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#lo res car
evilcokito · 11 months
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Cherry Coke for Divus 💖👀🏎
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DIVUS CREWEL X CHERRY COKE X FERRARI F40)?
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zan-77 · 1 year
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. Mirror to Mirror; Face to Face .
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anxiously-awaiting · 2 years
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i should be doing real things but instead i am violently trying to draw aggra(vaine) and lam(orak) [train sound covers up my words] but i hate drawing cars so much and im bad at Understanding the proportion of people to objects/backgrounds
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cod-z · 1 month
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What Could've Been
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Sadness is pouring onto me and one of the people I'm following answered a question and just said that if Price gets a canon wife, it'll break them... I- same? Like with all 141- and the others, like they're my boys...
Probably will re-write it (it was a bit rushed/is rushed)
TW: Angst/No Comfort, Mentions of being kidnapped, Ex-Poly Relationship (if you squint your eyes enough)
| One-shots |
Reblog & Likes are appreciated 🥀
Standing at the doors of the base that hid from society yet near to it that you watch, your team, your friends, your boys leave the through the doors and into their cars, half getting lifts and exiting the base. You lean against the door frame as you watch them show their cards to the guards, your hand clenching the frame tighter as they drive off into different directions, a small smile plastering your face as you heart clenches it pain and jealousy.
How you envy...
How you envy the people that they've married.
How you envy the mothers that had birthed their children.
How you envy their partners that stays with them... forever.
You leave door frame, a single, warm tear roll down your cheek as your smile flatters as you walk through the barracks, heading towards the offices of your team, peeking into their now empty rooms and reminiscing the special moments you had shared with each of them.
You heart aches.
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You enter the office of Price.
It had changed over the years that you had gone missing, kidnapped by a cartel.
You entered his room with the spares keys, grazing your hands against the dark oak of his desk, tracing the small nooks and crannies, the dents, the small burnt circles from his cigars, rounding the table until your stood behind it. Taking his scent that seemed to have fade already even when he had just left with the others, you solemnly give a small smile as you look at a picture frame.
You and the squad, gathered with Los Vaqueros, smiling like idiots before you all parted ways.
That was the last you had seen them before everything had went to a spiral.
You touch the edge of the frame before seeing another one next to it, it was a picture of Price, his wife and his little girl, Vivian. Your heart clenched tightly in your chest as you bite back a sob, eyeing the picture, seeing his gentle, reassuring smile that he held towards you all your time in 141. His arm wrapping around his wife's waist while she carried their... his daughter with a bright smile. All of them smiling at you as if mocking you of what could have been.
That could've... should've been you.
You looked down at his... your, desk.
Blinking away the tears, your visions clears as only the frame of your old team sat in front of you, you clocked your eyes around the room seeing your things in there rather than Price's. Right.
It's been 3 years since they have retired to their families, you grab out your phone and checked your social media, scrolling through their posts, carefully trying not to accidentally like any of them. Checking your messages and personal direct messages, you have yet to read or reply, completely cutting them off ever since they had told you what had happened.
What could've been...
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Laughs echoed round the table in the bar as you tell a joke, even getting Simon to give a deep chuckle from his chest.
Price patting your back while giving you that charming smile he always held towards you four, making you feel proud that you had made them happy within your presence and humour that you don't pay attention to what Price had to say or Soap's flirtation towards you.
You just smile at your team, your boys.
Yeah, your boys, you thought to yourself, always will be.
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A/N: Bit rushed, just didn't want to cry is all XD
Divider Credit(s): @saradika
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genericpuff · 7 months
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yeah so let's talk about the scenes between hades and thanatos that went from being goofy "haha a boss being hard on an employee" 'jokes' to child abuse as soon as it was revealed that hades was thanatos' adoptive father
and yes i'm putting a content warning jump for ❗❗❗ child abuse and neglect ❗❗❗
so first off, before we even get into the Thanatos / Hades father son relationship thing, I wanna mention a sequence in Episode 39 and why I think Rachel included the scene of Hades reaming Thanatos for being bad at his job.
And it's simply because of what happens the episode before.
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Persephone's ableism aside (seriously, I have legs, that doesn't mean I want to walk everywhere, I also own a car, that doesn't mean I have to drive everywhere, maybe flying is tiring? Maybe he's injured and shouldn't be flying? Maybe he has a disability that results in him having wings that can't fly? Check yourself Persephone 😒) this is one of the earliest signs of LO's "Revenge for Persephone" problem which is CONSTANT throughout the narrative - that anytime Persephone is slighted or inconvenienced in the slightest, then the narrative needs to ensure there's some kind of revenge, either directly for her sake or indirectly for the audience's, and it's often always facilitated through or by Hades.
And that leads us to Episode 39, which is when we get exactly that.
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Moving onto the scene itself, this is what we call in the work environment a "dressing down". This is not how legitimate employee reviews are given. Hades is not planning on giving him any sort of formal review or constructive criticism. He's planning on tearing him a new asshole just for the fun of doing so. You can even see it written on his face. He's doing this just for the joy of tearing him down. As someone who's been subject to this kind of behavior in previous work environments, I can assure you that this is not normal behavior that's indicative of a functioning workplace, this is abuse.
Taking that train scene into account, it's a way to indirectly "avenge" Persephone. She was slighted by Thanatos, so now Hades is going to make his life hell. But here's the thing - this not revenge for Persephone's sake. Hades doesn't even know Persephone's in the building, and Persephone doesn't know that Thanatos is being berated by Hades. But the scene is here anyways because of course the audience needs to feel "better" about Persephone getting pushed by a stranger at the train stop.
Now, scenes like this have been done in other stories, often times to explain the behavior of bullies/aggressors/etc. because in many cases, textbook bullies, whether children or adults, are abusing others because they're being abused by a higher authority so they take it out on those "weaker" than them.
But this doesn't work in LO, for several reasons.
First off, it pretty much plays it off like a joke, especially when the scene continues after Persephone has walked into Tower 4.
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But beyond that, the higher authority abusing Thanatos is someone we're expected to root for. He's the main love interest. While this could be written as a legitimate character flaw, we all know now, in the year 2023, that Rachel sees Hades' behavior as a feature, not a bug. While most scenes written like this would cast a new perspective on a bully and allow some room for understanding and empathy from the audience, in LO's case, we're still not expected to empathize with Thanatos here, they want us insulting him right alongside Hades.
And of course, that brings us to the big blue elephant in the room - the knowledge of Hades and Thanatos' relationship completely re-contextualizes these scenes in a way that's far too depressing and horrifying for a writer like Rachel to be able to wrap up confidently.
Of course, she tried, but her efforts... can't even really be called efforts. For starters, because a lot of it is played off as a joke, as if Rachel can't handle even a single moment of legitimate emotion, she has to "write off the awkward" by making things "funny".
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But when she does try to seriously write these scenes of introspection, reflection, and communication, it just winds up turning into the main protagonists going "woe is me, I was the real victim!" and never actually suffering consequences for their actions as a result as they Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss their victims into apologizing to them. It still isn't asking us to empathize with or side with Thanatos, it wants us to end up right back at square one supporting Hades' side of the story.
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Literally "well you weren't that bad, at least you were there!" bare minimum accountability, followed by "well I didn't make your life easy so I get it" from someone who was literally a child who was abandoned and left to live with an abusive asshole. It wasn't his fault that he was in the situation he was in, it wasn't his fault that he was a "handful" for Hades because he was a CHILD and Hades was the ADULT, but the comic paints it as Thanatos being at fault anyways for being "ungrateful".
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But there are even more subtle signs that point to Thanatos' childhood with Hades that, while not specifically mentioning it, do paint a pretty nasty picture of how Thanatos views Hades and the people around him as a result of his childhood, in a very fridge horror "stop and think about it" kind of way.
First of all, the fact that Thanatos hasn't even been allowed to touch Hades' car. Obviously he's referring to specifically driving it but it makes me wonder what kind of bare minimum accommodations Hades made for his own adopted son. Again, played off for a joke.
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And of course we have this one piece of concept art-
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Now to be fair, this is concept art from before it was retconned that Thanatos was Hades' son, but it still casts an icky implication in hindsight both because of Hades' treatment towards Thanatos as well as the implication that Thanatos was getting "too close" to Persephone for Hades' liking. This sort of weird dynamic can be found in the actual comic when Hades admits he knows Thanatos was sleeping with Minthe.
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And then there was this one scene, which prompted me to write this post in the first place, shared in the ULO Discord.
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Thanatos has just met Daphne, so it's not necessarily weird for him to be suspicious of her asking for his phone, but the actual dialogue... doesn't line up with what you'd assume he would be suspicious of.
He doesn't say "you're not going to peek through it, are you?"
He specifically says "You're not going to smash it, are you?"
Now, if this line were intended to be anything more than some throwaway "haha funny" line (which, again, where's the punchline here) then maybe it could point more to something that happened between him and Minthe. But there's nothing that implies she was ever violent towards him, and the one time she IS violent towards anyone, it's implied that's the first and only time she's ever escalated things to that point and that even she's shocked and disgusted at her own behavior.
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There is plenty to imply that Thanatos was abused by Hades, though.
So reading this line in hindsight... really just feels like further proof on a growing pile of evidence that Thanatos was constantly being berated, controlled, and abused by Hades, a guy who he never asked for as a father figure, but was still expected to apologize to anyways.
But there is one last thing I wanna mention before I wrap up. One thing that was mentioned by yet another user in the ULO community that really stood out to me because it just goes to show how horrible Hades has been towards Thanatos, both in the past pre-retcon and in the present well after it was established that they were father and (adopted) son.
And that's Hades' two dream sequences that involve him having children with Persephone.
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One of these scenes is from before the retcon. The other is from after.
Neither one features Thanatos as a part of Hades' visions for the future.
Hades has been Thanatos' entire life. But Hades doesn't see Thanatos as even a part of his.
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Random KISS Facts
(That nobody asked for)
Gene
The first time Gene spit fire, he caught his hair on fire
Back in the beginning of KISS, Gene would do a trick with flash paper, but one night his aim was off and the paper blew up in a kid’s face
Paul
During the Hotter Than Hell photoshoot, Paul got so drunk, that Gene had to lock him in the station wagon to keep Paul from hurting himself
Ace
Ace punched Tommy Thayer in the face when he (Tommy) was manager, over Ace having his girlfriend in the dressing room
Ace Frehley almost drowned twice. Once in a hotel bathtub and another time in a pool. Gene saved him both times
A day before the Hotter Than Hell photo shoot, Ace got in a bad car accident and split one side of his face open so. Because of this, Ace couldn’t wear that side of his makeup, so all the shots were profiles
Around 2000, Ace Frehley missed a flight to a concert in Los Angeles and the band got manager Tommy Thayer ready to fill in for Frehley, in costume and makeup. Frehley made it to the show at the last minute via helicopter ride from LAX to the venue
Peter
Peter Criss hardly played during the Reunion/Farewell tour, so they put an amplifier on his drums to make it sound like he was actually playing. That’s why a lot of the crew members would say “don’t sneeze around Peter’s drum set”
Eric C.
After the Dynasty tour was over, Peter Criss left the band. So, after KISS announced his departure, they held auditions for a new drummer and selected Paul Carvello, later renamed Eric Carr
When Eric Carr had to sing “Beth” he called Peter to make sure he (Peter) was ok with him singing his song
When Eric Carr recorded his vocal for the re-recording of “Beth” in 1988, he sat on the same drum stool that Peter Criss used during the original recording of the song in 1976
KISS’s late drummer Eric Carr’s collar on his 1980 “fox” costume was made out of real fox fur
In Paul’s book Face the Music he says that “When the tour stopped in Manhattan for two gigs at the Ritz, Eric Carr came to one of the shows and sat in the balcony with his head resting on the railing through the entire show. Afterwards he came backstage, and out of left field, turned to Eric Singer, and said, ‘You’re going to replace me.’ ‘What are you talking about?’ I spoke. ‘He’s going to replace me in KISS,’ said Eric Carr, nodding at Eric Singer. ‘Listen, Eric, you’re the drummer in KISS, and he’s the drummer of my solo band.’” But as fate would have it, Eric Singer was the perfect fit
Tommy
March 11, 2000, through April 13, 2001, was the Reunion/Farewell Tour with Ace and Peter. Tommy Thayer was KISS’ tour manager at the time, and he had to retrain Ace and Peter all their parts, because they hadn’t played in years. It proved to be difficult, and Tommy almost gave up. But with the reassurance of Paul, he managed to reteach Ace and Peter all their parts
Album/Song Facts
Cannons were recorded and mixed into KISS Alive! to mimic the pyrotechnics that didn’t come through the microphones correctly
Alive! was recorded in multiple different cities with crowd audio combined to make the crowd sound bigger. Alive! was mainly recorded in Detroit
At one point KISS almost went under because Neil Bogart (KISS’ manager) had maxed out his credit card. With the combination of the special effects, levitating drum set (that seldom ever worked), the exploding drumsticks, and Neil’s gambling issue, the band almost went under, but when Alive! went Platinum, it saved the group
On Dynasty Anton Fig played on the tracks except for “Dirty Livin’,” written, and played by Criss even though he wasn’t involved in its production, Peter was still credited on drums, which left Anton Fig uncredited
Psycho Circus was the first album to involve all four original members (though Ace Frehley and Peter Criss only appeared on a select few tracks). "You Wanted the Best" is the only KISS song in which lead vocals are shared by the entire lineup
The radio news announcer at the start of “Detroit Rock City” is KISS’ producer Bob Ezrin. The main news report featured a fatal car accident, and is the backstory of the song, which was based on a reportedly true event that happened to a teen on his way to Detroit KISS concert in 1975
Paul’s yodeling at the beginning of “Heaven’s on Fire” is him warning up. He didn’t realize the camera was rolling, but they decided to keep it in the video
A number of songs from Crazy Nights were performed live during its supporting tour, but during and especially immediately following the tour, most of those songs were dropped and were never performed again
The famous song “Rock and Roll All Nite” was inspired by Slade’s “Mama Weer All Crazee Now”
Towards the end of the Reunion/Farewell tour, fans were shocked to see Eric Singer in full Catman costume and makeup, meaning Peter left the band again for the final time
During the music video for “Heaven’s on Fire” Eric Carr pops up behind Paul, and Paul looks at him for a split second before looking back at the camera. Eric did that randomly. It wasn’t planned. Paul’s reaction was genuine
Other
Neil Bogart came up with Peter’s levitating drum set and his exploding drumsticks
The KISS logo is altered in Germany because of the similarities to the Nazi S
Early in KISS’ career, Larry Harris worked an endorsement deal with Gibson guitars, and they provided free guitars that Paul could smash. In exchange, KISS put Gibson on the back of their album covers
Peter “Moose” Oreckinto, a KISS roadie in the early days, was loading Peter Criss’ exploding drumsticks, when one went off, causing a hole in his hand, his chin and his stomach. This accident almost caused Moose to lose his hand, but doctors were able to save it
KISS was nominated for a Grammy in 1999 for Best Hard Rock Performance for their song “Psycho Circus.” (It lost to “Most High” by Page and Plant of Led Zeppelin fame)
Despite the band’s massive 1970s success and again in the late 1990s, Rolling Stone magazine refused to put KISS on its cover until the band’s 40th anniversary in 2013
KISS refused to play shows in their early days without their trademark giant lighted logo. In some venues, its size required it to be stood up on the side of the stage instead of hanging above it
KISS has had ten members during its 50-year existence. Paul Stanley is reportedly the only member to have participated in every song released
The KISS Army started in Indiana when a local radio station refused to play any KISS songs in the early ‘70s. Protesting fans marched outside of the radio station forcing the radio station to play KISS
Facts are continually added
Tagging: @genesstankycodpiece, @solfihelpmi, @ericsingerisababycat, @foxykissworld, @spacefoxy, @sillyamyy, @ericcarrsworshipper, @2000-man1, @tanookikiss, @sluttery-withoutshame, & @daddycatcriss
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habaaa · 6 months
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Hey everyone, I was doing some research in AO3, and I found out some HCs w reader of the boys (except Lamar, for me some reason it's really hard to find content of him).
All credits go to herbertwestsleftsock on AO3 on their book "another night in Los Santos", if you can, go and show them some love!
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Franklin:
He likes cuddling, though he'd never admit it
Throughout the day he'll give you kisses on the cheek or forehead, or he'll hold your hand in the car or at home. It's not that he doesn't want to show PDA with you, he just doesn't really think about it too much
If you're ever out in public, you'll have his hand on your waist. He's not super protective but he'll show anyone who flirts with you enough body language to make them back off
Franklin's favorite thing to do with you is ride through the city and listen to music, just silently enjoying each other's company. He likes talking, just wants to enjoy the surroundings even if he's seen it a lot before
He really likes seeing you excited about something, and he'll encourage you go after it
Trevor:
He doesn't really show affection, like soft kinds in public. He might hold your hand sometimes, but usually he's smacking your ass or making sex jokes
Trevor is constantly telling you all the shit he wants to do, and your pasttime includes drinking on the roof of his trailer and hoping it's stable enough to hold both your weight
He'll take you on outings for his "business" but you'll just end up hanging out with Wade while him and Ron go and kill someone idk
Trevor is actually very affectionate, when you're alone he'll be clinging on to you and kissing all over
He'll constantly ask if you want to get married, saying he wants kids, that kind of stuff, but you're never sure if he means it or not
Michael:
Amanda isn't necessarily stoked about her ex husband seeing someone else in her home, but she doesn't care enough to tell you two to leave, just stares at the two of you from across the room and mumbles angrily about it
Michael's never been good with genuine signs of affection. He hasn't felt it since his first re-I mean, when he started his relationship with Amanda, and it's been years since he's gotten to express his feelings through words and actions. Don't expect your first time holding hands or kissing in public to be super frequent or early on
He'll often invite you out on the porch with him to smoke and drink, and one of those times is when you first kiss
He likes running his hands through your hair and resting his head against your forehead. Gives him a sense of ease, which he doesn't get often
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Okay, that's all, remember to go and support herbertwestsleftsock on AO3 and read their book "another night in los santos" see you then :)
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softstarlite · 2 months
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The Casualty of Love
CHAPTER 5
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Summary: He's back home. You have almost forgotten how warm his eyes were and how big your crush for him was.
