#THE CRAZY LADY AT CHURCH TOLD ME SO and shes only right about the things relative to earth so we can trust her this time

[jrueships]

if will and tray don't make up in season 2 im ****ing myself

[misterbrick42]

A Day in The Life of the Guy Who Smuggles in Items into Hitman Locations

I decided to be the change I wanted to see in the world and I wrote some non-romance based hitman fanfiction about working as the guy who smuggles in items into hitman locations.

Hi, my name is Brad, and I work at the ICA. I’m not one of the assassins, or anything, but I do spend a lot of the time in the field. See, I’m the guy who helps smuggle items in. It’s a pretty straight forward job. I’m provided with the item, sometimes I’m given multiple in case it breaks, and I have to hide it in a specific spot. Sometimes I have to drop a briefcase instead of just the poison or what have you, and let me tell you, do you have any idea how difficult it is to lug a briefcase around? Especially when it has something like a sniper rifle in it, or like one time, I had to deliver a PROXIMITY. BOMB. To the top of, like, some church tower! What was that guy even planning to do? I…

Right, rule number one in my field: Try not to ask too many questions.

The assassins are the smart ones. If I were better at my job, I would have a better job, That’s an undeniable truth. I’m not the best at planning, I can barely keep my hands steady even looking at a gun, and overall? I’m just some guy.

But that’s perfect for this line of work. Can I blend into every place I go? No, of course not. I’m not as inconspicuous as… Him… but let me tell you, it’s a good day when I see someone who looks a lot like me. Cause- the funny thing is, I don’t even have to knock the guy out if I can find his clothes somewhere else.

That’s the second rule in my field: Don’t change anything. Don’t knock anyone out, don’t take anything home with you, heck, I got talked to for moving somebody’s water bottle a foot away. Our assassins are… unpredictable. They’re creative, they innovate. The very existence of the rubber duck explosives should make that clear.

Where was I? Right, so what I do is when I find somebody who I think I can pass off as being, I’ll shadow them for a while, try to learn their mannerisms, maybe hear their voice a few times. Then when I’m ready, I’ll change my clothes somewhere private. You know, I always wondered why none of the top assassins bother to pick up the bagged clothes. Heck, even He never does that. Can’t be that hard to carry. So after that, as long as me and the other guy are never too close to the same area as each other, I’m usually able to blend in pretty well. It’s not really a written rule, but it’s pretty heavily implied to keep interactions with anybody else to a minimum. But it’s not outright banned. Heck, one time I managed to get SOMEBODY ELSE to do my mission FOR ME. It was labeled the most efficient and clean mission of the month in my department, and then immediately added to the list of “Discouraged Strategies.” 

There are really only two rules in my field. Well, two main rules, anyway. There are always stipulations, but they’re conditional. But other than that, it’s just like any other field job. I’m not the best in the agency, but I’m certainly no pushover or anything. What, do you think you could hide a tranquilizer gun in the back of a parade float without being seen, hours before the start of New Orlean’s biggest Mardi Gras parade?

Okay to be fair, it wasn’t very crowded BEFORE the parade started. But do you wanna hear about one of my more interesting missions? I was sent to Miami to place a briefcase with… something inside it (all info is on a need to know basis in the ICA and I did not need to know what was in there) in the gym of the Kronstadt building. I wasn’t provided a map or anything, so I just did what any person not born in a glass cylinder would do, and asked the lady at the front desk for directions.

“Excuse me,” I started. “Where is the gym?” She looked at me like I was crazy. I wasn’t. Just a criminal. Completely different. “I’m sorry?” She responded after a few seconds. “The gym,” I repeated. “I was told there was a gym here.” “Sorry, there’s no gym here.” She told me. “If you want to see some of Kronsdadt’s revolutionary tech, however, please continue to the hallway on my left.” “No, there’s gotta be a gym here.” I probably should’ve just backed away and asked for additional info. I didn’t. “There’s a gym somewhere, right?” The other guy behind the desk perked up. “Oh, I think I heard some of the guards mention a small gym on the top floor. Sorry, but it’s only for employees. Also, the aquarium is currently closed.” This was a huge problem. I love the aquarium. Also, once again, I was going to have to go somewhere that was employee only. 

“Right. Okay. That’s okay. I’m going to. Go.” I walked away, and very clearly did not continue towards the door. As I walked to their right I could hear the guy call out saying “There’s a really nice gym a few blocks down! The quickest path is closed for the race but if you go around it’s nice and you can even go for a day without a membership! You should go!” I noticed a sign that said “Coat Check.” That was perfect. “Not that you’re out of shape or anything!” The guy at the front desk corrected himself. To my relief, nobody was behind the counter. I quickly vaulted over, briefcase in hand, and started looking for any outfit I could change into. I found a uniform similar to the one the guy at the front desk was wearing. This should get me to that gym.

I walk up to the second floor, and start looking for maps. I found one, but there wasn’t a gym on it. I decided my only option was to, again, ask someone for directions again. I was just praying nobody found me, my general demeanor, the large briefcase I was lugging around, or anything else about me suspicious. I walk up to the nearest guard. “Hey uhhh…”  “It’s Ewart. Like the guy at the front desk. No relation.” He cut me off, expecting that I was trying to guess his name. “Right, so, Ewart, where’s the gym again?” That’s how I responded, but the way he looked at me, you would’ve assumed I just told him “Hey there’s a proximity CX demolition block in this briefcase. That’s a fancy way of saying "large bomb.” he brushed the dumbfounded look off and, rudely, said “What are you talking about the gym for? It’s on the top floor, and engineers aren’t allowed up there. Everyone knows this!” I have definitely drawn massive suspicion to myself. There’s one thing that avoids this sounding suspicious, and the overuse of it makes it suspicious all over again.

“Oh, sorry, I’m uh, new here.” the classic cure-all for not knowing things a real person should and does know. Thankfully, this seemed to ease the guy’s suspicion. Unfortunately, he shouted at me to get back to work and I walked away looking pretty awkward. But that’s better than looking suspicious! 

Regardless of how poorly that interaction went, one thing was clear: I needed to find another outfit. “Command, might be stuck. Please advise.” I started combing the second floor while I waited for a response.. Not allowed in the showroom. Nothing in the android lab, or the office behind it. None of the conference rooms or bathrooms had anything. I stepped through a door I unlocked with a “borrowed” keycard. (Rule 2.5: Undo any changes you make.) I was met with an elevator shaft and a door to the overpass overlooking the race track. I looked up, and saw a satellite dish. And a pipe leading to… an open window?

Let me get off track here to make one thing clear.

I’m not Him. Everybody wants to be Him. Everybody wants to be that perfect assassin who’s so good at his job, it’s been debated whether or not he’s real. Everybody wants to be that unfeeling, killing machine whose only weakness is a single woman who works as his handler, and is completely unaware of what some of my co-workers have drawn of- Sorry, where was I? Right. I’m not Him

And I’m definitely not as agile as him. I wasn’t about to climb out a window to complete a mission, was I? I took a moment to consider my odds here. Either I perform poorly on this mission and have to take somebody out (A large briefcase makes that pretty easy, at least) Or I climb out this window and potentially fall to my death, and then get run over.

I am. I waited for the coast to clear, I set the briefcase underneath the couch so nobody would see it, and I stepped out of the window. There was barely enough room for me to walk on, and there was a pipe that would let me climb up. I rolled up my sleeves so that I could stick better and I started climbing. I could hear the wind blowing, the sound of race cars zooming past me, and my heart rate doubling. I summited onto the top floor a changed man. And it was clear in my mind: I might not even be out of here yet. I examined my surroundings. A security room through the window, a storage room, a hallway where I would certainly be seen…

“Brad, the package has been intercepted! Somebody’s taken it!”

My earpiece took me out of my focus. The briefcase must not have been hidden well enough. A guard is likely taking it somewhere like the security room…

Wait, THAT’S WHERE I AM! I watch out the window as some guy sets it down right next to me. I hear them talk through the muffled glass. “Where do you even get a briefcase like this? I oughta get one like that.” I “calmly” and discreetly swipe the briefcase and look for somewhere new to hide. Across the hall is a bathroom I dash into. Time to plan my next move. Okay, nothing here but a bottle of eyedrops and-

“Command, target sighted!” The gym was right outside the window! All I had to do was drop the briefcase where it wouldn’t be seen and take a picture for the agent. I looked around for where I could hide it. The bench might be risky, behind that shelf is- okay, there’s already a battle axe there. I kept crouching, because the place was covered in windows. Crouching is hard, you know? Try crouching right now for a bit. It’s kinda hard. Hurts the knees. Just as I decide I’ll leave it under the bench and just pray, I hear the noise of dread.

“Hey! What are you doing up here, sneaking around like that?”

I rise up, shooting my hands in the air, but not dropping the briefcase. “Wait, isn’t that the briefcase Homer just dropped in?” The guard got closer, waiting to see what was in my case before deciding if my life ends here. “Y- no,” I stumble. I wasn’t trained for combat. That’s why I took this role. “What’s in the case?” The guard took it from me. He started to open it. If there was something in here that was in any way suspicious, I was doomed. The locks snapped open. I braced for the worst. CX demo blocks. A sniper rifle. 20 pounds of hard drugs. Heck, one time there was a sword in there, which is crazy because a sword shouldn’t even be able to-

“Why is there a fish in your briefcase?” My heart rate plummeted, and then went right back up, but for different reasons.. A fish? I risked my life for a fish??? Why couldn’t I have just been an informant instead? And then I remembered rule one, stopped thinking, and adapted. “I’m sorry, I wanted to save it to cook for later… the inside of that case is insulated.” That part was actually true, but I still looked like a huge moron. Who carries around fish they want to cook later, who places their briefcase underneath a bench in an area they're literally not allowed in, and who has an insulated briefcase?? The guard, probably thinking I deserved to be fired and then sent to an asylum, decided to take pity. “Okay, leave the case, come with me, we’re going back downstairs.” I lowered my arms, kicked the case back under the bench, snapped a discreet photo and happily followed Mr. Williams, I think he said his name was, back downstairs. I could hear the horns as the Global Innovation Race ends, as I calmly and discreetly walk out the front door, knowing this was another successful mission, done okay-ish-ly.

I still think about that mission constantly. Mainly the fish part.

Do I regret being a smuggler sometimes? Perhaps. Do I wish I was one of the assassins instead? Definitely not. But it feels good knowing I can help them perform the jobs the world needs for… whatever. Oh, hey, I asked somebody if I could know who wanted me to do the job I was just talking about, and I just got an email back! Let’s see… wait, f-

IT WAS FORTY SEVEN WHO WANTED TO HAVE A FISH SMUGGLED IN!?

[donnerpartyofone]

I went to Star of the Sea a few times a week all February, which means it took me like a month to look up and discover the giant pipe organ over the entrance. It's crazy how habitually I only look where I'm stepping, I'm constantly missing the most obvious (and interesting) things. I wonder if anyone ever plays it! There's a piano and also an electric keyboard of some kind up front that they use on the weekends, when music is played by an older lady with bright red hair and an absolutely wild operatic soprano. Every single person who comes here is an absolute capital-C character. I've even started to see these cool strega types in black furs with chic wigs or dye jobs and cateye glasses; with any luck that's what I'll be like when I'm their age.

I usually say that I'm going to this place, never having been to church in my life, because of an art history-related project I'm working on, but it feels like a lot of different converging paths have led me here. When my husband and I first moved to this neighborhood ten years ago, we stumbled upon the procession of Our Lady of Sorrows aka Mater Dolorosa aka La Maria Addolorata one day, and I immediately thought...man am I in the right place. Here is her statue in the Italian social club garden (which is cut back for the winter in this image, but when it's in bloom it's like a vibrant little jungle), and here is a photo from Wikipedia of the procession:

Naturally this introduction to the local traditions made me very interested in what could be in the church, although I took my time getting there. Bizarrely, when I finally checked it out last month, almost the first thing I heard was a reading in which Mary is told about how she's going to suffer for her son's fate, using the wording: "And you yourself a sword shall pierce". The phrase has a beautiful musicality to it, but it really caught my ear because it so obviously inspired the imagery of the Dolorosa. If I had gone on any other day, I wouldn't have received this strangely meaningful-to-me welcome. This pincushion version of Mary is strikingly gothic, and often garbed in black and gold:

I'm sure that when I first started coming to Star of the Sea, creeping around sneaking pictures, it might have been perturbing to at least some of the old time neighborhood retirees who come to weekday masses. But, I eventually became a familiar face, and I brought my husband to this wine and cheese thing they offered after last Saturday's service. We went around and introduced ourselves to the main regulars plus the monsignor (who is really sweet and good-humored), and that seemed to help; when I came back on Tuesday, one of the main ladies introduced me to more people and told them about our Saturday visit, it really seemed to mean something to her. Maybe it's pretentious of me but I feel like it might be good for them to see me around, like maybe if they get to know a punk-looking chick like me a little bit, then it will make them feel like they might have more in common with really different-seeming people than they think. And vice-versa, of course.

At the end of yesterday's mass, I got to meet the extremely sharp and charismastic Father Patterson who comes on Thursdays to help out, since the church's original guy passed away. Patterson came out and met everybody this time, and I was excited to tell him that I had never been to church before the week that he himself started coming to Star of the Sea, and his homilies were part of what kept me coming back. He stunned me by saying something like, "Keep coming, because while you might be inspired by this place, people around you are being inspired by you at the same time. You won't see it yourself and you don't even have to, because it's just you, your you-ness is what's inspiring." I was so humbled, I didn't really know how to act. It was an interesting insight; often when we feel bad about ourselves, we get served this condescending rhetoric about how your low self-esteem prevents you from seeing yourself as wonderful the way others do--but this was more like, you have to spend all your time with yourself, so you never experience yourself as novel, you can't possibly see what other people see. It's like how you can't smell yourself, basically. Up at the top I was saying how everybody who comes here is a big time Character with unique personalities, and suddenly it occurred to me that I am now one of those Characters. I have the feeling Patterson was sent to Star of the Sea like Mary Poppins, to uplift everybody who lost their pastor and are worried about the future of the parish. He's doing a really good job and it will be a bummer when he's gone.

Meanwhile, baby's first meme:

[jedi-bird]

A story about my grandpa, because I'm bored and a bit lonely and my brain refuses to focus on what I'm supposed to be writing.

My grandpa grew up in Ohio, oddly enough only a few blocks over from where my grandma was born; they would meet until they were in their 20s because my grandma's mother moved them around a lot for...reasons. The church his family "attended" was at the end of their street and, like a lot of old churches, contained a cemetery.

Now, please note. Everything I'm about to write was told to me decades ago and in his own words, so I'm not sure how trustworthy a lot of it is.

My grandpa, for lack of other descriptors, was a little shit as a child. Or maybe demon spawn is a better phrase, depending on who you talked to. He and his friends were known for causing trouble, usually on purpose.

One of his favorite stories to tell me while growing up was about the time he and a friend took a bucket to the cemetery and filled it to the brim with garter snakes. He estimated they had at least a hundred by the time they were done. Why? Why not. Now, as a six year old, I hated this story. I was terrified of snakes and would cry just seeing pictures of one (I'm over that now and while I'm still not a huge fan, I do appreciate them and will even willingly look at videos without freaking out; but baby me was miserable). He told me this story as often as he could get away with it, because I think my fear brought him some kind of amusement. So, you might ask, what were they planning to do with all the snakes? That part was never revealed. In all honesty, I don't think they really had a plan other than catch snakes.

They did, however take said bucket full of snakes home. They did, in fact, get yelled at and told to "take those things back immediately!" They did, in fact, NOT take the snakes back. They instead, being little shits and demon spawn, dump them in the yard of the old lady who lived next door that they hated. She screamed bloody murder when she found out, because by the next morning they had overtaken her house. My grandpa thought this was the funniest thing ever and would laugh like crazy telling this story.

There is also a version of this same story involving a bucket full of tadpoles that wound up in the church rectory fountain and holy water vessel. Again, whether any of this is true is hard to say. But knowing my grandpa, if it was, it was likely it was his friends who did it and he just tagged along for bragging rights.

If anyone read this and liked it, let me know if you want more. I should probably get these down before my memory starts to slip more and encouragement might be the only way to do so.

[footlessbev]

Win in your own life..

I once was a person who always looked for everyone's approval, always tried to outdo everyone else, and didn't care what the outcome was.

One more strolling through the internet saw a post that didn't strike me when first saw it, then kept scrolling, but something wasn't right! I slowly went back up to see if what I saw was matching up with my morning brain. Only to find out it was what I thought.

Not sure how to cry, or how to even process what I had read.

Well, let me go back in the moment before scrolling and getting the worst news of my life. I was waking up to reach for my phone wanting to message my best friend before she went to sleep, after all night caught up with her stories. Instead of doing as such, I got on Facebook and scrolled. In the first message I saw was "REST IN PEACE SISTER RACHEL" Yeah the first post I saw. Keep in mind was supposed to be texting her.

All caught up. Back to didn't know whether to cry to what feeling was supposed to be having it was almost as if I was numb! I messaged her older sister and gave her my number only to hear Momma on the other end.

Momma told me what had happened in her final moments of life. Then momma cried sent my love, and asked her to please let me know when all the arrangements are made. I sat up and all I could do is feel the water flowing down my cheek. Thinking to myself, what do I do now? How am I going to live without the only chic that would kick my butt ask questions later. Even when I was thinking about doing things that could have landed me in trouble, she would out the blue call me, and acted as if she knew something was about to happen. Yet play it off all so easy as if nothing was about to go down. 30 years of never missing a phone call, 30 years of always running to her knowing that about to get handed me the unsugar-coated truth. Weather if I liked it or not.

I was the only friend who kept up with her in her 39 years of life. As it was stated in her program book at her service. She suffered from a rare disease Morquio syndrome that kept her from her body growing as a human like you and I.

In school, Rachel was like my baby, if the teachers made me feel like they were leaving her out, as they would have to pick her up. I said fuck this and picked her up as if she was my child. I never left her out nor did the other classmates, but she and I were extremely close.

