#The Sin Nature Within the Christian

[compassionmattersmost]

The Divine Within: Jesus’ Teachings on Our True Nature

In many Christian teachings, the concept of sin often overshadows the more empowering messages found within the Scriptures. Yet, Jesus’ words offer profound insights into the divine nature inherent in each of us. By revisiting his teachings, we can uncover a more uplifting understanding of our spiritual identity. John 14:20: “On that day you will realize that I am in my Father, and you are in…

[alpaca-clouds]

Let me talk about Mizrak

Yeah, this with all the entire Nocturne brainrot is going to continue for a couple more days at least. But the show has so many interesting themes and characters and I just love it so much. And after getting all my friends to watch the show, I got surprised by one of them being super angry about Mizrak.

Why? Well, because of the last scene with him and Olrox in the season and his words of: "You are just an animal that lost its soul centuries ago." And the friend considered that "being an asshole" and "cruel".

To which I say: Cruel? Yes. Asshole? No.

Let me explain.

First, let me make one thing clear: No, Mizrak is not a templar. I have seen that one too many times. He is not a templar. He is a monk knight of the order of St. John, so the Knights Hospitaller. Like the templars they were very much tied to the crusades originally, but they are not the same thing. There were a lot of orders and types of knights associated with the crusades. Templars were just one of them. (Do you guys wanna hear more about the templars? I can talk more about them.)

We know from bits and pieces of dialogue that Mizrak originates in Jerusalem (which is also where the order was founded). This is a gentle reminder: Israel as we know it today was not a thing back then. But Jerusalem was always a place of religious conflict as it holds importance in all three Abrahamic religions. Which was, what the crusades were all about after all. Before the time of the French Revolution, though, there was mostly some a conflict between the Ottomans and some Arab forces over Palestine. There were some Christian orders accepted within the city though.

Now, the Knights Hospitaller, who were accepted in Jerusalem, had a strong connection to France. Which... lead to problems, when some of the Arabs and the French got into problems. Which let to the Knights Hospitaller leaving for Malta. This too is referenced in the dialogue. (If you guys cannot tell: I am very happy with the amount of historical research put into this show!)

Mizrak looks to be in his early 30s. So I assume he entered the order in his mid-teens (which was a usual age to enter an order like that) and then probably left for Malta within a couple of years after that when the political situation got more charged. And then from Malta to France.

The Knights Hospitaller back then for all intent and purposes lived as militarized monks. That means they made vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. And this very much shines through with his character in so many scenes.

Of course we see that the entire "chastity" thing does not work out that well for him. But that is also why he clearly is shown to be conflicted about that entire thing. What he tries to uphold, though, is the obedience aspect of his vows. And that is, what his entire conflict is about.

See, what I love about this character is that there is all this delicious conflict.

I will iterate again: I grew up in a very, very conservative, strict, catholic household. Other kids got read fairytales for bedtime. My mother read me the bible. Priests and monks were people we intermingled with a lot. (Heck, the last pope? I met him when he was still a bishop.) And hence I got to make one very clear experience: There are three types of Catholics: Those, who focus on all the horrible things. Those, who focus on the literal stuff written in the bible. And those, who focus on the positive stuff. You know, the stuff with helping people, and being poor, and sharing, and being in general a good person. (Though the three types are not always mutually exclusive.)

And it is pretty clear that Mizrak is of the latter kind. He believes in the good he can do through his faith in God and Christ. But he has also grown up in an Order and a Church that puts a lot of focus on the idea of sin, on the idea of obedience, and the idea of the "natural order".

But there he is, with his Abbot collaborating with demons and vampires to enforce that "natural order", which among other things goes against their own vow of poverty. This is so clearly against Mizrak's believes. Because in his very core, Mizrak is a good fucking man. He is one of the good guys. Who wants to do good through his faith in God. And this conflicts for him.

So by the end of episode 7 he reached the point to go against his vow of obedience, because his faith in doing good was stronger, than his dedication to his vows. He very actively broke his vows in the eyes of his order, standing against his order, to protect those darn kids. Because it was the right thing to do. He is absolutely willing to do the noble sacrifice if that is what it takes to save those kids. And in comes that weird dude and takes this chance from him.

And his entire thing with Olrox... It seems very much that Mizrak is indeed gay. As the series so helpfully points out: Yeah, priests, monks, other clergy, and their vows of chastity were always a thing that rarely worked out. Again, as someone who grew up with close ties to the church: The fact that everyone is secretly fucking is... well known. As well as the fact that yeah, there are a lot of gay clergy. Mostly for the reason that they are shamed for their sexuality and then take the vows to not be tempted into homosexuality. Only to find that a priest school with a lot of other queer supressed men is exactly the place you do not want to be to not be tempted. (And that is all without going into all the non-con, pedophilia and what not. Things that were also already happening back then, I guarantee you.)

So, try to imagine that entire thing from Mizrak's perspective. There he is, already ashamed and suppressed about all of that and in comes this very, very seductive vampire man, who kinda seems to align with some of his values, but not with others. And who is emotionally unavailable as fuck, outright telling him that he does not love our dear Mizrak. Someone, who clearly is not for the vampires and your abbot, but also clearly not willing to take the other side. The side that you in your heart (even though it means standing against your order) know to be right. And this man, who claims to not love you, then comes in and tries to stop you from doing what is right.

Yeah, no fuck, Mizrak is a bit pissed at him. Especially as in that moment Olrox very clearly goes against Mizrak's ideals, that are all about self-sacrificially doing the right thing.

And I do think that Mizrak is right in one regard: Olrox lost his soul. He lost a part of himself. Through the trauma of colonialism, but he lost it never the less.

So, once more: Thanks the team for giving us another interesting, well-rounded religious character! CV already did so well with Isaac and Mizrak is sofar extremely promising in that regard.

[blackstarlineage]

Acceptance of Eurocentric Beauty Standards Over Natural Black Beauty: A Garveyite Perspective

Introduction: The Weaponization of Beauty Against Black Identity

One of the most psychologically damaging consequences of colonialism and white supremacy is the widespread internalization of Eurocentric beauty standards by Black people. Across the African diaspora, darker skin, kinky hair, broad noses, and full lips have been demonized, ridiculed, and erased in favor of lighter skin, straighter hair, and more “European” features.

From a Garveyite perspective, this preference for whiteness is not natural—it was forced onto Black people through centuries of oppression, cultural erasure, and mental conditioning. The elevation of white and mixed-race aesthetics over natural Black beauty is a form of psychological warfare, designed to:

Make Black people see themselves as inferior.

Encourage self-hate and division within Black communities.

Keep Black people mentally dependent on white validation.

If Black people do not decolonize their beauty standards, they will continue to reject their natural greatness, support industries that profit from their insecurities, and weaken the global movement for Black self-determination.

1. The Historical Roots of Eurocentric Beauty Standards in the Black World

A. The Psychological War Against Black Beauty During Slavery and Colonialism

European colonizers knew that a people who love themselves could not be conquered—so they launched a direct attack on Black physical features.

During slavery and colonization, Black people were:

Compared to animals and portrayed as ugly and subhuman.

Taught that white or mixed-race people were more beautiful, intelligent, and desirable.

Forced to associate their natural Black features with inferiority and low social status.

Example: The "paper bag test" was used in America and the Caribbean to determine who was "light enough" to enter elite social spaces—proving that beauty was directly linked to proximity to whiteness.

Key Takeaway: The demonization of Black beauty was not accidental—it was a strategic method of oppression.

B. The Role of Religion in Enforcing White Beauty Ideals

Christianity played a major role in promoting whiteness as the standard of beauty and morality.

European religious imagery depicted:

A white Jesus, white angels, and white saints, reinforcing the idea that divinity and goodness are linked to whiteness.

Darkness as evil and undesirable, making Blackness subconsciously associated with sin.

Example: Many Black churches still display white images of Jesus, despite historical evidence that Jesus was not European.

Key Takeaway: Religious iconography was used to make Black people hate their own image and see whiteness as divine.

2. The Modern Consequences of Worshipping Eurocentric Beauty Standards

A. Skin Bleaching and the Self-Hate Industry

The global skin-bleaching industry is worth billions of dollars, proving that millions of Black people feel pressured to lighten their skin to be accepted.

Skin bleaching is:

Extremely harmful to the body, causing diseases, skin thinning, and internal organ damage.

A direct reflection of mental slavery, proving that many Black people still associate lighter skin with higher value.

Pushed by corporations and celebrities, making it appear “normal” and "desirable."

Example: Skin bleaching is most common in Africa, the Caribbean, and South Asia, proving that colonial beauty standards are still in effect worldwide.

Key Takeaway: When Black people bleach their skin, they are erasing their African identity and reinforcing white supremacy.

B. The Erasure of Natural Black Hair

Black hair has always been a political issue, with Black people facing:

Workplace discrimination for wearing afros, locs, or braids.

Pressure to relax, straighten, or wear wigs to “fit in” with white society.

Shame and teasing from their own communities for wearing natural hair.

Example: Many Black schools ban natural hairstyles, forcing Black children to conform to European hair standards.

Key Takeaway: When Black people reject their natural hair, they are subconsciously rejecting their African heritage.

C. Preference for European Facial Features in Beauty and Media

Western beauty standards promote:

Thin noses, small lips, and Eurocentric facial structures as the most attractive.

“Ambiguously Black” and mixed-race people as the ideal Black beauty, pushing out darker-skinned, full-featured Black models.

Surgeries and cosmetic procedures to make Black people look more “acceptable” in white society.

Example: Many Black celebrities undergo nose surgeries and facial alterations to fit into Hollywood’s Eurocentric beauty standards.

Key Takeaway: True Black beauty is African—not a modified version of whiteness.

3. The Role of Media in Promoting Anti-Black Beauty Ideals

A. Hollywood and the Music Industry as Tools of Psychological Warfare

The media constantly uplifts Eurocentric beauty while suppressing authentic Black aesthetics.

Darker-skinned Black women are rarely cast as romantic leads, while mixed-race or light-skinned actresses dominate.

Black men are encouraged to date lighter-skinned or non-Black women, reinforcing the idea that darker-skinned women are undesirable.

Black musicians promote white or ambiguous beauty in their lyrics, further brainwashing the youth.

Example: Even in Black-centered films, Hollywood chooses biracial actors to represent Blackness, instead of casting fully Black actors.

Key Takeaway: The media is one of the biggest forces keeping Black people mentally enslaved to white beauty standards.

B. Social Media and the Digital Reinforcement of Eurocentric Beauty

Social media filters and beauty trends promote:

Skin-lightening, facial editing, and nose slimming filters, reinforcing European standards.

Self-hatred among Black youth, who grow up believing they are “less attractive” if they don’t fit Eurocentric beauty norms.

The glorification of mixed-race aesthetics, sidelining fully African features.

Example: Studies show that Black girls as young as 5 years old already experience self-esteem issues due to beauty standards.

