#Saint for the unemployed

[portraitsofsaints]

Saint Cajetan 1480-1547 Feast Day: August 7 Patronage: job seekers, the unemployed, workers, bankers, gamblers, Argentina, Italy

Saint Cajetan was born into a noble, Venetian (Italy), family. He studied law before he became a priest at 35. These were troubled times in the church with unscrupulous and uneducated priests and the start of the Protestant revolt. Instead of leaving the Church, he sought to reform it by forming a new order called the Congregation of Clerks Regular (Theatines). They established hospitals, lived in the spirit of monasticism and ministered to the poor and sick. He established a bank as an alternative to usury. (The Bank of Naples) The order made converts by their zeal and love for God and neighbor.

Prints, plaques & holy cards available for purchase here: (website)

[foursaints]

Dearest Saints,

Yesterday GOF movie was on and I conveniently tuned in just in time to see one Barty Crouch Jr tied up and bloody saying “i’ll show you mine if you show me yours” and then you lovely saints posted a lovely sleeping rk and Barty with a small key necklace. I always wear a small lock necklace, and now i’m convinced (sorry Evan) that me and Barty are in fact soulmates. As you are the authority I ask that you please send him my way, thank you.

Actually though all of the recent rk art is absolutely lovely I feel very spoiled so thank you!Your rk hcs/art are all so wonderful and it’s all so lovely, thank you very much <3!

the other day i had a moment watching doctor who where i very sincerely thought “something about the tenth doctor is so…… barty?” and i had no idea why but i was convinced i was on the cusp of a major breakthrough. because i forgot david tennant did that 😭 i love david so much that my brain physically cannot allow me to remember he was cast as bcj or i’ll start gnawing my own arm off

but yes you’ll receive him in your mailbox at your earliest convenience 🫡

[cruger2984]

THE DESCRIPTION OF SAINT CAJETAN Founder of the Theatine Fathers and Patron of Gamers Feast Day: August 7

"If you want Christ to love you and help you, you must love Him, and always make every endeavour to please Him. Do not waver in your purpose, because even if all the saints and every single creature were to abandon you, He will always be near you, no matter what your needs may be."

Are you losing your job during the pandemic? Are you always wasting your money because you're bad at banking? Are you losing some stuff due to pulling a better gacha? This priest and founder is the one who solve all of your problems. This is Cajetan, nicknamed the 'Hunter of Souls', and is well-known as the patron saint of the unemployed, bankers, and gamers.

He was born Gaetano dei Conti di Thiene, in Vicenza, Veneto, Republic of Venice (now in Italy) on October 1, 1480, and is the son of Gaspar, lord of Thiene, and Mary Porta, persons of the first rank among the nobility of the territory of Vicenza in the Veneto region. When Cajetan was two, his father died. Quiet and retiring in nature, he was predisposed to piety by his mother.

Having obtained a doctorate in law and receiving a degree as doctor utriusque juris (both civil and canon law) from the University of Padua at the age of 24, and he spent two years as a senator in his hometown. In 1506, he worked as a diplomat for Pope Julius II, with whom he helped reconcile the Republic of Venice. But he was not ordained a priest until 1516. With the death of Pope Julius II in 1513, Cajetan withdrew from the papal court. Unsatisfied by that kind of life, he pursued his vocation in Rome, where he was ordained in 1516. Recalled to Vicenza by the death of his mother he founded in 1522 a hospital for incurables there. His interests were as much or more devoted to spiritual healing than the physical kind, and he joined a confraternity in Rome called the 'Oratory of Divine Love'.

A new congregation was canonically erected by Pope Clement VII in the year 1524. One of his four companions was Giovanni Pietro Carafa, the bishop of Chieti, elected first superior of the order, who later became pope as Paul IV. From the name of the city of Chieti (Theate in Latin), arose the name by which the order is known, the 'Theatines', commonly known as the Congregation of Clerics Regular.

They were committed to teach catechism, to assist the poor, and reform the clergy. They were known as Theatines in honor of the bishop of Chieti who joined them.

The order grew at a fairly slow pace: there were only twelve Theatines during the sack of Rome in 1527, during which Cajetan was tortured by the Spanish soldiers of Charles V who had mutinied, and they managed to escape to Venice, where they opened new houses. There Cajetan met Jerome Emiliani, whom he assisted in the establishment of his Congregation of Clerks Regular (Somascan Fathers). In 1533, he founded a house in Naples. The year 1540, found him in Venice again and from there he extended his work to Verona. He founded a bank to help the poor and offer an alternative to usurers (who charged high interest rates), and it later became the Banco di Napoli.

