text message,” Aziraphale repeats, throwing Anathema a conspiratorial wink. “Thank you.”

“Angel?”

“Yes, Crowley?”

Crowley clears his throat. “Could you … uh … take me off speaker?”

“Dearest, I wouldn’t know where on Earth to begin.”

“Oh … right. Well, before I go, I just wanted to say …” Crowley clears his throat again “I … I love you.”

Aziraphale smiles at the phone. “I love you, too, dear. Now hold on, and be careful.”

“I will.” The phone clicks, the call ended. Samantha peeks up and sighs.

“You guys seem so much in love,” she says. “How long have you been together?”

“Oh, my dear girl …” He hands her a tissue for her watery eyes, taking one for himself after “… it feels like an eternity.”

***

It had not been a good day for Richard.

Not a good day at all.

Being a sewage monkey, on the whole, was a crappy position (pun intended).

But it had its perks.

The salary for one. He couldn’t sneeze at 45,000 euros per year. That’s been more than sufficient to keep him comfortable and then some. What with the way the sewage works kept mucking up, contracts abounded, needing to be filled.

Ergo, the work never ended.

People gotta shit, right?

And they had to be full of it lately.

If things kept going the way they were, he’d be able to retire in roughly ten years.

And for another thing …

…

Nope, that’s it. The salary is the only perk.

But today, everything that could go wrong did go wrong.

There were three major clogs in London proper, and even though that meant o.t. padding his paycheck close to triple, he’d been working in a damp, congested sewer for nearly three days straight with little sleep and less of an appetite.

And boy, did he smell like it.

Today he found out the brat he’d been training is the nephew of his supervisor, poised to take his uncle’s job next year! He should have been offered that position hands down! He’s been working with this same company for over two decades, slogging through putrescence and unimaginable filth, and for what? Now he’s going to be answering to a kid half his age!

Nu-uh. No way. From day one, that kid steps onto site, Richard is going to make his life hell.

To top it off, just as his crew got the all clear to leave, he took a wrong turn, ended up on the M25, and got stuck in traffic for over three hours!

Three hours of traffic? At midnight!?

It seemed evil, like the whole world was out to get him.

Richard turns off the engine of his sedan and sighs. Yup. Today sucked, but at least he’s home now.

He can’t really see things getting worse.

He opens his driver’s side door and pours his numb ass out of his seat. He can’t feel most of the left side of his body, having shifted his weight over an hour into his commute when the right side said, “Fuck you!” and fell sleep. Now he’s limping like a castrated dog up his driveway to his pitch black house.

And that triggers another awful realization.

Valentine’s Day ended hours ago.

And he missed it.

Not just that, he outright forgot about it.

And from the fact that there’s not a single light on in his house, his girlfriend must be pissed.

Temperamental little bitch, just like her sister. She’ll nag the shit out of him about this the second he walks through the door.

Or she’s dressed in head to toe sweats and a hoodie, wrapped beneath the covers like a mummy, prepared to give him the cold shoulder till the foreseeable future.

He’s gotta think of something quick to save his sex life.

“Fuuuuuuuuck!” he bellows, kicking stiff-legged at gravel on the asphalt. “Fuck fuck fuck!” He spins around, searching for a solution that will hold her off till morning. Maybe some flowers from the neighbor’s yard? They looked morbidly brown and wilted when he left for work, but in the dark, would she know the differ---?

“Pardon me, but does your name happen to be Dick Bag?”

“What?” Richard sees the man who interrupted his thoughts emerge from the shadows, strolling over in all black from his jacket to his jeans. “Whaddya mean is my name Dick---?” He rolls his eyes. “Richard Sack. My name is Richard Sack.”

“Same difference.”

“What’s it to ya?”

“I have a message for you from an old friend. Samantha?”

‘Speak of the devil …’ he thinks. “And who are you then? Another process server?” Richard chuckles. “You can tell that bitch she can take me to court all she wants, but nuthin’s gonna happen. She can’t pin shit on me.”

“Ah, now, you see …” Crowley takes a few more steps forward “… you just said the wrong thing.”

“Why? You fuckin’ her?” Richard slams his car door, then goes about punching his palm with his fist, trying to come off intimidating. “I didn’t take her for the goth type.”

“Not the goth type.” Crowley cracks his neck. “More like the demon type.”

“Yeah, right. You shittin’ me or sumthin?”

“Not at all.” A wind blows around them and, suddenly, Crowley stops. His nose wrinkles. He makes a noise and takes a step back. “But it smells like you’ve been. Jesus Christmas! What the Heaven did you step in?”

“Gonna be the remains of your skinny dead ass in a second!” Richard lunges at Crowley, swinging away. Crowley steps to the side, snapping his fingers when he does. Richard flies past him and lands on the ground, struggling within the confines of his clothes, extreme alterations made to his body.

His legs have been fused together, forming one thick limb resembling a mermaid’s tail covered in denim scales. Likewise his arms have melded to his sides, creating an overall fish-like effect.

And he has no mouth. Not a seam of it remains. Just a patch of smooth skin where lips should be.

He squiggles and writhes, building up momentum until he starts rolling down the driveway. Crowley follows him leisurely, knowing where he’s headed. The wriggling mass of human flesh called Richard rolls and rolls until he hits the tire of his sedan and stops, wedged in underneath with his head sticking out, his face staring up. He moans and groans with eyes squeezed shut, begging with muffled words for God to help him.

Crowley waits to see if She will. When She does nothing, he takes that as the go ahead.

He taps Richard on the forehead with the toe of his snakeskin shoe to get his attention. Richard opens eyes bulging with fear. Crowley can feel his fear, taste it like a fine wine slipping down his throat. A rare vintage.

Like an angel’s kiss.

And it’s delicious.

For a moment, he has to remind himself that in this situation, he’s one of the good guys … so-called.

“You have to admit, you had this coming. Now …” He crouches low so the man can hear him clearly “… I’ve got some good news and some bad news – take it as you will. I’ve been on the phone with my people all night, trynna figure out what would be the best possible punishment for a slimy piece of work like you. I wanted to go with an old favorite – turn you inside out and let the buzzards pick you apart … alive …”

That shuts Richard right up.

“… but my lot, well, they’re a might more compassionate than me. So I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do. And you’re gonna go along with it, because the second you deviate from the plan, I won’t care what my side has to say - I’ll snap my fingers and turn you into a human meat suit. Understand?”

