#on account of it being catholic guilt and all

[duckthello]

saw this somewhere in relation to a different ship, but seeing as top gun lives in my head rent free 24/7, my immediate thought was icemav. because this could be so mav&ice.

maverick is obviously the 'goofy' one (or at least, he’s the one who appears goofy and careless most of the time, because he does have a tendency to act on impulse, not think just do, and says the first thing that comes to his mind and has a general disregard for regulations and all the unspoken rules of the world around him, resulting in him sometimes acting, well, dumb, and wholeheartedly owning it. (but it’s all actually the result of his life growing up, when he learnt that everything and everyone in his life would always be against him, and that life would never be fair. so why even try to be proper and flawless when it would never be enough, with everyone already having an opinion on him - the orphan, the Duke Mitchell’s son, the uneducated troublemaker that didn’t even go to Annapolis, - before even meeting him. can't destroy your reputation if you don't have one to begin with so might as well have some fun while at it.)

and while for ice it wouldn't necessarily be 'catholic guilt' (on account of him being jewish), i imagine it would be a sort of mixture of having grown up in a very traditional household (where anything new or just simply different, that didn't fit into their pre-established routine and worldview was not acceptable) and in a religious family. and, on top of all of that, most of his relatives are military, meaning he's been surrounded by written and unwritten rules and regulations and expectations of how things should be his whole life, resulting in him turning out the way he did - cautious, waiting out making any difficult decisions, aware of the weight of expectations, reputation and years of traditions resting on his shoulders.

[spacedace]

Maybe I've just missed it, but I feel like there's not enough discussion on Catholic Jason Todd and his feelings on being seemingly resurrected by God Jeesie-Chreesie style.

Like, we as the readers know that it was a reality bending punch from Superboy Prime that brought Jason back, but in canon no one has any explanation at all for how that happened.

The Lazarus Pit fixed him, but he was already alive (just in super bad shape) to be fixed. He woke up in his own coffin and had to claw out of his own grave and no one in-universe can explain how or why it happened.

And that alone would fuck someone up, but add in Catholic Guilt (TM) and references to the resurrection floating around every Easter and Jason's gotta wonder at least a little bit if the Big G brought him back and if so has to absolutely agonize over what he's done with his big second chance.

I just wanna read 100k words of Jason's complicated feelings on his death, rebirth (resurrection?), Red Hood, God, Bruce and what it all means, if anyone's got any recs please share them I'm begging 😭

[angelsforthenight]

BEYOND SALVAGE — ellie williams x fem!reader.

a catholic boarding school AU pt 1 🍓

pt 2 here!

you’re somebody that’s virtuous, staying in an all girls catholic boarding school. fallen victim to the vast fear of god, you try your hardest not to sin. however what happens when an embarrassing incident catches a certain rogue girl’s attention — who absolutely reeks of sin?

content: heavy religious talk, catholic, holy! reader, rebel!ellie, quiet!reader, player!ellie, ellie has piercings, ‘lil raunchy but no smut (yet heheh), v brief mention of drugs, v brief mention of porn.

a/n: this is a rewrite of a fic i did back in the summer! i had accidentally (and stupidly) deleted my account :,) let’s pray people see this.

having lived in a catholic boarding school for half of your life, it’s only natural you were heavily religious. the fear of god plagued you like a disease. you were nailed on following the Word, and earning a seat in heaven — not it’s roaring, fiery counterpart.

you were a good girl: always following the rules the sisters bestowed upon you. always deemed as pure, and untainted. you prayed every night without fail: knelt beside your bed, elbows against the mattress, hands clasped together.

you had always tried your hardest to stray away from sin. however, there’d be temptations, of course. for instance, that one time you caught a bunch of girls in your dorm giggling and squealing at a porno-magazine they had randomly found somewhere. you had accidentally caught a very brief glimpse at a woman flaunting her tits and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but it made you feel something. a needy little throb between your thighs. that night, consumed with guilt, you had prayed so hard that your head hurt.

oh, and if we’re talking about temptations? ELLIE WILLIAMS had to be the hardest one yet.

take the word sinful and ellie would come to mind. she was someone you had always tried your best to avoid. rebellious, brash and cocky. it was said she was forced here as punishment from her parents. she had always been hard to discipline: had piercings (spider bites and one on her right brow), always snuck out and was notorious for smuggling in drugs.

even though ellie was a pain, there was no way the nuns could expel her since her parents sponsored the school a generous amount. they had to resort to seeing ellie as someone they could “save.”

whenever she roamed the hallways, every girl would scramble to move out of her way. she was incredibly intimidating and got into fights whenever she wanted to — both with students AND the sisters. of course you wouldn’t want to mess with her.

there were also numerous rumours circling around about her. too many to count, but one stuck with you the most: that she gets it on with girls. hearing from your gossip-gripped friends that ellie had fucked a handful of girls in your school had surprised you. you were brutally naive, so preoccupied with seeming good in the eyes of the Lord that you weren’t aware that something like that could happen. this had only made you want to stay away from ellie even more.

you were quiet, so timid and meek that you believed yourself lucky to actually have friends. your quietness allowed ellie not to notice you, not even be aware of your existence despite you two being in a lot of the same classes. you didn’t mind — in fact, you were glad. relieved, even.

that is, until the school’s annual sports day.

it was a scorching hot day in the middle of june and many of the girls were excited. not particularly because of the sports but because every time, the neighbouring all boys school would join yours. a classic boys versus girls. you didn’t really care whether the boys were here or not, as opposed to your friends who were all bashful and red-faced. you found it understandable considering they’re sheltered away from them most of the time. bless them.

you and your friends were leaning against the fence of the tennis court. you were so hot that your t-shirt stuck to the small of your back, little baby hairs glued to your forehead. bored from all the boy-talk, your eyes decided to drift to a certain auburn-haired girl: manspreading on the bench right across from you. you wondered how a woman could sit so unladylike.

ellie was out of breath, probably from doing a running activity. there was visible sweat gleaming on the corner of her forehead and her cheeks were pink. god knows why, but you allowed yourself to prolong your stare. you watched as ellie grabbed her water bottle, gulping down desperate sips; some of the water spilling and dripping down her slender neck. you watched as the skin on her neck bobbed as she sipped, heard as she panted breathlessly like a dog. you felt the skin on your cheeks begin to prickle, and you suddenly found it hard to breathe. when her pale green eyes caught yours, you immediately looked away, turning your attention back to your friends. that was the first time you two had ever made eye contact.

a moment later, it was your group’s turn to play tennis. ellie remained perched on the bench, and as you waited in the queue to have a go on batting the ball, you happened to be quite near her. you tried your very best to play it cool. ellie paid no attention, spaced-out and obviously too lazy to participate in the activities.

there were also boys in the queue, right behind you, which had got your girls in a frenzy. one of your friends decided to push you against them. “oops” she would say before purposely bumping you towards them again and again. you were awkward and uncomfortable, but you had played it off and giggled, acting as if it was funny. at a point, she accidentally pushed you too hard which made you lose your balance; stumbling on your heel and falling backwards. right onto ellie’s lap. yep! her lap.

“woah?” ellie said, caught off guard. “oh shit. go. go!” your so-called friends murmured as they scrambled off, leaving you completely and utterly humiliated. you immediately bolted off her lap as you turned around to look at her.

“i’m really sorry. that was— i mean, my f-friends were…” you began to ramble, feeling your whole body turn hot. ellie’s lips cracked up into an amused grin.

“it’s chill. not very often you get a cute girl sitting on your lap for less than a second.” she chuckled. you blushed immensely, before rapidly nodding and speeding away.

if only your little innocent self knew how quick things would change…

a/n: hooked? read pt 2 here!

[blissfulip]

—Legion

On AO3

Priest!Viktor x F!demon!reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Priest Kink, Blasphemy, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Flagellation, Demon Sex, Demon Summoning, Demon/Human Relationships, demon reader, AU - Canon Divergence, Post medieval era, Dubious Science, Church Sex, Roman Catholicism, Catholic Guilt, Improper Use of Catholic Rituals, Shameless Smut, Masturbation

Cw: blood, self flagellation, masturbation

Words: 1.7k

[A/N: extremely blasphemous, but again, you saw the tags. Please read at your own risk! (also, let me know if you want to be tagged or removed in future fic updates!)]

Tags: @ihopeinevergetsoberr @chemical-killjoy @jinxed-jk @bobobomao @queen-of-elves @thedustybunny @syren201 @thayfass @thehistoriangirl @hypocritic-trash-baby

Playlist made by my baby Soln <3 @ihopeinevergetsoberr

Next

I.

Extra ecclesiam nulla salus. 

 There is a certain comfort in fear. When you see what awaits you at the gaping, harrowing mouth of hell, knowledge of the place you must avoid, ultimately, is power. There was a time when Viktor pitied those who did not know—those who lived despondent lives, unaware and unafraid of damnation. Recently, he had found himself wishing he knew less. 

