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pianostarinwonderland · 1 month ago

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skully who r u [fae skully + a ramble on his possible background]

we have less than a day before we get the ending for this event and IM. NOT READY. im not ready to hear about how skully is a person from the past (and we're thinking 200 years or so), nor am i ready to go back to twst to hear that he's dead in our time and he's really the founder of modern halloween that nrc celebrates

... that's assuming he's human tho

and fortunately or unfortunately, there's hints that twst has been dropping that leads us to think otherwise

firstly: ears WHERE

in his live2D, you dont get to see his ears At All. not even a hint of an ear lobe. we know twst to be very detailed and deliberate with their designs so why did they choose to hide his ears

in his illustration, u can see a hint of an earlobe, but it's still very much covered

and as we know, when we look at malleus and lilia ears, we Know that they have pointy ears marking their pure fae ancestry. soooo skully..????? 🤨 fae skully real?????

i partly market the fae skully agenda bc PLS. WHAT IF... MEET . . .. .. IN OUR TIME. .. .. .. .... . PLS... . ... . .. . ..... 🥺 WE SEE HIM ALIVE BUT A LIL OLDER AND WAUGHHHHHHHHHHHHH pls i cant handle this yall

secondly: there is still that part in Episode 1-4 of skully saying to us "moshi... ne, moshi" instead of "moshimoshi", and a lot of ppl shared that the belief of supernatural beings not being able to address someone more than once is at play here. which would at least indicate to us that skully is at least not ur regular human being. and that is one thing about skully that we Can be sure about

on what skully may be, myonmyon put out a thread about how skully may be at least inspired by the Fear Gorta, a fae whose folklore was created from the irish famine. it's characterized by a skeletal appearance who wears tatters and rags. it can be benevolent or malevolent, but if u treat it kindly, it will bestow good blessings upon you. Fear Gorta also refers to Hungry Grass, which, if one steps on a cursed patch of grass (which i assume the fae created), they will always be hungry, no matter how much they eat, and will eventually die from starvation

ok why the irish famine? myonmyon and a few other theorists on twitter have speculated on skully possibly being inspired by (or maybe even being the twst equivalent of) the irish immigrants who moved to america, and from there, the tradition of halloween spread, resulting in the modern halloween that we know of today. it makes sense too given skully's character of spreading halloween to his fellow peers, who don't know what halloween is

oh but i don't mean to end this post here, no not yet. because there's a really interesting thread that i also found by Y_wwwsomething about how skully even got his viewpoint of halloween. i do like this thread because they kinda argue against skully's halloween being based on samhain, which a lot of people initially thought that that was his halloween. but samhain, even if it does have its scary side, is still a festival with feasting and noise, still very unlike skully's halloween. if anything, they suggested that the briar valley halloween is much closer to samhain.

my personal conclusion was that skully's halloween is based on all hallow's eve, and he's from a catholic family who celebrates halloween in a solemn manner. however, this thread is suggesting that skully idolizes the victorian british gentlemen and consequently the victorian halloween

let's look into the victorian halloween first. we note that the victorian halloween that was celebrated was often done by the upper class. several online sources will tell you that their halloween parties is, funnily enough, purposed for matchmaking. many halloween games involved girls looking into their futures, whether it's eating apples at midnight while looking at the mirror or looking at whatever object is in their apple or cake to see if they'll marry or die alone. halloween for them is less focused on fright and more on lover's passion.

however! their halloween parties are also dramatic in that they turn off the lights and only leave candles on, and when they greet guests, it's either by putting their own hand on the guest's shoulder or a glove filled with sawdust.

so we could have a situation here where skully, just like jack with christmas, may have observed one (1) party and misunderstood the victorian halloween, taking from it only the scary aspect and mixing it with any prior beliefs he may have had. it doesn't yet explain why he spent halloween alone, and tbh the catholic halloween celebration alone is already a near exact match of skully's definition of halloween, so im not very on board with this. could be that they are also loose enough to be festive? but im not sure

but im very interested about skully's possible reverence for the british gentlemen, which inspired his love for jack skellington! in the victorian era, they were defined by their birth (so if they were born to aristocratic parents), but men could also make themselves into gentlemen by growing their wealth and influence. some men have occupations that are respected enough to call them gentlemen (i.e. army members, members of the parliament). eventually the definition of a gentleman is one who received education from certain elite universities, but this is towards the end of the victorian era, so when trying to become a gentleman back then, it was much harder. so of course men tried to climb to become gentlemen. charles dickens actually wished to be recognized as a gentleman and so he wrote about it in great expectations.

and this is what interests me: during the irish famine, it's noted that british rule still stood on ireland, and if anything, the british elite even worsened the irish famine as they controlled trade between them. irish goods were exported out to britain and other countries while the people had nearly nothing, which either killed them off or pushed them to migrate. interestingly, british penal laws had it that irish catholics especially were suppressed—among their laws included that their land and home were confiscated by the british parliamentary officials in ireland

so what am i trying to get at here? it's that there's probably a nonzero chance that skully looked up to the gentlemen of britain... or if we're thinking in twst terms, the gentlemen of the queendom of roses. and this may be influenced by whatever was going on in his hometown, whether it's something akin to the irish famine and colonization or something else. a desire to be free? a desire to be more than what he is right now? it would very much be similar to sally and jack: sally, in how she wanted to be free from dr. finkelstein's controlling parenting, and jack in how he wanted to not just be the pumpkin king and tried to take over christmas. it also sort of mirrors leona's and jamil's desires for themselves too, how they want to be free to do the things they want to do and make an impact around them

what's even yummier is considering that if skully is a fae, or at least a nonhuman creature that has a distinctive ear shape, then he might take shame in his fae nature as he may perceive that the ideal gentleman is a human, which is similar to how sebek takes shame in his human nature. hence, his ears would be covered by his hair in order to hide this and mingle among the gentlemen.

anyway. idk how i went from "skully is a fae" to "skully is probably an irish catholic suppressed by the british colonial rule and wants to social climb hence he looks up to the ideal british gentleman, sees jack skellington in that image, and aims to be like that so that he can make something out of himself" but we ball ig

anyway, im cooked for tomorrow, im not ready yall :(

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst jp #skully j graves #twst theory #im cooking yall I SWEAR #I SPENT 4 HOURS RESEARCHING ABOUT THE HISTORY OF IRISH FAMINE AND BRITISH RULE AND VICTORIAN HALLOWEEN #NOW I AM AWARE OF CHARLES DICKENS' GREAT EXPECTATIONS AND WHY HE WROTE IT #IM SUPPOSED TO BE RESEARCHING OTHER THINGS NOT VICTORIAN GENTRY #anyway WHY DID I PUT EFFORT INTO THIS THE BACKSTORY'S PROBS GONNA BE LIKE “my parents were too controlling boohoo :((”#im normal guys i swear im normal about skully #(me when i lie)

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barblaz-arts · 9 months ago

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HELLOOO!! Im in LOVE with all your Chaggie (and Wenclair obv-) art!! I was wondering if youd be up to share your thoughts on the other hazbin characters? Simply cuz Im very curious and youve been a favourite content creator of mine for a while whose opinions and takes on different things i value A LOT! So id love to hear your thoughts on the rest of the main cast(and more if youre up to it hahha)!

@phantoswordsman15

The main cast huh

Hmmmmm I dont particularly hate them, but I have some opinions that people might not like and I'm aware there's a lot of uh sensitive people in this fandom, so I never said them unprompted

But since you asked!

Alastor

Let's start with the infamous Alastor. I think he's a very entertaining character! His horde of simps annoy tf outta me when they're being misogynistic and homophobic towards Chaggie and Vaggie, but I quite liked him when I make myself forget certain parts of the fandom. He's funny and conniving and intriguing. The fact that he apparently sold his soul is super interesting to me. I'm on board with the people theorizing that he sold his soul to Lilith. I bet he's cozying up with Charlie so that he can use it to break his contract somehow. Feel like he also used the deal with (presumably) Lilith so that he could be strong enough to be the overlord he became.