“Mmm!” Richard mutters, nodding emphatically, scream-murmuring to the tune of, “I understand! I understand!” if it were being yelled behind a thick wall of flesh.

Which it is.

“Good. Nice to see you being reasonable for a change.” Crowley raises his hand and Richard’s eye go wide. He starts mumbling, something that sounds vaguely like, “No! No! You promised!” but Crowley has stopped paying attention. This is where the fun begins. “Let’s go, Dicky! Time to do some penance!”

***

“So, you framed him for how many crimes?”

“About eighteen.” Crowley accepts a glass of wine from Aziraphale as his angel sits beside him on the sofa, cuddling in closer than usual. “All very old, and very, very cold, but within a reasonable enough timeframe to make them plausible.”

“But … but what about the real criminals?” Samantha asks, worried that, in solving her one problem, she’s unknowingly created problems for eighteen other people. “Will they ever be held accountable?”

“There’s no need,” Crowley says after a swig. “The crimes in question never happened.”

“Let’s just call them a work of forensic fiction,” Aziraphale offers, beaming at his clever demon.

“Mmm …” Crowley interrupts his next sip to say “… except for one. He’s been charged in connection to the disappearance of the Roanoke Colony. I threw that in there for fun. If anyone ever tries to double check it, it’ll disappear.”

“So all’s well that ends well,” Anathema says.

“I guess,” Samantha agrees halfheartedly, gazing sadly into her cup.

Crowley looks at his husband, his angel watching the young lady, their triumph of the night bittersweet, all things considered.

“Look,” Crowley says, “you were right. There was no reasoning with him. He wouldn’t hear it even if I tried. I could read his thoughts. They were very clear on the subject of you. He deserves what he got. Every damned inch of it.”

“I agree,” Samantha says. “I just wish things were different.”

“They will be,” Aziraphale promises. “Tonight was simply the first step.”

“Yeah, have hope and all that.” Crowley downs the remains of his wine and snakes an arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders. “And before you know it, things will turn around, just like that.”

Crowley snaps his fingers.

Aziraphale smiles.

Outside the bookshop, someone knocks on the door.

“Oh! Who in the Devil could that be this late at night?”

“’dunno,” Crowley says, picking up his miraculously filled glass of wine. “Someone should go check. I would but …” He raises his glass and hugs his husband.

“Would you be a dear and go answer that, Samantha?”

“Um …” Samantha eyes Aziraphale and Crowley suspiciously “… okay?” She gets up from her seat and slowly walks through the stacks to the front door. Before she gets there, the person outside knocks again, making her jump nearly a mile high.

But this time, the phantom visitor speaks.

“H-hello? Is … is anybody in there?”

Samantha’s brow furrows, her fear dissolving, replaced by confusion “Libby?” she says, opening the locks as quickly as she can.

“I --- I’m a little bit lost, I’m afraid,” the voice continues. “I don’t know where I am. I saw the lights on and I …”

Samantha unlocks the door and holds it open wide. A woman darkens the doorway, dressed in blue jeans and a plum hoodie, a brown leather bag slung over her shoulder, bulging as if it may contain most of what she owns.

A woman who looks remarkably like her.

“Sammy?” the woman whispers, peering at the figure in front of her like it may be a ghost, might disappear with her breath if she speaks too loudly. But as she realizes what she’s seeing is real, she throws her hands to her mouth and cries. “Sammy!”

“Libby! Oh my God! Libby!” Samantha grabs Libby by the elbow and pulls her inside. She throws her arms around her sister, hugging her with all her might as she cries into the shoulder of her sweater. “H-how did you know I would be here?”

“I---I didn’t!” Libby confesses. “I was on the bus to London and the driver let me off outside. He said … he said he didn’t know why he even came here, but he couldn’t take me any further.”

“What were you doing going to London at this hour?”

“I … I couldn’t tell you. I don’t know, but at the time, it seemed really important.”

“What do you think, angel?” Crowley asks, relaxing into the cushions in his favorite way possible – with a glass of wine in one hand and his angel under his arm, holding him tight. “Did I do good?”

“Fabulously,” Aziraphale says, glowing in the low light. “I don’t think I could have done better myself.”

“Uh … and the dog?” Anathema asks, speaking in hushed tones between the two. “You didn’t forget the dog, did you?”

“Oh, a dog will come,” Crowley says like a dark promise, grinning wickedly.

Aziraphale gasps. “Tell me you didn’t order up a Hellhound?”

Crowley snickers. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Crowley!”

“Like you said, she did summon a demon. I’ve been all sorts of noble tonight. I get to do one demonic thing, don’t I?”

“Anthony!”

Crowley goes pale. In all their time together, Aziraphale has never voluntarily called Crowley Anthony. If he’s doing it now, he must mean business.

Crowley has no intention of finding out what that business entails.

“All right, all right,” he accedes, snapping his fingers twice. “Labrador it is.”

[ayearofpike]

Gimme a Kiss

Pocket Books, 1988 152 pages, 12 chapters + prologue ISBN 0-671-73682-5 LOC: CPB Box no. 1532 vol. 9 OCLC: 182580884 Released June 10, 1998 (per B&N)

If you read and write, then you’ve probably got some imagination. Jane did both. But she never imagined that the product of her own brain would get her into so much trouble. And then when she imagined a way out of it, all her efforts led to more pain and suffering than she’d envisioned. Perhaps it’s because she never imagined that someone else was suffering too, and saw her plan as a ticket out.

Does that even make sense? I’m not sure anymore.

I read this book pretty late in the game to be a Pike fan, and certainly not anywhere near in the order it was intended. Because of that, I always considered it a lesser work. Maybe I thought the shorter book meant a less meaningful or thoughtful story. Maybe it made too many metafictional callbacks to books he hadn’t written yet but that I’d already read by the time I got here. At any rate, I often disparaged it in book discussions, though it was staunchly defended by others. And some twenty-odd years later, I finally see why.

This book, after all, finally dispenses with the damsel in distress trope and gives the female main character more agency over her own actions. And not just her own  – pretty much the entire narrative takes place because of Jane's words and deeds. Yeah, she writes the diary entry that impugns her, and it's not her fault that the entry gets out, but the entry itself is a fiction. She's been writing about the derelictions and indiscretions she's enjoyed with her boyfriend of the last two months, but the only fact in these entries is that she has one. She made up everything else.

