#the STARS ON HIS FACE... aspirational fr hes so good at that... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

multifandomfanfic · 3 years ago

Text

James Bond

Paring: Cliff Booth x fem! Reader

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, subtle praise kink, oral (m receiving), older guy young girl trope

Summary: Whose idea was it to hire a stunt double as a lead? It was an utterly awful, unfathomable idea. That was, until you got to know this mysterious lead… then, things become so much more.

Word Count: 6.1k

As a child in Los Angeles, all I ever wanted to be was a movie star. There was something endearing about watching people move on television and knowing that every step, twirl, kiss, and line was meticulously planned.

They made it look so natural, as if they came up with it on the fly.

I wished I could be like them. I wanted to accomplish what they could with minimal effort. I desired to be interviewed by a handsome man who would inquire as to how I was able to do what I do. I remember lying on my aunt's hardwood floor as she's the only one in the family with a television. My stomach pressed against the ground, twirling my hair in my fingers as my gaze wandered over the familiar faces dancing across the screen.

Movies are an untapped market that will undoubtedly boom in the coming decades. I wanted to be a part of the revolution. I aspired to be a forerunner. I wanted to be remembered as an influential woman who had a significant impact on cinema for decades after my death.

Now I found myself in the 1970s. An era that will be remembered for its fashion, dances, and phenomenal impact on cinema. Bond movies were at an all-time high, and the stereotype of womanizers was in full swing.

“Cliff Booth?!”

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Cliff Booth?! I tightened my grip on the poor piece of paper, causing it to crinkle under my grip.

“But… he’s a stunt double?!”

“Well ever since he beat up those hippies that broke into Rick Dalton’s house his name has gained quite a bit of traction in Hollywood.”

The director spoke with a country accent that was thicker than tar. He was well-versed in the land of westerns, and I had no doubt that this casting was at least partially his idea.

I scoffed. He was joking, right?

“Oh come on David… he’s a sorry sack of shit and we both know it…”

David took a long drag on his cigarette before tossing it to the floor and crushing it under his boot, twisting the embers into the dry ground.

“Y/N, you know the whole womanizer idea is hot shit right now…”

“There’s thousands of studs in Hollywood, David… Thousands of studs who are also good actors.”

I crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it to the ground below me. Our attention was drawn to the paper ball, which we followed with our eyes until it stood motionless on the dusty ground.

“He better keep his shit together…”

I tried to come across as intimidating by speaking through my teeth and straightening my back. Unfortunately, my efforts were not fruitful, and David saw right through me.

The bright California sun glinted off his blue irises as he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest in over exaggerated annoyance.

“Y/N… he’s a professional-”

“They say he killed his own wife!”

“I do not give two shits about what my actors do off set!… Frankly, as long as they’re able to give one hundred fifty percent in front of the camera they’re considered gold in my book.”

I rolled my eyes, chewing on my bottom lip in an attempt to keep from losing my cool.

This was a completely ridiculous idea. Casting a stunt double as an attractive, romantic, womanizer lead was a ludicrous notion.

I swallowed my rage and crossed my arms over my chest, digging my dull nails into my biceps until my brain forced me to stop due to the assault on my nerves. The pain was harsh, but it successfully distracted my mind from the problem at hand for mere moments.

“Look Y/N… you’re young-”

“I’m not a rookie.”

“I never said you were… But I’ve been in this business for longer than you’ve been alive and I assure you I know what I am doing.”

I despised how every man over 30 addressed me as if I were a complete moron who didn't know their right from their left. I wasn't an idiot. I've been in the industry for a few years now, and I make it a point to learn everything I can before diving into something new.

I know exactly what I'm doing.

I simply bit back my rage. I couldn't let a single bad decision ruin my chances of making it big.

“Couldn’t you have at least gotten Rick Dalton?... I mean, he’s ancient and practically insignificant nowadays but at least he can act.”

David grimaced. In his youth, he was a big fan of Bounty Law, and hearing me, an inexperienced idiot, bash his favorite actor damaged a very important part of himself.

“Rick Dalton is a cowboy… Not a womanizer… Plus, I’m sure he’s busy.”

“What does Cliff Booth have that the thousands of super talented Hollywood hunks don’t?”

David tilted his head slightly forward.

“He’s an untapped market… people know him as Rick Dalton’s stunt double but if he’s also good as an actor…”

David smirked and nodded devilishly, raising a finger.

“Well… then that’s a conversation piece.”

He dropped his arm, returning it to its original position across his chest.

“Besides… he’s got a look that could make all of us filthy rich.”

I pursed my lips.

“Sure… whatever.”

“Just do the goddamn movie with him. I don't give a shit if you two never speak to each other after we wrap this up but at least act like you’re interested.”

“Well… that is my job.”

David chuckled, a crooked smile forming on his face.

“Cliff will be here soon… Be on your best behavior.”

I rolled my eyes nonchalantly.

“Whatever… I’ll be in my trailer if you need me.”

I said my goodbyes and made my way across the small trailer lot to my new home. Because the cast of this film was small, only a few trailers were required to accompany the small number of cast members.

As usual, the California weather was pleasant. The sun was warm but not oppressive. The gentle breezes that blew through the city were the perfect breath of fresh air in the midst of a hectic day.

The weather here was always perfect.

The sun glistened off the side of my metal trailer, reflecting directly into my eyes and forcing me to cover my face with the back of my hand to protect my retinas from the rays.

As I flung open the door to my trailer, a particularly cool breath of fresh air tousled my hair. I sighed heavily, my chest collapsing.

Let’s hope he doesn’t screw this up.

I mean, who’s idea was it to cast a stunt double as the lead role?

David.

In a temporary fit of rage, I slammed the door shut. A loud bang erupted, shaking the entire trailer.

“I swear if he messes this up for me…”

I clenched my teeth. This was going to be my big break. This movie was going to be a huge hit! A spicy romance film about a womanizer man and a younger girl would undoubtedly make waves in Hollywood, especially with the Bond universe reaching an all time high.

I'd be right in the thick of it. People will be talking about this movie for decades to come. How it was technically incorrect, how it was messed up in so many ways, but they'd go home and watch it anyway. Because it would be impossible to deny that they're tempted.

David made a wise choice in giving me a chance. But a stunt double? He's only good for jumping off horses and trying not to get hurt!

I take a deep breath and close my eyes to enjoy the sensation of sweet oxygen filling my lungs. David is not a moron. Cliff will be fine, I'm sure. I couldn't let a minor inconvenience derail my promising career.

“Ugh.”

I groaned, collapsing onto my stiff couch, which provided little comfort in my time of need. The hinges groaned as they suffocated under my weight.

I pressed my cheek against the scratchy fabric, my cheekbone digging into the surface as my face compressed to meld against the couch.

I should rehearse my lines. I should go for a walk. I should do something productive.

I couldn't make myself move from where I was, my front pressed against the rock solid couch. The trailer was poorly insulated, and the interior was musty and sticky. I could see dust particles floating through the air, with not a care in the world.

“Hey Dave, how’s it going?”

Outside my trailer, I heard a man's voice I didn't recognize.

Was he already here?! How long have I been relaxing?

I sat up, clambering to the tiny window on the side of the door, hoping to catch a glimpse of my costar.

I leaned in, my hands on either side of the circular window, my face almost touching the glass. I stared at him as if I'd never seen a man before.

He stood tall on the dusty ground, clad in dark blue jeans and a bright yellow button-up shirt. His eyes were obscured by dark sunglasses that reflected David's image onto them.

As much as I despised admitting it, he had a look, an iconic look. He carried himself as if he were the only man who mattered. Even if you weren't a fan of the macho older man look, his confidence was undeniably impressive.

David tipped his cowboy hat to him, giving him a proper welcome full of good old-fashioned southern hospitality.

Cliff's voice was much deeper and stronger than David's. His tone cut through the air like a knife, and I could clearly hear what he was saying. I couldn't make out David’s words. He sounded like he was mumbling under his breath.

To be fair, they were quite a distance away from me.

They conversed as if they were old friends reuniting after a long absence. Their postures were relaxed, with their hands lazily placed on their hips and their pelvises cocked to the side.

“I’m excited to do this movie David…”

“Thank you for the opportunity…”

“I love your work…”

He was kissing up, and rightly so. When I first met David, I did the same thing. I knew I needed to win over the director, or else I'd be in for a bumpy ride.

“Sure! I’d be willing to start filming later today!”

Huh?! What did he say?!

Oh God, I needed to prepare myself.

Cliff gave David a nod, before turning on his heels and making his way towards my trailer.

Oh wait… why is he coming over?

His hair fluttered in the gentle breeze as he strutted confidently towards me. I crouched quickly to avoid his gaze.

Don’t panic.

I crawled across the floor, scrambling for stray pieces of my script that were strewn about. The papers kept slipping from my grasp, fluttering to the floor just beyond my reach.

“Fuck!”

I exclaimed, hurriedly gathering the papers in my grasp and clutching them to my chest, crinkling them in the process.

I could hear him, his loud footfalls echoing just outside my trailer.

I lunged to the couch, settling into a comfortable sitting position with the few papers I could gather in the limited time I was given. I went through them. They were all scrambled, chunks from various scenes at scattered points throughout the film.

He knocked, sending a brief shock through the trailer. I gulped.

“Come in.”

I said with all the assurance I could muster. Hopefully, he won't think too much about the nerves that were covered by my phony confidence.

He swung the door open using its flimsy hinges. I glanced at him through my lashes, pretending to be surprised but not overjoyed.

He leaned against the door frame, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Oh… hello…”

I gave him a quick smile before returning my attention to the script in my hands.

“Boss told me to tell you that we’ll be filming later today… if that’s alright…”

I pursed my lips and nodded, not looking him in the eyes.

“That’s fine… What time is he thinking?”

“In like… two hours maybe.”

“Okay… Thanks for telling me.”

I pretended to be reading the script in front of me. It was the scene in which the two characters were in a club, hitting it off.

It was unmistakably a slow burn.

I was expecting him to leave. He'd told me everything there was to say. What else could he possibly want?

He pushed himself off the door frame and took a long step forward, getting halfway between me and the door.

“You look like you take yourself too seriously… Am I right?”

Excuse me?! I scoffed, not looking him in the eyes in fear my nerves would consume me.

I'm not sure why I was so worried. Nerves didn't look good on me.

“You really just say whatever’s on your mind, don’t you?”

He chuckled.

“Sometimes…”

His presence was oppressive. As I read the page in front of me for the tenth time, I could feel his eyes boring into my skull.

Okay, this is ridiculous.

I raised my head to meet his stare.

I could feel his gaze on me despite his sunglasses. My heart started racing. Even when he didn't want to be, he was super intimidating. He exuded dominance, which would undoubtedly come in handy during filming.

“Are you gonna leave now?”

I inquired as politely as I could. Unfortunately, I came across as bratty rather than kind. Cliff chuckled through a closed mouth.

“I think I’d rather stay here and stare at you a little longer.”

Now he was just messing with me.

“Fine… I don’t really care.”

I did care. I very much did care.

I couldn't think because he was standing over me. I was struggling to breathe. He had a hold on me just by being in the same room with me.

“Why are you even here? You’re a stunt double.”

I asked nonchalantly, my gaze fixed on the words on my script. I'm not sure why I said that. I only needed to talk to get my mind off the crushing weight of his presence.

“Boss said I have a good look…”

I could tell he was smirking. His tone was far too arrogant.

“I’m sure that stroked your ego.”

I flipped the page, focusing my attention on the script's words. It was the first scene.

It might be beneficial to take a close look at this.

“You’ve got fire in you… I like it.”

Oh, please. I could see where this was going. Did he think I wouldn't notice how his voice changed to add a sensual undertone to the conversation?

“Thank you… now please leave before I vomit all over your fifty cent boots.”

I wanted him out of my trailer so I could breathe normally again. He was staring at me like a hawk, and it was getting annoying and uncomfortable.

Cliff scoffed.

“Alright… I’ll leave you alone honey.”

My heart skipped a beat when I heard the pet name.

He turned and walked towards the door, his steps rattling the trailer slightly everytime his foot came into contact with the ground.

I let out a heavy sigh as he closed the door behind him, my chest collapsing with relief.

I lowered myself to the ground and began rummaging through the papers to compile the first scene. I was successful in organizing the papers into their respective scenes.

I read the first scene several times, making sure I knew every line from beginning to end. I even spoke aloud, rehearsing what I would say and how I would approach the dialogue in the most natural way.

I'd done enough research on David to know that he prefers to be free most of the time, which is why his films are so iconic. He believes in his actors and allows them to do almost anything they want while saying their lines as long as it appears natural.

