#mrs. grant withers

[from1837to1945]

Despite the fact, that Mrs. Inez Withers of Los Angeles was testifying in a Los Angeles Court, in a effort to obtain a divorce, she did not propose to have anyone slander her husband, as became clear when she testified that he was a "great actor" and remarkably capable and talented. Granville Withers, the subject of Mrs. Withers' remarkable paradoxial testimony, is a film player and, according to his wife's testimony, is suffucuently successful to make $400 a week. The photo shows Mrs. Withers, who seems to be her husband's ardent admirer despite her divorce suit.

-Dec 21, 1925.

Actor Withers' loses second wife and sued by first.

Grant Withers, the "Happiest man alive" only yesterday after completion of his aerial elopement to Yuma, Arizona with Loretta Young wasn't even making a pretense of happiness today. The mother of bride number two has started proceedings for an annulment and wife number one prepares suit for alimoney to support herself and sick son of the actor. She wants an increase of 240.00 per month. Withers also figured in a traffic accident the night of his second marriage resulting in the injury of four (? ?) youths.

This photo shows Mrs. Inez Withers & son, Robert Granville.

-Jan 27, 1930.

[badmovieihave]

Bad movie I have Tv Classics It Has 14 TV episodes 7 Dragnet 1951 -1959 , 1 Burke's Law 1963-1966, 2 Peter Gunn 1958-1961, 2 Richard Diamond 1957-1960, 1 Mr.Wong, Detective 1938, and 1 Bulldog Drummond 1929

[laughingcrass]

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙵𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝙷𝚘𝚞𝚛 (𝟷𝟿𝟺𝟶)

[hannahbarberra162]

Hysteria (Yandere Marco x Reader, Victorian AU, DARK, non-con)

Summary: Marco "The Phoenix" Newgate is intent on making you his wife, regardless of what you think about the matter.

TW: Dark, DEAD DOVE, non con, yandere, misogyny, bad medicine / malpractice. There will be more partners but not in this chapter.

A continuation of a One Shot I wrote - couldn't stop thinking about Victorian Marco. There's also this sexy Detective Marco statue that didn't help me forget Victorian Marco.

“Dear, do be serious for a moment. You already said yes ,” you mother hissed into her teacup while sporting a smile, trying to hide her words from your suitor. Doctor Newgate, or Marco as he asked you to call him, had a benign smile on his face and his eyes half lidded. He was sitting on the settee in your parents parlor, his long legs crossed as he drank his tea. Even though you were sure he could hear, he was granting your parents the social mercy of pretending he couldn’t. 

Mr. Newgate, his father, was sitting in the largest chair in the parlor, smoking a pipe like he was relaxing in his own home. He hadn’t said anything beyond an introduction, allowing Marco to take the lead. He was easily the largest man you’d ever seen in your life, his mere presence making the room seem smaller by comparison. Even though it was your parents house, with Newgate in the room it was like it was his world and you were just living in it. Mr. Newgate hadn’t given you more than a nod but he unnerved you. Not like Marco who scared you, more like the feeling one got when staring at a mountain or the ocean - the feeling of insignificance in the face of something ancient and powerful. 

“Please, give us a moment to speak to our daughter in private. She is joking, you know how these silly young women are,” your father said with a nervous laugh, his hand clapping heavily on your shoulder and gripping tightly. You tried to hide your wince as his hand squeezed bruises already left behind due to your previous refusals. Marco’s eyebrow raised pointedly at your father’s aggression, making your father pale and release his hand from your shoulder. “With your permission of course, Dr. Newgate,” your father stammered as Marco exchanged a glance with his father, who nodded wordlessly. Some kind of communication had passed between them but you didn’t understand what it was. You did feel some sense of satisfaction watching your father wither under Dr. Newgate’s gaze but you knew it wouldn’t save you from the lecture - or worse - you were about to receive in private.

Your father and mother were ultimately selfish, self centered people. Even though you’d told them time and time again that you didn’t like Marco Newgate and that you didn’t want to marry him, they were forcing your hand. They wanted you to marry into wealth and a connected family which would increase their own social standing. You had adamantly refused to marry him and they couldn’t legally force you unless you were declared incompetent in some kind of way. Yes, he was trying to coerce you by force but without a diagnosis of some kind of insanity, you just had to stay strong and refuse. Since you were a woman of society, you didn’t see how that would be possible. You had friends, kept up with the local social scene, and even volunteered in your free time and as such you were able to reject any offer for marriage that you deemed unsatisfactory. And Marco Newgate was unsatisfactory to your tastes.

It was true that he was tall, handsome, wealthy and very intelligent. He was able to move among all echelons of society with ease, switching from speaking casually with tavern goers to speaking with the Emperor himself as a medical advisor on occasion. He was debonair, suave, charming - everything everyone wanted to be. Your girlfriends told you that you were the world's biggest fool for denying his advances.

But you knew that all the glamour and prestige, Marco was a predatory beast. You knew it with all your heart. It felt like no one could see it but you, everyone sang his praises and tittered with joy when he came around. His eyes shined a touch too bright, his smile a bit too wide, his teeth a tad too sharp to convince you of his character of the charismatic doctor. It was like a game to him - he knew that you knew and both of you had your roles to play.  

Your parents thought you’d met Marco for the first time when he began courting you, but the truth was that you’d met long before as young adults. You’d been strolling along a country stream one day after having given your governess the slip. Normally you didn’t mind your lessons all that much but the day had been the perfect summer day, the warm sun shining down as a light breeze pushed your hair out of your face. You thought you were alone so you stripped down to your petticoat, a light cotton shift, and left your shoes, heavier dress, and parasol under the shade of a tree. You let down your hair, freeing it from the confines you had to regularly tame it into. The joys of childhood had just passed you now that you were a woman but a part of your soul missed the simple pleasure of being free in body and mind under the summer sun. 

You eventually sat down on the grassy bank, kicking your feet slowly in the cool water. You’d been down this path hundreds of times before and you were well familiar with this portion of the river. Laying back with your arms behind your head against the lush grass you enjoyed watching the clouds roll by in the sky. You watched until your eyes slid closed of their own volition. You weren’t exactly sleeping, you were merely resting under the rich summer sun and enjoying the bounties of life itself.

You felt the sun disappear and you frowned. There hadn’t been that many clouds when you’d last looked, not enough to cover the sun. Opening your eyes had you gasping in fright as you saw a handsome young man leaning over you. His short mop of blonde hair was hanging down as he considered your form. You tried to scramble up but your head jerked back harshly as you realized the man was standing on your loose hair. He was staring at you intensely, his expression somewhere in between interest and amusement. As you crossed your arms over your chest to cover your near nudity you noticed that the silver ferrule of his cane was centimeters from your face. It wasn’t becoming for a young woman to be practically naked and especially not in front of a young man, the situation was making you flush furiously.

“Please sir, you’re standing on my hair,” you said to the young man. He was around your age but you hadn’t met him before nor seen him in society. There were plenty of families coming and going all the time in your city, it was a busy mercantile area. It wasn’t unusual for new members to drop in as the social landscape changed.

“So I am yoi,” the man replied, his gaze never leaving your face as you felt yourself flushing deeper. You’d never been allowed so close to a man you weren’t related to and this was not how you expected it to happen.

“Please sir, would you mind moving?” you asked politely, his strange reply not at all what you were expecting. 

“I would,” he replied, your hair still underneath his leather boot. A teal feather floated down from his coat and he plucked it from the air between two fingers. He was upside down to your vision and you tried to tilt your head as far as you could to get a good look at him.

“I-I’m sorry?” you stammered with a half smile, not understanding the situation that was unfolding. The young man had a gleam in his eye that you didn’t like, something dark and terrible lurking just under the surface.

“I would mind moving. I quite like you trapped beneath me,” the man said with a smile, as if the two of you were discussing the weather. Your smile faded as you understood the reality of the situation. You felt your heart began to race as you thought through your situation. You’d chosen this path due to the low numbers of people who used it for the purpose of evading your governess. Now you were alone with a strange man who seemed perfectly pleased to have you ensnared.

“Ah, Sir -”

“Marco,” he said, tutting at you. He hadn’t moved his hands from the top of his cane but now picked it up and moved it away from your face. Everything about this situation was making you uncomfortable. It was horrible enough to be unprotected with a strange man but something in your gut was telling you to run as fast as far as you could. 

“M-marco, would you please let me up?” you asked, your nipples pebbling under your thin shift. You had no other recourse but to ask politely, you were at his mercy.

“What will you give me?” he asked, now using the ferrule of his cane to tilt your head backward, exposing your neck further. 

“Wha- I - I have some funds in my -” you said as the ferrule dug deeper into the soft underside of your jaw.

“Not funds yoi. Have you been kissed by a man?” he asked, now squatting down on his haunches to get a better look at you. You felt your flush extending far past your collarbones as you answered.

“N-no. I have not.” 

“Then I shall set you free for the price of your first kiss,” Marco stated. He wasn’t asking you or bargaining and you felt like you’d made a deal with the devil. Taking the teal feather, Marco set it behind your ear before he stood up and removed his foot from your hair. You did not hesitate as you burst to your feet and ran as fast as you could away from the strange man. He laughed and slowly took chase, walking leisurely as you ran with your hair flying behind you. As you ran you decided that climbing a tree might be the best bet for losing him as the foliage would obscure you from his sight. You scrabbled up the tree, scraping your knees and arms in the process of trying to climb higher and higher away from this menace. Reaching a large and high branch, you pressed yourself against the trunk and tried to stay out of sight. All you could hear was the beating of your heart in your chest and your panting breath as you covered your mouth with your hand.

“Oh, what a fickle lover you are! To deceive me with such a trick, what a naughty Dove,” Marco said, walking slowly down the path while tapping his cane against passing tree trunks. He stopped underneath the shade of the tree you were in. You quieted yourself even further and prayed that he didn’t know you were above.

