#I crawled to a chair. Harvey had to old the chair so that I could climb at least a little better than at the bottom of the stairs. House ke

[heyiwrotesomethings]

hello!! im glad to hear that requests are open again :D could i request a stardew fic? reader is the farmer and one day they injure their back or knee while working and end up at the clinic. at the clinic, they're taken care of by their friend maru for a day or two but just as reader is about to get released, maru realizes that they live alone and are still recovering. so maru offers to live with reader while they recover and help take care of the farm. then eventually as reader hers better, it leads to a confession and asking maru to move in :). sorry if this was really long!! thank you and take care!!

Back Pain and Strawberries

Maru (Stardew) x They/Them Reader

A/N: Hi! Ah, it’s been awhile since I’ve been in the valley. It’s good to be back. I hope it’s alright. I feel like a jumped around too much/ didn’t develop the idea enough but I tried my best! Also since it’s Stardew I feel compelled to say I swore in here a bit so look away if that’s troubling to any of you lol. Word Count: 3,478

“Holy Yoba damn it all!”

Well, they finally did it. (Y/n) went too far with their daily work load. Just a few more trees to clear, they had told themself. As if they weren’t chopping down six whole trees with a old, crappy axe after planting and watering a whole new slew of crops for the second half of spring.

They should have been surprised their back held out as long as it had. Going from a desk job with that awful chair to farmer of an overgrown jungle of a plot of land should have been a clue that they needed to start small and not attempt a complete overhaul in only two weeks.

(Y/n) had fallen to their hands and knees from the shock of the pain. They wanted to take the rest of the fall, but getting back up again would be a challenge. They heard the tinkle of a collar paired with light panting and sniffing. It was a long shot, but maybe…

“Go get help, Cashew. Come on, don’t make me crawl to town.”

The dog tilted its head, ears perked, but instead of taking on the role of Lassie, it snuffled the back of (Y/n)’s neck with its wet nose and promptly got distracted by a grasshopper jumping above the wild grasses.

“If I survive this, I’m making Marnie take you back.” The Farmer groaned and rose slowly to their feet while using the treacherous stump of the last tree they cut as leverage.

Then they painstakingly unwedged their axe from the tree’s trunk to use as a makeshift cane. Not great, but it was the best they had.

They slowly made their way into town and thanked the stars for the farm being on the same side of town as the clinic. It was still a bit of a hike of course, but they made it eventually. Yoba, they really needed to invest in a landline.

They struggled with the door, then they finally made it inside. The sweet air conditioning was an instant relief. They really needed to get air conditioning in the farmhouse.

“(Y/n)? What happened?!”

They rose their head as high as they dared. Ah, Maru was working today. They hadn’t even thought about that. She was going to be so mad after telling (Y/n) not to overwork themself too hard when they first moved into Pelican Town.

(Y/n) and Maru had been friends for years. When (Y/n) used to visit their grandpa in the summers growing up, Maru was the first friend they had made and they kept in touch ever since. When they had wrote to Maru about moving into their grandpa’s farm, she had been really excited about getting to see them more often. That excitement had morphed into concern very quickly when she heard how much work (Y/n) was putting on themself.

“Maru, I fucked up.” The Farmer stated plainly.

“That much is obvious. Hang on a minute, Harvey’s in his office.” Maru jumped into action, disappearing into the back of the clinic.

It didn’t take long for Harvey and Maru to appear in the lobby to help (Y/n) into a bed and give them a thorough look over.

“My goodness, you walked all the way here with a herniated disk!” Harvey grimaced. “You’re lucky it didn’t rupture!”

“I can’t believe you! What did I tell you about overworking yourself? If I could hit you right now, I would!” Maru huffed.

“I know, I know! Can you guys fix it?” (Y/n) yelped as their back was poked and prodded.

“With some anti-inflammatories, maybe some ice, and a lot of rest, you should recover in four to six weeks.” Harvey assured while he filled out a prescription form.

“Four to six weeks?!” (Y/n) yelled, “I can’t afford to be out of commission that long!”

“You should have thought about that before- what were you even doing?”

“…Cutting down trees.” (Y/n) answered sheepishly.

Maru slipped her fingers beneath her glasses to rub her face in frustration.

“Trees plural? With that ancient axe?”

“Yup.”

“(Y/n) you drive me absolutely crazy sometimes I hope you know that.” Maru had known (Y/n) since they were six years old. One would think they would have grown out of their reckless behavior by now, but Maru’s dear friend was not so inclined.

“I know! Please stop shaming me! Can we focus on the real issue here that is I can’t work on the farm for the rest of spring and maybe the first week or so of summer? There is so much to do!”

“I’m sorry (Y/n), but there really isn’t anything for it but rest. If you strain yourself you could risk a more serious injury with an even worse recuperation time.” Harvey left little doubt of just how serious he was about resting. “Absolutely no hard labor.”

“I should at least be able to water the garden and feed the chickens. Fishing isn’t that physically demanding either, or foraging—“

“Are you even listening to yourself?” Maru massaged her temples with heavy pressure, “You just keep tacking more on.”

“Maru, please. You know how important bringing the farm back to life is to me.” (Y/n) pleaded.

Maru propped one arm above the other, her frowning lips pressed into the side of her fist as she went deep into thought. It’s true, she did know how important the farm was, not only to (Y/n), but to the community as well. There were definitely things that could be held off on, but it would be devastating to have the crops dry up and never mind leaving the chickens to their own devices. She just couldn’t leave (Y/n) to do those things on their own because one thing always left to another with them. If they had someone to help, someone to keep an eye on them and make sure they were actually resting, that would be a compromise Maru could live with.

“Then I’ll stay with you until you get better. I’ll help with the farm and aid in your recovery.”

“Hey, that sounds like a great idea.” Harvey nodded along, happy to hear a favorable solution.

“Maru, would you really?” (Y/n) wouldn’t want to put any extra work on Maru.

She already worked at the clinic, helped her dad with lab work and had her own technological experiments to boot. Hey, it sounded like (Y/n) wasn’t the only one with the tendency to overwork. Theirs just put a more noticeable strain on their body.

“Of course. You’re one of my best friends.” Maru assured. “We’ve been meaning to hang out more anyway.”

“Thank you, Maru!” (Y/n) moved to sit up, but quickly fell back to the cot and sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. “That was a little too sudden I guess,” they lifted their arms instead, “hug me?”

Maru smiled and rolled her eyes before leaning over to give (Y/n) the hug they desired.

Once Harvey set (Y/n) up with a bottle of anti-inflammatories, a back brace and a printed up healing regimen (and the bill), Maru walked them home and set them up on the couch with the TV set to some oracle show.

“I need to go home to tell my parents what’s going on and pack up some stuff. Do not move from this spot.”

“I’ve gotten into enough trouble for today I think,” (Y/n) sighed as they looked over the healing regimen, “safe travels.”

Maru didn’t like seeing (Y/n) look so down. An idea came to mind that she thought might cheer them right up.

“I’ll bring back pizza or something from the saloon and we’ll make this a real sleepover just like old times.”

“I like the sound of that.” (Y/n) looked up at Maru with a familiar grin, “Are you sure it won’t be too out of the way for you?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got it. You hold up your end of the bargain and I’ll do the same.”

“Yes ma’am.” (Y/n) mock saluted.

Maru shook her head playfully then exited the small farmhouse. She took the back road shortcut to her house and filled everyone in on her plans for the next several weeks. Demetrius was a little on the fence about it, but Robin was fully on board and gave him the push he needed. A quick jaunt through town to pick up some of Gus’ homemade food and Maru was back at the farm only a couple hours after she left.

“Have you been behaving?” She asked as soon as (Y/n) came to help her open the door.

“Haven’t gotten up except to open this door.” (Y/n) said matter-of-factly.

“Good, then you get to eat.” Maru teased, setting the take out on the small table in the corner.

“What kind of nurse are you? Threatening to withhold food from your poor patient?” (Y/n) pouted.

They laughed together and Maru pulled the table up to the couch so they could sit more comfortably and watch tv. Cashew took that as an invitation to sit atop both of them and try to snap at the food that soared over his head.

When it started getting late, they got ready for bed and without even considering the couch, they shared the single bed in the corner of the room. They had shared a bed several times over the years so it wasn’t weird even at the age they were now? Right? No, certainly not! If it was, it would certainly be to awkward to change their minds now. Especially with Cashew jumping up to pin them both to the mattress.

“This place is smaller than I remember.” Maru spoke into the darkness. The quiet of the night left her with no distraction from the heavy beating of her heart.

“Yeah, I never realized what an extreme minimalist grandpa was. I’ve been meaning to talk to your mom about adding on another room.”

“You should. She’s always looking for new projects.”

“Cool.”

The silence fell again and both (Y/n) and Maru stared up at the dark ceiling, afraid to move too much lest they disturb or brush against the other.

This wasn’t awkward at all.

It did help when Cashew wedged between them instead of being draped over them. It gave a little buffer that eventually helped the couple— the two close friends go to sleep.

***

The next morning, Maru woke up alone. No Cashew, and more concerning no (Y/n). She got up and dressed quickly, knocking back the farmhouse door with a loud thud.

“Morning.” (Y/n) greeted from the front step once they had recovered from the sudden noise.

“How long have you been out here? Have you been working?” Maru questioned right away, making (Y/n) laugh and hold out their hands defensively.

“I’ve been up for an hour, I haven’t done a thing but take out Cashew and gaze longingly into the garden, I swear.”

Maru searched (Y/n) for any signs of deception, but found none and relaxed. She nodded and put her hands on her hips.

“Good. What do you want me to do first?”

“We should check in with the chickens first then circle our way back to watering the crops.”

“Sounds good.”

(Y/n) walked Maru down to the coop and showed her where to put the hay and how the chickens liked to be pet before directing her to open the coop hatch the the chickens could go out and enjoy the sun. Then they collected the eggs and headed back in the direction of the farmhouse.

“I’ll put these in the fridge. You can fill up the watering can in that little pond there. I usually refresh Cashew’s water bowl before working my way down the line.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Maru filled the water bowl and worked her way down the rows of crops and had to refill the can no less than three times. (Y/n) came out with a picture of cold lemonade, for which Maru was grateful to have when she was done.

“Did I spy strawberry plants down at the end there?” She asked after taking a few gulps.

“Yeah, Pierre was selling them during the egg hunt and I couldn’t resist buying a whole bunch. I know how much you and your dad like them so I was going to surprise you with a bunch. So, uh, surprise.”

“That is very thoughtful of you. I can’t wait to have some.” Maru’s heart started thudding against her chest again and it wasn’t from watering plants in the sun all morning.

***

Days became weeks and before either of them knew it, (Y/n)’s follow up appointment with Harvey was upon them. He gave (Y/n) the okay to go back to work so long as they didn’t over for it. They could still aggravate their back again if they picked up too much work too soon.

The journey back to the farmhouse was unusually quiet. Both were happy for Harvey’s verdict, but they felt troubled at the same time. They had a routine. Maru didn’t want to leave and not get to see (Y/n) first thing in the morning and last thing at night. As small as the farmhouse was (Y/n) felt like it would feel too big without Maru there.

“Looks like you won’t need me hovering around you anymore, huh?” Maru broke the silence with a weak attempt at a laugh.

“…I guess.” (Y/n) gave her a half smile in return, but then an idea came to mind that had them perk up. “Actually, it shouldn’t take long for the last batch of strawberries to ripen. A couple days at most. It would be nice to enjoy the fruits of your labor fresh from the earth, don’t you think?”

Maru grinned in return.

“You’re right! That would be really neat.”

“Great! Want to watch a movie when we get home?”

“That sounds good. What should we make for dinner?”

Now with an excuse to spend more time together, they carried on as they had for most of that spring.

***

(Y/n) woke up to the sound of rain beating against the roof early the next morning. Slowly, they sat up in bed, withdrawing their arm from around Maru’s waist.

There was no hurry to get up, the chickens could wait and the crops were being watered by Mother Nature, but they felt restless. The strawberries would no doubt be perfect in time for the last day of spring tomorrow and that would mean Maru would leave with the change of the seasons. It made it feel like winter was coming rather than summer.

Early in the week, while (Y/n) had been sifting through the mail and Maru was watering and taking care of some weeds, they came across a flyer from Pierre about giving flowers to a special someone and couldn’t get it out of their head since. Sitting there, they felt antsy. Tomorrow might be the last day before Maru went home. It would be best to ask her then.

They slipped out of the bed and gave Cashew his breakfast to keep him quiet. Then they took an umbrella and headed into town hoping Abigail would sneak them in early to buy a bouquet before they lost their nerve.

They slipped the bouquet into a chest as soon as they got home and had breakfast ready as Maru began to wake.

***

“These are so good.” Maru swore they were the best strawberries she had ever had. Maybe it was some kind of extra satisfaction knowing she helped the plants flourish that made her think that, but she didn’t care. “Dad will be lucky if I even let him have one.”

When she received no answer from the farmer beside her, she turned to look at them and saw they were all fidgety and didn’t appear to be listening.

“Hey,” Maru poked them, making them jump, “what’s up?”

“Oh, nothing. Actually, there was something I wanted to ask you.” (Y/n) forced themself to say. It was only a years long friendship they were attempting to breech into a different territory that could go wrong and then they wouldn’t be the same anymore. Nothing to worry about! Just bite the bullet and say it!

“What is it, (Y/n)?”

Well, that’s the million dollar question, Maru.

“We’ve known each other a long time, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Maru chuckled a bit at the odd start, but listened intently.

“Yeah, so I just want to say you don’t need to feel pressured to answer me one way or another when I ask you this, I just hope that we can stay friends whatever happens.”

“(Y/n), you’re scaring me a bit with the dancing around. Did you hurt your back again? I swear—“

“No! No, my back is fine. I just wanted to ask if you maybe wanted to, if, if you, I wanted to ask you, if you would like to be my girlfriend.” They cleared their throat and pressed their palms together, legs bouncing on the porch step anxiously as they waited for an answer.

Maru dropped the strawberry she was holding back into the bucket, the cool water within making a little plop sound as the berry fell back in. Maru had dreamed up similar scenarios like this for a couple years now.

“Really? You want me to be your girlfriend?”

“Mhm.”

The farmer pursed their lips and presented Maru with the bouquet they had bought for the occasion. This was a long shot. They always thought Maru was a genius destined for bigger things. They had almost asked Maru out before. They tried during the summer before their grandpa passed away when they were in high school, but they lost their nerve. Then they got that stupid desk job at Joja and they barely stayed in touch. If those feelings still stayed after all that time, they felt like they had to act on them.

Maru lunged forward and wrapped her arms around (Y/n)’s neck and they threw their arms around her in kind, the bouquet rested against Maru’s back. A relieved breath of air left their lungs to be replaced with fresh air that felt better than the last breath they took.

“I would love to. I’m really happy you asked.” Maru squeezed tighter.

“Me too. Ah! Cashew, down!” The couple suddenly found themselves under fire of a very excited, very wet dog, who had just come back from his dip in the pond and wanted in on the hug.

“Ah!” Maru felt water splatter against her arm and tried to shield herself using (Y/n)’s body. (Y/n) tried to hide the flowers between them so they wouldn’t get ruined by the over excited dog.

Cashew rubbed his wet, smelly fur against them as he ran a few tight circles then finally ran off into the tall grass.

“That dog!” (Y/n) huffed, but then Maru started to laugh and they couldn’t help but join in.

“He’s just excited that we’re finally together.” Maru joked, “He’s a good boy, an angel really.”

“I hope you liked living with him thus far because I can’t get rid of him.”

“Is that your way of inviting me to move in with you?”

“I mean, if you think it’s too soon I totally understand.”

“I think we’ve done a lot of waiting. It’s time to do something a little impulsive.” Maru looked behind her at the old farmhouse, “We really need to give this place an upgrade though. I’ll need a place to put all my robotics and my telescope.

“Oh Yoba.” (Y/n) smacked their hand against their face.

“What? What is it?”

“Your parents and Seb! What will they think about this? It was only supposed to be temporary, I feel like your dad might kill me.”

“He’s not going to kill you. If it makes you feel any better, Seb and mom have been teasing me about you for years. They’ll probably be relieved that we finally got together. The strawberries will help dad come around to the idea. Despite how he may act sometimes, he really likes you.”

“You really think it’ll be okay?”

Maru pressed a quick kiss against (Y/n)’s cheek, leaving the scent of strawberries in her wake. Shyly meeting (Y/n)’s eyes, she displayed a peaceful smile.

“I do.”

And it was.

Robin was ecstatic, though she seemed more excited about the prospect of upgrading the house once that was brought up. Sebastian was more quiet about it, but no less happy for his sister. He only wondered why it took so long to happen in the first place. Demetrius looked a little tense when the news hit him, but seeing how happy Maru was (and getting a generous basket of strawberries) he relaxed and even smiled when he watched his daughter take the Farmer’s hand in her own.

Who would have guessed that a slipped disk would have finally brought them to this point?

[prettyyoungandbored]

Becoming Mrs. Wayne [The Dark Knight] Ten

Pairing: Christian Bale!Bruce Wayne x OC

Summary: Demetria Gallagher knew her cozy life would change the second she became engaged to Bruce Wayne. But what she doesn’t know is she’s getting more than what she agreed to. (I am trash at summaries.)

Warning: Mentions of a panic attack

Taglist: dragonballluver, disgraceful-marvel-trash, barikawho, claudiahxrdy​ , christianbalefanatic, librarianafterdark (Let me know if you want to be tagged in this!)

Previous

After it was revealed the shooting at West Point Apartments on 78th wasn’t Joker-related, a call came in from The Joker himself.

“Eighth and Orchard. You’ll find Harvey Dent there.” 

Demetria’s heart dropped her stomach, chest tightening. Her first night helping Bruce, her very first night, and already her best friend’s life was at stake. 

Her lips shook as she held her breath. 

Without any further thought she turned to the laptop, finding the tracking for the building at Eighth and Orchard. The address for the Banksley Complex popped up. 

Demetria let out a tiny exhale. Breathe, Demetria. This will not get solved if you don’t focus. 

As she tried typed her way into the system, she practiced inhaling and exhaling slowly. Her heartbeat raced as the cameras both inside and outside the complex coming up on the screen. She kept searching until she saw The Joker and two henchmen walk out of Apartment 7B. 

No sign of Harvey. 

Shit. 

She could feel her throat closing in, the inhales and exhales becoming sharper and quicker.

Breathe, Demetria. Breathe.

She let out another long exhale, breath shaken. She pressed the button on the control pad which would help her contact Bruce.

“The Joker is leaving Apartment 7B of the Banksley Complex with two henchmen, one bald and one with brown hair,” she reported, mustering every bit of fake courage in her voice as the tears crawled down her cheek. 

She followed their every move from each camera as she felt time closing in on her. She watched get into a plain white van. That’s when she noticed the license plate number. 

“They’re leaving in a white van, license plate number 7T1DK8,” she reported back to Bruce. 

“Copy,” Bruce responded in his Batman voice. 

She rewinded the security tape back a couple hours, hoping for any sign of Harvey. Every second mattered. Tears continued falling as she searched for a sign of Harvey on the tapes. She went back to hours before The Joker walked in, nothing.  

The pressure of time now weighed heavily on her to the point she could barely breathe. But she had to know, for Harvey’s safety and for her sanity. She had to

“C’mon.”

She found footage of the Joker walking in with his henchmen, no sign of Harvey. 

“Shit.”

She kept searching and searching but no sign. Then Bruce’s voice flooded her ears.

“Just got word from Gordon. No sign of Harvey inside the apartment.” 

Waves of relief washed over her. She exhaled, sniffling as tears of fear were quickly replace with tears of joy. The Joker, once again, played Batman and the police. At least Harvey had been safe.

She leaned back in the chair when her eyes fell to her purse on the ground. She looked in her purse where her anti-anxiety medication was. 

“Fuck.”

================

Demetria twirled with her engagement ring, waiting for Bruce to enter the cave at any moment. He had sent her a text that he was making his way back to the cave. 

She couldn’t remember the last time she pulled an all-nighter. She turned on one of the TV screens, figuring she could catch some old show to relax her brain. 

The first show that popped up was  “Gotham Soap Box with Bradley Voss”, an opinion news show on GCN. 

She likened Bradley Voss to a conservative version of Seth Meyers, but with a voice fit for a children’s tv show character. He never wore suits, but rather an unkempt button downs with a patterned tie. 

She would’ve turned off the show had she not seen a photo of her leaving the hospital pop off. The lower third read “IS THE JOKER TELLING THE TRUTH ABOUT THE FUTURE MRS. WAYNE?” 

“So, look, I don’t want to believe or promote the idea that a guy like The Joker has any sort of brain cell,” Bradley said, “but I do think he raised a good question about District Attorney Harvey Dent’s relationship with Bruce Wayne’s fiancé.” 

She knew better than to continue watching, but she couldn’t bring herself to change the channel. 

“I mean, here’s this woman, Demetria Gallagher. She works - sorry, worked - for this network, GCN. She’s worked in the media for years, I mean, for all we know, she’s used her skills to get herself a ring. Bruce Wayne’s dated several women of stature and status, and this is who he choses to put a ring on? I don’t get it. And that op-ed? ‘Harvey’s my confidant, my family? Bruce and I’s marriage will be our marriage?’”

He scoffed. “Get real.”

His words cut like a thousand knives. The stitches on her arms felt like nothing compared to Bradley’s criticisms. The worst part, Bradley was considered to be “the voice of the people of Gotham City.”

She knew she would be berated no matter what she did, and even when she tried her damndest, she still lost. She tried to make herself appealing and for what? To still get trashed by people who didn’t even know her? 

���Moving on now to the economy-” Bradley started, but was cut off when she turned off the tv. 

“I’ve always found his show to be rather boring.” 

She turned to see Alfred walking toward her. She wiped her eyes quickly, hoping to hide the tears. 

“He’s clearly got a following if he’s still on the air,” she remarked, clearing her throat. “Anyway, what’re you doing up this late? You doing ok?” 

“I couldn’t sleep so I figured I’d come help since you’re new to this,” he said, taking a seat across from her. 

“He’s already on his way back, but I always love your company.” 

Alfred smiled as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, Priority Mail envelope. “You received this from your mum today.”

She took the envelope from Alfred’s hands. “She didn’t tell me she was sending me anything.” 

“Nothing wrong with a surprise here and there.” 

She chuckled. “Yeah, after that shitshow of a party I think I’m done with surprises for awhile.” 

She opened the envelope to find one envelope with a post-it on. She picked up the Post-It to find a handwritten note from her mother.

Dem, 

I found this and figured that even though it was written long ago, the message is timeless. You need it now more than ever.

Remember to come home once-in-a-while. 

Love,

Mom

She let out a small chuckle before reaching into the envelope and finding a card. It was a plain card with the exception of the cursive, silver lettering which read “To My Daughter...”

The moment she opened the card, her mouth fell open. Her wide-eyed gaze glimmered as tears began to form. 

Dem,

As you graduate college, I want you to know that watching you grow into the woman you’ve become has been a privilege and an honor. 

While you’re off in the world, I want you to remember one thing: persevere with authenticity. 

Whenever you’re faced with a challenge, you must preserve. You have strength, whether or not you choose to believe it. I’ve seen it in you before and I know that once you recognize it and fully grasp it, it’s the world that should be afraid of you. 

Although I’ve seen the doors shut in your face, I’ve seen you break some down. Remember the ones you opened, because that ones that shut you off don’t deserve a second thought.

While you’re overcoming these obstacles, don’t forget to stay true to who you are.I’ve never forgotten the night you apologized to me and your mother for not being the easiest child. We never loved you less because you required more than any child. I was always proud of you and I always will be. 

I never want to see you apologize for being who you are. The people who love you love you, flaws and all. 

I can’t wait to see you take on the world. And again, persevere with authenticity.

Also, don’t forget to call and come home once-in-awhile.

Love you always,

Dad.

Her lips pulled back, tears trickling down her hot cheeks as soft sobs escaped her lips. 

“Miss Gallagher?” Alfred questioned.

She handed him the card. The old man took it, reading through the handwritten letter. 

“I didn’t know it existed,” she explained, sniffling. “I just...maybe she tried to give it to me then, but-I mean, he passed two months before and...I mean, he probably wrote it when I was freaking out about not having a job after graduation...”

She went over to the desk in hopes of a tissue only to not find one. She banged on the desk. 

“How does he not have tissues in here?!” she exclaimed. 

Alfred pulled out a handkerchief from his coat and handed it to her. She accepted. 

“I apologize in advance for ruining this,” she softy joked. 

“I think, Miss Gallagher,” Alfred spoke up, “that although the message in it was intended for the situation you had at time, that it was better suited to come to you during this time. ‘The people who love you love you, flaws and all.’ You have your family, Mr. Dent, Miss Dawes, and Master Wayne - all who love you dearly.”

She gave him a small smile. “And you?” 

“Myself as well.” 

She gave him a hug, the old man welcoming it. “I love you too, Alfred.” 

“I know you do.” 

“You know what?” 

The two looked up to see Bruce walking in. He was still in the Batman outfit with the exception of the cowl, which he held in his hands. He stopped when he saw Demetria’s face. 

“Are you alright?” he questioned.

She held up the card. “My mom sent me a letter my dad was supposed to give me for my college graduation and, uh...well, you know.” She pointed to her eyes. “Shit got a little too real.” 

He bent down, kissing the top of her head. “You did great tonight. I’m really proud of you.” 

“Did you find anything?” 

He placed down a brick with a gunshot hole in it. “We’ll test for fingerprints later. He did plant his next victim.” 

“And that is...?”

“The mayor.” 

“Of course it is.” 

====================

There was something Demetria found oddly peaceful about driving late at night in the city with Bruce. It was as if they were the only people left in the city. 

Demetria looked out the window, her dad’s letter playing over in her head. She thought once she sent out the editorial, things would go back to normal. Now, she was wondering if the op-ed had been worth it. Not only had it pandered to the critics, but it had put Harvey and possibly Bruce in danger. 

Had she accepted what was to come, had she just let it go things would’ve been fine. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Bruce asked, breaking the silence. 

She looked over at him.  “I owe you an apology.” 

“What for?” 

She was quiet for a moment. “When we got engaged, I thought I had to be something or be someone of value to everyone. I thought I had to be, you know, ‘Mrs. Wayne’ or be better than a socialite because that’s that everyone expected me. But you never did and I never took that into consideration. I said ‘yes’ to you because I love you and I love the life we’ve created together. I don’t want to have to prove myself to people I don’t know or care about. All I want to do is be with you. I’m sorry I forgot that and I’m sorry I drove you crazy about wanting to be someone I wasn’t.”

When Bruce stopped at a red light, he turned to look over at her. “Demetria, I will only ever ask three things from you - don’t lie, don’t change who you are, and don’t apologize to me.” 

“I just need to ask you one thing,” she said. “Are you upset I put out that op-ed?” 

“The opposite.” 

“But it put you, me, and Harvey-.” 

