#and vincenzo is looking to join them

[doubledeadstudio]

How would the LI-s react if someone would be openly flirting with the mc right in front of them, but the mc is the type who is too scared to say no.

RIGHT IN FRONT OF THEM? Good god.

If Black notices MC is into it, he'd just storm off all mad. But he's sensitive enough to smell fear in MC, and the moment he smells they're uncomfortable, he'll grab them by the front of the shirt and toss them across the room. He'll be like "BACK OFF."

Vincenzo will grab their hand with their claw and twist their arm. He'll be like, "Can I break your arm? Can I? Can I? 😊" And he'll keep twisting until they force themselves to say "yes" and then he'll break it. And then he'd be like "See? I had the decency to ask you if I could break your arm, unlike you who just assumed you could join our conversation." He'll lead MC somewhere else and kick the guy while they're down.

Crux would wrap his arm around MC and be like, "Whoa! That's my partner you're talking to!" and then he'll be like "Actually, that's great timing, because we're looking for a third and we're into some nasty stuff." He will then go in long detail about horrible kinks he'd want to do to the guy until they run away.

[drama--universe]

Poly Soulmates

Requested by @elysiangroundsforall: Hi! I sent an request when your requests were unfortunately closed. I'll request this scenario again and if you're not comfortable with writing it I understand. Though i did some changes to it. Vincenzo universe but with soulmate au! and Y/N's soulmates are Vincenzo, Han Seo and Han Seok though their rivalry goes on they don't k!ll each other knowing k!lling any one of them would k!ll their soulmate. Y/N is in trouble or is maybe kidnapped and all three join forces to save her? Thank you <3, :)

Pairing: Vincenzo Cassano x gn!reader; Jang Han-Seo x gn!reader; Jang Han-Seok x gn!reader

Han-Seo is in love with his mark from the day he gets it, wearing it with pride

he's also very careful to not get hurt, because then you'd get hurt

Han-Seok doesn't really care

when he was ten, he had even wanted to carve it off his skin, but it re-appeared when his skin healed

Vincenzo is also more careful, as much as he can be anyway

while still a mafia worker, he did everything to not get hurt too badly

hence why he mostly remains on the sidelines, choosing to be a lawyer with occasional missions when he just has to shoot from a far distance or just burn down a place

you and Vincenzo meet first

after he comes to Korea

at first, you don't realize

because he's always wearing suits that cover his whole body

You also covered your arms most of the times due to the fact that you had three marks

it happens, funnily enough, that Han-Seo is the first to realize you and him were soulmates

because he wears his mark with pride

you are happy when you see his mark, showing your own that matched

which prompted Han-Seo to turn all smiley and happy

only to then see the other two marks

one, he recognizes as Han-Seok's

the other he doesn't

but due to the commotion, Vincenzo looks towards you

and spots his mark on your arm next

so now Vincenzo and Han-Seo know they share you

it doesn't take long for Han-Seok to find out either, because Han-Seo tells him on accident

so now you have three men around you

two who are way too overprotective

surprisingly, Han-Seok and Vincenzo being those two

while Vincenzo and Han-Seo take you out and give you gifts, Han-Seok is more subtle in his affections

like finding your stuff in the exact spots you search for, or to find small things you needed around the house

even with the rivalry between all three, they come to live in some kind of peace

that doesn't mean that Vincenzo and Han-Seok don't keep fighting

but they keep that on the professional side, the personal one they get along

not too much, but enough to not kill or hurt each other

because surprisingly they all care a lot

so while blocking each other from winning the battle

but around you they are surprisingly civil with one another

someday, it just happens that one of Han-Seok's enemies found you

now, of course, you're afraid

because these guys have guns and daggers that they're not afraid to use

but you also have a psychopath, a mafia guy consigliere as boyfriends

when they get the news, all three are pissed

but mostly Han-Seok

because you are his

and he's territorial

after about 2 hours after the message, you are back home with Han-Seo

he's comforting you while Han-Seok and Vincenzo stayed behind

you could only have pity on the men who kidnapped you

they only reappear in the morning after having showered and cleaned up

but you don't miss the blood stained clothes in the trash, however

it takes awhile for them to be less overprotective again

you get nowhere without at least one of them near

overall, they are great boyfriends in their own ways

and they will kill for you

or at least two of them will

but Han-Seo will trash talk the life out of someone

they all love you a lot

even if that means sharing you

[g00seg1raffe]

A (comparatively) Brief Thought about Steve Harrington's Names

Lucky Stevie has full names in three different languages and they're all equally incriminating in different ways!

For context: Steve's parents meet just as the summer of '66 is ending, in a perfectly legitimate bar with absolutely no connection to organised crime in Chicago. They introduce themselves as Christopher (call me Chris, Christopher is shite) Harrington and Anita (but you, bello, can call me Tina) Martino. They are both lying.

See, America is it's own little world. Founded by desperate refugees and religious extremists, the USA is the New York of the western world - the perfect place to disappear, because no matter your sins, there's always someone weirder. And in this totally not shady bar in Chicago, these two strangers have a lot of sins.

Mr. Ciarán Ótis Marcin Ó'hArrachtáin is what some might call a terrorist. Those 'some' are, of course, all eejits who seem to be fecking delirah with the Brits treating the Irish Free State as a colony. But Ótis and Martyna didn't raise a spineless dosser, not on tales of the shite they saw in Nazi Poland. Ciarán wants to be just like his mama, so does the only thing he can at sweet sixteen and joins the IRA. It was a grand old time - until some spanner decided to start the boarder campaign, make some things go boom, then it all goes arseways and suddenly he's a wanted man. Now he's legged it all the way out to this bar in Chicago where he can find some mostly-legal work, set himself up as someone who doesn't need to check over his shoulder every five seconds - and maybe he can take a chance on this absolute ride of an Italian who's just walked in, Jaysus -

Sig.na Alessia Stefania "Pieterina" Serafini has made a name for herself as a mafiosa. Beloved, wild, ruthless granddaughter of Don Alessio - caporegime since nineteen and well on her way to consigliere - and, right now, in molti problemi with la Cosa Nostra. So much problemi that she's been effectively smuggled into the US, like that goddamn heroin shipment that started all these problemi... ah well. She just needs to lie low for a bit (a decade) with her American cousins on the less than legal side of Chicago before she can return to her cosca and the people she actually trusts not to stab her the moment she turns her back - and maybe she can have some fun with this bello, bello Irishman who's looking her way, dannazione -

So. Discussing the evolution Mr and Mrs Harrington's relationship is gonna have to wait (though I'd love to hear from you guys) - the important thing here is the family history.

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

Tina's side: Alessia Stefania "Pietrina" Serafini.

Tina's father is Vincenzo Serafini and her grandfather is Alessio Serafini. Her first name is the feminine of her paternal grandfather's name. Steve's middle names are also from them.

(In case it wasn't obvious, the Serafini family are heavily involved in the Italian mafia - potentially involved in the Ciaculli massacre in '63 - and also have ties to the American mafia.)

Tina's mother is Pietra Tedesco and her grandmother is Stefania Tedesco. Her middle name - Stefania - and her son's first name - Stefano - are from her maternal grandmother. "Pietrina" is a diminutive nickname for Pietra - they're saying she's just like her mother, and since they figured this would be easy and natural enough for Steve to remember, his agreed Italian 'cover' surname is Di Pietro.

(Pietra is the feminine of her father's Petri Tedesco - which is itself the new name chosen by the German runaway Peter Thälmann. No relation to German Communist Party Leader Ernst Thälman, no sir, nothing to see here.)

So: Stefano Alessio Vincenzo Serafini - or, when he doesn't want to advertise the mafia part - Stefano Di Pietro.

Chris' side: Ciarán Ótis Marcin Ó'hArrachtáin.

Chris' father is Ótis Ó'hArrachtáin, and his paternal grandparents Steafán and Keira Ó'hArrachtáin. He gets his first name from the masculine of his grandmother's name, his middle name from his father, and gave Steve his grandfather's name.

(Steafán and Keira worked their asses off their whole life to put their kids through school, ennabling Ótis to work at the Irish embassy in Poland, where he managed to smuggle a handful of refugees past the Nazis to Britain, of which his future wife, Hannia Marcinkiewicz, was one.)

Chris' mother is Anita Marcinkiewicz. He gets his middle name from her surname. Steve gets his Irish 'cover' surname from that.

(Anita and her son are very similar as teenagers and young adults - the same heady cocktail of jaded rage and a naïve sense of justice, motivating spiky teens in parallel shitty situations to commit near-suicidal acts of heroism, with similar results. Just what did Anita do? Nothing you can prove, of course...)

(Yes, Anita Marcinkiewicz and Anita Martino - a wild coincidence that kicks of conversation for our young lovers in Chicago. Not in any way manipulated by an omnipotent fangirl who wants her OCs to have something neat to make slightly awkward but unexpectedly wholesome small talk about over a Guinness and a Negroni in a bar in Chicago). (This is why Chris calls his wife Tina all the time when anyone else would get shot if she's feeling anything less than saccharine.)

So: Steofán Ciarán Ótis Ó'hArrachtáin - or, when he'd rather avoid any connection to the wanted terrorist - Steofán Ó Máirtín.

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

Of course, as half Irish and half Italian - or, well, 1/8 German, 2/8 Polish, 2/8 Irish and 3/8 Italian but who's counting. Aside from me -

The point is, he's Catholic as fuck. He can be non-practicing and still Catholic (bc fuckboi), he can lose his faith and still be Catholic (bc interdimensional hell monsters), he can be an atheist (bc Irish) and still be Catholic, ok - he is Italian and Irish, there's no cure.

So, yeah, he's definitely been christened. And sure, you can old give any old name to the government (fuck them anyways) as long as it suits your purposes. But your christening name is the one that God knows you by, okay, you don't want to lie to the priest and end up with the wrong name tag when you get to heaven (or if, I guess).

What I'm saying is the paperwork says Steven Otis Harrington, but some poor Father/Reverendo gets hit with Stefano Stiofán Alessio Ciarán Vincenzo Ótis Serafini Ó'hArrachtáin. Good fucking luck!

[peakyswritings]

Like Father Like Daughter

A/N: March 19th is Father’s Day in Italy, so I decided to make this little something for Nina and Vincenzo. I don’t even know how my brain came up with this, I wrote it very quickly. I basically woke up and decided to break my own heart - and yours, as if the way things ended between Nina and her father in the first Act wasn’t enough. Anyway, the first chapter of the second Act will be out soon.

Nina Ferrante is the OC from my Tommy Shelby x OC series Heart, Body and Soul

Music echoed through the Ferrante House as Nina’s fingers gracefully danced over the piano keys. A stream of notes chasing each other, entangling and unraveling, weaving a melancholic and somewhat haunting melody. The kind of music no one would ever believe was being played by ear.

The kind of music he had always been able to play as well.

Vincenzo had always thought his daughter was a bit too much like her mother. She had inherited her sharpness, and her watchful eye, and the fragility safely hidden under layers of defensiveness and thick skin. But as of late, he had found himself taking note of the things he recognised as his own.

The unyielding stubbornness. The restless mind. The tendency to act as if everything she wanted was there for the taking.

She reached to grasp what life had to give with the same ease she captured the fragments inside her head and turned them into music, without ever having taken a single lesson in her life.

Just like him.

Nina was too intelligent for her own good. She saw too much, understood too much. She was too capable, and for that she wanted more than she was allowed to have. Her brain worked in ways he often failed to understand.

