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#daniel talks religion

singeratlarge · 5 months

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peter chauncey’s SONG OF THE WEEK: “Numbers for Days” https://peterchauncey1.bandcamp.com/track/numbers-for-days

…peter writes, “There are so many ways to look at or analyze any given song. My song ‘Numbers for Days’ could be considered through all sorts of lenses or filters, through combinations of political, religious, environmental, cultural, or social experiences that are bound to change each of us over time.” On a cosmic jukebox this would play between Talking Heads and David Bowie’s electronica.

electronic drums/special effects - Daniel Berkman

bass, background vocals, production - Johnny J. Blair vocals, keyboards - peter chauncey

mixing, mastering – Will Mandell

#davidbowie #talkingheads #electronica #synthesizer #numbers #danielberkman #peterchauncey #johnnyjblair #clout #lilkim #sanfrancisco #singersongwriter #recording #politics #religion #culture #experience #change #bayarea #synthpop

#johnny j blair #singer songwriter #music #san francisco #pop rock #David Bowie #Talking Heads #electronica #synthesizer #numbers #Daniel Berkman #Peter Chauncey #politics #religion #culture #synthpop #Bandcamp

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lazy-toad · 1 year

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hc that arthur and bella were aro besties and occasional fwb who got married so society would fuck off (you don't want a romance and i don't want a romance, let's not have one, together)

I like that !!! I especially think it fits with both of their religious backgrounds, obviously I have no idea abt the specifics of whatever brand of Christianity that they were raised in in the early 20th century, but ik there was a lot of pressure put on marriage when I was growing up. I've never really thought abt aro Bella, but I quite enjoy the idea now that you've brought it up :))

#thanks for the ask!!#didn't mean to go on a rant abt my religious background but i think that that could be a particularly juicy concept #especially since we've had Arthur talk abt his own disdain for religion and how he was brought up in it #and we've heard what Daniel's like i can't imagine what he would have been like with his own daughter #anyway ya #malevolent

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uthseikoashx-goingmyway · 2 months

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things in IWTV season 2 i'd lose my mind if it actually happens (or when. because some of those things will happen.). sorry for the mistakes btw

1. Claudeleine romantic relationship

Claudia finally having a vampire lover she can be herself with. the romantic & sexual tension. the heart to heart Louis and Claudia would have before changing Madeleine. the yearning. the tragic ending. the change of dynamics in the De Pointe du Lac family. the disruption of it all.

2. an exploration of Armand's relationship to religion, faith and God

specially in 2022. past religious crisis. how he articulates his vampire nature, his faith and his despair. lots of hints of TVA. God and art. religion, Armand and Louis. his religion (conversion from being christian to being muslim in this universe? if so, why?). "i serve, a God," would you mind to develop?

3. dramatic irony about Daniel's past and Devil's Minion

the rent boy. Daniel actually realising he had been a dick about that. "oh." after understanding the irony of it all. Armand talking in riddles and hinting at something Daniel is totally ignorant of. young Daniel's life and messy, loving and weird relationship with Armand. some activism. 2022 Daniel getting old, sicker and sicker. laughs. angst. tension. yearning. longing stares. petty remarks. revelations.

4. Loumand complex relationship

the love and the suffering. how they are both deeply attached to each other. how they show their care. the place Lestat holds right in the middle. how they deal with Claudia's death. what Louis really thinks about it. the tension. the yearning. how their relationship actually developed. the extent of Louis' memory alteration and how it plays a role into their dynamics. the after: how Armand helped Louis. messy divorce vibes. petty moves. to what extent their relationship is doomed. how one person can love several persons and in different ways, and how complex and delicate it is.

5. The Groan™

what is that. a metaphor for sexual arousal? Lestat scratching the walls? Rashid trapped? some clues. what the fuck.

6. Antoinette alive and kicking

and coming back right on time for the trial, because it would be 1) so fucking funny 2) utterly tragic, considering Claudia would be killed for killing nobody.

7. amazing outfits

amazing outfits

8. lots of french

i'm french

9. Claudia and Armand's relationship

Claudia being protective of Louis. Armand dealing with it. some sort of bond rivalry. both of them aware that something's wrong with the other. Armand and Claudia's similarities being acknowledged (age, killing a human they loved — Charlie, Ricardo — and complex situation regarding their maker), even a possibility for some kind of understanding and compassion (making the end more tragic). Armand seeing a some of Lestat in Claudia. Claudia seeing Armand's love for Lestat. a common love for theater and spectacular shows. that awful experience before Claudia's death.

10. Louis and memories

the photos he takes (where are they in 2022? will they clash with Louis' tale?). the metatextual dimension of themes such as: unreliable narration, memories and perspective, autofiction. Daniel calling out Louis' avoiding strategies. Louis calling out Daniel's rudeness and biais. how Louis really sees his relationship with Claudia? the gap between Louis' and Armand's recalling. a deeper exploration of his superimposed identities (black, queer, american man; in 1940, 1973, 2022). learning how to trust someone new after being abused. the rain metaphors. Louis saying the most poetic and heartbreaking thing you'll ever heard. his relationship to vampirism as he joins Armand's coven. grief and loss of a family member. hallucinations and how they are filmed / manifesting. guilt. loving Claudia and Armand. loving Lestat, still. etc.

tysm for coming to my tedtalk. it was very self-indulgent but very much pleasant. i won't be mad if it doesn't happen (obviously!), or not like i imagine. still, it's fun to imagine and put that here on tumblr. no shame on lestat, i just have no special things i'm waiting for about him, and will be very happy indeed to see him again. salut

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matan4il · 1 month

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Daily update post:

Since this morning, Hezbollah has been firing rockets at Israel's northern towns. There is at least one man dead, identified as 25 years old Zahara Bashar, an Israeli Druze, and 2 people injured as a result of this on going attack.

This is a reaction by Iran-funded Hezbollah to a strike by Israel yesterday on a different terrorist organization, al-Jama’a al-Islamiyya (the Islamic Assembley, an ally of al-Qaeda), and following even more Israeli military activity in Lebanon, meant to stop a senior member of Fatah (the ruling party of the Palestinian Authority) from smuggling Iranian-funded standard explosives and additional weapons into Israel for terrorist attacks. As one TV military reporter I was listening to yesterday explained, the difference between improvised explosives and standard ones is in how lethal they are, for example when a small amount is attached to the side of a vehicle, the difference is whether one person gets killed or ten.

youtube

I've written about Israel still waiting for definitive proof that Marwan Issa, Hamas' #3 in Gaza, has been killed in a military strike. Yesterday, we got an official confirmation of that. This means that out of the 4 Hamas leaders that are on the top of Israel's list, two are gone. We're still left with Yahya Sinwar (#1) and Mohammed Deif (#2). Most Israelis tend to think that if Israel manages to kill Sinwar, Hamas will likely surrender, and the war would be over.

As Israel's military operation in the Shifa hospital continues, here is a really important batch of testimonies from captured terrorists, about how, once the IDF left this place, they returned to it, exploited it assuming they'd be safe there, and how they were not alone, with defined areas for the Hamas terrorists, and others meant for the Palestinian Islamic Jihad (PIJ) terrorists, cynically using spots such as the maternity ward.

youtube

A military reporter published the fact that Israel has refused permission for Turkey and Qatar to participate in air drops of humanitarian aid into Gaza. The reporter frames it as a political decision, but consider what it means that Qatar and Turkey are both politically hostile countries - that there is no way for Israel to verify they would not try to air drop military aid to Hamas. At the same time, I wanna highlight what this info also means, and hasn't been talked about... It means that every time you hear about yet another country air dropping aid into Gaza, that's done with Israel's permission. And there are way more countries permitted to do this than refused. This is one of many things that should make it clear that Israel is NOT targeting regular Gazans, and is making every possible effort to make sure they are getting humanitarian aid, while trying to minimize how much this aids Hamas (and in that sense, prolongs the war).

These are brothers Neria and Daniel Sharabi.

On Oct 7, they were at the Nova music festival. Not only did they survive Hamas' massacre, they also helped to save others. Since then, they've started a fund to help the survivors, and in order to raise money, they've been traveling abroad, telling their story, mostly to Jewish communities. A couple of days ago, they were traveling to Manchester, in the UK, when they were asked at the airport upon arrival what their religion was. They recount that after disclosing they were Jews and what they were there to do, they encountered hostile reactions, including being told (according to a TV interview I heard with them), "We don't like what you're here to do," and "We have to make sure that you are not going to do here what you are doing in Gaza." They were detained for a couple of hours, before being allowed in. The brothers said they're convinced this was motivated by antisemitism based on being questioned about their religion. The incident is said to be investigated.

This is 40 years old Amit Soussana.

She was kidnppaed to Gaza from her home in kibbutz Kfar Azza, and among the hostages released in late November. A lot of Israelis remember her as the hostage who was captured on film trying to fight off the men taking her, with no less than 7 of them (yes, Israelis have counted) involved in her abduction:

We've had private testimonies from Israelis about having been raped, we've had public testimonies from Israeli who have seen the physical evidence of the Hamas rapes, we've had public testimonies of Israelis who have witnessed those rapes, and we've had public testimonies of hostages, who've heard from their fellow captives about the sexual abuse the latter have gone through. All that wasn't enough for some people, who continued to deny Hamas' sexual violence. Now, Amit Soussana is the first Israeli to come forward and publicly talk about the sexual assault she had suffered at the hands of Hamas. Her testimony has been published in the New York Times, and for anyone without a subscription, other publications have quoted parts of it, like Times of Israel. A part of me really hates that Amit might have felt compelled to speak because of the doubt cast at raped Jews. Another part thinks that for the second time, she is showing outstanding bravery. And yet another finds it hard to believe that this will make a difference. Those who are dead set on not believing Jews, essentially calling us all liars, will do the same to her, and when they do, I hope she won't have to witness that firsthand. But in a sense, if their doubt is indeed the reason why she felt she had to speak up publicly, then it's clear that there's already been damage done to the victims of Hamas' sexual violence.

This is 35 years old Uriel Baruch with his son.

Uriel was married, and a father of two. He loved techno music, and on Oct 7 was attending the Nova music festival along with a friend, Michael Yoav, who was murdered there (his body was found shot in the car in which the two were trying to escape). Uriel was kidnapped. Yesterday, the army was able to confirm to the family that Hamas had murdered him while in captivity, and is still holding Uriel's body hostage. The number of Israeli hostages in Gaza is 134, and the official confirmations of death indicate that no more than 98 are still alive, though some count Hamas claims as well, in which case no more than 96 are. May Uriel's memory be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #israelunderattack #resources

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fuckyeahpedropascal · 1 year

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Pedro boys smoker matrix

Friendly discussion and even fiery debate welcome as always! 🔥

I'm back! In true Cee fashion, this idea attacked me from nowhere and I couldn't stop until I was done. This was so much fun to put together, and I have many thoughts to share under the cut.

• Masterlist •

How long will Pedro boys survive a zombie apocalypse?

Pedro boys as Spice Girls (R)

Pedro boys chattiness matrix

Chain smoker

Javier

The OG who makes these sucking on these cancer sticks look sexy AF, he is the only one out of the Pedro boys who deserves this accolade. Whether he's lighting up, talking around a cigarette, staring into space smoking on one - it doesn't matter what he's doing with it, he sells it.

