#this post is the equivalent of a divinity tapping on your shoulder and when you turn around they show you their true form and

[detaia]

@eleven-of-the-woods *crawling on hands and knees, hands reaching towards you* brother....you have.....to look....*dies*

can i say something .

[ghostheadcanons]

(Yandere) Copia: Thinking Of You

Anonymous said:

Nsfw yandere copia, if that's alright? Feel free to get super grosssss please and thank you.

It’s most certainly alright, anon! It took me a little while to figure out a way to make it not too creepy, and I think I’ve succeeded in that, along with making sure no non-con takes place. So, have the story about how he got his hands on your underwear for his shrine!

TW: +18, Obsession, Stalking, Voyeurism, General yandere nonsense. I don’t condone any of this behavior IRL, and neither should you. 

Let’s turn back the clock. Before you were trapped in a cell underground, before you’d even gotten into a relationship with one of the Papas, you had been a relatively low-profile figure in the Ministry. You had a few friends here and there, but all in all, you were just another sibling of sin.

Well. Except to a certain Cardinal, that is. 

Even at this point in time, Cardinal Copia is obsessed with you. He’s been sending some of his rats everywhere you go to keep a constant watch. He knows just how special you really are. And he knows he has to be vigilant, in case anything 

(or anyone)

comes to try and hurt you. 

It’s half past six. His six o’clock rats had scampered off as they were supposed to, but his three o’clock rats are nowhere in sight. 

He taps his foot restlessly, looking from side to side at the desk in his office. They were supposed to watch you for three hours and then report back to him. Where are they?

His anxiety kicks into overdrive. Had you seen them? Maybe you’d gone to get the rat poison?? Ah, but you loved animals, you would never want to hurt them--but what if someone else saw them? What if one of the ghouls--

“Squeak!”

Copia’s head whips up. A single rat had come scurrying from one of the holes in the wall. 

“Ignazio!” he cries, shoulders slumped with relief. He holds out his gloved hands, and the brown rat came running into them. “Thank Lucifer, you’re alright. What happened? Where are the others?”

He holds the rat to his ear. Ignazio blinks his beady black eyes, then leans up to the Cardinal’s ear to whisper his secrets.

“....‘distracted?’” Copia’s brow furrows. “What do you mean, ‘you got distracted?’”

Ignazio’s ears twitch, and he continues. 

“What?” Immediately Copia pulls the rat away from his ear, shocked. “You saw them doing what?!” Ignazio merely stares at him with twinkling black eyes, grooming his whiskers innocently.

They had watched you masturbating.

“Di Lucifero...” whispers the Cardinal, a hand rising to his mouth. To think of an angel like you, doing something so...so carnal, so....infernal...

It could drive a man crazy.

“Tell me everything,” demands Copia. 

Ignazio continues to share what he’d seen, and it’s all Copia can do not to moan. You had been laying on your bed, completely naked, hands plunged between your legs...

He has to hold up a hand to stop the rat. “You--you shouldn’t have been watching that!” he hisses, in spite of the rising heat in his face. “It’s.....it’s wrong....”

The brown rat does the rodent equivalent of a shrug. It was interesting. They got distracted.

And they had something new for the shrine today. 

Right on cue, the other rats come in through the hole, carrying a little bundle of cloth between them. The Cardinal nearly chokes when he sees what it is. 

Your underwear. 

“You...you took....” he sputters. The rats drop down to his desk and leave your underwear there, right on top of the document he’d just been writing. He can feel his erection, hard and throbbing, straining at the fabric of his cassock. The man is about to send his rats away for some needed relief, but a thought occurs to him.

“...did they say any names?” He pauses, licking his dry lips. “Did they say anything at all?”

Collectively, they shake their heads. No names. Just some quiet moaning. 

“Good, good, good. Off you go. Your dinner’s out and waiting for you.” Cardinal Copia waves them off quickly, breathing becoming heavy. 

On one hand, the thought of you saying someone else’s name is enough to send him into a rage. ...but on the other...the thought of you saying his name...

He almost dares not think of it. To think of something so wrong, to think of his fallen angel saying the name of someone so unworthy, someone like him...but he can’t resist. He lifts his cassock, pulling the fabric aside so he can take hold of his cock. 

