#who is like this is offensive because a nun walked into a room with other priests

[goryhorroor]

I just saw a post about how offensive immaculate is because sydney sweeney’s character read the bible out loud or some shit. out of the entire movie in which the church uses a young nun to incubate their demon child, you found the bible reading offensive. tbh sydney’s attempt at speaking italian was the most offensive thing in that movie

[magicbutsevenofit]

Chapter 10: Nightmare Part 1

A dude goes to see a fortune teller, saying he doesn't have a reason to live anymore. She asks him if there's anything he wants to do before he dies, like see the dreams of the three souls he's about to throw away. Hey, even better: why doesn't he just wager his soul away for a wish? The guy, having lost his entire family in a job gone bad, agrees and surprise! The fortune teller is a Kor and he's screwed.

So back to Teito and Pretty Boy. His name is Haruken Oak and he offers to shake hands with Teito. Haruken says it seems like each year, over a 1000 applicants want to take the examination and asks if Teito is a middle-schooler looking to pass too. That's when Teito recognizes him: he's a relative of one of his bullies from his last school, Shuri Oak. Thinking he might be a pursuer, Teito asks him if he knows a guy by the name of Shuri from the "cowardly Oaks". Haruken smiles...but he doesn't like that.

Nah, they don't fight but they both think it's only because they're in church; if they were outside, the earrings would be out. Haruken says there's no way a kid like Teito could have been accepted so easily. After all, you need five years of study in order to pass. Teito coldly responds that he heard that the Oak family is full of military officers and politicians so why is he trying out for the clergy? Haruken says that he has an interest in the church and he doesn't have an obligation to answer Teito. He walks off and Teito joins the other students to watch Assistant Archbishop Bastien is exorcising a Kor. Teito watches and is impressed that Bastien uses the staff so efficiently. Bastien invites any student with more questions to come to his room later and Castor, stopping by, explains the technique when Teito asks about it. You see, Teito's Zaiphon is an offensive type while Bastien is a healing type. Healing Zaiphons can't directly attack the Kor but it can restrict the movements of the Kor, restrict its movements and make it possible to remove the Kor from the patient's body. Since healing is more dependent on effort instead of talent, one can branch out with it and use it to learn different techniques. Oh and tonight, Teito has a special class. He needs to learn as quickly as possible. Mikage (the pet) lands on Haruken's head and the latter doesn't notice. He's stupid.

Meanwhile, the guy from the start of the chapter comes into a bad guy place, possessed by the Kor. Frau has to stop him before he kills anybody, reminding the baddies to remember the value of a human life.

One of the nuns show Teito to his new room, a room he will be sharing with (who else) Haruken Oaks!

They demand to change rooms. The nun says that's impossible. They were literally paired up because they can't get along; they need to improve and challenge each other. After all, you can't be a bishop without kindness and piety and all that nonsense.

Later on, Haruken tells Teito to get up for staff practice but Teito hesitates, noting he can't even use a staff without hurting his hands for some reason. However, when he inspects his staff, he discovers the blood isn't his; it was left by former members of the clergy. Instead of having it cleaned and checking himself into the ER, Teito smiles.

Later on, Teito and Haruken are doing their registration shit before the guy at the front desk collapses. They pick him up to take him to the infirmary before heading back with the other students who all head to the training room. In there, a bunch of Kor are sicced on them. Haruken takes charge and attacks the Kor with his Zaiphon (also an offense type) and Teito figures out why he's been having trouble making the staff work: Zaiphon reflects the wielder's inner character and Teito has been using his purely as a weapon. However, the staff isn't a tool for killing; it's a tool for protecting. Once he hits his enlightenment, Teito finally gets the staff to work for him, much to the amazement of the other students. Bastien comes over and tells him to use it with the feelings that he can serve God with. Teito thinks he doesn't really know anything about God...but he'll use his feelings for Mikage to power his spells.

Teito summons a powerful attack...and breaks the damn barrier with it. And the staff, he also broke the staff. Bastien takes Teito's staff and identifies it as Frau's. Teito freaks out but Bastien laughs it off, saying Frau broke his staffs all the time. Then Haruken freaks out when he learns Teito is acquainted with Frau, saying that Frau holds the all time record for the highest score in the second examination.

A bit later, Teito and Haruken are cleaning up the training area debris before a guy dies near them, the chapter ending with the implication that Ayanami did it.

[randomshyperson]

Left Behind - Wanda Maximoff x Reader - #01 "Muddy Waters"

Summary: The one where you lived in the apartment under the Maximoff family in Sokovia, or, your journey as a Sokovian civilian to Avenger.

A/N: i want to know what people think of this, I feel like it's sounds good in my head but not exactly good in words. Also, this is shorter than what i usually write, i'm trying the "short" chapters a while.

Warnings (under constructions): Violence, mentions of fighting, cursing, light power abuse, war environments.

Words: 2.769 K

Dictionary for this chapter: Parshivets - brat || bratan - brother || dvornyaga - mutt || plague - chuma || Prostite - sorry || Vrediteli - pests || svin'ya - pig || devochka - girl || borot'sya - fight

All Works Masterlist || Read on AO3 || Part Two || Series Masterlist

//-//

Chapter One - Muddy Waters

Sokovia, 11 years ago.

You ran to catch up with one of the boys who was running away from you.

You didn't know his name, but you think he lived in the apartment below you, and since everyone always played together, and there were many children, you didn't know everyone's name. The only thing you really needed to know was who you had to pick up.

"Parshivets!" You heard your brother's voice shout through the window into the area where you were. "Come to dinner!"

"I'm kidding, bratan" You retorted as you stopped running and looked up, gesturing to your apartment window.

"Come up now, papa is telling you to!" Your brother ordered before sticking his head inside again.

Grumbling angrily, you waved goodbye to the other children.

When you reached your floor, you saw the Maximoff twins coming out of their apartment, and smiled at Pietro who noticed you from down the hall.

You hoped that your father would let you play with them later.

//-//

There was dust covering your eyes and nose.

You coughed, running your hand over your face, trying to understand what was happening around you, the sound of sirens and explosions muffled by the ringing in your ear.

"Papa?" You called out with hoarseness in your voice, still somewhat aroused. You blinked and realized that what was your room was now just a pile of rubble.

Feeling a sharp pain in your torso, you looked down, letting out a surprised exclamation at the iron wedged in your belly. You whimpered in pain, trying to move. "Papa." You called out again, completely confused and frightened.

You heard voices in the distance, and sounds on the rocks, but your eyes began to heavy again. Maybe you were going to fall asleep, and maybe sleep would take the pain away, so you closed your eyes.

//-//

"She needs medical assistance." A male voice sounded muffled in your ears. You blinked in confusion, the sky above you as something moved below. You were being carried.

"We have vacancies in district twelve." Said someone on the other side, you tried to look, but your whole body ached and you grumbled. The noise attracted the attention of the soldier carrying you on the stretcher, and he looked at you tenderly.

"Don't worry, kid." He spoke. "We found you in time. You are safe."

You felt your throat dry, and you wanted to ask for water, but you were too weak to speak.

"Papa." It was the only thing you could mumble before everything went dark again.

//-//

When you awoke again, you had a large white bandage around your waist, and the pain had subsided greatly. You were in one of the medical tents that you had seen once in the distance when you ran past the area where the soldiers were staying.

You looked around, frightened and confused, trying to understand what had happened. There was a man in a black suit walking around the stretchers, a notepad in his hands.

"Another casualty." He comments as he scribbles something on the sheet after looking at the girl lying a few beds ahead of his. You felt your stomach turn when you realized she wasn't actually asleep the second after. "It's already twenty-four."

The nurse next to him grumbled in agreement, and then she looked forward and noticed you awake, a gentle smile filling her expression as she turned away from the man to walk over to you.

You drank all the water she served you, and accepted the hug she gave you after telling you that your father and brother did not survive the attack. The man in black tried to reassure you that the orphanage in the district was the best in Sokovia, but you kept crying.

//-//

You stood still with your hands behind your back while the nurse measured your height.

"Look how well behaved you are." She comments with a smile, making you smile as well. She takes a few notes on the placard in front of you and then stoops down to your height. "Are you ready to join the other children?"

You bite the inside of your cheek, denying with your head. The nurse tilts her head to the side slightly.

"You don't have to be afraid." She says. "You're a big girl now, aren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am." You reply.

"Then why are you scared?"

You shrug, looking down. The nurse sighs lightly, looking toward the door. You know that the children who have already been evaluated are outside the hospital, waiting for the bus from the orphanage.

"I miss my brother." You mumble softly next, causing the woman to glare at you. "He was better at playing than I was. And he always introduced me to the other children."

"You're going to have a lot of brothers now." It was the best thing the woman could think to say, and you nodded in understanding, ignoring the urge to cry. She handed you a lollipop on the way out and told you to behave. You said you would, but your fingers were crossed behind your back.

//-//

The orphanage was a dirty, dark place. The building was old and made strange noises if you stepped in certain places. And there were many children.

The war in Sokovia had left many marks on their country, and it was noticeable in places like this.

You were going to share the north dormitory with fifteen other children, and you had several rules to follow in your new home. The orphanage sisters repeated the guidelines all the way to the building as you walked down the bus corridor. You talked to no one along the way, your attention on the landscape visible through the window.

When you arrived, and were taken to your rooms to put on your uniforms and get ready for dinner and to be assigned the tasks you had started in the morning, you followed obediently, without really being present in the environment. Everything seemed a bit stuffy.

//-//

You stopped sweeping when the sound of voices caught your attention. And well, they caught the attention of all the other girls who were on the same shift as you, because they all looked away, and rushed to the windows to look out. You imitated the movement, and you could see outside a small circle of children forming in the backyard. It was a fight.

Your classmates ran outside, and you sighed, figuring that you weren't going to finish sweeping by yourself, so you'd better join them.

When you reached the small mess, you observed two boys pushing each other in the circle, exchanging insults, but not really hitting each other. The other orphans watched the scene curiously, waiting for the fight to escalate. You hoped this wouldn't happen, since the taller boy was accompanied by three others.

"You're a cheater, aren't you Maximoff?" Accused the blond boy with irritation. You blinked in surprise as you recognized the smaller boy. Your former neighbor, Pietro.

"And you're a bad loser, Sidorov." Retorted the other boy taking a step back to avoid the blond's hands.

"I'm not a loser, cheater." Sidorov thundered, lunging forward again and pushing Pietro to the ground.

You and the small crowd held your breath. The blond boy stepped forward again and hit Pietro in the nose.

Sidorov's friends laughed and Pietro grabbed the blond by the legs, knocking him to the ground. As they rolled in the dirt, the orphans began to shout "borot'sya" and you looked around. Your gaze caught Wanda Maximoff moving through the crowd and advancing toward her brother.

One of Sidorov's friends held her by the arms and she shouted at them to stop fighting. You bit your lip, feeling your heart race. You weren't friends with the twins, and you had no desire to get into a fight that wasn't yours. But they were the most familiar thing around at the moment, so your feet were moving.

You broke through the crowd and grabbed the garden hose, running toward the direction of the fight again. Sidorov was mounted on Pietro having managed to immobilize him, but before he could land the punch, you wrapped the hose around his neck and pulled him backward.

As he let out an exclamation of pain and surprise and fell backwards, trying to shake off the grip, you pulled Pietro off the ground.

"You could have killed me, girl!" gasped the boy on the ground with hatred in his eyes, their friends let go of Wanda to advance against you and Pietro, but someone shouted that the nuns were coming and you grabbed Pietro and Wanda's hand, pulling them to run away with you.

//-//

Breathing hard, you propped your hands on your knee.

"Did we lose them?" Pietro asked just as breathless as you. Wanda looked back, equally tired from the race.

"Yes." She replied as she looked around.

"Great." You grumbled standing up properly. You cleared your throat and shifted your weight between your feet, not knowing exactly what to say next. Pietro approached you, extending his hand.

"Thanks for helping me out back there." He says with a smile. You ignore his hand to raise your finger toward the bruise on his left eye, but you don't touch your face, leaving your finger in the air pointing toward the wound.

"You look like a badass now." You tease, causing the boy to laugh with flushed cheeks. "It's better than your dorky face at least."

"Hey." He retorts with false offense, still smiling. You look at Wanda next, and she is already looking at you curiously.

"You are Y/N." Wanda says. "You lived in the apartment downstairs."

Looking away, you mutter in agreement.

"We didn't know that other people survived the collapse." Pietro comments next, and you nod.

"Well, here we are." You say with irony, causing Wanda and Pietro to frown. Clearing your throat, you take a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I don't like to talk about it."

"It's okay, neither do I." Wanda commented and you gave her a short smile.

"We should get back." You say next, and the twins nod in agreement.

You walk ahead, kicking up a few rocks on the way, looking back a few times to see if they are still behind you.

They are.

//-//

Sokovia, ten years ago.

"Time to wake up little brats"

You grumbled in irritation as you heard the voice of the nursemaid, then the shrill noise of the bell. Gingerly rummaging in your covers, you got out of bed, equally as all your dorm mates.

"Today the governor will visit the orphanage and I expect you to be on your best behavior, or know that you will be punished if you embarrass Father Novikov." Warned Madame Ivanov, the housekeeper of the Sokovia Municipal Orphanage, or your home since the apartment complex where you lived was destroyed when a bomb fell on the structure during one of the civil war conflicts. "This will be my only warning to you, Vrediteli, I will take special care of those who do not behave."

Madama Ivanov looked directly at you, and you clenched your jaw, ignoring the urge to roll your eyes.

"Bath and breakfast." She ordered next. "And after chores, everyone properly dressed in the main courtyard."

Your colleagues moved first than you as soon as Madame left the room. You sighed, sitting up in bed. You hadn't slept very well the night before, dreaming of explosions again. But you didn't have time to think about it, and yawning, you got up again, heading toward the bathrooms.

//-//

You were covered from head to toe in mud. Madame Ivanov and Madame Pavlova looked at you wide-eyed, as did the rest of the room, and you swallowed hard. The room was completely silent, no one ventured to say anything. The perfectly aligned suit of the governor of Sokovia, now with a dark mud stain on his chest.

"Oh, look at this." The man spoke next, you remained static, staring at him wide-eyed. He chuckled, and you almost relaxed. Then a loud slap hit your face and you gasped in pain and surprise. "Do you have any idea how much that suit cost me, pest?" He asked between teeth, and you felt your stomach turn in anger. The man threatened to advance toward you again, and you didn't hesitate to punch him in the balls, drawing an angry exclamation from him and shocked sighs from all your colleagues.

"Don't ever touch me again, svin'ya" You retorted angrily before running away, intending to escape the punishment of the sisters who were sure to catch up with you eventually.

When you stopped running, you were many blocks from the orphanage, a spot below your ribs hurting badly. The mud dried against your skin and you grunted in disgust at the sensation.

Changing the direction of your steps, you snuck through the alleyways of the city, ignoring the looks of disapproval and curiosity people cast at the sight of a ten-year-old covered in mud in the outlying part of town.

You reached the small laundromat in the mall a few minutes later, and snuck into the northern outer entrance, trying not to be seen by the employees as you reached one of the tanks. Fortunately it was lunchtime, and the place was quite empty. You cleared your throat as you reached one of the windows, and the noise attracted the attention of the girl inside, distracted by the dirty fabrics in her hands.

"Damn it, you' scare the shit out of me!" Wanda exclaimed to you, and you laughed expectantly. She opened the window latch next, and you jumped in. "Why are you covered in mud? And why are you here?"

You shrugged, taking off your T-shirt and pants. Wanda hurried to fill a bucket of water as you walked over to one of the empty faucets, leaning over to wash your face.

Clean, you sighed.

"Sorry for showing up unannounced." You ask remembering Wanda's work rules. She would wake up earlier than you, and go to work in the laundry while you and Pietro would take any service you could get since steady jobs like Wanda's were very difficult. And since labor laws didn't apply to children, you and Pietro took Wanda's lunch whenever possible, and helped her wash clothes so she wouldn't be so tired. The rule was always to let her know because her boss couldn't find out about it.

"No problem." She retorts as she looks around for dry clothes for you. "But will you tell me what happened?"

You bite the inside of your cheeks, ducking your head.

"I was fighting." You grumbled and Wanda stopped the motion of reaching for a t-shirt in the upstairs closet, turning to you next with a worried look.

"Again, devochka?" She asked as she approached and used her hand to gently lift your chin up, searching your face for any sign of injury. Without the mud, the purple in your left eye was visible.

"Prostite, Wanda." You muttered in shame, but Wanda sighed shaking her head.

"Why were you fighting?"

You shrugged and Wanda bit her lips. "I tried to kick Nikolai but he shoved me in the mud, and punched me in the face. So I did as you taught me and ran. Only I ended up bumping into the governor."

Wanda's eyes widen at the story.

"So?"

You ducked your head again.

"He slapped me in the face." You say. "And I punched him in the balls."

Wanda blinked in surprise at the confession, and then laughed. You widened your eyes, surprised that she wasn't angry, and she shook her head with amusement, ruffling your hair.

"You've gone crazy." She commented. "The sisters are going to put you in charge of cleaning the bathrooms for the whole month."

You shrugged again, and Wanda walked away, going back to looking for a set of clothes for you.

"Where's Pietro?" She asked as she handed you a set of gray clothes that were probably laundry uniforms that got too old to wear.

"Gathering coal for Mr. Sidorov." You replied as you dressed. Wanda grumbled in understanding as she dipped your muddy clothes into the water.

"I'll bring your clothes to you when I'm done." She comments as she turns to you again, and you nod in agreement hurrying to climb in the window.

"Hey, Wanda." You call out before leaving, glancing at the girl as you lean on the window. "I'll bring you some candy. In thanks." You say with a smile, and don't wait for a reply, turning around.

//

Tag list> @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia //   @ichala​ ||  @madamevirgo

[uenodivision]

Sakurai Clan Drama Track 1 - So It Goes.

Pt. 3

-- Yuzairu Residence --

[The time was approximately 12:18 P.M. as the sun shined high in the sky in the city of Ueno. It was the weekend, which meant that the town was actively busy as people were either walking or driving to and from their various destinations. Some were middle-aged men and women on their way to walk, despite it being a Saturday afternoon. Others were young teenagers talking about the ins and outs of their lives, be it with school, parents, or whatever else gossip was on their minds at the moment.]

[In one of the suburbs of the Division was the adobe of Kisouna Yuzairu, 1/3 of Ueno Division's rap group, Sakurai Clan. Sitting on her couch in the living room, she had a multitude of papers and folders in front of her. At first glance, one would think that they had something to do with her work, which would be no surprise considering her profession. But that would be an incorrect guess.]

[Actually, these papers all contained information on all the available rap groups that were most likely to take part in the Division Rap Battle Tournament that was to take place in a few short weeks. After being informed a few days ago by Aranai that Chuohku had entered them without their knowledge, Kisouna, in her spare time, had done research on every team and division there were. Luckily, one of the interns at her law firm was a big fan of the D.R.B., so when Kisouna asked, he divulged all information he had on him. Most of what he knew was already common knowledge, but it still helped.]

[The prosecuting attorney was deep in her thoughts, studying one of the papers until the doorbell rung, sending its signal throughout the entire house. Standing up, Kisouna walked to the entrance. Peering through the peephole, she looked as it was the remaining members of the Sakurai Clan: Shisuta and Aranai. Unlocking the lock on her door, she opened it.]

Kisouna: *Nods her head to both of them* Shisuta. Aranai.

Shisuta: *Bows her body with her hands together on her lap* Good day, Kisouna-san.

Aranai: *Holds her left hand up* What up, Boss-Lady?

[Frowning at the nickname her leader gave her, she sighed, shaking her head as she moved slightly to the side, allowing the two women access into her house.]

Aranai: *Walks inside, looking around with a frown* I know that this is part of your shtick and all, but would it kill you to add some life into this place?

Kisouna: *Frowns as she closes the front door, following her friends* F.Y.I., it's called 'minimalist'.

Aranai: *Scoffs* It should be called 'boring'.

Shisuta: *Frowns* Aranai...

Aranai: What? It's true! *Looks back at Kisouna* I don't see how you and your daughter can live with how empty this place is.

Kisouna: *Still frowning* For your information, Yomi actually likes the house like this.

Aranai: *Scoffs again, speaking under her breath* She's just too young to know better.

[Knowing that she had said something, the prosecuting attorney chose not to reply; instead, shaking her head as she made her way back to the living room couch.]

Shisuta: Speaking of which, where is Yomi-chan?

Kisouna: I dropped her off at her friend's house. They were having a birthday party, and she begged me to take her.

Shisuta: Oh. *Slightly upset* I was looking forward to talking and playing with her.

Aranai: Same here. *Scratches the back of her head* She's the only good thing I like about coming to this place.

Kisouna: *Frowns at Aranai* Gee, thanks.

Aranai: *Shrugs* Just telling the truth.

Kisouna: *Sighs and shakes her head* In any case, it's good that you're both here since we can get to work now.

Shisuta: *Looks down at the papers and folders* What are these?

Kisouna: Information on every team that's most likely going to enter the Division Rap Battle.

Shisuta: *Looks up at Kisouna* Every team? *Looks back down at the folders*

Aranai: *Frowns* No offense Boss-Lady, but I highly doubt that all of these teams are going to join.

Kisouna: *Looks seriously at Aranai* We don't know that for sure. Remember who it is that's overseeing this tournament.

[At that, both Aranai and Shisuta frowned as they knew that Chuohku, or more specifically, the Party of Words, were the ones who put all this together.]

Kisouna: Chuohku will use any means necessary to get what they want. *Looks back down at her papers* These teams could have voluntarily joined or could have been extorted into joining, like us.

Shisuta: *Frowns* True.

Aranai: But what would they want with all these teams in their tournament for anyway?

Kisouna: I don't know. The benefits may seem to be for the team that wins the tournament, but we all know Chuohku isn't that generous. Whatever their end game is, it only serves to benefit them in the end.

Shisuta: Wouldn't the safest option be not to win, then?

Aranai: No way! You know what happens to the territories of the teams that lose, right?

Shisuta: *Nods* Yes, they are given to the overall winners of the tournament.

Aranai: Exactly! And I don't know about you guys, but I'd rather not see Ueno in the hands of someone else.

Kisouna: *Nods* Crudely put, but I agree.

Shisuta: *Nods, a serious expression on her face* As do I. *Looks back at Kisouna*

Shisuta: But if what you say is true, and this tournament only helps to benefit Chuohku, then what can we do?

Kisouna: *Sighs, shaking her head* I'm afraid there's not much we can do, Shisuta. As of right now, we, the other teams, the Divisions, even the Hypnosis Microphones, are all just the government's puppets.

Aranai: Puppets?!

Shisuta: *Puts her hand up in a calming manner* It's an expression, Aranai.

Kisouna: As long as Chuohku is holding onto the strings, we can do nothing but move as they want us to. *Looks up at her teammates*

Kisouna: And if any of us even thinks of stepping out of line, they'll bring the entire force of the government down upon us.

[All three women sat in uncomfortable silence as the reality of the situation came upon them. They knew the consequences of what would happen if they lost, or worse, if they refused to acquiesce to Chuohku's wishes. As Kisouna stated, the PoW were the ones holding all the cards, and there was little they any of them could do about it.]

Aranai: *Her head is down, shadows over her eyes* ...I'm sorry.

[At this, both of the other women looked up at their leader, surprised. It was rare for them to hear Aranai apologize for something, and be so serious about it.]

Kisouna: ...Sorry for what?

Aranai: *Still has her head down* For being the reason why we're in this mess, to begin with.

Kisouna: *Confused* What are you talking about, Aranai?

Aranai: You both read the letter, didn't you? The reason we're forced to join this tournament is because of me. *Has her left arm over her chest, holding onto her right arm*

Aranai: If we didn't join, then the government would have used my past as an excuse to put me away. Maybe for good.

Kisouna: Aranai... *Opens her mouth to say more, but doesn't know what to say*

Aranai: *Laughs bitterly* Guess it's true what they say. You can never escape your past no matter how hard you try. I mean... I knew it would catch up with me eventually, but I...

[As the former Bōsōzoku was about to continue her speech, she was shocked as she was suddenly pulled forward into a hug. Glancing upward, Aranai looked as Shisuta had her hand on the back of the leader's head, putting it in the nun's bosom.]

Shisuta: *A gentle smile is on her face* That is enough. No more talking like that.

Aranai: *Still shocked* S-Shisuta...

Shisuta: No one here blames you for this. You've moved on from being the person that you once were. And for Chuohku to try to use that against you is wrong and inexcusable of them.

Aranai: Y-yeah, but...

Shisuta: No buts. *Lifts Aranai's face to look at her* You are not the same as you were yesterday. The fact that you feel sorry and upset about it is proof of that.

Shisuta: *Looks behind at Kisouna on the couch* Don't you agree, Kisouna-san?

Kisouna: Y-yeah. *Clears her throat before speaking*

Kisouna: Shisuta is right, Aranai. Neither of us blames you for this predicament. It was only a matter of time before Chuohku targeted us. If it wasn't you, then it more than likely would have been one of us. If they didn't use your past, then they would have found something else to use instead. *Looks down at all the papers on the table, again*

Kisouna: That just shows how despicable and desperate they are to have everything under their control.

Shisuta: *Nods in agreement* Indeed. *Looks back down at Aranai*

Shisuta: So stop blaming yourself for this. This is Chuohku's doing, not yours.

Aranai: Y-yeah. *Clears her throat as she is released from Shisuta's grasp*

Aranai: Sorry, you guys. *Looks away, hiding the pink on her cheeks* And, t-thank you.

Shisuta: *Smiles* You are welcome.

Kisouna: *Smirks* It's a shame I didn't have my camera on me. A picture of you humbled like that would have been one for my scrapbook.

Aranai: *Scowls at Kisouna* Ha-ha. Laugh it up. Just know: if you tell anyone about this, I'll hurt you.

Kisouna: *Still smirking* Of course.

[At that, all three women stared at one another, before chuckling and finally laughing out loud, their spirits renewed.]

Kisouna: Alright. *Looks at her teammates, a confident look on her face* That's enough small talk. Let's get to work!

Aranai & Shisuta: Right!

[For the next hour, the trio spent their time looking through the various teams and individuals, analyzing their strengths, weaknesses, abilities, and anything else they felt might give them an edge in the tournament.]

Aranai: *Sitting on the floor, looking through a random folder with a frown* Is Chuohku just sending everyone a Hypnosis Microphone? *Puts the folder down on the floor*

Aranai: Some of these teams I've never even heard of before.

Kisouna: *Sitting on her sofa, looking through a different folder* The Party of Words is responsible for the mass development of the Hypnosis Microphones. In a way, you could call them the real power behind Chuohku.

Aranai: *Has a confused look on her face* Yeah, but aren't Hypnosis Microphones dangerous? Why send them out to a bunch of strangers? In fact, why send them out at all? With that kind of power, they could easily take over all of Japan without going through the trouble of having everyone compete in a tournament.

Kisouna: *Puts her folder down* I may be wrong, but I don't think Chuohku's goal is to take over Japan. They already did that when they usurped power during WWIII.

Shisuta: True. *Lays her folder down beside her on the other end of the couch*

Shisuta: After their takeover, they put a ban on all firearms, and instead developed the Hypnosis Microphones as a way to settle disputes. *Sighs, sorrowfully*

Shisuta: Battle is still the same. The only difference is the weapons.

Aranai: *Still has a confused look* Yeah, but why? Why send out the Hypnosis Microphones in the first place? If their goal is to make everyone fear and obey them, wouldn't it be smarter to keep them for themselves?

Aranai: And why go through all the trouble of creating a tournament just to give the winners money and the losers' territory? What does Chuohku get out of it?

[Aranai's questions gave the three women much to think about. Why did Chuohku go to all the trouble of sending out Microphones when they could just use to them exert dominance on everyone? And why create a tournament just to reward the winner? It didn't add up.]

Kisouna: I don't know what Chuohku is up to, but you have to remember, the PoW doesn't do things for no reason. This tournament is probably their way to exert loyalty from the masses and the Divisions.

Aranai: 'Loyalty?' For what? Just because they reward the winners with some cash and some land?

Kisouna: I think by rewarding the winners of the tournament, they are showing their supposed benevolence to everyone in Japan, in hopes of getting the populace on their side.

Shisuta: For what reason, though? As Aranai stated, they could easily dominate anyone who opposes them.

Kisouna: *Shakes her head 'no'* Ruling with fear isn't always the best way to rule if history is anything to go by. Fear leads to anger, which leads to hate. If Chuohku started oppressing the masses, they'd have riots on their hands all throughout Japan.

Aranai: *Shrugs* So? Couldn't they just put them down? Seems like an easy thing to do.

Kisouna: They could, but that'd just lead to more people fearing and hating them. *Shakes her head* Of course, this is all just speculation.

[At that, the three women returned back to work, though their minds were still heavy with the number of questions they were still left with. The room was relatively quiet, as the trio studied and looked through various files and folders.]

