#maybe a cleric who knows his religion i dare say

[caducityclay]

Guys...did I miss something? Why Is Ashton saying he Is going to be anti-gods now? I love his character so much but I can't for the life of me make sense of his logic. If he doesn't like them bc they are The Authority ok legit but then why did he not hate them since the start of the campaign? Why now? Is It Just because of the new info on his nature?

More confusion under cut (I don't want to spread negativity I just don't get It)

Edit: I got Amazing answers in the comments! If you are curious I suggest you take a look. Now everything is more clear for me. This post was about Ep 72, (before the shard explosion).

Were they not "lowkey-waiting-to-be-picked" neutral? Why does he think the Dawnfather hates him specifically? Like, Bro, an Angel of the Dawnfather (not he himself) saw you attacking his fucking temple, what were they supposed to do, fucking hug you? And he also assumes That bc Dawnfather (notorious bitch) supposedly hates him, then all of the gods don't like him??? What the fuck Is up with That?

[nokaru]

Red, yellow, green and 8 ball for the OC ask! Any OC(s) of your choosing <3

Meefy my beloved hello hiii ilysm thank u for the ask ^^ this is a LONG one bear with me here jsjsjs naturally AnS OCs!

🔴 Red- What is a trait your OC has that those around them don't see very often? Is it seen by a rare few or completely overlooked?

Zarr: his melancholy and nostalgia. He hypocritically preaches "what is dead is dead, past is past and dwelling on it will only bring you down" but he drags the dead weight of his past along with himself, his heavy heart grounds him in some sense but inevitably it is just what it is - a burden. He doesn't let anyone in besides very few privileged ones, so only one who's aware of his internal turmoil is his wife Rita. and maybe Butcher knows but does not talk about it.

Rita: her aggressivity. She's not naturally an angry person, dare I say she's the calmest of them all actually but she has a tendency to bottle things up and she rarely flies off the handle ...so boy when she does get mad MAD heads start "falling off". Besides that, the actual hidden trait would be her two-facedness. She has an image of a good and approachable person about her but she wouldn't be the big boss of the underground assassination scene if she was all unicorns and rainbows.

🟡 Yellow- What is something your OC wants but knows they can never have? How does it feel to never get this specific desire?

Tsu: something something never shooting his shot with Zarr when he had the change when they were young something something buried first love something something always the right-hand man and close companion nothing more something something just being happy by your side something something gay 🫵

Emi: perhaps it's just in a poet's nature to long for something, to yearn for something more, anything beyond what you have now. Yes, she's the richest she's ever been. She has all the comforts that soothe her whims and needs. Yet she wants more and more. Maybe what she actually desires is the familiarity of her youth, the bad smell of a shady tavern, the sweet taste of her lover's lips- ANYWAY

🟢 Green- What is considered a weakness in your OC that is actually a strength? What is a strength in your character that can be twisted into a weakness?

Sister Fiona: some may say her weakness is her religiousness? ((I hc that the AnS universe runs on multiple gods type of system but even though, Fiona and the underground's main "religion" is pretty pagan. She's a nun/cleric of Somni, goddess of night travelers, thieves and whatnot.)) Even though Fiona does not act as a proper "nun" she has set values and doctrines she follows, which may restrict her sometimes. Lacking freedom and dedicating your life to a god (even tho the god is extremely well respected) can be seen as a weakness if not a burden in the eyes of the underworld. For Fiona her belief is her strength, ofc not as big big of a strength as her sword but still...Her dedication is what fuels her in life. Also being a nun of Somni means you are automatically respected and nobody picks a fight with you so yeah.

Roslyn: her independence is her strong suit. She wouldn't be a fearsome pirate captain without being as independent as her at such a young age. Naturally, too much independence turns into a hindrance. Distrust and loneliness are her two close friends.

🎱 8 Ball- What situation was your OC lucky to escape from or get out of? What or who helped them unexpectedly?

Nokaru: long story short - getting abandoned by Obi, being held and tortured by a rival clan for a few months was less that ideal for her development. She got out, by herself, with no help. She walked all the way back to her clan's headquarters like nothing happened. She's not lucky, she's just competent.

Emi AGAIN cause I love her: Emi's life is just a series of unfortunate events, from getting out of her overbearing, manipulative patron's estate to managing to "take care" of a corrupt almost-husband and his family's sick marriage plan Emi has seen it all when it comes to Tanbarun aristocracy. What helped her get out of all the misfortune in her life were her ambitions for riches and recognition. Also her very nice but very shady and scheming ex-boyfriend (Tom tommyboy 👈 Obi's older bro)

[weirdochick56]

the Sweetest Sin- Dean Winchester AU Imagine

Priest!Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Explicit language. 

Disclaimers: My characters don’t reflect my views on religion or Catholicism. I’m not an expert on religion or Catholicism by any means so please forgive any mistakes I make. 

Word Count: 4, 179 words

Summary: When the Reader, a girl who prefers to stay away from religion altogether feels lost in the world, she stumbles into a church by chance. In there she hopes to search for herself and her purpose, but what she ends up finding instead is father Dean Winchester, a man who is devout to his faith and God but can’t help his carnal desire for the mysterious girl who shows up at the church late at night. 

***

(Gif isn’t mine!)

This storm was ridiculous. The rain came down in big, fat droplets from the sky. Fast and aggressive, the dark clouds above you were rolling in and out, dropping more and more rain as they went, obscuring your vision of the road more and more as time went by. 

You clicked your tongue in annoyance, hands tightening on the steering wheel so much your knuckles turned white. 

“Fuck,” you couldn’t help but softly release the curse under your breath.

The word felt so familiar on your tongue, overused even..and yet you couldn’t help but hear your mother’s voice probing from one of the dark, dank corners of your brain. 

“Why you wretched-mouthed girl! How dare you spew such profanities in front of God?”

You grinned cruelly. God. God didn’t give a dead rat’s last shit about you much less about the number of fucks you damn well please to‘spew’. 

Shaking your head slightly to rid yourself of any thoughts on your family and God, you decide the rain was coming down too hard too fast and you needed need to pull over in the nearest building. It was too dangerous to drive like this. 

You’d been slowly driving through a few small towns this time around, looking for a new place to stay in for a while before doing what you always did and fleeing as fast as your 1970 Chevrolet El Camino would allow you.

Your search had come up fruitless though, and now you were more lost than you were when you began. Maybe even more on a mental and emotional sense that a physically literal one. 

A girl your age was supposed to have it all figured out by now. A nice college, a nice boyfriend, a nice life. Especially a girl with a family like yours. 

You had an entire future planned for you. One that was filled with comfort and endless possibilities but you gave that up and took to the road and your grandfather’s car for the comfort and support your own damn family refused to give to you. 

Off to the distance, you can see a blur of a building. A relieved smile curls your lips and you quickly speed closer to it. Upon closer inspection, you realize it’s a damn church. Because of course it is. You mentally roll your eyes.  

You try not to let the fact stop you from taking shelter from the storm as you park to a stop in front of the small building.  