“It was already known that you were a part of Harvey’s circle. The Joker would’ve tried to come after you regardless if you had published it. As for Harvey, he’s the D.A. The target was put on his back the day he got the job.” 

“What about you?”  

“The persona I built protects me. The women, the antics - the entire facade protects me.” 

“So the women? You never...?” 

“Nope.” 

“So...it was just me?” 

“During that time, yes. Although I’ve actually dated plenty of women, you know, long before the ‘playboy’ stuff.” 

“I figured.” 

“But I was proud of you for what you did. You did something I always wished I could do.”

She kissed his cheek. “I love you and I’m sor-.” 

“Demetria.” 

“You’re right. You’re right. I’m done.” 

[pretty-face-breaker]

► Harvey, you should totally steal Hayko for the day

► Nick, you should definitely come home and find out

c.w. kidnapping, referenced beating, non-consensual drugging, threats of violence, fade to black choking 

—

Hayko’s head throbbed with each bump on the road, and not just because he had eaten a nasty punch to it moments earlier in the condo. There was a dull, rhythmic throbbing making his thoughts swirl, loosening his grip so that it slipped off the door handle when he tried it to no avail. 

When Harvey noticed, he clicked it shut instantly. “Forgot about that, babe, thanks.”

“Nngh-... asshole,” he slurred as the sound reached him. “Really roofied me too?...” He heard him bark out a laugh at that before he reached out and pinched his arm. 

Hayko winced, shifted in his seat.

“See? Not all your feeling’s gone. Besides, I never intended on that in the first place.” 

Harvey pulled his hand back to the wheel, deliberating it for a moment before he went for the radio dial to let the sound of an old Joy Division tune fill out the car. Almost instantly, he caught on and began humming happily and Hayko could have sworn he had heard Nick play it before on one of the odd nights he had been equally out of it and tied to a chair. 

“That keep calling me,” he sang from his chest, imitating gruffness, “Keep on calling me. They keep calling me.”

One more turn of the wheels and a warm streak rolled down Hayko’s temple and nose simultaneously, painting a streak over his lip. The familiar taste of pennies on his tongue that he just couldn’t keep out. 

His muscles wouldn’t allow it.

They hardly worked. 

“He’s gon’ find you and fuckin’... kill you, you prick,” Hayko forced through his teeth, cutting himself off with a grunt at the pressure of the window against his head. 

“Oh, don’t worry, we have a little fun together all the time. I take his things and he takes mine. Since university. You won’t be an exception, gorgeous,” he purred. “By the time I’m done with you, he’ll be lucky if he gets a word out of you, your throat’s gonna be so fucking hoarse.” 

Hayko swallowed, tightened himself into the seat as Harvey’s adoring laughter crawled over his skin. Wondered where Nick was, whether he had noticed he was missing yet.

Whether he cared at all to have already taken off. 

Whether this was his idea.

He shook the last one out of his head. With the level of possession he had seen from the man over him, there was no doubt it wasn’t planned. He thought back to him throwing the blond out of the house, the threats echoing mechanically in the back of his mind. 

“If you’re not out of my driveway in three minutes-”

Hayko reeled as the car screeched to a stop under the sudden shadow of a roof, garage, something of the like. The world became darker, the air thicker. And the featherlight grace of fingers over his bare arm, climbing to his sleeve and tugging on it brought his breaths to a whimper. Whimpers to a gasp, to a plea. He couldn’t deal with this.  

“Wakey wakey, Hay-ko.” 

He squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as his muscles would allow. “Please, don’...” Hated begging like this. Knew he needed to for the sake of having to deal with the aftermath himself. Even the thought of aftermath gripped him by the neck. The man was so fucking unpredictable, who knew if he would make him answer for this? 

Another laugh from Harvey, whose hand snaked around his throat now, fitting easily into the bruised remnants that seemed to never fade. He made sure of that. Hayko saw a smile gleam in the dark, bright and dangerous, eerily similar to Nick’s. 

“These next few hours are going to be fun, yeah?” 

Hayko didn’t have a breath to cut off. 

-

Tagging @doveotions @heathenville @thewhumpstuff @thatsthewhump @adamantem-rose @lonesome--hunter @whumpsorbetism @whumpasaurus101 @lektricfergus (part 1)

[fairylight21]

Jeremiah Valeska x reader (Part 1)

Prompt: You’re a crime investigator for the GCPD and you get kidnapped by Jeremiah. 

Warnings: violence, kidnapping

Words: 995

You sit by Jim Gordon’s desk, waiting as he finishes an interrogation. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the one and only Jeremiah Valeska in one of the jail cells. He’s handcuffed at the wrists and ankles as he sits cross legged in the cell. His face is badly bruised and bashed paired with small traces of blood. You quickly realise he’s staring at you intently. Knowing he attempted to murder your coworker in one of the most horrific ways imaginable, it made you feel very uncomfortable. You quickly look away and try not to think about it. Before you knew it, your dad and Harvey were finished with the interrogation. You stand up from the chair as Jim approaches with a look of intrigue.

“(Y/N) what are you doing here?” he asks.

“I’ve brought you some more pieces of evidence from the crime scene of that murder case last week,” you reply handing him the files.

Jim skims through the files. “Thank you (Y/N). Your work is always appreciated. Now go home and get some rest, you’ve earned it.” 

“Thank you Mr. Gordon.” 

“No problem, and please call me, Jim.”  

With that Jim rushes over to one of his coworkers with the files and begins to review them.

You pick up your bag and proceed to the door. As you walk by the jail cells a familiar voice stops you in your tracks.

“Going somewhere?” It’s the voice of Jeremiah Valeska. You turn to face him. He’s in the same position he was when you first noticed him. You can see that he’s got two black eyes and a busted lip. One of his eyes is half-open due to the swelling around it. He didn’t seem to have any emotional reaction to his injuries, however. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know, freak,” you say as sternly as possible despite being utterly terrified. 

“As a matter of fact I would,” he replies. 

“If you must know I’m going back home and-”

“Is that because Jimbo told you to?” 

“No,” you lied.

“Then why are you leaving? Stick around for a while so we can talk some more. I must admit I feel quite lonely in this cell and I could use some company, especially by someone as breathtaking as you my dear.”

You couldn’t believe this. Jeremiah Valeska, the most feared and despised man in all of Gotham City was hitting on you, the daughter of his biggest enemy. You can’t help but feel a little flattered by his comment, but at the same time, a little disturbed given the crimes he committed or attempted to commit that is. 

“Listen, you’re about as likely to have a chance with me as you do escaping that cell.”

With that, I quickly rush out of the police station and back to the house.    

 I awake in the middle of the night to the sound of the front door and windows breaking.

“Let’s get her boys!” someone shouts from down stairs. My heart sinks as I realize they’re referring to me. Footsteps echo through the hallway as the criminals make their way upstairs. I quickly crawl out of my bed to hide in my closet just in time. The thieves bust the door open and enter. 

“I don’t see her,” one of them says.

“Neither do I,” another replies. 

I cover my mouth so they can’t hear my heavy breathing. They grab stuff to keep or just break. They look around the room and point their guns at any sound they hear. 

“Check the closet.” 

My heart sinks even further to the point where it feels like it’s in my stomach. I hold my breath as one of them walks towards the closet. I attempt to shift towards the side to avoid being seen. However, I accidentally knock over a box of old clothes. The group gets excited and runs to open the door. 

“There she is!” one of them shouts in excitement. 

I scream as they grab me by my arms and legs, dragging me out of my room and downstairs. 

“Let me go you maniacs!” I yell.

“No can do!” One of them replies. “We only answer to Jeremiah!” 

I’m rendered speechless by his response. What does Jeremiah want with me? I feel like throwing up at the thought of what he could do to me. When we reach the living room I’m horrified to see Jeremiah and his assistant, Ecco standing in my living room. I want to scream but I’m in too much shock to do so. 

“There she is,” Jeremiah says as a malicious grin spreads across his face, “where did you find her?”

“Her bedroom closet sir,” replies the man holding my right arm. 

“How predictable,” Jeremiah chuckles. He steps close to me and places his index and middle finger below my chin, lifting it so we’re making eye contact. 

“Did you really think you could hide from me?” 

I turn away from him and close my eyes as tears begin to form. 

He turns his head and nods to his assistant. She nods in reply as she opens up a brief case and begins constructing something. 

“Why are you doing this?” I ask. 

“At the police station, you said that I had as much of a chance with you as I did escaping that cell. Well, here I am.”

Now I feel like actually throwing up. I’ve put myself in this situation instead of keeping my mouth shut. I should’ve never underestimated Jeremiah. 

“All systems go boss,” Ecco says with a grin on her face. 

“Excellent,” he replies before turning his attention back to me.   

“Hold still my dear,” says Jeremiah as he cups both sides of my face, rendering me unable to move. “I don’t want this to be more difficult than it has to be.” 

Suddenly there’s a sharp pain radiating throughout the left side of my neck and everything in my vision goes black. 

[jeromesxreader16]

Such a Joker (51)

Part 50 Here!

~o0o~

I scan through paint swatches, holding it up to the walls of the nursery contemplating the vast difference in the outcome. "I like this blue." Jeremiah picks up a swatch and tapes it to the wall. I smile as he narrows his hands focusing on the paint. He nods looking around the room. "We can put both the cribs against the wall here and place the changing station in the middle. Rocking chairs in either corner." He smiles with his accomplished plan.

"What do you think, boys?" He asks kneeling at my stomach. I scoff smiling, "How do you know these boys of yours aren't girls?" Jeremiah leans down pressing his ear on my swollen belly.

"Hmm. Yes. What was that? Of course, I'll let mommy know."

Jeremiah stands cupping my face. "You're children don't like the vitamin shake you drink." I roll my eyes walking away and taping a light pink swatch of paint on the wall.

Jeremiah raises a brow smirking. "Really, (Y/n)?" I shrug beaming. "You never know, Jer."

~

I look out the large window looking at the starved and rotten Gotham. I sigh sipping at my morning tea Ecco brought me.

"You're sighing again." I look over at her smiling. "You say that a lot." "It's because you sit there looking like a princess waiting for someone to come." I shake my head at Ecco laughing. "You're crazy, Ecco."

She hops in front of me smirking. "We could be bad, ya know? Sneak out. Just for a little." I narrow my eyes leaning in. "Keep talking."

~

Jeremiah POV:

Coming up the elevator into the late hours of the night to finally take rest next to my wife. "The tunnel is coming along nicely," Ecco says standing beside me. "Yes, there is much to do."

"Ecco, does my darling ever speak of life before this?" Ecco nods at me. "Mrs. Valeska always loves to spend time thinking of the good days." I hum reconnecting ways to make her happy. "I'll have to send her on a little trip out of our little Dark Zone."

I open the door to our room removing my tie and shirt and putting them away.

I walk over to my wife and rest my hands on her stomach holding my children. "We're not supposed to be here." I sigh resting my head against her. "I'm trying my best to get us out of here, loves."

She rolls to her side causing me to chuckle. I kiss her head cuddling into her in our sheets, dreaming of escaping Gotham with my family.

~

"Remember, love. Tonight is another graduation for the troops. It is still too dangerous. Care to take a trip to the Sirens today? I thought about sending you to have a full week of fun." Jeremiah asks as I cuddle into his side. "Yeah. I could use some girl time. If you're alright with having me away that long." Jeremiah holds my chin gazing into my eyes. "I love you so much, darling."

"I love you, Jeremiah." His smile warms my heart as he descends the elevator. "Behave yourself, loves."

~

I step out of the car smiling at the large buildings all so familiar. "Hello, Sirens." I grab the railing to step inside but am bumped by a force making me stumble.

"I - I'm so sorry, miss!" I look down at a little boy with bruises and scratches all over his body. I kneel gasping at his frame. "Oh, honey." He looks behind his shoulder gulping. "You have to help me, please."

I look up at the building thinking over my plans. Jeremiah told me to go here and only here, but it's not like he knew I was going to run into an abandoned child!

I nod at the small kid getting back in my car. "Come on, kid." He jumps in my car closing the door and gasping. "Thank you! Thank you so much, miss!" I smile sadly at the frightened little boy.

"Where are you going? Where can I take you?"

He looks at me with hopeful eyes. "The Haven."

I've heard whispers of the spot concealed in safety for a couple of weeks now. "I have an idea of where it is. I'll take you there."

He nods smiling, "My name is Will Thomas." He offers his hand.

"(Y/n) Valeska. It's good to meet you, Will." He smiles shaking my hand.

~

"Whoa." Will gasps as the large caged in the apartment corner appears. "Yeah," I say taking a look at all the people smiling. "Are you coming with me? I have to find someone who can help my brother and sister!" I nod turning off the car. "Yeah. I'm not sure who all lives here, but I can help you look around."

Walking in the small compound many of the people were friendly in this trying time.

I walk up holding Will's weak hand. "Excuse me, sir." He turns to me confused. "Yes?" "This boy needs your help." I try to usher him and scatter away but a hand reaches out grasping my wrist as I walk away from them.

I look up meeting my father's eyes through the shades. "(Y/n)?"

I smile removing the glasses. "Jim." he crumbles losing his balance. "Where have you been?" I shake my head tugging at my arm. "I-I can't be here."

I run away slipping out of the Haven untouched and back to my car as my father runs out screaming my name. I drive to the club again and entering as nothing happened.

"(Y/n)!" Babs screams running to me. "Oh, my! You've filled out!" I laugh pushing out my stomach. "Well, when you've got two fighting for space."

~

Jim POV:

That was her. My girl. My beautiful daughter walking right in and then scurried away faster than wildfire. "Jim, was that-" I turn to Harvey with a smile breaking my features. "Yeah. That was (Y/n)." Harvey pats my shoulder. "I know you're thinking you have to find her at this very second and trust me I do too, but we've got another pressing thing. Like this mystery kid." Harvey pulls me away from my thoughts.

"Right. What do we know?"

"His name is Will Thomas. Parents died in a home invasion a few weeks after the bridges came down. Guys that broke in took him to some sort of factory where he was held alongside dozens of other stolen kids, all chained together."

"God. Who are these guys?" "Call themselves The Soothsayers."

"You ever heard of them?" "No. But who can keep track these days?"

"Which district?" "Granton. Near the water, he said. Had them digging some sort of tunnel. Will broke free from his restraints last night and walked nine miles through the Dark Zone and found Mrs. Valeska in the Sirens block. She brought him here."

"What kind of tunnel?"

"Unclear."

"There's an abandoned waterworks by the old dock in Granton."

"Detective Gordon?" The small boy asks. "My friends. You'll save them, won't you?" I nod at him holding a smile. "I'll look into it."

"The Soothsayers won't be happy I escaped. They'll punish

the others for it. Please, Mr. Gordon. I promised them I'd bring help."

~

"Gosh, I can't wait until I can drink again." I laugh at Babara from behind the bar as she throws down a shot. "Oh, me and you both. Push those kids onto that pale freak and go wild!"

Feet away the crowd split and they still their ongoing conversations. None other than James Gordon walks over to Barbara. I duck under the bar hiding in plain sight.

"Barbara." She looks down at me before turning to ace my father. "Jim, what brings you crawling out into the open tonight? Come to join the party? One last hoorah before someone wastes you?" She smirks taking another shot before slamming it down.

"I'm here to ask a favor. Maybe some information if you have it."

"A favor plus info, right. Is this after you stood by and did nothing while my best friend on this Earth was stabbed through the heart?"

"I put him down."

"You restored his limp."

"HE SHOULD BE DEAD!"

Jim sighs, "Barbara." She cuts him off with her screams. "Everybody out! Now! I said move!"

As they file out and the music comes to a halt I shiver on my knees. Why am I doing this? Hiding from my blood.

"Planning revenge?" "Well, someone has to do something about that freak."

"He has an army. It would be suicide." "Look around, Jim. We're all slowly dying. Just some of us get to choose how."

"I'm sorry about what happened to Tabitha."

Babs brushes off the matter scoffing, "So, these favors?"

"I need transportation. Trucks, maybe."

"Where are you going?"

"It's a police matter," Jim says making me hold in a laugh. How could police exist nowadays?

"You know, they should really write that on your tombstone. They're downstairs in the basement lot. Knock yourself out. Drive right into this nightmare you created. You won't last a night."

He stays quiet for a moment before asking, "Have you seen (y/n)?" Barbara chuckles, "And if I did, what makes you think she wants to see her father who turned her own happiness away?" I peer over the bar watching my father's eyes drop and sadness fills his emotions. He turns away from the bar walking away. "Thank you for the trucks."

I pop up resting my elbows on the counter. "You didn't have to yell at him." Babs turns to me locking eyes. She breaks shaking her head with a sad smile. "No, I guess I didn't." I come around the bar sitting beside her. "You really think he won't last out there?" She turns to me smirking. "Not if he has some help. How long are you staying here?" I shrug, "Jeremiah doesn't need me around when the church graduates. He said the tension in the air is stressful for the babies." She scoffs laughing. "Right, because he's Mr. smartypants."

~

I sit on the couch watching TV as Babs strides through tossing my gun at me. "Load it and follow me." I stand following her. "Uh, why do I need a gun?" She turns back to me as walks into the garage.

"We're going to help Jimmy. You want to drive?"

I smile at her nodding. "Okay."

~

"Wait, slow down! I hear something." Barbara says causing me to stop the vehicle equipped with machine guns on the empty road. "I won't say it again, freak. Gordon comes with me."

I smile at her, "Jackpot!"

"I'll tell you what! I'll take his head, and you can have the rest of him!"

"NOW!" I scream as we whip around the corner and shoot down the punks. Barabra hops out fo the car walking towards my father.

"Hi, Jim. About our last chat... I may have been a little rash. This what got you all hot and bothered? They need a bath."

"Crazy bi-" I stand from my seat shooting the armed man aiming at Babs. As I hit the target, my father does as well.

He looks at me in shock. "(Y/n)?" I smile sitting back and cranking the car.

"Oh, lookie there. I found her. Not all square yet though. You're gonna help me do what we all know needs doing."

"Oh, yeah? What's that?"

"Kill Penguin."

~

I gaze and smile a all the happy citizens in the Haven. "This is amazing."

"Citizens are heading here in droves. This place will be full

by sundown." Jim nods looking around. "Then we'll find another."

I look up at him. "I figured you left when the evacuation was called." My father puts an arm across my shoulder pulling me to him. "You were still here. I was never going to leave without you. Especially now with these two." He says placing a hand on my stomach.

A woman walks up with her younger ones grinning at Jim. "I just want to thank you, Captain Gordon. My family, we've been drifting from one place to the next ever since the blackout. You've delivered us." She walks away beaming with joy, leaving my father with a raised head and confidence and honor beaming from him.

His moment soon ruined by Barbara scoffing, "Seriously?" She rolls her eyes looking at me. "You know he'll be angry with you if he finds you here. You're staying with me so my ass will be burned."

I look back at Babs and my father. He grabs my wrist looking me in the eyes. "You can't go back, (Y/n). Look at what he's done!" I close my eyes gathering my emotions. "Jim, please let me go so I can go home to my husband. This will end ugly if you refuse." He looks at me with shock and shakes his head. "No, I found you and now I'm going to keep the three of you safe from him." I rip my arm out of his grip. "I came to you! I understand you're upset, I do. But... Daddy's little girl is gone, I married him, he is the father of my children, and that won't change. You can either fight it and our contact will end, or..." I take out his pen from his pocket and grab his hand, writing my phone number. "You can accept me for the person I have become, and call me."

Jim nods sadly. He places his hand on mine. "I love you, (Y/n)." I nod smiling at my father. "I hope so." I back up walking next to Barbara.

"I'll see you around, killer. We have some unfinished business, you and I." She nods to him as we exit the gates.

~

"How was the day, darling? Have my twins kicked you anymore? I talked with them the other night." I giggle over the line laying on the big bed in the guest room of Barbara's home. "They've been fine, Jer. How was the first day of the graduates?" He sighs over the phone. "10 go in and only 4 complete the trial. It's quite disappointing." "I bet you'll have more tomorrow. It is a new day after all." "Indeed, love."

I snuggle in my covers rubbing my belly. "Get some rest, Jeremiah. I'll see you soon." He hums in the line. "I do hope so, darling. I love you." I smile feeling complete. "I love you too, Jeremiah."

As the call ends it suddenly rings again. I pick it up figuring it to be Jeremiah, once more. "Did you forget something?" I giggle over the line. "(Y/n)?" Jim's shaky voice comes through. "Dad."

He sighs and speaks, "Hi honey. H-How are you?"

At this time I talk to my father and open the door that has been shut so long.

"Hey! How about we meet up for lunch when we can?" I laugh at him, "You're going to act like everything's normal and grab a sub?" "Why not? I've got my family back."

A piercing giggle springs from the bathroom. Jerome walks out with sunglasses and posing in the mirror. "I'm going to tell."

I shake my head at him as my father talks. Jerome cackles and runs to the door making me chase after him tripping him. "OW! Workers comp!" He cries.

He stands up giggling. "Ole Jimmy. Always slithering around and shitting on our lives. Brother will be mad, (Y/n), you know that."

"Goodnight, Dad."

I hang up rolling on my side and cuddling into the sheets. "He won't find out, Jerome." He scoffs cuddling close to me. "Lying to your husband? You naughty girl."

I laugh into the pillow. "Goodnight, Jerome." 

[bearly-writing]

So that gunshot wound fic you wrote was AMAZING. While savoring every word, I was thinking that I’d really love to also read something with older, Red Hood era Jay being protective of Dick. So, if you don’t mind, could I request the Burns square for Dick with Jay??

Thank you very much for such a lovely compliment! I am so sorry that this is taken SO long to write! I hope that it’s at least slightly what you were looking for and that you enjoy it :)

All of my prompts have now been requested! Thank you everyone who’s requested something - I know I’m getting through these painfully slowly, but I promise I am getting through them! :)

Under The Skin

Fandom: Batman

Prompt: Burns

Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne

Warnings: Violence, Blood and Injury, Gun Violence, Gore, Burns, Acid burns, Torture, Permanent injury, Career-ending injuries

Summary: This is exactly what Jason means about Gotham’s villains. Two-Face can’t just shoot Dick, or beat him, or, hell, mutilate him a little. It has to be a fucking performance. It has to be totally goddamn insane.

Read it on AO3 here!

There will be a second part to this. I’ll add the link in here once it’s been posted!

The problem with Gotham, Jason thinks bitterly, is that everyone has a fucking gimmick. No one seems capable of doing anything in this city without putting on a goofy outfit first: Freeze, Catwoman, the Riddler, the Joker – fucking Batman can’t fight crime without his fur suit. It wears thin after a while. Jason is tired of the overwrought jokes and the overly-contrived crimes. What happened to the good old-fashioned thugs? What happened to a classic get-your-hands-dirty beating? Jason would take that over Batman’s rogue gallery any day. He would take a punch to the face over sitting here listening to Two-Face rattle on about chance and probability and rolling that fucked up coin between his fingers in a heartbeat.

“I’m a fair man,” Dent is saying, the coin flashing beneath the glare of the bare bulb above them: warehouse-torture-room aesthetic at its finest.

Jason snorts and Dick throws him a look that’s almost physical. It’s easy to ignore, though – Jason’s had plenty of practice.

“If you want it to be fair, then untie us and fight us properly.”

That earns him a cold look, but not much else. One day that sort of goading will work – until then Jason will have to make do with tugging fruitlessly at the cuffs binding his hands behind him again and snarling.

“I’m a fair man,” Dent repeats. He smiles with the side of his face that isn’t mangled flesh and exposed bone. “You’ve both been poking around where you shouldn’t be. I should kill you for that, but I want to give you a chance.”

Flash, flash, flash, goes the coin. Watching it makes Jason feel dizzy and he has to shut his eyes to stop the room from spinning, has to tighten his throat against the anxiety that’s slowly expanding in his stomach. A 50-50 chance. That’s Two-Face’s shtick. Not the most inventive gimmick in the world, but with a face like his, Jason supposes there aren’t many other options. Except not becoming a homicidal maniac, of course, but then, Jason doesn’t have much room to judge on that count.

Footsteps, loud against the concrete floor. A shadow falls across Jason. When his eyes snap open, almost automatically, Two-Face is standing over him, leering down at him. Jason tries to jerk away but there’s not much space to put between them whilst he’s tied to a chair.

Two-Face grins. Scarred fingers grip Jason’s chin, tilting his head up. “You first, I think.”

Flash, flash, flash.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jason can see Dick’s face, pale and tense, attention focused like a laser-point to the press of fingers against Jason’s skin.

“Red Hood doesn’t have anything to do with this,” Dick snaps, because he’s too stupid and self-sacrificing to not draw attention to himself. “If you really want to be fair, you’ll let him go.”

Because that has always worked for them.

Two-Face ignores him, of course.

“This side –“ The coin stops spinning. Two-Face holds it up between his fingers, the smooth side facing out. “- and you get to go unscathed. This side –“ A twist, then it’s the scarred side facing them. “- and I leave you with a little reminder of exactly why you should stay away.”

Jason rolls his eyes. Which came first, he wonders? Is it Batman’s fault that all of the villains in Gotham are like this? Or is Batman a product of whatever chemical is clearly floating around in the air too? He wishes Two-Face would let go of him. Wishes that he and Dick hadn’t crashed the villain’s party in the first place.

“Get on with it,” he snarls, because he can’t figure out how to get out of his bonds with Two-Face standing so close, and he’s been sitting in this chair for long enough that his ass has gone numb.

The coin flips up into the air and Jason tightens his gut to prevent his stomach from doing the same. It lands in the palm of Dent’s hand with a soft thud. The villain glances at it, and Jason struggles to read his face, but it’s difficult to parse an expression from the mess of scars. Then the coin is extended towards him. Shiny side up. Jason breathes a soft sigh of relief. Beside him, Dick strains in his own bonds, trying to get a look at Jason’s fate.

“Lucky,” Two-Face murmurs, but he’s smiling that creepy half-smile. Jason can’t tell if he’s angry or not. At least he lets go of Jason’s face, finally, if only to stalk across the warehouse towards Dick. “Your turn.”

“Let Red Hood go first – that was your bargain.”

“No,” Jason snaps, because he’s tired of feeling so out of control here and he’s tired of Dick throwing himself on the fire every fucking chance he gets. Jason doesn’t need anyone to coddle him, and he definitely doesn’t need Dick martyring himself for his sake – if only because the others would never forgive him for letting golden boy get hurt when Jason’s here to take the punishment instead. “Take that as Nightwing’s toss and do mine again. Or better yet, let us go and fight us properly.”

Two-Face just shakes his head, still smiling. The effect is unnerving – that bright flash of teeth that shouldn’t be visible even in the widest grin.

“Cute.” He stops in front of Dick’s chair. The vigilante glares up at him with a surprising amount of venom. “You both get your own chance with fate. Then you can both go free when I say you can go free.”

