#Theology of Struggle

[salteytakesonmanga]

I appreciate how Oda illustrates this gap in cultural understanding. Oda is actually really good at getting to the heart of how people’s preconceived notions get in the way of understanding other cultures.

To Vivi, a fight to the death is pointless. She just listened to Dorry basically explain his religion and her response is to say, “this is stupid.” She’s still looking at this from her way of seeing the world, where a fight is about killing each other. She can’t see that to them this is holy.

[abyssalpriest]

"omg when you're doing something new like playing poker or golf and he comes behind you and holds your arms to help you play... So romantic..." ok but have you had your god puppet your body subtly. Have you felt his energy slowly vibrating inside your flesh. Have you felt your nerves become tiny tubes through which you now feel him like a basket star spread. Have you felt the parasite expansions of slow moving abyssal divinity begin to drown your own mind in deep seawater to the point your head is always above the surface, kept there by him letting you maintain control, while he holds and drowns the rest of you. Have you walked with the distinct impression of someone else inside your limbs, muscles, your body inhabited by two. Have you had his hands on your fate strings and impulses and him recreating himself inside your instincts.

[mischiefs-hawk]

Okay I don't know another way to phrase this so sorry if it comes off weird.

If you are Jewish and don't mind helping me understand some ideas about your religion (what is the Talmud, how does that Mischna fit into that, are those things seperate from the Old Testament?) I would greatly appreciate it.

This is for a Master's thesis and dudes I am getting lost here.

[loveofastarvingdog]

HI I LOVE YOU. anyway what i wanted to say was how much i love that You live god. bc to me trying to love god has been like talking to a brick wall. so i love that you have that connection. and the way you talk about it makes me 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 and your poetry 😵‍💫

thank you 😭😭 that is. somehow so refreshing? but i promise i'm not doing anything that special, sometimes it's like pulling teeth

[enigma-absolute]

get loved, nerd

<3

[stsebastiens]

reading a book on biblical womanhood and while I admire the authors attempts to reframe Paul’s writings as being deeply misunderstood with regards to the role of women in the church & home (and that IS true to some degree)…I feel like most evangelical theologians aren’t pulling a patriarchal narrative out of thin air. women were legally just property at the time Paul existed and I feel like that’s significant to acknowledge because that is the historical context & perspective he is coming from. Yes the Bible has been misinterpreted to a grotesque degree in order to sustain a male-first hierarchy but also it’s not like that shit was never present in the text in the first place. two things can be true at the same time etc etc

[spectroscopes]

I haven’t been making as many crazy posts about the vampire chronicles lately and to be clear this isn’t because I’m any more normal about any of the characters, it’s because I’ve been finding memnoch the devil for the most part stultifyingly boring so I haven’t been ripping through it at my usual pace

[selwynsel]

no one tells you about how knowing more about christianity than christians is so so so torturous. a christian starts monologuing about how EVERYONE wants a personal relationship with their god and you just have to pretend to be normal and not tell them their understanding of christianity is incomplete and protestant and hey whats their stance on leavened bread btw. just out of curiosity. no reason why.

[chamomiles-away]

just spent another 1,5 hours on my timetable for uni, coordinating the classes overlapping, looking at the module manuals several times etc etc

[keow]

i'm Christian but really want to be Catholic and have for years but i'm scared of their thoughts on gays and maybe also judging me for being mentally ill? but i literally believe almost ever major Catholic doctrine, like transubstantion and the communion of saints, and i say hail mary's every day.

Honestly, someone could tell you to just go for a denomination that’s similar to Catholicism but still accommodates your personal beliefs (such as Episcopal/Anglican), but as a Catholic I’m obviously not going to suggest that because it’s not really the loving thing to do.

The Church’s stance on homosexual relationships is a very common stumbling block for people considering conversion, so I can’t really blame you for struggling with it. You definitely shouldn’t convert without really addressing that teaching because part of becoming Catholic is saying that you agree with all the doctrines of the Church.

