#ex catholic humor

[good-to-drive]

I want to write a medieval monastery au about the beatles where george takes a vow of silence so he doesn't have to talk to paul and ringo gets in trouble for stealing all the communion wine. John is heavily into witchcraft.

[holts-knees]

Stigmata but it's the perfectly matched bruises and scabs I have from my litany of blood draws over the last week

[somany-fandoms-solittle-time]

Yuu raised w/ Christian imagery: "if you don't start BEGGING FOR FORGIVENESS at the count of five, then I'm gonna bring some Old Testiment level punishment on your ass!"

[fromgoy2joy]

me at 17- Fuck religion ! I'm going to eat pepperoni pizza on Friday during lent and I'm NOT going to be ashamed of it.

Me now at 19- uh, yeah. About that... Love the enthusiasm. I do. just to let you know, the ham days are over. And putting any meat on pizza too. How about you just sit down for a second?

[catgirl-soup]

cute date idea: go to a catholic mass and keep reentering the line for communion over and over again to see how many Jesus Cheez-Its you can take before the preist notices

[mytortoisegotstuckinatupperware]

shout out to the religiously traumatized ex-catholics. you can bitch on your old religion as much as you want. you did your time

[squeesquoo]

Whoops 😬

[ddogdeath]

babe they. babe they cut my head off- yes i know i should be dead. yes i can still talk. no i am NOT a cephalophore, they have to- YES they have to canonize me first so i can be a saint-

[mockvangelical]

[mumblingsage]

Speaking of story research, I came across a short book that was somewhat related to my topic but more especially quite funny: Nikolaas Sintobin’s Jesuits Telling Jokes.

Mostly because lots of the jokes are astonishing self-roasts:

So a Franciscan, a Dominican, and a Jesuit all died at the same time and go to heaven. The Franciscan is welcomed by Saint Peter and invited to sit for a meal made especially for him by the best cook in heaven. See Peter also welcomes the Dominican, and a whole team of heavenly cooks prepare an excellent dinner for him. Finally it's the Jesuit’s turn to be welcomed by Saint Peter. But this time, it's Jesus himself who is standing at the stove and preparing the meal. The other two are flabbergasted in protest against the Jesuit’s preferential treatment.

St. Peter explains the situation: "We are full of Franciscans and Dominicans here. But he is the very first Jesuit to arrive in heaven.

And another I really relate to:

A Jesuit arrived in Rome and wanted to go to St. Peter's Basilica. He asked a Dominican to show him the way.

“Father,” said the Dominican, “I'm afraid you'll never find it. It's right in front of you.”

And then there’s:

A Greek Orthodox Christian, a Protestant, and a Jesuit were doing archaeological work together in Jerusalem. While digging, they uncovered a gravestone chiseled with the words: here lies Jesus of Nazareth, who claimed to be king of the Jews and was put to death by Pontius Pilate on the Feast of Passover.

Excited by this discovery, they quickly opened the tomb, only to be dumbstruck when they discovered a crucified body inside.

“Oh no,” said the Orthodox scholar, “the Church and all the good things she has done have been based on a fundamental error.”

“Oh dear,” said the Protestant, “the Bible, which is guided me throughout my whole life, is nothing but a pack of lies...”

“Wow,” said the Jesuit, “Jesus actually existed?”

[all-pacas]

Can you talk more about the whole "Chase and 13 as siblings" deal? I've seen it everywhere,but they seemed more like ordinary friends to me. Neither of them gave me the "found family" vibes.

To be clear, it's totally fanon. They are not found family in canon, they aren't even super good friends. I'm pretty sure it comes from the common perception in fandom that they're House's favorites/the ones who view him and/or are viewed by him as his children. Which I guess makes them siblings? (I don't even think, technically speaking, that's true — House doesn't think of either of them as his kids tbh.) I am a huge enjoyer of it, though, so I can only give my reasoning; the short version is I think they have a lot of potential in this direction.

So first of all, the two of them are like. Lowkey so alike. Like the venn diagram of them is sort of just a circle. They both had traumatic family histories involving mothers who died young and who they resented/'hated.' They're both intensely private people, 13 going ahead and making that a meme but Chase just as good at it as she is. They both have histories on the show of sleeping around and engaging in reckless behaviors as a reaction to depression/trauma; they do both have close relationships with House, I think it's overstated a little in fandom but it's also true; House and 13 are obviously very close but Chase has a whole pair of S8 episodes highlighting the same; he's also the fellow House has known the longest, who stayed the longest. They're both perceptive and bright and have similar senses of humor.

