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surrogate-fawn · 1 year ago

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May I... humbly suggest #17 for the ask meme 👀

The Outlaw's Labor (Wild West AU)

Prompt: "I really need to change position"

Characters: Fawn/Newt/Hassan, in a poly marriage. ((Newt & Hassan both belong to @mittysins))

Context: Fawn is the leader of an outlaw gang, and just so happens to be the only woman among them.

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If there was anything Fawn could appreciate about the desert, it was the transformation it made after dark. The unrelenting sun would shatter into twinkling silver pieces all across the sky, the burning sand would become a cool ocean of silk, and the lonely wind came alive with the sounds of nighttime critters.

Fawn heard the wail of a lone coyote somewhere off in the distance. It was separated from its pack, and that made them kindred spirits. She glanced down the hill at the dying embers of the campfire below her, and at the circle of men sleeping around it. Her own empty bedroll lay open in the formation of snoring bodies, between the two boys she'd taken as her husbands.

A small smile graced her lips as she watched her lovers' slumber from afar. Newt had placed his Stetson over his face while his head rested back on his saddle. Hassan lay curled on his side, his long brown hair pulled into a ponytail and the handle of a shiny revolver nestled in his fist. Fawn wondered how the man could be such a ball of nerves but still sleep so close to a loaded weapon.

Her hands moved to cradle the underside of her greatly swollen belly, its curve hardly contained by the fastenings of her shirt. The denim didn't have much give to it and -- even though it was one of Hassan's shirts -- it just barely fit her gravid bump . . . especially now that labor had dropped it low and heavy on her frame. The only sign of pain throughout Fawn's entire being was the shallow sway of her hips as she felt the next contraction starting.

She'd been "keeping watch" atop that hill for a few hours, laboring quietly to herself while gazing down the length of the canyon. It weren't no secret she was keeping; hell, her boys had known the baby was on its way since that afternoon. She'd mostly kept her discomfort to herself all day, until her husbands had asked what was wrong.

Newt had convinced her to make the gang camp early, to give herself plenty of time off Sidewinder's back before labor got too deep. She was grateful he'd talked some sense into her, because she'd been much deeper in labor when they made camp among the hoodoos than she'd been letting on.

It's not that the labor didn't hurt -- it sure as hell did! -- it just wasn't anything Fawn found herself unable to handle. Her reactions to the intensifying pain were so mild, her gang was under the impression her labor had only recently begun. Why cause a stir by correcting them? What on God's earth were those lawless men supposed to do with that information?

While the men of her gang sat around drinking and playing rounds of cards until sunset, Fawn and her husbands had moved to a more private area of the canyon -- where she could feel free to labor away from gawking eyes. Well, except four of 'em.

For the five hours the gang had lollygagged around camp before nightfall, Hassan and Newt had never left her side -- Hassan, especially. He was the one who had gotten her pregnant, there was no mystery there, and he took that responsibility as seriously has he handled his guns.

Hassan's hands trembled with anxiety every time Fawn furrowed her brow in pain, and he'd startled at every tiny groan she uttered. For such a talented and imposing gunslinger, he could act as frightened as a rabbit in a jackal's den. His fear was evident in the fact he never laid a hand on her -- he'd been hesitant to touch her in any way since he learned about the pregnancy, as if she'd suddenly become made of glass. Instead, he'd stood a few feet away and annoyed her with constant suggestions on how to make her labor "easier" -- all of which were total nonsense. Where he got the idea that drinking water somehow opened the womb, she'd never know.

Newt was a more hands-on in his support, offering his wife reassuring backrubs while she rested between contractions. Naturally, he had more innate sympathy to the kind of pain she was experiencing; but he was a bit over-eager to help ease it. He seemed to be under the impression that digging his hands into her sides somehow eased the pain -- when it, in fact, made it much worse. During a contraction, Fawn had needed to bark at him several times to stop touching her before he finally got the message. After that incident, Fawn just wanted to be left alone.

For all their sweetness, her boys had really started to try her patience by the time the stars came out. She'd managed to convince them to sleep for a while -- assuring them that once her labor "started picking up", she'd wake them.

Yeah . . . she never had any intention of doing that.

She'd brought a child into the world before, her husbands hadn't -- but goddamn, if they didn't act like they knew better than her. As the one most experienced in childbirth out of that whole gang of ruffians, Fawn qualified to be her own doctor. She knew what the subtle cues of her body meant as it slowly worked her new baby out of the womb -- that ancient language of birth between mother and child.

"Oh, you're fixin' to come out before sunrise," Fawn thought, internally speaking to her baby. She rocked her hips a bit wider, a huff of air leaving her nostrils as she felt the harsh pinch of her cervix being pulled further over the mass of her child.

