#i want more demon kids with catholic guilt !!!

[aspennntree]

we as a society need to give more demon children catholic guilt

[edwinisms]

I know how it sounds at first, but I really gotta feel bad for the boys that sacrificed edwin; I mean even the term “sacrificed edwin” paints them in a more sinister light than they really deserve– considering that wasn’t really, actually their intention.

they were bullies, they were homophobic (and/or were self loathing gay boys themselves taking it out on edwin, or were equally likely peer pressured into acting a certain way), they planned something stupid and mean to do to an innocent, anxious boy with the goal of scaring the shit out of him, all because he was effeminate and an easy target. but they didn’t know or expect any of the ritual stuff to be real. they were all laughing and joking during the ritual because it was just that to them– a joke. a cruel joke, but a joke.

teenagers can be mean and stupid and they usually regret it as adults and grow out of it / grow from it. they were stifled the chance to grow out of it, at least while alive. none of those boys deserved to be instakilled and sent to hell; they’re really not that much less deserving than edwin himself. they were all just kids, after all.

[remotepixel]

Hi! Can you write the Avengers with a demon reader? Maybe just a weak and very young demon who is looking for people to sign contracts for their souls

Hii! Thank you for requesting!

While writing this I was honestly just thinking of hazbin hotel, so if I mention 'Hell' I'm talking about that kinda version, not the religiously-accurate one for eternal punitive suffering lol <3

TW: yandere themes

-The Avengers assumed you were a threat the second they heard about a supposed demon running around nyc, asking people for their souls. They’ve dealt with numerous different supernatural beings - aliens, gods, simply superpowered individuals - but this was another level of insanity. I can imagine Steve, the Catholic man he is, just ‘😨’ the second he found out.

-But all that suspense died the second they saw you…a child?

-Obviously, past all the confusion, you’re taken into the Avenger's tower/compound for light questioning. They've got to make sure you’re an actual demon first, just in case they’re kidnapping someone’s kid who decided to dress up early for Halloween. However, when it’s revealed that you really are one, and supposedly have powers, you'd be made to live in the tower with the others - safety and all that (definitely not for the plot).

-Despite being a demon, your age and weakness will be the main factor for their obsession to start. You being young makes it easier for them to justify their overprotectiveness. You need to someone to look after you, teach you, and it only makes sense that they would take up that mantle. Sure, they might not have lessons in parenting (expect Clint) but there isn’t many other superpowered people in the world, and they knew how desperate some people could be to get power. Being young means you’re more likely to ignore any red flags or know the signs of manipulation, and they’re convinced you wouldn’t be able to fight back anyways.

-I don’t think they would actually try and help you with your powers though. Apart from basic self-defence classes, they want to keep you reliant on them for as long as possible. You could likely overpower most of them at full potential, and where would that lead them? Would you forget about them? Ignore their advice and throw yourself into battle like they do? It isn’t worth it.

-If you’re really insistent about it, they may let you mess about a bit. Though, that’s mainly if your powers are unstable/out of control and training is needed. And, again, it would only be enough to keep you safe and remain weaker than them.

-I get the vibe some of them won’t take your title of a demon seriously in general - Steve’s coming to mind first. Like I mentioned, the guy’s religious and, since you probably go against his years-old assumption of a demon, he wouldn’t fully think of you as one, even though it was proved. You’re more of a superpowered, human kid in his eyes.

-Tony would treat it more like an inside joke than a fact. Like, he’d make stupid nicknames about your Hellish bloodline, but he’d ignore any genuine conversations about it. It’s just hard for him to image that you are some ‘fallen, evil angel’….so he doesn’t.

-Natasha wouldn’t be too fussed about it. It’s not that she doesn’t believe you, but your exact species doesn’t matter too much to her - she’ll like you either way. She’ll listen to any fun facts you want to tell her about Hell (assuming you were born and raised there) or demons in general. Clint is in a similar boat. Although he might tease you about it sometimes, Natasha would probably tell him to shush if it went too far and you seemed upset.

-Bruce would be a bit hesitant. Due to how the Hulk affected him (physically and the guilt), I think he may be a bit worried that your ‘evil’ blood would lead to you actually becoming a stereotypical demon later on, even if you try to fight that side of you. But, he’ll likely calm down a bit when he starts getting to know you more, and would lean towards the middle like Natasha and Clint. He’d probably be interested in learning and logging your abilities, both as he’s curious and it’s useful to know if anything goes wrong.

-Thor would be the only genuinely happy one. He’s probably met countless difference species/races on different planets, so you not being human isn’t odd to him - it fact, it just brings you two closer together. If he’s able to, he would probably take you back to the underworld for a day. Of course, he’d forget to tell the others though and lead to an unneeded, frantic search party.

-I wouldn’t put it past at least one of them to sell their soul to you - whether for funzie or they don’t fully believe how bad it could be. Like, if they don’t take you as a demon seriously anyways, they’re not going to take your little contract seriously either.

-I was thinking mostly Tony, due to his habit of speaking before thinking, but Thor would likely do so as well. He’s not necessarily stupid, but Asgard probably has different beliefs, and thus he thinks of your contract as a cultural, non-Midgard thing rather than ‘i’m actually taking your soul’ thing.

-Either way, all of them are planning to stay by your side infinitely, contract or not : )

[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.

[musashi]

You think the brand of people who hate MVK and call him neglectful also hate Misty or does she get a free pass as a Girlboss(TM)

no, they're just as bad to misty (but weirdly fine with morgan?)

honestly the person i compare misty to isn't mvk, it's miles. miles and misty both did the same thing (jouhatsu) but miles is forgiven, rarely held accountable, lauded as morally complex or untouchable because he's twaumatiiiiized but misty is demonized always and forever as a neglectful, absent mother whose love is worthless because of the choice she made.

i've never met a single person in this fandom with a favourable opinion on misty, it's fucking depressing as all hell. meanwhile no one gives a shit about morgan who canonically beats her fucking daughter (amongst many, MANY other things)

how the aa fandom chooses to declare parents abusive has nothing to do with the parents and everything to do with how easy it is to project onto their "victims." case in point:

misty fey: morally complex in canon. maya, while not super popular, is growing as projectionbait due to her self-worth issues & the fact that she's often shipped with franziska who everyone is inexplicably horny for. VERDICT: ABUSER.

morgan fey: abusive in canon. beats her youngest daughter & controls her access to the outside world. manipulated all three of her children into committing attempted murder for her. iris is not projectionbait because she is viewed primarily as a threat to narumitsu and thus despised. dahlia is not projectionbait because she is not mentally ill in a sympathetic way, instead exhibiting severe cluster b tendencies and being "one of the bad ones." no sympathy is given to dahlia despite the fact that she was clearly a severely mentally ill child in need of support. pearl is not projectionbait because people's only perception of her personality is "child" and nothing more. VERDICT: NOT ABUSIVE, SIMPLY A CHARISMATIC VILLAIN.

blaise debeste-winner: abusive in canon. berates his son every single opportunity he gets. i am almost certain he does worse by the end of the game but have not yet finished it. eustace is not projectionbait because he is a narcissist and that is not one of the acceptable mental illnesses, see dahlia. VERDICT: NOT ABUSIVE.

manfred von karma: not abusive in canon, I AM INVITING EVERYONE READING THIS MESSAGE TO COME INTO MY INBOX AND DEBATE ME ON THAT POINT RIGHT NOW. DO IT, COWARD. cartoonishly evil. ridiculously so. so evil that it loops back around into being hilarious. morally complex in that we are rarely allowed to know what he is thinking, and so many interpretations of it arise, rightfully so. miles was made to be projectionbait. punitive view on justice that all the fucking catholics on this website share. canonical post-traumatic stress disorder. attractive young gentleman. shippable with the protagonist. severe guilt complex. deep-seated self loathing. would identify as an "anti" if he were on fandom twitter. depending on your interpretations of canon, suicidal. franziska is debatable projectionbait--being like dahlia in that she is the 'wrong' kind of mentally ill--but she inches ahead into a firm yes because she is a burning-out gifted kid and, again, annoying lesbians on this website want to have sex with her. VERDICT: MANFRED VON KARMA INVENTED CHILD ABUSE AND IF YOU COME AWAY FROM THE TEXT WITH ANY KINDER INTERPRETATION ON HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH HIS KIDS WE WILL UNPERSON YOU ON TWITTER.

i could go on, but i love myself, so i won't.

[catholic-character-tournament]

Quarter Finals - Catholic Character Tournament

Propaganda below ⬇️

Matt

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

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

canonically catholic but dresses like a demon to be quirky

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This man's every coping mechanism is Catholicism.

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

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

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

Daredevil Season 2 Episode 3

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

Daredevil Season 3 Episode 13

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

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

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

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

Season 3 episode 1

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

Homura

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

shes such a lesbian for amdoke

Catholic guilt literally turned her into a demon

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

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

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

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

[eegasleega-will-change-this-l8r]

Cannot overstate how much I love this sad old man

Mr. Geldegarde Monotoli, mayor of Fourside, rich in fame and fortune, servant of Master Giygas, absolutely sopping wet pathetic old loser who bit off WAY more than he could chew

I started writing my fic about him and Porky just because I thought their dynamic could be funny to explore, then as I wrote it it just naturally developed into the central theme of Monotoli seeing the good kid within Porky and trying to bring it out by being the kind and caring person he never had in his life and aaahhhhhh (god i haven't worked on it in ages i need to get back around to it aojdjoalkdjdk)

So I love Monotoli because he's a big spineless coward and I just love pathetic characters, but unlike, say, Aloysius, he's not an actively terrible person He gets caught up in his own ambition and greed and then immediately gets slammed in the face by the consequences of his actions Constant visions and nightmares, the guilt of everything he's done, his natural anxiety and fear being amplified by the Mani Mani statue, Porky (a fate worse than death) So he's stuck in this position and deal that he's suddenly realized he doesn't want, forced to continue to do more evil for Giygas

BUT he's also a good person!! He sees the good in Porky and wants him to be safe and happy, he makes sure to treat Paula well when he has to kidnap her, he immediately helps Ness and his friends when he's finally broken free of the statue, he's actually a very sweet guy when he's not being ordered around by a horrifying demonic evil

So I see Monotoli as being a guy with a pretty strong set of morals, horrified at the idea of doing anything wrong, but who got caught up in Fourside's business culture and becoming rich and influential Unfortunately he absolutely was not cut out for it and suffered failure after failure, until when he was at his most desperate he was approached with a deal He took it, rode the high of being on top for a couple days (in which he was incredibly nasty), then abruptly crashed as the ramifications set in His ending in the game is really sweet to me, having given everything he had wanted so much before back to everyone and taking a simple job as a doorman

So I always thought of Monotoli being, like, Italian (or Summers...ian I guess) Like his whole role being "businessman buys up the city, runs everything with armed goons, etc" feels like a spin on the mafia (subverted with him being a super meek cowardly guy who doesn't actually like the power he's gotten) Plus "Monotoli" just sounded Italian to me when I first played It's actually Japanese, "Geldegarde" is German for "guards riches" iirc, his name in the Japanese version was "Monomichi Monotoly" which is something like "has-riches steals-riches" So like a different localization of his name could be, like, "Richwealth Burglerson" or something Anyway he's still Italian for me

I see trout yogurt as being this weird niche thing that pretty much everyone finds disgusting, EXCEPT for Monotoli who absolutely loves the stuff It's hard to get in Eagleland (because nobody else likes it) so he has to get it imported, but the prices skyrocketed when it became known that it was Mr. Monotoli's favorite food and everyone started trying to emulate him (the industry completely crashed when he lost his power over everybody and they all realized it was gross)

He's probably Catholic, can't really get into any specifics because I know nothing about religion, but it definitely plays into his dilemma with having made a deal with what's basically the devil and now being forced to do evil

He has like a full-on Mr. Monopoly-type outfit that he wears for special occasions as the mayor I actually drew him in it a while ago but he looks wayyy too cool, if he's this well-dressed he needs to look like someone just poured a bucket of water on him to balance it out (also i meant to give him a sash but by the time i remembered it was too late)

[adeptune01]

alright another supernatural rant in 2024...

RELIGIOUS TRAUMA

buckle up folks it's gonna be a long ride

Okay so Supernatural really obviously draws on Catholic imagery to make it's points. Which is fair. Cathedrals are beautiful, the KJV (King James Version of the Bible) is wonderfully cryptic, and it's rather ritualistic which settles into the plot nicely.

HOWEVER

I'm going to argue that Supernatural is pushing an inherently Protestant message. (DISCLAIMER: if you know absolutely nothing about Christianity the rest of this rant may not make any sense to you)

A huge part of the Protestant message is it's "for by faith" system of salvation. If you were lucky enough not to be raised in a Christian fundamentalist home you may not know the rest of the verse and it reads as follows:

"For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith- and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God-" Ephesians 2:8 (NIV)

Basically, you can't get yourself into heaven by being a good person. You have to trust in Jesus as your Lord and Savior and rely on your relationship with God. This sounds nice on paper. In practice, it creates a religion that praises guilt as a virtue and inspires blind devotion. You might see where I'm going with this.

All of the characters in the show struggle with guilt at some point or another- and if they do not they are shamed for it. Sam felt guilty for leaving for Stanford and later, when he stood up for himself and told Dean he was getting out of hunting for good he was berated for it. Dean felt guilty for everything- as he put it himself, if he could find a way to blame himself for every major tragedy since the day he was born he would.

But what’s interesting is how their behavior is recognized.

Sam still believes he deserves good things- a girlfriend, a job, maybe even kids down the line. After all, he suffered so much through his childhood shouldn’t he get a break? He put in the work- so where is his reward? He secretly prays for an angel to right the wrongs he sees all around him.

But Dean has given up. He cannot be redeemed. He does not deserve to be saved. He scoffs at the thought of a higher power because if it exists, why would it want to be anywhere near him?

And yet, Dean is rewarded by being personally acknowledged by God and sent a guardian angel- while Sam is tossed a demon.

It all comes down to guilt in the end. Dean was the “perfect son” owing everything to his father (literally and metaphysically) while Sam decided to strike his own path- and by doing so, unconsciously associated himself with Lucifer.

And this theme of blind faith rewarded repeats over and over again. Never question. Always follow. Save the world. It’s your responsibility. No one is going to help you unless you’ve given all of yourself first. And then when you are saved it is not of your own doing. Why ask for thanks or credit? You’re just doing your job. It’s expected of you.

This philosophy- along with the linoleum floored churches with ratty fold out chairs and buzzing overhead lights shown in every season- screams Midwest Protestantism more than any type of Catholicism I’ve ever seen. And I think it’s amazing that this show was able to get across such a cohesive religious commentary entirely on accident.

[papirouge]

What’s are your views on “purity culture” among christians

I think it varies between denominations but the idea is still around mainly fundamentalists. It’s definitely important to teach women how important it is to be picky, believe in hypergamy, and ignore probably the 90% of scrotes that aren’t good people but I never really believed in flat out refusing to teach sex ed, what stds and stis are, what Plan B is, and how birth control and condoms work. Which seems like a lot of these more fundamentalists tend to do.

