#this is a catholic priest and his relationship to god

[austin-friars]

I like writing my religiously traumatized gay boys.

[artblueminecraftorchid]

Miracles Unbound

Acrylic on canvas

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 5

Kurt Wagner + Uniform Kink

Priest Kurt :3 Also talks of religious trauma.I know religious imagery hates to see me comin. Readers a visible mutant, inspired somewhat by Killer croc. Readers 8ft tall.

I know very little about catholic priests, the area I grew up was Lutheran. This also takes place at some point on Krakoa. This ended up being more story driven honestly, but I had fun writing it anyways. Not proofread, because I cant be bothered.

Kinktober 2024 masterlist

You had a strained relationship with religion, even if your entire family had been true to the faith. You may have been too, years ago, before your mutation manifested. Back when you had been nothing but their darling son, their gift from whatever god they worshipped, after so many years of trying. The gift just seemed giving, as your parents had more kids after you, giving you siblings.

You didn’t have many good memories with them. You got to hold the first two that were born, even play with them, but then your mutation started. It started out as patches of dry skin, something that could be treated with thick ointments and long baths. They’d thought it was a skin disease back then, and it had been winter, so it was all blamed on the dry weather.

It was harder to deny when the scales started appearing, and when you woke up to your gums bleeding from your new teeth growing in. your sobbing had awoken your mother, who had screamed bloody murder when she saw you. There weren’t many memories of that night, or the next couple of years at that. The human mind worked in strange ways, and yours decided to supress that part of your childhood.

All you remembered were flashes of coldness, of being locked away in what could only have been the basement. Of the churches priests and whoever else they thought might “cure” you of your “disease”. You remembered your father yelling about what he must have done wrong to gain a demon like you as his child. You remembered the quiet whispers in the kitchen at night, that you only were able to hear because of your enchanted senses.

You remember how your mother whispered to your aunt, that this was her fault. That you were the result of an affair, so this had to be God punishing her for her sins. You heard how more siblings were born, how they were told to stay away from the basement no matter what, and punished hard if they even went near it. There wasn’t much entertainment down there, your so-called parents only leaving you with religious texts and whatever else they thought might “save” you.

There was no want inside you to get out, even after what must have been years. Your mutation meant you barely needed to eat, to drink, or sleep. Most of your time was simply spent, listening to your family. Because of that, you learned the same things your siblings did because they needed help with homework, or you got to keep up with the news on the radio. You had accepted it.

It was only when one of your youngest siblings discovered you that it all crumbled. She was young, as small as you had been the day your dry skin started appearing. You knew her name, having heard your mother sing her praises because she had always wanted a daughter. And she wasn’t afraid of you. She spoke to you, sitting with her knees tucked under her chin, telling you about mass, about how God would love you anyways, even if you looked different, because he loved everyone.

But the good never lasts, and she was discovered by your not so shared father, and she was punished. Her screaming awoke something deep and feral inside you, a hatred you had never tapped into. Something that had you tearing your chains like they were made of sugar, your claws drawing deep gouges in the walls as you wrenched your way upstairs. The door split like paper under your giant clawed, scaley hand, the hand of a monster, a demon.

The noise you let out was like that of the demons of hell, something deep, snarling and terrifying. Your mother and fathers’ eyes widened in terror, your brothers, the two you got to hold, were terrified. The siblings that never knew you existed wet themselves or started crying in terror. And your sister. Your sweet. kind sister, was a curled-up bleeding ball on the floor, and yet she still smiled at you.

None of the family dared move as you picked her up, she was so small she fit in one of your giant clawed hands. You had never realized how big you were, but as you stared down at your parents with such hatred, it truly sank in. your father who had always seemed so big, as if he were God himself, trembled like a leaf because of you.

They didn’t stop you as you left, tearing the front door of its hinges with nothing but a small nudge, leaving it split in two in the front yard. It was night, and it was one of those white picket fence neighbourhoods, where you preached Gods love, but ignored how the neighbour beat their children bloody.

Having your sister die in your arms was what broke you, for a long time. You weren’t older than 20 at the time, you at least thought that was your age. And yet, you stood taller than any human man, broader and strong enough to tear buildings apart. And still you couldn’t save her. you wanted to rampage, to kill and destroy everyone and everything. But you knew your sister loved this place, even after they mistreated her so. So in the end you buried her somewhere nice, and left.

The brotherhood of mutants wasn’t a choice you thought much about taking. You were no hero, and by the time you learned about the x-men, there was already way too much blood on your hands and in your teeth. That was where you met Kurt, on the battlefield. At that point he was just an enemy, someone you could turn that deep burning rage against. Feed that blood thirsty demon in your chest, to make it quiet for a little while once more.

It took you years to learn more than that they were enemies, the x-men. Your pain must have been written on your face from the very start, even The Wolverine seemed to have a semblance of worry for you. But you didn’t care, you just needed to hurt somebody, and it was easy to run in the direction you were given and lose yourself to your demons.

There were times you would pray, times when you were alone and hurting more than normal. But it never felt like God answered. And why would he. You were a monster put on this earth to punish your mother for her sins, her very sins woven deep into your very being and fuelling you.

At some point you left the brotherhood. Even that wasn’t enough anymore to quiet your demons and pain. It had been years at that point, and Nightcrawler was still just an enemy who’d grown from a small annoying pipsqueak to a slightly bigger but even more annoying pipsqueak. That very furry blue elf had a knack for finding you, wherever you went.

Most of the time you assumed he wanted to fight, but Nightcrawler, Kurt, would just sit by you in his own contemplating silence. At times he talked, other times he was silent. Sometimes he sat close beside you, sometimes meters away. Him talking about his faith made your heart race, but knowing he too experienced pain because of his appearance helped, somewhat.

Time still passed, you still weren’t a good person. The x-men and mutant-kind settled down on Krakoa. You did not, at least not for a long time. You had settled down far away from everything, somewhere with a nice deep lake where you could sink to the bottom, and imagine you were in purgatory because you never thought you would go to heaven.

Of all people to drag you to Krakoa, you had never imagined it would be The Wolverine, Logan. He gave some big spiel about hating yourself ruining it all for you, trust him, he knew. At that point in your life, you didn’t care much, nothing mattered and everything was just a blur, the demon in your chest dormant and worthless.

Krakoa was nice, people even treated you kindly even after your time with the brotherhood. Your suffering must have been so obvious for them to just accept you with such open arms, thinking about it made you cringe. Kurt was still nice. He was older, had the starts of a moustache, and the garb of a priest.

Seeing the outfit made your pupils sharpen and your heart lurch, some deeply ingrained animal reaction. Hearing about the faith he ran, smoothed down some of your sharp scales, something that yes, had its roots in Catholicism, but was so much more accepting and kinder. The thought of being part of it made your mouth sour, but there was also no pressure from anywhere to join.

You and Kurt grew closer, over time. It was a slow and careful path, all your relationships on this island were. But Kurt was special, in the way he smiled, the way he smelled, the way you became so comfortable in his presence that he could sit on your shoulders. And the way you both grew so close, that it didn’t even fell like sin when he kissed you.

Kissing Kurt must have been what Adam and Eve felt when biting the apple, tempted by the snake to break the one rule they were given to follow. And yet, like Adam and Eve, you broke that rule anyways. Kurts’s fur wasn’t long, but it was soft to the touch, some areas longer than others and carrying a natural curl. The scent of sulphur and the incense he would use in his thurible, became what put the demon inside you to rest, for good.

And maybe Kurt was pavloving you a little. It wasn’t on purpose, you think. He would simply regularly wear his priest outfit, his alb, his chasuble, his stole and amice. And he would kiss you and taste like ambrosia, like something worth sinning for. Kurt would smell and taste so divine, and would touch you so lovingly. At times you were scared to touch, fearing you would hurt him too, but even then, Kurt taught you to trust yourself.

So, who could you truly blame for getting heated, whenever you got to watch Kurt dress himself. You didn’t have a tail like he did, but you did bury yourself in your giant shared bed and rumble deep in your chest like the reptile you shared features with. It seemed so sinful and sensual, even if it truly wasn’t his intention. To see how carefully Kurt draped fabric over his body, or how his tail would flick and make the light fabrics flutter. It made a whole never demon inside you yearn.

You didn’t want to dirty his outfit, shaming yourself for even thinking it. How sinful, how evil, how demonic. But it was yet another thing you sucked at hiding, to the point where the other x-men, your friends now, started making jokes that you churred whenever Kurt would flutter by in it.

You denied it, of course, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true. And that didn’t mean Kurt hadn’t planned out how to give you what you both wanted. Which was how you found yourself laying back against your many pillows, Kurt in nothing but his alb and prayer beads in your lap, his three fingered hands against your chest.

It still felt so terrifying to indulge in those wants, even as you dug your claws into the bed as Kurt so slowly rode you, his hips moving at a pace that had your toes curling. Anything he did would have most likely had that reaction, but his soft accented voice cooing loving words at you, only served to leave you feeling more melted on the insides.

It was embarrassing how fast you finished. But who could blame you. You never had much experience, hell, you could count on two hands how many times you had ever touched yourself. It was no surprise you would cum so quickly, Kurts’s tail thrashing from side to side as he was filled more than he imagined possible.

His kisses were still just as sweet, as he worked himself over the edge too, dirtying his alb and your scaley stomach. This moment, Kurts’s act of dirtying his uniform himself, seemed to have been the only sign you needed, after that it was free game. He was the apple and the snake at the same time, packaged in blue fur and yellow eyes, his tail curling in coy ways only you knew how to read.

Kurt could never hate it, instead almost preening with pride as you finally let yourself indulge. Fucking him on the altar was a fantasy he had carried for a while, and when you finally did it the blue furred mutant almost passed out from how hard he finished, having to dig his fangs into his stole to keep from wailing at the intensity.

You would never step foot back into religion again, never to the extent where you could call yourself someone of faith, and Kurt would never force you. But you did end up going to Kurts services, on rare occasions, but that was more because you were excited for what would happen afterwards, after everyone else left. There was a demon in your chest, born from your family’s sins, fed by your own and nurtured to destroy. But Kurt tamed it, brushed its fur and held it close. There was a demon, and it was his.

