The party was everyone one could wish it to be, glamorous, bright, musical, engaging, surely Marcel’s Pet would be enjoying the occasion. But Jennifer wasn’t here for her. It had taken some walk to get into this little soirée (almost as much work as she’d put into her outfit) and the opportunity was not one to be wasted. There were several others big fish here that she’d enjoy a chance to engage with before the need to fry them arose.
One such example being the Good Father. While she bore no ill will to her sacrifices, (quite the opposite she was giving them the ultimate gift) she had felt a certain amount of dark satisfaction at leaving Friede’s mutilated corpse on the priest’s doorstep. It seemed to have garnered a great deal more attention to her endeavours which could be a problem down the line, but she always knew it would come down to that. After all, she was only getting started.
Stil, she couldn’t help but want to wish the dear Father her best. After all he’d lost a dear friend surely, and if Jennifer had her way he’d lose many more. She’d like to see him somewhat whole before she broke him further, revenge fitting what devastation he’d caused to her fellow witches. Taking his Nephew simply hadn’t sufficed, she was yet to be mollified.
Jennifer approached the pious man with a face steeped in pity, her hands clasped before her, the posture and expression a startling contrast to her bright, white, jazzy attire. “E-excuse me, Father?” she asked, somewhat nervously, “You umm, probably don’t know me, but I just wanted to offer you my condolences. I read about what happened in the paper and it’s just…. horrific.” she swallowed, “It feels a little wrong being here when there’s monsters like that about… Well, technically I never planned on being here,” she added, in her usual somewhat ramble-like manner.
You know, I *never* buy those cute zippered pouches everyone has because I know I don’t really have a use for them. But look at this. Look at how fucking cute those little gumball eyes are. How the hell was I supposed to resist??
But my plan was really to just stop buying so many damn art prints and only get stickers since I bought a new water bottle that needs decorating. I mean…technically I *did* follow the plan, but I got way too many stickers for one water bottle. And then I caved and bought 3 tiny art prints anyways. And some more pins.
A/N:…….fucking christ. Um, I’m not religious so don’t take this literally. I have to say though, i enjoyed writing every single part of this. I got this idea from my wonderful friends on tumblr who all like science (Inside joke, those of you who aren’t in the chat wouldn’t know).
*****WARNINGS: SIN!!! PURE SIN!!!! THIS IS FUCKING SINFUL OH MY FUCK I TRULY BELONG IN HELL FOR THIS!!! LIKE BRO IF YOU’RE SUPER RELIGIOUS PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS CAUSE YALL GON BE FUCKING IN CHURCH!!!
Summary: You go to confession to spill out all of the feelings you have for your pastor, Father Jason. Turns out, you were confessing to him without realizing it. Things get heated once he confronts you about the things you want him to do to you.
It was eating you alive. These feelings, these thoughts. You never knew why you started feeling this way when you’re around him.
When you’re supposed to be praying during Sunday mass, you’d think about the different ways he would touch you inappropriately. It drove you crazy every time you go to Church. You started wearing skirts above the knees, which were considered inappropriate in the presence of God, but at this point, God wasn’t your first priority anymore.
Father Jason is the sweetest man you’ve ever met. He’s not like any other priest here in Gotham. He actually uses the church donations for charity, not for himself like the corrupted priests out there.
You felt guilty. You knew you had to do something about this guilt. Confession was your only hope. Maybe it’ll help your sinful thoughts go away.
It was your first time confessing. You sighed as you opened the doors to the empty Church. You placed your purse on one of the near by pews and made your way to the Confession box. You opened the door and sat inside in the dark, waiting for one of the Fathers to arrive. You heard Father Jason couldn’t make it in today so you took this opportunity to confess to someone else.
You looked at your surroundings. On your left was a purple heavy curtain that was going to hide your complete embarrassment.
You gulped when you heard someone open the door on the other side of the curtain. You waited for a moment but remembered the words you had to say in order to start, “Bless me Father for I have sinned.”
The Father whispered, “Go on.” You couldn’t tell who’s voice it was because of the curtain.
You felt your heart race. Was this a good idea? “I’ve been having terrible thoughts, Father.”
The silence told you to keep going, “I don’t know when it started, but all I know is that I want to be with Father Jason in ways that should damn me to Hell.”
You told the Father everything, every detail. From your filthy fantasies to the rough way you wanted Jason to treat you, “I want him to treat me like his own personal slut but I also want to be the one he loves.” When you finished you waited for the Father’s response, but nothing was said.
“Uh, Father?” Was that too much? Are you still going to Hell?
You heard him clear his throat, “You are forgiven.”
You let out a suffering sigh and said thank you through the curtain. You stepped out of the confession box and scurried to the exit, grabbing your purse as you left.
His hair is already naturally curly, but on the rare occasion that he showers and puts his hair up in a bun, he’ll take his hair down after a few hours and find that the curls have reached maximum overdrive and he looks like a poodle that stuck a fork in an electrical socket.
Has two playlists on his phone that he plays religiously. One is full of screamo/punk/emo/heavy metal bands for when he’s in his “moods”. The other has relaxing/instrumental/soft music that he saves for when he wants to sleep.
You have to look really close, but he has brown marbling in his right eye. He was teased relentlessly for it as a kid.
He doesn’t like eating in front of people, mainly because he gets a lot of flack from Larry about his eating habits and food choices. “Connor, eat something else. That looks like trash.” It was a Rice Krispy treat.
He waits until the house is empty or when everyone has gone to sleep before eating.
It’s no secret that he comes from a predominately Irish family. If his mother’s red hair and maiden name (Callaghan) didn’t give it away, the canvas painting with the Irish Blessing in the living room and a framed picture of the Murphy family crest and coat of arms in Larry’s study might have raised a few flags.
Mainly Irish, but he also has Spanish and Italian in him from his father’s side. “I’m basically a piece of white bread with the crusts on.”
It was his mother who got him into tap. She originally had him and Zoe signed up for Irish Dance lessons, but Zoe quit after a year because she wanted to learn how to play guitar instead, and Connor switched to tap because he wasn’t a fan of keeping his arms “superglued to his sides”.
Raised Irish Catholic. He went to Mass twice a week, read his Bible, went through CCD as a kid, had his First Communion, the works.
When Jared told him “May the 4th be with you” once, Connor had to bite his tongue so he immediately didn’t reply with “and with your spirit” as he used to every Sunday and Thursday at Mass.
His mother took him and Zoe to confession every week since they were five and six years old. He didn’t think much of it at first, but after he turned 10 he realized that he was making up “sins” so he would have something to say when he “confessed”.
For a whole week, he watched what he said, what he did, and next Wednesday, he made the sign of the cross and said: “Bless me, Father, for I have not sinned.”
The priest went off on Connor. Saying that he wasn’t taking it seriously, that he would be lucky if he ever made it into Heaven.