It’s important to remember that BEING gay isn’t a sin, it’s the acting on sexual impulses outside of marriage that is. A heterosexual couple having sex outside of marriage is just as sinful as a homosexual couple doing the same, and both of those are just as sinful as masturbation. I recommend looking into the Church’s teachings on marriage, and especially look into the Theology of the Body. It really helped me understand the purpose of marriage as a sacrament within the Church and the theological reasoning as to why sexual impulses should be reserved for a sacramental marriage. Marriage is also not the only vocation out there—if you aren’t called to marriage, then you just aren’t called to it and God has a different place for you.

As for being judged, if there are people who would judge you for being same-sex attracted or for struggling with mental health, FUCK EM. Truly. I personally have struggled with mental health issues as well and I can tell you I’ve never ever ever received judgement from other Catholics. I was around mostly people my age, but still. Everyone is a sinner and everyone falls short of the perfection. That’s why the Incarnation had to happen. If someone judges you for your shortcomings then they need to take a long hard look at themselves.

Bottom line is that there is a place for you in the Church no matter who you are. I know some teachings can be daunting (teachings on sexual immorality especially), but one of the things I appreciate about Catholicism is that you’re encouraged to ask questions and to truly understand the logical reasons why our doctrines are what they are.

[florencewellch]

Thursday has the most boring classes known to humanity

[stastrodome]

Our fate is inevitable but do not despair. 

[little-diable]

Who prays for Satan? - Priest!Tom Riddle (smut)

This isn't our usual dark!Tom, he's still fucked up, but not as dark as the other priest fics. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Priest Riddle is the reader's theology professor, a man she has always found herself interested in, but things escalate when she joins his church for her internship.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, guided masturbation (f), spanking, forced confession, smut in a church/in a confessional, choking, degrading, unaddressed age gap, power play, professor x student, religious connotations

Pairing: Priest!Prof!Tom Riddle x fem!student!reader (about 3k words)

"Please remember that you only have time until Friday to tell me, where you will do your internship. Have a good week, and don’t forget the essays, please.” The sounds of students hastily rising to their feet echoed through the room, but while some were desperate to leave, getting away from the professor who looked like God’s finest creation, but spoke like the Devil himself, others were desperate to catch his attention with bland questions he found himself annoyed by. 

“(Y/n), do you have a moment?” His voice drew her closer, past the group of students who looked at her with hate swimming in their pupils. She didn’t look at them as she walked past them, coming to a halt in front of the tall man with a soft smile glued to her lips. “Walk with me.”

Neither of them spared the others another glance as he strode out in the hallway, expecting her to follow him. It wasn’t the first class of his (y/n) was visiting, and it probably wouldn’t be the last, as she found herself awfully drawn towards the priest, who had taken on a few theology classes at their university. Something about him was different. Something she couldn’t let go of, no matter how hard she tried to. 

“I knew you’d turn in your essay days before the others would even begin writing it, but I was pleasantly surprised by your work this week. It was smart of you to use the famous Mark Twain quote: “But who prays for Satan? Who, in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it most?” It always stuck with me.”

“Thank you, Professor Riddle. You once told me how much you think of this quote, so it only felt right to use it for this week’s focus on sinning.” The throaty chuckle rumbling through him left her feeling surprised, not used to seeing him this giddy. His smile didn’t waver, not as they came to a halt in front of his office, not as he guided her inside, not as they plopped down on their designated seats. 

“Your essay isn’t the reason for this chat, though. I was thinking of what you said to me, and I decided that you can join my church for your internship. But I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell others I’m allowing you to do this, I never give out internships, and I’m only taking you on because I know how dedicated and smart you are.” Heat rose in her system, crawling up her throat to force (y/n) to avert her gaze. She had been desperate to find a church to join, not wanting to spend her internship as a simple office help, she needed practice, something to help her figure out what she actually wanted to do with her life.