The contraction faded away, and the outlaw leader rested her back against a rough pillar of stone -- one of hundreds surrounding their campsite. Auburn ringlets of her hair had escaped the pinned updo she tamed her curls in, falling loose throughout the day's sweat and toil; but now, even in the chill of the night, they clung to the back of her neck.

"Actually," Fawn thought, "you might be comin' a lot sooner than that."

Ever since that morning a pressure had been rolling into her hips like a thunderstorm on the horizon, getting louder and deeper every hour. Now, it was barreling over her.

Another contraction started less than a minute after the last one. Fawn pressed her lips together and furrowed her brow, her hands continuing to support the weight of her low-hanging belly. She felt the heft of her child moving down. With her own hands, she felt the rough outline of its shoulder resting just above the bony squeeze of her pelvis.

"Mmm-hmm, you're comin' a lot sooner than that."

Fawn shuffled around the edge of the rocky pillar, hiding herself from the view of camp behind an outcrop at its base. Her hands moved from her underbelly to her belt buckle as she doubled over with a breathy groan -- the contraction reaching its peak of intensity and refusing to let up. She shimmied her trousers and undergarments down to her knees and held herself in a supported crouch against the jagged rock, her hands splayed out to either side of her.

Lightning flashed behind her eyelids as they closed tight. The pressure was thundering and insistent, pounding on her bones with every heartbeat. Then, the storm inside her finally broke.

Fawn let out a soft sigh of relief when she felt her bag of waters rupture. The immense pressure lessened in an instant as a gout of hot fluid hit the cool sand with a dull splash. Fawn let her head lull back, thankful to the Lord above that she'd thought to remove her trousers before it happened; they were her only pair.

She had no hope of getting her boots and pants off in her condition -- her boys had needed to help her with that for weeks -- so why fret over it? Besides, this would make it easier for her to hike her clothes back up and head into camp once she was done. There was no reason to be indecent around her men . . . her authority was threatened enough as it was by her pregnancy.

To outside eyes, she looked every bit a woman in a desperate plight: outlawed to the wastelands, a price on her head, laboring with no assistance, and preparing to give birth with her most of her clothes still on; but Fawn was the picture of serenity.

"Alright, rugrat, your cushion's gone. Can't be very comfy in there now," Fawn thought with a flood of anticipation. "Are 'ya ready to come out now?"

She gave a few experimental pushes as she felt the next contraction ramping up. With the third timid push, she felt the cold night air enter her canal as her body started to flower open.

"Ooh, yeah," Fawn thought, adjusting her stance to be wider, "you're ready."

When the contraction reached its peak, Fawn pressed her boot heels into the soil and bore down with all her might. She held her breath until she was lightheaded, stopped to exhale, inhaled, and pushed again. Her nails dragged against the rock as her fingers spiked to find better purchase.

Fawn was able to wring about three good pushes from each contraction, but she lost count of how many she endured -- they were starting to bleed into each other. Excess fluid dripped from her folds as she silently worked her baby down. One long, deep push had her skin bulging out obscenely, the head finally slipping down to fill up her canal.

Pressing her back harder against the pillar, Fawn lowered herself into more of a squat, allowing her to bring her hands around. She swiped away the pebbles digging into her palms and put both hands between her legs to explore her progress.

She didn't need a doctor to tell her what was going on, Fawn could feel it all for herself. Her vulva was hot to the touch and firm as a stone wrapped in skin -- everything flushed with blood and straining with the pressure that would soon force it to open.

The pad of her left middle finger accidentally dipped into her enflamed opening, and Fawn let out an involuntary gasp as she felt a bit of damp hair sitting just inside her stretched perineum.

"Oh! Hey'ya, rugrat," she said inside her head. A small chuckle left her dry throat. "I wasn't expectin' 'ya to be there, yet."

Unbidden tears pooled in her eyes, but she blinked them away. It didn't matter if she was in the middle of the desert without a bed or a home to call her own, she felt much more at ease giving birth here than she had her first go-around:

Long before her days as "Fawn", she'd married young -- far, far too young in hindsight -- to a much older man. Her beautiful little Mercy had been born when Fawn herself was still little more than a child, and it had been an agonizing ordeal. Her daughter was yanked into the world with forceps by a doctor who was far too rough. The tongs had left indents on her baby's soft skull for days, and they'd left bruises in their wake. All that pain, all that trauma for them both . . . only for whooping cough to steal her daughter from her arms within the year.

Fawn tilted her head to gaze up at the milky way, and wondered if Mercy was anywhere among those flecks of light. Just to be safe, she blew a kiss to the sky. Then, she readied herself to deliver her second-born.