[bushwskq]

Father Charlie Mayhew x witch!reader

cw: 18+

PART 1

PART 2

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So what should I say? Well this is my first fanfic on Tumblr and English is not my first language. Thanks Google Translate. This one-shot came from a girl in great need of Nicholas Chavez, I kindly ask that you please forgive the mistakes. As soon as I can I will write the second part with more about Father Charlie, this is just the introduction...

I wrote it listening to Tear You Apart and Seven Wonders

Thank you for your attention!

You thought you had everything under control when you moved to this small town. Away from family or acquaintances that you had no desire to see again with a comfortable home decorated in your own special way. You were given the title of exotic by the residents of the place, they didn't seem like they would throw you into the fire like the witches of Salem but you knew that some were afraid of you even if you didn't show magic in public.

Your always black clothes didn't go unnoticed although no one ever said anything directly to you, you wore extravagant necklaces from time to time but what you kept around your neck was often a pentagram and a cross that reflected every movement you made. Walking calmly with a lit cigarette between your fingers, you observed the crowd of people entering the city's main church. You weren't able to determine which audience that place attracted because they ranged from children to old women marked by time.

For a moment you considered going into the crowd, it had been so long since you stepped foot in a Catholic place and memories of your childhood flashed through your mind. You weren't going home anytime soon, there was nothing stopping you from getting in other than your mind. You knew that sermons about sin wouldn't make you change your beliefs, you found help by practicing witchcraft (or what people called the practices you practiced) your relationship with magic was something different from anything you knew and you felt welcomed worshiping their own gods.

You remembered your first mentor, she taught you the basis of everything you know, helping you deal with your complicated feelings during this process. Respect although resentment about the religions that condemned your existence was always present in you. Taking a deep breath while looking around, you crossed the street towards the church without thinking. You stubbed out your cigarette on the sidewalk then took a deep breath until you walked up the stairs.

The church was big, the first thing you thought of was the large tithe they earned on the faithful. You looked for a pew, sitting down at the end then a few minutes later the mass started, it was everything the way you remembered it. Except for one thing.

The priest was too handsome to be a priest, you thought, the man must have been a few years older than you. His hair was perfectly combed back to highlight his chiseled face, his jaw clenched as he waited to speak. You quickly realized that the young women didn't come just because of the Lord's word. The mass continued while the pentagram on your chest weighed as if saying you were in the wrong place, the priest's firm voice walked through the church with its hoarse timbre. You would definitely be lying if you said you weren't attracted to the man.

“What’s his name?” You shyly asked a nun sitting in the front seat. “Fa-father Charlie Mayhew.” The woman responded with a small smile before turning her attention to the lectern. You thanked him politely as you stared at the man, you knew his name now. Father Charlie Mayhew You recited in your mind as the mass continued.

You couldn't take your eyes off that pretty face, in disbelief that someone so young had chosen this vocation. You didn't hear anything until he spoke then it stopped again like a cycle, even with the clothes on you could tell that his body was defined as the outline of his muscles could still be seen. Then he looked at you, you thought about avoiding it but it was too late. Caught like a naughty child doing something he shouldn't, you kept looking until he looked away. You smiled internally.

The hours passed towards the end of the celebration, many people headed towards the exit but not you. Never going with the flow of things you began to explore the church, observing the colorful stained glass windows and the pattern of lit candles. In your peripheral vision you saw Father Charlie talking to a couple, his voice was relaxed although he still maintained his posture.

You stopped at another stained glass window, your eyes attentive to the details. “You’re new here, aren’t you?” Father Charlie asked standing next to you, you could smell him and it almost made you fall over. “The church is not used to a new face.” He said, his clear voice leaving you quiet for a moment before he began “I recently moved to the city, Father. In fact, this is the first church I’ve been to in a long time.” His voice doesn't show shame like other people do when they talk to Charlie.

Sometimes intimidated by the man's posture or beauty.“I'm glad to hear that.” you could see the sincerity in his words although he tried to hide something. “Know that the church is open to welcome you, dear.” Charlie approached, turning his face to him: “God has ways of rescuing his lost children to salvation. No matter what circumstance.”

His gaze dropped to your chest where the pentagram rested somewhat hidden by your clothes. His heavy hand touched the necklace with a little force. “The confessional is open on Wednesdays. If you are interested, I will be waiting for you.” He left without looking back, leaving you uneasy as you watched him.

[kevjeanyves]

i just got here (and by that i mean i binged the whole show while studying for finals between november and december), but buddie can’t NOT go canon. not at this point. not with everything they’ve set up

bucks canonically bisexual. that’s a massive key component. the queerBAIT is now lying entirely on eddie’s shoulders. and in terms of bucks storyline, the horrible guy he dated was given a barebones personality…that resembles eddie (military, likes sports, had a serious relationship with a woman). almost every trait they gave That Guy resembles eddie (except eddie isn’t racist). they did that on purpose. buck, bothered, bewildered, bisexual or whatever it’s called was so centred on bucks relationship with eddie

plus the whole confessions “i’m not your last” moment, only for the LAST shot of that episode to be buck and eddie sitting side by side. confessions as a whole is such insane proof of impending buddie canon too…the whole focus on eddie finding joy, on eddie’s catholic guilt and guilt in general, on eddie not wanting to See himself both figuratively and literally because he’s scared of what he’ll find…josh’s speech applying to eddie but making no sense regarding that Other Guy (the glee thing made no sense regardless)

and THAT focus is so obviously pointing towards eddie being gay. eddie’s entire everything has always pointed towards him being gay, i can’t lie, but it’s getting so much more obvious. they’ve reached a point where nothing about eddie’s personal arc or journey makes any fucking sense UNLESS he’s gay, and every storyline is making it more obvious that they’ve realized it

his catholic guilt being brought up. not wanting to be intimate with a woman who represents god in his mind. sex, god, and shame all coming together in that episode, AND bobby bringing up that eddie does this thing in relationships where he makes excuses instead of examining how he really feels towards them…now im sure bobby doesn’t know eddie’s gay, but it invites the audience and eddie to examine his past behaviour towards female romantic partners. and every single thing about that priest/juice scene in confessions. catholicism guilt tied into sexuality again (“uh…n-no offence…i-im straight” to a priest like cmon)

and speaking of past relationships, eddie’s grief is at the forefront of his storyline too now. his main most pressing storyline being chris’s running away. eddie’s grief and complicated emotions towards shannon have always been something he struggles with, and in s7 we learn that chris has complicated feelings around his mom too. and at the end of s7…well. what a stupid fucking storyline, but grief is the driving force of the chasm between eddie and chris. this addresses the most important romantic relationship eddie had with a woman (obviously shannon), and hopefully the relationship he has with his son, and both of those people are excuses eddie might be making in his own head to justify not even questioning his sexuality. eddie and shannon had chris when they were teenagers, eddie’s been a dad literally his entire adult life. does he know he can be gay if he’s been married? if he has a kid? does he know he’s allowed to even question his own sexuality? it’s probably what michael felt, but more complicated

AND michael stayed with athena thinking she could “fix” him. eddie said in s7 that he thinks he’s broken and can’t be fixed, to a woman he’d been unadvisedly pursuing, a woman who looked just like his own wife…

then, the “you think being a cheerleader makes your son weak?” storyline. cheerleading is seen as feminine and there are a lot of stereotypes about male cheerleaders and feminine men. both cheerleading and being gay are seen as feminine. the cheerleader called eddie “dad” and hen pointed out to chim that it his emergency is difficult for eddie because he misses his own kid AND the conversation with the cheerleaders dad where he relates it to his own current situation, which connects the storyline to eddie and chris. but the “you think [stereotypically feminine thing] makes your son weak?” brings eddie and ramon to mind. because eddie was raised to be hypermasculine and Not Weak, never weak. what would ramon think if eddie comes out as gay?

and, finally, the focus on eddie finding joy. on eddie doing any introspection at all. on eddie Seeing himself and understanding himself and being kinder to himself. on eddie realizing he deserves to be happy. on eddie realizing he doesn’t have to hide behind his (ridiculously adorable) moustache, that he doesn’t have to hide who he is

s7 was for bi buck. s8 is for gay eddie AND likely for buddie. eddie’s currently trying to see Himself and make amends with his past (and because that went badly, making amends with chris…the child he sorta partially legally gave to buck, in a way…). buck’s trying to not lose hope over the future, wondering who’ll be the last to love him (or wondering if he’s loveable at all). eddie’s true self AND bucks endgame are called into question at the same time…now maybe i just got here But

[hug-me-hard-so-i-dont-forget-you]

Plot points I hope to see in season 8b/9

(this is long because the writers have a lot to make up for)

• Airport scene

• Eddie gives Buck his St. Christopher necklace

• Buck's coping mechanism of briefly turning into slutty Buck 1.0 after Eddie leaves. Only this time it's with guys that resemble Eddie but he doesn't notice. Maddie does. And she wishes desperately that she wasn't pregnant so she could drink

• Buck actually uses the word bisexual or bi to describe himself

• Finally getting to see Eddie's sisters. And maybe while he's in Texas he facetimes Buck and they come into frame. And in true little sister fashion, they embarrass him: "Oh, Edmundo! Is this the Buck we keep hearing about? He IS cute!"

"I never said that!"

Buck: "...you don't think I'm cute? 🥺"

• Maddie, Sofia, and Adrianna meeting and bonding over their dumbass brothers

• Everyone else finds out that Buck is in Eddie's will and they all just stand there, mouths agape cuz how THE FUCK do they not know they're in love?? Everyone else can see it!

• Buck tells literally everyone at the 118 about his feelings for Eddie because he needs advice. And Chim makes a joke like,

"He already has everyone crushing on him! Why can't someone have a crush on me for once??"

"...dude, you're my brother-in-law."

"So?? We don't have to tell Maddie!"

• Buck admits his feelings but Eddie ends up not leaving so Buck avoids him out of embarrassment like jk pranked ya!