Contrary to what he let on, he saw his daughter very clearly. And what he saw scared him. Because the world would not accept it, not from her. It would rip her to shreds. Forcing her to keep her feet on the ground, however cruel, was the only way he had to protect her.

The music came to a halt. Noticing his presence, Nina had raised her head from the keys, and was now looking at him with amused curiosity.

“Do you want to play with me?”

That one question sent Vincenzo back to when she was still a little girl, and would insist for him to play four hands with her. So many things had changed, since then. Those moments were long gone, and would never come again. They were nothing more than memories to be cherished.

Yet, she had almost sounded like the child she used to be.

He eased himself from the wall and joined her on the piano stool, and he felt like his heart could burst when her lips curved into a dimpled smile. A smile that had become so rare. Also because of him. It was the price to pay for her safety.

He had made a promise, when Nina was born. No harm would ever come to her as long as he lived. And he intended to keep that promise.

Whatever the cost.

Heart, Body and Sould tag list

@zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark

@kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1

@gaslysainz @brummiereader @loverhymeswith @fairypitou @prettywhenicry4

@mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @woofgocows @girlwith-thepearlearring @goblinjnr @outlanderuniverse

@citylights31 @neonpurplestars89-blog @outlanderuniverse @red-riding-wood @evita-shelby

@look-at-the-soul @gathania93 @wonderlanddreamer @thelastemzy @meadows5

@mischievouslittlecreature @seedlings-stuff @misslittlegetou @strangeobsessed

[lostheaventales]

A Little Rendezvous Pt.1

Description: Tommy went straight to Lucas Bertone’s shop to get the prize Lucas promised to him after he won the race. That prize leads to a bit of a predicament.

Relationship: Tommy Angelo x Lucas Bertone

(Note : I’m not good at writing smut so sorry if this is kinda cringe.)

Gift for Anon

⚠️Warning⚠️: Smut, Mpreg

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After changing into some more comfortable clothes, Tommy joined the party. Vincenzo greeted him with a handshake and was all smiles. Salieri gave him some money. Sarah shared a bottle of booze with him. He’d never been celebrated like this before. It was different, but he liked it. He felt like a celebrity.

Tommy was approached by Lucas Bertone, the mechanic who interfered with Lichtenberg’s car. His cheeks turned hot and red. It was a hard pill to swallow when he realized that he had an attraction for the younger man. He didn’t know what it was about him. His blue eyes that matched the color of the heaven’s above, the quickness of his hand, or the slight Italian accent that rolled off his tongue with ease. Whatever it was, it held onto him tight on a leash. They’ve only just met the night before and he found himself acting like a schoolgirl with a crush whenever he comes to mind. He didn’t know anything about him, which included his preferences in romance. It was unlikely he would get what he so badly wanted.

Lucas reached his hand out for a handshake, which Tommy gladly took. “Hey, Tom, I just want to thank you for stepping in like you did. I had six months rent ridin’ on that race. I’d be homeless now, if not for you.” He sounded as if he was on the brink of tears.

“I just did what the Don asked, Lucas,” Tommy said, trying to keep his composure.

There was a slight shift in his tone. “Well, you gotta let me find a way to repay you.” He smiled. “Stop by my garage tonight when you get the chance. I might have something for you.” He winked as he walked away.

Shivers were sent down his spine. Tommy cleared his throat, finding it hard to move. When he finally was able regain control of his body, he went on a short scavenger hunt to find Paulie, who, according to the people who’ve seen him, was heavily drunk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After dropping an intoxicated Paulie off at his apartment and grabbing a bite to eat, he went straight to Lucas’s garage. He walked to the opened roll-up door. Lucas finally noticed he was there. He wasn’t wearing his overalls or his hat, presenting his slicked-back brown hair. Before he could say anything, Lucas wrapped his arms around his neck.

“Great, you’re here.” Lucas unexpectedly kissed his lips.

Tommy’s breathing quickened. “So what is that something you promised me?”

Lucas kissed his lips again. “You’ll see.”

He went to close and lock the garage door. What he imagined was finally happening. He was hoping this wasn’t a wet dream. Lucas began unbuttoning his shirt Once a good amount of his chest was exposed, Lucas rubbed his hands over the skin while kissing him. There was a familiar tightening in his crotch. It was becoming uncomfortable, getting in the way of him fully enjoying the moment.

Tommy began unbuckling his belt. “Do you mind if I take these off?”

“No, not at all. In matter of fact…” He looked down at the clear bulge tucked away in his underwear. “You look way better with them off.”

Lucas placed his palm on his groin and squeezed. He crouched, then pulled out his hard cock. Tommy sighed as Lucas guided it into his mouth. Lucas smoothed his tongue up and down his shaft. He closed his eyes, moans uncontrollably leaving his mouth. Despite being only seconds since they started, Tommy felt himself getting closer to the edge.

Tommy grabbed onto Lucas’s face to get him to stop. “Bend over. I need more of you.”

Lucas nodded, licking his lips. He leaned over a stack of wooden crates as support. Tommy grabbed his cock and inserted it into Lucas’s tight hole. He thrusted inside of him, loosening the skin around his cock. The crates shook with the momentum of their bodies.

“Fuck, Tommy! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Lucas screamed. “You’re so fucking big. Fuck!”

Tommy slapped his ass cheek. “Yeah? You feel so fucking amazing.”

“Fuck! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!” Lucas moaned out.

Tommy felt his climax reach its peak. A massive wave of relief washed over him as he finished., which confirmed this wasn’t a wet dream. This was actually happening. A wet dream wouldn’t let him get this far. They put their clothes back on once they returned to their senses.

“Have I repaid you?” Lucas asked, caressing his cheek.

“You have repaid me very well.” Tommy slowly rebuttoned his shirt. “Will I be seeing you again?”

“Yeah. Will I be seeing you again?” Lucas asked.

“You know you will.” Tommy smiled, slightly pinching Lucas’s cheek.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3 Months Later

Tommy was sitting at Luigi’s bar, having a nice conversation and drink with the elderly man. A tap on his shoulder caught his attention. He turned around to see Lucas. Tommy smiled at him, but Lucas didn’t look happy.

“Hey, Lucas. You alright?” He furrowed his brow.

“C-Can we talk in private please?” Lucas looked around nervously.

Seeing his quick glances at every angle of the room, Tommy thought he was in trouble and possibly needed to go on the run. The constant looking over his shoulder made Tommy feel uneasy. They went to the billiards room. Tommy closed the door behind him.

“Are you alright?” Tommy placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

“I’m pregnant,” Lucas blurted.

It was like the world had stopped spinning when he heard those words leave his mouth.

“A-Are you sure?” Tommy asked, trying to see if there was a possibility that Lucas could be mistake something else as pregnancy.

Lucas opened his coat and pulled up his shirt, revealing his rounded abdomen. It wasn’t big, but it was obvious that there was a baby in there. “Shit, how far along are you?” Tommy put his hand on his bump.

“Three months. I just found out.” Lucas covered up his bump.

He went on how, for months, he tried to ignore the symptoms. Blaming the nausea on food not agreeing with him. Putting the weight gain on working out much. It eventually came to a point where he couldn’t ignore it. He went to the doctor where he discovered the news.

“What are we going to do?” Lucas cried.

Tommy embraced him. “Don’t worry. I’ll support you every step of the way.”

Lucas sunk into the embrace, relaxing his head on Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy knew one day parenthood would find him. He was glad that it was Lucas he was creating a family with. Despite not knowing each other for long, Tommy could see a very bright future ahead of them as they worked together as parents.

[astra-galaxie]

Hi Astra!!!

I wanted to know: What is the reaction of the Flying Squad members to Vinnie's new look?

Just going to tag this post first for reference to Vinnie’s new look.

Arthur Wright

Arthur was already aware of the changes to Vinnie’s appearance as Argo had informed him of the plan before Vinnie’s first day of work. As weary as he was to have an ex-gangster working on the Squad, he had to commend Vinnie and Argo for going the extra mile to keep Vinnie safe by disguising him. Still, even though he’d been told about the changes, it took him slightly off guard when he saw them in person for the first time. However, Arthur is nothing if not a professional, so he recovered quickly before anyone caught the surprise on his face.

Isaac Bontemps

Isaac was one of the first on the Squad to see Vinnie's new look, and he didn’t even recognize the man when he first saw him! He knew Vinnie would be joining the team, and while he wasn’t thrilled by the idea, he understood it was the best option for keeping Vinnie safe, but that doesn’t mean he was looking forward to working with the ex-gangster. But regardless of Isaac’s thoughts on the deal, he was slightly embarrassed to admit the disguise fooled him, as he knew when Vinnie’s start date was and yet he still asked Argo who the unknown man with him was when his partner arrived for their shift.

Maddie O’Malley

Since Maddie had interacted with Vinnie several times before he became her newest co-worker, she was one of the most familiar with his appearance out of the Squad. So it took her a minute to put things together when she saw Vinnie’s new look, as she knew it was him, but she couldn't replace the image she already had of him in her mind. But in time, she would adapt to his new look and get used to seeing him with facial and brown hair instead of the light stubble and black hair.

Richard “Dick” Wells

Somehow, Dick immidielty knew it was Vinnie when first saw the Italian, even before Argo made introductions. When asked how the coroner knew, Dick simply replied he could tell it was Vinnie by the way he walked and carried himself, much to the Italian brothers’ confusion. But Dick assured them it wasn’t something the average person tended to pick up on, so the disguise would do well in conceling Vinnie’s identity.

Viola Pemberton

With how obsessed with theatre and dressing in costumes Viola is, she greatly appreciated how well Vinnie executed his disguise. The style was still made for the Italian instead of going overboard and trying something he wouldn’t be comfortable in. Viola is sure he’ll be able to easily blend into society with his new look. She also offered to help him find products to help clean his hair without washing out the dye and protect the strands from damage.

Rose Zhao

Similar to Voila, Rose agrees that Vinnie's disguise was excellent, but more from an undercover work perspective rather than a theatrical one. It was simple but enough of a change that people wouldn’t identify him unless they knew him well, and in time, the image of Vinnie’s real appearance would fade and be replaced with “Vincenzo Acquafredda”. The only thing that might give him away was the scar, but his new beard distracted from it, so Rose didn’t have any complaints. But she did offer to teach him some tricks to help him go unnoticed and evade his enemies.

Charlie Dupont

Charlie is far from a fashion expert, so while he can’t speak for the craftsmanship of the clothing (though he assumes their high quality, given that Răzvan made them), he will say the new look suited Vinnie. He knows the clothes were fancier than the Italians typically wore, and Charlie could understand the feeling of adapting to new clothes. Still, he was sure Vinnie would become more comfortable and make them his own. As for the new hair and beard, while he didn’t know Vinnie before the dye and style change, Charlie thought it looked good, and was an almost perfect disguise without taking away everything that made Vinnie who he was. Even if the old him couldn’t technically exist anymore.

Evie Holloway

Evie was the only one on the team who saw Vinnie with his new look without Argo present. Argo had gotten called away, leaving Vinnie behind to wander the airship. He ended up in Evie’s library, and she assumed he was a visitor until he introduced herself. Evie is slightly ashamed to confess that she was nervous about being alone with the ex-gangster, even if Argo trusts Vinnie enough to make him his brother. However, she quickly learned she had nothing to worry about after Vinnie noticed a map of Italy on her work table and struck up a conversation about it with the archivist. Argo found the two later in a deep discussion about Italy, with Vinnie answering Evie’s questions since she wanted to visit one day.