There’s another flash. The soft thud of metal against flesh. Jason can’t help straining forward, even as he works desperately at the cuffs around his wrists whilst Two-Face is distracted. The metal is digging painfully into his flesh, scraping the skin raw. Something warm trickles over his hands – blood probably, but Jason doesn’t have time to care about that. If he can just get the leverage he needs to break his thumb…

“Oh dear.”

One hand stretches out towards Dick. For a long moment, Dick just stares into Dent’s face, gaze locked resolutely on his. Then, as if he can’t help himself, he looks down. Dick recoils. It’s not hard to guess which side came up.

Shit.

Shit, this is bad.

“You cheated,” Jason manages, voice a low, gruff growl. It makes him sound uncomfortably like the Batman, he knows, but he can’t soften his voice when his anxiety is crawling up his throat and choking him. “You fucking cheated.”

Two-Face is on him before Jason even registers the movement. An arm slams hard into Jason’s throat, jerking his head up and rocking him backwards. Pain spears from the point of impact, racing down his spine, setting alarms blaring through Jason’s head. He tries to gasp a startled breath but he can’t suck any air past the press of Harvey’s arm. Pain and pressure lock his throat tight.

“Say that to my fucking face,” Two-Face snarls, inches from Jason’s nose.

Jason struggles. Gasps. The chair is tilted back dangerously, threatening to spill him onto the floor at any moment, but Jason can’t pull himself upright with Two-Face holding him down. Can’t drag in enough air to get the words out.

“Hey! Red Hood goes free. That’s what the coin said. You can’t touch him. Hey!”

Even through the fog of panic, Jason can hear the fear in Dick’s voice. It sends his heart rocketing against his chest. Has his pulse throbbing beneath Two-Face’s arm.

For a long moment, the villain doesn’t move. Then, finally, he pulls away. Jason rocks forward at the release of pressure, gasping in a solid breath of stale, dusty air. Instinctively, he tries to reach for his throat, but the cuffs hold him just as helpless as Two-Face had.

“You’re right,” Two-Face says, calmly, smoothing down his suit, as if he hadn’t just launched himself across the room to strangle Jason. As if he isn’t holding them captive in a sketchy warehouse, threatening them, hurting them. “The coin has decided you go free, Hood. But don’t test me. I can always flip again.”

Jason’s throat is still too tight to manage a scathing reply. He settles for baring his teeth, glaring as darkly as he can manage. Two-Face seems entirely unconcerned, turning away from him to focus his attention back on Dick.

“You’re not so lucky, huh?”

One hand braces against the back of Dick’s chair as Two-Face leans down until he’s right in the vigilante’s face. Dick doesn’t react, just stares back evenly. It’s hard to tell if the confidence is fake or not. Jason knows that Two-Face scares his brother. Knows that Dick still has nightmares, sometimes, from when the villain had beaten him senseless with a baseball bat well before Jason’s ill-fated turn as Robin. Jason understands that.

“Cat got your tongue?” Two-Face smirks.

Scarred fingers twist through Dick’s hair and jerk his head back, forcing his neck into a painful-looking arch. Dick snarls, teeth flashing, the muscles of his arms bunching as if he’s tugging on his restraints. From where he’s sitting, Jason can only see half of his face. Something cold and frightened blooms in Jason’s chest, an awful paranoia born of Two-Face’s proximity, Two-Face’s threats.

“Don’t touch him,” Jason snarls, and Dick’s head jerks, as if he wants to look over despite the hand in his hair holding him still.

Two-Face straightens but he doesn’t let go.

“Stop me,” he says, mildly. “If you can.”

Jason yanks harder on his restraints, feels the skin split beneath unforgiving metal. Snarls. There’s no more give than there was before. As hard as he struggles, he isn’t getting out of these cuffs.

A smirk. “That’s what I thought.”

***

This is exactly what Jason means about Gotham’s villains. Two-Face can’t just shoot Dick, or beat him, or, hell, mutilate him a little. It has to be a fucking performance. It has to be totally goddamn insane.

“This is a joke right?”

Jason tugs harder on the cuffs. It won’t get him anywhere, but it makes him feel a little better and it’s the only thing he can do with Two-Face standing behind him, scarred hand resting heavy on Jason’s shoulder.

He isn’t in the chair anymore, although they haven’t untied his hands. Instead, he’s kneeling on the ground, cold concrete leaching the heat from his knees. There are about fifteen of Two-Face’s men milling about, waiting for the entertainment, and Jason had been stripped of his helmet and most of his gear before he’d been strapped into the chair, but he thinks he could still make a good go of it, if he could just get his hands free. Or even without his hands, if Two-Face wasn’t holding a gun, resting it casually against the back of Jason’s head.

Dick won’t be much help either, and Jason isn’t sure he can take on sixteen people on his own. His brother is more securely bound, ropes wrapping tight across his chest, winding around his arms and cinching his legs together, tethering his ankles to his bound hands to render them immobile. Oh, and he’s also dangling in the air above a wooden platform covering what Jason strongly suspects is a vat of goddamn acid.

Honestly, Gotham. Sometimes Jason feels as though he’s fallen down the fucking rabbit-hole.

“I don’t joke,” Dent says from above him, voice mild, as if he’s commenting on the weather rather than someone dangling over a vat of acid. “I do like to keep to a theme though.”

A theme. Fucking hell.

“You would think you’d stay away from acid,” Jason says, nastily. “Don’t want to fuck up the rest of your face too.”

Two-Face doesn’t rise to the bait. Jason wonders if the theatrics are just for them, or if he’s always like this. There certainly hadn’t seemed to be any themes involved when Two-Face had shot Jason’s good-for-nothing dad dead. Just a short fuse and a gun.

But then, a thug is a thug – maybe caped crusaders require more pizzazz.

“He’s obviously jealous of my good looks,” Dick interjects, surprisingly calm for someone who’s good looks are in imminent danger.

Jason sneers – his skin feels too tight to manage any other expression, pulled taught across the bones of his face. “Well, you could always scar the other side Harv – if you’re looking for a way to improve that mug of yours.”

The gun presses hard into Jason’s skull, rocking his head forward until his neck aches, chin pressed into his chest, staring down at his own lap. It’s an uncomfortably vulnerable position.

“Shut up,” Two-Face orders, voice still mild. There’s no hint of the snarl from earlier, although Jason feels the phantom press of an arm against his throat all the same.

Jason kind of wishes he would lose his temper – Jason can work with anger, particularly if it’s aimed at him. Anger makes most people sloppy. Makes them react without thinking. All Jason needs is the opportunity. But Two-Face has pulled cool and collected Harvey Dent to the surface like a flip of the scarred coin that had doomed Dick earlier.

“My boys have been promised entertainment. The coin has decreed a punishment. Nightwing is taking a little dip and you’re going to sit here and watch it. Isn’t that right boys?”

There’s a ragged cheer. The pressure against Jason’s head lessens. For a moment he doesn’t look up, just keeps his eyes fixed on his legs, feels his heart punching against the curve of his neck. If he can’t see it, maybe it won’t happen. Maybe this is all in his head.

Except, when he finally lifts his head it’s all still there: Dick’s still dangling from that fucking rope like a rat caught in a trap; the vat of acid is still sitting underneath him; the goons are still milling around, watching Dick with hungry eyes. The gun is still hovering close behind Jason’s head.

There’s a flash of light at the edge of Jason’s vision. That stupid coin turning over and over in Two-Face’s fingers. What Jason wouldn’t give to snatch it out of the air, toss it down a drain or bury it under the earth, or maybe throw it with enough force to bury it in Two-Face’s head.

“Take him down,” Dent says. He could be closing a case in court, listening to his voice, rather than sending an innocent man to his death.

Or maybe there’s not such a difference there after all - Jason’s never much liked lawyers.

Across the room one of Two-Face’s goons closes their fist around the lever connected to the winch system Dick is dangling from. There’s a metallic clank. A suspended moment where even the air feels still, as if not a single person in the room is breathing. Then there’s a jolt as the rope holding Nightwing in place starts to unravel, dropping Dick down towards the vat.

“Stop!” Jason snarls.

Panic shreds his voice to something rough and painful. He strains against his bonds, against Two-Face’s looming presence, against the fact that this is happening. A heavy hand layers over his shoulder, pressing him down as he tries to struggle to his feet. Dick drops steadily downwards.

“It’s fine, Hood. I’m fine.”

Because Nightwing is a martyr to the end. Because even as he’s being lowered to his death, he can’t keep his mouth shut, can’t let a moment go by without nobly sacrificing his own wellbeing.

“Shut up,” Jason snaps.

Behind him, Two-Face chuckles, a low, awful sound. If Jason can just get out from underneath him. If he can slip his cuffs and get across the room and pull that fucking lever back up.

“Don’t do this, Dent. You bastard. Let him go.”

As if begging has ever helped anyone. Two-Face ignores him. He’s breathing heavily, fingers pressing savagely into Jason’s shoulder without the protection of his leather jacket between them. Around them, Two-Face’s men jeer and laugh as Dick inches ever closer to the acid beneath him.

His brother’s face is tight with fear now, that strange calmness completely gone, eyes huge and dark. He’s struggling, trying to gather enough momentum to swing himself out of the path of danger, but he’s bound too tightly to have much success. By now, his knees are almost touching the surface. Dick tries to pull them up, to curl them safely against his chest, but the rope between his wrists and ankles pulls taut, holding him in place.

A hollow, frightened sort of hope carves out a space behind Jason’s ribs. It’s the same sensation he had felt, through the agony of his broken bones, his ruptured organs, as he had leaned against the locked warehouse door, waiting for his father to rescue him. It’s stupid. It’s childish. Jason, of all people, should know that you can’t rely on a last-minute rescue, knows that even Batman can be too late. If they’re going to get out of here, Jason can’t rely on the bat. The only person he can rely on is himself.

“Wait,” Dick shouts. The whites of his eyes are bright against his dark skin. “Stop, please! Don’t-“

Batman isn’t going to make it. Jason isn’t even sure if Batman knows they’re here. It’s down to him. No one else is going to save them.

There’s a sharp crack as Jason’s thumb gives way. To Jason, it might as well be loud as a gunshot, but it’s mostly lost beneath the jeers of Two-Face’s men and Dick’s terrified shouts. Jason’s heart is punching so strongly against his throat that it feels a little like it might leap right out of him. He can feel the frantic throb of his pulse in his wrist. There should be pain, Jason thinks, numbly, as he slides his damaged hand out of the cuff, but instead there’s only adrenaline, bunching every muscle in his body, setting his heart ricocheting against his chest.

Two-Face isn’t looking at Jason. Instead, he’s focussed on Dick, exposed teeth and eye gleaming in the harsh light. Jason doesn’t spare any time following his gaze, or hesitating, or waiting for a better opportunity. He acts. Sweeps one leg out to catch Two-Face by the ankles. Rocks him back. Surges up to catch his flailing wrist. The arm in Jason’s grip gives with a satisfying snap beneath the pressure of his elbow and Two-Face howls. Jason lifts one leg and plants his foot solidly against the villain’s chest. The kick sends Two-Face flying, crashing to a groaning, hurting heap against the far wall.

In a matter of seconds, Jason’s arms are free, Two-Face is across the room, and Jason has a gun in his hands. When he spins to face the rest of the room, Two-Face’s men are staring stupidly, attention drawn by the sound of their leader’s scream, but no one has reached for their weapons. No one is prepared for Jason hefting the gun in his hands and opening fire.

There’s green crowding close at the edge of Jason’s vision. A wavering, blurry quality, as if Jason is under water. As if he’s back in the Lazarus pit, drowning in toxic green, water in his mouth, his nose, his throat, pressing in against his eyes. There’s a roaring in his ears, a swelling wave of noise crashing against him. And underneath that, the sharp rapport of gunfire – his and the thugs who haven’t yet been dropped like flies.

“Hood!”

The cry cuts through the strange, tinnitus-ring in Jason’s ears, the green-tinged fog in his head. He blinks. The voice is frightened. Someone’s in danger. There was something Jason was supposed to do.

Then Dick screams and Jason slams back into his body with a jolt like an electric shock.

The lever. Jason needs to get to the fucking lever, now.

Jason isn’t sure if he’s ever moved as fast as he does now, launching himself across the room. He gets a flash of a white, terrified face - the thug’s mouth dark and wide as Jason barrels towards him - before they collide with a force that knocks the breath out of him.

That terrible, agonised scream cleaves the air in two. Jason fumbles. His hands are slick with sweat and blood. They slide hopelessly against the rusty metal of the lever.

Beneath him, the thug struggles for his gun. Jason smashes his fist into his face. Ignores his gurgling cry - barely hears it under the siren-pitch sound of Dick’s pain. Reaches. There’s metal under his hands and something gives and somewhere in the distance Jason hears the rattle of mechanical movement and please, please let that be Dick being pulled free.

The thug is limp beneath him. Jason pushes himself upright in a sort of daze, feeling both very far away from his body and yet strangely present at the same time. The world seems to spin around him. Some of Two-Face’s men are still standing, but no one is firing at him. Most of them are on the floor, lying groaning in pools of blood, or clutching wounds, or crouching in fear.

Above them, Dick is writhing on the end of his rope like a worm on a hook. The black material of his suit is dark around his knees. Liquid drips off of his legs in a slowing stream, splattering across the wood and concrete as he jerks and twists in his restraints. The scream has tapered into a high, choking keen. It’s...it’s a noise unlike anything Jason’s heard before. It pours icy water down his spine, tightens his skin until he feels claustrophobic in his own body, twists cold fingers through his gut.

Dick was dunked - that much is obvious. Dick is hurt. That’s acid clinging to the weave of his suit. Acid darkening his legs. For a long moment, Jason feels paralysed by the realisation. Dick is hurt, Dick is injured, and Jason doesn’t know what to do.

Get him down. That’s the first thing. Jason needs to get him safely on the floor and away from that goddamn vat. He moves almost without meaning to, as if his brain is trailing behind his body, still caught up a few seconds ago. One of the goons, startled by Jason’s sudden movement, fires off a shot. It goes wide, splinters the wall somewhere behind him. Jason doesn’t turn to look. He doesn’t care. If the bullet had ripped through his shoulder, he’s not sure if he would even have noticed.

The gun in his hands comes up automatically to return fire, but Jason doesn’t stop to aim or to check if it hit its mark. He keeps his eyes fixed on Dick. There are a set of shallow steps leading up to the platform. Jason scrambles up them. His whole focus laser-sharp on Dick, his world narrowed to the dark shape of him, the contorted twist of his legs. The rest of the room might as well not even be there. But no one fires on him.

Jason has nothing. Nothing but the gun and his own hands - his jacket, his knives, his fucking boots are all in the other room. Jason could shoot him down, but the acid is still beneath him, and if Dick falls…

But it’s not like Jason has any other choice. If he doesn’t get Dick down now, who knows what could happen. He’ll just have to catch him. He’ll haveto.

Jason launches himself at Dick a second before his gun goes off. For a breathless moment, Dick is free falling, dropping like a stone towards the acid below him. Then Jason collides with him, hard enough to knock the breath from both of them, sending them both crashing to the wooden platform.

Beneath him, Dick makes a choked, breathless sound of pain. Jason rolls off of him as quickly as he can. Fumbles with the ropes holding him tight. Doesn’t look at his legs even as he frees Dick’s arms and torso. Carefully avoids touching where the rope is damp and already falling apart.

Dick writhes. It’s hard to tell whether he’s trying to free himself, or just too caught up in the pain and fear and confusion. His eyes are wide and white, his mouth dark where it’s stretched around the awful little sounds of pain he’s emitting. When he finally frees his arms from the ropes, he reaches automatically for his legs, blindly, and Jason catches his wrists and holds them tight.

Dick’s pulse thrums like a desperate bird beneath his fingers. Jason’s own pulse is beating almost as hard, a sick, throbbing rhythm at the hollow of his throat. When Jason finally glances down at his brother’s legs, his heart almost leaps right out of his mouth.

The fabric around Dick’s knees has melted away almost entirely, leaving ragged, bald patches in Nightwing’s uniform. The skin underneath is already blistering. The flesh is raw and wrinkled, pink and wet in some places, bone white or blackened in others, as if the skin is already dead. Jason has to swallow bile at the sight of it. Feels acid burn at the base of his throat.

Water. He needs water. Needs to get the acid off Dick’s skin. He should cut the uniform off too, get the contaminated fabric away. Or should he? Would removing the fabric, practically melted onto Dick in some places, only make the wound worse? He doesn’t know. He can’t remember. Jason knows that Batman taught him this - knows that first aid for burns was one of the first things he had learned. But the fog in his head is too thick and he can’t think.

Not that there’s much Jason can actually do. There isn’t exactly a handy water source in the middle of the huge concrete warehouse and all of Jason’s gear is piled in the other room: his comm, his jacket, his gloves. Jason is scared to touch Dick’s legs. Scared to hurt him and scared to disable himself. The last thing this situation needs is Jason with acid on his hands.

All he can seem to do is clutch at his brother’s wrists and stare, helplessly. Dick’s face is white, a wet sheen of sweat glimmering in the bare orange light. His mouth is just as wet, parted around his ragged breaths. Each exhale comes out as a whimper, little helpless noises of pain.

“Hood.”

Dick’s eyes roll sightlessly. Jason can see the whites all around them. The words are pressed out between gritted teeth.

“Hurts. Fuck. Fuck. Help. Jay, it hurts.”

It trails off into a high whine. Dick jerks, all of his muscles tightening, knocking his head back against the metal floor of the walkway. It looks a little like he’s having a seizure, his entire body tight and twitching. Jason tightens the fingers around one wrist and tries to cushion his head with his other hand.

“You’re OK, N,” he babbles, feeling useless. Panic draws his stomach tight, a hard, heavy ball in his gut. “You’re gonna be fine. You’re gonna...B will be here. He’ll come. It’s OK.”

It’s all meaningless, but Jason doesn’t know what else to do. They can’t rely on Batman, as much as Jason might want to. Batman’s only human. It’s Jason who needs to get Dick out of here. He needs to get water. Needs medical attention.

His hands flutter over Dick’s legs, his chest, too frightened to land. Dick moans, a low, rattling sound. Jason could get him under his arms, but the last thing he wants to do is drag Dick’s ruined legs across the ground.

“Who’s cheating now?”

The voice is surprisingly close. Jason hadn’t heard Two-Face get up. Had missed the soft thud of his footsteps beneath the sound of Dick’s pain. But the voice comes from right behind them - as if Two-Face is standing over them, and suddenly Jason is painfully aware of the fact that he had slung the gun onto the floor beside him in his haste to get to Dick. That he doesn’t have any of his gear and Dick is incapacitated and not all of Two-Face’s goons are out of commission.

He crouches low, trying to cover as much of his brother as he can. Beneath him, Dick writhes, staring blankly up at the ceiling high above them. Two-Face steps closer. Jason can feel the heat of him against his back. He tenses.

There’s an ear-splitting crash - splintering wood and glass - and a huge, dark shape barrels through the boarded-up window. In that moment, Jason understands exactly why so many people are terrified of the Bat - his almost mythical status. Because now, a shadow against the shattered window, cape spread wide, face grim beneath the cowl, he could be a demon. A nightmare. Despite knowing that Bruce is on his side, for a moment Jason is terrified.

He ducks and Batman flies over his head. There’s a dull thud as he collides with Two-Face, then a garbled cry as the two of them shoot over the edge of the platform. Jason doesn’t turn to watch. Beneath him, Dick’s face has gone slack, his eyes half-lidded and Jason is too preoccupied with fumbling for Dick’s pulse. It’s too fast. Too weak. But it’s there, still, threading beneath his fingers.

“What happened?”

Jason starts at the sound of Batman’s voice. It’s low and strained, even gruffer than normal. Jason recognises it as panic, although not many people would. It touches Jason’s own fear, sharp and bright in his chest.

“Acid,” Jason murmurs. “Two-Face dunked him. I got him out before...but his - his legs…”

A hand lands on Jason’s shoulder, warm and firm and reassuring, and Jason hates how grateful he is for that small touch. Hates how, despite everything, Jason was relying on Bruce showing up.

Batman crouches beside him. There’s a water pouch in one hand, drawn from the recesses of his cloak. His mouth is tight and pinched as he pours most of its contents carefully over Dick’s legs.

Jason can’t help himself. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

Batman ignores him. Reaches up to touch the comm hidden in his cowl before sliding a knife out of his utility belt and slicing it carefully across the ruined fabric covering Dick’s legs. Batman’s gloves are thick black leather. Jason wonders if it’ll be protection enough, or if Bruce just doesn’t care.

“Agent A?”

Jason can’t hear Alfred’s reply without his own comm but it must be immediate, because Bruce launches right into the situation with barely enough time to draw breath.

“Nightwing is injured. At least second degree acid burns, possibly third degree. Basic triage applied.”

The knife slices through fabric like butter. The dark exoskeleton of Dick’s suit peels away beneath his hands. The flesh underneath is raw and wet - an awful, gory mess. Jason has to stare hard at Batman’s hands to keep from gagging.

“We’re heading back to the manor, but we’ll need an ambulance to meet us there. I think this is beyond our capabilities.”

Can Alfred hear the muted terror in Bruce’s voice? The little tremble? The low rasp at the back of his throat? Probably better than Jason can, but Jason hears it well enough to have his skin prickling, to have his heart rocketing against his chest.

Most of Dick’s suit, from the top of his thighs to his ankles, is stripped now, lying in tattered, half-melted shreds around him. Some of Dick’s flesh had gone with it, adhered to the fabric in a way that has bile surging up the back of Jason’s throat. Dick is still unconscious, thank God, face loose, chest rising with too-shallow breaths.

“Help me with him,” Batman murmurs as he rinses his gloves with the last of the water. Then he unclips his cloak, tucking it carefully around the open wound that is Dick’s legs.

Jason moves dumbly as Batman orders him. Hooks his arms under his brother’s armpits. Batman cradles Dick’s legs as carefully as he can, fumbling to find a spot that isn’t as badly damaged. Still, when they lift Dick into the air it must hurt, because he jerks back into consciousness as if electrocuted, eyes white and wide and rolling in his head. Jason tightens his grip to stop Dick writhing right out of his arms and Dick lets out a punched-out little noise of pain.

“Calm down, Nightwing,” Bruce orders, voice a low growl, and Dick goes still and quiet with a strangled whimper, as if he can’t help himself obeying.

“B? Hurts. My - my legs -“

“You’re OK,” Batman reassures - or maybe that’s an order too. Maybe if Batman says it sternly enough, Dick will be forced to make it true.

“Told you B would get here,” Jason murmurs. His own pathetic reassurance.

Batman’s head jerks up. Through the flat white lenses of his cowl, it’s difficult to read his expression, but Jason thinks that’s something like grief in the tight lines around his mouth. Something like guilt in the way he ducks his head.

“I’m here,” Batman agrees, although it’s clear that Dick isn’t listening. “Hold on Nightwing, we’re getting you home.”

[poeticandvaguelysweet]

it comes and goes in waves (and carries us away) –– #4 wasn’t meant to be

sapphicsrlit: so what if donna had a miscarriage after the other time and never told harvey about it and he only finds out by accident [...] and he just feels betrayed that donna never told him that she was pregnant in the first place. 

I'm a slut for this shit, so you can bet I was all over it.

Set around 8.07. This takes place around 8.07, I wanted something that would feel genuine/could potentially happen on the show. This is what happened. Enjoy!

AO3 - FF.net

WASN’T MEANT TO BE

Louis had sought her out quietly towards the end of the day when the firm had started to empty. Associates were heading out to bed and bars, satisfied with another job well done while some others lingered, paperwork unfinished, reports still left to read. It was quiet, the usual daytime buzz turned down to easy static, the hallways bare bar a delivery man or two bringing dinner to those who thought they could make it through the night.

He looked as lost as she felt, standing in front of her desk, sharing something deeply personal. Louis wasn’t one for boundaries, he crossed lines left, right and centre concerning matters no one in the workplace needed to be privy to. This time he was quiet, the door closed, sitting in a chair opposite her desk. He had been so happy two days ago and now he looked down, despondent and forlorn. She had hugged him when he was finished, teary-eyed and a little lost, neither of them knowing exactly what to say. 

‘It’ll work out.’ Donna managed to find her voice, words slipping out with the intention to comfort. Louis twitched a smile, small but present. He wanted this so bad and Donna could understand the empty feeling he felt knowing right now wasn’t his time.

He left her office looking a little more whole, happy to get his story off his chest as he bid her goodnight and she wished him luck. She was left standing, with shaking hands and a hole shot right through her chest. His words resurged a thought, that in the last decade, left her well enough alone. It crept right back in, alongside Louis’ story as her chest ached and her stomach clenched in sympathy for her friend. Her legs were unsteady beneath her, not promising to keep her upright as she pushed forward, out of her office and into Harvey’s.

‘You free for a drink?’ Donna asked, not sure if she wanted one herself or if it was just the company. Working at his desk, Harvey looked up. He was used to her walking in and out whenever she pleased, making comments, questions and demands regardless of the fact that she was COO now. She knew that he would hear the difference in her voice, the tired exhaustion that had climbed inside of her and settle with heavy pressure against her shoulders. He could read her just as easily as she read him, the only difference was that Harvey didn’t always voice what he saw.

He watched her settle herself into the corner of his office sofa, heavy sigh falling from her lips. Wordlessly, Harvey stood, abandoning his work for the decanter of scotch and two glasses now that Donna was waiting for him. ‘What’s going on?’ He eyed her suspiciously, watching as she tried to pull herself together with fingers on her temples, rubbing away the ache that lay there. He approached, slowly, with calculated risk as his arm extended the amber filled tumbler towards her.

She didn’t want to talk about that; Louis, Sheila, a false positive. She just wanted some respite, a moment of peace in a space she felt comfortable. Things had been strained between them over the last few months; her resignation, promotion, Mike and Rachel leaving, Paula. It hadn’t been easy and yet, now that the waters had calmed to a soft lull of moving water, barely forming peaks with the current, she felt safe here once again. She just wanted to sit, to bask in the company of someone else as Harvey took her mind off thoughts that hadn’t touched her this vividly for years.

He sat in the armchair beside the sofa, the seat he usually occupied which allowed for space to exist between them. They couldn’t accidentally sit to close, thighs touching, hands flying out to grasp the other for their physical attention mid-conversation. Here, there was distance, a physical barrier in the arm of the chair. She could slide past him, getting up to fetch another drink from the decanter he left beside his desk, her thighs gracing his knees, bodies too close. Harvey wouldn’t wish for it, it felt like tempting fate on something he wasn’t ready to take action on.

‘I spoke to Mike today.’ He offered; glass poised at his lips.

Donna smiled, her face lifting, eyes sparkling as a smile stretched across her cheeks. She watched him, trying to read his thoughts before he spoke, anticipating the next move. ‘How are they doing?’ She had heard from Rachel too, a constant stream of texts and hour-long phone calls since the day they left. But Harvey was different, he didn’t always reach out to those he was missing. Instead, he sat on the defence, scorned and abandoned. She knew Mike was giving him time to come to terms with things before he called to check in.

