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#Priestly Vows single
oldshrewsburyian · 2 years
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@butaneandthebeast​ replied to this post:
i know nothing about anglican marriage services and any elaboration on your part esp. re: anne and freddie would be much, *much* appreciated <3
@crabapple10​, adding incentive:
Yes, please elaborate on the implications of the Anglican marriage service!
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Mine hour is come. A prolegomenon on the Book of Common Prayer: as a single text, it probably has the most decisive influence on the Anglophone literary imagination from the 16th century onward. Through the time of Austen’s writing, it’s part of most people’s daily lives (more than the King James Bible or Shakespeare, for instance.) I could digress on the theological and social debates that underlie its formation and revision, because I find them fascinating, but I will spare you. Point is: it’s influential, and it continues in use for centuries before substantial revision, so the language and some of the ideas would have been archaic by Jane Austen’s day, but... this is still the Marriage Service. The edition that would have been used for the Wentworths is that of 1662.
If you’ve seen the 1995 Pride and Prejudice -- a safe bet, probably? -- you’ve heard the opening of this liturgy, and I think its use is possibly the smartest choice of that very smart adaptation, simultaneously highlighting and undercutting the meaning of the text in a way that I hope Austen would have approved, showing the messy ways in which humans live our lives... and how we still aspire to human love that mirrors the divine, that makes us both better and happier.
Anyway! Despite the fact that the BCP contains Forms of Prayer to be Used at Sea, I rather think that Anne has a more easy familiarity with the liturgies of the church than her husband; that she is readier to view this as a homely as well as a solemn thing. But Frederick Wentworth is going to vow to love, comfort, honor, and keep this woman, in sickness and in health, keeping only unto her, and I think he’s going to do such a good job. He will vow to cherish her until parted from her by death. And the final vow of their joint sequence, before the priestly prayer confirming them as man and wife, is: “with this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.” I don’t know whether he would still be pale and grave, at this point, or just impossibly fond and pleased, but that... that is a vow. Made not only in the sight of God but also, I suspect, of the Harvilles holding hands, Sophy Croft borrowing her husband’s handkerchief, and Lady Russell looking fixedly at a stained glass window.
Anne, meanwhile, will be given from the hand of a man who has no affection for her into the hands of a man who adores her. And I think that quiet Anne Elliot makes her vows unhesitating. She will have this man and hold him, plighting her troth thereunto. “Neither time, nor health, nor life, to be called your own,” exclaims Anne, in conversation with Harville about the lot of naval men. She is acutely, painfully aware of this. But even if Frederick cannot call these things his own, she can, once they are married, call them hers. These things are owed to her, vowed to her, placed into her keeping after God’s. And if her Frederick were in serious danger, frankly, I think Anne would be prepared to argue the order of precedence with the Almighty.
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supremojohndee · 1 month
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Article 71: Family Code of the Philippines
ARTICLE 71. The management of the household shall be the right and the duty of both spouses. The expenses for such management shall be paid in accordance with the provisions of Article 70.
Support from the management shall be taken from the following:
a) form the absolute community of property or conjugal partnership;
b) from the income or fruits of the separate properties of each spouse;
c) from the separate properties of the spouses
Case from Article 72: Tenchavez Vs. Escaño
Facts:
Missing her late-afternoon classes on 24 February 1948 in the University of San Carlos, Cebu City, where she was then enrolled as a second year student of commerce, Vicenta Escaño, 27 years of age, exchanged marriage vows with Pastor Tenchavez, 32 years of age, an engineer, ex-army officer and of undistinguished stock, without the knowledge of her parents, before a Catholic chaplain, Lt. Moises Lavares, in the house of one Juan Alburo in the said city. The marriage was the culmination of previous love affair and was duly registered with the local civil registrar.
Although planned for the midnight following their marriage, the elopement did not, however, materialize because when Vicenta went back to her classes after the marriage, her mother, who got wind of the intended nuptials, was already waiting for her at the college. Vicenta was... taken home where she admitted that she had already married Pastor. Mamerto and Mena Escaño were surprised, because Pastor never asked for the hand of Vicenta, and were disgusted because of the great scandal that the clandestine marriage would provoke.
The following morning, the Escaño spouses sought priestly advice. Father Reynes suggested a recelebration to validate what he believed to be an invalid marriage, from the standpoint of the Church, due to the lack of authority from the Archbishop or the parish priest... for the officiating chaplain to celebrate the marriage.
The recelebration did not take place
Ittiere, a lawyer filed for her & petition, drafted by then Senator
Emmanuel Pelaez, to annul her marriage. She did not sign the petition. The case was dismissed without prejudice because of her non-appearance at the hearing.
On 24 June 1950, without informing her husband, she applied for a passport, indicating in her application that she was single, that her purpose was to study, that she was domiciled in Cebu City , and that she intended to return after two years. The application was approved, and she left for the United States. On 22 August 1950, she filed a verified complaint for divorce against the herein plaintiff in the Second Judicial District Court of the State of Nevada in and for the County of Washoe on the ground of "extreme cruelty, entirely mental in character". On 21 October 1950, a decree of divorce, "final and absolute", was issued in open court by the said tribunal.
On 10 September 1954, Vicenta sought papal dispensation of her marriage
On 13 September 1954, Vicenta married an American, Russel Leo Moran, in Nevada. She now lives with him in California, and, by him, has begotten children. She acquired American citizenship on 8 August 1958.
But on 30 July 1955, Tenchavez had initiated the proceedings at bar by a complaint in the Court of First Instance of Cebu, and amended on 31 May 1956, aprainst Vicenta F. Escaño; her parents, Mamerto and Mena Escaño, whom he charged, with having dissuaded and discouraged Vicenta from joining her husband, and alienating her affections, and against the Roman Catholic Church, for having, through its Diocesan Tribunal, decreed the annulment of the marriage, and asked for legal separation and one million pesos in damages.
The appealed judgment did not decree a legal separation, but freed the plaintiff from supporting his wife and to acquire property to the exclusion of his wife.
Issues:
Direct appeal, on factual and legal questions, from the judgment of the Court of First Instance of Cebu, in its Civil Case No. R-4177, denying the claim of the plaintiff-appellant, Pastor B. Tenchavez, for legal separation and one million pesos in damages... against his wife and parents-in-law, the defendants-appellees, Vicenta, Mamerto and Mena all surnamed "Escaño" respectively.
