#despite the fact i had to go to church for like. half my life one way or another i actually know piss bout the borble LOL

[esterigermaine]

Astarion needs so much therapy.

[todayisafridaynight]

in the last supper recreation, kiryu is in the position of james the great, who was the first to die for jesus [ in this case, ichi ] which makes me nervous. peepaw gonna die for real this time??

another possible connection i found is how jo is in the position of thomas, who demanded proof of christ's crucifixion. not sure how it correlates, but it's something!

call me a smooth brain but im not trying to think too much bout the potential symbolism behind The Last Supper pic. the parallels ARE neat and they PROB could be indicative of whats to come (theres also cosniderations for the fact there's two variations of the picture) tho: never say never and all

[unreliablesnake]

Guilty as charged (David "Deacon" Kay x f!reader)

Summary: You're working for the CIA's Special Activities Division and get involved in a case 20-David has to deal with. Despite being married, Deacon is drawn to you and there's nothing he can do about it. His life gets out of control and it takes a really long time to find himself again.

Warnings: emotional cheating, a teensy bit of catholic guilt

Note: I only saw like half of s6 so I don't know Annie. She must be nice, but this had to be done.

You were CIA–Special Activities Division to be exact. Deacon understood that you had been close to the fire before and knew much more about their suspect than they would learn from a quick research. Time was running out which meant they could use all the help they could get. Hondo wanted him and Luca to go through the details with you so they could come up with a plan, but he wasn’t exactly happy about it.

His problem with you wasn’t the fact you were an outsider. It was personal.

First, he subconsciously began to focus on your hands, looking for an engagement ring or a wedding band, but there was nothing. Then you made a quick personal phone call around him, and he found himself listening to see if the person on the other end of the line was someone you were in a relationship with. And he knew he was in big trouble when he had to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you against his chest to get you out of the way of trouble.

He reminded himself that he was married with kids over and over again, that he was in a happy marriage and didn’t need anyone else. But then you flashed a small smile at him and his strength to keep his distance disappeared without a trace. He discreetly made sure he was near you all the time; he helped you out if further research was necessary, if you had to visit a witness or a source, or if you wanted to let off some steam in the boxing ring after running into another dead end.

By the time that case came to an end, he had more and more trouble getting you out of his head. He even went to church to confess his sinful thoughts, but that didn't seem to help him, because that evening he had a brand new dream about you. A dream that mirrored the primal need that took over every time he was around you.

On the way to the station he made a promise to himself in his car; if they went out for a drink to celebrate, if you were a willing participant, he would take his chance and kiss you. Just one innocent kiss, nothing more.

Of course, it was hard to decide what he would regret the most. Kissing someone who wasn't his wife or letting you go without trying. He wanted to be faithful, he really did, but he was on the verge of losing his mind, and the only medicine seemed to be you. He had to try, even if he would have a terrible case of guilt for the rest of his life.

While you and Hondo discussed something outside of the bar, he got lost in a conversation with the rest of the team. Anything to take his mind off the thought of this being the last time he saw you. But maybe this was good news, maybe being away from you would give him the closure he was seeking.

Some time later Hondo showed up, ordering a beer for himself before turning to Deacon. “I can see you want to say something,” he said with a smile.

“Where did you leave our new friend?”

The other man let out a long sigh at this seemingly innocent question. “She’s talking to someone on the phone outside. Look, Deac, you’re my friend, so remember that I'm on your side. But listen, you need to stop.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can see the way you look at her. You're married, you shouldn't look like a kicked puppy every time she turns her attention to someone else.” Deacon nervously looked away, suddenly feeling guilty because he was right. He probably did look like a kicked puppy, because he sure as hell felt like one every time you talked to someone else from the team. “Did anything happen between you?” Hondo asked him with a concerned look.

“No.”

“Good. You shouldn't risk your marriage for someone who will leave tomorrow.”

With a groan, Deacon stood up and put on his jacket. “Noted. I'll go get some fresh air now.”

“Come on, man, I've just told you to leave her alone. You're playing a dangerous game,” came the sensible response.

“Thanks for the warning, I appreciate it.”

Hondo was right about everything, he knew that very well, but he was drawn to you in a way he had never been drawn to anyone, not even his wife. The idea of never seeing you again felt like a dagger in his heart, which seemed surreal since he only met you a few days ago. It was something unexplainable, something he was willing to accept without questions. Maybe it was fate that brought you together.

He walked around the building and found you standing on the street with your back against the wall, the light of the screen illuminating your face as you scrolled your phone. Even though he came to a stop before reaching you so he could take a good look at you, appreciating the view and taking in every little detail to remember you, you looked up and flashed a smile at him.

“Needed some air?” you asked, sounding as friendly as always.

“Yeah, you can say that. Can we talk?” You nodded and pushed yourself away from the wall to move closer to him. “Please tell me you have someone waiting for you back home,” Deacon begged you quietly.

“What?”

“Tell me you're in a relationship, give me a damn good reason why I shouldn't do something I might regret later.”

“Deacon, I…”

He placed his hands on your cheeks and leaned so close his lips almost touched yours. Almost. He kept a little distance, he didn't kiss you, so it didn't count as cheating, right? You looked confused, but still let him take control of the situation. “I shouldn't be doing this, but you don't give me a choice. You're driving me crazy, you know that?” he asked as his lips brushed your jawline.

Your fingers curled around his wrist before you gently pulled his hands away and took a step or two away from him. “I know you’re married, and I avoid married men,” you informed him, although there was no hate in your voice. You were still kind to him, as if it was nothing more but a misunderstanding.

“If I was single, would you give me a chance?”

“No. And it’s not because of you, it’s because of me. I don’t live in LA, I’m sometimes away for months, and I wouldn’t want you to deal with that.”

“I wouldn’t care.”

“But I would.” You stopped and took a deep breath, your eyes set on him as you carefully studied his expression. Deacon tried to keep a straight face, he tried to keep calm and make it look like he wasn’t on the verge of a panic attack, but you clearly saw through it all. “You’re not planning on leaving your family, are you?”

“I don’t know. Can’t say the thought hasn’t crossed my mind.”

Shaking your head, you let out a sigh and took a hesitant step closer. “Don’t even think about it, okay? You can’t end a marriage that’s been good just because you’re temporarily confused by your feelings,” you said, keeping your voice down as you tried to talk some sense into him.

Before he could figure out how to respond to that, Street showed up and told him they had to go somewhere. You motioned him to go with that damn adorable smile on your face, and he had a hard time fighting the urge to finally kiss you, probably for the first and last time. In the end he nodded and walked away, not looking back to make sure he safely escaped from your gravitational field.

It took Annie over a month to realize something was wrong. The countless nights Deacon spent on the couch instead of their shared bed, the distance he slowly built between them, the conversations they never had, and the way he snapped at her once when she dared to ask why he stayed out late one evening. He screwed up, he knew that, but he had been tense ever since you accidentally called him.

How could he forget about you when he saw your number in his phone, saved under the name Oliver so Annie wouldn’t put the pieces together if she ever took a look at his contact list or recent calls? If she had taken a look at it, she would have seen one incoming call from this guy, and several outgoing ones that only lasted a few seconds. Maybe a new friend, she could have thought.

So another two months later Annie sat him down so they could talk like adults, discussing what bothered him and hopefully finding a solution to their problem. At first he didn’t want to talk, he just kept changing the topic, but she knew better than to let him do that. When she asked him who she was, he groaned and stood up to start pacing in front of her. How could he explain the situation? It was so ridiculous that even he wanted to laugh at himself sometimes.

“We worked together on a case for a few days about four months ago. I hadn’t seen her or talked to her since then. Nothing happened, I swear,” he said, choosing to be honest with her. She deserved that much.

“Then what’s going on? Despite stating nothing happened between you, you didn’t hesitate to confirm it’s about another woman,” she pushed on, her voice slowly breaking.

Deacon gulped as he considered what to say. “She knew I was married and she wanted absolutely nothing from me. It’s all on me, Annie. I was the one who chased her, not the other way around.”

“Please, pack a suitcase and leave. I–I can’t be under the same roof with you now.”

A text was all he sent you. A short text that told you his wife had kicked him out three months ago and he was sure they wouldn't get back together. Then he waited. A day. A week. A whole month passed with no response. He was beginning to accept that you wouldn't talk to him again.

But then he went to the station one day and he was told someone was waiting for him. It was you. After all that time you were standing in front of him, looking absolutely stunning in the blue sundress you wore with a pair of beige summer ankle boots. You looked so uncertain that if he hadn't known what you were capable of, he would have assumed you were out of your element here.

Maybe you were. Maybe you both were. This wasn't a conversation about a case or your respective jobs. He felt it in his bones that you came because of his message. So he cleared his throat and walked over to you, taking deep breaths to calm himself since his heart wanted to jump out of his ribcage.

“It's been a while,” he said with a nervous smile.

You looked down at your shoes, doing your best to avoid his gaze. “I don't even know why I'm here. I've been away for so long, then I came home a few days ago and saw your text and the missed calls. I'm sorry, it's been a long time, maybe I should leave,” you said.

Before you could turn to leave, though, he grabbed your hand and pulled you back. “Is that why I couldn't reach you? Because you were on a mission?” You nodded when you were finally brave enough to look him in the eye. “When I asked you if you would give me a chance if I was single, you said you wouldn't because of your job. But now you're here and I need to know why.”

“I don't know, Deac. All I know is that I couldn't get you out of my head after I found out you were still thinking about me,” you admitted.

He smiled at you as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer to himself. “Let's say we can find a way to make this work. Are you sure you're ready for this?” he asked you.

You placed a hand on his arm and began to draw circles into his skin with your thumb. The silence was deafening, but he wasn't about to rush you, not when he finally had you this close again. And then you spoke up, but the things you said brought a deep frown on his face.

“You misunderstood me, I'm afraid. When I said I couldn't get you out of my head, I meant it in a different way. You can't keep doing this to yourself. Stop thinking about me, forget I exist, and for the love of God, try to fix things with your wife,” you told him seriously.

“I don't think that's possible,” he began sadly. “Every time I look at her, all I can think about is how I wish she was more like you. I can't love the woman she is anymore. It's you I need.”

Shaking your head, you pushed his arm away and stepped away from him. “I need to go, my team will head out in two hours. Don't torture yourself, Deacon. You deserve better,” you said, even flashing a supportive smile at him.

He let out an annoyed groan, his warm eyes watching you closely as he thought about what he could possibly do to change your mind. Maybe if he showed you how good you two would be together, you would realize that it wasn't worth losing the possibility of a happy relationship. So in the end he looked around, making sure no one was around, then closed the gap between you and let his lip crush into yours in a cautious kiss.

“Now be honest with me,” he began patiently as his fingers caressed your cheek. “Why did you really come here? You were nervous, told me you didn't know why you came here, which was probably a lie. And I can tell the whole ‘forget about me and go back to your wife’ speech was a lie too.”

You watched him silently for a while, then you gulped and licked your lips as you prepared to talk. “But I meant it when I said you deserved better than me,” you told him.

“Just try to accept it’s you I need in my life.”

“What about the divorce? How’s that going?”

The divorce. Sure. All that had happened so far with his marriage was Annie throwing him out and the two of them seeing a counselor to discuss how to move on with the kids. They had to tell them that he was moving out for good, and they had to find the right way to assure them he wouldn’t disappear. But they never talked about the legal part of this process which was weird in retrospect as they had been separated for months and Annie was seeing someone already.

Deacon took a deep breath and said, “It’s… going.”

When he saw you close your eyes and let out a long sigh, he knew he couldn’t fool you. And just as he expected, you pulled away and gave him a serious look. “Call me when you’re legally single, okay? Until then it’s nothing more but a fantasy, you know that,” you told him coldly before telling him you had to get to the airport anyway.

He didn’t even try to stop you. You were right, and even he would have a lot to process if he entered a relationship before the divorce was finalized. He was already going to the church quite often to at least chat with the priest if he wasn’t ready to confess, hoping he would be able to give him the guidance he needed so badly right now.

And now you were back, even if for just a very short time, and made it clear you wouldn’t necessarily be against a relationship if the circumstances were different. Now he had to wait. He had to wait for bureaucracy, hoping nothing would stand in his way. How patient he would be while he was waiting, though, was a completely different matter.