Taking a deep breath, you grab your phone and duffel bag. Turning off the engine to your car, you decide that as soon as you get out you’ll make a run for it. 

Shutting the door behind you, you can immediately feel your clothes and face and hair dampen, the rain cold and hard against your face. You break into a sprint, pushing your legs as far as they’ll go until you’re standing under the church’s steps. 

You slowly walk up to the large wooden door before you, shivering. Your hand is wrapped tightly around your duffel bag’s strap and your phone is safely tucked into your back jean pocket. 

You harshly knock on the door. No one answers so you do it again, this time harder and more pronounced. No answer. 

You sigh, slumping against the door and sitting on the last stone step with resignation. 

Looking out to the dark night, you watched as the rain hit the pavement of the street before you and sigh dejectedly once more. What had your life come to? I mean really. What the hell were you doing with it? What was your future? Would you ever have kids? Ever get married? Have an apple pie life?

How much longer would your almost completely mindless wandering last before there’d be nothing left of you? 

Lost in your existential crisis, you feel more lost than you ever have. The world around you is confusing and blurry with the rain and you’ve never felt more frustrated with your thoughts and emotions. The stupid door wasn’t opening and you were outside a fucking church! Isn’t God supposed to be there for you when you needed him most? 

“This is exactly why I refuse to-!”

And then suddenly, you’re falling backward the world around you spins upside down and you wonder if you’re floating for a split-second of insanity until it all comes crashing down on you. Or well- your body does anyways. You realize you’ve fallen backward when you land on your back and head, a sharp pain erupting throughout your backside. You yelp, eyes immediately squeezing shut in ache. 

“Oh God, I’m so sorry miss!” At the distinctly deep, raspy voice your eyes snap open in alertness and widen at the sight before you. 

The breath was knocked out of you momentarily when gravity worked its power and pulled you to the ground, but you’re almost certain it isn’t the reason your breath hitches the next time around. 

No. The reason behind your hitched breath this time is in the form of a man. Dressed from head to toe in clerical attire, he towered over you. With a black collar shirt, lined by a white tab collar and black jeans that hugged his slim hips. 

His handsome face was twisted into a frown, soft, pouty pink lips creasing with concern and the prettiest pair of apple green eyes you’ve ever seen glancing down at you all wide and glittery.

“Are you okay?” 

You can see his ridiculously soft mouth moving but you’re too dazed by the way a strand of otherwise spiky dirty blonde hair falls onto his forehead and your sudden urge to brush it away with your fingertips. Your hand twitches.

“Oh no. Are you hurt really bad, miss?” The very real guilt and distress in his voice are what snaps you from your momentary trance. 

...one now wondered was caused by the blow to your head or just the beautiful human being standing above you.

Shaking your head, you slowly sit up. A sharp pain explodes on the back of your head, shocking you momentarily as a small pained groan tumbles out from your damp lips. 

The priest is quick to lean down, wrapping his large hands around your shoulder and ribs to help you up. You ignore how good their warmth feels all pressed up against your cold, wet skin and steady yourself onto your two feet, all the while leaning into him for support. 

“Thank you,” you mumble, rubbing the sore spot on your head. 

The priest, who you can’t help but notice smells incredible, hums in acknowledgment. He patiently helps you to a pew, settling you down softly before kneeling before you. 

You hate to admit that you find yourself utterly disappointed when his hands are gone from your body.

You look down at him and smile softly. “Thanks.” 

And just when you thought he couldn’t get more fucking attractive, his lips curl into what you think is a grin, flashing two rows of pearly whites and practically melting you into a puddle right there and then. 

“You should really stop saying that,” his lips then dip into a sheepish smile. “I was the one who made you fall after all.” 

His green eyes glimmer with a sort of mischevious emotion that is gone almost as soon as it arrived and for some odd reason- leaves you utterly breathless. 

“You were, weren’t you?” You breathe out. searching his gaze for any trace of that look. 

He licks his lip, tongue flicking over the luscious pink muscle while his green gaze trails over your body slightly. You know it probably wasn’t with this intention (because how could it?), but something about the way he looked at you it...left a trail of goosebumps in its wake, a shiver traveling through your spine. Arousal in its rawest form. 

You were a bit startled by your body’s reaction to this complete stranger (who also just so happened to be a goddamn priest) and how instant it was. I mean, you just met the man.

“What were you doing out there in this storm, sweetheart?” his voice was soft and worried as he spoke to you, but didn’t fit the bearing he was giving off. 

His natural tone was grave and deep and so masculine, made much more for yelling out orders and profanities than prayers. It didn’t really fit this mild-mannered priest thing he had going on. In fact, none of him did. 

He was young and quite honestly- hot. What was he doing being a priest? Your interest and curiosity to know more about him peaks. 

“I was driving but I had to pull over to the nearest stop. Too dangerous,” you briefly explain. 

He nods in understanding. “I’m Dean, by the way. I was just closing up the place when the storm hit.” He looks out to the street before glancing back at you with a small smile. “No way I can drive home with the weather acting up like this.” 

You smile apologetically. “I’m sorry for bursting in.” 

He shakes his head, placing a comforting hand on your knee. “Hey, no problem sweetheart. I’m actually glad for the company. Plus, we welcome all here.” 

You nod, clearing your throat, and trying really hard not to focus on his hand placed so softly and warm on your clothed skin. The touch was light and playful, but you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the intensity and slight tension of it too.

He smiles comfortingly, retracting his hand. A comfortable silence settles in between you and you look around the small church, taking in the architecture, the paintings depicting scenes you were far too familiar with from the bible until priest Dean speaks up.

“Hey,” he frowns funnily at you. “What is exactly that you refuse to do?” 

You furrow your brows, confused. “What?”

He laughs and your insides turn to jelly. 

How could one human being be so fucking gorgeous? It’s not fair.

“When I opened the door you were saying something like ‘this is exactly why I refuse to’...what? What is it that you refuse to do exactly?” He looks at you attentively. His gaze is heavy and lightening all at once and you’re so confused by what it makes you feel.

What you were going to say suddenly dawns on you and you can’t help but blush, pursing your lips. 

“So?...” he urges softly.

You grin sheepishly, tugging at the long sleeves of your white shirt down to your knuckles. Licking your lips, you sigh out loudly, facing the altar. The same sculpture of Jesus being crucified in every Christian church stared back at you. He’s bloody and sort of...resignated. 

You can’t help but cringe when your mother’s voice slithers back into your brain. Nudging. Judging. Constant. 

“Y/n, God doesn’t like naughty girls. And what you have been doing is sinful. Unholy on many levels. He’s watching. He’s always watching. He’s everywhere and he’s tallying this all up against you. You’ll burn in hell if you continue down this path of self-destruction young lady!”

“I was gonna say..” you sigh heavily again, your blush intensifying. You finally build enough courage to face him. “That this is why I refuse to believe in God.” By now your voice has dropped to a breathy whisper. 

I mean, you were afraid of somehow...offending him. He was a damn priest, for fuck’s sake! He’s sworn under oath to God. 

You await his reaction anxiously, expecting a frown or a reprimand like the ones your mom used to give you, but all he does is hum in acknowledgment, face unreadable. 