The reason why Cajetan is the patron of gamblers is this story. His connection to gambling is obscure. Popular lore says the people would ask him for a favor, and bet him a rosary that he couldn't come through. Since he always came through, he was able to get people to pray more.

Worn out by his restless apostolate, St. Cajetan died peacefully on August 7, 1547 at the age of 66. Advised by his physician not to lie in a hardboard but on a mattress, he replied: 'My Savior died on a cross, allow me at least to die on wood.'

Cajetan is beatified by Pope Urban VIII in 1629 and canonized by Pope Clement X in 1671. The Jesuit missionary, Eusebio Kino, who in 1691, established the mission San Cayetano de Tumacácori in honor of Cajetan. It is now Tumacacori National Historical Park in Arizona.

[santaresistencia]

and i quit!!!! good riddance!!! 💗💖

[insidekaz]

Lost my job today for bullshit reasons

Just when I thought I was getting a hold of this adulting stuff too, just when I thought everything was starting to mellow out and I would be able to take it slow for a bit, reality really just had to slap me in the face like that, huh?

Let me back track a bit and start off with my usual greetings. Hello everyone, Kaz here. I'm just your local internet nobody who has big dreams but even bigger panic attacks on a daily basis. I'm the type of enby who spends most of their days working hard for someone else while fantasizing about working for myself. I have an update video I've been meaning to make, I have Twitch assets I've been meaning to finish, I have writing that I've been meaning to hop back on, and all of it has been placed on an immediate halt as of late.

(Okay Kaz, now you're just starting to sound dramatic...)

I'll cut the excess fat of the beef here. I got fired from my factory job today. "Why?" is probably what you're asking. Well, long story short, it's because of the big ol' UAW strike that's currently going on. It's affecting a lot of automotive companies, my former one included. Because of this, my last job decided to let go a lot of people, explaining it to me as an "extended lay off" until further notice, the cherry on that collapsing sundae being that I would be getting a call from H.R. sometime between the next few days to within the next two weeks on whether or not they'll be able to find a position for me. To anyone else, that sounds like a

Fantastic Extended Vacation From Work!

...but I know when to take a hint when it hits me. I admit, I may be oblivious to most things that happen around me, but this was a pretty blatant sign to file for unemployment and start job hunting. The most bullshit thing about the whole ordeal is that they decided to pull me aside and let me go a good 8 hours into my 10 hour shift, specifically doing it about five-ish minutes before my last break. I couldn't bring myself to call my partner to tell them the news, nor sit around for two hours and wait for them to come and pick me up, so I dragged my angry ass home on my own two feet, cursing that factory, the management, and the matter of the existence of the whole situation. The only curtesy they did for me was allowing me to using the front exit instead of the side exit so that no one had to basically watch me take the walk of shame.

Thus here I am, sitting at my computer, blogging my feelings away to a Tumblr blog that I'm happy no one sits down and reads. Trust me, there hasn't really been anything too interesting so far. I'm just some guy who complains about his life to anyone who's willing to listen. Even then, I still hold my complaints back. My partner was entirely understanding of the whole ordeal, so my fear of them leaving me because of this has quickly subsided, but I can't help but feel like I'm still an overall failure. I mean, sure, I didn't exactly enjoy the job, but I'd rather be doing something I hate for money than be doing nothing at all. It's currently 3 in the morning when I'm typing this. My partner is sleeping in the bedroom, so I'm probably gonna take the couch and try my best not to wake them up. Today, I rest. Tomorrow, I start job hunting. By Friday, I should either have landed a job or at least have an interview set up to start a new one. Let's just hope everything works out.

Here's what I'm listening to today. I listened to it on my way home from work, and it surprisingly lifted my spirits a bit. Still not sure what the lyrics mean, but now I have time to dissect them. I wish you all a good day, and a wish that you don't do anything stupid. If you do, at least name it after me, especially if it was stupid and cool.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"DELAY IN RELIEF WORKS PROTESTED," Montreal Star. August 4, 1933. Page 3. ---- A great deal of dissatisfaction is prevalent among the electors of St. Henri Ward with regard to relief works, Alderman Cote informed re- porters at the City Hall this morning. The electors there, he said, are growing tired of being continually promised work in a week or two, and never seeing the promises carried out.

