iamprincesscrouton

[chainsawseesaw]

"I can't listen to music because of my religion." Fuck you. Music is the closest we will ever get to god.

[larcenywrites]

For Love, We Sin the Most

Nightcrawler x Reader

Technically spoilers if you read any x-men anthology and haven't made it through second coming/ haven't read quest for nightcrawler. I don't get into many details or stay very canon anyway lol

Warnings: 18+ | no pronouns or assignments used for reader | unprotected sex | sex in a church | kinda public sex? | an established relationship of some kind ;) | sad | but happy ending! sort of | lots of plot with some porn | comfort/fluff | a little foreplay, a little aftercare | light bondage? sorry I really love his tail

Word count: 2,650

Summary: The resident catholic is having a hard time settling with the terms of his resurrection and just trying to feel again.

When Rachel frantically called on you to find Nightcrawler, you probably preferred to find him in battle, fighting demons. Luckily, on a Sunday morning, you knew exactly where to look first, creaking open the large wooden door just enough to pass through into the small lobby. The lights were off, but there was low singing from further inside. You would have proceeded to peek past that second set of doors, but the quick flick of blue that curled out from the sunlight and into the shadows nearby finished your investigation for you. 

Well, you did, in fact, find him fighting demons.

This would normally be the part where you'd tease him about being terrible at hiding, but you didn't need to see his face to hold your tongue. Instead, you found a nearby panel of switches, flooding his side of the room in low light. Without the darkness, he could no longer blend and hide, but he didn't recoil. Hunched over, his hands were clasped together on his knees, and his tail tightly curled over his feet. You approached him wordlessly. You could tell he was focused but not on you, proven when he crossed himself right on cue. A cue you hardly heard yourself. 

He continued to sit still for a few minutes. Obviously, he knew who stood before him. Otherwise he would have hid. Taking a deep breath, you placed a hand on his shoulder. "Shouldn't you be attending the service?" You asked softly. 

"I," he finally choked out after several moments. "I'm not sure I am allowed to anymore." His words, although quiet, dripped with despair. For him, this welcoming foyer was his ancient narthex, created for those who weren't allowed into the sanctuary but still wished to listen to its sermon. 

"Have you spoken to a Father about it?" Without further knowledge, you can only suggest a priest. 

"And what would I say?" Kurt raised his voice in his anguish and grimaced at his own volume. "What would he say?" He tagged on, much quieter this time. He practically curled into himself as if he were cold. You sighed sadly at the sight, looking away. A small staircase in the corner caught your interest and gave you another idea. Reaching your hands down to his, you unfurled his hands from one another and took them into yours. At the gesture, he finally lifted his head to look at you. It took all you could not to take his sad face in your hands instead. 

"I think he would tell you to come in," you reply in a gentle whisper. You smile down at him as you barely tug him towards you, convincing him to stand. When he finally does, you study him. His black blazer and black slacks, his white button-up shirt. A few top buttons were messily undone, but it only made him more handsome. Silently, with a hand in his, you led him up those wooden steps. Your intuition was right when they opened into a high balcony overlooking the inner room. That narrow gallery stretched against the wall was mostly dark, with only the tops of stained glass windows bleeding in light over the single row of benches. There was a reason someone like him chose such a dark, unpopulated church. 

As you began to leave the doorway, deadweight stopped you in your tracks. Looking back, a pair of downcast yellow eyes glowed under the wooden arch. Naturally, he blended into the shadow. You came back to him, taking his other hand and settling between him and the wall. At the very least, maybe it would help for him to see this place again, you figured. You let him listen, watching him closely as he watched the floor. 

And what a horrible day for a sermon about heaven. 

"I saw it, you know," he barely spoke up, accent whispering like a snake. "Paradise." He said the word hauntingly, not with any grandeur nor remorse. He turned his head as he spoke, looking down at the alter, but he seemed distant. Perhaps in memory. The light of the window caught his eye and reflected brilliant pale yellow. In the darkness, the other was like fire. 

"And yet you came back," you whispered back. Even you weren't quite sure what you meant by it, but he knew it wasn't merely an observation. Contemplating, he stared down into the room. The priest below continued, but you only wanted to hear whatever else Kurt had to say. 

"There were many reasons I did what I did," he soon continued, still not looking at you. "Did it the way I did." He never told you the full story, not even Logan knew. You waited for more, but he didn't respond. He probably didn't want to talk about it—at least, not for another few minutes.

"I never thought that love would be my greatest sin," he finally said. "I wanted so badly to come back," he nearly sobbed, quickly putting his hand over his mouth to keep from interrupting the service below. He gathered himself for a few moments. 

"To this place," he continued, "to my friends," he sighs before turning towards you, his fiery orbs still refusing to meet your gaze, "to you." Even when you cupped his cheek in your hand, his hand you left behind followed, fingers wrapping around your wrist. "That it would be greater than my love for God," he started but didn't finish when his voice began to rise again. By now he was rambling about things you hardly understood, but you hung on to every word. 

"You said it yourself," you gently tease, more loving than lighthearted. "There is no love without sin." With a soft smile, your touch on his cheek stroked over the fur on his neck and drifted over what bare upper chest those undone buttons revealed. You knew you shouldn't, not here, but as his expression only grew more somber, you found yourself sliding your hand further, reaching the space above his heart for only a second before frantic yet gentle fingers pulled you away, afraid of what you'd find.

Or the lack thereof. 

You couldn't stand to see him so sad, not even willing to look at you. As the preaching continued somewhere down below, something about fulfillment, there was really only one thing on your mind as you continued to watch his pained eyes. "Do you miss it?" You didn't mean to let your emotion ring in your tone as you whispered— doubt, disappointment, sadness. He picked up on it, raising his face once more to meet your gaze. Solemn eyes panicked, realizing his mistake. With a change of posture, he stepped closer, grasping your arm and placing your palm over his chest again. "Not in the same way I missed here," he reassured you. His eyes were still sad, but so earnest. You could feel the metal cross hanging from his pendant with how hard he pressed your palm into his chest. You both stared at one another in silence, but understanding. 

Something about the word doom was quietly uttered through the archway.  

"I realize now that I had already found Paradise," he proclaimed longingly, leaning in slightly. Though flattered, you only half-smiled. 

"You shouldn't talk like that here," you whispered, cupping his jaw. "Surely it's a sin." 

And he'd already cut his path of redemption short enough. 

"And yet it would be a sin not to." His tone was almost desperate. He leaned in closer, head tilted dangerously close to a kiss. You began to protest, but his grip on your arm tightened in defiance. "My soul is already adrift elsewhere," he hissed in a hurried whisper, "and He has no use for my body." He shook his head in defeat, tilting his chin to kiss the hand that held him before looking back up. "So if it's all I have left, I will use it to worship who does." His voice cracked against your lips, and he practically fell into you. 

Your back hit the wall with a thud that made you panic, but any protest of his name was muffled and lost between his lips. He could only follow what made him feel at the moment, and he'd come to his senses later, but right now, he was desperate to atone for his sins in a different way. It was a long, suffocating kiss that was touch-starved, hardly focused on any particular pleasure other than the need for your warmth. Despite knowing your current circumstances, you relaxed into him, taking your hand from his face and gripping the soft, indigo curls on the back of his head. He took that as his cue to press into you impossibly more, knees knocking with yours as you both nearly buckled from his weight. 

Finally, he pulled back just enough to catch his breath, warm breath fanning against your cheek a few times before eagerly diving back in. This time, he moved with you. Your noses knocked each time he rolled his head to find his favorite angle, and, in annoyance, you tried to hold him still with your hand on his neck and your grip on his hair. In response, his lips parted, tongue lapping at your top lip and tentatively touching yours when you let him in. 

His grip on your waist was harsh, almost as if he was scared that if he let go even a little, he might lose this moment forever. As if he couldn't hold you enough, his tail joined in, wrapping itself beneath your ass and tightly snaking around your waist. You felt him smile into the kiss when you pet over the peach fuzz of his tail before he abruptly pulled away from your lips, tongue sliding over your bottom lip as he withdrew into your neck. Sweetly, he kisses your pulse. And you know where he's going. 

"We should 'port somewhere else," you suggest softly. The light kisses on your neck become open-mouthed and wet, showing you just what he thinks about your suggestion. You catch the words reunion with God bouncing off the wall, and you weren't sure if the devil himself said it or the clergyman was sermonizing below. You tilted your head back for him at the prickling feeling of his fangs. 

With a mind of their own, your hands worked down the rest of the button on his shirt, splaying your fingers through the velvety fluff of his chest, barely able to feel the warm beating of his heart. At least you knew that he was alive, in some way or another. 

Making sure you could feel all of him, you pushed his blazer and shirt off his shoulders, feeling him down and scratching over his abs just the way he used to like it, and he tensed them just the way you remember. 

When his hands left your hips to slide off his clothes, they came back to do the same to you, sliding under your top and over your bare skin. You let him undress you, and eventually, you both stood nude. 

Even after being… gone for so long, he remembered just where to touch you. He held your hips flush with his while licked over your nipple, pawed between your legs, and tickled your inner thigh with the curling of his fuzzy tail. Feeling boneless, the wall helped him to hold you up while you focused on covering your mouth to muffle your pleasured moans and sighs. 

You were suddenly spun around, strong arms wrapped tightly around you as they swiftly lowered you to the wooden floor. Kurt's lithe form settled between your legs, back bowed as he bent down to mouth over your stomach. On his knees, he worshiped you carnally, hands gripping over-excitedly at your thighs and waist. 

Fingers around your wrist pulled your hand from your mouth, quickly replaced with that crushing pair of full lips again. Some would say he was desecrating holy ground, but Kurt would say quite the opposite. In a nest of clothes, right there in the dark loft of his place of faith, he took you. Whether it was because he was most comforted here or because he was angry at the circumstances, his hips pumped into you with a fervor that had you clawing into his back and biting his shoulder to muffle your whines. 

The floor was cold and hard and uncomfortable as he rocked you back and forth, but he was the opposite— warm and soft and lovingly fucking you into the ground. Luckily, the pious music drifting through the doorway covered up the sound of his cock slapping into you and his hissing moans as you bit and carved the punishment of love into his skin. 

You were ripped from his shoulder when he sat up, not even bothering to cover your gasping moan at the change in angle. Blunt nails dug into your skin as he held your hips, making your legs squirm and draw up behind him with the overstimulated pleasure. 

It was like a perverse religious painting, with his cross pendant wildly swinging above you and fangs gleaming along with his eyes; his tail, pointed like a devil's, bound your legs around his waist. This was heaven to him right now, watching you arch your back off the ground and eyes fluttering heavily as you both found that perfect sweet spot. 

It was when you came on him that his glowing eyes beheld the glorious sight he was searching for. He kept going, desperate to keep the image of your moaning, parted lips in his mind, and keep the feeling of your warm cream that dripped over his cock. "Oh~ mein gott," he growled at the way you tightened around him. You could almost laugh at the way he said it if you weren't busy trying to recover. "(Y/N)," he panted and spoke your name like gospel. "My dearest."

Your only response could be a meek whimper of his name, but it was enough when you weakly rolled your head to look up at him. If you couldn't tell by the way his brows raised and furrowed, you knew that he was right on the edge by the constriction of his tail around your ankles, keeping you bound around him while he came, throbbing, deep inside you. 

It was quiet now, aside from panting and the sounds of the congregation conversing and slowly departing that same creaking door that got you here in the first place. You felt you could finally relax and close your eyes when the last of the noise was shut out with the door, and you could finally stretch out your legs again as you felt his tail unravel. He had the same idea, stretching out his legs when he fell into your side. He let you have your space, but that sneaky tail laid loosely over your thigh. 

You felt a sort of regret for him as you turned to take in the proper view of his nude form lying elegantly in your bed of disheveled clothes, wishing to know what this meant for him… but you weren't going to ask, letting him bask in release— whatever kind it was. You reached for his pendant, twirling the chain between your fingers and observing the discoloration of the metal cross. Without even opening an eye, he took your attention away from it with a touch, making you hold his hand against his chest instead. 

"I-" You eventually break the silence but pause, unsure what excerpt you should say. It gets his attention, eyes lifting to look into yours. You muster a smile. "I'm glad you're back," you say softly, simply. Despite the circumstances, despite what it meant, despite what it's already done to you, you wanted to add, but his own bittersweet smile already knew what you meant. 

"Me too," he whispered and brought your hand up from his chest to kiss your knuckles. "Me too, my dear." 

