#church guy in pope hat

[birdofjupiter]

when the order’s choir sings, will he still hear the harmony? false virtuoso; oh mournful conductor, do you still hear the robin’s cries?

[cryptidghostgirl]

Make You Wish Chapter Four -- Vox

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: I don't think there are any for this chapter? Correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 1,225

Previous Part: Chapter Three -- A Reunion

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

Make You Wish Master List

A/N I wasn't planning on posting this until tomorrow, but it seems to have some rather excited fans so here is chapter four (and the fourth thing I'm publishing today. We're very done for the day. I am tried and have actual work to do.) Also guys, I'm screaming. I accidentally deleted the whole things right before I was gonna post it. Thankfully I had a draft from when it was almost done save but like, god that sucked.

On the screen was Vox, seated behind a desk.

"Top of the hour and we're discussing a certain has-been how has been spotted cavorting around town after a seven year absence." Vox was saying, a poorly drawn image of Alastor displayed on the screen to his left.

Y/n saw Alastor's ear twitch with irritation.

"Yeah." she sighed, folding her arms across her chest, "Vox has gone kinda crazy since you left. I told you, things got tough."

"Did anybody miss him? Did anybody notice? More on tonight's program." Vox said through the TV, shuffling a stack of papers.

Alastor changed the channel with another flick of his finger.

"Hun, don't worry yourself with it." Y/n advised, "He's still gonna be there tomorrow."

The new channel showed a talk-show set up, Vox-2-Nite, where Vox was both host and guest.

"So, the old Radio Demon is back in town." host Vox was saying to himself as guest.

"Why is he hanging around?" guest Vox asked, taking a sip from a mug that had 'fuck Alastor' written on the side.

"Al." Y/n warned, sensing her friends irritation growing.

"What does that mean for your family?" Host Vox asked before Alastor changed the channel again.

Vox was on the screen again, before a bright red curtain.

"Well, handily, I've got good news." he was saying theatrically, "He's a loser, a fossil, and I don't mean to sound hostel-"

Alastor changed the channel again. This time to one of Vox's mega church broadcasts. Vox stood in the center of the screen wearing a pope's hat with an inverted cross on it.

"But the demon is a coward!" he announced, his words matching the previous channels sentiments perfectly.

"Jesus, V." Y/n asked, eyes wide, "How many channels are you running this on?"

"You can take that as gospel. Pulling my viewers? Impossible. I'm visual, he's barely audible."

"Y/n." Alastor hummed, his eyes still fixed on the screen.

"Yeah?"

"You wont mind if I handle this quickly. We can have our little chat after, I promise. It wont take more than a moment."

"I don't know, Al..." Y/n sighed, crossing her arms and tapping her foot slightly, "This isn't good for you, letting him get under your skin like this."

Alastor changed the channel again. A cooking show appeared and Vox was standing before the oven, singing along to the music playing in the background.

"But he should've stayed away! While he hid in radio, we pivoted to video!"

Vox on screen turned to the oven as he sang, opening it and pulling out a deer's head on a plate. Y/n bristled at the site, her horns growing just the tiniest bit longer, her teeth just the smallest bit sharper.

"And now his medium is getting bloody rare!"

"Al?" Y/n asked sharply.

"Yes, darling?"

"I lied." Y/n turned to face him, "He took this shit musical. Rip him a new one."

"Oh!" Millie exclaimed, excitedly grabbing onto Moxxie's arm, "We're gonna get a show!"

Alastor's grin widened at Y/n's words, if that was even possible. He stuck his hand out to the side, his microphone materializing in his grasp.

"Lucky for me, I've got the best voice this side of the divide on my side." he noted, shooting Y/n a look.

Her eyes flashed red.

"You flatter me."

Alastor brought his microphone to his mouth, suddenly exceedingly calm. The imps present in the room watched in shock as his ears flattened along his head.

"Salutations, good to be back on the air!" he announced into the device, "Yes I know it's been a while since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast. Sinners rejoice!"

Vox's brow furrowed on the TV screen as he inched up close to the camera.

"What a dated voice." Vox shot back, clearly listening to Alastor's broadcast on the set of his cooking show.

"Instead of a clout chasing, mediocre, video podcast." Alastor continued, not showing any sign he had noticed the TV demon's insult, "Is Vox insecure, pursuing allure? Flitting between this fad and that, is nothing working?"

"Ignore his chirping!" Vox commanded from the TV.

Y/n laughed and, turning to face Alastor, realized the man held a hand out to her. With a smile, she took it and he spun her into his arms as he spoke. The music echoed through the office as Alastor raised the volume on the TV once again.

"Every day he's got a new format."

Alastor spun Y/n back out again as the pair began dancing.

"You're looking at the future!" Vox yelled back, "He's the shit that comes before that!"

As Alastor spun Y/n back into his arms, she laid one of her hands on top of his holding the microphone and pulled it closer to her face.

"Is Vox as strong as he purports, or is it based on his support?" she sang in a clear voice, Blitzo, Millie, and Moxxie's eyes widening with recognition at the sound, "He'd be powerless without the other Vees."

"That's true!" Alastor noted, pulling the microphone back to himself as Y/n let go of his hand and he spun her back out again.

"It can't be..." Moxxie muttered under his breath.

"Holy shit!" Millie cut him off, excitement creeping into her voice, "There's no way, Y/n is the guest star?"

"The fuck are you two talking about?" Blitzo asked, turning to Millie and Moxxie as they watched the couple continue to dance.

"Well, Sir," Moxxie began, fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket, "back before the Radio Demon went missing, he used to bring guests onto the show on occasion. There was one guest he never named during his broadcasts however. She mostly just sang songs and chatted with him but, she sounded an awful lot like Y/n did just now."

"You don't say." Blitzo hummed, his arms crossed as he turned back to Y/n and Alastor, "So much for little miss 'oh, my life has been so boring. You'd probably just fall asleep if I started talking about it!' She is so gonna get it later."

Alastor let go of Y/n's hand and leaned into the microphone, beginning to sing as well, using the music emanating from the TV as a base.

"And here's the sugar on the cream: he asked me to join his team!"

"Hold on!" Vox yelled.

"I said no and now he's pissy, that's the tea!" Alastor finished, ignoring the demon once again.

"You old timey prick!" Vox exclaimed, his face glitching slightly as Y/n wandered back over to Alastor.

She leaned an elbow on his shoulder, tilting her head to the side in amusement as they watched Vox struggle.

"I'll show you suffering!"

"Aww, the TV is buffering." Y/n said, leaning into the microphone, her voice dripping with sickly sweet pity.

"I'll destroy yoo-o-u-u" Vox exclaimed as his technical difficulties seemed to grow worse.

Alastor and Y/n exchanged a wicked pair of smiles as the TV flickered out. Shadows crept from the edges of the room, encircling their feet. Alastor held an arm out to Y/n once again which she took with a smile. In a flash of darkness, they were gone.

"What the fuck was that?" Loona asked, stalking into the room.

----

Next Part -> Chapter Five -- The Conversation

[seat-safety-switch]

Many, many years ago, the Catholic church had a problem: fake Popes. In the time before the internet, any group of rich assholes could get together, grab a random dude off the street, and declare him to be the Pope. Back then, you couldn’t even call (not even landline!) the Vatican to check this maybe-Pope’s credentials, and unless he acted extremely suspiciously, it was hard not to justify giving him whatever he (and his backers) asked for. He’s the Pope! If you don’t do what he says, God will force your daughter to eat your ribs or something like that.

Sure, a lot of these anti-Popes eventually did get busted. Lots of them took advantage of the massive power that was presented to them through fraud, and eventually the patience of the locals plumb ran out. It’s a pretty big deal to have the Pope visit your shitty town, even now, and so eventually the church would find out and send a small army to kill you and your friends. Sometimes they didn’t get there in time, because local warlords decided that the Pope (you) was probably trying to invade their country and decided to grease them first, only to end up doing the real Pope a solid.