Kisouna: *Looking up at Aranai from her folder* By the way Aranai, has Chuohku sent you another letter about the team(s) we'll be facing yet?

Aranai: *Shakes her head 'no'* Nope. And trust me, I've been checking my mailbox and email like crazy for any letter that has a PoW symbol on it.

[A few seconds later, the leader of SC felt a short, but loud 'chime' emanating from her coat pocket, which was a sign that she had just received a new email on her cell phone.]

Aranai: *Rolls her eyes* Probably more junk mail...

[Sighing, the former Bōsōzoku pulled her phone out and looked as the screen on the phone brightened, revealing the email. She frowned as the subject of the email read, 'Untitled'.]

Aranai: *Rolls her eyes again* Knew it.

[Preparing to delete it, the SC leader opened the letter, preparing to hit the 'send to junk' button on her email app. However, she suddenly stopped as she spotted a familiar insignia on the top right corner of the message. Her eyes grew big and wide as she instantly recognized it.]

Aranai: *Looks up at the other two women* Hey guys, *Kisouna and Shisuta look up at her* Guess who just sent me an email about the tournament.

Kisouna: *Her eyes grow wide* Chuohku?

Aranai: *Nods* Yup.

[Walking over to the sofa where the others sat, Aranai placed herself in the middle as Shisuta and Kisouna huddled near her.]

Shisuta: What's it say?

Aranai: Umm... *Scrolls down on her phone to reveal some of the email* ...it's a tournament bracket.

[Flipping her phone horizontally, the trio looked as there was a large-sized bracket filled with numerous teams. Most of them were obviously from different divisions, but some were present right here in the city of Ueno.]

Aranai: I don't recognize half of the teams on this list.

Kisouna: They must be complete unknowns.

[Scrolling down on the phone again, the trio was surprised to see that the email still wasn't done. Just below the bracket, there was a video file. Clicking it with her finger, the file opened on Aranai's phone, revealing the figure of Otome Tohoten sitting behind her desk in the PoW HQ in Chouhku, with her hands locked together as she was staring at the camera.]

Aranai: *Looks at her teammates* Do we have to play it? I really don't feel like listening to this woman any more than I have to.

Kisouna: *Scowls* Neither do I, but if she has something important to say about the tournament, then we have no choice.

[Groaning, the former Bōsōzoku reluctantly pressed the big blue 'play' button on the video, starting it up as the Prime Minister began speaking.]

Otome: Salutations. If you are viewing this video, then you are either a team or Division leader, and have successfully filled out you and your team’s registration for the Division Rap Battle Tournament. And for that, allow me to say, ‘congratulations.’

Aranai: She sure loves to hear herself talk, doesn’t she?

Kisouna: Shh!

Otome: As you can all see by the bracket, which I hoped you viewed before playing this video, these are the teams that will be participating in the Division Rap Battle Tournament, which I am pleased to announce as of right now has officially begun.

[At this, all three women’s eyes grew large and wide.]

Aranai: *Shocked* What?! I thought the tournament was supposed to start in a few weeks!

Otome: I imagine that many of you are feeling shocked and/or upset at this news. And for that, I apologize. *A grin then appears on her face*

Otome: However, I felt a few more weeks of waiting would be too long for you and the people of Japan to wait for the tournament. Thus, I felt that having it begin right away would be more beneficial for everyone.

Aranai: *Growls* That bitch!

Shisuta: *Frowns* Aranai!

Aranai: *Frowns back* Sorry, but...

Kisouna: Shh! Quiet, she's still talking!

Otome: *The grin is gone from her face* In each division, there are four teams in total. These teams will compete against one another in the qualifying rounds. The last team remaining will be the official team selected to represent their division, and will move on to the semi-finals, which will be held a week later.

[After finishing her sentence, a small square-like screen appeared beside the Chairwoman, which showed a large dome, which was obviously a coliseum.]

Otome: On the last day of the tournament, the Division teams will proceed to the special Coliseum, here in the heart of Chuohku, where they will compete against one another to determine the overall winner(s) of the tournament. The winning team will not only be awarded 100,000,000 yen for each member but will also receive the territory of the defeated divisions, as well as the prestige that comes with being the winners.

Aranai: *Scoffs* Yeah, a lot of good that does us...

Otome: You will all soon receive a schedule, detailing when and where your battles will take place. *Her grin returns* I wish you all the best of luck. I, as well as the whole of Japan, are looking forward to a good tournament. Do not disappoint us.

[With that final threat, the image of the Chairwoman vanished and was replaced with the familiar insignia of the Party of Words, as the video soon ended. As it did, all in the room was relatively quiet, save the hissing from the air vent which blew out cool air into the room.]

Aranai: ...Well... *She sighs* ...shit.

Shisuta: *Frowns again* Aranai...

Aranai: *Frowns back* Shisuta, please... don't start.

Kisouna: Indeed. *Sighs* I hate to say it, but I agree with our leader's choice of words, vulgar though they may be. *Lets her head fall back, hitting the couch as she places her right hand on her forehead*

Kisouna: This turn of events does not bode well for us.

Aranai: Well, no kidding! Now we have less time to prepare than we did before!

Shisuta: Indeed.

Kisouna: It's our own fault. We should have expected this sort of thing from Chuohku. It's not out of sort for them.

Aranai: Yeah, but still! They could have at least gave us some heads-up! Why the hell did...

[In the middle of her rant, the Sakurai leader felt her phone vibrate and beep in her pocket for the second time today. Growling, she briskly pulled it out of her pocket and looked as a notification appeared on her home screen signaling that she had received another email. Like the previous one, the title of it read, 'Untitled'.]

Aranai: *Sarcastically* Gee, now who could this be from, I wonder...

[Touching it, the email app reappeared on the screen, the email showing up. Like the previous one, a familiar insignia was shown on the upper right part of the email: the Party of Words.]

Kisouna: Chuohku?

Aranai: *Nods* Hmm.

Shisuta: You certainly have to admire their diligence. When they say they will do something, they do it.

Kisouna: Indeed. *Looks at Aranai* So, what's it say?

Aranai: *Looking at her phone* ...It's our match schedule. Apparently, our first match is the day after tomorrow at 8 P.M.

Shisuta: Who are we facing?

Aranai: Some unknown group called Ueno's Crusaders.

Six days later...

-- The Art of Law, Ueno Division --

[It was early evening as a groan escaped Kisouna Yuzairu's mouth as sat in her office, rubbing her eyes in a circular motion, trying to wake herself up. With the announcement that the Division Rap Battle had begun almost a week ago by the Chairwoman, the city of Ueno was in an uproar over it.]

[Four days ago, the team of Sakurai Clan had scored a decisive victory over the team of Ueno's Crusaders. In fact to call it a 'victory' would be a complete and gross understatement. The team of SC had completely trounced the other team in a matter of minutes. Even without the judges' announcement, it was clear to everyone that SC were the winners.]

[With their victory over the Crusaders, Sakurai Clan now had one final hurdle to pass: the team of the Benten Shōguns, who also had a victory under their belt after defeating their opponents. Whichever team won would be the team to represent the Ueno Division.]

Kisouna: *A tired, but determined look is on her face* We have to win this battle tonight.

[In an effort to make sure that their team was prepared not only for the qualifiers but also for the tournament itself, Kisouna had been pushing the team nonstop. If they weren't studying up their opponents, ascertaining their strengths and weaknesses, they were practicing their hearts and souls out. Though she knew it was for the good of the team and for Ueno, the prosecuting attorney personally could not wait for this whole mess to be over with. Between her work, the tournament, and taking care of her daughter, it was a wonder she wasn't dead on her feet.]

Kisouna: *Sighs, rubbing her eyes* When this tournament is over, I'm taking Yomi with me on a nice, long vacation...

-- Ueno Park --

[The time was five minutes to 8 P.M. in Ueno Park. Despite it being evening time, the park was still open to all. In fact, evening time was really when the park started to get busy. The majestic scene of the cherry blossom trees blowing their beautiful flower petals in the air, created a very tranquil and beautiful picture, like something out of a work of art. It was no wonder that this was Japan's most popular park, and the site for many of its festivals.]

[As stated, normally the park still had throngs of people walking amongst the pavement despite the time of day. But with news of the Division Rap Battle taking place, it seemed as if almost all of Ueno City was present here, even though it was just the qualifying rounds. However, tonight's round would be the deciding factor. Which of the two teams would be the one to go on to Chuohku to represent Ueno Division in the tournament: the Benten Shōguns, or the Sakurai Clan?]

[With the time for battle swiftly approaching, both groups stepped onto the stage, with cheers, shouts, and applause from the crowd. Both teams were staring at one another, knowing full well what was at stake. Kisouna appeared focused, but out of the corner of her eye, she could see her daughter, Yomi, sitting on the shoulder of Aranai's friend, Kaba. The young girl was smiling and waving at her mother, who discreetly smiled and waved back, though her attention went right back to the matter at hand.]

[Shisuta had her eyes closed, but was subtly moving her lips. Both Aranai and Kisouna knew she was most likely praying, as she always did. Lastly, Aranai tried to ignore the beating of her heart, which seemed to be all she could hear at the moment until the moment that the announcer stepped onto the stage between the two teams. It was a female, wearing the traditional uniform of the Party of Words, which was no real surprise since this tournament was being held and funded by them. Everyone in attendance quieted down as their attention was now focused on her.]

Announcer: Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls! This is the qualifying round to determine Ueno Division's representatives for the D.R.B.! Which of these two teams will emerge victorious and go on to Chuohku to represent Ueno City?

Announcer: Will it be... *Points to the shōguns* ...the team of the Benten Shōguns? *Moderate shouts and cheers*

Announcer: Or... *Points to the Sakurai Clan* ...the team of the Sakurai Clan? *Loud shouts and cheers*

Announcer: Since the Shōguns won the coin toss, they get to go first!

Aranai: *Frowns at the announcer* I still say that toss was rigged...

Announcer: So without further ado, let the battle begin!

[Moving off stage, the SC looked as Shōguns began their song, which, admittingly, was well-done, as most of the crowd was rather engrossed in it.]

Aranai: *Looks back at her teammates* I hate to admit it, but these guys are actually pretty good.

Shisuta: *Nods* Indeed. They have really good unison.

Kisouna: Well, it'd be disappointing if they were a lackluster team after making it to the finals.

Aranai: We need a good song if we want to pull this off. Any ideas?

Shisuta: Hmm... oh! What about that song we've been practicing these few days?

Kisouna: *Looks skeptical* Are you sure? We still haven't exactly put the finishing touches on it.

Aranai: No better time than the present. Besides, we've got no choice. We're up next.

[As the Shōguns' song finished, it was met with cheers and applause from the audience as they proceeded off stage.]

Announcer: A spectacular performance from the Benten Shōguns! The Sakurai Clan will have to pull off all the stops in order to win! And now without further ado, the Sakurai Clan!

[Stepping back on stage, the group was again met with cheers as they stood in front of the audience on the stage.]

Aranai: *Looks back at her teammates* You guys ready for this?

Shisuta: *Nods, cheerfully* Hai!

Kisouna: *Nods* Let's do it.

Aranai: Right!

Bring the Beat!

[Sakurai Clan:]

Listen to my song, grasp this crazy game We’re going to protect our space Everyone look, it’s not bad to see my face Kicking my rap is just like this!

Listen to my song, grasp this crazy game You should stop before you get burnt You’ll never forget once you hear my phrase Kicking my rap is just like this!

Just like this… Just like this…

[Aranai:]

Yes, yes, y’all Hey yo! Do you remember me? It's Ride or Die, the master emcee I'm not afraid of a backroom brawl Mess with me, you best be ready to play ball! Have I lost some fights? Sadly yes, I'll admit But never once did I yell, 'I quit!' And I never will cause that's not who I am! Even if the odds are stacked, I'll still play my hand!

[Kisouna:]

'He who wishes to fight must first count the cost' That doesn't apply to me. In the end, it's your loss! Many people go to war, and then seek to win But I do just the opposite, again and again My win/loss ratio speaks for itself Because everything that's not positive, I quickly expel! Cause trouble in Ueno, you won't escape punishment A new sheriff is in town, and her name is Verdict!

[Shisuta:]

Blessed and highly favored, that's all I need to be In the splendor of God's glory, I have the victory! Ueno City's my home, and thus, has my heart As long as we stay strong, we won't be torn apart! A fool once stated, 'love gets in the way' But I wholely believe that love paves the way That's why, as The Saint, no matter the pain I will never have a reason to complain (Plain, Plain, Plain...)

[Sakurai Clan:]

Listen to my song, grasp this crazy game Listen to my song, grasp this- game Listen to my song… Listen to my song… Listen to my song…

Listen to my song, grasp this crazy game We’re going to protect our space Everyone look, it’s not bad to see my face Kicking my rap is just like this!

Listen to my song, grasp this crazy game You should stop before you get burnt You’ll never forget once you hear my phrase Kicking my rap is just like this!

Listen to my song, grasp this crazy game We’re going to protect our space Everyone look, it’s not bad to see my face Kicking my rap is just like this!

Listen to my song, grasp this crazy game You should stop before you get burnt This is Sakurai Clan's funky sounds Kicking my rap is just like this!

[As the final beat to the song ended, the entirety of Ueno Park was filled with cheers and screams as the song ended, with the majority of them cheering for the second group who just finished.]

Crowd: Sakurai! Sakurai! Sakurai!

[The cheers ceased to stop even as the announcer stepped back on stage.]

Announcer: Well ladies and gentlemen, it seems clear by the shouts and cheers that we have our winning team! So with that being said, it gives me great honor to introduce to you the winners of the match, and the Ueno Division's representatives for the D.R.B., the Sakurai Clan!

[A light shined down from the stage as the rap group was illuminated in light, which seemed to fit as the crowd continued cheering and shouting for them. The three women stood on stage, smiles on their faces, proud of their accomplishment. Shaking heads with the opposing team, the group was quickly overwhelmed by the cheers of the crowd, as many yelled for an encore of their song.]

Aranai: *Looks back at her teammates* Something tells me this is going to be a long night...

Kisouna: *Sighs* Unfortunately.

Shisuta: *Smiles* Well, that's popularity.

Aranai: True that. *Takes her microphone back out of her coat pocket* What do you say, girls? Got room for one more song?

Kisouna: *Sighs again, but nods* Why not? Doesn't seem I'll be getting Yomi to bed anytime soon, anyway.

Shisuta: *Nods* I'm in!

Aranai: Then let's do it... again!

Shisuta & Kisouna: Right!

[With that, the city park was filled with cheers as the group continued their song. And the night sky filled with stars as it signaled just another day in the great city of Ueno...]

To be continued...

[bluepenguinstories]

Remoras Full Chapter XXXIX: Nun the Wiser

Through the still silence and the lack of temperature (despite its location geographically, inside the fog was a feeling of neither warmth nor frozen cold, but just dead air) within the mist-filled landscape I made my way into hell. As if a lighthouse beacon, the orange glow inside of the diner could be seen, even as a faint glimmer from afar. There were strips of lighting, meant as a sort of walkway, but the destination meant more to me than the journey. After all, the journey was a torturous undertaking.

Three knocks: no answer.

Foreboding already. Should I have expected anything less?

When I fled from the convent, I didn’t know what I would expect. All I heard were rumors of a lone restaurant, buried out in the depths of this accursed omen that I could take shelter in. What happened back in that convent that I was forced to flee? Have I committed some horrible crime against the church? Was I excommunicated? Or was it that my former home had been destroyed, forever set ablaze by the darkness in men’s hearts and as such, I could no longer return, as I no longer had a home to return to?

No. I wouldn’t speak a word of it. I’ve made my vows and henceforth, there would be not another word on the subject.

Whether or not my presence was welcome, I pushed open the door with my delicate and frail hands. It crept slow and a credible creaking sound followed. As I awaited the chaos that followed, light leaked through and shone almost as bright as heaven itself (oh, the irony). Once the light faded, lost in the abyss which surrounded me, I was face to face with a crowd of sick and dying alike. Injured and scared, people all huddled together en masse.

However, through all of that, there was an air of perseverance: food was brought to everyone’s table by a young girl with snowy hair. Commotion could be heard in the kitchen from afar, even with all the wails and conversation of the crowded dining hall: sounds of pots and pans clattering and clanging, hisses and searing of oil, meats, and vegetables. Its aroma permeated throughout the air and I allowed myself a sniff.

I walked through the dining area, as if aimless and without a purpose. Of course, I wasn’t without aim, but I had to appear as such until the right person showed up. Seeing as I didn’t know what the right person looked like yet...I may as well have been without aim.

Soon enough through my wander and best attempts not to be swayed by the delicious aromas set at each table, someone took notice of me and sauntered up to me: a tall and radiant black beauty. Her smile beamed with such a brightness that I was sure that through all the darkness in this world, she must have been a source of light.

“Heya. I take it you’ve come seeking shelter?” She squatted down and leaned her face close against mine. As welcoming as she was, I had to back away, for fear of her noticing anything in particular about my face. Let it be known that I was more than a little bit self-conscious. That even with my mouth and the top of my head covered by cloth, that there would be something seen about me that would be deemed revealing.

Once I backed away one step, I gave a single nod in return.

“Well, go ahead and seat yourself wherever you like. There’s not a lot of room, so you might have to huddle up next to someone,” she informed me.

While I appreciated the offer and should have been grateful with just that, I couldn’t bear to just sit tight and wait for a meal. Not only that, but I wasn’t about to remove the cloth from over my mouth. If I were to do that, then others could see my lips. Even something as simple as that…

So I produced a notepad and a pen from one of the pockets of my black habit and wrote down a note, then handed it to her.

“Oh? What’s this?” She scanned her eyes across the paper and had a look of delight on her face. Afterward, however, she scratched the back of her head and gave a sort of confused face of distress.

“Wait right here. I’ll get my husband.”

I nodded, and was once again left alone in the aisle between the despondent people. I took quick glances, little notes of the demographics: all adults, luckily. No child should have to deal with such hellish circumstances. Though...there was the white haired child, delivering plates to tables and asking around. What was her deal, her story? What was it that brought her to such a place?

“Is the menu visible for you?” She asked one of the guests, a flat brown haired young man in a puffy vest and jeans.

“Don’t you mean ‘have you had time to look at the menu’?”

She looked down and smiled, then shook her head.

“Yes, but I imagine it only takes a second to look at something, so long as it is visible to you. Amen.”

Is she supposed to be the waitress here? If so, she doesn’t seem to have this whole ‘hospitality’ thing down. Then again, she is a child, so maybe the others go easy on you.

“Oh, Astraea. I can never be mad at you. You still have much to learn,” he waved the waitress off.

“Yes. I do. So, are you interested in eating food?” She asked, again, her voice remained soft and polite.

Well, she’s got the kind part down. Hopefully all of the refugees are as nice to her as that young man. At the very least, it seems they’re all familiar with her. Damn, though. I was really hoping that I could work as a waitress here.

“Yeah, I think I’d like mashed potatoes with biscuits and gravy,” the young man replied.

“Those are interesting foods to eat. I will let the head chef know,” she informed him.

“Thank you, Astraea.”

“You’re welcome, Olivier.”

She then spun around in place, then ran off.

“Star power!” She cried out in a sugary sweet voice as she ran toward the kitchen.

“Astraea. How many times do I have to tell you not to run in the dining room? You could slip and fall, not to mention drop someone’s order,” scolded an older man who sounded exhausted.

I faced forward to see him: a gaunt looking man with jet unkempt hair which almost covered his eyes, and they would, too, if not for the glasses he wore. His eyes had a dull, hazy look to them and there were bags underneath. Despite such a despairing air about him, his attire was far more dignified and sharp dressed: an ironed-out tuxedo and slacks, with white gloves covering his hands.

He approached me, then stopped and pulled out the paper that I handed to the beautiful woman, who, by coincidence, stood beside him.

Ah. So he must be the husband.

“So let me see…” He held up the paper close to his face. “Your name is Sister Cecilia. You’ve taken a vow of silence, and you’re a nun who was exiled from her convent. You came here seeking shelter and would like to help out any way you can. Did I get all that?”

I nodded. There was more that I would like to add, but everything had its place.

“Isn’t she cute, hun? I don’t think we’ve had a nun show up here before,” the wife commented.

Am I some kind of spectacle?

“Trust me, they’re not all that interesting. No offense,” he focused his gaze on me.

“None taken,” I wrote down. He leaned over and peered at what I had written.

“So that’s how you communicate, huh?”

I nodded.

“Well, you should consider making your words bigger. Some of us, myself included, would have a hard time reading anything so small.”

Again, I nodded. It was sound advice, and something which I hadn’t considered.

He drew an exasperated breath, then shook his head.

“Anyway, we’ve no need for sermons. I don’t think prayers will help our situation.”

“She could provide moral support,” the wife suggested, “besides, a few of the folks here are Christian, so she could entertain them.”

‘Entertain’? Is that the right word there?

“Nuns provide more than just prayer,” I scrawled the words down, then added, “it’s customary for a sister to go out and help out in the community.”

He looked around the dining room, then back at me.

“This is a community, yes, but by necessity, not by choice. You may take shelter here, but I have no work for you.”

“Oh, come on, Ray! You know we can use all the help we can get!” Ray’s wife nudged him.

“You can give her a task, then,” he groaned, “but I’m telling you, between you, I, Tigershark, Aurora, and Astraea, we’ve got most things covered. Not to mention whenever Wendy shows up, she takes some of these folks back to their homes. Anyone else would just be overkill.”

I then watched as he walked off toward the back of the diner. His wife, however, remained in front of me.

“Sorry about that, Sister. He used to be a lot more cheerful. Ray Sunshine, they’d call him. ‘Cause that’s his name, but also because he used to be more of a ray of sunshine.”

“I understand his disposition, given what lies outside,” I wrote down, big enough so she could see (heeding Ray’s advice) and held it up to her.

“Yeah...it’s not pleasant. He and I have both gotten our fair share of injuries out there. Of course, we’re used to the environment being extreme, but usually it’s because of blizzards or intense chill. This is different, though. Anyway, not to worry, I’m still Sunny! Nice to meet you!”

She held out her hand and I deliberated on whether or not to shake it. In the end, I extended my hand as well and took hers.

To my knowledge, there’s nothing she can infer about me from my hand.

She squeezed my hand and I squeezed back to meet her grip in turn.

“Oh wow, Sister. You have a firm grip,” Sunny observed.

I nodded. When she let go, I pulled out my pen and my notepad.

“As do you,” I wrote down.

“Ha! I have a feeling you and I will get along just fine, Sister Cecilia. I happen to have a thing for ladies with firm grips.”

I’m confused, but I’m going to assume that was a compliment.

“Thank you. You truly are a light in these dark times,” I wrote down.

“Oh my, you flatter me. If I wasn’t already married, I’d consider going out with you.”

Would you be saying such things if you knew who I was?

It was hard to tell whether or not she was serious, but I took it as a serious statement all the same.

“Need I remind you, I’m a nun,” I wrote down, slow and deliberate, emboldened so that she knew my words were serious. “We’re celibate and have taken a vow not to enter into any relationships, unless it be with God.”

Even then, hard to have a relationship with something that doesn’t exist.

“Aw, I forgot! Guess I’ll just have to admire you in my thoughts.”

I swear. If she ever finds out who I am under this saintly image, she’d change her tune real fast.

“Anyway…” she looked around with a precocious and carefree expression, “I’ve got it! You can be a hostess!”

“What is that?” I tilted my head and wrote down. I knew of a waitress, and a hostess sounded like the same thing. Which, to me, was a little redundant.

“Simple: you’d stand by the door and greet anyone who comes in. Then you’d direct people to their seats and let them know that you’ll bring the waitress to see them. Think you can do that?”

Really? Was that it? It seemed...too simple. Minimal effort. That, and “greeting people”? By holding up signs that said “welcome in”? Well, I couldn’t complain. If that’s what she had in mind, then I’d take whatever position I could get. It’s just…

“I imagine people don’t come by very often,” I wrote down so that I could address a flaw in Sunny’s proposal.

“Yeah, you got me there! Well, members of Aurora’s crew like to come in and out, since we share our food with them, so I’d say that should keep you somewhat busy. But yeah, I see your point. So...hmm...maybe...oh! You could help out Astraea, our waitress? See, she’s pretty friendly, but she can get a little confused at times, and she may need a little extra help as a waitress.”

I pointed my left thumb in the direction of the wandering child waitress.

“Mm-hmm! That’s her!”

Thank goodness. I can finally put my customer service experience to good use.

“I’ll do my best,” I wrote to Sunny.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine, hun!” She held up a thumb and smiled wide. She really was, by all accounts, radiant.

In the midst of our conversation, I failed to notice Astraea, the waitress in question herself, approach us.

“Hello, Sunny. Might this be another human that eats?” Astraea asked in a wispy voice.

“Yes, dear. This is Sister Cecilia. She is a nun,” Sunny explained to her.

“A nothing? But how can she be a nothing if she is something?” Astraea tilted her head.

“Not nothing, n-u-n, nun. They’re a type of religious folk.”

“I don’t know what that is. Are nuns human?”

Are nuns...excuse me?

In a fit of confusion, I scribbled down just one word:

“What?”

And held it up, first showing Sunny, then Astraea.

“Those are some interesting symbols,” Astraea pointed to the sheet of paper I held out.

“That’s a word,” Sunny explained, “because she’s taken a vow of silence, she writes down whatever she wants to say and has people read it out.”

“Vow of silence? How did she make a vow if she can’t speak?”

Sunny chuckled.

“I’m pretty sure she can speak. She probably spoke plenty before she took that vow. It’s just after that vow that she stopped speaking. Am I right, Sister Cecilia?”

I nodded.

More or less.

“I see. How interesting. I may have some difficulties holding conversations with her, but I am willing to try. Amen,” Astraea replied to Sunny, then returned to her waitress duties.

“As you can see, she’s a little confused, but she’s got the spirit,” Sunny assured me.

From what little I saw of her, I was inclined to agree. However, what that ‘spirit’ in question was, I had no idea.

Either way, I have a strange feeling around her. Like she knows more than she lets on. Or that she’s not all that she seems. I don’t know where that feeling comes from, yet I am unable to deny it all the same.

“So, before I let you go, Sister, is there anything else I can help you with?” Sunny asked.

I nodded, then jotted down my question:

“Where may I rest?”

Sunny gave a nervous chuckle.

“Anywhere you like. There’s not a lot of space, but anywhere you can find is good enough. Just don’t sleep in one of the restrooms, as I’m sure the others wouldn’t like that too much.”

Nor would I like sleeping in a restroom, either. Although I would like to eat in one of them, that way I have at least the smallest morsel of privacy whilst I eat. Under no circumstances should I let others see my mouth, as it would be far too revealing.

On the subject of privacy, I let my worldly desires get the better of me, as I wrote down a request:

“I would like a room to myself.”

Sunny hung her head low. It still wasn’t the dejected atmosphere which Ray held, but it was all the same, a look of disappointment.

“Sorry, Sister. There’s a lot of people and not a lot of space. I would if I could, but circumstances are dire and resources are already tight.”

Of course. I should have known better than to have made such a request.

“I understand,” I wrote out, “I’ll be fine with any room, then.”

“Hmm...there’s a room in the back. You’d still be sharing it with a couple of other people, but I can roll out a futon bed for you to sleep on, as I’m sure you wouldn’t want to share a bed with two other people.”

Yeah. No. Most definitely I did not want to.

“I can also roll out a sleeping bag, air mattress, take your pick.”

“Futon is fine,” I wrote down.

“Good! It’s in the back, down the hall, to your left when you walk in. Mine and Ray’s room is upstairs. Tigershark and Astraea share a room at the other end of the hall, so if you ever wanna visit them when they’re not busy, feel free.”

If I recall, Ray mentioned Tigershark being the head chef. That was, to say the least, an interesting name. Not to borrow one of Astraea’s words, but it was just the truth.

After Sunny explained all that, she too left and headed toward the back of the restaurant/shelter.

I’ve now been acquainted with almost all the staff here. That just leaves folks like Tigershark, Aurora, and Wendy. But if I had to choose, I’d say that Tigershark is the one I’m most interested in meeting next.

As if a prayer were answered, I heard a yell come from the kitchen. Gruff, yet shrill in its timbre.

“Order up!” Roared the voice of the head chef, and it sounded like the voice of a child.

Wait. You don’t mean…the head chef, too…?

My eyes followed the movements of Astraea as she strolled from one end of the dining area and into the kitchen door. Then, a few seconds later, she walked out with a plate and a glass of water in hand. On the plate was a dish of shrimp risotto and two gyoza rolls.

How...peculiar.

In tandem with the plate and glass being set down at one of the tables, the door to the kitchen burst open and out from it was a muscular young girl with red hair and orange streaks in the style of a pageboy haircut. She wore an apron with what appeared to be denim overalls underneath, and underneath those overalls was a long sleeved blue and gold striped T-shirt. Tight-laced leather boots topped off her attire, and if there were any more details to take note of, I didn’t have much of a chance to observe, as she darted toward me.

