#speaking of Father Paul calling Riley out

[holywoodelevator]

One thing I realised while watching midnight mass was when Father Paul is doing confessional and then for the rest of the episode Father Paul is acting so sassy like calling out Riley for his bullshit, absolutely manspreading like no other in the AA meeting when just the last episode he was sitting so politely like father just because u committed one sin (and many more to come) DOESNT MEAN U SUDDENLY HAVE TO BECOME GHE BRATTIEST BITCH ALIVE!!!

[wannabespacesmuggler]

LOVE YOU, MISS YOU, MEAN IT ➵ S. WILSON

Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: It’s been five years since you heard from Sam Wilson — the longest you’ve gone without speaking since you met him at sixteen years old. You've tried to move on, but six words still weigh heavy on your heart. You're certain you'll never hear those words again until you get a phone call from upstate New York.

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, high school sweethearts, mentions of Riley (CA:TWS), mentions of loss and grief, spoilers for Avengers: Infinity War and Avengers: Endgame, mentions of the Blip and its repercussions, no use of y/n, use of pet names (ie. "honey" and "baby")

Word Count: 3.5k

Song Inspo: "Love You, Miss You, Mean It" by Luke Bryan

Author’s Note: So, apparently all of us are desperate for more Sam Wilson fics. I promise I don't also base my fics on songs, but I was listening to this one recently and couldn't get this idea out of my head (maybe Sam Wilson fics based on country songs is just my niche now lol). Like always, I hope you guys enjoy this one and let me know what you all think. Also, my inbox is open to any ideas for Sam Wilson fics. I'm not promising to write them all, but I'm desperate for my Sam content and if it has to be done by me then so be it.

“What about Craig from book club?”

You furrow your brow at Sarah as you wipe down the counters during a lull in the afternoon lunch rush. You’ve worked at Wilson Family Seafood since your family moved to Delacroix during your sophomore year of high school. Your father suddenly lost his job and, by pure happenstance, reconnected with his old childhood friend, Paul Wilson. Within a week, your family packed up your entire lives and moved across the country to help at the Wilson’s family-owned restaurant. It was a drastic change, but the transition was helped by Sarah Wilson, who quickly became your closest friend. The two of you spent your days in classes together at the local high school, your afternoons working at the restaurant, and your evenings working on homework by the docks. You were sure that your life couldn’t get any better than this.

But then you met her older brother, Sam. 

You’d seen him in passing a few times; however, basketball season kept him busy for the first few months you spent in Delacroix. Once his team was knocked out of the playoffs, Sam also spent his afternoons at the restaurant. To Sarah’s dismay, Sam took an immediate liking to you. At first, you brushed off Sam’s attention as playful, meaningless flirting. But, to your surprise, Sam asked you to the junior prom while the three of you sat at the docks after your shifts. Sarah pretended to be disgusted by the idea of her older brother and best friend dating, but, in reality, she couldn’t be happier — after all, she’d never seen her brother so smitten. 

“I don’t need a date, Sarah.”

“You deserve to feel loved.”

A sigh escapes you as her voice softens. When Sam enlisted in the military after high school, you were confident that was the end of the line for the two of you. However, Sam went above and beyond to make things work. You received letters from him twice a month while he was deployed, and every single one ended the same: love you, miss you, mean it. He visited home whenever he could, and the two of you were happy. But then his wingman got blown out of the sky during a night operation, and Sam slowly withdrew from everyone in his life: his friends, his family, and you. His letters started showing up only once a month, then every two, until eventually they stopped altogether.

It all came to a head when you heard from Darlene that Sam got honorably discharged from service, and instead of coming back home, he chose to stay in D.C. after accepting a job with the Department of Veteran Affairs. You remember the phone call that followed when Sam told you he just couldn’t face living in Delacroix right now without his father — that he couldn’t handle adding that grief to his plate right now. He didn’t try to convince you to join him. Sam knew that you couldn’t leave his mother and sister like that, and although he knew he was making a selfish choice, he didn’t want to drag you and his family along with him during his recovery process. You’d drop everything to help him, but that’s not what you deserve. You’ve already spent over a decade assisting the Wilson family — starting full-time at the restaurant after high school, providing funds from your savings account for numerous doctor appointments and procedures when his father got sick, and opening up your home to Sarah and her new husband after they lost theirs. Sam couldn’t ask you to put your life on hold, yet again, just for him. And even though he knew he was losing you, he still ended the call with the words he only ever said to you: love you, miss you, mean it. You remember wanting to be angry with him, but, in reality, all you felt was a deep, profound sadness — because you could tell just by the sound of his voice that this wasn’t the same Sam who left for the Air Force all those years ago. This isn’t the Sam you fell in love with. So, even though it was the hard thing to do, you let him go. 

You didn’t see Sam again until Darlene passed away two years later. After the funeral, Sam asked if you wanted to grab a drink. And even though your brain was screaming at you to stay away from the man who broke your heart — you couldn’t say no. He was surprised to hear you weren’t seeing anyone, and you were just as surprised that he wasn’t dating. Conversation flowed easily between the two of you, and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you realized that, although the Sam sitting in front of you was a little bit older and a little bit wiser, he still had the same boyish charm that made you fall in love with him all those years ago. And your heart almost stopped in your chest when he said the six words you haven’t been able to stop thinking about: love you, miss you, mean it. 

“I do feel loved.”

“It’s not enough to just feel it in your dreams.”

The words made you stop in your tracks. It’s been five years since you heard from Sam Wilson — the longest you’ve gone without speaking since you met him at sixteen years old. After the two of you reconnected after Darlene’s funeral, you and Sam kept in touch with the hope that one day, this tender, unspoken thing between the two would turn into something more permanent; however, for now, you both had responsibilities — Sam was the head of PTSD counseling at the Department of Veteran Affairs, and you were now a co-owner of Wilson Family Seafood. But then Sam met Steve Rogers, and his whole world seemed to turn upside down. You remember watching the news, clutching Sarah’s hand as the anchor explained that there was now a global manhunt for three men after a bombing in Vienna: James Buchanan Barnes, Steve Rogers, and Sam Wilson. And suddenly, your little dream life together seemed to slip right between your fingers — after all, your high school sweetheart was now a wanted fugitive. Sam couldn’t risk contacting you while on the run with Steve and Natasha. And even though all he wanted was to call you and explain his side of the story — explain that he only did what he knew was right — he didn't. It wasn’t until they ended up in Wakanda with Thanos on their heels that he finally reached out. He was pretty sure that this was it for him — he wasn’t a super soldier, he wasn’t magical or enhanced, he was just a man with metal wings. So, Sam sent you a message before he was thrown into another war because even if it was the last time you heard from him, he needed you to know that six words were still weighing on his heart: love you, miss you, mean it.

“Sarah…”

You trail off because you’re unsure how to respond — because you know she’s right. Sam sent that message five years ago. You didn’t believe he was gone until Steve Rogers showed up on your doorstep with a box of Sam’s belongings. There weren’t many items, but Steve thought it was best that you received them — after all, missing you was all he talked about during their time on the run together. After Steve left, you opened the box and pulled out Sam’s old pararescue sweatshirt, a few unsent letters, his father’s watch, and a handful of photos: one you had taken of Sarah, AJ, and Cass on an old fishing boat, an old picture of Riley and Sam in full tactical gear while on deployment, another of Sam standing between Steve and Natasha at some sort of party, and lastly one of you and him sitting side-by-side on shiny bleachers together after his senior year championship game. With misty eyes, you put the photos on your refrigerator and pulled on his sweatshirt — desperate to feel close to your lost love in any way possible.

“He’s gone, honey.”

You know her words come from a place of love — from a place of understanding. Sarah understands the grief you're experiencing better than anyone else. She not only lost her brother in the Blip but also her husband a year before due to a sudden car accident. Everyone else in your life told you to move on, but Sarah knows that six words keep you securely planted in the past. She watched as you threw yourself into your responsibilities to cope: draining your savings account to keep the restaurant afloat while moving in with her to help raise AJ and Cass. But she also noticed how eager you were to slip away when things were quiet at the end of the day. She knew it was so you could see Sam again. You relive your favorite moments in your dreams: kissing him for the first time while parked in your driveway, Sam surprising you at work during his deployments, dancing all night together at Sarah’s wedding. It’s not the same — it’ll never be the same — but it’s the closest you’ll get to having him back. 

“I’m not ready to move on yet.”

You’re not sure if you’ll ever be ready to move on. You’ve loved Sam Wilson since you were sixteen years old. Through life’s highs and lows, through steadiness and imbalance — it was always Sam. It will always be Sam. Sarah gives you a gentle, knowing smile. She knows. Of course, she knows. She’s confident that if Sam were in your place, he’d be just as distraught because the hardest years of Sam's life were the ones after he pushed you away after Riley passed. Even though he was sure everyone in Delacroix was better off without him, Sam would call Sarah once a month to check in with everyone. She could hear the pain in her brother’s voice every time he asked about you — no matter how much time passed, you were an open wound that never seemed to heal. But even though Sam was hurting, all he wanted was for you to be happy — even if it was without him. 

“And that’s okay. Just know that Sam would want you to be happy.”

You suck in a sharp breath. Your chest suddenly feels like it’s about to cave in under the weight of your grief. Luckily, you’re saved from the conversation by the sound of the door opening. The lull in the afternoon lunch rush ended, and so did your discussion. Still, you spent the rest of your shift thinking about it. Sarah offers to close up for the night, and you’re grateful. You desperately need to go lay down — you feel absolutely drained after your shift, and Sarah’s words are still rattling around in your brain. The air is thick and sticky as you walk the empty streets of Delacroix. Even though it's halfway through October, the pervasive southern humidity has yet to disperse. A wave of relief washes over you as you enter the small, air-conditioned home you now share with the remaining members of the Wilson family. You kick off your shoes at the door, toss your keys on the kitchen counter, and collapse onto the couch in your living room. AJ and Cass are spending the night at a friend’s house, so your home is uncharacteristically quiet — that is, until your phone starts ringing. You pick it up off the coffee table with a deep sigh, and your brow furrows as you recognize the area code: Upstate New York. Usually, you’d send it straight to voicemail, but your finger hesitates on the decline button. Against your better judgment, you accept the call.

Your heart stops as you listen to a nurse explain the situation on the other end. Sam Wilson was just admitted to their hospital after taking one hell of a beating with his fellow Avengers, and you were contacted since you’re still listed as his emergency contact. You thank the nurse for the information before hanging up. Your hands tremble as you place your phone back on the coffee table. For a few moments, all you can do is focus on breathing in and out. A part of you thinks this is a dream — that any moment now, you’ll wake up alone in your living room with an aching in your chest. But that moment doesn’t come. You simply sit on your couch, staring at your phone while time slowly passes until Sarah eventually comes home. She’s concerned when you don’t answer her question as she opens the door, and panic rushes through her veins once she spots you sitting in the living room — your expression holds an ocean of emotions fighting for dominance as you stare at the coffee table.

“What’s wrong?”

“I got a call. Sam’s at a hospital in Upstate New York.”

“What?”

Sarah collapses next to you on the couch. You both sit in silence for several moments. Sarah’s at a loss for words, and you’re still not sure this is real. But what if it is? What if Sam is really lying in a hospital bed in Upstate New York right now? You have to chance it, right? Sam would. 

“I need to go.”

Sarah finally looks at you. Tears are streaming down her face, but her expression is one of unbridled joy. After everything she’s lost — after praying every single night to a God she stopped believing in long ago — she finally received a miracle. She wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug.

“I know.”

You’re out the door in under five minutes after haphazardly throwing clothing into an old backpack along with your essentials. You give Sarah one last hug before tossing the bag into the passenger seat of your car. The ride is torturously long. It takes you a full day of driving to make it to the address the nurse provided, but you refuse to stop. You can rest when you get there — once you see Sam with your own eyes. Your hands shake as you enter the hospital and approach the front desk. You feel idiotic giving Sam’s name when the lady behind the counter asks who you’re here to visit, but she simply smiles at you before writing down a room number. Exhaustion has settled deep into your bones, but you push yourself forward, putting one foot in front of the other until you find yourself outside room 335. You knock your fist against the door, and your heart lurches as you hear a response from the other side. After taking a deep breath, you open the door, and you get the wind knocked out of your lungs — as if you’ve been sucker-punched in the chest.

Lying in a hospital bed, looking a little worse for wear, was Sam Wilson. There is a long line of stitches on the left side of his face, a deep purple bruise is forming under his right eye, and his toned abdomen is wrapped in bandages and gauze, but it’s undeniably him. 

“Sam?”

His face immediately softens, and if he could, he’d cross the room in a heartbeat just to wrap you up in his arms. Tears well up in his eyes as he takes in your appearance. You know you look older, but he looks exactly the same beneath the injuries. Still, he looks at you as if no time has passed — as if you are still the bright-eyed, naive sophomore falling in love with the dangerously charismatic basketball captain. 

“Hey, baby.”

His voice sounds like home. And in this moment, even though your mind is foggy and your knees are on the verge of buckling, you thank whatever higher power sent him back to you. Sam’s brow furrows as he clocks the noticeable fatigue in your movements.

“Come here.”

He gestures to a chair next to his bedside. You immediately do as he says, and your muscles breathe a sigh of relief as you sit down. Sam painfully repositions himself closer to you and immediately reaches out. You melt into his touch as he brushes his knuckles against your cheek. 

“When was the last time you slept?”

A laugh escapes you due to the absurdity of his question. He’s currently lying in a hospital bed after five years of being presumed dead, looking frailer than you’ve ever seen him, and yet, he’s only worried about you. 

“You’re ridiculous, Sam.” 

A smile spreads across Sam’s face as you catch his hand and intertwine your fingers. You hold onto him with a tight grip — afraid that if you let up, he’ll slip right between your fingers again. His smile fades at the realization, and Sam’s gaze is brimming with concern.

“How long was I gone?”

“Five years.”

You don’t look at him as you answer, but you can feel his body shudder in response. He takes a shaky breath, attempting to process that information as you rub your thumb across his swollen knuckles. You’re the only thing grounding him in reality at this moment. 

“Is everyone okay? Sarah, AJ, Cass?”

You nod, finally meeting his frantic gaze. 

“Everyone’s fine. They’re back in Delacroix looking after the restaurant. I took care of them.”

“Who took care of you?”

Sam’s face falls as you press your cheek to the back of his hand, avoiding eye contact. That’s enough to answer his question. You’ve been strong your whole lie. Stronger than you ever gave yourself credit for — stronger than him. While he ran off to war, you stayed and fought to keep everything together at home. He realized long ago that he left you with the toughest battle, and he promised himself while on the run that he’d help relieve your burden once he cleared his name — he promised himself that he’d finally come home to you. But then Thanos snapped his goddamn fingers, and everything after that was a blur. Apparently, he has to add going MIA for five years to his long list of things to make up for. And there’s no time like the present to start making amends. 

“I wanted to call you every day after Hydra — after Vienna. I hope you know that I never stopped thinking about you. I tried to get a message to you before everything…”

Sam trails off, and his eyes glaze over as a faraway look sweeps over his expression. Your hand tightens around his as you realize you have no idea what he’s done— what he’s witnessed — since you last spoke to him. You’ve both been through hell, but somehow — some way — you made your way back to each other. That has to mean something.

“I got the message.”

Sam’s face twists into confusion as you let go of his hand and pull four photographs out of your backpack. You offer them to him, and Sam grabs them with trembling fingers. A small, sad smile spreads across his face as he recognizes them from his locker at the Avengers compound. 

“How did you get these?”

“Steve.”

Sam should have known that Steve would seek you out after the dust settled — after they counted their losses. He was a soldier, after all; he knew the protocol. He nods as he admires the old photo of you and him: what he would give to go back, to have that time with you again.

