#I NEED TO PARISH

[jo-gakky]

ERM SO- I like the thought of Steb with a "Yapper" S/O, and the idea of him shooshing them with smooches when they stay hyper and keep talking while they're supposed to be asleep makes me so giddy! So um silly short comic moment

[reine-de-rat]

The hill I will die on is that Emmrich is assertive to sassy Rook when he's had enough of the teasing and and flirting and pushing his buttons.

And he will most definitley pin Rook against the nearest surface in private and say things like "Such a wicked thing you are. Whatever shall I do with you?"

Then proceed to absolutely drive Rook mad because he would 100% use his knowledge of anatomy to know where to touch and press without ever giving Rook what they want until Rook is a breathless mess and when they inevitably make some noise or say his name he pulls back to observe his work and say something like,

"Yes, dear one? Use your words."

....

Sendhelp

[valtsv]

not the christ parallels... faulkner built his own crown of thorns and hammered the nails into his own cross and now he's walking to the place where they'll string him up and pray to him through his pleas for it all to end. they'll remain fervent in their faith in him, in his story, and turn his agony into a symbol of worshipful adoration. he will never be just a man again.

[nikki-rook]

You think you're gonna have all the time in the world... but nobody does - 3x13 (deleted scene) / 4x20 x

[anachilles]

“So, what’s the prognosis, Doc? Am I gonna live?”

Your firehouse buckies? 😍 or anything else with buck x bucky 💓

omg hi! and please yes give me all the excuses to write my firehouse!au buckies!! (for those who may not be familiar - this is firefighter!bucky and bartender/PhD student!buck) here's a little thing set significantly further along than where we're currently at in the actual fic lol. + shout out to @avonne-writes and their 'who's taking who's surname?' poll and the discourse for inspiring a little part of this lol. currently taking prompts from this list: [ x ]

"So, what's the prognosis, Doc? Am I gonna live?"

His voice hoarse and barely there, trust John to tease him even around the tail end of a thermometer, just as Gale went to pull it from his mouth.

'Suppose he can't be too sick if he still has jokes,' was the first thought that came to Gale's mind. The second thought though, sneaking up hot on the first's heels, was 'John would be cracking jokes on his damn deathbed so that really isn't as much of a reassurance as it should be.'

Gale squinted as he examined the numbers. The light was low in the early winter morning, the sun not having quite fully risen yet. He'd usually have switched even just his own bedside lamp on as he got himself ready to leave for the day, but with John's groan of protest that particular morning, he’d quickly switched off again.

It'd been a restless night, and even though they were both feeling the impact of John's tossing and turning, and the seemingly inability for him to breathe at all through his nose anymore, the man himself just looked downright exhausted with it. He'd eventually managed to fall asleep with his hot, clammy forehead pressed into the back of Gale’s neck, plastered to his back, and Gale hadn’t the heart to try and move him despite how he had then been overheating.

"You know there's another, arguably much more enjoyable way to do that..." John leered, even if half-heartedly, and if only to fill the silence as Gale's eyebrows pinched at whatever he saw on the little digital screen.

See, this is why they'd more or less permanently shacked up at Buck's place rather than his. He had stuff like thermometers lying around. Stuff an actual home has.

Gale looked up at him then, incredulous. "You're really trying to flirt with me, sitting there with a 101 degree fever?" he said, turning the thermometer as if to prove his point. Incredulous, but not surprised; not really.

"Baby, if I'm ever sick enough that I don't want to flirt with you, make you blush all pretty like you do, that's when you should be worried."

Gale had almost been tempted to smile at that, until John had to cut himself off, a sudden bout of congested coughing rattling from his throat.

Capturing the inner corner of his bottom lip between his teeth, Gale sighed, his long legs unfolding from beneath him and as he got up from where he'd been perching on his side of the bed. He crossed to John's bedside, pulling the covers further up around the other man’s chest.

Gale clicked his tongue slightly, though his expression and voice betrayed him in their co-ordinating softness. "All of this because you just had to be the hero and go jump in the damn lake."

Off to the side of them, Maverick jumped up onto the bed, sleepily curling in at Bucky's side in the warm spot Gale had just vacated. She bumped her head against John's hand, eager and impatient as the day Gale met her. John responded without even having to look away from the conversation, his fingers scritching at the especially soft little spot of fur behind each of her ears.

“Hey, I saved someone's life."