Diego del Lobo

As impressed as Diego was with Vinnie’s new look to disguise himself, Diego couldn't pass up the opportunity to tease the Italian. The first thing he said after being officially introduced to “Vincenzo” was to tease Vinnie that it was a major improvement, much to Argo’s dismay. Thankfully, the two didn’t get into a fight, not that Vinnie’s claims of being the better-looking brunette were any help! However, on a serious note, Diego admired the craftsmanship of the clothing and had no complaints about the designs, but he did offer to design some clothes if Vinnie ever needed more.

Argo Acquafredda

Given the fact that Argo helped Vinnie dye his hair brown, he wasn’t as surprised by the new look as the others were, since he saw the transformation as it happened. But it still made him do a double-take when he saw Vinnie’s completed disguise for the first time. While Vinnie wasn’t biologically related to Moray and therefore didn’t share any physical characteristics, seeing the brown hair and beard on Vinnie made him look like his fake father. Argo might not have the best memory of Moray, but the haircut was similar to how the sailor styled his, and Argo couldn’t help but wonder what life would be like if Moray were still around and if he would be happy to have another son…

[catharsis-in-darkness]

Family Affairs: Chapter One

Authors Note: This definitely took longer than expected, so i’m sorry for the wait!

Pairing: Vinny Mauro x Reader

CW: Fluff, Mentions of children, Implied smut

Word count: 1,053

Tags: @tearfallpixie @jilliemiw86 @vinyardmauro

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon for me and Vin. He was streaming and playing WoW, while I was sitting on the couch next to him reading a book. He would occasionally look over at me, making sure I was okay as he had been streaming for nearly 4 hours. I would always give him a nod back before continuing on with my book. Eventually I drifted off to sleep, waking up to Vin picking me up off the couch.

“C’mon Princess, let’s get you to bed.” He carried me bridal style into our bedroom and set me softly on our bed. I reached my arms out towards him, attempting to get him to join me. I grumbled when my hands were met with air.

“Let me change first, love.” I threw my head back with a groan, finally prying my eyes open to look at him. We made eye contact as he was pulling his shirt off. I wiggled my eyebrows at him. He laughed softly at my antics before laying down next to me. Lifting his arm so I could lay on his chest.

“I love you Y/N.” He murmured into my hair. I softly kissed his chest. “I love you more Vincenzo.” I whispered into his skin.

Vinny and I met at a gaming convention 3 years ago. It was the best thing to ever happen to me.

*flashback*

“Oh my god! Y/N we have to go over to the WoW tent!!” My best friend Logan, grabbed my hand pulling me along. I wasn’t paying attention to where we were going. Logan loved video games, I on the other sucked at them. I only played for fun, on occasion.

“Oh shit!” Was all I heard before my body crashed into another, causing my coffee to spill all over me. I let out a gasp looking down at my now soaked clothes.

“I am so so sorry! Let me help you.” A rushed voice met my ears as I looked up to see a head of messy curls scrambling to grab napkins from a nearby table. He grabbed as many as he could from the dispenser making his way back to me. The unknown man started wiping at my jeans hurriedly.

“Don’t even worry about it, they’re old jeans anyways. It’s probably time I get rid of them.” I tried to lighten the mood, but the panic was set on his face. I softly grabbed his hands, attempting to grab a napkin from him. “Fuck dude, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” He apologized yet again.

“I promise it’s okay.” I smiled at him. He finally looked me in the eye. The realization of how attractive this man was hit me. He had a curly bob, with red money pieces. He looked flustered, a light blush covering his cheeks.

“Let me make it up to you, please.” My brow raised at that. He obviously feels bad and it was an accident.

“No, it’s okay I promise you uh…” I dragged on.

“Vinny, my name is Vinny.” He finished for me.

He ended up buying me a new coffee, and ever since then we’ve been inseparable.

*present*

“You know I always think of what would’ve happened if you never ran into me that day.” I gasped, lightly smacking his chest. “You ran into me!” The accusation leaving my mouth hurriedly. He grabbed my hand that smacked him and intertwined our fingers.

“I know mama, I’m just messing with you.” He chuckled, his thumbs soothing running over my knuckles.

“Go to bed, idiot.”

“As long as I’m YOUR idiot.”

I woke up before Vin and got up to make us breakfast. I giggled at his groans of protest before slipping on the shirt he discarded of his body last night. Today the boys were leaving for a 3 month long tour. To say I was sad, was an understatement.

Getting used to Vinny being gone for long periods of time has been a struggle. Even after 3 years, my heart still pangs at the thought of him leaving. I was pulled from my thoughts as warm arms wrapped around my waist.

“Good morning, Princess.” Vin murmured into my skin, as he placed kisses along my shoulder. “Good morning, Love. Did you sleep okay?” I basked in the warmth of his body as I whisked some eggs in a bowl.

“I slept like a baby, I always do when you’re next to me.” I rolled my eyes at the corny comment before I turned to face him. Nervousness started bubbling in my stomach as I looked into his eyes.

“So uh- When are we gonna make some?” I questioned shyly.

“When are we gonna make what?” He asked, moving around me to start cooking the scrambled eggs. He grabbed a pack of sausage out of the fridge and threw them in a pan, all while I watched him silently. He noticed my silence quickly turning to look at me.

“Babies. When are we gonna make some mini Vincenzo’s and Y/N’s?” His head tilted at my question, almost looking like a confused puppy. His brows furrowed and a look of surprise washed over his facial features.

“You- You want to have kids??” His tone was uneven. Fuck this was a mistake wasn’t it? I should’ve known better with touring that he wouldn’t want to settle down and have kids. We’re not even married yet, for fucks sake.

“You’re right, it was a dumb question.” I awkwardly turned around hiding the embarrassment on my face.

“Look at me, Princess. Whenever you’re ready, I’m ready. It wasn’t a dumb question. I’d love to have children with you. I don’t call you Mama, just for fun.” He grabbed me softly, forcing me to look into his eyes. I heard the slight sarcasm towards the end of his sentence.

“You actually wanna have kids, Vin?” My eyes started watering. Of course, he does. We had that conversation very early on in our relationship. Why was I doubting him before? God my brain is so stupid sometimes.

“Of course, my love. In fact, we can start right now.” His brows wiggled in anticipation. After the stove was turned off, our breakfast was long forgotten about as we raced into the bedroom.

Part 2

[whiteredrose13]

AAAAAA, OKAY-- @persephone-s-moon I could not find their updated refs for the life of me, so, woe, busted old concept art be upon ye. (Excuse the wonky proportions, these were done on my phone.)

Shortest rundown I can manage:

Did someone order a tragic throuple with time-travel/reincarnation shenanigans and a side of hurt/comfort/fluff?

Candavata Bhatia: Elven queen, from the kingdom of Sona, and the baddest bitch to ever live. In order to prove herself worthy of holding the crown over her sisters, she needed to channel one of the gods. So, not only did she channel one, she called upon Bijalee, the embodiment of lightning and storms--and the most difficult one to channel due to her wild and hazardous nature. She has been the only person to do so, aside from the First Queen. This earned her the titles of Storm Bringer and Lightning Tamer. She and Qamar are married and have been best friends since childhood. Can you tell I love her?

(Side note: Editing this on my laptop and holy ashy tone, Batman. Hoping it's just my screen because my girl does NOT look like this, I promise--)

Qamar Abn awaa: Werejackal prince, devout cleric of Layl, goddess of the night and medicine, and the definition of the "I'm a healer, but--" meme. He managed to show both great power and promise from an early age when, during a political visit to the Sona royal court, he used his knowledge of anatomy to turn one of Candavata's would-be assassins inside out. This is where he and Candi's marriage was arranged. He is of a generally very sunny disposition, which often makes people underestimate him, as they assume he's useless in serious situations--but, when shit hits the fan, he's the one you want to be next to. (I started designing him when I did not understand how to map out locs or braids. Qamar, my prince, I am so sorry, I swear I will do right by you and fix whatever monstrosity I gave you.)

Vincenzo Virago: Vampire duke. The intersection of an emotionally constipated killing machine and massive nerd failure. He's head over heels for both Candi and Qamar, but he doesn't feel like he can tell them, due to the fact that he views himself as unlovable, both wanting and growing jealous of them. (He is completely oblivious to the fact that they are also in love with him.) He's terrified of turning into his father, but it seems like everything he does only turns him further down that path. He's a warlord. He's a wet cat. He needs therapy.

It's a stable, constant dynamic. You never see one without the other. Where Qamar goes, Candi is right beside him, and Vince is right behind them. Whenever something goes wrong, usually they're at the center of it, all having different roles in the trouble. Candi, the planner, Qamar, the keen lookout, and Vince, the instigator. He keeps the two of them grounded, on their toes, and they do what they can to keep him away from his father. Even after they graduate and take their places in their respective castes, they stay in touch.

The story itself begins at the worst part of their relationship.

At this point, Candavata and Qamar have been married and are tending to their responsibilities as king and queen of their joined empire. Though they try to stay in touch with Vincenzo, it's difficult--and Vince doesn't make it easy, either. Over the years, he becomes withdrawn. He stops answering their letters, he refuses to see them when they come in person, every time. After a while, they stop trying. Not because they don't love him, they do, but there's only so much you can do when a person doesn't want (or doesn't think they deserve) help.

Vincenzo, after years of sitting with the jealousy and battling his father's horrendous treatment, broke. He didn't just spiral, he nose-dived, doubling down on every bit of gossip and rumor, until he's changed and warped into something even he can't recognize. He shuts out Candi and Qamar. Maybe he doesn't want to taint them, maybe he thinks this is how it was meant to go, maybe he can't stand their gentle hands or the pitying look in their eyes. Maybe he just wants the excuse. Whatever it is, Vincenzo becomes a monster, with blood on his hands.

In the end, Candi and Qamar had to be the ones to put him down.

Which is where we get into the time/reincarnation fuckery.

Because, when the pain fades and Vincenzo opens his eyes, expecting to see whatever eternal damnation looks like, he sees his university bedroom. Littered with textbooks and letters from Candi and Qamar, and his graduation robes hanging on the back of the door.

He's got a second chance to go back and unfuck everything, but only time will tell if he'll succeed or end up exactly where he was before.

Something, something, breaking cycles and being open with your loved ones, allowing yourself to be loved by others and yourself, and sometimes men are at their best covered in blood and a little bit pathetic.

(Oh, and, you want a really fun fact? Vince isn't the only one who remembers the original timeline.)

[avichor]

name. macy pronouns. she / her preferred comms. discord but only after chatting a bit on tumblr dms to suss out vibes unless we've interacted a lot on dash name of muse. literally my entire roster . and no it is not getting trimmed idk how to do that //: experience in RP. i started tumblr rp in 2019 but i was on fb rp since like. 2009? best experiences. h8 to say it but when i joined the desc rpc in late 2019 it was probs the highlight of my rp experience on tumblr, purely bc i was just so new to tumblr rp and naive and excitable so i looked past a lot of things i wouldn't tolerate now. it was the most involved rpc - wise i'd ever been — co-owned a server, created and joined events, actually had sm fun that i haven't really been able to replicate ( but i think it's a given with how much my irl has changed and the time i can even spend on tumblr rp ), and then decimated that rpc :D joining grishaverse rpc is a close second, and then my time writing vincenzo was my last source of unbridled joy ;p outside of rpc experiences, it was the long - lasting friendships and relationship formed. pet peeves / dealbreakers. i have a lot and i've stopped pretending that i don't for the sake of making everyone happy or appearing "nice" or "peaceful". there's a lot of highly questionable behavior that goes on in the rpc ( that goes ignored bc people like to "its just rp let people have fun" ) that it doesn't really stop at pet peeves or dealbreakers for me but rather smth i think really needs to be fixed. anyways most of them can be found in my rules within the dni section! but lack of communication is a huuuuuuuuge pet peeve. also lack of taking accountability, victim - mentality, people who aren't normal about duplicates, people who are freaks, etc. muse preference ( fluff, angst, smut ). none as a singular ?? i get bored with just fluff, i get distraught with too much angst, and i get tired of pure smut ( i'm also just extremely picky with who i'd write actual smut with, it's only one person ). i do prefer threads that are actionable in some sense, when it's purely philosophical discussions or mostly introspection i check out reeeeeaaaal fast. plot or memes. both! but given my lack of energy and time, memes have been really helpful as a tool for me to get to things without relying on active plotting. but ultimately i would like to plot so we have something that works longterm. long or short replies. both! it really depends on the substance because there could be novella type threads that. don't do much, and short threads that actually pack quite a lot into what's written. best time to write. night <3 are you like your muse. the muse types i go for have been less predictable lately, but previously i would gravitate towards baddie fems and clown mascs, some vein of mentally ill, and i think that kinda perfectly encapsulates me as a person. i am a baddie ( real ) and i am very stupid.

tagged by. stolen from @starspurn <3 tagging. @ninkaku , @adamanteine , @bllakcat , @prryhic . @gritandgear , and whoever hasn't done this !!