• Buck NDE because I NEED to see Eddie lose his shit

• Or they both have a close call and later have a serious 'spousal' discussion about what would happen to Chris if they both died. And then they share a moment of comradery, trash talking Helena & Ramon and hoping they never get custody again

• Speaking of Shitty Parents 2.0 (Shitty Parents 1.0 being the Buckley's) we need more screen time hating on Helena. Ramon got multiple scenes showing how awful he is and Eddie calling him out on it. But Helena is a selfish woman that keeps trying to manipulate Eddie into giving her Chris. And even when Eddie tries to keep in contact with his son while he's in Texas she just brushes him off and doesn't try to get Chris to talk to him. All because she got her way so she doesn't care, pushing Eddie further into his pit of self-hatred. And for that she must be punished

• Eddie talking to Bobby about his Catholic guilt in relation to his sexuality. And then going to Michael for advice about the transition of believing he's straight and having a heterosexual marriage and family to where he is now. The 3 of them need to go on a fishing trip or something. They'd have it all sorted out within the weekend

• Eddie and Maddie having ANY kind of interaction on screen. The writers know that if they teamed up they'd be besties instantly and they're keeping that from us!

• Chris needing dating advice but as soon as his dad tries to help he cuts him off like: "Not from you, you're obviously gay and all of your straight relationships sunk like the Titanic. But thanks anyway. Hey Buck!"

"Wtf? His relationships weren't great either!"

• Eddie having more discussions with Hot Priest™️ about his guilt and he just smiles fondly at Eddie, "I don't know about you, but my god doesn't judge. Not when someone lives their truth. I think you're more afraid of your family's judgement. If I were you, I'd go back and think of every time I thought God was judging me and consider the possibility that I was putting Him in place of my parental figures." and Eddie just blue screens for many minutes as Hot Priest™️ patiently waits for him to catch up as if he hadn't just changed his entire fucking life

• A scene where either Hot Priest™️ or Bobby or Buck asks him: "Would you judge Christopher if he questioned his sexuality?" "What? No." "Would you tell him to go to confessional or try to pray it away?" "Of course not!" "Would you ever discourage him to be anything less than who he truly is? Or stop him from doing something that makes him happy?" "No!" "Then why do it to yourself? Why set that example? Even if it turns out your parents or Abuela aren't comfortable with you exploring your sexuality, you can always do better than them. Break the cycle for the one person who matters most to you. Be happy, be yourself, be what you want to be, not what others expect from you. And I know you, you won't do it for you. So do it for Christopher. Show him that it's okay, great even, to be you."

• Josh getting all giddy while talking to Eddie like he did when Buck asked for gay dating advice

• Eddie talking to Hen and Karen about how they coped with their foster kids leaving. Like, how do wake up every morning to a quieter house and empty bedrooms, knowing the breakfast table is going to be lonely? They exchange bittersweet looks and hug him

I will accept no less than 80% of this becoming canon. Thank you and good night.

[heavenlymorals]

This started out as a list for me for fanfiction purposes, but then I decided I should just post it cuz why the hell not?

These are my observations for what religions some RDR characters may follow. These assumptions are going to be based off cultural details and dialogue.

Again, they're only assumptions, so I'm very much aware that they can be wrong.

Dutch: Dutch is really interesting in the sense that he believes in a higher power. The three main components of Romantacism were the relationship between man and man, man and nature, and man and god. Dutch is a romantic. He also has many lines where he talks about heaven, with one being: "Be a man who knows that there is a heaven above or scurry off like some god forsaken monkeys." We know Dutch isn't Catholic considering his negative views towards Catholicism ("Here we are in this strange land of Papists and rapists."), so he is most likely from some sort of protestant background who then rejected it for the romantic tradition as many of the newspapers in RDR1 would say things about Dutch not getting saved. John says the same thing. Dutch is a diest but not a Christian.

Hosea: Hosea is some sort of protestant Christian and we get this through cultural background and dialogue. We learn that when he was younger, he wanted to be a priest but let go of that because he needed to be Catholic. America was and still is a majority protestant nation but even moreso back then. We also hear him talk about heaven and hell a couple of times, lamenting about how when he does, he won't see Bessie because she'll be in heaven. He is angry at his faith, yes, with the line of "And we're supposed to believe in judgement" when ranting about Bessie's death, but then apologizes, admitting that he can't understand it, not that he doesn't believe.

Arthur is agnostic, but he's open to the idea of faith. In one of this journal entries, he says something about whether he can achieve salvation or heaven or whether that's all fairy tales, as he's not sure what to believe when he dies, even though to the nun, he says he doesn't believe in anything. Arthur also seems to have a distaste for the church as an organization, evidenced by his dialogue with the grave digger debtor, but he seems to like religious people, or at the very least he is open to them. He never knocks down Brother Dorkins and he feels at peace when he speaks to the nun in their final meeting at the train station. Very interesting that he feels better after he talks to the nun, a character who is supposed to embody positive religion and what it can do for people.

John is a non practicing Christian, which makes sense considering his background and the work he has to put in to keep his family safe. It keeps him from actively practicing. Though he's a realist and isn't practically concerned about religion in his everyday life, shown by his father dismissive attitude towards religious people in the game, God is still an active force in his life. Throughout the story, John has lines about God as an active force in his life. When he marries Abigail, he says he wants to marry her "in front of God." A preacher authenticates the wedding. John owns a Bible in his house, makes references about Dutch not getting saved, and talks to Jack about the possibility of redemption as something the "good book" says, despite not reading it with him.

Abigail seems to also be a more practicing Christian, given that she does ask Jack a couple of times throughout the story to read verses for her, but beyond that, I feel like she is also pretty lukewarm in regards to her faith, but she is still a Christian.

Sean and Javier are all most likely cultural Catholics. Sean is an Irish man and is proud of his Irish heritage, which also includes Irish Catholicism and he mentions being a child of God a couple times throughout background dialogue. Javier is a Mexican man and Mexico is very Catholic and though he doesn't really speak of it, he has done the symbol of the cross in game, so it's likely that he still holds some religious thoughts.

Molly is most likely an Irish Protestant due to her conflicts with Sean as well as her family's connections with the English.

Charles is tricky because we know that despite being proud of his native heritage, he is still very much displaced from his culture. What this means is that while he might follow native religion, it equally as likely that he follows some sort of protestantism because of his lack of time with his tribe, forced assimilation, and his relationship with his black father, who would culturally most likely be a Christian. There are really no clues or hints about Charles' beliefs besides his cultural backgrounds so take that as you will.

Micah is a reddit atheist. He doesn't believe in divinity at all and he uses that to shape his worldview as well. No such thing as heaven and hell, only winners and losers. He bullies Swanson a lot for his faith and constantly belittles the idea of religion.

Karen, Tilly, Marybeth, Grimshaw, Pearson, Lenny, Leopald, Josiah, and Kieran don't really have any clues as to what they personally believe. The only idea that we have is the setting that they lived in and the culture that they frequented which makes it most likely that they are some sort of Christian, but what denomination? Don't know.

Sadie is a Christian, but most likely non practicing. We have multiple lines with her referencing God as an active force. "Everyone's got to choose who they're loyal to. God, the state, themselves. If a bounty hunter wants to last, his loyalty has got to be with the one issuing the bounty, plain and simple." "Guess he began to believe he was God or something."

Uncle is nonreligious, most likely agnostic due to his very lax tone in regards to faith, which is also evidenced by his rather wild lifestyle in multiple stories of his. "Do you believe in reincarnation?" "I hope and pray to whatever is out there-" "It's like rooming with the King James Bible."

Swanson is a protestant. Need I say more?

I'll post more later if I feel like it 🫶🏼

[urhoneycombwitch]

shrine of your lights

Eddie Munson x fwb!Reader edibles and a church wedding to attend. what could go wrong with Eddie as your plus one? 

foreword: I listened to Say You Love Me by Fleetwood Mac for this. LOL. kind of AU bc it’s a few years after ssn 4 and everyone is alive and just fine (lovesick but oh well can’t b helped) based on this anon thank u for inspiring me!!!!

cw: a smidge of Catholic blasphemy, weed usage, friends w/ benefits Eddie, R is a bit of a love (and relationship) skeptic and Eddie is lovesick, R+E are in their 20’s, pining, public sex (no one but them observes tho), R has hair long enough to tuck behind ears, R gets a hickey but skin tone/color is not described, R has breasts and a V, softdom Eddie, marking kink (?)

wc: 4.8k

___

The stained glass window in front of you looms tall, afternoon light streaming through and casting a kaleidoscope of colors on the polished wood flooring. You stretch out a hand into the warm beam of sun, admiring the way the colors catch and bounce off your dainty star-chain bracelet.

When Eddie had suggested you two eat some weed brownies as a precursor to your (very distant, very Catholic) cousin’s wedding, you hadn’t quite expected to get as stoned as you are now. Since Eddie hasn’t attended any major life functions sober since 1981, and seeing as how you refuse to step foot inside a church space without some sort of social lubricant, the weed wasn’t a hard sell at all. 

To be fair, Eddie had warned you of their potency, and you had snuck another quarter of a brownie when his back was turned: but christ, your tolerance must be crazy low or something, ‘cuz a window has no right to be this mesmerizing. 

You’ve been staring at it for the past five minutes, in your own little world while a steady stream of wedding guests file in through the big oak doors and mill about before the ceremony. The warm, still air of the church is heady with the smell of fresh florals and incense, and a line of votive candles flicker and wink against the windowsill.

Casting a glance over your shoulder, you see Eddie’s still speaking in gentle tones with an elderly woman (whom you’re likely related to, hard to say) near the foyer, all charming smile and sincere hand pressed to the slip of bare chest his button-down displays. You’ve got to hand it to the guy, he’s really great at endearing himself to total strangers; he’s been a natural shoe-in for any plus-one you’ve needed over the past few years.

While Eddie is perfectly in his element, holding what looks to be an engaging conversation while stoned to all hell, your focus is drawn back to the window. You should probably be on the arm of your guest, seeing as how it’s your family wedding after all, but the swirling lights and colors are too alluring to pull yourself away from.

