#THAT'S THE ACTUAL DEFINITION OF MARRIAGE LOL (shakes desk like a two year old) The fact that they fused together... man...😭

[megidoreyn]

Happy Satan Saturday! 🌞 Had to draw the canon Satan husbands fusion of Walter-Lucifer and Jonathan-Merkabah to celebrate😈🙏👼💕 I hope everyone has a great weekend! 💙💛

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[seanfalco]

Want | Priest!Kay x Reader {Part I}

Fandom: Season of the Witch Modern!AU Word Count: 2k

Warnings: None yet, other than maybe some sacrilege? (I’m not Catholic and I know this is probably not going to be everyone’s cup of tea) but there will be smut in later parts.

a/n: I got this prompt (below) & at first wasn’t sure what to do for it, until @midnightseance inspired the idea & @immortalled encouraged me to go for it lol. Thank you two for being my sounding boards 💛

Prompt: Initially I wasn’t gonna request anything because I... didn’t really have anything in mind but then I had a brain blast. I request you writing something you’ve really wanted to write but maybe have talked yourself out of. Like something you thought no one would want- like this is your sign this is your signal. I want to read it! Watching you write something your heart is fully in is one of my favorite things i’ve seen since following you. It doesn’t matter what it is I want to see it!!

Requested by: Anonymous

masterlist

You’d always thought Catholic churches were gorgeous — the architecture, the sculptures, the stained glass windows — so why did you feel this gut churning sense of dread at the sight as you approached.

“You sure I’m not gunna burst into flame as soon as we cross the threshold, like in some sort of horror movie?” you leaned in to whisper in your fiance’s ear and he scoffed.

“If that actually happened in real life, then I probably would’ve spontaneously combusted years ago,” he answered wryly, his eyes flicking to his parents on his other side.

“Right,” you muttered, taking a deep breath as you passed through the large double doors with the rest of the parishioners.

The inside was just as beautiful as the outside and you gaped at the sprawling windows, glittering colourfully as the sun hit them just right, while trying not to think about how anxious you felt. As you filed into the pew with your fiance and his parents, you could feel eyes on you from all sides as people whispered under their breath.

“Is that Matthew’s fiance? She looks rather plainer than I’d expected.”

“Is it true they’re having the ceremony here? She’s not even Catholic.”

“Well, she must be converting.”

Sinking down in the pew, you felt very out of place, and it was obvious to those around you that you were an outsider. You’d never been to a Catholic Mass before, much less any church service, really, and truth be told you weren’t really sure if you even believed or not, but this was what your fiance’s family wanted, though you knew he didn’t really care either way.

Matthew wasn’t exactly what you’d call a good Catholic boy — you’d definitely performed several cardinal sins with him already: sex before marriage, masturbation, use of contraceptives, the list goes on. But either way it wasn’t like you had much of a choice in the matter, you were joining the Catholic Church for better or for worse.

Soon the service began and you listened quietly, trying to pay attention, but amidst all the standing, sitting, and kneeling, you were getting dizzy trying to remember it all, and you tried to follow your fiance’s lead, but you were always a beat behind the rest, feeling more self conscious by the minute.

What are you doing here? you asked yourself for about the tenth time, grimacing as you quickly sat once more, glancing around hastily. It was obvious you didn’t belong, and your fiance didn’t even seem to care. In fact, he didn’t seem to be paying attention at all.

And that was when you saw him, quite possibly the last person you had expected to see.

Stepping up to the pulpit, he was dressed in black robes and a white collar, but you’d recognize him anywhere -- those wild curls, kind eyes, and breathtaking smile.

Kay.

Your Kay— no, not anymore. He’d gone to seminary school and you were marrying someone else, remember?

He was older now, and even from where you sat you could see the faint lines creasing his face, but he was still as gorgeous as you remembered him and your heart constricted for a moment as memories assailed you, overwhelming you — of awkward fumblings in the back of your car, of stumbled “I love you’s” for the first time, of —

“Hey, what’s gotten into you?”

Matthew’s voice in your ear snapped you out of your thoughts and you weren’t sure if you were grateful or annoyed.

“Huh? What do you mean?” you replied, trying to compose yourself, though you still felt like you couldn’t quite catch your breath.

“You went white as a sheet,” Matthew answered with a frown and you shook your head, your eyes returning to Kay.

“Is that your Priest?” you asked instead and your fiance glanced at you curiously.

“Yeah, he’s pretty new though, why?”

“He’s uhm, he’s just so… so young,” you whispered, stumbling over your words. “I thought priests were usually supposed to be, you know… old?”

Matthew snorted softly. “Don’t tell me you have the hots for him too.”

“What?” you hissed, glancing past him to see if his parents had overheard; they hadn’t seemed to and Matthew merely looked amused.