[yvesdemetz]

@mobscene-starters For: Anyone who's important and French. Mostly Commandants. Location: St. Clair Estate, Greater London. Date: 21/8/24.

"You should really go to a hospital. Get that checked out..." "There are already nine members of this organisation in the hospital tonight, Patrice. Let's not fucking add to it unnecessarily, hm?"

Utter moron.

"Be useful. Find me Vincenzo Vespucci. If I see your face here again and he's not standing right behind you, I'll break your fucking legs. Are we clear?"

Perhaps luckily for the petrified man before him (and the integrity of his spine, for that matter) the Frenchman's tirade was interrupted by the announcement of an arrival. Yves didn't blame them for taking some time to get there. Central London was, for the most part, on lockdown after what'd happened. Trying to get in or out of the city was a feat, and given that most of them were congregated right at ground zero, he was surprised to be joined by anybody at all.

When Patrice finally scarpered, Yves looked toward his new company. Fixed up the collar of his bloodied shirt. Lit a cigarette.

"Sit down."

[bongaboi]

Olympiakos: 2024 UEFA Europa Conference League Winners

ATHENS, Greece (AP) — Setting off wild celebrations in Athens, Olympiakos won Greece’s first European club title by beating Fiorentina 1-0 with a goal in extra time of the Europa Conference League final on Wednesday.

Ayoub El Kaabi provided the dramatic ending, diving to nudge in a last-gasp goal in the second period of extra time, with fans erupting in celebration after a lengthy wait for a VAR check for offside.

“Praise be to God, we promised our supporters we’d do this today and we did it,” El Kaabi said.

The Morocco striker – who finished as the competition’s top scorer – struck in the 116th minute of the match and dropped to his knees as he waited to see if the goal would stand after he had met a cross from Santiago Hezze.

The goal decided a game that had looked destined for a penalty shootout following an energetic but largely risk-free encounter at AEK Arena, and condemned Fiorentina and its coach Vincenzo Italiano to a second straight defeat in the final of the Europa Conference League after losing last year to West Ham.

“We created chances and had the opportunity to lift the cup but unfortunately it didn’t happy – I’m sorry,” Italiano said. “In Europe it’s not an easy thing to get this far and lose.”

Olympiakos coach Jose Luis Mendilibar secured a second straight European title after winning the Europa League with Sevilla last season.

“It’s an honor to have made all these people happy, I feel immense joy and happiness to have made people feel this way and I dedicate it to them,” Mendilibar said.

“We have achieved something that our club has never achieved before. We will celebrate it and celebrate it the way we should. Then we will start working on what comes next.” Tens of thousands of Olympiakos fans joined boisterous celebrations across the Greek capital after attending outdoor viewing parties. Youths held up lit flares in the port city of Piraeus, near Athens, where the team is based.

Greek Prime Minister Kyriakos Mitsotakis described Olympiakos as “a true legend,” adding in an online post: “Olympiakos has won the Europa Conference League and made history! A sensational night for the club itself, but also for Greek football as a whole.”

The third-tier European club competition took place amid a massive security operation, with some 5,000 police officers forming concentric cordons around a northern area of the capital – amid Europe-wide security concerns this summer for major sporting events including the Paris Olympics and European soccer championship in Germany.

The final was briefly marred by scuffles between Fiorentina fans inside the stadium and riot police next to them.

Although the visitors dominated the early stages of the final, Fiorentina goalkeeper Pietro Terracciano kept his team in the game with two impressive fingertip saves to block on-target shots from Daniel Podence in the fourth minute and Stevan Jovetic in the sixth minute of extra time.

El Kaabi, who scored a total of 11 goals in the competition, had been largely sidelined in the match by Fiorentina’s unyielding four-man defense.

Olympiakos players celebrated with 15,000 fans after the game, some holding their young children as golden confetti was fired into the air around the awards podium.

“It’s the best emotion I’ve felt so far in my career,” defender Panagiotis Retsos said. “I’ve had a lot of ups-and-downs but I’m very, very happy to be here.”

[idolskpop]

Congrats to Lee Dal for getting married! He’s one of my favorite actors from Vincenzo. I hope he invited Song Joong Ki and Jeon Yeo Bin to his wedding. That would be awesome #LeeDalWedding #VincenzoSquad #Vincenzo #LeeDal #LeeDalMarryNonShowbizGirlfriend

Vincenzo star Lee Dal is ready to say “I do” to his non-showbiz girlfriend in a private ceremony this week. The actor, who played Jeon Soo Nam in the hit Netflix drama, announced his upcoming wedding on his Instagram account.

'Vincenzo' Star Lee Dal’s Wedding Announcement

On October 11, a media outlet reported that Lee Dal and his fiancée, who was a production staff member of his 2021 series “Police University,” will tie the knot on October 14 in Seoul. The wedding will be attended by their family and close friends.

(Photo : tvN's Official Twitter) Lee Dal’s agency, Beasts Entertainment, confirmed the news and asked for the fans’ warm support and blessings for the couple. The actor also shared a photo of his wedding invitation card on his Instagram, along with a caption that read: “Hello, this is Lee Dal. I’m writing this to share some good news with you. I’m getting married to someone I love on October 14. She is not a celebrity, but she has been a great source of strength and comfort for me. I’m very grateful to her for accepting me as I am. We decided to have a small and quiet wedding with our family and close friends, considering the current situation. I hope you understand and respect our decision. I will continue to work hard as an actor and show you good sides of myself. Thank you for always supporting me and loving me.”

Lee Dal’s Acting Career

Lee Dal made his acting debut in 2014 with the acclaimed drama "Misaeng: Incomplete Life." Since then, he has appeared in various dramas and movies, such as “Signal,” “Black,” “Two Cops,” “Be Melodramatic,” “Hospital Playlist,” “Vincenzo,” and “Police University.”

(Photo : tvN's Official Instagram) He is known for his comedic timing and versatile acting skills, as well as his friendly personality and good looks. He gained more popularity and recognition for his role as Jeon Soo Nam in “Vincenzo,” where he showed great chemistry with the lead actors Song Joong Ki and Jeon Yeo Bin, as well as the other Geumga Plaza members.

(Photo : Jo Han Chul Instagram) He is currently filming for several upcoming projects, such as “Taxi Driver 2,” “The Heavenly Idol,” “The Empire,” and "Today’s Webtoon."

Fans’ Reactions

Fans of Lee Dal expressed their congratulations and happiness for the actor’s wedding news. They also wished him and his bride-to-be a happy and blessed marriage.

(Photo : Lee Dal Instagram) Some of the comments from the fans are: “Congratulations Lee Dal! You deserve all the happiness in the world!” “Wow, I’m so happy for him! He’s such a talented and charming actor. I hope he and his wife will have a beautiful life together.” “I’m so proud of him! He’s one of my favorite actors from Vincenzo. He always makes me laugh with his hilarious expressions. I’m glad he found his true love.” "He’s so handsome and sweet. I’m sure his wife is very lucky to have him. Congratulations to the lovely couple!" “I can’t believe he’s getting married! He’s such a catch! I hope he will invite some of his co-stars from Vincenzo to his wedding. That would be awesome!” Lee Dal is the latest K-drama actor to join the married club this year. He will exchange vows with his non-showbiz girlfriend on October 14 in a private ceremony. We congratulate Lee Dal and his fiancée on their wedding and wish them all the best for their future. What do you think of Lee Dal’s wedding news? Are you a fan of his acting? Let us know your thoughts in the comments below! Subscribe to IDOLS KPOP for exclusive updates and captivating content. Read the full article

[24worldnewsnet]

outhBBC Sport senior journalist44 minutes agoSun, sea and a city basking in the triumphant glow of its recent Scudetto. Naples is an easy sell for wealthy footballers looking for a new experience this summer."If you are rich, Naples is amazing," lauds journalist Vincenzo Credendino. "One day you pick up the boat you go to Capri, another day you go to Amalfi, to Pompeii. You eat good, there are a lot of things to do. Naples, if you are rich, is very attractive. It has always been like this."While estate agents have long pointed new arrivals to the luxury hillside villas of Posillipo, it is a recent phenomenon that those enticed to Napoli by president Aurelio de Laurentiis are coming from the Premier League.After Scott McTominay, who joined from Manchester United, earned cult status in Campania for spearheading Napoli's Serie A success, the film producer-turned-football club owner returned to add six-time Premier League winner Kevin de Bruyne to head coach Antonio Conte's ranks.He joins Romelu Lukaku and Billy Gilmour as others prised from the Premier League payroll since the Conte era began last summer.And there could be more.De Bruyne's former City team-mate Jack Grealish - a £100m signing from Aston Villa four years ago - has also been linked, as has United winger Alejandro Garnacho, while Credendino believes there is interest in United and England forward Jadon Sancho, who spent last season on loan at Chelsea."People in Napoli are thinking Aurelio de Laurentiis is going crazy," laughs Credendino. "In our mind, he is the president who tries to win, clearly, but always by putting the finances first, always being very careful about the economic side and doing a lot of player trading."That was the core business of Napoli. Now things have changed. Aurelio de Laurentiis is smelling the blood of the opponent, of the enemies."Getty ImagesNapoli won Serie A last season for the fourth time in their history and the second time in three seasons. The first two titles, in 1987 and 1990, came during the Diego Maradona era. In 2023, Luciano Spalletti won their first Scudetto in 33 years before Conte steered I Partenopei to last season's triumph.Conte's side finished one point above Inter Milan, who lost successful boss Simone Inzaghi to Saudi Arabian side Al-Hilal earlier this month. Atalanta, who finished third, also saw long-term head coach Gian Piero Gasperini, the man who led them to Europa League glory two years ago, leave for Roma.Traditional powerhouses Juventus are undergoing something of a restructure, while AC Milan will not compete in Europe next season. As their rivals stall, Napoli are looking to capitalise."Napoli is very stable. They plan before others so they have the money to convince a player like De Bruyne to embrace this new adventure," explains Federico Mari, a Milan-based international football executive who specialises in transfer strategies, club acquisitions, MCO and cross-border strategy. According to Transfermarkt, Napoli rank 30th on a list of the world's most valuable clubs - below 15 Premier League sides and fifth among Italian clubs.They went bankrupt in 2004, dropping into the third tier, and were acquired by De Laurentiis, who guided them back into Serie A by 2007. They have been European regulars since, winning the Coppa Italia three times and, finally, those long-awaited league titles."Napoli is a very well-run club," says Mari. "For the De Laurentiis family, Napoli is their main family business and the past 10-15 years they have managed to do well both on the pitch, but also off the pitch."Mari highlights the sales of Gonzalo Higuain to Juventus for £75.3m, and Khvicha Kvaratskhelia (£59m) and Edinson Cavani (£55m) to Paris St-Germain. Napoli spent more than £70m on Victor Osimhen in 2020 but, after a year on loan at Galatasaray, he is expected to leave this summer."They were very good at finding this talent and putting them in a place to do well, to play in Europe," adds Mari. "If you have this stability to gro

[fordphilipsfictionlibrary]

Black Mass (Original Novella) Pt. 1

Father Edmond Gouyet sat on the hard stone bench outside the abbot’s offices and tried to ignore the stifling heat around him. He had not been sitting here long, but already the situation was becoming uncomfortable. The large olive skinned Brother who had walked him from his taxi cab to this very spot was still standing a few feet from him. The man had not said much and Edmond was under the impression that this was because he spoke little to no English. Whether he was here as a companion or guard, Edmond wasn’t sure, but he guessed the latter based on what these people must have heard about him.

