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mikimakiboo · 3 months ago

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Time Travelers AU - The Box™

The idea of the TV comes from @ancha-aus and it was too funny to be left in a reblog, so I had to write it :D

First

ALSO because I forgot to say it in the first drabble- Nightmare doesn't have his tentacles summoned because it's a waste of space and it makes his back hurt so he only summons them in very rare occasions

Dust woke up with the sound of metal kitchenware falling on the ground. He sighed.

- Please be a cat...

He pushed the covers aside, grabbed his jacket, put on his sweatpants, and walked to his bedroom door, stopping right before grabbing the handle. What if he went back to bed ? He heard metal clanking.

- Oh for God's sake.

He opened his door and was met with Cross holding Killer by his arm, the roman was sitting on the ground and holding a fork in his hand, the other kitchenware laying on the ground with the drawer they were previously in being opened. Dust stared at the two, and they both stared at him. It was nine am. Dust didn't want to deal with that at nine am. He turned to Nightmare to ask him if he could tell Killer to stop looking through his stuff but he stopped himself when he saw that the noble was still sleeping. Strange, he thought that nobles woke up early ? He was almost ready to see him judging him for sleeping in to be honest, but it seemed that instead he was the last one still asleep as Dust could see Horror looking at them from outside. Right, he should probably go open the door for him, not sure the viking knew how to open a sliding door.

He let Horror in and closed behind him, he saw Cross letting go of Killer who quickly assembled all the kitchenware to put them back in the drawer, because looking was a thing but making a mess was another, and Dust was his host, it wouldn't please the gods if he made a mess in his host's house. Dust was really wondering how Nightmare managed to sleep with all that noise.

- So, uh... ya'll slept well ?

As expected, none of them understood. Dust went to grab his phone that had finished charging overnight and went back on Google Translate, using the vocal command for French and Latin and letting Horror read the Old Norse as there wasn't any vocal sample for that. They all nodded.

- Good. Well.. I'll just make myself some coffee, and uh.. and we'll see from there, I need coffee first.

He declared as he went to the kitchen.

- Move.

He said to Killer, pointing at the livingroom. The roman looked at him for a minute before understanding and going back to his corner in which he apparently installed the lava lamp to make it more cozy. Dust sighed and turned the coffee machine on while he opened the cabinet above the sink, but before he could climb on the counter Horror grabbed a cup, by simply lifting his arm, and handed it to him. He didn't notice him following him.

- Oh, uh.. thanks ?

He said, quite confused, but took the cup to pour the coffee in it. Did Horror do that because he felt bad about last night ? He had made thumbs ups, he thought he would have understood it meant no hard feelings... well, at least he didn't have to climb his counter this time.

He looked through his cabinets as he sipped on his coffee, he was low on food, it was enough for him but he had five mouths to feed now, and what he had clearly wouldn't suffice. He'll need to go grocery shopping, which meant either take them with him or leave them alone in his apartment, and he didn't like neither options. He couldn't take them with him though, because monitoring them here was a thing, they couldn't go too far, didn't have much to do, didn't have to worry about people, but monitoring them outside ? In the middle of a crowded store ? When no-one spoke their language and they surely didn't even know what a store was ? Dust would die from stress before he could grab a cart. Plus he didn't have any clothes to lend them, the only ones being roughly his size being Killer and Nightmare, but he doubted Nightmare would agree to take off his fancy clothes and Killer didn't seem to know what pants were and Dust really didn't want to dress him up. He also didn't have the money to buy them all a new set of clothes, so he'll have to leave them here. Maybe he could put on a movie for them to watch ? That would keep them untertained.

He put his empty cup in the sink and went back to the living room to look through the drawers under the TV, searching for long movie so he would have time to shop in peace. He had a five hour long movie about the French Revolution but he doubted it would have been a good thing to show Nightmare, he didn't want to give him, well, nightmares, so he eventually settled on The Lord Of The Rings, which was three hours long, with the shop being fifteen minutes away, that left Dust with two hours and a half to shop, which was more than enough.

He got up to put the DVD box on the table and noticed that Nightmare had woken up and sat up straight. Saying that he looked disoriented would have been an understatement, his mind was clearly foggy. Dust checked the time, it was almost ten, Nightmare must have been exhausted to sleep that late. He went on Google again, just in time for Nightmare to speak, still sounding quite sleepy.

- Pourquoi ne pas m'avoir réveillé... ?

He asked. "Why didn't you wake me up ?" The translation said.

- Why would we ? You were tired, so you slept, 's as simple as that.

He answered, using the vocal command so Nightmare could hear it in French. He looked up at him confused, like he didn't understand that sleeping was made to rest when tired and not just to pass the night. That made Dust wonder at what time he usually woke up ? Surely around seven am, when the sun rises. Did they have alarm clocks at that time ? Or did his servants, because he surely had some, wake him up every morning ? Did he ever sleep enough by the way ? Maybe that would explain why he slept in and why he got so confused on why they didn't wake him up. Well, good for him, Dust thought, at least he got to rest.

Dust looked at the time again. If he went to the store now he would come back near one pm, so he would have time to cook and they could eat between one and two pm, which wouldn't be too late, and he would have the afternoon to make more researches.

- Okay everyone here !

He called, gesturing for the four to come closer or simply listen to him.

- I'm going to grab some food, so you will stay here and watch a movie on the TV while I'm gone, do not make a mess and do not fight.

He first translated in into French, then into Old Norse, which had some words missing because they didn't exist in that language, such as TV and movie, but Horror still understood that Dust would be out, probably hunting, and they had to stay here and be calm. Dust looked at Nightmare, waiting for him to translate for Killer, Cross having understood the general idea already. Nightmare rubbed his eye and focused for a bit before coming up with a translation, not knowing either what a movie was, but he figured the "TV" was this big flat black mirror behind Dust.

- Emit cibum et rogat nos ut hanc nigram cistam videamus dum abest.

Dust wanted to steal his knowledge, just open his head and take it, how was he so fluent in a language that had been dead for centuries ?!

He decided to leave it for now, having more important things to do, and just put the cd in the player before turning the movie on and going to put on his shoes to go outside. Cross looked at him for a few seconds before letting him get out of the apartment.

Dust sighed when outside, finally being alone. He grabbed his headphones and put on some music on his was to the store. French songs. To try and learn some words. Maybe choosing L'Assasymphonie as a starter song wasn't his best idea as it had quite a lot of complicated words, but the song slapped, so he kept it anyway.

It was the first time in his life that Dust had been happy to go grocery shopping, and also the first time it took more than two hours, he really wanted to appreciate some time away from everything, but he had to come back now, the movie was almost done and he didn't want them to make a mess the second they would be left without a distraction.

He opened the door with one hand, the bags in the other, and was surprised to see that Cross wasn't standing guard anymore. Well, surely he had joined the others to watch the TV. Dust came in, and just had the time to close the door before Killer litteraly jumped at his feet to hold onto his waist.

- Wh- ?!

- Quaeso ne nos in arca pone ! Bene erimus ! Promitto !

He begged as if his life depended on it. Okay what happened ? Dust looked up, inspecting his appartment, but everything was in order, the credits were rolling on the TV, Nightmare was on the couch, Cross was standing next to it, Horror was standing near the bay window, and, oh... they all looked at him frightened. Did he put a horror movie by accident ? He was pretty sure he grabbed the right box but the cds could have been mixed up. He recognized the names of the characters on the credits though, so he did put the right movie. But why did they look so scared then ?

- Killer, let go.

He pushed him, but Killer tightened his grip around him. He sighed, picking up his phone again to ask Nightmare what happened.

Nightmare flinched when Dust "talked" to him. Weird. He looked at him for a while before answering, seeming unsure.

- Allez-vous nous emprisonner dans cette boîte également... ?

Dust looked at the translation with incomprehension: was he going to lock them in the box too ? What box ? Why would he lock them in a box ? He looked up at them again, then at the TV.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Of course they didn't know what a film was, of course they would think it was real people, hell even he thought that when he was a kid, before he learnt about special effects and cgi, he thought it was all real, that people were really dying, so of course these four would think that real people were trapped in there, the only thing they knew was theater ! What Dust just did was basically show them his collection of enslaved people in boxes who he forced to perform elaborated scenarios where they would get hurt and possibly die. That couldn't be more terrifying and if he had been in their place he would have felt very threatened.