“Beautiful piece of art, isn’t it?”

The voice behind you is unfamiliar, and proper social graces here would call for an introduction, perhaps a firm handshake, but your limbs and tongue feel so loose and the reply is out of your mouth before you can think twice- “God, yeah. S’fucking gorgeous. I want one for my house.”

There’s a light cough, and when you turn on your low-heeled Mary Janes it’s under the amused eye of a priest- in full priest-garb. Green velvet robes and little hat and everything.

You realize your error- swearing and taking the Lord’s name in vain- but the brief stint in Catholic school from when you were 6 is unfortunately not recalled in time to stop the scramble of swears mixed with apologies that come tumbling out. 

“Oh shit- I mean- fuck. Oh god. Sorry, Father, I didn’t mean-”

The priest- old as hell but thankfully with sense of humor still intact- smiles kindly at you and takes your hand in both of his, patting graciously. “No apologies are necessary, my dear. The beauty of God can be overwhelming and awe-inducing.”

You nod jerkily, grabbing on to his excuse- “Yes, yep. That’s exactly what happened. Struck down by the awe.”

The priest nods to you, and then to Eddie (who’s appeared at your side like a guard dog that sensed trouble), then wanders off down a row of pews to greet other guests.

You’re nearly doubled over with the effort it takes to conceal your laughter, Eddie stroking a calming hand down your back and chuckling with you under his breath. 

“Struck down by the awe, huh?” he echoes as you straighten back up and dab at the tears gathering against your lashline. “You really are somethin’.”

“That was so embarrassing but guess what-” here you lean in, voice a conspiratorial whisper as Eddie raises his eyebrows to look down his nose at you- “I don’t give a fuck ‘cuz I’m hi-igh.”

This last word is sung with a two-note lilt, and you turn back to the comfort of the sunny window as Eddie steps in beside you, shaking his head. “I told you to start with a lower dose, ya goose. Did you take more when I wasn’t looking?”

You shrug a shoulder, the soft linen of your cardigan brushing up against the hard leather of Eddie’s jacket. “Maybe. Couldn’t say. You gonna steal this window for me or what?”

He blows out a breath, pretending to appraise the size and heft, rapping his ringed knuckles against the sill- “Well normally I’d say ‘anything for my girl’, but we’d need a shrink ray for this type’a heist.”

“Maybe Dustin has one we can borrow.”

He sucks his front teeth, playing along, shaking his head in faux-disappointment. “Nah, little shit’s only got a ham radio. Useless when it comes to religious robbery.”

Eddie looks overly pleased when you giggle, but some of the humor in his face falls to concern as he reaches out to squeeze your upper arms. “Hey. You doin’ okay? If you’re too stoned to sit through the ceremony, I can find us a little spot to hole up in. I’m good at finding those.”

“I know you are,” you reply, waving away his worry. “I’m fine, honest. Do I look high?”

He holds you at arm’s length, giving you a contemplative once-over. “Nope. You look beautiful.”

You roll your eyes, affectionately, then smooth your palms over the front of your black slip dress and pull the scalloped sleeves of your cardigan into place. “Well, of that I am aware.”

Eddie winks, and you really wish you were sober enough that the warmth of his hands and the smell of his cologne would have less of an effect but high as you are, you want nothing more than to burrow into his neck and taste the salt of his skin. 

“Do I look high?” he asks, pulling away to do a little spin so you can appraise his appearance. 

Eddie Munson, as it turns out, cleans up very well for family functions: smart black boots, maroon button-down tucked into a pair of flare-legged trousers, worn but well-kept leather jacket to top the outfit off. And in signature Eddie fashion, little glints of silver highlight the ensemble- his usual chunky rings, stacked layers of thin chain necklaces, metal buckles on his coat and at his waist, even a set of tiny hoops (courtesy of your jewelry drawer) in his ears. 

The dryness in your mouth has nothing to do with your intoxication as you blink back to the present and give Eddie a once-over. “Uhm. Nope. You look sober. And very hot.”

He grins at you, wolfish, but then a bright chord of organ music signals the start of the ceremony. With a steady hand on your back, he leads you to a pew near the last row; when you’re both seated, his hand runs smoothly down to rest on your thigh, drumming a lazy beat with his thumb against you as the processional starts. 

Your cousin Marion looks lovely swathed in white tulle, contrasted with her groom in a black tux. Her mother, your aunt- Karen? Karina? can’t recall- dabs at her tears with a delicate lace handkerchief in the front pew as the couple exchanges vows, promising eternal and ineffable love until their ultimate demise, etcetera. 

You’re not someone who’s ever fallen prone to the gushy emotions that love seems to create in so many of your peers. While Nancy and Robin will dole out tissues to each other during some cheesy romcom, you’ll get ribbed for being so stoic. None of your breakups have ever ended in giant blowouts or dramatics from your side- hard to fight for something when you hadn’t really cared about it in the first place. 

That’s why you consider yourself so lucky, when it comes to Eddie. After the two of you ended your high school fling due to graduation, you’d come back to Hawkins after a few years of college and found yourself sneaking out like a teenager again to hang out with Eddie Munson. 

He told you he doesn’t want anything serious, either, and that he’s just fine being friends who sleep around and go to all of each other’s parties.

You almost believe him. 

He’s been to every one of your nephew’s hockey games this past season, and you’ve spent two cozy Christmases so far at the trailer with him and Wayne; every party in between has ended with Eddie driving you home, or (more frequently) back to his place. Your collective relatives and friends haven’t asked about your relationship status in years, and it’s all thanks to Eddie’s presence in your life: if the two of you aren’t technically dating, it’s really no one’s business. 

The old priest from earlier is droning on about some bible verse; uncomfortable on the hard bench and feeling restless, you shift your hips, and Eddie digs his fingers into the meat of your thigh.

“Quit. Squirming,” he murmurs, lips at your ear. When you shiver and still, he pats your leg and straightens again, eyes fixed to the front altar.

You and Eddie make it through the ceremony with minimal damage, only getting one dirty look from an older man in the pew ahead when you’d snickered at a dirty joke (courtesy of your benchmate). Marion and her new husband greet their guests one by one as everyone filters outside, and you coast easily through the interaction, kissing your cousin on both cheeks and fawning over her dress and giving just the right amount of congrats before Eddie plucks at your elbow to subtly redirect your attention. 

“Let’s get some food in you,” he says, linking your arms together as you follow the receiving line outdoors.

The reception is held just next to the church building in a surprisingly lovely courtyard. Sunlight filters through the willow trees at the edge of a grass yard, where a picnic basket awaits on each spread quilt. People are kicking off their dress shoes, unwinding with the lure of nature, kids chasing each other through the paths between blankets as adults wiggle their toes into the grass and dig into the luncheon.

Possibly, you’re high and over-romanticizing, but you can tell by the look on Eddie’s face he’s there with you, taking it all in from your blanket in a quiet corner of the yard. 

There are finger sandwiches in the basket, along with some fresh fruit and plastic utensils and plates to eat off of; Eddie fixes you a plate and you dig in happily, sock feet tucked under yourself, yours and Eddie’s shoes in a jumble nearby. 

“Could eat anything when I’m high,” you muse, then bite into a sandwich that has the perfect cream-cheese-to-cucumber ratio with a contented sigh. “Food is so good.”

Eddie snaps a baby carrot with his back teeth, then snorts at you before reaching out to tuck one side of your hair behind your ear before it gets eaten along with your food. “I know you can eat anything when you’re high. I once saw you scooping up apple pie with potato chips.”

You give him a sidelong frown, mouth full of bread and veg as you defend yourself- “Yeah, and it was great. Dee-licious. Would do it again if-”

Your name is being called, and you swivel to see a young man about your age weaving along the spaces between blankets towards yours and Eddie’s spot.

“Tony!” In a neat bit of multitasking, you manage to swallow your food and rise to your feet (albeit unsteadily, with Eddie’s hand snapping out to support your efforts), then hold your arms out to envelop the boy in a hug. “Oh my god, it’s been ages.”

Anthony Townsend has grown up in the time you’ve spent away- the last recollection you have of your former childhood neighbor is his mop of red hair bouncing with the trampoline his parents bought him in 6th grade. He grew into his looks, for sure- the awkwardness of pre-teen ears and too-big front teeth have settled into a very kind and handsome face.

He looks genuinely pleased to see you, returning your hug with a squeeze, pulling back to hold both your hands and ask about where you’ve been. You breeze through a highlighted version of the last few years, leaving out all the interdimensional monster bullshit and focusing the questions back on him.

Tony’s telling you about his father’s veterinary practice that’s still running smoothly when you feel Eddie at your back, and Tony falters, dropping your hands.

Social cues come a tad slow to you, under the influence, and you think Tony’s stumbling because you haven’t introduced him yet (how were you supposed to know Eddie’s been glaring daggers at the poor kid ever since you’d hugged him?), and you attempt to remedy your mistake with a casual remark- “You know, Eddie here has been feeding the stray cats at our place every night, a whole colony of them- there’s gotta be, what, ten of ‘em now?”

You turn to Eddie for confirmation, reeling a little at the dark scowl he’s still sporting as he nods. “Yup. Somethin’ like.”

Tony scratches at the back of his neck, freckled cheeks pink as he begins to back away- “Um, yeah. Cool. Well it was great to see you! I gotta…”

With a vague gesture, he turns and tails it back to his blanket on the other side of the yard. You whirl on Eddie, his face smoothing back into relaxed indifference, even as you hiss, “What the hell was that?”

Eddie shrugs. “Don’t know what you mean, princess.”

“That,” you repeat, waving an arm in the air for emphasis. “I know I’m not sober but you were being weird, even by my standards.” 

There’s this look that Eddie gets, sometimes, when one of you bumps against the walls of your loosely-defined relationship- a brief flash of pain and sadness before it gets hidden away behind his comfortable mask of bravado.

