#and deacon is indeed in love with him

[dxsole]

🌎 SIDE MUSE | Madhu Kumar

Character Relation: Deacon's employer and criminal mastermind.

It was never Madhu's intention to test Decaon's faith. In the early years of his grand plan, he needed dependable people around him. Individuals that could be led, that could keep their mouths shut, and, more importantly, could handle guns as needed.

Because Madhu is not a hands-on sort of criminal. Blood turns his stomach and corpses make him gag— thankfully, he had found someone in the same town as his new headquarters who knew their way around loaded buckshot without a military or law enforcement background.

See, he would never trust his operation with anyone who's seen both sides of the coin and thought they were actually doing something for the greater good. Nor would he trust the pessimistic former cop or soldier who just wanted to rail against the establishment. No, he needed a third-party observer. A completely unbiased person to fight the good fight with—

No one could be better than a man of God.

Even if Madhu's master plan involved a myriad of sins all rolled into one; a cleanse, if you will. He markets it as the eventual result of mankind's folly— the world will heal itself with or without us and it had more than enough power to destroy them all. So why not destroy it first? Send the masses into chaos until the population thins, the world's on fire, and, eventually she'll rise from the man-made apocalypse, reborn.

It's an absurd idea, but one that can be preached to those who already believe in the end of the world.

And Madhu's part in all this? Well, he owns the farms and can sabotage those he doesn't, creating scarcity. He owns several manufacturers, including an ammunition factory, so he'll cause conflict worldwide. He's put so much dirty money into medical research and he'll bring back the plagues of old...for the profits.

If you're going to play God, you might as well get paid well, no?

So Deacon is his right hand, a stoic, looming henchman of all henchmen, escorting him from town to town, city to city to see how it could be utilized, running the odd job that needed a heavier hand, and, of course, keeping Madhu safe at all times.

[gothicbeastgirl]

I know we are thinking about the same scene and screaming and barking and all, I KNOW, but I want to talk about THIS✨

Buddy's body language

They say that men tend to make physical contact while trying to seduce someone they like, while women are more discreet by touching their hair or with looks. Buddy is ALWAYS touching him, even when they were "enemies".

Also they tend to bend over, and we saw Buddy bending to Chase like a lot of times.

They usually stay close. No more questions, your honor.

"Surprise expressions". Sometimes we show surprise when we talk with the other person, but it's unconcious, you don't know but the surprise bc of the attraction is there (I find this one very cute indeed). Maybe Buddy is surprised about Chase's stupidity (sometimes), but I love his surprise expressions 😂

And the most important: the feet. They are pointing to Chase, this usually means interest, and I know Buddy is starting to have interest in Chase, like a REAL interest for him.

He's still crossing his arms, he's trying to protect himself, I know he's starting to rely on Chase (and I'm not going to blame him for that). Also, Buddy is frustrated about Chase decision of help Deacon bc he is ill and he is worried for him.

These are contradictorious expressions of Buddy's body but at the same time they make sense together and by the rythm of the story I can see he is lesving behind some behaviors and adopting new ones since he is trying to know Chase better and maybe (since beach arc) he is attracted to him, even if he doesn't know yet 😂

[karabell]

Some random Cinderella Boy headcannons

Chases love langauge is gift giving. He counts his looks and voice as gifts

Most of the boy band’s singers that Chase listens to are Tenors, meanwhile despite his looks, Chase is actually a Baritone. For most of the songs he sings, his voice is mediocre at best because his voice is literally not built for that. However, put on some jazz and he’ll nail it.

(I also believe that his talking voice is at the higher end of his register)

Buddy like shiny things. He is a magpie (just like Chase)

Chase has totally considered writing a hate song to Buddy and performing it to him

Buddy doesn’t like looking in mirrors much while in the stories (no real reason for this, it just feels right)

Chase has thrown darts at a scribbled drawing of Buddy

Chase has attempted to get the Buddy eyeliner look before. He has failed

Buddy is the type of person to get a sunburn after being outside for any more than 30 seconds

Buddy tends to think about new insults to throw at Chase in his free time

Buddy was indeed jealous that Chase had a fancy outfit that one time, and felt that the only way to get a leg up on their arguments was to constantly have a better outfit than Chase

Buddy sometimes finds himself humming some of Chases random boy band music after hearing him sing it so much. He has caught himself a few times, and it ticks him off more each time

Deacon, at some point, really enjoyed studying and learning. This passion has since died once his parents started to become overbearing

Chase may not be the brightest, but he is actually pretty good at talking his way out of situations if he needs to. He has managed to talk his way into getting some story hints out of Buddy a few times

Buddy is part cat (the evidence is irrefutable)

Buddys natural hair is quite wavy and kinda curly, but he always keeps it straightened (for intimidation purposes)

Chase is fully capable of throwing a person twice his size over his shoulder (he stronk)

Chases dad used to play classical guitar, and Chase wanted to learn like his father did so he could play for his mother when she got better

[that-blue-vault-dweller]

speaking of brave!

companions react to finding some horses? i dunno it seems neat!

A/N: Gosh, I wish we had horses in-game. It would be literally epic 😫 It'd be like Fallout 4 met RDR2 and that would be heaven for me 😍

I hope y'all enjoy this react!! Thank you for the request! 💙

Cait - Is wary at first, but once F!Sole tames and wrangles one for her and she realizes it can facilitate her running into battle and making swift attacks, she is all for it. F!Sole teaches her to ride and she ends up loving it, blazing into gun fights with a sawed-off shotgun in one hand and her reins in the other.

Curie - Does not really want to ride it, but she is exceedingly excited about the fact that this is a new specimen for her to examine. She starts on her research immediately, and she is the one that has the idea to experiment in breeding the optimum horses. Naturally, her project ends up attracting the attention of multiple important factions in the Commonwealth.

Piper - Is honestly super excited about it once her Blue shows that it's possible to train them and ride them. She immediately finds one that she names Harper, and she loves traveling the Commonwealth via horseback with F!Sole and her horse. However, they're not super big fans back in Diamond City, and they end up making her keep her horse outside of the city because horse manure has a suspicious way of showing up at the homes of people that Piper doesn't like.

MacCready - Is at first scared of them. Honestly, he stays a little afraid of them even after F!Sole starts breaking them. He prefers to have full control over where he's going and giving part of the control over to an animal that could kill him is a little scary. After he rides a few times, he overcomes the fear and actually likes it, but he has to have the most tame, docile horse that F!Sole breaks.

Deacon - Thinks they're cool, but still prefers to travel on the ground. However, when he gets the idea to pop a Stealth Boy while sitting on the horse's back, he has to try it. When somehow only known to the powers that be and Deacon that it works, Deacon can be found mysteriously appearing all over the Commonwealth with his pompadour riding a palomino.

Codsworth - Thinks that it's quite dandy to have a horse! He knew that Mum and Sir could never have one in their old home but it is good to see Mum having the opportunity to enjoy equine companionship now after the war. It is also quite a breathtaking sight to see the horses running across the Commonwealth. It would bring a tear to his eye if he were human.

Hancock - Cannot deny the rush of giddiness he feels when he sees them. He's always dreamed of riding a white horse around Goodneighbor and the Commonwealth. It fits well with his patriotic self-image. As soon as they find a white horse, he instantly claims it. However, trying to break the wild-spirited thing proves to be a true challenge indeed.

Danse - Is honestly intrigued after he finds that they are not some sort of threat. If it's Pre-BB, he wants to share the discovery with the Brotherhood in order to facilitate ground travel. However, if it's Post-BB, he ends up growing extremely invested in helping to care for them and train them with F!Sole. He ends up strangely really taking to rancher life.

Preston - Is very interested and excited. Similarly to Curie, he wants to try to breed them, but his motivation is to supply the Minutemen. With Curie's impeccable science in breeding the best traits in the horses that F!Sole finds, within the next several years, the Minutemen are supplied with the best mounts to patrol the Commonwealth.

Valentine - Finds it nostalgic in that Nick sort of way. He thinks that it's a good idea to use them for riding and breeding, but he also thinks it's nice to have wild ones riding across the Commonwealth. It adds a charmingly Western feel to things with the untamed steeds racing throughout the wilderness and through what remains of a life gone by.

X6-88 - Insists that they are unreliable and untrustworthy when it comes to riding them or anything else. They are too large and too skittish. However, deep within himself, he tries desperately to crush the strange desire to ride one. When F!Sole offers him a black one with a white star on its head, practically forcing X6-88 on its back, he tries to deny the happy feeling within himself. However, it becomes hard to find him at a time when he's not on his horse after that.

Dogmeat - Chases them when he first sees them. However, when F!Sole scolds him, he stops, realizing that these animals must not be for chasing. But if they're not for chasing, then why do they run?! He ends up befriending the ones that F!Sole brings to her self-built breeding farm that she plans and creates with Curie, and he believes that maybe they're big, giant dogs.

Strong - Immediately wants to eat it, having never tried horse meat. However, when he finds out that they are for riding and traveling with, he does not like it. Feet are for traveling. Animals are not for traveling.

ADA - Thinks it's a wonderful find especially since it will make travel easier for her human mistress. However, F!Sole soon realizes she needs to invest in some assaultron legs for ADA so she can actually keep up...

[berrypass-de-murdler]

63. The Body in the Snowdrift

So it's snowing now? It wasn't snowing last episode Eh whatever idk when this takes place

4 more days until my existaversary but that doesn't have anything to do with the episode

I am becoming S T R E S S

DON'T READ THE EPISODES UNTIL YOU'VE FINISHED THE FIRST BOOK!!

Logico gets a letter in the mail from Brownstone.

“Hello Deductive Logico. 

Maybe we got off on the wrong foot. Dammit! That sounds suspicious. Regardless, I need your help - a lot. I need to talk to you about something of grave importance. Please, come to the monastery, I’m begging you. I don’t want to murder you…”

Would you trust that letter? Logico does. He goes there. And speaking of GRAVE importance, someone’s dead! And it’s BROWNSTONE, A NAMED CHARACTER??? Good thing we weren’t attached to him.

There’s the whole church gang. Mango, Verdigris, Lapis, and… Brownstone’s brother Brownstone. Identical twin, of course. He even has the broken antler on the same side. This is really weird...

BROWNSTONE: ‘Sup. I don’t work here, just wanted to see my bro. [casually points to the corpse] MANGO: They caught me for my crimes, and now I am stuck here in the smol church. [wails] 

Lapis is screaming her head off… just because. Mango is drowning his sorrows in wine.

