#Dan Wilkinson

[nofatclips]

Poison Oracle & Umdhleblé by Dipygus from the EP Long Pig Feast

[tv-moments]

The Old Man

Season 1, “VI”

Director: Jet Wilkinson

DoP: Sean Porter

[reiniesainyo]

IN BETWEEN. charlie bushnell x reader – 01

01 | SPARKS FLY previous | next | masterfile

SYNPOSIS. when a girl's co-star is good to her and now she wants it more than everything in between. (smau)

A/N. this chapter is more like world building (it's where i explain what the fuck i'm doing with the YN okay)

The "Percy Jackson and the Olympians" series at Disney+ has added an unexpected pick to its growing cast.

The new live-action series is based on the hugely successful novels from author Rick Riordan of the same title. We will be seeing YN LN join the series as Rina Velasco, one of the supporting characters of the show.

LN's Rina Velasco is referred to as "the offspring of The Muses, goddesses of the sciences and the arts." Unlike most other demigods, she is born out of the artistic and scientific output of the muses. When the moral ingenuity of humans meets the divine musings of The Muses. Her character is described as a unique allrounder who becomes a mentor figure to our main cast as they embark on their journey.

This will be LN's first on-screen role of her career. LN's experience mostly lies in Broadway, she is known for playing Kim in the Miss Saigon revival on Broadway. LN was nominated for a Tony in 2022 for the same role. She is repped by Salonga/Chien Entertainment and B817 Agency.

Riordan posted on the Meta app, Threads, about this update to the casting saying: "YN was one of the actors we didn't expect to see a tape of but when we saw it, we couldn't help but fall in love with her. She embodies the spirit of Rina so well and is such a kind spirit, we can't wait for you to fall in love with her too! Welcome to the cast, YN!"

The live-action show is based on Rick Riordan's Percy Jackson book series. It tells the fantastical tale of the titular 12-year-old modern demigod (Scobell), who's just coming to terms with his newfound supernatural powers when the sky god Zeus accuses him of stealing his master lightning bolt. With help from his friends Grover (Simhadri) and Annabeth (Jeffries), Percy must embark on an adventure of a lifetime to find it and restore order to Olympus.

Production on the show is now underway in Vancouver. Riordan and Jon Steinberg are writing the pilot with James Bobin directing. Steinberg and his producing partner Dan Shotz are overseeing the series and serve as executive producers alongside Bobin, Rick Riordan, Rebecca Riordan, Bert Salke, Monica Owusu-Breen, Jim Rowe, Anders Engström, Jet Wilkinson, and Gotham Group's Ellen Goldsmith-Vein, Jeremy Bell, and D.J. Goldberg. 20th Television is the studio. Salke was formerly the president of Touchstone Television and originally put the show into development.

liked by percyseries, iamcharliebushnell, and 37,789 others thelnarchive the child of the muses @percyseries

percyseries OUR MUSE!

user1 this is literally perfect casting who cried i did ↳ user2 she's so rina coded! thank the gods for the casting directors

iamcharliebushnell only muse in my life ↳ thlnarchive only traveler in my life ↳ user3 the way filming hasn't started and they're already like this ↳ user4 their chemistry is chemistry-ing

user5 roman empire. she is my roman empire.

dior.n.goodjohn i LOVE LOVE LOVE women ↳ thelnarchive HELP i love you

user6 this is so fcking random but i NEED her in a taylor swift music video

A/N i truly hope you guys can forgive the horrible editing in the pictures. the article portion is based on (and has some parts that are directly pulled from) this article from variety ! here's some succint information about rina velasco, the PJO character YN LN plays (and is my childhood OC!) - rina velasco, filipino, 18 years old (year younger than luke) - she's an offspring of the muses, not directly a child or daughter, though she may be referred as such - by her being an offspring of the muses, i mean that she was born in the same way athena's children are born. - but in rina's case she's more like a weird conglomeration of each muse. her birth is a rare event, but her mothers are honored as minor goddesses so she stayed in the apollo cabin (connection to music) - rina operates as a guidance figure for the main trio, especially annabeth - she's also luke's love interest, there's a lot of tragicness and doomed romance stuff with those two - and for the sake of everyone, we pretend like the weird i love you from the books didn't happen !

[allthecanadianpolitics]

Environmental groups are asking Ottawa to enforce its rules on an Alberta coal site that has started building an underground test mine without fisheries permits that officials have said are required.

“They can’t just sit back and wait for habitat destruction to occur,” said Ecojustice lawyer Dan Cheater. “We’d like to see them take action.”

Coalspur Mines is planning a large expansion of its Vista thermal coal mine near Hinton, Alta., which would make it the largest thermal coal mine in North America. The company is also planning an underground test mine on the site to determine the feasibility of subsurface mining.

In 2020, then-federal Environment minister Jonathan Wilkinson ordered a joint federal-provincial review of both the expansion and the test mine. That review collapsed last fall when the Supreme Court of Canada ruled Ottawa’s Impact Assessment Act was unconstitutional.

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @politicsofcanada, @abpoli

[goingroguepod]

Ok. So.

"Oh my god, no" is a great pull quote. Looks great on a tweet, great on a t-shirt, but the actually interesting thing he said is buried in the article - "That’s the absolute best version of that movie that you could possibly imagine in the time that was given.”

It's no secret that Gilroy came on after the directors cut, with a limited timeframe for rewrites and reshoots. He ended up running a lot of those reshoots and his regular editor (and brother) John also joined the edit team. They had maybe six months (less with sound mix, VFX etc). Gilroy ended up with a screenplay credit which means that he must have written at least a third of the final film. Again, came on after the directors cut. He rewrote at least a third of the directors cut. And he did the best he could in the time he had.

But the thing is, Andor is a do-over of Rogue One.

There's an undercover break-in to a secure imperial facility by a group of mismatched rebels. Cassian spends time in an Imperial prison labour camp, just like Jyn did (very briefly) in the opening of R1.

There's the devastating death of a parent, a mining city with its own culture being slowly crushed under an Imperial occupation, a career driven Imperial enemy who you kinda root for cos they're surrounded by even bigger assholes.

There's a rebel leadership divided about how much they can sacrifice on missions that might lead to nothing. The Heist crew even has a queer couple divided by one person's single minded faith and use of violence, and a key team member who is an imperial traitor.

And Cassian's central character arc in Andor is going from an apolitical survivor who only looks out for himself because he's paid the price for trying to change the system, to someone who is willing to die for the cause.

Which, on paper, is also Jyn's arc in Rogue One.

But Andor had time. It has about four times the runtime of Rogue One to actually dig deep into the characters, and to actually set-up and play out tensions in the heist and prison arcs.

And it also had time in pre-production. Time to write the damn scripts. Gilroy had time to bounce ideas back and forth with his brother Dan and Beau Willimon, stress testing the story and the episodes and the characters, then they split the scripts and wrote full arcs. In the scripting stage. Not after principal photography, like he had on Rogue One. From those scripts, Luke Hull had the time to build a full, immersive sets and worlds. Michael Wilkinson got to develop a language around the costuming. Nicholas Britell had time to write a full symphony for the score (Michael Giaccino had 4 weeks to write Rogue One's music).

So if you want to know what Tony Gilroy's directors cut of Rogue One looks like - it's Andor.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Okay, everyone, let’s talk Taskmaster speculation. I hate how stuff about the lineup for the following season can overshadow a season before it ends, or sometimes, like in this case, before it starts. It was around this time last year that they announced the Taskmaster season 17 studio filming dates, which perfectly coincided with some live gigs John Robins had canceled, so we all took time to get excited about that s17 lineup spoiler before season 16 had ever begun to air. Now, season 18 hasn’t started yet but we’re already talking about 19.

Spoiler alert, obviously, for vague speculation. I have no inside information or anything, so if you click through, you won’t be party to anything that’s meant to be secret. Just guesses based on publicly available information, which I know some people like to avoid, to preserve the surprise.

First of all, I find this Reddit post from a few weeks ago interesting. That obviously can’t be the exact five person lineup. First of all, Scroobius Pip would be a possible NYT candidate, probably not close enough to comedy for the main show. Secondly, obviously, all-white lineup. Thirdly, there’s no overseas person on the list, and we know from Alex’s recent interview that the season will contain that.

So it won’t be all five, but it could be a few of those. Social media evidence has been surprisingly accurate before, I remember in season 12, people accurately predicted 4/5 names before the studio filming started, just based on who’d recently followed Alex and each other. This may of course be wishful thinking on my part, that such vague social media evidence means anything, because that list contains two people who are on the shortlist of my dream contestants. Josie Long and Chris Addison would both be wonderful on there, particularly if they somehow ended up on the same season as each other.

Josie Long really should be there. She was the only women on the original Edinburgh Taskmaster in 2010, where there were a lot of men. Look at all the men in this video:

The non-Josie Long contestants there were: Dan Atkinson, Jarred Christmas, James Dowdeswell, Tim Fitzhigham, Steve Hall, Tim Key, Lloyd Langford, Mark Watson, Henning Wehn, Joe Wilkinson, Mike Wozniak, and Tom Wrigglesworth. Josie Long spent a lot of years being the "only girl in the lineup" for lots of things, between when she started stand-up in 1997 and when they invented other female comedians in 2014 (I apologize to Jo Brand for that joke, who also spent years holding it down for women on panel shows before they let women on panel shows, no women were allowed to do that stuff in the 00s unless they were named Josephine). I think she should be compensated for that in the 2020s by being allowed to appear on pretty much anything she likes.

More significantly, she was also on the second of the Taskmaster live Edinburgh shows, in 2011. See if you can spot the odd one out in the contestants from The Taskmaster 2011: Bruce Dessau, Dan Atkinson, Henning Wehn, Joe Wilkinson, Josie Long, Lloyd Langford, Mark Watson, Steve Hall, Stuart Goldsmith and Tim Key. Yes, you are right, the odd one out is Bruce Dessau, for not being a comedian. Was he ever a comedian? It did not occur to me to wonder that until right now, did most comedy reviewers start out their careers as comedians, the way most sports commentators started out as athletes in that sport? I don't know. It's not important. But if he was ever a comedian, he sure wasn't one anymore by 2011, and it is notable that when recruiting comedians for his comedy show, Alex Horne brought in the same number of reviewers who don't perform comedy, as he did of women who do perform comedy.

Obviously the odd one out in the above list is actually Josie Long, as the only woman again. And I say this one is more significant because she made the finals, where she faced off against Stuart Goldsmith in a battle of who could fit the most grapes in their mouth, administered by 2010 champion Mike Wozniak:

and she won:

Mike Wozniak won the first live Taskmaster event, and he's been on the TV show. Josie Long, by rights as a live Edinburgh Taskmaster champion, should be. In addition to her being, you know, a very talented comedian and generally funny person who would be absolutely excellent on Taskmaster.

She has now done two full shows in the last five years, and is working on a third, about how she's very very busy these days, creating and then raising two children, and has moved to Glasgow so getting down for London-based comedy shows isn't so easy, so it's possible that she's been offered a spot on previous Taskmaster seasons and turned it down, which would be fair enough. But she should definitely qualify for an offer, for a number of reasons, some of which are real (I do sort of genuinely think that winning one of the original live Taskmaster events should earn someone the chance to be part of it when it becomes a lucrative television show, but obviously far more significant is that she's a very talented comedian and generally funny person who would be absolutely excellent on Taskmaster), and some of which are not (I was joking about the reparations for female comedians who were on panel shows before that 2014 rule, mostly, I mean it does feel like they should get something).

A friend of mine noticed that some gigs she did in London, back in June, had an odd hole in them that could be shaped like the filming of Taskmaster house tasks, for someone who lives in Glasgow and, if she had to go down to London to film a TV show, would want to make the most of the trip and plan some stand-up gigs around it. That, combined with the social media evidence presented on Reddit (and the fact that she surely has more right to a spot than anyone else who's not been on it yet), makes me think there's a reasonable chance of her being on season 19. I may be starting to believe this theory a bit too much, I need to pull back on that so I won't be disappointed if it doesn't happen. It's two pieces of evidence, but they're both fairly flimsy and circumstantial.

Chris Addison was also on that list of people who've moved into Alex Horne's social media orbit, and there is, of course, lots of precedent in his Tweets for making his feelings toward that show clear. First, a couple of Tweets that let us know he's not off in Glasgow doing his own thing; if he's not been on Taskmaster it's because he's not been given the offer:

And he's tried various Twitter tactics to get that offer, including showing off his knowledge of the show:

Flattery:

Selling his potential, and reverse psychology, combined into one Tweet:

And just implying that his casting is inevitable, like that'll manifest it into existence:

Chris Addison has been campaigning for ages to get a Taskmaster spot, and I think he'd make great TV if that happened. God, imagine a team with him and Josie Long together. How excellent would that be? Oh, and if he's on season 19, that's 2/3 of The Department covered in two seasons. Only one more member of that radio show they'd still need, if only Taskmaster would suddenly decide they're interested in casting someone who lives overseas, is a big name there, but maybe still has some connection to British comedy...

No, obviously I know the "overseas contestant" to whom Alex recently referred can't be John Oliver. They'll be filming the studio portions of season 19 during the peak of the American election campaign, John Oliver's a bit busy these days to fly to England and count eggs or whatever. If it was going to happen, it would have been last year during the writer's strike, when John had just done the Horne Section TV show and could surely have fit in an NYT filming. I'd love to get my hopes up, but not this time.

I am interested in the speculation about who the American will be, though. Obviously my first thought was of Paul F. Tompkins, as he's done the Taskmaster podcast twice, both times claiming to be a huge fan of the show, and backing up that claim by frequently beating Ed Gamble at knowing Taskmaster history. He said both times that he'd love to be on it, has even though about things like what his costume would be.

He was my first thought, and then I read that he's performing in the UK in September, so that seems like a pretty strong case for him. I thought I read at some point that he was doing the Comedy Bang Bang tour and then some other gigs with a possible Taskmaster-sized hole in between, and if that were true, it would be very clear evidence, either he's doing Taskmaster or he's pranking the public into thinking he is. But upon further research I don't think that's true, he'd doing the podcast tour and that's it. I still think he's a very likely candidate, just not as clear-cut as if he were doing one thing in Britain, and then another thing with a hole in the middle. If anyone else has also read that thing that I think I read somewhere that says he's doing that, and you know what that is, please let me know because I'd like to know if I've missed something and that's true after all.

My guess for the American contestant is still Paul F. Tompkins, and I think he'd be fun. Admittedly I only know him from Bojack Horseman and those two Taskmaster podcast episodes, but I generally assume anyone who was in Bojack Horseman is probably cool (partly because that show was a masterpiece, but it's not like Paul F. Tompkins wrote it, so I think that view mainly comes from a subconscious assumption I have that anyone who's ever met Kristen Schaal has to be all right), and he was very good on those Taskmaster podcast episodes.

Either way, I think this is a good time for me to jump on the Paul F. Tompkins bandwagon. I've had his stand-up on my list of stuff to get to for ages, and I think I'll watch/listen to that stuff now. If he's on Taskmaster, then great, I've jumped on a bandwagon at the right time and I'll go in knowing more about him. If he's not, I think I'll still have a good time with his comedy, as I keep hearing how great it is. There really is a lot I don't know about American comedy.

Besides Tompkins, from the vague evidence I've seen, I think Hank Green is an outside shot at the overseas Taskmaster contestant. I don't know what Dropout is and I hope Taskmaster doesn't force me to find out.

[natlacentral]

‘Avatar: The Last Airbender’ Renewed For Two Seasons At Netflix; Live-Action Series Will Conclude With Season 3

Avatar: The Last Airbender, the anime-inspired live-action series, will be able to tell the story of the four nations: Water. Earth. Fire. Air after Netflix renewed it for a further two seasons.

The streamer has handed the show a two-season renewal order to conclude the story of Aang’s journey to become the Avatar. 

It comes after the show premiered on Netflix on February 22 and recorded 41.1M views in its first 11 days, topping its TV list for the last two weeks and being on track to enter its top ten most-watched list over its first three months.

The plan is to film these two seasons – seasons two and three – in close succession in order to mitigate the fact that child actors tend to grow up quickly.

The series comes from Rideback, whose boss Dan Lin, an exec producer on the series, was recently named Netflix’s new film chief, replacing Scott Stuber. Albert Kim is showrunner, having replaced original creators Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko in 2020.

Its three season run will mirror the structure of the animated series, which featured three books across three seasons to Aang’s story that premiered on Nickelodeon in 2005, and became a hit on Netflix during the early stages of the pandemic.

It’s not clear how many episodes will be produced for season two and three. Season one features eight episodes.