 A ravening beast with a thousand bloody teeth, inside its mouth a cauldron, and in it the souls of the accursed with sin, boiling over scorching flames as legions of fiendish demons dragged in multitudes more. This image plagued Viktor’s mind without rest, be it vividly in his dreams, in the colossal fresco at the entrance of his local cathedral, or in the comical props onstage at the theater plays. 

 The parish clergy that had taken him in as a kid had made the mistake of noticing his outstanding intelligence and awarding him time to dedicate to studying philosophy, a privilege that many of the choir monks and lay brothers did not receive. In university, philosophy had turned into physics, and soon that turned into astronomy, which he had to keep a secret on account of the recent prohibitions put in place by Paul V’s Inquisition over the study of Copernican theories. 

 After he was ordained and returned to his home cathedral, this once silent yet innocent interest had turned into complete secrecy, and the fear of God that had once given him solace now tormented him. At times he considered giving up on his work; the mechanical objections of Copernican theory should not be of this much significance to him after all; there had to be something of value in what Thomas Aquinas had to say, and perhaps Agustine of Hippo had some good points. Nevertheless, it was the night sky that called to him, and even this far from it, he could not escape. 

 But outside the church there is no salvation , and Viktor knew that even if he was never to be condemned as a heretic in life, what awaited him in death was a flaming tomb at Epicure's side. Quod extra ecclesiam nulla salus. 

---------------------------------------------------

His parish was a pious one, but Viktor would refuse to receive lithe from the members of his church. The first time he tried this, the bishop was immediately alerted, and he was secluded to live in the small room inside the chapel as a ‘punishment’ for his impertinence. Viktor did not mind; the lands he had been previously allotted were too much to care for on his own, with cleaning being especially hard once his leg would start tiring out, and the presence of the personnel of lay brothers that would follow him around made his studies impossible; thus, the contained space of the church was comfortable to live in on his own.

 It had been a particularly cold morning. The week before, he had received word of the imminent visit of his diocesan bishop, and the impending possibility of his stay at any moment in the near future had tied his eyebrows into a permanent knot and his shoulders into a tense bundle of nerves since that morning. 

 To his dismay, the state of his works had made no decent progress, his journal being nothing more than a few numbers and three words on a painfully empty piece of parchment. He understood Latin; he had studied it at length in university, but when he took a break to read the Bible, the words on it floated around aimlessly, in a messy concoction of nothing. 

 “Per fidem enim ambulamus et non per speciem,” he repeated to himself in a whisper, and then closed the pages lethargically. 

 He read the cover of a white volume that had been lying on his desk for over a month now. He was sure he would have possibly agreed with what Foscarini had to say, so the feeling of dread he felt every time he laid eyes upon the title was mystifying to him. Though it made sense after some reflection, he was afraid. 

 When he read Copernicus, it felt distant, a world he was only a visitor in, but the Foscarini was a carmelite father, one of his own that was now nothing short of a persona non-grata in the eyes of the Roman Catholic Church. Viktor was afraid that what he had to say might make sense and that he might be so correct in his observations that this knowledge would drag him into the same status. 

 In retrospect, he should not have read it. 

 In fact, opening the cover was a big mistake on its own. Not even 3 pages in, the door of his room unceremoniously barged open, revealing the full figure of Father Isodore. Viktor and him never really got along; his time in the monastery as a kid was full of rule-breaking and inappropriate questions, and to Father Isidore’s dismay, insatiable curiosity remained Viktor’s fatal flaw well into his adulthood. 

 Not a single word was uttered as he carried his sunny disposition and rubicund complexion over to Viktor’s desk. There was no use in trying to hide what he was holding; Viktor carried the same guilty look on his face every time he did something he was not supposed to. Once a cute kid trying to hide some innocent misdeeds, his expression had grown into one of unadulterated shame and indignity in the wake of sin, and the bishop knew this all too well. The book was snatched off his hands aggressively.

“‘Epistle concerning the mobility of the earth’,” he read, “would be an interesting read if only as a piece of fiction, and perhaps in a different climate.”

“Your excellence, I eh—”

“Save it. Don’t worsen your sin by bearing false witness.”

Viktor looked down and sighed in resignation, a disappointed sadness creeping up in his throat.

“You are very much aware those texts have been forbidden, but since words seem to slide off you, I hope physical penance can remind you of your depravity,” Father Isidore said coldly as he handed Viktor the whip that usually served as no more than a piece of decoration adorning his wall. “Ten of them, and be intentional. One pater noster after each.”

“Yes, father.”

“It’s a shame; I have come to congratulate you on your work for the community. Repent. ” The emphasis on the last word punctuated his departure.

A cold feeling arose in Viktor’s stomach as he looked down at the whip, something akin to fear but also awfully comparable to excitement.

Three deep breaths are what he allowed himself; it would be better to get it over with as quickly as possible. He removed his vestments unhurriedly, only his bottoms remaining as he sluggishly kneeled by the bed, and the chilled air on his back was, in hindsight, not as bad as he thought at the moment. His hand trembled slightly when his grip on the whip tightened, and his jaw locked into a gritted grin as he sucked air in through his teeth.

The first flick of his arm was swift, like ripping away a bandage to make the pain go away as fast as your wrist could tug at it. It did not help; the feeling of the small metal beads digging into his skin was instantaneous, and it disappeared soon, but the burning that replaced it lingered.

“ Pater noster, qui es in cælis:sanctificetur nomen tuum; adveniat regnum tuum; fiat voluntas tua, sicut in cælo et in terra .”

A swarm of ants biting at the exposed skin on his back was a scorching fire.

“Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie,et dimitte nobis debita nostra, sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris; et ne nos inducas in tentationem; sed libera nos a malo.”

Then it subsided, and the slight chills on his arms were due to something else. He took his time with the second hit, languidly whipping both hands back this time to maintain the same level of strength. The aching this time was different; the burning of his skin was quenched by the few droplets of blood and sweat trickling down his spine. And there was something else—a burning feeling that was misplaced not on his back or wrists but in his lower stomach.

“Pater noster, qui es in cælis:sanctificetur nomen...” He started once again, both hands holding one another around the handle of the whip, closed in prayer as he shut his eyes tightly for concentration. This proved to be fruitless when an uncomfortable tightness in the fabric around his crotch distracted his attention away from the words he was reciting. He tried to continue with his prayer, but an ill-calculated movement tugged at the tender skin of his back, and the brief sting made the already confining feeling worsen, morphing into an odd mixture of ache and delight.

He figured out what this meant soon enough. The conflicting feeling did not originate from any sort of confusion about what he was experiencing; it came with the quandary of his two options: either keep going to conclude his penalty and follow orders, or go against those orders to avoid tainting this sacred act with his depravity.

He unlaced his trousers before going for the third whip. The aching feeling on his back was almost completely gone, replaced by a numb tingling along the wounded skin and an unbearable heat in his groin. The fourth hit was one-handed. Right hand wrapping tightly along the handle and left hand mirroring the grip around his cock as he pumped himself mechanically. When the metal hit the skin, a jolt of what felt like electricity traveled all the way down to his stomach, the member on his hand twitching in anticipation.

There was no fifth hit or anything beyond that. A final tug with a firm hand and gritted teeth culminated in his climax, hot viscosity percolating through his fingers as he rested his forehead on the edge of the bed. His chest heaved up and down as he whispered a string of prayers. Shame washed over him.

“Castigo corpus meum.” He repeated incessantly until he had enough strength in his legs to stand.

[importantgalaxyrunaway]

Better than the devil. (Matt Murdock x reader) part 2

read part one here (tPLEASE COMMENT AND REBLOG I WORKED REALLY HARD IN THIS ONE)

warnings: a little spicy at the end, very much implied smut at the end. Lots of angst. SO MUCH CATHOLIC GUILT. Guilt in general. Negative self talk. I tried my best wrote a lot more than normal. LOTS OF FLUFF TOO!!!, such cute interactions with the child.

note 📝: italics are Matt’s thoughts Might do a part 3 but I’ll do some one shots before hand. Have lots of ideas will post a poll. Let me know if ya wanna be tagged in Matt Murdock fics

@schneeflocky

Matt finally stirs with his wife in his arms. Maybe it was the fact it was now morning or perhaps indulgence on sounds the city was emitting this morning. The chaos, the carnage he could hear it all. The “blip” had blown everything apart and now society was scrambling to put itself back together the night after they returned. But then he feels her weight on him, like an anchor to the real world and his senses. Her soft sleeping heartbeat flutters and her skin…her skin was like honey. Her scent was intoxicatingly good. He breathed in her lavender smell. His fingers skate over her silk nightgown. He smiles to himself remembering how he had bought it for her. It was his favorite fabric, he loved feeling and loving her in it. She used to tease him by wearing it when she wanted his attention begging for his touch. Trying not to wake her, he shifts her body slightly off of his own and stands up walking to their bedroom. There he changes from his work suit to causal clothes (in the gif)

he walks back to her and stokes his hair. And a sudden pang of guilt washes over him, he could still smell her salty tears from the last night. Right now there was nothing stopping him from being engulfed in an ocean of catholic guilt.

he had left her. He had knocked her up and left her like some deadbeat. It was like he had used her for her body. No one deserves that let alone the woman he married. The woman he loved. Who had been through so much pain with him on his account. All the nights were she’d patched him up from practically the brink of death. Were her scent and touch were some of the only things grounding him from a volume of guilt and dispear. From overwhelming all the sounds and sense. Her delicate kiss and featherlight fingers keep him sane in those dark days where he almost lost sight of everything. This was the woman he said he would never leave. Vowed it to god on their wedding. No, She deserves much better than him. Better than the devil.