She reached into the back pocket of her trousers, pulling out the flask she'd snuck out of camp with her. Fawn twisted off the cap with her teeth and drenched her hands in the whiskey. A subdued grunt was the only sound she made as she threw her hands between her legs and dove into another push.

The top of her baby's head began to appear. Fawn's fingerpad traced its shape as it forced her opening to stretch, until that little patch of hair was the rough shape of a teardrop. Fawn pressed her hands to either side of her labia, cradling the bulging near-crown. As she pushed, she held the skin open in preparation of what was to come. It wasn't long until a sharper grunt left her strained throat -- the baby's head stretching her in earnest with her most recent push.

Fawn tried to relax her body as the stinging burn of crowning began, but her thighs and back were aching from holding a squat for so long. She turned her eyes back to the stars as a focal point, admiring their heavenly glow while she bore down on her baby.

Her fingertips lightly pressed on each side of the slimy, squishy bubble of hair as it opened into a proper crown. Long, deep breaths were the closest thing to a scream Fawn allowed herself as the ring of fire branded her between the legs.

Wider, wider, wider, she opened. With each push her fingertips were pulled further apart. God, how much of a head did this child have?! She should've expected the child to be large, Hassan was a biblical giant of a man. She tried opening her legs to make room, but her trousers acted as shackles, only allowing her knees to move about a foot apart.

Fawn threw her head back, teeth clenched and eyes shut tight against the pain she was feeling in every inch of her body now. She tried standing up straighter, but her legs refused to close. Fawn blew out a loud breath from pursed lips as she gave into another desperate effort. She continued to prod at the reddened, stretched skin around the emerging head, hoping to peel as much of it back as possible to move things along.

When she felt a large, trembling hand touch her knee, she didn't need to open her eyes to see who it was that had found her. It was Hassan. She knew his touch very well . . . the evidence of that was currently being born. She'd missed it.

But if Hassan had managed to find her out there in the dark, then where was...?

"We're here, darlin'," a soft voice came from the other side of her. A smaller hand touched her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Ah, there was Newt.

Fawn blinked her eyes open. Once her vision adjusted, the light from the stars and half-moon were enough to see by. She saw the worried creases on the faces of her boys as they knelt in front of her.

"Evenin', fellas," Fawn croaked out. It was the first sentence she'd said aloud in hours, and her voice was parched as her tongue. "You're just in time. The 'lil anklebiter's makin' an appearance."

The boys glanced at each other and almost in unison craned their necks to see between her legs.

Newt's face twisted in an odd mix of shock and awe. "Lord Almighty . . ." he murmured.

Hassan's tanned face went so pale he reflected the moonlight like a mirror.

Fawn whined, bucking her hips as she felt another contraction rearing its ugly head. "Boys, I really need to change position," she said, her tone amazingly subdued for the situation. "I can't . . . can't open my hips enough. Get my trousers off."

The boys leapt into action. Hassan removed her boots with practiced ease and both helped pull her bunched-up trousers the rest of the way down her legs. Freed from her cloth prison, Fawn sank the rest of the way to the ground, her legs falling wide open and bracing on each side of the rocky outcrop.

"God, that's better," Fawn sighed, finally feeling some of her muscles relax.

When their crowning child was fully revealed to them, Hassan put his hand over his mouth and his shoulder slumped against the rock.

"Don't you dare go dark on me, Has," Fawn scolded, her words pinched and breathless as she pushed into her hands. She paused to take in a huge gasp of air. "This is your doin', remember?"

It was as if the baby had been waiting on its fathers to be there, as suddenly every push Fawn gave sent the head surging forward. Even when the pain was at its worst, Fawn never lost her composure. She panted, she hissed, and she gave the occasional quiet groan; but otherwise, she voiced no complaints.

Her boys were still and silent, perhaps too unsure what to do to offer any more unsolicited advice -- thank God. At least they could see for themselves she knew what she was doing.

With the chirping crickets and hooting owls as her background music, Fawn managed to slide the head of her child free in just four more good shoves after changing position.

"Do . . . you need anything?" Hassan timidly asked.

"I just need y'all to be quiet."

It wasn't an insult. With a large head hanging out of her and shoulders already pressing their way through her pelvis, any sound louder than a whisper was making her nauseous.

Fawn breathed deep, her thumb lovingly stroking the cheek of her baby while she waited for their body to turn. She felt their face twitch under her fingers, their mouth opening in a cry that had no breath behind it yet.

"I know, rugrat. I know it's uncomfortable, I'm sorry," she thought, her breath coming in harsh huffs through her nose. "Mama's got 'ya, though. She's got 'ya and your daddies are both here waitin'. It'll be okay, sweetie."