Stress smoker

Tim Rockford, Dave York, Marcus Pike, Maxwell Lord

I wanted to put Tim in the chain smoker category, I'm convinced this stressed detective easily smokes a pack a day, but since we weren't treated to any evidence of his smoking habits, I decided to put him in this one instead. The others are pretty self-explanatory given the nature of their jobs, but can I just say - I would kill for a glimpse of Dave York smoking.

Social smoker

The Thief, Max Phillips, Nico, SNL Charlie

You know these guys wouldn't miss the chance to schmooze, especially over a cigarette.

Weed only

Dieter Bravo, Ezra, Oberyn Martell, Javi Gutierrez

I mean, if they had weed in Westeros, Oberyn would be all over it, it fits right in with his lifestyle. Both Dieter and Javi do recreational drugs in the movies, and Ezra? He gives the vibes that he grows his own weed.

Quit after kids

SNL Meemaw, Joel Miller, Frankie Morales, Jack Daniels

Don't @ me, Jack didn't lose his baby and his wife, he had two more kids and is living happily ever after 😭 We saw Joel's reaction to Tommy smoking, and I like to think that Frankie quit smoking and drugs after his baby arrived. And you just know that Meemaw used to smoke cos she's badass.

Never smoked

Din Djarin, Pero Tovar, Edward, Ricky Hauk

Din for obvious reasons of his religion, and Pero because I did some *research* and the movie is set in the early 11th century, which is before tobacco was introduced to Spain or China. But I just know that Pero would be a chain smoker in another life. It's so much fun including the two baby P's in this compilation - I've never watched Buffy or Touched by an Angel, but you can't convince me these two literal angels have ever touched a cigarette.

#tw smoking #tw cigarettes #pedro pascal #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal compilation #narcos #javier pena #javier peña #tlou #the last of us #joel miller #pedro pascal snl #tim rockford #dieter bravo #dave york #oberyn martell #javi gutierrez #din djarin

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loslentesdepedrito · 6 months

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I'm Your Wife- Chapter Five

Top right gif by: @tomshiddles, bottom left gif by: @pedropascalmybeloved

Pairing: Jack Daniels ‘Agent Whiskey’x Spanish-speaking f!reader and Javier Peña x Spanish-speaking f!reader (Spanish translations are provided.)

Previous Chapter: I'm Your Wife- Chapter Four

Next Chapter: I'm Your Wife- Chapter Six

Word count: 7.1k+

Chapter summary: Jack receives a call from Dr. Navarro, and the story behind Ángel's name is revealed. Plus, we dive into Javi's relationship with you, religion, and his mom. There are some sweet moments with Javi, but there are also some angsty ones, so brace yourselves! (Flashback scenes are in bold)

Rating: 18+ No explicit content, but this is an 18+ page. Warning contains spoilers, but please read if you'd like!!! They are below the cut, but if you don't want to read them, the story starts after the Whiskey bottles.

Warnings: Angst, jealousy, pregnancy, divorce, childhood disease, science (I tried my best to simplify stuff; I hope it makes sense!) catholicism, mention of parent loss, mention of children's death, Colombia references.

Jack found himself engrossed in packing the gifts he had bought for Ángel. As soon as he left the hospital, he placed a custom order, an expedited one. With the gifts neatly arranged, his heart was filled with anticipation. He intended to reach out and ask if he could visit his son today. The very thought of visiting Ángel and you was the only source of excitement.

In the midst of meticulously placing the final gift into a large, holographic blue bag, his phone rang, interrupting the moment. The ringtone pierced the room, and the screen displayed an unfamiliar number, causing his brows to pull at the center.

A calm, reassuring voice greets him, "Hello. This is Dr. Navarro calling. Is this Mr. Jack Daniels?"

With an affirming nod that the doctor couldn't see, Jack confirms, "This is he." He places the phone between his ear and shoulder, all the while making his way to the foyer to put on his shoes.

Dr. Navarro proceeded cautiously, "Is this a good time to talk?"

Jack, now crouched over to pull on a boot, replied with alacrity as he juggled the phone, "Yes."

"I have some very good news, Mr. Daniels," the doctor says, his tone carrying a hint of optimism.

At the mention of "good news," Jack's heart quickens, causing him to pause momentarily freeze in place, one shoe halfway on.

“Can you come into the hospital? I’m afraid this needs to be a personal conversation,” the doctor continued.

Jack falls into a brief silence, his mind racing with countless thoughts and possible scenarios.

"Mr. Daniels?" the doctor prompted, concern seeping into his tone.

"Yes! 'Pologies, I was just... Can we talk today?" Jack asked hurriedly as he struggled to slip his other boot on.

The doctor, who had been about to list his available times, adjusted to Jack's urgency. "Sure-"

But Jack interrupted before he could finish. "I can be there at three, does that work?" he blurted out and finally managed to put on his boot.

The doctor agreed, with a simple, "Yes."

Jack sighed with relief. "Thank you." He quickly ended the call.

Without wasting another moment, he darts out the door. As he intends to lock his apartment door, he suddenly realizes he left behind his keys, wallet, and the gift for his son, still sitting on the sofa.

He dashed back inside, collecting everything he needed in frantic haste. As he finally left his apartment and rushed down the stairs, his mind raced with a mix of hope and anxiety.

Without wasting a moment, he dashed out of the door. However, as he reached to lock the apartment, a sudden realization struck him – he had left behind his keys, wallet, and his son’s gifts, still resting on the sofa.

He rushed back inside, gathering the essentials in a frantic haste. Finally, he left his apartment and hurried down the stairs, his mind remaining a whirlwind of both hope and anxiety.

You sit by the bedside, your hand gently cradling Ángel's tiny fingers as he sleeps. The soft beeping of monitors and Javi's gentle snores as he rests on the sofa echo in the room. Javi had vigilantly watched over his little boy throughout the night, managing to steal only a few hours of sleep. As soon as he heard a quiet knock, your voice, and Dr. Navarro's footsteps softly padding across the sterile Cirque White linoleum floor as he entered Ángel's room, Javi's instincts kicked in, wakening him. It's become second nature during your lengthy stay at the hospital; his brain is finely programmed to awaken at the slightest disturbance.

"Buenas (Good afternoon)," the doctor greets with a warm smile.

"Buenas (Good afternoon)," Javi mumbles sleepily, his voice still clouded by drowsiness.

"¿Cómo está? (How are you?)" You ask, extending a warm welcome.

"Bien, gracias. Espero que ustedes también (Good, thank you. I hope you all are too)," he responds. "¿Cómo está Ángel? (How’s Ángel doing?) "

Javier answers, his concern evident in his words, "Bien. Ya no ha vomitado, pero se quejó tantito de náusea (Good. He hasn’t thrown up, but he’s complained a bit about nausea), but not as much as he complained before."

"Ah, that means the medicine is working. Hopefully, the nausea will be gone in a couple of hours," Dr. Navarro reassures.

"Does he have any tests?" you ask, a hint of worry in your voice.

"No, not right now. The reason I came in is to ask one of you to come to my office. You both can come if you prefer," the doctor suggests.

You and Javi share a wordless exchange, a silent understanding passing between you. "No, that's fine, you go," Javi says in a soothing tone, his thumb gently tracing small, comforting circles on your hand.

“Ya vengo (I’ll be back),” you whisper, your voice barely louder than a breath, gently squeezing Ángel's tiny hand before leaving a tender kiss on your husband's lips.

Javi nods, a warm smile gracing his features, and his soft, beautiful brown eyes meet yours as he says, "I'll stay with Ángel, mi amor. I'll be right here."

Leaving Ángel's room, you and the doctor head down the hospital corridor.

“I have good news,” Dr. Navarro says on the short walk to his office. His office was just around the corner from Ángel’s hospital room.

“Good news?” you questioned, your heart racing with hope and anxiety, your maternal instincts on high alert.

And then, as you turn the corner, you spot Jack approaching. In his hands, he carries a large gift bag, and your assumption is immediate - it must be for your son.

Before you can even question his unexpected presence, Dr. Navarro interjects, “Ah, Mr. Daniels, you're right on time,” and with that, he opens his office door, signaling for you to enter. The door swung open, and you stepped inside. “Please sit down, Mrs. Peña, Mr. Daniels,” the doctor instructed.

Jack's heart aches as he hears you addressed by another man's last name, an unexpected but sharp jab at his heart. He couldn't help but feel a turbulent mixture of emotions, from heartbreak to searing anger. How dare this man refer to you as Mrs. Peña?

She was Mrs. Daniels, not Peña, his inner thoughts raged. Then he heard it, "was" – past tense because he had done everything in his power to keep you at arm's length. There was no time to delve further into these thoughts as the doctor cleared his throat, drawing his attention back to the present.

You and his son's doctor were looking intently at him.

"Sorry," he shook his head as if to shake off those intrusive thoughts. He noticed you were still standing and quickly pulled out a chair, motioning for you to sit and adding a polite 'please.' He then turned his gaze to his son's doctor and said, “Call me Jack, please."

You looked at him with a quizzical expression but didn't press further. Instead, you sat down. Jack followed suit, and as he settled into his chair, Dr. Navarro flipped open the manila folder on his wooden desk.

With hands crossed, forming a single fist resting on top of the folder, Dr. Navarro began, “Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice, Mr. Daniels. As I mentioned to each of you separately, I have good news. The news we've all been hoping for.”

At the mention of "good news," a rush of emotions washed over you, a mix of hope, relief, and anxiety, which was only natural for a mother whose son had been battling a condition with a limited life expectancy, lasting only 20-30 years.

"Mr. Daniels is a match."

Your reaction was visceral; you gasped audibly, a sound filled with the weight of years of worry and uncertainty. At that moment, you felt an overwhelming sense of relief wash over you, like a long-held breath released at last.

Jack's response was equally powerful. His voice cracked with emotion as he muttered, "Thank the Lord." Tears welled in his eyes, and through the blurry veil of his emotions, he noticed that tears were streaming down your cheeks.

In a profound and tender gesture, Jack, whose hand had been anxiously rubbing his thighs, reached for your right hand, gently intertwining his fingers with yours. For a fleeting moment, he feared that you might pull away, but to his immense relief, you offered no resistance.

“A full match, actually,” Dr. Navarro clarified, passing a tissue box around.

“When can we do the transplant?” His eyes were red from tears, and he continued to wipe them away with a Kleenex. The weight of responsibility hung heavy on his shoulders as he added, "This here's all ‘m fault, and I need'a fix it."

Understanding Jack's self-blame all too well, you reassured him with empathy. "It's not your fault, Jack. I didn't know before he came to the hospital because it can't be tested for before birth, given how rare it is. You couldn't possibly have known you were a carrier."

"She's right, Mr. Daniels. Ángel inherited one mutated copy of the FANCA gene from you, but you do not have the disease. If you did, it would have manifested when you were younger. You couldn't have known you could pass the gene to your son," Ángel's doctor explains, his gaze shifting to the neatly scattered papers on his desk. He continues, his voice filled with awe, "You'll actually end up saving his life in a way I've never seen before. You are a full match, meaning that all of Ángel's HLA markers are exactly like yours. This... this is incredibly rare," Dr. Navarro adds, his amazement evident. "The gene pool is fascinatingly diverse, and the chances of this exact scenario are less than 1%."

Jack blinks throughout the doctor's explanation.

"Sorry, I got a little carried away," Dr. Navarro admits sheepishly. "HLA markers are proteins that assist the immune system in recognizing foreign substances. We need the closest match to reduce the risk of graft-versus-host disease after the transplant."