Now even Matt knew that the blip wasn’t his fault, there was nothing stopping the inevitable, but its catholic guilt and there no stopping it. Besides, he also left the city and the danguorus streets. God knows what Fisk did while he was gone. He clenched his fist and the mere thought. The devil clawing to get out of him. He needed to get back on the streets tonight. But then….he heard it a small body the pads of her feet halting to a stopped when she saw him. Her small but mighty heartbeat pounding.

“who are you? Get away from my mommy!” He was surprised at the fearlessness and authority in her squeaky voice. But mostly he was stunned. He tried to speak but it was as if his mouth dried up. He couldn’t believe it…he was a father? He had made her? She was so big he had missed so much. Another pang of guilt racked his body. God, she had to grow up without a father for the first years of her life.

“why are you staring at me like that?” She questioned. Of course he wasn’t Staring but he was facing her general direction and his thousand yard stare seemed to be unsettling. Sensing her slight discomfort he quickly grabbed his red glasses and put them on as not to scare her. Finally his body felt as if it was not cemented. And finally y/n woke up, stretched and yawned and her eyes fell upon the sight in front of her.

“angel it’s okay, i know him. He’s not here to hurt us” She says quickly and it puts her at ease. Matt can sense her shoulder untenseing and her heartbeat returning to normal. Y/n sighs “what are you doing up?” She kisses Matt’s still numb with shock body on the cheek. walking towards the kitchen that’s near the living room area so they can still talk.

her hands make a motion and cover her ears. She makes a face of discomfort. “City’s- loud today. More than normal, it hurts.”

his wife made a sympathetic nod as if this is not the first time she’s heard something like this.

“ok, I’m going to make all of us some banana pancakes and I promise angel I will explain everything” she says makeing the batter “oh and Mathew dear, you don’t have to wear those glasses this is your own home and she should get used to it”

suddenly realization struck Matt like a harpoon. And he find his voice. He snaps his fingers to make himself wake up out of this trance. He takes of his glasses tentivily.

“wait…you can hear the city?” He crouched down next to angel. “Does she have my sense?”

“she does. I…haven’t explained it to her fully yet but she knows she different than other kids”

a wave of emotions washed over him like tidal wave in a storm. He could barely even believe he was a father and now this. Concern, hope, protectiveness, guilt. But what beamed the most inside of him was pride. Intense pride. And he beams. She was like him, she could hear the city, feel the things he felt. From every heels on the pavement to every whiff of purfume that would hit him like a brick wall rather than a ‘pleasant smell’. He worried of course about it. But wasn’t this more than he could possibly have hoped for? He wasn’t alone. He puts her hand on his chest and his on hers.

“can you hear my heartbeat?” He says shakily. You can tell he’s fighting back tears

“mhm. It’s strong!”

“I-i can hear yours too. It’s small but it’s powerful.”

they sit the for a while , him crouching to meet her level hand on each others hearts in unison. His strong steady and hearty. The heart of a fighter. Hers quick and small, like a butterfly beating its wings. Listening to their heartbeats in chorus. As father and daughter. The moment is so beautiful he doesn’t want to break it but eventually withdrawals his hand and stands up. The girl looked at him quizzically and then ran to her room to play with her toys till breakfast is ready.

“you never told me” he walks towards where she is frying at the stove and hugs her from behind. She squeals slightly as he does this surprised. He wraps his arms tightly around her waist. “I’m sorry I left you ” he purrs into her ear. Nuzzling and nipping at her neck then pressing featherlight kisses all down her collarbone. Stopping for a moment to inhale her lavender scent. She flips the final pancake off the stove and turns it off. She turns around to face him and put her arms around his neck. Her livly met his unseeing ones and she wished for just about the millionth time he could see, just so he could stare into his eyes and for once have them meet hers back. His hazel eyes were so damn pretty and it always pissed her off that he hid them from the world. Not that he didn’t look good in his signature red glasses, oh no he was beautiful but to her it was sad he had to hide. His fluffy hair looked magnificent and she couldn’t help admire him. He ruffles his hair and goes to the table were she calls for angel and serves them all a healthy stack of pancakes. As they sit down eating their pancakes angel finally breaks the silence.

“so……who is he”

she takes a deep breath ready to plunge into the conversation “he’s your father”

“I thought you said dad was gone?”

“yes well, I thought that too. They are calling it a blip. Half of the universe seems to have mysteriously disappeared and then reappeared five years later. Your dad was one of them”

“oh” is all the little girl manages trying to wrap her head around the idea

“it’s confusing but the important part is he’s back and we’re going to be a family”

the little girl beams at her new found father. I hold Mathew’s hand and pat it reassuringly. The atmosphere feels like it’s ten pounds lighter and calmer.

“also, angel” matt starts as if testing saying her name “im not exactly normal. And neither are you . that’s a good thing. When I was a kid a truck with chemicals hit me in my eyes. And that’s why I can’t make eye contact with you. I’m blind sweetie.”

“you can’t see me?” Her eyes widening as if she’s never thought of the mere idea of blindness. Her tone astonished.

“no but you see, just like you i can hear everything in the city. Actually i can hear and feel and smell much more than you can. Even though i lost my sight my other senses were heightened. I can “see” in my own way”

“you aren’t blind but you still have some of your father’s abilities” y/n added

she nods taking in all the information. They realized it was a lot for a little girl but they didn’t want to talk down to her. She was smart and they knew that. There he had told her everything….well not everything.

——————/————/—————-/.——

As long as he could he would never tell her about the devil in him. The fact that he was balancing daredevil and being a father terrified him, all Fisk would see was a potential weakness. The day still haunted him to this day when he had kidnapped his wife and hurt her just to prove a point to him. He still felt guilty when his hands slid over her ridges, scars and burns from where he had hurt her. Everytime the guilt hurt him more than a gunshot. As he leaped across buildings listening for screams and cries he thought about this. A lot more crime had come after the blip, people who were devastated for losing their family’s or desperate because their jobs. He had been more busy in these days than he had ever before as daredevil. He had already stopped, an armed robbery, a kidnapping of a little girl, and prevented a woman about to be attacked by a man with a knife and done many others. He had sustained more cuts than bargained for, including a long gash across his side. Maybe it was the fact that it had been five years. The world had moved on without him. Crime was rampant in Hell’s Kitchen more than ever before. He couldnt continue not with dried blood caked all over his suit. Not with multiple gashes and cuts and bruises across his body. He made his way across the rooftops jumping back to his house. He slide in through the window. He listened to their hearts. Angels was slow and steady she was clearly fast asleep he could also tell by her little breathe. She was having a good dream. But y/n’s was up pacing the room her heartbeat quick, he could tell she was worried for him. She spot him on the windowsill instead and pulls him into her arms.

“oh! Matt” her voice gasps full of love and concern but mainly sorrow. she pulls him in for a tight hug in his weak form. “Look at you” she steps back to fully take in his appearance. He was caked in blood from head to toe. Weither it was his or someone else’s she didn’t know. He was exuasted, hair disheveled taking off his mask. She silently prayed that it was someone else’s blood on him. Glancing over at the clock, it was 3:30 am.

”sweetheart I’m sorry I-“ but he stumbles forward and you catch him barely before he hits the ground. “Ugh” he groans.

you practically drag him to the shower. She peels off his suit, stripping him down naked and turn on the shower. The lukewarm water is soothing on his skin as he sits down on the bench in the shower. A blush across his cheeks now that you decided to strip him down completely. My body heats up seeing him naked, even beat up he somehow manages to look like a Greek god. Or maybe a handsome devil would be more fitting.

“We’ve been married for 6 years and I can still make you blush, that’s says something” she jokes as she scrubs the caked blood off of him. It going down the drain in a stream of red. He is clearly out of it. Overstimulated, overwhelmed. Hes just sits there in a trance as she cleans him up.

“it’s worse than I thought” he whispers

“it’s Hell’s Kitchen of course it’s bad”

“no the blip created a power vacuum they’re back, all of them.”

he groans and leans his head back. She gently washes his hair and analyses his cuts. The water cascading across his heavenly body. His expression is pained.