He’s got it now- a small pinch in his eyebrows, doey eyes swimming with emotion, and you put a hand on his leather-clad arm as the pieces fall into place. “Were you… are you jealous?”

In the span of a blink, the mask is back up, and with a dry laugh that’s so unlike him, Eddie shakes his head. “Nah. What do I have to be jealous of, huh? ‘S not like we belong to each other.”

Maybe on a different day, with half the weed in your system, you’d be able to let this comment slide. But there’s something deeply hurtful about it, sinking and twisting in your stomach like a stone. Your grip tightens on Eddie’s arm, tears stinging hot at your eyes, voice a watery, desperate thing- “Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.”

Eddie is quick to comfort you, once he realizes you’re close to crying- “Shit, sweetheart. Okay. You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to think…” Your voice is still shaky with emotion as Eddie lets you hold on to him, gently shushing you even though there’s no one near enough to hear. “You’re important to me, Eddie. I never wanna make you mad, or upset, or-”

“I’m not.” Eddie cuts smoothly into your rambling, placing his hands on either side of your neck as you cling to him, cool rings kissing into your skin. “I’m not mad, promise. I was just being an asshole for no reason, okay? Could never be mad at you.”

His thumb strokes at the column of your throat, your breath and heart rate lulled to normal under his touch, his expression returning to the gentle fondness you’re used to seeing.

“Let’s finish up lunch, hm?” Eddie says, and with a final soft squeeze he pulls away from you, taking with him the warmth of his palms.  

It’s always like this, with him, at least in front of your respective families- any PDA is kept to a strict minimum, nothing too intimate or drawn out so as not to attract attention. You’d implemented this rule from the beginning, and Eddie has been nothing but respectful of it, your peace of mind over not wanting a label pacified.

But right now? The lack of Eddie’s arms around you or his lips on yours was starting to make you ache. 

You both settle into the blanket again, conversation flowing around mouthfuls of food as you catch Eddie up with the latest family gossip, laughing when he bats your pointer finger out of the air (as if anyone is really paying attention to you two giggling loons). 

Someone’s brought a radio and has it dialed to a soft rock station; you gasp and shove at Eddie (sprawled out like a house cat after a full meal in the sun), exclaiming “It’s Fleetwood Mac and you love Fleetwood Mac!”

“I so don’t,” he grumbles, but rises easily when you tug at him to stand sock-to-sock feet with you in the grass. 

You both fall into a smooth rhythm, Eddie’s hands staying (respectably) on your hips, yours looped around his neck, doing a slow little rotation. He gazes at you as you sway back and forth in each other’s arms, the scrutiny making you titter and fidget.

“What?”

“Thought I told you to quit squirmin’,' ' comes his answer, hands tightening into the meat of your waist. “Let me look at you a minute.”

So you let him look. 

While his chocolate eyes roam your face, you trail a hand up to curl a lock of his hair around your finger. Eddie leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut, giving you room to do some staring of your own at those long, dark lashes. 

After another slow circle, Eddie inhales and draws himself back, clearing his throat. “Not that I’m not enjoying this, sweetheart, but we’re gonna start getting looks if you don’t quit using me as your personal stress toy.”

You snort. “You’re right. Sorry.”

“All good,” he replies, dimples springing into his cheeks, teasing again- “When we get home later you can pet me like a dog, if you want. Just gotta tone you down ‘cuz you get touchy when you’re high.”

Eddie’s being a perfect gentleman. He’s sticking to your rules and looking out for you.

So why is it making you so sad?

You realize, with a stunning clarity, that you don’t want to wait until you’re back at the trailer to touch Eddie. That you’re starting to crave him when he leaves, whether it’s for a day or an hour or just out of bed to get a snack. 

Fuck it, you think, and bend to scoop up your shoes. 

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” you tell Eddie, slipping on your shoes then starting towards the building. When you realize he’s not following, you pause, giving him a look over your shoulder- “Aren’t you coming?”

Eddie blinks, wondering if you’re insinuating what he thinks you’re insinuating or if he’s just really, really high. “Um. Uh…”

You don’t leave room for the shock to sink in, turning on your heel and smirking when you hear him swear under his breath and scramble to catch up. 

In a narrow hallway lined with portraits of long-dead saints, you push Eddie against the wall, mouth sealing over his and hands roaming hungrily over his body.

“Fuck,” he gasps out, in between kisses, your fingers tugging at the root of his hair, near the nape of his neck where it stings the best- “what’s got you so worked up, princess?”

“You.” The answer is an honest one. You slip your tongue between Eddie’s teeth and the boy moans, melting into you.

Peppering kisses down Eddie’s face, your lips settle into the hollow just under his jaw, then part to give room to your teeth. Eddie stiffens as you bite down, sensitive skin pierced by your mouth; it’s his turn to be the squirmy one as you suck a bruise into that soft spot. 

His cock is filling out, as proved by the steadily-growing bulge behind his zipper. You give a mean little wiggle of your hips and Eddie jolts so hard you lose your spot on his neck, popping off him with a wet smack.

“Angel, you have to stop.” Eddie sounds absolutely wrecked as he tries to maintain some distance, head tipped back to stare at the popcorn ceiling. “M’not gonna last if you keep doing that. Let me take you home, we can-”

“Shhh.” You quiet him with a pointer finger smooshed against his lips, your other hand tilted to your ear. “You hear that?”

Eddie strains to hear distant cheers and hip hip hoorays from the festivities a few corridors away; when he nods, you whisper, “That’s the cake cutting. We have a good ten minutes before anyone thinks to come back here.”

At first, Eddie thinks he’s off the hook when you release him completely, walking swiftly towards the main sanctuary. But then, because you’re a temptress, you beckon him with an impatient wave.

And because he’s so easy for you, he follows.

It’s like that window has a magnetic pull- you’re back under the prismatic glow of the stained glass, brushing a hand across the wide sill to dust it before hopping up to perch there. You fit neatly between the split row of votive candles (all snuffed out by now), enough room for your knees to part and for Eddie to fill the space. 

You cross your arms around his neck, drawing him in with another deep kiss as his hands find your waist.

“Want you to mark me up,” you murmur, and when Eddie draws back, wary, you let your chin tip up. The crown of your head knocks into the window, exposing your throat. “Show them I’m yours, Eds.”

Only have to tell him twice, apparently, ‘cuz his teeth sink into your stretch of soft skin without further qualms. The feeling of his tongue soothing over the sore spot makes you jump, hips bucking forward into his hand that you didn’t even notice had trailed up the inside of your dress.

His long fingers pet at the wet patch that’s seeping through your underwear, catching at your clit on an upstroke, your gasp a harsh noise in the otherwise silent sanctuary.

Eddie begins to rub at you through the fabric in earnest now, tight circles with his thumb even as he pulls his mouth from your neck to assess his handiwork. “Yeah, fuck, sweetheart, that’s gonna leave a mark. You want everyone to know who you belong to, huh?”

Your bundle of nerves throbs under Eddie’s touch and you curse, hands weaving tight into his hair again. “Shit, Eddie, yeah- just like that…”

He dips back into the well of your neck with his teeth, keeps just the right amount of pressure on your clit, and that tension coiling in your lower stomach is just about to snap before you stop him with a hand around his wrist.

“Sorry,” you pant through the apology, forehead crushed to Eddie’s collarbone as you try and catch your breath. “Was about to come and I want you inside of me for that.”

“Jesus fucking christ.”

Eddie fumbles with his belt buckles as you giggle, chastising- “Hush and mind your manners, Munson. That’s blaspheming and we’re about to fuck in a church.”

“I’ll show you manners.” Eddie has his pants and briefs shoved to mid-thigh before you can draw breath to tell him off; one hand smears precum down the shaft of his ruddy cock as the other pushes your dress up and hooks your panties to the side. 

You’re wet and worked up enough that he slides into the heat of you with ease, breath punching out with the way his cock completely fills you. When Eddie pulls out and sinks back in, you let out a keening whine and scrabble for purchase on his leather jacket. 

“That’s it, sweetheart, that’s it-” his voice is a dark rumble, each word punctuated with a snap of his hips, the squelch of your slick walls responding. “So wet for me. That’s my good girl. You like gettin’ off to being mine, huh, angel?”

You nod, head lolling against the window, and Eddie grins wicked even though you can’t see it. “Come on. Show me whose pussy this is.”

When his hand snakes between your bodies to press against your clit with his thumb, you come with a long, strained whimper, ankles crossing at the small of Eddie’s back to draw him closer while the velvet walls of your cunt spasm. 

Eddie’s free hand shoots out to the supporting wood arch of the window for stability as he angles his hips up, longing for that glossy honey-eyed look you get sometimes: and there it is, your eyes half-lidded and brow pinched in pleasure as his cock hits against that gummy spot, the tremble of your thighs locked around his waist as your orgasm peaks. 

Once he’s fucked you through the height of it, Eddie dips to bite at the taut muscle where your neck and shoulder meet, clamping down on the words threatening to flood out as his hips stutter. He comes hard, deep groan muffled into your neck, curses and praises spilling out in mindless babbling: “Fuck fuck, angel, that’s it, honey, shit, you’re so wet. All for me, huh, baby? Doin’ so good…”

He sags into your arms, pinning you to the window, chests heaving in tandem as you both catch your breath. You stroke a hand down his back, towards his ass, and then to the edge of his pants.

When he realizes that you’re trying to tuck him back into his clothes he whines at you, but you’re quick to shush him. “We’re cuttin’ it close with timing already, Eds. Help me out?”

Reluctantly, Eddie pulls away from the wet warmth of you to re-dress. Once his belt is in place he attends to you, helping shift the hem of your dress back down, rubbing his finger lightly under the skin of your eye where some mascara had smudged.

“I’ll double back for the keys and we’ll go home, ‘kay?” Eddie says, nose nudging into your cheek. “Wait here. You got some wicked marks and everyone will know we just fucked.”

“Pfft. No they won’t. Who would actually fuck in a church?” You push Eddie back playfully, hopping down from the sill with a wink. “You’ve gotta be sick to do that. Good thing my family believes you to be a perfect goody-two-shoes.”

