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hotluncheddie · 3 months

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Memories of somethin' even smoking weed does not replace.

wc: 2.9k | cw: alcohol | rated: M | part: 1/2 | tags: pre s4 au, steve harrington centric, stobin soulmates, raised catholic steve harrington

part 2 | ao3

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8:32pm January 3rd: Steve’s car

‘God stop complaining! It’s one party!’ Robin says, her exasperation at Steve finally boiling over.

Steve rolls his eyes, hard, wants to make sure she sees it. He’s stressed and uncomfortable and wants to be petty and petulant and complain because this night is going to end in him embarrassing himself somehow, he just knows it.

Robin makes just as much of a face back at him but then her eyes are full of concern. ‘You’ve just, been so mopey lately.’ she fiddles with her fingers, bites a nail even though that was her resolution. ‘and I know you say you haven’t been, but you know that I know, that you barely got out of bed on your days off over the holidays and that makes me sad.’ Robin laments, ripping his bitchiness off like a bandaid, seeing whats underneath.

Steve signs, defeated by her big beautiful brain. She is right, but. ‘Robbie. it was between Christmas and new year, there was nothing going on. What do you expect me to do? it’s literally time made for relaxing.’ Steves own exasperation falling away into something that just sounds tired. He’s so tired. And he hates it when she worries, he’s not, he’s still not used to it. Someone who cares, notices when he spends three days in bed because the thought of getting up when his parents are downstairs makes him want to puke. And, he loves her for it, but, sometimes it makes his skin crawl, makes him feel like he’s not good enough, not hiding well enough. Pitied.

‘But you don’t relax. You mope. You, like, wallow.’ She pokes his arm a couple times for emphasis, but her voice is softer, still a little sad. ‘And.’ she takes a deep breath. ‘I know you don’t want to talk about it. But I also know this time of year makes you miss Nancy.’

‘Oh God, Rob, please.’ Steve whines, desperate now. ‘Don’t start bringing up Nancy.’ He drags a hand down his face, that is the last thing he wants to talk about. Think about. Admit anything to anyone about.

She’s not, entirely wrong but Steve still hates hearing it. He does miss Nancy, or, well, misses her in theory. He doesn’t really miss her anymore. But, he misses being her boyfriend, a boyfriend. Being needed, and being held, as pathetic as that sounds.

‘I know. Just.’ Robin says, twisting in her seat to look at him looking at the road. ‘I just. I want you to have some fun dingus.’

Steve squeezes the steering wheel. He nods. Glancing at her and giving her enough of a smile that she knows not to feel bad. It’s really not her fault that this time of year makes him want to sink into a hole, makes him think about purgatory and black vines, what he wants for his future if both can exist.

‘It’ll just be some band kids there, a few stragglers, no one’s going to care that you’re there too.’ Robin explains. ‘Plus, if they say anything I’ll be there to defend you.’ And Steve can hear that care again, but its lighter, said through the joke. He lets his shoulders drop and Steve smiles for real. He can’t help it.

‘Yeah, yeah.’ he says, like she isn’t his everything. Glancing away from the road a second, Steve catches her smile. Happy she’s won but happier that he’s going to at least try and have fun.

‘And, don’t forget you promised to help me with seeing if any of the girls there are even remotely available to me.’ Robin sits back normally in her seat. Talking normally again, worry about her soulmate time over. ‘Plus, who knows, your new favourite customer might just be there too.’ She says into the window, head leaning on her palm.

‘Robin!’ Steve near shouts, scandalised that she’d bring that up.

Robin just cackles.

‘Man, you say a guys jeans fit him nice one time and then it’s all you hear about.’ He grumbles, pretending his cheeks aren’t flaming red. He really hopes any discomfort tonight has nothing to do with that. He almost prays on it. But monsters come out of walls so he stops himself.

Robin wriggles around in her seat, delighted by his suffering. ‘Hey! Hey! No, okay you ragged on me over Tammy! I can make fun of you for making goo goo eyes at Eddie Munson!’

9:00 January 3rd: Kitchen

Steve shivers as the heat from the house mixes with the cold evening air he just walked through. Robin at his side but she’s quickly swept up in a little crowd to say hellos. She looks for him but Steve just waves her on with a scrunch of his eyebrows and a gesture to the beer he wants to find a sport for.

The kitchen in strewn with bottles and cups and snacks, not a total disaster but people have definitely been helping themselves. Steve is a little laser focused on getting the cans set down so he can start on one, relax his nerves a bit, so he doesn’t even notice Eddie sitting on the counter until he nearly gets kneed in the crotch.

He takes a hasty step back and gives himself a mental shake, get out of his own head. Eddies smile looks amused, his eyes able to look so sharp. Steve swallows, grateful for Eddies silence.

‘Hey man. You want one?’ Steve offers Eddie a beer and makes a spot for them on the side.