Ruling:
It is equally clear from the record that the valid marriage between Pastor Tenchavez and Vicenta Escaño remained subsisting and undissolved under Philippine Law, notwithstanding the decree of absolute divorce that the wife sought and obtained on 21 October 1950 from the Second
Judicial District Court of Washoe County, State of Nevada, on grounds of "extreme cruelty, entirely mental in character". At the time the divorce decree was issued, Vicenta Escaño, like her husband, was still a Filipino citizen. She was then subject to
Philippine law, and Article 15 of the Civil Code of the Philippines, already in force at the time, expressly provided:
"Laws relating to family rights and duties or to the status, condition and legal capacity of person are binding upon the citizens of the Philippines, even though living abroad."
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horrorpatch · 3 years
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German Thrashers PARADOX Has Dropped New Single, "Priestly Vows"!
German Thrashers PARADOX Has Dropped New Single, “Priestly Vows”!
Long-time German thrash metal stars PARADOX has recently dropped a new single of “Priestly Vows!” The new material is pulled from the band’s upcoming album, Heresy II – End Of A Legend, which is out on September 24th via AFM Records. You can give the new single a listen and get an idea of what’s to come right here below. From The Press Release PARADOX have released new single ‘Priestly Vows’,…
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dalishious · 2 years
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The Dales: A Broken Promise
RELATED POST:
All You Need to Know about the Exalted March of the Dales
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Founding of the Dales
When Andraste waged war against the Imperium, the elven slaves of Tevinter rose up to aid her, led by Shartan, the elven general. In -165 Ancient, for their service in battle, Maferath granted the elves a new homeland: The Dales, located in Southern Thedas between present day Orlais and Ferelden. But neither of those two nations existed yet at this point; the lands between the Dales were occupied by independent and unorganized Ciriane and Alamarri human tribes. The Dales as a nation is older than both Orlais and Ferelden.
The former elven slaves from across Thedas began to make their way to their new homeland, where they were promised freedom and independence. This journey is known as The Long Walk. Aptly named, as most elves travelled over a great distance, all on foot. Many perished from exhaustion, hunger, or attacks by human bandits along the way. Those that made it came to Halamshiral, (“End of the Journey” in Elvhen,) the new capital of the Dales. After over 800 years of slavery under humans, having their culture, their history, their traditions, their language, their identities taken from them, the formation of this new homeland allowed them to start to reclaim these things. As the elves built Halamshiral, they vowed that no human would set foot in it, that this would be their escape from those responsible for their near millennium-long genocide and enslavement.
Leadership
In present time, a Keeper is the leader of a Dalish clan. When the Dales were an independent nation, Keepers were priests, acting as archivists and magical scholars in dedication to a temple of one of the elven gods. The Temple of Dirthamen in the Exalted Plains has a “Chamber of the Oracle”, suggesting that priestly duties may have included divination as well. Ancient elves practiced scrying, (as acted in Witch Hunt, and also given Falon'Din is referred to as “master-scryer” in a codex found in the Temple of Mythal,) so perhaps this is an art recovered in the Dales.
There was some form of hierarchy to Keepers, with High Keepers being the leaders of a given temple. High Keepers were referred to as “the High Keeper of June” or “the High Keeper of Elgar’nan”, depending on the temple they served in. It is unknown if there were multiple High Keepers for a single god at once, or if this role was reserved for one High Keeper per one god at a time. The other priests addressed High Keepers formally as “Highest One”.
The Dales had some form of nobility, of which many Dalish clan names descend from according to Mary Kirby on Twitter. Halamshiral was led by a Lord, meaning other cities may have been too.
The Emerald Knights
To uphold the vow that no human would step foot in Halamshiral, and to act as the people’s protectors, the Emerald Knights were formed. They were stationed along the borders of the Dales to prevent Templars and missionaries from entering, as the Chantry would not take no for an answer when the elves refused to convert to Andrastianism. There was also a special division of Emerald Knights known as the Fade Hunters, to protect the people against demons and maleficarum.
Emerald Knights carried talismans of some significance. They were trained to use a variety of weapons, from bows to swords to axes. Weapons were passed down from knights to squires; the famous blade Evanura went through many hands until finally ending with Lindiranae in her last stand against the Orlesian invaders.
Emerald Knights had animal companions to keep them company. They rode halla, and had wolves follow at their sides. These wolves would join the elf in battle, and watch over them as they slept.
The Emerald Graves
When an Emerald Knight night took their vow, a tree was planted in the Emerald March; a forest dedicated to the knights. In the heart of the Emerald March still rests Din’an Hanin, (“The Place Where Glory Ends” in Elvhen,) a burial tomb for the knights that fell in service of the Dales.
The elves also constructed statues in the woods honouring the god Falon’Din, and statues of wolves honouring the knights’ bond with their wolf companions. These wolf statues are known as the Knights’ Guardians.
In present time, elves refer to the Emerald March as the Emerald Graves, while most Orlesian humans just call it the Greatwood.
Dirthavaren
After Halamshiral was conquered in the Exalted March of the Dales, the Emerald Knights convened in Dirthavaren (“The Promise” in Elvhen), known by humans in present time as the Exalted Plains. They refused to submit to the very last.
Like the Emerald Graves, Dirthavaren (known colloquially by the Dalish as simply “the Dirth”) is home to an ancient elven burial ground as well, known as Var Bellanaris (“Our Eternity” in Elvhen). This gravesite is still used by Dalish clans in the area to bury their dead.
Also in Dirthavaren is Fort Revasan (“Place of Freedom” in Elvhen). This fort was built on the edge of the river Tenasir (translation unknown). It, and other elven keeps in the area such as Citadelle du Corbeau, were claimed by humans after the Exalted March.
Many elven landmarks in Dirthavaren were destroyed by the Chantry after the annexation of the Dales. Only a few remain.
Emprise du Lion
Emprise du Lion was renamed such in honour of House Valmont in the Exalted Age – the original name of the highlands is lost to time.
One natural sacred location in Emprise du Lion that remains are the Pools of the Sun, though now desecrated with Andrastian statues. Elves of the Dales would travel to the hot springs for healing. Legend says that the springs were left behind from when Elgar’nan buried the sun under the earth.