[pulpbeing]

whenever i go to church, if im not asleep i always thinkin bout fuckin my fav on the altar (this case, dottie,,)

excuse me if this seems too. you know.. sacrilege ,, (i dont know if you actually like god or forced to like big daddy up in the sky) feel free to ignore my ramblings im a crazed man

yk,, thinkin bout maybe you're a priest. n you end up with a sinner of a lover.. he gotta repent, right? just bending him over the altar, making him wet the bible with his drool and tears.. poundin into him so hard and relentlessly but your words are sooo sweet and just praises, makes him so dizzy cuz you're tuggin on his hair harshly as ya make him read the bible,, tellin him good for tryin to read even tho his babblin and his eyes are blurry from cryin,, makin him bite onto a rosary as u cum inside of him, but never stoppin until you think he's repented for his sins despite him being so fucked out and cumming so many times he can't think anymore,,, only how good your cock feels inside of him 😰😰

of course can't forget about the confession booth. favorite place to think about doing it. making him touch himself on the other side as you tell him what to do, and allll the nasty stuff u want to do to him and he's whining for you because he can't possibly finish without you :( then stuffing his mouth full of your cock, telling him to be quiet as you let others in for confessions... n he's tryiing so hard to stay quiet but ohh he just loves how you grip on his hair so harshly and bury his face down to your crotch till he could barely breathe.. choking till theres tears in his eyes and he's gripping on your thighs until your skin bruises... n when they leave, you fuck his throat and express disappointment that he's not keeping shut, but you forgive him and that you believe that he can do better! and ofc he would,, so he tries and tries again at every person that enters the booth.. not getting a taste of your release bc he keeps failing,, n he wants to sob cuz fuck he wants your cum down his throat so bad.. but its worth it, you're always very generous when u reward him when he finally does it right 💞💞

basically sweet priest that has effectively broke his mind,, makin a man like dottore worship you like a god n would get on his knees for you without any questions... thinkin mindbreaking him with really sweet praises that he now can't live without em,,,

i was raised christian, specifically pentecostal and missionary, so i don’t have much experience at all with catholic practices beyond media i’ve consumed o7 and dw. i don’t believe in the man upstairs. sacrilege is my middle name with how much gay sex shit i be thinking in a church. if he hasn’t struck me down yet, doubt he exists as i’ve been told lolol. not like i’d want my church’s version of a hypocritical god.

n e ways

if he can’t even accept your god-fearing, pure love, you doubt he can accept god into his heart for sure. he’s too greedy, always begging for more of you, of your semen, more of you folding him in half and bending him over so roughly you leave bruises on him for days. watch how he shivers in sinful delight when you tut in disappointment into his ear, calling him a “worthless whore destined to an eternity of damnation” and a “greedy, filthy sinner.” the wood of the altar is only saved by the nun’s habit you have him wear, the modest dress flipped up and held from behind to expose his greedy hole, ring of frothy white around it that exposed just how sinful he’s willing to be if he’ll defile such a place with his filthy, dirty words and sins. but… it’s better if he only sins with you, and since your god is merciful, you just have to forgive him, make him repent and beg forgiveness from the lord as you pump him full yet again, force his head back by grabbing his dyed hair and make him look at the ceiling, to the heavens above as he screams your name. looks like you have to have him repent again.

like any pastor, one must guide their sheep through all, especially when they misbehave— especially ones like dottore, who at the moment, doesn’t even deserve to have you properly continue with his guidance with how sloppy and loud he is, sinful mouth drooling and slobbering with every bob of his head, so, in his punishment, you keep him from his reward. of course, you still have a job to do, still have others to guide, so while he pouts with his lips still attached to your sex, you attend to follower after follower, your merciful god granting them all forgiveness as you do with your pitiful dottore. like all lambs, he’ll eventually learn to listen completely lest they be led astray and be devoured by the wolves— so he takes your gift, his throat bulging with how you fill him like the holy spirit does to a true believer. he takes it all as he should, eyes fluttering to a close as he basks in your forgiveness and mercy.

ah, it seems as though he sees you as his god now.

[sins0fthefather]

Wrath.

Jeff the Killer HCs:

General HCs:

Full Name: Jeffrey Alexander Woods (Only responds to Jeff though. Best case scenario if you call him his full name is he’ll ignore you, worst case scenario is him flipping his shit on you)

Age: 22-25 (Based on where in the story a character study/fic takes place)

Birthday: September 22 (Older than Liu by 2 years)

Wasian— Father is Chinese, mother is a born n’ raised Texan

Biromantic, Demisexual

Has autism, C-PTSD, BPD (contributor to his auditory hallucinations), NPD, ASPD, and BDD

Right Handed

6’1 (185~ cm)

Covered in burn scars, most noticeably on his chest, forearms, and back

He uses white facepaint, it makes his face’s silhouette look “cleaner” in his eyes

His cuts have healed up for the most part, although he’ll have moments where he relapses and cuts at them again. The ends will also sometimes tear if he does something like laugh too hard.

Very touchy with other people, but he despises being touched first. He prefers to initiate physical contact- both because of the control aspect of it and because of his general distrust of others.

His sense of humor waxes and wanes from extreme condescension to the most morbid sentences you’ve ever heard. Half of the time it doesn’t even sound like a joke.

Reckless driver, cursed with terrible road rage

Smokes cigarettes, his brand of choice is Marlboro

Drinks vodka straight as if it were water

I feel like his favorite band would be Tool or Slipknot. His music taste is just metal and dad rock.

Was brought up in a Catholic school for most of his life, although he obviously doesn’t keep up with the practice anymore. This is a big catalyst for why he develops a god complex however since he “has authority over life and death”— something unique only to gods from what he was taught.

Very observant of the people around him. He memorizes speech patterns, demeanors, even the way people walk. He’s gotten to the point where he can read people and their intentions well before they’re explicitly stated, making it much easier for him to spot a lie. However this also makes it much easier for him to tell when he’s truly pushing somebody’s buttons, and there’s nothing he loves more than pushing people past their limit.

Always stealing glances of himself in any mirror he walks past

He’s an opportunistic killer. Limiting himself to patterns clashes with the creativity and the thrill of the moment to him. However, there are specific elements of a kill he will often repeat if the mood strikes him. An example of this would be often including strangulation (albeit usually not the direct cause of death) to reflect his acquired need for control in all moments of his life. Sometimes he will also pose bodies in a “prayer” position to call back that god complex I mentioned.

He doesn’t always kill people immediately. If someone catches his eye, usually because he finds them beautiful in some aspect, he’ll take it a step further. He has no problem with being patient when the situation arises for it- stalking the person, learning their habits and schedules, the whole shebang. He’ll then slowly start to ruin said person’s life, isolating them through the slaughter of those closest to them and destroying any sense of peace and security they once had. He’s the sound that goes -bump- in the night. He’ll toy with his food until he eventually grows bored, disposing them like all the rest. After all, how dare someone else try to be beautiful in his presence- a punishment of the highest order is necessary.

His anger can be very… explosive. He doesn’t stick around very long for enough people besides victims to see it, but it can be as unpredictable as his own kills. It’s worse when he’s silent in his anger however, since with the former you at least have enough of a warning to brace yourself.

Backstory-Centric HCs:

(TW: csa, murder, mutilation, religious trauma, general stuff)

Takes place in college. Jeff is 22 at the start while Liu is 20.

Instead of being a one-off instance, Jeff and Liu have been subjected to bullying/borderline harassment since middle school. This builds up Jeff’s gradual distrust of others and leads to him shutting himself off from his peers.

Most of said bullying revolved around their mixed race situation. It only got worse as Jeff shut himself off and Liu became a people pleaser.

The two didn’t even have peace at home, since their parents were sexually abusive and excused it through their religion. It was “all apart of god’s love” as they said. This + the bullying leads Liu to develop DID and kickstarts Jeff’s resentment towards their parents. It also led Jeff to develop a twisted belief on what love and beauty is since god apparently “favored” the beauty of his parent’s form of “love.”

On one particular instance of bullying/harassment, a small group of people he grew up with planned on jumping and mugging Jeff behind a bar. Things escalated when Jeff retaliated in self defense, beating his aggressors with a nearby pipe found laying against a dumpster. He didn’t leave unscathed however, since one of the attackers dropped a lighter into the flammable materials (alcohol, trash, etc) that had been scattered in the fight, planning on making everyone go down in that moment. Jeff managed to survive (albeit with severe burns along his body) after being found by an employee who went to go check out the noise/smell of smoke, but the others succumbed to their wounds.

While in a heavy state of shock and psychosis (paired with being drugged up out the wazoo at the hospital) his usual unchecked auditory hallucinations worsened, leading his mind to trick him into believing this situation was a sign from god- that he was supposed to survive while his tormentors burned. Paired with his already twisted concepts of love and beauty, he began to believe that his burns were part of god’s plan to make him more beautiful- because he was favored.

This only gets worse when he’s released from the hospital’s custody due to a neglect in checking his mental state. After being sent home with his family and therefore being thrown back into the abusive environment he hoped to escape when going to college he ends up experiencing a psychotic break, mutilating himself in the process.

When his parents catch him, they attack him. In their eyes he had disgraced them, no longer upholding the “beauty” of heaven that they enforced. He ends up killing them in self defense, but furthers it by mutilating their bodies in an act of defiance induced by his break. He believes he’s outdone god in this moment, deluding himself into thinking he’s on the same level (or even better) than god.

While overcome by his psychotic break, he ends up severely wounding Liu after he wakes up to check out the noise. It becomes a conspiracy on if Liu survived or not since his body was never found by authorities.

The reason why Jeff continues on his spree after these instances is the feel of control he gets. After being forced into submission by those around him for so long, he finally feels a stable sense of power over those he deems as less than him.

He ends up wandering throughout the states after this, hopping from town to town. He never stays in one place for long, although sometimes he’ll revisit his home town to give the urban legend fanatics something to fear again.

[catholic-character-tournament]

Round 1 - Side B

Propaganda below ⬇️

Matt

Matt's faith in the show is really important and well explored; one of the first scenes of the show is Matt going to confession (or, well, talking to his priest since he's not really confessing at that point). Matt struggles a lot with what he's supposed to do; everyone's telling him to kill the villain and he kinda wants to, but he literally says: "I know my soul is damned if I take his life". He struggles with his faith and goes with his doubts to his priest, and it's beautiful—also when he finally gets a costume for his vigilanteing he chooses to dress as the devil, lol. (His priest tells him that nothing makes people run to Church faster than the feeling of having the devil on their heels.)

a lot of the show is about how he justifies his vigilante actions with his faith, and whether he's doing the right thing in trying to help people or just using it as an outlet for his anger. the literal first scene of the show has him in a confession booth talking to his priest (who is a really interesting character too). this is not the scene I was talking about but it's such an excellent scene with matt talking to his priest: https://youtu.be/XHZ3NbEIDdw

canonically catholic but dresses like a demon to be quirky

honestly i dont wanna type too much but i feel that matt is a great example of someone who battles with his faith because he rarely loses his faith but rather fights with why he was made the way he was and put through what he was. He believes himself to have the devil inside him but believes that God put him there

ok in the comics barring the most current run matt has Mostly been a non-practicing Catholic that very rarely actually does any catholic Activities but ends up falling back into the Mindset and very occasionally dramatically taking confession (ex. in that one issue where he takes confession, basically tells the father that he is uniquely terrible and is thinking about violently murdering someone and when the father says "you can be forgiven" hes like "AUGFH-- NO!!!!!!!!!!" and runs out) when he's gone through some shit. and i love that its so relatable

hello its me cct organizer. i have to come clean, i made this tournament because i need matt to win something. i dont think hell win the sadboy and he lost the ginger tournament and >:( hes my favoritest guy ever. Also @ who said he has religious trauma is wrong and i will fight u about it (nicely) on my main @usaigi

This guy so catholic he spends an ungodly amount of time just chilling in the church. And goes there whenever there is a moral conundrum about killing people being Bad even though it would solve a lot of problems and stop said people from killing other people. This happens every other episode. Matt is the Catholic Guilt Guy. There's actually a lot of catholic stuff in the show as a whole. Just a compilation would be like three whole episodes long.

Hes great hes catholic enough to not outrught murder people but not catholic enough to not fuck before marriage hes a bisexual disaster at all times hes besties with a priest might i add hes great hes my special little guy

his catholicism is a huge piece of his characterisation he was raised by nuns in a catholic orphanage, the first scene we ever see him (as an adult and not a flashback) is him going to confession, he is good friend with his priest and has regular debates with him, etc also in s3 he has a huge crisis of faith after he lost A Lot where he stops believing for a while and it's linked to his identity crisis where he actually wants to kill another person (a hard line he previously chose never to cross) and wants to be only daredevil and not matt murdock, when he is both and needs both to exist also when he was a kid his grandmother used to say "watch out for the murdock boys, they've got the devil in them" and it created a surprising lot of his issues

So he's both catholic in the comics and the show but he's More Catholic in the show. Like, raised in a catholic orphanage by nuns (ONE OF WHICH IS HIS *MOTHER*), second scene in the show has him in a confession box kind. Matt Murdock goes out and gets the shit beaten out of him nightly and also beats the shit out of other people and purposefully leaned into devil iconography as his theme. When his nurse friend says, he takes a lot of punishment without one complaint he says "That part's the Catholicism." It is a Core Aspect of his character (at least in the show). He makes me insane. Also the same chemicals that blinded him created the teenage mutant ninja turtles and everyone should know that.

They went to confession to a priest who they had saved as their costumed counterpart and the guy recognized them by the voice, proving that it's possible and everyone else is just dumb

he takes "i wanna fight god" to new and incredibly violent levels, while also being a sweetheart and a goofball

Actually strictly WILL NOT kill criminals. Goes wayyy out of his way to avoid it. Fights with the Punisher about it. Goes to confession booth after nightly vigilante excursions. Feels so much guilt. "How have you been holding up?" "Like a good Caltholic boy" "that bad huh" - actual conversation with his priest

So Daredevil struggles with his mission as a crime fighter because killing criminals goes against his faith. He makes it a point to not kill criminals, believing that even bad people deserve a second chance. This philosophy puts him at odds against The Punisher, who is a relentless killer. As a Catholic myself, while I love the concept of a morally conflicted superhero, I think the worldbuilding around Daredevil is lacking. If he struggles with violence and killing, why doesn't he pray to warrior saints like Saint Michael, Saint Ignatius of Loyola (a former knight), or Saint Joan of Arc? Why isn't there a community of other Catholics he can turn to for guidance, considering New York City has a sizeable population of Catholics? And why are the churches he goes to always empty? Doesn't he know that the Catholic Church supports the just war theory? I think that would have made his burden more bearable.