Although I’m too lazy to check Wikipedia or even call the local diocese, I’m pretty sure that a decent number of these guys did get away with it, though. Real smooth operators would have known how to deal with certain sticky situations, like meeting people who had met the Pope already and knew he wasn’t 6′3″ and constantly drunk. As long as you didn’t make too much noise, and especially if you were somewhere that didn’t receive a lot of news or couriers, you could comfortably pretend to be a low-key pontiff for as long as you wanted. Your rich buddies would become richer buddies, and you’d get to wear a big hat. Good trade, the kind of relationship that doesn’t exist with employers today.

Why am I bringing this up now, you ask? Well, you might have noticed that I’ve been working at this O’Reilly Auto Parts with you for quite some time. And I have been asking you to log into the register for me, because I keep forgetting my password. I agree that that is suspicious. However, I think if you step in the back, you can meet some folks who will definitely assure you that I am in fact the head manager of this store, and you can help them load this unmarked, plateless van with all the Holley carbs we can sneak past that security camera.

No, no, no. Not the billet valve covers, that’s too flashy. Have you not listened to a word I’ve been saying?

[non-binar-ysunset]

Hi my name is Claude Righ’teous Catholic Crusader Frollo and I have a pious gray bowl cut (that's how I got my name) and a distinguished aquiline nose and icy dark eyes like Christ’s empty tomb and a lot of people tell me I look like His Holiness Pope Sixtus IV (AN: if u don't know who he is get da hell out of here!). I'm not related to Saint Jerome but I wish I was because he's my favorite early church father. I'm a medieval guy but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin and really big eye bags because I pray to Beata Maria all night instead of sleeping, because sloth is a sin. I'm also a judge, and I work at the Palace of Justice in France. I'm a righteous man (in case you couldn't tell) and I wear mostly black. I love the cathedral sacristy and I take all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a black velvet robe with matching cape around it and weird epaulets, dark purple hose and pointy black shoes. On my head was my favorite hat, which is a big black and purple triangle with a long satiny red sash. I was walking outside Notre Dame. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A bunch of revellers were throwin da feast of fools outside. i put up my middle finger at them.

[rangercorpstherapy]

ok weird question, but like, virginity in these books?? it's the medieval period so it was customary and expected (and scandalous if you don't) to save yourself till marriage but like, Commandant Crowley Meratyn gives off major 'guy who fucks' energy so I supposed that it's just irrelevant??

also Halt and Pauline had sexual tension for 15 fuckin years, and Will and Alyss dated for 7 years, and Gilan and Jenny dated for-- my god they're STILL dating.

someone explain

the view on virginity and sexuality differs between the Early Middle Ages and Late Middle Ages, it also depends on if the subject is nobility or not.

At the start of the Middle Ages, there wasn't as much sexual freedom as nowadays but there was certainly much less taboo on the topic. People were still connected with their old traditions and ways even though they were introduced to/and or practising Christianity. There wasn't as much of a pearl-clutching 'oh no an ankle' sex fear in the Middle Ages as people think. Yes, clergy swore oaths of celibacy and nobility were expected to stay chaste (although this expectation rested more on women than on men). For noble families, it was important to be absolutely sure that that was your baby because you couldn't just do a DNA test. Kinda important if you want to keep the family in power and make sure the bloodline continues undisputed.

Back to the pearl-clutching, it was not sex people were afraid of. There was no taboo on nudity (partly because one didn't have much privacy back then) and sex was even a source of public entertainment, for example in plays or on fairs. It was more pregnancy that was the issue. Bastards weren't treated very well along with their mothers (many choosing to leave their children in orphanages), noble bastards were dealt better cards, they could inherit and would often be seen as valuable enough that they could be used in marriage pacts. This period of vague sex is ok just be careful came to a very abrupt end because of reformations in the Church. Remember what I said about clergy having to be celibate...yeah let's just say they were not doing that. To the point of having 'wives' and kids, not even sneakily, they lived with them in a house, like a family. This was an issue from average priest to bishop. One of the many reforms was meant to make sure that calibates were calibating and put stricter measurements in place. Nuns were forced to live more secluded (before they took a very active role in the life around the convent), and convents became closed off for outsiders. Through efforts from the Pope, sex became demonized and women were presented as evil seductresses and the root of all evil evil desire. I don't think it was the same reforms but around the same time all bastards were stripped of any claim to inheritance and even if fathers claimed them they could not be legitimized. Making having bastards/being one even more taboo.

But even with all that were the Middle Ages not the most anti sex period in western history. The idea of "having sex before marriage is the end of the world and God will strike you down and dance upon your remains we are scared to hold hands with the opposite sex" came during the 16th century with the rise of STDS and would continue well into the Victorian era.

Back to the question.

It's hard to say when RA takes place, having some more modern technology but still having many characteristics of the High Middle Ages (lack of agricultural reforms, strong feudal system and a lack of cities). I am guessing that when RA took place it was around the same time the reforms were spreading (give or take a few decades maybe).

So to finally answer the question:

Crowley is saving himself for nobody, fucked till his heart gave out that's why he died with a smile on his face. Front-row seats to those sex plays at fairs. Always complaining about the good ol' days when you could get laid without some guy in robes and a hat having an opinion about it. Also, he's gay so it's not like he has to worry about populating Araluen with many handsome redhead babies (although he is a bit disappointed he can't be of service in that aspect of course).

Alyss and Will (all the ward kids for that matter) are sooo bastards to me. Bullied by the other kids you say??? Needing special protection or else they would have no one in the world you say??? People knowing they fornicated in the vineyard would not make their reps worse. Those bitches did NOT care, they fucked around day and night and would just get shotgun married if it was necessary. What is anyone going to do? How dare you and your scary wizard boyfriend part of an elite scary people group whom we are all collectively deeply afraid of have sex!

Halt was heir to the throne and probably had some speeches about how not to waste his royal seed on just anyone, to be careful and was so culture-shocked meeting Crowley and Pauline that he needed 15 years to recover.

[bizarre-blorbo-bracket]

Round 1 poll 12: Lleu Llaw Gyffes from Welsh mythology vs The Penitent One from Blasphemous

Propaganda under the cut:

Lleu Llaw Gyffes:

His name is “the blonde guy with good aim” in old Welsh. Like that isn’t the meaning of his name, his name is LITERALLY “Blonde Guy With Good Aim” because he and his morally dubious wizard surrogate father had to trick his absent mother into giving him a name and that was the best he could get away with. He had a wife literally created out of flowers specifically to be his wife and he was such a cold neglectful husband that she cheated on him and then murdered him with the help of her lover. He is invulnerable UNLESS he is: pierced with a lance that was crafted only on Sundays over the span of a year AND it’s thrown at him whilst he’s straddling a river with one foot on the back of a goat. And he STILL doesn’t manage to avoid getting killed because his wife goes “Lleu I’m so worried about you :(((( won’t you show me the very specific manner in which someone could murder you…to ease my mind” and he didn’t find this suspicious at all so immediately demonstrated it to her and then was surprised when her lover pops out and chucks the lance at him. He doesn’t die but instead turns into a hawk which iirc is NEVER EXPLAINED. Then when his wizard turns him back into a human he hunts down his wife’s lover and manages to kill him by throwing a lance THROUGH THE SOLID ROCK the lover is hiding behind. Obsessed with him. Obsessed with the way he undoes everything good in his life by fixating on undoing the damage his mother did to him. I am such a Lleu apologist even though no-one is arguing against me.