[thepunkmuppet]

I have spent so much time thinking about the miss holloway musical WHICH THEY HAVE ALREADY WRITTEN and I need to spill my thoughts about it

there is no point or end to this it’s just a brain fart of all the thoughts I’ve been having so enjoy I guess lmfao

“backstory”. it will be about her backstory. was she an 80’s music star who sold her mortal life for fame in a deal that backfired on her?? or was she a woman with the gift about to be hanged by the hatchet men who saved herself by making that same deal?? HOW FAR BACK DOES THIS GO IS WHAT IM ASKING WE KNOW FUCK ALL ABOUT THIS WOMAN

if it’s the former, I would love to maybe have mariah as casey (the girl with the gift in the witchwood who asked for her autograph) be an actual character who holloway maybe tries to help. also kim singing 80’s songs fuck yeah

and if it’s the latter then,,, oh wow. some heavy musical numbers, a shitload of hatchetmen / church of the starry children lore, and maybe another form of the lords in black (maybe the creepy hooded figures that we see drawn in the black book???)

also sorry EDIT I just looked at this picture again and the middle one (probably wiggly) is holding a knife. there’s no fucking way that’s not the black blade this is absolutely miss holloway guys omggggg

I would love to see this scene on stage with kim!!!! this would make 5 different forms of the LIB that we’ve seen / heard about (dolls, teens / humans, their true forms, wiggly in made in america, and whatever this is). I’m just imagining you see these black hooded figures, and then in the pro-shot you get a good look inside their hoods… and their faces are NOT human. like just imagine a massive purple eye staring out of one of those hoods, maybe even moving and blinking, a cool animatronic thing. SO CREEPY!! I also love the idea of switching up the actors again - I love jon so much as wiggly and I don’t think they would change him bc of his voice, but with the rest of them I think any actor can play a LIB which opens up so many possibilities…

I also would love to know how miss holloway met duke, and potentially even how many times they have met and then he had to forget her. considering the fact that we now have weird lore about his dad in 2005, did she know duke when he was younger?? did she help him out when he was a teenager, or help his dad?? is it a family thing, like she’s vowed to watch over the keane family or something??

duke’s dad is a big part of this tbh, because what a random insane lore / backstory drop, like WHAT? I genuinely have no idea what douglas keane sr’s murder could be about, except that it ties in to duke and to wilbur. and shows that 2005 is SO DAMN IMPORTANT

2005 was the year hannah was born, the year the portal to the black and white was created, the year wilbur cross went insane and became a disciple of the LIB, the year miss holloway took on the mantle of “miss holloway”, and (very likely) the year miss holloway and wilbur fought. so i think it’s safe to say that the musical itself will be set in 2005, which to me means macnamara and wilbur backstory alongside holloway and duke, which is very very fun

I like the idea that wilbur and macnamara were canonically together, and I really want to see pre-LIB wilbur. I also love the idea of macnamara and holloway working together or even becoming friends - despite being set a decade and a half before nightmare time, it would feel like the culmination of the two hanging plot threads / overarching arcs to me. also the idea that it was holloway who introduced macnamara to the paranormal and therefore essentially set up PEIP and doomed wiley is some juicy stuff that I would LOVE to see, especially if either macnamara or wiley lived in hatchetfield as kids and miss holloway helped them, inspiring whichever one of them to set up PEIP

ok so leading off of that I have a clear vision of a potential final scene that is driving me insane, and that’s the main reason why I patched together this post.

the final scene is the fight between miss holloway and wilbur, the one that happens in every single timeline.

and the basic idea is that we see both fights at once. there’s a song, and the stage is like black friday and spies are forever, with a level above the stage the actors can walk up to and stand on. joey and kim sing, and do their bit on the stage, but above the stage there are either doubles or a projection, mirroring the choreography. only in the pro-shot version, they would splice in joey and kim playing both pairs, which I just think would turn out looking really awesome despite being tricky to pull off live.

and yeah basically at the exact same time, one wilbur stabs holloway, and the other holloway stabs wilbur, creating a gorgeous visual representation of the newly splintered timelines.

either that or they do a trail to oregon and just do a different ending each night, and then splice them together in the pro-shot like I was saying. but I personally prefer the first one, if they’re able to pull it off and make it look good

and duke shows up just after that, having followed miss holloway throughout the story so far. and in the universe where wilbur’s dead, miss holloway makes him forget it all, hence this being the year that she takes on the new name and the fact that we know he has forgotten about her / her true past before. and then in the universe where holloway is dead, he holds her as she dies in his arms. bonus points if we get dying holloway saying “please don’t forget me” and living holloway saying “you have to forget me”. oh and just to be cruel, both dukes saying “I could never forget you” at the same time :) stew on that for a bit. yeah. fuck you I guess lol I woke up and chose violence today apparently

the idea of the two of them finding each other again after that in some timelines is just gorgeous to me, especially given the fact that NMT3 seems to suggest them finding each other AGAIN after she needs to make him forget. truly star crossed lovers they are so insane for this

in summary I guess what I’m trying to say is I think it will include miss holloway’s full backstory and then be mostly set in 2005, and centre around the opening of the black and white portal (macnamara and wilbur), miss holloway meeting duke (wilbur murdering duke’s dad, possibly something with lex and hannah if duke was already a social worker) and eventually the big fight between holloway and wilbur, ending in the audience seeing both potential endings. also obviously a reference to hannah’s birth because that seemed to be some kind of catalyst. thank you for coming to my utterly deranged ted talk goodbye

[asphalt-cocktail]

Lead Us To Temptation- Chapter 3

Chapter 3- Hell Hath No Fury

Summary: In the small town of Eden Ridge, you knew several things to be true: church happened every Sunday, the saloon served free lunch with the purchase of a drink on Thursdays, coal miners left work at 7PM sharp, and Bucky Barnes was a man sent from the depths of hell dangling the threat of temptation and sin right in front of your face. All you need to do is reach out and grab it.

Pairing: Outlaw!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Talks of crime, robbery, crime for hire, talks of violence and guns, kidnapping, talks of past smut, less religion than the previous chapters but its still there. Bucky is a criminal in this so idk what to tell you if you are shocked by the crime. There isn't any gore and nothing is described in graphic detail. Don't worry reader is a badass this is a love story with a happy ending.

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: I just want to pop in and say how grateful I am for all of the lovely comments, reblogs, tags, and likes I have been getting over the last few weeks! You guys are the ones who keep me writing. I am not doing a tag list, but you can feel free to turn my notifications to get one every time I post a new chapter <3

Masterlist

Read me on AO3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Staying in Eden Ridge was probably the longest Bucky had managed to stay in a town and not do something to get run out or have another wanted poster with his face printed on it and slapped on every shop bulletin. 

It was making the boys antsy. They could only hold up so many stagecoaches carrying rich assholes on the outside of town before they got too bored. 

“When are we going to hit the bank Buck? We’ve been here so long the damn seasons have changed.” John’s voice had the uncanny ability of springing a sudden and painful migraine behind Bucky’s eyes anytime he spoke. 

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. John pissed him off. “We need to wait a bit before we hit the bank. The ticket seller at the train station mentioned something about a train coming in to transport coal from the mines and take it back east. I guess the coal company is sending some bonds with it because the owner made a deal with Union Pacific.” 

“So what, they’re taking the bonds to the train yard?” 

“I’m glad to see you’re using the brain in that big fucking head of yours John.” To be completely transparent, Bucky harbored a strong dislike for John. 

Their association was almost solely due to John being Steve’s cousin, and Steve’s endorsement was something Bucky didn’t have the heart to dispute. Steve saved his life on more than one occasion. They’d gone through the Civil War together, they experienced the death of both of their parents together. You couldn’t get much closer to a man than that.  

The other reason being was John’s uncanny knack for survival. Despite the dangers of their lifestyle, John seemed to evade death, Bucky reckoned it was because God sure as hell didn’t want him and well, the Devil probably didn’t either so they just left him to do his business in the land of the living until they decided what to do with him.

Bucky was aware that his disdain for John might be uncalled for considering John’s role as the enforcer in their party. John was the one they sent out to take care of the more unsavory business transactions. However, these factors didn’t compensate for the fact that he was just plain weird and unpleasant to be around.

But Bucky was having such a lovely time playing house with you so, naturally he kept his plan to rob your father's train car transporting bonds to the Union Pacific rail yard. Management needed to cash them in and finalize the deal stating they were to use the Eden Coal & Iron as their main supply source. It was a deal that would make your father a very, very rich man. 

Robbing trains was as easy as stealing candy from a baby. An old, half balding, rich, man baby. Bucky could do it in his sleep. He didn’t feel bad about robbing your father. In fact he felt kind of good stealing from that rotten son of a bitch. 

Stealing these bonds would only be scraping the surface of the vast wealth your father accumulated by exploiting the hard working people of Eden Ridge. He was as crooked as crooked could be and there was no amount of praying or church going that would save his soul from the depths of hell once he died, god willing. 

If only you knew how your father treated the hard working miners who toiled in the depths of hell for him. He squeezed 15 grueling hours of labor from them 6 days a week, their backs bowed under the weight of his insatiable greed, all while their families languished in hunger. 

He wasn't the benevolent savior of Eden Ridge, rather, he resembled a vampire, voraciously draining the life force from the Earth and the good hearted denizens of the town you called home. Once he exhausted every able bodied man here, he’d slither away to prey upon the next unsuspecting community. 

Bucky’s plan was simple: wait a day or two several towns away to intercept the train and get to work. But he had to be careful If he got too reckless with his crimes, he’d have to leave. The question loomed in the back of his mind, when he had to leave would you come with? 

When he told you he was leaving to work a job you felt sick, “What do you mean leaving?” 

He cleared his throat and licked his lips, “I need to take the boys to deal with something for a few days. I promise I’ll be back by the end of the week. Two weeks tops.” He said hugging you tight, it pained him to see you worrying so much.

“But what if you don’t come back?” The question punched him in the chest and stole his breath. 

“Now don’t go talking like that.” He scolded you, “I’ll be back I promise.” You swallowed his words like a brick of lead. 

So for seven days you did the only thing you could do and waited. You sought comfort in Sam’s sister Sarah and her friend Natasha, spending most of your free time practicing needle work, reading, and chatting with the women. Sarah was a familiar and friendly face from the local church. Tragically widowed two winters prior, she was left with the responsibility of raising two boys on her own. To your knowledge, she had embraced her brother’s motley crew of friends, offering them sanctuary with open arms.

After your second meeting with Sarah she introduced you to Natasha, the local Madame. It took everything in your power to not turn your nose up at the idea of a woman engaging in sex for money. Your pious thoughts took a back seat when you remembered you were also engaging in sinful premarital acts with a man. 

Not sex though. No. 

Every time you thought today was the day Bucky shut it down. As much of a filthy bandit he was, he was still extremely respectful towards you. He always said he wanted to wait, the moment never felt right.

——

The moon hung low in the inky black sky as Bucky and his crew of bandits moved like vultures closing in on their prey. They moved silently, night as their accomplice- the thick fog veiling their actions, the rhythmic clatter of wheels masking the sounds of struggle. No witnesses meant no loose ends, and Bucky knew it well. 

It was quick. Efficient. 

Kill everyone on the train and then set it back on course so some poor sad sack could clean up the mess left behind. 

When Bucky’s eyes laid upon the bonds, your father’s exceptionally neat handwriting looping on the paper, he grinned like a snake. Peter could easily get a few hundred for the bonds. Having such a young boyish face always made him seem more trustworthy than the other members of the gang. 

To make up for leaving you worried half to death Bucky bought you a lovely hair pin. It was copper with a small decorative flower on the end of it. “If you think all it’s going to take is a pretty hair pin to forgive you, you’re wrong.” You lied through your teeth snatching it from his dirty hands and pinning it into your prayer veil, because of course Bucky returned just in time to take you to Sunday mass and have lunch with your family afterwards. 

Since midweek, your father had been in a downright rotten mood. He’d spent the last few days late at work and when you showed up to the office to bring him dinner he was yelling at his assistant every time without fail. 

“Tell them to double the guards! Put a damn Gatling on the top of the roof! Send the Pinkertons! I don’t care what you have to do, get that money to the train yard.” 

“But sir-“

“I said figure it out god damn it!” The way he slammed his hands on his desk made you jump. 

It wasn’t often your father lost his temper, but when he did it was frightening. 

At lunch your father glared daggers at Bucky while your mother preened over him. It was nice to see things hadn’t changed during his week away committing crime. 

“James, dear, you should work for the mining company!” Your mother kindly suggested, “My husband is always looking for strong young men such as yourself.” 

It took every fiber of his being to not scoff at the thought of selling his soul to the company, “I rather like the ranch work I’ve been doing for Miss Wilson, but thank you ma’am. If I have a change of heart you’ll be the first to know.” 

On the record Bucky was a ranch hand for Sam’s sister, sure he helped out here and there for the woman but he wasn't getting paid for it, your family didn’t need to know that. 

“We have some friends that are ranchers down in Texas, let us know if you ever venture down there and I’ll send a telegram to them for you.” Your mother was a bonafide socialite. She knew people of all walks of life and thrived on making connections for people, “Your horse is trained so well, they could use someone with your talent.” 

“Alpine?” Bucky grinned thinking of his beautiful white mare, she was almost as stubborn as you are, “I have to say she’s probably my second favorite girl.” 

Your father hated seeing Bucky around the house. He hated how Bucky was always a perfect gentleman whenever he came around. It didn’t matter, no daughter of his was going to marry some rough neck, dirty ranch hand if he had any say in it. 

There was something just plain not right with James Barnes and your father was going to get to the bottom of it. 

As it turns out, it took very little effort to find out the history of a career criminal. This was worse than if Bucky was actually a ranch hand, not only was he a criminal, but he robbed the damn train your father used to transport the bonds not once, but twice in the span of two weeks. 

He couldn’t believe he let a man who stole from him into the safety of their home. He couldn’t believe he let a criminal court his daughter (not that he even approved of the courtship). Bucky was probably sitting in his room at the inn laughing and counting the dollar bills that belonged to in his pocket. 

And the image of that pissed him off to no end. 

It pissed him off so much that he paid off a group of bounty hunters to finally deal rid him of the man once and for all. Bucky wasn’t going to come gracefully, but lucky for your father, Bounty hunters had loose morals and business practices much like he did. When he told Brock Rumlow "I don't care how you do it, just get rid of him!" your father didn't know he opened up a new, lawless realm of possibilities.

----

The late summer sun hung low in the sky as you quickened your pace home, the two men behind you following relentlessly, footsteps crunching on the dusty streets. You couldn’t make out their faces as they stayed just out of your line of sight but the feeling in your gut only harbored malevolence and fear. 

Your path meandered through town, twisting and turning to ensure they truly were following you.

Two turns left. Three turns right. Then a detour past the butcher.