“Listen, five years is a long time. I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through or what you’ve done to get by.”

There’s a heaviness in Sam’s tone, and as he avoids eye contact with you, you realize he’s trying to ask if you’ve moved on. He wouldn’t fault you for creating a life without him — but little does he know, you’ve been waiting for him against all odds in Delacroix the whole time.

“Sam…”

Hope reignites in Sam’s chest as you wrap your hand around his again and drag your chair closer to him. It’s the first time he’s felt that old, forgotten emotion since he kissed you beneath the fairy lights of that bar by the docks. And just like that night, six words burn in his chest as he looks at you with pure adoration.

“I love you, miss you, mean it, baby.”

A bright smile spreads across your face as the words grace your ears. You never thought you’d hear them again. 

“Still?”

His smile rivals your own — and the sight jumpstarts the process of stitching your shattered heart back together. His gaze is incredulous as he cocks his head at your words — as if it was the most ridiculous question he’s ever heard. 

Still? 

Sam could never dream of loving someone else. His heart has been yours since he was seventeen years old.

“Always.”

And then you close the gap between you. As you press your lips against his, the years of loss and longing melt away. And even though every muscle in his body aches, Sam holds you like his life depends on it. He has a lot to apologize for — a lot of time to make up — but, for right now, this tender moment with you is enough. Because it’s just you and him. It always has been, and it always will be.

[dragneto]

For the wrapped ask: 16, 17, 18, 28, 29, 30 (sorry I'm greedy) <3

all excellent questions, and thank you very much for being curious enough to ask <3

16: What’s your most common “additional tags” tag?

Ooh, interesting. in no particular order, I think Developing Relationship was used pretty often, along with Introspection, Set in a Previous Simulation (for that one fandom specifically, of course), and, uh… Masturbation. :D

17: Your favourite character to write this year?

Hanno Tauber, always. but my single foray into Midnight Mass fic made Father Paul a very close second <3

18: The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

Riley Flynn from my fic …in vitam aeternam, mostly because of the situation he was in, and because his experiences are so incredibly specific that I found them difficult to cover. that’s not to say it wasn’t fun, though, the dialogue cadence was easy and enjoyable! and I got to read a lot of Catholic stuff to prepare for it.

28: Favourite work you wrote this year?

This feels like a… difficult one to answer. :( I’m going to say… a tie between The Old Witch and the Good Man (The Quarry, Travis & Laura) and cave-in (Dark, Jonas/Noah). I love them for wildly different reasons—for the former, it’s because of the fun I had writing a time loop fic with unconventional formatting, and for the latter, it’s creating the emotional catharsis that I wanted these two to have at that time in their lives.

29: Favourite line/passage you wrote this year?

Hmm. you know, I keep coming back to this, from staring and a-shakin’ like a leaf (1899, Ramiro/Ángel):

Ángel choked a noise that might have been ‘quiero’ or ‘Ramiro’, and it didn’t matter which he said, or whether he had truly said anything intelligible in any language; he could speak and he could walk and he was not lying dead somewhere in a shadowed corner of Prometheus with pieces of his hand splattered across his own face, broken bits of flesh and bone glued to his skin by a hot spray of blood from a sidearm that shouldn’t have been on Prometheus in the first place, its wielder snarling righteous bloody fury and prepared to mete out divine justice at any cost, too focused on a dangling slab of meat to see the snarling wolf behind it; the same look Ramiro had seen on Tove’s face, judging him for passing his own judgement, for making an impossible call that was really not all that impossible to make when the only other option was to watch the rest of Ángel splinter and spray across the wall.

there was just something really fun about delivering a very important piece of backstory in one incredibly long run-on sentence. :)

30: Biggest surprise while writing this year?

I don’t know if I can say that anything truly caught me by surprise, but I did learn lots of neat HTML tricks that I was able to use to spice up some fics with unconventional formatting. so I’d say that was very fun. :’)

[themisinformer]

Kid Who Went Viral for Song He Made With Logan Paul in 2017 Has Been Arrested for His Involvement in Apparent Gang Related Shooting

FORT MYERS, FLORIDA - Sending shockwaves across the internet, 17 year old Noah Tesh, known online as “Zircon,” who originally went viral in 2017 for a song that he made with social media influencer Logan Paul, has been arrested due to his alleged involvement in a gang related shooting.

Tesh would originally make waves on the internet under his alias “Zircon,” making a song called “Logan You Are My Hero,” a tribute to his favorite YouTuber Logan Paul. Paul would end up seeing the video, and would fly Tesh out to Los Angeles to be featured in one of his vlogs and a music video aptly titled “HERO,” which would go insanely viral.

Tesh would fly back to his hometown of Fort Myers feeling like a celebrity in his own right, but according to people knew him, it all went downhill for him pretty quickly. “The high that he got from meeting Logan Paul would only last so long,” said 17 year old Riley James, a close friend of Tesh. “He was the talk of the town one moment, to a complete social outcast the next, and I feel like that had a deep impact on him.”

Not only that, but Logan Paul would allegedly ghost Tesh not long after he returned to Fort Myers, making Tesh feel like Paul used him. Tesh would also begin to allegedly be bullied by classmates over his video with Paul due to its quirky nature, leading Tesh to ultimately regret what was once a dream come true for him.

Tesh would become depressed due to these circumstances, and started consuming drugs and alcohol to cope. This is also around the same time he joined the local “Lake Boyz” street gang, feeling as if the streets were the only people who had his back.

Tesh would quickly rise through the ranks in the Lake Boyz and would earn the respect of the OG’s, who gave him the nickname “Babyface,” in reference to his youthful looking face. High ranking Lake Boyz member Josiah “J-Gal” Gallows would be quoted as saying “Don’t let his baby face fool you, that nigga will bust you in half.”

Tesh would eventually fully commit himself to the Lake Boyz lifestyle by getting the initials “LB” tattooed on his chest. This leads us to last month, when gunshots were fired late at night in a rival neighborhood of the Lake Boyz by an unknown assailant in a 2007 Ford Crown Victoria. Two people were declared dead as a result of the shooting.

Immediately, authorities suspected that the shooting was committed by the Lake Boyz, due to it being in a rival neighborhood. After more investigating, they discovered that the car belonged to Tesh’s father, leading to his eventual arrest.

When asked why he committed the crime, Tesh would refuse to speak, claiming, “I ain’t no snitch, cuh.” Although authorities believe that Tesh may have been persuaded into committing the crime due to his young age, meaning he would’ve most likely been punished the least as compared to other members.

Tesh is currently in Lee County Jail awaiting his trial, which is scheduled to take place in two months. Tesh has yet to post bail. We’ll keep you updated as this case progresses.

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

Whisky Business

When your childhood friends come visit you, you drink slightly more than would be wise. Father Paul to the rescue!

Set sometime before the Easter vigil This is just a little idea I got few days ago and I'm pretty happy how it turned out. Your friends' names have been chosen at random. Also, the car story is true, but don't try it yourself xD

Whisky Business - 4K

tw: alcohol usage, attempts at humour

You didn’t really drink, other than a glass of wine to go with your dinner, or a hot cider on a chilly day, but when two of your childhood friends, Zoe and Libby, called you that they’re coming to visit you on Crockett Island, you knew that it wouldn’t stop at one glass of wine. Zoe, Lib and you went way back, you lived a few streets away from each other, attended the same schools and pretty much saw each other every single day until it was time for you to leave for your respective unis. Even then you stayed in contact and met up every now and again, mostly during the holidays.

And, as young women do when they finally meet for a ladies’ night, you partied. You’d usually start in a club, dance a little, flirt with a few boys (and sometimes girls), then move your soiree somewhere else, usually some hotel room, or one of your families’ houses, if the family went away for the holidays. Sometimes a few people would tag along, but you’d send them on their way once you felt it was time to wrap up for the night. As you got older (and only a little more responsible), you’d skip the club entirely, opting to stay in the comfort of one of your flats instead, inviting some more friends to talk, drink, play some games.

Well, this time the girls did want to drag you off onto the mainland and into a club, but seeing as you most definitely didn’t want to have to run to catch the morning ferry back to Crockett Island while fighting hangover, nor did you want to spend your entire day in some hotel room waiting for the Belle, you managed to convince your friends to stay in with you for the night.

Zoe and Libby arrived on the Breeze at 8 o’clock in the morning and let you show them around Crockett. “I still don’t understand why you moved here, of all places,” said Libby absent-mindedly before hurrying to add: “It’s not bad! Little fishing town, everyone knows everyone, it’s got its charm. But, you know, there are little fishing towns which are even more… charming.” You smiled wryly: “Yeah, well, I like this one."

"I think I can see why," replied Zoe cheekily, coyly nudging her head in the direction of the general store, in front of which now stood a certain police officer. You shook your head and grinned, opting to stay silent. What you said was true, you really became really fond of the island and its inhabitants, a few of them (including sheriff Hassan) in particular.

However, there indeed was a man you had your eyes on, and you’d rather let your friends think it was the brawny cop, and not the local holy man. Speaking of which, you were actually quite glad you hadn’t met the Father as you gave your friends a tour, as a single interaction between the two of you would be enough for Libby to know exactly how you felt about the man. She always had a sixth sense for these things…

You made chicken and spinach tagliatelle with cream sauce for dinner and you shared it sitting at your little dining table. Erin joined you after school (and a stroll with Riley) and to your happiness, she and your friends got on like a house on fire. The first drinks came after your meal, a very fruity sparkling wine was poured into three glasses and orange juice was put into the fourth. It was a pleasant evening, full of laughter and embarrassing stories from your youths, paired with a game of charades.

“I still can’t believe you actually got 14 people into a single car,” laughed Erin. “Nearly 15!” you replied jovially, “one of the girls was pregnant at the time!” More laughter followed. “Right, I won’t be doing any of that, you can be sure. How did the car even manage to start when there were like 10 more people there than it was made for?” “Don’t underestimate a Lada, they’re like a Nokia of cars,” said Zoe then, her voice already taking on a tipsy tone, “though, I must admit, as I was lying on the roof with (F/N), I was pretty sure the engine would just jump out of the hood and run away from us.”

Erin said her goodbyes somewhere around 9 o'clock, having managed to convince the girls her baby made her tired easily. You knew very well that Erin was in fact going home to be able to sit on her porch with Riley and talk late into the night. You haven't told your friends that, though, just as Erin didn’t tell them that the man you spent most time with on the island was not in fact the local law enforcer.

 “You’ve got to try this,” said Libby, an oval brown bottle in her hand, “it’s made out of maple syrup and canadian whisky, and it’s really, really delicious.” So you did try, and it indeed was very good. So good in fact, that the bottle was completely empty within an hour (along with the bottle of wine, and some bottles of other liquors were also emptier than before), and you were beginning to feel completely drunk. And you weren’t the only one. The girls went from giggling about absolutely everything, to declarations of love towards you and each other, to talking about men. Zoe was going on and on about this intern working in her local clinic, who ‘totally looked like Captain America’ and had ‘pecs the size of her head’. Before your turn to talk about that special someone came however, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom.

Your legs were rather shaky and unstable and your mind felt like you were on a boat and you cursed under your breath. It had been easier when you were sitting down, but now the alcohol rushed directly into your head and made you dizzy. you sat down on your closed toilet heavily and closed your eyes, taking deep breaths. Five minutes later, when you were sure you’re not going to be sick the moment you stood up, you walked to the sink. You splashed cold water on your face and drank some directly from the tap. Feeling still very drunk but far more steadier, you headed for your living room again.

It was rather strange though, as you didn’t hear anything once you stood in the hallway. You heard your friends chatting and giggling among themselves before you entered the bathroom, their slurred voices echoing off the walls, but now it seemed your house was dead silent. When you finally reached the living room, you saw both your friends lying on your couch, the still and quiet now disturbed by even breathing and the occasional light snore from Zoe.

You snorted quietly and swayed on your feet. Party’s over it seemed. You threw a blanket over your friends and made to go to your room and sleep it off, when a knock came from your front door. You thought it was perhaps Erin having forgotten something, but when you opened the door and leaned heavily against the frame, your unfocused eyes widened slightly at the sight of a tall black haired man in dark clothes, his soft features turned into a lovely smile.

“Hey,” you slurred quietly and gave him a drunken smile, your head tilting to the side and eyes squinting a little. “Hello,” he said back, his voice making you melt inside, “I see you’re having fun.” Did he just purr? Was this man seriously just purring at you? ‘This is bad’, you realised, drunk-you had the wheel, your inhibitions were severely lowered and the object of your affection stood before you, purring . “I took a walk because I couldn’t sleep, and thought I’d stop by for a chat when I saw you still have lights on too. But if this isn’t a good time…” “No, no no, it is a good time,” you mumbled quickly, pulling at his hand. You could get into some serious trouble - your drunk self didn’t give a damn.

“My friends came to visit me and they’re sleeping on the couch, come into my room,” oh, some serious trouble. Paul didn’t say anything, letting you lead him slowly. You entered the dark bedroom with the priest in tow and shut the door. For several seconds, you were enveloped in absolute darkness, and you suddenly realised how close you stood to the man. So close in fact, that you felt the heat coming off his body, felt his breath tickle your cheeks as your eyes searched for his own in the darkness. Then there was a click, and the moment was gone. You stepped away from Father Paul and climbed on top of the bed, moving to sit cross legged upon the made covers.

Paul smiled softly and kneeled in front of the bed, hands coming up to rest on your knees gently. “Sooo,” you said in a sing-song voice, “did you have something specific to talk about?” The priest gave you another smile and his thumbs stroked over your knees, the lycra of your leggins soft against his fingers. “A few things, yeah, but I won’t trouble you with them now… You should get some sleep.” You gave the priest a childish pout, making him chuckle.

"I'll bring you a glass of water. And some aspirin. Can you get ready for bed by yourself, or…?" A deep red blush appeared on his cheeks. "I'm not that drunk, you know," you grumbled, "but wait!" Paul stopped and looked at you. "Um, don't wake my friends. They get like-" you stumbled over your words, "Old man and the sea-ish." The priest stared at you as if you just spoke Mandarin to him: "Um, what exactly is that supposed to mean?" You fell upon the bed, lying down on your side and looked at him sleepily through your eyelashes. "You know, Old man and the sea, by Ernest Hemingway? Guy hunts down this huge fish, but before he can haul it back home, sharks come and nibble the entire thing away. So, you know, like that.”

You probably weren’t making any sense, as Paul gave you a long unreadable look. But then again, perhaps you’d be able to read it were you sober. “Oh wow,” he whispered at last, smiling mischievously, “you’re going to be so sick in the morning.” And with that he left your room in his quest to get you an aspirin and a glass of water… a pitcher, actually. Turns out, you in fact were rather too drunk to actually change into your sleeping clothes. You were luckily wearing very comfortable home clothes though, so you just peeled off your leggings and socks, and fumbled with your bra under your long baggy shirt until you were able to unclasp it and pull it off.

You were luckily sitting with your back to the door as you did so, because Paul came back the exact moment you pulled the garment from under your t-shirt and threw it somewhere in the direction of the laundry basket. Still, your dear friend managed to get an eyeful of your bare lower back, as well as your bottom, clad in a pair of undies with a kitty cat print. You weren’t aware of it, but Paul had to close his eyes and count to five in his head, willing his body to calm down and his mind to get itself out of the gutter. When his eyes opened again, you were (thankfully) covered once more by the large t-shirt.

The priest coughed and entered the room fully, getting your attention. His stomach flipped when you gave him another drunken smile, one that made him feel like he was the centre of your universe. Paul carefully put your water and pills on the bedside table and flipped the light switch on the wall once more, turning on a small lamp on your dresser instead. He helped tuck you in then, doing his best not to stare at your bare thighs, or the way your shirt hiked up a little every now and then because of your attempts to get under the covers. You however paid no attention to where he was looking, as you were rather busy staring at the man’s lips. Finally, he pulled the blanket over you, the edge of it nearly at your chin.