The Penitent One:

Blasphemous is a somewhat obscure indie soulslike game which takes place in a fantasy version of 13th century Spain, posing a world where the miracles and fantastical images of catholic mythology and art are literal and happen to everybody constantly. Dedication to the holy forces that rule the land grants power, while sinning against them can physically disfigure or kill someone- the arbitrary rules surrounding virtue and sin in the collective consciousness from which these holy forces stem make this a chaotic and even apocalyptic setting. The gory visuals, difficult gameplay, and dense 13th century language make this a difficult to make into a fandom kind of game. I think there’s like one or two other people on tumblr that I’ve seen that are obsessed with it to the same degree? Anyway, the main character, The Penitent One, is a monk whose whole order has been excommunicated and subsequently executed by the church for their possession of a forbidden artifact. As he makes his way through his pilgrimage to the archcathedral to throw hands with the pope and also god itself if possible, he treats people with compassion, lays the bones of travelers far from home to rest, and violently executes the denizens of the holy miracle who have become literally larger than life in their zealous worship of an unjust god. In doing so, his guilt over the execution of his order transmutes into something holy in and of itself, and he begins to take on the guilt of others until he is a martyr powerful enough to rival the holy miracle. I care so much about his story and the world he occupies! Also he has a silly pointy hat <3

[boredkaiju]

We'll trample the serpents! Amen! Amen!

I've officially added the mech of Pope Leo XXI to my #Battletech mini collection! Wanted this one for a while now. I'm considering painting the other minis from the set with either Templar or Swiss Guard colors. I'm not sure if I'll add the comically mech-sized pope hat that this mech is often portrayed with or not. It might be a bit of a hassle to make, and I feel like I prefer the standard mech look.

And yes, I know Pope Leo XXI canonically fights alongside the Knight's Defensor. HOWEVER, the Knight's Defensor mechs are very blue and i have too many blue mechs in my collection already, lol. Hey, it's not my fault Clan Ghostbear is the best clan and they just happen to have blue mechs!

I'm just gonna add I still think it's immeasurably based that Christianity not only exists in the Battletech setting, but is portrayed positively. It fills my heart with joy seeing a story where the Church is portrayed as a "good guy" faction. It feels so rare these days.

[quasi-defender]

about my HOND Modern Day AU

on Quasi he was adopted by Frollo at the age of 4

he is autistic he saved the crown of thrones from the Cathedral fire. he was made a monsignor by Pope Francis due to his bravery, then he was made a titular archbishop of Paris, then a cardinal the first layperson to be one

his title church in Rome is San Benito on Calude Frollo

he was ordained a priest by Cardinal Lustiger (a irl dude who is not the guy in IRL even though he's dead now)

he was made an Auxiliary Bishop of Paris in 2007

he was archbishop of Paris for only nine months before Quasi yeeted him from the roof

he had a very short temper on Michel Aupetit (THIS IS NOT THE GUY IN IRL, HE IS MY OWN INTERPARTAION OF HIM, THE GUY IN IRL IS NOT A VERY NICE DUDE HES AGINST ABORTION, IN MY FICS HE LOOKS LIKE THE DUDE IN MY PFP (BOTH DISCORD AND THIS BLOG) BUT MY WRITING OF HIM IS NOT HOW HE IS IN IRL THANK YOU FOR COMING TO MY TEDTALK)

was the first person to notice the abuse of Quasi

he was a vicar general under Archbishop Frollo he was the successor to Frollo as archbishop of Paris

he was made a Cardinal in 2022 a year after his departure from Paris (the dude in irl is NOT a cardinal but hey a red hat is better than nothing, if he would have stayed in Paris he would have not been a cardinal still because its Francis who picks the cardinals there is no such thing as a 'red hat see' )

he's very vocal about ableism his title church in Rome is San Luigi Della Francia

[bluepuppethidinginafilingcabinet]

here we go again y’all

guess what guys it’s time for another episode of puppet history and my good student note taking.

right off the bat. chains on the box. yelling about said box. suspicious box.

also i have a feeling that brian david gilbert being here to win isn’t gonna end well for him. sad.

shade being thrown at new york

i love a good defenestration

charles university is in fact a boring name.

i feel like the professor being so chill about ryan calling him a douchebag was odd

i would hate to be found dead in my bathrobe

yeet out the window indeed

yes ryan we do have a word for throwing people out windows

example window scares me

why’d the professor seem a little distraught about the idea of being thrown out the window. i feel like normally he’d just threaten right back. this is odd. i might just be paranoid.

classic too many popes problem

no i do not know the name of the most important czech religious reformer of the 15th century.

welp none of those options seem more obvious than the others

why are they making the professors head larger and larger. i’m scared.

i do think that this guy has some really good point

that was a good chip joke. 12/10

“oh, yeah you murdered someone, well pay me 50 bucks and you can still go to heaven” is the same energy as “oh, you murdered someone? you got 40 bucks?” from the keddie cabin episode of unsolved

so true ryan bergara. you did not successfully murder anyone. or have you?

i don’t think jesus wanted people to die martyrs.

i love a good ritz cracker

too many jans

so true professor. everyone is exactly as they seem.

i mean showing up to church armed is certainly a choice.

um professor. heh. yeah. that is wild. can’t imagine that happening. at all. nope.

i love just throwing a bunch of people out a window

example window is still scary

thud from behind the theatre. was that supposed to be suspicious or was it just strange.

agreed not enough kicking pits.

honestly ryan as president would not be the worst president the us has had. not by a long shot.

is that the isaac newton puppet???

horse noises horse noises???? that’s not right. also i thought she was also dead????

also did the horses go to limbo when they died? because they were alive. i have so many questions.

the ad was uhhh something else

why defenestration? because why not

i love being drowned impaled and crushed by a wheel

i don’t know what creatively gruesome way i’d want to go. maybe i’ll come back to this.

i suppose being hurled out a window could be embarrassing.

dude being thrown off a church’s steeple would suck so hard

catholic lion brunch sounds like a nice little sunday activity

THEY BEHEADED TWELVE PEOPLE???? THATS SO MUCH WORK

you know maybe defenestration was the only thing they knew

mayor tossed out window? meh.

yeah why would you kill the person then throw them out the window???

oh boy here we go again

ah yeah that hot new sound of broken glass

yeah keep destroying stuff. that’ll end well.

great. good. mock trials.

aw nice upstairs.

ah fuck

i really do not like the example window

taking the hats is rude but also very funny tbh

“we’ll soon see if his mary helps him out” a banger of a line

very impressive to survive that fall.

b for blunder.

OH NO NOT THE BEES AND THE BASKETBALLS. PROFESSOR THATS NOT THE JOKE. PLEASE.

they really fell into literal shit

why did the professor sound weird.

there does seem to be a lot of piles of shit just laying around

almost martyr is in fact a really useless title

yay another war! - said no one ever

i hope this war isn’t 80 years long

oh good it’s not

BUT WHERE IS MY C DOGS BUT DAMMIT

we’re back to bathroom guy

i highly doubt that’s the last defenestration ever

oh boy musical number time

not the window

oh yeah just an angry mob. it’s fine.

really appreciate the emoticons in the lyrics

ryan looks concerned in a different way than usual

banger as per usual shane, congrats.

oh oh boy oh no

THE ALGORITHM ACTUALLY EXISTS???????

also the professor be glitching

lmao not the soaring performance

the professor out here ignoring the algorithm

oh boy it’s the puppet crème again. it scares me. especially the spelling crème like that

ryan lost the auction against connie huh? fucking connie.

the professor’s little head tilting

also he’s failing to lie so hard

oh yay i love the weird little voice change. not uncomfy at all.

aw ryan drives him home

uh huh normal work. sure.

why are there jelly beans all over the fucking floor of the theatre

love a staring contest with the moon

oooo not the flashback

okay egg. egg hatching.

shane what are you up to. what’s going on. i have so many questions.