‘Good.’ He nodded, swallowing amber liquid. ‘It hasn’t stopped raining since they arrived.’ Donna chuckled, Rachel had told her the same thing, bemoaning the weather they knew to anticipate but had not entirely been expecting. ‘They sound happy.’ He forced a smile, downing another mouthful as he watched her. ‘He’s already trying to rope me into going out there.’ Harvey told her with a scoff, half rolling his eyes as Donna raised a brow.

‘Hey, who knows, Seattle could be perfect for you.’ She teased, knowing how badly he missed his friend and how quietly betrayed Harvey was feeling in Mike’s departure. Harvey quirked his brow, scepticism dancing off his features as he watched her smile. ‘What? You don’t think Zane Specter Litt need a West Coast office?’

‘We have a perfectly good office here in the only city that matters.’ The rumble of his laugh was a relief to hear, homely and warm as it seemed to reach out and rush over her. ‘What was going on with Louis today?’ He doused her with cold water in an instant; caught her, just like that. She wasn’t going to tell him, didn’t want to tell him and then the words were right there––like they were talking about Mike and Rachel in Seattle––slipping out of her mouth without a thought.

‘He’s a little rattled. Sheila thought she was pregnant, turns out it was a false positive.’ Her eyes slid away from his, watching the floor at the foot of his desk, not willing herself to look up.

Harvey’s armchair creaked. ‘I thought he wanted kids.’

‘He does.’ She answered around a lump in her throat. ‘It’s easy to get your hopes up in a moment like that.’ She answered, feeling her mind pull in as she teetered on the edge of a conversation she didn’t want to have. ‘It’s just, when you get that positive, so many things go through your head. Shock, fear … joy. Suddenly, everything’s possible. Mentally you’re living days, weeks, months into the future and then suddenly you’re back in the present. No baby. It’s gut-wrenching.’ Donna chanced a look, her eyes meeting Harvey’s concerned gaze, the man poised on the edge of his chair, his glass of scotch hanging between his knees. ‘It’s just an idea in the beginning and it changes everything.’

A beat passed, a second, a third as Donna swallowed hard, her gut churning and her mind unable to focus. ‘Why does it sound like you are talking from experience?’

It would take nothing more than the twitch of her tongue to tell him something different, to say she witnessed a friend go through it, to lie. ‘It was years ago,’ the words found her. ‘I miscarried at eight weeks.’ She tried to give him a little shrug, to play it off in and out of her head, like it hadn’t crawled out of the recesses of her mind to remind her of every painful moment. She loved Louis, she did, and now more than ever she felt his pain.  

‘When?’ She could hear his voice wet with pity, apology, sympathy, fear and a flurry of other emotions, all fluttering around a two-syllable word and a question that seemed to permeate the air around them. Her stomach clenched, churned around a memory. Something’s wrong, her voice from years ago muttering to herself, swimming around in her head.

Donna closed her eyes; she didn’t want to get into this with him. ‘I don’t remember, Harvey,’ she half whined his name. ‘I barely even think about it.’ At least that was the truth, it had pushed itself so far out of her mind it barely crossed her conscience. She didn’t think about how––if it hadn’t slipped away––they would be nearing twelve-years-old. Donna didn’t torture herself with the details, little boy with a cocky smirk or a girl with fast wit. Except that she did. It crossed her mind once or twice a year, anniversary dates that seemed to pop up in her mind like clockwork that allowed her time to mentally prepare.

‘When?’ He asked again, a little more forceful and Donna could hear everything he wasn’t going to say, everything he would barely let himself think. Internally, he was begging for multiple different outcomes, unsure of what he wanted. Mark. Mitchell. Stephen. Every outcome twisted up inside of him. She could see, in the tension radiating off of him, in his desire to put further distance between them that he already knew what the answer was. 

‘Thirteen years ago. When we––‘

Harvey stood from his seat, practically throwing himself out of the chair as it wobbled in his absence. He was silent, stoic as he moved for the window.

She watched him, able to do so now that he wasn’t looking at her. Harvey’s jaw was tense, held tight as he ground down on his teeth, fingers clutching his glass desperately. She never allowed herself to think of this. Telling him. When the thought entered her mind, her future and what it could have been, it only ever contained her baby. Harvey stayed out of it; she wouldn’t allow herself anything more.

‘Why,’ he stopped to clear his throat. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ His eyes shot daggers, dark and empty as he turned to her in the quiet light of his office, his presence loud and large, chaotic energy he couldn’t usually control. He wasn’t angry at her, she knew that, could see it in the pain that shimmered in his brown eyes.   

Donna looked away, teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she watched her fingers play nervously with her glass. ‘My rule.’ Her voice was quiet, void of strength in a move that was entirely un-Donna, Harvey didn’t know how to retort. ‘It was messy, Harvey.’ She found a little courage on a stuttered breath. ‘It was only going to make things messy.’ Eyes met his, brown bleeding into brown, trying to convey a decade and a half of history. ‘I was going to tell you, had planned to tell you … and then I lost it.’ Her voice wobbled, office dim enough to remind her of her moonlit apartment that night. The silver light was cool on her bedsheets as she reached across to turn the covers down, a pang in her belly growing tighter, persistent, uncomfortable until she was hunched over the mattress wondering who she was supposed to call. She had, sadly enough, considered calling Harvey before she dialled the number of a nearby friend. ‘There wasn’t any use afterwards. It wouldn’t have done either of us any good.’ 

‘But, I––‘ He stopped, faltered, came up short. Harvey was angry, she could see it in the twitch up his arm and the flex of his jaw. It was self-directed anger, the kind that usually bubbled up inside of him until it boiled over.

If he knew, if she had told him all those years ago, they only would have looked at each other and wondered about a possible future they were never going to have. He would throw a Specter smile in her direction and she would wonder if their daughter would be capable of that wattage if she would be on the debate team or in the drama club, whether she would play baseball and surpass her father’s batting average or if she would keep out of sport altogether.

‘––Would have wanted to do the right thing.’ She finished for him, watching as he stepped across the room to face the city skyline. ‘There was no right thing, Harvey. I lost it. End of story. I know what you’re thinking, but the man you were twelve years ago, does not match the man you are now. You wouldn’t have been ready for it.’ He never would have asked her to do anything, the choice would have been hers and he would have supported it. It was just, Harvey––at the time––wasn’t ready for the slightest of commitments let alone a baby. He just wanted Donna on his desk to help him be a better man. He needed it to be uncomplicated. ‘Everything worked out exactly how it should have.’

Donna joined him, glass of scotch left on the coffee table, her hand an inch away from his as they stood side by side at the window. She listened to him breathe, watched his reflection try to unclench his jaw as he stared off at the city for moments more. ‘For what it’s worth, I am sorry I didn’t tell you.’ Her pinkie bumped his palm, eyes meeting in the reflection on the glass. This pensive Harvey bothered her, the one who beat himself up inside and never let anyone in to repair the damage. This wasn’t his fault. There was nothing there to be dwelled on. But, if he wanted to mourn, to wonder what if, she was there, she was ready to share with him in any capacity he wanted. They had been through enough now and he had changed, for the better.

His hand engulfed hers thick fingers wrapping themselves around her smaller palm, holding for dear life. ‘I’m sorry’ that you had to go through it alone, that you couldn’t come to me, that I wasn’t ready. It wasn’t his burden to bear, to feel guilty. She had carried it for thirteen years, unbothered, her secret. They weren’t ready. She would have liked it, just as she would have wanted more from him back then. It just wasn’t meant to be, and Donna had long since come to peace with that.

She never wanted to push Harvey into something he wasn’t ready for. They stood there, his hand holding onto hers as she waited for his fight or flight response to kick in.

[krat395]

Bravery, Justice, and Laughter

Happy belated Easter, everyone! :D And as my Easter gift, I proudly present to you a story featuring my depictions of the two humans that represent the BRAVERY and JUSTICE souls! Yes, after all this time, there is finally a story featuring one or more of those six human characters from Undertale whose appearances are left up to interpretation! So; enjoy, everyone! Enjoy a story that for once doesn’t feature Frisk, Chara, Asriel, or MK as the main characters! Or Toriel, Asgore, Sans, Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, Blooky, Mettaton, Muffet, or Gaster for that matter!

Undertale(c) Toby Fox.

BRAVERY, JUSTICE, AND LAUGHTER

 A month has passed since the magical Barrier was destroyed; the barrier that kept all of the monsters trapped in the Underground for so long without any hope of ever reaching the Surface. And by some miracle, Asriel Dreemurr, the prince of all monsters that died a long time ago and got resurrected as a soulless flower, was given a chance to be himself again; in his original form with all of his emotions and feelings; and is now living happily on the Surface with all of his friends and family. And not only that, several individuals that passed away during their adventures in the Underground were resurrected and given chances to be happy along with Asriel. And two of those individuals consisted of two young boys named Bradley and Justin. Bradley aka Brad is a young African American boy with a soul that represents Bravery and Justin is a young Caucasian boy with a soul that represents Justice and once the two boys themselves were brought back to life, they were both immediately taken in by a woman named Harriet, who cared for Brad for three whole months after he was separated from Justin and Isabella aka Izzy (Justin’s cousin and a young Caucasian girl with a soul that represents Integrity who was resurrected along with Brad and Justin and others). Harriet and her family cared for Brad until they could no longer protect him from a threat that cost him his life and after a tearful reunion with Harriet and her family, Brad has been spending his days living on the Surface with them in their new home; in a similar fashion to how he did so during the good old days before his death. Only this time, his best friend, Justin, is part of his family as one of his adopted brothers; and so is Izzy, who was taken in as a new family member by Harriet’s sister, Heidi, the same day Harriet reunited with Brad and took Justin in as a new family member. Justin and Izzy have been friends of Brad’s before all three of them could even walk and since the three kids were all orphans prior to their adventures in the Underground, it makes sense that those who cared for Brad would want to adopt Justin and Izzy as well. Especially after hearing so many good things about them from Brad during the first three months he lived with them!

 It is a Friday night at Brad and Justin’s house; early November; and soon-to-be 11-year-olds, Brad and Justin, are currently in their rooms relaxing and playing video games together in two bean bag chairs after eating a delicious supper with their adopted mother, Harriet, and siblings, Benny, Robbie, and Heather; and on this particular night, Brad is feeling rather playful, wanting to do something rather amusing with his best friend and new brother, Justin, after the two of them are done gaming… or while they’re gaming; something they haven’t done together in a long time.

��Brad: Hey, Justin, I gotta ask you something; after one month, how do you feel about Harriet, Benny, Robbie, and Heather? Do you still like them? *asked Brad curiously while playing video games with Justin*

 Justin: Oh, Brad; you’re darn tootin’, ah do! Hehe! *replied Brad’s blonde-haired best friend and newest brother in a Southern accent with great enthusiasm* Ah love em’ all so much! Bettermost fuh-amily Izzy and ah have ever had after thuh deaths of our original folks. Speakin’ of Izzy, it was mighty fahn of Aunt Heidi and Uncle Harvey to adopt her. That way, she and ah ahr able t’ be thuh cousins we usta be!

 Justin is HUGE fan of westerns and cowboys and due to his love of westerns and cowboys; the long-haired boy himself has adopted a rather amusing southern accent and often dresses up like he’s a cowboy himself; donning a short-sleeved yellow and gray plaid cowboy shirt, a brown vest, a red bandana around his neck, a brown cowboy hat, blue jeans, a belt with a yellow heart buckle, and brown cowboy boots. But as of right now though, he has tossed his hat, bandana, vest, and boots aside and is only wearing his short-sleeved shirt, belt, and jeans with his feet encased in gray socks. And as for Brad, he is currently wearing his usual attire minus his all-black sneakers; an orange t-shirt with three dark orange horizontal stripes, a brown jacket with a single orange stripe, a pair of black jeans, and black socks.

Brad: Hehe. I’m so glad to hear that, man! Really, I am! And expect many more great months with them too; only this time, without the fear of ever having to leave them or being taken away from them!

 Justin: Oh, ah will! Don’t ya worry bout that, pahrtner!

 Brad: Hehe. Perfect. *said Brad while munching on a carrot stick*

 Justin: Heh; another carrot stick, Brad?! You’re not full after all that chow an cinnamon buns?!

 Brad: Pfft. Oh come on, man! They’re really good! And they’re good for you too! If you’re gonna be a part of this family, you better get used to eating carrots!

 Justin: That may tayk taahm. *stated Justin, reminiscing all of the carrots he’s eaten during his first month with his new family*

 Brad: Hehe. Well, time is certainly the one thing you’ve got these days. Especially after being brought back to life and all!

 Justin: Hahaha! You’re darn tootin! Ah hope thin’s stay jus’ like this for a mighty long taahm!

 Brad: Hehe. Me too, man; me too. *said Brad sincerely with a smile*

 About 30 minutes later, Brad and Justin reached a stopping point in their game; and immediately after saving their progress, Brad abruptly turned off the game, leaving Justin in a state of both confusion and disappointment.

 Justin: Woah there, pahrtner! Why’d ya shut off that there game?! *asked Justin disappointedly, who wanted to play a little while longer* Ahr ya upset that I was whoopin’ ya fuhr once? *he then asked curious, under that impression that Brad is being a sore loser*

 Brad: Pfft. Me?! Upset about losing a game to you?! Hahaha! No; of course not!

 Justin: Then why’d ya shut off that there game then?

 Brad: Hehehehehe. Because, dude, I know something we can do that might be even more fun. *replied Brad cheekily, moments before crawling slowly and creepily towards Justin*

 Justin: Oh yeah? And jus’ what would that be, you buzz-killin’ whippersnapper?

 Brad: Oh, nothing special, dude. Just nothing other than a little… TICKLE FIGHT! *exclaimed Brad as he latched on to Justin’s sides and wiggled his fingers up and down every single inch of them, eliciting numerous squeaks and frantic laughter from the young boy in response as well as making the young boy’s amusing Southern accent temporarily vanish* Hahahahaha! Coochie coochie coo, dude! Hahahahaha!

 Justin: PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF… HAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAHA!!!! BRAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAD, *SQUEAK* *SQUEAK* HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! *SQUEAK* BRAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAD, WHAHAHAHAHAT IN TARNAHAHAHAHAHAHAHATION?!!!! *asked Justin through his laughter in a non-Southern accent, squirming and thrashing in his bean bag chair with every passing second* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! *SQUEAK* AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAAHA!!!! OHOHOHOHOHOHOH MY GOD, STOHOHOHOHOHOOHOP!!!! *SQUEAK* *SQUEAK* HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

 Ever since their resurrections, Brad, who had countless tickle fights with Justin in the past, has been dying to tickle Justin again. But he didn’t do it until now because he wanted to allow Justin enough to adjust to his new family and home first; and now that Justin appears to have done so, Brad felt that it was the perfect time to tickle his best friend and new brother and let him know that he wants to have tickle fights just like they used to when they were younger. Brad absolutely loves tickling and by extension, play fighting. And more often than not, he would be the one to start such fights with his friends as well as his siblings.

 Brad: Hahahaha! No, I will not stop, dude! Not unless you make me stop!

 Justin: HAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! MAHAHAHAHAHAAYBE I CAN, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHA, IF YOU TAKE OFF YOHOHOHOHOHOHOUR JAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAACKET!!!! *SQUEAK* HOHOHOHOHOHOHHOHOHOHOHOHOAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!!!! WHY ARE YOU WEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEARING IT ANYWAY?!!!! *SQUEAK* *SQUEAK* HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE HIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE~!!!!

 Brad: I think it looks cool! *Brad casually answered, moments before he began unbuttoning Justin’s shirt and tickling his ribs at the same time* Plus, it’ll help protect my torso from your fingers and long hair, I think!

 Oh my god, what a cheater! Brad purposely left his jacket on to give himself a huge advantage in this tickle fight; if you can even call it that; because if Justin doesn’t retaliate anytime soon, then what’s the point?  

 Justin: *SQUEAK* BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! *Justin laughed even harder as Brad poked and prodded his ribs as well as the spaces in between his ribs* OHOHOHOHOHOH GOOD LOHOHOHOHHOHORD, NOT THERHEHEHEHHEERE!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA!!!! *SQUEAK* NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEHERE, PAHAHAHAHAHARTNER!!!! *SQUEAK* FWWWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE~!!!!

 Brad: Hehehehehehehe! *Brad just chuckled in response, relishing in the sweet sound of his blonde-haired brother’s adorable laughter as he continued tickling each one of his ribs*

 After about 90 seconds of rib tickling, Brad began wiggling his fingers all over Justin’s now exposed bare stomach, causing even more laughter to spill from the young boy’s mouth in response. Justin is pretty ticklish on his torso and while his stomach may not be ticklish as his ribs and sides are, it’s still ticklish enough to get him laughing hard. Hard enough to elicit several squeaks, at least!

 Justin: AAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! BRAHAHAHAHAHAAAHAHAD, COME ON!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHA!!!! COME ON, YOU VAHAHAHAHAAHAHARMINT, HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, ENOUGH OF THIS TOMFOOHOOHOOHOOHOOLERY ALREHEHEHEHEHEHEHEEADY!!!! *SQUEAK* *SQUEAK* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA~!!!!

 Brad: Heh. Who are you and what have you done with Justin?! The Justin I know would’ve tried to tickle me back by now! What’s your deal, man? *asked Brad in disbelief, right as he began blowing numerous raspberries on Justin’s belly and over his naval*

 Justin: PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF… HAHAHHAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! NOTHING, PAHAHAHAHAHAHAHARTNER!!!! HAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! JUST, AHAHHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA, JUST, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, JUST WAITING, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHHAA, JUST WAITING FOHOHOHOR THE RIGHT MOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOMENT TO STRIHIHIHIKE!!!! *answered Justin through his laughter, mere seconds before scribbling all 10 of his fingers all over Brad’s neck to get him to stop tickling him for the time being* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAhahahahahahahahahahahhaha~!!!! *he laughed some more until stopping entirely*

 Brad: PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF… HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA, OH CRAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAP!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHA!!! OH CRAP, OH CRAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAP, NOT MY NEHEHEHEHEHEHECK!!! *SNORT* HOHOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAHAHHAHAHHA~!!!

 As Brad continued laughing due to neck tickles, Justin was provided an opportunity to swiftly push him back into the bean bag chair to the right of him to tickle him some more. Then, while continuing to tickle Brad’s neck with his left hand, Justin swiftly used his right hand to unzip Brad’s jacket to dish out some serious tickling to the front side of his torso in about a minute or so; right after tickling Brad’s neck some more with both of his hands.

 Brad: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA!!! JUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUUSTIN!!! HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!!! JUSTIN, LEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEAVE MY NEHEHEHEHECK ALONE!!! *pleaded Brad through his laughter, not appearing enjoy the current tickle torture to his neck* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! COME ON, I’M BEHEHEHEHEEHEGGING YOU, MAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAN!!! *SNORT* HAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA~!!!

 One minute later, Justin did as Brad asked and stopped tickling his neck, much to Brad’s relief. But shortly afterwards however, he lifted up Brad’s t-shirt and began tickling his belly hard with all 10 of his fingers, sending the young African American boy into pure hysterics in response.

 Brad: HAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! DUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUDE, STOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOP!!! *pleaded Brad through his laughter once more, this time not appearing not to enjoy the tickle torture to his stomach* HAHAHAHAAHHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, NOT SO HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHARD, DUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUDE; THAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAT TICKLES!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA~!!!

 Justin: Really? *asked Justin sarcastically with a giant grin on his face* Well, shucks, ah hadn’t noticed! *he then said sarcastically, before twirling a strand of his long blonde hair inside Brad’s bellybutton to REALLY get Brad laughing hard*

 The moment Justin twirled some of his hair inside Brad’s bellybutton, Brad’s eyes shot open as wide as they possibly could; and then not too long afterwards, some of the most maniacal laughter just poured from his mouth. Why, the poor boy laughed so much that tears began forming in his eyes!

 Brad: PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF… AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA!!!! OHOHOHOHOHOHOHOH MY GOHOHOHOHOHOOHOD, NOHOHOHOHOT… AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHHHAHAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA~!!!!

 Justin: Hahahahahaha! Man, oh man, ah love havin; long hair! Hahahahahahaha!

 Brad: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHHAAHAHA!!!! GET IT OUT, DUHUHUHUHUHUHUDE!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! GET IT OUT BEFORE I… EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!!!! …SQEEEEEEEEEEEHEEHEEHEEAL!!!! HAAHHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!!!! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEEEHEEHEEHEEHEE HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE~!!!!

 Justin: Hahahahahahahaahaha! *Justin just laughed in response, relishing in the sweet sounds of Brad’s laughter and squealing with every passing second*

 After about 2 minutes or so, Justin stopped tickling Brad with his hair and then went back to tickling him with his fingers; this time, on his armpits on the outside of his shirt; to give him somewhat of a breather.

 Brad: Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!! Oh, thank god!!!!! *stated Brad through laughter and some occasional giggles, relieved that Justin was no longer tickling him with his hair* Heeheeheeheeheeheeeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeeheeheeheehee~!!!!!

 Justin: Hahahaha! Ya beder hold on ta that there thought, partner; cuz in about a minute or so, imma reckon you’re gonna go jus as wild and loco as before!

 After one whole minute of armpit tickling, Justin then moved his fingers down to Brad’s sides and began scribbling his 10 fingers up and down every inch of them. And just as predicted, Brad began laughing frantically once again; though not as frantically as he did when Justin tickled him with his hair not too long ago.

 Brad: PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF… HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!!!! OH CRAHAHAHHAHHAAP, NOT MY SIDES!!!! *pleaded Brad through his laughter, squirming frantically in his bean bag chair once again with every passing second* HAHAHAHHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! THEY’RE EVEN MOHOHOOHOHOHORE TICKLISH THAN MY BEHEHEHEHEHEHEHELLY!!!! HAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA~!!!!

 Justin: Hahaha! Of course, they ahr! Hahahahaha! And do ya know what’s even more ticklish than your sides? *asked Justin rhetorically* …YOUR RIBS! *he then exclaimed as he began poking and prodding Brad’s ribs as well as the spaces in between his ribs; in a similar fashion to how Brad tickled his own ribs earlier*

 Brad: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! CRAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!!! HAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAAHHA!!!! CRAP, CRAP, CRAHAHAHAHHAHAAP, CRAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAP, CRAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!!! *SNORT* *SNORT* *SNORT* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHA!!!! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA~!!!!

 Justin: Hahahahahahaha! And do ya know what’s more ticklish than your ribs? *asked Justin rhetorically once again* …YOUR BACK!! *he then exclaimed, swiftly removing Brad’s jacket and tossing it aside a few seconds later.

 But then, just before Justin could once again tickle Brad, Brad swiftly pinned Justin onto his stomach and tickled his back instead, eliciting frantic squeaks and adorable laughter from the young blonde-haired boy once again in the process.

 Justin: PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF… YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! *Justin laughed hard as Brad ticked every inch of his back with his ten fingers, primarily focusing on the spinal region* EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!!! *SQUEAK* *SQUEAK* NO, HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE, NOT THE TICKLE SPOT!!! *he pleaded through his laughter, kicking both of his legs frantically upon feeling brad glide his right index finger slowly and steadily down his spinal region* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOT THE TICKLE SPOT!!! *SQUEAK* *SQUEAK* EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEHEEHEE~!!! *he laughed more as tears began forming in his eyes*

 Brad: Hehehehe. I got you now, cowboy! Hehehehehe~

 Justin: HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA!!! *SQUEAK* HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEHEEHEHEEHEEHEHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHI HOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA~!!!

 3 minutes later…

 Justin: HAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!! BRAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAADLEY, HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, YOU BETTER STOP THAT, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, OR ELSE, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA OR ELSE, I’M GONNA… HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHA~!!!

 Brad: What? Or else you’re gonna what, Justin? *asked Brad with a mischievous smile while inadvertently moving his right hand into grabbing range of Justin’s own right hand as he continued ticking him*

 Justin: HAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! OHOHOHOHOHOR ELSE, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, I’M GONNA… HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, TICKLE YOUR, HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA, PALM!!! *exclaimed Justin ferociously through his laughter, hurriedly grabbing his friend and brother’s right hand by his fingers with his own right hand and then tickling his palm with his left hand fingers shortly afterwards* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAhahahahahahahaahahahaha~ *he laughed some more until stopping entirely while tickling Brad’s right palm*

 Brad: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHHHAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA!!!!!!!! *Brad laughed ferociously as Justin wiggled his left hand fingers ever so slightly all over his extremely sensitive right palm* OH CRAHAHAHAHAHAHAP, I KNEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEW I SHOHOHOHOHOULD’VE WOHOHOHOHOHOHORN MY TOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOUGH GLOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOVES!!!!!!!! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHA~!!!!!!!!

 Brad’s most ticklish spots are his palms and as Justin tickled one of them; he managed to give himself an opportunity to push Brad off of him and then swiftly pin him on his stomach against the floor, gaining the upper hand once again in the process. Then, as Justin positioned himself directly on top of Brad, he then had a decision to make; 1. He could continue torturing one of Brad’s palms or 2. He could tickle Brad’s second and third most ticklish spots. Decisions, decisions; but seeing as how he’s pinned Brad on his stomach, he may as well choose the latter. And after five seconds of thinking, that’s exactly what he did too. Very swiftly, he scooted on down towards Brad’s legs, pulled off both of his black socks, and then proceeded to tickle the soles of his feet; skittering his fingers all of every ticklish inch of them.

 Justin: Hahahahaha! Kitchie kitchie kitchie kitchie koo, pahrtner! Yippee, yippee, yeeeeeeee- haw! Hahahahahaha!

 Brad: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!! *Brad screamed and laughed frantically as Justin scribbled his fingers HARD all over every inch of his bare soles, trying hard to kick his legs but to no avail; especially during moments when Justin scratched his heels, the most sensitive areas of his feet* JUSTIN, NOT MY FEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEET!!!!!! *he pleaded through his laughter, wiggling his ten toes like crazy with every passing second* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOT MY FEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEET!!!!!! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE HOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOOHOHOHOHOHOHO HAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAHA!!!!!! *SNORT* *SNORT* *SNORT* EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHA AHAHHAHAHAHAAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHA~!!!!!!

 Justin: Yippee, yippee, yee-haw! *shouted Justin once again as he proceeded to tickle Brad’s toes in addition to his soles*

 Brad: BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! *SNORT* OHOHOHOHOHOH CRAP, NOHOHOHOHOHOT MY TOHOHOHHOOES TOO!!!!!!! *SNORT* *SNORT* EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEHEE HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEEHEEHEEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA~!!!!!!!

 After two minutes of feet tickling, Justin took the tickle torture a step further; by turning around and tickling Brad’s back, his second-most ticklish spot! Every inch of Brad’s back is considered very ticklish but there are two spots on his back that are slightly more sensitive than others; and those two areas happen to be his shoulder blades. So, for the next while, Justin focused on those two particular spots with every single one of his fingers.