He quickly typed an explanation and translated it in all three languages, praying that the translation would be correct, to tell them it wasn't real, that these people were actors and these were simply the images of what they played, that they weren't trapped here and they weren't really getting hurt. He saw them relax a little, but they still seemed quite chocked, which was understandable.

- I'm, uh... going to make food then.. ?

Dust said awkwardly as he managed to make Killer let go of him, but the roman still followed him in the kitchen to sit by his feet. He didn't chase him, thinking that chasing him now would just make him think that Dust would lock him in the TV, or the box as they seemed to call it, so he just prepared dinner with the skeleton waiting on the floor. He heard Cross go back to the door.

- You can take a break you know.

Cross looked at him.

- You know, break, how do you say... pause ? Arrêter ? You can stop ?

He tried to translate from memory. Cross frown.

- Eo ne poez mie. Eo doi monter la warde.

- Yeah you already said that, but that's okay, you did a very good job, uhhh.. un bon travail.. ? So you can.. you can pause ? You can stop, bon travail, take une pause.

He managed to blurt out in a broken French with a smile, so hopefully Cross would understand. The knight looked at him before quickly turning away. Dust could have sworn he saw a faint purple blush on his cheeks. He wanted to ask him but the timer went off at that moment. Food was ready.

Horror helped him set the table, putting spoons for himself, Killer and Cross, and forks for Nightmare and Dust.

Cross avoided Dust's gaze during all of dinner while Nightmare kept eying Horror who was sitting next to him, surely to make sure he wouldn't touch him, Dust thought, as the noble seemed quite cautious of the viking, even though for now Horror was clearly not the dangerous type. Whatever, as long as they didn't fight, Dust wasn't going to force them to become friends.

He had a good feeling about Horror though, he was helpful and didn't look at him weird when he came up with broken translations. He kinda liked him. If they ended up being stuck here for a while he wouldn't mind him as a roommate.

He still hoped they would be gone soon though. He really didn't have enough money for all of them.

His bank account was almost empty already, and it wasn't even past the first half of the month.

He'll need to save money. Like, really save money.

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onceuponapuffin · 8 months ago

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Fanatic Intervention Part 18!!!!!!

I haven't been able to write for a week and it made me all squirrely.

Alright so the vote was for a weird roadside attraction, and I got THE MOST AMAZING recommendation. Just as a reminder, I do take requests for this fic :) This particular attraction was suggested to me by @hummingbee-lievable and I mean, I just couldn't say no. You'll understand why when we get there.

Here are some links to the music mentioned, in case you haven't ever heard it and want to :)

Vivaldi's Four Seasons

Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture

Let's do this.

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*************************************

Approximately 8 hours.

That’s how long you’d been driving for.

Aside from a couple bathroom breaks, and a quick trip through a fast food drive through (Aziraphale complained until you managed to persuade him to try french fries and a chocolate shake – suddenly he became positively fascinated, much less whiny, and much more fun to be stuck in a car with), the five of you have basically been on the road non-stop. You’ve all run out of things to talk about, the playlist has been shuffled and reshuffled often enough that you’re becoming able to tell the difference between the different concertos and symphonies that Aziraphale added. The SUV, roomy as it is, is becoming stuffy, and frankly you’re starting to feel sore in places that are going to make the next 20 hours of this...difficult to say the least.

“Okay,” You say, breaking the silence, “Honestly, I get that we’re on a bit of a time crunch, but if we don’t stop for a real break soon, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“What,” snorts Crowley from the driver’s seat, “You mean you’ve had it this whole time? I am shocked.”

You stick your tongue out at him, and lean over into Sardis’ space to make sure Crowley can see it in the rearview mirror.

“Now, now,” Aziraphale says soothingly – he doesn’t fool you, you can see him smirking, “I’m very certain we can find a suitable place to rest for an hour. Some fresh air would probably do us all some good.”

Oh, so he’s getting restless too. Good to know you have Aziraphale on your side with this one. Sardis is already tapping around on his phone, and you glance over to see him googling the area. Thank someone. Anathema has her nose in a book, but gives a thumbs up to show that she agrees with the idea. So it’s basically unanimous. Sardis very quietly taps you and discreetly shows you his phone screen. You look over, figuring he must have found something and….oh.

OH BOY DID HE EVER.

It takes actual work to play it cool. If you don’t do this very carefully, you won’t get to see this glory in person. You nod at Sardis, who winks in return. The plan is set.

“I’ve found an art museum nearby,” he says. You can see Aziraphale’s face light up.

“Oh! That sounds lovely! Perhaps they have a cafe!”

“And maybe a gift shop!” You add hopefully. Best to sell this hard.

Crowley sighs. “Yeah fine, whatever. Just give me directions, would you?”

“Sure thing,” Sardis replies.

To cover your bases, you take you phone, and turn on Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. Aziraphale, utterly delighted by the turn of events, begins humming and conducting the non-existent orchestra. He loses himself to the music relatively quickly. Between that, Anathema in her book, and Sardis feeding Crowley directions one at a time, you’re off to the races.

As you get closer, you start to see signs advertising it. Crowley snorts once or twice, but doesn’t seem any the wiser as Sardis directs him. It isn’t until you pull into The Truck Yard that you can see his eyebrow raising in the mirror. And it isn’t until Sardis instructs him to park in front of the building that it seems to click. Aziraphale doesn’t notice until you turn off the music.

“We’re here!” You sing triumphantly.

“Are you serious?” Crowley asks.

“Oh most definitely,” You reply. Then the demon starts to laugh, and kicks open the door with a snort.

“Right, okay, come on then!”

Aziraphale hasn’t moved.

“Perhaps I’ll stay here,” he says.

“NOPE!” Crowley calls, crouching to look at Aziraphale through the driver’s door, “You wanted an art museum, angel, you’ve got one!”

Aziraphale groans and gets out of the car. He leans heavily upon the door as he closes it. “Yes,” he said, “But I hardly think this counts as art!”

“Think of it as modern art, angel!”

“...All the more reason for me to stick to the traditional sort.”

“As long as it doesn’t stick to the bottom of your shoe, am I right?” You say, because you just have to join in. Sardis laughs and Crowley snorts, and the three of you lead the way into Barney Smith’s Toilet Seat Art Museum. Aziraphale and Anathema follow behind, pretending not to know you. You spin around and walk backwards so that you can watch the two of them as they approach the door of the building, which features Roman-style pillars built out of toilets. Aziraphale glances at them with a sigh, but Anathema raises and eyebrow and goes in for a closer look.

“Huh,” she says, clearly impressed, “Actually, that’s really clever.”

“Ugh,” says Aziraphale, clearly unimpressed, “Vulgar is what it is.”

You enter the building, and find floor-to-ceiling toilet seats. They cover every inch of wall, an absolute punch to the eyes, and yes, it is beautiful. It is glorious. You let out a low whistle.

“Look at you,” You recite, because any opportunity to quote the show is one that should be taken, “You’re gorgeous.” You notice both Aziraphale and Crowley glance in your direction briefly, but you don’t elaborate, so they both look away while you take the opportunity to notice the tiniest of blushes between them. Ha. Softies, the both of them.

“It really is,” Sardis replies, oblivious, “I’d call it downright glorious.”

You look up, and then run back over to nudge Aziraphale. “Hey, Aziraphale, look at that!” You point upwards. “There’s some more traditional art for you!”

He follows your gaze, but is, as you predicted, still disgruntled. “Is that...Michelangelo??” Painted upon the high ceiling is a recreation of Michelangelo’s painting The Creation of Adam. However, this particular adaptation features a closeup of the hands – with God handing Adam a roll of toilet paper.

You hear Crowley snort. He comes over to you and Aziraphale just so he can say to you “Most useful she’s ever been, eh?”

“CROWLEY!” Aziraphale exclaims in disgust.

“Demon,” he replies with a smirk, and saunters away. With a giggle, you follow him to where Sardis is standing.

“Hey, Witch!” Sardis calls, “Here’s one for you! It’s all about Astrology!” He looks over his shoulder, and you follow his gaze to where Anathema has started looking at the seats with curiosity.

“I’ll be there in a minute!” she responds. You see her lean in for a closer inspection of the piece in front of her.