 “And why’s that?” He looks forward to the sculpture of Jesus as you stare at him, trying to decipher what he thought of you. 

Your eyes trail over the sharp edges of his handsome face. His long lashes and brilliant green eyes, his soft pouty pink lips- beckoning you closer to him. Begging to be caressed with your own lips.

“Well, my life hasn’t been going so good lately, I just- I thought God was supposed to help you if you asked him to, right?”

He turns to you with raised brows. “Well have you?” He doesn’t sound judgy, just curious.

You think ponder it for a while. “Well, no.” 

He chuckles lightly. “Well, that may be why, sweetheart.”

You slouch. “I just...if I’m honest I just- I don’t believe in him anymore. I used to, well- not believe in him. More like I believed he existed. But that stopped a while ago, I just didn’t want to keep doing that to myself I guess.” You shrug softly. 

“Doing what, sweetheart?” He asks softly, not pushing you in a harsh way. Merely just..deeply curious to know.

You hesitate, turning to look into his warm apple green eyes before biting your lip in thought. He has such a welcoming, comforting gaze....plus, you’d probably never see him again after this, so would it really hurt to share your life story to a stranger you’d never see ever again?

“Believing in a God that will judge me for every little mistake I make. I don’t want to belive in a God that hates me for being human.”

At this, father Dean laughs. He laughs. 

You immediately regret opening up to him. “This was a mistake,” you start getting up hurriedly. 

His hand resting on your elbow stops you though, tugging you gently down next to him. “Oh lord, no sweetheart. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, it’s just- your perception of God is awfully skewed to me. I’m sorry,” he breathes earnestly.

You look at him for a second longer and sigh, settling down next to him again. 

He continues. “The God I believe in doesn’t hate. He loves endlessly. He loves all his creations. Us especially. He’s forgiving and perfect and holy.”

You scoff. “Not the God I was raised with clearly.” You smirk sadly. “Everything I did was always wrong and he’d always find a way to punish me for it.”

You quickly grow uncomfortable with how comfortable you are sharing some of your most intimate details with this complete stranger and nervously rub your hands over your damp jeans to wipe away the sweat from your palms.

Father Dean, looks at you with a quirk of his luscious lips but quickly averts his eyes, a blush steadily creeping up his neck and ears. 

You raise a brow. “What?”

He swallows, rubbing his scruff, but still facing toward the altar. Refusing to so much as glance at you. “You might uh-” he motions to you loosely with his hand. “Y-you might want to cover up, sweetheart.” He clears a crack from his voice with a small cough. 

You look down, alarmed, only to have a blush of your own spread throughout your body like wildfire. You’d completely forgotten that you threw on a thin white long sleeve shirt this morning. The rain had made it see-through and your black lacy bra was now on awfully vast display. 

“O-oh!” You quickly use your arms to cover up, your body flushing even more. “I’m so sorry, I-I don’t have anything to uh...”

“I-it’s fine. Here. Just...” He nods and begins taking his jacket off, still refusing to look at you. 

You take the jacket and throw it over your shoulders, inhaling the delicious scent that almost instantly engulfed you. It was subtle but also so strong and dizzying to your senses. A scent that was soft but masculine all at once. God he smelled good.

“Thank you,” you softly mumble in gratitude, smiling gently at him.

He finally faces you, returning your smile with a sincere one of his own.

The atmosphere was unlike any you’d ever been in. It was the same level of static and silent as anytime you were alone in a shitty motel room, but quiet. They were two different kinds of muteness. Quiet was comfortable, comforting even.

For you, being in silence usually meant having to listen to your brain ramble on and on about all your mistakes- big and small. 

But something about having father Dean next to you -his mere presence- calmed you and your stupid brain. (It was a smart brain, sure, but an overactive one too. )

Your heartbeat was strong and steady, your body felt awfully warm with his big jacket wrapped around you and you tightened it over your shoulders more, inhaling deeply through your nose once more.

“So...” you start. “What got you into this? Being a priest and all, I mean.” You quickly realize how nosey and pushy you sound, rushing to correct yourself. “I mean if you don’t mind me asking that is, of course!”

He laughs and it’s all manly and deep and husky and-ugh. This was so wrong to feel for a damn priest.

“Not at all, sweetheart. I guess I was kinda...born into it? Family business and all. My dad was a priest and so was my grandfather before him. I’m the oldest brother so I followed behind my father’s footsteps like a good son, I guess.” He shrugs, but there’s a light heaviness in his voice that throws you off.

“What about your other siblings?” You inquire.

“One, actually. Sammy. He’s younger than me.” His face immediately lights up at the mention of his younger brother. “He’s a lawyer. Didn’t wanna continue in the family business, I guess.” He shrugged. 

“Was your father angry?”

He laughs a bit sadly and your heart clenches. “He was pretty upset. They fought about that the last time they saw eachother, actually. Then dad died.” He looks down at his hands.

You place a tender hand on his broad shoulder, ignoring the very clear, defined muscles flexing under your touch. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to bring anything painful up.”

He grins at you, shaking his head. “Nah. Don’t worry sweetheart. Sammy is actually doing pretty good for himself.” His mesmerizing eyes light up with a damn endearing brotherly kind of pride. “Graduated from Stanford and all. Started his own firm a few towns over.”

You move your hand away a bit reluctantly, clasping it with your other hand and ignoring the small tingles coursing all the way to your arm.

“Do you like being a priest?” You ask a bit hesitantly. It was a bit of a risky question, but you assumed that you’d shared enough about your lives to be able to ask this comfortably. 

He freezes, startled at the question you presumed. 

“It’s been in my family for three generations, so I was raised with a huge faith in God and this lifestyle allows me to help others do the same.”

You smirk softly, raising your brows. “That’s not what I asked.”

He sighs, shoulders slumping. He looks upward- toward the sky, as if the bland beige ceiling of the hutch would give him answers.

“Do I like being a priest?” he repeats it to himself under his breath. He looks at you with a tiny smirk. “Ya’ know sweetheart, I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me that question. I think...” he trails off, rubbing his sexy scruff. “I do,” he finally says, looking at you once more. “I get to work with a lot of underprivileged people and people who are better off as well, but I love helping people of all backgrounds find their path to God. I also like being able to give food and clothes and a place to sleep to people who really need it in the name of God because he is the one that makes this,” he motions to everything around him. “All of this, possible. I love giving back, I guess is the shortest way to describe it?”

You can tell he’s genuine, the way he speaks of his work. Passionate about it, driven. And yet- you’re left wondering about why he even had to think about the question in the first place. He liked it, clearly. Was enthusiastic about it, but did he love it?... And if not, why?

A smile spreads over your face inevitably. What an incredible man. It wasn’t fair that you couldn’t have him, your heart deflates.

“That’s amazing,” you admit earnestly.

He smiles modestly, face slightly reddening. “I guess it is. I don’t really...” he gulps. “I don’t know...sometimes I think that because of how I am- messed up, what I’m doing really means nothing.”