Warnings: Age gap (Javi is 40 and reader is 27), smut, oral f!receiving, fingering, unprotected P in V (don't be stupid like them and wrap it up), reader is on the pill, creampie, slight praise link, some cockiness from both Javi and reader, yet again another interruption from the icon itself Chucho in an important moment. (Let me know if I missed any warnings)
Rating: +18 (explicit)
Word Count: 2.9K
Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Masterlist
A/N: Here you guys have chapter 5. This is my first time ever writing smut so I would gladly take constructive criticism, please be nice about it :-) Hope you guys like it!! Love you amores and thank you for being patient! I made it a little longer to compensate <3 <3
Divider by @saradika
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You arrive at the Peña ranch around 4 pm; as you get out of your car you see that Chucho is exactly where you knew he'll be, sitting on the porch with a beer in his hand, enjoying his well earned break from the ranch chores.
“Hey viejito!” you greet him while closing the car door.
“Oh hi mija!” he greets back, raising the beer bottle towards you “Again here? Vamos a tener que empezar a pagarte (we'll have to start paying you)” he chuckles.
“Sabe que nunca se lo aceptaría (you know i'd never accept it) I love helping here, been doing since i could walk” you send him a playful wink, both of you knowing that back then you were playing more than helping but Chucho would've never complain about it, he adored having you around.
He laughs, takes his hat off and fans himself with it “true, true. Well then go along honey, you can help Javi feed the horses at the barn, así se resguarda del este jodido calor (that way you'll shelter yourself from this damn heat)”
You give him a quick nod “Ay, Ay, captain” you say signaling with two fingers at your forehead and then turning around and walking towards the barn. Once inside you close the door behind you, so the heat wouldn't come inside and bother the horses. You see the horses already munching the hay away, but you already knew that's what you´d be finding when coming in here; you take off your boots and leave them where you´ll remember it. You climb to the upper part of the barn and then you finally see what, or better, who you were looking for.
Javi is there sitting on a bale of hay, looking down at the watch on his wrist, the action making the hat over his head shelter the face that you like so much from you. You sometimes can't help asking yourself how he didn't get killed while on the DEA with how easy it was for you to sneak up on him. You decide to lean on a wooden pillar and cross your arms over your chest then you clear your throat making Javier´s head shoot up.
“God, finally…” he groans but you´re not sure if it's from annoyance or the noise his knees make when he gets up from the bale.
“You´re too dramatic, i'm only a few minutes late” you instantly smile as soon as his whole presence envelops you when he comes in front of you putting his hands on your waist.
“Haven't you heard that time is gold” he says looking you up and down. You can't help but to roll your eyes even if the smile on your face doesn't disappear.
Your hands travel to the front of his short sleeved red button up where you fist the fabric and make him lean on you to link your lips with his. While your tongues get acquainted with each other, his hands travel to your hips and then to your ass, where he squeezes it and groans into your mouth then pulls away from it.
“Cariño, couldn't you have worn one of those pretty dresses I love? It would make this so much easier and quicker” he says with almost desperation in his eyes.
“Sure, Javi, cause me coming to the ranch to help with chores in a dress would be veeeery believable” you say while unbuttoning his shirt and running a hand over every bit of his chest that is revealed.
“Bebita, I'm sure that with you flashing just one of your gorgeous smiles would be enough for my pops to not question anything you do” he says while working on the button and zipper of your denim shorts.
You both don't say anything more about it, especially now that Javi has made work of your shorts and has pulled them down your legs, making you step out of them.
He groans when he sees your lacy underwear, still kneeling from helping you out of your shorts “Fuck cariño, you wore these just for me?” he runs a finger under the waistband of your lace panties from one hip to the other while looking up to you with dark eyes. You just nod while inevitably biting your lower lip.
He curses once more and takes the waistband of the lacy underwear with his two hands now and starts to drag it down your legs without taking his eyes from you. The speed in which he makes the action is utterly torture.
“Javi…” you whine with more neediness in your voice than you intended.
“Paciencia cariño (Patience sweetheart)” he says while making eye contact with the wetness between your legs. He's not sure if he is torturing you or him more; with the way his cock was tenting his jeans, he would guess the answer is himself.
He traces your folds with two fingers, you sigh in relief immediately even if It still didn't feel like enough.
In the past two weeks since the barbecue at Doña Lucia´s, you and Javi have been finding little moments to indulge in each other, you both even had a chance to have something similar to a date when Chucho asked Javi a week ago if he could pick up some things from a nearby town that he had ordered and you offered yourself immediately to help him, showing a big concern for Javi´s back in chance for some alone time away from the worry of getting caught. You guys talked all the way there, getting to know the people you had become during your time apart, after picking up what you went there for, he insisted to buy you lunch, so you did, and to finish on the way back to Laredo you had to stop on the side of the road because you both didn't want to end the day without feeling each other in every way possible.
When Javi´s mouth finally makes contact with you, you have to press a hand over your mouth to silence the moan coming from it, your other hand finding home in his hair. Every time Javi touched you in any way you could swear you would die but at the same gave you more life, it was like anything that you ́ve ever felt in your entire life.
“Fuck, cariño, the sweetest thing I´ve ever had” he says looking up into your eyes when he detaches from you to bring two fingers to your entrance.
Your eyes roll back and your hand leaves your face to cling the wooden pillar behind you.
“What, el gato te comió la lengua, cariño? (did the cat eat your tongue, sweetheart?)” he says to you with a fucking smirk that you are going to wipe out of his face. You bring your left foot up, bringing it to his crotch that you rub with it. As soon as you do it, the smirk on his face disappears into an open mouth, breathing heavily.
“Te ha comido la lengua el gato, Javi? (Has the cat eaten your tongue, Javi?)” you use his own teasing back at him, trying to give him a smirk but when he moves his fingers deeper into you, only a moan comes out of your lips.
“I'm sorry, what was that sweetheart?” the smirk comes back to his face but not as big as before, more open mouthed. Your hand goes from his curls to his forearm to grip it, you´re not even sure if to keep him there or to pull him away.
“F-fuck Javi…” you close your eyes and push your head back into the wooden pillar. You know Javi has now stood up from his kneeling position, not just from the sound his knees make but also because the action makes your foot fall to the ground.
“Uh-uh bebita” he takes your chin with his free hand, bringing your head back towards him, which makes you open your eyes “eyes on me hermosa, eyes on me” he instructs you and of course you obey, like you had any other option right now, like you would choose any other option.
You just nod however you can with your chin still in his hand, and moan.
“Now i want you to come on my fingers before i fuck you, okay bebita?” he says without taking his eyes away from yours, and you could swear you could come just by looking at them. You, obviously, nod once more, and then you feel his thumb make contact with your clit, circling it with the perfect amount of pressure. In the little time that two weeks are, Javier has somehow learned how to take you apart at the speed he wishes every single time.
You start to feel that knot forming in your lower stomach, making you lean your forehead into his “I'm so close baby…” you are able to somehow form the words even if you can promise that your mind is lost completely.
“Deja que pase hermosa (let it happen beautiful), i got you” the pressure on your clit increases and that's what makes the knot unravel. Javi has to kiss you to silence the beautiful sounds that you´re making. He stops the movements of his fingers inside of you but he doesn't stop the movements over your clit, helping you come down off your high.
As soon as his hand leaves your cunt, you´re reaching for his belt, trying to unbuckle it with way too eager hands.
Javi can´t help to chuckle teasingly “that needy for my cock bebita?” he asks you with a raised eyebrow.
“If you prefer it, I can just get my shorts back up and leave, and you deal with this” you say, introducing a hand inside his jeans, finding no underwear under them as always, and grabbing his cock “by yourself” you say with smugness.
He grunts and helps you pull his jeans down his legs; he then pulls up your tank top so it rests over your breasts and brings one of them to his mouth while one of his hands brings your left leg to his hip, to make room for himself.
“I'm not going to last very long today, cariño” he informs you while his fingers roll one of your pebbled nipples between them.
“Good, cause I'm sure we don't have much more time left” you grab his wrist to look at his watch which confirms your words, then you grab his butt with both hands and push him towards you so he gets the message.
He finally does it; he leaves your nipples and grabs himself, bringing it to your cunt and pushing into you, making you stretch so delicious, just like every time. You both let out a big breath and stay still to get used to the godly feeling.
After a few seconds, he starts to move, at first at a slow pace that makes you feel every inch of him caress your walls; then, when he groans in your ear and bites your shoulder, he begins to thrust at a killing pace.
“Fuck cariño, you feel too good” he moans and grips your hips with a strength that you know will leave bruises because it has already happen several times in the last two weeks “I need you to come again on my cock before i come, you think you can do that for me bebita?”
Before Javi, you were lucky if a guy would make you come once during sex, most of your orgasms would come from your own hands or from your trusted vibrator; but since your first time with Javier you were surprise to see that what gives him more pleasure is to give you it, he made sure each time to make you come at least once, which normally wasn't enough for him.
Your heart had already made the decision of giving Javi everything that his own heart desired if it was in your hands, so you really didn't have a chance to say no.
You sneak a hand in between your bodies and bring it to your clit, where you rub in circles, to help yourself concede his wish. Between that and the amazing feeling of him drilling into you, you start to feel that knot tightening again. You moan once and knowing that they were more to come from how close to the edge you feel, you bring one of Javi´s hands to your mouth to cover it and then put your free hand on his curls, gripping them which makes him moan himself as you've learnt.
“I can feel how close you are cariño, pussy´s choking me, come on bebita come on, be a good girl and soak my cock” it's his filthy mouth that makes the knot unravel again and your second orgasm blinds you for a moment, your walls clenching around him, pulling him with you, making him groan and moan as he still as deep he can go inside of you and paints your walls. Thank god to the person that invented the pill.
Javi´s hand leaves your mouth as soon as your jaw relaxes; he rests his forehead in yours while you both try to catch your breath. You peck his lips and chuckle “better every single time, somehow” he chuckles as well at your statement.
Javier feels wrong every time he's not able to give you any proper aftercare… Even in Colombia, his informants would get a few seconds of cuddling and a washcloth if they asked for it, and you definitely meant more to him than any informant ever did.
You both get dressed again, you help him with his jeans so he doesn't have to crouch down for them. While he is finishing to button up his shirt, without counting the two or three buttons that he always leaves unbutton of course, you approach him and start to run your hands through his hair, trying to get his beautiful curls back on their place.
He abandons his button to look at you like you´re hanging the damn sky. His hand comes to your waist, where he squeezes softly to get your attention away from his hair and into him.
“Let me take you out” he says straightforwardly, nothing else. Javi hadn't been able to stop thinking about your almost date. He had already made peace with the fact that a good life wasn't for him, that he didn't deserve it, the first sign was when his mom got diagnosed, then when Lorraine told him about the baby he thought for a moment that everything could be fine, but then Lorraine told him the truth and it was like another sign of it. And after everything he had to do in Colombia, every decision he made, he was even more sure that a good life wasn't planned for him, but god ever since that day in the parking lot, every time he looks at you he can feel it, hope in the middle of his chest.
You furrow your eyes and open your mouth to answer him but before you could do it, you both hear the barn door being open, obviously by Chucho. You take Javi´s wrist and check the time again, Chucho´s usual break time was over, you both had gotten lost on time. You look up at Javi with widened eyes and he whispers curses. You start to look around you guys, and when you see the barn window that you were 80% sure had bales of hay underneath it, you take his face between your hands.
“You trust me?” you don't take your eyes off him. He nods and you hear Chucho call for the both of you “Mijo? Chiquitita?”
You give his lips a quick peck “Go down to your dad and say i'm with the cattle” you don't leave room for him to respond to you; you softly push him in the direction of the ladder.
He climbs the ladder down whilst shouting “coming!” to his pops. You run to the window and look through it, when you see that thankfully you were right about the bales of hay, you look behind you over your shoulder, hearing for a moment the conversation between Chucho and Javier.
“She said she wanted to go see and greet the cattle” Javi explains to his dad with a shrug, he knew that it was a good excuse, since you´ve been doing exactly that for many many years.
You finally look back through the window and take a deep breath, closing your eyes and asking whoever was out there to not let you get injured. You open your eyes and make the jump, but you haven't planned for the sound that your body colliding with the bales would make, you scrunch your nose at not only the sound but also the pain of it.
Both Javi and Chucho hear it, they turn their heads towards the direction of the noise, Javi intuiting where or who it came from but Chucho furrows his eyebrows in confusion.
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hedgehog-moss · 1 year
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Top 3 Annoying Translation Mistakes I’ve Read This Year (from least to most annoying):
Category I - lazy calques that let you feel the original text under the translation, not in a good way
(English -> French) In the French translation of Hugh Howey’s Sand (Outresable), the word “robe” at one point was mistranslated as... robe. Come on! In French that’s a dress, the English “robe” is what we call a robe de chambre. And it matters! The protagonist is knocking at his mother’s door and she opens it wearing a robe rather than clothes, which (in context) suggests that she was having sex; when you translate it as opening the door in a dress, the reader pictures her looking put together and wonders why her teenage son is feeling angrily embarrassed. Sure there will be more context clues in the rest of the paragraph, but your translation is not supposed to make it harder for the reader to form an accurate mental picture.
Category II - clunky sentences that make the text unpleasant or confusing to read
(I almost used the French translation of Julian Fellowes’ Past Imperfect as an example, but I suspect the original of being clunkily written as well. Still I gave a couple of examples of clumsy sentences at the end of my review that really should have been noticed and fixed.)
(Japanese -> French) Some sentences in the French translation of Masuji Ibuse’s 黒い雨 (Pluie noire) were so clumsy I had to re-read them several times, including the very first sentence. In English it is translated very neatly as: “For several years past, S. Shizuma had been aware of his niece Yasuko as a weight on his mind. What was worse, he had a presentiment that the weight was going to remain with him for still more years to come.”
In French we get this: “S. Shizuma avait depuis plusieurs années le cœur lourd au sujet de sa nièce Yasuko ; et pas seulement depuis plusieurs années, car il sentait bien que ce poids indicible doublerait, triplerait avec le temps.”
If the idea is that this past worry is likely to persist or worsen in the future, “et pas seulement depuis plusieurs années” is a confusing (and repetitive!) way of phrasing it. It suggests something that extends further into the past, not the future... In contrast, the Spanish translation uses the exact same “what was worse” phrasing as the English one: “Y, lo que era peor, tenía el presentimiento de que esta carga seguiría agobiándole indeciblemente aún durante muchos años.”
Another example (among many) where both the English and Spanish translations use the same simple phrasing while the French translator seems to get tangled up in her own syntax:
EN: “In the event, though, he proved to have shown more care than wisdom.”
SP: “Sea como sea, el caso es que demostró tener más prudencia que sabiduría.”
FR: “Or, ces doubles précautions avaient produit un effet en quelque sorte aussi stupide qu’elles avaient été avisées [...]” This character tried to do the wise / cautious thing and it resulted in something bad, I get it. But the English & Spanish translations are objectively neater and less syntactically muddled than “his double precautions produced an effect in some way as stupid as they had been wise.”
Category III (the worst) - mistranslations that actually influence the way the reader experiences the story or characters
(French -> English) The English translator of Valérie Perrin’s Trois (Three) seemed either confused by or not able to recognise a lot of French slang, which she translated literally. At one point the word “pisseuses”, a derogatory term for girls (yeah it comes from piss) is translated very literally as girls “who wet themselves.” It’s like if the English word “bitches” was translated as “female dogs” in another language where the term is neutral, instead of using a word with equivalent sexist connotations. The word ‘pisseuses’ here is part of a misogynistic character’s internal narration. He’s an adult man thinking of teenage girls as bitches; instead the inexplicable translation “girls who wet themselves” just leaves you baffled.
The same issue pops up again later on, when the same character thinks of an old woman as “la vieille bigote”—bigot means very religious in French, but here it’s not to be taken literally, it’s used as a generic derogatory term for an old woman. The English translation is “the pious old woman”—too literal ! It sounds almost respectful? Or at the very least neutral, when actually the male narrator is thinking of the woman as “this old hag.” Also their exchange had nothing at all to do with religion so you’re left confused as to how he came to think that she was pious.
It sounds like nitpicking but these are pretty big mistakes in that they not only make things confusing but also impact characterisation. You’re not supposed to turn a character’s negative thoughts into neutral ones. The translator does it again to a female character later on, this time with the opposite effect—making her less sympathetic. She is describing her life (married to a rich but controlling man) as “des vacances à perpétuité.” In English, her life becomes “a never-ending vacation”, thus erasing the very strong connotation of prison carried by the French phrase 'in perpetuity’. You could have found some phrasing around the idea of a “life sentence” maybe—we’re supposed to empathise with this character who consciously experiences her life as a gilded cage, and softening the phrase in the translation reduces the reader’s ability to do that by making it sound like this rich woman is just bored with her life of leisure. Sometimes even small mistranslations can end up having a significant impact on how the reader reacts to a story and its characters.
None of the above are awful translations if you take the book as a whole, but all four of these books are by best-selling authors so if they get so many poorly-translated words or sentences what hope is there for the rest...!
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sparklejamesysparkle · 4 months
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Anthony Perkins and starlet Venetia Stevenson photographed at a car dealership in Los Angeles while Tony examines a baby blue 1957 Ford Thunderbird, Tony sitting on the Thunderbird after he bought it, and Perkins polishing the car in his garage in a photo shot by Sid Avery in 1960. Tony was so enamored with this car that he kept it until 1982, restoring it once in 1970 and having it re-painted different colors at least seven times so he could drive it in his movies and have the paint match the mood of each character he portrayed. Venetia had recently split from actor Russ Tamblyn at the time photo one was taken, and she acted as Tony and his then-boyfriend Tab Hunter's beard by being seen with them at Hollywood events as one of their "dates" after she terminated her one year marriage with Russ. She later candidly told one of Perkins' biographers: "Certainly we all knew Tony was gay. We were real friends, and he would sleep over at my house in the same bed. But there was never, ever any---well, you know!" Venetia later married Don Everly of The Everly Brothers singing duo, had two children, and divorced him in 1970.