I can hear them, all of them, the people I couldn’t. they’re screaming in my ears and I can’t drown it out. I’ve failed them. I’ve failed them all. I can’t do it all, I’m only one person there are dozens of them crying. Crying out for me. I’ll never be able to stop them it’ll never be enough to stop them. I’m a failure, I don’t deserve happiness. I especially don’t deserve her and angel. She could do so much better than the devil. I’m a f—

his thought loop round and round like a carousel at fair. The only thing that grounded him was her touch in his hair. A soft gentle anchor to life.

“Matt” she said sweetly her voice dripping in that honey tone that made his knees weak though he’d never admit it. And tone seems to shift in the room. “My Love, your clean now. Are you alright?”

I love her so much. I want to feel her every inch of her. I want her grounding me to earth. Her body on mine. I can tell her heartbeat picking up and her body temperature rising. She feels the same. I could listen to her voice all day. God, i love her.

there are still more days than often when he wonder ‘what did he ever do to deserve her’ and though he doesn’t know it she thinks the same.

he pulls her in for a kiss by her wrist. The kiss is hungry and desperate, full of lust and passion. But there is the signature taste of gentleness in there. When you finally break up from the long kiss, he pulls you onto his lap and and trails soft but rough kisses down her neck.

“I’m going to take you up on your offer from kitchen” he pants out with that signature devilish smirk that he always has before he takes you to bed.

“I’m all yours matty” you smile with a glint a mischief in your eyes. You know how much that nickname affects him especially when you said it in that sugary voice that you did now. He swallowed back a deep groan and kisses you eagerly to silence it.

there was no dening it, the road would be hard ahead but the two of you would go into it together. You would get through this together.

[sisterdivinium]

Genetic engineering, DNA modification, tested it on herself... Why would Jillian go through all this trouble? Adoption would be easier, surrogacy wouldn't be an issue for a woman with so much money, so why this devotion to medical science, to gene manipulation?

This doesn't seem very logical unless we take one step further in examining her characterisation as a sort of Virgin Mary character implied by her clothing and framing during season one: a man is never mentioned in connection to Michael's conception, either as donor or father... Possibly because Michael has no father. Jillian has made him up from scratch or, at least, using only her own genetic material.

This would surely equate to an awesome "medical marvel" and it would accomplish two additional things: first, it would account for just how sick Michael needs to be so that an extremely rare substance that doesn't even belong to this world can be his sole hope in surviving (the result of a miscalculation, an unforeseen mutated gene, some error in Jillian's design, the absence of something); and second, reproduction without the aid of man ("sinless", sexless) not only ties Jillian's character more closely to the theme of the holy mother, it also more strongly makes a Jesus figure out of Michael.

This is significant because it makes him into a designated saviour: Michael, too, "dies", crossing to "the other side" and later returning with the mission of saving humanity, which is the role he is sure he will play during all of season two. This story has been told before, the structure is the same and we all know it. He mirrors Christ in his being born of a woman untouched by man, in going beyond life and back, in being tasked by a higher power to act for others in his sacrifice. It is a destiny clearly written out for him, a classic narrative, a hero's journey neatly set up for Michael to accomplish and all he has to do is follow the script.

And yet, doing everything right, by the book, Michael ultimately fails.

If, according to all of the doubts awakened by the developments in Warrior Nun (is Adriel's realm not Heaven? Is he not an angel? Is Reya God? Is Jesus just as alien as Adriel? Etcetera), the Catholic church's teachings are all twisted, incomplete, when not simply ignorant of all that is true in spiritual, metaphysical matters, then this saviour narrative that constitutes the foundation of the institution itself is doomed — as well as whatever guidance it could supply.

I was discussing with @halobearerhavoc earlier about (among many other intriguing things) how myth informs the show and how it might predict Reya's fall, but also how that event would necessarily depart from how it plays out in the original myth. That is due to the fact that our protagonist here is Ava, a woman, and that this tiny little fact of sex alone forces a shift in how things are presented, in which values are prioritised, in how conflict is treated, escalated or resolved — this applies here as well.

Michael was the textbook redeemer, he was made for this, brought up by Reya with this explicit purpose and with the acquired conviction that he was the key to it all.

Ava, on the other hand, is a product of coincidence, of accident, of the unfathomable. She is already a rupture in tradition — dead and brought back, unknowingly, unwillingly the "usurper" of the halo, inserting herself in the line of bearers at random when she doesn't even seem to have any belief... Ava exists outside of tradition. To Michael's determined "Destiny", she is the one imbued with free will (it isn't out of guilt or duty that she returns to the Cat's Cradle, but through Mary's sympathy, through her own understanding and action). Ava is the unplanned factor, contrasted with Michael who was so planned that his life might have begun inside a Petri dish.

It isn't determinism that will save us, a mantle of glory woven by someone else wanting to place it upon our shoulders regardless of our own wishes; it isn't a decrepit institution or some despotic deity that will define us or what we do; it isn't the heavy, malodorous layers of ancient mould gathered over the endless tomes of Established Tradition or the carefully made calculations of arrogant scientists who think they can predict and explain and control everything.

Salvation cannot be through what Michael represents: an imposed duty, a stagnant, hackneyed story.

A story, we would do well to remember, which was already used to subjugate others, whatever its initial intentions might have been; Jillian certainly didn't predict what would be of her son and surely the primitive Christians didn't see into the future to understand what their devotion and their modes of its transmission would cause, yet it came to happen. The extermination of the Cathars, the persecution of pagans, the burning of "witches", the suppression of indigenous beliefs, activities and lives, to name but a few of the atrocities committed in the name of this one story...

So it cannot be Michael, embodying this narrative so well, that will bring about a fortunate ending to humanity's troubles.

Instead, salvation comes through Ava. She herself might be inhabited by a number of parallels with Christ, but she also carries freedom, an outsider's view which makes the inside so see-through, love, an ability to move outside of what had been previously set for her by someone else (one might even argue that these are the traits that made Christ before the story surrounding him came about)...

The walls built around her needn't contain her — and, phasing as she does, they do not.

Moreover, what would have been the real ending to Reya's plan, had it been followed exactly as it should have? The divinium bomb did hit Ava in the end, but wouldn't it have been worse had she not been interrupted in running up to Michael while he immobilised Adriel during the televised freak circus?

Ava's unpredictability, her impulse, her innate need to act with free will rather than constricted by what others dictate — Ava is the foil to fate itself, the foil to a structure, to a hierarchy that has been festering and rotting from the beginning of time, it should seem.

The hero of this story could only ever be her.

[biocrafthero]

Sorry to get like. Autistic again about religion and Omori and how the two are related BUT ANYWAYS

The church in Faraway is Catholic, right? Well, it must be noted that Catholic theology and belief says that to go to heaven one must believe in God and do good works (this is different from Protestantism btw, which believes that good works are a consequence of believing in God and following his teachings). Well, now let's take into account the achievement of the game called Universally Loved.

Something that should be noted that occurs throughout all Christian theology is that God is an all-loving being. Love the sinner, hate the sin, all that kinda stuff. Thinking about the name of the achievement, alongside these certain details in the game paralleling religious themes (like the true route exclusive secret scene called "Heaven" vs the Hikikomori route version of it called "Hell"), it all makes sense to me in this very certain way.

If you wanna think about it, the guilt Sunny has been feeling has been something he's subconsciously aware of constantly, and he doesn't become actively aware of it until near the end of the true route of the game. His life has clearly been influenced a lot by the religion he grew up around, so it'd make sense if he also subconsciously tries to find some kind of redemption through helping people. Quests in Headspace or helping people around town, it doesn't matter; in a way, he is trying to find repentance through helping people. I think a big example of this is how, immediately after rediscovering the truth, his first instinct is to help Basil.

There's also how the game has major themes of forgiveness, not just of others but of yourself. A lot of Christian theology centers around these ideas and themes, as well. I hopefully don't need to explain this one, since the idea of God forgiving someone's sins is almost universally known by most people. The idea in the game of self forgiveness being the first step to healing is something I find interesting because of this, because the first step to finding Heaven through God is admitting that one has sinned.

Some other stuff I wanna point out that I'm a little too tired is things like how Sunny is put into a world-creator position as the Dreamer and the crucifixion imagery associated with Basil but like. Yeah I hope y'all get what I mean here. Sunny continuously internalizes the religious theology he was most likely raised around from a young age. I don't believe the he himself is religious (otherwise the themes and imagery would be a lot more evident) but his life and worldview, especially in the wake of committing an actual murder, is affected by it.

[bidisasterevankinard]

Hi Diana!

I’m new around here and around this fandom, so sorry if you’ve already answered something like this.

In my opinion, I think Buddie could be in the cards, but not short/mid term, so my question is: do you think they’re gonna make Tommy stay as a serious relationship with Buck? I would love to see them make every step of the way…

Thanks!!