"Here," the doctor says, extracting a paper from the desk pile and flipping it so both of you can see the text, the paper rustling with the movement. The page is littered with various percentages, but what immediately draws your attention is the three separate rows of HLA markers with their corresponding numbers.

Dr. Navarro takes a pen and begins explaining, "This top set," as he points with the pen, "contains Ángel's HLA alleles."

HLA-B*07:02

HLA-C*04:01

HLA-B*35:01

HLA-A*02:01

HLA-C*06:02

HLA-DRB1*15:01

He then moves on to the second set and points with the pen to emphasize, "These are your HLA alleles."

HLA-DRB1*04:04

HLA-C*04:01

HLA-DQB1*03:02

HLA-B*35:01

HLA-DRB1*15:02

HLA-B*07:02

"Now, here's the interesting part," he says, circling a box, "these are Jack's HLA alleles. We ran the test more than once, and they are an exact match to Ángel's HLA alleles."

HLA-B*07:02

HLA-C*04:01

HLA-B*35:01

HLA-A*02:01

HLA-C*06:02

HLA-DRB1*15:01

Jack, still trying to wrap his head around the information, asks, "And that's rare?"

"Very rare," Dr. Navarro nods in agreement. He reaches for a few highlighters from his desk, removes the cap from a red one, and proceeds to highlight the first of your son's alleles. He then highlights the last line from your list with the same red color. "We're looking at six of Ángel's HLA markers. He inherited half from you and the other half from Jack," the doctor explains. "To simplify, I'll color-code and refer to the HLA markers. Based on your previous blood work, we already knew you contributed three alleles to Ángel. You provided him with the red HLA," he says as he highlights the next line of Ángel's row in orange. He then looks for the corresponding marker in your row and highlights HLA-C*04:01 in orange. "You also gave him the orange one, and," he continues, highlighting another one of Ángel's alleles in yellow before searching for your line: HLA-B*35:01, which he also marks in yellow. He points out the match for each marker, making it visually clear.

The doctor proceeds to highlight the last three lines of Ángel's HLA markers in green, blue, and purple, respectively. He then repeats the process with Jack's chart, marking the corresponding markers. "It's easier to see here," he explains, "but, Jack, you provided your son with the green, blue, and purple alleles. So, to clarify, Mom contributed the red, orange, and yellow markers to Ángel, and Dad gave him the green, blue, and purple. What's truly fascinating is that Jack and Ángel share the exact same alleles. Although you both don't have the same alleles, the probability of you two genetically coordinating to create a replication of one of your HLA sets is remarkable. You even have three matching alleles," the doctor concludes, emphasizing the incredible alignment of your and Jack's genetic markers.

“Wow,” you say, a bit dumbfounded. You've known all along that pushing through your feelings with Jack was the right choice, as he is indeed the solution to saving Ángel. Against all odds, your son will have a chance at a healthy life.

“Thank you, Jack,” you whisper, your free hand gently rubbing his hand that rests atop your other one. It's one of the most sincere things you've ever said, though it's brief—it's all that you can muster at the moment.

“You don't hafta thank me, Sugar. I'd do anythin’ for our boy,” Jack responds, his eyes locking onto yours. He adds, “I'd do anythin' for ya.”

Your heart stutters with nervousness. Your intention was to express gratitude for what Jack is doing for Ángel, not for yourself. After all, you're married to Javi. No, that's not- your thoughts get interrupted by Jack's question to Ángel’s doctor.

“So, there’s no issue with me bein’ my son’s donor, correct?” Jack asks hopefully.

“Not a one,” the doctor reassures, gesturing with a dismissive wave of his hands. "After we’re done here, you'll need to sign some paperwork to formalize your agreement to be Ángel’s donor. Then, you'll have to pick up a five-day supply of filgrastim at the pharmacy. I can send the prescription to the hospital’s pharmacy, and you can pick it up today. Filgrastim is a medication designed to increase the number of stem cells in your bloodstream, which is essential for the transplant. As for the medication itself, it will come in the form of injections. You have the option of having someone administer them for you-”

I don’t, Jack thought sadly

“-but you can also do it yourself. The pharmacist will provide you with instructions on how to self-administer the injections,” Dr. Navarro explains, wrapping up the details.

Jack absorbed every word from the doctor, committing each detail to memory.

“Now, as for Ángel,” Dr. Navarro continued, “we're going to initiate a seven-day course of chemotherapy. In addition, he’ll need to have a port surgically placed on his chest. Ports are the preferred method for administering chemotherapy, as it minimizes the need for repeated needle insertions in his arms. He will need to undergo surgery-”

Both you and Jack exhibited a shared expression of concern, your faces visibly falling as your brows furrowed, and you clutched the arms of your chairs, pausing anxiously.

“Don’t worry,” Dr. Navarro reassured hastily, sensing your apprehension, “the incision will be only about an inch long, and the entire procedure should take roughly an hour.”

"Will he be in pain afterward?" Jack questioned, despising the idea that his son would be poked and prodded.

“I expect some soreness around the area, but we’ll provide him with ibuprofen to alleviate the discomfort,” the doctor reassured.

Another procedure? I fucking hate this you thought to yourself. Even though Ángel’s doctor and the entire medical team had meticulously planned everything and were the best of the best, it didn’t prevent you from spiraling into a whirlwind of concern.

"How long until the transplant day?” you prompted.

“We can fit Ángel in for surgery tonight and begin the chemo tomorrow morning,” Dr. Navarro responded.

“Mr. Daniels, it’s crucial that you are fully committed to donating because after Ángel receives his first dose of chemo, his immune system will be compromised. In fact, we don’t allow visitors until after the seven days are over.”

Jack's shoulders slumped. Ever since he had met his son, being separated from Ángel felt like he was missing a vital part of himself.

“When can he have visitors again?” Jack's voice was submerged in anxiety.

“After the seven days of chemo, you will come into the hospital, and we’ll collect your cells through an Apheresis machine. This machine will extract your blood and separate it into two categories: blood and stem cells. We need the stem cells, but your blood will be cycled back into your bloodstream. The process should take about three hours, and Ángel will receive the stem cells within 24 hours. You won't be able to visit him until the fifth day after his transplant. I expect him to stay in the hospital for 25 days, at most, possibly up to 30 days.”

“That long?” Jack questioned, his concern evident.

“Unfortunately,” he nodded solemnly. “We have to wait for him to graft. That means your donor stem cells must incorporate into Ángel’s bone marrow, where they will start producing healthy blood cells. Fanconi anemia is a disorder that impairs the bone marrow's ability to generate sufficient blood cells, so it's crucial to ensure that Ángel's body can produce enough red blood cells, white blood cells, and platelets.”

You released a deep sigh. “As long as he'll be okay after this.”

Dr. Navarro nodded in agreement. “I hope this transplant will be curative for Ángel's disorder, Mrs. Peña. What do you both think about the plan?”

Jack gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Let’s do it,” Jack declared.

“I think it's a good plan. I'll need to discuss it with my husband, but I'm sure he'll agree,” you said.

“Perfect. I’ll place the order for Mr. Daniels' medication, and later, I'll visit Ángel's room to confirm the plan or make any necessary adjustments,” the doctor said, rising from his seat.

Jack helped you stand from your chair, his hand still intertwined with yours, while your free hand instinctively rested on your stomach, cradling the precious bump.

“Thank you, Doc,” Jack expressed his gratitude, turning to the doctor and offering a firm handshake.

“No need to thank me,” Dr. Navarro humbly deflected the praise.

“Muchas gracias (thank you so much),” you sincerely added, your voice quivering on the edge of tears as you expressed your gratitude in his office.

“No. Nada de lágrimas. Estoy cumpliendo lo que les prometí a usted y su familia. Les prometí que les iba a ayudar. Déjeme enfocarme en eso y luego usted se enfoca en nuestra cena, porque alguien me prometió un pozole rojo (No. No tears. I'm fulfilling what I promised to you and your family. I promised that I would help you. Let me focus on that, and then you can focus on our dinner because someone promised me red pozole),” he chuckled and placed a hand on your shoulder.

As the doctor's hand landed on your shoulder, Jack couldn't conceal his jealousy, clenching his jaw tightly.

You laughed along with the doctor, further stoking Jack's anger.

“Bueno (Well),” you said, trying to get the end of the conversation so you could go back to your family.

“Take care,” the doctor bid farewell. Jack ushered you towards the door, too absorbed in the sensation of holding your hand to notice the gift bag left behind.

However, you halted your movement, bringing Jack's attention back to you, “Jack?”

“Yes, sugar?” Jack gazed at you, his eyes searching for your thoughts.

“The bag…” you reminded him.

He glanced at you as though you had grown three heads.

When you pointed towards the blue holographic bag resting against the doctor's desk, just where Jack's feet had been, “Oh,” he exhaled, realizing his oversight, and moved to pick it up, guiding you along with him.

“Thank you, doctor,” Jack expressed his gratitude one last time before opening the door to rushing you out of the office.

“Goodbye,” Dr. Navarro called out as Jack closed the door behind you.

Walking together in the corridor, Jack still hadn't released your hand.

“Can you let go of my hand?”

“Was he hittin’ on you?”

You both asked simultaneously, curiosity and jealousy lurking in the air.

“Jesus, Jack,” you scoffed, your disbelief evident at his unfounded accusation regarding your son’s doctor. “I think he's a lot smarter than to hit on a pregnant, married woman,” you couldn't help but dig.

He winced, realizing that you were calling him out on his irrational behavior, a reminder of the boundaries that should be upheld in your marriage.

You couldn't hide your irritation at Jack's unwarranted jealousy. "Jack, you can't behave like that, especially not in front of Javi. You know he's my husband," you admonished firmly.

Jack's annoyance was clear, and he didn't seem willing to concede. He scoffed when you referred to Javi as your husband, his possessive thoughts still clouding his judgment. "Fine," he replied curtly, sidestepping the issue.

Just as Jack was about to say something else, he paused, audibly sighing and taking a deep breath. He turned to you, his expression softened. "May I see Ángel after ‘m done signin’ the papers, please?" he asked politely, setting aside his jealousy, at least temporarily.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, still seething over Jack's behavior, and then you turned your back on him, heading into room 43 where Javi was waiting with Ángel. You hoped that Jack would come to his senses soon and realize the importance of keeping things civil for your son's sake.

You entered the room and found Ángel still asleep, while your husband, Javi, was tidying up. As he noticed you coming in, his face contorted with concern.

"¿Que dijo? (what did he say?)" Javi asked, worry lacing his voice.

You couldn't hold back your emotions any longer. You wrapped your arms around him and began to sob. He held you tightly, mindful of your stomach, bracing himself for the news that Jack wasn't a suitable match. Thoughts raced through his mind a million miles an hour as he stroked your back, offering all the comfort he could.

"He's a match," you managed to say amid your tears.

Javi stood there bewildered. For what felt like the longest time, he had carried the weight of believing that Ángel's disease was a consequence of his past actions, a sort of penance for everything he'd done in Colombia. He had convinced himself that God was punishing him and, in a twisted way, using his innocent son as a vessel for retribution.

The first time he had set foot inside a church in years was for Ángel's baptism. He remembered it vividly – the scent of aging wood, the dim lighting, and the echoing hush of whispered prayers. For Javi, it wasn't faith that led him there but the insistent pull of family expectations. He had drifted away from the church after his mother's death, the loss leaving him questioning everything he'd learned in those Sunday school classes. Ángel's baptism was more about fulfilling a tradition than any genuine religious beliefs.