“Such naughtiness needs correction yoi. It wouldn’t be seemly for an enchanting lady to run so wild, crushing men’s hearts with her capricious nature. Furthermore a lady should not be climbing trees like a rapscallion, she should be with her husband and attending to his needs,” he intoned as if lecturing you. He sat down at the base of the tree, setting his cane across his large lap. Your dress now clung to you like a second skin from the nervousness you were exuding. Yes, you were safe for now but you were also up a tree with no methods of egress. Distantly you heard the voice of your governess calling for you - you could have cried from the relief you felt washing over you. Her voice rang through the forest, getting louder as she approached where you were.

“So that’s your name then, little Dove? A fitting name for such an exquisite fille. I suppose I will take my leave,” Marco said, still facing away. He looked up in the tree and pierced you with his gaze, skewering you where you stood. You realized he’d known you were there the whole time and was playing with you for his own amusement. There was no longer merriment in his tone, you felt like you were the unlucky fox to his hound, about to be rent to pieces. 

“Your first kiss belongs to me, and myself alone. If I find you have wasted it on another little Dove, I assure you that you will not like the outcome,” he stated, his grip tightening around his cane. You shivered at his vow, delivered like a curse.  Getting up, he dusted off his clothing and resumed walking down the path. Passing your governess, he tipped his head in acknowledgement.

“I believe your errant ward is that way,” Marco said, almost apologetically. “Young women need to be guided with a firm hand, no?”

Shortly after your encounter with Marco, he and his family were introduced in society. You kept your distance from the doctor, never speaking to him outside the bare minimum required for social etiquette. For his part he didn’t try to find you alone or subject you to his whims again. You’d never told anyone of the time you had spent Marco but his lingering, intense stare told you he hadn’t forgotten. There wasn’t anything concrete between you and the handsome doctor - he had forced a pact between you without your consent. And yet you still never kissed a man, choosing instead to heed his warning. He hadn’t threatened you with anything specific and yet the feral look in his eyes told you he held you to his promise. You kept the teal feather and put it in a book, finding it too beautiful to dispose of no matter the origin. The feather never dulled or withered, it almost had a preternatural flame to its color. 

In the past few months you’d been hopeful that Marco had finally forgotten about you or moved on as he hadn’t been seen at parties as much. His new sanitarium was being completed and he was heavily involved in the project. He was not only the head physician on staff but also had raised the majority of the money donated to help those with mental issues. Marco barely spoke about the project before women were opening their pocketbooks, outdoing one another in a bid to catch his attention. You had tried to avoid the gala that had been thrown in his honor but your parents insisted you attend. People started remarking on Marco’s glances being directed your way and your parents wanted you to capitalize it. You tried to make them understand but they insisted on dressing you in your finest (and most revealing) blue gown and sent you on your way. The gown matched the teal feather you’d kept all these years so you tucked it last minute into your hairstyle as an accessory. Feathers were in fashion currently so it wouldn’t be out of place among the flocks of women looking their best. 

After being announced at the ball you quickly headed off to the side, hoping to hide yourself among the people hanging in the wings. Marco came from a large family and there were dozens of men you didn’t recognize circulating among the friends and acquaintances you met regularly. You tried to subtly keep your eyes on Marco, minding where he was at all times to avoid him as best you could while you chatted with those you knew. Somehow, to your dismay, Marco was able to slip your notice several times but didn’t approach you. Throughout the evening you had the sensation of eyes on you but anytime you looked around, there was nothing amiss. Towards the middle of the night you let out a sigh of relief - Marco was about to begin his speech thanking everyone and you’d be able to leave right after. 

Everyone gathered around the dance floor where they would be able to hang on the honeyed words that slipped from Dr. Newgate’s mouth. Like before you stayed towards the back of the crowd, only partially listening as you waited for the speech to conclude in between long rounds of applause. Marco began with the expected remarks, thanking all the generous donations that had been made to the groundbreaking Newgate Sanatorium. Apparently the Emperor himself had donated to Marco’s mental health ward and had given him a private audience to speak to his cause. The Sanatorium would help thousands of people struggling to maintain their psyches using the most cutting edge technologies. Marco would be bringing in medical students and other doctors so as to train the upcoming generation in the newest and most modern ways to treat the mentally injured. You were truly impressed with the services Dr. Newgate would be providing to the community and were glad he'd have the support he needed.

You clapped along with everyone else but were watching the exit to make your escape. Marco then began walking through the crowd as he spoke, the throng parting easily for their hero. “But there is still one thing missing from the Sanatorium,” Marco said, now walking in your direction, his cane tapping gently on the ground as he moved. You remembered that cane well from your younger years and the way it had dug into your skin as if to mark you. Shivering, you tried to back away with the rest of the crowd. Marco’s blue eyes locked in and bore into your own, as if he’d been tracking you the whole time. Your blood ran cold as he continued his approach. People noticed him staring at you and stopped moving out of the way, their bodies serving as a tacit barrier to your egress. Marco stood in front of you as your breath started to come in short bursts, feeling just as stuck as all those years prior.

“Rather, one person. A doctor can work his whole life to help others, but who helps him at the end of a long day? A man needs a wife to have a complete life, to feel like he matters not only in society but in his home as well. Which is why I am proposing marriage to-” Marco continued talking as he bent down on one knee in front of you but you couldn’t hear anything he was saying.

Marco reached into the inner pocket of his suit and pulled out a small velvet box. You could feel your heart beating wildly as he opened it, revealing a large sapphire ring set in gold. You gasped, covering your distraught face with your hands. The guests clapped and cheered, mistaking your shock for approval. Several men whooped loudly, coming to clap Marco on his back. Your vision had narrowed into just the ring, you were unable to look at anything else. Marco took the ring out of the box and gently pried your hand off your face, sliding the ring onto your finger. It was a perfect fit. He stood up, towering over your smaller form once more as he gripped you about the waist with one large hand. His fingers dug into your side keeping you secured to him.

“My betrothed and I will dance together for the first time tonight yoi,” Marco declared with flourish, giving the crowd a large smile. You finally snapped out of your stupor and tried to dislodge his hand subtly but Marco was already guiding you to the dance floor. Putting you into a dancing position, Marco held out his hand and pulled you close to his body, his hand pressing into your back. You placed your hand in his as the music began to play, a slow, romantic song that was perfect for a lover’s waltz.

“And now you are trapped beneath me once more, little Dove,” Marco said, his calm eyes belying the strength of his gaze. He was an excellent dancer, leading you easily around the empty dance floor as onlookers gossiped behind their hands. 

“I didn’t say yes,” you replied quietly, trying to keep yourself from bolting on the spot.

“Everyone believes you did. You’re wearing my ring,” he said with a light laugh, as if you’d said something funny. “Are you going to defy expectations once more, little Dove? Try another bid for freedom? I haven’t forgotten how you broke your promise to me, and I intend to collect,” Marco said, dipping you backwards. As he brought you back up he gave you a genuine smile, so different from the calculating and sharp one he usually displayed. It was a rare moment of warmth from Marco, the first you could actually remember receiving. Seeing it made you nearly miss a step but Marco corrected you without missing a beat, staying in tune with the orchestra.

“You’re wearing my feather yoi,” he said softly, bringing a finger up to touch your hair. You didn’t want to dissuade his notion and make him angry, especially in front of his brothers and the crowd. His touch made you shiver, this was the first time that he touched you directly.

“I can’t marry you Marco,” you replied, looking up into his eyes. Your will didn’t waver even as you kept your face neutral to avoid a social scandal.

“You will,” Marco said easily, pulling you closer. 

“I won’t,” you said stiffly as the song was hitting its final notes.

“Make your escape then,” Marco said as the song concluded, bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss. You felt the press of his sharp teeth against your skin, like it was the first step in devouring you. “See how far you get, Little Dove.”

Marco had been right thus far. Your parents publicly accepted the proposal and spent their time persuading you in the privacy of their home. No matter what you said, they were determined for you to accept Dr. Newgate’s proposal. The worst part was that there was nothing concrete that you could pinpoint as your reason not to marry Marco. You didn’t want to reveal the encounter you had all those years ago- any suspicion of impropriety would have them marrying you off immediately to avoid disgrace. Beyond that, all you had was a gut feeling, the sense of being captured in the talons of a bird of prey. You had started locking yourself in your room to avoid the circular conversation. That had worked until they took the doorknob off which prevented you from separating yourself any further.

To your dismay you were also unable to get the engagement ring off your finger. When you didn’t have the intention of removing it, the beautiful ring spun easily around your finger and caused no discomfort. But when you tried to take it off you were unable to dislodge it from your finger by any means. It was like it was stuck there permanently - butter, lotion, and oil did nothing to help you guide the ring off your finger. You tried cutting it off with shears or pliers but the ring was seemingly indestructible and immovable. Late at night you marveled at the ring, sweat running down your brow from the effort to remove it, as you wondered what magic Marco had imbued within it that made it unable to be removed. You’d heard of Devil Fruits and their miraculous powers but never in inanimate objects. 

A few days before Marco and his father were set to come over and discuss next steps, your father had began trying to beat you into submission. He wasn’t all that big but he didn’t have to be as he was stronger than you. He said marrying Marco was in your best interest and you were insane if you couldn’t see that. You hadn’t relented even as your shoulders and back ached with the accumulating bruises. He never struck your face or chest, afraid that Dr. Newgate might see the evidence of his “arguments.” You still hadn’t relented, the beatings you were enduring the better option than marrying Marco Newgate. 

Your parents had asked for Marco and his father to visit and confirm the engagement all together, convinced that you wouldn’t be able to say no in front of the formidable men. Your courage hadn’t wavered as you politely but firmly told Mr. Newgate that you were not in a position to accept a marriage proposal from his son. Mr. Newgate wasn’t upset or even surprised by your admission. He simply considered you with cold eyes and puffed on his pipe, neither agreeing or disagreeing. Your parents tried to backpedal your words, leading to your father leading you away from the parlor by your forearm. Bringing you into the sitting room, your father locked the door behind you. Turning to face you, he was purple in the face, his free hand was already balled into a fist.