I had this friend who is divorced now. She grew up in that type of environment where they were very strict about her purity but ignored the boys virginity completely. Like she had two brothers who were total opposites. 1 was basically community dick and caught a disease and her parents didn’t care 💀 the other was an incel who was very anti social. And her parents were upset that they couldn’t marry him off because not even the desperate fundie girls wanted his violent outbursts. He’s still single too and approaching 40

She was married young to her ex and had no idea how sex even worked. She was only told to avoid it and it just scared her. So when she got married, she told me how her parents and church counselor were upset that she didnt turn into someone who liked sex immediately. Even kissing was new to her and she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t like it at all/avoided sleeping in the same as her husband and was told by them to suck it up when she expressed she had pain. When she got older she left that church and her husband but was ex communicated by her family for it.

Does that type of stuff happen in France?

Purity isn't much of a thing anywhere else in the world because as I said, most of USAmerican evangelicalism staples are rooted in culture not in Christianism. I've always found fascinating how France & its very liberal "sex culture" was compared to the US (age of consent is 15 years old, birth control & abortion is free, condoms are handed over in highschool, etc.) yet managed to have proportionally lower abortion rate than God fearing United States of America lol

Fundies family don't exist anywhere else in the world beside the USA anon so nope, we don't have this kind of messy affairs here. Catholicism is in a limbo here in France and real Catholic families are very rare. And even when they do, they don't hold such a spiritual grip on their members to guilt trip them into marrying someone. The only stories of people being excommunicated are bishops coming out as gay or being caught dating/having sex with women lol

The story of your divorced friend is very representative of the double standards of women virginity vs male virginity. Although it's quite normal to particularly warn off women about the consequences of sex because, unlike men, they are the ones who'll carry the baby so they have much more responsibility to deal with (as unfair it may sound). But it doesn't mean men virginity is any less relevant.

Many of women will never want a community d*ck, that's why her busted brother is still single at 40 (which is weird bc red pillers always said men got more value as they got older 🤔).

Fornicators are literally filled with demons and should be avoided at all costs.

And yet, I'm sure he's not shamed like his sister was to marry a man she was even attracted to... Her story is so sad.. but she's better off outside of this cult though. She's lucky she if she didn't have any child with him...

I think kids shouldn't be taught sex ed before middle school. I did in elementary school and it lowkey fucked me up. Even when I was 12-13 years old I had a male friend of my age who told me how many times a week he masturbated and it triggered me so bad lmao

Tbh there should be something progressive, like first learning about sexual organs, periods, how babies are made (12~13 years old), than at 15 about birth control(?) IDK the idea of teaching kids sex at school is weird to me but I think I would be even more traumatized if my mom taught me any of this because we NEVER talk about things like that lmaoo I guess it's important to build a trust relationship with your kid from start so that it's not awkward when you actually do? IDK I lowkey hate the sex talk and wish sex wasn't such a big deal in society so I'm probably not the best person to inquire about that lmaooo

[sepublic]

All of this makes even more sense when you consider that the ultimate antagonist of the show is none other than a literal Puritan, clearly acting in the name of God. To quote a certain tumblr post;

I don’t think it’s any coincidence TOH focuses so much more on restorative justice, with this perspective in mind. We know Dana grew up in a catholic school as a kid, and was once put into a headlock by a nun there, so she clearly speaks from experience when it comes to critiques of Christian rhetoric. The puritans especially focused on constantly atoning for one’s default state of guilty sin, after all.

I think this connects well with how Faust considers children as inherent devils, only for Bump to argue that every child deserves a chance. Characters like Luz and the Collector are children who misbehave, but the show makes it clear that punishment is not the ideal way to handle kids like them; They should be talked to, worked with, and given the chance to improve and get better. In other words, children deserve restorative justice over its retributive counterpart, and you can see how this goes hand in hand with the arcs of Amity, Lilith, and Hunter.

It all comes together in how after encountering Belos, Luz begins to struggle with enormous guilt, feeling the need to basically apologize for her existence and the ‘burden’ she casts on others, having to always make up for it; Especially her supposed sins in helping Belos. Members of the Emperor’s Coven are always reminded of their failures and made to fear them, and constantly compensate their whole lives without any sense of forgiveness or leniency.

Shame is a huge problem that characters struggle with, and learning to overcome that by loving themselves, flaws and all, is a major theme. The way Puritanism has affected American society, as well as Christianity across the globe, has its influence on the constant reminder and repentance for one’s mistakes; Be it as a child or as an adult.

In particular, it’s been a driving force behind queerphobia, which TOH defies, and has demonized neurodivergence; Children were punished for being left-handed, sensory overload towards church bells was seen as a sign of demonic possession, etc. So it’s no wonder that as a response to Christian rhetoric, TOH argues for rehabilitation and forgiveness; People are not damned by past mistakes if they’re willing to change. The only person who can condemn them is themselves, by choosing to not get better.

That brings me to OP’s point on how Belos was given many chances to change for the better, but still chose to be cruel. Even Kikimora is given an entire episode where a tragic side to her character is revealed via her fraught relationship with her mother, and Luz spends the whole storyline giving Kikimora the support to change her life around and become better.

Kikimora has the opportunity clearly presented to her, so it really is her fault when she ultimately chooses the coven anyway, and doubles down as a villain for the rest of the show. Even when the Emperor’s Coven is dissolved and Belos betrays her, Kikimora still chooses to manipulate others in his absence afterwards!

She is free of the coven after the Day of Unity, free from any threat to her life by Belos... But still insists on seizing power. Kikimora is not condemned by circumstance, life was just as fair to her as it was to Lilith and Hunter, other members of the coven who were also given sympathy to get out and actually took their chance. Kikimora ultimately has agency in deciding her role, and it goes with OP’s point that you can only do so much to offer help to people who don’t want to improve.

The Owl House And Restorative Justice

At the end of Season 1 of The Owl House, it is revealed that Lilith, the main overarching antagonist of that season, was the one to curse her sister Eda, one of the protagonists, to win a tournament when they were teenagers. This information causes Eda to fly into a screaming rage and attack Lilith, and understandably so.

Eda’s curse is essentially a chronic illness, one that, in Eda’s own words, has ruined her life, being the reason she’s considered a social outcast and why, before meeting King and Luz, she hadn’t gotten close to anyone in years. In season 2, it’s revealed that the curse is why she pushed away her partner Raine to the point that they broke it off with her, and that during a particularly bad flareup, she accidentally maimed her own father, leaving him half blind and with permanent nerve damage to his hands, making him unable to continue working as a Palisman carver. The curse has ruled Eda’s life for decades now, so to Eda, this is the ultimate betrayal.

In the first episode of Season 2, Lilith has defected from the Emperor’s Coven, split the curse between Eda and herself to mitigate the symptoms for her sister, and has moved in with Eda at the Owl House. While Lilith herself still feels guilty and feels she has to make it up to Eda, everyone else, Eda included, has seemingly either forgiven her or chosen to look past it. Eda even makes fun of her for feeling bad about cursing her, and Lilith’s guilt is seemingly absent for the rest of the series. 

The response to this was… Less than stellar, shall we say. A lot of people were angry, saying Lilith got away with her crimes without even a slap on the wrist, and that Eda’s forgiveness of her was far too sudden.

This isn’t the first time we’ve seen this kind of critique. Amity spent years bullying Willow after her parents forced her to break off their friendship, and when she began trying to mend that relationship, the response from fans was that Willow should have been a lot more angry at Amity, and that they went back to being besties far too soon. I’ve even seen this criticism leveled at Hunter for the things he did while working for Belos, at Vee for impersonating Luz for months to trick her mother, and at Luz for hiding the fact that she helped Philip find the Collector from her friends. And it does seem strange for the show to keep tripping on this same point again and again.

Except, it’s not really. Because I think that, when viewing this show from a different angle, those supposed flaws are actually symptoms of something very important to understand – The Owl House operates on a system of crime and punishment that is very different from our world’s.

More specifically, our world mostly utilizes retributive justice. The world of The Owl House utilizes restorative justice.

So first, what do those terms mean? Broadly, they’re two different forms of handling interpersonal disputes, or dealing with crime. 

Retributive justice is the one our current justice system uses, where the focus is primarily on punishing the perpetrator. Retributive justice can mean detention, suspension, expulsion, jail time, monetary fines, some kinds of community service, exile, or in more severe cases, corporal punishment or the death penalty. It’s the lens most people view the world through, where if someone hurts you, hurting them back is the correct response.

Restorative justice is a very different approach, where you instead focus on helping the victim recover from what happened, and rehabilitating the perpetrator to prevent this from happening again. Restorative justice can look like verbal or written apologies, monetary compensation for costs and trauma, therapy for both victim and perpetrator, education for the perpetrator, mediation between victim and perpetrator, a restraining order, etc. 

When viewed through a retributive lens, The Owl House lets its characters get away with a lot of shit. Lilith cursing Eda, Hunter rounding up Palismen knowing they’ll be killed, Amity tormenting Willow for years, it’s all stuff that, in a retributive environment, they should be punished for, and they’re just not. Eda is only genuinely angry at Lilith for two scenes, Amity and Willow fix their relationship very quickly once Amity starts making amends, and Hunter isn’t punished at all. 

However, I believe the story of The Owl House is best viewed not through a retributive lens, but through a restorative lens.

Let’s look at the Lilith-example again. Lilith’s offense was cursing Eda, which she did because she wanted to win a spot in the Emperor’s Coven. Knowing Eda was better than her, she cast a curse on her, thinking it would only last for a day. But when the time came, Eda forfeited the match, soon after which she transformed into the Owl Beast and was pelted with rocks until she ran. The curse turned out to be very permanent, and Lilith spent the next 20 years trying to fix her mistake by working for Belos to try to capture Eda, since he promised to heal her curse. 

However, when she finally succeeded, Belos went back on his promise. Instead of healing Eda, he ordered her to be publicly executed. When Lilith protested, Belos essentially told her to shut up, that it was the Titan’s will, and left her there. 

So, having realized her method of fixing her mistake has gone real bad, Lilith sneaks down to the Conformatorium to free Eda herself, but arrives too late and finds Luz instead. After a brief fight they end up teaming up, and Lilith leads Luz to the elevator, but they are captured by Belos and Lilith is thrown into the cage with Eda. There, she restores Eda’s partially petrified body, and after fleeing with her, Luz and King, uses a spell to split Eda’s curse evenly between their two bodies.

From a restorative justice point of view, Lilith has done pretty much everything she reasonably could do to fix things. She’s denounced the Emperor’s Coven, returned Owlbert to Luz, helped Luz find the elevator to the execution platform, saved Eda from petrification, apologized to Eda, and while there’s no way for her to cure Eda’s curse entirely, she took on half of the curse at great expense to her own health, in order to ease Eda’s symptoms. 

Eda isn’t angry anymore because in her eyes, Lilith has already fixed things with her. Punishing her more at this point is pointless. What more could Lilith do, really? What other lessons could she learn? The only thing that punishment would bring at this point would be more suffering. 

Let’s look at another example: Amity and Willow.

Amity’s offense was breaking off her friendship with Willow because she was a late-bloomer, bullying her for years, and allowing her friends to do so too. Willow is left with horrible self-esteem issues because of this, and combined with her failing grades, turned her into a horribly shy and withdrawn wallflower (no pun intended). After she’s moved to the plant track she starts actually getting better, but Amity and Boscha especially continue to torment her. While Amity’s bullying of Willow does peter out over time, Willow is clearly still extremely resentful of her. In an attempt to make Willow forget their friendship, Amity accidentally sets most of Willow’s memories on fire, leaving her confused, amnesiac, and unable to grasp basic concepts like that chairs are for sitting in.

Luz pushed Amity into fixing Willow’s brain by going into her mind together and piecing her memories back together. There, the Inner Willow revealed what happened to Luz and the audience.

At this point, Amity shows her that her parents were actually the ones who forced her to end the friendship because they didn’t think Willow was a suitably powerful or influential friend, threatening to make sure Willow would never get accepted into Hexside if Amity didn’t force her to leave. Amity then apologizes to Willow for going along with it, and for the bullying, and vows to make sure her friends never mess with Willow again. 

Willow accepts her apology, but also makes it clear that, while it’s a start, she’s not yet ready to accept Amity in her life again. Restorative justice has not been fully attained, because to Willow, Amity hasn’t fixed everything – Boscha and her squad are still bullying her, and still consider Amity one of them. This changes two episodes later, when Amity tells Boscha to grow the fuck up when she starts bullying Willow again, and joins her and Luz’s Grudgby team despite her personal issues to get Boscha to back off. Willow doesn’t make a grand gesture of forgiveness in this episode, but it is after this point where the two become comfortable around eachother again. 

Did Willow forgive Amity too quickly for years of trauma? Maybe. If she had chosen to continue keeping Amity at a distance I certainly wouldn’t have blamed her. But in the end, Amity fixed the mess she caused as best she could, and has proven herself to want to be a better person, to want to be Willow’s friend again. She worked hard to prove herself to be a person worth trusting, and Willow decided to give that trust a chance again.

And while they did become friends again, that friendship was clearly still affected by what happened, which led to bumps that the two of them had to work through. Like in Labyrinth Runners, where Amity’s overprotectiveness over Willow makes Willow feel like Amity thinks she’s incompetent, and still only sees her as the helpless person she used to be. 

Willow continuing to be mad at Amity and punishing her for what she did wouldn’t be an unreasonable reaction, but it wouldn’t have fixed anything. It would certainly have an impact on Amity, seeing her former best friend rejecting her attempts to make up for what she did, but the hurt on both sides would have continued festering, because deep down, Willow missed Amity too. 

In Hunter’s case, there’s the question of whether he can even be held responsible for his actions. The Palisman-kidnapping in specific was explicitly done under duress – if he failed he would face verbal and physical abuse, and be threatened with his nightmare scenario: getting thrown out of the Emperor’s Coven. 

And that’s not an empty threat either. Hunter has no magic, and Belos has drilled it into him that witches without magic have no future. Without the Emperor’s Coven, his only future prospects would be starving to death on the streets or wasting away in prison. Either way, Hunter would be alone, without family or friends, without a job or job prospects, without anyone to turn to for help. Any child would be terrified of that. Hunter wasn’t always acting on direct orders – in fact he defied direct orders to stay in his room in Eclipse Lake to go look for Titan’s Blood, and then again in Hollow Mind to arrest the rebels. But he made those choices based on the idea that Belos wouldn’t want him if he was a failure, and that he needed a chance to prove that he could still be useful.

And contrary to popular belief, Hunter does know right from wrong. He has a very strong moral compass, he’s just been forced to ignore it in favor of doing whatever the Emperor wants. To shut up that little voice telling him he’s doing the wrong thing, he uses what’s called a thought-terminating cliche, a statement that feels so fundamentally true that the argument need not continue. In Hunter’s case, that statement is “It’s for the greater good.” Sure, kidnapping his new friends and abducting Palismen to feed to the Emperor and threatening someone who’s been nothing but kind to him to take the portal key from her girlfriend and justifying terrorism makes his stomach feel like he swallowed a cactus and saying it out loud makes him sound like a horrible person – but it’s for the greater good. He’s doing it to serve Belos, and Belos knows what’s best. 