There is an abundance of work in his ward, he said, which is urgently needed. Remedying the defects would probably give work to 1,000 men, and not more than about 25 per cent of the cost would go for material which, being mostly new piping and the like would indirectly also furnish work.

[skippyv20]

Our Group Prayer List🙏🏻❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

We pray for all those who are suffering from cancer.  We pray for all those who have passed away due to cancer.  We pray for their loved ones.  We pray for peace and comfort them.  We pray for cures for all cancers.

We pray for all the murdered children and babies.  We will pray for them….If they could not feel love in life….We want them to feel earthly love in heaven.  We pray for them.

All who have been victims of crime.  We do see you and we will pray for you.  We pray for you to recover from both emotional and physical scars.  We are so proud of you.  You keep moving forward, and we acknowledge the strength that takes.

All alcoholics and drug addicts.  We acknowledge your pain, your struggles.  We know the courage it takes to want to recover and too stay in recovery.  We acknowledge the guilt you take on, and we pray for you to have peace in your hearts.  We pray for your loved ones and friends, who have suffered along side of you.  We pray for them to have peace in their hearts. We pray to Saint Monica to intercede on your behalf.

We pray for all caregivers.  We acknowledge how tired you must be.  Taking care of loved ones is so difficult.  We acknowledge the sacrifices you make.   We admire your strength, and we pray for you to stay strong, and to feel peace in your heart.  We pray for God to lift the heaviness you at times feel.  We pray for your loved ones, to appreciate you, and to have patience with you.  We pray for you and your loved one.

We pray for all those that suffer from mental illness.  We pray for you to have peace in your heart and your mind.  We pray for you to have better days, and to have the strength and the courage to get through the day.  We pray for your mind to clear, and for the dark cloud to disappear.  We pray for your loved ones.  We pray for the patience and understanding you need to help you move forward.  

We pray for the missing.  We pray for them to be found.  We pray for the families and loved ones of the missing.  We pray for them to have strong faith.  We pray for missing, and pray they make it home no matter what the circumstances.  We pray for them if alive to be touched by God and for them to heal and be restored.  We pray if not alive, they are found and returned to their families for a proper burial.  

We pray for all those that are mourning the loss of their loved ones.  We pray for them to feel peace and comfort in their hearts.  We pray they feel God’s loving presence as they go through the grief process.  We pray that their tears are replaced with happy memories.  We pray they have easier days. 

We pray for all the mothers that are estranged from their child/children for whatever reasons.  We pray for them to find peace in their hearts.  We pray for them to stay strong in faith that they will reunite.  We pray for their memories to be of happier times, and sad times to fade away.  We pray for God to touch their hearts and lessen their pain.

We pray for all those who are in ICU.  We pray for them to feel God’s loving presence and for their healing.  We also pray for those who are losing their loved ones.  We pray for them to have strength and courage and to stay strong in faith.

Little Babies Heart Club (thank you for the name @sandiedog3

We pray for all the babies and children that suffer from illness.  We pray for God to wrap his loving arms around them, keep them safe and remove all pain from their little bodies.  We pray for each and every one to be healed and restored back to good health.  We pray for angels to stand beside them and protect them.  We pray for their little bodies to rebuild back to good health.  We pray for their families that carry the pain of their babies.  We pray for their faith to stay strong.

We pray for all those who struggle financially.  We pray for those who are unemployed to find employment.  We pray for them to be free of worries that weigh so heavily on their minds.  We pray for them to be guided to earth angels that will show them the right path.

We pray through Christ our Lord.🙏🏻❤️

[talesfrommedinastation]

My redneck neighbor Doug's interpretations on various 'Bad Batch' characters: Side Character Edition!

I'm chuffed that everyone thinks my neighbor Doug is funny: he really is a gem. I had no idea we'd bond over Star Wars and crappy weather, but here we are.

Naturally, I had to bother him about other characters that showed up on The Bad Batch, so, here we go!

Phee Genoa: Ah-ha, that there’s Church Lady. You know her, she’s got a big square in her pocketbook and you don’t know if it’s pound cake or a brick, because the Lord saves but He can’t help you in the alley when you’re in Treme and the streetlights just turned on. She has two ex-husbands who are both preachers and they turned to Jesus because they are so scared of Church Lady in court. 

