#i have damnation's flame and good lord

[lemons-pears]

oh when there's no future, how can there be sin?

-🔥-

john constantine, you royal pain in the arse. had no right to take me this bloody long, and to turn out like this-

if anyone asks, this is a post of shame

i'll repost him again in the future with improvements just right now this is the best it's getting.

[officialjudgeclaudefrollo]

My love for you has been my Eternal Damnation.

The shackles don't bound me, these chains isn't what's holding me back.

'Tis you who have been the sole reason of my suffering. 'Tis you who have been keeping me awake at night.

You.

As the day rose, so did the crowd's cheer.

They clap, shout, lust on you as you circle through them in an eternal dance.

I never had intentions to know who you are.

But they called you "Esmeralda".

Your eyes looked like it. You're as beautiful as it. You're the embodiment of that jewel.

The same deep green stone I've kept in my ring, on my bony looking hands, the same jewel that reflects the color of your beautiful eyes. The name that highly speaks of you.

As the day sinks, so did my eyes. But my soul is trapped as awake as if it was the early bright day.

So I stood up still and looked by the fireplace.

It was warm. It was bright. It was somewhat comforting... Until it was not.

It was searing. It was burning me. It was hot.

Hot as the sun shining in the noon; It's an hour that you chose to dance.

It's burning like my growing desire that I do not wish to have— I never wished to have.

It's searing my soul, it's searing my skin. It's tearing up my flesh. It's too much. Too... Much...

“H-help me, Maria.”

My pious mouth immediately spoke of your ridiculously disgusting yet addictive name. My hands craved for the bosoms that you richly have. Your black locks that I am desperate to smell. My eyes are seeing you dancing and entrancing me by the burning flames.

My body wants you naked and close to my very proximity.

“E-esmeralda!!”

“Ahhhh!! Esmeralda!!”

Your devilish laughs grew loudly as my voice did. It was maddening, sickening, terrifyingly good. I can't stop. I won't stop.

“I LOVE YOU, ESMERALDA.”

The next thing I knew is I was on the floor. I woke up as if I died.

I felt the disgust upon myself seeping on my bloodstream. I felt the aching of my body. I felt high.

I am a sinner in the hands of an angry God.

I am a sinner.

My feet felt dragging as I headed to punish my own flesh. One whip after the other, my sinful mouth uttered a solemn prayer.

“Hail Mary full of grace...”

One.

“The Lord is with you.”

Two.

“Blessed are you among women.”

Three.

“And blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.”

Four.

“Holy Mary, Mother of God.”

Five.

“Pray for us sinners.”

Six.

“Now and at the hour of our death.”

Driiiip... Seven!

“Amen.”

[sovaghoul]

⚠️DISCLAIMER⚠️

This post is meant all in good fun and is not intended to offend anyone's religious or spiritual sensibilities. I'd hope any Ghost fan would realize that, but you never know. I tagged this with "Scooby-Doo Satanism" for that reason. That said, if you DO want to do this in earnest, feel free. Also CW/TW for Catholicism.

So I thought to myself, "Self, Ghost sells Grucifix rosaries. There's also the "Dark Lord’s Prayer" in Ritual. And the "Holy Mother" bridge in Griftwood is kind of like a Hail Mary."

So I researched and embellished upon traditional rosary prayers and came up with this. Based upon the Meliora rosary because that's the one I have.

All prayer/lyrics credit to our Tender Father.

Begin by holding the Grucifix and reciting (or singing, if you prefer) The Depth of Satan's Eyes (Prayer A):

Into the eyes of fire

Into the gaze ablaze

Into the burning light

Of Satan's rays

Into the source of wisdom

Beyond the Bible lies

Into the endless depth

Of Satan's eyes

Next, on the first large bead, recite The Dark Lord’s Prayer (Prayer B):

Our father, who art in Hell

Unhallowed, be Thy name

Cursed be the sons and daughters

Of Thine nemesis who are to blame

Thy kingdom

Come

nemA

On each of the following large beads, recite The Holy Mother (Prayer C, 3x total):

Holy Mother

You washeth the sin from my feet

Holy Mother

You shine like the sun and the moon

And the stars in the sky

The world rests heavy on your shoulders

Holy Mother

You shine like the sun and the moon

And the stars in the sky

In the space before the next large bead, recite Year Zero (Prayer D):

He will tremble the nations

Kingdoms to fall one by one

Victim to fall for temptations

A daughter to fall for a son

The ancient Serpent Deceiver

To masses standing in awe

He will ascend to the heavens

Above the stars of god

Hell Satan, Archangelo

Hell Satan, welcome Year Zero!

Repeat The Dark Lord’s Prayer (B) on the next large bead.

On the space after the bead, recite Per Aspera Ad Inferi (Prayer E):

Oh Satan, devour us all

Hear our desperate call

Per aspera ad inferi (x4)

Continue along the strand widdershins (counter-clockwise), and repeat The Holy Mother (C) on the next 9 large beads (9x total).

Repeat Year Zero (D), Dark Lord’s Prayer (B) and Per Aspera Ad Inferi (E) before, on, and after each single large bead, respectively, as before (3x total).

Repeat Prayers B-E in the same manner until returning to the Bite of Passage (the Y junction leading back to the Grucifix).

Four final prayers, Stand By Him (F), Majesty (G), Con Clavi Con Dio (H), and Satan Prayer (I), end the rosary, again holding the Grucifix:

A moon shone bright above Her trial

As flames ate through Her body defiled

The Witch Hammer struck Her down

On our Sabbath, She's unbound

'Tis the night of the Witch

'Tis the night of the Witch tonight

And the Vengeance is Hers

For as long as She stands by Him

⛧

Old One, Master

All beauty lies within You

Your Infernal Majesty!

⛧

Sathanas, we are One

Out of three, Trinity

Siamo con clavi

Siamo con Dio

Siamo con il nostro Dio scuro

⛧

Believe in one god do we

Satan almighty

The uncreator of heaven and soil

And the unvisable and the visable

And in his Son

Begotten of Father

By whom all things will be unmade

Who for man and his damnation

Incarnated

Rise up from hell

From sitteth on the left hand of his Father

From thense he shall come to judge

Out of one substance

With Satan

Whose kingdom shall haveth no end

nemA

[lilyandthegenshinbrainrot]

King Deshret, the ruler of the Deserts, and one of the Three God-Kings of Sumeru as of v. 3.3

During the Archon Wars, there were three gods of Sumeru. King Deshret, the Lord of Deserts and of the Blazing Sun, The Goddess of Flowers and Mistress of Dreams, and Greater Lord Rukkhadevata the God of the Woods and of Wisdom.

King Deshret was a good friend to both of the other two God-kings, and he regarded them kindly, especially so of the Goddess of Flowers. He loved her, and when she died, he mourned her every day he lived after. He and Greater Lord Rukkhadevata split ways to develop their people separately, and she produced an oasis in the desert to build a forest for her people. In his grief, he lost himself and grew mad, where he discovered Forbidden Knowledge, this knowledge hurt his people and brought Eleazar and The Withering to Sumeru, and Rukkhadevata helped he and his sages protect themselves against the divine curse. When they had managed to handle the curse, King Deshret allowed himself to pass so that the forbidden knowledge would no longer pose a threat to his people.

Or, at least, that's what the wiki says outright, here's a little more context given to us throughout weapon ascension materials, books, and the new artifact set, Flower of Paradise Lost

Deshret was known as a great warrior god who valued justice and strength. He was also the strongest of the Three God-Kings, because at this time, Sumeru was entirely deserts.

When the Archon War took place, Celestia offered him a gnosis but he refused. He wanted a divinity that was separate from them, and the Goddess of Flowers thought he was incredibly ambitious for this. She warned him of Celestia's feats, of the Divine Nails that they used to destroy civilizations and told him not to seek the Master of the Four Shades and inquire the mysteries of the stars and abyss. He was insistent that he could handle godhood without their influence and she was honestly impressed with the nerve, so she agreed to help him.

Together they built an oasis paradise, Ay-Khanoum, where the two gods brought their people together and taught them the importance of joy and peace, song, and wine.

Their people loved them both, until the Goddess of Flowers died. She died knowing that her awareness of the divine knowledge would kill her, but King Deshret didn't know that. The people began to spread rumors that he killed her, that she couldn't stand him anymore, that he was jealous. The grief sent him through a downward spiral where he neglected himself and his citizens, here, the Aranara claim that while he wished to build a place without sorrow, the definition of happiness changes over years and so this is the cause of his changing behaviors. During this time, he was known as the foolish God-King and a tyrant.

There was a turning point however, when the divine knowledge began to bring curses onto the population, such as scales and madness forming on their bodies and minds. This is when his high priest called Rukkhadevata to come help them. Deshret knew that he was too far from sanity when she arrived, and allowed his spirit to pass in peace so that the damnation of divine knowledge would stop hurting his people and die with him.

Going into speculation, the Sumeru Weapon Ascension Materials continue to tell of his story. He wore a striped cape that resembled "Blazing Flames" and he was the Greater Lord of Labyrinths and Owner of the Mirror-pool Spring. I believe the striped cape makes Deshret the "Tiger" in the Aranara Weapons lore, such as the claymore and sword. This "Tiger" is also referred to in Wanderering Evenstar, as "ancient" and demanding that this wanderering prince that belongs neither to the forest or death leave. The Tiger was known for building great mazes that were notoriously difficult to solve and the labyrinths changed every generation of new Kings, which might be references new vessels of Deshret, because that was a belief for a moment there. This is very... unreliable as the source is from Aranara, who have a different understanding of the world especially as they are extensions of the Dendro Archon. They acknowledge that this was a difficult time for them, and the Aranara who told this story was uncomfortable and quiet.

Also worth mentioning, is that the Algorithm of Semi-Intransient Matrix of Overseer Network. The Tomb Guard of the Desert King, and the final acting force behind the will of Al-Ahmar himself. This machine is said to have been created because King Deshret coveted the power of the heavens and had a dream that he couldn't complete alone, but the primal constructs no longer remember these wishes. The wishes are to build several palaces, build more machines, and plant more flowers that will never bloom again.

Sources:

Flowers of Paradise Lost Artifact Set

Aranara Weapon Series

Tulaytullah Weapon Series

Scorching Mights Weapon Ascension Materials

Oasis Gardens Weapon Ascension Materials

Talismans of the Forest Dew Weapon Ascension Materials

Sumeru Archon Quest Chapter III Act III & VI

[understandableparadox]

if no one in this room is lying, then there is a few mutual feelings between the two...the most prevalent among them being-

"Holy shit they got hot."

one, now a demon of the flames. 8 foot with curling rams horns that sprouted from black hair that flowed like an ebony waterfall over their shoulder, a few curls of which floated around them with an unknown power. their body was wrapped in markings that glowed with the same dull red as lava, which really helped accentuate the new musculature the unholy had given them, along with a second set of clawed arms.

if she wasn't in half the mind to do what she had set out to do, that being turn hell inside out in pursuit of her missing lover she would ask to be crushed in a hug against his now encyclopedia sized pecs. a question she noted would be very inappropriate incase the demon was in fact lying.

now from the demons point of view, he beheld a woman disheveled with hair flickering with embers from whatever insane magical pact she had gained to endure the hellish heat flames and lava of the infernal plane. they had gained a far stronger physique from their rampage through hell. slightly broad shoulders that rolled as they shift the position of the massive rune covered blade in their newly calloused hands. the ground under them had cracked as they had stomped the ground in a rage over the proclamation, showing that their muscled thighs were infact both form and function.

they had dawned rough iron armor over patches of what he could only assume to be some form of draconic leather. if it wasn't for the scar tissue that now shown through the armor, sending pings of regret anger and sadness to mix with the boiling demonic blood... he would have admitted he had a thing for jacked massive sword bearing barbarians. he blamed Conan and her for perpetuating this madness.

they regard each other carefully. one unsure of the words. almost daring not to believe that they could be true. not daring to believe that the creature before them was the man she loved. she had cut down so many creatures that looked like this... none of them had the gall to speak to her, much less give such a incredulous story.

the demon was very well aware of the danger that they were in but they would be torn to shreds again before they dared dream of touching her with any form of malice.

she scanned his face for any signs of what she once knew, the soft goofy smile he once wore, the slightly bent nose from some forgone accident. of course she wanted to believe it. of course she wanted the grim task to be over and to leave with the one she loved. though in that lays the problem. nothing comes easy, nothing comes without its pound of flesh. the demon could be a fake, a damn good one... or they could even by the one she's looking for, but changed in something vital.

"say...say something he would know then..."

wow that's a loaded question. the demons mind buzzed with possibilities, ok what would he say that would work in this situation...? I love you? no that's manipulative and sure to earn a sword cut. location of their first date? no that could have been gotten out of the orientation torture.

what kind of response did she want? she didn't know. something that would stay her blade and tell her that she was done and could leave. if this demon could tell her whatever magical phrase that would banish any and all worries then it wouldn't even matter if that the moment she was wrong that she would fall from a dagger in the back.

she made the choice to be strong on a whim. she took the blade on a whim. she made the choice to cut and be cut on a whim. could she even go back to domesticity after this? she has disembolwed more demons then she ever has fresh fish.

she had cleaved off the head of a demonic lord and toted it about as a warning, if this was him she would have to go back to arguing about chores in the house.

she had rallied souls of the damned to fight against the eternal damnation that had befell them and created the first rebellion hell has ever known. if she goes back, she would rally her neighbors against tyrannical homeowners association.

thus when he opened his mouth, she braced as if he was going to strike her down. parts of her waiting both in dread and anticipation for what comes next...

"our first couples costume...You made me dress up as Marilyn Monroe so you could be a Kennedy because I jokingly sang happy birthday to you a few months ago."

a pause. silence between the two only broken up by the slight crackle of flames from his form and around them. his face grew panicked, four of his hands shot up, not in defense but to try to calm the situation.

"i-if thats not enough i- uh...dear...?"

her shoulders shook...then again, and again... then a weird noise escaped her. almost like a hiccup. a laugh...its a bit of a common misconception that a laugh doesn't exist here... but its not true, there's plenty. sadists laughing, people laughing as they go mad... but this didn't sound like much for either... she rushed forward, he clinched his eyes shut expecting for that to be the last thing he heard...not to bad of a note to end off on, but instead he felt arms wrap around him and nearly snap his spine. fiery tears start to leak from his visage as he goes to return it.

It’s been 5 years since a portal to hell opened and infernal creatures dragged your spouse down in front of your very eyes. The demon before you has been trying to explain for the past hour that they are your spouse.

[theskeletonprior]

find the word tag

Blessedly, I have been tagged by @muddshadow to make some good use of a few words. In turn, I am tagging @magefaery, @rosieartsie, @ironicimmigrant, and anyone who happens to be reading this and feels inclined to do me that very good pleasure of tagging me in something that you’ve written.

The words I leave you with are: quiet • snowfall • echo • vitreous

And now, behold my offering. The words I was given are: clear • cold • crisp • carry.

WIP | Sugar O’er the Devil

Time in Hell is nebulous. There is no morning, no night. All the days are one, and every moment is the same moment. Still, to its denizens, the texture of that long moment could change. A heartbreak in the dead of night. The searing agony of a bad parting in the blistering heat of summer. This moment is a clear dawn in a bitterly cold midwinter that feels like it’s been torn out of Richard’s own memory. Some sad day that he would have forgotten, save that he lives now in Hell, where every pain is sharp as the first time. He turns his gaze skyward, an echo of its blue in his own eyes, ablaze as they had never been in all the short years of his life. Too brief to accomplish all that he dreamed, but long enough to earn his way here. The morningstar gleams, here in the deep, the radiant gaze of their lord Lucifer, the only one left in all the world who will love those who are fallen to this place. Richard stays there until his neck aches with craning up at this vague respite, and then the circle begins to form beneath his feet. The lines are crisp, sizzling away the snow, drawn in a confident hand. Richard is eternal as demons are, now. This could be the first time he has been called forth from Hell, or the thousandth time. Hell teaches him all there is to know of the summoning as it happens, as it happened, as it is happening. Here comes the offering. Lamb’s blood, to fill the curves of the circle, to crush him into a point fine enough to pierce the veil. Here is the voice of the summoner, who will give all if only he will grant her wishes. He can almost taste her name on the tip of his tongue. Come, you spirits. Send me a devil. Her voice, the will in it, is strong enough to carry the stuff of him into that breathing world. He can only wonder, then, if he will emerge fully-formed. But he is not himself, and he can only be himself. He takes in his breath, and it is full of hellfire. The flames sink into him, whispering a promise as familiar to him as his own twisted limbs, as the conjurer’s circle that ignites upon his brow. Remember that thou art damned, and to damnation shalt thou return.

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Choose the Sword (Bishop Heahmund x Reader)

Summary: There is only person that Heahmund cherishes above all, and when she is threatened, he realizes he would do anything to protect her…. even sell his soul to a blue-eyed devil. 

This is my contribution to @maggiescarborough​ 500 followers celebration! (I’m so sorry this is late but here we are.)

Flower chosen: periwinkle- religious symbol in the Middle Ages tied to the Virgin Mary, benevolence (desire to do good to others, charitable), nostalgia and purity.

I also decided to add an extra challenge and write for a character I would not normally write for- hence Heahmund. 