With that being said, I'm really surprised with the direction they took with him. You'd think that with him being a favorite of the showrunner and the fandom, he would probably be portrayed as the coolest mf in hell. But I really like that it isn't really the case within the show. Certain denizens dont even know him and older overlords like Zestial seems to scare him and Carmilla just dgaf about him. Hell, Alastor's loss to Adam was a lil embarrassing ngl. Like. I know he's one of the oldest human souls and that's why he's powerful but... It's Adam.

Something about him that I noticed is that he seems to be more bark than bite. In particular in his duet with Lucifer, initially Lucifer had the upper hand because he's objectively more powerful, humiliating Alastor with his angel magic, but what Alastor used to his advantage was his words and charisma, as can be expected of a radio host. He's always taunting his enemies, but does it actually make him stronger than them? He "won" that duet with Vox but Valentino said Alastor only"almost beat" him when they had an actual fight. He ruffled Lucifer's feathers but at the end of the day Lucifer is still leagues more powerful than him. He talked big when he was fighting Adam but he almost died and had a breakdown over it.

He's really a lot less "cool" than I expected the show would have him be portrayed as. Kinda pathetic honestly, how he's so insecure and angry whenever he isn't the strongest guy in the room. And i actually really like that! He reminds me a lot of Rumplestilstkin from Once Upon a Time.

Something I kinda hesitate to say tho is... I dont want him redeemed. I dont want him to actually care about the hotel crew and change his ways. I like him as the fucked up man he is and really want to see how fucked up he can be, just so that if he ends up being the huge antagonist, his downfall would be all the more satisfying. Like yunno that moment when Light/Kira was finally defeated? I wanna feel that again.

Angel Dust

I love him! We found his dialogue a lil annoying at first in ep 1 but the writers did a lot better in ep 2. He's a neat guy. His character gives interesting implications for me as to what makes a person a sinner in this show. While you have people like Alastor who obviously ended up where they did because a cannibal murderer, I get the feeling Angel ended up in hell because he was abusing his own body, which is a sad thing to think. If I remember right from my own catholic upbringing, abusing the body is considered a sin because your body is a temple. To think that Angel could be in hell for poisoning himself, not for harming others, is just sad man. I look forward to seeing more of his journey.

I'm not touching on how his SA was tackled btw. While I'm a victim of sexual assault myself, what i experienced was far from what Angel does on a REGULAR basis,so I don't feel like i have any personal or professional right to say anything about it. Not every victim's case is universal anyways. All I can say is, his line about purposefully damaging himself so he could be broken enough to no longer be Valentino's "favorite toy" hit me harder than I ever expected this show to.

Husk

Confession: I... I dont feel all that attached to Husk at all, I am so sorry Husk stans 😭

Okok that feels so mean to say I'm so sorry. I actually hesitated to say anything because I dont want to hurt people's feelings. But since you guys are asking and I dont like not being genuine, I'm telling the truth.

A lot of my feelings about Husk is heavily affected by the fandom anyways to be perfectly fair. Why? Because a lot of criticisms against Vaggie is easily applicable to Husk, maybe even more so, and yet I dont see even the same level of hate towards him that Vaggie received because his chemistry with Angel is so much better than Chaggie... Apparently...

I just dont see Husk as a character outside of being a plot device for Angel's development yunno? I get it, he isn't a main character like the main 4 are(Charlie, Vaggie, Alastor, and Angel), i just find it hard to well and truly like him because of the fandom's double standards. When we found out someone was gonna die in the finale, my brother and I actually thought it was gonna be him because he doesn't have a big enough role to play in the plot to be a HUGE loss, but has a significant enough connection to a main character to have an EFFECT. He very much just felt like the love interest for Angel and nothing else. Which isnt necessarily a bad thing, but is frustrating when i see sooo many people label Vaggie as such(when she isnt!) and hate her SO MUCH for it.

I wanna see more of him tho I really do. Like the man used to be an overlord. He said he wanted to find someone who could relate to "the gruesome ways in which he's damaged" but what does that even mean? Yes i know about the castration but aside from that what suffering is Alastor putting him thru when all he has to do is be a bartender rn? There must be more and I wanna see it and finally feel for him.

Nifty

I love her a lot. That's it. The character ever. Her gremlin energy reminded me so much of Peridot, it's great. Kimiko Glenn did a fantastic job as the comic relief character and I hope she gets her own song next season. Her basically being everyone's little sister was kinda adorable even tho she's probably the scariest person in that hotel next to Alastor. I hope she gets to stab Valentino next. Just kill that MOTHerfucker

#asks #hazbin hotel

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clairyclue · 5 months ago

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my thoughts on Majestic Rep’s RTC

it’s a lot sorry guys

tags: @jencattv @ray-winters @keatondj

(spoilers below the cut)

you can tell when ocean starts questioning her attitude and how conflicted she is, especially right after WTWN

jane gets startled so easily poor baby

noel’s riffs are amazing!! (noel’s lament)

the choreo is awesome too!

mischa is a such a sweetie he genuinely cares so much about the other choir members

mischa flipping ocean off before “i love you guys” haha

constance’s finger guns after “fornication”

constance laughing at ocean out down jokes and then switching up is so funny

i love oceans line delivery she’s like three seconds snapping i love it

jane going from being able to move

fluidly during the songs to being stiff again she looks so confused every time

ricky. just ricky ❤️

connie i thought the crystal meth joke was funny

^^ i love all the dialogue in that scene i don’t remember it in original cast slime tuts

fuck mischa’s adopted parents fr you can tell his anger is a defense mechanism because when he feels comfortable with the choir he’s so sweet!!

MISCHA FALTERING WHEN SAYING HES TALIAS FIANCÉ

“THANK YOU FOR KILLING MY MOTHER AND INDIRECTLY KILLING ME” 💔💔💔

MY LIFE IS AWESOME

(i’m gonna start categorizing by song now i don’t have much for WTWN and Noel’s Lament so)

jane dope 🔥🔥

mlia gives mad sibling karaoke vibes

karna i see u bopping along

the singing too is immaculate

OK JANE i see u dropping it down

TALIA

this mischa genuinely seems so into it he deserves so much credit in way of character work

the way he gets all bashful during his Talia monologue 💓

background harmonies (constance is carrying and also i can hear her so well!!)

again riffs!! well done

the choreo goes crazy!! this applies to all the songs tho

the arms making a steeple 🥺😩

THE ENDING RIFFS 💔💔💔😩😩😩😭😭🥺🥺😞😞

the projection i’m gonna end it all 💔

MISCHA FUCKING CRYING INTO NOELS SHOULDER HELPHELPHELP and even once the dialogue moves on he’s still clinging to him and Noel rubs his back

“ocean why aren’t you talking right now it’s weird” (ricky in the bg: ☝️)

i love u connie awkwardness

jane is so reactive to everything she hears like a little puppy

“OKAY!! 😁😁😁😁” (autismo lore dump time)

oceans face when he’s explaining it 😀 to 🙁 to 😟

AND THEN SHE FUCKING MOANS U CATHOLIC FREAK (no offense to catholics reading this)

noel’s face me too bud

ricky’s lore is kinda gross just because it wasn’t always this way. but sigh what can you do

SPACE AGE BACHELOR MAN:

ricky my little freak boy ❤️

spacedolls realness coming through

“sure…😬”

rip ricky u would have loved therian tiktok

little curtain face thing “it gets weird now :)” (•.•)

“THAT SON OF A BITCH !! 😡😡😡”

the emotion behind his lines the whole time tbh adds to the comedy (“i thought i told them !! 😕😕”)

the ending “b-b-b- bachelor man!” (“meow!!”)

we love u mischa hype man (again sweetest man alive)

constance’s “oh man!” was so agressive i loved it the one in the soundtrack seems so sad. this constance is less shy more awkward and i love it

THE BALLAD OF JANE DOE:

i know i know. but choreo.

vocals!! ily jenna

bg vocals as well!!

the mixing 🥹

OK THE OPT UP????

the choreo at “a choir never complete” reminds me of the opening funeral scene from beetlejuice. definitely fits the vibe!

the borderline growl/anger in “and i’m asking why lord” yes!!!!

she sounds so desperate. crying.