Your eyes widen incredulously, unable to believe someone like him could think so little of himself. “Are you kidding me?! Of course, it is! You’re dedicating yourself to helping people, selflessly. I mean-” your voice lowers slightly as you watch him closely. “You’re giving up a lot of things for your faith. That’s pretty incredible.” 

He frowns at you. “What kind of things?” 

You chuckle softly, shrugging. “I don’t know...things I know most people wouldn't be willing to give up. And I mean, it’s not my intention to presume anything about you, Father, but you’re pretty young and I’m assuming unmarried since you don’t have a ring.” And attractive to a point that should be illegal, you added mentally. 

You gulp, looking up at him nervously through your lashes. “I think you’ve had to give more than a few things up.”

He sighs, contemplating this. Finally, he asks, “and do you think that it was hard for me to give these things up? A ‘normal’ life for my faith?” he uses his fingers to create quotations around the word. 

You observe the way he’s looking at you. He doesn’t seem angry or offended...more like he himself is observing closely for your own reaction to his question. Testing you, in a way.

So you swallow your sudden anxiety and embarrassment down, looking him in the eye. 

“I would assume so,” you mumble honestly. 

The moment slows down for some reason. Maybe because it was quiet- too quiet. Maybe because everything was in sync at that moment. Maybe it was because his warmth was so inviting and he smelled so good. Or maybe it was because you’d found a safe haven amidst a storm- not in a place but in a person.

And suddenly you’re both looking into each other's eyes, gazing intently. You wanted to figure him out- you wanted to know everything that there was to know about that warm yet mysterious gaze of his. It was penetrating in a way you’d never expected. You felt so vulnerable under it- like he could easily see through you. 

It startled you, but also made you feel so alive. No one had looked at you in that way for a while. No one had much cared for anything that had to do with you at all in a while, actually. 

He chuckles, low and airy, his gaze trailing over your face in languid, gradual strokes. 

It was so intense you swore you could feel his eyes caressing your skin- only lightly, though. 

“There are some things...” his eyes land on your lips. “That I miss....things that I wish I could have again. Things I lay awake at night thinking about.” 

His words are so provocative and teasing and so fucking sensual, your stomach clenches in pure and unadulterated need. 

Your breath catches, lips parting as you take in the adorable freckles peppered all over his nose and cheeks. You were close enough to count them and clearly see the brown specks in his striking irises. 

You hold your caught breath, waiting for him to continue speaking. You could almost see the words he was suppressing pushing at the tip of his tongue. 

He finally breaks after a few moments of deep pondering. 

“You’re really beautiful, sweetheart,” he mutters so low, you have to strain to hear. 

You gulp the lump in your throat, heart racing. “Th-thank you. You are too.” 

He licks his bottom lip, slow and torturous and my God, did you want to sin right now. “Thanks,” he rasps. 

God likes good girls who don’t betray his trust, Y/n. You must always remain focused on pleasing him. And only him. He is all that matters. 

His hand is reluctant and all too light when it softly brushes your cheekbone. Father Dean watches you closely, clearly nervous that you’ll flinch away. 

But you only shudder under his touch, leaning into it. 

“Father-”

“Call me Dean, please” he husks soft and your insides quite literally quiver.

“Dean,” you correct yourself meaningfully. “I just- fuck.” You gradually lean away from his touch. “You’re under oath and I don’t wanna be the one to-”

He finally snaps out of it, practically jumping away from you. You find yourself immediately feeling empty at the absence of touch almost immediately. 

“God, of course, sweetheart. I am so sorry. I swear thay I’m not usually like this- I just...” he pauses, gazing at you softly. “I don’t know what it is about you,” he breathes.

You shake your head quickly getting up. “It’s fine, I know it was a heat-of-the-moment kind of thing. This storm is really stressful and tensions are high ‘round these parts and...yeah. Don’t worry ‘bout it.” What you’re saying makes absolutely no fucking sense, but you’re desperate for an out. 

You run your fingers through your hair, looking out the window. “And look, it’s already over so I’ll just uh, be going now. Again, thank you for everything father. I really, really appreciate it.” You speak quickly, flustered, and don’t let him get a word in before you spin on your heels and walk away as fast as you can. 

“Hey!” he calls from behind you. 

You pause walking and look at him over your shoulder. “Yeah?”

“I never got your name, sweetheart.” 

You smile. “It doesn’t matter what my name is. You’ll never see me again, Dean.” 

And then you walked out. 

***

So here’s a short-ish imagine because I’m a complete hoe for forbidden tropes, I’m sorry...

Lol, If y’all want a second part, lemme know, please!

Feedback is ALWAYS welcomed. Messages, replies, reblogs...I see them all!

A Special Thanks to:

@wildefire  -my only SPN tag. 

IF YOU WANNA BE TAGGED PLEASE SEND ME AN ASK OR MESSAGE. ALL MY TAG LISTS ARE OPEN.

And my lovely forevers, of course!

@jessikared97

@lilypalmer1987

@meowsekai

@ladyofletters67

[randomoranges]

It bothered me that in the og version I had written that someone checked their phone for an answer and then realised that if this was taking place in the 90s, such a thing was impossible. I finally fixed it haha.

Perfect Cities Forgive me Father for I Have Sinned/Trivia Night

 Edward didn’t know what it was about this place, but Étienne liked going to this one bar that had trivia night every Wednesday. No matter what time of the year he visited, if he was there on a Wednesday and they didn’t have any other plans, Étienne would drag him to the bar. They never participated, but Étienne would answer the questions under his breath, much to Edward’s amusement.

 However, on this particular Wednesday night, Étienne felt particularly daring and he signed them up to participate. Edward had no idea how this would end and he figured he would let Étienne answer all the questions, since it had been his brilliant idea.

 “I’ll take the theology category.” Étienne said, when he was asked. Edward raised an eyebrow at him. Étienne hadn’t had that much to drink. Edward had no idea what game he was playing at.

 His curiosity was piqued.

 The first question went to the other couple they were playing against. When they got it wrong, Edward saw Étienne smirk, before he launched in a full and very detailed answer, on some very obscure Christian topic.

 To say that he was surprised would be putting it mildly, but Edward figured Étienne had read the information on a milk carton, or something.

 The following question went to them and Edward hadn’t even heard of the Saint that had apparently given up their eyes in order to save the poor, but Étienne had and he answered the question perfectly as though he was an expert on the subject.

 Edward could only gawp at him as others in the bar started to take notice. He ordered himself another drink and downed it in one gulp. Something told him he would need it.

 By the third round of questions, it was clear to everyone present that Étienne was some kind of expert on the topic, when he politely corrected the host who had the actual answer sheet.

 For a brief moment, everyone thought that Étienne had been wrong, until another person looked through the book the bar kept on the various subjects of the questions, to confirm that Étienne was right and the answer key wrong.

 The smug look on Étienne’s face was hard to miss.

 “Okay, enlighten me, what gives?” Edward whispered when they took a break.

 Étienne batted his eyelashes at him and gave him an innocent look over his drink. “What do you mean?”

 “How d’you know all this stuff? Did you get the questions ahead of time?”

 “Mr. Murphy, are you accusing me of cheating? I am shocked.” Étienne said, acting all faux-hurt.