“Hello!” She beamed. “Are you new here? My name’s Tigershark!”

I nodded, then wrote down the same thing I wrote for Ray. I handed Tigershark the sheet of paper and her eyes scanned across the page.

“Oh wow! I’ve never met a real life nun before! I think Ray told me about them once.”

Astraea soon joined beside Tigershark.

“Look, Tigershark, isn’t this an interesting human?” Astraea pointed me out.

“Yes, she is! She’s a nun! I’ve heard about them before, but never seen them!”

Astraea looked down and smiled.

“I still don’t know what a nun is,” her assured statement made it seem like she was content not knowing, yet it seemed quite the opposite.

“They’re like how you say amen a lot, but with them, it’s their job!” Tigershark explained, in what may have been the simplest and least accurate of ways.

“Does that mean that they get paid for it?” Astraea put her finger on her chin and wondered.

“No,” I wrote down.

“What does that say?” Astraea looked at the paper.

“It says ‘no’. Like, she doesn’t get paid, I guess?”

I nodded. Correct.

Tigershark held out her hand. Same game as Sunny, I suppose. I took it and shook, and to my surprise, Tigershark’s grip was also very tight.

Then again, much like Sunny, Tigershark has quite muscular arms.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Sister Cecilia!”

When she let go, I wrote down:

“You as well. You’re almost as tall as me.”

It was true; although if I had to guess, she was about 137 centimeters, she was still what I would consider tall for a child, and as for me...let’s just say there was a reason I wore heels. As uncomfortable as they were on my feet, with them on, I was 154 centimeters, and appeared just tall enough that I didn’t have to be so self-conscious about my height.

“Really? Well, Ray says I’m growing fast, and I’m almost 11! I’ll have my 11th birthday in a few weeks, and then in a few months after that, I’ll be 11 for real! I’m just not sure about the exact day!”

That was...confusing. Did she not know her own birthday? In any case, the thing I was most shocked about was the idea that she still had more growing to do. I feared for the day in which she outgrew me. Me, a grown adult woman.

“When it’s Tigershark’s 11th birthday, it will be mine as well,” declared Astraea. “We decided it last year. I will also be 11 because I recently learned that I am not 19 but in fact, Tigershark’s age, due to the fact that some of my years weren’t actually a year long.”

Again: what?

For the remainder of the day, I shadowed Astraea and made sure she did all that was expected of her. I’d often find myself writing down apologies to the guests and asking for their patience, although by the look of things, they were more or less used to her. Not long after, I turned in for the night in the room which Sunny had directed me to.

Inside were two other people, just as I was told there would be: one, a balding man with a tank-top on, an inappropriate attire for the type of environment we were in (or, I would say that, except the fog has negated any sense of ‘cold’ or ‘warm’ altogether) with cuts and bruises all over his arms, chest, and face. He drew labored breaths as he lay on the bed in what looked to be a cold sweat. As red as his cuts were, and as purple as the bruises were, at least it seemed that none of his wounds were open.

He must have only come here recently, I noted.

Knelt down on the floor beside the bed, was a woman, with brunette hair tied in a bun and wearing a thick, brown overcoat. She too had scratches on her face, like claw marks, and her overcoat itself was torn up, almost in tatters. Neither of them looked in great shape, yet the kindest thing I could say was that they would live. They had each other for comfort and that had to count for something. That was more than I could say about myself; what could I offer them? Empty prayers. Such things would have done them no good.

Despite my request for a room, I nevertheless felt like an intruder to those people. They didn’t acknowledge my existence as they were too preoccupied with their own predicament. All the better. Even in a superficial sense, I’d love nothing more than to have been left alone.

So I walked past them and laid myself down on the futon next to the dresser. I curled my legs and removed my high-heeled shoes. I’d be damned if I didn’t have some bruises and calluses from wearing them for so long. Those things were a punishment far greater than any of my sins. Yet wear them, I had to, for the sake of appearance.

Being who I was, I had to throw away any notion of ‘comfort’ for the sake of appearance. There was little comfort in my attire, especially given my blasphemous thoughts. Some folks held faith in a higher power, others were comfortable with having faith in humanity; I had neither. We were all cruel creatures of desire who both suffered and inflicted suffering upon others. We created deities as scapegoats to pawn our problems off on, we –

No, I had to stop before it spiraled further. Such thoughts were a bad habit, and within the pockets of my bad habit were notepads and pens, an endless amount of papers as a means of communication. Beside that was a means of protection, one which I hoped I wouldn’t have to present. At least not yet.

What am I doing, dressing up like some holy woman? How long am I going to keep up this act? I hold nothing sacred, nothing holy. I devote myself to no one and nothing, but act with self-preservation. So when will I present myself as a faithless, faceless mannequin like I really am? Or as a mannequin, am I meant to be dressed up to play a role, put myself on display, and pass by without a second’s thought.

My eyes shut. Soon I was on my back, and although I knew little rest would come, I still tried to bring myself to some semblance of respite.

I had a dream about bells. Church bells or school bells, couldn’t tell. That I had any dream at all was a miracle, as I wasn’t one to remember many of my dreams. That, and sleep seldom came to me. But there I was, sat up on the floor, and the bells still rung in my ear.

“SISTER CECILIA!” Roared the voice of Ray from afar. Such a vocal force vibrated through my skin and past my ribs, reverberated past my heart and out the other end.

Who?

“SISTER CECILIA!” Again, those two words, harsher, more urgent.

Oh, right. That’s me. The bell tolls for me.

I rushed to my feet and held up my veil, making sure that the coif was on tight. The last thing I wanted to happen was for the hood to fall and for the others to see my hair. That would have been too much to handle, especially on the first night of being here.

Once I had it all straight and fastened, I darted out the door to the room, down the hall, and into the dining area where I saw Ray and Sunny side by side with the front door swung open. There was a howling, malevolent force outside. Not a gust of wind, but a shriek and a growl, some inhuman and near-inaudible sound. In front of them, between the hinges of the unknown gray outside and the discomforting familiarity inside was a skinny, near-emaciated looking shirtless man. He coughed, gagged, sputtered and blood ran from his mouth. Gashes surrounded his torso and I had a hard time imagining that he would live at all.

“Don’t just stand there! Help us out!” Ray turned to me.

But while I should have helped, something else compelled me to stay where I was. Something, or perhaps, someone else: Astraea.

She stood off to my side, to my right, next to one of the booths. She too stood in place, and had a look of concern about her. But it wasn’t a concern that you or I might have had for someone sick. No, it was a sense of confusion, instead.

“Why are you helping that human up?” Astraea asked, in much the way a child might ask why the sky was blue.

“Because he’s hurt,” Sunny replied.

“Why is he hurt?”

“Because of what’s outside?”

“Why? What’s outside?”

“We don’t know,” it was Ray’s turn to answer.

“Why don’t you know?”

“We just don’t!” He snapped. That did not deter her.

“But why? Why can’t you tell? Why can’t it be bears, wolves, a blizzard? Why is he hurt at all? Why do people get hurt? Why are people hurt when they come here? Why does pain exist? Why –”

She. Just. Kept. Going. On.

I’ve always hated it, that word: Why? It was like when we’re young, that’s all we ask, and we expect an answer, but then when we get an answer, we’re just left with more questions, and no matter how much it’s broken down, there’s always going to be more questions until it all becomes pointless. Doubt is healthy, necessary, even, but do we all have to know the reason for every little thing?

“Astraea, go back to bed, honey,” Sunny urged.

“Why should I? Why can’t I know? Why can’t you know?”

Why won’t it stop? Was my own question. I was ready to put my hands over my ears and cover them up, open my mouth, scream, reveal my voice, have everything come crashing –

“Stop! Just stop!” I wanted so bad to yell that out.

– But I was saved by the cross tone of Ray Sunshine.

“Damn it! Sister Cecilia, are you going to do your job and help us out?!”

That snapped me out of any possible trance I was in and I rushed to their aide. I helped the poor man up and led him to an empty space at one of the booths. He moaned and wheezed and bobbed his head. There was a part of me which didn’t expect him to make it, that he would drop dead, before I even got him to take his seat.

But lo and behold, he did. He looked miserable, in tears, but he too, I would have to hope, would survive.

“I’ll bring you a glass of water. The waitress will be with you shortly,” I wrote down on my notepad and held it up to him. He squinted at it with a blurred vision, then looked up at me and nodded.

I began to walk up to Astraea, but Ray intercepted me.

“I’ll take it from here. You should get some rest,” he placed a hand on her shoulder and instructed.

“Thank you,” she replied. “So I shall. But please ask the man why he was hurt for me,” she requested. Ray glanced back to where I had placed the man, and it was like he was ready to roll his eyes. Instead of that, however, he turned back to Astraea.

“Will do.”

At the same time Astraea walked away, Ray walked past me, in the direction of the new guest.

“He’ll tell me the same thing they’ve all told me. He doesn’t know why he’s hurt any more than I do, but he knows his pain is real,” he muttered to himself, a grim sense of futility in his voice.

“Ray, let me help you,” Sunny pleaded. “I’ll bring the food out.”

“Do as you like,” he gave a dismissive reply.

As for me, I thought that was all I was needed for, that I too would head back into my room. But I kept my word. I walked off into the kitchen and filled up a glass of water. When I returned to the table, I set it down. Ray was still there, and he glanced at me.

“I could have done that myself,” he groaned.

Don’t give me that bullshit, I was ready to snarl, myself, just not out loud.

“But you didn’t have to,” I wrote down instead. Tact. It was as important in that hellscape as it ever was anywhere else.

He could have put up a fuss, but he looked at me for a few seconds longer, first his eyes showed scorn, then they shifted to a reluctant show of surrender. It was that shift which caused him to stand back up and wave his hand up.

“I’m going to make him a warm meal,” he called back to me, “you’re free to go back to bed until the next person arrives, or until morning. Sunny and I can handle this.”

As enticing as the offer of rest was, I followed him into the kitchen and wrote down.

“I can still help,” I showed the words to him.

“Yeah? What can you do?” His cold dismissal returned again. That time, I was stumped. There was no rebuttal I could have, but it felt wrong to just walk away, either.

“Well? Anything?” He pressed on.

I still had no answer and it dug deeper into me.

At last, he let out a sigh.

“Here: get out the eggs, flour, anything else I need, while I cook, OK?” He conceded. As someone who normally didn’t like work, let alone being told what to do, I was somewhat elated that he allowed me to help him in any way at all.

That was but the first night, in early August. Ever since then, there had been little progress in the way of the situation outside, or inside. Ray and Sunny gave the residents what little medical attention they knew to give. Ray was still the same self I witnessed upon my initial entry, but at least as the days passed, he acknowledged my presence. It wasn’t really progress, but it was something. Maybe all that I could hope for.

Each time someone entered, the bell would ring above the door, and I would assist whatever victim or passerby of the fog happened to cross the threshold into our domain. Some people’s injuries were worse than others. Sometimes, there were few injuries at all, and all I had to do was greet them and point them out to their table. Those were the lucky ones. I too was lucky, as when I first entered, the furthest I felt was an oppressive feeling that I was surrounded and eyes were on me in every direction.

Sometimes people carried with them the mindset of a customer, and not some desperate soul seeking shelter. That despite what horrible ordeals they’ve had to endure, they retained their entitled attitude. Those were the worst. Men, women, whoever. Young and old and anywhere in between. It didn’t matter. They were all a grating nightmare.

“Welcome in,” were the two words I would hold up on a sheet of paper when someone entered.

“Why howdy, ma’am!” Entered a burly middle-aged man in a cowboy hat and ultra thick mustache.

“Allow me to show you to your seat,” I held up the next sheet of paper. It had become a routine, and it was fine enough, I served a purpose, just as I wanted to. But damn, at times it could be boring.

“Why won’t you talk, little lady?” He asked instead. I had the most primal urge to growl, but I suppressed it.

“I’ve taken a vow of silence,” I wrote down.

“Aw, but I’m sure you have a lovely voice. And what’s with that cloth over your mouth? Got a cold or something? How am I going to see your lovely smile?” His voice was condescending, coy and playful. Absolutely disgusting.

I stomped down on his boot, so hard that despite the hardened leather that he wore, he felt every ounce of my disgust.

“Owww!” He wailed, raised his leg and held his foot in his hands, “damn you, little lady.”

Too late. I’m already damned.

“Now. Right this way,” I wrote down and although reluctant, he nodded, tears in his eyes, and followed me. When I found an open seat, toward the back wall of the dining hall, he looked at me with scorn in his eyes. But he was free to feel however he wanted. I was done with him.

I walked over to Astraea, who had just finished setting down a plate at another table. I poked her shoulder, then pointed in the direction of the nosy man with the unbearable mustache.

“Thank you, Sister Cecilia. Amen,” she replied, as she did. Beside her, was a customer, a puffy blonde haired woman with a rosary around her neck.

“Oh, how wonderful! We have two devout Christians!” Proclaimed the lady.

Wrong on both counts.

“I don’t know what that is,” answered Astraea.

“Don’t you believe in God just as well as I do?”

“I don’t know of any gods.”

“But you should! My faith in Him moves mountains.”

“How?”

“Well, it’s just that strong.”

“Interesting. My faith moves my own two feet.”

“So you have faith? But what do you have faith in?”

Astraea smiled. Truth be told, I worried for her. She bore no ill words toward anyone, yet those ultra-religious types were so easy to set off. Like a firecracker.

“I have faith in what interests me, and there are so many interesting things in this world.”

“That’s all well and good, but you should know what it means to pray! I insist we have a prayer circle once we’re not busy.”

“Why?”

“Because! It would be good for you!”

Astraea walked away, not giving her an answer, yet she continued to show off that kind smile of hers.

“Humans are so interesting,” she remarked.

I followed her. What else was I to do?

Yes, when it came to a monotheistic deity, especially of the Christian variety, I had no such beliefs. It was that fact which made my very existence as a nun a farce. Even as far back as when I was young, I didn’t believe in the existence of some higher power. Despite my pessimism and bitter attitude, it had nothing to do with “if a benevolent God exists, why is there still suffering in the world?” Because as far as I could tell, suffering would find a way regardless of how all-powerful something was.

No, it just had to do with the fact that it made no sense to me. To put such a thing in such a high regard when at best, a celestial entity like that would look at us humans with indifference. After all, did we ponder the daily lives of bacteria? Wonder about the complexity in such small organisms? Even if we did, we didn’t shed tears over them, and our concern only extended to how much it affected us. So why put so much stock, so much worship, into something that even if it existed, didn’t care about us one iota?

Not only that, but why “He”? Why not “She”? Why “heavenly father”? Hell, why any gender at all? If those beings were such all-powerful entities, why would they need to be identified with a man, a woman, anything? Weren’t they above that?

There were so many imperfections which denoted a human, not a divine, origin. For all that talk of a creator, such a thing was at its core, a creation. At least I could have some respect for the religions with many deities. They didn’t hide or deny the human elements of their gods.

Of course, there was but one more aspect: proof. There was none one way or another. For all we knew, there could and there couldn’t be something out there, far off in the cosmos. But we had no way to tell, so why put stock into something which may not even be there at all? It just didn’t make sense, and I didn’t have the patience like Astraea to ask an endless barrage of “why?” Or “how?” As it stood, if there was some celestial being among us, how would such a thing present itself? What pronouns would they prefer?

“She’s such a wonderful girl, isn’t she?” One guest remarked about Astraea.

I shrugged my shoulders. Her words and actions often left me in confusion. Maybe that in itself was “wonderful”, just a different connotation of the word.

When all of the food was served, Tigershark ran out from the kitchen.

“Another meal was a success!” She stretched out her arm and held up her thumb.

“Good job, Tigershark,” Astraea gave Tigershark a pat upon her head.

Things soon went south: a few tables down, someone began to gag, then throw up. All three of us ran toward their table. It was a young woman, thin and shaking in her seat.

“Oh no! I swear, I cooked it all well!” Tigershark pouted, then reached over and wiped the woman’s mouth.

“What did she just do?” Astraea asked.

“She threw up,” Tigershark informed her.

Have you never seen someone throw up before?

“Sorry,” uttered the woman’s aching voice, “I think I was just so hungry I ate it too fast and...urp.”

“So you throw up when you eat too fast?” Astraea wondered.

“Kinda. Lots of things can do it. You can eat too much, or eat something that doesn’t taste good, or sometimes tummy’s just mean,” Tigershark elaborated.

“I see. Excuse me, then,” Astraea stated, looked down and smiled, then walked toward one of the restrooms.

Don’t tell me…

I followed her. It could have been nothing, but...who was I kidding? Was it ever ‘nothing’ with that child?

She left the door to the single stall restroom open and I saw her in front of the toilet’s seat, retching, and soon black bile emitted from out of her mouth. It looked unreal, and among the stream of vomit, there was blood and what looked like discarded chunks of flesh. It made me want to retch, at the very least look away, but something compelled me not to. Toward the very end, I even thought I saw small limbs, like arms and legs, and even branches off of trees billowing out. I blinked, and she was done.

“Are you OK?” I wrote down. She looked over to me and wiped her mouth.

“Sorry you saw that,” Astraea answered instead with a strained moan. She wiped her mouth, and I walked over to her, then saw that there were no such grotesque things like I had imagined. I was more baffled that for a moment, I even considered such imagery. She flushed the toilet, then walked past me and splashed some water on her face in the sink. After, she washed her hands and while ignoring what I wrote down, turned to me.

“That was most unpleasant. Yes. Why do people eat if that can happen? I do wonder,” she mused to herself, then walked past me.

For what it was worth, her face looked spotless and after that whole ordeal was done, she seemed fine. Like it was just an afterthought.

“Astraea! Are you okay?” Tigershark ran up to her as we exited the restroom.

“Yes, my friend. I must have just gone so long eating and not disposing of the food that I had too much within me.”

“Make sure you pee and poop sometimes!” Tigershark urged.

“I will take care to do so, thank you.”

Just a few hours later, the five of us gathered for a “prayer circle” – Ray, Sunny, Tigershark, Astraea, and I. None of us wanted to be there. Well, maybe Sunny did, mostly just for fun. Tigershark and Astraea did, as well, but more out of a sense of curiosity. So I guess that just left Ray and I.

“I really don’t think this is necessary,” Ray scoffed at the idea when the woman presented it.

“Aw, please, Ray, won’t you indulge me?”

“This could be fun,” Sunny added, “and if nothing else, it’ll give us both a break from all the hardship.”

Ray let out a dejected sigh.

“Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

We all sat in the circle, and by coincidence, I sat beside Astraea.

Good. There’s just too many things about her that don’t add up. Maybe while everyone is distracted in prayer, I can find out the answer for myself.

“Oh, heavenly father, thank you for this meal –” The woman began, and everyone closed their eyes. I opened them soon after, though, and scribbled down a few words on a torn scrap of paper.

“What are you, really?” I passed the paper to her. She opened her eyes and noticed it, then replied:

“I don’t know how to read. Amen.”

“Amen,” everyone else echoed soon after. If not for the group prayer ending, I would have thought that Astraea had everyone in a trance.

“Thank you-know-what that’s over,” Ray exclaimed, then got up out of his seat.

“What were you two talking about?” Tigershark turned to Astraea and I.

“She wrote something for me, but I don’t know how to read,” Astraea explained.

This is embarrassing, I couldn’t help but think to myself.

Tigershark took the scrap of paper.

“Oh, she was asking you what you are,” Tigershark explained.

“Twinkle, twinkle little star...I am a waitress,” Astraea answered.

“There you have it, Sister Cecilia,” Tigershark turned to me, then back to Astraea. “By the way, would you like me to teach you how to read?”

“Yes please. Amen.”

I shook my head. I learned nothing, save for the fact that Astraea couldn’t read. But was that even the truth, or was that just something she told me? Oh, I didn’t know what I was going on about anymore. It was useless to wonder about things which held no purpose.

When we all dispersed, I was ready to resume my duties as a hostess, but Tigershark came up to me and jumped up and down.

“Yes?” I wrote down before turning around.

“My birthday’s coming up! Well, it won’t be my actual birthday, but I’ll be celebrating it in a few days, because that’s when I celebrated it last year. Ray said that we can’t do much because of the thing outside, but he’ll still make me a cake and sing to me. Will you be there too?”

I didn’t see much of a choice in the matter. Where else would I go?

“Yes,” I jotted down my simple answer.

“Thank you! I know it’s in your name, but I want you to know that I like you like an actual sister!”

It was strange, but I found it a sweet gesture, nonetheless.

“I like you too :)” I wrote down.

While in reality, I wasn’t a fan of children by any stretch, I felt it necessary to show kindness to them above all. Especially in this context, where outside of the domain of the diner was too dangerous. I didn’t feel this was any place for a child, and I would stand by that, but since she was already there, much like Ray must have felt, I needed to make sure she felt as happy as if there were no problems outside.

“I’m so glad! I had another sister named Demetria, but she’s not here anymore. I really miss her. Her birthday is a few days after mine and I wish she were here so I could tell her happy birthday.”

That struck me somehow. I didn’t know who such a person was, but she must have been important to Tigershark in some capacity.

“I see. I’m sure she misses you too,” I wrote my reply, unsure if that was actually the truth. There was no real way to tell, as I didn’t know who she was.

“Thanks. She used to live in the room you sleep in now, back before all these people were here. I liked to tease her and prank her, but I can’t do that anymore since she’s not here.”

Ha. I couldn’t imagine anyone missing being pranked, but I could tell her feelings about her supposed sister was still genuine.

“I hope you can see her again someday,” I wrote down before going on my way.

“I hope so too! I’m sure you’d like her if you met her as well!”

Would I? I had no idea. I didn’t care for most people as it was, so I didn’t see what would have made her any more special. Still, again, it was a nice thought.

I did wonder, though. What she must have been like, what life in general must have been like before the disaster that the fog brought with it.

Days later, Tigershark’s birthday came around. The unfortunate thing was that true to her word, little was done for her. There was a cake, there was some singing. Ray gave a sweater to Tigershark that he had knitted, and Sunny gave her an old pair of boxing gloves. She was happy with both gifts.

“Sorry I don’t have anything for your birthday this year,” Astraea told Tigershark.

“That’s okay! You just being here is fine with me! Besides, you let me play your video games, and that’s fun!”

Oh yeah. I forgot about that detail. Sometimes those two, when they weren’t busy with their restaurant duties, would sit in the back of the diner out in the hallway and play on Astraea’s Nintendo Switch.

“You can play video games with me and tell me what each word says on the screen! That way I can learn to read!” Astraea presented the game and console to Tigershark one day when I just happened to be in the same vicinity as them.

“What’s this? ‘Fire Emblem: Three Houses’, it says,” Tigershark read off the cartridge.

“Is that what it says? I always just thought it was called video games,” Astraea remarked.

The two sat together and didn’t pay me any mind.

“Look! It’s Sothis!” Astraea would point out. “She’s my favorite!”

It wasn’t long until each of them were pointing to each character.

“Ray looks like an older Lindhardt!” Tigershark exclaimed.

“Yes, but where are his glasses?” Astraea pointed out.

“Catherine looks like Sunny!”

“Yes, but her skin is too light to be Sunny,” Astraea corrected.

“Shamir looks kinda like Remora!”

Someone else I didn’t know, I see. Maybe she too was once a resident of the diner.

“Shamir’s skin is too light as well.”

Does it have to be a perfect 1:1 comparison? I couldn’t help but ask myself.

“Flayn reminds me of Demetria!” Both of them cried out, and that got me to look their way.

What?

“She’s short, has green hair, and likes fish. It’s perfect!” Tigershark sounded so excited, like she reached a breakthrough.

“Yes. Flayn is the perfect Demetria.”

Such nonsense, I shook my head.

“Who would be like Sister Cecilia?” Tigershark then wondered.

“Hmm...maybe Mercedes?” Astraea pondered. “She’s blonde and likes church stuff.”

“Oh, oh! I can see that!” Tigershark beamed.

Fuck it. I’ll bite.

“May I see the characters?” I wrote down and showed them.

“I’m still not very good at reading,” Astraea tilted her head and muttered. “What does it say, Tigershark?”

“She wants to see the characters in the game! Can we show her?”

“Yes. I shall allow it,” Astraea smiled, then handed the console to me.

I scrolled through each character in the menu.

There’s one called Lady Rhea. Somehow that name stands out to me. But it says she’s the head of the church, and I never really got along well with heads of churches.

I scrolled through some more. There was one character, Bernadetta.

Heh. Bernadetta. I can relate to her vibes. I too would like nothing more than to be left alone.

At last, I stopped at one character: Marianne. She was a demure looking young woman with short, blue hair.

For some reason I feel like she resonates with me, but I don’t know why. Wait. Why am I comparing myself to someone with short, blue hair?

I shook my head. Those little observations weren’t really much. I didn’t even really know the game that well. I handed the console back to them and wrote down:

“You’re right. Mercedes fits me most.”

They both grinned, as if I told them that they won a contest. Ah, well. Best to let those two think that, anyway.

After that exchange, I left the two alone. Still, it was nice to think that even from something as simple as that, Tigershark could be happy.

On a slow period, a little over a week after Tigershark’s birthday, I found Ray at his desk in the back of the diner. It was the perfect opportunity to ask him something which had been gnawing at the back of my mind. That, and we never really got to have much of a discussion together.

I sat down at a chair beside his desk and that was when he turned to me.

“Sister Cecilia. What can I do for you?” He asked, sounding bored.

“I was wondering about who used to live in the room I’m in,” I wrote down and showed it to him.

“You mean the guy and the girl?” He asked in return, referring to the ones I shared the room with.

I shook my head.

“No. Before the fog.”

He nodded his head slow.

“I see. Why do you want to know?”

“Just curious,” I wrote, “I heard Tigershark talking about her before.”

“Ah. Yeah. It used to be Demetria’s room.”

“Can you tell me about her?”

“She was someone who came here originally because she had a crush on someone who frequented here. I liked to give her a hard time about it, but I let her stay because the whole thing amused me. Can you relate to that at all?”

“What?” I wrote in response.

“Having a crush. Have you ever had such feelings for someone?”

“Only for God.”

And even then, not that. After all, I can’t have love for something that doesn’t exist.

He leaned back, then smiled a slight smile.

“Was that some kind of joke?” He asked.

“I have to try to keep a sense of humor, even in the darkest of times. There needs to be some light, no matter how small,” I wrote down my reply.

“I see. I used to think such things as well. I seem to have lost my sense of humor ever since this fog. She got lucky, though, that Demetria. She left before everything went south. She said that she needed to figure herself out, and I respected that. I even extended the offer that she could return at any time. However, once this fog started up, I didn’t want to risk such a danger. I texted her and told her that I didn’t want to see her again, hoping she’d get the message without asking any questions.”

“Did it work?”

“I have to assume so. I just feel bad for it, like I wonder if I made the right decision. She probably has a bad impression of me now, like I don’t care, when the opposite is true, and I’ll have to live with that. What do you think, Sister Cecilia?”

“I think you made the right call,” I wrote for him. “I think it’s for the best that she’s not here, given the circumstances.”

“Thank you, Sister Cecilia. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if she was still with us.”

“I don’t know,” I had no other words to offer.

“Me either,” he shook his head, solemn at the thought.

Great, now I feel bad for asking. It’s like I touched on a sensitive subject.

Nervous, I pulled out my switchblade from my pocket and flicked it in and out. As embarrassing as it was, I had a habit of fidgeting with it when I got nervous.

“Oh? You have a knife?” He pointed down.

Crap. I wasn’t paying attention. I really wanted to hide this from others.

Desperate, I wrote down an explanation:

“Yes. The head of the clergy gave it to me, said that I needed something for self-defense.”

“Heh. It’s just that Demetria also had a thing for knives.”

Interesting. Something in common.

“Father Time gave it to me before I left the monastery.”

Funny that priests were called that. I never even knew my own father.

“Father Time, huh? That’s an interesting name for a priest, or anyone in general.”

“Yes. Time comes for us all,” I answered. Like before, I had to have some kind of sense of humor, even with a topic I never thought to bring up.

“So it does. I’m just wondering when that time will come,” he replied.

“Soon enough. You have to have hope, Ray,” I wrote down. It was a hollow gesture, as not even I had hope, or even knew what to hope for. But I wanted to comfort him in any way I could.

“Hope for what?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” I had to admit, and that was when I got up out of my seat. As always, we were at a standstill.

There was still no clear indication as to when such a hopeful time would come, or when that time would be right. In early September, two new faces showed up: One, the person named Wendy who I had heard of when I first arrived. The other was a nuisance and a sailor who called himself Captain Acab.

Wendy showed up one day and strutted in, nary an injury to be found. Before I could even direct her to a seat, she walked past me and sat at an empty booth. I was a little appalled that she wouldn’t wait, not even acknowledge me, and so having taken her seating as a slight, I walked up to her.

“The waitress will be with you shortly,” I wrote down and held up the paper.

