#serpent clergy

[defiledtomb]

The last sneakpeek before friday, or launch day, as it has become known as in this house! I'm scared. 💀 But, it was very fun to add some lore details to this particular chapter today. (Not pictured: me dumping a whole world worth of guilt onto the hunters already heavy shoulders. I promise it will get better! ... Unless?)

[theoxenfree]

OF FLESH SIN

vampire priest x reader | 2.6k | 18+

you're the child of a monastery groundskeeper and come to find out that one of the senior clergy, father marius, was brutally maimed in his chambers overnight. you're approached by the monastery's new recruit: father shaw; who claims he had witnessed the scene of the crime and invites you to his chambers to tell the tale.

warnings; dark content bc of descriptions of gore and violence towards the end, obsessive behaviors, theological themes, probs inaccurate representation of monastery life lmao, outdated + deragatory mention of psychiatric care to fit the narrative, very brief mention of animal death, classism (mc getting shit on for being poor and coming from an "uneducated" family), kinda honestly cheesy if you think about it, roughly proofread, vampires are monsters y'all—that's the only way I write them

shouldn't have to say it, but: none of this is indicative of my personal viewpoints. it's just fiction, folks.

second prompt fulfilled for my lil' october writing project! this won the second poll! please reblog + leave feedback to be kind and help a sister out 🥹💕

Father Marius died in quite some awful way last night, as reported to you by the nuns hanging fresh washed garments on the clothesline in the waning, purpling daylight.

“A look of horror! Utter terror! So frightened that his jaw had become dislocated in forever a scream,” shivered one young nun, Lucy; recently a convert from the slums. “I, well, I didn't see it myself. Neither did the rest of us, actually. They say it was that new Father Shaw who found him at dawn.”

You had been raking gravel out of the yard, tiny stones kicked off of the path into the kempt lawn by prancing horses and wagon wheels, when Lucy and the other nun, Esme, had caught your attention with their hard, dense gossip. They regarded your approach with less caution than they would have had with their other sisters, as gossip was deemed inappropriate, a violation, a flickering serpent’s tongue carrying covert temptations leading to luscious sins and debauchery.

They saw you—poor, morose, the groundskeeper's only child and reminder of loveless trysts—and thought nothing of snaking you into their prattle. You were not the sort to divulge anyone's secrets without gain, without reward, and you knew that the nuns kept nothing to their names once they took their vows and donned their habits.

“Father Shaw,” you continued the discussion with some intrigue, mostly from the fact that he was very new, very young, and modestly handsome, “why was he awake so early? Why was he in Father Marius’ chambers? Curious to me.”

Neither of them gave much caution to your questions, shrugging as if to dismiss your ambivalence and accusatory tone. You were bold in the way that the faithless and lost always tended to be: asking senseless things, always concerned with the wrongdoings of others, always suspicious, always inquiring—forever inquiring.

“Oh, my, you're so defensive,” Esme fanned a yellow bedspread out with an oncoming breeze, catching the wind beneath the fabric so it billowed and rippled midair. “If that’s how you're going to be, then: why does your father stumble around the yard at night with a lantern, swinging around a pistol like a madman? Won't he hurt someone?”

Because he's a godless, superstitious drunk. Perhaps, even, a bit disturbed in his mind, but you couldn't bear to think that way, that he might be the type to need his head locked in a metal cage, gagged, arms bound, and padlocked in some damp, distant corner of an asylum.

“He's a good man,” you relented, taking your hands from the top of the smoothed out, worn handle of the rake and resumed your task. The gravel made an awful, grinding sound as the teeth of the rake collected pieces of stone and led it back to the rest. “He's served this monastery well. I don't mean offense about Father Shaw, I'm simply curious about what transpired is all.”

“No offense taken,” came a voice from behind, startling both the twittering nuns and yourself at the same time. They saw it to be Father Shaw standing there, hands cuffed behind his back with a particularly demure disposition, hiked their skirts and whisked themselves away back inside. “Ah, am I really such a frightful figure? I couldn't really find an opening during your conversation to invite myself in. I apologize.”

You were of a similar fretful nature, quickening your clawing and the reach of the rake. “Nay, Father. I think it's simply because you're a strange man to them still. A handsome face, a warm voice, mysterious; give them time, they'll come around.”

“Have you?” Father Shaw asked, taking measured strides in a half-circle around to your front. He concentrated on where the teeth of your instrument struck next, tips temporarily wedged into the soft dirt before being ripped up with chunks of earth and gray gravel. “It wouldn't do for me if you… were still ill at ease with me as well. I consider you my one, true friend in this place.”

Your father held a certain destestation towards Father Shaw that you'd never witnessed before, saying nothing else than that something was terribly wrong with him and not to place yourself in a position to be alone with him. This you attributed to his unsoundness, but it was always the sudden flicker a sharp breath against candlelight—a jarring shift in his demeanor when he spoke about the Father, neurotic and prone to throwing things about the cottage interior, that caused you to pay some mind to what he told you.

“And, you're a great friend of mine as well,” you hoped you sounded coherent and paced your words evenly enough. “I'm sorry if you thought I was accusing you of something, sir. I really meant nothing to it.”

Father Shaw’s lips sprawled tight and pale into a fond smile, never showing his teeth, though the imprint of them seemed massive and the skin of his lips startlingly thin across them. “I know. You have nothing to fear. My feelings were not affected. If you'd like, come to my chambers later, we may pray together first, and I'll tell you everything you wish to know about what I saw to sate your curiosity.”

“That seems improper, sir.” You said.

“How so?”

“Inviting someone to your chambers at night seems an unbecoming venture for a pious man of status, such as yourself,” you continued, now standing upright beside your rake, “if any of the sisters were to witness it, worse another priest, aren't you afraid you'd be horribly chastised? Even worse, excommunicated altogether?”

Although Father Shaw’s dark eyes reflected no light, holding such demanding depth to them that it was hard to keep your bearings whenever you realized you'd been staring, his entire face was alight in amusement.

“Wherever did you learn to speak like that?” he asked candidly, still glowing despite his pallor. “Forgive me when I say, but your father is not an educated man. I mean no offense, please don't look at me in such a way. You are so well spoken, I only wish to know more about you.”

“I've lived here my entire life,” you told him. “The nuns taught me how to read.”

He looked impressed. “You can read?”

“I can!” From a near distance, you could make out your father’s haddard form, bent sideways on a walking cane and limping towards the pair of you. You looked up at the priest’s smooth face. “It'd be best for you to leave before my father can speak to you. He isn't the kindest soul after a long day.

Father Shaw didn't react with any semblance of worry, but agreed that there were other things needing to be done and began away. Just as he passed you on his way towards the monastery, he let his hand rest atop of your shoulder and leaned you towards him to whisper in your ear: “come to me tonight. I'll be waiting for you.”

There was something so luxurious and cooling about his voice; fine silks sitting in the shade during autumn gliding across your bare skin, wrapping your neck, your chest, your nether parts. His voice was a fine, chilly mist after the first rains in spring which felt refreshing and new after a glacial winter, yet still had capacity to soak you to the bone. It was a nighttime breeze caressing your cheek, sweeping through the hairs of your scalp, making your skin burst all over with bumps.

“I don't like the way he looks at you,” said your father with a mouthful of porridge you'd seasoned with herbs of the season. It was wonderfully fragrant and warm during nights that were still a bit too uncomfortable to sip anything cold. “He looks at you like you're a slab of meat! Some prize after a hunt. I don't like him, love. Not one bit. You'd do well to stay to mind yourself and do your chores and nothing else, y’hear?”

After dinner, you cleaned up, swept the floors with hard bristles, and snuffed all the lights except for the fireplace where your father sat in his old chair, fiddling with his favorite pistol.

“It's time for bed, old man.” You watched him fit a couple of small bullets into the loading chamber. They glinted against the orange flames. “Goodness. What have you gotten this time? Something new?”

“Aye!” he grinned, nearly toothless and in a sickly sort of way. “Went to market the other day while the nuns bullied you and picked out some fine bullets from the silversmith,” he cracked the two halves of the pistol shut. “Better to be prepared.”

You waited until sometime later once he was finally asleep, possibly after midnight, before leaving the humble cottage sitting on the fringes of the massive monastery yard and rushing across the grounds to get inside.