Hi💙 welcome to fandom and Tumblr 🫂(unfortunately I can't say it's always friendly here, but you'll find your people I'm sure 😘💙)

I think buddie wasn't in the plans of fox like romance (so before season 7). As for now, I think they consider this, to make them canon romance, but would go for it only if we will have season 9 and 10. To make it really good slow burn. Because they really need at least end this season(and knowing Eddie's arcs I suspect it will happen only in season 8) with Eddie getting through his catholic guilt. And I don't see for now reasons for Tommy not stay for season 8 to be really serious with Buck. There's big possibility of it. And as I already said it somewhere, if season 8(or possibly even season 9) the last one I can see writers, Tim and abc making Buck's endgame with Tommy so he will be ending show in good serious relationships he always craved. If season 8/9 is the last one(especially 8), I really see narratively bucktommy makes more sense especially for ga, who don't ship buddie and is ok with bucktommy, and with all growing bucktommy shippers amount. Also with really interesting interviews of Lou and Tim implying Tommy can stay for really long time and with 911abc ig official account following Lou just some days ago(but not Mar's actress), I suspect they want him in season 8 at least

Tim said that they want to make good story, not try to make story which doesn't go good, so if Buddie is in the possible cards, they wouldn't rush it

If we have season 9, at least, and even season 10, then I can see Buck and Tommy break up somewhere in season 8 (😭😭😭 most likely after half a season when we will def know about if it will be the last season or not) then I can see season 9 being pre-buddie where they are having oh moments and mutual pining and season 9 ending with them going canon. And then season 10 is them making relationships work. Then if we have more seasons they most likely stay together

[amberlynnmurdock]

Blind Faith

Chapter 8: Forgiveness

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: "So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets," Matthew 7:12.

Warnings: making out, angst, Matt's Catholic guilt and lack of accountability lol

Tags: @starry-night-20 @sumsytee @queerqueenlynn @mattmurdocksstarlight @marvelcinematiquniverse

Also, Ao3 link for anyone interested <3

Hell’s Kitchen 11 PM

It wasn’t right to keep coming to you at night, as Mike, when as your boss, everything had fallen apart. 

Matt fought with himself mentally ever since that night he last was with you—kissing your knee and giving you the space you needed. I shouldn’t be here anyway, he had told himself. Then why did he find himself crouched on his roof again, sensing with his hearing the path to your apartment? Why was he pacing back and forth on his roof, a tug of war between right and wrong, to make a decision? 

The whole thing was screwed up, he thought. He was pretending to be two different people with you: it wasn’t fair. As Matt Murdock, he had yelled at you and hurt your feelings. Of course, he wasn’t happy with himself. He let his feelings for you, as Mike, get the best of him. How was he supposed to react to hearing you’d put yourself in danger? 

God, the thought of you in that apartment complex, by yourself, with no weapon but that cheap can of mace you had on you the night he first met you. Something else echoed in Matt’s mind, that one night you’d taunted him with the willingness of throwing yourself in danger. “I’d walk into the depths of this city alone and in nothing but a sundress and wait for you to come to find me.” Matt shook his head at the memory, feeling his blood boil at the thought of you in danger, and him being absent. 

He was mad at the situation, mad at how he reacted, mad at himself. It felt really, really wrong, to ignore you in the office but still keep seeing you at night.

But if he stopped seeing you, even until things got better at the office, it might be suspicious. Especially since the two of you had fallen into a routine over the last few weeks. He wanted to apologize, to hold you and tell you the only reason he got upset was because the thought of you getting hurt made him nauseated, sick…but he can’t. Not as Mike. Not as your savior. He could only apologize to you as Matt, something he knew he had to do sooner than later.

Matt did find himself on your roof, soon enough. 

He waited for a few moments. You were in your room, wearing a soft hoodie and shorts. Your friends were just on their way out, but not before making sure you wanted to stay in. 

“Are you sure?” One of them whined. Matt listened closely to your breathing. 

“Yeah, I’ve got to study. Seriously,” You gently argued. You were half lying, Matt could tell. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards. 

“All right well, leave the kitchen light on for when we come back,” another one of them said. 

“Will do. Be safe,” you told your friends. 

Matt waited and tightened the mask on his face. He listened as your friends made their way down the elevator, onto the streets. Then, he heard you shuffle back inside your room. You slipped on your shoes and headed for the rooftop access. 

Matt waited for you by the door, head down. When he was immediately hit with your overwhelming sweet scent, he knew there was no turning back now. 

“Studying, huh?” Matt teased. 

He heard you sigh, not lightheartedly. Tiredly. 

“How can you hear that? I wasn’t lying to them,” you argued. “Not entirely.”

You stood in front of him, arms crossed. Matt gently uncrossed your arms, pulled you in, and held you tightly. He buried his face in the crook of your neck. Breathing in your sweet scent reminded him of the day he yelled at you. Well, it was always on his mind, but this transported him back to that moment. Not only was the sound of your heart banging in your chest overtaking his hearing, but it was everything else in how you reacted that became obvious to his senses: your nervous sweat, your voice quivering. The more he thought of it, the more guilty he felt. The more it became obvious he had to apologize and ask for your forgiveness. He’d get on his knees right now if he could. 

Why was he here? What was he doing to you? 

“What is it?” He suddenly heard you ask him against his chest. You stayed there for a moment until you pulled back, arms still around him. 

“Something’s bothering you,” Matt spoke softly. It’s bothering me, too. But maybe if I can talk to you like this, as Mike, I can understand. 

“Yeah…” you trailed off. “I don’t know. Do you wanna hear about it?” 

“Tell me.” 

You sighed, again, and ran a hand through your hair. 

“Well, I’m not sure you’ll be too happy either,” you began. “The other night, I was out with my friends. I wasn’t really in the mood, but I haven’t gone out in a while. It was at a Cathedral turned bar. You’d hate it—sacrilegious and whatnot. Anyway, I left to get fresh air and happened to be on the street of one of our client’s houses. I thought I’d be helping, taking pictures for her of her terrible, criminal-run apartment. But my one boss, Matt, got so mad at me,” you explained, defeated. “I’ve never been talked to like that by anyone.” 

Matt tried not to react when you said his real name. 

“Did he say why he was upset?” 

“I put myself in danger, he said. Sure, that might be true, but I did it because I wanted to help.” 

“His anger must have come from a place of wanting you to be safe,” Matt echoed his thoughts from earlier. “Maybe the very thought of you in danger is too much to bear.” 

“Well, that’s on me,” you argued, “if I want to do something risky.” 

“Your risks can affect others too, you know,” Matt replied. 

“It’s not like I mean anything to him—I’m just his summer legal assistant.” 

Oh, sweetheart. You are much more to me than that. 

“You don’t know that,” Matt whispered. 

“You wouldn’t have done the same thing I did?” You questioned. 

“I would’ve,” Matt answered truthfully, “but it’s different. You’re a young woman, who barely has experience defending herself.” 

“Well, we all start somewhere, don’t we?”

Matt ignored you. “I’m happy you are safe. You should let people know your whereabouts next time.” 

“I have the phone you gave me,” you argued. “I would’ve called you if anything had gone wrong.” 

“I—“ Matt struggled with his words, “I know. Still. Please,” Matt begged, reaching his fingertips to your jaw, “I need you to be safe.” 

You cursed under your breath, you were tired of hearing the same sentiments from everyone. 

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” Matt asked. 

“I guess I just hope he can forgive me,” you confessed. “I think that’s what’s bothering me. The guilt. I thought… he could be a mentor or something for me. But I feel like it’s ruined now.” 

“If his anger came from a place of wanting you to be safe, I am sure he feels guilty for the way he handled it,” Matt said in a strained voice. “He will forgive you.”  

“I hope you’re right.” 

Matt found your lips, pressing a light kiss on you. You slowly pulled back, feeling his lips detach from yours. 

“I am,” he whispered. 

Truthfully, it wasn’t about Matt forgiving you—it was more if you would be willing to forgive him. 

⣿⣿⣿⣿

You woke up slowly, then all at once. You had that strange feeling you got when your dream slowly fizzled into reality—it took you a moment to realize the startling beeping came from your phone alarm. 6:30 AM. Well, you didn’t want to admit it, but you knew there was no avoiding going in early for work this morning. And that meant possibly sharing the office space with Matt. 

It’s been a couple of days since he scolded you for taking pictures at Ms. Cruz’s apartment. You tried avoiding him at the office during this time, walking quickly past him when you had to, dropping his files off on his desk before he arrived, or shortly after he left…Karen told you she talked to him and said he would be apologizing, but that hasn’t come yet. You wondered if it ever would. Not that you really needed it; you just wanted things to go back to how they were. 

On your way to work, you took your time walking up the blocks of Hell’s Kitchen—you passed a bodega and went inside to grab some coffee for the office and some snacks as well: mini donuts and pastries. The old man at the counter smiled graciously at you as you dropped the change into his tip bucket. Small things like this made you feel better about heading into work. 