As you said, they are friends. They enjoy one another's company, we see they have fun hanging out. 13 alludes to going drinking with Chase sometimes in Last Temptation. After Hours proves that Chase knows where 13 lives, that she can call him past midnight and he'll show up no questions asked. Despite both being super private and secretive, they know one another's darkest secrets: Chase is the only person besides House 13 has told about killing her brother and going to prison. 13 is the only person besides Cameron Chase has told about Dibala. (House and Foreman figured that one out on their own. Also, last time he told someone it ended his marriage, so it's kind of Insane he tells 13. Like. Wow.) 13 went a year not telling anyone her name, Chase wouldn't even confirm he was catholic when House guessed it, and yet these two tell one another things. Even in Private Lives, before they really knew one another, Chase and 13 were having serious heart-to-hearts about the divorce and whether or not Chase was pretty; these just… aren't conversations he, at least, has with other people.

Also, let's be frank. The show was setting them up to fuck. I think some of this is meant to be ship tease, in all honesty. Chase outright propositions her. One of their earliest bonding episodes is Private Lives, which has a sort of flirty bit at the end and is all about their failed romances. But thankfully — because we all know how much the show sucks at romance — it never happened. So what we're left with is two characters who are weirdly close, have a weird amount of heart to heart moments and bonding (like… compare Foreman and Chase, who have known one another forever but never have these sort of sincere 'moments'), and are incredibly similar. And who also are often framed specifically as 'House's children,' if not as as unit: Chase is the prodigal son, 13 calls herself the prodigal daughter. 'siblings' make sense. People also don't really like to ship them, myself included, although tbh they make a good amount of sense on paper. Maybe because of the built in messiness (she's Foreman's ex, technically; she leaves the show for long stretches; the show sucks at romance), maybe because people love found family, maybe because folks definitely prefer to lean into 13 dating women. And because people don't want to think of them as romantic options for one another, how do you define a relationship between a pair of very attractive people without letting that be a factor? Make them siblings!

For what it's worth, I don't actually think they're siblings, or that they think of one another as that. I think they're good friends. But they're also so alike, and open up to one another in pretty unique ways (especially for Chase), and get along well. In a weird way, I think the fact that they probably were attracted to one another and could have slept together but didn't makes them closer in my eyes: they both sleep around at the first chance, so that they didn't (by chance or choice) means they got to build an entirely different relationship. They're both lonely, they've both outlived family, they're both lowkey sort of depressed. And the idea that they could have a family in one another (Chase, for one, admits in S8 he pretty badly would like one) just really appeals to me. (With the added tragedy, of course, that it could only last a decade or so) I think they're good for one another, in that they have a "no questions asked" friendship, they know one another's worst secrets, and those secrets run parallel enough that they get it. And so even though they aren't siblings… I kinda want them to be, you know? :)

[rosiesramblings]

Anon I don't know what you're talking about that is a top tier proudest moment 10/10

re-reading your chrissy/robin fic, i saw the "st femslash" tag and thought for a second you were offering the fic up to the patron saint of femslash? only to realise a second later it stood for stranger things! not my proudest moment

lmfaooo!!!!! if there is a saint of femslash i humbly offer all of my sapphic fics to Her💓✨

[thesullengrrrl]

We'll Meet Again - Epilogue 2

Months after the Nuremberg trials, Rosie still has one final person to face.

A/N: Hello! Thought you've seen the last of this little old fic haha. Here's another epilogue because I wanted to explore another ending with these two idiots (affectionate). You can read it here in AO3 :) Thank you for being here and I hope you enjoy this. Now on to the chapter! 👀💜

Chapter 8 - 'til there was you

December 1946

Brooklyn, New York

“You can’t keep staying here on weekends, Bob.”

Mrs. Rosenthal is tired of seeing her son being in her house on Saturday mornings—reading the newspapers, bringing his cases or helping her with plumbing or other chores. 

Don’t get her wrong, she’s glad to have a man in the house after her husband’s death, and Bob was reliable. But when her son got back from the war and the trials, she knew that he had to settle down. He can’t live by himself in his bachelor apartment at this age forever.

“Are you seeing someone, ma?” Rosie snickered, flipping a page from his copy of Frankenstein. “That’s why you want the apartment all by yourself?”

“You know there is no one who could replace your father,” Mrs. Rosenthal answered loudly, as if Rosie’s blunder offended every ancestor they had. “But you are almost thirty. I am running out of nice girls to pair with you!” 