Honestly, I'm not sure why this didn't grab me back in the day, because I was doing exactly the same thing. Names and places were different, but pretty much everything I wrote from ages thirteen to nineteen was what I wished I could do with the girl of my dreams of the day. That's what fiction is, in a way: a wish fulfillment fantasy that doesn't hurt you when it invariably backfires in real life. I could never be a jet-setting spy, a seven-foot basketball center, a superhero with the power to manipulate electrons, or even a freshman band section leader, but I could write about it. And if I my main character happened to get in some smoochin' at the same time, so much the better.

This is pretty much what Jane does, never expecting her diary to make its way to school and into the hands of her arch enemy, the cheerleader. Another quick note: I think this is the first time a "cheerleader," in as many words, has made it into a Pike book since Getting Even. In Weekend, Chain Letter, and Spellbound, our female MCs wear short skirts and cheer for athletes, but they're "song leaders." (My high-school brain equated them to the drill/dance team at my school: more of them than cheerleaders, more complex routines, less yelling, less prestige.) Not sure if this is intentional avoidance on Pike's part or an attempt to differentiate his girls from those stereotypical evil ditzy types while still painting them as involved and pretty. Maybe it's both.

So anyway, Stereotypical Evil Ditzy Cheerleader photocopies the diary entry and distributes it around school. Of course Jane is pissed, even though it's not true, and she's pissed at her boyfriend for not disputing it. She makes a plan to get even with them both: she's going to make them kill her. Or at least they'll think they have when they "knock" her off the boat; meanwhile she'll grab the scuba gear she mounted to the rudder, sink to the bottom, and swim away. What Jane doesn't count on, in her state of thinking everyone hates her, is that they might actually care about her. When she makes it to  her hideout and turns on the news, she learns that the boyfriend went in after her and drowned.

To make matters worse, someone is shooting at the hideout. It seems that Jane is not as alone in her vengeance plans as she thought. When the door opens, she brains the invader with a fireplace poker, but it's her one friend that she told about the plan. Is she the secret shooter? Probably not, because then a Molotov cocktail flies through the window and catches the whole joint on fire!

Meanwhile, we're intercutting between Jane's perspective of events as they happened and a detective interviewing a dear friend from school who has willingly gone to the police station to serve as a witness. That is, she goes there on her own initiative, without being asked, to tell the cop in charge what she saw and what she knows about Jane. Suspicious? The detective thinks so, especially as they're holding Evil Cheerleader and she refuses to say a word. And especially as Dear Friend's father stridently objects to the whole thing and wants to get her out of there. This dude is a case: overprotective, untrusting, treats his daughter like a baby, expects that no one has ever touched her, slut-shames the other girls that were on the boat, especially Jane. The man has some serious hangups about teenagers kissing or even touching.

Did I mention that Dear Friend broke up with Jane's boyfriend before he asked her out? Or that she is valiantly trying to hide a cold sore on the corner of her mouth?

That's right: without ever saying the word "herpes," Pike is taking on the socialized stigma of sexually transmitted disease. Without anybody ever putting a body part inside anybody else, he's addressing the cultural taboo of sex before marriage (or sometimes sex at all) and how it can give rise to mental issues. Because Dear Friend has lost it. She's been raised to believe that good girls can't get in trouble, and that bad boys will try to make them. So when she gets the virus that something like 80% of Americans have, explicitly by kissing alone, she and her father and their misinformation take the dirtiest possible interpretation. Moreover, she decides she needs to get rid of that dirty, filthy, nasty boy, and whatever girl he's touching now. (It's never clear whether her father is in on the plot; you could probably argue either way.)

Jane figures all this out on her own, pretty much. And  – yay agency! – she escapes the fire, corners Dear Friend in her house, and fights a confession out of her. Of course, this psycho repressed girl ain't goin' out like that. Did I mention her dad's a dentist? She turns on a tank of nitrous oxide (which she'd prepared specifically to drown the boyfriend when he dove in to save Jane after she got "knocked" into the water) and attempts to kill them both. Fortunately, the detective follows his hunch and bursts in just in time to save Jane and get the real story. So yeah, she doesn't do everything, but she sure does most of it.

When I read this as a teenager, there's no way I had the proper breadth of perspective to understand all the issues and concerns at play here. It's pretty safe to assume that as a teenage boy in the 1990s, I didn't actually care that much about how girls felt or perceived the world. I was also way too close to the situation of writing my own fictional reality to get that not everyone did it, or that it would be misunderstood by a whole school. It's taken an adulthood of distance, but I finally can properly appreciate Gimme a Kiss.

[dunmerofskyrim]

37

Downriver a line crossed the water. A slack rope that traced over the fine skin of ice near the banks, and trailed beneath the surface in the middle of its slow dark flow. A flat square barge was moored up on the far side. Its frame was lashed together from wood and a patchwork of leather and cloth stretched between the spars to form a kind of deck. At waterlevel, leather bladders tight-full with air kept the barge afloat.

“Fucking boatmer…” Simra grumbled under his breath. His purse had barely recovered from the route they’d taken down the Balda. “Fucking pirates, all of them…”

“Ho!” The cry came across the water. Already the ferryman was picking the rope from the water with leathermittened hands and beginning to pull. “Ho there trav’lers! Fine fair mornin’!”

Tammunei looked skyward and frowned. The weather was tin-grey and threatened drizzle. No sky for how thick it was banked in clouds and all the colour of cinders. The sort of sun you had to search for, active and earnest, squinting after some small change in light. And all around the river, the grasses were bearded with frost, the reeds frozen stiff and pale.

“You think so?” Simra called back.

“Nothin’ too bad, nothin’ too bad at all… Still workin’, am I not? A dear fine mornin’, then! A fine dear fair morning…”

A fine fair blighted grey morning to squeeze coin out of the choiceless, Simra reckoned. They were in the crutch of two rivers now, the better part of a day’s travel deep, and could either cross the water or else turn round and hope to skirt it. Fording the flow was scarce any choice at all in this cold and the ferryman knew it. That accounted for his grin, Simra thought, as the barge drew up closer. Or might be that was just his teeth.