“Just who do you think you are?” he loudly whispered into your face, spittle hitting your face as he spoke. His hand gripped you tighter on your forearm as he spun you to face him. His fist raised above your head, making you shrink back from the coming hit. You screwed your eyes shut as your father’s grip on you made you cry out in pain. “You will be marrying Dr. Newgate even if I have to -” Suddenly your father’s grip on your arm was gone and he began screaming his own pain. Your eyes flew open as you saw your father’s fist being crushed by Marco’s larger one. Marco wasn’t paying attention to your fathers cries as his eyes poured over your face.

“Please go sit with my father in the parlor, Darling,” you heard Marco’s cold voice cut through that of your father as he begged Marco for mercy. Fleeing the macabre scene you did as he asked and ran back to the parlor, chest heaving as Mr. Newgate sat impassively. His eyes roved over your smaller form and he grunted, tapping his pipe against the side of the chair. Your mother watched the used tobacco fall on her prized carpet but kept her mouth shut as the sounds of your father’s screaming hit a crescendo. 

“Marco’s not one to let go. ‘Twould be better to marry him now Lass,” Mr. Newgate advised you. You didn’t respond as Marco came sauntering down the hall, wiping the silver top of his cane with his handkerchief. It came away bloody as he folded it and replaced it in his jacket pocket. He looked like he had taken a stroll in the garden, not beating your father bloody. You distantly heard your father groaning and your mother locked eyes at Marco. He smiled calmly and nodded, allowing her to leave to tend to him. Marco crossed the room to you, taking your hands in his own.

“Are you injured?” he asked, searching your face. As you shook your head he pushed your sleeves higher on your arms, revealing the ugly bruises left behind. Marco’s lips thinned in displeasure as the pads of his thumbs traced the dark marks. 

“I wish you would have told me sooner. No one hurts my little Dove,” he murmured, bringing your forearm to his mouth for a kiss. You were wary of Marco before but now you were truly scared of what he was capable of with the screams of your father still ringing in your ears.

“Now then, shall we get married this week or next?” Marco asked, kissing the ring on your finger.

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff

[dodger432101]

Hey! I have to say it. I love the way you write about our beloved Lord of Light, and that's why I'm here...

PARA LA ANGUSTIA! HAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH

Seriously, I was wondering what would happen to a Reader who was very sick or near death and Lux had to face the possibility of her death and what would she do with her daughters?

[You folks have had it good for a while, it's time to cry! *Provides tissues for all*]

You've been sick for more than a week. You're showing no signs of getting better. Lux has taken over looking after the kids while he forces down his growing fears for you. You'll be fine, you'll get better. You have to. Mr Pye checks in regularly, eventually sending for a doctor to visit you when it becomes clear this isn't an ordinary illness. The look on their face tells you before they say a word. You're not going to recover from this. Still, Lux remains optimistic.

Until the God of Death appears.

At first your lover is angered by their appearance, seeing it as a mockery of his fears. Sutekh says nothing to him, silently watching you as the days pass. Every time you wake, he's crept closer. You realise what that means. “Lux.. Can you do something for me?” Your voice is hoarse, like you're already a husk of what you were. He's currently helping you eat what little food your body will accept at this point, though he pauses to let you speak. “Take our daughters to Reginald.” You can't bear the thought of them seeing you like this, withering away. Your God stares at you for a few seconds, looking like he's about to deny your declining health again before he just nods quietly.

One night, you wake up to the two Gods in the room speaking. “Please Sutekh, I'll do anything! I'll give up my Godhood, I'll give her all the power I have, just keep her alive, please! I can't watch her die!” Lux looks as desperate as you've ever seen him as he begs the leader of his Pantheon for help. The large canine is next to your nightstand by now. He looks down, almost seeming guilty as he sighs.

“Imperator, if I could stop this it would not be happening.”

“What the fuck does that mean?! Am I fated to watch my angel die? Did I fall in love with the one human whose death is unavoidable?!”

Sutekh closes their eyes, blending in with the darkness of the room. “It means the human body is not built to produce Gods, and she has had two of them. It is a miracle she made it past the second one’s birth.” There's another sigh from them. “It is my fault, I should have foreseen this. If she wasn't so weak, I would let you give her any power she needed. It would only prolong her suffering now. I am sorry, Imperator, there is nothing that can be done.” Silence fills the dark room. If the God of Death deems it so, your death cannot be avoided.

Lux doesn't leave your side for the next 3 days, as death only creeps closer to you. If you wake up during the night, you'll hear him stifling sobs as he clings to you, quietly begging for you to get better, to stay alive with him and your daughters. It breaks your heart, knowing there's nothing that can grant him that wish.

When the God of Death has moved onto the bed, shrunk down to the size of a great Dane, Lux holds your hand in a tight but gentle grip as he looks at Sutekh with a pleading gaze. “It would be cruel to delay this any longer.” At his leader’s words the God of Light squeezes his eyes shut, eyebrows knitted together as he fights back tears.

You gently squeeze his hand, getting his attention. “How are Cel and Nyx?” You can barely move your lips, your voice a whisper. Your lover hears you clearly, being so close to you.

The corners of his mouth twitch up. Even on the brink of death you're thinking about your daughters. “They're happy with Reginald. They kept asking about you..”

“You will tell them, won't you?” He nods after a short pause. As much as it'll hurt them to know you're gone, neither of you can bear the thought of them living in false hope that you might come back one day.

He squeezes your hand as he moves to lie next to you. “You don't need to worry about them, angel, I'll keep them safe. I promise you that, sunshine, you.. you can rest now.” As he hides his face in the crook of your neck, you can feel the cool drops of tears that he can't keep down anymore. “I love you, I love you so much. Rest easy, my angel, I'll take care of our daughters.. and Reginald, I guess.” You can't tell if he lets out a laugh or a sob.

As you wrap an arm around Lux, that small movement taking all the remaining strength you have, Sutekh shuffles right up to you. You rest your head on your God, eyes falling closed. “I love you too, Lux.” A cold paw presses down on your collarbone, and all your senses fade. The last thing your brain computes is the warmth of your lover next to you.

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

The Truth Revealed

Pairing: Platonic! Peter Parker & Reader; Reader x Bucky (but that's not really plot relevant)

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: nun too bad, Bucky finds out the truth and kinda blows up but it all works out yk lol

Genre: kinda angst kinda fluff

Summary: You happen to be the only person who still remembers Peter Parker exists and you are not about to hang him out to dry. So what happens when you take Peter in and basically become his guardian? Well- nothing is simple where super-teens are involved, but you and Peter can certainly handle whatever comes your way. Right?

***

Peter comes barreling down the hall yanking his mask over his head as he rambles quicker than you can warn him.

"I'm sorry I'm late, I know I missed dinner, but man you would not believe the night I've had?! And of course most of it won't be reported because they're not like world ending, Avenger level threats just a bunch of losers bullying my neighborhoods? It's like they all decided to commit crime tonight or som-" he stops suddenly when he finally sees Bucky sitting next to you on the couch. "Mr. Bucky- I- didn't know you'd be here tonight. Hi." Peter says awkwardly. You take in Bucky's changing expression and then look back at Peter.

"Peter your dinner's on the counter." You say, clearing your throat.

"Right yeah thanks." Peter pivots into the kitchen.

"What the fuck?" Bucky turns to you.

"Take a breath." You warn.

"I'm breathing- but what the fuck?"

"I know this is a shock but there's no need to make it a big deal."

"Oh this is a huge deal, Peter when you're done heating up your food come have a seat." Bucky calls into the kitchen and you cringe to yourself.

"Peter when you're done heating up your food take it into your bedroom." You call and Bucky's head snaps towards you again.

"Are you serious?" Bucky blinks at you and for the first time ever it feels like you're on different sides of the fence, but you have to handle this in whatever way is best for Peter and right now that means putting yourself between him and Bucky.

"You and I will talk about this first because we are the adults and then if you still want to speak to Peter after, he can join us." You say calmly.

"He needs to be part of this discussion." Bucky says.

"No he needs to eat dinner and you very clearly need a moment before addressing him." You stand firm. You know if he talks to Peter first he'll go red in the face yelling at him and Peter doesn't deserve that, you don't even know if he'll be able to handle that reaction. Bucky blows out an angry breath through his nose and fixes you with a look that would probably make anyone else wither away but you hold his gaze unwavering until Peter shuffles down the hall with his dinner.

"How long have you known?" Bucky asks you once Peter's room door is closed.

"Technically speaking, since 2017." You say.

"Excuse you?" Bucky frowns.

"It actually caused one of the worst arguments I ever had with Tony, for involving him in that Sokovia Accords fight at the airport when the kid was like 15." You scoff.

"Sokov- so you're not his godmother and you didn't know his aunt?"

"I'm not his godmother technically no, he doesn't have one. Or I guess his aunt would've been his godmother? Sorry not the point- when Tony died I kind of took over as his 'Avenger adult' since Tony was sort of mentoring him, granted we butted heads on Tony's methods a lot before that so I guess it started before Tony died. I did know his aunt though, we became friends once I learned Peter was Spider-Man." You say.

"So were ever going to tell me that or was I just going to be left in the dark forever like a fool?" Bucky asks.

"Bucky you are not a fool, first of all. It's not like I kept it from you maliciously, it's just that this wasn't my secret to tell you. It was Peter's decision to make and I support whatever choices he would've made regarding who knows and who doesn't." You explain.

"But we are supposed to be a team."

"We are a team."

"You lied to me. Malicious or not, you hid this pertty big thing from me." He frowns.

"Bucky-"

"You told me you were taking in a friend's kid after she died." He cuts you off.

"Which is true." You say.

"You didn't tell me that kid was an Avenger. One of us."

"Well it's not like you were rushing to tell him your secrets either." You point out.