Eddie takes it, nodding in thanks, their fingers don’t brush, Steve would know. ‘You looking for anything stronger tonight? like King Steve back in the day?’ Eddie asks, taking a drink, hair framing the long line of his neck.

The old name makes bile raise in his throat. Eddie didn’t mean it like that, probably, wouldn’t have said it if he’d known how much that name feels like a brand on Steves skin. Itchy and scarred. Like ‘Harrington’, like ‘Bullshit’, like something that makes people think they know him, like his body and self isn’t his own.

Steve looks away. ’Uh, nah, I’ll stick to the classics.’ Popping the lid and taking a long gulp, going for casual, slouching against the counter.

Eddie nods like it’s no big deal. ‘I won’t make this awkward by asking you about college. I know you know I’ve seen you at family video.’

‘Your late back on ‘Poltergeist’.’ Steve says without thinking. Winces, why is he acting like such a loser? ‘But uh, yeah. Thanks.’ He finishes lamely. No way any colleges wanted him on his concussion grades and zero extra curricular credits.

‘Shit, so you do actually do your job.’ Eddie shakes his head, like Steve had deeply wounded him, sarcastic and mocking, pretty little glint in his eye. But it still makes some ugly, desperate little part of Steve rear up and want to take it back, beg for forgiveness.

Steve drowns that thought and chugs the rest of his beer.

Someone must motion something to Eddie from one of the other rooms because he nods his head up in understanding. But before he goes he leans in closer to Steve, smirking. ‘Oh, and, don’t thank me yet. I also saw you in that sailor get up at the mall.’

Steve chokes on his spit, coughing and spluttering like an idiot.

‘Thanks for the beer.’ Eddie says, patting him once on the shoulder before hopping off the counter and into the throws of the party.

Steve watches him go, skin of his shoulder tingling through his sweater. He feels an itch, like he’s being watched and turns his head to find robin staring at him from where she’s still by the door, talking to friends. Her smile wicked.

Robins parting words from the car float back through his mind and make his stomach twist. ‘Lucky for you, Eddie makes goo good eyes right back.’ She’d said, quiet and teasing, and Steve hates her. her hates her.

It’s going to be a long night.

10:54 January 3rd: Staircase

It’s a little quieter at the front of the house.

It had been going pretty well and then someone mentioned Starcourt. A couple pairs of eyes flashed to him in recognition. Someone murmuring to another, mentioning Hop. And then Steves eyes were prickling and his wrists were tingling and he had to excuse himself. Squeezing Robins shoulder for her not to follow. Just a minute alone to breath. Sip his drink to get the copper to wash from his lips. Get his teeth back where they’re supposed to be.

Orange streetlights filter through the window of the front door. It catches the dust, makes it sparkle.

He thinks about midnight mass with his parents, their one Christmas plan that he’s not allowed to get out of. Thinks about how the light filtered through the stained glass, made patches of the floor look red. Thought about the ceiling of Starcourt, the taste of red metal on his tongue as the world spun.

Went up for communion and crossed himself. Looked up at the crucifix. Thought about how the gash that opened in Joyce’s living room was red. How somethings grow in darkness, in cracks and out of sinew. A nail bat ripping through skin.

He looks at the drink Robin made him as a joke, its almost wine coloured, a murky, deep red. It makes Steves insides twist, she didn’t mean it, she didn’t. But blood of the lamb is making the back of his eyelids flash red and brown, flash lightning and ash floating through the air. His nose filled with mould.

‘Yeesh what is that Harrington?’ Steve looks up, Eddie’s blocking some of the orange light, head haloed and face in shadow.

Steve looks back into the cup, seeing it for what it is again. Remembering how her face lit up with laughter as she dumped in whatever she could find, knowing it would be awful but knowing Steve would still drink it. She made it for him, how could he not?

He looks back up at Eddie, Steve can smell his cologne. It smells good. ‘Don’t ask, Robin made it.’ He waves his hand and tries to clear his head of red and black. The spirits mix with the beer and now his hands and feet tingle, he focuses on that, it’s nice.

Eddie eyes it warily. ’You wanna trade?’ and he holds up a beer, a different brand that the ones Steve brought, he has two, for some reason.

Steve looks into his cup, ‘Its honestly not that bad.’ He swirls the contents around a little, there’s something floating in it.

‘Seriously?’ Eddie asks. Steve looks up at him and his eyebrows have disappeared behind his bangs

Steve smiles, his lips tingling. ‘No.’ and his smile grows at Eddie laugh, he has dimples.

He looks at Eddie and decides, then, to take. See what he gets given. He can confess later.

The alcohol made a couple of the awkward conversations he had tonight bearable and the couple less awkward conversations he had enjoyable. Maybe it’ll do the same for him now. Steve takes the beer and places his other drink carefully on the stair behind where he’s sitting, makes a mental note to dump it out when he moves.