“does no one care?!” again the anger and emotion!

THE BG VOCALS AT THAT ONE PART SO GOOD THEYRE ANGRY FOR HER IT SEEMS

the roller coaster. them being sucked back into it choreo wise. reverse looking.

THE HIGH NOTES 💋💋💋

ocean being the one to put the birthday costume on means a lot to me. idk

ocean comforting her too 🥰🥰

janes birthday claps!

SNATCH !! 🧁🧁

ocean doing connie’s hair ❤️

savannah scene!!

we don’t get to see it but i know the waltz is happening

“ur ma best frand 💓“

^ and then ocean immediately snaps my heart again.

“no you don’t ocean. 😕”

i understand oceans monologue she just. executed it badly.

constance 😝 beat her ass girl

“or they’ll call you a cow” baby. come here. 💔

constance. i get you. i get u connie baby.

JAWBREAKER/SUGAR CLOUD:

oceans face ❤️ i don’t know how to describe it but she looks. proud. and her sitting almost re-evaluating everything in the back. (assuming)

ricky giving her the mic ❤️

HER GIGGLE

them scooting her around aghhhahahdhdbdheh

cloud props!

CONFETTI AND BALLOONS AND IM SMILING LIKE A FOOL

jane looks so happy with her ballon skipping around 🥹

the ending!! ILY CONSTANCE

mischa helping her down awww

ocean and connie hug!!

can’t forget the nischa hug

ocean losing her voice inflection and sounding so genuine. so scared. so raw.

janey when she gets chosen 🥹🥹

ocean and connie hug 2

JANE REACHING FOR RICKY SNDBDJWKDJDKF

ITS NOT A GAME/ITS JUST A RIDE

crying over the ending brb

the slideshow will always get me

something about the whole scene. houfhhhhhhh

“and you give and choose while you live and lose” and the lines preceding it get me 🥹

ARE THOSE REAL VIDEOS OF JENNA?!?!?!

KARNA SOUNDING LIKE THEYRE GONNA CRY

the first lines of it’s just a ride. no music. so raw sounding 🥹 the teary voices. the haphazard harmonies.

ocean and mischa holding each other. big bro little sis 💓

“WOO!”

THEIR FREESTYLE DANCING!

they’re having so much fun. they’re dead but they’re LIVING for the first time.

all of the hand holding. my babes.

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solargeist · 5 months ago

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an angel doesn't necessarily have to be religious. typically yeah they are, but we're talking fantasy. you could make angels some sort of rare hybridization between different bird like hybrids.

though, if you WANTED to keep with the Catholic/religious theme. there was stuff written about humans and angels (or demons) having offspring. it would in the angels case result in them falling, BUT their offspring would have exaggerated features or even powers.

an angel here could be what happens if you spliced watcher/listener DNA with some other species. in skizz's case it could just be human, but you could probably make cool cases for others.

Yesss you are right, there is a story abt angels breeding with humans and creating giants, angels also taught magic and astrology to humans. (i think this is also what led to the whole flooding thing, which, boooo, let angels be freaky 2024)

I take some inspiration from Catholicism, but don't follow it exactly for Watchers. The Watchers are just that world's version of Catholicism, the people made a religion out of them, how they appear at times to guide and protect, sometimes taking people, and they're always been around. Grian grew up around Watcher religion as a child, he's got catholic guilt as an adult. (his Watcher mum--Aether, also grew up around Watcher religion)

Tho the difference--they don't have a Jesus-like figure, its just tiers of angels, the universe, that sort of thing, but who knows, maybe theres different Watcher branches amongst people as well, there are enchantment dialect differences.

Maybe Skizz just comes from a line of different enchantments, not Watcher based, but it's why he looks like that without being a hybrid. (the protestant joke rly does work here, they don't believe/pray to saints or angels or other figures beyond the main guy LOlol)

Listeners are fallen Watchers, treated much like demons, in the sense that they have to be stomped out, they'll lead humans astray.

Another difference, Watchers are infertile, so they do not breed with themselves or others, they just adopt and use enchantments to change the person, its how they continue, an endless source of Saints.

I do treat it more fantasy style, not super bible-accurate, but the lore inspiration is still heavily tied into it

Their domaines are much like convents, strict and confined.

I call them angels, but.... Watchers are "angels" in the way that they watch people, they bring information and guidance, they're skilled warriors who possess magic, but they don't serve a "God" or "Heaven", this is all of their own interest. (and also humans are cute, they can't help but interact.) Appearance wise they resemble birds, crows and owls, growing feathers and fur, claws and wings, multiple eyes on their face and "spiritually" (the floating eyes they conjure) They dress in flowing fabrics and hoods, they're very modest, but this is just most comfortable for all the feathers and wings, and allows them to blend into the dark and hide their forms. Nothing to do with the purity idea.

Bonus, they're like this meme but both at the same time

#DO I MAKE SENSE i dont know. i was trying to point out the difference between accurate angels vs watchers but they are similar #ask #ive had this meme saved for so long ADJGAJ #if i watched more of skizz's content maybe i could pull something for angel stuff but i mostly listen to the podcast/other games

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doueverwonder · 1 month ago

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the main cast is so funny to me tho, like California, Texas, Florida, New York, Illinois will always be there in my heart but we're talking about canon rn. Like, they all make sense.

then u got Loui, I love Louisiana dearly; but like, man what are you doing here? He doesn't have a huge population, we know this man don't got no money, he's not even a swing state. why is he here, to keep Florida occupied? diversity hire (what diversity u ask, uhh french, catholic,,, alcoholics maybe)??? is he just bored and here for drama and Gov hasn't kicked him out yet???? Loui do u not have something better to do with your time????????

#wttt louisiana #repeat I LOVE Loui he's got 90% of my favorite lines I just think his presence as a main character is funny compared to the other 4 #wttt #welcome to the table

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evilsniigura · 1 month ago

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Yandere Bully Adam x Trans fem reader x Yandere Bestfriend Eve

Cw: Transphobia but adam doesn’t actually mean it

this asks did something to me. i literally ascended reading that. idk why but your brain anon!!! please. share more ideas with me. i have a special place in my heart for trans fem reader sisnskdksk

YANDERE BULLY ADAM the love of my life and the man i hate the most. all in one!!!! he’s so annoying and makes these awful comments, which he doesn’t even mean. he’s so far up in denial. adam is all like „i’d MAYBE hit it if you were a real girl but nothing would change that ugly face“ and then he goes home, pulls up his burner accounts and goes stalk readers pictures online to jack off. we all know reader got him blocked 😭😭

YANDERE BEST FRIEND EVE!!!!!! i didn’t even think of the possibility somebody arrest me. UCHHHHH i know she’s a bit paranoid. in my mind eve and adam are broken up because of eves cheating. and she loves reader she really does!! loves experimenting with make up and clothes and hyping up her best friend!!

and well. in my mind, since they all go to a catholic private college reader goes not really through bullying but there are rumours and stuff going around. it’s hard for her to make friends :( it’s okay tho, because eve is there!! lucifer and lilith are also great ally’s!!! but eve doesn’t like having reader around them lmaoo

eve teaching reader all about girlhood. like. how best friends totally make out on the regular. and how reader should totally send her nudes for her to rate. is genuinely sad when reader declines like :((((((( she just want to be there!!