“I highly appreciate this, thank you, professor. I promise, I won’t make you regret your choice.” Her eyes flickered back to his piercing ones, instantly sucked into his mesmerizing grasp. He was like a siren, luring her into his trap to feast on her darkening thoughts – thoughts she hadn’t been able to shake ever since meeting the tall priest. 

“I know you won’t, (y/n). You will start Sunday morning to join me for the first service of the day, and then we can go through your task for the upcoming two weeks.” 

……

“Professor?” Her voice hallowed through the empty church. It was still dark out, an early morning she had struggled to adjust to, and yet her nerves had managed to get her out of bed, finding her way towards these holy halls. Her sneakers met the ground as (y/n) walked up to the altar, letting her fingertips dance over the cold marble, appreciating the grounding sensation she was instantly taken over by. 

“You’re early.” Professor Riddle's raspy voice made her jump, she had been too distracted by her surroundings to hear him approach, slowly turning towards him with wide eyes. He was wearing his black signature suit, paired with the white collar she’d see in her darkest moments, making heat pool between her thighs. 

(Y/n) clawed her fingernails into her palms to rip herself out of the hazy fog calling for her, needing to stay focused before she could do or say something that would end her internship right there and then. 

“I thought you may need some help preparing for the service.” A sickly sweet smile tugged on her lips, forcing his teeth to rot from the mere possibility of tasting her. He took a step towards her, with his hands clamped together behind his back, giving him an extra authoritarian touch. But while her body screamed at her to take a step back, to find shelter behind the altar, her mind murmured to (y/n) to hold still, not daring to give in to his intimidation scheme. 

“I certainly appreciate your help, (y/n). I knew it was the right choice to pick you for this internship.” He towered over her, staring down at her with his gaze reminding her of a snake, ready to pounce, to sink its poisonous teeth into her quivering body. At that very moment, she was Eve, tempted by the eternal sin, and he was her downfall. She stood closer to him than ever before, front about to touch his, seeking the warmth he emanated in a place as cold as this church. 

“So, what should I do?” (Y/n) needed to get away from him, no longer trusting herself with ignoring the shameless whispers ringing in her ears. But the tall man didn’t back off, he kept watching her with that smirk that told her he knew exactly what she found herself bothered by. A losing game (y/n) had never been destined to win, burning out like a cigarette setting a petrol station ablaze, destined to burn to the ground. 

“Why don’t you choose this morning’s prayers?” He reached for the Bible resting on the altar, way too close to her. His front brushed hers as he leaned forward, reaching for the leather-bound book before pushing it into (y/n)’s grasp. Their eyes kept holding contact, even as his hand disappeared inside the pocket of his jacket, pulling free a black rosary. “Oh, before I forget. Here, I want you to have this.” 

(Y/n) didn’t get any time to react or to ask questions as he pushed the rosary over her head to let it rest on her chest. His hand kept holding onto the dangling cross, while his eyes flickered back to her confused ones. “They will know you belong to me, wear it whenever you are working here.”

……

Her eyes were focused on the bright laptop screen as she was typing away her notes for this day, promising to give them to Professor Riddle before leaving. Even though her thoughts were still all over the place, (y/n) found herself growing more comfortable around the tall man most students were scared of. He treated her kindly, and yet something was hiding behind his words and expressions she couldn’t pinpoint. 

“Are you done with your notes?” Professor Riddle’s voice filled his office as he stepped inside. (Y/n) didn’t lift her gaze at first, hastily trying to type the last sentence before she gave in and dared to look at him. 

“Just finished, should I print them?” He didn’t reply to her question, eyes fully focused on her upper body, trying to locate the missing rosary. With her breath hitched in her chest, (y/n) watched him approach, rounding the desk to find his way towards her. (Y/n) struggled to breathe as the scent of his expensive cologne clashed against her frame, forcing her to get lost in his darkening eyes. 

“Where is the rosary?” She knew that she had forgotten it at home this very morning, too tired to care about any rules and regulations, but her hand still snapped up to her chest, trying to find the missing piece.