He shifts, sitting in a way he hopes looks casual, like he wasn’t just thinking about divine sacrifice. The staircase it wide and the carpet is soft, a nice place to take a break. A nice place to talk to a boy. A boy who makes his heart beat in his throat. Steve can confess later.

‘You run Hellfire right?’ He asks, sipping his beer and cataloguing again how the orange light shines on eddies hair, over his shoulder.

Eddie faces him fully, bobbing his head slightly to the music, Steve doesn’t recognise the song, he doesn’t think its one they play on the radio. ‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah. like X-men’ Steve says.

Eddie blinks at him, but then the corners of his mouth curl and his eyelids droop and Steve feels too hot suddenly. ’Okay, I’m gonna need his majesty to explain how he knows about either of those.’

Swallowing, Steve goes for honest. ’Well first off you used to put new posters up every, like, two weeks man, kinda hard to ignore.’ Steve says, lifting up a finger. he paid attention, eddies doesn't need to know yet how much. But Steve paid attention.

Eddie stays silent, looks at him, eyes roaming over his face, lip still curled. Steve feels his adams apple bob.

‘Second, I babysit some of the dweebs who are current members.’ Steve lifts a second finger, takes another sip of beer. ‘And three, X-men is like super popular. And, like, super good.’ And Steve takes another drink, just because, just to help him be.

Eddies lips curl into a full smile, all teeth and a little tongue. He sips his own beer, looking away from Steve then back at him a couple times, like he thinks he’ll vanish, change before his very eyes. He shakes his head. ‘What changed with you man? I never expected any of that to ever come out of your mouth, like, ever.’ And eddies sounds kind of delighted, voice musical and tinkling.

Steve just shrugs, feels hot, Eddies voice too close to happy, words too close to praise. ‘Grew up a little, I guess.’ He crosses his arms, looks down at his shoes.

‘Yeah? That why no more parties?’ and Eddies voice is soft, Steve can feel his body heat, his knee by eddies hip.

‘I’m just not so big on, that much attention any more. That much noise.’ Steve says, looking back into Eddies face. Finds him staring, lips quirked in a little smile, softer, then before. Leaning his chin in his hands on the banister, leaning into Steves space.

‘So, you and Buckley, what’s that about?’ Eddies whispering now, like he knows it’s precious. The orange light kisses his cheek.

Steve clears his throat, whispers back. ’Summer job. We scooped ice cream and she, uh, scooped up my heart.’ he smiles, just from talking about her, thinking about them.

‘Oh.’ Eddie says, drawing away just slightly, eyes hardening in a way Steve hates.

He almost reaches out, something drastic, desperate. But he pulls back, fiddles with the tab on his can. ‘No, um. Not that kind of oh. I mean in, like, a friend way. Totally platonic oh.’

‘Right’ Eddie comes back, but it’s not quite the same, the moment lost. Steve feels a rosary between his knuckles.

‘Seriously, platonic soulmates. It’s a thing.’ He tries to lighten, tries to make Eddie read his mind the way robin does. It takes a moment, but then Eddie lets his eyes drink in Steves face again. His smile unfurling, sweet and pretty and different than before. He nods once, taking a drink. Looking away, cheekbones flushed pink.

Steve can confess later.

Robin comes barrelling down the hall calling out for Steve. But she skids to a halt when she sees Eddie. Then her eyes find Steve and she looks at him with raised eyebrows and barely contained glee bubbling under its surface. ‘Munson.’ She greets, eyes staying on Steve. ‘You’re late back on ‘Poltergeist.’

Eddie laughs, big and delighted. ‘Hey Buckley.’ He says. ‘Looking for your boy?’ but as he said that he’s gone back to the same position, still leaning on his hands, still looking right at Steve.

Steve feels his cheeks heat.

‘Ugh, not my boy. You are definitely not getting out your late fee for that.’ And she shoves him out of the way to get to Steve and grab his hand. ‘They want me to play beer pong, you’re on my team.’ And she’s pulling him up and away.

Steve cranes his neck back to give Eddie a little wave goodbye but he’s pushing off the banister, he’s following.

He walks slow, lazy, almost sauntering. Looking right at Steve still, with that little smirk. He knows. He knows. Steve feels the eucharist on his tongue. ‘What?’ Eddie asks, innocent but his smile isn’t. ‘I wanna watch.’ And Steve just squeezes Robins hand tighter, lets her pull him into the kitchen.

11:45 January 3rd: Kitchen

People cheer as Steve neatly sinks the ping pong ball into the final cup, Robin nearly jumping onto his back she’s so exited. The first couple games with Robin and some of her random band friends really weren't great, he drank a few times, helped Robin get through her shares, they barely won. But by the third game he basically played alone and won pretty easily. The crowd seem entertained, cheering for him and random people kept patting him on the shoulder. it’s weird, a little stale on his skin to be congratulated like that, over something like this again. But he’ll be that guy again for one night, if just to make Robin smile.