The ferryman was Orsimer. Tall and broad in the shoulders but otherwise rangy as a skinned hare, to reckon what you could through the heavy outdoor clothes he wore. A short waxed cape, its hem tasselled with beads, was draped round his shoulders and chest, front and back. It hung to his waist and clattered as he moved. He wore a short coat under it of parchment yellow roughcloth, quilted and padded into squares and diamonds. Almost an arming garment, Simra reckoned — almost a soldier’s aketon. A long grey kilt was belted over that, its skirts girded up and backward between his legs, to show his wiry-haired calves and bare green-grey feet. From out the back of his broad conical farmer’s hat, a thick braid of black hair hung heavy over one shoulder and down his chest, to end in a clattering black iron bell. Like you’d collar a cow with, Simra thought. How long since he’d last seen a cow? He’d seen ‘beef’ for sale in Narsis – he’d never eaten it; wouldn’t know the difference after all – but if beef was dear in Skyrim, whatever passed as cowflesh in Morrowind was sold at thrice the cost. He’d seen no cattle in years…

A wheeze of filled air-skins; a grind of silt. The barge bumped onto the near bank. Its ferryman looked them over, counting them slow and careful. He stood on the boatside like it was a rampart, and he looking down from the high-ground. Confident as anything, swagger even in his stillness as he put hands to hips and leaned in, nodding slow as he spoke:

“Three of you, is it? Mmmh. And two o’ them, hm? Guars…” He drawled over the word, butchering its plural. Simra noticed one of his hands rested casual near a bone handle wrapped into the folds of his kilt’s belt. A half-hidden knife.

“How much?” Noor said.

“Hold on.” Simra shuffled and slipped from the back of the guar he and Tammunei shared. He stumped the butt of his spear against the sod. Strolled in reach of the ferryman. Stumped the spear again into the dirt, ponderish, and looking at the rusted spike as it bothered the frosty grass. “Conversation first. Fine morning for it, right? What’s closed Senie up so tight? What’s that?”

Simra pointed with his free hand downriver, towards the fork where Senie sat on its hill and behind its walls. Smoke rose from the river’s opposite side, trails on trails into the sky where they hung together, mingling in the windless heights. Simra’s hand flashed silver proudflesh and three pale fingers as he gestured. Red beads around the wrist, and plaited silk threads hung with teardrop pendants of green trueglass. Then the rags that bound his sleeves in, to wrap and safeguard the warmth of his body.

“Depends as what it’s worth to you, knowing,” said the ferryman.

“Nothing overmuch,” said Simra. “Except that it’ll help us decide if we want to cross or turn back. Use your fine-looking boat or not.”

The Orsimer stuck out his jaw and twitched his lower lip. “Not heard then, have you?”

“No news from down the road our way, no.”

“Huh. Overtaken, Senie is. Some scuffle inside, two months back might’ve been. All I know’s their lord and council — they strung them from the walls. Hooks in them. Bled or parched to death, all of them by now.”

“Why?”

“Something about their gods. Your gods. What-you-will.” The Orsimer shrugged. “Want to be left alone is how it seems to me.”

“Know the feeling, but never so much that I’d shoot at someone who came too close.”

“Not hurt, are you?” The ferryman sounded almost concerned. “Could be I’d have saved you that near scraping. Don’t go downstream, that’s what I say, but there’s been plenty crossing down here.”

“Which gods?” said Tammunei.

“Eh?” Another shrug from the ferryman. “How should I know? Three of them.”

“Which three?”

“Ffah. How should I know?”

“Hm. And them camped on the far side of the fork,” said Simra. “Who’s that?”

“Some army brought in from eastward over the mountains.”

“Indoril then,” Simra said.

“Some scouts of theirs I ferried over. Oh, two yest’days back and of a mornin’. If they’ve come back since then, it’s not been with me. What they’d be doin’ over from eastward and here in Winter, I surely don’t know… They were asked here’s what they said.”

“That all they said?”

“That and something about pulling some priest out the fort by his hair. They said plenty ‘bout that.”

Borderguards and ferrymen, bridge and gate sentries — you could always trust them to have news worth sharing. Seemed this ferryman wasn’t yet well-versed in that side of his chosen career.

“Been here long?” Simra asked. “At this pitch with your boat?”

“Long enough,” said the ferryman, defensive. “Work’s good lately. Picked right up, it has. Not used to folk wantin’ so much of a chat though, can’t say I am. Most part it’s that they’re in too much of a hurry to cross. You? Two journeys, I’d say. You and your beast, then yous and yours. Extra, that is.”

“How much?”

The two crossings came to a yera and two in total. A shil per passenger and another two for each journey over. Simra had been gouged worse before, but he’d also known plenty work for longer than this ferryman and earn less for it. Still, fair’s fair, even when it’s not fair to you. Given the one boat on this bridgeless length of river, Simra would’ve charged higher — that if only for the boredom of being a ferryman in the first blighted place.

First Simra, Tammunei, their lighter-laden guar. Then Noor and the packguar. Simra watched over the water as the ferryman’s mouth moved, trying for talk, his jaw jutting and juddering. Noor’s mouth stayed firm shut. The beasts peered over the boatsides, one staring deep into its own murky reflection, the other peeking and balking and shying from the water until it was sound and stable-footed on the other bank once more.

On this side of the river, the fields were stripped bare. Paddies deep with frozen mud and ice-chased standing water. Ditches to draw the river and feed the crops stooped much the same: gutters of filth and frost. Rows of fruit-shrubs, bare and stiff, skinny at the trunk and skinny at the limbs. A path of stripped earth ran along beside the water.

Tammunei didn’t remount the guar. Give it a rest, they said, after the water and carrying two riders for so long. The three of them and their two mounts plodded along at footpace. They tended towards the smoke, downriver to the fork and the camp. A wordless verdict between them.

“Is there any need?” Noor said.

“To go through the camp?” Simra said. “A few needs, yeah.” Not that he liked it any more than she did, though he fancied their reasons differed. “Food’s the foremost, if you want to know.”

“We can forage. Hunt. Ghosts preserve me but surely you can go a few days without rice.”

“Forage.” Simra snorted. “In the wake of all them? You heard the orc. They came from eastward. We’ll be tracking back the way they marched from, down the Davon’s Watch road. If you think there’ll be anything left to glean where an army’s foraged through..? Nchow. The pickings’ll be poorer than piss-poor. I’d bet on it. Gold or glass, I’d bet on it any day.”

“You said they were Indoril,” Tammunei began. “New Temple Ordinators…”

“Some of them. The officers maybe. I’d say mercenaries and levies for the rest.”

“I’d have thought Ordinators would mean honour, discipline, restraint…”

“They’re no guarantee of good behaviour, if that’s what you mean. Or good supply lines for that matter. Some people, you give them a bronze mask and they’ll hide all they can behind it. Do whatever they’d never dared to do, and say, no, now it’s for the cause…”

“Will it be safe then?”