Once, they'd kept a guard dog on the property, one of those meaner breeds that were used for gambling, but the poor thing wound up shot dead in the middle of the night by a traveling friar who'd come to seek refuge at the monastery. The sisters, and yourself, were horribly distraught by the entire ordeal and all vetoed the consideration of bringing another dog here.

Since then, it was no task for you (or anyone else) to get inside the building and shuffle along the shadows through the corridors. At night, the place stirred with patient insects, feral rodents large and small in the pantry, and hungry owls tamely whining from the rafters when something startled them away from their hunt of vermin.

Your feet were a light sound on the masonry below, padded by thin leather soles which alerted you to your enthusiasm as the thwap thwap thwap became louder, aggressive as you closed in on a wall and turned down another hallway for a sturdy wood door at the end of it.

As your knuckles rapped, hoping the sound wouldn't disturb the animals’ nighttime caroling, a swift darkness moved across the floor from behind the door, briefly blocking out the soft light seeping out from underneath.

The next moment, you were being pulled inside and sat at a small table tucked to the side of Father Shaw’s rather generous room. It was a simple space, sparsely furnished for the barest of comforts—only for what was needed to live—but what had been made for him was of exquisite craftsmanship, some made of teakwood, which Shaw assured you was remarkably durable and highly resistant to rotting.

“It's wonderful for boats,” he said, pouring a light amber colored brew from a metal kettle he'd heated a short while ago. “It’s good for all elements, really. Exceptional longevity. I've heard it has become a popular option in the city for burying the deceased.”

“Will Father Marius be buried in a teakwood coffin, then?” you asked, sipping politely from the cup even though you had no appetite for it. You already felt ill at ease enough having disobeyed your father by sneaking into a priest's personal chambers at night. The things the sisters would say about you—

“He will be entombed underneath the monastery with the rest who have served here and passed. I believe that is all stone down there, my dear.” Father Shaw smiled tepidly, kettle aside, no tea of his own. “But, I know that your curiosity led you here to me with questions, yes? About the state I found Father Marius in, yes?”

You tried to disguise your intrigue by drinking more of the tea, of whatever it was he had given you, and listened to the sounds of your fingertips sticking to the porcelain from sweat and steam.

“If you wouldn't mind sharing…”

“I wouldn't!” he leaned on his arms on the table, closer towards you as though with a secret. “As I've said, you are truly the only soul here who I can confide in. You are not a sheep. And you do not fear sin as the rest do. So, you can ask me anything and I'll tell you everything.”

“Tell me about Father Marius, then.”

Father Shaw reached across the table for one of your hands; his far larger, fingers much longer and colder than your own and held it as he recounted the event.

“Dreadful sight, it was. It was, oh, perhaps sometime after three o'clock when I heard a massive racket. A struggle. When I knocked, all of the noise subsided at once and there was complete stillness. Silence, my dear, silence so deep, dark, and damning that I knew something awful had happened.

“I didn't knock again, I was too afraid to! But, Father Marius was getting on in age, so I couldn't just stand by, either. I kicked the door in—just once was all it took—and I rushed inside to see the room was a complete mess. A fight had clearly taken place, and the walls—oh, the walls—”

His remorse was carefully placed, stiff, and uncertain and he couldn't be seen in the vastness of his black gaze. You were moved by the vulnerability he was trying to show you, going as far to abandon your drink to place your warm hand on top of his.

“The walls, my dear, were a mess of blood. Something vicious and awful had happened in that room. But, then, I found Father Marius lying there on the ground next to a broken window. I think he'd tried to throw himself through it. His face was shredded to pieces, his eyes gouged. When I got closer, I noticed that his tongue had been severed from his head!”

You were holding Father Shaw’s hands in a bloodless grip, face ashen, teeth chattering behind your lips. “What on earth! That is not only horror, but cruelty!”

“Oh, my love, it gets worse!” Father Shaw held you mesmerized in his gaze, the conviction and anguish with which he told his story. “Closer still, Father Marius’ face was locked in one of pure terror, I've—I’ve never seen a human react in quite a way such as that before, to fear. The man unhinged his own jaw in a hideous scream, and it seemed to me he was skeletal. By that, it's like he was, well, quite dry.

“So, I crouched down so much lower and inspected him all over. Do you want to know what I found?”

“Yes.” You spoke breathlessly.

Father Shaw had moved out of his seat and was on one knee in front of you, both of his frigid hands on your face to smooth across your cheeks, pushing away pieces of hair obscuring some part of you he'd wanted to see.

“My love, I saw marks in his neck. Two, beautifully, wonderfully symmetrical marks that were far too clean to be of any animal that we know of. The bite was clean, it was patient and cunning. And the fangs that had sunk into his tender flesh had drained him of blood, of the very essence that kept his heart beating until the very last.”

“Sir—” your stomach plummeted, falling forever, when he smiled, teeth longer than any humans should be shown through to you. He wouldn't let you go when you went to move out of his hands, away from him. “Father Shaw, please—”

“I wish you could have seen it, my love. It was a breathtaking sight and I long for someone else to admire the beauty of my work alongside me.”

It was unthinkable that a vampire could walk on these holy grounds and in the bright of day, yet Father Shaw had for countless days. Evil held you sweetly by the cheek and in your hair, kissed you with a corpse’s cold lips, and laved the skin of your skin with a long, serpentine tongue.

“O’, my merciful lord…”

Father Shaw bent your head back with a fistful of hair and spoke from your throat:

“There is no God, only me. Come into the endless night with me, my love.”

[the-curator1]

Even in Hades | Copia x Witch!Fem!Reader - Chapter 1

Author's note: English is not my first language, so if you notice any mistakes, please don't hesitate to point them out to me.

Summary: Copia is gone. But he is not meant to remain in the realm of the dead. The Clergy asks you to bring him back to life as part of their grand plan for the future. You think your mission is over, but you find yourself dealing with a pope haunted by trauma, clinging to you like a lifeline. You can't leave him behind, can you? And after all, maybe you need someone to help you fight your own demons too. This whole situation leaves you with a haunting question: Who is the savior and who is the saved?

Tags and TW for the story: necromancy, heavy angst, mention of blood rituals, witchcraft, eventual romance, smut, fluff, the reader is a witch, betrayal, grief, manipulation, dealing with trauma, religious trauma

Chapter Summary: You bring back Papa Emeritus IV to the light.

Chapter 1: Moth to a Flame

You were kneeling on the cold floor, your face turned toward the ceiling of the chilling crypt like a wolf howling at the moon. Your hands pressed against the stone floor bore the stains of blood you had drawn from your own veins. The flickering flames of the black candles cast an eerie glow upon the floor, enveloping your face in their mysterious light.

“You need to bring him back.”

“If you wanted him to live, maybe you should not have killed him in the first place!”

The pain clawed its way through your body, a relentless torment that threatened to consume you from within. It twisted and writhed like a serpent, coiling around your insides with a merciless grip, gnawing at your insides like a greedy monster. It started slow, but you knew it was a matter of minutes until you felt like the pain was tearing your body and your soul apart.

“Watch your tongue, girl. You don’t know anything. He needs to come back. That’s part of the plan.”

You turned your head toward the cold floor again. Laying there among the candles and the ritualistic tools was the body of Papa Emeritus IV. You looked at him for a moment as the pain in your chest grew and grew. His body was naked apart from a white sheet you carefully placed upon his lower body when you prepared him. Your eyes fell upon the large stitched wound in his chest once again.

Did he ever know they were going to…

No time for thinking about that again.

“I’ll do it, but I’ll need to be alone.”

“Fair enough. Just don’t disappoint us.”

Ignoring the gnawing ache in your gut, you placed your bloodied shaky hands on his bare torso. His skin was cold as ice. Your fingers brushed at the 666 tattoo on his chest.

He needs to come back. You can't fail.

Your mouth fell open, and your lips started moving on their own accord. You began to chant an ancient melody. Your voice echoed through the chamber in a language long forgotten by mortal tongues. You made all the efforts in the world to keep your voice steady, fighting to drown out the rising tide of nausea that threatened to overwhelm you. The flames of the candles around you danced wildly, casting shifting shadows upon the walls as if they, too, sensed the gravity of the moment.

“It must be done tonight. Or he will be gone forever.”

The pain was more awful than ever. You felt your eyes rolling back in your head. You wanted to scream. To tear your hair out.