You see, Edmond Gouyet had not found himself in this small desert-bound abbey in the southwestern United States by choice. No, he had been placed here after years of disciplinary issues and two previous relocations. If he could not make things work here in the quiet of the New Mexican wilderness, he would be done as a man of the cloth.

His problems had started as a boy. Born in eastern France in 1918, Edmond had lived through parts of each of the World Wars, though he had been lucky enough to not see action in either, and the conflicts had cost him both his parents and much of his extended family. With only a few mildly wealthy uncles left to him, Edmond had joined the church at the tender age of seventeen. By eighteen they had made him a full fledged priest in anticipation of renewed hostilities with the Germans and he had been given duties in a small parish near the German border. In those early days Edmond’s biggest fear had been a wave of Nazi troops and tanks pushing into France, but that had been foolish. There were far worse things in this world than men hell-bent on power.

It was around this time that he had met Father Vincenzo Fantoni, an Italian priest who had been in the area for close to a decade. Father Fantoni had lived with the other priests in the area, though he was never given a mass to preside over and rarely interacted with his brothers. Edmond remembered asking after him once and being met only with tight lips and angry eyes. Preoccupied with the duties of a young priest on the verge of war time, Edmond might have been able to let the odd man fade from his mind, but that had not been the Lord’s plan.

A few weeks shy of his nineteenth birthday, Edmond had been administering Last Rites to an old woman dying of some sort of bloody cough as her traumatized husband watched on. Their home had been near the church and Edmond had been the only one available to go to them at the time. Had neither of these things been the case, perhaps Edmond would have been spared quite a bit of grief. Just as he had been finishing the sacrament, a man had burst into the small home, seemingly unconcerned with the sad state of the people within.

It had taken Edmond a second to recognize Father Fantoni and in that time Fantoni’s manic eyes had found his. “Are you finished here boy?” Fantoni had said sternly. Edmond had told him he was, very aware that ‘boy’ was not the way one priest was supposed to address another. “Then you need to come with me. Now.”

Edmond wished with all his being that he had protested, fought, did something, but he had not, and soon he and Father Fantoni were in one of the church’s horse drawn carts, speeding out of town and into the surrounding countryside. To Edmond’s horror, he had quickly realized that they were rushing towards to German border. He had turned to cry out to the mad priest driving the cart, but the look of intensity on the older man’s face had paralyzed his tongue and forced his eyes to look away and back to the empty road ahead.

Thirty minutes later they were in a small German village well outside of their diocese and realm of responsibility. Before Edmond could protest, a few things had caught his eye. The townspeople, many of whom seemed to be in the street awaiting their arrival, shared Father Fantoni’s look of serious unease. In addition to this there was a small crowd gathered around a modest looking home fifty feet from where Father Fantoni had brought the cart to a halt.

“With me boy,” Fantoni had said, dropping heavily to the muddy ground. Edmond had followed him towards the house where the small group had gathered. Fantoni had dismissed them before grabbing Edmond harshly by the wrist and saying, “Do you believe in the Devil boy? In the true evil that haunts this world?”

“Of course,” Edmond had said, trying in vain to retrieve his arm from the larger, older man.

“Inside this home is a boy, no more than thirteen, and he’s got a demon in him. I’ve been coming here for a week now and thought progress had been made. Not so. I’ll need a second set of hands and lungs. You’ll need to do what I say, exactly when I say it, or we could both lose our lives. Or worse,” Fantoni had said, making a sign of the cross.

 This initial invitation into the world of the damned had played over and over in Edmond’s mind ever since. He could recite it by heart, and had, many times. 

“Why me?” Edmond had asked.

“Those other men who call themselves priests do not look kindly upon my work. They will call for my help if needed of course, but until then a polite distaste is the best I can hope for. You on the other hand haven’t been in that collar long enough to cloud your head too much. You’re my best option at the moment. You can read Latin, yes?”

“Well enough,” Edmond had said.

The next thing Edmond knew he and Fantoni had pushed their way inside the house. The sitting room was occupied by three adults, the parents and a grandfather had been Edmond’s assumption, as well as by five or six other children under the age of ten. Fantoni had moved past these people without a word and to another door. Pushing it open, he stepped inside and Edmond had followed close behind. 

“Shut the door,” Fantoni had said.

Edmond had acquiesced before turning back around to take in the room they had just entered. It had been a bedroom, the parents’ by the look of it, and every surface that wasn’t a bed had been covered in small prayer candles like those you found in most chapels. This steady glow illuminated the young man Fantoni had spoken of and Edmond had been shocked by his condition. Emaciated as if he was living through a famine, the pale boy had been wearing nothing but his soiled undergarments and had been tied to the bed at the wrists and ankles with rough looking ropes. Upon their entry he had begun to seize and shake, spitting and howling as he fought to release himself.

“The Lord’s Prayer, a Hail Mary and then the Athanasian Creed. All in Latin, then repeat,” Fantoni had said, rolling up his sleeves and suddenly looking exhausted. “Once we begin, we must continue until the end. If we do not, this demon will become our own. Do you understand?”

Edmond had not, how could he have, but he had said yes. From there things had become a haze of heat, sweat and cacophonous noise. As Edmond fell into a trance-like rhythm of Latin prayer and the boy shrieked his hate and pain, Fantoni had let loose a litany of commands in Italian, French, German and Latin, all demanding their enemy leave this child and return to its master in hell. Just as Edmond had felt his throat becoming raw, the boy had let out one final shriek that had seemed to cut through Edmond like a bullet. 

“Do not stop,” Fantoni had said wearily as the boy’s body relaxed for the first time since they had arrived. “I must be sure.”

Exhausted but unwilling to disobey the man who had just guided him through whatever it was he’d just experienced, Edmond had continued his recitation. Fantoni had leaned over the boy, whispering and prodding at him as he made his way around the bed. For the boy’s part, he’d seemed on the verge of unconsciousness and merely moaned at each successive prod of the finger. After maybe ten minutes of this, Fantoni had held up a hand and Edmond had let his lips shut and given his voice a rest.

From here Edmond had taken on a secondary role as Fantoni spoke with the family in the sitting room. He had not understood anything said, to this day his German was poor, but money was exchanged and the family soon filed in to be with their sickly ward. Fantoni had watched them go before beckoning Edmond after him.

Once they were back at the cart, Fantoni had offered him a job as his assistant. He’d been told that if he accepted, Fantoni would make sure he was allowed to pursue this avenue of ministry. Edmond hadn’t needed to think twice, though he should have, and had agreed on the spot. Fantoni had seemed mildly pleased by this and on the cart ride back to France had explained that there would likely be more cases like this in the coming months. These things seemed to happen in bunches around a given locale, at least Fantoni thought so.

By the end of the week, Edmond had been relieved of all of his prior duties and put under the direct supervision of Father Fantoni. They’d spent much of their early time together going over old exorcisms that had or hadn’t gone according to plan. There were a shocking number of the latter half and this was the first time Edmond had wondered if he’d maybe made a mistake by jumping into this so quickly. It seemed to Edmond that the two main keys to success were persistence and more than one priest, if that could be managed. Exorcism had fallen out of favor with the modern clergy and finding one priest willing to do the job was hard enough in most instances. All of this talk was a good introduction, but it was the next two years that would prove his true trial by fire.

Over the next twenty four months Fantoni had learned of and presided over nine exorcisms in both Germany and France. Edmond had been at his side for each of these and had soon learned that no two exorcisms were the same. The age of the person possessed, the degree of their possession and the time and effort it took to save them, if they could be saved, all varied greatly. Of the nine people they tried to exorcise, two had died and one seemed to have permanent mental defects from the experience. None of the families had laid blame at their feet thankfully, but in each case Edmond had walked away feeling a deep sense of unease; they had gone toe to toe with the devil as servants of the Lord and lost. At least it felt that way to him. Fantoni had another view entirely. To him the goal was to remove the demon from the world, plain and simple. If the person could be saved in the process, all the better, but that was not his true aim.

Just as Edmond was turning twenty and war was becoming a certainty, a tenth case of possession had come to their attention. This one was in a southern Belgian town, again just over the border from France. A man’s daughter had arrived and said that her father had been taken by a demon. He had been routinely attacking her mother and siblings to the point that they had recently locked him in the barn. Fantoni had been worried the man was simply another abusive drunk, but had been so saddened by the girl’s desperation that he had agreed to come inspect the man.

What came next had been seared in Edmond’s mind since the day it had all come to pass. Fantoni, Edmond and the girl had all gotten on the same cart they had taken to Edmond’s first exorcism and headed north to Belgium. The ride had been long and they had arrived at the girl’s farm just as the sun was beginning to set. An older woman, the girl’s mother Edmond had always assumed, and a small huddle of children had greeted them, though no one had spoken a word. The older woman had simply pointed to the looming barn off in the distance. Telling the woman to take her children inside, Fantoni had beckoned Edmond to follow him to the nearby structure.

Edmond had obeyed, Bible in hand, and crossed the unkempt field to the leaning wooden shanty that passed as a barn. The two main doors were weathered, but had recently been secured by a heavy chain. There was no loft and thus no windows, so this barred entry had been the only way into or out of the barn. “Stay here,” Fantoni had said once they were within twenty feet of the door. 

Edmond had watched with bated breath as his mentor had moved gingerly towards the barn. He could still remember watching the older man’s hand reaching out to the heavy chain and, just as his fingers were about to touch it, the chain exploding. There was no light or sound, the heavy links simply sprang free from one another and dropped to the ground. Fantoni had slipped backwards onto the grassy ground and before he could right himself the broad shouldered figure of the barn’s owner darted out of the now unsecured doors. The man had been older than both of them, but much larger and stronger. His face had been twisted into the familiar snarl of the possessed and he had wasted no time in identifying the nearest threat.

The sound of the man’s thumbs destroying Fantoni’s eyes was one that still made Edmond’s stomach seize. He could not remember the other man screaming, though he must have, because his entire attention from that moment forward had been held by the demonic force before him. Eyes still burning with intense hate, the pained face had contorted into a demented smile that showed far too much teeth. Thumbs still locked in the dying priest’s skull, the smile had broken and a voice like none he had ever heard before had said, ‘This day is not your day to die holy man. But it will come. I will see to it. Your God will not save you from me. You are mine.’