He downs a cup someone offers him in celebration. Accepting a couple high fives from Robins band friends. Tries to not be weird, to not show how the praise makes him itch.

Steve lifts his wrist up to wipe at his mouth. His eyes drawn to the far side of the room. Eddie is leaning against the wall, black jacket against stark white. He claps slowly once, twice, his eyes shining with something. Like Steve is something funny, something interesting.

Steve’s hands and feet tingle, his lips a little numb. Feels warm. Doesn't think about churches or blood or monsters. Just lifts his eyebrows, sucks some of the sticky beer from the pad of his thumb, and winks.

Eddie rolls his eyes and rolls off the wall, disappearing into another room.

But Steve saw his smile.

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part 2 | ao3

written for Lex’s Spicy Six Winter Challenge! run by @thefreakandthehair and using the prompt: 'spiked eggnog'. ty for putting this on always!! sorry im posting on the last day again lol xoxo

title from 'stick season' by noah kahan (edited slightly to fit better)

@pearynice and @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx ty for the kind words and guidance getting me unstuck with this fic <3 its alive now

lmk if you would like a tag for part two :)

#hes a boy with a lot of thoughts #some of those are about another boy #some are about the meaning of grace in a world with monsters #and that's okay #this was very hard and then very fun to write #hotlunch #my fic #steddie #steve x eddie #catholic steve harrington #pre s4 au #platonic soulmates stobin #spicysixwinterfanworkschallenge

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introspectivememories · 1 year

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obsessed with the idea of nico still being a practicing catholic. like they try to invite him somewhere on like a sunday and he's like "can't. gotta go to mass, sorry" and he shadow travels to the vatican

#they sit him down and are like 'nico. we're greek. why are you still catholic? your dad literally collects the souls of the dead'#and nico is like 'first of all that's thanatos. second the gods might help you on your quests but whose helping you reach heaven'#he unironically wear one of those wwjd bracelets #this is so amusing to me #the idea that they're like 'skip just one day nico!'#and he shrugs and is like 'cant. sundays are obligatory days'#nico di angelo #pjo #hoo #book.rambles #1k

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canisalbus · 4 months

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translated by GT

Today I learned that the Pope has the right to appoint secret cardinals, and even the cardinals themselves may not realize that they now have a new position. Popes have the right to make the name public at any time, but if the Pope dies before the Cardinal's name is made public, the individual ceases to be a Cardinal.

Yes, Catholicism is weird.

But more importantly, there is only one person in the world who can prove that I am not a cardinal.

#I've heard of those #stuff is complicated as is and the rules and canon have varied a lot throughout history #don't quote me on this but I believe in order to be eligible to become a cardinal these days you have to be an unmarried catholic man #between the ages of 30 and 75 #and an ordained priest at minimum even though in practice all cardinals are bishops or archbishops #but I also think the pope as the sovereign leader has the power to appoint anyone at least in theory #and historically the requirements have been a lot looser popes would create cardinals pretty haphazardly #nepotism was exceedingly common every pope would want to surround himself with relatives friends and allies #at least a few popes allegedly made their lovers into (largely incompetent) cardinals back in the day #answered #anonymous #not that I know anything but everything I've read about the renaissance holy see has immense chaotic energy

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dirtytransmasc · 7 months

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ok but like, Modest!Alicent Hightower au (more modest than she already is) cause I feel like it, it adds ✨layers✨

Alicent who veils her hair during her day to day life, elegant laces and silks adorning her long ginger-brown hair, covering it completely at the Sept.

Alicent who wears dresses with long heavy skirts and always covers her elbows with billowing sleeves.

Alicent who conceals her silhouette with thick shaping garments. they also just helped her back during her pregnancies and taking care of kids (her servants recommended them so she'd have full range of motion and support)

Alicent who was stripped of her modesty, her dignity and sense of security whenever Viserys wanted her. stripped of it by her own father when he sent her to Viserys's chambers in a dress that didn't cover as much as she would have liked, especially when she visited a man with those (silent) instructions.

Alicent who lets her hair down around people she trusts. covering it around Rhaenyra after she abandoned her, a blow to Rhaenyra, a blatant "you hurt me and broke my trust". letting Criston see her hair after he becomes her sworn sword. covering in front of Viserys until he demands she stops. Alicent putting a little makeshift veil on her daughter, who wanted to look like her mum, promising it would protect her from how loud the world was.

Alicent who only trusts her closest servants to dress her, and even then insists on being in a full shift before they can come in.

Alicent who felt stripped bare while giving birth to her children.

little Alicent looking up to her mum who was also very modest, and spending her childhood playing in long skirts.