Avatar: The Last Airbender takes place in a world that is divided into four nations: the Water Tribes, the Earth Kingdom, the Fire Nation, and the Air Nomads. “Benders” are people that have the ability to telekinetically manipulate and control the element corresponding to their nation, using gestures based on Chinese martial arts. The “Avatar” is the only individual with the ability to bend all four elements.

The four nations once lived in harmony, with the Avatar, master of all four elements, keeping peace between them. But everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked and wiped out the Air Nomads, the first step taken by the firebenders towards conquering the world. With the current incarnation of the Avatar yet to emerge, the world has lost hope. But like a light in the darkness, hope springs forth when Aang (Gordon Cormier), a young Air Nomad — and the last of his kind — reawakens to take his rightful place as the next Avatar.

Alongside his newfound friends Sokka (Ian Ousley) and Katara (Kiawentiio), siblings and members of the Southern Water Tribe, Aang embarks on a quest to save the world and fight back against the onslaught of Fire Lord Ozai (Daniel Dae Kim). But with a driven Crown Prince Zuko (Dallas Liu) determined to capture them, it won’t be an easy task. They’ll need the help of the many allies and colorful characters they meet along the way. Ken Leung and Paul Sun-Hyung Lee also star.

Kim and Lin exec produce produce alongside Jabbar Raisani, Lindsey Liberatore and Michael Goi. Goi and Raisani directed episodes in season one alongside Roseanne Liang and Jet Wilkinson.

It is Netflix’s second anime-inspired live-action hit after One Piece, following a rocky start in the genre with Cowboy Bepop. The streamer highlighted it as one of its latest successful adaptations, coming on the back of other IP-driven series such as The Sandman, Wednesday, Arcane and Sweet Tooth.

The creative team behind the series is keen to expand the story. Avatar executive producer and director Jabbar Raisani told Deadline that there’s stuff that they filmed that didn’t make it into season one.

“If we get another season, then we will certainly have those things, because I know what we missed now and I know how to do better the second time around,” he said. “The animated series is a really good guide…for where the show can go.”

[enter-drfrog]

CPDS as quotes from my theatre department’s discord pt 3

“Bad for business those bad dreams” -Max Bennett

“I came here to just mourn and cry” -Vanessa Wilcock-Wynn-Carroway

*in a southern accent* “There’s a difference between has sex and FUCKS” -Sandra Wilkinson (this just feels like her in 90 Degrees)

“Of course it’s you people with glasses on that like ranch” -Robert Grove (I feel like he would be a ranch hater)

“He looks like if he were in a 90s movie he would say ‘hey mister!’” -Annie Twilloil (about Dennis)

“Who the hell is burning their house down on a Sunday night?” -Jonathan Harris

“Sometimes I see a cute kid and I’m like oh I could take that” -Robert Grove

“It’s being pulled down by gravity…….or something else” -Trevor Watson

“He’s a sheltered little boy” -Sandra Wilkinson “Stop acting like you know everything about my life” -Chris Bean

“I’m feeling a lot of judgment for my open-toed shoes today” -Jonathan Harris

“You look like Jimmy Dean….I don’t know what Jimmy Dean looks like” -Annie Twilloil

“Brown, green, orange, yellow. I know my colors” -Trevor Watson

“Have you ever sneezed and thought: this is the day I die?” -Vanessa Wilcock-Wynn-Carroway

“There’s more ink on a crossword puzzle than a sudoku, so it tastes better” -Dennis Tyde

“I am the court of law bitch” -Robert Grove (literally just Trial to Watch)

“Is your heart muscle dying?” -Max Bennett (feels very Trial to Watch autopsy scene to me)

“I keep getting alarmed by my own shadow” -Dennis Tyde

“If you speak to me I’ll kill you” -Trevor Watson

“I can’t English the words” -Dennis Tyde

“I don’t think I would be surprised if someone stabbed me. It was probably coming for me at some point” -Robert Grove

“X is the ugliest number” -Max Bennett

“I hate you too. I’m so good at this game”-Robert Grove

“Why do you feel weird? You feel weird to my eyes. STOP” -somehow also Robert Grove

“I’m a dumbass. I’m a dumbass. I’m a dumbass. I’m a dumbass. I’m a dumbass.” - Dennis Tyde backstage every show before he goes on (I did not change a single thing about this quote attribution except for the name)

“Oh Christopher, why are you twirling?” -Sandra Wilkinson in the most utterly disappointed voice you’ve ever heard (again nothing was changed but the names)

“I’m always scared that my pants are gonna heave ho and let go” -this could apply to so many of them (Trevor, Annie, Jonathan)

“NOW LET’S GO DESTROY THE SET” -literally just the whole show

Bonus

“You fucking rat bastard, shit bag” -this is Dan from Now Museum, Now You Don’t

Part 1

Part 2

[anonymoushouseplantfan]

The mail online, whilst the online version of the daily Mail, is the biggest online newspaper in the world - in terms of daily views. It’s number one and has been since 2014/2015.

Quick google search says over 50% of its daily views come from outside the UK - noting the large audiences (and different home pages) they have in India, Australia and The USA.

So I wouldn’t say they’re targeting the British tabloids through the Mail - who themselves have become a little too reliant on social media to find stories, especially about the royals. For example, everything Kate has done in the last week, especially anything that has wound up as a gif/TikTok video has also been an article on the Mail online.

I would however say that they have a habit of “targeting” British papers depending on what they’re trying to accomplish.

For example The Sun newspaper, who up until 2018, were the most purchased daily newspaper and still sell around 1 million copies daily in the UK. Since leaving, H&M have either leaked or granted exclusive access to the sun on the following stories;

Megixt - they blame the family for the leak. Dan Wotton who broke the story claims it came from the Sussexes.

Invictus - pretty sure they allowed the sun to have photo access at the last games in the Netherlands.

Lilibets 1st birthday photos.

The Sun’s royal reporter Matt Wilkinson was getting all the Sussex info for a while; then they switched to Jack Royston at Newsweek (which tbh here in the Uk, I’m not sure how many Brits actually read Newsweek?). Jack flipped around the Netflix docuseries/book.

Since QE2’s death/funeral they’ve been buddying up with the telegraph - but more reputable here in the UK - started with the whole “Harry not allowed to wear uniform/sad that his epaulets were left off during the grandchildren vigil” and continues to this day.

So there is targeting the British press, but like everything with these two, which journalist/reporter/paper will change with whatever they’re trying to project/accomplish.

Good points. However, I don’t think they are really “targeting” the UK papers. I think the UK papers are the only ones that are willing to print their leaks for free right now. If they want US coverage, they have to pay for it and they don’t have the money right now.

That’s why their pap pics are now on TMZ. What with their lawsuits and loss of status even the Mail isn’t paying for her pics.

[scriptscribbles]

To give my general 13 Who feelings since I asked:

Ryan was my favorite Chibnall era companion though I suspect Tosin probably felt pretty burned by lack of material and hope he's on to better things that make him happier. He's quite a good actor IMO. Makes a lot of interesting choices when left to the background.

Dan and Graham were both quite charming but just not character types I need from stories right now. Dan also really suffered from not getting, like, any breathing room as a character. It ends up feeling like after Brian Williams, Chibnall needed a comfort older white dude in the TARDIS.

Yaz I like on paper but never felt like she got the focus or exploration the many interesting things about her deserved. Can You Hear Me was a very clever retcon to explain her lack of material in series 11 in addition to being poignant though it does totally change her from the character introduced in Woman Who Fell to Earth.

I like the idea of the Timeless Child and the opportunities it offers and relate a surprising amount to the whole forgotten child childhood trauma questions about identity, but think it stalled on examining that after the quite underrated Once, Upon Time.

Sacha Dhawan is a superb actor who elevated a lot but I did not care at all for the direction the Master was taken in. The lack of acknowledgment of Missy was painful, the Nazi stuff doubly so, and the redestriction of Gallifrey just annoying.

Jodie Whittaker is wonderful and very Doctory. I wish she could have played more range though and really wanted to see her play a fuller relationship plot because I love the Doctor in that kind of thing and think she'd have nailed it.

Loved the sonic. Didn't love the TARDIS. Liked series 12, apart from Spyfall part 2. Thought Resolution and Eve of the Daleks were fantastic. Complicated feelings about Flux and how it all in my view fell apart (well documented that Chibnall wrote it while it went and it shows). Thought series 11 was the right idea but didn't think it was good enough overall.

Really enjoyed writers like Vinay Patel, Ed Hime, Joy Wilkinson, Maxine Alderton, and Nina Metivier contributing, and even controversially Pete McTighe, though I wish they got a bit more polish the way RTD or Moffat added sparkle to their guest writers. It's probably not fair to expect Chris Chibnall to meet the dialogue crispness of two of the best living British TV writers who proceeded him. It's not that he's bad, but Moffat and Davies are really special talents on that front and a tough act to follow.

Thought the best director of the era was Nida Manzoor and hope they get her back. Also loved Wayne Yip again but sounds like he didn't love doing it.

Some episodes and elements I really liked but overall the era of modern Who I'm coolest on. Still would take it over several classic runs any day.

[louisupdates]

Comments on Louis’ Instagram post from Charlie Lightening, Joshua Halling, Matt Dinnadge, JD Woolsey, Bebe Rexha, Luke Asgian (from Sun Room), Dave Gibson, Lisa Wilkinson, Dan Richards, Josh Devine.

[tv-moments]

The Old Man

Season 1, “VII”

Director: Jet Wilkinson

DoP: Sean Porter

[lgg5989]

Church Encounters Chapter 20

We are back with a new chapter for you guys! I hope everyone likes it. I have conceded to put the read more link on this post bc its so long, if it doesn’t work please let me know, let’s all hope for no more appearances of rude!Anon on my blog. 

This fic is written in collaboration with my bestie @barbiewritesstuff so be sure to give her a like and a follow! I hope you enjoy the moodboard, the previous chapters can be found on my Masterlist and the whole story thus far is posted on my Ao3! 

Tag list: @roosterscock @sydneyhlove @mygyn @inky-sun​

It had been two weeks since Jake left for deployment and you were beginning to worry more and more. Your doctor had been telling you that it wasn’t good for the baby to be so stressed all the time, but it was so hard not knowing what was happening over there, if his mission was going well, if he was sleeping okay. 

To take your mind off things, Bob and Maria had offered to accompany you to mass and then breakfast afterwards. You felt Jake’s absence the most on Sundays. He wasn’t there when you woke in the morning, he didn’t have anything sweet to say about your outfit, and you missed his homemade pancakes more than you were willing to admit. 

You had gone to mass early, Maria and Bob coming with you, because every Sunday, they prayed the rosary in the morning before mass began. You wanted to pray for Jake’s safe return home. Standing with Bob and Maria in your usual pew made you feel more normal than you had for the last two weeks. During the Our Father, Maria held your hand and when giving peace both she and Bob hugged you tight. 

The new priest that had replaced Father John was a kind man. He was significantly younger, barely over 28 and his youthful energy and wonderful sense of humour had made this the best mass you had been to in a few years. The homily had been good too, Father Daniel clearly knew his audience and related that Sunday’s reading to the hardships of navy life and deployment. 

You left church feeling slightly better, your worries a little lessened after seemingly hearing exactly what you needed to feel better. It also helped that Father Daniel came by after mass to speak to you. 

“Mrs Seresin?,” he called out; running after you, dodging running children left and right to catch you before you turned around, curtseyed towards the altar and walked out of church, “Sorry to hold you up like that. I just wanted to say that I knew your husband had been deployed. I have met Jake before, he’s a lovely guy. If you need anything while he’s away, don’t hesitate to come to me,” he said, taking your hands in both of his and giving them a comforting squeeze. He gave you a reassuring smile which you tried to return.

“Thank you,” you replied, your voice small and wobbly.

“Here let me --” he started, bringing up his vestments to get something from his trousers. Once he got access to his pockets, he took out a piece of paper and a pen and scribbled his number down, “-- That’s my number. Don’t hesitate to call.” 

Giving him a tight lipped smile, you took the slip of paper and walked off to find Bob and Maria. They were deep in conversation with Mrs Wilkinson, local florist and well-known town gossip. When you arrived, their attention immediately turned to you. 

“All good to go?” Bob asked, raising one hand to wave at someone. You turned around to find Father Dan returning the gesture, shooting Bob a wink. 

“You know the new priest?” you asked.

Bob hummed, “He helped with youth group Bible study sessions back when we partnered with the Sunday school for activities in the afternoons. He was actually one of the first friends I made when I converted. Dan coached me through a lot of things, especially when I got baptised. He’s a good teacher,” he explained

“I heard my name,” Father Dan said, clapping Bob on the shoulder with enough force that the man took a step forward to avoid falling over. 

“Yeah I was explaining how we knew each other,” Bob said, giving his friend a warning look, clearly trying to stop him from saying something.

Father Dan gave him a shit-eating grin, “Yes, we’ve been friends for a while,” he said as innocently as he could manage, “Saw you praying the rosary before mass,” he noted, the corners of his mouth twitching, itching to stretch into a smile.

“Daniel, don’t,” Bob warned

“Don’t what?” Maria asked, smelling blackmail material from a mile away.

“Oh, nothing,” Father said, “You’ve put me in a nostalgic mood, I’m afraid. ‘Can’t help but think back on the last time I saw you praying the rosary…”

“Daniel, I swear I--” Bob started but Maria waved him off, she signalled for Father Daniel to continue.

“Did you know I taught Bobby how to pray the rosary?” he asked, both of you shook your heads.

“Okay, right, that’s enough!” Bob interrupted, grabbing yours and Maria’s hands and leading you out of the church to the sound of Daniel’s loud laughter reverberating through the building.

He kept a hold of your hands until you got to his car where he watched you get in, afraid you would book it back to the church to hear the rest of the story. You wouldn’t have dared but with the way Maria’s eyes darted around for escape routes, you were fairly certain she had at least considered it. She got into the passenger seat with a pout. 

Bob drove you to a small independent coffee shop in town. It was a quaint little café, sticking out like a sore thumb in the midst of San Diego, with its cute pastel wooden shutters, large flower pots hanging from the windows and adorably decorated windows. It looked more like something you would have expected to find on the fashionable end of Paris, than a side street of San Diego. 

“It’s my favourite,” Maria admitted as she pushed the door open for you to enter, “They are the only ones to do decent coffee.” 

“By decent, she means they serve way too strong coffee in cups the size of thimbles,” Bob whispered in your ear as he passed by you to scout out a table. Maria hadn’t heard his comment, too engrossed in the various pastries, sandwiches and salads on display to pay attention to her surroundings. So much so that she almost ran face first into a very disgruntled woman. 

“I don’t know what I want,” she admitted, whispering it to you like it was a state secret, “We’re thinking of getting them to do the cake for the wedding, but they do so many other nice things that I really can’t pick.”

“Oh yes! How’s wedding planning going?” you asked, eyeing a chocolate donut the size of your hand. You pointed it out to the person behind the til and ordered a decaf caramel macchiato while Maria explained her vision for the day.

“We’re thinking of a green and like champagne colour scheme? So it looks a little rustic but still classy, you know. I think most of our decor will be like fairly woodsey so it goes well with the theme. The only thing that won’t match is the cake. I’m not keen on the naked cake idea, but it’s the only thing Bob requested so it would be so mean to refuse him,” she said, “then, obviously I’ll be in white -- or champagne, I haven’t decided yet -- and I was thinkin like sage green for the bridesmaids?”

“Oh! I was going to ask if you wanted to be a bridesmaid,” she added quickly, “I’d like to have my future sister by my side.”

“Technically I’m already your sister,” you answered with a smile and a warm feeling spreading in your heart

“I don’t need to be reminded of our very complicated family tree,” she laughed, playfully rolling her eyes at you as she placed her tray onto the table Bob had chosen and gave him his matcha with almond milk, and his chocolate coated waffle before placing her own matcha and cannoli onto the table. You sank down on one of the comfortable chairs and took a sip of your drink. 

“Anyway, what do you say about being a bridesmaid?” she asked.

“I don’t know… I’m really flattered, but I’ll have the baby and I don’t know how they’ll be. I don’t want to say yes and have to bail out at the last minute,” you said, leaving out the rest of your sentence, not wanting them to know that your biggest worry at the moment was to figure out a way to bounce back from your pregnancy.

“That’s fair,” she replied with a disappointed pout on her face, a second later, she stood up again, “I need the bathroom, be right back,” Maria said, putting her drink down and speeding off towards a small corridor next to the tills.