“You are really good at this road trip stuff,” You say as you turn back to Sardis. “Did you spend a lot of time on the road with your siblings?”

“Nah, but there were a few dinners where someone had to calm things down.”

“I can imagine.” You go quiet for a while before something occurs to you. “You know, you barely know us, and you’re a lot more...open about things that I would expect, well, anyone really, to be.”

Sardis shrugs. “Well who am I going to share with? Philly was the only one I still talked to.”

You think about your first impressions of Sardis. Someone who likes to play games, someone who takes things half-seriously, but would probably monologue if you let him. Oh. He’s lonely.

“I want to trust you Sardis,” You say after a minute, “I just...I’ve been disappointed by enough people in the past that I’m still trying to decide if I can.”

He nods. “No hard feelings, Moth. Trust is a hard thing, and it takes time. So by all means take yours. Just do me a favour and put up with me in the meantime, eh? I haven’t met many humans willing to trick both an angel and a demon into visiting a toilet seat art museum with me.” He winks at you, and you can’t help but smile back.

“Oi!” Crowley announces, “Angel! Come look! This one’ll perk you up! It’s got sheet music on it*! Get it?? SHEET MUSIC!”

You and Sardis both burst out laughing, and you wander over to see this masterpiece. Anathema is coming too, and she’s also giggling even though you can tell she’s trying not to. Even Aziraphale has cracked a smile despite himself.

“Really, Crowley,” he says with a shake of his head. The angel sighs. “Right, let’s see then.” Aziraphale pulls his tiny glasses out of his pocket and puts them on his nose. Then he leans in to inspect the classical music that has been collaged onto the toilet seat, plastered beneath the title “Cannon Ball.” He hums to himself as he inspects the notes, and after a moment he starts to conduct to himself. Sardis has come and joined in, so now the full group is watching Aziraphale in anticipation – waiting for his verdict. After a minute or two, Aziraphale leans back, takes the glasses off, and polishes them with a cloth from his pocket. “It appears to be an excerpt from Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture. Specifically the bridge, which is famously known for including cannons as a musical instrument.” He glances up at you all sideways, the tiniest of Michael-Sheenian smirks upon his lips. “It is indeed, sheet music.”

No one is able to contain their laughter, not even Aziraphale.

By the time all of you head back to the car, everyone is in much better spirits. Aziraphale admits that it was a good idea to stop here after all, even if it still isn’t his idea of art. Overall, the car feels much lighter and happier than it had a few hours ago, so you bask in it. Even after the toilet jokes fade away, the mood stays. For the first time since New York, things feel light and the challenges ahead of you feel manageable.

Sometimes you just gotta stop and smell the toilet seat.

And no, I will not apologize for that line.

* My Dear Reader, I need to pull you away for a minute to quickly tell you that I have never been to this incredible museum, so I have no idea if this particular piece actually exists. But I had to, you understand. I just HAD to.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

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ofgoldiies · 3 months ago

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[ fiona palomo, cis woman, she/her, muse 04, n/a ] welcome to excesstv, ELENA LUZ PEREZ — or should i say the PRODIGY ? … a quick google search tells me you’re a TWENTY FIVE year old OLYMPIC FIGURE SKATER who’s worth $65M. you've called avalon home for SEVEN MONTHS however something tells me there’s more to you than a flashy resume and penthouse 21B on your door ? it seems you’ve managed to earn a reputation around the city for being UNAPPROACHABLE, yet, upon further investigation it seems you're also quite DRIVEN. but hey, thats the kind of mix that keeps people guessing. i'm sure as a CAPRICORN you're used to people commenting on your DIAMOND SOLITAIRE NECKLACE / DANCING BAREFOOT IN FRONT OF FLOOR TO CEILING WINDOWS, A VISION BOARD PLASTERED WITH MAGAZINE CLIPPINGS, MOTIVATIONAL QUOTES, AND SNAPSHOTS OF HER GOALS, A CLUTTERED WORKSPACE FILLED WITH TROPHIES AND MEDALS, THE SCENT OF FRESH FLOWERS AND EXPENSIVE PERFUME LINGERING IN THE AIR AND A SOFT SMILE OVERSHADOWED BY DARK EMPTY EYES . but still we can't wait to watch you flourish ( or fail ) these next few weeks …

L I N K S .

wanted(tba).

playlist (tba).

pinterest.

B A S I C S .

birth name : elena luz perez

nickname(s) : el, lane

date of birth : janurary 2, 1998

age : 25

gender : cis woman

pronouns : she/her

sexuality : bisexual

relationship status : single

birthplace : san francisco , california

currently : manhattan , new york

languages : spanish ( fluent ), english ( fluent )

education : bachelors in philosophy from stanford

occupation : professional figure skater ( olympic gold medalist )

pets : stray cat hector, she feeds outside the avalon

H E A L T H .

preferred hand : left

blood type : a+

allergies : pollen

physical : very healthy, follows a semi-strict pescatarian diet. has chronic ankle pain, that she refuses to acknowledge or get medicated because she doesn't want to defer a season.

mental : diagnosed acute anxiety

social : has a few close friends but prefers to be left alone most of the time, her schedule consists of eat, practice, and sleep - there's not much room for anything else

P E R S O N A L I T Y .

capricorn sun. intj ( the architect), phlegmatic, patience, envy, ravenclaw, chaotic good, 3w4 (the expert)

positive traits : driven, ambitious, innovative

neutral traits : competitive, outspoken

negative traits : unapproachable, insecure, cynical

habits : biting her lips when she's nervous

likes: ong nails, lipgloss, halloween, flower scented perfume, butter noodles, shopping, early morning walks, stargazing, green tea, and writing poetry.

dislikes : pineapple flavored drinks, dust, sweating, candy corn, creature movies, flip flops, people who yell and vodka.

fears : disappointing her family

label : the prodigy

tropes : brainy brunette, perfectionist, unfavorite

inspiration : hermione granger ( harry potter ), paris geller ( gilmore girls ), monica geller ( friends )

A P P E A R A N C E .

faceclaim : fiona palomo

face : high cheekbones, slightly upturned lips. wide, almond-shaped eyes, hidden behind long lashes and freckles are scattered across her nose and cheeks.

hair : Shoulder length, dark brown hair that she styles in soft waves or pulled back into a bun.

body : slender and petite, surprising perfect posture

style : typically found in athleisure, but loves simple outfits layered with oversized blazers, cardigans, and cropped jackets. ribbed knit tops, cropped camisoles, and high-waisted jeans that are typically neutral tones like beige, white, brown.

misc : elena has double lobe piercings on each ear, usually adorned with small hoops or mismatched studs. she has a tattoo on her forearm that reads, "i want to be great or nothing"

B I O G R A P H Y .

elena pérez grew up with a sense of authority over her life. she had been told from a young age that she could do anything as long as she set her mind to it.

her parents, high school sweethearts from guadalajara, risked everything to move to the united states just before she was born, settling in san francisco.

elena was their pride and joy, the embodiment of all they hoped for, the future they had imagined for themselves. every step she took, every dream she chased, was for them. and from the very beginning, they knew she was meant for greatness.

as a child, elena was quiet ... more comfortable alone than surrounded by classmates she struggled to connect with.

it wasn’t that she was lonely; she simply had no desire to play along with the other children.

sensing her restless energy, her father signed her up for figure skating lessons at a small rink nearby, thinking it would be a place where she could branch out and meet people her age.

however, and from the very first glide, elena's life changed. she was hooked.

nine months later, she caught the attention of a retired olympian turned coach, who saw her potential and knew she was something rare.

they offered to train her personally, sensing the her raw talent, mixed with the spark in her eyes.

with every practice, elena grew stronger and better, transforming into a young woman who understood that greatness was within her reach.

by fifteen, she was setting records, her name on the lips of every commentator, and her routines circulating across social media.

her parents were her biggest supporters, proud beyond measure, always there at the rink or waiting with a bouquet of roses after a competition, telling her that she was their dream come true.

at twenty three, elena reached the pinnacle of her career. she won olympic gold, etching her name into figure skating history with an unforgettable routine.

however, shortly after her triumph, her beloved trainer passed away unexpectedly.

the loss sent elena into a quiet spiral, unraveling her typically composed demeanor. and for the first time, her once unbreakable focus was shaken by grief.

desperate to find her footing, elena made a drastic decision: she moved to manhattan, hoping to reinvigorate her career by training under a renowned coach with a reputation for turning champions around.

recently, elena greed to appear on excesstv’s reality show, hoping it might bolster her exposure during her off period.