Dread settled inside you and you quickened your pace, ragged breaths gasping as you neared the outskirts of town and broke into a full sprint as best you could, bunching your skirts in your arms so as to not trip. The buildings thinned, and the darkness deepened as you drew further and further from the bustling center of Eden. 

Further away from anyone who would hear you scream.

Rough hands grabbed you, forcing a bag over your head as you fought, kicking and screaming. Hissing and spitting like a feral cat. Their powerful builds quickly overpowered you, sitting on your legs as you thrashed trying to squirm away, clawing at the dirt and wedging it under your fingernails and covering your fine dress. Then they tied you, bound your arms and legs and threw you on the back of a horse like a sack of grain.

When the horse finally halted you were dragged off, stumbling and disoriented. The hood was yanked off and you were roughly pushed into a small, dark room. You turned finally able to make out the face of your captors who reeked of sweat and malice. He was tall and broad, skin tanned by the sun, with dark hair and eyes. He would have been handsome if this were any other circumstance.  

Your nostrils flared like an angry bull as you exhaled and spat at him in defiance while he manhandled your still fighting body, “Let go of me!” You shrieked, anger overpowering your feelings of fear. 

How dare they! How dare these filthy men put their hands on you and soil a perfectly good dress. How dare they throw you on a horse with a bag over your head and force you into this filthy damp room. Your rage bubbled over, you’d never felt this level of anger before. But the sheer callous disrespect of a lady pushed you over the edge. 

You should have been afraid, fearing for your life even. But the type of men who did this? Well they were cowards. Lower than the lowest cretin to walk the Earth. 

“Well look at you, now I know why Barnes has taken such an interest in you Missy.” The man in front of you grinned like a snake. His hand trailing your jaw, fingers lingering against your skin, “you’re a little firecracker ain’t you?” 

You turned your head to bite him, teeth snapping together as you snarled.  Ordinarily, you epitomized the quintessence of a respectable lady—devout and pious, a paragon of Catholic virtue. Yet, confronted with this dehumanizing treatment, a primal instinct awakened within. If they insisted on regarding you as a beast, then, in the eyes of the Almighty, you would unleash the ferocity of one. “Let me go.” You hissed, “You… you cretin!”    

The man shoved you roughly away, narrowly dodging your bite, “Easy there ma’am, we ain’t gonna hurt you.” For some reason you had a hard time believing him with the kidnapping, the pushing, the bag over your head, “We just need you to bring us out cash cow.” He said and slid over a wanted poster with an uncanny portrait of Bucky on it.

Oh

Now it all made sense. 

You took the poster and read the script:

WANTED CAPTURED DEAD OR ALIVE James “Bucky” Barnes  For multiple accounts of murder, theft, and fraudulent activities. Known leader of the Barnes Gang, responsible for numerous bank and train robberies across the Midwestern and Western United States. This is a dangerous individual who will not hesitate to murder.  Mid thirties, brown hair, scar on left arm. Last scene heading west towards the Eden Mountain range.  If spotted DO NOT APPROACH; contact local authorities.  Bounty of $5,000

Of course they’d take you as bait to lure a man with a $5,000 bounty and his gang of merry bandits out from hiding. Something told you that these men thought taking down Bucky would be easy. But you knew this would probably be the hardest $10k they were going to make. They’d probably die doing it! And silently you hoped they would.

A man’s head isn’t worth $5,000 because it’s easy work taking him down. It’s worth that much because he won’t hesitate to fucking kill you in the worst way possible. You didn’t know exactly what Bucky was capable of doing, but you couldn’t help the shiver that crept up your spine when your eyes landed on the big, bold DO NOT APPROACH, “I think for your sake, you should let me go.” 

Perhaps there was a touch of madness in relishing the thrill that such a perilous man inspired within you. Yet, it was the very specter of danger that ignited a fervent blaze deep in your core. To you, Bucky was a flame dancing provocatively over a pool of oil—intensely captivating and inherently volatile.

The dark haired man scoffed, “Your beau ain’t the big bad man everyone seems to think he is. Not when he’s got such an easy weakness to exploit.” 

It was true, Bucky was having the time of his life in Eden Ridge playing house with you. He was living in utter domestic bliss.   “If it’s money you want, my daddy will pay you.” You offered. You had to exhaust all your options and if these men were money hungry then your father would be more than happy to give them the $10k for your life. You didn’t know how much money he had exactly, but you knew it was a pretty penny. 

“Sweetheart, your daddy already paid us.” He mocked you. 

You blinked, brain barely able to comprehend the words he said to you. What a weird thing to say. 

Unbelievable even. 

You were going to have to dissect that at a later date when you were in a better position. 

[catholic-character-tournament]

Round 4 - Catholic Character Tournament

Propaganda below ⬇️

Gambit

He is catholic, cares about the cross and baby jesus and everything. He also has red and black eyes and a member of a Guild of Thieves. He has been a thief since a child and is proud of it. His marriage was anulled and he got remarried later, but inbetween he had a lot of sex with random people. The fact that he is catholic and doing all this shit is never brought into question.

Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler Propaganda:

good lord where do i start. in the animated series he converts logan to catholisism and then fucks off basically thats the main thing he did there. i think one time they tried to make him a demon to explain how he looked but everyone hated that. he sold his soul one time to help his friends out after he died. he and logan have a weird little gay thing. he was a priest one time but he was made a priest by a fake bishop from a religion that hates mutants iirc so he just wasnt a priest. like 3 people have written him in a way i like and one of those is my friend just talking about how they view him.

wow marvel loves making catholic characters dress/look like demons

Kurt is a mutant who was born to mystique who looks a LOT like a devil (technically is half one but that cannon truth isn’t real go back to bed), his mother dropped him off a cliff when he was born and he was picked up by a Romani group/circus (fuck old comics man) however he then narrowly escaped being sold to a freak show and found himself in a small German town. There he met a kind priest, who showed him God, and he quickly grew attached to the idea- However, it wasn’t long before people began labeling him a demon and soon the whole town was against him with pitchforks and fire. Cornered and injured, Kurt thought this might be the end for him- maybe he would see heaven so long after finding it- but he was then saved by Charles Xavier who invited him to the X-Men. AND ITS BEEN SO MANY YEARS AND HE HAS BEEN THROUGH SO MUCH THERE. SO MUCH. SO GOD DAMN MUCH. BUT THE MOST AAAA THING TO ME CONCERNING HIS FAITH HE WHEN HE LITERALLY DIED AND WENT TO HEAVEN BUT THEN BECAUSE OF DRAMA WITH HIS FATHER HAD TO BRING HIS FRIENDS IN WITH HIM FROM THE BEYOND. THEN WITH ALOT OF TROUBLE THEY FOUGHT HIS FATHER AND THE ONLY WAY KURT SAW TO STOP HIM WAS IN A MOVE THAT STRIPPED THEM BOTH OF THEIR SOULS AND PUT THEM BACK ON EARTH. SO KURT CANONICALLY HAS NOW LOST HIS ABILITY FOR ETERNAL PEACE, LOST HIS VERY SOUL, TO SAVE PEOPLE- AND ALSO TOLD NO ONE NOT EVEN HIS GAY LOVER WOLVERINE.

Nightcrawler is a mutant vigilante who looks like a classical demon. He can’t even go to church without people panicking and trying to exorcize him. Despite it all, he’s so full of faith and hope and compassion, and he wants to believe the best of everyone. Also, he’s bffs with an extremely angry Jewish sword lesbian. That has nothing to do with anything, but it’s important to me that you all know that.

What if you were a devout christian and literally looked like the devil? He nearly became the pope, which was a plot by some supervillains that also involved faking a rapture? There is nothing like comics I swear to god.

A catholic who is half demon I don’t think I can better explain a struggle than that. But his character is so relatable to people who feel unwelcome with their congregation because of something that is a part of them but still feeling a connection to the faith. Kurt actively engaged in his faith and shares how his faith helps him through all the things he has faced in life and how he found a home with those of the church who leave the judging to God.

so they made kurt a priest briefly before deciding to retcon it, resulting in nightcrawler actually being part of a plan by villains to promote him to pope then reveal to the world that the pope is a demon. wild.

I have a side blog and a tattoo about him and i really really want him to win

Wisecracking devil-appearing devout Catholic with the Best superpower (teleportation)? HECK YES

German Catholic circus acrobat who looks like a demon & can teleport through a hellish alternate dimension with a puff of sulfur. Character of all time.

hes catholic and his dad is the devil. what could be funnier than that. also hes my silly little guy.

Nightcrawler is the world’s most fun catholic priest. I first was introduced to this kindhearted teleporting acrobat while he saved a boat full of stowaway refugees from inter dimensional pirates with swashbuckling gusto!

[harryforvogue]

Part One | Chapter One: Love Made Me Crazy

London, England

April 1917

Harry doesn't ask me to marry him. He tells me to.

I've never put much importance on marriage. All the marriages I've grown up around have been arranged. They have always been mere transactions, so to be a part of that exchange is something that's never intrigued me. The thought of breaking the cycle of unhappy marriages I've seen since I was younger is daunting, too big of a task to put on my shoulders. I do look at Harry and think I'd like to be with him for the rest of my life. We've talked about vows and whether we, being an irreligious duo, should bother to wed in a church, however, this seems to be in the future, years and years from now.

He springs it on me on my 24th birthday after everyone has gone to sleep. Due to the fact that I've been living with his family every summer, he's had to sneak into my room, sitting beside me on my bed. We're far too tired to be intimate tonight, thanks to the party his sister, Thea, has put together. We've both had some drinks and we're not too far from being drunk. I hold his hand in mine, my cheek pressed to his shoulder.

Harry says it loud and clear so I know it's not just the buzz of the alcohol in my ears. I pick my head up and look at him through heavy eyelids. For a split second, I see two of him. "What?"

His eyes are clearer than mine, voice less drowsy. "Marry me."

I laugh quietly, rubbing my cheek on his shoulder again. "Most men are gentlemen and tend to ask. In a more romantic way, too."

"I'm not asking," Harry says, completely serious. His mouth is in a tight line. I search for any hints of sarcasm, but the man who stares back at me is genuine in his words and expression. His eyes glance down to my mouth briefly. "I'm telling you to marry me."

I push myself off of him. "Sounds more like you're ordering."

"And what if I am?"

"Then I have to yell at you for it. What if I don't want to marry you, you insufferable man?"

Harry smiles fully, pink lips spread across his face, triggering the dimples on either side of that mouth. "Of course you do," he says as he leans down for a kiss. "I shouldn't even have to ask."

Despite the warmth of the kiss, I pull back and ask, "What do you mean?"

"Let's go to the courthouse tomorrow."

This comment forces a chuckle out of me. "Oh? Impatient, are we?"

Harry presses his mouth to my neck. "You have no idea," he gently whispers, all hot breath, biting down on my skin. "Is that a yes, then?"

"Harry," I say, much more sober now, gently prying him away. He holds my hands tightly and searches my eyes, his own softening.

"Annaliese."

"It's only, what, about a year and a half?"

"I know it's been that long since we've been together, but I've been yours for longer. I was born for you. And I want to be with you until I die. I want all the time I can have with you, so yes, excuse me if I'm a little impatient. I don't mind how you want the wedding. If you want to have a big one, then let's do it. If you want to run away, let's do it, Annaliese. Just say yes."

He kisses the expanse of my throat, my jaw, and my cheeks. "Harry, you know I'm not... I'm not in a rush and I'm not going anywhere. I'm still here in London and when I get a job, I'll be around whenever you want me to be."

He pulls away and holds my hands again. "You may not be in a rush, Annaliese, but I am."

"Why? You're young. It's not like you're dying tomorrow."

"What if I do die tomorrow? I'll never have married you."

I swallow uneasily, laying a gentle hand on his cheek. "Harry, you'll still have spent all that time with me. Marriage is just a label."

Something shifts in his eyes. "You don't think marriage is a big deal?" He sounds hurt, maybe even offended.

"Well," I start, taking my hand away, "it's a big deal, maybe, but it wouldn't be any different than what we are now."

"For starters," he quickly says, "we'd be living together, and I wouldn't have to be sneaking around like this just to get a kiss or two, Annaliese. And it's permanent. Don't you want that?"

"We can live together right now. We've saved enough money to last us a long time. Let's look at some places."

Harry frowns, clenching his jaw. "Annaliese, I don't think it's a good idea for us to move in together without being married."

"Why not? Don't be so conservative."

"I may not be conservative, but the whole world is. I mean, imagine explaining to my mother that we're moving in together. And another thing is your family. I haven't even met them. I can't move in with their daughter without speaking with them first."

"What? To ask them for permission?"

Harry shakes his head. "Not permission. I know you'd kill me if I did that. But I'd like to make it known to them that I will not be leaving their daughter's life. And I'm around forever. I don't even know what they're like."

He knows I can't argue with that. There hasn't been any opportunity for him to meet my parents. I've barely seen them myself in recent years save for one Christmas and my 23rd birthday.

"And," he continues, "I want to marry you. I want to make a life with you, not only move into a flat together. I want a house somewhere far away."

"What, like in America?"

His eyes brighten. "Yes, maybe. Let's do it, Annaliese. Marry me. I promise I will make you so happy. I have enough to give you right now."

My stomach flutters suddenly. "Harry, I have never, not even for one moment, ever thought that one day you'd make me unhappy. And I do want to have a future with you, but it's really soon, isn't it?"

Harry sighs and deflates. "Alright. What do you want to know about me?"

"What? I know everything about you."

"So tell me what the real issue is, Annaliese. Are you afraid you'll make the wrong choice? How about this, just agree to marry me, and then we can have a long engagement. I'll get you a ring, buy you a house in a nice neighborhood, make sure we find work in a nice place, and then we can get married. How's that?"