“We’re wisewomer,” said Noor. “Sacred servants of the oldest ancestors, the oldest gods. The baelathri Temple reclaimed them only lately, but we’ve given the gods their due since Veloth’s day. They love us now as much as they hated us before. Of course we’ll be safe.”

“Mmh. They love the idea of you fine enough,” muttered Simra. “It’s when you’re there before their eyes, all skins and beads and braids, they decide they’ve got a problem…”

Tammunei shied close to their guar, edging into its neck and putting both hands on its leading-bridle.

“We’ll be safe,” Noor repeated, firmer now.

“Course we will,” said Simra, “if we keep each other that way.”

Senie’s outer walls showed smooth and slightly sloping in the nearing distance. Brick and mortar the colour of bones til they seamed down into the sides of the hill the fort-town had its roots on. There the incline slacked and tumbled in heather and crags of stone to the brown waters where the rivers combined.

Around the three on the riverside path, a feeble breeze picked up, fretting with their hair and the hems of their clothes. None were dressed for Winter, or a journey slow-leading into lands with colder climes. Stupid of them, Simra reckoned. Of him most of all. Noor in her tasselled blanket-cloak and shawl, her ragged threadbare riding-coat — she was best prepared, for all she looked like a small and lope-stepping scarecrow in those tatters. But Tammunei had only the coat Simra had given them, ocean-coloured, with a recent-patched hole in the gut of it. And Simra himself had no coat, no cloak at all.

“What’re the other reasons?” said Tammunei.

“Hm?”

“We could just carry on past. Follow the road when it turns east. But we won’t because of food, and what else?”

“Oh.” Simra shrugged, and fidgeted with his fingers and the shaft of his spear. “Sheer bloodyminded curiosity. Wanna know what’s happening here. We got less than half a story from that bastard ferryman. I want the whole fucking thing.”

[iamanhonestmess]

When Darkness Falls, Haylijah fanfiction

Link to the story on FF in case you missed the first few chapters or want to read ahead (reviews are always appreciated); https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12125374/1/When-Darkness-Falls

Chapter 5 - Family Above All

It was a much welcome and very appreciated surprise for Hayley when Elijah pulled the car into her apartment complex parking lot. Elijah had been right when he told her that she'd like this surprise. This was officially the weirdest kidnapping/hostage situation ever, but Hayley wasn't going to complain about how it was going down. After all, Elijah had said a time or two before that it wasn't exactly a kidnapping/hostage situation where he was concerned. He was proving himself to mean it so far, or at least he was proving that he thought he was proving himself right.

"Remember that we're only here for you to pick up some of your belongings to last you until everything is sorted out," Elijah spoke up, breaking Hayley from her thoughts.

Hayley rolled her eyes as she turned to glance at him. "Okay, dad," she joked not missing the sudden flash of something in Elijah's eyes...distaste at her joke, maybe.

Before she could even think about saying something else, Elijah was out of the car with the door slamming shut behind him.

"What was that about?" Hayley asked herself as she was confused by his sudden, seemingly uncharacteristic from what she'd gathered about him so far, actions.

Pushing her current confusion and curiosity to know what was up with Elijah all of a sudden to the back of her mind, Hayley opened the door and got out of the car. A smile lit up her face as she stared at her apartment building. It had only been a few days or so since she'd last been here, but it sure felt like it had been an eternity.

"Home sweet home," Hayley whispered to herself.

"I don't suppose you have your key on you," Elijah spoke for the first time since in the car.

Hayley turned around to look in the direction of where Elijah currently was. He was standing in front of the car, looking from her to the security lock on the front door of the apartment building and then back to her. In her happiness to be home now, even if just for a little while, Hayley hadn't been thinking about the fact that the apartment building door was always locked for extra security.

Shaking her head, she answered as she shrugged her shoulders, "Nope, no key."

"How do you plan on getting in?" Elijah asked, giving her a curious expression.

Hayley laughed briefly, walking up to the front door with him trailing close behind her. "This is luckily not my first rodeo," she told him, pressing the intercom button for her neighbor's apartment.

A few moments of silence passed before her neighbor's voice came over the intercom.

"Who is it?"

"Hey, it's Hayley," she spoke into the intercom. "I forgot my key again."

"I keep telling you that you need to get a spare," her neighbor said, voice sounding partially annoyed but mostly amused.

Hayley shook her head and rolled her eyes. "And I keep telling you that I will get around to it," she replied. "Will you let me in?"

"Yeah, sure. Come on in."

At the sound of the door buzzing, Hayley backed away from the intercom and opened the door.

Turning her head and grinning at Elijah, Hayley said, "That's how."

Elijah had an amused expression on his face. "You forget your key often?"

Hayley mock glared at him. "No," she answered. "Forgetting my key is often times code for, "I'm too drunk to find my key."

Not waiting for a response from Elijah, Hayley entered the apartment building and headed for the stairs. When she didn't hear Elijah walking behind her, she frowned and stopped walking. Turning around, she gave him a confused look as she took in the sight of him just standing outside the door.

"Are you coming in?" Hayley asked him.

"I can not enter the building without the landlords permission," he informed her.

Hayley laughed briefly.

"Why are you laughing?" Elijah asked curiously.

"Because that was the landlord on the intercom," Hayley answered, crossing her arms. "And she said to come in and you heard it so technically, you were invited in," she explained. "After all, technicalities often times do win," she said as an afterthought. "Now come on."

With that said, she turned back around and continued to the stairs. She smiled once she could hear Elijah's footsteps suddenly following her very closely. It wasn't long before they'd made it to the fourth floor. Hayley walked down to the end of the hall where her apartment was located. Arriving at her door, she stopped and turned back to Elijah.

"I should check and see if my roommate is home," she told him. "He's a werewolf, too, and I'm sure he's aware of what's going on." Hayley chuckled. "Wouldn't want you getting bit now, would we?"

Elijah shook his head. "No, not at all."

With a teasing smile, Hayley turned back and reached up into the light above the door. Feeling around, she soon felt her hand make contact with the spare hideaway key. She grabbed the key and took it out of the light, putting it into the keyhole and turning it. She walked inside the apartment after pushing the door open, frowning at how dark it was inside with all the curtains closed. Turning on the lamp next to the couch, Hayley looked around frowning even more at the sight of the messy apartment. To think that Hayley had actually thought that having a gay roommate would mean a clean apartment. Stupid stereotypes, always getting people's hopes up.

"Aidan!" she exclaimed as she looked in each of the four other rooms in the apartment. "Are you home?!" she called out, getting no reply back.