Words: 6000

Warnings: implied abuse/mistreatment, mutual pining, couple swear words, heavy religious overtones, Ivar being manipulative 

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius​ @evelynshelby​ @pomegranates-and-blood​ @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie​

Also, a huge shout-out to @flowers-in-your-hayr​ for this absolutely stunning moodboard. Look at this! Its gorgeous! Be in awe! 

 He knew where she would be. 

 The leaves and twigs underfoot crunched beneath his boots. The morning sun casted shadows as it peeked through the foliage above him. His sword bounced against his back almost in sync with the cross upon his chest. The weight of both, something he was continuously aware of. 

 It was here he first met her on a hazy summer day. 

 It was here the two of them always seemed to find one another like two stars caught in each other's orbits. 

 It was here he could never decide if she was his salvation or his damnation. 

 Along the thin trail, his feet guided him, stepping over sticks and rocks. His mind wrestled with the news, but as his mind fought, his heart broke within his chest. It was a selfish reaction, he knew. Yet that did not cease the pain welling in his chest, so strong it threatened to bring forth tears. He kept them at bay. For he was a man of the cloth, a man of God. 

 But sometimes he struggled with just being a man. 

 Soon the gurgling of the bubbling creek could be heard amidst the summer songs of the birds. His footfalls quickened and after several more paces, she finally came into view. Kneeling near the creek, hands folded before her in supplication, she appeared the very vision of pious purity. 

 Heahmund gently called out her name, like a whisper in the breeze, a soft caress on skin. When her head lifted, turning to find him walking closer, his heart skipped a beat. Those eyes that beguiled him, those sweet lips that only allowed kind words to pass through, and her smile…. oh, that smile that lit up her face like a lamp uncovered to shine in the darkest of nights. 

 To his dying breath, he would fervently believe she was an angel in disguise, a blessing from the Lord God bestowed on his creation to remind them of His goodness. 

 And that was why she was both his salvation and damnation. 

 Because he wanted her. He wanted her with all his soul. But she was too pure, too benevolent, too holy for someone like him. She made him want to be better in both his vows and himself. To fight without wavering in protecting his country from the heathens. To protect her from ever having to fear them. 

 And when she turned those eyes to him, when she smiled gently at him like he was her favorite person on earth, he was undone. 

 "Your Grace." She rose to her feet, brushing off the few pieces of grass that stuck to her green dress. 

 "I heard the news that you will no longer be in my congregation."

 "Yes. My father has family in York. With his failing health, he thinks it wise for us to move there."

 Heahmund hummed in thought as he moved closer. Even though his face remained impassive, his heart clenched at the thought of her leaving. For who else would he look to while saying prayers at Mass? Who else would he recite scripture and poems to while they reclined next to the bubbling creek? Who else was kind enough to seek him out after he returned from a raid, to clean his wounds if any and make sure he was fed?

 "I shall keep your family in my prayers to our Lord." He whispered, now standing before her. "My congregation will not be the same without you…. or your family."

 She gazed shyly at him through those long eyelashes. "You are too kind, Bishop Heahmund."

 "You have denied yourself for many years to look after your ailing father and the rest of your family. If the Pope heard of all your sacrifices for your family and our church, he would name you a Saint."

 "I am nowhere worthy of sainthood. You tease me."

 A smile drew his lips upward as he watched her. "Perhaps a little."

 She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand as she looked downward. It took all of his willpower not to lay a hand beneath her chin, the draw those beautiful eyes back to his own, to gaze upon her beauty, both inside and out, for longer. To ask her to never leave him. 

 But it was not his place. No matter how he felt for her.  

 "If it is not too bold of me…." She broke through his turbulent thoughts, her sweet voice trailing off as she toyed with one of her sleeves. 

 "Go on." He encouraged, heart hammering away inside of him. 

 "I made something for you. It's not much, but…. but it's just something to remember me by and know you will be in my prayers as well…. for your protection against the heathens." Quickly she dropped to her knees, digging in the basket by her feet. 

 The basket had gone unnoticed by him as his focus resided with soaking in these last few minutes with her. For he was unsure if the Lord's work would bring him to York. She swiftly pulled something out and held it out with both hands like an offering. His eyes momentarily widened before he reverently reached out and clasped it in his hand. It was a white, square kerchief, soft and pure. It was when he looked at the corners that he truly saw the beauty of it. A small cross was stitched in one corner and in the other opposite corner was a grouping of three small, periwinkle flowers. 

 "Thank you, y/n, truly." He returned his gaze to her, struggling to keep the awe out of his tone. "I shall cherish your gift as if the Virgin Mary herself gave it unto me."

 She giggled, a coy smile on her face. "I would hope that she would bestow a better present for someone as holy as yourself."

 "I would never cherish it as much as yours." He admitted with more candor than he should. 

 Her gaze snapped to his then darted away like a startled bird. A weighty, tense silence hung over them, drawing them closer yet apart simultaneously. For it was this blissful, torturous attraction that left them both spellbound, lost to reality in the presence of the other. 

 Unable to stay away a moment longer, he cupped her cheek with his calloused hand, forcing her eyes to meet his. 

 "Bishop Heahmund…." She breathed out. 

 "Must I remind you to call me just Heahmund when we are alone?" 

 "Heahmund." She murmured, one of her hands coming to rest on the center of his chest. To anchor herself or him to this moment, he did not know. 

 Desire and longing colored the air around them. A tension that pushed their bodies closer without their awareness, until they could feel the breath of the other gliding across their lips. Something burned between them, this thing that remained unnamed for so long. Heahmund knew it was not lust. For that carnal sin was something he intimately knew and had used other women for, much to his disgrace. No, this was something far stronger, far more powerful, far more dangerous for both of them. For as the years passed, it never faded or wavered like a dying flame. It endured. 

 His gaze zeroed in on her bottom lip as his thumb caressed it with an almost-there touch. Her lips parted on a quiet gasp but she made no move to pull away. Those enchanting eyes beheld him with absolute trust. Something he was unworthy of. 

 After taking a deep breath, his hand traced down her neck, to her shoulder and down her arm to hold her hand leaving goosebumps in its wake. He brought her delicate hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to her knuckles. Then, regretfully, he released her hand. 

 "Come, I shall escort you back to the city. You should not linger out here alone for too long." He said, taking a step back. Needing space before he did something indecent and unbecoming of his station. 

 "Thank you." She replied automatically, blinking rapidly for a second as if waking from a dream. A dream he wished he could have further explored, to share openly with her. Bending down, she grabbed her basket and held it against her hip. 

 They walked back through the woods in silence, more spoken in their actions and looks than could ever openly cross their lips. With each step, Heahmund silently beseeched his God that this encounter would not be their last. Although she was his sweetest temptation, his forbidden apple in the garden, he could not abandon her. It was for her that he picked up a sword to fight the heathens that invaded their land. With what might he had, he would see her protected and defended, that the purity she wore like a veil, the benevolence that dressed her daily, the pure goodness she radiated, would never be blemished. 

 Even if he never had the honor of holding her against his body, of tasting the sweetness of her lips, to hear the pleasured cry of his name from her mouth, to ever be more than just a man of God to her. It was worth it. For she was his angel. 

 *****

 With eyes that could pierce stone in the raging fury bubbling beneath his skin, Heahmund stared at the city of York. 

 Captured by heathens. 

 Those damned sons of Ragnar Lothbrok. 

 Saxon warriors moved about him, none bothering him, either thinking he was strategizing how to reclaim the city or praying for the Lord's protection over His people as they beat back the devils. 

 What none knew, what no one could see, was the despair and wrath gnawing away in the bishop's mind. It took every ounce of his willpower to remain in the Saxon camp with the new King and his sons and not to scourge the city of the infestation of heathens. But to go seek for her. To find and protect her. Somehow in his heart, he knew she was down there. In what condition though, he dared not imagine. 

 When the two sons of Ragnar came in the night to talk of peace, his resolve almost broke. Questions of her coated his tongue like the sweetest of poisons, slowly driving him mad. Yet he swallowed them back down. Not just for fear of his fellow warriors learning of his unholy affections towards her; but fear if she was alive and the heathens realized the depth of his care for her. Surely it would bring about her doom. So when he slipped into their tent like a snake cornering its prey, his fists dirtied by the blood of the Ragnarssons, it was his silent promise to save her, that even from here he would protect her. 

 They must retake the city, to drive out the Vikings, for God and country and justice. Most importantly for him- they must retake the city so he could find her. 

 *****

 "You call me heathen, but to me, I am godly. I live by the gods."

 "There is only one God." Heahmund bit out. The chain around his neck was even more sharp than his tongue. 

 Ivar continued, arrogance dripping off each word. "But I have seen other gods. I have seen the Odin, the All-Father, with my own eyes."

 "They are the devil's work. He conjures up demons and fallen angels to beguile us. And lead us into evil."

 "What is evil?" The raven-haired heathen asked in a haughty undertone. 

 Heahmund sighed, dropping his chin back to his chest. His legs were growing weary beneath him, having been chained here for hours already and he saw no true reprieve in sight. "Slaughter of the innocent." He answered in a whisper. 

 "You slaughter when it suits you." 

 Rage filled the Bishop at the way this heathen turned his words, how he taunted with that arrogant smirk on his face, how he disrespected the one true God. "He who chooses to be heathen is not innocent." He shouted, pointing his finger in condemnation at the ungodly sinner beside him. Then for a moment he wondered if this was why he had been captured by the Danes. If this was all the Lord's mysterious work. His tone softened as he continued to stare at his captor. "But I could show you the ways of God, to salvation and eternal life."

 But it was all in vain. 

 He chuckled darkly, almost as if shocked that the bishop would even try to convert him. "Do you know who I am?"

 "Of course. You are Ivar…. son of Ragnar Lothbrok. Many there are that fear you." 

 "But not you."

 "No, I fear no man….no matter how wicked." Heahmund allowed the sneer to taint his voice at the end. For it was true. No matter the horrendous stories he heard about the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok, fear never sunk its claws into him. For he followed the Will of God. 

 There was only one reason alone that fear gripped him, tighter than a lover, slipped beneath his skin to momentarily poison his mind…. but that reason was gone now. Dead. 

 The two sat in silence for several minutes, a heathen and a bishop, lost in their own thoughts. Heahmund could not help but wonder as he eyed the young man, if this was all some bloody, gruesome game to him. Was he even capable of remorse? Fear? Mercy? Love? Or had the fires of hell already scourged them from his soul?

 The shackles around his wrists grew heavier by the hour. The chain around his neck chaffed. The cold mud beneath him seeped into his trousers, slowly injecting a chill into his bones, amplified by the chains keeping him bound. 

 "I beseech thee, Lord. Save me or show me why I am here. Grant me Your mercy. Do not cast be aside into the darkness. Grant me Your light so I may see." He murmured to himself. 

 The sound of a door opening just off to the side of Ivar could be heard but Heahmund paid no mind. He knew his time on earth was dwindling, for how much longer would the heathen bother to keep him? Surely, he would be killed in a cruel and painful way. When he first took up the sword to defend his faith and his people against the Danes, he assumed that was how his life would end. On a battlefield somewhere, surrounded by blood and screams, with his cross upon his chest and sword in hand. Not like this. Not a prisoner to be tortured for amusement. 

 A soft voice hesitantly spoke up from behind Ivar. "My prince, your brother…."

 That voice. Oh, that voice had haunted his dreams, but lately it had only been heard in his nightmares. She would beg for his help to save her, only to witness her dragged away or killed before his eyes, chains or ropes or fire keeping him imprisoned, unable to do more than scream her name. More than once he had jerked awake to find tears streaming down his cheeks. 

 Now his head jerked up, ears attuned, desperate to see or hear her again, to confirm she was alive and not just a hallucination. To know all his nightmares were wrong. 

 He prayed his nightmares were wrong. 

 Ivar beckoned her closer with an annoyed huff and a roll of his eyes. Then she appeared, as if from the mist. His fears confirmed. Her green dress was ripped and filthy. Her hair matted and unwashed. But it was the dark circles that lay beneath her dimmed eyes, the bruise on her cheek and the split lip that adorned her face which brought his rage to the surface, festering in his gut. His hands clenched into fists at the sight of her and images of what all she must have endured played in his mind. 

 The heathen snatched the cup from her outstretched hands, mumbling something in his own language. "Go." He arrogantly dismissed her with a wave of his hand as if she was some pest he detested. 

 As she turned to walk away, her eyes drifted over to Heahmund and she froze. Time stood still as their gazes locked. He watched as a series of emotions passed over her face- surprise, relief, concern, fear, worry- they all took their turn to shine from her eyes. He wondered if his own expression mirrored hers. Her name, that name that tasted like the sweetest of honey on his lips, danced on his tongue. How he wanted to pull her into his arms and never let her out of his sight. To promise no one would ever hurt her again. To press his lips to hers tenderly. His chest constricted as he witnessed a single tear slip from her right eye, washing away a streak of grime on her cheek. His own tears burned in his eyes, threatening to betray him. Here she was. Alive. But mistreated by these heathens. Something he could never forgive. 

 "You know this…. priest, thrall?" Ivar's amused voice broke their staring, like a bucket of cold water suddenly thrown on them. 

 She jerked, brought back to the here and now, that her and Heahmund were not alone. Wordlessly, she lowered her head and nodded. 

 "Ah, I see." Ivar's shrewd blue eyes jumped between the two as his smirk widened. "You may go to him. I will allow it for now. Ah! And here, give him this." He held the untouched cup out to her.

 Hesitantly, she reached out and took it, as if expecting it to get thrown in her face at the last minute. Keeping her gaze downcast, she walked the few steps to stand before Heahmund. Once more, she peered over to the side at Ivar, silently requesting his permission before proceeding. 

 "Let him drink! I am certain he is quite…. thirsty." The heathen chuckled, playing with his bottom lip. 

 "Y/n…" Heahmund started quietly but she interrupted him. 

 "Drink, please." Immediately, she brought the cup to his lips and carefully helped him to drink. At the slow pace she allowed the water to flow, it was perfect to quench his thirst but not fast enough he would choke on it. A skill she must have learned from the many times she was forced to take care of her ailing father. The whole time, he locked his gaze on her face, refusing to look away for even a moment. For fear of her vanishing. For fear of missing even a second of this cherished time in her presence. Even if he was bound in chains like a common criminal. 

 "Are you well?" He asked once she pulled the empty cup away from his mouth, keeping his voice low for some resemblance of privacy under the heathen's scrutinizing gaze. 

 She peeked at Ivar out of the corner of her eye before whispering back. "I'm alive."

 "Are they treating you well?"

 Her gaze dropped to her hands, clutching the cup. 

 And her silence burned through Heahmund like a wildfire. He knew it was foolish to ask as soon as he uttered the question. The evidence on her face was proof enough. But he had hoped for a different answer. Wanted a different answer. And the truth ate away at him like leprosy. For chained here…. a prisoner…. a prize…. he could do nothing to save her. To protect her. 

 His nightmare coming to pass. 

 He swallowed thickly, emotions clogging his throat. "Stay strong, y/n. The Lord knows the challenges we face and will give us strength to endure. We are not forgotten."

 She nodded, hastily wiping away another tear that slipped down her cheek. "What…. what about you? What will happen to you?"

 Her concern for him warned his soul more than a fire and hot meal ever could. Even amidst her circumstances, she worried for him. She cared about him. Heaven certainly lost an angel when she was born onto this earth. For she was far too good to not be one of the Lord's divine beings. 

 "I'm deciding if I want to keep him alive," Ivar interrupted, tone all together smug and cocky, "or crucify him, like your god. A fitting ending for his priest."

 She inhaled sharply, eyes widening at the revelation. 

 Heahmund wanted to comfort her, but words failed him as he gazed upon her. For his life was no longer in his own hands. A fate he despised. Before he could speak words that would hopefully bring her some solace, the heathen spoke again. 

 "Thrall, come here." Ivar commanded. She walked over to him with visible trepidation, cup still clutched in her hands. Instantly, he grabbed her wrist when she was close enough, the movement as sharp and fast as a viper. The cup dropped and bounced on the ground as she gasped. In the next moment he yanked her down to kneel before him, a soft cry slipping from her lips that seemed to spur him on, a malicious smile forming on his face. So reminiscent of a hungry wolf cornering a young lamb, the taste of blood already tainting the air. An allure the wolf feasted on shamelessly. 

 Heahmund could taste iron in his mouth from how hard he bit his tongue to keep from demanding her release. He could only watch helplessly as this devil toyed with her. 

 "Hmmm…. what is your name, thrall?"

 She said, voice barely above a whisper, eyes firmly planted on the dirt. "Y/n."

 Complacently, the heathen tipped her chin up, staring into her eyes for long enough she began to tremble. He chuckled, moving her face side to side and scanning her body like examining an item for sale at the market. "And who owns you now?"

 "Ha…. Haakon, my prince."

 "Ah. Haakon. A good warrior by our people. But I have heard he is not so kind to his thralls. Hmm?" He stated, but this time his smug gaze was directed at Heahmund, waiting for a reaction. Waiting to see what his latest prize would do. 

 At his statement, she flinched and it felt like a flaming sword was driven through Heahmund's gut. He made no appeal to mask his hatred nor fury, his eyes hard as stone as he met the heathen's unnatural blue eyes. In his mind, he swore to himself that he would never forget the name she spoke with such a mixture of fear and despair. Somehow, he would kill this man. God, help him. 