 “Well, did you?”

 “I’ll have you know I did not.” He sighed and gave him a pointed look.

 Edward did not look convinced. “Yeah right.”

 “What, you don’t think I’m smart enough to know these things?”

 “No... well... I guess I just figured you would know more about –”

 “The Habs and language laws?” Étienne interrupted.

 “Yes and less about –”

 “Theology and religious topics?”

 Edward paused. “Yeah, something like that. To some extent anyways – I mean, maybe the Catholic bits, but not.... everything else.”

 Étienne gave him a rueful grin. “Ah, but you forget, my good friend, that most of my upbringing was exactly this. And as the saying goes –”

 “Je me souviens. Yeah, yeah.”

 “Good. You’re learning.”

 “But okay, so you grew up with this. I still call bullshit though. There’s no way you could go to such depths in an argument just because you grew up with a thing. That was some next level analogy.”

 “Ah, you got me there.” Étienne admitted sheepishly.

 “So you did cheat?”

 “No. I legitimately know this stuff.” He defended.

 “Do explain. As much as I’m enjoying crushing the other team, I’d like to know who I have to thank for our victory.”

 Étienne was quiet for a moment and bought himself some time by taking a long gulp of his drink. He tried to think of the best way to explain to his friend the truth without revealing too much about himself.

 The thing was, when he had been younger, religion had intrigued him. He had been taught about the kind son of God who had died for their sins, had shared his bread and wine with the unlikeliest of men and women and who had preached about love and acceptance. He had wondered how such a son could have an unforgiving father, as the priests made him sound, and so Étienne had started asking pastors and priests alike, engaging in deep conversations with those who had not been afraid of his curiosity.

 His discussions and debates over texts and ideologies of Christianity amused him and brought him a new understanding of Man. Many times, he had been kicked out from a church for voicing his opinion on a certain matter that the local priest disagreed with. His reading into the passages of the bible was too scandalous and even prohibited for the time, but Étienne continued to provoke and to engage with the clerics that liked a good challenge.

 He had made enemies, his brother had been at wits end, but he had also made some good and dear friends over the years.

 It wasn’t a fact he liked to share with just anyone, since he liked to cultivate a certain image of himself, but he still visited a few of his clergy friends and he was rather proud of his Master’s degree in theology studies. The fact that he taught part-time in two universities every so often was also another best-kept secret of his.

 He did not consider himself to be a religious man, had hated what religion had done to his people and his land, but it still intrigued him. He still wanted to understand what it was about it that attracted so many people to it. He had travelled the world to meet with other high members of different religions – all in the quest to understand.

 “Well?” Edward brought him back to their present conversation and he blinked. He still wasn’t sure how much he wanted to tell his friend.

 “Let’s just say... the subject is fascinating. Why do people seek comfort for their otherwise meaningless lives? How can one religion attract so many? Why do they fight over it? Our lives are long and sometimes you need a good hobby.”

 Edward was by no means satisfied with the answer, but he figured he would have time later to probe the matter. “Whatever you say, as long as you don’t make us look like fools.”

 “Don’t worry, I won’t. Just watch me destroy them.”

 “Oh, I will. I gotta say; it’s pretty hot seeing you actually correct the other team and the host.”

 “Yeah? Is it turning you on?” Étienne smirked and leaned a little closer to Edward.

 “And if it was?”

 Étienne laughed and sat back. “Well, if it is, I guess we can do something about it later, after I win, to celebrate and all.”

 “Sounds like a plan.”

 FIN 23

 Started writing: November 16th 2016, 9:43pm

Finished writing: November 17th 2016, 12:53am

Started typing: February 12th 2017, 6:41pm

Finished typing: February 12th 2017, 8:19pm

[vileart]

Notes and Thoughts on Unenlightened and Enlightened

Some time ago, I argued with my nephew: he said that the past can't be changed. Being a smart arse, I answered that the study of history iss  the process of changing the past so that it explains the present. In other words, the Enlightenment... The most frustrating thing, perhaps, about the history of the eighteenth century is the constant emphasis on religion. Maybe there is a better way to phrase that... most accounts of the 'age of reason' pay so much attention to the anti-clerical aspects of the philosophes that it starts to become tedious. Everything seems to relate back to some project to destroy religious thought, whether it's Voltaire having a crack at the Jesuits or Helvetius going hardcore atheism. This makes any attempt to disentangle strands of Enlightenment thought - say, the interest in time, theatre or civic virtue - very difficult. Yeah, I get it, and a single sentence can sum it up: the French philosophes wanted to challenge religious authority, and replace tradition and revealed truth with reason. And yep, this allowed them some flexibility in the way that they understood the universe, compared to the most dogmatic theological speculations. But it's like a neurosis - here's a chapter on how they understood geological time, and it challenges the Old Testament. Here's one about the social contract, and the Vatican can take that.  I started to wonder - who were these philosophes trying to convince? Nipping over to Germany, and there's Kant joining in... and it's religion where freedom of thought is most important and... You know, it's funny. Kant and his 'take courage and think!' routine. It's funny how he worries not about state censorship of the arts and the sciences - apparently, his Freddy the Great isn't bothered about that. It's the danger of a state imposing religion...  And Freddy was a notorious 'dissident' in matters of religious observance. Kant might be daring to think, but he's not daring to think against his monarch. He's supporting the freedom that Frederick II was giving him, probably. With all this shouting about religion in France, there seemed to be little consideration of the nature of power itself, no challenges to the monarchy directly. Or are these being ignored by historians in the rush to align the Enlightenment with secular modernity? Now that most European kings are either gone or toothless, is the attack on religion the only revolution left? Or are they finding the contemporary equivalent of 'the acceptable target'? Dunno. But I am bored by it. I fear that the past might have been rewritten in an attempt to explain the present.  from the vileblog http://ift.tt/2kPRvGu

[rainyrami-blog]

Mea (Draft)

Since I’m bored, let’s write this short piece of memory down.

There was a boy attending a swimming marathon.

To be more precise, it was the annual swimming test, where they graded the participants.

You would swim one kilometer. The time you had for that length would be measured and the grades were made with that information.

Anyway, on that day, the sun was shining and the rays were projected on the water surface, the water split the light and thus it was sparkling.

The boy wasn’t really into sports, he wasn’t good at them either, but he still looked forward to the weekly swimming lessons.

Incidentally, the annual test would happen instead of one of those lessons..

He disliked it when the teacher declared it to be a “free-lesson”, the boys would start to shrink into little brats again and play in the water while shouting and laughing loudly. It was just a plain annoyance to him.

He was already content with just swimming laps, no long speeches or explanation or even something which resembles a swimming lesson where the teacher actually teaches you something.

Of course, he wasn’t good at swimming or something, but laps really weren't too much of an effort for him compared to other competing types of sports; or running marathons, which always left his lungs screaming and feel the pain on different places. Obviously, nobody would care and just call him weak and lame instead.

The exercises in the water where when he could just force his body to do the troublesome task while his mind would fly somewhere else. He could just space out and let his body exhaust itself. The feeling of pure exhaustion and fatigue would come only afterward anyway when he would get out of the wet.