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iheartgavi · 9 months
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culpa mia
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Summary:reader is a party girl and one day gavi is invited to one of those parties with the team and wags but he didn’t expect to see his childhood friend/crush
.parings.pablo gavi! x fem reader!
.a/n. this is based on culpa mia (my fault) where reader is just like nick and he will be included(as well as other characters from the movie)in this!let me know if you guys like it! and in this Paul walker/Brian O’Conner was her dad,because I saw a edit and it resembled and got so well!and again rest in peace Paul🤍.(Noah doesn’t exist in this story!) again let me know what you think about this and lmk if you want part 2?
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y/n and gavi didn’t have the best relationship growing up they always butted heads but it all stoped when gavi started playing for la misa.
y/n’s dad was an amazing father he loved spending time with her he was a family guy and cared about his family so much.
growing up Brian (y/n’s dad) loved to race and he loved to show y/n.he always had her in the passenger seat as he drove telling her how things worked and how to do specific things.
but sadly her dad passed away in a car crash and when she found out she was devastated the person she loved the most had died and she didn’t even get to say goodbye to him,the day she found out he passed she swore she will race just like her dad,and she did when her mom re-married some rich guy she meet nick who lived next door he also loved to party and race so they decided to make a club they were red and there were others just like orange and purple etc.
when Pablo found out her dad died he wanted to reach out but he had no way in connecting her the only reason he found out was when he went back home to have his mom tell him that they moved away to Manilva in Spain when he asked “and what about the y/l/n’s? what are they up too?”.
but it all took a turn when Gavi’s teammates,wags and his family went to Manilva for a little getaway that they ran into y/m/n with her new husband h/h/n(her husband’s name) at a fancy restaurant with nick’s dad and his stepmom.
“y/m/n? Is that you?”belen asked the lady infront of her who turned back when she heard her name “belen?how are you?”she asked as Pablo turned his head quickly when he heard your moms name.
after talking for a bit and introducing everyone to each other as they were wait for their table aurora asked “and y/n where is she?” “oh she’s with my son” nicks dad said “look here they come right now” y/m/n said.
y/n walked in wearing a TIGHT black short dress that showed off her curves hand in hand with nick who was wearing a suit that fit him perfectly.
“y/n amor look at who we bumped into the paez gavira’s with their friends” your mom said as soon as she saw you walking in,when you heard that you frozed when you heard the last names
everyone turned around to see you and nick Pablo clench his jaw when he saw nicks arm wrapped around your waist.
after you both introduced yourself’s your parents,nicks parents,gavis parents and teammates said you should all get a private room so you all can talk and catch up and get to know each other.
the whole time at dinner gavi kept staring at you and whispering to pedri and Ferran who were next to him,you mad good conversation with everyone especially the girls.
everyone was talking about nick and your relationship and how you guys got together and little questions till gavi got tired of it a said “fumas nick?”(do you smoke nick?) Causing everyone to look at him nick just chuckled as you rolled your eye’s “no nick no fuma” Raffaella nicks step mom replied (no nick dosn’t smoke)
after a few seconds of silence nick decided to speak up and say “Lo siento, realmente deberíamos ir a trabajar.” as he whipped his mouth with a napkin as you nodded grabbing you purse (I’m sorry we should really be heading to work).
“¿a casa de Mikel?”(at Mikel's house?) his dad asked “si”(yes) nick said as he fixed his suit “¿Vuestro primer caso?”(is this your guy’s first case?)raffaella asked the both of you as everyone looked at you both.
“ojalá”(hopefully)you replied with a smile “su padre nos ha deiado a cargo del papeleo.”(his father has left us in charge of the paperwork.”)you finished up.
“Ah, están estudiando Derecho y con muy buenas notas.”(Oh, they are studying Law and with very good grades.)your mom said as everyone looked impressed.
soon after you all said your goodbyes and left the restaurant getting into nicks car heading to “work”
back at the restaurant gavi was ferocious he saw you with a other guys who was all over,your mom approves of him when he thought she only approved Gavi because she used to say “they are going to end up together” and last but not least you didn’t even talk to him.
after a couple of minutes the team and wags as-well as Aurora and javi excused themselves getting ready to leave for a party they have been invited to from one of Ferran’s friends leaving the adult’s alone….
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thatbanditqueen · 10 months
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I Was The Best Husband
An Elvis Presley One-Shot
A response to the writing prompt "‘are you always this shy?"
Many thanks to my lovely compatriots @whositmcwhatsit @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love @powerofelvis for talking me off the ledge every time and holding my hand and reminding me why I love Elvis and how fun this can be.
Summary: It is March 1972, a month after Priscilla officially told Elvis about her affair with Mike Stone and her decision to leave him and request a divorce. He is in LA, getting ready to go back on tour and his entourage have invited some women over to help cheer him up.
Warnings: Some mild soft core make-out stuff. I think my smut generator is broken. Please send help. Oh, I wrote this today and there are a lot of typos. And some of it or all of it may not make sense. I'd honestly skip it.
Word Count: 4.2K
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I Was the Best Husband
Friday, March 31, 1972, 8:30 p.m.
La Fortuna Apartment Complex
Just off Pico Blvd in West Los Angeles, CA
Her first response had been a firm no when Caroline stuck her head around Maureen’s bedroom door and asked if she wanted to come to a party in the hills at Elvis Presley’s house.
“Please, please PLEASE, Mo, I need you there to make sure I don’t drink too much or do anything stupid. 'Sides, Joe told me to bring some friends.”
“Who’s Joe?”
Caroline walked into Maureen’s room and sat on her vanity stool, wiping the corners of her mouth.
“I met him at the Whiskey last summer, when I was in the cage. He’s works for Elvis, took me out to Palm Springs for Labor Day, ‘member?” Carolyn's long, golden hair glistened in the bedroom lamp light.
“Right, how many girls were there? Twenty? Didn’t you say the trip was a bust?”
“I go to sit on Elvis’ lap for a whole gospel song, and then he asked me and another girl to make out in front of him. That’s a story I’ll be telling my grandchildren one day. Don’t you want to be able to do that?”
Maureen shook her head. “Hmmm, I think I’d probably leave out the second part. I don’t know, Cari, I -”
“Ah ha! You’re thinking about it. Get dressed, we gotta pick up Teresa. You don’t want to miss your opportunity to meet Elvis!”
“Right, maybe if I’m lucky I’ll get to watch the two of you make out on his lap. I don’t know why you need me to come if Teresa is, she makes since, you' 're both waitresses at Bootlegger’s. I’m not sure this Joe was thinking of me when he told you to bring some friends.”
Maureen looked down, smoothing her tee over her small bust while Caroline jumped up and spritzed Maureen’s perfume over her wrists.
“You’re cute, you’re funny, and you have a car, so shake a tail feather and let’s go.”
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Carolyn turned up the radio and “Maggie May” resounded through the car as Maureen guided her Volkswagen bug up the steep incline into the Hollywood Hills. The road twisted and got narrower as they went along and she had to lean forward to feel steady shifting the gears.
Maureen found herself staring at Teresa’s beautiful brown skin as it gleaming in the streetlights while they walked up to the front of the large, white Tudor-style house. Maureen felt like an ugly duckling about to wander into lake full of swans, and hastened her gait, jogging up to link her arm between the other two taller, dazzling women as she balanced herself on her wooden clogs.
Knocking a few times, the door was finally opened by a tall white guy whose name was either Dick, Rick or Nick, and the women made their way into the foyer and down the split level steps towards an large open living room where guests were milling around talking, dancing, drinking. 
Carolyn leaned into whisper, “Joe says they’re trying to cheer Elvis up, his wife just asked for a divorce and moved out.”
Maureen only had a moment to reflect on this when Carolyn’s wrist was grabbed by a stout, short balding guy wearing black sunglasses inside at 10 p.m. at night. This, apparently, was Joe. He reminded Maureen of a a think, fat ground hog with no neck and a big, friendly expression that hid rows of sharp teeth. Joe smiled as he kissed Carolyn’s cheeks and checked out Teresa, then nodded politely at Maureen, as he took Carolyn in hand and led them to go meet “the boss.”
They could hear Elvis’ voice echoing through the air before they saw him as they walked out to the pool patio.
“Man, I don’t know how she could do this to me, I was the best husband a woman could ask for. Ain't no one in my family ever been divorced, 'cept my mean-ass, desertin' no good sonofabitch grandaddy. Unnatural for a woman to wanna break up a family like that. After everything I gave her, too. Provided everything a woman could ask for. And what thanks do I get? She steals my baby away and breaks up our fucking family .”
Elvis stood there at the side of the pool, his arms around two beautiful women as he spoke to a short young white guy, maybe in his late twenties or early thirties, with long greasy dark hair and bushy eyebrows. Elvis paused his diatribe to kiss one of the woman’s cheeks and ask what her name was again, before his eyes met Joe’s and he made a half grin.
“Hey, EP, you remember Cari from Palm Springs, huh?”
Elvis let go of the women he was with and drew Carolyn into his side,  kissing her cheek and saying of course he remembered her. He hummed a few bars of a gospel song, which made Carolyn giggle, and then asked her to introduce him to her friends as he took Teresa and then Maureen’s hands, kissing them one at a time. Maureen shivered when Elvis took her hand, his eyes narrowed as his mouth turned upward into a crooked grin and he winked at her. She forgot how to talk as his nose grazed the top of her hand and he squeezed it to his mouth for light, warm kiss.
“This here is Arty Shiskee, he’s workin’ on this picture we’re makin’ with MGM, been filming our tour rehearsals all day.”
The short, dark haired man smiled anxiously, and uncrossed his arms to shake their hands. Carolyn leaned into Elvis, and Joe took Maureen by the waist to “show you around, maybe get you a drink, babe?”
Maureen felt as Joe was moving her out to pasture with the other guests not selected for Elvis’ harem, so she tilting her head toward the bar inside and said thanks.
Waiting for three white wine spritzers, Maureen turned to see Arty.
“Hey, Art, is it?”
“Actually, it’s Marty. I don’t have the guts to correct him, he’s Elvis, ya know? I guess I’m a coward. Also, how can I give the guy a hard time? He’s wife just left him.”
“Yeah, he seems real broken up about, huh? How will he ever find another companion?”
Marty chuckled, and pulled his hair behind his ear as Maureen carried on, she always talked more when she felt nervous.
“I guess it’s good he feels comfortable talking about it.”
“Um, yeah, ‘comfortable,’ that’s one way to put it.”
Before Maureen could ask him what he meant, her drinks were ready, and she enlisted Marty’s help carrying them back to the others. This was not easy, Elvis and the girls had disappeared from the patio, and Marty diligently followed Maureen through the mansion until they spotted the back of his shag hairdo on a couch in a large den. Maureen handed her friends their drinks and settled onto the floor, leaning back against the side of a brown velour couch and resting her shoes on the fur rug that extended out from the coffee table. Carolyn seemed at home sitting atop Elvis’ lap, buffeted by two other women sitting on either side all listening attentively as Elvis spoke.
“I am telling ya what, man, I gave her everything a wife could ask for, she wanted a horse, I got her a horse. She wanted ranch we drove by in Mississippi,  by god, I got her the damn ranch. And I bought everyone a truck for the ranch. She wanted a bigger house in Los Angle -lesss, why, I bought this huge goddamn house. Gave her unlimited budget to decorate this place to her heart’s desire. New car every time she blinked. Jewelry boxes filled with diamonds. A closet full of new designer clothes.”
Elvis rubbed Carolyns waist and extended his other arm around the redhead next to him, looking at one, then the other, as he asked. “Now, wouldn’t you like that, honey? Would that have made you happy?”
“Uh huh, daddy. That wouldda made me the happiest.”
Elvis kissed Carolyn’s cheek as she said this. “Right? Thank ya, baby. That’s cuz you’re sweet, normal, nice girl, ain’t got anti-freeze running through your veins.”
He kissed the redhead’s cheek too, and then her lips as she turned toward him and put her hands around his neck.
“I would have been so happy, Elvis, I wouldda let you know, twenty five hours a day, eight days a week.”
The loud smacks of their sloppy kisses echoed through the room, and Maureen suddenly felt very self conscious, as if she was watching something she ought not to. She didn’t go to these Hollywood people parties very often, although perhaps it wasn’t soo weird, she reasoned, for a handsome, wealthy, star like Elvis to make out with good looking women in his own house.
Surrounded by other good looking people.
Who were mostly 20-something females.
Maureen looked around and clocked at least another ten girls just in their area alone, with only three other men hanging out among the guests. Two after Marty waved a small goodbye and slipped out through the side door onto the patio.
Maureen returned her gaze to Elvis, who had paused his kisses with the sympathetic redhead in order to continue talking. Every few moments, Maureen thought she caught Elvis glance at her out of the corner of his eye, but she told herself it was nothing.
“Ya see, honey, now, that’s what I told her, I said any other woman would fuckin’ kill to be where you are, to have what you have, to have a husband like me. Uh huh, but not my wife. Nah, that bitch has a heart of stone. What thanks do I get for everything I’ve done? Come home to find all that swag I bought, gone, man, gone.”
He snapped his fingers. “She packed it all up, gave up on a ten year relationship, over ten years, and and left me for another man.” Elvis shook his head, his squeezing Carolyn’s knee.
A smile came over Elvis’ face as he looked from Carolyn to the redhead, and Maureen thought maybe he was going to try and get the two  to make out. Instead, he asked them, “Hey, want to see something out of sight?”
As they nodded, he jumped up, and looked around, his eyes settling on Maureen as reached out his hand to draw her up from the floor.
“Check this out honey, Imma show you how a real man protects his family. ’Git up here, woman, I need ya.”  Maureen stumbled up as Elvis pulled her to the middle of the room and positioned her arms out. “Alright, baby, now stand still and Do. Not. Move. Do you trust me?”
Maureen nodded hesitantly, her eyes wide with what could probably be best described as the opposite of trust. Elvis face lit up, and then he took a deep breath, his hands together in prayer as he centered them in front of his face and down to his chest. Then he proceeded to thrust his leg up, extending the knee forward in a swift karate kick out at her side.
Maureen froze in terror as Elvis grunted loudly and proceeded to demonstrate a rash of karate chops on either side of her face, followed by a few more high thrusting kicks, his black hair flounced in the air from his movements and “hiyas!” echoing around the room.  He chuckled as he caught his breath, rubbing her shoulder.
“Whoa, hey there, you can breath darlin, it’s ok. I’m a black belt.”
He turned to the little crowd that had formed around the room as they clapped and he took a bow.
 “See y’all? That’s how karate can be, if ya know what ya doin’ like I do. I can control my movements precisely and protect my family. I could kill a man with my bare hands if I wanted to.”
Then his face erupted into a grin as Maureen chuckled nervously.
 “Course, I wouldn’t. A true master only uses deadly force as a last resort. Against those who mean him or his family harm.” Elvis growled, and Maureen quickly ducked under his arm, about to sit, or flee, an option she was seriously considering until she felt his grip on her wrist.
“You did great, darlin, I could tell you liked it, saw it in your eyes. Watch out, once it gets you, there's no going back,’” he murmured, and kissed her on her lips, his hands on the sides if her face. Then he held out her hand for her to take a bow before he released her.
“Didn’t she seem fearless? Give it up for Colleen, everyone, bravest little gal in here. Probably the craziest too. Could see it in her eyes.”
He winked as Maureen joined people standing at the edge of the room, before sneaking off to use the bathroom and grateful she hadn’t peed her pants during Elvis’ karate demonstration. It had been terrifying, exhilarating, and mesmerizing. The violence and intensity of Elvis might even have turned her on a bit, but this sensation was almost certainly overwhelmed by the mortal fear that he was going to kill or seriously injure her.
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It was past one when Maureen made a concerted effort to find her friends and persuade them to go home. She had been enjoying the free drinks and picking at some fried chicken as she made small talk with  other guests, avoiding the areas where she heard the loud refrain of the best husband in all of Memphis, Hollywood and the goddamn world. But now she would have to face him, and found Elvis in the living room where she made her way to the corner and scanned the area for Carolyn and Teresa. She was distracted by Elvis' direct glances at her every few minutes. Realizing her friends weren’t with him or in the room, Maureen turned to leave but was stopped by Joe's hand on her shoulder.
"Hey, boss man wants you to come join us," his arm snaked around her as he led her over to the few people still hanging out.
“Hey there, it’s my karate partner. Where’s the fire, honey? Come on,  take a load off.”
Maureen’s eyes widened but she found herself stuttering and unable to talk in the glow of Elvis full attention.
“I’m, uh, I’m sorry, I have to find my friends, Carolyn and Teresa, I think they may have actually been on your lap, at one point.”
Elvis’ lips curled up, and he bit his bottom one as he muttered. “Oh yes, Careful Carolyn, mmhmmm, yeah, I think she and that purty Black girl went home with Jerry, huh Joe?"
The ground hog nodded.
Elvis winked, and then his eyebrows creased as he saw Maureen’s face fall. “Oh it’s ok, baby,  did your friends leave you behind? It’s ok, I, uh, I think they was lookin’ for ya, actually, yeah, they said to tell you not ta worry.”
Elvis squeezed her hand and nodded to the others as he turned and guided Maureen away from the living through a hall.
“C’mon, I know something that will make ya feel better. It’s my cure all for when life gets me down.”
Elvis’ hand slipped around Maureen’s waist, and she let her head dip into his side, more from exhaustion than anything else. The feeling of Elvis tall, sturdy body as he held her to him and kissed the top of her head was comforting, she made the decision not to think about how he seemed to be instantly intimate with every woman he met. She definitely decided not to question whether this quality had been appreciated by his soon-to-be ex-wife.