Key Takeaway: Social media is shaping the next generation’s perception of beauty—Black people must reclaim their own image.

4. The Garveyite Solution: Reclaiming and Celebrating Natural Black Beauty

A. African-Centered Beauty Education

Black communities must teach children to love their natural skin, hair, and features from a young age.

Schools and community centers must include Black beauty history in their curriculum, educating youth on:

African hairstyles and their historical significance.

The dangers of skin bleaching and Eurocentric beauty norms.

The importance of embracing one’s natural identity.

Example: In Africa and the Caribbean, beauty campaigns promoting natural Black aesthetics must be prioritized over Western influences.

Key Takeaway: If Black children are not taught to love themselves, they will grow up worshipping whiteness.

B. Black-Owned Beauty Industries

Black entrepreneurs must take control of the beauty industry by:

Creating natural hair and skincare products that embrace African features.

Investing in Black-owned cosmetic companies instead of relying on white-dominated corporations.

Promoting darker-skinned Black models to counter the whitewashing of beauty.

Example: The rise of Black-owned beauty brands like Fenty Beauty is a step toward self-representation.

Key Takeaway: Black beauty must be owned, controlled, and promoted by Black people.

Conclusion: Will We Continue Worshipping White Beauty, or Reclaim Our African Identity?

Marcus Garvey said:

"Take the kinks out of your mind, not your hair."

Will Black people continue supporting industries that profit from their insecurities?

Will we teach our children to love their natural Blackness, or allow them to be brainwashed by Eurocentric media?

Will we control our own beauty standards, or remain mentally enslaved to white validation?

The Choice is Ours. The Time is Now.

[feather-bone]

Hey, I’m just reaching out to people on Tumblr. You’ve probably heard of Jesus and God, but have you ever reached out to Jesus for problems in your life? Big or small. Not to make you uncomfortable, but did you know sin (in your life and other people’s lives) can really hurt you, it make feel like there is a void that is never satisfied. That void could be called a “God sized hole.” Sin sucks and not just in a societal cookie cutter way, but in a way that it feels like there is a decay within a person. That can be a lot to take in, but I hope it is good food for thought. I hope you’re having an awesome day!! 💕

Answering this only because I went to Catholic school pre-K-high school, and it hurt me, and now I'm a pretty poorly adjusted adult who's had to do his own self-help work to get myself to an okay mental place. So I have a thought I want to share on this topic.

I don't care about your Christian god at all. He is none of my business. Y'all have constructed a guy malleable enough for political use, but the spirit of the world is much bigger than that construction. What does the god of ants look like? What does the god of stars look like? We think we can know the divine because we want a tangable relationship with the spiritual, but the guy y'all have made up is one I do not want a relationship with.

My inner demons aren't things separate from myself that need exorcising. They didn't come from the devil. Life is challenging, and humans respond to pain in a variety of ways - some of which the Christians will tell you is sinful. There's a good point in here about introspection, caring for yourself, taking care to do no harm, but if you find that hole in your heart where the natural decay of living has started to hurt from the inside, there are other ways to mend it. Im friends with my sin. I'm coming to terms with the cruelty of the outside world, as well. The pain of living things is interconnected - if I hurt you, it rebounds and hurts me too - but I no longer think of these things within the framework of Christian morality.

I recommend putting that framework away, if you've been stuck in it for a while. Go touch grass, watch a hawk kill and eat a squirrel, remember that we are borrowing life from the earth and will go back to it when we're done - there's no guarantee of an afterlife except the life your bones feed to the grubs and mushrooms that bloom from your corpse, so let's take a minute to feel that divine relationship that For Sure exists.

If you need to pick your religious community and comfort back up after that, do what ye will. But harm none. Also, proselytizing is annoying.

[astra-ravana]

The Practice Of Demonolatry

Demonolatry, the communion, summoning, and worship of demons, is a complex and often misunderstood practice with roots in ancient history. While it's difficult to pinpoint the exact origin, early forms of demon work can be traced back to pre-Christian cultures, where spirits and deities were often associated with both positive and negative aspects of the natural world.

In the Abrahamic traditions, demons are typically portrayed as fallen angels or evil spirits, often associated with temptation, sin, chaos, misfortune, and death. However, in some occult and esoteric practices, demons are viewed as powerful beings who can grant knowledge, power, and protection to those who understand how to work with them. The word "demon" comes from the ancient Greek "daemon" which literally meant "divine entity" or "minor god". Many demons are, in fact, disgraced pagan gods who met with the limited understanding of early Christians. Due to events such as the crusades and prevalent witch hunts throughout history, information pertaining to demons was likely supressed or destroyed entirely.

The Renaissance period, however, saw a resurgence of interest in demonology, with figures like Johann Weyer and Reginald Scot challenging the prevailing view of demons as purely evil entities. These thinkers argued that many cases of demonic possession could be attributed to mental illness or other natural causes. In the 19th and 20th centuries, demonolatry experienced a revival within certain occult and esoteric circles. Figures like Aleister Crowley, Anton LaVey and other practitioners of Satanism and Theistic Satanism incorporated demonic entities into their rituals and beliefs. These modern forms of demonolatry often emphasize personal empowerment, self-reliance, and the exploration of darker aspects of the human psyche.

Modern demonolaters such as S. Connolly, Michael W. Ford, and Satan and Suns are now helping transition demonaltry from obscure occult practice to every day magick. It is a diverse and multifaceted system, with a wide range of beliefs and practices. There is much to be gained when interacting with these powerful, otherworldly energies. Some practitioners view demons as literal entities, while others interpret them as archetypes or psychological forces. Regardless of their specific beliefs, demonolators often share a fascination with the occult, the supernatural, and the darker side of human nature (or the shadow).

Demonolatry as a practice or magickal rite is an almost unmatched catalyst for change, transformation, growth, knowledge, magickal ability and more. A connection to the demonic divine is a portal to the universe and understanding the true nature and origins of life. Doing your research is key, but there is no better teacher in this case than experience. Its hard to understand how natural and comforting demonic connection can feel without actually feeling it first hand. Letting go of preprogrammed fears and expectations to leap bravely into the dark may not be easy and it's not for everyone, but it is one of the most freeing and enlightening experiences one can have. So... What are you afraid of?

[cultkinkcoven]

People ask me all the time why I’m not a Christian. Why would I possibly be pagan? I claim to know all this stuff about the Bible but I somehow don’t subscribe to it? Do I not believe in Jesus’ teachings?

You wanna know the real reason why I personally feel compelled to not be a Christian? It’s not because I disagree with certain laws or think that Jesus didn’t have any valuable teachings. Despite my differences in opinion on morality, things like being lgbtq, the role of a woman, the importance of witchcraft etc, I could get over all that nitpicky stuff if I felt truly inspired by the story.

There are only two real reasons why I don’t subscribe to the Christian doctrine

1. Return to a perfect past

I find it hard to conceptualize a God that refers to his people as his slaves and servants, I have a lot to say about the doctrine that is supremacy, which lays the foundation for Christian theology, but beyond that, this idea of “God is all good and the only reason anything negative ever happens is because Satan brought death and sin into the world” is actually a very interesting idea to me. Like no, evil and death isn’t natural at all you’re just so used to living in an evil world that you can no longer recognize the original creation. God tells us to turn away from the world because the world is no longer his perfect creation but an amalgamation of his creation with the evil of Satan and man.

I like this idea, but I also think it’s incredibly flawed. It’s typical for many religions to glamorize the ancient past, and believe that there is a perfect beginning.

I think about when my bf buys me roses, I immediately hang them out to dry and let them die. Somehow they seem more beautiful to me that way, in an eternal state of dead perfection, wilted and faded, but somehow still alive in some way. Death doesn’t do us part, I can appreciate them forever though death and beyond. I think about moldy bread, how disgusted it makes me, but how fascinating it is to view up close when you actually pay attention.

In a pre-sin/death world, dead, dried roses and moldy bread wouldn’t be a thing. Is a world without death perfect? Is eternal life greater than eternity in death? Is a painless world perfect to a masochist?

I think that ancient peoples romanticized the past for the same reason we do, they weren’t there. Somehow, it’s more comfortable to believe we fucked up somewhere along the way, and if we could just figure out what it was, we could return to that state of perfection.

One of my favourite stories is Paradise Lost. Within it, when Adam and Eve are banished from the garden of eden, there is a very powerful exchange between the two, wherein Adam says to Eve, despite our sins and the wickedness of the world, I will still love you. You are still the queen of eden to me. We still have each other. The true testament of love is being able to love even in the face of adversity.

Although tragic, I believe this is what humanity has always been doing. Perhaps we didn’t come from a perfect beginning, perhaps we crawled our way to the top of the evolutionary ladder with white knuckles. Perhaps the world has always been perfectly imperfect, and we have still managed to find this divine love along the way. I don’t see the point in desperately trying to go backwards, when these experiences have only made us stronger. The tragedy is the acceptance of cause and effect. Is suffering a perfect invention because liberation was born from it? Christianity says it’s not, that the cost of human suffering was not worth whatever we gained, that satan made an unnecessary and frivolous mistake. I struggle to conceptualize world in which the entirety of human history as it has played out has been a cosmological mistake.

I believe that we are children finding our way, slowly, very fucking slowly, but surely.

and this leads into my second reason.

I honestly don’t really have anything against Jesus Christ. In my mind he is an entirely neutral character, not because I don’t believe in his existence, but because if I believe he is real, I pity him more than anything else.

In my opinion, Jesus Christ’s sacrifice, though a very beautiful and interesting philosophical idea, did not save humanity, and did not set us free. It didn’t save the world and it does not provide us with the tools to save the world.

Within the Christian theology, no man can get to God except through Christ. This is because Jesus died for our sins, he payed the price so we could see salvation. God so loved the world that he gave his only son, so that all those who believe in him may have eternal life. Christianity fundamentally operates on the idea that the sacrifice of the most pure, most innocent, is the necessary price to pay for the salvation of everyone. To deliver humanity from sin, the most virtuous human had to be sacrificed. Humanity had to essentially spiritually cannibalize itself, eat the body and drink the blood of Jesus to be cleansed. And I honestly, absolutely despise that idea.

I say I pity Jesus, not only because of the way his legacy has been bastardized and fetishized on a global scale, (Jesus was God but he was also a human, at one time he was a child. Imagine being a 10 year old Jesus and knowing the implications of your existence) but also because I don’t think his sacrifice saved the world, I don’t think it saved me. Spiritual salvation is a plan to bail everyone out after they die, after revelations. There is no plan to save this world because at least theologically, God does not have faith in humanity to save this world. Jesus’ plan is an escape plan, one that comes to save all the righteous while the wicked burn for eternity.