“I think I’m going to invite my parents,” Bob blurts out as soon as Maria is out of earshot, “Maria doesn’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Oh,” you said, not really sure how to process that information. Bob looked at you expectantly though, so you forced yourself to say something, “Is Maria scared they’ll make a scene?”

“I think so,” he replied.

You thought for a moment before asking, “Do you think they would?”

“My dad would,” he said, “But I feel like I can’t not invite them, especially my mom. Technically, she never did anything to me.”

“She stayed with him while he hurt you Bobby,” you said rather sternly, “She picked him, that’s not doing nothing.”

“I guess,” he hesitated, “God gave me a lot of good things, and he gave me them… Maybe they’re not all bad?” he asked. 

You recognised those words as the ones you had thought when you were making up your own wedding guest list. That nagging feeling of guilt, growing more and more overwhelming as the list grew and you resisted putting your mother’s name at the bottom of it. 

“He didn’t give them to you, Bobby,” you said, leaning forward and placing a hand on his arm, “He gave you to them. You were the present, they must thank Him for you. Not the other way around,” you added, squeezing his arm. 

“What about Ephesians 6:1?, “Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right.” Bob countered, his eyes glued to the table. 

Without missing a beat you shook your head before quoting back to him, “Ephesians 6:4, Fathers do not provoke your children to anger by the way you treat them. Rather, bring them up with the discipline and instruction that comes from the Lord.” 

“Alright,” he said, “Fair point…So you think I shouldn’t invite them?”

“It’s not up to me,” you replied. Bob shot you a look, “Fine. I don’t know what you should do. I obviously didn’t invite my mom, but you don’t have to do the same. Just do what makes you happy.”

“That is the most diplomatic answer I have ever heard. You should be president. The Princess Diaries taught you well,” he chuckled.

“I can’t believe you still remember that,” you said, laughing at him. 

“I look like a moose,” he quoted, his hands held up behind his head to look like antlers. 

“But a very cute moose. Make all the boy moose go 'WHAAAAA’,” you finished, sending you both in a fit of laughter.

“You know,” he said after a while, “I think I’m finally happy. I’ve spent so much of my life trying to move onto the next thing or get out of situations and I don’t think I’ve ever sat down long enough to realise I’m happy. I mean can you believe I’m going to marry Maria?” he laughed, “I mean not only is she smart, funny and drop dead gorgeous, but she’s also willing to put up with me forever? Tell you what, next time someone doubts prayer works, I’m just going to slide a picture of her over to them. That should do the trick.”

He took a sip of his drink, “And I have a family. One I love and that loves me, not because I can amount to something special but just because I exist. I don’t know when I started calling the Admiral dad, but man, he’s the only one that’s ever deserved the name. And Lizzie is … Lizzie,” he summarised, “She’s a powerhouse, she’s kind, caring, welcoming, warm. I never have to doubt that she likes and wants what’s best for me, because she’ll tell me. And I have no doubt that if anyone ever says anything bad about me, she’ll simply skin them,” he laughed

“Obviously there’s Pete, Matt and the girls, who are angels and I love them all,” he kept going, looking you right in the eyes, “And there’s Annie and Audrey, who, despite having met me twice, are already treating me like I’m their annoying little brother. I love it. I love the memes, I love the voice notes they send, and I love that I get a care package in the mail from them on a weekly basis containing nothing but cookies from that bakery they like.”

“And then there’s you. I’m so happy I got to be your friend, that you let me wallflower those shitty parties with you, and that you forced me to watch The Princess Diaries, Pride and Prejudice -- 2005, obviously -- 10 Things I Hate About You or even About Time, because I swear I became a different person after that film. I’m happy that you let me force you to watch Talladega Nights, Rush or even fucking Rodeo Rythm. But tell you what, you’re a better sister than you are a friend, and the bar is already pretty high. I just --” Bob wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this. I’ve not always made the right choices, or been the right person. But fuck! I still get to marry the love of my life, I still wake up feeling loved and supported by friends and family. And I couldn’t tell you why the Lord decided to bless me like this, but I’m so happy He did. I’ve done a lot of growing up these past few years, I’ve changed so much and that is such a good thing. Everything I was, He made anew. He took me in like a lost little lamb, hurt and scared and he helped me find the people I was always meant to be with. He freed me from fear, doubt and loneliness and I am so glad that his mercy isn’t based on individual merit, because I think I’d be pretty low on the list,” Bob finished, his face showing the gratitude he felt towards the Lord for his new found lot in life. 

“Bob,” Maria said softly, appearing from behind the corner, having heard everything. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder,“Jesus bared the cross for all of us, not just the saints. His blood washed our sins away regardless of who we are and what we have done so long as our hearts are repentant. Whatever you have done, or think you have done, is not and never will be too big for God to forgive. The Lord doesn’t put you in situations He cannot forgive you for, but he does put you in situations He can help you out of. He is good, He wants what’s best for you. He loves you, so much that he brought you to us so that you could finally feel that love for yourself,” she finished, a few tears running down her own face. 

Maria pulled Bob into a hug and you felt a smile come across your face. The two of them were well suited and you knew that their marriage would be a long and happy one. Once the food had been eaten, you suggested having Bob over for the afternoon to keep you and Maria company. 

Your mistake, upon taking in the rainy day, and suggesting you play board games, had been pulling out Monopoly. It had been three hours, and you were still playing. Bob had bought Boardwalk and Park Place before proceeding to load them down with hotels. Now, it was a gamble every time you rolled the dice on that side of the board, you could pass ‘Go!’ and receive your two hundred dollars, or you could land on Boardwalk and go bankrupt. 

Maria let out a heavy sigh as she counted the money out, “six hundred, seven hundred, eight hundred, and fifty. Mr. Moneybags,” she said before leaning back on the couch with her arms crossed over her chest. 

“It’s not my fault you didn’t make a good investment at the beginning of the game,” Bob said to her, a shit eating grin on his face, “Don’t worry honey, I’ll be incharge of our retirement accounts,” he added, patting her on the thigh. 

You laughed at the pair of them when Maria’s eyes flared and Bob’s grin shrank slightly. 

“With your winnings, we won’t need retirement accounts,” she in a sassy voice, gesturing to the handful of fake money Bob still had clutched in his hand. 

“I think we are going to need more than eight hundred and fifty Monopoly dollars for retirement,” he replied, tucking his money under the corner of the board before settling back on the couch, shooting Maria a wink. 

Shaking your head, you picked up the dice and rolled, “Oh no!” you exclaimed, causing Bob and Maria to look at you with wide eyes, both of them immediately focusing on your belly. 

“Oh my goodness, I’m not due for another two months,” you said, rolling your eyes at them, “What a shame!” you continued your dramatics from before overexaggerating the disappointment in your voice, “It looks like, Bob bankrupted me!” you said, a smile now firmly fixed on your face as you scooped up all your money and handed it to him, along with your properties. 

“Hey! You can’t just quit!” Maria exclaimed, “You hadn’t even mortgaged those!” 

“The pregnant lady can do what she wants,” Bob said, looking at his fiancee with a grin and victory in his eyes. 

“How about the pregnant lady makes some dinner considering it’s now almost six?” you asked, trying to push yourself up from your place on the floor. 

Bob rose from the couch, offering you a hand and pulling you up to your feet, “Do you need any help? We can pack this up-”

You laughed, “I think if you don’t let Maria win, you might not be getting married,” you answered him, “I’m fine, I’ll just be in the kitchen anyway, I can still watch you two play.” 

“Alright,” he said.

“Let us know if you want any help?” Maria asked, since she had been living with you, she had seen first hand how quickly you could get tired in the middle of a task. 

You smiled at her, “I will,” you said before turning and walking into the kitchen. 

You turned on one of your and Jake’s favourite playlists before pulling ingredients out of the fridge. Tonight was roasted chicken breasts with baked vegetables, and rice. You preheated the oven and just as you hit the button to start it, your phone started ringing. 

Your heart started pounding in your ears when you saw the number, BLOCKED, flashing up at you from the screen. Sliding the green call button to the side, you put the phone up to your ear, “Hello?” you asked. 

“Is this a Mrs. Seresin?” a man asked, his voice gruff. 

You tried to take a deep breath, expecting it to be Jake, the unfamiliar voice startled you, “This…this is she,” you forced out. 

“Ma’am, I am sorry to inform you that your husband, Lieutenant Commander Seresin, is MIA,” he said bluntly. 

You didn’t hear the rest, because at that moment, you dropped the phone. It clattered to the floor, or so you thought because you could see it there, but the only sound in your ears was the beating of your own heart. 

“Y/n?” Maria called from the living room, “Are you okay?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but the only thing that came out was a strangled sob. Your legs started to give out, and you sank to the floor, your arms wrapped around the little life inside you. Suddenly arms wrapped around you and you could hear again.

“Who is this?” you heard Maria ask. 

Then, “I am his sister, Maria Seresin,” there was a longer pause before, “Who is your superior? Yes, your superior! How could you think it was a good idea to give a pregnant woman this kind of news over the phone?” she practically screamed. When you looked up at her, you saw tears streaming down her own face. 

“You will be hearing from the Admiral, I guarantee it,” she said before hanging up the phone and sinking down next to you and Bob. She wrapped you up from the other side and whispered into your ear, “It’s going to be fine, I promise he is going to be okay.” 

—

Jake knew a few things about the Indian ocean: it spanned over roughly 27 million miles, including the Persian Gulf and the Red Sea, it was about 12 thousand feet deep on average but with a deepest point at 24 thousand feet below water, and it made up about 20 percent of the Earth’s entire ocean volume.

What Jake hadn’t realised before crashing his plane into the middle of it, was how unbearably hot it actually was. The water temperature wasn’t too bad, having stayed at a cosy 75F since his plane went down, but the sun was unrelenting. He felt like he was on fire. 

Although, considering the crash, he probably was. Or had been. It was day two now, with no news of the search and rescue team and Jake was starting to feel desperate. Not because of any real threat of starvation or dehydration, but because his brain had remembered that the Indian Ocean counted about 19 species of sharks and he swore he could see fins out of the corner of his eyes.

His arms stung where his flesh had been singed by the burning jet fuel that had circled the plane when it hit the surface of the water, knocking him out cold for a few seconds. That had been his saving grace, really, since by the time he had miraculously managed to open the canopy underwater, he was far enough down that the fire wasn’t boiling him alive as he swam right under the puddle of kerosene to safety. 

His brain, unable to compute anything but the agonising pain of salt water on cuts, had grown quiet as he swam up, somehow finding a second to take in the scene. Away from humans, the water was clear. Fishes swam, dead leaves floated, and an occasional plastic bottle found its way to the fiery hell that had formed quite the considerable tower of smoke. Search and rescue might have found him already if he had stayed by the smoke, but Jake needed to survive and getting high off of jet fuel fumes didn’t seem like a good idea. It might have helped with the pain, though.

That had been day one, hour one. 

It probably wasn’t the right time, but in all honesty, he couldn’t remember much. Thinking was hard, and telling time when nothing changed at all was something he had never had to do before. So hour one eventually blended into hour seven and Jake’s attempt to keep track was already beginning to fail. Ever since he had hit the water he had been praying the Our Father, the Hail Mary, the Glory Be, any prayer he could think of was sent up. He prayed the Our Father when the sun rose and prayed the Hail Mary when the sun set and he just hoped that would be enough to remember what day it was. He knew one thing though, regardless of how much pain he was in, or how much blood he lost, he needed to come home to you. 

Day two had just started or was about to end, it didn’t really matter. The only thing that mattered was that Jake was on the raft, and surviving seemed just a little more plausible. He was making baby steps back to you. Soon, he might even be able to reach for his bottle of water. He’d been taking small sips every few hours, trying to ration what little water he had left, cursing the fact that he had given Tiny some of it before the flight. 

His head hurt so badly, and he couldn’t quite tell why. Was it the dehydration or the impact induced concussion? The dry mouth, lips and eyes, and mind numbing heat were telling him dehydration. The vomiting, confusion and large bleeding gash underneath his hairline was telling him concussion. Not that it mattered, since it wasn’t his only problem. Jake was fairly certain he had broken his leg, and considering his chest hurt he thought he might have broken a couple ribs too. 

The sun went down on day two and Jake fell asleep for a few hours, waking up just in time to catch the sky turning from starry night to early morning. And so day three started. 

He sipped his water and waited, feeling hot, in pain and slowly growing weaker. Ironically, as he grew weaker, his mind grew louder and soon enough, when he had no strength left to even shoo them all away, it felt like his mind was screaming. Still it grew louder and louder and louder, and then, nothing. 

The world went dark for Jake as he hunched over the raft and fell into the water. 

When he came to, he was on top of a mountain. Isaac and Abraham had just left, the leftovers of their sacrifice still on the altar, blood glistening in the sun. Jake stook a few hesitant steps forward, his leg dragging behind as he made his way to the edge of Mount Moriah. Before he could waddle his way there, a voice rang through the air.

“Jacob,” it called.

Jake looked around, trying to find who it belonged to, “Jacob,” it called again. He looked towards the sky and over the edge, but still he found no one.

It called him again, shaking the mountain and dropping him to the floor as if it was shaking the very foundations of the Earth.

“The pain you have been feeling cannot compare to the joy that is coming,” God spoke. The wind on Mount Moriah picked up, shaking leaves on trees and bushes so that they lay almost flat to the ground. 

“Jacob,” He called again, “The ladder.” 

“The what?” Jake called out but no one responded, “THE WHAT?” he repeated, his voice swallowed by a growing noise. It sounded strangely symmetrical and terribly familiar.

“THE WHAT?” he screamed, his voice rough with disuse and lack of lubrication. The wind whipped sand into his face, stinging his skin, and Jake closed his eyes.

“THE LADDER, CAN YOU GRAB IT?” someone replied, the voice of God replaced by a woman he had never heard before. Jake’s eyes flew open to reveal the Search and Rescue Helicopter. 

Jake reached for the ladder and grabbed it, trying to pull himself up on it. A flash of pain tore through his body, emanating from his chest and he was forced to let go. He fell back into the water with a gasp, his lungs filling with ocean water. A hand reached down to pull him up but the world faded back to black before he broke the surface.

----

Your group on the floor was interrupted by the phone ringing again. This time you didn’t even move to reach for it, your body numb and your mind racing with the information, Jake was missing. 

“Hello?” you heard Bob say, “Yes, we are with her,” it was quiet a moment longer before he spoke again, “I will let them both know, be safe.” 

Maria brought her tear stained face up from your shoulder, “Who was that?” 

“Your mom,” he answered quickly, “Her and your dad are on their way to the airport, they bought a ticket for the first flight out.” 

You felt like you were in a trance, “Good, good,” you said. 

“Are you okay?” Maria asked, her face full of concern. 

Before you could answer, pain ripped through your abdomen and you hunched forwards letting out a groan, “Owww.” 

“Oh my God,” Maria said, her eyes getting wide, “Is that?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head, your teeth clenched together in pain, “It can’t be, it’s too soon.” 

When the pain subsided, you looked at her, panic flooding through you, “My water didn’t break, they can’t be coming this early can they?” 

You tried to stand up, but couldn’t, your centre of gravity too far off from your normal. Bob pulled you up gently and you felt fine for a few minutes before another contraction ripped through you. 

“What do we do?” Bob asked Maria, as they both watched you sink into the couch, both hands clutching your stomach. 

“Call Cyclone,” she said, pulling his phone out and pressing it into his hand, “Lizzie might know something, and he will definitely know about Jake.” 

After only two rings, the Admiral picked up, “Hello?” you heard, Bob had put him on speaker phone. 

“Beau, we need some help,” Bob said, his voice sounding more nervous than you’d ever heard. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, seeming totally calm as another contraction started at the bottom of your belly. 

“What’s wrong?” you shouted at the phone, “Do you mean to tell me that you don’t know my husband is missing?” 

The line was silent for a minute before he answered, “I made the executive decision not to tell you that…” 

“Well that was dumb dad, because some fucking Rear Admiral called anyway and now I’m in labour, and I’m going to have this baby, and it’s too soon. How am I going to tell them about their father’s eyes or his..” you let out a grunt as the pain came to a peak, “His smile and how good of a man he was?” your question ending on a sob. 

“What do you mean you’re in labour?” he asked, his voice quiet. 

“I mean I’m in labour, how much more of an explanation do you need?” you yelled into the phone, sobs now breaking up your words. 

“Oh shit,” he said, “I’m, we’ll, we are coming, be there in five minutes,” he stumbled out before the line went dead. 

Bob and Maria were both looking at you, your breathing coming in shallow pants, “What? He may be the Admiral but he is my dad and I reserve the right to bring him down a peg.” 

Bob just nodded but Maria scooted closer to you on the couch, “Honey you need to take a deep breath.” 