Before returning to the hospital, Javi did something he hadn’t done in ages. In the quiet solitude of the church, Javier knelt at the prie-dieu, feeling the cold plushness of the cushion beneath his knees. Surrounded by an array of flickering candles, casting dancing shadows upon the sacred altar, he fixed his eyes on the image of la virgen morena (Our Lady of Guadalupe).

He reached into his pocket and clutched his mother's rosary, a tangible link to her memory, her love, and her unwavering faith. Closing his eyes in the quiet sanctuary, he could almost hear her soft voice, like a gentle breeze, guiding him through the familiar words. It was as if she was right there with him.

‘Javier, primero empiezas con la cruz. Persignante con la señal de la santa cruz’ (Javier, first you start with the cross. Sign yourself with the sign of the holy cross), her voice whispered, and he obeyed, letting the rosary's crucifix trace the sign of the cross upon his chest, the gentle coolness of the crucifix grounding him.

She continued, ‘y reza el Credo de los Apóstoles (and pray the Apostles' Creed),’ and he recited the words, each syllable infused with the deep faith that had been instilled in him from a young age.

“Creo en Dios Padre todopoderoso, creador del cielo y de la tierra. Creo en Jesucristo, su único Hijo, nuestro Señor; que fue concebido por obra y gracia del Espíritu Santo, nació de Santa María Virgen; padeció bajo el poder de Poncio Pilato, fue crucificado, muerto y sepultado; descendió a los infiernos, al tercer día resucitó entre los muertos; subió a los cielos y está sentado a la derecha de Dios Padre, Todopoderoso. Desde allí vendrá a juzgar a vivos y a muertos. Creo en el Espíritu Santo; la Santa Iglesia Católica, la comunión de los santos; el perdón de los pecados, la resurrección de la carne; y la vida perdurable. Amén. (I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth. I believe in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord; who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary; suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried; he descended into hell; on the third day, he rose again from the dead; he ascended into heaven; and is seated at the right hand of God the Father almighty; from there, he will come to judge the living and the dead. I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting. Amen.)”

‘Un Padre nuestro, (an Our Father)’ his mom's voice echoed in his head, and he whispered the words with deep devotion. He held the rosary beads tightly, letting them slide through his fingers one by one as he moved on to the next step, ‘Tres aves marías (three Hail Marys)’

"Dios te salve, María, llena eres de gracia. El Señor es contigo… (Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee…)” The words rolled off his tongue like a precious lullaby his mom used to sing before he’d fall asleep.

‘Una gloria (a Glory Be)’, he continued with his mother’s instruction.

"Gloria al Padre, al Hijo y al Espíritu Santo… (Glory Be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit…)" His voice filled the empty space, her voice mingling with his own.

‘Un misterio, luego un Padre nuestro en la bolita del medio, y después un avemaría en cada bolita que sigue, diez en total. Seguido por una gloria, y luego un jaculatorio. Tienes que repetir esto cinco veces (A mystery, then an Our Father on the middle bead, and then one Hail Mary on each of the following beads, ten in total. Followed by a Glory Be, and then a short prayer. You have to repeat this five times)’, his mom whispered.

At the end, he reached the point where he felt an overwhelming need to add a Penitential Act. His voice quivered as he began.

“Yo confieso ante Dios Todopoderoso, y ante ustedes hermanos, que he pecado mucho de pensamiento, palabra, obra y omisión. Por mi culpa, por mi culpa- (I confess to almighty God, and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have greatly sinned through my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done, and in what I have failed to do; through my fault, through my fault-)” his voice faltered, and he couldn't continue. His throat felt constricted as if an invisible hand was crushing his larynx, and knots of guilt and emotion tied up his words.

“-por mi gran culpa (-through my most grievous fault)” por mi gran culpa, por mi gran culpa (through my most grievous fault, through my most grievous fault,) he repeated fervently. He didn't even realize he had been crying until his face started to itch. Tears streamed down his face, landing on his dress shirt and the cold, hard floor below.

In that solemn moment, he let out years of repressed memories, reliving the weight of his past, and profusely apologizing for all the harm he had caused, especially to the innocent.

With eyes tightly shut, he was transported to the alley in Colombia, reliving the horrors he couldn't erase from his memory. The images of children caught in the crossfire of violence haunted him. He begged for forgiveness, especially for failing to prevent Carillo from murdering a child in a dark alley, right before the eyes of other young boys, the youngest, Ángel’s age. With his eyes tightly closed, he saw Fredy's lifeless body, the son of Gacha, inside that red truck.

That's why my son is going through this. It's all my fault, the agonizing guilt echoed within him as he continued to pour out his remorse, bargaining, and making promises to a higher power. His voice was thick with sorrow and repentance as he sought forgiveness for his past sins.

With each echo in his head, Javi found himself involuntarily drawn closer to the flickering flames of the candles. Their heat was so intense that he could feel the warmth of the fire, causing beads of sweat to form along his hairline.

He continued with the confiteor prayer, “Por eso ruego a Santa María siempre Virgen, a los ángeles, a los santos y a ustedes hermanos, que intercedan por mí ante Dios, Nuestro Señor (That's why I pray to Saint Mary, ever Virgin, to the angels, to the saints, and to you, my brothers, to intercede for me before God, Our Lord.)”

Concluding the prayer with his mother's rosary, he began another prayer. With a heart heavy with love for his son, he begged and pleaded for a match that could save Ángel's life, his plea echoing through the sacred silence of the church.

‘Ya, Javi, va estar bien, ya veras, (Enough, Javi, it's going to be fine, you'll see.)’ he heard his mom’s voice.

The sound of your voice crying out in the present brought Javi back to reality. He snapped out of the memory and looked at you.

"He's going to get the transplant?" he asked, his eyes already glossy with unshed tears.

You nodded in response, fresh tears cascading down your cheeks - this time, you couldn't blame it on your pregnancy.

Javi leaned over and gently kissed your cheek before guiding you to sit on the nearby sofa. You leaned into him, seeking solace in his comforting presence, and began to recount everything Dr. Navarro explained.

After you finished explaining, both of you moved to sit in chairs beside Ángel's bed. Javi tenderly brushed Ángel's hair away from his forehead, gazing at him with an unmistakable love shining in his eyes.

“¿Qué piensas? (What are you thinking about?)” you asked.

"¿Y su pelo? (And his hair?)" Javi exhaled, his voice tinged with concern. "I know it's not the most important thing in the world, but... I don't know," he trailed off, sounding a bit defeated. "Forget I said anything," he quickly added, trying to dismiss his worries.

He didn't have to articulate his thoughts; you understood perfectly. Javi knew how much Ángel loved his hair, and although it might appear like a small concern in the grand scheme of things, his hair would grow back after the chemo, just like new leaves after a long winter.

Understanding that Javi wasn't prepared to share everything that was troubling him at this moment, you decided not to press him for more words. After all, this was the rule you both followed religiously – to communicate about anything and everything, even if it happened immediately or took time to talk through it. You could sense that this time, it was the latter, so you attempted to divert his thoughts from whatever was haunting him.

"He does have great hair," you said with a soft smile.

"Te sacó a ti (He got it from you)," Javi chuckled lightly, appreciating that you were waiting for him to share everything he was thinking about.

You hummed contentedly, leaning into his shoulder. "Mmm, thank you. I know," you playfully responded, a hint of a smile dancing on your lips.

“I love it when you’re humble,” he teased, but his eyes were filled with adoration.

Javi placed a hand behind your back, gently caressing your stomach with one hand and playing with Ángel's hair with the other. In this comforting embrace, you reassured each other that your son would be all right.

As you settled into the moment, Javi's phone chimed. He carefully and reluctantly withdrew his hand from your stomach and Ángel's head, giving his son a loving kiss before pressing his lips lightly against the top of your head.

“Llegó algo, ahorita regreso, mi vida (Something came, I’ll be back soon, my love),” he apologized.

Two minutes later – not that you were counting (you totally were) – Javi returned with a yellow plastic bag.

“¿Qué compraste? (What did you buy?)”

He remained silent, a sly smile gracing his lips.

“Cierra tus ojos (Close your eyes),” he instructed.

You squinted at him suspiciously, prompting, “¿Qué, qué compraste? (I said, what did you buy?)”

“Terca, que cierres tus ojos (Stubborn girl, I said to close your eyes),” he insisted, chuckling at your persistence.

"Fine," you huffed in mock frustration and obediently closed your eyes.

You heard the faint crackling of the plastic bag and Javi muttering a few cuss words as he struggled to take out whatever he had bought. You couldn't help but stifle a laugh, but it didn't go unnoticed.

"Ríete y no te doy nada (Laugh and I won’t give you anything)," Javi warned, though the playful tone in his voice was unmistakable.

"No me estoy riendo de ti, nomás me acordé de algo (I’m not laughing at you; I just remembered something)," you lied, biting your lip to stifle your mirth, unable to contain your laughter.

"Mhm, te creo, pero no le cuentes a nadie (Mhm, I believe you, just don’t tell anyone)," he replied, clearly not convinced.

The sound of him opening and closing the small fridge and then drawing nearer to you reached your ears. With an instruction to open your eyes, you complied, letting your eyelids flutter open. Before you, Javi presented a styrofoam cup with a straw already in place.

The cup bore a familiar logo, two simple letters: 'AD.' Overwhelmed with emotion, you stared at the cup, your heart swelling.

"Sweetheart, don't cry," Javi said, kneeling down to rub your thigh in an attempt to soothe you.

"I'm sorry," you replied between cries, "goddamn hormones," you added with frustration.

"Shh, it's okay," Javi murmured, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear.

You blinked your tears away and patted the spot beside you, inviting Javi to sit.

He held his own cup in hand and handed yours with a warm smile.

“Gracias (Thank you),” you said gratefully, taking a sip, already knowing what was inside the cup.

The familiar cold, thick substance filled your mouth, and your taste buds exploded with the flavor of strawberries, coupled with a dollop of whipped cream.

A contented groan escaped your lips, and Javi mirrored your reaction upon his first sip.

“Te amo (I love you),” you whispered, your voice brimming with affection.

“Yo más (I love you),” he replied, and you didn’t doubt him one bit.

Four months had passed since you moved out of your shared home with Jack. Javi had been persistent in taking you out during this time, wanting to distract you from the changes in your life. On a Friday night, he suggested a diner he had heard about, and there you were, parked in the lot of an unfamiliar place.

Javi turned off his truck, he turned to you, and told you to wait. Before you could object, he hopped out of the vehicle. Quickly, he was by your passenger door, extending his hand to assist you.

"Javi, I'm not that far along. I can get out by myself," you protested, not giving him your hand at first.

“¿Y si te lastimas? (And if you get hurt?)” he replied, concern in his eyes. You relented and placed your hand in his, and he guided you down from the truck with an excess of "watch your step" warnings that made you playfully roll your eyes.

Once you were safely on the ground, you offered a begrudging "thank you" and pulled him close, placing a kiss on his cheek. Under the red light emanating from the diner's sign, you couldn't see it, but Javi's face had turned scarlet.

Before you could step away, he said, "Wait," and took off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders.

You returned his sweet gesture with a warm smile, and Javi fought the urge to lean down and kiss you. Instead, he wrapped his arm around you and guided you to the front entrance of the restaurant.

The neon lights of the diner read 'Angel's Diner' in red.