 Justin: Hahaha! Nothin’ like a good ol’ back tickle to really get you buckin’! Hahahaha! Giddy up, horsey! Giddy on up now! Giddy up, giddy up! *teased Justin as he dug all 10 of his fingers into both of Brad’s shoulder blades* Hahahahaha!

 Brad: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! *Brad screamed with hysterical laughter, writhing and thrashing in Justin’s clutches with every passing second as Justin tickled his sensitive shoulder blades* NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! JUHUHUHUHUHUHUUHUHUHUHUHUSTIN, DOHOHOHOHOHOHON’T TICKLE ME THEHEHEHHEHEHERE!!!!!!!! *pleaded Brad through his laughter, failing to maintain his composure as his tickle torture continued* HAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! *SNORT* *SNORT* *SNORT* DOHOHOHOHHHHOHON’T TICKLE ME THEHEHEHEHHERE, JUHUHUHUHUHUHUSTIN!!!!!!! *SNORT* EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE HAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHA!!!!!!! OHOHHOHOHOH CRAP!!!!!!! *SNORT* *SNORT* *SNORT* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA~!!!!!!!

 Justin: Woah there, horsey! Easy there, horsey! *teased Justin* Hehehehehehe.

 Brad: HAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! DUHUHUHUHUHUDE, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, I’M NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOT A HOHOHOHOHOHOHORSE!!!!!!! *SNORT* *SNORT* WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA~!!!!!!!

 Justin: No? Then why do ya sound like one then? *asked Justin, stopping briefly to pull off both of his gray socks* Hehehehehehe. *he chuckled while wiggling his toes* Now; dun, duh duh dun, duh duh dun, duh duh dun! *he sang as he began tickling Brad’s lower back with his fingers with his fingers and his neck with his toes* Hahahahahaha! Neigh for me, horsey! Dun, duh duh dun, duh duh dun, duh duh dun! Hahahahahaha!

 Brad: WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESNAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAW!!!!!!! BWAHAAHHAHAHHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! *Brad laughed so hard he started crying, Justin’s fingers and toes wiggling against his lower back and neck respectively with every passing second* HOHOHOHOHOOHOHOHOHOHOHOLY CRAP, NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOOHOHOHO!!!!!!! *SNORT* *SNORT* HOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHI HAHAHHAAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! I CAN’T TAKE IT!!!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! I CAHAHAHAHAHAHAN’T… AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA~!!!!!!!

 For three whole minutes, Brad was at Justin’s mercy. His back and neck are very ticklish and as Justin’s wiggled his fingers and toes all over them, Brad just couldn’t help but laugh… and squirm… and thrash… and squeal in Justin’s clutches. It all appeared to be too much for the young African American boy to handle. But after the three minutes were up however, Brad worked up enough energy to put an end to Justin’s ticklish assault. After three minutes, Brad, while still lying face down on the floor, grabbed both of Justin’s ankles with his hands, startling Justin in the process as he tickled Brads neck with his toes. Then shortly afterwards, he began tickling the tops of Justin’s bare feet, which are surprising more ticklish than his soles! Albeit only slightly more ticklish, but still!

 Justin: PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF… EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEHEHEE!!!!! *SQUEAK* HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA!!!!! *Justin laughed and squealed hilariously, rolling off of Brad’s body as much as he could as Brad continued tickling the tops of his feet* HEY, WOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOAH, HAHAHAHHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHA, WHAT ARE YOU DOOHOOHOOHOOHOOING?!!!!! *he asked in disbelief through his laughter and squealing*, trying to resume his ticklish assault on Brad, but to no avail* WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEHEEHEEHEE!!!!! DOHOHOHOHOHOHHOHON’T TOUCH MY FEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEET!!!!! *SQUEAK* HAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! DON’T TOUCH MY FEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEET, YOU PIG!!!!! *SQUEAK* *SQUEAK* YOOHOOOHOOHOOHOOHOOHOHOHOHOOHHOOHOOHOOHOOHOOHOOHOOHOO HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA~!!!!!

 Brad: Ha! Pig?! No, no, no! I’m not a pig! *said Brad confidently as he hurriedly pinned Justin against the floor on his stomach* You’re a pig! *he shouted as he positioned himself directly on top of Justin’s legs* And I’m about to make you squeal like one! In… 10… 9! *he shouted once more, beginning a ticklish assault on Justin’s bare soles without even finishing his countdown* Hahahahahahaha! Coochie coochie coo, widdwe piggy* Hahahahahahaha!

 Justin: WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!! *Justin squealed the moment the felt Brad’s 10 fingers scribble all over his soles, which are only slightly less sensitive than the tops of his feet* GWAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA!!!!! *he laughed hysterically, writhing and thrashing in Brad’s clutches with every passing second of continuous tickle torture to his bare feet* BRAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHAHAAD, *SQUEAK* HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA, PARTNER, NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOT THE FEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHET!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHHAHA!!!!! OHOHOHOHOOHOH TUHUHUHUHUHURKEY BUZZARD, NOHOHOHOHOHOHOOT THE FEEHEEHEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEET!!!!! *SQUEAK* THAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAT REALLY TIHIHHIHIHIHIHICKLES!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHA!!!!! IT TIHIHIHIHIHIHICKLES LIKE HEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHELL!!!!! *SQUEAK* *SQUEAK* WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIH HOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA~!!!!! *he laughed even more, wiggling his toes like crazy in addition to his constant writhing and thrashing*

 Brad: Hahahahahahahahahahahaha! Good! Hahahahahaha! Now keep squealing for me, widdwe piggy! *exclaimed Brad as he began ticking Justin’s toes in addition to his soles* Hahahahahahahahaha!

 Justin: WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!!!!! *Justin laughed and squealed some more, trying to kick his legs but to no avail as Brad mercilessly tickle tortures his vulnerable soles and toes* HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE HIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOOHO HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA~!!!!!

 After two minutes of feet tickling, Brad spun around and scooted up towards Justin’s torso, giving Justin a small breather in the process. But then, just mere seconds before Justin could even begin to retaliate, Brad began scribbling his fingers all over the young long-haired boy’s neck, his second-most ticklish spot!

 Justin: PFFFFFFF… HAAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHHAHHAA!!!!!! *Justin laughed so hard he cried the moment he felt Brad’s fingers touch his neck* HOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOLY BUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUCK!!!!!! *SQUEAK* *SQUEAK* GEEEEEYAAAAAHAHAHHAAHAHHAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA!!!!!! BRAHAHAHAHAHAAHAD, GET YOUR BUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUCKING FINGERS AWAY FROHOHOHOHOHOOHOM MY NECK!!!!!! *he pleaded through his laughter, shaking his head as much as he could with every passing second* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHA~!!!!!!

 But he didn’t though! For two whole minutes, Brad tickled the bejesus out of Justin’s neck, going so far as to use the young blond-haired boy’s own long hair against him in addition to his 10 fingers!

 Justin: WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA HAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! NO, NOOHHOHOHOHO, NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!!!!!! *SQUEAK* HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEHEEHEE!!!!!!! DON’T TICKLE ME WITH MY HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAIR, PARTNER!!!!!! *pleaded Justin through his laughter as Brad used his own hair against him* WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE HEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!!!!!!! IT TIHIHIHIHIIHIICKLES MORE THAN YOHOHOHOHHOHOHOHOHOUR FINGERS!!!!!!! *SQUEAK* *SQUEAK* HIHIHIHIHIHIHIHHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA~!!!!!!!

 Brad: Hahahahahaha! I know! *said Brad with a sinister smile, super proud of himself for gaining the upper hand against his best friend big time* Hahahahahahaha~

 Justin: HIHIHIHIHIHIHIHHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA~!!!!!!!

 After the two minutes were up, Justin made an attempt to grab Brad’s wrists; to try and tickle one of Brad’s palms once again. But once Justin did that though, Brad immediately began tickling Justin’s armpits, HIS MOST TICKLISH SPOTS!!! And once Brad starting tickling Justin in those 2 places, it was all over for Justin!

 Justin: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AHAHHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHHAHAAHAHAHA AHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHAHAHHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!! *laughed Justin ferociously as Brad tickled both of his armpits, tears streaming down out of his eyes and onto the floor with every passing second of his relentless tickle torture* BRAAAAAAAAA…HASUFHIRUEUSEHRUGEGIUSHGUIHFIUGRHIUEHRGUIHEABIGUAHE!!!!!!!!!! HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHIHIHHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHI HOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAA~!!!!!!!!!!

 Brad: Hahahahahahahaha! Oh yeah! Now I’ve got you! I’ve got you good now, man! And I’m not gonna stop either! Not until you admit that I beat you! Come on, tap out! You know you want to!

 Justin: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO, HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHHA, NOT A CHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHANCE!!!!!!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, NEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEVER!!!!!!!!!! *Justin somehow managed to say through his laughter, in addition to shaking his head no while squirming and thrashing in ticklish agony* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHHA!!!!!!!!!! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEHEEHEEEHEEHEEHEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE HIHIHHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA~!!!!!!!!!!

 Brad: Heh. Never, you say? Well we’ll just see about that! *stated Brad with an evil smile, digging his fingers into the hollows of Justin’s armpits a bit harder in an attempt to break the young blond-haired boy even faster*

 Justin: WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!! *SQUEAK* *SQUEAK* *SQUEAK* *SQUEAK* HJIESBRLIESIEIUGAEUIRHVIGBSREGURSUIBSLGJSBVJLRBJSBNJVRBSJKGBVLSBGKJR!!!!!!!!!! *SQUEAK* *SQUEAK* *SQUEAK* HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE HIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHHIHIHI HOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA~!!!!!!!!!!

 It truly is all over for Justin at this point! His armpits are most certainly his “death spots” and as Brad tickles them, all Justin can do is laugh… and laugh… and laugh… and laugh… and laugh… to the point that he will laugh in his dreams during the next couple of nights! But he doesn’t want to give up though. Though very unlikely, Justin feels that there’s a chance that he can gain the upper hand against Brad once again. But HARRIET, who had been watching the boys tickle each other for a while now outside of their bedroom in the upstairs hallway without them knowing, doesn’t think so though. And because of that, she decided to step in and take matters into her own hands! But in reality though, she just wants to playfully tickle both of her adopted sons. X3

 Harriet: (Heeheeheehee! Hope you boys won’t mind if I “hop” in! Heeheeheeheehee!)

 Justin: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA~!!!!!!!!!! *Justin laughed once again as Brad continued tickling his extremely ticklish armpits*

 Brad: Hahahahahaha! Just remember, man! If you want this to stop, all you have to do is admit that I won… and that you lost! *stated Brad confidently* Hahahahahahaha… AAAAAAAAAAH! *he shouted nervously a few seconds later when he felt someone’s left arm wrapping around both of his ankles, forcing him to stop tickling Justin entirely* HEY! WOOOOOOAAAAAAAH! *he shouted once more upon feeling his legs being pulled towards Justin’s and then falling flat onto his stomach next to Justin*

 Justin: Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!! Oh, thahahahank god!!!! Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!! It finally stohohohohohopped!!!! *stated Justin while giggling due to phantom tickles, relieved that Brad was no longer tickling his armpits* Hahahahahahahaahahahaha… WAIT! WUT IN TARNATION! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH~!!! *shouted Justin nervously upon feeling the same individual’s left arm wrap around his ankles in addition to Brad’s*

 After shouting nervously for a few seconds, Brad and Justin then turned their heads to see the individual who was responsible for startling them so much. When they turned their heads, they saw a 42-year-old female rabbit monster with PURPLE FUR and big, always bare 3-toed feet that’s currently wearing a PURPLE SUMMER HAT, a black necklace/choker, a lavender tank top with a black corset(?) underneath of it, and black mom jeans. THEIR ADOPTED MOTHER, HARRIET!!!

 Brad and Justin: Mom?!?!

 Harriet: Heeheeheeheehee! Hello, boys! Having a tickle fight, I see. Heeheeheehee! Got room for one more?

 Brad: Hehe. You know it! Help me tickle Justin, will you? He’s gotta pay for tickling my back AND one of my palms!

 Justin: What?! No! Mom, help me tickle Brad! He’s gotta pay for ticklin’ mah armpits and neck so mercilessly!

 Harriet: Heeheeheeheehee; no, my sweet cinnamon buns. *said Harriet cheekily, declining both of her adopted sons’ requests* I’ve got a better idea! A much better idea! *she then said with an “evil” smile, moving her right hand right next to Brad and Justin’s trapped bare feet* Heeheeheehee! And all I need is my fingers and your bare feet! Heeheeheeheehee~

 “And all I need is my fingers and your bare feet.” Once Brad and Justin heard Harriet say that, their eyes widened and their happy smiles turned into nervous smiles.

 Brad and Justin: *nervous gasps* O-oh n-no!! *Brad and Justin shuddered*

 Harriet: Heeheeheeheehee! Nothing to be afraid of, boys! I’m the friendly SNOWDIN SHOPKEEPER, remember? And quite the professional at tickling little boys! Like you! So, tickle, tickle, tickle! Tickle, tickle, tickle, my sweet cinnamon buns! *teased Harriet as she began scribbling her right hand fingers all over Brad and Justin’s bare feet one by one; starting with Brad’s left foot and ending with Justin’s right foot as the two boys lied face down on the floor* Heeheeheeheeheehee!!

 OMG, THE SNOWIN SHOPKEEPER!!! HARRIET IS THE SNOWDIN SHOPKEEPER!!! :O But not just that though; she also happens to be same woman that cared for Brad for 3 whole months after he was separated from Justin and Izzy during their adventures in the Underground. Sure, Toriel may have cared for Brad during his adventures in the Underground but Harriet cared for him longer, until she could no longer protect him. After Brad died, Harriet kept his memory alive by making several Tough Gloves and Manly Bandanas by hand to sell to customers (primarily kids) in her shop. And that happens to be something that she continues to do to this very day. Regardless of the fact that that once dead boy is now back in her life!

 Brad: PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF… HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA!!!!!!! *Brad laughed hysterically upon feeling Harriet’s furry fingers touch the sole of his left foot* OHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHHOHOH MY GOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOD!!!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, *SNORT* MOHOHOHOHOHOHOM, YOUR FUR!!!!!!! *SNORT* HAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, YOUR FUHUHUHUHUHUHUR, IT TIHIHIHIHIHICKLES!!!!!!! HAHAHAHHAHAAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!!!!!!! IT TIHIHIHIHIHIHICKLES!!!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA~!!!!!!! *he laughed some more, hugging Justin tightly as a means of dealing with his current tickle torture*

 Harriet: Heeheeheehee! *sniffles* Oh, how I’ve missed tickling your cute little feet, Brad! *said Harriet with a huge smile, crying tears of joy due to being given a chance to tickle a boy she never thought she would be able to tickle again* Heeheeheeheehee! Kitchie kitchie koo, my sweet cinnamon bun! *sniffles* Kitchie kitchie koo! *she teased as she began tickling Brad’s right foot*

 Brad: BWAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! OHOHOOHOHHOHOHOH CRAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAAP!!!!!!! *SNORT* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAAHHAAHHAHA!!!!!!! *SNORT* *SNORT* MOHOHOHOHOHOHOOHOM, HAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA, TIKCLE JUSTIN’S FEET INSTEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHAD!!!!!!! *stated Brad through his laughter, moments before catching a glimpse of his mother crying tears of joy* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! WAHAHAHAHAHAIT!!!!!!! HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, ACTUALLY, HAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! KEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEP TICKLING ME!!!!!!! *SNORT* HAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! KEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEP TIHIHIHIHIHIHIHICKLING ME,PLEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEASE!!!!!!! *SNORT* HAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! I LOHOHOHOHOHOOVE IT!!!!!!! *SNORT* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA~!!!!!!!

 And he does too! Despite all of his pleads, Brad is enjoying himself immensely! And Justin has been too for that matter; even during that moment when Brad tickled his hyper-sensitive armpits. And Harriet knows it too! She’s tickled Brad before; on multiple occasions; and right now, she is tickling both him and Justin in a similar fashion to how she used to tickle her two biological sons, Benny and Robbie, years before they became a ROYAL GUARDSMAN and the NICE CREAM SALESMAN respectively. ;)

 Harriet: Heeheeheeheehee! Ooh, yeah, I can tell! Heeheeheeheehee! I can definitely tell! *said Harriet as she began scratching Brad’s right heel* Heeheeheeheeheeheeheehee~

 Brad: FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA HAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAAHHAHHAHAHAHAAHHAHHAHAHAHAHA~!!!!!!! *Brad laughed so hard that he didn’t bother trying to speak for the next while*

 After ticking Brad’s feet for about three minutes; alternating between tickling his left foot and right foot with every passing second; Harriet then switched over to Justin’s feet; starting with his left foot as he continued lying face down on the floor next to Brad.

 Justin: PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF… WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!!!!!!! *Justin squealed and laughed hysterically upon feeling Harriet’s furry fingers touch the sole of his left foot* OH MY GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAWSH!!!!!!! *SQUEAK* HAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHA!!!!!!! *he laughed some more, hugging Brad tightly as a means of dealing with his current tickle torture* OHOHOHOHHOHOHOH MY GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAWSH, THOHOHOHHOHOSE FUHUHUHUHUHUHURRY FINGERS TICKLE!!!!!!! *SQUEAK* *SQUEAK* HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!!!!!! WAHAHAHAHAHY MORE THAHAHAHAAHAN I THOHOHOHHOHOUGHT THEY WOHOHOHOHOULD!!!!!!! *SQUEAK* HEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHIHIHIHIHHIHIHIHIHIIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHI HOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA~!!!!!!!

 This is the first time that Harriet has ever tickled Justin; and so far, he is not disappointing her. His laughter is just so pure and adorable and as she tickles him, she finds it rather amusing how his Southern accent just plain disappears. It’s so weird! One moment, he’s talking like a natural-born cowboy and then the next moment, he’s talking like someone that appears to show no interest in Westerns whatsoever while laughing his head off.

 Harriet: Heeheeheeheeheehee! Gitchie gitchie goo, my other sweet cinnamon bun! *teased Harriet as she continued tickling Justin’s left foot* Heeheeheeheehee! Sweet carrot cakes with cream cheese frosting, your laugh is so cute! Heeeheeheeheehee! Oh, I could just tickle your feet all night, Justin! And throughout all of the following morning! *she said with a heartwarming smile as she switched over to Justin’s right foot* Heeheeheeheeheehee! Gitchie gitchie goo goo goo goo!

 Justin: HAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHHAHAHAAHAHA!!!!!!! NO, DOHOHOHHOHOHOHOHOHON’T DO THAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAT!!!!!!! *pleaded Justin through his laughter while wiggling all of his toes like crazy and continuing to hug Brad tightly, not entirely sure if he could handle being tickled for hours on end* I DOHOHOHOHHON’T KNOW IF I COHOHOHOOHOULD HAHAHAHAHHANDLE THAHAHAHAT MUCH TIHIHIHIHICKLING!!!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHA!!!!!!!

 Harriet: Heeheeheeheehee! Well, we can always find out. *said Harriet cheekily, giving Justin the impression that she might tickle his feet during the last few hours of the day* Heeheeheeheeheeheehee! Gitchie gitchie goo! Gitchie gitchie goo goo goo goo! *she teased, tickling both of Justin’s feet in a crazy fast manner; left sole, right sole, left sole, right sole, and so on* Heeheeheeheeheeheehee~

 Justin: WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!!!!!!! *Justin laughed even harder, wiggling and splaying all 10 of his toes in his blue jeans with every passing second as he cried consistent streams of tears from both of his eyes* GAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHA!!!!!!! *SQUEAK* *SQUEAK* HIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE HOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HIHIHIHHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE HOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA~!!!!!!!

 After tickling Justin’s feet for 3 whole minutes, Harriet stopped to give him a much needed breather.

 Harriet: Heeheeheeheehee; having fun, boys?

 Justin: Hehehehe. You’re darn tootin’, Mama Bunny!

 Brad: Hehe. Oh, yeah, fo’ sho’!

 Harriet: Heeheeheeheehee! Terrific! So that means we can do this again tomorrow, right? When the three of us have the house to ourselves?

 Brad and Justin: *excited gasps*

 Brad: HOLY CRAP, YES!!

 Justin: OH MAH GAWSH, ABSOLUTELY!!

 Harriet: Heeheeheeheehee! FANTABULOUS! We’ll start sometime after breakfast tomorrow morning! After Benny, Robbie, and Heather leave to do their things!

 While a family tickle war with all 6 members of the family does sound tempting, Harriet would first like some more tickle time with her two adopted sons; and luckily for her, tomorrow will give her a perfect opportunity to do such a thing since her three biological children will only be home long enough to eat breakfast the following morning.

 Harriet: Speaking of Benny, Robbie, and Heather; you should know they’ve been watching you boys tickle each other too. Not the whole time; but for a while, anyway. Heeheehee.

 Just as Harriet was talking, a tall soon-to-be 19-year-old rabbit monster with blue fur and big, always bare 3-toed feet wearing a yellow shirt and red pants entered the room briefly. IT WAS ROBBIE aka THE NICE CREAM GUY!! :D

 Robbie: Hahaha! It’s true, we have! Hahaha! And when you crazy kids get done in here, feel free to help yourselves to some free Nice Cream! It’s the frozen treat that warms you heart! *said Robbie out of habit with a BIG SMILE on his face* Or share a bisicle, whatever you cute kids prefer.

 Brad: Haha! Will do, Robbie! You’re a real COOL brother, you know that?

 Robbie: Oh, Brad, you! *said Robbie all flattered as he exited the room* Hahahahahaha! You flatter me, young man! Hahahahahaha~

 Harriet: Heeheeheeheehee! Good idea, Robbie! *said Harriet despite the fact that Robbie was no longer in the room* But before you boys do that though, heeheeheehee, there’s just one teensy tiny little thing I’d like to do first. *she then said cheekily with a giggle, wiggling her 6 furry toes against the bedroom floor during the next few seconds* Heeheeheeheehee~

 Brad and Justin: Oh yeah? What’s that? *asked Brad and Justin curiously at the same time*

 Harriet: Heeheeheeheehee! *giggled Harriet as she proceeded to sit on Brad’s bed* Lie down on the floor with your legs under this bed and I’ll show you. Heeheeheeheehee! *she giggled once more, wiggling her 6 toes against the floor a second time*

 Brad: (*excited gasp* Yes! Yes, I used to love this so much!) *said Brad excitedly to himself, knowing very well what Harriet wants to do*

 With that said; Brad and Justin then proceeded to position themselves on the floor; Brad mere inches to the left Harriet and Justin mere inches to the right of Harriet. Then, once they were officially lying on the floor, they slid their legs underneath Brad’s bed, just as Harriet asked them to do.

 Brad: Hehehehehe. All right, I’m ready, Mom. *said Brad with a smile after pulling up his orange t-shirt* Justin, open your shirt. *he then said to Justin*

 Justin: Huh? What’d you jus’ say, pahrtner? *asked Justin confusedly*’

 Brad: You heard me. Open… your shirt.

 Justin: Oh, well alrighty then. *said Justin, nervously opening his shirt to expose his bare torso* Ok, ah done opened mah shirt, pahrtner. Happy?

 Brad: Hehehehehe. Heck yes! Because that means that Mom is now able to…

 Harriet: TICKLE YOU WITH MY TOES! *interrupted Harriet in a singsongy voice, mere seconds before she began tickling Brad and Justin’s stomachs with her 6 furry toes; Brad’s stomach with her 3 left foot toes and Justin’s stomach with her 3 right foot toes* Heeheeheeheeheehee! Gitchie, gitchie, goo, you absolutely precious little boys! Heeheeheeheeheehee!

 Brad and Justin: HAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHHAHAHA~!!!!!!! *the two boys laughed both hysterically and preciously the moment they felt Harriet’s furry toes glide against their stomachs, quivering and quivering with every passing ticklish sensation they felt in their upper bodies*

 Justin: HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! OHOHHOHOHOHOH MY GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHWSH, HAHAHAAHAHHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, MOM!!!!!!! HIHIHIHHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIIHIHIHEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE, YOHOHOHOOHOHOUR TOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOES TICKLE EVEN MOHOHOHOHOHOORE THAN YOHOHOHOHOHOHOUR FINGERS!!!!!!! *SQUEAK* *SQUEAK* WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHI HOHOHOHOHHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA~!!!!!!!

 Harriet: Heeheeheeheehee! I know. *said Harriet with a sly smile, knowing exactly what she’s doing* Isn’t it just fantabulous, boys? *she asked cheekily, before proceeding to drum her toes against Brad and Justin’s stomachs* Heeheeheheeheeheehee!

 Brad: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! *Brad laughed even harder, Harriet’s left foot toes tickling him in all the right places on his stomach to get the best laughs possible out of him* YEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHES!!!!!!! *SNORT* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! VERY, *SNORT* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, FAHAHAHAHAANTABULOHOHOUS!!!!!!! *SNORT* BWAHAHAAHAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHHAHA!!!!!!! OHOHHOHOHOHOH GOHOHOHOHHOHOSH!!!!!!! *SNORT* HOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO HAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHA~!!!!!!!

 Justin: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHAHHAA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!! *Justin laughed harder as well, ticklish sensations overflowing his stomach enough to make him kick his legs and wiggle and splay his toes underneath Brad’s bed* OHOOHOHOHOHOHOH GOHOHOHOHOHOOSH INDEED, PAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHARTNER!!!!!!! *SQUEAK* *SQUEAK* HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHA!!!!!!! HOHHOHOHOHOHOHOLY COW, THIS TICKLES SOHOHOHOHO MUCH!!!!!!! *SQUEAK* WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEHEEEHIHIHHIHIHIHIHIIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHHI HOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHAHAHHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA~!!!!!!!

 After 2 minutes, Harriet finished it all out by wiggling her toes against Brad and Justin’s stomachs; every single inch of them, not leaving a single area untouched.

 Brad and Justin: GLAAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA AHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!! *the two boys laughed ferociously, flailing on the floor underneath Harriet’s big feet with every immensely ticklish sensation they felt* FDUASIGELRFIUSGIHESBGESIGBSEBGRBSER!!!!!!!! *they then tried to speak through their laughter, all while kicking their legs and wiggling and splaying their toes underneath Brad’s bed as means of dealing with their current tickle torture* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHAHHAHHHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHAHAHA!!!!!!!! *SNORT* *SNORT* *SNORT*/*SQUEAK* *SQUEAK* *SQUEAK* HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE HIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHHIHIHIHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE HIHIHIHHIHHHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHHIHIHIOHOHOHOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHHOHOHO HAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA~!!!!!!!!

 Harriet: Heeheeheeheehee! You boys are just so cute! Heeheeheehee! Oh my gosh, I could just tickle you boys forever and ever. You know that, don’t you? Heeheeheeheeheehee!

 Brad and Justin: HAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA~!!!!!!!! *the boys continued laughing, completely ignoring their mother’s question as tears began forming in their eyes*

 Harriet: Heeheeheeheehee! You most certainly do. Heeheeheeheeheehee~

 Brad and Justin: HAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA~!!!!!!!!