As another wave of pain hit you, you thought that this is what hell looked like. It wasn’t fiery heat and torture, it was an early labour, for a baby who’s father may be dead. All you could think to do in that moment was pray, you fell to your knees from the couch, bending over as far as you could, and the first words that came out of your mouth were, “Hail Mary, full of grace…” 

By the time you had finished the prayer once over, Bob and Maria had joined in. Your breathing calmed as you prayed and you felt the little one inside you settle at the sound of your voice, and your hands pressing gently to their feet. A loud knock on the door brought Bob to his feet and before you knew it, Beau and Lizzie were in the room, Lizzie kneeling in front of you on the floor. 

“Are you alright? Labour? Did your water break?” she asked, her questions rushed and her eyes searching over you frantically. 

You shook your head, “I’m not alright. I don’t know if I’m in labour. No, it didn’t break,” you answered before leaning forward and resting your forehead on her shoulder, your shoulders shaking with silent sobs. 

The house was silent save for the sound of your stuttering breaths. Lizzie pulled you to her, rubbing your back gently as she whispered words of comfort in your ear, “It’s going to be okay, they’re going to find him, I promise. You aren’t in labour, it's the stress, take a deep breath honey. There you go, now another one. Good job. Just close your eyes, Jake is going to come back, he is a strong man and he won’t leave you and this precious baby without a fight, you know that.” 

The rest of her words were lost on you because at that moment, Beau decided to open his mouth, “I um, can we do anything?”

“You’ve done enough,” you said, your voice filled with venom, “How could you keep this from me? How long has he been missing?” 

“I didn’t want to worry you,” he said quietly, not elaborating on your other question. 

“Dad, how long has he been missing?” you demanded more than asked.

After a moment of silence he answered, “Almost two days.”

“Two days?” you questioned, “I could have been praying for him for two days? I can’t believe…I’m…Oh my God…” you broke down into another fit of tears, who could survive in the ocean for two days alone?

Your hands were pulled away from your face, strong arms wrapping themselves around you, before your forehead met soft fabric on a firm shoulder, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I should have told you, but I couldn’t…what if something happened? What if we found him and then you didn’t need this stress. You thought you were in labour five minutes ago, I just wanted to spare you the stress honey, your body can’t handle it.” 

You couldn’t find the strength to pick up your head, so into his shoulder you mumbled, “He’s my husband, the father of my child, the light of my life, I deserved to know, and I deserved to know much sooner than two days after you lost him.” 

Beau couldn’t find an answer to that, his silence speaking louder than any words he could have spoken. You allowed him to pull you closer to him and he brushed your hair away from your face, “I’m so sorry honey, they are looking. I promise you, on my orders they are looking.” 

Nodding your head, you tried to fight the tiredness that had overcome you, but against your will, your eyes drooped closed, and the world faded to black. 

When you woke up a few hours later, you found yourself in your bed, the blankets draped over you carefully and a dark figure slumped in the corner of your room. For a second, you had forgotten what happened, the phone call, the contractions, Beau’s bullheadedness, but in the five seconds you had been awake, it all came rushing back to you. 

You pushed yourself up to sitting in the bed, scooping up one of Jake’s pillows that you had stuffed into his favourite sweatshirt. Burying your nose into the fabric, you let out a quiet sob when his fading scent hit your nose, the notes of leather, whiskey, and pine were prominent and every now and then you caught a hint of vanilla. No matter how many times you had sprayed it with his cologne, it didn’t smell quite the same as he did and only this sweatshirt got close to feeling like Jake. 

You felt a hand on your shoulder and you had to choke back the instinct to scream. Pulling your head from the pillow you turned to find Isabella sitting on the edge of your bed, tears in her own eyes. 

Without saying a word, she wrapped you in her arms and the two of you cried together. There was something almost Biblical about it, the mother-in-law comforting the daughter-in-law. 

When you had run out of tears, and your breaths were coming in hiccups Isabella pulled back from you, her hands coming up to wipe your cheeks. 

“He knew this was a risk when he took this job,” she said slowly, “But I am happy that he has such a strong wife to carry on in his absence, however short or long,” she paused, seeming to think, “I hope you know that we will be here for you, whatever happens, no matter what.” 

You hugged her to you again, “Thank you,” you whispered into her hair, “You don’t know how much that means to me.” 

When you finally let go of her, she brushed away the last of your tears before standing up, “Let’s go see the others, shall we?” she asked, holding her hand out to you. 

“Okay,” you said, your voice rough from crying and disuse. You allowed her to help you out of bed and down the stairs, your belly no longer tingling with the pain of contractions. 

“There she is,” Lizzie said, her face brightening at seeing your presence in the living room. Everyone was gathered around the kitchen table, Maria had a rosary in her hands and her lips were moving quickly. Bob was seated next to her, talking quietly with Father Dan. Giovanni was seated at one head of the table and at the sight of you and Isabella emerging from the hall, he got up and came over, wrapping you in a tight hug. 

“Where’s dad?” you asked Lizzie, looking around for him, “I’m afraid I may have said some things I shouldn’t have…” 

“I think you said everything he needed to hear,” Lizzie told you, her voice firm. 

At that moment you heard a raised voice from outside, “I don’t care how long it takes or what kind of resources you are using, he is an asset of the US Navy, one that we have spent a lot of money on, and I expect you to find him, today,” Beau said, a note of finality to his voice, “And don’t think I don’t know that you went around my back Rear Admiral MacFarlane.” There was a pause before he continued, “Because the next of kin is my fucking daughter who is seven months pregnant, you think it was right to tell her that when she could have been home by herself?”. 

You watched as Beau’s face turned red and for the first time since you had known the man, he lost his temper, “I don’t care if that isn’t in the rulebook! It fucking should be, no one should receive that kind of news alone, especially if they are carrying one of our sailor’s babies. Find Seresin and do it today.” He hung up the phone and in a stunt that made you laugh, threw it across your lawn. With his back at the house, he put his hands on his hips and turned his head up to the sky, letting out what you imagined was a very deep breath.

You excused yourself from the room and made your way into the backyard, walking up behind the Admiral. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so angry,” you said, scaring him. 

He jumped, turning to you with one hand pressed over his chest, “You scared me, twice,” he said, walking towards you quickly and pulling you into a hug. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-” you started but he cut you off. 

“No, I’m sorry. I should have told you about Jake, I just wanted to protect you,” he said, “But you are a grown woman and you did have the right to know, and I’m sorry you didn’t hear it from me.” 

You wrapped your arms around his waist as best you could, your belly getting in the way, “It’s okay dad, just help me get him home?” 

“Of course, we are going to find him,” Beau said, rubbing your back. 

You stood there for a few minutes before asking the question that had been plaguing your mind since you got the news that Jake was MIA, “What happened?”

You felt him sigh before answering, “Their mission was going well until Prince hung Jake out to dry, saving his own ass. Jake’s plane went into the Indian Ocean almost fifty hours ago,” he paused and you knew the next bit of information was going to be what worried you the most, “They had no report of a chute, but his life raft deployed because there was green dye in the water at his last reported location.” 

“Why haven’t they found him yet?” you asked. 

“His transponder isn’t working and the boat took almost an hour to get to the plane’s location. Those two things combined mean he’s drifting somewhere out at sea,” Beau finished. 

You nodded, burying your head into his chest again, “Thank you, for working so hard to find him.” 

“I would do it for any of them, but especially him,” he said, letting out a breath. 

You stepped back from him and he took your hand in his, wrapping it around his arm as he escorted you into the yard to pick up his phone. The two of you walked in silence, him crouching to get the phone and then steering you both back towards the house. It was getting into late October, and the weather was cooling down quite a bit. You weren’t sure of the time, but the chill in the air made you think it was early morning. 

When you reentered the house, you found everyone watching you expectantly. 

“Yes?” you asked the room, looking around to see who would break first. 

“We have an idea,” Bob started, “We want to recruit the church, well some of the church to start a prayer vigil for Jake, until he is brought home.” 

Father Dan nodded, “We would send an email to the parish and then people can sign up to pray between certain hours so that there is someone always in God’s ear for his safe return.” 

“I think that sounds great, in fact, I’ll take the first two hours,” you said as you made your way to the bookcase you had decorated to be your little ‘shrine’ to catholicism. On top of the table was your rosary, Jake’s was probably in his bag on the carrier and the thought made your heart clench. Pouring it out of the bag and into your hand, you made your way back into the living room and took a seat on the couch, beginning the first of many times around the rosary. 

While Isabella and Lizzie were fixing breakfast, everyone in the house found some way to occupy themselves. Maria was cleaning, Bob was pacing the floor speaking quietly with Father Dan as emails from parationers rolled in saying they would help, and Giovanni was talking with Beau at the table, the two of them bent over a map of the Indian Ocean. 

When your two hours of prayer were up, you almost didn’t want to stop. The repetition of the words was calming and focusing on finding Jake was keeping the rest of your worries about the circumstances of his accident at bay. 

The day passed slowly, most of your time spent clutching a cold cup of chamomile tea to your chest while you sat in Jake’s recliner in the living room. Every now and then you would feel your little one move, like they were reminding you that you weren’t alone even in a room full of people. 

As you started to nod off in the evening, a blanket spread over you, the chair reclined back, and Jeopardy playing lowly on the TV, Beau’s phone rang. He looked up at the room before picking it up, walking into your garage. 

Immediately you were awake, getting up from the chair and standing in the living room. When he came back in, the look on his face made your heart race, he was happy. 

“They found him,” he said, “He’s on a chopper now headed back to the boat.” 

The relief that flooded through your system made your legs weak and you sat heavily back into the chair. You crossed yourself and thanked God, for bringing him back to you. 

Beau’s face turned slightly less happy and you seemed to be the only one who noticed it, “What’s wrong?” you asked, your voice wary. 

“They said he’s pretty severely injured,” he said quietly, “They expect several ribs to be broken, and he has a broken leg. In addition to that he is suffering from a concussion, severe dehydration, and sun poisoning. Once they get him to the carrier they are going to update me again on his condition before they load him on a plane back to North Island.”

The relief that you had been feeling was swept away from you in an instant, it was replaced with an intense worry and fear. Was Jake going to be the same when he came back? How bad are his injuries? At that moment, your baby kicked hard. You rubbed over its little foot, “It’ll be okay, daddy’s going to be alright,” you whispered to your bump. 

Isabella voiced another question that you hadn’t the mind to think of yet, “When will we be able to see him?” 

Beau paused for a moment before answering, “By my maths, I believe he will arrive back tomorrow. Depending on his injuries they may not allow visitors or they may want to perform surgery if something is bad enough so I can’t promise a time, but tomorrow he will be here.” 

Everyone nodded along with his words, Father Dan asked, “Should I keep the prayer vigil up then? Just until he is home and through any surgeries?” 

“I would appreciate that,” you said, a sad smile coming over your face. 

Now that Jake was coming home, the relief felt through the house was refreshing, but you had your own worries about his injuries. That night, before you went to bed, you kneeled down next to it and thanked God for returning Jake to you. You prayed that he would recover quickly and you tried to keep the thoughts of what Beau had said about his injuries from your mind. 

As you climbed into bed and turned out the lights, you mentally prepared yourself for seeing him the next day. By the time you fell asleep, you were hoping for the best, but prepared for the worst. 

----

“ -- broken ribs, broken leg --” someone said, their voice sounding so far away, as if Jake was listening to someone speak through a thick brick wall, “ -- concussion and severe dehydration. His chances of survival are good, but recovery will be slow,” they said, becoming slightly clearer, “Physical therapy, and likely a skin graft surgery for the burn on his back.”

Jake coughed and silence fell over the room. He opened his eyes, eager to see you again, but the only people in the room were a greying doctor and a group of medical students, standing alert in their scrubs with a stethoscope hanging around their neck. They made him feel like a zoo exhibit.

“Mr Seresin, you’re awake,” the doctor said, moving towards him to check him over, “How do you feel?”

“Like someone tap danced on my chest,” he joked, his voice sounding strange as it passed through his bone dry throat. Speaking sent him into a coughing fit, the pain in his chest making him see stars with every movement. He gritted his teeth together and stayed perfectly still for a few seconds, hoping the pain would pass but it didn't diminish much. 

The doctor looked at him, then pressed a button and a nurse appeared. They exchanged words and she left again, only to come back a minute later with a syringe. Jake felt his heart drop in his chest and he tried to fight back, two of the medical students held him back against the bed and she sank the needle into his arm. A minute later, his eyes fluttered closed again, not before seeing your scared face in the doorway. 

“ -- Therefore you have no excuse, O man, every one of you who judges. For in passing judgement on another you condemn yourself, because you, the judge, practise the very same things --” a familiar voice read. 

 Jake’s eyes fluttered open, revealing Daniel lounging in one of the uncomfortable chairs by his bedside. He was wearing his regular clothes, a pair of black jeans and a white tee hidden underneath a half zipped up hoodie. The steady beeping of a machine to Jake’s right sped up as he looked around, desperately trying to find you. 

 The pillows piled high underneath his neck were making it hard to look around and moving his body was impossible but still he tried, straining as much as possible to look over any obstruction. He groaned and Father Daniel stopped mid-sentence. He closed his bible.

 “Jake, it’s alright,” he reassured him, moving to sit on the edge of his bed, “She went home to shower, she’s okay. She’ll be back. We’re watching over you in the meantime, you can go back to sleep,” Daniel said and Jake didn’t struggle, falling back into sleep’s open arms as soon as the words had come out of Father’s mouth. 

 When he woke up again, Father was still there, speaking into the empty room as if it were a packed church, pacing around the room and rehearsing that week's homily, “Judgement is very prominent in today’s society. We like to judge people for who they are --” he started and stopped, fishing a piece of paper out of his back pocket and checking his script, “We like to judge people for what they wear, what they own, what they do. We judge people for how much money they have, what they do with it, what their jobs are. I will admit that I have been guilty of that sin. I have looked at celebrities and criticised their appearance, I have scoffed at teens when they tell me they want to be influencers, I have caught myself thinking that some of the citizens of this fine country must have gotten their driver’s licence in cereal box tops,” Dan paused, checking his piece of paper, “All of these, regardless of how mean or menial they are, are bad. All judgement is bad. But the worst one in my opinion is one I encounter daily, be it through seeing memes on facebook, or hearing it from the mouths of my parishioners, it is the judgement we cast over others for their belief or disbelief of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.”

 “When we look upon others and judge them for the way they do or do not worship. When we look at their faith and tell them they are doing things wrong, when we look at their relationship with the Lord and think that they could do things better, we must remember that the standards we apply to them, the Lord will apply to us --” he continued.

 “Most people do get their licences from cereal box tops,” Jake said, his voice raspy and hard to understand. Father Dan turned to him.

 “Seresin, I have experienced your driving. That line was specifically directed at you I’ll have you know,” he joked.

 “How dare you, I will have you know my instructor said I was a delight,” Jake replied, pulling himself into a somewhat upright position.

 “Sure he did, you’re built like a mountain and you have the worst road rage I have ever seen,” Dan laughed.

 “Bob,” Jake replied, Daniel paused, giving his retort some thought.

 “Second worst road rage I have ever seen,” he acquiesced, “How are you feeling?”

 “You know, I have never been so aware that I had ribs in my life,” Jake joked, wincing only a second later.

 “No kiddin’... You want me to call a nurse or something? See if they can get you a pain killer?” Dan offered.

 “No, but I want my wife,” Jake replied.

 “I called her twenty minutes ago when you came to. She’s on her way. Bob’s driving though, so you can expect her to get here in a year or two,” he laughed, “We were taking shifts at your bedside so you wouldn’t have to wake up alone.”

 “I can’t thank you all enough,” Jake said, accidentally shifting his weight on the pillows, “Shit, that hurts,” he winced.

“You’re going to need to watch your mouth when your kid gets here,” the priest chastised him. 

“I got two months to kick the habit,” he replied, “How is she? Everything okay with her and the baby?”

“Everything is fine,” Dan said, “You sure you’re okay, bud?”

“I thought I was going to die,” he said, “I think God spoke to me.”

Father Dan smiled, “What was it like?”

Jake closed his eyes and tried to remember. As if projecting a film on the back of his brain the memory came back scene by scene. He felt the gravel of Mount Moriah underneath his boots, the stones sliding and rolling away as limped his way up the path. The sun was beating down on him as he walked but it didn’t hurt, it felt gentle and warming, almost like the setting Texas sun of his boyhood. 