I remember our 5th grade year, she was out for what seemed like forever for some surgery that had her in a halo. She would write letters to the class and explain what she was going through. Always would single my name out in it saying call me, or whatever else that she felt was needed to be said.

As the years go on, her and I have had apart time, but in high school we where reunited I remember seen her for the first time in 3 years, we talked on the phone, but we did not see each other in person. Her coming down the hall way the happiness that she showed in seen me again. Made me feel like this friendship would never end. Until that day in dec 2019. The best friend that we had so much plans with was gone. Gone without a goodbye.

Never was would touch anything that wasn't alive in the fear my father put in me as a young child. That didn't keep me from loving cemeteries and other crazy things in that nature.

I went to the viewing only because of a sweet lady who took me in after a bad first impression. Dragged me into the place and in the room where she was all dressed up for her homecoming party. Sitting there speaking to the family in caught up on times, and love that she would always share in raising her niece and nephews. And hugging her sisters. Without a tear walked away and lose it when got in the car.

The next day at her memorial, she sent off. I walked into a church where she was the loudest member, so I was told. Not knowing where to sit, I just found a corner and sat there. As the service was about to start, her family asked me to join them in walking up to her, I never kissed a person that was passed away, but for the first time I learned in and gave her a kiss and said see you soon.

I sat with the family and listened to all the kind words about this sweet soul that was to perfect to be here on earth. Then the pastor was starting the service in he mention me in such a strange way. In the post I made in the day of her passing, I had a picture that internet tagged him in it as he was in the picture too. He said I don't have anyone of her color on my pages. I looked around, and I was the only white person there, and sitting with the family at that. He said that is how I found out our sweet Rachel went home. I felt so embarrassed, but felt all so proud. Like said in her booklet in honoring her the last statement said Devoted High School Friend and my name. I was thinking good enough. As they closed the casket and drove her off to where she was going, I cried shock the families hands the walked away.

Now years later life has never been the same, don't feel like nothing is right or nothing is wrong. Then next blog in the day of losing my homie.

Thanks for reading

We can change the world with starting with ourselves. Be kind to the world, and everyone around it we all going through something in life that is hard for one person and easy for another. we are all here to help one another learn and grow

[theatrekidmonologues]

Dear Zachary (Performance Script)

By Kurt Kuenne

My name's Kurt, and I'm a filmmaker.  So I decided to make  this movie because I wanted to learn everything that there was to know about the guy and to make one last movie with him.  So I started at home  and, as soon as I could, I grabbed a camera. And said... Action! 

Now how would I describe Andrew to someone who had never met him? The man never wore pants. He only wore shorts. Graduation, he was in shorts. Prom, Shorts. Church, Halloween, all of Winter. Shorts. That’s why I’m making this movie. You’ve got to know the whole truth about Andrew.

There are some things you should know about Andrew: He was the most determined person I ever met about being a doctor. His go to move with the ladies was to tell them how much he knew about the birth control pill. His mom was a nurse and when they had dinner they’d discuss venereal disease. Fun. Andrew was also great at pool, quite frankly he was a pool shark. Well, he had a great teacher. But yeah, I probably owe him about $30,000 dollars. Everyone wanted Andrew to be their best man. Because that’s who Andrew was, he was the best man. And if he got married I really hoped to be his best man and give my toast to tell him “Why am I standing up here? We’re brothers. And I love you. And I know you love me. Yeah, and I’m a male and we don’t gush that much. So let's get drunk and party!”

He appeared in every movie I made growing up. And I know I drove him nuts sometimes. I’d say, Could you do that one more time? - One more time. Okay, one more time. One more time. That was perfect. Okay, one more time. He loved playing bad guys... Shut up! Jeff, get the cocaine. A free pass to smoke and swear in front of his parents. F you! F all you f-ing people! I did not say the F-word. 

Andrew came into the shop one day, and said he had two English nurses who wanted to go to Disneyland. So I took the little one and left him with the tall one. But the girls were too short to ride the rides. And we were too cheap to pay their cab fare back home. So they didn't work out so well, but we did. Andrew was always picking up girls. Girls that were never going to work out. 

The day Shirley showed up, Andrew said, "You'll never guess who showed up on my doorstep "The psychotic witch." And I told him, I said, "You know, Andrew, when I break up with somebody and put them on a plane and send them 1,300 miles away, they knock on my front door, I'm going out the back door and I'm calling the police." I said, "Andrew." "Be serious. Nobody drives 16 hours after you've just broken up with them." I said, "Do not meet her in private." He said, "What can happen?"

Shirley. Shirley? I couldn't figure out who she was in relation to Andrew since Andrew talked a lot about women but never really mentioned her. A summary of the evidence against Shirley Turner. He was found dead after being shot five times. That didn't sound random. That sounded like rage and vengeance.  I've never hated like that. Rage. Absolute vicious rage. I thought it was crazy. This should never be, this should never have been. I thought it was insane, I mean who the hell is the system protecting. I couldn’t believe what was happening. Someone has done that to someone you love. If the person who did this had been here, I'd kill them. Period. No questions. Kill them! Strangle them right here, right now! Period. No questions. Kill them! On November 14, 2002, Judge Derek Green declared Shirley guilty and ordered her incarcerated. Zachary, you'll never know what you missed. And I can remember Andrew saying, "If I die tomorrow, all I want you to do is sit and toast a beer to me." We have one remaining. To Andrew, my good friend, I can't wait to see you again.

Hello Zachary. First of all I’ve seen your pictures and you look just like Andrew. For better or worse. And you’re not going to grow up with your biological father, but you’re going to grow up with all the people who loved him and that makes you the luckiest little boy in the world. And if you ever need anything, I’m not far away and when you’re old enough and you watch this, you should know that you’re loved and I love you and I care about the person you’re going to become and if you’re anything like Andrew, you’re going to be great.

[breanime]

His Vows (with Bonus Boy)

Pure fluff ahead!

Billy Russo: Never in a million years did Billy ever think he’d be marrying someone--much less someone he actually loved. Affection, loyalty, vulnerability, those things that were required for love came hard to him. And yet, with you, he felt them. Looking at you made him feel incredibly strong and somehow especially weak, like he could take on the world, but only if you were by his side. The orphan in him wanted to spend thousands on your wedding, wanted to make a statement, a declaration for everyone to see. But the man in him knew better. The man in him--only recently discovered through your support--didn’t need to impress strangers, didn’t need the approval of his “betters”. He only needed you. So as Billy stood in front of the judge, Frank and Curtis at his side, your parents and best friend behind you, he knew this was right. You told him you didn’t want a big wedding, didn’t need the fanfare, and that alone was enough to make Billy, over 100 confirmed kills under his belt, fall to his knees in devotion. You only wanted him. He reached out then, taking your hand in his, and let the small audience around you fade into the background. “Despite what my guys at Anvil might say,” he began with a slight smirk, “I’m not really one for speeches,” he paused, hearing Frank’s scoff and Curtis’ chuckle, before going on, “so I’ll keep this brief. I never thought I’d have this. Growing up, my only goal was to become somebody, and even then, that was more about proving something to myself than anything else. But then I met you. And damn,” he shook his head, his smirk turning into a rare, genuine smile, “if you didn’t change everything. So thank you. Thank you for making me into the man I am today, and thank you for staying with me, working with me, being so patient with me. I love you, and I promise, from this day forward, I will do everything in my power to make sure you’re the happiest person on the planet,” he looked into your shining eyes, a sense of certainty going through him, an instinctual push that let him know that he was doing the right thing, “I love you, and I’m so happy to be your husband.”

Logan Delos: As soon as you and Logan had walked down the aisle, officially man and wife, Logan pulled you away. “Logan,” you laughed as he led you down a hall, “what are you doing?” “I’m having a private moment with my wife,” he answered, opening a door and pulling you into the spare room with him, “My wife. Mrs. Logan Delos,” he grinned down at you, “Fuck... How’d I get so lucky?” You laughed, and Logan reached over and held your face in his hands, staring down at the rest of his life. “I’m serious... How did I get so lucky? I mean... I’m a perpetual fuck up, the bane of my father’s existence and still, despite all of that... I got you,” he sighed sweetly, “I love you, princess. I’m gonna love you till the day I die, and maybe even after that too,” he smiled at your responding laugh, “Definitely after that. Fuck,” he let out a breath, laughing at the end of it, “I just... I just won at life, babe. I mean--look at you. Look at us! I always thought I’d spend the rest of my life in-between lovers, just waking up smothered in a sea of dicks and--” “--You realize we’re in a church, right?” You deadpanned. He laughed--Logan laughed a lot when he was with you--and he leaned down and kissed you, his tongue slipping into your mouth as you moaned against his lips. “Ah ah,” he teased, pulling back with a smirk, “you know we’re in a church, right? But seriously, babe... I never thought I’d be a one-woman guy. But you... You’re all that I want. You’re everything. You just... You just came into my life and changed everything. I was just running around, fucking around... and you just burst in and gave me... Purpose,” he sighed happily, “It wasn’t until I met you that I realized why I was put on this earth. I was born to be yours. I was born to marry you and love you and take care of you, and I will,” he leaned down and kissed you now, his kiss soft and slow, nothing but love in his touch, “I will.... So now, let’s go get drunk and dance so we can get out of here, and I can really show you how I feel.”

Jax Teller: “I promise to treat you as good as my leather,” Jax recited, that famous Teller smirk on his face. You laughed as the room erupted in cheers and applause, and Jax kissed you. He was smiling when he pulled back, those blue eyes of his twinkling with love for you and you alone. “I really lucked out when you agreed to be my Old Lady,” he said, his voice making the laughs die down, all eyes on him, “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life... especially with love,” he admitted, “I was stubborn and ignorant and lost, but even through all that... You were there. You kept me grounded, you showed me what it meant to be a man and an outlaw, taught me how to reconcile those parts of myself, and for that... I’ll always be grateful to you, darlin’. You understand me--all the parts of me. I don’t ever have to worry about how to tell you things, or keep things from you. You get the club life. You support me. Hell,” he chuckled, “even my Mom likes you, and we all know what a tough sell she is.” The crowd laughed, and when you glanced over at Gemma, she had tears in her eyes. She gave you a small, approving nod, and that, coupled with Jax’s words, had you crying too. Jax laughed, gently reaching out and wiping your tears away with his thumb, “I love you. And I’m gonna love you for the rest of my life. No matter what life throws at us, I know we can handle it. You and me... we’re meant to be together, baby. We’ve been through enough to know that that’s true,” he smiled down at you, a soft, special smile on his face that was just for you, “I know everyday isn’t gonna be perfect. There’s gonna be times when we argue, but I promise you--here and now, in front of everyone we love, that I will never go to bed angry at you. I promise to always do whatever it takes to make sure you’re safe, and happy, and protected,” he leaned a little closer to you, every inch of him devoted to you and you alone, “I promise that I will be the husband and the man you deserve. And, most importantly... I promise to ride you as much as my Harley.” The room erupted in laughter again, and you were still laughing--and crying--when your husband kissed you again. You knew, from that kiss, that he would keep his promises to you. Every single one. 

Coco Cruz: “I’m not... I’m not fucking great at this,” Coco began, his hands in yours, his eyes darting around the room, “You know, public speaking and all that shit... But, uh, I think it’s important to, uh... To speak my truth, so...” He took a breath, and you squeezed his hands in yours, and that was enough to calm his raging heart. Coco looked at you, his wife, and felt a completeness that he’d never imagined he’d feel in his life. He swallowed, willing himself to speak. “Everybody knows that, when I became a Mayan, when I joined the MC, it changed my life. I was in a bad place, you know? Just came back from Iraq, my mind was all messed up. But the MC helped me get right, you know? And then there was you, and all of a sudden, I realized... I was made for you,” he leaned forward a bit, swaying as he spoke, his hair blocking everyone but you from his sight, “I used to think my life was just some sick fucking joke. Then, when I became a Mayan, I thought it was all about being a warrior, being a brother--and it is. But there’s more to it then that. I didn’t realize until I met you, but... I was born to be with you. From the second I saw you, I knew I needed you. I need you way more than you need me,” he smiled, a soft chuckle coming from his lips, “It’s true,” he turned, addressing his brothers, “You guys remember what it was like, right? When we first started dating?” He was met with low murmurs and laughter. “I was a fucking mess,” he laughed, “I kept asking Taza and Hank how to be a good boyfriend. And somehow Angel ended up giving me advice, which was basically just ‘man up’,” he chuckled, his eyes twinkling as he looked at you, “I just... I just need to say, you’re perfect. And I know you don’t like when I say that, but it’s true. You’re perfect to me. Even when you’re a fucking raging psychopath,” he chuckled at your fake incredulous look, “you’re perfect. You help me see past the bullshit, help me see that life don’t just gotta be some fucking struggle... You make me happy, man. So happy. And I just want to make you happy, too. I want to be a good husband to you, and I’m gonna try. And even on days when shit ain’t perfect, I will still love you with all my heart, so...” He took a breath, his heart pounding as he looked down at you, his perfect person, his wife. “... Let’s fucking party!” You laughed, wiping your happy tears as the room erupted in cheers and the sounds of beer bottles clanking together. This was the first day of the rest of your life, and you couldn’t be happier for it. 

Angel Reyes: Angel sighed, his eyes welling up with tears. “This,” he began, stopping when he heard the sound of his own voice breaking. He cleared his throat, “This is... This isn’t how I imagined it. Like, when I was a kid, I mean. Like, not to be soft and everything, but... I used to think about this day, you know? Me marrying some dope girl, being in love, my family here to celebrate. So I mean... I’m happy,” he nodded, “I’m so... Man, I’m so happy. I didn’t think it was possible to be this happy, just... I feel like... Like I was incomplete before this, you know? Like this woman... she’s the other part of my soul. And I’m so happy, it’s crazy. It’s scary. I keep waiting to mess it up, keep waiting to say or do something to bring it all crumbling down, but... it won’t. I trust that it won’t,” he nodded again, meaning the words he spoke with all of his heart. Angel reached out, his fingers--adorned with no other ring but his wedding ring--brushing against his mother’s altar, “Watching you and Pop... I always wanted a love like yours, and now I got it, and I’m so happy, Ma... I am, but,” he blinked, the first tear falling, “...but I wish you were here to see it. I wish you could have met her; I wish she could have met you. You would have loved her, Ma. Pops loves her, EZ loves her--I tell her about you, but... But it’s not the same,” he wiped his tear, shaking his head a bit, “I know you’re looking down at us from Heaven, I know you see us, see her,” he sniffled, swallowing his tears, “And that’s good enough for me,” he chuckled lowly, “I know you saw when we first met, saw me pulling that machismo crap, trying to impress her. You saw it ain’t work, either,” he laughed again, “I bet it was you that gave me the idea to bring her lunch at work, wasn’t it? Yeah... That has you written all over it, Ma,” he tapped her urn, smiling warmly at the memories, “I love her so much... And I know you would have loved her, too. I just... I want to be a good husband to her... a good father---someday--to our kids,” he took a breath, “So, Ma, please... Be with me now like you were with me when I proposed, give me that same courage and certainty you gave me before, yeah? Cause in a minute, I’m about to go out there in front of all our family and friends, and I’m about to commit myself to this woman for the rest of my life, and I... I need you with me, Mami,” satisfied, he kissed two fingers and pressed them against his mother’s urn, “Thank you.” He straightened up, fixing his hair and wiping his eyes again. Nodding to himself, he walked off, murmuring, “Good chat...” all the way to the altar. 

Miguel Galindo: “I am not a man who can easily admit he was wrong,” Miguel began, chuckling along with the rest of the church at his words, “Okay,” he admitted, shaking his head a bit, “I never admit I was wrong,” he paused, looking into your eyes, and he felt that familiar tug in his chest that he always felt when he looked at you--pure love. “But I was wrong. As many of you know, I was married once before. And I thought that I’d spend the rest of my life with that person. I was wrong,” he reached out for your hand, taking it in his, the warmth of it spreading through his entire body, all the way into his heart, “I was wrong, and I have never been happier to admit that. Because from that failure, came you. And I’m thankful for you every moment of every day,” he smiled, and your heart flipped in your chest at the sight of your soon-to-be-husband, “It isn’t easy to be with me, I know,” he nodded, giving you a silent acknowledgment, “But you... You just know me. You know how to read me, how to get me to talk when I don’t want to,” he laughed, “how to shut me up when I want to talk... I’m at your mercy. And what’s more,” he leaned forward a bit, “...I like it,” his smile widened at the sight of yours, “I remember the day that I realized that I needed you in my life for the long haul. It was when we flew to Iceland. You fell asleep against my shoulder. You were so tired... And I was too. I was frustrated and tired and irritated, but when I looked down at you... Mi amor, I felt nothing but gratefulness. Grateful to have you in my life, grateful to be able to have you by my side, to have you as mine. I’ve been blessed with many great things; a wonderful son, multiple successful businesses, a beautiful home... But it’s you, my love, you who makes me take a step back and really see how lucky I am. Because all of the money in the world would mean nothing if I didn’t have you to share it with,” he reached out and wiped your budding tears, smiling fondly at you, “I love you,” was all he said before he was kissing you, and the resulting applause blooming around you was nothing but white noise with Miguel’s lips against yours. He whispered something against your lips as the church applause your love, just a short, simple sentence that had you crying with love. “Thank you, mi amor, for proving me wrong.”

Nick Amaro: “Gil and Zara and I are so happy to welcome you into our family,” Nick said, giving a special smile to ring-bearer Gil and flower-girl Zara, both of whom grinned back at him, Zara flashing you a quick wave, “Gil keeps saying that I took too long, and Zara says I should have just married you months ago, and they’re both right,” he laughed, “But I wanted to give you this--the wedding, the reception--because I know this is important to you. It’s important to me, too,” he took a breath, looking down at your intertwined fingers before looking up again, smiling at your beautiful face, “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, my career, but you...” He sighed happily, “I know I can get in my own head a lot, but somehow, with you... It just seems like everything falls into place. I mean... That’s your power. You just make everything seem so easy. I see you with the kids, with your job, with me,” he chuckled, “And it’s like you instinctively know what to do, how to handle me. You make it look easy, and you can ask Olivia, dealing with me, isn’t easy.” He looked over at Olivia, her eyes shining with approval as she watched you together. “But you do. For good or bad, better or worse,” he took your hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to the back of it, “I love you. Completely. Totally. And I’m going to continue on loving you until the day I die,” his smile reached his eyes, and they shimmered with love for you, “And probably even after that, to be honest. Every morning when I wake up and see your face, when I hear you and the kids laughing, when I see the joy you bring into our lives... It makes me feel so... secure,” he nodded, pleased at his choice of words, “And you know better than anyone how hard that is for me: to feel secure. You just... You make everything easier, more manageable... And everything I do from here on out is for you and the kids. I love you...Mrs. Amaro.”