With her next contraction, Fawn made it her mission to push until her baby was out; and, by God, birth that child she did -- feet pressing against rock, hips angled towards the sky, and with both fathers watching on in stunned and obedient silence. The shoulders pressed through one right after the other, and all Fawn had to do was give a gentle tug under the chubby arms once they came free.

The sand under her became drenched as the hips of the baby slipped free of her own. Fawn held the scrunched newborn up in front of her for a few seconds, giving it a quick once-over with her eyes. From what she could tell, he was perfect!

"Well, ain't you a handsome one?" she crooned, laying her son over her stomach. He squirmed face-down on the worn denim of her shirt, whimpering quietly. "Come on, you can do better than that," Fawn encouraged, giving his shoulders a rub.

The newborn must've been exhausted from the hours-long squeeze. He could still only muster enough life to whimper, until his mother gave him a flurry of harsh pats to the butt. Then, he finally cried.

With his very first breath, that little boy proved he had his mother's authority in his blood. Because forty feet downhill, the entire gang was woken to the sound of his cries.

It didn't matter if they'd been sound asleep, they were all going to know his Mama had a new reason to kick their asses.

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((I'd love to receive more prompts for this AU! I'd love to get one that would allow me to continue with the family fluff after this birth scene. I would've added it to this drabble, but I didn't want to get too far away from the prompt/))

Hope you enjoyed!

#birth kink #fawn drabbles #mittysins #poly relationship #borrowed ocs #labor kink #Fawn/Newt/Hassan #Wild West AU #fpreg labor and birth #fpreg

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mazuru7 · 2 months ago

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Just Finished Midnight Mass and I have some (a lot) of feelings...

Finished watching Midnight Mass in two days and three days later it's still on my mind (along with fanfics in the works...)

Firstly, I like the setting of Crockett Island; it has this calming beauty about it with a clear sense of isolation. The houses on the island are small, fitting because they're on an island but the chippings and the bits of dilapidation on the house's exterior is a nice touch. I don't know if the chippings are an effect due to the salty beach air or whatever, but the dilapidation does show the poverty of the Islanders.

Warning I am going to ramble about characters while also adding headcanons for future fanfics...

As an atheist myself, I did like how they went about Riley's character, granted, Mike Flanagan is atheist too. I'm just glad he wasn't a God's Not Dead or a PureFlix stereotype about atheists. I loved his relationship with Erin and maybe because I've been watching a lot of decentering men content and just being emotionally unavailable and unimpressed with getting into a relationship but I liked how he wasn't jealous or had audacity about Erin being pregnant with her ex's baby. He just accepted it and still loved her. (Ugh, in an AU, he would be stepdad, the dad who stepped up). But even though he was an atheist, he respectful of the community's religion.

Me and a lot of other atheists while we don't believe in God, we can see why others do. It brings them peace and even joy and it let's them be apart of something. Hell, sometimes I'm jealous of those who has love and faith in their God. And just like Riley, I research other religions, I even watch Christian TikTok of TikTokers who don't fit into what "Christians" (you know the type) believe are good people. I watch a femme pastor who uses they/she pronouns, a Christian Witch, and Jegaysus. They have the historical and cultural and the linguistics understanding of the Bible, and I appreciate that as someone who wasn't taught that.

But anyway about Riley, what I love the most is his end. Tragic and beautiful. He didn't want to hurt anyone after turning, more than likely thinking he doesn't want to kill someone again like he did to Tara-Beth; he spent his last moments with the woman he always loved, but just like how the Islanders found peace and forgiveness with each other and by each other and God, like how John/Paul found peace and forgiveness with and by Millie while holding Sarah, Hassan and Ali found peace with Allah, Riley found peace and forgiveness within himself. And THAT is just as important as someone finding peace and forgiveness through religion.

And speaking of Erin, let's talk about her. I was sad that she lost her baby, she was so happy to become a mother (she would've been a better mother than her own). Her relationship with Riley is so sweet. I liked that she was quote unquote what "Christianity" (society too) would see as a "fallen woman." She left her Catholic community, she partied and was wild, she got a divorce, was going to be a single mother, but she was still and kind and compassionate person. Which side note, that whole "born from the dust, return to dust" thing can be applied to, I think, to her and Riley, they were from the Island, left, and returned.

Another side note, this, to me, think of the parallels to her and Millie, which in turn causes parallels to John/Paul and Riley. From what Millie talked about from what she was doing in her youth in the Uppards, "Boys and booze," and seeing how old she was and how the societal expectations of girls were (and honestly, still is), Millie too, had a bit of an adventurous side (well, adventurous as she could since she never left the island and was surrounded by her catholic isolated community) and she was called "the mother of whores" by Bev (who we'll get to). She had an affair with a priest.