So by the time Hunter is out of active danger and able to rest and recover from what happened to him… what would further punishment accomplish? He already knows that he did fucked up shit while working for the EC, and he’s proven time and time again that while he’s not fighting for Belos’s approval, he’s actually a genuinely kind-hearted kid. Punishing him now would likely cause him to react very poorly, because he’s been at the wrong end of that stick so often that he’s developed severe PTSD because of it.

And if you think restorative justice is still in order – Hunter is currently hyperfixated on making sure Belos can never hurt anyone again, and for the long term, he has expressed that he wants to become a Palisman carver when he grows up. While it won’t bring back the Palismen that were killed, it will help the current Palisman population recover and reintroduce Palismen to witches who may have had to give up theirs. 

When viewed through this lens, the writing of The Owl House starts to make more sense. As a show, it is extremely forgiving towards its characters – they’re still held accountable for their actions, but as long as they’re willing to grow and learn and fix the damage they caused, they are very quickly forgiven. 

However, I do understand why these writing choices can be… controversial, so to say. Because it doesn’t feel very satisfying, does it? When someone hurts you on purpose, your first impulse would be to try to hurt them back, that’s just how people work. 

That’s the hardest thing to come to terms with when you become an advocate for prison abolition for example – you’re not just arguing for freeing a guy who got 5 years because a cop found weed in his pockets, you’re arguing for the release, and most importantly, the humanity of some of the most vile, disgusting people this planet has ever produced. Even now, when someone commits a truly awful crime and gets sent to prison for life, my first thought is “Good, I hope they rot in there.” But that’s not justice. That’s just revenge. And revenge is not something we as a society should want to build our justice system on.

It’s not satisfying to see Lilith go from using Luz as a human shield in her fight against Eda to sleeping on the couch in Eda’s house within 2 episodes. It’s not satisfying to see Willow let Amity back into her life when Amity has hurt her so badly before, or to see Hunter become romantically involved with Willow after he literally abducted her the first time they met. But that satisfaction isn’t really the point. Revenge is satisfying in the moment, but an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, and if someone shows a genuine willingness to change, it’s often better to give them a chance to.

However, my final point is about what happens when this approach fails. Because not everyone is willing to change. Some people, when faced with the consequences of their actions, decide to dig their heels in and refuse to admit fault, or blame the victim(s), or use those same thought-terminating cliches that Hunter used to justify their actions, “I was just following orders” being a big one.

And thus, we come to Belos.

If Belos showed a willingness to change, a genuine one, not an attempt at manipulation, should he be given the chance to? That vengeful part of me is VERY empathetically saying no. But logically, reasonably, he should be given that chance, if only because he’s a human being and no human being deserves to be mistreated. That doesn’t mean his victims are obligated to forgive him or be around him again, in fact I think that, for the sake of Hunter’s mental health, Belos should stay as far away from him as humanly possible. But he should be given the chance to start over, to truly better himself and do something good with the rest of his life.

But Belos isn’t willing to change. 

Belos is a product of a bad environment and grew up with a cult-like mentality and hatred for witches that he had to adopt for his own safety. It’s hard to break out of that mentality, but not impossible. Case in point: Caleb. The tragedy of Belos’s character to me is that he had so many chances to change, so many people to help him make that leap, but all of the people who offered him that help ended up dead by his hands because he couldn’t handle the idea that he may have been wrong.

At this point, Belos is stuck. Changing would mean not only giving up on his life’s work, but acknowledging to himself that everything he’s done, mutilating his body, killing his brother, slaughtering thousands and installing himself as God-Emperor of a population he despises more than anything in order to facilitate a genocide, was completely pointless.

He can’t admit that to himself. Especially the thing about Caleb’s death. He’s sunk-cost-fallacied himself so far into a corner that all he can really do when faced with opposing viewpoints is dig his heels in even deeper and lash out in a rage at anyone who challenges him. Even now, when his body is literally falling apart at the seams, he’s still trying to commit witch-genocide, because it’s all he has. 

Restorative justice doesn’t work in this case, because the perpetrator needs to be receptive to it. Logically you would assume the show would default to retributive justice, and characters like Willow and Camila do take a very vengeful glee in imagining themselves beating the snot out of Belos. But right now, the primary motivation of the Hexsquad and Hunter in particular when it comes to Belos is to end the threat he poses. As long as Belos is alive and free, he will continue to hurt and kill people, and if he can’t be talked down, he needs to be either contained or killed to prevent him from causing more harm.

The Owl House provides, in my opinion, a very nuanced take on restorative justice. It shows how it works in action, how different situations impact what it looks like, and what happens when it’s simply not an option. It’s not the most satisfying story to tell your audience, because when someone hurts our babies we want them to suffer, no matter how sorry they say they are. But in this case, I think that sacrificing that bit of audience comfort is worth it to tell the story like this.

[bangtanloverboys]

something sick & twisted (i) // jjk

summary - all your life you considered yourself to be a good kid. you got good grades, went to church every sunday, didn’t go to any parties. you did anything you could to keep yourself on the path to heaven, even if it meant hiding some of the darkest parts of you to yourself. that was how you lived until one day, your no-good roommates decided to take you up to an abandoned cabin in the woods, where you begin to feel yourself corrupt from the inside out

pairing - demon!jungkook x church boy!reader

genre - suspense, smut

word count - 11.4k

warnings - internalized homophobia, catholic guilt, reader is a bit of a straight edge, kinda incubus!jungkook but also not really?, toxic friendships, drugs use (marijuana), driving while intoxicated/high, head injury, hospitals, kinda unconsensual touching?, clubbing, alcohol consumption, kitty gang!jimin shows up, sex dream, blowjob, paranoia, sleep deprivation, (former) youth group leader!namjoon, homophobic parents, masturbation, shame, lot’s of conflicted feelings, voyeurism, some degradation, slight man handling, name calling, spit as lube/improper prep (please don’t do that), loss of virginity, dom!jungkook, sub!reader, top!jungkook, bottom!reader, gay sex, unprotected sex (also don’t do that), non-explicitng praying during sex (um), crying during sex, kinda dacryphilia, marking, accidental selling of the soul

author’s note - the infamous gay demon jungkook is here. . . and here’s here to fuck shit up. i would like to note that if you are religious, i do not recommend reading this. @tipsydipsydo​ since you asked to be tagged. . . hope you enjoy also big shout out to @crazy4myself​ for being my beta for this ily

part ii

All throughout your life, you knew there was something off about you. You could never figure out what it was exactly, but you knew you weren’t like the other boys at your church. It got even more apparent when you started school. You don’t know what it was as you’d play in the dirt, on the field, on the playground with all the other guys; goofing around and having fun. But there was just a piece of you that knew you couldn’t relate to them, entirely.

One day, you were walking past the swingset where a couple of girls were whispering amongst themselves. Curious, you circled around them to get a bit closer. Being as careful as possible, you were able to get close enough to hear them. 

“I think Lucas is the cutest boy in class!”

“No! He’s not!”

“It’s Lucas! And I’m gonna marry him, he’s gonna be my boyfriend one day.”

You were taken aback by their conversation. Not because they were talking about boys, but because they were wrong. The cutest boy in your class was Eric, the boy who sat next to you during reading time and always read Percy Jackson. You’d peer over the edge of your own book to watch his eyes wildly follow the lines on the paper. Sure you lost points for not reading the required amount of pages you were supposed to, but it was worth it.

It wasn’t until the following Sunday that you learned it was wrong.

You sat in horror as the preacher talked about how boys liking other boys was wrong and that they were going to burn in Hell. Shame burned deep in your soul as he continued to talk about how much God hated queer folk. If God hated homosexuals. . . did He hate you too? Looking at your parents, you saw them nod in agreement. Did they hate you too?

After that mass, you made a point not to sit next to Eric anymore. Not that he noticed anyways, he wasn’t exactly your friend. Every night, you prayed to God begging Him not to hate you. To change you, to understand that you didn’t want to be that way. But every day, you still woke up the same.

It wasn’t until you were in a middle school sex ed class that homosexuality was brought up again. The teacher asked the class what they homosexuality was. Prepared with what you had learned from church, you raised your hand proudly, ready to answer. When she called on you, you answered that it was a sin. Within an instant the class erupted into gasps. The teacher gave you a pitiful smile before telling you that it wasn’t a sin and there was nothing inherently wrong with it.

That Tuesday afternoon, you swore the sun shined a little brighter. If it wasn’t wrong, then maybe God didn’t hate you! He loved everyone, maybe the gay thing was a mistake and He did love you! You weren’t going to burn in Hell! When you got home from school and your parents asked you what you learned, you eagerly responded with what the teacher said that being gay wasn’t a sin and that it was okay. The joy you felt earlier melted away into fear as you watched your parents’ faces harden. Your mom stood up from the dinner table, saying she needed to make a call. Leaving you alone with your father, who talked with you for the next 30 minutes about how that teacher was wrong and that you should never ever be gay. You were transferred out of that school.

Years passed and you buried those thoughts and feelings deep inside. You locked it away in a little box and threw away the key. God loved you and He wouldn’t make you gay. . . But it didn’t make sense as to why you were.

Knowing your mortal sin, you did everything in your power to make up for it. To prove to Him that you were never going to act on your desire and be the child of God you were: you prayed every night before bed, went to church every Sunday with your family, attended every Youth Group field trip; you never swore, drank, smoked, partied. Nothing. You were the picture perfect child to the picture perfect family. 

You even had a girlfriend! Although not for very long. Her name was Aera, one of if not the most beautiful girls in school. You dated her for a few months before it ended abruptly. You took her to Senior Prom and when you were driving home, she got rather. . . handsy. By the time you parked, she all but pounced on you. Straddling you, she kissed you feverishly. You sat there frozen, not knowing what to do as her hand traveled down south, where you were still soft in your pants. After a few minutes of you not responding, she pulled away, eyebrows furrowed.

“Are you gay or something?”

“No!” You blurted out, “I-I’m just not ready!”

“Well when are you gonna be ready? It’s been 3 months and I’ve been hinting at it for weeks! Hell, that was the first time we even kissed!” She exclaimed as she pulled herself off of you.

“I-I want to wait until marriage,” you muttered, the excuse falling flat on your tongue. It was true though, you wanted to wait for marriage and wait for the right person. But if you were honest with yourself, that wasn’t the entire reason. 

Rolling her eyes at you, she told you to call her when you weren’t gonna be such a prude. You didn’t call her back.

The remainder of your time at highschool, you didn’t date. Claiming to be too busy studying and your parents didn’t mind. They liked the idea of a studious son, they were proud of it also. Bragging to the other people at your parish on how you never did anything bad, like most of the other kids at your school. The closer you got to graduation, the more they started suggesting Catholic colleges and Universities nearby that either they went to or thought were good schools; but you didn’t want those. You wanted to go to school in a different place, meet and see new people. It took a bit of cooperation, but you were finally able to convince your parents to let you go to a regular college as long as you held up to three rules: stay on top of your school work, don’t go out partying, and most importantly, go to church. 

All of which you managed pretty fine; you were only at college to get an education, nothing more and nothing less. For the past 3 years, those rules still held up and your past roommates were pretty understanding of them and respected your space. 

That was until you got two new roommates, Taehyung and Soekjin, who made an unending game of trying to get you to abandon those rules. A few weeks into the semester, they seemed to have dropped the issue, or so you had thought. 

One night, you were running late for an evening Saturday mass. You’d accidentally missed church last Sunday and it was nearing the weekend and this was the only time you felt you could make it up. It was by mere coincidence that your roommates were also going out that night and offered to drop you off. Relief flooded through you as you accepted the offer, they finally seemed to have learned to respect you. The three of you climbed into Seokjin’s car and you were off. A few minutes go by and you spotted the church in the windshield, and got ready for them to turn into the parking lot. Only the turn wasn’t never made. 

“Uh, guys? You passed it.” You questioned, gesturing to the building that was slowly shrinking into the distance. Looking up, you saw both of them grinning at each other. 

Seokjin made eye contact with you in his rearview mirror. “We know.”

Turning in his seat to face you, Taehyung began to speak. “We just thought that you should be spending your Saturday night doing something fun! You’re almost 21 and you’re still following your parents' rules. Live a little.”

“Those-those aren’t my parents’ rules, I willingly want to go?!” Your explanation fell on deaf ears as Taehyung shifted back in his seat to face the front. He opened up the center console, digging around until he pulled out a plastic baggie with two neatly rolled joints. “What are you-”

Before the question even fully left your mouth, he took one of them out and to his lips. Pulling a lighter from his pockets, he lit the joint. He took a deep inhale before facing you again. “Wanna hit?” Blowing the a thick cloud of smoke in your face.

“No-!” Your shout was cut off with a cough as you accidentally inhaled the smoke. “Turn around now. I’m not comfortable with this!”

“Relax, dude. We’re almost there.” Seokjin chimed in as Taehyung passed the joint to him, his eyes never leaving the road as he took a hit. “You’ve done nothing but study and church, study and church. The school year is almost over and you haven’t done anything!”

“Because I didn’t want to do anything else, now where are we going?!” You were close to screaming as you looked out the windows, seeing nothing but trees and wilderness surrounding the road. You felt like your heart was about to beat out of your chest. “Turn around please!”

“Okay dude, you seriously need to chill.” Taehyung scoffed, blatantly ignoring your pleas. “Either take a hit, or shut up.”

Tears that welled up in your eyes burned as you blinked them back. There were many things you allowed Taehyung and Seokjin to get away with so far: you never bagered them about the smoking or the drinking, or coming home late and intoxicated. In fact, there was more than enough occasion where you’d walk in on them either giving or receiving sexual acts to both women and men alike! You’d ignore the burn in your cheeks and the dark twist in your gut as you slammed the door shut. You respected them and their choices, you had hoped they would do the same for you. But you had thought wrong. 

Helpless in the situation, you bit your tongue. Your hand immediately went to the cross that hung around your neck, trying to find any comfort for your current situation. Closing your eyes, you began to pray. Praying for God to do anything to help you get out of this car and back home. Yet nothing happened. You knew God worked in mysterious ways, but you really needed a miracle right about now and the lack of one wasn’t making your chances look any brighter. 

Fifteen minutes had passed when the car finally stopped. Opening your eyes, you saw the headlights shine onto the front of an old hunting cabin. You watched as Taehyung stubbed out the joint on the leather of the seat, adding onto the several other burn marks along the edge of the seat. 

“We’re here.” Seokjin announced as he opened his door, stepping out into the cool night air, the smoke curling around him.

You remained seated in the car, refusing to move. 

“Come on, Y/N! We promise it’s nothing too bad.” Taehyung whined. “We just want to show you this, then we’ll take you back to the dorm.”

Taking a deep breath, you met his eyes. “Promise?”

“Scouts honor,” he responded, pressing his hand over his heart. 