Jake remembered the vague understanding that he had crossed Abraham and Isaac on the path at some point, but the altar confirmed it. The stones were red with blood, seeping through the cracks and dripping onto the ground. Jake, before he could stop and think, reached for it, using it to pull himself forward. He leaned against the altar, turning his hand around expecting to see it slick with the ram’s blood but it was clean. His name was called, shaking him out of his reverie. The voice resonated through the air, cutting through everything as though the volume had been turned down on the environmental noise. Jake turned around, trying to catch a glimpse of who the voice belonged to.

There really hadn’t been a doubt in his mind about who the voice had belonged to. He felt the words in his bones, flowing through his blood, his body reacted to it like he had never been made to do anything else. He still limped his way to the edge of the mountain and looked down, seeing nothing but grass, birds and people. He raised his head to the sky, but the clouds gave nothing away. 

The Lord called to him once more, sending a jolt through the earth that threw him against the ground. Jake braced himself for a wave of pain, but nothing came. 

“The pain you have been feeling cannot compare to the joy that is coming,” God said, and Jake knew it was true. As true as the fact that you loved him, that he was alive, that your baby would be born, that his name was Jacob Thomas Seresin and that God was Good and speaking to Him. 

The wind picked up. The breeze that had been making the air up on Mount Moriah pleasant and fresh grew stronger and stronger until it lifted earth and sand and spun it upwards into the sky. It blew until trees bent and leaves flattened. There were no more birds, no more insects, and soon the dust made it so that there was no more Mount Moriah.

“Jacob,” He called again, his voice swallowed by the wind, “The ladder.” 

Jake opened his eyes again and blinked rapidly at the cool white light emanating from the large overhead lamps.

“It was…Everything,”he said, his voice a whisper in the room. 

“What did he sound like?” Father Dan probed further, looking at him like his nephews did whenever they asked him to describe what flying was like, full of wonder and amazement.

Jake thought for a moment, “Hard to describe, really. Loud, I guess. Unmistakable? But gentle and reassuring at the same time. And just… I don’t know, inevitable. Like whatever he was telling me was certain, it would happen and I have no choice in the matter.”

Dan took a breath before speaking again, “Can I ask, you don’t have to answer obviously, but what did He say?”

“He said I’d be okay,” Jake replied, feeling strange about revealing His words. They had been spoken to him, and selfishly, he wanted to keep them for himself.

Father Dan smiled brightly, sitting up on his chair. He looked at Jake and let out a breathy laugh.

“Has it happened to you before?” Jake asked but Dan never had time to answer as just as he was about to, the door opened to reveal you. It felt like the world stood still, like the clouds parted to reveal the sunshine after weeks of torrential rain. It felt like taking a breath after diving underwater for too long.

“Hey,” he breathed.

“Hey,” you replied in the same tone of voice.

“We’ll leave you two alone,” Dan said, pushing Bob back out of the room before Jake could see more than the back of his hand pushing the door open further. 

“I thought you had died,” you said, tears welling up in your eyes as you made your way towards him. 

“Never,” he smiled brightly, “You’re stuck with me forever!” 

Jake stuck out his arms to ask for a hug, you sat on the edge of the bed so as not to hurt him but he pulled you into him, ignoring the agonising pain he felt when you leaned into his chest to squeeze you close, “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” you replied.

----

Almost ten days after Jake’s skin graft surgery, the doctors cleared him to go home. To help while he recovered, Isabella and Giovanni had decided to stay, stealing the guest room from Maria and banishing her to the sofa. She grumbled and groaned for a few days but whatever Jake had asked her to do in the nursery was taking up half of her day, the other half being almost solely dedicated to placing the finishing touches on the house, to get it ready for the wedding. 

You hadn’t been in weeks now, but she had been all too happy to show you pictures. They had done some wonderful work. All bathrooms had been retiled, with new showers, baths and sinks installed. The bedrooms had been painted and carpet ripped out, and the kitchen had been gutted and changed from outdated to modern. In the livingroom and dining room, Bob had installed beautiful hardwood flooring. The garage, which could have housed two cars had been divided, one half turned into  Bob’s very own workshop. All that was left was to finish the attic, which they would turn into Maria’s art studio, and buy the furniture, which she was more than thrilled about. 

“I’m thinking maybe like, lots of white and light colours, so it feels very lit up. We have those beautifully large windows that show the yard, so I feel like we need to take advantage of that. But obviously I don’t want it to be too monotone? So I feel like we need a few pops of colour, you know?” She asked, leaning her head against the back of the sofa, “Did you guys have this much trouble decorating this place?”

“I’ll be honest, we had most of the furniture already and Jake painted everything in about a week. We got lucky, the house was in really good condition and the colours were pretty much what we wanted already,” you explained, rubbing your belly. Beanie had been making their presence known since Jake got home, sending their little foot into your tummy every few minutes. Recently though, their aim had gotten worse, and every other kick landed straight into your ribs. The only thing that seemed to improve it, was an extra large tub of Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia ice cream and some belly rubs from Jake. Conscious not to let you eat too many calories, Maria had graciously offered to help you finish off your tub, and was now digging a spoonful out of her own bowl.

“So lucky,” she said, licking the back of her spoon, “I am so sore,” she stated, “I need a bath.” Maria stood up from her seat and left in the direction of the bathroom, passing her mother in the kitchen and her father reading the newspaper by the dining room table. It had been a quiet day, with everyone at home as rain poured down from the sky in thick droplets that left everything muddy. 

Jake entered the room. The doctors had asked him to keep moving to a minimum and to sleep on his front, two instructions he ignored almost immediately but it didn’t seem to hinder his recovery all that much.His crutches ticked against the floor as he approached you. You lifted your spoonful of ice cream up to your lips but your tongue never tasted the sweet treat, as just as you were about to, Jake swiped the spoon out of your hands and ate it himself.

“Hey!” you protested but Jake crutched away as quickly as he could, the spoon still in his mouth. He made his way through the living room and then the kitchen, scaring his mother in the process.You followed right behind.

“Non correre con un cucchiaio!” she shouted after him. Don’t run with a spoon!  

Jake laughed, “Non sto correndo!” he mumbled, I’m not running! Isabella rolled her eyes. 

You followed him to the nursery where you finally got your spoon back, but before you could turn around and walk away, Jake pushed the door open to reveal what was inside. You gasped. It was beautiful, Maria had truly outdone herself. 

The whole room was painted a crisp white. Even though the day outside was rainy, the brightness of the walls made the one window in the room shine with light. On the wall with the crib, there was a delicately painted mural. The wall itself had been painted a sky blue and a few puffy white clouds had been added to the atmosphere. A squadron of F18s was pictured flying across the top corner of the room, a two seater front and centre featured Dove and Hangman name inscriptions below the pilot and WSO seats. There was a smaller plane centred over the crib, its name place missing an inscription. The painting was realistic but also slightly animated, making it feel fit for a child’s room.

Turning your head, you spotted a changing table, painted a light grey to match the F18s, its knobs little bronze stars. Over it hung a canvas, on it in calligraphy was James 1:17, every good and perfect gift is from above. 

There was a grey rug in the middle of the room and in one corner was tucked a white padded rocking chair. Over the back Maria had thrown the blankets that Nonna had made them. Once you had finished your quick scan of the beautiful room, you walked over to the mural wall, stopping next to the crib, you brushed your hand over the little F18 on the wall, “What…Did…is this what Maria…” you couldn’t find the words. 

Jake came up behind you, he leaned his crutches on the crib before wrapping his arms around you, “Do you like it?” 

“I love it,” you said with a smile as Jake pressed a kiss to the top of your head. The two of you stood in a comfortable silence, Jake’s arms wrapped around your midsection, you making sure not to lean too far into him as he was standing on one leg. 

Your bubble of peace was interrupted when Maria walked by in the hall, “Oh, so you showed her without me?” 

Jake let out a quiet laugh, “I wanted it to be a private moment, I didn’t know how she was going to react!” 

Maria just rolled her eyes, “I figure we can fill in the name spot when the little one gets here,” she said with a smile aimed at you. 

“It’s lovely, thank you so much,” you said, “I don’t even know what to say to be honest.” 

“I will take your speechlessness as payment enough,” Maria said with an excited smile before walking down the hall towards the stairs. 

As Maria left, you felt a little kick from your stomach. You guided Jake’s hand over it and smiled as he rubbed a finger over their little foot. Standing in the nursery, with your newly returned husband, you found yourself disappointed that the baby wasn’t there yet. 

Turning back into Jake, he hugged you as a few tears slipped from your eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, brushing your hair away from your face. 

You let out a sigh before answering, “I just wish he or she was here already, I want to hold them and show them this beautiful room.” 

“They will make their appearance when they are ready Princess, we just need to be patient,” Jake said, kissing your forehead. 

You let out a laugh, “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more.” 

[barbiewritesstuff]

Church Encounters: Chapter 20

-- Enjoy this monster of a fic!!

Tw. This is angsty!! Mention of injuries, plane crashes etc.!!

this fic is written is collaboration with @lgg5989 who is posting this on her tumblr and her AO3! She also made the lovely moodboard below!!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! We also accept in-universe requests!!

Previous Part

Taglist: @acarboni21 @unsurebuttrying @dempy @peaches-1998 @bbooks-and-teas @roosterscock @positivelyholland --

It had been two weeks since Jake left for deployment and you were beginning to worry more and more. Your doctor had been telling you that it wasn’t good for the baby to be so stressed all the time, but it was so hard not knowing what was happening over there, if his mission was going well, if he was sleeping okay. 

To take your mind off things, Bob and Maria had offered to accompany you to mass and then breakfast afterwards. You felt Jake’s absence the most on Sundays. He wasn’t there when you woke in the morning, he didn’t have anything sweet to say about your outfit, and you missed his homemade pancakes more than you were willing to admit. 

You had gone to mass early, Maria and Bob coming with you, because every Sunday, they prayed the rosary in the morning before mass began. You wanted to pray for Jake’s safe return home. Standing with Bob and Maria in your usual pew made you feel more normal than you had for the last two weeks. During the Our Father, Maria held your hand and when giving peace both she and Bob hugged you tight. 

The new priest that had replaced Father John was a kind man. He was significantly younger, barely over 28 and his youthful energy and wonderful sense of humour had made this the best mass you had been to in a few years. The homily had been good too, Father Daniel clearly knew his audience and related that Sunday’s reading to the hardships of navy life and deployment. 

You left church feeling slightly better, your worries a little lessened after seemingly hearing exactly what you needed to feel better. It also helped that Father Daniel came by after mass to speak to you. 

“Mrs Seresin?,” he called out; running after you, dodging running children left and right to catch you before you turned around, curtseyed towards the altar and walked out of church, “Sorry to hold you up like that. I just wanted to say that I knew your husband had been deployed. I have met Jake before, he’s a lovely guy. If you need anything while he’s away, don’t hesitate to come to me,” he said, taking your hands in both of his and giving them a comforting squeeze. He gave you a reassuring smile which you tried to return.

“Thank you,” you replied, your voice small and wobbly.

“Here let me --” he started, bringing up his vestments to get something from his trousers. Once he got access to his pockets, he took out a piece of paper and a pen and scribbled his number down, “-- That’s my number. Don’t hesitate to call.” 

Giving him a tight lipped smile, you took the slip of paper and walked off to find Bob and Maria. They were deep in conversation with Mrs Wilkinson, local florist and well-known town gossip. When you arrived, their attention immediately turned to you. 

“All good to go?” Bob asked, raising one hand to wave at someone. You turned around to find Father Dan returning the gesture, shooting Bob a wink. 

“You know the new priest?” you asked.

Bob hummed, “He helped with youth group Bible study sessions back when we partnered with the Sunday school for activities in the afternoons. He was actually one of the first friends I made when I converted. Dan coached me through a lot of things, especially when I got baptised. He’s a good teacher,” he explained

“I heard my name,” Father Dan said, clapping Bob on the shoulder with enough force that the man took a step forward to avoid falling over. 

“Yeah I was explaining how we knew each other,” Bob said, giving his friend a warning look, clearly trying to stop him from saying something.

Father Dan gave him a shit-eating grin, “Yes, we’ve been friends for a while,” he said as innocently as he could manage, “Saw you praying the rosary before mass,” he noted, the corners of his mouth twitching, itching to stretch into a smile.

“Daniel, don’t,” Bob warned

“Don’t what?” Maria asked, smelling blackmail material from a mile away.

“Oh, nothing,” Father said, “You’ve put me in a nostalgic mood, I’m afraid. ‘Can’t help but think back on the last time I saw you praying the rosary…”

“Daniel, I swear I--” Bob started but Maria waved him off, she signalled for Father Daniel to continue.

“Did you know I taught Bobby how to pray the rosary?” he asked, both of you shook your heads.

“Okay, right, that’s enough!” Bob interrupted, grabbing yours and Maria’s hands and leading you out of the church to the sound of Daniel’s loud laughter reverberating through the building.

He kept a hold of your hands until you got to his car where he watched you get in, afraid you would book it back to the church to hear the rest of the story. You wouldn’t have dared but with the way Maria’s eyes darted around for escape routes, you were fairly certain she had at least considered it. She got into the passenger seat with a pout. 

:readmore:

Bob drove you to a small independent coffee shop in town. It was a quaint little café, sticking out like a sore thumb in the midst of San Diego, with its cute pastel wooden shutters, large flower pots hanging from the windows and adorably decorated windows. It looked more like something you would have expected to find on the fashionable end of Paris, than a side street of San Diego. 

“It’s my favourite,” Maria admitted as she pushed the door open for you to enter, “They are the only ones to do decent coffee.” 

“By decent, she means they serve way too strong coffee in cups the size of thimbles,” Bob whispered in your ear as he passed by you to scout out a table. Maria hadn’t heard his comment, too engrossed in the various pastries, sandwiches and salads on display to pay attention to her surroundings. So much so that she almost ran face first into a very disgruntled woman. 

“I don’t know what I want,” she admitted, whispering it to you like it was a state secret, “We’re thinking of getting them to do the cake for the wedding, but they do so many other nice things that I really can’t pick.”

“Oh yes! How’s wedding planning going?” you asked, eyeing a chocolate donut the size of your hand. You pointed it out to the person behind the til and ordered a decaf caramel macchiato while Maria explained her vision for the day.

“We’re thinking of a green and like champagne colour scheme? So it looks a little rustic but still classy, you know. I think most of our decor will be like fairly woodsey so it goes well with the theme. The only thing that won’t match is the cake. I’m not keen on the naked cake idea, but it’s the only thing Bob requested so it would be so mean to refuse him,” she said, “then, obviously I’ll be in white -- or champagne, I haven’t decided yet -- and I was thinkin like sage green for the bridesmaids?”

“Oh! I was going to ask if you wanted to be a bridesmaid,” she added quickly, “I’d like to have my future sister by my side.”

“Technically I’m already your sister,” you answered with a smile and a warm feeling spreading in your heart

“I don’t need to be reminded of our very complicated family tree,” she laughed, playfully rolling her eyes at you as she placed her tray onto the table Bob had chosen and gave him his matcha with almond milk, and his chocolate coated waffle before placing her own matcha and cannoli onto the table. You sank down on one of the comfortable chairs and took a sip of your drink. 

“Anyway, what do you say about being a bridesmaid?” she asked.

“I don’t know… I’m really flattered, but I’ll have the baby and I don’t know how they’ll be. I don’t want to say yes and have to bail out at the last minute,” you said, leaving out the rest of your sentence, not wanting them to know that your biggest worry at the moment was to figure out a way to bounce back from your pregnancy.

“That’s fair,” she replied with a disappointed pout on her face, a second later, she stood up again, “I need the bathroom, be right back,” Maria said, putting her drink down and speeding off towards a small corridor next to the tills.

“I think I’m going to invite my parents,” Bob blurts out as soon as Maria is out of earshot, “Maria doesn’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Oh,” you said, not really sure how to process that information. Bob looked at you expectantly though, so you forced yourself to say something, “Is Maria scared they’ll make a scene?”

“I think so,” he replied.

You thought for a moment before asking, “Do you think they would?”

“My dad would,” he said, “But I feel like I can’t not invite them, especially my mom. Technically, she never did anything to me.”

“She stayed with him while he hurt you Bobby,” you said rather sternly, “She picked him, that’s not doing nothing.”

“I guess,” he hesitated, “God gave me a lot of good things, and he gave me them… Maybe they’re not all bad?” he asked. 

You recognised those words as the ones you had thought when you were making up your own wedding guest list. That nagging feeling of guilt, growing more and more overwhelming as the list grew and you resisted putting your mother’s name at the bottom of it. 

“He didn’t give them to you, Bobby,” you said, leaning forward and placing a hand on his arm, “He gave you to them. You were the present, they must thank Him for you. Not the other way around,” you added, squeezing his arm. 

