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@jjsanguine
Call me J, J Sanguine, or J Ayọ̀-Yímiká. The 2000 in my bio is my birth year.
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Ọ̀ràn Ìfẹ̌ is a short (?) story about a lonely homemaker and mother who didn't really intend to be either of those things falling for her best friend who didn't intend to fall back. I'll be updating every 3 days unless I finish the story or give up. It's on hiatus. Devlog posts are tagged matters of love.
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Thinking about Tanrak's face when Barth was trying to convince him to climb over the wall and once again breaking my own heart.
The episode epigraph seemingly positions Barth as the lost sheep and Tanrak as the shepherd, but by the end of the ep it feels more like Tanrak is the lost sheep, and Barth is the one guiding him to a real understanding of the doctrine that he regurgitates for that 10/10 in catechism tests. Barth invites him over the wall, invites him to rejoin the world. But of course he's not going to go, there's nothing for him on the other side of that wall. His parents are gone, his house got torn down and replaced with a 7-11, even his favourite tree withered and died. Everything he has now is inside those walls. He has cloistered himself inside those walls, waiting to die and reunite with his family.
It's so sad to watch Tanrak cling to a version of faith with no joy in it, that brings him no comfort. His old friends remark upon the changes in the boy they knew and call it 'grown up' but it's more like a grim resignation. The reading from Corinthians is clear that faith needs love to have meaning. But Tanrak is going through the motions of faith like a checklist, without the love that brings it to life. The flippant, facile way he tells Barth that the way to deal with desire is to just fight it is for sure a very checklist response with no sense or understanding of what either desire feels like or the battle that fighting it truly is. Tanrak's only desire since his parents died has been to join them, and that's not considered a sin. But by the end of the episode, he's in the battle of his life against his desire for Barth, and he's losing.
Does Tanrak truly have faith or is he just trying to get to heaven? I think that's one of the questions Tanrak will have to answer in this story. No matter the Church's history on this point (which, if you're not familiar with Catholicism look this up for a fun time), according to doctrine you cannot actually 'buy' your way into heaven. Preaching and praying alone is just noise (back to the Corinthians reading). I think reading the core conflict for Tanrak as choosing between Barth and the Church is the wrong expectation here. Maybe he will have to choose between Barth and the priesthood, sure. But this doesn't feel like a story about rejecting faith itself. It feels like a story about discovering what faith truly is, and where and how it fits in your life. Especially given that a signature of Aof's work is radical compassion; he doesn't do villains, and it's clear he doesn't intend to cast the Church as one here.
For a lot of lapsed and former Catholics, the primary thing that drives them away from the Church is how doctrine rejects fundamental truths about humanity and personhood, placing them under the label of 'sin'. Some lose faith altogether because of that, but some instead come to a faith that rejects doctrine and instead focuses on love, of god and our fellow man (that Corinthians reading is really a banger, great story thesis Aof). It is an evergreen joke that Catholicism is a 'cafeteria', where you can pick and choose the parts you like and build your faith from those. That is of course not the Church's position, but it is the everyday reality of many Catholics, and in practice one of the things that keeps the Church alive. Faith surpasses doctrine for a lot of people. Will it for Tanrak?
are you a “if i don’t accurately pinpoint what background character 37 is eating in this scene I might die” fic writer or a “if i have to go back and rewatch one (1) episode for basic fact-checking purposes i might die” fic writer
If you ever wondered why they call tattoos and piercings "unprofessional" and "unsophisticated"
Source: Lainey Molnar
The pilot established Barth as the definitive outsider, but Episode 2 pushes past that to ask something far more uncomfortable: What are the community's obligations toward the person who disrupts their harmony?