Johnny Tuturro: Johnny couldn’t stop smiling. His mom was there, his Graceland family was there, and most importantly--the future Mrs. Johnny Tuturro was standing in front of him, just minutes away from becoming his wife. “Alright, alright, alright,” Johnny began, “Everybody shut up, I got somethin’ to say!” Jakes groaned in the crowd, “Jesus, Johnny, then just say it!” “Don’t rush him,” you called back, giving Jakes a friendly glare. Johnny laughed, kissing your cheek, “Thank you, baby,” he stood up straight, “Look, anyone with eyes can see that my girl is fly,” he started, making everyone laugh, “But for real, the moment I saw her, I knew she was different. I mean, she’s gorgeous, yeah, but she’s also smart, brave, a certified badass--sorry for cussin’, Ma--and the love of my life,” he smiled down at you, eyes soft, “I love you, I love you, I love you. And I am so happy to be making you my wife,” he turned pointing off into the audience at Briggs, “Which by the way--ha HA! I knew she wouldn’t go for you! Best bet I ever took, seeing which one of us was gonna get your number... though I ain’t gonna lie, you had me scared for a moment there when you started getting chummy with Charlie,” he chuckled, “But I was the lucky one. That was the start of the rest of my life, and I want to make every day we have together a perfect day. No matter what life throws at us, what happens at work, what we go through as people or as a couple, we’re always gonna have each other’s backs. Me and you,” he went on, “We were meant to be, baby. Fated. And baby, I promise you, I will be the best husband I can be. Because that’s what you deserve. And as happy as I am to be here with you right now, in front of all of our friends and families... Man, I can’t wait to get out of here and just be with you,” he grinned, and you could see the dirty promise behind those sweet words, “I’m crazy about you, baby girl, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you,” he leaned in, kissing you, his next words whispered, so only you could hear him, “can’t wait to have married sex in the limo, either...” 

Rio: When you woke up, the late morning sun painting your body in its light, the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was Rio’s eyes. They were soft and warm, that deep brown peering down at you and making you feel like the most beloved person on the planet. Which, of course, you were. “So?” He asked, caressing the side of your face with two of those long, sinewy fingers. “So what?” You asked, already in a daze from the softness of his voice and the sweet smile on his face. “So what do you think? How’d the first night of matrimony go? You ready to give back my dowry yet? Sell me back to my father?” You laughed, cuddling closer to him. “Nah, I think I’ll keep you. I mean, you did come with a cow and two chickens, so I guess you’re worth it.” He wrapped his arms around you, and you closed your eyes, melting into his touch. “I love you,” he said, his voice muffled as he buried his face in the crown of your head. “Love you, too,” you said back, rubbing his back. “Hey,” he pulled back a bit, looking down at you, “Yesterday was perfect,” he began, “The wedding, the reception... I ain’t never seen Marcus so excited to talk as he was when he gave his speech.” “Oh, don’t remind me,” you sighed, smiling at the memory, “I cried so hard; it was such a good speech.” “Yeah,” he nodded, kissing your forehead, “He was so proud to be able to tell you how much he loves you,” Rio sighed, “but, here’s the thing, mama... There was one thing about yesterday that I wish I could change.” You frowned, “What?” “I kinda wish we would’ve done vows,” he admitted. “Really?” You asked, eyes wide. You and Rio had decided early on not to have vows, you’d both agreed that it was so private, you didn’t want to make a spectacle out of your love. But hearing him say that he’d wished he’d given you his vows had your heart pounding. He nodded, “Yeah. So... I was thinkin’... Maybe I could say my vows now. I mean, I ain’t write nothing down or anything, but I just wanted to say... I love you. I love what you’ve done to me, to Marcus... I love the way you brighten up my life, how you accepted my son with open arms, how you work so well with me, the way you inspire me, the way you make me want to flip my game. I love how I can tell you everything, how I never have to hide any parts of myself with you,” he titled your chin up, smiling down at you, “I love having you as my wife. I love you, Mrs. Rivera.” He kissed you then, and you kissed him back, sighing against his lips, pressing yourself against him. “So,” he grinned, “How was that? Decent vows?” You laughed, kissing his nose, “Perfect.”

Bonus Boy

Tommy Shelby: “I have something I want to say,” Tommy announced. Everyone in the church grew silent, and you couldn’t help but notice the small smile on Jeremiah’s face as he turned to you. Every eye was on you, and you turned to Tommy, curious as to what he was about to say. “I want it known,” he started, his voice booming through the church, “That this is the last time I’m ever getting married, because this is the woman I was always meant to be with,” he looked over at you, those brilliant blue eyes piercing right through your soul, “Me whole life, I’ve spent planning, thinking, rethinking. Every move I’ve made as a businessman has been a calculated one, but with you,” he said, his focus on you and you alone, “It’s all instinct. I don’t have to overthink or second guess with you, because I can feel that you’re what’s right. You’re what’s been missing. And now that I have you... Well, there’s peace. Peace in me head and me heart that I thought had left for good. And I have you to thank for that. So now, I want to make you a promise, and I want to make it in front of all of our family and friends, because if nothing else, I know Aunt Pol, Jeremiah, and our Ada will make sure I keep it,” he gave you a small smile, and just that one gesture was enough to have you nearly swooning, “So here it is. I promise, from this moment, till the day I die, to always love, honor, and respect you. I will never lie to you, I will never leave you. I am yours,” he promised, “Every part of me; even the parts I don’t like, belong to you. And everyone,” his voice got a bit louder, and he turned a bit, addressing the crowd, “will know that you are Mrs. Tommy Shelby, and they will treat you accordingly.” You smiled; his words were as much an announcement as a threat. “Now, Jeremiah,” he said, a friendly note coming back into his voice, “Let’s get on with this ceremony, eh? I want to take my bride to London.” 

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[dreamescapeswriting]

The Best Life ~ HJS [Request]

WORD COUNT: 3.3K

GENRE: arranged marriage AU, toxic family, 

PAIRING: Jisung x Reader

A/N: I am far from the Angst queen but I hope you enjoy this sweetie

All your life things had been planned out for you, from the moment you could walk everything was set in stone by your family and you weren't in control of anything around you. From the way, you wore your hair your clothes, when you could speak and what you could do with your life. There was no control for you, the only control you had was when you could go to the bathroom and even that was timed sometimes by your family members. It seemed as though everyone else was in charge of your life while you sat there and watched everything happening around you like some kind of television show so when it came to an arranged marriage there were no surprises to you. It was only a matter of time until your family decided who you would marry and now it was that time, they'd arranged for you to marry someone called Han Jisung and that was all you knew about him, well that was all your family thought you knew about him but you'd done your research and snooped around as much as you could.

Apart from being one of the richest families in Seoul, there wasn't much to Han Jisung besides a few stories about who he was sleeping with, going to parties with and who he was friends with. It seemed as though he led a free life, something you were jealous of but if marrying him meant you even got half as much as his freedom you would take him in a heartbeat. 

"Are you sure this is the one?" Your sister's nasal-toned voice asked as you stood in the dressing room, the day before your wedding and you were trying on a brand new dress because the first one wasn't "right". Meaning that because you had been the one to pick it that it wasn't good at all. It was the way it always worked. 

"I'm sure of it, I picked it out myself." Your mother said proudly as you looked at yourself in the mirror, it was a beautiful gown but you were never going to admit to liking it. Liking it meant that they would take it away from you, you weren't allowed to have the things you liked in life. 

"Come out Y/n, not all of us have all day." Your mother barked as you glanced over your shoulder at the lady who had helped you get dressed that day she looked just as worried as you did about your mother but this was nothing new to you. Having her decide your every thought and action was nothing new so the fact that she was deciding your wedding dress was acceptable. Taking one last look at yourself you ran your hand down the ballgown and smiled to yourself.  It was a strapless bodice with a plunging necklace, tulle covering everything that needed to be cover and the top looked as though it was a corset. It had white and ivory beading around it to make it look more detailed and the fabrics were a mixture of lazy tulle and Royal organza. Thin layers of lace ranged from the bodice and extended of your hips and sides of the wedding gown, it was ultra-lightweight which meant it was going to be easy for you to walk down the aisle in. Tripping was one less thing you had to worry about. 

Stepping out from the curtain you kept your expression blank and your mouth shut as you stepped in front of your mother and sister waiting for them to say something. In your life, it was spoken when spoken to and never say something unless they've asked for you to say something first. 

"Turn," Your sister barked at you following in her mother's footsteps of giving you orders, you did a small and slow turn waiting for their input before you hear a sniffle coming from your mum. You glanced at her without saying a word knowing that if you even so much as tried to ask what was wrong the blame would be passed onto you.

"It's the perfect gown," She blew her nose into tissue as your sister hugged her from the side, the two of them crying together. 

"She does look beautiful," Your whole body tensed as you heard the bridal worker mention that you were beautiful or even acknowledge that you were the one in the gown, you stared at her with your eyes widened in fear but not for yourself, for her.

"You should be the one in the dress mum, not her but tomorrow will be perfect I promise," You let out a sigh of relief as your sister and mother seemed to ignore the worker's comment. The wedding wasn't about you, it was never going to be about you, it was about your mother and what her wedding should have been. It was the reason the venue had changed almost six times, why your dress was changed around twenty and why the groom was someone your mother picked. It was all about her, never about you. 

"Change. We have the rehearsal dinner in an hour." Your mother snapped as she looked up at you, your stomach growled at the mere thought of food. She'd had you on this crazy diet regime since she found out when the wedding was going to be, she wanted you to look the best of the best.

"Don't even think about it. You'll be having a salad and a drink, that's all you're allowed!" Without another word you walked back behind the curtain waiting for the worker to come and undo the buttons at the back of the dress.

"She seems strict," She whispered to you as soon as the curtain was pulled closed, your eyes stared up into hers in the mirror debating if you could speak without your mother hearing you but you just nodded at her before staring down at the floor. It was better safe than sorry.

Jisung stared at you as he watched you staring down at the plate in front of you, you hadn't said a word to him since arriving at the restaurant and it was beginning to bug him. Normally the girl he was seeing would be talking his ear off trying to get to know every little thing about him and his family but you didn't seem to care.

"I heard you got another wedding dress today, is this one finally "the one"?" Your father in law was just trying to make some light-hearted conversation but Jisung rolled his eyes at the mention of yet another dress. It wasn't your family's money that you were wasting trying on all the different dresses and playing dress-up with all he could think about was how you were using them for his money. Glancing to your mother to see if you had permission to speak you smiled weakly, 

"Yes, the perfect dress for tomorrow.” It wasn’t a lie, it truly was the perfect dress something you would have picked out for yourself given you had the choice in your life. 

“Better be, for the price of it,” Jisung grumbled loud enough for only you to hear, you glanced at him wondering what had gotten his panties in a bunch but he shot you a glare. There was no secret that Jisung had a strong disliking for you but from what your family put him through you didn't blame him, constantly spending his money, changing everything around the wedding and hardly speaking when he was around.

“What’s the point in buying all of the different dresses if none of them was right for you?” He questioned as soon his father began talking with your mother about church arrangements, you looked down at the glass of water in front of you it wasn't like he would understand if you told him or even believe you. 

“A girl has to be sure," You lied speaking in just below a whisper just in case your mother had started paying attention, she'd made a rule of not speaking until she gave you permission. As soon as you and Jisung were married you could do whatever it was you wanted, speak whenever you wanted since having a divorce wasn't going to be an option. She didn't care if you messed things up after the wedding, it was before that she cared about. The wedding was for them, they needed the money and you out of their hair, it was all a convenience for them. Your heart sank inside of you as you caught your sister watching you from across the table, her husband mumbled something about you speaking without permission, it appeared everyone was included in giving you orders. You stared down at the table and began sipping on the water, poking at the salad in front of you and waiting for the whole evening to be over but it seemed to be dragging on. 

"Have you written your own vows or are you going to read the originals?" Jisung's mother questioned when she noticed how awkward things seemed to be between you and her son but you looked at your mother before speaking. 

"We're going to be writing our own," Your head snapped to your mother as well as Jisung's, neither of you knew one another well enough to write your own vows so you were just as shocked as he each other upon hearing your mother say that. 

"We are?" You stumbled out without thinking, silencing yourself as soon as you saw a death glare come in your direction,

"It's a tradition in our family," Your mother said through gritted teeth, taking your hand in hers and squeezing so tightly you thought it was cutting off the circulation to your fingers which didn't go unnoticed by Jisung. His eyes stared down at your hand as he frowned to himself wondering why your mother was the one taking charge of everything, why you would look at her before speaking there was something that didn't add up for him. 

Lingering behind after the rehearsal dinner Jisung took you from behind dragging you over to the toilets and it didn't go unnoticed by your mother who was beginning to panic on the inside that something was going on.

"Do you even want this?" The sudden question made you stare up at Jisung, he was red in the face from walking over to you and it looked as though he was angry about something. 

"Yes, of course," You knew you were going to have to say everything you could to make him stay, if he tried to leave now everything would be blown. You would rather take your chances in a marriage where you don't truly love someone than staying with a toxic family that hated your guts. 

"Why? You don't know me, I don't know you." Your heart was beginning to pump faster, so fast you could practically feel the blood running through your veins as you stared up at him with worry clear on your face.

"We know each other, I know everything about you." It wasn't a lie, you knew everything there was to know about him from the internet but he knew nothing about you, not the real you. He only knew the version your family perceived you to be and that was far from who you really were. 

"You're so sheltered," He sighed as he looked at you, glancing to your mother when he noticed how uneasy you seemed to become without her around. 

"We should take Y/n home, it's a big day for you both tomorrow." The fake sincerity in your sister's tone sent shivers down your spine but you flinched as she touched you, moving away from her so you wouldn't have to deal with her cold touch. Within seconds you were being dragged over to your mother who began dragging you out of the restaurant and towards her car, lecturing you about wandering off unattended.

The next day was supposed to be the best day of your life and yet you were sitting in your wedding dress in your changing room trying not to cry. You'd been woken up early and pushed around from stylist to stylist before finally arriving at the old church your mother had picked out. The altar was decorated to perfection which of course, lead to the comments about how you were never going to match something so perfect and the church outdid everything you were trying to do.

"It's not right," Your mother hissed at you as you raised to your feet waiting for her to nitpick at every detail about that day, your makeup was done the way she wanted, your hair was styled the way she had chosen everything was the way she wanted except for one important thing. It wasn't her getting married. It wasn't her that was going to stand up there in front of everyone and have the wedding of her dreams it was you.

"She won't be our problem in a few hours, we won't have to deal with her." Your father spoke as though you weren't even in the room, the way they always did. It was demeaning and made you feel as though you were nothing but something they had stepped in. That was the one thought getting you through the whole thing, the one thought that was going to keep you strong as you walked down that aisle and into a whole new life. Into your freedom. You'd decided the night before that once you were married you would tell Jisung the truth about everything, about why you were so quiet and what your parents were really like and pray that the two of you could at least be friends. You didn't need a husband and it was clear he did not want a wife.

Organs began to play inside the double doors and you knew it was time to start walking, your father linked his arm with yours as he glanced down at you. 

"You better not trip, this wedding is everything." While normal daughters would exchange fond words with their father yours reminded you that you were imperfect and that he couldn't wait to get rid of you. 

"Head up, back straight, don't slouch," He mumbled before the doors opened but it wasn't the reaction you were hoping to get, a room filled with people and yet they were all whispering and gasping to one another. Your eyes wandered over everyone as you slowly walked up the aisle until you realised what was so shocking to them all. Jisung was nowhere to be seen. His father was seen mumbling to your mother about something before storming out of the church and your father left you standing at the altar to be gawked at as though you were some kind of animal in a zoo. Your sister smirked from the sidelines as she saw your eyes beginning to well up at the thought of being stood up on your own wedding day. 

"We appreciate everyone coming out today," Your father stood in front of you as he began addressing the full church, everyone exchanging comments about what they thought could have possibly happened between you and Jisung for you to be stood up but you were wondering the same thing. 

"Did you say something?!" Your mother screamed as soon as the church was empty everyone had left one by one but not before gawking some more as you stood at the top of the altar, forced to watch as your freedom slowly seeped away from you. Your parents had been yelling accusations at you since the moment the guests all left, you didn't know what to do. Your only means of escape were gone and you had nothing left to loose, you were already a shell of a person. 

"God knows what you said to him last night, something that humiliated us no doubt!" Your father snapped as he threw his hands up into the air, Jisung stopped just outside the door as he heard the yells coming from inside. He had come to speak to you alone thinking your parents would leave you alone for a while but all he could hear was yells. 

"It's your fault he left, you know! You're nothing but a no-good piece of trash!" Jisung flinched for you as he heard your father scream once again he felt his heart sink as he realised why you had been so insistent on the married,

"I did everything to make this perfect for you! I did everything! Everything was perfect except for you!" Their words began to build up and build up until you felt as though you were going to burst with anger. 

"What did I do that made you hate me so much?! What is so wrong with me?" You finally yelled out, staring back at them as they gave you a look of shared shock.

"We took you in! We loved and raised you!" Your mother scoffed at you, 

"Love?! That's what you call love?! Training me never to speak unless spoken to, punishing me whenever I expressed myself!" Everything was finally bursting out of you and you were no longer able to control your feelings.

"I have no freedom! You've kept me in a cage my entire life!" Jisung's hand rested on the door as he waited to see if he should come in, he was impressed to hear that you were standing up for yourself. 