As predicted, you were the first person to arrive at 7:30 AM. You locked the door as you usually did and began to unpack what you bought from the bodega. You placed the box of donuts and pastries in the middle of the kitchen counter and began to refill the coffee machine. Walking to your desk, you booted up your laptop as you waited for the coffee to brew. 

Then came a knock. 

You looked up with feline reflexes and saw Matt’s silhouette in the window. His head was low as he waited for you to open up for him. After a deep breath, you walked over to let him inside.

“Good morning,” you greeted in a weaker voice than you anticipated. 

Matt pressed his lips together, in an attempt to grin. “Morning.” 

You shut the door, not locking it. 

You stood by for a moment, your hand on your opposite elbow, Matt’s back to you. You watched as he undid his jacket and hung it on the coat rack. He pulled his cane apart and felt for his jacket pocket, slipping it inside. He paused for a moment.

“How are you?” He asked turning his head. You could see his eyes peek from behind his dark red glasses. You moved your eyes to the floor. 

“Good,” you lied, “how are you?” 

“I’m all right,” he answered. “You got more coffee?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “It should be done in a bit.” 

“Okay,” Matt breathed. He placed a hand on the door frame of his office and kept his other at his waist. Suddenly, everything in the office felt tense, like you were standing in the middle of an invisible fog. You didn’t need to see it to feel it. And frankly, Matt probably didn’t either. His head was low like he was thinking of what to say. 

“When it’s done,” he began, “would you come into my office? So I can talk to you?” 

“Yeah,” you replied as lightly as you could. Hopeful. “That's fine.” 

You wanted the coffee machine to hurry up from that point on. You poured two cups of coffee—black—and entered Matt’s office, shutting the door behind you. You placed a cup in front of him, to his surprise. 

“It’s black,” you told him with a small smile. He smiled in return, moving it to the side. 

“Thank you.” 

Your cup burned in your hands, so you placed it on his desk as well. 

Matt said your name, ever so softly. You’ve never heard his voice like this. He’s spoken to you kindly before—but not softly. 

“I’m sorry for how I reacted earlier this week. I know it was unprofessional. And I know it hurt you, for me to lose my temper like that,” Matt began. He shifted behind his desk and fiddled with his tie like it was too tight around his neck. 

“I want you to know that it came from a place of wanting to keep you safe. This firm has seen the worst of Wilson Fisk. I know Karen told you about Mrs. Cardenas. And while Fisk may not have his power anymore, there’s still evil in every corner of this city. I was more upset about me not knowing you were there. And I couldn’t bare to think of what could’ve happened if anything went wrong, and I wasn’t—none of us knew,” Matt pleaded, fingers interlocked. He sighed, at the mention of what could’ve gone wrong, like the thought of it actually pained him. You felt guilty, to an extent. He was right in some ways. 

“I understand, Matt,” you spoke softly, “I know I should’ve called someone. Like I said, I wasn’t planning on doing it. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. But now I know better, to consult with you or Karen or Foggy.” 

“Honestly, I… can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same. But, please, next time, let us know. That’s all. I really… really can’t fathom if… if…” 

“I know,” you finished his thought for him. “I get it. Thank you for talking to me about it, Matt. I really appreciate it.” 

“And… I hope you can forgive me, for how I reacted. It wasn’t right. I know that,” Matt shook his head, sort of defeated. 

“Of course, I do—as long as you forgive me for going behind everyone’s back.” 

Matt held out his hand in response. You hesitated and then shook it. His hand felt surprisingly soft but strong. It was cold. He slowly retreated his hand. He smiled warmly and slid the coffee cup back in front of him. Then, a worried expression fell on his face again. 

“Your arm,” he mentioned, “I remember Karen said it was bruised. Is it okay now?” 

You’d almost forgotten about your tattoo-like bruise. It was beginning to fade, changing from blue and purple to green and yellow. It didn’t hurt anymore. 

“Oh,” you said, “yeah, it’s getting better. It doesn’t hurt.” 

“Good,” Matt nodded. 

You sat up from the chair and began to walk out, but Matt’s voice stopped you again. 

“I’m sorry,” Matt said again, “just so you know that I really regret speaking to you that way.”

You exhaled, truly feeling like a weight had been lifted off your chest. “It’s really okay, Matt. I’m just glad we can move forward.” 

He smiled and turned his attention to his Orbit reader. 

The rest of the morning went by better than you could imagine. It didn’t have to be said that Matt apologized—it was a clear indication that things were fine when Foggy and Karen noticed you going back and forth to Matt’s office, with questions about his cases and offering help on any writing. 

Things became even more solidified that all was well when Matt left a gift on your desk for you at the end of the day: a brand new leather-bound legal notepad. The color red. 

⣿⣿⣿⣿ 11:30 PM 

Now that you felt everything in your professional life was fine again, you easily fell into the warmth and excitement of seeing Mike at night. For a little, it was hard to push those things aside but walking up the steps to the rooftop access, you felt as light as a feather. 

There he was, your creature of the night, stalking the roof with his hands behind his back, dressed all in black. His face was half covered, a comfort you’ve grown used to, a feeling you knew would be hard to detach from, if you ever had to. He smiled when you entered into his graces. You grabbed him by his jaw and kissed him, hard. 

“You seem in a better mood,” Mike smiled against your kiss. You ignored him and kissed him more. 

“I am,” you affirmed, running your hands along the length of his torso. “How about you, Catholic guilt?” 

Mike laughed, and you felt the vibrations in his chest. He snaked his arms around your waist and held you against him. You moved your head so your neck was exposed. Mike ran the tip of his nose along the side of your neck, peppering kisses along the way. He stopped when he reached your ear, gently tugging it with his teeth. 

“I can never be in a bad mood when I’m with you,” he murmured in your ear. You shivered against him.

“You sure you don’t say this to all the girls you’ve saved before?” You smirked. “Our meetings have started much later lately.”

Mike growled in your ear as he held you even tighter, the joke of him being with anyone else other than you triggering him. “You’re my first stop, my last, and my only,” he said in a husky tone. He kissed your neck and pulled your hair to guide your lips to his. He kissed you and slid his tongue into your mouth. You graciously accepted. He was kissing you like he’s never kissed you before. He ran his fingers through your hair and rested his hands on the small of your back. 

“Mike,” you pulled back, breathlessly, “you know what I was thinking recently? And by recently, I mean, just moments before this?” 

“What, sweetheart?” 

“Sometimes, well, frequently, I really worry about you. I know you’ve been doing this a while, but now I feel like I have a hand in this fight. I…I’m attached to you. I feel safe with you. I worry about you.”

Mike’s jaw clenched as you spoke. Did you upset him, in some way? By being honest? 

“I know you say you worry about me and want me to be safe, but that goes both ways now. You know what I mean?” You continued, reaching up to run your finger over his bottom lip. Mike seemed to melt at the touch, unclenching his jaw. 

“Yeah,” he answered softly, “I know.” 

“I just thought you should know that now.” 

“Forgive me,” he answered almost instantly, taking your hand from his face and holding it. “For making you feel that way.” 

You looked at him confused. He kissed your knuckles.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” you said breathlessly. 

Oh, but only if you knew what there was. 

[sepublic]

Anyhow, in lieu of a recent post, I kinda wanna apply it to another fandom and say this is the reason why I don't think Emmanuel is gonna redeem himself next season, not necessarily at least. Like yeah sure he FEELS bad but to him this is a test from God or whatever so that justifies everything.

He thinks he's someone who accounts for the long-term, unlike these revolutionaries who think only about improving their short-term mortal lives, and thus forsake their long-term afterlife in heaven in the process. Emmanuel think he's long-term and he's gonna outmaneuver Erzsebet, who will be so caught up in using his night creatures to crush the rebellion that she'll fail to account for what happens afterwards when Emmanuel can just turn on her. He thinks he's fucking Solomon with the ring that can control demons.

Emmanuel is just gonna bitch and moan and weep about all the sacrifices he's making but it's the GOOD kind of suffering, like how Christ had to suffer and make sacrifices, because it's a test from God. He compared himself to Abraham and he was even rewarded with a ram in Tera for his devotion!!! So he could absolutely interpret this as proof he's on the right path and double down.

Emmanuel is such a mediocre father. It's heartbreaking that for all of her teenage rage and rebellion, Maria still earnestly cares for him once she finds out he's her dad, she risks it all in trusting him because surely her own dad will come around for her, and she cares!!! She cares for family!!! And then Maria is burned so hard for that trust, she saw Emmanuel weep about sacrificing her and then do it anyway. Maria lost her own mother, a parent who actually cared, because she dared to assume her dad had the same basic decency as Tera did. She's gonna know better, the poor girl... But at what cost?