"I like that name," you both said simultaneously and then shared a laugh as you heard each other voice the same thought.

With a grin, Javi said, "C'mon." He ushered you into the diner, and a friendly hostess in a bright blue uniform greeted you.

"Welcome, y'all. My name is Trixie, follow me," she smiled, picking up two menus before leading you deeper into the restaurant. She kindly asked if you had a seating preference, and Javi requested a table in the back corner.

The diner's interior was adorned with a color scheme of red, white, and black. The counter had a glossy checked pattern, accompanied by red spinning stools. Though it wasn't packed, there were scattered customers throughout.

Trixie guided you to a cozy booth in the back, placing two menus on the table. Javi helped you onto the bench and took the opposite seat, facing you. His back was against the wall, providing a clear view of the front door and the entire layout of the diner.

The walls were adorned with picture frames, except for one side, which faced a large window. A short, white curtain hung from the window frame, delicately covering the edges. The curtain was decorated with flower cutouts along the bottom, and a long stitched green line ran across the curtain with embroidered leaves on either curtain sheet. On the stitching, there were four roosters made from silk material.

"Would ya'll like to order drinks?" the hostess, who also doubled as a waitress, asked.

"Yes, please," you replied and your eyes quickly scanned the drink section. The thought of a chocolate milkshake was mouthwatering. "I'll have a chocolate milkshake, please.”

"I'll have a strawberry milkshake, please," Javi ordered.

"Coming right up," Trixie said cheerfully. "I'll be back with your shakes and take your order," she assured before walking away.

“¿Qué vas a pedir? (What are you going to order?)” Javi asked as he perused his own menu.

"Mmm, I don't know," you grumbled as you flipped through the menu. "I want something sweet but savory," your eyes landed on something. "Ooo, chicken waffles sound good," you said, already savoring the idea.

"That does sound good," Javi agreed just as the waitress showed up with the milkshakes.

She placed the chocolate one in front of you and the strawberry in front of Javi. Javi noticed the rings they left on the table, so he grabbed two coasters and placed the shakes on top. "Are you ready to order?" she asked.

"We are," Javi confirmed. "We'll have two orders of the chicken waffles," he told Trixie. "Do you want anything else?" he asked you.

"No, that's it, thank you," you replied, your mind already set on the delicious chicken and waffles.

"Alright, it'll be out in a few minutes," the waitress assured and took your menus before she walked away to place your order.

You took a sip of your chocolate milkshake and felt a pang of disappointment; it didn't quite satisfy your craving.

Your eyes lingered on Javi's strawberry milkshake. The pink, thick liquid in his cup made your mouth water.

Javi quickly noticed your expression.

"I don't really like the strawberry milkshake," Javier lied. He was confident that you wouldn't have asked for a sip, and he didn't want you to feel like you had to waste your chocolate shake.

“Hubiera ordenado el de chocolate (I should’ve ordered the chocolate one),” he grumbled. "Do you like yours?" Javier asked.

"Sí. 'Ta bueno (Yes. It’s good)," you replied, even though it was a white lie.

"Wanna trade?" Javi suggested.

"Yes, please," you beamed and switched the milkshakes with him.

Javi loved strawberry milkshakes, but he loved you more than anything.

You took a sip of your new strawberry shake, and it was exactly what you had been craving. Javi couldn't help but smile, knowing he had made you happy.

Trixie brought the food and set down the plates of chicken and waffles along with a salt and pepper shaker holder with a rooster standing on rocks in the middle.

"Enjoy," she said with a warm smile and left.

You glanced at the curtains and the salt and pepper shakers, instantly reminded of a childhood memory you and Javi shared, and you burst into laughter.

"Remember when you chased that rooster around trying to catch it with your bare hands?" you asked amid fits of laughter.

Javi joined in your laughter at the recollection.

"¿Y por qué hiciste eso? (And why did you do that?)" you asked, genuinely curious about his motivations.

"I was trying to show off!" he admitted.

"Why?" You chuckled.

"Because I wanted to impress you," he confessed.

"And you thought I would have been impressed by you catching a damn chicken? I begged you to stop," you laughed.

“Ey, preteen boys do anything to impress their crush," Javi explained, not quite realizing the implication behind his words.

"Wait, you had a crush on me?" your question made him suddenly aware of what he had admitted.

"Uh, yeah," he replied and rubbed his neck bashfully. "I never stopped. In fact, I love you," he confessed, unable to hold back his feelings.

"I'm sorry, you're going through a lot, I didn't mean to-" Javi began, but you didn't let him finish.

"No!" You said firmly, and the sudden attention from others made you instinctively lower your voice. Javi reached out, gently taking your hand in his. You continued, "It's fine. Maybe... maybe we can see where we are in a few months from here?"

His face lit up with the most heartwarming smile, and you knew that resistance was futile. You had already started falling for him.

A/N: I haven't been the most consistent writer on here, and I apologize for that. In addition to my irregular schedule, I also got sick with COVID, but I'm much better now :) I did my best with the graphic, but I'm not really satisfied with it, so I'm sorry about that 😖 My favorite graphic that I've ever created is for 4K:

I didn't originally intend to post that particular fic, but I was going through my usual routine for this chapter, and then suddenly, I found myself creating a graphic for 4K?? Anyway, there is one more chapter left if I decide to space the rest out the way I think I want to. Hopefully, I'll be able to upload the next one sooner than I did with this one!

I know that in my previous chapters, Jack's dialogue didn't accurately reflect his Southern accent. Being the first English speaker in my family and living in the DMV area, I'm not well-versed in the Southern accent. I tried to fix this in the current chapter by adjusting Jack's dialogue to better represent a Southern accent, with the keyword being 'tried.'

Speaking of dialogue, I think I have problems with it. I'm Autistic, and one of the diagnostic features is difficulties in social communication, which I struggle with. I hope that my dialogue doesn't come across as dry 😕

As always, thank you for reading!

Taglist: @kchavez666 @ttupelohoneyy @mishasminion360 @ilovetaquitosmmmm @stileslvr @pedrostories

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teddypickerry · 11 months

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nikki sixx (himself or douglas booth! nikki) x reader

Could you do one where the reader happens to also be a bassist and they’re both in Crüe, they’ve been close friends for a while and Mick notices that they’ve developed a close relationship and he has a talk with Nikki since Mick is like a older brother to the reader. Meanwhile Tommy attempts to flirt with the reader trying to push Nikki to confess.

Pretty much a cute fluff imagine :)

𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐌.

pairings — nikki sixx x fem! band member reader (also reader x tommy kinda)

word count — 919

warnings — just cursing & suggestive dialogue (it’s mötley mf)

a/n — lowkey disappeared off this app for a month just to come back with a shitty fic. anyways, writing as mick is so fucking fun.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" A common phrase heard by each and every member of Mötley Crüe. When Mick Mars so suddenly spoke it to the bassist, who was currently stuffing his face with pasta. "Eating?" Nikki had asked hesitantly, confused why Mick was stood in his dressing room with a bottle of something strong. It definitely wasn't lemonade. "No, that's not what I mean."

"Well, you asked," Nikki scoffed at the guitarist's words while Mick pulled up and a chair to the couch. Nikki was alone in his dressing room, for the first time in forever. No groupies, no girls. Which was different for the bassist... practically against his religion. "What the hell are you doing with Y/N?"

Oh. That was enough to make the bassist choke on his food as he threw the bowl to the couch, swallowing down the food with a swig of Jack Daniels. He finally coughed and calmed down. Mick was still staring at him like he'd just walked into Nikki banging his daughter. "She's my friend, she's your friend. Fucking whatever."

"Shitty excuse," Mick scoffed as he sat back in the chair and took another comfortable sip. He wasn't giving up anytime soon, which was obvious by his body language. "God, what do you want, Mars?"

"Stop being a little fucker and ask the girl out already. I shouldn't have to tell you how to do every fucking thing, Sixx." Mick scoffed making Nikki roll his eyes, trying to keep his tough-guy demeanor. "And, don't fuck it up. She's special, she's our bandmate. And she's beautiful, graceful, and she'll punch you in the face. So, don't be a jackass."

"Nice talk," Nikki commented as he stood up and began to hairspray his hair in the mirror in preparation for their show later that night. Mick's words stuck in Nikki like heroin. He started thinking about them and he knew he was right. He had to face his feelings and get it out of his system. It wasn't that easy, you were a member of the band. You weren't some chick. A disastrous relationship would lead to the end of the band. The band you'd all worked your asses off to create.

"I didn't mean do it eventually, I meant now. Before Tommy fucks her in the back alley," Mick added making Nikki turn to him in horror. The sleazy drummer had a way of stealing Nikki's girls, vice versa. It was an ongoing game between the two, a pretty girl equals one of them getting her. But this time... Nikki would bet his life on this round.

The bassist bolted out of his dressing room and past the millions of randos backstage. His feet carried him down the hall toward the stage, where he knew everyone was setting up for rehearsal. Specially where he heard the sound of your laugh and the sound of drumsticks falling to the ground. That was a pretty easy trail to his best friends. Which did in fact lead to the drummer twirling his sticks in his fingers, you stood prepping your own bass with a smile.

"You've got a great smile," Tommy grinned with his typical cocky look. You'd known Tommy for years on end and his innocent flirting never stopped. It also never bothered you, as it was all you knew from the bastard drummer. But over the past few months, Nikki seemed to bite back a glare anytime he heard it from either Vince or Tommy. "I mean it, really."

"Thanks, T-Bone," You flashed him your small grin before going back in with another pack of pics. You tested out a quick riff for the sound crew as Nikki simply stood there, finally erupting from the shadows. Tommy took this as an invitation — knowing he could get Sixx all hot and bothered with a few simple words. He twisted the drumsticks with his fingers as he glanced between you and Nikki. His eyes landed on you. "You think you could do this?"

"I mean it's not rocket science," You mocked while taking the bass off and sitting it against a chair. "Well I'm pretty good at it, I'm pretty good with my fingers. Wanna find out more?" Tommy so obviously flirted making you laugh as you playfully tapped Nikki's arm. Nikki just gave Tommy a harsh look at this, that didn't exactly match your grin. "Yeah, okay, T-Bone. I bet you are."

"So good, you can find out if you want," He winked with that goofy smile of his. The one that made you shake your head as Nikki subconsciously stepped closer to you and crossed his arms. "Yeah, she's not into that." Nikki was quick to say making both sets of eyes look over at him. Tommy held a proud smile at this, "Are you saying she's into you though?"

"What if I did?" Nikki cocked like he owned the place. Your eyes darted between the two for a moment before stepping up. "Will you two shut the hell up and start rehearsing?"

"Yes ma'am," Nikki nodded while Tommy shot you an army 'yes sir' nod. The drummer walked off to his setup leaving you and the bassist to your lonesome. Nikki seemed to glance around before his eyes fell back on you. "So..."

"Let's have dinner tomorrow," You spoke before he had a chance to process it, and walked away. He watched you walk away with a smile. Knowing he had actually won.

#teddypickerry #nikki sixx x reader #nikki sixx blurb #nikki sixx #nikki sixx oneshot #nikki sixx x fem reader #tommy lee x reader #tommy lee #vince neil #mick mars #mötley crue fic

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toriangeli · 4 days

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One of my favorite things about how Anne Rice writes historical fiction: she doesn't sugar-coat her characters.

As in, there was never going to be any way all these vampires going back 6000 years were going to align with modern sensibilities. They're not savory. They suck.