“What about Ephesians 6:1?, “Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right.” Bob countered, his eyes glued to the table. 

Without missing a beat you shook your head before quoting back to him, “Ephesians 6:4, Fathers do not provoke your children to anger by the way you treat them. Rather, bring them up with the discipline and instruction that comes from the Lord.” 

“Alright,” he said, “Fair point…So you think I shouldn’t invite them?”

“It’s not up to me,” you replied. Bob shot you a look, “Fine. I don’t know what you should do. I obviously didn’t invite my mom, but you don’t have to do the same. Just do what makes you happy.”

“That is the most diplomatic answer I have ever heard. You should be president. The Princess Diaries taught you well,” he chuckled.

“I can’t believe you still remember that,” you said, laughing at him. 

“I look like a moose,” he quoted, his hands held up behind his head to look like antlers. 

“But a very cute moose. Make all the boy moose go 'WHAAAAA’,” you finished, sending you both in a fit of laughter.

“You know,” he said after a while, “I think I’m finally happy. I’ve spent so much of my life trying to move onto the next thing or get out of situations and I don’t think I’ve ever sat down long enough to realise I’m happy. I mean can you believe I’m going to marry Maria?” he laughed, “I mean not only is she smart, funny and drop dead gorgeous, but she’s also willing to put up with me forever? Tell you what, next time someone doubts prayer works, I’m just going to slide a picture of her over to them. That should do the trick.”

He took a sip of his drink, “And I have a family. One I love and that loves me, not because I can amount to something special but just because I exist. I don’t know when I started calling the Admiral dad, but man, he’s the only one that’s ever deserved the name. And Lizzie is … Lizzie,” he summarised, “She’s a powerhouse, she’s kind, caring, welcoming, warm. I never have to doubt that she likes and wants what’s best for me, because she’ll tell me. And I have no doubt that if anyone ever says anything bad about me, she’ll simply skin them,” he laughed

“Obviously there’s Pete, Matt and the girls, who are angels and I love them all,” he kept going, looking you right in the eyes, “And there’s Annie and Audrey, who, despite having met me twice, are already treating me like I’m their annoying little brother. I love it. I love the memes, I love the voice notes they send, and I love that I get a care package in the mail from them on a weekly basis containing nothing but cookies from that bakery they like.”

“And then there’s you. I’m so happy I got to be your friend, that you let me wallflower those shitty parties with you, and that you forced me to watch The Princess Diaries, Pride and Prejudice -- 2005, obviously -- 10 Things I Hate About You or even About Time, because I swear I became a different person after that film. I’m happy that you let me force you to watch Talladega Nights, Rush or even fucking Rodeo Rythm. But tell you what, you’re a better sister than you are a friend, and the bar is already pretty high. I just --” Bob wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this. I’ve not always made the right choices, or been the right person. But fuck! I still get to marry the love of my life, I still wake up feeling loved and supported by friends and family. And I couldn’t tell you why the Lord decided to bless me like this, but I’m so happy He did. I’ve done a lot of growing up these past few years, I’ve changed so much and that is such a good thing. Everything I was, He made anew. He took me in like a lost little lamb, hurt and scared and he helped me find the people I was always meant to be with. He freed me from fear, doubt and loneliness and I am so glad that his mercy isn’t based on individual merit, because I think I’d be pretty low on the list,” Bob finished, his face showing the gratitude he felt towards the Lord for his new found lot in life. 

“Bob,” Maria said softly, appearing from behind the corner, having heard everything. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, “Jesus bared the cross for all of us, not just the saints. His blood washed our sins away regardless of who we are and what we have done so long as our hearts are repentant. Whatever you have done, or think you have done, is not and never will be too big for God to forgive. The Lord doesn’t put you in situations He cannot forgive you for, but he does put you in situations He can help you out of. He is good, He wants what’s best for you. He loves you, so much that he brought you to us so that you could finally feel that love for yourself,” she finished, a few tears running down her own face. 

Maria pulled Bob into a hug and you felt a smile come across your face. The two of them were well suited and you knew that their marriage would be a long and happy one. Once the food had been eaten, you suggested having Bob over for the afternoon to keep you and Maria company. 

Your mistake, upon taking in the rainy day, and suggesting you play board games, had been pulling out Monopoly. It had been three hours, and you were still playing. Bob had bought Boardwalk and Park Place before proceeding to load them down with hotels. Now, it was a gamble every time you rolled the dice on that side of the board, you could pass ‘Go!’ and receive your two hundred dollars, or you could land on Boardwalk and go bankrupt. 

Maria let out a heavy sigh as she counted the money out, “six hundred, seven hundred, eight hundred, and fifty. Mr. Moneybags,” she said before leaning back on the couch with her arms crossed over her chest. 

“It’s not my fault you didn’t make a good investment at the beginning of the game,” Bob said to her, a shit eating grin on his face, “Don’t worry honey, I’ll be incharge of our retirement accounts,” he added, patting her on the thigh. 

You laughed at the pair of them when Maria’s eyes flared and Bob’s grin shrank slightly. 

“With your winnings, we won’t need retirement accounts,” she in a sassy voice, gesturing to the handful of fake money Bob still had clutched in his hand. 

“I think we are going to need more than eight hundred and fifty Monopoly dollars for retirement,” he replied, tucking his money under the corner of the board before settling back on the couch, shooting Maria a wink. 

Shaking your head, you picked up the dice and rolled, “Oh no!” you exclaimed, causing Bob and Maria to look at you with wide eyes, both of them immediately focusing on your belly. 

“Oh my goodness, I’m not due for another two months,” you said, rolling your eyes at them, “What a shame!” you continued your dramatics from before overexaggerating the disappointment in your voice, “It looks like, Bob bankrupted me!” you said, a smile now firmly fixed on your face as you scooped up all your money and handed it to him, along with your properties. 

“Hey! You can’t just quit!” Maria exclaimed, “You hadn’t even mortgaged those!” 

“The pregnant lady can do what she wants,” Bob said, looking at his fiancee with a grin and victory in his eyes. 

“How about the pregnant lady makes some dinner considering it’s now almost six?” you asked, trying to push yourself up from your place on the floor. 

Bob rose from the couch, offering you a hand and pulling you up to your feet, “Do you need any help? We can pack this up-”

You laughed, “I think if you don’t let Maria win, you might not be getting married,” you answered him, “I’m fine, I’ll just be in the kitchen anyway, I can still watch you two play.” 

“Alright,” he said.

“Let us know if you want any help?” Maria asked, since she had been living with you, she had seen first hand how quickly you could get tired in the middle of a task. 

You smiled at her, “I will,” you said before turning and walking into the kitchen. 

You turned on one of your and Jake’s favourite playlists before pulling ingredients out of the fridge. Tonight was roasted chicken breasts with baked vegetables, and rice. You preheated the oven and just as you hit the button to start it, your phone started ringing. 

Your heart started pounding in your ears when you saw the number, BLOCKED, flashing up at you from the screen. Sliding the green call button to the side, you put the phone up to your ear, “Hello?” you asked. 

“Is this a Mrs. Seresin?” a man asked, his voice gruff. 

You tried to take a deep breath, expecting it to be Jake, the unfamiliar voice startled you, “This…this is she,” you forced out. 

“Ma’am, I am sorry to inform you that your husband, Lieutenant Commander Seresin, is MIA,” he said bluntly. 

You didn’t hear the rest, because at that moment, you dropped the phone. It clattered to the floor, or so you thought because you could see it there, but the only sound in your ears was the beating of your own heart. 

“Y/n?” Maria called from the living room, “Are you okay?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but the only thing that came out was a strangled sob. Your legs started to give out, and you sank to the floor, your arms wrapped around the little life inside you. Suddenly arms wrapped around you and you could hear again.

“Who is this?” you heard Maria ask. 

Then, “I am his sister, Maria Seresin,” there was a longer pause before, “Who is your superior? Yes, your superior! How could you think it was a good idea to give a pregnant woman this kind of news over the phone?” she practically screamed. When you looked up at her, you saw tears streaming down her own face. 

“You will be hearing from the Admiral, I guarantee it,” she said before hanging up the phone and sinking down next to you and Bob. She wrapped you up from the other side and whispered into your ear, “It’s going to be fine, I promise he is going to be okay.” 

—

Jake knew a few things about the Indian ocean: it spanned over roughly 27 million miles, including the Persian Gulf and the Red Sea, it was about 12 thousand feet deep on average but with a deepest point at 24 thousand feet below water, and it made up about 20 percent of the Earth’s entire ocean volume.

What Jake hadn’t realised before crashing his plane into the middle of it, was how unbearably hot it actually was. The water temperature wasn’t too bad, having stayed at a cosy 75F since his plane went down, but the sun was unrelenting. He felt like he was on fire. 

Although, considering the crash, he probably was. Or had been. It was day two now, with no news of the search and rescue team and Jake was starting to feel desperate. Not because of any real threat of starvation or dehydration, but because his brain had remembered that the Indian Ocean counted about 19 species of sharks and he swore he could see fins out of the corner of his eyes.

His arms stung where his flesh had been singed by the burning jet fuel that had circled the plane when it hit the surface of the water, knocking him out cold for a few seconds. That had been his saving grace, really, since by the time he had miraculously managed to open the canopy underwater, he was far enough down that the fire wasn’t boiling him alive as he swam right under the puddle of kerosene to safety. 

His brain, unable to compute anything but the agonising pain of salt water on cuts, had grown quiet as he swam up, somehow finding a second to take in the scene. Away from humans, the water was clear. Fishes swam, dead leaves floated, and an occasional plastic bottle found its way to the fiery hell that had formed quite the considerable tower of smoke. Search and rescue might have found him already if he had stayed by the smoke, but Jake needed to survive and getting high off of jet fuel fumes didn’t seem like a good idea. It might have helped with the pain, though.

That had been day one, hour one. 

It probably wasn’t the right time, but in all honesty, he couldn’t remember much. Thinking was hard, and telling time when nothing changed at all was something he had never had to do before. So hour one eventually blended into hour seven and Jake’s attempt to keep track was already beginning to fail. Ever since he had hit the water he had been praying the Our Father, the Hail Mary, the Glory Be, any prayer he could think of was sent up. He prayed the Our Father when the sun rose and prayed the Hail Mary when the sun set and he just hoped that would be enough to remember what day it was. He knew one thing though, regardless of how much pain he was in, or how much blood he lost, he needed to come home to you. 

Day two had just started or was about to end, it didn’t really matter. The only thing that mattered was that Jake was on the raft, and surviving seemed just a little more plausible. He was making baby steps back to you. Soon, he might even be able to reach for his bottle of water. He’d been taking small sips every few hours, trying to ration what little water he had left, cursing the fact that he had given Tiny some of it before the flight. 

His head hurt so badly, and he couldn’t quite tell why. Was it the dehydration or the impact induced concussion? The dry mouth, lips and eyes, and mind numbing heat were telling him dehydration. The vomiting, confusion and large bleeding gash underneath his hairline was telling him concussion. Not that it mattered, since it wasn’t his only problem. Jake was fairly certain he had broken his leg, and considering his chest hurt he thought he might have broken a couple ribs too. 

The sun went down on day two and Jake fell asleep for a few hours, waking up just in time to catch the sky turning from starry night to early morning. And so day three started. 

He sipped his water and waited, feeling hot, in pain and slowly growing weaker. Ironically, as he grew weaker, his mind grew louder and soon enough, when he had no strength left to even shoo them all away, it felt like his mind was screaming. Still it grew louder and louder and louder, and then, nothing. 

The world went dark for Jake as he hunched over the raft and fell into the water. 

When he came to, he was on top of a mountain. Isaac and Abraham had just left, the leftovers of their sacrifice still on the altar, blood glistening in the sun. Jake stook a few hesitant steps forward, his leg dragging behind as he made his way to the edge of Mount Moriah. Before he could waddle his way there, a voice rang through the air.

“Jacob,” it called.

Jake looked around, trying to find who it belonged to, “Jacob,” it called again. He looked towards the sky and over the edge, but still he found no one.

It called him again, shaking the mountain and dropping him to the floor as if it was shaking the very foundations of the Earth.

“The pain you have been feeling cannot compare to the joy that is coming,” God spoke. The wind on Mount Moriah picked up, shaking leaves on trees and bushes so that they lay almost flat to the ground. 

“Jacob,” He called again, “The ladder.” 

“The what?” Jake called out but no one responded, “THE WHAT?” he repeated, his voice swallowed by a growing noise. It sounded strangely symmetrical and terribly familiar.

“THE WHAT?” he screamed, his voice rough with disuse and lack of lubrication. The wind whipped sand into his face, stinging his skin, and Jake closed his eyes.

“THE LADDER, CAN YOU GRAB IT?” someone replied, the voice of God replaced by a woman he had never heard before. Jake’s eyes flew open to reveal the Search and Rescue Helicopter. 

Jake reached for the ladder and grabbed it, trying to pull himself up on it. A flash of pain tore through his body, emanating from his chest and he was forced to let go. He fell back into the water with a gasp, his lungs filling with ocean water. A hand reached down to pull him up but the world faded back to black before he broke the surface.

----

Your group on the floor was interrupted by the phone ringing again. This time you didn’t even move to reach for it, your body numb and your mind racing with the information, Jake was missing. 

“Hello?” you heard Bob say, “Yes, we are with her,” it was quiet a moment longer before he spoke again, “I will let them both know, be safe.” 

Maria brought her tear stained face up from your shoulder, “Who was that?” 

“Your mom,” he answered quickly, “Her and your dad are on their way to the airport, they bought a ticket for the first flight out.” 

You felt like you were in a trance, “Good, good,” you said. 

“Are you okay?” Maria asked, her face full of concern. 

Before you could answer, pain ripped through your abdomen and you hunched forwards letting out a groan, “Owww.” 

“Oh my God,” Maria said, her eyes getting wide, “Is that?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head, your teeth clenched together in pain, “It can’t be, it’s too soon.” 

When the pain subsided, you looked at her, panic flooding through you, “My water didn’t break, they can’t be coming this early can they?” 

You tried to stand up, but couldn’t, your centre of gravity too far off from your normal. Bob pulled you up gently and you felt fine for a few minutes before another contraction ripped through you. 

“What do we do?” Bob asked Maria, as they both watched you sink into the couch, both hands clutching your stomach. 

“Call Cyclone,” she said, pulling his phone out and pressing it into his hand, “Lizzie might know something, and he will definitely know about Jake.” 

After only two rings, the Admiral picked up, “Hello?” you heard, Bob had put him on speaker phone. 

“Beau, we need some help,” Bob said, his voice sounding more nervous than you’d ever heard. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, seeming totally calm as another contraction started at the bottom of your belly. 

“What’s wrong?” you shouted at the phone, “Do you mean to tell me that you don’t know my husband is missing?” 

The line was silent for a minute before he answered, “I made the executive decision not to tell you that…” 

“Well that was dumb dad, because some fucking Rear Admiral called anyway and now I’m in labour, and I’m going to have this baby, and it’s too soon. How am I going to tell them about their father’s eyes or his..” you let out a grunt as the pain came to a peak, “His smile and how good of a man he was?” your question ending on a sob. 

“What do you mean you’re in labour?” he asked, his voice quiet. 

“I mean I’m in labour, how much more of an explanation do you need?” you yelled into the phone, sobs now breaking up your words. 

“Oh shit,” he said, “I’m, we’ll, we are coming, be there in five minutes,” he stumbled out before the line went dead. 

Bob and Maria were both looking at you, your breathing coming in shallow pants, “What? He may be the Admiral but he is my dad and I reserve the right to bring him down a peg.” 

Bob just nodded but Maria scooted closer to you on the couch, “Honey you need to take a deep breath.” 

As another wave of pain hit you, you thought that this is what hell looked like. It wasn’t fiery heat and torture, it was an early labour, for a baby who’s father may be dead. All you could think to do in that moment was pray, you fell to your knees from the couch, bending over as far as you could, and the first words that came out of your mouth were, “Hail Mary, full of grace…” 

By the time you had finished the prayer once over, Bob and Maria had joined in. Your breathing calmed as you prayed and you felt the little one inside you settle at the sound of your voice, and your hands pressing gently to their feet. A loud knock on the door brought Bob to his feet and before you knew it, Beau and Lizzie were in the room, Lizzie kneeling in front of you on the floor. 

“Are you alright? Labour? Did your water break?” she asked, her questions rushed and her eyes searching over you frantically. 

You shook your head, “I’m not alright. I don’t know if I’m in labour. No, it didn’t break,” you answered before leaning forward and resting your forehead on her shoulder, your shoulders shaking with silent sobs. 