H E A D C A N O N S .

her manager had advised her against signing on for excesstv, cautioning that the show might undermine her pristine public image. but the allure of the risk, and perhaps the thrill of doing exactly what she was told not to, caused her to say yes.

she’s on a strict pescatarian diet after a disastrous attempt at veganism. started after she watched a documentary about factory farming and decided she couldn’t eat meat anymore. but her resolve crumbled after two weeks when she was caught eating a blt during a moment of weakness. she compromised by allowing herself to eat fish because, “they don’t have faces you can feel guilty about”

before every major performance, elena has a "pickle sandwich" – thick slices of dill pickles on toasted rye with mustard and a hint of pepper. it started as a quirky snack but soon became her good luck charm.

her training bag is always stocked with lavender scented bags because she insists it helps keep her calm before big competitions. it’s almost become her “signature” scent at the rink.

she’s never had a real relationship … a hook up here and there, sure. but her schedule has kept her so busy she hasn’t had the time.

elena loves her coffee strong and bitter – she’s been known to start her mornings with a triple shot of espresso, calling it her “power potion.”

before bed, she writes detailed lists of what she wants to achieve the next day. from specific jump goals to remembering to stretch.

E S T A B L I S H E D .

tba !

#etv.intro #𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑎 ✧ 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑧 ¸ info .#worst intro i’ve ever written i’m sorry #i will update later #tw death mention

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sonnyinthesky · 1 month ago

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Could someone help me with identifying support needs?

I am diagnosed level 1 autistic. Does this mean i have low support needs? It was never explained to me. In fact none of my diagnosis was. I don't know what the level means really and google isn't helping.

I can do ADLs myself. Such as having a shower, feeding myself, moving around, dressing, etc etc, but i often (always) need reminders.

I wont shower for weeks if i dont have someone demanding me constantly until i do, or when i was younger, physically forcing me in. I can't brush my teeth. I mean technically i can once i know i need to and have the toothbrush ready but i cant get to that point independently yk? I eat constantly, because i cant tell when im hungry so I interpret any discomfort as hunger which has caused many health issues. I often wear the same clothes for weeks because i forget i need to change them. Its only when i smell that i realise "oh i need to change my clothes".

As far as iADLs go, i can do some but not all. Im great at shopping, i love it, its a routine for me to go to the supermarket every day independently. I can also navigate public transport really well. I can't however, make a phone call or manage money or clean a mess or tidy my house or wash dishes after cooking. Its not laziness, i genuinely want to do those things, but being faced with the task causes me to freeze and/or meltdown and nothing gets done.

I need a lot of help and support from my mum every day to live happily. I cannot work or attend school, and i cant live alone yet. I cant drive either because i simply cannot wrap my head around the car and it causes so much anxiety that i have a meltdown every time i try. The theory is easy for me but the practical part i cant do.

I cant go to school or work because i struggle too much with the social aspect and the overstimulation. I had meltdowns before going and immediately after when i did go. And during i would have such panic and anxiety that i had to leave half way most days.

I cant live alone because i cant manage money or clean or any of that. I also would have no hygiene because i wouldnt shower or change or brush my teeth without help.

Thats all the things i cant do. But what are the things i can do? Do they outweigh that?

I can communicate well with safe people or about safe topics. I obviously dont communicate in an allistic way because im diagnosed autistic, but i can speak and mask when needed. I do suspect i have selective mutism, but generally i can talk most of the time and in emergencies.

I have been described by a lot of people as intelligent. I know a lot of facts and can learn quickly. I read and write really well. Im kinda shit at math but that's because i dont try at all and havent practiced in years.

I can cook (but not clean up after) and shop and go places that are familiar and accessible via public transport.

I can make friends if i really want to.

I can easily navigate social media and the digital world and do so safely.

I can mask and suffer through my sensory issues. I couldnt for a long time but now i can ignore sensory issues (it doesn't feel good but i can). I can also act neurotypical if i try.

So: what does this mean for me support needs wise? I know my level is 1 because im diagnosed that way, but are my support needs the same?

I dont ask to self diagnose or invade spaces i dont belong etc etc. im pretty sure im low support needs, i just am curious to know more about what autism is for me, because i was never told. My doctor diagnosed me but never told me anything about it and i want to understand.

Thank you for your help! Here is an autism creature for your troubles

#autism #support needs #support levels #asd level 1 #level 1 autism #advice please

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digitdigitech · 28 days ago

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8 Best Shopify Apps For Product Feed [Boost Visibility]

Are you trying to find the high-quality Shopify apps to manipulate product feeds and enhance visibility? Look no further! Experience hassle-free Shopify management with our top-tier Shopify Maintenance Service.

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View App

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View App

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View App

6. FeedAPIs For Bing Shopping /MS

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8. Flexify: Facebook Product Feed

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Final Words

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Also Read : 6 Best Shopify Apps For Frequently Bought Together

5 Best Inventory Management Apps for Shopify

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agentnico · 1 month ago

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Squid Game - season 2 (2024) review

Red light…. Green light…

Plot: Set three years after the first season, the story focuses on Seong Gi-hun's life after winning the Squid Game, giving up on going to the United States and returning to the games with a new resolution in mind. He once again dives into the mysterious survival game, starting another life-or-death game with new participants gathered to win the prize of ₩45.6 billion.

I’ve read a few audience responses complaining about how this season has a very slow start and doesn’t get going until episode 3/4 when we get back into the Squid Game arena. However I beg to differ, as from the get-go thus season kicks off on a high with Gi-hun hunting for clues to reach the Front Man, and the whole section about searching for the Salesman was honestly great. The sequence involving Rock, Paper, Scissors and Russian Roulette was one of the most tense parts of the entire season. That is by the way an interesting factor of this second outing - the shock value is no longer there…

We see it every day on the front page of all our social feeds. Content that triggers, disgusts, and prods our emotions into a watch, share, or discussion. Content that should never have made it to our eyeballs, but garnered more likes than that Capybara eating a watermelon. The first Squid Game was that level of a phenomenon, garnering a huge viewership and online discourse and becoming one of Netflix’s most watched shows. Maybe even the most watched show… or is that still Stranger Things? No clue, nor am I bothered to Google. Nevertheless, Squid Game’s slap to the face violence was such a dopamine rush for content hungry viewers, and the incorporations of something so innocent as children’s games with said violence was a unique and original idea. Well, not even that original if you consider Battle Royale. But truly Squid Game was a fun watch. The second season offers more of the same, only with a higher budget, better writing and maybe a tad too much exposition to set up the already-filmed third season.

Squid Game 2’s biggest fault is that essentially it’s the same thing all over again. Yes there are new characters, different dynamics and some new games to ruin your collective childhoods, but it is the same thing again. Was good to see Seong Gi-hun (Lee Jung-Jae) more confident and rebellious this time around compared to the last season, and the shadowy Front Man (Lee-Byung Hun) gets more of a backstory and screen time and honestly it’s a gift, as he manages to be both extremely charming yet sinister.

One of the preoccupations of Squid Game is human nature. As a species, are we fundamentally decent and magnanimous, or are we craven, greedy and selfish? The Salesman reminds us of the theme early on, when he takes two bags of shopping to a park mostly populated by the homeless and others down on their luck. He offers them a choice: bread, or a scratch card? The certainty of a meal, or the possibility of cash? Most take the risk, not knowing the outcome. Gi-hun already knows the outcome of the games, or at least he thinks he does. But whether he can persuade the others what it actually means to play when the odds are stacked against you is another story. But let’s be honest, we’re just out to see some bloody and connect to characters that will shortly get killed off in gruesome fashion. On that stance this season delivers. Even though it’s really half a season, and the upcoming third season is more so a season 2.5.