“Oh yeah, he’s rather popular with the other church girls, but I can’t see it,” he scoffed and your lips twitched angrily.

“I dunno, I can see the appeal,” you murmured under your breath. “I think he’s rather handsome.”

Your fiance rolled his eyes. “Sure, whatever,” he mumbled and you ignored him, turning back to the front. For a moment Kay��s gaze seemed to pass over you and he froze, his words dying on his tongue as he faltered, his eyes going wide with shock, and he hastily cleared his throat, unable to look away.

Smiling uncertainly, you met his gaze and his reaction seemed to answer the unvoiced question that had been plaguing you since he’d stepped up to the pulpit.

Clearly, he remembered you.

What were the odds that he’d be the priest here, you thought, settling back in your seat. It seemed like some sort of cruel cosmic joke, taunting you. Or maybe it’s a sign? a little voice in the back of your head whispered. Maybe, you agreed hesitantly… if you believed in that sort of thing.

——

The rest of the sermon seemed to go by much quicker, though every time Kay’s eyes passed over you he seemed to tense slightly, while your knotted stomach would give a flutter, too lost in memories you hadn’t thought of in years to remember much of the message.

So when your fiance’s mom asked you what you thought of the homily, you had to lie through your teeth, sorry God, and hope she didn’t question you further.

“Yeah, I wasn’t really paying attention either,” Matthew muttered as you filed out of the sanctuary after his parents and turned down a side hall toward the Parish office.

Shit, you thought frantically, you’d almost forgotten you were to meet with the Priest after Mass to speak about converting and beginning that process. Which meant you’d be meeting with Kay. Great.

“Ah, Father, there you are, lovely sermon,” Matthew’s mother exclaimed and you gave a start, your heart leaping into your throat as you turned to find Kay approaching.

Cool it, [y/n], you told yourself, trying to calm your pounding heart. How many years has it been? Besides, you’re getting married and he’s a fucking priest for Christ’s sake —shit, sorry, God. He chose this life over you, remember that.

“Father, this is our soon to be daughter-in-law, [y/n].”

Shit, you were being introduced, say something, [y/n].

Luckily, before you could decide whether to pretend you’d never met before or explain that you already knew each other, Kay was reaching out to shake your hand, and wordlessly you slipped your hand in his.

“How do you do?” he murmured, holding onto you a beat longer than was proper, but you didn’t exactly want to let go either.

“Good, I’m good,” you managed to stammer, his smile still doing things to your pulse.

“So, uhm, shall we step into my office?” he asked, finally letting go of your hand, almost seeming to have forgotten he was still holding it.

“Actually, we’ll be on our way. She’s in your hands now, Father,” your future in-laws exclaimed, and you waved as they exchanged a few more pleasantries before making their exit.

“Do I need to be part of this meeting too?” Matthew asked suddenly, as soon as his parents had gone and you turned to frown at him, sharp suspicion filling you, but you kept your mouth shut and swallowed it, not wanting to cause a scene in front of Kay.

“I… I suppose not,” Kay answered hesitantly, and a look of relief flashed across your fiance’s face.

“Sorry to run. I’ll see you later, hun,” he exclaimed, planting a distracted kiss to the top of your head before striding away, already pulling his phone from his pocket and you scowled after him.

“Sure, make me go through all this for you and then don’t even stick around,” you muttered under your breath as you watched him go.

“Er… shall we?” Kay prompted, holding his office door open and you gave a small jolt, shaking yourself out of your thoughts to enter the dark room, Kay reaching for the light switch as he followed.

“Have a seat,” he offered, gesturing to the set of chairs facing his desk before hanging up his robes and taking a seat as well, facing you. “[y/n],” he exclaimed, familiarity leeching into his voice now that you were alone. “To say I’m surprised to see you here would be a bit of an understatement.”

“That makes two of us,” you replied, looking around his office.

“It’s been so long,” he murmured, gazing down at his hands, “you look so —it’s uh, it’s good to see you,” he said, cutting himself off and you desperately wished you knew what he had been going to say instead.

“You look good,” you replied, offering him a hesitant smile, your eyes flicking over him. “Am I supposed to call you Father, or--? Because, I’ll be honest, that’s kinda weird,” you admitted, and Kay grimaced slightly.

“I mean technically you’re supposed to, but…” he paused to clear his throat, “—I agree, it is a little … strange,” he admitted as well and you were glad to see he hadn’t changed too much.

“Right? It’s too close to calling you ‘daddy’,” you muttered, realizing too late what you’d just said, feeling your face heat with embarrassment, as across from you, Kay had turned nearly as red as you felt, and he quickly cleared his throat, hooking his finger under his collar in discomfort.

