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aesopsharpmybeloved · 2 years

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Pirate Priest, or Halloween On Crockett Island

Despite its small population, Crockett Island seems quite excited for father Paul's fall festival. And father Paul is quite excited to have you as his helper.

In my Google Drive this fic is named 'the halloween disaster', because I so couldn't find the words to write it. And while this certainly isn't my best work, I don't actually hate it as much as I feared I would, so that's a relief. If anyone's interested in the Juraj Herz film, dm me, I have it on my drive (with English subtitles) - it's my all time favourite film. There will also be a nsfw fanfic which will take place after the pumpkin carrying scene ;)

gif by @lindir

Pirate Priest, or Halloween On Crockett Island (5.1K)

tw: suggestive themes (implied, mentioned), father Paul and reader are very lovey-dovey and h0rny for each other, this is cornier than Kansas in August

If there was a holiday you absolutely loved, it was Halloween. Easter was great, Christmas was brilliant, but it was Halloween who sat on the throne of holidays in your opinion. To watch a scary horror, cuddled on a couch, while sweet neighbourhood kids roamed the streets in all kinds of scary, funny and creative costumes sounded like the idea of heaven to you. This time of year always awoke your inner child, that little thing who just wanted to have fun, cause some mischief, and stuff their mouth with sweets. All in all, Halloween was a big deal for you. You always put various decor in your living space, you always carved so many pumpkins it was a small wonder your hands weren't stained permanently orange, you always put quite some time and effort into your costumes and you made special playlists of songs and horror films. And that was absolutely fine in all the places you've ever lived before.

Now, however, you lived on Crockett Island, a lonely little fishing town with a ridiculously small population, and you were therefore a little worried that all of your Halloween effort would be seen as something of a faux pas. Thankfully, you could always rely on Erin and Annie to advise you. Crockett Island was small, but it wasn't the end of the world, and local children went trick or treating just like all the kids on the mainland, and sometimes there was even a small gathering for adults to have some masqueraded fun too. Except this year, the gathering would be a little bigger.

Father Paul Hill, recently appointed as the local parish priest permanently, already had his place among the citizens of Crockett Island for some time now, but he still wanted to make his sort of mark on the little town, like Monsignor Pruitt did with Crock Pot Luck and the annual baking contest. So when he asked you to help him with preparation of Crockett Island's first fall festival, you enthusiastically agreed.

While Beverly wasn't too 'Keane' on the idea of a Halloween celebration at first (seeing it as only a step from blasphemy, not to mention she was very concerned for the well-being of her precious rec centre in which the night do would take place), she eventually agreed, after much (manipulating) convincing from the priest, that he would personally oversee that everyone present was on their best behaviour, and he would even clean up afterwards. Riley later casually mentioned that Bev probably agreed just to show off what a 'brilliant place she built for the entire community'. You for one honestly couldn't care less what was Bev's reasoning behind her giving her blessings to the party, as you were far too busy already helping Paul with the planning.

---

“How does a pirate priest sound?” asked father Paul suddenly, not looking up from the film playing on the telly. You were surrounded by darkness, lounging on your very comfortable sofa after a shared bath and watching 1978 Beauty and the Beast by Juraj Herz. It was perhaps the most macabre adaptation of the classic fairy tale and your most favourite by far. Hard to resist a gothic romance. It seemed the priest was rather enjoying it, too.

“Sounds like a wild DND session, not going to lie,” you snorted, your torso and head resting against his strong chest. You felt his sigh before it left his lips. “I don’t know what to wear,” he said at last, “I’m not even sure if I should wear any costume, I don’t want anyone to think I’m not taking my work here seriously…” His right hand was resting above your hip and his thumb drew little circles on that little area of bare skin it found there. You felt warm, comfortable and loved. Utterly content. “I don’t think you need to worry about that. If anything, it’ll show the folks you’re not above having fun with them. I’ve been told even Monsignor Pruitt wore a costume when he was invited to some masked gathering. That was before his illness, though,” you said quietly adjusting your position a little, so you could wrap both of your arms around Paul’s slim waist, “as for what to wear… I haven’t made up my mind for my costume either. I had an idea to wear something like a pink flowy gown. You know, like the one Rachel Ward wore in Thorn Birds? But then I thought it might be a little too obvious. Also, that romance didn’t exactly end happily ever after, did it.”

Paul stayed quiet for a bit, his left hand coming to join the right one on your hip, before moving to rest under your t-shirt slightly. You lifted yourself up a little and your eyes moved away from the telly screen to look at him instead. You helped wash his hair in the bath and so it currently lacked any trace of the gel he usually used to tame it back, instead framing his face in loose soft waves. You couldn’t resist reaching a hand out to comb through the dark locks, making him close his eyes in bliss for a moment. “We could just give you some cat ears and call it a day,” you said cheekily. Paul snorted and finally looked at you: “Really?” “You’d be adorable. Especially with your hair like that, you look so pretty.” Even in the dim room illuminated mostly by the TV screen, you could see his cheeks taking on a pink hue. His eyes turned back to the movie.

“What about Father Brown, then? You know, the detective priest?” he asked after a while. You thought for a moment: “That could work. But you might give some people a fright, because you’d look a lot like Monsignor Pruitt, what with the long coat and big hat…” Paul sighed in agreement. “What about a vampire, we could make you look all dark and mysterious,” you offered. “While I have utmost faith in your abilities, I don’t exactly want to be seen as some blood-sucking monster,” he replied.

The Beast appeared on the screen, his giant eagle-like head with human eyes caught on the camera in all of its glory. “Maybe I could be him?” Paul asked then. You giggled softly: “I thought you didn’t want to be a blood-sucking monster!” “Well, no, but he’s good otherwise, he’s just under the curse, isn’t he? I mean he does change back into a human in the movie?”

Once more you looked at him and pushed your fingers into his hair again: “You know what, maybe a pirate is not such a bad idea after all. As long as you leave your hair like this.”