She looked up, texting on a phone in her hands.

“She will, will she? And who might you be?” She flashed a smile. I even thought I saw a wink.

“I am Sister Cecilia, a nun who has taken on a vow of silence,” I introduced, holding up one sheet of paper that had been written on long ago.

“I see. You might make for a good conversation partner, then. Name’s Wendy Day. I’m an escort and I’m currently pretending to be the owner of this phone in my hands. I’m texting this girl’s mom and being like ‘ay, what’s up, ma?’ I’ll be honest, it’s hard pretending to be someone else, but I like to see their reactions.”

“Why would you do that?” I wrote down and asked.

“Well, she gave me her phone and asked me to do so while she sees someone named ‘Hera’. As to why I agreed...I dunno, but the next time I see her, I’ll give this to her. Say, wanna see a selfie her friend sent her? I’ll tell ya, I had no idea she’d have such a cute friend. I bet Remora would be jealous if she knew.”

Before I could reply that no, I did not want to see a picture of this stranger’s friend, Wendy held up the phone anyway. On the text screen was the face of a girl with dark hair and silky, olive skin. She was smiling in the photo and held up a peace sign.

“What do you think? Cute, huh? Not that I think so, but like I said, I bet a certain someone would get jealous.”

“I refuse to comment on someone I know nothing about,” I wrote down.

“Suit yourself. You can get the waitress now,” she shooed me off. I was just about to go when she added, “say, how are you liking it here?”

Despite my better judgment, I replied with the two words: “It’s hell.”

She snorted up a babyish laugh.

“I guess so, huh? What led you to this hell, though?”

“Rumors,” I gave my simple reply. The longer I stayed, the more I felt like I would be in an interrogation.

“Figures. Rumors can be such a nasty thing. I try not to put too much stock into them unless I have evidence. Well, I usually pull people out of here, but I think Ray wants me to stay a while longer this time. That way I can protect anyone, in case things get too bad.”

“I hope things don’t get too bad,” I wrote out my reply.

“You and me both. I also hope she gets here soon. I don’t know about you, but I’m getting pretty tired of pretending to be someone else. Plus, she promised me some action.”

Whoever she is, I would rather less people deal with this predicament, not more.

“Best of luck to your friend,” I wrote down instead. As always, I tried to be as nice as I could in my words, even if my true self was rotten to the core.

“Heh. Thanks. And best of luck in hell,” she flashed me a grin once more. At last, I felt I could move on to other places in the diner. I just didn’t know what moving on would bring…

“Ding-ding!” Went the chime of the bell above the door.

Damn it. What now? I cursed that bell and every new entry that walked in. Yet as it was my job, I rushed to the aide of whoever it was who entered.

When I got to the door and was all ready with the sign welcoming the new inhabitant in, I was met instead with a tall man (well, tall for me, anyway) with shaggy blue hair along with a long, blue beard and mustache.

Who is this? Krusty the Clown?

His face looked frozen and he shivered in place, then, he looked down and once our eyes met, I saw the bloodshot look in his and a look of either surprise or pure terror filled his face. That should have been my warning as to what came next, as he wobbled some more before collapsing over me.

I tried to hold him up as best I could, but he was just too heavy, and the angle was too awkward.

Ugh. Please. Stand up.

He didn’t even look that injured. So what was it? Exhaustion?

“Sister Cecilia, what are you doing?” Ray’s voice called out in the background.

I huffed and thanked my lucky stars it didn’t make so much of a sound.

“Hurry up and get him off of you and get him to a seat,” he scolded.

It was still too much of a struggle. Desperate, I reached for my paper and just tried to hold the man up with my own shoulders as I wrote down one word, as bold and big as I could make it. Then I held the paper up for Ray to see.

“HEAVY.” It said.

Ray took a look and scoffed.

“Of course he’s heavy, but people are going to fall from time to time. You should be used to this by now,” he continued to scold.

It’s not just that, but I’m wearing heels, which makes it very hard to move my legs much.

Ray helped the strange bearded man up. Then, when the man was back upright, and leaned against the hinges of the door to keep himself up, he spoke up.

“Heh, sorry about that. I guess you could say I ‘fell for you’,” his voice was low, but in a sort of fake and deliberate way. Also, he reminded me too much of that creepy cowboy man I remember helping out. All in all, bad vibes.

“I’m not impressed,” I wrote down.

I showed him to a seat, and one that for better or worse, wasn’t far from Wendy’s.

“Arr, thanks, miss,” he crooned like he was trying to talk like a pirate. He then pulled out a pipe from his pocket and put it in his mouth, and that was when I noticed the sailor uniform.

Maybe it’s not just an act. Either way, he could use some work in sounding more genuine, but that’s just me.

I soon pointed Astraea toward the sailor man and she strolled over to him.

“Here is a menu. Please take the time to look at it so that you may eat food. I will soon return, so be ready for me. Amen,” Astraea recited.

“Thanks, matey,” he told the waitress.

When Astraea returned, just a few minutes later, he asked her: “Say, who’s the pretty lady in the black dress?” Pointing to me. I felt sick to my stomach.

“That’s Sister Cecilia.”

“Holy hell, she’s beautiful.”

I scowled.

“Err...I mean, pardon me, being a sailor, I tend to curse like me.”

“Hey Ahab. Are you going to order or not?” I wrote down, done with his dilly-dallying.

“It’s ‘Acab’, lass. Because the ‘C’ is very important to a sailor, yes,” he took a puff of his pipe and nodded.

I’ve only known that guy once, but I swear he’s gonna give me a headache.

Some odd minutes passed and I floated around each table. Astraea returned to the sailor’s table with food in hand. By then, I had stopped paying attention to any of his antics, but somehow in the short span of time, not only had he received his food, but so did everyone else, and Tigershark was seated atop his lap.

How did this happen? I had to wonder.

“Arr, lass. How goes ye?”

“You remind me of Santa!” Tigershark exclaimed.

He bellowed out a hearty laugh.

“Aye. Ye think so?”

“Yeah! And your lap is really comfortable! Say, why do you shiver so much?”

He scratched his chin.

“When ye sail the mighty winds of the ocean, ye feel every breeze. Yea.”

“Wow. You sailed in the ocean?” Tigershark asked, amazed.

“Aye, lass. I’ve sailed every which way in search of my mortal enemy, Moby Duck, a giant duck who strikes fear into even the heartiest of men. Its call, ‘shuba shuba’ brings shivers to my spine to this day. In fact, I was close to facing off with my enemy when my ship crash landed near here.”

Giant duck? Seriously? You’re not fooling anyone.

“Wow! A giant duck!” Tigershark’s mouth hung open and was sucked into his story.

Fine. Maybe you fool one person.

I really wished that the sailor along with every troublesome guest was able to leave so I didn’t have to deal with them. With each passing nuisance, I wished the fog would dissipate, but my wish never did get granted. It really felt like all of us were stuck in a perpetual state of suffering. Tigershark and Astraea were able to keep their high spirits, but what about everyone else? Even then, how long could those children last? None of us could hold out forever, and if something didn’t change sooner or later, we might all fall to the ravages of time.

It was a quiet November. Little progress. Late in the evening, not a single soul stirred. By some miracle, we were all asleep, whether it be in the dining hall or one of the rooms. I was the only one left awake.

I took the time to let down the cloth over my mouth, open wide for a sigh of relief. I’ve spent so long, having to do everything in silence, find small windows of time to eat in private, without the watchful eyes of anyone around. Shower, use the restroom, anything. There were precious few moments of ‘alone’ that I was granted, and that moment happened to be one of them.

On the bed beside me slept the middle-aged couple: Turmeric and her longtime boyfriend, Cumin. Those two never gave me much mind, always absorbed in each other. As much as I disliked seeing their displays of affection, I was thankful for their quiet. When I first saw them, the two were in terrible shape. Now, however, they looked much healthier, even if their faces displayed sheer sorrow whenever I caught a glimpse of either of them.

“How long do I have to keep this up?” I asked myself, my voice, foreign and hoarse. It had been ages since I spoke a word, and in the dead of night, I allowed myself the simple sin.

What brought me to a startling fright, however, was the door to the bedroom, opening up. It creaked a slow discordant creak and I jumped in place before turning my head.

Astraea stood in the doorway, and even through the darkness I could see her blank stare and that snowy, shimmering hair.

“Oh, Sister Cecilia. So this is where you sleep,” she spoke up, a breezy whisper, yet both clear and direct.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, but then covered my mouth. I couldn’t believe I did such a thing.

She too looked surprised, and covered her mouth, then let go.

“Ah, so you do have a mouth.” She crept in, and closed the door behind her, then tilted her head and a slight smile spread across her face.

“Don’t worry, Sister Cecilia. Your secret is safe with me,” she assured me, but I did not feel the least bit reassured. I scrambled for my paper and pen and in haste, wrote down:

“Well I know you’re not human.”

She dropped to her knees and leaned in close, closer than I would have expected. Her eyes widened and it was like I was staring at a bug through a microscope.

“I’ve gotten better at reading,” she informed me. “And yes, I am human. I may not act it sometimes, but I don’t have to act like a human to be one. Just like you don’t always have to act like a nun to be a nun.”

She then stood back up and headed for the door. Before she left, she craned her neck back and turned to me.

“Goodnight, Sister Cecilia.”

Trembling, I waved back to her, and my heart would not cease to pound against my chest.

What the hell was that all about?

I couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night as I just wondered: Why? Why did she enter that night, and why did I feel so uneasy? More questions than answers floated around my mind and once again, I just had little else I could do but hope, hope that things would change soon.

[dallas-owns-my-ass]

Bad For My Rep.

     Paring: Dallas Winston x Singer! Reader

     Summary: Reader gets forced to sing in a choir as a form of community service.

     Warnings: idk cursing, smoking, vandalizing, prison?

     Tag List: @staygoldponebone​ @botanicaldarling​ @rosecoloureddudez​ @shepards-love​

If you wanted to be added just let me know :)

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     I shook the spray paint can again and held down the button, watching the black line grow in the direction that I moved my hand. I loved everything about spray paint. The sound it makes when you spray or shake it. The variety of colors. The whole style of street art in general.  It was something we had to ourselves, us kids in the street. I finished it off, taking a step back and just looking at it. West Side motherfuckaaa. I thought to myself as I chuckled. 

     “How you gonna like laughing about that in prison?” 

     I whipped my head around to see a cop. A very unamused cop. Fuck. I scanned my surroundings, debating running or not. His car blocked one of the exits and his partner’s in the other. My chances were slim to nonexistent, so being logical for once, I decided to hold my ground. Better to go out like a man right? 

     “You know vandalizing’s a crime? No you probably didn’t. What would some wasted thug know about anything?” he laughed, finding himself amusing. I smirked as I responded.

     “If that’s what you think”

     “C’mon we’re taking your ass right back to jail, and you can explain to a judge why you were out at 3 am spraying gang signs on a public structure.” He pushed me against the wall, handcuffing me. Damn. I really was about to go back to jail. I just got out too. Dally’s gonna kill me. 

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     I was not looking forward to that phone call. But I had to do it if I wanted a chance of getting out of here. I reluctantly picked up the phone and dialed his number. After a couple of seconds, he picked up.

     “Hello?” his voice was deep and raspy. He probably just woke up. 

     “Hey baby”

     “Y/N? What’s wrong?”     

    “Man, something doesn’t always have to be wrong for me to call my boyfriend”

    “Doll, it’s three in the morning... What happened?”

    “Y’know, it’s not really a big deal or anything but.... I may or may not have got arrested again. And I kinda need you to come down here and see if you can bail me out or something.” He let out a long sigh.

    “Babe, how many times have I told you to be more careful?” He was angry. Not that I blamed him though. I would be angry too. I did get angry when he got arrested for some stupid shit. It was my own fault for being careless. 

    “Were you drinking again? Uhh Y/N, how could you be so careless? Do you know what could’ve happened to you if you happened to stumble across the wrong kinda guy? Do you know what happens to pretty, intoxicated, young girls at night on the streets Y/N!” 

     “Yes...” I responded my voice trailing off sheepishly. I hoped it wasn’t evident in my tone that I was hurt. I hated when he yelled at me. And I hated that he was always right. He let out a long sigh.

     “Of course you do. I’m sorry for yellin’ at you doll. It’s just that I can’t help worrying for you. You’re all I got. Besides, if anyone dared to mess with you, you’d kick their ass. You’re one tough broad.” I could feel the smirk on his face as he said that. “I’ll be down at the station in a couple of minutes baby.” He said as he hung up.

     He groaned as he approached the cell where I was being held. That couldn’t be good. 

     “Babe, they said there ain’t no bail this time” Shit. I was either going to jail for a couple more months or getting a shitload of community service hours. Hopefully the latter. 

     “Eeh, don’t worry about it Dal”

     “I’ll just get a few months, that’s all.”

     “Yeah but those months gonna feel like forever without you there.”

     “I’ll be out before you know it. You should go get some sleep baby, it’s late. Or should I say early now?” I leaned in to kiss him through the cell bars. We only got a quick peck before the police officer yelled at us. 

     “Fuck him.” Dally mumbled before leaning in again. The officer basically dragged him out of there after that. I smiled. Classic Dally. 

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     There I was, sitting in my defendant chair, at my trial. Fun times. Dally, Johnny, and Sodapop came. Dally, because he had to, Johnny because he’s my best friend, and Sodapop simply because he had nothing better to do. 

     “Due to past offenses and lack of change in behavior from past prison sentences, I sentence Ms Y/L/N to 45 hours of community service, which can be completed in the span of 35 days at the local church.” 

     “With umm, all due respect your honor, can I just go to jail instead. Y’know sweeping floors and shit just ain’t really my thing.” I looked at Dally. He was smirking, trying to suppress a laugh or something. I sent a nasty glare his way.

     “That type of profanity will not be tolerated in this courtroom Ms. Y/L/N, don’t make me tell you again. And I believe there is a choir that is in need of young members.” 

     “A choir?” I questioned, unimpressed. “You want me to go sing to God for spray painting some bridge? That just messed up man” Soda started laughing, apparently finding this whole situation amusing. “I ain’t takin’ yall to my court shit no more”

     I walked out of the courtroom, Dally trailing along behind me. To say I was pissed was an understatement. How was she gonna make me go sing at some church and say that it’s community service. I mean, yeah I had a good voice, but you just don’t go walking around singing here, it was a quick way to get your ass kicked. Besides, I was supposed to be some hardened criminal or something. You ever see some hardened criminal dancing around on some stage. No. And you can bet your ass you won’t. That’s just how things work around here, and some people aren’t ever going to understand that.

     “C’mon babe, it’s not that bad” he grabbed my arm, pulling me close to him. “I mean at least you’re not locked up somewhere, ‘cause we can still do stuff you know?” he winked. Of course that’s what he thought of, but I couldn’t help but smile. Dallas just had that effect on people. He could make ‘em laugh if he knew them real well. I leaned in for a kiss.

     “Yeah I guess it ain’t so bad.”

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     “I gotta wear this?” I almost yelled, holding up the choir robe. 

     “Why yes dear, it’s mandatory for all performances. Lucky for you, this is only a practice.” the nun replied. I was going to have to change that.

     The nun lead me into the music room. The room got silent the moment I entered. They all recognized me, either from the paper, news, or they saw me in the midst of doing something illegal. This would be the last place they all expected me to show up. But here I was. They soon all resumed what they were doing, going back to their chatter and practicing riffs and other stuff among those activities. A young woman approached me. She was a little taller than me, skinny with straight red hair and thick glasses. She looked familiar somehow.

     “Bass, alto, or soprano?” she asked. “I don’t sing.” 

     “Alto.” she stated. She clapped her hands twice. All the students looked up, and got into their places without even mumbling another word. These guys must be strict. Here’s the little problem with that. I don’t follow rules very well. I never have, and I’ll never care to learn. She dragged me over and placed me in the middle section, in the front. Great, I thought. Now she’s gonna be watching every little thing I do. She sang out “la la la la la la la” and everyone else repeated it back to her. Yeah I wasn’t really feeling that so I didn’t. She repeated the exercise for the third time, and after seeing me not doing it, she pointed at me and called me to the front, right next to her. Here we go again. “la la la la la la la”. I once again ignored her attempt to make me sing. I wasn’t going to do it. Sorry man, it’s bad for my rep. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t want to sing, I loved to. It’s just that I didn’t want to sing in front of a group of people just for them to laugh at me. She closed her hand, silencing everyone else.

     “La la la la la la” I just stared at her and shook my head nonchalantly. She was persistent for she repeated it again. Realizing she wasn’t going to stop until I did, I sung it back quietly and purposely off-key. She shook her head and did it again. This time I sung it right, but still quietly. She nodded her head and smiled, as she made the rest of the choir resume. We continued this and practiced some other classic gospel songs for the rest of the time. 4:30, finally. I went to leave, following all the other students out, but her voice rang out.

     “Y/L/N, stay after.” Great. Just what I needed. 

     “Why weren’t you singing?”

     “I was” I corrected.

     “Doing the bare minimum required is not singing. I know that the only reason you are here is to fulfill your service hours and then go back to being a menace to society after but, while you are here you will not be a burden to my choir. And yes you may have been mumbling the words to the songs incorrectly, but unless you are adding something to the group, you are a burden. So you may want to consider contributing something to this group. Is that understood?”

     “Yeah I guess. I just don’t know what you think I can ‘contribute to this group’. I ain’t got no talent or nothing. All’s I got is drugs and street smarts man.”

     “As I heard before, you have a nice voice, which can be contributed by singing the lead to out next song, don’t you think?” 

     “No I don’t think so. If you think I’m gonna get up and sing by myself in front of God knows who, you’re crazy.”

     “Whether you like it or not, you’re going to have to sing while you’re here, so you might as well try.” she urged, grabbing sheet music and handing it to me. She sat down at the piano. “I’m assuming you’re familiar with ‘Oh Happy Day’?” I nodded in response. “So sing it” she said as she started playing the rhythm on the piano. 

     “Oh happy day” I almost mumbled. She stopped playing.

     “Sing out, nobody’s here to judge you” she started playing from the beginning again. 

     ‘Oh happy day.” I repeated, this time a little louder and clearer. “C’mon you aint gonna scare no one.”

     “Oh happy day” I sung out loudly, my voice vibrating off the walls of the tiny room. “Now you got it.”

----------------------------------------

     I was sitting on the couch, my head on Dally’s shoulder, watching Mickey Mouse with the bois. 

     “So, Y/N, you gonna be singin’ in the choir this Sunday huh?” Soda asked, even though he already knew the answer. “Mhmm” I responded curtly, not wanting anyone else in the gang to know about it.  

     “Blimey Y/L/N, I didn’t know you were in a choir.” Two-Bit explained. “You should’ve told us Y/N, we would’ve came if it meant so much to you.”

     “Lay off it Two-Bit, it’s for community service.” I said, rolling my eyes, lighting a cigarette. That was the last thing I wanted, for all of them to show up to see me mumbling words, wearing some cloak, looking like a complete idiot. 

     “Geez Y/N, it’s not like I asked for your first born child. What’s got you so mad anyways?” he asked as if it wasn’t obvious. What part of forced to sing in a choir wasn’t he getting. I threw the pillow next to me at him lightly. Dally chuckled. 

     “Don’t get so worked up about it doll” he provoked, smirking. “Shut up Dal... What’s everyone gonna think when they see me up there, in some crusty robe. I’m supposed to be tough or something, and singing doesn’t really help with that much”

     “Oh c’mon babe, you’re doing community service hours because you’ve been to jail too many times or something like that. Everyone in there’s already scared of you.” I had to at least let a tiny smirk on my face. He was right. He always was.  “I know” he said smugly. 

     “Huh?” I questioned. “You said all that out loud doll.” Oops. “Fuck you.” I said, sticking my tongue out. 

---------------------------------------

     It was the big day. Fun right? Yeah no. The room was almost full with people and we were about to go on. I didn’t even know people still went to church. Nope. There was no way I was doing this. There were way too many people for my liking. I would just go back to court, and take whatever excessive penalty they gave me. I may go to jail, but at least I’d have my dignity. I was just about to walk out when the teacher came up to me. 

     “You’re really about to leave right now?” she raised her eyebrow. I nodded sarcastically in response. “So all that hard work, all that time and effort, not only put in by you, but by the rest of the choir, you’re just going to throw it away? If you leave right now, not only are you screwing yourself over, but the rest of the choir, and the people who were expecting us to sing today.”

     “You can find someone better to sing my part.” I remarked.

     “Oh, so you’re scared? You’re scared they’re not going to like your voice. You’re scared you’re going to ruin your reputation. You’re scared to show them that you’re exceptionally talented. Now let me tell you something. I don’t care who’s out there today. I don’t care who’s watching or judging us. You’re going to go out there, and you’re going to sing, no matter what. Because I’m not going to let you screw over this whole choir, and more importantly, I’m not going to let you screw up your chance to have a perfectly good opportunity to do something that you may love. So today, you’re going to get up on that stage and you’re going to sing for whoever the hell may be listening. And you’re going to do it well. You owe it to us. After that I don’t give a crap what you do. You can leave and go to jail time instead. Just not today.” she demanded, leading us all out onto the stage. 

     I took my usual spot in the back, but she pulled me to the front. She gave us a 4 beat count off and the piano started. I scanned the audience. Right in the front row was the gang. Shit. I panicked. They couldn’t know about this. I was already nervous to begin with. There was no more time to worry. The teacher pointed at me, cuing me to start. I sang the lyrics quietly, and not that well. I finished the first verse.

     “You’re going to have to do a lot better than that.” She said. “Come here.” she pointed next to her in the very front. Feeling quite embarrassed I took my hands and shoved them in my pockets, staring at the floor. “You take your cues from me.”

     “la la la la la la la.” We repeated it back to her. She pointed at me. “You.”

     “la la la la la la la.” I repeated the tune. “Sing it”

     “Oh happy day.” I sung, this time loud and clearly. You could feel the tone in the room shift. “Oh happy day” people looked up in shock, maybe because I was singing it, or maybe because we sounded really good. “When Jesus washed. When Jesus washed. When, my Jesus washed, he washed my sins away.” I threw a couple riffs in there to make it fancy. 

     “la la la la la la la.” we sung this warm up again a few times. “Let’s party.” the teacher said. “He taught me how” we sang in harmony, as we clapped on the second and fourth beat. “Oh he taught me how” I walked toward the front of the stage even more, the simple rhythm moving me. “To wash, to wash” I repeated from the background melody. “And live rejoicing. Yes he did. Oh yeah. Every, everyday.” I continued. The melody went down a key. “Oh, oh, happy day. Oh happy day yeah. When Jesus washed. When my Jesus washed. When Jesus washed.” I went into my falsetto. I finally gained the courage to look over at the gang. Soda’s jaw dropped, and Dally just sat there with a look in his eyes that I just couldn’t place, but they all definitely looked surprised. The crowd even started clapping, midst performance. I couldn’t help but smile. “My sins away. Oh you know I’m talkin’ bout happy days. Oh yeah. Sing it. Sing it. Sing it. Yeah. C’mon. Oh happy day.” We all finished, arms up in the shape of a v. The crowd erupted in applause, standing up too. Wow. I never expected such a positive reaction. We all took our bows and headed off back stage. 

     I changed back into my greaser attire, and headed out in search of the gang. I found them quick, easily spotting Darry. The second I reached them they all swarmed on top of me. Steve pulled me under his arm, pretending to hit me on the head with his fist. 

     “Damn, Y/N, you never told us you could sing like that” Darry marveled. “Any other things you’ve been keeping from us, like a secret son or somethin’” Two-Bit joked. They all continued like this for a while, until Dally interrupted. 

     “Alright, alright. Damn I can’t even talk to my own girl with all you bums around.” but even he couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah c’mon guys, let Y/N go talk to her boyfriendddd.” Soda started. “ooooooooh” they all joined in. “Oh shut up.” I said playfully, shooing them off with my hand. Dally walked me out to his car, his arm slung over my shoulder. He opened and closed my car door and then went around to get in. 

     “Look man, you know I’m not good at this type of shit but, Goddamn Y/N. You never told me you had a voice like that. Man I ain’t exaggerating when I say that you have the most beautiful voice I ever heard. Shit, I never knew my babygirl was so talented.” he took his eyes off the road to give me a quick kiss. I was smiling so much by then. The car swerved, almost hitting a tree. 

     “Dally!” I almost screamed while laughing. “What baby, it’s only a tree.” he was laughing too.  

     “I guess community service ain’t so bad after all.”

More Like This

[teamhook]

A Chapter a Day... Savage Heart CS AU

Hello my lovelies! First, sorry about the double post yesterday. Had some issues with Tumblr. Sorry, I’m running late today.

Yes, a chapter a day.

This story will be finished by the end of the month. :)

A love story between a pirate and his savior. An innocent, beautiful, selfless woman meets a man with no manners, no formal education and not even a last name. Will Emma fall in love with Killian once she discovers that beneath his tough exterior lies a heart-wild, but a heart of gold? This is a Captain Swan AU

Beta-ed by the wonderful @ilovemesomekillianjones​

|AO3| |FFN| previous chapter

|AO3| |FFN| current chapter

Chapter 7: First Meetings and Secret Meetings

Milah wakes early and gets dressed before August wakes and has a chance to question her. She is so excited to see Killian. She smiles to herself and doesn't realize she is not alone until it is too late.

"Where are you heading so early cousin?" Emma asks.

Milah turns to look at her cousin and answers with a taunting comment, "Oh Emma, I didn't realize you were still here. I assumed that you had already returned to the safety of the convent." Milah continues, "I thought you were only checking in on Aunt Snow and would have left as soon as possible. I just assumed that spending too much time here would be somewhat uncomfortable for you. I'm only looking out for your wellbeing."

"I'm doing just great, you don't have to worry about me. I'm just not used to seeing you awake so early. You, dear cousin, have never been an early riser." Emma smiles as she answers and tilts her head to the side as she observes Milah. She can tell she is nervous. Why is she so nervous?

"I was just heading out; I wanted to go check on the house to make sure everything is running smoothly since Aunt Snow is currently staying here." Milah tries to sound convincing and fails miserably even to her own ears.

Emma smiles sweetly. "I see. To answer one of your questions, you are correct. That was the original plan, a quick visit. Unfortunately, your mother-in-law Cora insisted I stayed longer to help lighten my mother's spirits because she is worried about her, and how can I refuse such an invitation?" Emma takes a breath and adds, "I apologize, dear cousin if that is not an acceptable situation for you. I don't know why you would think I would feel uncomfortable?"

"I thought you wouldn't want to be here seeing as you were trained by my mother-in-law to be the perfect wife for her son. Isn't it extremely hot wearing that awful nun's habit? I suppose you have to get used to it. I better go, I don't want to be gone that long. Could you please let August know? I did not want to wake him, he looked so peaceful in his sleep."

Emma nods and waits for Milah to leave the room, then rises quickly to follow Milah. She doesn't want to lose her. Soon they reach the beach and what appears to be a little cabin. Emma wonders what business her cousin has at this place.

She had made sure to keep a good distance while she followed Milah. She looks around to make sure no one had noticed her as she approaches the slightly open window and strains her ears to listen to the conversation inside.

Milah walks into Killian's cabin as if she owns the place. Killian just stares at her, she looks beautiful. He had sent Smee away earlier to do some errands and arrange a meeting with Archie. He also wanted to ensure some privacy if Milah was to make an appearance.

"Killian I have missed you so much; I truly thought I would never see you again..." Milah begins.

"Oh love; I can see how broken-hearted you were about my absence. To prove your devotion the first thing you do is marry the bloke with the biggest wallet that offers to make you his wife?" Killian yells at her. "You promised yourself in marriage to me and you broke your promise and for that, you will pay, I will tell your husband how many times I had you in my bed and how each time you begged for more."

Milah looks at him with wide eyes trying to think of a way to calm him.

"I married him to save my family Killian, I had already lost all hope of happiness with you and that is the only reason I accepted the proposal. You have to know what marrying into his family could mean to anyone. The advantages it offers. So when my frigid cousin lost the opportunity and I was offered the chance I had to take it." Milah hates the way he is looking at her.

Killian had always looked at her with such love and admiration. She was used to being second choice. She knew her aunt and uncle loved her, but Emma would always come first. Killian was hers alone and she didn't have to share him.

"How exactly did the opportunity present itself? And before you answer, I know how that mind of yours works and what it holds value to. Make sure you are telling the truth."

"I bumped into August during my stay in Port Royal before I met you and he took a liking to me right away. I knew who he was and to be honest I didn't care. I hold no true loyalty to my cousin. I thought if he chose me I would be getting the life I deserve, and at the same time, I could take something my cousin loved. It would have been a double win for me. If you knew my cousin you would understand. The poor thing wouldn't know what to do to captivate and maintain any man's attention even if her life depended on it. To be honest, I didn't have to do much. I just wanted something that was meant to be hers because she has had it all. I had no idea I had been successful until after you left for your deal."