While Emprise du Lion has a number of scattered remains of the time of the independent Dales, the biggest elven feature still standing is Suledin Keep (“Endure” in Elvhen). The fortress was once home to an elven lord, now abandoned due to humans fearing it’s haunted by elven ghosts.
Smaller relics of the past are often destroyed or stolen by humans.
The Fall of the Dales
The capital city of the Dales, Halamshiral, was built with the intention of never letting a human within its walls. It was destroyed by the Orlesian invaders in 2:20 Glory, and the rest of the Dales soon fell after. The land once promised to the elves in freedom and independence was stolen from them.
Halamshiral laid in ashes for some time—there is a lore discrepancy as to when the Orlesians began building it back up and claiming it as their own. World of Thedas vol. 1 says that the Winter Palace was first constructed in 9:30 Glory as a seasonal retreat for the royal family, a mere ten years later, while the “Halamshiral” codex entry found in Inquisition says that the land laid unused until the Exalted Age.
—————
SOURCES:
Dragon Age: The World of Thedas vol. 1
Codex entry: The Long Walk (DA:O)
Codex entry: The Dales (DA:O)
Codex entry: Halla (DA:O)
Codex entry: Uthenera (DA:O)
Codex entry: The Dales: A Promise Lost (DA:I)
Codex entry: The Long Walk to Halamshiral (DA:I)
Codex entry: The Exalted March of the Dales (DA:I)
Codex entry: The Emerald Graves (DA:I)
Codex entry: The Emerald Knights (DA:I)
Codex entry: Knight's Guardian (DA:I)
Codex entry: Memorials of the Second Exalted March (DA:I)
Codex entry: Vallasdahlen (DA:I)
Codex entry: The Lost Temple of Dirthamen (DA:I)
Codex entry: Emprise du Lion (DA:I)
Note: Valorin's Journal (DA:I)
Item description: The Veshialle (DA:O)
Item description: Dhal Vallasan (DA:I)
Item description: Axe of Green Edges (DA:I)
Item description: Evanura (DA:I)
Item description: Robes of the High Keeper (DA:I)
Landmark: Var Bellanaris (DA:I)
Landmark: Citadelle du Corbeau (DA:I)
Landmark: Dalish Wolf Carving (DA:I)
Landmark: Pools of the Sun (DA:I)
Dialogue with Leliana about the Exalted March of the Dales (DA:O)
Dialogue with Keeper Hawen about the Exalted Plains (DA:I)
Dialogue with Michel about Suledin Keep (DA:I)
—————
Like these kinds of meta pieces? Please consider supporting me on Patreon, where you could have viewed it a few weeks earlier!
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geodaddy-fanfics · 3 years
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"Way Down We Go" Nanami Kento X Fem!Reader
Author's Note: I was asked to write a Priest Nanami AU fic by a friend and decided to make it part of her birthday present. Happy Birthday! Hope you like it! (I've never written smut before so... I tried. Also this is smut, so be warned).
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Churches, generally conceived as places of peace and worship, are also active locations for the creation of curses. The amount of loathing that accompanies the concept of “sin” plagues the congregations and buildings of God. As such, it was expected within the career of all jujutsu sorcerers for them to “serve” in at least one church and exterminate the various curses clinging to their hosts.
Said expectation (tied together with the conniving mind of one blindfolded loudmouth) meant that Nanami Kento, renowned sorcerer and loather of overtime, was currently masquerading as a priest and presiding over the evening congregations at a large Catholic church. Needless to say, Nanami was displeased with this assignment. Not only was he required to work beginning in the evening, he could not leave the church until he was the last one there. He had no set schedule and that irked him immensely, as well as the fact that he could not wear his usual attire, having to sacrifice his suit and tie for the black garb of modern priests.
It was a Sunday, the busiest day for churches of course, approximately a week into his service, and Nanami was once again seated inside of the confessional booth. It was exactly what he expected it to be, listening to the mundane problems of the masses while trying to match voices to faces of those unintentionally harboring curses. He’d been preaching and listening for hours, the time bordering on ten in the evening, and the small crowd was thankfully thinning. The final person stepped into the booth beside him, hidden from view, but the nervous breathing echoing through the box indicated that the individual was probably new to the faith, or at least hadn’t practiced in a while.
“Tell me, father,” the voice asked the awaiting silence. “Do we get what we deserve?”
The question piqued Nanami’s interest and he leaned towards the wall unintentionally. Usually people plopped down into the booth and listed out their various sins: liars, adulterers, thieves, and the like concerned not with change or forgiveness, but with societal standing. This woman with the quiet question had made this evening at least somewhat bearable.
“Explain to me what you mean,” Nanami questioned, racking his brain to see if he could place the face to the voice beside him.
There was a quiet sigh, as if the speaker had hoped for a simple answer. “Do you think that our actions matter? Like, if I live a sin free life or a sinful one, so long as I repent, does it matter?” The woman was clearly frustrated.
Perhaps this one question had been her only reason to turn to the church today, Nanami mused. “What, then, do you think you deserve?” He couldn’t help but ask, regardless of whether it prolonged his stay on sacred ground.
There was a moment of silence as the woman hesitated. “I’m… not sure. I work so hard every single day and I need to know if it matters.” Exhaustion poured through her last few words, the weariness of maintaining a life under society’s conditions. Nanami could relate, especially within the confines of the confessional booth many miles away from the comforts of his home and normal schedule.
“Well then, I can only recommend you one thing,” he stated. “I do not know whether our work pays off in whatever afterlife awaits us, if any. So, I suggest you take a break.”
“A break…” the woman replied, mildly confused. “I don’t understand, Father.”
Nanami didn’t understand it much himself, but as he pushed open the door to the confessional and stood surrounded by the altar's candles, he decided he could use a break as well.
Having heard the priest leave the booth, so too did the confessor. She wore an expression of wariness and confusion, but Nanami was distracted by the deep exhaustion present on her face. He was right in matching the voice to its owner, having noticed the woman in the congregation the last few nights. She had sparked his interest as one of few genuine people in the audience, even if she was skeptical about the religion, and hearing her in the booth only made it abundantly clear why he found himself mildly distracted by her during the sermons. They could both use one hell of a break.