 Harriet wiggled her toes against Brad and Justin’s stomachs for two whole minutes, relishing in the sweet sound that was their boyish laughter all the while she did so. It was music to her long, beautiful ears and by the time she stopped tickling her adopted sons, Brad and Justin themselves pulled their legs out from underneath Brad’s bed and gave her big hugs, thanking her for tickling them and for being such a wonderful mother.

 Harriet: Awww! I love you too, boys. *said Harriet, crying tears of joy* Oh g-gosh; words cannot describe how happy I am right now.

 Brad: Hehe. I know. It’s all just so much to take in, isn’t it? *asked Brad, referring to his and Justin’s resurrections*

 Harriet: *sniffles* Uh-huh. But I’m most certainly grateful for it. And this time, I’m going to do everything I can to protect you; both of you… and Benny and Robbie and Heather. No matter what!

 Justin: Oh, yeah, we know ya will, Mom; jus’ like Aunt Heidi, the INNKEEPER, will do everythin’ she can ta protect Izzy… and Bastian and Bekah and Bebe.

 Harriet: *sniffles* I’m happy to hear you think so, boys. *sniffles* ………Ha… ha… Well, anyhoo, who wants ice cream? After all that tickling, you’ve got to be hungry for some, right? I know you are, Brad; heeheehee; but what about you, Justin? Do you want any ice cream?

 Justin: Hehehe. Yes. Yes, ah reckon ah do. Hehehehe. But, ah’m not sure if I want a Nice Cream or a Bisicle. …Hmmm…

 Harriet: Heeheehee. How about both? Heeheehee.

 Justin: What?! Really?! No foolin’?! Hehe; thank ya, Mom! Thank ya!

 Brad: Hehe. Oh, wow; thanks, Mom!

 Harriet: Heeheeheehee! You’re very welcome, my sweet cinnamon buns! X3

 THE END.

[justjessame]

Dr. Tali Sullivan Chapter 32

Our new routine, now that I was home and being watched for ANY sign that our baby was about to make his grand debut, was pretty damn amazing. Harvey never really took vacation time before we met, and he had stockpiles of it along with his own parental leave, so he and I revelled in our time together with Abigail. Aside from the papers that my students sent that needed to be graded, and the reports he had to file, most of our days were spent sitting together, inside or on the porch, while Abi explored under our careful watch.

Letters and gifts kept coming from John, and Mary I suspected, and each one was tucked carefully away for Abi to deal with when the time came. Her big brothers checked in almost daily, and listening to them try to carry on full conversations with her and hold her attention for longer and longer became one of my favorite parts of the day.

Harvey would let them know any updates on me and our impending arrival, then I would get to say goodbye and promise that we’d let them know when the baby came. Castiel was on standby, fearful that he wouldn’t be called to stand with us when I gave birth for a second time. And Rowena and Crowley were on pins and needles as well. Only my parents were taking it in stride.

“There’s no point in worrying,” Mom reminded Harvey as he was going over his checklist for the mad dash to the hospital when the time came. “You’ll be fine. Just don’t forget the most important part.”

Harvey nodded and replied with, “having a fully gassed up car and her go bag.”

Mom and I shared a look, trying not to laugh. “Or,” she offered, getting him to look up from his list, “maybe, Tali?”

He blanched, realizing that I wasn’t on the list, apparently. “It’s kind of hard to give birth without the actual mother around, babe.” And that did it, Mom and I laughed long and hard as my dad commiserated with my baby-daddy.

 It happened so close to the due date my doctor had first given us, that Harvey joked he should have given odds and won some money. He argued with me about taking the time to drop off Abi at my parents, fearful that I’d pop in the car, but gave in when I reminded him that it had taken hours for her to come out. Then off to the hospital, legs in stirrups, and my extended family surrounding us in the family delivery room I insisted on.

Cas held one of my hands, while Harvey had the other, and Rowena had taken her former spot at my head. Crowley, watched from the corner by my bed, and together they kept me from freaking out and giving in to the pain. Of course, that could just have been Cas and Rowena’s special help, but soon the sounds of our son’s cries were echoing through the small room. Harvey’s eyes were flush with tears as he went with the nurse to cut the cord, and Rowena was kissing my temple and telling me how good I’d done. Cas and Crowley were beaming as an angel and demon only could, having added to their roles as ‘uncles’ once more.

“Have you chosen a name?” Crowley asked, coming closer once I’d been cleaned up a bit and our little boy was cradled in my arms.

I smirked up at Harvey and saw how wide his smile had grown. “Caelum Jayson Russell,” Harvey offered, kissing the red hair that crowned the tiny head of our son.

“Caelum?” Cas’ eyes grew wide. “You’re naming him after the heavens?”

“I’ve lived through hell, Cas, only to find heaven.” I whispered, drinking in the tiny form snuggled against me. “It seemed perfect.”

“Aye,” Rowena said, her hand cupping Caelum’s head. “It is.”

  My parents came soon after, Abi in Dad’s arms and looking fit to burst with excitement. Caelum had been fed, dressed, and was wearing the tiny hat and mitts on his hands so he wouldn’t scratch himself. I watched with a smile as our daughter stared at her baby brother with the wonder only a two year old could possess.

Harvey propped her up in the soft chair near my bed, adding a pillow to her lap, and helped her hold her little brother for the first time. I watched as he knelt in front of our children, whispering to Abi about how good she was doing as a big sister, and how much Caelum loved her. She was whispering back to her daddy, mimicking his voice so the baby wouldn’t fuss, and then I felt like my heart would explode when she leaned forward and kissed his soft head.

“They’re beautiful,” Mom offered, watching my tiny family bonding nearby. She’d taken out a camera and was capturing the moment, and I realized that Dad had his phone out recording it.

 We were all home a day later. The fridge stocked with enough reheatable food so we didn’t have to worry about meals, and enough drinks and snacks on hand to make unnecessary errands avoidable. Flowers, multiple vases of flowers greeted me when we walked inside, and Harvey shrugged as my parents greeted us with Abi hot on their heels.

“It looks like a funeral home in here,” I whispered, and shut my eyes at the darkness of that joke. “Sorry. Lots of flowers.” Lame, Tali, so very lame.

Mom shook her head and helped get me settled in my regular seat on the sofa as Harvey came behind carrying Caelum. “Yes, well, everyone seemed to want to greet you with blooming flowers.” She picked up a stack of the tiny cards that must have come with the bouquets, along with larger cards and handed them to me. “I wrote which arrangement came from whom on the back of the cards.” Then she went toward the kitchen, telling us that she was making lunch.

Harvey grinned at me as I took in the pile. “Let’s see who loves you so much, sweetheart.”

I had one from Dean, one from Sam, Crowley, Cas, and Rowena all sent an arrangement each, although Ro’s was lavender and chamomile to help keep us calm and serene with our new bundle. John and Mary had sent a card, which I dutifully handed to Harvey to share. I had one from my parents, one from the college, a few from the businesses I’d become a frequent face in. Abi’s daycare had sent us a card, as had Harvey’s boss and some of his coworkers. The amount of well wishes was something new for me, since Abi’s birth had been so secretive. Yet, even John and Mary’s made me feel warmth.

Abi came back in and crawled onto the couch with us, smiling as I pulled her onto my lap. “I missed you, princess,” I offered, kissing her forehead. “Are you happy that we’re home?”

She giggled as her daddy tweaked her tiny nose and she gently reached out and touched her little brother’s bright hair. “No more?”

I was confused, but Harvey just chuckled. “No more what, Abi?”

“Babies,” she answered, staring up at me so solemnly that I had to fight my own laugh from coming out. “Just us?”

Biting my lip and feeling Harvey’s own mirth vibrate against my side, I nodded. “Yes, Abi, just us. No more babies,” I shook my head and smiled as Harvey’s mouth touched my neck.

“Just practice from here on out,” he murmured against my skin as I felt the curve of his smile.

[etherealblasphemy]

From Now On

it took me far too long to write this...

TW: Cursing (lots), alcohol, people getting drunk, talk of past death, talk of past injuries, implied rape (any more just let me know)

It was a fun ride back to Remy’s. Cal refused to take off their attire for the time being, wanting this feeling of youth to last just a bit longer, adding a dash of wine-colored lipstick to complete their ensemble. As the familiar planet grew closer on the pilot’s dashboard, a comfortable silence fell over the group.

   “So, how do you guys know Remy?” Cal asked, curious as to how the steampunk became so close with the outlaws. Side glances were traded, hinting at a story Cal was willing to hear. “Come on, tell me!” they wheedled, pouting.

   “It’s a... story, to say the least,” Patton sighed, running a hand through his hair. Cal shrugged. “Well, I guess we do have time.” He gestured for Cal to come closer, so they picked up their stool and waddled with it between their legs, unwilling to properly stand and waste their energy on those sort of activities. Logan huffed, not seeing the necessity of recounting past adventures when there was no way to re-experience them for oneself.

   “Don’t forget all the juicy details,” Cal said, their eyes shining with excitement.

   “Alright, kiddo, calm yourself before you fall of your chair,” Patton warned, pointing at the transparent floor, where Cal’s stool was tipped so far over it would take but a breeze to blow them over. Cal made a sound of surprise, righting their chair as they thanked the paternal shapeshifter. “I don’t really remember when we first went to Remy’s. I do remember the first time xie talked with us, though,” Patton laughed, eyes brimming with distant memories he wished he could share with Calrex.

   “Wasn’t it just after Anxiety joined our crew?” Roman interjected, finally bored with playing with Anxiety’s hands, which rested just in front of his face as the being the hands belonged to slumped against the chair, tuckered out from the heist. Patton hummed, his eyes glancing up as he tried to remember if Roman’s statement was true.

   “I believe it was,” Logan added. “Correct me if I’m wrong- though I do not believe that will be a problem- I recall Anxiety was still rather distant with us, and Patton decided to make a stop at Sleeping Stars, hoping to cheer Anxiety up and prove he could trust us.” Cal noted how stiff Anxiety’s shoulders were, and caught Roman’s eye, jerking their head towards the sullen human. The prince nodded, pulling Anxiety’s hands close to his chest, massaging them with his fingertips. Slowly, the emo’s shoulder relaxed once more as Cal tuned in once more to the story Logan was telling. “...Remy approached us, interested in the song that Anxiety was singing.” The robot turned towards the human. “What song was it again? I apologize, I must have deleted that data to increase my data storage,” Logan inquired.

   “It was ‘Welcome to the Black Parade’ by My Chemical Romance,” Anxiety mumbled. Logan thanked him and continued.

   “As Anxiety was intoxicated beyond belief-”

   “Hey, it’s not my fault that I can’t hold my beer! Blame genetics!” Anxiety complained, accidentally wapping Roman’s face, who shrieked at his precious visage being damaged. Cal sniggered.

   “Quiet! I am the orator of this narrative, not you,” Logan ordered, straightening the glasses he had yet to take off from the bank robbery. He cleared his throat. “As I was previously saying, Anxiety was rather intoxicated, and thusly had little control over his volume. I suspect Remy heard us and came over to investigate. At first, we were all quite confused as to why the vivacious steampunk we’d learned earlier to be the owner was approaching us, perhaps to throw us out for creating such a commotion.”

   Patton nearly jumped out of his seat to interject. “And then Remy came over and ogled us for a while before Logan freaked out and demanded to know why xie were watching us!” the shapeshifter giggled, recalling Logan’s expressions from the incident. Logan huffed in frustration.

   “I did not ‘freak out’, as you say. I am a highly advanced AI unit and am not capable of producing emotions. I simply wanted to deescalate the situation before xie kicked us out,” Logan argued, crossing his arms in annoyance. Anxiety rolled his eyes at the monologue. “To get back on track, I asked Remy why xie were observing us, and xie came up and sat down in our booth, resting xir head in xir palm,” Logan narrated with a stone cold face. “Xie asked what Anxiety was singing, to which he replied-”

   “‘The best goddamn song you’ll ever hear, fucker!’” Roman quoted, cutting off the robot who let out a groan of irritation as Cal threw their head back, cackling as they smacked their hands together, thoroughly satisfied with the storytelling so far.

   “Let’s listen to me, how about that? Remember who’s telling the story?” Logan asked as he pursed his lips. Cal could tell he was trying his best not to murder the prince right then and there. The AI composed himself again, remembering he would have witnesses. “As I was going to say, Anxiety replied with ‘the best song you’ll ever hear’- no, Roman, I am not adding the swear words in. Naturally, Remy, being Remy, asked to hear the whole song, which Anxiety happily did. He somehow managed to clamber onto of the table and scream it at the top of his lungs. Remy was entertained, to say the least, and announced that Anxiety was xir favorite kid. To make a long story short, xie ended up kidnapping Anxiety to the back room and forcing him to try on old clothes of Remy’s that no longer fit xem. He looks rather flattering with make-up, I must say.”

   “Mmm, sounds like Remy to pull that sort of shit,” Cal mused, shaking their head. “I feel sorry for you, Anxiety. It’s always traumatizing to meet Remy,” they joked. Patton hollered, his cheery disposition finally cracking Logan and making him flash a wavering smile at the Drisine.

   As the ship sped through galaxy systems, the crew made small talk until Roman asked, “Cal, how do you know Remy?” They chuckled.

   “Let’s just keep it short and say I like to scare people, and Remy has a banshee scream,” Cal told them, recalling the incident of how they met Remy. “I spent so many galleons trying to replace the shot glasses.” Patton laughed, evidently knowing what Cal was talking about.

   “Hey, kiddos, we’re about to arrive, so get settled before Roman falls on his face again,” Patton reminded them. Roman gasped at Patton’s betrayal as Anxiety muffled a snicker. Judging by their reactions, it probably happened often.

   “That was one time!” Roman claimed. Logan raised an eyebrow.

   “You’ve failed to secure yourself for landing thirty-nine times now,” Logan interjected as Roman huffed angrily. “I hardly count that as ‘one time’, unless you have a different counting system than me?” Roman shook his head, falling into a grumpy mood.

   “I have an image to keep up, thank you very much! I’m a prince, through and through, no matter how clumsy I am!” Roman proclaimed, sighing loudly. Cal and Anxiety covered their sniggers with a cough, finding some sort of amusement in the prince’s humiliation.

   A comfortable silence fell over the group as the stars raced past them, time and space bending to their urge to drown the crashing adrenaline in liquor and drunken laughter. At long last, the familiar black and white skies came into view and Cal silently cheered, ready to waste about half of the revenue they’d gained in the little adventure on Levian. Patton geared up the shields on the ship as they slipped into the atmosphere loaded with security that was no match for the Sanders Yersinia.

   Remy, fortunately, had gone on another escapade on some exotic planet, where xie were sure to woo a lucky local. That meant the poor bartender who had to deal with intoxicated patrons for a living would only let in those Remy considered ‘friends.’ Though the term, in Remy’s mind, was applied rather broadly, it was still a much smaller group of patrons than the normal traffic of Sleeping Stars. They had already shed much of their disguises so that they could be recognized, and were waved in almost immediately upon providing their names.

   They chose a booth in the far corner, close to the gnarled tree that crawled up the wall like an old man hobbling down a cobblestone street. The bartender noticed the frequent visitors and waved, already preparing their usual orders. They came over and handed out the tall glasses: Cal received a Harvey Wallbanger; Roman, a frothy red drink that sloshed dangerously close to the rim of the cup; Anxiety, a sparkling, fizzy liquid that smelled suspiciously like flowers for some reason; and Patton, a cup of milk and a cookie.

   “I’ll tell Remy you guys stopped by,” the bartender told them as they hurried back to the counter, several patrons already waving their empty glasses towards them.

   “Thanks, Joan!” Cal called to them, already wolfing down their drink. They slammed an empty glass on the table with a satisfied burp. “Damn, I love these things,” they mused as Roman nearly choked on his own drink at the sight.

   Anxiety followed Cal’s example and chugged his drink, spilling most of it and let out a whoop. “That stuff’s so hard to swallow…” He glanced at Roman. “Don’t even think about making an innuendo out of that, Princey,” he warned.

    Logan huffed, displeased. As a robot, he was unable to drink. Cal assumed he was likely the one to deal with the drunkards. “Please don’t make me play babysitter again,” he pleaded, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he shut his eyes.

   “I’m getting another Wallbanger!” Cal scrambled out of their seat, nearly tripping over the lanky legs as they rushed for the counter, slamming a golden coin on the shiny surface as they ordered another glass. “Stupid fuckin’ metabolism, can’t even enjoy the good shit without getting tipsy,” they slurred. The bartender, after attending to patrons who had previously ordered drinks, slid the refilled glass towards Cal, who grabbed it eagerly as they ran back to the booth, magically not spilling any of the drink.

   This time, they sipped their drink at intervals, already feeling the room spin. “Calypso, I wish I could hold my liquor,” they said. “But, hey, it’s much more fun when I’m drunk and you all get to tell me about it when I wake up later with a brutal hangover!” they cheered, smiling lopsidedly. Patton offered them a grin as he munched contently on his cookie, appearing like a little child as he bit into the chocolate chips and baked flour.

   “Tell us, Cal, how did you end up getting on Draven’s bad side? Normally people just become his puppets and he doesn’t have to worry about them,” Roman asked, waving his hands enthusiastically. Cal took a long sip of the Harvey Wallbanger, taking their sweet time.

   “I dunno, he’s the asshole who likes fucking up people’s lives, isn’t he?” they grumbled, shaking an angry fist at the sky. Patton said something about language, but Cal couldn’t hear it. They were tipsy and had no time for a filter in the retelling of their dramatic origin story. “I have no shitting idea why in the name of Calypso the universe chose to bestow me with the most tragic backstory in all the universe,” they muttered bitterly. Anxiety downed his second glass and motioned for them to continue.

   “Do I have to?” they whined, the liquid in their glass already gone, so soon after their first. Their vision was starting to get blurrier, their speech thicker with the slight accent the others had hardly noticed at first.

   “Not if you don’t want to,” Patton said worriedly as Cal waved his concerns away.

   “I want to, but I want to just project into your minds instead of having to actually say anything,” they grumbled drunkenly. They coughed, their face marred as they gagged at the aftertaste of their drink. Anxiety barked out a loud laugh, he, too, already feeling the effects of sweet, sweet alcohol. “Fine, I might as well get it over with now before I drink too much and can’t even make a real sentence. It’s real easy for police to know you’re flying drunk when you keep screaming ‘Unicorns have feelings, too!’ at them,” they laughed. Their knees were bouncing rapidly underneath the table. They’d better start now before they drank too much.

   “Yeah, you better tell us before I regress into my emo phase,” Anxiety threatened.

   “Fine, fine,” they conceded, tipping their head all the way back to drink the final sips of their drink. “Dunno where to start, though. My backstory is too complicated for a drunken ramble.” They hummed, lolling their head back as they thought of a good place to start. “Hmm. I never knew my parents, first thing I remember is running around the orphanage as the Headmx tried to corral us for the weekly adoption day. Fuckin’ blast, amirite?” they huffed plaintively.

   “Anyways, I grew up in an orphanage, hated the place and the people, yada yada yada, no-one cares about that bullshittery, let’s get into the juicy details- are you going to drink that, Roman?” Cal asked, pointing to a shot of something purple sloshing around in the clear glass. Roman shook his head and Cal grabbed the glass, dunking it immediately with a whoop. “Right. Let’s do this.” They set the empty glass gingerly on the table.

   “I was, like, the failure of the orphanage. Nobody would adopt me. It’s sad, yeah, but at least I got food n’ shit. Ooo, there was this one kid, though. I still hate him. His name was something like, oh, what was it.” Cal snapped their fingers, struggling to put name to face. “Caleb, was it? No, he was a spring fling later on. Maybe Cerulean? No, that’s color.” Realization hit their face.

   “Cato! That’s his name!” They said, slamming their palm flat on the table with a loud bang. Patton paled; Cal noticed this out of the corner of their eyes. “Do you know him, Patton?” Cal asked loudly, definitely beyond their alcohol limit. Patton nodded demurely, flustered. “No way! How do you know that little shit?”

   “I… grew up in an orphanage, too,” Patton confessed shyly. “There was another Drisine named Cato there, but I didn’t like him very much. He was always picking on this poor kiddo,” he reminisced as Cal’s eyes blew wide.

   “No fucking way! That was me!” they exclaimed excitedly. “Small universe, ain’t it?” A bolt of recognition hit them as they turned suddenly to Patton. “Were you that Drisine named Pattryon?” Patton nodded. “Oh, my Calypso, I knew you! How cool is that?” They flopped contently back into their seat, calming down some. “An’ways, Cato. Little prick who liked putting his fists to good work. I gotta thank him, to be honest. If it weren’t for him, I never would have run away.” Roman tilted his head.

   “Fucker tried to kill me,” Cal explained to the shock of the growing audience. Patrons from across the pub who had heard the loud story were clumping together in interest, dragging over bar stools and sitting on the floor, leaning forward as they drank in the eccentric storyteller. By now, Cal had managed to clamber on top of the table, towering over all others in their heeled combat boots. “He didn’t wield a knife too well, though. He tried to stab my heart and ended up stabbing the floor. I’m sure it didn’t appreciate the gesture very much.” A particularly rowdy patron roared with drunken laughter.

   “So I kicked the little shit where it counts and got out of there right then and there.” Cal posed proudly, earning applause from their audience. They smiled, waving like a diva at a couple patrons, and spun around, causing their dress to fan out. Cal sighed happily, the blush on their cheeks not just from drunken joy. “I don’t even remember how I did it- all I know is that I was picked by a ship of outlaws who called themselves ‘The Dragon Witches.’” A couple patrons recognized the name and made various remarks, most about how the gang had robbed them of their girlfriends.  “Damn right, they raised me, you little shit!” Cal screamed at a patron who had more than a grumble to say about Cal’s foster family.

   “Calypso, those were the days,” they reminisced. “Oh, we had so much fun. The captain was the best. Gee, I miss Talyn... Sometimes, when I missing the orphanage for Calypso knows why, Talyn would plop their cat in my lap and give me a talking-to. I mean, generally that consisted of a fuck ton of curses, so you see I resemble them, but it was still comforting to hear their words.” Cal smiled wistfully as the audience shook their heads in acquiescence, some wiping away non-existent tears from their eyes.

   “And then I met Cassandra Ildris.” Cal’s grin widened bittersweetly. “She was... just amazing. She grew up on the ship and had been Talyn’s favorite up until I showed up (because, let’s be honest, I am everybody’s favorite). At first, we absolutely hated each other. If I saw Cassandra, I would turn around and walk in the other direction after yelling something obscene. I was a fucking dick, lemme tell you,” Cal laughed. “Eventually we had one of those moments where you see things from the other’s perspective and BOOM, baby, we were inseparable.”

   “What did you do for free time?” a patron shouted. Cal smirked, hopping off the table and landing on the floor with a heavy thud.

   “Robbed bitches who didn’t know gratitude even if it slapped them in their ugly faces,” Cal replied with a flip of their hair. “We never got caught. The rich tend to be too stupid to realize that if a peasant has determination and a chip on their shoulder, you might as well leave the door unlocked at night.” The patrons drank to that, clapping exaggeratedly.

   Cal’s smile disappeared, leaving half-glazed eyes and a frown. “Then Draven came.” The pub fell silent at the mention of the ruler’s name. “To this day, I don’t know what we did to piss his royal ass off.” Cal shrugged, sitting on the edge of the table, swinging their legs forlornly. “That day… the heavens were painted crimson like Calypso herself was bleeding. We had celebrated Cassie’s seventeenth birthday. I was fifteen at the time. She looked so pretty in her dress, twirling under the stars in the Observation Deck, like a goddess.” Cal wiped away a tear that had spilled over their eyelids.

   “I should’ve known the joy wouldn’t last for long. It never does.”

   Cal took a shaky breath. “Draven him-fucking-self stormed our ship with his best soldiers. Half of them were my age; I can still see the fear in their eyes if I focus hard enough. Draven’s an idiot, using kids as his disposable pawns.” They shook their head, blinking away the hot tears threatening to show themselves. “It was a massacre. We put up our best fight, but it was useless. Cassie’s mother was shot through the fuckin’ head right in front of me, protecting her daughter. I’ll never forget the sight of the light leaving her eyes as the blood poured out of her skull, and I sure as fuck won’t forgive ever Draven.” They swallowed thickly, knowing what was coming up in their trip down memory lane.

   “I took Cassie’s hand and we ran to the storage bays. We were transporting a shit ton of stuff then, so I thought it would easy to hide among the crates. But Draven found us.” A hush fell over the crowd leaning in their seats to hear what happened next. The tears began falling quickly, streams and rivers down Cal’s cheeks. “I just wish I could have told her how much she meant to me. How much I loved her.” Cal heard their voice crack, covering their mouth to choke back a sob. “Draven ordered some soldier not much older than us to hold me back. I could feel his trembles. That little fucker of a king made me watch as he… he…” Cal shut their eyes, the memory flashing before them. The audience gasped, understanding what Cal couldn’t voice. “He finished by shooting her three times in the heart.” The thick silence fell once more, despair and depravity coating the grief in a wool blanket made of memories.

   “I couldn’t stop screaming,” Cal whimpered, wiping away more tears with the back of their hand. “I blacked out or something. I woke up who knows how long after in a small escape pod. Talyn was piloting. They told me they found me passed out over Cassie. My hands were stained with her blood… Talyn told me they had no idea what happened to Draven and the soldier.” Cal squeezed their hands on the edge of the table where the crew of the Sanders Yersinia was watching them with full attention, utterly engrossed in Cal’s story.

   “I told Talyn like the dramatic motherfucker I am I was going to kill Draven, or at least overthrow him so he couldn’t destroy any more lives.” Some of the audience members cheered, shaking their fists in the air. “That dickbag needs to be taught what happens when you bite one too many. ‘Cause, bitch, I. bite. back.” A raucous cheer went up from the crowd. “So who wants to know what happened after?” All but a few patrons raised their hands eagerly, ready to devour more of Cal’s fierce words.

  “I got Talyn to drop me off on Aeolos and I headed to the Infernal Havens. Y’all don’t need to know the details, but let’s say I did what I had to do to survive.” Several patrons nodded, coming from similar histories. “Sucks fucking dick, living on the streets, but, hey, it made me who I am today.” Cal hopped off the table once more. “At least I can say that if you piss me off, you’re going to say hello to my combat boots. They like meeting new people,” they joked bitterly, still on edge on from the narrative known as their life. “A couple years ago, I started noticing wanted posters for me. Damn Calypso, the prices on my head! I half-want to turn myself in, if only to get a piece of the reward money. Course, then I won’t get to Draven’s ass, so that’s out of the question, ha.” Anxiety laughed along with Cal, snorting at their dry humor.

   “People started recognizing me from the posters, so I got the fuck out of Aeolos. Stole a ship and wandered about for a bit, nicking what I could. I stumbled upon this little gem of a pub soon enough, met Remy, and so began my career as an outlaw.” Cal bowed theatrically as the crowd burst into applause as though they had witnessed the best show of their lives. Cal collapsed in their seat at the booth.