"Oh, lass do not even try to lie. I know you well enough to know you must have worked extra hard to charm him into picking you. You, my dear, do not like to leave anything to chance. After all, you came looking for me."

Emma stands dumbfounded listening to the conversation that starts to fade as her worst fears are confirmed. She had noticed that some of Milah's comments seemed to show she enjoyed flaunting her marriage in Emma's face. She likes hurting her. Milah had set out to get August's attention. Not only that but she seems to have had some sort of dalliance with the man she was meeting secretly.

It hurts so much, she had loved Milah like a sister and now she is finding out how little Milah cared for her in return. The resentment her cousin felt for her was so great. Tears start to fall. Emma refocuses on the conversation inside, sniffling quietly

"Killian we can make this work. For a while, we would need to meet in secret and see each other whenever it is possible and enjoy our time together thoroughly. We can enjoy our time together while my dear husband regales me with jewelry and riches and one day soon, we take it all and escape." Milah approaches him and reaches out to touch him.

Killian ponders her offer. His first thought had been to steal her away, but that is too simple for the offense. Then he'd just wanted to make August pay with his life for taking his love away. But now he wants to humiliate him, he has taken what was Killian's. He wants for the great August Booth to be ridiculed. He smiles at Milah and answers. "I accept your offer, but know this, if you try to double-cross me in any way, I will make you pay dearly. You'd better leave now, I have an important meeting to attend."

"Oh, I thought we might have time for a little reconnecting."

"I'm afraid this meeting is something I cannot postpone," Killian said.

"When will I see you then? You are not going to meet with another woman are you?" Milah asks angrily.

"Jealous, love?" Killian asks with a smirk. "To answer your question, I'm meeting with an old friend. Now go!"

Milah storms out of the small cabin to make her way home.

Emma stays hidden contemplating what to do with this newfound information. Suddenly someone grabs her. She turns to look at the culprit. He towers over her, dark hair and a nicely trimmed beard. He's dressed in all black, but what captivates her are his brilliant blue eyes.

Killian had seen a flash of blonde hair and at first, he'd thought was that it was Tink. He wanted to make sure she had not listened in to his conversation with Milah. He studies the woman in front of him carefully. She is beautiful and wearing a nun's habit. He realizes who she must be... Milah's cousin, Emma. He is about to question her when she beats him to it.

"How is it you know my cousin?"

Killian answers, "Oh lass, I know your cousin," Killian pauses, licks his lips and takes a step closer, invading her space, he leans over as he finishes his answer, "intimately."

Emma takes a step back. "Why would my cousin want anything to do with a dirty, filthy pirate like you?" She stands her ground and waits for an answer.

Killian laughs and responds. "Oh darling, I assure you I bathe quite frequently, but if you would like to ensure my cleanliness, I would gladly oblige." Killian winks at her and smirks. He can tell she is uncomfortable with the conversation.

"How dare you speak to me in that manner? You are disgusting!" Emma says and continues, "How long have you known my cousin?"

"That is not your concern. I am curious, what did you overhear? Even for a lowlife like me, eavesdropping is not good form."

"I don't owe you an explanation, but since I was raised with manners I will, I was simply walking by and saw my cousin leaving your home. I too was curious. If I had heard any part of your conversation, I would not be asking you, would I?"

"Oh darling, you are feisty, not at all like your cousin described you. She truly did not do you justice. I have never seen a more beautiful nun in my life. Even with that dreadful habit you are wearing, you are simply alluring." Killian wants to distract her and continues to rake his eyes over her form.

Emma just looks at him and says firmly, "Stay away from my family. I don't care what you think you shared with my cousin in the past. She is married now, so for once in your life try doing something honorable."

Emma walks past him and does not look back.

Killian watches her walk away. Too bad he's not an honorable man, he is nothing but a selfish pirate.

He needs to tell Milah that her cousin knows about their dalliance and most likely has an idea about the plans they wish to set into motion. He had been surprised by the way Emma talked to him. Milah had described a pushover. He'd assumed she was someone who he could easily intimidate into submission. When she didn't back down during their conversation, he knew he was terribly wrong. They were going to need to be more careful in the future. The good news is that she couldn't really cause trouble if she was hidden away at the convent.

Now all he needs is Archie to reintroduce him to August and he will have direct access to Milah. He knows his reputation could possibly be a problem, but he will use their friendship, albeit brief, as an opening to get close to him and secure the steward position that has been vacant for a while.

@hookedonapirate​ @kmomof4​ @searchingwardrobes​ @seriouslyhooked​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @let-it-raines​ @revanmeetra87​ @snowbellewells​ @hollyethecurious​ @kymbersmith-90​ @branlovestowrite​ @thejollyroger-writer​ @shireness-says​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​  @thisonesatellite​ @thesschesthair​ @winterbythesea​ @stahlop​ @resident-of-storybrooke​  @superchocovian​  @lfh1226-linda​ @artistic-writer​ @thislassishooked​ @shardminds​ @winterbaby89​ @xhookswenchx​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @gingerchangeling​ @laschatzi​ @wellhellotragic​ @xemmaloveskillianx​ @courtorderedcake​ @pirateherokillian​ @optomisticgirl​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @sherlockianwhovian​ @andiirivera​ @djlbg​ @nikkiemms​ @jennjenn615​ @scientificapricot​ @officerrogers​​ @imlaxdris71​​ @therealstartraveller776​​

[bunny95]

A love letter to valak.

Walking into the movie I had high hopes since The Conjuring 2 was great installment of the first one and overall the best one of the conjuring franchise and... valak😍 it was love at first sight.

The Nun opens with one of the best opening sequences of the past decade, two nuns running from a mysterious presence one of them gets dragged in a dark room while the other one commits suicide by hanging herself from the window of the abbey now that's dope scene and.... from there on the entire narrative morphed into a pile of fecal matter, with little to no investment in character development, over emphasis on valak for money shots that were filled with bad cgi, cheap jump scares that one can in 2018 easily predict as soon as the sound drains out or sudden movements from characters, unnecessary one liner jokes during the finale (some one should beat the Disney out of the director and the supporting staff before they proceed to make a horror movie) and in the end valak makes frenchie (Jonas Bloquet)swallow a snake because we have to connect it to The Conjuring 2 😒... fuck. After the movie ended akash aka sky asked me kaisi thi I was like ya it was ok...... but my inner grammatically challenged vegan LA female protester🙍‍♀️ went:- Oh my god are u like 4 realll, are u like kidding me,wtf.. like literally happened like wtf this is like literally offensive on like a lot of way like literally....... 🦗🦗

Drunk texas cowboy:- BEAT IT BOY quit bitching around yapping around like the rest of em, you ain't no different boy you got none but none constructive to say do ya...

🤓well Mr.Sir man let me construct...

The movie is set in the year 1952 in romania which is not very long from the time when the second world war ended that is in 1945 and most of the European countries are recovering from it, almost everyone was hit hard because of the war, people lost their loved ones, their families and are will to do anything to get there lives back on track, moving back to the narrative sister irene (taissa farmiga) is one of those people, this movie should have kept its main focus on her and play around that idea of demon nun also valak should be just a demon presence in the abbey not a demonic nun, there should be a proper transition to it because as far as the facts go regarding the real Lorraine Warren, she saw a black long shadow in front of her in one of her visions and James Wan (director of conjuring 2) came up with the idea of valak the demonic nun so moving forward, irene is young and in those days young girls were encouraged or sometimes forced to join the church and become a nun, and here she looks pretty comfortable with being a nun since she is playing JURRASIC PARK with kids in school but from there on when she is asked to tag along with father burke on a case regarding the investigation of the suicide and also to ensure the integrity of the abbey she seems a bit hesitant because she hasn't even taken her final vows. Also they must have casted bonnie aaron(who plays valak) as one of the superior nun in the abbey who would act as one of the main character of the movie and as the movie progresses there should have been a demonic possession of one of the nuns in the abbey and father burke must lose here leading to a failed exorcism (now don't give this sequence more than 5mins because now there is so much originality one can provide to an exorcism scene since the best one was done in 1973 the exorcist😍) now this would break the moral of father and would completely shatter the faith of irene (taissa farmiga) this is the moment when shit starts getting real for her she would start questioning herself, her faith and is she really fit to become a nun, then from there she starts having conversations with Bonnie Aaron's regarding faith what's real evil and other matters.Bonnie's characters should be warm and welcoming and not a stuck up this would ease irene a bit but later on as the conversation keeps moving and starts getting personal it should getting ugly as at that moment bonnie is taken over by valak and valak is speaking through her this would be a good scare and would completely break irene of whatever is left of it, this would pave way for some good built up original sacres like the ones in conjuring 2, also I would keep the sequence when irene is tilted infront of the sack covered nuns that was a good sequence and then she should run towards the compound of the abbey (that compound should be the place where valak was first summoned not that underground room, you are shooting a movie in Romania for fucks sake exploit the surroundings) for the finale it should be a complete slaughter house she should receive complete stigmata from possessed bonnie who would talk to irene while she is tortured brutally and would quickly turn her upside down like a cross and she should collapse right there and then, and that is the time she should have a vision which would restore her faith and then she fights back bonnie of course dies but that's how bonnie becomes the demonic nun or valak gets fully transformed into a demonic nun. Now all this makes sense to me.

Vegan LA protestor:- that's all good but like what about this being a prequel to the conjuring like how would like that happen like....

OK fuck let valak make frenchie swallow a snake😒

Fucking snakes hate them.

[mo-mo-and-porkchop]

Umbrella academy fiction

Chapter 1

Canon and OC; Deigo x OC, Klaus x OC platonic

*as always I do not own any part of the canon characters or show. I am merely writing my own adaptation to the storyline. Nor do I own any gifs/gif credit.

**I do own all things related to the OCs and additional story elements. And apologies, I couldn't find any "young" gifs of them, but they are all meant to be young adults to show age in this fic.

Tagging: @imcrowley , @wicked-bitch-of-the-west

On a typical sunny day in 1989 a girl was born under extraordinary circumstances - her mother beginning the day not pregnant and ending it with a newborn girl. Reginald Hargreaves was unable to purchase their gift from God, but as fate would have she would still become linked to the obsessive billionaire through Klaus, his disappointing Number Four.

One fateful night in her bar thrust the two into each other's life and they soon became close friends, their tragic pasts a common denominator. Emily tried to aid her friend and his family in thwarting the apocalypse, but her life ultimately lost when the shit inevitably hit the fan.

This is not that story.

Our story takes place five years after the Hargreaves family jumped back in time after unsuccessfully saving the world; bringing with them all the knowledge gained from their first chance at life.

-----

"I'm telling you Diego. We can do this," Klaus said pleadingly to his brother. "She said if she had only gotten out a few years earlier, she would have had a better chance at life. We can give her that chance."

Diego stopped just outside his room. He eyed Klaus as he begged for him to agree.

"Please Diego. She is...was my friend," he corrected himself. This time travel thing was hard to get used to. "I owe it to her to at least try."

It was true that Emily had been as good a friend as someone could to Klaus back then. He'd beena raging drug addict who brought nothing but chaos. There weren't many people who could handle something like that. She'd been one of the few; even managing to get him into rehab a few times.

Not that it had mattered. Klaus had a standing bed there back then and the staff a running pool on how short his next break would last.

But it had been obvious she at least cared for him. And that was more than Diego could say for himself. Klaus was his brother and he had given two shits at the time if he lived or died.

"Fine," he finally agreed.

"Yes!" Klaus said quietly, but triumphantly.

With his second time around, he wanted to get it right. Make amends for his previous infractions.

Starting with this.

"But we do this my way. You got it," he said definitively, getting close enough to stop Klaus' little victory dance. He wanted to make sure his brother understood just how serious he was.

"Got it," Klaus said with a mock salute. "If I remember correctly, right around now would be the 'Halloween lockdowns' as Em liked to call it," Klaus said with a small smirk Diego's way.

His brother looked at him confused "Lockdowns? Where is she? A prison?"

Oh, that's right. He doesn't know.

It had taken Klaus awhile to pull what nuggets she had revealed of her past. He knew, without a doubt, Diego hadn't gotten shit out of her. The few times they'd met his brother was partial to being an asshole to anyone who even remotely took Klaus' side and she had been no different.

"She's at a religious boarding school," Klaus explained quickly. "A real scared straight kinda one. From what she told me though, the night before Halloween the nuns do one final sweep of the grounds, leaving the front door unlocked."

"Pfft. Morons," Diego huffed, the fact that he was speaking of godly women lost to him completely. "So it's a dash and grab. Easy."

"Yeeaa...about that," Klaus began tentatively. Diego had only just agreed to spring Emily from Hell.

"What?" Diego asked lowly. He knew he shouldn't have gotten his hope up so easily. Nothing was ever so cut and dry with Klaus.

"She's also, sort of, kinda in her own lockdown. We may need Five to help us too," he added reluctantly. "Which is fine," he quickly continued, keeping Diego from immediately changing his mind. "Ever since we got back Five has really been a team player. I'm sure if our little heist idea came from you he'd be on board. A hundred percent."

Diego couldn't take this shit with Klaus a second go 'round. He wanted to break Emily out of school? Fine. He needed Diego's help? Also, peachy fuckinf keen. But if he insisted on keeping secrets along the way then Diego would walk his happy ass on out the door and Klaus could go fuck himself.

He grabbed hold of his brother, who flinched more from shock than fear, and drug him into his room, away from listening ears. He tossed his brother onto his bed as gently as he could. Klaus watched as he pulled his desk chair over, sitting on it backward and leaning against it.

"Before I ask Five anything you are gonna spill your guts and give me all the Intel you have on Emily. Otherwise, I'm out and you're on your own."

Klaus groaned with Diego's ultimatum. "Fine," he grumbled. "I'll tell you everything. But you have to swear you'll get Five to help no matter what," he countered holding up his pinky.

"What are you, six?"

"Nothing is more binding than a pinky swear," Klaus said, wiggling his fingers enticingly.

"You never quit do you?"

"Nope," Klaus said with a satisfied grin.

"Jesus Christ." Diego sighed with a roll of his eyes, but nevertheless he linked pinkies with his brother.

"No matter what," Klaus reiterated.

"No matter what," Diego reluctantly agreed before immediately letting go of him.

"Good," Klaus said clapping his hands together and rubbing them conspiratorially. "Now. What do I know about Emily?" he asked himself, feigning an attempt to really dig deep into his thoughts. "Em, Em, Em."

"I'm losing my patience Klaus."

"Alright, fine," Klaus said with an exasperated sigh. Nothing much had changed with Diego this time around - he was still far too serious for his own good. "I know she was one of the few dad couldn't buy, obviously. I deduced that one myself," he admitted proudly.

Diego rolled his eyes and sighed. Even without drugs Klaus' mind still ran a million miles a minute. "Focus," he said keeping his brother on track.

"Right," he replied forcing himself back to their present storytelling session. "She was unbuyable. Her parents were religious and pure," he said mockingly, throwing up the the scouting sign of three fingers. "When Em didn't fit it to their perfect life, they shipped her off and forgot about her. To St. Christopher's School for the Misguided to be exact."

"You mean that old school convent on the outskirts of the city?"

"That's the one," Klaus said in agreement. "She's been there..." he checked his wrist as if a watch sat upon it. "Twelve years now," he added looking back to Diego.

"Twelve years?! What the Hell Klaus?? I thought she was just sent there."

"Yea. When she was six," Klaus said with a snort. "That was after all the exercisims failed," he added nonchalantly.

"Exorcisms!?" Diego was beginning to regret his decision to help. "Look. I don't know what kind of "school" you're taking me to, but how do we know Emily even wants to break out?" he asked in a half-hearted attempt to back out.

"Because she makes it out on her own after another three years anyway. But she always said if she'd got out just a few years earlier she'd have gone farther in life. Between you and me, I thought she turned out just fine the way she was," he added leaning in conspiratorially.

"I don't know about that. She was friends with you."

"Hey! Unfair!" Klaus said feigning offense. "Trust me," he continued, shrugging off the insult. "Once Five is on board, everything will be fine," he said reassuringly, but with little affect. "Then it really will be a dash and grab. Five will just do his little time warp thingie and..." He sucked air through his teeth and gestured for in-and-out. "We'll have Em out and free as a bird in no time," he added with a sigh and a smile.

Diego stared at him, only reacting when his wide grin faded. His mind had already been made up, but it was sti fun to see him sweat. He promptly grabbed him up and pulled toward the hallway - and all the way to Five's room.

------

"Klaus has something he wants to ask you," he said pushing past their brother when he answered the door.

"And what might that be?" he asked, confusion evident on his face as he shut the door behind them.

Once through the threshold doego released his grip on Klaus and took solace off in the corner, waiting to see how well he did with Five. Their brother would be a much tougher sell. He'd never even met Emily.

"Well," Klaus began with a nervous laugh, glancing back to Diego hoping to get some backup. His brother simply urged him on. Klaus sighed and his entire being deflated with his refusal.

"Klaus, what the hell is going on? I don't have time for another one of your ridiculous pranks," Five complained impatiently.

"I need your help rescuing a friend," he admitted freely, turning back to Five.

Five laughed freely at his request. "No," he said letting his facial expressions fall flat. "The last time I tried to help you I ended up having to warp out of police custody."

"But you did get out," Klaus cut in trying to avoid a retelling of their most recent mishap.

"And I had to be the one to explain it all to dad. Alone," he added with rising anger.

Klaus grimaced. "Yea. Sorry about that. I wish I could have been there, really, but something important came up. Real now-or-never type stuff."

"What? Like avoiding the inevitable end of the world? Because last I remember we've already fixed that problem and I can't think of anything more "now-or-never"," he threw back at him.

He knew Five was right. "I guess when you put it like that, I could have made it," he admitted almost sheepishly.

Five merely scowled at his admission.

"But this is different," he added quickly, pushing past Five when he went to kick them out of his room. Klaus shut the door and leaned on it for added security he would finish hearing him out.

"How so?"

Klaus' smile returned. His interest was piqued. "Because we...are gonna..."

Diego rolled his eyes. His sales pitch was quickly dying. "Because you're gonna have me," he stepping forward.

"Not that I don't doubt yoir abilities, but how does that any different? Other than your presence of course."

Their brother's smile widened. "Yes!" he exclaimed before Diego could answer, outstreching his arms toward him and crossing to be by his side. "Because Diego here is an extra set of eyes and ears," he added, cradling his shoulders and endearingly placing his hand on his chest.

Diego glared at Klaus. "Because I will make sure Klaus doesn't screw anything up this time," he answerd shaking himself free.

Five remained silent, considering Klaus 'mission'. He had become anxious lately to do more than just train and follow daddy's orders - even if it was what they all agreed to before their jump back. Not that he would ever admit that to Klaus, but he supposed it could be worth it of Diego was on board.

Klaus stated expectantly and his brother who eyed the two of them. "Say I help you. What is your grand plan to save...who exactly?"

Klaus smiled widely at Diego, ecstatic that things might actually go his way for once.

"Emily," Diego answered, ignoring Klaus.

"Emily?" Five asked surprised with a slight laugh. "You mean the bartender psychic?"

"Telepathic," Klaus corrected him. "But yes. Her. So will you help me? Please?"

Diego rolled his eyes at the duo. "Just say yes already. I can't take much more of this," he added exasperated, dropping down onto the chair at Five's desk.

"Alright fine," he finally agreed.

Klaus began to shower his brother with thabks. He sure hadn't been as appreciative of Diego's allegiance. He huffed to hide his offense. "Klaus!" He pointed at his wrist when he had his brother's attention.

"Oh right. So. Now that I have the best two brothers on board..."

"Klaus," Diego warned.

"Alright, alright. Stop getting your panties in a bunch."

Diego jumped up ready to strangle him.

"Hey! Calm down!" Five intervened. "Don't make me regret helping you," he scolded his brothers. "Now," he continued once the two had parted ways. "When and how are we supposed to save Emily? And from what?"

"I'm glad you asked," Klaus responded slyly before repeating the plan to Five

------

"There it is," Klaus whispered to his brothers, pointing out their entry point.

They crouched hidden among the bushes just outside the point of no return. A nun came out of the front door, followed by two others, and just as Klas said left the door open. Diego huffed quietly to himself and rolled his eyes. Klaus smiled widely.

"Okay," Five said shifting his jacket and bit and readying to jump. "Where is her room?" he asked staring at the building.

It was your typical, old-school convent turned boarding opp. The layout would be easy to figure out.

Klaus shut his eyes and mimicked going over a map with his fingers. "It should be, if memory serves me right, last one on the left, second floor," he said opening his eyes and looking toward the building too. "She always said one of the only good things she remembered about this place were the sunsets," he said quietly to himself with a sad sigh. "West side," he added.

And just like that Five was gone.

-----

He reappeared with a small pop in a girl's room. She was sound asleep, her back to where Five now stood. He crept to her bed and gently tried waking her.

"Emily," he whispered. "Emily wake up."

The girl began to stir, turning toward him. The sight of a boy by her bed had to be a dream. She rubbed her eyes and yawned, sitting up to wake up further. The realization that he was real hit her. Her eyes grew wide in terror and she screamed.

Five quickly covered her mouth. "Emily, please."

She quieted her screams realizing who he was and the fear in her eyes grew to confusion. She mumbled something into his hand.

"What?" he whispered, uncovering her mouth.

"I'm not Emily," she managed to stammer out quietly.

[pengychan]

Regarding your Heaven and Earth series, could you share a bit more on how Héctor, Imelda, and Ernesto’s parents met and got together?

Oh, I’d been planning to write something about it! But in the end, the focus should have stayed on the trio, so I scrapped it. 

I didn’t come around to think up anything very detailed for Imelda’s parents past the fact her father was enough of an idealist to voluntarily leave his family to go to war and die. 

With Héctor’s parents, I like to think they met when already in their thirties and had Héctor later in life, when they thought they were simply too old to actually have a child. The idea was that they both worked in the market, would look dreamily at each other from afar, and were basically Too Fucking Dumb to actually act on it, leading literally everyone else present to collectively roll their eyes and start forcing them into situations where they had to interact. (I have this image in my mind with her being a total klutz and knocking down stuff while repeatedly apologizing, while he watches from afar sighing and going “isn’t she just perfect”. And meanwhile he’s like, pouring coffee into an overflowing cup.)The wedding was no surprise. The baby that followed was. EDIT: oh wait I found some snippets about them too, scroll to the bottom! 

As for Ernesto’s parents, I actually started writing something about their first meeting. I dug it up from the scrap folder, here you go! By the time they met, Adela had no family left. Estéban never had any to begin with. 

***

The man laughed at her, which only made Adela angrier. She had worked hard to mend those trousers quickly; he shouldn’t get to walk out without paying.

“You have to pay for those!” she protested, taking a step forward. Her anger was met with a sneer.

“Or else what? You want them back?”

“I–”

“Want to come take them off?”

Three realizations hit Adela García at the same time. The first was that they were rather far from her home, halfway to the village, and that no one else was in sight. The second was that the man’s grin was just a little too wide. The third - he could overwhelm her in moments, and if he chose to–

Adela opened her mouth, to protest or scream, but she had time to do neither. She would never know whether that man had meant to do anything or was just trying to scare her away, because someone else spoke up, suddenly, loudly - more a growl than spoken words.

“How about you give her the fucking money, she stops shrieking about it, and I get to eat in peace?”

“… Huh?”

Both her and Delgado turned towards the source of the sound. There was a man sitting in the shade of a tree, which was… odd. Maybe she had seen him before, but it was hard to tell, because it was covered in dust the way only miners are, when it sticks to sweaty skin and hair and clothes. Miners usually ate their meals together, but he was a good walk away from the mine by the stream; he was sitting under a tree, a half-eaten piece of bread in his hand, glaring at them both like they’d just stepped uninvited in his living room

Adela fought back a bizarre impulse to apologize for the intrusion while Delgado scoffed. 

“You can mind your own business and keep eating, cabrón,” he snapped, and walked off. Or tried to, because the man stuffed the rest of the bread in his mouth - barely visible amongst dusty black bear - and stood. 

He was tall, broad, and probably strong as an ox, the way miners are. Delgado was not a small man, but all it took was a glance to see who would be worse off if it came to blows. And the man very much looked like he’d love an excuse to deal the first one.

“Call me that again,” he said almost calmly through the mouthful of bread. He swallowed, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Delgado took a step back, all arrogance gone. “Listen– I don’t want to fight.”

“And she wants her money. Plus an extra for making her run after you.”

“Who are you, some kind of–”

“Shut your mouth and pay her.”

For just a moment, it looked like Delgado might argue; but in the end, self-preservation prevailed over his pride. He almost threw the money at her, and left in quick strides, giving the other man a wide berth. Adela grinned - it was easily twice the amount he’d have paid if he hadn’t tried to run off, served him right - and picked up several coins. 

“Thank you for–” she began, and trailed off when she said the man was already walking off towards the mine, without another word. 

Rude. 

“What– wait! Wait a moment!”

For the second time in less than ten minutes, Adela rushed after a man - but this time not to ask for money. He stopped, turned to her, and scowled when he realized she was trying to hand him part of what Delgado had given her. 

“I need no charity,” he snapped, causing her to recoil.

“Oh! I meant no offense, it’s just– as a thank you, for helping me. This is more money than the job was worth. It seems only fair.”

He scowl softened in a look of mild surprise, and for the first time Adela noticed that, beneath the dust and grime, he was rather good-looking. In the end, however, he shook his head. Only later she’d come to know how much he despised the mere idea of charity - how humiliating he’d found as a boy, with the nuns running the orphanage reminding him to be ever so grateful for every scrap thrown his way. 

“I don’t need it.”

“Then let me offer you something to drink,” Adela insisted. “Or to eat before you go back to wor-” 

The church’s bell rang in the distance, and the man tilted his head towards it. “Got to go back now.”

“Dinner, then?”

He turned back to her, blinking. Adela’s brain caught up and oh God, she was rather sure her face was about to catch fire. That was stupid– what was she thinking– an unmarried woman living on her own, just inviting over a man she didn’t even know and had no relation to and–

“Or– or I could prepare some lunch for you tomorrow?” she spoke again quickly, faintly hoping the ground would open up to swallow her. “I’ll be making pozole, making a bit more than usual wouldn’t be a problem at all– you can come and pick it up. I’m not that good a cook but– better than just bread, no? Or maybe a few eggs, I have hens…”

He blinked again.

Shut up. Oh God. Stop talking.

“… I’d like that,” he finally said, a little astonished. He had nice eyes, a lighter brown then her own, almost amber under the sun.

*

(Ernesto has plenty of charm and precisely none of it came from his papá. But for some reason Adela’s brain short-circuited for a moment there. And by ‘some reason’ I mean ‘oh hey hot loner guy’.)

Also here’s what little I could find that I wrote about Héctor’s parents before I scrapped the idea.

“Maybe you need to sit down.”“Ricardo, I am fine.”“Maybe the baby needs to sit down.”“Ricardo.”The mixture of amusement and exasperation on Emilia’s face caused him to grin a bit sheepishly. She was right, of course - she was smart enough not to push herself too far, and countless women went on working while pregnant since the dawn of time - but he couldn’t keep himself from worrying.The old crib in their home had stood empty for so long, he couldn’t begin to contemplate the possibility something might happen and–“Mamá! Mamá! Mamá!”“I’m coming, Tito, just a moment–”“Maaaaaa…!”Making a face, Ricardo turned to the source of the unpleasant shrieking. A boy who couldn’t be older than three or four was dragging along a woman whose face was the very epitome of a suffering parent - a clear glance into what would likely become of him in a few month’s time.He couldn’t wait.“Adela! It’s good to see you,” Emilia, always better than him at recalling names, walked around the counter to greet them. “My, how he’s grown.”Adela smiled. “Big and strong like his papá. And how are you? It can’t be long before–” she trailed off when her child looked up at Emilia’s belly, as though confused, and reached up for it. “Ernestito, no! Not without permission!” his mother chided him, but he didn’t even turn: he just rested a tiny hand on Emilia’s stomach and tilted his head in a mute question. She smiled down at him.“There’s baby in there.”

Also

“Wait, what?”“What happened?”“They say something happened in the mine–”“Christ, what’s all the smoke?”“Madre de Dios!”“Someone call for–”“My husband works there.”Adela had spoken so softly, so calmly, like she was stating the weather; yet her skin was suddenly an ashen gray, her eyes huge and full of horror. Ricardo instinctively reached out to catch her should she falter, but she did not. Instead she turned - not to him, but to Emilia. Mother to mother. And Emilia knew what to say before she even uttered a word. “We’ll look after him,” she said, putting a hand on the child’s shoulder. “You go now.”

[takemedancingmaine]

Ruby in the Rough

“You've got to be kidding me,” I huffed out, and blew my bangs from my face.

It wasn't working. 

I was officially done. I was also sweaty from just having sprinted. I had missed the rain by moments though, so I guessed being sweaty was okay. 