—

It took a lot of convincing. And quite some cash. But it was worth it, completely worth it, you told yourself, even as you tried (and failed) to dust the dirt off your hands and clothes. You found a neat looking pumpkin patch on the mainland and, after speaking on the phone with the owner, managed to secure a few dozen of their glorious orange squashes. The pumpkins themselves were relatively cheap, definitely cheaper than getting them back to Crockett Island, as the farmer had to haul them on the truck himself and drive them towards the port. You also had to bribe Sturge into taking them over the thirty miles of water in his own, small fishing boat, but that was simple enough. Who knew such a large, strong, sometimes nearly intimidating looking man could be so easily won over by just a tray of cupcakes?

However, it was child’s play after that. When the Halloween party/Fall festival was announced through leaflets and the small weekly bulletin, the citizens got rather excited and Halloween decoration soon began appearing on homes, and various volunteers on the rectory’s door. Therefore, there was already a small crowd waiting for the boat back on the island. People would grab a pumpkin or two, using their bare hands, some got more on wheelbarrows, and even the electric golf cart which was usually parked next to the dirt road was buzzing through the small town that day, pumpkins secured on its back like bags of clubs. Many of the pumpkins were left in front of the rec centre, some were deposited into the schoolhouse for kids to carve, many were taken by families to further decorate their home or porch. You watched with a light heart and a happy smile as Erin and Riley walked side by side towards the woman’s home, Riley carrying a 15lb pumpkin, Erin carrying a 12lb 3 month old baby girl.

It was a sight nearly as delightful as father Paul, for once no collar in sight, dressed in work clothes and gloves. As he hauled pumpkin after pumpkin, he eventually took off his jacket to reveal not only a rather close-fitting simple t-shirt, but also two long, tanned arms. You almost tripped and fell at one point, because you were staring, mesmerised, at the muscles working in them. And once your beloved noticed so, he began teasing you - subtly, yet relentlessly. Moving very slowly, making sure you saw every flex of those muscles, making frankly obscene little grunts only you could hear while he picked up yet another pumpkin, or wiping his hands into the (previously) clean t-shirt, somehow pulling the fabric taut against his chest and stomach in the process. And then he had the utter audacity to give you a smile so innocent, you wanted to kiss it off his stupid, gorgeous face. That would have to wait though. “Are you feeling well? You look a little warm,” he whispered into your ear covertly, his voice low and husky. The gall of this man! You just gave him a cheeky little smile and whispered back in the same manner: “Oh, just you wait till I get my hands on you, father.” You watched with a small satisfaction as he shivered.

All in all, it was going rather splendidly. The festival would take place a day before Halloween, from late afternoon until around midnight (or just till everyone left), and the town was buzzing with energy. “This is getting nearly bigger than the spring festival,” Wade said one day as he was dropping off some very cute garlands Dolly and Leeza made, with little smiling bats and ghosts made out of felt fabric. The rec centre really did look beyond recognition. Instead of the large empty space which usually only had three chairs in the middle for the AA meetings, it really looked like a place ready for a party.

Some tables were put against the walls, with various festive tablecloths draped over them, others were lined into neat rows with chairs around them. The gaps between tables were spacious just enough for two people to walk comfortably next to each other. The weather was supposed to be rather mild with no rain, so Paul made the decision to put a few tables outside as well, so there was a little clear area in front of the podium. Last but not least was the decor - there were pumpkins, of course, some carved and some not, in every corner of the room, some little experimental knick-knacks you tried to DIY, and little Halloween themed fairy lights the priest was currently placing strategically on the walls, according to your directions. You were supposed to be the one to put them there originally, however with your little ladder accident still fresh in Paul’s memory, you had to step down. Literally.

“Not too shabby, huh?” you grinned at the mayor, “just imagine how cool this place will look once there are lit candles in the jack o’lanterns and themed drinks and snacks on the table!” You moved to one of the tables by the wall: “Here’s where the adult drinks will be, some beer on the tap, perhaps some wine and cider and, of course, punch. There will also be non-alcoholic punch, but it will be on this table too, so the guy handing out the drinks will keep an eye out if someone decides to spice it up a bit.” Wade chuckled next to you: “Really think that’s necessary?” “They’re good kids, I know, but better be safe and sorry. Last thing we need is a couple of drunk teenagers deciding a late night swim in the sea is a great idea.”

“So, I see the two of you got things handled really well,” the mayor said after a while, putting his hands into his pockets. “Oh no, I’m only helping, this is all father Paul’s work,” you wave your hand in dismissal. “Nonsense,” came somewhere from the right, before you heard footsteps coming closer, “I merely came up with the idea, it’s been (F/N) who’s been doing most of the work and, frankly, I’d be lost without her.” He gave you a long look, catching your gaze and you felt your cheeks turn pink under the intensity of his eyes. The gravity of Paul’s declaration seemed to be lost on the Mayor though, who only smiled at the two of you: “Don’t be so humble, you’re doing a great job, both of you. Me and Dolly, and especially Leeza, are really looking forward to this festival. But, I won’t keep you any longer. Have a nice afternoon father, (F/N).” And with that he left.

After the door to the rec centre was shut once more and a few moments passed, you turned towards your lover and put your hands against his chest, slowly moving them up until they connected behind his neck. “You’d be lost without me, huh?” you asked teasingly as you closed the gap between your bodies, your face mere inches away from his. He gave you one of his most brilliant smiles, the one that made you feel like you really were the most important thing in the universe for him, before he leaned down to steal a soft kiss from your lips. “Dreadfully lost.”

—

Your hands and arms were wet, sticky and freezing, but neither of those things could wipe the smile from your face. You carved pumpkin after pumpkin all afternoon, some cute, some creepy, some plain silly. Paul carved one or two, but then decided to make use of the pumpkin guts in preparation of some creamy soup. How could you say no to that? Now that you were done with your orange friends, you felt more than ready to go inside to wash your hands, warm up and fill your belly with some hot pumpkin soup. Paul gave you a smile when you came in and beckoned you with his forefinger to come closer. You did, and the priest held out a spoon full of soup, holding his hand underneath so as not to spill any on the floor. “Careful, it’s hot,” he said with that low husky voice of his. You blew on the spoon a little bit and then accepted it into your mouth.