   “So, that’s about it,” Cal said simply, swiping Anxiety’s long-forgotten drink and downing it with a smirk. The group stared at them, still trying to process half of the story they’d listened to. Cal raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Don’t everybody talk at once,” they mumbled.

   “That’s… wow. And I thought I had an angsty backstory,” Anxiety said. “I was wrong.” Cal shrugged. “I would offer sympathy, but seeing as I have no soul…”

   “Eh, it’s fine, I don’t have one either. ‘Sides, I hate sympathy. Got enough of it to last me a lifetime from the Headmx back at the orphanage. I’m sick of hearing ‘I’m sorry’ by now,” Cal stated, handing Joan the bartender a couple gold coins to pay for their drinks with a friendly, fanged grin.

   Their eyes turned thoughtful. “I do miss Talyn, but it’s best that I’m gone from their life. I was putting them in danger. I hope they’re doing well…” they mused wistfully, sighing. “I really wish I could see Cassandra again. Just, you know, see her smile and her eyes and her everything, and be able to tell her how fucking much I loved her.” Cal paused, swirling an unused straw in the empty shot glass mournfully. “I promised her the night before she died that I would stand up and fight next time I was in danger. But when push came to shove, I was a fucking coward,” Cal scoffed ruefully.

   “I’ve tried to sneak into Draven’s palace a couple times, but I’ve never been able to… y’know, do it.” Cal emphasized the unspoken action by drawing a line across their throat. I don’t want to fall to his level, killing just for the fuckin’ sake of something. I couldn’t do that to Cassie, or her mother, or Talyn, or anybody else who didn’t manage to slip out of Draven’s cold-hearted grasp.” They sighed, resting their head on the table.

   “It’s probably just the alcohol talking by now,” Roman began, “but I think we should overthrow Draven.” Logan opened his mouth to start arguing against a certain doom, but Roman cut him off. “Think about it. He’s absolutely horrid, he doesn’t deserve to be king, he’s murdered dozens, if not hundreds, of innocent people, he’s ruined all of our lives, and... other stuff,” Roman rattled off, ticking a finger for each point against the deceitful ruler.

   “We know the palace like the back of our hands,” Patton chimed in, his face flushed with alcoholic excitement. “And Anxiety and Logan, you can plan the stuff, since you’re really good at that!” Cal nodded eagerly, adrenaline lethargically picking up pace as it coursed through their veins.

   “Any endeavors will surely end in destruction and countless deaths,” Logan countered. “We would verily lose our lives and put innocent civilians in danger.” Cal snorted.

   “As if Draven wasn’t already doing that. Besides, who cares if I die? No-one will mourn me if I fall victim to a corrupt regime playing with everybody like they’re puppets on a string. At least I’ll die for a cause. At least I’ll die knowing I did something, instead of letting somebody else step up for me. We don’t even know if there’ll be somebody else to do the job for us. If we don’t step up now, who will? Who else has fury for blood, has vengeance for a heart, has justice for a brain?” Cal swallowed thickly, flames burning in their eyes.

   “I promised Cassie. I promised her I would fight. Well, guess what? This is me fighting. This is me standing up for what I know is right. This is me fulfilling my promise. I met you guys only a few weeks ago. You don’t have to come. But I’m going no matter what. I’m done hiding in the dark, waiting for somebody else to be the light. This time, I’ll burn so fucking bright, they’ll mistake me for the sun!” Cal slammed their hands on the table fervently, lunging to their feet.

   Logan blinked, dumbfounded at Cal’s sudden impassioned speech as the others looked at them, determination written across their faces. “Well, you’ve convinced me,” Patton said, joining Cal on his feet. Roman stood silently, a grim expression on his face.

   “I sat through an entire war just watching people die, watching brothers cradle their dead sisters, watching doctors breaking down after failing to save another civilian, watching buildings crumble after suicide bombers pulled the trigger. It’s been far too long since I’ve stood on my own two legs and walked into battle,” Anxiety said, grinning lopsidedly. “Let’s bring down this motherfucker.”

   Cal turned towards the robot, who had yet to say a word. They reached out a solemn hand, willing Logan to take it. “Come on, Logan. You know we can’t do it without you,” they begged. The robot closed his eyes, sighing.

   “You’re not going to be convinced any other way, are you?” he asked. Cal shook their head vehemently, urging the AI to realize how much he was needed. Logan sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Fine,” he muttered. Though he seemed reluctant to take part in what could very well be the last adventure of his lifetime, Cal could detect that slightest hint of enthusiasm in the robot’s tone, elated to be wanted and needed for more than just defining large words.

   “Then it’s settled,” Cal said.

   “Before we try to spur any revolts among the people, perhaps we should acquire a weapon of mine,” Roman suggested. Cal motioned for the prince to continue. “It’s called the Halo Sword. I’ve defeated many a foul beast with it. I believe it could be of some use to have it when we cross the point of no return.” The prince grew quiet. “We’ll have to go home…” he mumbled. Patton gasped softly, knowing what it meant. Before Cal to analyze the reactions, though, Roman put on his charming façade once more, a brilliant smile crossing his lips.

   “Don’t worry, my dear friends. We shall vanquish the vile villain ruling over the galaxies together!” Cal cheered, pumping their fist into the air. “Alright, let’s get drunk now!” This time, Anxiety and Patton joined Cal and Roman in their cheers.

   “Let’s get fucking wasted!” Cal cried.

   “I’m quite sure you already are,” Logan muttered under his breath. Cal shot him a glare and proceeded to heckle Joan the bartender until they arrived with a new round of drinks. “Bottoms up!”

   The sun rode across the sky in its chariot of fire, witness to the declaration the group had made, waiting to see if they would follow through or fall through, studying the lights that flickered across each of their faces. As the moon climbed onto the horizon, waving goodbye to the flaming star, it, too, observed the now inebriated companions. Come next morning, they would leave for Roman and Patton’s home. They would begin the destiny written out in the stars, unable to retrace their steps once they set foot on the ground. They would endure heartache, elation, fury, and terror. But none of that came now.

   For now, the moon and sun, the silver-lined skies, the heavens, they all waited for the Pirate to make their move. For now, they listened as the Pirate sang out a love song in a foreign language, clutching their heart dramatically. For now, all that could be said for certain was this: from now on, they wouldn’t back down the fight.

(I have to admit, I had some of the most fun in my writing life while writing down Cal’s speech at the end.)

Anywho, I hope you all enjoyed this installment of the story I’m now calling Starbound because it’s a lot less to type and it sounds so much cooler. Feel free to send me an ask about the story or my version of the characters!

TAG LISTA (let me know if you want to be added/removed and I’ll be happy to do so!):

@asofterfan

@alix-the-skeleton

@hufflepuffsscrewdriver

@v-blue-writer

@sanderssidesstuff

[avengersassemble-fics]

You Again (Bruce Wayne x Reader)

Previous Chapter

Link to Master Post

Word Count (3,972)

AN: I think y’all waited long enough hah sorry fuck I'm awful at short fics

WARNING: um there mayyyyy be a sex scene so if you’re not into that sorry. also i haven’t written a sex scene in a long time so don’t laugh. if you want to skip that then look for the break.

It had made the Metropolis nightly news that Superman was actually alive, and you already knew what the headlines were going to say when he had set you down on the street. When he had caught you, his arms wrapped protectively around your bare back and under your legs, and you could see it now - “Superman saves Gotham City woman from the Joker”. Not only did you feel guilty from making Clark come out of hiding, but Bruce?

Bruce was going to be furious with you.

As Clark, or Superman, landed to the ground, he slowly released you from his grasp, your feet gently touching the ground as your hands rested against his emblemed chest. A crowd began to gather around, chattering about what they had just seen, and you whispered breathlessly, “Thank you.”

Clark nodded, and you both glanced up towards the roar of a helicopter. It had appeared almost out of thin air, and you glared to get a closer look at the body hanging from the rail. When you realized it was the Joker, you closed your eyes and shook your head. You could feel Bruce’s eyes glaring down at you, and Clark mumbled, “He’s mad.”

“I already know.”

You took a step back, and there was a knowing nod to you both, and just as people began to move forward out of excitement and confusion, Clark was off, faster than a speeding bullet. Your hair whipped behind you as he disappeared into the sky, and people around you began to question you.

“Are you alright?”

“What happened?”

“Were you at that gala the Mayor was hosting?”

“Is Mayor Dent okay?”

Another life lesson you learned while dating the most eligible man in Gotham was that if you were being bombarded with questions and a crowd was beginning to swarm, it was to play stupid. You put on a worried face, and touched your forehead lightly, “I just..” you managed, some people gasping, “I need to get home- please.”

Multiple oh’s mumbled throughout the crowd as people moved out your way to reveal cars lined against the road. One woman helped you walk to a cab another stranger had waived down, and opened the door for you to slowly lean yourself in. Even when the door closed you still mumbled an address to the driver. It was a couple blocks from the warehouse, and for the driver you kept your eyes closed, and clutched the flash drive in your hand.

You had one leg pulled up to your chest as you waited for the Bat Computer to finish decrypting the flash drive you had taken from Harvey Dent’s computer. Of course, as you predicted, he had protection after protection to help conceal whatever it was he was hiding. Thankfully, with Barry’s help, you both had managed to break through the final firewall. Bruce had yet to return, but you still knew the wrath he was going to throw your way when he did walk through that door.

Clark sighed as he sat down on one of the plush couches, causing you to turn slightly in the computer chair and looked his way, “I’m sorry again.”

“It was going to happen either way,” he said, and cast a glance over his shoulder, “so don’t worry about it.”

You smiled, finally relaxed around your old companion, and soon Barry was at your side and plopping down in the other computer chair. His “favorite” as he called it. He took a sip of whatever he had in his mug and you rested your head against your hand, your fingers locking in your hair.

50% complete.

“It’s not going to go any faster with you both watching it,” Clark commented, and you sighed.

“I’m anxious. I just know he’s hiding something..” you trailed off, and as the bar slowly began to crawl across the screen, you felt your eyes slowly shut closed.

Barry didn’t notice until an hour later, when there were audible heavy steps headed towards the door, and he zipped across the room. The sudden gust of air made your hair fly from your face, and then the slamming of the door open made your tired and heavy eyes peel open. Barry was standing against the furthest wall, and Clark simply flipped through his book. The eerie silence filled the room, and you glanced back at the progress bar.

84% complete. And Bruce was finally back.

“Everyone out, now,” he said in a low husky voice. Clark’s eyes shot in his direction, and the anger that was written on his face made him stand. He was in no mood to hear the impending argument that was about to happen, but even when he ushered Barry out of the room, he glanced your way. You hadn’t moved and he shook his head. 

Bruce closed the door behind him, his eyes locked on the back of the chair you were in. You only blinked as you heard his footsteps get closer, and stared at the bar. You were too tired to argue.

“We need to talk,” Bruce growled.

“No, we don’t,” you replied back, an icy tone in your voice. You were surprised to not hear another snarky remark, but when you were suddenly spun around, you planted your legs down on the ground. Bruce towered over you, one hand resting on the arm of the chair and his other at the top. Needless to say, he had you cornered in.

“What the fuck was that? He’s your friend, (Y/N)!” Bruce stated and you lowered your eyes.

“He’s your friend, Bruce, and he’s hiding something!” you countered and Bruce sighed in frustration. He removed his hands from the chair and moved away, shaking his head.

“You can’t just go into people’s files because you think they’re hiding something.”

You gaped at him, and stood, “Are you serious, Bruce? That’s what you specialize in!”

“We aren’t talking about me, we’re talking about you!” he screamed, and it made you stop for a moment. His chest was heaving, his eyes were darker than normal, and you suddenly felt yourself stop to really think about this.

But instead, you listened to your gut.

“You’re a genius, Bruce, how can you not see how much he’s changed?” you walked closer to him, “Stop being so fucking naive.. Please just trust me-”

“This isn’t about trusting you,” he mumbled. You felt yourself snap.

“Then what is this about, Bruce!”

“I could’ve fucking lost you!” he exclaimed. Your eyes widened a bit, and in turn Bruce looked away. You watched as he shut his eyes, and took some shallow breaths. He was trying to calm himself down, but instead he just shook his head, and said again, “I could’ve lost you, damn it.”

You didn’t know what to say, you closed your slightly gaping mouth and tried to gather your thoughts. Instinctively, you reached out to touch his arm, and you stepped just a bit closer. Bruce’s eyes went to your hand, which was softly touching his skin and he slowly met your eyes. With a soft smile, you gently rubbed his arm.

“You’re not going to lose me, Bruce.”

There was a shift in his eyes, one you recognized almost immediately, and you felt a knot form in your lower stomach. Bruce took a step closer to you, his dark brown eyes almost black as his eagerness began to take over. When you didn’t back away, when you didn’t move a single muscle, both of your hot breaths mixed with one another. Your hand fell from his arm, but slowly his hand moved to your face. His warm, slightly calloused fingers lightly traced your jaw, and his eyes darted between your eyes and your lips.

“Bruce,” you managed to whisper, and his eyes finally locked with yours. A wave of nostalgia washed over you as you remembered the last time you had been this close to see or feel him, and he took your needing whisper as his sign.

Slowly, his soft lips pushed against yours. Your eyes fluttered shut as his hand grasped your face, and all your angry thoughts seemed to just slip from your mind. Bruce was gentle with his motions, his free hand snaking around your waist to grip your ass firmly and pull you closer to his body. Your chest was heaving as he pulled you to him, and you knew exactly what you wanted; in a swift motion your arms were around his neck, and you deepend the kiss.

Bruce growled lowly, making a smile appear on your lips. His second hand retreated to your ass and almost like you weighed nothing, you were hoisted into the air. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist and your fingers locked into his slightly longer dark hair.

As he carried you to your room and kicked the door ajar, his lips began to move down to your neck. You tilted your head back as a quiet moan escaped your lips and the sound made Bruce slam the door shut with his foot. You could hear the pictures rattle against the wall and when your body was pressed against the wall, your breath escaped your lungs. Bruce’s hands lifted your shirt over your head and it was discarded somewhere on the floor.

His lips were detached from you for only a couple moments, and he brushed your hair from your shoulder, muttering under his breath, “You’re so beautiful,” as his hands trailed up your arms. Briefly, his eyes locked with yours as his fingers started to slide to your back to unhook your bra. His cold fingers made a slight shiver run through you, but it was soon out of your mind as his lips returned to your neck and you felt him pop open your hooks in one swift move. You eagerly shimmied the straps off and the bra fell to the floor, gathering in a pool around his feet. Anxiously, you pulled his buttoned shirt open - causing a few buttons to fly off, another growl escaped him as you made him stop kissing your warm skin, and you whimpered.

“That was my favorite shirt.”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” you said out of breath. Bruce smirked and you could feel him pressing into your hot core already.

“Bruce-�� you managed lowly again, your voice raspy as your stomach twisted in another knot. You wanted him, in every way, right now.

A smirk fell on his lips as he held your back with one hand and the other holding you up, and moved you to the bed. He unhooked your legs from his torso and settled you onto the floor, and began to trail kisses down your body.

You wanted to squirm, because you knew exactly what he was doing, but you resisted your temptation to grab him by his hair again. His kisses trailed from your neck to your chest, his hand cupping one of your breasts as his lips moved to the other. Your could feel yourself wanting to curl your toes, but instead you closed your eyes and a low, quiet moan escaped your mouth. Bruce gingerly nibbled at your nipple, his other thumb rubbed the other as a mix of rough and softness.

You were ready to uncurl into him, he just knew how to drive your crazy.

Bruce wasn’t one to waste time (normally) but in instances like this, he just loved to drag every little thing out. His lips left your skin, but his hands continued down to your shorts, and he pulled them down to your ankles and you lifted your feet and kicked them away. Finally, there was some progress. Bruce stood back up, his body towering over you and there was a small smile on his face. He backed you up until your legs hit the bed, and you eased yourself back into the soft fabric and onto your elbows.

You both watched one another. You watched Bruce pull his belt open and then unbutton his pants, and when he pulled everything off you bit your lip when his hard member sprung free. it was the reaction he was hoping for; desire, hunger, amazement. He crawled onto of you, and you were surprised at how nice it was to feel his weight on your body, or feel him pressed between your legs. His lips met yours again, and in between the heavy breathing, you started to squirm.

“God I missed feeling you squirm under me.” he mumbled, causing you to smile against him. You almost hadn’t noticed his fingers sliding under the fabric of your panties, but as soon as his fingers rubbed against your sex you threw your head back.

Bruce watched as your eyes fluttered shut, as he slowly pushed two fingers into you. Your breathing began to pick up, and Bruce grinned, pushing his fingers into your most sensitive spot. You couldn’t help but arching your body into him, and mumbling “Fuck.”

He kissed your chin for a second, and you whimpered, “Please, Bruce-”

You didn’t have to beg anymore, in a swift movement he pulled his fingers out of you and nearly ripped your panties off. You already knew they were probably ruined. You weren’t concerned, not with feeling him so close, feeling you were so close.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, “I’ll buy you some new ones.”

You wanted to laugh, but you shook your head and met his eyes, “I need you..”

Bruce didn’t hesitate. One one quick move he was filling you, and you closed your eyes quickly. Bruce held you to him, letting you adjust to him. It had been so long, and you could feel your walls throbbing against him. The stinging feeling left in a few second and he kissed your head tenderly, “You okay?”

You couldn’t speak, and just nodded instead. He laid you back onto the bed, and held your arms above your head, and slowly pulled himself out, and began a slow and steady pumping motion. You moaned quietly, feeling yourself relax into the sheets, and Bruce grunted, knowing he wasn’t going to last long with how tight you were.

You were always so amazing to watch while you two made love. How you unfolded beneath him, how your lips parted when you moaned, just everything. This time seemed different. He could already feel himself wanting to lose himself, and you bucked your hips as he fucked you. He grunted, and lowered his body into you, and you felt like you were tightening around him.

“Fuck (Y/N),” he trailed off, and you couldn’t even warn him. You felt as if you just exploded, your body unraveling with him. You hadn’t noticed how close he was until another grunt escaped his lips and his pacing slowed. You felt warm, and he pulled himself out of you and laid down beside you. You both laid there, exposed and silent for a few minutes. Your breathing was heavy, and you didn’t want to be the first to say anything.

Bruce was never one who used his words effectively, so when he stood and walked towards the bathroom, you felt yourself deflate a little. It was just a casual, angry, fuck session. You should’ve remembered that. You weren’t sure what he was doing, but he had grabbed his clothes on the way in. You stood, your body aching slightly, and went to grab a large shirt and just threw it onto your body. You crawled back into your bed and under the blanket, and as you laid your head against the soft and fluffy pillow, the bathroom door opened. You didn’t glance back to Bruce and instead kept your eyes closed.

When the bed dipped and the blanket was pulled open, you finally looked up to see Bruce sliding into bed next to you. He read the look on your face (confusion, of course) and raised a brow, “You alright?”

You rested yourself on an elbow, and nodded, “Yeah.. I just thought.. You’d..”

“Leave?” he asked. You couldn’t help but nod and shrug lightly and he chuckled. He settled down and had his arm out, inviting you to cuddle with him. Your eyes darted between his face and his open arm, and you had to make a choice.

For once in months you slept soundly, pressed against Bruce Wayne’s body as his hands rested against your back.

The next morning when you woke up, you were rested against the still warm spot Bruce was sleeping in. You pushed yourself up and yawned, eyeing the letter he had left. You picked it up and glanced around, leave it to Bruce Wayne to have paper for a post sex night note with him. You smiled to yourself and ran a hand through your hair as you read the message he left for you. 

(Y/N),

I promise this wasn’t me running out on you, just got called in early. I was thinking we could do dinner tonight, and.. Talk.

Bruce

You set the note down and slid out of bed, rolling a kink out of your neck. You quickly pulled some spandex shorts on and made your way to the main room. No one was there and it was eerily quiet. You ignored it and instead began to make yourself the best drink in the world - coffee.

Memories of last night flooded in as you poured yourself a glass, and when you set the coffee pot down your head snapped up and behind you to the Bat Computer. You rushed over and sat yourself down, having to hold yourself to the console so you wouldn’t roll away. As you typed the password in, the screen flashed with tow of your favorite words.

100% complete.

You felt your hand shaking as you clicked on the know watchable and readable files. There was a clip of Arkham Asylum, dated just recently from the Joker’s “prison break”. You hovered over it for a second, remembering Bruce’s words to you. About trust and friendship, and you glanced down for a moment. You never had to battle with your morals over right and wrong, and you weren’t about to start.

You clicked on the video and security footage.

There were a few Arkham associates walking down the hallway, stopping at doors and peering into the holdings. A few seconds later, Mayor Dent walks into view with someone you don’t recognize. They’re alone, walking further towards the largest holding cell and they stop, talking intensely. You squinted at Harvey’s hands, noticing something in between his palm and his thumb.

His thumb moved slightly, and soon the recording went out. The screen was static for two whole minutes - long enough for someone to notice a tamper if they weren’t completely dim. Suddenly the video came back as clear as day, and there was Harvey, slumped down of the floor with officials running to help him. You were almost too busy to notice every single cell was open. Every cell empty. Just as the video footage was about to end, Commissioner Gordon and an officer entered the picture.

You slumped back into the chair, trying to figure out what exactly you had just seen. You rubbed your face and decided to pull up some articles about what exactly happened, according to news outlets.

You checked with Gotham Globe first, and read through Vicki Vale’s piece on the matter. It was exactly what you thought, it only talked about The Joker’s escape, how “all others” were secure, and that the main suspect was his femme fatale, Harley Quinn.

You shook your head, and jumped when a hand touched your shoulder.

You spun around to see Clark, removing his hand and looking startled, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You sighed and relaxed a bit, glancing back at the screen, “Not it’s fine.. I was just lost in my own thoughts.

Clark nodded, and walked around you to sit in the other chair next to you, “What did you find?”

You shook your head and leaned against the console, “Harvey Dent and some other man were behind the Arkham Asylum break.. But look at this,” you went back to the footage and paused to where you could see every cell door open.

“Clark.. They’re all gone.”

He stared at the screen, his eyebrows furrowed as he was lost in thought. He suddenly moved forward pointing at another clip you missed, “What’s this one?”

You followed his gaze and raised a brow. This one was from last night, after the whole gala fiasco. You slowly pressed on the clip and it was Harvey’s office, and he was pacing the room.

“It was totally uncalled for! For fuck’s sake, now Batman and Superman are involved?! He threw a woman out the window!”

You couldn’t hear what was being said on the other side of the phone, but Harvey slammed his fist down on his desk. 

“All I promised was to get you you’re... Villains to help clean up the Meta Humans. That’s it! No more.”

You had never seen Harvey like this, the way his jaw locked, how he was speaking.. You shuddered a bit. He quickly scribbled something down and you edged forward.

“The abandoned LexCorp warehouse?” he grumbled for a moment, “Fine. Nine o’clock. Don’t be late.”

You stood abruptly, and started back to your room. Clark was quick to follow and stopped at the door frame, “(Y/N), please think about this-”

“I have thought about it, I’m going to see Alfred.”

You were grabbing clothes, and turned to go into the bathroom and shut the door. Clark shifted his weight between his two feet, and glanced around your room. You may not have been here long, but somehow you made it your own little space. He walked to the desk you had and picked up the frame that was resting there. This particular one he recognized. High school graduation. You were on his back, the wind blowing your hair back as you both smiled for the camera. He had the exact same photo packed away with the rest of the memories you both shared.

For some reason, guilt washed over him.

You opened the bathroom door and walked in, and Clark set the photo back down. You stared at him, but walked over to your shoes and slid them on, tying your hair up in the process.

“Where’s Diana and Barry?”

“They’re with Bruce, they’re bringing someone in. A cyborg, I believe.”

You nodded and walked towards the door, and Clark quickly caught up with you and grabbed your arm, “I think this may be too dangerous.”

“Someone has to figure out what Harvey is mixed up in, Clark.. We can’t wait around and let more people die.”

Clark released your arm and you were surprised. You backed up the stairs and were headed to the door. The heavy metal door slammed shut and for a few moments, Clark stood there in thought. You were absolutely right, they couldn’t wait around anymore. And he knew if he let you go alone, Bruce would be even angrier than he was last night. And he doesn’t want to sit up listening to you two fuck around again.

With a sharp inhale, Clark grabbed his jacket and hurried out the hideout to catch up with you

TAG LIST - message me to be added!

@panic-angel3314 @dutifullyfuriousnerd @mrsemmaevans @fourtristattoos @offlikeadirty-shirt @barrel-racing-lover @sexyvixen7 @bless-my-demons @sarcastic-ohohoh @whovianayesha @neohhteric @my-dccomic-dreams @hellomistressj @avengersgirllorianna @spunky-89 @dammitkyloben @topthis808 @theboldandthebootyful 

[hamlet-writes]

Epistemophobia- Pt. 1

Sometimes, the best discoveries happen completely on accident.

Three gunshots rang through the heavily perfumed air, and socialites shrieked and swore as Jonathan and his hired grunts strode calmly through the front door.  Women clutched pearls to their chests with an aghast gasp and scrambled out of the way, leaving a clear path leading directly underneath the huge yellow diamond chandelier hanging over the gala like a spider in its web.

Why do they still hold these things? Jonathan thought. They always get robbed.  He stopped just before the chandelier, holding up a hand to signal his henches to do the same.  

"Evenin' ladies and gentlemen," Jonathan said, adjusting his mask.  The whole room fell silent, all eyes fixed fearfully on him.  Excellent.

"Lovely time you're havin' here, isn't it?  No expense spared, I see.  Even had this specially made and shipped in, didn't you?" Jonathan continued, gesturing towards the chandelier. "From...Italy, I believe?"  One of the partygoers stepped forward, raising his hands in the air as Jonathan's henches trained their weapons on him.  Jonathan smirked when he saw who it was- the host himself, Bruce Wayne.

"Please, gentlemen," Wayne said, hazarding another step forward. "There's no need for violence.  We'll give you whatever it is you want."

"Oh, I'm certain you will, Mr. Wayne," Jonathan said, slipping his hand into his pocket and pulling out the trigger mechanism.  After a moment's hesitation he added, "You may want to take a step back."  With a brief glance behind him to make sure all his henches were wearing their gas masks Jonathan pressed the trigger.  The nanoexplosive planted on the chain of the chandelier blew, and Wayne dove back into the crowd as it crashed to the floor.

The discovery of frozen fear toxin, like many other great discoveries, had happened purely by accident.  In an intellectual discussion with Freeze gone wrong Jonathan had made the mistake of mentioning Nora.  Victor had attacked, Jonathan had retaliated, and the frozen fear toxin had shattered on the floor and been released just as it was now.  Gotham's richest and most influential screamed as fear gas billowed through the room, trying to no avail to escape their own personal nightmares.  Jonathan allowed himself to grin underneath his mask, observing the chaos for a moment before turning to his henches.  