His eyes are desperately searching mine, and he kisses my fingers.

"Mon chéri, I just..." I don't know how to tell him that I'm not afraid of big decisions, but regrets. The last thing I want to do is regret a marriage, and with Harry no less because I wouldn't have anyone to turn to. He's the one I always go to when I have a problem with work or school or even his sister. Without him, who do I turn to? "I just need some time, please."

"Time?" he echoes, shoulders dropping. "For what?"

"To... to make sure!"

"To make sure I'm the one you want to marry?" he says, sounding even more hurt. "Annaliese, we've talked about marriage before."

"Right!" I argue, pulling my hands away, "and I want to marry you someday. I've seen too many marriages fail, too many people grow apart despite being married. I don't want that for us."

Harry stares at me for a long time and then presses his lips together tightly. "I see." He doesn't say anything for a long time. "So is it me?"

"No," I exclaim. "No! Fuck. Harry, I want to marry you, but just not now. I'm afraid..."

"Of what?" he persists.

"Of losing you! Down the road when you grow out of love with me and then we're both stuck in a marriage, unhappy, forever until we divorce. Harry, I can marry you and I can withstand hardships with you, but what I cannot do is divorce you."

Harry's eyes soften. "You're afraid of losing me? Annaliese..."

"Don't you dare say I'm being irrational. How can you believe in marriage after seeing what your father and mother have? And Thea?"

"My love, what you and I have is nothing like my father and mother. And certainly not what Thea and Jack had."

"Thea knew Jack longer than I've known you," I point out.

Harry sighs again. "Yes, but we are different." He squeezes my hand. "We are so good. We're strong."

"And what happens one day when you come home and are disappointed that I'm the one who greets you? And don't you dare say that would never happen, Styles. You know it happens. And if we have children, I will not be raising them single handedly. I'd rather kill you with my bare hands than have you walk out on them."

Harry raises his eyebrows in alarm, lips twitching with amusement. "Annaliese, you have to be more smart about this. I'm not proposing marriage because I've got a primary school crush on you. I love you. You know that."

I do know. I see it in his eyes everyday, every curve of his mouth when I visit him at his stepfather's shop, when he tells me things about his day and then ends with "I wish you were there too." I would be a fool to doubt the love he has for me right now, but I can't guarantee the love he'll feel for me next year, or the year after.

I hold his face, shifting closer. "Harry, I need time. Can I think about this?"

Harry's eyes widen and his mouth forms into a smile. "Annaliese Favreau, are you rejecting my proposal?"

"I'm not rejecting! I'm--"

"Stalling," he finishes, sighing. "Alright. I will give you time."

"Can I tell you by the end of the year?"

He pulls away immediately, horrified. "Absolutely not! Maybe by the end of the month because I'm being so generous!"

End of the month. It's July 7th. Only a little over 3 weeks to give him an answer. "Okay," I muse quietly. "Fine."

He doesn't look too happy about it, but he's not upset either. "Okay," he repeats. "Wow. I never considered that you might reject me. Of course you always surprise me, but still."

"I didn't reject you!"

The teasing smile returns to his face as he leans in to kiss me softly. His mouth is very warm and he tastes faintly of wine.

"Okay," he murmurs, "but you didn't say yes either. I love you."

I press myself closer, unable to get enough of the kisses. "Je t'aime, je t'aime, je t'aime."

***

There are other factors that make me reluctant about marriage, not only based on what I've seen in my childhood and young adult life. The war continues, showing no promise of an end. I look at Harry, who's finished with his education and the sole male from his family, fresh bait for the government to draft. The thought causes my knees to buckle, my heart squeezing with discomfort as if it's going to stop beating altogether. I look at him and imagine him far from me, far from his family he loves so dearly, and I want to take us all thousands of miles away. To marry him and have such little time with him? No, I can't mourn Harry.

Harry, on the other hand, isn't all that concerned about the war. He says he's got luck on his side and he's yet to be drafted so far into the war. He'll slip by unnoticed. He doesn't stop to consider he was too young when the war first began, and he's in the prime age for it now.

We don't talk about the war a lot, the thought of Harry joining makes me sick. He may not know too much about war (and his ignorance is sometimes for the better), however, I do know war. Stories of my grandfather in the war of 1870 haunts me, and if the war on the Western Front is anything like that, I cannot fully comprehend the terror I feel.

If we were to marry, I'd take up on his offer to go far from here. America, seemingly, is a safe bet for now.

***

Days pass by in a blur of anxiety. I have an answer for him by the end of the week, after Germany closes in on Paris as she had done years ago. We're at Hyde Park after dusk, walking side by side for some time. Harry doesn't speak, allowing me to gather my thoughts.

We stop at the large willow tree I usually read under and sit down against the hard roots, resting our backs against the dark trunk. It was unbearably hot today, but my sweating isn't caused only by the weather. Although it's dark, the temperature has yet to dip, very unlike the usual gloomy weather of London.

"I have an answer for you," I say, looking at a wilted branch looming over our heads just a few feet away.

Harry looks handsome, the gentle moonlight streaming over his face, light green eyes staring down at me, mouth curved into a smile. "And here I thought you snuck us out to have sex."

"Have sex under a tree in the dark? It's like you don't even know me, Styles."

Harry laughs, wrapping his arms around me, drawing me to his lap. His lips press to my throat, kissing softly. "I'd like to argue that I know you a little too well." He feels my fast pulse and slowly draws back. "Is that a no?" he asks quietly, tucking my hair behind my ear.

"It's not a no," I tell him, resting my hands on his sternum.

"You look so sad telling me yes," he sighs, resting his head back against the trunk. "Annaliese, I won't be angry if you say no. You have every right to say no. I'd just like a good reason as to why. The last thing I want to do is pressure you."

Tears brim in my eyes, and against my better judgment, I do nothing to hide them. In the dark, he can't see them, but he'd surely be alarmed by the sight of them. I rarely ever cry and right now, I feel as if I'm on the brink of hysteria.

"I don't want you to die," I whisper, afraid to raise my voice. "I don't want you to go to war."

The crickets are chirping very loudly, but that may just be because of Harry's silence.

"I'm not going to war, Annaliese," he answers, confused. "Where is this coming from?"

My fingers twist his shirt, unable to look at him. In the summer, he has freckles across his nose and cheeks, his dark hair shorter to keep him from overheating. I know all too much about him, about how his hands are calloused after a day at the printing shop, how he gets ink on his pants and it never comes off, how he often forgets to lock up the shop when he's on his lunch break. All these memories I have of the man I sit with currently will not be made into memories of a widow.

"They're drafting. And you're single. You have no kids. Nothing is tying you down."

Harry takes a big breath and exhales for the longest time. "You can marry me for any reason you want, Annaliese, but I will not let you marry me out of fright."

"Well, it's not you I'm scared of, Harry."

"No," he says firmly, holding my arms. "Annaliese. I want you to marry me because you want to. Not because you feel obligated."

"Obligation or not, Harry, I would do anything to keep you here with me."

Harry sighs again, deeper this time as if he's getting impatient. "I'm not afraid of dying."

"You may not be afraid of it, but I am!" My chest begins to ache from anxiety, breath shallowing.

"And I understand that," he says tensely, "but even if I don't die from the war, I could easily die from something else as early as tomorrow."

"Harry," I continue, holding his collar. "It's not the same. I plan on marrying you one day. And like you, I have no plans of leaving you, so is it so wrong if I marry you now and save you from trouble anyways?"

I can barely see his face except for an eye and the corner of his mouth. His lips are twisted down, his eyes narrowed in thought. My heart thunders in my ears, breath quickens to an embarrassingly fast pace, fingers trembling. My grip on his shirt is too tight. I let it go and my knuckles ache. The crickets are louder than before.

When he speaks, it's slow and deliberate. "I want you to marry me because you love me and trust me to make you happy. Right now. Not in the future, not years and years from now. I don't want anything else to be a factor in this decision." His body rumbles underneath me, voice deep and understanding. He's such a different man from his father. "I don't care about dying. I told you that a week ago. I just want to be yours."

He pauses to make sure every word hits me, and then continues on, "But, since this is a really big worry of yours... I can negotiate with you."

"Why?"

Harry chuckles under me, touching my chin. "Why? Christ, because I love you and I will have you any way I can."

"But I want you to be happy while loving me."

He gently swipes away a tear. "I know, Annaliese, and if you agree, it'll make me very happy. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"If you agree to marry me, only for me and not for any other obligation, I'll take you to America where we'll be far from the war. I told you I wanted to leave England and you want that too. This way, you'll have me without the prospect of drafting, and I'll have you, all to myself. And you won't be able to run away from me."

He tilts his head so the moonlight falls directly on his face and I can see his eager expression, eyes watching me carefully. "How's that?"

I love this man, not only when he's arguing with me about something he's passionate about, but when he's being reasonable against my unreasonable self.

But for how long can we run? And what if the war reaches America by the time we get there? There is no hope in staying in Europe, not with the war raging and ruining every country including mine. That brief thought I had about moving to France with Harry is long gone and foolish to think about now. The siege has not only left me in terror about my family, but about the proximity of how close it is to England, mere hours away from us. Air raids have become more frequent, not yet touching our side, but I hear them at night. I hear the planes while Harry is fast asleep in the other room and I feel it grip my heart in a tight fist. I can't breathe, scrambling out of bed to check if there's one coming towards us. I wait for Harry to arrive at my door, but he pays little attention to the politics of the world, the ones that are so against him.

Running away has always been an option, and Harry has mentioned on multiple occasions that he doesn't plan on staying in England for long. His tense relations with his family and the idea of getting a better paying job in America has always been on his list, but will we be making the right decision? America is not a country away. We would be leaving our past, our families, our notion of safety on these lands. We'd be foreigners, unaccustomed to the culture of America and their ways of living.

I have been an outsider for so long; in my closest circles, in different lands, in my own relationship. And I don't think Harry knows the consequences of leaving. Harry doesn't seem to understand any consequences of decisions that are literally life and death.

But he looks at me with an immense amount of trust, and he gives me a smile. "Don't worry," he says, running his thumb over my face. "I'll keep you fed."

"You know that's not what I'm worried about."

"I'm only joking, my love."

He waits patiently.

"Okay," I say finally, holding his face between my hands. "Merde. I'm saying yes."

A wide grin breaks out onto his face as he scrambles to sit up, hands on my waist. "You'll marry me?" He leans in and kisses me, hard, desperate. "Fuck. You do make me insane, Favreau. Can't believe the things you make me do."

"Better get used to it, Styles," I laugh, sniffling.

"I've been getting used to it for a year now, ma femme."

I hold onto him tightly when he brings me in for a hug, anxiety still prodding at my ribs. My eyes close. I squeeze him and send a quick prayer to whoever is up there to keep the man in my arms save from harm.

[charliethomascoxuniverse]

In the Footsteps of a Saint

FAITH TODAY：MAY 2011

Catholic actor Charlie Cox is making waves across the Atlantic – and he’s about to hit the cinemas in his native UK playing a saint in a new movie.

FAITH TODAY went to meet him.

How does it feel to be a saint?  That’s something no-one alive can ever really know, since sainthood is only acknowledged after death: but up-and-coming actor Charlie Cox knows more about it than most. Cox, 28, is the star of There Be Dragons, a new movie about the early life of St Josemaria Escriva, the Spaniard who founded Opus Dei.  So – given that he’s a Catholic himself - how did it feel to Cox to walk in a saint’s shoes, and to portray his holiness on screen?

What struck him most, says Cox, is that ‘there seemed to have been no single moment when Josemaria was saintly... instead, what people who knew him spoke about and wrote about was a lifetime of consistently good decisions and a dedication of his entire life to God’.  So in fact, he explains, portraying him meant being very human – and yet aware that decisions often had to be made that weren’t directed at other people, but were directed at God. Playing Josemaria is the latest step on a path that’s fast feeling like the road to the big-time: Cox first appeared on the showbiz radar in 2007 when he got the role of Tristan Thorne in the movie Stardust, and he went on to play the Duke of Crowborough in the ITV drama Downton Abbey.  And just a fortnight before we meet, he’s filmed his first episode of HBO’s prohibition drama Boardwalk Empire, the flagship programme of the new Sky Atlantic channel, in which he plays an immigrant from Northern Ireland with ties to the IRA.  Cox says he’s loving the part: Steve Buscemi, who recently won a Gold Globe award for his portrayal of Enoch ‘Nucky’ Thompson in the series, is one of his all-time heroes, and he can hardly believe his luck in being cast with him.

’Working with Steve feels amazing, I can’t believe how lucky I’ve been,’ he says, as we chat over coffee at a Madrid hotel on the morning of the premiere of There Be Dragons.  He jetted in this morning from New York – he’ll be there filming Boardwalk Empire through the summer and, he says, he can’t imagine a better way of spending the next few months. ‘They’re the nicest bunch of people – and everyone is so confident about how good the series is, so there’s a great buzz about it.’