He goes to church and confesses to punching people and says "imma do it again can i apologize in advance" and the father dude says "no you're meant to stop now" and Matt says "no" and they do this everyday. I'm not remembering it properly but this is a canon interaction i swear

HELLO HI YES I LOVE HIM AND WILL INFOR DUMP ok so. he is a vigalantty and he got named daredevil and he is an orphan and after the age of 12 was raised in an orphanage at a Catholic church and his therapist is his priest via confession abd. also his mother is a nun he has a whole mental breakdown over god and called Job a pussy because he liked god until he got better and liked god again he said "I'm dearedrvil and not even god can stop that now" and he's so cool

matt is a freakish little babygirl who was raised by nuns and definitely has religious trauma. i hate him so much (affectionately)

he’s literally fucking insane about it i don’t know what to say here. he thinks he’s chosen by god to go on some sort of holy quest to save hell’s kitchen. joan of arc ass.

i already know hes in by default j just wanted to give him a personal shout out i love this angsty catholic dweeb

how practicing he is depends on the run, but in my favorite he is quite literally confessing to a member of the last extant order millitant who happens to be a priest at a church in hells kitchen.

i love him for having the funniest version of a trope i usually hate (person gets into confession booth and asks forgiveness not for what they've done, but for what they're about to do). usually this trope just looks silly to me bc like. the priest would just say "i can't do that" and you would have to either awkwardly explain yourself or just Leave. it's funny when matt does it because fr. lantom is probably like "what are you gonna do???" and matt's like "lol. lmao. 😊 hehehe." anyway we love this angry catholic man who dresses up like the devil to beat people up in hell's kitchen

Harrowhark

I'm pretty sure you've already got plenty of submissions for her so I'll just say she was raised in what is basically a cult (technically a nunnery but let's be real) dedicated to keeping the body of the thing that will kill God behind the rock. One of their prayers is actually "I pray the rock is never rolled away". Harrow is extremely devout as penance for her earlier heretical actions in the tomb as a child (spoiler!) so the Catholic guilt really comes through

imagine being a catholic nun and you meet god, but it turns out he’s a twitch streamer from new zealand who became god because everything got a little bit out of hand. and just before you met him you gave yourself a diy grief-fuelled lobotomy with the help of your best frenemy. imagine how insane you’d be. now multiply that insanity by nine. that’s the fictional love of my life right there.

she meets god. she’s not inspired

she’s number one practitioner of space Catholicism. The locked tomb is chock full of Christian (catholic) imagery themes metaphors etc. just look at her she’s got a bone rosary

They're Catholicism with extra bones. Everyone is a nun. They have what is basically a rosary made from knuckle bones. They technically worship the same God as everyone else, but they're waaaay more focused on The Body in the Tomb (Mary) and we get a moment where we find out that while everyone else prays the equivilent of The Lords Prayer, they're doing the equivilent of Hail Mary. And they paint their faces with skulls.

She thinks leaving dry bread in a drawer is taking care of someone. She's in love with a 10,000 year old corpse (the same one they worship). She spent ALL NIGHT digging with her bare hands to make sure a field had bones every 5 feet so she could fight her girlfriend - I mean, greatest enemy. Spoiler territory: She's been puppeting her parents corpses since she was 8 years old. Instead of grieving her dead girlfriend, she gives herself a lobotomy. She makes soup with bone in it so she can use the bone IN THEIR STOMACH to try and kill them.

The author is/was Catholic and the entire series had heavy Catholic overtones. https://www.tor.com/2020/08/19/gideon-the-ninth-young-pope-and-the-new-pope-are-building-a-queer-catholic-speculative-fiction-canon/ A good breakdown of how it's Catholic

[jbaileyfansite]

Interview with the Los Angeles Times (2024)

“This is where all the cruising happened.”

Jonathan Bailey and I are standing in Pershing Square on a bright, blustery spring afternoon, nearing the end of a homemade queer history tour of downtown L.A.: One Magazine, Cooper Do-Nuts/Nancy Valverde Square, the Dover bathhouse, the Biltmore Hotel and this, the city’s former Central Park, a haven, since before World War I, for “fairies” and “sissy boys,” servicemen on leave and beatniks on the road.

“Is it still happening now?” he asks.

“Probably not as much,” I venture.

“Well, you let me know if it’s happening,” he teases, a mischievous smile lighting up his face.

Bailey understands the uses of the charm offensive. As Sam, the handsome Lothario of Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s delightful pre-”Fleabag” curio, “Crashing”; Anthony, the romantic hero of “Bridgerton’s” second season; and John, the jerk of a protagonist in Mike Bartlett’s love triangle play “Cock,” the English actor, 36, has swaggered up to the precipice of superstardom. With roles in such studio tentpoles as “Wicked” and “Jurassic World” on the horizon, he may just break through. Yet he delivers career-best work in Showtime’s queer melodrama “Fellow Travelers,” as anti-Communist crusader-turned-gay rights activist Tim Laughlin, by leaving behind the self-assured rakes and tapping a new wellspring: soft power.

Tim may be, as Bailey puts it, “an open nerve,” but as it turns out, the devout Catholic and political naïf — who falls for suave State Department operative Hawkins “Hawk” Fuller (Matt Bomer) just as Sen. Joseph McCarthy tries to purge the federal government of LGBTQ people — is formidable indeed.

Stretching from the Lavender Scare to the depths of the AIDS crisis, in scenes of tenderness, cruelty and toe-curling sex, Bailey’s performance communicates that little-spoken truth of relationships: It takes more strength to submit than it does to control. The former demands discipline, courage, trust; the latter requires only force.

“In ‘Bridgerton,’ [Bailey] is like a Hawkins Fuller character — he is very sexy and has lots of power, has that kind of confident charisma that absolutely is not Tim at all,” says “Fellow Travelers” creator Ron Nyswaner.

But any doubt about Bailey’s ability to mesh with Bomer, who boarded the project early in development, was put to bed with the actors’ virtual rehearsal of a meeting on a park bench in the pilot. “‘Well, that’s a first,’” Nyswaner recalls an executive texting him. “I cried in a chemistry read.”

‘Am I inviting people in?’

Bailey grew up in a musical family in the Oxfordshire countryside outside London, and this, coupled with an appreciation for the morning prayers, choir practice and Mass he attended as a scholarship student at the local Catholic school, fed his precocious talents. (“I loved the performance of it,” he laughs. “Not to diminish the celebration of religious process, but I did love the idea of wearing a gown.”) By age 10, he’d appeared in the West End, playing Gavroche in a production of “Les Misérables,” an experience he now recognizes as an encounter with a queer found family — albeit one shadowed by the toll of the AIDS crisis, which peaked in the U.K. in the mid-1990s.

“When I’m asked about my childhood, there’s so much I don’t remember, and I think that’s true of anyone who’s been in fight or flight for 20 years,” he says. “I would have been in a cast of people whose friends would have died in the last seven years. I think of where I was seven years ago. I had all my gay friends then. It’s only retrospectively that I can retrofit a real gay community around me [in the theater], that I just wasn’t aware of [then].”

During the late 1990s and early 2000s, American and British culture presented queer adolescents with a bewildering array of mixed signals. As beloved celebrities came out in growing numbers, and the battle for marriage equality became a central locus of LGBTQ political organizing, the media continued to propagate harmful stereotypes of gay men as miserable, lonely, perverted or worse — and, Bailey remembers, callously turned George Michael, arrested on suspicion of cruising in a Beverly Hills restroom in 1998, and Irish pop star Stephen Gately, who revealed his sexuality in 1999, fearful he was about to be outed, into tabloid spectacles.

No wonder Bailey, like many LGBTQ people of his generation, should feel the “chemical” thrill of “validation and acceptance” during London Pride at age 18, then embark on a two-year relationship with a woman in his 20s.

“Dangerously, if you’re not exposed to people who can show you other examples of happiness, you think that’s the easiest way to live,” Bailey says. “It’s funny. You look back and you can tell the story in one way, which is that I always knew who I was and my sexuality and my identity within that. But obviously at times, it was really tough. I compromised my own happiness, for sure. And compromised other people’s happiness.”

Disclosures about his personal life have become particularly thorny for the actor since the premiere of “Bridgerton,” the blockbuster bodice-ripper from executive producer Shonda Rhimes.

“The Netflix effect does knock you off center completely,” he says, recalling the experience of finding a paparazzo waiting outside his new flat before he’d even moved in. “Suddenly, you do start having nightmares about people climbing in your windows... Even now, talking about it makes me feel like, ‘Am I inviting people in?’”

He is also critical of the media for churning out headlines about the smallest details of celebrities’ private lives, often detached from their original context. In an interview with the London Evening Standard published in December, Bailey described a harrowing encounter in a Washington, D.C., coffee shop in which a man threatened his life for being queer — and, in recounting the experience, offhandedly mentioned the “lovely man” he’d called, shaken, after it happened. Although Bailey acknowledges that the original story handled the subject with aplomb, he felt dismayed that more attention wasn’t paid to the intended warning about rising anti-LGBTQ sentiment: “The only thing that got syndicated from that story was that I had a boyfriend, and it wasn’t true,” he sighs. “It was kind of depressing, if I’m honest.”

Still, Bailey, who once turned down a role in a queer-themed TV series because it would have required him to speed along revelations about his personal life he wasn’t ready to make, is prepared to embrace the power of vulnerability when it feeds the work. Although a member of his inner circle expressed doubts about “Fellow Travelers’” steamy sex scenes, for instance, the actor intuited that they were what made the project worth doing: “I was like, ‘I’m telling you, they are the reason why this is going to be brilliant.’”

‘He’s changed my trajectory in my own life’

To those who would complain about the state of sex in film and TV, “Fellow Travelers” is the perfect riposte. All of it matters, from Tim’s first flirtation with Hawk to the finale’s closing minutes, because the series, at its core, is about the importance of soft power: the strength required to bend, but not break; to adapt, but not abandon oneself; to survive without shrinking to nothing in the process.And depicting that through sex, specifically gay sex, makes “Fellow Travelers” radical indeed.

Bailey understands that baring so much comes with certain risks. When I tell him that research for the story has filled my algorithmic “For You” feed on X (formerly Twitter) with speculation that his onscreen relationship with Bomer has a real-life element, he notes that “shipping” fictional couples and costars alike has long been part of Hollywood fantasy. But he bristles at the implication that he and Bomer are anything but skilled actors at work.

“I would love for people to know that the success of our chemistry isn’t based on us f—. It’s actually about us leaning into the craft,” he says. “It’s a vulnerable situation to be in, talking about it on record. I don’t want to rob people of their thoughts. But I do have a set of values, and as an artist, you don’t need to be f— to tell that love story.”

Underlying that craft, Bailey adds, is the confidence to speak up, as with one scene in “Fellow Travelers” that was adjusted because he said, “I don’t want to be naked today.” He learned to use his voice the hard way: In his early 20s, he recalls, he was once “bullied” on set when “someone was threatened” by him and vowed to himself, “I’m never going to do that to someone. I’m never going to allow that to happen.”

This impulse to direct his influence in support of others has blossomed further with “Fellow Travelers.” On the day of our interview, Bailey enthuses about an upcoming meeting with legendary gay rights activist Cleve Jones and shares his idea for a docuseries recording the stories of elders in the LGBTQ+ community while they are still here to tell them. He describes lying in a hospital bed on set on World AIDS Day, in character as Tim, surrounded by gay men who had lost friends and lovers during the crisis, and finding himself thinking, “What do I want to leave behind?”

“I think he’s changed my trajectory in my own life,” Bailey says.

This is, perhaps, the most common reaction I know to diving deep into queer history — the understanding that we, like our forerunners, are responsible for shaping the queer future, whether in politics, society or art. No one is going to do it on our behalf.

As we stand on the nondescript corner now named for her, I relate the story of the late queer activist Nancy Valverde, who was arrested repeatedly while a barber school student in the 1950s on suspicion of “masquerading” because of her preference for short hair and men’s clothing, and later successfully challenged her harassment by the police in court.

“What a hero!” Bailey exclaims, wondering at Valverde’s bravery. “The thing that’s so interesting with power battles is, ultimately, identity is the thing that gives you the most strength and power in your life, isn’t it?

“Because that’s one thing people can’t take away from you: who you are and how you express yourself.”

Source

[hoeforalbedo]

ᗪEᗩᒪ ᗯITᕼ TᕼE ᗪEᐯIᒪ ✟

Chapter 2

———————— ♱ ————————

WARNING: PLEASE READ

Sensitive topics including vague details of SA. Reader will display many mental health such as depression, PTSD, and anxiety. I will also discuss after effects of said trauma such as hyper sexuality, over-sexualizing oneself, over trusting, and many more. (Many cope in different ways however I am more familiar with this side of the spectrum as I have taken this information from my experience.) Suicidal topics. Horror. Manipulation. Blasphemy. Religious horror and possibly hints of religious trauma. Demons. Paganism. Witchcraft (I try to depict witchcraft as accurate as I can however if I make it too accurate, it will seem boring so I did add magical abilities. I write it based off of how I practice it). Possession. Death. Murder. Exorcism. Sex. Ritualistic sex. Female reader. A bit of crack (reader doesn’t take things seriously. Humor is the way of coping 😭)

If any of these themes trigger you, please do not read. You have already been warned.

Writing criticism is appreciated since I want to get better in writing.

Note: This story is heavily inspired by Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, and honestly I was going to write a story like that but I wanted something original. I did leave in some ideas I really liked so to anyone who watched it, you guys may know a little bit of the direction I’m going with for a specific character. Also yay, I did manage to post it but Chapter 3 may take a bit.

Summary: Everything is happening too fast and it just keeps getting worse. Hey, at least you got to see a friend!

———————— ♱ ————————

Hongjoong’s body is tangled with yours with only a thin blanket covering you both. He feels so good as he thrusts slowly and passionately into your sopping wet hole.

“Hongjoong,” Whines fell from your lips like a prayer. You dig your nails into his back and bury your face into the crook of his neck.

“Feel so good, squeezing me so right, doll,” He groans in your ear, his tip pressing against your cervix snugly.

“Joong, please,” You gasp as his pace quickens, driving you closer and closer to the taste of your sweet orgasm.

“That’s right. Say my name, doll. Scream it. Worship me,”He starts grunting out nonsense, although it sounded right under the drunken haze of pleasure. His thrust only became rougher, drawing strings of profanity from you. “So sinful,” He chuckles. “Tell God how much you love this demon’s cock,” He cackles, tearing you away from pleasure. When you look at him, his eyes are rolled back to his head and some black substance oozes out of his mouth.

You let out a horrid scream and reached for anything on your night stand. “Get off of me!” You cry, grabbing some object and hitting Hongjoong on the head with it. He then collapses over you and you shakily toss away the object you killed him with, a crucifix.