“Well…I think I haven’t found her yet.” 

“Your sister is engaged, Robert!” she huffed. 

His mother and her endless matchmaking. A week after he got back from Nuremberg, she slowly executed her plan. He was his mother’s plus one at every party, dinner, and gathering. And at each event, a woman of his age would ‘bump’ into him, or an older woman who would claim to be his mother’s friend would introduce their daughter to him.

Rosie was a gentleman to every girl introduced to him. He talked to them, listened to them, and yes, asked them out on dates. However, it all stops at the second or third date—the girl speaks too loudly, or can’t banter well, those who take it too seriously, bad breath…some of these may seem petty which, sometimes he feels bad about. They’re all interesting women, but something isn’t clicking with him. 

He once contemplated moving to another state then maybe he could find someone. His mother freaked when he told him. 

“Bob, haven’t you met anyone in that wretched club of Minty’s?” Mrs. Rosenthal questioned, sitting beside him. “There has to be someone attractive in there!” 

There was once someone attractive to him there, all right. He could still remember her in that red dress in his mind as if it was yesterday. Her telling him how she eavesdropped on his ex-girlfriend crying over him, her face as she yelled expletives to someone who tried to touch her, and how she extended her hand to ask him to dance. 

Sometimes, he would ask Minty if she visited. The old man could only shake his head and tell him that he’s expecting the woman as well. 

“Minty told me you met someone before the war,” Mrs. Rosenthal told him. 

“I think you’re spending an awful time with Minty and his wife,” Rosie deflected, now too distracted to read his book and laid it on the nearest table.

“I saw the picture, Bob,” she revealed. “Sandra showed me.”

Rosie gave her mother a nervous look.

“She’s pretty, but is she even American? She doesn’t look like one to me.” 

“Yes, as far as I know. Although she may have an English father?” Rosie told her in an unsure voice. “But she’s from New York. Also a Catholic, if that helps.”

Mrs. Rosenthal dreamed for his son to marry a nice Jewish girl from their neighborhood. However, at this point, she’ll humor her son to whoever he fancies. Until probably when she meets this mystery woman. 

“Is she nice?” 

Rosie frowned. “Why do you ask?”

“Can’t a mother be curious about a woman who caught her son’s attention?” Mrs. Rosenthal countered. 

“Well, she’s…different. She is pretty, of course, but there’s something I can’t pinpoint. She swears a little, she can be casual about things that it made me a little worried when we were in England—” 

“Aha!” Mrs. Rosenthal exclaimed. “You saw her again during the war?” 

They did more than that. 

Rosie just walked into his mother’s trap. “Yes, ma. Then she told me it would never work between us, so it ended there.” 

“Then what did you do?” 

“I let her be and told her maybe I’ll see her in New York,” Rosie answered. “And she said that maybe she’ll see me.”

“And…you didn’t seek her out?” she asked. 

“No…” Rosie trailed off. 

“The war’s over, Robert,” Mrs. Rosenthal reminded him. “Did you not even, I don’t know, try?” 

“I don’t even know where to seek her out,” he complained, placing a hand in his temple. “All I got is her name.” 

“Sometimes, a name is all you need,” Mrs. Rosenthal commented, finally standing up, and letting her son connect the dots.

************

And seek, he did. He asked his friends around if they knew someone named Elaine Byrne. When reading the newspaper, he would scour the engagements, weddings, and obituary sections. Nothing. No Elaine Byrne. 

It was a fool’s errand. A person who doesn’t want to be found will never appear. He stopped asking around. But he continued to read the newspapers, with a little prayer that her name would pop out. 

One time while he was on his way home, he stopped by the deli to get dinner to take home. While lining up, she saw a woman with the same build and coat as her, choosing what bread to buy. Rosie could’ve sworn that her eyes widened at the sight of him before she went back on the bread items.

The cashier’s voice tore his attention away from the woman, and he rushed to dig into his pockets to pay. When he turned to see if she was still there, the ring of the door’s chimes filled the air. She was gone. 

For a moment, he let himself believe it was her. He entertained the tiniest possibility that she may be on his side of the city, bidding for her time to appear.   

************

Minty rang Rosie about a new band that would be performing in his club. Without any date or engagement to go to that night,  agreed and found himself in Minton’s one Saturday night. 

It was a win-win for both men—Minty knows that the man knows his jazz, what sounded good, while he gets to enjoy new music. Rosie sat there almost like a newspaper critic, his back leaned to the chair, his fingers tapping at the table rhythmically. 