[ithisatanytime]

BLUE CRUSH ANGEL

  martin luther was to the catholics what jesus was to the so called jews, its the same story, exactly the same played out again, and all the good christians became protestant thats why if any christianity gets any kind of mainstream play its catholicism, because its a captured church. satan captured  israel, he subverted it with his own flesh and blood, christ came and pointed out their lies and hypocrasy, martin luther did the same to the catholic church, and he wrote a treatise titled on the jews and their lies, a new reform is needed because Protestantism was captured by the jews in the early nineteen hundreds, but its had less time to ferment than their hold of the catholic church, if you have the time, just google any pope who was pope since there was photography and study pictures of their faces, these “italians” arent good men, they are cartoon caricatures of demons. 

 the appeal of catholicism is in its tradition and dogma, because these things are appealing to the simple minded, the pageantry and the pomp. that is exactly what the synagogue of satan was doing in the time of jesus, beguiling men with complex rules and lavish rituals of marriage and so on. they were impressive to mens sight. jesus was not impressive to look at, people take this to mean he was ugly i dont think thats whats meant and i believe he looked more or less exactly how hes been portrayed throughout most of history. whats meant by that is he wasnt strolling around in a purlple dress with a three foot tall mitre hat, but was dressed modestly, the truth doesnt need all that, and the people followed him on the power of the truth alone. but it is appealing to the hearts of men, Protestantism is basically any denomination thats not catholic or greek orthodox, so its an umbrella term that unfortunately includes literally homosexual pastors, butch lesbians teaching the rules of modern politeness based on select quotes, theres nothing edifying in that it is a path to the destruction of souls, but again its an umbrella term. and thats good! because the devil loves rigid social hierarchies because they are easiest to corrupt, he just needs to get his kids in the top slots and bingo you can change the religion however you see fit because you have authority. christ said let NO MAN be called teacher, none, that they were to be servants to each other equal under god, and bishops and ministers this just mean servant, so imagine the same scenario but in the united states we started calling our presidents servant, so it would be servant joe biden, thats what the catholic church has done with their royal servants who have thrones in private cities, they are kings calling themselves servants. god wanted us equal under him because like i said its hard to corrupt a decentralized church without a rigid power structure, and when you think about it thats how all the best criminal organizations are run because the police function how the devil does and they infiltrate with informants and flip people trying to get to the top guy, its as much practical advice as it is spiritual, and when you understand the world well enough there is little if any distinction between the two. another way to think of it is like a terrorist organization or a freedom fighting group whatever, the corrupt government wants a top down hierarchy so they can work their way up the chain and get the boss or better yet BECOME the boss thereby eradicating the group or making it wholly ineffective, what if the “group” was comprised of loosely associated lone wolves who shared little more than a common goal? well in that case they are fucked. so while i dislike some members of the protestant church there right now is no better alternative, its best to just read the bible yourself, understand it, and practice it while being loosely associated with other believers. the instant you tried to form an organized church that preached the true gospel the enemy would attempt to subvert it.

[bootyduke]

one of the last holdovers from my catholic upbringing is my disbelief that anyone in the church of england is sane or rational. some GUY in a fancy hat hated the pope one time and that means you go to "church service" instead of the objectively cooler named weekly ceremony of MASS?? you're gonna try following a KING into HEAVEN??? baby what are yoU DOING? I THOUGHT YALL HAD COME TO THE CONSENSUS THAT THE ONLY KING WHO LEADS TO HEAVEN IS JESUS, WHY ARE YOU LISTENING TO A GUY WHO KILLED TWO OF HIS WIVES????? I'M SO BAFFLED BY IT AND I'M NOT EVEN RELIGIOUS ANYMORE GOD WHY

[alicehattera03]

okay but pope Ijekiel is such a good idea? Roger can't make Ijekiel Emperor consort by making him marry Jennette so he aims for the next powerful position which is pope. After Lucas rejected his role as the saviour of Obelia the world tree looks for a replacement and chooses Ijekiel, gifting him divine powers. Ohh saintly Ijekiel who looks absolutely angelic in his cloak of white and gold but also saintly Ijekiel who doesn't hesitate to kill people, either because the world tree tells him to or because living in the papal palace is pretty much a battle royale among cardinals and bishops, and he doesn't wish to be the corpse that ends up being buried in the backyard. Why aren't there more saintly ML's? FL fights for the crown while the ML fights for. Each one of them ruling the clerical and secular side of the world. Together they'd be unstoppable. And it's a forbidden love too! Not only are their parents enemies but Ijekiel is expected to make a vow of chastity once he's of age.

NOOO BUT THIS EXACTLY!!! Pope! Ijekiel gets to take my heart and stomp on it all he wants cause it's just such a good plan!!?

The World Tree DID technically choose Athy this time around but hey, if it was a guy it would surely be Ijekiel with his steadfastness + the way he's willing to give all he has to protect a certain someone from the darkness that is the church. All he has to do is remind himself that he is the chosen one, he has to survive to make sure he can stand next to Athanasia as Emperor/Empress Regnant, and he can take up a position that's only second to royalty because OF COURSE he is!!!

Even though nobles think of themselves as all great and powerful they still go to the church to pray or pretend to pray lmao by giving donations and yet, they all have to be extremely polite to the head- the head, meaning....Ijekiell!!!!

Ijekiel who as a duke's only son already commanded a lot of power just with his title, and by becoming the pope, he has his background as well as the hat on his head to show the world that yes, he's the pope and no, he's not going to let his title stop him from marrying into royalty- wdym chastity, jingle you fools, look at the other countries whose princes and emperors married saintesses and holy knights!!!

Their parents on the other hand....well, even though their parents are age-old enemies, what can they possibly do once their children are of age? Ijekiel is literally the pope. Athanasia will probably take the throne a little while after. There's a little tape to cut around but they'll make it there.

It's love for star-crossed lovers, the holiest one and the wise princess.

[thetudorslovers]

"Anxious not to offend the pope, Federigo temporized: ‘It seems to me,’ he was reported by the Venetian ambassador to have said, ‘that the son of a pope, who is also a cardinal, is not the ideal person to marry my daughter. If the Pope can make it possible for a cardinal to marry and keep his hat, I’ll think about giving him my daughter.’ Nor was his daughter happy with the proposed match; not only was Carlotta in love with a Breton nobleman, but she was also determined not to marry "a priest who was the son of a priest."

Charlotte of Naples (c. 1479/80 – 1506), also known as Charlotte of Aragon and Princess of Taranto, was the eldest daughter and eventual heiress of King Frederick of Naples. Although her father was dispossessed of his kingdom, her descendants, the House of La Trémoïlle maintained their dynastic claim in exile. Daughter of the Neapolitan king's first marriage to Anne of Savoy, a granddaughter of Charles VII of France, Charlotte was married to Guy XVI, Count of Laval, head of one of Brittany's most powerful noble families. Following her mother's death which occurred shortly after her birth, Charlotte was raised in France and brought up at the French court. One of her suitors was Cesare Borgia. Charlotte refused him, and instead on 10 June 1500 married Guy XVI de Laval, Count of Laval. Charlotte and Guy had: Catherine, married Claude I of Rieux Anne, married Francois de la Trémoïlle Francois, d.1522.

In the year following Charlotte's marriage, her father lost his throne and freedom to France in war. Her brother, Ferdinand of Aragón, Duke of Calabria, fled to Spain in 1504, whence he did not return. On his death without legitimate descendants in Valencia in 1550, Charlotte was long dead and France had lost the crown of Naples to another branch of the Aragonese dynasty. Nonetheless her issue took up the fruitless pretence to the crown, while pursuing their interests in Brittany and France. Charlotte is posthumously attributed the title, Princess of Taranto, which had been borne by Neapolitan heirs apparent.