"That's different he's a kid we're responsible for, this is something I should know."

"When I first brought Peter here you explicitly said you wanted nothing to do with that responsibility. Even just being friendly with him was something you dreaded the very idea of. I respected that wish. You've started developing a relationship with him and that's great but excepting me to betray his trust because you suddenly want to be involved is unrealistic you have to see that." You sigh.

"What if he decided never to tell me?" Bucky crosses his arms.

"Well then he doesn't have to!"

"Seriously? That would've been okay with you?"

"Yes. Peter has made sacrifices that no child should have to make and I will not let you make him feel guilty because of them. You can be mad all you want, I understand it hurts to find out you were left out of something and that's valid but you're not about to yell at Peter, you're not even going to speak to Peter until you stop pointing fingers for something you have no idea about." You grit out.

"Explain it to me. How do you justify that you've kept this from me for years now?"

"You didn't want anything to do with Peter 3 months ago. Why would I go telling his secrets to someone who specifically said to leave them out of it?"

"But that's clearly changed." He rolls his eyes.

"And it's still Peter's secret. You know better than anyone, trust is earned. I can't decide for Peter when that risk is worth taking. He has to decide for himself that he's ready for you to know and maybe that day was never going to come. Yes we're taking care of him but he's not a child James. Spider-Man is his and it's already ruined his life once."

"Spider-Man ruined his life?" Bucky scoffs.

"After Tony died I- wasn't around as much as I maybe should've been for him, Peter ended up getting caught up with some guy who offered him guidance where he had none, but he turned out to be a super villain and tried to convince the world that Spider-Man, that Peter was dangerous, evil even. It spilled into his normal life because that guy revealed to the entire planet that Peter was Spider-Man, it affected his friends, his family, there were protests outside his school. He couldn't deal, he went to Strange, asked him to fix it, make the world forget he was Spider-Man but that went horribly wrong, got so outta hand, universes started colliding with each other, and Peter was facing villains he should have never even known about. Almost lost his friends, did lose his aunt, and the only solution Strange had was to make everyone across all universes forget Peter Parker ever existed. He went from mourning Tony, to mourning every relationship he's ever had. Either through death or the earasure of his existence from their memories. So excuse me if I'm not keen on forcing him to tell anyone, including you, a damn thing. Last time didn't go so great." You say.

"Oh-"

"He has been fighting adult battles, making grown up decisions, since he was 15. Being a hero robbed him of so much and I am doing everything in my power to give him something back. You will not make him feel bad for not sharing something that has caused him so much pain." It takes a lot to control the emotion threatening to make your voice shake as you speak.

"I didn't realize." Bucky says.

"I know. That's why I insisted we talk alone before you say anything to him. I know how you can but but this is much bigger than us just 'lying to you' for no reason." You say.

"Is there anything else regarding this that I'm missing?" He asks.

"Not really. It's not like you had memories of him to lose from all that's happened, I don't think you ever even met him as Peter, he disappeared in the snap same as you and after Tony died he went to London on a school trip and you were off dealing with that wannabe Steve so- yeah. Nothing really changed for you."

"But for you?"

"Nothing really. I- was maybe the only exception across universes for Strange's insane spells. It's why I took him in." You shrug.

"Oh wait- so when you said you went to yell at Strange a few weeks ago-"

"He altered reality at the whims of a teenager, he deserved way more than a yelling at." You nod. "Do you still want to talk to Peter?"

"Yeah- I'd like to." He nods.

"No yelling?" You verify.

"No yelling."

"Alright, I'll go get him." You nod walking down the hall to Peter's room. You knock on the door and wait for him to mutter come in before entering. "You almost done eating?"

"I'm done." Peter clears his throat.

"Bucky wants to talk to you." You tell him.

"Is he still mad?" Peter winces.

"No." You shake your head.

"He seemed pretty peeved earlier." He wrings his hands together nervously.

"He was, that's why I had you leave, so I  could handle it, which I did." You sit next to Peter on his bed.

"I don't- like it when you guys argue." He mumbles.

"Neither do I." You shrug.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?" You frown.

"You were arguing because of me." He says and you shake your head immediately.

"We were arguing because Bucky and I are two adults with opinions, believe it or not we're not going to agree on everything all the time. Even though it doesn't happen often." You wave a hand dismissively.

"Yeah but- I heard you guys... it's my fault for-"

"Don't start. Bucky was mad he didn't know, sure, but you are not responsible for his feelings and he didn't know the circumstances. I wasn't going to have him yelling at you when you did nothing wrong, especially since I'm the one who decided we would keep it from him."

"But it's my secret, he shouldn't blame you for-"

"Peter, love, my job is to protect you, even if it's from Bucky. You let me worry about the big bad wolf. And please, for once in your life, stop trying to be the grown up. You've got two of us doing it just fine." You kiss the top of his head. "Let's go, I told Bucky all that went down and he's much calmer now, but if he starts yelling that conversation ends immediately. I'm not about to let him make you feel guilty." You tell him. Peter nods and the two of you return to the living room where Bucky's still sitting.

"Hey kid, have a seat." Bucky clears his throat when he sees you. Peter sits in the armchair and you sit next to Bucky.

"I'm sorry for not- telling you earlier about the Spider-Man thing." Peter says.

"It's fine kid. I get why you might be hesitant to spill. I've got my fair share of secrets that I wouldn't go telling just anyone. It was just a shock, but I want to be clear, I'm not mad. I mean I was at first but once y/n explained everything to me there was really no way to justify being angry with you."

"I just don't want to be the reason you two fight."

"Nah don't worry, this was nothing. As far as fights go, it barely counts, and you are not to blame. I'm just hotheaded sometimes." Bucky shrugs.

"So- everything's okay?" Peter asks.

"Yeah." Bucky nods.

"Everything's okay Peter." You say.

"Oh shit-" Bucky blinks.

"What?"

"The whole accords situation."

"Yeah when the whole world thought you killed King T'Chaka." You nod.

"Ye- thank you." He says flatly.

"What about it?"

"The fight at the airport, you said Tony brought Peter to that fight."

"Correct. I cussed him out for that."

"Circling back to that, I can't believe I didn't realize it before, he grabbed my arm, it was crazy- you have to be pulling punches when you fight, right Peter?" Bucky asks.

"Uh- yeah, usually. I- could easily kill someone if I'm not careful." Peter says.

"That's impressive." Bucky hums.

"Sorry, what did you not realize before? That he pulls his punches?" You ask.

"No. He was super talkative during that fight. He's been living here for almost a year and I never made that connection, I honestly should've figured it out within a couple of months if I was actually paying attention."

"I mean, your hypervigilance usually takes a back seat when you're here so it makes sense you didn't notice. Plus, that was almost a decade ago at this point, we've had much bigger fish to fry since then- it's easy to forget details like the sound of some kid's voice." You say.

"If it helps, I don't sound the same as I did when I was 15." Peter says. "Do I?" He asks you.

"Not exactly, no." You say with a chuckle.

"I mean yeah sure I just can't believe I missed it."

"Baby, it's not that deep." You kiss his cheek. "Peter and I are just great secret keepers." You wink at Peter who smiles.

"You and I both know my secret keeping puts yours to shame." Bucky scoffs yanking you over into his lap.

"If you guys are gonna get all lovey can I go back to my room?" Peter interrupts making you and Bucky laugh.

"I just wanted to make it clear to you that I'm not angry with you. I don't want you to feel like you can't tell me things." Bucky says.

"You know I've got you too Petey." You smile at him.

"Thanks guys. I appreciate it I swear but you're still in his lap and it makes me wanna leave." Peter says.

"You know one day Peter you'll love a girl so much you never want to let her go." Bucky says squeezing you tighter for emphasis. In any other circumstance you'd have giggled but you see the way Peter's shoulder's drop and your heart aches for him.

"Yeah, one day. I'm- gonna go play some video games." Peter says before disappearing down the hall.

"Was it just me or did his energy change?" Bucky frowns at you and you sigh.

"He had a girlfriend." You say.

"What?"

"Before Strange's spell that erased him from the memories of the whole world he had a girlfriend. And he loved her enouhg that he was willing to alter the very course of our world to see her happy. Still does."

"Man I'm an asshole." Bucky's head drops to your shoulder.

"You didn't know."

"Yeah but-"

"No buts. It was an easy mistake to make. We're all figuring things out as we go." You say.

"I should go talk to him."

"Sure." You say sliding over onto the couch so Bucky can stand.

"Don't worry doll I'll be back." He says kissing you cheek.

"I'll be here." You smile at him as he goes down the hall. It's a good thing Bucky knows everything now, but you clearly have quite a ways to go when it comes to Peter. You wonder if it'll ever get easier.

***

Tagged Users: @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @buchi91

[ae-neon]

House of Mirrors snippet for Day 3 - Free

Nesta watched the grey world just beyond the conference room's fifth-floor windows. An unexpected storm had rolled in the day before and sat heavy in the sky, threatening thunder only to break into a silent but persistent downpour at dawn. A divination perhaps, of what was to come.

She had never thought of herself as a storm before, yet it seemed fitting somehow. She returned her gaze to the man before her; to his frown lines and the almost inscrutable stare he weighed on her. Disappointment. It was becoming a bitterly familiar expression and after today she suspected it would become a lifelong companion.

Across the street the temple bells rang out, dim through the rain and rush hour traffic. Still, Nesta glanced at the clock on the wall and breathed a little easier when she confirmed the close of business.

It was done.

Harold Lorgos – Uncle Harry, as he’d once been – sighed and began sorting his papers. Nesta watched him in silence, read his thoughts from the lines between his brows. Once, it might have hurt to see. But the night before, under those dark clouds, she had buried something of her mortal heart.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.” His voice was deep and gravelled, as if his years of chain-smoking had charred his throat, “And what it might cost you.”

At that Nesta smiled – a sharp, poisoned thing. She’d already paid the price, had no choice in it. This, she had decided, was her reward. “Have you ever heard the tale of Pilla, Mr Lorgos? It’s a Scythian folktale.”