Alicent who wears shawls and scarves out in public or at events. Criston watches to make sure she remains properly covered. her hands fiddling with the patterns or tassels while she talks to others.

Alicent doing this with her kids:

Criston offering her his cloak when she's put in bad situations like sudden crowds or outings.

wearing flowy but opaque fabrics during the summers, looking ethereal and goddess-like with her layers skirts and sleeves.

the whole Larys situation being even more sickening.

all 3 of her sons being protective of her modesty alongside Criston, always offering their cloaks to her or standing to block her from the wind or wandering eyes. Aegon holding her veil in place when it's windy, Aemond placing a cloak over her in public, Daeron fiercely defending his mum from lusting glances or lingering stares.

Helaena continuing to veil with her mum when they go out, they love matching veils and trying ornate styles.

Alicent fixing her daughters veil in attempts to get it to stay in on dragon back. it doesn't. but they don't mind the extra bonding time none the less.

gold veils that literally make her look like she's dripping in gold.

tucking her babes in her shawls or holding them against her skirts that are practically swallowing them whole.

Alicent collecting layers. Ornate undergarments that cover her arms in gold and embroidered patterns, some almost like tapestries others more simple. undershirts that cover her neck, with "choker" patterns and sewn in jewels. modest nightgowns and robes made of the softest, most breathable fabrics in existence.

covering her face on holy days/days of importance.

I just have so many thoughts.

#based vaguely off of my modest Catholic family #cause modesty is so fucking beautiful and I think we should talk about modest Alicent more cause it has so much potential #I think giving her that kayer of preserving her modesty. showing more to those she trusts. having it robbed from her. the way it involves-#those she loves. its all symbolism and its making me salivate. im chewing my own leg.#plus the etheral almost divine beauty that comes from modesty #(but also intentional and consented immodesty. cause they are two sides of the same coin)#is indescribable #especially when its a choice made by someone for themselves and themselves only #alicent (in my mind) chooses to be modest. she wants to be. she does it for herself as a commitment to herself. her faith. her mother.#she loves her modesty and creates her own rules as to who sees what #ita control #it's self care and love #its beautiful #alicent hightower #pro alicent hightower #queen alicent #alicent my beloved #ser criston cole #criston cole #pro criston cole #vauge #alicole #platonic Alicole #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #helaena targaryen #daeron targaryen #pro team green #modesty

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biracy · 2 months

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"Harrow wouldn't be goth she'd be Catholic" I think Catholics are a lot more goth than a lot of you give them credit for

#like i agree Kind Of but she's kind of already literally goth and catholic #reliquaries and catacombs and memento mori and shit. all those statues and paintings of dying saints. cmon #open mick night #the locked tomb #tlt #harrowhark nonagesimus #harrow the ninth #gideon the ninth

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cemeterything · 1 year

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DUDE, re: that post you reblogged about pigeons and doves, do you know of the Luzon bleeding heart (Gallicolumba luzonica)?

if i was this bird i'd prank people by clutching my chest and stumbling around and screaming "oh god it hurts so bad! oh fuck somebody help me!" and then sitting up and laughing at their faces when they realize they got totally bamboozled

#🐉#birds #these guys always make me think of those virgin mary statues with the 7 swords piercing her heart for some reason #(<- ex catholic)

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fictionadventurer · 5 days

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My sister just mentioned the story our bishop told, about a woman who went to St. John Vianney after her husband committed suicide by jumping from a bridge, and she was beside herself because she knew he had to be in hell, and John Vianney told her, "Between the bridge and the water is the mercy of God."

#apparently this was from a special mass for the families of those whose loved ones had committed suicide #and she said the whole mass was excellent for people dealing with that #and i thought that story was an excellent way to approach the concept of salvation #catholic things

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fandumb-thoughts · 1 month

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“What did you do?” Adam asked.

Cain—his first born, the first ever born—looked at him with eyes wide and terrified. Adam’s eyes, Eve would say, the same brown of rich, rain-watered soil.

“I don’t know,” Cain said. “I don’t- Dad, I don’t know. Why won’t he wake up?”

Cain’s lip trembled, hands clasped tightly together, tears welling and falling in great fat drops. He was still so young, younger than Adam had ever been. His knees were knobbly and his wrists thin and he barely came up to Adam’s chin. Big enough to work, to till the fields and pull the weeds and harvest the crops, but small enough to curl tight in his mother’s arms when lightning cracked the sky.

On the ground was Abel, even younger yet. He tended the flocks and kept watch for anything that might want to harm them. He was good with them—gentler than Adam understood, though Eve told him to let him be. Even now several sheep creeped closer, braying nervously at the sharp scent of iron.

Abel was still shorter than Eve. He had a gap in the far back of his mouth where the last of his molars had popped out only a handful of days before. He had freckles that showed up in the summer sun, as if he had grown them there, all over his face and shoulders and arms.