I disagree, and maybe it’s my naivety. I believe that we can save this world, not by casting out the wicked, but by collectively doing the basic human fundamental, just loving each other. The key to save the world has always been simple. Love has never been a popular movement. Every conflict in all of humanity would be resolved if we all saw each other as kin. Disentangling the systems of oppression and supremacy that have always rotten the world. That means fighting evil, that means tragedy and violence. But just as we have taught ourselves many doctrines over the centuries, I believe, or hope, with enough time, we can teach ourselves a doctrine of love and empathy. I believe most humans are capable of this. And I believe that we can have extra humanity to handle and disarm those that aren’t.

“but Jesus tried to do that and humans killed him!”

They killed Huey P. Newton too. We keep on fighting. Not because we want to be assured in death that we are good people. But because, if there is a chance for a world in which children can sleep on fields of grass and the words “war” and “hunger” are ancient memories, where trees whose names I know can grow as tall as the heavens and water is always clean, then I will fight my hardest to push the world towards that future. And if I die before I see it, then I hope you keep on pushing for me. That is the love that humanity has for itself, and there is no God that can do that for us.

The Bible says that God so loved the world that he gave his only son. I wish that God so loved the world that he came to fight alongside all his children, and didn’t give up until he had finally touched the heart of every human, made them understand the value of this world, the world we have right now, and the life we have right now before it is engulfed in flames. You, all powerful God, could not change the hearts of men? Because they refused you? Because they, in their ignorance, embraced the world that birthed them, and not the stranger that abandoned it? Shook it up and started over, again, because the mess was too ugly to clean up? I don’t believe you.

There are multiple times in the Bible where it says that humans are evil, and I simply don’t believe it. People are born with mental disorders and acclimate to trauma, but I do not believe that people are born evil, and I don’t believe in a God who lets his children burn. Whether that be in a fiery Hell or in the dark separation from light.

It is only through knowledge that we have disabled these beliefs in evil people. You aren’t possessed by demons, you have BPD. You’re not evil, you have autism. We can understand each other if we only take the time to try. And understanding is the one thing that humanity has always craved.

We are children, we are born without understanding and come to know the world as it interacts with us. We have the infinite potential to learn and that’s what makes us so special as a species. Humans, these insatiably curious creatures who will not stop until they have seen every star, turned over every rock, and documented every crevice of the ocean floor. What better creature to inhabit the earth, and who else to save it?

If Jesus died for my sins, thanks. I didn’t ask you to do that, and I’m not going to depend on it. If there truly is a God that is good, then I will prove myself to him though my actions and love towards his creation. And if he deduces that I am evil, I will not use the shedded blood of the innocent to rectify myself. I’m sick in dealing in blood, I don’t have to think in the same terms as a War God.

Idk, maybe that’s just the Luciferian in me.

[capricorn-0mnikorn]

How much of our scientific thinking has an unconscious religious bias?

This is in response to this post, from @headspace-hotel, about campaigns to eradicate Hybrid Cattails as an "Invasive Species," even though both individual species hybridizing themselves are native plants (But I didn't want to muddy a discussion about science with a rant about religion. So: a separate post it is)

I sometimes wonder if our dominant views of "natural vs. unnatural/invasive" were shaped, are shaped, by the particular theologies of Protestant Christianity...

You Know, the theology that teaches / believes:

Our world was created by a single, all-knowing god

Humanity Fell by disobeying that god, and thus tainted the world with Sin (so Humans are now apart from Nature [aka the Garden of Eden])

The Protestant Christians fetishized the North American Continent as an example of what Eden was like "Before the Fall," and the people who were already living here were Noble Savages.*

So now, anything that evolves in response to human influence (such as brackish cattails hybridizing with freshwater cattails), is considered "unnatural," as if it's been tainted by our sin.

I sometimes wonder what our environmental understanding would be like in an alternate universe where the sciences had evolved in a polytheistic culture.** Would we be more generally accepting of the idea of coexisting forces constantly intertwining, and changing, rather than there being a single, fixed, "pure" world, that must be protected from contamination?

[BTW. I've become an atheist in this last third of my life, so I don't think any one religion is "more true" than any other: they're all metaphors that help us frame and understand the actual world we live in; they are very powerful metaphors, and for some, can be helpful and emotionally healthy ... for others, not so much.]

*(even though the abundant environment the colonizers found here was actually deliberately managed and curated by humans -- it's just that it wasn't managed in the form of fenced off square plots, and straight rows of crops).

**If you don't believe scientific thinking can evolve within a polytheistic paradigm, check out (what survives of) the writings of Democritus and Epicurus. Their philosophies weren't following what we now consider the Scientific Method, but they were already drifting in that direction.

[shrine-of-the-theoi]

Miasma- A Deviation from Devotion.

Key:-

spiritual or moral defilement

translation: "pollution" or "stain"

deeply ingrained in both Greek philosophical and religious thought with the implementations ranging from individual guilt to contamination of entire families or cities.

a contagious power that has a life of its own and clogs the mind, diverting it from devotion.

from Oedipus Rex- plague is a result of religious pollution and that God Apollo requests the people of Thebes to exile the previously unknown miasma- a sense of moral noxious pollution. [1]

.°. Miasma isn't just physical dirt but spiritual and moral contamination. Acts of violence particularly murder we're considered a major source of miasma but it could also arise from transgression against divine law or even the Gods themselves, hubris, and intended disruption to social norms and causing disbalance to the natural order of the cosmos. It can also be summed up as emotions such as hatred, rage, anguish, disrespect, arrogance or anything that clouds one's judgement causing dehumanisation. [2]

Now, apart from this, bodily fluids are miasmic. Now I had to undergo a HUGE LOAD of research as to why are these excretions miasmic. And I think what I found isn't a solid definite doctrine but much of a logical explanation. However, I won't be discussing about the cleansing of miasma in much detail here. [3]

We maybe aware that Hellenism doesn't have a set of definitive rules or doctrines as is the case for Abrahamic religions. Therefore there isn't much from which infos can be gathered. Also Hellenism is free from the concept of "sin" as is prevalent in Christianity (no offence intended). And to incur the wrath of the Gods is actually a rarity well unless ofc one has committed grave crimes like murder or SA or any kind of violence that is harmful for the society. That and in other cases hubris, are situations in which the Gods will be actually angry and the person then may have to face miasma resulting from heavenly wrath which we can term as Agos- extreme case of moral corruption. [4]

Therefore we can come to the conclusion from this that miasma isn't something which has been rebuked by the Gods because it's a sin, but it is something which tends to clog our sound mind and deviate us from the path of devotion and leads us to a immoral path. The Gods are aware that in a lifetime of a human, one is bound to accumulate miasma because we're not perfect like Them. And that is why They do not condemn it as a "sin". [5]

Miasma that arises from mourning/ grieving

Think of this as visiting the hospital (unless ofc it's your daily profession cuz NO the Gods don't consider that as miasmic cuz well, first- a person's livelihood is something which is to be held in high regards and the Gods are understanding and won't mix up professional lives of their devotees with the intention and devotion that lies within them. Second, there is a hole line of Gods associated with healing so nope hospital personnels aren't miasmic). Anyways, coming back, in a hospital when we visit maybe some near and dear, our minds are torn between worries for the future and wellbeing of our loved ones. We might at times feel helpless or hopeless - THIS ....this feeling of hopelessness, melancholy or grieving is the miasma. So does that mean we shouldn't pray to the Gods for the wellbeing of our family and relatives? No. Absolutely not! ONE. CAN. PRAY. DESPITE. THE. CIRCUMSTANCES. Because the Gods are equally ears to the prayers of a person in hospital as well as the one in a shrine. [6]

Now say suppose you come back from the hospital. General instinct is, to wash your hands and feet and change into fresh clothes to avoid getting any sort of infection. It's all a matter of cleanliness. Ofc a nurse who's changed the diapers of an elderly patient or a baby, won't go about worshipping Lord Apollo with unwashed hands. Remember, whatever brings an "ew" from within yourself, isn't definitely how you should be approaching the Gods. So won't the nurse have to change their clothes? No!! BECAUSE. THE. GODS. UNDERSTAND. [7]

Same is the case for graveyard miasma. Now for this, I'll resort to what witchcraft has taught me. We, leave a bit of our presence everywhere we go. Suppose one visits the grave of a loved one. Ofc the person mourns their loss. On their way back, some residual energy still remains. That's the Miasma of the graveyard which often clings to us AND no matter what anyone says, anyone who visits the graveyard, be it to visit or just without a reason is BOUND to feel a subtle melancholy from being present their. Better to cleanse to remove this SPIRITUAL miasma. Scientifically, you SHOULD wash your hands and all after visiting cemetery or a graveyard. [8]

Now you may come across the fact that mourning the loss of someone is miasmic. And yes it is. For this I'd draw reference from the 5th paragraph of this post. When mourning, it is obvious that what goes through our minds are memories and moments spent with the late member/ pet. Ofc our mind isn't in the place to pray. By and by as we're a bit stabilised out of the grieving, we maybe/ may not splash some water on our faces to drown the tears. And gradually console ourselves AND THEN pray to the Gods for their safe after life. This I'll say this again- MIASMA IS SOMETHING WHICH DEVIATES OUR MIND FROM THE GODS. [9]

Miasma- the dirt.

Think of it like you being a host of your guests at your house. Say suppose you're working in your garden and your guests arrive. What do you do first? You get in, wash your hands and offer them refreshments. Now another day say suppose you're stacking the dried dishes on the wrack and some relative stops by. First instinct tells us to offer them the refreshments. Its just about cleanliness. When you feel like maybe some dust or something has actually made your hands dirty or soiled and from within you feel like it's better not to pray or give offerings to the Gods, listen to yourself then. [10]

How are bodily fluids miasmic?