Suddenly, your hands travel to his cheeks on their own accord, grabbing and gently pulling him down. The poor man is too shocked to resist and lets himself get closer and closer, until…

Your lips brush his cheek tenderly, one hand going into his hair, the other moving to rest on the hot skin of his throat. “Thank you, Paul,” you whisper into his ear and he fights a tremor, “thank you for taking care of me.” Paul smiles and allows his arms to curl around your form, at least for a little while. However, he parts from you quickly, being quite aware that the longer he holds you, the more he won't want to let go.

He sits down on a chair in your room, facing you and talking softly as you begin to fall asleep. Every once in a while, he has to keep himself from chuckling, because you get this intense look in your eyes and hit him with some unexpected compliment.

“Wow, huge...” you breathe. “Yes, the temples in Israel really are that big,” he says, thinking you were reacting to his storytelling.“No, no. I was talking about your eyes, they’re huge. And beautiful.” Paul’s quiet.

You fell asleep finally, more than forty five minutes after Paul first arrived at your door, though he looked at you for many more minutes after that, taking in your calm and relaxed face. Your left arm was wrapped around one of your pillows, squeezing it unconsciously. How easy would it be to simply move the pillow a little bit and take its place… The priest sighed. It wouldn’t be right.

Instead, his hand pushed a few stray hairs out of your face and slowly stroked your smooth cheek. You leaned into his tender touch, the corners of your mouth turning upwards ever so slightly. “You really are going to be the death of me,” he sighed once more and forced himself to leave your bedside.

He silently tried to make his way out of your house, when he heard a quiet gasp. Paul turned around and his eyes landed on a girl your age, her hair a mess and clothes rather dishevelled. She was just exiting your bathroom. “Um, you’re a priest,” she slurred her words, seeming even drunker than you were, “does that mean I’m like… dead, or something?” Father Paul blinked and fought back a grin. “No,” he said calmly, “no I’m just a marlin and you’re a shark. Also, you’re dreaming. Goodnight.” The girl nodded her head quickly, as if she’d already known what he just told her: “Oh okay. Goodnight Mr Marlin” and with that she dragged herself back to your living room.

Paul chuckled to himself all the way back to the rectory.

—

You woke up hating yourself. Your head was throbbing and why on earth is there so much light in here?! Through squinted eyes, you located a few pills of aspirin on your nightstand, and you immediately popped a couple of them into your mouth. You drank half of the big glass of water which was right next to the meds in a single breath, feeling thirsty like you spent the last eight hours walking through a scorching desert. 'I am never drinking again' you thought bitterly as you settled on your side once more, staring morosely at the half empty glass. Speaking of which, how did that get here? You definitely didn't remember fetching it, as you'd have to climb a chair in order to reach the cupboard where you stored your medication. The girls couldn't have done it either, as they were already passed out yesterday, drunker than you, and were probably still asleep.

And then bits and snippets began coming back. Father Paul. You didn't really remember what you spoke about (if you spoke at all), but he was definitely in your house yesterday… in your room even! 'Oh god.' You covered your face in embarrassment, actually praying that you didn't do or say anything stupid. You scanned the room with your eyes, looking for your phone. It lay on your dresser, charging, right where you left it before Erin came to join you for dinner. You crawled out of bed, your legs feeling like lead and grabbed the phone, returning back on the mattress promptly.

There was one new message, but it wasn't from Father Paul, but rather your teacher friend.

"Text me when you wake up. Just let me know that you're alive lol"

And so you did, vaguely. It was 11 o'clock. You debated whether you should call Paul and find out whether you caused any major faux pas while he was over, so you could start apologising, but then ultimately decided against it. You groaned. You had a godawful taste in your mouth and could actually smell the alcohol vapour coming off your skin. In that moment, you decided it was for the best if you put yourself together before going to apologise to the local priest for any embarrassing things you might have said or done to him, lest you embarrass yourself even further.

You checked on Zoe and Libby and, as you expected, they were still sleeping soundly on your couch, limbs sprawled out in all directions. "Shower, anyone?" You asked entirely too quiet for them to hear you, even if they weren't still sleeping off last night's activities, "no? Guess I'm going first then."

You brushed your teeth twice, and used a copious amount of mouthwash, trying to get that 'something died here' taste out, and your skin was nearly sore by the time you finished scrubbing at it. To your surprise, blowing your hair dry still didn't wake your friends up, and you therefore had some more time to make yourself appear like a human again. Once you were satisfied, it was just after 12 o'clock, and about time the girls began to pull themselves together as well.

So you woke them up, as gently as you could, providing them with a 'hangover morning starter pack'; clean towels, new toothbrushes, glass of seltzer and more aspirin, and Zoe and Libby took turns in your bathroom, while you went to cook some quick chicken soup to eliminate your hangovers.

In the end, it was a pretty fun evening and you were glad your friends came to see you. While you truly did like your home on Crockett Island, you had to admit you sometimes missed your more lively hometown, and therefore loved every single new story the girls threw at you. When the time came, and you embraced each of them before they got onto the Belle, all of you looked almost as presentable as you looked the previous day.

You walked home, intent on cleaning up the place a little. It wasn't too bad, just some pillows out of place, a sticky ring on the coffee table from one of the glasses, a small salsa stain on the hardwood floor from a late night snack. Huh, what is this? It seemed Libby forgot her earrings, which is, of course, just like her.

Then suddenly, there was a knock.

"I would've sent you the earrings by post, you know? Now you've missed the ferry." you called as you made your way towards the door, "I've got no problem with you guys crashing in my place one more night, but I'm not drinking anything else than water! Also I'm going to church tomorrow, so I'm waking up early." You opened the door. Once more, it was not whom you expected. Instead of the two girls with sheepish smiles on their faces, there stood the local priest, his own smile anything but sheepish.

"Oh…" you said, "um, hi." You couldn't read his expression, but Paul could definitely see the red beginning to settle within your cheeks. "Hello," he said, his grin widening, "I am of course glad to hear both of those things." You chuckled nervously and then stepped aside, letting him into your house once again. You went into the kitchen and you automatically began preparing tea while he sat down at the table. "Um," you said eloquently, "there's some soup if you'd like?" Father Paul gratefully accepted and soon happily ate his hot soup.

"I, uh, I wanted to apologise," you began, spinning the spoon in your large cup of mint tea. Father Paul swallowed and gave you a confused look: "Huh? What for?" You sighed. "Okay, first off, you know I don't drink too often, right?" He hummed in a 'yes'. "But, well, I really overdid it yesterday with the girls, and the thing is that I don't… remember much. So if I did anything really embarrassing, or inappropriate, I wanted to apologise. So, yeah, I'm really sorry." The priest shook his head gently and chuckled into his plate: "Don't worry, you didn't do anything of that sort. We just talked."

"What did we talk about?" you asked then. Paul's lips did that little 'mouth shrug' you thought was absolutely cute as well as hilarious. "A number of things, pretty small, I don't remember most of it myself. You said something about The Old man and the sea. Your favourite book, I presume?" he asked in a light tone, putting another spoonful of soup into his mouth. You nodded a little and finally smiled. Once Father Paul finished his plate and wiped his lips with a napkin, he made himself comfortable in your kitchen chair and reached for his tea: "I mean it, you don't have to apologise for anything. You had fun with your friends, had a few drinks, slept it off, all of you are fine. As you said, you don't drink, and no, I don't count one glass of wine to go with supper as drinking." You grinned and swallowed your protest.

"Thank you for the aspirin and water, by the way," you said then, feeling much better, "you saved my life." Paul gave you a serene look: "Such is a priest's purpose." You giggled and lightly slapped his arm. "You were rather cute actually," he then said offhandedly, making you raise your eyebrows at him, "yeah. All sweet and smiley." "I am always sweet and smiley!" you gasped in mock offence. He shrugged and you slapped his arm again and giggled. Paul joined you soon.

"However, if you ever feel like, I don't know, you want to have a glass of wine outside of dinner, there's this really cool after-school club you can join," he carried on, his voice dripping with dry humour. "What, your AA after-school club?" "No, the Crockett Island book club, you can talk about Ernest Hemingway there all you like." Your eyebrows furrowed in thought. "Paul, there isn't a Crockett Island book club, I think I'd know if there was. And I'd definitely know if they had wine there," you said finally, looking at the priest with squinted eyes. "Oh, well, we currently only have one member, um, me, and the meetings are held in the rectory, but you can join if you want, I'd definitely like to see you there."

You observed him, his expression unreadable again, or it would've been had he not been holding his breath. You released an amused sound, one of your hands coming up on the table to support the weight of your head. You were in big trouble. You probably loved this man. Still you grinned at him, looking into his warm, sparkling eyes.

"So what are we reading?"

Hello, I hope you enjoyed reading this silly little thing. You can check this story and the entire series on AO3. I’m always so grateful for feedback <3

[professionallydeadinside]

Hi thinking more about if various horror/scary media characters all lived in a neighbourhood/town together and what that would be like

Eddie and Waylon own a tailor shop (or dress shop idk google wouldn’t give me a straight answer on what you’d call a place where outfits are made and altercated) and probably live in a nice ass place above the shop itself along with their daughter Marta (im always pushing this agenda you should know this). Going completely with fanon Eddie who’s nicer and like less like misogynistic 40s but like what those women who say “i wish I lived in the forty’s!” think men in the 40s were like. So more he would knock a guys teeth in for catcalling someone and less he’d beat his wife for spilling milk or speaking out of turn. He also totally lets Marta be goth because 1) that’s his baby girl and she can get away with anything and 2) because he’s a tailor and I think he’d really enjoy learning a new style of dress to make for his daughter because if you think he isn’t hand making his shit in his shop and for his family you are dead wrong no one can make a dress like he can. No one knows what actual gender or sex Waylon is and they’re all far too afraid to ask

Billy and Stu are there and one of them is being raised by Adam and Lawrence from Saw and i dont know which and who the other ones parents would be but i also think that’s how it would be in canon where nobody actually knows who Adam and Lawrence are raising because they’ve known since Billy and Stu met that they’re totally gonna get married so they just treat the other like their son anyway

The most normal ones there are Joel and Ellie who live in a cabin in the woods and literally only count because their game is technically horror scary media

The family from Hill House are the weird eccentric family and everyone knows all their drama. Constant talk of the town

One day this fuckin weird priest and his boyfriend (who apparently killed a girl??) moved in and they’re extremely strange but also seem pretty nice so nobody really knows how to feel about Riley and Father Paul

Resident Evil mfs are there too. I do not know enough about Leon and gang to say what they would be but the Bakers are definitely there and Ethan is an eternally tired dad with a chaotic husband and three daughters (Rose, Evie, and Eva) that Eddie and Waylon love to babysit but must fight with Marguerite and Jack to be able to. Ethan is like a son to Marguerite and Jack, and he’s pretty close with Lucas and Zoe. Sewer Gators are there and all the high schoolers make fun of them because cmon. Clancy joins in because he also thinks the show is dumb and should be mocked.

There’s more but im too fuckin stupid to remember any other scary horror media so like here is the beginning have fun with my half baked ideas

MARTA BEING WAYLON AND EDDIE'S DAUGHTER???? HUGE BRAIN I LOVE THAT FOR THEM WAKJHGFDSFGHJ

Also love that you didn't mention Mia with Ethan so it just sounds like he's a single father with three super powered daughters (as he should be)

[sleepymushroomkupo]

Midnight Mass Spoilers (Kind of)

Thinking about how Joe Collie, though he may not have known it, found community with Riley Flynn, someone he had not spoken to before his first AA meeting. Their shared experience with alcoholism made them bond because they understood each other’s guilt of hurting other people; they understood each other’s self-loathing, the feeling that they deserved to be dead, or at least to suffer, with Joe saying that he felt he shouldn’t be able to just leave. They understood each other in a way no one else in Crockett possibly could.

Before Riley, Joe had no one to relate to. He was the town outcast who couldn’t find belonging anywhere or with anyone (except Pike, but we all know what happened to him). Sure, Bill was the only one who treated him decently and checked in on him once in a while, but the connection Joe had with him was surface level.

I wish Joe could have known that Riley was trying to look out for him when he went back to confront “Father Paul” for lying to him about Joe’s absence. It speaks volumes how Riley just couldn’t shake the bad feeling this seemingly simple lie gave him. Like, he cared about Joe enough to go call “Father Paul” out on his bullshit. And that’s what it is to be part of a community, to look out for each other, and care even a little bit.

[justfanficccc]

Blessed are the Meek

Father Paul x Reader

WARNING: nsfw smut/n0n consensual bl00d drinking?/blasphemy/Funeral shit

VIIII

Communion

“on the night he was betrayed, he took the bread, gave it to his disciples and said, ‘Take this, it is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me.’"

You never did ask him about Leeza, you didn’t want to bother him with your doubt. While you sat next to him in the dark you realized you didn’t care. Not really anyways. Leeza could walk, and that was a miracle in itself. Paul would never use it as leverage to gain something, Bev maybe. But not Paul. And if he believed it was God then so be it. You decided it was a happy coincidence and will leave it at that. You were able to have him agree to the Funeral Mass and eulogy the last Sunday you had seen him, but you were worried since the night you spent watching over him was the last you had heard from him. Since he had been in such bad shape drifting in and out of consciousness you wondered if he remembered what you had asked of him. He would wake up in a cold sweat grasping for something to cling to and you had been there to caress his hair and let him fall asleep in your arms. You finally left his side on Monday morning, he had woken up and seemed a bit better, not needing you to hold up his weight like the night before. He still looked awful and before you left that morning he had promised you he would go see a doctor. You knew he was lying, his brows turned up slightly as he spoke to you. “I will call Dr. Gunning today, I promise.” He said as he brushed his thumb across your cheek. His words sounded like sweet honey even when he wasn’t being honest.

Saturday morning you wake to find Anne lying next to you in your bed, the nostalgia of it almost hurts. It reminds you of when you were both small and she would sneak into your room at night. She has always been easy to scare. Even if she was your older sister you felt she needed to be protected. She'd always been shorter than you with the anxiety of a small chihuahua. Without protest, you had always invited her in and held her close to you. You may not always get along but nothing would ever come between the two of you, nothing would ever keep you from having her back.

You roll out of bed quietly, trying not to wake her. Moments like this are few and far between, silence between the two of you that isn't caused by an argument is rare. You watch her as she snores loudly, chuckling quietly to yourself. You don't want her to wake up, knowing how upset she will be that she's another day closer to burying your father.

Leaving the house today you don't know where you’re going, but you feel you need to get out of the stuffy old house. The air is cold as it hits your nose and travels to your lungs. Maybe you can go check on Paul? No, he is fine. Bev is probably taking much better care of him than you could. She’s been up his ass since he arrived here so you’re sure she is very excited to tend to the sick man.

Maybe you can go to the convince store and try to spark up another conversation with the handsome Sheriff? You cringe to yourself as the realization hits you. You are just trying to stop thinking of Paul again. Same as what you did with Riley.

You keep walking until the morning air turns warmer, you’ve reached the outskirts of town, the beach is rocky and uneven here. You reach out into the crashing waves. They hit the sharp rocks beneath your feet, the water is cool and foamy. It smells like fish and salt. “God I wish you could be here with me dad, you would have loved this view.” You speak softly as the water comes and goes through your fingers. You feel the familiar stinging in your eyes but aren’t sure if it's tears or the saltwater-filled air.

“Hey! I’ve been calling for like a week, where have you been?” A harsh voice calls to you loudly over the crashing waves.

You stand up slowly and wipe the salt water-drenched hands onto your jeans. Taking a deep breath you stand up slowly watching your balance on the rocks. You turn around to find Riley standing behind you, hands in his pockets. A worried and angry look cast across his face.