The Cardinal breathes a shaking sigh, stroking at a slow pace. Another blasphemous thought enters his head, and a shudder goes through him. He looks around quickly--guiltily--as if you might somehow catch him in the act, before reaching for the pair of underwear on his desk. 

“Forgive me,” he whispers. He lets his eyes flicker closed as he rubs your underwear against his shaft. The divine images fill his head again--of you flat on your back, eyes closed tightly, head tilted upwards...your little whimpers as you play with yourself....

And--dare he imagine it???--speaking in a low whine. 

“Copia...” dream-you whispers, panting. “Copia...”

The image makes him let out a low, needy moan, increasing his speed. To think of you, letting your lips wrap around his name...more images come. You, still fully nude, standing and smiling before him. Maybe even with your wings exposed. 

“My most devout disciple,” you purr, sinking to your knees. “Copia...please, let me reward you...”

He gasps, his breath shallow and heaving. He feels the orgasm building and there’s no way in hell or in heaven that he can stop it. “Oh, fuck--fuck--!”

He covers his mouth to muffle his groan as he cums--covering your underwear in his seed. Shuddering and gasping for breath, he thrusts a few more times into his tightened fist, milking himself dry. 

Even through the post-orgasm haze settling over his mind, an intense stab of guilt rushes through him. He’s defiled you, even if only in his mind. And yet, it’s all another part of the delicious dichotomy of You--you deserved to be worshiped, yes, but you also deserved to be satisfied, to be pleasured, to be fucked...

...and who better than him?

The Cardinal slumps against his chair, breathing out a sigh. A few of his rats are watching him. But they’re not judging him. They never do. “What a mess,” he mutters, staring down at the now-sticky fabric in his hands. 

Carefully, he pushes himself to his feet. Right. Time to clean up. He looks regretfully down at your underwear again--but he can wash them. He’ll have to wash them before he leaves them on your shrine, anyway. 

And what a fine addition they’ll make. 

[contemplative-prayer-collec-blog]

The Sacred Word, Intention, and the Practice of Being Aware of God

Cynthia Bourgeault, author and trainer, provides a helpful reminder about "intentionality" and the use of our "sacred word," one of the essential aspects of the contemplative practice of Centering Prayer.  As we practice with our sacred word, we are learning to accept God's invitation to notice Him in each moment.  That invitation is like a divine "tap on our shoulder" that reminds us that we are never alone, never forgotten, never forsaken.  Like the Psalmist, we declare that there is no place where we can get away from His presence (Ps. 139: 7).  Let Michael W. Smith be your prelude to Bourgeault’s reminder (below) about the practice of CP..

“Centering Prayer is not done with attention but with intention,” Thomas Keating repeatedly reminds us. Unlike other methods of meditation, Centering Prayer does not furnish an object for your attention—whether it be repeating a mantra, following your breath, or watching your thoughts as they arise. Rather, you simply withdraw your attention from anything that brings it to a focal point and return again and again to your underlying intention—what The Cloud of Unknowing calls your “naked intent direct to God.”

In Centering Prayer, then, everything begins with and keeps returning to intention. What am I really up to in this prayer? What is my aim?

It is difficult, admittedly, to put words around an experience that is deeply personal and intuitive. But in general, you’re in the right ballpark if your intention is “to be totally open to God”: totally available, all the way down to that innermost point of your being; deeper than your thinking, deeper than your feelings, deeper than your memories and desires, deeper than your usual psychological sense of yourself. Ultimately, what will go on in this prayer is “in secret” (the words that Jesus used in his instructions on prayer in Mathew 6:6): hidden even from yourself, in that inmost sanctuary of your being—where your life is “hidden with Christ in God” (Colossians 3:3).

The sacred word in Centering Prayer serves as a placeholder for your intention. It’s the spiritual equivalent of a little piece of red string tied around your finger to remind yourself of your willingness to “do the deal.” Unlike a mantra, you don’t repeat it constantly; you only use it when you realize you’ve gotten tangled up in a thought. Then it helps gently and quickly to clear the mental debris and return you to that bare, open awareness.

Adapted from Cynthia Bourgeault, The Heart of Centering Prayer: Nondual Christianity in Theory and Practice (Shambhala: 2016), 17-20.  First posted to Richard Rohr’s Daily Meditations (Feb. 15, 2017)