So, Erin and Millie, being seen as "fallen women," but still being so kind and compassionate, and loving and having small support systems (Erin from Riley and his family, Millie from her daughter) and being brave and strong (Erin left her abusive ex, she literally uses herself to distract the vampire long enough to slice its wings and using the hurt "the clipped wings" trauma her mom did to her to save others, Millie in front of the whole congregation proclaims that her and Sarah will *never* go back into St. Patrick's when John/Paul was up there talking all sorts of wild shit and SHOOTS him, the man she loved, IN THE HEAD, to stop him when he goes all Jim Jones on his congregation. (I love John/Paul, but honey...no).

Both women were "fallen women" who were loved deeply by the men who loved them even when they were apart; who, at least at a certain time, were seen as, what society (Christian and the like) thinks are good men - John/Paul a priest, Riley the "Prodigal Son" (until they fucked up. John/Paul literally brought a vampire to the island and lead to its destruction and Riley killed a girl and was an alcoholic. Both were cast to side - Riley in beginning of the show by many and John/Paul by the end of it by many too. But at the end that didn't matter, because they had the women they loved with them at their ends).

Unlike Bev who uses and manipulates people and does terrible shit to get attention and power and was seen by those who she manipulated as a "good woman," she was abandoned at the end and died alone and a coward, Erin (and Millie), the "fallen women" had love and compassion, they were genuinely loved by those that truly mattered to them and they were saviors, Erin clipping the vampire's wings and Millie forgiveness to John/Paul.

Erin's speech at the end didn't make me cry, but made me feel deeply. You go, Erin and even though I'm iffy on my belief in an afterlife, I hope she's with her baby and Riley.

Now we'll talk about Bev Keane...*sigh.*

Bev, Bev, Bev; I love to hate her, I love the actress that just makes her hateable. She's like the actress who played Umbridge. Such good acting that you just hate them because they're real people who we've met. Granted, I've never really met anyone like Bev, but I've been around judgemental Christians, few in my family and a lot in the church my grandparents went to (non-denomination) just saying some shit about the queer people and Harry Potter (which granted that book should be judge, not because of concept of magic as a whole but it was written by a bad person).

But anyway, Bev got on my nerves the first time she just lets herself into the rectory (someone take away her keys and get her away from poison), because I raised to respect people's houses and it would just irritate me if someone just walked into my personal space especially without warning. Like girl, get out of John/Paul's ass and go home 🙄. Pike the dog was right to bark at you.

Bev's whole thing was about obtaining power and she could do that since the place they were on was an island. If she pulled this shit on the mainland, then yeah, she would have like-minded people listening to her, but she would have a lot of people argue with her and a lot of those people would have facts. But barely anyone on the island opposes her until the end. Sheriff Hassan, rightly, was concerned for the Bible being passed around the school, Bev with no knowledge of Islam or anything thought she knew better but when he corrects her, she freezes, has an "Oh, shit" look in her eyes while the rest of the PTA look actually interested and nodding, learning in what Hassan is saying about his religion and how there are similarities between Islam and Christianity, how Muslims love Jesus and study the Bible too, but Bev shoots that down, taking power by bastardizing scripture, something she does and something familiar to the community.

She doesn't want her faith and inconsequentially herself, even though how she believes is terrible, to have a connection with another faith, another person, that she deems as beneath her. Which is impossible because Islam came after Jesus and Jesus is a prophet in their eyes too, and before Christianity, there was Judaism and Jesus and his disciples were Jewish. Now I want to know how Bev feels about Jewish people, probably not in a good light, and probably refuses to acknowledge that Jesus wasn't white.

This just goes with the theme of not asking questions, not seeking knowledge, just blindly following. Bev takes advantage of that, and lets be honest, what average person actually learns the historical, cultural, and linguistics of the Bible to actually understand the scripture and unravel that what the institution has taught them wasn't right?

...Not that many, right? And you would think as a teacher, Bev would like to learn but doesn't.

I've seen posts around here saying that Bev wants to be John/Paul's Mary Magdalene to his Jesus. I've looked up about Mary Magdalene (love her by the way) and I can see the comparison even in an ironic way when I'll talk about the pop culture persona of Mary Magdalene and what I think is Bev's internalized misogyny and her obsession with Erin and what I think was jealousy of Millie.

Mary Magdalene was a close confidante to Jesus to the point that we today speculate that they probably had a romantic relationship. I, personally, just think that had a spiritually close bond that didn't have or need romance. It was Mary who told the people (while the men where hiding behind close doors) that Christ has returned. Bev sees John/Paul "resurrect" and goes on about spreading the gospel, granted when she figured out who Paul actually was, she was about that whole "he has returned!" thing, but was full on into it when he came back to life. And Bev and Paul do have a relationship, it's fucked up, Bev uses him for his high position and wants to be close to that proximity of power, but Paul uses her too; the island didn't know that he was Monsignor Pruitt, he was a new face to them, therefore not having a relationship with them and even when he is performing miracles, it's Bev telling the people what to do and he lets her because that'll further his plans and he knows what kind of influence Bev has.