Let's say, we're in an urgent need to pee/poop. As soon as we find a restroom, we rush in and relieve ourselves. Ofc at that moment, the Gods aren't the primary thoughts in our brain but a rather huff of contentment. Secondly, imagine not washing your hands after that but proceeding to pop a chicken nuggets in. Disgusting, right? So if it is disgusting for us humans, why would it EVER be okay to worship the Gods like that. Please wash your hands then. [11]

Next, let's say we trip on a pebble and fall, a result of which, our elbow is scratches and bruised and it burns as well. What do we do? We get some water and wash the blood and dirt off and wait for it to heal. Here the blood but rather the PAIN is miasmic cuz when in pain, majority of our consciousness is focused solely on the PAIN no matter how much "Oh Gods" we spell. That is why we wait for the blood to stop and in a deeper sense, for the pain to fade a little before we can pray for the wound to heal. Think of scorching summer heat. One is irritated to even think especially near the tropics and equator. While one may pray to the Gods for a relieving downpour, it's evident that we sweat. And ofcourse after coming home a shower sounds nice after the sweat and dirt. Thus sweat is miasmic too because while we swipe off our sweat with a napkin, the irritation from the mere fact that we're sweating remains. [12]

Next, childbirth. Yes that's miasmic. Then again the reason is the same. PAIN which keeps a lot of the woman's conscious focus to itself. Believe it, a few days after childbirth, a mother looks and feels like she's been through havoc. And not in the physical, emotional or any condition to be offering to the Gods. But does that mean a mother of two days can't pray to the Gods for the wellbeing of herself and her child? NO!! OFC NOT!! Provided she has the strength to pray and feel the grace of the Gods, which, without saying is always present on each one of us. [13]

Now now, the big issue- menstruation. In ancient Greece, men were scared to shit because who even stays alive after bleeding for seven days straight. That's the result they considered the very natural phenomenon as miasmic and a disruption of order of natural law. Today, I'd say miasma of menstruation lies in the excruciating pain that is felt. Nothing else. It's simply the pain and as someone who has to deal with it for two days straight every month, I don't even feel like opening my eyes and come back to my senses, let alone praying. [14]

Lastly, is sex miasmic? Yes it is ...cuz...the couple would rather prefer basking in the afterglow rather than praying and also... WHY WILL ONE PRAY TO A GOD WITH UNWASHED HANDS AFTER THE ORDEAL? IT'S DISGUSTING. Thirdly, you'll ofc want to bring Lady Aphrodite in this scenario cuz of obvious reasons and so I'll tell you for the love of my Lady. You can dedicate the immediate feeling of pleasure to the lady provided that's what you're associating Her with. But please don't stay under the miscommunication that it's okay to make offerings or praying without a clean up session. [15]

So what about animal sacrifice?

It was considered a part of Xenia in Hellenism. Red meat in ancient Greece was available to the rich and sophisticated. So ofc these sacrifices were made by a selected section of the society. Now if suppose you're someone sophisticated and decide to do the act in a shrine, by doing so you're actually letting the ones who can't afford red meat, get their hands on it. So that's community service and not miasmic. BUT THAT DOESN'T PROMOTE INTENTIONAL ANIMAL SLAUGHTER OR MALICE TOWARDS INNOCENT ANIMALS. [16]

Are tears miasmic?

Well sometimes it is. Sometimes not. See crying to Gods can't be miasmic in any sense. We can cry in the embrace of Gods. But that should be purely to take the pain off. Crying and then wishing bad to the cause which hurt us- that is miasmic. Similarly when we're extremely elated and happy and feel like crying to the Gods and thank them- that's not miasmic. But say suppose while worshipping, somewhere in your mind, you go like "Damn I must tell (some person) real quick" that's miasmic. Ofc the Gods won't be mad if you cry your eyes and hearts out to them. [17]

Yes we can worship the Gods in cars, trains, buses, on the bed before going to sleep provided we're completely and utterly pulled to it. On the bed, let's say we're praying to Lord Hypnos for a peaceful sleep and Lady Athena for a good day ahead when we wake up but in the back of the mind, we're worried about pending assignments, how many hours of sleep well actually get, or are in a rush to sleep. That's not how it works. We can ofc pray to the Gods in a car or train but if at the back of our mind we're occupied with thoughts which keeps tugging at us while we pray- that's miasmic. Deviation from devotion is the actual miasma and it has always been. It clouds our judgement, clogs our sane mind, imbibes hubris, holds us back from embracing the grace of Gods on an extreme level. [18]

And this is where I've ended my research on miasma. Hope this post helps anyone who's looking up on the topic. Thanks to Lady Athena and Lord Hermes for helping me dig up infos and related my understanding with the facts. May Lord Hypnos now bless all of us with a peaceful rest. Khaire. All credits to the sources where I've stumbled across the facts and infos. [19]

[yieldfruit]

I have met men often who do not want to date me because I tell them I believe sex is for marriage and I wouldn't live with a man before marriage and have a deep conviction that sex is only within the context of marriage.

Let them go.

If a man makes sleeping with him a prerequisite for a relationship, he is debased no matter how nice or appealing he can be.

Marriage should be honored by all, and the marriage bed kept pure, for God will judge the adulterer and all the sexually immoral. Hebrews 13:4 Or do you not know that wrongdoers will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: Neither the sexually immoral nor idolaters nor adulterers nor men who have sex with men. 1 Corinthians 6:9

I don't care about people's opinions or personal views, I stand on the Word of God, Scripture itself. Anything that deviates from Scripture regarding sex is wrong, and I can't wink and pretend and be a hypocrite. I have fallen short in the past regarding sexual purity as outlined clearly in God's Word; I rebelled due to my own sin nature and the mediocre cultural Christianity that looks no different than a person who doesn't know God at all. I know too much now, I know God's Word, and I want to please and obey Him. If a man wants sex before marriage, my heart feels sad for him. He should find a wife.

But because there is so much sexual immorality, each man should have his own wife, and each woman should have her own husband. 1 Corinthians 7:2

Women, you are not a prostitute to be slept with whenever a man or your boyfriend pleases. You are worthy of being pursued as a wife and having sex within marriage, not outside of it. You are not to be used. The same goes for men who experience pressure from women.

I don't mind when I see who the Lord does not have for me (which is most professing Christian men who profess to be a Christian, a follower of Christ, while spitting on His very Word saying they don't take it literally/it's not for them/they pick and choose what they like only). A professing Christian in word only is no Christian. If you desire to disobey God's Word and say you don't want to obey it, you are not a Christian, because you are not following Christ, you are following the god of yourself.

The Lord is my portion. I believe He has someone for me, and he won't be perfect, but neither am I. Yet we will share a mutual love for God's Word and desire deep down to live for Him and not ourselves as the final authority.

Women, don't let a man charm you or mislead you–if he is hissing deceit at you, stand on Scripture and leave if not yet married.

(Update, the next day: I drafted the above last night but generally don't post until the next day. I woke up to text messages from this guy who yesterday told me he won't date me due to wanting to wait for marriage. He is now saying how special I am, he told his friend of me who speaks highly of my character, etc. and that he wants to spend time with me....Okay. I have had this happen, they circle back. I think sometimes they do it because something in them does sense that there is integrity spiritually in waiting and they want to rise to the occasion, and sometimes they want to try and see how far we can go. They view it as a challenge. I'm kind, but firm, and I think we deviate in our reasons why for waiting. I want to obey and please God [simply obeying Scripture because of a heart + soul motivation]. Whereas they want to see if they can have integrity in this area because "I'm worth it" or see what they can get from me now that I'm off limits a bit...either way, we deviate in our motivation. I am kind in my responses, I invite them to my church which stands on Scripture, but I don't consider them a further option unless the Lord really did a work in their heart and life and conveyed therefore in their actions. I would never discount someone unless they are harassing, manipulative, aggressive, and/or demeaning in my desire for waiting for marriage. I have met wolves, and they creep me out, and I speak the truth and let them be.

Grateful that I am hidden in Christ, to know my worth/value in Christ, and to encourage other women to do the same. To not settle, beloved).

[incesthemes]

me, at the bar of the mexican restaurant eating $1 tacos sacrilegiously dipped in the complimentary salsa: once sam winchester becomes disillusioned with the christian god, his faith undergoes a transformation that is the genesis of dean's apotheosis. dean is sam's god, overbearing and righteous, enacting his divine judgment upon the evil of the world. and sam, the fallen angel looking up at the heavens contained within dean's eyes, longs for redemption of his sins, even as his nature commands he sin more. it's the destiny of the abomination and the righteous man; they were born into this fate and they are helpless to stop it. sam never loses his faith—he just finds a new god.

[grievous-writes]

𝔹𝕆ℕ𝔻𝔼𝔻 𝔹𝕐 𝕊𝕀ℕ

Part One - Part Three

What happens to cherubs when they fall? There was already the damning example of God's golden Seraphim, where his fall from grace landed him upon the burning throne of Hell; to rule for all of time. A curse and, weirdly enough, a blessing. But you, a lone cherub sent on a nearly impossible quest? You landed smack dab in the middle of a courtroom in session; complete with a stunned jury and judge with burning eyes. 

Fandoms: HelluvaBoss & HazbinHotelPairing: Female Reader / Fallen Cherub / “Asteria” x SatanGenre: SPICY RomanceRating: Mature +18

Tropes: slow burn, forbidden love, forced proximity, size difference, enemies to lovers, age gap, hurt & comfort, “Who did this to you?”, touch her and 💀

CWs: really possessive behavior, mild yandere, ALL THE SPICE, blood and gore, mentions of death, swearing, hard smut, personally RIP christianity to shreds, mild blood play, toxic people and situations, violence violence VIOLENCE, p in v, power imbalance, light dubcon, CNC (Honestly, just expect so much more down the line cause this story will develop out of control eventually!)

Notes: Reader is female (she/her), multi chapters, LONG posts and very little editing cause I HATE editing. I don’t know how to do TAGS quite yet, but let me know if you want to be notified for each update~

ℙ𝔸ℝ𝕋 𝕀𝕀 - 𝔸ℕℂ𝕀𝔼ℕ𝕋 𝕂𝕀ℕ

𝕎𝕆ℝ𝔻 ℂ𝕆𝕌ℕ𝕋 - 𝟚𝟠𝟝𝟟

Story continues after the cut ...

The first thing you felt when waking was hot air filling your lungs. It didn't hurt, didn’t burn, but as gasping you could taste it. The first flavor was strong of sulfur, sour and bitter, and it was joined by the smells of burning fire and aged leather. Heaven’s air had no scent, no smell; pure and untouched by mortal sins. You weren’t sure you liked breathing this in, but you had little choice now. You made your choice. 

You blinked away the darkness over your eyes and slowly sat up, recognizing the second sensation upon awakening was a weight on your neck and limbs. Those limbs that were still too long and foreign to you. On your neck, wrists, and ankles were rough, blackened metal cuffs, leading to chains that disappeared into the even darker space around you. Holding up your restaurants, you tried to read the glowing red language imprinted onto the metal. 

You recognized it as an ancient demonic language. The carved runes were angry, a dialect you had not kept skills to speak over the years. Which made a full translation impossible. You did your best still and got the jist that these binds were to suppress divine magic; infernal or angelic. As you ran your far-to-many fingers over the red letters, with bony knuckles, a curious thought entered your mind.

Whoever made these bindings knew one of oldest languages across space in time, and masterfully used it in a clever way. The enchantments, while infernal in base nature, were as divine as any celestial dialect. The creator of the cuffs surely knew that both the angels of Heaven and demons Hell shared direct divine bloodlines. And whoever wore the language, unholy or Unholy, would be subjected to a control nearly unbreakable. Someone wanted to make sure you didn’t get free.

Thankfully you had no such intentions.

Looking around yourself, you noticed a thin veil just out of reach; moving like oil splashed over black water. And beyond that was a constantly swirling sphere of golden bands, all marked with the same ancient language bore on your restraints. Now these symbols you knew better, still many Myrs old but at least more common. One entire band was dedicated to focusing an invisible funnel, used to both drain and implant power surges into whoever was placed within the sphere. Another band passed overhead and you saw it was crafted for branding. Another for sealing. And the smallest ring, set directly under you was what you assumed was the release mechanism to dispel all the bands. And it could only be done so from the outside.