He lifts his head up, “You can’t run from the mark of lust.”

You sat up immediately, ending whatever nightmare that was. It felt so real, and you swear it felt so good before the whole demonic stuff happened.

That night you prayed. To be honest, during times like these, you suddenly become a devout Christian, or was it Catholic? Does it matter? They both worship God.

“Have you ever seen Doctor Who?” You walk around the courtyard of the church as you ask the priest some questions. The courtyard doesn’t seem to be well taken care of, the shrubs over growing and eroding statues. The grass could also use some cutting.

“No, can’t say that I have,” He shakes his head.

“Well there’s these weeping angels. They’re pretty much statues and when you blink or when the lights go out, they move. I would have nightmares from them.” You remembered you were at the dorms during your college days and your roommate had introduced you to the show. After watching the weeping angels in particular did she start regretting it, as you woke up in cold sweats. You had dreams of the angels chasing you.

“Well the church has plenty of those,” Hongjoong laughs as you shudder at the thought. The leaves crunched under your shoes, as the weather had gotten colder and it seems the world is dying around you.

“Do they ever move?” You ask jokingly as you link arms with him.

He shrugs, “Yeah.”

You look up at him, scoffing, “Oh really?”

He smirks as he nods. “Yeah. There’s one behind you?”

You turn your head to look behind and there was nothing. “Liar,” You huff and Hongjoong came to a sudden stop. Confused, you turned your head back to face the front to question why he stopped.

“No I’m not,” He says as you come face to face with the stone cold statue that looks at you with empty eyes.

“You are so mean!” You raise your voice but you weren’t offended by the harmless joke.

“Michael just wanted to say hi.”

“Well I’m saying goodbye,” You roll your eyes as you walk ahead of him.

He laughs as he watches you slowly walk off, eyes glazing over your figure and the way you kick some rocks while muttering under your breath. His gaze wanders back up and stops at your waist, or at least the middle of your spine much closer to your tailbone. “Hey, you’re bleeding.”

You wave him off, “Not falling for it.”

“No, I'm serious. You’re bleeding.”

“I would feel if I were bleeding,” You turn to him, brows furrowed.

“I could take a picture to show you,” He offers.

You sigh and hand him your phone. He leans down and pulls your shirt up by an inch. “Oh shit!” He gasps, making you panic.

“What. What. What happened?” You ask, trying to look at your back for yourself.

“Let me just,” He snaps the picture then turns the phone screen to you.

“Oh fuck,” You whisper as you zoomed into the picture. It’s slightly still bloody, however you can easily make out swollen red marks that form into an unknown symbol. It’s almost as if you’ve been branded. “Hongjoong, this seems demonic. I’m too hot to be possessed. . .” You whimper, eyes brimming with tears. “My gorgeous face would be ruined by a demon!” Wails come from you as you can already imagine that one girl from The Exorcist. In all horror movies, the host always becomes ugly after possession. “Like I wanted to die but not like this! Even if I’m on my deathbed, I have to remain gorgeous!”

“Y/N, I fear you have questionable priorities, however I can recommend some things since we’re not sure if you’re truly possessed,” Hongjoong says, rather too calmly.

“How do you know?” She grabs onto his shirt and shakes him. “How are you so sure?” She looks deep into his eyes.

Hongjoong rolls his eyes and pulls out a rosary. “What do you feel when you look at this?”

“Trauma. Those times when my parents would force me to recite the rosary ten times,” You shudder. “Wait- does that mean I’m possessed?” You gasp dramatically.”

“Do you feel violent? Like you’re going to hurt me. Or perhaps do you feel physical pain?” He asks.

You scoff, “What? No! Of course not.”

“Then you’re not possessed,” He flicks your forehead earning a grunt from you as you rub the spot.

“But how do you know?” She insists.

“Because as a former exorcist, I know that most demons would immediately react to anything holy, and the fact you’re standing in front of the church shows that you’re not possessed. There is a rare case where a demon doesn’t react at all, meaning the demon is very strong, but there are still some symptoms unless the demon fully takes control of the body,” He explains.

“Oh, okay,” You sigh in relief. “I’m good.”

“But it could also mean that you’re a target of a demon.”

“We’ll get rid of it! How do I get rid of it!” You cry.

Hongjoong couldn’t help but laugh at how dramatic you are. “Sleep with a crucifix in your room, pray at night, and go to confession and apologize for the lack of faith,” He instructs.

“Is that 100% foolproof?” You ask.

“No.”

“Damn,” You huff.

Suddenly, a loud high pitched scream causes you both to freeze and look at each other in panic. Collectively, you both decide to run to where the screams came from. Once Hongjoong pushes the heavy wooden doors open, he looks around and sees that the deacon has already arrived at the scene.

“Seonghwa, what happened?” Hongjoong asks as his gaze falls on the nun, Sister Anna, who’s crying next to the man. Before them is another nun who remains unmoving.

“I’m afraid the killer has gotten into the parish, Father,” Seonghwa says calmly.

Hongjoong walks up to them with you following close behind. The closer you got the more you were able to make out the scene. “Oh my God,” you gasp, earning a look from Seonghwa for using God’s name in vain.

The nun on the pew sits stiff, her hands tied together with a rosary. She looks at the huge cross above the altar however her eyes are deep pits of emptiness. She’ll never see God. The killer scooped out her eyes. Was she praying while getting killed? How did she get killed in the first place? Not a single gunshot or stab wound. Her body is just there, praying.

“I’ll prepare the funeral right away,” Seonghwa says with a lack of emotion, taking the body as if it was nothing.

“Shouldn’t we leave the body so that the police can investigate?” You ask.

“And ruin the peace of the church? Giving a proper funeral for Sister Mary is what she would have wanted,” Seonghwa says sternly, to which you don’t understand. Someone died. Why is he being so calm about this?

“Look, Y/N,” Hongjoong turns to you. “I think you should go home. I don’t think you should see any more of this.”

“But-“ You start but the look in his eyes, the look that says, ‘question and you’ll see the consequences,’ forces you to shut up and turn away from. “Yeah, I’ll see you,” You force out before walking down the long isle till you get to the huge set of wooden doors.

You have decided to cut through the woods, realizing that it’s a very quick shortcut to your house. As always, you pass by the huge oak tree. Maybe this is the reason the town is called Oakheart.

“You bear the mark of lust,” A woman sneers.

Your head spins to the voice. It’s the woman from before. This time, she wears a black thin veil over her head.

“That. How did you-“ You are flabbergasted. You recalled your dream. You can’t run from the mark of lust. “Who are you?”

At the corner of her lips curve into a smirk. She transforms in a blink of an eye. The once wrinkled skin becomes tight and youthful, although there’s still age. She looks very mature. Her eyes are sharp and her blue eyes are piercing cold. Her once pruned lips are pulled tight, the color dark red like wine, or even blood.

“What the fuck!” You scream as you back away. “The woman. The old lady. The grandma! How? What,” You stutter, trying to make sense of everything. You’re not high or drunk so this must be real, right? You pinch your skin to make sure.

You could care less for an explanation at this point as you run off. First you witnessed a murder. Now you’re seeing things. It’s best if you just go home.

“You can’t run, child! You’re a beacon! They’ll find you!” The woman calls from behind you.

You keep running and running until you make it to your street. You’re never going through the forest ever again. You don’t even look back, nor look at where you are going so it’s no surprise when you collide with someone.

“Are you okay?” The man asks, though the kindness is unexpected. In New York, you know you’d get many nasty remarks.

“I’m so sorry- Wooyoung!?” You gasp, recognizing the face of an old friend.

“Y/N? I haven’t seen you in so long!” Wooyoung’s face lights up, erasing all the negative feelings you harbored. Finally someone familiar.

He’s what you can describe as the typical shy church boy, always hiding behind his glasses. He has a soft spoken voice to him, which to be honest does not match his face nor his smile that naturally looks mischievous. He looks like he’s scheming when it’s the complete opposite. He’s a sweet guy.

“Just visiting. Rough times,” You chuckle awkwardly.

“I’m somewhat saddened that you never even visited me,” He frowns.

“I’m sorry Woo, it’s just so many things going on. I see you still got your typical outfit going on here,” You lightly tease, hoping to change the topic and lighten up the mood. “It’s really about time you get rid of those flannels.”

He always wears his typical flannel shirt, buttoned all the way to the top and khaki pants. He dresses like a dad. And of course he always sports his black thick-rimmed glasses. You always say he has the face of a model but he never cares, always telling you , “It matters not the clothing or richness you have. God judges all equally.”

“So how’s it been? Are you working or anything?” You ask curiously.

“I’ve actually taken a job as a history teacher in Oakheart High School,” He chuckles.

“Oh really? Any interesting history?” You ask, knowing that history class back in your high school days was a bore.

“You’d be surprised. You can call me this town's historian, well unofficially anyways,” He shrugs with a chuckle. “How about you?”

“Neurosurgeon. So where are you off to?” You ask.

“Home. You should, too. Y’know it’s very dangerous for us to be out and about with the murders.”

“Yeah, I just witnessed a murder in the church,” You shrug nonchalantly, earning a gasp from him and he quickly covers your mouth.

“Don’t say that out loud. It will cause panic to everyone. Whatever you saw, keep it to yourself. I’ll pretend like I never heard what you said,” He warns you, urgency clear in his eyes, darting about to make sure no one heard. “Now I’ll be going home. You have a nice day okay,” He smiles, taking his hand off your face and walks back.

“Bye Woo.”

This town doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense.

—————————————————————

“They found the murderer! Come on! We have to go!” Your father screams, waking up the whole house. He rushes you and your mom out the door as quickly as possible.

“Where are we going?” You ask.

“Church,” Your father says, adding nothing more. You all got in the car and drove 10 minutes. You know cutting through the forest is faster.

When you all arrive, the parking lot is filled, having to park on the side of the road instead. It seems the whole town is there.

“What’s going on?” You ask once more, getting more confused by the second when you see people heading into the woods.

“Just don’t ask and follow us,” Your father responds gruffly.

You said you’ll never go back to the woods but here you are amongst a whole group of people. “Woo!” You whisper, weaving your way to stand next to him. “What’s going on?”

“The murderer, they found the murderer and she was found to be a witch,” Wooyoung shortly explains, eyes focused ahead as he clutches the rosary beads in his hand. “God is gracious,” He kisses the beads.

“Oakheart used to be a coven of witches, that is until the Evangelist came and forced us to turn to their God. Others who refused were burned here,” You remember the words of the old woman. Here you are, standing before the large oak tree once more, anticipating the events that would unfold, and it doesn’t seem good.

Hush murmurs drowned the silence of the woods. It seems everyone knows what’s happening but you. You don’t know what to expect.

“Brothers and sisters,” The familiar voice of Hongjoong quickly hushes the crowd. The deacon, Seonghwa, stood next to him. “It is thanks to our devoted loyalty and prayers to God that we have found the demon causing havoc to our town. A witch.”

“I didn’t do it! I didn’t do it!” Screams echo through the quiet forest as the nuns drag a woman to Hongjoong.

Your hand shakily covers your mouth, recognizing the old woman. There’s no way. A fragile woman like her? But the way she transformed before your eyes. Maybe she did do it. She seems to be staring at you now. You know I didn’t do it.

You don’t get it. If she’s the murderer, why is she here instead of in jail? What are the police doing? What is Hongjoong doing?

“Now we won’t be burning any witches but we know what to do with them,” Hongjoong smiles. He then turns to the nuns who dragged the woman to a platform and only did you notice that there’s a rope tied to a strong branch on the tree.

“There’s no way,” You whisper.

“It’s what happens to witches,” Wooyoung assures you. “History says so.”

Hongjoong puts the noose around the woman’s neck then steps back. “Brothers and sisters, we should not place mistrust in each other, but this is an example of what happens to the worshippers of the devil. With a nod, Seonghwa drops the platform, causing the woman to drop with it, the noose causing her to lose circulation and ultimately killing her. Hongjoong is turned away from you but from where you are, you can make out a smirk.

“What the fuck,” You manage to get out as you back away from the crowd. Everything happened so quickly. One moment she was screaming, the next second she’s limp. You want to puke. You might puke.

“Where are you going?” Wooyoung asks.

“Out!” You scream, causing a commotion. You run away from the group of people, Wooyoung calling out your name and your parents running after you.

You weren’t going to wait for a bus. You immediately call for an Uber as you pack your bags.

“Where are you going? You can’t just leave,” You’re mother yells.

“Well I can and I will. I am an adult!” You look out the window to see your Uber waiting for you. You push past your mother. You don’t even make eye contact with your dad.

Hongjoong killed someone. In fact, he was smiling. You can’t be mistaken.

“I’m not coming back. Not even if you force me,” You put your bag over the shoulder. You walk out the house, not even glancing back as you enter the car.

“No you are not leaving!” Your mom cries, forcing the car door open.

“Let go!” You yell, pushing her, causing her to stumble.

“Theresa!” Your dad calls you by your catholic name, as if a strong boisterous voice would scare you. You close the door and tell the driver to just go. You weren’t going to come back. There’s a reason you go by your middle name rather than your first. Maybe you should have changed your name to Lucy out of spite. They always believe Lucy is just a shortened version of Lucifer. Or maybe Lilith? That would rile them up. It doesn’t matter anymore. And fuck Hongjoong.

—————————————————————

Jung Wooyoung drives home in the dark rainy night, singing to whatever song is on the radio. Suddenly, he sees a person on the road in front of his car which forced him to swerve so suddenly. He looks back in shock then undoes his seatbelt before getting out of the car to check on the person he saw.

“Hello?” He calls out into the dark road, as nobody had invested in more lights. No answer and so he keeps on walking to the direction of where he saw the person.

“Help me! Please!” A man begs from behind him. He turns slowly to look at him.