“Let’s uhm, let’s talk about what you’ll need to do to join the Church,” he said, quickly changing the subject and you heaved a breath, thankful to ignore that awkwardness.

“Right, yeah,” you agreed. “So, what exactly do I have to do?”

Composing himself, Kay folded his hands atop his desk. “Well, usually new converts wishing to become baptized in the Catholic Church have to attend a series of classes for nearly a year—“

“A year?” you yelped, cutting him off, your eyes widening at the thought.

“—But,” Kay continued wryly, “we usually make exceptions for those marrying into the Church, letting them join on a more condensed timeline, opting for uh...private lessons,” he explained, his voice constricting at the word private.

“So… you’re saying I’ll be taking one on one lessons... with you?” you asked, chewing the inside of your lip. This sounds like a bad idea.

You were already painfully aware of the fact that you’d never truly gotten over your feelings for Kay and now you’d be spending one on one time with him on a weekly basis, all the while knowing it was only so you could enter into a marriage you didn’t truly want. Already your heart was racing and your mind was reeling with memories all clamoring for your attention.

You didn’t know if you could do this. If you should do this.

But part of you wanted to, if only to be close to him again.

“Will that… be a problem?” Kay asked slowly, as if he had to force the words out.

“No,” you answered quickly, “no, that sounds good.”

Liar.

“Are-are you sure? I mean, with our, ahh… history, I wouldn’t want —“

“I don’t want anyone else.”

At your words Kay’s eyes widened and you could practically hear his breath hitch from where you sat and for a moment neither of you spoke, the words hanging in the air like a confession and you felt your face once more grow hot.

“I mean, I don’t want anyone else for a teacher,” you amended, clutching your hands together in your lap.

I want you.

“Oh, y-yes, that’s… that’s good,” Kay murmured, taking a deep breath, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “We’ll start next week then.”

You nodded as you stood. “Sounds good to me.”

“[y/n]—“

Opening his office door, you hesitated, glancing back at him as he quickly called your name.

“Yes… Father?”

Kay swallowed thickly. “It… it truly is good to see you again.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Yeah, it is. Til next week, then.”

———————

Everything Tag List: @magic-multicolored-miracle @midnightseance @etherealsxnder @iamsexytrash @orions-nebula @slutforrobbiebro @super-unpredictable98 @misskittysmagicportal

[what-is-sibling-test]

So, we've gotten to see everyone have their own fangirl/boy moments through time, but what about Garcia? I have a mighty need to see him have a giddy meltdown and the rest of the team's reactions to it lol.

The gang has been walking for almost an hour already, and in New York City in August 1884, on hot, muddy streets crowded with horses, carts, wagons, draughtsmen, newsies, hucksters, men in tweed caps and women with parasols, when they’ve had to stop and buy cups of lemonade for a nickel and still haven’t figured out what Rittenhouse is doing, that is a pain. Lucy said that the foundation stone for the Statue of Liberty was laid on August 5 of this year, which seems like a big symbolic moment for Rittenhouse to target (put in some creepy subliminal messaging?) but they went out to Bedloe’s Island as soon as they landed, and they can’t find any evidence that Rittenhouse was here. They ask around, but none of the workmen have seen anything out of the ordinary.

Lucy’s next guess is the earthquake that hits on August 10, causing notable property damage in Queens and across the eastern United States, but what would Rittenhouse be doing with that – being good neighbors and helping people rebuild their chimneys? Either way, they’re a bit early for both events. It’s the second of August, and they’re spinning their wheels, trying to canvass the city and see if that sparks any stroke of genius. Everyone is hot and thirsty and out of sorts, the lemonade being a while ago, when Flynn stops dead and says, “Hold on. I think I know what they might be doing.”

He turns around and starts marching off with a zealot’s gleam in his eye, as the team trails along after him like a gaggle of cranky ducklings. They don’t stop until Flynn has reached a large brownstone warehouse on the Lower East Side, which honestly looks like it could be the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory a few decades early. The lettering on the facade reads EDISON MACHINE WORKS.

“Edison.” Flynn comes to a halt and cracks his knuckles with the expression of a man confronting his nemesis, until Lucy feels compelled to remind him that he can’t actually shoot him. “Come on.”