So on that day, when there was this swimming marathon, the boy was actually happy, even if he knew that he probably would get bad grades again.

With the signal from the teacher, everyone, only males naturally, jumped into the water and began to swim…

And so did he, his head dived in first, his torso followed and soon were his two feet swallowed by the sparkling liquid as well.

Everything turned blue, to be more precise, the floor of the pool was painted blue thus the water seemed to be blue as well, even if he was aware of that, it still felt like something was transforming...

While the world started to change its colors, he also started. He started to tell a tale when is mind slowly faded away…

(´～`)

The tale was about a boy, who was going to attend one of the most crucial turning points in his life.

The sun was shining and the flowers were blooming, it was one of those wonderful days.

He hated the physical activity which was awaiting him, due to the confrontation with it in his past although at the same time he was looking forward to it. It was something like his fate after all.

Today was a special day, a day where he could prove something important to himself and his ancestors. Something which would change his life, regardless if he won or not. It was something he really worked hard to gain, so a loss would throw him away while a success would give him the power to finally take the next step.

Thus, when the instructor gave his signal, he jumped into the cold water without hesitation. The arms first, the torso followed and the feet as well. Everything distorted, the sounds became dull and he started to lose his consciousness.

His eyes closed, he relied on his own yet weak body to accomplish this task, letting it create the one story he always yearned for. The story he suffered, bled and screamed for this whole time.

(ㆆᴗㆆ)

There was a girl.

To be more precise, a nymph.

For some reason, she ended up in the swimming pool of a certain school.

That place of education and improvements itself was infamous for teaching children to become adults. To be more precise: thiefs, which have the ability to hide their presence and attack with stealth, clerics, who were taught to the holy teachings of the religion and have great divine abilities to heal even the most severe wounds,  archers, who were blessed by the goddess of the hunt, wise users of the bow and arrows,  knights, who were  strong and full of courage, they wouldn’t back off even in front of the most disgusting or ominous monsters and  wizards, who were masters of one specific type of element.

The education system would provide those youngsters’ support and help them to choose their path. Make them useful for the society. To make them able to become adventurers eventually.

A person which was called good for nothing a long time ago, since it was more like an unsteady job, unsteady in the income. It was certainly possible to get rich quick, but the amount of money was based on the difficulty of the different tasks and the danger behind those.

You could not only lose everything, but you would lose everything when you fail.

The school was created by certain, poor adventurer, also a good for nothing which became later a hero.

As a hero he found himself drowning in a fountain of wealth, thus he decided to build a school to create strong adventurers.for the future.

Basically, the school was created to protect the world even after his death, it was his last gift to this world.

Incidentally, the hero eloped with a certain, mysterious girl and left the school for his party. The party consisted of a thief, a cleric, an archer, a knight, and a wizard. Since they were the party of the hero, of course, they were all outstanding by themselves and created the main categories of the school.

The hero himself and the girl were never seen again. Some people say that they became ghosts and were still watching over the school this day, but only nymphs would know that for sure.

Our water nymph here, certainly never saw him, even though she was a nymph of a near river. It was actually right in front of the school entrance.

The river was practically isolating the school from the country, people say that the hero himself made it as a sign of independence. It wouldn’t surprise anyone since the hero could easily afford to buy off the country from the king.

Only one single bridge was the connection which let many aspiring (maybe) future adventurers enter the school. Every year, when the new ones came, the river seemed to glow and sparkle. As it was welcoming the freshmen.

This would make the river a graceful and elegant thing, the pride of the school. However, there was also the day before the new students came. The day was the old ones graduated.

The school ends in a season where the weather is remarkably bad, thunders and flashes of lightning were showing up frequently and the river stream becomes so strong, that it even splashes over the bridge. Every time a graduate would try to leave the school and become a proper adventurer, the water would push the people from the bridge and spit them out on the other side, the side which wasn’t school territory more. A rather tough farewell, indeed.

Naturally, the person responsible for this was no one else than the water nymph. She didn’t like to say goodbye and was always melancholic on the graduation day.

A further sad moment for her was, that those two days were the only ones where she was active. The other days she would just peacefully watch the nature or listen to the children who admired the school from the outskirts. Since there was nothing more than the bridge at the outside of the school walls and because the school was basically a big, flowering city at this point, there were only rarely people who would cross the bridge on other days.

Usually during the vacations, where few students decide to visit their families. The wouldn’t wear their school uniform on those days but the clothes which they had on the first day, so she didn’t dare to mess with them.

One day, a certain day where again people were leaving the school for their reasons, she somehow was floating under the bridge and was eavesdropping on them.

Thus she heard about the annual event for the wizard classes. An event which involved her very own element.

The examination to find wizards who were able to create water with their mana. The element of water was the rarest of all. The reason was that it wasn’t needed by humans anymore. Water was everywhere and during the age of the hero, humans and nymph learned to live together peacefully and stopped fighting each other, which had lasted since then.

Water nymphs are incidentally the most common nymph types, they would keep the rivers, lakes, and seas clean in exchange for something. Such deals became the only natural between them and humans.

Combat-wise, water magic doesn’t seem to be useful at all. It was possible to create ice with it, sure, but that was also possible with the element of fire. The wizard of the hero’s party was also called “Researcher of Magic” besides “Master of Elements”. I don’t think that the second one needs an explanation.

As a researcher, he tried to come up with new, innovative ideas of using magic and thus he figured out a way to completely replace the combat abilities of water magic with fire.

The only thing water magic was still good was the healing and cleaning of the body and soul. Nowadays there were many resorts led by nymphs who would do that for a cheap price.  

Because it was the wizard’s fault for making the water magic useless for humans, he decided to create an annual event dedicated to the water element.

That event should help people grasp the sparks of the element water. It was said he was chanting and cursing many spells on that pool. The water would never get dirty but swimming in it was a still a difficult task, since it was able to cause pain in many different locations of the body to trigger the ones own mana.

The nymph of the river heard all of this and decided without thinking twice that she had to witness that exam.

She, which had the water element as its own essence she was able to do even more than a normal human water magician was capable of.

She pressed her whole being in one single water drop, evaporated it and then slowly rose over the walls of the school to then became liquid again and dropped on the head of a female teacher.

(ㆆᴗㆆ)

After many hardships, she eventually reached the pool of the wizard. Incidentally, it didn’t harm her anyway since she already mastered the element of water to 100%. Which was even for a water nymph extraordinary. Maybe the river was also enchanted and made her, who was inhabiting it, stronger.

She was exhausted and was floating in the water while observing those boys who got their bodies examined.

As the essence of water, she was able to compress herself to anything which contained the element of water in one way, it was difficult to move through airs due to the many different mana convection which was emitting from the instructors as well from some strong students. Thus she chose the hard way with body contact.

Everytime her current subject would touch someone, she would go to that person until she found someone who was related to that rumored examination.

Eventually, she found the person who was in charge of judging today’s attendees. Still shocked by the last teachers which were having “their sweet time” together she wasn’t able to correctly recall the way he took.