“What do you think, Rosie?” Minty asked. 

“They’re pretty good,” he simply replied. “Maybe it’s because they’re starting out, but I’m looking for something, maybe a bit more stronger sound? I don’t know, maybe I’m just being nitpicky.” 

The older man snorted at his last sentence. “You’re being nitpicky, all right. I asked around and they think this band’s got it.” 

Rosie only nodded. 

“Did your mother set you up on a date again?” the older man asked, knowing the laments of his mother whenever they invite her to afternoon tea.

Rosie shook his head. “I think she gave up.”

“For now,” Minty shrugged, earning a laugh from the younger man. 

“She’s worried that your sister Hannah will get married before you,” he said. “She is engaged right?” 

“Yes, to David Bergman. An accountant in some insurance firm,” he informed him. “He’s nice, a gentleman. Ma likes him.” 

“Haven’t you really found anyone, boy? How about that girl, Elaine?” 

Oh, Elaine. For some reason, he held on to the flimsy promise of ‘maybe’ she told him that day they said goodbye at the train station. Every mission, he told himself that if he comes back alive, she’ll be in New York waiting for him. It was silly and untrue and yet, effective. He did come home alive.

“She’s long gone, Minty,” Rosie whispered, swirling his glass. “You know that.” 

“You’ll never know who’s going to walk here next,” Minty told him. “Speaking of, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” 

The younger man gave him a grim look. “Come on. Not you too, Minty.” 

“What? Have you seen anyone you like?” he asked, his hand pointing to the crowd. “Just say the word, and I’ll have a waiter send a drink for them.”

“Minty, when you say it like that, it sounds like I’m a brothel.” 

He laughed at him. “Now, boy. I’m not sure if that girl has arrived, but—” 

“Mint, I’m tired of seeing anyone, all right?” Rosie cut him off. “I know Ma’s getting tired of it too. How many Jewish girls could there be that Ma hasn’t set me up with?” 

Minty ignored him and suddenly stood from his seat. 

“Ah, there she is! Over here, doll!” He yelled, waving at someone behind him. Rosie did not bother to turn at whoever that is, knowing that he would only be disappointed at the end of the night. Why is everyone up to his business when it comes to dating? 

He drank from his glass and continued watching the band who’s now performing a slow love song. 

“Minty, I’m sorry I’m late,” the voice said. “I fell asleep, can you believe that!”

His eyebrows furrowed, wondering where he heard that voice before. 

“I was about to ask Sandra to knock on your door. Never mind, you’re here. Sit, sit,” Minty assured the woman. 

When he heard the scrape of the chair, he turned and saw her. The neatly styled brown hair with curls, the red lips, the hazel green eyes, and the thin scar below her hairline…the smile he knew so well, that it felt like he was back in 1941.

It couldn’t be. How could it be? 

“Is this seat taken?” 

Minty smirked at Rosie’s dumbfounded reaction. “Don’t gawk at her! She’s asking you a question!” 

“Um,” Rosie cleared his throat. “No, it’s all yours.” 

Elaine nodded and sat beside him. Minty told the two that he’ll be back with the drinks that he promised Rosie. 

“Hello, Rosie,” she greeted. “It’s been a while.” 

“Yes…it’s been a while,” he agreed, still couldn’t believe that she was here—in flesh and blood. 

A waiter came and served them two glasses of martini. Elaine thanked him and went back to Rosie, who was still looking at her. “I’m not gonna disappear until like midnight, you know.” 

Rosie blushed. “I’m sorry, it’s just…you’re here. I can’t believe it.” 

“Well, you better believe it.” 

Jaunty music from the band filled the atmosphere. Couples started gathering on the dance floor. Elaine smirked at him. 

“Don’t tell me I’m gonna have to ask you on this one?” 

************

At a distance, in a corner table a few meters away from them, were Sandra, Mrs. Rosenthal, Hannah Rosenthal and David Bergman. Minty made his way over to them after instructing the barkeep to give drinks to the two. He sat beside his wife. 

“How’s the spying so far?” Minty asked as he kissed his wife’s cheek.

“That’s her?” Mrs. Rosenthal asked, careening her head to take another look at the woman who’s now chuckling with her son. 

“Oh, ma! Judging her this early?” Hannah quipped. “Looks like they’re having fun already.”

“She's a little bit eccentric, with all those records she has been playing at weekends, but a nice girl,” Sandra informed them. “One time, she made us lasagna as a thank you. It was good, Rose!” 