“What do you think?” he asked after you’d swallowed. “Mhmm,” you murmured appreciatively, “I think I’m going to kiss the cook.” And you did just so, earning a chuckle in the process and a warm hand took a hold of your face. After a little while of slow kissing, you parted from your lover: “I’ll go wash up real quick, we’ll have the delicious supper you made, then try on some costumes, what do you say?” “Sounds great,” he grinned and turned back to the stove to turn it off and plate the soup up. You had a few possible costumes and they were currently hanging in the bedroom of the rectory. Some parts of them were rented, some were bought, some were put together with what you had on hand.

Before father Paul could reach any of them though, he felt two points of something sliding against his temples, lower and lower, ceasing to move right above his sideburns. A headband of some sort. “Aww…” you cooed, “I was right, you do look adorable! Father Meow-Meow!” “No way,” he laughed, as you led him towards the bathroom mirror. “You don’t really think this is adorable, do you?” he asked in good humour, feeling just a little ridiculous, as he stared at himself in the mirror, two fluffy cat ears on the sides of his head. “But I do!” you promised, curling your arms around his torso from behind and resting your chin against his shoulder. Father Paul reached up to remove the cat ears and plopped them on your head instead.

“You should wear them, you look adorable,” he chuckled then. “Oh, I am your little kitten, aren’t I?” you purred, giving a little lick to the skin of his neck. Paul chuckled once more and put his arms against your own, still around his waist. A few minutes passed, before you too took off the headband. “Alright, alright, no catboy priest for Halloween,” you grumbled dramatically, “we’re keeping this, though.” “Come on,” he beckoned you, “let’s try the actual costumes.”

It was a fun evening. One by one father Paul tried on various costumes and allowed you to use some make-up and face paint on him to go with them. Black kohl around his dark eyes, a little grime on his cheek and a little scar for the pirate costume, which consisted of a loose white shirt with a lace up collar, dark blue waist sash with a big leather belt, loose dark trousers and high boots. The pièce de résistance was the long dark waistcoat and a faux-leather tricorn hat. There was no unnecessary kitsch or untasteful accessories. You had to admit, Paul looked very very handsome in the ensemble. “Well?” he asked, turning around a little. “I’d say you could kidnap, and ravage, and don’t give a hoot me anytime, captain,” you said cheekily with a wink, “no, really. It looks great, honestly. If you need to, you can always take off the waistcoat and hat, and it won’t lose any of its magic, so that’s a plus. More important is how you feel wearing it?”

Paul and you discussed all pros and cons of every costume. You persuaded him to at least try on the vampire costume you rented, and after some exaggeration of his cheekbones and eye sockets with more makeup, even he had to agree he made for an okay looking sucker. ‘Eerily seductive’ you said, actually. You dismissed the angel outfit you picked as an experiment almost immediately. It was obviously sewn for someone shorter than Paul and it fit all wrong. It also somehow just didn’t work with the priest’s dark features.

A fisherman’s costume you put together in the latest Crockett Island fashion fit him perfectly, and he looked… so entirely different. Upon first look, he looked unrecognisable from any other fisherman on the island, with simple chequered shirt and a dark jumper, thick beige overalls going all the way down his long legs, nearly concealing his heavy boots clad feet. The look was completed with a trucker cap on the priest’s head. Except once he moved, it was painfully obvious he was no fisherman. The men of Crockett Island were hardy, toughened by their lives and their work, and Paul was always so mindful in his movements, graceful even, and it oh so clashed with his current clothes.

While you thought the fisherman costume looked very good and convincing, as long as Paul moved a little more heavily, the priest himself was worried that people may see it as mockery of their trade, and the last thing he wanted was to offend his neighbours and friends. In the end, Paul seemed most content about the pirate costume (it was his original idea, after all), and you had to agree it really was the best choice. Nothing extravagant, easy to change to and from and the priest truly wore it well.

“You want to try the entire thing on again, just to be sure?” you teased, putting the discarded costumes aside, so you could sort through them and send back what you rented and borrowed. “I think it’s fine,” grinned Paul, removing the last remnants of make-up from his face with a cotton pad. He was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, clad only in the pyjama bottoms he put on after undressing the last costume. “Besides,” he said, “it’s getting quite late. We should turn in.” You now stood in the door frame of the bathroom, leaning against it and eyeing him appreciatively. After you hadn’t said anything for a while, he gave you a questioning look. You smiled innocently and held out your hand, revealing the cat ears headband once more: “Put them on? Pretty please…”

—

You stepped under the hot ray of water in the rectory’s shower. You spent like two entire days in your kitchen, preparing various themed party favours. Edible glass shards cupcakes, little chocolate brown recluses, cheese biscuits that looked like skulls and squishy jello eyeballs for the punch were among the many spooky nibbles you prepared just for the celebration. “This is a brown recluse, but if you want a black widow, marry me,” you quoted Christine McConnell to father Paul once, earning an amused scoff and eye roll. She was the one who gave you the inspiration for your snacks, after all.

Speaking of father Paul, you grinned at the tiles in front of you, as you heard the soft click of a door followed by a quiet creak. Then came a rustle of clothes and soon enough the priest pushed back the curtain and stepped right behind you. Without a single sound, long arms wrapped around your waist and a warm body pressed against your back. “Hm,” he purred against your ear, “you smell like a cake shop.” You giggled and put your hands over his: “I wonder why.” He stepped back a bit to put some soap on his hands and began washing your back, gently massaging out the little kinks and knots that formed there during your kitchen work. You sighed in bliss and let him turn you around to face him once he was happy with the result of his work.

You kissed wetly, the hot water cascading down your bodies. You helped wash one another, hair and body, exchanging soft caresses and gentle unhurried kisses throughout. You felt content to enjoy the sensations for a while, after all, nearly everything was done and ready, so you had some time for tenderness. After the shower, you helped Paul get ready in his costume. You applied the kohl around his eyes and made sure his hair was nicely ruffled and wild, while yours was still damp and you sat barefoot, only covered by a fluffy warm towel.