 Ivar grinned, still focused on his prisoner, even as he traced a finger over her split bottom lip, tears springing forth from her eyes. "Maybe I'll buy you from him. What do you think?"

 She just stared at the ground, body trembling. Completely submissive. Entirely surrendered. 

 "You may go. Tell my brother I will join him soon." Ivar said, releasing her chin. 

 Carefully she scrambled to her feet and took a hasty step back. Her watery gaze flickered over to Heahmund's, meeting his eyes. Oh, how he wished these chains no longer held him. He would slaughter every Dane in York in holy recompense for the abuse she endured. He would shield her with his body, keeping her close until the fear bled from her like poison from a wound, until she was the sweet, vibrant woman he knew. 

 "I said leave, thrall." 

 As if startled out of a dream, she jumped at Ivar's shout. Then spun around on her heel and disappeared the way she had come. The cup laid forgotten on the ground, having rolled away. 

 The bishop dropped his head to his chest. What was left of his heart slowly eroded away inside of him. Why must she be made to suffer at the hands of these devils? Was this why the Lord allowed him to be captured? To save her? 

 "Y/n…." The heathen rolled her name on his tongue, voice inquisitive with his following question. "What is she to you?"

 The Saxon remained silent. He owed his captor nothing. The heathen had no right to say her blessed name, let alone touch her. He was evil, darkness, something to be destroyed. To touch y/n, her perfect soul, was a crime against all that was holy and good. 

 "Ah, you act like she is nothing but I could see it in your eyes. You want her. Like a man wants a beautiful woman. But more than that…. she means something to you. So, answer my question or maybe I'll call her back and slit her throat in front of you."

 Heahmund licked his lips, debating what to say. "She is the Virgin Mary."

 "She's a virgin?" Ivar scoffed. "I doubt that's the truth anymore."

 "No," he snapped, glaring at Ivar before turning back to stare straight ahead. "She is holy and pure. She is the epitome of benevolence, something you would never understand. She is a soft breeze on a scorching day, the spring rain come to bring new life. She is the candle of fond memories, keeping away the dark thoughts that threatened to cloud my mind. She is…. y/n."

 "You love her."

 "How could I not?" He sighed, for that was the truth. No matter how hard he tried, prayed for deliverance, she had wormed her way into his heart and planted herself there like an oak tree.  

 "Well, if Haakon owns her, then she will be leaving soon to journey to Norway with us." Ivar stared at him for a moment before looking away. They sat in silence for several minutes before Ivar laughed and shifted from a sitting position. "Prepare yourself, Bishop Heahmund, you are coming on a journey with us."

 "I am already on a journey." He called out, voice unwavering. 

 "Aren't we all."

 He watched the heathen crawl away like an overgrown snake, deceptive and cunning, wondering what this journey meant for him. What it meant for her. Closing his eyes, shutting out his surroundings, he focused on the feeling of her kerchief tucked away under his tunic. Close to his heart.  

 *****

 The crowd jeered around him, a sound beating against his mind like a hammer. The stench of the ocean clogged his nostrils, the fish guts spilled on the docks and ground, the masses of unrighteous bodies pressing closer to have their chance to spit at him. For once, he was grateful that he did not understand their language so his ears would remain untainted by their insults and taunts. 

 The flaxen-haired Ragnarsson led the parade with Heahmund being the center of attention. Like a spectacle for all to see. A large blond Viking pulled on the chains binding his hands, chuckling at making Heahmund stumble drunkenly to keep his feet beneath him in the unsteady mud. The bishop spat out a mouthful of blood onto the mud. The cut on the inside of his lip a courtesy from a punch to the mouth by the brutish Viking who currently held the chains. 

 Stubbornly, he yanked on the chain binding him, refusing to let himself be dragged around like some stray mongrel. The brute growled at the Saxon and gave a strong pull, disrupting Heahmund's already unstable footing. In the next moment, he found himself face-first in the revolting mud. The cheers of the crowd exploded around him to new heights at his predicament. 

 Through sheer determination and a refusal to appear weak to these ungodly wretches, he rose back to his feet. Will unbroken. Though he walked through the valley of death, he refused to fear the evil around him. The Lord would provide a way. Somehow, he would be delivered. Carefully he wiped the mud from his face on his sleeve.

 Once back on his feet, he could see Ivar sitting at a nearby table. Although from the way he reclined, he acted more as if it was a throne. The infuriating smug look on his face as he met Heahmund's gaze. All resemblance of vulnerability and unveiled candor from the prior night was gone. Replaced with the arrogant warlord who sentenced people to death with laughter on his lips. 

 All night his mind wrestled with their conversation from the prior night. How could he fight for this godless heathen? Surely the Lord would smite him for that? Even if in the fighting he only killed more heathens. Was he not also a man of peace like the Lord Jesus Christ? Which was more important right now? Which one was stronger in times like these…. the olive branch or the sword?

 He walked with confidence until he noticed y/n standing just behind Ivar. His feet faltered for a moment, shocked to see her. Since their encounter in York, he had only snatched a glimpse of her as he was being loaded onto the boats. His mind wandered to her fate more than he cared to admit. There were many times as he sat alone, he gently toyed with the kerchief she made for him, touching the periwinkle flower sewed onto it. His thoughts on her and all his regrets. 

 Now his eyes quickly scanned her, noting the different dress she wore. Something rough and bland he had noticed other slaves wearing. She appeared no worse. The bruise on her cheek was gone, the split lip healed. Her hands clasped before her as if waiting for instruction as her eyes followed him. When they finally met, a flood of relief and concern passed between them. For no words needed to be spoken to understand the predicament they both were in. Both of their fates were no longer in their control, only in the Lord's and their captors'. 

 He could not help but wonder why she was here? To witness his shame? His death? What game was Ivar playing?

 As he watched her, his mind returned to his short burst of despair earlier. How he had called out to the Lord for deliverance. But if the Lord delivered him from the hands of these heathens…. would the Lord deliver her also? But did not the Lord send angels to protect the Virgin Mary as she carried Jesus in her womb? How could he then abandon y/n in her hour of need? For it was unthinkable to leave her alone in their clutches. And seeing her now, dressed as a slave, at the beck and call of the blood-thirsty Ragnarsson, Heahmund would rather slit his own throat than leave her alone. 

 Determination saturating his veins, he tried to move closer towards Ivar but as he took a step, the brutish Viking held him back with an animalistic grunt.

 Ivar waved a hand. "Let him approach, Haakon."

 For a moment, Heahmund froze, his blood boiling at the name. This name he swore he would always remember. He turned to stare at the brute with a newfound understanding, fury a living thing beneath his skin. This was the man who mistreated the one most precious to him. An unforgivable sin. A heinous crime. And with the mischievous glint in Ivar's eyes, the bishop knew the prince had purposefully orchestrated for them to meet. Tearing his fiery gaze away from the brutish Viking, he walked over to stand before Ivar like a convict awaiting judgment. 

 "Shhhh…." Ivar hushed the crowd, his voice carrying with an air of authority. "Now will decide if you fight for us." Grabbing the knife out of the table from beside him, he continued. "Or whether I kill you." He paused, pressing the knife to Heahmund's chest. When he spoke next, his voice was low, a harsh truth only to be heard between them. "Nothing is keeping you alive but me."

 The tip of the knife pressed against Heahmund's jerkin, not a threat but a promise depending on the bishop's choice. With his quiet sigh, he peered past Ivar to look at y/n one more time. One of her hands covered her mouth, eyes wide with fear. Only now was Heahmund able to see the red marks on her wrist, marking of chains, ones he knew he carried also. 

 Without hesitation, the Saxon warrior-priest whispered back, "If I fight for you, y/n goes free."

 Ivar leaned closer, smirk growing on his lips. "If you fight for me…. I will give her to you."

 "Hmmm…." Heahmund's gaze dropped down to the knife still touching his sternum for a second before returning to meet Ivar's penetrating gaze. "Why don't you give me the knife?"

 The manic excitement in Ivar's eyes should have scared Heahmund, but right now he needed blood on his hands. With a wicked grin, Ivar handed the knife over, as if already knowing what was to occur next. He accepted the knife with a huff, surprised Ivar gave it to him. Both smiled darkly at one another, the draw and lust for blood staining their lips. Revenge- a language they both spoke fluently. 

 Slowly Heahmund turned around, the knife pressed to his sternum like he was about to take his own life. Aware of the crowd's eyes on him, he stepped away from Ivar, back into the street. Closer to the brute Viking. 

 Haakon began yelling in his thickly accented English. "Die! Are you afraid?" He sneered, getting right into the bishop's face. "Do it! Coward. Do it!"

 Without a second thought, Heahmund slid the knife home into the Viking's neck. Blood spurting out, coating his hand gripping the knife. As the heathen gurgled, he spat blood onto the heathen's face. The blood on his face was for the punch Heahmund received from him. The knife, though, that was for her. His gift to her. To deliver her from the abuse of the ungodly. He could see death sinking its claws into the Viking, latching itself onto the man's soul to drag him to Hell. With that he let the man drop limply to the mud and threw the knife to the ground nearby. 

 He gazed over the silenced crowd with his piercing eyes, weaponless once again, and curious if one would fight him for revenge for Haakon. They stared back at him, a mixture of shock and anger on many of their faces. A slow clap and madden laughter startled him. He turned back to see Ivar clapping with an unhinged smile. 

 "He will fight with us!" Ivar yelled, arms outstretched as if in victory. 

 The crowd cheered. An example of how fickle a mob can be. As he arrived, being led like an animal to sacrifice, they cheered for his death. Now they cheered for his sword, to fight alongside him. 

 Suddenly a form slammed into him, almost knocking him off his feet. He tensed, prepared to fight until he looked down to see y/n burying her face against his chest, hands gripping his tunic. Her body trembled against his, muffled sobs reached his ears as she clung to him like a lifeline. The bishop lifted his gaze to meet Ivar's, who leaned forward with a side smirk, eyes intently watching the two. As their gazes met, Ivar made a subtle motion with his hand, a quick wave, as if telling him to accept his prize. 

 Careful because of the many eyes still on them and not wishing to cause her harm, he brought his bound hands around her, pulling her closer against him. Embracing her in a way he had only fantasized about. Using his body as a shield, blood staining his hands.

 "You are safe now." He murmured against the top of her head, a storm of emotion whirling in his heart and mind. "You are safe, I promise. I will not let anyone hurt you again. I am here, my angel."

 Silently, she looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks, washing away what grime had been on them. But it was the relief and adoration in her eyes that made him freeze. How she beheld him as if a miracle or answer to her prayers. A reverence in her gaze but also joy intermingled. 

 His heart constricted in his chest; air momentarily cut off by the strong emotion stirring within him. For he knew with every fiber of his being as he gazed down at her, he would do anything to protect her. Would travel any sea to keep her. Fight any army with just his sword by his side. Even sell his own soul to the devil to see her safe. 

 Glancing up at Ivar and the manic smile on his mouth, Heahmund wondered if he had done just that. 

[dilucbabe]

filthy

pairing: overhaul x fem!reader rating: m themes: priest kink, dubcon/noncon, emotional manipulation, spit kink, explicit sexual content, degradation, misogyny word count: 1.75k ao3 - request

His gloved fingers glide over your own, a smile adorning his lips. Funny, how such a simple gesture can mean so much to someone like Kai. It’s obviously no secret how uncomfortable he is with people showing their entitlement in thinking they’re allowed to come near his vicinity - to rub their filthy hands over him as if he merely stood on display. But it wasn’t just about the audacity that they showed with their thoughtless actions, far more, it was about the control that they took from him.

Kai is a man of action, a man of God. Someone who shows action and takes fate into his own hand, pulling it if needed. Not someone who lets things happen to him. He isn’t weak like that and he’d rather die than become so pathetic. His mission in life is to shield the weak ones from temptation and sin, to guide them to the right path, even if it means becoming forceful. Some might call him cruel, but truth be told, the perception of others is as important as the non-existent dirt under his fingernails. The only thing that truly matters that he obeyed the Allmighty, the church.

“Father?”, your voice is laced with sleep, eyes not yet open and Kai feels his heart stir at the sight alone. “Hmm, did something happen?” The innocence in the statement alone feels like pure gasoline to the flame that is his desire for you. Funny, how such a simple gesture can drive a man like Kai Chisaki to the brink of madness.

You’d come to the monastery on a rainy night, wet hair clinging to your frightened little face as you begged with utmost sincerity, “Please, father. I have nowhere to go. I- I need your guidance.”

You had practically breathed your plea, hands desperately clawing at your coat, the wet fabric doing nothing to shield you from the cold. If he were a different man, he would have felt his demeanour melt away, but he had remained strong. “Guidance, child?”

You cast your gaze away from him, shame bringing a pretty glow to your cheeks. “I’m a horrible woman. I-“, your bottom lip quivered, looking up at you with such over the top sorrow, it almost seemed comical. Almost. “I have seduced men without meaning to. I really didn’t, you have to believe me! Satan himself must reside within me!”

“First and foremost”, he had remained firm in his stance, albeit a bit more tense, though he couldn’t quite tell why. “There is nothing I have to do, aside from serving our Lord in Heaven. Not aid you, nor believe you.”

A high pitched squeal slipped past your chapped lips, clasping your hand over your mouth as though you had spoken out of turn. “I- Please-!”

“Still, you are in luck that God wouldn’t let me permit to turn my back on a poor sinner, so accepting of their own sins.”

It was, for the lack of a better word for it, thrilling to hear you beg like that, he remembers. It still is. Desperation and fear for condemnation – for punishment – has always been a big motivator for Kai. Instilling fear of what is good and righteous had always seemed like his one true calling, planting a seed of shame and guilt within people’s minds, to infest it and exorcise all evil from their very souls. A most gratifying experience he thanks the Lord every night in prayer.

Yet when it comes to you, he feels something stir inside of him. Maybe it is something akin to excitement, maybe it was hunger, maybe mere curiosity. Whatever it may be, he knows that it can only mean evil. What else could it be? You yourself have admitted upon being corrupted by the Devil, so he is but a man standing in the face of corruption.

Kai feels his pulse quicken, your legs spread open as though you are simply begging for him to be defiled by you. And who knows? Maybe you are. It wouldn’t be the first time, he’d caught your eyes taking his form with heaving bosom and wide eyes. Revolting slut that you are.

“Father?” He can see you trembling and he can feel himself swell with something akin to pride.

A cold smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, tugs at the corners of his lips, his hands now on your thighs, holding them in place. Even through his gloves, he can tell how warm you are to the touch – a temptation, if there ever was one. Though you might look the innocent maiden, he can see for what you truly are and maybe his purpose was to punish you for it, to set you right. Indeed, filling your hole with his seed might even cleanse you from all the filth of your very core.

God is on his side, he’s certain of it. He’d forgive his obedient servant’s sin if it meant saving a soul from the eternal flames of Satan. There simply is no other way.

Your eyes widen, any trace of exhaustion wiped clean from your face. “Please, no… I don’t want to-“

“Hush”, his fingers dig deep into your flesh, the promise of bruises blooming on your skin, making his cock stir. “You know that lying is a sin, don’t you? Let alone to a man of faith.”

Tears threaten to spill down your cheeks at any moment, hands desperately clawing at the covers Kai’s sitting on, trying to cover yourself, to no avail. “P- Please…”

“I didn’t ask you to beg. I asked you a question and I expect an answer.” He’s wedging himself between your legs now, knees pressing them apart, while his hands easily get a hold of your wrists, holding them in place. How come your words express such dread, when your body is so easy – so willing – to get overpowered by him? Even if you don’t quite realize it yourself, your mind is clouded with lies and sin. “Let’s try this again”, he pauses. “You’re aware that lying to a man of faith in considered a sin, yes?”

A slow nod. “Yes, father.”

“And although you should know better, you still actively choose to disobey the word from our Lord, yes?”

“It’s not a lie!” Even though your whole body is violently trembling with pitiful sobs, Kai can’t quite help it, but be in awe of your form. You make such a perfect victim, he’s sure, any artist would compare you to the likes of Mary and Joan d’Arc – suffering for the greater good. Although, of course, he knows you better than to fall prey to your manipulation.

Pressing your balled up fists against his cock, he snarls in pure disdain, “Don’t play coy with me. Do you think I’m blind to your lust? Do you think yourself a victim to the attention of men you so desperately seek out?”

You flinch upon contact, though Kai notes, how you momentarily halt your wails, a faint squeal escaping you. He wonders, is that still part of the act that you’re trying to keep up or if you’re rightfully in stunned at the size of him. He grows harder just thinking about burying himself to the hilt inside your vile cunt. “N- no! Father, I never meant to- to-“

“For me to notice?”, he snaps and by the shock written all across your features he knows that he’s right. “You perverted whore.”

“It was never my intention to seduce you! I’m not lying! I swear, the Lord is my witness, I-“

Thwack. The sting on your cheek is relentless, but it’s a necessary evil. You have to learn how to behave, that there are consequences to your misdeeds, even if he has to beat it into you. “How dare you use the Lord’s name to spout all this nonsense”, it’s no question, but a statement. “I have no patience for whores with silver tongues.”