“I’m sorry, I forgot it at home.” He didn’t give in to the soft smile (y/n) shot him, didn’t pick up on the exhaustion dripping from her words, solemnly focused on the way she had gone against his rules. His tongue kissed his teeth before he took a step back and stretched his ringed hand out for her to take. “Where are we going?”

“I wanted to go over this with you tomorrow, but it seems like tonight is the perfect time to do so.” (Y/n) was led out of his office and down the hallway towards the dark nave. They walked up to the confessional, and as he opened one door for her, he shot her a look that made her tremble, letting any protests die on the tip of her tongue. 

“Have you ever confessed before, (y/n)?” She was engulfed by darkness, and could barely see her own hands, let alone the man who was sitting close to her, behind the wooden construction keeping them apart. The scent of incense hung in the air, sticking to her like a second layer of skin, a reminder of their sacred surroundings.

“No, professor.” (Y/n) had been addressing him as “Professor” for the past days, not daring to use any other title, let alone his first name. But the second she used this very title to address him, (y/n) could tell that it would be the last time she’d call him that tonight, a shift was happening, something she was now taken over by. 

“It’s Priest Riddle to you.” The barely audible gasp clawing through (y/n) left him chuckling, followed by the sound of him shifting around on the bench, making himself comfortable as she grew more tense. “You sinned, you went against my rules. I must punish you for that, (y/n).”

“Punish me?” She hated that his words pushed excitement through her, forcing her to sit even straighter as if he could see her. Her fingertips began to tingle, her legs were quivering, unable to hold still as something she had only dreamt of slowly began to unfold right at that very moment. 

“Honesty will be the price of your foolishness, (y/n). I notice the way you look at me, how you seem to long for something you aren’t allowed to even reach for. Tell me, (y/n), what is it you so desperately seem to want?” Embarrassment flushed through her, followed by anger she couldn’t shake. How dare he ask something like this? How dare he try to embarrass her for a simple mistake? She should have left the confessional, stormed out of the church, and reported the man for overstepping. And yet she didn’t, already stuck in the trap he had laid out for her months ago.

“I don’t know.” It was the truth. She didn’t know what she wanted from him if she was merely longing for his touch, or if something even more desperate was guiding her on. She didn’t know if she wanted a simple taste, or to be swallowed wholly by him. She simply didn’t know. 

“How far are you willing to go, (y/n)?” Her mouth felt dry, unable to swallow as his words began to sink in. (Y/n) was grateful that he couldn’t see her, the way her pupils were dilated by the lust flushing through her, the goosebumps covering every visible part of her body as if she was engulfed by an icy wind. 

“Farther than I should.” A part of her expected him to break the spell they were now connected by, to pull her out of the confessional and scold her for giving in this easily. But the priest didn’t move, and neither did (y/n). 

“Spread your legs, I want you to touch yourself like I bet you keep imagining me doing.” With her heart in her throat, (y/n)’s hand disappeared beneath her skirt, slowly pushing her damp panties aside. A soft moan clawed through the student, grateful that the others had left the church hours ago. “Good girl, fuck yourself with your fingers.”

Another moan left (y/n) as she pushed two fingers into her tightness, spreading her walls as if she was preparing herself for his cock, desperate to take every inch. She kept moaning for him, choking on her sounds that grew heavier with every passing moment. 

“I can hear how wet you are, I bet you taste so sweet, like the forbidden fruit.” His words guided her on, ringing in her ears as if the Devil was calling for her, wandering through the darkness to reach his open arms, getting lost in his sweet promises. “I should imprint my palm on your skin for going against my rules. You promised you wouldn’t disappoint me, didn’t you?”

“I’m sorry.” Her needy whimpers left the priest chuckling, sounds that almost managed to drown out the ones clawing through (y/n). 