Elvis pushed them into a large country style kitchen, with a wide, wooden island in the middle. Loosening his grip, Elvis went to the fridge while Maureen determined she would be more comfortable sitting down and settled on the nearest and therefore most logical option: the island’s yellow tiled counter. This is where she sat swinging her legs as Elvis returned with a gallon of vanilla ice cream and a bottle of chocolate syrup.
“Well, now, ya hardly said a word all night, sweetheart, are you always this shy?”
“Um, only with people I don’t know.” Maureen murmured, looking down and pulling the strap of her black jersey dress back up from her shoulder.
“You sayin’ you don’t know me?”
Maureen looked up into Elvis’s eyes, and her heart fluttered as he stepped closer. Now his long arms pushed over her lap to settled alongside her body on the counter as he moved between her legs. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and felt the movements of his chest acutely against her nipples as he leaned closer and hovered in front of her. Exhaling through her nose, she tried not to gasp as she tapped out her fingers nervously and looked down. A lone, nervous giggle escaped her mouth.
“Um, not really. Not who you really are.” Maureen whispered to her lap, which now included Elvis’ hands, rubbing her waist.
He lifted her chin, speaking softly as he looked into her eyes. “S’ok baby, I don’t bite. Much.”
Then Elvis chomped his teeth together loudly into Maureen's face and she jerked back with a giggling gasp.
Elvis laughed, straightening his yellow tinted sunglasses. “Well, I’m Elvis, Elvis Presley. Nice ta meet ya, Colleen.”
“Maureen. It’s Maureen, though my friends all call me Mo.”
Elvis’ finger’s trailed up the side of Maureen’s outer thigh, and she swallowed as he widened her legs around him.
“Alright then, see, I didn’t really know who you were.”  He murmured into her cheek. “Nice ta meet ya, Mo.”
Elvis seemed to recognize the effect he had on her, as her breath hitched in her throat and she found her self incapable of talking. He stepped back with a chuckle, and dragged the ice cream over the counter next to Maureen’s hip, pulling off the container top and flipping the chocolate syrup lid with his teeth and a dramatic exaggerated “humpf."
Maureen and guffawed watching Elvis poured the chocolate sauce directly into the ice cream container.
"What are you doing? No one else'll be able to eat that."
“Honey, do you see anyone else here? S’my house, now, dammit, and I’ll do what I want. Ain’t got no wife to nag at me. If I wanna eating ice cream outta the box, then I'll get it out of the box." He said, slurping a messy spoonful into his open mouth.
Elvis brought a second helping to Maureen’s lips. “Now, open wide, like a good lil gal.” He chuckled as she let him push the spoon into her mouth slowly, moaning in delight as she swallowed the sweet, cold, sugary goodness.
“MMhmmm. See, now, do I know how to make women happy or what? You wouldn’t have left me, would ya, Mo Mo?”
“No, but I'm pretty easy to win over. I'd forgive almost anything if a man feeds me ice cream.”
Maureen winked at him and wiped her mouth just in time for another spoon of chocolate swirled ice cream, which Elvis followed with a soft, grateful kiss. He threw the spoon down and leaned into her, his hands moving up her body until they were cupping the back of her head and his lips settled again over hers.
Slow, soft, tender movements turned needier as they rocked back and forth. Maureen’s hands stroked the top of Elvis' shoulders, pulling him in by the lapel as she opened her mouth to meet his tongue. Her wooden platforms hit against each other as she notched her legs around Elvis, gripping him to her, as close as as she could bring him. Elvis stepped back, panting as he wiped his mouth, his lips contorted in a dopey grin.
She could hear the front door slam as people left the party, but they weren't going back to that way when he drew her off the counter and left the ice cream melting where it sat. She could see it in his eyes, a hungry wolfish glare, and his arm pulled her the other way, away from the people, the music, and the main part of the house.
“C’mon, baby, let me give you the VIP tour.” Elvis announced as they walked through the other side of the kitchen to a narrow stair case.
“These are some stupid, expensive-ass refurbished stairs.”
He bounced into the second floor, and turned to draw Maureen into him once more, his hand at the back of her neck and her body thrummed with need as his fingers played with the scruff of her hair. Then he was pressing her to the wall, pressing all her thoughts and misgivings away with his lips, while his hands blindly felt their way over her hips.
Minutes passed by measured by the metronome of air popping softly between their lips. Elvis fingers began to migrate lower, tugging at the hem of her dress. He smiled at the arousal in Maureen’s wide, brown eyes, leading her through a door at the end of the hall.
“Oh loook, huh, I think,” he paused as he walked to turn on one solitary lamp on top of a dresser on. “I think we found, the, uh, bedroom.” He looked down, almost shy, as he grinned.
Maureen swished from side to side playfully, anxiously, hesitantly in place where she stood across the room from him. Suddenly self-conscious, her desire faltered as she thought about where she was and who she was with, and became profoundly insecure about her sexual prowess.
“MMhmmmm. There is a bed.” She murmured, her arm up behind her neck, twisting her long, brown hair aside. “And, it is a room. So I guess it fits the definition.” 
Elvis eyes narrowed in recognition as he strode back to her and took her hand, his lips kissing the top lightly and his nose nuzzling into Maureen’s knuckles. “Hey baby, we don’t gotta do nothin’, ok? You’re the boss.”
Maureen felt a blistering heat grow between her legs, and she let out a breathy exhale as Elvis moved his lips up her arm, kissing his way to the nape of her neck.
“We aint’t gotta do nothin’ you don't wanna do, nothin' at all, ok honey? Don’t shake, sshhhh, s’ok.”
Maureen put her hands around Elvis’ neck, willing away her trembling nerves as the knot in her belly propelled her to be as close to him as possible. She felt ashamed of how much she wanted to do the opposite of nothing, right now, all at once as soon as possible.
“I, um, I’m not one for, I mean, I don’t usually do one night stands.”
He took her hand, and led her over to the bed and pulling her onto his lap. “There, we don’t have ta stand at all.”
Maureen exhaled with a chuckle as Elvis rubbed his hand up and down her thigh slowly, suddenly sheepish and uncertain. He let out a hesitant exhale. For some inexplicable reason, Elvis’ sudden nervousness made Maureen relax a little, and she lifted her fingers to caress his cheek before stranding to take off her dress.
He stopped her, and lifted her right foot to his lap, and then her left, chuckling at her cries as he throw her shoes across the room. Then he pulled her up in front of him, instructing her to lift her dress slowly. Very slowly.
Maureen’s breath escaped her nose in long gasps as she lifted her black dress, drawing it over her head, inch by inch, encouraged by the short gasps Elvis' throat made as his eyes locked into hers. He groaned loudly and bit his lip when she revealed the light, yellow flowered panties with a little yellow bow at the middle. Lifting her dress like a curtain, revealing her belly inch-by-inch, then her breasts, then her nipples, the feel of the fabric brushing over her skin was titillating. Naked, except for her panties, she moved her arms over her tummy and did an awkward little wiggle as she hurriedly sought out the warm of Elvis’ embrace.
His movements were slow and purposeful, trailing his over her as he removed her arms from her tummy and just soaked in the sight of her body, biting his lip and breathing. He met her eyes, and gather her body on top of his, planting kisses along her clavicle, each breath made Maureen’s pulse quicken and she ran her hands through Elvis’ soft hair. He laid her back on to the bed, on his knees between her legs as he slid her underwear off, watching as he revealed her wooly, warm labia, sucking in air as he shook his head with reverence and whispered a low goddamn, goddamn.
Maureen let out a breathy chuckle. “What? What is it?”
“Just beautiful, honey, I just like looking at it.”
“I’m, uh. I think I’ve probably done this less than you.” She let out another nervous chuckle, every cell in her body was telling her to shut up but when Maureen got nervous, she started talking more. “I don’t know how I’ll compare to Vegas showgirls or or even —”
Elvis put his finger her to her lips, then he calmly stood up and kicked off his shoes, hanging up his sports coat and printed dress shirt over a chair.
“S’ok, honey, don’t get all up in your head like that. Shhh, just remember to breath and  uh, follow my lead.”
Elvis returned to hoover above Maureen and kissed her gently. He winked, and Maureen felt him tremble as he moved to unzipped his pants.
“I really was the best husband, ya know? I never expected anything from my wife. Ever. Knew it was my job to provide. And, uh, when it cimes to making love." He blushed. " I, uh, know, well, that its the man’s job to make it good. You’ll see.”
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The Orbitron
The Orbitron is a custom car built by Ed Roth and feared lost until its rediscovery in Mexico in 2007
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A second generation to Roth's original Beatnik Bandit, which was built in 1960, the Beatnik Bandit II features a one-of-a-kind fiberglass body with PPG lemon meringue pie paint, stylized Rat Fink designs on the sides, and chrome by Metal Masters of Salt Lake City, UT. 
Beatnik Bandit II includes many unique design features, including an electronic console which operates the digital instrument panel and other features such as a digital readout of the car's latitude and longitude. 
The lack of a rearview mirror is not a problem on this car. A "TV mirror" video monitor is mounted on the console with the actual camera mounted in the rear panel. The bubble top is also lifted electronically. 
Beatnik Bandit II was built entirely by Roth, who credits "Revelations from Father in Heaven" for his achievement. The car has been shown in major U. S. cities, including Boston, Los Angeles, Chicago and Houston, as well as in Yokohama, Japan.
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The Beatnik Bandit
Ed 'Big Daddy' Roth was an artist, cartoonist, illustrator, pinstriper and custom car designer and builder who created the hot-rod icon Rat Fink and other characters. Roth was a key figure in Southern California's Kustom Kulture and hot-rod movement of the late 1950s and 1960s The Beatnik Bandit was one of his first creations from the early 1960s. It was built from a 1949 Oldsmobile, the chassis was shortened 5 feet, the Olds engine was given the classic hotrod look with GMC blower and twin carbys, everything was chromed except the blower belt. The white interior featured single joystick, that operated turning, throttle and braking. The bubble top was created using compressed air to inflate a sheet of plastic into a dome in a pizza oven. On display at the National Automobile Museum in Reno
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Mysterion
Ed Roth built the Mysterion in 1963, he got the idea from the multi engine dragsters he had seen at the dragstrips. He combined two Ford engines, two transmissions, plus two welded rear ends for the foundation. It featured an offset headlight and the typical Ed Roth bubble top. On display at Galpin Auto Sports.
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The Road Agent by Ed “Big Daddy” Roth.
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Mysterion
Custom builder and artist Ed "Big Daddy" Roth completed the Mysterion in 1963. The bubbletopped custom featured a completely original fiberglass body and twin Ford big-block engines. The weight of the engines was too much for the frame to bear, and the Mysterion fell apart. Tribute versions have been built, including this precise replica from Galpin Auto Sports.
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The Surfink
The Surfink, created by Mark Glaz as a tribute to Ed Roth and Ratfink, features a large Ratfink figure atop a surfboard complete with a blown V-8 engine.
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The Orbitron
Built in 1964, the vehicle was powered by a 1955 or 1956 Chevrolet V8 and was backed by a Powerglide automatic transmission. The body was hand-laid fiberglass, hiding Roth's extensive chrome work to the chassis. The cockpit, set at the extreme rear of the vehicle in the manner of a dragster, was lined with fake fur and featured an 11-inch General Electric "1-Touch" portable television inserted in the console. Topping the cockpit was a custom-made, hydraulically operated Plexiglas bubble top. One of a series of ordinary doorbell push-button switches atop the hood activated the top from the outside.
Other mechanical features included a 1956 Chevrolet rear end, dropped Ford front axle beam, Buickbrake drums and early Ford brakes. The frame was handmade of rectangular 2x4 inch steel tubing. The engine was a leftover from one of Roth's 1955 Chevrolets, having been removed to make way for a then-new Mark IV big-block given to him by General Motors. It was one of the very few completed cars Roth deemed to be a "mistake" because he felt the car did not show well since the heavily chromed engine and most of the chassis were hidden. The Orbitron was, in fact, one of his few customs to have a hood. Reportedly, the hydraulically operated hood did not fit well due to rushed fiberglass work.
The vehicle's most distinctive feature was its asymmetrical front end with red, green and blue tinted headlamps. It was thought that the three beams when combined would produce an intense white light; the idea came from the then-new medium of color television.
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By Jerry Thompson - originally posted to Flickr as 2C7O4069, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=5973582
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By Jerry Thompson - originally posted to Flickr as 2C7O4066, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=5973591
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The Baja Bandeeto
Custom car builder and renowned painter Fritz ‘Spritz By Fritz‘ Schenck recreated with his bubble top roadster; the Baja Bandeeto.
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atvace · 7 months
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Lady Dior and the Seven Dilfs
Chapter 9: Arrive and Ride
Masterlist
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Warning: sex
The sound of the plane landing finally becomes music to everyone's ear. the ass of the plane opens up revealing a few cars and new people you're not familiar with. Let's talk about you, who wouldn't be in shock after getting edged by your lieutenant's knee? yes, that's it. that is the reason why you've been SLIGHTLY quiet for the rest of the ride. But a girl had to be honest, you want more than that.
Soap and Ghost walked towards an athletic man and greeted each other, "Alejandro!" He smiled, "Sergeant Mactavish." The guy looked like in his mid-30s, had a Mexican accent. from afar, You could see he has a wide forehead, a perfectly balanced sharp nose, keen sharp eyes with perfect jawline. his shoulders are broad. he had those compression shirts beneath his vest which made you melt staring at his bicep is well seen. his haircut, God his haircut is perfectly aligned with the shape of his head. you wanna ride-
"Dior!" Soap's calling dragged your senses out of the daydream. You shyly reveal yourself to the sun and walk towards the others. Alejandro has his eyes locked on your figure as you walk by. "This is Dior, a new re-" "Assigned FBI." You smiled at Alejandro and lent out your hand. "Ay, ¹Dios Mio. Nice to meet you, ²cielita." He locks eye contact with you, softly accepting your hand kissing your knuckle like a gentleman. "I am pleasured too, ³se��or." You smiled at him.
You deducted him deeper in up close. you could smell his bergamot musky scent, his eyes is brown but turns amber when hit by sunlight. His hair is neatly combed and his hands are veiny. you wonder how they feel when it's playing your cli-
Alejandro chuckles and lets go of your hand slowly before looking over to Ghost. "Lieutenant! Laswell says they call you Ghost."
Soap pointed his thumb to Ghost and laughed, "Actually, I think he prefers to be called-" "That'll do." Ghost cuts Soap off. which made you raised your eyebrow. Huh, you do in fact had any no idea about Ghost's whereabouts except him being british, tea person, ginger biscuit and all.
He gestured the three of you to follow him. "Welcome to City of Souls." He exposes his cheeky smile while walking towards his truck. Soap looked around at the military activity thats going on around them, "I've never been to Mexico." Alejandro raises his eyebrow at his remarks.
"This isn't Mexico, this is Las Almas." He raises his hand showing a few green hills from the distance. "Shepherd's contractors are inbound to reinforce. They're bringing hardware. It'll need a room." Ghost looked over Alejandro. "Relajar Hermano, my base is your base." The Mexican man stops in front of his car.
"Good, now Where can we know anything about the missile?" Ghost asked again. "Cartel safe house. We'll talk about that in my base, hermano." He opened the door and lent his hand to you. "Ladies first, please." He smiles at you softly. "⁴Gracias, el señor." You blow a kiss to him as you enter the car.
Soap got around the car and entered by your left side as Ghost on your right side. there was a driver already inside whilst Alejandro giving orders before entering the shotgun of the car. The air in Las Almas was a little less polluted than in Los Angeles back in your FBI days. you had no trouble settling in the environment hence you're quite used to it.
"This is my second in command, Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra," He looks at the three of you from the rear mirror. "Ola, señor." You cooed and Rodolfo smiled at you. "⁵tengo miedo de los fantasmas" Rodolfo said quickly shifting his gaze to Ale.
You snorted to yourself and felt Soap and Ghost's eyes on you, "Ah, 'm sorry." you rubbed your eye. Alejandro pursed his lips and looked back at Soap, "You know Spanish?"
"Uhh, no." "No." Soap and Ghost answered. "Well, a green bird taught me how to form a word or two." You shrugged. He laughs softly and puts on his seatbelt, "You'll manage." And by that, Rodolfo pulls up to the destination.
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
You were enjoying watching the scenery that extends in the mirror of the car watching small shops, flower shops, little cafes, and restaurants that you passed by. but eventually, you got a little tired of keeping your head to yourself trying not to lean to either of the men by your side.
Soap notices your little gesture of uncomfiness and slides his rifle to the other side of his legs so it won't bug you, "You can lay your head on my shoulder if your neck is sore, Dior." He softly said to you. Ghost bit the inside of his cheek while side-eyeing the two of you.
"Oh, no no no. the cielita can use this." Alejandro opens and rummages the inside of his car dashboard quickly. You tilt your head in curiosity and perk up when he reveals a pink Hello Kitty neck pillow. Your heart instantly melts and you reach it from his hand.
"Alejandro, this is so cute," you wore it around your neck and closed your eyes. "Fluffy too.. Thank you so much." You squeezed the pillow as Alejandro chuckled. "I got that from gift exchanging. Los Vaqueros does that every time we celebrate an achievement." He leaned back to his seat.
Soap patted your head before looking back at the window. His pupils constricted at the sight of a white carry truck with 4 men holding guns. His palm grasped at his own rifle and looked straight at the 'target'.
"White truck, four armed in the back-" Alejandro quickly tilt to Soap, "Ay, hey- ⁶tranquilo." He held his palm as Soap let go of his rifle again. "Easy... that's normal here." He said leaning back to his seat.
You were looking at Soap's sudden tension and then back to Alejandro. "Guns on the streets are jurisdiction of the police. " He marked, "Where are the police?" Ghost asked.
Alejandro clears his throat, "Well, Las Almas has a very serious problem. There are few here to uphold the law and many of those who resist corruption..." Ghost looks at Alejandro, "... disappear." He ends.