MANGO: OHM YUM, I INDEED DO LOVE WINE!!! [inhales]

Verdigris is singing [kill me now].

VERDIGRIS: MIIIIIIIINE, OUTSIIIIIII-I-IIIIII-IDE!

The big problem is that she’s GOOD. You know who isn’t good though, are the monks that Brownstone 2 is listening to. 

MONKS: LA LA LA LA LA LOOO, LA LA LA LA LA LOOO, AAAA, AA, AAA

One of them sounds kinda good… the rest of them are shit.

GOOD MONK: A HOLY RED STAIN IS ON THE FORBIDDEN BOOOOOOOKS… BAD MONKS: YOU SACRED FOOL, THAT WASN’T A LIIIIIINE

LOGICO: I could listen to you sing all day… MONKS: THANK YOU.

They all start belting again, and Logi leaves. 

The killer was the UNmasked singer!

VERDIGRIS: [tears in her eyes] The parishioner that Brother Brownstone killed a while ago was my father… and I was bound, by blood, to defend him! 

Brownstone 2 is listening to this. Logico bets that he’s gonna murder her soon.

LOGICO: Goodbye, Deacon Verdigris. VERDIGRIS: WHAT?? BROWNSTONE: My bro had this. You should probably read it, ‘cuz it’s for you.

He hands Logi a note. It says…

“The answer to your questions is not found in the future, but the past.”

Logico doesn’t care. He wanders by the awful singing monks again and stares up at the ‘good’ one, whose voice made him feel something. It looks up at him slightly, and Logico sees FAMILIAR SHADES AND HAT UNDERNEATH THE HOOD-

LOGICO: [outrageous feminine scream]

The end!

Look at this silli bunch

I love fucking around on gacha with all my little murdlers. Can you name everyone in this picture?

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!

[sassenashsworld]

“The little synthetics is in love?” Deacon wonders.

“Synthetic Detective to you, friend. And no, not like that. Lover of beauty, lover of art, lover of what is worth admiring. I admire Nora, I admire her presence…”

«He especially admires her performance»

And Handcock backs it up with an obscene gesture and sound of mouth. I put my own hat on my head. It’s a waste. We might as well stop trying to make them see reason, especially after two hours at the bar. Deacon frowns at the ghoul. He’s a comedian in his spare time, but not a fool. He gives me a knowing glance.

“I understand you. And this boor is an abomination by his insinuations even more than his nature."

"Watch out Danse didn't hear you and want to start a Fanclub."

Deacon just ignore him.

"Nora is a marvel and you can’t think of her in such low praise. I’ve watched her for a while, everything she does is so— artistic, indeed. Superhuman, incredible and worthy of the most epic stories we hear about her. To think of tumbling her must be worth a ticket to nonstop hell.”

[angeltreasure]

I have a few questions from one Catholic to another!

What are your thoughts on Pope Francis? A lot of people call him the false prophet and I was wondering if you agree or disagree with that statement.

What are some Catholic traditions that people forget about?

What is a common Catholic misconception that you are tired of and why? For me, it is the stereotype that we worship the Virgin Mary.

What is your favorite prayer 🙏 as a Catholic?

What is a prayer to rebuke demonic energy?

What are your thoughts of zodiac signs? I don’t like them at all.

Jesus loves you! Please pray for my Grandpa. He has cancer.

Good morning. Thanks for stopping by! Here we go:

1. I believe in the Catholic Church’s Magisterium and unbroken apostolic succession that our priests, deacons, bishops, cardinals, and Pope etc are all part of a lineage leading back to the Apostles and Jesus Christ, the Son of God, a linage of laying of the hands which is found in the Bible. Not every word that our Holy Father speaks is done in papal infallibility. In other words, I don’t have to agree with every single word he speaks on some topics or actions he does outside of papal infallibility, but I recognize and respect that he really is our current Pope.

2. A lot of Catholic traditions come from each individual country so my answer may be different than if you ask someone else. I can think of these: praying the Angelus, saying the St. Michael prayer at the end of the Mass, saying the St. Michael prayer at the end of the Rosary, some people don’t bother to fast before the Holy Mass, going around visiting all the Catholic Churches in your area and stopping inside to say a prayer…

3. A common Catholic misconception indeed is that we worship Mary. That’s probably the most common one. Another one is that we aren’t Christians at all but pagan and that we pray to dead people.

4. It’s really hard to pick a favorite prayer! I think mine is the St. Michael prayer because I’ve really needed his intercession growing up—- still do!

5. If you want to know the proper deliverance prayers we are allowed to pray as Catholic laity I highly suggest purchasing this book by Fr. Chad Ripperger… Deliverance Prayers: For Use by the Laity. Do not attempt to use the one made for priests because Satan and the demons will know if you did.

6. What I think of zodiac signs?

2116 All forms of divination are to be rejected: recourse to Satan or demons, conjuring up the dead or other practices falsely supposed to "unveil" the future. Consulting horoscopes, astrology, palm reading, interpretation of omens and lots, the phenomena of clairvoyance, and recourse to mediums all conceal a desire for power over time, history, and, in the last analysis, other human beings, as well as a wish to conciliate hidden powers. They contradict the honor, respect, and loving fear that we owe to God alone.

- #2116, Catechism of the Catholic Church, second edition.

7. I love Jesus so much. Remember He loves you too. I will certainly pray for your grandpa!

[proserpinewrites]

In my fic, Deacon's birth name is Lil' Beckett. It's inspired by similarities someone pointed out between him and Beckett (FO76). Both are comedians in sunglasses with anti-chem and pro-alcohol attitudes who terminated their gang memberships by terminating the gang, and you know what they say: A nuke a day keeps the smooth skin away! If 76's vaultie is brutally killed by the Blood Eagles after helping their (optional) boyfriend dismantle them, they could easily be the basis for Barbara's story.

I'll be real with you, I only play Fallout 76 but rarely. I'm mainly there for the Mothman content. I don't know enough FO76 lore to play around with it. (Yet. I dunno, I don't really enjoy multiplayer anything.)

One thing I have a love/hate relationship with in Bethesda games is the open spaces they leave in characterization. On one hand, lots of space to headcanon. On the other, sometimes those spaces echo so much that they drown out the actual character. (/cough like poor Harkness) So I think anyone can and should decide for themselves what Deacon's birth name is.

The word/name Deacon, that comes from the Greek word diákonos, meaning servant or messenger. Either way, it signals to me that he's dedicated his existence to serving the Railroad and its cause to the end of the line. It's also interesting to me that deacons cannot hear confession and give absolution, anoint the sick, or celebrate mass, all things that give priests a sort of sanctity within the Catholic tradition. It's a very precise box he's drawn around himself, if you think about it. He can help, he can guide, but he doesn't feel worthy of anything beyond that. He believes that his true self is not worthy of emulation, not worthy of admission into the Railroad itself, and so Deacon fits him very well indeed.

I chose Jonah because it means 'dove', a symbol of peace. Deacon's peace ended and he shed that name, swapped it for something else (Johnny D. for John Doe) signifying his (perceived) worthlessness and lack of identity after what happened to him. And because of the story of Jonah in the Bible, which honestly I only knew bits and pieces of before I read it recently. At its base it's a story of compassion, forgiveness, and redemption. and Deacon's journey throughout 'you who wish to conquer pain' is going to be full of both things, though maybe not in ways he might expect.

[obscene-beans]

WIP Wednesday

tagged by @totally-not-deacon thank you :') I'm not sure who I'm following that does these so I did a lil research and I nominate @evilwriter37, @your-talos-is-problematic, and @friend-of-giants (sorry if this is not your thing, I'm new to this!)

Currently working on an ongoing novel that focuses on autism, war, and folk music, with a little supernatural fantasy and a steampunk element thrown into the mix. CW for descriptions of a meltdown, emotional and physical trauma, and You Are My Sunshine (lol). I like just wrote this.

I looked at the kid in my arms. His face was red and splotchy, snot running over his lips and chin. He was looking around between the four of us. “You’re looking for your parents, aren’t you?” I asked him.

He didn’t respond, of course, but that made it all the more easier to talk to him. “You’re not the only one, kiddo. I haven’t seen my Da in years. You’ll get used to it.”

The baby looked up at me. He’d stopped crying and instead was focusing on my voice. I paused, because I didn’t know what else to say, and his face crumpled at the silence. I felt my face crumple, too.

As he began to whimper again, I thought of Edet, bleeding, curled in the arms of a stranger. Then I thought of our father.

I opened my mouth and began to sing.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are gray

You’ll never know dear how much I love you

Please don’t take that sunshine away

Truthfully, I hate that song. It’s a tragic heartache that’s been watered down to a lullaby for babies. In the earliest renditions, the song tells about a man begging his partner not to leave him for someone else, and most versions do not have a happy ending. Most songs don’t. 

Most lives don’t, either, it seems. In the darkest of times, one seeks comfort in mutual pain. I sang the heartache version to the baby, softly, hoping the others couldn’t hear me.

The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping

I dreamed I held you in my arms

But when I woke, dear, I was mistaken

And I hung my head and I cried

Some part of me found comfort in imagining that I was singing to my younger self in the wake of tragedy. And it hurt to realize that as abandoned as I’d felt in Sommerstad, I missed my father fiercely. In the aftermath, I longed for a voice to sing to me. His voice.

I’ll always love you, and make you happy

If you will only say the same

But if you leave me and love another

You’ll regret it all someday

The baby rested his head on my shoulder, hiccuping but no longer in tears. The terrain began to even out. When I looked up, I saw a house standing on chicken legs. I blinked and looked again. Indeed there was a structure that was more of a shack, but it was suspended off of the ground and built around the trunks of two firs. The roots of the trees were reminiscent of talons digging into the dirt. The frozen creek trailed underneath the house.

The shack was not alone. A ways up the incline there was a collection of houses, and a crowd of people bustling. A canopy had been set up and another was already being erected, underneath which very few spare cots were occupied by the injured. A man, a soldier with a bloody bandage wrapped over one of his eyes, jumped up from his cot and beckoned for the soldier carrying my sister. In an instant she was swept up in a flurry of rags and medics. Her skin was as pale as the frost, and she was dangerously still.