Before Edmond could even consider what to do, the man had suddenly shot back from Fantoni’s now dead body. With his eyes still locked on Edmond’s, the man had winced as he jerked his head hard to the right with ungodly force, breaking his own neck and sending his body heavily to the dirt. It had only been a moment before Edmond himself had lost consciousness and another two days before he had come fully to his senses.

When he had finally been able to process what had happened, Edmond had known he was in deep trouble. With both Fantoni and the man they had been called to care for dead, scrutiny moved instantly to Edmond and the man’s family. Had the family wanted to put the whole ordeal on Edmond, they could have, but thankfully they did not. Each of them had apparently told similar versions of what had happened and the only true constant had been Edmond’s lack of involvement in the deaths. He remembered the man’s wife telling the investigators, ‘He just stood there and did nothing.’ There had been more than a little disgust in her voice, but in the end it was a part of what had kept him from legal troubles.

Once he was back in France though, he’d had the church to deal with. His monsignor was not angry, but he did seem to know that word of what had happened could not be allowed to spread. Within a week of Fantoni’s death, Edmond had been offered the choice of a new post in England or Portugal. Ready to leave France, but not feeling any particular pull to either place, he had asked his monsignor if perhaps there was an option in the Americas. His monsignor had promised to check and by the following week he had learned of an abbey in northern Maine, near Canada, that would accept him into their number.

Edmond had agreed to this solution without hesitation and had been given a further two weeks to gather his things, such as they were, and say his goodbyes. Without many friends to speak of, Edmond had spent most of his time roaming the countryside and praying. What had happened with Fantoni had already seemed like a bad dream by then, though he’d known that it had been all too real. The demon’s threat had also weighed heavily on his mind during this time, but with each day of peace after it’s utterance, he’d seemed to feel less and less disturbed by it.

When he finally boarded a boat for the United States, he’d pushed the events of a month prior almost entirely from his mind. Fantoni had been a good man, but ultimately their relationship had caused him nothing but trouble. Edmond had decided that once this ship left the dock, his new life would begin. Perhaps even the Devil would lose his scent with so much ocean between where he had been and where he was going.

After almost two full weeks at sea, Edmond had arrived in Boston. The city was unlike the small villages he was used to back home and he had not regretted only being there long enough for the local churchmen to arrange his passage north. The first half of the trip was by car and Edmond rather enjoyed watching the alien countryside flitting past as they sped north to Bangor. From Bangor he had accompanied a man who brought supplies to the abbey by horse cart every so often. This journey had been a bit less exciting and by the time they had arrived Edmond had been thoroughly exhausted.

His welcoming party had been far warmer than the one he had received here in the desert, but that was to be expected. So much had not yet happened to him by this point. The abbot had been a pleasant fellow, not as old and stern as the monsignors Edmond had grown up with, and the friars had all seemed good natured as well. They had taken his things, shown him his room and then proceeded to explain what his new way of life was going to look like.

Without parishioners to tend to there was very little need for most of the men who lived here to conduct mass or the sacraments. Every so often one or two of them might be needed in one of the smaller towns between here and Bangor, but according to the abbot this would not be a regular occurrence. That meant that most of the day was left open for tasks around the abbey. Outside of general cooking and cleaning, the main focus of this place had been their vegetable garden. Sprawling out over a few acres, this was the friars’ pride and joy. When neither the abbey nor the gardens required attention, contemplation and prayer were the default tasks.

Considering Edmond had only recently been preparing for a priesthood on the fields of battle, this change of pace had been more jarring than it perhaps should have been. The abbey and garden simply did not require the full attention of an entire monastery, so Edmond found himself with much too much free time and, try as he might to pray, his mind would inevitably wander to the event that had forced him to be so far from home.

After a few months though things started to improve. He began to make friends not only with the abbot and a good number of the friars, but with people in the surrounding area as well. There was a woman who brought surplus eggs every week or so, as well as an older couple that came by just to check on everyone, though Edmond thought the real reason was lonesomeness. Soon he had fallen into a routine that kept him content and prayer had once again become a bastion against the demons that plagued him.

War began in Europe within the year and early on Edmond found that he was far more interested than most of the people around him. It was his home, not theirs, that was being torn apart by German bombs and he understood their apathy even if he did begin to resent it. For the next five years war raged, the United States threw her hat in the ring and suddenly the war was all anyone could talk about. This period in Edmond’s life seemed like a blur and Fantoni crossed his mind no more than a handful of times. He had become wholly absorbed with war and little else but God could distract him.

By 1945 the war was over, won by the righteous parties, and what had become Edmond’s new normal fell away as if it had never happened. He was sure that, had he been in Europe, living amongst the rubble and destruction, this would not have been the case, but in Maine the war had ended when the radio had said it was so. Without something to hold his focus, Edmond had found his mind drifting back to prior unpleasantness. Try as he might to absorb himself with his duties and his prayers, Edmond could not seem to stop the backslide. 

As if this was not bad enough, in January of 1946 the woman who had brought them eggs every week, for years at that point, arrived in the dead of night in complete hysterics. The abbot had taken her to his quarters and ordered everyone to bed. Edmond, who had had no idea what was happening, had obliged without any hint of curiosity. He’d remembered quite well what had happened the last time he had involved himself in another’s business. 

Yet, to his surprise, not fifteen minutes passed between his arrival in his sleeping quarters and a sharp rap on the door. He had opened it to find the abbot there, looking nervous and uncomfortable. The man had not said much, but bade him come to his office. Edmond had followed him, nonplussed, and had soon found himself behind a locked door with only the abbot, one of the senior Friars and the woman he had become vaguely acquainted with over the years.

The second the woman began to speak, Edmond had felt his heart grow cold. Her son, a boy just shy of twelve, had come down with some sort of fever a few days back. The day before yesterday he had grown sullen and aggressive and last night she had found him chewing the heads off rats in the barn. She had locked him inside and come straight here. The devil had taken him, at least that was her assessment, and only they could help her

Edmond had heard her out and tried to keep as much of his fear hidden as possible. He was older now, far from the boy he had been back when all of this had started, but he hadn’t felt it then. When she had finished, he had kindly asked her to wait outside before directing his displeasure at the abbot. His past life had been meant to be kept a secret and until this moment he hadn’t even been sure that the abbot had known about his involvement with this aspect of Catholicism. The abbot had weathered his initial annoyance before begging him to check on the boy. If it was nothing they could have him carted down to Bangor for inspection, but God only knew what would happen to him there.    

Edmond had asked the men to give him a moment and they had. Edmond had prayed, asking God to guide him forward, all while wondering whether he was even up to this. Fantoni had clearly been training him to take his place, but they had not gotten very far. He knew what prayers to say and what other items to bring, but if Fantoni had fallen, what would keep Edmond, a relative novice, safe? 

God, a voice in his mind had said and that, at that time, had been enough to push him back into the world of the Devil.

The abbot had demanded that he be allowed to come along and so he, Edmond and the woman had all piled into her automobile and traveled in the dead of night to her farm an hour or so to the south. As Edmond and the abbot had approached the barn, Edmond had been struck with just how similar this situation was to his last outing. “Can you speak Latin?” he had asked the abbot.

“No,” the abbot had said, sounding frightened. “Are we in danger?”

“Of course,” Edmond had said. “The Devil is in that barn, abbot. We are in grave peril. Can you read Latin aloud if it is in front of you?”

“I can try,” the abbot had said.

“That will have to do,” Edmond had said. Drawing a mid-sized crucifix, a vial of holy water and his journal from his robes, he handed the journal to the abbot. “The Lord’s Prayer, a Hail Mary and then the Athanasian Creed are all on the first three pages. Read them through, loudly and in a clear voice, and then begin again. Do not stop until I tell you. Do you understand?”

“I do,” the man had responded, the journal open already.

“Begin,” Edmond had said before turning his attention to the barn. Walking slowly up to the doors Edmond had pressed his hand to the wooden door. As he did, something small, but angry, hit the other side and let out a screech of fury. “Let me out of here you bitch!” the inhuman voice had cried out. Edmond had waited a second to make sure the abbot had not been startled into silence before using the key the woman had given him to open the barn door. 

The boy had been waiting for him and Edmond only just managed to intercept him as he tried to dart out into the night. “Stop demon!” he had yelled as he’d driven the cross into the boy’s skin. A scream of anger and pain had left the boy as he’d crumpled to the ground. Without restraints, Edmond had simply pinned the boy beneath him as he began shouting down the various phrases he had heard Fantoni use in their time together. All had more or less the same message; ‘This is a child of God, leave him or suffer defeat at my hand.’ To his credit, the abbot had done his part and after a half hour of struggle the boy finally stopped fighting, the tightness lifted from his face and he slipped quietly into sleep. 

Edmond had left the farm a hero, albeit a secret one, and the fear he had felt on his way from the abbey had been replaced wholly by a triumphant glow as he returned. The abbot had been beyond grateful and expressed many times his thankfulness that God had sent Edmond to their abbey. Edmond had accepted the flattery, but begged the man not to spread word of what he had done. He would always help when needed, but he had not wanted a reputation for this sort of thing.

It had only been four months before the woman with the eggs had returned, this time with news that her sister’s husband had recently come down with the same sickness as her son. Unwilling to save one soul only to damn another with his inaction, Edmond and the abbot had again driven out with the woman, a bit farther south this time, to a farm just slightly bigger than the last. Luckily this family had managed to subdue the man and tied him to his bed in the main house. Again Edmond and the abbot worked to excise the demon. It had been a longer and more arduous process than before, but they had managed it in the end. The family had offered to pay them, but Edmond had just asked that they keep his name to themselves and continue to live in the light of Christ. 

Six months later another visitor, this one from Vermont and wholly unrelated to the last two people they had helped, arrived on their doorstep. The young woman had heard rumors that there was someone at the abbey who specialized in exorcisms. Their mother had recently become ill and while her daughters had first attributed her changes in mood and demeanor to her age, it had become clear to them something more nefarious was at work in their home. The woman had been locked away in her room for days and her daughters who had remained behind had piled up furniture in front of the door to keep her there.

The abbot had not outed Edmond immediately, but had seemed to think their involvement was a given considering the circumstances. Edmond had half heartedly agreed and the two of them had made the long car journey from Maine to Vermont with the woman who had come to fetch them. The whole way Edmond had wondered just how much of this phenomenon he didn’t understand. The spike in cases was odd and he couldn’t even begin to fathom whether this was significant or whether or not he was simply becoming aware of them now that his name was being passed around certain circles again. 

The exorcism of the woman had not gone well. The mounds of furniture between them and the door had worn both Edmond and the abbot out before they even laid eyes on the soul they’d come to save. When they finally did reach her, they found her ready to fight them. Again the crucifix came into play, but Edmond was wary of using it too much. The Holy water and cross were effective, but their implementation inflicted damage to the host as well as the demon and could cause death if used too liberally. Because of the woman’s advanced age, this had been a major concern of Edmond’s from the start, but the ferocity with which she came at them had necessitated rough treatment. By the time she was free of evil, she had broken her arm, a few ribs and her left hand. Her daughters had been horrified and only their eldest sister’s pleadings had kept them from calling the police. The woman had left her mother with her sisters and driven the priests back to the abbey without so much as a thank you or word of acknowledgement.

That night Edmond had demanded that the abbot turn away anyone looking for his services from now on. Edmond had been committed to putting that life behind him and for a time the abbot seemed willing to let him. As 1947 had come to a close, Edmond had become convinced his last exorcism had also been his final one and that those days were close to being nothing more than distant memories. 