“It looks like they’re about to dance,” David added, sipping a drink. 

They watched the two make their way to the dance floor and gradually move with the beat of what the band was playing. Hannah always thought that her brother didn’t really know how to dance—she always thought he was a bit too heavy for it, but with her, he moved smoothly. It’s like he knows to do it with her, for her. She snickered when the woman twirled him, then they laughed. 

Oh, brother.

“Have they known each other for long?” David asked Hannah. 

“I think they know each other long enough to be that comfortable with each other.” 

Rose watched her son laugh and dance comfortably with the woman, and that may be the first time she saw him that way with anyone. 

She once asked herself if her matchmaking had gotten rusty with her son. With this scene before her, now she knows why it never worked for him. 

Robert was waiting for someone.

“She looks good with your brother,” Rose finally commented. “I hope she truly is.”

************

The band now played a slow tune. Rosie rested his arms where it should be, and Elaine followed suit. They slowly swayed to the music, now only looking at each other. 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Rosie breathed.

“I am,” Elaine confirmed, chuckling softly. “And we’re in Minton’s again.” 

“We are.” 

“Minty said you just came from Germany, how was it?” she asked, genuinely curious. 

“It was…riveting, scenic…a bit intense,” he replied. “I can’t believe I got in and interrogated Hermann Göring and his cohorts.”

“Bombing and prosecuting Nazis? Your mother must be kvelling.” 

“Learning Yiddish now?” he wondered.

“Don’t get all flattered,” Elaine warned him playfully. “It’s the only word I know.” 

“How have you been?” Rosie asked. 

“I moved above the club three weeks ago,” she told him. “Sandra and Minty are great landlords. Well, I’m their only renter.” 

His eyes widened at this information. “You’ve been here for three weeks now? So it must be you in the deli—” 

“Picking bread?” she completed his question.“That was me. I just wasn’t ready to say hi to you at the time.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know. I did hurt your feelings, remember?” 

Rosie nodded, now understanding. “Well, if it helps…I’ve forgiven you. You weren’t certain, a war was going on…I get it now. Don’t worry.” 

“All right, then,” she smiled. 

He pulled her closer to him, and she rested her cheek on his shoulder. Rosie missed her, especially when he finally got to the base. Their pictures were tucked in the same copy of Of Mice and Men. When the war ended, he cut off his favorite strip and placed it on his wallet. He told himself that he would remove it the moment he marries someone else. 

“So I guess I don’t have to walk you home every time,” Rosie mused, smiling at her. 

“Every time?” Elaine wondered. “I don’t understand.” 

“I, uh…I know it’s quite early for tonight to say this but can I see you after tonight? Tomorrow?” 

Rosie swallowed a lump of his throat. He was nervous about asking it, since what if she already had a boyfriend? But then, Minty wouldn’t make them meet if she’s attached, surely? What if she says no? 

Elaine removed her hand from his hold and placed a finger in between his eyebrows. “You’re thinking this too much.” 

“Well, yes, I mean…I had to ask.” 

She nodded. “Right. But before I answer that, can I talk to you about something? This is really important before we make any steps after tonight.” 

He felt a bead of sweat form on his temple. His stomach warmed up. What is it this time? Would she break things off again? Did he get her pregnant in England? And do they now have a 3-year-old sleeping alone above the club? 

“Don’t worry,” Elaine said, rubbing his arm. “We can talk in the alley, it’s pretty private there.”

He exhaled and agreed to be led out by Elaine through the kitchen. Some of the staff said hello to her and she greeted them back. Luckily for them, there was no one in the alley. It was only her, him, and the empty trash cans. 

“I need you to not ask questions until I finish my story, okay?” Elaine instructed him with her hands on her waist. “Just listen to me. And I’ll answer your questions later, all right?” She stared at him with such a serious face, probably the most serious he could remember.

Despite feeling a bit scared with this Elaine in front of him, he nodded and motioned for her to continue. 

She exhaled and started. “I’m…I’m a time traveler, Rosie. I’m from 2029. The night we met, I wasn’t supposed to be there. I got there by accident. Then two years later, your letter came and I wanted to see you, so I went. Then we said goodbye. And now, I’m here.”

He waited for her to laugh, to tell him that it was just a joke and ask him to get back with her inside. Instead, he was met by her uncertain gaze—whether it’s fear or anxiety, he can’t be sure.

But the laughter never came. 

Rosie could only hear his heart pounding on his ear. All the questions he had in his head came back and it dawned on him—her casual attitude, her swearing, her actions that seem a bit out of place…all because she wasn’t from here. 