Eddie stares as you make for the doors back to the courtyard, shrugging off his incredulity- “Eddie. It’s fine. So they’ll think we made out a bit. Who cares? Not me. And plus…” here you trail off and point, mischievous, Eddie’s eye’s following the line to his sock feet- “...you kinda have a no-shoes situation goin’ on. Gotta fix that.”

When you disappear through the doors, Eddie slams a palm to his chest, in awe- then feels the outline of the lighter in his inner pocket. With a practiced twist, he has it out and lit in a second, holding the flame to the wick of a votive candle.

“I don’t know how these candles work, exactly, or if atheists are allowed to…” Eddie clears his throat, glances over his shoulder to confirm you’re still out of earshot, then whispers above the flickering light: “Please let this be real life and not just some high-fueled fantasy because this is kind of huge for me. Okay thanks. Amen, or whatever.”

Eddie blows out the candle like it’s a birthday wish then hurries to catch up with you, sock feet silent against the wood floor as he calls out your name- “Slow down and have a heart, babe, I’ve got no grip!”

[r-r-raf]

I love love love your fic

And I think him leaving priesthood is absolutely the best choice decision he could make, I felt an unexpected amount of joy and relief over it. I think Oscar is someone trying very hard to be good, and I think it's clear he's had a positive impact on the community. But there's just. Soooo much There. He has too much on him, to the point where. Him remaining a priest feels like it's unfair to the people who rely on him for his guidance. Which!!! Wonderfully illustrated by his whole deal with Parker <3 that was so fucked up I loved reading it <3

I love the fic so much in general I am spinning it in my brain at all times

I feel you should know that I've been thinking about your depiction of Oscar in To Put the World Between Us a very normal amount and yelling about it to my partner

oh my gosh thank you ahhh

I'm glad you like how I'm handling him here, I was worried about how people would feel about him leaving the priesthood but i thought for the context of this fic it was kinda the only way for him to even approach being happy one day

and thanks for reading, I'm glad you enjoy the parker-oscar dynamic

[catholic-character-tournament]

Round 1 - Side B

firestar art by @kudos-si-do

Propaganda below ⬇️

Kirei

He fucked up so many people's lives so badly in just one decade (not on purpose) that the universe put him in the summoning pool of all world influencing souls. He doesnt really have any special powers but he does serve as a vessel for rasputin at one point. He's the guy who says "people die when they are killed"

please please please there's literally a type moon character in the gif on the top of this form so it's typemoonphobic if none of them get in but it shouldn't be her it should be kirei bc he's 50x funnier & more iconic than jeanne. funny lil murder priest who's fucking THE gilgamesh (from the epic of) in the church basement and dies in a knife fight w a 17 year old whose dad he wanted to fuck back in '94 before realizing that he was actually kinda lame and he's been bitter abt it ever since. he has an orphan torture factory in his basement but he's also canonically good at being a priest. he's so funny you should def try his mapo tofu i swear it's totally safe for human consumption and not made with any california reapers. did i mention he's a deadbeat dad.

Priest claims to be Pro Life to make Sakura Matou the most miserable girl on the planet, but he dies anyway.

bro became a catholic because he loves suffering

He’s a priest. Kind of. Not a very good priest obviously. There is something seriously wrong and fucked up with that man. It’s so entertaining.

he's gotta be one of the most insane catholic men ever with a very in-depth and interesting relationship with his religion and his relationship with god also he's the sexiest man ever to be conceptualized in the known universe and all of time

Will never forget the 40+ minute monologue in heavens feel being a thinly veiled metaphor for abortion

he wants to torment churchgoers and make them face their failures and suffering but all he ends up doing is motivate them to improve themselves. cringefail moment for him

he's absolutely insane. the coldhearted mercenary that barely reacts to anything is terrified of kirei. he's super fucked up. his ult in stay night is literally him channeling divine power into something called kyrie eleison. he's the vessel of rasputin (on account of being a priest with a huge....no i shant say) the biblical beast in grand order among other things. he gets drunk with and tops gilgamesh from the epic of gilgamesh in the church basement after gilgamesh from the epic of gilgamesh bats his eyes a little too hard at kirei in some of the horniest shot scenes ive ever seen. he also used to be a heretical "fixer" for the church, cleaning up scenes that would expose shit to the public. uhh what else. he holds cool swords between his fingers like a kid pretending to be wolverine but in my favorite route he just squares the hell up with the protagonist and they fight to the death outside planned parenthood

Firestar

Kitty jesus, he believes in starclan which is the kitty version of heaven/god and yea. All the warrior cats characters except those outside the clans or those that are atheist believe in the kitty heaven and would irl be bri-ish and christian as hell so. The authors are all older british christian women and so the way starclan is written is like undoubtedly that.

The main religion in the series is extremely catholic coded. Most clan cats believe in Starclan and the Dark Forest(or heaven and hell). There is a set of rule they must uphold and follow, where following them leads to heaven and breaking them leads to hell. Their religious leaders are sworn to celibacy, and the punishments that "code breakers"(or cats who break the rules) face are extremely similar to situations people with religious trauma have gone through.

OP notes: apparently converted to avoid getting his balls cut?? Idk. The discord yet wild for firestar so I had to include him because it's hilarious hehehe

[nthspecialll]

do you think many members of dutch’s gang were religious? was dutch even religious?

There are some characters that we cant tell other than "oh they grew up in this place in this age" but there are also some where we know their religions! I am quickly going to go over them but HeavenlyMorals made a really good post on this which I recommend looking at!

Dutch is not a catholic, he verbally talks about his dislikes for them, meaning he probably grew up protestant, however he does act more in romantisism, which is based on the relationship between man, god and nature.

Hosea is protestant. He talks about wanting to become a priest however he gave up on it because he needed to be a catholic and he wasn't fond of that idea. He talks about heaven and salvation and about his relationship with god being rocky due to Bessie's death.

Arthur is agnostic. He is open to the idea of faith, talking about whether or not he can get salvation however he tells the nun he does not believe in anything at all. That said, he dislikes the church but not the people. He doesnt really care what people believe in, he respects it, but he hates how the church takes and takes.

John is a non-practicing christian. He makes reference to god, like marrying Abigail in front of her, Dutch not being saved and so on, but he is rather passive when it comes to religion itself and is rather realistic.

Abigail is a praciticing Christian. She asks Jack to read verses for her.

Sean is likely cultual catholic. He talks about being a Child Of God, and is proud of his irish heritage which is known for catholis.

Javier is too cultural catholic. He doesn't speak of it but he makes the cross sign.

Molly is probably a protestant due to her troubles with Sean.

Micah is atheist. He uses himself as a god, he bullies Swanson for being religious and talks it down.

Sadie is christian, though not practicing. She mentions god as a force but doesn't practice.

Swanson is protestant, though he has swayed a little. He talks about how "maybe catholics are right" when he is completely down and doubting in chapter 2.

These are very shortly explaining, but I REALLY recommend the post above!!

[satorusluver]

35 + Suguru for the smut prompt thing if there's still room? Pls and thank u 🙏

Suguru Geto + cockwarming

Minors DNI

Tags/warnings: fem reader, religion kink, unprotected sex, established relationship, cockwarming (obviously)

Word count: 1,050 ish (lil longer than a drabble but 🤷‍♀️)

A/N: Anon requested cockwarming but I threw in Priest!Geto as a bonus lol. I've heard certain types of Christians don't consider cockwarming actual sex (Mormons, I think?), bc they believe you have actually move for it to count. Dunno if it's actually true, and yes I know priests are Catholic and not Mormon, but it's smut, guys.

Priest Suguru Geto who's so desperate for your sweet little cunt, but he's also desperate to maintain some semblance of his purity. He loves you, even if he shouldn't. And he lusts for you, which he definitely shouldn't. But twenty-seven years without being intimate with anyone could drive any red-blooded man mad, even a man of God. He can't help but want to experience being inside of a woman -no, not just a woman, being inside of you.

It's his duty as a priest to save his virginity and keep his promise of purity to God, but it doesn't count if he doesn't move, right? Or at least that's how his wayward friend Satoru tried to justify it, saying that it doesn't really count as sex if there's no actual thrusting. If you just get to feel a woman's warmth around your cock without actually doing anything about it. Suguru didn't really buy that, at least not until he met you, fell in love, and became so hopelessly, helplessly, sinfully desperate to be intimate with you.

So it doesn't count if you just sit on his lap and slowly lower yourself onto his cock, his breath hitching in his throat at the feeling of your wet warmth enveloping him...

Or at least that's what he tells himself.

God, you're even tighter than he imagined you'd be. His eyes roll back in his head and a shiver runs through his entire body when he feels himself bottom out. His hands grip the arms of the chair he's sitting in so hard his knuckles turn white at the feeling of his swollen, needy tip pressing gently against the entrance to your womb and your gummy walls clinging to his hard length like you never want to let him go.

"Fuuuck," Suguru groans under his breath as he adjusts to this new, intoxicating feeling. "...sorry, that was unbecoming of a priest," he adds with an embarrassed chuckle.

"And this isn't?" you ask, raising an eyebrow as your inner muscles squeeze around him, and if he thought you were tight before, now you're gripping him like a vice.

"Fuck!" he swears again, his eyes screwing shut and his hands clenching and unclenching as he tries to bring himself back down from the high that's threatening to overtake him already. "D-don't do that, angel, or I m-might..."

Angel. He always calls you his angel. He swears you must be a gift from God, with your ethereal features and kind heart. So how can an angel be so tempting? How can an angel make him want to do the most unholy things, things only married couples should do?

"You're right though, we probably shouldn't be doing this. B-but I don't think I could pull out now if I tried. Does it feel good for you, angel?" Suguru asks sweetly, reaching up to brush your hair out your face with a shaky hand.

"So good, Sugu..." you whisper, meeting his dark eyes with your own. He really does fill you up just right, and you can feel the head of him rubbing up against that sweet spot deep inside of you. You want so badly to move, to grind against him and bring you both the pleasure that you crave. But you know your priest's limits, so your hips stay still. You do, however, lean your head down to kiss him, and you're taken aback when one of his long fingers meets your lips instead.