idk i imagine adam losing his mind. like why does reader like eve so much?? he’s much cooler, much better, way more loyal?? at the same time he’s the guy who trips reader in the hallway, continuously flips readers skirt up to look under it (genuinely surprised when reader stops wearing skirts and dresses. has the audacity to miss the outfits), follows reader around to mock her 😭 he at least punched someone else for insulting reader. but reader didn’t see it happening. loss for adam

in my mind reader and eve are in the locker room. reader usually changes somewhere else (toilets) and is waiting rn for eve to finish up who is taking extra long 😭 keeps dancing around reader in her underwear while giggling eienekek

adam wants to be in the changing room because lute forgot something in there. sees reader and eve. his first instinct is of course to peep. disappointed reader isn’t in underwear 😔

nearly has a heart attack when he sees eve kiss reader. happy to see reader turns her face so eves lips crash into her cheek instead of the lips. but eve can easily hug you and press her plush body against your own while you always scatter away from adam

eve is observant and spots adam. because she already has a suspicion that he’s emotional constipated as always when it comes to reader she just ramps up the affection she usually showers reader in. eves lips are on your neck while you’re giggling about how it tickles while she tries to slide her hands up your shirt and you keep pushing her hands away with a laugh. totally just gals being pals

i always like imagine eve and adam inbetween readers legs fighting over who can put their mouths first on reader. reader just uncomfortable because well eve actually liking reader was excepted but adam?!?!? having adam groan out a „such a pretty girl“ BSIAJAJSKSJ

adam and eve have to share and somewhat get along. if they keep fighting all the time they lose focus on what’s important (reader). they’re hissing at each other and then reader is talking to new people and they’re like. actually lets form an alliance 🫱🏽‍🫲🏿 because adam and eve is all you need! eve can even get adam to apologise to you!! he will be much much nicer trust her

they’re both so horribly obsessive and possessive i need them BADD

#cw yandere #ask #adam.thoughts #eve.thoughts

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ihavemanyhusbands · 1 year ago

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The Wine of Your Blood

Also on AO3

A/N: As usual, thank you to G <3

Pairing: Father Paul/Monsignor Pruitt x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Father Paul's transformation, he is tormented by a hunger only you can quell.

WC: 5.1k words

Warnings: 18+ ONLY!, vampirism, blood drinking, religious imagery and symbolism (I'm not a religious expert tho I grew up catholic, sorry if I used wrong terms), canon divergence, hierophilia, corruption, graphic depictions of sex and some violence, unprotected sex (do not try at home), cunnilingus, ummm let me know if I missed anything pls!!

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

The silhouette was there again, shrouded in a thick fog that rolled in from the tempestuous sea. It was tall and statuesque, like the guard of some mythical place – monstrous and terrible. Golden light blazed behind it, flickering like an ardent flame. Or like a beacon, slicing through the night’s darkness and calling you home.

You could not see its eyes, and yet you could feel the prickle of an assessing gaze. The siren-like lure was undeniable, and for a moment you could understand why sailors jumped into the sea with total abandon.

But you were not afraid. You’d seen this apparition for various nights now, like an omen, even if you didn’t really believe in that sort of thing.

The real questions were: What was it presaging?

And why, especially, did it feel so inevitable?

————-

You awoke, as you often did in the late fall, to a gentle rain. As the day progressed, you knew it would grow in intensity, but for now, there was peace and quiet.

You stared at the drops trailing down your window like glistening tears of melancholy. The milky white early morning sky was the same as it ever was, casting a thin, watery light on everything.

When you finally pulled yourself out of bed, you peeked into your grandmother’s room to find her still out, snoring softly. Her breaths no longer sounded like wet, raspy gurgles, which made you sag with abundant relief.

Sarah had diagnosed her with a mild case of pneumonia the previous week, but even so you knew things could turn for the worse on a whim. Your grandmother was nearing ninety, and while she had always been a sturdy woman, her body could only take so much now.

For a minute, you were seriously starting to consider getting in touch with the new priest, Father Paul, once again to talk last rites. For your grandmother’s sake, you wished Monsignor Pruitt could have performed them, but he was still recovering in the mainland.

But that all would be a problem for another day, given that she was doing much better.

Still, she had adamantly refused to miss mass, and while she wasn’t strong enough to leave the house, Father Paul had been gracious enough to swing by for a house visit on Sunday.

He seemed like a fine man, soft-spoken, amiable, and welcoming. Not to mention, he had quite a charming way about him, especially when he laughed. Perhaps you shouldn’t be taking notice of that, but you couldn’t help it, despite how conflicted you felt in his presence.

There was something vaguely familiar in his dark eyes you couldn’t place — something that seemed far older, perhaps wiser, but definitely weathered. At times, prolonged eye contact with him seemed daunting, but you attributed it to your general wariness of strangers.

He hadn’t been at Crockett for very long, but you appreciated the effort he seemed to be making with everyone on the island, but especially with your grandmother. There had to be some way you could repay his kindness… perhaps in the form of a homemade treat.

You padded over to the kitchen to make some coffee, rummaging through the cupboards to see if you had all the ingredients to make some banana bread.

You spent the rest of the morning cooking, your grandmother’s small house warm and permeated with the sweet, enticing smell of baking bread. You got ready after that, making sure your grandmother ate some breakfast and took her medicine before you headed out.

Gravel crunched under your rain boots as you trudged over to the Monsignor’s house, where Father Paul was currently residing. You nodded in greeting at passerby, stopping only to spare a few words with Leeza Scarborough, who was on her front porch reading.

When you arrived at the house, the curtains were drawn and there seemed to be no lights on inside. You frowned in slight confusion, given that it was past noon. Perhaps he was out and about, but with so few residents on the island, you surely would have seen him.

You stepped up onto his porch, hesitating for a moment before knocking on the door.

“Father Paul?” You called tentatively.

No answer. You tried knocking again, waiting for another few minutes.

When you were about to give up, you kneeled to set down the tupperware, and the door suddenly opened to reveal Beverly. Her eyes widened slightly upon seeing you there and you quickly straightened.

“Oh, Beverly,” you said as a form of greeting. “Sorry, just wanted to drop something off for Father Paul. As a thank you.”

She cleared her throat, hands clasping in front of her. “I’m afraid Father Paul has fallen ill and is currently indisposed for visitors…”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you said sympathetically, further confused by the slight worry you felt at the news. “I can just give this to you, then. I’ll talk to him when he’s better.”

“How nice of you to do this,” Beverly smiled tightly, eyebrows raising just a little. “I’m sure he’ll really appreciate it, though I’m not sure if his stomach will be able to take it right now… Oh, I just hope it doesn’t go bad.”

You gave her a wry, uncomfortable smile in return. “It’s the thought that counts, right? Erm… I’m just glad he’s got someone to take care of him.”

“He’s in good hands, I assure you,” she nodded. “Mine, and the Lord’s, of course.”

You nodded in return, starting to back away slowly. “Right. Well, can you tell him my grandmother sends her regards?”

“Of course, I will let him know. Good day now.”

And with that, she shut the front door. You shook your head and let out a sigh, glancing only once back at the house as you walked away.

—————

For once, the night was clear. The stars and the waxing moon were visible, keeping you company as you stepped off your porch. The air was fresh and crisp, smelling faintly of petrichor.

You stretched a little as you looked up at the sky, thanking whoever was up there for letting the rain cease for the time being. It seemed like forever since you’d last been able to go out for a nighttime jog, no one around to talk to or look presentable for. It was the perfect time to clear your mind, now that a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

You started down the gravel road, the wind whistling in your ears. Your legs kept a steady rhythm, the old houses of all your neighbors whizzing past your field of vision. You passed by the school and the convenience store, winding away from the main town area towards the harbor.

The moon’s reflection made the black waves glitter, endless, ominous, and hauntingly beautiful. You stopped for a moment near the pier, looking beyond the water at all the distant lights of the mainland. So close, and yet so far.