Then, a week before Christmas, another woman had shown up at the abbey. She had demanded to meet the man who could save children from the Devil’s clutches. She claimed her little girl had been taken by Lucifer and that no one in New Hampshire would help her. They all thought the little girl belonged in a mental hospital. The abbot had brought the case to Edmond, but Edmond had refused to reveal himself. The abbot had relayed this to the woman who had in turn refused to accept it. For two days she stayed in and around the abbey, demanding help and pleading with any friar she saw, until finally Edmond broke down and offered to help her. She had burst into tears of gratitude and had barely been willing to wait for the abbot to join them at her car.

When they arrived at her home in a New Hampshire suburb, everything had felt wrong. Edmond could not explain it today any better than he could have then, but somehow he had known that God had left him and that the house he intended to enter belonged to the Dark One alone. Unwilling to have come so far only to flee, Edmond had prepared himself and the abbot for a long and arduous ordeal. 

The girl had been tied to the foot of her bed, which was not ideal since it allowed her a degree of mobility, but Edmond had been determined to work around this. Using the crucifix to back her into the bed, Edmond had found that the demon was fighting him more than usual. It took seven or eight prods with the wooden cross to accomplish his goal and once she was cornered, things got even worse. For everyone of Edmond’s calls for the demon to leave, it responded with vulgarities and hate that seemed to drive Edmond backwards and away from the girl.  

About three hours in, the abbot had lost control of himself. Mid-sentence Edmond had heard his journal hit the floor and the sound of the door slamming behind him. Knowing what was coming next, Edmond had managed to hurl his holy water right at the girl as she lunged from the bed towards him. The tactic succeeded in driving her back, but the toll was too much for her. Edmond had watched on in horror as she’d writhed on her sweat soaked covers, screaming and howling all the while. 

When Edmond had finally emerged from the girl’s room, the abbot was gone and the family was waiting, looks of terror etched onto their pale faces. He’d told them that the girl had died, directed them to call the authorities and then waited for the police to arrive. He’d been arrested, though not led away in cuffs, and the next person he’d seen from the church had been the Archbishop of Portland. The man had been deathly serious and had not given Edmond any indication that he was there to help him. Edmond had told him the truth, all of it, and then been left in a cell to await punishment. 

By the next day he had been released without charge and given a ride back to the abbey. Apparently the abbot had returned, but refused to see Edmond. Edmond had not quite understood this, the entire string of exorcisms over the last two years or so had been largely his idea, but he’d packed his belongings quickly and waited in his room for someone to come get him. No one had told him anything yet, but he’d known a reassignment was coming. The last thing the Archbishop of Portland needed was desperate Catholics heading into his diocese for Edmond’s services. Especially when they could turn out so poorly. 

Edmond had been right about reassignment and within the week had been picked up by a couple of men from the Knights of Columbus and transported from Northern Maine to central Ohio. So, at 28, Edmond found himself once again starting over under less than optimal circumstances. He had no frame of reference for what Ohio might be like, he had not been consulted in any way, shape or form, but he hoped it would not be quite as secluded as Maine. The wilderness up there had not been good for his state of mind. 

To his surprise he had not been moved to another abbey, but to a small clergy house in the suburbs of Cleveland. He would be sharing the house with two other priests and tending to the flock of St. James' Catholic Church, a small congregation hoping to grow larger in the coming years as new housing sprang up around it. His new housemates were Father Tim, an older man with horrible acne who breathed heavily despite his slight frame, and Father Delgado, a man five years his senior with warm eyes and skin that reminded him of copper. Neither seemed to know anything but his name and Edmond was happy to keep it that way.

Edmond did not hear from anyone in Maine ever again and after a few months of waiting for a non-existent hammer to drop, he had begun to accept his new life in the American Midwest. The people were odd to him and they seemed to find him equally intriguing. He covered morning masses every other Sunday and weekday mass twice a week, but besides that he was free to do as he pleased so long as it did not negatively affect his congregation. This had stood in sharp contrast to the limits imposed on him at the abbey, but seemed to be much more conducive to producing mental calm. Again his old troubles began to fade and new prospects took their place.

For the next six years he grew close with Father’s Tim and Delgado, his congregation and the Lord. There were no visitors in the night, no sense of impending doom and certainly no want for either. In fact, there were many moments during these years of peace that he wondered just how any of his life’s prior events had even come to transpire. It all seemed so foolish now, so reckless. A priest’s job was ministering to a flock and now that he had that, he never wanted to let it go. He never should have allowed himself to become so naive, to forget, but for a time, things were good. 

As he sat here now, sweating through his robes, he wished they could have stayed that way.

Things had taken a turn for the worst in February of 1954, a mere ten months ago, when a burly man, a factory worker Edmond thought, had come to the clergy house looking for him. He’d said he’d heard rumors that a priest from Maine was able to cure those taken by evil spirits. Father Delgado and Father Tim had both been shocked by this, they’d known Maine had been his last assignment, and Edmond hadn’t been able to lie to his new friends. Inviting the man inside, Edmond had listened to his story. His son, almost a man, had been acting oddly the last few days and the rest of the family had taken notice. After he had beat his sister bloody, his father had tried to subdue him, but the boy had put up a fight. Edmond had been able to see proof of this on the large man’s face. With the help of his other sons and a few neighbors, they had wrestled the boy into the garage and locked him in there. Both his family and the neighbors were in agreement that something had taken hold of the boy.

“How did you get my name?” Edmond asked.

“My boy,” the man said. “He screamed it at me. Said, ‘Bring the priest to me.’ I asked, what priest? He said, ‘The bastard from Maine.’ I’m assuming that’s you.”

This had made Edmond’s teeth clench hard enough he’d worried they might crack. The boy had told him, which meant the Devil himself had summoned him. Why or how Edmond couldn’t understand, but suddenly that feeling of total abandonment was back and he felt it in every fiber of his body. 

“Will you come?” the man had pleaded. “I can’t lose my boy, Father. Not like this.”

Edmond hadn’t been able to deny the man after that and his fellow priests had been all too eager to accompany him. After trying to explain the dangers of what they were doing, Edmond acquiesced and the four of them got into the man’s truck and set off into the night. As they drove, Edmond explained to the man that even if Edmond was successful, that his son might die. He told him that it had already happened twice and that both times had led to major problems for Edmond. If the boy died, his father would need to handle it without involving Edmond with the police. The boy’s father had agreed. Edmond doubted there was anything the man wouldn’t have agreed to at that moment, but it was all he could do to protect himself. 

 When they had arrived at the house, neighbors had already congregated outside the garage. Edmond told the man to disperse them and took the time alone in the car with his fellow priests to prepare them. He showed them the Latin prayers they needed to recite and made sure Father Tim copied down his own set so Delgado could keep the journal. Edmond was far from an expert in this field, but he had assumed two voices couldn’t be any less effective than one. Once the neighbors were gone, the three priests had exited the truck and assembled in front of the garage.

Edmond told the man to go inside with his family and get as far from the garage as possible. The man had latched the garage shut from the outside and Edmond kept his eyes glued on the metal hook as he and the others approached the door. Unsurprisingly, to Edmond at least, the boy’s body slammed into the garage door once they had come within five feet of it.

“Sweet Jesus,” Father Tim had said.

“Start,” was all Edmond had said in return.

The two men’s voices had joined together as the boy repeated his attack on the door. Edmond himself did nothing at first. He simply kept his focus on the door. He half expected it to explode open like the night Fantoni had died, but instead the boy’s attacks seemed to be getting weaker and weaker. When nearly a minute had passed by without an assault, Edmond had reached out to the garage door’s latch and unhooked it. Waiting a moment for an assault that did not come, Edmond threw the garage door open with all his might before pulling out the cross from within his robes. To his surprise the boy did not come rushing out but was instead curled up in the center of the garage, hands clenched over his ears and tears streaming down his face.

Without a word Edmond had waved the two other priests inside and closed the garage door once more. The boy did not take advantage of Edmond’s distraction and soon Edmond had pinned the boy to the ground with his knees and was shouting down for the Devil to release him. Within ten minutes the boy was free and the familiar feeling of triumph was washing over Edmond despite his fear. They left the boy with his family and walked the few miles back to the clergy house in a fog of victory. Tim and Delgado were besides themselves with pride and even Edmond’s unease could not dampen their spirits. Even knowing what came next, Edmond could not help but smile when he looked back on that night. It was a high point. One of only a few the Lord had allowed him.

Later that summer another visitor had come to them, this one a young girl, and she had claimed between racking sobs that something had ‘taken’ her father. She said that someone else was living inside him and that this person was mistreating her family. She said her mother had sent her to get help and that they were the first place she had come. The request had been so couched in mystery and child-like language that Edmond hadn’t caught the many inconsistencies and oddities in her tale. He wondered almost daily what might have happened had he pressed the girl a little harder, but alas he had only seen a child in need and elected to help. Father Delgado had been out with a dying woman administering last rites, so Father Tim had accompanied him alone.

When they had finally arrived at the run-down hovel the girl called home, Edmond had become filled with a very familiar sensation. He was suddenly convinced that this was beyond them, that they could not enter this house and expect to leave alive. He begged Tim to leave, to get back in the car and drive away, but the man refused. He would not leave a child in this type of situation. He had told Edmond that even if the latter left, he would remain behind to do God’s work.

Frustrated and full of dread, Edmond had done the only thing that seemed right. Shoulder to shoulder with his friend, Edmond and Father Tim had scaled the three steps to the front door and pressed their way inside. Almost immediately things went sideways. The door had slammed shut behind them, encasing Edmond in darkness. The next thing he’d felt were fists slamming into his stomach and face as Tim was torn from his side. As he fell to the floor under the weight of his unseen assailant’s blows, he heard Tim’s shrieks from somewhere across the room. Edmond thought he tried to help his friend, but all he could remember was the endless stream of blows that peppered him as his fellow priest suffered.

When the blows finally stopped, a lamp was lit and the whole room was cast in a dim light. Surrounding him were six figures, one of them the very girl who had brought them here, and on all their faces were the unmistakable signs of possession. As Edmond took them in, the oldest man, the father he assumed, came to kneel before him. “Look,” he had said and Edmond had followed his extended finger to where Tim lay. The older man had been stabbed with seemingly every knife the house possessed and all of their handles could still be seen jutting from his robes. Worst of all, he was not yet dead. “This day is coming for you Edmond. You have stood against us for too long. We will not forget you priest. You will never find peace. You will never see your God.”

The next thing Edmond knew he was back in a jail cell. He didn’t know if he had passed out or simply lost his mind after seeing what had happened to his friend, but he did not remember being found by the police, being arrested or the journey in the back of the police car to his cell. He simply came to with the pale yellow walls taking up his vision instead of Tim. The first person who came to see him was Father Delgado. He had seemed ashamed of their activities prior to Tim’s death and the only positive from the visit was the knowledge that Delgado did not suspect him of making everything up. He did blame him though, that much was clear.

His next visitor was a lawyer in the employ of the Catholic Church. Edmond told the man his story in full and the lawyer listened intently. After hearing Edmond out he disappeared for a few hours only to return with a statement for Edmond to sign. Edmond read it beforehand of course and was shocked to see just what his story had been twisted into. A young girl had convinced the priests to come administer last rites to her dying father. When the two of them had shown up the family had accosted them for reasons unknown. Considering no one from the family had been found, there would be little pushback and the Church could simply move on from the unfortunate incident. Edmond had signed, numb to the repercussions of the lie, and waited for further instructions. He knew he would be reassigned, but that hardly mattered now. He had been marked by Satan himself and the end of his story was written. There was nowhere to run or hide; only God could save him now. 