"If we start making out now, I'm gonna lose all self-control. Can we just stay like this?" Suguru asks in a low, pleading voice. "I just wanna be close to you like this..." he murmurs, burying his face in the crook of your neck with a soft groan.

So you sit there for what feels like an eternity, trying not to think too hard about the way his fat cock is plugging you up and stretching you out, trying not to think too hard about how much you want to move your hips and feel every ridge and vein of his member dragging along your walls, which ache with the need for more stimulation that this is giving you.

You're getting wetter by the minute too, coating his cock in your sticky arousal so much it's dripping down the part of it that can't fit inside you due to his generous length. Every now and then you shift on top of him, adjusting your position a bit and savoring the slight friction it causes. Suguru clearly loves it too, hissing out a strained moan through clenched teeth and squeezing your sides a tad harder at your every minor movement.

"You're gonna be the death of me," he chokes out when you tighten around him again, almost involuntarily as your body craves more of him.

"Sorry, can't help it...we can stop if you want?" you ask softly, your eyes taking in his almost pained expression as he tries to hold himself back. Your hands come up to run your fingers through his long, dark hair in a comforting way.

"N-no, I'm fine..." But he doesn't look fine. He looks like he's holding himself back with every fiber of his being, and he is. He's so close to saying fuck it all and thrusting up into you anyway. After all, this has gotta be at least a half-sin, just being inside you. But he's convinced himself that his self-restraint counts for something, so he keeps still no matter how much his cock throbs and his body screams at him to move inside of you.

"You're just so warm. I mean, I figured you would be, but...just this feeling, you around me. You feel so amazing, angel, and I'm not even moving. If this is what it's like to be with a woman....no wonder men give into temptation."

If Suguru is being honest with himself, eventually he probably will too. Maybe not this time. But he's not sure either of you could take this sweet torture forever. Sinners deserve nothing but an eternity in hell, it's true. And yet...your beautiful eyes gazing down at him, filled with love and lust for him? Every flutter of your tight pussy around his hard, throbbing cock? Every breathy whimper and sigh that slips from your pretty mouth at the slightest shift of your hips? It all has Suguru beginning to think you might just be worth eternal damnation after all.

[all-pacas]

random and very specific chase headcanons i will insist on secretly working into all my stories:

chase and his sister don't look much alike. not in a "they're not related" way, just he takes after their mother and she takes after their dad, lookswise: there's not a deep symbolic meaning for this, they just… don't look alike.

chase never considered himself a Rich Kid growing up, because yes, the big huge house and dad's fancy cars, but he went to one of those very fancy private schools where like. his best friend's father owned oil fields. his friends had superyachts. he was the poor kid in that school, which in turn greatly skewed his own self perception of his family money.

the novelty did wear off but he enjoyed searching people's houses at first, because he'd get to creep on people's houses and belongings and learn about poor people and normal people hobbies and just observe. like an anthropologist. chase wants desperately to Be Normal and has the sinking suspicion he isn't, but also doesn't realize how boring he truly is. (he comes from a Mental Health Is For Other People family)

he has fucked men and he does consider himself heterosexual. his sexuality is a rotisserie chicken of repression and catholicism and "if i don't look at it it will go away." he knows what bisexuality is he just truly believes it doesn't apply.

the reason he worked NICU to earn extra money was a) he actually did kind of mean it when he said he needed a break, but for chase a break is overworking myself and not sleeping because then i simply have no energy to think, and also his sister needed money for rehab. again. and she was cut out of dad's will too.

they talk maybe once a year, but chase has a huge guilt complex about his sister and whenever she asks him for anything (money) he just throws it at her. to her credit, she has only done this once or twice ever. he actually wishes she'd do it more, because then she'd need him, and he could be useful to her (in a way that didn't involve talking to her).

he has a fairly high alcohol tolerance, but is also very good at coming off completely sober even when he's totally drunk, which makes it seem like he has a superhuman alcohol tolerance.

chase has very specific rules for himself and drinking, because children of alcoholics is a constant mantra in his head, but he does still drink. part of it is just a… cultural/social thing, part of it is absolute self flagellation. for a long time the rule was don't drink at home, never drink alone, but after his divorce he started to drink more - at home, alone, whatever - in a sort of rotating self flagellation sort of mess of: what if i did.

cameron was absolutely his first serious relationship.

he genuinely liked and was close with his priest, his teachers in catholic school, he has never had any brushes with Catholic Church scandals, it was the one place in his childhood chase genuinely did find adults who cared about him. however, he does not go to church as an adult. maybe once a year or if he's very, very stressed. it's almost more of a nostalgic thing than a prayer thing. he feels safe in church. he lights candles for his parents and dibala and tries to convince himself he believes in it.

he still believes in god and does absolutely believe he's going to hell. so why not enjoy his life and sleep around and do whatever while he's still alive, you know? enjoy the time you have left because all you can look forward to in death is eternal torment and suffering!!

he thinks, incorrectly, that he can do a pretty good american accent when he tries

[loveanddeepspice]

𝕋𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕖

✞ synopsis:  you've come back to the small town you grew up in for a visit. though your relationship with the catholic church and faith in general have been strained since you were younger, you find yourself drawn back to the church... or more specifically... the new priest... you aren't ready to share your secret sin with him... but you may not be able to help yourself.

✞ pairing: sylus x curvy fem!reader

✞ rating:  18+ (minors do not engage)

✞ cw:  religion (catholicism), priest, lapsed faith, adultery, priest kink, suicidal mention, dead parent, sex, masturbation, drugs (marijuana), drinking (more will be added when/if they arise)

✞ disclaimer: this fiction explores a romantic relationship between a lapsed Catholic and an unconventional priest. it is not designed to be inflammatory or critical. catholic authors were asked to participate in the process. we hope you enjoy it, but we know that these topics can be sensitive, so please skip this fiction if it will in any way offend you.

✞ chapter:  1 / ?

✞ co-authors:  redbriony, confuseddoughnut (they do not have tumblr)

✞ ao3 link:  here Please respond to this post if you want to be added to the tag list for upates!

The crisp smell of autumn was something you missed about the small neighborhood you grew up in. Pieces of golden yellow, burnt orange, and honey-brown leaves scattered over the gray cobblestone walk, making it look like a beautiful quilt. The street felt warm as afternoon crept up to greet you after a whole morning of heavy grocery shopping and last-minute errands.

And…your dad needed to go to confession.

You didn't have an understanding relationship with religion. You felt tense as you stood in front of the church from your childhood, a relatively small building with arched windows that probably had more than one glass shard smashed by a local kid.

"How is Father Thomas anyway?" You found yourself asking. The memory of your mother on her deathbed flooded your head. Your mom had her problems, and she was stricken with her faith even in her dying moments. And when you had asked the priest if she could be saved, he had reassured you that she was already in the arms of God. 

"Why is he taking her?" You had asked, feeling powerless and exhausted, hugging yourself tightly in an attempt to hold back all of the anxiety and sadness.

Father Thomas had given you, at the time, the most religious bull crap you've ever heard in your frustration. "God never condemns the innocent to suffer. Even if God seems to have turned His back on her...He was actually just loving her enough not to let her get away with it."

That didn't answer your question. It sounded like comfort. But how many people found peace after drunkenly crashing her car and injuring another man in the process?

You should've kept your mouth shut.

"Father Thomas left." Your father told you, yanking you out of your memories and into the chilling Fall breeze. "Father Sylus took over a year ago."

You frowned and took a deep breath, nodding. "Have fun, then. If you need anything, I'll be in the car."

"You coming in?" Your dad pushed his hands into the pockets of his windbreaker.

"No," You replied firmly. "I don't have anything to confess." You had plenty of secrets, none of which you ever intended to discuss, especially not with some out-of-touch priest whose homilies preached forgiveness even as he judged his parishioners - another Father Thomas clone. "Besides, what do you have to confess? Piss off the neighbors again?"

He ignored your sarcasm. "You can come if you want."

After your mother's death, it had become clear that all she ever had was religious guilt. And when you thought about it now, nothing made sense. What part of God's divine plan included drunk driving, death, divorce, depression, drugs, or illness? 

But you couldn't ignore that pull, the way those ornate doors called to you from an insatiable hunger inside yourself. Like the secrets only whispered within the walls of the church. The whisper of your mother telling you just to suck it up and go in.

"Yeah, sure," you forced a smile. You could glimpse something you have missed in the structure before , maybe . For the past few years, you had been trying to spot miracles and tried to find an explanation as to why your mother had died before your eyes that wasn't backwashed with the usual sentiment. 

When you walked through the doors, you paused. It was like time and life had stopped. This chapel gave off an eerily peaceful feeling. With thick wooden pillars reaching up and gently hugging the ceiling, you remembered what it felt like to truly be a child of God—just for a moment, anyway.

Your eyes fell on the apse hosting the Marian shrine, surrounded by candles, many already lit. You recall every candle you lit for your mother, first praying to let her be well, to let her set down the bottle. Then, you prayed harder as she lay in the hospital. You lit a piece of your soul afire with every wick.

And all of it amounted to nothing. Ashes only. Like your mother, sitting in an urn on top of the mantle of your childhood home.

Along the back wall trailed the line of bored parishioners waiting for their turn to confess. You take your spot at the back of the line with your father, settling into the familiar routines of the sacraments.

As the line moves, crawling slowly along the back wall of the nave, you scroll through your phone, or at least start to.

So much of this place reminds you of Father Thomas — the smell of incense, the sound of muffled coughs echoing off the vaulted ceiling, the tinkling sound of the baptismal font in the entryway. 

But there is a presence here that feels nothing like Father Thomas. 

Was it appropriate to compare the new priest to the old one?

This new person sat behind the wooden barrier, shrouded in darkness. Something about him arrested your attention. Your phone sits, ignored, in your hand. 

You know he is the person who would wait for the words you speak in confession, without judgment, and to whom you had no obligation until the moment you would open your mouth. 