The woman folded her arms in front of her, eyeing him with a mix of interest and doubt. “Are you planning to explain yourself, Father?”
Nanami held out his hand. As she placed her fingers gently in his palm, he tugged her forward and wrapped an arm around her waist. “A little divine intervention seems in order, my child.” She settled into his arms, seemingly comforted by his embrace. The blonde man tightened his hold on her noticeably and stared into her enticingly wide eyes.
“You better make this worth it,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “I’ve had a long day, you know.” It was clear she wanted what he was offering. Whether through attraction to him, a need for a distraction, or a mixture of both, the woman was leaning heavily upon his chest. Her arms slowly snaked up around his neck, her fingers playing with the ends of his hair invitingly.
Rather than waste more time on words, he brushed his lips up gently against hers, a silent vow to make this a godly experience. The woman seized the moment and eagerly kissed him back, turning the saintly, chaste promise into what they were both truly wanting. Nanami tightened his arms around her waist, digging his fingers into the soft fabric of her dark dress. It looked barely appropriate to wear to church in Nanami’s brain. The way it accentuated her body, the confidence with which she held herself, was too hard to resist and he was glad he stopped trying.
A light nip to her bottom lip was all the woman needed to let him into her mouth, his tongue slipping inside and providing the guidance needed to deepen their kiss. Nanami was all but drowning in the delicious sighs and moans gifted to him and diligently worked to achieve more. All the while, he gracefully guided their bodies towards the altar and thoughtlessly pushed aside the tools from his earlier sermon to sit his current subject of worship upon the chilled wood. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but it did the job just fine.
Nanami situated himself between the woman’s thighs, grinding every so often against her and earning tugs on his hair in return. “Tell me, little lamb,” he said, pulling back enough to meet the lust darkened eyes of his partner. “Will you sing for me?” His hands were on her thighs, pushing up the fabric of her dress and relishing in the soft feel of her exposed skin. He wanted nothing more than to lay her back and wreck her on this holy ground, but he waited as patiently as he possibly could to prolong this much deserved night.
“God, yes,” the woman sighed in response. Her hands wandered over his clothed skin, wondering what he felt like beneath, but rather turned on by the perfection of his priestly garb. His eyes gazed into hers, dark and wide, and color dusted sculpted cheeks. She wanted to comment how fitting it was for him to be a man of the lord when his calloused fingers hooked into her panties and gave a firm tug. All thoughts fled her brain and she moaned as a knuckle rubbed gently through the gathered wetness about her core.
“Just like that, darling,” Nanami praised, barely containing a groan as her fingernails dug delightfully into his shoulders. Swiftly, he fully removed her underwear and let it drop to the floor beside the altar. The man planted another kiss onto his partner’s blushing cheek before fluidly getting to his knees. Nanami braced his hands onto her thighs and parted them from where they had begun to close in around his face. He paused for only a moment to take in the glistening sight before him before descending his lips and tongue into the warmth before him.
He licked a broad stripe from her center to her already tender bud, huffing a breath of pure arousal at the breathy moan that sounded above him. The sound echoed off of the stone walls of the cathedral, accompanied by the wet noise that followed his tongue’s assault on her clit. Nanami relished the feeling of her fingers on his scalp and the soft spew of encouragement from above him. Already, he felt uncomfortably hard, but focused himself on pleasing the woman before him. As one hand left her thigh and traveled up under the fabric of her dress to caress the flesh beneath, Nanami slipped his tongue inside her pleading hole. He caressed the delicate walls, licking in an out to taste her fully. Her nails gripped onto his once neat blonde locks and he groaned at the feeling, the vibrations doing everything to bring her closer and closer to the edge.
Nanami continued his ministrations, burying his face into her sweet core and letting her legs close around him so his other hand could entertain her nub while he worked. With each circle of his rough thumb, he felt the woman coming undone around him. Her legs shook gently over his shoulders, but he relentlessly continued to thrust his tongue in and out of her, caressing as deep as he could in her tightening walls.
“Oh god, Father, I-” the woman attempted to say between moans of pleasure. “I’m going to-” She cut herself off with a silent scream, her face turned toward the chapel ceiling as Nanami worked her through the waves of her orgasm. He lapped up the fluids gathering around his tongue and soothingly rubbed circles onto the inner skin of her thigh, waiting until the iron grip she had on his hair relaxed and her legs no longer clamped around his head.
Nanami returned to his feet, the results of the woman’s first release glistening on his lips. There was no hesitation from either party as their mouths’ met, the taste of her on both their tongues as she greedily hugged him closer for more despite the light shaking of her body. “Please tell me that wasn’t all,” she breathed against his mouth with a coy grin.
Nanami huffed a laugh and pulled back slightly. “I’m delivering what you deserve, am I not?” He teased, grinding again against the wetness between them, not caring what it did to his black pants. The woman squirmed from the stimulation, her face a fight between a wince and the ‘oh’ of another moan.
Her fingers scrambled for purchase against the smooth fabric separating them. “I want to feel you…” She pleaded, the apprehension from earlier entirely gone. Nanami held back a groan by pressing his lips back against hers, loving how eager she was for what he wanted as well. He took the time to slip her dress entirely off of her, exposing her to the cool air of the church and the wandering of his hands. Nanami was in no rush, despite how he ached within the confines of his pants. He wanted nothing more than to continue to defile such a faithful child of god, to feel all of her skin against his fingers, to hear every little sound that left her beautiful mouth because of him.
Sadly for him, his partner was in no mood to delay. She tugged at the front of his pants, undoing the hidden button and zipper to free his lengthy and leaking member from its prison. Nanami watched her swallow from between partially lidded eyes as a small wave of relief spread through him at being exposed to the open air. “It’s not nice to lie, Father,” the woman chuckled, wrapping her hand around his cock and giving it a fair few strokes. “Those pants barely show a thing.”
Lord, was he worked up. Taking it slower would have to wait for another day. Regardless, Nanami gently placed his hand over hers, using them both to guide the head of his member to her entrance. “Then forgive me, for I have sinned.” He placed his other hand on her shoulder, guiding her to lay down against the altar and running his fingers tantalizingly down her body. Carefully, Nanami plunged into her, the stretch of her walls around him causing them both to release heavy groans towards the heavens. “God help me..” He whispered into the air with a chuckle while he waited for her to adjust to the intrusion. The sweet tightness swallowing him whole begged for him to start moving, to see how delicious it would feel for her body to milk every last drop from him, yet he waited until she impatiently twitched around him.