The house was silent save for the sound of your stuttering breaths. Lizzie pulled you to her, rubbing your back gently as she whispered words of comfort in your ear, “It’s going to be okay, they’re going to find him, I promise. You aren’t in labour, it's the stress, take a deep breath honey. There you go, now another one. Good job. Just close your eyes, Jake is going to come back, he is a strong man and he won’t leave you and this precious baby without a fight, you know that.” 

The rest of her words were lost on you because at that moment, Beau decided to open his mouth, “I um, can we do anything?”

“You’ve done enough,” you said, your voice filled with venom, “How could you keep this from me? How long has he been missing?” 

“I didn’t want to worry you,” he said quietly, not elaborating on your other question. 

“Dad, how long has he been missing?” you demanded more than asked.

After a moment of silence he answered, “Almost two days.”

“Two days?” you questioned, “I could have been praying for him for two days? I can’t believe…I’m…Oh my God…” you broke down into another fit of tears, who could survive in the ocean for two days alone?

Your hands were pulled away from your face, strong arms wrapping themselves around you, before your forehead met soft fabric on a firm shoulder, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I should have told you, but I couldn’t…what if something happened? What if we found him and then you didn’t need this stress. You thought you were in labour five minutes ago, I just wanted to spare you the stress honey, your body can’t handle it.” 

You couldn’t find the strength to pick up your head, so into his shoulder you mumbled, “He’s my husband, the father of my child, the light of my life, I deserved to know, and I deserved to know much sooner than two days after you lost him.” 

Beau couldn’t find an answer to that, his silence speaking louder than any words he could have spoken. You allowed him to pull you closer to him and he brushed your hair away from your face, “I’m so sorry honey, they are looking. I promise you, on my orders they are looking.” 

Nodding your head, you tried to fight the tiredness that had overcome you, but against your will, your eyes drooped closed, and the world faded to black. 

When you woke up a few hours later, you found yourself in your bed, the blankets draped over you carefully and a dark figure slumped in the corner of your room. For a second, you had forgotten what happened, the phone call, the contractions, Beau’s bullheadedness, but in the five seconds you had been awake, it all came rushing back to you. 

You pushed yourself up to sitting in the bed, scooping up one of Jake’s pillows that you had stuffed into his favourite sweatshirt. Burying your nose into the fabric, you let out a quiet sob when his fading scent hit your nose, the notes of leather, whiskey, and pine were prominent and every now and then you caught a hint of vanilla. No matter how many times you had sprayed it with his cologne, it didn’t smell quite the same as he did and only this sweatshirt got close to feeling like Jake. 

You felt a hand on your shoulder and you had to choke back the instinct to scream. Pulling your head from the pillow you turned to find Isabella sitting on the edge of your bed, tears in her own eyes. 

Without saying a word, she wrapped you in her arms and the two of you cried together. There was something almost Biblical about it, the mother-in-law comforting the daughter-in-law. 

When you had run out of tears, and your breaths were coming in hiccups Isabella pulled back from you, her hands coming up to wipe your cheeks. 

“He knew this was a risk when he took this job,” she said slowly, “But I am happy that he has such a strong wife to carry on in his absence, however short or long,” she paused, seeming to think, “I hope you know that we will be here for you, whatever happens, no matter what.” 

You hugged her to you again, “Thank you,” you whispered into her hair, “You don’t know how much that means to me.” 

When you finally let go of her, she brushed away the last of your tears before standing up, “Let’s go see the others, shall we?” she asked, holding her hand out to you. 

“Okay,” you said, your voice rough from crying and disuse. You allowed her to help you out of bed and down the stairs, your belly no longer tingling with the pain of contractions. 

“There she is,” Lizzie said, her face brightening at seeing your presence in the living room. Everyone was gathered around the kitchen table, Maria had a rosary in her hands and her lips were moving quickly. Bob was seated next to her, talking quietly with Father Dan. Giovanni was seated at one head of the table and at the sight of you and Isabella emerging from the hall, he got up and came over, wrapping you in a tight hug. 

“Where’s dad?” you asked Lizzie, looking around for him, “I’m afraid I may have said some things I shouldn’t have…” 

“I think you said everything he needed to hear,” Lizzie told you, her voice firm. 

At that moment you heard a raised voice from outside, “I don’t care how long it takes or what kind of resources you are using, he is an asset of the US Navy, one that we have spent a lot of money on, and I expect you to find him, today,” Beau said, a note of finality to his voice, “And don’t think I don’t know that you went around my back Rear Admiral MacFarlane.” There was a pause before he continued, “Because the next of kin is my fucking daughter who is seven months pregnant, you think it was right to tell her that when she could have been home by herself?”. 

You watched as Beau’s face turned red and for the first time since you had known the man, he lost his temper, “I don’t care if that isn’t in the rulebook! It fucking should be, no one should receive that kind of news alone, especially if they are carrying one of our sailor’s babies. Find Seresin and do it today.” He hung up the phone and in a stunt that made you laugh, threw it across your lawn. With his back at the house, he put his hands on his hips and turned his head up to the sky, letting out what you imagined was a very deep breath.

You excused yourself from the room and made your way into the backyard, walking up behind the Admiral. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so angry,” you said, scaring him. 

He jumped, turning to you with one hand pressed over his chest, “You scared me, twice,” he said, walking towards you quickly and pulling you into a hug. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-” you started but he cut you off. 

“No, I’m sorry. I should have told you about Jake, I just wanted to protect you,” he said, “But you are a grown woman and you did have the right to know, and I’m sorry you didn’t hear it from me.” 

You wrapped your arms around his waist as best you could, your belly getting in the way, “It’s okay dad, just help me get him home?” 

“Of course, we are going to find him,” Beau said, rubbing your back. 

You stood there for a few minutes before asking the question that had been plaguing your mind since you got the news that Jake was MIA, “What happened?”

You felt him sigh before answering, “Their mission was going well until Prince hung Jake out to dry, saving his own ass. Jake’s plane went into the Indian Ocean almost fifty hours ago,” he paused and you knew the next bit of information was going to be what worried you the most, “They had no report of a chute, but his life raft deployed because there was green dye in the water at his last reported location.” 

“Why haven’t they found him yet?” you asked. 

“His transponder isn’t working and the boat took almost an hour to get to the plane’s location. Those two things combined mean he’s drifting somewhere out at sea,” Beau finished. 

You nodded, burying your head into his chest again, “Thank you, for working so hard to find him.” 

“I would do it for any of them, but especially him,” he said, letting out a breath. 

You stepped back from him and he took your hand in his, wrapping it around his arm as he escorted you into the yard to pick up his phone. The two of you walked in silence, him crouching to get the phone and then steering you both back towards the house. It was getting into late October, and the weather was cooling down quite a bit. You weren’t sure of the time, but the chill in the air made you think it was early morning. 

When you reentered the house, you found everyone watching you expectantly. 

“Yes?” you asked the room, looking around to see who would break first. 

“We have an idea,” Bob started, “We want to recruit the church, well some of the church to start a prayer vigil for Jake, until he is brought home.” 

Father Dan nodded, “We would send an email to the parish and then people can sign up to pray between certain hours so that there is someone always in God’s ear for his safe return.” 

“I think that sounds great, in fact, I’ll take the first two hours,” you said as you made your way to the bookcase you had decorated to be your little ‘shrine’ to catholicism. On top of the table was your rosary, Jake’s was probably in his bag on the carrier and the thought made your heart clench. Pouring it out of the bag and into your hand, you made your way back into the living room and took a seat on the couch, beginning the first of many times around the rosary. 

While Isabella and Lizzie were fixing breakfast, everyone in the house found some way to occupy themselves. Maria was cleaning, Bob was pacing the floor speaking quietly with Father Dan as emails from parationers rolled in saying they would help, and Giovanni was talking with Beau at the table, the two of them bent over a map of the Indian Ocean. 

When your two hours of prayer were up, you almost didn’t want to stop. The repetition of the words was calming and focusing on finding Jake was keeping the rest of your worries about the circumstances of his accident at bay. 

The day passed slowly, most of your time spent clutching a cold cup of chamomile tea to your chest while you sat in Jake’s recliner in the living room. Every now and then you would feel your little one move, like they were reminding you that you weren’t alone even in a room full of people. 

As you started to nod off in the evening, a blanket spread over you, the chair reclined back, and Jeopardy playing lowly on the TV, Beau’s phone rang. He looked up at the room before picking it up, walking into your garage. 

Immediately you were awake, getting up from the chair and standing in the living room. When he came back in, the look on his face made your heart race, he was happy. 

“They found him,” he said, “He’s on a chopper now headed back to the boat.” 

The relief that flooded through your system made your legs weak and you sat heavily back into the chair. You crossed yourself and thanked God, for bringing him back to you. 

Beau’s face turned slightly less happy and you seemed to be the only one who noticed it, “What’s wrong?” you asked, your voice wary. 

“They said he’s pretty severely injured,” he said quietly, “They expect several ribs to be broken, and he has a broken leg. In addition to that he is suffering from a concussion, severe dehydration, and sun poisoning. Once they get him to the carrier they are going to update me again on his condition before they load him on a plane back to North Island.”

The relief that you had been feeling was swept away from you in an instant, it was replaced with an intense worry and fear. Was Jake going to be the same when he came back? How bad are his injuries? At that moment, your baby kicked hard. You rubbed over its little foot, “It’ll be okay, daddy’s going to be alright,” you whispered to your bump. 

Isabella voiced another question that you hadn’t the mind to think of yet, “When will we be able to see him?” 

Beau paused for a moment before answering, “By my maths, I believe he will arrive back tomorrow. Depending on his injuries they may not allow visitors or they may want to perform surgery if something is bad enough so I can’t promise a time, but tomorrow he will be here.” 

Everyone nodded along with his words, Father Dan asked, “Should I keep the prayer vigil up then? Just until he is home and through any surgeries?” 

“I would appreciate that,” you said, a sad smile coming over your face. 

Now that Jake was coming home, the relief felt through the house was refreshing, but you had your own worries about his injuries. That night, before you went to bed, you kneeled down next to it and thanked God for returning Jake to you. You prayed that he would recover quickly and you tried to keep the thoughts of what Beau had said about his injuries from your mind. 

As you climbed into bed and turned out the lights, you mentally prepared yourself for seeing him the next day. By the time you fell asleep, you were hoping for the best, but prepared for the worst. 

----

“ -- broken ribs, broken leg --” someone said, their voice sounding so far away, as if Jake was listening to someone speak through a thick brick wall, “ -- concussion and severe dehydration. His chances of survival are good, but recovery will be slow,” they said, becoming slightly clearer, “Physical therapy, and likely a skin graft surgery for the burn on his back.”

Jake coughed and silence fell over the room. He opened his eyes, eager to see you again, but the only people in the room were a greying doctor and a group of medical students, standing alert in their scrubs with a stethoscope hanging around their neck. They made him feel like a zoo exhibit.

“Mr Seresin, you’re awake,” the doctor said, moving towards him to check him over, “How do you feel?”

“Like someone tap danced on my chest,” he joked, his voice sounding strange as it passed through his bone dry throat. Speaking sent him into a coughing fit, the pain in his chest making him see stars with every movement. He gritted his teeth together and stayed perfectly still for a few seconds, hoping the pain would pass but it didn't diminish much. 

The doctor looked at him, then pressed a button and a nurse appeared. They exchanged words and she left again, only to come back a minute later with a syringe. Jake felt his heart drop in his chest and he tried to fight back, two of the medical students held him back against the bed and she sank the needle into his arm. A minute later, his eyes fluttered closed again, not before seeing your scared face in the doorway. 

“ -- Therefore you have no excuse, O man, every one of you who judges. For in passing judgement on another you condemn yourself, because you, the judge, practise the very same things --” a familiar voice read. 

 

Jake’s eyes fluttered open, revealing Daniel lounging in one of the uncomfortable chairs by his bedside. He was wearing his regular clothes, a pair of black jeans and a white tee hidden underneath a half zipped up hoodie. The steady beeping of a machine to Jake’s right sped up as he looked around, desperately trying to find you. 

 

The pillows piled high underneath his neck were making it hard to look around and moving his body was impossible but still he tried, straining as much as possible to look over any obstruction. He groaned and Father Daniel stopped mid-sentence. He closed his bible.

 

“Jake, it’s alright,” he reassured him, moving to sit on the edge of his bed, “She went home to shower, she’s okay. She’ll be back. We’re watching over you in the meantime, you can go back to sleep,” Daniel said and Jake didn’t struggle, falling back into sleep’s open arms as soon as the words had come out of Father’s mouth. 

 

When he woke up again, Father was still there, speaking into the empty room as if it were a packed church, pacing around the room and rehearsing that week's homily, “Judgement is very prominent in today’s society. We like to judge people for who they are --” he started and stopped, fishing a piece of paper out of his back pocket and checking his script, “We like to judge people for what they wear, what they own, what they do. We judge people for how much money they have, what they do with it, what their jobs are. I will admit that I have been guilty of that sin. I have looked at celebrities and criticised their appearance, I have scoffed at teens when they tell me they want to be influencers, I have caught myself thinking that some of the citizens of this fine country must have gotten their driver’s licence in cereal box tops,” Dan paused, checking his piece of paper, “All of these, regardless of how mean or menial they are, are bad. All judgement is bad. But the worst one in my opinion is one I encounter daily, be it through seeing memes on facebook, or hearing it from the mouths of my parishioners, it is the judgement we cast over others for their belief or disbelief of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.”

 

“When we look upon others and judge them for the way they do or do not worship. When we look at their faith and tell them they are doing things wrong, when we look at their relationship with the Lord and think that they could do things better, we must remember that the standards we apply to them, the Lord will apply to us --” he continued.

 

“Most people do get their licences from cereal box tops,” Jake said, his voice raspy and hard to understand. Father Dan turned to him.

 

“Seresin, I have experienced your driving. That line was specifically directed at you I’ll have you know,” he joked.

 

“How dare you, I will have you know my instructor said I was a delight,” Jake replied, pulling himself into a somewhat upright position.

 

“Sure he did, you’re built like a mountain and you have the worst road rage I have ever seen,” Dan laughed.

 

“Bob,” Jake replied, Daniel paused, giving his retort some thought.

 

“Second worst road rage I have ever seen,” he acquiesced, “How are you feeling?”

 

“You know, I have never been so aware that I had ribs in my life,” Jake joked, wincing only a second later.

 

“No kiddin’... You want me to call a nurse or something? See if they can get you a pain killer?” Dan offered.

 

“No, but I want my wife,” Jake replied.

 

“I called her twenty minutes ago when you came to. She’s on her way. Bob’s driving though, so you can expect her to get here in a year or two,” he laughed, “We were taking shifts at your bedside so you wouldn’t have to wake up alone.”

 

“I can’t thank you all enough,” Jake said, accidentally shifting his weight on the pillows, “Shit, that hurts,” he winced.

“You’re going to need to watch your mouth when your kid gets here,” the priest chastised him. 

“I got two months to kick the habit,” he replied, “How is she? Everything okay with her and the baby?”

“Everything is fine,” Dan said, “You sure you’re okay, bud?”

“I thought I was going to die,” he said, “I think God spoke to me.”

Father Dan smiled, “What was it like?”

Jake closed his eyes and tried to remember. As if projecting a film on the back of his brain the memory came back scene by scene. He felt the gravel of Mount Moriah underneath his boots, the stones sliding and rolling away as limped his way up the path. The sun was beating down on him as he walked but it didn’t hurt, it felt gentle and warming, almost like the setting Texas sun of his boyhood. 

Jake remembered the vague understanding that he had crossed Abraham and Isaac on the path at some point, but the altar confirmed it. The stones were red with blood, seeping through the cracks and dripping onto the ground. Jake, before he could stop and think, reached for it, using it to pull himself forward. He leaned against the altar, turning his hand around expecting to see it slick with the ram’s blood but it was clean. His name was called, shaking him out of his reverie. The voice resonated through the air, cutting through everything as though the volume had been turned down on the environmental noise. Jake turned around, trying to catch a glimpse of who the voice belonged to.

There really hadn’t been a doubt in his mind about who the voice had belonged to. He felt the words in his bones, flowing through his blood, his body reacted to it like he had never been made to do anything else. He still limped his way to the edge of the mountain and looked down, seeing nothing but grass, birds and people. He raised his head to the sky, but the clouds gave nothing away. 

The Lord called to him once more, sending a jolt through the earth that threw him against the ground. Jake braced himself for a wave of pain, but nothing came. 