“Did you go back for me?” he asked, his voice a little shaky from what he just heard from her.

Elaine nodded in confirmation. “Yes.”

“Are you going to leave again this time?” he pressed.

“If you’ll have me, then I won’t,” she answered, trying to keep her voice steady.

Silence fell between the two. 

Elaine kept a straight face, but Rosie could see in her eyes the anticipation of what he was about to say. Fear? Rejection? 

“Then that’s all I needed to hear from you, Elaine Byrne,” Rosie declared, striding towards her and enveloping her in his arms. She returned the embrace, her face at the crook of his neck. 

“I missed you, you know,” Rosie whispered. “For a moment there, I thought you were going to tell me I got you pregnant.” 

Elaine chuckled against the crook of his neck. “No, we’re safe in that area, don’t worry.” 

She started to wipe her tears but Rosie took her hand and wiped it with his handkerchief. She smiled at him and led him back. They were greeted by sly looks from the staff. Rosie was embarrassed, while Elaine just brushed them off and pulled him until they reached the main hall. A pair of glasses with fresh cocktails were waiting for them. 

“You do know that we’re being spied on?” Elaine revealed. “One o’clock, behind you.” 

Rosie looked and there were the spies—Mr. and Mrs. Minton, his mother, his sister Hannah and David. He rubbed a hand on his face. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Rosie groaned. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay,” she assured him, rubbing his shoulder. “I think we should go over there. Say hi.” 

He agreed and she led him to the older adults’ table. Mrs. Rosenthal smiled at Elaine, studying her like a hawk as she interacted with the others. Sandra asked a waiter to add more chairs for the couple, while Minty called for more drinks. 

Within a few minutes, everyone was having fun. Hannah seemingly found an older sister with Elaine, and they ended up dancing together on the dance floor along with David. The trio looked silly, but they were the ones having the most fun. 

Rosie moved his gaze to his mother, who caught him in time. She smiled reassuringly at him. 

************

Days following that night in Minton’s, at exactly 5 o’clock, Rosie would rush out of the firm to make his way to fetch Elaine at the Times’ office. A smile would form in his face when she appeared at the lobby. Then, they would walk arm in arm and tell each other stories of their days. 

Usually, they would wind up in St. Nicholas Park, where they have a usual bench and simply talk or share a sandwich. Sometimes, when it’s their payday, they would visit a nice restaurant they’ve read about. Rosie learned her interest in stand up comedy, while Elaine suggested visiting hole in the wall jazz bars that her workmates recommended to her. 

This has become their routine for the next few weeks.

One night, when he walked her home to Minton’s, Elaine said something that surprised both of them. 

“So, we’re here,” Rosie said, pulling her closer to him. “I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?” 

He gently pressed his lips against hers. When they parted, she smiled at him and patted his cheek. “See you tomorrow. I love you.” 

Both of their eyes widened at what she just said. Rosie then slowly smiled at her, both delighted and amused with Elaine’s sudden consciousness about it. 

“You love me, Elaine?” he smirked.

“Yes, I love you,” she confirmed. “I know it’s probably too early—” 

“I love you, too.” 

**********

Rosie popped the question two weeks after Valentine’s. It was snowing and the two of them were rather too comfortable on the couch to move or venture out. They were reading on the opposite side of the couch with a blanket over them. 

She was reading his copy of Persuasion, while he was reviewing a case that he took home. Seeing as she was too busy reading and writing at the book, he stood under the guise of getting some water.

When he sat back, he was nervously twiddling at the small box inside his cardigan pocket. If it comes to worst, if she rejects him, it would only be the two of them. 

Rosie watched her flip the pages, her eyes concentrated on the book. Pushing the possible scenarios from his head, he cleared his throat. “Elaine. Will you look at me for a second?” 

“Yeah, sure.”

She put the book aside and when she turned to him, a small black velvet box greeted her. Her eyes widened, her mouth fell open at this sight of him. He opened the box and it revealed a thin gold band with a round opal stone. The ring contrasted the black velvet box and showed faint different colors.

“Will you marry me, Elaine Byrne?” Rosie asked, his voice was calm yet with a hint of nervousness to it.

“Are you sure about this?”

“I am sure,” he nodded. “All I know is I love you and I want to spend the rest of my days with you.”

“You know I’m not going to be a housewife,” Elaine countered. “I’ll stay at my job.”

“I know,” he smiled. “You like being a copy editor. I’m not going to make you stop working unless you want to.”