Sure, you yearned for all the mainland had to offer – an entire world that wasn’t just bite-sized, predictable, safe. But you could not yield to those selfish fantasies, not while someone who gave you so much throughout your life now required your help. You closed your eyes and breathed in the salty breeze.

Perhaps someday…

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?”

The familiar voice made you almost jump out of your skin. You whirled around to find Father Paul a few feet behind you, raising his hands to show he meant no harm. Maybe you’d been so distracted that you hadn’t heard him approach, but it still felt eerie.

“Oh, I’ve startled you, I’m so sorry,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

You placed a hand on your chest as if to placate your racing heart. “It’s okay, Father. I just wasn’t really expecting to see anyone, is all.”

“Especially not the priest, right?” he raised an eyebrow, which made you huff in amusement.

“Guess I just thought you didn’t come out at night.”

He smiled lopsidedly, looking down and clearing his throat slightly. “You know, I think I’m becoming more partial to nighttime. I guess you could say I’m an insomniac.”

“All that weight on your conscience?” You said as he approached, standing next to you.

“Something like that,” he sighed, now looking off into the distance. “Thank you for the bread. It was delicious.”

You shrugged it off modestly. “Grandma’s recipe. I’m just glad she’s right as rain again. Maybe… Your prayers helped. It’s what she insists on, anyway.”

He shook his head, a loose dark curl brushing his forehead. “That’s much too kind of her.”

You assessed his profile for a moment. “How are you feeling, Father? You were out for a few days, too.”

“I definitely needed some fresh air. Now, I’m much better,” he said with a smile, meeting your gaze. “I could not stay cooped in that house any longer. I’m really looking forward to our next mass.”

You said nothing, unsure of how to respond. Despite the fact that you’d grown up religious, you weren’t really practicing anymore. Sometimes you’d accompany your grandmother to sermons, but you often tried to find excuses to skip them.

So far, you had only been to one of Father Paul’s, and you had to admit there was something rapturous about his speeches. They were not only engaging, but the passion behind them was sort of infectious. You even caught yourself leaning forward in your seat, which you quickly corrected.

It only added to the confusion of how you felt about this man, but such a mystery was undeniably alluring.

“Will you be joining us?” He asked. “No pressure if not, but it’d be nice to see you there.”

“Ah, is that what this is? You’re trying to convert me or something?”

“You’re very clever,” he observed, his grin broadening. “But no, that's not all it is. Part of it, sure, but I don’t want you to miss out on something really special.”

You couldn’t help the slight blush that spread across your cheeks, your heartbeat suddenly spiking once again. His easy, confident smile faltered for a moment, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. The bestial hunger that had been tormenting him for days, rendering him weak and sickly, flared inside of him.

“T-think on it, but like I said, no pressure on my part,” he added quickly, gasping a little as if he lacked air.

You nodded, failing to notice how he slowly clenched and unclenched his fists. His muscles were taut with self-restraint, rooting him to the spot. Luckily, you moved first, taking a step back.

“Alright, thank you for the invite. Um…I should probably finish my jog and head back home,” you said, gesturing behind you. “Don’t get in too late, Father. You don’t want to catch another cold.”

————

Despite the fact that he was a passionate speaker, you had never seen Father Paul so worked up.

He started by speaking about eternity and how hard it was to visualize it. The fire inside him was stoked as he spoke of God’s gifts, his miracles and his mysteries. How they were something tangible, something within reach of every grasping hand… even if one couldn’t understand them.

Then the fire turned into a feverish glint in his eyes, his skin paling considerably. He stumbled over his words, pausing to keep nausea at bay. Sweat broke out across his forehead, and he dabbed at it with a handkerchief.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, clearing his throat. “Just a little dizzy spell, but I’m fine now.”

Still, he braced his hand on the pulpit. You noticed Beverly was also leaning forward in her seat, ready to spring to action if need be. That was all the confirmation you needed that something was wrong.

But for a moment, as he continued talking, things seemed to settle. You relaxed in your seat, folding your hands on your lap.

“No abstracts. No colorful exaggerations. No. ‘Rebirth’, ‘Second chances’, ‘E-eternal li…’”

His eyes rolled to the back of his skull as his words faded into a shuddery exhale. He collapsed onto the floor, thudding heavily down the steps as the panicked voices of the congregation rose in volume.

Beverly reached him first, of course, but you knelt at his side only moments after. You hadn’t even registered you were running until you got there, cradling his head in your hands.

And even if he was unconscious, you could’ve sworn he leaned closer to your touch.

—---------

It was an audacious plan, you knew that well enough. Still, that clarity didn’t stop you from attempting to go through with it.

As soon as Sarah Gunning arrived to attend to Father Paul, Beverly had kicked everyone out, holding firm even as you insisted you wanted to stay. Her stubborn will was infuriating, but perhaps also commendable, in a way. You had to bite back a few bitter words as you left, but that didn’t mean you intended to stay away.

You waited for her to leave Father Paul’s house, which didn’t happen until after the sun had set. Even when you couldn’t hear her receding footsteps any longer, you waited a few more minutes before approaching the front door.

You raised your fist to knock, but the door suddenly opened to reveal a haggard-looking Father Paul. There were dark crescents hanging from his eyes and his skin was so pale it was almost translucent.

For his sake, you held back from gasping, but he could still see worry written across your features.

“It’s like you knew I was coming,” you said with a small smile.

“Keen senses,” he said softly. “Would you like to come in?”

You hesitated, despite the fact that a ‘yes’ was on the tip of your tongue. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. Gave us a real scare earlier.”

He swallowed hard, closing his eyes for a moment as if staving off an ache deep within him. In the dim light, you noticed the corners of his lips were a dark red. For a moment you wondered if he’d been drinking the sacramental wine.

“It may not seem like it but… better,” he said, mustering a small smile. “I fear I-I may owe you an explanation.”

“Oh, Father Paul, you don’t…”

“Please, I insist. I can make us some tea, if you’d like,” his voice dropped into the faintest whisper. “Just, stay. Please.”

The desperation in his voice gave you pause. You searched his face for the answer to a question you didn’t dare ask, and perhaps you deluded yourself into believing you found it.

You nodded, crossing the threshold and taking off your shoes. You heard him shuffle about in the kitchen, and you wrung your hands nervously as you glanced around the small, austere rectory.

This was wholly improper, you knew, but you felt a magnetic sort of pull towards him that was getting harder to resist. It was easy to deny it at first, brushing it off as curiosity and excitement over having a newcomer on the island.

Most were wary, but you… you wondered if he could be your link to the rest of the world. Your appetite for that dream was only whetted, closer to your fingertips than ever.

“Water’s boiling,” he said as he came into the living room. “Sit, please, make yourself comfortable.”

Obediently, you did as told. There was a palpable tension in the atmosphere that made your skin prickle. He sat across from you, gripping the armrests of the chair as he adjusted himself, unable to find a comfortable position.

“I have to insist that you owe me no explanation, Father. I just worry about your… condition,” you said.

“It’s no ordinary ailment. I think you’ve sensed that already, haven’t you?”

You nodded, unsure of where he was going with this, but willing to listen.

He continued. “You have witnessed miracles here on the island. Things that you can’t explain and yet are so clear to your eyes. Were you listening to my homily earlier?”

“Yes, Father,” you said, even if you’d only been half-listening.

But he was speaking the truth, if Leeza Scarborough was any indication. She had risen from her wheelchair just a few days prior, no longer in need of it. Since then, you’d seen other changes around Crockett, some of them more subtle than others.

You clasped your hands on your lap to keep from moving them. “You mean to say you’ve brought about these miracles?”

He smiled patiently, indulgently. In this light, his eyes seemed darker than you’d ever seen, like two chasms you could get lost in.

“No, not me. God. I am merely a vessel for His glory, and all of the gifts He wishes to impart on us,” he said, leaning forward slightly and resting his forearms on his knees. “On you in particular.”