Looking down at her, Nanami couldn’t help but snort. “Patience is a virtue, darling.” His voice was strained from the effort it took to resist from pounding into her.
The shock of the intrusion gone, the playful smile returned to her face. “Does that mean I’ll be punished, Father?”
A genuine laugh broke from Nanami’s throat and he positioned his hands on her waist. “I suppose it is necessary. Virtues must be learned somehow.” He then began a sudden and harsh pace, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back. The drag of his cock along her walls was pure bliss, the stretch barely painful beyond the pleasure being literally pounded into her body. Perhaps it was the euphoria, but the woman could swear his unrelenting pace hit places she never knew could feel so good, each slap of skin on skin eliciting gasps and pleas from her.
Even better was the look plastered on the ever stoic and serious Nanami, the priest she had only ever seen scowling from behind the altar he was currently railing her on. His brows were drawn and his jaw set tight around every groan and grunt rung from him. The sternness was different from usual, no longer the reproachful hand of god, but a man hellbent on finding and giving release. His fingers held on with bruising strength, moving her body for her as he struck again and again at her most sensitive spot. Her fingers clawed for purchase on the thin red fabric covering the wooden slab of the altar as stars shot in and out, throwing everything out of focus except for where Nanami’s body and hers connected.
With the echoes of their voices and skin bouncing around them, Nanami was getting progressively closer to climax. The time spent pleasuring his partner had sufficiently worked him up and the pressure wrapped around his cock was godly. Seeing the edge approaching, he released one hand from its forceful grip and moved it to toy with her clit once again and bring her along with him towards release.
The woman clung to the altar with one hand above her head, her eyes scrunched shut as the coil in her core threatened to snap for the second time that evening. It didn’t take much longer for orgasm to hit, her walls clenching tight around Nanami’s cock and her barely opened eyes staring fuzzily at the church ceiling as every nerve in her body tensed and released in waves. Nanami was short to follow, the pressure around him too wonderful and the expression of the woman before him enough to tip him over the edge. He pulled out with a wet pop before painting the woman and the altar in long spurts of cum. He braced his hands on the wood on either side of her body, their heavy breathing filling the space as they both reeled back into themselves.
Before a silence could settle, Nanami began to put himself back together, cleaning himself off with a handkerchief and tucking himself back into his pants. “I will be just a moment,” he informed the still shaking woman and went to retrieve a hand towel from the closet near the church’s restroom. He began gently and diligently cleaning her, then helped her back into her clothes. Aside from the red swollenness of their lips and the disheveled state of their hair, the two looked nearly normal. Nanami had been careful not to leave any visible marks on her, had kept his lips to hers or to places unseen, simply because they had not had the time to discuss what exactly was okay and what wasn’t beforehand. Despite having fucked a churchgoer on an altar just moments before, Nanami was a gentleman and respected any boundaries his partner may have had.
With the evidence of their “worship” cleaned up, the two adults walked towards the doors of the church. The woman paused at the door and looked up to Nanami with a broad, relaxed smile. “Thank you, Father. For the break.” An amused laugh bubbled past her lips and Nanami found himself grinning slightly in return.
“Any time, my child. I am here to serve,” he said, extending a hand with a simple business card in it. “Even when I am no longer part of this congregation.” While generally saved for curse work, Nanami always carried cards with his name and number on it. And this definitely seemed like a worthwhile time to give on.
The woman took it and tucked it into her purse securely. “I hope to see you again soon,” she said in farewell, leaving Father Nanami behind to finish attending to church duties. Perhaps the mandatory service as a priest wasn’t so bad. It certainly had its perks.
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itsmarjudgelove · 3 years
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Entitled: "Iwai shijyaku no mukan no tayu atsumori";
shows Iwai Shijaku, an actor, portraying the warrior Taira no Atsumori riding on horseback through crashing waves to escape the Minamoto warriors. Taira no Atsumori (1169-1184) was a samurai famous for his early death in single combat. At the Battle of Ichi-no-Tani, Atsumori engaged Kumagai Naozane, an ally of the Minamoto, and was killed. Kumagai had a son the same age as Atsumori. Kumagai's great remorse as told in the tale, coupled with his taking of priestly vows, caused this otherwise unremarkable event to become well known for its tragedy. - Woodcut by Toyokuni Utagawa, circa 1830-35.
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orthodoxydaily · 3 years
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Saints&Reading: Mon., Apr., 12, 2021
April 12/March 30
Saint Sophronius, Bishop of Irkutsk (1771)
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     Saint Sophronius, Bishop of Irkutsk and WonderWorker of all Siberia, known under the family-name Kristalevsky, was born in Malorussia in the Chernigov region in 1704. His father, Nazari Fedorovich, was "a common man in his affairs, and Sophronii they named Stefan", in honour of the first-martyr archdeacon Stephen. He had two brothers and a sister Pelagia. The name of one brother was Paul. The name of the other older brother is unknown, but there is an account, that he was afterwards head of the Krasnogorsk Zolotonoshsk monastery.      The childhood years of Stefan were spent in the settlement of Berezan' in the Pereyaslavl' district of the Poltava governance, where the family settled after the father's discharge from service. When he came of age, Stefan entered the Kiev Theological Academy, where at the time studied two other future saint-hierarchs – Joasaph, future bishop of Belgorod (Comm. 4 September and 10 December), and Paul, future metropolitan of Tobol'sk.      Having received a religious education, Stefan entered the Krasnogorsk Transfiguration monastery (afterwards changed to Pokrov / Protection monastery, and in 1789 transformed into a women's monastery), where his elder brother already pursued ascetic life. On 23 April 1730 he took monastic vows with the name of Sophronii, – honour of Saint Sophronios, Patriarch of Jerusalem (Comm. 11 March).