“Five minutes,” was all you said as you climbed out of the car. Taehyung let out a little cheer as you took in the sight of the cabin before you. The front windows appeared to be broken and the deck looked half rotted away. Despite all the clear evidence pointing to it being abandoned, you felt like something was staring at you from inside. Whatever it was, it clearly wasn’t friendly.

“Alright, let’s go.” Taehyung giddily rubbed his hands together as Seokjin turned on his phone's flash.

Taking careful steps, you all made your way up to the front door that was creaking as it swang idly in the door frame. The feeling of being watched only grew stronger the longer you stood on the front step. Seokjin pushed the door completely open, shining his phone light inside. From the small light, you caught glimpses of red spray paint and taxidermied deer heads on the walls. He took a couple steps forward, Taehyung following close behind. You were about to take your step in, but Seokjin’s phone flashed over some of the graffiti, revealing several pentagrams and demonic looking symbols sprayed all over the walls. You froze in the doorway, your mind and body refusing to step foot near unholy imagery. 

“Get in here!” Taehyung grabbed your wrist, trying to drag you into the cabin by force.

“No. You showed me the freaky house. Take me home.” You resisted his grip, but unfortunately he was stronger than you and pulled you in. As you stumbled in, you heard a loud crunch underfoot. Flinching, you slowly lifted your foot to see the broken fragments of what looked like an animal skull. Feeling the scream coming, you slapped your hand over your mouth in an attempt to muffle it.

Seokjin scoffed at your reaction. “It’s already dead, not like you can hurt it anymore.”

The tears you’d been holding back for so long began to blur your vision as you glared at him. Fed up with your roommates’ behavior, you turned on your heel, ready to walk back out towards the way you came. You did not want to spend another second in the demonic household, but Taehyung stepped in front of you, preventing you from leaving. 

“Nothing is going to come grab you, bro. There’s nothing’s gonna happen.” As if on cue, one of the mounted deer heads fell to the ground, startling you. “Okay maybe stuff is gonna fall because shit’s old as hell. But isn’t this place cool? Seokjin and I heard some of our classmates talk about this place and we wanted to check it out.”

“Yeah, some years ago some kids tried summoning a demon and they started doing messed up shit, like they had no conscience whatsoever.” Seokjin explained as he looked closer at the symbols on the wall. “They got locked up before anything could do anything worse, but they all blamed it on the demon they summoned. Telling them to give into their dark desires.” As he talked, you felt Taehyung standing closer behind you. Almost uncomfortably close. “And according to them, the demon is still around, still at this house.”

“If you’re trying to scare me, it’s not funny. Can we leave now?” You could feel Taehyung practically breathing down your neck, causing heat to crawl over your body. Every bone in your body was telling you to run, but with Taehyung right behind you, you know he’d grab you and keep you here even longer. 

Rustling on the other side of the room had your eyes snap over. There stood Taehyung, poking at the fallen deer head with his foot. A strange mix of relief and fear washed over your body. If Taehyung was over then who was standing behind you?

 Your brain tried to rationalize the situation. Perhaps you were on edge and imagining things, the stuff about demons getting to your head. Or maybe you were contact high from being trapped in that car for so long. No matter how many rational solutions you came up with, none of them felt right. You felt the presence get closer to you, hot air brushing against the shell of your ear like someone was breathing right on it; the faintest touch of lips grazing against your skin. 

“Boo.”

You let out a blood curdling scream as you whipped your body around, throwing your arms about in an attempt to shake off the heated presence that remained attached to your body. You heard the concern calls of Seokjin and Taehyung, trying their best to calm you down. Ignoring them, you bolted out the door, ready to make your way back towards the car and away from this place forever. As you bounded across the deck, you hit a weak spot. The rotted wood giving away to your weight, before you knew it, the world went dark. 

The next thing you knew you were lying down on a bed, machines beeping beside you and antiseptics filled your senses. You were in a hospital. In seconds it all started coming back to you: your roommates, the cabin, the paranoia, the presence. All coupled with a painful throbbing in your skull, reminding you of how you got there. 

Peeling your eyes open, it was bright and blurry; you were able to make out two figures on the other side of the room. They must’ve noticed you waking up because you heard hushed comments and a set of footsteps left the room. Before you knew it, Taehyung appeared overhead. “H-hey Y/N, you with us?”

“What happened?” You muttered.

“You hit your head running out- listen, the doctor-”

“He’s finally awake!” A female voice cut him off, directing both of your attention to her. “Hey Y/N, I’m Dr. Lee. How’s your head?”

“Hurts. How long was I out?” You questioned as the world got more into focus. Glancing out the window, you could see the sky was still dark so it couldn’t have been too long. . . unless it’s been longer than that.

“Only a few hours,” the doctor reassured you with a smile. “Your friends here said you took a tumble at a party, right?”

Your eyes darted to Tae and Jin, who were behind the doctor silently pleading for you to go along with it. They knew what they did was wrong, seeing as they technically kidnapped you. They put your life at risk. They deserved to face the consequences of their actions, you technically could sue them. But then the face of your parents came into view. You knew that if you fessed up about them driving high and taking you to some demonic abandoned cabin, you’d never hear the end of it. You couldn’t tell the truth. You’ve never lied before, and the mere thought of it had you feeling worse than your already pounding head. 

“Right.” Your voice was flat. Behind Dr. Lee, you saw Seokjin and Tae quietly sing your praises as you lied to her, feeling sick to your stomach. 

“Gotcha. Good news is your ankle isn’t sprained or broken, but considering your head injury we’d like to keep you overnight for observation.” She explained. “Your friends are more than welcome to stay-”

“No!” You cut her off. Dr. Lee gave you a bewildered look. “Sorry, it’s just. We’re roommates and maybe I can get some sleep.” You chuckled, to which she seemed to understand. After a few more minutes of checking you up, she told you a nurse would be around with some meds for you then bid you goodbye, leaving you alone with Taehyung and Seokjin once again.

“Hey man, you’re a real one-”

“Just go. I’m tired.” You huffed. While you doubted you’d get any sleep, you wanted to be alone. You needed to process what happened in that cabin and you didn’t need the two buffoons who brought you there to freak you out about it more. Plus, Seokjin snored so a quiet night away from the dorm was more than ideal, it doesn't matter that it’s spent in a hospital. 

Nodding, they said goodbye, mentioning that they’ll pick you up in the morning. Door closed, you let out a sigh of relief. Finally alone, you leaned back onto the hospital bed, all the energy draining from your body. You figured that while you were waiting for a nurse to drop off your meds, it wouldn’t hurt resting your eyes a bit. 

However the rest you received wasn’t exactly restful or comfortable; the dry sheets itching at your exposed skin and a sticky heat crawling down your back. Shifting in the bed, you tried to ignore it, thinking it could possibly be the IV going through your body. The heat only grew though, inching all over your body. As the heat moved, it slowly felt more like. . . hands? Was someone touching you? You laid still, trying to gauge if someone else was in the room with you. Yet you heard nothing; no breathing, no rustling of clothing, nothing. Yet you felt someone was in the room with you and was touching you.

The heat made its way along the front of your torso, circling its way over your pelvic bone. The invisible hands dragged their way over until they rested right above your dick. You held your breath, wanting this sick nightmare to be over. The heart monitor you were connected to was beeping speedily as the unseen fingertips started to drop lower and lower. You could feel the large palm of the hand begin to press against you, causing all the blood in your body to rush towards your cock. This had never happened before. You weren’t sure if you hated it or wanted it to continue. You didn’t move though, your body frozen in a silent dilemma of letting it happen or opening your eyes and confronting the person touching you.

Opposite side of the room, you heard the door click and suddenly the heat left you. Your eyes snapped open, finding a nurse with a tray of medication in hand. Your head swung about the room, but you saw no one else. 

“Sorry if I woke you, I have your meds.” The nurse chuckled. You felt your heart was still racing but the monitor's rhythmic beat was unphased as she approached you. She couldn’t have been that much older than you, you noted. She also seemed to be very peppy for the late hour; but you welcomed it, liking her cheerful attitude as a small distraction. She handed you a small cup of colorful capsules, explaining which ones were which and a bottle of water. 

“Thank you,” you responded after you downed the meds, gulping down the water. After that strange dream? Hot flash? your body welcomed the cool liquid. 

“It’s no problem,” the nurse reassured as you handed her back the small plastic cup. “If you need anything else, press this button right here.” She pointed to the remote that was tucked in the side of the bed, the button labeled NURSE, as she made her way towards the door. 

“Got it.” You nodded. Laying back against the pillow, you shut your eyes. But you could still feel someone was in the room. Unsure if the nurse had left yet, you peeked out of one eye to see if you were alone and you were. You chalked it up to residual paranoia from the dream, but you still felt watched. Closing your eyes again, you muttered a prayer under your breath. You prayed for God to give you a speedy recovery, and for Him to give you a sense of peace from the evening's events. After that, you were able to sleep a bit more easily, yet you still felt a presence in the corner of the room watching you.

A few days have passed since the cabin incident as you’ve dubbed it, and you haven’t spoken much to either Taehyung or Seokjin since they picked you up from the hospital after you received a clean bill of health. Which was an awfully hard task, considering you all shared a dorm. But it was needed. Sooner the semester got over the sooner you’d never have to see them again. 

Unfortunately the strange hot presence you felt at the hospital came with you, always crawling around the back of your neck. You swore you could hear it whispering in your ear sometimes, making you think of things you never in a million years would do. You’d find yourself staring at the half empty bottles of alcohol that Seokjin and Taehyung would leave around the room, imagining yourself drinking them and getting drunk. Or late at night right after you said your nightly prayer, your mind would flash back to one of the many times you walked in on Taehyung going down on some guy you remember seeing on campus; you’d imagine yourself in Taehyung’s place. On your knees, your mouth stuffed full of- 

You’d manage to catch yourself before your mind wandered a bit too far. It was like the angel and devil on your shoulder; only your angel was missing, leaving you alone with the devil, telling you to give in to your darkest desires. 

The thoughts not only plagued your mind when you were awake but when you slept as well. You were never even able to fully remember the dream in its entirety but you were always able to remember the heat that engulfed your entire body and a dark pair of eyes, staring deep into you. You could still feel the eyes on you when you’d wake in the middle of the night, your dick hard and begging to cum. One time, you were unconsciously grinding into your mattress, and you knew how close you were. It was so tempting to give in and let yourself go, the eyes still freshly seared into your mind. But you couldn’t. It was dirty and wrong. With tears in your eyes, you silently prayed to be free of the torment. 

The morning of your twenty-first birthday rolled around. It was a Friday, you had nothing to really do that day. Peeling your eyes open, you stared up at Taehyung’s bed above you, not wanting to look down because you already knew what would happen if you looked. Unfortunately, you’re  getting used to waking up with an nearing on painful morning wood, you have begun a routine of cold showers in the morning, not wanting your roommates to see you. Gathering your things, you made your way to the showers. Maybe if the water gets cold enough, it’ll freeze the hot presence that’s attached itself to you. You think that every time you take the shower, and still as soon as you leave the icy shower, the heat creeps right back up your body. 

By the time you return to your dorm, Seokjin and Taehyung are awake; Taehyung still sitting in his bunk, legs dangling over the side. When you pushed open the door, he met your eyes and a boxy smile grew on his face. 

“Ay, there he is! Man of the hour! Happy birthday, dude!” He cheered as you dropped your pajamas into your dirty laundry.

“Thanks,” you sighed as you laid back down on your bed, pulling out your phone. 

“You gonna do anything today?” Seokjin asked.

You shrugged, you didn’t really have any plans. You didn’t have many friends on campus, one of the many sacrifices you made for focusing on your education. Then with your parents living a few hours away, it was unlikely you’d be able to celebrate with them. Your parents didn’t like drinking anything other than a glass of wine at dinner. Having tasted wine already multiple times each time you had communion, you don’t think you’d have a good time.

“You’re not doing anything for your 21st? You’re a full on legal adult, and you’re not gonna do anything?” 

“Yeah, let us treat you to something.” Jin offered. “See it as a way for us to repay you for. . . you know.” He added on, not so subtly referencing the start of your constant mental torture. 

You opened your mouth to decline, but the words that came out were: “Sure, why not.”

The statement had both you and your roommates frozen in shock. You can’t believe you agreed to that, you want to be mad. You want to be angry and take it back, but the words don’t come out, stuck in the back of your throat. Tae and Jin ignore your state of shock and let out a cheer, happy that you finally agreed to do something quote-unquote not lame.

The entire rest of the day you tried to figure out a way to cancel on them; making up a phone appointment with your mother, a test coming up, a book you wanted to read. Ever since the night where you lied to the doctor, you’ve found lying a bit easier and it was something else added onto your growing list of sins. But the voice in the back of your head told you that they were small, innocent lies. They shouldn’t have that big of any consequence, right?

They dismissed each and every excuse you threw at them, adamant that they were going to give you the best birthday ever. When you refused to get ready, Seokjin all but threw some of your nice Sunday clothes at you after pulling them from your dresser. With no other choice, you let it happen. Best case scenario, they take you to some bar and they’ll buy you something strong that’ll make you sick in minutes, forcing the night to end there. Alas, it didn’t appear they were taking you to a bar.

No, they were taking you to a new club that had just opened that weekend downtown. The three of you waited a near hour in line outside the building before getting let in. Once inside, it looked just as one would expect a club to look. Colorful lights danced across the overly crowded room, the bass of the music thumping loud in your ears. You hated yourself for agreeing to going in the first place, yet that twisted part in you was intrigued by it all. Several times you caught yourself staring at the couples as you passed by them. They didn’t seem to care, too wrapped up in their own pleasure to notice you.

Taehyung and Seokjin led you straight to the bar, where they called for the attention of one of the bartenders, who looked like he would rather be anywhere else. 

“What can I get for you?” He asked, shouting a bit over the loud music. 

“It’s his 21st! Got anything you’d recommend?” Taehyung raised his eyebrows, obviously hoping that maybe it would lower the price on the drinks you’ll order. 

Shifting his attention to you, the bartender asked, “What do you like?”

“Uhh, something easy?” You shrugged, having no idea what to do or say. You were way out of your element. 

The bartender blinked at you for a moment. “I’ll make you a Long Island Iced Tea.” 

You leaned over to Seokjin beside you. “Is that a good one?” 

He didn’t really give you a response, as his eyes were locked on the crowd. Following his gaze, you saw he’d made eye contact with a girl on the dance floor, and was slowly inching in that direction. Rolling your eyes, you turned to face Taehyung again, but he wasn’t there anymore. Glancing around, you found him grinding on the ass of a guy. 

You whipped your head back in front of you, just in time for the bartender to give you your drink. Before you could take it, he asked for your card to pay for the drink. With both Seokjin and Taehyung occupied, it gave you no other choice than to pull out your debit card and hand it over to him with a sigh. So much for it being their treat.

You don’t move from your place at the bar, sipping your drink as you observe the people around you indulge themselves. After a while, you slowly got used to your surroundings. The boom of the music didn’t shake you to your core, and the drink you’d ordered wasn’t all that bad. However, you began to feel the familiar sticky heat surround you accompanied by the sensation of someone watching you. 