“I’m sorry…I’ve been busy with the whole funeral thing and…” You’re almost yelling now so he can hear you over the loud ocean.

He puts a hand out signaling you to stop.

“You don’t have to bullshit me.” His eyes closed as he speaks.

“Riley I-I had a great night the other night but I-“ you’re trying to be as fragile as you can as you speak, walking towards him carefully stepping over the protruding stones.

“But what? It was a mistake? An accident?” He cocks his head as he questions you, still yelling though you are only a few feet away.

“You know, I’ve heard it all before.” His brows are pointed downwards as he frowns.

“But I didn’t think id hear it from you.” He shakes his head and closes his eyes.

You sigh and cross your arms around yourself contemplating your next words carefully. You don’t want to upset him, he's a friend. Maybe the only friend you have here other than Paul. Do you want to mess that up?

“Riley I wasn’t going to say anything like that.” You lie, you were going to tell him that it was a mistake. That you just went along with it because you were lonely.

“I just, I wanted to take it slower than that.” You can’t believe you’re doing this, it's wrong, you shouldn’t be leading him on. But you don’t want to lose him, don’t want to lose the only sane friend you’ve found here.

He looks up at you through his eyelashes in confusion and embarrassment, his hand scratching the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry, I just thought since you weren’t answering you-“

You walk closer to him, grabbing his free hand.

“Riley, you are the only person on this goddamn island I can stand, ok?” This is partially the truth. You know you will only be here for maybe another month or two max, and will probably never see him again after that. Yes it is horrible and yes you will probably break his heart but you can’t right now, you need him.

“Well, I’m glad I was wrong then.”

You two walk the island for most of the afternoon. You enjoy his company, the conversations you two share. He holds your hand while you stroll down the damp path towards your home. You can feel your stomach flip as you approach the small town, the church looming in the distance. You pray that when you walk past the rectory Paul won't be watching you out of his window. Finally reaching home you give Riley a chaste kiss on the cheek, you can see him blush as you pull away and smile sweetly at him. Wishing you could feel the same for him as he does you.

Anne sits at the dining room table clutching the small black box in her hands, she hasn’t changed from her pajamas and barely notices as you walk in the door.

“Oh, Annie.” You pull your jacket off and quickly cross the room with arms already outstretched. She doesn’t look up to you, just sobs quietly into the crook of your neck.

“I-I just can’t believe he's going to be gone.” She says quickly as she takes another deep breath and lets out a low howl into you now crying harder.

“I know Anne, I know.” You press your cheek into the top of her head, shushing her gently as you pull her closer to you. She cries for what seems like an hour, her cries are loud enough you know the neighbors can hear. You don’t care, if they have a problem with it they can take it up with you.

“Father Paul called.” She says catching her breath still mumbling into your shirt.

“What did he say?” You pet her head as you ask trying to hide your interest.

“He need-needed to ch-change the time fo-for mass tomorrow.” She says crying in between breaths. Your eyes squeeze into a glare and your brows furrow.

“What? To when?”

“Seven p.m.” she blurts out as she wipes her tears on your shoulder.

“Ok, that’s ok right?” She nods her head slowly. You wonder what could be so important that he had to move the time for the funeral. There’s no one else he has to bury, you grow increasingly more irritated as you sit at the table comforting your sister. You two sit like this for the rest of the night, and when you decide to go to bed you insist she sleeps in your bed tonight. You say it's for her but know you need her just as much as she needs you right now.

The daylight fades from the sky fast, it's Sunday. You wish you could just leave, ignore your responsibilities and take the ferry back to the mainland. You let Anne borrow your long black dress and you both laugh at the fact that she is borrowing clothes from you to wear to church. You choose a shorter black dress. Form-fitting with a turtleneck, pairing the dress with a pair of black tights and some black high tops. You catch Anne glaring at your shoes but she quickly brushes it off, too mentally exhausted to argue with you tonight. You two walk slowly to the church, Anne carrying the small black box.

“You know, I appreciate you doing all of this for me.” She sniffles as she speaks.

“It’s nothing, really.” You place a supportive hand on her back. She looks up at you with tears resting in her eyes.

“Let’s get this over with” you grumble as you approach the small white building.

The pews fill quickly, the entire town seems to be here tonight. Sad eyes rest on the partitioner's faces as they greet you both at the door. Some offer hugs or solemn words. You thank them the best you can while watching your sister the whole time. Making sure she is still ok, she’s barely spoken since you’ve arrived at the church, her gaze barely leaving the ground. Finally, the clock hits 7 and you rejoice as you can both take your seats at the very front of the church. The small black box containing whatever’s left of your father sits on the alter, most of the time there would be a whole casket ordained with a huge bouquet and religious symbols. But this was just a box, dust.

You hear him before you see him as the church fills with music the piano singing your dad’s favorite song.

“Ave, Maria, grátia plena

Maria grátia plena

Maria grátia plena

Ave, ave Dóminus

Dóminus tecum”

You hear him singing as he passes next to you. He kneels next to the small box, holding himself there as he watches the crucifix above him and mumbles a small prayer. He looks at you quickly, an odd look. As his eyes catch yours you can see the reflection of a candle burning in them. They flicker back to the pulpit. He looks much better, seems a lot healthier. He walks slowly to the left of the altar, he seems to float while wearing the chasuble his feet hidden. In moments like these, you don’t see him as a human, he holds so much holiness as he speaks. His whole body emanating the power of the lord. You shake your head quickly trying to get him out of your head. Mass goes smoothly, his eyes still catching light every time they land on you. You swear he looks better than you remember but just assume it's because you’ve missed him so much. As church ends you breathe a sigh of relief. “It’s almost over,” you think to yourself. The final hymn plays and you watch the congregation file out of the building. You pull yourself up from the pew and hold a hand out to help your sister up, she takes it and gets herself up slowly. She walks to the altar, kneels, and signs the cross. You stand there watching her, wishing you could find the kind of comfort she has in God. When she finishes she gently picks up the box and turns to you.

“Come on, almost done.” Your mouth turns up on one end in a small grin.

She grabs your hand as you walk towards the exit. She’s upset, visibly so. Her steps turn to stomps as you leave.

In the dark, it's hard to see what is happening. The only light is from the windows of the church and the moon. Father Paul stands to your left. His arms and hands reach out as he prays, one hand is holding a rosary the other holding his bible. Your sister stands to your right, crying quietly and holding onto your dad’s ashes for dear life. You press your hand into your sister’s as Paul prays over the small hole. Before finishing the rosary he reaches out his hand and wraps it around yours, he feels warm. No, he feels hot, is he still sick? The rosary presses into you as he tightens his grip.

“Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.”

“Amen.” You hear yourself say it before you can think about it. Father Paul squeezes your hand again as you say it.

Your sister doesn’t budge, you can feel her apprehension.

“Anne it's time.” Father Paul says quietly after waiting in silence for a few minutes.

You both shoot him an angry look as to say “she can take as much goddamn time as she needs.” His forehead wrinkles and he nods his head quickly and apologetically.

“Anne if it's too hard for you I-“

“No, I can do it.” She spits out under her breath.

Father Paul watches her closely, his eyes large and worried-looking as always.

“I love you daddy” she whispers as she gives the box a small kiss. She kneels and presses her head into the black container.

She finally places it into the hole slowly, so carefully like it is made of glass. You press your hand onto her back and she breaths sharply.

“Anne, it's gonna be ok.” You say quietly as she cries into the hole. She picks herself up quickly, brushing off the dirt on her knees.

“Is that it?” She’s pissed off now. Not sad. She wants this to be over. You can see that the sadness of grief has been replaced by exhaustion and anger.

“Yes, we can finish up if you-“ Father Paul is cut off by Anne spinning around and stomping away.

“I guess dramatic exits run in the family.” You whisper to him trying to break the awkwardness of the moment.

“Sturge can fill the hole,” Paul says quietly, rubbing his fingers across the leather on the worn book.

“She will be ok, she just needs time.” You assure him.

“Can we talk?” You blurt it out as soon as your sister is far enough away not to hear you.

“Of course.” He hasn’t looked at you since mass, he keeps his eyes away from you as you walk slowly towards the rectory.

“What did Dr. Gunning say? Anything serious?” You sit on the small sofa in his living room. Your hands resting on your knees that are pulled tightly together. The dress you chose doesn’t allow any wiggle room so you try your best to be as ladylike as possible. Even after the strange night you had shared you still feel you have to be modest around him. He comes to your side, handing you a small cup of tea on a saucer plate. He sits next to you but keeps his distance, at the complete opposite end of the couch.

“I’m fine, just a flu bug is all.” He sips his tea, it's noticeably darker than yours with a red hue to it, almost like communion wine. His eyes flicker again as he looks at you, it's so strange. They almost look like cat’s eyes when you shine a light at them in a dark room, reflective and bright. You don’t remember them ever being so dark.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that.”

He nods at you while you sip your drink. This is awkward, it's not like the other night. You are 100% sober and clear-headed and it makes it hard for you to feel comfortable. Paul watches you in the quiet, his eyes moving from your hand clasping the cup to your neck, keeping a close eye as you swallow. He seems on edge, cold and distant.

“Are we going to talk about it or-“ he chokes on his drink, cutting you off.

“I'm sorry, I just…I'm confused and you didn’t call. I guess it's a bit different than a normal one-night stand.” Your eyes grow large as you speak the feeling of nervousness bubbles in your stomach and chest. Fuck why did you bring it up?

He moves closer to you, scooting ever so slightly as he places his cup on the floor next to him. His face meeting yours now only a foot away, he takes his hand off of his knee and barely rests it on top of your thigh, his body now turned to face you.

Fuck fuck fuck I can’t do this sober. You think to yourself.

“I would like to, um, confide something in you” his long fingers grip your leg slowly, his eyes grazing your neck then trail up to your jaw and lips. You can feel yourself swallow hard as he scans you diligently.

“I have been given something.” His hand travels up to the top of your thigh now on the hem of your dress. He keeps his dark eyes on your mouth as his fingers loop under your dress to tease the knitted material.

“God has given me something.” His eyes close as he breathes heavily, uneven and deep.

“It’s like I can feel him…moving inside of me.” You barely listen to his words as he plays with the fabric between his fingers. His fingertips brush the soft part of your inner thigh.

“Paul, I-“

He reaches his free hand up to your collar bone, wrapping it around the side of your neck. He leans in so slowly, he is taking his time, contemplating his next move.

His nose brushes against your jugular, his hair tickling your cheek. You can’t breathe, not because his hand is around you but because if you exhale you know you’ll let out a pathetic sound.

“I can save you, I can give you this gift.” He breaths into you. His words are so soft you can barely hear him. Laying a sweet kiss onto the side of your throat.

“Please” you whimper out now letting yourself breathe. After hearing the word his hand frantically pulls up your dress and practically rips the tights as he pulls them down. He doesn’t leave your side, his face still pressed into your neck.

He pulls your lace panties to the side quickly and presses only the tip of his finger between your folds.

He moans softly as he feels you.

“You feel heavenly, sweet girl.” You let out a louder cry as he kisses your jaw. His eyes closed as he works his fingers slowly.

“I want to enter into communion with you.” He whispers into your ear, your eyes now squeezed shut as you grip the couch beneath you. You have no idea what he’s saying, your mind is shut off. Any words that come out of his mouth at this point are erotic. You want to reach for him, feel his warmth in your hand. You know he wants you as well, his length is practically begging to be set free under his tight black dress slacks. You can all but see the head of his cock pulsing underneath.

He kisses your neck again softly and guides himself down to his knees in front of you, his hands wrap around the bunched-up fabric of your pantyhose and he pulls them down. He doesn’t completely remove them as one ankle is still tangled up in the nylon black fabric. He watches your face as he uses his fingers to guide your legs open. His eyes are black, absorbing the light from the kitchen. He looks like an animal, a predator, and god you want him to ravage you whole.

He bows his head pressing his lips to your inner thigh, his eyes still locked on yours.

He mumbles something into your thigh, his hot air on your skin. He’s praying into you. The feeling of guilt and pleasure build up in you, all he would have to do is brush your clit once and you’d finish. His hands explore your thighs and hips, grabbing at them like they may disappear if he doesn’t hold tight enough. His head finally nuzzles in between your legs and you feel him let out a moan as he presses his mouth and nose into you. He lifts his head to see you watching him, a grin spreading across his face. He seems to enjoy feeling you squirm under him. At first, he just dips his tongue into you, savoring it like it's his last meal.

“Better than wine.” He hums and before you can respond he's lapping at your swollen parts. You grab tightly on his hair, wrapping the jet-black locks in between your fingers. You pull tightly as he sucks on you, the pleasure is too much to bear. He doesn’t stop though. If anything it has just amplified the thirst he has. His fingers shock you as they enter, they curve up and press into your velvet insides. His face is moist and hot with your wetness. You can feel it burning inside of you, the familiar pressure cascading down your stomach into your core. He doesn’t stop even when your legs buckle around him, he wants this to last. Even after you finish he stays between your legs, gently licking and kissing your most delicate parts and admiring his messy work. His fingers trail down your leg, fingertips petting your inner thigh. He stops on a spot right below your groin, his eyes now so reflective you can see yourself in them. He presses his free hand under your knee and raises your leg to his mouth. He looks feral, hungry. You assume he’s going to try for another so you lay back on the couch and push yourself towards him, humming as his teeth nibble at your soft skin.

“This is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. Happy are those who are called to his supper.”

You grin, the thought of him thinking of you as holy as communion. Before you have a chance to reply you feel a sharp bright pain coming from your thigh. It burns so deep you swear he has broken skin. But no, not him. He’d never hurt you. You squeeze your thighs together trying to push him away. He doesn’t budge, his mouth hooked onto your leg.

“No, it hurts.” You mumble and reach for his head to try to push him away.

The pain becomes too much and you cry out, your eyes snap open and you look down mortified watching as Paul tears into your flesh with his teeth.

“Paul! Please, it hurts!” You scream in agony, trying to break yourself away from him clawing at his arm. His head lifts up to you, his eyes glossed over and fuzzy. His hands grip the sides of your body holding you in place. His face is covered in your blood.

He must’ve hit an artery, you feel yourself grow weak as the sticky red liquid pours onto the floor.

“Shhh- Little lamb, I am giving you a gift.” He presses his face back into the wound, completely ignoring your screams. The light in the room starts to fade, your vision foggy and warped. He feeds on your blood for mere minutes before you feel yourself growing cold, your body drained. Your vision is gone, only small pinpricks of light flash inside of your eyelids. You can barely feel him get up and hover over you, his knees pressing into the couch on either side of you.

“Drink from it, all of you. This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins” you hear him whisper to you, his voice sounds shaky and uneven.

“Drink, drink, drink.” You hear as the hot iron-tasting liquid fills your mouth.

[airdropababy]

A Guide To The Wayward Guide Podcast: Chapter 4

Previous Chapter Guides: Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Chapter Length: ~20 minutes

Release Dates:

Podcast: November 6th, 2020

YouTube: January 5th, 2021

Who Do We Hear From?

Established Characters: Prism, Riley, Truman, Sybilus, Donny, and Lesly

Guest Voices:

Clark Baxtresser as the campaign ad narrator

Speakers in the Truman campaign ads: Jane Leach, Bob Richter, Denise Richter, Lindsey Etheridge, Ed Powell, and Liz Siron (Joey confirmed that his parents did give to the kickstarter at the appropriate reward level to have parts in the podcast).

Episode Transcript Link: Chapter 4

Placement in Continuity: The Prism audio is from their visit to her in Episode 2, then they discuss the aftermath of the end of Episode 3 before going on to discussing the town council meeting from Episode 4.