Hear me, Papa… Come to the light. you silently implored, your thoughts a fervent prayer echoing through the depths of your mind.

I’m not sure I can take it any longer…

In this liminal space between life and death, not quite in hell, not quite in the living realm, Copia lingered, suspended in the darkness that enveloped him like a heavy, dark cloak. Time seemed to lose all meaning in this strange realm, where the echoes of his past deeds reverberated in the silence, haunting him with their weight.

He had died only days ago, yet it felt like an eternity had passed since he last drew breath. Memories flickered through his mind like fragmented shards of glass, painful reminders of the life he had lived and the choices he had made.

Memories of his last moments too.

Their knives.

“Swiss, what are you…?”

The thundering pain in his body.

Terror.

Confusion.

"We're sorry Papa..."

Pain.

The feeling of hot blood running on his skin.

The scream of the audience.

PAIN.

And then nothing. Nothing but despair and loneliness.

As he reflected on the terror of his last moments, Copia saw it. It danced like a solitary star in the blackened void, casting its radiant glow upon the darkness.

A candle?

A gentle warmth blossomed within Copia’s chest. Without hesitation, he gravitated toward the light. As he drew near, a voice reached him, a soft murmur like a gentle stream in the woods.

“Come, Papa, come to the light…”

Hope bloomed in Copia’s chest. Someone was there. Someone was there for him.

With each passing moment, the light grew brighter and the voice grew more distinct. Eventually, Copia emerged from the shadows. There, bathed in the candle's warm glow, stood a woman. A soft smile spread upon her sweet face when she saw him. She looked calm and serene.

Slowly, as if not to scare him, she held her hand out to him.

He reached out almost immediately, his fingers trembling as they brushed against hers. It was as if a current passed between them, a surge of energy that pulsed with a life of its own. Suddenly, the darkness around them seemed to shift and warp, swirling like a tempest as reality itself began to unravel. Like the parting of the Red Sea, the shroud of darkness opened in a blinding flash of light. Copia felt himself being pulled back forcefully—back to the realm of the living.

The transition was jarring, his senses assaulted by a cacophony of sounds as he emerged from the depths. He gasped for air, his chest heaving with effort as he struggled to make sense of his surroundings. Copia opened his eyes.

Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the bright darkness of the crypt he was in. The stone walls loomed large around him, their rough-hewn surfaces casting long shadows that danced in the flickering candlelight. Despite the initial assault of noise and confusion, he found the crypt surprisingly quiet. The only sounds that reached his ears were the rustle of his breathing and the faint crackling of the candles.

He found himself lying on a cold, stone floor, the chill seeping into his bones. But then, despite the frigid surroundings, he felt a sense of warmth emanating from the soft hands resting upon his chest.

Then he heard it: the voice that guided him toward the light. Soft, like a melody despite the weariness that emanated from it.

“Welcome back...Papa."

[calchexxis]

Dark Star is on sale!

The sequel to my debut novel is on sale now!

Dark Star synopsis

After the events of the Heights Exclusion, Wally, Vess, and the Dispersers of the Sixth Precinct of Colvus find themselves mired in a city torn by civil strife, all while they grieve their own losses. The civilian deaths in the housing projects targeted by the Cult of the Dark Star have left the Colvian people angry, wounded, and lacking faith in the leadership of the Water Serpent Clergy, who have ruled the city for so many years.

In the midst of that strife, Wally must find a way to summon Vess once more without the use of the spirit proxy, Jemma Corsivo discovers a kindred spirit where she least expected it, and a new threat wearing a familiar face rises in the heart of the city.

[phxntxm-uszr]

Darkness at the Heart of My Love – ImperaHil Angst Fic

TW/Tags: Angst – Hurt/Comfort – Dysfunctional Family Dynamics – Near Death

Word Count: 1833k

Beneath the walls of the clergy, the serene wave of silence was disturbed by the sound of the doors swinging open.

Whoosh!

“Hang in there, Cardi!” Imperator fought back her tears as the ghouls carried the Cardinal to the infirmary.

Copia was losing too much blood, too much breath, all because of her.

Saltarine pulled Imperator to the side forcefully. She tried to thrash away from the brother’s grasp.

“Saltarine let me go! I have to see him!” Imperator cried out, her tears now spilling down her cheeks.

“Keep your shit together, Elizabeth! You knew this was bound to happen!” Saltarine pinned her hands and contained her from thrashing.

It had been finally time to execute the current Papa. It had been tradition during each one – from Primo, to Secondo, to Terzo, her lover Nihil; now it all came to this… her son, their son. A shot to the heart by a sphere, but the executioner missed because Copia was dancing around while it happened. Now he was losing too much blood and breath at the same time, all because of her.

Suddenly she felt another set of arms around her, this time welcoming, more familiar. 

It was Nihil… or at least his ghost. He managed to shove her away from Saltarine’s grasp. She clung onto him for dear support. On a regular day, she would’ve ignored his attempts to hug her; but now, she realized she needed it. Especially since this was their son, even if Nihil didn’t particularly know.

“Shh, it’s okay. I got you, cara.” Nihil led Imperator to sit down by the steps. Her stubbornness refused to look at him.

Nihil sensed the self-loathing she was feeling. He decided to take her hands from covering her face.

“Nihil…” Elizabeth relented.

“Cara, do not waste your beauty by hiding that beautiful face of yours.” He said, taking both hands. 

He chuckled as he saw some of her eyeliner makeup coming down. He wiped it off using his sleeves. Since he wasn’t the Papa anymore, he was wearing a different kind of robe.

Imperator scoffed at his corniness.

“Now’s not the time for flirting, I’m afraid.” she said in her usual tone, only this time the emotions were laced with a thick heaviness due to her crying.

He gazed at her, still holding her hand. 

“Nihil…” he cut her off before she even finished the phrase.

“No way in hell, Elizabeth. I am staying here with you. I cannot bear seeing you cry, you know this.” He brushed her cheek softly, she pulled away feeling timid and trying to keep her heart at bay.

He smiled softly at the realization and held her close. The nun didn’t pull away this time.

There was silence aching to be broken by the next hour. He sighed and decided he wouldn’t allow her to ignore him.

“Elizabeth… cara?” He turned her cheek so she could face him “Why so blue?”

She rolled her eyes “You know why.”

His suspicions were correct. “The Cardinal.”

Elizabeth bit her inside cheek and nodded. She sensed the tinge of hurt and jealousy his way. Of course he would take it differently.

“What’s so special about this Cardinal being the Papa? This is the first time I’ve seen you break during a killing before.” He pointed out.

She knew that he was bound to know the truth one way or another. It crept up into her chest willingly, like a serpent slithering as it was lured by the melody of the charmer. Before she could even respond, the doors to the infirmary swung open.

Elizabeth gasped, standing upright. The ghouls looked at her.

“Sister, I think now would not be a good time to see Cardi-” Phantom began to say, but before anybody could notice she ran towards his room, even ignoring the nurse attending on the front.

‘I have to see my son… I need to see him… !’ Was the only thing that kept repeating in her mind as she ran the cold pristine halls.

She found him, laying on the bed. There were several wires connected to his chest, and a stray IV that was perched up on a lone iron pole. 

Elizabeth tried to hold the emotions all together as she sat by Copia’s side. She held his hand, it wasn’t warm but it wasn’t cold either. How could she have done this to her own son in the first place?

‘Fuck you, Saltarine.’ she thought silently, bitterly.

She couldn’t help but admire his helpless form. All the self-loathing she felt grew heavier, a burden resting on her chest. She ran a hand on the Cardinal’s salt and pepper locks. He really looked like his father.

“I’m sorry, Copia. I’m sorry.” she kissed his forehead.

Unexpectedly, the ghouls came inside the room once more. Imperator flinched at the sudden appearance as Phantom took the lead.

“Sister,” Phantom started but was once more cut off.

“Please, let me stay with him.” the desperation behind her voice couldn’t be more evident.

The ghoul was surprised, this was the first time he has ever heard the nun’s voice break. As much as Phantom wanted to let her stay, he knew Copia wouldn’t want that.

“Sister, please.” Swiss spoke this time “I do not think, Papa would like you here. Especially since…”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” Everyone looked to the doorframe, it was Nihil “If the Sister wants to be here, then let her be.”