Turning away from your drink you stared into the sea of people. With the low lighting and the constant movement, it was difficult to make out anything in particular but something compelled you to continue to stare into the crowd. It was hard to see in the dark, but eventually you spotted who was staring at you and it was a pair of eyes you never thought you’d see wide awake. Leaning against the wall, was a young man, not much older than you, dressed head to toe in red. His long dark hair was slicked back, fully exposing his eyes to you. The same dark eyes you see every night when you go to bed. The air was sucked from your lungs as you gawked at him, unsure of what to do. When you had met his gaze, he didn’t turn around or play coy, only continued to watch you with heavy lidded eyes. With a smirk playing on his lips, he winked at you before vanishing behind a group of people. 

You couldn’t believe what you just saw. The eyes from your dream staring right at you, ready to devour you at any given moment. It had to be the alcohol, no. You were drunk and seeing things. Can you see things when you’re drunk? Or was that a drugged thing? Either way, you couldn’t have seen those eyes. They weren’t real, they were some sort of strange figment of your imagination. 

A tap on your shoulder jerked you out of your spiral. Turning, an extremely beautiful man stood before you; his faded pink hair perfectly tousled, and a smirk pulling on his plump lips. 

“Hey cutie,” his voice was low as he placed his hand on your knee. You froze. Never once in your life has a man ever flirted with you. You were unsure how fast your heart was beating or if it was even still beating at all. “How’re you doing tonight?”

“I- uh, good.” You stuttered out. Was the music getting louder? “H-how are you?”

“Oh what a gentleman,” he purred as his hand crawled up your thigh, his touch was burning. Almost like it was searing into your skin.  “I’m doing good. Thank you. . . What are you doing here tonight, hmm?”

“It’s-It’s my birthday.”

“Oooh,” that seemed to intrigue him even more. “Then, why don’t you let me say happy birthday?” His hand was now dangerously close to your dick, already growing harder against your slacks. 

If your face wasn’t already red, it certainly was now, your cheeks burning as the beautiful man’s gaze flickered down. The voice in your head grew louder, telling you to give in. To let it happen, to indulge yourself in a little sin. You opened your mouth, but before the words were able to come out, you slapped your hand over your mouth. 

The action startled the man in front of you, giving you a puzzling look. “Hey if you don’t want to-”

You don’t let him finish. You scrambled off your seat and made your way towards the exit, not caring that your roommates were still in the building. You needed to get as far away from the club as possible. 

It took a couple hours, but you walked all the way back to campus, not even really caring that you should’ve ordered an Uber. You needed penance, that walk was going to serve at it. You couldn’t believe yourself for what had happened. The small sliver of you that wanted it, that wanted to accept the stranger’s offer. You wanted to throw up, you were so disgusted with yourself. You didn’t deserve an Uber home, you deserved to walk home.

It was nearing 3 am by the time you reached your dorm, you weren’t even sure if Tae and Jin were back yet. You didn’t really care, all you could think about was the aching in your feet and how badly you wanted to sleep. Throwing off your shoes, you flopped into your bunk, not bothering to change out of the nice clothes you were in. 

Alas, even in the world of dreams you couldn’t escape. You dreamt of the beautiful pink haired stranger, his plump lips wrapped around your cock. Mind muddled with lust, you bucked into his mouth, you couldn’t take it anymore. You needed release. You were so close to it too, it was only a matter of seconds. The stranger around your dick met your eyes, and you could feel your gut twist in knots. Overwhelmed, you turned to face the wall, not wanting to see what you knew would happen next. Instead of meeting the wall, you’re face to face with the man and his dark eyes that have been haunting you. A choked moan slipped past your lips, unable to divert your eyes away from his.

“Look at him.” A voice rang in your head. While you did not recognize it, you knew it came from the man. “Look at him while you cum.”

Compelled to follow the order, you glanced down to the pink haired stranger just as the knot in your stomach snapped, shooting your cum into his soft warm mouth. Tears pricked at your eyes as waves of pleasure washed over you. Lewds slurps echoed in the room as he gulped down your release. He pulled himself off you with an obscene pop. 

“Naughty boy.”

You awoke with a start, breathing so hard it felt like you had run 10 miles. The sun shining out your window and the snoring of your roommates had you sighing, it was a dream. It wasn’t real. Moving to sit up, you notice the crotch of your pants are wet. Cringing, you pushed your cover away to reveal a dark circle of wetness in your nice pants. Your eyes welled up as you got up, gathering fresh clothes as quickly as you could, rushing towards the bathroom. 

Dressed in clean clothes, you stared yourself down in the mirror, disgusted with what you’ve become. You used to be so. . . good. Yet ever since that night, that stupid night at that cabin, something has changed you. Because ever since, you felt that heat attached itself to you, you’ve felt dirty and gross. No matter how many times you showered, you’ll never be clean of it.

Unsure what else to do or where to go, you found yourself walking the few blocks to your church. Pulling open the heavy doors, you stepped into the chapel. Usually when you go to church, regardless if there is mass or not, you feel all the tension leave your body. Not this time. It felt like it wound up even tighter. 

You walked past all the pews until you were in front of the altar. Quietly as you could, you tugged the pew kneeler down. Kneeling down, you pressed your hands together, you squeezed your eyes shut, and you prayed. You prayed to God that He’ll forgive you for what you’ve become and for Him to free you of this horrible nightmare that you’ve been living in. You begged Him to deliver you from the sin of your own thoughts. As you prayed, the heat that you’ve grown all too familiar with creeped along your neck, like it was mocking you. Telling you that no matter how much you prayed, or how much you wished to be free, you could never escape it. 

The following weeks, you made every point to avoid sleep and those dreams. You’d stay up hours past the usual time you fall asleep, even up longer than Seokjin and Tae who already stayed up pretty late. You’d stay up reading, completing assignments and studying for tests that weren’t going to happen for a while. The only sleep you’d get was maybe a few hours, but that was only when your body couldn’t stay up any more. Most of the time you’d end up falling asleep at your desk, passing out from complete exhaustion. 

You were absolutely miserable, and it showed as your grades started slipping. By the time Spring Break rolled around, you went from straight As to Cs and Ds. You were glad that parents didn’t get emails or updates on your grades in college because they certainly would have a lot to say.

Getting out of the car, you stared up at your childhood home. You came home for break every semester, but this time around, you truly didn’t want to be here. After the last few weeks, you wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist. But you had no other choice, wanting to appear as if nothing was wrong, you had to see your family.

Shouldering your backpack, you walked up the gravel walkway to the front door. You knocked three times before your mother swung the door open, a bright smile on her face.

“Oh my baby boy is home!” She cooed as she moved to hug you.

“Hi mom.” You sighed as you hugged her back. For a moment, you forgot about everything that happened the past few weeks. You forgot all about the cabin, the dreams, the eyes, the club. Everything. At that moment, you were just a boy hugging his mom. Eventually the moment had to end and she pulled away.

You watched as her face morphed from happy to concerned. “Honey, have you been doing alright? You look tired.”

“Just. . . been having trouble sleeping.” You shrugged.

“Oh, well, go to bed early tonight and sleep in as late as you want. You’re on break now!” She cheered as she fully stepped away from you and into the house. “Come on, we actually have a bit of a surprise for you too.”

Lacing her arm with yours, she all but dragged you into the kitchen where there stood your father and-

“Namjoon?!” 

With the call of his name, he turned to face you, his dimpled grin fully on display. Instantly, you felt warmth spread across your cheeks. Having gone to the same parish as you, Namjoon had been your Youth Group leader when you were in middle school and you thought he was absolutely wonderful; he was always so kind and thoughtful and caring. He was everything you wanted to be in a person. You’d heard plenty of the girls in your group gossip amongst themselves about how hot they thought he was and while you hated it, you agreed. At first you thought you could ignore it; you’d sit next to him and talk to him as often as you could during and after the group meeting. But the closer you felt you got with him, the more you realized the feelings weren’t platonic anymore. Almost overnight, your behavior towards him changed. You’d sit further away from him or in the back, you would only talk to him when absolutely necessary. You thought you were subtle about it, but he had noticed the drastic change; constantly checking up on you and asking if you were doing alright, none of which helped you in your endeavor to stop liking him. Eventually when you aged out of his group, you made a point to not contact him at all. In fact, the last time you think you have even heard of Namjoon was when he got married back in the fall. Your parents had received the invitation, but due to you being away for college, you missed the ceremony. 

“Hey, Y/N! How’ve you been?” He held out his hand for you to shake. As you did so, you felt the familiar heat dragging down your spine. You immediately dropped his hand, as if he was on fire. 

Before he could ask what that was, you answered his question. “Good, good. Just been dealing with school. Nothing much has been happening.”

“Ah, come on, don’t be so modest.” Your father boomed as he put an arm over your shoulders. “He’s the best in his class, aren’t you, son?”

“Y-yeah, definitely.” You squeaked as the lie stumbled over your lips, not even thinking twice about it. The heat continued to steadily inch down your back, creeping along until it reached the waist of your jeans. You squirmed against your father’s hold, you weren’t sure how long you were going to last until it reached. . . other places. 

“It was also his birthday not too long ago, Mr. Twenty-One.” Your dad boasted.

“Oh really well, happy belated birthday.” Namjoon smiled at you, bowing his head a bit. The heat made its way over to your ass and you felt it squeeze you. It took every fiber of you to not make any drastic movement, not wanting to make any more of a scene. 

“Thank you.” You said, giving him a tight smile in return. 

“We were about to sit down for lunch, would you like to join us or would you like to settle in?” Your mom interjected.

Meaning your options were to either suffer through a lunch with the presence touching you and potentially making a fool of yourself, or to hide in your room, leaving you alone with it. That thought alone was enough reason for you to agree to lunch.

Beaming, your mom took your backpack from you saying she’ll put it in your room while you, Namjoon, and your dad went to the backyard where the patio table was all set up. When you sat down, the heat left your body. Which you were thankful for, maybe you could get through the rest of the afternoon without any trouble from it. As you sat quietly, Namjoon and your dad continued their conversation before you came in. It was a few minutes until your mother returned, food in hand. You thanked her as she prepared your plate and handed it to you. You ate in silence, listening to what your parents and Namjoon talked about things that had been happening recently, both in the church and in your family. 

“So Y/N, you have a girlfriend yet?” Your former Youth Group leader asked, taking a sip of his lemonade.

“Oh- No, not yet. Haven’t found anyone.” You answered, giving a tight smile. “I like to focus more on school anyways.”

“Well that’s understandable,” he nodded. “But I do hope you find someone that you like soon.” He smiled.

“Thank you-”

“Oh, did you hear about Yoongi?” Your mother interjected.

“No? What happened, is he okay?” You asked. Min Yoongi was your next door neighbor and childhood best friend, but the two of you grew apart just before highschool started. So to hear his name brought up randomly was cause for a little concern.

“He says he’s bisexual and has a boyfriend!” 

Soon as the words left her mouth, you froze in your seat. You were relieved that nothing bad happened to him, but jealousy and fear washed over your body. After all those years of friendship you had with him, you were suddenly disgusted with him, hating the fact you were such a close friend to someone disrespecting God like that. Yet at the same time, a small part deep inside you felt envious of him. Despite your internal conflict, the news had you looking tentatively to your father who was clenching his jaw. 

“Oh really?” Namjoon spoke first, his tone sounding genuinely curious.

“Mmhmm, his parents were furious and kicked him out. Don’t think we’ll be seeing him again any time soon.” Your mother continued on as she ate her salad.

“Oh, is he going to be alright? Does he need help?” Namjoon furrowed his brows as he set his fork down.

“Don’t think he needs any help considering he chose his path.” Your father said as he whipped his face with a napkin. “Boys shouldn’t mess around with other boys, it’s just not natural. Right, Y/N?”

“Right, dad.” You murmured quietly, the words putting a sour taste in your mouth. You looked down at your plate, picking at it a bit. You wanted the floor to swallow you up. You wanted to scream and cry because you know that if they knew you were like Yoongi, they’d say the same things about you. 

“I wouldn’t exactly say that, Mr. L/N.” Namjoon countered. “Being gay or bisexual isn’t unnatural, as we do see homosexuality among wild animals such as penguins, lions, and primates. These people aren’t choosing to be gay, they just are.”

“God made us the way we are, and He doesn’t make mistakes. Yoongi and all those other homos made their choice.” Your father argued, raising his voice ever so slightly. “What are you gay, Namjoon? You’re defending them so passionately.”

“No I’m not, but my wife is bisexual. Seeing as I’m an ally to her community, it’s only right I speak up on their behalf.” You swore for a moment he glanced in your direction. “But now I feel that I’m not exactly welcome here, so I think it’s time for me to go.”

“You don’t have to do that, Namjoon-” Your mother pleaded as he sat up.

“No, Mrs. L/N, I think I do.”

“I’ll walk you to the door.” You blurted out, catching everyone at the table off guard. Before your father could say a word, you were already out of your seat and walking back inside the house, Namjoon not too far behind you. You don’t turn to face him until you’re both at the front door. “I’m-I’m sorry about that. . .”

“It’s not your fault,” he reassured you, putting a hand on your shoulder. “People fear what they don’t understand.” He gave you a squeeze before dropping his hand. “And uh, if you ever need someone to talk to that’s not your parents or anything, here’s my card.” He pulled a small business card from his pocket, handing it to you. 

“I’m not-” You began to defend yourself but he stopped you. 

“I’m not saying you are, but I’m here for you. As a friend.”

The tips of your ears grew hot as you accepted his card. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” he smiled as he stepped out the front door. “Take care, Y/N.”

“You too.” 

You watched as he walked down the pathway towards the sidewalk. You didn’t shut the door until he was out of sight. Once you couldn’t see him anymore, you shut the door. Feeling tears well up in your eyes, you made your way up to your room, not wanting to speak to your parents for the rest of the day.  

You don’t speak much to your family the rest of your time there, both of them being too busy to entertain you anyways. You spend your time watching Netflix, consuming as many nature documentaries as you possibly could. When you do talk with your parents, it’s very superficial things over the dinner table. 

The strange hot presence still lingers around you, although not as badly as it was when you were at the dorms. It felt weaker almost, like there wasn’t enough fuel around for it to continue. Despite its hindrance, the dreams were still prevalent, but not as bad as they were. The only thing in the dreams were dark eyes and the handsome stranger that they belonged to staring at you. You’d wake up in a cold sweat, those eyes never leaving your mind. You should’ve been relieved that the torment you had been experiencing was finally ceasing, it was the moment you had been praying for. But you almost missed it? You didn't understand why, seeing how the heat always made you feel dirty and shameful. Yet the moment you realized it was gone, you wanted it back. 

The presence must’ve somehow read your mind because the last day of Spring Break, it had returned in full force. As you slept, you dreamt of the same man, loitering in the corner of the room observing you. Heat surrounded your body as he stared, taking the form of hands as it spread across your skin. As it groped you, you felt your cock harden in your boxers. A moan slipped out involuntarily. You didn’t know what part of you missed this, writhing in warped pleasure; but you weren’t sure how much longer you could stand it. The invisible hands made their way over to your neglected member, slipping beneath the fabric of your underwear. A firm grip wrapped around your cock, squeezing it. You bit your lip, trying your best to prevent any noises from falling from you. The invisible hand began to pump you at an agonizingly slow pace, driving you mad. But just before you reached that sweet release. Your eyes snapped open, your body still covered in the blazing heat. 