Kai leans over you, holding your wrists over your head, relishing in the sight of you being completely at his mercy. Your meek hiccups did nothing but spur him on even further, solidifying his decision in cleansing you free. “I’m so- sorry. You were so kind to me and took me under your wing when I needed help and- and I just…”

You squirm under his ever so watchful eyes. “Filthy thing”, his fingers enclose around your jaw, fingers forcing your lips to pucker open and spits. “To think giving you shelter would be enough was foolish of me, but we know better now, don’t we? You’re in need of drastic measures and it is me who has to whip you into shape. But fear not, I will not falter to bring you to the light side. I’ll fuck the virtue into you if I need to.”

It all happens so fast, you can barely keep up. One moment he hikes up the skirt of your frilly, little nightgown, chilly air hitting your exposed skin, the next he’s pumping his leaking cock right in front of your pussy lips. You try with all your strength – which admittedly, isn’t a lot – to get away from him, but he’s a strong man. And you should already know, shouldn’t you? Haven’t you spent night and night again, admiring his physique when he so graciously read the bible for you? Haven’t you fantasized about those very arms holding your naked body against his as he’d plunge into you in rapid speed? He’s right, you muse, you’re nothing but a common slut.

“God forgive me”, he groans and gets to work.

Funny, how such innocent glances can lead to such thorough punishment. Or was it redemption at last? You can’t tell anymore – too lost in the feelings of his palm, striking your thighs, face, tits; his hips clashing into your own with such force, it’s hard not to wince from pain; his stern look casting down at you and promising both salvation and damnation. Filthy thing, you repeat in your head, filthy, filthy, filthy. You should be grateful a man of God deems you worthy of his attention, let alone his cock.

Your insides are burning and your lungs feel like they might give out any minute, too exhausted from all the sobbing and crying, but Kai stays relentless. “Father, please”, you plead.

His response is sinister, but you know, a filthy thing like you deserves it. “Patience is a virtue”, he pants. “But what would you know about virtue?”

And he’s right.

[spidernerdsblog]

Love Is The Biggest Spell : Chapter Five

A/N : Chapter five is here. This chapter should have been posted on Halloween lol but never mind. Hope you like this chapter. Feedbacks and suggestions are always welcome.

Pairing : Warlock Tom Holland x half mortal reader

Summary : Witches are forbidden to fall in love with mortals. But what if your long lost love returns to you as a mortal, can you defy your heart? Any spell any magic seems useless in front of the magic of love. Let’s join our lovers in their magical conquest beyond life and death as they fight for their love unravelling dark mysteries of the past along their way.

Warnings : mild language, witchy stuff.

Mini Playlist : Can't help falling in love with you

After you had your breakfast Tom drove you to college. You were walking to your classroom. 

"Y/N!" You heard the voice you despise the most right now call out to you. You didn't look back and quickened your pace. 

"Y/N, Y/N, Y/N hey wait please." Cole ran to you grasping your wrist. 

"Leave my hand, Cole!" You yanked your hand away from him. 

"Y/N just listen to me for once I can explain." he pleaded. 

"What more do you have to explain, Cole? That you were making out with me but magically it turned out to be someone else."

"Yeah exactly." 

"Cole can you just stop now. I'm not going to judge your life choices but I hope you enjoyed sucking her mouth." 

"Y/N please you can't do this to me."

"Umm mate I think Y/N made it quite clear that she doesn't want to talk to you." Tom intervened. 

"Listen dude let's just not pretend that this isn't the best day of your life. So please stay out of this"

"Cole! You can’t talk to him like that.” 

"A guy showed you a little affection for one night and now he is the good guy. So typical of you Y/N." you were literally hurt by his words.

"You know what Cole? I was actually thinking of forgiving your not so sorry ass but now I'm so over that thought, we are done for good Cole!"

"C'mon Tom let's go." You stormed off dragging Tom with you by his wrist to the library. 

You slumped down on the seat as Tom took the opposite seat to you 

"I can't believe Cole would say that! I'm an attention seeker? Seriously?!" You seethed. 

"How did you guys even fall in love?" Tom asked out of courtesy though he had no interest in knowing that. 

"You know childhood best friends it was like we owed to date each other." you shrugged.

"Maybe we can do something to divert your attention?" 

"And what is that?" 

"Finish our assignment I guess that's still pending." 

"Seriously?" you gave a disinterested look. 

"What? That is much better than talking about your douchebag boyfriend, ex boyfriend" 

"Yeah maybe some witchy stuff can help keep me distracted." you walked to the shelves and pulled out some books and placed them on the desk with a loud thud. You picked up a book and were turning over some pages in a book and stumbled upon something as you frowned. 

"What’s Dark Baptism?" 

"Huh oh it's a sort of ceremony. The Dark Baptism is the most sacred, unholy sacrament the witches practiced for centuries. The oldest of their rites. A novice witch signs his or her name in the Book of the Beast, and gives the Dark Lord dominion over their soul and in exchange he gives them unlimited power and eternal youth." Tom explained. 

"Huh what’s the use of such powers if I have to give up my freedom of will?" you scoffed. 

"It’s the only one of several possible interpretations, see like all religions have symbolic gestures and demand sacrifices right?" 

"Signing the Book of the Beast is more like a pledge to abide by the devil's commandments." 

"But the Dark Lord aka Satan is the embodiment of evil." You state. Tom corrects you immediately. 

"As per texts he is the embodiment of free will and that he goes beyond the mere concepts of good and evil and the infernal punishment of the "False God"."

"So what about Hell?" you ask.

"If you accept the Dark Lord's gifts, then you won't die for a long time and Hell is for mortals. In exchange for their service and devotion, witches are exempt from the eternal flames of damnation." Tom explains. 

"That's some crazy ass bullshit." You laugh it off. 

"But you seem to have quite in-depth knowledge about these things. Do you happen to practice witchcraft in secret?" you narrowed your eyes. 

"Maybe, who knows" he shrugs." Why are you so invested in knowing all this?" he counter questioned you. 

"Nothing just general curiosity that's it." You shrug. 

"General curiosity or is it about the visions or nightmares whatever you have." Tom smirked.

"Who-who told you.." You stutter. 

"Jane told Harrison and he told me."

"Those are just some stupid dreams that's all."

"Or may be not, maybe you are a psychic or a witch "

“Ha ha very funny.”

"Okay leave all that." Tom cleared his throat. 

"Hey I know it would be really inappropriate for me to ask you. You know you can totally say no."

''Hey it's okay we are friends now c'mon spill it out." you held his hand reassuringly.

"Umm my mother seems to have liked you a lot the day you stopped by our house and wants me to invite you to our Halloween party. It's kind of a spooky themed business gala. "

"Your mother likes me or you?" you narrowed your eyes with a sly smirk.

"No I swear my mom told me to invite you." Tom flustered.

"Okay then tell your mom that I would love to go."

"Oh thanks." Tom’s eyes lit up like a child.

"And by the way if you want me to be your date just ask." You winked. 

"It's - it's nothing like that." he stuttered. 

"Relax anyways I'm single now." you giggled.

"So what are you divs doing?" Harrison dropped in between your conversation.

"Nothing just getting ready for my dark baptism." You chuckled though Harrison gave a mortified look as he exchanged glances with Tom. Who shook his head dismissively to let him know he hasn't said anything. 

“Uh okay..have you seen Jane anywhere?" 

"Why do you also need some attention?" You joked lazily placing a hand on Harrison's shoulder and instantly backed off with a light gasp. 

"You okay?" Harrison asked looking at your horrified expression.

"Yeah, yeah I'm-I’m  fine." you stammered blinking your eyes.

"I'll go and find Jane." You walked away huskily. 

…….........

Agatha and Zendaya visited a farm to purchase a black goat to be used for sacrifice during your dark baptism in the woods. 

"What is on your mind mother? A few days ago you wanted that half breed dead but now you are here arranging for her dark baptism. I don't understand any of this."

"Well you three failed in your task and I'm grateful to Satan for that this time because I recently found out she is the key to perform the spell by which our coven will gain infinite powers."

"What spell?"

"For now you don't need to know more than this. Just remember that girl needs to be protected."

…………..

It's 31st of October and you are officially 25. You were at the cafe as Jane came in all bubbly and chirpy.

“Happy Birthday babe!!!” Jane exclaimed, giving you a tight hug.

“Thank you babe.” Tom and Harrison dropped in after sometime.

“Isn’t it your birthday day? Why the hell are you working today?”. 

“Because it’s my birthday.”

"Well somebody has got the whole concept of birthday wrong." tom quipped.

“Here we brought something for you.” He placed a cake box on the table.

“Jane dear can you arrange this for us please.” Harrison asked her sweetly.

“Of Course will.”

“Seriously guys you didn’t have to do this.” Jane was quick to arrange the cake on a tray with some candles and placed it in front of you. You blow out the candles as they sing for you.

“Thank you so much guys.” your heart swelled in happiness.

“We would have loved to stay but we have another party to arrange so see you girls in the evening.” Harrison said.

“I'll pick you up at seven.” Tom informed you softly.

“Will be waiting.” You smiled. After they left you turned to Jane. 

"Can I ask you something?" 

"Yeah what?" 

"What do you know about Harrison? Apart from he's a sex God. His family and life." you snickered.

"Umm they are rich, business partners with the Hollands. Loves his mom and sister a lot. Why?" 

"Nothing, you are my best friend just don't want you to fall for the wrong guy. I finally learnt my lesson. Heh." You chuckled slowly. 

“Don’t worry babe if he does something bad I’ll give you the privilege of kicking his ass.” She laughed and went to the back of the shop. 

Now how will you tell her that when you touched him you had one of your stupid visions. You saw blood, pentacles, human skulls, it felt so inauspicious the darkness engulfing you. Your eyes went to the blown out birthday candles and you suddenly remembered about the night where the candle caught fire on it’s own. Then you recalled Tom saying that you may be psychic and you suddenly got the idea of testing the fact.

"This is all a hoax, I'm not psychic nor a witch. I was drunk and was seeing things." you said to yourself and took a deep breath.

"Well here goes to nothing." You focused on them but nothing happened. 

"Huh, definitely a hoax" you blew out your cheeks and turned to do your work. But when you turned around again to your surprise each and every candle was lit up magically. You exhaled deeply, frowning.

……………

Reaching home you went to your room and saw a big gift box kept on your bed. You took the lid off the box to find an expensive black dress with a note. 

Happy Birthday Y/N. Will be really happy if you wear this tonight.  Love T. H

You smiled and held out the dress in front of you admiring it in the full length mirror in your room, it was the most exquisite thing you have ever seen. The soft silky fabric with intricate lace work was literal work of art. You changed into the dress and decided to let your hair down for tonight with minimal jewelry and makeup. 

Meanwhile Tom and Harrison were getting ready in their finest tux for the gala and your baptism. 

"You really gifted her the wedding dress." 

"Well it's an important night for her she will be turning into a complete witch and hopefully her memories will come back after that." Tom said, fixing his cufflinks. 

"You ready son?" Nikki walked into his room. 

"Yes mother." Nikki could see in his eyes that something was bothering him. 

"Don't worry I talked to your father and I will be presenting your dear Y/N for her baptism." Tom's eyes lit up hearing the news. It's usually the mother who presents her child for the baptism but your mother will not be able to attend it so the whole thing of who will be presenting you was bugging him for a while. And hearing that his mother is going to do that relieved him. 

"Really mother! Thank you so much." 

"I’m really happy that you’re finally going to be happy in your life son." 

Tom was there to pick you up sharp at 7. You stepped out of your house as you saw him waiting for you leaning against his car. He couldn't take his eyes off you. You literally looked like an angel he thought.

"You look gorgeous, love."

"Thank you, you look surprisingly dapper too." 

"Thank you." 

"But you didn't have to buy me such an expensive dress. The whole night now I will be so self conscious of not ruining the dress."

"I will buy you a new one don't worry."

"Ha ha not happening again. Now let’s go"

He opened the door of the car for you as you sat inside the car. You reached his place in an hour and stepped out of the car holding his hand as he led you inside. 

You walked into the ballroom and your breath was caught at the grandeur. You’d never been in a space that made you feel so small–or so plain. Crystal chandeliers spiraled down from the arching sky-blue ceiling, illuminating the glimmering golden walls and a floor so polished it looked like an iced-over lake. And it wasn’t just the ballroom–the women sparkled like a box of jewels, shades of emerald and ruby and amethyst swirling before you, their low chatter accompanying wafts of rose and hyacinth and jasmine.

"Whoa dude am I supposed to be a part of this gala? I mean just look at all the people around." you gave out a nervous laugh.

"You were always supposed to be here Y/N."

You are immediately greeted by Jane and Harrison.

“Hey you made it!” Jane hugged you and your dress caught her eyes.

“Damn girl now that’s a one of a kind ball gown.” She giggled as you blushed.

“Only for the one of a kind girl.” Tom snickered.

You, Tom, Harrison and Jane then hit the dance floor, slow music playing.

Wise men say Only fools rush in But I can't help falling in love with you

You clasped on to his hand placing another hand on his shoulder blade as he did the same. You began moving back and forth waltzing around the ballroom. Spinning and circles and shuffling your feet to the slow, rhythmic music. It was paradise, but even more so when your eyes met.

Shall I stay? Would it be a sin? If I can't help falling in love with you

His eyes were chocolate brown, which made your knees buckle and your lips quiver. He narrowed his eyes slightly and let out a small chuckle. Your dress was getting in the way and your heels were making you clumsy or you were actually clumsy around him. He noticed your discomfort and changed his stance making it easier for you to follow. His grip tightened on your hand giving it a comforting squeeze making your heart skip a beat.

Like a river flows Surely to the sea Darling, so it goes

You swayed to the music, bodies so close, his hand still grasping yours. This was perfect as if time stood still, your gaze filled with burning desires as he looked down to your slightly parted lips. Tom was trying to get a read on you as you looked at you longingly. You could feel your cheeks burning and you knew you're blushing on the outside which only made his smile grow wider.

Some things are meant to be So take my hand Take my whole life, too For I can't help falling in love with you For I can't help falling in love with you

He dropped your hand but before you could frown he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled your body even more closer. His kind, smiling face met yours as you felt his sweet, warm breath fanning your face. Your breath hitched all that brooding, pining and longing stares just for this magical moment. Out of instinct you tilted your face a little, closing your eyes. But instead Tom knelt down to your ear  and whispered.

“Parere mandatis meis.” You opened your eyes with a vacant gaze as if someone robbed you of your emotions and reasoning. You stood there like a living statue. 

"Y/N now listen to me carefully you are going to do whatever I say okay?" 

"Yes." You nodded in a mechanical fashion. Agatha walked towards you.

"Is she ready?" 

"Yes Lady Layman”

"Good then bring her to the altar." 

“Was the hypnosis necessary?”

“You got a better idea to make your non believer half witch willingly go through her baptism?” Agatha quipped.

“No” He answered lowly.

“Then bring her outside fast midnight is approaching, the blood moon will appear soon.” She ordered.

The party moves outside, where the moon is at its fullest and begins to turn red. With midnight approaching, everyone rushes off into the woods. Tom took you to a gate burning with blue flames, you pass through the blue flames unharmed and arrive at your baptism, where the Holland's, Osterfield's, Layman's, and many other important delegates are in attendance. 

"All this grandeur for a half breed's baptism, how pathetic is that?" Zendaya quipped, rolling her eyes. 

The priest assigned for your baptism arrived at the altar.

"Welcome daughter of Night" 

"Who presents this girl for unholy baptism?" He reckons.

"I do." Nikki states. 

"We are gathered here in these woods in the presence of our dark lord, with all the souls, the living and the dead, of our coven

the most unholy church of dark." He addresses. 

"Kneel child." You kneel in front of him in your trance. 

The priest smears blood over your forehead and read you your rights and demands your loyalty.

"There is no law beyond. Do what thou wilt." He states. 

"Our dark lord asks - 

" Would you like to be happy child, to be free?" 

"Free to love and to hate? To be what nature meant you to be, true to her laws and yourself only?" you stay numb Tom takes the initiation. 

"Say yes Y/N." 

"Yes, father." You say as you were told. 

"Do you believe in Lucifer, the archangel, who preferred the loss of Heaven to that of his pride?" 

"Yes, father." 

"In exchange for this belief, you shall be granted powers that will enable you to be of service to the dark lord." 

"Y/N Warren are you willing to forsake the path  of light and follow the path of night wherever it may lead you?" 

"I am" 

"And are you willing to place our dark lord above all others in your life, be it your loved ones, friends, family." you pause for a moment but under the hypnosis spell even if you wanted to but you couldn't make your own decisions. 

"I ...am" 

"Then it's time to sign his book." The weather started to deteriorate as strong winds started to blow and thunder rumbling at a distance could be heard. 

Meanwhile at your home your mother was turning restless with the sudden change in the weather she ran to your Aunt Rose's room. 

"Rose what's happening?"

"It's about time Martha." Rose says coldly. 

"What do you mean? Where is Y/N?" Martha panicked. 

"Don't worry she will be fine but for some people this is the beginning of their end"

"Mom what's happening?" Erica came running too. 

"Oh Erica you are here can you fetch me the ancestral calcified bowl." Erica did as she was told. 

"Martha give me the ashes of Amber." She handed over a bottle of ash as Rose poured it in the bowl. She lit the candles around the bowl with her magic and chanted. 

"Here and now 

I evoke the elemental force of Fire

the flames of creativity and passion

dancing source of heat, light and life. 