So, it was my responsibility to put together a rough idea of my staging.

I couldn't help but look over to the bar scene to see what I was in for. I read it once, twice, and three times. I couldn't stop myself from skimming over the words.

I was in for a wild ride. This scene was completely wild.

A loud slam on my door startled me out of my daze.

“We’re filming now! Get on set!”

“I’ll be right out!”

I assumed we'd start the day with the first scene because I hadn't received any information to the contrary.

I took a few moments to myself. Before exhaling, I took a deep breath and stretched my arms above my head.

“Okay… let’s do this.”

As I approached the set, I noticed that the props and locations appeared to correspond with the first scene.

Thank God.

“Alright… First scene… get ready you guys.”

David addressed us from behind the camera, which was pointed directly at the set. I lowered my gaze, smoothing the wrinkles in my costume. Fortunately, I had not completely ruined the dress with sweat.

Cliff was dressed in the same outfit as before.

Was that his costume?

I suppose it did fit the character.

In a sense, the character reflected his own personality.

“Alright you guys… you know I’m a fan of improv so just do whatever the hell you feel like… just keep the lines the same… don’t leave anything out.”

David was a big fan of small groups as well. He didn't hire anyone unless he absolutely needed to. As a result, he was the sole operator of the camera.

He was truly iconic. This method of execution should not work... but David manages to make everything work despite the odds.

Cliff was prepared, standing in place, waiting for his chance to shine.

“Places…”

“Oh… right!”

I exclaimed, completely absorbed in my own thoughts. I walked onto the set, taking a random position and re-enacting the blocking I'd imagined in my head.

Only now would I have to work off of Cliff, making the job even more difficult.

I’ll be alright.

I can do this.

The first scene went very smoothly, we only needed one take to get it perfect.

“You guys are on fire! Alright, how about the club scene?!”

The club scene?

However, we were in the middle of the desert, where our characters were supposed to meet for the first time. It was extremely unlikely, but I had faith in David. When it comes to romance films, the more absurd, the better. People are drawn to a plot that they have never heard of before.

Besides, the entire point of this film was to be unlikely, almost impossible. A film in which critics will make ridiculous assumptions about hidden metaphors decades later.

“How are we gonna do the club scene when we’re in the middle of the desert, boss?”

Cliff was thinking the same thing as me.

David bit his bottom lip and gazed at the ground, thinking. He was a bit short-sighted for a theatrical genius at times.

“Well… let’s just do the post club scene shall we?... Cliff’s character is supposed to be broke despite how he presents himself… So using one of the trailers will suffice.”

Oh God… the post club scene meaning the scene where it is heavily hinted at that we-

“Sure… I’m good with that.”

Of course Cliff didn’t mind… he got to kiss a girl old enough to be his daughter.

“Y/N?”

David turned his eyes to me, as if he needed confirmation that everything was fine on my end.

I flushed bright red.

“Oh… yeah, sure… that’s fine… but, um… I didn’t really get a chance to look over my lines for that scene… and I-I think I need a different costume.”

David nodded.

“You’re right… let’s wait for an hour or so, so the sun can fully set… and so you guys can prepare.”

“Sure! Sounds great!”

I agreed a little too enthusiastically before hastening my way to my trailer. I had no doubt they'd be very suspicious of my rushed manor.

The trust was, I had gone over that scene twenty times before. I knew all of the lines backwards and forwards. I had spent time thinking about how much I would despise having to kiss him and pretend to be deeply in love with him.

That’s why I was blushing… because I was nervous… and I hated him.

I changed my outfit and did my own makeup.

Makeup and costume people were another thing David considered pointless. He was always saying how he preferred the actors to choose their own costumes based on what they thought was best, and to do their own makeup. He wanted his characters to be real people, people who were probably not great at clothing design or elaborate makeup techniques.

Fortunately, he offered to pay me more since I was basically doing all the work myself.

I must have done my makeup ten times to avoid having to think about the impending doom that was coming much sooner than expected. In the little mirror hanging on the wall of my trailer, I put it on, then took it off, then put it on again, then fixed every single minor error before taking it completely off.

As the sun began to set, I could see the light fading from my trailer and feel the sudden unease that struck me every time my mind wandered.

I swiped the eyeliner against my skin.

“Fuck.”

I muttered under my breath as I erased it all away with a wipe.

I should probably put it on for good, as filming time is quickly approaching.

I was about to apply my final stroke of eyeshadow when I heard a knock on the door and a voice telling me to come outside. I finished quickly, taking a deep breath, hoping for calm rather than preparation.

When I stepped outside, I felt naked and exposed in front of two fully grown men. Unfortunately, the short red dress I chose left little room for the imagination.

“Alright… I think we’d better use Cliff’s trailer since I’m sure it’s a mess.”

Dave and Cliff both laughed at David's terrible joke. I remained silent, only offering a small smile to indicate that I was listening.

I wasn't paying attention. I was thinking about how much this was going to suck, at least for me anyway.

I thought of how much it would suck to have Cliff feeling me up and pretending I enjoyed it.

Because I’d definitely hate it.

I’d hate how his rough hands would feel against my soft skin.

Ew. I don’t like that I had that thought.

The scene was… a big mess of emotions. I wasn’t sure what exactly I should feel at any given moment. My entire mine was plagued with scattered thoughts that would lead to unintentional and completely ludicrous places.

By the time it was completely over, my face was flushed bright red and my heart was beating out of my chest.

I slammed my trailer door shut, heaving breaths of anxiety.

Oh God… that was too much.

The way he was touching me… I wanted to hate it so bad. I hated myself for allowing myself to enjoy it.

The worst part of it was… we needed more than one take.

Which meant I had to feel him touching me in every place the sun touched. I had to feel his lips against mine and try to pretend I was seconds away from moaning into his mouth while David stood behind a camera and recorded us.

God I wish we could just do those things in private.

No, no I don’t. What am I talking about?! I definitely don’t want that.

He was in my trailer, standing in the frame while I was busy agonizing over my thoughts. I didn’t notice him at first.

“Oh! Um… I’m sorry I didn’t see you there…”

I swallowed my anxiety, my gaze fixed on the ground below me as my insides shook violently, plaguing me with heavy waves of unease.

He knew what I was thinking.

He knew exactly what I was thinking.

How could he not?

“I’m just gonna cut to the chase because I think you know what all of this is about.”

I did.

I knew exactly what all of this was about.

I knew exactly where this was going.

And I couldn’t help but grow wet at the mere thought of where this night would undoubtedly lead.

“You were gettin’ antsy in that last scene.”

He placed a curled finger under my chin, forcing my head upwards to meet his gaze.

“Waddya have to say about that?”

I gulped.

“I don’t know.”

“I think you do know…”

“I…”

I sounded pitiful. Cliff was obviously a man who knew exactly what he wanted, so I expected him to become frustrated and antsy. Instead, he seemed amused, finding my discomfort humorous.

He scoffed.

“Alright honey…”

My lower abdomen fluttered at the pet name.

“Since you don’t wanna talk I guess I’ll have to work it outta ya.”

His voice dropped to just barely above a sensual whisper, his newfound tone making my stomach flip upside down.

He smashed my lips into mine without hesitation, pushing me backwards with extreme force until my knees smacked against the couch, knocking me into a sitting position until I was eye level with his large belt buckle.

His hand caressed my jaw, tilting it upwards to meet his crushing gaze.

Cliff’s calloused fingertips grazed sensually against my lips, raising goosebumps along my spine. He took his time, ensuring I was aching by the time he was done getting under my skin.

“God you’re beautiful…”

He mumbled almost incoherently.

“You wanna suck my cock babygirl?… you want me to cum in that pretty little mouth of yours?”

I swallowed, my throat becoming constricted with fear.

I clenched my thighs together in an attempt to relieve the ache in my core.

“Speak up honey… otherwise I’ll leave while you’re aching.”

I took a shaky breath, reaching up with trembling hands to undo his belt.

Cliff dropped his hand to the side, releasing his tender grip on my jaw.

The metal buckle continued to slip from my shaky hands. My nerves transformed the simple task into a nearly impossible process.

“Don’t be nervous…”

My cheeks flushed red as I tried to keep my eyes on the rusty golden buckle so I didn’t become intimidated.

“Hey. Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

He demanded, his voice becoming firm yet keeping the mumbling tone.

I gathered my courage, trialing my eyes upwards to glance at him through my lashes.

“Don’t be nervous… after I fill you pretty mouth with my thick cock I’ll make you cum so hard your whole body will be begging me for more.”

I clenched my jaw, tearing my eyes away from him to fully undo his belt and slip it through the loops with a loud whoosh.

I felt his large cock growing hard through his jeans as my hands gently grazed over his clothed erection. My mouth watered as I unbuttoned his pants and dragged the denim down his muscular thick thighs.

I palmed him through the thin fabric of his boxers, eliciting a low moan from the back of Cliff’s throat as he threw his head backwards and exposed his adams apple.

His hands found their place on my scalp, tangling his fingers into my locks.

“Put my fucking cock in your mouth before I make you regret it…”

His grip tightened in my hair, pulling the strands from my scalp. I couldn’t help but groan at the pain, pushing the noises down into the pit of my stomach.

“No teasing.”

He demanded, his voice now breathy and thick with anticipation.

“Okay…”

I murmured timidly, swallowing my nerves as I hooked a finger in the waistband of his boxers and tugged them down his legs until they pooled around his ankles.

I was eye level with his cock, which was incredibly thick and unmistakingly the most beautiful dick I’d ever seen in my entire life.

Which wasn’t saying much, as I wasn’t the most experienced person on set.

The aching in my cunt grew when I was able to fully take in his glorious cock, and began thinking of how it would feel inside of me, fantastically stretching my walls.

My face was burning hot with desire as I tenderly grasped his length, giving it a few gentle pumps.

Cliff sighed deeply, loosening his grip on my hair once he realized I would gladly take control.

“You’re beautiful Cliff…”

I wasn’t sure what I should say now that I was so close to having his cock inside of me, but I figured he’d appreciate a gentle compliment.

Cliff scoffed.

“Thank you honey… you’re not too bad yourself.”

His line was painfully cliche, but I didn’t mind. This situation was making me far too aroused to care about a cliche.

I took his cock into my mouth, immediately thrusting it towards the back of my throat with eagerness.

Cliff groaned and moaned as I bobbed my head along his length, the pleasure filled sounds adding to the pooling wetness in my damp panties.

His grip tightened, not in frustration, but in the sheer pleasure of my warm mouth bobbing along his veiny cock.

“Fuck… you’re such a good girl.”

He gasped in between strangled moans.

I was already a mess and he had hardly touched me. My heart was pounding. My face was flushed bright red. My panties were soaking wet and my cunt was aching to the point of pain.

I was antsy, antsy to feel him throbbing inside of me.

Cliff threw his head downwards, his eyes boring into my skull as his strong grip assisted me in bobbing my head along him.

His tip was hitting the back of my throat. I almost gagged as he began to buck his hips into my mouth.

Tears of pleasure were forming at the corners of my eyes, and a few escaped my eyelids and began to roll down my cheeks.

I glanced up at him through my thick lashes, his crushing stare making my heart flutter with anticipation.

His lips were wet with saliva, his teeth clenched, the muscles on his jaw protruding from the sides of his cheeks.

It filled me with pride to know I had such a profound effect on him. I wrapped my hands around his muscular thighs to steady myself as I began to take his cock with my urgency.

“Oh my… fuck… you’re such a slut for me.”

Cliff's hips were thrusting aggressively into my mouth, the tip of my nose brushing against his happy trail.

“You’re gonna make me cum so hard honey… I can’t wait to feel your sweet little pussy around my throbbing cock.”

His length began to twitch in my mouth, the salty taste of precum lingering on my tongue.

With a few more thrusts, Cliff was falling over the edge into the realm of pleasure. His chest collapsed as he unloaded his cum into the back of my throat, his grip on my hair suddenly loosening as he reached his high.

I bobbed my head twice more along his dick to help him ride out his orgasm before removing my mouth with a pop.

Cliff was breathing heavily, his chest heaving with gasps as he came down to earth after an intense orgasm.

He dropped his hand to his side, relaxing his body as we both mentally prepared ourselves for what was yet to come.

“You ready for me honey?”

He asked, a big stupid smile plastered on his smug face.

I gulped, resting my hands in my lap as I nodded my head meekly.

Cliff brought his hands to the front of his shirt, glancing down at the buttons as he began to undo them.

With every button, he exposed his chiseled body, glistening with sweat.