Chapter Breakdown:

Intro: Paul does the intro this time, explaining the observer effect with various different examples from tire pressure, reality tv, and finally the behavior of the Connor Creek citizens. He explains that the pressure on the town council election made it hard to figure out who was lying to them and who was telling the truth.

After the Theme Song: The twins discuss what little Paul remembers of when he and Prism were attacked. Artemis admits to her journalistic faux pas of getting actively involved at the town council meeting. The bulk of the episode is about Truman having a history in small town politics and long allegiance to the fossil fuel industry.

Paul introduces himself as: “The All Knowing All Paul-werful Paul Shue-Horyn.”

Artemis starts speaking here, asking Paul why he was talking about the observer effect in relation to their investigation.

They introduce the audio from their visit to see Prism together from Episode 2, going back over how they had a fight on the next day that led Paul to go back to Prism.

Artemis explains that all they could really tell from meeting Prism is that she was anti-Miner Mole by her gloomy predictions but they thought she might be hiding something.

Paul explains that the difficulty reading Prism was part of what made him go back to her after the fight with Artemis, in addition to her connection to the paranormal due to his interest in the werewolf angle.

He tells of the attack and how Prism was murdered while he got away only with some scratches.

They wonder about the attack happening right around/after when Silas threatened their safety at the end of Artemis’s time in his office and if Prism would’ve been killed if Paul wasn’t there.

Paul explains that the attacker was behind him and all he saw was the look of horror on Prism’s face before he was knocked out until the next morning.

Artemis fills in that when she went to Prism’s to meet Dr. Henry and Sheriff Madison that she saw that Prism’s body was still there and the injuries were similar to Ryan’s.

Artemis theorizes that it had to be a calculated attack by a human as an animal would’ve gone after both of Prism and Paul.

Paul theorizes that it could be a human with the strength of a beast.

A check-in voicemail from Lesly is inserted, telling Artemis to not stray off-path from the initial notes and to stick to their high standard of journalistic integrity. And how he’d possibly like to be in the podcast as a mentor, possibly under an alias.

They bring it back around to the observer effect and how Artemis blew entirely past just the observer effect and got fully involved at the town council meeting while Paul recovered from his attack on Day Four.

They play a clip of Truman’s election ad filled with glowing endorsements to cover some of her backstory:

She was a recent transplant

Has a history of working her way up in small local governments.

Never stays for more than a couple years.

Always favors the fossil fuel industry and free market growth.

Artemis also covers what few personal details she could find about Truman, that she had just moved to town the fall before, and some surface history about her father and maternal grandfather both having histories in the mining industry.

Between leaving Silas’s office and finding out about Paul’s attack, Artemis called Truman’s election office for a phone interview and Truman actually engaged her request, much to Artemis’s surprise.

The audio of the phone interview shows what a politician Truman is.

She knew who Artemis was and what she was covering.

Truman goes out of her way to praise how quickly a small town’s government can function compared to a bigger entity as her motivation for running for the open council seat.

Artemis explains to the audience that the town council was purposely opening an election for a long vacant seat because they’d been in a stalemate for over a year over making a decision about Miner Mole and that’s when Truman stepped in.

Truman expresses polite remorse over Ryan’s death

Artemis confirms that Truman seemed to care about Connor Creek unlike Silas.

Another Truman testimonial campaign ad is run. This time naming that the ad was paid for by Truman For Connor Creek.

Artemis explains that TFCC was Truman for Connor Creek and Truman’s campaign was where the money from Miner Mole went.

Paul jokes that Truman and Miner Mole’s plan to expand silver mining in Connor Creek was the first step to world domination.

Artemis cuts back to audio from the council meeting and shares her motivation for speaking up at the meeting and nominating Madison.

She plays audio of herself confronting Truman after the meeting about Silas and Truman tells Artemis off for “disrupting our peaceful little town”.

The twins contemplate that if Miner Mole had bought Truman, who else might they be controlling in town to get their way?

Next Time: Election Day audio where Donny is conflicted about filling in his martial status on his ballot.

What Do We Learn About Connor Creek?

Riley answers the phone at the Truman campaign headquarters.

Riley is still calling Artemis "Fartemis".

Truman likes puns.

Truman has been in town since “last fall”.

Truman’s ad paid for by Truman for Connor Creek includes “move forward together” as part of her campaign statement.

Donny is of legal voting age for Connor Creeks’ local elections.

What Do We Learn About Artemis and Paul?

Artemis’s preferred drink is a neat scotch.

Paul likes a tequila sunrise.

Paul notes that Prism’s store smells like the twins’ mee-ma’s poker den.

Paul suggests this isn’t the first time Artemis’s sense of justice overtook her journalistic integrity.

Artemis is embarrassed that she got involved and tried to cut it from the podcast entirely.

What Do We Learn About the Universe the Show Takes Place In?

APN couldn’t afford to license AC/DC for Paul’s reference to “Highway to Hell”.

Truman Backstory Specific Info:

Truman’s ad says she has 15 years of experience in civil service.

It also states that she has a track record with helping towns recover financially by working with the private sector.

She has a history of running for local government offices in small towns, staying only a year or two for political experience

Her career started in a town south-east of San Diego where she climbed the ladder to chief of staff of the (now deceased) mayor.

Her political allegiances always favor the fossil fuel industry and free market growth.

Truman’s maternal grandfather was a “glorified prospector” with a business called “Mine Your Own Business”.

Her father was a policy maker for the Department of the Interior.

[marvelousmatt]

The Accidental Comedy of Matt Berry

The star of IFC’s detective-series spoof ‘Year of the Rabbit,’ famed for his booming voice and over-the-top faces, never set out to be funny

Matt Berry as Detective Inspector Rabbit in 'Year of the Rabbit.'  Ben Meadows/IFC

If you know Matt Berry from his most famous roles — such as The IT Crowd’s idiot boss Douglas Reynholm, Toast of London’s pompous struggling actor Steven Toast, or the preening and lascivious vampire Laszlo on What We Do in the Shadows — talking to him over the phone is sort of like meeting his un-evil twin. Where his characters are outrageous and inappropriate, Berry is circumspect and gentlemanly. While they pronounce every word as if they’re doing Shakespeare in the Park, with a ponderous theatricality, his signature rich baritone comes over the line from London sounding muted by comparison. It’s as though he’s playing the straight man in a sketch of his own life.

Whatever absurd and profane notions he has rattling around in his head, Berry saves them for his work. His latest offering, IFC’s Year of the Rabbit (a collaboration among Berry, producer Ben Farrell, and writers Andy Riley and Kevin Cecil), is a send-up of the period detective shows that are a staple of British television. Set in Victorian times, it centers on his titular character, Rabbit, a cranky copper who bumbles through every episode but slyly solves the whodunit in the end — a kind of gruff, English Columbo in a waistcoat. In the “why not” fashion typical of Berry’s comedy, the character is missing an eyebrow (a trait the show repeatedly explains away with the intentionally unconvincing line that it was chewed off by a dog last Christmas). He’s named Rabbit — his actual first name, with no surname — not because of any correlation with, say, the Chinese calendar, but because… well, just because.

“His father couldn’t be bothered giving any of the kids any normal names, so he just named them after animals and then left them outside a church,” Berry says matter-of-factly, as if Rabbit and his father are real. Pressed on the matter, he adds, “We have a huge history over here of these shows, Agatha Christie and stuff, and they all have these names, Inspector This and That. I just wanted to do something stupid with that — give him an animal name and not anything else. So he really is as earthy as you can get in that way. There’s nothing fancy about him at all.”

Rabbit is an inveterate boozehound with a colorful vocabulary. He beats up a schoolteacher on career day to demonstrate interrogation techniques to the children. He tells his rookie partner that the way to keep warm during a wintertime stakeout is to piss himself. He describes the London of his day as “a rat eating its own babies. Babies made of shit. And once it’s eaten its own shit babies, it shits them out again.” He is paired, reluctantly, with two bright-eyed and bushy-tailed colleagues to form a crack investigative team, a juxtaposition which only underscores his baser qualities.

“He’s basically trying to hide the fact that he’s incredibly hungover and not firing on all cylinders,” Berry says. “Whereas his younger sidekicks won’t be, because when you’re that young, you know, you get over a hangover by like 10 o’clock in the morning. I wanted him to be dull, in terms of reactions to things, but effective.”

Robert Bathurst, Matt Berry, and Harry Peacock in Toast of London. Photo Credit: Kuba Wieczorek/IFC/CH4

Ineptitude and buffoonery are much more the calling cards of Steven Toast, whose massive ego blinds him to his own failings. He is an oblivious object of mockery at the hands of his voiceover producers, a pair of douchey hipsters named Clem Fandango and Danny Bear, and his mistress, Mrs. Purchase (wife of Toast’s acting nemesis Ray “Bloody” Purchase), looks eternally bored during their trysts. His long-suffering agent has to force him to become a laxative pitchman, yet he complains that she’s not scoring him Oscar-caliber roles.

If Toast is the character closest to Berry’s heart, it’s for good reason. Despite a brand of humor that seems firmly rooted in the British tradition — the surreality and silliness of Python, the cartoonish prurience of Benny Hill — Berry, 45, maintains that he wasn’t especially interested in comedy growing up. He cites as his primary influence not comedic greats such as Peter Sellers or contemporaries like Steve Coogan, but “straight actors, people that normally weren’t trying to be funny.” The more “mannered” and “self-important” the star, Berry says, the funnier he found them. The line to Toast is clear — especially in his puffed-up diction and bizarrely exaggerated pronunciation of ordinary words (such as his praise of guest-star Jon Hamm’s “charismaaaaaaaeeeeeee”). Imagine the famous outtakes of a drunk Orson Welles filming a Paul Masson wine commercial, and you’re on the right track.

Berry’s career in comedy came as a complete surprise to him. He grew up in the hamlet of Bromham in Bedfordshire, about two hours north of London, in a wholly unartistic family who had “normal, decent jobs,” he says. “My mom was a nurse, my sister went into law — nothing like what I ended up doing.” Still, his parents were totally supportive — worried, but supportive — as he stumbled through temp gigs and patches of unemployment as a young man.

He was far more interested in painting and music — and, in fact, today is an accomplished musician who’s recorded eight studio albums (prog rock-ish, inflected with funk) as well as the scores and themes to numerous TV series, including Toast. That show’s frequent musical interludes, gonzo song parodies a la Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, speak to Berry’s true comedic beginnings. In between stints at the London Dungeon — a haunted-house experience where actors play figures from gruesome corners of the city’s past, like Jack the Ripper — he managed to book solo gigs as a singer-songwriter. But he found that spiking his performances with humor won over a crowd.

Natasia Demetriou and Berry in What We Do In the Shadows.  Byron Cohen/FX

“I was playing before comedians, and the gigs just seemed to go quicker and better if I put some comedy into the songs or the bits in between the songs,” Berry says. “I only did it so I’d fit in with what was going on after. Then I really got to like it.”

Fellow performers Richard Ayoade and Matthew Holness noticed his act, and cast Berry in a horror/sci-fi spoof they created called Garth Marenghi’s Darkplace. From there, his television career exploded, with recurring roles in several series before his breakout in 2007 with The IT Crowd. Despite a nomination for “best newcomer” at that year’s British Comedy Awards and a 2015 BAFTA for Best Male Performance in a Comedy for Toast, Berry insists he doesn’t have any particular aptitude for the form, and draws a blank when it comes to defining his style. Mostly, he chalks it up to timing (“Whether it’s music or comedy, that’s the most important thing for me”) — as well as a lack of training.

“I’m not held back by any sort of rules and regulations in terms of performance,” he says. “I’ll just do what feels natural, and because nobody’s said in the past, ‘Well you can’t really do that, because of this,’ you just do it. If it works, it works, and if it doesn’t, you just try something else.”

He does acknowledge one foolproof stylistic flourish that may be deeply ingrained: a true relish for the scatological and sophomorically sexual. See: Laszlo’s vulva topiaries, or the preposterously elastic faces Toast makes while he’s shagging Mrs. P (“Hang on — my balls are about to fizzzz!”) or pleasuring himself to old-timey images of women in military uniforms. A key moment in Rabbit involves the inspector having a pocketful of dog poop.

“I suppose that’s the British toilet humorist in me,” Berry admits. “It doesn’t matter where you go in Europe, toilet humor is enjoyed by all. Being from the U.K., it’s in you, like, from birth. You know, if you’re little and people are laughing at something all around you, it kind of sticks. If it’s something that my granddad laughs at and my dad laughs at, there’s a good chance that I’ll laugh at it, too.”

[bbrandy2002]

The Fall of Cordonia

Chapter Three

Trigger Warning: Infant mortality mentioned, suicide, sexual assault and murder.

A/N: Im a little shook from writing this 😬

Word count: 2342

Characters belong to Pixelberry.

Thanks to my girls @burnsoslow and @emceesynonymroll for prereading snippets.

Tagging: @khakie4 @jemrmax2love @princess-geek @rainbowsinthestorm @annekebbphotography @ao719 @texaskitten30 @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @lodberg @romanticatheart-posts @duchessemersynwalker @cordoniansqueen @burnsoslow @kimmiedoo5 @innerpostmentality @sirbeepsalot @emceesynonymroll @janezillow @cordoniantrash @jovialyouthmusic @dcbbw @moonlightgem7 @polishchoicesfan @jessiembruno @lovemychoices @mallorycortez @angi15h @hopefulmoonobject @gardeningourmet

Nikolas had not stopped crying since being placed in Marguerite's arms many hours ago. She sat on the edge of her bed with him, thrusting her nipple into his mouth, attempting to feed and soothe him;  disregarding the fact her supply dried up months ago. Each time he suckled desperately, his tiny mouth released into an erratic fit, fingers balled into tight fists, unsatisfied with his continuing thirst.

Her scent was different, the sound of her voice unfamiliar, and the beating of her heart did not have the same rhythmic tune that usually lulled him to sleep.

The Princess continued her attempts to feed and bring comfort to him, however, the baby refuses her breast. After the night she had, all the crying, Nikolas refusing to bond with her, sleep deprivation, she wasn't sure if her plan would be plausible, if this child would ever accept her as his mother.

She rose from the bed and gently laid him in the bassinet that sat directly next to her, staring at his swollen, bright blue eyes, that were full of rage and fear. Those same eyes were similar in color and form as her own newborn son, except his had been void of any emotion...there were no tears, no blinking, no pain, just stillness.

Her own eyes began to mist as she thought about that day,  privately delivering a stillborn child, two months before her due date. She knew the minute she saw the soft, downey hair of blonde that covered his small head, the father was not a current King, but, rather, a former prince.

Nikolas was the closest thing she now had to keeping her miserable reality a distant memory. Nearly the same blood that coursed through his tiny veins, was the also the one that burned with desire and passion for her almost a year ago. Would Leo ever accept this child as his own? He had been so relunctant to before, but, now, just maybe, if he held their baby in his arms, would she be able to entice him back into her world. Except, this wasn't their sweet baby, she wasn't his mother and Nikolas was making damn sure, without a doubt, she knew it.

Feeling depleted, she plopped back down onto the bed, the sheer volume of his ever continuous crying, driving her to the brink of insanity. She was positive, at that moment, all of Monaco could hear the weeping of the young prince of Cordonia; it was almost a symbolic gesture of his first duty, to share the downfall of his country and to share his displeasure.

Her hands began to shake uncontrollably and an intense pressure started to rise in her chest that caused breathing to become laborious.

She had to silence him somehow and quickly, to end the nightmare of her own enduring agony.

With her first real attempt at being a mother, seemingly failing, she called for her maid servant, unable to take it any longer. She hastily wrapped Nikolas in the blanket he arrived to her in, which bore a tiny phoenix in the corner,  the crest of his mother's house. Marguerite dropped the child in the arms of her servant, at which time, his crying began to subside. She made explicit instructions to rid her of the reminder, that once again, her failure to secure an heir and the man she lusted for, would be in vain.