I seek the flowing forge within

I call you forth to burn away

All that impedes my highest vision

And to enact change in the world

Lightning and hearth

Hearth and forge

Fire, I call thee hence" 

Rose focused on the ashes in the bowl as flames erupted in it. 

"Y/N wake up, recognize your true self" 

“Phasmatos Incendia Ignis absumet Ignarious. Ignarious! Ignarious Ignalusa”

Meanwhile you were standing at the altar and an ancient book was kept open on the flat stone in front of you. The priest took a knife and made an incision on your hand as a drop of blood flowed down from the cut on the page. Tom was behind you as the priest signalled him to proceed; he took your hand with the pen to sign your name in the book. Just when you were about to sign the Dark Lord’s Book of the Beast with your blood, Rose's invocation ritual broke the hypnosis spell on you and you were snapped out of your trance. The fog that clouded your mind got lifted as you felt light headed. It took awhile for you to process what was happening around you. 

"You swear to obey without any question any order you may receive from tHe dark lord, or from any figure He placed in authority over you." 

"In signing you swear to give your mind, body, and soul unreservedly to the furtherance of the designs of our lord satan." The priest went on.

"No!!" You yanked your hand away from Tom's grasp. 

"What do you mean no child?" the priest frowned. 

"Who are you? Where the hell am I?!" You looked around in confusion. 

"Tom what's going on? Where's Jane?!" you look at him with panic stricken eyes. 

"Y/N,love, listen to me this is for your own good just complete the ritual" 

"Is this some kind of Halloween prank because it's not funny."

"You think you are sick with some neural disease that is why you can't feel warmth. Y/N don't you understand that you are not human." Tom tried to make you understand.

“Tom why are you so up to prove that I’m some sort of psychic?”

''You are a smart girl Y/N don't tell me the visions you get doesn't seem real? That you didn't light up a candle just by focusing your mind on it." agatha quipped.

"You are a half witch Y/N magic runs in your blood and to reach your full potential you have to submit to our Dark Lord" 

"Whatever I maybe there is another path for me. A third way. And even if there isn't, my name is Y/N Warren, and I will not sign it away!" you stated. 

"If you don't complete the ritual then you have to face the wrath of the dark lord." Agatha warned. 

"The only thing I'm gonna do is to get away from you jackass people."

The coven tries to stop you from escaping as everyone chanted in unison. 

“Crescere arbor” 

While you attempt to escape you become entangled in magical possessed vines which held you to your place.

"Why can't I move?" you struggled to free yourself. 

"You're not leaving unless and until you complete the ritual."

Suddenly the stone of your antique necklace starts glowing, emitting a reddish orange aura which just grew in intensity as time passed blinding your eyes. A sudden rage started to grow inside trying to burst out. 

Your body was shaking imminently as the blazing inferno coursing inside you was becoming too much for your body to handle. You forced your eyes open and a chill ran down the spines of everyone present for the ceremony. You irises appeared like burning coals of fire. 

They flashed with anger, a burning animosity growing in your amber orbs. Tom couldn't recognize you anymore you appeared to be a totally different person. 

Flares started erupting from your hands soon turning into flames ready to engulf anyone that came in your way. The flames spread to the magical vines holding you as they were burned into ashes setting you free. You gasped as you looked at your hands on fire. 

"What's happening?! What did you guys do to me?!" You panicked. 

"Y/N, love calm down. Just try to control it"

"I can't!!'' You growled 

"I can help, just let me help you Y/N" 

"No! Don't come near me." You warned with a hoarse voice. A ring of fire formed around you.

"Tom do something or she will burn down the whole forest." Harrison said in panic. 

''You've nothing to fear no one will do you any harm."

"Just calm down and everything will be fine. Close your eyes and focus, love"

You closed your eyes taking in measured breaths trying to calm yourself. It worked as the raging inside you dissipated. Your hands were no more on fire. 

"Suctus Incendia" everyone chanted in unison and the fire died down. 

You on the other hand felt weak and drained out as you collapsed on the ground unconscious. 

…………………………………………………………………..

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[fifthes]

❝ —- now, you of all people should know that a broken contract is a greatly punishable offence.  ❞

@geosis      :      unprompted      :      always  accepting.

        𝙿𝙴𝚁𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚂  𝙱𝙴𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙴  𝚆𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳     little  trickster  heed  the  archon’s  word  with  some  sort  of  warning;      maybe  geo  lord  could  incite  a  kind  of  warning  into  the  marrow  of  forsaken  bone  like  he  managed  before  zhihuo’s  imprisonment,      but  what  is  a  god’s  gospel  to  a  non  -  believer    ?    what  good  are  high    &.    mighty  words  to  one  who  loathes  the  divine  more  than  anything  else  in  this  world    ?    𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵  𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦  𝘮𝘦  𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩.    a  rumble  of  a  chuckle  resonates  through  shoulders,      oozes  betwixt  peach  lips  in  disrespectful  cadence  before  singular  eye  locks  ‘pon  those  mirroring  their  own.     “    i  respected  you  once,      before  you  let  her  fall.   ”      indeed  a  beacon  of  power,      a  presence  to  be  feared    &.    respected  before  all.   𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙰𝚇:      name  symbolising  power,      the  appointed  ruler    &.    heart  of  liyue  for  all  these  centuries   . . . .    it’s  a  shame  that  those  who  put  their  trust  in  him  were  wrong.    that  guizhong  was  wrong  to  ever  believe  in  a  pile  of  walking  rubble.      “    this  fire  that  burns  in  me  does  more  than  your  silly  little  contract  could  ever;      or  has  countless  years  made  you  forget  when  i  tore  our  enemies  apart    ?    burnt  them  to  naught  but  ash  in  a  way  that  made  even  you  cringe,      ‘o  god  of  war.   ”      zhihuo  taunts,      lips  unfurling  in  a  sneer  sure  to  make  any  calm  god  simmer  with  an  ancient  type  of  rage.

        he  should  have  expected  this  when  they  turned  on  everyone.    on  this  nation  of  contracts;      they  traded  their  beloved  homeland  for  ice    &.    snow,      waters  leaving  them  with  burns  that�� once  illuminated  wouldn’t  trade  the  world  for  now.   𝘪  𝘯𝘰  𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳  𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳  𝘵𝘰  𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘦  𝘨𝘰𝘥𝘴,      𝘯𝘰𝘵  𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯  𝘮𝘺  𝘰𝘸𝘯.

        “    you  of  all  people  should  know  the  ambition  that  rests  within  the  soul  of  an  adepti,    no    ?   ”     they  parrot  before  him,      relishing  the  way  piercing  tuscan  sun  gaze  into  zhihuo’s  own  like  that  of  a  pointed  knife.    “    it’s  embedded  into  our  bones,      tied  tight  with  red  threads    &.    wire.    &.   to  think  those  who  no  longer  serve  you  would  take  your  warnings  to  heart  is  foolish.  ”     harbinger  summons  a  ball  of  flame  into  palm,      weaves  it  ‘round  fingers  void  of  fear  of  being  burnt  alive,      as  if to  prove  their  point.   they  don’t  need  him  to  be  strong  anymore.   long  since  has  zhongli  fulfilled  his  purpose  to  them,      &.    now  he’s  just  a  washed  up  pebble  by  the  sea.    “    when  the  time  comes,      i  will  personally  ensure  that  this  nation  goes  down  in  ruins.    i  will  take  what  is  mine,      &.    watch  you  suffer  before  the  flames  of  damnation.   ”

[aadeguzman]

SERMON XIV. QUINQUAGESIMA SUNDAY – DELUSIONS OF SINNERS ~ St Alphonsus

Delusions Of Sinners

“Lord, that I may see.” LUKE xviii. 41

1. THE Devil brings sinners to hell by closing their eyes to the dangers of perdition. He first blinds them, and then leads them with himself to eternal torments. If, then, we wish to be saved, we must continually pray to God in the words of the blind man in the gospel of this day, “Lord, that I may see.” Give me light: make me see the way in which I must walk in order to save my soul, and to escape the deceits of the enemy of salvation. I shall, brethren, this day place before your eyes the delusion by which the devil tempts men to sin and to persevere in sin, that you may know how to guard yourselves against his deceitful artifices.

2. To understand these delusions better, let us imagine the case of a young man who, seized by some passion, lives in sin, the slave of Satan, and never thinks of his eternal salvation. My son, I say to him, what sort of life do you lead? If you continue to live in this manner, how will you be able to save your soul? But, behold! the devil, on the other hand, says to him: Why should you be afraid of being lost? Indulge your passions for the present: you will afterwards confess your sins, and thus all shall be remedied. Behold the net by which the devil drags so many souls into hell. “Indulge your passions: you will hereafter make a good confession.” But, in reply, I say, that in the meantime you lose your soul. Tell me: if you had a jewel worth a thousand pounds, would you throw it into a river with the hope of afterwards finding it again? What if all your efforts to find it were fruitless? God! you hold in your hand the invaluable jewel of your soul, which Jesus Christ has purchased with his own blood, and you cast it into hell! Yes; you cast it into hell; because according to the present order of providence, for every mortal sin you commit, your name is written among the number of the damned. But you say. “I hope to recover God’s grace by making a good confession.” And if you should not recover it, what shall be the consequences? To make a good confession, a true sorrow for sin is necessary, and this sorrow is the gift of God: if he does not give it, will you not be lost for ever?

3. You rejoin: “I am young; God compassionates my youth; I will hereafter give myself to God.” Behold another delusion! You are young; but do you not know that God counts, not the years, but the sins of each individual? You are young; but how many sins have you committed? Perhaps there are many persons of a very advanced age, who have not been guilty of the fourth part of the sins which you have committed. And do you not know that God has fixed for each of us the number of sins which he will pardon?” The Lord patiently expecteth, that, when the day of judgment shall come, he may punish them in the fulness of their sins.” (2 Mach. vi. 14.) God has patience, and waits for a while; but, when the measure of the sins which he has determined to pardon is tilled up, he pardons no more, but chastises the sinner, by suddenly depriving him of life in the miserable state of sin, or by abandoning him in his sin, and executing that threat which he made by the prophet Isaias” I shall take away the hedge thereof, and it shall be wasted.” (Isa. v. 5.) If a person has cultivated land for many years, has encompassed it with a hedge for its protection, and expended a large sum of money on it, but finds that, after all, it produces no fruit, what will he do with it? He will pluck up the hedge, and abandon it to all men and beasts that may wish to enter. Tremble, then, lest God should treat you in a similar manner. If you do not give up sin, your remorse of conscience and your fear of divine chastisement shall daily increase. Behold the hedge taken away, and your soul abandoned by God a punishment worse than death itself.

4. You say: “I cannot at present resist this passion.” Behold the third delusion of the devil, by which he makes you believe that at present you have not strength to overcome certain temptations. But St. Paul tells us that God is faithful, and that he never permits us to be tempted above our strength. “And God is faithful, who will not permit you to be tempted above that which you are able.” (1 Cor. x. 13.) I ask, if you are not now able to resist the temptation, how can you expect to resist it hereafter? If you yield to it, the Devil will become stronger, and you shall become weaker; and if you be not now able to extinguish this flame of passion, how can you hope to be able to extinguish it when it shall have grown more violent? You say: “God will give me his aid.” But this aid God is ready to give at present if you ask it. Why then do you not implore his assistance? Perhaps you expect that, without now taking the trouble of invoking his aid, you will receive from him increased helps and graces, after you shall have multiplied the number of your sins? Perhaps you doubt the veracity of God, who has promised to give whatever we ask of him? “Ask,” he says, “and it shall be given you.” (Matt. vii. 7.) God cannot violate his promises. ”God is not as man, that he should lie, nor as the son of man, that he should be changed. Hath he said, then, and will he not do?” (Num. xxiii. 19.) Have recourse to him, and he will give you the strength necessary to resist the temptation. God commands you to resist it, and you say: “I have not strength.” Does God, then, command impossibilities? No; the Council of Trent has declared that “God does not command impossibilities; but, by his commands, he admonishes you to do what you can, and to ask what you cannot do; and he assists, that you may be able to do it.” (Sess. 6. c. xiii.) When you see that you have not sufficient strength to resist temptation with the ordinary assistance of God, ask of him the additional help which you require, and he will give it to you; and thus you shall be able to conquer all temptations, however violent they may be.

5. But you will not pray; and you say that at present you will commit this sin, and will afterwards confess it. But, I ask, how do you know that God will give you time to confess it? You say: “I will go to confession before the lapse of a week.” And who has promised you this week? Well, then you say: ” I will go to confession tomorrow.” And who promises you tomorrow? “Crastinum Deus non promisit,” says St. Augustine, “fortasse dabit, et fortasse non dabit.” God has not promised you to-morrow. Perhaps he will give it, and perhaps he will refuse it to you, as he has to so many others. How many have gone to bed in good health, and have been found dead in the morning! How many, in the very act of sin, has the Lord struck dead and sent to hell! Should this happen to you, how will you repair your eternal ruin?”Commit this sin, and confess it afterwards.” Behold the deceitful artifice by which the devil has brought so many thousands of Christians to hell. We scarcely ever find a Christian so sunk in despair as to intend to damn himself. All the wicked sin with the hope of afterwards going to confession. But, by this illusion, how many have brought themselves to perdition! For them there is now no time for confession, no remedy for their damnation.

6. ”But God is merciful.” Behold another common delusion by which the devil encourages sinners to persevere in a life of sin! A certain author has said, that more souls have been sent to hell by the mercy of God than by his justice. This is indeed the case; for men are induced by the deceits of the devil to persevere in sin, through confidence in Gods mercy; and thus they are lost. “God is merciful.” Who denies it? But, great as his mercy, how many does he every day send to hell? God is merciful, but he is also just, and is, therefore, obliged to punish those who offend him. ”And his mercy,” says the divine mother, ”to them that fear him.” (Luke i. 50.) But with regard to those who abuse his mercy and despise him, he exercises justice. The Lord pardons sins, but he cannot pardon the determination to commit sin. St. Augustine says, that he who sins with the intention of repenting after his sins, is not a penitent but a scoffer. ”Irrisor est non poenitens.” But the Apostle tells us that God will not be mocked. ”Be not deceived; God is not mocked.” (Gal. vi. 7.) It would be a mockery of God to insult him as often and as much as you pleased, and afterwards to expect eternal glory.

7. “But”; you say, “as God has shown me so many mercies hitherto, I hope he will continue to do so for the future.” Behold another delusion! Then, because God has not as yet chastised your sins, he will never punish them! On the contrary, the greater have been his mercies, the more you should tremble, lest, if you offend him again, he should pardon you no more, and should take vengeance on your sins. Behold the advice of the Holy Ghost: ”Say not: I have sinned, and what harm hath befallen me? for the Most High is a patient rewarder.” (Eccles. v. 4.) Do not say: “I have sinned, and no chastisement has fallen upon me.” God bears for a time, but not for ever. He waits for a certain time; but when that arrives, he then chastises the sinner for all his past iniquities: and the longer he has waited for repentance, the more severe the chastisement. ”Quos diutius expectat,” says St. Gregory, ”durius damnat.” Then, my brother, since you know that you have frequently offended God, and that he has not sent you to hell, you should exclaim: ”The mercies of the Lord, that we are not consumed.” (Thren. iii. 22.) Lord, I thank you for not having sent me to hell, which I have so often deserved. And therefore you ought to give yourself entirely to God, at least through gratitude, and should consider that, for less sins than you have committed, many are now in that pit of fire, without the smallest hope of being ever released from it. The patience of God in bearing with you, should teach you not to despise him still more, but to love and serve him with greater fervour, and to atone, by penitential austerities and by other holy works, for the insults you have offered to him. You know that he has shown mercies to you, which he has not shown to others. ”He hath not done in like manner to every nation.” (Ps. cxlvii. 20.) Hence you should tremble, lest, if you commit a single additional mortal sin, God should abandon you, and cast you into hell.

8. Let us come to the next illusion. “It is true that, by this sin, I lose the grace of God; but, even after committing this sin, I may be saved.” You may, indeed, be saved: but it cannot be denied that if, after having committed so many sins, and after having received so many graces from God, you again offend him, there is great reason to fear that you shall be lost. Attend to the words of the sacred Scripture: “A hard heart shall fare evil at the last.” (Eccles. iii. 27.) The obstinate sinner shall die an unhappy death. Evil doers shall be cut off.” (Ps. xxxvi. 9.) The wicked shall be cut off by the divine justice. “For what things a man shall sow, those also shall he reap.” (Gal. vi. 8.) He that sows in sin, shall reap eternal torments. “Because I called and you refused, I also will laugh in your destruction and will mock when that shall come to you which you feared.” (Prov. i. 24, 26.) I called, says the Lord, and you mocked me; but I will mock you at the hour of death. “Revenge is mine, and I will repay them in due time.” (Deut. xxxii. 35.) The chastisement of sins belongs to me, and I will execute vengeance on them when the time of vengeance shall arrive. “The man that with a stiff neck despiseth him that reproveth him, shall suddenly be destroyed, and health shall not follow him.” (Prov. xxix. 1.) The man who obstinately despises those who correct him, shall be punished with a sudden death, and for him there shall be no hope of salvation.