"While the ruling families of Milan and Naples should have been frightened and undoubtedly were, for Cesare Borgia the new situation was rich in promise. He remained enthralled by the thought of a princess he had never met, Don Fadrique of Naples’s daughter Carlotta. What he knew of her made her seem the perfect bride: eldest child of a king whose only son was still a boy; great-granddaughter of a king of France; a lady-in-waiting at the French court, where she had been sent to be brought up when her mother died not long after her birth. The man who married her could be confident of becoming one of the leading lords of Naples and of being accepted into the French royal family. And only one life, that of a very young brother-in-law, would stand between Carlotta herself and the Neapolitan crown. Soundings were taken in Naples, and the results were not encouraging: Don Fadrique showed no interest in marrying his daughter to Cesare. The fact that Cesare was a cardinal of the Church is itself sufficient to explain the king’s wariness, but beyond that the summer that Cesare had spent in Naples had obviously done nothing to enhance his attractiveness as a possible son-in-law. Whatever his opinion of Cesare personally, Don Fadrique probably thought that his father Ferrante and brother Alfonso II had bestowed quite enough Neapolitan riches on various Borgias, especially in connection with Sancia’s marriage to Jofrè. But with a new king of France now in the picture, and Carlotta virtually that king’s ward, Don Fadrique’s feelings would not necessarily decide the issue. If Louis could be won over, Don Fadrique might find it difficult not to go along."

"Now it was only a matter of time before he was released from his vows and took Carlotta of Aragon as his wife. His wish to marry Carlotta had nothing to do with love - the princess was being educated at the French court, and Cesare had never seen her. But Carlotta was the legitimate daughter of a king. Marriage to her would make Cesare Prince of Altamura and Taranto, and these territories would provide him with an income sufficient to compensate for the 35,000 ducats a year he was surrendering along with his cardinal’s hat."

Source: "The Borgias: The Hidden History Book" by G. J. Meyer

[priestofjudas]

(This is somewhat of a playful/jabby letter from an oc I'm making. So don't take this too seriously) Dear Bishop Maxwell, You may fail to recall who I am and will probably wonder how this got here by raven but I've sent this to tell you that the catholic church and his holiness can choke on my c*ck and balls (had to make this to where it would pass the censors at my home). You may have murdered my brother but I still have the soul and humor to tell you, "Get stuffed, Papist.". And your church may condemn me but jokes on you guys, I stole a fragment of the true cross and the pope's funny hat, and no, I won't call him "your eminence" it's larpy and dumb and God would send you to super hell for it. That is all I have to say, that I have spat your church and stole some sacred relics, pope hat, some secrets, and have sailed away in my longboat back to New Vinland.

With no kind regards and never yours, Sigurd Magnusson. P.S. ur cringe and heresy, don't have a good night.

Dear Sigurd Magnusson,

You are right, I do fail to recall all the heathens we have cleansed over the years and yet let me show my good will by replying to your letter.

When you were earlier offering the Holy Catholic Church and His Holiness to choke on your cock and balls, you forgot to mention some very important points there. Are you suggesting your apostate genitals to the whole Church or to the clergy only? Should we share (for sharing is caring!) or should we take turns choking? Which order are you suggesting? Who should start the first and who should be the last one to...? You see, this is a very interesting and I would say amusing dilemma, as every hour at least one new cleric is being added to the Church... Also, you should specify the correct way of manipulations with your genitals. Is one to choke on your cock and then on your balls, or should one try to get choked by them at the same time, cock and balls as one? I do believe that the second variant could hurt you more than you would like to. On the other hand, if you are that persistent in your demand, probably, you care not for the inconveniences that you might suffer.

We may have murdered your brother, indeed, but wasn’t it actually your brother who murdered himself with our merciful hands? For only the one who desires to part with this beautiful word too soon would have no wits whatsoever to cross (ha-ha, pardon me for this little inside joke, if you may!) our path.

I would also be very much interested to learn more about the “super hell” you are referring to as it kind of reminds me of something from a Mario game. If there is a pretty princess in the end, we might be interested in trying that out.

On the subject of you stealing the things that do not belong to you... Stealing is bad, m’okay? Don’t ever do that again or Satan will bite off your toes, spit in your soup and laugh all the time while doing that.

With kindness and love to our Lord and Saviour, Bishop Enrico Maxwell.

PS. Please, do not send raven anymore, it shat all over my desk.

[ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa]

Addicted to You

Part III: Renegade

Summary/Author's Notes: Frankie (and the rest of the boys) goes and gets his girl back. I won't say anything else because I know y'all have been waiting.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Pope's sister!Reader Word Count: 4.5k Warnings/Rating: R/18+ once again STRONG kidnapping elements, restraint, violence, death, murder, blood, language, PTSD, hurt/comfort

Gif by @hvitserkk

MASTERLIST

Part I Part II

Apparently this hell hole of a jungle insisted on being true to its word. Ever since they had left the bar it had been pouring down rain. Large torrents of water cascaded from the dark sky like the dump bucket at the local water park crashing down on a bunch of screaming kids. Unsurprisingly, Frankie had not slept at all. He tossed and turned on his cot in their hostel, spending the majority of the night staring at the ceiling, listening to Benny snore, and thinking about you.

A few times he gave up his restless dance and got up to crack the window and light a cigarette. Pope was already up as well, unable to rest for the same reasons Frankie couldn't, and he held out a smoke and a lighter to him in silence.

"Thanks," Frankie said, quietly and Pope nodded. The two of them didn't speak. What was there to say? He offered his presence and a cigarette as an apology and Frankie took it. That's just how they had always operated, with an unspoken language of knowing that even if they were pissed at each other, there was no one else they would rather have watching their six.

The watch on Pope's wrist beeped quietly and he pressed the button, nodding to Frankie that it was time to head out. Frankie returned the gesture, taking another long drag of his smoke as Pope started to wake the others. He stared up at the dark sky and wished there was some way to tell you that he was coming for you. Whatever was happening, whatever state you were in, just hold out a little longer.

The thickness of the canopy of leaves on Lorea's property helped with the rain. The large drops pat on the trees with soft thuds as the men took up their positions from yesterday and started in towards the mansion. Only this time, each of them was geared up, locked and loaded. Frankie was careful of his steps not because of noise this time, but because of the mud. The sheer amount of water that the forest floor had received overnight had flooded every tiny creek bed, and eroded enough earth that even the smallest hill was just an avalanche of silt. His shirt was already stuck to his body, protected only by his Kevlar and the pack slung over his back.

Pope turned his hat around backwards as he took up his sniping position on the hill and looked through his scope. Frankie moved quietly through the trees towards the gate and Will flanked him, each lowering their guns to start snipping the chain link fence with their bolt cutters. Benny mirrored Pope's sniper stance from the East side and kept a careful eye poised on the two men below working on the gate.

"Well, I guess it's a good thing they're so devout," Benny said flatly through the com piece. "My dad used to say when it's raining, that means god didn't need us in church today."

Will chuckled and shook his head, finishing up clipping the fence and putting the bolt cutters back in his backpack. "Yeah, he also said you go to heaven for the climate, and hell for the company."

"Actually I think Mark twain said that, shithead." His brother retorted as he adjusted his scope and checked on Frankie's progress with the fence.

"Alright, keep the radio clear. Stay awake and look alive." Tom's voice came through everyone's ears, his obviously irritated tone making Frankie roll his eyes. "How many is that, getting in, Fish? Count it."

Frankie looked up as he finished cutting and watched the family pile in the car adorned in their Sunday best and umbrellas. "Seven getting in the van," he answered Tom.

"Anybody see Lorea?" Pope asked.

"Negative. Never saw him come out." Will walked carefully back to his spot perpendicular to the road that led out of the fortress. He ducked behind a tree as the cars drove passed him down the gravel road. "Wife and two kids are with a single driver--the family has left the building. We're clear."