Overall score: 7/10

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freedomfireflies · 4 months ago

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I do like the grumpyxsunshine enemies to lovers idea and the way I initially planned it can take that route.. with Harry trying to figure out the angle she’s creating by starting the rumour, maybe assuming she’s working alongside someone from his past to expose him, and y/n finding out far more than she bargained for whilst both try to grapple with the answers they received. The way I imagined them falling for Eachother was actually the other way around y/n approaches him first primarily to be sure he doesn’t find out about the weird rumor circulating or at least make it seem less like a word of mouth or ordeal she caused and more so like people saw them hanging together and just assumed. & I imagined her being so socially awkward that her approach isn’t just on a whim, rather it’s written out almost target like…formatted two pages double spaced and scented with lavender followed word for word starting with her “smooth” method of approach hello. A few staged casual run ins to get the people talking, that was the plan.. but how does one get a guy like that to talk to you for more than five minutes.

I imagine she’s googled facts about London she could slide in for when conversation begin to dry to keep him interested. She even keeps tabs on the socials trailing him to see the places he frequents for not so casual run ins, the idea is that hopefully if he sees they “share common interests.” Maybe her little white lie won’t be much of a lie at all, but Harry grows suspicious, I mean sure he’s had his fair share of social media stalkers but this, this random girl has gone from a random run in to now popping up everywhere he goes, what is she up to? Does she know? The more they talk he realizes she knows facts about his home town in London his favorite shops, his coffee order preferences. And when he finds her little typed out plan titled mystery man with heart eyes he finds himself even more afraid, could this small quiet girl be out to expose him? Why what did he ever do to her. He plays into her attempts at casual small talk initially feeding her falsehoods to see how much she actually knows. Both embarking on a quest to learn each others motives the two find that some of their similarities aren’t based solely on research, there is something there.. somethhing sinister if you let Harry tell it sure, but hidden just below its surface maybe just maybe to y/n’s credit there is a small, well lit spark 🧨 whose to say what will happen when it inevitably goes off. Two people covering their tracks managing to find unity in the road far less traveled.

To your question, It’s a story I wouldn’t mind writing, with someone, there are many plot holes I’d like to flesh out before taking it on and concepts I wouldn’t mind having people add to. I’m glad you enjoyed, I have quite a few Harry stories/concepts I’m fleshing out some like the backpacking and summer camp concepts I sent over to you are still in the works but even if it doesn’t become anything I must admit it’s really nice having a person to share ideas with.

EEEE!! That def sounds so fun and cute!!! I hope you have such a good time writing it and that you find somebody you work well with if you decide to do it with someone else 💞 And I'm so honored you sent them, they were so fun to hear about!!

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gothdaddyissues · 2 years ago

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The Devil Came To A Small Town

Chapter Three available on Ao3 - or under the cut (~6500 words)

Summary: Cardinal Copia seeks out Primo for some advice. Izzy and Copia meet again, and continue to pine for each other (like the idiots they are).

Tags: OC female, Cardinal Copia, Papa I/Primo, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Ministry Hijinks, Idiots in Love (heart-eyes motherfucker), Eventual Smut (but not yet), swears and cursings, No Beta (we die like Terzo), Google Translate Italiano

Catch up here: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |

September 30

Her nose was cold.

Isabelle had slept with her bedroom window open. The night air was crisp and cool this time of year and always made for the best sleeping environment. The contrast between the outdoor breeze and her body cuddled in the blankets guaranteed a blissful night’s rest. But now, the chill was creeping in, slithering across her face, tickling her ears, and sneaking down into the cozy nest she had built in her bed.

She sat up with difficulty, her cat asleep between her legs and burrowed in blankets to keep warm. She gave him a pat on his head, noticing his ears were cold too.

“Gonna go close the window, Poe,” she said to him, “Be right back.”

The uncarpeted floor was like ice. Hissing, she skipped across the room to the window and pushed the curtains back enough to close it. The first colors of dawn were coming to light on the horizon, while the moon and stars still hung visible in the clear sky overhead.

Izzy hurried back to the bed, wrapping herself up in the covers again. She grabbed her phone to check the clock - just past 6:15 am, hours before her usual wake-up time. But she was wide awake now, the cold on her skin jolting her straight into full consciousness. She lay huddled in her duvet, staring up at the ever-lightening sky through the gap in the curtains. Today was the last day of September, meaning tomorrow would start the busiest month of the year for her, business-wise and personally. Samhain / Halloween would be here before she knew it.

She fussed under the blankets, rolling over onto her side, annoying the cat enough to make him jump off the bed. It was unlikely she would go back to sleep at this point, between the chill and Poe hounding her for breakfast now that she was awake. She mentally ran down her checklist of things to do for the day. End-of-the-month bookkeeping would be her first priority. She had to make some orders for supplies. Was there anything left over from the previous day?

The previous day…. Cardinal Copia.

Fuck.

She had successfully managed to distract herself with TikToks long enough to fall asleep the night before. There were no captivating dreams about him (or the skull-painted man that may or may not be him). And she had awoken without thoughts of him, until this moment.

Now it was unlikely she’d think of much else.

“Okay, fine,” she sighed to herself, tossing aside the covers and getting out of bed, “Let’s get the day started.”

Izzy took her time with her morning routine: feeding the cat, a shower, a light dusting of makeup, and a cup of tea with some avocado toast for breakfast. She planned to go to the shop early for a head start on paperwork in an effort to keep her mind occupied. She sat and ate her meal, staring out the window at the sun finishing its rise. A foggy haze was descending, the cool air mixed with the still-warm earth to blanket the town in mist. This was her favorite type of weather.

So instead of working, she chose to distract herself by heading outside for a walk. She outfitted herself all in black - leggings, a sweater, a long coat that hung past her knees, and her most comfortable boots. With her phone in hand, her earbuds in, and her moody Darkwave playlist on shuffle, she ventured into the chill morning.

She first went down Main Street a few blocks, then crossed the road onto King Street. She passed the dry cleaner, the salon where she got her hair done, the Reiki practitioner, the insurance office, and finally the library, one of the oldest and most imposing buildings in town. It was still too early for anything to be open, but the streets were alive with residents on their morning jogs or walking their dogs. She exchanged smiles and nods with everyone she saw.

King Street came to an abrupt dead end just past the library. At the end of the block was the entrance to a vast forested area, known to most everyone simply as “The Woods.” It was blocked off by concrete barriers, with a small enough opening to allow only pedestrians and cyclists through. The town owned the Woods, and while it was not an official park, the residents used the roughed-in trails as though it were. Over the years, unscrupulous businessmen had tried - repeatedly - to buy it, tear it out, and develop it, but the town had always fought back and kept them at bay. It was too beloved a spot to destroy.

It was also the place where Izzy felt most at home.

Being a witch, she was drawn to nature, of course. But she had spent so many hours of her childhood and youth exploring and playing in these woods. And as she grew into her teen years, the Woods became a safe haven for her and her friend group. It was a place where they could hide away from their parents, drink, smoke, play music, and party. The secret makeshift clearings they had built deep in the brush still stood. She never felt afraid here, only comfortable and nostalgic.

The main path through the Woods was not paved, but so well-worn that it was easy to navigate. Izzy took her time and kept a steady pace, enjoying the music in her ears while she wandered the path. Birds and squirrels were busying themselves preparing for winter. Acorns and leaves crunched under her boots. This was the distraction she needed. There were no thoughts except existing in this moment and enjoying the foggy beauty around her. She was content. She inhaled deeply, the brisk air filling her lungs, and the heady smell of damp earth enveloping her.

About twenty minutes into her walk she reached a large clearing, known as the Halfway Log Turnaround, so named because of the huge trunk of a felled tree that lay across the ground there. It was the ideal place to have a seat and rest. This was also the spot where most people would, as the name implied, turn around and head back into town, which was what Izzy had initially intended on doing. But she stopped, surveying the way ahead of her.

The path continued on, past the clearing, further into a more dense part of The Woods. It was not nearly as well-worn as the first half of the path since it was now so rarely used. It was a bit harder to navigate, more serpentine, but still accessible if you were confident and careful. Or if you knew the way as well as Izzy did. Because she and her friends had traveled it often back in the day, using it as a shortcut to get to Windermere Abbey.

Windermere Abbey. The new home of the Church of Emeritus. Where the Cardinal most likely was, right this minute.

Now she was second-guessing herself. Had she really wanted to just ‘go for a walk’ or was she being compelled to end up here? Here on the path that would carry her to the mystery man she was so drawn to…

Izzy checked the time - it was almost 8:30. She had about two and a half hours before the store was due to open. The wooded path ended beside the old, overgrown graveyard at the back of the Abbey property. It would take about twenty more minutes to get there, then another forty or so minutes back to town.