When you lived on Earth, you had seen mortals try to depict angels as humans with wings. And only two small eyes. All of that was horribly inaccurate, and there was a weird irony that it took you coming to Hell to see something more genuine; even if it was a prison rather than a person. 

You managed to stand, if barely, and wobbled from foot to foot like a fawn freshly born. You almost fell forward to land smack-dab on your face, but you blanched out by your arms … and by the wings on your back. They were similar to the set you had before with familiar colors cast over long feathers, but you were shocked at seeing the upper knuckle bone tipped with a sharp talon. Emily said that you might change shape, as you had before on your ventures to Earth, but nothing prepared you for how sharp some of your features were now. 

Staggering to the oil wall, like an obsidian bubble, you leaned into to study your features better. You were taller, lean, and yet heavy on your chest and hips. Your ankles and wrists were so narrow, with all your joints pulled apart in your new form. While you felt as gangley as a giraffe, you still understood yourself to be small. Short. Perhaps around five feet total in height. Your wings were massive compared to what you were used to, and your longer tail lashed behind you like a clock’s pendulum. Your scales were still prominent, as for your star markings, but as you noticed when falling … your face was flat. You instantly missed your snout.

You glared at the woman’s reflection, she glared right back at you. You stuck out your tongue and she did the same. You ran your fingers through long flowing hair and a sigh of relief came from you both. 

“Hello, me.” You smiled at yourself. “I don’t suppose you know who put us here?” 

Care to take a guess?

“Hm,” You frowned then and set your attention back out into the void outside of your bubble. “I’m going to assume … someone really old at bare minimum.” 

“You could just ask, Starlight.” Someone husky said out loud, the voice making your chest vibrate. 

That wasn’t you nor your reflection. Casting quick looks about you looked for the source of the voice. “I suppose I could. Would you answer me honestly if I did?” 

“Hmph!” The baritone scoffed and by the tone of the chuckle that followed, you knew who this was. The red dragon. “You have a lot of nerve to ask a judge if they would lie.”

You held a firm stare out of the darkness. “A judge is only as good as those who challenge him. If he’s presented with falsehoods, he should do all in power to get to the truth. Lying would be beneath him.” 

The voice growled. “You presume a lot, for a prisoner.” 

You blinked. “My judge and jailer.” 

“Seems like you answered your own question.” With a wave of his massive hand, the darkness was swiped back by the very large crimson fellow from before. 

The dragon was taller than any being you had met in many millennia, and imminently wide with stacked muscles that could topple an entire building of the wanted. His own large wingspan loomed up and behind him, and a spade-tipped tail curled around the base of his dark wood chair. Four golden eyes that seemed to glow with hellfire beamed down at you, and an amused sneer stretched along his muzzle. 

You weren’t sure what to do, frozen in place, which seemed to amuse the man. He leaned down slowly, his words even more so and hotter than his gaze. “Hello, little star.” 

You swallowed but found your throat dry. “Greetings, My Lord.” 

“Lord?” He raised his left brows. “You know who I am then?” 

“I .. I’m not sure.” You said truthfully and dared to take your gaze of the demon to quickly look about the room for hints. 

Your sphere of golden bands was put in the middle of an ostentatious office - Black floors and Deep crimson walls. There was a scattering of dark furniture with heavy gothic motifs set before an impossibly large desk, all cast in a red light by a huge window behind it all. It was scary, haunting, and you found yourself lost to the silent power of the room … until you saw a very large, almost comically out of place bench press and its collection of weighty disks. 

“But it’s safer to be-be respectful,” You looked back at him and saw that his smirk had grown. “Is it not?” 

“Ass kissing will only get you so far in my court, starlight.” He huffed. “Even if the defendant is naive and cute.” 

“I'm far from naive.” You frowned. Naive and cute was not a good combo and the insinuation made your stomach knot.

“Hm, we’ll see soon enough.” The judge challenged you and as he stood from his chair, the dragon held aloft his and magically raised your prison from the floor to float in the air. Still unstable on your feet, you yelped and fell on your back; which drew another chuckle from the judge. “Once Lucifer wakes the hell up, we can get on with this little intrigue.”

You struggled to stand but did manage to sit up, brushing back some of your loose hair out of your face. “He’s not awake?”

“Not yet.” He said firmly and folded his large claws on the desk; his yellow talons clicking a nameless rhythm. “Care to take a guess how long the bastards been sleeping?” 

“A day?” You guessed which earned you a glare.

“Try a week. Give or take a few hours.” He tilted his head and his horns cast a shadow over your prison. “Same as you. I’m guessing that one falling angel trying to stop another ends up with both down-and-out for a while.”

You struggled to stand once more but thankfully found your knees sturdier this time. “But he’s alright? Just asleep?” 

“For now. If he doesn't ever wake up though then you’ve got more than my judgment to face.” The dragon drew his folded hands to his chin, resting there with an disinterested look in his four eyes. He scoffed. “And while I don’t like sharing punishments of that caliber, it’s a nuisance I have to deal with.”

“Meaning?” 

“Things change quickly in hell, little one. You’ll learn that soon enough.” 

Perhaps you were a bit naive, curious by nature and set on a mission to learn all you could. So you promoted another question with a small smile; which drew an irritated snarl from the judge. “Or you could explain it to me? I’ve never been, erm, in this type of situation before.”

“Clearly.”

“And w-we both seem to be here with nothing to do, other than talk to one another?” Your wings fluttered behind you to help the last bit of disorientation fade away. 

The dragon’s jaw clicked before he began to explain. 

“Fine. There is normally a trial by peers and a majority vote must be agreed upon before justly punishments are dispensed.” His gnarly smile bloomed once more of his red face; a shadow moving across his eyes, with a deeply, unsettling pleasure held in his expression. “And the majority does love to deal out justice. Slowly, painfully.”

“Are you going to do the same for me?” You felt your heart skip a beat as he settled that horrid pleasure on you. He took a pause to look you up and down and you felt your gut twist uncomfortably. 

But he broke and sighed wistfully. “Sadly, no.” He then rolled his four eyes and practically spat out every word that followed. “Our dear Princess Morningstar is adamant we start implementing due-fucking-processes after the shit-show that was the Ars Goetia trial. Makes judgments boring.”

The dragon lost interest for the moment and looked out the window, leaving you time to collect your thoughts. Your gaze moved to your form once more, to the bands buffering your magic, and you flexed your new fingers. You needed to get to Charlie as soon as you could, before heaven caught onto the plan, but there was no way you could escape the golden bands of the Judge before then. And no way he would release you a second before the trial. 

You needed more information, something to cling to for advantage. You began to look about the office once more, but found yourself still feeling the large man’s gaze set to you once more. Slowly you in turn stared back and both of you remained frozen for what felt like hours. 

He squinted. “You are a cherub.” 

You nodded.

“But you smell,” His nostrils flared. “Different.” 

“I am?” 

“You are. And you're too damn trusting. I can read you like an open book.” The great beast leaned down to your level once more and, even from within your bubble, you felt the heat of his heavy breathing. “Meanwhile, in this entire conversation, with all the endless questions and your blabbering, you’ve not figured me out.” 

“Did you want me to?”

He sighed. “Just start guessing, starlight. Before I get even more bored.” 

You focused back on the dragon’s features, quickly trying to make out anything of importance. His horns were limited, only four, but still ornate. He was red, gold, and wore black leather - None of that helped. He worked out, smelled of fire and musk, and you could see his paint burning away in the bright golden coals of his eyes. You followed his jaw, down to his thick neck and the bundling muscles, and paused on the center of his throat. 

Formed from overlapping scales and a hard hide, was a star. This dragon's mark was not as divided as your own stars, but still a star! You moved to the front of your bubble and pressed your tallon-tipped fingers to its surface; leaning upward to get a better look. 

The judge almost jerked his head back, but ultimately held his ground at your bold move. He smirked again. “Like what you see, darling?” 

“𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖌𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙 𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖍𝖚𝖗𝖑𝖊𝖉 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖓.”

His eyes shot wide as you spoke in the dialect of your shared blood, the variant you actually knew, and he covered your small body with an intense yellow shine. 

“𝕬𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖉 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖆𝖓, 𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖍𝖔𝖑𝖊 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖑𝖉 𝖆𝖘𝖙��𝖆𝖞 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖔 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖐𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘.”

You met his unbreaking gaze and the air was freezing.

His voice was dangerously low. “How do you know that tongue, little cherub?” 

You smiled, unable to deny the flood of emotions rushing into your fractured soul. Even as afraid as you were, you had also never felt more safe in all existence. “Because it’s the language of my kin, and of those who came long before the Father called light into the dark. I was born from the explosion that cast the heavens upon your skin.”

There was a moment where Satan looked away, a worry flashing in his golden eyes, but then he came right back to you with steeled resolve. “This is impossible.” 

“No it’s not, Satanas.” You spoke his name in Greek and absentmindedly petted the bubble, just over where his star was sat.

This time Satan did yank his head back, upper lip curled in rage and confusion. 

“Elliniká?” He asked rhetorically but you affirmed with a nod. His long talons trapped on the desk again; quick stabs that threatened to splinter the wood if he hit any harder. “If there were a people who got close enough to the truth, it was the Greeks.” 

Your smile turned into a hesitant smirk. “I did it.”

Satan’s nostrils flared again and fangs bared. “Did what?” 

“I figured you out.” You giggled as he frowned with deflated realization. 

“Huh. Well, shit. So you did, starlight.” He huffed and flopped back into his chair; far away from you in your small prison. “Are you going to make me guess your name?” 

“Do you want to?”

“Don’t push your luck, missy.” Satan pointed a claw in your direction. “You’re still in deep trouble.”

“Not as much as I am with Heaven.” You sat down and tried to relax. “Believe me or not, but I’m safer here with you, bound as I am, then free at this current moment.” 

Stan raised a brow. “True. You did fall.”

“I did.” 

His sharp grin returned. “And that begs the question - What for?”

“Hm, for a number of reasons. I suppose if you want to know the full story,” You yawned, laid down, curled your legs to your chest, and folded your green wings over yourself as a makeshift blanket. “You’ll have to ask me in court.” 

Satan growled deep in his chest, but the sound only brought you a strange comfort and you closed your eyes.

Someone of your generation was alive, a bit moody and filled with rage, but very much alive and in power. It had been so long since you met anyone from those times, with only a handful or more remaining in the wider galaxy. Most were scattered into forgetfulness, and those still remaining were set aside for newer powers. It’s what made you the perfect tool for Emily. 