He floated towards his lover’s side, putting a hand on her shoulder. 

Elizabeth looked at Nihil with a thankful, yet vulnerable expression. Nihil leaned down to kiss her forehead.

“But-” Swiss started, but sighed “Okay, whatever.”

Phantom and Swiss stayed to watch over Copia and to keep a close eye on Imperator and Nihil. For the first time in a span of hours, Copia’s hand twitched.

“Copia?” Elizabeth looked at Copia, squeezing his hand.

He stirred slightly, mumbling helplessly.

“Madre… Mi Madre…” he whimpered softly as his eyebrows were knit together.

“I’m here.” Elizabeth said.

Everybody in the room turned to the Sister in confusion.

Copia’s eyes fluttered open, his vision slightly blurry over the drugs injected to him. He blinked once, twice, before turning his head over from the ceiling to the foot of the bed. He saw the two ghouls come to approach him.

“There, there. Careful Cardi.” Phantom chuckled slightly, relieved to see his Papa awake. He helped him sit up slightly, wrapping his arms around Copia for support as he sat upright.

“Thank you, Phantom.” Copia chuckled, groaning slightly as he felt the pain of his stitches.

Suddenly his eyes landed on the other two figures by his left. His smile disappeared, his gaze turning hard and cold.

“Sister.” Copia said in an unsure, but cold tone.

“Copia…” she leaned in to hug her son, but he stopped her.

“Why are you here? Oh wait, are you here to kill me again?” He spat out sharply “You here to trick me into doing another fun show, then a bounty will come shoot me again? Is there poison in this IV?”

“Copia, let me explain-”

“No! There’s nothing to explain, Imperator. You betrayed me.” his tone shifted from cold, to one of hurt.

All the self-loathing intensified for Imperator.

“Enough, boy. That is no way to respect a woman.” Nihil tried to defend Sister, but Copia ignored him.

“You told me I would become one of the greatest, like… like him” he pointed to Nihil. “I followed each and every one of your orders, and improved all the mistakes of the others. I even saw you as someone more than my master. You’re just like the others.”

“Don’t be naive, boy. You knew that all Papa’s before you had to die. It’s part of the job.” Nihil cut in

“Oh don’t get me started with you, old man! You never believed in me in the first place because you were too selfish to build your reputation. Did you ever think that maybe you’re one of my greatest inspirations? To add fuel to the fire, you’re a bad father!”

“Listen you little shit-” Nihil tried to grab Copia by the arm, but the ghouls stopped him.

The argument just got heated each second and the ghouls, and Sister couldn’t help but just stand there and watch everything unfold. “You know that I’m right. From Primo, to Secondo, to Terzo – you let them die in her hands! In your hands. And for what? Just so you could rule again?” The monitor beeped faster as he got more agitated with each word.

Nihil was in disbelief. He couldn’t think of a single retort because he knew that what Copia was saying was true. He was a monster, a bad father.

“I looked up to you, tried not to be discouraged as you brought me down thinking I wasn’t too good enough to fill in your shoes as Papa. I may not be in the bloodline, but at least I kept your legacy alive.” Copia confessed.

“But you are…” Imperator’s voice cut through the tension.

Every set of eyes landed on her.

“Cara? What do you mean by that?” Nihil shoved the ghoul’s hands and walked towards her.

The truth has to be set free. She needed to tell them.

She inhaled a sharp breath as tears formed her eyes. Elizabeth moved to be in between the two men.

“Copia, you are from Nihil’s blood.” She took his hand into her shaky one.

Copia’s expression shifted, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I am?” 

“He is?” Nihil said

“You are,” Elizabeth exhaled before looking at Nihil.

The ghost searched his lover’s eyes “Elizabeth, how…”

“He was born out of our bond, Nihil.” She could feel her cheeks getting wet again. Nihil was in disbelief.

“He is my son…?” Nihil’s eyes went from Copia to Elizabeth.

She couldn’t help but let out a small smile 

“Our son.” She then turned to Copia.

“For years, I only did what I had to do to protect you. Killing you was the last thing I wanted to do to you, my son. I have loved you, as a mother always had; yet, I have failed you.” Elizabeth sobbed now.

Copia was speechless, shedding tears of his own.

“Mi mamma?” Copia’s heart monitor was increasing in height.

“Yes, I am your mother, Copia.” She hugged him “Mom’s here”

She felt him go into shock.

“Cardi? No.. no please not this time.” Her maternal instincts kicked in.

There were sets of clergy nurses coming from the door again. Phantom groaned and softly pulled Sister away.

“I told you, he was not ready to see either of you.” Phantom said as he led Imperator outside “Just stay there, and do not do anything.”

“But, my son-” The doors slammed shut as she was kicked out.

From the corner of her eye, she felt Nihil’s burning gaze.

“Nihil…” when she turned, he disappeared.

Once more, she was alone, like she always has been.

Part 2?

[four-loose-screws]

FE2 Novelization Translation - Chapter 2 Part 3

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations

If you are interested in donating to support my work, please check out my Ko-fi here. Thank you!

———————————

Chapter 2 - Mila’s Restoration Army

Part 3 - The Necrodragon's Trial

"Necrodragon Shrine" was just a name, or so Celica thought. The land of Zofia was under Mila's divine protection. Meaning it should have been unthinkable that one of Duma's guardian beasts could step foot in this country. 

However, that was all her wishful thinking. As Saber maneuvered the ship through the strait, still locked up in the helm room with Genny as his hostage; the waves were gradually becoming so high and violent that it felt as if the calm waters before now were all a lie, and dark clouds even moved in and covered the skies. Yet the ship moved straight ahead as if it was being pulled forward. 

Celica and the others all stood at the bow of the ship to confirm the path before them. They saw a small but tall black island, which appeared to be only the top of a steep mountain peeking out from the sea.

The island, shaped like the horn of a unicorn, was at the very center of the high waves and dark clouds. It was as if the island pierced through the skies and opened a hole from which the dark clouds and storm poured forth.

The ship reached land, and when Saber emerged from the helm room with Genny, hands tied behind her back, everyone else had no choice but to follow him. There was no flat land on the island for him to land the boat on. His only option was a steep cliff that rubbed against the side of the ship, which led to a single cave at the exact height of the deck.

They did as Saber ordered, and crossed the deck towards the cave, then gingerly followed each other one after the other across the rickety bridge leading to the cave, jostled by the violent seas. Celica took the lead, followed by Valbar holding his lance out at his hip, then Leo, Kamui, Boey, and Mae. Last was Genny and Saber, holding his knife against her back.

Then, Celica saw it. It appeared all too suddenly. It blocked her path, as if to say, 'Your fear is not caused by the power I will exert over you. Just standing here before you is enough to send you into pure terror.'

'It' was a massive necrodragon. Its body was like that of a lizard, its wings a bat, its tail a poisonous serpent, and its head a dragon. The rock wall of the mountain had been smashed in a way that allowed its body to fit perfectly inside the cave, meaning that this cave was its birthplace. The sacred light that radiated from within it was as bright as a burning fire.

A necrodragon was here. In Zofia. When she realized exactly what that meant, Celica was petrified in horror. Earth Mother Mila had lost all power over Zofia. And its presence also meant that Duma, the violent god of war, had to be the one who stole it from her. 

The first lesson drilled into the heads of the clergy was that of the Divine Accord between Mila and Duma. Until now, it has been as essential to their world as the air they breathed.

'This means that the Divine Accord is no more. Duma has broken it.'

Celica thought. That was the one certain truth at this moment. Yet knowing the truth did not mean she knew what would come of it. What would become of a world where the Divine Accord was broken? Not being able to guess made her feel pure terror.

'We must restore Mila to her rightful place, and reinstate the Divine Accord!' Her determination to go to the Mila Shrine was greater than ever, as if she had dropped an anchor in the seas of her heart.

"You go to the rear, Celica. Assume white swan formation!" Valbar shouted before the necrodragon's might.

Valbar was the vanguard, with Leo nocking an arrow behind him, and Kamui standing at a slight diagonal behind them, ready to support either the front or rear lines. The slightly curved line they created looked like the soft neck of a white swan. Boey and Mae stood next to each other, making up the wings, and protecting Celica in the back.

Now was not the time for them to feel threatened by Saber and make their moves based on that. Their current reality was nowhere near that soft. 