Gale wordlessly took his phone from his pocket, showing him the text he'd already gotten from Benny, "Just FYI - let the record show that the guy knew how to swim and your boy did not have to jump in after him."

Uh, since when did his team all acquire his boyfriend's number just for the purposes of ratting him out?

"Well how was I supposed to know that?! It’s called due diligence."

Either way, he'd ended up with what seemed to either be a wicked cold or the beginnings of the flu for his trouble.

"You make up for your lack of sympathy with your excellent bedside manner, Doctor" John said, talking half to himself as Gale strode out to the kitchen at the sound of the kettle whistling.

He continued as the other man reappeared a minute later, a steaming Fire Department-branded mug in one hand, his own filled travel mug in the other. "Huh, that's kind of funny, seeing as you will be and everything. Dr Cleven."

“Not that kind of doctor,” Gale muttered, and John breathed out a faint laugh. He knew the difference, duh, but it was cute when Gale interpreted things so literally sometimes before he could think about it.

Gale quirked a brow as he set the mug down on John’s bedside table, batting aside lozenge wrappers and tissues with the rim of it to make room.

"Y'know what has an even better ring to it, though? Dr Gale Egan..."

When the idea of marriage came up between them, it was always in an abstract, vague kind of sense, underpinned by off-hand comments and passing jokes relaying the image of some version of their life that lay a safe distance away on the horizon. It wasn't right in front of them yet, but it felt comfortably inevitable, which made talking about it casually not really a big deal. One of the more common jokes being what they do in terms of surnames.

Gale could tell John was sentimental about his father's name in a way he himself wasn't about his own. It was never said so outright, but he got the sense that it was either a matter of hyphenating (even with John's arguments that neither Cleven-Egan or Egan-Cleven 'sounded right'), or Gale taking John's.

When Gale thought about the idea of shedding his father's name, he felt so much nothing it almost pissed him off because shouldn't it evoke something? Is that not the most normal reaction to losing such a defining part of your identity, feeling some sense of sadness? Of loss? It felt more to him like shrugging off a grimy, weather-beaten old coat turned threadbare in the elements, not particularly pleasant but reliably familiar. It was simply what he had.

Looking now, he took in the pallid, rheumy face and contrastingly long, firm lines of a man who loved him like John loved him. Who loved him so unshakeably, proved to him over and over seemingly without even really having to try; who made it look easy. Who loved him in a way he didn't think he ever could be loved, or be prompted himself to love like he loved John back.

"Well, then I guess you have until I finish my PhD to marry me."

There was a weird beat of silence and neither seem to be sure whether they were still joking or not.

“You saying you want to marry me? Is that a proposal? A deathbed proposal?” The look that bloomed on John’s face was as adorable as it was utterly insufferable. It was, however, quickly dispelled however by a sudden sneeze. He reached for more tissues, the groan that followed evidently vexed.

It cut through whatever tension had inadvertently bled into the moment, though, and Gale smiled. “Bless you. Tempting proposition that it is…” Gale finally said, as he checked his watch. When he continued, there was an edge of regret in his voice. “If I want to be Dr Anything I’d better get going.”

A noise echoed from John's throat, half displeased, half mournful.

Gale sighed and leant forward, bringing a gentle hand to John's fever-flushed cheek, his thumb stroking lightly on the sharp angle of his cheekbone. "Now, you get some sleep and drink plenty of water, you hear me? You can have more of these here pills in like a couple more hours. I should be home around 3ish, but text me if you need anything or your temperature gets any higher."

His voice was as even and steady as ever, only John could tell he was fretting slightly by how unsettled his hands were, and how they kept touching him, fiddling with the blankets, smoothing things down that were already smoothed down as he spoke.

John reached out and grab Gale's wrist, stilled it, in a odd reversal of their usual roles. "Okay, okay..." he acquiesced lightly, easily, and was immediately rewarded when Gale's fingers laced into the sweat-damp curls that had fallen down into his face, moving them aside so he could press a kiss to his forehead. His lips lingered for an achingly welcome half-beat, before moving to press another to his cheek.

Gale tore himself away then, grabbing his wallet, keys, and the steaming travel mug where he'd abandoned them on the dresser, and tossed his bag over his shoulder. A few second later, he was gone.

“Dr Gale Egan” is all John thinks about for the rest of the day.

In between naps, that is.