A low whine escaped you as you slowly came to your senses. Unable to bear the sweltering heat, you pulled off your covers, exposing your sweat-soaked skin to the cool air of your bedroom. You could still feel the aching hard on in your boxers. You were so close to coming in your dream, and you probably still were even now. It probably wouldn’t even take much if you were to-

No. You couldn’t do that. You couldn’t touch yourself. It was wrong, but you could feel your cock practically begging for it to be touched. Your eyes began to burn with tears as you came to your decision. You squeezed your eyes shut as your trembling hand traveled over your boxers. You give yourself an experimental squeeze, eliciting a gasp from you. You then slid your hand underneath.

Your tip was already leaking pre-cum and you hissed as you smeared it with your thumb. You pumped your cock at a cautious pace. Letting out a cry as you struggled to make yourself feel as good as you did in the dream.

“What did I do to deserve this?” You whined out.

“You did nothing.” A deep voice has you sitting up in bed, your hand still loosely wrapped around your cock. The voice is familiar, you’ve heard it before. You know you have. The voice came from the corner of your room, it’s dark for a moment before a figure stepped out from it.  Your breath caught as The man with the dark eyes that’s been haunting you for so long revealed himself. He was dressed in the same outfit from the club all those weeks ago; his animal print shirt more apparent in the low lighting of your bedroom.  You opened your mouth to ask who he was, but words failed to come out. You had to still be dreaming. You had to be stuck in some sort of dream hellscape now as your punishment for missing the torture. “I promise you, you’ve done absolutely nothing.” You watched as his lustful dark eyes drank in your desperate form, a proud smirk on his face.

“Then why is this happening to me?” Your voice returned to you as you pulled your hand from your boxers. “I can’t do this anymore, I want it to stop. Please make it stop.” You pleaded with the stranger as he walked over to your bed. If this was a dream, you might as well let it happen. 

“You want me to make it stop?” He asked, his hand finding your ankle, tracing up your leg. “How badly?”

“So bad. Please please please, I’ll do anything- give anything for it to stop, please!” You begged him. 

“Anything?” His hand traveled further up your leg, reaching your thigh.

“Yes, anything!” You cried.

“Give yourself to me and I’ll make it stop. Once I’m done with you, you won’t feel bad anymore. I promise.” He was dangerously close to your dick, his hand barely grazing over the soiled fabric. Tentatively, you nodded. The stranger’s face grew into a wicked grin as he leaned in close. “That’s all I need.”

Surging forward, his lips met yours, kissing you at a brutal, almost bruising pace. Distracting you with his mouth; his hand pressed against your cock, eliciting a whine from you that he swallowed as he kissed you. He pulled away from your lips, leaving you to chase after them. He cooed at your attempt, but shushed you. 

“I’m in charge here,” he whispered, nibbling a bit at your ear. He kissed down the column of your neck and chest, leaving behind a trail of red and purple marks. Marks that would be gone by the time you awoke from the dream. As he sucked on your neck, his hand slipped past the band of your boxers. “You’re so hard, aren’t you little boy?”

You nodded fervently. “Please.”

“Please what? Are you gonna use your words like a big boy?” He teased as his hand began pumping your cock at a much faster rate than you were, driving you to the edge almost instantly. 

“Fuck me! Please fuck me! I need it, make it stop, please!” You babbled, desperate for him to fulfill his promise and take it away; take away the heat, the pain, the want. Just take it all. You couldn’t stand it anymore. 

With his free hand, the stranger pushed you to lay back down on the bed. Now hovering over you, he kissed you again, licking at the seam of your lips for you to open up. To which you did, and you welcome the intrusion. His tongue tangled with yours as he played with you, drinking in your weak mewls.

You felt like the world was spinning all around you, unable to tell what was up from down or left from right. Your body heat rose little by little as the stranger pleasured you. You could feel your gut tighten, getting closer to orgasm. 

“I’m-I’m gonna-” You sputtered.

Just as you were about to reach your climax, he ripped his hand away, denying you your orgasm.

“No, no! You said you were gonna make it stop!”

“Not like that.” He leered as he pulled away from you. You weren’t given full time to mourn his presence or your orgasm, because he tugged down your boxers, your erection slapping against your stomach. Immediately you felt your face heat up as his eyes darkened. Your hands went to cover yourself, but his hands grabbed your wrists. “No.” He ordered. Meekly, you nodded as you dropped to your sides. 

He stepped away from your bed, you’re about to protest but the words died in your throat as he began to pull off his clothing. You watched in awe as he plucked the buttons of his shirt, revealing golden tan skin. With the shirt on, you didn’t quite gage how muscular he was, but it was evident by now that the man your mind had dreamt up was very well built. When he reached his belt buckle, your averted your eyes, evoking a laugh from him.

“You were fine watching me two seconds ago, don’t you wanna see the full thing, little boy?” He taunted you, the rustling of clothing evident in the background as he shucked off his remaining layers. “Take a look. No shame in that.”

Hesitantly, you turned your head, just in time to see him in his full glory. His cock stood hard and tall. You could feel your face growing hotter as you covered your eyes. He had the most delicious dick you’ve ever seen, granted it was the only one you’ve seen besides your own, but it was beautiful nonetheless. A string of perverted thoughts ran through your mind as you felt him rejoin you on the bed, but he didn't remove your hands. No, instead his hands rested at the back of your knees, pushing them up, showing off your tight little hole for him. 

The stranger held two fingers in front of your face. “Open.” You opened your mouth, and you’re barely given a second to process what he wanted before he pushed his fingers past your lips. “Get my fingers nice and wet. Need to prep you to make sure you can take me.” You were taken back at the order, but you complied, closing your lips around them. You dragged your tongue all over the digits in your mouth before they’re removed. 

You watched as his hand disappeared from your vision. “Eyes on me.” His other hand on your jaw, forcing you to lock eyes with him. You feel the cool, wet appendage against the ring of muscles. Flinching, you tried to wiggle away from him, but his grip on you tightened. You mewled at the feeling, a mix of discomfort and pleasure. “Stay still and look at me!” You stilled as he pushed his finger into you up to  his knuckle. “Shit, you’re so tight. How are you gonna take my cock? Hmm?” He mused to himself as his fingers started to slide in and out of you. You fisted at your sheets, needing something to ground you from the pleasure that was building in you. He was able to stretch you open enough to take two, then three fingers before he declared you ready. 

Once his fingers are out of you, you feel a moment of emptiness before you feel his tip against your hole, already pushing in. Glancing up at him, you watched as a glob of spit fell from his lips, directly onto the head of his dick as he sank into you. A shiver ran down your spine as the spit came in contact with your sensitive hole. He was a good inch or two in before he slammed his hips down into you. 

A strangled moan at the sudden fullness. The dreams you had have never felt this good, this real. You were going to hate yourself in the morning, but you didn't care. You couldn’t care anymore. The stranger promised to make it stop, you weren’t sure how he was going to as a figment of your imagination, but maybe it was a way of convincing yourself to get it over with.

At the sound of your moan, he slapped a hand over your mouth. “As much as I’d love to hear those sweet noises of yours. . . I don’t think we want your parents to wake up and see their good little boy taking cock, now do we?”

His words don’t quite register as he started thrusting into you at a harsh pace. Any other sounds you make are muffled by his hand, making the only sounds in the room the lewd slap of skin against skin. You could feel every ridge of his cock as he pushed in and out of you, driving you delirious. You squeezed your eyes shut, but a harsh slap against your thigh forces you to open them. 

“Hey, I didn’t say you could close your eyes.” He growled. “I want you to look at me while I fuck you open, like the dirty whore you are. Keep them open, or I’ll make sure your parents hear.” His eyes flashed red as he spoke, his threat sounding very real. Your breath hitched as with another pound of his hips, reality came crashing down. 

You weren’t dreaming. The man on top of you- the man inside you was real. The stranger was very real and you were actually having sex with him! Your eyes widened, unable to look away from the filthy sin you were committing, and with a stranger no doubt! Tears burned in your eyes, threatening to spill at any moment. Before you knew it, your lips were moving against his hand  in silent prayers for forgiveness. 

 When the stranger felt your lips moving against his palm, he removed his hand. His face curving into a wicked smile. He must’ve gotten some sick kick out of it as he picked up his pace, thrusting into you faster. The tears that welled up in your eyes started to spill, rolling down your cheeks as you sputtered uncontrollably. Your grip on your sheets tightened as you felt the familiar build up of your orgasm coming up. 

Leaning down to whisper in your ear, he asked. “Do you want me to stop?” 

More tears falling down, you responded. “No.” You wanted this. You wanted this so bad, you didn’t want it to stop. At the moment, you didn’t care if God would send you to Hell because you had gay sex. All you felt-all you wanted was to cum. “No, fuck me. Please, I wanna cum.”

The wicked grin spread across his face once again as he pistoned his hips faster and faster into you. His hand goes to your neglected cock that you’d just realized had been leaking more all over your stomach. Your dick in hand, he began pumping it as best he could while keeping pace with his thrusts. Releasing your grip on your sheets, your hands wrapped around his shoulders pulling him close as you feel yourself inching towards the edge. 

“I-I’m- I’m gonna-” You hiccupped as your gut got tighter and tighter. 

“You’re gonna cum? Huh, all over my cock like a filthy slut?” He jeered as he bucked into you. 

“Yes-! Fuck-! I’m-” You sobbed as he pounded into you, his grip on your cock driving you further into delirium. With another slam of his hip, you cum; spurting out over his hand and your stomach. He rode you through your orgasm, mumbling nonsense to himself. You didn’t quite understand what he was saying, only catching a few phrases about how tight you were and something about his home. With each thrust from him, it sent you further into overstimulation.  

“Gonna fill you with my cum- fuck. Such a good whore.” He groaned. With one last snap of his hips, he joined you in ecstasy; painting your insides white with his essence. He managed a few more sloppy thrusts, before collapsing on top of you.

You both laid there for a few moments, your breaths mixing as you panted. You laid there, bodies hot and sticky before the stranger looked at you. His lips met yours for one more lazy kiss, all tongue and teeth before pulling away and out of you. Your body whined at the loss of his touch. 

With him gone though, the fog in your mind began to clear and you realized what you had done. You felt sick and gross and dirty. But it felt so good. It felt good to give in, to not care about what anyone else thought. The conflicted feelings swirled around you, trying to fully understand what or or why, but all you could do was stare blankly at the ceiling. 

Turning your head to voice your spiral, the stranger shushed you. 

“Shhh, rest, Y/N. Shh.” Saying your name for the first time that night. 

Your body heeded his words, growing tired with each passing moment. But your mind started racing with questions rose up as your eyelids felt heavier and heavier. What had happened? How did he know your name? What was his name? How even did he get in here? You wanted to ask them, but your body was slowly starting to fail, not allowing you to stay lucid enough to question him. The last thing you saw was his smirking face above you.

Your eyelids were heavy the following morning, not wanting to wake up and face the day. You expected any moment for your mother to burst into the room, saying she’s making you goodbye pancakes. But she doesn’t. The longer you wait, the more you realize, you don’t even smell pancakes. You don’t even smell the familiar scent of your parent’s laundry detergent. It was darker and musky.

Your eyes snapped open and you didn't recognize the ceiling. You didn’t know where you were. You attempted to sit up but every muscle in your body screamed in pain. You wondered what you could’ve done to have your body hurt so much, but then the last night’s activities flashed through your mind: the stranger, sex, giving into him. A deep pit of guilt began to build as it all hit you like a truck. 

Ignoring the burning pain in your body as you sat up in bed. Red sheets pooled at your waist as you looked around. You were in a room no bigger than your own with not much furniture besides the large bed you were currently in. Feeling someone shift beside you, you glanced down, meeting the eyes of the stranger lying down next to you.

“What? Did you think I’d let you go after just one round?”

[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, No use of Y/N, third person.

Cw: mentions of Child SA, allusions to the witch trials

Words: 3.1k

[A/N: Sorry for making the bishop so annoying I made myself angry proof-reading this lmao (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 @zaunitearchives

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II.

Noon had started to crack, and Viktor sat still at the edge of his bed, his left leg throbbing with a persistent ache and guilt consuming him as he grappled with the weight of his recent actions. His mind swirled in a tumult of self-condemnation and regret as the looming certainty of facing Father Isidore when he would eventually be called up to the kitchen for lunch weighed over him.

How could he, entrusted with the guidance of others, find himself so lost in the labyrinth of his own sin? It was so easy, too, to feel like the absolutions he offered were hollow, his own inability to forgive himself casting a shadow over the sanctity of his role. And amidst this turmoil, the relentless ache in his left leg—probably due to kneeling for a prolonged stretch of time, but that in the wake of what he had just done felt more akin to divine punishment—served as a reminder of his frailty, both physical and spiritual. 

But pain is purification, suffering gives way to redemption, and penitence is salvation, so isn’t pleasure the correct response after all? If martyrdom is the ultimate act of love, then why shouldn’t agony be met with enjoyment? That was the lie Viktor soothed himself with before deciding to be a step ahead of the altar boys and make his way to the kitchen. 

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

His leg protested with each step, but it seemed insignificant compared to the stinging feeling on his back now that he had the rough fabric rubbing against it. What lingered wasn’t nearly as pleasant as before; however, he felt undeserving of making a fuss about it, it being a punishment—ironically—for a self-inflicted punishment that he shouldn’t have delighted in. 

As he entered, the comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee greeted him, mingling with the faint aroma of incense that clung to his robes and clashing with the uninviting presence of Father Isidore, who sat at the table, steaming cup in hand. 

“Viktor, my son,” he exclaimed in a voice that sounded sweet and as sticky and treacherous as molasses, “I trust you have...repented.”

Viktor clenched his jaw, a wave of trepidation washing over him as he felt his judgmental gaze on him. Viktor severely disliked the special way Father Isidore enunciated; emphasis on certain words never seemed like enough for him; he always made it a point to hiss and spit; his lips thinned out and tense like he was holding in a growl. It didn’t match his childlike guise, and this made Viktor weary of him ever since he was a kid. 

“I have,” he replied tersely, taking a seat opposite his superior’s robust presence. 

"It seems, however, that some of us struggle more than others with the concept of self-control," he remarked, his words dripping with a subtle veil of aggression.

Viktor's stomach churned with resentment. "I am aware of my shortcomings, Father," he retorted, his voice tinged with bitterness. 

“Don’t misunderstand me, son. It is never my intention to prohibit your studies or peg your enthusiasm for learning; you know our monastery has always valued knowledge of the great arts.”

“Until it challenges one of your universal truths, that is.”

“Precisely, are you trying to imply we should challenge the dogma?” 

Viktor stayed silent. 

“Tell me, do you think you are above us all?” 

“Of course I don’t, father.” but he did, and this whole lecture was starting to get old. 