(So I guess he’s saying Phee has raw WHO DAT energy, for my Saints fans out there)

Cid: Looking at this fat lizard bitch makes me hungry. I call that one Houma-BBQ because I’m guessing we could feed a whole parish fire station based on the size of her tail. I wish she’d shut up, she reminds me of my mother-in-law. 

Cad Bane: Homeboy looks like a Sesame Street character who teaches Big Bird about concealed carry laws. I call him Gun Safety Muppet. I don’t like him because he shot my Wife and I’s Boyfriend on the other show and his robot needs to be tossed into a wood chipper. 

(“I’m not gay, but Jenny and I…well, we would make an exception to that man. You ever see ‘Deadwood’? Man is fine. I’m not GAY.”)

Fennec Shand: That’s The Chick that’s in Everything. She was on ER and Boba Fett and I think a Marvel show too? I like her. Hope she kills Gun Safety Muppet and hurls his blue ass into a dumpster. 

Howzer: That’s my niece’s boyfriend, Jorge. We all love Jorge, nice guy, owns an auto repair shop and always remembers plates and napkins for the cookouts after church.

Gregor: Jorge’s cousin, Manny. Met him once at Christmas in Miami, nice guy, only drinks brown liquor and insists everyone arm wrestle him. But he’s got a good job as a PE teacher, we respect education, come on now. 

The Martez Sisters: Aw, man, it’s Jorge’s Unemployed Sisters. I hate it when they show up for Christmas and get into fights with my momma. 

(“Doug, you know they’re not related to the clones at all, right?” “Says who?” “The PLOT?” “Eh, they’ll change it, just watch.”)

Mayday: Aw, I liked this guy so much! That’s Sassy Park Ranger, he’s the type that gives you your camping permits, warns you about the bears, and then is all disappointed when you don’t properly stow your food and the bears destroy the campsite. I need to go back to Little River Canyon, that place was pretty. 

Lt. Nolan: THAT STUPID BLOND JACKASS. (Doug was so enraged by the guy he had nothing else to add. Damn.)

Senator Chuchi: Why does this lady make me want a blue slushie? I’ll call her the Sonic Special. They need more Sonics here in the north, they really do. 

Cody: That’s Obi-Wan’s Boyfriend, he’s sad all the time. We know why. (Confirmed that Doug is a Codywan shipper and I don’t know what to do about that)

Royce Hemlock: Is that Jimmy Neutron after he grew up and became one of those guys that’s on the internet all the time writing creepy things? It’s Jimmy-the-Scientist. He looks like the type of person dogs get weird around.

Rex: That's Rex. He's a king. Respect him.

[la-pheacienne]

I am going to be a killjoy and choose violence again but I did not like the spectacle of Marie Antoinette holding her decapitated head in her arms in the olympics, at all. I don't give a shit about Marie Antoinette the person, she was a traitor in the context of a war and she would rather betray France than give away her privileges. This is what happens to traitors in that context and she absolutely had it coming. I won't shed one tear for her, sorry if that bothers people.

However. The executions of the Terror are not something to make a spectacle of, they are not something to mock. They were an inevitability, a historical necessity yes, but they are not an esthetic, nor a pop culture reference. They were inevitable, even necessary because of the revolutionary context, because it was the people of France who demanded those executions, and when I say the people of France I mean the working class, the peasants, the sans culottes, people who lived in extreme poverty and misery. This was not just a civil war, this was a class war. Centuries of class inequality, oppression, hunger, injustice, needed a release and that release was inevitable, but the factors that led to it, the structural inequality, the privilege, the injustice, they are still relevant today. Those people, the people of France, did not ask for the king and queen's head so that, two centuries later, the political and economical elites of this world can sit comfortably in the seat they paid hundreds or even thousands of euros for, and mock and have fun watching Antoinette's decapitated head in a spectacle that cost around 300 millions, the same political and economical elites that are right now funding genocides, that are right now maximising their profit off the Olympics, that are right now destroying the welfare system and impoverishing the people of France, who are unemployed, homeless, and stuck in ghettos. But it's alright I guess, because we have democracy now so these people can still watch the spectacle in their TV (if they have a TV) from their 9 square meter apartment in Sarcelles or Seine-Saint-Denis that takes 80% of their salary. If they have an apartment. They must feel really lucky they don't have a king or queen anymore and all their problems are solved. What a fine mockery. I don't think the Jacobins would be impressed with this turn of events, I don't think that's why the french revolution happened because the french revolution is not an esthetic and the social struggles that led to it are still here, very much present.