[nabaath-areng]

I don't know what you'd call it in english, but my village has this parish association that takes care of the local history in the area, hosting most events going on here etc, and for ages I've been wanting to help out with their digital photo archive. The stuff they post on their FB page is impossible to sort through, and the actual online archive is very barren and without any decent search function...

And I just got phone call informing me that I'll be handed responsibility for it!!! They were in need of help for several tasks including this one and so I'll be receiving all the digital files they have, meet with them to look over the physical stuff, and also get free reign over their online archive!!! No time limit, something I can do despite being unable to leave the house, AND I get to help to make it easier for everyone here to access the sheer amount of material that's been preserved!!!!! I'm so excited I almost don't know what to do with myself LOL

[inniave]

reminder to check your narcan/naloxone and make sure it’s not expired!

and get your hands on a new one if it is!

i don’t know what might happen to federal/state narcan program funding in the next administration so if you’ve been considering, now is the time to pull the trigger

[maroonangels]

so I was stalking Bryn’s bands Instagram. As one does. And ummmm I think I need to share with the class the pics I found

*falls over and dies*

[aq2003]

i think david did recognize something about his acting when he said he wasn't good at playing romantic leads but like. He is not actually correct he is really good at playing romantic leads (or at least romantic storylines). there just has to be something unconventional about it that he can also lean into. like benedick is equal parts romantic lead and funnyman. ten is aroace and also the most miserable wet cat alive. crowley is a cartoon character given human form

[montrosepretty]

It’s evil that you can get more writing ideas when you already have fifteen of them lined up. It should be a one in, one out system

[crystalpop]

FUCK ELON MUSK, he is an overgrown man child who throws a tantrum every time someone criticizes him or calls him out on shit. Just because people noticed and called you out for liking weird shit on your twitter account doesn’t mean you get to throw a tantrum and destroy twitter more than you already have by removing and hiding likes for everyone, wasn’t that already a feature/incentive for buying twitter blue???

By implementing this feature that NOBODY asked for he continues to make it harder and harder for artists and other creators to get the recognition and attention that their posts deserve. Half of the amazing artists that i have found and followed I found while looking through the likes on another artists account who draws/interacts with similar things and fandoms. Half the time I spent on twitter was looking through likes because i could find so many more people through their than the “for you page” and searching the tags. If he really wanted to fix and make twitter a better platform then he would have taken care of the spam and bot problems that have been a huge issue for way over two years now.

Along with that, how are we going to be able to make sure we are not following or liking accounts that support and like posts with n4zis, zoophilia, racism, homophobic/transphobic, loli shit, pedos, ect. I am now not able to make sure that i am not interacting with and supporting horrible people.

The only people who are truly supporting this update or are benefiting from it are either Elon bootlickers or creeps who are embarrassed or want to hide the weird shit that they like.

Eat shit and disappear Elon Musk🖕

[iamfitzwilliamdarcy]

decided not to go to church today :/

[all-hail-trudos]

Today @hauntedbyyarn and I officially joined the extraordinary eucharistic ministry team at our parish!

[whoredmode]

i’ve been replaying RE4 for like the millionth time and it reminded me of that zombie AU that i come back to every so often. wanted to do some more concepts for it.

the year is meant to be 2006, with the main gangs in stilwater still being the ones in sr1, but i still want characters from sr2 to make an appearance just to add more drama to the mix. so just imagine the time period is some combination of both those games. the plot is basically that during a gang fight, anteros gets shot critically and falls into a coma. he wakes up a few months later to the world having gone to shit. he initially meets with lin (who was undercover at the time and for now is just kinda stuck with the rollerz) and donnie who fill him in on what happened. after they get him situated, anteros ventures off on his own to find the saints. he heads to the police station first to see if there’s still weapons in the armory—where he encounters troy. after things went bad, troy was pulled out of his undercover case and forced back to the station, but things got so bad everyone else abandoned the place. troy’s just been holed up in there since. after some back and forth and some apologies from troy, the two head out to find others, eventually finding johnny and aisha. after some convincing, the four team up and continue on their quest to get the saints back. and just survive somehow.

[nikki-rook]

4x20 / 8x22

for the lovely @justellie-b

[nana-glass-chillhop-radio-hour]

Love how in the transcript it's even MORE clear that Carpenter is just prepared to start talking shit with Paige and Hayward immediately upon laying eyes on them. 'Oh yes! People I know and maybe kind of even like! Time to take them down a fucking peg >:) '