Lucy, Rufus, and Wyatt exchange a baffled glance, but follow him into the building, which is hot, crowded, and noisy as hell. There’s the deafening bang of machines, young men running by in shirtsleeves spattered with ink, and the other labor of trying to build an electrical grid for a late nineteenth-century city by hand. Flynn leans over the tall desk and shouts at the receptionist for a while; it is clearly difficult for them to understand each other. But the receptionist finally gets the mouthpiece off the hook (the Bell Telephone Company was founded in 1877, and in two more years, there will be almost 150,000 telephone owners in America) and calls for someone. While they wait, everyone eyes Flynn suspiciously. “Look,” Wyatt says. “We all know you hate Edison, but – ”

Flynn snorts, as if they are actually here for Edison, and Rufus frowns, as if something has just occurred to him. “Wait. Did you ask for – ”

The rest of that sentence is cut off as they turn around to see a thin, pale, dark-haired young man in an ill-fitting suit standing at the head of the hallway. “Yes… hello?” He speaks English laboriously, with a heavy accent. “You… see me?”

Flynn turns around and grins broadly, looking practically giddy, as Rufus’s jaw drops, and Lucy, who as the historian is used to having the jump on things, is baffled. Then both Flynn and Rufus rush forward in an apparent competition as to who can shake the newcomer’s hand faster, and end up grabbing his right and left to do so at the same time. Wyatt stares at Lucy and mouths, The fuck?

 “Sir.” Flynn is practically wriggling, before he recollects himself. “It’s an honor to finally meet you. I am a big fan of your work.”

“Me too,” Rufus says. “I am also a big fan of your work.”

“Big… fan?” The young man frowns over this unfamiliar expression. “I am sorry,  I can – can I help?”

Flynn thinks of something, brightens even further, and switches into Croatian. Nobody can understand what he’s saying – except for the young man, who starts to answer him with much more ease, as it is clearly also his native language. As they’re talking away in an animated fashion, and Rufus is looking like Flynn ran up and stole his ice cream, Lucy edges forward. “I’m sorry,” she mutters. “Who is that, exactly?”

Rufus looks at her as if he can’t believe that she of all people just asked him. “Tesla, Lucy! Nikola Tesla!”

Oh. Right. Shit. The twenty-eight-year-old Tesla just immigrated to the United States a few months ago, and will work at Edison Machine Works for a few more months until he quits in December in unspecified circumstances (widely rumored to be Thomas Edison screwing him over). If Rittenhouse is trying to pre-empt that, get in there ahead of the Edison jerk-curve (he might be one of their historical members, which should make this even easier) and collect Tesla for themselves, they can set themselves up to be the beneficiaries of his inventions – which covers basically all of modern electrical and computer engineering. They could literally rewire the entire grid in their favor, influence how wireless communication develops and how it’s used, and – the possibilities are limitless. Thomas Edison being a dick strikes again!

Lucy glances over at Flynn, who is practically vibrating with excitement. A soft smile crosses her face, as while she, Wyatt, and Rufus have all had their moments of meltdown over their favorite historical figures, she has never seen him like this. Then she glances back at Rufus. “Why does Tesla speak Croatian? He was a Serb, wasn’t he? From the Austrian Empire?”

“Yeah, but he was born and raised in Smiljan,” Rufus says, looking rather pleased that he knows something she doesn’t. “That’s in modern Croatia, so it’s his native language. It’s only a couple hours drive from Zagreb.”

“Let me guess.” Lucy raises her eyebrows at him. “You have definitely made a pilgrimage there in the past.”

“It was the first big trip I took after I got the job at Mason Industries,” Rufus says. “Seriously, without Tesla, literally nothing of what I do would be the same. He’s a genius. Excuse me, I gotta go stop Flynn from proposing marriage.”

Lucy raises both eyebrows and turns, hiding a smile in her hand, as Rufus speeds back over and practically hip-checks Flynn away from their shared hero. Flynn looks put out, but turns back to Lucy and Wyatt and dutifully translates that yes, Tesla has been approached by some rich Americans who want to buy him out and send him onto bigger and better things for their company. Flynn has told him not to take the offer, but warned him that Thomas Edison is – 

“Wild guess,” Wyatt says. “A dick?”

Flynn stares at him judgmentally, as if Wyatt has not grasped that essential fact yet, there is no hope for him. “Yes. Anyway, they’ll be coming back, we need to stay here and keep an eye on that.”

“Terrible burden, right?” Wyatt can’t help a grin. “You know, man, I didn’t know you actually liked historical people. Instead of shooting them.”

Flynn stares at him with a massively wounded expression, but seems to decide that he deserves that enough not to retaliate. He does shoot one more dirty look at Wyatt over his shoulder, and zooms back over to Tesla with the dewy-eyed expression that he usually only wears while gazing at Lucy. He interrupts Rufus, who is doing his best to compensate for Tesla’s limited English (basically repeating “I love you, dude,” over and over, much to the inventor’s confusion) and pointedly commandeers the conversation back into Croatian. Wyatt and Lucy glance at each other, then bite their lips again.

(Well, Lucy thinks. It is very sweet.)

from 'RittenhouseTL' for all things Timeless https://ift.tt/2slsOrQ via Istudy world