I would advise people to leave Antoinette's head alone because she's dead and has been dead for 250 years. There are a lot of heads that are far too comfortable in their class privilege, right now, in 2024.

[bunny--manders]

Every bit of new information we get about these losers in canon makes it even funnier that they of all people are the guys who gave Igor the worst PTSD of his entire miserable life. Every supervillain in Saint Petersburg wishes they could traumatize Igor Grom half as bad as a couple of unemployed teachers who didn't even know him or have any particular preexisting beef with him.

[herejusttosufferalong]

ok I know people are really going on about this church A danced at but people really don’t seem to understand contract work. If she signed with evolve to be in the group of flamanco dancers as it appears from their posts. She probably has no choice where she goes and what she wears for that matter. If she breaks contract there repercussions other probably both monetarily and in reputation. We speculated that she’s probably also struggling to get gigs so being known as a contract breaker wouldn’t be good either. I think there are plenty of things to side eye her about but this one seems to be a reach. Everyone wants her to work but then she does and it’s side eye with no real thought to the situation. People make it seem like professional dancer means you work for Taylor or Beyonce when a lot more pros are doing the work A is. She has never been that high profile in that world as the news article portray or the fandom thinks.

yeah, i'm tired of hearing about the church

who tf cares...

everyone is acting like a fuckin saint about it but they would probably be right alongside her cosplaying as some lettuce if they were unemployed

[seat-safety-switch]

Friends, have you heard of a guy with some crazy ideas, hung out with prostitutes, sacrificed himself to save us? His name is Soichiro Honda. Do you have a minute to speak about his miracles?

Once, a long time ago, there were no cars. And then there were cars, and they were terrible. So Soichiro, he built motorcycles. Those motorcycles were pretty good. He spoke of die-cast engines, and the unbelievers unbelieved. He trained the poor and unemployed to make those dies, and they did. Soichiro looked upon his race motorcycles, and he saw that they were good.

The betrayers in the government, though, they wouldn’t let Soichiro Honda make a car. There were enough cars already, even though they were terrible. He kept the faith, defeated the government through the power of popular protest, and then there were cars. Soichiro looked upon the mid-engined, chain-drive pickup trucks, and he saw that they, too, were good.

Once, there was a young man with a dream. That dream was the Honda Civic. Soichiro Honda, although perfect, was not generous. He did not believe in the young man’s dream. He would not waste money on this ridiculous dream of a water-cooled engine, knowing that water was pure and too good to be wasted on any internal combustion less than the greatest available. The young man persisted. The Honda Civic was invented. Soichiro Honda knew that it would be good, and it was.

Perhaps you have heard of the greatest of all Honda works, the S2000? It is said that for a saint to exist, he or she must do a great work after their death. This, then, is Saint Honda’s greatest work. A monument to his vision, and his eternal forgiveness for humanity, even after many sinners have rejected him in favour of the traitor Toyota. Praise be to the VTEC, and may we leave you with some literature, a magazine we call Sport Compact Car?

[white-collar-cannibal]

every gay friend group has the former child actor experiencing the very real symptoms of being a former child actor, a man in love with something that has been dead longer than he has lived, a girl on a white whale style quest to never be vulnerable again, a man shaking like a chihuahua in his doc martens, an unemployed mfer serving cunt at 11 am on a thursday, a guy who unironically wears cargo pants, two people with a wildly ambiguous bert and ernie vibe, and a they/them carrying their severed head around like a cephalophore saint

[portraitsofsaints]

St. Cajetan 1480-1547 Feast Day: August 7 Patronage: job seekers, the unemployed, workers, bankers, gamblers, Argentina, Italy

Saint Cajetan was born into a noble, Venetian (Italy), family. He studied law before he became a priest at 35. These were troubled times in the church with unscrupulous and uneducated priests and the start of the Protestant revolt. Instead of leaving the Church, he sought to reform it by forming a new order called the Congregation of Clerks Regular (Theatines). They established hospitals, lived in the spirit of monasticism and ministered to the poor and sick. He established a bank as an alternative to usury. (The Bank of Naples) The order made converts by their zeal and love for God and neighbor.