And Emmanuel is gonna be Oh Woe Is Me!!! when he sees what his beloved has become. But in the end his Christian savior complex matters more than anything else, even if he DOES care for other things. Because if he truly cared for Maria from the start, he'd have quit his position to focus on raising his daughter. But instead he continued to neglect her, and then endanger her with his night creatures, and then finally outright sacrifice Maria. Because being the Christian savior who saves everyone's immortal souls, at the low cost of their mortal lives, matters more. Like god he must've had a savior complex about providing Tera hospitality when they first met.

"You're not gonna spare them, are you?" Shut the fuck up Emmanuel you're gonna cry yourself to sleep over this and then the next morning decide that you've fulfilled your daily Catholic Guilt quota and can go back to being a dickhead because you feel bad so obviously that proves you're a good person right???

And from a meta standpoint, I suspect Emmanuel is the show's version of Shaft, who was a major villain who died resurrecting Dracula and successfully inflicted real damage against the Belmonts for like two hundred years. The similarities between Emmanuel and Shaft are too many and obvious, and it'd be redundant to introduce Shaft when Emmanuel is right there as the evil priest. I suspect they changed his name because Shaft has juvenile connotations in English that the Japanese creators who came up with Shaft weren't aware of, especially when pulling from the German language.

Granted, Isaac changed quite a bit from his game counterpart, as someone who DID die resurrecting Dracula in the source material; But otherwise, the creative liberties is further support for Emmanuel being Shaft in spite of the differences. I don't think Emmanuel will start worshipping Dracula as a coping method; The show kinda burned the bridge with Dracula as a villain, and there isn't really a meaningful connection nor reason for Emmanuel to latch onto that guy in particular.

More likely, he'll latch onto the demon (probably Galamoth) who gave him the forgemaster machine, and that demon will read Emmanuel like an open book -an even easier read than the instruction manual for the machine it provided- and feed into his savior complex, into his self-perception of himself as a tortured and misunderstood genius or some shit. The demon will stroke Emmanuel's ego as salve after the humiliation of S1's finale, and Emmanuel is gonna snort it like copium until he's convinced this demon is an asset sent by God to assist him; Just as Solomon's demons were. He's gonna be played like a fiddle by some higher demon AGAIN be shocked about it. Again.

[punkeropercyjackson]

Catholic Jason Todd reeks for reasons i've already stated(Steals Helena's thing + Ruins the point of his Red Hood days having zero guilt to them until his redemption arc and thus weakens it)but tbh an additional one for me is that i'm a Jason kinnie and that includes being an afro-dominican who was raised in latino christianity and i have zero guilt over abandoning it because 95% of the time it's just used as an excuse to be a bigot and perpetuate generational trauma so i don't have interest in or poditive feelings towards it.Jason's opinion on it taking our similarities and him going through all That in canon into account is probably something like 'I hope God dies' /meme ref

[vivelarevolution13]

Helloho, for the ask game:

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

and

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

Thank you! :)

Hi hi, thanks for the ask! <3 🔪 ⇢ oh man, not sure if this is that much of a weird one (or I just don't know what's normal anymore), but I do have several leaked CIA manuals saved as PDFs on my computer?? mostly just bc it's informative & horrifyingly eyeopening in general. I like to research a lot of sociopolitical stuff, or at least I try to, so a lot of highly specific Cold War/WWII/present day intelligence apparatus things tend to end up in my search history. Other than that not to go the "winter soldier + red room umbrella" cop out route, but...winter soldier + red room umbrella. Lots of layman's psychiatry & neuroscience, accounts of drug effects/use, lots of "asking for a friend but theoretically what would happen to your body long term if you had XYZ happen to you and walked away", waaay too much on JFK/other assassinations, lots of stuff on weapons specs and indoctrination and "gangs in St Petersburg in the 1980s?" and stuff like that.

Also like... which kinds of birds were native to NYC in the early 20th century and the relevance of catholic socialism in working class circles and medical papers on the side effects of the use of stramonium in asthma cigarettes, lol. (That might be one of the more specific ones, objectively.)

Again, this all feels pretty typical for Cap fics so idk how weird it is (and it's just a fun learning experience overall and mostly doesn't even end up in the writing) but I feel like my IP's on a lot of very confused yet suspect government lists at this point.

🧩 ⇢ oof, this one is rough. I try to always give fics with a good desc & tags benefit of the doubt, but I've also been around long enough that I can kind of tell if something's going to put me off, y'know? I guess I'm not a big fan of infantilizing adult characters or coddling relationships, especially if it's presented as an unproblematic given. I like softness as much as the next person, and I'm all for protectiveness and loyalty and comfort being at the core of both friendships and romantic relationships, but I like when it's a mutual thing that was arrived at after some time or even after it being a point of conflict/misunderstanding bc people deal with this stuff in many weird, differing, sometimes counterproductive ways.

In stevebucky fics esp while I love that element between them, I'm really not huge on Bucky bundling pre-serum Steve up to hide him away from the mean mean world, primarily because I think it would make Steve want to bludgeon him with a shovel for it repeatedly and Bucky would know that, and vice versa for them post-CATWS + dealing with each other's guilt (+ even and maybe especially the Sam-Steve relationship as it pertains to that as well). Which is not to say that I don't love to read about these conflicts being explored or a good "I want to help you PLEASE let me help you"/"you shut the fuck up and sit in the corner and hold my hand while I deal with my shit on my own" dynamic even if it's borderline unhealthy or codependent at a point - I just think it takes a bit of friction to make it interesting to read about and for it to arrive at a satisfying point in the end.

[beautifulterriblequeen]

One thing I've noticed is how some people are always villainizing and demonizing Runaan and Ethari, seeing them as nothing but the worst, most awful parents in the show. Saying things like "they don't deserve Rayla or her forgiveness at all." They don't love her or even care about her at all," "she was never important to them." "She deserves better parents who actually love, appreciate, and defend her." While I admit, in all honesty, that I've enormously condemned both of them for the choices and decisions, how they contributed to Rayla's losses, sorrow, and heartbreak, but I feel that it's way too extreme and way too harsh.

But I also believe that they've been obviously hurting and suffocating from the brutality of their horrendous punishments for their own failures. Because I feel that Rayla will be incredibly unforgiving towards them because at some point, she'll have to deeply process and sincerely express all her harsh, angering, heavy, resentful feelings towards Runaan and Ethari. Maybe during these two years, Rayla has probably convinced herself so deeply that they never loved her nor cared about her, and even if they're effortlessly apologizing to her, pouring all heart and soul into every single apology, her mind tells her things such as "disregard every apology they made, do not believe them nor trust them." "Why should she believe them if they never believed her?" Something along those lines.

Just wanted to give my own speculation because, yes, Rayla's had her mistakes, but Runaan and Ethari had even greater failures and bigger wrongdoings. Because I know that the show will address Rayla, not only confronting her own true sentiments towards both of them, but Ethari and Runaan being hit where it really hurts them them the most: with the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

This is in no way me hating on them. I adore Runaan and Ethari, but I don't want the show to let them off the hook for how they technically abandoned Rayla because they need to be held accountable and responsible for what happened.

In your honest perspective, BTQ, how do they even go about reconciling and repairing their relationship with Rayla? I genuinely hope that there can love, acceptance and forgiveness again, especially from Rayla. It'll be very hard for her, but I believe all 3 of them will overcome this. I have faith in them.

Apologies for the long post. Much love, fam.

Hey, thanks for your honest thoughts. I think we might have different perspectives on the idea of atonement/forgiveness/redemption, but that's okay. Since you were kind enough to share your thoughts, let me return the favor!

At the heart of my perspective is simply this: the more catholic we are in trying to shame and guilt people into admitting they messed up, the less likely they are to ever admit out loud that they were wrong (even if they want to). And that fear of rejection, of being shamed, keeps real change from getting started.

We get to be mad when we are hurt. We get to advocate for ourselves, to defend ourselves. And Rayla might have some feelings about her dads that she wants to yell at them about. But maybe she doesn't. Maybe she's not even looking back, or maybe it's been resolved and we'll see it in a flashback with Ethari or something. We don't know yet. She hasn't really spoken on the topic, and it might take her a while to do so.

The issue of intent should matter, too. TDP is a hopepunk story, and that carries certain themes that I'd love for more people to look for and enjoy:

resilience - as forgiveness or growth

imperfection - familiar to everyone, messier options and solutions

earnestness - folks are just folks, no evil masterminds

good and evil - not a state of mind but a series of choices

community - everyone still cares for their group/others

As we wait for S5 (and the rest of the series) to drop, it feels a little risky to me to pin so much personal expectation on it to deliver extremely specific emotional rewards like this. S5 was written, gosh, maybe a couple years ago? I don't know exactly, but it's been a minute, and we just got S4 - and its expectations - last November. Animation is a really really long process!