Her head was telling her to turn around and go home.

But her feet had already started moving in the opposite direction.

********

Copia hurried through the halls of the Abbey, red cassock swishing around his legs and Grucifix jingling as he moved. He had successfully avoided any more interaction with Sister Imperator the previous evening by taking his dinner in his office and heading right to his quarters afterward. He had slept fitfully, unable to stop thinking about Isabella, and had to drag himself out of bed as early as he could so he could speak with Primo before the duties of his day began. And he wanted to do it before Sister Imperator was up and about, so he had to move quickly.

He made a brief stop in the dining hall, pouring two silver travel mugs full of hot, fresh coffee. With one in each hand, he made his way through the less-traveled corridors at the rear of the main building, taking the first exit he could find that would lead him out into the grounds behind the Abbey. He used his elbow to push down on the handle, bumping it outwards with his ass to open the door, then kicking it shut with his foot once he was outside.

It was a beautiful autumn morning, the air brisk but refreshing. The rising sun’s rays shone through the light mist hanging over the gardens and into the forest beyond. It was peaceful with no siblings or clergy in sight. The only sounds were the occasional chirping of birds and the crunch of gravel under his feet as he approached the large greenhouse on the other side of the Abbey grounds.

Primo’s ghoul Alpha kept watch at the greenhouse entrance, and he opened up the door for Copia when he saw him approaching with his hands full.

“Thank you, Alpha. Primo is here, si?” Copia asked.

Alpha nodded, pointing toward the far end of the greenhouse.

The air inside was heavy with the lush fragrance of flowers, herbs, and rich soil. There were small puddles of water here and there, rivulets trickling towards the floor drain as Primo watered the raised plant beds with an antique watering can. He was humming happily to himself, seeming so content that Copia felt almost guilty interrupting him.

“Buongiorno, Primo,” he greeted, “Come stai?”

“Ah, Cardinale! You brought me un caffè? Ti benedico, figlio!” Primo took the coffee mug from Copia and took a deep, appreciative, swig. “I am well, my boy. Much better now, with this.” Primo took another sip before continuing, “It is good to see you, Cardinale. We missed you at dinner last night. Were you unwell?”

Copia sat on a bench next to the garden bed Primo was tending. “No, not unwell,” he said, “Just busy. I had a half day’s worth of work to catch up on.”

“Because of your trip into town yesterday?” Primo gave him a sly wink. “We heard all about your visit to the magic shop.”

Copia furrowed his brow. How would they find that out? Did Aether tell them? “You did? From whom?”

“Imperator, of course,” Primo continued, placing his coffee mug down on the railing of the plant bed and turning back to his herb garden. “She told us how smitten you were with the witchy lady who runs the place.”

Copia cringed. He lowered his head, setting his mug on the ground between his feet, then covering his face with his hands. “That is… Sister did not… errgghh…” he groaned, “She didn’t say that, did she?”

“Well, perhaps not in those exact words, but that was what she implied. She went on at great length about her shop and how whimsical it was, about her kindness and her helpfulness, how lovely she is. She said those were your words.”

Copia couldn’t deny that. He had told Sister as much. “Si,” he said quietly, “She is all those things and more.”

The hushed tone of Copia’s voice made Primo glance over his shoulder at the Cardinal hunched on the bench, and he turned back to him with full attention. “Is this a bad thing, Copia?” he asked, his concern obvious.

Copia was silent for a moment. He shook his head. “No, not a bad thing. Not exactly. It’s just… it was all so strange.”

“Strange how?” Primo asked, picking up his coffee and taking a seat next to Copia. “Speak to me, figlio, tell me what happened.”

There was a reason he felt comfortable confiding in Primo. The old man was patient and understanding, but above all, he was like the father he’d never had. Copia knew he could trust him and that Primo would offer thoughtful and logical advice. He raised his head from his hands. “There is something about her that I cannot explain. When I met her, it felt as if… well, as if I knew her already. I was so drawn to her, I could not look away. I took her hand and I did not want to let go. I felt like an absolute fool. And then I couldn’t sleep last night for thinking of her. This is not like me, Primo. I’ve never had something like this happen before. It makes no sense. I’m confused.”

Copia was clearly distraught, but Primo could not help but raise his eyebrows and give a soft chuckle. “Ah yes,” he began, “I see. Things like this happen if you are lucky. Usually for a reason, you know. It can be a mystery as to why at first, but that reason will make itself clear in time. The Dark Lord has blessed you. Why does this upset you? Are you not happy? Intrigued?”

The Cardinal blinked a few times, not really expecting Primo to react that way. He was not upset, or unhappy. More puzzled and anxious than anything else. Mostly, he couldn’t understand why a woman as lovely as Isabelle would want anything to do with him. “I just think it’s a bit absurd,” was all he could manage.

“You are too rational, Cardinale,” Primo said, “This is why you are bothered. You want things to ‘make sense.’ You want everything to have a reasonable explanation. You hate the idea that such things might be out of your control or that fate has decided for you. I understand. I don’t fault you for that, it is just your nature.” He gave Copia a pat on the shoulder. “But matters of the heart very rarely ‘make sense.’”

Copia picked up his mug and took a long sip of his coffee. He still didn’t want to believe it. “It feels… I mean I feel… eh… People don’t just fall in love at first sight.”

“What do you think happened when I met my Lilliana, hmm?”

“You can’t be serious?”

Primo readjusted himself on the bench to be more comfortable, facing Copia. “Oh si, it is true. It was long ago, when I was a Cardinal like you, back at the Ministry in Italy. We met in the library. I turned around a bookshelf and ran right into her, the books she carried falling everywhere. I helped her gather them up, all apologies. When our eyes finally met, it was the same feeling you described. I could not look away. I felt as if I was on fire. My heart and my soul knew her, knew that she was the one I was searching for. My beautiful Lilliana. From that very moment, she was mine and I was hers. 50 years we spent together, Copia. And even though she is gone from this earth now, I see her in each flower I grow here. She is still with me.”

The old man’s words hit Copia hard. He had fond memories of Prime Mover Lilliana, of how she and Primo were infatuated with each other even into their golden years. Their relationship had been a pure example of true love and left Copia wondering if he would ever experience something like it. But that was years ago when he was a younger man. His last serious relationship had ended when he was promoted to Cardinal, and he had long since given up on such illusions…

He gave Primo’s arm a gentle squeeze. “You were a very lucky man to have known such love in your life. But I’m not searching for anything, or anyone.”

“Your head may not be, but your heart is. It always is. Things come to you when you stop looking for them,” Primo said sagely. “You need to get out of here,” he tapped Copia on the forehead, “And use this instead,” he nudged him in the middle of his chest. “Thank Satanas you do not think with your dick like Terzo does.”

The two men shared a knowing laugh. Primo’s youngest brother Terzo, the wild and lascivious Papa Emeritus the Third, would never have such hesitant thoughts when it came to an attractive woman. Copia was no stranger to carnal pleasure - he was, after all, high-ranking clergy in a church that encouraged such things. But he had no desire to compete with Terzo’s libertine antics.

“We joke, yes, but I am serious Copia,” Primo said softly. “These last few years have been challenging for us all, but for you especially - becoming Papa’s Cardinale, leaving Italy and Sister Antonella to come here… You do so much for us, for the Ministry, but I see you have changed. You work, you eat, you sleep. You isolate yourself. Where is your joy, figlio? I worry about you. True, you are not an Emeritus by blood, but to us you are family. We want you to be happy. You should have seen Sister Imperator last night, so excited talking about you and this lady.”

This was Copia’s chance to divert the topic of conversation from himself to the real reason he came to speak with Primo. “Speaking of Sister Imperator, have you found her… difficult to deal with of late?”

Primo shook his head. “No, not more so than usual. But I don’t interact with her as much as you do. Has she been causing you trouble?”

“She was the one who sent me into town yesterday. She insisted that I go, told me I had to meet Miss Bennett. It was on purpose. It felt like she was pushing us together. I suspect it was all because of one of her damn visions.”

“I would not be surprised. The Sister has become quite the avid prophet of late, eh?” Primo mused before downing the last of his coffee.