"You should be grateful that we even dealt with you for so long! you're ungrateful," The door opened and you stared at Jisung in fear that he had heard everything that was going on, 

"After everything we've done for you, this is how you show us you're grateful!" You said nothing in response to your mother but Jisung did, he began walking down the aisle and took you by the hand.

"Kids don't need to be grateful! They need to be loved and shown how to live in a world," Your father stepped forward to say something but Jisung slowly tucked you behind his body. 

"You have no idea what-"

"Don't raise your voice at me, Y/n and I are leaving." You frowned as Jisung began to walk you down towards the exit of the church, 

"Together?" You whispered just as confused as everyone else in the room seemed to be around you both,

"Blood is not thicker than peace of mind. Cut toxic family members out of your life," He wasn't speaking to everyone in the room he was speaking to you as he locked eyes with you, he could see how confused you were so he sent you a reassuring smile.

"I'm taking you away from them." He whispered as he began pulling you out of the church and into the parking lot, you didn't know where to start with the questions or if you ever wanted to question him. 

"Get in," He smiled opening the car door and glancing at you as he waited, the dress you were wearing was hiked up to your knees and you climbed inside, looking forward to whatever your life had planned for you with your new freedom. 

"Freedom looks good on you," Jisung chuckled as you laid on the beach, it had been months since your almost wedding and you'd never had to look back on your old family again. Jisung was your family now and he treated you better than anyone else in your life had before.

"It feels good on me too," You whispered turning to lay your head on his chest and look up at him, 

"You're happy, right?" You nodded at his question and he smiled again kissing your lips softly. The two of you began dating not long after leaving your family behind, he was happy to get to know the real you and you fell head over heels in love with one another from the moment you began running away together. He was taking you everywhere you'd ever wanted to go, looking after you the best that he could, making your life together the best it could possibly be.

Tagline: @taestannie​ @sw33tnight​ @acciocriativity​ @mwitsmejk​ @minholuvs​ @anxiousbobatea​ 

[spideyobsessed]

Before It’s Too Late - Prologue

peter parker x avenger!reader

Synopsis: With all the life changing events taking place, will you ever get to overcome some of your biggest fears?

Chapter one

“Come on, Y/n! Do it for me!” your best friend pleaded.

“I told you not at school! It’s not my fault you went out drinking on a Tuesday.” you scolded Gwen, who is being dramatic as always.

“Please! I’ll give you 5 dollars.” She clasps her hands together and pleads some more as she shoots you a sheepish smile. You let out a sigh and shake your head, knowing you’d give in to her eventually. “How about you just hand over your jello?” You bargain, doubting she even has money with her.

“Deal!” She cheers loudly before groaning and holding her head.

Ignoring your whiny friend, you scope out your area of the cafeteria. Once you were certain there were no eyes on you, you turn back to Gwen, “This is the last time I’m doing this at school.”

“Yeah yeah, just hurry!” She rushes.

You take a deep breath and focus all of your energy towards your hands. You place your fingertips on either side of Gwen’s head, a purple aura radiating from them. As the energy transfers from your fingers to her temples, you watch a wave of relief mask her face.

“Better?” You ask her, the purple already gone from your fingers. “So much better. Bless you, almighty Y/n!” Gwen bows her head and graciously hands you her jello cup. You let out a loud laugh before accepting the treat, “You are ever so welcome, peasant.” She shoves you slightly before joining you in laughter.

“I saw that, ya know?” A third voice suddenly appears.

Your eyes widen when you see who the voice belongs to. Michelle Jones. This girl notices everything and now she’s just seen you use your abilities. So dumb. So careless. How could I let her catch-

“See what, Mj?” Gwen interrupts your panicked train of thought.

The odd girl invites herself to sit at your table. She squints her eyes while looking back and forth between you and Gwen. “I saw how close you guys were just a minute ago. It just seemed like something is going on.” She speaks with subtle confidence, as if she just cracked a big case.

“What? Uh no. Nope. Nothing going on here, that’s crazy talk.” You chuckle nervously. The blonde girl besides you gives you a disappointed look, “Nice save.” You gulp hard and your palms being to sweat.

The secret is out. I’m done for. I’m going to live the rest of my life as a lab rat being poked and prodded every single day-

“I don’t know. Things just seemed kinda... fruity over here.” Your thoughts interrupted once more, this time by Mj and her idiotic comment. She and Gwen begin to laugh as you bury your face in your hands, your nerves settle, thankfully.

“Very funny, very funny.” Gwen manages to say through her laughing fit, “but we all know who Y/n really wants to swap spit with.” she points a finger.

You turn your head, and almost as if it was second nature, your eyes land on the guy you’ve been crushing on since 8th grade year.

Peter Parker.

You feel the heat spreading across your face and you’re sure your pupils are dilated out of this world, but none of it is enough to tear away your gaze. Gwen let’s out a high pitched “Aahh” as she attempts to replicate that of a beautiful church chorus (and does quite the opposite). You’ve learned to tune out your best friend’s theatrical tendencies.

The smallest smile creeps onto your lips as you watch him and his best friend, Ned, laugh and toss grapes into each other’s mouths. Gwen and Mj share a knowing glance before continuing their antics.

Look at him! The way he grabs his stomach when he laughs, the way his eyes crinkle in the corner when he smiles too wide, the way his curls droop over his forehead. He’s perfect... Oh no.

You whip your direction back to the girls next to you, “Is it that obvious? Does everyone really know I like him?” Your nerves return. “You only make it like super obvious, dude.” Mj snorts, stealing a fry from your tray. You sigh and start to pick at your rightfully earned jello.

“Too bad he doesn’t even know I exist.” You grumble, fully and shamelessly basking in your own self pity. “I can fix that,” Mj smirks, “Hey losers! Get over here!” She shouts from across the lunchroom.

She instantly captures the attention of Peter and Ned, who are obviously use to her ever so friendly nicknames, and everyone else in the cafeteria. You make brief eye contact with the curly haired boy and fight the urge to just melt in your seat.

Sweat starts to bead from your forehead as you turn to Mj and whisper harsh words of protests. “Just go with it, Y/n.” Gwen attempts to reassure you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Please please please don’t embarrass yourself, you thought as they approach your table.

“Yes, Mj?” Ned questions her with his eyes squinted. You can tell they’re both worried about what might come out of her mouth. Quite frankly, you are too! Mj has no filter and is too unpredictable.

You try to avoid making eye contact with Peter, which is really hard to do considering he’s standing right next to you. You smell the strong scent of cologne and suddenly your throat is drier than the Sahara Desert. You sit in silence as you fiddle with your fingers.

“You guys know Gwen and Y/n, right?” Mj speaks in her monotone voice as she points a thumb over to you and Gwen.

This brings out a loud chuckle from Ned, “Uh duh! Of course we know Gwen Stacy and Y/n Y/l/n.” You can’t help but tilt your head over to Gwen, who is just as confused as you, but seems to be entertained by the event unfolding before your eyes.

“What Ned means is, uh.. y-yes. We’ve seen you guys around. And totally not in a creepy way or anything. We’re not stalkers. I just mean I’ve seen you pass by my locker. Not that I was looking for you or anything. I-It’s just that- well...um. I’m gonna.. stop there.” Peter finally chimes in with a painfully awkward laugh, but you swear it’s music to your ears.

Mj clears her throat, “Anyway, it’s your lucky day, nerds. Liz is having a party this Friday and these ladies don’t have dates, so you’re gonna take them. Ned with Gwen and Peter with Y/n.”

While Mj sits back and watches in amusement as Peter and Ned take turns stuttering words of confusion and hesitation, you lean over to Gwen, “Are we just going to let her set us up with them?” “Shh. It’s getting good.” Gwen shushes you.

“Well what about you, Mj? Won’t you be like.. the fifth wheel?” Ned asks a pretty valid question.

“As a young woman, I will be attending the party alone because I refuse to contribute to today’s patriarchal society norms.” Mj answers the question, sounding even more serious than you thought was possible.

The four of you are left speechless, none of you really knowing how to respond to that subtly backhanded statement. Mj continues, “They’ll be ready by 8:00 though. So don’t be late.”

“Demanding much? What if we had plans on Friday?” Peter scoffs while crossing his arms over his chest.

“You two have plans on a Friday night that don’t include a lego death star?” Mj mirrors his actions, calling his bluff.

Peter trades a defeated look with Ned and drops his arms. “No.” he sighs. “Good! So like I said, 8 o’clock. You’re dismissed.” Mj asserts before waving them off.

You get a sudden jolt of confidence and shoot Peter a small smile. He gives you one in return as he walks away with Ned.

“Really?!” You slap your hand on the table as soon as you were sure the two boys were out of earshot. “I believe the words you’re looking for are “Thank you, Mj. You’re the best!” but whatever.” The sarcastic girl smiles, obviously satisfied with her ‘leadership skills’, as she likes to call it.

You could just burst with embarrassment, “Oh, I have a few words I want to say, alright.” However, the bell rings before you get the chance.

- - - - -

The final bell of the day had finally rung and you walk to your locker in a slump. You spent the last three hours replaying the impromptu game of matchmaker at lunch over and over again in your head.

I can’t believe Mj pulled that stunt, you thought, but why was he so against it? He probably doesn’t want to go with me.

You absentmindedly put away your books and shut your locker. As you begin to walk towards the exit, you don’t even realize that the boy you’re constantly thinking of was right next to you.

Peter jogs a bit to catch up with you. “Uh h-hey, Y/n.” he says timidly, his voice making you stop dead in your tracks.

Your eyes widen and your legs now feel weak once you realize it’s really him. “Peter, hi!” you practically yell. Don’t seem too excited! You cringe at your eagerness before giving him a more calming, “Hi.”

The two of you chuckle at how awkward you both are. After a few seconds of silence and avoided eye contact, Peter is the first to start a conversation. “So lunch was pretty...” “Interesting?” you finish his sentence. “You read my mind.” He breathes as he looks down at his shoes.

You take this as your chance to apologize for your very bold acquaintance friend’s behavior. “I’m really really sorry about Mj. I had no idea she was going to do any of that. You and Ned don’t have to take us, if you guys don’t want to.” You manage to push out in one breath.

“No, it’s okay! I know how Mj is.” He reassures you with the sweetest smile possible. “I actually came to ask you what you’re wearing on Friday. I wouldn’t want to be underdressed.”

Heat immediately rushes to your face. This is not a drill! Okay, okay. Just breathe. Be cool. “Uhm I really haven’t given it much thought yet.” You tried your best to keep your composure despite the happiness coursing through your body.

“Oh, that’s totally cool!” Peter hesitates for a moment before saying, “Maybe we could, ya know, trade numbers and you can let me know later.”

You nod your head, maybe one too many times. “Yes, I think that’s a great idea.” You tell him, unable to hide the big smile plastered across your face.

The two of you chuckle once again at the awkward, yet somehow endearing, tension as you switch phones.

I can’t believe this is happening.

You can’t help but take notice of almost every little detail.

Peter’s phone has a screen protector, but still has a good sized crack on the top left corner.

There’s several unread messages, emails, and missed calls.

His home screen is a picture of probably the most beautiful sunset you could get in Queens. And oddly enough, the picture looks like it was taken from the very top of one of the skyscrapers.

I wonder how he got this picture.

After taking in as much as you could, you finally put in the 10 digits of your number. You simply put your name in as “Y/n” and locked the phone, handing it back to Peter, who was taking his sweet time.

Once you got back your phone, you see that he did not keep it as simple as you did. He put his contact name as “Peter :)))” and somehow managed to take and upload a contact photo as well. You smile widely at the sight on your screen.

“Awesome! So I’ll... text you later?” You say more as a question, but Peter doesn’t seem to notice this. “Yes, later! Sounds great.” He smiles as he walks backwards in the opposite direction from you.

“Y-yeah, uh, later!” You say as you copy his actions and also begin to walk backwards. “Later.” Peter gives you that smile that you love so much. You quickly turn around before he could see you blush anymore than he already has. Anyone with decent eyesight can see that you ended the day happier than you started it.

Okay, okay. Thanks, Mj.

- - - - -

“Oh what’s that, Peter? You want my number?” You say out loud, reenacting your conversation with Peter just minutes ago. The stares of strangers walking by you go unnoticed because you’re in your own little world, thinking about the boy of your dreams asking for your number!

“I mean sure, but I can’t promise I’ll get to you right away. There’s just SO many people blowing up my phone.” You say with a sigh as you dramatically place the back of your hand to your forehead. Wow, I’ve been hanging around Gwen too much.

You laugh to yourself, and continue your routine trek home until you hear a faint cry. To your right is a little girl, no older than seven years old, sitting on the stoop of these apartment buildings. You take a quick glance around, checking for any adults she might belong to. When you see no one around, you decide to check on her. With caution, you stroll over to where she’s sitting, and it was in this moment that you realize she’s cradling a small kitten.

You crouch down to her level, “Hey, sweetie. What’s wrong?”

The young girl looks up at you with her big, tearful eyes and then back down at the kitten. You let her sniffle a few times and muster up the courage to speak. “It’s my kitty.” her voice cracks, “He’s really sick, but my mom said we can’t go to the vet.”

You look down at the poor cat. His fur is matted, his breathing is labored, and he looks as if he hasn’t been eating. You can’t help but pity the both of them.

She can barely finish her sentence before breaking down again. Instinct kicking in, you start to rub small circles on her back in order to comfort her, “Don’t cry, don’t cry. I can help him!” The child instantly perks up.

“How are you gonna do that?” She questions skeptically while simultaneously placing the small creature in your hands.

You flash a smug smile before wiggling your fingers in front of her face. “With magic.” You whisper. The little girl’s eyes sparkle as she gazes upon the purple aura beaming from your hand.

You had no problem showing off your abilities to children. With their hyperactive imaginations and short attention spans, they don’t pose a threat when it comes to exposing your secret.

Finally turning your attention to the sickly kitten once more, you press your index and middle finger to its stomach. Just as it did with Gwen earlier today, the purple energy moves from your fingers and onto the kitten. It only takes a few seconds for the cat to spring out of your hands and back to its tiny owner, moving with full strength and purring happily.

The little girl gasps in pure amazement as she picks up her cat and squeezes it to her chest. “Thank you so much! I love magic now!” She squeals, a hint of sparkle still in her eyes.

You let out a lighthearted laugh and ruffle her already messy hair a little bit. “Sure thing, hun. You take good care of him!”

“I will, I will!” She smiles brightly before rising to her feet. “Mommy, mommy! Spiderman feels better now!”

and with that, the little girl disappears through the door.

Did she really name that cat Spiderman?

You roll your eyes and shake your head before carrying on.

- - - - -

“Alice, I’m home- woah. What the hell is this?” You spit in shock at the sight in front of you.

Your Aunt Alice walks up to you and gently pulls you through the doorway. She lets out a loud over exaggerated laugh, “Y/n, we have a guest! Don’t be rude when we have a billionaire in our house.” She whispers the last part to you.

“Uh- right! My apologies. I’m Y/n Y/l/n.” You walk up to the clean cut man with an outstretched hand.

He whips his sunglasses off of his face and you immediately feel ten times more intimidated and a hundred times more confused. He pushes himself off of your couch and steps in front of you.

The man placed his firm hand in yours and gives you a subtle shake, “I know who you are, kid. I’m Tony Stark.”

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

The next part!

Okay guys that’s the end of the introduction chapter!! I hope you guys like it! I’m sorry it’s everywhere right now, but it’ll start making more sense as it goes on, like most stories do.

I’m open for some feedback!! Let me know if the chapter was too long or too short. Maybe it could use more dialogue or less dialogue. Whatever you have in mind, just please be nice!! I haven’t written a story like this since I was like 15 so I might be a little rusty. If you’re still here, thank you for reading this far!!

edit: Sorry for any typos!!

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

RESISTERE TENTATIONEM: CAPITULUM II

TĒCTUS: Covered, concealed, hidden, having been covered, hidden or concealed

Pairings: Damian Priest x Reader

Warnings: +18, mature content

Editor: @thenightmareismyreality

Tag: @ziasaph , @theworldofotps , @alyhull , @bellalutionn , @aerynscrichton , @serpantscorpio8497 , @ava-valerie , @omegasshyghuleh6661ghosts , @squirreledelman , @cazxcx , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @bayley-no-friends , @waywardwrestlewritingwaif , @sassymox

Notes: I would like to thank @letsgivethisonemoreshot , for not only being my partner in crime with this trilogy but also being one of the best friends someone could ever have 😘 This is fully written in Damian’s POV. If you’d like to check out my previous works, you can find them on my Masterlist

Want to hear a joke that’s really in poor taste? The Mother Superior of the famous Mary Magdalene Convent (isn’t that ironic) is being accused of hosting ‘parties’ to the oh so loving convent donors. And you know who isn’t invited to those parties? Jesus Christ. Because the Devil sure loves to be a part of them! Drugs, orgies, alcohol, prostitution, even black masses... you name it! Everything that is unholy happens in the so-called house of holiness, and if that isn’t a bad taste joke, I don’t know what is.

So here I am now, driving towards the Devil’s den: the Mary Magdalene convent for three torturous days of interviews. Out of all of the reporters from The New York Times, of course I was the one who drew the short straw and got assigned this article. Some people see this as a career changing opportunity... a blessing, but me? I see it as a fucking curse! I don’t like religion, I don’t like churches, I don’t like priests and I sure as hell don’t like nuns! Anything that has the word “holy” in it, I prefer to be as far away as I possibly can from. But today was not my lucky day….no, today was the day that I was going to be tested. The only thing I’m hoping for is to not fail.

I knocked on the convent’s door and a young lady answered me.

“Hi, good morning. I’m Damian Priest, reporter from The New York Times and I’m here for an interview with” I looked down at my notepad “Mrs. Y/N L/N? Whom I believe is the Mother Superior”

The young girl only nodded once and motioned for me to follow her, without saying a word.

I followed her in, mesmerized by the size of the convent, the whole place was fancy as fuck on the inside. Art pieces from famous painters were displayed on the walls, modern furniture, dim lights that made the place look cozy and inviting. *What a scam* I thought to myself. The young lady in front of me suddenly stopped walking and pointed towards the door in front of her before turning around and leaving.