But there's also this weird, inkling sense of care underneath. You can make the argument that Bev was just using him and discarded him at the end, that Paul was using her for his goals, but the way she rushed to him when he fainted and held his face, how she immediately wanted to take care of him, how she made him homemade soup, and how she held him when he "resurrected." She looked genuinely upset, thinking that he died but her instinct was to hold him, caress his face, connect their foreheads, whispering to him while crying and being genuinely happy that he was alive. Mike Flanagan on his tumblr said that Bev had feelings for the younger Monsignor.

And after Riley's death while he is grieving, Paul softly touches and caresses Bev's cheek. There is care underneath that fuckery. And I speculate their relationship before Canon. Bev is the only one with keys to hid rectory. Why is that? Was it because when John was starting to get dementia, she was given the keys to help him? Seeing how old he was, in his 80's, he had to have known Bev FOR YEARS; I'm going to use the actress's age for simplicity sake, which is 45 and we know that she was raised on the island. Her mother was the teacher and Joe Collie knew her since grade school, so that means more than likely (likely, I headcanon) that John/Paul watched her grow up. So, she has always seen him as an authority figure, a powerful figure, but not a romantic figure, yet. Through the eyes of a child, adults are gross (and seeing the kind of person she is, she had to learn that from somewhere, so I'm guessing her mother and I can see her mother being like, "we're not going to talk about your body or sex) and by the time she was an adult, 21, he would be in his 60's, still not attractive to a young person.

But John/Paul comes back de-aged, around her age, attractive, with power, but he needs her connection and influence, yeah, she's going to be attracted to that. But then here comes Millie, John's love and mother of his child, you can see at the last episode, Bev put the pieces together, she looks more hurt than angry to me. But instead of cursing John/Paul, she insults Millie. You can say she did it to hurt him to insult his love, but societal and in circles of religion, it's easier to blame and insult the woman than a man, a man with power, even though she discards him when he wasn't useful, told her to stop, and didn't have her in his heart. She still called Millie "the mother of whores," which is wild because pop culture sees Mary Magdalene, the woman Bev is supposed to mirror, as a whore.

Mary Magdalene wasn't a whore, even if she was, that's okay. Jesus hung around them, but there's still that negative connotation about sex work. Pope Gregory XIII in the 6th century combined Mary Magdalene, Mary of Bethany, and the anonymous woman from Luke 7:37, *"...And behold the woman in the city which was a sinner..."* to diminish women's role in Bible. We don't know who this woman is and from my quick research, in Jesus: A Life in Conflict, Crossley and Myles point out that the term "sinner" in the gospels does not have a sexual connotation but in fact refers to "exploitative rich people". They persuasively argue that the "sinner woman" was actually one of the core group of affluent women that were supporting the Jesus followers "out of their resources."

And Bev did that whole money laundering thing, so that with what you will...

So, here's Bev mirroring Mary Magdalene, one of Jesus's confidante and pop culture's hoe, she does help John/Paul and desires him but doesn't act on it because that's not what "good Christian women" do and she has an image to uphold, she looks down on the quote unquote "fallen women" Erin and Millie who are actual good Christian women. Kind and compassionate and was all about love. I think Bev was jealous, Erin lived life (even if she had an abusive mom and ex-husband) and Millie got with a hot priest who still loves her all the while Bev stayed on a boring island, seeped in poverty and the only power she obtained was through manipulation while not being powerful enough like a priest because the Catholic church doesn't really ordain women, I mean there are 200 ordained women priests in the States, but they weren't ordain in the traditional way and I don't think, maybe, more than likely that the institution sees them as real priests.

Oh, God, imagine Bev as a priest...

When Annie Flynn basically said that Bev couldn't stand the thought of God loving anyone else than her, I was thinking, "Oh, it's what Sara Raztresen said on TikTok..." Christians like Bev, I think now, are so and viciously and ferociously insecure in their own existence, their importance, and general standing in the world that they cling to some sort of outside force to validate their own existence. Projecting her own insecurity as faith...

It was really ironic that Bev met her end beside the two people she looked down on the most, Hassan and his son while digging in the sand screaming, alone without love, peace, and no forgiveness. I do love to hate her.

Minor stuff before we get into two hot men and cutie pie who I want to write fanfics of with headcanons, my personal feelings, and rambles...