The Father blaming Tanrak is a massive turning point because it forces Tanrak into the role of the shepherd. Suddenly, keeping Barth on the "straight and narrow" is his burden. On a literal level, it’s just strict discipline, but symbolically, the Church has recast Barth as the lost sheep and Tanrak as the one who must retrieve him. The genius of the writing is how it subverts Luke's parable. The parable is about searching for the lost, not controlling them. By drawing a line between the Father’s version of responsibility (correction) and the Gospel’s version (pursuit and care), the episode exposes a massive hypocritical gap.
Take Barth's reaction to his punishment: "I don't know what I did wrong."
This might be the most important line in the entire episode, because look at what he's actually rejecting. He isn't fighting the punishment just because it sucks. He's rejecting the premise behind it. Psychologically, Barth is looking for meaning, but the institution is just demanding compliance. Having to write lines only works if the kid agrees they actually did something wrong. Barth doesn't. So, the whole exercise becomes purely symbolic. The school wants a confession; Barth wants an explanation. Since nobody gives him one, we get the exact same result as Episode 1: he experiences the institution as demanding total submission without a shred of understanding.
The study buddy assignment looks simple on paper: the smart student helps the struggling student.
Symbolically, it's so much richer than that. Episode 1 forced Barth into Tanrak's uniform, but Episode 2 forces Tanrak into Barth's life. The movement goes both ways now. The institution keeps trying to solve its problems by making them share a space. Ironically, it works. Just not the way the institution intended. The school is looking for academic improvement, but the story wants intimacy. And suddenly, those two goals are starting to blur together.
Why does Barth cling to Tanrak?
One thing that stands out to me is how Barth attaches himself to Tanrak almost immediately. While we might interpret that as flirting, I think there's something deeper happening first. Tanrak is the first person who consistently returns, the first person who doesn't completely reject him, and the first person who shows up repeatedly. Remember the lost sheep imagery: a lost sheep isn't looking for doctrine, it's looking for the shepherd who came back. That's exactly what Barth keeps testing. Every tease, every interruption, every invitation to break the rules, and every attempt to drag Tanrak somewhere is a variation of the same question: "Will you leave too?" And every time Tanrak follows him, lets him, helps him, studies with him, or searches for him, Barth receives the same answer: "Not yet."
The scene involving the wall and the roti (the bread) feels incredibly symbolic.
Barth wants the bread, and Tanrak refuses. But then, he boosts Barth over the wall anyway. Look at the contradiction here: Tanrak won't break the rule, but he’s willing to help Barth break it. He’s caught right between obedience and desire, which is pretty much his entire character arc so far. The wall is a huge piece of symbolism, too. Walls separate worlds. Inside the seminary, you have duty; outside, you have freedom. Tanrak doesn't cross over, but Barth does. But here's the thing: Tanrak physically helps him do it. For the first time, Tanrak's body is participating in Barth's rebellion, even if his mind is still resisting it.
All those little details in the scene really strengthen the idea that there's both communion symbolism and desire symbolism happening at the same time. The big takeaway here is that symbols in a drama rarely mean just one thing. Good visual storytelling stacks meanings on top of each other. If Barth had simply bought the roti and eaten it alone, I'd lean much more heavily toward a "forbidden fruit" interpretation. But the fact that he offers it to Tanrak changes the entire dynamic.
Christian symbolism around bread isn't really about the bread just existing. It's about it being shared. Sharing a meal creates a real bond. When Barth offers Tanrak a bite, he's doing something that perfectly mirrors what he's been doing emotionally the whole episode. It’s his way of saying, "Come over to my side." Not necessarily in a romantic way yet, but definitely relationally. The institution just assigned them as study partners, but Barth is trying to turn that assignment into a genuine connection. The roti becomes this beautiful vehicle for intimacy.
So, why does the teasing expression matter so much?
Well, Barth's teasing face is important because he's not just sharing food here, he's testing Tanrak. Throughout Episode 2, Barth constantly pokes at him. He teases him, invades his space, climbs into his bed, challenges his rules, solves his puzzle, and drags him into small acts of rebellion. The roti scene is just another version of that. It’s almost like he’s saying, "Come on. Live a little." The food itself becomes an invitation. Not just to eat, but to genuinely participate.