Presuming that it was the Mother Superior’s office, I knocked on the door twice before someone told me to come in. You see, when they told me I was going to be interviewing the Mother Superior of a convent, the last thing I expected was for her to not only be beautiful, but young (considering I was under the impression that women in that position were around sixty years old). She was breathtaking to say the least! Soft features, her skin had an angelic glow to it and there was something in her eyes that trapped you in them...something you could not turn your gaze away from no matter how bad you wanted to.

“Mr. Priest, please sit down” She smiled

I nodded and sat on the chair in front of her desk

“Thank you for taking some time out of your busy schedule to speak with me, Mother Y/L/N-“

“Please, call me Y/N” Her sultry voice spoke

“Y/N” I tested the word on my lips and it sounded oddly pleasant

She smiled softly and...fuck she’s gorgeous! Her beauty was a painful and constant reminder of what you couldn’t have, couldn’t touch, couldn’t-“

“Mr. Priest?” She said softly

“Damian”

“Damian, would you like something to drink? Coffee, water, juice, tea perhaps?”

“No, I’m good. Thank you” I answered, while grabbing my notepad and a pen out of my backpack. Clearing my throat, I said “Can we get started with the pre-interview?”

“Of course” She smiled widely and reached for a cigarette pack on top of the table, which made me raise an eyebrow

“We all have our dirty little secrets, don’t we, Damian?” She asked, licking the cigarette filter before sucking it

*Am I going crazy?* I thought to myself

“Damian? Your first question is?” She giggled

“Ummm” I cleared my throat once again “Y/N, recently the convent was involved in a huge scandal involving drugs, prostitution, orgies and black masses. Would you like to clarify why an institution that’s deeply connected to the church is in the middle of something so profane?”

She grinned “God is in the most profane things, Damian. After all, the sinners are the ones who need Him the most, aren’t they?”

“I’m not sure if I follow-”

“You see” She took a long drag on her cigarette and walked towards me “God is our Lord and savior. He forgives us from our sins, grants us forgiveness to our most foul actions” She sat down on the chair beside me “If you steal from someone and repent; He’ll forgive you, kill someone and repent; He’ll save you, cheat on your wife with the hot, young next door neighbor and repent; He’ll brush it underneath the carpet and pretend it never happened” She shrugged “God doesn’t judge, Damian. He only forgives” She leaned forward on the arm of the chair, until she was uncomfortably close to me “So if the big boss himself doesn't judge anyone, then why should I?”

“And what does judgment have to do with drugs, orgies and sin?”

She smiled “How can God forgive you if you don’t sin, Damian?”

“And how can God forgive his so-called followers who incite others to sin, Y/N?”

“Incite others to sin?” She chuckled “Are you talking about the allegations, the donors or yourself?” She smirked

………………………………………………….......................

Since we’re so far from town I was informed that I would have to spend the night at the convent. They showed me my bedroom and it looked pretty fancy. King size bed, Egyptian sheets, expensive furniture. Everything was oddly normal, except for the weird dream I recalled having. I was at the convent, lost, calling for help because I somehow ended up locked in here. I was inside what looked like a large basement, the room was only lit by red lights, a faint smell of leather took over my nostrils as I heard someone moaning softly in my ear…a woman. And the weirdest thing was that I could’ve sworn I felt her breath against my ear. Needless to say I woke up with my dick as hard as a rock and had to spend a solid thirty minutes trying to get rid of a very painful boner, which did not leave me no matter how many times I came. Half hard and inside a convent...yeah, I’m definitely going to Hell!

“How did you sleep, Damian?” Was the first thing I was asked when I walked into the Mother Superior’s office in the morning. Something in her voice told me she knew exactly what I had done underneath the shower.

“Good”

“I bet you woke up feeling much better after a good night of rest, right?” She smiled devilishly and I just nodded

“Would you mind if we took a tour through the convent at some point?” I asked, quickly changing subjects

“Of course not! Let me know when you want one”

I nodded and began to ask my questions

“So, why do so many men keep coming and going from this convent? Seems like the place men shouldn’t be”

“The only men who come to the convent, Damian, are maintenance, the donors for the ‘thank you parties’ we host and now you” She smiled

“How do you get so many people to keep donating?”

“We don’t oblige anyone to do anything. People are still kind enough to see the work we do for those in need and they get touched by it. So God is the one who inspires them to donate, Damian. Not me”

“I’ve noticed a lot of fancy things here. Shouldn’t the money be going to something else?”

“The ‘fancy’ things you see are gifts from the donors. Things they felt in their hearts they should give us freely. We don’t buy things for the convent, apart from food. That’s one of the rules”

“Speaking of rules” I looked at her “Why are you smoking? Isn't that not allowed?”

“We don’t have rules against smoking here, Damian. The choice to do it or not is personal, but there are no rules for it. It’s not forbidden or a sin. Now, if you think nuns shouldn’t smoke, I suggest you pay a visit to the convents in Rome and give them a piece of your mind about their choices regarding health”

I chuckled at her comeback

“Why so cynical about our good intentions?” She licked her lips

“Because you don’t have any” I spat

“We live for helping those in need, Damian” She pointed towards my visible bulge

“Helping those in need, huh? And what do you get out of it?”

She walked towards me “Satisfaction in its purest form” She lifted one hand up and caressed my lower belly over my shirt “It’s incredible how much providing relief to others can trigger the biggest pleasure in our bodies...to see their eyes semi-closed in...relief is so rewarding to me”

I cleared my throat and shifted uncomfortably. “And just how needy do these people have to be?” I was speaking in financial terms of course

“Very needy” Her hand toyed with my jeans button “Some even have trouble sleeping due to their neediness, so you can see how a helping hand goes so well in this case...even the right mouth, you know to profess the Lord’s word”

“And just how many of these ‘charitable acts’ have you been involved with?” I felt my cock grow harder and harder

“Directly? Only when things get too hard, Damian” Her hand brushed against my hard bulge “That’s when I offer my help, so things can stop getting so hard and painful”

I gulped as I tried to shift away from her touch “So what, you just have all these other poor girls do your dirty work for you?” I try to keep my serious composure

“I’m not afraid of getting dirty, Damian. The girls do what they can, what they’re instructed to...but sometimes things get so hard that I have no other option but intervene” She pulled the fly of my jeans down “Then, once the seed of evil is finally spilled, things can go back to being soft again” She leaned in closer “Would you like a demonstration, Damian? I’m sure you have some kind of evil inside you that needs to be released” She asked with a sinister smile reaching her hand into the waistband of my boxer briefs

“I’m just here for work, Y/N, I have nothing to donate”

“Don’t worry about it. My girls will not be involved in this...it will be our little secret”

“I would like the tour now, please”

She smirked “Of course” and stepped away from me “This way” She went out the door as if nothing had happened

“Psycho bitch” I whispered to myself, as I pulled the fly of my jeans up and tied my hoodie around my waist to cover up the boner.

“This way we have the nuns bedrooms” She pointed towards a hallway “Kitchen, restrooms, archives, laundry room, storage for cleaning supplies, pantry” She explained each room, until we were outside “The patio, garden; where we cultivate flowers, fruits and vegetables, garage and the chapel is this way”

She walked towards a medium sized chapel in the middle of the garden, it looked like a regular chapel on the inside. It had an altar with a bible on it, a pulpit, a big cross, devotional statues of catholic saints, wooden benches and a confessional. Candles were lit up all over the place and everything looked normal. Scarily normal, until I noticed a few nuns who were sat on one of the benches staring at me with a weird look on their eyes

“Why are they looking at me like that?” I asked Y/N

“Like what?”

“Like, with...” I trailed off

“With desire?” She whispered in a mocking tone

I looked down at her speechless

“One could say that you’re a little too obsessed with the lust theme, Damian” She smiled “It’s all you can think about ever since you got here, dear. You should be careful” She licked her lips and pulled me by my hand towards her office again.

………………………........................................................

Later that night while I was trying to get some sleep, I began to hear some mumbling. Muffled voices kept saying something unintelligible and filling up the bedroom with mainly female voices. But one of the voices sounded too familiar to me...

I stood up from the bed and began to search in the room where those voices could be coming from, and as I almost gave up, I found it. A small hole of the size of a coin, in the concrete wall in front of my bed. Scooting closer to the wall, I knelt down and peeked through the hole, but weirdly enough, the room was pitch black. The mumbling started again and they soon became moans. Above all the moaning voices, one stood out to me. It was Y/N’s voice, she moaned softly while she said something I couldn’t quite understand. Her voice was filled with lust, her moans were pornographic and I could swear she was moaning my name. It both frightened and turned me on, so I did what any wise man would do. I returned to the bed, laid down and jerked off before falling into a deep slumber.

..................................................................................

“Wake up” Someone softly whispered in my ear

I quickly opened my eyes and my heart was beating at a frantic pace due to the fright.

A young girl was sitting down on my bed “Please, follow me” was all she said before standing up and leaving my room

I was so confused that I didn’t even bother to grab a t-shirt, so I just followed her down the hall barefoot and only with a pair of sweatpants on. Looking outside the hallway windows, I could see that the sky was still dark, which could only mean it was the late hours of morning.

She took me inside the laundry room and pressed a button underneath the folding clothes table. A door opened and a red light lit up the dark wooden stairs. I continued to follow her down the stairs, and we began to walk down a long hallway that looked more like a basement. The whole place had only red lights as the lighting source, so it took my eyes a while to get used to it.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked, but only received silence as a response

We walked for what felt like ten minutes until we reached a black wooden door with an iron door knocker. She knocked on the door four times and left.

“Is this a prank?” I asked myself, after five minutes of standing there alone. Suddenly the door opened, but I couldn’t see anything other than darkness ahead

“Hello?” I called from the doorway, but no one answered back

The thing that made me such a great reporter was my utter curiosity, and even with all my senses screaming ‘don’t go in there!’ I decided to listen to my curious side instead, and went into the room. As soon as I stepped a foot inside, the door behind me closed shut.

The room was pitch black and I stumbled across a few items. I placed my hand on top of what felt like a table so I could try to guide myself through the room, at least back to the door again so I could leave. When suddenly I felt several pairs of soft hands on my torso pulling me back.

“What the fuck?” I gasped in shock

But before I could make a move, my wrists and ankles were tied to a wooden surface and a red light turned on in the room

Five nuns were in front of me, staring silently at my body

“Leave” Someone said from behind me, and the nuns obeyed and left

“I would be lying if I said you weren’t a beautiful sight” Y/N said, and and walked in front of me

“You psycho bitch” I growled and pulled at the restraints “Let me go!”

She smiled “Oh Damian...You don’t want that!” Her nails softly scratched my lower belly “And neither do I”

“You’re sick! Let me go, you fucking-“

“Na ah” She slapped me across the face “I’m done playing these pretending games” She lit up a cigarette “Pretend you didn’t jerk off to my moans, pretending you don’t want to fuck me...that gets tiring” She dipped her hand inside my sweatpants and found my semi hard bulge “You’ve wanted to fuck me ever since you laid eyes on me” She giggled and I licked my dry lips

“Those sinful, filthy, thoughts you’ve had, Damian” She closed her fist around my erection “You wanted to know what we do here, right? We purge that demon out of you” And scooted closer until her lips brushed against my own with every word she spoke

“We send him away, so he can’t bother you anymore” She freed my cock from my pants and began to pump her hand up and down “We release you from the seed of evil”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I panted

Y/N knelt down in front of me and darted her tongue out, licking my slit “Give me the seed of evil, Damian” and gave an open mouth kiss on my tip “Feed me with it” Licked the underside of my shaft “Release yourself from what’s been bothering you ever since you got here” Darting her tongue out “Use me to purify your soul” And opened her mouth wider.

At such a sight I had no other option but to buck my hips forward…

And chase for my cleansing

If you’re comfortable with it, please let me know your thoughts on this? Feedbacks are always appreciated 🥰😘

[small-strong-bookish-butch]

So many of my coworkers are just… weird, and N also confirmed it yesterday. (To clarify, I think all the back-of-the-house production workers are pretty normal, but we don’t talk much, due to them mostly speaking in Spanish and me being quiet.) Does everyone have weird coworkers, or does my job just attract people like that? I think my job just attracts them somehow.

My coworkers who actually still work with me/who I see regularly are….

My manager (T)

a middleaged Black lady

only listens to reggae music, as far as I can tell (she controls the music station at work)

the one who listens to the apocalypse podcast and believes everyone should be stocking up on toilet paper and learning how to raise their own chickens because of the cost of eggs these days

extremely anti-vax 😬😬😬

very nitpicky and I thought she hated me for the whole time I worked with her (later, my GM said “She doesn’t hate you!!” and then R was like “Oh, she (T) hates everyone”)

something is always wrong, or someone always did something wrong, and she Will Complain about it Five Times Or More

has some weird grudge against one of the production workers and both of them refuse to be an adult about it

My GM

seems pretty normal and seems to have a normal family

thinks it’s “sad” that I don’t drink

a #girlboss

tiny dynamic blond lady

speaks in short sentences (“Nice!”, “All right”, “Do it like this next time”, “Remember to do thing”, etc)

very fast walker?? No one can ever find her immediately

laughs at videos of people getting hurt (i.e. thrown off of amusement park rides, things like that)

I noticed she asks questions about people and gave her permission to also ask me questions about my life (but said that I wouldn’t just tell her things if she didn’t ask)

doesn’t speak Spanish other than “Hasta la vista, baby!” from… whatever movie that’s from. IDK I don’t watch movies

asked matter-of-fact if I “always liked girls” after I told her I had a partner; doesn’t understand the ‘they pronoun’ thing at all but she definitely has the gay-allyship spirit and isn’t weird about [me being queer] 🌈

H

drinks coffee every day for breakfast

literally no one else likes her husband because he’s not considerate of her (I don’t know the situation and it’s not my business to ask, but I’m like, sad and frustrated for her but I’m not close enough with her to ask)

genuinely likes working out and going to church

told me the other day, after learning that I’m engaged, that she and her husband didn’t live together until they were married “because my church says you should” and I was like …..okay then. 🚫 Literally did not ask.

C

this old, energetic, grandma-type woman

my first interaction with her was when my old glasses screw fell out in the bathroom, and she tried to help me find it 🥺🥺🥺

very sweet and talks to everyone (including the production workers, in Spanish!)

worked with one of the production workers for 11 years, counting the current job! And they talk in Spanish a lot at work

definitely weird somehow

she’s kind of befriended me (!!) (but we haven’t talked outside of work yet)

R

very private person and seems very busy and introverted (and has a second job), but he always smiles and asks how everyone’s day is going

I was worried I was weird towards him at first, but we’re cool at work (and I don’t want to invade his space)

I accidentally stole his work polos and eventually told him about it, and he was like “Oh, no way, that was you?!” and just got me more shirts that are actually my size lol

somehow knows that I’m queer….? The way he talks about it briefly makes me feel like I’ve had some conversation with him about it at some point, but damn if we have any idea what we said or what he knows 🤔 (and we don’t work with him closely enough or talk to him alone long enough to say “Hey dude, my memory is literally always bad, so it sounds crazy, but: what do you know about me being queer?”)

Reblog with your weird coworker vibes if you like? I just needed to put this somewhere

[ghost-go-roasty-mctoasty]

What if hallucifer stayed with Sam throughout the whole show? What if cass didn't really fix the problem, but only took the pain away?

Sam walks out of that hospital knowing he's not alright. Knowing he's never gonna be alright. He gets into shotgun, dean smiling next to him warmly, Lucifer smiling at him from the back seat. Cold dead eyes.

Lucifer is there with him when dean and cass get blasted to who knows where. Crowley tells him he's all on his own, Lucifer laughs next to him.

He meets Amelia, but eventually she leaves him. He doesn't blame her, who would want to be with a guy who talks to air and barely sleeps? He starts drinking a lot after that.

Dean comes back, from purgatory apparently. He doesn't know about lucifer, Sam never told him, didn't want to make himself a bigger burden for his brother. So he lies, tells him he was with Amelia this whole time. Dean gets angry. Sam knew he would, but it's easier this way.

Lucifer is with him when they find the bunker, commenting on the ugly lamps. Sam snickers, dean looks at him weird, but doesn't say anything.

Lucifer is with him when he completes the first trial. He looks down to Sam who is covered in blood. He points to the dead hellhound. "I knew that one." He says. "Her name was Ashley."

Lucifer is with him when he goes to hell to rescue bobbys soul. "I did not miss this place." Lucifer whispers next to him. A shiver goes down Sam's spine.

Lucifer is with him when he's just about to finish the last trial. Lucifer always keeps quiet when Sam is completing trials, something about "purification." Sam doesn't really know, he mostly blocks him out.

He's there when dean comes and stops him. He's yelling at Dean, telling him to go, leave them. But dean cant hear him, he knows he cant hear him. Sam doesnt know why Lucifer even tries.

Lucifer is in the back seat of the impala when Sam wakes up. He doesn't remember getting into the impala. He remembers passing out in the mud in front of the church. His clothes are clean now though. Lucifer is quiet.

Lucifer has stopped talking to him, he just hovers now. It's driving Sam mad. He's not used to the strange silence, but he doesn't suspect anything weird until he starts losing fragments of his day.

He starts noting down time frames that he loses. He started when he was researching in the library at 2:45pm, blacked out, and came to in the kitchen at 3:14pm. Lucifer stays out of his way. Sam sometimes thinks he has a look of pity on his face, but that can't be right, can it?

Sam eventually asks dean about this. His brother just brushes him off. Lucifer continues to hover.

Crowley comes and saves him. Sam kicks the angel out. He opens his eyes to see Lucifer staring at his brother. "I guess sammy has a thing for kicking angles out."

Deans starting to get suspicious. Sam's zoning out more and more. Eyes glazing over as he just listens to Lucifer ramble on about nothing. About everything.

"You good Sammy?" Dean asks him one day while they're eating breakfast. Sam answers too fast. Dean only gets more suspicious.

Dean eventually finds out, Sam knew he would sooner or later. He finds dean with alcohol more often now. A look of guilt is permanently stuck on Sam's face.