You didn’t so much sleep as you simply rested, your breathing slow and body comforted by your soft feathers. Outside your bubble you heard Satan move about. And a few times you peeked your eyes open, you saw him working on his massive bench press, burning used paperwork in a nearby garbage can, or speaking to a fluttering smaller devil who had a light inflection to their voice.

What you didn’t hear was the gears turning Stan’s head as he looked at you. You were so small, delicate, a fading broken star that had fallen from grace and into his preverbal lap. In many ways that Satan hated to admit, you were his kin. Familiar. Not family in the sense of blood relations, but of existence. However, in aspects that were maybe worse, you were different. Who and what you were complicated matters, and he felt a bittersweet annoyance burn in his chest thinking of how your punishment may not be as severe as he might’ve wanted a few hours ago. Satan was pissed but could do little to relieve the stress, other than lift more weights and work on his meditations.

PHEW! We made it to the end of part two! HIGH FIVE!! ✋✋

Not much to say here other then thanks for every like, comment, and reblog ❤️ they mean the world to me! 🫘Thank you, my lovely little beans 🫘

[oak-n]

Hey, I’m just reaching out to people on Tumblr. You’ve probably heard of Jesus and God, but have you ever reached out to Jesus for problems in your life? Big or small. Not to make you uncomfortable, but did you know sin (in your life and other people’s lives) can really hurt you, it make feel like there is a void that is never satisfied. That void could be called a “God sized hole.” Sin sucks and not just in a societal cookie cutter way, but in a way that it feels like there is a decay within a person. That can be a lot to take in, but I hope it is good food for thought. I hope you’re having an awesome day!! 💕

guys we have door-to-door preachers on tumblr! that's so cool when i was a child i suffered a lot from christianity forced on me. always felt like an impostor at sunday schools, paranoid about my loud impure thoughts reaching god's ears (and i had those intrusive thoughts bad, the more authority god held, the more i spiraled into them). tried to mold myself into a righteous girl during especially bad surges of anxiety and fear of punishment. anyway i ended up in total frustration cause i couldn't sterilize my mind and natural curiosity. the attempt to curate my music taste was the last straw lol music is untouchable still i do have a universe sized hole inside, maybe i'm born backwards and this cavity was meant to appear gradually as i age. this is what being human means to me. walking around carrying something larger than i could possibly comprehend and experience with my frail body and brain mass. whatever definitions we give to this hole won't be enough so don't put hope on jesus as your final destination. he can be a good companion though! also i enjoyed easter celebrations a lot yesterday, Lviv is so beautiful т_т i'm in the mood

[chibicharlie95]

Random Late Evening Thoughts

Olrox and Mizrak

Spoilers for Castlevania Nocturn S2

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Soooo I think I may start doing some media analysis and thoughts here so please bare with me as I manage my thoughts and rambles.

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So I really love Castlevania as a series both the OG and the sequel series in Nocturn. The series has a tendency to address really hard-hitting topics in a way that is approachable, but doesn't skimp out on the beautiful animation or action sequences, and it is just a top-tier show for me personally.

That said Castlevania nocturne has a specific reoccurring theme throughout as IT addresses morality and the impacts of immortality on that morality.

In season 2 it really focuses on a lot of the religious aspects of this concept happening within a time period of intensive discourse and strife about those very same things. In season 2 there is a large focus on characters who are facing a crisis of morality.

You have one character who as their life is revealed is shown to be a true faithful to their deity, who gets lost in their feelings of obligation and personal loss, that they lose sight of the mission their deity had imparted to them. Another character faces the difficult task of dealing with personal devastation and how that impacts their relationships with every single character that they interact with be that positively or negatively. This character is one who from the beginning of the series seems to embody everything that is good and righteous and innocent, so seeing the show take that same innocence and just utterly devastate it to the point that that character faces an intensive moral crisis was just a super interesting plot point.

Which all of this is to say, bringing myself to the actual point of this ramble, I think my favorite character in this second season and as far as my personal relatability is probably Mizrak. My reason for this is actually really really simple, I am a person who grew up within a highly religious atmosphere, and so I'm able to relate to a lot of his understandings and struggles within himself and with the situations that he is inevitably faced with. He is a character who is embodying the sense of moral uprightness or like Christian uprightness, or at least the perception of that from the view of the Christian person. Mizrak sees the corruption and that which can be perceived as evil throughout the story, but he feels as though it is his duty to his faith to uphold this so-called mission from who he believes to be a higher powered servant of God. And throughout the show we watch a deterioration of that trust in not only his faith community, but in himself, his fellow man, and eventually his God.

A big character point for him is his sexuality, which is again something that I really understand and relate to coming from a highly conservative religious environment. The second season hammers home in a very delicate way the fear that he has balancing his desire or love with his overwhelming sense of personal conviction. On the one hand he is supposed to represent this all for God very faithful, almost militant aspect of Christianity, but on the same token his so called "sins" are very human in nature. In the first season we watch him struggle with feelings of lust and an initial trepidation with his faith community, and the second season we see that completely fall apart.

By the halfway point of the second season Mizrak understands at least in his mind that he is in love with a vampire, but even more than that he's in love with a man. Which is something that from his conservative militant Christian upbringing, would be something so against god, against the natural order of things, against everything that he believes he stands for, that it messes with his head. And we witness him do everything he can to avoid thinking about it, to try to run away from his truth, and even to fearfully accept it.

At the second season's end, I found his story to be incredibly poignant and sad. Because on the one hand you have him facing this terrible battle, and being stricken down, only to be saved by his friends and the love of his life. But he is very clearly dying, and so there is an option put to him that he can either die or can continue on as a vampire. The problem that we see and that isn't solved in the last few minutes of the show, is the fallout of that decision. I say fallout, because Mizrak though he admits he is terrified of death, because he knows that he is a sinner according to his understanding of God and sin - and he understands that as a result of the choices that he's made and the love that he feels, that he is probably going to go to hell. He freely admits that fear, but he never asks for Olrox to change him verbally. And until the offering of an alternate end is given, he seems to be ready to accept that fear of death.

There is an argument to be made that he kind of just lets him do it, but the final scenes again have a multitude of interpretations. One could read his expression and body language as very angry, because the choice was taken from him. But on the same token you could read it as him just being a new vampire and having a craving for blood. We're not really given enough to make a final judgment call on that. But as someone who has only in the last several years started to deconstruct the very deeply rooted things I was taught, I'm leaning towards him being very angry. Because while he is terribly afraid of death, there is an assurity that he has in that death that his God exists, and that he lived his life serving that God in a way that he believed was just. By becoming a vampire, which is the antithesis of everything that he has been raised to believe in, he is being met with a very confronting set of options about the realities in the world. Mizrak is a person who sees the things that happen around him, and still tries to adhere to a singular idea of how the universe works. So when that is all called into question because of not only his heart, situation with the other characters, and lastly his untimely end, he is faced with a rather alarming dilemma. Either everything I know is correct and I die in agony, or everything I know is false and there is an anger there in having spent so long and so much of himself, including his life, in believing and practicing that.

I don't think we're going to get another season of the show, because unfortunately ratings are just not high enough for the series, but I really wish that they would and address the other character situations, and really let us see the ultimate impact of this whole situation with these two characters. Because there is something incredibly sad about their love. Not that it could not end well, but their entire relationship has been based on one of mistrust, and in transforming Mizrak, Olrox despite his love, has put a very steep barrier between them.

It's just going to show that the kindest gestures, the most heartfelt feelings that we have, can be incredibly detrimental to other people if they are not presented at the right time and the right place. Do I think that they will ultimately end up together even if the series is not ever completed, I think so. At least with a hopeful mind they would, that they would be able to overcome everything that they have faced, and the trials and mistrust that has formed their relationship - that perhaps with time they would overcome those things and maybe lose each other only to find each other at the right place at the right time again.

But also there's a very compelling narrative of hate growing between the two of them due to this misplaced idea of love when it was the wrong time and given in the wrong way. And as Castlevania leans more towards dark than hope, there is something to be said that this would likely be the narrative path they would choose.

But I'm going to sit in my corner and ship them all I want. LOL

That was my 30 minute rant using talk to text. So if there are typos, errors, or sentences that don't make sense please forgive them.

[chosos-mascara]

lord

𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 - After confessing your sins, Sukuna is unsatisfied by your devotion to an undeserving God.

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 - priest! sukuna, demon! sukuna, true form! sukuna, sacrilege, themes of christianity, sex in a church, unprotected, devotion to sukuna, power dynamic(?), god! sukuna, god complex, sukuna calls reader a whore,

2.5k words

"Forgive me, Father." The words roll from your lips, cherry flavoured chapstick streaked over tongue as you nip at the skin, a tight clenching within chest before you begin the confessional. But, for your own sanity, and your deep faith, you'd needed to come clean. "I have sinned." 

Sukuna shifts in the stall, a tightening of fist and curl of lip, anticipating your admission of guilt. Confessionals had been his favorite part of the role he'd found himself within; to hear the deepest aspects of a human's life had been entertaining within this dull life, as well as a chance to feel the fear plaguing their auras. Though, the added factor of unknowing souls confessing sin to a demon so evil to be banished from Hell itself - that had been icing on the cake. And, with a screen between himself and any unknowing devotee, Sukuna could freely grin as he'd absorbed negativity and fear from the soul beside him. 

Rain had pattered over the stained glass with gusts of wind blowing below ornate doors. Sukuna knew no one would be visiting in this weather, and with that, he'd have you to himself. 

"Confess your sins, girl." His voice was abrasive and unforgiving, a harsh tone you'd felt you'd deserved, though he'd been far from angry. After you'd caught his attention during a Sunday mass, he'd waited patiently for you to arrive with sin in mind. As a demonic being with heightened senses, your presence had an effect over him. Taunting, he'd call it. But, Sukuna had loved every second of it. With you sat the other side of the booth, deep breaths and shaking soul, he'd felt his own hardness over the length of thigh. With your innocent stare and pure scent, he'd wanted to corrupt you more than most; to manipulate and devour your soul until it had been as stained as his. 

"Well, you see..." You sighed, closing eyes and leaning forward in the wooden seat. "I've been paycheck to paycheck for a while now, and it's been really hard to afford things like food, gas-" The excuses had been a way for you not only dress up your story, but to lessen the damage of your sins before you'd told them. Maybe this way, you could save yourself from the shame you'd been burdened with. 

"Get on with it, girl." Sukuna had understood the harsh mannerisms he'd displayed had only caused your thighs to clench harder - he could smell the nectar of your body's natural lubricant and the guilt you held for wanting something you'd been taught was wrong. He'd wondered if your confessional would be a facade when you'd felt so easily aroused by his presence - had you simply wanted to see him? 

"I stole money from someone." The admission hung in the air as it had left your bowed head, hands idly fiddling within your lap in an attempt to distract yourself from the overhanging statement. Sukuna's silence had only caused more array, leaving you to wonder how abhorrent he'd found you when you'd so freely admitted to sin. 