The fierce gust of wind the necrodragon blew in their direction was so great that it made even the fully armored Valbar shake.

He thrust his iron lance, twice as long as he was tall, into the wind, but it did not cause the necrodragon to flinch as it bared its fangs at him, fangs that bit through even his steel armor.

The beast flicked Valbar's body backwards, and he crashed to the ground. Genny tried to run up and heal him, but Saber strengthened his grip around the rope he was keeping her tied up with, preventing her from doing so.

Leo shot his nocked steel arrow. The arrow flew in vain past the necrodragon's neck, and smashed the rock behind it to pieces. The necrodragon immediately turned in the direction of the bow and stretched out its tail, which it swayed to unleash an attack in front of Leo.

Leo was knocked back and rolled across the ground until he stopped at Saber's feet. Genny tried to bend down to assess his wounds, but Saber would not allow even that.

"Thunder! Cut down my enemy!" Boey and Mae both cast thunder spells at the same time. 

Two bolts of lightning came crashing down from the heavens, through a hole that formed in the cave ceiling, scattering the light surrounding the necrodragon everywhere.

Amid the light and stormy winds, only one person stood, swaying with it.

It was Kamui. With both Valbar and Leo injured, it was clear to him what he must do.

Prepared for battle, Kamui shouted, "Saber, can you hear me?!"

Even in the great gusts of wind around them, Saber heard Kamui's voice loud and clear.

"I don't care if you can hear me or not. But I can't die until I say just one thing!" Kamui readied his sword at his torso, and the two ends of the fabric wrapped around his neck fluttered straight sideways in the wind. He always had it wrapped around his neck, anticipating that his arms may be injured. It was a sad custom among mercenaries. "I was no great mercenary. I just did what was my duty, and I have no memory of ever losing to anyone. I entrusted my life to Valbar. The money he paid me was enough to pay for my funeral. I can die in peace any time."

Kamui judged the distance between him and the necrodragon, then slowly stepped his worn out combat boots forward, one after the other.

It was only for a brief moment, but the memory of their fight against Darth's men, standing back to back, flashed through Saber's mind. He remembered Kamui's behavior then. 

"The odds are not in our favor!" He'd said.

"You got that right!" Kamui answered.

The memory made Saber feel that he'd found someone just like him.

"But us mercenaries don't have to act just out of our sense of duty! The deeper our sense of duty, the stronger our human emotions are. Saber! I can't truly say that I don't understand at all how you feel. I just can't say that I understand all too well, either. But I'm going to defeat this monster for you! I don't know where the Blessed Sword is, but you can search its corpse and find it."

The necrodragon twisted its long neck and looked down at Kamui. "How dare you laugh at me, monster!" He grumbled. "Saber! It is the one wish of all mercenaries that Rudolf would bow before them! You be that mercenary, or else I'll come back and haunt your ass!"

Those were Kamui's last words before it happened all too quickly. He swung his sword, and headwind to the great gusts of wind, he jumped into its chest. His body disappeared in the raging light emanating from the dragon.

"Kamui!"

Everyone heard a howl so loud it echoed through the shrine, even over the howling of the storm. Celica, Boey, and Mae all turned to see that it was Saber.

It was then that Saber realized it. Kamui was a true Mercenary. He was a true unit that faced the fate decided for him when he was born, and tried his hardest to fulfill that role.

His contracts were an afterthought. Dying for another was what it truly meant to be a Mercenary. It was the reason why Mercenaries were so proud of their freedom.

And what about the person Kamui sacrificed his own life for in the very end?

"Why would you do this for the likes of me?!" Saber released his grip on Genny and leapt forward. 

The necrodragon spit Kamui's corpse out at his feet.

Saber screamed so hard the blood flowing around his feet may have very well come from his own throat. "I killed Kamui! I killed my only friend with my own hands!"

His chest felt like it was about to burst with feelings that would never again be reciprocated, and he lost all his strength in his sword hand.

"You beast!" Saber shouted and challenged the necrodragon, already without even a chance at victory. He wished only for death.

The dragon flapped its wings, and Saber's body danced around in the wind. Then suddenly, the dragon became quiet, as if time inside the shrine had stopped completely.

A miraculous scene began to unfold. A red light like that of a newly ignited fire floated downwards, as if it were chasing after Saber.

This was not from the light the necrodragon emitted. Perhaps it was the light of Saber's soul as it exited his body? Or maybe a sign of Saber's divine punishment for his wicked plot?

It was neither. The red light lightly grazed Saber's body as it slammed to the ground, then flew past him, before finally moving in towards its true target, Celica.

For a brief moment, Celica saw a figure within the light. It had several sets of small wings that shined brightly. Then, a split second later, it disappeared.

"It's an angel!" Genny cried from beside Celica, clasped her hands together, and bent down on her knees. She had seen the true form of the figure within the red light that entered Celica's body.

"Heavens, cut down my enemies!' Celica shouted, the words coming out of her subconsciously from the very center of her mind. In her desperate mental state facing death, she had mastered Seraphim, the powerful magic spell that could defeat the necrodragon.

The spell conjured up countless rings that surrounded the necrodragon. Within each of those rings was an angel just like the one that had appeared before Celica.

The necrodragon split into a million pieces that vanished.

Seraphim. Celica mastering this spell was certain proof that even now as Earth Mother Milia was trembling under Duma's threat to her power, she was still everywhere in Zofia, and continuing to protect Celica.

-

Peace returned to the shrine. The dark clouds parted, and it was not the mystical glow emanating from the necrodragon, but now the sun's rays illuminating the shrine, returning it to its rightful state.

Saber was grieving. The only words he could manage to utter were those that expressed his remorse and how sorry he felt.

As he was crying with his face against the ground, someone walked up to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

It was Genny.

With her left hand still on his shoulder, she raised her left hand towards the heavens and said, "This man is Saber. Judging by his current will and strength, he does not know if he is worthy of Mila and Duma's blessing to complete the transcendence ritual to become a Myrmidon."

Saber looked up. His face, covered in Kamui's blood and the dirt kicked up during the battle, twisted in pain, even more so than it already was from wrongfully taking the life of his friend.

'Me, a Myrmidon? I allowed my friend to be killed. I have been stained forever as divine punishment for my wicked deeds. Why me? I should not be forgiven. No… for Kamui's tragic death, I know I will never be forgiven.'

"No, stop!" Saber wailed, but when he tried to squirm out of Genny's grasp and run away, she put all of her strength into her left hand, and kept his shoulder down.

As Genny prayed, the white light that fell over the quiet shrine looked like a single strand dangling from the web of a spider living on the rock ceiling above. The light moved until it finally enveloped Saber and created a cocoon. When it vanished, Saber had transcended to become a Myrmidon, the unit class above Mercenary.

Mila had forgiven him.

-

They found the Blessed Sword lodged deep in the necrodragon's throat. Saber knew there was only one thing he could do with it. He gave it to Celica, and vowed his eternal loyalty to her.

The group arranged a heartwarming funeral service for Kamui. Saber requested everyone that he be allowed to remove the cloth Kamui wore around his neck in a moment of silence, and wrap it around his own neck. When Boey and Mae saw what he was doing, they allowed it. Leo did not speak a word, but slapped his hand on Saber's shoulder, and Genny prayed for Kamui's soul to find peace.

Zofia Harbor was in their sights. Still unable to shed a single tear, the Myrmidon Saber stared not at the waves, but beyond the undulating seas. He focused all his energy on maneuvering the rudder.

Their cargo ship had now officially become the warship for Mila's restoration army. On its bow stood Valbar and Celica, so different in size they looked like a parent and child pair.

"That's strange." Valbar said something concerning. "I can see a light coming from the southern fort. It has fallen to Desaix, and he is already no longer using it. It should be locked up tight."

The southern fort Valbar referenced, atop the Zofian shore's cliff wall that had finally come into sight, soared high into the sky. Celica also saw with her own eyes that there was indeed a light lit on its steeple.

[undertakeruo]

GENSHIN IMPACT | EVERLASTING MOONGLOW AWAKEN AND UNAWAKEN WEAPON [UI]

(Lvl 90. Stats)

BASE ATK :697 HP 49.6% R1 Passive :

Byakuya Kougetsu: Healing Bonus increased by 10%, Normal Attack DMG is increased by 1% of the Max HP of the character equipping this weapon. For 12s after using an Elemental Burst, Normal Attacks that hit opponents will restore 0.6 Energy. (Energy can be restored this way once every 0.1s.)