“Aaand, you’re good to go,” you said, looking him up and down appreciatively. He did make for a very good-looking pirate. You were honestly happy with how he turned out, the costume was easy to distinguish, while still looking quite subtle and decent. “Now wait here, I need to get ready,” you winked at him, grabbing the bag with your costume and going to the direction of the bathroom. “What, seriously? You’re still not going to tell me what your costume is?” Laughed the pirate priest. You got behind the bathroom door and only poked your head out, winking at your lover: “It’s a surprise!”

Maybe fifteen minutes later, you looked at yourself in the mirror one last time and smiled. The long red gown felt soft and smooth against your skin, the belt and headpiece shined and sparkled under the golden glow of the lightbulb above. You decided against wearing a golden wig and instead just worked with your natural hair. Your makeup was subtle and only highlighted your features. Taking a deep breath, you turned the light off and stepped out of the bathroom. Father Paul was sitting on the edge of the bed, book in hands. His eyes immediately turned to you and you felt a tingle in your belly upon seeing his reaction.

His eyebrows rose and mouth opened slightly, dark eyes sliding up and down your body and face. He closed the book, not bothering to mark the page he was on, and unceremoniously dropped it onto the mattress beside him. He stood and came closer, a small smile and a faint blush appearing on his face. “Well hello, Princess Buttercup,” he whispered. You giggled quietly and stood on your tippy toes to press a kiss against his upper lip. “Do you like it?” you looked into his eyes coyly. “Mhm,” he murmured, “you look very beautiful… But I’m afraid I look very far from Dread Pirate Roberts.” You gave him a grin and looked down, picking at his loose white shirt carefully: “That’s the point. It would have been too obvious if you did… Now let’s get the party started, what do you say?” Paul gave you a tiniest little laugh as he closed his hands around your own: “As you wish.”

Well, it was one thing after another after that. You and Paul arrived at the rec centre, where there already were a few people. Namely the DJ, who was setting up his equipment at the podium and a few volunteers who too prepared some food and drinks for the festival. There was Annie, in a very tasteful Olive Oyl costume and you chuckled, excited to hopefully see Ed dressed as the spinach obsessed sailor. Dolly made for a very pretty vampire lady, her dark crimson gown with high collar went so well with her thick curly hair. She was currently lighting candles and putting them inside the jack o’ lanterns. To your surprise, Bev was there too, observing the room with mild apprehension. Of course, she wasn’t wearing a costume. While you often had several things you’d like to say to the woman, you really didn’t want to start any argument on such a lovely day. Therefore you put on your friendliest smile and prepared to use your most polite tone as you approached her.

“Good afternoon, Miss Keane, how do you find the decoration?” She looked at you with suspicion, as you normally went out of your way to avoid her. “Well,” she said at last, “I suppose it could be much worse,” she took one more look around. “I hope the rec centre will still be standing in the morning.” “No worries, Miss, father Paul and I will personally see this place being squeaky clean tomorrow.” She gave you a hard look upon hearing the words ‘Father Paul and I’ , and looked as if she wanted to retort with something, but only muttered a quiet ‘Please do’ , before she turned on her heel and walked out. For all the bad traits the woman had, stupidity wasn’t one of them. You didn’t know why she never said anything, why she never did anything to harm you, but it was obvious the woman knew to some extent the relationship between the local priest and the prose writing outsider wasn’t exactly innocent.

Not thirty minutes later, Bev Keane was the last thing on your mind. People finally started arriving and the DJ began playing music, loud enough to hear and possibly dance to in front of the podium, but not loud enough to disturb a normal conversation at the tables. You were surprised to see sheriff Hassan and Ali dressed in costumes as well, as you weren’t sure if muslims were allowed to participate in this particular activity. Asking Hassan (after complimenting on his bandit costume), he explained he was rather unsure himself, but didn’t want to rid Ali of the fun more than anything else. Muslims cannot celebrate Halloween as it is, because that would be a shirk. However, merely dressing up to have fun with friends and neighbours, with the only intent being that - fitting in and having fun - should be okay. Apparently, it’s one of the things muslims are quite divided on.

All in all, it was a nice afternoon and evening. You were able to chat up your friends, actually try some of the goodies you spent so long working on, and even dance a little. You finally drank a glass of wine with Erin. Shared a few sneaky stolen kisses with your pirate. Undid the lace on the upper front part of his shirt after he took off the waistcoat. Stroked his thigh and whispered into his ear, once you were concealed by the darkness of dying candles, words of both love and lust. Smiled at Erin as they left. Little Foot was taken for the night by Annie earlier and the childhood sweethearts too could finally spend an evening and night alone together.

“Well…” said the priest, “do we start cleaning now, or in the morning?” his posture was relaxed, cheeks slightly flushed from both the few drinks he had and the quite suggestive conversations the two of you engaged in the entire evening and he looked so absolutely gorgeous. You observed the room after you bathed it in the fluorescent light from the ceiling. It would take quite a bit to clean up, not to mention getting all of the decor out of there. Considering your options, your gaze fell on the priest once more. The exposed soft skin of his neck and collarbone, his dark eyes that seemed even larger with the kohl outlining them looking right back at you with such devotion, the hunger coursing through them making you shiver in anticipation... The cleaning would have to wait, as in that moment, there was nothing else you craved more than being kidnapped and made love to by a pirate. Thankfully, the pirate had similar ideas.

—

It was just after 3 o’clock in the afternoon by the time Paul and you finished cleaning the rec centre. Some decoration was stored for following years, the jack o’lanterns were placed all over the town, food leftovers delivered among neighbours and friends. You kept your promise, everything was squeaky clean and no one would have guessed there even was a party not 24 hours ago. You and your lover, once more clad in his usual clerical shirt, warm cardigan and delightfully tight skinny jeans, walked hand in hand through the little forested area behind the church, heading for your home. In just a few hours, the neighbourhood kids (and teens) would be trick-or-treating around the small town. And you - you’ll be happily cuddled next to your priest on a couch, watching a horror film and stuffing your mouths with some sweets.