It's not just rain, either. It's a classic Chicago rainstorm in that it started to torrential downpour out of nowhere. I had been halfway home from the train stop when I felt a drop and heard the rumble of the sky. From there I had connected the chest strap of my backpack, stuck my phone in my bra, and sprinted in my boots to reach my front door before the sky opened up.

Which is how I’d found myself here, stood on my front porch with a sticky layer of sweat covering me, what I'm pretty sure is a blister on my left foot from running in my boots, and my key in the lock on the door that will not turn.

I had been having this problem for weeks. Sometimes my front door lock would turn and the door would open without a problem. Other times, the lock would stick a bit and I would have to jiggle the key and the handle a few times before it finally opened.

Now, it's simply not opening. The key was in the lock, and the lock was steadfastly not turning, not even a Millimeter. I kept turning the key in the lock or trying to, and absolutely nothing was coming from it. 

My frustration had started to bubble to the surface when a rumble of thunder sounded and made me jump. I actually screamed out loud in fright.

I caught my breath.

“Get a trip, Ruby. Get. A. Grip,” I mumbled to myself as I ran a hand through my hair and tried again with the door.

Nothing.

It looked like I might be getting wet after all. If I ran ‘round the back of the house and let myself in the back way, I’d get myself soaked through in a moment.

I didn't want to get wet. I really didn't want to get wet. So I ripped my key from the lock and moments before I jumped off the porch to run around I shoved the key back in the door and tried again. My determination to get through the front door had settled throughout my entire being.

Still, nothing happened, and I could feel it as my frustration turned to anger at the stupid lock while I tried over and over again to get the key to turn.

After what seemed like an eternity of me just stood on my porch helplessly with the anger growing inside me threatening to bubble over, the key began to budge a bit in the lock. It took a few more jiggles after that, but finally, it relented and gave in and the door was unlocked.

I was in.

Once inside the building, I jogged up the stairs to the second story apartment and, after unlocking that second door with no problems, made my way into my tiny little apartment.

Once I’d slipped my boots off and dropped my backpack onto a chair near the door I made my way to the bathroom. There, I splashed my face with warm water to rinse away some of the sweat.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror and sighed. The bags under my eyes have apparently become permanent fixtures on my face. God, it seems as if my 26 is everyone else's 45. At least, that's what it feels like the stress has done to my face.

I was situated above an empty first-floor apartment. My landlord had lived there for a few months after I'd moved in because he was upgrading it all. After he’d finished and moved back into his own home, I'd had a pair of college boys living there for a year.

Now though, the apartment has been empty for going on three months. It's been wonderful because I can make as much noise as I like.

It’s not that I'm all that loud on a regular basis, but after a stressful day, I liked to pour a glass of whiskey, connect my phone to my speaker, and dance around the apartment to loud music, drowning out my thoughts and the busy street below.

That had been the plan for tonight as well until my phone started ringing. I was in the middle of reaching for the whiskey bottle, my favorite glass already on the counter in front of me when the pop song set as my ringtone rang out loudly.

It scared me more than it should have because I'd forgotten that I'd put it in my bra when I sprinted home. I pulled out the phone and saw that it was Cleo. I worked to get my heart rate slowed and I clicked the answer button.

“RU-BY!” Cleo sang into the phone in her sing-song voice. I pulled the phone from my ear and put it on speaker so that I could continue to pour my drink and move around the kitchen while looking for something to munch on.

“Something so rank has happened.”

I smiled to myself as I spun and spotted my plantain chips. They were one of the things I could eat a literal mountain of and never be bored of. 

I hadn't even said a word yet and Cleo had already started with her story. She had a date last night and I'd been waiting all day for her update regarding how it went.

“And so here I am, at dinner with this girl and she just starts talking about her ex-girlfriend,” she said in that exasperated tone of hers that I know so well. Cleo has a case of the dramatics, and I love it because there's never a dull moment with her.

I write a reminder on my notepad to text my landlord about the lock and jump up to sit on the counter. 

“Well,” I sighed. “Sometimes people just have trouble moving on if the relationship was really influential.” I paused and brought my glass to my lips before I thought of something to add. “Maybe it was her first girlfriend. Or her first time admitting she’s a lesbian. That might be the only thing she has to talk about at this point.”

Cleo snorted. “Honestly, Rubes, I wish it was that.”

“It was worse?”

“It was worse.”

“How?”

Cleo took a deep breath. That's how I knew, really knew the something rank she’d first referred to was about to be revealed. I revelled in the pause before she spoke again, the anticipation of a Cleo story sitting in my belly as my brain started to come up with possible answers to my question. I was sure none of my made-up thoughts were nearly as good as the real deal though.

“Ruby,” Cleo said dramatically. “She started talking about sex, all kinds of sexual activities, all kinds of techniques…and I swear, she forking went into gory detail for everything she was saying. She was talking about her and her ex! Everything they did together as if it would turn me on or something!” Her voice had risen at least two octaves as she retold the events of last night. 

“I felt like every eye in the restaurant was on us and I can honestly say I've never been redder with embarrassment, more visibly uncomfortable in my entire life than I was last night.”

That was saying something, too. Cleo wasn't lacking in the confidence department. Once she'd realized she was a lesbian her sophomore year of college it was like a flip switched in her and all of her insecurities regarding who she was just vanished.

Of course, she was still insecure about normal things, like her dismal cooking skills or her career choice being all sorts of wrong, but her personal life and dating life were not topics she shied away from whether in practice or retelling.

Cleo, who was a little on the taller side, was a mix of ethnicities and between her dark eyes that could pierce through you, and her full lips that were always perfectly pouty, and her thick curly hair, she was a knockout. The thing she really had going for her though was the way she exuded confidence in all social situations. It was what drew people to her, including her friends.

Which is why the thought of her red-faced and embarrassed in a restaurant seemed so comical to me.

I couldn't help myself. I laughed.

“Don't laugh at me!” Cleo called through the phone speaker. “The worst part is that we hadn't even gotten our food yet, so I had to try and steer the conversation back to more normal topics for the next forty minutes. It just barely worked, too,” she sighed. “If it didn't I'd probably just have thrown some cash on the table and walked out.”

“Are you finally done with dating apps then?”

“It was one embarrassment, Ruby. I’m not opening up a monastery and swearing off having a good time. No offense to nuns,” she added.

I laughed at her response. Cleo was nothing if not consistent. I was truly lucky to have found her in college. Cleo was originally from the suburbs of Chicago and always knew she would move back to the city after graduation, even before landing her job teaching second graders.

The way she talked about the city back in college would give me butterflies. The good kind, of course. Back then, I was a just a shy girl from St. Louis that had made the biggest move of her life to go to college in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Then I got offered a job in Chicago a year after graduating, so I packed up and left Missouri a second time.

I lived with Cleo, crashing on her couch for a few months before saving enough to finally afford a safety deposit and for a nice one bedroom apartment to finally open up.

Cleo and I had lived together for three years in college, so it wasn't hard for us to live in close quarters for a bit, but not having my own room whenever Cleo happened to bring someone home was something I was not accustomed to. I love her, but I was so glad to finally have gotten my own place when I did.

She'd been by my side through pretty much everything and I would stay by hers as well. The going was never consistently smooth for either of us, but we stuck it out no matter what because that's what you do for people you love. You keep showing up. 

Cleo was also the reason I met Ana, Harry, and Liam. Her teacher friends have become part of our group and, along with Louis from my work, the six of us have become incredibly close. 

We go out as a sixsome at least once a week somehow, whether it be brunch or a night out on the weekend or we all gather at one of our apartments and make dinner during the week. In November we’ll have our third annual Friendsgiving.

This week, we’re meeting up tomorrow evening for a few drinks at one of the bars in my neighborhood. I had thought Cleo might hold this story in until then, but apparently, it was too good to hold back.

“Was the food good at least?” I asked as I opened my bag of chips and bit into one.

“Of course it was good.” I can tell she's rolled her eyes at me by just her tone. “It was Aurelio’s.”

My stomach rumbled at the thought of pizza, really good, thin-crust pizza.

“Fair point,” I conceded as I ate another chip.

“Are you eating those weird chips you love so much?” Cleo asked.

“No,” I answered around my mouth full of chip as I looked down at my phone suspiciously.

“You are.”

“So?”

“You really need to learn how to eat unhealthy again,” she said.

“I'm plenty unhealthy,” I defended myself before taking a sip of my whiskey as if to prove my point to myself.

“College Ruby, who was plenty healthy, would be shocked if she took note of the lack of Oreos in your kitchen right now,” Cleo informed me.

I did always have a stash for us to share after a long week, or day sometimes depending on the events.

“I've got that vegan Oreo ice cream in my freezer right now!” 

“I'm not even justifying that,” Cleo said, the disdain clearly laced through her tone.

“Hey,” I grumbled. “Oh, have you checked the weather for tomorrow?”

“It's supposed to rain all night tonight and then clear up in the morning. Nothing to impede with our plans,” Cleo assured me.

“Oh, sick.” I leaned my shoulders against the cabinets and closed my eyes as I began to feel the whiskey sink into my bloodstream.

“Hey, I've gotta go grade papers before I fork off and ignore my responsibilities all weekend, but I love you and I'll see you tomorrow, Rubes.”

I love the way she calls me Rubes. Growing up my parents were very strict with me and my sister to only call us by our middle names, so to have a friend who calls me by my first name and uses a nickname at that? It feels really special. It was something I didn't have until I went to college and I relished it once I acquired it.

“Bye! Love you too, Cleo.”

“Byeee,” she called and then the line cut out.

The silence would be deafening if not for the sound of rain absolutely battering my windows and roof. It's one of my favorite sounds, but I'm glad I'm now inside rather than out there where it would soak me through.

“Hey, Google,” I called over my shoulder as I scrubbed my kitchen sink. “Play my 70s Playlist on shuffle.”

“Oh, what a night! Late December back in ‘63!” I started belting out Frankie Valli & the Four Seasons as it played from my speaker. 

It was the little things that made cleaning bearable for me. I typically don't mind cleaning, but after my week I'd wanted to sleep in and lounge around in my jammies all day not go for a run and then deep clean my kitchen.

But that's what I did. I got up for my run and then started deep cleaning my kitchen. I was definitely going to need a nap before my night out with my friends. 

I did need to go get groceries too, though. I huffed out a breath as I started moving my hips and swaying my lower body while my entire upper body tensed up as I focused on scrubbing my sink.

I was so close to being done. The cabinets and fridge had been cleaned and reorganised, the oven, counters and stove had all been cleaned, the floor had been scrubbed, and once I finished the sink I only had to take out the trash and recycling before I'd officially finished cleaning for the day.

I had started off by listening to top 40 playlists before I'd moved on to boy bands of the 90s 00s and now. It was almost as if I was working backwards through music. Currently, I was throwing it back a little older.

I swiped my forearm across my forehead to wick away the sweat, and it made me glad I didn't shower after my run. I was one of those people that sweats easily.

I was aching and sore, too. My back feeling it from being bent over while scrubbing the floor, and my shoulders were burning from the counters and sink. My legs hurt because I pushed myself in my run earlier. 

I am a bit of a wreck at the moment. Although I felt like judging by the week I had, wreck might just become my standard state.

I work in a bakery. I'm not an actual baker. But it's why I run. I'd never be able to stay fit otherwise with all the baked goods just lying about around me. Plus, Louis was always using me as a taste test subject.

It's why Cleo thinks it's funny I'm so healthy. I eat vegetable chips and I work out twice a day. I only drink water or tea--whiskey being my one occasional exception.

In college, I was quite healthy, but I'd taken it to another level since moving to Chicago. I'd lost a lot of weight when I first moved here. I had always been a little chubby, but once I'd moved to the city, I made an effort like I'd never done before. Twenty-five pounds lighter I was happier, healthier, and all-around food nerd.

I geek out over fresh vegetables and really good deals on nutritional yeast. I love talking recipes to anyone who will listen or has their own to share, and I've been hard-pressed to find someone that actually likes tofu as much as I do.

Louis, the owner of a small local bakery chain, makes fun of me for it as well. He thinks it's quite funny how I work out every day and I barely ever eat any of the product. He's been teasing me since he hired me.

He needed an accountant and that's where I came in. He'd just opened his third store when he realized he needed help with the numbers.

He and I work in his original location down in Gold Coast. It's his most popular location, but it's also been there for five years and has built an established following within the community.

Louis is a baker by trade and knew he was always going to be surrounded by baking for the rest of his life. He’s from the suburbs and went to the University of Chicago. Whilst there he would perfect recipes and when he was a junior he started a business of making orders on-demand before he finally earned enough to open the flagship store right after he graduated.

Five years on from that, the twenty-seven-year-old has two more locations open and is stuck with me as a friend. He and I had instant chemistry. Even when my interview for the position was over video call we could both tell we had a connection to each other that would make working together as easy and as second nature as breathing.

I accepted the offer for the position for a few reasons. One was location, I wanted to be in Chicago. Two was Louis, he just seemed like someone really wonderful to work with. Three was because I knew I'd not be working with a large soulless conglomerate. I'd studied Economics and Business. I didn't want to be on Wall Street or the like, so this job seemed to fit. 

I did not take the position for the salary. Louis was able to pay me decent enough, and he did pretty well for himself, but I knew I could make more almost anywhere else. I just didn't want to. Sure, a six- or seven-figure salary would be nice, but I'm happy and comfortable.

Louis is one of my best friends and he's always making me his Sous Chef--or, baker--whenever I have a spare moment from running his business.

The joke is that I don't really have any spare moments, but he makes me bake with him anyway. It's always fun and almost always ends up with one of us doubling over in laughter.

Although Louis keeps his doors open seven days a week, he forces me home on the weekends, knowing I can catch up on the slower weekdays.

The poor guy works six of those seven days, too. He chooses whenever he gets his day off, but typically it's Sunday because he's hungover and Louis knows himself well enough to know the state he'll be in.

I dropped the scrubber in the sink and admired my work for a moment. Quickly though, I threw it in a basket under the sink and turned the water on to rinse. Both basins were sparkling. I was satisfied with that.

I peeled off my gloves and re-tied my hair, my bangs not even pretending to cooperate. I stepped into my slides and with the recycling bin in one hand and a garbage bag in the other I descended the stairs at the back of the house and stepped into the rather chilly mid-September air. It was currently false fall.

Once back inside I locked both back doors and then made my way to the bathroom to shower and get the grime off of me. I was feeling exceptionally gross. Plus, I could put off getting groceries until tomorrow. I had enough food in the fridge to make it work until then.

I washed off the grime as the speaker played Easy by The Commodores from the other room. I could feel the muscles in my body releasing with the steam.

The bakery was doing well, but Louis was asking about possibly opening up a fourth location. I don't think he's too serious about it. I think he’s content with three. 

I think by having me check if he could potentially open a fourth, he's actually trying to figure out how well he’s handling three. Seeing his profit margins and expenditures for the past year and having me make projections for the next two years is a big help for him to just gauge the lifeline of the business as it is.

A fourth location would definitely spread him too thin, but sometimes Louis gets funny when talking about his successes in the business, so I think he's just trying to figure out where he’s at without talking about it directly.

I'll probably get him to talk about it soon though. Just to advise him against a fourth bakery. Not that he couldn't handle four in terms of financial ability, he could. I just think it's better for him to keep three, stay stable, and keep himself sane rather than just keep building and building for the sake of it.

The number-crunching and organizing and predicting… although I love it and it's fun for me, to be hunched over a computer and databases takes a toll on my shoulders and my eyes. A few times throughout the week I got up and walked around the storefront just to be away from my screens.

By the time I turn the water off I feel sleepy from the heat and don't even get dressed. I end up just drying off and wrapping my hair in a towel before climbing into bed wearing only my robe, setting an alarm for an hour or so later and then just slipping into unconsciousness.

“Get a load of this guy, Ruby.” Harry elbowed me gently in my side while nodding in Liam’s direction as he walked over to us.

“What?” I asked quietly as Liam drew nearer. Cleo and Louis were at the bar getting us our second round while Liam was coming over as a late arrival. He had an apartment showing that went late apparently.

On Harry’s other side, his fiancé, Ana chastised him. “Oh shut up, Haz. He was working.” She pulled one of his curls.

“I'm not talking about him being late,” Harry defended himself. “I'm talking about the glasses!”

Ana rolled her eyes and shrugged before finishing her last sip of wine knowing that the next glass would be in front of her momentarily.

I sniggered. Liam has never worn his glasses out in public with us. A few times I've seen him wearing them when I've stayed over his place after a night out or a party. They're kind of adorable, but also a little bit dorky. I can see why Harry said something.

“We ordered you an IPA.” Cleo came back to the table just behind Liam who had only just opened his mouth to greet us. She passed out our drinks as Liam thanked her.

“You're a dream come true.” he leaned in and hugged her before they took their seats. He then leaned across the table to kiss my cheek.

Louis came back and handed off my drink and took a sip of his own as he sat beside Cleo and then passed the other drink over to Liam.

“I don't know why you're thanking her when I'm the one who carried it over,” Louis grumbled.

“Because she has a story to tell and I'm trying to butter her up so that she'll embellish is as much as possible.” Liam brushed his arm against Cleo’s. She rolled her eyes, but the smile that slipped onto her lips was undeniable.

“You are all ridiculous.” She shook her head. “But I know you've all been dying to hear it, so here we go.” She settled in to tell her tale of the epically disastrous date.

I watched as all of our friends reacted to various points and details throughout, having already heard the events the night before. I sipped my water and zoned in and out. I noticed the old Eagles song on the radio and the way the TVs in the corners flickered between whatever sport was on each and the commercials filling in the gaps.

I noticed the man in the corner who kept leaning into the woman he was with, trying to see if she'd notice his hints. I noticed the younger bartender who kept avoiding the stares of the women ordering and just went about his job dutifully, sometimes with a bright pink tinge to his cheeks.

I was keen to notice the way Harry’s fingers would trace along Ana’s arm as they listened to Cleo, or the way Louis was giggling, already somehow knowing how this story would go from bad to worse.

I felt good. I felt comfort being around these people. My friends, my fellow patrons--a few of them regulars I'd become familiar with--, and just everyone in between was making me feel an ease I could sit within and enjoy.

Two hours and many other various stories later Louis and I were sitting leaning against each other as Harry and Ana detailed the latest wedding planning drama. I had my feet propped up in Liam’s lap as Cleo wandered off to use the restroom.

I was still getting used to the idea that my friends were getting married. At twenty-six I felt far too young and naive to make life decisions like that, but when I looked at Ana and Harry I knew they were perfect for each other. Plus, they were each a few years older than me, and their love was palpable. Of course they were getting married.

It wasn't just love though. They got along, teased each other, riled each other up like no other, and somehow they still managed to find happiness and stability together. They were such wonderful humans to others, as well. The only person good enough for Ana was Harry and vice versa.

Their engagement was relatively recent, only three months ago, and I could tell, for them, it was still a thrill every day. I loved just watching them interact and looking around myself at Liam and Louis I could tell I wasn't the only one.

“I think I'm out for the night.” Cleo came back up to the table and startled me.

“What? Already?” Louis asked as he checked his watch. I checked my own: 11:43.

I don't know how he did it. Late nights prepping for early mornings at the bakery, maybe, but these days by 11PM--earlier if I was being honest with myself--I was ready for bed. Even with my nap earlier I was feeling tired.

“I have a big science week to prepare for,” Cleo explained herself. “A bunch of second graders making messes of volcanoes and who knows what else?” Louis and Liam simultaneously shudder at the thought. I sniggered at their reactions.

“Brunch next Sunday then?” Liam asked the table as Cleo pulled her coat on.

We all agreed that that sounded perfect and as Cleo said her goodbyes I pulled on my own coat and made to leave with her.

“Turning in?” Ana asked me knowingly.

I nodded and stuck my thumb in Louis’ direction. “This one just about worked me to the death this week.”

Louis held his hands up in mock disbelief. “I wasn't that bad.”

“He really wasn't,” I agreed. “I just like blaming him for things.”

“It is quite fun always having someone to blame.” Ana smirked and elbowed Harry.

“Heyyyyyyy,” he complained in indignation, but his smile gave him away.

“I'll see you guys soon, okay?” Louis, Liam, Harry, and Ana all stood up again to hug me, telling me they'd see me soon, and then I'm on my way, catching up with Cleo who's stood outside the pub waiting for me.

Cleo was getting on the train and I was walking that way to get home, so we walked the two short blocks together. Neither of us needed to say anything as we walked, just being comfortable in the silence was enough. 

“Let me know when you get home alright?” I asked Cleo as she stepped away to get into the station. 

“Will do, Ruby.” She smiled before heading off. 

I started my short walk home humming to myself some song I'd heard in the bar earlier.

It was when I was on my street that I heard the footsteps behind me. Out of habit, I picked up my pace a little bit, seeing my home come into my vision as I did so, my keys clenched tightly in my hand.

I quickly looked over my shoulder and saw a man in a jacket, the hood up, as he walked.

I was trying not to be too obvious that I was picking up my pace because this was far from the first time I'd walked home with others walking behind me.

I often would find myself being paranoid about this pretty regular occurrence in my life and after I was safely in my home I'd be stuck feeling somewhat guilty that they had walked past me without saying a word. I'd judged a normal person on the regular for just going on with his or her life.

I blame my mother for my paranoia. She was a small-town girl from Missouri and even the suburbs of St. Louis were big for her. She was horrified when I'd moved to Chicago, and even still I'll occasionally get links to news reports from her. It might help if she actually came and saw the city, explored it a bit herself, but she’d never come up.

I opened my gate and had climbed my steps when I heard my gate open again behind me.

I felt myself freeze, my veins turn to ice. I shoved my key in my lock and that's when I remembered how finicky it could be.

Shit.

As I heard the footsteps on my stairs I sent up a plea to anyone listening that my lock would work. Just this once.

My plea was not answered. I tried turning my key and turning it and nothing happened. I wanted to scream. I tried turning the key again and still, nothing happened.

Until something else did.

I felt a large hand slip around my throat and suddenly I was being yanked backward against a solid body, my windpipe being squeezed roughly as a voice shook out of the chest my back was pressed to.

“Give me your wallet!” His harsh voice came out right beside my ear.

I tried to yell, I did, but all that came out was a ghastly ragged sound, and his hand squeezed tighter around my neck. I could feel the tears stinging as they leaked from my eyes as I struggled to free myself, scratching his arm with my keys that were still in my right hand.

He used his free hand and grabbed them from me and threw them to the ground before he wrapped his arm around mine and pinned my arm against me.

“Stop fucking struggling and hand over your bag!”

I was shaking. My windpipe was burning as I tried to breathe enough to be even a bit more comfortable, but I couldn't. I could feel myself weakening as my oxygen supply depleted and I tried to struggle against his grasp.

I'd seen enough movies to know what the next sound was. It was like my hearing has blocked out everything but that next sound, isolating it to make sure I understood. He'd opened a switchblade.

I closed my eyes and took what I thought would be my last breath (shallow as it might be), and I somehow managed to get out the word.

“Okay.”

It sounded strange to my own ears, my voice small and quaking from fear and from the hand still holding me around my throat. I hated how weak I sounded. I hated what was happening.

I reached down and grabbed my bag, handing it over as quickly as I could manage with fumbling fingers. My bag, with all my bank cards, $83 cash, my I.D., and my Ventra card. He didn't check its contents though, just accepted it as I handed it over.

With that, I felt myself being squeezed tightly one last time, my throat actually closing completely for a moment, my ribs twinging uncomfortably with the pressure before everything was gone.

Suddenly I was alone on my front porch. My throat burned as my lungs tried to suck in as much air as possible, my eyes stung with fresh tears. I sank to the ground, my knees meeting the wood with an echoing thud that I was sure would've hurt more if I was paying attention.

I brought my hands up to my neck automatically and regretted it when I could feel the bruises already forming. I knew I was lucky it wasn't worse, lucky that I was still alive, but as I gasped for air on my front porch I couldn't feel lucky. 

I could only feel rattled and alone.

[imgilmoregirl]

The Secret Affair

AO3 Link

Notes:  Ah-ha! Look at this big chapter! I'm kind of proud of my work here. I've tried to make it sound as realistic as fiction possibly can so I hope you guys like it!

Chapter Six

It was Thursday night, the weirdest heat wave of all times still punished Storybrooke and the nearest towns with no forecast to when it would end. The large windows of Isabelle French’s bedroom were open and the fan was working on it’s maximum, but it still seemed pretty hot in there for her and one of her closest friends, Jasmine. They were sat on the floor, books and pieces of paper surrounding them as the girls wrote the most important things about their latest classes and made questions to each other in an attempt to have everything covered for their Chemistry test.

"So,” started Jasmine, looking up from her notebook to take a look at her friend for the first time in long minutes, “are you really babysitting Neal Gold tomorrow?"

"I think so," Belle answered with a shrug, reaching for her bottle of water and taking a sip.

She grimaced when she noticed that what once was a perfectly cold drink was now a hot waste of water. The girl pulled it away and focused on Jasmine’s inquiring glare. Her arched eyebrow let it clear that something was coming.

"You think?"

"Mr. Gold and I haven't been talking for the last two days so I'm not really sure if he still wants me to do it or not."

"Oh, what have you done, Bells?"

It was a simple question, anyone could tell, even Belle herself, but to her tired, irritated ears it even sounded like an offense. She threw her hands up, letting them fall back on her thighs with a loud clap that startled the other girl a bit, but Belle couldn’t quite notice it now as she was feeling a hot wave of anger taking her whole body.

"Nothing! Jesus, Jas, I thought you were the only one in this town who was not judging me,” she complained, feeling her eyes burning with nonsensical, unshed tears. "Even Ruby and my father have suspicions about the two of us!"

"Slow down, girl, that's not what I've said," Jasmine defended herself. "What I meant is that you're clumsy, I thought you could have broken something expensive and he was angry."

"Ah, yes," Belle murmured, now completely ashamed of her own behaviour. "I'm sorry, I'm exasperated. Must be the Chemistry test."

Jasmine only snorted and closed up her notebook, starting to gather her things and put most of them back to her backpack, leaving only her notepad and a pen on her lap.

"Well then, we should study because it's almost eight and I can predict my father calling me at any second now."

Of course, her father, the school, their test. Belle wasn’t focusing in any of it when Jas suddenly decided to speak up, actually, she was thinking about the taste of Liam Gold’s lips and the way they moved in synchrony with her, however, she had to come back to reality before she lost herself to a fantasy that clearly wasn’t happening a second time.

"Teen drama," the brunette murmured to herself. "I cherish it now."

...

Although she was expecting to come home after school, Belle had told her father she was babysitting for the entire weekend – she didn’t say who exactly she was watching, obviously – and prepared a bag with clothes and other essential, that would stay in Ruby’s recently fixed car during their classes. However, right when she was leaving for school, Belle found the envelope Milah Gold had obviously dropped there for her.

A roll of her eyes followed the quick, exigent and careless note she had left, because as someone who knew exactly what was a good mother, Belle could tell that Milah wasn’t one. She didn’t get to that conclusion just by remembering about her own mother’s lovely and preoccupied behaviour, but by gathering the memory of all the amazing mothers and grandmothers of Storybrooke. None of the good ones paid their children’s nanny’s like this, nor left the town without making sure they weren’t going to be safe and cared for.

That one small event had made a new, strange rage settle on Belle’s chest during the whole day and even when she picked the sweet Neal Gold up from school, smiling to him and offering the boy a pack of chocolate chip cookies, she was still feeling it and needing to scream to someone just to relieve the stress. It probably was the reason why they reached Mr. Gold’s shop so quickly that afternoon.

The sign was turned open and she swung the door open with no hesitation, bringing the little boy along with her, his hand tucked in hers with a security that made her heart ache. Most children weren’t so fond of strangers and if Neal was, it was probably because he wasn’t receiving enough attention at home.

"Belle?" Liam’s voice took her away from her musings, making Belle look up to see his surprised eyes focused on the boy she had brought. "What are you doing here with Neal?"

"Well, your wife left an envelope by my door this morning with my payment and the keys to your house, so I guessed I was the one who had to pick him up from school," she answered with a shrug, trying to keep herself as calm as possible, knowing that she should mind her own business and not be angry at her boss’ wife in any way. "We just came by to say hello and ask you if there is any routine I should follow with Neal or if I should just do things my way."

Gold blinked, astonished. Leaving the watches with which he had been working, Liam walked towards them, leaving heavily on his cane as he kneeled in front of his son and allowed the little boy to happily throw his arms around him – not even fussing when some cookie crumbs fell to his perfectly clean suit.

"Do as you prefer, dearie," he told her as he petted Neal’s hair and pressed a dry kiss on his cheek. "You, my boy, be good to Ms. French alright?"

Ms. French, again they were back at it. But if Liam Gold wanted to play this game and pretend there was nothing happening, she was going to follow it. When she was Ms. French to him, he would be Mr. Gold to her.

"I'll eat all my vegetables and go to bed when she says so," Neal said, waving his head promptly.