Cliff dropped the fabric to the floor with a soft thud, now fully naked and exposed in front of my inexperienced eyes. Being fully clothed in front of him added an additional layer of anticipation to the situation.

“Stand… let me undress you.”

He commanded, and I followed his orders, standing on my shaky knees.

Cliff glued his eyes to my chest, grazing his fingertips sensually over my collarbone, raising goosebumps on my skin.

He moved his hand to my shoulder, pushing my spaghetti strap down until it hung limply. He did the same with the other side until my dress was hanging loosely on my body.

I stared at the floor as Cliff grasped onto the deep neckline of my dress, pulling it down until I was dressed only in my underwear. The cool breeze hardened my nipples.

I gasped as Cliff connected his warm mouth with the sensitive skin on my neck, raising my hands to gently rest on top of his shoulders.

He kissed and nipped on my skin. He grasped my hips and tugged my forward until our bodies were pressed flush together. I could feel the warmth radiating off of his perfect body.

Cliff kicked off his shoes, pushing me backward as an indication that it was time for me to lay down.

I followed his instruction, finding a comfortable place on my stiff couch as he settled in between my legs, hovering over me, his lips moving expertly against my neck.

I tangled my hands in his hair, squeezing my eyes shut and dropped my jaw as his lips hit every single sweet spot on my neck and collarbone.

“Cliff… please… I need you.”

Cliff smirked against my skin.

“Beg for it… I wanna hear you beg for my cock.”

He murmured against the crook of my neck, his body pressed firmly into mine, his cock so close to my aching cunt.

“Please Cliff… I need you to fuck me.”

“Keep going…”

I gasped as he bit a patch of sensitive skin on my collarbone.

“Please Cliff… my pussy is aching so bad for you… I need you to fill me up… I need your cock throbbing inside of me.”

I begged hard, not caring about how utterly pitiful I sounded.

“Alright honey… I’ll give you what you want.”

He lined himself up with my entrance, pushing himself inside of me and stretching my walls to the max.

I moaned loudly, grasping onto his hair for leverage.

He began pounding into me, hardly giving me any time to adjust to his thick girth.

He snapped his hips forward, his pelvis smashing into mine as he thrusted mercilessly into my aching cunt.

“Fuck Y/N… you feel so fucking good… you’re so wet.”

Cliff’s voice was just as fucked out as mine. Either he was truly breathless, or he knew how much his strained gasps drove me crazy.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, giving him a complete new angle to attack my cunt.

Tears of pleasure began to return to my eyes as his thick tip slammed against my g spot with every eager thrust.

Cliff removed his face from the crook of my neck to stare into my fucked out face. He was taking in every single feature and relishing in the fact that he was completely ruining me.

“Oh God you’re such a fucking slut for me… I love it…”

I furrowed my eyebrows as I became so incredibly close to the edge.

“Cliff… I’m gonna cum.”

I was crying tears of pleasure as his girth continued to slam into my g spot.

“Look at me honey… I wanna watch your face as you cum all over my cock.”

I held eye contact as his last few thrusts made me topple over the edge, unleashing my orgasm with a strained moan.

It hit me like a freight train, knocking the breath out of me as my lungs collapsed with glorious pleasure.

Cliff followed shortly after, our combined juices dripping onto the couch below as he gave a few more thrusts to help both of us ride out our orgasms.

We maintained eye contact until we both of our hearts had begun to beat normally once more.

I felt… good, fulfilled, happy. That was the greatest orgasm I had ever experienced in my entire life. I was on cloud nine.

Cliff pulled out of me, a strand of cum attaching my body to his.

He crawled downwards until he was in between my legs, burying his face in between my thighs as he lapped up our combined juices.

I sighed with post orgasm pleasure as I allowed Cliff’s expert mouth to clean me up.

He climbed off the couch when he was satisfied with his work, immediately beginning to redress.

I stared at the ceiling, a stupidly big smile on my face as I allowed myself to live throguh the previous events of this glorious night once more.

“I’ll see you tomorrow honey… maybe we can do this again?”

I tilted my head to the side, my cheek pressing against the scratchy fabric of the couch.

“Definitely…”

We both chuckled before Cliff bid me an adieu, making his way back to his trailer as quietly as possible to avoid suspicion.

Who knew Cliff Booth was a man sent by the gods? A Hollywood hunk, a James Bond, a womanizer.

He was everything perfect wrapped into one.

Except he wasn’t James Bond, he was Cliff Booth.

946 notes · View notes

free-pool-trash · 4 years ago

Text

happiness - peter maximoff

yay a new peter fic <3 i was feeling a little unmotivated for a few days (since our boy wasn’t in episode 8 at all :/) but im back 😎 although im back in school so i might be on and off for a while 😩✋🏻

!!!it’s not a songfic those lyrics at the start are just my inspo!!!

word count: 5k <3 😳

warnings: maybe swearing but i dont think so i cant remember, peter being sad, angst, but mostly fluff, WandaVision spoilers maybe??? I pretty much made up this plot so idk, endgame spoilers, reader was an avenger, kissing but it’s not graphic😽 probably some mistakes yk how it is

feedback is appreciated <3

tagging: @enchantedcruelsummer (should i make a peter maximoff taglist? let me know and I’ll do it)

masterlist

haunted by the look in my eyes that would’ve loved you for a lifetime

leave it all behind

& there is happiness

Loneliness had always been something that plagued him. That and a plethora of other negative emotions.

There wasn’t a day that went by where Peter Maximoff wasn’t made to feel like a loser. Admittedly, he’d never held himself to a high standard, he grew up thinking that he’d never fit in anywhere and eventually that thought mutated into a lifestyle as he began isolating himself from the world around him, either far too good or heartbreakingly not enough to be a part of that crowd.

He liked spending time with himself. Nobody else knew him the way he knew him, and still, he found nothing but an overwhelming hollow space where his deepest most important hopes, aspirations, dreams and self discoveries should have resided.

Peter had always put this feeling of exile down to the fact that he was a mutant, it was the most likely explanation, right?

It was only when he’d decided to join the X-Men that he finally came to the conclusion that maybe the rest of the world wasn’t the problem, nor was his mutation the problem, but that he himself was the problem. For even in a school full of people exactly like him he was still the same loser that he was in his mother’s basement.

And he was under no illusions that that was exactly what his teammates saw in him; nothing. No potential. Just a space holder to bring the numbers up.

Super speed was incredible. That’s how Peter acknowledged jobs well done, he praised his speed but never himself. He just saved Charles and Erik from a room full of armed guards? No that wasn’t him, that was simply his speed. He saved an entire mansion full of people from a potentially fatal explosion? Nothing special, Kurt probably could’ve done the same.

Forget all of the good deeds and saved lives because the bottom line of it all, to him at least, was that all he was good for was cheeky one liners and hopeless kleptomania.

His life took a turn for the worse when he found himself being mind controlled in an alternate universe. And even then, he was playing the part of someone that wasn’t him, the thought humbled him, reconnected him to his roots and reintroduced him to his life long philosophy that he’d never be anything more than a social pariah. Not even an alternate reality could accept him for who he was. There wasn’t a warm welcome and despite not knowing what was going on, the definition of “imposter” or the weirder, “recast”, still shot to kill.

He settled on the notion that he was an inter dimensional waste of space. At least in WestView he could be blissfully ignorant, let the real him be drowned mercilessly in favour of being an integral part of someone’s life- to feel important, even if it wasn’t real.

When WestView fell apart he was completely lost. In every sense of the word. In a new world with no way home and as it turned out, nobody was looking for him. Although he didn’t expect anyone to care, it still stung that nobody did. He always hoped that one day Erik would step up as a father figure for him, this; getting kidnapped and smuggled into a different dimension, seemed like the perfect moment for that epic father son moment, but it wouldn’t surprise Peter if his father has yet to notice his disappearance.

But then, seemingly out of nowhere, he came into contact with a beacon of hope. A guiding star that might possibly lead him to an existence consisting of something other than misery and self loathing.

It offered him a choice; return to being the self proclaimed loser he was known as or start fresh as someone new and mysterious, with first impressions yet to be made and conclusions about him yet to be drawn. Peter had known himself to be rash in the past, when it came to making decisions he had the tendency to act impulsively, never putting too much thought into how his decisions would affect his life in the long term. The choice before him now is no different, he knew exactly what he wanted going forward, however selfish the choice may have been, the second he realised it was an option his heart was set on it.

That previously mentioned beacon of hope arrived to him in the form of a girl, in the form of you. An ex-avenger and close friend of Wanda’s, you were hired by S.W.O.R.D to help them clean up the more ‘sensitive’ fallout that the fall of WestView brought about. Obviously, they were sticking you- the only other avenger with magik- on babysitting and rehabilitation rather than letting you go after your best friend who had gone completely off the rails. Having said that though, you didn’t want anyone else handling him.

You hadn’t watched WandaVision, nor were you even aware that any of it was going on until it had reached a boiling point and you got a call from Monica Rambeau, she’d begged you to come and wait on the edge of town while she went in and act as her eyes on the outside along with Jimmy Woo.

That’s where you stayed until the hex broke down.

As soon as the barrier came down the base you manned was overrun by an armada of terribly confused and distressed citizens, Monica and Wanda were not among them but in their places stumbled in Darcy and the man playing the role of Pietro.

Jimmy appointed himself to Darcy, who in all honesty seemed relatively unscathed by the situation while you made a beeline for the dirty blonde charading as your former, dead teammate.

Peter was, to put it simply, completely enthralled by you as soon as you’d strolled over to him and in the moment he’d put his almost magnetic attraction to you down to the fact that you were the first friendly face he’d seen upon breaking free of Agatha’s possession.

But one thing in particular struck him; you’d asked him his name. You hadn’t immediately assumed him to be some knock off Pietro, as everyone else had. You acknowledged that he had his own personal identity and despite how often he caught himself hating the person he was, he found that when it was torn away from him that he wanted it back. The simple question you posed gave him the opportunity to regain his identity.

“Peter. My name is Peter.” He answered you, almost unsure of himself and you found your interest in the man piqued even further.

He remembered with perfect clarity the way you’d offered him a grin, tilted your hand, extended your hand and said, “Well it’s nice to meet you, Peter. Come on, I’ll be your babysitter for the next while.” There was something about the way you’d laughed after saying the words and the slight, yet unmistakable, glint of mischief in your eyes that had him captivated from the get go.

With you came a whirlwind of new emotions. After only a few weeks of knowing you, Peter noticed he wasn’t as lonely as he had been back home. He didn’t hate himself half as much either, he wasn’t entirely free of self deprovative tendencies and maybe he never would be, but undoubtedly, he likes himself more in this world than he ever had in his last. He thanked you and your determination to make him “a functioning member of society” for that.

It didn’t feel belittling, the way you helped him. You hadn’t dragged him to your favourite mall every weekend just to taunt him about how he couldn’t stop himself from stealing something. Even the very first time, when he’d sped away from you and returned within a second adoring a pair of freshly stolen sunglasses. Your only reaction had been to laugh and casually place your hands on both sides of his face.

“At least remember to take the tag off next time, speedy.” You’d muttered, subtly pulling the tacky stickers off the arms of his shades. No, you weren’t dragging him sight seeing or forcing him to help you go clothes shopping because you thought he was a loser who needed reforming you were doing it because you were a true friend who wanted him to succeed.

The pair of you seemed like two peas in a pod. Which to be fair, you were. Peter Maximoff intrigued you in every sense of the word. He was new, quite literally other worldly, he was kind, he was funny, he was perfectly mischievous and completely wonderful.

What caught your eye the most was the way he held himself, as if he wasn’t entirely comfortable in his own skin. It became apparent to you that he lacked confidence with the phrases he usually tacked onto the ends of his sentences. When you’d invite him to hang out in the beginning his response would always be something along the lines of, “Sure. If you want me to.” But the excitable puppy dog eyes told you that he was dying for someone to want him to tag along some place.

There was a certain understanding between you. You were both more than accustomed with the harrowing feeling of being alone and even though you’d never exactly voiced those thoughts with each other, you couldn’t deny that his was a spirit kindred to your own and he felt it too.

Since the Avengers has disbanded, one of your best friends, Natasha, was dead and your other best friend, Wanda, was gone completely off the rails and the people chasing her wouldn’t let you anywhere near her or even attempt to help pull her out of her darkness. You were being kept as a wildcard in case they needed her taken down. Peter was no stranger to the feeling of being cast aside and so he quickly responded to your frustrations, and in doing so, forced himself out of his comfort zone to be there for you. To his complete shock though, you’d been so appreciative of his efforts.