She just found herself in the pool at some point, apparently, the judge checked the temperature and touched the water with his fingers which transferred her again to a big water spot which started to fill her again with energy.

And there she was now, watching all those young men preparing for their examination. Their muscular bodies illuminated by the bright sunlight. A truly glorious spectacle.

While drooling, if that is what you call it in the case of a water nymph and observing those Heracles-like bodies she noticed him.

He was one of them, a boy with black hair and cold, blank, blue eyes which were directly staring at her.

After a while, she understood that he wasn’t staring at her but at the pool itself. He looked determined even though he seemingly looked like the weakest of all those men.

He wasn’t talking, laughing or goofing around with the others which treated the examination like a piece of cake or just didn’t cared enough for it since the exam was about the element water which was certainly unnecessary for the eyes of that time.

The single boy was the only one who was staring at the water and clenching his fists. He seemed determined.

The instructor gave his signal and his body immersed in the pool. The others started to groan but still continued to swim, while he was just diving in deeper.

No, he wasn’t diving, he was sinking.

The nymph, who had the feeling of concern and curiosity welling inside deep within her, approached him and also created a connection to his mind. He wasn’t aware of it of course...

How was she able to do that? A nymph-like herself, someone who mastered every possible part of the magic element water, was naturally able to enter every kind of flow.

In other words, since she was that one nymph who was inhabiting the river which was blessed by the hero, she was constantly confronted with the magical flow of his mana which was accumulated there. A mana which was created of someone who could be considered as supreme in that world.

Thus it is a natural conclusion, that she herself cannot be an ordinary nymph but something far above that and is also able to do way more than just usual.

The thought process of humans can be also considered as a flow, there were naturally some which were still able to engage in combat without thinking but usually, everyone thinks, even unconsciously which makes them forget about what they thought and gives them the illusion that they weren’t thinking about anything.

A flow certainly exists regardless, as there were currents of mana emitted by everything, there were also the flows of mind and soul which were visible for those who mastered the essence of that special movement. Just try to create an image of it in your mind, what does come first?

She wanted to enter the mind of the boy immediately after she saw his eyes. They were blue like hers when she was in her human form but for some odd reason, they were emotionless, cold as his soul was seemed to be broken as well..

His thought process was unexpected. It was not the usual mind which just consists of random words appearing and disappearing and were pretty hard to make sense out sometimes.

It was as he was actually talking. As he was telling someone a story. It was a monologue of the current situation and it was also explaining the reason of his cold gaze by telling/spilling everything out from the beginning, again and again.

(´～`)

His memories, told by the gentle yet cold voice of his soul.

The rival of the wizard which only mastered the element of water.

His lineage.

A clan

Mockery because he didn’t possess any elemental powers.

Domestic violence, pain inflicted by his own family because he was a failure. His parents beat him up after he lost to his siblings for the 100th time, needless to say, that they attacked him with strong water attacks which made his lungs scream for air each time.

Loss of the people who he thought were his friends, everyone started to look away from him and some even started to bully him because he wasn’t able to defend himself anyway.

The girl he loved not only rejecting him and telling him about her love to that talent. A kid who was considered to be a prodigy and was beloved by everyone. The boy knew he didn’t possess the right to get angry or jealous thus he just apologized to the girl and wished her good luck.

Eventually, he got banned from the clan, left with nothing. The just threw him somewhere in the desert, a place which didn’t possess much water and for him which lived in the clan of a water mage, it was something really unsettling. He understood that they hoped him to die there.

He begged traveler for water and food, he didn’t cry because all his tears were already gone after the nightmare which was once his home.

Most of the travelers just ignored him, some gave him food and he always bowed deeply when they did that. One traveling merchant picked him up and saved him.

They traveled together and thus they boy not only gained knowledge besides the water magic. How to calculate, how to kill monsters even without any mana or physical strength but only with intelligence.

The merchant was a healthy, round man who always said that the lazy lifestyle would acquire a large amount of wisdom. Since the sloth was at the end always the smartest.

The boy still stayed thin because he knew how precious food was and how even a low amount of it was able to keep him alive for one day with certain techniques. Incidentally, the merchant was although his appearance the very person who taught him that.

After one year the boy left merchant after repaying him everything he earned on his own. The boy learned from his mastered and was able to give everything back to him. He thanked and apologized before he parted ways with the merchants.

The boy eavesdropped too on a certain day when he was making some deals, about a certain school, about the wizard from the hero’s party and that pool of magic.

An annual examination which was able to trigger the element of water which could reside within a person. If he truly was someone from that lineage he could finally acquire the element of water, the very element which caused him so much pain and suffering.

And now he was sinking deeper into the water and cursing the new pain which was caused by the wizard’s pool, it felt like bolts of lightning running through his whole body, shocking him everywhere. Without showing any hints of his suffering in his expression he just endured quietly.

It was then when the girl felt that something was off. Something didn’t feel right at all. At the moment the boy was just enduring the pain while he unconsciously recalled the pain he once endured at his home. That pain from the past seems to change frequently, describing sometimes something completely different, something which didn’t fit with the memories of the boy at all.

The nymph wanted to help the boy. She radiated a bit of her power through the body of the boy. It was the non-combat power of the element, a soothing and healing effect. She knew that the boy wouldn’t forgive her when she’d help him cheating but at the same time she wasn’t able to watch the boy suffering and blaming the element for his pain.

He felt that pain became a bit dull thus he started to move his arms and also swam no laps. The nymph followed him.

Nymphs are creatures who never do things for free, as already mentioned the always want something from the humans if they ask them to clean the rivers, lakes or seas. The nymph which inhabits the river in front of the school wasn’t different.

She pitied him, she suffered with him and she helped him. Now she wanted to have her repayment and because the boy had no idea that she was doing things behind the scenes, she decided what she wanted without actually communicating with him. She went deeper into his mind while hiding her presence.

She was curious about the irregularity in his memories thus she went in to not only read and hear his thoughts and voice of mind but actually also able to see his visions.

◑.◑

What she witnessed was more pain. More suffering but this time there were also other things involved. Many strange, disturbing and cruel things.

The boy just suffered all on his own, praying to nothing special and hoping for a miracle which would save him somehow, it never came.

Only one single lap and then it was over, the boy wasn’t feeling any exhaustion but only determination. At the same time, he was hoping that he wouldn’t pass out when exits the wet.

She, who witnessed everything vowed, that she would stay with him. She wasn’t sure if she could become his miracle but she vowed to become the one person who would stay with him, who would take away, even if it is only a bit, his terrible loneliness, always.

The last lap ended, obviously, they were just those few moments which feel like an eternity but time doesn’t care about that. In the end, they are mere moments and nothing more.

He panted heavily but was also satisfied with himself. Although he wasn’t thinking how good his time was nor how he was still able to stand properly without kissing the floor.

Obviously, the latter was yet again just a confirmation that even if he thought many things were painful and he hated them. They couldn’t be like that at the end because he was still healthy and alive after all.

The boy sighed and slowly headed to the showers not giving a single glance to the board where the grades of each swimmer were listed, for some odd reason the teacher liked to show all grades to everyone instead of keeping them private or at least discrete.