“Dad, what do I do? What can I-?”

Abel’s eyes were open, looking to the sky that they so resembled, but they didn’t see anything. Somehow, Adam knew. Abel wouldn’t see anything ever again.

Adam hadn’t known that they could die. Humans, that was. Adam hadn’t known that Humans could die. How could he?

He’d suspected, of course. He bled when he was cut just like the animals he’d learned to butcher for their fat and meat and skin. He grew weak when they had little food to come by, they all had fallen ill a time or two, he’d watched as Eve lost what would have, otherwise, turned into a child. It wasn’t a shocking conclusion to reach, but he’d never known for certain. Not like he did now.

Adam fell to his knees, hands helplessly cradling Abel’s face. His son, his body, his baby-

There was so much blood, comign from the cracked-open place in Abel’s brown hair. It dyed his curls slick black, spilling down his neck. The soil was covered in it. This place would be stained for days—weeks, maybe even months—just as the place they slaughtered the livestock was marked as a place of death.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry.” Cain was sobbing, hiccuping over his words and gasping for breath.

Adam’s vision was blurring as his own tears came. Abel’s face felt rubbery and wrong underneath his hands. Lifeless.

This was wrong. This shouldn’t have happened. This should never happen. Abel was so young, had so much more to live. He would keep growing—maybe until he was taller than not only his mother but Adam too—and he would continue to tend the flocks like personally tending to the lambs that fell ill with sudden weakness and some day he would have his own children because that’s how it worked, how God had told them it worked and He never lied.

“D-Dad, say something, please. Daddy, say something!”

Cain was his son, too. The first Human ever born when Adam and Eve still struggled to provide even the most basic needs for themselves. He was a good boy—always so helpful, always so smart. He knew when food ran low, when the well pulled up dry, when the hearth burnt out, that it wasn’t easily fixed and so he didn’t complain and tried his hardest to make it better, somehow. He was a good son.

So why had he done this?

“What happened?” Adam asked, still looking at those glassy blue eyes.

“I-” Cain stuttered, like he didn’t expect to be asked. “We went to bring out sacrifices to God. I brought what extra I had grown and Abel slaughtered a goat—the little one, with the limp. God accepted the goat but He…He said I was to do better.”

God was like that sometimes, Adam knew. He didn’t know why, maybe He just liked meat better than grains and fruit.

Each time they had to butcher even a chicken Abel got—had gotten—upset. When they slaughtered the goats and sheep and cattle he always cried, but they needed to eat and God needed to be praised and worshiped.

“He- He always says that, but I give Him everything. I’ve always set aside the sweetest fruit, the finest wheat, the very best of the lot. I make sure to give Him everything Mom thinks we can spare—sometimes even more because I don’t want to disappoint Him.”

Cain sounded desperate. Like he needed Adam to understand.

“What happened?” Adam repeated. His voice thundered, and he saw Cain’s feet stumble back. Some part of Adam was distraught at having incited such a fearful reaction, but some other part nearly reveled in it.

“I was just so angry,” Cain said, sounding miserable and defeated and small. “It isn’t fair Abel is always getting praised when he’s choosing the weakest and worst of what he has. I didn’t…I wanted him to hurt but not this badly.”

“Wasn’t,” Adam said.

He was shaking, but not from cold or fear. Rage coursed through him like it never had before—not even when Lilith left him, or when he’d bitten into the Fruit and understand what they had just been tricked into doing, or when God had cast them from Eden.

“What?” Cain asked. He still sounded so small, like he was Seth’s age instead of nearly fifteen. Maybe even younger than that.

“It wasn’t fair. Abel was getting praised.”

“No! No, Dad, he isn’t- I didn’t-”

He understood what he’d done. He probably had since the very start, or close to it. He was never stupid.

“He is,” Adam said, and finally looked at Cain.

Cain looked lost. Frightened, in many ways, like every single thing he knew had been upended and scattered. Adam…couldn’t feel much of anything.

“He can’t be,” Cain said, a plea like a prayer. “I didn’t mean it.”

“He is. He’s dead. You killed him.”

“No,” Cain wept. “No!”

Adam was standing. His hands were covered in his son’s blood, his son who lay dead on the ground at his feet. Cain shrank away from him, like-

Like he was afraid Adam might kill him.

“Leave,” Adam said.

Cain sobbed. “No, Daddy, please- I didn’t know! I didn’t know!”

“Leave!” Adam shouted. “You killed him! Get away from here, get out!”

Cain tripped over his feet, scrapped a knee and both palms in the dirt. And then he ran.

Adam watched until he left the field they had tended together, that Adam had first sowed when Cain was first learning to wobble on chubby legs. He watched as he tore through the brush and sharp brushes, until he lost sight of his hair and brown tunic, until he couldn’t hear him in the forest. He stayed there, staring off into the space where he had gone, until a small lamb brayed near his feet.