"Grab anything of value and load it in the van," he said. "Quickly."  They nodded, fanning out through the crowd and relieving the now-incoherent partygoers of their possessions.  He turned his attention back to the crowd.

"Bruce Wayne," he mused, stepping over the twisted remains of the chandelier and kneeling in front of Wayne, who stared ahead in muted terror.  Jonathan grabbed him by the face, studying him carefully.

"What could a spoiled little brat like you possibly be afraid of?" he wondered aloud.  Wayne murmured in his delirium, fixated on something (or someone) that wasn't there.  Jonathan leaned forward so that his ear was at Wayne's lips, listening intently to his words.

"Father...no, I'm- I couldn't- Mom..." he whispered.

"Yes, always the parents, isn't it," Jonathan noted, his lips twitching upwards in the ghost of a smile.

"No...Harvey!  You don't- Barbara!  Jason!  Jason!"

Jonathan's smile died as the realization dawned on him.  He'd heard these words all before, but someone else has been saying them.

Or else he hadn't.

"Jesus christ on a cross," Jonathan breathed, releasing Wayne and leaning back.  Hardly daring to believe it he raised one hand in the air, covering the top half of Wayne's face.  The resemblance was unmistakable.  Jonathan stood, thankful his henches couldn't see his shocked expression beneath his mask.  He gestured for the one nearest him to approach, and she did so apprehensively.

"What is it, boss?" she asked, pulling her gas mask farther up onto her face.

"Take Mr. Wayne here and load him into the back of the van with the rest of the valuables," Jonathan ordered. "And make doubly sure he's unconscious once you do."

"Not to pry, but why, sir?" she asked, grabbing Wayne by the arm and forcing him to his feet. "What do you think he's capable of?"

"Infinitely more than I realized just a moment ago," Jonathan said.  He watched numbly as the woman half lead, half dragged Wayne away, lost in thought. It seemed the greatest discoveries really did happen by accident.  He would have to remember to thank Victor. - Bruce groaned as he slowly regained consciousness, squeezing his eyes shut against what he was sure were going to be the blinding white lights of a hospital.  He couldn't remember what he'd been doing last.  Had he fallen off a building again?  Was that why his head was throbbing with steady pulses of pain?

"Evenin', Batman," a mild voice greeted him.  

Crane.

Bruce forced his eyes open, taking in his surroundings.  Crane had his back  to him, still dressed in his full Scarecrow getup, save his mask.  He was bent over a long mahogany desk, covered in loose papers and notebooks no doubt filled to the brim with his "research."  The only light came from the sickly yellow glow of the beakers of fear toxin lining the shelf on the far wall, dimly illuminating the ragged and dilapidated brick walls cramping him in on all sides.  He glanced down at the cracked and discolored concrete floor, covered in water and ill-removed blood stains.  The only exit was a rusty metal door in the farthest corner away from him.  Bruce tried to shift in his seat, and noted that extra precautions had been made to secure him.  His legs had been shackled and chained around the legs of the cold steel chair he was tied to (which was bolted to the floor), and Crane had somehow managed to put him in a full-body straitjacket, which he could've easily escaped from if it weren't for the chains wrapped five times around his torso.  He wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.  Bruce wondered numbly how Crane had managed to fit the straitjacket over his batsuit, then started as if he'd been struck as the realization dawned on him.

He wasn't wearing his mask.

"Or is it morning?" Crane continued, turning from his work to face him. "Well, I don't suppose you'd know, now would you?"

He'd called him Batman.  He knew.

"Starting to remember it now, are we?" Crane asked, a contemptuous smile forming on his face. "You really shouldn't hold so many parties, Mr. Wayne.  They'll be the death of you."  Bruce said nothing, setting his jaw resolutely and glaring ahead.  Crane chuckled, turning back to his desk and lifting a vial of some clear liquid in delicate fingers.  In one stride he'd crossed the distance between them, and Bruce couldn't help but notice just how much he towered over him.

"This should ease the headache," Crane said, holding it out as if offering it to him.

"How can I trust you?" Bruce managed to croak out.  His throat was dry and cracked- an after effect of fear gas he'd come to expect.

"If I were tryin' to poison you right now, would I really have to trick you to do it?" Crane asked. "No," Bruce admitted.  Without another word Crane tilted his chin up with one hand, pressing the vial to his lips and pouring it down his throat.  Bruce winced as the bitter taste hit his tongue, pulling a face that would've sent Dick into hysterics, because Crane actually let out an audible laugh.  He half-expected the hallucinations to start anew but, sure enough, the pulsing agony in his head dulled to a distant migraine.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"Me?" Crane asked, pulling up the wooden chair that had been tucked beneath his desk and sitting on it backwards, straddling the seat and resting his arms on the back as he leaned towards Bruce. "Why, I just want to talk, Bruce."  That rag-doll pose made Bruce uneasy- it reminded him much more of Scarecrow than Crane.  If he had to be chained and taken hostage in a tiny room by one of them, he would much rather Crane be in control.

"Fine, let's...talk," Bruce said guardedly.

"Y'know," Crane said with a bewildered laugh. "This was just supposed to be a cash grab.  In and out before the GCPD or the Bat- well, before you could get there."

"Oh really?" Bruce said.  Crane might not have been the most boisterous out of the rogues gallery, but old habits died hard- he liked to lecture.  If Bruce could just keep him talking for as long as possible, he might be able to get out of here.

"Oh yes," Crane continued. "They say some of the greatest discoveries happen completely by accident, and that's exactly what this was.  Someone more...superstitious, might call it an act of God, but I'm inclined to believe this is just an incredible stroke of luck.  Well, on my behalf, that is."  Crane leaned forward, studying Bruce with a look of mock sympathy that made his skin crawl.

"It all makes perfect sense now, though, doesn't it?" Crane said. "Such a tragedy, to lose one's parents at such a young age.  You musta been angry.  Alone.  Terrified."

"If you think you're gonna get me to talk about that, you're even more delusional than I thought," Bruce said, glaring.  Crane chuckled.

"Oh, you will, Bruce," he said, folding his hands together. "All in due time."  Bruce clenched his jaw, glaring wordlessly ahead.

"I will admit, this is quite the clever disguise you've crafted for yourself," Crane said. "The cowl?" Bruce asked.   "The co- don't be absurd, Bruce," Crane scoffed. "You and I both know I'm talkin' 'bout your public persona." He leaned back in his chair, raising one hand as if outlining one of Gotham's dazzling bulletins.

"Bruce Wayne- carefree billionaire playboy," he announced with a derisive laugh. "And I fell for it, along with the rest of Gotham City.

"That's not the only one, either," Crane continued. "What was that other one...oh, that's right!  'Do the butts match?'  Did you start that one?"

"...Oracle," Bruce admitted.  Crane chuckled.

"Ah yes, Oracle," he mused. "I never could figure out what made her tick...that's the benefit of hiding behind a computer screen, I suppose."  Crane straightened his back, gripping the back of his chair in claw-like hands and studying Bruce with a predatory intensity.  

"But we know what makes you tick, don't we, Bruce?" he asked, smirking. "Just you and I."

"We're nothing alike," Bruce growled.  Crane sighed deeply, rising from his chair and turning to root around in one of the long, narrow drawers of his desk. "You're right, we're not," he said. "I know now the only way to overcome fear is to face it head-on.  You run from it every night, hide behind your fancy little toys, paint yourself a martyr just to hide the fact that you're terrified."  He turned back to Bruce, some sort of device made of coiled wire and electrodes dangling from his hand.

"I suppose I could hold you for ransom," Crane mused, bending over Bruce.  Cold fingers brushed the hair deliberately from his forehead as Crane set to work securing the two electrodes to Bruce's temples.

"What are you doing?" Bruce asked, dreading the answer.  Nothing good, that was certain.

"These are psychoneurotic analysis and projection instruments," Crane explained, not looking away from his work. "A gift from Tetch.  They allow me to record your brain patterns and see what you see."  He stood, working the second device over his own forehead and producing a small remote from his pocket.  Bruce glared stoically forward as Crane turned, dipping an empty syringe into one of the beakers of fear toxin and carefully filling it to the amount he'd apparently calculated.  He turned back to Bruce, lifting his chin up with one delicate hand as the ghost of a smile twitched at his lips.  

"Let's get down to business, shall we?" he said.  Bruce stiffened as the needle found the vein in his neck, clenching every muscle in his body as the toxin slid like ice through his blood.  Immediately he felt his heart begin to race, pounding against the inside of his chest, and his vision swam with tendrils of winding pitch that wound steadily around his throat, slowly squeezing the air from his lungs.

"See you in your nightmares, Bruce," Crane whispered.  His satisfied smile grew wider and wider, until it was a gaping abyss, waiting to swallow him whole.  The floor crumbled beneath Bruce's feet, and he plunged into the depths.

[sairyn-noc]

Love Story

Part 5 of Second Chances

It’s supposed to be a love story; their story. Like the ones people read about and girls and women and hey, in all fairness probably a few men, swoon over. Person A meets person B and the stars collide, the earth moves and fate takes over. Happily ever after. But real life isn't fan fiction. It isn't wrapped in secret lusts and desires, beautifully hidden in coded print. Real life is messy and dare one say it, complicated.

Why can't it just follow the script? Mike huffs to himself, as these thoughts circle inside his brain that is already moving a mile a minute in the early morning hour.

He moves slowly, aware of the man still sleeping soundly cuddled up next to him. He can't help the smile that spreads across his face when he feels the shift in the bed as the body moves closer to him, seeking warmth. Since when has Harvey become a cuddler? A decade apart has brought many changes it seems. But there's one thing Mike can't wrap his mind around- the question that has taken root in his brain and refused to let go. When did their roles reverse and what does it mean for them?

He manages to remove himself from the clutches of one Harvey Specter and pads to the kitchen, intent on making coffee. As the deep rich aroma of perfectly roasted beans fills the air, Mike can't help to think about how they got here. One call, one phone call changed his entire existence. Harvey had called out of the blue, his voice punching through the walls Mike had been living behind. And when he saw him, when he felt Harvey’s touch, his embrace, Mike could do nothing else but surrender. Just like he did the first time around.

From then it’s become a whirlwind of thoughts, emotions, like an explosion of color in a world existing in black and white. What's outside of Pleasantville? His brain asks. And now, now that he knows, he can’t seem to figure out if it's good or bad. The past and the present keep blending together in convoluted twists and turns. Over the last month and a half they have gone from renewing their friendship to what? Boyfriends? Dating? Friends with benefits? And truth be told he doesn't know which one he wants.

Falling in love with Harvey the first time was as easy as breathing. One minute they were friends and the next thing Mike knew he was in love. He fell for Harvey like a man falling into water, willing to drown for love. It had to be magic or fate. Nothing ever happens like that - nothing. People spend their entire lives looking for the type of love he and Harvey had shared and somehow Mike just sort of backed his way into it. It was perfect. Though while Mike breathed in “he” and breathed out “we”, Harvey kept his head above water.

Their years apart have changed them both, Mike is quickly discovering. His relationship with Rachel was different. Sure he had loved her, but it had been nothing like what he felt (feels?) for Harvey. And God had he wanted it to. How many nights in those first couple of years apart had Mike wished for a second chance. A do over. Anything to have Harvey back in his life. A fool's dream, he had labeled it. Because lightening just doesn't strike twice. So he had stayed; longer than he had ever thought he would, longer than he ever should have. But that's over, been over. And now? Now, Harvey and him are replaying their love story that at times feels awkward and wonderful and disorienting. Harvey is surrounding him with words, with touches, and with a love so deep, so hot, so encompassing, he sometimes finds himself unable to breathe. Harvey is all but begging him to drown all over again. But this time it's him who is wading carefully, keeping his head above water.

Coffee finished, he pours a cup and deposits himself at the table. Mike’s terrified. How many nights has he woken up with a cry as he relives the nightmare fading behind his slowly focusing eyes. It always ends the same way - Harvey’s bleeding heart in his hands; destroyed for a second time, because of him.

“Oh God, I can't do this,” he mutters, dropping his head into his hands.

“Do what?”

Mike looks behind him to see the man he loves staring down on him with a smile.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Harvey murmurs, kissing Mike’s neck.

Mike leans back into the arms that always make him feel so safe, so special. If only he could crawl into them and let go. Let go of his doubts, his fears. Instead he takes a deep breath. Harvey smells like a blend of spice and something woodsy mingled with sweat and sex. In other words, he smells like home.

“Did I wake you?” Mike asks guiltily.

“No. Well, yes. I lost my cuddle partner,” Harvey smirks.

“It's 8:30 am. You've gotten lazy in your old age.”

“Who are you calling old, Junior? Is there more or did you just make enough for you?” he asks, intoning at the mug in Mike’s grip.

“There's more,” Mike smiles.

Mike watches silently as Harvey pours himself a cup of coffee. He loves this man, he always has. It should be easy. Why can't it be easy?

“So are you going to tell me what's going on in that gorgeous brain of yours?” Harvey asks after taking a sip.

“Is it that obvious?”

“To me. Or did you forget in all our years apart that I know you?”

“Maybe I’ve changed,” Mike jokingly challenges.

“Of course you've changed. We both have. And I love all the ways you have grown and changed.”

Harvey kisses the top of Mike's head and sits across from him at the table.

“Spill.”

Mike hesitates. Secretly wondering if this is the place where it all ends.

Harvey reaches out, his fingers lightly skimming across his skin, bringing both joy and yes, sadness.

“Mike, whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“It’s us. I mean, what are we doing, Harvey?”

“We're enjoying each other's company. At least I am. Are you saying you aren't?”

“No,” Mike quickly answers. “I am.” Noticing Harvey's crestfallen look, he looks to reassure Harvey, taking his hand in his own.

“Harvey, I am so glad we have reconnected. You have no idea.”

He feels Harvey’s thumb brush over his wrist.

“It's just...”

“Tell me, Mike. It's okay, whatever it is.”

“Do you remember when I told you I wasn't ready for a serious relationship?”

He waits to see Harvey nod before he continues.

“I meant it. I’m not. I'm just now trying to figure out who I am again. Without Rachel, without anything.”

“And you think I am going to get in the way of that?” Harvey asks, his voice low and full of concern.

“I… I don't know.”

“Mike. I love you. There is nothing in this world that is going to change that.”

“I love you too, that's why…”

“Mike,” Harvey interrupts. “I want you to take this journey. I want you to become the man you want to be. I am just so glad to have you back in my life.”

“I want you in my life too. I don't ever want to lose you again. Ever,” Mike reiterates. “I also don't want to mislead or hurt you.”

“Do you love me?”

“You know I do.”

“Then it doesn't matter.”

“What do you mean it doesn't matter? Of course it matters.”

“Mike, I am not going anywhere - whether that means that we stay friends or more. Instead of you worrying about what this is or what it isn't, how about we just enjoy the moment until the next moment and then the next? We don't have to call it anything.”

“Harvey, but what if? What if we get to a moment and I am still scared, or worried, or hesitant?”

“Then we will deal with that too.”

Mike searches Harvey’s eyes, looking for some trace of doubt or concern. He doesn't find any.

“Look,” Harvey continues. “When we were together the first time I think we were both caught up in the magic fairytale.”

Mike gives Harvey a side glance, challenging the claim.

“Okay, so maybe more you than me,” he smiles.

“But that isn't real life. We grow, we learn, we reinvent ourselves. And if we are lucky, we find people along the way who want to tag along for the ride. So, Mike. Can I take this journey with you, beside you? And will you walk beside me as I take my own?”

Mike closes his eyes, feeling a sense of peace he hasn't felt for weeks. I love this man, he thinks silently. I will always love this man.

Slowly he gets up from the chair and climbs onto Harvey's lap, straddling him. His arms rise to circle around Harvey’s neck, while Harvey’s land softly on his hips. “Please,” he whispers.

Harvey’s lips find his. The kiss they share is slow, the perfect slotting of lips that know their way, have always known their way. Harvey’s hands reach beneath Mike’s thighs before getting up, lifting Mike in the process.

“And just what do you think you are doing, Mr Specter?” Mike breathes.

“Taking you back to bed,” Harvey purrs.

Maybe, just maybe, this is a love story after all, Mike thinks.

[myalinemoe]

Killer Cleaning or Who invented gravity...

Killer Cleaning or Who invented gravity…

AND why do they hate me! All of my life I seem to be a victim of gravity. I remember even at a young age that Gravity had it our for me. I tried to ride on the handle bars of a neighbors bike. Well, gravity had other ideas. I was trying to sit still but gravity took my little ankle and stuck it through the spokes of said bike!

Yep, just one more example of GRAVITY working against me. 

I know…

[emmetohboy]

Favorites ‘17

Listen: SZA: Cntrl Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit: Chaos and Clothes King Krule: The OOZ Joan Shelley: Joan Shelley Lilly Hiatt: Different, I Guess Kendrck Lamar: Damn JD McPherson: On the Lips Kehlani: Honey Faye Webster: She Won’t Go Away Kota the Friend: Lawn Chair Josh Ritter: Feels Like Lightning Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever: Julie’s Place Sabrina Claudio: Confidently Lost The Secret Sisters: He’s Fine

My parents didn’t play the radio much in our house when I was growing up. But my grandparents always had it on in there place. A little Realistic brand radio sat in the corner of the kitchen. From its single speaker the voice of Paul Harvey mixed with the songs of Tom T. Hall, Johnny Paycheck and Sammi Smith. This is the wrinkle of my youth into which country music crawled. In college, amidst all of the “alternative" or “progressive” music I devoured I intertwined a healthy dose of Johnny Cash, Patsy Cline and George Jones records. But to this day when asked the horrible question “What kind of music do you like?” I still answer. “Everything. Well everything but Country.”

In 2017 I wove a great deal of what other folks might call country into my listening. But I would venture to guess that none of the tracks, or maybe even the artist at all, found air play on whatever counts as country radio these days.

If Colter Wall wore a baseball hat he might find Country radio airplay. If he wore his T-shirts tight, pronounced “drink” and “drank” the same way and mocked people for “being green” he might be all over the CMA’s. Colter Wall is only 22 years old. The weathered gravel in his voice makes me believe that the water where he grew up in Swift Current, Saskatchewan runs flush with bourbon and smoke the way the water of my youth carried fluoride. "Motorcycle" is the song I sang along to the most this past year. 

“Chaos and Clothes” is the most irresistible track on the newest offering by Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit. And it contains my favorite lyric of 2017. I straight up pilfered “Let’s name all the monsters you killed” as the title for this year’s Autumn compilation.

When Lilly Hiatt opens “Different, I Guess” with the admission "I had a plan to make me look tough.” you just know things did not go as planned. And when she concludes with the same line it closes the song like the cover of a hardback book. I’ve always been a sucker for songs that use the same-line-as-opener-and-closer technique. But I of course had no way of initially knowing how it would end. What so endeared me the first time through was how this little self-defeated line nestled so easily into the rhythm and meter of the verse. And how, by the time she carries us into the chorus, she is straining with both emotion and meter to fit in all she has to say - “I just love you more than anyone I ever have, I guess.” I don’t envy the siblings or offspring of famous creative talent. They are usually greeted with and extra dose of skepticism. Often its warranted. But here the daughter John Hiatt is well on her way to independent credibility.

  Josh Ritter has made frequent appearances here on my lists. This year he returns with The Gathering. While not my favorite Ritter record (that would be The Historical Conquests of Josh Ritter) it is his best in a few years. And when Mrs. OhBoy and I saw him and his Royal City Band play their last U.S. date of the current tour they were phenomenal. On “Feels Like Lightening” Ritter leans right into some classic Johnny Cash/Luther Perkins guitar chugging for my favorite number on the record.

The Secret Sisters would not have raised an eyebrow had their lovely and sorrowful “He’s Fine” poured from the little radio in Nick and Vera’s kitchen all those years back. Their harmonies and storytelling call out from a bygone era and would have settled in seamlessly between ditties from Dolly and Tammy.

An artist who would have made either of my grandparents lunge to turn the dial on a radio is King Krule. But I’ve been enamored since first hearing his 6 Feet Beneath the Moon in 2013.Then his shtick might have been best described as part crooner part bar-fight antagonizer. Since then any listener has been able to hear is maturation as he released a more introspective record under is real name Archy Marshall in 2015 and this past year dropped The OOZ again under the King Rule moniker. The raw, angular guitars now carry a jazzier nuance and his “What you lookin’ at?” vocal delivery of “6 Feet…” now carries a “just hear me out.” authenticity. And the overall instrumental landscapes on The OOZ vary widely creating one of the years most diverse musical accomplishments.

Regarding musical accomplishments, in 2015 I pondered that Kedrick Lamar's “To Pimp a Butterfly” may be just as noteworthy of an accomplishment as an instrumental record. He returns with a much different and straight forward “Damn” this year. There’s a reason Vince Staples calls Kendrick the greatest living rapper. And much more qualified music writers have poured countless words onto his latest effort, in both its original format and the newest “Damn. Collectors Edition” wherein the track list flows in the reverse, and intended order from the original.

Choosing my favorite record of the year is proving to be a bit of a struggle. And I may just have to flip a coin on this one. With absolute certainty the record I listened to most this year, annoyed close friends with energetic adoration for, and searched three Chicago record stores to buy on vinyl for my niece Hallie this Christmas is SZA’s “Ctrl.” The record worked itself into my life the way most of my favorites do. I read acclaim for the effort and downloaded it into my listening rotation. At first I was underwhelmed and didn’t give it much thought. Then one by one, starting with “Supermodel” (notice the  here post from August) the tracks began resonating. Each track took its turn as my favorite and all have an honest narrative approach that sets the record apart from most anything in the genre. I’ve heard the notion that the album is dead. We live in a world of singles. And now the playlist has usurped the album. It may be true. I am as guilty as anyone of being a creature of the playlist. But when a collection of tracks likes “Cntrl” comes along it reinforces the unparalleled experience of one artist, in one work creating a complete musical experience. And it is worth a thousand playlists.

All of my fondness for SZA (Solana Imani Rowe) and her fabulous debut were only reinforced by her performances with solo musical accompaniment.  And by the fact that when she performed as musical guest on SNL, she didn’t rest on her success but rather re-imagined two of her hits and brought a live band and choir to perform them.

So its sounds pretty clear right? SZA. "Cntrl." But 2017 brought a record by a woman who has released three since 2014. And as much as SZA basks in all the freshness of Cntrl, it's well known how difficult it can be to follow up on a break out debut. I once heard an artist lament the pressure that comes after such success, "You have your entire life to make your first record. And one year to make the next.” Maybe the fact, that by no standards can Joan Shelley’s 2012 debut, “Ginko” be considered a success, allowed her to continue to grow into the artist who five years later released her best record. Maybe Joan herself also believes it to be her best record, the best reflection of herself as an artist, and that’s why she eponymously title this collection of eleven gorgeous tracks. I’ve included “The Push and Pull” on this playlist, but without exception I could have chosen any track on the record to prove my point. "Joan Shelley” was released in May of this year. I was immediately enthralled. But not in the way that makes you exclaim adoration to friends. Much more in a way that makes your wife look up from her reading on a Sunday morning and ask “What’s this?” And then twenty minutes later speak again “This is beautiful.”

Sitting here now, looking out the window into the snowy woods of Michigan and thinking about all that I have read and seen and heard this past year it is easy to understand how a quiet little record released back in May could have fallen off my radar. Thank you Nora O’Connor for just last week reminding me of all of the warmth and frailty and magic that is “Joan Shelley.”

Happy New Year.

I have to go flip a coin.

.

[cheapggdbonsales-blog]

Golden Goose Womens Outlet Online What a Single Man's trainers Say almost Him

The San Isidro neighborhood just n . of Miraflores is this particular other quality area of Lima even the most valuable hotels and as well international group offices end up being located. The is those more commercial twist regarding Miraflores'young character. Parque Shedd Olivar could a large olive woods park that can stretches a few region blocks, a good place which experts claim lovers and furthermore dog backpackers particularly similarly to in that evenings. Despite other Lima parks, over there are ever public liquids fountain services. Cadillac sneaker are which the perfect boots which might be available for very beautiful prices. Bentley shoes are often branded Golden Goose Superstar Women Sale ootwear types especially as for the men or women who require to see different together with the users. To get hold of an eye-popping shoe which is considerably more than getting a loan for a twosome of sneakers doesn't indicate that owners must rush for the exact one's operating in fashion on top of that not over those you have feel exceptionally confident and furthermore gives your business a valuable look. However buying footwear types always preserve in attention the that unique should forever choose element that is ordinarily not just trendy rather also comfortable, reliable mainly because well so as durable. Some sort of better start looking is a new one considering a high quality fit and / or a relaxing feel. Cadillac shoes current these prime feelings and as a consequence comforts. Players slip on a uniform that produced of pants and one specific jersey. Our uniform are usually drop fitting to allow by good steps. The jacket will display a large number on an front back. A certain leagues would likely also contain the last name at the . The consistence is built in the color otherwise colors involving the sports team. Another important part along with the regular is the particular pair of the sneakers which experts claim offer really ankle provide. The main goal concerning a football game is to record more goods then the opposing staff by manufacturing baskets. Each of our rules relating to how owners do this are pretty straightforward. Am Now i saying which usually the money guy should never set more a bedside at a good solid fitness rod? No, rather I am saying any he preferences to realize more Golden Goose Running Men Sale pproximately the buyers he could standing in front relating to and strategies to present them a specific product they want, when the problem comes to successfully financial program. he specifications to invite himself exam questions like, 'What is every single and every person exactly who walks at a Golden Goose Outlet Online ellbeing club daily concerned on?' Then he could take up to when common soil. 'Rheumatoid Joint disease!' I screamed. He maintained to find yourself kidding, inflammation of the joints was as old others. I has young, on top of that young. My husband and i just used a the Golden Goose Womens Outlet Online ittle one girl. At that point wasn't different way I really was stepping to buy this illness and get crippled but thrown of a motorized wheel chair. Who were going in the market to take due care of very own daughter when I didn't even anchor her, are great her, earth her? My favorite husband had not been going to want so that it will take are concerned of a brand new young broken until bereavement do a number of us part, he'd leave me. The thought crossed the actual mind exactly who I would most likely never creep again as well as a I out of cash inside. Disrupting wild images surged within in my head due to I touched a ferocious diagnosis, plus I considered traumatized besides belief. Kirk Franklin, American soul and Gospel singer worship leader (The Family, God's Property and 1NC - An Nation Crew), was born on Revenue 26, the early 70's. Samuel Hopkins Adams, Developed journalist and thus author (Average Jones, Tube Town, Our Clarion, The Flying Death, Grandfather Stories, The Decent American Fraud, The Harvey Girls, Usually the Health Master, Incredible Era, Our Rectangular and the particular People to It, Revelry, The Keys of Forlorn Cove, Siege, Success, Tenderloin and A new Unspeakable Perk), was first crawled the beach on The month of january 26, 1871.