When she didn't get a response or find him in any of the rooms, Hayley went back to the front door.

"The coast is clear," she said, smiling briefly. "No need to worry about whether you'll get bit or not." Hayley grinned mischievously as a sudden thought entered her mind. "That is unless you manage to piss me off," she said teasingly.

Elijah grinned back, playing along for a moment. "We would not want that."

"No, not at all," Hayley agreed, still grinning.

"Are you going to invite me in?"

"No sister's spell to let you in?" She answered him with her own question since she was still feeling in a teasing mood.

"You must mistake me for my brother."

Hayley shrugged. "Can't be too careful," she replied, leaning against the frame of the door. "I've only known you for a few days or so. I barely know anything at all about you."

Elijah stood there in silence, thinking for a little while before propositioning, "Invite me in, and I'll tell you what you want to know as long as its within my comfort zone of what I'm willing to reveal to you."

Giving it a little thought, Hayley finally nodded her head. "I think that sounds fair." She moved out of the way so he could get by. "Please do come in. And please forgive the mess as well. My roommate isn't the cleanest person in the world."

Once Elijah was inside, Hayley closed the door. She watched as Elijah walked around the living room, checking things out. Her eyes widened in slight embarrassment when she noticed a certain cabinet was open just enough to reveal the names of a few specific DVDs that she did not want Elijah catching sight of. In a flash, she was across the room and slamming the cabinet door shut.

"Is everything okay?" Elijah asked, raising an eyebrow.

Hayley nodded her head and shrugged nonchalantly, leaning back against the cabinet. "Yeah, everything is fine."

Elijah gave her a disbelieving look but said nothing.

Pushing herself away from the video cabinet, Hayley made her way to the kitchen to get a soda from the fridge.

"I should go pack," she said, unscrewing the bottle cap and taking a sip of it. "Then you can tell me a little bit about yourself per our deal."

Something on the coffee table suddenly caught her eye.

"Or better yet..." She started to say, exiting the kitchen and walking back into the living room. "You can tell me about yourself while I pack," she finished, grabbing his arm and steering him towards her bedroom. "Kill two birds with one stone so that we don't waste time."

When she was sure he wouldn't see what she was about to do, Hayley ran over to the coffee table. Reaching down, she picked up her cellphone and silently prayed that it had a good amount of charge still on it. Pressing the button on top, a wave of relief washed over her when she saw that the battery bar was most of the way full.

"Oh, thank god!" she exclaimed to herself, jumping up and down in excitement in her mind.

Quickly turning the volume down completely and setting the ringer to silent, just to be safe, Hayley put her phone into her bra and turned back around to make her way to her bedroom. She couldn't help but laugh when she entered her room to find Elijah standing there looking around awkwardly.

"What? You never been in a woman's bedroom before?" Hayley asked, teasing him; he just made it so easy at times.

"Not like this," he answered, his eyes immediately widening like he hadn't meant to answer the question like that; his response was an obvious slip of the tongue.

Reaching a hand up to her mouth, Hayley tried her best to stifle her laugh. He looked so uncomfortable. It was as clear as day that he was the type who preferred to keep his personal life personal. Hayley would've normally kept teasing a guy in this situation because she didn't usually care about hurting the guy's ego or pride, but this time was not like most times. And Elijah was not like most guys she came into contact with either.

"So I've heard stories about you and your brother not having the best relationship," Hayley said, changing the subject as she walked over to her closet and pulled out her suitcase. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't the least bit curious about whether those stories are true or not and why."

Happy and relieved about the change of subject, Elijah replied, "There's a chance that some or parts of those stories are true."

"I'm all ears," Hayley said, looking around the room and trying to think of what she thought she'd need for the next few days (hopefully, fingers crossed) or so. "I'm probably the closest thing you'll ever get to therapy."

Her response gained a chuckle from Elijah.

"You just might be right about that."

"Probably so."

Elijah sighed. "It's a rather long and boring tale that takes place over centuries."

Glancing at him from over her shoulder as she picked up her suitcase and placed it on her bed, Hayley smiled and said, "Well, you're a really good story teller and I'm a really good listener."

"You may come to regret saying that."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

"Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you."

"I won't," Hayley assured him with a small smile before turning her attention back to packing.

Elijah didn't speak up for a bit; Hayley assumed that he was trying to decide what parts of the story to tell her. From what she knew of him so far and the stories she'd heard, he wasn't much for opening up to strangers. She was happy to be one of the exceptions because her curiosity of the relationship between Klaus and Elijah was borderline about to drive her crazy.

"You don't have to go into details," Hayley offered, turning around to look at him, crossing her arms loosely over her chest. "The short story will suffice."

She was given a hint of a smile in response. Despite how small it was, it was an obviously contagious smile because Hayley couldn't help but smile back at him.

"Just enough to drown out the curious fire blazing within me." She laughed.

"That sounds fair," he replied, using her words from earlier, his smile growing into a full blown one now.

It was her turn to smile in response to him. Not to sound corny or anything like that, but it felt as if their were suddenly butterflies flying around in her stomach. Hayley had to turn away quickly because she was suddenly getting ideas in her head that would not be polite to act out. Elijah certainly didn't seem like the type of guy who would approve of her sudden ideas. She was not about to chance accidentally ruining whatever it was that was between them.

Elijah then proceeded to tell her the parts that he was comfortable telling of the tale of why he and Klaus were not on the best of terms these days. By the time Elijah was finished with his centuries and centuries long tale, Hayley wasn't sure how she was supposed to respond to that. The main thing she took away from the tale was that for Elijah it was family above all. Even after all the shit that Klaus put him and their siblings through, Elijah stood by him.

Klaus daggering all of his siblings at one point or another throughout the years and carting them around in coffins...Hayley had heard stories and was aware that Klaus was sadistic, but she had never thought he would actually be that sadistic. But she surely did now. Even despite that and everything else that happened at the hands of Klaus to him and his siblings, Elijah still stood by his brother when it came down to it. If that wasn't the actions of someone who was family above all, then Hayley didn't know anything at all.

"You stood by him despite all of that?" Hayley said as more of a statement than a question.

Elijah nodded. "It's family above all."

Hayley had to commend him for such a motto and actually living by it. After all he'd told her about the past, she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to keep that motto up if she'd been in Elijah's position. Family above all is one thing if the family member in question is deserving of it. But it's a whole different thing when that family member is someone like Klaus. There's no way she would've been able to do what Elijah had done, standing by Klaus like he had for centuries.