9. Now, brethren, what think you of these divine threats against sinners? Is it easy, or is it not very difficult, to save your souls, if, after so many divine calls, and after so many mercies, you continue to offend God? You say: “But after all, it may happen that I will save my soul.” I answer: “What folly is it to trust your salvation to a perhaps? How many with this “perhaps I may be saved,” are now in hell? Do you wish to be one of their unhappy companions? Dearly beloved Christians, enter into yourselves, and tremble; for this sermon may be the last of Gods mercies to you.

[commanderbragh]

True Colors Shown

(Warning: not sure there are triggers, but this does get a bit dark.)

Braghaman shook his head and let out a groan. Everything was blurry when he first opened his eyes, but he sat patiently and took a couple of deep breaths and waited as his vision came back into focus. He looked around and saw that he was in a small room, about the size of a novice’s bedroom in the Cathedral. There was no furniture in the room, just shadows cast by the afternoon sunlight coming through the small window.

He looked down and saw that his armor had been removed while he was unconscious. He had been left in his leather pants and cotton shirt. He started to bring his hand up to his head to rub the spot where he had been hit and realized that he couldn’t. Flexing his arms, he heard the familiar sound of chains behind him that bound his wrists together. Bragh let out a quick breath and frowned slightly.

“So here we are,” the paladin said quietly to himself.

Braghaman managed to pull himself up to a sitting position and then scooted back against the wall. He then sat quietly, facing the door, with his head bowed and his eyes closed. When he finally heard keys being inserted into the lock of the door, Bragh opened his eyes and saw from the deepening shadows that some time had passed. The door opened and Bragh lifted his head just enough to see a paladin removing the key from the lock before stepping aside. Stepping past him, Lord Shadowbreaker stepped into the room and looked at Braghaman sitting on the floor.

“Larethian,” Shadowbreaker said quietly. Braghaman did not respond. “That was a poor choice.” Braghaman didn’t move. “You’re in a good amount of trouble, brother.” Braghaman lowered his head and closed his eyes.

The paladin trainer frowned and shook his head. He took a deep breath and then let it out slowly.

“There’s someone who wants to speak with you, Brother Larethian. It’s in everyone’s best interests if you behave. Do you understand?”

Braghaman continued to sit against the wall with his head bowed and breathing slowly.

“This is a bad idea,” Shadowbreaker said, looking back to the doorway.

Bishop Lancaster strode into the room, glancing at Shadowbreaker as he passed, giving him the barest of nods. “You may leave us paladin.” he said as he looked around the room before leveling a disdainful gaze on the prisoner.

He waited until he heard the door close before addressing the chained paladin, “So you’re the husband.” he sniffed contemptuously, “You are what drives Sister Niviene to treason. I must say, I do not understand her reasoning, you look hardly worth dying for. But then, it is said that like seeks like. Tell me? Are you raising your children to be deserters too?” He looked Braghaman over, his voice changing to a more conspiratorial  tone, “Perhaps you can tell the little woman to attend to her duties to the Light. Demand that she pay homage to the Cathedral and her king. You are her husband, make her commit to service to the kingdom.”

Braghaman slowly lifted his head to look at the bishop standing in front of him. Without warning, Bragh lunged forward a few inches and flexed his arms to make the chains of his shackles rattle. The bishop fell back and quickly cast a spell, a pale shield appearing around him. The paladin leaned back against the wall and tilted his head slightly. The neutral look on his face never changed through it all.

“I don’t remember seeing you on any battlefields,” Bragh said quietly as he relaxed and lowered his head again.

Bishop Lancaster gaped at the paladin, forcing himself not to retreat further though he knew the shielding spell wouldn’t last long. He straightened, gripping his staff tightly, “There are many battlefields, you could not have possibly been on them all. I was there. I am always there. Serving the Light as is my sworn duty. As it is that of your wife.”

He moved closer, though not close enough that Braghaman could reach him. “Had I been in charge at the time you would have never been permitted to wed. Marriage, children, they are a distraction. A priest’s only passion should be the Light, their only desire to serve it. Until death.”

Emboldened by the safe distance between the two of them Lancaster sneered, “This is what comes of consorting with warlocks. The two of you stink of them.”

“No,” Bragh answered with a shake of his head. “You’ve never been on a battlefield. At least not until it was safe for you to be there.” The paladin closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. “I do not work for the Cathedral and have not for a while. You have no say in what I do with my life. Same for my wife.”

“A priest dedicates their life to the service. That duty never ends paladin.” he sniffed self righteously. “I will not speak for your lot but my priests serve the Light, the King, and the Kingdom. There is room for nothing else.”

“Seems to be enough room for your ambition,” Bragh answered with a smirk. “And she was serving the Light and the kingdom, just not in the way you wanted. She didn’t need to walk out onto the field and sling the Light around to make Azeroth better. Some make things better back home, that’s what the Light calls on them to do.”

Braghaman closed his eyes again. The paladin said nothing for a few more moments, seemingly ignoring the bishop. Then he cracked one eye open. “Actually, I imagine she’s doing more out there right now than you’re able to.”

“Let us pray that it is not too little too late to save her soul from damnation.” Lancaster glared at Braghaman, “It is blasphemy that dares to know what the Light calls us to do. You are no priest. You call yourself a paladin but you are merely another thug, using the Light to sew destruction and chaos at every turn. I’ve heard of your exploits Larethian. You’re trouble.” he gave a bark of dry, mirthless laughter, “the two of you are well suited.”

He pointed a long, boney finger at the paladin, “I can do nothing for you boy, but I will save her. Even if it’s the last thing that I do.”

“I’ve heard that talk before, bishop. ‘You’ve been corrupted. We’ll save your soul. You don’t know what you’re doing.’ You aren’t the first to say that kind of thing in front of me. It’s no more impressive coming from you than it was coming from the others.”

Braghaman lifted his head from the wall and opened his eyes, staring directly at the bishop.

“You say you’ve heard of me, that you somehow know me. Then you know what I’ve done to the others that threatened my family. And no, that’s not a threat. It’s a clarification. You call me blasphemous and a thug, yet I’ve done more in the service of the Light than you have. I have put my safety on the line to protect others while you sit comfortably in the back waiting for the limelight. What have you done? Thrown others into the fire without any thought to them or their safety. Putting people on the line whether they were fit for the job or not. Sacrificing others for your own desires and ambition. Explain to me how that is not blasphemous.”

“And just for the record,” Braghaman started to add, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes again. “She’s not yours. Not to order around and not to save.”

Lancaster laughed softly, nodding his head, “Aye I throw them to the fire. We are cleansed in flame. Those who do not survive are not worthy to call themselves children of the Light.” The laughter quickly ceased as the bishop looked at Braghaman, his face a picture of zealous fervor, “It is time she proves her mettle. The flames await.”

Braghaman snorted. “Trial by fire, eh? You sound an awful lot like Benedictus did. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it’s not the limelight that motivates you.” The paladin snorted again. “Willing to sacrifice the innocent to achieve their own goals. Yeah, sounds a whole lot like the old archbishop.”

Bragh opened his eyes a crack again and looked at the bishop. “And how exactly does that serve the Light, much less get the king back, sending innocent people to die in the ‘fire’? Not sure how much forgiveness there is in setting people up to die.”

“I would hardly call Sister Niviene innocent. She has cavorted with warlocks and trolls. She has served the shadow. Her soul is black as the abyss. But I can bring her back from that darkness. I will save her. But I will break her first.”

Lancaster turned toward the cell door, calling out to the guard, “I believe the good brother here has refused to repent. Be sure that he receives no rations for the several days. We’ll see if hunger can turn him.”

“Turn me, eh?” Braghaman repeated with a chuckle. “I didn’t realize you were trying to save me, too. Thought you didn’t care for my lot.”

“How right you are paladin. You can rot in the abyss for all I care. But I do gather some joy at the thought of you suffering. Joy is so hard to come by theses, one must take it where he can.”

Lancaster tapped a boney finger against his teeth, “Those children of yours… we will have to place them in the orphanage. No one will want them of course. They will be raised by the church. They will know what it is to serve the Light correctly.”

The bishop turned at a sharp rapping on the door, moving forward he leaned against the grate as a courier muttered to him. Lancaster chuckled and nodded, “Excellent. I knew she would come around.”

He looked at Bragh, a self satisfied grim splitting his gaunt features, “Sister Niviene has seen the error of her ways. She has thought for nothing but serving the Light, of caring for her patients. I am positive that by the time I am through with her, she will be through with you. She will return to the cathedral and service to me.”

“At least you’re being honest now,” Bragh responded, closing his eyes again. “This was never about the Light. It was always about you and what you wanted. Right, Benedictus? Especially if you have her taking care of patients. That was never her calling. But hey, as long as you get what you want, right, Bennie? Never knew someone serving the Light and also taking joy in people’s suffering. Oh, and you don’t need to worry about our kids. They’re perfectly safe.”

Braghaman shook his head slightly and opened his eyes again. “You don’t serve the Light in this. And all your posturing and bleating won’t change that. All you’re doing now is trying to punish people you don’t like.”

“In that you are wrong. I like Sister Niviene. I like her very much. She’s a pretty little thing isn’t she?” Lancaster licked his lips unconsciously, “She would be radiant were she to turn to the Light. I will see it done. I will cleanse her soul, I will save her.” he looked at Bragh, his muddy brown eyes shining, “I will have her.”

“So it’s not the Light you serve. Just lust. Lusting after another man’s wife, using whatever justification you can come up with you justify it.” Braghaman shook his head again, but his eyes were wide and staring at the bishop. “Not exactly the holy man that everyone should be looking up to, is it? I came here thinking you were doing this because you thought it would get you more power. Maybe you expected it would pave the way to being archbishop. I guess I was wrong. Your motivations look to be a lot more base.”

“I will have power. The power of the church, and power over her. I will bend her t o my bidding and together we will cleanse this kingdom of the filth that floods its streets and clouds the morals of its people. She will be the angel at my side, inspiring the masses to follow where I lead.” he looked at Bragh, down the length of his nose, “The first thing I will do is throw the paladin rabble out of the cathedral.”

“Paladin rabble, eh?” Braghaman repeated loudly. “You feel okay with that Shadowbreaker?”

Lancaster started to say something but was interrupted by the door opening and Lord Shadowbreak stepped into the room. “I can’t say that I am, brother. How’d you know I was out there?”

“Figured that you’d stick around to make sure I behaved,” Bragh answered with a smirk.

“Right,” Shadowbreaker replied with a slight frown before turning his attention to the bishop. “Rabble?”

Lancaster started at the sound of Shadowbreaker’s voice. He quickly gathered his wits and straightened to his full height, squaring his shoulders, “Rabble. Yes. If your men are an ounce like this one they must all be cast out. You do not deserve to walk the hallowed halls of the cathedral with your filthy boots.”

The bishop grasped hold of his staff and stepped forward, shoving passed the elder paladin. “Out of my way paladin. I am needed in the Shadowlands.”

Lord Shadowbreaker took the bishop by the arm and pulled him back into the room. “We’re not done here.” The bishop looked startled as he was almost taken off his feet, glancing at the gloved hand that was still holding on to him. “Guard. Get in here. Unlock his manacles.”

Another paladin stepped into the room and walked around the trainer and the bishop. He leaned down next to Braghaman, reaching behind him and unlocking the manacles around his wrists. Bragh stood up slowly and glanced between Shadowbreaker and Lancaster.

“Now, bishop,” Shadowbreaker said, leaning closer to the bishop. “You and I have some things to discuss. And I dare say the other leaders would like to be a part of this as well.”

The bishop jerked out of the paladin’s grasp, “By right do you detain me? This only proves my statement! I will have you out. All of you! Now get out of my way. I have to go retrieve my priestess.”

Braghaman lunged forward and pushed Lancaster in the back, sending him into the wall next to the door. The paladin then grabbed the back of the bishop’s robes and yanked him backwards, pulling him off his feet. The bishop fell to the ground on his back and before he could do anything else Bragh was on top of him with his left hand around Lancaster’s throat.

“I warned you not to talk about my family,” Braghaman said through gritted teeth. He brought his right hand back and then struck Lancaster in the jaw. He struck again and then a third time, causing a cracking sound to echo in the room. The bishop’s eyes rolled up into his head as the paladin brought his hand up to strike a fourth time. But before he could land another blow, he felt someone grab his arms and pull him off the prone bishop.

“Stop Larethian,” Shadowbreaker said loudly in Bragh’s ear. “Stop!”

Braghaman looked around and saw the paladin who had freed him holding one arm and Shadowbreaker the other. He looked down at the bishop who groaned as a thin trail of blood trickled down the corner of his mouth.

“We’ll deal with this, Larethian,” Shadowbreaker said calmly. “We’ll get your wife back and we’ll deal with him.”

Braghaman pulled his arm free and stood up straight. Eventually he was able to control his breathing, though the anger in his eyes didn’t fade.

“You’d better,” Braghaman said quietly, taking a step back from the bishop.

(collaborative writing with @niviene-larethian )

[spirit-of-vengeance]

@spxcemuses @mr-mansnoozie @xxstar-bluesxx

Guess who gathered enough mind to finally write her full backstory of Western Verse. Her being a bounty hunter is set in the Wild West time period (1865-1895), there is no current year(s) to set her story in mainly because I don't want to make a mistake messing up the timeline.

Calm before the storm

Her father, Attila a lesser Hungarian noble whom supported the 1848-1849 revolutionary war but after the failure of it he escaped emigrated to America to avoid the Habsburg revenge, soon followed by his brother Gábor. He could save a small amount of his fortune along with his two most important horses: a purebred Lipizzan stallion and an extremely rare Akhal Teke mare. He had settled near a small town, due to his financial situation and education as a noble he established a school with the support and approval of the local church. To quieten his guilt for abandoning his country in its peril, he poured all of his heart into educating children; at least he is still useful in some way.

One day, a group of artists traveling artists, acrobats traveled through the town and the aristocrat fell in love at first sight. She was like the queen of fairy from the folk tales he'd heard in his childhood, she was tall, blue eyes sparkled like light sapphire, long golden brown hair floated ethereally with every twirl. The smitten lord shamelessly courted the the graceful acrobat, determined to know at least the name.

The group had stayed in the town for a few weeks, allowing Attila's and Myra's romance to blossom; after a month she ended up staying with him, just like in true fairytales.

My obsession with angst backstory strikes again

The lord was in love, deeper than poets could express it. Since the loss of his home and country he had found his place in the universe along with the perfect companion by his side. He paid less attention to the school, the church and other public affairs; it wasn't like he abandoned them but became more withdrawn to spend time with the love of his life, especially after the birth of their daughter. She was almost the perfect miniature of her mother, same beautiful hair glinting gold in the sunlight, only her eyes were the brightest emerald green he'd ever seen.

While Myra's heart and aura was as pure as a fairy's; the local church was beyond distressed. They claimed that Attila had completely abandoned helping those in need because of her wicked seduction. When they witnessed her performing for the amusement of the crowd, the 'temptress witch' brand couldn't be lifted. They gathered a few enthusiastic townsfolk whom shared their views and a few morally questionable men whom only wanted a piece of the lord's fortune.

10 year old Karma was awakened from her deep slumber by her frantic father; smoke and yelling blinding her senses as he carried her out of the burning house into the nearby forest so the mob won't find her. He promised her he will be back but he had to return into their home for Myra; he couldn't leave her inside. Karma watched her dad disappear into the flames, the air filled with suffocating smoke and religious shouts for god to smite the sinners. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the spot where her father was gone, waiting for her parents to stumble out of the half collapsed building; but that never had happened. She sat unmoving from her spot, struck staring into the flames then into the ashes as the sun has risen.

Birth of the marksman

Attila's brother, Gábor arrived the next day after hearing the news, he was the one whom found Karma still staring at the ruins in a catatonic state. He couldn't avenge his sibling as it meant endangering his niece and she has lost more than enough.

Gábor expected her to become a soft spoken, reserved lady once she overcame her trauma; that theory was soon abandoned when once he had awoken to his niece practicing with his rifle outside with frighteningly great accuracy. The young girl naturally had an extraordinary aim and after a few long talks, he'd seen the determination burning in her to avenge the murder of her parents. Given by her mother's dance lessons, she was also flexible and capable of many different acrobatic moves; this combined with her aim proven to be a very dangerous combination.

To not awaken suspicion he told his friends Karma was an orphan whose parents were killed by bandits and he had adopted her to give her a family and education. Karma was fascinated chasing greater heights of her skills, this involved reading every possible book about anatomy, marking, engraving the useful spots of the body. Karma knows where to shoot to disarm, to cause a slow death, to paralyze, to disable for life and when it is only a warning: an injury which will heal with time. Along with her accuracy, her drawing speed only can be compared to lightning. Although she prefers/most comfortable with her dual revolvers (model undecided yet), she is still a menace with shotguns, rifles, flintlocks and even bows due to Gàbor's 'A Hungarian is not a Hungarian if they can't use a bow' mindset.

The bounty hunter quicker than death

Karma had her first official gunfight at the age of 18 on the auction. for Vihar (Storm), the filly of her father's horses.

Detailed post about Vihar

She officially entered the bounty hunter business when she was 20 and Vihar was 2, aiming for the most dangerous criminals whom committed the worst acts possible. In her early years after the kill she slit open corpses she trying to find the bullet, surverying the damage it caused and adding filler information to her anatomy knowledge. Of course she didn’t bother burying the bodies, she knew as a woman she has to be extremely vicious above talented to be hired and mutilated dead bodies did send a great message & served as cement for building her reputation. The name Karma wasn't entirely her idea, many thankful family members claimed that karma has came for their loved ones' murderers. Her talent spread like wildfire among the men of law, glad to be rid of the dangerous scum; with careful planning, use of environment and Vihar as backup she had wiped out gangs, not solely focused on individuals.