"You're adorable," Gold laughed, tickling his chin and making Neal giggle.

Yeah, Belle was definitely right, Neal’s lack of affection came from his mother not his father.

"I've said that a thousand times on our way from school to here," she agreed. "I could spend my whole week with your son and I wouldn't be tired of him."

When Liam looked up at her she felt that weird thing again, as if the world had stopped and a thousand damned butterflies were fluttering in her stomach. She had to remember herself how to breath as Gold pulled Neal down to the floor and stood up with some effort.

"Uh, I think Milah must have the guest room ready for you," he said in that weirdly polite tone of voice again, the sweet moment between them, clearly getting to na end. "There is a bathroom there you can use too and feel free to eat or prepare anything in our kitchen."

"Alright, thank you for the hospitality, Mr. Gold," Belle replied nodding for him. "Should we expect you for dinner?"

"No, darling, I'm going to be late here, so if you please, put Neal down before I arrive," he explained as he turned away, making her heart race with the word darling. Liam picked up the very same black folder he used every last week of each month and waved it toher. "Rent time."

"Ah, good luck with that, I hope the nuns have their payment in hands."

"So do I," he answered with a smirk.

And all of the sudden the reality of the situation hit her hard. Belle was spending the whole weekend in his house, all alone, expect for his child. She swallowed hard as she felt her hands trembling a little with the uncertainty of how she should act for the next two days.

"Papa,” Neal called and the two of them immediately looked down at him, both relieved to have something else to think about. “Can you read the bunnies for me today?"

"Oh, my boy, papa will be late today, but I bet Ms. French can do it for you."

"Sure," Belle confirmed. "Which book is that?"

"One about a father and a son who loved each other more than anything," Gold whispered, touching his boy’s cheek and smiling in a way that took Belle’s breath away. "Neal will show it to you."

"I'm excited to see it," she said, taking Neal’s hand again. "Let's go, buddy."

Neal nodded, following her with bouncy steps. When they were at the door, ready to leave, the turned around, waving back at his father and pulling another grin to Belle’s face.

"Bye, papa!"

...

Taking care of Neal was easy, Belle soon realised. He was quite a nice child, unlike most of the ones she had watched ever since she was fourteen, he would do the things she said and only insist a tiny bit to do what he actually wanted. In the end he was in bed by eight after a lovely night reading that she enjoyed as much as he did.

Gold’s house was another whole subject. Of course she had already seen it on the outside and knew how huge it was, but once Belle entered it, she had a big surprise. Not just because of the warm, dark colours of the walls, floors and furnitures, but because it was full of interesting objects and books that called her attention from the first moment she stepped in there.

Every room seemed to be bigger than her whole house, darker, even with all lights switched up and fuller. She knew it must be a matter of personal taste, but she concluded that the house felt quite sad and depressing. Neal’s bedroom was the only happy and colourful corner she found, the rest could have been taken from a horror movie for all she knew.

There wasn’t much life there, either. Lots of trinkets, just like in Gold’s shop, but not life. The curtains were made of a heavy velvet that gave her the impression that they were barely touched by anyone in there, she only found two photographs, one a huge portrait of Neal in a younger age that was hanging above the fireplace and the other, a very smaller portrait that could have gone unnoticed if she hadn’t been taking an attentive look at all the stuff gathered in a glassware. It was a family picture with baby Neal wrapped in Gold’s arms, but the strange thing about it was that no one looked really happy, specially Milah.

If she could, Belle would have spent the whole night just opening cabinets, drawers and trying to find what was wrong with the Gold Family, but she knew that she couldn’t do it... Unless she really wanted to anger her boss and that wasn’t an option while she was sleeping under his shelter. Her only alternative then was to prepare something to eat and get ready to bed.

Her bag was laying on a chair at the guest room that had been marked with her name using a piece of paper and a red pen. She changed to her pyjama and check on Neal one last time before going back downstairs and curling herself up on the couch with a book, hearing the sounds of the crickets outside the house as she flipped up the pages, until a different noise came from the main hall and she looked up to see Gold entering the living room.

"You're awake," he said in awe.

"I've pulled Neal to bed about an hour ago so came down stairs to read a bit and eat something," Belle explained, pulling her book down to the coffee table and standing up to look at him. "I still have pasta if you want some."

"No, thank you," Liam quickly turned the offer down. "I'll be in my office if you need me.”

That was it, she thought, the distance he had put between them been explicitly again. She hated it and what she hated the most was the fact that Gold didn’t have the right courage to face the situation and speak to her, just tell Belle what exactly was going on between them and why he thought she should ignore it all, however, Liam wasn’t escaping her this time around.

"Actually, I do."

He was already on his way out, but Liam stopped turning back to look a her with na arched eyebrow and a confused glare on his eyes.

"What?"

"To talk," Belle explained. "I think we need to talk, Mr. Gold."

"About Neal?"

"No, about us," she insisted, elevating her tone of voice a bit. "Listen, you're driving me mad! You kissed me, freaked out and then stopped talking to me!"

"Ms. French, I'm sorry but you came here to babysit Neal, nothing else," Gold answered drily trying to cut her off even before a proper conversation could start.

It was another thing that drove her mad, his stupid, quiet way of facing this. Damn it, didn’t he know that avoiding things could only make them even worse? Well, if all people he knew enjoyed the silence treatment instead of a good talk, then he was going to lean that Belle was a very different kind of woman.

"See? That's what I'm talking about," the girl pointed out, agrily. "You need to stop right now! Whatever you're doing, just stop! I'm not a toy, Liam and I don't want you to play with me anymore. I hate you when you treat me like nothing and calls me Ms. French as if to anger me but, God, I hate you more when you talk softly and make me feel... Those things."

"Feel what, exactly?"

His voice was now low and husky, just as it was when she wanted him the most, which made Belle swallow hard and fight to keep looking at his eyes when they seemed to burn her body with their brown warmth. His gaze was like chocolate and she wanted to drown in it, drink it and have it all for herself.

"I don't know, I never felt it before," Belle confessed. "It's just this need I don't quite understand yet, this clamping in my belly, this heat on my body."

"Belle, I'm a married man," Liam murmured, his eyes closing as he took a step back.

"I know. So why the hell did you kiss me?"

"Because feel the same, ok?" Gold replied in new, dark and loud tone of voice. One that she didn’t quite know yet. "And unlike you, sweetheart, I do understand what it is and it makes me dirty. A monster, in fact."

The self-loathing in his words, the pain she could see in his eyes behind the desire, it was enough to make her take a few steps towards him and reach for his face, touching his cheek and sighing when he leaned against her palm.

"You're not a monster," Belle whispered before standing on the tips of her toes to press a kiss on his lips.

She knew it was a daring move, that he could pull her away and yell at her just like the last – and first - time they had kissed each other, but she was helpless when it came about him. So then, Belle waited. Waited for the moment he would step back, however Liam remained still, just feeling the touch of her lips on his until Belle herself pulled away to look up at him with confusion crossing her flushed face.

"How can you feel anything for an old crippled man like me?" Gold queried when he noticed she was waiting for his reaction.

"I'm not sure,” Belle considered, thinking about the things people were saying around town and how the girls had joked about it many times. “I know my friends would think I'm crazy if I told them, but I feel it."

Her hand was now on the lapel of his suit jacket, just laid there and she took a deep breath as she moved it down a bit aiming the buttons for a reason that must have been completely instinctive, but that attended the needs her body secretly had.

"You shouldn't come this close, Belle."

"Why not?"

"Because you're tempting me and I'm about to eat the forbidden fruit," Liam said, his free hand finally coming up to wrap on her hair as it stopped on the curve of her neck and his eyes seemed to become darker with something that could only be described as lust.

This time she held her breath. Belle had been taught to be a maiden like in the old times, she should wait until she was married to sleep with someone, she shouldn’t be doing this, she shouldn’t be wanting Gold – a married, older man – like this, but, oh dear, she was.

"What if that's what I want from you?"

His mouth opened slightly and Belle thought he would say something harsh to her and tell her to go home, but then his eyes fixed on hers and Liam seemed to get lost. He bent down to capture her lips in the most wonderful kiss she had ever shared before, his calloused fingers caressing the soft skin of her face and throat as their tongues enlaced together before his mouth escaped hers, dropping down to her jaw and taking her breath away as he sucked and kissed, making her knees seem to be jelly.

The sound of his cane dropping down to the floor didn’t interrupt the moment, Belle could only concentrate on his other hand travelling down her body and then under her pyjama shirt, sending electric jolts through her body that made her feel a stronger need. Belle clutched at him and moaned when she felt the hard bulge in his trousers rub a her belly. That was when he finally pulled away a bit, still holding her, but looking extremely uncertain.

"Belle, no..."

"Please, don't stop," she begged. "I have never felt as loved as I'm feeling now. Please don't turn me down."

"Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, caressing her cheek and tracing her eyebrow with the tip of his nose. "We need to go to the bedroom now."

A ragged breath escaped her in disbelief. They were really doing it.

Belle had time to think, if she wanted, she could still tell him that it wasn’t right and that she should go home, however, the girl knew what the desire they were feeling were leading them right from the start and she never wanted to stop. Smiling at him, she bent down to pick Liam’s cane and offered it to him, allowing her boss to lead them along the corridors, up the stairs and finally to the máster bedroom.

She wasn’t expecting them to go there, Belle thought he would take them to the bedroom she was using for the weekend and not to his wife’s own bed, however before starting a stupid fight, the girl convinced herself that he must have a good reason to do it. She told herself to not think about Milah at all and took a seat on the bed whilst he closed the door and pulled his cane aside before sitting next to her, touching her lower lip with a look that heated her body again, erasing any thoughts from her head.

She leaned forward to kiss him again, this time allowing her fingers to reach for his buttons and open his suit jacket, sliding it down and throwing her arms around his neck to deepen the kiss. Liam groaned and grabbed her by her bottom, pulling Belle up to his lap and pressing up his hidden erection against her legs. A part of her couldn't quite believe she was wanted by someone like Gold, liked to have the power to make him hard this way and wanted to invest in this daring girl she found in herself so recently.

Gold reached for the ends of her shirt and pulled it up, taking it off and throwing the piece of clothing on the floor in that maddening need of getting each other naked. Belle took no time taking his tie and shirt off too, exposing his slim torso to her hands to feel and eyes to admire. He wasn't the fat, hairy guy people supposed him to be and it excited Belle even more, which made her want to make him feel the same about her, so she reached behind her own back and unhooked her bra, pulling it down and blushing as she watched Gold's reaction.

"You're so beautiful, sweetheart," he murmured softly, cupping her breasts and massaging them in simple awe. "Beautiful Belle... Perfect girl."

Her breath got caught on her throat and tears came to her eyes at his adoration. She loved him, now she could tell for certain, she loved William Gold more than she had ever loved anyone. The moment he captured her nipple between his lips Belle gasped louder than she expected herself to. He sucked and bite and all Belle could do was to gasp repeatedly as she felt herself starting to drip between her legs.

"I need you, Liam."

He looked up at her, realising her nipple with a sinful noise and settled his hands on her thighs as he rested his forehead against hers.

"I need to ask, my darling, are you a virgin?"

"Y-Yeah," Belle answered, hoping it wouldn't make him give up.

However, out of what she thought, what Gold did was to help her to move up so he could slid her shorts and panties down as he kicked his shoes and shocks off before letting her sit back on his lap. Belle was now fully naked and Liam drank down the whole image of her before moving his fingers down to her womanhood, parting her folders and spreading her wetness up to a little hidden place that made Belle's eyes roll back as she moaned against Gold's ear.

"I'm going to show you every way in which a woman can be loved, Belle," Liam whispered softly. "I need to warn you though, the first time will hurt and you may not even enjoy it properly."

Belle cupped his cheeks, feeling the ends of his hair touching her skin with softness, she grinned and kissed his lips before pulling back to look straight at his eyes.

"It doesn't matter," she murmured. "My need is you."

Kissing her neck one last time, Gold laid her down on the bed and unbuckled his belt, finishing undressing in front of her and making Belle's eyes widen when she saw his hard cock. She swallowed hard as she sat back, reaching to touch his tip. He was bigger and longer than she had expected, which made Belle feel a moment of panic, wondering if he would fit inside her, but she bet that most girl felt that way on their first time.

"Lay down, sweetheart," Liam instructed. "I need something before we begin."

He reached for the nightstand on the right side of the bed and opened the drawer, taking a silver package from inside it. A condom. Of course, Belle was a fool, she had forgot she used no birth control and they really needed protection. She watched as Liam slid the condom along his shaft before bending down to cover her body with his. Gold slid his hand down her body, caressing her ever so gently before hooking his hand behind her left knee and pulling it up, them doing the same with the right one, parting her legs so he was in the middle, his erection hanging and brushing against Belle's thigh.

"Are you sure that's what you really want?"

"Yes," Belle answered, firmly. "I want you, Liam. I want everything with you."

She traced the lines of his nose, then under his eyes and up to his hair which she clutched as Liam bent down to kiss her as he reached between them to grab his cock and part her lips with it, running up and down to stimulate that little part of her that made Belle writhe before finally settling himself on her entrance. Gold looked at her eyes then, waiting for that ultimate nod before pushing in inch by inch.

It felt weird, too strange and foreign for her body, she felt herself being opened and it didn't feel as good as it did before, it was just uncomfortable and she held onto Liam's back and shoulder to keep herself still as he continued to push. Her brain seemed to scream that he was to big for that, but somehow, her walls were slowly starting to fit him in, gripping his cock tightly until Gold's tip met her barrier.

Belle bit down her lip, holding him closer and took a deep breath before feeling the last thrust, a scream getting stuck on her throat as some tears fell down from her eyes. It really hurt. Damn it, she didn't see that coming, because as much as she knew it was going to happen Belle wasn't expecting it to feel so bad. It was like a part of her she didn't yet know that existed burned intensively.

"I'm sorry, Belle," Gold whispered, pressing a kiss to her neck. "I'm so sorry."

At first, Belle couldn't answer, concentrated in her own pain and breathing slowly as it started to disappear. It was like tripping on the corner of some furniture and hurting a toe, it was a screaming pain that faded to nothing in a short time. What was left was the welcoming sensation of Liam's cock all inside her.

"That's alright," she murmured. "I'm fine, the pain is gone. You can move now."

Nodding, Gold held himself up on his elbows as he pulled almost all the way back before thrusting back inside. At first it felt uncomfortable again, but slowly it started to become pleasurable. It was a good sensation that warmed her body and seeing Liam move above her, letting out small sounds of pleasure made her want more of what she was getting, but Belle didn't quite know how to ask for it. She loved to be in his arms, to be so close to him and she thought that it was this closeness what she was craving, so the girl wrapped her arms and legs around his body and moved her hips forward to meet his cock halfway when he was thrusting in and out. That increased the amazing aching feeling between her legs, so she did it again and again and when she realised, Belle was rocking against him like a mad woman, blinded by desire.

Soft moans came out of her mouth as they moved faster, bodies dripping sweat and other fluids, Gold's cock hitting places inside her that sent Belle to the stars and back at each thrust. She could feel him becoming erratic with every new movement and the sounds he made, those groans that excited her more than anything, became more constant and louder. Belle felt his body starting to shake as she hit a higher level of pleasure and moaned his name to the room, being carried away in white lights when his pace became madly fast just a few seconds before she heard him groaning and shaking more than ever. Then, everything went quiet.

They laid there, a tangled mess above the red bed covers, breathing hard and holding onto each other for dear life. Gold was the first to move, kissing her lips before pulling out of her and taking the condom off, disappearing in the suit's bathroom with it and coming back a moment later to lay by her side again and pull her closer.

"How do you feel?" Liam queried.

"Like a very tired amount of jelly," Belle laughed. "I loved it, thank you."

"Oh, I know you couldn't know what a good love-making is just by this experience, you'll be sore now, but when you're ready I'll show you how it is to cum and writhe in a really good fuck."

The way he spoke made her cheeks become red and Belle looked away from his eyes, nuzzling her nose on his shoulder as she traced his nipple with her thumb. If she told her friends what she had done on that Friday night, none of them would believe, or worse, Ruby would and then would judge her for the rest of her life.

Belle told herself that nobody's opinion mattered when it came about love, if she and Liam liked each other, they shouldn't let anyone come between then. Unless of course, this person was Milah, his wife, the woman who owned the bed in which she had just lost her virginity.

"Liam," she started, slowly, lifting herself up on her elbow to look into his amazing brown eyes. "What about Milah?"

"I have not slept with her ever since Neal was a baby and even after that, we were about to get a divorce," he murmured. "We shouldn't worry about her, but what I do worry about is you. If someone happens to find out..."

"No one will," Belle promised. "I won't tell anybody, that will be our secret."

He sighed, looking away as he distracted himself by pulling a blanket up over them, covering Belle's naked body and wrapping her as if she was a small child. Liam brushed fingers along his hair, contemplating the determined expression on her face.

"You shouldn't want that, Belle and as much as I have enjoyed our night, I'm really sorry I corrupted you this way."

"You didn't corrupt me, Liam," she sighed, kissing his lips, before rolling on her back and hugging the pillow behind her. "No one decides anything in my behalf. If I am in this bed today was because I wanted to."

A tiny laugh escaped his lips as Liam wrapped his arms around her waist, hiding his face on her hair as peaceful silence came over them and the hours passed by, bringing the comfort of a night of sleep over the two secret lovers.

...

Months later.

"Ms. Lucas, I'm warning you, if anything goes wrong with this plan, it will be all your fault," Sidney Glass stated as they drove down the road that lead to one of Storybrooke's quietest neighborhoods.

Ruby had never quite imagined to find herself inside the car of one of her teachers, however with the madness of the last few days, she should start to accept that anything was possible.

"Yeah, I know, you've said it about five times ever since we left Granny's," she complained, moodily but still as determined as the moment she decided to talk to Mr. Glass that morning and just beg.

"Because I'm worried!"

She sighed. Mr. Glass was definitely one to hide behind the words of a book or a good article, she knew that ever since she first started taking his English classes. Ruby wasn't planning to ask for his help at all, it just happened, she saw him having breakfast and attacked with all the arguments she had, just like she did in her craziest moments. However, she should win a few points with this investment, because it was for Belle and for her best friend, Ruby Lucas did anything.

"Why? Belle is a good student, you've said it yourself and you were already going to offer her a scholarship!"

"I know it, but offering her a scholarship and arranging a house for her to flee away from her father and her lover is a very different thing," he insisted.

"Belle made a mistake, ok? But she is trying to fix it," Ruby replied anxiously. "Jasmine already said she can pay for her stay in any where you get."

"This is still wrong, Ms. Lucas."

Oh, that she knew, but everything concerning Belle French and their last year at High School was utterly and completely wrong. She understood it, Ruby had made her own mistakes, she had broken a few hearts and had also screwed her own reputation around town, but it was what made her want to help Belle so badly. Ruby couldn't let the same happen to her, even more when there was a baby involved.

"It's the blue house," she indicated, mindlessly. "Number 35."

Ruby looked down at her phone, the message app still open with no answer from Belle, but the most concerning, no answer from Jasmine, Dorothy or Archie. She had really fucked up and now none of them would talk to her - well, Jas would only answer anything if the name Belle was written on the message and she was the subject of the shortest conversations they shared ever since they met.

Snorting, Ruby leaned back against the car seat looking up to see Moe French dragging a crying Belle to his van. She didn't think twice, Ruby jumped out of Mr. Glass' car as soon as he stopped and rushed towards them, immediately pulling herself between Moe and Belle, insistly punching the hand he had gripping her arm.

"Hey, release her!"

"Get the hell out of here, Ruby," Moe yelled back. "This is none of your business!"

"You're hurting her!"

"He is trying to make me abort my baby," Belle cried. "Please, Ruby, don't leave me."

"What?" Sidney Glass' voice came from where he was, standing beside his car with wide eyes.

They all looked back at him and Moe finally unleashed his grip on Belle's arm allowing Ruby to pull her away, wrapping her arms around the tiny brunette's shoulders as their teacher approached the florist.

"Mr. French, I'm afraid I need to inform you that you can't force Isabelle to do anything, even if she is your daughter and still seventeen," he said in the coldest voice they had ever heard. "And in fact, I came here today to offer Belle a scholarship and a new home in which she and her baby will be safe and cared for. She will be able to study and give her child a better life."

"Really?" Belle asked between her tears.

"Yes, Ms. French, you're a very smart girl and we are investing in you," Glass smiled. "A friend of mine, Fae, has agreed to open her house for you and watch for your baby once it is born, so you don't have to leave college aside."

Ruby caressed her hair, watching as her smile grew bigger and Moe's face became as red as a tomato.

"You can't come here and offer to take my daughter away from me," Moe yelled at him. "You want from her the same thing Gold did, but I'm not letting Belle continue to whore herself like this!"

"Mr. French," Sidney Glass started very slowly. "What you're saying is a very dangerous accusation and I will have to call the sheriff if you insist in saying things like this. Now, Belle will be eighteen in a few weeks, so if she chooses to come with me, she will be free."

Belle French swallowed hard, taking Ruby's hand and stepping away from her father, walking towards Glass, until she felt secure again.

"You're my tower, father, but I won't be Melina," she started. "I will ran away before it is too late for me and I will never treat my child like you treated me."

Moe looked about to explode with anger, he slammed his fists against his own sides and grunted, but then, he couldn't do anything. His daughter was a free bird ever since she was a little girl, she already knew how to flutter and now she was going to fly away, so all he could do was to watch as she entered Sidney Glass' car and left to never come back.

[meshugana1]

Can you have my girlfriend turn me into a submissive ballerina girl dancing en pointe after I insult her dancing when she is showing me what she learnt?

   Payton was beyond excited when she entered the doorway to her apartment and immediately tossed her bag on the couch next to her boyfriend and initiated a series of pirouette’s around the living room and circled the couch then moved into her adagio movements. Her boyfriend sat on the couch disinterested with his dancing girlfriend, far more interested in progressing in his game. Cade had never been interested in her outside the bedroom and he hardly paid attention to her wants, dreams, thoughts, and feelings. He was an imposing man with dark hair and relied on the charity of those around him to maintain his lifestyle, Payton wasn’t wise to his game when they met and he took full advantage worming his way into her home.

   She ended her demonstration with an assemblé and posed beautifully in front of him. He remained oblivious to her and leaned to catch a better view of the television screen. Her excitement died and she let her arms fall. Ballet was something she had wanted for a very long time but it was considered a little too girlish even in their small town, she had all but given up hope when a studio opened up in the main square. It was small and didn’t have much of a class but Payton had leaped at the chance to try one of her dreams. The woman that ran it was a little past middle aged but still had the trim figure of a prima ballerina, she had once been just that until the inevitable happened and she retired to this small town to spread her passion for the art. As it stood Payton was her only regular student and listened to her ballet mistress like a nun listened to the gospel.

   “Babe, could ya move outta the way?” Cade said not even bothering with eye contact and expectant for her compliance.“What did you think?” Payton said.“Of what?”“My dancing? My ballet…I think it’s coming along real nice don’t you?”“Are you really still doing that shit? How much is she charging you to go to a room with a mirror and bounce up and down a whole bunch?”“That’s not ballet Cade and you know it. C’mon, just tell me what you thought.”“Would you shut up and move? I’m almost past this level.”“Why won’t you just tell me what you thought? You play this stupid game all the time,” she said now actively trying to disrupt his view, “just tell me what you thought it’ll only take a second.”“Get outta the way!” He said but the damage was done and he watched his on-screen avatar die brutally and he felt his annoyance turn to rage. He threw his controller on the ground, cracking its hard plastic and sending the buttons flying then rose to his feet in front of her, she was trembling as she had yet to see this side of him.

   “Fuck! You wanna know what I think of your stupid dancing shit? Fine! You fucking suck at it! You look like you’re having a fucking seizer and I’m completely humiliated to even be near you when you’re doing it. Fuck, it feels like I’m being turned gay with how fuckin’ girly that shit is. Now thank’s to you I gotta go buy a new controller, now get outta the way.” He roughly moves past her and she can hear his truck rumble to life and speed away. She felt empty as the tears formed in her eyes, she could feel them trickle down her cheek but she didn’t feel sad. That came a moment later as she squatted in her tutu and held herself. She didn’t know who to talk to so she left and walked the distance back to her ballet studio in a blurred haze.

   She felt hands take her shoulders and was relieved to see her ballet mistress asking what was wrong. All her restrained emotions came pouring out and the old dance teacher held her and listened to the whole sordid affair. After Payton had calmed down some her mistress when and brewed her some tea and told her a little bit about herself, Payton was awed by the bombshell she had shared with her but a smile crept up her face when the older woman made a suggestion that would be quite beneficial to them both.

   Cade was disquieted by his outburst, not from any genuine remorse but because he may have allowed his temper to threaten his situation. He had plans for these sorts of happenings though and made a quick trip to a florist to buy her some roses, no other flower seemed to fix this sort of screwup like roses. He pulled out his phone to give her a call to apologize and recommend a romantic evening, it always seemed more genuine with a phone call as it came off like it just occurred to him and that it isn’t rehearsed. It was unnecessary though as she had called him, she was going on the offensive and wouldn’t even let him speak before she told him that if they wanted to stay together he needed to meet her at her ballet studio right away. He said yes with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, he was not looking forward to watching her flop around with that shit but if it got him back in her good graces then he could stomach it for a bit.

   He pulled in to the parking lot finding it totally empty as he took a space and forced a smile, armed with his bundle of roses he confidently made his into the building. He saw her still in her precious tutu and an older woman stood beside her in a dark singlet. “Hey babe,” he said starting first hoping to seems like the one who initiated the forgiveness, “I just wanted to say first off that it was really wrong of me to fly off the handle like that. You didn’t deserve it, and I got you these to show how much I mean it.” He handed her the flowers and her face showed a little confusion as she looked at her instructor, she returned with a glance communicating confidence and a pat on her shoulder. She shook her head and said “Cade, you’re a terrible boyfriend. You treat me like a burden and you only care about yourself, thankfully I have a wonderful teacher who has a solution that could benefit everybody.”“And what’s that?” He said, incredulity dripping from his words.“You’re gonna join the studio!”“Yeah, right. You can go ahead and dance on your little tutu all you like but I will be dead before you see me dancing like that.” He said. It was the instructor who piped up next.

   “We shall see.” She said, she then rose her hand and snapped her fingers much more loudly than Cade had ever heard someone do before. Suddenly the layabout found his back had straightened out instantly and his feet came together at the heels and his toes pointed away from each other on a perfect line. His arms were where held in front of his chest with his elbows bent forming a semicircle. “That is called ‘first position’ but I’m afraid your ratty clothes are ruining your pose. Let’s fix that,” she said and snapped her fingers again. Cade watched as his clothes rippled and reformed on his body from loose fitting and comfortable to skin tight. He wanted to yelp as he was now dressed in the same sissy outfit his girlfriend wore! His powerful legs were encased in white hosiery that covered his legs and pelvic area completely. His feet were wrapped in pink slippers that had bows decorating the toe. He couldn’t see the bulge of his manhood or his muscular ass through the pink, glittery tutu that was wrapped around his waist. His eyes bulged at the image he imagined he gave off below it and was still embarrassed by the top that covered only his belly and pecs, clearly it was intended for a woman which pained him even more.

   His muscles burned at the odd angle they were forced to maintain but as with most things he adjusted, much to his dismay. “Well, I think we’re on the right track cut that disgusting body hair has to go.” She snapped her fingers again and he felt all the hair his body had spent years growing pull back inside of him and leave every inch of him as smooth as a baby’s bottom save for his head and eyebrows. Even his proud bush of pubic hair was no more and though he couldn’t see it he looked like a child down there. He could hear his former girlfriend laughing her ass off as the instructor stroked her chin looking him over. “Still no good, all this unsightly muscle and fat. Not to mention this little thing,” she said raising her foot to stroke his shaft with her slipper, “you seem like the type of loser to get off on people paying attention to you so I’m going to need to make a few more changes.” He closed his eyes but heard the snap of her magical fingers anyway and if he wasn’t being held in place her surely would’ve collapsed from the alienness of the sensations racking his body.

   He felt his hair, each strand feeling like it was being pulled out and lengthened to below his shoulders. Her muscles felt like they were boiling and he could see them shrink and leave him with scrawny little arms and legs. His chest did not shrink and he counted his blessings, but it was premature as he saw them plump up and gain several inches that were undeniably breasts. They weren’t big but they were very noticeable considering how large and erect his nipples were. He felt his cock grow hard as his breathing caused the sensitive nubs to rub his dress and send erotic shivers all over him. He felt his panties dig into the crack of his ass as his derrière plumped up and gave him an incredible ass that could only be described as perfect. He felt his face mold into a feminine image of beauty and he could feel his feet shrink and become dainty little things he couldn’t believe were holding him up. Then the thing he dreaded most happened and he felt his hard cock draw up and recede into his body. He closed his eyes and tried to will away the feelings and ignore this twisted reality but he wasn’t strong enough and he felt his cock and balls slip back into his body and become his new reproductive system. A clitoris formed and his slit took shape. Finally, a loud crack was heard as his pelvic bowl widened and his hips took shape.

