#or lapsed catholic

[gooboogy]

I have a catholicism detector I spy a character and I point You are Catholic, many such cases

[epiphainie]

obviously with tommy gone and unaware that buck is pregnant, eddie is the one who takes care of him through his pregnancy. buck did take care of eddie and his child gazillion times if not more, and even if he didn't, eddie would be here for buck because buck is his best friend and buck is his person and buck is in a very vulnerable place. and maybe one part of him likes being at buck's beck and call because he failed to do it for shannon. maybe, just maybe, eddie is treating this like penance for all his sins, for all the times he let down his wife and his son, and he realizes on a particularly bitchy day of buck's that he loves every minute of it. it feels cleansing, it feels right, it feels like an atonement.

and tommy, tommy comes back. tommy learns that buck is pregnant, and maybe they're trying again, maybe not, but tommy sees how eddie has taken that responsibility on. how when buck expects something he doesn't expect it from tommy, but he expects it from eddie, because eddie was the one there with the belly rubs and middle of the night drives for midnight cravings and every checkup at the doctor's and every moment of fear and anxiety buck experienced. and tommy can't even look eddie in the eyes because that's his child and his boyfriend and he should have been the one doing all that and he needs to take eddie down in a couple rounds of muay thai to gain any normalcy about this

[backmarkerr]

Kimi + Seb + Carlos aka my holy trinity

[pinayelf-archive]

okay but I think it IS nice to see cullen be friends w a lot of women. it's refreshing to see in a game where like the strong, silent, masculine type is in genuine friendships w women and is explicitly shown that he respects them despite not having any romantic intentions towards them

yes I know this is a bare minimum irl but like I said it's NICE to see it in media

*if you dislike cullen pls don't post hate on this thank u, u may do that on ur own post 👍🏽*

[the-woman-upstairs]

We’ve really got a “oh boy TWO cakes” scenario with both Immaculate and The First Omen in theaters right now. Highly recommend both if you’re a horror fan who enjoys films that take the Catholic Church to task for aiding and abetting in the abuse of women for the sake of gaining/maintaining power that also don’t hold back on depicting the full horror of pregnancy.

[adolin]

arguably the best comment one could hope to receive on a locked tomb fic

[wreckedandpolemic]

she's got a boyfriend anyway - matty healy

part iv - got him on the phone

(mdni) the obligatory call me when you're bored fic, alternatively titled does he take care of you?

Michael is grunting on top of you, sweaty and panting. Your eyes are screwed tightly shut as you moan fakely, dead still except for the mattress bouncing in time with his weak thrusts. You slide a hand between your legs and circle your clit, gasping when you finally get a burst of pleasure. Then, Michael pulls your hand away.

“You’re gonna come on my cock, baby,” he insists, and you swallow a disappointed groan. He has this complex about making you come all by himself, as if he’s less of a man if you play with your clit a little. Just a few more days, you tell yourself. Then he’ll go home and you can break up from a safe distance.

Your fabricated moans come out robotically, your hips rocking in an attempt to feel any real pleasure. Matty would never fuck you like this; Matty knows how to make you come, and, crucially, he likes it. You imagine him on top of you instead, fucking you into the mattress; his hips meeting yours in that sweetly desperate way; his calloused fingers playing with your clit, making you squirm with pleasure. His name springs to your lips, and you bite down hard to keep it from escaping.

“Are you close, baby?” Michael moans in your ear, snapping you back to the present moment.

“Yeah,” you reply, voice thick and breathy and utterly fake. He brings a hand down to your cunt and you wonder if this will be the time he finally gets it right, the barest brush over your clit hitching your breath. Then he drags it further down, rubbing futilely at your folds, and you resign yourself back to your artificial whining.

Minutes later, your performed orgasm already faded to the back of your mind, Michael rolls off you and throws away the condom. A shudder runs through you as you remember letting Matty fuck you raw, how all-consuming your need for him was that night, that you’ve longed for him every time Michael has put his hands on you in the days since. You burrow back into your sheets, squeezing your eyes shut against the stab of guilt as Michael speaks. 

“Gonna run to Tesco and grab some bits. You need anything?” he asks, smiling that sweet, gentle smile that makes you remember why you fell for him in the first place. God, you’re going to Hell.

You shake your head, blinking sleepily up at him. “No, thanks. You know where you’re going?” you ask, praying he won’t ask you to come with him. He hasn’t noticed, yet, that you’ve been avoiding him as much as physically possible in your two-bedroom house, always engrossed in your phone, or with your nose in a book, or dragging him to meet your friends. If you’re forced to sit with the weight of your sins for too long, you know your house of cards is going to come tumbling down.