Working on Boardwalk Empire has taken him a long way from his Sussex roots.  He grew up in Hearst Green, the son of publisher parents – and he was raised a Catholic, like his father, although he was educated at a non-Catholic independent school, Sherborne School in Dorset.  ‘Only about 70 out of 700 boys were Catholics. We had to get up early on a Sunday to go to Mass at a local girls’ school... it would have been easy to skive off it, but actually we never did.  I’ve always loved churches – even now, in a strange city, I’ll often wander around looking at churches.’ There was no history of acting in the family – bar a grandmother who had been at RADA before the second world war – but even as a youngster, Cox was smitten with the idea.  ‘My mum and dad had a fantastic attitude to it,’ he says.  ‘The school wanted me to go to university, play it in safe mode, have a back-up plan.  But my parents came to see me act, and afterwards my dad sat me down and he said: ‘I think you’d be a fool not to pursue this’.  And I don’t know whether I’d be here now if it hadn’t been for that one comment...’ Despite living in the US at the moment, and the fact that his parents spend most of their time these days in France, Cox says Britain will always be home – and he’s very close to his family.  He has a brother, and three half siblings from his father’s first marriage, and his parents have flown to see him in Madrid while he’s over for the premiere of There Be Dragons. After school, he spent a gap year working for a photographer – and even before he could take up a place at Bristol Old Vic Theatre School, he’d landed the role of Theo in the movie Dot the i.  ‘An agent took a punt on me and put me up for the part,’ he says.  ‘I’ve been incredibly lucky, and that was just one of my lucky breaks.’

But it’s not just luck – Cox is immensely likeable, and he’s obviously genuinely passionate about acting.  He’s also been smart enough to realise that he can learn a huge amount from more seasoned actors – so he saw acting alongside Robert de Niro and Michelle Pfeiffer in Stardust, for example, as a fantastic opportunity to soak up knowledge.  And he’s learnt lots more, too, from Roland Joffe, director of There Be Dragons, who was also the film-maker behind The Mission (about the early Jesuits in south America) and The Killing Fields (about the murderous Pol Pot regime in Cambodia), both of which were Oscar nominees.

‘I didn’t think twice about taking the part of Josemaria, and that was down to Roland,’ he says.  ‘He’s such a great director – he really understands the processes that actors have to go through to give their best.  I learnt so much from working with him.’

Given the subject-matter of There Be Dragons, Cox also spent time in the run-up to filming learning about Opus Dei, which has the status of a ‘personal prelature’ within the Catholic Church.  ‘I visited several Opus Dei houses, and I went on a retreat and had a lot of help from an Opus Dei priest, Fr John Wauck.’

Before he made the film, he admits, he’d never heard of Josemaria – and all he knew about Opus Dei was what he’d read in Dan Brown’s book The Da Vinci Code.  But researching Josemaria, he says, what struck him most was the saint’s humanity – and his ability, examined in the film, to forgive.  ‘It was an example I had to put into practice, because one day when we were filming I returned to my trailer to find someone had broken in and cleaned the place out completely,’ he says.  ‘They’d even taken my computer, and the charger, and even my clothes.’ ‘The following day I was due to film one of the big scenes in which Josemaria shows how he can forgive, and I remember thinking: this is really interesting.  And the thing is that I did manage to forgive the guy who nicked my stuff.’ ‘And what I realised, through that incident, was that – though we think of forgiveness as something very moral and impressive, it’s actually something that works totally in your own favour.  Because if you don’t forgive then you’re angry inside – and that anger doesn’t hurt the other person, but it really hurts you.’ Since filming finished for There Be Dragons, Cox has been working on another movie – Moby Dick, due to be released later this year – and now Boardwalk Empire.  It all suggests, I tell him, that fame – which he’s told previous interviewers frightens him – could be beckoning. ‘It’s tricky,’ he says, candidly.  ‘I’ve got friends who have gone on to extraordinary fame, and what I’ve realised through them is that it’s never quite as appealing as it promised to be. ‘On the other hand, like everyone else I want recognition.  I like people to think I’m good at what I do. That’s human nature, isn’t it?’

~*~

[charlesandmartine]

Friday 3rd April 2024

We awoke in our Pretoria hotel room to the sounds of the city. All day long the minibus taxis operating like buses ply their route in and out of the grid system of roads tooting their horns indicating there are spaces aboard. People gather at what seems as spurious places and climb aboard with minimal or no apparent hailing of the vehicle.

We had our fill of the inclusive breakfast and some perhaps non-inclusive muffins which went down well at lunch. The people we've met have all been so nice, polite and interesting. Our little waiter this morning insisted that he couldn't serve us with an Americano coffee, but could manage an Africano!

The Southern Sun hotel we were guests at were very helpful and allowed us to check out later than usual at 13:00. This gave us time to go look some more at this lovely city. So we stepped out into the cacophony that is Africa walking a km or so down to Church Square; a good starting point to see what there is to see in Pretoria. We blended in well I'd say; Ray-Bans in place, big map in left hand, smelling of sun screen, bright teeshirt, shorts, oh and white. In the time we were out, we saw no other white people! Our incognito took us eventually to the Palace of Justice where Nelson Mandela was tried in 1963. Just to be sure of our facts we asked some crime prevention officers sitting outside the building if this was the Palace of Justice. They looked blank for a moment and gave the only safe answer they could think of, I don't know. We looked for the Tourist Information office which according to the map and endorsed by the big brown sign should be in the corner of Church Square. A helpful chap suggested we try the big building behind us. Once more we were met with total astonishment at such a suggestion that there was a TI anywhere in the vicinity. So we folded the map up and made our way back towards the hotel. We watched a little band of what seemed to be blind street performers doing the African singing bit. We dug deep into the remaining pile of Rand notes that probably collectively amounted to fifty two and a half pence, and gregariously chucked some in the waiting pot enjoying the extremely jolly rhythmic singing. Next I find myself in the place I had earlier successfully avoided having my shoes cleaned and polished. Without warning my left shoe suddenly was engulfed in white foam perpetrated by a very helpful fellow carrying a can of spray polish. Now what options do you have when one shoe has all the attributes of a snow ball and the other retains the hue of the dusty outback. The process had to continue and the fellow appeared quite satisfied with the result, at least until I proffered some more of this toy money they have here. Too small he said despite the fact that his labour had been unsolicited. We came to a common understanding as I exercised my sparkling shoes quickly down the road in the general direction of the hotel. What an enjoyable taste of Africa!

ps Yesterday when we arrived at our hotel we sat outside by the pool and could not help overhearing a very long instructional call a 'Life Coach' was making to a client. He explained that he was extremely excited and passionate about being part of this person's journey as he transitions from being a man to a woman and to help shape their vision regarding how they saw themselves in five years time and what sort of man they might be looking for, but all that starts from within themselves! He went on and on and on and there were times I couldn't quite hear it all as I searched for a bucket! He did also mention his book quite a few times throughout the conversation.

pps We positioned ourselves by the pool again hoping we would receive some more essential information from the 'Life Coach'. Sadly he wasn't here today so lesson two will be missing from my portfolio.

ppps Just spoken to Phil Spencer in Johannesburg airport. We complimented him on his excellent program.

[buttercupsandboys]

The Pickpocket - Alfie x Reader ❄️

Hello and Merry Christmas! 🎄 This is my super last minute contribution to @raincoffeeandfandoms Christmas Fic Event!

I haven’t written in a while (it’s been so long that I can’t even get onto Tumblr from my laptop 🙈) so I’m posting this from my phone. So please excuse if:

My writing is a bit rusty

The formatting is horrible (will try and fix later!)

Request: Alfie x Reader, hurt/comfort

Warnings: mild smut and angst (I hope!)

Summary: Sometimes life doesn’t go as planned, but with big risks come big rewards.

Word count: 2150

Camden Town, 1907

She wasn’t Jewish, and his mother would never approve, but fuck, she was beautiful.

Y/N had large eyes, like a puppy, framed by long thick lashes. Eyes you could lose yourself in.

And Alfie did.

She was a thief. A pickpocket and a good one too. But seeing as what Alfie did for a living wasn’t exactly legal, he didn’t hold it against her.

It didn’t hurt that she stuck to her own people.

In fact, Y/N seemed to find a certain joy in stealing from the Sunday crowds as they emptied from the churches like rain from the heavens.

Alms for the poor, she liked to say.

At nineteen, Alfie wasn’t a virgin, which meant he knew enough to worry for his young friend.

Although, in truth, he wasn’t sure about her age. Life on the streets made people cold, hard and brittle beyond their years.

But then Y/N’s eyes…

Those big, beautiful eyes would be a blessing had she been born to a wealthy family. He imagined her sheltered and protected while batting those long lashes at a line of potential suitors.

But there was no wealthy family.

There wasn’t any family.

Which left no one but Alfie to worry when those innocent eyes would get her into trouble.

Someone would take her.

Or maybe one day, too many pockets would turn up empty, and she would make a choice he didn’t like to think about.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Alfie grumbled as he watched Y/N slip through the crowds like sand through an hourglass. She flashed a wide grin as she approached, slyly presenting him with a silver pocket watch. He wasn’t impressed. “I saw him, Y/N. He was a big fucker. You’re taking too many risks, pet.”

“The bigger the risk, the bigger the reward,” Y/N teased, slipping a hand along the inside of his arm. It wasn’t proper, but it always made him stand a bit taller. “Don’t go soft on me, Alfie.”

He scoffed. “Someone needs to go hard on you. That’s the problem.”

Y/N stopped and spun around, looking him straight in the eye despite their considerable height difference.

“And that’s gonna be you one day, Alfie?”

He shifted uncomfortably, straining against his trousers, and wondered if Y/N knew what she did to him.

“Damn fucking straight.”

He saw her the next morning, dancing in the snow.

“It’s fucking cold, Y/N.”

“It’s fucking beautiful, Alfie.”

The holidays were approaching, and while neither cared much for tradition, there was no denying something in the air.

A festive spirit, you might call it.

As Alfie watched her catch snowflakes with her tongue, cheeks pink from the cold, he wondered if he could scrape together enough for a gift.

But Y/N would sell whatever he brought her.

Bread then.

“Alfie! Alfie, open up.”

Alfie groaned as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. His small flat was bitterly cold despite his mum’s attempt to warm it before leaving for the day.

He rolled over and decided to ignore the knocking.

“C’mon Alfie, it’s me. Hurry up.”

Sigh.

“Yeah, alright. Just a fucking minute.” He lumbered across the room and yanked the door open. “The fuck you want, Ollie—“

The words died on his lips when he saw her.

Y/N was half-conscious in Ollie’s scrawny arms, her eyes glassy and skin flushed. Alfie rushed forward to take her from him, cradling her small body against his broad chest and wrapping her in his warmth.

“I had a delivery this morning and saw her down by Bonny Street. I didn’t know where else to take her.”

Alfie cursed under his breath. “She told me she had a place to stay for a while with some girls by the docks.”

“Maybe she found trouble?” Ollie offered.

“You think?” Alfie snapped.

He tried to keep his temper under control, but he could feel it bubbling under his skin. He was angry at Ollie, angry at himself, angry at the fucking world. She was alone and sick, and what the fuck could he do for her?

“She needs a doctor.”

“You’re just full of helpful advice this morning, ain’t ya?”

They both knew there was no money for doctors.

Alfie pulled back his blanket and gently laid her on his bed, brushing a dark curl from her forehead. Y/N slowly opened her eyes.

He tried not to lose himself.

“There you are, sweetheart. How ya feeling?”

Y/N smiled softly but didn’t respond. Her eyes closed again, and his heart dropped. She was fucking freezing.

Ollie left for work as Alfie gathered blankets, his coat, anything and everything he could find to warm her, which wasn’t much. He stoked the fire and held her hand, silently urging her to wake up.

But then the shaking started.

“Y/N,” Alfie murmured, running his strong hands over the threadbare blanket, cringing at her tremors. She was so thin and so, so cold.

He knew what he had to do.

Hoping his mum wouldn’t surprise them by stopping home between jobs, Alfie stripped off his shirt and climbed into bed. Y/N curled into him, burying her face in his chest, her breath coming in shallow pants against his bare skin.

Alfie froze, panicking because she felt so right, but everything about this was so wrong, and he wanted so badly for her to wake the fuck up.

Because what would he do if she didn’t?

He closed his eyes and gave in, threading his fingers through her hair, pressing her closer, breathing her in.

They laid that way for hours, his heart swelling as she alternated between cold sweats and feverish chills.

And he prayed.

Her fever broke just before midnight. A Christmas miracle, she would call it. Somehow Alfie managed to scrape together enough for a room where Y/N could stay while she recovered.

The next day, a job went south.

Alfie was given a choice: serve his sentence or serve the Crown.

He enlisted shortly after.

France, 1917

The line wrapped around the block, and it should have disgusted him. It would have once; men lined up like cattle to rut with a few tired whores.

But after three years on the front, what was a cheap fuck next to the blood and the mud?

Nothing shocked him anymore.

Still, Alfie thought about leaving. He only had three days leave for the holidays, and he was bone fucking tired. The thought of a warm, clean bed was almost as tempting as getting his cock sucked.

Almost.

With a sigh, he dragged his muddy boots down the lane until a buxom Frenchwoman, looking equally weary beneath her thick makeup, accepted his money and directed him down the hall.

“Twenty minutes, monsieur!” she called out after him.

Alfie nodded but didn’t look back, keeping his eyes down as he opened the creaky door, grimacing at the smell of sex and stale cigarettes. He prayed she was quiet; he was in no mood for mindless conversation.

“A-Alfie?”

His head snapped up, and he froze.

She was older, but her eyes were exactly the same.

He tried not to lose himself.

“Y/N?” he whispered as his mind rushed to catch up. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away.

Alfie stepped forward, and his fingers reached for her, but it was like a dream, like reaching for the stars. His hand fell to his side when she didn’t answer.

“Y/N?” he repeated, his tone harsher than intended.

“What do you think?” she finally snapped, stepping forward and looking him straight in the eye despite their considerable height difference. “Why do you think I’m here?” she asked, softer this time.

Alfie had the decency to blush, feeling like a fool as he put together the obvious. One of his greatest fears had come to life. He wanted to apologise but thought better of it.