You look at Soap, "What about the military?" He asked. "Well, because we are well-trained, soldiers are recruited by the narcos." Alejandro rested his head watching the streets. "Why not you?"
Ghost's question made you and Soap glared at him. Even Rodolfo sighed in defeat whilst Alejandro tried not to smile, "We grew up here. They call us Los Vaqueros...cowboys." You raised your eyebrow at his answer.
"Save a horse, ride a cowboy." You said in a relaxed tone. now they're glaring at you but Alejandro nervously rubbed his forehead, "I like you, cielita."
A few minutes went by, your group found themselves waiting for a red light. On the other side of the road, there was a mother and a kid buying balloons with someone holding a gun beside them. Ghost and Soap exchanged looks, "Kids, guns, and balloons.."
"That's a new one," You replied at Soap's remark. "⁷Narcos use generosity to win over the people," Alejandro cooed in. "Even the children?" Soap raised one of his eyebrows. "Especially the children." Rodolfo continued.
Another red light made Rodolfo stop the car. You peered over to Ghost's side of the window and gagged after seeing a dead body being covered with written white cloth, smeared red with blood. "Jesus, what the fuck is that." Ghost looks down on you, 'She tortures people with her heels but gags at a covered dead body...' he thought.
"Narcomantas." Alejandro shortly replied, "Cartel Cloths." Rodolfo translates. "Messages from El Sim Nombre, warnings, marking territory." You saw another narcomantas as they passed by, "Our streets are laced with death." Alejandro narrates.
"Whose El Sin Nombre?" Ghost looks at Alejandro from the rear mirror. "El Sin Nombre, The Nameless. leader of Las Almas Cartel." He replied while biting his lips, looking at the huge beautiful graffiti saying 'EL SIN NOMBRE'
"Where can we find him?" Soap tilts his head. "...or her?" You pursed your lips, poking the neck pillow. "You can't. No one knows who they are but they are everywhere." Alejandro said whilst Rodolfo nodded in agreement. "Is this person an individual?" You raised your eyebrow. "Perhaps, we still never know because they're everywhere." He shrugged.
"And that is a challenge. Los Vaqueros loves challenges!" Alejandro snickered and gazed at Ghost from the rear mirror. "With your mask, you'll fit in well here, Ghost." He finishes. but as he said that, you saw Soap doing the 'cut it out' hand gesture. which made you knit your eyebrow at the sudden awkward pause. you tilt your head to Ghost who now has his eyes down to his knee.
'Ghost's mask is a sensitive topic, no good.' you thought to yourself.
Rodolfo slowed the car down watching a road blockage just a few ahead of them. Alejandro seemed frowned at the sight but he gestured to take a turn, "Military checkpoint. Turn right, don't engage them." He ordered. "Yes sir." You watched a few civilians being stopped by the military.
"Why?" Soap looked out of his window, "Some troops are in the pocket of El Sin Nombre. Like I told you, they're everywhere." Alejandro explains again. "My resources is still finding clues and intels regarding of El Sin Nombre. let's hope they found something important."
˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
Settling into Alejandro's base, he said it was sectioned into multiple buildings to make it slightly more private. You walked towards the light spacious hallway that connects the kitchen and the meeting room. You saw your duffle bag already gently placed on top of your bed. "Finally, inner peace..." You mumbled before falling into the soft mattress. "Dior? This is Rodolfo. Colonel Alejandro wants us to regroup in the meeting room." He knocked on your door softly which made you irritatedly punch the bed. "Ay, coño." You mumbled while getting up again, "Coming!"
You got out of your room with an unpleasant mood, as Soap walked towards you with a small metal box in his hand. You were a bit puzzled about his gesture, "Could you brew this for Ghost? I think he had a car sick." He said in a concerned tone. You held back your laugh, "the lieutenant? Car sick? What is he, five?" You took the metal box and made your way to the kitchen with him.
"Aye, I used to get car sick too in my early 20s." Soap filled the kettle pot with tap water and placed it into the stove, "He's in his early 30s? I thought he joined the military earlier than all of us combined." You furiously tapped your foot to the floor. "Let's not be mean to him, poor guy went through a lot." He turned the stove in.
You scoffed and cackled at his statement because hell if he knew what Ghost did to you whilst he was deep asleep, he would had a stroke on the floor. "Soap, what do you think about him." You watched him lean to the counter next to you. "Ghost? well, he's serious all the time. You know it." He shrugged and playfully tapped his finger to the counter.
"I mean, I've been here for less than a week. people be 'Ghost is scary, Ghost is this, Ghost is that' and I wouldn't find him scary at all" You rub the back of your head. "He's goofy, trust me. Whenever we went to a bar, He would be there just to eat the peanuts." You tilt your head slowly to Soap and scoff in laughter. "What?" "You heard me right. I bought a bag of peanuts as a joke once and he ate them all in the base." He smiled at your reaction.
"You hate Graves, why" Soap looks down on you with a cheeky smile. "Thought I told you already." You fiddled your finger to Ghost's metal box of tea. "That was Shepherd," You parted your mouth into an 'Ooh'.
"He's American." You stated coldly.
"Dior, you're from Los Angeles."
the two of you paused for a few moments before letting out a muffled laughter. "Could you tell me a little about LA?" He leaned closer to you, "Well, It's twice more chaotic than New York. gamblers everywhere, drugs are illegally normalized, and so many kidnapping cases. It's wild crazy but I managed." You shrugged yourself, "I had a...colleague, once." Your voice faded a little lower. "She was detecting...some kind of illegal explosives transaction. It's in Chicago but one of the parties was in LA." Your gaze falls to the floor.
"...She was ambushed." You muttered but still loud enough for Soap to hear. "Could've saved her if only I was tall enough to climb a certain window. I was wearing flat combat boots that time, I haven't worn any heels to work." You weakly looked up at Soap who softened at your story.
"And since then I learned how to run, jump, and even kill people with my heels." Your eyes sharpen. "Was underestimated, but those people are six feet under now." You bit your lip and looked up at Soap, "Am I talking too much? I'm so sorry-" "Dior, it's okay." Soap rested his hand on your head, giving you a gentle pat.
"I'm sorry for your loss, must be...hard for you." He smiled at you softly. "I think doing those.. stuff in heels must be hurt. and you defeating me and the others back in that field showed enough that you are capable of being who you are right now. I think your...colleague would be proud of you, right now." Your eyes moisten a little at his comforting remark. you laughed it off softly at the comfortable moment he built for you.
He's right, no matter how the demotion has taken a chunk of your mental, you're still as perfect as you were back then. you should be proud of how far you've become. Losing or missing a piece along the way might hurt you, but one day you'll find a bigger brick to build yourself even better.
As you two were locking eye contact, out of a sudden you both screamed in terror when the bakelite top bead flung into the air from the overheated kettle pot, hitting the hanging lamp and dropping right in front of your foot. You jumped to the counter as Soap quickly turned the stove off preventing boiling water from splashing all over the stove.
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
"And with that being said, does anybody have any question?" Alejandro turned his tablet off as Rodolfo turned the projector off and stood behind Alejandro. Soap shrugged whilst Ghost was just sitting in the corner and you were doodling random drawings in your notebook. "I think that's enough. All we had to do was wait for your intel, no?" You raised your eyebrow. "Correct, I think they should be back by tomorrow before sunrise." He sat on his seat, sipping coffee. There was a slight silence before you realized something.
"Soap do you remember when we tried to eavesdrop Price-" "Captain..." Soap sipped on his Gatorade. "...I mean, Captain Price." You bit your lip in regret, "I overheard missiles were from Russians." Alejandro raised his gaze at you. "Your point is?" Soap smiles at you, he likes it when you get into critical thinking. "...Ghobrani was talking with Russians when Ghost marked him off with the missile that Graves drove..?"
You created a staring contest between Rodolfo, Alejandro, Soap, and you. Alejandro re-opened his note and cleared his throat, "Ghost what do you know?" Everyone gazes at him wearing sunglasses and a cup of tea in his hand that you brewed for him earlier. "Is he...asleep?" You held your chest in concerned. "Nah... I'm pretty sure he's dead."
⊹₊。ꕤ˚₊⊹
The night washes over the sky, your laptop clock shows '22:13'. you rolled over your bed with a slik light green robe to find a working comfort food. the good 'ol American mac n cheese. your mini mission is simple; sneak to the kitchen, use the microwave, leave. then you can continue to watch Scream Queens in your tab. And that's when it hit you. "This is the best idea I've ever had in my entire life!"
That's the worst idea you ever had in your entire life. You spat out the warm mac n cheese out of your mouth to the trash bin, wiping your lips with a tissue. it tastes unpleasantly weird. you figured that it tastes like that because it's been in your bag for nearly 3 days, it probably got soaked or expired. You washed your dishes after throwing away all the remaining mac n cheese.
"Cielita, why are you awake?" Alejandro walked passed you and rested his palms to the top of your head. "I uh, I'm sorry for using your kitchen without your permission. I craved something out of the sudden..." You looked up at him while turning off the sink. "Instead of asking for my permission for the cocina, could've ask me for food instead," He ripped out a napkin and took your hand. gently drying it from the water.
you watched his hand brushing against yours with the dry napkin as a barrier, he then toss it to the trash. "Let me show you a comfort food my mama used to cook." He smiled at you.
God, you're melting to his words. Hes the finest act-of-service man you could ever imagine God has created. You watched him going through his kitchen cupboard taking out a few ingredients.
olive oil, conchas, tomato sauce, parmesran and 2 jars that you're unsure of the content inside. "What's in this?" you pointed at it whilst he was heating up the pan. "The green one is jalapeño, exotic spices and his friends," He tapped the other jar with yellowish liquid inside. "This one is chicken broth with blackpepper, red pepper flakes, and dried oregano." he explains.
"I have my sopita salsas half-ready in the fridge for moments like this." He gave you a cheeky smile. You watched him closely. heating the oil into the pan, adding the shell pasta in, pouring a cup of water and waiting for the pasta to soften. "You wanna watch closer here, cielita?" He patted the empty kitchen counter. You pursed your lips into a thin smile and walked towards him.
You did what he said, sitting in the kitchen counter watching him cook. you could smell the jalapeño doing God's work into the pasta. you felt guilty that he heard your stomach growling.
After a few minutes in, he poured in the chicken broth and let your stir it. "Smells good doesn't it cariño?" He rested his hand to your thigh watching you taking a good sniff of the soup with the wooden spoon. "Yeah, it does." You put down the spoon and stir it gently.
"I think it's ready for the tomato sauce." He effortlessly opened the canned red sauce and began pouring it gently before continuing stir. When the soup formed, You took a smaller spoon and took a small amount of the soup, blowing it gently to cool off before tasting it. "...I think it needs garlic?" He raises his eyebrow before taking your spoon and licking it himself. Your face blushed fifty shades of red as he hummed to himself, "Must agree, I'll get the cloves."
After a few minutes of brewing, he decided to turn off the stove and let you taste it first. "Have a bite." He took smile pieces from the pan with a spoon, aiming it at you. Smiling in excitement, you leaned and blew the hot pasta from the spoon he held for you.
After chewing and shifting the pasta around your mouth for a good moment, you raised your eyebrow in surprise, "It's flavorful but in a good way, wow you're a good cook." He laughs at your compliment, "And a good cowboy." He quickly turned the stove off and shifted away to get the bowls.
You'd be lying if you say you're not flustered. He knew how to scoop your heart once in a while. "Come, have a seat." He dragged the chair for you.
He lit up a scented candle and lit it, "Is this some kind of a candle-lit dinner?" You smiled at him settling down to his seat across from you. "Now that you find it that way, then consider it as a yes." His sharp eyes soften every time he sees you.
You both ate the warm sopita in silence. It was a comfortable atmosphere, you two enjoyed each other's company. A few times whenever you took a bite, he could've sworn he saw a star being born in your orbs. the way you hummed and glinted a smile at his food, softened his heart.
"You like it, cielita?" He looked down at his bowl, "If I don't, I wouldn't be here. Honestly, I never expected someone like you to...cook. I thought you were the take-out kind of guy despite all the military stuff" You scooped up the pasta to your spoon again. "Well, no offense. I went through military too." He raised one eyebrow and chuckled.
"I aspire to be a good son for my mama. That is why I started to learn how to cook for her every time she's too sick to cook." God, something about this man is drawing you in. You should ask him what kind of hex he's using on you because it's damn well working. "Your mom must be proud of herself to have someone like you as her son," You smiled softly and picked up a spoonful of the food you both made.
He clicked his tongue in annoyance before realizing he hadn't prepared a drink. "Is there any preferred drink you'd like to have? Forgive me, I got carried away." He finished his food and got up. "Honestly, I don't mind anything." You ate the last few remains of the sopita in your bowl. "Wine?" He opened a fridge with multiple bottles that worth hundreds. "Red, would probably do..." You took your bowl and stood from the chair.
"Ay, no no no. You don't do this." He stops you while taking your bowl out of your hand. "Sit, princessa. let me serve you."
You are MELTING like an iced slushie under a hot summer in Florida. Watching his athletic figure swaying in the kitchen back and forth, his back muscles and bicep are wrapped nicely in a black collared shirt he is wearing with the sleeve rolled to his elbow. If he's giving you these gentleman treatments again, you're definitely folding.
Popping the bottle and pouring it to the glass, he places it down for you and one for him. You both clink the wine glass. After spinning it slowly and smelling the scent, you look at him with a glinting smile. "Chåteau Camou?" He raised his glass to you and sipped, "You know your drink."
"Well, I must." You laughed and shrugged it. He examined you for a few moments, giving a pause for a few minutes. You looked up at his eyes gazing deeply to you. his eyebrow is intimidating. at this point, it seemed like a staring contest, but you don't really mind. You like the way he looks, he's deadass a hot Mexican.
"Stop looking at me like that," You chuckled and leaned to the seat. "Like what?" He smirked and took another sip of his wine. "Like you want to have sex with me." You hid your smile by biting the tip of your thumb.
His smirk slowly turned into a cheeky smile, flashing you with his teeth. He laughed and rubbed his forehead, "Ride a cowboy to save a horse? how about you come sit here and we'll see where we going." He shifted his knee and tapped his thighs. You're fearless, You've got nothing to worry. It's not like he means his word anyway.
You got up from your seat and walked slowly towards him, watching his veiny hands slithering his knee up to his thigh. You bit your bottom lip and lend out your hand, he held it softly and pull you gently towards him. You sat in his lap as he places your hand to his chest.
"Eager, are we." He whispered as you leaned closer. You brushed your nose close to his cheek, breathing softly to his touch. you rammed your fingertips from his chest up to his neck, he tilts his head to you and stare. He has a brown dimming eye, the way his warm breath surfaced to your chest and neck sent electric down your spine. He grinned and placed his thumb on your chin.
There was a heavy tension between the concerning amount of space you two had. He wanted to lean closer but you kept on teasing him by dodging his lips away from you. He grunted before getting a hold of your jaw, "Stop moving, ⁸niñita."
"Make me, papi." That snapped something inside of him.
He gripped your ass, getting off the chair and carried you whilst you wrapped your legs around his waist. with no waiting, he bit your neck devouring every spot exposed. You whimpered at the pleasure hes giving whilst he still carried you with his other hand in the back of your head, stilling it so he could get a taste of you.
walking towards his presumably his room, he pushed open the door with one leg and locked it. He shifts his mouth and bites to your chest making you whine, gripping his broad shoulder like there's no tomorrow.
"You asked for it, cielita." He whispered to your ear, dropping you to his bed before kissing you passionately. you slithered your hand around his chest, up to his shoulder and bicep, feeling every single one of his body heat against yours.
nibbling your bottom lip furiously, he unbuttoned his shirt and left his chest exposed. Your abdomen and his brushing against one and another, stroking you dry but enough to make your panties damp. "Holy shit-" you pulled away from his kiss. "May I?" He tugged the ribbon that ties your body to the robe. "Only if you can make me cum." You pinched his cheek and he gave you a smug laugh.
"Bet." He pulled it off and witnessed a goddess in her lingerie, "Like what you're seeing?" You smirked at his parted lips. "The 141 has been keeping this treasure all to themself, ⁹no lo hacen?" He chuckled while tugging the vibrant color of your panties.
taking his time, Alejandro snucked his nose to your briefs, taking a deep breath to get ahold of your scent. you yelped when he slid his index into the entrance of your folds. "¹⁰huele tan bien, cielito." You raised your eyebrow and chuckled, "Nah, they don't...touch me. I mean Ghost did but not this far." you admitted. You saw his eyes rising from your thighs in surprise. "Then let me give you what Ghost didn't, no?"
He finally lifted the lace before devouring you down to his bed, flicking your clit and gripping your inner thighs defensively. You gasped softly at his moves and muffled groan. "Dios, ¹¹sabes tan dulce." He muttered beneath you.
Impatiently, he yanked your panties away and gruesomely polished your entrance. he stretched your folds with his finger, sucking you inside out while you tugged his hair holding back your moans.
His hitched breath brushed against your sensitive clit which made you feel a knot building up in your stomach. he pushed himself deeper as your release melted against his face.
"¹²Chica come so easily, hm?" He got up licking your remaining sweet sextillion-dollar fluid. "I bet you come easily too, papi." You smirked under him. His lips slowly pursed into a smug smirk, "¹³Ay coño, you don't know what you signed up for." He quickly unbuckled his belt, pulling it away from his pants before pushing both of your wrists down the mattress.
"What are you-" Your words were cut off when he flipped you over and tied your wrist down with his belt. "Let's see how far ¹⁴puedes ir." He slids his thumb to your entrance as you whined into the mattress. You could feel him taking off his pants but every time you tried to peek, he would grab you by the jaw and make you look front.
"No peeking, princesa. Let me.." 'SLAP' He spanked your entrance followed by your loud moan. arching your back enough, you could feel his tip trying to fit into your trench. "¹⁵Preparar, cielita." He pushed it in which made your ass slightly vibrated. "Fucking hell- It won't fit." you whimpered trying your best to keep your knees up.