I couldn’t control my breaths. My lungs burned, my throat still acrid from the bile. The infant squealed unhappily in my arms, and I realized I had been squeezing him too tightly. I put him on the ground before I could drop him. I flexed my fingers to gain some semblance of control, but soon that became ineffective and instead I was pulling my hair. Edet, I swore. Oh, Edet. Now it was my turn to hiccup.I wept. I screamed. Someone had to tear me away from Edet’s cot, and the contact evoked something rabid in me. Something I hadn’t seen since I was a little kid, before I’d steeled myself from constant meltdowns. I cursed the person restraining me. I cursed God. I cursed myself for daring to consider a world without Edet, and now here I was staring in the face of it. No mother, no father, no Edet.

[cljordan-imperium]

7 Snippets 7 People

Thank you for the tag @oh-no-another-idea, sorry it took me a bit to get to it.

I'm going to tag - @shipping-through-eternity @saltysupercomputer @writerfae @aalinaaaaaa

“I just meant…” Phaedra couldn’t finish because she was laughing so hard.  With the way that all of the men seemed to be protective, she doubted any of the women were going to be alone much, even if it meant that some of the men would be sleeping on the couches that were in the bedrooms.  She had no doubt Deacon or Leandre would be for Yael, if not having to move another couch in so they both could. “I think we knew exactly what you meant, Princess.  And I think that we can handle bein in the bed with ya, gorgeous.”  Thinius waggled his brows as he dropped his arm around her shoulder and moved to get them out of the room before the conversation devolved more.  As much as he normally would have loved to take Phaedra to the bed, Dez was there and he was still getting a grip for how the whole situation was feeling.  

2.

Her touch almost caused a greater ache in his chest than his realization that he had been an ass to assume and not let her finish her sentence.  If Bella had reacted with anger or hurt, he would have understood and he deserved her reproach; instead she had been understanding and was worried herself.  Adriel felt that it was he who did not deserve this female as his mate.  His anger, which was indeed legendary amongst the Heavens and Hells, was something he now feared would hurt her and potentially drive her away.  If he lost her…

“I am sorry, Bella.  I have a temper, one which I have never had reason to contain nor restrict.  I did not mean to offend or hurt you.  I promise to do better in the future.” Slowly Adriel’s eyes opened and his head rose to look at her face. “You could not disappoint me.” Softly he kissed her, keeping his eyes on hers. 

3.

Horace’s jaw ticked and he controlled his breathing through his nose.  He wasn’t a demon, he had a problem with innocents being hurt or used, but fighting with Casperius was going to get him nowhere.  He’d have to warn Vasilus as well, otherwise there was sure to be another explosion sometime along the way, and Cormoran might not be around to defuse that one.  “Do what you want Casperius,” he leaned forward, “but when she figures out how you really are, do you think she’s going to want anything to do with you?  The drugs, the women, the booze, the death?  You’re bringing her into that?  Don’t bullshit me that she means anything more to you than a new plaything and when you’re done, you’ll do what you always do and discard her and move on.” His eyes narrowed as his head also tilted, a sarcastic smirk forming.  Horace was pushing buttons and he’d stopped giving a fuck. “Then Cormoran, Vasilus,  and I will clean it up so that she doesn’t end up Matty’s victim since you’ve already put her on his radar.  We’ve gotten good at cleaning up your messes over the years, The Source knows someone has to.”  Horace turned to head to the stairs that the other two had headed down. He was done with the conversation and had other things to attend to.  It was out of loyalty to Cormoran more than Casperius that Horace stayed at the manor and kept things in order.

Casperius’ hand shot out and grabbed Horace’s bicep, stopping him from walking off.  “How did Matty find that out?  You and Vasilus are the only ones who knew about her.”  It hadn’t occurred to him about that till Horace, himself, mentioned Matty finding her.  Cormoran wouldn’t have said anything to anyone at his estate, so it was someone on his own, and that pissed Casperius off.

4.

“I will trust you…for now, Lucifer.” Finally she answered him, her voice smooth as velvet.  It was rich and warm, a little deep for a female, but held a sensual note that tended to draw people in.

“I promise that you will not regret it, Cassandra.”  The corners of his lips lifted, reflecting his pleasure at her answer as he slid the ring upon her finger.  Lucifer had been saving the bauble for just the right time, and just the right person.  It seemed he had found both now, and that fact additionally pleased him.  “I am no angel, like your previous companion,” his eyes crinkled at the edges in humor, “but I am no longer the male that I was in the past.  My grandchildren have shown me the ere of my ways, I can assure you.”  That they let him go down into Caligo and enjoy some of the activities there did help.

5.

“I’m kind of possessive of my keyboard and mouse though.  Gonna have to insist on hands off.  You’re free to play with controllers to my systems, Red Hot, but not in my chair or at my controls back there.”  He raised his chin towards where his PC gaming setup was. “Back there I’m the king.  I got room for a Queen at my side though if ya wanna.”  

“And what exactly are you going to do if I try to take it over? Hmmm…?”  Del tipped her head to the side and narrowed her eyes up at him.  “Or if I just sit on you and take over?  Maybe I don’t need my own system, I’ll just take yours.”  She was still trying to come up with a good name for him.  I bugged her that he had come up with a good one for her right away and she was struggling, but she would.  His hand on her hip didn’t help, he was distracting her, most likely on purpose.

6.

Turning to face her, his dark eyes met those captivating greens of hers, “what is wrong with me?”

Ice water replaced blood flowing through Adalicia’s veins and it froze her in her spot.  “Excuse me?”  It was out of her mouth before her brain could think better of it.  And she heard Grea clear his throat and movement behind her.

“Kel, what are you doing?” Grae’s hands landed gently on Adalicia’s hips so as not to startle her, then he stepped so his chest was pressed lightly against her back. He wanted to make sure that she knew he was there to support her.  

7.

“Yeah, and you’ll wait here till she’s ready, boys.”  Thinius smuggly grinned as he watched the muscle in the King’s jaw tick.  Oh, he was wound tight.  Could Thinius get him to explode out here?  That would get them back to having fun a lot faster.  “Unless ya just want to leave the pretty box that I know ya brough with ya with us boys.   She might be a while.  And if you’re looking for a bride, well, you might as well head out.  She doesn’t like royal cock.”   Now he grinned, Mithos cleared his throat.  The King was getting red around the neck, and there was the ever so faint sound of grinding teeth.

Leave it to Thinius to piss off royalty before they’d even made it in to see Brie.  That was what he was out here to do, and he did it well.  Mithos always had thought it should be Dez at the door, but after a few of these visits lately, he was seeing the wisdom in picking the chaos demon to be with him here.  Besides being the joint Captain of the Queen’s Guard, he could be the most annoying asshole that Mithos had ever encountered. Thankfully he had never been on the receiving end of Thinius goading.

“If you were expecting to have your ass kissed as it was at times under the previous administration, Kellen, as you can see, the Queen bows to no one.”  Mithos smirked at the King.  They knew each other from when Lucifer reigned in Hell.  His tone was not as flippant, nor as cocky as Thinius’ but his grin was just as smug.  There was a challenge in his eyes that dared Kellen to say or do something, anything that would provoke a confrontation.

THE IMPERIUM CHRONICLES TAG LIST - @ceph-the-ghost-writer @kjscottwrites @writingpotato07 @saltysupercomputer @careful-pyromancer @late-to-the-fandom @autumnalwalker @perasperaadastrawriting @fearofahumanplanet @jessica-writes22 @dogmomwrites @mjjune @verba-writing @blind-the-winds @shipping-through-eternity @outpost51 @inkspellangel @blind-the-winds @sunset-a-story @writingmaidenwarrior @clairelsonao3

[dxsole]

@americanzealot | Cont. from X

"He's a very stubborn person, isn't he?" Deacon quietly questions to no one in particular. His head bobs in agreement with himself before motioning for his team to follow. "Delta team, would you be so kind as to flank the officers. Take them out from the rear and do it as quietly as possible— Echo team you're with me. We essentially will be cutting them off at the pass."

What should have been routine is now becoming a shitshow, but that seemed to be James' m.o. as far as Deacon knew. He's read enough about the other to know that he was a liability in every sense of the word but also very difficult to dispose of. His luck with survival knew no bounds and Deacon is actually rather relieved that he hadn't been sent to kill James.

It only took a matter of minutes, a black armored team walking in unison towards the fray. To the untrained eye, it just looked like SWAT had just entered the building, the only difference being the lack of lettering on their jackets and the fact that a rather posh man in a three-piece suit and bulletproof vest strolled on behind them.

One team did indeed creep up behind the officers, silencers making a subtle ping as each one is shot at the base of the neck, the start of the spine— Deacon had chosen his team very carefully, only hiring former sharpshooters from various military units throughout Europe. It made the whole process less messy.

There's a lot of yelling, demanding— it's all very uncouth as far as Deacon is concerned. So, up the stairs they march, again a quiet symphony of pops following more and more officers going down and staying down—

And then he sees the girl. "Oh, poor dear," She doesn't know what's happening, but she was just held hostage, tossed into the fray, and then witnessed policemen being shot down by what could be seen as their own men. It's certainly a predicament.

"Don't fret, we will be dealing with the rather rude man that threw you down the stairs in a moment. Shh, shh, no need to cry." As the rest of his team climbed the stairwell after James and the last remaining dregs of law enforcement, Deacon plucks a handkerchief from his inner pocket, handing it to her to clean herself up.

She offers it back with mascara stains and snot. "No, no...you can keep that. Now, love, can you tell me if the rude man upstairs said anything to you? I understand you've been through quite a shock, but it could be very important." He spoke more like the priest he had been training to be rather than a mercenary.

"—He's out of bullets."

Deacon's brow raises and he nods. "See? Now that is very important. Alright, you listen to me now, love. I want you to go with this nice man here— Charles for Pete's sake lower the gun, take off your helmet...Yes, very good, now escort the lady to the car. Please see to it that she gets medical attention and calls her family, yes?" She would be shot in the car, far away from Deacon and his sympathies. He knows it but he doesn't think it's very kind to cause her to panic. Hope was always better than the anticipation of death, in his mind. "Very good, now, follow Charles, love. Thank you for your help."

It's only a few more steps to James— Deacon enters, his men posed at the ready, artillery aimed at James' head, the final heap of police at their feet. Apparently, a lot had happened while he was tending to the girl.

"My goodness, this must be confusing to you." Deacon murmurs, stepping over the heap like it was his own personal red carpet. "I must begin by saying I am not with local law enforcement. Or federal. Or international for that matter." He almost feels prompted to exclude intergalactic as well, be he doesn't think James would appreciate a joke at this sensitive time. "It should also be noted that these men are not here to detain or kill you— the guns will remain raised, however, as your reputation does proceed you, James."