They all waited in silence as the family vans disappeared and another unmarked, black car rounded the corner in their place. Pope's informant had been true to her word and was here to deliver the day's round of Lorea's money like she didn't know that he was about to be robbed blind. The gates opened slowly and she drove right through. She had a beat up four door hitched to the van so she could drive away and leave them the extra van, just like Pope had asked.

"Damn Pope, your girlfriend is a keeper. She got us that second van." Benny said, looking through his scope and adjusting the settings. "Punctual, smart, and brave as shit--just how you like 'em."

Pope ignored his quip about the informant and asked, "Has anyone seen any sign of (Y/N)?"

"Negative." Frankie said flatly, squeezing the com button clipped to the inside of his shirt. His eyes diligently searched each window of the upper floor, desperate for even the smallest sign that you were inside and alive. But he saw nothing.

"Informant is in," Benny cut through the silence. "Making the handoff now."

"Here we go," Tom raised up off of his knees and started to move. "Ben, you're first hit. With this rain the guards are gonna be inside. Watch your angles--silence is key."

"Roger."

Will and Frankie started walking toward the back of the mansion, matching each other's strides as they let Pope take point in front of them through the tall grasses. Each man had their semi-automatic rifle level with their eyes, balanced against their chest as they strained their ears and vision to see anything in this fucking rain. Frankie ducked his head under the family's clothes line as they entered the backyard and waited for Pope to give them a hand signal.

To an outsider, this would have looked like any normal family's patio. A children's sized soccer goal and a few balls were off to the side, a grill and a white iron table and chairs sat waiting for summer time barbeques. And only a prick like Lorea would subject his family to his dealings out here in the middle of nowhere. Frankie hoped with everything he had that the man in question was inside, because he couldn't wait to get his hands on him.

"Steady." Pope said over the com and motioned that he was going in the side patio door, and that the other two should go in through the double doors.

"Alright," Will nodded, looking at Frankie and motioning him to take the lead. "We're going in."

The house was dark. Will checked the windows but it didn't offer much insight before they crossed the threshold. Most of the glass had been covered with newspaper, bleached from the sun and offering little to help with what he could only imagine was Lorea's paranoia. A lot of the furniture was covered in sheets and protective cloth like they had just moved in or were getting ready to move out--either way, it wasn't very homey.

Pope nodded as he crossed paths with the two of them from the side door, taking note of the guard watching soccer in the living room at such a volume that suggested he was absolutely hard of hearing. But that sure made sneaking passed him easier.

Will and Frankie headed to the kitchen. The fridge door was open and a faceless man was rifling through the contents. Frankie let Will take point, keeping his gun raised as the blond slung his over his shoulder and waited for the guard to shut the fridge. As soon as he did, he was on him with a swift punch to the face. Will twisted the man around and wrapped his bicep around his neck, putting him in a sleeper hold, squeezing tighter as the man struggled, ultimately falling unconscious and sliding to the floor.

Frankie white knuckled his gun as he saw that it was the smaller guard from the day before--the one who had called you merchandise. He hesitated, but shook it off as Will tossed him a zip tie and they secured the man's wrists and ankles before stowing him on the other side of the counter.

"Front gate secured," Benny said over the com from outside the house.

"One guard secured in the kitchen," Frankie answered as they crossed back into the foyer.

"Ben come to the house," Tom ordered from his place on the rooftop balcony

"Copy that."

Will followed Frankie into the next room as they looked across the foyer at Pope. The guard who had previously been watching his ridiculously loud television was nowhere to be seen. Benny's shadow appeared in front of the frosted glass of the French double doors and Pope held up a fist that he hoped he would be able to see.

"I'm at the front door."

"Hold Benny, hold," Pope responded, keeping his fist raised.

"Threat in the TV room is gone," Frankie said, keeping his voice calm and factual, letting Benny know the reason he was continuing to stand in the rain.

All three men looked up as the missing guard came down the staircase. Frankie's eyes narrowed as he realized who the guard in question was. He remembered the clear image of his disgusting hands over your mouth, hurting you, restraining you, and ultimately striking you--bitch. muzzle. cunt. His heart hammered in his chest and he could hear the blood rushing in his ears and he did the only thing he could think of. With an echo through the high ceiling entryway, he squeezed the trigger and fired, hitting the bald guard in the kneecap and sending him to the ground with a thud and a yell.

"What's going on in there??" Benny said over the com and Pope lowered his fist.

"All clear Benny. Eyes out for Lorea--"

"Well, he sure as fuck heard us now!" Will growled, dropping to his knee and pulling the zip ties and electrical tape from his pack. He spared a glare at Frankie as he got to work but Frankie felt no remorse. If he didn't need to find you, he would have shot the bastard a second time.

Will wrapped the black tape around the guys mouth to muffle his painful screams as Frankie pulled the zip tie tightly around his ankles--perhaps a little tighter than was necessary. The three of them looked up as Benny came in the front door and Pope pointed to the open utility closet at the left of the stairs.

"Set the charges for the security room. I want those cameras offline now! It's just Lorea and I do not want him to know our positions." Pope took a couple of stairs up and raised his rifle back to balance on his shoulder as he looked around the corner.

"What was the fuck was that? Who shot first?" Tom hissed through the com and they looked at Frankie.

"We had to shoot the third guard in the leg." Ben answered as he started pulling wires out of the cameras and lining the inside with a small amount of explosive, wetting his fingers with his tongue. "Taking him to the kitchen as we speak." He looked pointedly at Will and Frankie. It made Frankie realize that, unlike Tom, none of them would blame him for the shot, but they had to stay focused and keep moving.

They picked up the still grunting and thrashing guard and carried him into the other room and Benny turned his head and said with a grin, "Fire in the hole."

The camera system fuse sparked and popped like a line of firecrackers and all at once every camera in the compound went dark.

The rest of them let Frankie and Pope take the lead as they walked up the stairs. Both men shoulder to shoulder as they aimed down the sight of their guns and looked in each open door that led to a room, hoping that you would be there. With each empty room Frankie's heart beat harder. He found it more difficult to breathe every time he swept the area and you weren't there. Sweat dripped off his brow, both from the humidity in the house and the fear of the possibility that you were no longer in the house at all.

The two of them came to the last closed doors in the hallway and they looked at each other.

"You take right, I'll take left?" Pope offered and Frankie nodded wordlessly.

"I got your six," Will said behind them both as Tom and Benny moved to take the double doors that led to Lorea's office.

Frankie tried to calm his hands as he took one off of his gun to open the door. The room was dark and cluttered, a nice set of bay windows being the only light as rain pounded against the glass. Frankie swept the room slowly, using the barrel of his rifle as a guide for his eyes as they adjusted to the low light. He lowered his gun slowly as he laid eyes on you, for even in shadows he knew it had to be you.

"(Y/n).." he breathed out, dropping his rifle and backpack to the floor with a thud. Nothing in the house mattered anymore, not Lorea, not the Narcos money--even if Will wasn't watching his back, he would have dropped everything he was carrying to get to you faster.

You had heard footsteps and a gunshot long before Frankie hit the door. Not that any of the warning sounds mattered because you were basically a sitting duck, and you had been for almost twenty-four hours. Time was irrelevant though as the blindfold around your eyes made everything dark at all hours of the day. As the footsteps got closer you clenched your fists and pulled against the zip ties that held you against the straight back chair. A whimper fell around the gag that was biting into your cheeks and as a hand touched each of your arms, you let out a muffled scream.

The sound alone felt like someone was ripping Frankie's heart out with his own hunting knife. He released you like you had burned him and quickly went for your blindfold first so you could see it was him, not Lorea, not his thugs...him.