"Really?" He smirked and pushed more of his length in, "Jesus- Please tell me tha' all- Oh Lord." You whimpered between your moan, feeling so stretched from the inside. "That was just half, ¹⁶hermosa." He pushed his length in again. "This is full."
You let out the loudest, softest moan you could ever let out. Alejandro was triumphant witnessing that. He kissed your shoulder and placed his hand on your lower stomach, circling it between. "You feel this bulge, ¹⁷cariño? you're tightening around me..." He pulled out half of his length and pushed it back slowly, grunting every few moments.
You rolled your eyes to the back of your head feeling high up in the sky, whilst he filled the void of your insides so slowly and rhythmic. "Faster, papi." His eyes widened. "Say again, ¹⁸belleza?" He stops with his whole length inside. "I said, Fas-"
He pulls out and slams himself into your cervix mercilessly. You had to gawk out a messy moan while feeling him holding back your tied wrist, bullying your insides wildly. The sound of wet skin slapping at each other filled the room, the way you felt ecstasy and a knot building inside you had gone dumbfoundedly filthy.
As he thrusts into you like a little fuck toy, you couldn't see shit. you were buried into the mattress deeply, feeling yourself overstimulated to the point where you couldn't tell if you had came or not. He fucks you so good you turned dumb at this point.
"¹⁹ven aqui, guapa." He flipped you over and pinned your wrist above your head. Now you're seeing the beautiful man above you, fucking you with your legs above his shoulders. His sweat forming around his forehead, the way he grunted and his ears turning red. you loved the way his abs and abdomen moved and smashed against you.
"This is what you longed for, cariño? this is what the ²⁰maravillo Ghost can't give you? let me show que hombres de verdad looked like."
He kissed your mouth while fucking you like a whore, squeezing your blowsy breast that peeked out of your bra. You let go of the sloppy kiss and moaned uncontrollably. "Ah, 'm gonna come."
"Then fucking come for me, mami." He whispered and bit your earlobe which made you feel tingles. He thrusted in you, slamming your insides a few times before you let out another loud lament as your juices came out. He pulled out and dunked his 7-inches to your stomach being proud his sword had weakened you, letting his thick vanilla ooze around your stomach and hips.
You breathed out heavily, feeling so much emotions penting up in your head and sex. He chuckled before leaning down on you to take his belt off your wrist. feeling freed, you closed your eyes and bit your lip. "Wow.", He places his forehead to your knee, planting soft little kisses around you before looking up at your gaze. "Wow?" He smiled.
You tilt your head to his bedside, looking at the digital clock that drew at 2.30 am. he noticed this and layed beside you, not forgetting to give you a peck on the lips and forehead. "Rest?" He spooned you from behind. "Rest." You smiled weakly.
"I'll wake you up in an hour and half so we have enough time to clean up, como suena eso, chica?" He presses his nose to the back of your hair and wraps his hands along your waist. "²¹si si..." Your head was too high in the clouds to translate any words outside English.
As the moonlight shines through his dark curtains, you and Alejandro were sound asleep. enjoying each other's company, one and another. Clearly unaware of someone hearing you moaning a little too loud.
some spanish translation 101໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -。꒱ྀི১
(forgive if I got some wrong)
~ Relax - Relajar
~ How does that sound - como suena eso
~ What real men - Que hombres de verdad
1. Oh God - Dios mio
2. Sweetie - Cielita
3. Sir - Señor
4. Thank You - Gracias
5. I'm scared of (him) Ghost - Tengo miedo de los fantasmas
6. Easy (calm down) - tranquilo
7. drug trafficker - Narcos
8. little girl - Niñita
9. dont they - no lo hacen
10. smells so good - huele tan bien
11. taste so sweet - sabes tan dulce
12. (beautiful) girl - chica
13. oh fuck - ay coño
14. (this) can go - puedes ir
15. prepare - preparan
16. beautiful - hermosa
17. dear - cariño
18. beauty - belleza
19. come here beautiful - ven aqui guapa
20. marvelous (masculine) - maravillo
21. yes yes - si si
62 notes · View notes
jo-harrington · 8 months
Text
As Above, So Below - Chapter 1: Illumination
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Previous Chapter: Prologue - Annunciation
Summary: You embark on a long journey and you face the ghosts of your past.
Word Count: 10k
Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Original Character (Written in 2nd Person POV - You/Your - No Use of Names of Physical Descriptors)
Warnings/Themes: Religious Themes, Criticism of Religion/Catholicism, Fate vs. Free Will, Mentions of Death and Injury, Mention of Suicide, Established Relationship, Romance, Supernatural Encounters, Angst, Difficult Family Relationships, Biblical and Other Literary/Media References
Note: As we start getting into the meat of the story, I would like to remind everyone to read the Prequels. Especially Purgatory as we will be stepping in right where Purgatory left off.
The categorization for this story is also no longer xReader, but xOC; however, I will still be writing from the same POV and I will still be vague about our Knight's physical characteristics and name. Please see either the Prologue for the note about her background to set the expectation for yourself before you begin to read the this chapter as we will be getting further details of her origins.
This series will not be for the faint of heart, nor is it something that was written with a general audience in mind. Please check the above warnings and ask yourself if you are in the correct headspace to proceed. I am happy to answer any questions via PM or Ask.
You can find my masterlist here.
Please do not interact if you are not 18+.
Enjoy!
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“A hero is an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles.” — Christopher Reeve
October 5th, 1987
Don't be afraid.
You waited restlessly in what could only be described as a receiving line as a black car pulled up and a figure in red emerged from the back.
Don't back down.
With every step he took, another person shook his hand, bowed to kiss his signet ring in respect, and you could feel your resolve begin to crumble.
Don't show weakness.
Finally, he made it to you.
There was no real greeting, no pleasantries. He could put on a show, but it wasn't hard to detect everything rotten beneath the surface.
The newly-appointed Cardinal Jinette had no fondness for you.
"It's good to see you being useful in a time of need," he greeted backhandedly.
Nor did you have any for him.
"I'm only meant to do as I'm told, isn't that right?" you countered trying to hold back the venom in your voice.
He held his hand out and you shook it, but avoided the show of respect. You didn't even look at his ring. He wasn't entitled to it. You gripped his hand tighter as he tried to move on from you.
"We need to talk."
The serene expression that he had schooled himself to give turned hard and impatient, and he reluctantly motioned for you to follow him as he continued down the line.
As he led a prayer for the congregants, you reflected and prepared yourself for the battle ahead.
It had been a few days since the earthquake rocked Los Angeles; countless buildings were damaged and destroyed. The death toll was low, but the number of people injured and missing got higher by the day. The church, of course, became a beacon of hope and refuge as it usually did. People flocked, people prayed and lit candles, they begged God for mercy.
So one would think that you, acting on behalf of the church—on behalf of God—would be put to use in the best of ways. To heal, and fix, for once, instead of strike and destroy.
You had been eager for it, craved it.
But for someone like you there was a line that couldn't be crossed. Rules that couldn't be broken. And when you had shown up at the cathedral amidst chaos after returning to the city from your hike, you had been told to stay out of the way. To let the people who could help in a meaningful way do so.
There would be no healing, no peace, no comfort for those afflicted by tragedy.
"An act of God," Jinette began, because there could be no other explanation. "An act of God requires no miracles; there is nothing to fix."
Miracles?
Was that what he thought they were?
Your nonna always told you that you were destined for miracles. It was in your blood. You'd follow in your father's footsteps and your grandfathers. Save the world from darkness through miracles.
Your father would laugh, though, as he packed his bag to leave on yet another mission for a God that damned him. You'd sit, too young to truly understand her hopeful devotion and his cynicism, and ask what Nonna meant. What miracles he was going to perform.
"Miracles are for Saints. Not for us."
You could have put up a fight. You should have. You should have pushed to make a difference and end someone's suffering but Jinette knew what buttons to press to get you to back down.
Especially since you carried the guilt that the earthquake was your fault in the first place.
Jinette sent you away to a place where he didn't need to look at you, where you could make the least amount of noise.
If only he knew the irony in his choice: the Misión San Gabriel Arcángel.
You swore you heard Gabriel's stiff, judgmental hum as you stepped through the gates. A warning that he could watch you here...watch you anywhere. A reminder that the clock was ticking and fate was waiting.
You helped with disaster relief efforts for days. Walked through the neighborhood passing out food and water, helped set up shelter in the rectory building, and prepared care packages.
Some of the historic buildings on the property had sustained damage in the quake; plaster gave way to show concerning cracks in the adobe below. So you volunteered to go into the chapel to survey the integrity of the building and see if it could be used to safely shelter people who had been displaced from their homes. If an aftershock occurred and the building collapsed, you could get yourself out when others could not.
You had done it before, after all.
However, the most important task you undertook was answering the rectory phone, and it was the reason your eyes burned a hole through the back of Jinette's skull.
He said his final amen, offered some additional handshakes, and then turned on his heel and started towards the cemetery on the grounds. You were quick to follow.
There was an uneasiness that filled you as you stepped past the cemetery gates and onto the grass, an unsettling energy. Not aimed towards you...but at Jinette...
You had always been receptive to the dead, but it had never manifested like this before.
It was a Mission, after all. What else did you expect?
"So," Jinette began and sat on one of the small stone benches. "What have you done now?"
"W-what have I done?" you choked on your words. You shouldn't have been surprised by his dismissal of you. "Why would you assume it's something I've done?"
"Because it's the truth of your soul, child. You sin again and again, you ask for penance, you're sent on another task to find it."
How dare he speak of penance. How dare he set foot on their graves. How dare he disturb their rest. How dare he talk about miracles and healing and peace and sin and forgiveness.
Thoughts bubbled up inside of you like heartburn and fed on your internalized wrath. Thoughts that were not your own.
You pushed them back and tried to focus on the task at hand. You wouldn't get anywhere if you weren't careful.
"I haven't done anything..." you explained. "Yet."
"Ah, you see?" He smirked and clapped his hands, triumphant that his assumption was correct.
"I need to go."
"Go? Go where?"
"Father Arnold had me on the phones yesterday," you began your explanation. "People calling for supplies, to help arrange funerals...standard calls you might expect in this circumstance. But there was one call that...was interesting...concerning.
"Someone from the Geological Survey. Calling to let us know that someone would be out, to the mission specifically...to survey some kind of fault line that might have contributed to the damage. I'm not entirely sure; my father made sure I knew scriptures not science. What was interesting, though, was that he said this earthquake wasn't the only one that happened on Thursday.
"There was another one. Several, in fact, In Indiana. Hawkins. And that—”
Jinette's laughter cut you off and your stomach turned. You could hear the hissing at the back of your mind as the spirits grew restless once again.
"That's what this is about?" he asked incredulously. "Your...silly fascination with Hawkins?"
"It's not a fascination."
"Obsession. With that boy."
"It isn't about Eddie," you scoffed. "Hawkins was already the sight of an atrocity. The...the monsters...the portal...I told you all about it. What if this is related?"
"You didn't seem to think the last earthquake was an atrocity."
No, you hadn't thought so.
There hadn't been a reason for you to think otherwise.
Your thoughts were only on Eddie, not Hawkins. Who cared about the town when he was gone? When he waited for you? Your focus and determination was to undo the curse so you could be with him. More determined than your predecessors ever had been, surely, to reach the ultimate prize.
Love. Forgiveness. Salvation. Rest.
You toed the line between life and death countless times over the past 18 months, you never declined a mission. You became the mindless sword you were destined to be...and it still wasn't enough.
The weariness you had felt before Eddie's death had only increased tenfold. There seemed to be no end in sight.
Then the Earth below Hawkins shook and cracked and split open once again. For 7 days it had been rumbling with some frequency, unexplained.
But there were no such things as coincidences. For Gabriel to show his face here, after something happened in Hawkins again...
"I've changed my mind," you finally answered. "It must have been related. Something infernal. I have a gut feeling, I have to follow it."
"There's a proclivity to temptation in your blood. You know this."
How dare he speak of temptation. Ask about his temptation. Ask him what he did to earn the scarlet robe. He's hungry for power. Power over you.
"It isn't temptation," you argued. "It's a genuine concern. We should at least investigate."
"Have you tried calling? Any of your friends in Hawkins? Called anybody?"
"I have. The phone lines are down. Everywhere. Even the Pizza Parlor. Hawkins went dark...over a week ago it seems."
"Because of the earthquake. There is nothing nefarious there."
"But what if it is? If you're not going to let me go, ask someone else," you begged. "We can contact the Order. It wouldn't hurt to ask."
The two of you talked over one another to convince each other to see reason. You knew you needed to go, and Jinette was desperate for you to stay.
"You have no connection to Hawkins anymore," Jinette raised his voice and stomped his foot down in finality as he rose from the bench.
The anger bubbled up inside you once again and your throat tightened, the hissing of the spirits just as loud in your ear as Jinette’s.
Tell him. Tell him that a power greater than him demands your presence.
"Your little...boyfriend is dead. You have work to do elsewhere. You're better off doing work here, helping people here."
Tell him his rotten little existence is eclipsed by the majesty that awaits you.
“Instead of playing into your little fantasy where you can make up for being unable to save him.”
Tell him to go to Hell and then let us drag him there.
You let out a screech for them to shut up, all of them. Your voice echoed through the cemetery, bounced off headstones and monuments and columbariums.
Then the ground began to violently shake.
You began to shake.
You trembled with fury at a frequency that easily penetrated the earth and rippled out from you.
Jinette lost his balance and fell back on the bench as he stared at you in shock. Frantic shouts could be heard from beyond the walls that enclosed the graveyard. Cars beeped and crashed on the road as drivers lost control.
Across from the mission was the Civic Theater; it was another historic monument in devotion to your Guardian, with three bell towers situated proudly atop it. As the tremors increased, the bells started to sway. The distressed ringing emulated screams and cries for help as the adobe began to crack and give way around them.
“Please,” they seemed to beg in harmony. “We are innocent.”
But their cries fell on unsympathetic ears, and you watched with a dark, sick glee as one of the bell towers broke and crashed through the roof into the auditorium below.
You knew no one was hurt. You could feel it.
But Jinette did not.
"Stop this, stop! Enough" He shouted, pleaded. You recentered yourself and the tremors stopped.
“What have you done?” He asked in disgust. “What have you done?! You’re meant to save the innocent, protect them. You’re a monster!”
You quickly closed the distance between you and he flinched.
“If I’m a monster, it is because you made me one Father,” you hissed at him.
“Then may God find the mercy to save you,” he whispered.
"God isn’t going to save me. I’m going to save myself.”
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October 7th, 1987
It was unfair to say that you didn't have any supporters within the church; there were a few people who could even be considered as having a fondness for you. A handful of nuns, the old priest at the parish back home, maybe maybe the Pope if you were really pushing it; he remembered your name once.
The other members of the Holy Order itself...well that was complicated.
However, as soon as you effectively burned bridges with Jinette, the number dwindled even further. And it was evident as you set foot on the grounds of the cathedral to collect your things.
You had only grabbed the bare minimum to go to the Mission on Jinette's orders and the rest had been stored away in some spare room in the rectory. But no matter who you asked, you never got a straight answer.
"The Cardinal had us put your things in storage."
"Your bags? We were told they were to be donated."
"Are you sure you didn't bring them along with you? Maybe a prayer to St. Anthony if you've misplaced them."
One of the nuns who usually had a sweet smile and prayer for you even made the sign of the cross as you went to ask for her help.
You stared at her in shock as she scurried away from you as quickly as she could. You covered your face and groaned.
You shouldn't have done what you did, you knew it...it was just...enough was enough. And you couldn't undo it now. You just...you knew you needed to get to Hawkins, desperately, and if Jinette wasn't going to loosen your leash enough to let you go, after you destroyed yourself for the church—for him—you knew you needed to break free.
But you also needed more than a dirty change of clothes and the handful of bills you had tucked into the glovebox of your car.
"UGH! For fuck's sak--"
"Sorry, did you need help?" a soft voice interrupted you, and as you peeled your hands away to see who the newcomer was, you found yourself vaguely remembering the woman. "Oh, it's you."
She looked different from the last time—the only time—you saw her. She had a coif and veil covering her hair now, and a maroon apron over her blouse and skirt. Not a nun yet, still a novice.
"Mary...Victoria, right?" you recalled. She smiled and nodded, then glanced to the sides.
"I, uh, don't think you're really welcome here anymore," she whispered conspiratorially. "The Cardinal is...really mad; he might have...banned you from the Cathedral."
"Tell me something I don't know." You rolled your eyes. "I just need to get my stuff. I'm making a run for it."
"Oh?" Her eyes brightened. "Where are you going? Official Knight's Business?"
"Less official and more..." You took a breath and tried to find the right words.
She had already been kinder to you than anyone else you'd come across, and could potentially get herself into trouble just for talking to you. It was strange, though, how clearly you remembered the mischief in her when you met.
"...more the exact reason I'm banned from the cathedral in the first place."
Mary Victoria laughed wickedly and nodded.
"Quick getaway, got it. I've been kinda looking for one of those myself."
She was?
She motioned for you to follow her and she led you through the maze of hallways in the rectory to a room that only a select few would see: the sacristy.
It was the room where the priests would prepare for mass, and especially now that Jinette was a Cardinal, it held a larger array of vestments and vessels. Atop a cabinet in the middle of the room was a white cassock and stole...and your duffel bag, the contents of which had been spread out along the cabinet, obviously rifled through.
Mary Victoria quickly tried to make some sort of excuse, that the Cardinal was just taking a tally of your things, maybe to return everything to you...but you both knew she was just doing it to spare your feelings.
Jinette was never intending to return your things.
You wondered, as you scoffed and shoved your clothes and books back into the bag, how many times this had been done before. By how many "well-meaning" priests and bishops and cardinals. They never took anything—they might have been assholes but they never broke a commandment...besides you would have noticed—but it still made you feel...less than.