Someone from the back comes out with a fold-out chair, propping it open before Deacon settles himself down, looking far too relaxed for all that's occurred. "My name is Deacon Monday. I'm a friend from across the pond." Friend is perhaps too strong of a descriptor, but Deacon continues anyway.

"My employer is from England as well. You may or may not have heard of him, it doesn't," He's already waving it off. "Doesn't even really matter if you know who he is, just that you can probably piece together that he's very well funded and has a large reach." Deacon, pushes his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose. "He has asked me to track you down and ask you a few questions; mainly about specific people you've killed— would it be alright to discuss that with you now?" Not that he left Jimmy with much of a choice.

[thedeaconoftanglewood]

Greetings folks, welcome to the Tanglewoods!

Welcome, ye traveller! This is probably the first post I’ve ever made; and I ought to try to be more active here; basically have lurked for my entire presence on the information superhighway through this website’s many cracks and rifts. In any event, Welcome :-]! I’m Deacon, these are the Tanglewoods (No relation to a music venue of the same name – I stole it from the name of a bootleg by the band Soft Machine, similar to my profile picture; as one does), and I am one’s local nerd with not much a do in his life – every towne throughout the breadth of all the realms should be possessing of one such nerd, for indeed; the ideal of an eccentric, tis one to strive for! I go by he/him, 18, love vintage prog and psych rock, various assorted things under the label of ‘indie stuff’, and dungeon synth; classic fantasy novels – Tolkien, Le Guin, Moorcock, and Anne McCaffrey for the most part; playing D&D and other tabletops; vintage tech and old video games, particularly text adventures, RPGs and for the latter especially the Ultima series; among other things. I’ll mostly reblog stuff here and there; but am always open to interactions and messages. Hope you enjoy your stay ‘ere in this most tangled of domains; mayest thou feel most welcome. (NOTICE: UPDATED as of June 2024!)

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

To Live is Christ, and to Die is Gain

1 Paul and Timothy, servants of Jesus Christ,

To all the saints in Christ Jesus who are at Philippi, with the overseers and deacons:

2 Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

Paul’s Prayer for the Philippians

3 I thank my God for every reminder of you. 4 In every prayer of mine for you all, I have always made requests with joy, 5 due to your fellowship in the gospel from the first day until now. 6 I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Jesus Christ.

7 It is right for me to think this of you all because I have you in my heart, since both in my imprisonments and in the defense and confirmation of the gospel, you all are fellow partakers of my grace. 8 For God is my witness, how I long after you all with the affection of Jesus Christ.

9 And this I pray, that your love may abound yet more and more in knowledge and in all discernment, 10 that you may approve things that are excellent so that you may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ, 11 being filled with the fruit of righteousness, which comes through Jesus Christ, for the glory and praise of God.

To Live Is Christ

12 But I want you to know, brothers, that the things which happened to me have resulted in advancing the gospel, 13 so that my imprisonments in Christ have become known throughout the entire palace guard and to all the rest. 14 And a great many of the brothers in the Lord, having become confident because of my incarcerations, have dared to speak the word without fear.

15 Some indeed are preaching Christ out of envy and strife, and some also from good will. 16 The former preach Christ out of contention, not sincerely, intending to add trouble to my circumstance. 17 But the latter preach out of love, knowing that I am appointed for the defense of the gospel. 18 What then? Only that in every way, whether in pretense or in truth, Christ is preached. And in this I rejoice.

Indeed, I will rejoice. 19 For I know that through your prayer and the support of the Spirit of Jesus Christ, this will result in my deliverance. 20 Accordingly, it is my earnest expectation and my hope that I shall be ashamed in nothing, but that with all boldness as always, so now also, Christ will be magnified in my body, whether it be by life or by death. 21 For to me, to continue living is Christ, and to die is gain. 22 But if I am to live on in the flesh, this will mean fruitful labor to me. Yet I do not know what I shall choose. 23 I am in a difficult position between the two, having a desire to depart and to be with Christ, which is far better. 24 Nevertheless, to remain in the flesh is more needful for your sake. 25 Having this confidence, I know that I shall remain and continue with you all for your joyful advancement of the faith, 26 so that your rejoicing for me may be more abundant in Jesus Christ when I am in your presence again.

27 Only let your conduct be worthy of the gospel of Christ, that whether or not I come and see you, I may hear of your activities, that you are standing fast in one spirit, with one mind, striving together for the faith of the gospel. 28 Do not be frightened by your adversaries. This is a sign to them of their destruction, but of your salvation, and this from God. 29 For to you it was granted on behalf of Christ not only to believe in Him, but also to suffer for His sake, 30 having the same conflict which you saw in me and now hear is in me. — Philippians 1 | Modern English Version (MEV) The Holy Bible, Modern English Version. Copyright © 2014 by Military Bible Association. Published and distributed by Charisma House. Cross References: Psalm 119:66; Psalm 119:116; Job 16:19; Matthew 5:11; Mark 5:5; Luke 21:13; John 12:26; John 16:8; Acts 2:42; Acts 4:29; Acts 4:32; Acts 9:13; Acts 16:7; Acts 16:19; Acts 28:30; Romans 1:7,8 and 9; Romans 1:13; Romans 2:8; Romans 2:18; 1 Corinthians 9:17; Galatians 2:20; Galatians 6:4; Ephesians 6:20; Philippians 2:3; Philippians 2:16; Titus 3:14; Philemon 1:22

[blazefire2012]

I posted 4,481 times in 2022

That's 4,007 more posts than 2021!

35 posts created (1%)

4,446 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@moderatelybisexual

@sepulchritude

@amazinglyegg

@ghoulschooldropout

@justagh0ul

I tagged 761 of my posts in 2022

#ref - 21 posts

#fallout 4 - 14 posts

#yes - 11 posts

#hancock - 10 posts

#thank you for boone content - 9 posts

#i love him - 9 posts

#oh my god - 8 posts

#fallout 4 hancock - 8 posts

#fuck - 8 posts

#love him - 8 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#and because im not done with the soda thing make your own its iant that hard but the ingredients are pricey but cheaper than a case of cans

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Do u have any headcanons about deacon or dogmeat? I love them both sm

Oh hi! I have a few, not as many as Hancock becuase as someone in the tags put it beautifully, I'm a true ghoul simp so these are all I have 😅 Enjoy <3

Dogmeat

• Definitely that dog you read stories about that has many, many owners. Past the point that game actually mentioned. To the point where if different groups of people come together, such as a party to celebrate the institute becoming a crater, at least 7 people will be arguing. "His name is Jack, he followed my son home months ago!" "No buddy, you've got it wrong, his name is Ed and he helped me catch a radstag last fall!" "You're both wrong, Luke over here loves to hang around my caravan and his favorite thing is brahmin milk!" " What are you guys arguing ab- Aw, do you guys know Mitch too?"

• He has been accidently trained to go to his dog house/Soles bed for the night by the sound of water being dumped over the camp fire every night.

• Also accidently trained to smell when there's something wrong with people in his party and bumps the leg of anyone he's worried about. Infection in a wound, glucose levels, upcoming rads if the person he's traveling with doesn't have a Geiger counter, etc. A very good boy indeed.

• He will gravitate towards mama Murphy and sit on her feet because sometimes she will fall asleep and complain she's cold when she wakes up. She hasn't connected that he's doing it becuase he likes her, she just thinks he's trying to steal her chair. Which is a possibility.

• If you take off his bandana, goggles, or light dog armor, he will pick it up and bring it back to who ever is taking care of him at the time for it to be put back on. He doesn't like being naked.

Deacon

• Because he knows how to hide his emotions so well because it's his literal job, he can read people like a book. Almost scary he's so accurate.

• Learns about litterally anything he can get his hands on just because he can. And becuase it doesn't hurt if he's going undercover as an ex-BoS scribe. He has to walk the walk, you know?

• Even if he trusts someone, i.e Sole after the last affinity talk, he still doesn't like people touching HIM, but he will be the one to touch other people. "Cmere, your coats caught in your packs strap" "oh man, feel how cold my fingers are- why are you running?" "Oh cool, you had a tattoo! Pull up your sleeve, let me see! Does it feel any different when I do this?"

• Yes, the little thing he says during red glare and ambient comments when on sky scrappers is true, he is indeed scared of heights.... Which is exactly what WOULD annoy him to hear you say. He's scared of falling, not heights. Big difference.

• Loves to ask random things about the people hes with. After Sole mentions theyre from before the war or when MacCready mentions being the Mayor of Little Lamplight for example. To the extent if he's been marinating on a certian topic for a while, out of no where, usually at the worst times, he'll just blurt it out. Fighting tons of mirelurks- So did beer really taste better than warm spit like Nick likes to say? Trying to sleep at the dead of night- Did you name Codsworth or did he just get a special name out of the box? Sneaking around a super mutants camp- So was the platypus real or are those holo tape movies just fucking with me?

68 notes - Posted June 3, 2022

#4

Whenever my fiance pokes fun at me romancing Hancock over and over again or complaining Nick isn't romancable, I bring up the fact he let it slip one night that he's wanted to fuck Midna from twilight princess since the game came out.

And I'm not talking about her beautiful goddess form, oh no, he's not picky. He loved her in her cursed imp form before he found out that wasnt her real form so he has no room to talk about me wanting to hold hands with a sexy king of the zombies or toaster in a trench coat.

74 notes - Posted February 17, 2022

#3

I never thought about how hard it would be to draw a humanoid character when he doesn't have A FLIPPIN NOSE

89 notes - Posted March 14, 2022

#2

I'm still so shocked that people really like my previous headcanons for Hancock, Deacon, and Dogmeat so I guess to celebrate that and to challenge myself, I've got at least one for every character. It's not much for a few of them becuase I either never played with them all that much or I'm scared I won't get their personality quite right, but I hope I did well! Enjoy!

Hancock

• Actually shrunk a few inches height wise from turning ghoul. He sometimes gets heated about it when someone teases him but gets a bit proud at a particular comeback when he remembers Nick teasing him by asking if he was missing a few inches to which he replied "not where they count".

Dogmeat

• You ever hear stories about the family dog adopting a kitten and the kitten is now the dogs cat, nit the familys cat? Well he does this. He's so guilty of bringing home random animals. Hes brought home an abandoned Yao guai cub, baby ravens, radstags fawns, and countless cats and mongrels have followed him home.