If there was a holiday you absolutely loved, it was Halloween

wellp, there you have it, folks. I hope it wasn’t too terrible. Hopefully it’s the end of my writer’s block. As always, you can read this story and the entire series on AO3. I’m such a sucker for feedback, I could very well be a vacuum cleaner.

#father paul x reader #father paul #father paul hill #midnight mass #fanfiction #midnight mass fanfiction #father paul x you #reader insert #lovey-dovey idiots #halloween #halloween fanfiction #im sorry if its rubbish #i promise to be better

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baubeautyandthegeek · 3 months

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Revelations – Beverly Keane/Sheriff Hassan.

A/N: Final fic for @julybreakbingo 's Post July Bingo.

Getting together. People made it sound so easy, but it wasn’t… not for everyone. Beverly Keane, smart as a whip but terrified of every man but the Monsignor, headstrong with faith, had never really known how to understand emotions, not after Joe Collie had taken her innocence brutally the same night she became legal. Unconsenting, frightened and completely broken she had fled. Men, since, had always seemed merely a danger. Sheriff Hassan, a man too devoted to his son and raising him right, had lost himself in his faith. He pushes back with everything Beverly Keane says and does. Fights her every step of the way and pretends like he doesn’t know he’s pushing her because he loves watching her blush with rage. It's in the middle of a fight that he kisses her, swift, so swift she pulls away, flees, half-sobbing into the night, his eyes closing at the revelation. Joe had said ‘Not me, not with her’ and he had thought she chose him to hate, now… now feeling her tremble, seeing the complete fear before she fled. He knew. So they had sat, two people with two friends, completely separate. “We were fighting and I…. I kissed her and…” “He kissed me and I…. I ran.” Sarah sizes Hassan up, sighs then mutters something he wishes he didn’t understand. ‘Fucking Joe’. He agrees, more than he cares to admit. Father Paul, truly John Pruitt, watches her eyes as Beverly talks, eyes locked on joined hands and knows. He knows what he has to say. “Go. Go find…” “Go find her.” “Him.” She comes to him before Hassan can seek her out, passing Sarah on the way in and Hassan smiles softly as he stands, watching her jaw tense as he moves closer, reaching past her to lock the door slowly, his lips inches from hers, the light of understanding in them dragging a soft sob from her. “Don’t… don’t run… please.” His voice is low, soft, almost too tender and she swallows slightly even as his lips find hers, a small whimper of fear and wanting escaping her even as her fingers tangle into his shirt, pulling him closer, her breath hitching when his hands rest on her back, his smile soft as he breaks for air. “I won’t…. I’m not him. Beverly. I’m not… I’m not Joe.” “I know… I… I’m sorry. I was so…” “You hid behind rudeness, insults and racism. I know. I know but I… I never held that against you, not really.” His sigh is soft. “Can I… walk you home?” She nods, small, meek and he smiles, stealing another soft kiss and leading her out. Next day they will face the small township, his hand at her hip, hers tucked against his back, sharp nails digging into him a little as they face the truth. Ali had exposed them early, now, he sighs and looks at Father Paul. “So…. We need to discuss… discuss converting.” Later, days later, he will discuss it all with Ali, why his son had heard the door slam, why Beverly had cried so brutally and Ali… Ali will curse Joe, full voiced curses, before admitting he is coming to like the woman, if his dad can only not fuck it up. This time.

#beverly keane #sheriff hassan #beverly/hassan #hassan/beverly #midnight mass #post july break bingo 2023

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katherine-traylor · 2 years

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Belated review: 'Midnight Mass'

My partner and I often have trouble choosing what to watch. She’s seen almost everything, for one thing, and I hate making her rewatch things. The overlap in our tastes also isn’t that wide, so it can be difficult finding something we both enjoy. Last week I randomly picked Midnight Mass, though, and it turned out to be a very good choice.

To make it clear: we are not horror fans. I walked out of IT about ten minutes in, and my attempt at watching Ju-On ended after ten seconds. We’ve both been curious about The Haunting of Hill House, also by Mike Flanagan, but we weren’t together when it came out and neither of us wanted to watch it alone. (Maybe now we’ll try.) Jump scares are the real issue, at least for me. I feel them like a physical assault, and that’s not a feeling I want in my entertainment media. Fortunately, Midnight Mass doesn’t have too many,, and the ones it has are for dramatic effect, so I didn’t mind them too much. Overall, it’s a beautiful series, with great acting, wonderful music, and gorgeous cinematography.

SPOILERS below, for obvious reasons.

We start with Riley Flynn. While driving drunk, he causes an accident that kills a teenage girl and is sent to prison for four years. The story begins when he comes home to the dying fishing community of Crockett Island. At the same time, Erin Greene, Riley’s childhood friend and sweetheart, has come home pregnant from a bad marriage. She’s settling into life as a single mom-to-be, taking her own mother’s place as the island’s only teacher. At the same time, Sheriff Hassan, one of two Muslims on the island and a recent transfer from New York City, is trying to build a meaningful life in a small, hostile town where there’s nothing much to do. His son resents him for bringing him here, and both are generally made to feel like outsiders. Meanwhile, the island’s few teenagers do their best to keep themselves sane in a place where nothing interesting has happened in years.

Then something does happen: to the shock of everyone in the congregation of St. Patrick’s, the local Catholic church, a new priest has come to fill in for the old priest, Monsignor Pruitt, who supposedly fell ill on his return from a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. The new priest, Father Paul, is very good at his job: kind, charismatic, and a talented preacher. Everyone seems to like him, and attendance at mass is going up. Good things are happening, relationships are forming, upswing, and the community as a whole seems to be on an upswing.

At the same time, though, some pretty nasty things are happening, too. (Content warning, if you’re thinking of watching this show: there are lots of animal deaths, including one very graphic one that’s extremely awful.) Father Paul seems to know more than he should, and in general there seem to be lots of secrets for an island with 127 people on it.