     On the night after his taking of monastic vows, the monk Sophronii heard a Voice in the Pokrov church: "When thou shalt become bishop, raise up a church in the name of All Saints", – predicting of his future service. After two years, in 1732, they summoned him to Kiev, in the Sophia cathedral of which they ordained him to the dignity of monkdeacon, and then to priestmonk. Concerning the following period of the life of Saint Sophronii, it says the following in his service-form: "After having taken vows he was treasurer at that Zolotonoshsk monastery for two years, and then he was taken by decree of His Grace Arsenii Berlov of the Pereyaslavl' diocese into the house of his archbishop, in which he was steward for 8 years subject to the Alexander Nevsky monastery, from which during the course of those years he was sent to Saint-Peterburg on hierarchical business, for which in advocacy he spent two years".      These facts testify readily enough to the connections of the saint with his original Pokrovsk monastery. During his obedience under the presiding hierarch at Pereyaslavl', he often visited at his monastery, spending the day in quiet contemplation and work, giving example in the making of a monastic brother.      During the time of priestmonk Sophronii's sojourn on hierarchical business to the Synod, they showed particular attention to him. And when it became necessary to increase the brethren at the Alexander Nevsky monastery in Saint Peterburg, – 29 monks then in number having been summoned from various monasteries in Russia, in January 1742 was summoned also the future saint. A year later they appointed him treasurer of the monastery, and in 1746 he was appointed to the office of head of the monastery, which he fulfilled for seven years more.      For helping him  he summoned his fellow countryman, a native of the city of Priluk, – the priestmonk Synesii, and made him the organiser of the Novo-Sergiev monastery, which was associated with the Alexander Nevsky monastery. From this period of time the friendship of the two ascetics, – priestmonk Sophronii and priestmonk Synesii – was strengthened into a single pastoral effort, and they were inseparable until their end in the Siberian land. During these years Saint Sophronii laboured much at the managing of the monastery and improvement of teaching at the seminary located near it. Together with Archbishop Theodosii he concerned himself with the needs of adding to the monastic library.      A two-level church was built by him: the top – in the name of Saint Theodore Yaroslavich, older brother of Saint Alexander Nevsky; and the lower – in the name of Saint John Chrysostom.      In 1747 the bishop of Irkutsk, Innokentii II (Nerunovich) died. For six years afterwards the territory of the Irkutsk diocese remained without a spiritual head.      Finally, the empress Elizaveta Petrovichna (1741-1761) by decree on 23 February 1753 recommended to the Holy Synod the pious head of the Alexander Nevsky monastery Sophronii, as "a person, not only worthy of bishop's dignity, but also quite entirely able to fulfill the wishes and the hopes of the state and the Synod – to take up the burden of episcopal service on the far frontier and satisfy the needs of his flock in that harsh land, amidst wild primitives and lawless people".      On 18 April 1753, Thomas Sunday, priestmonk Sophronii was ordained bishop of Irkutsk and Nerchinsk in the Great Uspensky cathedral.      Foreseeing difficult service on the distant Siberian frontier, the newly-established bishop did not immediately set off to the Irkutsk eparchy, but rather began to gather up educated and spiritually experienced co-workers. During this period Saint Sophronii visited at his original Krasnogorsk monastery. Also at the holy places of Kiev, he sought the blessings of the Kievo-Perchersk Saints for his service. The constant companion of the saint, just as before, was the priestmonk Synesii, ardently sharing in the life's work of his friend.      At Moscow, the Archbishop of Moscow and Sevsk Platon, – who participated in the ordination of then priestmonk Sophronii, provided him further assistance. He taught him fatherly precepts for his impending task, since he was quite familiar with the peculiarities of the Siberian religious manner of life, he forewarned him about the self-willed local authorities, and advised him to gather together trustworthy helpers.      On 20 March 1754 the saint arrived at Irkutsk. He went at first to the Ascension monastery – the place of residence of his predecessor, and prayed at the grave of bishop Innokentii (Kul'chitz), imploring his blessing on his impending task.      Having familiarised himself with the state of affairs in the diocese, the saint set about the re-organisation of the Spiritual consistory, monasteries and parishes, and turned to the Holy Synod with an appeal to dispatch worthy people for priestly service to the Irkutsk eparchy.      Before the arrival of Sainted Sophronii, the Irkutsk monasteries had already a century-old history. The founders of these monasteries were motivated by a fervent desire for ascetic monastic life. The sagacious sainted-bishop appointed as heads of the monastic communities people of piety, wisdom, virtue, and with great experience both of life and things spiritual. In 1754 His Grace Sophronii raised up his friend and companion priestmonk Synesii to be archimandrite of Ascension monastery. This memorable monastic head served the monastery for thirty-three years until his blessed end. In September 1754 the sainted-bishop issued an ukaz (decree), in which concern was noted for the education and upbringing of the children of clergy. By his ukaz to the clergy he considered as a duty the education of their children in the Chasoslov, the Psalter, singing and letters, and this instruction "ought to happen with all industriousness and extremest diligence, so that the children might be able to accomplish the responsibilities of sacristan and deacon according to their due ability".      Studying closely both people and circumstances, the sainted-bishop in his sermons and conversations incessantly exhorted all to an higher moral ideal. He devoted particular attention to the reverent and correct doing of Divine-services and priestly Sacraments, and he also watched after the moral purity of laymen; he was concerned about the position of women in the family, and defended them against their unjust inequality. The sainted-bishop attempted everywhere to set straight the ustav (rule) of Divine-services, for which purpose he summoned to himself priests, deacons, sub-deacons and sacristans, who during the time of hierarchical Divine-services participated in the choir or sub-deacons.      Journeying about the diocese, the saint noted that not everywhere was the proper attention given to the ringing of bells and incensing, and therefore by means of ukaz he restored the proper censing and ringing of bells.      Called to apostolic service in this frontier region, Sainted Sophronii realised, that in addition to the enlightening of believing christians, it availed him to bring to the faith idol-worshippers, who were very numerous in Siberia.      To bring pagans to the Church of Christ was difficult, especially since from time to time there was no one to serve in churches, and to borrow for missionary activity made matters all the worse. Knowing how that the hierarchical Divine-services would have a salutary effect on non-Russians, the saint not only himself served with reverence, but also required it of all his clergy.      Sainted Sophronii concerned himself over the manner of life of the lesser nations and he contributed to the developement of a stable culture among the local people. He offered them monastic lands for settlements and in every way he endeavoured to isolate them from the influence of paganism. A throng of visitors constantly arrived and came from faraway places for a blessing.      But amidst his many cares, he did not forget about his inner spiritual life and eternity – he also led an ascetic life. There is preserved an account about this from the cell-attendant of Sainted Sophronii, which relates, that the saint "used food simple and in small quantity, he served quite often, spent the greater part of the night at prayer, slept on the floor under a sheepskin or if fur – a deerskin or bear hide, and a small simple pillow – this was all his bedding for a sleep of short duration".      The spirit of his ascetic life fit in with the general uplift of the Christian spirit in Russia following the glorification of Sainted Dimitrii of Rostov (Comm. 21 September), Theodosii of Chernigov (Comm. 9 September), and in particular the uncovering of the undecayed relics of his predecessor – Sainted Innokentii of Irkutsk (Comm. 9 February). This event inspired Sainted Sophronii with greater strength and encouraged his hope for the help of Sainted Innokentii in his task of building up the diocese.      Until the end of his days Sainted Sophronii kept his love for the Krasnogorsk Zolotonoshsk monastery, which had nurtured him in the days of his youth. He constantly contributed support for its upkeep, sending off the necessary means for this.      Having sensed a deterioration in his health, Sainted Sophronii made a petition to the Synod to discharge him for rest. But they tarried with an answer from Peterburg, since it was difficult to immediately choose a worthy successor.      The final days in the life of Sainted Sophronii were spent in prayerful asceticism.      The light, which shone on the good deeds of Sainted Sophronii, continues to the present to testify to the glory of the Heavenly Father, "mercifully having strengthened His saints". And now not only in Siberia at the place of his final deeds, but also at the place of his first deeds, there is reverently preserved the holy memory of Sainted Sophronii.      A second commemoration of Sainted Sophronii is made on 30 June (glorification, 1918).