She took his silence as answer enough, “The story goes that a couple live in the woods trading wares with a nearby village. Frido and his wife, Hama, live a happy, blessed life but desperately want a child. So they pray and pray.

The Mother, in Her sympathy, grants them a never ending well of water; a crow that brings them rings and charms, and eventually a tree that bears medicinal fruit to prolong their years.

But all they want is a child. And one day a salesman comes peddling magical clay. They use this clay to make their daughter, Pilla. She is perfect. A beautiful, smiling doll.

Frido and Hama are overjoyed and dote on her, growing her with the clay as the years pass. But, with all their time spent on Pilla, the well dries; the crow goes unfed and the tree withers away.

And eventually their bodies grow weak, their bones begin to ache and they’re too old to dote on Pilla. So now – as is expected – their daughter must now take care of them.

Except...Pilla does not eat and cannot cook, she doesn’t grow cold and needs no fire, she is unbreakable and therefore her touch is bruising. They have given her no heart to love with.

So Frido and Hama die haunted and horrified by the image of Pilla’s beautiful, smiling face looking over them.”

The steady tick of the clock and the unyielding drum of rain seemed terribly loud in the silence room of the room.

Nesta did not read his face again, sure the disappointment had been replaced by something much worse. “Horrible things aren’t they, Scythian folk tales? Of course there is a lesson there. Succinctly distilled into an old saying: Ksé ami dzrel; dzrel ami ksé. A child is not a doll, and a doll is not a child.”

The proof of it lay between them, in the betrayal she had just signed and her beautiful, tearless face. “I’m only giving my parents exactly what they’ve always wanted.”

Fin.

@rhystaappreciationweekend

Incredibly shameless plug of my rhysta fic The House of Mirrors that I hope to update soon

[daphnefisherofficial]

bugna: TAKIPSILIM | destiny's twilight

CHAPTER TWENTY

Pairing: MCU Moon Knight System (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Avatar Fem!Reader

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(A/N: Sooooooo, I'm back. I'm REAAAALLLLYYYY sorry it took me long to post this. So many things have happened in the past year, very long story btw so I wouldn't dwell on it. I won't keep you waiting anymore so here's the next chapter. More updates are coming soon so stay tuned)

CHAPTER TWENTY - THE DOORWAY OF ACCURSED MEMORIES.

“Shall we begin, then?” you whispered softly, taking Steven’s hands as your deep indigo ceremonial priestess robes and his clean-cut white suit as Mr. Knight started materializing on your bodies, the intricate patterns of both fabrics heavy with history and magic as you prepared to cast the spell. 

“We shall”, Steven nodded, his gaze unwavering as he heard Marc and Jake’s collective approval inside his head. With practiced precision, you began to create a spell circle around the two of you, chanting in your native tongue the ancient words that would lift the veil on your collective memories long forgotten. 

The energy swirled around you and Steven, creating a glowing circle of runes and symbols that pulsed with a powerful, ancient energy as you channeled Khonshu's moon prowess through his Moon Knight and your own unique brand of magic. The very air around you crackled with anticipation, and the atmosphere grew heavy with a sense of impending revelation.

Your eyes and the tattoos in your respective jugular notches began to glow with otherworldly light, a rush of memories and emotions surged within your shared consciousness. Your sanctum began to transform as the walls slowly faded away, as you and Steven were seemingly suspended in the cosmos itself. The world around you blurred, and time seemed to lose its meaning as the complex spell finally took hold. 

The vaguely familiar night sky of Cairo greeted you and Steven as both your feet slowly felt the familiar coarseness of the desert sands beneath you. Marc Spector and Jake Lockley slowly materialized at your respective sides, garbed in their respective ceremonial suits of armor as Moon Knight. To the British chap, this was strangely reminiscent of the time that they spent in Duat where their respective bodies were physically apart, albeit assisted by a strong, powerful illusion spell.

“This was the night Steven and I kept dreaming about”, Marc spoke first before unmasking himself, his hazel brown irises reflecting curiosity. “Was this the same dream you’re having, Mira?”

“Yes, this was it”, you nodded in agreement as you watched the lost memory of your arrival in astral form together with Khonshu to the Cairo desert to aid Steven and Layla in finding Ammit’s tomb. Watching the Egyptian god of the moon converse with the two individuals before him made you slowly remember that fateful night when you had moved the constellations themselves to stop the devourer of souls from achieving her goal.

You began to hear Khonshu’s celestial voice echoing in your own head along with your own and your moon goddess, as your memories long buried like treasure hidden in the depths of the sea began to resurface.

I beseech you, Mira. Lend half of your life force to them. Save my avatars.

Help me, my goddess Mayari. Lend me your strength and power.

Only this once, Mira.

“You really were there with us”, Steven spoke in amazement as his headmates and himself watched Khonshu wither away as the Ennead trapped him in the ushabti. As you watched the man before you collapsed in the desert, it was primarily your own voice that you could hear this time around.

It cannot end like this. I will not let you die - any of you.

Arise, Moon Knight. With the power of the moon, I grant you half of my life.

“It was really you all along”, Marc realized, his rough, textured hand uncharacteristically gentle as he slowly held your own smooth porcelain wrist with a reassuring expression. “You saved all of us”

You slowly nodded at Marc’s words as tears welled up in your eyes, finally recalling the selfless act of sharing your life force with Marc, Steven, and Jake through a divine kiss. A larger chunk of the puzzle pieces were now in place to complete the picture, yet you cannot help but think that there’s more to what was currently unfolding.

“Hang on to me”, you beckoned to Marc, Jake and Steven as they swiftly held onto your shoulders and hands. As you anticipated, you chanted the continuation of your moon spell, prompting your current surroundings to shift once again as the memory version of your astral form was pulled back to your waiting body in London.

The four of you finally descended in another one of your lost memories, finding yourselves only a few months prior in the same attic room of your London home. You watched your memory version succumb to the exhaustion of aiding Khonshu, your eyelids drooped heavily as a powerful sleep spell overtook your being. You then witnessed your body collapsing in the arms of your patron goddess, Mayari.

Forgive me, Mira, for what I’m about to do.

A familiar heavenly whisper echoed in your mind once again, the once blurry memories coming into complete focus as you heard your moon goddess quietly seeking your forgiveness before the luminous light of her moon powers enveloped your mind in a mintala (ancient curse) of her making. 

“Isang makapangyarihang mintala ang aking igagawad sa aking napiling alagad”, Mayari spoke, chanting in her ancient, native language as she invoked her own divine prowess. “Kanyang malilimot ang lahat ng mga kaganapan ngayong gabi, kasabay ng paglimot ng kanyang mga katipan ng parehong mga alaalang nag-uugnay sa kanilang lahat. Siya niya ring malilimot ang mga alaala ng mag-uugnay sa kanyang irog at ngayo’y muling nagkatawang-tao sa pamamagitan ng kanyang mga katipan”

A powerful ancient curse shall be placed upon my chosen. She, as well as her soulmates, will forget the events of tonight as such memories that unite and bind them shall be forgotten and buried beneath forever. She will also forget her memories of her greatest love now reincarnated into this world, whose souls are bound to be fragmented forevermore.

“She really did this to me”, you whispered, feeling your own stomach drop at Mayari’s betrayal.

“Lo siento, cariño”, Jake sighed, looking at you forlornly before glancing at both Marc and Steven, whose expressions mirrored both disbelief and pity as they collectively watched you take a few steps back to try and collect yourself.

“But why?” your strangled whisper almost didn’t escape your lips, your own heart thundering inside your chest at the revelation.

At that moment, you caught Steven’s eyes as you watched him let out a surprised gasp. You immediately whipped back to the direction of your attic’s entrance, watching the door in it transform into a familiar mahogany door, its rich, reddish brown hue and native carvings reminding you of your old homeland.

“I’m not going bonkers, am I, Marc?” Steven’s eyes widened at what had just unfolded before him. “Or am I having deja vu from what happened with us at the Duat?”

“What do you mean, Steven?” you immediately asked, equally puzzled at what has just transpired. “Marc, what is he saying?”

“There was a time when the two - sorry, three - of us died and came back to life”, Marc started to explain, with Jake rolling his eyes at his mental triplet’s correction. “It’s a long story how we ended up dying, but our souls were sent to the Duat, as Steven said. Our hearts were weighed by that hippo– sorry, what was her name again?”

“Taweret, the goddess of women and children”, Steven responded. “She was the one who weighed our hearts against the feather of truth. Honestly, it should’ve been…”

“Anubis”, you ended up saying, prompting a brief silence as you quietly absorbed what they just said. “Steven, you said you were having a deja vu from seeing that door. What do you mean?”

“Well, when we were told that our scales wouldn’t balance”, Steven continued. “Taweret suggested that Marc and I showed one another the truth about our lives to hopefully bring balance. I remembered doing it by going through those kind of doors, like a doorway to our memories, you know”

“A doorway to our memories”, you echoed, repeating Steven’s words as your eyes gazed at the mahogany door before you once again. “This must be mine”

Mira, moon of my life.

“Ugh, Steven, when did you ever speak like that?” Marc whipped his head back at Steven, who now looked incredulously at his head mate, his eyes gone wide with utter confusion.

“I didn’t say that!”

I am truly sorry for leaving you.

“It wasn’t any of us”, Jake whispered to his mental brothers, his own eyes now darting to yours whose sole focus was now on the haunting whispers emanating from the mahogany door, now slowly opening and beckoning its owner to be let in. “Mira?”

You didn’t seem to hear Jake’s voice calling after you as your feet shuffled, following the voices now echoing inside your head calling out your name.

I promise to be back, Mira. You have my word.

“Mira!” Marc and Steven’s voices joined Jake’s as they collectively called out your name, trying to break you out of your current trance as they closely followed your every step and warily observing their surroundings for any sign of danger.