The servant bowed and shuffled from the room with Nikolas nestled in her arms.

Marguerite turned to face the wall opposite of her, the one that held the sword of generations of Monacan monarchs, her tiny hands releasing it from its mount.

Gripping the pommel, she held it in front of her, and with a deep breath, thrust the blade into her gut and twisted. She fell back onto the bed as pools of hot blood flowed at her sides. The Princess ran a finger down the cool, shiny, silver blade, embracing her pending death and inevitable peace.

******

Liam directed Paul to take the remains of his step mother back her quarters and placed with dignity in her bed. He then ordered the other guard to lay the Countess with her, until proper arrangements could be made, if it ever could at this point.

With Regina and Madeleine's death happening within the walls of the palace, he was wrought with nausea, pondering who else had succumbed to this senseless atrocity. He wanted to believe Bastien's words that it was possible, Riley and Nikolas were safe, yet, the Auvernal army was able to breach the guard and protection of the palace. They had successfully taken out two of the most powerful women in Cordonia, the Queen and Prince was sure to be a bullseye in this sick game of wit and intellegence.

It was exactly one year ago yesterday, when against his better judgement, his new bride was beckoned by Queen Isabella, to visit with her in Auvernal, while they were in Texas. In a rather hostile move, Isabella, without hesitation, put on a troublesome display of the military might of her country, in what could only be construed as intimidation.

In a rather bold move, she tested Riley's ability to literally withstand the heat, a test he wasn't surprised she accomplished flawlessly. Would Liam really be able to outwit his opponent without his queen by his side? If Bradshaw was the man Isabella described him as during that trip, obviously weak and vulnerable, she could potentially be far more dangerous than he was.

When Nikolas was born three months ago, both Riley and Liam agreed their son would not be part of a marriage agreement. They both felt that what they shared and their experiences together, was far more important than any political alliance. A healthy relationship built on love made the monarchy stronger in their opinion.

They both knew the reprecussions of their decision, yet never expected an all out war for it. He presumed the greatest threat to Cordonia would be an embargo on trade with one another and political alliances, that he in turn would render economic sanctions against them. Would he have changed his mind had he known this would be the fate of that conclusion? He didn't know, not yet, it would depend on the personal cost to his family and his people.

Last night, Liam was sure that he had lost everything that truly mattered to him, but, something in his heart gave him a sense of peace. He had always told himself that he didn't exist without Riley, yet, here he was, living, breathing and feeling. Liam could sense her in his soul and he was prepared to move heaven and earth to bring her and their baby home to him.

He sat down at his desk, eagerly awaiting word from the Italian officials, to give him an update on the retaliatory attack. Francesco was already working tirelessly to gather other allies together and provide security and assistance for Cordonia.

Bastien found an unbroken bottle of scotch in the cabinet and poured two tumblers of it, handing one to Liam. They eyed one another, both in understanding of the calamity that would be ensuing, knowing it had to be done.

Bastien raised his glass to the King, gesturing for one last toast, in light of the situation.

Liam swirled the contents of his glass before tapping that of his head guard's.

"To my King and Queen, long may they reign"

Liam nodded in kind to Bastien, then downed the liquid, "To My Queen...".

*******

Leo dropped to his knees, clutching the hole that burned in his stomach, with a mixture of shock and remorse scrolling across his face.

"You were saying?", Bradshaw asked, before Leo fell face first to the floor, his head bouncing from the surface.

Bradshaw casually placed the gun back into the safe, pulled a handkerchief from his suit pocket, and wiped the moisture and soot from the palm of his hand.

He strolled over to Leo, dropped to one knee and lifted his lifeless head up by the back of his hair. "Leo, Leo, Leo....it appears we both have something in common....we never miss our targets". He mused, thinking about Marguerite and her lost baby, that neither he, nor,  Leo wanted anything to do with. He releases Leo's head and it thuds to the ground.

The King's informant ushers into the room with fervor, asking permission to speak about grave information.

"Your Majesty....intelligence from Rome has informed me of an impending attack on our city by the Italian's in retalliation of Cordonia".

"How much time do we have?".

"Just under an hour, sir".

Bradshaw furrowed his brows, preparing to unleash his next plan earlier than anticipated, but, it was, afterall,  his ace in the hole.

Bradshaw leads his guards, dragging a bloodied Leo behind them, leaving a crimson trail out of the dining area. They walk briskly down the corridor and to the room where he is holding Riley hostage. He directs his men to throw her brother in law on the bed next to her.

Riley is barely conscious, she has a few broken bones and extensive bruising throughout her body. She watches groggily as they enter, then lets out a blood curdling scream as she catches sight of Leo's gunshot wound. Its then that she realizes she was a hostage. Recognizing Bradshaw immediately, she makes a concerted effort to move, to run, to fight back, however, the pain is too great.

Bradshaw orders everyone out of the room, his guards, the nurses and servants. He checks the video feed and when he is sure it is ready, he sends a direct link to Liam's email; time was of the essense.

As he waits for Liam to respond, he eyes Riley, admiring her petite frame and curvacous figure, just as he had the day she was first introduced to him at Valtoria. He licks his lips, as lustful thoughts take hold of him and he trails an unwelcome finger down the length of her cheek and across her neck. She was his prisoner, completely dependant on him and he wanted nothing more than to hear his name screaming from her lips.

He leans down, licking her face and across her tightly closed lips, feeling greatly aroused by her whimpers and powerlessness. He runs a hand across her flattened stomach, only covered by the thin white gown the nurse changed her into.

He grabs her cheeks with one hand and squeezes harshly until she can no longer keep her mouth closed; he immediately thrust his unwanted tongue into her own as she tries to pull away. His mouth catches her every groan with the deepest pleasure and he inhales her barely escaped breaths.

"Get the fuck off my wife!", an irate and panicked Liam yells as Bradshaw pauses his assualt.

He looks behind him at the laptop, set up for this particular moment, seeing the ire and disgust on Liam's face. Bradshaw curls his lips into an evil grin, this was more satisfying than he had anticipated.

"Riley! Love...can you hear me...I'm right hear...I'm right here", his voice cracking with relief at her survival.

Bradshaw lets out a small laugh, "And she is right here.....I assume you will be calling off your minions....or is it boom boom for...your love".

"Liam....I love you", Riley forces the words out of her lips with a horrendous sob.

"Sweetheart, oh god, I love you too....is Nikolas with you, is he alright?".

Bradshaw interrupted, rolling his eyes, "Oh please, spare me of the sickening declarations of love.....are you calling off the Italians or what Liam?".

Liam motioned for Bastien, giving him directions to contact the Prime Minister at once to halt their sssault immediately.

"What do you want Bradshaw?", he asked, while Bastien made his call.

"You know what I want."

"A political alliance and a marriage contract between our children...do I still have a child, Your Majesty?".

"You do....not that you'll benefit much from him".

Liam let out a shaky breath, closing his, thanking God for the knowledge that his son and wife were still living.

"I'll ask again, what do you want then?

"Surrender Cordonia to me".

"No Liam, don't!", Riley yelled out, before Bradshaw turned, smacking her harshly in the face.

"DAMN IT BRADSHAW!". Liam screamed in anger and frustration, feeling completely helpless.

"I give you your wife back, tell you where your son is, and all you have to do is surrender your reign and country to me".

There was no question what Liam's answer would be, however, it wasn't that simple, "I can't...not without consent from the council....this isn't something I can control alone and I presume half the fucking council is dead".

Bradshaw shrugged his shoulders and pursed his lips, "Then I have no choice but to force your hand further".

"What do you mean?", Liam asked, knowing he did not want to know the answer to his question.

Bradshaw, still positioned next to Riley, reached over, gracing one of his hands up her thigh and the other cupping her breast over her gown. Riley began to cry out, begging him to stop.

Liam stood from his desk, watching the exchange, "I'LL DO IT....I'LL DO IT.....JUST LET HER GO!!!".

Bradshaw ignored Liam and Riley's cries, immensly gratified by his complete control over them...he was the puppetmaster.

Liam had both hands clutching his hair, tears streaming down his face, his whole body shaking, "You fucking peckerhead, so help me, I'm going to rip your throat out".

Bradshaw tugged on Riley's panties and he groped himself through his pants, slowly pulling down his zipper.

With Liam still screaming in the background, Riley turned her head, unable to look at her husband as Bradshaw prepared to defile her.

She stared at Leo, whose head was only a few inches from hers, his eyes starting to flicker open. She let out a fearful gasp, as her legs started to slowly part and Leo could see the trouble in her brown eyes.

Inhaling deeply against the pain he was wracked with, he bolted up, grabbing Bradshaw around the neck with such force, the King thought it would pop off his shoulders.

Bradshaw hit Leo in his wound, while trying to tear the powerful grip he had around his neck.

Leo took his other hand, placing it on the jaw of the man before him, and twisted as hard as he could., until he got the desired snap he wanted.

[msjr0119]

Hold my girl

Part 6- My girl

No one really knows about TRR Main characters past …. Most of this series is based on flashbacks from her childhood. I’ve changed the main characters name to, Freya Johnson as Riley Brooks is used in my other series.

Freya is in love with Drake, but he hasn’t returned the feelings- instead just acts horrible towards her. Will Freya return back to Cordonia with the court or will she stay in the USA after the UN party.

Tags:

@annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @whenyourheartskipsabeat @jovialyouthmusic @nz1091 @yukinagato2012 @indiacater @seriouslybadchoices @rainbowsinthestorm @cordonianroyalty @custaroonie @beardedoafdonutwagon @dcbbw @qammh-blog

*****

Daniel remembers back to the last time he did something behind Freya’s back. She was so sweet but a psycho when mad. Last time he interfered in her love life she didn’t talk to him for a week, but last time he did punch her cheating boyfriend. This time, he was trying to help Freya’s life by guiding her friends to understand the secret she had kept from them.

“Good job I brought my daggers with me! Why on earth are we at a grave yard? I could be sipping champagne now!” Olivia snapped at Daniel, his eyes widened at her attitude- she scared the shit out of him already.

“Right, erm. Please don’t hurt me Miss Olivia. There’s two ‘people’ I’d like you all to meet.” The gang looked at each, confusion written all over each of their faces. Daniel continued.

“This is Grace and Paul. They were sadly taken away from us eight years ago. Myself and Freya used to come here all the time- but especially on one date. On that date, Freya would write a diary and explain everything that they are missing... myself and Freya came here earlier on before she stood you all up...” As Daniel continued speaking, Liam and Drake bent down and looked at the grave closely.

“Grace and Paul Johnson.” Drake turned to Liam as he said it.

“Her parents..” They both said in unison- as they looked concerned, they stood back up and continued to listen to Daniel.

“... anyway, she finally came here and updated her diary. I can’t believe what all of you have been through- it’s like you’re all staring in reality tv.” Daniel jokingly said to them all. The were like Aliens - not understanding exactly what reality tv was.

Daniel pointed to the diary and read it out to them all. Afterwards he pointed over to each of the photos.

“I hope y’all don’t mind but she put some pictures of her journey with you all and wrote something about each of you. Maybe if you all read them she... she cares for you all. And trust me, she is stubborn so for her to care about so many people is amazing.”

They each picked up their picture with the note attached, they read it out loud to the other friends. Liam began..

You remember when I told you fairytales are silly and only happen in films? Well, little Freya just the waitress actually stared in ‘one of those films’. I met a Prince at our bar one night- the night that I could have killed Dan for leaving me in the shit. His name is Liam. Crown Prince- now King Of Cordonia. For some reason he and three of his friends stumbled into our bar. If you ask me they really chose the shittest place in New York to come for food and drinks.

As the evening went on, I could see Liam’s eyes locked on me. This was kind of intimidating. Why would a stranger keep looking over? I was really ready to kill Daniel now. After closing time, I went out with them all and we had some kind of connection. He was so lovely, charming and someone who would make a great friend. I thought I’d never see him again. When I entered his social season, I instantly fell in love with his personality. He is now classed as my friend. Little Freya having royalty as friends- you was correct to believe in fairytales mom.

This morning, Liam asked me out to breakfast. I didn’t think anything of it so agreed. Instead he took me for a walk near to the Statue of Liberty- we sat on a bench it was full circle, where I had taken him that first night. Liam is a kind man and I know he will find the most perfect Queen, he told me he would have proposed to me. If he had physically asked those four words, I couldn’t say yes. I opened up to him about everything - explaining that I couldn’t return to his country. Suddenly by my surprise, he understood my reasoning - I think and surprised me again by explaining that he was going to offer for me to become a duchess. He has so much faith in me, if I didn’t get my new job I’d have possibly been contemplating this role. He is a young king with a great future ahead of him- I am grateful to have him as a close friend.

Hana. What can I say about Hana. She is absolutely amazing at everything she does. I’m kind of jealous of all the talents she has. Anyone would be lucky to have her, I am privileged to call her my best friend. She is the most kind hearted woman I have ever met, even behind all that shyness. Apart from Maxwell, she was the first friend I made in Cordonia- I actually walked into the boutique and embarrassed her as she was stood in only her underwear. Since then, we keep laughing about the awkwardness on our first meeting. When I returned to Cordonia, she also returned- together we make the A team. We are so different, I tell people the truth about what I think- I defend myself. Where as Hana will play things down to not hurt anyone’s feelings. She has a heart of gold, but damn this girl needs to stop with the low esteem- she is amazing! And I am honoured to call her my best friend.

Maxwell. This man. If I could choose anyone to be my brother, it would be Maxi. His personality is so hyperactive, where does he get this energy from? He’s not a typical Lord- he’s the fun one! I’d need to sup a hundred black coffees before I caught up to him. This man is the reason for my adventure beginning in Cordonia and Europe- if not I’d still be stuck at that shitty bar. Thank you Maxwell. He’s known as the spare heir, thank goodness- I don’t know how he’d cope being head of Beaumont- it would be a disaster due to him enjoying having too much fun. Or maybe that is what a Duke should be like? Maybe his brother is just too uptight? Maxwell is the most sweetest and kindest person I have ever met. He always thinks positive! The way any person should think- he’s a role model to us all with that. Dad you’d have loved Maxwell, he could have shown you how to ‘not dad dance’. Dancing is Max’s forte- but I also taught him how to slut drop- sorry not sorry. Thank you for everything Maxi.

The Scarlett Duchess, Olivia. My god I hated her at first, I’m sure the feeling was mutual if not more. She tried to sabotage my image at court and embarrass me. She is in love with Liam, I honestly think behind all of those layers and daggers- yes I mean real daggers- she would make the best queen for Liam and Cordonia. As our time together has gone by, I have began to love her, she’s sweet but a psycho. And I will continue to try and knock those walls down. Even if Olivia doesn’t want to admit it with her sharp tongue, she is the best friend who will help come through any shit storm with all her determination. I’m a hugger, I’m a lover, she will always refuse to hug back- but one of these days I will get her to do it. Even if she won’t admit it we are FRIENNNDDDSS.

Drake Walker. Known as Liam’s shadow. But there is so much more to this man. When I first met him, he was so laid back, cocky and handsome. Drake has had a hard time, he lost his father like I lost you both. I feel this is one of the connections that draw us close together and the fact that he isn’t noble but also half American. Fate I’d say. Shame he doesn’t feel the same towards me. This man is the most loyal man I’ve met, but such a cynical bastard and a total jerk to me. Like Olivia he has built walls around him and I was determined to knock each and every one down but failed. When I’m around him I feel vulnerable and my heart flutters- he doesn’t know this. I first started to fall for him at Olivia’s duchy, when I followed him out in the snow after defending him- don’t worry I was wrapped up. Drake has always had my back through the shit even if it did take him ages to open up to me. He rescued me when one of the nobles was so close to raping me, that was the first time that he seemed sincere towards me and not a cocky bastard. At that moment I’d fallen hard for him. My feelings towards Drake are uncontrollable- never wanting to leave his side even if he insists that he gets ‘lumbered’ with me. I need to follow my head rather than my heart, I never thought I’d find love until I met Drake. Without him in my life I need to keep occupied. He will always be my jerk best friend.