First off, any male of status from before the Great Depression probably did, in fact, look at an underage girl and think, "she LOOKS like she could grow up cute and interesting, but do I want to wait to ask her dad and risk someone else calling dibs in the meantime?"

Lestat: Killed majestic, beautiful animals that were only trying to feed themselves. To save the lives of people who were counting on him, yeah, but still.

Marius: Literally from ancient Rome, lots of ideals from that time, pederastic relationship with Armand, see above disclaimer about males from prior to the Great Depression.

Armand, Santino, most of the de Landens: I do feel like the Children of Darkness/Satan wouldn't have been founded in our time, as evidenced by Lestat so easily disbanding them with basic Enlightenment talking points, so I think it counts.

Louis: LITERALLY OWNED SLAVES. And not in a bullshit "but I treat them so nice and they'd just be owned by someone mean if not for me!" way, he legit believed this was what black people were for. Until he became a vampire and all humans looked equal(ly foodlike) to him.

Gabrielle: Let other people raise her kids while she became a library hermit.

Maharet and Mekare: Cannibals. Oh, sorry. Respectful cannibals.

Khayman: Nnnot even gonna be sarcastic about this one. He was as much a victim of it as Maharet and Mekare, hence them not blaming him in the slightest. But people today would be put on trial for following an order like that one, so I figure it belongs here.

Daniel: idk probably unprotected gay sex. It was the 70's.

Claudia: Gets a pass. She was five. All the bad shit she does is unrelated to her time.

Mael: Helped keep a vampire captive for years, then proceeded to kidnap someone and force them to become a vampire, all because "idk we're kooky druids and it's our religion."

Everard: Laughs at Benedict for being kidnapped and having his blood stolen. Victim-blaming at its finest.

Akasha and Enkil: I mean, we know what they did, but everyone hated them in their own time, too, so.

Eudoxia: Jesus Christ.

Davis: HAS NEVER DONE ANYTHING WRONG EVER IN HIS LIFE. /protects him forever #theonlyinnocentvampireprobably

And you know what? I'd take the worst of these over Bill Compton, Damon Salvatore, or Whassisface Cullen fighting for the Confederacy because "the greater good." Like bro. At least the dickheads above are being honest about it and we can judge those parts of them appropriately. You're trying to make us think you were doing something honorable by being vague. We know what you were really fighting for, and so do you.

Moral of the story: If you're gonna be evil, trying to be sneaky about it only makes it worse.

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singeratlarge · 2 years

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peter chauncey’s SONG OF THE WEEK: “Numbers for Days” https://peterchauncey1.bandcamp.com/track/numbers-for-days

electronic drums/special effects - Daniel Berkman

bass, background vocals, production - Johnny J. Blair vocals, keyboards - peter chauncey

mixing, mastering – Will Mandell

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deathsbestgirl · 2 months

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like i just love skeptic mulder & believer scully. they are SO important to me.

mulder wants to believe, scully is afraid to believe but she does. mulder is so skeptical and fights everyday to believe. i think about quagmire and how he wanted something tangible. i think about endgame and how he was struggling to hold onto his quest, and running off without telling scully & endangering himself...he at least found his faith to keep looking. he has always wanted proof, but he wanted to believe so badly he took every single person at their word and believed the things he saw and scully reminded him about the kind of proof they need. and its like in the pilot — scully believed because of dirt. she still wanted more proof, but it was enough for her believe that something crazy was going on — and mulder is the one to bring her back down to earth.

scully took her skeptic role very seriously after that. deep throat solidified it because he would even believe high teenagers. and she learned how much he needed back up because he will go to extreme lengths to find proof. so she makes it her job to prove anything she can — and it excites scully so much. in squeeze, not only does she solidly place herself on the victims' side, on mulder's side...they found a liver eating human mutant!!

i also find it extremely interesting that in miracle man (the first religious episode?) that scully is not taken in by samuel, but mulder is. this is months after conduit where he cries in a church of a god he doesn't believe in, but i think he wants to believe in god too. but believing in an all powerful god who lets these horrible things happen (but doesn't that ignore free will?) is too much for him. i think the one thing mulder truly believes in is the good of humanity. he tries to understand the worst people and when all he finds is evil, he writes them off completely (boggs, roche). (and someone like gerry schnauz, a schizophrenic man, he believes gerry thinks he's helping the women he lobotomizes & kills.) and he didn't believe samuel because of god or religion, but mulder believed him to be psychic. scully spent this entire episode concerned about mulder, which she often is. not because he's believing, but because she ~knows what drives him and she knows how he can get lost in cases that remind him of samantha.

scully's number one job is mulder's protector. she tries to make it safe for him to believe and seek the truth. she does that with science & facts, finding the proof...and following him any & everywhere.

anyway. they can both be hypocrites but it's often out of fear and the discomfort of stepping outside of their roles. they are roles they play and strengthen their relationship. but it also makes it difficult until they figure out how to be flexible. to allow space for their ranges in belief & skepticism. allowing the other to change them and understanding it won't ruin their partnership, or their work.

like kae said, scully learns from mulder. she's always learning. but so is mulder. it's also what makes season six so great. they're constantly confronting it and by the time all things comes around, mulder can believe scully talks to god even if he doesn't believe in god and even if that isn't how scully understood it. wherever that vision came from, she let it help her save daniel and validate her choices, understanding what she wanted and how all of her choices lead her there. finally knowing it's exactly what she wants, she's not the girl she used to be and she can find relief & happiness in that. like she tells him in je souhaite.

it's just really beautiful to me. sometimes scully's still afraid to believe but she does it. because mulder gives her courage. and sometimes mulder still struggles to believe, but scully always gives him the space & safety to find his way back to it.

#this is very possibly nonsense #and i may have said this before but #I JUST LOVE THEM #like. they were just so made for each other #their entire lives got them ready for the other #and then they made sure they got there #even when they didn't know it yet #mine

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moonysfavoritetoast · 3 months

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Introduction !!

last updated 4/14/24

about me

hi i’m evan or cosmo :)

i’m a minor (in middle school), don’t be a creep.

i use he/they pronouns, i’m transmasc, non-binary, and bisexual (very prevalent, i am always going insane over someone different)

prob somewhere on the ace spectrum

FREE PALESTINE

MY PFP WAS DRAWN BY MY LOVELY WIFE @meerealsssss

first post limit 3/12/24

expect vent posts from time to time

also also currently going batshit crazy over hazbin hotel

i complain a lot, sorry

apathetic

will x isaac

deer :3 and and german shepherds :3

my hero is my father

watch just add magic, do it please /nf

nico <3

starr <3

alex <3

ace <3

mee <3

my wife is @meerealsssss

my wife is @homoashell

my wife is @catinasink

my wife is also undyne

my wife is also mrs claus

my wife is trashcan carla

my husband is @nasadoggo

my husband is @homoashell

my husband is @catinasink

my husband is the man in the yellow hat

my husband is terzo. i will not be taking criticism at this time.

my husband is also rick sanchez

my husband is also jazon broadly

my husband is also izerah (fuck you what is his last name, mee?)

pac-man is also my husband

my husband is alastor (hazbin hotel)

lucifer is my husband (hazbin hotel)

my husband is rj maccready:3

my husband is john hancock (the gay one)

my husband is the ghoul (on my knees for that cowboy ass mf)

my husband is ford pines

lord farquaad is my husband

my partner is @alexthescaredenby <3 <3 <3

my partner is @homoashell <3

my partner is @catinasink <3

likes/dislikes

like: music, tv, friends, my cat, cool socks, writing, rick sanchez, genloss, tadc, musicals/theatre, undertale/deltarune, ducks

dislike: loud noises, silence, school

i’m currently obsessed with: ghost, dreamscape nexus, rick and morty, gravity falls, etc

i post about:

• marauders

• (mostly) random thoughts

• dreamscape nexus

• other random things

• rick and morty

• gravity falls

• percy jackson

• undertale/deltarune

• hazbin hotel

• helluva boss

family/friends/pets

i have a younger sister (i call her crotch demon online)

i have a cat named daniel tiger

i have two dogs, gunner and roxie

my irl friends:

@meerealsssss (claudia) (fake name)

@nasadoggo (ace my beloved)

timezone

EST

if you’re interacting with me past midnight, i’ll probably be a bit sillier than normal

DNI

maps/pedophiles, z00philes, bigots, ED and porn blogs

if you don’t like furries and therians please get the fuck away from my blog

and if you shit on other’s religions, get away

what can you call me?

no: feminine related terms (unless you’re using them in a gender neutral way or as a joke) like girl, sister, wife, etc (bbg is always ok)

yes: boy, guy, partner, husband, dude, man (basically anything masculine/gender neutral)

sideblogs

@ricksanchezsboyfriend is my rick and morty sideblog

@mountainsmissingshoes is my ghost sideblog

@alastorsbigdick is my hazbin hotel rp sideblog (matching ace)

@giddingstexasenthusiast is my southern mom rp blog

@cryingunderstars is my writing sideblog

i am also @hadesfavoritechild

extra info

i’m a leo (idfk i was born in early august)

tone tags appreciated

i’m some flavor of neurodivergent (except i’m clueless as to what it actually is)

i play trumpet

i’m a gryffindor

child of hades

i speak english (eventually will learn french, might learn swedish)

atheist and satanist

feminist

alterhuman

i write

i live in michigan and i guess this is shameful (shrimp bullies me for it)

i kin dipper pines

i have another sideblog. if you find it, idk i’ll give you chocolate or something (it’s embarrassing)

fuck wilbur soot. if i post about lovejoy, please know that i do not support him.

ask me about ghost (band) i have an oc and want to talk about them

send anon asks

tags!

• screenshots of dm’s/discord/texts: #evan leaks their texts

• lyrics: #evan screams lyrics at you

• my asks: #evan gets an ask *gasp*

• anything related to my book w/ @meerealsssss: #brokenly beloved

• anything related to moonlex (@alexthescaredenby and i’s ship name): #moonlex tag

• dreamscape nexus: #dreamscape nexus / #dn

• bracelets i make: #evan’s bracelets

• ace’s shit quotes: #ace needs to shit

• me talking about the man in the yellow hat: #tevan tag

• pictures of me: #literally evan

• me screaming about something: #on todays episode of evan is slowly going insane

• certain anon who signs off with a ☀️: #☀️ anon

• everything else: #evan's rambles

people i talk about

my teachers :3

• mr sharpie/mr shark is my band teacher (he/him)

• mr boner/mr skeleton is my science teacher

• mrs dodds is my math teacher

• mr margarita/mr margarine is my social studies teacher

• ms kopykat is my english teacher

• mrs seals is the old ass transphobic building substitute

• mama is a teacher from last year (she/her)

• ms k is our student teacher in ela (she/her)

my irl friends :3

• crotch demon is my sister (she/her)

• my sweet little expired english muffin is @meerealsssss (she/her)

• ace @nasadoggo (any pronouns)

• wife part two is my wife, she asked me to not name her here (she/her)

• al/allie is from school :3 (she/her)

• smurf is from school (blue hair, hence the nickname) (he/him)

• tomato is from school (silly :3) (he/him)

• boom boy/isaac is from school (he made me a netherite pickaxe after someone else burned mine // the pick had unbreaking // boom boy likes tnt) (he/him)

• boomerang/matt is from school (he/him)

• (irl) alex is from school :3 (he/they)

• khris is from school

• colten is from school (father) (he/him)