You immediately pushed forward, finally opening the remaining door that will unlock the final memory to piece your scattered past together. Pitch black darkness enveloped you and your companions as you took your next steps inside a small room where the only source of light was a golden sarcophagus lying beneath a statue of an Egyptian god sporting the head of a jackal. 

“Anubis”, you whispered out loud, your eyes meeting the only other Egyptian god you were closely acquainted with.

“I cannot believe we are standing before the Egyptian god of funerary rites and the protector of graves”, Steven gasped out loud. “Do you know him, Mira?”

“It seems that I’m supposed to”, Mira’s lips quivered as the first onset of tears gathered beneath her eyes again, immediately alarming Marc, Steven and Jake to your unprecedented reaction. They helplessly watch as you clutched your temple, feeling a strong headache coming through as a myriad of voices suddenly assaulted your head.

Talaga bang igugugol mo ang isang siglo ng buhay mo para lamang ipaghiganti ang pagkamatay niya?

Will you really be spending a century of your life avenging his death?

Wala nang higit pang mahalaga sa akin, Hiraya, kung hindi ang pagbayarin ang isinumpang diwata aking nakasagupa sa kanyang matinding pagkakasala sa akin.

I do not care for anything else, Hiraya. Except that this accursed god shall pay for his most grievous sin against me.

Yumao na si Darius, Mira. Hindi mo na siya muling makikita pa.

Darius is gone, Mira. You will never see him again.

You’ve felt great power slowly pulsing within your body as the last words you heard filled your heart with inexplicable despair and sorrow. The very air around your lungs becomes shallow as you’ve found it extremely difficult to breathe.

“Something’s happening to Mira”, Marc uttered as he held your right hand, feeling it shake vigorously between his palm. “Tell me, baby, what’s wrong?”

“She’s in a trance”, Steven shook his head, witnessing Mira’s eyes glow white as he started to back away in panic. “We need to do something, Jake!”

“Wake up, cariño!” Jake shouted, grabbing Mira’s shoulders as he tried to shake the woman before him awake. “Snap out of it!”

All three men collectively felt the enormous amount of ethereal energy enveloping your whole being before it burst forth from your body, the impact of the moon’s celestial prowess throwing them backwards. As they landed on their buttocks, they witnessed Mira’s raised hands now directed towards the golden sarcophagus, releasing a continuous stream of luminous white energy as the hieroglyphics within glowed ethereal moonlight.

The topmost layer slowly levitated as a result of the powerful spell that was casted, prompting the golden sarcophagus to open with the aid of Khonshu’s moon magic you wielded. Before you lies a man wearing ceremonial armor made out of silver and ebony black fabric. His body was without any signs of decay, as if time itself has suspended beneath the confines of his casket. His facade, however, remained a mystery to you as a jackal’s mask was in its place.

But not for much longer. Your right arm slowly reached out as your fingertips touched the mask’s surface, caressing it slowly as your eyes met the closed ones beneath. Descending at its edge, you tugged the mask upward to finally reveal the identity of Anubis’s avatar and champion.

You were greeted by the sleeping form of an olive skin-toned man lying peacefully on his coffin, the soft structure and angle of his face accompanied by his prominent jawline lightly stubbled being the very first thing you notice. His high and well-defined cheekbones greeted your vision next, slowly realizing the eerie similarities he bore with the three men whose paths you’ve repeatedly crossed with. 

My avatars are intertwined with your destiny closer than you think.

Khonshu’s words finally clicked something in your mind, a profound revelation of the long lost truth that had been hidden from you for far too long. The tears flowed freely from your eyes as the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place, completing the picture of a love that had transcended time itself. The image of Darius Carter, previously hazy as a result of a goddess’s curse, is now taking shape and coming into clear focus.

The hidden memories of your lost love immediately flooded your mind in quick flashes as your past and present life started to collide.

END OF CHAPTER TWENTY.

masterlist | previous | next chapter

[themculibrary]

Barista!Tony Masterlist

Autumnal Shenanigans (ao3) - Withstarryeyes steve/tony, clint/natasha G, 1k

Summary: Steve can't help but love the way Tony looks when he works--oversized sweaters, mussed up hair, and cute barista apron.

black, two sugars (ao3) - Anonymous steve/tony G, 720

Summary: “I’ll see you tomorrow, Tony. Oh! And it was a black coffee, two sugars,” Pepper says, tilting her head towards the still (miraculously) unaware handsome blond in the corner booth. She marches out into the cool, autumn night, leaving the two strangers in the quaint café alone together.

Everything but (ao3) - withered bucky/tony T, 1k

Summary: “Let me get this straight,” Tony began, eying the man across the counter. “Your name is actually Bucky?”

Caught between borderline confusion and apprehension, he nodded.

“You’re joking.” He could have dropped the marker, but there was a line growing behind him and there was no time for fumbling. The whole point of volunteering to help was to make sure business ran smoothly, not slower.

Granted, it wasn’t every day that genius-playboy-billionaire-philanthropist Tony Stark was your barista.

Hello, Mr. Hot Stuff (ao3) - Akira_of_the_Twilight bucky/clint/steve/tony T, 4k

Summary: Tony is a flirt.

Tony knows this. His boyfriend Clint knows this.

Now the cute blond who just moved into the area knows this, and soon Blondie’s boyfriend will know it too.

And what’s one of the many ways Tony flirts? By scribbling pet names onto his customers’ coffee cups.

And really? Can anyone blame him for writing “Mr. Hot Stuff” on Blondie’s cup? It would have been a crime not to.

No cream, no sugar (ao3) - PrinceofBadassery bucky/tony G, 1k

Summary: Tony's father cut him off from the family money and he lands a jobs as barista.

Bucky is a regular who comes to the coffee shop to write, nobody knows that he is an accomplished auther and he likes to keep it that way.

Tony is intrigued by the guy who types as fast with one hand as Tony does with two.

(This fic is a one-shot for a story idea I had but never managed to get to work)

Rise and Grind (ao3) - NotEvenCloseToStraight bucky/clint/tony M, 2k

Summary: Tony and Clint run a coffee shop.

Bucky is their favorite beefcake customer.

The usual shenanigans.

Somethings Are Meant To Be (ao3) - WelcomeToMays steve/tony G, 1k

Summary: Steve's dating record hasn't been the best lately, yet it didn't stop him from constantly shutting down Bucky's insistence on setting him up with one of Pepper's friends. Besides he has his eye on the cute barista at his local cafe that he will never ever ask out because, well because of reasons, anyways. But as the song goes... "Darling so it goes, somethings are meant to be." and sometimes things find a way.

sweetness (ao3) - imposterhuman bucky/tony G, 1k

Summary: Tony had thought he’d hate working as a barista, but the free coffee after every shift went a long way towards sweetening the deal. It also helped that Natasha, his friend whose shift schedule aligned almost perfectly with his own, was just as terrible of a person as he was and liked to join in when he started mocking the ruder customers. She made the monotony of the job bearable-- well, her and his favorite customer.

Bucky Barnes had been a regular at the shop for as long as Tony had been working there. The first time Tony had seen him, he’d begged Natasha to let him take the man’s order, then promptly ruined any and all chances of Bucky ever liking him by saying he had a fake name. Natasha had laughed for hours when their shift ended, but, somehow, Tony hadn’t scared Bucky off for good. The man came in like clockwork on Tuesdays and Thursdays, the same way he always had. 

If Tony put a little bit more effort into his appearance on those days and made sure he manned the register, well, it was nobody’s business but his own. 

The coffee shop lesson (ao3) - Oxane loki/tony T, 867

Summary: Tony really wants to flirt with the science student who hangs out at the coffee shop at odd hours. And then the science student leaves him an entire essay on a napkin criticising his smoking addiction. Well, Tony be damned, he likes hot bastards. Even more so when they're smartass.

The moon and its secrets (ao3) - 42donotpanic bucky/tony, clint/natasha M, 9k

Summary: In a world where Hydra and the Red Room made werewolves instead of soldiers and the Avengers work in a coffee shop, Bucky is not having a good time. Between chronic pain, trauma, and Natasha, who keeps dragging him on missions, he's struggling to stay in control when he turns and has a hard time keeping his secrets from the cute barista in his favourite café.

The Split Bean (ao3) - eolian234 N/R, 12k

Summary: By day he was billion, superhero, genius, Tony Stark. By night he was a barista at The Split Bean coffee shop.

What happens when one of his regulars, Peter Parker, has an unusual request?

Whatcha Writing? (ao3) - DaftPunk_DeLorean steve/tony M, 7k

Summary: Steve is a starving artist who gets by as an author of erotica and adult fantasies. Tony is the dashingly handsome owner of the coffee shop where Steve spends all his time writing, and who also happens to be Steve’s full-time muse. Steve’s stories involve adventure, romance, steamy sex, and most importantly, Tony. But writing lusty fantasies about his muse was one thing; falling helplessly, hopelessly, head-over-heels in love with him was something entirely different.

Who is Tony Stark?! (ao3) - Kreacher777 mj/peter T, 8k

Summary: Tony Stark survives the snap and wakes up in a hospital. But he doesnt have any memories on who he is or how he got into the hospital. So he starts a new life and starts to work in a small coffee shop. Soon, that nerdy teenager Peter might change everything for Tony...again.

With You Around (ao3) - pensversusswords steve/tony T, 6k

Summary: “I’d like to know you.”

Tony works in a coffee shop where Steve spends a lot of his time, because it’s the perfect place to draw. Then, he starts to talk to Tony, and he finds himself coming in for a different reason.

[from1837to1945]

Despite the fact, that Mrs. Inez Withers of Los Angeles was testifying in a Los Angeles Court, in a effort to obtain a divorce, she did not propose to have anyone slander her husband, as became clear when she testified that he was a "great actor" and remarkably capable and talented. Granville Withers, the subject of Mrs. Withers' remarkable paradoxial testimony, is a film player and, according to his wife's testimony, is suffucuently successful to make $400 a week. The photo shows Mrs. Withers, who seems to be her husband's ardent admirer despite her divorce suit.