After Drake finished reading his note, he was shell shocked, her honesty was exactly what he felt towards her. Guilt panged in his heart after making eye contact with Liam. Loyal as he was, he would have never told Liam about his true feelings- the only person that knew was Maxwell. They had been best friends since a young age, he didn’t want a girl to cause friction between them no matter how much they both loved her.

“Li. I- I.. I’m so sorry.”

The friends all looked concerned. Daniel suddenly regretted bringing them here now. He didn’t realise they would read their notes out to each other- just assumed they would read it between themselves and keep quiet. This was one of the worse decisions he had made in his life, he thought.

“Drake.. I- I don’t know what to say. Did you know she felt that way? Do you feel the same?”

“You’re my best friend Li. I knew she had some feelings, she called me her ‘hot date’... I can’t help how I feel about her. I didn’t want to let her know how I feel- I was assuming she would choose you. I text her how I felt, and she never mentioned about it- she must have blocked me or deleted it without reading it. You out of everyone should know how she makes people feel. Shit! I’m so sorry.”

“Would you have told me? If we didn’t find out this way? What if I did propose and she had accepted?”

“Li, I don’t honestly know? I’d have probably left for Texas or to stay with Sav.”

“Drake, this morning I was going to ask her, but I thought I’d mention it first- she remained silent so I knew she didn’t want it, the colour from her face drained. But I understand that people have to follow their hearts. Now it all makes sense, I asked you to keep an eye on her during my social season. I want her in my life. Even if that is as a friend. I love her. I always will do. You’ve never been good with feelings regarding relationships have you?”

“I guess not.”

“Drake Walker, you need to look after her. It’s up to you to convince her to return with us. Don’t ever give up on her, promise?” Liam went to pat drake on the shoulder. Then whispered in his ear, “You have my blessing.”

***************

A moment later, everyone’s phones started buzzing.

Hey guys, sorry I stood you all up. Being back in New York has made me feel sentimental. I hope you all understand that I needed a few hours to myself. I’m safe. Don’t worry about me. I will meet you all at the hotel later on. Freya x

All her friends check their phones and were all relieved that she was fine. They all begin to head back saying bye and thank you to Daniel. Just then Daniel handed an envelope to one of them discreetly. Inside the envelope there was a note

Meet me on your own. I need to talk to you. Daniel will drop you off at the location. Freya x

“Er, I’m just going to walk Daniel back to his car. I’ll see you at the hotel.” They all nodded in unison, as they waved goodbye.

*****

Freya was waiting at the beach taking in the beautiful sight and the cool air swaying her long brown curls. Unaware that her friends stormed into her old bar and gave Daniel abuse about her whereabouts- she felt relaxed.

She kept thinking about her parents, it was so hard being back in New York. All the memories, then thoughts about that person she needed to confide in.

Will that person even come? How am I going to say what I need to say? Should I tell the truth about my past? I know all about everyones past. Why am I so confused about what to do and say?

Daniel arrived at the beach with the one person that Freya wanted to see. Parking up the car, she wanted to talk to them on her own without everyone there and she trusted Daniel to get that person there. The awkward silence was then broken.

“This is where we came that night of the bachelor party.”

Smiling thinking back at the memory of how beautiful she looked when she joined the four men after the bar closed. The green dress made all their eyes go wide.

“Does she know? That we all know about the diary and her parents?” Daniel looked over towards Freya, feeling guilty. Suddenly it dawned on him, wondering how she would react.

“She wanted me to find you after my shift to tell you to come here. I don’t think she expected for you all the storm into the bar looking for her. I.. I shouldn’t have taken you all there and Frey is probably going to kill me. But she poured her feelings out through words and eventually she would have told you all. I’m sure.”

“I feel like such a jerk. As we all do. We all spoke about our lives to her. Opening up about our pasts. And not one of us asked about hers. She just listened to all of us and gave us support and advise. And...”

Daniel smiles. “That’s just it. That’s what Freya is like. She’s been through so much. But she understands that there is someone out there who’s worse off than she is. That’s what makes her the best friend anyone could ask for and a selfless human being.”

They both look at her. She looked beautiful sat on the cliff, watching the waves crash against the soft sand.

“Go and get your girl. She’s waiting. Convince her to not move away.” Daniel said encouragingly- hoping he would follow his advise.

Please just go and get her. You belong together! Don’t waste anymore time.

“I don’t know what to say to her?”

“Be spontaneous. She loves you. She doesn’t need to physically tell anyone- you can see it in her eyes when your name is mentioned. In fact she told you all, in your note where her heart lies. But she is so stubborn to make the first move. I’m going to leave you together. If you need me to pick you up just drop a text.”

“Thanks Daniel. You’re a great friend to Freya and she is lucky to have you.” Daniels pats him on the shoulder and walks back to the car leaving him alone.

Get a grip man! She loves you. You love her. How did I get this lucky to find someone who loves me for who I am? This never happens to someone like me.

He slowly walks towards the cliff to where Freya is sat. Hearing a car drive off, she turned around and saw him in the distance.

“Drake?”

Drake suddenly began running towards her, Freya ran towards him. When they got within arms reach, Drake picked her up and spun her around. His eyes never leaving hers. When he lowered her down, his hand brushed through her hair. Cupping her cheeks he was desperate to kiss her, but prevented it. He didn’t want to hurt her again.

“Hey!” Freya said as she smiled relieved that Daniel had brought him to her.

“ είσαι όμορφη αγάπη μου! I’ve missed you!”

What language is that? He sounds so sexy. He could have said anything. Shit this is frustrating what did he say?

“You’ve missed me? I’ve missed you too Walker. I’m sorry I didn’t meet you all. I just needed to clear my mind. I need to talk to you.”

“Please let me talk first?”

“Sure.”

“Jono, Freya. I was such a jerk when we first met. I just didn’t want to you know how I felt about you. You were Liam’s suitor. I didn’t want to let my feelings get hurt. Yeah, yeah I’m a total marshmallow before you say it.”

“I wasn’t- well maybe?” She laughed. Her gaze never left his eyes.

“Anyway... I just wanted to say... Σε αγαπώ.” Drake could see confusion written across Freya’s face, before beginning to laugh.

Freya and Hana excel in everything they do. That is probably why they are best friends. But I bet neither can speak Greek- she has no clue what I’m saying, according to her face expression. In fact it wouldn’t surprise me if Hana was fluent in Greek too. This is cruel Walker. Just tell her you love her.

“I love you Freya Johnson. I started falling for you at Lythikos too. I realised I’d fallen in love with you when I thought I’d lost you after you was dragged out of the Coronation ball.”

Lythikos too? How does he know? Daniel!

Come on Freya, I feel like a dickhead if you don’t say anything back. Have I said too much? Shit.

“I love you too Drake. I always have and I always will but....”

“Please don’t stay here. Come back with us. I know I’ve been a jerk. I know I always said I got ‘lumbered’ with you but deep down I was glad. I sent you a text I don’t think you received it. I confessed everything after I hurt your arm. Is it okay?”

“Yeah it’s fine. I got it. I just didn’t read it fully.” Feeling guilty, she retrieved her phone out of her pocket and read it eventually. Her eyes widened at his honestly, before she began to cry. “I’m sorry I didn’t read it, I was tired. I was getting ready for the wedding shower. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know? I honestly don’t know. I know I have a funny way of showing it but I do care about you- a lot. I’m sorry for all the hurt I caused you. I've been waiting for you, to come around and tell me the truth, ‘bout everything that you're going through, my girl you've got nothing to lose.”

“You’re an arsehole, you know that? Maybe I’d have told you the truth before, if you was nice to me.” Playfully nudging him, she smiled properly for the first time in a while- Drake noticed this too.

“I can be an ass. I can also be loving. Freya, if you’ll have me I’m yours.” Holding her hands, he hoped he wasn’t too late and she would stay with them all.

“You want me? As in us become a couple?” Looking into his eyes, she needed reassurance- she had never seen Drake look this vulnerable before. Cupping her cheeks, his thumb brushed over them, she inhaled his scent. Her heart began to flutter uncontrollably. Shit Vegas.

“I do.” Standing on her tiptoes, she desperately wanted to kiss the man she had been fantasying over ever since meeting him. Placing her arms around his neck, she pulled him down to her level. Their lips almost touching- Drake decided to take the risk and finally kiss the girl he had hidden his feelings about.

“Can I hold my girl?”

[reclaimedwings-blog]

when do we start?

BASICS. Given / Birth Name : Samuel Thomas Wilson . Nickname / Preferred Name : Sam . Alias(es) : Falcon . Birthdate / Age : January 2nd, 1978 / 40 . Place of Birth : New York City, NY / Harlem . Current Location : CLASSIFIED . Gender Identity : Cismale . Sexual / Romantic Orientation : Biromantic bisexual . Ethnicity / Race / Cultural Heritage: African-American . Marital Status : Single . Occupation : Ex-Avenger . Religious Beliefs : Christian (former), unsure (current) .

CHARACTERISTICS. Height : 6’ . Weight : 186 lbs . Body Type / Build : During his younger years, Sam didn’t exactly look the Falcon part. He was scrawny for someone at his growing height, but with time - he grew. Once the height fleshed out, bulking up from then on got easy. Life in the air force certainly helped pushed his growth along, but his time as Falcon the first flight around solidified that the bigger - maybe the better. He’s still debating on whether the weight’s doing him any good or not, but if the bad guys aren’t getting up after they get hit once by him… there’s not much to debate about. There’s a lot of muscle and body to mess around, but the kind soul buried beneath the heavier exterior makes up for it  . Eye Color : Brown . Hair Color / Texture : Black, often cut too short to notice any discernible pattern . Recognizable Features / Scars :           - large scar shaped in the form of the base of his wings, with some bits of it spanning out where the wings start at its center. Riley used to call them “angel wings”. Sam just thinks it’s annoying when it itches .

          - plethora of scars here and there across his body in less noticeable shapes, mostly from injuries during his tours.

          - has a scar across the back of his left thigh from when he was trying to find Riley post-crash and one of Ry’s damaged wings got him.

Speech Patterns / Accent : Sam is a pretty straightforward, no-bullshit guy. He tells it like it is, even if telling it like it is isn’t always for the best. He otherwise has a bit of an accent (what New Yorker doesn’t) and can sometimes slip into more comfortable speaking patterns once the snark and wit hits . Languages Spoken : English, Spanish and French . Powers / Skills / Abilities : Without his wings, most people assume he’s your regular civilian. What most people don’t know, save for a very small few, is that he can speak to + understand birds. They communicate with him as well as he does with other people, but he doesn’t tell people that information without knowing they have his complete trust . Overall Health : He’s as healthy as a horse, if a horse could fly that’d be even better. He does his best to keep in shape despite his trauma / history and it’s highlighted best when he fits meet Steve. After everything he’s been through, life goes on. Either you keep with it like the rest of the best and stay in top shape or you hear “on your left” a million times to remember that you’re only human; we’ve all got limits .

RELATIONSHIPS. Order of Birth : Youngest sibling of 3 . Number of Siblings : 2 . Father’s Status + Relationship : Paul Wilson (deceased): having been a minister, most would expect the hypocrisy that often comes with the church and its goers when it comes to them raising their children via the harsh expectations of other. But Paul Wilson was above that, and loved his kids with an open mind and heart. Paul brought out the best in Sam through the mind, and Sam still reflects some of his kind, but reckless, behavior via his own actions. The apple near falls too far from the tree . Mother’s Status + Relationship : Darlene Wilson (deceased): much like his father, Sam’s mother was just as accepting of other mindsets as his father. The two of them helped raise and bring up a happy, loving family in a warm home despite their lesser fortunes. She was the first person Sam expressed his sexuality too, as he had with his father when he expressed doubts over his religion, and she loved him all the same. When she died, Sam joined the military to combat the overwhelming anger he was once again consumed by. His parents did the best they could and Sam lives by their teachings in hopes of inspiring others to have the same kindness . Sibling Status + Relationship : Sarah (older sister) + Gideon (older brother) Wilson (both living): growing up, Sam was extremely close to his siblings. Being the youngest had its perks, even with the sibling bullying that often came and went like the seasons. After their father’s passing, things slowly started to change between them - a growing distance, but they tried their best to make it work. After their mother, however, Sam ran away the only way he knew how. He often wrote to them, which resulted in equally lengthy responses, but when he became an Avenger - he purposely brought the distance back between them. He still calls them once or twice a month and writes when he can, but he otherwise keeps them at bay to keep them away from the craziness of the world he’s been exposed to . Loyalty / Affiliation : Captain America (current), Avengers (former) .

PERSONALITY. MBTI : ESFJ-A. Hobbies : Running, writing about his feelings since discussing them is a harder choice, talking to birds in open spaces like a disney princess, making breakfast, eating new foods (especially in the local best-voted diner in small towns), etc . Bad Habits : Smoked once or twice but didn’t want to risk coughing up a lung after, cursing (occasionally), laughing too loud at his own jokes, etc . Three Positive Traits : Loyal, empathetic and adaptable . Three Negative Traits : Dependent, sarcastic and incautious . Moral Alignment : Lawful Good .

ASSOCIATIONS. One Song : Kiss The Sky by Shawn Lee’s Ping Pong Orchestra . One Quote / Piece of Art : “It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.” - The Little Prince . One Fear : Losing Steve — falling. One Strength : His friendships . One Object : His wings . One Place : The Washington Monument . One Food : Eggs—err, maybe pasta . One Scent : Wood . One Lucky Charm : His iPod .

[brokehorrorfan]

Best New Horror Movies on Netflix: Spring 2018

There’s an overwhelming amount of horror movies to sift through on Netflix, so I’ve decided to take out some of the legwork by compiling a list of the season’s best new genre titles available on Netflix’s instant streaming service.

Please feel free to leave a comment with any I may have missed and share your thoughts on any of the films you watch. You can also peruse past installments of Best New Horror Moves on Netflix for more suggestions.

1. The Ritual

The Ritual is the great Blair Witch Project sequel we never got. Although not found footage, it explores many similar plot points as the recent Blair Witch - yet it feels far more fresh and, more importantly, scarier. The first two acts are superbly eerie, and, while it loses a tiny bit of momentum toward the end, it offers a truly imaginative creature design. After memorable segments in several anthologies, David Bruckner's (V/H/S, The Signal) feature directorial debut offers a small but strong cast led by Rafe Spall (Prometheus), well-developed characters, a creative use of flashbacks, and a brilliant atmosphere of dread.

2. Veronica

Veronica's reputation precedes it, as it has been the subject of several high-profile articles touting it as the scariest movie on Netflix. I'm not sure it lives up to that claim, but it's certainly worth seeing for yourself. Based on true events, the film takes place in 1991 Madrid. When 15-year-old Veronica (Sandra Escacena) attempts to contact her deceased father with a Ouija board alongside two fellow Catholic schoolgirls, she becomes haunted by something from the other side. Escacena - an actual teenager - delivers a great performance, and director Paco Plaza ([Rec]) channels James Wan in his expert crafting of frightening set pieces.

3. Before I Wake

Nearly three years after it was supposed to open in theaters, Before I Wake was rescued from rights issues by Netflix. Director Mike Flanagan (Ouija: Origin of Evil, Gerald's Game) has since cemented himself as a modern master of horror, and Before I Wake is another winner. Kate Bosworth (Superman Returns) and Thomas Jane (The Mist) star as a couple who, still grieving the death of their young son, adopt a 6-year-old boy, Cody (a then-unknown Jacob Tremblay, Room). Upon learning that Cody's dreams manifests themselves in reality, the parents encourage him to dream about their deceased son in order to spend more time with him. Unfortunately for everyone, Cody also suffers from nightmares about a creature he calls The Canker Man. It's a bit heavy on exposition, but the film has ample heart and strong visuals. Similar to the work of Guillermo del Toro, Before I Wake blends horror motifs with fantastical and dark dramatic elements.