“Then you must clearly think you are above sin. So holy and pure that you are able to read such heretic words and not be tempted by them?” He said this as he got closer to Viktor, his face slowly turning beet red: “unde et corda filiorum hominum implentur malitia et contemptu in vita sua et post haec ad inferos deducentur.”

And then he did the same eyebrow raise he used to do when Viktor was a child, and he was testing his knowledge of the scripture. Viktor sighed, partly in defeat but mostly in annoyance. 

“‘Hence the hearts of the sons of men are filled with malice and contempt in their lives, and after this they are brought down to hell’,” he answered as he instinctively leaned back on the chair, the scorching sensation reminding him why it was a terrible idea. 

“I can tell you are in pain; why must you still be so stubborn, even when you are enduring your penitence on the flesh?” 

“I see no malice in curiosity.”

“Even when you intentionally seek the words of miscreants, knowing full well the danger it presents?”

“I don’t seek dangerous ideals; the universe is, and I simply try to understand it.”

“You are lost, Viktor.” Father Isidore’s lips curled up into a grin of contempt, a show of mockery that made it clear his concern for Viktor’s soul came from a place of scorn. 

“Temptatio vos non adprehendat nisi humana, something something, and God will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear and, eh, I forgot what comes after,” Viktor recited, quiet but defiant. 

“To me, you are nothing but a test of resilience, Viktor. If I have to tear you down myself to build you back up as a God-honoring servant, I will.” He said this as he visibly struggled to disguise his frustration. “Come, I would like you to meet someone.”

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

As they made their way through the narrow streets of the small town, the bustling activity of the market greeted them. Vibrant stalls lined the cobblestone paths, their displays of fresh produce and handmade goods drawing Viktor’s attention. All the while, he wondered who this mysterious person and possible weapon of torture would be. 

Father Isidore walked with an air of authority, his presence commanding respect as he exchanged warm greetings with anyone who crossed their path. Soon they came upon an elderly woman sitting by a small table, adorned with a meager assortment of goods. Her weathered face bore the deep lines of a life well-lived, yet her eyes sparkled with a warmth that belied her frailty. She smiled weakly as they approached, her gnarled hands clasped tightly in her lap.

"Good morning, Father!" called out an elderly woman, her face lighting up with a smile as she approached. "Blessings be upon you." 

He gave back a smile that could've fooled anyone, but Viktor couldn't shake the feeling that there was something calculated in his demeanor. "And to you as well, my dear," Father Isidore replied, his tone tinged with a hint of forced sincerity. "How are you faring today?"

"Oh, just getting by as best I can, Father," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "Times have been hard, but the Lord provides."

"Indeed, He does, and speaking of such, have you been able to fulfill your tithe to the church this month?”

The elderly woman's smile faltered slightly, her gaze dropping to her lap as she fidgeted with the worn fabric of her apron. "I... I'm afraid not, Father," she admitted, her voice barely audible. "Things have been tight lately, with the harvest being poor and all."

His expression hardened imperceptibly, though his tone remained gentle as he pressed the issue. "I understand, my dear," he continued. "But you must remember the importance of supporting the church, especially in these trying times. Perhaps there is something else you could sacrifice to ensure your tithe is met."

Viktor watched in silent anger as the elderly woman's shoulders slumped in resignation, her eyes downcast as she nodded in reluctant agreement. Despite his own discomfort, he couldn't help but feel a surge of rage at the ease with which Father Isidore exploited the vulnerability of this woman for the sake of the church's coffers.

“If I may, Lucida,” Viktor interjected. Different from his superior, he knew the members of their community; he had taken time to know them and had offered his friendship along with his guidance. “You must be forgetting; your daughter has already come to offer lithe on behalf of your family.”

This was a lie, but be it because Lucida’s age was betraying her memory or because she had taken the hint of what Viktor was doing, it didn’t matter. Her mouth shaped into a round O as she nodded at both of them. Father Isidor looked at Viktor with suspicion but did not press the issue any further either, simply dragging Viktor by his free arm to continue on their way. 

A modest house was nestled along the path. Father Isidore announced himself with a drawn-out knock on the solid wood of the door, and the figure of a weary woman appeared as the door peered open. When she saw the men, her feeble demeanor swiftly morphed into visible uneasiness. 

Viktor knew her; she had been at the cathedral at least once, and multiple times she had made herself present at Viktor’s masses in the small town parish. She had never reacted this way to him before, so Viktor knew it was the man beside him who was causing this woman concern. 

“Father Isidore, I’m sorry; I did not expect to see you here,” she cried out, trying to hide the tremble in her voice. 

“Fret not, dear; I haven’t come to collect her yet; I simply wanted Viktor to meet her.” He scrutinized the inside of the house from where he stood before gently pushing the woman aside to enter the house, uninvited. Viktor gave her quiet apologies and small awkward smiles, following close behind him when she gave him a sign to invite him in. 

The woman took them to the other side of the small house; there, the threshold of what seemed to have been a door in the past separated this expanse from the rest of the house. In the dimly lit chamber, a young teenage girl sat on the edge of her bed, her long black twin braids cascading down her shoulders like a dark veil, so dark that if you looked at it under the right light, it might even look blue.

Her posture was slumped, and her slender frame seemed to wilt under an invisible weight. The room around her felt heavy with silence, broken only by the faint sound of her shallow breaths. She looked up to look at them as the three entered, but her once vibrant eyes, now dulled and distant, gazed blankly ahead, unfocused and unseeing. 

“Darling, Father Isidore has come to see you; will you say hi to him and his friend?” Her mother asked delicately as she sat down on the bed next to her. Viktor was stumped; he didn’t remember seeing this girl at any of the functions before or around the town as he ran errands. The girl’s hands lay limply in her lap, fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the faded bedspread as she looked at Father Isidore. 

And very subtly, her once empty gaze welled up with noticeable rage. 

“What do you want, sheep?” Her voice sounded so sweet, yet her words were so filled with venom.

“Careful now; I’m not here to take you yet, but I might change my mind if you decide to get nervy with me.” 

She squinted slightly before giving Father Isidore an empty smirk and snapping her head quickly to look directly at Viktor. “Are you in trouble too? I’m only ever used as an example.” 

“I-eh, I’m not sure.” Viktor pondered her words for a short second: “An example?”

“For what not to do.” She scoffed; she now seemed unaffected by their presence, giggling at Viktor’s confused expression, like he had told her a joke. “What did you do? Illegal medicine?” she asked, and she continued when she received no response. “You’re a priest; did you lay with a woman? Oh, oh, oh, a man, perhaps?”

The amusement in her tone was not enough to cut the tension in the air. Viktor wondered why no one seemed to care about what she was saying, but he figured Father Isidore was attempting to make a point out of this, and her mother was too afraid to do anything that might upset the bishop. 

“I would ask you if you touched a child, but they care considerably less about that than they do about banned...That’s it, isn’t it? You—” She said, now wiggling her feet like she had reverted to an earlier stage of her life. “—are a man of science; I can see in your eyes that you know what heliocentrism is.” She giggled her way through those words and looked at Viktor with wide eyes, awaiting a response. 

A tense silence hung in the air, broken only by the soft shuffle of feet on the worn floorboards as the mother stood by the door, her expression wrought with fear, while Father Isidore's features were etched with thinly veiled frustration.

Suddenly, the girl spoke, her voice soft but tinged with defiance. "You can't stop me, fawner," she said, her words cutting through the heavy silence like a knife. "I won't let you."

Father Isidore's eyes narrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line, as he shot the girl a warning glare. "Enough," he admonished. "You know the consequences of disobedience, and you know what awaits you; don’t make an effort to rush your departure."

With a sense of urgency, the mother hurriedly ushered them toward the door, pleading and apologizing on her daughter’s behalf, and in the onslaught of their departure, Viktor felt a small object slip into his hand. Startled, he glanced down only to see the girl’s swift fingers pressing something into his palm and a pair of brazen eyes that quickly snuck back onto the bed, unnoticed. 

He didn’t dare to look, not as long as he had eyes on him, so he clenched his fist around it, as if something told him he ought not to lose it. Viktor's mind raced with questions, his confusion mounting with each hurried step as they silently walked the path back to the parish. As they climbed the small steps to go inside the building, the bishop spoke. 

“She is being taken to undergo a trial for witchcraft, but I’m sure what you saw made that evident.”

“She doesn’t look like a witch.”

“What do witches look like, son?”

“Wretched, evil, hateful...”

“And is it not evil to go against the dogma of our faith? Is it not wretched to seek deranged ideals like ‘heliocentrism’ and ‘geokinesis’, mad, truly mad things for someone who is fearful of God to believe, and especially wicked for a woman to believe?”

Viktor did not answer. 

“God has great plans for you, Viktor. Do not stray from your path, and you’ll be able to avoid an end like hers” He said, punctuating the last word with a hefty—and ignobly intentional—pat on his back. 

The wounds, still fresh and tender, protested vehemently against the sudden contact, each movement a reminder of the agony that plagued him. He visibly winced and took a sharp breath through gritted teeth, doing his best to suppress the urge to cry out in pain. But it wasn't just the physical discomfort that gnawed at him. Beneath the surface, a simmering anger had been bubbling. 

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

Alone again in the confines of his quarters, Viktor sank to his knees in front of the small wooden crucifix that adorned the wall. His hands trembled as he clasped them together in prayer, his lips moving silently in fervent entreaty. 

“Pater Noster qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum…” He began automatically, but he didn’t know what he had prayed for. 

When the prayer ended, there was silence.

“Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum, benedicta tu in mulieribus…” He started once again, perhaps a mother would pity him.

Silence. 

Anger burned within him like a smoldering ember. The rotund face of Father Isidore plagued his inner thoughts. How could a man of God, a shepherd of the faithful, wield his power with such callous disregard?

But beneath the anger lay a deeper, more insidious emotion: guilt. Guilt for his own weakness, for his depravity, for his inability to rise above the turmoil and find solace in his faith. With a frustrated sigh, Viktor bowed his head lower, his hands clenching into fists as he fought to contain the tempest raging within him. 

"Why?" he whispered, his voice barely audible in the silence of the room. "Why do I pray, day after day, only to be met with silence? Have I been forsaken, abandoned by the very God I serve?"

But as the echoes of his words faded into the darkness, there came no answer, and in that moment of profound solitude, Viktor felt more alone than ever before, until he remembered the small object he had managed to slip into his robes. 

A brass coin, small and thin enough that he could break it with his bare hands if he was not careful. It appeared to have worn off with time, the original color having faded into a dark green, corroded shade. As he held it up to the dim candlelight, the symbol etched into its surface seemed to shimmer—a circle with small letters around its circumference that he couldn’t read. In it there was a smaller circle, and inside of it, even smaller, a strange swirly shape with five triangles on its flat top and a cross in the very center. 

He knew, deep inside, that he recognized what he knew to be the symbol of a creature of darkness and forbidden knowledge. His instincts screamed at him to cast it aside, to rid himself of its tainted influence, but a curious fascination held him captive. In a surge of frustration and desperation, Viktor closed his eyes and clasped the coin tightly in his hands, his lips moving in silent prayer.

“God has failed me; let this be the time I am acknowledged.” For a long moment, nothing happened. The silence stretched on, broken only by the soft whisper of his own breath. But then, just as Viktor's hope began to wane, he felt a strange warmth emanating from the coin, spreading through his fingertips. 

Like a heavy shroud enveloping the room, suffusing the air with palpable tension, the atmosphere shifted, thickening with an otherworldly energy that seemed to hum with ancient power. A chill ran down Viktor's spine when he felt a small hand on his shoulder. As he summoned the courage to gaze upon the figure behind him, he found himself confronted by a sight that defied all comprehension.

The figure of a woman, alluring and terrible but terrifyingly familiar, stood before him. A surge of primal terror mixed with a morbid fascination compelled him to stand his ground, and then he heard her voice. 

“Curious, very curious.” She whispered. 

[hansolmates]

shiver | 14 

banner done by the faaaabulous @dee-ehn​ / @dnrequests

summary; your childhood crush jeon jungkook has changed since he moved out of his small town church community and attended college. when he returns for a christmas mass, you suddenly crave a taste of his fun and carefree life. in exchange, jungkook craves a taste of you pairing; bad boy!jungkook x church girl!reader genre/warnings; childhood friends to lovers, brief childhood friends to enemies, fwb!au, coercion, manipulation, catholic guilt, jungkook is a meanie who eventually turns into a soft tsundere, bicuriosity, sexual exploration, virgin!oc, eventual smut w/c; 1.2k a/n; we love character development in this house!!  [shiver masterpost]

Remember when you told Jungkook that he’s the only person you find relatively attractive? 

There’s two lies attached to that statement. 

One. You don’t find Jungkook just relatively attractive. In the hushed whispers of your mind you can only think to him being akin to a sex demon. Someone stupidly attractive with a power that even makes you keen to submission. 

Two. He no longer is the only person you find more than relatively attractive. 

Sana says her old schoolmates nicknamed her Hani, because her voice rolls off like honey. You wholeheartedly believe that. She’s absolutely gorgeous, and every word she says you lap up with rapt attention. You don’t understand why she’s talking to you of all people, a budding wallflower in the back of the house. Previously, you were with Sana in the backyard, talking it up with some of her study group friends until Hani walked over. Your eyes couldn’t help but glue to the way her jeans painted her legs, the cropped black shirt that knotted just above her chest. Her face is poreless, painted porcelain. 

It pains you to admit that you’re slightly objectifying this beautiful woman, but you can’t believe someone as pretty as her exists. You can’t believe someone as pretty as her would want to get you a drink and talk to you in private. Now you two are walking around the pool, the white lights further illuminating Hani’s starry eyes. 

She stops at the edge of the pool, so that you’re face to face. She slips her hand to your cheek, lightly pinching the flesh. 

“You have such a sweet face,” she cooes.

It makes you shiver slightly, feeling a warmth blooming in your stomach. It quells the gooseflesh on your skin slightly, but you’re still self-conscious. “When you say that, it makes me feel like a kid,” you admit honestly, clutching your arm with your hand to cover your chest.  

“Oh babe, I didn’t mean it like that,” she reaches for your clammy palm, Swarovski encrusted nails glinting in the night as she allows you to reveal your outfit. “You’re stunning. Did Sana help you pick that outfit? It’s a real turner. It’s a good mix of cute n’sexy.” 

You perk up at that, standing up straighter. The color black is a surefire sexy element, but the white lace trim and bow in the neckline add to the loveliness of tonight’s look. “Thank you. You’re right, I’m sorry I said something so silly.” 

“It wasn’t silly,” Hani disagrees smoothly. She’s still holding your hand, rocking it back and forth, “trust me, I don’t feel like an adult half the time.” 

This relaxes you considerably. Eventually the two of you plant yourselves in some lawn chairs, talking about the little things, connections that help you unravel. 

And finally, Hani pulls you closer and whispers in your ear, “So, who are you going home with tonight?” 

Just as  you’re about to answer, you smell him. Lavender and vanilla, it’s undeniably him. It’s a wonder how he’s found you in this big house, considering you went with separate friend groups. How he manages to always gravitate to you, you’ll never understand. 