“Do you think we should be concerned?” Copia asked. “It’s starting to worry me.”

“Why?” Primo stood and shuffled off to the potting table in the corner. “Imperator has always had visions of some sort, as far back as I can remember. Births, deaths, times of joy or turmoil - she saw them beforehand.” He returned with a small pair of shears and began pruning overgrowth from his herbs. “I was always impressed with her accuracy. She would warn me when bad weather was coming so I could protect my plants. And there was that time she told Terzo who would win the Superbowl. He won quite a lot of money making bets.”

“Yes, but compare that to what she’s doing now. Buying this Abbey, all the renovations, moving our Clergy here, taking on students, summoning more Ghouls… These are major decisions that affect all of us, and The Ministry as a whole. Based on one woman’s visions.”

“But these are all good things, yes?” Primo countered, “We are thriving here! Our numbers increase week on week. We are spreading our message. As the Sister’s commitment to the Dark One grows, so does her connection with Him. Her devotion is rewarded with the strengthening of her foresight.”

“Primo, you and I both know that the Dark One does not just grant gifts. There is always a price,” Copia said, gesturing to his white eye, the symbol of his communion with the lord Lucifer. “What price will she have to pay for this great blessing, hm?”

The old man stopped fussing with his plants and turned his full attention back to Copia. “I do not know, figlio,” he said, an edge of worry in his voice, “If Sister has made a contract with our Dark Lord for her visions, she is wise enough to know the consequences. There is little we can do to change that. Hopefully, the continued success of The Ministry will be payment enough.”

“I hope so,” Copia said ruefully. “I worry that she’d burn this place down with all of us inside just because The Devil told her to.”

Primo sighed. “You are not the only one to have such concerns. Secondo has said similar things to me. He too worries that this is getting out of hand and that Sister Imperator is playing a dangerous game. Trust me when I say he is keeping an eye on her. I will tell him you are worried as well.”

“Thank you, Papa,” Copia nodded. “What about the others? What do they think?”

“They say and do nothing. Terzo is Terzo. He he reaping the rewards of our success without worrying about the consequences. But he would side with us if it came to that, this I know. And Nihil, quel vecchio sporcaccione, is as useless as tits on a bull. Whatever Imperator wants, he agrees. As it has always been.”

With a furrowed brow, Copia finished the last of his coffee. This conversation with Primo wasn’t easing his fears in the slightest. Secondo was the most experienced of the brothers in communicating with the Dark One. If he was nervous about Imperator’s heightened abilities, Copia was right to be uneasy.

Primo sat next to him again, placing a reassuring hand on Copia’s arm. “I think I understand… you and Sister have a complex relationship. She is like a mother to you. You worry about her, about what she is doing to herself and to all of us. And at the same time, you are upset. You feel she is meddling in your life, manipulating you into meeting with this witchy shop lady, si?”

The Cardinal laughed under his breath. The eldest Emeritus brother was well into his 80s, but his mind was still as sharp and perceptive as a young man’s. “Yes,” he said, “That’s exactly it.”

“Do you wish for me to just acknowledge your feelings, or would you like my advice?” Primo asked.

“I always value your advice, Papa,” Copia answered.

“Then my advice is this: do not dismiss your attraction to this woman because of the circumstances of your meeting. I have been where you are, I have felt these feelings for someone once, and I have never regretted it for a moment. I would wish the same happiness on you. You are a most loyal servant to the Dark One, and if he has brought the two of you together, there is a reason. He finds you deserving. What have you got to lose?”

“My immortal soul? It’s possible Sister Imperator has already sold it to him.”

It was Primo’s turn to laugh now. “Oh, Cardinale, she would never! You are too dear to her. But I would sell my soul five times over to have Lilliana back in my arms again. To me, it would be worth it.” His tone grew more serious, “Try not to let Sister trouble you, alright? We will keep watch over her. Live your life and try to find some happiness. Will you do that for me?”

“I’ll try, Primo. But no promises. I already have a full-time job keeping Terzo out of trouble,” Copia replied with a weary smile.

“We’ll see if we can’t get you some help with that too,” Primo offered, “You shouldn’t have to shoulder that burden alone.”

Primo’s Ghoul abruptly appeared, on alert. He stared pointedly out of the greenhouse window towards the back of the Abbey grounds. He was tense, his hands flexed with claws at the ready, and a low growl came from his throat.

“What is it Alpha?” Primo asked, alarmed. He stood and went to his Ghoul, following his line of sight with his own. Alpha stood in front of him protectively, but Primo placed his hand on the Ghoul’s shoulder to calm him. “It’s alright, it’s alright. It’s just a visitor.”

Copia popped up from the bench. “Oh! Is the deer back again?” he asked excitedly, making his way to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the stag that visited most mornings.

It was not the deer. It was a woman walking through the abandoned cemetery at the edge of the property. Even from several yards away, Copia recognized her immediately. His heart fluttered, his breath hitched. Isabella.

“Oh sweet Satanas, Primo. It’s her,” he whispered, “It’s Miss Bennett.”

“Well, well, well,” Primo grinned, “If that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is, Copia. You’d best go say hello to her, si?”

********

Izzy emerged from the Woods through a bower formed by the thick, unkempt hedges that edged the Abbey’s property. The abandoned nun’s cemetery stood just ahead of her, still shrouded in fog, most of its thin, plain tombstones jutting out of the ground at odd angles. Some stones were broken, while others lay flat on the ground in various states of decay, covered in moss and ivy. It was a bit more run-down than the last time she had been out here and vastly worse than she recalled from back in the day. It was dank and dreary, and perfectly melancholy.

Off to her left, several yards away was Windermere Abbey. This was the first time she had seen it since the Church of Emeritus had taken possession. Her last visit here with Ari was the previous autumn - it had been derelict for years at that point. Their amateurish attempts at urban exploration yielded nothing but crumbling old buildings filled with trash and graffiti, infestations of rats, gaping holes in the roofs, broken windows, and rotting wood.

But now? Now it was nothing like she had remembered.

The main chapel and all the other structures surrounding it looked as pristine as old buildings could possibly be. A new metal roof had been installed. All the masonry was repaired. Stained glass windows had been re-installed, and even the greenhouse was restored. The gardens were perfectly manicured, bordered by neat paths of clean gravel. Even the long wooden dormitory building along the side of the property had been completely rebuilt. It had likely been decades since it looked so immaculate. Izzy estimated that it must have cost hundreds of thousands of dollars, maybe even millions, to renovate it to this condition. And the interior was no doubt refurbished in a similar, grand manner. This beautiful piece of history was finally being appreciated again, but it was a stark contrast to the overgrown graveyard here.

She strolled through the cemetery, one of her clique’s favorite places to hang out and do dramatic, goth fashion photoshoots when she was a teenager. It was embarrassing to think about now, especially after learning the history of the building and the convent that occupied it. All these women who had lived their lives in pious devotion were long forgotten, their names barely visible on the worn stone tablets. Nature was taking it over, and Izzy found that morbidly appropriate. Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, and all that.

The sun was rising higher in the sky now, burning off the lingering fog. She would have to start her walk back to town soon to open the store on time. There hadn’t been a soul out on the Abbey grounds at this early hour, and she felt oddly disappointed. Some part of her had hoped she would see the Cardinal… which was silly, really. Did she expect him to be sitting there waiting for her? Of course not. He’d have no way of even knowing she was here. It was early, he was a busy man, he had duties and classes to teach, and a life of his own. This was technically his home - if he saw her, would he think she was stalking him? Was she trespassing on private property?

Suddenly, she was an anxious mess. Her mind raced with panicked thoughts. This is stupid. Why am I here? I shouldn’t have come… I need to get back. Go quick, before someone sees you, dumbass…

Izzy turned on her heel and started back towards the Woods. She took one last, admiring glance towards the Abbey.

That’s when she saw him. The Cardinal. Clad in a deep crimson cassock. Approaching her.

Holy shit.

Her head felt fuzzy and her heart was hammering in her chest as he came closer. The panic she was feeling just moments ago was still thrumming through her, like a hormonal teenager coming face to face with her crush.