• will @skibitygamer is from school (he/him)

• dom is from school (he/him)

• luca is from theatre

• maryn is from theatre

parents are now getting their own nicknames

• hades is my dad (he/him)

• will come up with one for my mom (she/her)

where else can you find me?

youtube

wattpad (please don’t take this seriously)

tiktok (i do not post on this account)

facebook mom account

and discord (@moonysfavoritetoast)

#intro post

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thoughtfulfoxllama · 7 months

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Ok, so it's Fast Sunday in my Ward, and I'm eating Graham Crackers in my In-Laws Ward Lobby, so let's talk about Fasting

Fasting in Mormonism is pretty basic: no food or drink for 24 hours or 2 meals. I never said basic was simple though, so let's deconstruct that

For one, why is it 24 hours or 2 meals? Are we supposed to only eat 2 meals a day? Honestly, I have no idea. Pres Joseph F Smith moved the Church's Fast Day to Sunday (it was Thursday before then) in the early 1900s, and defined a fast as evening to evening. So, maybe the idea of 2 meals or 24 hours is whether you eat Dinner before you start your fast or not (in 1976, Pres Nelson wrote an Ensign Article, where he said that Fasts should be 2 Meals, with no indication of 24 hours, meaning that, to him at least, Evening Meals should not be skipped)

Next, what's considered "food and drink?" Does water count, for example? Everything I've found says "it's personal." In Utah, the custom is to not drink water, but in order to understand what's allowed, we must look at the purpose of fasting. The Purposes of a Fast are increased spiritual connection & to help the poor and needy through increased empathy (encouraging is to help them) and generous fast offerings. If you ask me, not drinking water is counterintuitive to the first purpose. So, I understand the traditional LDS Fast to deal with Calories & Pleasure. If you can, abstain from food, and liquids aside from water. If you can't (for example, I need to eat with my medicine), then eat plain foods as needed

But, we're not the only Faith that requires Fasting. How do they do it (there's definitely more, but these are the ones I'm familiar with):

Judaism: Judaism has several fast days. In addition to optional fasting on Mondays, Thursdays, and the day before the start of the month, they have 6 main fasts. 4 of them are from Dawn to Dusk, but the 9th of Av Fast & Yom Kippur fasts are from Sunset to Sunset, with an abstinence from all Food and Drinks (with additional abstinence from Leather Shoes, Bathing, and Sexual Relations on Yom Kippur). And since Yom Kippur is tomorrow, I wish a Meaningful Yom Kippur to any Jewish People who come across this post before the fast

Islam: In Islam, they have the Month of Ramadan. During this month, Muslims will abstain from all Food, Drink, Tobacco, Sexual Relations, and Sinful Behavior (such as swearing) during daylight hours, instead replacing them with Prayer & Study of the Quran. They also have 2 meals, one before the fast, and one after

Christian: Christianity has so many branches, so obviously has the most distinctions. Many Christians practice a Eucharistic Fast (where they fast before taking the Eucharist, or in Mormon Terms, the Sacrament). Early Christians would also fast on Wednesday & Friday, to commemorate the Betrayal & Death of the Savior. There are also 2 seasons of fasting: Lent & Advent. Lent begins with a fast from all Food and Liquid (known as a Black Fast) on Ash Wednesday, and ends with a Black Fast on Good Friday. During Lent, Christians abstain from a certain bad habit they have (such as smoking), and are expected to increase their Prayer, Study, and Alms (or Fast Offerings as we'd call them). On Fridays during Lent (as well as all Wednesdays & Fridays in Orthodox Christianity), they participate in a Lesser Fast, where one lessens food intake (2 small meals during sunlight hours) and only need abstain from Olive Oil, Dairy Meat, and Fish until sundown. There's also the Daniel Fast, which was a diet where only Kosher food could be eaten, but now refers to only eating Whole Grains, Fruits, Vegetables, Pulses, Nuts, Seeds, and Oils (for the Lesser Fast & the Daniel Fast, that's just being Vegan. So I guess Vegans really are holier than I /j)

Faith of the Seven (A Song of Ice & Fire): I know it's not a real religion, but it came to mind when typing. Whenever Priests in this religion saw the need, they would fast from everything except Bread & Water. (Warning, if done for 40 days straight, this can lead to death and being known as a fanatical king)

Long story short: don't judge how people fast. Not everyone fasts the same way, or even can. I fast from everything except water. I also fast at the New Moon. But if you can only handle a Daniel Fast, then as long as you use it as an opportunity to serve your fellow man (direct service or fast offerings), and come closer to God, that's what matters

#mormon #lds #tumblrstake #queerstake #fasting #mormon fast #fast sunday

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yellowocaballero · 1 year

Note

I love how your Bruce is traditional but it is also like a mix of different types of traditional. Like he comes across as both "Rich white old money type" traditional AND "member of a marginalized minority group who take great pride in their identity to cope with years of ostracization and going "the world wanted me dead for my culture and religion so i might as well die loud and proud instead of conforming to their unachievable ideals" " traditional

Thank you for this ask, I really love it! I have a shitton to say on this topic, including a lot of worldbuilding decisions on Gotham cultures, immigrant spaces, segregation, how it ended up like 1920s-1930s NYC/Chicago mixed with my own city, Jason "Foil" Todd's Inferiority Complex, but that would make this depressingly long. Long time readers would know that I have, like, really complex and discrete religion headcanons for everybody I write. It's important.

Any decent Batman Story (TM) is about Gotham. It has to be a huge presence. It's like writing Dick Tracy without Chicago, or Cheers without Boston. When he's written well, Batman is a reflection of Gotham, and they metaphorically represent each other.

Most Batman writers get this, so there's always a lot of historical worldbuilding and everything. But I'm a community health person, and I grew up in the inner area of my own very large city, and creating a Gotham that feels real and rich is more complicated than the Court of Owls stuff. For me, cities are the intersection of culture, community, history, oppression/SES/war etc, and the modern day to day lives of people. When I want to make a rich city that was relevant and important to the story, I wanted to focus on immigrants and cultural minorities. You know - the people who create the cities lol. I decided on a history that involved the idea that Jewish families were the oldest in Gotham, and that they were one of the people to help create it and influence its culture.

I read a Daniel Handler quote just now that said "there is something naturally Jewish about unending misery". What is more Batman, Bruce, and Gotham than that, lol. The Jewish diaspora experience - the traditional history just as you outlined it in your ask - is baked into Gotham, it's the foundation. Gotham is a city of unending misery, but it's a city that stands tall. It takes a thousand hits and always gets back up again. People within it experience unending poverty and suffering, but they stand together. Just fucking refuse to die, as a whole. What's more Jewish than that! What is more Batman than that! Gotham should always be allegorical for Batman and Bruce, and through Gotham existing in that traditional Jewish experience, I think that's where you got the impression of Bruce as very traditional too.

Tim and the Drakes are the modern reflection of this. I was extremely explicit that Tim is alone in the world because of the Holocaust. I talk a lot in the story about how war and violence destroy children's lives, and that stretches back to the 1940s. About how war and violence creates violent children, which is what Tim became. His acting out was from the trauma of seeing his family slaughtered in front of him, and like a lot of people he used his religion to justify it.

There's a reason why the very first moment when Tim and Bruce actually connect as a family is when they find kinship and understanding through their shared backgrounds and values. They both saw their families slaughtered, they're both alone in the world - but they found each other, and they'll keep living.

OK BELIEVE IT OR NOT THAT'S THE SHORT VERSION. Seriously, though, I'm not. Uh. Actually fucking Jewish. This is like the fourth time I've talked out of my ass about this. I'm actually really interested in reading about the actual Jewish themes in Batman, because from what little I know they HAVE to be there. Any smart people out there who know about it, or who can link something written about it?

#tw holocaust #my asks #my writing #fwiw I think of Bruce as an atheist and Tim as pretty religious #I always write Bruce as really alienated from his Jewish heritage/culture #and his relationship with Tim (or jason in rr) reconnecting him with that #in nw that generational trauma is also why tim's parents weren't great parents.#heartbreaking! 25 years ago your mom was a survivor!#sucks.#i think i accidentally started thinking of tim as religious #because of that one time i wrote him as having come back from the dead after killing himself #and like anybody would get into god after that. and it stuck a bit for me #new story covid puppy Tim makes like an extremely smug point to call judaism dumb #kid has stuff going on.#hm I think I may have very persistent themes of returning to religion and religious heritage as a method of healing #not gonna psychoanalyze that! bye!#i feel like a fucking fanfic writer conservative for all i talk about masculinity and jesus

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 9 months

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Minimal Loss: Part Three

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Summary: You and Spencer go undercover to a ranch that is run by a man who thinks he’s God. When you and Spencer are trapped there, you will do anything to protect him, even if it means putting yourself in danger.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

"The former sect leader is here. Rossi, this is Daniel Vale," JJ says once she arrives on scene.

Daniel used to be part of the ranch, and he knows all about Ben and the ranch.

"Anything you can tell us about this situation?"

"Charles Mulgrew is his real name, not Benjamin Cyrus. His mother was five months pregnant when she showed up at our doorstep. He turned out to be one of the smart ones. Amazing memory that kid had. Anything he read, he could repeat back to you. He was a mouthy little son of a bitch."

"Why did he leave the ranch?" Derek asks.

"When he was seventeen, a couple of our young girls came to me and said that he'd been messing with them sexually. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm a libertarian but those little girls were too young for a seventeen-year-old to be messing with."

"So, you kicked him out for that?"

"Yes, sir. I did. His mother took him to Kentucky. I hadn't heard anything from him for years, and when he finally showed up again, he said his mother had died. He found God, and he wanted to come home."

"How does a kid like that get rid of you?"

"One day, he came to me and said God told him that I should leave the ranch. I said if God felt that way, God can tell me himself. He put a gun to my head and said, 'he just did.' It took me twenty years to build that ranch. I'll do anything I can to help you send that ungrateful son of a bitch straight to hell."

"I need a map," Derek says. Daniel is quick to get a detailed map of the ranch, and Derek calls Penelope up for help. "What can you tell me about Charles Mulgrew?"

"Charles Mulgrew was convicted in Kentucky at the age of eighteen with three counts of statutory rape."

"Do we need to talk to the warden?"

"I'm way ahead of you, honey. Mr. Kentucky Warden said that once inside, Mulgrew found religion and became a model citizen."

"Well, it's not that hard to behave when you're in protective custody the whole time," Derek sighs.

"General population's a rough place for a child molester."

"No. I don't think you guys understand. He was a model citizen. This guy volunteered in the AIDS ward at the prison hospital. He was reading to prisoners dying of HIV."

"Thank you."

"Well, this makes things worse," Rossi sighs when Derek hangs up.

"What? That he was a model citizen?"

"That he's been to prison. He knows what happens to child molesters there. If the current sexual allegations are true and he thinks we know it, he's not coming out of there."

"Then we have to make him think he's not going back," Hotch says. "JJ, I need you to release a press statement saying that we have absolutely no evidence of sexual allegations."

"You need to see this," she sighs.

She sets down a laptop on the desk and turns the screen towards everyone else. On it is a news reporter, and she presses play.

"Now well into its second day, the standoff at the Sepatarian Sect Ranch has now been taken over by the FBI. There was much speculation in regard to hostages, but anonymous sources inside the state attorney general's office have told us there is an undercover FBI agent currently being held inside the ranch. Hostage negotiators say they are making headway with the sect's leadership, and are hopeful for a positive outcome. There's still no word as to why an undercover FBI agent was sent in alone."