“Me?” You blinked, genuinely surprised. “What sort of gift?”

“The gift of life anew. Rebirth. A holy transfiguration, if you will.”

His gaze was fixed on the way your throat worked as you swallowed hard, on edge despite your curiosity being piqued.

“You see, I was visited by an angel. Larger than life, with a greater wingspan than even an albatross. It was utterly magnificent… as well as horrifying. I was afraid at first, of course, for we all fear things that are unknown to us. I was on the brink of death regardless, but see me now, restored, in my prime!”

You frowned, a myriad of questions on the tip of your tongue, but then Father Paul doubled over, clutching his stomach. His dark brows were furrowed from the influx of pain and you instinctively rose to help, but he lifted a hand to stop you.

“But to be reborn, the old self must be destroyed, and thus… and thus it is not an easy road to walk,” he rasped.

You knelt beside him, concerned and abundantly confused all at once. “What do you need? How can I help you ease this pain?”

He looked at you from the corner of his eye, pleading, desperate. Like a wounded animal, almost. You wondered if he, too, might bare his teeth in warning.

“There is this hunger inside of me that I cannot seem to dispel. I-I fear it threatens to consume me,” he swallowed hard, straightening into a sitting position once more. “God asks terrible things of us sometimes, but I cannot help but think this is a test of my strength. My will.”

“I want to help,” you said softly, so softly, daintily placing a hand on his knee.

But his ears were keen, as he’d said, and he heard you perfectly fine. Still, his eyes – glazed over in pain and hunger and desire – searched yours for any sign of doubt. Instead, he found resolve, as well as a very clear distress at seeing him suffer so much.

Oh, pious, gentle little lamb. What a good heart you had. The idea that your blood might taste just as sweet made his head spin, his beastly hunger lashing out inside of him.

His hands cradled your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone ever so slightly. You found yourself leaning into his touch, too entranced by him to think objectively about the morality of the whole thing. The charge in the atmosphere changed into something more taut, all too close to snapping.

“You do not know what you are offering,” he said, holding fast to his self-restraint even as his mouth watered.

“Maybe you could show me, then.”

A slight chuckle escaped his lips at your eagerness, one of his hands leaving your face to pat his thigh. “Come, would you like to sit here? Perhaps I shall whisper it in your ear.”

You started to lift yourself, but then hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Sure as I’ll ever be of anything, my dear,” he assured, his smile momentarily taking on a certain edge, like that of a wolf’s.

You situated yourself on his legs gingerly, closer to his knees, but he brazenly grabbed you by the hips and pulled you closer. You gasped, a tingle forming between your shoulder blades and slowly crawling down your spine.

“You’re so warm,” he murmured, closing his eyes as he relished the feeling, his arms circling your waist to keep you from squirming. “I hope you didn’t catch a fever from me.”

“I-I didn’t realize this was the sort of hunger you were referring to, Father,” you said tremulously, more heat sparking in your lower abdomen.

He traced his nose against the bare skin of your arm. “Not quite, but it’s making your heart race, isn’t it?”

You couldn’t help the blush that crept to your cheeks, silently willing your heart to slow as it hammered insistently against your ribcage. Tenderly, he brushed your hair off your shoulder, exposing your neck. Instinctively, you tilted your head back, showing more of it.

He hummed in approval, licking his lips. “Here, just a little taste first.”

He grabbed one of your hands, bringing it to his face. He kissed the tip of your index finger before taking some of it into his mouth. His inky black eyes held your gaze as you suddenly felt a painful prick on your digit that made you gasp once more.

He groaned softly, holding your wrist as he lapped at the thin rivulet of blood. The mere sight paralyzed you for a moment, but it’d be a lie to say it didn’t make your cunt throb.

And to make matters worse, the small rush of shame that followed this realization only seemed to turn you on more. Without thinking, you raked your free hand in his hair, tugging his head towards you.

“Do it,” you rasped, your tone dangerously close to begging. “Please.”

“God bless you,” he said deliriously, clasping you tighter against his chest. “Oh, God bless you. I-I want to make it good for you, too.”

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing you in and letting out another weak sound at your dizzying warmth. You shuddered and he scented a small note of fear as you tightened your grip on his hair. He shushed softly, soothingly, his lips ghosting over a quivering vein.

When his teeth first pierced the sensitive flesh, you let out a pained mewl as all of your muscles seized. Then — as fast as it had come — the pain vanished and you went slack against him. Stars danced in your vision as you felt the vibration of his groan against your throat.

Every single one of your nerve endings was alight with pleasure, which only seemed to grow in intensity.

Without you really noticing, your hips rocked back and forth, clothed cunt dragging against his leg in short, desperate movements that made your eyes roll to the back of your skull. He gripped one of your hips tightly, guiding your movements with urgency.

In the kitchen, the kettle started whistling loudly just as an orgasm hit you like a freight train, rattling your very bones. You felt yourself melting in a way you never had before, toeing the line between life and death. You’d have gladly gone to heaven in that moment – or hell, for that matter – if fate so decided. He held you steady throughout, running a soothing hand up and down your spine.

Just when exhaustion began to creep in from the blood loss, he painstakingly pulled away, his mouth stained crimson. He looked drunken and dazed, like he was caught in between dreams. But he also seemed less frail, and definitely more alert, pupils fully dilated.

“Thank you,” he breathed, gazing at you adoringly. Reverently, even.

Diligently, he lapped at the weeping puncture wounds. His lips left a smear behind as he kissed your collarbone, hands ripping at your blouse to expose more flesh. Panting, you tried to undo the buttons of his shirt with shaking fingers, but he stopped you.

“Lovely, eager thing. We’ll get there. Let me take care of you first,” he murmured against your sternum.

He tore any garment that stood in his way fervently, until you were practically naked in his lap. Your back arched, taut as a bow, as he continued leaving sanguine kisses in his wake. He hauled you into his arms with preternatural strength as he stood up. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you into his bedroom, laying you down on the bed gently.

There, standing over you, he seemed every bit the statuesque figure that plagued your dreams. His eyes glinted in the half-dark, reflecting the moonlight spilling in through the window. He sank to his knees as if preparing for prayer, his grin hungry as he hooked his arms around your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the bed.

“Come here, little lamb. My most precious sacrifice. My hunger for you has not nearly been sated,” he said, licking his lips. “I am yet to make a feast of you.”

A kiss on your navel that had you shaking all over again. If you had come so hard without so much as a caress, you couldn’t imagine the delirium of his mouth where you ached for it most. Perhaps then, you would truly cross the line for good.

He discarded the last garment covering you, revealing your glistening, slippery cunt for his appraisal. He made an agonized sound, ducking his head immediately to kiss your inner thigh. The tip of his tongue traced your skin just a little bit, getting a taste of your divine essence.

He knew then and there that he was utterly lost; That he would no longer know a greater devotion than this. What a perfect altar for him to worship you, the cradle of your thighs. It took all of his willpower not to sink his teeth into your femoral artery and drain you further, until all of your blood mingled with his.

Another day, perhaps, when you’d recovered some.

Instead, he finally licked a long, languid stripe through your soaked folds. With a low moan, his mouth latched onto your overly sensitive bundle of nerves, making your entire body jerk. He gripped your thighs harder as you squirmed, your fingers burying in his dark curls and holding on for dear life.

You hadn’t expected him to be so good at it, but then again, it was a night of surprises. Not that you could ever complain, anyway. Your wanton moans only encouraged him further, his lips and tongue and even the slightest graze of his teeth making you buck and arch on the mattress.

Once more, you felt a tidal wave begin to form, making your breath come out in sharp little exhales. But you didn’t want to let go again quite yet, at least not like this, with so much distance between your bodies.

You resorted to pleading, attempting to pull his head back. “F-Father wait, please, I want—”

“Don’t hold back from me,” he urged hoarsely, between licks. “Come on, give me one more. I’ll reward you doubly, I promise.”