You never failed to thank him for the little things he did for you, always complimenting his mutation when he’d use it and giving him the recognition he never received at home. The friendship he formed with you was so… two sided, again, something he wasn’t accustomed to before. It didn’t involve him giving everything he had to offer and receiving nothing in return, you matched his energy meticulously and never left him hanging.

In a series of firsts, he didn’t wonder whether or not you genuinely liked him, never feeling the need or want to question it as you’d left him with no reason to doubt.

As he walked around the mall with you now, his mind brought his attention back to the question you’d asked him rather casually a few nights ago. You were both lounging on your couch, watching some ridiculous reality show (a favourite of yours and Peter’s) when you’d turned your head to look at him, a thoughtful look on your face. “Do you think when S.W.O.R.D figures the technology out to crack into other realities, you’ll go back to yours?”

The question had taken him aback for a second, in all honesty, he hadn’t thought about going home, not when he was with you at least and considering he’d become your roommate about three weeks after he got out of WestView, the thought of returning to his old life had barely crossed his mind.

Being an ex-Avenger you were fairly well off, you lived alone in a two bedroom apartment in New York that you’d bought to be closer to Stark tower. Peter had nowhere to go and aside from having a spare room to offer you’d also been sort of lost in the current of the busy city with everyone you once loved in the area either dead, on the run or busy elsewhere.

While the question hadn’t crossed Peter’s mind, it had crossed yours on several occasions. He’d been staying with you for six months and the moment you realised that he was becoming one of the most important people in your life, the thought of him leaving you too weighed on your mind but at the end of the day you wanted him to feel happy. He deserved to feel happy and if going back to his reality brought him that happiness then you’d support him.

“Dunno,” he’d replied, turning to face you, chucking a handful of popcorn at you when you looked incredulous at his response, “To be honest I haven’t really thought about it, m’way too busy babysitting you anyway.” He joked, effortlessly dodging the few pieces of popcorn you attempted to throw at him.

For the last few nights, the question haunted him, but it wasn’t just the question that was bothering him. You were at the forefront of his mind as he replayed the past six months of his life which also happened to be the best six months of his life. WestView put him through hell but coming out the other side of it and meeting you felt like heaven.

He weighed up the pros and cons of returning to his native timeline. The cons: he’d have to leave you behind, he’d go back to being the loser who nobody took seriously, his talents would be downplayed and disregarded and he’d inevitably end up revisiting his lifestyle of solitude. Then there was the pros: he’d get to reunite with his pac man machine. He couldn’t manage to think up anything else.

If he stayed he’d have everything he ever wanted and needed. You’d be there and he knew you always would be, besides he couldn’t leave you knowing that you needed him. If he left who would wake you up when you had night terrors about the catastrophe that your reality was still recovering from? There would be nobody there to comfort you when you woke up from the nightmares, reliving the deaths of Natasha, Tony or Vision and the experience of being snapped out of existence? If he wasn’t there to make you laugh when you were about to cry then who would be? In his heart of hearts he knew you had a huge support system at your disposal, he’d met most of them. Even though he was well aware that Sam visited you as often as he could, that Bucky wrote you letters on a monthly basis and sometimes tagged along with Sam on his visits, that Stephen Strange appeared in your apartment whenever the urge struck him, that the literal god of thunder invited you out for beer whenever he was visiting Earth, that the little spider-kid, also named Peter, swung by your apartment at least once a week to tell you all about school and his good deeds. Despite knowing all of this and knowing all of these people loved you dearly, Peter wanted to be your main source of support, he didn’t want to be someone who came and went, who’d love you then leave you. He wanted to be with you through anything and everything and the feeling that you’d love him for a lifetime had him satisfied with the decision he was about to make.

If leaving his old life meant he could stay here, with you, and experience happiness for more than a fleeting moment then he’d simply; leave it all behind.

“I’ve been thinking about what you asked me the other night.” He spoke through a mouthful of curly fries. You were sitting in the food court of the mall when he decided to let you in on his desire to stay with you indefinitely.

You raised your eyebrow, “You? Putting thought into an answer? Peter, I think I’m starting to become a bad influence on you.” You told him teasingly, taking a long sip of your drink as he rolled his eyes humorously.

“You’re a terrible influence which is exactly why I’ve decided to stay here and put you on the straight and narrow.” The glee you felt at his statement was undeniable, your eyes lit up and your lips curled upwards.

“You’re staying? Really staying?” Your smile was contagious, Peter’s face now painted with a wide grin as he nodded his head.

In a moment of weakness he frantically added, “Y’know only if you want me to though. If you don’t that’s completely cool.” He rushed through the words, feeling more embarrassed when the fond look on your face never faded.

“Of course I want you to stay. You mean a lot to me.” You reassured him, a gentle smile on your lips as you reached across the metal table, intertwining your fingers with his.

Peter squeezed your hand gratefully, holding it in his grasp securely and allowing his smile to return to his face, “I know. You mean a lot to me too.” It was somewhat of an understatement, he was starting to understand that you didn’t just mean a lot, but that you meant everything.

His resolution lifted a huge weight off your shoulders that you wouldn’t be losing yet another best friend. You were glad he’d be with you when everything blew over with Wanda, the two of them definitely had the potential to develop a beautiful sibling relationship and they both deserved that. Of course, Peter would never replace Pietro and having known them both it was obvious just how different the two men were, the only thing they had in common being their powers and last name. Still, he and Wanda would still be able to work on it. He didn’t hate her after WestView and you knew Wanda well enough to know that she was kind hearted and she’d be more than willing to give him a chance. When she eventually comes back to her senses, that it.

As the months went on, life with you and Peter seemed to only get better. You never stopped laughing, your nightmares died down and Peter had taken on a whole new lease of life. Yourself and Peter were the perfect example of meeting the right person at the right time, you balanced each other out and accentuated the other’s good qualities.

Peter could now say with complete confidence that he was happy and what’s more is that he was finally sure that he was making someone happy.

Up until nearly eleven months of living together your relationship had been purely platonic, save for the constant flirting but flirtation pretty much ran in yours and Peter’s blood. Peter wasn’t going to lie to himself, he’d fallen for you the second you’d peeled the security tags off his stolen sunglasses.

You, on the other hand, had been fighting with yourself because yes, you love Peter but you couldn’t have told him when there was the possibility he’d eventually leave and now so much time has passed and you’ve got such a good thing going you didn’t have it in you to ruin it.

However, all of that changed when your original Maximoff best friend came knocking on your door.

Wanda was on the run. She’d caused an amazing amount of chaos but Stephen Strange and S.W.O.R.D were hot on her trail and now she needed a place to lay low with the twins. She figured there was no place more reliable to go than to the always open arms of her best friend, who conveniently had a divinity for earth magik and could muster up a protective barrier without raising suspicions. And that’s exactly where she found herself; outside your door.

You’d been chasing Peter around the apartment when you heard the knock on the door. Peter was on the opposite end of the kitchen to you, using the bar as a shield from you. “You better get that.”

“Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you?” You glared as you spoke, it was his own fault really. What sort of idiot jumpscares a witch while she’s mid-meditation? He’d frightened you so badly you accidentally blasted a ball of your signature green energy and ruined your favourite couch throw pillow. When you were ready to pounce on the scared speedster the knocks sounded again, more frantic this time.

With one last glare towards Peter you stomped towards the door. Your anger melted away completely when you saw her. Her hood was up and she looked completely exhausted, two small hooded little boys by her side.

“Wanda…” You breathed out, relief flooding your system at the sight of her alive. She didn’t get a chance to speak before your arms were pulling her against you tightly, hugging her as if your life depended on it. Wanda returned in your embrace, allowing herself to relax for the first time in nearly a year, she sniffled against your shoulder, holding back tears as she realised how much she’d truly missed you.

Billy and Tommy watched in confusion as their mother cried into your shoulder. They didn’t know who you were, all their mother had told them was that they were going somewhere safe.

It was the yell of one of the boys that caused you and Wanda to separate, “Uncle P!” With that you felt a familiar rush of air across your leg but instead of Peter appearing one of the kids was gone.

You shared a perplexed look with Wanda, although your confusion was for different reasons.

“Hey hell raisers!” Peter responded, catching the mini speedster who all but threw himself at him barely regaining his balance before the other child had flung himself into the hug.

“Wanda? Those two… are they...?” You started, at a loss for words Wanda cut you off quietly, her tone as disbelieving as yours.

“My children? Yes. Is that…?” You nodded your head numbly, anticipating the end of her question.

“Your fake brother? Yeah.” Quickly, you realised you and a wanted woman catching up with the door wide open wasn’t ideal and you ushered Wanda inside, shutting the door when she walked in.

“Hey.” Peter greeted her simply, as if he hadn’t been used as a meat puppet in her altered reality. It wasn’t in his nature to hold any grudges.

“Hi?” Wanda replied, her voice still twinged with confusion.

“Peter, will you keep an eye on the kids for a bit? Wanda and I have some catching up to do.” You asked him with a nervous laugh, just thankful that Wanda was too tired to argue with your suggestion.

Peter ruffled the boys’ hair and gave you a grin, “Only if you stop trying to kill me.”

You rolled your eyes as you began to lead Wanda into your bedroom, “You’re on probation, jerk.” You called over your shoulder.

Once you were securely in your bedroom, the door locked and sitting comfortably you fixed Wanda with an amused look, “I’d ask you what’s new but I’m not sure I even wanna know.”

Wanda gave you a sad smile while she shook her head, “No, you probably don’t. I will tell you tomorrow, I don’t want to get into it tonight. I’m so tired.” She admitted, her voice overcome with sadness.

“I’ll pump up the air mattress and you and the boys can sleep in here for however long you need. I’d offer you the spare room but that’s where Peter’s been staying and I don’t think empty food containers are the kind of decor you’d be into.” Wanda nodded, squeezing your hand gratefully.

“So his name is Peter?” She asked, curious about the man Agatha had used to trick her in WestView.

You nodded in confirmation, “Yeah. Peter Maximoff, actually.”

Wanda’s brows came to a furrow at that, “Maximoff? So he’s a relation?”

“Yes and no. Peter is from a different reality but he’s still a Maximoff and he’s got super speed. So, and this is just my theory, while you’re not directly related he could still be your brother- if you wanted him to.” You explained, as gently as you could, not trying to push her too far but to nudge the idea in her direction.

Wanda, to your surprise, didn't seem to hate the suggestion, “What is he like?”

A genuine smile made it onto your face then, as you shot into your description of your roommate, “He’s caring, funny, a little bit of a kleptomaniac but he’s working on it. He’s understanding and moronically selfless, moronic in the sense that he doesn’t even realise he’s being selfless. Huge pain in the ass too.” Wanda had a soft smile on her face by the time you’d finished.

“You like him.” Was all she said and you let out a laugh in disbelief, standing up and opening the door.

“Go grab a shower. I’ll have Peter blow up the air mattress while I go introduce myself to my god sons.”

“I thought you’d at least wait until I actually asked you.” Wanda laughed as you walked out of the room.

Things moved fairly quickly after that. As promised you introduced yourself to Billy and Tommy as their god mother, which they seemed more than thrilled about and you assumed that excitement had to do with whatever description of you Peter had given them. Wanda and the twins were all cleaned and fed and had all but collapsed into bed, foregoing the air mattress and huddling together in your double bed instead.

“Where are you sleeping, mother Teresa?” Peter teased as he noticed your eyes drooping where you stood.

“On the couch probably. Or the air mattress.” You mumbled, cutting yourself off with a yawn.

Peter, unimpressed with your options, scoffed, “No way. Come on, you can bunk with me.”

Much like Wanda, you were too tired to argue and you let Peter pull you to his, surprisingly clean, room by the hand.

You both crawled into the bed, lying close together despite the amount of empty space on the mattress.

“How are you feeling about all of this?” Your soft voice broke through the silence and Peter turned his head to look at you.

“About Wanda?” You nodded your head, watching him intently as he rolled onto his side, facing you more comfortably.

Peter shrugged lightly, “I’m feeling ok. Just glad the twins still see me as their cool uncle.” You let out a small laugh at his response.

“Wanda was asking about you. Seemed interested in getting to know the real you.” You informed him, your heartwarming as you watched a hopeful look fall across his face.

A lull settled over the room once again and Peter caught himself staring at you. His eyes drifted over every visible part of you, reminding him of most of the points on his pros list for staying in your universe; your eyes, your lashes, your nose, your lips, you.

“What’re you thinking about?” The sound of your tired voice pulled him out of his thoughts and ultimately pushed him to bite the bullet and tell you how he’s feeling. With you curled up beside him, in his bed, fighting sleep just to stay in his company for as long as you could; he knew there would be no better time.