“We'll have different opinions on things. We’re gonna be arguing on small things, big decisions, all that jazz.”

“As every couple does every once in a while. I mean, we just argued on which brand of laundry soap to use,” Rosie reminded her, smiling at the memory earlier today.

“What if I want to visit my parents? Or Bunny?” Elaine asked, her voice slightly shaking. 

“Then I’ll wait for you here,” Rosie assured her. “Or follow you, if that’s allowed.”

Elaine seemed to be moved by his words and held his free hand. “You really thought about this, huh?” 

“I didn’t get to say anything last time, remember?” Rosie said, kissing her hand. “So…will you, Elaine? Marry me?” 

This time, Elaine finally nodded. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Robert Rosenthal.”

Rosie slipped the ring in her finger and Elaine wrapped her arms around his neck and captured his lips with hers. She never thought that one night of accidentally time traveling would lead her to him—the man she would want to spend her life with. 

He pulled back from their kiss, both breathless and excited. “We gotta stop before we have a baby before the wedding.” 

Elaine laughed, and motioned him to rest on her chest. He did and she ran his fingers through his hair, a favorite thing she liked to do whenever they cuddled. 

“Where do you want to get married?” Rosie wondered. “I mean, we have to save up if you want a church wedding.” 

“I don’t think your mother will want us to get married in a Catholic church,” Elaine said. “You’re her eldest son, I’m sure she’d want you to get married in a traditional Jewish ceremony.” 

“Well, you’re the bride-to-be,” he replied, taking her hand. “‘Happy wife, happy life’, as I heard those old lawyers in the firm say.”

A bulb lit in Elaine’s head. “I got an idea.”

************

New York Post

March 12, 1947

Mrs. Rose Rosenthal of Flatbush, New York is pleased to announce the marriage of her son Mr. Robert Rosenthal to Miss Elaine Byrne, the daughter of Mr. Harry ‘Hal’ Byrne of Kensington, England and Mrs. Alice Halford of West End, Connecticut. The two were wed in the New York County Courthouse on March 11, 1947. 

After reading the announcement, Elaine folded the newspaper and laid it on the table. She saw Rosie watching her, and raised an eyebrow. 

“You like what you see, Mr. Rosenthal?” she asked. 

Rosie carefully laid his cup of coffee and leaned his back on the chair. His eyes trailed on her, pleased that she’s wearing his pajama flannel top over her body. Her hair was tied in a messy ponytail, with some strands falling on her face, framing it. 

“Is this what you always look like in the morning, Mrs. Rosenthal?” he countered, his eyes with a hint of wonder and teasing.

“Yes, regretting things now?” 

“No,” he shook his head, smiling. “I think you’re spectacular.”

[httyddragonfox]

Hazbin Hotel: Christianity slams vs My Defense

Let's get one thing straight first: I'm a fan of the show. It has an awesome person with my own sexuality in the cast (Alastor). It's not a constant string of dark humor and cussing and actually has a well concocted story with well built characters, unlike south park and family guy.

Of course...I am a christian. I've seen so people react to this that say "This is why Christianity is awful!" Ah ha ha...

I feel like I need to defend myself.

Yes, some branches of Christianity are very bigoted, strict, bias, and just horrible. I don't like associating with those people.

First of all: I'm protestant.

There's catholic and protestant.

Catholic believe in the trinity, and strict following of the bible and church going, of course they also believe the pope is someone who's word is god send, and do whatever their priests say will absolve them of their sins and get them and get them into heaven.

Protestants formed because they believed that people don't have the right to judge or absolve us, only god has that power. They are more believers of following religion and being devout on your own terms, that's why everyone has their own bible to read. Praying is more select and can be done whenever, anything to connect us to god.

Now for the sub branch, as some sub-branches of Protestantism are still pretty strict (I'm looking at you, 'god-fearing baptists')

My branch is called 'the United,' formed when several branches merged into one church. It's mainly Presbyterianism with some stuff added on, I still think Presbyterianism can be a bit strict, that's why I like my branch so much.

My branch considers you apart of the community even if you don't go to church all the time. They won't be mad at you if you don't go to sermons. You're allowed to pray at your own leisure and your own preference, I usually just give a dinner prayer every night.

They like it when you ask questions, because our main teaching is that the bible is interpretive. It was written a long time ago by people who had different views than we do today.

Our branch is super accepting of others, we don't even discuss the prospect of going to hell, so I'm starting to think we don't believe in it. If one is suffering, we don't blame them for their own suffering, we teach them god will still be there for them in their darkest moments.