"Forgive me Father , for I have sinned. It's been three years since my last confession," you spoke in a quiet, solemn tone. You didn't believe that much had changed since you moved away. Well, except for the one thing that happened - but there was no way you were going to tell him that.

Unbidden memories came to mind. Memories of steamy nights tucked away in hotels, illicit meetings that you knew were wrong because he belonged to someone else already, but you just couldn't resist…

No. You couldn't tell him about that. You were far too ashamed. No, you had to think of something else to say. Anything else to say. 

Tilting your head towards the floor, you lowered your eyes, fighting back any self-loathing emotions in your mind. For a long time, you told yourself that life happened, and in the meantime, there were other things to experience besides faith. 

You had almost forgotten how this all worked and what was supposed to happen next. You heard a shift, the sound of wood creaking. 

"Tell me your sins." The voice of the new priest was soft and smooth, in a way that made the hairs on your arms stand. Father Thomas had never sounded like him, ever reminded anyone what they were supposed to do during confession. In the deep recesses of your mind, you felt there was something unsettlingly familiar about that tone, that cadence. 

Closing your eyes, you tried to bring up literally anything else that could be considered a sin. "I - I told my dad he was an asshole this week." 

Was there really nothing else you could tell him? It felt like a lost cause. He would most likely repeat some bible verse you already knew and admonish you for 'sinning' as much as you had while also claiming the salvation of heaven was all yours for the taking. But that was your burden to shoulder and not his. 

"Why did you call him an asshole?" 

"Sorry?" You weren't sure what was happening. Confession was a place of absolution, a place to listen, not encourage further action or rationale. At least that's how Father Thomas always - 

"Why did you call your father an asshole?" The question was asked again, a little louder as if you hadn't heard it. The more you thought about the question, the less you could discern its intent. Was he looking for something you didn't know?

"Uh, he forgot to pick me up from the airport." You sighed, but the conversation didn't end there. When you paused, you heard him shift again. If you had to guess, he nodded in that kind of stiff way priests do. He probably did it every time you stopped talking, even when there wasn't any vocal confirmation or cue. 

"How long did you wait?" 

"Two hours." You quickly said, trying to imagine a face to match the voice, failing to identify even a bit of the man behind the screen. "I almost got hit by some guy's truck." Another pause made you think back to that moment at the airport when you had gotten so frustrated at your father on the phone. "When Dad finally showed up, he said the fees for the parking garage were too high and made me walk to his car." 

Perhaps this Father Sylus was a lunatic, clearly used to the rich and holy roller types that confessed to him daily. Perhaps his interest in your story would wane. Instead of offering any indication that he cared, he only shifted again. 

When he finally spoke again, his voice soothed any anger brewing. "The Lord teaches us that before we judge others, we should measure ourselves - Proverbs 28:13. 'Whoever conceals their sins does not prosper, but the one who confesses and renounces them finds mercy.' Three Hail Marys and 1 Our Father. And apologize to your father."

You found yourself unsure of how to respond before bowing your head again, "Thank you, Father."  

[syn4k]

hi

i have some ideas about halos.

so heres the idea: someone with a strong connection to their god (or demon or whatever it is that theyre worshiping) gets a halo from their affinity with said god. these are granted specifically by the god themself so not everyone has them. depending on their specific relationship with their god, the halo will appear in different places!

here's my expanded ideas for a few, as introduced in the drawing above:

classic halo

its your standard everyday floating above the head halo, nothing special about it

normally granted to priests

collar halo

hovers around neck

for followers who are Really, Really dedicated to their god. i mean really dedicated. "i will do anything even if i don't know what 'anything' actually is" level dedicated. you know how dogs are, right?

some wear it casually, some wear it like a noose, some wear it like a necklace.

basically works like a normal collar but can only be manipulated at the god in question's behest

armband halo

hovers around bicep, which arm it is depends on the follower's dominant (or preferred if they're ambidextrous) hand.

amputee followers are rare but in the case that someone doesn't have an arm the halo hovers at an angle above their shoulder instead

generally reserved for generals and other military leaders within the god's army if they have one

the hand

appears around the follower's dominant wrist

only seen on those who carry out the plans and will of their god down on earth. gods tend to not get involved in messy stuff so they find someone to do the dirty work for them down on the mortal plane. is also a play on the phrase "right hand man"

voice

appears around tongue

i feel like this one speaks for itself, really (HA).

not for proselytizers- only for those who speak directly for their god

the follower in question may be selectively or forcibly mute the rest of the time. it varies depending on the person and the god.

eyes

also quite self-evident. appears as a glowing band around the followers' irises (or iris). if they don't have eyes then the halo settles around the level of their eye sockets instead.

whatever they see, their god can also. this isn't a 24/7 thing unless said god chooses it to be. still, they tend to not get a lot of privacy

there have been a couple of blind followers designated their god's Eyes on Earth, which is pretty damn cool if you ask me (and also more than a little bit fucked up)

ears

halo manifests vertically around an ear

works the same way as the eye halo does but for hearing instead

the exalt

rarest

only seen with gods and possessed followers

appears as a filled-in circle of light behind the god or follower's head- if you're familiar with catholic iconography you'll understand what i mean. if not, just look up the wikipedia page for halos (religious iconography) and scroll the examples of christian art including halos

followers are rarely possessed by their gods because commonly gods have enough power to manifest a form on their own and need no vessel. a god in physical form may hide or obscure their halo at will. however, in the case that the god is too weak to assume a form of their own, they will sometimes take over a follower's body to intervene directly in a situation. the follower's body will assume the halo in this case and it cannot be hidden

shoutout to christianity for giving me the idea for this one. i got my problems with the jesus fandom but their character designs fuckin slap

some notes:

followers of one god can only have one halo at a time. polytheists can have several at once, one for each god, although this is extremely rare

followers with halos can naturally see each other's halos. those without have to look harder and nonbelievers (of any god) often cannot see them at all

i didn't intend the collar halo idea to be interpreted as a sex thing but if you want to do that then you can ig. im not a cop

yes the halos are customized depending on the god! some of them put time and effort into it. most don't though

[alpaca-clouds]

Let's quickly talk about the Vows of Chastity

Another thing I have been asked about is the entire thing with the Vows of Chastity, given that a lot of the American Christian sects do not have that, while for the Catholics it is a really big deal.

So, generally speaking pretty much anyone who wants to really join the institution of the church (with a few rare exceptions) will swear at least three vows:

The Vow of Chastity

The Vow of Poverty

The Vow of Obedience

Details may vary depending on what order you join. After all, the Catholic church is basically divided into a variety of different orders, and some of them have additional rules. (Some orders have also stuff like a Vow of Servitude, or a Vow of Hospitality, and other specific vows. Though in Mizrak's case the Order of St. John had only those same three Vows, with them being fairly well known to not fully enforce the vow of Poverty a whole lot.)

If you now wonder, why the Catholics have this and so many other Christian groups do not: St. Paul.

If you are not really firm with your bible, there is the following thing you need to know. Generally speaking a lot of the bigoted stuff in the bible shows up in the old testament. Then Jesus comes around and is like: "Yeah, no, forget about that. We make new rules." Then Jesus dies, and then a guy named Paul shows up, establishes a lot of the basics for the church and he is like: "Yeah, actually, fuck other religions, women and gays specifically." And he also basically made rules for apostles, that then were turned into the rules for priests and monks. And from those writings come the three vows as above.

The Vow of Chastity originated with a Vow of Celebacy, which sounds like the same, but was not quite. See, the Vow of Celebacy was originally about priests and monks not marrying, because they are basically married to God. Of course, because back in the day you are not supposed to have sex outside of marriage, this meant automatically that you were not supposed to have sex. But of course this needed to be made a bit more... clear.

Now, as Maria so rightfully says in season 1: It is rather well known that priests cannot keep it in their pants.

I have grown up Catholic, with my mother being very, very active within the church. I mean, heck, I privately met one of the popes in my childhood, just for reference how much I got roped into the entire thing.

And what I can tell you from that is: There is a lot of stuff happening within Catholic organizations based on this. "Oh, this priest has had a lover." And: "Oh, did you know Priest XY is actually in a committed relationship with his housekeeper?" And: "Bishop XY has a child out of wedlock!" And of course the classic: "When those bishops went to the Vatican there was a gay sex party!!!!"

And that is without going into the entire thing with the rape happening under Catholic organisations.

Now, at the time when both Castlevania and Castlevania: Nocturne take place, it happened that adults joined monestaries and such, but for the most part people joined in their childhood or youth. The high positions in the Church were often taken by the third or forth child of some nobles (the first one has to marry well, the second one will be kept as a backup - given high mortality - but then, because nobility and clergy were very connected, the third son usually would become a bishop or something). And lower ranking positions within the church were often filled with both orphans, and the later surviving kids of poorer families that could not afford anything else.

Today, of course, things are different. Usually people - at least in western countries - joining the clergy actively decide to do so. Which leads to a very strong overhang of queer clergy. It makes sense if you look at doctrine: Being queer is a sin. But we know of course that it simply is something you are. So you never are able to live out your sexuality without sinning. You do not want to marry a woman, because you are not attracted to women. So, why not join the clergy? Then you do not have to force yourself to have sex with a woman. Though of course, you realize soon enough - as you visit priest school - that you are not the only person with that idea. And so you sit there in the secluded school, surrounded by a bunch of self-hating homosexual men. Welp.

Mind you: Within the Catholic Church it is a constantly discussed topic. Because while Paul definitely suggests those things in his letters, Paul technically is not a prophet (he never claims he has a message from God), and neither Jesus nor the actual prophets say that those vows need to happen. This is the reason why so many other flavors of Christianity allow marriage for priests and even open homosexuality. Not to mention that the church in general with all those riches is doing very well on the Vow of Poverty. Same goes with the question of women as priests. This is also fully based on the Paulus letters. There is absolutely a chance at some point a Pope will come around to say: "Yeah, actually priests can have sex now and also hooray for female priests!"

Of course - at the time of this show... Yeah, that had not happened. xD