The creature had crept closer to him and its fallen favorite master. It bleated at the boy crumpled to the earth, clean white wool coming nearer and nearer to being stained by the blood congealing in Abel’s clothes.

“Fuck,” Adam said. His boy—his boys. Cain and Abel, the first two and then only two for several grueling years. One always coming right after the other.

Hadn’t Eve seen this coming? Had a dream so terrible it woke her in the night with a start so strong it had woken Adam, too? She’d begged him to help them, their two eldest children, to prevent the animosity she knew was brewing.

Adam hadn’t believed her, not really. The boys adored each other, it was plain as day to see. Still, she had insisted and it wasn’t that bad of an idea to separate their area of work. Perhaps it would be best, in the long run, for Cain to know as much as he could about farming the earth and for Abel to know how best to tend to their animals. A downright practicality. Up until this moment, had Eve come to him again with her concerns, he didn't think he would have believed it.

Even now, even after all this…he couldn’t actually believe that the two hated each other. Certainly not their sweet, gentle Abel and their thoughtful, dedicated Cain. Not when the roughest tumble they’d gotten into before had only resulted in bruises because they’d accidentally fallen from the river bank they’d been walking near. Not when Adam had watched Cain rise from the bed he and Abel shared with their youngest brother, delicately extracting himself from the tangle of limbs so as to not wake the others, only this morning.

“Fuck!” Adam yelled, tears falling hot and fast.

It was frighteningly easy to gather Abel into his arms. To carry his limp little body back to the house—back to his bed, his mother, their hearth.

“Adam?” came Eve, as he entered their little yard. “What- no, no!”

She must’ve thought he was carrying something else, at least for a moment, but the instant she realized her scream was shrill enough to send the chickens flying to the trees.

“No, no, my baby, my baby,” she cried, running to Adam as if she could take the weight all unto herself. “No, please, this can’t- oh!”

From where Eve had come was Seth, only seven and still little enough to cling to his mother’s legs when uncertain. He looked very much like he would like to do just that, now, old enough to understand that he wouldn’t be able to. Not when Eve wept as she did, not when Adam’s face was wet, not when Abel was limp and Cain was nowhere to be found.