Then a genuine miracle happens at St. Patrick’s, and suddenly the mood changes.

I won’t completely spoil the rest, but I will say we were just a hair disappointed by the revelation of what’s actually happening in town: the truth wasn’t quite as mysterious and strange as the first episodes suggested. But it was a really neat twist on the trope.

The priest (played by Hamish Linklater) was a cool character: earnest, devoted, well-meaning, and tragically misguided. The congregation was also mostly devoted and well-meaning (though, critically, not all of them were) and I thought the director did a good job showing the positives and negatives of deep religious faith. Mike Flanagan apparently grew up Catholic and is now atheist, and you can definitely see that in this series. The incorporation of religious music is very effective, and it’s neat how key moments of the story are set at key points during Holy Week, building up to a catastrophic midnight mass on the eve of Easter Sunday where everything finally goes down.

The final scene of the show is really beautiful, and it’s a great callback/final summation of all those religious themes, with what felt like a reenactment of some of the earliest days of Christianity. It was clearly very deeply thought through, and really effective. Addiction, the show’s other main theme, was really well dealt with, treating the subject with both honesty and compassion. The series also has things to say about life in a small, traditional, dying community. The depiction was really strong, but if it had been possible, I would have liked to see just a tiny bit more of Crockett Island before everything went to pieces. I’m not even sure what state it’s supposed to be–Maine, maybe? It’s not important, I guess, but it would have been nice to know a little more about some of the extras who died horrifically during the course of the show.

One of the strongest points of the series was Bev Keane, played by Samantha Sloyan. She was a fantastic villain in that I absolutely hated her from moment one. Well done. She’s a kind of person who feels very familiar, though I can’t think of specific examples: a judgmental zealot who resents all the sinners around her for having a good time, and who can’t understand why everyone seems to be happier than her when she’s following all the rules and they’re not. There was some interesting little-girl imagery her portrayal (hair in a single braid down her back, Peter Pan collars, a high-necked white dress for mass, and a general air of “malicious tattletale” attitude”) that shows you she’s always been like this. Having never matured emotionally past “teacher’s pet,” she has no real depth of soul and isn’t able to understand genuine human relationships. There’s a brief moment at the end where she seems to have gained a hint of maturity, but (spoiler) it doesn’t last. It was a really compelling performance and added a lot to the show.

Sheriff Hassan (Rahul Kohli) was another strong performance, though I would have liked to see just a little more of him throughout the series. I loved his relationship with his son and the way the show dealt with the issue of religious conversion and intergenerational culture gaps, plus the irony of Hassan bringing his son to Crockett Island for safety in the context of what actually happened. I would have liked to have gotten a bit more backstory earlier in the series, because I felt like his big monologue (episode 6, I think?) tried to push too much info into too little space, but Kohli is a great actor and did an excellent job.

Riley (Zach Gilford) was probably my favorite performance. I absolutely loved him. Remorse shone through every moment, every gesture, and every word he said, and the dream images of Tara Beth were incredibly vivid and effective. I absolutely understood what he had gone through, where he was coming from emotionally, and why–after being gutted by the guilt of accidentally killing an innocent human being–he would make the choice he did rather than live through that again. The AA meetings between him and Father Paul were some of my favorite scenes. Another of my favorite characters was Joe Collie, a distorted reflection of Riley, who was also incredibly well acted (I would like to see more of Robert Longstreet).

Erin Greene, probably the main female character, was not my favorite. She was… fine… but her line delivery was a little too theatrical for me, and her big final monologue went on for WAY too long. But the actress, Kate Siegel, is apparently the director’s wife, so I guess I should get used to her if I’m going to keep watching Flanagan shows. I did love the relationship between Erin and Riley, though (from the beginning to the end). Another strong note was how Riley and his parents kept trying and and half-succeeding at reconnecting with each other throughout the story after the physical and emotional rift caused by what Riley did.

The show did have a few downsides. My main pet peeve was the lighting: though the show was set during early spring, the constant darkness and general color palette kept making me think it was October. There really is a difference between spring and autumn light, and in a series where so much of the action happens outdoors, I think that should have been taken into account. (Just looked it up and apparently it was filmed in fall because of COVID, which is understandable but unfortunate. I think it would have been better to wait a few more months.) I also felt that the last two episodes of the show were weaker than the first five (possibly because of who was missing). Overall, though, it was a really good series and I definitely recommend it.

I’d like to watch other shows and films by Mike Flanagan, but I’m worried they’ll be too scary. The Haunting of Hill House is one of my favorite books (I reread it almost every autumn), so I’m definitely interested in that adaptation. I’d also like to see The Fall of the House of Usher when it comes out, since we read that story in high school. I’d like to read The Turn of the Screw before I tackle The Haunting of Bly Manor (which is based on that book), so I’ll put that one off for a while. What spooky, creepy, pretty, and not-too-scary horror shows and movies would you recommend?

Image source here. Original blog post here.

#midnight mass #flanaverse #mike flanagan #horror #religion #vampires

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ao3feed-midnightmass · 1 year

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Hate the Sin Love the Sinner

by loraxcock God Almighty, this was going to hurt. Blessed are the meek, for he sure as Hell isn't one of them, Or, Paul fucks around and finds out. Words: 3062, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Midnight Mass (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Father Paul Hill | Monsignor John Pruitt, Angel (Midnight Mass) Relationships: Angel/Father Paul Hill | Monsignor John Pruitt Additional Tags: Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Loss of Virginity, Dom/sub, Overstimulation, Crying During Sex, Coming Untouched, Begging, Choking, Hair-pulling, Bondage, Teratophilia, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Religious Guilt, Catholicism, Blasphemy, Blood Drinking, praying during sex, Corporal Punishment, paul whimpers, paul moans, paul literally weeps, author went to catholic school, fuck bev keane, bev keane is a nosy bitch, paul is my babygirl, i want to chew on him like a wet eraser, probably too many bible verses, submissive and breedable paul, brainrot March 12, 2023 at 11:00PM Read it on Ao3 » https://archiveofourown.org/works/45705766 ✞ Don’t forget to leave kudos and comments to let the author know you enjoyed their work ✞

#ao3feed-midnightmass #midnight mass #midnight mass fanfiction #ao3 #ao3feed

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plainlo-inthemorning · 2 years

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#I hate you but I feel you Bev #midnight mass #father paul #beverly keane #monsignor john pruitt #hamish linklater #samantha sloyan #midnightmassedit

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ribcagedotpng · 2 years

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a priest and a sheriff walk into a bar.