Naturally, he didn’t give a glance because he already knew for a fact that he did badly. There were only a few swimmers left which indicated that he was one of the last ones.

Before leaving the swimming hall, he turned around for one last time and smiled. He hid it with his hands because he didn’t like to show those rare occasions to others though. He thought while his chest began to warm up slightly:

“Gotcha! I hope we’ll get along and thanks for taking care of me from now on.”

(σ≧∀≦)σ  ＜(。_。)＞

[christinaepilzauthor-blog]

St. Germanus: A Reluctant Bishop

By Kim Rendfeld

Germanus would have a great influence on Christianity in 5th century Britain, but in his early life, he did not believe God called him to the priesthood. Born around 380 in Auxerre to a noble family, Germanus was well educated in the liberal arts. He went to Rome to study law and was a brilliant lawyer. He married a high-ranking woman named Eustachia. The emperor was impressed with Germanus and eventually appoint him dux (duke to oversimplify) commanding the soldiers in the province with his hometown. Back in Auxerre, Germanus was a faithful husband and a capable administrator who acted with integrity. But he had not learned humility and prayer, and he still liked worldly things. Too much. One particular vice irritated Saint Amator, then bishop of Auxerre. Like many men of his era, Germanus loved to hunt. The problem for the bishop was how Germanus showed off his prowess. The duke hung the heads of his kills on a tree in the middle of the city, an action that strongly resembled an offering to a pagan god. I suspect Germanus had seen this ritual since he was child and might have not seen the religious contradiction. This was not the first time a pagan ritual lingered long after the population had accepted baptism. But Christianity had been mainstream for only a few decades, after the Roman emperor had accepted baptism shortly before his death in 337. Amator might have feared a Germanus's actions encouraged a false religion and endangered the souls he was trying to save. The bishop tried to persuade Germanus to stop. Germanus refused. Alban Butler's 1799 book attributes it to vanity, and Germanus likely was proud. He was high born and privileged, after all. But his first priority as duke was keeping order. He might have seen respecting a pagan ritual as a way to keep the peace. One day while Germanus was away, Amator had the tree chopped down—a practice emulated by missionaries centuries later.

This engraving by Bernhard Rode depicts St. Boniface, but you get the idea (public domain, via Wikimedia Commons)

We don't know how the populace responded, but Germanus was furious. Amator fled to Autun. There, Amator had a revelation: God wanted Germanus to be the bishop's successor. Incredibly, Amator greeted the news with joy. His faith in God's judgment must have been quite strong. Amator secretly asked the prefect, Julius, if he could tonsure Germanus and thus release the duke from his office. Julius consented. Amator returned to Auxerre. When Germanus entered the church, Amator had the doors barred gave him the clerical haircut, whether Germanus wanted it or not. Amator named Germanus a deacon and the successor to the bishopric. A dramatic story, but is it true? Maybe part of it. A hagiography written by Constantius about 30 years after Germanus's death provides a different account. Constantius makes no mention of the hunting or the tree full of trophies or the threat against Amator. Instead, the people—aristocrats, clergy, and commoners—demanded Germanus serve as their bishop. They must have been impressed with his abilities as an administrator and his moral character. Constantius describes Germanus's entry into the priesthood as "under compulsion, as a conscript." Regardless of how Germanus became a priest, he was pushed, or rather shoved, into the clergy. Remarkably, he dared not protest. He believed his forced ordination was God's will and feared opposing it. His life changed, including his relationship with his wife, Eustachia. A married man could be ordained into the priesthood. In fact, the wife's good conduct might play a role, and she was often given a title to reflect her status. However, husband and wife were supposed to live as brother and sister. Germanus and Eustachia complied (and were one of the few couples that did). My guess is that she became a bishopress. Neither Butler nor Constantius say how Eustachia or her noble family reacted to Germanus's ordination. Butler describes her as "a lady of great quality"; Constantius says her "birth, wealth, and character were all of the highest." And that's it. We might find a clue in an omission: neither author mentions children by the couple. If Germanus and Eustachia were childless, might they have taken that as a sign of God's intentions for them? It is possible Eustachia supported her husband's ordination for reasons besides faith. As a bishopress, she did not need a son for her high-ranking position to be secure.

Photo by GFreihalter (CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

For his part, Germanus gave his possessions to the poor and embraced an austere lifestyle. If we are to believe Constantius, he had one meal in the evening and he first took a mouthful of ash, then ate barley bread with flour he ground himself—the humblest of foods. He rejected oil, salt, vinegar, pulses, wheaten bread, and wine (except a diluted drink on Christmas Day and Easter). He wore a hair-shirt underneath his tunic and cloak. He had a leather strap around his neck with a box of relics (relics could be as tiny as a pebble from a saint's tomb). He slept on planks with ashes in between them and did not use a pillow. The combination of piety, nobility, and knowledge made Germanus the best spiritual warrior the Church could send to Britain in 429 to squelch the Pelagian heresy, which rejected original sin and argued for redemption through strength of will rather than divine grace. (If we are to believe Nennius's 9th century account, Germanus also played a key role in Vortigern's downfall, but Nennius seems to be the type to not let facts get in the way of his story.) To the Church, the Pelagian heresy was more dangerous than paganism. It was a threat from within, and if left unchecked, might splinter the institution into factions. Church officials could not tolerate heresy, and they knew they were in for a tough fight. We'll have more on that battle next month. Sources "The Life of Saint Germanus of Auxerre," by Constantius of Lyon, translated by F.R. Hoare, Soldiers of Christ: Saints and Saints' Lives from Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages, by Thomas F.X. Noble, Thomas Head The Lives of the Primitive Fathers, Martyrs, and Other Principal Saints: Compiled from Original Monuments and Other Authentic Records, Volume 7, Alban Butler The Text of 'Nennius': Historia Brittonum, chapters 31-49, 66, Vortigern Studies "St. Germain,"by Andrew MacErlean, The Catholic Encyclopedia, Vol. 6 "Germanus" ~~~~~~~~~~ Kim Rendfeld's work in progress—"Betrothed to the Red Dragon," a short story about Guinevere's decision to marry Arthur—is set in early medieval Britain. If you'd like to get an email when it's published, email Kim at kim [at] kimrendfeld [dot] com. If you want read what Kim has already written, check out her two novels set in 8th century Europe. Kim's first novel, The Cross and the Dragon, in which a Frankish noblewoman must contend with a jilted suitor and the fear of losing her husband, is available at Amazon, Kobo, iTunes, Barnes & Noble, Smashwords, CreateSpace, and other vendors.You can order The Ashes of Heaven's Pillar, about a Saxon peasant who will fight for her children after losing everything else, at Amazon, Kobo, Barnes & Noble, and iTunes.

Connect with Kim at on her website kimrendfeld.com, her blog, Outtakes of a Historical Novelist at kimrendfeld.wordpress.com, on Facebook at facebook.com/authorkimrendfeld, or follow her on Twitter at @kimrendfeld.

Hat Tip To: English Historical Fiction Authors