Eve crumpled to her knees, taking Adam down with her. Her arms crossed beneath his. Between them they cradled Abel, so small and so young and so very dead.

~~~

A/N: Full disclaimer I did in fact write this because I watched Hazbin Hotel. Yes, it did surprise me that such a stupid little show (that I have semi-complicated opinions about but did enjoy watching) inspired something like this. I don't think it's strongly related to Hazbin Hotel in any way, though it could be if I was actually interested in expanding it (and I'm not really). There is non-negligible impact from Supernatural and Good Omens in this as well.

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luvbug724 · 3 months

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in my quest to make jean catholic i ended up making him cry blood. whatever that might as well happen

#i was trying to do like. catholic imagery weeping statues whatever but i couldn't paint the tears right so i just gave up and made it blood #bro #when i tell u those tears looked bad im not kidding im not exaggerating they were nasty #like curdled milk #jean moreau #aftg #tfc #my art

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blujayonthewing · 1 year

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#I've played with irl atheists and catholics and everything in between #but it rarely feels like faith is a real factor for anyone-- DM or player #outside of‚ again‚ divine spellcasters and Big Epic Plot Things #I mean there are a couple of 'RAAAHGH FUCK THE GODS >:C' edgy backstory types but #no one is just Normally Culturally Religious and it's WEIRD #like it's not even a matter of faith in dnd! the gods are LITERALLY OBJECTIVELY PROVABLY REAL #so what does that MEAN for the average person! how does it shape language? business? culture?#where are the people wearing holy symbols like amulets-- or the way modern christians very casually wear crosses?#blessings over meals? prayers before bed? burnt offerings?#and like I enjoy thinking about world and culture building but I know that's A Whole Thing but even just like...#it doesn't feel like anyone believes in gods at all except clerics and paladins #like they DO because they factually exist but in the same way I 'believe in' like. the president of france.#like yeah he exists and is important to some people but has no bearing on my life whatsoever #that's such a fucking weird approach to the DIVINE in a polytheist world where those gods are YOUR CULTURE'S GODS??#I am bad at this myself but I'm not religious so it's harder for me to remember what Being Religious All The Time Casually is like lol #funny enough my character with the most intentionally religious background in this sense #is one of my ones who's ended up wrapped up in Big Plot God Things lmao #'aubree starts the campaign with a holy symbol of yondalla because of course she does why wouldn't she'#'oh okay well she's gonna get deeply and personally entangled with a bunch of death gods immediately' fdkjghkdf oh!! welp #you don't really pray to urogalan unless you're breaking ground for a new building or someone just died so it's STILL weird for her lol #but at least I had the framework there of 'oh yeah the gods exist and matter to me and my everyday life and culture' in general #about me #posts from twitter

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gaiuskamilah · 7 months

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i love how modern aus usually make nia a pretty and high femme influencer girlie but lets be real in a modern au she would definitely be raised a home-schooled mormon or southern baptist and wear the most church modest clothes ever. also tyril is an old money catholic.

#nia is MAYBE a catholic but only in one of those uber conservative catholic fams/communities lol #playchoices #blades of light and shadow #nia ellarious #tyril starfury

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dumb-teambucciarati-headcanons · 1 month

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Education headcanons:

Although some of these are canon

Giorno: is still in highschool, but stopped showing up for class when he joined passione. He still makes a point to always be learning, but only focuses on subjects he is interested in. He knows lots of information about the biological world, but has no idea what certain historical figures have done, unless they were particularly interesting to him. Also he sucks at spelling words correctly. In elementary school he wrote a research report on different types of bugs and accidentally released a bunch of bugs into the school and that apparently bothered some of the teachers and other students.

Bruno: he has like half of a middle school education, and his grades were never super high because he would spend time helping his dad with work instead of completing his homework. Up until his parents divorce, then his dad wanted him to focus more on school. But that stopped after his dads incident, and he started providing for him and his dad and protecting him. He asked Fugo to teach him some math, and Fugo reluctantly agreed. But Fugo will go out of his way to try to avoid having to tutor the man because Bruno has a rough time understanding simple concepts and it makes Fugo want to resort to violence. But Fugo respects Bruno and doesn’t want to snap at him because he knows he isn’t trying to piss him off, Bruno’s just dumb as fuck sometimes.

Abbacchio: has a highschool education and went to the police academy. He also has a few basic college courses under his belt. He had a “have to learn in order to get the job I want” mentality towards school, opposed to being super interested in it. He failed PE in middle school and was bullied for it so badly that he started working out everyday so that would never happen again. Also I kinda think he has a photographic memory, which his stand reflects well. He went to a Catholic highschool and his parents were upset that he hadn’t met a nice catholic girl by the time he graduated highschool.

Mista: has a highschool education and wasn’t really interested in getting any degrees, kinda just wanted to fuck around in his young adult years. Math made him cry, and not because he didn’t understand it, he was actually good at math. But the number 4 would haunt his papers. Asked a lot of questions during class. were they ever relevant? No. Did he ask them? Yes. “Hey teach, so gravity. Like what if instead of the earth having a gravitational pull some rando named, uh, Seth did. But ONLY Seth, and everyone was constantly being pulled towards Seth and if you jumped you’d land back on Seth. How would we survive as a species if that were the case?”

Narancia: elementary school dropout. Gets distracted super easily. Would rather do anything but school, however he is very sensitive about having not even finished elementary school. He will pep talk himself into wanting to learn math and things, and then he will start again and will remember why he hates school. But it’s worse when he actually goes to school and sees eight year olds that understand things better than him. opposed to Fugo tutoring him and only having to feel stupid in front of the smartest person he has ever met, like everyone else feels stupid around Fugo too so.

Fugo: you know, the gifted child that went to university super early. Smartest one in the group. He was the kid that would use his pencils entirely until they were sharpened into tiny little things you could barely hold. Also he bites his pens and pencils. He thinks the pencils are more flavorful. Oh and erasers, those tasted good too. The other kids never wanted to play with him because of his short temper, but that didn’t matter because his parents told him that only stupid kids use recess time to play. Classrooms were super overstimulating for him, with that stupid LED lighting that made him feel like he needed to blink his eyes a hundred times. And then doing that would make him feel dizzy and irritable. Like the lights were the worst amount of bright and the worst shade of the color white, and if one of the bulbs flickered he would feel like throwing up. His parents thought he had been drinking once after being in a classroom for too long, but no it was the lights.

Trish: she isn’t stupid, but she was definitely the type to get others to do her homework for her. Is in the middle of highschool. she would spend all of study hour planning elaborate schemes to skip class with her and her friends. Wanted to go to college but wasn’t sure how she was going to pay for it, her new plan involves passione money. That or she is going to become famous, if Bruno and co. would actually let her live instead of saying things like “it’s too dangerous with other mafia members knowing your name”.

#jjba part 5 #headcanons #narancia ghirga #bruno buccellati #leone abbacchio #guido mista #jojos bizarre adventure #pannacotta fugo #trish una #giorno giovanna #Abbacchio grew up Catholic headcanon #because I need someone to project religious trauma onto sorry #also am I the only one that can’t stand that one particular type of overhead light they use in schools?#I legitimately can’t drive if I’m in a room with those lights for too long #I’m more of a leave the lights off and let the sunlight light up my home kinda person #if the power ever went out at school I rejoiced

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