"Its not your fault Sammy." Dean always tells him. Sam is finding it harder to believe him.

Sam zones out more often. The only thing that can bring him back is deans touch. Deans heavy hand on his shoulder bringing him back down to earth, grounding him. Deans always looking at him with this sad smile. Sam feels like he's failed him.

Lucifer is with him when he finds out dean got the mark of Cain. "Oh that's a nasty little thing." Lucifer comments next to him. Sam has taken to ignoring him, it eases deans mind.

Dean is getting worse and worse. And so is Sam. Dean is slowly losing care for Sam and he's not there for him anymore. He's not there to ground him, to pull him back.

Sam starts zoning out for longer periods of time. Dean doesn't seem to care, only rolls his eyes. Lucifer watches perched on a chair next to him. "Does big bro not love you anymore?" Sam flinches.

Lucifer is there when dean dies.

Lucifer is there when Sam finds the note. "Aww big brother left you." Lucifer laughs.

Sam is spiralling. Lucifer talks to him more and more as Sam searches for his brother. No-one is there to ground him anymore. No-one is there to help him. One day Sam accidently talks back to Lucifer. Lucifer looks shocked for half a second before that cold smirk comes back to his face.

"Its been years since you talked to me Sammy." Lucifer says one day as Sam is reading a book on demons. "I missed our little talks." Sam slams the book shut. "Shut up." He hisses.

Lucifer is right there as Sam ducks down to avoid the hammer. "I never knew why Alastair liked this one." Cass appears. Thank god. Sam falls back against the wall and helplessly covers his ears. He knows it won't block him out. "Sure he ripped apart a lot of souls in hell, but a hammer?" Sam hits his head against the wall. "Shut up shut up shut up." Lucifer laughs at him. Cass pays him no mind.

Lucifer is there when the darkness is unleashed. "Ooh aunty." He says next to Sam. Sam flinches, dean places a hand on his arm. All three stand there and watch.

"You know, I find it really uncomfortable that your brother has a thing for my aunt." Lucifer says one day. Sam looks him right in the eye. "Shut up, Lucifer." Sam hasn't looked directly at Lucifer for at least 3 years. Lucifer smiles coldly at him as dean walks up to Sam, worry and fear etched into his face. Palms out towards him like he's trying not to scare off a frightened animal. Sam doesn't feel too far off from that.

Lucifer is with Sam when he goes to see real Lucifer. Sam thinks he's going crazy.

"So, you're still seeing me huh?" Real Lucifer asks him. Sam sucks in a breath as Lucifer stands to the side of the cage. "Oh c'mon Sam. I've been inside that head of yours. There's nothing I don't know about you." Real Lucifer smiles down at him. Or is it fake Lucifer? Sam doesn't know anymore.

Lucifer is with him as he gets tourted by the British men of letters. Always sending words of encouragement, towards Toni.

Lucifer is sitting on the steps. "Ah remember our lovely time down under?" He asks, titling his head to get a better view of what the lady was doing. "Ooh blowtorch. You never did like fire huh?" Sam screams. He can bearly hear Lucifers laughter over his own screams of pain.

Dean comes and saves him. Hands all over him as soon as they're out. Lucifer rolls his eyes at them. "Mother hen." Sam tenses up.

Lucifer is there when their mother leaves them. "I guess everyone hates ya huh Sammy?" Lucifer smiles at him. Dean doesn't react, doesn't even look at him.

"Never did like the brits." Lucifer says one day. Sam smiles. Deans hands are on him straight away.

Lucifer is there when Jack is born. Lucifer is there when cass is killed. Sam thinks he's seeing double, two Lucifers talking to him at the same time.

One Lucifer stays with him, one goes with his mother. He's not sure which is which. So he asks. Lucifer laughs at him. Dean doesn't put a hand on him.

Dean always stands closer to him after that, he's always making sure that they're touching, that they're shoulders are brushing. Lucifer gets annoyed at dean. Tries to hurt him. Sam sleeps less and less, just in case, just in case one day Lucifer succeeds.

Lucifer sits right next to Sam one day, getting all up in his personal space. Dean isn't in the room. Sam silently sobs.

Lucifer is always hovering around Jack, making terrible remarks about the kid. Sam snaps one day. "Leave him alone!" Lucifer smiles at him, Jack looks up at him like a confused puppy, and dean is dragging him out of the room, his fingers digging into his shoulder blade.

Jack has started to avoid him after that. Dean tells him not to worry about it, but it breaks Sam's heart. Lucifer laughing at him for it all the time is not helping.

Lucifer is there when the vampires get him. Cheering to the side of the cave. And Lucifer is there when he wakes up. He didn't know that it was the real Lucifer.

Lucifer is with him when he makes it back to Dean, both of them. Sam only knows which one is real beacuse everyone is looking at that one. Sam feels like he's failed Dean, again.

Dean hugs Sam, but it doesn't feel real, it doesn't feel right. Lucifer pokes his blood caked neck, Sam jerks away from dean. Dean looks at him with heart broken eyes.

Deans hand is on him all the time now. Holding his arm, brushing their shoulders together. It makes Sam feel jumpy.

Sam makes sure Lucifer stays in this world. He doesn't know which one he trapped, but he hopes it was fake Lucifer. Real Lucifer is easier to deal with.

Lucifer is there when real Lucifer is killed. Sam smiles at him.

"So much for your win Sammy." Lucifer says one day while Sam is sitting in the darkness of his room. "Sure you killed me, but you lost your big brother." Sam wishes he could punch him.

Lucifer is there when Sam gets dean back.

Dean makes a comment on his beard. "Don't listen to him Sammy." Lucifer says as dean walks off. "I think you look good." Sam shaves his beard off after that.

Lucifer is there when Michael possesses dean again. He's laughing the whole time. Dean won't help him, can't help him. Dean is gone.

"Let him in the box Sam!" Lucifer suddenly snaps at him one day, making Sam jump. "Get rid of Michael!" Sam starts to cry. It's too much, not even deans touch is helping him anymore. It feels wrong, alien.

Nick attacks him, Lucifer is cheering him on. "Ah I wish he was my true vessel!" Lucifer exclaims as Sam's vision darkens.

Mary is dead, Jack is gone. "Bye bye mother Mary." Lucifer sings. Sam flinches, dean doesn't care.

"Oh so you can't put your brother in that box, but you sure as hell can put my son in?" Lucifer is yelling in his ear. Sam punches the air. Deans hands on him don't help.

Chuck comes back. Lucifer snarls at him, never stops yelling at him. It's hard for Sam to pay attention to anything, he can't hear anything over Lucifers yelling. Deans hand is on his shoulder the whole time, but he seems out of it.

Lucifer was quiet for a while after God killed Jack. Sam counts his blessings.

Lucifer is there when they rendered chuck powerless. He seems to have a grateful look on his face.

Lucifer isn't there when dean dies.

Lucifer isn't there when miracle dies.

Lucifer is there when Sam's on his death bed. He's standing in the corner of the room, arms crossed over his chest. He waves, and Sam's vision fades.

Sam's free.

Sam's finally free.

[ill-skillsgard]

I need Faust and Faith's reunion after he's done touring 👉👈 No pressure or anything. I just miss them a lot!

I always miss Fausty boy! I have some other prompts I wanted to incorporate into this one, but it was getting too long. I hope you enjoy!

+

Warning: 18+ mentions of public sex, mature language, anti-religious overtones, mentions of blood, violence, death, and drug use.

Summary: Faith goes to her first black metal show and asks Faust about the black circle.

- Not based on Lords of Chaos. I use Faust!Valter’s likeness only as inspiration.

Read more Faust x Faith here [x]

The duelling guitars screeched through twin stacks of speakers and filled the auditorium with malfeasance. Faith had never witnessed such a carnal reaction. As she watched from the side stage, the crowd below opened into a whirling pit of black-clad showgoers, pushing, jumping and banging against each other. The drums kicked into a blistering rhythm, and her attention turned toward the man she barely recognized with white and black makeup painting his face like the ghost of a demon.

Faust punished his drumkit with expert precision, his arms blurring in the chaos of their first song. His black hair swung as he banged his head without missing a beat. Horned and studded limbs spilled over the metal barricade, tongues lolled, and eyes lit with blissful fury. The singer's growls seemed to rise from the depths of hell, a monster shrieking at its thralls for more destruction.

Even with earplugs in, Faith felt the music blowing back in waves, shaking the column of her throat and turning her brain to mush. She dared slip one plug out to hear the true volume and quickly stuffed it back in when the intensity struck.

During the ambient interludes between songs, the crowd roared still. A few hundred people raised their hands, praising the men on stage. It reminded her of church, how they would let their eyes roll back, chanting the hymns and facing their palms skyward. This was no church she had ever set foot inside. The walls were painted black, the floor sticky from spilled beer, and its congregation made her gathering's displays of loyalty seem demure. The air reeked of salty skin and malt embedded in the paint from nights like this.

Faith saw people wearing shirts with Faust's band logo on the front, and a burst of pride warmed her belly. Though she was remarkably out of place, there was an odd sense of welcome. She could run headfirst into the crowd and get swallowed up and spit out like anyone else.

When they finished their set, Faust retired his drumsticks to a holder, chugged an entire bottle of beer and took a brief bow to the crowd before walking off stage. Faith bounced as he approached and scooped her off the floor, smearing her face with paint from around his mouth. When he set her down, his lips were partially visible through the now grey muck.

"How was it?" Faust asked.

"You guys are amazing. That's was so cool, babe!"

"Ah, you're just saying that."

"No, really! I can't believe how crazy they went for you!"

Faust sneered playfully, though their reception had been one for the books. "Probably 'cause half the crowd are friends of ours."

"Doesn't matter. You still kicked ass."

Faust's smile was unbreakable from a show well played and seeing his girlfriend waiting for him at the side of the stage. He led her to the green room as stagehands and managers nodded them through and let her dab the corpse paint off her face in the bathroom. Faust sopped up the sweat in his hair with a towel and changed his stage clothes before Faith returned. His bandmates soon joined them, and the chatter was unintelligible. People from other bands came in to talk and congratulate the young group on their first cross-country tour, and soon the back was filled with people hanging VIP badges from their pockets.

Faust pulled Faith from the bedlam before the room grew too hot. They made their way to the main floor and the rows of merchandise tables. Faith couldn't help but feel privileged to have access to the other side of the tables where Faust told her she could stash her coat and purse while a lineup of fans waited to purchase t-shirts and albums. Admirers pulled Faust away several times to take photos and shake hands. Faith watched in awe as people took turns posing with her boyfriend, who stayed looking stoic in his half-melted face paint. Her boyfriend. People from all walks of life wanted proof they'd met him, asking him to sign album covers and tour posters.

When Faust broke away from the clamour of excited metal fans, he took Faith's hand and pulled her through the crowd to a stairwell guarded by security. He flashed his tour badge, and the guard permitted them to the balcony where a few other musicians sat in a less crowded area.

"Come on, let's go outside. I need a fucking smoke," Faust said.

They went through a set of metal doors to an outdoor balcony where two men leaned against the railing, passing a joint and chatting. One spotted Faust, and a smile cracked over his face.

"Hey, Faust. Great show, man. We watched from the balcony. You guys were fucking killer," the man passed the joint to the drummer.

He hauled a significant bout of smoke into his lungs, then expelled it into the night air, handing it back with a nod.

The man refused. "Pass it to the lady."

"She's good," Faust said.

"I'll take a hit," Faith countered.

Faust glanced at her, brow raised high. "You sure?" He chuckled.

"Yes. I'll be fine."

Faust handed her the joint and turned to his fellow musicians. "Thanks. Glad you guys enjoyed the set."

As Faith inhaled, the other man turned to her and offered his hand to shake. "Hey, I'm Janne."

"Faith," she mouthed around a lungful of searing smoke.

"This is Yosh," Janne gestured at the man who'd initially offered Faust the joint. "Good to meet you."

"Is this your girlfriend, Fausty?"

"Yeah. She's my girl."

"Aw, that's cute. Didn't take you for the relationship type, to be honest. You like this scary son of a bitch?" Yosh asked.

Faith giggled as she looked up at the towering man dressed in black while he lit a cigarette. "He's not that scary. At least not to me," said Faith.

"Good man to have by your side at a show. You might get trampled down there."

"This is actually my first show."

Yosh choked on a hit and coughed, "really? And you came to a black metal show? That's ballsy."

"Well, it's not really my thing, but I wanted to see them play. I came from out of town just to be here tonight," Faith said proudly.

"Oh, right. You guys are from the green belt, right? Or should I say, the black circle?" Janne tittered.

Faust's eyes grew stony. "No. I'm not part of that shit. Bunch of fucking posers."

"We were just talking about the church fire there a couple weeks ago. You guys are known for that, aren't you?"

"I don't know. Guess so," Faust shrugged.

"They said there was a body found after they put out the fire, and it was nailed to some pieces of wood...like a cross or something. Can you believe that shit? How metal is that?"

Faith swallowed. She had heard the news break the day after the fire before they announced the unidentified body and after Faust had surprised her at the bus stop. They had prayed about it in church the following week and set up a collection to bulldoze the wreckage and reconstruct the chapel even bigger than before. Her mother was so stricken from the news that Faith had to spend a night at her parents' house consoling her while her father bad-mouthed the city's youth.

Bunch of heathen Satan-worshippers in this town. If I'd have known how disgusting some of these people are, I'd have never moved us out here.

Faith, her sisters and their mother all huddled on the sofa watching reruns of Full House while Stan stood hard-backed at the front window, peering out every few minutes as if the culprit might attack them next.

Oh, Stan, you don't know who did it. You can't point the finger when the police haven't even updated the community. Give the embers a chanced to cool. Besides, it's places like these that need the most help. We'll raise the money. I just hope to God they catch the people who did this.

All Faith could think about as she ate her sundae next to her sister was what she was doing the night after the fire. While the fire department was busy putting out the flames across town, she was pressed against a brick wall getting fucked by one of the heathen Satan-worshippers her father despised. She tried not to connect dots that had no business forming any kind of picture. Faust's appearance had been a coincidence.

I'll tell you who did this... It's that damned black circle. They've done it before, and they'll do it again.

Faust waved a hand in front of Faith's face, and she flinched from her reveries. "Babe? You there?"

"Oh, sorry," she laughed. "Kind of zoned out."

"Wanna head back inside?"

Faith didn't realize she was shivering until Faust rubbed her upper arms. "Sure. Yeah, let's do that."

"One puff of a joint, and you're on another planet, huh? Good seeing you Janne, Yosh... We should tour again."

"Yeah, man. As soon as possible. We're always on the road. We'd love to have you out for as many gigs as you guys can handle."

Faust nodded and clasped hands with both men before urging Faith along with a palm on her bottom. Once they made it inside, he snuck his fingers under her skirt and pinched her hard enough to give her a jolt but not to hurt.

"Faust!"

"What? No one's looking. Hey, you wanna check out our tour bus?"

Faith went to the balcony railing and saw the next band setting up their gear. She pointed below and turned to Faust. "Won't we miss the next band?"

"You actually wanna stay and watch?"

"Uh, yeah! This is my first show. I wanna see all the bands."

"All right. We can stay up here or go to the floor. But I'm warning you, it can get ruthless down there."

"I want to go down. It looks fun."

"Then we have to go now. We'll try to get right up front where you won't get swallowed in a circle pit."

"Really?" Faith gasped. "Like, right up front at the barricade?"

"Sure, why not? If you want the full experience. I'll stand right behind you and make sure crowd-surfers don't land on your head. Then after, I'll show you the bus, and...I dunno...Probably fuck."

"Oh my goodness, Faust. Yeah, right!"

"I'm serious. I'd fuck you right here if there weren't people around."

Emboldened by his suggestion, Faith whirled around and stared up at him with her brows lowered. "What's all this about the black circle?"

Faust scoffed. "What are you talking about?"

"I've heard it mentioned before and that you're part of it. I just wanna know. Is it some kind of gang?"

"Do I look like I'm in a fucking gang? No. It's just some dumb shit they made up in high school."

"They as in your friends?"

"It's stupid and means nothing."

Faith stood in place. "Well, they're saying that church burned down because of your friends. Aren't you afraid someone might ask you questions?"

"I'm not afraid of shit because I've been on tour this whole time."

"Faust—"

"What did I tell you about the twenty questions? Now, do you wanna go watch the show or do you wanna keep talking about irrelevant shit?"

Dissatisfied with his response, Faith clammed up and followed Faust to the main floor. They wriggled through the tightening crowd and got upfront before the lights lowered, and a gust of smoke covered the stage. Ominous chanting heralded in a band dressed in black hoods. Faith watched, awestruck, but in the back of her mind, thoughts of the black circle fermented, giving off a foul smell she couldn't ignore.

After the headlining band opened with pyrotechnics and the frontman tossing a skull of pig's blood over the crowd, Faust took Faith around back, where the tour buses formed a barrier between the street and the venue. He led her inside and turned on the light to reveal the interior in a state of disarray. Beer bottles overflowed in the sink, ramen noodle wrappers littered the floor, and spiked leather decorum hung over seats and tables. There was a shredded porn magazine, its contents pinned to the wall and drawn over with a black marker, breasts shooting fire and snakes slithering out of places that made Faith blush.

"Sorry about the smell. Touring always has a distinct odour of unwashed balls and puke."

Faith tried not to touch any surface until Faust showed her to the back lounge area, where they sat and looked at each other in prolonged silence. Faith reined in a smile while her boyfriend sat back and studied her face.

"I'm glad you came. Sorry that it's probably more chaotic than you expected."

"It's okay. I'm having fun."

"You sure? I know it's not really your scene."

"You're my scene," Faith said.

He reached for her hand. Faith thought he meant to hold her, but he tugged her closer instead, straddling her over his lap. His hands came up under her skirt and over her ass while they kissed. Faust pulled away as she rocked her hips forth and placed his hands on her hips.

"So, how's school?"

"You're really asking me about school when we haven't seen each other in weeks?"

"What? Is there something else you wanna do?"

"I think you know what I want."

"Yeah, but I want you to say it."