Could you be surprised though? Over the years it had been made obvious to you that you weren't...a real person in the church's eyes. Especially to those like Jinette. Thus, the things that belonged to you...weren't really yours either. You were not allowed nice things, not allowed a life.
You hoisted your bag over your shoulder and the two of you made a quick getaway out of the rectory.
Mary Victoria hesitantly asked questions as you walked to fill the silence—where you were going, what you were planning to do when you got there—and you wanted to answer her as truthfully as possible, but you didn't really know what would be waiting for you in Hawkins.
"I'm sorry." She sighed and shook her head when you took a little longer to answer. "I know you can't say much."
"No it's not that," you tried to explain, but she continued.
"The first time I heard about the Order, I just thought it sounded so interesting. Fighting against evil, like something in a movie. But then we weren't allowed to ask any questions. We were told to avoid you unless you needed assistance. That's it. Not who you were or what you did or how to become one."
That was another surprise.
"You want to...be a Knight of the Holy Order?"
"I mean I gue—"
"Sister!" a stern voice echoed from behind you and the two of you stopped in your tracks. Mary Victoria suddenly looked like a deer in the headlights. "Where do you think you're going?"
"Mother Superior!" Mary Victoria greeted the older woman in shock. "I was just showing my friend here the way to the exit."
You recognized her. For most of your acquaintance, she had been Sister Kathleen; she was a severe woman and incredibly devout. She'd come to Los Angeles from Chicago, which is where you met her, once upon a time. She had known you for longer than she would probably ever admit, and disliked you for just as long.
She had been your kindergarten teacher.
What had taken her from teaching children to running an abbey...well that was between Kathleen and God, but somewhere deep down, you liked to think it was because of you. She was not the kindest woman, and you weren't like all of the other children under her care.
You were young and not in control of your abilities yet, but you suppose that was just your Mother's excuse for the number of fires that had been started...one for each of the lies that Kathleen had told.
Because of this Kathleen, much like Jinette, had never been your biggest fan, and it was made obvious as she pushed between you and Mary Victoria, as if to form a barrier. She narrowed her eyes at you in distrust, but you just smiled innocently.
You were leaving; what more could she want?
"I think she can find her own way out," Kathleen concluded sharply. "Mass is starting shortly; we shouldn't be late."
"Oh but, we were discussing the Holy Order," Mary Victoria explained. "About her next mission."
"How many times have you been told to leave the Knights alone, Sister," Kathleen hissed at her, then her eyes slid to you. "Especially this one. Now, we must go."
Mary Victoria nodded solemnly, and followed after Kathleen without another word.
It didn't take much effort for you to reach out and feel the despair within her. You didn't know much about Mary Victoria—you didn't know anything—but it felt as though she was a candle that was slowly being snuffed out. Fighting, desperate for life, for light...unable to do anything but suffocate.
How many times had you felt that way over the years?
You made your way out of the cathedral, threw your things in the backseat, and got situated, ready to begin your journey. But the entire time, as you started your car and you dug through your glovebox to find a tape, your thoughts were occupied by Mary Victoria.
She wasn't a friend, she was a stranger. Someone who you met twice, briefly, in this long, unending nightmare that was your life.
She was also someone who helped you, twice, even if she didn't have to.
But that was a part of her vow, part of her becoming a nun...wasn't it? Helping people in need. She chose to be in this situation, chose to do good.
By that same logic, wasn't that part of your deal as well? Part of your vow, part of your curse?
You could have chosen to live the life you wanted. To indulge in freedom and happiness like every other person on the planet and to choose free will. Plenty of your predecessors had done it. But you chose to keep playing this game. Chose to keep fighting evil and helping people, even if the way you helped them...really only did more harm than good sometimes.
You didn't owe her anything.
But what did people owe one another, other than kindness and consideration and respect.
She was being snuffed out, and if you didn't help her...who else would?
"Fuck it!" You yanked your key out of the ignition, jumped out of the car, and then ran back into the cathedral.
You dipped your hand into the holy water and did a vague sign of the cross as you walked into the chapel and beelined straight for the group of nuns at the front. Mary Victoria was sitting beside Mother Kathleen in the middle of the group. You knelt at the end of their pew and whispered to her.
"Psst, Mare? Hey Mare!" She went wide-eyed at the sight of you; all of the nuns did, actually, and Mother Kathleen's face puffed with anger.
"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded but you ignored her. You were on a mission.
A side quest, Eddie would have called it. Save a damsel in distress before going on your mission. Like Taran saved Eilonwy on his quest to find Hen Wen.
"Do you wanna be a Knight?" You kept your focus on Mary Victoria.
"This is blasphemous!"
"What are you doing?" Mary Victoria hissed fearfully in question. The other nuns and novitiates also cowered at the anger of their leader.
"You said it yourself, everyone's supposed to steer clear of the Knights unless they need help," you explained. "So I'm here asking for help. I think you might be the best fit. You already saved my ass twice."
"Foul language in the church—"
"Seriously?"
"—banned from this cathedral already—"
"I think we need to hit the road before the opening hymn starts, so if you could make a decision quickly so I'm not actually crucified, that would be great?" You held your hands together in a plea and Mary Victoria sighed.
It was the longest two seconds of your life as she got to her feet and pulled the veil off her head. She shoved it in Mother Kathleen's hand then pressed a kiss to her cheek with a quick "forgive me" and then shimmied her way past the other nuns to get to you.
"You're really twisting my arm here.” She rolled her eyes sarcastically and then motioned for you to go.
The two of you made it out of the doors of the Cathedral just as the bell tower began to ring at the top of the hour and the organist hit the first chord for the entrance procession.
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When you had first moved into your little apartment in Hawkins, oh so long ago it seemed, a conflict rose inside of you.
It had been empty; barebones made of walls and cabinets and avocado-colored appliances...but not much else. You were expected to fill the barren space and turn it into a home. It was such a daunting task; so much of who you were had been left behind. How could you create comfort when you had nothing to work with? Nothing to go off of?
But you had been on the road for so long, free to do whatever and go wherever you please, that it quickly became a cage. The simple act of defining who you were was something you actively fought. You hid every part of you away from everyone, because surely if no one knew who you were...you didn't need to know either.
Eddie had ultimately been the person who helped you find yourself. He saw the part of you that even you struggled to see. He helped you find comfort in a cage because it was the blank slate you were looking for. You just didn't realize it yet.
Now here you were, back in a cage that was both vast and barren, yet never big enough to provide the freedom it belied.
But it wasn't a cage for you; it was for Eddie.
A cage that he created for himself, whether he realized it or not.
One with bars that he, at first, threw himself against and rattled restlessly as he called for a warden that would never come. As he begged for the parts of himself that he left behind, that he willingly gave away. He could get them back, all he needed was a way out.
You would reach through the bars and whisper sweet words of comfort, promising that you would find the key. You gave him all that you could of himself, reminded him of what it was he left. It was everything you could spare but it wasn't enough to sate him.
Little by little hands began to pull him back, pull him away.
Claw him away.
"Please don't go," you begged. "I'll help you, just stay."
"I'm hungry," he moaned. "So hungry."
More hands flocked to him, ready to provide the sustenance that you barely could. They filtered it back into him, to repay the debt they owed. Because this was not a cage to them, this was their playground.
If you couldn't help make it a home for him, they surely would.
You tried to pry them away but they laughed at you, mocked you; they were stronger than you were, their will to keep him for themselves stronger than yours to save him.
Because as Eddie got weaker, so did you.
To provide for him, you starved yourself.
And one day, it would kill you.
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Your world tilted and you woke up as a horn blared in your ears and the car swerved on the highway.
"Fuck you, fucking asshole!" Mary Victoria shouted. "Learn how to drive."
One thing you quickly learned about Mary Victoria was that she was a terrible driver.
The car swerved again and you grabbed the dashboard before you were flung out through the windshield.
Well, maybe not terrible, just...a little reckless.
"Mare? What's going on?"
"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up." She gripped the steering wheel tighter and bared her teeth. "It really wasn't my fault; this guy decided to merge last second without putting his signal on. Almost took us out. Fucker."
She also swore like a sailor.
Which was not...mutually exclusive with becoming a nun...but as soon as the two of you warmed up to each other, you learned that the careful and meek personality that she schooled herself into when in a house of God was not the real Mary Victoria underneath.
It honestly sparked your curiosity.
She had, quite literally, nothing but the clothes on her back when she jumped into your car and you left Los Angeles 18 hours ago. You had offered to stop at the abbey to pick up any of her things, and she hesitated.
"I mean...I don't have anything...worth stopping for," she explained vaguely. "Maybe underwear...uh...some extra habits. I didn't have a whole lot when I joined the Sisters, so I don't have a whole lot now."
So you stopped at the first Kmart you passed to pick up some supplies for her.
"It's on me," you insisted when she tried to explain she didn't have cash either. "Since you helped me get my stuff back and you’re potentially going headfirst into danger with me."
She talked a mile a minute as she scanned through the racks of clothes.
Would she need warm weather? Cold weather? These boots looked like they might be good for running in; would you be doing any running?
"Just dress comfortably," you explained, motioning down to your own clothes. A black t-shirt, ripped jeans that had seen better days, scuffed boots, and a canvas jacket that actually belonged to Mickey Caldwell once upon a time. He left it at Eddie's trailer when he went off to college so Eddie insisted it was fair game.
He had ripped off the patches that featured some of Mickey's favorite questionable bands and had found a few that suited your tastes more. You spent an afternoon helping him with his English homework as he stitched them on for you.
"We could be helping with disaster relief, or we could be...jumping out of the way of a creature that's trying to rip our throats out. It's a tossup."
Her eyes got wide but she understood. Her selection was pretty plain, consisting of the essentials. The most exciting article of clothing she insisted on, though, was a brown, imitation suede jacket that hung on her more like a cloak.
"It looks like one I used to have, if that's ok?" she twirled back and forth a bit.
You wouldn’t have said no even if she didn’t explain; her smile was infectious.
Then, at your first stop for gas, she insisted on taking shifts driving so you wouldn’t have to stop for the night...as long as you could grab her a pack of cigarettes.
"Or two, actually. They made me quit cold turkey, and it was brutal," she explained. "But I haven't driven in...a good few years so that would really help me survive this trip."
You got her three packs of Virginia Slims, one of which she chainsmoked during her first 8-hour shift, cigarette perpetually hanging from her lips as she cruised and swerved along I-15.
There was a lot of honking and a lot of singing along with the radio—she even made a joke about stopping in Vegas—but eventually it started getting dark and you both needed to rest.
You insisted that she take the first rest, mostly so you could have some time to think.
"As long as you're fine driving at night," she asked while she got settled.
Of course, you were. You'd spent plenty of nights wandering abandoned roads and ignoring the things that lurked outside of the vehicle, right at the corners of your vision.
You woke her up at an oasis at the crack of dawn to gently wake her up and grab breakfast, before you took your own rest that came to an abrupt stop by—
"GET OVER. STOP STRADDLING THE LANE PAL!"
Mary Victoria laid her hand on the horn again until the box truck in front of you picked a lane. Her hand shot in front of your face to flip the bird at the driver as she accelerated past him.
—By that.
"Good morning to me," you muttered.
"Sorry," she repeated sheepishly.
"Where are we?"
"Somewhere in Iowa." She pointed to the road map that was draped on the dashboard and tapped at a certain mile marker. "We just passed this rest stop...looks like there might be a truck stop coming up...or I can try to turn around if you really need to pee."
What you really needed was to be in the driver's seat.
"I don't mind waiting," you insisted and shifted in the seat now that you weren't in danger from being thrown from the car. "Some nice driving you're doing Mare."
"Listen," she said with a warning tone. "I said I was sorry."
"No, it's funny. The swearing, the honking, the smoking. Not entirely convinced you weren't joking about Vegas either."
"I'll have you know that Sister Prudence talks about the river boat casino that was a half hour from her last convent like it's Disneyland. Nuns just wanna have fun too."
"You're devoted to piety, to God."
"Ah, ah, ah," she tutted and shook a finger at you. "Not devoted to God yet."
"See? There's some hesitation in there," you pointed right back at her. She slapped your hand away. "You're looking for a loophole. How did you decide you wanted to be a nun anyway?”
Her smile was a strange one, nostalgic almost...or as though there was an inside joke between her and...God...the Devil...you would never know.
"That's a long story," she insisted.
"We have nothing but time," you countered.
She leaned back and threw an arm over the back of the bench seat to grab the bag full of treat wrappers and supplies for her cigarettes. She lit one up and then started her tale.
“Yeah it’s…I mean." She immediately paused. "Ok so...yeah I guess I can admit I'm kind of on the fence about it. But can you blame me? It's a huge commitment, and I've already been doing it for years. But every step I get closer to the finish line...I dunno...something just doesn't seem right.
"I've done a lot of healing though, they've helped me out so much. So how can I change my mind now? I used to be...such a miserable person. You know when you just...get into trouble—well I guess you wouldn't know...which hey that how did you become a Knight anyway? Remind me to ask you that again later—but you get into enough trouble and people tell you that the only thing left to do is pray? Well I did.
"Los Angeles...Hollywood...I was gonna be a star, and I ran away from home and my mother told me...well she told me that I was..."
Mary Victoria clamped her mouth shut for a second. A split second. But you saw her lip quiver. She immediately sucked on the cigarette, a deep and hungry inhale, like she needed the hot tobacco to burn through the painful thoughts.
"Well anyway...it's actually not easy to become a star, especially when you come from nothing and you end up...racking up a lot of debt. And then I had this awful boyfriend who got me into more debt and he wasn't even that good in bed but he said he had connections, you know? He did have connections. Said he was gonna help me and I believed him.
"The next thing I know, I'm single, I've been evicted, I have nothing but the clothes on my back and maybe $20 in my pocket. I'm sobbing...like mascara running down the face sobbing. Walking down Hollywood Boulevard and it's literally about to rain. So I pray."
She rolled her window down and flicked the butt out. She then put her hands together in prayer.
"Please God, I just need a sign, I need a chance so I don't just step into traffic right now. I made a mistake, please can you help me. AND BOOM!" She clapped her hands together. "There's this light. I open my eyes and the El Capitan Marquee is right in front of me and wouldn't you know, standing in line are this group of nuns getting tickets to Splash. Fucking. Splash."
It could have been the ridiculous situation the two of you had found yourselves in or a general lack of sleep or just the bond that two people made while driving in a car together, but you both broke out in hysterical laughter. Because the image was just too much to really wrap your mind around.
By the time you overcame the levity, you were approaching the truck stop, and as you perused new snacks, used the restrooms, and filled your tank, she finished the rest of her story.
Sister Bernadette got her a ticket for the movie and dinner that night, offered her a place to stay, and then by morning was asking if she ever considered devoting herself to God.
"And the rest was history," she explained. "Listen, I couldn't have said no. I asked God for help and He gave it to me."
"Did He?" you asked.
"Didn't He?" she parroted.
"You literally jumped when I offered for you to come with me." You shrugged. "I don't think that's...I don't know, devotion."
"What are you devoted to then?" she questioned and something shifted inside you at her words.
You stopped in your tracks as you walked back to your car from inside the convenience store, but Mary Victoria kept talking, hands waving to emphasize your point as you stewed in your own self doubt.
"Why are you in the Holy Order if not to serve God? If not to devote yourself to a righteous cause and to stand for the good of the world against the approaching darkness?"
A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, recollection of a thousand terrible things that you had done in the name of Goodness. And yes some of them were for the greater good, but...the rest?
What had it all been for?
She suddenly realized you weren't beside her and she turned back to you and balked when she saw what must have been a miserable expression.
"Is that what they say about the Holy Order?" you asked tensely.
"Uh..." She swallowed. "I mean...yeah. They don't say a lot. But...I mean...you're heroes."
You quickly approached her and grabbed the keys from her hand so you could drive.
"No," you said darkly. "We're not."
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October 9th, 1987
The last leg of your trip started off tense. You barely said a word. Mary Victoria tried to make a joke now and again but it didn't get much of a reaction from you.
Soon you approached Chicago and the radio stations became familiar, sounds and shock jocks that you'd heard for most of your life. You didn't even second guess yourself before you rocketed your car off the highway and through familiar streets.
Mary Victoria had never been to Chicago before, so before you made your final pitstop, you took her to Gene and Judes. Maybe a chance to have a last little something nice before you potentially walked into the jaws of Hell itself.
"So...no Ketchup?" she cracked as she peeled the paper away from her hot dog. "And why is the relish...like...that color?"
"You're kidding right?" you asked with your own mouth full.
"Yes I'm kidding," she rolled her eyes. "Listen...I didn't...I didn't get to say thank you. I know...I-I gave you some shit...and I've been apologizing pretty much since we left LA, but I never said thank you. For helping me out."
"You've helped me out. You're still helping me out," you reminded her.
"Still, please...let me...." she fumbled with her words, but you stopped her.
"You can thank me if I get you back to LA alive," you insisted.
The two of you finished your dinner and then you headed for your home base. A tiny bungalow house with a half-dead lawn and a line of religious statues in the window of the front room—Saint Anthony, Saint Michael, Saint Gabriel, Our Lady of Mount Carmel—to let any curious passersby know that the house was blessed and protected.
You pulled up to an open spot at the curb and told Mary Victoria to wait in the car, you wouldn't be very long.
And you weren't.
The house was still half in disarray from when you moved in after your Nonna passed last Fall. Your mother insisted on selling the old house, but gave you a share of the money and left you with boxes filled with secrets and walls that contained ghosts while she went to enjoy what was left of her own life.
"25 years since I met your father," she said as you begged her not to go. "I just can't do this anymore."
You didn't need much. Everything you were looking for was in your bedroom and the kitchen. You hesitated as you were about to leave and grabbed a small amulet that was hanging by the door: a red horn capped with a golden crown.
You could use all the luck you could get.
And that luck immediately evaded you because when you got back outside, Mary Victoria was at the back of your car with the trunk popped open, and she stared at the contents in confusion.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You asked as you jogged down your porch steps to get to her.