It had taken a minute of silence for your trembling face to turn, and your gaze to set over the grates, checking if his shadow had still been seated on the other side. "Father?" You speak once more, though your growing anxiety is met with a dry laugh. Furrowing brow, your heart racing, you begin to question his quietness.

"That's your confession?" Sukuna's laughter brings you to confusion as you await further explanation, a stuttering mess behind the walls while you try to muster a response. "I think you've done much worse than stealing, dear. Don't be so naive to think I wouldn't know about your other sins." 

Your mouth drops wide as he speaks, nausea within your body rising to throat. 

"You have stolen from many others before. Why do you only confess to this one?"  "I-"  "Do you think I wouldn't notice the disgusting way you act around me? Oh please," Sukuna stood, and somehow much faster than you'd felt to be humanly possible he'd been within your side of the booth, hand around throat as he'd pulled you to the open. You were pulled toward the benches, body folded over wood and trousers pulled down to expose bare skin, cotton thong allowing nothing to the imagination. 

"Spare me your niceties and show me the real whore you are." A harsh slap bestowed onto your ass had caused you to yelp, a burning sensation rippling over skin to leave red marks. "Repent for me, girl." A second and third slap came in quick succession, your eyes squeezing closed and face scrunching with each surge of pain. Sukuna's hands were large and his slaps firm, and with the fourth he'd chosen to leave his hand atop skin to squeeze the thickness. 

"I'm sorry, father." Your voice trembles, head bowed into your folded arms as you struggle to keep yourself in the bent position, hands clutching to the old wood beneath you.  "It's not me you should be apologizing to." For a second, his grip loosens, and you sigh in relief. Though, it's almost immediately returned when Sukuna grips wrist and hip to have you stand, pulling you toward the large cross behind his usual podium. There, he has you kneel, facing the dark wood cross. 

"Apologize to the Lord for your sins, and may you be forgiven." Sukuna's words are like venom in your ear, hand gripping your chin and nails digging to your cheek.  "Lord, I-I'm sorry for stealing, I swear I won't do it again-" 

Sukuna laughs maniacally, second hand clutching your shoulder while remaining in a crouched position. He's careful not to place a knee on the ground and offer submission before the cross - something he couldn't understand why humans had done so freely. "You're not apologizing for that, are you?" 

Your face contorts between his fingers, confusion written over features as you search his eyes for answers. It's now that you notice the red hue - or had they always looked like that? 

"You need to confess the true sin you're entwined yourself within." His voice was lower now, a deep reverberance within chest as his pointed smile grew.  "Father, I don't understand-" Your question is timid, and when he laughs again you flinch.  "Do you think he hasn't seen the way you flaunt yourself before me, a demon? The slick betwixt thigh when you should be repenting for him - you're awful." The final word is more enunciated than the rest, Sukuna sure to break your mind before he can make room his his true intention. 

"I'm sorry for being a whore, I promise I won't act on these impulses within me, Lord." There's not much room for silence before Sukuna speaks again, a tut as he voices his concerns.  "That's a little better, but I fear something is missing..." The sincereness to his voice had been too nonsensical for it to be true - this was another game he would play with you. 

"Ah, I have it." A snap of fingers confuses you, for both of his hands had been holding you tightly in kneeling position. "I think you need a new God to worship. This one won't do for someone as depraved as yourself." 

"Father-" You begin your protest, but Sukuna doesn't allow room for your thoughts.  "Worship me." With his hands over your body, your gaze forced to his, you'd taken in the true face he'd worn. The gentle expression and brown eyes you'd come to lust had long since gone, a demonic replacement of four glowing eyes and black markings etched over skin. The snarl he'd worn had seemed to contort his teeth too, fangs sharp and pointed. 

"Let go!" Your plea had been more energetic than before, fear surging and a fight or flight response causing your stomach to churn. The rush of adrenaline had been enough to make you feel dizzy, but despite your efforts, Sukuna offered no leniency or reprise. 

"That's no way to treat your Lord now, is it?" Sukuna held you in place as you'd trembled in his grip. "You'll have to ask for my forgiveness, won't you?" The superiority of his voice had belittled you in nothing more than a few words, body's struggle fizzling out as you'd succumbed to his authority. 

"I'm sorry." Your relaxed frame caused his grip to loosen slightly, the anxiety within you suddenly merging into something more.  "Good girl, that wasn't so hard." When a hand had come to caress the crown of your head, you'd finally looked to his torso. From there, you'd discovered his true form - four arms had emerged from chest, uniform torn in two to accommodate the extra set of limbs. His stomach had large ridges of muscle, the black markings from his face now decorating flesh previously hidden. As much as you'd hated to admit it, there had been something overwhelmingly enticing about Sukuna. The fear for your life had appeared to die out, and you'd seen him in a new light. 

His gentle touch had soothed you, fingers caressing cheek and head as all four eyes had set on you. Had this been the draw of a God? 

"Now," He'd spoken in a sincere tone, though you'd known within your core that he hadn't meant it. "I need an act of devotion, a display of adoration for your new Lord." 

His lips were close to your ear as he'd spoken, a pair of hands moving to grope your chest above the shirt you'd worn and you'd stifled a moan, leaning into his touch. With this, Sukuna had pushed your body to the stone floor, a quick tare of fabric to leave you exposed to his gaze. There had been something freeing about your nudity before him, chest raised as you'd drawn teeth over lip. The air was cold, yet you felt heat radiating from Sukuna's body - a frame that had practically doubled in size as he'd pinned you to the ground. His grip had settled over your neck, with another set of fingers scratching over the skin of your stomach. 

"Perhaps, you can be my Lilith." His statement had little meaning to you and had been more of an utterance, though for some reason you'd felt a hum in the pit of your stomach. 

There had been a twang over nipple, a swirl of tongue to leave you gasping and confused, half lidded eyes set over a mouth manifested on the palm of his hand. The tongue had drawn over the bud, drawing circles over hardness and causing your back to arch on the stone tile.  "Do you love me?" His words felt sinister but you couldn't help to nod, light headed from his touch. 

"I love you, Lord Sukuna." The phrase had been stuttered through whines as you'd pressed your chest into his hands more, a mouth latched onto you to cause ecstasy. There hadn't been a statement you'd felt more sure about within your life - you were completely enamored by the entity above you. "Show me, then." 

You'd peered down with reluctance, and had been left in awe at the sight before you. Sukuna had peeled the busting cotton from his legs to reveal his endowment: that of two lengths, both thick and extensive. The view had caused some nervousness to stir within you, though a second hand finding it's way to your slick had made your mind numb. 

"So sweet." Sukuna had uttered to your ear as he'd bitten over the flesh, pulling another lewd and blaring moan from your lips. The mouth had lapped over slit, circling your clit before moving downward. There had been a few thrusts of tongue before he'd lowered himself further, a stripe over your lowest point. 

At first, you'd felt shocked at the movement, yet when feeling the thick appendage tease your opening to finally fill you, you'd spread your legs wider to accommodate more. He'd laughed, positioning the lowest cock to the dripping entrance and easing in. If he'd gone faster you were sure he'd have split you in two, though with the fullness of length and tongue, you'd been left to relax on the tile and take what you'd been given. 

Your walls had hugged Sukuna well, his rough rocks allowing a squeeze over cock he hadn't felt before. He'd been right on his initial guess that you were simply something else, something he wouldn't share with others. He'd make you his, he'd make you worship him. With you as a devotee, Sukuna had been sure he wouldn't need another. The feeling of your tightness milking him and the pure moans of pleasure erupting from you had made him want to pillage the entire world to leave only you within it. 

What he'd felt had been greed. He'd wanted to take all he could get from your pure form, an unknowing and dainty human fallen within his trap. Like a spiderweb, you'd been tangled in his clutches and left for him to toy with. 

A finger had circled your clit as his length had stretched you to brim, the thick arousal coating your folds allowing pad to slide easily over bud. Sukuna's touch had been enthralling, the perfectly timed movements and actions leaving you unable to love another as you had him. No one would give you the pleasure he'd bestowed to you, and you would give him absolutely everything in return. 

You swore under your breath, vision blurred. You'd been able to make out his looming body above yours along with the motions of his hips, and with head tilted to the side, you could see the wooden cross he'd defiled you beneath. Even if your mind had raised alarm bells at the sacrilege you had committed, something about the sight had only caused the coil within your core to snap, a sudden wave of intense pleasure to wash over your body. Something that had been coaxed by no one other than the demonic entity you'd allowed inside you. 

"Come for me, whore." Sukuna's length had continued to stretch your body with his, leaving an ache between thigh. You were sure walking home wouldn't be an option after this - if he'd permitted you to leave. 

"You belong to me, now." His words were aggressive as he'd stuffed you to fullness, your legs locked in position with an inhuman grip.  "I belong to you, Lord Sukuna." The phrase had left your lips without thought, and you'd felt nothing other than a deep devotion as Sukuna pushed himself to your limit, the second twitching length lef tto rub over your stomach as the bottom had worked inside. 

The feeling of heat had washed over chest as it had your insides, Sukuna's release covering the exposed skin as he'd held you roughly to the ground, inhuman sounds echoing within his body while he'd decorated your weakness with his arousal. 

[bunnyreaper]

Demon Gaz, who's looking for a pretty little plaything to corrupt. Maybe a priests daughter, or someone who (somehow) has never sinned before.