“Oh my god,” He whispers to himself, looking at the dirty disheveled guy. So he finds himself driving the young man in the back of his car to his house. “Oh poor thing,” He shakes his head. “My house is just at the end of this road. We’ll get you all cleaned up. Tomorrow I’ll call a doctor to get you all checked.”

Wooyoung is quick to give the man the best hospitality he can offer. “I brewed you some tea. I would have gotten coffee if it wasn’t night already,” Wooyoung smiles at the young man who had finally gotten all cleaned up. The man slowly approaches him. “I also found some cookies. What’s your name? Can you tell me what happened to you?” He asks. He’s far too kind, inviting a stranger into his home, offering them refreshments without knowing anything about them. “Did someone attack you?”

The man shakes his head and sits in front of him. “No. The woods did.”

Wooyoung bites his lip for a second before his lips form a smile, sitting down as well. “Wow, well you’re not from around here, aren't you?” He chuckles. “You know, everyone knows about the witch hunt in Salem, but many people don’t know that there was one, right here in Oakheart. 1692. Well maybe the lucky few who escaped. It’s no surprise the spirits of the woods are mad. There was a hanging today.” He starts talking about the eerie history of the town. “Back then, thirteen witches were hanged in the forest,” He tells the man, explaining why he believed him so easily, being one to be a huge believer of superstitions. The superstitions are the reason he becomes even more a devout Christian, not wanting to awaken any angry spirits.

“How do you know so much,” The man asks, “about witches?”

Wooyoung smiles, “Well, I may be the unofficial historian of Oakheart. Plus, I teach at the high school. Oakheart High School. The town is actually named Oakheart because the tree the witches were hanged was an oak-”

“Do you know Y/N?”

“Yes actually! She’s my friend,” He says, taken aback. “Do you know her?”

“Not yet,” The man answered in a distorted voice which made Wooyoung stand up in fear. “But hell will be much livelier with her.” The man raises his arm up, sending a silver sheer to stab Wooyoung’s neck. He looks at the stranger in shock before collapsing to the floor.

The man approaches his body, touching his fresh warm blood while chanting in latin. The stranger transforms into the image of the man, smirking to himself. “Asmodeus, you owe me. I’m not one to play matchmaker.”

[its-time-to-write]

chapter 4

table of contents

we know the steps anyway

Jamie might have stretched the truth. He has an appointment, yes, but not a medical one, like. There’s enough doctors and shit on staff at Richmond. But no one there has fucking critical thinking or whatever, so he’s able to go early. He goes to the shops and doesn’t pray he remembers what you like, instead he prays that it hasn’t changed.

He gets recognized but he hopes the flowers in his hand don’t signal anything to the fans. If anyone asks he can just say they’re for his mum or something, it’s not totally fucking unrealistic, but his lying’s gotten progressively worse recently. Probably because he’s out of practice, but he doesn’t actually want to get back in practice, if you know what he means.

He also prays that your address is the same. You loved that house and he’d be surprised if you moved but it’s almost a year since he last saw you and much longer than that since you were actually together.

Maybe he should have become Catholic so he could say a proper Hail Mary. But he isn’t one, so instead he just hopes harder than he has in a while and knocks on the door. The doorbell’s taped off with a note that says, baby sleeping so he thinks he probably has the right house after all 

He hears footsteps, has the quickest panic attack known to man, then the door opens to reveal you.

Jamie has never wanted to make a baby more than this moment, if he’s being honest. He can tell you’re in the middle of work but the way it takes a split second too long to figure out what’s happening and the pen behind your ear. You look the same, but assured and he knows it’s because you don’t need him. He wants to unbutton your shirt and also tell you that he loves you more than he’s ever loved anyone in his whole entire life and he knows he’s a fucking idiot but his thoughts have never been good at finding their way to his mouth so instead he just says, “Hey,” and pulls the flowers from behind his back.

Jamie doesn’t miss the way your eyes widen in what he can only construe as fear at the sight of him. It subsides into wariness when he hands you the flowers, but he doesn’t like that the fear was there in the first place. He understands you want to be cautious, but fear?

That’s not good at all.

So he telegraphs all his movements as best he can. Shoulders down, hands at his sides and unclenched. He takes half a step back but asks, “Can we talk?” and watches you play a million outcomes in your head at once.

You don’t want to let him in, but Clare’s asleep in the living room. And the flowers are an indicator that he’s here for some positive reason so you step aside and say, “You can come to the kitchen.”

Jamie knows he’s on thin ice so he barely looks any other direction than straight to where you direct him. He doesn’t sit. He stands in the middle of the kitchen and awkwardly holds the flowers before you take them from him and set them on the counter. He opens his mouth to say something (he’s not quite sure what yet) and is saved by the baby crying in the other room. 

The baby. 

You sigh and go to get her and he scans the room as best he can for any indicator as to her name. He doesn’t see anything but photos stuck to the fridge. You come back into the room before he can move to look closer. 

“Her name’s Clare,” you say offhandedly. “You’re not on the birth certificate. You’ve always said you didn’t want to have kids, and I’m pretty fucking sure you wouldn’t want them with me. And-” you pause. Clare’s awake and staring right at your face. She really does look like Jamie.

“And,” you continue, “I didn’t really want you to come back just to fuck off again. Clare doesn’t deserve that. And you’ve been acting like a right fucking idiot all over national television, so.”

Jamie nods. “Makes sense.” 

You wait for him to say something else but he doesn’t, just looks so uncharacteristically lost that you sigh.

“You’re not here about custody, are you,” you. Jamie’s eyes widen.

“Fuckin’ hell, that’s what you thought this was about? I’m not- I wouldn’t- I’ve been to going therapy.”

You raise an eyebrow. That’s new. Maybe that’s what fucking Keeley Jones meant about decent. But he’s not getting off so fucking easy, if at all. 

“So what, you go to therapy a couple times and now you’re fixed? And you want a family? Or to apologize? You haven’t made it entirely clear why you’re here.”

Jamie says, “I’m here because I miss you,” and you scoff. 

“No- shit, I mean- I’ve missed you for a long fucking time but my texts weren’t going through, so I figured you blocked me. And Madeline is fucking terrifying, babe. But I was looking for you the other night because I wanted to apologize. And see if you wanted to get back together,” he says, and you’re not entirely sure how to react.

“Right,” you say, “well, that’s not fucking happening. You dumped me after a year, called me a two in the morning five months later, so yes, I blocked you. And you should be fucking scared of Madeline because I had to forcibly restrain her from ruining your goddamn life despite the fact that I actually wanted her to go completely apeshit. I have more important things than some twenty-six year old footballer who’s only just now getting his life together when I’ve had it together since I was eight. I have a job and a baby, and I’m handling both in the house that I’ve owned since I was twenty-two because like I said before, Jamie Tartt, I’ve had my life together since I was fucking eight years old. I had the same damn childhood as you and yet I’m not the one who has only recently learned what the fuck empathy is.”

Your rant upsets Clare, who begins crying. “Shit,” you sigh. “I’m sorry, Bean. You hungry?” You glance at Jamie. “I’m going to sit on the couch.”

“Right. Yeah,” says Jamie as he follows you to the next room. He sits gingerly on the couch across from you and you sigh again. He’s relatively harmless, and you’re well-versed in what he looks like when he’s up to no good. You pat the spot next to you and he sits, still carefully, while you adjust Clare. It isn’t until you sit down that you realize how fucking tired you are.

“She’s so fucking small,” Jamie whispers. “How the fuck do you ever get anything done? I’d just be looking at her.”

You laugh, but it’s short and brittle. “Things need to get done Jamie. She’s hungry, she needs to be changed, I have work to do and I’ve got to eat, but I’m sick of ordering in so I try to meal prep as much as I can but I don’t ever sleep and I’m afraid of burning the house down, so most of the time I eat frozen dinners at four a.m. because she’s awake.” Jamie doesn’t say anything, just listens. He’s inched closer or maybe you have or maybe both, because your thighs are touching and it sends the same shivers up your leg that it did two years ago. “I’m tired all the time,” you whisper. “It’s like my bones are tired. I think Madeline’s the only one who has any idea what it’s like and she can only help so much. Besides, she’s it’s her last night in fucking Milan and I’m not about to be that mum friend who’s constantly making everything about her baby. It’s just so much work, Jamie. You have no idea.”

You shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t but Madeline isn’t here and what she doesn’t know won’t kill her, so you rest your head on Jamie’s shoulder.

He freezes for a moment before tilting his face to touch the top of your head.

And you’re furious. It should have been like this before and as soon as it’s over your going to wish that it were like this more often. It’s a fantasy.

But you’ll indulge a little while longer before seriously considering moving somewhere else. Probably Chelsea if you’re being honest; it’s not too far away but it’ll give you the space you need to remind yourself that Jamie isn’t for you. He’s for someone else, someone like Keeley.

And anyway as soon as you want to let Madeline find you a man, you know you’ll have no shortage of options.

It’s not about that, though. It’s about the fact that you’ve been on your backup plan ever since Jamie left and you’d give anything to feel like you’re in control again.

Jamie murmurs, “I want to help,” and you shake your head slightly. 

“Don’t need money, my darling. I need someone to change her diaper at one in the morning.”

“That’s what I mean,” Jamie says and you chuckle.

“And when do you have time for that?” you ask. “Don’t you footballers have a strict sleep schedule? And you’d have to be here in the guest room because there’s no way I’m taking Clare to yours.”

Jamie shrugs and you sit up. “Don’t take this the wrong way love, but plenty of footballers ignore their sleep plan to fuck around. It’s got to be healthier and shit to take care of a kid, yeah?”

“No,” you say. “You can’t just show up and slip back into my life like that. I haven’t talked to you in almost a year and now you’re here on my couch, which is fine, but you can’t just come all the way back.”

Jamie frowns. “So what do I have to do?”

You shake your head. “That’s something for you to figure out without me.”

—

Jamie replays the whole thing from the time he gets back into his car to go home to the time he falls asleep. And then starts again when he wakes up and heads to the Dogtrack. The only person who looks at him twice is Higgins, although that may be more to Jamie’s choice of lime green sweatpants than his mental state.

He can’t get Clare’s face out of his head. He can’t get the feeling of your body on the couch next to him out of his system.

He wasn’t sure what he wanted when he returned to Richmond, he just knew he wanted something different. Maybe this is it.  

He’s so wrapped up in his thoughts that he knocks completely into Roy on his way to get his lunch.

“Fucking watch where you’re fucking going,” Roy grunts but Jamie barely acknowledges him.  

And that’s how Roy knows something is wrong because the little shit is never one to back down from an argument. But he’s Roy fucking Kent and the last thing he’s going to do is ask Tartt about his fucking feelings so he just walks away and forgets about it.

In hindsight, he thinks it probably would have provided some fucking context to what he’s seeing in front of him. 

A very apologetic Keeley Jones hangs on his arm while he watches some short brunette march into the locker room as if she owns it, grab Jamie by the ear, and start swearing at him.

No one seems to know what to do, probably in too much shock to stop Madeline from dragging Jamie (still by his ear) out of the room and presumably to the car park. 

Roy catches Beard’s eye, entirely by accident, who shrugs. Ted claps his hands and says something to the effect of, “Everyone’s made poor decisions when it comes to women, Sam go check on Jamie,” before following Roy and Beard to the coaches’ office. As soon as the door is firmly shut, Ted says, “What in the Sam Hill was that? I know Jamie’s ruffled a few feathers in his time, but I’ve never seen anything like that before, no sir.”

Everyone looks expectantly at Keeley. After all, she was the one chasing Madeline’s heels as she shouted, “God DAMN it Tartt, I’m going to fucking kill you!!” down the hall.

“Well you see,” Keeley begins, voice mousy, “I was in Milan where I met Madeline. We were chatting and we both found out we knew Jamie. And she’s friends with this girl who lives here in Richmond, and it turns out she and Jamie dated right before he was with me. I don’t know what he did but he did something awful while we were away because she got a text, said, “Fucking Tartt,” and then stepped out to take a phone call. She came straight here from the airport; I think her taxi’s still outside, actually.” She lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I’m just surprised Jamie’s fucked something up again. He’s been doing so well recently.”

“Jamie has a kid,” Beard says like he can’t hold it in any more. He’s met with shocked silence until Ted says, “Well I’ll be. Jamie Tartt’s got a little tartlet,” and then everyone’s talking at once. Mainly, how does Beard know and what does that have to do with his arse getting hauled to the car park?

Ted’s just thankful this debacle happened at the end of the day, because the team can’t afford to miss any training with the Aston Villa game coming up. There’s a knock on the door, and Ted opens it to reveal Sam. 

“Jamie is going home with that angry young woman,” he says. 

Ted asks, “Should we be concerned?” and Sam shrugs. 

“He did not seem as though he needed rescuing,” he replies, and that makes sense. From what anyone could tell, it almost seemed as though Jamie felt like he deserved whatever Madeline was saying to him. As if he expected it. But no one has any more answers so they all just sort of disperse to their various homes. 

Keeley though, Keeley is so fucking curious she thinks she might explode. So as soon as she’s at Roy’s and seated on his sofa she opens her laptop and scrolls through Madeline’s entire fucking instagram to look for clues. It’s hard, what with all the brand deals and photo dumps, but Keeley’s a professional. She has a list of girls who occur in multiple photos throughout the years, checks off their socials, but comes up empty. 

Well, almost empty.

Half of Madeline’s friends are private, so those are Keeley’s top suspects, but there’s one friend whose photos switch from being full length to shoulders-up only about nine months ago. And there’s a selfie of Madeline in a hospital bed with this same friend buried in a photo dump from two and a half months ago with the caption, “she lived, bitch.” It’s focused on their faces and nothing else, but Keeley’s one hundred percent positive this is the girl.

Keeley spends the rest of the night on her computer scouring the internet for as much as she can possibly learn while Roy makes her tea and reads next to her.

next chapter

[that1fangirrl]

Dating a Ballet Dancer...

Cw: some 18+,food mentions

A/N: This was honestly so adorable to me. I think I might write so more for it later on. If you have any ideas for this or other concepts, my inbox is always open. Enjoy!