"Oh, god," Hayley thought to herself, biting her lower lip. "What will he do if he finds out what I did?"

"Are you okay?" Elijah asked, breaking Hayley from her thoughts.

Hayley nodded and put on a fake smile. "Yeah, I'm fine," she lied, hoping that he would buy her lie even though she didn't even believe it herself.

Elijah's face gave away the fact that he didn't believe her. Lucky for Hayley, he did not try to press the issue. She was almost completely sure that she would've come clean right then and there if he'd pressed any further. There was just so much guilt that she could take before it became too much for her to handle for any longer than she already had. She was extremely close to her wits end already.

"I think I have everything that I need now," Hayley said, getting off of her bed and picking up her fully packed suitcase. "Oh, wait a second. I almost forgot," she said, rushing to the bathroom once she remembered she needed her toothbrush and toothpaste. "Alright, now I have everything," she reiterated as she came out of the bathroom.

"Here, let me take this out for you," Elijah offered, reaching out to take her suitcase from her.

Their hands touched briefly and Hayley's breath caught in her throat.

"Oh, um...thank you," she replied, pulling her hand away from the suitcase quickly and hightailing it out of the room. "If you develop any feelings for Elijah and he finds out what you did, those feelings would ruin you, Hayley," she scolded herself, doing her best to push any and all feelings she may have been developing so quickly for him deep down inside her. "I'm ready to go when you are."

"It would be best to be going now," Elijah said, exiting the bedroom and walking to the living room. "We don't want Klaus finding out about Freya's loophole."

Hayley nodded her head, agreeing with him. "That is a good point."

Letting Elijah lead the way out of the apartment, Hayley returned the hideaway key to it's rightful place. She locked the apartment door and closed it behind her before following Elijah down the hallway. For the entire walk to the car, Hayley found herself in the midst of an inner battle to keep any feelings she could possibly have for Elijah, or develop in the next few days, at bay.

As if her current predicament wasn't already complicated enough with having to constantly battle her feelings of guilt. Now she would possibly have to add growing feelings for Elijah to the list. If she were to feel something for Elijah, the stakes would grow immensely. It would turn into a case of, If he found out, she could lose him, but if he didn't, she could lose herself. There was no way that this was going to end well for her. Or possibly even for anyone that was involved.

[mystrothedefender]

Wow its been so long since ive written batman joker stuff holy shit. inspired by @gayforbatjokes colour au. i need to edit it and might continue it idk...

Jack’s life was perfect, or near enough.

Indeed there were some bad aspects; He was woken by a screaming baby 3 times per night, his wife would be irritable and snappy during the day from the lack of sleep, as would he. He wasn’t too fond of his job either, he’d never imagined himself as a pencil pusher but the arrival of their little ‘Angel’ James had forced him to take the first job he came across.

It was similar to how things had been with Jeanie. Any thought of that caused a pang of pain and guilt to rush through him, so he tried not to think about it. He saved all that up for his therapy sessions, provided by Harleen - free of charge of course.

As good as their life was there was one thing that always played on Jack’s mind: Harleen, as much as he loved her, as perfect as their life together was, she wasn’t ‘the one’.

You only get one ‘the one’.

Jack’s had been Jeanie.

He’d never told Harleen.

When they’d been together their skin glowed, the world exploded into colour. Losing that, losing her, had been unbearable.

He remembered the day he met Harleen. Shortly after Jeanie had died Jack suffered a mental breakdown, he’d served a short court mandated stay in Arkham’s low security ward, Harleen happened to walk through the front door at the same time that Jack was dragged in.

Harleen had talked about their first meeting multiple times, it was a go to at parties, Jack was drugged and delirious, throwing himself at whoever caught his eye.

“I’ll piss on your grave!” he had yelled at Harleen upon seeing her, a look in his eyes akin to glee, laughing in an odd tone that seemed so desperate.

Harleen had been quite taken aback, of course.

‘I thought it was a shame’ she said when recounting the story, ‘that someone as handsome as him would be so rude.’

Their second meeting was more civil.

Jack approached her in the rec room as she observed the patients, timid and mousey as usual.

In a voice almost a whisper he had apologised to her, he could remember doing everything he did but it wasn’t really him, it was like he’d snapped, the memory of it was like the memory of a film. She’d smiled at him and accepted his apology.

‘But you better find a way to make it up to me.’

It’d been almost 4 years since then. Now they were married with a young boy.

Life was almost perfect.

But he wished he could see his skin glow again.

.

Jack pulled himself out of bed and dressed himself in front of the mirror, his chest throbbing as it always did at the sight of his dull appearance. He smiled as he left the room, hearing Harleen and AJ in the kitchen.

“Please little Angel, stop crying already, it’s been hours.”

Jack stopped at the door, watching them with a sleepy smile on his face, “How are my two favourite kids?”

Harleen huffed, frowning, “We’re both tired. I can’t stop him crying,” she said, a desperate tone to her voice, “Help me out puddin’? He’s your kid too y’know.”

Jack nodded and outstretched his arms, he took the 9 month old from her and began to bounce him in his arms, pulling funny faces in an attempt to cheer him up.

Within a minute the child’s cried stopped, fading into the sweet babbling of a happy baby.

Harleen huffed softly, turning to make her and Jack’s breakfast, “I don’t get it! I do that and it makes him worse.”

“I think he likes my teeth,” Jack said, flashing her a toothy grin.

“Yeah? Well he’s the only one,” Harleen replied, placing two plates of low fat scrambled egg on whole wheat toast on the table.

Jack glanced at the food, letting out a soft sigh as he moved to sit down. He missed having cereal. He and Harleen had agreed to eat more healthily after AJ’s birth, or more he had suggested it and she’d taken him seriously.

Hopefully she’d eventually get bored of it herself and they’d revert to lucky charms and honey nut cheerios.

“Hey,” he said to her quietly as they ate, baby AJ still in his arms. “I’ve got an hour before work, why don’t I take care of the brat and you have a nap?”

Harleen’s face softened a little, “Are you sure?” she asked, suddenly filled with excitement.

“Yeah sure, you’ve been up since what? 5 am?”

She smiled widely, leaning over the small table to kiss his forehead, “Thanks. I feel like I haven’t slept in a week…”

Jack chuckled softly, “Go on, you get your beauty sleep. You let me sleep in, It’d be rude if I didn’t return the favour.”

He watched her shovel the last of her food into her mouth and toddle off towards the bedroom.