What's fascinating is that Tanrak almost never initiates these boundary crossings. Barth does. Tanrak resists, but then eventually yields, and this pattern repeats constantly. That's why the roti scene matters so much structurally. The question isn't just whether Tanrak wants the roti. The question is whether he'll accept something offered by Barth. And he does. It’s a small choice, but it's symbolically significant.
When Tanrak starts noticing Barth's lips while they're sharing food, that’s where the scene starts layering symbols.
On one level, it's just two boys sharing a snack. On another, it’s an awakening attraction. And on another, it’s full-on communion. These meanings aren't mutually exclusive at all. In fact, they completely reinforce each other. Food and desire have been linked in literature for thousands of years. People don't just watch what someone eats; they watch how they eat. That's usually how attraction first gets visualized on screen, when the camera turns an ordinary act into something incredibly charged.
This is also where the nod to 1 Corinthians 13 gets really clever. Tanrak excels at religious knowledge; he gets a perfect 10/10 and is the definition of an ideal seminarian. But right after that, the episode begins teaching him something he could never learn in catechism¹ class. It's not about doctrine. It's about connection, affection, desire, and actually paying attention to another person. Notice how Tanrak spends the whole episode just looking at Barth. Really looking. He’s not evaluating him, supervising him, or trying to correct him. He's just looking. That is a totally different way of relating to someone. The episode isn't even really about desire yet. It's about recognition. Because desire always follows recognition. First you truly see someone, and then you realize you can't stop seeing them.
And that's why I think the scene isn't just a straight Adam and Eve reference. Forbidden-fruit symbolism is usually all about taking, but this scene centers on an act of giving. Barth shares, and Tanrak receives. That feels much closer to the symbolism of a shared meal than a theft. I suspect the scene deliberately straddles two different symbolic worlds. On one hand, you have Adam and Eve: boundary crossing, awakening desire, and the loss of innocence. On the other, you have Communion: shared food, relationship, mutual participation, and intimacy.
The genius of this scene is that it doesn't force us to choose. The roti can be both. It’s the forbidden sweetness that awakens Tanrak's desire, and it’s the shared bread that starts to build a bond between them. That's why it lingers in the story way longer than a random snack run ever should. The roti isn't just food. It's likely the first moment in the series where Tanrak accepts something from Barth. Not because he has to, but because he actually wants to. For a character whose whole life is built on obligation, that distinction is absolutely huge.
So, why does that "bathroom stall" scene matter so much symbolically?
Let's assume he's already crossed a line inside his own head. The most fascinating part isn't the act itself, it's the timing. This happens right after Tanrak spends the whole episode trying to maintain order, discipline, and absolute control. And then, his own body interrupts that mission. Religious stories usually paint temptation as some outside force, but this episode gives us something much subtler: Tanrak realizes the conflict is actually inside him. That is a massive shift. The threat isn't Barth anymore. The threat is how he reacts to Barth. The battlefield has moved inward.
Put yourself in his shoes: this is a boy who has lived his entire life trapped in his own head and anchored by rigid structures. That's why those flashing images on screen feel like such a gut punch:
The Holy Family vs. The Lost Parents: For Tanrak, the stakes couldn't be higher. His biological family is gone, and Heaven is the only place left where they exist. If he fails to be the "perfect believer," he isn't just risking Hell, he's losing his parents all over again.
The Last Judgment & The Ticket to Heaven Painting: Flashing Michelangelo's Last Judgment alongside the show's titular painting plays out like psychological horror. The Ticket to Heaven painting shows a soul scrambling for safety while surrounded by demons waiting to tear them apart. Suddenly, Tanrak looks at that fragile stairway and realizes he's the one standing on it. And the "demon" trying to drag him down into damnation isn't some monster, it's his own growing, uncontrollable desire for Barth.