You sigh, reeling back in your chair so you feel Jungkook’s taut stomach on the back of your head. Moment evidently ruined, you close your eyes and pinch your brows, not daring to look at him. 

“Jungkook,” Hani drolls, “I hear Eunha’s waiting for you upstairs.” 

“Sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Jungkook replies smoothly, squeezing your shoulder, “we need to go home.” 

“Why?” you ask, finally looking up at him incredulously, “we didn’t even go together.” 

“Just come with me. It’s important.” 

It saddens you further that Hani doesn’t make an effort to stop you or Jungkook. She just sends you a teasing smirk, and tells you she hopes to see you at the next party. You smile back and squeeze her hand, before letting Jungkook whisk you outside and onto the streets. 

“Sana left with Momo,” Jungkook provides shortly, “you’ve been drinking and I want to make sure you get home safely.” 

“You didn’t do that the first time, Jungkook.” you reply shortly, crossing your arms as you walk ahead of him. 

“I said I was sorry about that and I’m trying!” he follows you down the sidewalk in the direction of your apartments, matching your quick steps. “C’mon, you can’t be with someone like Hani.” 

“Why, because I’m not pretty like her?” you snap, “you think I’m not good enough to go out with someone as gorgeous as Hani?” 

That has Jungkook freezing in his tracks. He steps in front of you, regarding you with firm eyes. You don’t know why he looks so serious, looking down at you like you’ve committed a heinous crime. “Are you drunk? Why would you say that?” 

“Because I feel embarrassed, Jungkook.” you don’t even care that your eyes are teary and mascara must be running down your waterline. Jungkook has seen you broken and crying hundreds of times for tons of reasons, tonight is no different. “You took me away when I felt like I had a chance with someone—someone cool like her! I feel like a little kid all over again, being pushed around like this and that! Why couldn’t you let me have one moment to myself? Tomorrow morning I’ll have to go back to church and play that dumb young lady act, and pretend that I don’t have desires or wishes to want more for myself!” 

The party is far, far away. Jungkook and you stare at each other. Tears are finally running down your cheeks, and you don’t have the strength to rub them away. You don’t relent when Jungkook pulls you into your arms. He’s never hugged you before, at least since high school, and you’re overwhelmed by the sudden bout of affection. You start crying harder. 

“I didn’t mean it like that—I’d never mean it like that,” Jungkook whispers between your sobs, even though the only people around are the two of you and an old convenience store. “You can have any man or woman you want, Bunny. Believe me. You are so beautiful, so intelligent and witty. They’d be stupid not to want you.” 

“B-but, you made me go—”

“Because Hani’s mean,” Jungkook hushes, “she’s worse than me—worse than I was. She doesn’t play fair and she’s rough with the people she likes. I don’t want you to go home with someone who won’t treat you right, especially for your first time.” 

“Jungkook,” you linger on his name, lips parting in surprise. 

“I’m sorry, I know you want me to give you your space on these types of things. And I want to, I will. Just, not with her alright? You’re better. You’re way better than her.” 

Although you can’t imagine the reputation Hani has because you’re new to town, you know Jungkook. He wouldn’t lie to you about something like this. You invest in his words, let him squeeze you tighter and assure you that it’s all within good intention. He’s following through with his promise of being a better friend, and keeping you by his side. 

And finally, you crack a chuckle. You shake your head, wiping your snot and tears in his navy flannel shirt. “What if I like it mean and rough, Jungkook?” you half joke into his chest. 

Sensing your bantering mood, he returns your laugh. He playfully growls, nipping your ear. You squeal at the feel of teeth on cartilage, squirming in his hold. The play fighting is a ruse however, you quite enjoy the feel of his warmth. 

“Okay, Bunny. Let’s go upstairs and see if being mean and rough is the way to go.”

[ishouldsleepbut]

essay time! just gonna be deconstructing the lyrics i posted above since i got stuff to do

"no god above us/can we repent this sin?" -> lgbtq+ people are often told that god has no place for them (which is stupid by the way. if you believe in god is whatever way, you've got a place with him) and are unfairly forced to choose between themselves and religion. also reads as catholic guilt for me.

"no soul is innocent" -> straight people aren't "purer" than queer people because they're straight. and queer love, trans people, intersex people, aces and aros, all of those aren't inherently "adult" topics. queer people aren't inappropriate!!!

"everybody wants to love" -> everybody deserves to love who they want (or just vibe too; i see you aces and aros). simple.

"you'll never get your mama's wedding ring/father always said you ruined everything/but you prayed/begged and prayed" -> the fact that sadly, a lot of queer people are disowned/kicked out because of who they are. or they aren't out but they see how their family talks about people like them and deep down they know. they wouldn't be accepted if they came out. and trying so so hard to change or hide just to keep the people around them.

"you never meant to start this holy war/but you're trapped" -> queer people just want to live dammit. just let us live without making our existence a debate.

"pack your bags/don't look back" -> self explanatory.

"don't be scared/little child/you're no demon/(you're no demon)/(don't be frightened now)" -> for all the kids who thought they were wrong for just existing. who blamed themselves for fucking up a family that was never really going to fully love them.

"don't be scared/little child/of that feeling" -> similar to the one above except it's talking more about the actual feelings themselves. for every time you felt bad about what you liked (or what you didn't.)

"you're in love/you've found heaven" -> in my mind, this isn't literally about falling in love. it's about finally finding somewhere you can just breathe and exist in. it's okay. you've made it out. you're here and we're so happy to have you. welcome to the queer community <3

found heaven by conan gray is a lgbtq+ anthem fight me

[catholic-character-tournament]

Round 4 - Catholic Character Tournament

Propaganda below ⬇️

Matt

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

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

canonically catholic but dresses like a demon to be quirky

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This man's every coping mechanism is Catholicism.

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

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

64.media.tumblr.com

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

Daredevil Season 2 Episode 3

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

Daredevil Season 3 Episode 13

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

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

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

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

Season 3 episode 1

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

Miles

He was raised in Brooklyn, New York by a Hispanic Puerto Rican mother, so odds are he was raised Catholic.

His mom says "Ay Maria/Ave Maria, este nene me tiene loca!" minor spoilers for Across the Spider Verse, he tells his mom "Benicion" and she replies with "dios te bendiga" (blessing and God Bless you) (or something I don't remember, I've only seen the movie once)

clips

Rio saying Ave Maria

Miles says "bendicion" to his mom

There's something so catholic about the sacrifice Miles makes to be Spider-Man. Putting himself on the side to help his community. And not because he thinks he'll be rewarded with lots of money or praise, but because he loves his community. Good works are not mere external deeds, but the works of love. And love is not mere feelings, but the works of love (charity)

Miguel hates Miles for also being raised Catholic but not having any of the guilt tm

[byronictrash]

some stuff that would be different  in my version of hbo supernatural (season 4)

season 1  season 2  season 3

LAZARUS RISING

dean asking why his body wasn’t salted and cremated like the usual and bobby answering that sam said her brother will need a body when got back (and dean obviously thinking oooh so she made a deal)

after the whole “did you make a deal?> no i didn’t> so how am i out of hell?> bro i have no idea” dean jokes “ok sammy but what are these bangs? it looks like you cutted it yourself” and sam responds “well because i did it” (actually ruby did but she couldn’t tell dean about it yet)

“did you put a cd player in my car?” “i always told you how i hate your tacky rock” “and what’s this? the black parad- samantha are playing your gothic shit in my car? Baby is not the elvira’s car” “dean i thought the car was mine by now”

GOD IT’S ME, DEAN WINCHESTER

the winchesters almost fist fighting because dean refuses to believe that castiel is an angel and sam is like hm ok sounds reasonable (“i knew the altar girl would believe in that bullshit” “dean that’s not about my faith, it’s about the evidences you’re being too ignorant to see” “c’mon sammy if angels existed any hunter would have seen one at some point” “well, you’re a hunter, you saw castiel, mystery solved!”)

METAMORFOSE

travis being a super misguided ally, but still an ally (“sam!! you got tall, kid. how long has it been?” “gotta be 10 years” “so now you’re a woman?” “yep” “that’s wonderful sam, love is love!” “uh... right. thanks travis!”

and finally, after all that half-spoken sore, the siblings air out the dirty laundry (“i know he looks nice but he’s got something evil inside him, in his blood. maybe you can relate” “oh fuck it. wanna know why i’ve been lying to you? because all this bullshit” “like what?” “you talking to me, looking at me like i’m a freak” “i do not-” “even worse, like i’m an idiot who doesn’t know the difference between right and wrong” “you know the difference? lately you’ve strolling a dark road” “you have no idea what i’m going through” “enlighten me then!” “i’ve got demon blood in me dean!! this disease and i can’t do anything about it!!! since i can remember i feel myself dirty and impure and part of me really wanted to believe that it was some kind of catholic guilt because i’m queer but noooo! i’m a whole new level of freak!”)

IT'S THE GREAT PUMPKIN, SAM WINCHESTER

angels literally don’t have the concept of gender, so castiel/the other angels couldn’t care less if sam is a girl or boy, trans or cis

which makes sam and cas's first meeting a little funny because sam, catholic like she is, is all like “omg it’s such an honor! i’ve heard a lot about you” and cas is like “and i you. samantha winchester, the girl with the demon blood”

“the seal must be saved” “but there are a thousand people here” “one thousand two hundred fourteen” “and you’re willing to kill them all?” “samantha, i thought you were a woman of faith, didn’t you read about sodom and gomorrah?”

I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER

sam’s hot girl summer <3 <3 <3

 there would be a scene in the hot girl summer flashback of one of the first times that sam drank blood to exorcise a demon with her mind. so here they are, demon tied in a chair and trapped in a trap, sam with blood all over her chin and ruby looking at her, all heart eyes. Sam tries to do the exorcism but it doesn't work so ruby says sam needs more blood. Sam responds that she’s nauseous and if takes any more she’s gonna puke cause you know voluntary vampirism came too natural in the canon and it disturbs me so the demon, who’s wearing a cheerleader as a vessel, laughs and says "you know sammy, for real women blood tends to be a natural thing”. ruby kills her on the spot (of course, the blood drinking part was omitted when she was telling it to dean)

BUT she told the sex part, which made dean completely disturbed (“christ sam! too much details” “you’re the one who asked it” “and regret it with all of my soul”)

HEAVEN AND HELL

although dean doesn't trust ruby, he's grateful that she took care of sam while he was in hell

so their dynamic became a kind of siblings-in-law who hate each other here

CRISS ANGEL IS A DOUCHEBAG

the magicians would be gay!!!! i want an old married gay couple c’mon!!

gay as fuck to be a magician. what are those cards for? to see your future? with another man??? 

AFTER SCHOOL SPECIAL

parallels of dean calling sam samantha (derogatory) in the high school flashback and samantha (affectively) in the present

1997’s “that kid’s dead! i’m gonna rip his lungs out” “dean its okay” “okay? who the fuck he think he is to mess with my brother, samantha?” VS 2008’s “that ghost is dead! i’m gonna rip his lungs out!!” “nevermind dean” “nevermind? samantha, the asshole just stabbed my sister!!”

SEX AND VIOLENCE

ok first of all, it would be more shown on screen how enamored dean was by the siren guy. when he praised the impala dean just blushed and smiled like a fool

when cara is talking about how life happens and how the person you married for a life can change and etc etc she’s talking about discovering she was a lesbian while being married to her husband

and finally the siren poisoned fight (“you know, i look at you and don't see my sister anymore, i see a total stranger ” “okay, wanna know why i didn’t tell you and how runy and i were hunting down lilith? because you’re weak, too weak to go after her. even without the psychic stuff, i’ve always been a better hunter than you, which is funny because i never wanted this life and you try so hard. i fight better than you, i shoot better than you and my latin sounds like actual latin” “oh sure, speaking in tongues must be very easy for you. hey sammy, when was the last time you did an exorcism without bleeding your nose? dry weather, allergy, what will be your next excuse?” *and now they go to the fist fight*)

to get out of the tense mood a little, based on this post, sam would really believe for years that dean and the siren fucked but she wouldn’t comment nothing with him cause in her head he was just taking his time (which wouldn’t stop her to tease him everytime he got nervous near a hot guy bc queer solidary and sibling hostiliy coexist)

ON THE HEAD OF THE PIN

at the moment the angels show up like hey dean whats up wanna relive your trauma? he starts to hyperventilate

also the whole episode would have flashbacks of dean’s time in hell

when ruby slides into sam's lap and kisses her, it would be much more passionate

 also when ruby cuts herself for sam drink her blood she would totally drop a "good girl" because let's face it, vampirism has such an erotic touch

IT’S A TERRIBLE LIFE

dean smith and samantha wesson meeting would be totally awkward (“do i know you?” “i don’t think so” “sorry, you just look really familiar” “look, i have nothing against trans people, but i am very happily married and i love my wife ok?”)

sam would have a little group of cis girl friends in the office who wouldn’t be ~actively~ transphobic BUT would totally ask inappropriate questions like “do you pee standing or sitting?”, “did you have ~the surgery~?” or “ok but what’s your old name?”

THE MONSTER AT THE END OF THIS BOOK

in the supernatural book series, chuck wrote sam as a cis woman

which was one of the reasons he believed the whole omg my ocs are in my house cause dean was like “nice to meet you, i’m dean winchester and this is my sister samantha” and chuck turned to sam wide eyed like “the name samantha were never in the books, the editor thought it was too long. and the publisher vetoed me from writing you being trans in the first book”

dean gets completely baffled by reading his drinking problems from a third person perspective (“do you think i drink that much sammy?” “dunno man, sometimes you exceed and by sometimes i mean often” “c’mon, it’s not that much” “dude i drove the car most of the times last month because you wasn’t able to and you drank half bottle of vodka alone this monday” “whatever”)

THE RAPTURE

it would be more shown on screen how the first symptoms of blood withdrawn act

like dean would be “hey sam hand me the computer?” and sam “sure” but when passes it to him, he notices that sam is shivering and when asked what is that she just says that she forgot to have breakfast

after dean saw the whole blood drinking and stuff, sam asks dean if he regret not letting gordon killing her. he responds “... no, what kind of question is that?” and she “a question you had to think before answering, apparently”

WHEN THE LEVEE BREAKS

the conversation with child sam hallucination going like “how could you do this to me? we tried so hard to be clean, to be normal and now you do this?” “i tried, sorry” “sorry? that’s all you're gonna say? you think jess would want you to turn into this? she loved you and now you use her name as a martyr” “look im sorry but life doesn’t turn the way you expected when you were 14. even with a white fence house, we were never gonna be normal” “maybe you’re right cause after all we are a freak in the biblical sense”

the whole “i give myself over wholly to serve god and you guys” would be way more gay

dean hallucination saying “c’mon sammy, you really thought you could hide it forever? You were always a monster. no matter how much you pray, you know you only feel good when you're swallowing evil because that's your true nature”

LUCIFER RISING

when sam is killing lilith, her eyes don’t turn black BUT YELLOW!!!