You began to protest once more, but with an expert swirl of his tongue, the wave finally crested. Violently crashing against the rocks of your sanity. Your eyes searched for heaven again at the back of your head, mouth falling slack in rapture. He made sure you rode it all the way through, softly murmuring praises.

You lay there spent, chest heaving with great, deep breaths. He chuckled, both amused and inexplicably fond at the sight of you so undone. He pulled back to make quick work of his clothes, smears of dry blood further darkening his black shirt.

“I fear you might be turning me into a glutton,” he said, removing his collar and setting it down on the nightstand.

Your eyes trailed his fingers as he unbuttoned his shirt, and you gave him a weak, teasing smile. “You are not the only insatiable creature here, Father.”

“I see that now,” he grinned, his canines all too sharp. “What a great gift He has bestowed upon me, bringing you here.”

His jeans were next to go, merely kicked to one side, and his body slid over yours in a warm embrace. Then finally, mercifully, his lips found yours in a slow, searing kiss. It was the last piece missing from the puzzle that connected you; The last nail on the coffin of your fate.

You tasted yourself on his tongue, moaning into his mouth as you cupped the back of his head. Ankles crossed behind his back, pressing down, silently urging him closer. He guided himself into you, moving slowly so you could get used to the stretch. There was a growl low in his throat as he bottomed out, and his kiss became fiercer. Possessive, even.

The only sound in the dimly lit room was that of flesh slapping together lewdly as he quickened his pace, your sharp breaths and wistful sighs. The way he whispered your name like a prayer as he nearly dissolved with passion. It was then that you broke the kiss, tilting your head to the side as his lips chased yours in a dreamlike, desperate state. You shifted, baring your throat for him to ravage once more.

“Just like this,” you murmured, eyelashes fluttering over your cheekbones as you readied yourself. “I’m yours.”

“Only a little more,” he promised, kissing the base of your neck before tracing his way up with his nose.

A gasp, and then you were submerged in that languid, morphine state. Ecstasy hit him like lightning, and he was no longer able to hold back. He trembled against you as he came, crushing you tighter to him, buried to the hilt. You felt heat flooding you as he sealed the puncture wounds again, lips finding yours right after.

He rolled off of you only to tuck you both in, drawing you close and kissing the top of your head. His onyx eyes scanned your beatific features, wonder and amazement written all over his own.

“The night suits you, my dear,” he said, wiping strands of your hair away from your sweat-dotted face. “Perhaps it would be less lonesome with you around...”

He seemed truly vulnerable in that moment, smaller, entirely human. Eyebrows pinched together in consternation, lips pursed with some guilt at his actions. You snuggled even closer, leeching off his body heat. If anything, seeing this side of him, complex and familiar in a way you instinctively understood, reassured you.

“Will you take my hand and guide me through it?” You asked, voice low and wistful.

He nodded, lacing his fingers through yours. “Through the valley of the shadow of death and beyond. There is still so much for you to see, and the gift of time is at our disposal. Isn’t that a lovely thought?”

Yes, yes it was. Comforting enough to finally drift into dreams of the stars beyond the horizon.

#midnight mass fanfiction #father paul fanfiction #father paul x reader #monsignor pruitt fanfiction #monsignor pruitt x reader #minors dni

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tagthescullion · 2 months ago

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I never like it when I see people claiming that obviously Maria di Angelo couldn't have been a devout Catholic with their sole proof being that she had two kids out of wedlock with a Greek god and knew that the Greek gods existed.

First of all, she might have worked in the Greek pantheon into her beliefs, like how Sam is still a practicing Muslim in the Magnus Chase books despite her knowing about the Norse gods. Maybe Maria didn't, but maybe she did. We have no way of knowing.

And second of all, about her having two kids out of wedlock...whenever I see posts like that, I'm always like "I hate to break it to you, but plenty of religious people have had kids without being married and still believe in their religion." It doesn't necessarily prove anything.

after years online, I've come to the conclusion that people from non-majorly catholic countries have a very bizarre perspective of how catholicism works for most people. ((also we have the best aesthetic, so my maria (and nico too) will keep being catholics in my hcs))

1- most practicant people aren't god-fearing cunts who think 'the homosexuals' are bad and that you go to hell if you miss mass one sunday

2- most practicant people I know --not going to orthodox religious people, who are a minority, at least here-- are pretty chill, like sure, we tend to think god is "the powerful one" but we do believe in saints, angels, etc, so pushing it to have other powerful not-quite-human beings isn't that much of a stretch? (don't get me wrong, irl people don't generally share my strange stance of: my god is the one I care about but he might be having tea with allah and hades, not my problem. but, we are not talking about irl people)

why would maria think God is less powerful just because there's simply more non-God powerful creatures? I get it, people were more god-fearing at the time, even if they were fake too in elites, but this isn't proper historical fiction, I wouldn't be surprised if rick didn't even know catholicism wasn't the mormons, I honestly.. urgh.. anyway

3- in high society, having bastards wasn't that big of a deal if you were a guy, catholic or not, and while as a woman it was more annoying to cover, it still happened tonnes.. don't forget up to the 1940s (and more, but let's stay at the di angelo's time) people would marry "suitable partners" they didn't necessarily love, they could be good buddies and all but not always loved (specially in higher social circles), so falling in love to the side wasn't unheard of nor as morally reprehensible as we see it these days

ONE DETAIL THO: I've read that muslim people were very much against samirah believing in more gods than allah, even if she did put allah in a higher hierarchy.. I'm not muslim, so I won't comment on how samirah plays a part in both religions

#maria di angelo #samirah al abbas #pjo #pjo hoo toa #mcga #riordanverse #pjo hcs #hcs #religion #<-idk how to tag that so people can filtre it if they want #tagthescullion #cevenini responde

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nightcolorz · 4 months ago

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woahh okay first time i attempted to send this ask my tumblr glitched and deleted it. idk if it sent but ignore it if so i wanted to reword it anyway. (tw for sa discussions and sexual abuse/trauma)

either way ive been thinking a lot about the post you wrote about armand’s (or amadeo’s) hypersexuality in venice and i saw a very similar post on twitter, essentially saying armand was so confused and horny in venice and ended up going to bianca for solice (then feeling incredibly guilty about it) and then later harlech as he weaponised his sexuality as a form of revenge on marius “ignoring” him (eventually tragically leading to his death)

it just puts such a tragic image into my head of amadeo in bianca’s bedchamber, crying and crying after having sex with her because he doesn’t understand why he feels the way he does, why he desires sex so much after all he’s been through, and not realising it is a trauma response, a last ditch effort to keep himself alive by acclimatising to his environment of sexual abuse, and then it later killing him anyway.

Armand is so Sad. im so sad.

any other thoughts from you?

doooonttt worry lol ur previous ask didn’t send haha (I’m sorry stinky tumblr deleted it tho damn) but I LOVE this ask so thank u sm for resending it!!

omgg this makes me so sad holy shit 😭 I never made the connection that Amadeo’s hyper sexuality reaction to sa trauma led to his death but ugh, omg, ur so right that’s so tragic. It’s also specifically Marius abusing him that leads him to his death, bcus Armand feeling the massive loss of agency and control over his life and sexuality cuz of Marius causes him to get with harlech (someone he knows is dangerous) bcus he wants to make Marius angry and to distance himself from his perceived control by self destructing. Marius starts having Armand go to brothels against his will, Marius resents Armand for doing the thing he told him to and starts “ignoring him”, boom harlech boom death

the Bianca thing is so interesting, especially Armand’s guilt and perceived lack of control of his actions. It’s like, he is realizing that for reasons he can’t understand he isn’t able to control his sexual impulses and he is consumed by them in a way that dictates his behavior, which is scary as shit especially for someone who has been taught to be frightened of sexuality for his entire life. Armand seems to perceive himself being hyper sexual as akin to being like his abusers, where he seems to think that since he can’t control his sexual urges and makes poor decisions bcus of horniness hes akin to a rapist which 😰💔 that type of guilt is rlly common for sa victims who experience complicated reactions to trauma unfortunately. But ugh.

slight change of topic, but I always think about how hard and strange it must’ve been for Amadeo to go from 24/7 sex and sexual urges to sexless being thrown into catholic cult where u can’t bathe urself let alone fuck. Like that’s the kind of whiplash between two harmful extremes that makes someone into a person like Armand, lmao

#armand #tvc #the vampire chronicles #iwtv #vampire chronicles #interview with the vampire #the vampire armand

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evanpetersmybf · 9 months ago

Text

Scary Love

Kit Walker x female!reader

Summary: A future nun with trust issues and a falsely accused gentleman.