After three days in jail Edmond was released without charges. The car that came to pick him up already had his belongings and instead of returning him to the clergy house, took him to a small regional airport outside Cincinnati. From there he had been given tickets for a plane ride to New Mexico and that was more or less how he’d wound up sitting here in the sweltering heat wondering just what was going to happen to him. The Church seemed ready to sweep him under the rug and he doubted the experience was meant to be pleasant.

“Brother Edmond,” a voice behind him said and Edmond turned to see an older Hispanic man in the doorway of the abbot’s office, “you may come in.” As Edmond rose, the large priest who had accompanied him thus far made to follow him. “That won’t be necessary Brother Rojas,” the abbot said as he ushered Edmond inside. The big priest stopped dead in his tracks and bowed his head slightly before returning to his previous spot.

Edmond entered the small room and was thankful for the cooler air in this enclosed space. The room was small, made of the same light brown sandstone as the rest of the abbey, and lightly furnished. A worn desk, barely padded wooden chair, filing cabinet and some sort of standing closet were all that adorned the room. There were two square cut windows on either side of the desk and, even from where he stood across from it, he could feel the pleasant cross breeze they created. He saw no chair for a guest so he waited awkwardly as the abbot closed the door behind them and slowly made his way to his seat.

“I’m sorry for the less than enthusiastic welcome from Brother Rojas,” he said as he took a seat, his eyes more focused on the few papers splayed across it than Edmond. “We did not get much notice of your arrival and I’ve only begun to look over the documents your previous diocese have sent me. I’m not clear on just how much you know about our house of God. Anything?”

“Nothing,” Edmond said in a steady voice. This man would hold a monumental degree of control over Edmond’s day to day life for the foreseeable future and he was going to remain cautious until he got a good read on him.

“Saint Xavier’s rests on the site of a former Spanish mission from the early seventeen century. The place was burned during a native uprising later in the same century, but we have rebuilt over the last few decades and are now a thriving monastery once again. The men that live here are my charges and I take my responsibilities with them seriously. I know who they are, what they have done and what they need to be doing. Their pasts cannot be changed, only forgiven, but any of their future failings are my own,” the man said, still not fully focused on Edmond. This seemed like a sort of prepared speech, but a lot of it was lost on Edmond. The abbot was making it sound like this place was a prison.

“Over the next few days,” he continued, “you will come to see that the brothers here only wear one of two different colored robes. Those in light brown, the majority I’m afraid, are men who have been committed into our care. Many have chosen this place over prison or poverty and have a long journey ahead of them when it comes to living in the light. Those in the dark brown robes are men like ourselves, fully ordained and here not to tend to a congregation, but to the lost sheep that have come to live among us. I mention this both as a formality, but also because I’m afraid you are our first charge in a long time whose place I am unsure of.”

“Perhaps you should look over those documents before you make your decision,” Edmond said as flatly as he could. The reality of where he was was sinking in and it did not feel good.

“That is what I am doing now,” the abbot said as he continued scanning the documents on his desk. After an uncomfortable five minutes of standing before the distracted man, the abbot looked up at him and said, “Open the closet, there is a stool on the bottom right side.”

Edmond went to the closet and opened the thin double doors and found a basic wooden stool with three legs and no cushion. Extricating the stool without disturbing the robes around it, Edmond placed it down in front of the abbot’s desk. The height was a bit short, but it felt good to rest his legs after standing there so stiffly.

“This is quite a bit of trouble you’ve found yourself in,” the abbot said, his eyes fixed on Edmond’s for the first time.

“It is,” Edmond nodded.

“Do you believe in what you did? The validity of it I mean?” the abbot asked.

“Yes,” Edmond said, but his voice faltered a little.

“You sound unsure,” The abbot said, pouncing on his moment of doubt. The Catholic’s bane.

“As you’ve read,” Edmond said in a clear, steady voice, “I have been relocated for the same activities twice before this. Each time I leave the place of the last...incident...behind me, it all seems to fade. The details, the feelings, the urgency; all gone.”

“But then they return?” the abbot asked. His face was plain, almost ugly, but his eyes held a searching intelligence that told Edmond this man was not to be taken lightly.

“Yes,” Edmond said.

“Do you seek out this type of thing?”

“No, it seems to find me no matter where I’m exiled,” Edmond said, slightly embarrassed by his melodramatic choice of words.

“Do you want to engage in this type of activity again?”

“Never,” Edmond said seriously.

“That’s good,” the abbot nodded. “My instructions are to make sure you are comfortable, cared for, spiritually guided and far away from any trouble, especially the kind we are discussing now. I don’t care if a bus full of weeping mothers with a child a piece in need of your...services, pulls into the abbey everyday from now until your dying breath, you will turn them away. If you don’t have the heart, I’ll do it for you. If I find out that you’ve been engaging in any of this type of thing behind my back, you will be given a light brown robe and someone to keep an eye on you. Is that understood?”

“Yes abbot,” Edmond said.

“While you are here you can either join in my ministry or commune with the Lord in your own way. The option is yours,” the abbot said.

“I think I’ll begin on my own,” Edmond said diplomatically. He still wasn’t completely sure what was going on here, but he had no interest in being some sort of sentry for the abbot.

“I respect that,” the abbot nodded. “You’ll still want one of the dark brown robes. They will keep you out of trouble.”

“Are you sure I can’t keep my current vestments?” Edmond asked. The new robes looked heavy and uncomfortable, and in this heat the idea of baking inside one was more than a little daunting.

“You don’t want to stick out any more than you already do. It might make you a target for some of our more rambunctious charges,” the abbot said as if this was a perfectly normal concern.

“I see,” Edmond said, his mouth a little dry now.

“Just grab a set out of the closet when you put the stool back,” the abbot said. “Brother Rojas will show you to your quarters after that.” Edmond rose from the stool and as he was swapping it for a set of the heavy robes, the abbot said, “We’ll talk again in a week or so. Try not to judge this place too harshly until then. It will take some getting used to.”

(Pt. 2)

[survivingofffanfics]

Sergio Chapter three, pt 2

Han Seok wakes from a sad memory with a horrible urge to use the bathroom. He looks at the window. It’s still dark outside. No hint of the sun. He hasn’t used the bathroom since they were on the plane yesterday and the need to go is horrible. But Han Seok can’t leave his room. Not until Vincenzo wakes him. On nights like this, when Han Seok has been explicitly told to stay in his bed, it’s best to listen. But the need to go is overwhelming. Han Seok has dealt with nights like these before. They keep him up the whole night. Maybe he could just… nope! Those are thoughts of a crazy man.

He stares at the ceiling for twenty minutes or so before standing from his bed slowly. Quietly. He creeps to his door and presses his ear against it. The sounds of an opera plays softly the television, accompanied by Vincenzo’s soft timbre. He curses to himself. The opera could last hours. He’s not going to the bathroom anytime soon. He creeps back into his bed and closes his eyes. Hopefully morning comes soon.

“Sergio. Wake up.” A knock at his door wakes Han Seok from his fitful sleep and he sits up. He yawns before stepping out of bed and stumbling to the door.

“Sir.” He stares at the ground like a contrite child as he stands in front of him.

“Take a shower. We’ll be meeting tenants today.”

“Yes. Yes, Sir.” Han Seok takes a quick shower, dressing himself in the bathroom. He brushes his teeth before coming out to the living room to join him.

“Are you done? You took forever.” Vincenzo rolls his eyes and Han Seok nods.

“Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir.”

The tenants have all gathered in the Italian restaurant to speak with Vincenzo. Han Seok stands by the door, happy no one is talking to him. The first person to question Vincenzo is the lawyer Han Seok met last night. Hong Yu Chan. Han Seok has to stifle a grin at Vincenzo’s fumbling. “We met Sergio last night. He seems like a good kid. You however? I don’t know if I can trust you.” Han Seok looks up at the mention of his name, and frowns. He’d hoped that he would stay out of this conversation.

“Oh! You met Sergio? Ah, Sergio is a good man, yes. But I’m sure Sergio can verify that I’m trustworthy. Isn’t that right?”

“Y-yes, Sir.” Han Seok nods, noting the confused looks on Mr. Hong and Nam’s faces. He’d told them that he was mute after all.

“See? Sergio is not the lying sort. You’re in good hands.” The conversation continues on after that, full of arguing and doubt. Han Seok doens’t pay attention much after his input. He knows that he’s made Vincenzo mad. Someway or another.

At the end of the meeting, the tenants have come to grudgingly trust the Cassanos. Vincenzo exits the room first, Han Seok dragging his feet behind him. He hates his life.

[erdogan-nevra]

He was probably going to look like he had anyway but Nevra didn't voice it out loud. Didn't want to jinx his fight before it even started. They'd already decided that Vincenzo didn't have the stature to compete anyway, so why worry. Right?

The voice in the back of her head did nothing but worry. That was nothing new. What was new was the fact that she was beginning to worry about him. A man she had only met a handful of times since he'd arrived in London and was only now having a real conversation with.

Had she shut herself down so completely after Berat had died that a few soft, lingering touches were all it took to unravel her? Fuck, she was in trouble.

"I've never babysat but I feel like scaring them a bit wouldn't be the worst idea. They'll behave better if you do, won't they?"

She didn't sit on one of the many stools. There was a table toward the back she'd sighted earlier and it was still empty. She wanted a seat to lean her back against after the beating she'd taken. Plus, it had the added bonus of sitting away from the crowd where less people could hear and see them.

"Red wine. I think staying away from hard liquor tonight is necessary." Her voice and eyes dropped as she said it, thinking of the myriad of reasons staying of sound mind was a good idea. The man in front of her being one of them. "If you're not drinking then you'll need someone to join you."

Drink secured, Nevra took both the glass and Oscar's hand, weaving them through the sea of people. Her fingers drummed gently over his knuckles, her body wound up with something she couldn't name. One moment she was inches from him and the next she put a foot between them, arm outstretched to keep him at bay yet never letting go of his hand. She was likely confusing him as much as she was confused herself.

The chairs were on opposite sides of the table, small though it was. Nevra looked up at him, silently waiting to see if he would move his or not, before sitting down and taking a very large drink of wine. "I know it's not the best view in the place..."

Their hands slipped away like smoke—but the weight of their grasp stayed, an echo still clinging to his skin. Christ. He could feel her fingertips in his pulse. He exhaled slowly. Didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath.

Then she turned. Tossed the towel. Looked back.

And that dress—that sliver of skin—God. That slit exposing her torso was a threat. A sin. A glimpse that made his mouth dry and his knuckles tighten. He wanted to run his fingers up, up—to that thin knot—Quickly, he tries to toss that thought away. As though it had burned him.

She said something. Something about drinks. About after.

But all he could think was: After what? After I win? After I lose? After I get you out of that damn dress? Dios. Nope. No, no. Focus.

He scrubbed a hand down his face, exhaled through his nose, and muttered, "Torpe." Idiot. Fool. Whatever flavor of 'get it together' worked.

Without hesitation, he stepped up beside her, hand brushing the small of her back—a gentle guide, not a claim, "I’m buying tonight," he said low, just for her to hear, voice dipped in that same heat as before, as they maneuvered through the crowd to the bar, "You can get me a shot of everclear for my bloody knuckles. Or at least help me nurse my wounds."

A half-smile curled on his lips, boyish but a little wicked.

"I’ll be on babysitting duty tomorrow, after all. Don’t wanna scare Yvonne’s kids looking like I went a few rounds with a truck."

His hand lingered for just a second longer, before pulling away—reluctantly. Before he was tempted by that sin anymore than he already was. The warmth of her skin burned like memory against his palm as it met the bartop. Flagging down the bartender, "What are we treating you to, Nevra?"