© 1996-2001 by translator Fr. S. Janos
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Isaiah 37:33-38:6
33 “Therefore thus says the Lord concerning the king of Assyria: ‘He shall not come into this city, Nor shoot an arrow there, Nor come before it with shield, Nor build a siege mound against it.
34By the way that he came, By the same shall he return; And he shall not come into this city,’ Says the Lord.
35 For I will defend this city, to save it For My own sake and for My servant David’s sake.’ ”
36 Then the angels of the Lord went out, and killed in the camp of the Assyrians one hundred and eighty-five thousand; and when people arose early in the morning, there were the corpses—all dead.
37 So Sennacherib king of Assyria departed and went away, returned home, and remained at Nineveh.
38 Now it came to pass, as he was worshiping in the house of Nisroch his god, that his sons Adrammelech and Sharezer struck him down with the sword; and they escaped into the land of Ararat. Then Esarhaddon his son reigned in his place.
1 In those days Hezekiah was sick and near death. And Isaiah the prophet, the son of Amoz, went to him and said to him, “Thus says the Lord: ‘Set your house in order, for you shall die and not live.’ ”
2 Then Hezekiah turned his face toward the wall, and prayed to the Lord,
3 and said, “Remember now, O Lord, I pray, how I have walked before You in truth and with a loyal heart, and have done what is good in Your sight.” And Hezekiah wept bitterly.
4 And the word of the Lord came to Isaiah, saying,
5 “Go and tell Hezekiah, ‘Thus says the Lord, the God of David your father: “I have heard your prayer, I have seen your tears; surely I will add to your days fifteen years.
6 “I will deliver you and this city from the hand of the king of Assyria, and I will defend this city.” 
Proverbs 14:27-15:4 
27 The fear of the Lord is a fountain of life, To turn one away from the snares of death.
28 In a multitude of people is a king’s honor, But in the lack of people is the downfall of a prince.
29 He who is slow to wrath has great understanding, But he who is impulsive exalts folly.
30 A sound heart is life to the body, But envy is rottenness to the bones.
31 He who oppresses the poor reproaches his Maker, But he who honors Him has mercy on the needy.
32 The wicked is banished in his wickedness, But the righteous has a refuge in his death.
33 Wisdom rests in the heart of him who has understanding, But what is in the heart of fools is made known.
34 Righteousness exalts a nation, But sin is a reproach to any people.
35 The king’s favor is toward a wise servant, But his wrath is against him who causes shame.
1 A soft answer turns away wrath, But a harsh word stirs up anger.
2 The tongue of the wise uses knowledge rightly, But the mouth of fools pours forth foolishness.
3 The eyes of the Lord are in every place, Keeping watch on the evil and the good.
4 A wholesome tongue is a tree of life, But perverseness in it breaks the spirit.
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we-are-monk · 4 years
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Monk Weapons: Glaive
Another monk weapon monks aren’t naturally proficient in, but I think it’s important. Not all monks are D&D characters after all. The basic polearm concept of “sword on a stick” is ubiquitous in cultures with metal bladed weapons. The bill, voulge, the Thai ngao, and swordstaff are examples, but let’s look to East Asia as we so often do with the monk.
The guandao, or yanyuedao( 偃月刀 ) is one of the iconic weapons of Chinese martial arts. Resembling a heavy curved dao sword on a heavy halberd shaft, the weapon was supposedly created by the general of the Three Kingdoms Period, Guan Yu. A man whose size, prowess, skill and honor made him a God of War, his weapon was called the Green Dragon Crescent Blade and said to weigh 40 pounds. At least, in the famous Romance of the Three Kingdoms it does. A real yanyuedao does not weigh anything like that much, but the weapon is one of the heaviest of the traditional weapons and wielding one in a single hand like Guan Yu makes you a mighty warrior indeed. A yanyuedao user, like any two handed weapon fighter, is a strongman, able to break shields and cleave through foes. He may also be a horseman:like Guan Yu, users of this weapon can ride down their foes. These aren’t traditional monk roles, but a multiclass, alternate archetype/subclass, or a less D&D based Chinese warrior can use this weapon to great effect. If you are looking for less “general” and more “temple warrior” flavor, the yanyuedao is also practiced at Shaolin. It is a weapon for a fierce monk who is not afraid to slaughter, a weapon better suited for leading the charge into battle than for tournaments or self-defense. Shaolin notwithstanding it suits a secular character a bit more than it does a priestly one.