Before AJ was born they might take this spare time to be together as man and wife, but that was parenthood, or so he’d been told.

No sleep and no sex.

It was funny, he thought to himself, their child was nicknamed ‘Angel’ but he was the worst baby ever. He’d wake multiple times in the night no matter what they did, if you didn’t pay attention to him he’d scream nonstop. He was nicknamed ‘Angel’ but he was a little devil.

He took after Jack so much. He had the same features and hair type. He was a beautiful little thing.

Jack could watch him sleep for days and it’d feel like no time had passed.

He settled on the sofa after finishing his food and turned on the tv. His eyes darting between the morning news and the baby in his arms.

It seemed that two-faced guy had caused some havoc again and Batman, ever valiant, had taken him down yet again.

Jack couldn’t help but smile at it, it seemed quite funny really, from the outside they both seemed as bad as each other, they both caused property damage, both harmed people. If Batman was after anything but Two-face he’d be hunted down too.

Before Jack knew it almost an hour had passed, AJ was now asleep in his arms, all he needed to do was brush his teeth and he’d be ready for his work day.

After working at Wayne enterprises for a little under a year he finally had a meeting with the boss, Bruce Wayne himself. Of course he’d seen the boss before in video conferences and on tv but he’d not met him in person.

He climbed the stairs to the master bedroom and knocked softly on the door, “Harleen, sweetie-pie,” he cooed as he entered, “I’ve got a gift for you.”

Harleen groaned softly and rolled in the bed, “That gift better not’ve left me a gift.”

Jack shook his head, “No he’s clean. Do you really think I’d be mean enough to do that?”

“Uh? Yes? You’ve done it before.” She sat up in the bed and held out her hands to take the baby.

Jack chuckled, flashing a toothy grin, “I have never done such a thing in my life Harleen, I have more class than that.”

Harleen scoffed, “Sure you do…” She took AJ and waved a hand at Jack, “Go on then, you don’t wanna be late for Brucie.”

“Mr Wayne,” Jack corrected, “If I called him Brucie I’d get fired on the spot.”

“Good!” Harleen smiled, “Then you could look after AJ and I could get some more sleep.”

Jack chuckled, “Hey don’t you call my bluff,” he waggled a finger at her, “You know if you push me I’ll do it, and if I come home with no job we’ll both be screwed.”

“Go then.”

.

Usually Jack smiled all the way to work, he smiled as he brushed his teeth, he smiled as he kissed Harleen and AJ goodbye, he smiled as he began playing his favourite song. He continued smiling as he hit traffic.

‘Accident: delay 25 minutes’

Seeing the sign stopped him smiling.

He let out a hollow chuckle and began tapping his hands on the wheel. He didn’t have time for this… He couldn’t be late to meet Bruce Wayne, he just couldn’t.

There were no shortcuts he could take to avoid a delay.

… He’d just have to own it. He was sure the rest of his team could handle 10 minutes without him.

He sent a text to his workmate and let out a sigh, the smile coming back to his face as he skipped to another song he liked.

It would be ok, he’d just slip in, most likely no one would even notice.

The minutes crawled past as slow as his car did. He could see his workplace approaching.

Maybe it’d be faster to ditch the car and walk?

No, no, that was a bad idea.

Just a few more minutes…

Finally he parked up. 40 minutes late. He jumped out of the car and sprinted towards the building, he used to be so athletic, he wished he hadn’t let himself go so much.

Finally, panting, he entered the lab, gasping for breath. He should have taken his time and strolled in… hindsight is 20/20.

“Finally,” a familiar voice said from the corner of the room. Bruce Wayne.

Jack straightened himself a little, smiling in hello, still panting too loudly to speak.

Bruce Wayne stood on the other side of the room, an attractive hulk of a man, smiling back politely.

“You must be Jack,” Bruce said, walking towards him with long strides, “Your colleagues have told me all about you.”

The man held out his hand.

Jack stared at it a moment before reaching out to shake.

The moment their hands touched something happened…

Jack felt a warmth spread through him, a warmth he’d felt before.

He looked down at his hand.

It was glowing. The pale skin brighter than he’d ever seen it.

He looked back up at Bruce.

Could he see it too?

Judging by the look of shock on the man’s face he’d say so.

“Bruce,” Jack said breathlessly, staring at him.

Bruce pulled back his hand, clutching it to himself for a moment. He continued looking Jack up and down.

“Uh…” The man was stuttering, obviously shocked, as was Jack.

Was this the first time Bruce had seen it..?

Jack felt a twisting pain in his stomach, he wanted to cry, he didn’t understand.

“I have to go,” he said, his voice a whisper.

He turned and ran, shutting himself in the mens’ room.

His heart was racing, tears pooling in his eyes.

This was wrong.

You only get one ‘the one’. And he’d already had his. He’d made peace with that. He’d moved on with his life. He couldn’t handle this. He was happy. He loved Harleen. Their life was perfect.

His breath hitched and he began to sob, the realisation of what had happened filling him, he felt like he was going to throw up.

His memories of Jeanie swarmed to the front of his mind. That warm feeling he’d felt, he’d missed it for so long.

He sank to the floor, holding his hands to his face, he felt so ill…

He wished he was back at home, in bed with Harleen.

He tried to calm himself using the methods Harleen had taught him. He had anxiety attacks sometimes, though they’d gotten rarer in the past few years.

Control your breathing.

Ground yourself.

It seemed to be working.

He’d have to go home though, there was no way he could stay after this, not today.

He’d make up for the missed work by doing overtime on the weekend.

He couldn’t handle this.

.

Leaving the building proved harder than he thought, not physically, that was as easy as signing your name. Mentally though? Jack couldn’t stop thinking…

If he left now…

What if people guessed? Jack could be a skittish person sometimes, he had practically no impulse control, but he never left work without being ill. They needed the money.

A panic attack counted as being ill didn’t it?

But he couldn’t tell them that.

What if someone caught on?

He knew a few people in his office had met ‘the one’, some of them had seen him interacting with Bruce, it might not be hard to guess.

And what about when he got home?

Harleen would ask why he was home so early.

Jack closed his eyes, banging his head against the wall.

No.

He couldn’t go home.

He was too shaken, he couldn’t deal with the questions and the crying baby.

He’d go to the park, have something to eat, enjoy some solitude.

That sounded good.

Slowly he got to his feet, breathing slowly.

He walked to sign out, looking around constantly to check if anyone he knew could see him.

Today was supposed to be such a good day, why did this have to happen?

He was so tired.

.