“Just about how happy I am to be here with you.” He answered you honestly, the butterflies in both of your stomachs fluttering in sync at his words.

You trailed a hand under the duvet and onto the bedsheets between your bodies, feeling around until you found his hand and gently intertwined your fingers. “I’m happy you decided to stay.”

“What you’ve all gone through in this timeline sucks- don’t get me wrong-“ Peter started sincerely, scooting closer to you and dropping his head back down on the edge of your pillow, leaving the pair of you practically nose to nose as he went on.

“And I hate that Wanda had to go through so much… but I’m really glad that it led me to you.” Peter swore in that moment, right after the confession left his mouth, that he could die right now and be completely content knowing that you now knew how he felt.

His heart stopped, and he thought that maybe he was about to die, when you gave him the softest, sweetest smile he’d ever been on the receiving end of and whispered, “I feel the same.”

Time moved in slow motion as he felt you moving your intertwined hands towards your lips, your lips pressed gently against the back of Peter’s hand before you brought them to rest against your chest.

It was a fact to say that Peter Maximoff had never felt intimacy quite like this before. But, experiencing it now, with you, led him to wonder how he’d ever survived without it. He wasn’t sure whether it was natural to crave more, especially when the affection you were showing him was so gentle, but he didn’t care as he let the impulsive side of him take over.

Not sparing another word, Peter closed the small distance between your lips and his. His free hand cupped your jaw while yours wasted no time in getting tangled in his silver hair.

His lips moved softly and surprisingly slowly over yours and he savoured the feeling of your hand holding his while your other got lost in his hair, your body pressed up against him, the way your jaw moved against his palm as you reciprocated the movement of his lips and the taste of your lips, promising himself he’d never let the memory slip from his mind for as long as he lived.

With complete clarity, Peter could say he had felt true, genuine happiness and he had no doubt in his mind that there was absolutely nothing Charles, Hank, Scott or anyone else from his original timeline could say to make him leave this happiness behind. Because in the process of forgetting his old life, he couldn’t deny that he has undoubtedly found himself in the position of a man who had so much more to live for.

#peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wandavision x reader #wandavision spoilers #x men x reader #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #mcu #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader

630 notes · View notes

purrincess-chat · 4 years ago

Text

Cat’s Not-All-Encompassing Character Ranking

Okay, so I have to admit that I omitted a lot of characters I don't have strong opinions on. Most of them were one-off akumas, so don't get your panties in a twist, your faves are probably still on here (and ranked lower than you think).

As a preface again, these are just my personal opinions. They can't hurt you. You can still like characters more or less than me. And I don't care how you feel about them. This list is for me. And the person that asked for it. So shut up. Go make your own rank list if you’re so butthurt.

We're going in reverse order this time, starting from the bottom:

84. Gabriel Agreste- I mean, is anyone surprised? I am not private about how I think Gabriel should go to jail. Or fall off a cliff. Or be erased from existence. Rip to those that like him, but I’m different.

83. Thomas Astruc- Honestly, he’s down here on principle. Self-inserts are generally a no-no, and I just laugh every time I see him on screen because he really put himself in this show and said boohoo no one appreciates me XD

82. Bob Roth- I feel like this one should also be obvious. He’s just a dick. Terrible human. I give him 0 stars.

81. Tomoe Tsurugi- We all collectively hate her, right? It’s not just me?

80. Su Han- This mans has small peepee energy. And he bad mouthed Fu, so get FUCKED, my dude.

79. Rolland Dupain- Listen, I get it, he liked Marinette in the end, but I could do without the racism.

78. Nathalie Sancoeur- My opinion of Nathalie took a nosedive after the s2 finale. I just do not care that she is in love with her boss. Don’t care that she’s dying. Just do not have it in me.

77. XY- Justin Bieber ass wannabe.

76. Nora Cesiare- I didn’t care for Nora. I know Thomas loves her, but the overbearing sibling trope is tired.

75. Anarka Couffaine- I underestimated how much I don’t really like her. Like, it’s not full-on hate, but I just do not care for her.

74. Otis Cesaire- Got akumatized because a kid said he could outrun a panther. I’m still not over it, Otis.

73. Andre Bourgeois- No love for the crooked mayor. I hope your wife divorces you.

72. Alec Cataldi- The real villain of Stormy Weather. Like fr why is he such an asshole?

71. Roger Raincomprix- Is Officer Roger just doing his best? Sometimes. But like sometimes this mans just needs to take a chill pill.

70. M. D'Argencourt- Please get out of the 1600s

69. Ella/Etta- These two are basically the same character, and I am indifferent to both of them.

68. KnightOwl/Barbara- Listen, I would have liked you more if you were less controlling.

67. Majestia- Same as above, but like I guess I like you more

66. Theo- *Mean Girls principal voice* Stay away from underaged girls!

65. Andre the ice cream man- I just want a scoop of chocolate, Andre. Is that too much to ask??

64. Amelie Graham de Vanily- We haven’t seen much of her, but she seems like a snake bitch.

63. M. Kubdel- I mean, if my son wanted to resurrect an ancient mummy and believed in aliens, I’d give the family heirloom to my daughter too.

62. Jalil Kubdel- Lolol, buddy, pal, dude, my guy. Chill.

61. Vincent (Adrien's photographer)- Head empty. Mom’s spaghetti. Idk he’s alright.

60. Manon- I don’t hate Manon. She just gets on my nerves every time she talks.

59. M. Ramier- This mans got akumatized a billion times because he gets emotional about pigeons. I mean, honestly mood.

58. Mme. Mendeleiev- She doesn’t put up with Chloe’s shit, and we respect her for this.

57. Baby August- Someone just give this mans some food. He’s a growing boy.

56. Santa Claus- If I were Santa, I too would list Ladybug as the best kid in the world.

55. Art Teacher- He doesn’t even have a name, but I vibe with him. He seems like he likes to paint scenes of nature with his pet squirrels.

54. Prince Ali- Lil mans just wanted to have a good time. I can respect that.

53. Duusu- Duusu, I get that your Miraculous was broken, but get with the program, girl. You is a hostage.

52. Other Kwamis- Idk, all the ones we haven’t seen as much. I don’t have real opinions on them yet. Just neutral.

51. Sass- He gives me dad vibes.

50. M. Damocles- You go, you funky owl man

49. Jean (Chloe's Butler)- He deserves a raise. What is your name, sir? We may never know.

48. Mireille Caquet- She’s pretty cute. No complaints.

47. Aurore Beaureal- Baby’s first akuma. I love her design. She’s a cutie.

46. Claudie Kante (Max’s mom)- This womans just wanted to go to space and live her dream. We stan a hardworking queen.

45. Hot Dog Dan- I like him more than Andre the ice cream fraud. Sure, my hotdog might turn me purple, but if I ask for chili on it, I bet he’d oblige.

44. Nadja Chamack- I mean, she’s doing her best.

43. Audrey Bourgeois- So, as I said in the episode ranking, I have a love-hate relationship with Audrey. She’s the worst, but that’s why I love her. I love her ironically. Like, yeah she’s atrocious, but I just want to watch her burn the world.

42. Luka Couffaine- Directly in the middle, like he’s always been.

41. Nathaniel Kurtzberg- My opinion of Nath improved after Reverser surprisingly. I ship it.

40. Chris Lahiffe- I like Chris better than Ella/Etta. He’s just a little mans out here living life wanting to grow up. Don’t believe it, Chris. Stay little forever. Being an adult suuuuucks.

39. Fang the Crocodile- The goodest boy.

38. Nooroo- I just want to give him a hug.

37. Mlle. Bustier- She’s doing her best, but I mean, when ya whole class keeps getting turned into supervillains, I’m surprised she’s not an alcoholic.

36. Penny Rolling- I just like her. I think she’s neat.

35. Ondine- Mermaid queen! She’s so sweet, and I love her with Kim. I hope we see more of her in the future.

34. Marc Anciel- Marc is a little cutie bean. Idc if he’s based off one of Thomas’s irl friends. He can stay.

33. Wayzz- He loves Master Fu so much I cry.

32. Felix Graham de Vanily- I know everyone hates canon Felix, but tbh he exudes massive chaotic neutral gremlin energy, and I actually kinda vibe with that. And he pisses with his uncle which is a whole ass mood.

31. Tikki- Tikki is very cute, but bby please work on the preaching. You don’t always know what’s right, babe.

30. Sabrina Raincomprix- Sabrina deserves better. I hope we see good things happen for her.

29. Lila Rossi- Surprised? I actually like Lila. The first fic I ever wrote for this fandom was a Lila redemption. I think she is a good antagonist and foil to Marinette. I absolutely want to see her get dunked on in canon, but that doesn’t mean I hate her.

28. Wayhem- I don’t know why, but Wayhem makes me laugh. I love him XD

27. Uncle Cheng- He’s just a good mans with a birb who wants to make you tasty food. What’s not to like?

26. Trixx- Trixx shot up after GoS. Chaotic bean make Eiffel Tower go bendy

25. Jess- She’s pretty cool. She’s a vibe.

24. Aeon- The cutest bean!!! She saw Adrien and Marinette and said yep. Those two are meant to be together. Jess, we gotta make it happen.

23. Ivan Bruel- Ivan is such a gentle bean. We love him.

22. Mylene Haprele- Smol

21. Fei Wu- I still have not watched the Shanghai special with subs, but I liked her.

20. Gina Dupain- The grandma I aspire to be.

19. Marianne Lenoir- I love her. She is good. She and Fu are so cute. And she seems like she would have kicked le ass back in the day. (and even now)

18. Rose Lavillant- I am so excited for Pigella!! Rose is too cute. We love her.

17. Gorilla- aka Adrien’s real dad. If the series doesn’t end with Gabriel getting yeeted into the stratosphere and Gorilla adopting Adrien, I don’t want it.

16. Clara Nightingale- She’s in love with Marinette. You can’t change my mind. 16 is also how old I hc her to be, so don’t nobody come for me.

15. Tom Dupain- Most. Supportive. Dad. Soft bean. Just wants to make you fresh bread.

14. Sabine Cheng- Good mom vibes. We love to see her.

13. Juleka Couffaine- Shy goth bean. Just wants to have her picture taken. Definitely a lesbian. We stan.

12. Nino Lahiffe- The goodest boy. He’s just out here doing his best, loving his friends.

11. Chloe Bourgeois- Chloe is another one I have a love-hate relationship with. Her brattiness is funny to me. We had high hopes for her. Honestly, she ranks this high because I like to play with her in fic.

10. Max Kante- He smol and smort. And I adore his friendship with Kim and the fact that he made an AI himself at 14. What a legend.

9. Alya Cesaire- Rip to Alya salters, but I’m different. Outside of Chameleon, Alya is fine. She’s a supportive bff. All yall people that are mad she doesn’t kiss Marinette’s ass all the time need to go out and make real friends. I said what I said.

8. Alix Kubdel- I love Alix. I love how she is always so done with all the lovey-dovey bullshit. She is tiny queen, and Bunnix, while OP af, is still super cool. We love to see her.

7. Kagami Tsurugi- I will fight anyone who shits on Kagami. She has done nothing wrong, you guys are just haters. All she did was exist, and yall said, wow what a toxic bitch?? Disgraceful.

6. Jagged Stone- We are going to ignore the deadbeat dad trope that canon thrust upon him. He is a Marinette stan, and we love that.

5. Kim Le Chien- I really love Kim, you guys. Does that surprise you? Listen, my favorite male character types are sweet beans and himbos. Kim is both of these.

4. Master Fu- If you didn’t pick up on how much I love Fu from the episodes ranking, then idk what to tell you. I want him to be my grandpa. I would trust this mans with my life. He did his best. You paint those pictures, you funky little man. I love you.

3. Plagg- My galaxy trash man. Love him. 10/10 chefs kisses all around.

2. Adrien Agreste- The biggest Marinette stan there is. I just want him to kiss her on the face. And marry her. Idk, I just think that would be neat if he could do that. I just want good things for them.

1. Marinette Dupain-Cheng- Honestly, are you surprised? I have always been and always will be a Marinette stan. If you expected anyone else to be in this spot, then clown suit rentals are off to the left.