He nods, pressing a soft kiss to your temple that aches in your chest. You don’t deserve him, his kindness, his care; your heart is callous, traitorous. Worst of all, even now, it yearns for Matty. The door clicks shut as you grapple with your scruples, your moral compass spinning out of control. It’s almost like your guilt is tethered to him, fading to a faint hum and then falling completely silent when your front door swings closed.

There’s a buzzing under your skin, your body pleading pathetically for the pleasure it was denied, your organs a knotted mess of desire and shame. You can’t keep up the pretence of righteousness for long, can't lie to yourself the way you lie to Michael. Your hands are sure and steady as you dial Matty’s number.

“Hello?” He sounds bleary, sleep-addled. It’s 12pm; practically sunup for him. Closing your eyes, you can almost cast yourself curled up in bed with him, his body warm against yours, his lips soft at your neck.

“Hi,” you begin, biting your lip. “I was just thinking about you…” You trail off, waiting for Matty to pick up his cue. This time, you aren’t going to let him force you into the role of the temptress — you called, the sin is already committed. You just have to let him run with it.

Something rustles on the other end of the line, probably him shuffling around in bed. “Is that so?” he says, and you can practically hear his teasing grin.

“Hard not to, when it’s the only way I can get wet for him.” 

“Did you come?” he asks, and you snort. As fucking if. The reminder that Michael has never once made you come, never once asked how to make you feel good, assuages some of your guilt.

“Got bored about halfway through, started thrashing and wailing like a crazy person so he’d get it over with.” You roll your eyes and Matty cackles.

“You want me to come over? Get you there properly?” he asks, and it’s oh-so-tempting, but ultimately not worth the risk. Michael isn’t going to be gone that long, and getting caught would be… less than ideal.

You sigh, rolling onto your back. “Nah. Not a good idea, probably.”

He snorts. “Never stopped us before,” he says, his smirk practically audible.

“Do you wanna help me get off or not?” you snap, but there’s no heat in your words. A deep sigh slips from your lips and you brush your fingers down your body, resting your hand against your lower belly, desperately close to where you need it.

You hear a zipper slide down and stifle a laugh; you can picture him flawlessly, passed out in last night’s clothes, face pressed against the pillow, digging sleep-marks into his face. “Whatever you want, princess,” he murmurs. “How do you feel?”

“Needy,” you whine, pouting at your phone. “Wanna touch,” you add, desire pulsing thickly under your skin.

Matty’s answering chuckle is soft, indulgent. “Go on, angel. Do it just like you showed me.” You obey, heat flooding your body as images of that night swim in your vision, Matty’s gaze heavy on you as his cock disappears into his fist, his tongue skilled and sure between your thighs.

A whine slips from your lips as you rub slow circles into your clit, your phone thudding on your pillow as you pinch your nipple with your other hand. Matty groans, the slick sound of his hand working over his cock tinny over the speaker. “Fuck, want you so bad,” you breathe, heat smouldering between your legs. “Need you,” you choke out, hips grinding down against your hand.

“I’m there,” he answers. “I’m right there with you, princess. Tell me what you need.” His voice is low, weaved through with desire, his words punctuated with his familiar, soft moans.

You dip a finger inside yourself, the faint stretch heavenly between your thighs. “Need you to fuck me,” you gasp, eyes rolling back in your head as you imagine it; your fingers become his, rough and calloused and fucking into you exactly how you want. “Want your cock, Matty, wan’ it s’bad, please.” Your words come out slurred through the haze of pleasure enveloping you, Matty’s rhythmic groans dragging you higher.

“Begging so pretty for me,” he coos. “Miss that pretty cunt so bad, darling. Wanna get my mouth on you again, feel you cumming around my tongue. Miss your taste, princess.”

Thighs clenching, you whimper, the phantasm of his tongue delving between your thighs and lapping at you skilfully as you writhe under the tide of heat that rolls over you. “Want you to fuck me stupid,” you breathe. “Wanna forget everything except you,” you gasp, the admission falling unbidden from your lips, the truth in your words frantic and inescapable.

Matty chokes on a breath, groaning on the exhale. “Fuck, darling, you’re making it so hard not to come over there and fuck your lights out. Need to feel you coming on my cock so fucking bad.”

Reckless desire swirls through you, the protestations of your rational brain muted and fading against the flames licking their way up your body. You’re lost in it, the devil himself kissing at your thighs as you sin and sin and sin. “So come.”

His breathing hitches. “Are you being serious?” he asks, and you hear his hand still as he turns your words over in his mind.

“Yeah. Fuck it. Fuck all of them.” The words come easily, not weighted by some arbitrarily ascribed idea of morality; the truth you can’t delude yourself over any longer.