You tried to push the trunk closed but she held both hands against it and begged.
"What the fuck is all of this?"
You glanced into the trunk and assessed your possessions. Things you tried to ignore most of the time, but had come to help you out in a pinch.
Jars and boxes and books. A larger tome that was a family bible-turned-diary that belonged to a great-great-grandfather. You vaguely remembered your own grandfather reading to you from it as a young child, but you had read it yourself countless times in the past year.
Two large iron crucifixes, all engraved with hyacinths, were tucked in a bag at the back. A set of knives that matched. A revolver with silver bullets that you honestly debated throwing into a river when you opened the trunk for the first time after you had run away from home. Your destiny followed you whether you liked it or not.
It was your grandfather's car, and all of his tools of the trade. And while you didn't have much memory of him, the contents spoke volumes about who he had been and why he met his demise.
"Supplies," you explained.
"I thought you were running in for supplies."
"Different supplies."
"I don't think jars of peppers are supplies," she countered. She reached into the trunk and opened the drawstring of a burlap sack. "I don't think a bag of bones is a supply."
"Keep your voice down," you hissed and forced her hands away and shoved the trunk closed. "The neighbors are nosy. Why are you snooping anyway?"
You got into the driver's seat and immediately hung the amulet around your rearview mirror alongside the existing black cord and tassel and a guitar pick on a ball chain that already hung there. Mary Victoria was quick to slide into the passenger's side and pin you with an inquisitive stare.
"Another pepper? Is that the supply you went in to get?" she asked.
"No but it doesn't hurt to have," you replied.
"It's a pepper," she deadpanned.
"It's a cornicello, it's for luck," you explained and started the car. "It's...an Italian superstition thing."
"You're supposed to be a Holy Knight, not...superstitious. What's this then?" she flicked at the cord that now tangled with the amulet. "Is it a...uh...ARGH! See I can't even think of one because it's not the same."
"They're one in the same," you insisted. "Ok, rule number one about being a Knight of the Holy Order? It's true. It's all true. Everything you know. Everything you don't. Things you couldn't even fathom? They're true."
"So God is real."
"Sure."
"What does that mean?"
"What is God?" you countered. "There could be one, there could be many. There is a Heaven and a Hell. Or you might find Nirvana. Or you could be sent to Jahannam. Or you're reincarnated. Magic and superstition and miracles and damnation. All of it exists. Or nothing does and we exist in chaos and that is explanation enough for all of the shit we see.
"That's the truth you have to face when you become a Knight, and it sucks."
"I..." She sunk into her seat, slightly shocked. Dejected? You couldn't tell. "Ok."
You had a good hour of silence as you got on the Tri-State and crossed into Indiana. But you couldn't even enjoy it because guilt roiled inside of you.
Shit.
Because she was a nun and she was devoted, even if the devotion was on shaky ground, and it was a hard pill to swallow. It had been a hard pill for you to swallow—well, your whole life was the biggest horse pill that had ever been manufactured—when your father had told you at 9 years old that everything you had been told was a lie and that you wouldn't have a First Communion with the other kids because...
You needed something to fill the silence.
You reached across the car to open the glovebox and you pulled a cassette out. An old mixtape with a label that had faded over time; it was skipping in some places but still brought you some comfort.
You shoved it into the cassette player and Ozzy's echoing voice softly filled the car as Bark at the Moon started.
"You don't have a Black Sabbath patch on your jacket," Mary Victoria said softly after a few beats.
"You like metal?" You looked over with a quirked brow.
"Eh that deadbeat ex boyfriend was all about it," she shrugged. "Had wannabe rock stars in and out of our apartment all the time. What about you?"
"I like it but my boyfriend was probably more like the wannabe rock stars than your boyfriend," you explained fondly, thinking of his stupid grin the first time he successfully swung his guitar over his shoulder at the end of a gig at the Hideout.
"You have a boyfriend?" Mary Victoria scoffed.
"Is that so hard to believe?"
"No I just...I don't know. I guess I have questions."
"Ok."
"What, like you're gonna tell me everything?"
"Sure," you agreed. She had told you about her life...you probably owed her some answers. You owed yourself some too, if you were honest. "Ask away."
"Is he a Knight too?" she immediately jumped at the opening. "Your boyfriend?"
"No, he's..." You bit your lip for a second. "No he didn't know I was involved with any of this. And...now he's dead so...guess it's too late."
"Oh Christ," she gasped. "I'm...I'm so sorry I didn't mean to—"
"No it's ok. I'm...it's ok." You waved her on to the next question.
"How did you become a Knight then?"
"I was born into it."
"What do you mean?"
"My father was one, and his father, and his father."
"But it's..." she hesitated. "You guys have like...you're anointed aren't you? Did they...baptize you with holy oil or—"
"My specific case is...unique, I guess you could say," you began and braced yourself to open this can of worms.
"The other knights...yes...they are anointed. They've done good deeds, so they're offered the chance to do more; God chose them to purge the darkness from the Earth. There's no rhyme or reason; you're chosen and you must go. It's almost impossible to say no. They never do. Knights are the best of the best, the purest of soul. It's fate.
"But...then there's me. There's my family. Who, if you ask anyone who is aware of the curse—"
"Curse?!" Mary Victoria exclaimed. "Ok that's not what I expected."
"Curses are real." You shrug. "Unfortunately. And they're often associated with evil right? An evil witch curses a young princess and all of that. But this...this is different. We are the evil. And the good put a curse on us. To punish us."
"And I was not expecting that either." She whistled low. "How are you evil?"
"Can I finish one thought before we move onto the next one Mare, jeez!"
"Sorry."
"Alright," you took a deep breath. "Let's rewind back to the Crusades."
"The Crusades?!"
"Mary Victoria!" You shouted and she shrank back in her seat.
"Sorry," she repeated. "I'll shut up now. But I reserve the right for follow up questions after the fact."
"Fine. So the Crusades. The quest to conquer the Holy Land, the quest for the Holy Grail, all of that. Well, it all stems back to someone wanting power over someone else. That's what happens, that's what always happens. At that time, there were no Knights of the Holy Order, there were very few who understood the way things worked; one belief rivaled another and it was man versus man instead of good versus evil. For a hundred years...more, even. Blah blah.
"And then along comes...something...a gift. Bestowed upon a select few. The power of Heaven itself. Think of...ok this is much later but think of Joan of Arc. She performed miracles, she healed people, she...she saw visions of angels and fought in battles to protect her people. Well...that...so my great, great, whatever...grandfather...was born with a power beyond understanding.
"He was called to fight in a Crusade...his power was too good of a weapon not to use. And he wasn't the only one, there were people like this on all sides...but he was the only one who refused to go. Thou shalt not kill, it is a law of God Himself. But who speaks for God? The King. The Pope. He was just one man...but he stood for what was good and they damned him.
"His blood would have to pay. Every death that he could have prevented now rested upon his shoulders, and the shoulders of his son, and his son, and none shall ever enter heaven until the debt was paid."
"Fuck," Mary Victoria coughed.
"Yeah," you laughed. "Fuck indeed. I think there's an old ass scroll in the trunk that says all of that in Latin if you want proof."
"I'm good."
"So for years, it becomes...I don't know...this legacy. Every father has a son, and they're mercenaries for whatever man is in Power, essentially. In France, in England, in Italy...and then you have, actually, Vlad the Impaler who makes a deal with the Devil to op—"
"NO! Shut up...Vlad...like Dracula?!" Mary Victoria grabbed your arm. "Don't tell me Dracula's real. That vampires are real."
"Vampires are real...Dracula is not," you explained with a laugh. "Whatever, ok Vlad the Impaler makes a deal with the Devil, or so it would seem, to open up a doorway into hell and release darkness. Well it’s all myth...the door was already open. It always has been. He just took advantage of it."
"Sure." Mary Victoria held her hands out in disbelief. "That's the most...normal thing. How does that lead to you?"
"Leads to the Knights," you corrected her. "Because Europe—I mean...the world, really—is now extra overrun with monsters and infernal creatures and bad things. And the Pope sends his chosen few, these people with the power of Heaven, to stop them.
"Now, we don't actually hate this pope," you explain. "He's...he did a good thing. He created the Holy Order. He gave these people with gifts a purpose, to do good. He called my ancestor to Rome, told him to bring his whole family—his wife and son—gave him a home and helped them set up roots. Then he says that this is the chance for penance. No more mercenary work; think bigger. Fight the darkness. Take the oath. Gratia. Charitas. Solamen. Grace, Charity, Peace.
"And what does my ancestor do? He let the wrath take over," you struck your hands against the steering wheel to emphasize your words. "And he killed the pope. Fucking asshole."
"Are you kidding me?" Mary Victoria screeched. "HE...WHAT?!"
"But his son, ok?" You held your hands up to her. "Stepped up to the plate. Killed his own father, of course, and volunteered the family to the Order. He made a vow, which...we know magic and whatever is real...that every member of the bloodline will devote their lives to the Order, shall fight every bit of evil they come across, until the penance is paid.
"And that...is the key here," you concluded. "There's no escaping it. He said the right words in the right order and somewhere in the Celestial Scheme of things, it means that darkness will follow wherever we go, so we can defeat it, and little by little we pay the penance so one day...we can all go to Heaven.
“There’s no escaping it. Even if you wanted a peaceful life, there’s nowhere to run where that vow and the curse won’t follow. Where fate won’t find you.
“And it killed my grandfather. And it killed my father. And one day...either I get to go to Heaven, or it will kill me too and this will all be over."
Mary Victoria scrunched her face.
"What do you mean?" she asked. "It'll be over."
"Well it's gonna end with me," you explained. "I'm...I'm not having kids. I don't know how no one realized it before. Every man and his need to have a son and fucked a thousand years of our bloodline right in the ass."
"But why not just...kill yourself and let it be over now?" she speculated. "If you don't mind going to Hell? The other Knights will carry on the oath. Why prolong the inevitable?"
You felt yourself choke up.
"Th-thanks Mare," you laughed to try to avoid the pain. "Glad to know you're trying to get rid of me."
You saw a sign for a familiar exit up ahead and sighed.
"Well...I would happily just end it...you know? I would...I would spare myself of this mindless activity every day, I would finally get myself out from under the thumb of every priest and bishop and king who think they can manipulate me and use my power for their benefit, if it wasn't for Eddie, my boyfriend."
"Oh shit..."
"Yeah...you know...when he died I begged...I begged everyone, anyone, to undo this curse. Man did it, man could undo it. And when no one would…I asked for them to give me just one clue that Eddie was in Heaven. Everyone told me that if he was a good person, he would be waiting but I needed some kind of sign. He wasn't...he was good but was he Heaven good?
"I even wrote the Pope a letter begging for Beatification—I know, that’s a big stretch—and of course he never saw it. Some secretary sent me a Postcard back," you scoffed. "But I can't...think of him in Hell, I can't imagine him suffering a fate worse than Death because...because I love him. Because Eddie's love was the purest love I have ever known in my life. Because when I close my eyes or I fall asleep I still feel him and I will do anything, I would push myself as far as I can until my body breaks and my soul splits in two just for the chance to get back to him.
"I didn't even think that way when my own Father died. When the Vatican sent me his things, back from some mission that killed him. I was shocked; I could imagine him in Hell...in Purgatory...in some void...but I couldn't mourn, Mare. I didn't feel it, because...because that man wasn't my father...that man was the one who turned me into a weapon who had a fighting chance at something better.
"But he didn't love me. He wouldn't do this to me if he loved me." You gripped the steering wheel with a grip made of steel. It was a wonder that it didn't bend under your touch as the wrath started to fill you. "Maybe when I was born? Maybe...but how irresponsible is that? Knowing you're cursed to eternal damnation and letting your father try to fix it for you and bringing a child into the world just to let it suffer too."
"Now hey that's not fair," Mary Victoria interjected. "Hey now, hey...listen even when my mother and I were on the outs I never thought that she--"
You started talking over her.
"That's why it ends with me. It's not fate. No where was it ever written that there had to be a child to carry it on. They all had an out, they were selfish. There's even...there's even a journal of my great grandfather on the boat from Italy to America...surrounded by a thousand other people looking for a better future and a chance at some kind of prosperity. Sacrificing everything they know for absolute uncertainty. A dream that was a lie. But he talked about watching his small son play with another child. And he wondered if this new life would offer them salvation, if the curse would be left behind, so his son could be happy and free. News-fucking-flash Nonetto, if you didn't have a son, you wouldn't have needed to worry."
The road started to get precarious with potholes and fissures but you navigated them expertly. A weird fog had also started to roll in, and you simply turned your headlights off.
As if this trip wasn't already off to a smooth start. You needed to calm down before you drove into a ditch or hit something.
"Listen," you sighed and looked at Mary Victoria with openness and honesty. "Actually...don't listen to me. Of all the Knights you got saddled with you really got the fucked up one. If this is what you really want, I can help you. We can work together and...and maybe little by little I can break this curse and we can work on your abilities."
"But you just said the abilities are something you're born with," she reminded you.
"Eh...everyone has a little bit of it inside of them." You gestured vaguely out of the car. "There are plenty of people who can...read thoughts or commune with the dead or move things with their minds who haven't...fully unlocked their potential. Being a knight only involves goodness...heroic deeds...and in turn that just opens the door to these abilities a little further. I don't know what it is we might find in Hawkins, but...I don't know, maybe if we actually are able to do some good, we'll be able to see if those abilities can manifest in you."
Mary Victoria smiled wickedly.
"Ok...you know what would be cool," she prefaced. "If...if you could make explosions happen...or...or...conjure the power of the sun."
"Yeah I've seen that last one happen before," you agreed. "It's like...pretty useful against vampires actually."
"Seriously?" her jaw dropped. "Have you seriously seen vampires before?"
"I told you they were real!"
"I didn't think you were the one who faced them!" She turned in her seat and squared her shoulder. "Ok so now I'm really hoping that we face something crazy. Maybe it'll be vampires."
"Maybe."
"Or like...a werewolf...or...ok is Frankenstein's monster a thing because I think that—”
All of a sudden a shadowy figure crossed the road into the street and the two of you screamed as you hit it head on. It rolled over your windshield—cracking the glass—and off your car.
You hit the brakes hard and your car skidded to a stop. The two of you caught your breaths.
"What the fuck was that?" Mary Victoria asked weakly.
"I don't know maybe...maybe a fox or a deer," you rationalized and turned to look out the rear windshield, but all you could see was fog, somehow even denser behind you than it was up ahead.
"A fox?!" she shrieked. "That wasn't a fox!"
"A wolf then," you offered instead and turned back around in your seat. Just up ahead was a decaying green sign that said "Welcome to Hawkins" with the words HELL spray painted over the town name in red.
You felt panic start to grip you and you glanced back out the rear window once more.
You knew, more than anyone, the kind of creatures that haunted Hawkins.
Mary Victoria reached for the door handle and you grabbed her. "What the hell are you doing?!"
"I'm gonna see if it's ok!"
"It's...listen if it's a wild animal, we can just get into town and ask if someone can come look with us." You motioned to the sign. "We're almost to town. It'll be ok."
"Hell," she scoffed. "Sure. Fine. Let's go."
Hell.
You repeated in your head.
More like home.
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“Bravest hearts[s] will carry on when sleep is death, and hope is gone.” -- Emily Rodda, Rowan of Rin
Next Chapter: Descendió a los Infiernos
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genericpuff · 9 months
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Hello you often use the word “retcon” and I’m not sure what it means. I looked it up and I’m still super confused. Could you please explain?
A "retcon" is an attempt to change a plot point that has already been established, typically as an overcorrection to a past plot point that a writer may be wanting to change. Retcons are usually seen as cheap ways to erase, deny, or "fix" the canon you've already established, instead of working with the canon you've set up for yourself. They can happen a lot in works that weren't planned well enough ahead of time, such as LO. It's essentially the writing version of gaslighting LMAO
Think of it this way. You're watching a movie where a character's family member has died, killed by a random gunman committing a robbery. The main character grieves the loss of this family member, but eventually learns to move forward with their life and live with the values and morals passed down to him by them, carrying on the legacy that that family member left behind. Two movies later, it's suddenly revealed that that family member wasn't killed intentionally by a robber, but accidentally by another gunman who was teamed up with the original robber (but never shown in the first movie). That new gunman is one of the 'bad guys' in this third movie.
What I've just described to you is the retconning of Uncle Ben's death in the original Raimi Spiderman trilogy LMAO originally Uncle Ben died in a random but tragic shooting that was framed as an intentional murder for getting in the way of a carjacker, but later on in Spiderman 3, they suddenly change what 'really' happened into Flint Marco (Sandman) shooting Ben accidentally after asking him for his car. It doesn't really add anything to the plot at all - even Peter lampshades this (calls it out) slightly when he asks why the police department is just now finding this out and telling them when it's been years - and it's clearly being used just as an easy plot device in Flint Marco's backstory and Peter's symbiote plotline. Rather than write a new backstory for a new villain, they changed what information they had already established to 'fit' an easy backstory for a new villain. Ironically, had producers not interfered with Raimi's original vision for the film, it would have worked a LOT better to just stick with what they had already been building up to for the past two films, making Harry the new Goblin and the central focus (but instead he plays third fiddle to the Sandman and the symbiote, both of whom were random villains with zero foundation in an otherwise well-structured trilogy.)
Anyways, rambling about Spiderman aside, that's essentially what a retcon is! It's typically in the form of introducing new information that erases or 're-explains' old information that didn't necessarily need to be corrected or otherwise should have just been stuck with for the sake of continuity. In LO's case, there's clearly so little planning on the story's trajectory that it basically retcons information every other week.
In this case, as I'm assuming you're referring to my recent essay post about the SA retcon, it feels like they're trying to subtly retcon the story away from the SA plot, by giving us a sob story from Apollo's POV and by claiming that Persephone found Apollo 'handsome' (she didn't) and that she felt 'special' around him (she did not). They're revisiting a past scene with descriptions that are completely false and inconsistent with the original scene, hence, a retcon.
Hope that answers your question! :)
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