"(Y/n)! Baby, stop--it's me, it's me!" He raised his voice to be heard over your fear and you froze.

Blinking slowly, your eyes adjusted to the light as he came into focus in front of you. Frankie. Your Frankie. Frankie Morales was squatting in front of you, looking up at your face with a mixture of elation and worry.

His large but gentle hands reached up and, careful of your hair, slipped the cloth gag out of your mouth and let it drop to the floor.

"Cat?" You rasped weakly, the one word catching in your throat like a stone. Your mouth hurt and felt like it was full of paste, dry and clammy at the same time.

"Yeah," he laughed softly in relief as if hearing your voice made you more real. "Hold on, doll." He said, pulling his knife out of the sheath on his boot and cutting through the restraints on your ankles before moving up to each wrist. The plastic snapped easily under the blade and your body felt like it's entire existence gave a sigh as the blood flow resumed to those areas.

Before you could stop yourself, you crumbled off of the chair and against his chest, but he was expecting it. He knew you better than anyone and like always, it was as if he could read your thoughts. Your sobs came easier than you would have liked, but they were impossible to fight.

Frankie's arms wrapped around your body like they had a thousand times before. One hand went to your hair and he looked over his shoulder to Will, "Get Pope." His words were as quiet as he could keep them while still allowing the other man to hear him over your tears.

"Of course," Will nodded, leaving the room at a jog.

"Santi's here?" You managed to choke out and you felt him nod.

"You bet," he tightened his grip on you, clearing the emotion out of his own throat. "Who do you think called in the calvary?"

The fact that your brother had been the one to track you down was not surprising in the slightest. You had hoped against all odds that the moment you didn't show up to meet him in the city, he would have allowed his paranoia to go into full force. But you had no idea that it meant he would rally a rescue posse. It made sense--there was no way he would be able to take the mansion solo, but knowing that all of his guys, the guys that you considered part of the Garcia family, had dropped everything to help him find you made your chest tight. The tears started again and you gripped Frankie's Kevlar vest, too tired to fight them.

"Hey," he whispered, pulling you back against him. "I got you. You're safe now--we're gonna get out of here."

You nodded and looked back up at him. Two years. Two years and not a damn thing had changed about the man in front of you. He still wore a ball cap that you were certain you had seen before, his thick, dark hair curled out from under it and you knew if the hat came off it would be sticking out in every direction. Your fingers itched to touch it, to touch him, any part of him that wasn't the tactical gear that covered the outside of his body. The scruff at the sides of his jaw had just a touch of gray, now that was new, but then again neither of you were kids anymore. You couldn't stop yourself as you touched the edge of his beard with the tips of your fingers. He was here. He was real. And despite the distance and the time between your last encounter, he had come for you.

"Can I kiss you?" Frankie choked out in the empty room as if he held the thought in any longer he was going to burst. His chest ached, and his jaw hurt from clenching his entire body to keep his own tears at bay. He didn't need to add his own shit on top of your distress, and he shouldn't have asked for such an intimate act after just untying you from a fucking chair. But he heard Will's voice promising him that he would get to tell you everything he had ever meant to since you met.

"Yes, yes," you nodded, a few more tears slipping down your cheeks.

He cupped your face and looked at you like he had never seen you before. Your cheek was bruised from the day before, the purple edges starting to turn yellow but the majority not the center remained a painful looking black. Your lip was swollen, very obviously cut open and recently dried by something forceful and crass that should have never been allowed to touch you in the first place. The corners of your mouth were irritated and chapped from the gag and from screaming, another image that he didn't want either of you to have to remember after today.

He shouldn't kiss you, he shouldn't entertain such a self indulgent act when you were this badly hurt, but you didn't stop him. If he was a bigger man, he would have stopped himself, but the thought vanished as he met your eyes. Those soft, kind, eyes that he wanted to lose himself in were so tired, red with tears, and downright broken. If Lorea was still in this house...he would skin him alive.

His lips were a feather's touch against your own and you swallowed the whimper that threatened to leave your mouth because you knew such a noise would gut him. You wanted to hold him close and never let him go again. Suddenly all of the excuses you had ever had for settling down with Frankie Morales were bullshit. You allowed your arms to be pinned against his chest as he held you close and you closed your eyes. He smelled like rain and sweat but under that he smelled like how you remembered, like campfire and earth.

Not wanting to cause you any discomfort, he allowed himself one last quiet peck before nosing your cheek and exhaling softly.

"Take me home, Frankie," you breathed against his face, your voice shaking despite your efforts. "I just want to go home."

He nodded against you and you felt his grip tighten. "You got it. We're going home."

"(Y/n)?," Pope said as he broke the threshold of the room and laid eyes on you and Frankie. "Oh, gracias a Dios," he said, lowering his voice as he crossed the room and fell to his knees with a graceful thud. Frankie relinquished his hold on you so the other man could gather you up into his arms.

You hugged him back as tightly as you could, but nothing prepared you for the grip he engulfed you in and the grimace on your face made Will speak up. "Easy, man, she's seen better days," he called from his position in the doorway and it made you smile.

"Are you hurt? What did they do?" Pope said, sitting back on his heels and holding you at arm's length to see your injuries.

"I'm okay," you tried to sound reassuring. "Sore, but okay."

"Did you have any idea why they wanted your crew?" Will asked, and you shook your head.

"No, I don't. I've been in this room since I got here. I know they change who guards the door, but that's it." You put a hand on Frankie's leg to steady yourself and his hand found the small of your back. Even sitting on the floor, you felt weak, you were so tired.

For two days the only human contact you had was with a select few of Lorea's men. With a shift change, they gave you water, led you to the bathroom, and then redid the zip ties on your hands and feet. The blindfold stayed on through everything and they had strict orders to keep their hands to themselves and not rough you up too much. You weren't stupid--Journalists made good ransom chits, especially American, female ones.

"Is there any of your crew left?" Will asked and you shook your head.

"They killed them, oh god," your hands started to shake again and your breath caught as you remembered the men kneeling in the tennis courts of the mansion, landing in a puddle of blood and darker things with each bang of a gun. "They're dead--it's just me."

Santiago pulled you back against him and put his chin on top of your hair. "It's okay. Stop. Nothing you did would have stopped it. Your job was to survive, remember?"

You nodded, not really wanting one of your brother's trademark military pep-talks. You knew he was right, what else could you have done? But that thought didn't do anything to change the bile in your stomach that made you want to throw up.their coms crackled to life, thankfully drawing yourself out of your own thoughts.

"Fish? You got eyes on (y/n)?" Benny's voice came over the radio and you looked at Will who gave you a wink. Of course he had brought his little brother on the rescue mission.

Frankie reached up and clicked the button pinned to the collar of his shirt. "Yeah we got her. She's okay."

"Good," Tom's voice crackled back. "Now, everyone to the upstairs office. We got a problem."

"Shit," Pope cursed, getting up and letting go of your arms so Frankie could take over. "Take your time," he said to you as your knees wobbled and Frankie hooked his arm around your waist.

"I got her," the other man said, nodding his head in the direction of the door. "Go see what's wrong."

Pope hesitated, taking another glance at you before nodding his thanks to Frankie and Will. The blond moved to the side, but kept his post of guarding the door so Frankie could give you his full attention. He started unbuckling his bulletproof vest and you looked at him in confusion. He tossed his backpack next to his gun on the floor, clearly intent on getting to the vest itself.

"What are you doing?"

"You're gonna put this on," he said flatly, pulling the Kevlar over his head in one fluid motion.

"Frankie, you need that," you tried to protest but he shook his head.

"Arms up," he said firmly and you obeyed in silence. He was gentle as he pulled it over your head and tightened the first strap on your side. He clipped the buckle and moved to the next one, making sure the material hugged you tightly and was secure. As much as you wanted to argue, the look on his face made you bite your tongue. His sole mission was to get you would of that mansion alive by whatever means necessary.