#cat speaks #cat spoils #character ranking #okay fr tho dont ever ask me for anything ever again #take your complaints to your dashboard button and off my blog #idc if you dont like my ranks #theyre not for you #heck off

23 notes · View notes

ginnysims4 · 5 years ago

Photo

“Love Hair” Family

If your’re not familiar with the Oscar winner short Love Haire PLEASE check it out, it’s so cute!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kNw8V_Fkw28

After seeing Love Hair take the win in the Oscars I felt compelled to make the family as a household in my neighborhood! I tried to follow the color scheme more or less of the characters in game so you’ll notice on some of the outfits similar looks from the short. I also downloaded so many black hairstyles and I love them so much! Big shout out to creators @ebonixsims and @xxblacksims because without them we would have to stick to the horrible maxis hairstyles lol (although I did use a maxis match one for the mother in one of her looks XD)-

You’ll notice several hairstyles for download because obviously the mother is a hairdresser so it made sense to have several looks for both her and daughter. The household surname is “Love” but I did name the characters. I tried to look for their names but found nothing. Jada Love - Hairdresser and Internet Personality (she would definitely be on the Social media career since she has a youtube type channel in the short) Her Traits are Creative, Family-oriented and Cheerful Shaun Love - I picture him as really involved in the environment, so the Conservationist career. Both parents have the Super parent aspiration too HIs traits are Playful, Family-oriented and Good Raven Love - Our little star! Her trait is Cheerful and she has the Creative aspiration since she seems to draw a lot in the short. I hope she looks OK and not like a mini adult since a lot of kids look scary with CC lol. I also included their cat :3 named him Boris. I didn’t upload photo since I reached the limit for a tumblr post, but he’s in the tray files! I made sure to give him his disapproving look lol

——-

Let me know what you think of them and send me any screenshots if you decide to play them! Now onto the mods, there’s a lot! But of course you can simply download the genetics/hairs and dress them as you want. Note I had to change the dad’s beard from the one pictured because I could not for the life of me find it, but it’s very similar. Same for his gym shorts, I used EA ones.

Tray files here: http://www.simfileshare.net/download/1617845/

GENETICS (required for sims to look the same as pictured)

Cien No EA Eyelashes

3D Eyelashes V1 by @mmsims

Ms Blue Default Skin

Realistic Lips Rope’s Workshop

Skin Overlay by @pralinesims

FRS Irene Skin Overlay by fashionroyaltysim

DNA Revamped Overlay by @oasisgoth

Male skin 11 Overlay by @remussirion

Female skin 20 Overlay by @remussirion

Caramel Eyes N121 by @pralinesims

Kakao Eyes N155 by @pralinesims

Sweetheart Hand Palms by @pralinesims

Beard Franco by @pralinesims (found in part 5 zip)

Patria Nosemask by @pralinesims

Prestige Eyebrows N21 by @pralinesims

Fake Moles N06 by @pralinesims

TAMO Eyebags Set

GPME Cheek Contour C3 by @goppolsme

GPME Face Countoring by @goppolsme

GPME Eyebrows M2 by @goppolsme

DFJsimbrleen Oracle Brows by @dangerouslyfreejellyfish

HAIRSTYLES

Lemonaide Braids by @ebonixsims

Ledisi by @ebonixsims

Xoe by @ebonixsims

Goddess Bun by @ebonixsims

Trina by @ebonixsims

Estella hair by @marsosims

Halfbound male dreads by birkschessimsblog

Cool Dread Knot by birkschessimsblog

Kinky Curly Hair by @xxblacksims

Child and Toddler Hair Pack by @xxblacksims

MAKEUP

Club Eyeshadow N05 by @pralinesims

Jelly Nails N19P by @pralinesims

TS4 Lustrous Lipgloss by @dangerouslyfreejellyfish

GPME Liner cc20 by @goppolsme

GPME Liner cc09 by @goppolsme

ACCESSORIES

Winter gloves by @imadako

Morina Hoop Earring Trio by @pralinesims

Gemma Earrings by @pralinesims

Countdown necklace by @pralinesims

Spring Day Glasses by @pralinesims

S-Club WM ts4 bracelet 201904 by @sclub-privee

S-Club ts4 WM Glasses F 201801 by @sclub-privee

S-Club LL ts4 watch 201901 by @sclub-privee

Colores Urbanos Basic Ear Plug by @coloresurbanos

Paidato’s Glam Bonnet by paidatosims

Flower Diamond Studs For Kids by feyona

Hriban set by @peachiiesims

CLOTHES

Skinny destroyed jeans by @elliesimple

Classic joggers by @elliesimple

Josie tied tank by @viiavi

Cropped Hoodie by @casteru

One Sleeve Bodysuit by @billsims-cc

Morgana Wrap Dress by @sentateandco

Carrie Jacket by @clumsyalienn

Madlen Giovanni Shoes by @madlensims

Echo Top by @trillyke

Primo sandals by @mmsims

Denim Jacket by darte77

T-Shirt - V1 by darte77

Cargo Jacket by darte77

Docksides by darte77

Pants Merge by @gorillax3 (uses 01 and pant 16)

Split Tank Top by @gorillax3

Vest Suit by @gorillax3

Split Tank Top by @gorillax3

Rob roy jeans by @joliebean

Aviator Hat by @wyatts

Boots by @mmsims

I would appreciate if you share and credit me if you decide to use them! Also feel free to send me your sim requests! I would love to work from a request to see what I can come up with :)

46 notes · View notes

pamphletstoinspire · 5 years ago

Photo

The Second Sunday in Lent, The Transfiguration - Latin Calendar

by Fr. Francis Xavier Weninger, 1876

“And His face did shine as the sun.”–Matt. 17

The Gospel read by the Church on the first Sunday of in Lent invites her children to employ this time of grace! in cleansing themselves from the stain of sin, in freeing themselves from the slavery of Satan, in overcoming temptation, in one word, in destroying sin. To day's Gospel teaches that a true child of the Church and of Christ must not be satisfied with not offending God, nor living separated from Him in the state of mortal sin; but he must endeavor to lead a holy life, and follow Christ closely.

At the same time, the words of today's Gospel indicate the condition necessary to walk the path of perfection, to follow Christ, and to become more and more like Him. The evangelist says: “And His face did shine as the sun.” What meaning has this in reference to our striving after perfection? I shall answer this question today.

O Mary, thou sublime woman, whom St. John in the Revelation saw clothed with the sun, beg Jesus to grant us purity of intention, that we may live and die for Him alone! I speak in the most holy name of Jesus, to the greater glory of God!

“The face of Jesus did shine as the sun.” The expression, “as the sun, refers not only to a flood of light, which even the moon and a multitude of stars send forth; but also to certain other qualities of the sun, which our actions must figuratively copy if we desire our life to resemble that of Jesus, and to glorify God.

I will speak first of purity of intention, namely, that quality in all our actions and omissions, in all our thoughts, words, wishes, and works, which directs them at all times to the glory of God. The example of Christ speaks to us of this most forcibly. Through the Incarnation of the Son of God, the sun rose gloriously in the bosom of Mary, for, according to St. Paul, the first words of Christ in the moment of His conception were: “Behold I come to do Thy will, O God.” “I have meat to eat which you know not,” He said to the disciples when His apostolic mission was at its height. And again: “Father, not My will, but Thine be done,” was his prayer, and the outpouring of His heart on the last evening of His life.

He asks His disciples to live in imitation of Him. Whence the Apostle says: “Whatsoever you do, do all things for the glory of God.” “Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven,” thus He teaches those to pray who belong to Him, declaring all worthless that is not done according to the holy will of God, and for His glory.

We will perceive the importance and necessity of this state of mind in following Christ upon the path of Christian perfection, if we but consider the last aim and end of creation, and especially of man. For that last aim and end is no other than the outward glorification of God, through voluntary obedience to His holy will.

The light of the sun symbolizes that purity of intention expressed by the words: “All to the great glory of God,” which is the property of a truly fervent soul.

Before the sun rises, all nature is veiled in darkness, notwithstanding the presence of those large luminous worlds, the stars. Similar is the state of his soul in the service of God, who thinks only of himself, and sees nothing beyond his own desires. The spiritual life of such a man is shrouded in the darkness of night.

The sun, once above the horizon, rises ever higher and higher; and, by the manner in which he sends out his light, seems to say: Everywhere, all over the earth, as far as my rays can pierce, I give light, all for the greater glory of God!

So it is with the Christian, who, during the day, preserves in his heart the pure intention of doing the will of God, and this only; who lives for God alone, as his last aim and end.

Unhappily, we have but few suns here below who shine like that of St. Ignatius, only to honor the Almighty, and who in all they do, desire, or suffer, seek only to glorify their God. Christians who wish to live as Christians, generally have in part this good intention. In a measure, they seek to glorify God; but, as the moon borrows her light from the sun, and shows through it her own face, so their works, made bright with the light of God's service, frequently show that “I” which obtrudes itself in various ways.

The sun proceeds on his course; whether the sky be clear or clouded, whether the air be calm or disturbed by storm. Thus those walk upon earth who live for God alone, who see Him only in all their actions. They walk onward, never heeding the obstacle they encounter, calm alike in misery and in prosperity. How different from those who, as long as nothing stands in their way, are filled with zeal; but who, as soon as an obstacle hinders their progress, become despondent and abandon their purpose!

The light of the sun never changes, while that of the moon increases, diminishes, and, at times, disappears altogether. A soul sustained by the pure intention of living for God alone remains ardent and steadfast, while one who acts through other motives is changeable, sometimes zealous, again thoughtless, and often even forsakes ignominiously the work which he undertook for the glory of God.

At the close of today's Gospel the Evangelist says: “They saw no man, but only Jesus.” How few there are to all whose actions these words can be truthfully applied. They, perhaps, do look up to Jesus, and try to follow Him, and become like Him; but their eyes wander too often from Him to themselves and others. They desire, while practising works of piety, to satisfy their self-love, and to give all due respect to human considerations. Hail, to those Christians of whom it may be said: In all they do, they think of Jesus only, of being pleasing in His sight, of following, of serving Him, of becoming daily more like Him, and of possessing Him! They will be led by the spirit of prayer to Mount Tabor, and their life will be transformed into a life of such holiness that it will shine as the sun! Amen!

And His garments became white as snow.” Matt. 17.

“Lord, cleanse me more and more,” sighed David to God. We all have cause to repeat his cry, even if we forsake the path of evil, and endeavor to walk in the footsteps of the just. Though we try to exercise ourselves in good works, we are yet far from the perfection we ought to aspire to in all our actions, especially in those of daily routine, which our vocation upon earth obliges us to perform. These we must render, like the wheat in the Gospel, worthy of being placed in the granaries of heaven, and, despite their many imperfections, strive to keep in the category, so to say, of good deeds.

We are reminded of this in today's Gospel: “And His garments became white as snow.” The garments which clothe our soul, are the good works which we practise, according to our station in life. If each one of these were performed with the purest intention, and were free from every stain of imperfection, what an adornment they would prove to be, how they would embellish the soul, and what a gain they would be for heaven! Unfortunately this is seldom the case. There are few of our works whose brightness is untarnished by sin.

We will consider today, particularly, the stains which deface our daily works, and meditate upon the best means of avoiding and guarding against them. Mary, thou who, according to Holy Writ, standest robed in garments of gold, before the throne of the Most High, thou, purest of the pure, in thought and deed, grant that we, taught and guided by thee, may gain strength to free ourselves from every stain of imperfection and sin! I speak in the most holy name of Jesus, to the greater glory of God.

St. John, speaking in the Apocalypse of the saints in heaven, says: “They were clothed in white robes.” These white garments and these shining, precious material of which they are made, says he, are righteousness and good works. This material is made up principally of our daily works. For, in order to become holy it is not necessary to perform great and astonishing outward deeds. The Almighty has not chosen or called every one for such a career; hence every one has not received the divine grace which it requires. As to those great works of which we read in the lives of the saints, they were not the means of making them what they were; it was, rather, the perfection with which they performed their daily duties which made them so rich in merit.

A friend of St. Francis de Sales used to say of this saint, that he did nothing unusual, and yet all that he did seemed unusual, on account of the perfect manner in which it was performed. And what are the stains which cling to our daily works and deface them, and often even totally destroy them, by robbing them of all merit for the life to come? They are these:

First, the stain of indolence, arising from a want of energy to rise early, and always at the same time, in order to say our morning prayers and to implore God to protect and bless us during the day. All who are indolent in rising, who begin the day slothfully and without devout, earnest prayer, stain thus early in the morning the robes of their soul.

The second stain on the robe of our daily works, is want of a pure intention to live that day only to fulfill the will of God, and to do all that we do for Him alone. We seek too much after self, and are too often actuated by the temporal motive of gaining wealth, honor, or enjoyment. This want of a pure in tention is a stain on the white garment of our daily work.