4. 47 Meters Down

Originally scheduled to go straight-to-DVD in 2016, 47 Meters Down was given a theatrical release last summer, which proved to be an unlikely success. Mandy Moore (This Is Us) and Claire Holt (The Vampire Diaries) star in the underwater thriller as sisters whose shark diving expedition goes wrong. Trapped on the ocean floor, the girls' air supplies are quickly depleting while a swam of great white sharks circles the area. There are a few unfortunate jump scares, and suspension of disbelief is certainly required, but director Johannes Roberts (The Other Side of the Door) takes a mostly grounded, serious approach, crafting a bit of old-fashioned suspense at a brisk pace. Read my full review of the film here.

5. Mute

Mute is a sci-fi mystery, not a horror movie - although it does have a brutal kill at its climax. Aesthetically, the film is total Blade Runner worship - perhaps even more so than Blade Runner 2049 - so it is gorgeous to look at. Set in the near future, the plot finds a mute bartender (Alexander Skarsgård, True Blood) searching the seedy underbelly of Berlin for his missing girlfriend. But it's the B-story - in which Paul Rudd (Ant-Man) and Justin Theroux (The Girl on the Train) play a pair of wise-cracking black market surgeons - that steals the show. Director Duncan Jones (Moon, Source Code), who co-wrote the script with Michael Robert Johnson (Sherlock Holmes), also throws in a fun nod to Moon that sets Mute in the same universe.

6. Nails

Nails occasionally feels like a lesser Insidious movie (particularly Chapter 3, since both involve injured female antagonists), but it'll hit that sweet spot when you're browsing Netflix for something short (only 85 minutes!) and creepy in the middle of the night. After a nasty hit and run, Dana (Shauna Macdonald, The Descent) is left confined to a hospital bed, barely able to speak or move. She believes someone is in the room with her at night; at first, she feels a presence watching her, and then it starts touching. Her family and doctors dismiss her claims as hallucinations from painkillers. It suffers from a bit too much exposition, but there are some strong horror set pieces. The Irish film earns bonus points for being almost entirely contained to the hospital bed without getting stale.

7. Ravenous

Ravenous (also known as Les Affamés) is yet another post-apocalyptic zombie thriller in the vein of The Walking Dead, but it's better than many of its contemporaries. The Canadian production is in French, but it addresses universal themes in its exploration of human drama. In the film, various rogue survivors band together to strengthen their chances of survival among the hordes of infected. Along the way, it introduces a mysterious ritual of sorts that the zombies perform, though it's never fully paid off. Nevertheless, this one is worth a watch if you’re a fan of recent zombie dramas like Maggie, The Cured, Here Alone, and What We Become.

8. Bad Match

The first act of Bad Match resembles a sophomoric “bro” comedy, but it's worth sitting through to watch it blossom into its final form: Fatal Attraction for the digital age. Jack Cutmore-Scott (Deception) stars as Harris, a 20-something tech worker with a tendency to hook up with women from a Tinder-like dating app and then never speak to them again. He finally meets a woman he really likes, Riley (Lili Simmons, Bone Tomahawk), only to have her become deeply obsessed with him. The supporting cast includes Noureen DeWulf (Anger Management), Chase Williamson (Beyond the Gates), Brandon Scott (Channel Zero), and Trent Haaga (Citizen Toxie: The Toxic Avenger IV).

9. Godzilla: Planet of the Monsters

I'm surprised it has taken this long for Toho to make a Godzilla anime, as both are staples of Japan, and the medium eliminates any limitations caused by having an actor in the rubber suit. Godzilla: Planet of the Monsters is the first installment in a planned anime trilogy. Like many Godzilla films, it spends a tedious amount of time with character exposition before the creatures are introduced. The film is set in 2048, after giant monster attacks have caused the earth to collapse. Humans search space for an inhabitable planet before returning to earth; nearly halfway through the movie, they finally land and start fighting the kaiju. It's an impressive sight when Godzilla finally shows up, as it’s the biggest version of the king of the monsters ever put on screen. With all of the set up out of the way, Planet of the Monsters sets the stage for the next two installments to be even better.

Bonus: The End of the F***ing World

The End of the F***ing World is a British series released in the US as a Netflix original. 17-year-old James (Alex Lawther, Black Mirror) is fairly certain he's a serial killer, but when his would-be first victim, the moody Alyssa (Jessica Barden, The Lobster), invites him to runaway with him, the unstable couple fall for one another. Like Natural Born Killers meets Moonrise Kingdom, their time on the road includes absurd crime, unlikely death, young love, and pitch-black humor. With an engaging story spread out across eight 20-minute episodes, it's virtually impossible not to binge through the entire season in one sitting.

Bonus: Haunters: The Art of the Scare

Haunters: The Art of the Scare is ostensibly a documentary about homemade haunted houses, similar to The American Scream. It profiles a few mom-and-pop haunts, illustrating the communal aspect as well as the strain it can have on personal relationships. But the bulk of the film is dedicated to McKamey Manor, a nonprofit "extreme haunt" run out of certifiably insane guy's house in San Diego. There's a waiting list of thousands of people who are more than willing to be debased on camera for all the internet to see. Deplorable as it may be, it's a fascinating subject that, frankly, should have been the sole subject of the documentary.

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The Seven Sisters Review- Book One

Book 1 of the Seven Sisters Series Author: Lucinda Riley Publication date: 2014 Genre: Historical Fiction, Romance A/N: Having read the six of the seven books in the series, I can say that the books in this series can work as stand-alones as they all give the necessary bit of introduction that you need at the beginning. That being said, I would still recommend starting at the beginning [The Seven Sisters] if you think you're going to want to read the whole series; and there are some threads that weave through all books. I accidentally had bought the third book first when I didn’t know it was a series, but when I found out, I decided to get the books before that and began reading. I defiantly have more understanding of the sisters and the other characters from reading this book before the others.

Good Reads Rating: 4.8/5 Personal Rating: 4/5

Synopsis: Maia D'Apliése and her five sisters gather together at their childhood home, 'Atlantis' - a fabulous, secluded castle situated on the shores of Lake Geneva - having been told that their beloved father, the elusive billionaire they call Pa Salt, has died. Maia and her sisters were all adopted by him as babies and, discovering he has already been buried at sea, each of them is handed a tantalising clue to their true heritage - a clue which takes Maia across the world to a crumbling mansion in Rio de Janeiro in Brazil. Once there, she begins to put together the pieces of where her story began . . . Eighty years earlier, in the Belle Epoque of Rio, 1927, Izabela Bonifacio's father has aspirations for his daughter to marry into aristocracy. Meanwhile, architect Heitor da Silva Costa is working on a statue, to be called Christ the Redeemer, and will soon travel to Paris to find the right sculptor to complete his vision. Izabela - passionate and longing to see the world - convinces her father to allow her to accompany him and his family to Europe before she is married. There, at Paul Landowski's studio and in the heady, vibrant cafés of Montparnasse, she meets ambitious young sculptor Laurent Brouilly, and knows at once that her life will never be the same again.

~~

The Seven Sisters is a 7 book series, of which, in the time that I’m writing this, only 6 books are published- the 7th book coming out some time in 2021. 

Each of the 6 books in the series has been focused around one of the 6 sisters- one book for one sister, starting from oldest to youngest- all adopted by a mysterious billionaire they all call ‘Pa Salt’ mainly for his love of the ocean and how he always smells of sea salt.

Pa Salt had adopted the sisters over the period of several years from different countries, naming all of them from the 7 sisters of the Pleiades- known as the Seven Sisters in Mythology. There’s Maia, Ally(Alcyone), Star(Asterope), CeCe(Celaeno), Tiggy(Taygete), Electra, and Merope.

Even though there are 7 stars in the constellation, Pa Salt had only managed to find only six, Merope being the 7th sister that he was never able to find[One of the many mystery in this series that I hope to find out about in the 7th book that has been titled ‘The Missing Sister’]

When the sisters are all grown up, their father, Pa Salt, dies suddenly, and each of them come back to their secluded island in Switzerland that they all named ‘Atlantis’ and reunite. Here they each receive a letter from their departed father, along with a quote coordinates to give them a clue to their origins should they wish to discover them. 

Aside from what the title suggests, this first book of the series is not the story of the Seven Sisters as a whole, but just one, the eldest, Maia.

Maia is known as the ‘beautiful’ one out of the six sister, her profession being an interpreter who translates books for authors. 

I assume she is the only one out of the six daughter that had remained at Atlantis as an adult because of her work, having her own little house next to her family mansion home on the island where she mostly lives in isolation. Though she conveniently happens to be visiting a friend in England when Pa Salt dies. There is mystery not only surrounding her adoptive father’s life, but also his death. He instructed that he was to be buried at sea, before any of his daughters were informed of his death. So when all the sisters return home it is to find that their father is already gone and the burial has taken place without them.

Even though she is the most cautious and studious of the six, roused from a call from someone from teenage years she is not yet ready to face, she leaves her little home and is the first to investigate her past and where she came from.

The clues offered to her about her past from her father’s letter and coordinates all past point to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, and Portuguese just so happens to be one of the two languages Maia speaks fluently.

In Rio, she meets up with a Brazilian author whose book she had translated, who also happens to be an historian, Floriano Quintelas. Floriano’s curiosity into the mystery of Maia’s past, allows him to join Maia’s adventure to uncovering her ancestry.

The coordinates from Pa Salt first lead them to a dilapidated old mansion, that houses a very old woman and her maid.

Through a series of old letters and stories handed down through generations, given by the maid, Maia starts to uncover her past, through the story of her great grandmother, Isabel “Bell” Bonifacio who was born in Rio.

As an engagement present from her fiance, Gustavo, Isabel was sent to Paris with her friend to experience the world and learn more about art. Isabel’s POV is set partially in Rio and partially in Paris during the 1920′s and 30′s as the story centres around the construction of Christ the Redeemer.

While reading, I became really invested in the Isabel's story which is set in the past. It jumps back to the present with Maia and vice versa(this becomes a common theme in all the books in the series so far), but not in an annoying way. It kept me engaged and urged me to continue reading.

I don’t want to spoil too much, and if I did there would too much to write about!

This story has so many intricate and well thought out layers fulled with compassion and depth, but enough is left for us to judge from our perspective. The characters are well-crafted and brilliant. 

From the first chapter of the book, Lucinda gave me a character sketch/story board of all the six sisters along with their nurse and their father to understand about their behaviour briefly. And in Isabel's story, we can feel each and every character, like from the moment Isabel described her would-be husband, Gustavo in her words, and then her french lover Laurent. I can almost picture while reading how they communicated and acted around her.

This story is a beautiful back-story that is connected with the history of Brazil. Lucinda has unfolded and lay-out the stories of Maia and Isabel strikingly and consecutively, with Isabel's story breaking at such vital points that it burnt me yet made my heart bleed.

Reading this has simply made me feel as if Lucinda has poured all her emotions into her words. And it defiantly shows that she had done a astounding amount of research with this book, since this is a historical fiction.

Not only did she live for a month in Rio, next door to the granddaughter of the architect of Christ the Redeemer and read his personal letters and journals, she also did research into both Paris and Rio in the time she was writing about and the historical characters involved. There’s a bibliography in the back of the book with all her sources. [Some of the characters in the book are drawn from the history books, but the stories going in and around their lives are all fictional!]

Sadly, while finishing the book, I forgot this was a fictional story, and I'm still in belief with the story of Isabel and Christ the Redeemer's statue is true, since Lucinda makes her story so very convincing enough to fall for the trap.

I'd describe this book as a true masterpiece that not only took me back in time but also took me the amazing lands of Brazil and Paris.

Although I though the conversations and dialouge between the characters where a bit messy and patchy, the emotional pull in this book is very strong, one of the reasons being that the story is told from Maia’s and Isabel’s POV, who both happens to be deeply emotional human beings and strong female figures. This is a solid work of historical fiction with some travelogue and romance thrown in the mix. It’s an adventure, a journey of discovery, and a book to lose yourself in. Well worth your time if you decide to give it a go.

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Merciful To The Lost

“…I heard a voice saying to me… ‘Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me? It is hard for you to kick against the goads.’ And I said, ‘Who are you, Lord?’ And the Lord said, ‘I am Jesus…” Act 26:14-15ESV

For two days I been telling you how God moved in the life of a sinful woman, to answer Mom’s prayers; bringing Lou into my life. We married and misunderstandings began.

One morning, Lou returned from work at 10:30a.m; pulled me out of bed by my feet. His words were totally jumbled. “Take clothes very hurry, go big ride, you box, I come home.” What in the world????? After fighting because I wasn’t awake and was clueless to what he was saying; he left abruptly. In an hour, he returned with a note from his boss. We needed to pack and report to work in Illinois the next morning. This was the first of what now totals sixty-one partial — total combined moves, (Enough items to cook with, changes of clothing for work, plus my hobby or everything we owned).

Lou came from Quebec Canada, French Roman Catholic background; understanding 100 English words, speaking approximately fifty words. I knew no French. Marriage counselors will tell you communication is necessary in a marriage. How about when you can’t discuss anything because of language barriers? The language of love only translates into so much. You have to talk about money, utility bills, groceries, trips, etc.

Every couple struggles with finances. Being no different, we had challenges. The greatest of which was Lou’s alcohol budget, when I didn’t consume any. I became disenchanted with all the ‘fun’ and parties. Now quite fluent in French, I nagged, tried to push him into change. Unbending, he stood like a stone mountain, unmovable. Although life had wrinkles, I didn’t need God’s help.

Our daughter, at eighteen months, became sick with diarrhea, vomiting, then pneumonia. Doctors treated her for pneumonia and she’d get better, for a few months. Mysteriously it returned, but I didn’t need to pray about this.

When our son came prematurely, we almost lost him. This was the first time Lou became truly serious with God. The night doctors wanted to transport him to Riley’s Children’s Hospital, a preacher unexplainably showed up for a visit. Lou dedicated our son to God that night, but asked Jesus to allow us to raise him. Miraculously, during the night his condition reversed. God healed him. Still we didn’t come to Jesus.

Salmonella returned to ravage our daughter’s body. God performed a miracle in time to make it to the doctor’s office. We’d never heard about ‘sepsis.’ Yet doctors mentioned sepsis Salmonella in her tears. As she convulsed repeatedly during the night, I began to realize— I needed God’s help. Crying out to Jesus and one excellent doctor saved her life.

A routine PAPS Smear was performed. Results were suspicious. Surgery was scheduled. I hastily quit playing with God and became serious about salvation and eternity. The cancer was carcinoma in situ, removed with surgery. My final wake-up call, like Paul getting knocked off of his horse and blinded in Acts 9. Blessed by grace, I’ve not ever turned back to doing life rebelliously.

Down time’s road I became judgmental of people trapped in addictive lifestyles. Telling them ‘you’re sinning and need the Savior.’ I’d forgotten what I’ve been saying for three days. — God is MERCIFUL to the lost and sinful. He worked in my behalf over and over, while I rebelled and lived life my way. Patiently, Jesus allowed me to learn my way alone wasn’t the best, solving no problems.

Reading this and don’t know Jesus? You can trust Him. But will you allow Him to be Lord. It’s your choice. You choose.

PRAYER: Father God, thank You for being merciful with us. You’re awesome. Help others to read this and see You welcome them too, in Jesus’ name I pray.

by Debbie Veilleux Copyright 2019 You have my permission to reblog this devotional for others. Please keep my name with this devotional as authors. Thank you.