The Cardinal must have sensed her anxiety. He moved forward slowly, as if she were a frightened animal that he didn’t want to scare off. And then he waved. A shy, awkward wave accompanied by an equally shy, awkward smile. He gazed at her, those hypnotic mismatched eyes twinkling, and it melted away the panic inside of her. She returned the wave, realizing only then that she still had her earbuds in and the music blasting through them. She quickly pulled them out and stashed them in her pocket, silencing her phone just as she heard him say “Hello.”

“Hello, Cardinal,” she smiled, stepping forward to close the distance between them. “I, uh… I hope I’m not intruding. You don’t mind me being here, do you?”

“Oh no no no, you are not intruding! Not at all! It is a pleasure to see you,” he stammered, full of nervous energy. “But, eh… how did you… what are you doing out here?”

“I was taking a walk,” she replied, “It’s a beautiful morning, with the fog. I couldn’t resist.”

“You walked? All the way from town?” he asked, incredulous.

“Yes, there’s a shortcut through the woods,” she said, motioning over to the dense trees nearby. “It starts right next to the library on King Street. Takes about half an hour or so.”

“I had no idea! Do… do you walk this way often?”

“Not as often as I used to. Haven’t been since the Abbey was sold.” She nodded towards the building. “It looks amazing, by the way! Last time I saw it, it was practically falling down. Now it’s almost good as new! You’ve even rebuilt the original greenhouse.”

“Yes, everything is completely refurbished inside and out,” Copia said proudly, “And Primo was quite insistent that the greenhouse be included in that.”

“Primo?”

“He was the head of our church, many years ago,” he explained. “He’s enjoying his retirement with us now. The greenhouse is his pride and joy.”

Izzy could see an older gentleman standing at the windows of the greenhouse, watching them with a smile on his face. “Is that him?” she asked.

The Cardinal glanced back, and the old man waved to acknowledge him. “Eh, yes, it is. I was just sharing a morning coffee with him. He is a good man… like a father to me.” Copia gave a small wave in return, and Izzy joined in with a wave of her own. She watched Primo wander away from the window, the smile still on his face, before she turned her attention back to the man in front of her.

“The only thing still needing to be dealt with is this place, I’m afraid,” Copia continued, referring to the old cemetery, “We have yet to come to a decision on what to do with it. We would not desecrate it, obviously, but do we clean it up, restore it, tend to it? Or do we just let it continue like this?”

“Funny you should say that because I was just thinking that letting nature reclaim it might be a reverent thing to do,” Izzy said, “There’s something strangely beautiful about seeing it all overgrown like this. But that’s just my opinion, unusual as it might be.”

“Yes, yes” he agreed, nodding in earnest, “I think so too! But the Sister, she… well, she thinks we should be asking the community first.”

Izzy laughed softly. “Well, as an almost-lifelong member of this community, I can tell you that most people in town won’t care…” She stopped, worried that she was making the townsfolk sound cruel or insensitive, so she softened her tone, “I mean, the convent shut down, like, 40 years ago. There won’t be many folks around that remember anything about them. And the Diocese didn’t even maintain the upkeep while they still owned it. I think you’re safe to do with it what you like.”

“Then I will tell Sister Imperator that I have spoken to a representative of the community,” he gestured towards Izzy with his hands, “And that the community says to leave it be, si?” Copia smiled at her then, and she could see a glint of playfulness in his mismatched eyes that made her heart flutter. “You seem to know much about the history of this place.”

“My mother was very involved with the town’s Historical Committee back in the day,” she explained, “I learned a lot through her.”

“You likely know even more than we do.”

“You think?” Izzy gave him a smirk. “Tell me what you know and we’ll find out!”

“Well,” Copia began, still smiling, still enraptured with her, “We know that the main chapel was built in the late 1800s, with the dormitory and outbuildings added sometime in the early 1900s. It housed a Benedictine convent. Over time, their numbers dwindled and it was closed down in the 1980s. But it was considered a historical property and no one wanted to tear it down, so it remained unused and fell into disrepair. Does that sound right?”

“Yes,” she said, “More or less… it was sold for a brief time in the 90s, but the town persuaded the Diocese to buy it back afterwards.” She leaned in a little closer to him. “And they were very unhappy about it, I might add,” she whispered slyly.

The Cardinal raised his eyebrow, intrigued. “Why?” he asked, his voice also a whisper.

“Some dude-bros from the city bought it and turned it into a very raunchy goth nightclub. Called The Sanctuary,” Izzy revealed. “Our town got quite a bad reputation because of that. It was a wild place.”

Copia gasped lightly, surprised and amused. “Really? Now that I did not know!”

“I spent many, many a night here in my younger years. Drinking, dancing, smoking up behind that greenhouse, taking naughty photos in this cemetery…” Izzy confessed with a giggle.

“Oh my, Isabella… How sacrilegious of you!” Copia was laughing now, and Izzy couldn’t help but join him.

The nervousness she’d felt earlier had dissipated. She was entirely comfortable in his presence - enough to admit to the rowdy antics of her misspent youth without fearing he would judge her. Instead, he was laughing along with her, endearing him to her even more. For his part, Copia’s initial awkwardness seemed to have faded. He stood a little taller, spoke more confidently, and joked with her easily. She still felt that mysterious pull toward him, but now it felt a little less like some pre-destined arrangement, and more like the natural attraction to a handsome, charming man.

“So,” she said, stifling her laughter, “That’s the secret history of Windermere Abbey. And that’s how I know exactly the path to take through the Woods to get here. It’s burned into my memory. I will say, the exterior looks much better than I remember. I’m sure the inside is very different.”

“Well, you must come in and see. Let me give you a guided tour,” he offered eagerly.

“Oh, I would absolutely love that! But…” She knew that she had to start her journey back, that at this point she was cutting it close to opening time. It killed her to have to say no. “I can’t today. I really need to head back to town. It’s a bit of a hike and I have to get the store open.”

Izzy could see the disappointment on his face, and she could feel her own in her heart. “Of course, mia cara, I understand,” he said. “Would you like a ride? I can see if someone is available to drive you back.”

“That’s very kind of you, Cardinal, but I’ll be fine. The walk is good for my soul, y’know?” She reached out and placed her hand over his reassuringly. “But I do want that tour. I absolutely do. And I want to have the time to enjoy it and appreciate it. So I’ll be back. Soon, okay?”

Copia’s face lit up with the sweetest grin, crinkling the corners of his dark-shadowed eyes, a slight blush coloring his freckled cheeks. “Yes, yes. Soon! I look forward to it.” He slid his gloved fingers over Isabelle’s and bowed slightly, bringing her hand up to his lips to place a delicate kiss on the back of it. “Until next time, then.”

He gently let go of her hand, the soft leather slipping from her grasp sooner than she wanted it to. A simple gesture that felt so sensual, it left her momentarily breathless. “Yes, until then.”

“Ciao, Bella.”

With a smile and a nod, she turned and began making her way back to the wooded path. Her hand was tingling where he had kissed it. She took a few more steps before she heard Copia’s voice call out behind her.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright in there, Bella? You won’t get lost, will you?” He sounded worried.

She spun around to face him, still walking backward towards the bower. “Yes, Cardinal, I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry about me. I know it like the back of my hand!”

Yeah. The back of my hand… that’s all tingly because you kissed it… and now I’m walking away flexing it like fucking Mr. Darcy… shit.

Izzy waved and turned back to The Woods, stepping through the opening in the hedge and starting her trek back to town. Slipping her earbuds back in, she restarted her playlist, setting it to shuffle. It was a good thing she knew the way so well because her mind certainly wasn’t focused on the path under her feet or the music in her ears. Her thoughts were wandering to Copia, his beautiful mismatched eyes, his smile, his classically handsome face, his musical Italian accent. Even his deep red Cardinal’s robes were unlocking something within her, another kink to put on the pile with all the others she had. And the gloves… she could not stop thinking of those gloved hands touching her. Everywhere.

Before she knew it she was at the Halfway Log. She had completely zoned out, wandering the Woods in a blissful daze for the last 20 minutes. She stopped for a moment, trying to clear her head, forcing her attention onto something to ground her. She chose the music. Nine Inch Nails was on the playlist, Trent Reznor growling in her ear about wanting to “fuck you like an animal.”

How appropriate… For fuck’s sake.

#ghost #the band ghost #ghost fan fic #ghost fanfiction #my fanfic

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