Genre: Fluff and some angst.

Word count: 1,381

Warnings: Catholic reader and mention of some religious items (not really sure if this counts as a warning, but okay)

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ཐི ♡ ཋྀ

...And lead us not into temptation,

but deliver us from evil.

Amen.

You crossed yourself, still kneeling down in front of the crucifix, hands holding a Holy Mary medal.

The chapel was quiet and peaceful, a big difference in comparison to the rest of the asylum, which was always filled with screams and many other disturbing stuff. How did you end up in this hellhole? That’s the question you ask yourself every night before going to sleep. Ah yes, you were the one who took this decision. No one forced you.

You returned to the main room; a jukebox eternally playing Dominique non-stop while all the patients coexisted in the common hall.

And there he was. The one and only Kit Walker. Probably the most sane person in the habitation right now, besides you of course.

The handsome man saw you and a sweet smile appeared on his face, cute dimples along the lovely grin. Seeing him made you feel multiple things at the same time. Things you didn’t allow yourself to feel. With a heavy sigh of remorse, you avoided his gaze and kept walking around, finding an excuse to get away from him.

Kit’s brows furrowed, not getting what was happening. Why were you avoiding him? He thought you two were good friends now. In reality, you were one of the few people in the psychiatric who actually treated him as a human being and not as a crazy murderer -which he clearly wasn’t, tho- and that melted his heart.

He followed you from behind, but you kept escaping.

“Sista’!” He pleaded, until was finally able to catch up and grabbed your hand, making you turn around to face him. “Sista’ Y/N, what's goin’ on?” His dark doe eyes tried to meet yours, as an attempt to find an answer.

Nothing.

Kit scoffed, making early assumptions due to your lack of reaction. “So do ya’ really believe in that bullshit, huh? Ya’ really think I killed my wife?” Annoyed, the man let go of your hand, but deep down he hoped you didn’t think of him that way.

“No, wait!” You replied, looking down at the floor while fidgeting with a cross necklace hanging around your neck. “Is not like that, Kit…”

“Then what is it, sista’? Are ya’ scared of me?”

“I actually am.” You took a deep breath and stared at his eyes after hesitating for a while. “I’m afraid you are the temptation, Kit.”

The brunet raised an eyebrow, having more questions than answers. “Whatcha’ mean, sista’? Da’ temptation?”

“The temptation I always pray to God to keep far from me.” Your gaze drifted to his forearms; thick veins and big hands. Oh Lord.

Kit realized you were staring down. He tried to discover what were you looking at, until he noticed your eyes and a subtle blush on your cheeks.

He smirked and crossed his arms in front of him. That cheeky smile. The one who made you head over heels.

“Oh, so now I’m da’ devil, hm?”

You didn’t say anything else. You ran away from him and locked yourself in your room.

Kit was always on your mind. No matter what you did, he was always there. Even when you attempted to pray, you heard his voice. Maybe you need to be the patient and not a novice.

After a long sleepless night, you found yourself in the kitchen early in the morning, just to find Kit kneading dough and mumbling some things to himself.

“Mornin’, sista’” Voice soft like honey, yet it showed some concern because of what happened yesterday between you two. “Ya’ ‘kay?”

“Mhm…” Of course not. You weren’t okay. You felt conflicted.

“If I may ask… Why did ya’ become a nun?”

“I’m not a nun yet. I haven’t made my vows. I’m here tryin’ to find out if this truly is my vocation or not.”

“And? Have you made up your mind?”

You shook your head no, hugging yourself and looking at his arms, again. “You’re the reason why I don’t know if I belong here.”

Kit let out a chuckle, feeling amused by your shyness and obvious fixation on his limbs.

“Why do ya’ always stare at my hands, sista’? Do ya’ like ‘em?”

Your face went red, eyes slightly widened. Damn. He noticed it.

“I’m not supposed to like those sinful things.”

“Ya’ a human too, Y/N”

“But I wasn’t made for this. For affection or lust.”

Kit was curious about what you meant by that. You explained everything to him, saying you felt out of place because when you were growing up not a single boy flirted with you. Besides, you said you had many awful love experiences and, after a serious heartbreak, you began to wonder if possibly your destiny was staying single and dedicating the rest of your life to God. Furthermore, you mentioned your fear of physical touch, and how you still desired it. It was complicated.

The man listened to you, looking at how you fidgeted with a chain while you nervously told your story, taking note of how your soothing voice cracked from time to time.

Everything about you was so alluring to him. He couldn’t believe no one treated you right. And, as the gentleman he was, he wanted to change that.

“Well, sista’... To me, you’re one of da’ most beautiful women alive. I mean it.” Kit took a few steps closer to you, but kept a fair distance in order to not make you uncomfortable.

He cracked a smile, in love with those charming eyes of yours.

“If I’m that beautiful, why haven't I been loved, Kit? Tell me why–”

Kit was now some inches away from your face contemplating your lips. He placed a hand over your mouth, not letting you finish your sentence.

You tried to speak, but it was nonsense; his palm muffling your words.

“Y/N, ‘m not like those assholes. Not at all. Trust me, please.”

He let you speak again, now intertwining his fingers with yours. His body was warm, his touch was gentle and comforting, the type of connection you’ve been craving for too long. Walker was so good-looking; you could look at him forever… And he could look at you for the rest of eternity, too.

“Can I, gorgeous?” His thumb brushed your lips and part of your cheek, sending electric waves to your spine.

Was this even for real? You doubt it. You thought he was messing around, but he wasn’t.

Fearfully, you agreed.

Finally, Kit leaned in and pressed his chapped lips against your velvety ones. The kiss was tender, full of endearment. His heart was beating fast, so was yours. Pupils dilated and breathing deep.

He cupped the side of your face, rubbing the flesh with his digit while you melted under his touch.

This was the very first time that someone held you the way he did. Embracing you as if you were the most precious gem, or as if you were made of delicate porcelain.

Eventually, he pulled away and grinned, both of you feeling like dorky teens after having their first kiss, even if that wasn’t the case. “Ya’ so divine…” Kit mumbled and then, his lips were dancing with yours.

He stepped back from time to time exclusively to flatter you, saying corny compliments between the kisses.

His hands were roaming all over your body, caressing every right spot to make you feel in heaven.

He was so good at this.

But… Did this have a future?

Kit was here in Briarcliff, falsely accused of committing a murder. Not only that, you were a novice. This love couldn’t be.

Your mind overwhelmed you with those thoughts, making you abruptly get away from him.

“No, Kit, I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” Or perhaps you could. You felt like losing your mind. Love was making you crazy. However, you couldn’t allow yourself to feel, nor risk his safety for this. Maybe you were scared of his love. Of how much he was caring for you. You didn’t understand.

Without further ado, you left the cold kitchen, once filled with sweetness and adoration.

Kit remained there, a single tear drop falling from his eye, wondering if he could ever be happy again.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ཐི ♡ ཋྀ

A/N: English isn't my first language. Sorry if this has grammatical mistakes. Also, I tried to be respectful with the religion, I'm catholic myself and I'm so sorry if this offends someone. Hope you enjoy it! ^^

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