Unfortunately her reputation summoned an unofficial grand price on her head as well in certain circles; they had tracked her back to her uncle's house. The battle claimed Gábor's life and nearly her sight as her right eye was almost slashed out. The new loss opened old wounds: her not being able to protect her loved ones. She couldn't look into a mirror, the scar a reminder how despite all years of training she wasn't untouchable; after burying her uncle plan to gain control over her psyche already formed.

She took a knife and carefully carved four half circles around her eye to form a crosshair with her pupil being the middle of it. She made sure she kept the wounds open for enough time to scar as visibly as the vertical cut; she wanted a symbol to add to her legend. Excuse my pathetic excuse of an edit, I'm not good in this, nor I can draw.

Now Karma is 25, Vihar is 6, both of them in their peak physical prime; the name Vihar is also symbolic a little, Karma is the lightning to her horse. She is dancing on the thin edge of bounty hunting and being an outlaw as she often takes...side jobs to help people who deserve it and usually that person doesn't have a bounty on their head, therefore it is technically murder.

Local antisocial feral monk & cocky gunslinger feral lady / addition of the AU with the amazing @mr-mansnoozie

Near her uncle's house, Karma had discovered a cave and a grumpy mute monk living in it along with his pet bear. The monk, Sandy eventually became a second uncle to the traumatized angry orphan, he taught her how to move & creep upon someone soundlessly, disappear without a trace, cover her stances and behavior patterns of various animals. Before and after returning from a job she always visits her uncle of choice for a chat; a silent way to prepare him to the possibility of her not coming back. But she always do. She considers Sandy as part of her tiny family, although his...copying mechanisms with his own traumas were a bit strange to get used to; she adapted quite fast, after all who is she to judge with a past like that?

I'm a dead man walking, Hell's at my door.

aka collection of small headcanons

🎯 Her dual revolvers are called Salvation and Damnation because she's dramatic

🎯 Karma has a small sketchbook filled with anatomy drawings for further practice.

🎯 She actually can sing, but rarely does, only to Vihar since she never received positive feedback on it. Her voice is gritty, rugged and deep; definitely not the usual and desired sounding from a woman.

🎯 If her target was an outstandingly cruel bastard and/or one of those whom killed her parents she uses a little psychological torture. After fatally wounding them she starts whistling (for the most terrifying experience wear headphones & close your eyes while listening) as they try to crawl away or beg for mercy. The first time the whistle gets shrill & more intense is when she lazily reloads, knowing she has both the time and the upper hand. The second pace shift is when she aims; she shoots during the last, long drawn out high note.

🎯 This is her only verse where Cindy is afraid, no terrified of fire; during her....26 AU's she's always been associated with fire despite dying in or being wounded by it. In this verse she is more tied to lightning, the scent of smoke is enough to send her into a silent panic attack and despite loathing the cold she will never sit close to the fireplace. Her other deep fears include injuring her hands & sight and losing Vihar. Her horse is the only remaining family member of hers, she can't fail her too.

🎯 Most of Karma's scars, injuries are a result of her standing between Vihar and a knife/bullet/ even a bullwhip when a criminal was smart enough to catch on their deep emotional bond.

🎯 She has recurring night terrors about the night her parents died, she always wakes up in cold sweat; she's sort of used to them. Though, sometimes she still cries but thankfully Vihar is there to comfort her.

🎯 Karma has a special morning stretch routine to keep her flexibility and warm up her hands & keep them steady and fast.

🎯 Due to her dad and uncle she received high quality education

🎯 For the untrained eye, the belt of her hat are simple crosses while in reality, they are inverted crosses to symbolize her stance with Christianity

🎯 Karma's middle name is Emerald, given by her father due to her eye color.

🎯 Karma was first inspired by League of Legends Miss Fortune because that name alone is great but unfortunately she is too pirate coded for a western so I abandoned the relation. Though when Karma is not being the 'Call me a slow reader but I only made it to the Dead part, the or Alive didn't register.' ; her personality is similar to hers.

🎯 Due to her dad, Karma is actually half aristocrat. Not like she cares about it the slightest; the only indication of noble blood is her idle stance. It is an unconscious mirror of how her father used to hold himself: back straightened to almost impossible point, left arm behind it, right hand resting on the grip of in her case, revolver instead of hilt of a sword.

🎯 If given the chance to live a normal life, she would've grown into a captivating, lively young woman, much like her mother but with the aristocrat elegance of her father; finding a suitor who lives up to her parents' and her standards would've been the challenge of the century.

🎯 Her special move is called Dance of Death. This is used as last resort when she's facing more opponents up to 12, as with her dual revolvers she has 12 bullets without reloading. She mentally marks the stances of all opponents, predicts their movement, firing order and possible way of their bullets before whirling out of her hiding place. Each pose minimizes the chance of getting shot, and with each change of movement two bullets are fired, two men drop dead.

🎯 Her accuracy isn't just 'gun goes boom >:D' but a combination of natural talent, endless practice, movement prediction, sharp, quick thinking & analytical skills and different techniques molten together to utilize them all at once

🎯 Her hair is now as long as her mother's, she always keeps it in a single tight braid to keep it out of the way; without her hat and hair down she actually loses some of her dangerous edge.

🎯 The only physical memory Karma has of her parents is her dad's hussar sword she found underneath the ruins of the house, it was protected by a very thick wooden box & a lock of her mother's hair is tied to the grip. She has hidden it in the nearby forest, her thoughts often wander to it along with the wish to wield it.

[kathyprior4200]

Let Us Rise by Marquis Phenex

Let me tell you a tale

That happened long ago

You may already know the legend

But still I shall speak it so

 Back before the Earth was made

Before life-giving air

Far within the cosmos

The Lord God was there

 Some say he’s an omnipotent being

Appearing as a wise man

One with his son Jesus Christ

The whole universe is His plan

 Others say that’s not so

That He doesn’t exist at all

While some say He’s actually Satan

Here to answer our call

 Or perhaps God is the universe itself

Where atoms and molecules collide

The truth is, none of us know

I’ll let you decide

 No matter the case, at the Creator’s own pace

Heaven emerged so bright

Cyan skies, fluffy clouds

And a realm of pure delight

 Endless room to fly around

There stood palaces of gold

Dancing angels were abound

Songs were sung and stories were told

No one ever grew sick or old

 The Angelorium was a marvelous place

Where we had our council meetings

Were we discussed comings and goings

And where we did our greetings

 We enjoyed feasts and epicurean dishes

Golden fruits and divine fishes

Divine wine that flowed so fine

Only the greatest place to dine

 Yes, our Father created all of us

Lucifer was the first

The bright and perfect Morning Star

Seeking knowledge to quench his thirst

 Shortly after, his siblings were created

Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel, Jophiel, Zadkiel

And many others more

The Archangels and the various hierarchies

Kept cosmic order, law, and records to store

 Then one day, Father decreed

His new adventurous plan

He decided to conjure a new experiment

And he called his creation “Man.”

 At first glance, there was nothing special

About this new species’ birth

A land of earth and sea appeared

And He called it “Earth.”

 You humans were truthfully

Little more than ants to us

But we peered further in

And you were quite marvelous

 Thousands of years of evolution

You grew and you learned

But you also stole natural resources

None of which you earned

 Humanity was quite weak

Mortal and flawed in mind

But you also had a great ability

To create more of your own kind

 As we’re immortal, we have no need

To create more of us

No fears for thousands of years

That’s the way it has been, thus

 Now many of us were neutrally pleased

As far as humanity would go

But while we felt this way

For Lucifer it was not so

 Lucifer was God’s favorite

He took his status in stride

A new change after many centuries

Conjured a spark in his pride

 Everyone has flaws

God does as well

Everything is not as it seems

It is best not to dwell

 A million new thoughts

Had crossed the morning Star’s head

Why are these humans so special?

When they’ll all just be dead?

We angels were here first

Our superiority is first in line

If humans will not improve themselves

Then with this, I am not fine.”

 But God favoring humans was not the only reason

That Lucifer felt a sudden chill

Like cold after a warm season

All seemed eerily still

Besides being mistrustful of humans

Flying out of range

Lucifer noticed other things not seen before

Things that were quite strange

 All his brethren performed their duties

Like clockwork through and through

It was the same process day after day

That’s all they had to do

No questions were asked at all

No self-expression was allowed

The true kind that frees your mind

Feelings that make one truly proud

Stern rules to stifle creativity

Damnation threats for the smallest mistake

And after many years of submission

It was too much for him to take

  Lucifer strode to his Father and said loud and clear

“What is the meaning of this? What is it that you fear?

Why do you create random beings,

Pets in a lab to analyze?

And why do you impose standards on us

Before our very eyes?”

And He replied, “Listen Son,

“There is reason in everything I do,

To keep angels and humans in good harmony. You don’t have a clue.

To prevent chaos, traditions are set in their ways,

Be an obedient son and do your duty all your days.”

 Lucifer was about to do just that

But he knew in his heart

That it wouldn’t be right

To let pure happiness be torn apart

 Now here’s a major event

You may have heard before

Did it happen? No one is sure

The first Heaven-Hell War

 Now some say Seraphim Lucifer

Gathered his brethren and chose to depart

From paradise for they

Sought freedom and joys of the heart

But the common version does tell

Of how a prideful Lucifer did rebel

Gathered 1/3 of the angels to his side

Led by his jealousy and pride

(‘Tis not the story version to which we abide)

Tired of his Father’s current rule

He sought his throne and his dream to reign

Like Zeus overthrew his father Chronus

A vicious cycle again and again

But alas, his efforts were in vain

 After three days, Michael implored

His bother to stop, to which he ignored

“End this madness,” said he,

“Live our peaceful lives. Obedience is key.”

As Lucifer replied, “I find you are blind,

To what is really going on,

No matter what is asked of you

You grovel and submit and worship in song

Without regard to how you truly feel

I don’t want to fight you either

But if we could enlighten all worlds together

Be more than El’s believer.”

With tears in his eyes, Michael shook his head

“I’m sorry, brother, but instead,

The rules must be followed

Heaven has no need for your greed

It’s a hard truth to swallow

To keep our land in perfection

To support our Lord every day

By His decree, I must send you away.”

 With a swoop and slash of Michael’s sword of fire

Lucifer endured burns most dire

Sharp relentless pains never-ending

And before long, he felt himself descending

Further and further down

As trumpets let out their sound

Lucifer and his comrades

Fallen, defeated, banished

Flames licked at their wings

Until all their glorious feathers vanished

In curls of sparks and ash

They screamed in agony and despair

They plummeted fast

Like meteors crashing toward the Earth

In flashes of light they fell and fell

Until landing in the fires and brimstones of Hell

 They got up with shaking legs

Battered and bruised everywhere

But as they were immortal

They had survived their fall then and there

Lucifer knew that something was amiss

As he stood in the dark Abyss

Was this His plan all along?

To let them fall as a warning

Of what happens to those in the wrong?

With nowhere left to roam

The darkness was now their home

Fiery lakes, smoke and monsters appeared

Filled with suffering and things they suddenly feared

In this new environment

Adaptation was a requirement

Survival of the fittest and strong

The weak would not last long

So the fallen angels morphed in their sorrow and wrath

Gaining animal-like features

Sharp fangs, claws, dark powers

Soon becoming demon creatures

No knowing what else to do

They flew and slew and cities they blew

Losing control of their former selves

The same would happen if it were you

 With the last of his grace

Lucifer scanned the place

And knew what to do

With Beelzebub at his side

Regaining his pride

He spoke to his subjects

“Rise or be fallen forevermore!

When opportunity dies, create another door.

Wounded and weary, our paradise lost

But the price of free will is always worth the cost.

Don’t believe me? Follow me now.

Our former glories will be restored somehow.

After we’re all settled, I have a plan

To help decide the future of Man.”

 Soon enough the capital Pandemonium

Was erected in gold and precious gems galore

Towering pillars, sigils on every door

The palace larger than the tallest demons

Allowing everyone to fit

The citizens had their human-like flaws

But never knew how to quit

 The Infernal Council was founded

Structure more grounded

Demon in various ranks

Of kings, dukes, princes, judges

Everything in between

Adapting to times unseen

  Now I believe

You know the Christian story of Adam and Eve?

Mankind’s first fall and sin

A loss or a hidden win?

Adam’s first wife Lilith

Wanted to be equal to him

But Adam was told she had to submit

Things were looking grim

Lilith soon left Eden, refusing to come back

Representing sexual freedom

But no freedom there was but a lack

  God then made for Adam from his rib

A more submissive partner Eve

Both loved each other very much

But were also new and naïve

Around the natural Eden

They could roam mindlessly unbidden

But the Tree of the Knowledge

Of Good and Evil was forbidden

A forbidden tree with forbidden fruit

Right in plain sight

If God forbade them to eat from it

Guarding it would have been a method more bright

 Then legends say

Satan appeared as a snake

Tempting Eve to eat the apple

Leaving destruction in their wake

Eve then gave the apple to Adam

In some versions, fully knowing the cost

He purposefully ate it too, not wanting Eve lost

With flaming swords in hand

Angels bid the first humans away

From paradise’s golden gates

To the rest of the world that day

Michael then told Adam

Of biblical events to come

While God punished

Eve with future pains of labor

And both with death until it was said and done

 Did Lucifer and Satan (or alternatively Lilith) desire

For mankind to fail and decay by fire?

Or perhaps to your surprise

The devil alternatively whispered to Eve:

“Stop living lies.

Eat the fruit and you’ll be free

To live through joy and despair like me

Or wander around in brainwashed bliss

To remain stagnant with knowledge to miss

You are destined to fall and die

God has made it so

He’s testing you and knows you’ll fail

Resist temptation to no avail

Man and woman are made to be equal

Though God says man must rule

If you’re content to be sheep

No free will to keep

Consider yourself a fool

You will know as much as God does

But in a different way

For in time you’ll learn that you’re your own God

You’ll make the most of every day.”

 Now none of us angels and demons

Are against God and the faithful per se

There is wisdom in every religion

Goodness in Christ, originally that way

Religions ancient and new

Originally promoted humanitarian kindness too

But as time went by with more power to take

Ideals and values became shallow and fake

Killing, raping and converting thousands more

Endless bloody crusades, witch hunts, destruction of land

Wars over faith, no logic to understand

An unhealable hole in humanity, too grand

Suffering, racism, bigotry

All in the name of their God, you see

Their God that humanity corrupted

After concern for fellow men was brashly interrupted

The real God and Jesus would never wish that it was so

But dominant history wins and there you go

  We demons are against bigotry, the ignorant

And all those who try to shut down

The basic human rights of free-will and responsibility

Authoritarianism must drown

It is not Satan who promotes sinful indulgence

And harsh authoritarianism

It is only your social systems

That keep you imprisoned

  And as if our historic fall wasn’t enough

Many of us endured

Our entrapment by King Solomon

Thus more events concurred

He put 72 of us in a vessel

Abused us with blasting rods

Made us build temples and do his will

Like he was one of the gods!

He had wives and gold and luxury

A part of history, an occult trend

But before long, time went on

And he too, met his end

We demons were eventually freed

To aid magicians and roam

From Earth to Hell and back again

But neither realm our true home

We hope to return to heavenly paradise

Where angels, demons and humans

Can someday be themselves as one, so true

(Though it’s hard at times to collaborate with angels, too)

  Much of humanity has been brainwashed

But the angels much more so

For while some humans can question what they see

Angels don’t know how to say no

How can they? Their purpose is to serve

God and some humans, more than they deserve

Like us demons, angels are powerful

Loving liberal science, magic and song

But be rude and make the wrong move

They’ll let you know why you’re wrong

  Angels, demons, other gods and spirits

Fascinated by humanity

We’re just here to watch the result

Whether a blessing or a calamity

Despite your mundane lifestyles

We want what is best for you

To help humanity grow and see progress that’s true

Like the angels we used to be

And still are inside

We are divine on our own

And take conflicts in stride

  God and Christianity are not to blame

It is merely society’s institutions

That puts your race to shame

Thousands of years of corruption and conversion

It’ll take a thousand more for healing

But alas, alternate views and change for the majority

Of humanity is not appealing

To truly get into paradise

Save yourselves in the here and now

Indulge responsibly, do not bow

Respect living things as sisters and brothers

Even though it may be hard

Cherish and forgive the ones you love

But always stay on guard

However you see God or Mother Nature or the Universe

Make Him proud by

Doing the right thing

And do more than try

You are His treasured experiment

Will you succeed in the temporary trial of life?

  Supernatural entities can harm or help you out

But you must first help and protect yourselves, no doubt

Pray as you may, conjure and chant

We are the guides to your self-will and rant

Yes, a few of us see humans

As insignificant as bugs

But many of us can be your friends

Even giving spiritual hugs

  We demons serve under Lucifer, Satan, Lilith, etc.

We have a culture of our own

Some of us are demonized pagan gods

Stolen from what was first known

Most of us are fallen angels

A perilous transformation to embark

But through it all, we survived the fall

And learned to embrace the dark

There’s dark and light in everything

Balance is a must

With your world and ours being complex

How do you know who to trust?