Prints, plaques & holy cards available for purchase here: (website)

[tinyshe]

Glorious Saint Joseph,

pattern of all who are devoted to toil,

obtain for me the grace to toil in the spirit of penance,

in order thereby to atone for my many sins;

to toil conscientiously,  

putting devotion to duty before my own inclinations;

to labour with thankfulness and joy,

deeming it an honour to employ and to develop,

by my labour, the gifts that I have received from Almighty God;  

to work with order, peace, moderation, and patience,

without ever shrinking from weariness and difficulties;

to work above all with a pure intention

and with detachment from self,  

having always before my eyes the hour of death

and the accounting which I must then render of time ill-spent,

of talents unemployed, of good undone,

and of my empty pride in success,

which is so fatal to the work of God.  

All for Jesus, all through Mary,

all in imitation of thee, O Patriarch Joseph!

This shall be my motto in life and in death.

Amen.

[reincrimination]

stay the course: ch. 1 | buddie

9-1-1 | eddie diaz x evan buckley

a buddie equestrian AU

cw: none!

you are here! -> chapter 2

read on archive of our own!

“That was Taylor Kelly and Smile for the Camera given the all-clear by the vets,” says the announcer, a thick British accent immediately distinguishable. “Next up is- well, I’d say infamous, but that would imply that people like him. Next up is Evan Buckley- or Buck, as he requests we all call him- and his French-bred mount Saint Francis.” Eddie finally feels a little less stranded when he sees the similarly-young face of- uh, Buck?- jog down the path. Clad in gray plaid pants and a black sweater, the young man looks like a panther next to his tall, lanky white horse. The black of the horse’s bridle is the only thing that matches Buck, the rest a stark contrast. Buck may be under-dressed by comparison to the other riders, but the gleaming white-grey of his horse’s coat is near blinding. Its’ mane is tacked up into bobbles atop its neck, so tight they look like they hurt, and its tail is whiter than chalk and flouncing like a waterfall as they parade down the path. Eddie knows nothing about horses but he can tell that this is a proud one by the way he picks up his knees and flags his tail at the end of his jog.

Eddie knows why his father wanted to get into the equestrian world- fame. Everything Ramon Diaz does is for fame, after all, but Eddie had clearly missed the memo on just how pompous the higher levels of the equestrian world was. Though, Eddie had missed the memo on just about everything equestrian, not even having ever seen a horse beyond trips to the racetrack with his father in years prior. His father’s tastes had evolved from betting on racehorses, and now, a decade and Eddie’s own failed marriage later, he’s accompanying his father on a cross-continential trip to the 2024 Badminton Horse Trials in London, England.

Although the one-on-one time with his father should be enough to make Eddie want to pull his hair out (but not too much, lest the press catch wind of a bald spot), he would have been ridiculous to pass up an all-expenses paid trip to the Badminton trials as a VIP spectator. At least, that’s what he tells himself, which is easier than admitting the fact that he really did not have a choice in whether or not he attended.

Since his divorce, he had moved back in with his family for the sake of his son, Chris, who he has full custody of. As much as he loves his son, he can’t raise him on his own, especially since he had been working as a firefighter prior to the divorce. He had carved out a life for himself, far away from his father, where the only things that mattered were his son, his wife, and his job, in that order, too. However, with Shannon in the wind, Eddie had to put his own wants on hold (as always) and realize that being a single father in Los Angeles with a special needs son was not plausible, even on a firefighter’s not-scanty salary.

So, he’d eaten his pride and obliged his father’s request for him and Christopher to move back in with their family in El Paso, Texas. It had only been a few weeks since they’d been back, and Eddie was- well, he wasn’t really sure what was next. His father was supporting him and Chris financially, so he had time to figure out what he wanted to do. However, that meant he owed a substantial debt to his father- figuratively, of course, as he could never financially repay any sum considering he is now unemployed- and so what his father says tends to go, now. That’s how Eddie had found himself saying farewell to Christopher, set up for a week at his Abuela’s house, and getting on a flight to London.

Regardless, he had touched down in London some hours ago, and now he is nursing an icy cold mixed drink in one hand while he stares down a packed dirt fence lined with white fences and elaborate floral arrangements. On one side, the sandy expense of the show jumping arena stretches, untrodden thus far and glistening in the rare England sunlight. On the other side of the path, rows of spectators and press line the plastic blue chairs for as far as Eddie can see.