He does not understand why ballerinas wear so many layers to practice. Especially because they are mostly thin and mesh garments, but with leg warmers

Yoga and stretch “dates”

Forcing her to eat more food so she can build up strength… or at least him sneaking a few snacks in her bag before she leaves for practice

Helping her stay in shape and healthy always

Something tells me he’d be curious to try a move… maybe stick to plié or tendu. Just like small footwork. Nothing extreme

He probably helps her with choreography. His enhanced senses pick up on slight changes so i definitely see him being like “oh that pirouette wasn’t as strong” or “your elbows aren’t tucked in right”

He doesn’t seem like a nervous person, but knowing with any sport you can get hurt has him on edge all the time. “What if you don’t land right and break an ankle?”

But he’s fairly confident in his babygirl… she's a professional after all

He's a huge stickler when it comes to her health. I know I said it before, but he's constantly watching what she eats, how much sleep and rest she gets. Cause he knows what the body needs to feel good and function better

Maybe it even motivates him to be better about his own health

It doesn’t help that they’re in college which always somehow means snacks over real food

If practice goes longer into the night, he’ll wait in the building or in the studio, so they can walk back to his or her dorm

Classical music is a must for them both. Just picture it. Him sitting on the bed studying with the music softly in the background while his adorable lover mimics the movements in her head along to the music. He would have the cutest little soft smile on his face(y'know the one)

When it’s tech/rehearsal week and he's not allowed to be around, it’s the worst. He’s only allowed to sit on one of the benches outside of the theater/auditorium. He can hear her jagged breathing, the nerves bounces off the walls, the constant frustration running through her veins. It makes him super antsy that he can’t barge in and console his sweet angel. 

But after each night of rehearsing, he makes sure Foggy isn’t at their dorm, so he can give her a well deserved night of comfort. Whether that be a nice massage, cuddling with an audiobook or some music, or everyone’s favorite… sex!!

Speaking of sex… he’s 100% her first. He’s so sweet and gentle. Constantly asking if she’s okay, if she wants to try something else, etc. It’s always a good time. Vanilla, but who cares? They're only in college.

Back to our charmer, he might’ve flirted with the dance instructor a little so he could be allowed into the dance studio after hours or during sessions. She’s an older lady, so of course she’s gonna love that little catholic boy who’s “too much”.

Now when the tickets for each show goes on sale, he is the first and i repeat THE FIRST to get a ticket. He’s up bright and early waiting for the doors to open so he can get one and be prepared for the night. 

During the day, he tries his best to keep her head up. Makes her stand in front of a mirror and say only positive things to herself. Even texts in the middle of his day, that she's gonna kill it. 

He even has Foggy tag along. Has him help pick out flowers and a cute card. Maybe even some cute jewelry, like a little dainty bracelet that has a ballet charm on it. Foggy doesn’t mind though, he’s their number 1 supporter. 

At the end of the show, he finds her backstage crying. Something about how she messed up on her turns and everyone noticed. To which he assures her with the biggest and tightest hug. “The crowd loved you Angel. They were absolutely breathless and amazed. If you did mess up, they didn’t even notice because your beauty hypnotized them too much.” Ending it with a billion kisses all over the face and on her forehead. 

She kept those flowers by the way. Dried them out and has them in a special area of their apartment. Probably in some cute little keepsake box. 

 After all these years, they’re still together. Graduated from school. Successful lawyer and Ballet Dancer of Hell’s Kitchen.

He still goes to all of her shows. Brings Foggy and Karen. Has a cute new bouquet of flowers each time. 

One night, he brings a ring. And after the show, they go for a small walk in the park nearby and he gets on one knee and proposes to her. The rest from there is history.

[release-the-sheep]

alright, I've wrestled the amorphous blob of my many thoughts about Constance Isles—not the amorphous blob of Chthonstance Isles, that would have to be another post—into some semblance of legibility ( @domini-porter come get your juice)

what's most interesting to me, at least right now, is looking at Jane and Constance as foils for one another, specifically in re: Maura.

what we've got is one idiot who loves Maura so much but has decided she mustn't show it, and one who doesn't know how to love her even though she should, and maybe wants to. one who can't help but love Maura and one who appears to take for granted that she gets to. and they both resent each other because of it. Jane resents Constance because she can't imagine anyone not knowing how to love Maura, not wanting to show her love, not treating her the way she deserves to be treated, always. and Constance resents Jane and Maura's easy intimacy and the fact that Jane knows Maura better than she does, though that's her own fault and she also knows that.

they also hate themselves, of course (Constance knows she was not the best mother she perhaps could've been, or at least not the one Maura needed. Jane thinks certain things she's done and certain mistakes she's made mean she's bad and that she deserves for bad things to happen to her, and for good things not to. this is also Catholic and probably at the centre of my thoughts on Jane being raised Catholic but that's another post). the other brings that self-hatred into sharper focus for each of them. Jane gets closeness without apparently trying, which is infuriating to Constance who never got it (though as far as we know she didn't particularly try either. why does it get to work for Jane but not her?). Constance has a right to Maura in all the real, official ways but nothing in their relationship to show for it, which is infuriating to Jane, who has a very deep and real connection with Maura but not one that means anything in particular on paper. Both of them have the ability to change these things and don't. Constance I think is more self-aware in what she's missing than Jane is, and possibly I'm stretching the parallel a bit far suggesting Jane would value a legal right to Maura in and of itself; but she sure would value it practically. If Maura were incapacitated and someone had to make a decision on her behalf (ignoring for a moment any legal provisions Maura might have set up for the very reason the Maura is the one who set them up and I'm talking about Jane), you bet your bottom dollar Jane would be seething if it couldn't be her making that decision, legally. She knows she can't say it aloud, but she would be.

and then of course there's the class stuff. Constance (and Maura) and Jane are socio-economically extremely distant from one another, and that's always yummy in character interactions. they have Thoughts about each other right away that are independent of what they know about one another from Maura. they have prejudices and biases and us vs. them shit that gets their backs up and colours their exchanges very conspicuously. and they both act very similarly about it, in the few canon moments we have to analyze on the subject. they're both proud and they're both defensive and they're both insecure. but from opposite sides.

the scene where Constance shows up to the dirty robber is so delicious to me for Jane's brash blue collar-ness and how unprepared Constance is for it and how Maura is with both of them: loving. they're both posturing for Maura in a way in that scene. Constance is trying to act like she can enjoy the things Maura apparently enjoys (only with Jane but never mind that), and Jane is trying to make Constance uncomfortable because it's one small way she can try to make Constance pay for not being who Maura needs/needed her to be. and because she gets a kick out of it herself, definitely.

Jane is in her element, on her own territory—she's won. as regards Maura, in that moment at least, it seems apparent that Jane has won. Maura is there of her own free will, with Jane and with Jane's mother, and Jane has won. and Constance and Jane both know it, and Constance is trying to get on the winning side, and Jane is rubbing it in. it's about Maura herself of course, entirely directly, but it's also about Maura indirectly and in these complex, class-informed, potentially subconscious ways.

god bless Jacqueline Bisset, man. good shit.

[dr-chosenberg]

On my recent rewatch I felt the inspiration to design my headcanon for what Dr. Potterswheel's late wife might have looked like! Born Marie-Thérèse Praxineaux, her maiden name is based off of the Praxinoscope which is an animation device that came after the Zoetrope

Voice: https://youtu.be/2MaiJtecGmI?si=H6h5nLCUQsk9039K

CW: Dr Potterswheel's gore fetish, infection, death, miscarriage,

She moved to Moralton because you know The War and was shunned because of the rumors around town of her being a foreigner and France being a place of sin and lust. The librarian there gave her a job because she assumed no moralton man was going to be interested because of her reputation and took pity on her. Oh another reason the moraltons hate her lol, France is a majority Catholic country. Marie was part of the minority there that was Protestant but obviously the Moraltons didn’t care.

In comes a young Quentin.

He was studying for his medical school exams and often came in, staying the often inaccurate statesotan medical books for long hours. Sometimes when it was just the librarian and the two of them she would avoid him at all costs, not wanting to further her reputation.

He was aware of Marie-Therese, she was pretty and always helpful when she knew where to find a book he needed.

One day some kind of accident happened, not serious enough that she was in any real danger but enough that she needed medical assistance. Maybe a bookcase fell on her and she needed some stitches?

M-T was not one to speak up or make a fuss, but Quentin had a handsome deep voice and spoke with so much authority. He did his best to reassure her she would be ok and in a sense it coaxed the words right out of her. She had a way with words and could describe her pain like she was painting a picture, I like to think she enjoyed writing poetry, but you and I both know that’s not why it attracted him so intensely.

Despite the town doing its best to shun her she still attended church every Sunday and every Sunday Quentin would inquire about her wounds progress and ask to see it. One day a few weeks after her wound had healed they were conversing and Marie-Therese joked sadly that they could no longer be seen together as she didn’t have the excuse of being his practice patent.

At which point Quentin proposed. It wasn’t the most romantic affair to most, he said it matter of factly as he does most things. But that was ok, she would have the bedside manner and the way with words for them both.

Their relationship itself….well they had a foot up on many Moralton couples as they were truly in love. Many would consider Marie a fool as he was not the most romantic man. He was soft when she would fuss or worry (think about the way he spoke to Bloberta when she said her wound was bad) but when she really took issue with something he wouldn’t get more emotional, but even less, she found herself at times disheartened at the way he would dismiss her worries and talk down to her. She insisted to her newfound housewife friends that they just didn’t know him like she did, which was *sort* of true.

She honestly didn’t mind his “preferences” she assumed that taking charge was what a husband was meant to do in the bedroom, and that a “little” pain was just what a good Christian woman had to put up with after a life of chastity. When she had other wounds and he would take a bit too much of a vested interest she thought it was just his way of showing he cared. She never understood why he would discourage what he called “unnecessary” medications like, allergy meds, antacids, etc. always feeding her a line about the lord helping those who help themselves.

She tried her best to become more like the other wives of Moralton, she even took up sewing and embroidery. She made a comment once about how she was just like him, sewing up patients. He stroked her head and smiled, “How cute. You’d worry yourself sick if anything important was counting on your little stick ‘n’ pokes.”

Things got better when they got the wonderful news that Marie was pregnant. Her pregnancy was very rough, unlike anything Quentin had ever seen. He would comfort her by telling her of the many strong mothers he had seen in his career so far, if she couldn’t handle the pain of the pregnancy how could she handle the birth? The smile he would give her when she would nod in agreement was all the soothing she needed.

She was nearing the worst of it when she used the last of her energy to embroider a handkerchief for him, with his initials on it. Sometimes he would use it to clean her face when she would cough up one thing or another, or wet it to soothe her forehead.

Of course she wasn’t *just* facing pregnancy complications, she had caught a whole other sickness entirely, an infection. The days went by and Quentin got more desperate. Out of love for his wife? Out of a need to prove his abilities as a doctor? Who knows. He would never admit fault for anything let alone a patient, he sure as hell wasn’t going to take the blame for losing the woman he cares for. He tried everything, except actual medical science.

Finally he relented and began to give her painkillers. I believe it would be more in character if he didn’t tell her. Visitors from the town and a young Reverend Putty suspected it but she was none the wiser. She used to say things like, “Ma moitié having you pray for me and care for me is so healing, I am feeling better already.”

When she could form full coherent sentences.

With the way medicine was at the time while some painkillers are safe for pregnant women these probably weren’t, but they weren’t what took her. It got to the point that she wasn’t herself anymore but spent her days lying in bed in a haze, barely awake.

She swore sometimes that she could see Quentin there at her side, watching her, even feel him stroke her hand. But when she got her eyes to focus he wasn’t there anymore.

One day Quentin went in for a morning check up and the sheets were covered in blood. He had lost his wife and his child in one fell swoop.

It was a horrific scene but she looked so serene. So comfortable. She was clutching his handkerchief.

Notes:

This takes place with the assumption that Moralton is not modern day, I headcanon Quentin to be around 50

This was fun, nothing is set in stone truly as this was part of a stream of consciousness conversation with my friend @cheonsa-n I’m fully up for criticism if anything seems out of character. I’m also happy to explain the reasoning behind certain choices!

I don’t personally buy the idea that Quentin killed his wife on purpose, a man with Quentin’s disposition who actually committed a murder wouldn’t resort to almost stabbing the man who accused him of it, that’s how you get people to think you killed your wife on purpose lol.

I hope you guys enjoy what I came up with. Their relationship isn’t fully this way as he was attracted to her and subjected her to some of the same treatment we saw Bloberta go through, but their marriage in my mind had a bit of a Madonna-whore complex flavoring to it. I also believe this is somewhat of an origin story for his habit of treating everything with almost exclusively painkillers. Marie-Thérèse couldn’t be saved but she was, as Quentin puts it, very comfortable when she passed.

In the AU where she lives she still suffered a miscarriage and Clay calls Dr. Potterswheel a babykiller instead. She is still as sweet as the day she and Quentin met but she isn’t particularly keen on giving Orel the time and attention he needs either, it’s too painful. When she does give him advice she tends to advise him to wait things out and not rock the boat. She tells him that good things come to those who wait.

[thegreenleavesofspring]

By the way, when I say that the American church has FAILED, this is what I'm talking about:

The email I sent to Focus on the Family a couple weeks ago, identifying information redacted:

Hello,

My name is [redacted] and I followed a link to one of your website's articles - about Biblical discipline - and saw the massive donation solicitation banner at the top of the website, saying any donations would go to families in need.

My mother is very much in need.

She is 61 and severely disabled, mentally and physically. In 2016 she had a stroke, which type has a 70% death rate and of the remaining 30%, the vast majority never recover any cognitive or physical function. She is a medical outlier in that she recovered both - through odds so astronomical it is a blatant miracle she survived at all - to some degree. But now her cognitive abilities are declining, as well as her mobility and eyesight: she is effectively 100% disabled.