Further, this robe is soiled by an ill-regulated performance of the duties of our state of life. We act either too sluggishly or too precipitatedly, with reluctance and through habit. We enter upon our daily duties without raising our minds to God, and, during the day, forget His holy presence. Instead, we often, without reflection or precaution, seek company and dissipation, fritter away our time in idle conversation, and, of course, sully our robe with many sins of the tongue. Who can count the sins that are daily committed by piously-inclined persons through want of a proper guard over their tongues?

Another abundant source of stains on our good works is want of charity. Under this head may be classed cutting remarks, unkind accusations and reproaches, often accompanied with contemptuous and offensive bearing. Then we contract stains by omitting to labor at the instruction and improvement of others, and, in general, to perform corporal and spiritual works of mercy. There are, besides, stains of rash suspicions and judgments, and even of participation in petty backbiting and calumny. I must not forget jealousy, envy, and general narrowness.

Stains in abundance fall on our daily actions from a want of trite love for the cross. Hence comes peevishness, hence impatience, that almost tears our good deeds to tatters. This is especially the case when, through want of love for the cross, man is tempted to murmur against divine Providence, or to submit unwillingly to the decrees of the Almighty.

To these may also be added the spots which arise from obstinacy, selfishness, conceit, presumption, and the want of mortification, a virtue without which life can not be truly holy. In conclusion, the luster of our daily works is stained, and the robe of our soul discolored by our carelessness in preventing temptations from approaching us, or by our sloth in banishing them as soon as they draw nigh.

What a subject for self-examination is all I have just said to yon, my dear listener! How many imperfections, think you, blemish the record of your good works?

As St. Ignatius assures us, the means of freeing ourselves from these imperfections lie in the unremitting exercise of particular examination, or the so-called special daily examine of conscience. Resolve that, from today, you will examine earnestly and faithfully your conscience, and will choose, as subject of your examine, one after the other, all the points I have placed before you. Then the robes of your good works, gradually cleansed from all imperfection, will become more and more white, until you will shine, clothed in most radiant garments, in the community of the saints! Amen!

We are admonished by the transfiguration of Christ upon Mount Tabor, that we who have been enlightened by the Saviour, instructed by His Word, guided and encouraged by His example, must not be satisfied with living as a man among men a purely human life. Destined, as we are, for a supernatural aim and end, we must endeavor to lead here upon earth the life of the blessed, in heaven, the life of angels, in accordance with the words of the great Apostle: “But our conversation is in heaven.” And further, we must live in this world, shrouded in the night of sin, in such a manner as to become a light to others.

If we live thus, we shall secure, even in this world, genuine happiness; and we shall be intensely happy if we make our spiritual abode in the three places which, as I conceive, figure the three tabernacles that St. Peter wished to build upon Mount Tabor. These, if we are in earnest, are here upon earth in our possession, in the sanctuary of the Church.

They are: The pulpit, the confessional the altar. In today's sermon I shall explain the manner in which I conceive this. O Mary, thou who art first among the saints, obtain for us that we may dwell joyfully in those three places in the sanctuary of the Almighty, from which the stream of heavenly bliss flows upon the world. I speak in the most holy name of Jesus, to the greater glory of God!

The first tabernacle, or the first place to which I point, in the sanctuary of God, and which, if we properly dwell therein, will prompt us to say, with the Apostle: It is good for us to be here; is not the tabernacle of Moses the Christian pulpit, or meditation upon the divine Word? Christ Himself has said: “Blessed are those who hear and keep the Word of God.” And again: “Those who are; of God will hear his word.” The Gospel tells us how Mary Magdalene thirsted to hear the words of Christ, and how she forgot all else in the joy of sitting at his feet and listening to Him.

It is certainly a good sign when a Christian loves to hear the Word of God as it is expounded in the churches every Sunday and holyday; but this is not enough, and no child of the Church should be content with merely this. He should not rest until he is thoroughly instructed in all the doctrines of his faith, in the entire science of salvation, in order not only to know his faith, but to regulate his life in accordance with its precepts. He must take the truths of faith to heart, and enter into the spirit of contemplation, of true heart-felt prayer. To meditate upon the Word of God, to hold communion with Him, should be regarded as the most important occupation of our life. To hear God's Word, as it were, from His own mouth, unites us to Him personally. Thrice blessed lot, if, as St. John of the Cross says, our life in faith through prayerful communion with God allow us, even here upon earth, to taste the joys of heaven, as did so many of the saints. The soul who experiences this may well exclaim: It is good for us to be here!

The place in the sanctuary of God which I liken unto the second tabernacle of Elias is the confessional. If a Christian is determined to walk in the path of holiness, he will, of his own free will, approach often the Sacrament of Penance. He will confess his sins, and strive to cleanse himself from the dust of daily imperfections, in order to secure for himself an abundance of actual graces, and thus increase sanctifying grace, which augments the splendor of our transfiguration into a likeness with God.

Every Christian who does this with the burning zeal of an Elias, and who is filled with the desire of making progress upon the path of perfection, will have reason to rejoice, and will feel at rest and secure, be cause his humble submission to the minister of Christ the confessor has freed him from the danger of being deceived by the wiles of Satan.

The more at rest the heart is, the surer is it to fulfill the most holy will of God, and the more courageous and determined the soul is to traverse the path that leads to heaven. She has cause to exclaim, comforted by the sight of the confessional: It is good to be here!

The third place to which I refer in the sanctuary of God is the Altar the tabernacle and shrine of Christ, where He really and personally dwells among us.

From this shrine issues the word which Christ spoke to the Samaritan woman: If thou didst know the gift of God, and who He is who speaketh to thee! The Samaritan woman did not know. We do. What exultations, therefore, should every Christian feel when he thinks of the happiness of being so near Jesus, of speaking to Him, yea, even of taking Him to his heart! There are, in this regard, three circumstances which heighten this happiness.

First. Christ is near me and with me; I can go to Him, go to the tabernacle, where He dwells, as often as I wish! O what happiness! Who does not envy Mary the happiness which was bestowed upon her, in the privilege of dwelling for thirty years under the same roof with Christ!

As children of the Church, in the quiet of the house of God, where Christ dwells in the Most Holy Sacrament, we partake of this happiness. Yes, we possess one advantage. Even Mary could not speak to Jesus as often as she liked, at all times. Jesus worked by the side of His foster-father Joseph, and at such times could not speak to His mother. Here, in the tabernacle, Jesus is ready at every moment of the day or night to listen to us, to speak to us, and to bestow graces upon us.

Christ sacrifices Himself for me upon the altar! I have the grace to assist at the sacrifice which He offered for me upon the cross! O what happiness! Especially, as the sacrifice upon the cross was offered but once, while that upon the altar is renewed as often as Mass is read. And still more, by Holy Communion I am permitted to receive Him into my heart, body and soul, as God and Man, to be transformed into Him! O what happiness!

It is by this means that I shall know Him personally, that I shall love Him; and, if this is accomplished, then I shall have, with St. Francis Xavier, St. Teresa, and all the saints, a foretaste of the infinite happiness which Christ has prepared for us in heaven.

How well for all believing Christians it would be, if they benefited by the presence of Christ, upon the altar, in the tabernacle! Where could a human being be found, be it man or woman, youth or maiden, who, visiting the Blessed Sacrament daily, hearing Mass daily, receiving Holy Communion frequently, and showing, by his gratefulness, that a love like that of St. John for Christ filled his heart, would not prove himself a Christian in the fullest sense of the term, and for whose salvation we would have no cause to fear.

Let us, therefore, resolve to benefit by these three holy places in the sanctuary of God's Church, and we shall, with grateful hearts, exclaim to the Lord: It is good to be here! Amen!

Why was Christ transfigured in presence of His apostles, on Mount Tabor?

To permit them to see the glorious majesty of His divinity; to guard them from doubts when they should afterwards see Him die on Mount Calvary; to encourage because of the future glory the disciples, and with them all the faithful, to be patient in all crosses and afflictions, for the bodies of the just at the resurrection will be made like the glorified body of Christ. (Phil. iii. 21.)

Why did Moses and Elias appear there?

That they might testify, that Jesus was really the Saviour, announced by the law and the prophets, and that the law and the prophets received fulfilment in Him. The law was represented by Moses, the prophets by Elias.

Why did Peter wish to build three tabernacles there?

The delightful sweetness of the apparition in which Jesus made him participator, so enraptured him, that he knew not what he said, not considering that glory cannot be attained without labor, the crown without fight, joy without crosses and afflictions.

#second sunday in lent

3 notes · View notes

loyolahcmass · 5 years ago

Text

Homily on Even If It Breaks Your Heart by The Eli Young Band

Here is the preview of Fr. Rossi’s homily on the song Even If It Breaks Your Heart by The Eli Young Band:

"Even If It Breaks Your Heart" by The Eli Young Band (EYB) “Way back on the radio dial, The fire got lit inside a bright-eyed child. Every note just wrapped around his soul, From steel guitars to Memphis, all the way to rock and roll.” The lyrics to Eli Young Band's single, “Even if It Breaks Your Heart,” will hit home for all dreamers, and not just those pursuing a career as a country music star. The song, of course, touches perfectly on all of the struggles faced when trying to get heard in Nashville. But that is expected since the tune was penned by two country music stars, crooner Eric Paslay and singer-songwriter Will Hoge. __________ "We wrote this song in April of 2009," Paslay says. "I think it was the second time Will and I had ever written together. “I usually just show up and see what happens when I write with somebody. “And I think it’s the same with Will. __________ “I think every time we write we see what finds us in the room that day. “It’s sort of a dream or a miracle. “We see what song shows up when we start composing. “The song almost has a life of its own.” __________ "Downtown is where I used to wonder Old enough to get there, but too young to get inside So, I would stand out on the sidewalk Listen to the music playing every Friday night". __________ "Will's been at it a lot longer than I have," says Paslay. "I moved to Nashville when I was 20-years-old. “I wasn't even old enough to get into the clubs to play them. That verse was from my experience as a dreamer." __________ "Ohhh, I can hear 'em playin'. I can hear the ringin' of a beat up ol' guitar. Ohhh, I can hear 'em singin'. Keep on dreamin' even if it breaks your heart.” __________ "The song talks about musicians, but everybody has a dream," notes Paslay. "I don't think a dream would be a dream if it was easy to catch. “I think it's worth reaching out and trying to get it. “Even if the world’s trying to break you down ... it's definitely worth fighting for." __________ The music video for “Even If It Breaks Your Heart” has the same message. Filmed in Gruhn Guitars, a famous store in downtown Nashville, the video depicts several generations of dreamers interacting with the guitar shop. The song has a feel-good style and the setting of the video perfectly captures that feel. __________ The video starts with what looks like a flashback of two young boys. They’re peeking into a guitar shop before it's even open. Think of the wide eyes of Willy Wonka, but for aspiring young musicians. __________ The video flashes between the band performing live in the shop and glimpses of other musicians. We see a young boy playing drums in the guitar shop. We can assume it's lead singer Mike Eli as a child. __________ We also meet an older, more ragged guitar man. He’s on a bench, but he’s outside the shop. We get the impression that his dreams didn’t come true. And finally, we encounter a girl in her twenties rocking out on a new guitar. __________ Then, the guitar man from “the outside” comes into the shop. He wants to sell his guitar. He's just given up on his dreams. __________ But as he stands there with the fresh cash in hand, a young boy comes up and gets him to autograph one of his records. And that changes everything. Inspired by this glimmer of a memory, the man hands back the money and picks his dream back up with a newfound hope. It’s a really emotional moment. “Gotta keep believin.'” __________ "It's the message and the story of the band," EYB drummer Chris Thompson says. "It's twofold. “Lyrically, the story relates to what the four of us have been through, developing our career -- slowly, gradually building this thing. __________ “But the underlying message of the storyline is universal: hope and optimism in this life. “We've always had a lot of hope and enthusiasm in what we've done. "And we've always believed in ourselves and tried to keep pushing to see what's around the corner. __________ "As a band and as individuals, we’ve got a lot of faith. "In God and in ourselves. "We're always shooting for the next biggest thing. "And I think that's the key to our success over all our time together." __________ “Some dreams stay with you forever, Drag you around but bring you back to where you were. Some dreams keep on gettin' better, Gotta keep believin' if you wanna know for sure.” I think it’s really remarkable that the most important line in a song is the very last line of lyrics. But that’s certainly the case with “Even If It Breaks Your Heart.” __________ With a song title like that, you’d think this was a pessimistic track. But it’s just the opposite. It’s about keeping faith, so that you have a chance to make it, both in the music industry and in life. __________ The Prophet Isaiah is telling us that the Messiah will come so that we have a chance for success in whatever good we attempt, and in whatever dreams fill us with hope. And notice how peaceful and calm his inspired words are. “May the Spirit of the Lord rest on you.” I think that’s exactly the hope the guys in The Eli Young Band are trying to convey to us.