Faith peered down the hall, past the bunks, toward the front of the bus. "What if someone comes in?"

"Not like my band hasn't walked in on you sucking my cock before."

"Oh my gosh, don't remind me."

Faust darkened, pulled air through his teeth. "Did you miss me?"

"Of course, I missed you. How is that even a question?"

He tilted his hips up and let Faith drop when he relaxed. She tugged his shirt up to appreciate the trail of hair leading down from his navel.

"What did you miss the most?"

"Your big, throbbing heart," Faith giggled. "I missed cuddling with you and going on walks together. Waking up with you beside me. Your cooking."

Faust pulled her down for a hug. "All right, all right. I get it. You wanna fuck, just not in the bus."

"Do your bandmates fuck girls in here?"

Laughter burst from his mouth as he rocked Faith back and forth. "They fucking wish."

The couple chuckled until another silence proceeded. Faith saw the fiery look in Faust's eyes, the appetite for her body that never tapered, his joy from having her there on his tour bus. Yet, all Faith saw was a building on fire, flames flickering behind his green stare. She smothered the thoughts with a kiss Faust took for permission to explore under her skirt again. Maybe she could kill her suspicions by reminding herself how much he loved her, the lengths he would go to protect her.

Voices yelled outside the bus, distracting Faith but not Faust, who rolled beneath her hips, oblivious to the arousal shooting through his groin.

"Yeah, come on, baby. Pull my cock out and sit on it for me. It'll be quick."

"Faust!" Someone shouted outside of the bus.

Faith pushed on his chest and perked toward the sound.

"Where the fuck is that asshole? First, he fucks off for an entire day, loses his phone, makes us cancel a show, and now the prick can't be dicked to help load out because his bitch is here? Getting real fucking sick of the bullshit, Ola."

"Mordy, chill out, man."

The bus door opened, followed by a waft of cigarette smoke. Boot tread hammered across the floor, and Mordy swayed through to the back, scoffing when he saw Faust with his girlfriend perched on his lap.

"You wanna take apart your drumkit, or are you just gonna let it sit in the way of everyone's gear? Oh, sorry, should have known you were too busy to be fucking bothered."

Faust lifted Faith off his thighs, and she bounced on the sofa as he shot up and stared Mordy down. The bass player didn't flinch.

"What? What're you gonna do, Faust? Punch me out? Good thing it's our last show. Wouldn't want your personal business getting in the way of the biggest tour of our fucking lives so far."

"You don't know shit, so I suggest you shut your mouth."

"No, I'm not gonna shut my mouth. Someone has to stand up to you, and none of these pussies will. Go load out your fucking gear, man!"

Faust smelled whiskey on Mordy's breath. He was far too sober to start a fight with the bass player and nodded, shouldering past him. Mordy crashed into the wall and cursed as the drummer stomped off the bus, leaving Faith fidgeting with the edge of her skirt and unsure if she should follow. Mordy scoffed at her and exited the bus after Faust, shouting until she no longer heard him.

When Faust returned, Faith stood up and wrang her wrists. "Should I leave?"

"We're both leaving," Faust muttered as he tore open the zipper on his backpack and scrounged up his clothes and stage effects to stuff inside. He ducked into the small fridge and took four bottles of beer, sticking two in the holders of his bag and pocketing the other two inside his leather jacket.

"Come on. We're out of here."

"But, neither of us have a car, and we're far from home," Faith said.

"Call a cab."

Outside of the bus, guitar cases and boxes of merch waited for loading. Faust opened a tote, wrenched open a steel moneybox and took some of the cash inside. He found Faith's coat and purse and passed them to her before kicking a hole into the plastic container. Mordy and Ola noticed this as Faust walked away with Faith in tow.

"Hey, asshole! What do you think you're doing? You can't just fucking take off with the merch money!"

Faust turned around, grabbed his crotch and flipped them off. "Suck my dick, fuckbags. Find a new drummer."

[mira--mira]

Mess of thoughts after the last post. Kinda heavy, religious trauma, misogyny, brief mentions of self harm/suicide attempt. Ends on an uplifting note though?

I think the thing that freaked me out with that post was I wasn’t expecting it. I grew up in the bible belt and christianity was, and still is, entrenched in everything around me. I’m used to dealing with it and most days it doesn’t bother me. I have a lot of good friends who are religious who showed me how to have a better, healthier relationship with belief and who respect my boundaries when it gets too much. I tell them ‘funny stories’ of the church I was in growing up and they stare at me in horror and I laugh it off and encourage them to laugh too as ‘can you believe this crazy thing? it’s wild right?’ and push aside any concerns that something’s wrong with my ‘funny stories’.

Their earliest memory in church wasn’t the nice lady who made all the church function’s t-shirts talking about a woman she knew who was so nice and kind but she mentioned something about jesus and the woman told her she was wiccan and wasn’t it a shame that she was going to burn in hell?

They didn’t have the ‘fire-and-brimstone’ preachers who spoke passionately about the devil as much as christ and warned that any thought, any hesitance, any doubt was the devil trying to tempt you. You can’t trust yourself. You’re weak and mortal. If you have doubts you have to beg god for forgiveness and listen to the church. You should have never doubted the church.

Their denomination wasn’t one that prevented women from holding any position of power in the church. Youth-group leaders were the ‘highest’ they could be, they couldn’t even run the adult sunday school lessons. Because women were born from adam’s rib and eve ate the apple first. It was all her fault, she deserved the pain and agony. Women still deserve to be punished today. Lilith? We don’t talk about lilith and even if we did, she’s more proof of women’s inherent wickedness, refusing to submit to her husband. It’s a woman’s place to listen to her husband. She is his helper, he her master. To obey him is to obey to the church, to obey god.

They didn’t live in fear of doing one single thing wrong, forgetting to ask forgiveness, and being damned for all of eternity. There was no punishment a parent could give that would match an eight-year old’s fear of damnation. Every doubt was from the devil. Every ‘this makes me upset, I don’t like being here’ was temptation and it means something is wrong with you because no one else reacts like this. Would your parents even love you if they knew you were so young but the devil was already tempting you so much? Listen to the church. Revelations was one of the most popular books preached. What if the rapture came and you were left behind? It could happen at any moment, have you asked forgiveness today? The anti-christ is said to be a man, but it could be a woman. What if it’s you? What if you don’t even know? What if the signs are as small and innocuous as trick-or-treating or reading books about magic and witchcraft? What if there’s something fundamentally wrong with you? “Serve like peter or serve like judas” god knows everything, has everything planned. You have free will, but do you?

Their denominations were open-minded and inviting. “Everyone is welcome” the church said but only on condition. There are no homosexuals here. Bisexuals do not exist. They’re depraved and sinful and our community is holy and pure. Not one of our women has gotten an abortion, they’re not sluts who spread their legs for every man that asks. They’re not tempted. They’re pure and abstinent, not one has a sexual thought until marriage, until their husband, who they should be with forever, decides to take their innocence and deflower them. A woman’s sex life is like a rose, you know? Every partner, a petal gets plucked. What man would want a plucked flower? Men are never held to the same standard. This is what a good woman should be, so why do you have sexual thoughts? Want physical pleasure? You should be ashamed. Pray for forgiveness, for the thoughts to go away. This, more than anything else, will be your damnation. When they don’t, grow desperate, make deals. It’s not self-harm if you’re not cutting your wrists. It’s not a suicide attempt if you’re not hospitalized and no one knows you tried. No one else has this problem. There must really be something wrong with you.

There is nothing wrong with you. You’re a child, a teenager, and you should never have grown up with this mockery of ‘love’. It’s all about control. Understand that and everything falls into place. You don’t have to beg and plead and make deals with their abusive god who never loved you anyway. Women are human. You are human. There’s nothing wrong with loving a woman, or a man. There’s nothing wrong with wanting pleasure or prioritizing you in your own life. Their holidays are taken from pagan ones and no one even read the damn books before they decided to condemn them for a single word. Man did not create woman, woman created man. Christ forgave all sins, but eve’s were still too great? How convenient. Misogyny at the rotten core, the same thoughts for thousands of years, with nothing new to say except new ways to tighten the shackles and drag you down. You’re not a vessel. Not a ‘non-man’. Or unfinished thing. Other women are not your enemy, they never were. You’re exactly like them, all the other girls. You should be proud of that, embrace it and find connection instead of constant unfulfilling competition with no victor. They’re hypocrites, they demand their book be read literally, the trumpets and angels, the wall falling down, the world consumed by a lake of fire and the mark of the beast but they ignore the slavery, the rape, the food prohibitions, and the fucking law on mixed fabrics. Don’t believe there’s something inherently wrong or evil with you. Every doubt is the devil if you’re trying to maintain control, they took advantage of your youth, your naivete. Trust yourself to learn right from wrong, never let anyone demonize you for asking a question again. There is nothing wrong with other beliefs. There is nothing wrong with your emotions, how scared they made you feel and how it still bubbles up from time to time, an albatross you may never fully let go. It’s getting better. Measure your progress by that. It was the hardest lesson for a child to learn: the adults were wrong. There is nothing wrong with you.

[gellavonhamster]

ghost stories

Suicide Squad (2016) || characters: El Diablo feat. everyone else || post-canon, sort of a fix-it

ao3 link eng || this was first written and published on ao3 in Russian in 2016 but I didn't attempt to translate it into English back then.  

Harley is the first to see him.

She catches the smell first. Something appears to be burning, and she checks cautiously if there is something wrong with the coffee machine. She doesn’t find anything suspicious – not that the appliances about to flame up smell like that anyway. Could it be that there’s a fire starting? That would be funny, but seems like there’s hardly a chance. It is the smell of a bonfire at the beach, of the fallen leaves being burned in the yards in fall, of a melting candle in the church; weirdly, all this at the same time. A smell that seems too pure for Belle Reve, for Gotham, for everything that makes up her life these days.      

Harley looks around once again – and springs to her feet like she’s been stung.

Chato Santana is standing next to her cage.

“Diablo?” she whispers, unable to believe her eyes. She would’ve thought she’s lost her marbles if there were any left to lose.    

“Harley,” says Diablo, and it’s his voice, his shy, sad smile, his eyes and his tattoos, and Harley squeals in delight as she rushes to him. The bars of the cage are live, so she only dares to stick out the tips of her fingers. He touches them with his hand – certainly alive, certainly not a product of her mind being tortured by boredom and monotony – and she laughs.

“You’re alive, alive, alive! How did you survive? And how did they let you in?”

“It’s a long story. And I don’t think I have much time,” Diablo looks guilty. He’s still holding her hand and looking at her so earnestly it’s almost worrying.  “Harley… don’t go with him.”  

“Huh? What do you mean, honey?”

“He’s coming here. Don’t leave with him, Harley, stay. It sounds strange, but this would really be for the best.”  

“Don’t leave with whom?” she can’t follow him. He gives her a melancholic look – and suddenly disappears. Without any smoke or flames or any other special effects. She can’t wrap her head around how it happened – it’s just that he was here a moment ago, and now there’s no one beside her, and she’s reaching out towards nothing.      

“Diablo?” she calls, and when she gets no answer, she decides to get things straight by asking the guards. What kind of cruel joke is this? Only one person is allowed to joke here, and that person is her. “Hello there! Mister jailer, yoo-hoo! Where’s my friend?”  

No one is in a hurry to respond. Finally, one of the armed-to-the-teeth guards approaches the cage.

“Why are you yelling, lady?”

“Where’s my friend?” Harley asks petulantly. “He was here just now, and we didn’t finish talking. Where did you take him?”  

“There was no one here.”

“What do you mean ‘no one’? I just talked to him!”

The guard examines her from head to foot. Looks like he’s chewing gum, which, combined with his empty apathetic stare, makes him look like a cow.

“Definitely crazy,” he sums up, and leaves. Irritated, Harley forgets to take caution, hits the bars and falls down on the floor right away, writhing in pain.    

“Well, well, well,” she whispers, playing the recent events over in her head. Chato was very much corporeal – not a ghost, then. Yet the guards didn’t notice him, and then he vanished into thin air. Harley thinks about the being Chato transformed into by the end of the battle – an ancient one, as if straight from the walls of some Aztec temple. Could some petty bomb kill such a being? Could the Enchantress’s brother have survived too?  

“I am friends with a god,” she informs the ceiling. “Incredible.”

About an hour later, her Puddin’ comes for her, and she forgets the advice Diablo gave her.  

  Croc sees him on the night of the same day. He knows for sure that it is night thanks to the TV listings – the only reference point for time and days of the week that he has. Not that it was bothering him too much, truth be told. Monday or Sunday, every day in Belle Reve is a carbon copy of the day before. However, Croc doesn’t complain. He has a roof over his head, water, food – even better food than he used to have in the sewers in days gone by – and a TV, and it is honestly not too hard to do without such extras as companionship and fresh experiences. Still, he is glad to see Diablo. Even though first he lunges at him with his fangs bared, because he doesn’t immediately recognize him and supposes that Waller and company are sick of feeding him and decided to kill him. Or to put someone else in his quarters, which would have been no less audacious.        

“Croc, it’s me,” Diablo hastens to say, and lights up a flame over his left palm – so unusual and out of place in the dampness of Croc’s cell. Croc freezes and watches the flame for some seconds. That must really be Diablo; there are hardly many people in the world capable of such tricks.

“Hey, man,” Croc says. “Whatcha doing here?”

“Just checking up on you.”

Well, that must definitely be Diablo. Croc knows that there are hardly many people in the world who’d care to check up on him, but that sounds like something El Diablo would do. Back then, during the mission, he was friendly, asked “You okay?” after each skirmish, and could clap him on the shoulder without shuddering. And there are definitely even less people in the world that would touch him willingly.      

“Did they just let you in like that?” wonders Croc. Diablo gives him a slight smile.

“They don’t know I’m here.”

“So you’re, like, a ghost?” Croc asks. It occurred to him from the very beginning, but it sounds particularly joyless when said out loud.

Diablo gestures vaguely. “I’m still figuring it out myself, to be honest.”

“Hmm,” Croc glances over his cell. A bag of food on the cot catches his eye. “You want a burger?”

“Nah, I’m good. Save it for yourself.”

“They’ll bring more today, I’m telling ya.”  

“Then I want one.”

“Then you’re not a ghost,” grins Croc, and the fact that Diablo doesn’t flinch or try to look away also proves that this is the real Chato Santana, because most people don’t like seeing Croc smile.

And so he and Diablo, who kind of is a ghost but kind of isn’t, sit there eating burgers and watching some crap on MTV. Life has taught Croc not to be surprised by anything, so everything’s fine.  

“So what happened after the bomb went off?” Croc asks. Diablo opens his mouth, and then closes it again, apparently at a loss how to explain.

“I was smoke,” he speaks finally. “Then I was flames. Then I became myself again.”

“I see,” Croc replies, although, of course, he can’t see shit.

“Who are you talking to?” comes the guard’s voice from behind the door. “Hey, scum!”

Croc puts the burger aside.

“Wait a bit,” he tells Chato, gets up, and heads for the door.

When he comes to the bean hole, the guard already looks like he regrets calling him.  

“No one,” Crock smiles as widely as only he can, and the guard, who isn’t among the people able to watch him smile without blinking an eye, steps back reflexively. “But come inside, and I’ll talk to you if you wanna. How about that?”   

When he turns around, Chato has already disappeared, and Croc could have assumed he has dreamed it all, but there are two half-eaten burgers on the cot, not one.

  Digger sees him next, and he isn’t even amazed. The bastards keep drugging him with all sorts of shit to calm him down. Usually after the shot he just lies there, feverish, and can’t even move, let alone stand up, but who knows, perhaps they’re testing some new poison on him. Or they’ve started using something stronger because they noticed that a couple of hours after the usual stuff he’s already able to yell, bang at the door, and do everything he can to get the best of them while cooped up inside. Or it’s simply that there’s already so much of this shit in his blood that it’s impossible not to have any screws loose, try as he might to keep them in place. In any case, he’s not exactly shocked when, as he tosses and turns on the floor after another injection, he turns his head and sees El Diablo, large as life and twice as ugly.

“Fuck me sideways,” Digger says. He doesn’t have any energy to be mad yet. “I must be tripping.”

“You’re not tripping,” Diablo objects.

“You died. So I must be.”  

“I didn’t die either.”

Diablo sits down cross-legged on the floor next to him.

“Has it crossed your mind that if you stop getting on their nerves, they might start treating you better?” he asks.

“Go to hell.”

“Message received.”

There’s a footfall outside; a whole bunch of people must be running somewhere.

“They’ve turned the entire joint upside down,” says Digger, because it’s been ages since he has spoken to anyone who’d at least pretend to listen, so a hallucination will do. “Blondie escaped.”  

“I know,” Diablo replies gloomily. “I tried to warn her not to go with the Joker, but she didn’t listen to me.”  

“Why warn her?” Digger asks. Harley Quinn is no bosom friend of his, but she kind of tore out the heart of the witch who kind of tried to end the world, and anyway, teammates probably should take interest in each other’s lives. Probably. He’s never really made sense of that teamwork stuff. “What’s he gonna do to her?”    

“At best, what he always does.”

Two tiny figures of fire appear on Diablo’s open palm – a man and a woman. The man backhands the woman across her face, and she falls down. Digger watches the dancing flames with fascination, and meanwhile in his head, bit by bit, stroke by stroke, a plan starts to take shape. He wouldn’t be Captain motherfucking Boomerang if he fails to use any opportunity that turns up – even a ghost of one. 

“Listen, mate,” he begins cajolingly. “If you’re really here and it’s not just me tripping… help an old friend out, won’t you? I’m fed up with being stuck here, you know.”

“I’m not gonna help you escape,” Diablo says calmly. “How do you imagine that would even happen?”

“Can’t you just burn the entire Belle Reve to the bloody ground?”

Diablo smiles.

“I can,” he admits. “But I won’t.”

The next thing he knows, the son of a bitch is gone without a trace. Anger and offence must be giving Digger strength, because he manages to leap to his feet. Like a lunatic, he thrashes around the cell, looking for at least some kind of proof that someone else was here a moment ago.  