She is also currently undergoing an eviction since she can no longer pay rent. She had planned to move into her car, but earlier this week it had an oil/engine failure that will require about $7,000 of work to repair. Her insurance would pay for it, save that she has a $1,000 deductible she cannot afford.

She gets $914 a month in disability.

I am a single mother of three boys five and under; my husband has walked out on us and does not pay child support and I cannot get any legal division to enforce it. I make $1,000 a month, and also do not own a car or have any sort of transportation. I order her groceries online and try to get small expenses for her when I can, and that is the most aid I am currently able to offer.

Right now she just needs her car repaired. But we do not have $1,000 for that deductible.

We have spent weeks calling every phone number and resource in the area and even the state. The churches send us to the government, the government sends us to the NGOs, the NGOs send us to the churches. No one helps.

Your website claims you help families. I looked under the "get help" tab and found nothing of any use, hence this email.

Will you help my family?

Sincerely,

~~~~

I got this in return:

Dear [Redacted],

Thank you for writing to Focus on the Family. Your willingness to share your concerns means a lot to us, and we want you to know we care about you, your dear mother, and your children. 

Our hearts are heavy after reading about the serious financial problems your disabled mother is facing right now. We’re especially concerned to hear that her car has broken down and she has no place to call home. Though we realize you’ve already asked for assistance from churches and a number of organizations, we recommend you contact the Salvation Army. You can visit their website at: Salvation Army: Housing and Homeless Services. We’d also like to mention three more online sources of information: National Coalition for the Homeless,  2-1-1 Get Help,  Catholic Charities USA. We can’t guarantee that they will be able to provide the help you need, nor can we say with certainty that they consistently uphold Christian values and ethics. Nevertheless, we think it would be worthwhile to find out what services are available. Please note that our mentioning these organizations should not be taken as an endorsement by our ministry.

Be assured we’re praying for the Lord to comfort your mother, provide for her many needs, and lead her to a safe place to live. We’re also asking God to surround you and your three young sons with caring people who will offer their support and help you in practical ways. 

Along with praying for you, we invite you to call the Christian counselors on our staff if you think it might be helpful to discuss your concerns with caring professionals. They might be able to offer additional suggestions and useful referral information. To reach them, please call 1-855-771-HELP (4357) any weekday between 6:00 A.M. and 8:00 P.M. (MT). Someone on our staff will ask for your name and phone number in order to arrange for a counselor to return your call as soon as they’re able. This service is available at no cost to you.

[Redacted], we understand you contacted our ministry because you saw a banner on our website indicating that all donations to our ministry are used to help families in need.  In order to provide clarification, we need to explain that the purpose of our ministry is to respond to the spiritual, emotional, and psychological needs of individuals and families. We do this by praying, providing books and other resources, airing broadcasts that address the serious issues many people face, and offering one free consultation with a professional Christian counselor on our staff. The financial contributions we receive are used to accomplish these objectives.

While it’s true that our ministry has been privileged on occasion to provide financial assistance to those experiencing hardships, our capacity to do this is limited as we are primarily a media ministry. Unfortunately, as much as we would like to, we’re not always able to offer monetary aid to the many individuals and families whose needs are brought to our attention. We’re so sorry to disappoint you.

Thanks again for writing to us, [Redacted]. God bless you and your loved ones, and may He always be the strength of your heart and your refuge.

[Redacted]

Focus on the Family

~~~~

I'll hand it to the Catholics. They do try. But their assistance is focused primarily on Catholics - quite understandable - and within their own parishes - equally understandable.

You might as well ask a brick wall for help as any Protestant church. Actually the brick wall probably at least won't - more or less literally - slam a door in your face.

I know good and well that my mother, my family, is not the only one in such dire straits. There is nowhere to turn - least of all our 'brothers' and 'sisters'.

One of these days the leaders of all these churches - these vastly wealthy mega churches and the haughty local churches and all of them - are going to have to answer to Christ about all the blood on their hands of their own people they left to starve and freeze and die in the streets.

(I'd bet good money - if I had any - that they'll have the money to put on a Christmas pageant this year.)

[profanepurity]

Praeteritum Asks! Desperately want to know more about Elizabeth , her hobbies and if she was born in the church, how she met Primo, how they started dating, etc. I just love them, OTP right there.

I'm sorry this took a while, but I can't even begin to express how excited this ask made me! I went a bit overboard so bare with me there is A LOT under the cut. There's some super messy sketches to go along with it all too lol 👻

Thank you so much for the ask, I hope you enjoy 🖤

Elizabeth and Primo have known each other for a very long time. She was born in the church with her family having a significant amount of influence among the higher clergymen. Her father had been a cardinal for a time even back when Nihil was Papa. Primo's eyes locked onto Eliza ever since he first saw her during the first ritual he led as a bishop, and he could never look away again. Primo married her when he became a cardinal, but it wasn't until he was close to becoming Papa himself did he and Eliza start to have dreams. Lilith would regularly come to Eliza, claiming her a her as one of her spiritual daughters that was destined to take the position of Prime Mover, which hadn't been present in the church since Nihil was a boy. Primo and Eliza will regularly perform the divine ritual of conceiving the antichrist, yet despite being married for many, many decades, he is still stunned every time he sees her walk to him. Since Primo is often used as some what of an oracle for the Pseudomonarchia, this little human behavior can be a bit annoying, which of course they voice to their poor chosen vessel in his head... all at once. Thankfully Lilith is dominantly present during every conception ritual.

Their relationship is one you can really only achieve after knowing someone for a very long time. Despite leading very involved lives in the church, even after Primo steps down as Papa, they naturally gravitate back towards each other at some point during the day.

Primo can get fairly cynical and dark at times, bordering on resentful, and that's not only because he's had to do some shit to please Satanas- thanks Imperator. Eliza never fails to reel her husband back in and calm him, just as Primo can put a smile on Eliza's face without necessarily even trying. This isn't to say Eliza doesn't have a darkness to her as well, she's just a bit more subtle about it. An enraged Papa Emeritus I is not a dark entity that the church or any unwanted individuals that have wandered onto the unblessed grounds wants to witness again- they have had the fortune of not yet witnessing it from Prime Mover Elizabeth. However, Eliza and Primo at their cores are good and love their family and the siblings of sin very much. And with that, let's get into Eliza's duties and her relationships! ^^

Of course, other than helping her Papa in their garden, the Prime Mover is very involved with the children in the church. She is a wise and patient maternal figure that has an extensive amount of knowledge on herbal medicines, the dark arts, and other teachings that she gently exposes the children to. Never would she force these practices upon them, but rather guide them and allow their paths that Lucifer has already paved for them to direct them towards a certain interest or specialty. While Eliza does have the help of her ghoulettes Cirrus and Cumulus, which Primo summoned to help his wife during her first year as Prime Mover, her new assistant, Sister Natalia, helps her with the younger children very often. Natalia is young and has only recently taken her final vows to be an official sister of sin, as she'd previously been connected to a Catholic order... but she is never the less an eager, fast learner that Eliza sees a great deal of promise in. Her close relationship with a certain Cardinal and his ghouls gave the Prime Mover the idea of introducing the children early on to the ghouls, so as to reduce intimidation and see them as helpers and protectors rather than beings to fear. Sodo and Mountain were used during this little trial meeting, and it went better than you would expect. (Mountain put a flower on his head to try and make his nearly 8 feet tall ghoul ass look less scary).

Perhaps her favorite duty, which she sees as more of a privilege, is being a mentor to her niece, Bellamy. Despite the situation being a bit complicated and accidental, Sister Diana and Papa Secondo's daughter is adored within the church. Little Bellamy is very curious and bright, with a bit of her father's sharp tongue and her mother's serenity in the face of the hellish things that surround her. (I'll do one of these for Diana and Bellamy if you guys want!)

As I mentioned, Eliza met Primo when he was a Bishop, so by extension she has known his brothers since they were quite young. Her interactions range from teasing to mothering, but never in an overbearing way. One of the reasons Primo fell so hard for her was because of her care towards his younger brothers and little Cardi, who Terzo would often be dragging along with him to get into trouble when they were children. The Prime Mover is also very close to Sister Diana, as she will often gentle pester Papa Secondo to marry Diana already, but she's been unsuccessful so far.

The cardinals worry her, but for different reasons. Terzo seems to run straight forward into the fires of Hell with reckless abandon, while Copia drowns himself in his work far too much for her taste. Satanas help her when Papa decides to lead a ritual with BOTH of his cardinals involved.

Her least favorite relationships are with Sister Imperator and Papa Nihil. They don't always see eye to eye, but Imperator and her work well enough together to make important decisions within the ministry. They get along, as long as Imperator doesn't start making vague threats towards her boys.

Papa Nihil on the the other hand, she respects, but she finds herself praying more often than not for patience while holding the sacrificial bowl containing his offering. It doesn't matter what the ritual or sacrifice demands of this man, Nihil takes this as an chance to vent to Eliza, literally and metaphorically bleeding himself out. Thankfully Nihil has a level of appreciation for Eliza. Her father had been one of his cardinals after all. Unfortunately he doesn't have the same appreciation for his own sons, but does seem to be somewhat interested in Bellamy's upbringing.

Also, I know there's a lot going on in that last sketch, so to summarize: Nihil thinks Secondo is getting too distracted with Sister Diana and Bellamy, but can't complain too much since he continued the blood line. He thinks Primo had more to give and doesn't under stand his decision to step down, and REALLY doesn't understand why Eliza and him haven't had a child of their own yet. Terzo is the golden child but his rebellion is starting to get on Nihil's nerves. He's too stubborn to admit that Terzo and Copia posing as priests in a Catholic Church during a mass that was live broadcasted that one time was a pretty damn funny-(That rumor that Nihil mentioned about Terzo and an ex- Catholic nun is pretty shocking, I wonder if it's true...) And of course, Copia just existing irritates him.

For various reasons, Eliza has yet to become a mother, and while she is satisfied with her life as it is, that is one of the few things that actually distress her greatly. She feels as though she is not fulfilling her duty, and more so, she deeply desires a child of her own. She may not show it outwardly, but the rest of the family can tell the topic upsets her sometimes. So when Imperator or Nihil bring it up, arguments are bound to start in her defense.

Let me know what you guys want to learn more about next 🖤

[waitmyturtles]

Possible TWs if I get there: domestic assault, sexual assault, corpses

I've been trying to conjure what to write about Shadow the Series since I binged it last week. It seems tenuous to make any guesses about this show, since each episode does it what needs to do, and adds information that colors and has me questioning any theories I'm coming up with. Instead, I'm just going to meditate on a couple of bits that are sticking with me, and questions that I have about references the show may be making. Full disclosure: I have NOT spent enough time searching for meta in the tag, so my apologies if I'm repeating anything that's already been written.

1) The scene in episode 3 with the monk had me thinking a lot. In reference to an unrelated conversation with @lurkingshan, the legend of the story of villagers sending dead bodies floating down a river as sacrifices to local wild ghosts -- and the timing of the Catholic school being built after World War II -- had me thinking if, within that legend, there were any references to the building of the Burma-Siam Railway, also known as the Death Railway. I rewatched that scene yesterday, and noted that the referenced dead bodies were not necessarily attributed as being of the village in which the monk is from.

I'm extrapolating: taking into consideration that memories of assault or trauma among children are often dissociated into stories (think Life of Pi), the same will often go for local legends of attack and war. Again, I'm extrapolating, but I think it's interesting to note that this school was built on otherwise venerable grounds, meaningful to the local villagers, and that ghosts considered inhabitants of this area began to rebel against not being worshipped.

Catholic schools in Southeast Asia were already plentiful before WWII due to colonialism; in fact, a Catholic school built AFTER WWII would be relatively new, as compared to schools built before and at the turn of the 20th century. I wonder what it meant that that school was only built after the war.

2) I very much appreciate that Dan never lacks a critical eye or question. He heard from the monk that he should use his dream ring to bring him back to reality; but also, that staying in the dream realm for too long would expose him to "things he shouldn't know" (I'm paraphrasing). And Dan asks why.

Dan's someone who questions, and who lets other people who that he's going to question.

I appreciate that while the set-up of Dan's exposure to the Buddhism of the monk seemed like a reprieve from the weird-ass vibe of the Catholic school -- that Dan didn't fall into the mindset that what he was experiencing at the temple was necessarily "a" or "the" right path. The monk still told him -- as so much of Christianity tells Christians -- to not question certain things, which is out of the possibility of Dan's internal philosophy to find answers.

3) A priest using hypnosis. SMDH. "Feelings aren't reality"? Biatch. I got shivers when Anurak popped out the Rorshach drawings.

4) I mentioned this to a few other folks, but it's definitely giving me the jibbles that Nai seems okay with Dan taking the fall (multiple times) for Nai's revenge scheme against Anan. Without intervention, the oppressed will oppress.

5) Episodes 6 and 7 did not seem as tight as the earlier episodes; it seemed to me that the show, as it continues, is holding a lot of stuff, and will need to unwind on this stuff as we near conclusion. I'm hoping for a tight ending, but we'll see.

I have no theories on the shadow, except, again, many of those who have suffered trauma as children may experience dissociation. But I'm not going to offer that as a theory for conclusion -- it's far too early to make those conjectures. My tastes having me paying continued attention to the themes of Christianity living side-by-side with Asian traditions of religion, spirituality, and local/regional practice, and what it means to have your questioning sides shut down when one has questions about how these cultures co-exist, if at all. I see the clash of cultures especially as juxtaposed during the funerals of Dan's parents at the temple, with Anurak visiting both times.

This is a FANTASTIC show, and it's honestly a HUGE refresher to take a break from traditional BL to watch a queer thriller. I can see that Nai may be attracted to Dan, but I'm honestly so glad to not actively ship Fluke and Singto. They are SO GREAT in their roles, holding their own, and I would be perfectly happy with no couples at the end of this show -- this wouldn't be an element to an excellent ending that I need or that I'd ask for.