“I’m sure you are, (y/n). Stop touching yourself.” It pained her to pull her hand away, she had been close to giving in, ready to call out his name as her orgasm clashed through her, seconds before she could have reached paradise. The sounds of Priest Riddle leaving his side of the confessional echoed through the evening, followed by the sounds of him opening her side and stepping into the small space. 

She was pulled to her feet and tugged in for a kiss that left her moaning. (Y/n)’s arms found their way around Priest Riddle's neck, trying to pull the tall man even closer as if she were addicted to him. He broke the kiss to turn her around, pressing (y/n)’s front against the wooden wall separating both sides of the confessional. His ringed hands felt cold against her body as he shuffled her skirt up to her waist, letting her panties drop to the ground seconds later.

“I hope you prepared yourself enough for this punishment.” His ringed hand came down on her behind, forcing a yelp out of (y/n) who pressed herself further against the cold wood. Pain stretched itself through her, an unfamiliar kind of pain that made her ache for more. Once again, his palm met her warm skin, knowing that she’d struggle with sitting for the next few days. “I can’t wait to finally fuck you, make you pay for all these times I felt your eyes on me like a needy whore who doesn’t know when to stop.”

(Y/n) couldn’t protest, she couldn’t speak up to beg him for any kindness he wouldn’t offer. Only as she felt him pull away for a moment did (y/n) allow herself to breathe, blinking away the tears that had welled up in her eyes. 

“What do you want, (y/n)? And don’t feed me another lie. I want your honesty.” Chills ran down her spine at his dangerous tone, shaking through (y/n) like an earthquake set on ripping her off her feet. She had to deeply inhale, had to heavily swallow before she managed to put her longings into words, needing to break out of his trap. 

“I want your cock, fuck me, please, Priest Riddle.” A satisfied hum left the man, followed by the sounds of him ripping open a condom, prepared for his very punishment. It didn’t take long until she felt him at her entrance, slowly pushing into (y/n) with a heavy groan that dripped with need and lust clawing through him.

It felt as if they had been created for his moment only, bodies made to fit. 

“I should tell you to never sin again, to stay true to your promises. But you’ve turned me into a sinner as well, no promise could keep me from you any longer.” His words left her gasping, walls clenching around this twitching cock. He fucked her with urgency, set on proving to (y/n) and to himself that she was his, his to guide, his to punish. 

“You take my cock so well, I bet you dreamt of being fucked by me in a holy place, didn’t you?” His warm breath clashed against her tingling skin as he spoke his words, drawing a heavy sob out of (y/n) as she lost her grip on their surroundings. Tom’s hand moved like a snake, slithering back up to her throat to hold onto her, letting go of a raspy, “Speak when I ask you to.” 

“Yes, I did. I dreamt of it.” It was a simple reply, yet it was just enough to make the priest hum in approval. He twitched inside of her as he could tell that they both were ready to let go with their hearts pounding and their limbs aching. (Y/n) struggled to breathe on as he tightened his grip on her throat, forcing her head to rest against his broad chest. The priest stared down at (y/n), her lighthouse in the darkest nights, the burning bush to rely on. An anchor of safety. 

“Let go, (y/n), be honest once again.” She came with a gasp, with her eyes squeezed shut and her lips parted. A sight so ethereal, the priest followed her moments later, letting his teeth graze his lower lip to draw some blood. He pulled out of her all too quickly, to turn her back towards him with his bloody lip finding hers, “Now you’re truly mine, bound my blood.” 

And who was she to deny a sinner a wish this pure? At least it was on them to pray for Satan that night, since God no longer would pick up on their calls. 