<3

hopefully you enjoy this crime against christianity <3 cw dubcon, religion.

looking like such an angel, kyle finds his job incredibly easy. his beautiful brown eyes look like they're incapable of hiding a single sinful thought, never mind an entirely devilish being.

his smile is so bright the local god-fearing women think it could ward off any ill fate that could befall the town--if only they knew the reason for their downfall was their darling local charmer. 

you and kyle had been friends for a while now, he was new in town and took a shine to you immediately when you sat next to him in church one day.

from that moment on, he knew that he would make you his. 

it was easy to get you alone, under the guise of bible study, of reinforcing your father's teachings. the sessions started with quiet, companionable reading. kyle would keep you company, answer simple questions you had, and ask you about your life. 

no boys, no parties, no sin. 

he couldn't ask for a prettier, more innocent little thing to corrupt. 

your descent started slowly, in a way he couldn't have even planned. he didn't have to seek you out, as you followed him around like a lost lamb, unknowingly leading itself to slaughter. you tried to spend as much time with him as possible, obsessed with the way he looked at you like no one had before. 

you could sense his desire, even if you thought it to be something simple and innocent--the kind of love and admiration your parents' marriage was built from, the kind of devotion you had for your god. 

you had no idea of the lust that lay within--the corrupting, all-consuming need. kyle garrick was a selfish man, used to turning girls like you on their heads and feeding off their sins before moving on to the next. 

something about you was different. 

perhaps it was because he'd never met one so pure and untainted, or maybe it was because, unlike the others, you had no sense of self-preservation. it could be that you always had this look in your eyes like you wouldn't really mind if kyle led you astray, you'd follow him anyway. that was something he quickly became addicted to.

the poking and questioning followed soon after, kyle subtly guiding you to question the gospel, your father, and everything you've ever known, all for him. he pretended to struggle with his faith too, though he supposed it wasn't a lie, as once upon a time he had. 

you were quick to follow, enamored by your guardian angel in every way, believing he could never steer you wrong. 

after all, questioning is normal, natural, why we were given free will--that's what kyle always says. and with the sweet way he says it, so earnest and everything... there's no way the two of you are doing anything wrong.

so when he pulls you into his lap one day, bible in hand, you don't question it. when he asks your interpretation on a particular verse, and leads you to a certain conclusion, you don't question it. 

when he takes you on a walk through the churchyard flowers and kisses you under the flower-filled pergola, lips against yours like he's devouring you, you don't question it. 

from there, the rest is easy. coaxing you into sneaking out late at night, straight into his arms, getting you to give up your vow of chastity, your commitments to the church, your devotion to god.

instead, you worship him. his name falling from your lips like a prayer as he drives inside you, taking you for him forever. spoiling you for other men, breaking all your oaths. 

he stretches you out, shapes you to him, claims you with his cock, his cum, his fingers, the way his nails scraping down your body carves his name into your soul.

you cry out for him when your pretty mouth is on the end of his cock, you cry out for him when he's gone--tears beading in your eyes either way. 

and when they try to take you away from kyle, to make you 'see the light', 

all the lessons you've been taught about vengeance and grace fall away, and you search for a new beginning--disavowing your church, your family, your upbringing. 

and with your fall complete, when it's time for kyle to skip town? there's no way in hell he could leave you behind.

[matthew2641]

A Baptism in Blood: The Nihilistic Purification of Hannibal

The notion of forgiveness, as expounded through the discourses of theological and moral philosophy, is a sacrosanct act of severance  - an ontological renewal through which individuals extricate themselves from past transgressions and recalibrate their moral and spiritual equilibrium. In the Christian paradigm, absolution is more than a juridical reprieve; it is an act of divine purgation, not merely pardoning sin but obliterating it, restoring innocence and severing its corrupting power. However, in Hannibal, this notion is deliberately perverted: forgiveness is not a liberation but an instrument of subjugation. Here, absolution transforms into an ouroboric rite - a macabre liturgy in which supplicants become ensnared within a necrotic lattice of control, culpability, and annihilation.

One aspect in which this perversion manifests is within the series’s rich visual and symbolic motifs. The sumptuous meals that Hannibal prepares are more than just indulgences of the flesh; they are sacraments suffused with an unholy grandeur. Such lavish repasts exist as malevolent doppelgängers of the Christian tradition of the Eucharist, meant to symbolise transubstantiation of Christ’s flesh into a vehicle of grace, Hannibal’s consumption by contrast, is a damnation - devouring rather than sanctifying, his victims desecrated in an unctuous theatre of aestheticised predation. Moreover, the recurring image of water furthers this inversion. Initially invoking the cleansing imagery of baptismal purification, water is rendered an agent of chaos. No cleansing flows from its depths, only a primal abyss, harkening back to the amniotic void. The act of submerging oneself in water, often shown as violent or disturbing, mutates into a harbinger of failed renewal. In this universe, salvation is not a promise of true spiritual redemption, but a bitter mirage that remains forever out of reach.

Nowhere is this corruption more evident than in the complex dynamics between Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, and Abigail Hobbs. These relationships transcend simple character interplay, becoming a dialectical struggle for domination - a form of esoteric communication in which forgiveness is neither beatific nor emancipatory, only a talisman of domination. Love, by extension, is not an unblemished vessel of tenderness; rather, a festering wound aching with ruinous yearning. Encumbered by self-interest, mutual defilement, and the inexorable erosion of the self.

Will and Hannibal, though seemingly poised at opposite ends of the moral spectrum, perceive Abigail not as an autonomous individual but as a conceptual artifact. She is a spectral effigy of lost purity - an ersatz daughter for Will, and for Hannibal, a revenant for his beloved Mischa - a fulcrum upon which their competing theological visions pivot. The visual syntax of the series accentuates the dissonant and impossible nature of her position - she is placed in spaces of tension, at the margins of the frame or physically estranged from the protagonists, yet never truly outside of their gravitational pull. In this way, her existence is marked by the temporal stasis of purgatory: a suspended, interstitial space where she remains forever on the cusp of identity, never wholly belonging to either father figure, and yet, inextricably tied to both. 

Christian eschatology heralds forgiveness as a conduit through which the soul is restored to its Edenic purity. Yet, Abigail is a soul exiled from such simplistic dualities, contesting this purity model. Neither wholly victim nor unrepentant perpetrator, she is caught between the inherited monstrosity of her father and conscious agency. Through an awareness of this fact, she seeks not purification, but survival. Will seeks to absolve her in Potage (S1E3), reflecting the previously outlined transactional view of absolution: “You’re not your father. You’re not the monster he wanted you to become.” Here, Will assumes the role of a Christ-like redeemer, his forgiveness appearing as a salvific benediction meant to deliver her from the taint of her father’s sins. However, this is a forgiveness steeped in self-deception, for Will, pardoning Abigail is not a divine absolution but a desperate invocation of lost agency, an illusory salve for his own complicity in the horrors that have shaped her existence. His forgiveness does not cleanse - it merely recontextualizes, a futile endeavour attempting to transmute guilt into grace. This aligns with Freud’s concept of repetition compulsion, wherein trauma is unconsciously reenacted in a doomed effort to master it. Will is no benevolent saviour; but a man entrapped in the recursive architecture of his own psyche, seeking in Abigail the scaffold upon which to reconstruct his fragmented self. Abigail, like Will, remains trapped in the moral ambiguity of her actions - a state of perpetual suspension denied both salvation and damnation. Will’s ultimate descent into annihilation, culminating in his sanguinary embrace with Hannibal in The Wrath of the Lamb (S3E13), is the apotheosis of this compulsion. His self-immolation is far from an act of transcendence, but an ecstatic obliteration -  an offering of the self upon the altar of a love too corrosive to sustain anything but devastation. By embracing Hannibal and consummating his surrender to the abyss Will conflates destruction with agency.

Hannibal, in contrast, reframes Abigail’s trauma as an inheritance, her father’s sins are not burdens to be expunged, but rather emblems of a greater power. In Potage, he tells her, “You accepted who he was. You will always have that over Will. You already knew your father. He had to wonder.” Rather than offering liberation, Hannibal reshapes Abigail’s identity through his forgiveness, binding her to him, not as an act of grace but of possession. Unlike Will, who seeks to absolve Abigail of her past, Hannibal weaponizes it, turning it into the foundation for her rebirth under his guidance. In this respect Abigail, too, finds herself in the circuitry of repetition compulsion. Having been raised in a world where survival meant complicity, she may have found Hannibal's tutelage familiar. In helping stage her own death, she attempts to reclaim agency, denouncing emancipation in favour of continuity through submission to a structure she understands and now believes has the means to navigate, a fatalistic embrace of the cycle. Abigail’s transformation from victim to willing participant in Hannibal’s world marks her final, tragic rejection of Will’s version of redemption. She no longer seeks forgiveness in the traditional sense; she seeks something more elusive - her own place in a world devoid of clear moral absolutes.

Hannibal, however, is no supplicant. He does not yearn for forgiveness as a means of redemption; he demands it as an enthronement. His lament to Will, “I let you know me. See me. I gave you a rare gift, but you didn’t want it,” is not merely an elegy of rejection but an indictment of disobedience. For Hannibal’s desire is not purification but acceptance, and thus his transgressions are not aberrations but testaments to his divinity, earning exaltment. In this way, he is not simply a perversion of the Christ figure - he is a parodic Messiah, a devouring wolf clothed in the sheep's vestments. For Hannibal, forgiveness is not an act of grace but a mechanism of consumption: to forgive him is to surrender, to relinquish oneself utterly. Will, though a long faltering disciple, eventually succumbs to the ecstatic inevitability of this theology in Mizumono (S2E13). During which he allows himself to be gored in a "strange surrender," as Bryan Fuller describes it: "He allows the gutting. He almost feels as if he deserves it in light of what he’s done; he’s betrayed Hannibal." An oblation offered in penance for his own betrayal. This is not a fault in his forgiveness, but its consummation: an eschatological revelation in which he does not simply forgive Hannibal, but surrenders to the all-consuming sanctity of his doctrine.

Abigail’s final moments in Mizumono serve as the ultimate repudiation of Christian forgiveness. Her resurrection, a grotesque parody of divine rebirth, is devoid of redemptive meaning. She is not restored to life in a triumphant sense but merely to become a pawn in Hannibal’s grand tragedy. When Hannibal slits Abigail’s throat, it is not an act of wrath but the fulfilment of his twisted liturgy. He "saved" Abigail, in the sense that he let her live under his wing, but her existence was always contingent upon his will and in failing to become his ideal, she is excised with the same clinical elegance with which she was preserved. In Christian doctrine, failing to receive divine forgiveness results in eternal separation from God. Hannibal, as an almost godlike figure in his own narrative, enacts this separation with brutal finality. This slaughter consolidates the theological schema Hannibal wishes to impose upon his world, that there is no celestial amnesty as we understand it, no boundless agape through which the fallen may be redeemed - there is merely possession and excision. The very method of Abigail’s undoing, the languid incision across her throat, mimics the Christian iconography of the Paschal lamb, a sacrificial archetype of innocence. Though, unlike the sanctified oblation of Christ, Abigail is stripped of volition and thus redemptive teleology; not martyred but discarded, reduced to an ornamental casualty in Hannibal’s cathedral of ruin. As her body was cradled against the cavernous dark of her surroundings, the composition recalls the Pietà, yet absent of its sublimity. This is not the Madonna lamenting the body of a crucified Son, but a predatory deity relinquishing his broken creation with preordained savagery. Then, as the desecration is completed, Hannibal steps into the storm, allowing for the rain to baptise him in an additional blasphemous mimicry of penitential ablution. But this is no true purification, no soul is made luminous beneath the torrential downpour, it simply erases. A nihilistic effacement washing away all false pretences that both Will and Hannibal had married themselves to - that Abigail might yet be redeemed, that Hannibal might be anything but consuming. 

In the wake of Abigail’s death, Will is left to contend with the futility of his forgiveness. His attempts to redeem her, to offer absolution were rendered impotent. Abigail had not only failed in being liberated but had the tragedy of her existence prolonged. Such profound inevitability led Will to become more amenable to Hannibal’s version of forgiveness, and ultimately submit himself to it fully. In the grand design of Hannibal, forgiveness does not sever the shackles of guilt - it tightens them, binding its recipients in the recursive waltz of moral contamination. In this exquisite distortion of Christian sacrament, lies the surest route of destruction.