His handsome face was much too serious and you couldn't help putting your hand on his cheek as he leaned down towards your chest to finish the last buckle around your back. The small smile you received was worth the action. He pulled a handgun from the back of his belt and held it in his palm.

"Safety," he said pointing to the small black dot under the magazine. He clicked it up and the dot showed the smallest flash of orange paint underneath. "On."

"I know how to handle a glock, Cat," you said quietly and he grinned.

"Just making sure," he raised his hands in playful defense as he let the full weight of the gun transfer to your own hand. "I know it's not the beretta."

You blushed and shook your head as you holstered the gun in the waistband of your jeans. You suddenly wished you had the beretta that was sitting useless in the nightstand beside your bed. Santiago had purchased it before he left back for Columbia and he entrusted Frankie to teach you how to use it. And the man in front of you had stayed true to his word.

"Let's keep moving," Will broke the silence between the two of you and nodded his head down the hall.

Frankie agreed with a nod of his own and started to walk towards the door only to stop and hold his hand slightly behind him. You crossed the gap and gripped it tightly, something you had done a thousand times, felt as wonderful as it had years ago. "Stay with me," he said gently and you nodded. He knew it was an unnecessary request, because right now, he couldn't think of a single thing that would make him let you out of his sight.

--

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[dwellordream]

“…sex was not, in fact “treated with the utmost reverence” by “our ancestors” in the Christian West. Sex was, instead treated in a highly ambivalent way. To be sure, from a Christian theological standpoint there was an ideal way to approach sex. That was not to have it. The ideal individual would devote their life to God as a member of the clergy and simply opt out of the whole sex thing. This is because sex, and the attendant pleasure that individuals experienced as a part of it, was a direct result of the Fall of Man. Had Eve never eaten that damn apple, it would have been possible, according to St Augustine, to have sex without experiencing pleasure.

…So ideal individuals were those who were wary of any sort of sexual contact, eschewed it, and devoted their lives to worshipping God in the clergy. On the other hand, new humans had to be made, so some people were going to have to have sex. The way to control for the sinful and lustful nature of sex, according to the clergy, was for those individuals to get married and have sex specifically and only with each other whilst also attempting to procreate. Any sex that couldn’t lead to children was sodomy. Sodomy was always forbidden. Sex should always theoretically result in more children. Any other type of sex, whether extramarital or sodomitical should be confessed and repented for.

So this is all well and good and very cute of the Catholic Church to state. Trouble is, that you can’t actually dictate that this happen because it turns out people really really like sex. Like, a lot. For a start, while the clergy were meant to be acting as arbiters of sexual impurity as well as celibate examples for ordinary people, they pretty famously were not always great on that one.

Indeed before the Gregorian Reforms of the eleventh century there were plenty of clergy members who were married themselves and having plenty of sex. So much so that the moral authority of the clergy was under question to the point that the Gregorian Reforms were, you know, required. Pope Gregory VII (c. 1015-1085) thus duly made one of the most successful pushes for clerical celibacy and from that point onward clergy members were supposed to keep it in their pants.

This did not work. Clergy members kept on having sex. Sometimes they had sex with each other and wrote sweet little love notes about it. Sometimes they had sex with women living alongside them as their concubines. Sometimes they had sex with the sex workers who were considered absolutely necessary by Church authorities to the ordering of society.

…Obviously, then even clergy members were never totally celibate. Sure, they wished to be, and sometimes even strove to be, but the lascivious clergy member was common enough that it is a trope in medieval literature. There is a reason that we see nuns harvesting the penises from the tree in BNF Roman de la Rose manuscript is what I am saying.

Of course there is also all of the non-clergy members to consider. Spoiler: they were also not great at the whole only having sex within marriage and specifically in order to get pregnant thing. The thing is that although sex within marriage was allowed, it was just considered fundamentally not that sexy.

Indeed, while marriage was very much considered a religious state, so too was it seen as a specific contract between families. Marriages, especially among the upper classes were frequently conducted for business or dynastic reasons and it was entirely normal for people to end up married to individuals that were not necessarily their first choices.

It is for this reason that the entire genre of courtly love literature sprang up. You know, the entire corpus of medieval works about having sex with women who were married to someone else? Yes. That. Because sex with one’s husband was a duty that one participated in. Sex with one’s lover was about, well, love. Also hot sex. Indeed the anticipation of extramarital sex was such that it was generally agreed that women groomed themselves not for their husbands, but their lovers.

…For the average person (i.e., peasants) this was, of course, not the case. Peasants and other commoners had much more freedom about who to marry, given that they weren’t busy starting wars over dynastic spats. Even there, we know that many marriages in the Early Modern period between common people, as many as one in five were conducted when the bride was already pregnant, which we assume pretty safely holds true of the medieval period. The flip side of this is that plenty of women also found themselves pregnant with men who would not end up becoming their husbands.

Sex, then, wasn’t something that was treated as a sacred covenant by everyone. Did the Church want you to? Yes obviously they did. Could they even live up to that standard themselves? No. Jesus are you joking? Sex was had where sex was had by the people who wanted to have it. Then as now.

Of course there was pushback against, you know, all the extramarital non-procreative sex. One need only to look at the penance that was meted out for women who used dildos to see that there were those in the Church who very much considered themselves engaged in a war against sex.

Thing of it is, by the very existence of such penitentials we see that there was never a point when unacceptable sex was ever totally curtailed. People were threatened with burning in hell for their lust in church frescoes because they were having unacceptable sex.

They were given penance by their priests because they were having unacceptable sex. They were lectured from the pulpit by their clergy members because they were having unacceptable sex. The very existence of correctors shows us that they were necessary because people kept violating the rules.

To ignore the nuanced and varied history of sex in order call sex now a result of the “triumph of the merchant” is to completely ignore the fact that the traditional medieval and early modern conceptions of sex within marriage were almost entirely transactional in nature. Sex, as I have argued repeatedly was very much conceptualised as an object and a debt that one person owed another within marriage. This sex was exchanged in order to secure heirs.

Moreover the promise of access to this sex was very much the means by which marriages were negotiated. Sex was a commodity traded between families and marriage the contract by which it was secured. Indeed, by saying that sex must necessarily only take place inside of a married context for the getting of heirs the very conception becomes immediately commodified and brokered between interested parties.

Equally laughable is the idea that sex was always “revered” by our Christian ancestors, belied as it is by the utter glee that they quite obviously took in profane images. Whether we are talking about obscene pilgrim badges commemorating all the sex that you may have had while away, (or the pregnancy you were hoping to secure through pilgrimage, we aren’t sure!), the marginalia of couples going down on each other, the endless parade of dicks that pop up everywhere from dragons’ hats to standing in for manicules, it is abundantly clear that medieval people also just thought sex was pretty funny. Doesn’t matter if you were a cloistered monk decorating the pages of books for the glory of god, odds are you were gonna draw a dick in there. Cuz it’s funny.

So anyway, yes clearly the idea that there is some sort of pure holy Christian past that we are straying away from is absolute nonsense and a exists only as a construct in this sad little white supremacist’s head. Indeed, if anything I would argue that we are probably more monogamous now than medieval people were. After all, the way that we currently relate to marriage is that it is a relationship wherein we are supposed to receive everything from the other person.

Our spouses are supposed to be our hottest lovers, our best friends, our family members, and if we are religious our spiritual equals. That is … way more than medieval people expected from one relationship. We are therefore becoming increasingly monogamous, asking that one relationship do more and more work for us, and edging out older traditional relationship models which include an extended family as well as the larger community. Also maybe banging that cute guy over there on the sly. Who knows!”

- Eleanor Janega, “On treating sex with the utmost reverence”.