“Oi!” he shouts, knowing damn well that the guards have long stopped listening to what he has to say. “Grab the devil! A convict escaped! Hey, wankers!”  

But he’s feeling lightheaded, and this shit must be really strong, and he collapses, badly hitting his head.  

  Tatsu sees him next – late at night, in her apartment. She’s a light sleeper, and wakes up as soon as she hears footsteps. The sword is close at hand, and she grabs it instantly, blade swishing through the air.  

“Who’s there?” Tatsu asks, and then repeats in English. “Who’s there?”

There is nowhere to hide in her bedroom. The only furniture is the mattress and the pair of chairs she uses to hang her clothes on. Everything is on the floor or on the windowsill – weapons, her laptop, the book she tried to read before going to sleep but could not concentrate on. It is an ascetic, comfortless dwelling that does not look permanent and is not supposed to become so. Fate and Amanda Waller, though, seem to have other plans in this respect.  

There is nowhere to hide in her bedroom – but someone’s definitely walking in the antechamber; she flings the door open – and sees El Diablo, standing by the entrance and looking around. In a blink of an eye Tatsu is next to him, and the blade of the Soultaker is pressed to his neck.  

“Katana, it’s me,” Diablo says, unfazed. “Chato Santana.”

“Chato Santana is dead,” she says through her teeth. Chato Santana was a gangster who killed, albeit by a tragic accident, his own family – but she fought side by side with him, he sacrificed himself to save the world, he called their squad his family and died for them. That is enough for her not to let anyone use his name as a cover. “Who are you?”    

“I’m alive,” Diablo replies. He puts his hands up to show he’s unarmed, and forks of flame appear on his palms. “Or sort of.”  

Sort of.

Tatsu lowers the sword and looks warily at the man standing in front of her.

“How did you…”

“You’re gonna have a new mission soon. Demand that Waller tells you everything.”

“About what?”

“I couldn’t overhear that,” he says with regret. “But…”

Something knocks on the window. Tatsu turns around quickly, but that must’ve been just a tree branch hitting the windowpane. When she turns back to Chato, he’s already gone, and her apartment is silent.

It’s just four in the morning, but she can’t make herself fall asleep again. Having poured a cup of tea, Tatsu sits down on the mattress and thinks, think, thinks about what just happened. Tatsu believes in ghosts – her sword is teeming with them, so she wouldn’t say that her worldview is shaken. Still, this is strange, very strange. What did he want to tell her? Why did he disappear so abruptly? Like… a broadcast was interrupted.    

Colonel Flag calls her at daybreak and tells her that there’s a shoot-out between two gangs on the outskirts of Gotham, with metahumans on both sides. When Tatsu arrives at Belle Reve, it turns out they must have considered it to be not enough to ruin her Saturday morning, because she is asked – more like ordered, actually – to escort an inmate from his cell, an inmate who attacks anyone who tries to enter and has already injured three guards with his bare hands, and it’s not reasonable to sedate him before the mission, and “he’s likely to obey if it’s you, Katana” – the last is Rick’s argument, and if he told that to her face and not on the phone, she would have had to strain every nerve not to hit him with something.    

No one tries to attack her when she enters the cell of Captain Boomerang – Harkness is sitting on the floor quite still, his arms around his knees, and when he notices her, he even smiles with bruised lips.  

“Hello, gorgeous,” he says. “Am I hallucinating you too?”

“No,” the question is unexpected and confuses her. “Why?”

“Well, they keep injecting me some crap, and lately I’ve been seeing things,” Harkness explains peacefully, even eagerly. His voice is quiet and hoarse, which, combined with his Australian accent, leads to Tatsu being barely able to make out half of what he’s saying. To hear him better, she crouches down next to him, still gripping the sword hilt – there is no telling if he isn’t just making her come closer to take her down and bolt. “Saw the devil yesterday.”      

“The devil?”

“Our devil. Día… de fucking Muertos. Chato Santana.”

Tatsu gives a shiver and, having lost her balance, half sits down, half falls on the dirty floor.

She isn’t the only one to have seen him. She isn’t the only one he wanted to send a message to.

“Hey, luv,” Harkness frowns and reaches out to touch her knee lightly. “You all right?”  

“Same as you, more or less,” she wants to reply, which of course would mean she isn’t, not at all.

“What did he tell you?” she asks him instead.

  When Floyd sees him, he is hardly surprised, since the others have already warned him. Boomerang, Croc, and Katana tell him everything while they’re waiting for the helo, and had it been just Boomerang, who believes inexplicably that he has a sense of humour although he certainly doesn’t, Floyd most likely wouldn’t have believed his ghost stories, but it is even harder to believe that Croc, let alone Katana would agree to take part in such pranks. Which is why he listens to them closely and takes note: okay, then he doesn’t have to worry about his mental heath if the late Santana suddenly appears out of nowhere to give some advice or share some news or simply ask how he’s doing. So the four of them keep whispering to one another like kids at the back of the class until their transport arrives – just the four of them, which is a pity. If there is anyone on the team that he had missed a little, it’s Harley. Floyd knows some things about the Joker, for it isn’t possible, as they write in the papers, to belong to the criminal world of Gotham and not know anything about the Joker. Floyd knows what Flag had spilled to him when visiting him in his cell or escorting him there after a visit to Zoe. Floyd thinks that in his entire lifetime he hasn’t understood a thing about love – is it even possible to understand it, on the other hand? – but he feels like the mad and brilliant Harley, Harley the whimsical, Harley the loving deserves better.                

“What’s with the gossiping?” Flag inquires suspiciously.  

“Nothing!” Croc and Digger answer in unison, in unison, and Floyd facepalms because seriously, are they in some cheesy movie or what? They don’t tell Flag anything yet, but Floyd is almost sure that sooner or later Santana will visit him as well, because Flag is one of them too, after all. Not that he’s even trying to deny it; no one’s making him drop by Floyd’s cell every other day to chat about some nonsense through the steel door.          

So Floyd is hardly surprised when, as he makes his way behind the dumpsters loading one gun after another, he notices a familiar, head-to-toe-tattooed figure standing nearby.  

“There are snipers on the roof over there and around the corner of the shop,” Chato says instead of greeting. Floyd nods.

“I noticed.”

“Eight men in the drugstore on the other side of the street. Each with a machine gun.”  

“How do you know?”

“I’ve just been there.”

“Got it,” there’s no time for lengthy conversations. No time to say: glad you’re alive, man. No time to ascertain: are you alive, though? So he thinks over the plan of action, making a mental note to ask all these questions later, when there are no bullets whistling past their ears.  

People like them deserve no guardian angels, frankly speaking, but they may have managed to earn one for all of them.

[tinyboxxtink]

"Black Magic" *Part 11*

Ooops I MAY have lied before....

More angst comin 'atcha babes.

I'm sorry. We're getting there, I promise. I just love watching you cryyyyy!!!

I'm just kidding I love you all please don't stop reading my stuff.

(fun fact these are Raul's actual hands! It's from a LOF promo. THE FINGIES THO)

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So weird note here it won't let me edit this post on my computer for some reason to add the link to the new chapter and it looks stupid in the app but whatever....I hate this place sometimes. 🤨

You went the next day straight to Rafael’s office, but when you walked into the DA’s building, it was empty. What the hell was happening? Has the whole world gone nuts?

Before you turned to leave, one of the other assistant’s came out of the public bathroom.

“Hey YN, didn’t you get fired?”

“No-- Yes-- It’s a long story,”

“Well either way, I thought for sure you'd be the first one over to the church,” She chuckled.

“I'm sorry, what?” You felt your heart stop.

“The church? Where your subject of obsession is getting married?”

“I'm sorry, WHAT?”

“People talk, Y/N. Word is you’re obsessed with Barba, screaming at him and his fiancée like an unhinged psycho,” She tried not to laugh at you.

“I…” You began to have another panic attack.

“He can't ..how did she...he CAN'T….” You started hyperventilating.

“Ooookay I'm gonna leave you here for your mental breakdown. She scoffed and walked out. You immediately bolted out behind her, dialing Maria’s number, thanking God she gave it to you the other day.

“Hola?”

"Maria he's….he's getting married,” You gasped for air.

“Y/N? What are you talking about?”

“Rafael….he’s getting…” You tried to breathe. “He’s getting married, RIGHT NOW.”

“That doesn’t make sense, Raffi would never rush into something so--”

“You said it yourself Maria, that’s NOT Rafael,”

“You’re right. Well if there’s any trace of my Raffi, there’s only one church he’d get married at. I’ll text you the address and meet you there.”

“Okay…” You started to cry as you caught your breath.

“Hey, mija don’t give up yet, it’s not over!” Maria assured you.

“Okay…” You breathed, and hung up the phone.

-----

At the church you and Maria dashed around to find the groomsman room. You found it and Maria guarded the door.

You busted in without knocking to see Rafael straightening his tie, his tuxedo jacket hung on the mirror. He turned and stared at you in confusion.

“I...I’m sorry sweetie, are you lost?” He had concerns in his eyes. Concern for a ‘stranger’. You hoped it was because he knew you deep down, but you also knew Rafael was just a wonderful man who cared for all.

“You can't marry her Rafael” You said breathlessly, tired from running around the church.

“I’m sorry, what?” He half laughed, grabbing his jacket to put it on. You put a hand up to stop him.

“Because you don't love her,”

“I don't? Really?” He gave you an amused smile.

“No! She's using some kind of spell on you.” You cried.

“...Okay, is this some kind of prank? Is this Carisi’s idea of a joke?” Rafael continued to laugh, looking down the hall to see if Carisi was waiting to yell “GOTCHA COUNSELOR!”

“No, look you have to believe me. She’s been giving you an elixir that makes you think you’re in love with her.”

“...Um, okay seriously, this isn’t funny anymore sweetie,” He stopped laughing.

“I’m not kidding!” You stomped your foot,

“Look honey I’m-- I’m sorry, you must be confused. Did you come here with someone or--?” He put on a patronizing voice.

“I’m not some mental patient Rafael, l'm Y/N! Don’t you remember me? Look at me!” You stepped in front of the mirror.

“....No, I can’t say that I do. Really sweetie you need to--”

“STOP calling me sweetie. STOP patronizing me, and fucking LISTEN to me!!!!”

“...Okay, fine. Then I’m sorry you crazy person, but get the hell out of my dressing room,” He turned serious.

“No! Look listen to me Rafael, you don’t love Liv. She has you under some kind of bat crap crazy concoction of spells to keep you under her control!”

“Okay you’re ACTUALLY insane, how the hell did you get in here?”

“I came with Maria,”

“Maria? How do you know Maria? Oh did MARIA put you up to this?! God I know she was pissed I told her not to come, but to send a mental patient--”

“I’m not a fucking mental patient!” You yelled.

“And I’M not under some kind of bizarre spell,” He yelled back.

“Ok then….why do you think you feel stronger and stronger about Olivia every day?” You asked.

“Are you kidding me? Um sweetheart that's what you call being in love. You fall more and more everyday.” he scoffed.

“Not like that and you know it.” You challenged. “It doesn’t feel like that, I know it doesn’t. I KNOW you find it weird,”

“You don’t know anything about me. I love Liv and--”

“Then why are you doing this SO fast?” You cut him off.

“Excuse me?”

“You barely proposed to her a few days ago-- which by the way, NOT your idea,” You rolled your eyes.

“Wow...you are really...are you stalking me or something?” He narrowed his eyes.

“No, but I know you. You wouldn’t just rush into something like this,” You told him.

“It’s not rushing, honey. We’ve known each other for YEARS,” He scoffed with a laugh.

“Then why? Why now? Why is it SO urgent that you get married RIGHT now?!” You stomped your foot.

“BECUASE I LOVE HER YOU FUCKING PSYCHO!!” He screamed in your face angrily.

“No, you don’t! You didn’t take her to Maria, you didn’t take her to your special place. But you took me,” You didn't back down, you matched his volume as tears lined your eyes.

“And why would I do that? Because I was in love with you? Did I just forget an entire relationship with someone I’ve never met?” He was still yelling.

“No I--” You looked down in shame.

“You what?” He crossed his arms.

“.....I used it first,” You said softly.

“Excuse me?“

“I used it first, okay?” You said tears in your eyes. “I used an enhancement spell on you that made you fall in love with me for a day,”

“Ohhhh I SEE,” he chuckled mockingly. “So what you’re really saying is Olivia is playing your game, just better?”

“NO!” You screamed. “No, the stuff I used only enhanced stuff you already felt. Hers FABRICATED them. And I only used them for ONE DAY, because I love you enough to not want to keep you for myself if it’s not real,”

“But you just claimed it was real,” he pointed out.

“I didn’t know that at the time-- LOOK,” You grabbed his hands. “The only thing that matters is that Olivia is trapping you,”

“With magic.” He looked at you again with amusement.

“Yeah…” You didn’t like this.

“That I assume she got from you?” He nodded at you.

“No she used black magic, I used good magic,”

“Oh right right, the good magic that manipulates feelings. Of course,” He nodded sarcastically.

“Dammit Rafael I’m telling you the truth! I know the real you is there, deep down somewhere. I know he is and I know how he feels about me.

“Right...look you need to let this insane crush of yours go, lady. I don’t know how you know who I am, but I have zero clue who you are,”

“That's not true. I know that's not true,”

“Oh really?” He laughed sarcastically.

“You look like a penguin,” You simply said.

“I'm sorry, what?” He continued to laugh mockingly.

“You look like a penguin,” You looked into his eyes, trying to distract him so you could pour the vial you had in your bra into his coffee next to the mirror.

So now you're just resulting to insulting me? Look you--- Oh my god what the FUCK are you doing?!” He grabbed your hand before you reached the cup. He held it and stared wide eyed at the pink vial.

“What the FUCK is wrong with you? Did...Did some criminals send you? The Diablos have pretty girls doing their dirty work for them?”

“What? No--”

“Ohhh wait,” He became sarcastic again. “So you try and counteract ‘Evil’ Olivia’s ‘magic’ with your own ‘good’ magic, is that it?”

“...I mean--”

“Alright I was tolerating you before, but if you don’t leave RIGHT now, I’m going to call security.” He swiped the vial from you and smashed it on the ground.

“NO!!!!” You dropped to your knees in devastation. That was the one thing-- the ONE thing, besides--- Well, there was no fucking way you were getting anywhere near his lips at this point. You racked your brain, trying to think of something, anything.

“....Your middle name is Eduardo,” You said softly, still on your knees.

“...What did you just say?” Rafael’s face went from amused to shock.

“Your middle name is Eduardo. You tell everybody that it's Antonio but really it's Eduardo. You don't want anybody to know your real middle name because it’s your father’s name,”

“How did you--” He tried to ask but you weren’t done.

“Eduardo used to beat you and because of that you hate him and you don't want anything to be associated with him.” You stood up, not breaking eye contact.

“....How the hell… “ He looked at you. “...You DID use magic didn’t you?” Rafael gasped.

“Yes but I--”

“You used magic to read my mind didn’t you? You used it to manipulate me and try and use my deepest secret into trying to make me think I loved you." He looked at you in disgust.

"No, it's not--" You tried to explain, but Rafael wouldn't stop.

"...That we had this perfect day together, that-- that what I bared my soul to you because I was so safe with you? So IN LOVE with you?" He spat.

"You ARE!!!!" You were crying now.

“Alright that’s it I’m calling security….” He muttered angrily.

“No! Wait, Rafael please...just….just look into my eyes,” you begged. Maybe if he stared at you, he’d remember that day when you held him and planted that memory. You went to grab his hands but he pushed you away from him.

“Get the hell away from me you psycho! SECURITY!” He moved past you and opened the door. “SECURITY!”

“No! Rafael! Please, oh god please, please PLEASE you have to remember. Remember I told you about my Broadway dream, just like yours” He was looking down the hall for a security guard, you were still yelling at him.

“Stop it.” He tried ignoring your words while looking both ways down the halls.

“...And and I told you about how my parents died and you said that you used to play and dance and sing at your abuela’s house because it was the only place you felt safe--”

“STOP IT!” He threw his hands over his ears.

“And then you told me that it wasn't until you met me that you felt that safe again. With ME!!!!” You were sobbing now, trying to get him to remember.

“SHUT UP!!!!!” He screamed, his eyes flashed a bright neon purple. Suddenly two men grabbed either of your arms and started dragging you away.

“Look, Rafael--” You fought the security guards.

"What?" Rafael held up his hand for the guards to stop and let you talk.

"Just answer me this: Even if, EVEN IF you think that I-- I used some mind control and 'took' that memory from you-- have you told Liv?"

"Told Liv what?"

"That story, that memory. Your real middle name!" You felt fresh tears falling, and you swear you saw the purple fade for a moment in Rafael's eyes.

"...Of course I have--" He shook his head with a sarcastic laugh.

"No you haven't. I know you haven't, because I straight up ASKED her what your middle name was, and she said it was Antonio," You smirked at him.

"Well, that's because I haven't had a chance to tell her--"

"You can lie to me all you want Rafael, but you need to really ask yourself why haven't you told her? In the YEARS that you've been 'in love'? Why have you never felt safe enough with her to tell her your deepest darkest shame? Does that sound like 'true love' to you? Does that even compute with what you THINK you feel about her?"

Rafael eyes darted back and forth, purple and blue swirled around violently as he took in your words. But he fought them, and shook it out of his head.

"Whatever, stop trying to play mind games with me you witch," He waved his hands for the guards to take you away, but you added one last thing:

“I’m going to go to your favorite spot in the city, the one place you go to when you’ve had a really long day or a bad day in court. If you go there, and I’m there-- you’ll know I’m telling the truth.”

“Yeah, OKAY. He rolled his eyes. “I’ll be busy getting married, psychopath,” He nodded for the men to drag you out but you broke free and walked out yourself, at least you’d have dignity.

You walked out of the church and broke down in tears. Both Maria and Chloe were waiting for you, they ran to hug you as you fell down sobbing.

“Aw honey, oh baby--” Maria held you while you cried.

“We--We have to go,” You tried to get yourself under control.

“Go? Go Where?” Chloe looked at you confused.

“Central Park,” You simply said.

You had to believe in your love now. That’s all you had left.