"The "pearl and waves" emblem of the Sangonomiya is said to represent the waves that embrace Watatsumi, And the bright pearls that can be found there. But some also say that it shows the jeweled wheel of Watatsumi Omikami keeping eternal vigil over the land of coral like the moon.

In the dreams of the deep sea where sponges and coral dwell, in the depths where flowing clouds and ocean sands dance as one, Undying hope would pass from generation to generation of those descended from their god — they who dreamed the same dreams as Watatsumi. The colors of the skies are ever-changing, and the lights and shadows cast deep beneath the waves are of forms ill-defined... Thus did the brilliant compassion that the dark ocean could not conceal diffuse in tranquil bliss.

In those days, the first Divine Priestess once led her brethren with wisdom as precious as pearls, And she selected clergy from amongst the people newly introduced to the sun, who aided the offspring of their god in comforting those for whom the light of day brought terror. In latter days, the "Umigozen" who made the navies of Narukami tremble would sing whale-songs alongside them, And it was this symbol that they drew as they danced with the airborne kurage.

Some years later, a single bolt of lightning would reject the dream of the Watatsumi people. Into the storm slithered the serpent, the lightning's ruthless glow to surely face... But the children of the god and the shrine maidens, who had hearts of pearl, would not forget. Countless tales, gratitude unnumbered, and that ring of ocean gems would forever be passed down, And they would shine ever brighter and more beautifully for it.

Whether it be the histories of the jeweled branches being torn or the birth of precious pearls, Or the defeat of the wicked creatures in the depths to bring sunlight to the pale nation beneath the waves, Or how the young man who dreamed of standing atop Mt. Yougou came to have the name of an "evil king," and had his great duel against the tengu... All these would light up the hearts of the children of Watatsumi, like pearls from the heavens, like waves under the moon's glow. They will carry the pain of loss away into the churning, salty waters, storing them within radiant pearls. May the stories and sacrifices of the age of gods forever be handed down, along with this emblem of "pearl and waves."

Even if the storm clouds should gather, and even if the violet lightning's ferocity be perilous and unpredictable, The silver moon of Watatsumi shall still pierce through the clouds and scatter forth its light"

[malhare-archive]

So lemme get this straight, BASICALLY: God created a dude who was the Best TM / his favorite / etc & but HE KNEW (☆) he was gonna "cause problems" eventually then complained & didn't do shit & asked the Now Better Brother to kick them? Now all the problems are blamed to Him & the Girl & dude who just wanted an apple from the Snake that "Knew better than to Not Complain Ever & My dad is the causer of problems"?

I wonder if predestination is involved coz if it was then.. I dunno [stares blanky into space] a lot to unpack lol

Also why did He "create" Jesus... and why did he indirectly killed him eventually- why does he create kids to just have as tools to use on us on his puppet game of life? Is it really worth it? Conditional fake love for another one? What's his deal?

Apologies if I said sth offensive I'm sayin' this to you cause [vaguely gestures]. So you are allowed to call me out 👍🏼This is just One of the "versions" I understand (?). I Could have explained it better as well- But the yuri post got me thinkin xD

You don't need to apologize at all! You honestly treat Christianity with more respect than it even deserves (/lh) and you definitely won't offend my ex-Catholic ass. Speaking of, I'm going to preface this by saying that I was raised Catholic so that's the pov through which I view the Bible, but not all sects of Christianity teach and view things the same way.

ANYWAY, right from the top - The Christian God is not a benevolent God. To Catholics, God is more of a force to be feared and obeyed than anything else. Many would disagree if you said this to their face, but the roots of institutional Catholicism are shame, guilt, and control. Sin is something that we innately desire to commit, but must have the fortitude to resist. Humans' lives on Earth are a trial, a test, a period to devote yourself to God and gain your entry into Heaven through resisting the temptation to sin.

That being said, Lucifer is the embodiment of what happens when you choose to sin and when you choose to defy God. There is no actual, textual reason for Lucifer's rebellion given in the Bible however I was taught that his greatest sins were jealousy (he is jealous of how God favors humans) and pride (he was arrogant and wanted to be on the same level as God/wanted to be independent of God). Lucifer and a host of angels loyal to him waged war on the other angels who were led by Archangel Michael, who cast them all down after defeating them.

Adam and Eve were ejected from the garden for the very same thing; They chose to directly disobey God by partaking of the forbidden fruit (fun fact, the Bible never says what fruit it is! No idea why everyone thinks it's an apple). Lucifer tempted them with the same thing that captivated him so much:

"And the serpent said unto the woman, Ye shall not surely die: For God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as Gods, knowing good and evil." (Genesis 3:4)

Both these stories mirror the eternal struggle Catholics face: The desire to sin vs the self control to obey God.

God sending Jesus to Earth is essentially seen as his greatest gift and mercy to humanity. After Adam and Eve partook of the forbidden fruit humans became independent, self-centered, and greedy. Humanity as a whole was too thoroughly corrupted by sin to return to God and in Old Testament times sacrifices had to be given to atone for sins. So, Jesus was sent to teach the word of God and to bring people closer to God. He was sacrificed to take all of humanity's sins unto himself, absolving the human race of that darkness - "Jesus died for your sins" and all that. This is why he's called the "lamb of God", lambs being a very common sacrificial animal.

Tl;dr: Lucifer wanted to be independent so God permabanned him. God killed an aspect of himself to absolve humanity of the sin he programmed us to have in the first place 👍 if you don't do everything the clergy God tells you to, you go to Hell forever 👍👍

[cryptid-quest]

On This Day in Cryptid History

December 9th: In 1871, the Harper Weekly published an account of a sea serpent seen off the coast of County Clare in Ireland by several witnesses, including members of the clergy. It was described as horse faced, with seaweed like hair and glassy eyes.

[rulers-of-hungary-tournament]

ROUND 2, MATCH 6

Admin's commentary: Ah, a classic knight vs serpent battle. Like I don't want to seem like I have favourites in any match, but this one isn't going to be super exciting I'm affraid.

***

WHAT MY PROFESSOR OF MEDIEVAL HISTORY SAID ABOUT THEM

Salamon (Šalamún) 1063-1074

he had several cousins, which ofc is an inherently dangerous situation for an Arpád, so he later made a deal with them and gave them duchies, they even defended the country together

unfortunately, all of this family idyll couldn't last forever, because Arpáds, and as mentioned in the I.Géza entry, one of said cousins overthrew him because of Salamon's attempt at his life

Solomon tried several times to regain the throne, but unsuccesfully, and his support in exile slowly dwindled, untill he was forced to give up and officially declare I.László the true king of Hungary

I.László (Ladislav I.) 1077-1091

as mentioned bellow, during his rule, the whole Salamon situation was sorted out, and the foreign relations were consolidated, so that's nice

or would be if he also wasn't the first king of Hungary to focus on expanding the borders of the country, he tried to conquer Croatia (using some business with his sister, who married there, as an excuse), but in his absence Hungary was attacked by Pechenegs, so he had to rush back home

finished christianization of Hungary, during his reign developing religious culture, canonization of first Hungarian saints (I.István, his son Imre, saint Svorad and Benedict), also founded new bishoprics, chapters and provostrics

lest you think he was all gung-ho about the church and would let it do whatever it wanted, he also wrote two law codes, which among other things limited the right of the church to provide asylum to criminals

he also, just like Kálman mentioned in the previous week, called up a church synod, where many important questions were settled (celibacy of the clergy, tithes etc.); overall this guy was kind of a big deal, even beyond the sainthood he later obtained?

[czitara]

Hello everyone.

Please say hi to my newest flatmate, Crowley.

You may not recognise him at once since he is currently wearing a Jester “costume”. He had recently spent too much time in south-west Germany and found out about one of the German’s finest traditions: carnival. Given that this particular tradition is advocating everything the Serpent of Eden is known for endorsing – gluttony, drunkenness, mockery, and all other kinds of sins that come with excessive partying – he had taken to it like a fish to water.