When Tanrak walks with heavy feet and a troubled face, he's not walking toward pleasure. He's walking toward his own spiritual execution. Whatever happens behind that bathroom door is a desperate surrender to a human urge, one that he genuinely fears has cost him his eternity.
The puzzle of the believer, the lover, and the lost one may be the most interesting symbolic object in the episode.
Tanrak's brain teaser explicitly names three figures, and even before it’s solved, those labels feel deeply thematic because they map surprisingly well onto the story. Tanrak represents the believer: his entire identity is built around faith and obedience. Barth represents the lost one, which is exactly how everyone in his life treats him, a role practically assigned to him by the Luke scripture. That leaves the lover as the missing category, the unknown variable, and a role neither character fully understands yet. This is what makes the puzzle so fascinating: the story itself is becoming a puzzle about identity. Who is who? Can one person occupy more than one role? Can the believer also become the lover? Can the lost one become the one who guides? The puzzle is a miniature version of the entire narrative.
Barth solving the puzzle while peeing feels almost comically symbolic.
While Tanrak approaches truth through disciplined study, Barth approaches it through pure intuition. Where Tanrak sits surrounded by books, Barth solves the problem casually. This scene subtly undermines the assumption that institutional knowledge equals wisdom. Barth repeatedly fails the system's tests, yet he constantly demonstrates profound insight. Ultimately, the episode keeps suggesting that being highly educated and being truly wise are not identical.
This is where the deeper meaning of Luke 15 comes in.
The lost sheep parable gets way more interesting when you apply it to both boys. At first glance, the roles look simple: Barth is the lost sheep, and Tanrak is the shepherd. Except, the episode completely complicates that. Barth might be lost socially, but Tanrak is lost personally. Barth knows what he wants, Tanrak doesn't. Barth struggles with belonging, while Tanrak struggles with desire. Barth is wandering outside the community, but Tanrak is wandering inside himself. So, by the end of Episode 2, I'm not convinced there's only one lost sheep anymore. I think the show is quietly suggesting there are two.
Episode 2 asks: "When someone is lost, what does love require?"
The authorities answer with correction, while Barth answers with understanding. Meanwhile, the Gospel verse answers: "Go after them." And Tanrak is slowly discovering that following Barth may change him just as much as it changes Barth. That's why the passage from Luke is such a perfect framing device. At first, it sounds like it's about saving Barth. But by the end of the episode, it looks more like Barth might be the one leading Tanrak into the very part of himself he has spent his entire life avoiding.
After all, who is actually changing here? Not Barth. Barth enters the episode already intimately acquainted with several uncomfortable truths about himself:
He knows he's angry.
He knows he's lonely.
He knows he doesn't fit in.
He knows exactly what he wants.
The person having the existential crisis is increasingly Tanrak. By the end of the episode, Barth is casually eating bread and solving riddles, while Tanrak is lying awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering why his body has suddenly become a traitor. That's not the emotional state of a shepherd confidently leading a sheep home; that's the emotional state of someone who has just discovered he might be lost, too. And that's where the Luke verse becomes so much richer. In Christian theology, the parable isn't actually about the sheep's competence. The sheep doesn't rescue itself. The story focuses entirely on the one doing the searching. What happens when the shepherd starts following the sheep?
Officially, Barth is the one being guided. But narratively, Tanrak is the one being led. That's such an elegant inversion. And then there's the Corinthians verse, which I think is doing way more heavy lifting than it initially appears to:
"If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love..."
Think about it, who in this episode speaks the language of religion most fluently? Tanrak. Who gets the perfect score? Tanrak. Who knows all the right answers? Tanrak. And yet, the verse quietly reminds us that none of that matters without love. That's a dangerous verse to drop into an episode about a seminarian developing feelings for someone. Because suddenly, the question isn't:
"Can Tanrak remain doctrinally correct?"