A perk of his father’s status as an owner of one of the competing horses means that Eddie, too, is afforded VIP status, and as such, stands just behind one of those white fences, with an uninterrupted view of the dirt path. Towards the other set of spectator bleachers, the announcer’s box and the in-gate lie, whereabouts tens of pairs of horses and handlers are milling.

Now, if Eddie had thought his father wearing a three-piece name-brand suit to the- what’s it called again? The inspection?- was excessive, then he really needed to keep his mouth shut about the others here. There was not a pair of were in sight, and each handler’s outfit was at least as expensive as their horse, and they are not cheap horses. 

The hum of conversation is loud, the excitable energy high in the air as the announcer begins his commentary of what he began to call “the jog”. 

Eddie quickly realizes why it is called “the jog” when a horse-and-handler pair does just that, along the entire length of the packed dirt track, leaving the first of at least fifty pairs of hoofprints that the soil would see today.

Eddie barely knows where to look, so far out of his depth he may as well be swimming in the ocean during a storm. Is he supposed to know who the brunette woman is, running alongside an absolutely giant brown horse? The horse has an attitude, Eddie notices, as it tosses its large head in excitement as its handler leads it off the end of the path at the conclusion of their jog.

His father nudges him in the upper arm, jostling his sweating drink and almost sending the caramel droplets onto his cream sweater, a mistake that would be problematic for such a highly-publicized event. As Eddie leans in to hear whatever his father had to say, he makes eye contact with a camera that’s panning the length of the arena. Despite having grown up in the spotlight, Eddie had never quite gotten used to the cold, gaping eye of a camera lens.

“There they are,” the elder Diaz says, before beginning to clap loudly for the next pair heading down the path.

A lighter, richer-colored brown horse and a red-headed woman make their way down the path. The woman is wearing a red pantsuit that Eddie thinks could cover all of Chris’s college tuition. “Taylor Kelly,” Ramon says. “Remember that name. She’s ours.”

Ah. The whole reason Eddie and his father are in London to begin with: his father had used his seemingly-endlessly-multiplying millions to sponsor a horse and rider team. The sponsorship was apparently a big deal, as Kelly usually rides for herself and team USA, not needing a sponsor, but the undisclosed sum that Eddie’s father had negotiated with her family had been enough to get a pin of the Diaz company logo onto the lapel of her expensive suit. Now, Taylor Kelly was riding for the Diazes as much as they are riding for team USA, though the elder Diaz would consider them to be one and the same.

The hand not being used to hold Eddie’s drink is suddenly grasped by his father’s cold fingers, and a black ear-piece is pressed into his palm. He wiggles it into his ear and it crackles to life, the previously muffled voice of the announcer now coming through loud and clear as the next pair approach the path.

“That was Taylor Kelly and Smile for the Camera given the all-clear by the vets,” says the announcer, a thick British accent immediately distinguishable. “Next up is- well, I’d say infamous, but that would imply that people like him. Next up is Evan Buckley- or Buck, as he requests we all call him- and his French-bred mount Saint Francis.”

Eddie finally feels a little less stranded when he sees the similarly-young face of- uh, Buck?- jog down the path. Clad in gray plaid pants and a black sweater, the young man looks like a panther next to his tall, lanky white horse. The black of the horse’s bridle is the only thing that matches Buck, the rest a stark contrast. 

Buck may be under-dressed by comparison to the other riders, but the gleaming white-grey of his horse’s coat is near blinding. Its’ mane is tacked up into bobbles atop its neck, so tight they look like they hurt, and its tail is whiter than chalk and flouncing like a waterfall as they parade down the path. Eddie knows nothing about horses but he can tell that this is a proud one by the way he picks up his knees and flags his tail at the end of his jog. 

Before he and Buck exit the path, the horse nudges Buck’s shoulder with his pink and white nose. Buck gives his companion a rueful smile in response, but thats all. He seems a bit subdued compared to the other handlers, less comfortable on camera, maybe- which Eddie could definitely relate to. 