All of the couples in this show are so cute and as a mainly Canon x Oc writer, I was shocked that I loved all of the couples. I can count on one hand of Canon couples who I don't see making Ocs for. Utena x Anthy (Revolutionary Girl Utena), Maomao x Jinshi (Apothecary Diaries), Darcy x Elizabeth (Pride and Prejudice), Mitsukuni "Honey" Haninozuka x Reiko Kanazuki (OHSHC)...

Uh...

I'll think about it...

Anyway, love the couples. Ed dancing with his wife, them finding each other at the end 😭. Annie calling out Bev was so good and her leading the singing when everyone made their peace, like what Paul said, in times of darkness, we sing. Although I do side-eye her a bit when she said she was glad that Ali "left that behind," and I'm pretty sure she meant Islam.

But everyone making peace and forgiving each other was just beautiful.

Sarah is my wife. She was just so loved by her parents and I just love that fact that she's just accepting the weird shit going on. Like her mom is just de-aging and her bio, true dad is a priest. She's just going with the flow and I liked how smart she was and nobody made a big deal of her being gay. Maybe some did internally but it wouldn't be a good idea to piss off the only doctor on the island. But when she spat out the blood given to her by Paul, rejecting it, even shaking her head no, she knew what would happen and didn't want that. If she was going to die, she was going to do it as a human.

Leeza's speech to Joe Collie was powerful and I hope this was a good representation of disability for disabled people, I can't say anything about it, because I'm not disabled (although I'm 90-95% sure that I'm autistic) and I do like with her and her mom Dolly that we got black Catholic representation. She was brave and badass too at the end.

Joe Collie deserved better, loved his bluntness. I loved that Riley related and cared about him. I wanted that friendship to blossom, dammit! His and Hassan's relationship I enjoyed. Pike deserved better too, he was a good boy. And I, personally, think that it's ironic that he, a dreg in Crockett Island's community, an outsider, someone Jesus would've fought for, literally got sucked dry, ate, killed by Father Paul, someone who represents the corrupted institution.

And now here we are where I babble about two hot guys and a cutie pie who I'll write fanfics of. And these fanfics will deal with and have intersectionality, especially with black women.

I been a nasty girl, nasty, I been a nasty girl, nasty, I been a nasty girl, nasty, I been a nasty, nasty, nasty...

This fine ass mfcker🫦 the reason I watched this show.

This man is clearly still grieving over his wife, he still wears his wedding ring which I just learned muslim men are prohibited from wearing gold and is allowed for women for spiritual reasons. He said that before he met his wife, he wasn't religious and Ali said that he became Muslim (or something along those lines) because of his wife. So, I imagine her having such an influence on him that he took religion seriously. From what him and Ali were talking about when discussing about the miracles, he talked about how kept her faith, even when she was withering away from cancer. He probably admired the way she worshipped and kept her faith.

Despite their disagreements, Hassan and Ali have something they can agree on, whenever Hassan tells Ali to kiss his mother's picture, Ali does so without question. That tells me he misses her too, I mean he is a child that lost his mom, that is something painful to go through. To me, it felt like Hassan was more upset over the possibility of Ali leaving his faith because it would feel like slap to his wife's memory. (And honestly, just me, I got a forced conversion fear feeling, but that's just me because if you know the history of Christianity and forced conversions...ick).

Hassan just wanted to protect his son and keep him safe, keep him away from the Islamophobia he experienced but he ironically brought him to a place where it's isolating and the Islamophobia is still happening, just on a small island. He didn't want to rock the boat and cause problems to people who just ready to jump him and attack. But honestly, it didn't matter if he didn't fit the stereotype or did, he wasn't respected some people because of who he was. And as a black person, this reminds me of respectability politics which has its own issues but still...

At the end, he did what did before arriving at Crockett Island, protecting people and got to do what he missed, praying with his son.

Fanfic Idea, probably an AU where vampires don't exist or follows Canon, I don't know yet, but anyway, black revert muslim Aaliyah Ambroise has been husband hunting for awhile and job hunting after she quit being a history professor for personal reasons. She and her friends go to a Muslim singles event (I decided it was a skating event) where she meets Hassan who's just there to support a friend. They surprisingly hit it off and afterwards she gets a job as a teacher on Crockett Island where she meets Hassan again.

This will have an older woman, 39-40 years old and on the thicker side in terms of body, hijabi fashion, a revert, a black woman, topics of ageism, misogyny, racism, colorism, stereotypes, toxic family, women's health issues (Aaliyah has endometriosis), finding love after losing a partner and connecting with a future stepson.

Since we did Hassan, we'll do cutie pie, his son, Ali.

He just wanted to fit in, to belong and I've been that only black kid in a classroom of white kids and it was so awkward especially when we had to talk about slavery, so I can guess how it was being the only Muslim kid. I do wonder if he had friends on the mainland when his dad and him went to mosque on Fridays, and maybe that made him feel connected or awkward because these are friends you only see on Friday while thinking about possibly choosing to go the Christian God.