“looks like ali is getting a new step-dad” - my girlfriend ( @starsorbets )

#genuine quote from my gf who introduced me to midnight mass in the first place #if hassan and father paul got married would that mean that sarah and ali would be step-siblings?#i hate it here #why does he always go everywhere dick first #please hassan im sobbing #hassan suffers sadly from dick too big disorder #midnight mass #father paul hill #monsignor pruitt #john pruitt #hamish linklater #rahul kohli #sheriff hassan #hassan el shabbaz #midnight mass fanart #fanart #my art #art #digital art

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ashton-slashton · 2 years

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Hello Midnight Mass fandom, care for a screenshot redraw with a twist?

#you can tell the exact moment I stopped giving a fuck (it was the chasuble)#god I hate those things...#Anyways!#midnight mass #midnight mass spoilers #father paul #john pruitt #monsignor pruitt #my art

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becksxoxo · 3 years

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I hate Bev Keane. I hope something truly unpleasant happens to her.

#midnight mass #bev keane #sheriff hassan #riley flynn #erin greene #father paul #monsignor pruitt #i hate her #hate hate hate

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scarlettscribbles · 3 years

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Savior [i]

- Msgr. John Pruitt/Father Paul Hill x Reader

← previous ✧ masterlist ✧ next →

Tags: 2k words - Fluff, Reader & Joe Collie friendship, Reader & Sheriff Hassan el-Shabbaz friendship, investigation

Tags-list: @wolfieellsworld @maximumcoffeeme

Summary: While the monsignor mourns the loss of his Angel, you begin to gather information.

a/n: just heads up ! although i am periodically consulting the series for the events, i’m taking massive creative liberties with the timeline and some details :> please enjoy !

✧ + ✧

As the sun went up over the horizon, John knew. He didn't know how but he knew.

His Angel was gone.

✧ + ✧

Your trip to mainland was uneventful. It was easy enough to feed from a city rife with desperation. Normally, you would enjoy your little excursions but something was occupying your mind.

A blood-sucking vampire was on the island. That was annoying enough on its own but it's a recently-turned one, a fledgling. Hopefully whoever it was, was still human enough to not go into a murder spree. If they were able to get here without a string of bodies trailing with them from the mainland, maybe they could be.

You rolled your shoulders, massaging the phantom pains from your newly-healed neck. This wasn't how it's supposed to go. Crockett Island was supposed to be only a boring, safe place; your little pocket of fishy heaven. You chose it for the reason that it was isolated.

You remembered the first time you set foot on the island with only a small case of clothes and a whole lot of trepidation. A dog came running to you. For a moment, you just stared at it running around you in circles and butting your legs. The dog was either a shapeshifter messing with you or it was just dumb. You couldn't sense any supernatural aura from it, so probably the latter. Ever since you were reborn, the only response you ever got from animals was fear or aggression. You didn't feed like that, not anymore; but they would always sense something unnatural about you, something dangerous. So the fact that this black bundle of energy on four paws didn't seem to share the same sentiment was curious.

"Pike! No! We don't run at strangers like that!" Joe said back then. You didn't know him so all you saw was a bearded man with greying hair and a ruffled appearance. He didn't feel like a threat. In fact, he seemed to naturally curl in on himself. "'M sorry about that. He hasn't done that since he was a pup. Had to train it outta him else the town people would get upset. Especially that Keane, always had sum'n against my Pike." he said as he tugged on the dog's leash.

You crouched down and let the dog - Pike - sniff your hand before you petted him. Warm. That was the first positive interaction you had with a live being that wasn't for the purposes of feeding and it was a dog. "It's alright." you responded tentatively. "He seems - sweet." You remembered fumbling with your vocabulary; not quite used to saying something soft. Not in a long time. For a while, your language was blood, screaming, and the odd obscenities in between.

"The sweetest really." The man put his hands on his hips, eyes twinkling in fondness. "Anyway, you're new around here. 'M guessing you just arrived?" Joe observed before he seemed to remember himself and retracted again. "I mean not to pry. 'S just that there's not many newcomers on the island so your presence is pretty noticeable."

You furrowed your brow back then, concerned. You couldn't stand out more than you already were. "Am I unwelcome?" You hated how your voice wavered. Even after running away, you still retained that distaste of vulnerability.

"'M not gonna lie to you. Some folks will be wary of you. Say, are you religious?"

Your lips almost curled back into a sneer, remembering the bitter memories that came with worship. "Not particularly."

"Ah, then I betcha Beverly Keane wouldn't be too keen on ya. She is one prejudiced bitch, pardon my language." the man clicked his tongue. "The rest of the community is less so, but it still varies. Anyway, if you need assistance you can call on me. I live in a trailer just a little bit away from everybody else. 'M an outcast myself." he smiled deprecatingly, pointing at himself. Something went through you. You thought it was something bad back then but now you realized that it wasn’t anything negative - only foreign. Acceptance.

"Hey, um. What's your name?"

"I haven't introduced myself yet? Pardon, that was rude a' me," he said. "Joe Collie, and you?"

Maybe it was the way he felt like him but less of the murder and blood and more of dog, guilt and alcohol. More human. Warm - that word again. You made eye contact as you said your name, watching the slow tell-tale purple glaze over his eyes.

"Nice to meet you Joe Collie. I'm your distant relative."