#the eli young band #eli young band #even if it breaks your heart #eli young band music #homily #homilies #Catholic Mass #catholic homily #mass #hcm homilies #loyolahcmass

1 note · View note

pamphletstoinspire · 6 years ago

Photo

THE SECOND SUNDAY IN LENT, THE TRANSFIGURATION

by Fr. Francis Xavier Weninger, 1876

“And His face did shine as the sun.” – Matt. 17

The light of the sun symbolizes that purity of intention expressed by the words: “All to the great glory of God,” which is the property of a truly fervent soul.

So it is with the Christian, who, during the day, preserves in his heart the pure intention of doing the will of God, and this only; who lives for God alone, as his last aim and end.

And His garments became white as snow.” Matt. 17.

What a subject for self-examination is all I have just said to yon, my dear listener! How many imperfections, think you, blemish the record of your good works?

The third place to which I refer in the sanctuary of God is the Altar the tabernacle and shrine of Christ, where He really and personally dwells among us.

Let us, therefore, resolve to benefit by these three holy places in the sanctuary of God's Church, and we shall, with grateful hearts, exclaim to the Lord: It is good to be here! Amen!

Why was Christ transfigured in presence of His apostles, on Mount Tabor?

Why did Moses and Elias appear there?

Why did Peter wish to build three tabernacles there?

#second sunday in lent

1 note · View note

pamphletstoinspire · 7 years ago

Photo

Catholic Physics - Reflections of a Catholic Scientist - Part 49

Story with images:

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/catholic-physics-reflections-scientist-part-49-harold-baines/?published=t

The Theology of Science Fiction: III. Does Data have a soul?

Asimov's Robots, from

"I Robot -- Runaround"

Theological Objection “Thinking is a function of man’s immortal soul. God has given an immortal soul to every man and woman, but not to any other animal or to machines. Hence no animal or machine can think."

Rebuttal to Objection “It appears to me that [The Theological Objection] implies a serious restriction of the omnipotence of the Almighty. It is admitted that there are certain things that He cannot do such as making one equal two, but should we not believe that He has freedom to confer a soul on an elephant if He sees fit? We might expect that He would only exercise this power in conjunction with a mutation which provided the elephant with an appropriately improved brain to minister to the needs of this soul.” Alan Turing, Computing Machinery and Intelligence.

“Never tell a child,” said George Macdonald, ‘you have a soul. Teach him, you are a soul; you have a body." See Mere Orthodoxy

Let's start off on a light note. A long time ago when computers were still new (yes, it was that long ago), when I was at my first academic assignment, the head of the division dealing with computers gave a talk on artificial intelligence for computers. One of the humanities faculty in the audience put a question after the talk "Would you want your daughter to marry one[i.e. a computer]?". Legend has it (I wasn't there) that he answered "Yes, if she loved him".

When we inquire about the souls of computers/robots we assume that computers/robots have a mind/self-awareness/consciousness. That some sort of programmed intelligence can be conscious (self-aware) is a hotly debated proposition. A book would be required (many have been written) to explore this notion. We don't want to write that book here, so let's suppose, as do SF authors, that consciousness is possible by some means or another for computers and robots and see what SF has to say about them having souls.*

I WANT TO BE A COMPUTER WHEN I DIE

As a transition to considering machine intelligence, let's examine how SF treats the transfer of human intelligence/personality into computers or robots. Note that one theoretical physicist, Frank Tipler, in his book, "The Physics of Christianity", posits that heaven will consist of personalities transferred to software as the universe reaches its end in an "Omega Point' singularity. Since it is a black hole type singularity, time is slowed down and the intelligences transferred to software thus have essentially an eternity to enjoy their virtual life.

Among the many SF stories that deal with transferred human intelligence, there is one that especially focuses on the question of soulhood, Deus X, by Norman Spinard. Spinrad treats the question with respect, although his attitude to the Catholic Church is somewhat less than reverent (there is a female Pope, Mary I). Below is a summary of the plot, as given in McKee's excellent survey, The Gospel According to Science-Fiction:

"...thousands of people exist in an artificial afterlife called 'Transcorporeal Immortality', having copied their consciousness onto a worldwide computer network called 'The Big Board'....Catholic theologian Fr. Philippe de Leone argue[s] that this creation of an artificial soul, which cannot have true self-awareness, dooms the actual soul that is copied to damnation. Pope Mary I, hoping to settle the controversy, orders Fr. DeLeone to have his soul copied upon his death, so that his consciousness can argue against its own autonomous existence from the other side." as quoted in The Gospel According to Science Fiction. p.43

Superficially, Pope Mary's plan seems to contain a paradox. If the downloaded Fr. de Leone changes "his" mind and says "yes, I am a real soul", how can we trust what an artificial soul might say? The solution to the paradox is that all of Fr. de Leone's beliefs have been downloaded to his program. If these beliefs are changed, it means that the entity in the computer has free will, and is thus autonomous and a real soul. In the story Fr. DeLeone's soul is "kidnapped" (how do you kidnap a program?) by a group of downloaded personalities that wants to convince the Church, via Fr. de Leone's download, that they have a real soul. As McKee points out in his synopsis, there is a reverse Turing Test applied here. Fr. de Leone does change his mind, the downloaded personalities declare him a deity ("Deus X") and a new controversy arises: Church officials declare how could this blasphemy come about. To still the controversy, Fr. de Leone sacrifices his downloaded personality (dies), Pope Mary declares him a saint and recognizes that the downloaded souls are "real".

THE CHURCH AND ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE -- "GOOD NEWS FROM THE VATICAN"

There are many SF works in which the Catholic Church plays a role. In some, the Church and its teachings are treated with respect; in most, not so much. As Gabriel McKee points out in The Gospel According to Science Fiction

"SF, arising as it does from the secular humanism of the Enlightenment, is critical of religious institutions. SF frequently argues that if organized religion is to be a positive force in the future of humankind, it must change drastically to meet the spiritual challenges of the future." Gabriel McKee, op.cit., p. 183

One such drastic change is envisaged by Robert Silverberg in his story Good News from the Vatican.

In his story there are robot priests and robot high Church officials. One such, a robot Cardinal, is elected Pope after a deadlock between two human cardinals. The story ends with the newly elected robot pontiff rising into the air from the balcony before the assembled masses in St. Peter's Square and, as he goes up

"...his shadow extends across the whole piazza. Higher and higher he goes until he is lost to sight." Robert Silverberg, Good News from the Vatican.

Does Silverberg, with a sense of irony -- the shadow cast over the piazza, and the Pope lost from sight--predict the eclipse of humanity and human values? Or am I reading too much into this ending?

A more sympathetic view of how the Church might interact with artificial intelligence is given in Jack McDevitt's fine story, "Gus"**. In this beautiful tale, the newly installed rector of a Catholic Seminary interacts with a computer simulation of St. Augustine of Hippo, purchased (the simulation, that is) to help students understand St. Augustine's teachings. The Rector, Msgr. Chesley, is at first greatly displeased with Gus's (the program's) dicta:

" 'The thing must have been programmed by Unitarians' Chesley threw over his shoulder. 'Get rid of it'" "Gus" in Cryptics, p. 373.

The relationship between Chesley and Gus becomes warmer with time, as they discuss the problems of being a Catholic in today's world:

“ 'Why did Augustine become a priest?' Chesley asked.

'I wanted,' Gus said, with the slightest stress on the first words, 'to get as close as I could to my Creator.' Thoughtfully, he added, 'I seem to have traveled far afield.'

'Sometimes I think,' Chesley said, 'the Creator hides himself too well.'

'Use his Church,' said Gus. 'That is why it is here.'

'It has changed.'

“Of course it has changed. The world has changed.'

'The Church is supposed to be a rock.'

'Think of it rather as a refuge in a world that will not stand still.' " op. cit., p. 382,

Gus's sayings to the students become so unorthodox (he decries the doctrines/dogma of the infallibility of the Pope and the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary) that other faculty decided he should be downloaded to storage and traded in for a computer simulation of Thomas Aquinas (plus business software). Gus asks Msgr. Chesley to hear his Confession and then destroy him, so he can have peace:

" 'I require absolution, Matt.'

Chesley pressed his right hand into his pocket. 'It would be sacrilege,' he whispered.

'And if I have a soul, Matt, if I too am required to face judgment,what then?'

Chesley raised his right hand, slowly, and drew the sign of the cross in the thick air. 'I absolve you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.'

'Thank you...There’s something else I need you to do, Matt. This existence holds nothing for me. But I am not sure what downloading might mean.'

'What are you asking?”

'I want to be free of all this. I want to be certain I do not spend a substantial fraction of eternity in the storeroom.'

Chesley trembled. 'If in fact you have an immortal soul,' he said, 'you may be placing it in grave danger.'

'And yours as well. I have no choice but to ask. Let us rely on the mercy of the Almighty.'

Tears squeezed into Chesley’s eyes. He drew his finger- tips across the hard casing of the IBM. 'What do I do? I’m not familiar with the equipment.'

'Have you got the right computer?'

'Yes.'

'Take it apart. Turn off the power first. All you have to do is get into it and destroy the hard disk.'

'Will you — feel anything?'

'Nothing physical touches me, Matt.'

Chesley found the power switch... He found a hammer and a Phillips screwdriver. He used the screwdriver to take the top off the computer. A gray metal box lay within. He opened it and removed a gleaming black plastic disk. He embraced it, held it to his chest. Then he set it down, and reached for the hammer. In the morning, with appropriate ceremony, he buried it in consecrated soil." op.cit., pp.388-389

Even though I am moved to tears when I read this, do I believe that a computer program will have a personality, a soul? Not likely***.

DOES DATA HAVE A SOUL?

This will go somewhat afield. Given the title of this post, it is required that an inquiry into Data's soul be addressed. (For those who aren't Trekkies, Data is the android navigator in the second Star Trek series, Star Trek: the Next Generation. He aspires to humanity and sometimes reaches and even surpasses that state.) There is a problem, however, in that whether Data has a soul is never considered in any of the episodes, possibly because the word "soul" (not in reference to music) is anathema to writers and producers of popular entertainment. So in the episode, "The Measure of a Man", the question "Is Data a sentient being" is asked, rather than "Does Data have a soul".

The question is addressed in a trial, to see if Data, as a "sentient being", has the right to refuse to be disassembled for study and refitting. Captain Picard acts in Data's behalf and Commander Riker, under duress, as the prosecutor. Riker attempts to demonstrate that Data is a machine by switching him off:

"[Riker is doing his duty in the courtroom]

Commander William T. Riker: The Commander is a physical representation of a dream - an idea, conceived of by the mind of a man. Its purpose: to serve human needs and interests. It's a collection of neural nets and heuristic algorithms; its responses dictated by an elaborate software written by a man, its hardware built by a man. And now... and now a man will shut it off.[Riker switches off Data, who slumps forward like a lifeless puppet]

Commander William T. Riker: Pinocchio is broken. Its strings have been cut." The Measure of a Man, Quotes.

Captain Picard gives a stirring defense, arguing that the question of whether Data is conscious--self-aware--has not and can not be settled, any more than whether one can be certain that another person is conscious except by external behavior. And finally the question of soulhood is addressed minimally:

"Captain Phillipa Louvois [The Judge]: It sits there looking at me; and I don't know what it is. This case has dealt with metaphysics - with questions best left to saints and philosophers. I am neither competent nor qualified to answer those. But I've got to make a ruling, to try to speak to the future. Is Data a machine? Yes. Is he the property of Starfleet? No. We have all been dancing around the basic issue: does Data have a soul?[emphasis added] I don't know that he has. I don't know that I have. But I have got to give him the freedom to explore that question himself. It is the ruling of this court that Lieutenant Commander Data has the freedom to choose." [notice the shift from "it" to "he"] ibid.

And so Data is left free, and the question of whether he has a soul, undetermined--as in the Scottish verdict, "Not Proven".

MORE TO COME

In the fourth post of this series, I'll explore end-times, the Eschaton.

REFERENCES

see the first post in this series

*Along with Roger Penrose and John Searle, I don't believe that consciousness is a product of algorithmic processes, i.e. that the brain is a meat computer. But that's a post for another day.

**Scroll down to #1, "Gus".

***As always, I asked my wife to review this post before publishing. I asked her whether she was moved by the story of Gus. She replied, "If it were St. Augustine on his death-bed talking to his confessor, yes; but a black plastic disc--never!"

From a series of articles written by: Bob Kurland - a Catholic Scientist

#catholic physics

0 notes