Deacon

• Because of his crazy schedule and sometimes having to change plans or get ready and go at the drop of a cap, he has mastered the art of falling asleep anywhere, anytime, and recharging as if he's gotten a full eight hours. For example, leaning aginst the wall in the catacombs of the church while Tom tells him about a new conspiracy, he's dead asleep behind his sunglasses and only wakes up when Drummer Boy comes running in saying Sole fucked some shit up and needs help. He just pops up like he wasn't just dreaming about rafting in the stream around Sanctuary with a fruity drink in his hand and he's out the door.

Cait

• Secretly loves to be pampered, to be treated how she heard other girls would be treated growing up. If Sole offered to brush knots and mats out of her hair after a spat, she will act offended out of fear at first. Fear of Sole snatching the comb through her hair like her mother would, just to get it done and out of her way. She fights hard to not let out a small tear when Sole helps her feel beautiful and not a burden after her hair is smooth and taken care of.

• Treats curie like a "dumb little sister" but loves her dearly and wouldn't trade her for the world.

• Has a habit of flirting with anyone or anything out of habit of trying to stay alive by flattery. As she starts to get to know the crew, she begins to mean the compliments a bit more.

Piper

• Loves sugary things because it's what her dad would give her when he got back from scavenging. He would get lucky every once in a while and find someones stash and would have plenty of treats for his girls for a few weeks to hold them over. And with Sole as her new closest friend, she now has someone else besides Nat to spoil.

• She is consittered insane by most people becuase she actually enjoys the spinning feeling that you get from drinking.

• Has gotten in the habit of scrapping every camera she can find for good parts and film for Nat. While her specialty is written words for her paper, Nat has taken up the hobby of photography and is sometimes comissioned by her sister. She's pretty good at it.

Curie

• Though she knows the new plants may be dangerous to her now that she's out of the vault and only has knowledge of their previous ancestry, she enjoys picking a few extra specimens and presses them between the pages of a thick book for herself. For research purposes of course.

MacCready

• Because of his friendship with a particular vault dweller growing up in the capital wasteland, he steers way clear of any vaults he would be coming across according to his maps. He knows the vault he grew up next to was bad but with the stories he's heard, he's not going to take his chance with ANY of them.

• Once Sole comes back from Far Harbor and lets him try Vim Quartz, he's hooked. Reminds him of the bubblegum and other candies him and his friends would bet with back at little Lamplight. Even gives off a soft glow like the lights his old home had. Over all, punches him with so much nostalgia.

• (This one is more Duncan than Mac but its close enough) After Duncan is cured and comes to live in one of the settlements with his dad, he would get curious like all little kids and ask about the carved toy solider that Sole has. After they tell him what it is and how it's special becuase his mom gave it to his dad and then to them, they give it to the little boy and asked him to take good care of it becuase it means so much to so many people. MacCready will feel so much love (your choice, platonicly or romanticly) for Sole just from this one interaction alone and will have no doubt that those 250 caps that were used to hire him were the best Sole had ever spent.

• After becoming close friends with Sole, he will allow them to call him Bobby. The only person to call him that since Lucy.

• Will sometimes have little competitions like makeshift shooting ranges or foot races with Sole to see who would have to cook dinner that night.

• Definitely trained Dogmeat to grab him a new drink when his current one is empty

Danse

• Will never admit it, but he can't swim all that well. He can float and make a pretty good show of it as if hes swimming by choice, but he's not doing laps at a decent speed anytime soon.

X6-88

• Though he knows he's made to do one thing and one thing only, he takes pride in his look, particularly his hair. He claims it's for intimidation but he secretly loves having a sharp hairline he edges himself when he's off duty. Would love to be bold and try something new but always looses the nerve. Why fix what isn't broken?

Nick

• No matter how old someone is, if he's escorting someone through a rough place, he will take off his coat and drape the bottom half over someone shoulders and hold the rest up over their view so they don't see past him. He can't quite remember, but he thinks it's an old habit from his detective days, protecting people from paparazzi and news reporters as well as crime scenes.

See the full post

201 notes - Posted June 26, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Do you have hc about Hancock?? :D

I feel so honored to get this ask becuase im just all in my feels and hyperfixation right now and not by any means an actual fallout blog so here's these few headcanons that I threw together from my personal fics. If anything is confusing, let me know and I'll explain it better 😅

• In his line "Hey. Rads over here. Not for the softskinned", he says softskinned instead of anything like "smoothskin" becuase its, well, a slur in the context some ghouls say it, and also because he is consittered a new age ghoul and doesn't see the need to use such a word to describe someone if it has such negativity attached to it. Especially since it's only been a decade or so since he's been a ghoul.

• Because of his friendship with MacCready and hearing Mac's second hand stories from his Vault 101 friend back in the capital wasteland, he knows all too well of Vault-Tecs experiments in the different vaults. So when he meets the Sole Survivor and finds out what happened to them, he has even more of a reason to hate the company, a personal reason even.

• He LOVES pda in front of people like Pre-BB Danse, X6-88, etc, just to watch them squirm.

• You can pry this from my cold, dead hands, but you can still see a glimer of his concept art blue eyes under the blacked out part from a specific angle in specific lighting. He doesn't notice it until someone who he trusts enough to get that close tells him. He gets a bit warm and fuzzy but doesn't know why.

• (I read that Fahrenheit isn't his daughter in Canon, just in coding terms, so imma run with it) Even though Fahrenheit isn't his daughter he treats her as such. They met when she was young and he took care of her, basically saving her life. So out of loyalty and to repay a debt he constantly tells her doesn't exist, she took up the job of body guard. That and he taught her to play chess as a kid to get her mind off of bad things and that's why when she first meets Sole, she constantly makes chess references.

• He hates the irony that his new identity first name is also John. As much as he wants to forget his old life and name, it's still a bigger annoyance in his mind than he'd like.

• Becuase of being a ghoul, he's a lot warmer than youd think. So much so, sometimes sleeping in a settlement that has cats, he would wake up with one or more on his chest asleep with him.

• He used to hang out in the dinner above Diamond City, the one you have to parkour up to in-game, and do chems in secret away from everyone.

• (This may be something from my personal game becuase as soon as I sent him to a settlement, he started farming without me telling him to do so) He would work at the farm in Diamond city to get money for his chems.

• Loves loves loves leading people on when they think he's an older ghoul and ask what life was like prior to the bombs. "I'm telling you man, deathclaws used to be tiny. Teenage boys would keep them as pets. Feed 'em those little fish from the can. Their bites? Wouldn't even pierce the skin!"

• Even though he "gets around", he is so very touch starved. Like a close friend or significant other hugging him, touching his hands, straightening his clothes, even stealing his hat, he just melts on the inside.

• He knows Nick from his time in Diamond City. Loved to annoy the old synth as a kid and consitters Nick one of his only friends growing up.

216 notes - Posted June 1, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[pastortomsteers]

THE FIFTH SUNDAY OF EASTER

April 28, 2024

Pastor Tom Steers

Christ the Saviour Lutheran Church, Toronto

OPENING HYMNN:  544  “O Love, How Deep”

Lutheran Service Book

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eHASptbZB-A

 

The Invocation   Page 184

 

Pastor:  Halleluiah, Christ is risen!

Congregation:  He is risen indeed.  Halleluiah!

Confession and Absolution   Page 184-185

Introit (read by the Pastor)

                                                                                                                               Psalm 145, Verses 1-2,8,10,21, antiphon John 16: 16

145 I will extol you, my God and King,     and bless your name forever and ever. 2 Every day I will bless you     and praise your name forever and ever. 8 The Lord is gracious and merciful,     slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. 10 All your works shall give thanks to you, O Lord,     and all your saints shall bless you! 21 My mouth will speak the praise of the Lord,     and let all flesh bless his holy name forever and ever.  

16 “A little while, and you will see me no longer; and again a little while, and you will see me.”

Pastor:  Halleluiah, Christ is risen!

Congregation:  He is risen indeed.  Halleluiah!                                                                                                                                 The Kyrie (Lord Have Mercy) 

                                                                                                                               Congregation:                                                                                                                                                                             Lord, have mercy upon us. 

Christ, have mercy upon us. 

Lord, have mercy upon us.

The Salutation –                                                                                                                              Pastor: The Lord be with you.  

Congregation: And also with you. 

Our Collect Payer:

O God, You make the minds of Your faithful to be of one will. Grant that we may love what You have commanded and desire what You promise, that among the many changes of this world our hearts may be fixed where true joys are found; through Jesus Christ, Your Son, our Lord, who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.  Amen.

Our Bible Readings:

First Reading   Acts 8: 26-40 Psalm 150                                                                                                        Epistle Reading   1st John 4: 1-11

Our Gospel Reading      John 15: 1-9

Hymn & Confession of Faith  954  “We All Believe in One True God”

HYMN OF THE DAY:  633  “At the Lamb’s High Feast We Sing”

SERMON

We are coming closer to the end of the Church season of Easter.

Our Bible readings now start to look forward to Pentecost.

It’s like walking between two great lights.

Today we see the deacon Philip witnessing to the Ethiopian Eunuch.

We also hear the Apostle John urge us to test the spirits and live in love.

Then, Jesus compares our connection to Him as branches to a vine.

Our texts this Sunday speak about the whole human being engaged in the Christian life.

In our Epistle reading, John is making some important connections for us.

Test the spirits, he writes.

This means not all spirits are good ones.

And that there is no true spirituality outside of Christ.

The test John speaks of is simple.

Jesus has come in the flesh.

Confessing Christ in the flesh is about love, John says.

Two things the devil cannot fake, are love and faith.

Love is the very nature of God.

God dwells in us, and He‘s stronger than the one who dwells in the world, satan.

When we love, God Himself is acting through our kindness and compassion shown to one another.

God is also the one acting, through the Holy Spirit, in His Word and the Sacraments of Baptism and the Lord’s Supper.

These are God’s means of grace, instituted by Jesus Himself.

Many in North American Christianity have located the distinction between the saved and the unsaved in the human will.

This is what’s going on when the Baptist and Pentecostal TV preachers call for people to ‘make a decision for Christ.’

They falsely say the difference between you and a person who is lost is what you decide, your ‘willful’ action.

But that simply locates our salvation back inside us, and this is Biblically wrong.

The difference between Christians and people who will be eternally separated from God is not what we’ve done.

