Waywardd_1
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The masturbatory confessions had become rather par for the course, for Jud, enough so that he could tune them out with regularity. On a particular Sunday, however, four months before the murder, Jud had stared blankly at the man across from him, fingers twitching halfway into fists, a twisting, nervous feeling making its home in his gut. Monsignor Wicks had been grinning widely at him, eyes narrowed in some sort of taunt, goading him.
“What,” Jud had said, voice pitchy, “did you just say?”
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or, Wicks doesn't just stick to stories of masturbationBookmarked by Waywardd_1
02 Feb 2026
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Wicks sweeps Jud’s legs out from under him with three words. “Take my confession,” he says.
Bookmarked by Waywardd_1
02 Feb 2026
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Jud is in a state of shock following Martha's death. Benoit gets him home and ensures he's taken care of.
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02 Feb 2026
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“Road to Damascus,” Blanc says, tone businesslike.
“Gethsemane,” Jud replies.
Or: Jud has a bad time of it and shows up unannounced at Blanc's house.
Bookmarked by Waywardd_1
02 Feb 2026
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His first mistake is not picking up the phone.
In Jud’s defense, it’s been a long fucking day. And not one that he’s keen to recount.
He’s kept the damn thing turned off for most of the day. As a rule, he stays fairly available on Sundays, but—well, extenuating circumstances call for extreme reactions. Thankfully, he had kept enough of his head after Mass to force a shutdown instead of what he wanted to do, which was to hurl it against the wall and watch it shatter into a million tiny pieces.
Night is young, though.
Or: A Wicks truther comes after Jud in the middle of Mass. He's fine. Benoit disagrees.
Bookmarked by Waywardd_1
02 Feb 2026