“The pain you have been feeling cannot compare to the joy that is coming,” God said, and Jake knew it was true. As true as the fact that you loved him, that he was alive, that your baby would be born, that his name was Jacob Thomas Seresin and that God was Good and speaking to Him. 

The wind picked up. The breeze that had been making the air up on Mount Moriah pleasant and fresh grew stronger and stronger until it lifted earth and sand and spun it upwards into the sky. It blew until trees bent and leaves flattened. There were no more birds, no more insects, and soon the dust made it so that there was no more Mount Moriah.

“Jacob,” He called again, his voice swallowed by the wind, “The ladder.” 

Jake opened his eyes again and blinked rapidly at the cool white light emanating from the large overhead lamps.

“It was…Everything,”he said, his voice a whisper in the room. 

“What did he sound like?” Father Dan probed further, looking at him like his nephews did whenever they asked him to describe what flying was like, full of wonder and amazement.

Jake thought for a moment, “Hard to describe, really. Loud, I guess. Unmistakable? But gentle and reassuring at the same time. And just… I don’t know, inevitable. Like whatever he was telling me was certain, it would happen and I have no choice in the matter.”

Dan took a breath before speaking again, “Can I ask, you don’t have to answer obviously, but what did He say?”

“He said I’d be okay,” Jake replied, feeling strange about revealing His words. They had been spoken to him, and selfishly, he wanted to keep them for himself.

Father Dan smiled brightly, sitting up on his chair. He looked at Jake and let out a breathy laugh.

“Has it happened to you before?” Jake asked but Dan never had time to answer as just as he was about to, the door opened to reveal you. It felt like the world stood still, like the clouds parted to reveal the sunshine after weeks of torrential rain. It felt like taking a breath after diving underwater for too long.

“Hey,” he breathed.

“Hey,” you replied in the same tone of voice.

“We’ll leave you two alone,” Dan said, pushing Bob back out of the room before Jake could see more than the back of his hand pushing the door open further. 

“I thought you had died,” you said, tears welling up in your eyes as you made your way towards him. 

“Never,” he smiled brightly, “You’re stuck with me forever!” 

Jake stuck out his arms to ask for a hug, you sat on the edge of the bed so as not to hurt him but he pulled you into him, ignoring the agonising pain he felt when you leaned into his chest to squeeze you close, “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too,” you replied.

----

Almost ten days after Jake’s skin graft surgery, the doctors cleared him to go home. To help while he recovered, Isabella and Giovanni had decided to stay, stealing the guest room from Maria and banishing her to the sofa. She grumbled and groaned for a few days but whatever Jake had asked her to do in the nursery was taking up half of her day, the other half being almost solely dedicated to placing the finishing touches on the house, to get it ready for the wedding. 

You hadn’t been in weeks now, but she had been all too happy to show you pictures. They had done some wonderful work. All bathrooms had been retiled, with new showers, baths and sinks installed. The bedrooms had been painted and carpet ripped out, and the kitchen had been gutted and changed from outdated to modern. In the livingroom and dining room, Bob had installed beautiful hardwood flooring. The garage, which could have housed two cars had been divided, one half turned into  Bob’s very own workshop. All that was left was to finish the attic, which they would turn into Maria’s art studio, and buy the furniture, which she was more than thrilled about. 

“I’m thinking maybe like, lots of white and light colours, so it feels very lit up. We have those beautifully large windows that show the yard, so I feel like we need to take advantage of that. But obviously I don’t want it to be too monotone? So I feel like we need a few pops of colour, you know?” She asked, leaning her head against the back of the sofa, “Did you guys have this much trouble decorating this place?”

“I’ll be honest, we had most of the furniture already and Jake painted everything in about a week. We got lucky, the house was in really good condition and the colours were pretty much what we wanted already,” you explained, rubbing your belly. Beanie had been making their presence known since Jake got home, sending their little foot into your tummy every few minutes. Recently though, their aim had gotten worse, and every other kick landed straight into your ribs. The only thing that seemed to improve it, was an extra large tub of Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia ice cream and some belly rubs from Jake. Conscious not to let you eat too many calories, Maria had graciously offered to help you finish off your tub, and was now digging a spoonful out of her own bowl.

“So lucky,” she said, licking the back of her spoon, “I am so sore,” she stated, “I need a bath.” Maria stood up from her seat and left in the direction of the bathroom, passing her mother in the kitchen and her father reading the newspaper by the dining room table. It had been a quiet day, with everyone at home as rain poured down from the sky in thick droplets that left everything muddy. 

Jake entered the room. The doctors had asked him to keep moving to a minimum and to sleep on his front, two instructions he ignored almost immediately but it didn’t seem to hinder his recovery all that much.His crutches ticked against the floor as he approached you. You lifted your spoonful of ice cream up to your lips but your tongue never tasted the sweet treat, as just as you were about to, Jake swiped the spoon out of your hands and ate it himself.

“Hey!” you protested but Jake crutched away as quickly as he could, the spoon still in his mouth. He made his way through the living room and then the kitchen, scaring his mother in the process.You followed right behind.

“Non correre con un cucchiaio!” she shouted after him. Don’t run with a spoon!  

Jake laughed, “Non sto correndo!” he mumbled, I’m not running! Isabella rolled her eyes. 

You followed him to the nursery where you finally got your spoon back, but before you could turn around and walk away, Jake pushed the door open to reveal what was inside. You gasped. It was beautiful, Maria had truly outdone herself. 

The whole room was painted a crisp white. Even though the day outside was rainy, the brightness of the walls made the one window in the room shine with light. On the wall with the crib, there was a delicately painted mural. The wall itself had been painted a sky blue and a few puffy white clouds had been added to the atmosphere. A squadron of F18s was pictured flying across the top corner of the room, a two seater front and centre featured Dove and Hangman name inscriptions below the pilot and WSO seats. There was a smaller plane centred over the crib, its name place missing an inscription. The painting was realistic but also slightly animated, making it feel fit for a child’s room.

Turning your head, you spotted a changing table, painted a light grey to match the F18s, its knobs little bronze stars. Over it hung a canvas, on it in calligraphy was James 1:17, every good and perfect gift is from above. 

There was a grey rug in the middle of the room and in one corner was tucked a white padded rocking chair. Over the back Maria had thrown the blankets that Nonna had made them. Once you had finished your quick scan of the beautiful room, you walked over to the mural wall, stopping next to the crib, you brushed your hand over the little F18 on the wall, “What…Did…is this what Maria…” you couldn’t find the words. 

Jake came up behind you, he leaned his crutches on the crib before wrapping his arms around you, “Do you like it?” 

“I love it,” you said with a smile as Jake pressed a kiss to the top of your head. The two of you stood in a comfortable silence, Jake’s arms wrapped around your midsection, you making sure not to lean too far into him as he was standing on one leg. 

Your bubble of peace was interrupted when Maria walked by in the hall, “Oh, so you showed her without me?” 

Jake let out a quiet laugh, “I wanted it to be a private moment, I didn’t know how she was going to react!” 

Maria just rolled her eyes, “I figure we can fill in the name spot when the little one gets here,” she said with a smile aimed at you. 

“It’s lovely, thank you so much,” you said, “I don’t even know what to say to be honest.” 

“I will take your speechlessness as payment enough,” Maria said with an excited smile before walking down the hall towards the stairs. 

As Maria left, you felt a little kick from your stomach. You guided Jake’s hand over it and smiled as he rubbed a finger over their little foot. Standing in the nursery, with your newly returned husband, you found yourself disappointed that the baby wasn’t there yet. 

Turning back into Jake, he hugged you as a few tears slipped from your eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, brushing your hair away from your face. 

You let out a sigh before answering, “I just wish he or she was here already, I want to hold them and show them this beautiful room.” 

“They will make their appearance when they are ready Princess, we just need to be patient,” Jake said, kissing your forehead. 

You let out a laugh, “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more.” 

[bookclub4m]

Episode 193 - Spring Media Update

It’s time for our Spring Media Update episode! We talk about art installations, manga, board games, comics, and birds. So many birds.

You can download the podcast directly, find it on Libsyn, or get it through Apple Podcasts or your favourite podcast delivery system.

In this episode

Anna Ferri | Meghan Whyte | Matthew Murray | Jam Edwards

Join our Discord Server!

Media We’ve Been Consuming

Jam

Quality Assurance in Another World by Masamichi Satō

Wingspan (board game designed by Elizabeth Hargrave)

Redactle

New York Times responds to Only Connect resemblance

Anna

Meow Wolf

Convergence Station

Terraria

Terraria Ep1 || Mine O'Clock

Amanda the Jedi

Explaining the Chaotic Disaster of Madame Web

Meghan

Lisa LeBlanc 

Long books : 

The Abominable by Dan Simmons (663 pages)

Dead Water by C.A. Fletcher (513 pages)

The Year of the Locust by Terry Hayes (760 pages)

Bungalow Details Interior by Jane Powell

Matthew

Spy x Family, vol. 1 by Tatsuya Endo

Giant Days Library Edition, vol. 1 by by  John Allison, Lissa Treiman, and Max Sarin

Birds We Mentioned

Chickadee

Emu

Cassowary

Kākāpō

Shoebill

Tawny Frogmouth

Pesquet's parrot (Dracula Parrot)

Kiwi

Hawk

Pigeon

Crow

Chicken

Links, Articles, and Things

OLA RA in a Day

Yotsuba&!, vol. 1 by Kiyohiko Azuma

Chiac

Acadia

Birds Aren’t Real

Only Connect

Bungalow

12 Political Thrillers by BIPOC Authors

Every month Book Club for Masochists: A Readers’ Advisory Podcasts chooses a genre at random and we read and discuss books from that genre. We also put together book lists for each episode/genre that feature works by BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, & People of Colour) authors. All of the lists can be found here.

Rogue Justice by Stacey Abrams

The Caretaker by A.X. Ahmad

The Opium Prince by Jasmine Aimaq

Exceptional Circumstances by James Bartleman

The Emperor of Ocean Park by Stephen L. Carter

The Sniper by Chang Kuo-Li, translated by Roddy Flag

The Executioner’s Game by Gary Hardwick

What You Leave Behind by Wanda M. Morris

One in the Chamber by Robin Peguero

Grant Park by Leonard Pitts Jr.

Paper Gods by Goldie Taylor

American Spy by Lauren Wilkinson

Give us feedback!

Fill out the form to ask for a recommendation or suggest a genre or title for us to read!

Check out our Tumblr, follow us on Instagram, join our Facebook Group or Discord Server, or send us an email!

Join us again on Tuesday, May 7th we’ll be discussing books from Indie Publishers!

Then on Tuesday, June 4th we’ll be discussing non-fiction Pop Culture!

[snackerdoodle]

books I read in 2023

I had a huge reading year this year because of my gruelingly long commute. The list below the cut is mostly for my own edification, but I’m a nosy person who supports other nosy people, so if you want to know what I’ve been up to, have at it. Almost everything I read this year was from the library.

1/12 A Charmed Life, Diana Wynne Jones

1/18 The Lesbiana’s Guide to Catholic School, Sonora Reyes

1/24 The Life-Changing Magic of 

Tidying Up, Marie Kondo

1/25 Hotel Magnifique, Emily J. Taylor

1/30 Spark Joy, Marie Kondo 

2/2 The House in the Cerulean Sea, TJ Klune

2/8 The Golden Enclaves, Naomi Novik

2/8 Delilah Green Doesn’t Care, Ashley Herring Blake

2/15 The Nile, Toby Wilkinson

2/23 The Painted Queen, Elizabeth Peters and Joan Hess

2/28 Ella Enchanted, Gail Carson Levine

3/5 Tipping the Velvet, Sarah Waters

3/12 Lord of the Silent, Elizabeth Peters

3/16 Marie Kondo’s Kurashi at Home, Marie Kondo 

3/20 Shirley Jackson: A Rather Haunted Life, Ruth Franklin

3/20 The Art of Simple Living, Shunmyo Masuno

3/26 The Bird’s Nest, Shirley Jackson

4/11 Life Among the Savages, Shirley Jackson

4/12 A People’s History of the United States, Howard Zinn

4/18 The Yellow Wallpaper and Other Stories, Charlotte Perkins Gilman

4/21 Rest Is Resistance: A Manifesto, Tricia  Hersey

5/1 Last Night at the Telegraph Club, Malinda Lo

5/3 Astrid Parker Doesn’t Fail, Ashley Herring Blake

5/10 Fight Like Hell: The Untold Story of American Labor, Kim Kelly

5/11 Conflict Resolution for Holy Beings, Joy Harjo 

5/12 Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People About Race, Reni Eddo-Lodge

5/15 The Lottery and Other Stories, Shirley Jackson

5/18 The Lives of Christopher Chant, Diana Wynne Jones

5/29 A Little Devil in America, Hanif Abdurraqib

6/3 A Marvellous Light, Freya Marske

6/6 Ducks, Kate Beaton 

6/8 Wild and Wicked Things, Francesca May (awful. Every character was an idiot. Why did I finish this)

6/10 Breathing Lessons: A Doctor’s Guide to Lung Health, Meilan K. Han, MD

6/19 The Three Body Problem, Cixin Liu

6/19 A Fortune for Your Disaster, Hanif Abdurraqib (I liked this even more than the last one I read. Maybe because it was an audiobook read by the author.)

6/22 Disjointed, Diana Jovin (ed) (skipped parts that were totally unrelated to me and some things that were also too technical)

6/22 The Lavender Scare, David K. Johnson

6/26 Enquête au collège, Jean-Phillipe Arrou-Vignod 

6/28 The Thief, Megan Whalen Turner

7/3 Last Call, Elon Green

7/12 Cache Cache Petit Fantôme

7/13 Le Petit Prince, Antoine de Saint-

Exupéry

7/13 La fille qui navigua autour de féérie dans un bateau construit de ses propres mains, Catherynne M Valente

7/14 Lost in the Moment and Found, Seanan McGuire

7/14 Ich mag dich gesund sagte der Bär, Janosch

7/25 The Lies of Locke Lamora, Scott Lynch

7/31 The Adventures of Amina Al-Sirafi, Shannon Chakraborty

8/10 A Restless Truth, Freya Marske 

8/16 Camp Damascus, Chuck Tingle

9/6 The Body in the Garden, Katherine Schellman

9/11 Silence in the Library, Katherine Schellman

9/13 When Things Get Dark, various 

9/19 Death at the Manor, Katherine Schellman

9/25 Sorcery and Cecelia, Patricia C Wrede and Caroline Stevermer

10/3 The Grand Tour, Patricia C Wrede and Caroline Stevermer 

10/6 Murder at Midnight, Katharine Schellman

10/12 The Mislaid Magician, Patricia C Wrede and Caroline Stevermer

10/18 Shakespeare Was a Woman and Other Heresies, Elizabeth Winkler

10/18 Harry Potter und der Stein der Weisen, JK Rowling

10/25 Poisoner in Chief: Sidney Gottlieb and the CIA search for Mind Control, Stephen Kinzer

11/1 Iris Kelly Doesn’t Date, Ashley Herring Blake

11/3 Nothing But Blackened Teeth, Cassandra Shaw

11/9 Unfuck Your Habitat, Rachel Hoffman

11/11 Safe and Sound, Mercury Stardust 

11/12 Organizing Solutions for People with ADHD (revised and updated), Susan C. Pinskey

11/18 Red Seas under Red Skies, Scott Lynch

11/20 In With the Old: Classic Decor A to Z,  Jennifer Boles 

11/23 Habitat: The Field Guide to Decorating, Lauren Liess

11/24 Vermeer: The Complete Paintings, Norbert Schneider 

11/29 The Conscious Closet, Elizabeth L. Cline

12/4 Leech, Hiron Ennes

12/6 The Star that Always Stays, Anna Rose Johnson 

P12/14 The Republic of Thieves, Scott Lynch

12/15 An American Sunrise, Joy Harjo

12/20 The Wife Upstairs, Rachel Hawkins

12/22 How to Keep House While Drowning, KC Davis

12/30 The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning, Margareta Magnusson 

Gave up on: The Woman Who Would Be King, Kara Cooney (too speculative/fictionalized)

A Scatter of Light, Malinda Lo (nothing really wrong, it just wasn’t holding my attention at all)

14 histoires pour avoir peur mais pas trop quand même (turned into full cast audio and the music between stories was really annoying)

Manhunt, Gretchen Felker-Martin (not in the right headspace maybe, maybe just not for me)

American Cozy, Stephanie Pedersen (got annoyed at how much of the information hinged on living in a huge suburban home with 18 closets and a husband and multiple children you can make do your chores for you)

The Curated Closet, Anuschka Rees (not bad just not what I was looking for)