Yes, my church is called the trinity, but I'm not sure how much we believe in it as we don't talk about it much. I grew up thinking Jesus was just God's son, like a demigod. Yeah, Jesus saved us, but we were taught he saved us from the strict society at the time who would kill people for the slightest moral wrong.

I grew up thinking the devil had nothing to do with the fall of man and it was just a snake being a jerk. I grew up thinking the devil and Satan worked for god to test people's faith and thus were not bad.

We don't uphold all the sacraments, just the bread and "wine" and Communion, not to mention baptism (it's not to save us from sin, it's to welcome us into the church. We don't believe in original sin).

My branch is about unconditional love and acceptance, taking religion in your own stride. We are taught to be a good person, that's all that matters. The commandments are an important lesson, (i.e. don't kill, don't steal, no adultery, don't lie, respect your parents and authority, ex).

Yeah my church upheld COVID laws, but that's because they didn't want their congregation getting sick. My mom and dad are pissy about it because they're anti government. I still have faith in them though.

TL;DR, People in the Hazbin hotel community say Christianity is the worst and full of bigoted, bias hypocrites. Don't hate on me please, because my church does preach unconditional love and acceptance.

[lilphve]

why can’t I be normal or happy? its so unfair every one is happy and has friends and is accepted its not fair why am I never happy why am I always nervous why am I always stressed why am I queer or genderqueer why can’t I be out to some people why do I have to hide myself why do I have to constantly try to convince myself that I’m okay and happy cause I’m not I’m not happy and it’s not fair I want irl friends I want to be liked I wanna have fun I wanna enjoy life so why can’t I its not fair some of the worst people have friends and support and are happy so why not me why do I have to spend every day prepared to be killed or hurt or insulted for my sexuality or gender why do I have to live in fear I’ll bump into a certain person why do I have to live in fear that everyone hates me why do I its not fucking fair I want friends I want love I want everything everyone has cause its not fair hell even pedophiles have friends but not me bullies have friends terrible people have friends but not me how is that fair and I can’t even mention it to someone cause they always say “You want friends too much you won’t get them” or “maybe that’s what god wants” its not fair why do I have to live in fear that I’m sinning and gonna burn in hell when it doesn’t even relate with my beliefs why do I always feel the need to correct someone and let them know I’m not a boy knowing how happy it makes me feel why do I always have to be so sexual why must I depend on others to make me feel even slightly happy why do I go through my exes texts hoping to feel better why am I losing friends why do I not care for any one except for like 5 people why am I so quiet why am I so loud why do I talk so much why do I not talk enough why do I always want more why am I always so ungrateful to a point even my mom tells me it to my face with all honesty why am I so useless why am I so hurtful and mean and hate filled why am I never satisfied why am I always angry why am I so curious why did I let him do that to me and not tell anyone why do I have to be so different I just wanna be normal I wanna be feminine and blonde and have blue eyes and long straight hair and friends and be Christian or catholic and be loved by everyone and be straight and cis and normal and happy why can’t I have that why do I have to be the way I am why do I wanna kill myself all the time why am I too afraid to even kill myself why am I always overthinking why am I always over analyzing why is my safe place my phone why do I cry when I don’t have my headphones why am I so sensitive to sound am I faking it am I just a pick me whose faking being sensitive just because does everyone hate me why do my friends care more for my bullies than me why does no one understand how I feel and whenever someone does they’re older than me and from another state its not fair I NEED friends even my therapist said so why won’t my mom take me to that place for other LGBTQIAP+ kids when that might be exactly what I need why am I so scared to kill myself why am I so scared to live why am I so scared to love why do I not know what love is why can’t I be happy why can’t I be sad why can’t I be nervous why can’t a feel why can I feel so much why am I always alone why do I always feel alone why do I always feel this weird dark gaping empty hole inside me why can’t I be happy I have a few friends who might genuinely care for me why do I ignore their feelings why can’t I feel their feelings why do bullies hate me so much they’re gay too they’re black too they’re single too they have trauma too we have the same humor why do they hate me was it something I said something I did did I breathe to loud too quiet do I need to think slower to I need to be more closer minded why do I upset those around me why don’t I love myself why can’t I go to my mom without her not listening to me why won’t she listen to me why does she try to blame everything on god rather than realizing there’s ways she could help why is she all of the sudden worried about me going somewhere on a Sundays night because “its a school night” knowi she makes

[mockvangelical]