-Dec 21, 1925.

[tournament-of-x]

The Hole

Announcement!

Welcome to the Hole Bracket! From the beginning, the Tournament of X has been a double-elimination tournament, so now that the primary bracket has concluded, it's on to our unfortunate losers' second chance. Whosoever wins the Hole Bracket will escape the Hole and be granted a shot at winning the entire Tournament of X!

With that said, the First Half of Round One will begin in five days on Saturday, September 2nd, at 8AM EST! The First Half of Round One will consist of 32 matches, and each matchup will be open to voting for one week.

The lineup for the First Half of Round One is as follows:

Match 1: Fenris vs. Christian Frost

Match 2: Lactuca the Knower vs. Ora Serrata

Match 3: Lost vs. Caliban

Match 4: Abigail Brand vs. Malice

Match 5: Nameless, the Shape-Shifter Queen vs. Mondo

Match 6: Burke vs. Amass

Match 7: Wagnerine vs. Fabian Cortez

Match 8: Crule vs. Spike

Match 9: Cam Long vs. Sprite

Match 10: Doorman vs. Darkstar

Match 11: Icarus vs. Broo

Match 12: Cipher vs. Mimic

Match 13: DJ vs. Silver Samurai

Match 14: Orphan-Maker vs. Asp

Match 15: Mesmero vs. Solem

Match 16: Oya vs. Dragoness

Match 17: Sevyr Blackmore vs. Wither

Match 18: Syzya of the Smoke vs. Tarn the Uncaring

Match 19: Cosmar vs. Genesis

Match 20: Typhoid Mary vs. Mentallo

Match 21: Whirlwind vs. Summoner

Match 22: Arclight vs. Blink

Match 23: Professor X vs. Maggie Braddock

Match 24: Candra vs. Havok

Match 25: Snot vs. Mad Jim Jaspers

Match 26: Jumbo Carnation vs. Big Bertha

Match 27: Redroot the Forest vs. Pestilence

Match 28: Rasputin IV vs. Empath

Match 29: Jersey Devil vs. Toad

Match 30: Alchemist vs. Proteus

Match 31: Fever Pitch vs. Neal Shaara

Match 32: Mr. Immortal vs. Wallflower

Remember, this tournament is a contest of popularity, not a contest of abilities. As always, asks and propaganda are both welcomed and encouraged.

Contestants Index

[kozykricket]

pokemon horizons just like. finally revealed what the mysterious Rakurium really does. and. it is metal as hell. its been called "the eternal blessing" and described as having endless possible uses... but. well okay. spoiler time on what theyve revealed

its probably immortality right. yea. it seemed more and more like that the longer things went on. mr villain guy is the same guy as one in a tale from 100 years ago. yep. and yeah! thats it. but HOW does rakurium grant immortality? well, you see. the area around it... the trees, they were grown like never before, yet they were also immensely withered and rotted

turns out! rakurium *withers things away while simultaneously healing them rapidly* essentially replacing all the cells in your body with fresh new ones.

and like. that. is metal as fuck

[cryptids-of-spielzeit]

Candles

Present 3: Sharing

(A Marching Hare Story)

For the past month leading to her 5th birthday, Charlotte had been preparing for when the Marching Hare would return. She invited everyone she knew, pretty much the entire town, to the party. Now, the reason why everyone was invited wasn't given to them, they just saw it as a gesture of goodwill. But Charlotte had something in mind, something that she'd show everyone, and hopefully, they'd join in.

Susan and Grant had been helping their daughter prepare for the party, getting the cake ordered, making the decorations, the like, while Dee had handed out the invites. Everything was coming up nicely.

The day before the party, most of everything had been set up. The cake had been completed, sealed up tight, and their yard was adorned with streamers and brightly colored lights. There was only one more thing that was needed. A gift.

Charlotte had gotten a piece of construction paper and a marker, and went to work. She had her mother make sure it was readable, it was important for the receiver of the gift to understand. She spent all night trying to find the right words, what to write down. And, finally, with a finishing touch, the gift was ready.

It was the day of the party. A majority of the town was there, all the kids that could make it were there, they were playing, and all the parents talked amongst themselves. Susan was the only one still out of the loop, even after the night she returned home she still had no clue what this "birthday bunny" was, and why everyone else seemed to take it at face value.

"Oh, it's just a little thing the kids made, I believe."

"Are you sure? They all take it so seriously."

"Well of course they do, mein freunde, what child doesn't?"

Susan took a moment to reflect. Why question this, it's just kids being kids, after all. But why go through so much effort, inviting all of these people, just for something made up? Why not, if everyone has a good time?

Charlotte was anticipating his arrival every second she was there. She had her gift for him in hand, never letting it go, even when playing with the others. She was optimistic, why wouldn't he show up? It was her birthday, he had to.

She waited. An hour passed, no sign, lunch had been served. She waited. 2 hours, no sign, all the games had been played. She waited. 3 hours, no sign. All there was left were cake and presents. Her optimism withered with each hour. If he didn't show before the party was done, then what was the point.

"Alright honey, do you want to do cake or presents first?"

"Cake, please. Just in case he arrives."

"Alright, Charlotte, go and sit at the table. Daddy and I will light the candles."

She took her seat in front of the cake, 5 long, rainbow candles adorned it.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, all were lit up.

"Alright everyone, are you ready? 🎵 Happy bir-"

A loud clang was heard in the distance, silencing everyone. Another clang, and another, the faintest sound of static alongside them.

"HE'S HERE! MOMMY, DADDY, DEE, EVERYONE HE'S HERE!"

Indeed, he was. The Marching Hare, there for everyone to see. As he took his steps, he started to notice just how many people were there. So many, just to celebrate that little girl's birthday. The static almost sounded like giggling. He marched only a tiny bit quicker, before finally stopping right in front of everyone. All but the children stood in shock. The parents couldn't believe it, Susan especially. He was real.

It had a great, big pinecone in its mouth, dropping it. He bowed, slowly starting to turn around.

"WAIT!"

Charlotte cried out, stopping the Hsre in its tracks. She stepped down from her chair and walked over to him, her gift in hand.

"Can you read, Mr. Bunny?"

He nodded slowly, tilting his head in confusion. She handed him the gift, a note.

"Dear Mr. Bunny. When you first visited, I was very happy. And when you visited everyone else, you made them happy. You gave all of us gifts, but you didn't get anything. I want to fix that. I don't know when your birthday is, so all of our birthdays are yours too. And presents are included. Thank you, Mr. Bunny.

From Charlotte Reed"

And below, a little drawing of the Hare, a big smile on his face. A tear started to form on his beady eyes. The static was increasing in intensity, he wanted to say something. After a bit, he managed to get it out, as warbled as it was.

"T̸h̶a̷n̵k̶.̴.̶.̷.̶y̷o̷u̴.̷.̸.̴.̶ "

He put the note in his mouth, and then marched away. Charlotte walked back to the cake, blowing her candles, the pinecone in hand. Everyone turned around, clapping as one would at any other birthday party. Charlotte, with a few tears of her own, stood in.her seat, shouting.

"Happy birthday, Mr. Bunny!"

Bunzo giggled. He'd be getting really old, wouldn't he? A few more tears wouldn't hurt.

[waterloggedsoliloquy]

2 & 9 for opal!

2. What's something about your OC that people wouldn't expect just from looking at them?

He knows what he's doing. Not all of it can be chalked up to dumb boy who doesn't know better.

9. Do you have a specific lyric or quote which you associate with your OC?

I like this question. Here is his playlist! And attached favorite lyrics like the 8tracks days. I can't say who he's referring to in every song, but maybe you might have some ideas?

Well, I'm just a kid of ill repute / But the skin I wear's my only suit / And you, you're just a substitute / For the one that I hold dear

2. The blocking characters are plotting new disloyalty / But sensing their irrelevance, they're frowning and displeased / The car chased through the mini-mall, amaryllis on the hood

3. All these things I've tried, boy, be cute, be dumb, be wise, be young

4. I'M SCARED! THAT I! WON'T E! VER CHANGE! I THINK! ABOUT! HER E! VERY DAY! I CAN'T! LET GO! I CAN'T! GO ON! I'M NOT! OKAY! AT ALL!

5. Hey there Mr. Blue! We're so pleased to be with you!

6. 'Cuz my heart is my keep! / And yo-u-u-u-u-u are threatening me!

7. The ache of a decade / the cure is overdue / for this brand-new kind of blue

8. You told me I'm hard to live with, but you said it out of spite! / I may put you through some suffering but I'll never prove you right! / It's a chapter that you're stuck on, but you'd rather read alone / I'm an uninspiring ending, but the best you've ever known!

9. Once I was the King of Spain / now I eat humble pie / A palatial palace, that was my home / now I eat humble pie

10. All My Friends Are Falling In Love / I know that if I was to set you free / You'd let them take you away from me

11. The sleeping beauty of the wasteland / Carry the milk or pierce the body with swords / machine guns, flowers, and peacock feathers

12. You got a reaction / You got a reaction, didn't you? / You took a white orchid / You took a white orchid turned it blue

13. 'Cuz what if I become my mother's / sole reputation? / and with no hesitation / i just burn all night

14. You are an unfit rival / By spirits taught to sing / But a tune so twisted now / Like all that's sweet's gone sour

15. I hug myself hard / How come there's peacocks in the front yard?

16. One girl's not so loud, like a convert she believes / She's always been looking for wires / But now she knows none are required / It's magic

17. I can see now you've stepped into the light / You've got those bright kind of eyes that I like / I kinda lie and I can't find a way through / I've obscured my own view / Well I'd do anything to make you mine

18. I just want to know what your feathers are made out of / Is it bruises or roses or cradles or coffins? (It's all those!) / Which peacock is beast? Which peacock is priest? / If your friends are all cripple, all wither, all wilt / I know, I know, I know

19. My name should be trouble / my name should be woe! / 'cuz trouble heartache / is all that I know! / Lonely lonely blue boy / is my name!