The real question becomes:
"Does Tanrak even understand what love actually is?"
I think the riddle might actually be my favorite detail, though.
The believer. The lover. The lost one. By the end of Episode 2, Tanrak is still the believer, and Barth is still the lost one. But Tanrak is also becoming the lover, and you could argue he's becoming lost, too. Meanwhile Barth, the guy everyone writes off as "lost," is the one who actually solves the riddle. Which is almost hilarious symbolically. The "lost" one is the one who sees the answer, and the "believer" is the one who can't stop staring at him.
Theological Context Note:
In Catholicism, the catechism covers the absolute essentials of the faith: the Creed, the Sacraments, the Moral Life, and Prayer. But passing a catechism test with a 10/10 (like Tanrak does) doesn't mean you're a saint; it just means you're good at memorizing doctrine.
That’s why the inclusion of the Corinthians verse in Episode 2 is brilliant. The Apostle Paul famously argues that knowing religious truth means nothing if you aren't living out religious love. Tanrak has the academic answers down perfectly, but the narrative asks if that's actually enough.
Meanwhile, Barth tanks the test with a 4/10, showing he’s either checked out or actively resisting the school's rigid structure. And yet, Barth is the only one wrestling with real, heavy spiritual dilemmas: exclusion, punishment, and what it actually means to belong. The show is beautifully illustrating that head-knowledge and heart-knowledge need each other. Dogma without empathy becomes cold and brittle, but raw emotion without a framework can lose its way. By forcing them together as study partners, Tanrak might be teaching Barth the textbook definitions of God, but Barth is teaching Tanrak the actual meaning of love.
Tanrak is currently the "resounding gong" (all correct sound, but no substance) and Barth is forcing him to find the substance.
Tumblr actively hunts down and deletes legit trans womens blogs as a policy but encourages and cultivates porn bots that use stolen trans sex worker's content. This is propaganda and affects how we're viewed by other users, makes our own tags unusable for us, is unfathomably transmisogynistic, and reveals a lot about how staff views us. Our bodies are a commodity that they want on their website, but our words are not welcome.
when Barth was like hey I figured out the riddle and Tanrak startled I was like what did he have to check Barth was really there and it wasn't another one of his gay dreams lol. And then the rest of the episode lent more evidence to the idea Tanrak has Barth focused dreams just constantly
digging that tanrak doesn't dislike Barth remorselessly flouting the rules. Being catholic and the class captain that's got to be almost as big a deal with regard to "I guess I can't fight that I want this person" as Barth being a boy
love it when characters do a sacrifice play ostensibly to save others but mostly so they don't have to face themselves
TICKET TO HEAVEN | 1.02
It's nuts how common it is to not allow children to be angry, even (especially) in households where adults are angry all the time. As a child I knew my own anger was unacceptable--not just expressing it outwardly but feeling it at all. So now as an adult my immediate reaction to my own anger is often to feel guilt instead of like. Noticing when someone is being rude or unfair or my boundaries are being violated or whatever. fucked up.
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i'm constantly blown away by Fourth's acting and Ticket to Heaven is proving that to me.
Those last 10 minutes of such an intense war inside yourself of lust, guilt, yearning, shame....to be able to portray that with absolutely no dialogue so effectively and in a way that is so evocative....I've literally been speechless about it since the episode ended.
I have some minor qualms about the editing of the show (likely due to the episode count as well as me watching on Youtube), but that entire segment of Tanrak at the end gives me a lot of hope that they know how to give the important moments time to breathe. P'aof and the entire team did their big one with that last scene especially, and I think the show from here will only get better.
And you are as bad as him, calm the fuck down, put the guilt down
Imagine getting done for trying to be kind and doing nothing wrong,,, but facing no repercussions for sneaking out, shirking punishment, and masturbation which would be a sin even if it was for straight reasons. Brother Tanrak it's a sign. You're on the right path lmao