As soon as Ben sees the news, he is furious. You can feel his anger even before he reaches you. You and Spencer are taken down to the basement where there are no witnesses other than Chris and Ben. You're shoved down onto some boxes while Spencer is sitting across from you on other boxes.

His anger is really scaring you.

"Which one of you is it? Which one of you is the FBI agent?"

You and Spencer look at each other, and thankfully, he handles it.

"Why do you think one of us is an FBI agent?"

"God will forgive me for what I must do."

Ben points his gun at Spencer's face, and your eyes widen. His life is threatened, and you will do anything to keep him safe no matter what.

"Who is it?"

There is no question about it. You don't hesitate, even for a second.

"Me. It's me," you blurt.

Spencer's eyes dart to yours, but you're standing by this decision. Spencer will be safe, and that is the only thing that matters. Your dad wasn't a nice guy sometimes, and he'd often use the belt or other means to punish you. You can take whatever he is about to give you. Spencer will hate you for this, but you don't care.

Ben lowers his gun and grabs you by the hair, yanking you to your feet. Spencer goes to get up, but Chris pushes him back down onto the boxes.

"I'm okay," you whisper. "I'll be fine."

Ben drags you by your hair into the back room where it's just you and him. He throws you to the ground in frustration, and you groan in pain. You rub the back of your head and stand to face him. If he is going to kick, punch, or slap you, then you're not going to show him any weakness.

"I told you not to put me in this position!"

He backhands you so hard you go flying to the ground. He kicks your stomach twice before taking the butt of his gun and slamming it into the side of your face. There are bugs everywhere since Rossi brought them in, so you know they can hear him beating you. You cough up blood but don't let it affect you.

"Get up!" he yells and yanks you to your feet. "Proverbs 20:30 tells us blows and wounds cleanse away evil."

"I can take it," you say, knowing your team can hear you.

"Oh, you can take it?"

"I can take it," you say more firmly.

"Pride comes before the fall."

Ben slaps you again and punches you to the ground, and you moan in pain. Your face is throbbing, your stomach hurts, but your mind is at ease. Spencer is safe. Spencer is okay. He's safe. You're okay. You repeat those four sentences over and over again. Ben knocks on the door, and Chris walks in without Spencer. He doesn't give Spencer time to look inside and see you.

"Tie her up and put her upstairs," Ben orders.

Chris hauls you to your feet and brings you upstairs to one of the bedrooms. You're tied to the bed and left alone, but not long after you're put there, the door creeps open. Kathy, Jessica's mother, comes in with the first aid kit, a bucket of water, and a dry washcloth.

"You should have told Cyrus who you were when you got here. He's a prophet. He predicted Satan's armies would come and lay siege to us."

She dips the washcloth into the water and starts to wipe the blood from your face.

"There's a name for that kind of prophecy--self fulfilling," you groan.

"You don't know how dangerous it is to lie to him."

"I know it would take a brave woman to defy him, knowing the consequences. That woman would have to have a damn good reason to do it."

You know she made the 911 call, but you don't outright say it. She finishes up and leaves you alone in the room. You close your eyes and continue to whisper those four sentences to yourself. You have to believe he is safe because you will reign hell down on whoever hurts him.

Spencer wants nothing more than to go to you and make sure you're okay, but he can't risk himself. He still has Ben's trust, however little that may be. He has to play this smart.

"Did you know she was FBI?" Ben asks Spencer with a glare.

"Nancy told me the woman was a child abuse interview expert from Denver. In the four years I worked with her, Nancy never lied to me before."

"As far as you know. Their law says that a fifteen-year-old girl is a child. Fifty years ago, that same law said a fourteen-year-old was an adult. Have children changed so much in fifty years?"

"I can't tell you the number of times I've investigated abuse charges against small religious groups. Almost all of them turn out to be false."

"What do you think of that?"

"Doesn't really matter what I think."

"It does to me."

"Why?"

"Because God wants to save you. That's why he sent you here."

"On the next call, you should test them. Test the negotiator. Make him prove that he isn't a liar," Spencer suggests.

"How would you suggest I do that?"

"Ask for the identity of the FBI agent."

"No," Chris interjects. "We already know her identity."

"They don't know that."

"Yeah, but the FBI would never tell us."

"They keep on asking you to release people. Tell him you'll release a kid, and you won't harm the agent. If they really care about the children, they'll have to tell you," Spencer says.

"You're trying to get us to release a child," Chris glares.

"It's one kid. If they don't hold up on their end of the deal, you know they can't be trusted."

"He has a point," Ben sides with Spencer. Chris looks down in uncertainty, and this doesn't go unnoticed by Ben. "What is it, Christopher?"

"Some have been talking about leaving."

"Wake the baby. Let them meet the orphan that they've made."

Ben takes out his phone and calls Rossi as Chris leaves to do what he's told.

"How are you doing today, Ben?" Rossi answers.

"I will release a child if you tell me the identity of the FBI agent. I promise no harm will come to her from this point forward."

"I can't give you that information."

"I will send the child now."

With the okay from Ben, Chris releases the child that Jessica was holding yesterday. She walks outside in confusion, and when Rossi sees this isn't a trap, he sends Derek to get her. Derek runs over to the kid and picks her up, holding her close to him.

"We're taking a big risk here, Ben," Rossi sighs once he knows the child is safe.

"Trust is earned."

"Her name is Y/N. She came in with two child service workers to talk to the girls."

"There's a good chance we can work this out, Dave. I'm gonna provide another sign of good faith."

"You're doing a good thing here."

Ben hangs up and turns to Chris.

"Assemble everyone in the chapel. Get Agent Y/N down here."

Chris leaves to get you while the other followers gather everyone inside the church. Spencer is anxious to see you, and when he finally does, his heart breaks into two. You have bruises and cuts on your face, and he wasn't there to protect you. You lock eyes with Spencer, and you immediately feel the guilt come off him in waves.

"It has come to my attention that some of our brothers and sisters have lost their faith in God," Ben tells everyone. "They no longer love us. They want to abandon us. So, when I call out your name, please stand. Todd Sutters. Melanie Sutters. Evan Radley..."

As Ben calls out people's names, Spencer walks over to you since Ben is distracted. He has such a heartbreaking look on his face, but you have to push that down right now.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers emotionally.

"Don't do that," you say in a stern voice. "This was my decision. It's not as bad as it looks. I am fine, I promise you. I love you so much. Now, what's going on here? Who is he calling out?"

"They're the ones who failed the loyalty test. We'll get word to the team. Wait for a sign from outside to indicate what time the raid will come."

Spencer notices Ben watching you two, so he quickly moves away from your side to stay on his good side. He walks over to Ben to rectify the situation.

"I told her she shouldn't have lied to you like that. To either of us."

"Take her back," Ben says to Chris.

Chris is not a gentle man, but you ignore the pain in your wrists.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fan fic #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fan fiction #criminal minds fan fic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds series rewrite #series rewrite #cm season 4

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quercus-queer · 5 months

Text

Happy Thanksgiving otherwise known as Drama with a Side of Turkey... if someone picks a fight with you about current events here is a very brief surface level list of talking points

According to Article 3 of the Geneva Convention and Article 6 of Additional Protocol II collective punishment is a war crime.

Israel Katz himself is quoted as saying "they [Gazans] will not receive a drop of water or a single battery until they leave the world."

Furthermore Article 51 of the Berlin Rules on Water Resources prohibits combatants (in this case the Israeli military from removing water infrastructure.

International Humanitarian Law prohibits any siege depriving civilians of essential goods while Yoav Gallant's "defense tactics" are a complete blockade of Gaza. It is well documented by the United Nations and journalists how deprived the civilians in Gaza are by the Israeli aggression.

The so-called gracious “evacuations” ordered by Israel is a crime according to the International Criminal Court under forcible transfer.

The use of white phosphorus violates Protocol III of the Convention on Certain Conventional Weapons as the Israeli army is using it directly against human beings in a civilian setting.

Gaza is one of the most densely populated areas on earth with 47.3% of the population being under 18 there is no circumstance in which any incendiary weapon should be deployed in Gaza let alone community centers.

In case there is doubt, there are videos of white phosphorous being used in broad daylight and on hospitals (Al-Durrah Children's Hospital).

The air strikes themselves violate international law as Daniel Hagari himself has stated that the emphasis of the Israeli air strikes is on damage and not on accuracy.

The Israeli government has carried out air strikes on the Al-Shati refugee camp sheltering over 90,000 refugees from Israeli aggression.

Targeting commercial centers like the Jabalia camp market which has been attacked multiple times since October 7th is a war crime.

It is a war crime to target buildings dedicated to education or charitable purposes.

On October 17th Israel carried out an airstrike on the United Nations Relief and Works Agency school in the Al-Maghazi refugee camp. A United Nations school within a refugee camp.

Israeli officials later claimed United Nations workers are Hamas allies

Medical neutrality as described under the Geneva Convention has been violated as stated by the World Health Organization…

Every hospital bombed is another war crime Israel has committed. Bringing back the white phosphorus issue, Israel hit Al-Durrah Children's Hospital with white phosphorus munition. Bringing back water resources and collective punishment (which I hope we established was bad), the remaining hospitals are collapsing due to lack of electricity and water.

"But Hamas tunnels! Human shields! Guards! Weapons!" None of that negates a hospital's protected status as described in the Geneva Convention.

It is a war crime to attack buildings dedicated to religion regardless of who is housed but especially if its housing refugees... obviously... again its in the Geneva Convention.

The Church of Saint Porphyrius, the Al-Gharbi mosque, Yassin mosque, and Al-Sousi mosque have been directly attacked

The intentional targeting of journalists is a war crime according to the Council of Europe.

There are 31 journalists who have been killed along with their families being targeted.

On October 10th Israel bombed a residential building (war crime) which also contained journalist offices (war crime). You can take a pick of whether they were targeting civilians or journalists, either way it’s a war crime.

Killing surrendered civilians OR SURRENDERED COMBATANTS is again a war crime.

Israeli officials still have no comment on the video of IDF forces executing four unarmed Palestinian men kneeling on the ground (one of which was waving white clothing).

Videos have also surfaced of IDF soldiers violating international law by assaulting detainees and committing sexual humiliation.

Israel has expanded their attack to neighboring countries by carrying out air strikes in Lebanon, ready to fulfill their manifest destiny of Greater Israel.

Under the 1998 Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, Israeli settlement of Palestine is a war crime. Obviously that is beyond a lot of peoples willingness to comprehend so lets reiterate what is happening right now.

The average age of dead people in Gaza is 5.

More facts: Israel does not reflect the Jewish people or Jewish values they are a settler colonial state enacting apartheid and committing genocide. Conflating Israel with jewish people is anti-semetic. Evangelicals are the largest zionist group in the world because they are anti-semetic. AIPAC is the largest donor to politicians. Israel has systemically harmed holocaust survivors (1/3 of survivors in Israel are in poverty, they called them "soap bars", and said they were "inferior" as they were like "sheep to the slaughter"). Israel has violated Ethiopian Jewish woman's autonomy (Depo-Provera (contraceptive) every three months in Israeli clinics without their knowledge) and police brutality. Israel is a safe haven for pedophiles.

#gaza #palestine #israel #boycott israel #free palestine #thanksgiving #I’ll add more links to articles if this gets any traction

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