“Take a seat, pet. Let’s talk. It’s been a long time.”

“Talk?” Y/N laughed, and his heart ached because she looked so much like the girl he once knew. “You only get twenty minutes, Alfie. The madame is a strict one. Best make the most of it.”

“Fuck off, Y/N—“

She cut him off by stepping forward, gently tracing the scar on his cheek, still fresh, the skin raw and angry.

“You’re exactly the same, Alfie,” Y/N whispered, pushing the straps of her flimsy gown down her shoulders, wiggling as it slid over her hips, leaving her bare.

Alfie swallowed thickly, unable to look away.

“Always trying to take care of me,” she continued, pressing a soft kiss against his jaw, her breath warm, familiar. “How about this time, you let me take care of you.”

He groaned as their lips met, still fighting with himself. After all these years, he still dreamt of her, still thought of her small body pressed tightly against his.

Not like this, though.

But nothing shocked him anymore.

Y/N pulled his shirt over his head, and when he felt her bare skin against his, he stopped thinking. Nothing mattered, nothing but this.

After ten years, they had twenty minutes.

His calloused hands—the dirt embedded in his knuckles, under his nails, no matter how hard he scrubbed—traced down her spine to cup her bottom, pulling her tighter as his lips traced hers. Y/N whined against him, a sound full of so much longing his heart nearly broke, but then she found him, sliding her hand down the front of his trousers, and he caught himself matching her, note for note.

It had been so long since he touched anyone without intending to take their life. Now he was here with Y/N, and she was stroking him, sliding his trousers down his narrow hips as she led him to the bed. Alfie fell on top of her as she wrapped her legs around him, open and inviting, giving all of herself and asking nothing in return.

He cried out when he entered her, burying his face in her shoulder, his eyes stinging because it had been so fucking long. Now he finally felt at home—and how the fuck was he supposed to go out and fight a war after this?

But Y/N seemed to understand.

She wrapped him in her arms, arched her hips, and whispered the words he needed to hear. And when it was all too much, when the pleasure overwhelmed him, and he couldn’t hold back his release any longer, she fucked him through it, cradling his body, accepting him, scars and all.

Afterwards, they lay in silence, the clock ticking.

“Y/N,” Alfie said when his heart finally slowed enough for him to speak. “After the war—“

“Alfie, no.”

He raised his head, feeling confused, and ignored her.

“Y/N, when we get—“

“Alfie, stop!”

She pressed a thin finger against his full lips.

“Don’t make me any promises,” she whispered. “Hope only makes it worse.”

Alfie opened his mouth to protest but was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Their twenty minutes was up.

Camden Town, 1921

Fuck, he hated the cold. It irritated his sciatica, and he had no choice but to lean heavily on his cane.

“Ollie!” He barked, feeling old beyond his years. “Make it fucking quick.”

Alfie checked his watch and grumbled under his breath about the time before slipping it back in his pocket. He was eager to return to the bakery—a shipment was going out—but Ollie insisted they drop off their annual donation in person.

On account of Hanukkah and all...

But Alfie wasn’t in the festive spirit.

What the fuck was this idiot doing?

It was late. The shipment was delayed, and Alfie was in a foul fucking mood. He wanted nothing more than to hurry home to his big empty bed and sleep off the day.

But someone was dancing in the streets, holding up traffic.

He pressed loudly on the horn and cursed.

“Ollie!” Alfie roared.

His assistant popped his head around the corner, somewhat hesitantly, knowing his friend-turned-boss and recognising his bad temper.

“Yes, Alfie?”

“Have you seen my fucking watch?”

Ollie raised a brow in confusion. “Your watch?”

Alfie exploded. “Yes, Ollie. My fucking watch. It tells the time.” He patted his pockets helplessly. “It’s always fucking here, and now it’s not.”

Ollie opened his mouth, but before he could respond, a melodic voice floated in from the hall.

“It was a bit risky. You are a big fucker.”

Alfie’s jaw dropped as she walked through the door, Ollie taking one look between them and making a quick exit.

“But you know what they say,” Y/N continued, slowly walking around the desk and smiling. “The bigger the risk, the bigger the reward.”

She had large eyes, like a puppy, framed by long thick lashes. Eyes you could lose yourself in.

And Alfie did.

The end ❄️

[dreamboundedstar]

Bob's Burgers Zeke x Tina Head Canons and Story Scene Ideas.

I'm separating headcanons and ideas because the headcanons are more solid in their stance while the ideas are just shaky story scenes that I think would be cool to do but I'm not sure if I would be into it being my main line headcanon.

Headcanons:

1. While Tina is still dating Jimmy Jr. She tries to apologize to Zeke for being so hostile towards him at the beginning. She admits that she was jealous of how close he was with Jimmy Jr even though she knew him longer, how he seemed to thrive at everything that she hoped to be good at, and how despite being obnoxious, loud, rough, and gross he still was able to get nearly everyone to like him. Meanwhile, she struggled with being tolerated by her Wagstaff peers that weren't her siblings.

Zeke thinks it’s insane that Tina could be jealous of him when he’s jealous of her. Zeke wish he had Tina’s life with parents that aren’t divorced and siblings he could he could hang out with all the time. Not to mention Tina had years to develop the relationships she has with people. Zeke’s family moved around a lot so he had no choice but to make a quick impression on people because he never knows when he’s going to move away again. Even if Tina thinks she has no friends, she always had her Gene and Louise to turn to; Zeke had no one in his family because they were either too old/busy to bother with him, too young to even walk, or only visits for a little while because they live in another state.

Tina grows to appreciate Zeke more after this conversation and officially sees him as a friend rather than Jimmy Jr’s friend that she just has to learn to live with and has mixed feelings over the fact that he has a crush on her.

2. Zeke becomes Louise and Gene’s plan B (or Z for the initial humor) whenever Tina is down in the dumps after Jimmy Jr cancels a date last minute (That is if Zeke isn’t the one Jay Ju canceled on Tina for already). Just a platonic get together so Tina can get her mind off of how much of a jerk Jay Ju is being again. (Kind of like Peppermint Patty forcing Charlie Brown to go to the fair with her so she can help him gets his mind off Snoopy leaving for his original owner in in “Snoopy, Come Home”)

3. Tina succeeds getting Zeke into The Equestranauts series and Zeke unironically talks about the show in the open with her whenever she brings up first.

4. Tina is the first to join Zeke and Peter’s Women Issues Group to help support her friend.

5. Let’s face it, probably one of the reasons Zeke has a crush on Tina is because she probably has some of the biggest boobs in their grade (not the biggest but one of the biggest anyway). It’s not the only reason, but we can’t deny it’s not part of the reason. Zeke being a boob guy is part of his character and we just have to deal with it like we have to deal with Tina being a butt gal. Darn hormonal teenagers! Lol (Heck I should have named my Zekina Beauty and the Beast idea, Booty and the Breast XD)

6. Tina basically becomes 50% of Zeke’s impulse control while everyone else holds the other half of his impulse control which is dangerous since one of the holders of the other 50 percent is Louise.

7. Tina learns to put her foot down more and not be as easily influenced by Louise thanks to Zeke’s help (which also helps in turn to help her be more solid in her being 50 percent of Zeke’s impulse control).

8. When Zeke and Tina get together, Zeke loves giving pda and Tina loves receiving it, but she tries to not overdo it so she isn’t responsible for her family losing business by being too obnoxious with their affection.

9. When they start dating, it’s easier for Tina to count the times Zeke doesn’t have one of his arms around her or hold her hand than it is when he does.

10. Zeke and Tina get married on the beach. Though, they joke about getting married at the aquarium due to it being a church once.

11.  After their first time together Tina calls Zeke Zbee assuming that all this time Tbird was just the first letter of her name and a reference to the birds and the bees and had no idea Tbird was short for the name of a car. Zeke got a lot of mileage out of that one (no pun intended)

12. Wrasslin’ is Zeke and Tina’s euphemism for hanky panky, Louise and Gene teases them every now and then about it once they found out.

13. Zeke handles the money related problems in the relationship because he is better at math in comparison to Tina, not the best but still better than Tina.

14. Their first child will be named Daniel or Danielle (depending which gender on I choose) either way the kid will be nicknamed Dani

15. What Zeke loves most about Tina is how she’s always full of surprises. She can be a weird, sweet, insecure, do gooder nerd one moment and the next a fearless, troublemaking badass. A strange anomaly wrapped in a mystery that he wants to solve.

16. What Tina loves most about Zeke is the fact that he really believes she’s this interesting, unsolvable mystery. The girl from her inner world she wishes she was is someone that Zeke already believes she is and she never wants to lose that.

17. Zeke and Tina tried to help set up Saucy up on hermit crab dates at one point, but it didn’t work out. You can’t force love in the wild.

18. Zeke probably hates robots because they keep taking the jobs his family applies to and forcing them to move. Either that or he saw the Terminator too young and now is scarred for life.

19. I can see Zeke reading an erotic friend fiction at one point and leaving the review, “Hot stuf Tbird! Cud use more boobies tho ;].” Tomatina (tomato faced tina) appears after that. (Yes Zeke also spells bad XD)

20. Because of his wrestling background, he probably has the potential to give good massages. Tina certainly would want to put that to the test as soon as possible when they are married.

21. Tina makes it her mission to get the best gift for Zeke every birthday and Christmas. Zeke likes to tease her about it and make it a challenge for her to figure it out. It’s frustrating but she knows he only does it to make the point he’ll love whatever she gets him no matter what, as long as it’s not a robot of any kind.

22. Back to when they were teenagers, Tina and Zeke probably used his hidey hole a lot to privately console each other and talk about their current issues troubling them once they became closer friends.

Shaky fanfiction scene ideas (but I’ll still format it as the headcanon list even though the majority of the numbers are part of one story narrative):

1. Everyone comments about how close Zeke and Tina’s friendship has gotten which both deny and Tina feels that Zeke’s that way too everyone because of his personality. Even Jimmy Jr. is a bit threatened by how close Zeke and Tina are now even though Zeke never and will never cross a line. Jimmy Jr. honestly preferred when Tina hated Zeke because he knows how easily she falls in love with guys that are nice to her (especially ones she knows has a crush on her). Tina would of course be insulted by how little Jimmy Jr trusts her loyalty to their relationship.

2. Tina breaks up with Jimmy Jr. after high school when she realizes he’s never going to fully commit to promising her to be faithful during a long distance relationship. Jimmy Jr. and Zeke’s friendship falls apart as well when Zeke chooses to go to comfort Tina first before JJ.

3. She takes a break from dating for a while after the Jimmy Jr. heart break. After her date break, despite the chemistry she feels with Zeke, she will still continue to date other guys before she’s ready to acknowledge her feelings. Zeke’s also has his fair share of dates with other girls as well. They like to laugh over their failed dates and help each other move on.

4. Tina leaves to go to college to become a novelist. She’s delighted to see Dillon and Susmita to be going to the same college and thanks the heavens above that she may finally have a friend group to call her own that’s not terrible to her. Unfortunately, her personal hell comes true when finds out she’s roommates with Tammy Larsen.

5. To afford to go to college, Zeke tries to join the navy but they reject him because of his ADHD. His dad kicks him out at 18. So with nowhere to go he offers to work at Bob’s Burgers for a place to sleep until he can find a job and his own place to stay. Zeke is right at home with the Belcher family and is delighted that Bob is willing to teach other things besides burgers upstairs in the Belcher kitchen. This confirms to Zeke even more that he wants to go to culinary school.

6. Zeke and Tina would still text each other a lot when Tina is away in college (Tina would eventually get her own phone that’s not only for emergency before college, don’t ask me how XD). No way is Zeke going to let Tina and him become estranged, much to Tammy’s annoyance (a girl’s gotta sleep sometimes lol) and massive jealousy.

7.  On summer break of college, Tina would visit her family home. She as well as Zeke would be shocked by all the changes their bodies and attire went through while they were apart. Zeke would lift her up in a big, bear hug to greet his good friend and push down the funny feelings in his tummy while everybody else joins in on the hug.

8. The sexual tension in the air would be so thick that it would need a chainsaw to break it apart. Louise and Gene would have fun with making it worse while Tina is home.

9. Jimmy Jr. would also be back in town during Tina’s summer break. Tina would be lying if she said that Jimmy Jr didn’t take care of himself well as well. Jimmy Jr would happen to be single at the time and also found Tina she aged gracefully too. Jimmy Jr. would ask her to dinner with him to catch up. Knowing full well he is trying to do, Tina agrees to go. Zeke finds out about Tina seeing Jimmy Jr and tell her to have a nice time even though he’s dying inside. He can’t force her to love him, so why try to stop her from who she wants to be with more.

While Tina goes to meet up with Jay Ju, Zeke “borrows” some beer to ease the pain of letting go. Louise would find everything out and slap some sense into a drunken Zeke. Whether she admits it or not, she’s on team Zeke and there’s no way she would let Tina let Jimmy Jr hurt her again or see her practically adopted brother be sad over this easily fixable thing.

Louise would remind Zeke that him and JJ aren’t friends anymore so what is stopping him from barging in to the restaurant telling Tina that he wants her bad and killing JJ. Even in his drunken state Zeke wouldn’t want to kill JJ, but he would agree with Louise that he’s been playing it safe in the friendship for too long and it’s time to rock the boat.

When Louise and Zeke make it to the restaurant, Tina would already be leaving the place looking like she did something very cathartic. It would be revealed that Tina basically only agreed to meet up with JJ again just to make it clear to him that she outgrew him and that there’s no chance that they will ever get back together again after everything he put her through, that and get a free meal.