Granted, the costume wasn’t exactly part of the plan. But it seemed like a good idea at first to blend in with the crowds when trying to lure the already heavily sinning masses into committing more sins (sins that seemed to lack the usual creative spark the serpent would normally invest and instead strongly focused on more drunkenness and more badmouthing about clergy and aristocracy).

He was having the time of his life all while feeling very productive. Crowley was really besting the concept of “find a work that you like and you never have to work for the rest of your life”.

It all went jolly well until one day, the demon had to learn that his efforts had caused somewhat of a downward spiral amongst the humans and thus caught him the attention of the local count’s guards who apparently accused him of fomenting disobedience among the people and planning a coup to gain power over his territories. Utterly ridiculous and insanely far-fetched if you asked the Serpent. Could one no longer invent some innocent little rhymes about the beheading of a certain fopdoodle of a count and spread the word like wildfire without being charged with treason these days?

He changed back into his snake form for the remainder of the festivities to keep the local authorities off his back. But he was rather annoyed about being deprived of this particular pleasure that would now continue without him. So, he decided to keep having fun nonetheless, even just with his own company (the angel unfortunately – but not unsurprisingly – NOT supporting this kind of sinful festivities).

And until the morning of Ash Wednesday, if one was to stumble into an empty barn in a dark, abandoned alley near the celebrations, one would have found a bundle of colourful, oddly shaped rectangles curled around a keg of German beer. And if one would have bothered to take a closer look, every now and then, one would have seen a snake’s head appear out of the colourful bundle, dipping its head reverently all the way down into the keg and then emitting gurgling sounds of drunkenly hissed melodies, while the head was swaying rhythmically to the faint sounds of German folk music in the distance.

I found him like this and decided to take him home, poor snek. Jester Crowley will return for next carnival’s season.

PS: he will always vehemently deny liking German folk music although for some strange reason, his take on the matter will always, reliably, be subjected to thorough revision, once past his 5th drink…

[theblackbookofarkera]

Synod of the Immaculate Serpent

The Synod of the Immaculate Serpent is the ecumenical organization for the worship of the Immaculate Serpent. The church has a military-like structure that functions as a meritocracy with the most dedicated and faithful members rising to the top. Puritanical and ruthless the leadership of the synod does not tolerate corruption or degeneracy amongst its ranks and will root it at any cost.

Men and women are both allowed to take up the priesthood with no delineation in roles. Priests of both genders are required to marry and females are expected to bear as many children as possible. Children born to members of the clergy are expected to pursue careers within the church or the imperial military. Besides receiving a liturgical education many members of the clergy are also trained in the arts of combat and tactics providing auxiliary support for the imperial war machine.

[muutosarchive]

𝑏𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑤𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑠𝑘𝑒𝑑: “𝑐𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑎 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑝𝑡.” -𝑄𝑢𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝐶𝑜𝑝𝑖𝑎

gloved hands push the ghoulette's hair behind her horns, as she sits in his lap. her gentle words causing his head to tilt, & his brows to draw inward in thought. one hand on her waist, while the other pets her idly. regarding her, with a soft patience. for whatever was just was a pretty concept before, is now subject to become reality. whatever he wants, at the palm of his hand. & while he's not used to it, he is unable to resist the innate desire to take what he wants. has not, in fact... & becomes more addicted with every taste of the unfamiliar. but her want is palpable.. trusts him, implicitly. as he does in return. for his ghouls, as she is one, are papa's closest confidants in a clergy full of serpents. those who mean to sell their information to his mother, at the highest bid. yet her attention makes copia feel wanted. feel special. & like the coveted figure he has no doubt become. he raises a hand, as if to say 'why not' a small smile lifting his painted lips. streaked down to his naked clavicle. he's ready for her, now. she need only have him, if she desired it. backs of his knuckles stroking along her cheek. "do you want me inside of you, la mia principessa perfetta?" he inquires. "hm?" a thumb strokes the bone, there. "all you have to do is take me, cara -- & i am yours. si?"

NSFW  PINTEREST  SENTENCE  STARTERS / / @bornagainfromwaves

[samusings]

56 ! for spotify wrapped

Spotify Wrapped Starters -  Finale (Can’t Wait To See What You Do Next)

Not all nights are perfect. Not all that glitters is gold. You can be born from the serpent and bitten by the serpent all the same. Walking to the Clergy's office is like marching to the gallows carrying the basket your head will end up in. Terzo marched a path and Aether's boots followed. Pride was unbecoming of a Ghoul, a beast, a monster, but a Quintessence? That was their specialty. Perfection. The world wanted heaven from them, wanted perfection in every circumstance, well...In every circumstance that was deemed useful to the Ghost Project, that is.

How useful is a kind and caring leader, one who would stick out his neck to make sure that even the worst Ghoul was spared. Throw his life out on the line just to ensure safety for his Ghouls. He would do anything for Them. He would wage war on Heaven and Earth and Hell and every plane between or above or below in order to protect those that he saw near and dear to himself.

And that made quite the target painted on his heart. A clean shot if anybody wanted to fire. And yes, the Clergy was willing to wedge a metaphorical bullet into satanic ribs. A shot intended to scare the Beast into submission, which had him turning tail to dredge back to the Ghoul's wing of the Abbey. Words spoken that targeted the weaker-spined of the Ghouls' pack. A chain was only as strong as its weakest link, and, well, Water Ghouls were a dime a dozen, weren't they? One slip up could lead to some pretty severe changes.

It was only natural for Aether to want to check up on Rain, as soon as the door was opened, Aether rushed in and shoved the door shut behind him. Paranoia shot through his veins, his shaking hands clutching tight to Rain's shirt in his hug. "Rainy. Rainbow. Rain. Rain. Rain." Aether clutched him tighter to his chest. "Are you alrigh'? B-Been pretty nice, uh, nice weather? Y'safe? All in one piece, right?"

[windona]

Alright. As a Quaker, I am deeply baffled by this.

For one, Rebecca Sugar interviews do state the LGBT+ themes, but nothing of the religious themes. It's a coming of age story about questioning authority and how adults don't always have the answers- as any adult who has been flummoxed by a situation can attest.

Now let's dive into your theology.

First, it wasn't Satan or Satan in the disguise in the Bible. I double checked my copy, and it was a physical beast, described as a creature like the cattle or any other animal. The allusion has been drawn with the temptation of the serpent and the Devil, but that's not a universal thing.

Secondly, no mortal can achieve perfection, no matter how faithful. That is a condition of mortality. However, I quibble with the premise of brokenness. Humans have their trials and tribulations, and spirituality helps us go through life and those trials with grace. But the virtuous man who lives a compassionate and spiritual life without having ever heard of Christianity is not inherently broken, and I have seen those with the word of God on their lips and chains in their hands.

Your attack of self love is odd and has a false premise. Self obsession is wrong, but love of self is not- after all, there is that of God in everyone and everything, and it is through cultivating that of God in ourselves we can connect to God that is everywhere. Self loathing self hatred, and self flagellation can also inhibit our ability to attain greater spirituality. We must be honest with ourselves, about our flaws and our virtues, before we can improve as people and as those in communion with God.

Oh, and that leads me to another thing- the LGBT+ community and Christianity are not inherently at odds. The United Methodist Church now allows same sex marriage and clergy. My Quaker Meeting and the umbrella of Quakerism its under is LGBT friendly. I've talked to Christians who are against same sex marriage, but have no issue with asexuality.

If we're talking Leviticus 20:13, that's complicated. For one, it specifies a man lying with a man like a woman: that doesn't actually condemn women lying with women. For another, there is debate on the interpretation: some suggest it references pedophilia, for example. If we get into the cultural context, I've seen Jewish debates on this and the context that suggest it could mean something like not sleeping with a man on a woman's bed along with the above interpretations. The other is the belief in the New Convent, and that Jesus upon his sacrifice made the old rules irrelevant and set new ones on. In that case, nothing in Leviticus is applicable to Christians.

In conclusion, you're right that White Diamond is not God, because she's a stand in for abusive parents. By your own header post, we cannot ignore the words a creator has about their work. But you are wrong about how we treat with God, and wrong about how all of Christendom (notoriously splintered and fought wars over that!) feels about a modern topic.

“At least it's not ferociously attacking God quite as directly as Steven Universe did…”

Not that I’m surprised by this statement, but can you elaborate on this? Kinda intrigued by your thoughts on Steven Universe.