20. Don't occupy my throne, give me the crown I own / Lived like you told me how, look at me now

21. Swear to shake it up, if you swear to listen / Oh, we're still so young, desperate for attention / I aim to be your eyes, trophy boys, trophy wives

22. [no lyrics]

23. Misjudged your limits / Pushed you too far / Took you for granted / I thought that you needed me more, more, more

24. Poor little rich boy, all the couples have gone / You wish that they hadn't, you don't wanna be alone / But they wanna kiss and they got homes of their own

25. What she asked of me at the end of the day/ Caligula would have blushed!

26. [no lyrics]

27. Today I am / A small blue thing / Like a marble / Or an eye / With my knees against my mouth

28. Will you come a little closer now and tell me I'm a / Scrawny mother fucker with a cool hairstyle?

29. Hello again / Not much has changed / I'm still the same / Just a bit older / Where have you been? / How do you like it? / I'm still the same / Just a bit bolder

[postersdecinema]

A Hora Fatal

EUA, 1940

William Nigh

5/10

Entretenimento Fatal

Foram cinco filmes, todos realizados por William Nigh, prolífico diretor de filmes B, produzidos pela Monogram Pictures, a obra cinematográfica completa deste Mr. Wong, detetive chinês, alma gêmea do famoso Charlie Chan.

Boris Karloff parece, uma vez mais, desconfortável e inconvincente no papel. Warner Oland e Sidney Toler eram inquisitivos no desempenho de Charlie Chan, partilhavam as sua ideias o conclusões com a polícia, iam juntando factos até chegarem a uma conclusão. Este Mr. Wang é um simples e geralmente óbvio observador. Pouco fala. Os seus interrogatórios às testemunhas são telegráficos. A conclusão parece brotar do nada, ao fim de meia dúzia de diligências.

Já os elementos comicos da série, a jornalista Bobbie Logan (Marjorie Reynolds) e o polícia Bill Street (Grant Withers) não primam pela subtileza. Ela introduz-se na investigação policial com uma insistência e à vontade inauditos e acaba por ser um elemento decisivo na captura dos criminosos. Ele limita-se a gritar muito, com a jornalista, as testemunhas e os suspeitos, mostrando uma total incapacidade para descobrir o que quer que seja

Enfim, se Charlie Chan consegue ser um entretenimento de sucesso, com poucos meios, este Mr. Wong parece uma pálida imitação do primeiro. Nem Boris Karloff o salva.

Fatal Entertainment

There were five films, all directed by William Nigh, a prolific B-movie director, produced by Monogram Pictures, the complete cinematic work of this Mr. Wong, a Chinese detective and soulmate of the famous Charlie Chan.

Boris Karloff seems, once again, uncomfortable and unconvincing in the role. Warner Oland and Sidney Toler were inquisitive in their performances as Charlie Chan, sharing their ideas and conclusions with the police, gathering facts until they reached a conclusion. This Mr. Wang is a simple and generally obvious observer. He speaks little. His interrogations of witnesses are telegraphic. The conclusion seems to come out of nowhere, after half a dozen investigations.

As for the comic elements of the series, the journalist Bobbie Logan (Marjorie Reynolds) and the police officer Bill Street (Grant Withers) are not distinguished by subtlety. She introduces herself into the police investigation with unprecedented insistence and resourcefulness and ends up being a decisive element in the capture of the criminals. He just yells a lot, at the journalist, the witnesses and the suspects, showing a total inability to find out anything.

Anyway, if Charlie Chan manages to be a successful entertainment, with few resources, this Mr. Wong seems like a pale imitation of the first. Not even Boris Karloff can save him.

[locustheologicus]

The Gospel Challanges Injustice:

As I prayed this morning I reflected on the plea that was made yesterday by the Episcopal Bishop Rev. Mariann Budde who challenged President Trump's call for unity with a call for mercy.

Let me make one final plea, Mr. President. Millions have put their trust in you and, as you told the nation yesterday, you have felt the providential hand of a loving God. In the name of our God, I ask you to have mercy upon the people in our country who are scared now... Our God teaches us that we are to be merciful to the stranger, for we were all once strangers in this land. May God grant us the strength and courage to honor the dignity of every human being, to speak the truth to one another in love and walk humbly with each other and our God for the good of all people.

Sadly, this message which called for mercy for the diverse communities now targetted by the policies formed under his new administration, fell on deaf ears. The President remarked “I didn’t think it was a good service” and even went so far as to demand an apology.

As it turns out this morning's Gospel reading came from Mark 3:1-6 where Jesus heals the man with the withered hand on the sabbath. The Jesuit Prayer app offered the following reflection based on this reading.

Jesus understands the law but chooses to challenge its misapplication, knowing it might provoke opposition. While healing only the man’s withered hand, Jesus responds to his deeper human need: a need to be embraced with tenderness and seen as worthy of God’s loving attention. While the Pharisees are paralyzed within the confines of the law, Jesus chooses love and freedom…and his action heals.

For those of us who read the consistent message that Jesus gives we cannot fail to see that at every opportunity Jesus challenges society to promote justice, mercy, and love. He does not allow the letter of the law to function as a wall that stops him from reaching our and serving those in need. He reminds the Scribes and the Pharisees in a previous passage that "the sabbath was made for man, not man for the sabbath." Unfortunately they did not seem to accept this teaching which may be why the Gospel tells us that he was angry with them during this event.

The Scribes and Pharisees are ready to impose the law on many of those who are with us today. Laws that will hurt those who are marginalized in our communities. It's fine that we momentarily close the border while our nation reorganizes itself on how they will respond to the migrants here but the actual Jesus of the Gospel challenges us to be just, merciful, and loving to those whom we encounter in our communities today. Injustice may have its moment in the sun for now, but the Jesus we read in today’s Gospel will never sit back and allow unjust laws to have the last word.

Thank you Bishop Budde and Cardinal McElroy for bringing forth the prophetic message and reminding us that the Gospel of Christ will always challenge our social injustices. By the evening of this day our U.S. Bishops conference also added their voice of concern for the recent executive orders that have been promulgated by this administration. Archbishop Broglio offered the following statement.

Many of the issues President Trump addresses in his recent Executive Orders, along with what may be issued in the coming days, are matters on which the Church has much to offer. Some provisions contained in the Executive Orders, such as those focused on the treatment of immigrants and refugees, foreign aid, expansion of the death penalty, and the environment, are deeply troubling and will have negative consequences, many of which will harm the most vulnerable among us.

Moments later Bishop Seitz also added his own even sterner message.

The Catholic Church is committed to defending the sanctity of every human life and the God-given dignity of each person, regardless of nationality or immigration status… As shepherds, we cannot abide injustice, and we stress that national self-interest does not justify policies with consequences that are contrary to the moral law. The use of sweeping generalizations to denigrate any group, such as describing all undocumented immigrants as ‘criminals' or ‘invaders,’ to deprive them of protection under the law, is an affront to God, who has created each of us in his own image.

He also added the following:

We urge President Trump to pivot from these enforcement-only policies to just and merciful solutions, working in good faith with members of Congress to achieve meaningful, bipartisan immigration reform that furthers the common good with an effective, orderly immigration system. My brother bishops and I will support this in any way we can, while continuing to accompany our immigrant brothers and sisters in accordance with the Gospel of Life.

The Christian community is clarifying its social message in light of this administration and I anticipate that this message will become clearer in the days ahead, especially if the administration attempts to impose itself within the church itself.

To those who seem confused about President Trump’s messianic identity, allow me to clarify. Jesus is our only messiah and his Gospel stands in opposition to many of the executive orders that the President has issued these last two days. A line in the sand is being drawn with Trump on one side and Christ on the other, whose Gospel will you follow?

I am adding to this post because, as of this week (1/27/2025) Trump’s Vice President, JD Vance, a Catholic, publicly offered his critique to the US Bishops where he says the following:

I think that the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops needs to actually look in the mirror a little bit and recognize that when they receive over $100 million to help resettle illegal immigrants, are they worried about humanitarian concerns? Or are they actually worried about their bottom line?

As I said, the line in the sand is being drawn and the battle lines are formulating. What Trump/Vance and their followers represent is the gnostic strain of Christian nationalism that has emerged since 2008 (possibly birthed from the remnants of the “moral majority”) which is a nationalistic ideology that was interprets and defines the faith. What many of us who study and believe in the teachings of our faith represent is the counter-cultural movement that Christ started in order to transform people and the sinful systems within domineering power politics and culture.

What is the difference? Christian nationalist fight for cultural dominance, we struggle to promote the principles of the Kingdom of God (as Jesus taught it) within ourselves and our society. As an example cultural dominance looks to dominate and define the community with their cultural values so they go after personal morality as a way to purify society within the idol of their own cultural vision. This is why their attack on abortion and diversity is directed not at the issue itself (does not seem to bother them that abortions have increased since being made illegal) but on the control and even the elimination of the population.

This is not the goal of our faith. Borrowing from the work of Richard Niebuhr we are not promoters of the Christ of Culture but of the Christ who is the transformer of Culture. We do not come in to judge or oppress people to our image and rules but to embrace them in love and mercy. We advocate against unjust laws that terrorize, oppress and terminate life and the environment because that goes against our most basic belief in the inherent dignity of all people and the integrity of all creation.

Vance, a Catholic, knows this I am sure. He knows that the Church will not compromise on this principles and if he cannot use that for his ideological ends then he has to delegitimize the Church in whatever way he can. So for that reason he needs to throw an ad hominem fallacy and attack the institution itself in an attempt to end its influence on the issue.

I have said it before and I will say it again, part of the religious tradition of this nation to is to allow the Spirit to work within our authentic Christian communities in what has been called the Great Awakening movement. It may be time we evangelize our communities and usher in the fourth Great Awakening.