We all deserve the down escalator at the end of time.

It is what Christ has done for us on the cross that saves.

And as far as the ‘decision’ issue, Jesus clarified that once and for all when He told the Apostles: ‘You didn’t choose me, I chose you.’

(John 15:16)

The perfection of which John writes about in the Epistle today speaks not about a perfection of the will, but a perfection of love God works in us.

Its root is not found not in us, but in Christ and His cross.

It is Jesus, Himself, who abides and acts through us.

Our focus is always on what Christ has done, and continues to do, through His true Church.

And so, we come to the Gospel reading from John, and the Words of Jesus.

Christ says, in His humble agricultural example, that we receive the very sustenance of life from Him.

What does it mean to ‘abide in Jesus?’

It means that our whole life is lived under the cross and in the light of the empty tomb.

We abide in Jesus when we remember Christ paid for our sins, a payment we could never make.  

When we consider our virtue, we notice that Jesus is the one who puts it there.

There are two ways to fail here.

We could take our sin to another place for forgiveness, to self-salvation or false religions.

But we receive this example, this gift, that Jesus is offering when we realize our only hope is in Him.

The branch, grafted into the vine, soon grows together.

They become one thing.

The branch draws its life from the vine.

God the Father is the vinedresser, we are not.

God connects us to Christ; we don’t connect ourselves to Jesus.

God works faith in Christ within us.

The fruit production is the work of the Lord, even though the labour is ours.

Yet even this labour is impossible for us on our own.

We depend on the gift of the Holy Spirit.

He connects us to Christ in the waters of our Baptism, in the flesh and blood of the Lord’s Supper, in the hearing of the Word, and the forgiving voice of absolution after our confession.

Through those things the very nutrients of God flow into our life and through us into the lives of others.

This enables the good fruit to be born, the gift of life to those who are hungry for God’s Word and salvation.

The Apostle John, who wrote both our Gospel and Epistle readings today, was dealing with a problem in the First Century of some folks who based their faith on false notions of spirituality.

These people said God would not have truly entered the flesh; Jesus must have been a spirit, according to them.

They said Jesus only “seemed” to be human.

Some people John was dealing with were early Gnostics.

These heretics believed it was through secret ‘knowledge’ that we obtain salvation, and that Jesus only really came to save our souls.

But through the work of the Holy Spirit John saw the lie in all this.

The Apostle knew that if Jesus did not take up our humanity, in all its humanness, He did not save it.

If Jesus did mot truly die on the cross, He didn’t pay for our sins.

But He did die, and rose again.

What John also saw with crystal clarity is that when Jesus took up our humanity, He enabled us to love our fellow human being in a different way.

If Jesus only died to save our spirit or soul, then the suffering of our neighbours is just something to be escaped.

But Jesus did come in the flesh, and that means that my neighbour’s humanity has also been redeemed by Christ and is connected to Him.

When we love others, we are loving Jesus.

We do need to remember, though, that our works and the way we treat our neighbour can become matters of sin.

Thankfully our salvation is not dependent on our works.

As John says, our love, when it truly exists, is actually the very presence of God.

Without God dwelling in us, we’re lost, utterly and completely.

We cannot ‘own’ that love as if it’s ours, without God.

Christ is not ashamed to dwell with us.

He is not tainted by our sin.

His holiness alone renders us forgiven.

Our love is not us earning God’s favour, it is the beautiful evidence of God’s favour proclaimed in our Baptism.

Our love is never perfect.

But Jesus does not call saints, he calls sinners, and makes us saints.

May the love of God abide in You, and may You abide in Him, and express His love to others.

Amen.

PRAYERS OF THE CHURCH 

SERVICE OF THE SACRAMENT   Page 194 

                                                                                                       

(Our Communion Hymn is “The Infant Priest Was Holy Born”)                                                                                                                              Communion Collect   (Right-hand column)         Page 201

                                       

CLOSING HYMN:  919  “Abide, O Dearest Jesus”

[bijouxcarys]

𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧' 𝐆𝐮𝐲 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

Masterlist

𝐈’𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐞.

I felt as though my life was hanging by a thread, teetering on the edge of existence. Every moment that passed solidified the fact that this was indeed my last day on Earth.

The train jolted forward, and it was as if my very soul had been violently ripped away. Maybe it happened when the doors closed, or perhaps when they opened to allow me inside. No, it was the culmination of this entire sequence of events that led to this overwhelming sense of finality.

I wished Brian could have accompanied me to Kings Cross, but his commitments with the band kept him occupied. I knew he would have been there if he could, his career and schedule were not to be disrupted by my emotional outbursts. I couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement for Queen, knowing that they were on the cusp of recording a new album, their chance to truly shine. The world would finally see them for what they were: a group of beautiful, talented young men with an insatiable passion for painting the world with their music.

As the train sped onward, the world outside gradually transformed, the distance between London and myself growing with each passing moment. And with that distance, Brian would be left behind. I had never been one for long-distance relationships, and the thought of being apart from him filled me with a sense of unease.

That morning, I had risen earlier than necessary to bid a proper farewell to everyone. The haze of last night’s drunkenness prevented me from doing so then. Even Roger had said his goodbyes, and we exchanged a heartfelt hug. In some strange way, I think we both enjoyed getting under each other’s skin. Don’t misunderstand me; I held a deep resentment toward him for what he had done to my best friend. But I couldn’t ignore what Brian and Freddie had told me: it’s just Roger. Roger Taylor was a man who loved women and loved sex. But he also loved Emma, and Emma loved him. How could I possibly interfere with that? Despite the occasional barb we would throw at each other, it became a familiar dance that, in the end, always managed to coax a laugh from me, even if it initially wounded my heart.

John, in his ever-calm demeanour, offered me words of wisdom as he often did. He urged me to try and understand my parents’ perspective, should the need arise. John was the quiet one, and I must admit I haven’t mentioned him much. But he possessed a serene presence that was truly awe-inspiring. Of course, those who knew him better than I did understood that he had a wild side buried deep within him, a side I yearned to discover. Sadly, I hadn’t had enough time with him to unveil that aspect of John Deacon. Yet, I longed for it. Every time he embraced me, his hair brushing against my face with its softness, he exuded a cuddliness that I couldn’t help but adore.

From an outsider’s perspective, Freddie and I could easily be mistaken for a couple. Our connection was undeniable, a deep affection that flowed both ways. There was something truly extraordinary about Freddie Mercury, unlike anyone I had ever encountered. He possessed an air of intimidation at first, but those who knew him understood that he was one of the kindest souls to grace this earth. If you didn’t have a special place in your heart for Freddie, well, you must be out of your mind. He clung to me like a koala, offering words of protection and urging me to give anyone who gave me trouble a good kick, or else he would take matters into his own hands. His parting words to me were simple yet quintessentially Freddie: “Stay fabulous.”

Now, let’s talk about the emotional rollercoaster that was saying goodbye to Brian and Emma. Yes, there was tension with Emma, and things weren’t exactly perfect. But she was the person who helped me settle into the unfamiliar university environment. She was there for me during moments of panic, tears streaming down my face and my cheeks turning crimson. She lent a comforting presence when I woke up in the dead of night, needing someone to listen and understand, even when I was tempted to fall back into my old habits of self-harm. Emma knew every part of me, just as I knew every part of her. We were more than friends; we were like sisters. And this would be the first time in a long while that I would be returning to Yorkshire without her by my side. The thought of being separated from her made me nervous, but I held it together as we bid our farewells.

Saying goodbye to Brian, on the other hand, was an entirely different story. He had witnessed every ounce of my Christmas-induced paranoia and did everything in his power to ease my worries. Sometimes, he may have been a tad overly attentive, but at the end of the day, he was my entire world, and my world revolved around him. The tears simply could not be contained as I wrapped my arms tightly around him. In that moment, he held me so close that it felt as though we could merge into one and disappear into a whimsical realm. Yet, his comforting whispers and the velvety tone of his voice served as a reminder that this was reality, and I was still grounded in it. He stayed by my side for as long as he could before the boys had to depart, but the time I had with him was worth every second.

Alone, I found myself in that moment. My bag of belongings sat faithfully beside me, my only companion on this journey. Prepared for the four-hour train ride, I clutched my favourite book, “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.” Despite its dark and sombre tone, it served as a reminder that my own life could have taken a far more tragic path.

As the train approached Leeds station, a wave of nausea washed over me, and the surroundings grew increasingly familiar. The conversation I had with my mother before leaving for Kings Cross replayed in my mind, igniting a fiery rage within me. What were the words that stirred such anger? Let me share them with you.

“We can’t afford to cover your travel expenses, Maria. You’ll have to pay for your own train ticket.”

My stomach twisted with fury as I repeated those words, a relentless loop of frustration.

“You’ll have to take a bus from the station back home. Your father and I won’t be around.”

Anxiety coursed through my veins once again, and I forced myself to remember what awaited me upon my return to the South. My parents knew all too well about my paralysing social anxiety when it came to traveling alone. I had to practice making the journey to London four times before starting university. Why couldn’t they have shown the courtesy of meeting me when I hadn’t been home in so long? The thought only heightened my unease.

It did little to ease my worries when Brian insisted on giving me money for the train tickets, despite my attempts to convince him I could handle the expense myself. I despised relying on Brian’s financial support. He had his own dreams to chase, and I often felt like an obstacle in the path of his success.

Taking a deep breath, I settled into my seat, closing my eyes, and hoping that the journey would pass swiftly, my mounting anxiety fading into the background.

Thankfully, I managed to locate the correct bus at Leeds Station. Awkwardly positioned at the front, clutching my bag, I held onto the metal pole for dear life as the driver navigated the roads with a hint of recklessness. We left the bustling city centre behind, venturing into the more secluded outskirts.

Observing the people passing by in cars, on bicycles, and on foot, I couldn’t help but slip into the mindset of sixteen-year-old Maria. I was a timid and fearful teenager, lacking experience and a clear sense of purpose. It felt as though I was returning home from school once again, my white collar chafing against my neck under the scorching sun, my hair haphazardly pulled back into a messy ponytail. Resting my head against the cold metal pole, vivid memories resurfaced: boys stealing glances at girls, throwing sweets and paper across the bus, while the girls fixed their hair, lost in fantasies about The Beatles and The Beach Boys. These memories appeared as crystal clear as they were in those days. I was always the girl who sat at the back of the bus, nestled in the corner, engrossed in a book about mysterious sea creatures or the artistry of Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin. Old movies held a special place in my heart. My friends and I each had our own transistor radios, tucked into our pockets, tuned to different stations, creating a cacophony of sound at the rear of the bus, much to the annoyance of others. But we never cared about anyone’s opinion. Often, I’d tune in to stations playing rock music, immersing myself in its raw intensity—a humorous attempt at channelling my inner demon. Well, sort of.