[rebee-sweetie]

I have three main head cannons for Bakugo, which these are smutty head cannons, so read at your own risk. 18+

First of all, This man is very into rough sex. You are constantly sore. Half the time he’s pissed off from hero work, Deku, or some extra. Which means for you, the sex is rough. He’ll pound into you against a wall, the bed, the table, honestly anywhere. The lewd sound of slick skin on skin slapping each other. If your cunt isn’t sore by the time he’s done with you, his theology is he didn’t go at you hard enough. His goal is to fuck you till you can’t think straight and he will fuck you dumb. Bakugo loves to find every part of you that is sensitive, inside and out. Sucking on your nipples and pulling away with a hollow popping sound, maintaining eye contact the entire time. He makes sure that every part of you is overstimulated. Your nipples so sensitive that gently brushing it will make you gasp and wiggle in his grasp. Or your clit will be swollen and gently circling it will make your entire body jolt. Bakugo’s crimson eyes are constantly dark with a deep hunger for you. There isn’t a single spot he hasn’t discovered and he’ll tell you,

“M’ the best, Your body outta know it too. You’re gonna continue to cum on this cock till I’m done with you baby.”

Second of all, this man likes marking you up and he wants you to mark him too. It’s bound to happen in the heat of rough sex. Lewd noises, loud moaning, and the sound of hot panting breath. If you’re against the wall, his fingers will be digging into your hip fat. Leaving burning, tingling markings on the tender fat there. When looking in a mirror hours later it’ll still be there. Sucking and marking up your neck, chest and whatever else he can get a hold of. He loves to slap your ass and see a hot, red, welt impression of his large hand on your soft cheek. He finds marking you up incredibly sexy and it makes him all the more feral. When you sink your nails into his back, leaving long, red stokes on his back, he lets out such a deep, husky groan it makes your pretty little pussy quiver. Bakugo will lean down, nibble on your earlobe, lick up on the cartilage of your ear, A gentle low rumbling chuckle escaping him and huskily ask,

“Do you like that baby? Do you like when I groan for you? M’ fuck you till you can’t fucking walk. This pussy is mine now and your gonna know it too.”

Third of all, and the final head cannon. This man has a praise kink. I absolutely can’t be convinced otherwise. For how bad this man struggles with an inferiority complex, he loves being praised. He will never admit that he loves praise and will constantly down play your praise by saying “Yeah I know!” Or “Of course m’ the best.” Nonetheless he acts like he’s above it because my man here also has a pride issue. But he’ll play that shit on loop all day long. Doesn’t matter if it’s rough sex, a quickie, gentle sex, whatever, he loves hearing you praise him. Anything from telling him how good he feels, how sexy he is, or how he has the body of a god, he wants to hear it. He loves how dirty you get with it sometimes and simply can’t get enough of it.

[brainrot28]

based off real life theology class

people in the 1940s: do you struggle with same sex attraction?

nico: I don't struggle with same sex attraction......

nico [with sunglasses]: i excel at it

[kaizokuou-ni-naru]

I'm curious how Zoros fight with King comes across in Japanese, especially his declaration of being king of hell

so what i find really exciting and interesting about this development is something i do think is somewhat obscured in translation, which is now it sets up zoro as a parallel and successor to rayleigh.

rayleigh's epithet in japanese is 冥王/meiou, which is generally translated into english as 'dark king,' since that's the literal translation of the kanji. however, 冥王/meiou/'dark king' is also the term used in japanese to refer to hades/pluto, the greek and roman god of the underworld. the king of hell, in other words.

as we know, zoro's newest sword, the one that was formerly oden's and which he struggles with throughout this fight, is named 閻魔/enma. this is also the name of a king of hell- enma is another name for yama, the buddhist wrathful deity of the underworld.

after answering king's challenge and saying that yes, he does have the will to become a king himself in order to fulfill his promises, zoro starts using the word 閻王/enou in his attack names, a word which the manga emphasizes to show its importance. this is another title of yama, and also mirrors rayleigh's epithet basically exactly, being a two-kanji name of a deity seen as the king of hell, where the second kanji is 王/ou ('king').

rayleigh is associated with hades, zoro is associated with yama. both are kings of hell- zoro is just somewhat more buddhist about it, which is fitting, given his wano heritage and his trend of invoking buddhist theology in his attack names. i would not at all be surprised if, if zoro ever does get a new epithet to replace his old kaizokugari/'pirate hunter' one, it's 閻王/enou.