I'm content to wait and see what happens next. TDP doesn't work for me, and they don't have to do what I want, and it's too late to make any S5 changes now anyway, so I will take what I am given and appreciate it for the story it is, actually. I love this show, and I respect the people who work hard to create it. And there's really nothing more I feel I need to add to that, so that's where I'll stop.

Okay, I lied, one last thought! Bahaha.

Rayla already knows what it's like to be mistrusted by her dads. She did get angry at them about it.

For about 10 seconds.

Ethari confessed, and Rayla forgave them and had tea with them, snuggled up safe and sound, at home where she was loved.

It wasn't a big deal. They talked about it, they were honest, and they found a way to move forward together as a family. It took 3 panels - a single page - of BH to address it.

If there is a next time for confrontation, it will probably go at least a bit differently, if for no other reason than Rayla is several years older and has matured as a person. But this is her precedent for conflict resolution with Runaan and Ethari, specifically.

If everyone wants it to work out, it'll probably work out. If someone wants to be Right, or to be a Victim, or to make Drama, then that'll probably happen instead. But I covered my expectations up in the hopepunk stuff, so that's what I'm expecting from anything similar: everyone will at least want to resolve their grievances.

[djuvlipen]

Did you hear about the Pilar barbie situation on TikTok where it was a white women lying about being Romani and created a whole make-up business off the lie 😭

GIRL omg 💀💀 gossiping about Pilar is one of my favourite activities...

She has a lot of lore so I'm going to walk you through all I can remember

For the people who don't know her, Pilar was an American tiktoker who made videos about Romani issues (this is the only remaining picture of her I found on tiktok)

From what I remember, she was already there in 2020 during COVID times when I became active on Romani internet. I don't even remember when she got really popular, it must have happened gradually or something but she was one of the biggest Romani 'internet activists' alongside Florian and Brooke (in the early days).

Sometimes she also dressed more 'traditional'

which... really just looks like she was putting on a costume. anyway I don't have more recent pictures from her tiktoks as she suspended her account but the way she wore a headscarf and golden jewellery to try and emulate being Romani was already pretty messed up and unnecessary, as a lot of Romani women dont wear either of these things in the first place

I don't remember what group she was originally claiming to be from, but that's the point, she kept changing it. Except that she did so over a very slow period of time and by making only vague references about her heritage so it was hard to catch on. Anyway, over the past 4 years I have heard her say she was:

Russian Romani

Polish Romani

Crimean Romani

Gitana/Spanish Romani

Sinti

Manush, to be even more specific

Mixed Eastern European Romani + Manush

And that is all I specifically remember but I wouldn't be surprised if she also had a kalderash or lovari arc at some point 💀 anyway, after a while I started noticing things weren't adding up and her heritage was very vague and that was weird. Not to be mean, but she is also American, and I always feel way, way more cautious when it comes to American Roma than European Roma, Romani racefakers are almost always American because no European in their right mind would think it's cool to pretend to be romani 😭😭

Anyway, what really made it for me was the stuff she used to say on tiktok. Some of it was just blatantly not true. I almost lost my mind during her Sinti arc because she said stuff like "Sara e Kali isn't a big religious figure for Sinti people", "Sara e Kali isn't a catholic romani figure", and then she also pretended to have ties to some famous Sinti people when i know for a fact that is not possible... But I can't say more about that because that would be too doxx-y... She also said some more bs about Sinti people and I corrected her in the comments and she tried to follow me and it was so cringe

Then I also knew she was toxic because she would harass Romani women on tiktok and I remember at least one instance when she insulted a European Romani woman by saying, "you claim to be Romani but you dress like a hoe, you're just a gadji because Romani women respect ourselves by covering up"....

Two other things that didn't sit right with me was her clntent. She would talk a lot about anti Roma racism in Europe, which was great, she would talk about news no one else talked about. But she had a very guilt-trippy and angry way to talk about it that made it look like she was overdoing it and mocking the way antiracist activists talk, just to get engagement. It didn't feel genuine. And also, she would put ads for her make up brand and Cosplays of her as Wanda Maximoff between tiktoks about pogroms and police brutality. It all looked like a scam and like she was doing some traumaporn just for people to buy her stuff

And she also bullied Brooke so hard that she never came back on Tiktok, even though she (Brooke) had been the OG Romani tiktoker, had even been featured in Romea (a Romani newspaper), and was genuinely half Romani. And why? Because she is white passing? That's stupid, Pilar was allegedly white passing herself

(the way so many Romani tiktokers turned their back against Brooke was super disgusting btw, I don't know her personally but from what I've heard she is a very nice person)

Anyway, by 2022 I knew for sure Pilar was lying. That year I got in touch with other Romani girls and women online and we discussed it and they also all knew that Pilat was lying. Her being a racefaker was pretty much an open secret, at least among (chronically) online Romani people. Except that none of us could call her out, because she was very popular and extremely toxic. I can't even tell you how toxic she was. She had a circle made up of other American Romani women and they bullied tons of Romani people online, and guess what these romani people had in common!

Most of them were women

Most of them had a complicated family history

A lot of them were white passing (really tho, being white passing seems to be a problem ONLY when you are a woman. white passing Romani men never receive any hate)

A lot of them were LGB

And these American Roma bullied them, made a lot of them suicidal (seriously, I've heard several accounts of Pilar's bullying victims becoming suicidal), because they allegedly weren't 'romani enough'.

So, obviously, neither me nor any of my friend could call her out because we weren't nowhere as popular and we were all LGB romnia.

But then came FLORIAN. Literally the only person who could put a stop to her shenanigans. Ngl, I think only Florian, a straight, American Romani man with a big platform could have stopped her. And I am so glad he did, because she really made being Romani on the internet very stressful. I was so scared she would come to Tumblr one day lmao. Anyway, I have a lot of bones to pick with Florian but that was his biggest W. Here is his tiktok btw:

[quetzalpapalotl]

(making this one its own post, but for context, it is about my humanformers hc of IDW1 Prowl being raised Catholic)

Yeah, yeah!! That's what I was trying to get at in the first post. Prowl is miserable, not only does he dislikes the things that he does for the greater good, but he also doesn't seem to do much that he actually enjoys that's not being petty. He puts up with it because he thinks that he should and is proud of it. This is what he expects of himself, so that's what he expects of other people. Alleviating their pain is not his priorty. He crunchs numbers in a way that doesn't account for that.

And even tho this is all for the sake of fulfiling his vision of peace (the kingdom of heaven lol), I think even that would demand some heavy sacrifice to be maintained. Again, Prowl thinks that people have a place and that they should disregard any discomfort and stick to it for things to work, also because Cybertronians suck.

I keep saying that Rewind doesn't oppose to CD injecting because it's inmmoral, in Rewind's absolutist views, CD Is Good Now, so he won't do the bad kind of mnemosurgery. He opposes it because it's bad for Chromedome's health and canon repeatedly shows us that's true. This isn't really something Prowl ever enganges with when trying to get CD to inject again. Chromedome is not only a good mnemosurgeon, he's the best. He should put those abilities to use, regarless of pain. Just like how Prowl puts his own tactical abilities to use to the detriment of any joy in his life. (Something, something, Prowl meant for Ostaros to die, even if he couldn't do it himself).

And also Chromedome can't change, because Cybertronians can't change because they suck, that's why they need structure and self-denial for things to work. And if Prowl (who is better) cannot change, then neither can CD (who is like Prowl).

In contrast, CD is your more stereotypical Catholic guilt. "I deserve all the bad things because I'm a terrible person". The key difference between him and Prowl is that CD doesn't take pride in his own pain. Chromedome doesn't want to suffer, but he will take it because he's too depressed and passive to do anything about it and doesn't think he deserves better. This is most notably in things regarding Rewind. And yet, Chromedome will try to avoid pain when he can. He stays with Rewind even when he doesn't think he deserves him. Going so far as to lie for it, which makes him more undeserving. He tries to avoid the pain of mourning by erasing his own memories. Hell, the thing that convinced him to needle Overlord was Rewind almost dying ("What happened to Rewind? It would never happen to anyone else."). CD is detached, but he doesn't consider suffering a virtue, only deserved. And he will try to get around that, which will make him all the more guilty and it's a vicious cycle.

Anyway, hf prowldome grew up in the same extremely Catholic town and had a very awkward relationship due to internalized queerphobia and they both came out of that place messed up for the same reasons with different outcomes.

[emorystarling]

Person: @danteragnulf Location: silent hill probably note: he said "im sorry my bestie did this to us" August out of his face and no longer taunting him gave him more time to think, to glance around at the other cells. "Hey, you alright?" It's rhetorical, they're all fucked until somebody comes to break them out of there, Emory feels pretty confident in that. On account of knowing August and the sickening fact that he wound up getting away with just about everything. If whatever had been talking to had even been August in the first place, he's not sure anymore. But he does think, on account of what he's starting to realize is perhaps something akin to Catholic guilt, that he's somewhat to blame for not somehow being able to talk the necromancer down from the edge. "Alive, at least?"