Louise would be proud of her sister to finally overcome the JJP drug while also pushing Zeke to say what he went there to say. Zeke nerves and drunken state would get the better of him and he would zoom to the nearest trash can to barf. After an awkward ride of silence home, Tina would help give Zeke water until he would be sober enough to talk things over.

Zeke would pour his heart out that he still holds a torch for Tina and never stopped even when they were doing great as just friends. He wanted to tell her so much sooner but it was never the right time. Then when Tina came back for summer, he thought fate finally gave him and Tina a chance to start something.  That is until Jimmy Jr popped in back to town at the worst possible time. He was so heartbroken that he thought he missed his shot again that he was going to drink the pain away until Louise stopped his pity party.

He would say screw it whether it was the right or wrong time to say it because he’s done staying silent just so the next long necked Casanova can come and steal her heart while he just learns to live with it. If Tina still didn’t want to give him a chance, he would be fine with that, but at least he got what he needed off of his chest. His only hope now would be that if Tina did reject his confession they would still be friends.

It would be Tina’s turn to get something out of her hand and give it to Zeke, it was an after dinner mint from the restaurant. Tina would tease him that she didn’t want to kiss someone with barf breath. Zeke never would have dreamed that he would be trying to suck through a mint so fast.

Their kiss would be soft and innocent at the start but get more and more intimate once Tina wordlessly gives Zeke permission to do so. Years of unreciprocated love pouring out and being shared by one another and it makes them both feel like the only people in the world that matter to each other for a moment.

10. After they become official, Jimmy Jr apologizes to both of them for real this time and hopes that one day maybe they could all be friends again. Not wanting to hold any grudges, Zeke and Tina want to bury the hatchet with Jimmy Jr. but make it clear they aren’t pals yet and they want to see that Jimmy Jr. earns their trust first.

Okay, that’s all that I have stored up in my brain for ZekexTina headcanons and fanfiction ideas (which is basically just a bunch of scenes that form into one big story honestly, I’m not very good at making my ideas small XD)

Okay here’s a bonus headcanon for Gene. His favorite song from Veggietales is Barbara Manatee and thus formed his attraction to the manatee puppet in that ship kidnapped episode.

[kalcifers-blog]

MAG 114209: The IRIS of The Eye

A JSE Ego x TMA Crossover fanfic

Content Warning!! Discussions of violence, self inflicted injury and insinuation of suicidal behaviour. Nothing is in graphic detail, but please stay safe while reading!!

[Tape Recorder clicks]

The Archivist: (sighs) Alright, let's try this again shall we-

Chase Brody: oh for fu- is that really necessary? Why do you people all insist on recording people??

The Archivist: oh- sorry this is just- procedure. It's kind of my job to make sure statements are recorded properly- unless you don't- want- to make a statement?

Chase: (interrupted the last sentence) No- no. I'm sorry- I just- I need to do this I think. I'm not exactly sure what this place is but... I think- somethin' tells me that this is the place to get this out there somehow

The Archivist: I see.. well. Whenever you're ready, we can begin

Chase: (deep breath) okay. Yeah I'm ready.

The Archivist: Alright. Statement of Chase Brody regarding the entity referred to as ALTR 114209. Statement taken directly from sub- from Mr. Brody himself. Statement overseen and recorded by Jonathan Sims. The Archivist. Statement begins:

Chase: [statement]

I feel like I can't really talk about this without some context first? I grew up in Ireland- you- you probably already guessed that because of the accent- but yeah. I'm from Ireland. My life there was miserable. I grew up in a small town. One of those classic "everyone knows everyone" schticks. Mostly because my Ma insisted on going to the local church to do all her socialising- I went there too consistently 'til she passed. I was 15 at the time.

Before she did I was convinced I wanted her out of my life, we never got along- I'm not saying that I completely change my mind now it's just- when someone like that leaves your life forever you start thinking about "what could have been" far more often. When she did pass I knew I wanted out- I needed to get away so I saved up my scraps of money to go to college in Britain. Maybe I wanted to get away or run from my feelings- I just. The way everyone would look at me, knowing what I was going through, giving me these- disgusting looks of pity- I needed out. I needed a get away.

So I moved. My Father didn't care too much, the man was out half the time for work and when he wasn't his hand was glued to his ale. I told myself I wouldn't end up like that- miserable sack of shit but- (chuckles sadly) I- I guess things don't always go to plan, huh?

Anyway- My life did start turnin' around when I got to the UK. The college I went too was pretty mediocre but the people I met were some of the most incredible- the person who changed my life forever in ways I couldn't have ever imagined was Jack.

Jack was my first friend- after realising we where both Irish and kinda had a really uncanny similarity to us, everyone always joked that we had to be twins because of how similar we looked. Despite the fact I'm nearly four years older than him- anyway uh- he got me into gaming.

I'd played games before of course but, this was the first time I played proper video games, especially the horror games, my Ma tried convincin me anything to do with horror was born out of evil and well- actually playing them for the first time was really eye opening as to how stupid that idea was.

I know this all sounds like useless information but I promise it's important- what you need to know is that Jack was my best friend. He introduced me to things that would be some of my favourite things ever, he was there when I got with and broke up with my first boyfriend and through everything, all of those disgusting sides of how bad my mental health got, Jack was one of the only ones who stuck by my side. So when he asked me to be his editor when his YouTube career took off I didn't think twice about saying yes.

I don't think I need to tell you about the successful YouTuber Jacksepticeye- and how he's the largest ever YouTuber from Ireland- how he managed to accumulate millions of subscribers before his disappearance on Halloween of 2016.

Of course, now I know that video that was put up on his channel that wasn't uploaded by me or him and definitely wasn't edited by myself wasn't actually a fake.

No one knew what to make of "Say Goodbye" when it first released. For me I was confused- Jack obviously can edit videos on his own, in fact its pretty common for him to do so- but he always lets me know if he does. There's never been an occasion in which he didn't in the entire time I was working for him. So when that video dropped with no warning I immediately felt off about it.

I won't tell you what happened in that video. You don't need to hear the details of Jack seemingly hurting himself to the point that he was placed in a medically induced coma- I was watching the video itself when I got the call- his doctor- German if I had to guess from his accent, calling me to let me know and to ask me some questions, due to the nature of his injury.

I don't care who comes in to tell you. Jack did not try to kill himself. I refuse to believe he ever would. Jack like I mentioned, was more than my boss, he was my closest friend and we told each other everything. There was just. Nothing. Not a single thing to indicate in his life that he would ever want to hurt himself like that.

I ended up staying in contact with the German doctor, his name's Henrik Schneeplestien- really nice actually. And it was talking to him that I got an email from Jack's account. Not his business "Jacksepticeye" account- his personal one, the one I knew he used exclusively for things that where for his personal life.

When I got that email my blood froze over. It was a video. It was that video. But it was longer. There was more to it. Instead of Jack's body lying there- lifeless and bleeding out. It jerked. It jerked upwards- like his muscles and joints where all connected to strings and being hoisted up against his will, like a fucking puppet.

The thing wearing Jacks dying body laughed. It laughed tormenting us- Henrik started believeing me after watching it with me the first time.

I'll spare you the details of how my life derailed after that. The months of waiting for Jack to wake up. Of Henrik losing his mind trying to understand what's going on. The disappearance of both Jack's body and Henrik himself. Me finding the most beautiful woman on the planet and finally feeling like a person again with her. Only for her and our child to be ripped away from me by that fucking thing that insisted on destroying everything in my life that gave living meaning.

Every time something bad happened it was there, still wearing Jack's face. Puppeting him around with this wicked smirk it had some crude inside joke I wasn't apart of.

I lost everything. My friend was gone, my wife and child where dead, the only person who ever cared to hear me out was missing and to top it all off I had some demon wannabe kicking my skull into rock bottom. Just so I knew that my misery wasn't over.

I had enough. I drove myself to a forest, it was our favourite place to go to as a family in the short 3 years we got to be a family. I wasn't planning on leaving that day. I decided then and there that I wasn't having it anymore. I was done. That thing won. I gave in and I just wanted it to be over.

I still can't tell you what happened to me. But I was in the forest one second and the next I was on top of a parking garage miles away. Whatever happened to me, I knew it was the only weird thing that wasn't brought to me because of that fucking monster. I still don't know what- but I just. I just KNOW alright. I just. Know.

Anyway, not long after that I'm detained by IRIS. Your institute already have all the information you need on that fucking place. I was there for questioning about what happened to me that day. And my experiences with the thing thats been destroying my life. There wasn't anything more to say other than what I've already told you.

They where about to put me under "special containment" dragging me against my will further in the building. The whole building felt like it was screaming at me to leave- that something bad was going to happen- I wished I was wrong.

That thing came back. It was still wearing my friends face and it killed any and all workers that came close to it. All it said to me was "hello, Chase" before I blacked out. I don't remember how I somehow managed to wake up in London- or how this nagging voice in my brain told me to come here. I don't know what "ALTR 114209" is, why it decided I was going to be it's plaything or what it even is. I just....

I just need someone to know that this thing is out there and more people will die if IRIS continues the way it has done for years now.

[Statement Ends]

Chase: (deep sigh) Jesus- I- How'd you- how did you get me to do that-

The Archivist: trust me, that's a long story- I just. I'm sorry are you insinuating that IRIS is somehow- responsible? For the actions of this entity?

Chase: yeah I thought I made that pretty fucking obvious man. IRIS has done nothing but hide the truth from me, borderline torture me and do absolute jack shit when something bad happens to anyone- including their own workers mind you.

The Archivist: Okay well... Fair enough. But please be cautious, if IRIS is behind all of this. You don't want to talk about it here, not in a place like this

Chase: oh just because your boss is watching doesn't mean I have to worry about him snitching to the SCP ripoff

The Archivist: wait- what did you jus- how did you- do you. (Whispering) Do you know that Elias Bouchard is listening and can see everyone in the building- there's no way for you to of....

The Archivist: Oh..... I see.. Chase I- I think I know why you might be a target-

Chase: (quietly) wh.. what- what do you mean by that..?

The Archivist: let me get you a drink. This will take a long time to explain.

[Tape Recorder clicks off]

That's all!! Thank you SM if you read through this, I'm very new to writing fanfic so I hope that this is alright!! A lot of people really liked the idea of a crossover between JSE lore and TMA so of course I had to write up how I imagine Chase Brody's Statement.

Again thank you SM for all the support and I hope to get some more drawing/writing done soon!! <333

[thenightlymirror]

The last year of living by myself has really made me feel like maybe I could live anywhere. I really wasn’t sure. My life is entirely my job now. When I go to see friends, it’s just the people who hired me.

I am a little surprised how few people I know despite the fact that I basically live in the same city I’ve lived in all my life. I go out on the weekend to get a slice of pizza, and other than the kids working behind the counter, it’s just me. Sitting in my car in the parking lot, it’s just me. Napping in my easy chair in my apartment for two days waiting for Monday, just me.

When I was feeling woozy and nearly passed out alone in my apartment two months ago, I drove myself to the ER in the hopes that I wouldn’t have a stroke and crash on the way there. Nothing happened. I just got fed up after waiting in the lobby for an hour and a half and drove back home, and felt woozy for another week or so after.

I just finally had some tests done and I’m fine. I’m very anemic. But, I think I probably just had inner ear vertigo from being out in the cold for several hours the day before.

A digression on anxiety. I know I spent about a year of my life being gaslit that I wasn’t dying when I was, but I feel like maybe I can account for some of my ailments as just anxiety if I can expand the term to include more than I intuit.

I know what anxiety feels like, I assume. An anxious person is easy to spot. Flittering about. Second guessing. Hesitating. Picky. Makes things difficult and needs things to be their specific way which sometimes makes them an asshole with or without any self-awareness of this fact.

I have a certain thing that happens to me, where I feel some ineffable problem coming on, like I’m going to lose control of my leg, or my arm. I imagine a blood clot roaming around, in my gut, in my neck, my eye. Losing focus briefly and thinking, “It’s in my brain now.” I woke up twice before my pulmonary embolism with my leg paralyzed. I think what I imagine is that I’m about to lose some part of my body from the map of my mind. Nothing ever happens. I guess that one time I felt like I was going to fall down, but I didn’t. For several days, I felt almost stoned. Like my consciousness was just “off”.

Is that anxiety? Maybe.

It could just be that my anxiety manifests itself in this very specific worry. It isn’t necessarily Multiple Sclerosis.

I’m when I felt that strange vertigo, I just told myself, keep walking, nothing will happen. And nothing did. After another two weeks (two weeks!) it went away.

I know there’s other things. I supposedly have social anxiety, though no one has ever seen it. When I had a therapist, she said my alienation from other people was trauma from being bullied as a kid. Otherwise groundless. Could you imagine? Anthony Cox has no grounds for feeling alienated from other people. He just has trauma from being bullied as a child. What if that was true? Could you imagine?

That makes me think of the last time I saw my brother’s wife. She was with us in Wisconsin when I went canoeing with my parents and some of their friends down the Namekagon River. She’s my parents’ age, scientist. (Church of Christ, Scientist.) Smarter than most people. She had no problem talking to my parents’ friends from the bar. Sports or TV or whatever. I hardly remember. But I tend to be sort of quiet and miserable in those situations. I really don’t want to be, or come off that way. This is almost ten years ago now. I don’t feel any differently now.