[hyakinthou-naos]

A Personal Revelation & Temple Teachings

This is a post about Aön's personal practice, and a peak into our upcoming work and teachings. It's a fairly long post and we didn't want to flood everyone's feeds - so if you're interested you can click below to keep reading :)

[How this relates to The Temple can be found in Section 2]

Section 1: Personal Revelation

When I was between the ages of 13 and 15, during the period of my life when I identified as a Wiccan, I worked with and worshipped the Roman Goddess Diana. This was an extremely positive experience and I have always looked back on my work with her with fondness.

However, many years later when I began my journey into HelPol, I found myself extremely uninterested in working with Artemis. When I tried, it felt like working with a stranger instead of reuniting with an old friend - which was extremely confusing to me for a number of reasons. The main reason being that I syncretize almost all of the Roman counterparts of the Greek deities I worship into said Greek deities (there's more nuance to my syncretizations, but that's a post for another day).

I have been struggling with this for literal years at this point, when finally - finally I found something during a research session that made all the pieces fall into place.

To summarize and simplify the information I found tonight, the Goddess Diana was worshipped in Italy before Greek Polytheism was brought to Rome. She existed as a primordial nature deity associated with the Moon, nature, hunting, as well as crossroads and the underworld (something I found particularly interesting was that her cthonic aspects predate Greek influence and therefore predate Diana being conflated with Hekatê). Once I learned about Diana and not Diana-Artemis - everything made sense.

It is my firm belief that the entity/deity I was working with all those years ago was the ancient Italian goddess, Diana. Specifically the entity or avatar that predates Greek influence. Not only does this explanation just feel *incredibly correct* on it's own, it also feels correct due to my past and my connection with Italy.

My mother's family, on both sides of her family tree, are of Italian descent (mainly from Rome and Sorrento). And while I wasn't raised ethnically Italian, I was raised Roman Catholic - so our Italian heritage and lineage was something that was important and emphasized. I left the Catholic Church at the age of 13, and when I began my journey into paganism around that same time - I did incorporate a lot of my mother's lineage into my practice (primarily through ancestor veneration and ceremonial magic).

Section 2: Temple Teachings

The reason I initially fell down this research rabbit hole is because I am currently working on a large project for The Temple, and part of that involves establishing some forthcoming belief statements and teachings. In this vein, I was working on mythical alignment and interpretation surrounding the primary deities of The Temple and found myself going in circles.

I, as the Temple's Founder, had made the choice to focus much of our spiritual practice and alignment on Lord Apollo - without showing the same focus or attention to Lady Artemis. This was not in any way to disrespect Lady Artemis, but was instead to better align with the alternative revival structure that I had felt called to align The Temple with. However, this alternative revival structure involved reinterpreting the myth of Leto's birth to Apollo in some way to create a literary narrative where Apollo is born AFAB - as a symbolic and mythic exploration of Lord Apollo's transmasculinity. The details of said reinterpretation were what was having me go in circles.

However, following the personal revelation I had, I found the reinterpretation falling into place.

In the myth of their birth, Artemis is said to have been the first born - and even acted as midwife to Leto for the birth of Apollo. However, given the right lens, one could interpret this story as 'Artemis' being the child born of Leto - but that the birth of a second child, a son, at the hands of the first is an allegory or metaphor for Apollo being an AFAB child who transitioned. A child born and given an identity, only to be reborn by his own hands with the support and love of his mother.

Creating this reinterpretation, while also incorporating Ancient Diana into the Temple's Primary Pantheon, allows for Temple patrons and visitors to still have a space for Artemis to exist within ritual and temple literature. Being able to allow space for Artemis to still exist for those who want it was and is incredibly important for me in creating this alternate interpretation of myth - as Lady Artemis is so important for so many people and also extremely important to not ignore or forget.

If anyone has any follow up questions or if any of the above information was not clear please feel free to comment, shoot us an ask, or send us a DM 🕯️

[Source 1] [Source 2]

[catholic-character-tournament]

Quarter Finals - Catholic Character Tournament

Propaganda below ⬇️

Matt

Matt's faith in the show is really important and well explored; one of the first scenes of the show is Matt going to confession (or, well, talking to his priest since he's not really confessing at that point). Matt struggles a lot with what he's supposed to do; everyone's telling him to kill the villain and he kinda wants to, but he literally says: "I know my soul is damned if I take his life". He struggles with his faith and goes with his doubts to his priest, and it's beautiful—also when he finally gets a costume for his vigilanteing he chooses to dress as the devil, lol. (His priest tells him that nothing makes people run to Church faster than the feeling of having the devil on their heels.)

a lot of the show is about how he justifies his vigilante actions with his faith, and whether he's doing the right thing in trying to help people or just using it as an outlet for his anger. the literal first scene of the show has him in a confession booth talking to his priest (who is a really interesting character too). this is not the scene I was talking about but it's such an excellent scene with matt talking to his priest: https://youtu.be/XHZ3NbEIDdw

canonically catholic but dresses like a demon to be quirky

honestly i dont wanna type too much but i feel that matt is a great example of someone who battles with his faith because he rarely loses his faith but rather fights with why he was made the way he was and put through what he was. He believes himself to have the devil inside him but believes that God put him there

ok in the comics barring the most current run matt has Mostly been a non-practicing Catholic that very rarely actually does any catholic Activities but ends up falling back into the Mindset and very occasionally dramatically taking confession (ex. in that one issue where he takes confession, basically tells the father that he is uniquely terrible and is thinking about violently murdering someone and when the father says "you can be forgiven" hes like "AUGFH-- NO!!!!!!!!!!" and runs out) when he's gone through some shit. and i love that its so relatable

This guy so catholic he spends an ungodly amount of time just chilling in the church. And goes there whenever there is a moral conundrum about killing people being Bad even though it would solve a lot of problems and stop said people from killing other people. This happens every other episode. Matt is the Catholic Guilt Guy. There's actually a lot of catholic stuff in the show as a whole. Just a compilation would be like three whole episodes long.

Hes great hes catholic enough to not outrught murder people but not catholic enough to not fuck before marriage hes a bisexual disaster at all times hes besties with a priest might i add hes great hes my special little guy

his catholicism is a huge piece of his characterisation he was raised by nuns in a catholic orphanage, the first scene we ever see him (as an adult and not a flashback) is him going to confession, he is good friend with his priest and has regular debates with him, etc also in s3 he has a huge crisis of faith after he lost A Lot where he stops believing for a while and it's linked to his identity crisis where he actually wants to kill another person (a hard line he previously chose never to cross) and wants to be only daredevil and not matt murdock, when he is both and needs both to exist also when he was a kid his grandmother used to say "watch out for the murdock boys, they've got the devil in them" and it created a surprising lot of his issues

So he's both catholic in the comics and the show but he's More Catholic in the show. Like, raised in a catholic orphanage by nuns (ONE OF WHICH IS HIS *MOTHER*), second scene in the show has him in a confession box kind. Matt Murdock goes out and gets the shit beaten out of him nightly and also beats the shit out of other people and purposefully leaned into devil iconography as his theme. When his nurse friend says, he takes a lot of punishment without one complaint he says "That part's the Catholicism." It is a Core Aspect of his character (at least in the show). He makes me insane. Also the same chemicals that blinded him created the teenage mutant ninja turtles and everyone should know that.

They went to confession to a priest who they had saved as their costumed counterpart and the guy recognized them by the voice, proving that it's possible and everyone else is just dumb

he takes "i wanna fight god" to new and incredibly violent levels, while also being a sweetheart and a goofball

Actually strictly WILL NOT kill criminals. Goes wayyy out of his way to avoid it. Fights with the Punisher about it. Goes to confession booth after nightly vigilante excursions. Feels so much guilt. "How have you been holding up?" "Like a good Caltholic boy" "that bad huh" - actual conversation with his priest

So Daredevil struggles with his mission as a crime fighter because killing criminals goes against his faith. He makes it a point to not kill criminals, believing that even bad people deserve a second chance. This philosophy puts him at odds against The Punisher, who is a relentless killer. As a Catholic myself, while I love the concept of a morally conflicted superhero, I think the worldbuilding around Daredevil is lacking. If he struggles with violence and killing, why doesn't he pray to warrior saints like Saint Michael, Saint Ignatius of Loyola (a former knight), or Saint Joan of Arc? Why isn't there a community of other Catholics he can turn to for guidance, considering New York City has a sizeable population of Catholics? And why are the churches he goes to always empty? Doesn't he know that the Catholic Church supports the just war theory? I think that would have made his burden more bearable.

He goes to church and confesses to punching people and says "imma do it again can i apologize in advance" and the father dude says "no you're meant to stop now" and Matt says "no" and they do this everyday. I'm not remembering it properly but this is a canon interaction i swear

HELLO HI YES I LOVE HIM AND WILL INFOR DUMP ok so. he is a vigalantty and he got named daredevil and he is an orphan and after the age of 12 was raised in an orphanage at a Catholic church and his therapist is his priest via confession abd. also his mother is a nun he has a whole mental breakdown over god and called Job a pussy because he liked god until he got better and liked god again he said "I'm dearedrvil and not even god can stop that now" and he's so cool

matt is a freakish little babygirl who was raised by nuns and definitely has religious trauma. i hate him so much (affectionately)

he’s literally fucking insane about it i don’t know what to say here. he thinks he’s chosen by god to go on some sort of holy quest to save hell’s kitchen. joan of arc ass.

i already know hes in by default j just wanted to give him a personal shout out i love this angsty catholic dweeb

how practicing he is depends on the run, but in my favorite he is quite literally confessing to a member of the last extant order millitant who happens to be a priest at a church in hells kitchen.

i love him for having the funniest version of a trope i usually hate (person gets into confession booth and asks forgiveness not for what they've done, but for what they're about to do). usually this trope just looks silly to me bc like. the priest would just say "i can't do that" and you would have to either awkwardly explain yourself or just Leave. it's funny when matt does it because fr. lantom is probably like "what are you gonna do???" and matt's like "lol. lmao. 😊 hehehe." anyway we love this angry catholic man who dresses up like the devil to beat people up in hell's kitchen

I'm sure Harrow is lovely and I respect the space lesbians but listen to me. Listen.

Matt Murdock is the Catholic character of all time, and if you make him lose, I am blowing up this website and everyone in it.

He is Catholic. His mother is a nun. He grew up in a catholic orphanage. Half the episodes in the show include him going to confession. When he needs therapy, he talks to his priest. He dresses up as a devil partly because of the Catholicism.

One time he got godly powers on loan from Heimdall (see below), and he did a lot of good with it, and then the second it was over he just... well. Also see below!

This man's every coping mechanism is Catholicism.

Please vote for Matt in the @catholic-character-tournament because he's the best and most realistic representation of what it means to be Catholic. Someone who's been punched and bet and crushed by life but still gets up every day to try. No, he's not a nun like his competition but he's not less devoted because of that. Not everyone is called to service. In the day he works at a defense lawyer to help people. Not for the money but to help people not get screwed over by the law. And at night, he dons a mask and beats up assholes when the law fails them. Is he perfect? No, that's the point. Matt is a broken man who is just trying his best to do well and live like Jesus.

He fully embodies the Catholic doctrine of faith and good works. He has faith in what he's doing even if others challenge him. He believes in forgiveness and repenting even when going up against "the devil."

"The people you murder deserve another chance." ... "No, Frank. To try again, Frank. To try. And if you don't get that, there's something broken in you you can't fix, and you really are a nutjob." "You think God made you a one-man firing squad. But you're wrong. There is goodness in people, even in you. And you're gonna have to kill me, 'cause I'm never gonna stop coming for you, until I take you down."

Daredevil Season 2 Episode 3

He (tries) to love his enemy. He believes in Elektra and Frank and maybe Dex and their ability to change. To be good. And when he can't, Matt refuses to compromise on his morals. While not quite "turning his cheek" he never scoops to their level. Because they don't get to destroy who he is.

Daredevil Season 3 Episode 13

All he does is for the love he has to his neighbors, his community. He loves New York. Not for self-fulfilling needs or for the money or for the fame. He does it because he believes in justice. Because the law was created by humans and is inherently sinful.

"But his competition met God and was disappointed and blah blah"

Daredevil is more grounded (at least the show, maybe less the comics). So now, Matt doesn't met God. But he sure gets mad at him. All of season 3 he angry at God for all the trauma he expired.

"You see, that was me, Sister. I suffered willingly. I gave my, uh... sweat and blood and skin without complaint. Because I too believed I was God's soldier. ( chuckles ) Well, not anymore. I am what I do in the dark now. I bleed only for myself. ( scoffs )" ... "You might hate God right now, but the feeling is not mutual." "No, I don't hate him. I've just seen his true face, is all."

Season 3 episode 1

As a Catholic I don't really want to fight God in a parking lot. Well I do but not in the same way that I've understood (primarily Jewish people but probably other Abrahamic religions) want to fight God in a Denny's parking lot. I want to yell and scream and cry at God and for the feeling to not be mutual. For Him to never stop loving me. As long as I have faith, He will reach out his hand.

Homura

she is a catholic lesbian whose girlfriend became god. she has been through so much.

shes such a lesbian for amdoke

Catholic guilt literally turned her into a demon

she literally watches everyone she knows die over and over and over again just so she can save madoka, the one girl who showed kindness towards her. when madoka ends up basically becoming god in order to stop the cycle of death and violence, homura RIPS AWAY THE HUMAN PART OF HER SOUL so that she can create a world where she and Madoka and their friends can live happily, effectively becoming the devil to madoka’s god

She has so much religious symbolism when it comes to her relationship to Madoka. Madoka is God and Homura becomes Lucifer so that she can save Madoka and give her happiness. She literally rips God from heaven and rewrites reality though. The way she sees her self and shapes reality is through the lense of Catholicism.

most fucked up little catholic girl. we love that for her.

Okay homuras entire fuckin arc is stemmed from the fact she is Catholic. Look at her trying to save Madoka over and over again and suffering for it because she thinks if she suffers enough and works hard enough Madoka will stay. Normal people do not go into time loops willingly. Catholics will.