You jolted out of your reverie when the ferry slowed down. You still couldn't help but feel that small stab of guilt from using glamour on him. You had to do it. You didn't want people questioning you as much. You also didn't want to be alone, and you thought yourself selfish to want something more. Even as an outsider, you wanted to be connected. To be able to build something of your own here.

And by the heavens, you did.

In hindsight, you should've probably surmised that two people couldn't fit in the trailer so Joe asked the sheriff to house you in exchange with helping around the house and occasionally in the office. Hassan was initially reluctant but soon, you became fast friends. You also found good company with Sarah, Erin, and weirdly enough, the two kids down the road - Sean and Dana. Some people didn't like you though, just by virtue of being 'related' to Joe. But that didn't matter. You had a life here and like hell you'll let a vampire ruin it. Not again.

"How hard can it be to find them?" you mused to yourself. They should still be on the island. There's the possibility that the creature was dropped off like Crockett was some sort of nursery, but where could it have hidden? No, someone housed it. You had to ask around for any newcomers.

This should be easy. Not too many people come to the island.

✧ + ✧

You were right. Not many people came to the island. Just two, apparently. One Riley Flynn and apparently a new priest. You were debating which one was more likely to have had the misfortune of encountering the creature. You considered just flipping a coin and cornering one of them. Play pin the tail on the fucking fledgling.

You let yourself sag against the kitchen chair, petting Pike from under the table. Smart dog, already claiming prime position to ask for scraps at dinner. To your left sat Joe and across you was Ali. Hassan was at the head of the table. Somehow, this became a regular occurrence between the four of you (and Pike). You liked it. It was nice. Your little band of outsiders. Another thing you couldn't let be ruined.

"Two newbies? That's exciting." you said dryly, reaching for the plate Hassan passed you. The man slapped his son's hand when he tried to nick it. You raised a brow at Ali as you picked up your fork, giving him an amused look.

"As much excitement this island can get, I suppose." Hassan leaned back on his chair, stress evident in the line of his body.

"I could do with more excitement." Ali piped up.

"Ah, to be so young and always looking for trouble." you responded, putting a hand over your chest, mimicking the air of an old crone.

"You're not much older than me," the boy narrowed his eyes. You almost laughed. Only if he knew.

"Old enough to know what you young 'uns get up to."

"Well, only one of them is new, technically," Joe said, sipping some of his canned beer. You eyed the beverage warily. You needed to make sure he didn't have too much of it.

"I noticed the first one's surname. Is he Annie's?" you tried to pass it off as mere curiosity. You hoped you hadn't come off as too desperate for information.

"Her eldest son, yeah. Got out of the island then ended up in prison some years later, just got out. I don't know exactly what happened but he was a good kid. Good friends with Erin too." From your limited interactions with the Flynn’s, they seemed like a good sort. Annie and Ed were always welcoming and civil. You’ve talked with Warren much less than you did with them but the boy was friends with Ali and you haven’t heard anything negative yet. You also felt like Erin won’t tolerate someone awful. Despite this, you have to separate the returned son from the people you knew. You couldn’t judge him based on his associations and a lot can change in a few years.

"And the priest?"

"Father Paul Hill, I think it was. I caught some of his first mass when I passed by the church with Pike." Joe answered and took another swig. "Shame about the old monsignor though."

"What happened to him?" It was Ali who asked this time, which you were thankful for.

"Age got to 'im. Pretty sure he had dementia before fucking Keane shipped him off to Jerusalem or something." Joe shook his head, oozing distaste. "He was a good priest but he clearly wasn't alright. Apparently he got worse on the trip and 's now recovering at the mainland. Father Hill's his temp."

Something felt off about that. You weren't crossing Riley Flynn off your list but this new priest was suspicious, especially with the missing monsignor in the picture. It doesn't add up. Could he have killed the old man to get the position here and wreak havoc? If so, then the implications were more dire. That he knows what he's doing. Was he even a priest? A small part of you wants him to be guilty. A man of cloth in cahoots with an unholy creature sounds like the opening of a joke.

"When did they even get here?"

"That night of the storm, When, you know, you got stuck in the mainland even though you promised you wouldn't." Hassan intoned, and you flushed at his reprimand. Feeding took longer that day and the storm caught up to you. It didn't help that there were apparently dead cats that washed up on the shore the morning after. By the time you got home, Hassan was full with the righteous fury of a concerned dad friend.

"Yes, yes. You've already told me off." you waved, willing the embarrassment to go away. "Many times,"

Hassan gave you a hard look, his lips twitching at the edges and you scoffed. Despite the play at annoyance, you were pretty pleased that he didn't look so grim anymore. You felt a nudge from your side and you turned to Joe.

"It's Ash Wednesday tomorrow," he stated. You narrowed your eyes.

"I'm not going to mass."

"Neither am I, but there's an annual pot luck tomorrow after, so..." Joe shrugged.

"Free food?"

"Free food." he confirmed.

Also free chance to gather information on your current suspects. It's a community thing and Crockett was big on community things so they had to be there, right? A thrill of excitement went through you at the prospect. It's been so long since you were hunting anything or anyone. It was different from before, of course, but the idea of a chase, of figuring it out makes something primal thrum within your body.

You looked at Pike's head which peeked from under the table, his two front paws sitting on your thighs. "Looks like we'll be eating well tomorrow baby,"

✧ + ✧

The darkness had overtaken the sky and it took with it John's hope that his gut-feeling might be wrong. He had been praying all day, begging for another chance, for forgiveness. Did the Lord deem him unworthy anymore of an indication of His divine presence? Did He decide that the island was undeserving of the miracles?

"...my Lord, they are good people. They may stray sometimes but they are good and in need of healing..." he murmured into his fist, clutching his rosary tightly. And oh, Millie, his dearest. He hasn't given the blessing to Millie yet. How could he?

The miracle stopped before it had even begun.

✧ + ✧ [cont.]

#midnight mass #midnight mass x reader #father paul x reader #father paul hill #monsignor john pruitt #gender neutral reader #reader-insert #scarlettscribbles

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