But my brother’s wife’s impression was that I’m insecure because I’m fat. Haha. You know, that her grandma was fat, and everyone loved her. So I shouldn’t feel so bad about it. Hahaha I DON’T. Hahahah I have never known anything else. I know my perception of human nature is probably a bit different from most people’s because I have never been treated nicely just because I was good looking to anyone. Amazing to me that anyone on Earth exists that can take this for granted, but it’s actually most people. Most people walk into situations with strangers and the strangers do not secretly find them horrifying. They walk into situations and 20% of the time, someone could imagine having sex with them. Or something like that. Some people might walk into situations and most people treat them nicely because they would like the opportunity to fuck them, or respect the fact that other people would want to fuck them. Absolutely wild to me.

But most people aren’t totally fascist or so victimized that they are ever even conscious of this. Every once in a while they just see an unpleasant looking person, cross themselves, and put it out of their minds.

Anyways. All I know is that most people bore me to death, and this boredom is, worst case scenario, probably something that precedes people and their interests. My boredom comes first, and it finds reasons later. I become interested in things that are obscure and I like them because no one notices them. And then I feel isolated when no one can relate.

But I’m not sure I’m even interested in things anymore. Culturally, Harper is interested in pretty basic stuff. Star Wars and anime and stuff. But she can have a conversation about anthropology or linguistics or music theory or Palestine. That means a lot to me. It feels like I live in the same universe.

Or, the other thing. I’ve been listening to Otherworld and just constantly in this paranoid twilight zone where I feel the schizophrenic color of life turned way up all the time lately. Is that just anxiety? A very specific kind of anxiety. But I’m just some kind of snowflake and I think my anxiety is special? I’ve got 12-dimensional anxiety.

I guess I feel a deep loneliness around people who don’t feel any anxiety. What the fuck is wrong with them? And I don’t even like to feel vain anxiety. I’m pretty chill honestly. The world’s just fucked and I’m pretty calm about it, considering. Sometimes people channel this anxiety into very specific vices and scapegoats and that can be boring too.

I try to be very tolerant and forgiving with all of it. I think there’s other people alive in this world, somewhere, a lot less tolerant and much more happy than myself. Never the twain shall meet. Some other universe, these people. A little self-respect and a lot of petty snobbery and they’re living off pure sweet fat of the hog, posting liberal memes on facebook somewhere. Drinking at the bar watching the Lion’s game. Doing the same shit as everyone else anyway.

[moviemunchies]

Mark Wahlberg plays a priest.

Okay, then.

Alright he’s not actually a priest for the majority of the movie. Father Stu tells the story of Stuart Long, a boxer who finds his career cut short after finding that his body can only take so much more punishment. Long decides to move to Hollywood and become an actor, which sadly goes about as well as it does for most randos that try to make that transition. He meets a woman he instantly falls in love with while working at the grocery store, Carmen, but she only dates Catholics, so he converts for her. After a life-changing accident, Stu decides that he’s called to become a priest. Life has more surprises planned for him in the form of a rare incurable muscular disorder, making an already uphill battle even more difficult.

This movie was pretty large in the online Catholic world when it came out? The Catholic Talk Show podcast had an episode in which they interviewed Wahlberg and another about priests in movies. There was some discussion about how we classify this as a Catholic movie if it’s got so much swearing in it (and to be clear, there is a LOT), and how this compares to other movies, religious and otherwise. I had thought about seeing it for a while, and it was Netflix so I figured, why not?

If I had a problem with the movie it was that it is two hours and it isn’t until halfway through that Stu decides he’s going to be a priest. I was under the impression that the movie was about Stu as a priest, and that’s not really the film’s subject. Father Stu is more about the man’s life and how he came to become a priest. Which is fine! But I was expecting something different, so when it’s not until the very end that he becomes a priest, I was a little disappointed. I’ll fully admit that’s a Me Thing, not the movie’s fault, but I want to put that out there in case anyone else was confused.

The movie takes liberties with the subject’s life, if Wikipedia is anything to go by. I’m half a mind on this–for a subject as serious as this, I would think it might be better to stick as close to the actual story as possible. However, I know how Hollywood works, and I know that a straightforward telling of everything that happens in a man’s life is probably not going to make a very fulfilling movie.

[My concerns are also somewhat mitigated by the fact that people who knew Father Stuart Long participated in the making of the film. At least, according to Wikipedia.]

But is the end result a fulfilling movie?

I’m not sure. Like I said, it feels like it takes a while to get to the point. Still, I think there’s something interesting here in what it says about faith and a willingness to sacrifice oneself. I’m generally annoyed at how often popular media depicts the “good religious figure” as someone who is more vulgar than people who care about things like theology or Church Law (see: almost every depiction of Friar Tuck), but when we see Long in seminary, he does really care about the theology, he’s just able to transmit it to people in vulgar or less-polished ways. Which is interesting. I’m not sure that I like that approach, but it is interesting.

 Long decides, ultimately, that his suffering is a way to become closer to God, and I think most Hollywood films wouldn’t do that. I don’t watch enough Sad Sick People Movies (thank God), but from what I recall they generally have this weird fetishism of how “this sick person is making everyone’s lives better through sacrifice/being a good person despite suffering” or something like that. There’s an element of that here, but overall it’s clear that to the character depicted, Stuart Long isn’t doing this because of that. For him, it’s about serving God, first and foremost.

Which leads me to saying what I appreciate about this movie: it’s one that takes religion seriously. Movies and television are, in general, remarkably bad at talking or displaying religion. Even when it tries to flatter and be respectful, it often (valiantly!) misses the mark. Religion is brought up with psychological causes, emphasis is placed on capital-B Belief in something Vague and Positive, or devoutly religious historical figures have their actual spirituality downplayed–all of this, if they don’t depict religious people as drooling fundamentalists ready to burn nonbelievers.

[A thing I liked about Harriet was also how the title character’s religion was front and center there–though I’m not sure if God’s visions to her were as specific as what the film tells us.]

I really, really appreciate that Catholicism is something taken seriously in the movie. That means that this isn’t a movie for everyone because of that, I think, but I don’t see that many religious movies out there, so it was nice to come across a good one. Mind you, this isn’t even for every Catholic because of the swearing all over the place, and that’s okay, a religion’s not a monolith.

I’m also very amused that this movie shows how WEIRD Catholicism is for someone who’s not in it. When Stuart first goes to Mass, he doesn’t understand all of the things parishioners do or pray about, and it’s deeply strange for him as someone who isn’t religious (though Wikipedia says the real-life Long went to religious schools so it’s a bit off from the record, I think). He doesn’t get it! And I thought that was a bit funny, especially with Protestant friends of mine acting as if Catholic Mass is some kind of unknowable mystery.

Still, though I am glad this movie exists, I am glad that I watched it, and I think it’s an interesting, if very different sort of, Catholic movie. If you want that, then give this movie a view and see for yourself what you think.

[narastories]

meta ramble about intellectual compatibility

I had this compilation of quotes sitting in my drafts for a while, waiting for a good mini-meta rant. Actually, I was going back-and-forth whether it was worth posting or if my thoughts were too disjointed. But then after I posted that fic today I realized how much it totally shows in the way I write Harry’s and Nic’s dynamics, sometimes even without consciously aiming for it, so here are my thoughts anyway.

I am so obsessed with this tiny little thing that happens with them where despite all the hiss-bark-you’re-evil talk happening on Harry’s part they’re completely on the same wavelength.

What I mean is, and I have definitely experienced this in real life, when you can talk to someone and make logical leaps with the other person following perfectly. When you don’t have to go through each little step because the other person has the same thought pattern. It’s really nice when it happens and very annoying when it would be useful and it’s just not there.

I’m sure it happens with other characters too and also part of it is that in a book you don’t want a conversation to be boring so you have to have nice and flowy dialogue. But this sort of intellectual compatibility is still something I very much enjoy with these two characters.

Especially because Nicodemus is such a liar. I would say that’s one of his defining habits, actually, and he’s good at it. So good, in fact, that even Harry doesn’t always catch him, immediately, or at all. Which is saying something. Harry is generally a smart guy. Not necessarily smart as in aware of the consequences of his actions, but pretty intelligent. He’s also the protagonist of a book written in first person so if he doesn’t figure something out the audience has an even harder time. (Which reminds me actually how much I adore when Butcher does these plot twists at the end of some of the books where Harry knows what’s going to happen, but you don’t so you still enjoy it as a nice twist. Anyway, I’m trying not to go completely off-topic here.)

And the last reason why it’s such a telling sign that sometimes even Harry only catches Nic’s ‘plot twists’ last second is that despite the antagonistic nature of their relationship, when they put their heads together, they can literally finish each other’s sentences. For example:

““Interesting. Then the only question is if the contamination is among standing members of our Order or…” He let the thought trail off and glanced at me, lifting an eyebrow. I followed the logic to the only other people in possession of any of the coins. “Someone in the Church,” I whispered, with a sick feeling in my stomach.“

Or here is one of my favorites, a little earlier from the same chapter:

“If I am to call you Dresden, it is only fair that you should call me Archleone.” “Archleone?” I asked. “As in ‘seeking whom he may devour’? Kinda pretentious, isn’t it?” For half of a second, the smile turned into something almost genuine. “For a godless heathen, you are entirely too familiar with scripture. You know that I can kill you, do you not?”

Now, I did some furious googling on this and I still can’t pinpoint the exact linguistics of why did Harry (apparently correctly) associate the name “Archleone” with the Bible verse “the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour“. I mean, I see the Latin leo-Archleone connection, but this is not the only mention of lions in the Bible, is it? (Not that I’m super familiar with it so anyone please feel free to chime in on this. Actually, I just now found a few old Reddit threads adjacent to this topic and an article about the etymology of angel names in the Dresden Files, which I haven’t read but going to dive into later because apparently this is how I like to spend my free time.)

The point I’m trying to make is that it’s still a pretty obscure association.

And then we have this absolute beauty where half the important information is just Harry’s inner commentary yet Nic doesn’t even bat an eye:

“Ah. The strangulation was the distraction. He picked your pocket with one of the other wires before he was incapacitated. He did that to Saint…someone-or-other, in Glasgow in the thirteenth century.” There’s nothing like getting taken with an old trick, I guess. But that meant that Namshiel had been working together with someone else— someone else who had to have been hanging around to collect the coins after he’d taken them from my pocket and tossed them off to the side in the confusion. Someone who hadn’t been pulling a fade after all. “Tessa and Rosanna,” I said quietly. “They got their collection of thugs back. They bailed at just the right moment to ruin your plan, too.” “Deceitful bitches,” Nicodemus murmured. “One of them is our own Judas; I was sure of it.”

Again, I’m not trying to argue this is special or anything, just that this is a dynamic I really-really enjoy. And I noticed today how I do add this a little whenever I write them. Maybe this is part of why I enjoy writing them so much because they can be super quick-witted and have ping-pong-style banter with each other :P

Anyway, this post has gotten a bit out of hand already lol We all have those niche topics we like to do meta-rants about, and could talk about for hours, don’t we? Obviously, this is mine.

[attackedbytwees]

Yesterday I attended my grandmother's funeral.

In the eulogy, we first heard how she was born into a working class mining family during WW2, and went on to pass the grammar school entrance exam a year early, at the age of 10. And that was the last we heard about Janet herself.

She met my grandfather at 17, and from then on was a dutiful wife, mother, and servant of God and the Church. 81 years of life, condensed into a list of her husband's achievements, jobs, and relocations; her children's marriages to Good Christian™ partners; the names of the church clubs she volunteered for.

At the beginning of the sermon, the vicar said that "Janet would have wanted the focus to be on Jesus", and he certainly followed through on that. Several times he referred to what "Janet might have said" about various lines of scripture. Not what she had said. Just what she might have said. Hardly surprising, given that the depth of his personal tribute was that she "had a nice smile" and "liked a joke".

Not once during the service or wake did anyone stand up and talk about who she was as a person, or share a fond memory.

My grandfather, beaming, said he it was the best funeral he'd ever been to.

My Gran deserved better. So here are a few memories.

All her life she loved to travel - from a road trip in a tiny overloaded car to Switzerland as a young woman, to multiple trips to the USA, to bus tours across Europe with a retirees' travel group. She was a National Trust member, and enjoyed going round stately homes and gardens around the UK, then coming home and painting watercolours of the flowers she saw. She had a great memory for facts, she could tell you the names not only of every US state, but every state capital. Whenever they would come back from a holiday, she was fastidious in making sure that every detail of the stories was accurate - for instance, whether it was ham or cheese in that sandwich they had in that one hotel in that one place - which always made the telling take twice as long.

Despite being a keen traveller, Gran's palate never expanded to match the stamps on her passport. Korma may be the standard curry order for spice-intolerant white people, but even that was a step too far for her. Whenever we'd order from the local Indian takeaway, she would order boiled white rice, and cook up some chicken in a bechamel sauce with sweetcorn for herself. This even extended to drinks - making instant coffee, she'd say that if you couldn't count the granules on the spoon it was too much coffee for her. She told me as a child that sugar had clockwise and anti-clockwise granules, so you always had to stir both ways. I still think of that when I make someone tea with sugar.

Any time she might see the grandchildren she would bring her biscuit tin, a battered old ice cream tub that was older than some of the children being offered biscuits from it. They were the good ones as well: Viscount, Gold, Club, Tunnock's Caramel, but also some pink wafer biscuits because her mum (my Great Gran) liked them. When anyone picked a Club bar, she'd sing the jingle from the TV adverts. When my family got a dog, she started bringing custard cream biscuits too, because dogs can't eat chocolate but everyone in the family deserved a biscuit. At Christmas, she'd wrap up a packet of custard creams with the dog's name on the label.

Whenever it was time to go after visiting, she'd say "I'll love you and leave you", in her Midlands accent that withstood nearly half a century living in the South. After all this time, she finally has.