Lana Lang

I can barely tell the difference between what is real and what I believe. For example, this letter in my hand-- I can feel it between my fingers. The paper is smooth, except in the creases. I can unfold it, and fold it again. As certain as I am sitting here now, this letter exists.
And yet.
In my heart, I know my hand is empty.
- History of Love

( Spoilers for Supernatural Season 4, also known as the most scarring season of television ever. Am I dead yet? )

Anna Morasca absit_omens
Sam Winchester likely_evil
Dean Winchester hasperkynipples
Clark Kent solarsentinel
Chloe Sullivan reporter_chloe
Jimmy Olsen metroshutterbug

A kissing booth. Not exactly her idea of a fundraiser, but it was something the kids were wanted to do, so she went with it. All were willing, all were legal (or close enough), and they seemed like they were having a lot of fun...

Part of her still felt so wrong about it, though. It's not prostitution, no, but she still felt like a pimp.

"Lana!"

She turned to see her assistant, smiling from ear to ear. "Having fun, Margret?"

"Margie," she said, only slightly annoyed. "Why can't you just call me Margie like everyone else?"

"Sorry. Habit. And you didn't answer my question."

"I waaas...and now, it's your turn." The cheeky brunette took hold of her employer's arm and tried to pull her toward the booth she had formally occupied.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Lana wasn't letting herself be lead. "I agreed to let you put this on, but I never said I'd participate!"

"Aw, come on, Lana!" Margie pleaded. "It would be good! Everyone wants to kiss the manager of ISIS! Plus, you need to set an example for all of us."

"A better example would have been to scrap this idea in the first place."

Margie gave her a look, one she couldn't have gotten away with a few months later.

Lana was starting to fold under the pressure. "Can't you just illusion yourself into me?"

"You're right here!"

"I could hide."

"Lana...come on." Her face was more serious now. "Do it for me, and all the people like me that we still have to help."

Lana sighed, knowing there was no way to argue with that. No way she could think of, anyway.

She made her way to the booth, and greeted yet another of her clients turned employee.

"David."

He patted her shoulder and gave her a soft grin. "Lighten up, boss. It's for a good cause."

She just sighed again. "Hypocrisy, thy name is Lana."

[ooc: Kisses are $5, as many as you want, as long as you can pay. Though if you're a jerk, expect Lana to punch you in the face. Money raised so far: $25]

SAMMY!

I'm sure none of you are going to believe it until I get pictures (or show you in person), but I'm saying it anyway.

I got a tattoo today.

Shocking, I know. It's on the back of my right shoulder. Matches my boyfriend's, but his is on his chest. You know me. I wasn't about to get one in the same place.

"Anima Remitto!"

With a spatter of blood and a phrase, the dark enchantress sealed herself with a mark that ensured her return and laughed in amusement as her persecutors dragged her toward the pyre. They believed they had claimed a great victory in the eyes of their Lord, but oh how very foolish they were.

"Madelyn Hibbins. Brianna Withridge. Countess Marguerite Isobel Thoreaux. You have been found guilty of committing the darkest art -- witchcraft. For this affront against God, I hereby condemn you to burn in the fires of Hell in which you so eagerly seek communion."

Isobel stood tall and proud as she and her friends were sentenced, giggling quietly to herself, even as she felt the heat rising. How very foolish indeed.

"You think this ends with a lick of flame? I sleep but a while. And when the time is appointed, my heir will awaken me. And I will have vengeance!"

Her laughter rose like the smoke that surrounded her, a cackle that brought a murmur through the crowd and parents to pull their children closer. She would return to claim the Stones of Power and take her place as ruler of this world, and then they would pay. All of them would pay.


Lana sat straight up in her bed, eyes wide open and heart pounding. After only a second to catch her breath, she was practically sprinting to the full length mirror on the other side of the room and lifting her shirt to examine her back.

Nothing.

"Oh thank God!"

Those words had never been so sincere.

She crumbled to her knees and stayed there for a few minutes. She knew why she was dreaming about Isobel after all these years. Now that she knew there was more out there, more of the supernatural than she'd seen, of course it would bring everything back to the surface. That was the nature of dreams.

She touched a hand to her shoulder. Maybe she should get that tattoo, the one Sam had. At least then she could remove possession from her list of worries.