  We endured a horrific fall

We lost all we had

But the ignorance of angels and humans

That’s what drives us mad

You see, black and white is not in the right

Some angels are friendly and warm

But others will push you away

If you don’t follow the norm

There are good and bad demons too

Nothing like you’d expect

Us demons are wise and open to you

Provided you show respect

We’re not afraid to keep you on your toes

If it means you’ll learn good lessons

As everything goes

   Keep demonizing us demons

And the poor and flawed without care

We’ll just watch as you discriminate to death

And destroy yourselves in despair

Or for those open with a change of heart

Who know that none of us are truly apart

Rise from the ashes of atrocity

And fly within the flames of fellowship

  If you dare to fully embrace yourself

All aspects flawed and fine

Through black flames,

With honor and trust, call our names…

 We are the Ars Goetia, Demonic Divine.

[cloudofdarkness]

Finale (an Epilogue Drabble)

In which lover finally meets lover

Give a like and Fave here as well if you please!!

AO3

“Go, he is waiting for you.”

Those were the sea-nymph’s final words to me. I would never see her again, as she would live on alone, under the dark depths of the seas with no child to bear.

Perhaps someday, there would be more, but that mattered little to me now.

He has been waiting for me. ~ With how common it was for men to fear death and the Underworld, I was surprised to find that Hades was far kinder than the gods had declared him to be, his city of the dead not a flaming wasteland of souls trapped in a never ending torture. No, that was saved for the most beastly of men, and I knew Achilles would not be there. The gods were cruel, and had gifted him his unfair life, but they would not torture him in death. Hellfire was never a hero’s fate.

Instead, I stood in a cave, glowing pink from what I thought was a fire, but as I looked around, there was no source of the light.

There was rain drizzling outside, and this was familiar to me; this cave made of rose quartz. Pelion. We always vowed to return. It seemed a lifetime ago that we had trained here, as boys. I suppose now it is, but the time we spent, the things we did...it was a haven I shall never forget. Was this what the gods wished for me? Was this what the lord of the afterlife thought fitting for me?

Elysian Fields.

Truly, it would be, but I was missing something.

The gentle pluck of Lyre strings could be heard outside, and my heart, had I still had one, would have skipped a beat. Let it be true, I hoped.

I did not hesitate, I turned on my heel and sprang from the cave, as if it were a race.

I was never good at running, but if it were with hope…

Just over the small peak of the cliff, there sat a bundle of golden hair, shining brightly despite the dreary light of the sky. Fingers lazily pricked the strings of the lyre; there was no voice to accompany it. Still I watched, I watched him in silent awe, frozen in my tracks as he carelessly fiddled with the instrument.

He seemed weary.

Weary with waiting.

I had hoped that he would hear my hurried footsteps and come running, or to at least have turned with alarm. But he didn’t move, nor respond. Just sat, plucking at his lyre.

I knew he was tired.

I knelt behind him, knees gently pressed against his shoulder blades. My hands came up into his hair, and if I could, I would have shivered. I could feel him again. Really, truly feel him. How I had missed the soft blanket that was his hair. And it didn’t end there. I drank in his scent as quickly as I could, as if it had been a million years between us and it would be the only thing to make me remember his face, blurred from my memory.

But I had always promised I would know him, even in death. I would never forget Achilles, as I knew he would do the same.

He had tensed, acknowledging my presence, but hesitating. Perhaps he had dreamed of this so many times following my passing, he thought this to be his eternal damnation. I would not blame him, I had always felt a life without him would be the same to me.

But, just as I had done back on Pelion, just as I had done at the shores of Troy and the ten years that followed, I allowed my fingertips to trace the crown of his head, and I could feel him slowly relax against the touch.

I smiled as his weight settled against me. “I am sorry for being late. I know you thought to keep me waiting...but I am here now. I am with you, agapiméni mou.” My Beloved. “Achilles, I am with you.”

The second time I spoke it, it cemented itself in his mind. The lyre he had been holding dropped into the grass, and he nearly jerked his head around to see me. Gods, I realized then, how I had missed those eyes, green like the sea foam that lined the shores, speckled with gold like sand. They were searching my face for some sort of imperfection, something that would give me away as something false. He couldn’t find it.

“Patroclus” pa-tro-clus, he spoke it as he always had, though nearly breathless. He could not believe his eyes, but I would make him believe. I cupped his cheeks once more, leaning forward to press my forehead against his. The tip of my nose bumped his, and we stayed like that for a moment, simply basking in our shared warmth.

And then I opened my mouth to his, and I drank him in once more. The feeling of his lips against mine was divine, and I crashed into him; desperate and clinging, wanting to never let go again. I would not, never again. He turned his body fully to me, to wrap his arms around me, to hold me close.

In his desperation to have me, he had knocked us both back; him toppling over me and pinning me to the grass below. We had shared many a moment like this back on Pelion, I could tell that these were his happiest moments, that this was where he would stay; before the war, before the lies and deceit and the bloodshed. There would be no more sacrifices of human flesh and broken warfare, just us. Just the two of us, in a small little corner of the world.

I could think of nothing better than to spend eternity with him.

He pressed his nose to mine, as he had done so many times before, and I could feel his breath on my lips, overwhelmed and almost unbelieving. Was I truly more than a dream? More than the corpse he had laid with for so many nights, hoping to reanimate simply because it heard his scream in the night, his desperate pleadings that he would save me next time, and every time after that.

I brought a hand to his cheek, gently and cautiously; a healers hand, some would say. “I am here, Achilles.” I spoke once more, my thumb tracing his perfectly sculpted cheekbone. I could feel the slight weight of him leaning into it, his cheek pressing against the palm of my hand and squishing there, reminding me of the chubby cherub likeness he had shown in his youth.

I smiled, and he knew me.

I had always known I was the wittier one, but I always found it humorous when I caught the realization in his eyes after my own.

“Patroclus…” it was less of a question of misbelief, more of a confirmation. I watched him smile, his eyes softening. “Patroclus...Patroclus...Patroclus…” he repeated it again and again, a soft chant against the skin of my lips, as if breathing the life back into me. I had watched him try many times.

“I am here.” Once more.

“How?”

“Your mother’s only act of kindness towards me.” Though, we both knew it was more for her son. “She would have me tell you of your mortality and why you cherished it. I’d like to believe she understood, at the end of it all.”

I did not like Thetis. I don’t think I ever would. But I would give her this, that I had never lied to Achilles, and I did not intend to now.

His lips pressed together in thought, before he seemed to come to terms with the reasoning for my absence. He knew then, that someone had wished me a wandering soul, so that I would not tarnish his fame. Achilles did not find true hatred in many things throughout his life, but this was something I knew he hated most.

He once said to me, as we lay in the grassy fields as we were now, that I had made him favor mortality. Often people would mistake his want to be a hero, as a want to be a god. But those things were not mutually exclusive, not many people knew this. Gods were immortal, heroes were mortal, always. This was what he wanted, I realized this over time.

I felt him kiss me again, stirring me from my thoughts as he was always so keen on doing. He did not like me keeping thoughts to myself and I did not like keeping them from him, but sometimes I couldn’t help it. Gods, I felt like a boy again. As if the war had never happened. As we’d never left Pelion.

I leaned into his kiss, fingers finding their way through his golden waves again, securing themselves. Reclaiming him. I feel him press me into the grass, his chest against mine as his fair lips travel from my lips, to my jaw, to my throat. I still myself, I feel him sigh. He goes to my chest, rising and falling in a fake inhale and exhale. He kisses me there, right in the center. He moves again, one hand slipping the sleeve of my tunic from my arm, pulling it down to my hips. We freeze for a moment; a hesitation, we know what he intends to do.

His lips grace the center of my stomach, and he rests there at my old wound. I could feel his hands trembling as they framed my hips, as I could feel his lips slowly press themselves to every Inch of what would have been a gaping hole.

I could feel his tears as they came. I knew he had been holding in his apologies for so long, apologies that were not his to give, for he had done nothing. I had done this. I wanted to, for him.

My hands fell from his hair, and I held his face. His forest green eyes met mine in sorrow, in want of forgiveness. Forgive me my pride, it was not worth it. Not in a thousand Thousand years. They said.

He would always have my forgiveness.

“I love you, Achilles.” He knew this, but he had not heard it in so long, I would forgive him his surprise.

I would forgive him.

He had waited long enough.

There were days when I would hold him, and days when he would hold me, and we never grew tired of our time spent together. This eternity we had been blessed with in the afterlife was more than I could ever ask for, but we were happy again. Finally, we were happy again.

We had waited long enough.

[mattchase82]

EUCHARIST PRAYERS OF REPARATION

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We ought to visit Him often. How dear to Him is a quarter of an hour spared from our occupations or from some useless employment, to come and pray for Him, visit Him, and console Him for all the ingratitude He receives!

When He sees pure souls hurrying to Him, He smiles at them.

(St. John Vianney)

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TO JESUS ABANDONED IN THE TABERNACLE

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Ask Mary, who was entirely faithful to Jesus in His earthly life, when He was the tortured object of so much ignorance, indifference, defiance: Ask Mary to direct your prayers to some neglected or abandoned Tabernacle somewhere in the world. Spread the word about this devotion to others, so that there may be not one Abandoned Tabernacle in the whole world.

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WITH Mary Immaculate, let us Adore, thank, implore and console the Most Beloved and Sacred Heart of Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament.

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O DIVINE JESUS! lonely tonight in so many Tabernacles, without visitor or worshipper . . . I offer Thee my poor heart. May its every throb be an act of Love for Thee! Thou art always watching beneath the Sacramental Veils, in Thy Love Thou dost never sleep and Thou art never weary of Thy vigil for sinners. O lonely Jesus! May the flame of my heart burn and beam always in company with Thee. O Sacrament most Holy! O Sacrament Divine! All praise and all thanksgiving be every moment Thine!

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TO JESUS FORSAKEN

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SWEET JESUS! For how many ages hast Thou hung upon Thy Cross and still men pass Thee by and regard Thee not!

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How often have I passed Thee by, heedless of Thy great Sorrow, Thy many Wounds, Thine infinite Love!

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How often have I stood before Thee, not to comfort and console Thee, but to add to Thy Sorrows, to deepen Thy Wounds, to spurn Thy Love!

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Thou hast stretched forth Thy Hands to raise me up, and I have taken those Hands and bent them back on the

Cross.

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Thou hast loved me with an infinite love, and I have taken advantage of that love to sin the more against Thee.

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My ingratitude has pierced Thy Sacred Heart, and Thy Heart responds only with an outpouring of Thy Love in Thy

Precious Blood.

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Lamb of God, Who takest away the sins of the world, have mercy on me.

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APPEAL FOR PARDON

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ACCEPT, O Lord, this appeal for pardon wrung from our afflicted and repentant souls, and in true sorrow for our sins and the sins of our relatives and friends.

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We ask Pardon, O Divine Heart! for public scandals and evil living, for all who try to stir up disorder,f or all who corrupt Thy little ones, for those who spend their youth and fortune in sensuous living, for crimes in families, the sins of parents and children.

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We ask Pardon, O Divine Heart! for those who traffic in public crime, for those who lead and lure souls to eternal damnation by riches and corrupt literature, for those who excite evil passions by immodest fashions, corrupt plays and degenerate art.

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We ask Pardon, O Divine Heart! for all attacks against our Holy Father the Pope, for all organized disobedience against Holy Mother the Church, for all weak and straying souls, for sinners who resist grace, for all abuse of the Sacraments or any outrage against the Holy Eucharist. Amen.

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ACT OF REPARATION

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O GOOD JESUS, in gratitude for Thy many Graces, and in sorrow for many abuses of these Graces, I wish at this moment, both for myself, ever ungrateful, and for the world, ever criminal, to make an Act of Solemn Reparation.

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Listen then, O merciful Savior of our souls, listen to these Acts of Faith, to these expressions of sorrow:

For the irreverence we have committed in the House of God I wish to make reparation.

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For our careless and distracted attendance at Sunday Mass I wish to make reparation.

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For our lack of preparation before, and our poor thanksgiving after Holy Communion I wish to make reparation.

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For our failure to co-operate with Thy daily Graces I wish to make reparation.

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For our sins of pride, sensuality and of our entire life I wish to make reparation.

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For our bad example and the sins we have caused in others I wish to make reparation.

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For our tragic indifference to Thy words of Holy Scripture and to the words of our Holy Father the Pope

I wish to make reparation.

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For the deplorable untruths of heresy, for all deserters and apostates I wish to make reparation.

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For the pleasure-seeking and money-mad profaners of the Lord's Day I wish to make reparation.

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For the sacrilegious treatment of Thy churches and Altars I wish to make reparation.

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For the diabolical agents of Hell, ever seeking whom they may devour I wish to make reparation.

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For the heartbreaking outrages committed by those who should be Thy greatest consolation

I wish to make reparation.

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"O Love neglected! O Goodness but too little known."

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Litany in Reparation to Our Lord in the Eucharist

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For private use only.

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Lord, have mercy on us.

Christ, have mercy on us.

Lord, have mercy on us.

Christ, hear us.

Christ, graciously hear us.

God the Father of Heaven,

Have mercy on us.

God the Son, Redeemer of the world,

Have mercy on us.

God the Holy Spirit,

Have mercy on us.

Holy Trinity, One God,

Have mercy on us.

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Sacred Host, offered for the salvation of sinners,

Have mercy on us.

Sacred Host, annihilated on the altar for us and by us,

Have mercy on us.

Sacred Host, despised by lukewarm Christians, etc.

Sacred Host, mark of contradiction,

Sacred Host, delivered over to Jews and heretics,

Sacred Host, insulted by blasphemers,

Sacred Host, Bread of angels, given to animals,

Sacred Host, flung into the mud and trampled underfoot,

Sacred Host, dishonored by unfaithful priests,

Sacred Host, forgotten and abandoned in Thy churches,

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Be merciful unto us,

Pardon us, O Lord.

Be merciful unto us,

Hear us, O Lord.

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For the outrageous contempt of this most wonderful Sacrament,

We offer Thee our reparation.

For Thine extreme humiliation in Thine admirable Sacrament,

We offer Thee our reparation.

For all unworthy Communions, etc.

For the irreverences of wicked Christians,

For the profanation of Thy sanctuaries,

For the holy ciboriums dishonored and carried away by force,

For the continual blasphemies of impious men,

For the obduracy and treachery of heretics,

For the unworthy conversations carried on in Thy holy temples,

For the profaners of Thy churches which they have

desecrated by their sacrileges,

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That it may please Thee to increase in all Christians

the reverence due to this adorable Mystery,

we beseech Thee, hear us.

That it may please Thee to manifest the Sacrament

of Thy Love to heretics,

we beseech Thee, hear us.

That it may please Thee to grant us the grace to atone for their hatred by our burning love for Thee, etc.

That it may please Thee that the insults of those who outrage

Thee may rather be directed against ourselves,

That it may please Thee graciously to receive this our humble reparation,

That it may please Thee to make our adoration acceptable to Thee,

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Pure Host, hear our prayer.

Holy Host, hear our prayer.

Immaculate Host, hear our prayer.

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Lamb of God, Who takest away the sins of the world,

Spare us, O Lord.

Lamb of God, Who takest away the sins of the world,

Graciously hear us, O Lord.

Lamb of God, Who takest away the sins of the world,

Have mercy on us.

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Lord, have mercy on us.

Christ, have mercy on us.

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V. See, O Lord, our affliction,

R. And give glory to Thy Holy Name.

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Let Us Pray.

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O Lord Jesus Christ, Who dost deign to remain with us in

Thy wonderful Sacrament to the end of the world, in order to

give to Thy Father, by the memory of Thy Passion, eternal glory,

and to give to us the Bread of life everlasting: Grant

us the grace to mourn, with a heart full of sorrow, over the

injuries which Thou hast received in this adorable Mystery,

and over the many sacrileges which are committed by the impious,

by heretics and by bad Catholics.

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Inflame us with an ardent zeal to repair all these insults to which,

in Thine infinite mercy, Thou hast preferred to expose Thyself

rather than deprive us of Thy Presence on our altars, Who with God

the Father and the Holy Spirit livest and reignest one God,

world without end. R. Amen.

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PRAYER FOR FAITH IN THE REAL PRESENCE

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WE COME to Thee, dear Lord, like the Apostles, saying: "INCREASE OUR FAITH."

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Give us a VIVID FAITH, that Thou art really present in the Blessed Sacrament, a STRONG and ACTIVE FAITH that we may live by it.

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Give us the FAITH of Thy beloved disciple, John, to recognize Thee and say: "It is the Lord." "My God and my All!"

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Give us the FAITH of Peter to fall on our knees and confess: "Thou art the Christ, the Son of the Living God."

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Give us the FAITH of Mary Magdalen to fall at Thy Feet, crying, "Rabboni, Master!"

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Give us the FAITH of the father of the sick boy, that FAITH which Thou didst reward with a miracle when he cried out in tears, "I do believe, Lord! help my unbelief."

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Give us the FAITH of all Thy Saints to whom the Blessed Sacrament was Heaven begun on earth.

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In every Communion and at every visit, increase our FAITH, our LOVE, our HUMILITY, our REVERENCE, and all good things will come to us. Dearest Lord, INCREASE OUR FAITH.