“God, angel,” he murmurs, voice trembling, thick with an emotion you couldn’t have named before today — one you have to bite back so it doesn’t spill from your lips at this inopportune moment. “So fucking perfect. You feeling good?”

“So good, Matty, fuck,” you say, fucking yourself on your fingers in a sweet, glorious rhythm. “Wish you were touching me,” you whine, hips rolling against your hand as Matty resumes his own motions. “Wanna suck your dick. Want you to make me choke on it.”

His answering moan is obscene, half your name and half a garbled noise of pure desire. “Such a good little slut for me. Want me to fuck your mouth, yeah?” You whine desperately. “God, you’d look so gorgeous like that, all pretty on your knees and drooling for me. Thought about that for so fucking long, princess.”

Your cunt clenches around your fingers, your head so hazy with bliss that you can barely force out the words, “Want you.”

Matty laughs fondly. “Then cum for me, darling. Cum for me and I’ll come over there and give you what you need, I promise,” he swears, voice gravelly through his moans.

“‘M close, ‘m so close, wanna cum for you, Matty, please, fuck,” you babble, incoherent and dazed as ecstasy pools in your belly, buzzing gorgeously through your limbs. The flimsy thread tying you to your sanity suddenly snaps, your stomach lurching as you’re plunged into bone-deep pleasure. A string of obscenities falls from your lips, twined around sticky moans and near-pained whines, your flesh melting off your bones, glueing you in place as euphoria rolls achingly over you.

Matty groans your name as he cums, the picture of him spilling into his fist vivid and rapturous behind your eyelids. You lay in silence for a few moments, letting the aftershocks subsite. “I meant it,” Matty says, cutting through the quiet with uncharacteristic seriousness.

“Me too,” you say instantly. There isn’t even the barest shadow of doubt in your mind. You hardly remember that Michael exists, let alone why you should care. “I want you, Matty. For real. I think…” you bite back the confession, too raw to give through your sketchy connection. “I think you should come over here and let me have you,” you breathe, low and teasing.

The grin in his voice is audible. “Don’t move, princess,” he orders. “Don’t even get dressed. I want you to keep playing with yourself, okay, darling? Keep yourself all pretty and wet for me, yeah?”

Your thighs clench, fire licking at you, stoked by his words. You’re ruined, have been since you set foot back in this town. Matty is the snake, his mouth the poisoned fruit, the temptation luring you into damnation. But as the flames kiss at your skin, you wonder if getting there might just be worth the price. “Yeah, okay,” you murmur, sucking in a sharp breath as your finger brushes over your sensitive clit, your hand coming up soaked with desire. “Hurry.”

“Darling, the devil himself couldn’t keep me away.”

You wonder if it’s a sign that the devil is wandering the plains of his thoughts too. But you’ve never been one for omens, so you let the quiet creep of bliss take over, the buzzing in your brain drowning out the beep of the dial tone. Anticipation creeps up your spine, slow and teasing.

Then, there’s a knock at your front door.

Shit.

[sscarletvenus]

they're like the powerpuff girls for really miserable bitches

[schattendumonde]

If they didn't want us to lionize him, why did the NYPD parade him around like Jesus Christ before nailing him to the cross?

[the-mad-prince-of-denmark]

Love, love is gonna lead you by the hand

Into a white and soundless place

Support me on Venmo @xandy-hurley or on PayPal @AlexandriaHurley

[lapsed-lys]

Everyone! I made a Discord server for trans Catholics! Everyone is welcome as long as they want to interact with trans people and Catholicism :D

@carry-on-wayward-catholic @cath-lic I know you two were looking for one!

[mountainsinaboat]

the chokehold this woman has on me right now is un-fucking-real.

[and-her-saints]

some of you were really badly catechized and ofc that's not your fault. and i'm not saying names. but some of you could really benefit from not being so wrong and soso loud about it. like. at all times.

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Thinking about step 9 and the whole concept of forgiveness of one’s self and others and it bringing healing and how bobby and Eddie have been paralleled a fair amount and the idea that Eddie started this process back at the end of s5 with his forgiveness and acceptance of his father but how he hasn’t yet gone anywhere near his mother and their relationship .

How his catholic guilt storyline seems more likely to play on his reltionship with his mother than his father (if his father wasn’t around that much it would’ve been Helena taking him to church etc each week) so the idea of an Eddie - Helena storyline that plays on catholic guilt and potentially his queerness in relation to that has me chewing on glass - it could be so epically good

[ave-immaculata]

fellas we're once again wrestling with imperfect vs. perfect contrition and why imperfect contrition with a firm resolution to not sin again and promptly receive the Sacrament of Reconciliation doesn't save

[fellhellion]

hi for the love of everything hello