“Stop!” The driver’s voice jolted me back to reality, and I realised it was time to disembark. Expressing my gratitude to the driver, I stepped off the bus, slinging my bag over my shoulder. It was time to find my way back…

“Mum!” I called out, shutting the front door behind me. Silence. I tried calling for my dad. Still, no response. My brother. Again, no answer. The front door had been locked upon my arrival, forcing me to retrieve the spare key hidden beneath the welcome mat.

Dropping my bag in the hallway and placing the key in the dish, I made my way into the living room. Everything appeared unchanged—impeccably clean and eerily quiet. The Christmas tree stood peacefully in the corner, adorned with minimal decorations to avoid any hint of “tackiness.” The other rooms exuded the same atmosphere, except for the clamour of the washing machine emanating from the kitchen. I knew my parents would be out, but I had expected them to return before me.

With a frustrated sigh, I lugged my bag up the stairs and headed towards what used to be my room. The sight that greeted me was devastating. My parents had completely transformed the space—my posters and photos had been taken down and carelessly stuffed into boxes, tossed into the wardrobe. My own piano, once occupying the back wall, had vanished into the unknown. It now resembled a generic guest room. And in a way, a guest is what I had become.

I could delve into the details of my home and the emotions it stirred within me, but it doesn’t require a genius to understand that I was far from pleased to be back. The fact that my presence and past in that house had been discarded and relegated to obscurity left me disheartened. Knowing it would be a while before my parents returned, I decided to run myself a bath. Slipping into the mildly hot water, bubbles enveloping me up to my neck, I rested my hand on the side of the tub, my elbow supporting me. The loneliness was already overwhelming, aching for his touch and attention, despite it having been merely ten hours since we had been apart.

I bit my lip, glancing at the phone resting on the side table—a peculiar addition to our bathroom, I admit. I blinked a few times, trying to grasp the time and contemplating whether Brian would be occupied. Knowing he had a recording session scheduled for the day, I anticipated his likely late-night finish. Leaning my head back, I closed my eyes, steeling myself for the arduous two weeks ahead.

Even by seven in the evening, my parents hadn’t returned, and my fifteen-year-old brother was presumably still out with his friends, engaging in whatever teenage pursuits consumed their leisure time. I managed to prepare myself a pasta meal, opting for the more indulgent brands we had in the house, without creating a mess in the kitchen. Sad as it may be, I didn’t promptly wash up and tidy everything simply out of a desire to be helpful or adhere to moral obligations. I did so out of genuine fear of my mother’s reprimand. At twenty-two years of age, I remained petrified of her. Nevertheless, I was certain she would find fault in my actions. Perhaps I was expected to starve until she dictated otherwise.

Seated on my bed, clad in one of Brian’s button-up shirts, I massaged lotion onto my legs, leaning against the headboard. It was in this relaxed state that the phone beside my bed suddenly rang. I startled at the abrupt sound but swiftly answered, realising the importance of not missing any calls intended for my parents. Yet, the voice that greeted me enveloped me in the most delightful warmth.

“Brian!” I exclaimed, my volume bordering on excessive, prompting him to chuckle on the other end of the line.

“Hello, love. I’ve been terribly worried about you and wanted to check how you’re doing.” The genuine concern in his tone sent shivers down my spine, momentarily brightening my face with a smile.

“Oh, aren’t you sweet… I’m okay. I’m the only one home at the moment, so I don’t have to worry about impressing anyone. Yet.” I let out a dry laugh, continuing to massage my calf with one hand while cradling the phone with the other.

“Your parents aren’t there?”

“No, but I’m not complaining.” I could almost sense the concern swirling in Brian’s mind. “Don’t worry, Bri. They’re off to some party with their friends. As for my brother, who knows? I’ll just assume he’s out with his mates.”

“If you’re certain you’re alright… Don’t think I won’t hop on the next train and whisk you away,” he responded, his voice tinged with a protective instinct.

“Please do…” I whined playfully, pouting as if he could see me through the phone.

Brian’s chuckle resonated through the phone. “I wish I could see you. I miss you a lot. I-I know it’s silly, I mean, it’s only been like twelve hours. But I do.”

My heart swelled, and my eyes welled up with tears. “Bri…” I sighed. “I miss you too, so much.”

“Does your accent automatically become a hundred percent Northern when you’re up there? Is it the air? Do I really need to come and rescue you?”

“I wouldn’t complain if you broke in and whisked me back down South. I’d thank you until the end of time.”

“I knew you enjoyed it when I get a bit rough.” He wasn’t entirely wrong, and I audibly gasped, nonetheless.

“Brian May, behave yourself,” I muttered, smirking to myself.

“Maria Brennan, don’t try to deny it.” He bantered with me for a few more minutes, our usual playful exchange. And for a moment, I felt like I was back in our flat with Emma, feeling more content with everything. It was a testament to the profound impact Brian had on me and my life. But when it was time for Brian to end the call, I put up a fight.

“No, Bri, please… Can’t you talk a little longer?”

“Ria…” He sighed, pausing for a moment. I held my breath, furrowing my eyebrows.

“Okay, just a bit longer… Rog is struggling to tune his snare, and he’s throwing a bit of a tantrum about it. I don’t think we’ll be getting back to recording anytime soon.”

“Yay,” I said, beaming. “How’s the recording going?” I couldn’t believe I had forgotten to mention it or inquire about how it was progressing. I felt like a terrible girlfriend in that moment.

“It’s going well, yeah. I’ve added a few more tracks to ‘Doing Alright,’ so it sounds a bit richer than when I perform it live. I’d say it’s all coming together quite nicely. Freddie’s working on some obscure number during our breaks. We all seem to be constantly in motion. Ideas are flowing out of us, love. I can’t wait to share some of the finished material with you when we’re done.”

I could have listened to Brian talk endlessly about music, stars, animals, or anything else if it meant he would speak like that forever. As you all know, he truly possesses the most beautiful speaking voice. He always has.

“I’m excited to hear it all when it’s finished. And I promise you, I’ll be the first person to buy it when it’s released. I’ll frame that album and keep it in a temperature-controlled room. I’m serious, Brian. Nobody is ready for the impact you all will have on the industry. In the best possible way, of course.”

“You sure are our biggest fan. Well, maybe Emma surpasses your enthusiasm, but that might be because of Roger.”

“I’m just a proud girlfriend, Bri. Very proud,” I smiled. These were the moments I wished could last forever, but they always seemed to end too quickly.

“And I’m a proud boyfriend. I’m so proud of you for making it on your own, my love. I truly am,” Brian replied.

“So am I…” I wasn’t one to seek validation from myself, but something about Brian’s validation allowed me to see how strong I could be when I needed to be.

There was some murmuring on the other end of the line, and I heard John calling Brian back to them. I frowned, bracing myself for the unwanted farewell.

“I guess you have to go now.”

“Yeah… But I’ll call you tomorrow, Maria, I promise,” he assured me. “I love you.”

Despite the bittersweet moment, I couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear at the freedom we now had to express our love for each other.

“I love you too, Brian. Don’t stress yourself out too much.” Another shout from Brian’s end made him sigh in annoyance.

“I’m fucking coming, hold on a second!” he shouted away from the phone before his voice returned. “I’ll try not to. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, love. Bye.” And just like that, he was gone.

I awoke with a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach, a sense that something had changed overnight. As I stumbled into the kitchen, still half-asleep and clad in Brian’s button-up shirt and pyjama shorts, the sight of my mum bustling about sent a wave of tension through me.

“There she is!” My mum squealed with an overly cheerful tone that grated on my exhausted nerves. I dragged myself to a chair, my head sinking into my palms. I didn’t mean for my response to sound to drained and off-putting, but seriously, could you blame me?

“Here I am,” I groaned, my words laced with weariness. But my mum, unphased by my lacklustre reply, beamed at me as she placed breakfast in front of me. I grimaced at the sight of it, trying to hide my displeasure.

“Don’t give me that look, Maria Brennan. You used to love this when you were younger,” she scolded, shaking her head as she returned to the counter. My eyes fixated on the avocado slop smeared over some granary bread.

No, I used to give it to the dog when you weren’t looking.

“Oh, yes. How silly.” I mustered up a façade of faux happiness as I brought the unappetising mess to my lips, forcing myself to take a bite. It didn’t take long for me to adjust, having spent years as a teenager raining myself not to spit out distasteful food. As I stared ahead, my mum settled down at the opposite side of the table, cradling a cup of tea in her hands.

“So, you managed to get some money for the train then?”

I raised my eyebrows, picking at the bread. “Kinda.” I noticed the stern expression on my mum’s face and quickly corrected myself. “Kind of. I borrowed some money from… someone.”

She seemed to miss my momentary stutter, much to my relief, and sipped her tea. “Oh? That’s nice. Was it Emma?”

“No.” I shook my head, nibbling on the piece of bread I’d picked off. “It was someone else. A friend.” I stared down at my plate, silently praying for an escape from this conversation.

“It wasn’t that boy you mentioned before, was it? You know what boys want at the end of the day, and I’m not going to sit here and watch my little girl get messed around by a Londoner—”

“He’s not even from London, technically,” I interjected with a sigh. “And he gave me the money because he knew I was struggling. Because someone didn’t help me out in the first place, like I thought they would.” I jabbed, looking back up at my mum, whose widened eyes betrayed her shock at my mildly confrontational tone.

“You’re twenty-two years old. You aren’t a child anymore.”

“Exactly. So why am I not allowed to have a boyfriend just because my mum said so?” It had only been ten minutes, and we were already locked in an argument. A new record if I do say so myself.

“So he is your boyfriend, then?” My mum nodded slowly, attempting to regain her composure.

“Pretty much,” I affirmed. “Where’s Dad? I want to talk to him.” I stood up abruptly, a mix of frustration and longing fuelling my impulsive action.

“Sit down, he’s not even here. He’s working,” she snapped back.

I clenched my jaw and begrudgingly resumed my seat, crossing my arms like an angry teenager. “I honestly don’t see the point of me coming back here if all you’re going to do is pick apart my life—a life I have managed to build somewhat decently since leaving here.”