But anyway who else felt so offended when Bev called him 'Boy' at the last episode? I did, I lurched. That was when he realized that it didn't matter, he didn't matter to these people, they just wanted him to be a sheep, and maybe Bev felt this condescending superiority for taking away Hassan's son from him. I've seen "Christians," you know the type, how they behave when they convert someone, there's this air of arrogance...ick.

But I'm so happy that Ali was the one to burn the last safe space on the island, realizing and coming to terms with that these people will never accept him, no matter what. And he dragged his dad east where mecca is pointed at, the beach is calm, the sun is rising, and he's leading the prayer, something his dad and him did together. And at the end, he's holding on to his dad as he burns, accepting Allah back in his heart. I've seen Muslim paintings of them on fire, but golden fire and as he burns he looks like something holy. Have you ever seen what a halo looks like in Islamic art?

Yep, looks like fire.

But anyway, fanfic idea of Ali. New girl Yelena Spinoza, she insists of being called "Lena," moves to the island to care for her grandma and she doesn't even try to fit in. She's a afro-russian-cuban Jewish girl and Goth, but from the few instances where they do talk, Ali finds her quite charming.

This will be more of a teen romance, first love type story, puppy love, school drama, food, antisemitism, racism, misogyny, health concerns (Lena is celiac), reconciliation between family, learning to accept yourself, finding who your real friends are, and a grandmother who knitted a black blanket with the star of david for her Lenochka, because that's what Goths like, right?

And now we're getting to this man who started everything...

Mummy don't know daddy's getting hot, At the body shop, doing something unholy, He's sat back while she's dropping it, she be popping it...

God, he's such a slut.

So much has been said about this man already and I agree with a lot of them, so I'll keep this brief. Although I will say, that while I do love the Islanders, their refusal to see that old man John was sicker than he was, riddled with dementia, sending him away by himself to Jerusalem, reminds me of the "Let God handle it" blind faith I heard when I was a child and not get any professional help. Granted that costs money, then granted again, get John, Leeza, Joe, the Shabazz's...get all of the traumatized people some actual help.

But anyway, this man has caused so much shit and I love him. Everything he did was for love, he cared so much, and wanted the life he didn't have with Millie and Sarah. But that was his downfall, the desperation, he wanted to help the islanders and the intensity of his feelings caused Crockett Island to burn. Very Shakespearean.

This main was still grieving over his sister Alice, he became a whole priest to understand why did she die, especially in a horrible way. How could that be God's plan? He couldn't accept that things can just happen for no reason and that there doesn't need to be a reason behind everything. Life can just suck. He couldn't accept that because, to me, that'll mean Alice's death meant nothing, that she meant nothing, which further means that his death will mean nothing, he means nothing, and that just means death means nothing and life means nothing. How could that be God's plan? Why make people? Why let them suffer? There *has* to be a reason for him.

He might be a calm person, but he feels intensely. He can hold in his irritation, staring on and moving his fingers, but damn, when he explodes...he screams at Riley when trying to gaslight him, his first response when Sarah is shot is to throw himself on Struge and strangle him, that was instinctual, and he screams "WHERE ARE YOU?!" outside of the rec center after pacing like a fiend needing a fix, wondering where his "angel" was (ironically happens after an AA meeting with Riley and Vampirism has been used as a metaphor for addiction).

This man felt so much, his stubbornness, his refusal to see the "angel" is a monster (once again, the theme of not asking questions and blindly going along with it) and it wasn't until the end, he realized his huge mistake. But at the end of everything, he doesn't ask for God's forgiveness, he throws away his clerical collar, becoming the father he wanted to be, and ask for Millie's forgiveness because that's who mattered to him the most and she, their relationship, their daughter wasn't a sin. How could love be a sin?

Now, here's my fanfic idea, it's 1967, pre-canon, when John Pruitt becomes the new priest for Crockett Island and the welcoming committee is one person because he was brought to them early. And from that moment, him and Lydia Mangiaracina were connected.

This is more of a forbidden love story between a priest and a lay woman, midwifery, fertility issues, medical fears, Island gossip, historical events, singing/music (especially opera), racism, misogyny, ableism (Lydia has a limp), societal pressures, war, herbs and witchcraft (African-American hoodoo and Sicilian stregheria, because that's her heritage).

So, yeah, those are my two cents, my thoughts, feelings, and future fanfics, and I'm done rambling.

#Midnight Mass #midnight mass spoilers #midnight mass fanfiction #black oc #black writers #father paul hill #hassan el shabbaz #riley flynn #erin greene #bev keane #sarah gunning #mildred gunning #intersectionality #vampires #romance #writing

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