“I can’t say it’s unusual for the horse to outdo the rider in terms of notability, but normally it’s a closer competition than it is here. Regardless, Buck and Saint Florian are clear for the Badminton trials.” They’re graced with a courteous bit of scattered applause, before they brush right past the Diazes and emerge out into the arena, where horses, riders, and grooms of all countries seem to be mingling. Eddie watches Buck go, the blonde hair atop his head an unusual sight compared to a sea of brunette, gray, or raven-haired riders- not counting Taylor Kelly’s bright red hair, which was also an outlier.

As Eddie watches, a pair of brown horses nudge at each other’s withers in what seems to be a friendly manner, considering how their owners gush, and someone snaps a photo.

“Disgrace he is, that ‘Buck’ boy,” Ramon tsks, leaving Eddie no time to ask questions before the announcer booms out the names of the next pair. Freddie Costas and his horse Rigged to Blow make their way through the jog. “Now that’s a fine looking rider, is he not?”

Clad in a dark green coat and white pants, the rider makes his way out into the arena with an all-clear from the vets, as well. While most other riders are still mingling with other members of their team, Eddie can’t help but notice how Buck does not mingle, but rather, has begun to make his way out of sight and back to what Eddie assumes would be the stables. Eddie turns around enough to watch the boy recede, his white horse walking gracefully beside him. However, before he ducks out of view, Freddie Costas catches up, and the pair exchange an amicable handshake before they both depart.

Ramon and the announcer both seem to be a bit less fond of Buck than Eddie finds himself beginning to be. Why he’s taken a liking to the boy after a five minute appearance is a mystery, and, he realizes, probably just another unconscious rebellion against his father. Despite that, at the end of the arduously-long inspection of eighty-seven horses, Eddie has to admit that Buck is still his favorite of the group.

That admission earns a hearty chuckle from his father, and a firm clap on the back that is as much a warning as it is a fatherly gesture for the cameras. “Funny one, you are,” Ramon grits out, before giving a friendly wave to the sea of reporters and ushering Eddie in their direction.

Like a good son, Eddie stands stoic and handsome for the cameras, flashing a smile at whatever reporter snaps a photo of him and his famous father together. His hand is damp from the condensation of his drink, and when the cameras aren’t looking, he quickly downs the rest of it before handing the cup to a waiter who was weaving through the crowd with a tray balanced on one hand.

The sun is just about heading for the horizon, the tops of trees and hills visible over the edge of the tall rows of bleachers. An orange glow was beginning to bathe the arena, and photographers took advantage of the lighting to snap some more photos of the horses and riders. While his father talks to a reporter from Horse & Country about his hopes for Taylor Kelly this week, Eddie lets his eyes drift over the crowd. It’s slowly dispersing as the post-jog interviews conclude, most of the big names from Britain, the USA, Canada, Germany, and the Netherlands having already left. The other countries seem to have fewer spectators in London this week. As Eddie watches, a pair of British riders take their horses down towards the stables to the tune of enthusiastic applause from the strong local contingent here at Badminton.

Team USA seems to have gathered in the arena for a photo opportunity, and some words with reporters, but that blonde hair Eddie is looking for is absent. He’s so engrossed in the search, watching who he thinks is a groom quickly fix the braids of one of the horses, that he startles when his father pats him on the shoulder.

“Come on, I have someone for you to say hello to,” his father says with a nod. Eddie steels himself, straightening his posture as he and his father pick their way through the crowd and out towards the expansive area of the in-gate.

Eddie smiles when he sees who, exactly, his father was taking him to see. The Hans, a respectable looking family who look very comfortable amidst the horses passing on either side of them, spot the Diazes and wave. He and the Hans’ son, a slightly older man who goes by Chimney, had been childhood friends. They had spent many an afternoon sat on a boring golf course with Chim, talking about everything other than what their families had been up to while their fathers had golfed together.

Chimney looks relieved to see Eddie as well, sporting a grin as he extends a hand to him. Eddie takes his hand for a brief, formal shake before using it to pull Chim into a hug, clapping him on the back as the other man laughs.

“So glad to see you,” Eddie says, and to his father it sounds like a regular greeting, but Chimney knows that it’s more of a “Thank God you’re here”. The other man gets the message and gives Eddie’s shoulder a squeeze before they separate.

Eddie gives both of Chimney’s parents a handshake and an awkward nod before his father claps his hands proudly and announces, “We’ll be joining the Hans for dinner with their rider tonight.”

“Your rider?” Eddie raises his eyebrows, looking to Chim for confirmation, who wiggles his own brows in excitement.

“Oh, I think you’ll like him.”