“Oh yes, Maria, a life that consists of living in a disgusting university flat and running around with a boy who only wants one thing from you—that’s very decent of you.”

“You don’t even know anything about him, Mum!” I shouted, shocking her immensely. “You don’t know what he’s done for me! I’ve made new friends that, hopefully, I’ll keep forever, and Brian is not going to mess me around. Brian is not just some boy in London. If you met him, you’d love him. I love him. And you’re just going to have to deal with that.”

I leaned back, my gaze shifting to the ceiling as I attempted to clam my anger, taking deep breaths.

“Fine, I guess I can let this one go, I can let it slip!” my mother exclaimed with an air of faux magnanimity.

“Wow, thanks,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. For a brief moment, I thought I detected a glimmer of remorse in my mother’s eyes. There was a strained silence between us, and in these moments, I questioned the necessity of our arguments. I sometimes felt guilty for snapping or lacking the motivation to connect with my family, but it was a two-way street.

“Did you say his name was Brian?” my mother asked, her tone slightly softer.

“Yeah,” I replied.

“What does he do?” she inquired.

My voice softened as I thought about Brian. “He’s studying astrophysics at the university. I met him while doing some work experience.” I tried to keep my explanation concise, wary of divulging too much. I was almost afraid to mention that Brian was in a band…

“Oh? What on Earth would an astrophysics student need an events management student for?” she pressed.

I don’t know why I had hoped my mother would have forgotten the time I mentioned Brian’s involvement in a band. It was wishful thinking, to say the least.

“Professor Ross needed someone to manage a band and—”

“For God’s sake, Maria, a band? You’re involved with someone who’s in a band?” My mother shook her head, narrowing her eyes as she placed her teacup on the table. “You know what those boys are like!”

“God, Mum, he’s not like that! He’s one of the sweetest guys I have ever met, and I swear I’ve felt safer with him in the past few months than the twelve hours I’ve been back here!” I retorted, my frustration building.

As if on cue, the front door slammed shut, sending a chilly gust of wind through the room, sweeping across my exposed legs under the table.

“You can hear the bloody shouting from up the driveway. What the hell is going on?” my dad’s voice boomed as he appeared in the doorway, his gaze shifting between my mother and me with a stern intensity.

“Our daughter is seeing a boy who’s in a band,” my mother informed him, settling back in her seat with a smug expression that made my stomach churn. I let out a weary sigh, turning my attention to my father, hoping for a more understanding reaction.

“That’s sweet. Why are we arguing?” he responded, his voice sickly and patronising. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than being yelled at.

“Thank you, Dad,” I sighed, glancing back at my unhappy mother.

“If you come back pregnant this summer, you’re never going back, and we will sort that out. And if you catch him sleeping with someone else, don’t be surprised…” my mother warned, her words dripping with disdain.

“Linda!” my dad interjected, his tone firm as he shook his head. “Let her do what she wants. She’s just having a bit of fun. You weren’t any better when you were in university. It’ll blow over.” With that, he walked away, heading into the hallway to hang up his coat, leaving me pleasantly surprised by his support.

“This is so much fun already,” I muttered sarcastically under my breath, my frustration lingering despite my father’s brief intervention.

Christmas Day was a far cry from the joyful celebrations I had experienced down South at the flat. My family’s house lacked the festive atmosphere, with scarce decorations adorning the rooms. The gifts I received from my parents were well-intentioned but fell flat. Endless books related to my course were piled before me, which would have been helpful if I hadn’t already acquired all the necessary materials. I had to constantly remind myself that my situation could have been worse, berating myself internally and, at times, physically, for feeling so discontented. On the surface, I had an amazing life—supportive friends, a loving and affluent family, and an incredible boyfriend. But that’s the insidious nature of developing depression—it doesn’t discriminate or wait for the right time.

On a somewhat lighter note, albeit still messed up, my brother decided to grace us with his presence on Christmas Eve. To my dismay and overwhelming anger, he arrived for his girlfriend’s house—yes, his fucking girlfriend’s house. Needless to say, I erupted in fury.

Moving on.

It was the final weekend before I returned to my true home, just two days until my departure. My family had planned to host a New Year’s party at our house. Standing before the mirror, I took in my appearance, my gaze settling on the extra weight I carried around my hips, legs, arms, and face. This self-consciousness often deterred me from wearing dresses, and now I felt the constriction of my figure in one. The dress I wore was a flutter-sleeved botanical design, its fabric flowing and adorned with floral patterns. After showering, I had braided my hair, but the strands were now released, transformed into loose waves and curls. I meticulously applied my signature makeup, the only aspect I could hold onto amidst the turmoil. Don’t get me wrong—I liked the dress. But I couldn’t shake the discomfort it brought. Who was I to deny a dress gifted by my own father? Already, I could feel the burning sensation in my feet caused by the five-inch heels I wore, despite their appeal in elongating my legs.

“You look like a massive flower,” my brother remarked from the doorway, his voice dripping with arrogance, followed by an obnoxious chuckle. I shot him a narrowed-eyed glare, clenching my jaw, and he instantly understood to shut up.

“And you look like a little shit, but I’m not complaining,” I retorted, refusing to give him the satisfaction. I turned my attention back to the mirror, running my hands over my body one last time before leaving the room. The distant sound of music and murmured conversations from downstairs permeated the house through our stereo system. I glanced down at my brother, who was dressed in a suit and a bow tie. “You look like a penguin,” I stifled a laugh. “If I have to wear this, you have to wear that,” I commented, noticing his scowl and uncomfortable shift.

My brother and I meandered down the hallway, intentionally prolonging our time before mingling with our parents’ friends.

“Do you know any of these people?” I shouted over the increasingly loud music.

“They’ve been to the house a few times, but no. Don’t know their names or anything about them, to be honest,” my brother replied in his strong Yorkshire accent, providing a sense of comfort. I realised that as long as I stuck by his side for the rest of the night, I would be okay.

“Chris…” I called his name, stopping at the top of the stairs. He looked at me, waiting for me to continue. “Please don’t walk off and leave me. You know how I am with new people…” A quick flashback of the panic attack at The Britannia flashed through my mind, back when Brian and I were just starting out. Chris tried to act cool, as every fifteen-year-old does, but eventually he patted my arm, giving me a softer look than usual.

“You know I won’t. I don’t know anybody either!” He joked, looking up at me, although he didn’t have to look up very far; he was a tall teenager. “Now,” he said, fixing his hair and straightening his suit, topping it off with a characteristic inclusion of some sunglasses that did not fit with the rest of the outfit at all. “Let’s go and die, sis.”

The night unfolded with my mum enthusiastically introducing me to everyone and vice versa. She took pride in having a daughter who was attending university in her early twenties.

“And you do events management? How different,” remarked Shirley, some random woman, raising her prosecco to her lips without taking a sip.

“Yeah… It’s pretty different,” I nodded, fidgeting with my fingers that were interlaced in front of me. “I actually met my boyfriend through my course.”

Shirley’s eyes widened, leaning forward with interest. “Boyfriend? It’s all happening for you lot, isn’t it, Linda?” She glanced at my mum, who attempted to maintain a polite smile through the topic of Brian.

“Well, we’ll see if it happens, won’t we, Maria?” My mum looked at me, conveying her scepticism about the longevity of my relationship with Brin for the umpteenth time.

“It will,” I affirmed, nodding confidently. “He’s a guitarist. I’ve been helping his band secure gigs and stuff like that…” My words trailed off as I noticed Shirley’s lack of interest. “Yeah, it’s been good,” I concluded, averting my gaze and ensuring that Chris was still by my side. He was, amusing himself with impromptu dance moves to the blaring Elvis record.

It felt like I was trapped in an endless loop, having the same conversation with parents’ friends and facing the same disinterested or confused expressions that Shirley wore. Chris and I retreated to the kitchen, where the music was slightly less overwhelming but still loud enough for him to continue his dance routine. I observed him from the side, pouring myself a glass of lemonade with a splash of vodka.

“I must admit, Chris, your dancing has been the most calming thing tonight. Thank you for making me cackle with your… extraordinary dancing skills,” I said, emphasising “extraordinary”, causing him to stick his tongue out at me.

“I don’t have to worry about being asked what I’m doing. Another year in school, then off to work,” Chris grinned, retrieving a J2O from the fridge.

“Yeah, I’m sure Mum will let you work instead of going to college,” I slurred slightly on my S’s.

“And I’m sure Mum will appreciate you getting drunk at her New Year’s party,” Chris smirked, perching himself on the kitchen counter. He watched as I downed half of my glass in one go. “Have you talked to your friends?”

I sighed, hoisting myself up onto the kitchen island, facing Chris. “I spoke to Emma last night. She’s been with Roger since Thursday, so I can only imagine the state of the flat. I tried calling Brian this morning, but Freddie picked up. I forgot to bring Brian’s home number, so I don’t know when I’ll get to talk to him next.” I frowned, swirling the liquid in my glass before finishing it. My surroundings faded away as thoughts of my curly-haired lover overwhelmed my mind. “I miss him, Chris. A lot.”

“Well, you’re going back on Monday. Won’t you see him then?” Chris asked.

“Yeah… only two more days,” I chuckled, looking back at him. “Before I left, John mentioned a New Year’s gig they’re doing at The King’s Head, even though it’s not actually on New Year’s, so Freddie had a fit about it being on January 2nd, not the 1st. Which… the 2nd is Monday.”

“Ooh, you should surprise him!” Chris suggested, taking a sip of his orange juice. “Does he know you’re going back on Monday?” I shook my head.

“I wasn’t sure when I’d be leaving here, so no.”

“Perfect!” Chris hopped off the counter. “Go to the gig and surprise him.”

As I gazed at my brother’s enthusiastic face, a sense of warmth washed over me, as if I were truly at home. He served as a reminder that not all of my family members were unbearable. “I knew there was a reason I keep you in the loop.” I playfully slapped his cheek.

“And because I’m your devoted brother,” he feigned swooning, leaning into me. We embraced for a few minutes, united in our unfortunate situation with our parents. We had to be there for each other whenever possible. It was moments like these that made me feel guilty for leaving him. But he knew I’d always be there, whether physically or over the phone.

With my chin resting on his head and my legs winging off the island, I couldn’t resist teasing him. “You still look like a bloody penguin.”

“Fuck off.”

“Who taught you to speak like that?” I scolded.

“Uh, you?”

“Touché, brother.”