Okie dokie, you’re not the only one who has asked me about this, so I suppose I’ll poke the hornet’s nest. 😅 I haven’t talked about this before because I assumed that everyone who wanted to hear my kinds of opinions on stories wasn’t watching or interested in Steven Universe.

It’s like asking vegetarian if they enjoyed a turkey dinner. The turkey dinner was so obviously not made for vegetarians to enjoy, so why would the vegetarian even bother analyzing the turkey?

But I think if some people are asking me why I think Steven Universe is anti-God (of the Bible) its because maybe they don’t know what the turkey is. Not completely. (Maybe not you, because like you said, you’re not surprised by my comment.) So I’ll explain my thoughts on Steven Universe.

If you’re just following me because you liked some stuff I posted, but didn’t realize that I’m a Bible-believing Christian and don’t want to hear about it, unfollow me now. Because I’m going to talk about some hot button issues here and the trolls will come out.

Steven Universe is really well-done. The jokes are funny, the writing is believable, the characters have great chemistry, great design, the concept is fascinating, the slow build-up and reveal of the plot elements is great. But when you watch the throne room scene in the last episode of Season 5 “Change Your Mind,” it’s alarmingly clear how much the whole show is not just settling for defending and championing the LGBTQ+ worldview—it goes all the way to attacking what Christians believe, on the other side.

Anything that’s pro-LGBTQ+ is doing that by default, but this show goes out of its way to do that.

You have to understand: God created and designed us. Deeper than that; He created and designed romantic relationships, and invented marriage. He didn’t just create love—He is love. So when humans come along and do what we’ve always done since the fall, and say, “I’d rather define what Your thing is and how it works for myself, God,” it’s not only an incredible slap in the face, it’s an attack on God’s actual identity—and it’s destructive for us and the people around us. Like a fish insisting it can breathe oxygen.

But Steven Universe goes beyond that. It knows that the Christian worldview is it’s biggest opposition. It digs right down to the heart of the worldview-battle. LGBTQ+ worldview says, “I should get to love what I want and be who I am, because I’m me. Love is love. (By which I mean, any action or relationship I choose to call love is love, because I’m the one calling it that.)”

Biblical worldview says “No, wait, you shouldn’t base your decisions on you alone; what you want changes day to day, and you’re broken, so you can’t ever be satisfied based on what you want—the Bible says God made you for something, and you rejected that, and it broke you. You’re not how you’re meant to be: even what you want and what you think love is is twisted up and can hurt you and others. But if you submit to God He’ll help you, He’ll fix what’s broken and give you new life by making you how you were supposed to be: He’ll live in you and through you.”

Are we beginning to get the picture?

See, the whole thing with the opposing views between LGBTQ+ and Christian people is as old as time. It’s not a new debate. It’s Satan and Eve in the garden. She says, “This is not how God said things should be,” and Satan says, “Are you sure that’s what He said? He knows if you do this thing, you’ll be like Him. You’ll be god: you’ll get to decide ‘how things should be’ for yourself.”

He lied and said that disobedience would satisfy her. That she knew what her own heart needed better than the God that made it did. That the very act of being imperfect would make her godlike.

And then Steven Universe comes along and says “if every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn’t have hotdogs.”

And has a cast of created being characters who’s imperfections (Garnet’s forbidden “love,” Pearl’s obsession, Amethyst’s insecurity) are supposedly “the best thing about them; what makes them who they are.”

And has a main character who used to be a part of the god-like creator relationship, but used her power to come down to earth and completely change who she is into a fully different person.

And has a godlike Creator character who claims she “doesn’t need” her created beings (just like the God of the Bible) but they all have a little part of their creator in them so she has to repress their imperfections; she holds them all to a standard that’s impossible to reach called “perfection” and punishes them when they don’t meet it even though it hurts them to try; she expects them all to do what they were created by her for; she fixes them when they can’t meet her standard by shining her light through them and making them extensions of their Creator.

And has a main character who argues, fights back, tries to stop her, and is answered with lines that sound surprisingly like what LGBTQ+ people hear when Christians argue with them: “you’re only making things worse; you’re just deceiving yourself; even while you resist it your actual light can’t help shining through,” etc.

White Diamond just wants everything to be perfect. Like her. She just wants her created beings to “be themselves.” But what she means is, be how she created them to be.

And she’s the bad guy. She’s playing God in this show, and Rebecca Sugar is saying, “If God is telling us that can only be happy by being perfect, as He is perfect, and doing what He created us to do, then He’s wrong. Our imperfections are what make us special—unique—individuals—free—and there is nobody who has the right to take that freedom away from us, not even out creator!”

And you know what?

If God were like White Diamond, like Rebecca Sugar believes Him to be, Steven Universe would be right.

But He is NOT.

God is not a dictator who forces us to conform to a standard of perfection and then smashes us when we don’t meet it. He is a King who made us perfect to begin with, and we rejected him, because He allowed us to do that. He knew that true love was love that had to be chosen, and He wanted us to love Him by choice, so he gave us the option. But Rebecca Sugar doesn’t understand—there was never “Choose God or Choose Yourself.” There was only, “Choose God or Choose Nothing.” There was nothing except God. Then He created everything. There is no version of reality where you have something better than God, or even slightly less good but different, to pick. You’re not jumping from one ship into a smaller one, but at least it’s yours—you’re jumping from one ship into a void, and then complaining that there’s no other ship. That’s humans. That’s not God. / White Diamond didn’t make her creations perfect (Amethyst) and she didn’t make them for love. She made them for power. That’s not the God of the Bible.

Even when we did choose to try and love ourselves instead of God, and therefore warped our ability to perfectly love at all, He didn’t smash us. True, everything fell and was cursed, which is exactly what He warned us would happen if we chose it, but it was a natural consequence of breaking ourselves. And then He didn’t leave us that way. He didn’t give up on us. And He certainly didn’t just zap us, snap His fingers, quick-fix it and turn us all into robots who are extensions of Him, who say they love Him but only because it’s His voice puppeting us to say it.

No. He came to us, chose to give up His life at the exact point on the timeline when Romans, masters in the art of slow, humiliating, torturous death, would be the ones to carry out His crucifixion, and saved us Himself. Through the sacrifice of His own life. And even then, we still have a choice. We get to choose to accept that incredible self-sacrifice when we don’t deserve it, and be given new life and a relationship with the Creator who knows us and loves us better than we can love ourselves or receive love from others—OR we can just keep stubbornly insisting that our slavery to the opposite of what God wants is somehow freedom, and our twisted versions of love are genuine, and we’re not broken, and die like that. Die broken creatures who lived their whole lives stomping their feet and screaming “I’m not a creature, I’m a god!”

White Diamond sacrifices nothing, because Rebecca Sugar doesn’t know the God of the Bible. She just knows her idea of Him. She’s never actually gotten to know Him. If she had, she’d learn how silly and twisted her idea is.

Because you know what, yeah, if every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn’t have hot dogs. But people aren’t pork chops. And hot dogs have flavor (not better than pork chops) but they are awful for you.

Christians aren’t perfect cuts of meat with no individuality or flavor. Just because we all know and love the same God doesn’t mean we have no personalities. It just means we don’t think so freaking much about what we are, or who we get to be, or what we like and want. Jeez, what a self-centered, narcissistic, self-obsessed way to live. She plays Steven like he’s this wonder-child, innocent and full of heart, who encourages his friends to love and keep trying. But honestly?

This is very pretty animation but it’s not real. Steven looks happy hugging Steven but self-love doesn’t ultimately get you that.

That’s all based on the premise that what he’s encouraging them to do is actually good, and will make them happy, and will help them love better. And it just won’t. Not in real life. That’s not how any of this works. Self-love is just self-obsession. And that is a sure-fire way to hurt you, and everyone around you.

You’ll never be free by choosing to run to a worse master. You’ll never be satisfied with your crappy attempts at loving yourself, because you were made to be loved flawlessly and forever by someone who is Love Himself.

And choosing to identify with your imperfections doesn’t make you uniquely you. It just makes you exactly like every other human being marching in the same line since the Fall.

White Diamond’s not relational. She’s up high and distant. That’s not God. He made you to be in relationship with Him. He loves you, totally and perfectly, and He proved it by sacrificing for You.

So yeah. That’s the problem with Steven Universe. Come get me, SU fans.

[istokchurchsupplies]

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