   What stood before them was a vision of the perfect ballerina. Medium height, dark hair tied into a tight bun, modestly sized breasts, a perfect ass and a tight, flat tummy. Cade or rather ‘Cadence’ was terrified to see his reflection in the mirror but it was unavoidable. If he could he would’ve cried. He heard the witch snap her fingers again and braced for even more changes but instead his arms extended and his legs widened their stance. “This is the second position,” the ballet mistress said, “we are going to use magic to help you get the basic positions down at first but you will be expected to learn and become our Prima Ballerina, if you resist or refuse then I’ll just use my magic again and make you do it. I could do that all the time but where would the fun in that be? You will be rented out to dance companies when you’re ready and all the money will come back to us. If you ever want to even dream of being a man again you’ll do as we say, clear?” And it most definitely was. They made him practice tirelessly and even without the mistresses magic Cadence was too weak-willed to argue or refuse and in time became an incredible dancer. On his first night performing in front of a live audience, his mistresses prediction came true and he was so wet he had to borrow several pads from the other dancers.

The end. I hope I didn’t screw this one up too bad for ya!

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #121

“it’s the rich man’s war, but it’s the poor that fight.”

Does your refrigerator have an ice maker or do you use ice cube trays?  Trays. Have you ever been searched by the cops?  No. Do you draw your name in the sand at the beach? I never have just because... why? Are any of your great-grandparents still alive? No. Would you rather sleep with someone else, or alone?  I'd rather sleep with Sara any night. Did your parents try to push you into a certain degree or career path?  No.  I was blessed with parents who seriously did encourage me to do what I wanted. What’s your favorite film genre? Horror. Would you ever dye your hair silver? It's on my to-do list. What color is your refrigerator?  Black. What was the last thing you sent in the mail?  My closure letter to Jason. What cuisine is your favorite restaurant?  Italian. Have you ever visited hot springs?  No, but I'd love to. Who was the last person/thing to lick you?  My dog. If you had the chance to live anywhere in Europe, where would it be?  Germany. Do you have a favorite Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle?  No, I never watched it. Do you like candy canes?  Yeah. Do you prefer pads, tampons or something else? Tampons.  Pads feel like bloody diapers. Have you ever visited someone in prison? No. Is there anything you absolutely refuse to eat? Sashimi. Are you the type of person to take naps, even if you’ve slept plenty? If I'm sad, stressed, or unbelievably bored, I sometimes will. Have you ever had casual sex? No, never would. Do you think it’s attractive for a man to wear eyeliner? I'm a sucker for that shit. Are you the kind of person who does not like talking about their past?  Nah, I'm open about the dark parts now. Have you ever taken a ride in a convertible?  Yeah, my brother had one. What size bed do you sleep on?  Queen. What sort of music did you listen to when you were in high school?  The same I do now, though I went through a more screamo phase. When was the last time you made out with somebody?  Years ago. What month of the year was your mother born?  August. Would you rather travel to Japan or Scotland?  SCOTLAND. Does your house have a porch/balcony?  We have a small front porch and a really big back one. Do you share a middle name with any of your siblings?  Nicole that I know of, idk about Katie. Have there ever been any bushfires/wildfires in your area?  No, but we've been a few hours away from some that were so large the smoke traveled here. Do you think age matters in friendship? Nope.  One of my closest friends is in his early 30s. Do you enjoy clubs? If so, which club do you enjoy going to the most? I've never been to one and I'm really not interested in going.  I can just imagine it being too loud and crowded. Do you take good care of your skin? Apparently not considering it's dry as fuck. Do you play any PC games? What is your favorite?  Not currently.  I loved WoW, but I'm not paying for the subscription when I could spend money on better things. What have you done to your room to make it cozy? Fill it with personal things. What is your favorite seasonal candy? (only available at certain times):  Hm... candy canes. Are there any television shows you own in entirety on DVD or VHS?  "Meerkat Manor." How far away from your house is the nearest gas station? Like two minutes. Have you ever been to SeaWo​rld?​​  As a kid, yes.  I never would as an adult because I don't support it.  You can't keep whales in a damn pool. How long did your last relationship last?  If you're talking about the last one that ended, like four months. Last person you watched a movie with?  Sara. Have you ever touched a cow?  Maybe? Do you call the ice cream topping “jimmies” or “sprinkles”?  Sprinkles. Do you like the idea of promise rings in relationships?  No real opinion.  If you're not ready for engagement but know you will be one day, sure, give one if you mean it. Do you plan on dressing up for Halloween this year?  Hopefully. Have you ever been on a subway?  No. What do you usually buy for snacks when you go to the cinema? Popcorn and a soda. Look to your left and name five things you can see. Water bottle, medicine basket, Illidan poster, crashed ship lamp, and my Silent Hill 3 poster. Do you like having your lip softly bitten when you’re kissing? Yes. Have you ever been on a boat?  Yep. Do you have or want any piercings? I have five, but I want my right nostril and collarbones pierced, plus loads more in my ears. Have you ever set foot in a tanning bed?  Nope, never will.  Skin cancer doesn't sound fun, nor does having to keep exposing myself to one to maintain a tan. Do you trust a lot of people? No. Do you have both a loud side and a quiet side? Yes. If you had to save one thing from your burning house, what would it be? Assuming Mom and Nicole are already out, my dog. What would you want your last words to be if you could choose them?  I don't know, haven't thought of it.  Guessing my family's there, in that case I'd want them to be "I love you so much." Can you sleep with the light on?  Only if I'm seriously tired. Would you ever have a bird as a pet?  Realistically, nah.  I wouldn't be able to handle to likely noise. Do you know someone who’s been cremated? Not to my knowledge. Do you like canopy beds? YESSSSS. What is your favorite animated movie? Probably "The Lion King." Have you ever been 'violated'?  I felt violated when Girt tried to make out with me when I in no way wanted it.  He for a second tried following me as I pulled away, and that's when I really felt violated. Have you ever put gum on the bottom of your desk/chair?  No, disgusting.  There's trashcans for a reason. Would you rather open a used clothing store or an antique store?  An antique store would be cool. Magenta, aqua, or coral?  Coral. Would you rather be a wedding photographer or a nature photographer?  Honestly, nature, but for income's sake, I'm aiming to be a wedding photographer.  I'd love both, though. Have you ever had an ulcer?  No. Have you ever felt like you were going to throw up while you were at school?  In kindergarten, I was running for the trashcan and threw up on the floor.  Whoops. What is your favorite type of donut? Cake and glazed. Have you ever walked through a labyrinth? No. Do you like avocado?  EW. What is your favorite kind of bear?  Pandas. If you have any piercings or tattoos, do you remember the name of the person who did them?  June Bugg did one of my tattoos.  I don't remember the others. Do you do that typical girl thing out in public where you have to have someone come into the bathroom with you? No, I'll go alone. What does your dad look like?  Super tan, black hair that's mostly gray by now, connected beard and mustache, brown eyes, tall. Do you like chicken soup? Not really. Do you like deviled eggs? NO EW. Do you keep your fingers on the home keys when you type?  Yes. What would you name your future son?  Probably Severin. When was the last time you used a regular telephone?  Been yeeeaaars.Do you like the moon or sun more?  The moon. Do you think dimples are ugly? Personally think they're real cute. Has your boyfriend/girlfriend ever stayed up with you all night? Not my current girlfriend, but an ex. Are you a paranoid person? Yup. Have you ever been in an inflatable bouncy house?  Yeah. Have you ever seen a nun in public?  No. Who was the last person to kiss you on the cheek?  Sara. Have you ever played in a waterfall?  No. What job would you NEVER take, even as a last resort?  Prostitution, for one. Who was the last person you sat beside at a restaurant?  Sara. Have you used Limewire before? Ha ha yeah. Is the taste of alcohol appealing to you?  Noooo.  If I ever drink, it has to be fruity and cover the taste well. What’d you last look up on YouTube?  A KittyKatGaming video because I knew Mark was in it lmao. Would you ever get a tattoo sleeve?  FUCK YES I WOULD.  I'm already planning on dedicating my entire right arm to things that relate to my recovery, so I could kinda design it into a sleeve. Do you have appreciation for graffiti?  It can be gorgeous and super creative.  Personally don't mind graffiti if it's not vandalizing a public-public place and isn't offensive. If you could learn a superpower in exchange for your memory would you do it? Definitely not. Do you know any TV shows’ theme songs by heart? Which ones? "That '70s Show" and "Supernatural." Have you ever gotten stitches? Twice. What’s your favorite music video at the moment?  "Cool Patrol" by NSP will always be the answer to this. Your take on one-night stands? Are they okay?  It's a no from me. Have you ever had sex outside? No. Have you ever needed to call the police? No. How do you feel about kettle cooked chips?  Ew. What strange food combinations do you thoroughly enjoy? My dad loves waffles with peanut butter and syrup, so I tried it when I was young.  It's AMAZING. Would you considered yourself to be well-exposed to life or sheltered?  Too exposed. If you’re in a relationship, how long have you been dating?  Six months. Have you ever played the game Halo?  No. Have you ever had to learn lines for a play/skit/movie?  Not that I remember. Can any of your friends sing very well?  Sara has a gorgeous voice. Have you ever been attacked by an animal?  No. Who did you dance with last?  Colleen. Can you speak in different accents?  British. Has anyone ever aimed a gun at you?  No. Have you ever been through a natural disaster?  Hurricanes. Have you ever been in a parade?  No. Have you ever had a dream where you could understand a foreign language?  No. Have you ever owned a beanbag chair?  Maybe? Are you a fan of retro things?  YES. Have you ever used pastels? Yes. Who was the last person you flipped off? Probably Colleen or Chelsea playfully. Would you consider yourself to be loyal? Very. Who was the last person you shared a bed with? Sara. Do you know anyone who has been abused?  Yes. What is your brother’s name?  Robert/Bobby. Did you ever go to daycare as a kid?  VERY briefly.  One of the adults hit me simply for going into the wrong room. Have you ever experienced a medical emergency?  Yes, when I passed out and got a concussion plus a deep wound in my chin.  And when I overdosed. Do you know anyone who has been to prison?  I don't think so. Do you have one of those removable hand-held shower heads?  Yes. How many burners does your stove have?  Four. When you go to a restaurant, do you prefer to sit at a booth or a table?  Booth. What’s something you think everyone should do/experience at least once in their life?  A different country.  Working towards that. What is the last compliment you received?  That my singing was pretty. /v\ Do you shower facing the water or away from it?  Away. Do you wash your body or hair first?  Hair. Do you put your name on your food coverings?  No. What is the most daring thing you’ve ever done?  Fly alone. Have you ever given to any charities?  Yes. What have you created that you are most proud of?  Some, imo, interesting OCs that I love like chilren. Who was your favorite Disney princess as a child?  Ariel. When did you do your first illegal activity?  When I was in middle school, downloading music. When did you lose your virginity?  I don't remember the age because at the time I didn't consider my virginity lost.  I'd guess 17-18. Do you like your boyfriend/girlfriend’s parents?  I LOVE THEM. Are you taller than your mom?  She's less than an inch taller than me. Where did you get your last bruise/cut from?  Bruise from working out on the floor, cut, idk. Is anyone over-protective over you?  Not really.  Mom's pretty protective, but not overly, I'd say. Have you ever had to call the cops on someone? No. Are your parents divorced?  Yes. Who do you think is the most attractive actor?  Johnny Depp. Are you good at wrapping presents?  NOOOOOO. Who were the last two boys to text you?  Dad and Girt. Are there certain things that can’t be joked about with you?  Yep. Have you ever read the Hunger Games series?  I read the first book. Are your lips soft?  Everyone who's kissed me has told me so, yet I think they're dry as fuck?? Your thoughts of long distance relationship?  Being in one, they're definitely hard, but SO damn worth it for when you actually see the person.  I think it's true that distance makes the heart grow fonder. Do you drink regular or diet sodas?  Regular, diet gives me a headache.

[allaboutwannaone-blog]

how i fell in love

character: sungwoon genre: slight angst, fluff word count: 1.6k author’s note: i feel like this really sucked but i have no idea how to rectify it and that sucks even more?? :((( btw I'm thinking of making this into a series with wanna one,,,, do y'all want to see it happen?! :0)

• to-do list:

• one. grab sooin’s files from professor yoon

• two. get two chai lattes for david tomorrow on the way to school

• three. send sungjae the chemistry class notes

• four. finish haejung’s part up for the literature task (deadline is tomorrow!!!!!!!)

• sighing in accomplishment, you scratched yet another task off the list. you’ve finally finished seven of them; you’ve helped chris order a table off etsy, printed out lena’s notes, tuned your guitar to lend it to jisook tomorrow afternoon and more.

• if anyone were to step in to your room at this point of time, they would slowly back out, utter a small prayer, and close the door quietly. post-it notes were strewn all over the place, your bed was even messier than how mama 2017 went down.

• the last time your mom called you for dinner was ages ago, and the pink-and-orange-streaked sky had now been replaced with a sea of a black and sparkling stars.

• this was a regular thursday night for you,,, despite having finished your work already in school, you were still huddled at your desk, busying yourself with the errands your classmates had entrusted you with

• even though that meant that you rarely had free nights, you just couldn’t seem to say no to them. besides, the grateful looks on their faces every time you helped them out (and occasional treats) would just make your day. (be gone, cheese!)

• but sometimes,, just like how it was today, it would do nothing but to suck the life out of you, and you could not help but to blame yourself for having such a submissive personality. you really wanted a break but you still had many assignments left and you were on,, the,, verge,, of,, death

• just then, your phone buzzed.

• sungwound: yo can i come over

• sungwound: why aren’t u replying me

• sungwound: i mean pft i won’t even need to get ur permission because ur parents love me but

• sungwound: i’m starting to think that u’ve been kidnapped

• sungwound: I’M GETTING WORRIED??1?!?!??!??

• sungwound: i’m wounded that u aren’t looking at my texts

• sungwound: k nvm i’m coming over in five mins, make sure u don’t die

• BUT because you were too engrossed in rearranging your notes for sungjae, you missed those texts and left your worried best friend, sungwoon to fend for himself///1/‘’1/

• and that was why when your door was flung open,, you were just like “m OM i’ll go down and eat a snack later iM fI NE!!!!”

• sungwoon, in a fighting stance: “i swear to god if you do not get your hands off that laptop in two seconds you might have to catch some hands”

• you turned around and jumped, hit your head on your ceiling, left a hole there and shot to the outer space

• jk but that literally was how shocked you were to see him

• but wo w sungwoon with fluffy pyjamas and and tousled hair?? an aesthetic concept that u’re totally digging 

• you also noticed that he had carried a duffel bag with him too

• you, squealing: “YOU’RE SLEEPING OVER?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?”

• him, in an equally high-pitched tone: “YES!!!!!!!!!!!!”

• he launched himself into your arms,, squealing gibberish and laughing (like how he did when jisung handed him his fairy wand in wanna one go)

• (0_0) (0o0) \(0o0)/ 1!!1!1!1!1!!1!1!1! <- your heart/mind at that moment

• after holding on to his soft body for a whole five minutes you pushed him off, telling him apologetically to give you twenty minutes to finish up your work.

• all while chanting *nope i do not like him, i’m a nun, i shall devote my life to my boy bands, i do not have an attachment to this amazingly beautiful boy* in your mind

• sungwoon, holding his hand to his heart and sprawled on the ground: *gasps in korean* *rolls up sleeves* look y/n, i’ve climbed hills and swam seas to finally reach your house,, and you’re telling me to mIN D MY OWN BUS INES S FO R 20 MINU TES!!!??!?!!? REALLY??!?!?! IN FRONT OF MY SALAD????

• you, focusing on your computer screen: firstly,, you live just a block away and secondly,, there ain’t no salad here hAh so CASE CLOSED

• and then it went surprisingly quiet for ten minutes,, and your sungwoon-o-meter told you that this was dangerous but hell nah your focus was just as strong as park seojoon’s in she was pretty btw great drama

• first attempt: just as you predicted, a few moments later, you found a small gummy bear right below your nostrils. “c’mere c’mere” he chanted, tickling your chin and trying to bribe you out of your sitting position.

• second attempt: “look (look) at (at) me (me)” tried to whip out his echoing talent but nuh-uh.

• third attempt: “i’M tELLiNg yOuR pAreNTS”

• finally giving up, he pulled up a chair next to you, quietly sifting through the contents on your table.

• just then, he noticed something.

• snatching the to-do list from your clutch, he read through it, the look on his face hardening.

• “what the hell is this?” he gritted his teeth, fixating his intense gaze on you. shocked and frightened at his sudden change in mood, you stumbled over your words. “e-erands f-for my f-friends?”

• he scoffed, “your friends? you call them your friends? they’re using you, for god’s sake.” he scanned through the list again, shaking his head and turning to you. “why can’t you see it? they are using you.”

• “n-no, they said they were busy.” you felt the need to stand up for your friends, especially since they looked like they’ve got so much on their plate when they pleaded with you, puppy-eyed look on their countenance.

• he closed his eyes, as though trying to steady his furious, short breaths. “believe me, i can guarantee you that all of them, who have given you these tasks, are either at a party, drinking, sleeping or watching netflix right now. in fact, haejung just posted a picture of her with her boyfriend half an hour ago.”

• whipping out his cell phone, he scrolled to her profile, confirming what he just said.

• “but-“

• “look, y/n. you have to understand this. you can’t keep helping people like that.” he reached for your shoulders, gaze boring into yours.

• “think of it this way. if everyone in the world only has one last glass of water to drink from, people who can’t take the thirst anymore will start sipping from their glass. and once they’ve downed the entire thing, if they are greedy, they’re going to ask others or more water. and people like you,” he pointed at you, his tone exasperated and furious.

• “people like you, who puts others before yourself, will give their water to them. i get that you’re magnanimous and will hate to see anyone feel down, but before you know it, your drink will be empty. you will be the one suffering, whilst they enjoy the water you’ve given them.”

• “i’m blessed to have such a kind-hearted person by my side but, i hate it that you’re so naive. why can’t haejung finish up her own part for the project? i know for one it’s because she knows that you’ll do it for her and not complain about it afterwards! didn’t you see sungjae watching anime during lessons just now? he should face the consequences of his own actions! and lena is just lazy to walk over to the library to print her stuff out. why are you wasting the ink for a thirty-page document for her when she can’t even be bothered to waste her time and get it done herself?” he rubbed his temples, pacing up and down the room.

• “you’re the smartest person i’ve ever seen, but you’re an idiot too. and you know what’s the worst kind of idiots in the world? kind idiots. because people will trample all over you and make you do their work. and i hate that you’re just that.”

• huffing, he walked to the end of the room, sliding open the balcony door and slamming it, going outside to clear his mind.

• and at this moment, while others would expect you to be mad at the seemingly offensive words he had spouted our, you found yourself feeling nothing of that sort.

• first came the intimidation. this was the first time he had shouted at you like that, and you were shocked at how mad he was. the five hours you’ve been friends with him, he had only bickered with you, getting frustrated sometimes. but never like this.

• then came the realization. that you were in fact, just a puppet made for people to drag and pushed around. that people you thought you knew and liked were now anything but what you thought of them. and that you should probably get yourself away from them as soon as possible, though it might just be the hardest thing ever.

• then came the great epiphany that

• holy feck,, you liked him. you liked sungwoon and tonight’s incident just confirmed and in fact, caused you to fall for him even more. this was the first time someone ever cared for you like that, and it was...strange.

• but nice.

• and warm.

• and comfortable.

• and makes your heart beat-box and do dub-step.

• snapping out of your daze, you placed your hand on your chest in a bid to calm your erratically beating heart down.

• just then, sungwoon came in. he shuffled towards you sheepishly, rubbing the nape of his neck and looking anywhere but you.

• “u-uhm, i’m sorry for shouting at you just now, you wanna put some face packs? i brought some from innisfree over. we can use those and w-watch a movie?”

• you, observing his handsome features that now seem to be more prominent to you: ......

• “i’ll teach you my skincare routine???”

[letters-to-kate]

we-sorts

I started out in this life writing a novel and ended up struggling to survive addiction, homelessness, and outright insanity. 

 When I was born apparently I had breathing problems. I was taken from my Mother by the nurses, and I believe my Godmother (Aunt Barbara) was there. My Mother was under the impression I didn't make it, as she recalls. My Father arrived late to the hospital, per his memory, to find hospital personnel awaiting. He asked of my status, and they told him supposedly that I was a 'miracle' baby....and that I had made it. This came as an alarm to my Mother when he informed her; she was under the notion I had died. This was a prelude of many miracles that would occur throughout my life...from winning lotteries, to surviving incomprehensible  car accidents…to deathly overdoses…through the survival of stabbings and assaults…enduring police beat downs and the resolute of child abusive cults.

 I have this memory, clearly, of my Mother rocking me to sleep at age 2, I believe. There are other memories of that living quarters in Laurel, Maryland. In Laurel, on the campus of Cedar Knoll child detention center where my Father worked as a supervisor. Memories of slamming my finger in the door and being rushed to get stitches. Memories of good ol’ Thornbird, our black and white spotted dog, running along the car. Memories of my parents living in poverty. I believe my brothers were both in attendance in Catholic school then. My two older brother siblings, Mark and George, are both 6 and 9 years older than me, respectively. I remember my Father taking me to his work at Cedar Knoll detention center, where he was a counselor; seeing Black children locked behind doors and screaming and yelling 'Mr.George! Mr.George!' I remember those metal office desks...the aluminum tiled floors....the bars on windows....the smell of institution. 

 An odor I would soon know all too well, permanent and familiar within my nostrils.

 I remember my Mother and Father placing me in the back of the car at 4 am, driving my Mother to Spring Grove state hospital where she’d work as a nurse. I couldn't have been more than 2 or 3 years of age. At a young age, I was made to feel comfortable around the aroma of jails and mental institutions. These are faint dark memories....poor lighting...the ability to distinguish between human and animal urine; and this is the life I was born into.

 My Father was an honorable man...didn't chase women...didn't chase liquor...so we had some money. He in his spare time aside of counseling troubled youth, drove a taxi. As a young lad, prior to marrying my Mother, my Father studied for years in Seminary to become a priest. I would see these black and white pictures of him in his  Jesuit priest collar, standing at protest rallies in the 60's; always positioned with other Black folks.

 My Father is fair-skinned Irish; 2nd or 3rd generation I believe. My Mother is a brown-skinned Black Woman, originally from poverty-stricken Portsmouth, Virginia, but raised in the ghettos of West Philly. My timeline could be off, but he either met her and they subsequently left the Catholic order, and then got married. Or they both left the order prior to marriage. Though I know my oldest brother George was held in arms as they marched down the aisle.  I say 'order' because my Mother had previously been enrolled in a Philadelphia monastery as a nun. I have some images in my mind of black and white pictures of her in convent.

I realized at a young age, quite young, this emotion of pain. I remember when we moved to Columbia, Maryland…a suburb…that we lived in a low-income complex called Hannibal Grove. I recall my Mother having to tie the outside door handle of my room’s door and fasten it to another door across the hall, just to keep me from opening my bedroom door; I was that out of control. I was hyperactive; and looking back now, I realize I was in pain.

Pain is not just subjective (one man’s pain may be another man’s pleasure), but it is, in fact, exact.

It reveals so much about a person; perhaps that is the purpose of torture and why it is performed upon prisoners of war.

Take for example a pin prick. Elizabeth, an old junkie girlfriend of mine, who has since passed, had a severe phobia of needles. Yet she shot dope with the best of us in the East Side projects of Baltimore.

That’s one of the purposes of pain: to wake us up to the reality that we are all of God. It stings. God feels.

I was involved in People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) when I was a teenager; had stopped eating meat…was into vegetarian extremist Industrial music groups like ‘Skinny Puppy’, and I practically worshipped Morrissey. I remember my Father introduced me to a co-worker of his who was active in PETA, and she gave me literature. What I learned from that school of thought is that animals have spines, nervous systems, brains… and they feel pain….so why eat meat? We are meant to evolve to a place in our World where eating meat will become unnecessary.

Throughout my elementary school years I was increasingly sensitive, and just bad. Stubborn behavior, hyperactivity, disobedience, and rage. I didn’t understand the judgement of the White kids I grew up around. Like so many kids, I was hyper growing up; mostly because I felt out of place. I grew up in the first (supposedly) planned multi-cultural suburb in America…Columbia, Maryland. I was born in Washington D.C.  

I grew up pretty interracially, amalgamated with a lot of rich White kids, Jewish kids, and a host of Black kids who were pocketed into the ‘”poor”’ neighborhoods….Rideout Heath is the first neighborhood that comes to mind. These were the public housing developments along Harper's Farm Road, Cedar Lane and Twin Rivers Road, known as Fall River Terrace, Roslyn Rise, Waverly Winds and Rideout Heath; we use to call these areas as "The Terrace", "The Rise", "The Winds" and "The Heath".  But c’mon man, what I saw in real poverty on the raw streets of  Baltimore years later, makes all that suburban stuff seem like paradise.

But you know what’s real wild, is that in the most integrated suburban community in America (at that time), we were still made to feel uncomfortable walking through the ‘Black neighborhoods.’ Don’t get me wrong, I ain’t live with the rich White kids or anything, though I ran with them. I grew up getting’ rejected by the pretty White girls; befriended, yet judged by the White kids I dropped acid with, and got my ass beaten by the Black kids. And that scenario stretches as far back as I can remember. I remember being in 2nd grade….kindergarten even…and walking back home and getting beat up at the bridge by Sterling Davis and Edward Simpson, and their crew. I know I was getting picked on because my hair was weirdly straight and curly. I knew they picked on me because I was a punk….who was frightened.

I just didn’t know what was going on around me! I mean, c’mon, imagine having a White father, where one of my earliest memories of him was winking at me across the kitchen table over dinner, and how weirded out I felt. My Pops talked Black and what not (what White folk term ‘Ebonics’), and acted uniquely urban. I didn’t get why my White father sounded like the Black kids who were beating me up at age 5, instead of sounding like my White friend’s parents. I even remember years later my the mother of my girlfriend, Maggie Bennings, upon meeting my  Pops, asked him, “Gee, are you from the South with that accent?” And my Pops answering, “Naw, I just grew up in the city and in Washington D.C. over the years.”

 So you see, color and pain became important to me, because my parents never stopped to explain it. I remember when I was in some uncontrollable state in my teenage years blaming them for making me mixed. But it’s all good. Why? Because they were pioneers man! My Father supposedly turned away from his fairly wealthy Irish family in Connecticut. He’s the older of his two younger brothers. He frickin’’ went and joined the seminary I believe at age 15 or so! Almost became a Jesuit Priest for Christ’s sake! And I can’t live down these pictures in my mind of him in his Priest collar. He was a part of this real secular sect of Catholicism, called The Josephite Fathers and Brothers. They are an Order of Roman Catholic Priests and Brothers serving the African American community. I mean, that’s wild, right?

I got these pictures of him standing in front of a segregated Black school in Prince Georges County, Maryland, like back in the early 60’s and stuff. He’s always surrounded himself with Black folk, and had what seemed to be a natural affinity to Black people.

 What’s real wild is this time he informed me of a particular community of Black folks in Maryland called ‘We-Sorts.’ Some Black folks take offense to it, but I just don’t know the proper ‘PC’ term. He pointed out these kids in the old black ‘n white pictures he had, and they were standing in front of an old segregated school house where my Dad would teach, along with my Dad and some other Black brothers of his Priesthood. These kids in these pictures I was referring all looked White!...in segregated Southern Maryland in the 60s!  I mean blue eyes, and blonde hair! My  Pops said, “Naw – them kids ain’t Black….These kids here are ‘We-Sorts. They’re Black folks who kept to themselves and would mate within their own families to keep light skinned.”

I was floored.

I mean, I learned in African-American history class at Atholton High about the ‘favored mulatto’ and all that. But this blew my mind. I remember showing the pictures to my brother George and trying to re-explain it, and he couldn’t believe it either. 

 My Aunt Essie, who is a retired nurse, told me stories of how these White kids would get rushed into the ER at the hospital she worked back in the day, and they would come in with acute sickle cell anemia attack. She said the doctors and staff knew right then and there, that they were ‘We-Sorts,’ and not White kids.

 I said all that to say this: color matters….and so does pain. And this age-old‘We-sorts’ practice of genetic emulsification of Black folks (saving the lighter skinned offspring of a family in order to mate with other light skinned family members), fascinated me to no end. My Mother would tell me how there were whole large families that were known to engage in this practice (The Proctors, etc.).

 I found out later through the teachings of the Honorable Elijah Muhammad that this practice was much bigger and critically more relevant to the Western color condition, and its associated pain of the masses, than I could’ve ever imagined…and it had everything to do with White folks.

I don’t know, just thanks for letting me write to you.