The naginata,  薙刀, resembles nothing more than a katana on a stick. This weapon rose to prominence in the wars that ended the Heian period for much the same reason most polearms do - a rise in cavalry tactics demands answers. The naginata is used by samurai and by ashigaru footsoldiers but it is most associated with two groups: onna-bugeisha, women warriors, and sohei, warrior monks. For warrior women, samurai wives and the like, they need to contend with big armored men as potential enemies, and a polearm helps to even the odds and negate the disadvantage of superior reach and upper body strength (the same way it does against cavalry, or against anything really. Polearms rule.) It was (most appropriately) also a famous weapon of the warrior monks, used by such figures as Musashibou Benkei, the famous Heian period warrior monk who swore a vow to collect the swords of foes crossing his bridge (and got a 999 sword streak.) This weapon has a a strong enough association with monks to make me wonder why it wasn’t included as a default. Sohei are the devoted warriors of a temple, and often fight in massed battles to defend from attacking samurai, engage in rebellions, or to fight other temples. A monk armed with one of these is absolutely willing to kill over scripture.
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Dial-a-priest (2/2)
A man slips his phone number into our favourite Fleabag’s back pocket, but it turns out to be a wrong number, connecting her directly to a priest. Chapter 2 of 2. Click here to read Chapter 1. Also on ao3.
"Is this the part where you ask me what I'm wearing?"
"What are you wearing?"
He looked down at himself. "Pyjamas."
"It's 7PM."
"They're comfy."
One night when he was just settling down with a cup of tea and another book, his phone rang.
"Hi," he said when he picked up.
"Hello, Father," said her voice at the other end of the line. English accent, a bit posh, wryly amused.
"You make voice calls? I thought you were a millennial."
"I'm old school. You're Irish."
"I know."
"I should have known. I was curious."
"Is this the part where you ask me what I'm wearing?"
"What are you wearing?"
He looked down at himself. "Pyjamas."
"It's 7PM."
"They're comfy."
"Aren't you going to ask me what I'm wearing?"
"OK, but we're not having phone sex."
"I'm wearing the world's least comfortable cocktail dress and about three rolls of tit tape."
"Do I want to know what tit tape is?"
"Probably not. I went to a bar again."
Interesting. "Why?"
"I don't know. The last time I talked to someone in a bar he clearly thought I was in dire need of the phone number of an Irish Catholic priest."
"What did you say to him?"
"I think I was probably charming. I usually am."
He chuckled. "You're not wrong. Did you have a good time?"
"No. Someone grabbed my arse and I left. Didn't even have a drink."
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"Usually I would have ended up going home with him. I didn't want that. I think I just wanted to... make a friend?"
"Do you have other friends? Family?"
"Not really. My sister lives in Finland half the time. I haven't talked to her in a long time. Do you have a sister?"
"No. Why haven't you talked to her?"
"She thinks I tried to shag her husband, which is patently ridiculous because her husband is loathsome."
The urge to give priestly advice was too difficult to overcome. "Why don't you try calling her? If it's been a while, she might be glad to hear from you."
"I guess. Do you have a brother?"
"Yes. Why does she think you tried to fuck her husband?"
"Are you close with your brother?"
He laughed. "No. You didn't answer my question."
"Why aren't you close with your brother?"
"Come on."
"I fucked my best friend's boyfriend and then she walked into traffic and that's why she's dead," she said in a rush. He could hear the wince in her voice.
"Fuck."
"So when I told my sister that her husband tried to kiss me on her birthday and he told her that it was the other way around, she chose to believe that slimy bastard instead of me."
He took a long moment to digest this new information before responding. "You're walking around with a lot of pain inside you, aren't you?" he said gently, his heart aching in sympathy.
"Yeah, but..."
"What?"
"I just..."
"What?"
"It's my fault," she said simply. "All of it, I caused it. That's why I'm trying... to be better. I don't want to do that any more."
"Everyone makes mistakes."
She huffed a laugh. "That's why they put rubbers on the end of pencils."
"I like that."
"You can have it for free. My next witticism will be priced on a sliding scale."
"You're funny."
"For the right price."
Unknown number: I texted my sister
Unknown number: we're going to have coffee
"I think I might be going crazy," he said without preamble when she picked up the phone.
"Well, you do have bats in the belfry."
"They're in the attic, and that's a bit of a sore spot at the moment, so fuck off."
"Why do you think you're going crazy?"
"OK so I was on a train."
"Yes?"
"We were delayed at East Croydon and I looked out the window."
"Sane so far, continue."
"There was a fucking fox! In the window! It was looking right at me! Nobody else seemed to notice it but I know I saw it."
"That's not outside the realms of possibility. There are a lot of foxes about."
He shuddered. "Don't remind me. But it was looking right at me. Right in my eyes."
"You're cute, why wouldn't it look at you?"
"We were there for half an hour and it didn't stop staring at me!"
"Why were you at East Croydon for half an hour?"
"Southern Rail."
"Ah, I take it back. Southern Rail? You are completely insane."
"Fuck you." He paused, backtracking a few sentences in the conversation. "Wait, I'm cute?"
"Goodnight, Father."
"Uh, goodnight then, I guess."
"Don't let the foxes bite."
"You don't need to tell me twice."
After a few weeks of this, he was ready to admit that theirs was the closest friendship he had.
She knew that he was really grateful for Pam's help but that he also found her annoying nearly all the time. She knew about his parents, and his brother, and his weird cousin who kept sending him conspiracy theories on Facebook. She knew about the puns he made in the parish newsletter, and she knew where he hid the G&Ts.
He knew about her dead best friend, and her family, and the way her guinea pig was kind of a jerk sometimes. He knew that she tended to call late at night or just after the lunch rush was over. He even looked up her café online (there weren't that many guinea pig-themed cafés in the world, it turned out) and it was only a few streets away.
Which was a total fucking disaster.
He was a priest, for fuck's sake. He'd made a vow to love only God and to love God's people as a father, and most certainly not to pin beautiful, witty, acerbic women to the nearest flat surface and kiss them until he can't breathe.
It was imperative that they never meet in person. He was careful not to tell her which church was his, never to mention local shops and restaurants. He very conscientiously avoided going within a mile of the café.
There was no way they were ever going to meet, and he'd nearly convinced himself that it was a good thing.
The priest was leafing through the hymnals to see which ones needed to be replaced and trying very hard not to think about his problems, when he noticed one of the Youthie Band loitering in the doorway.
"Hi Jake," he called. "Are you alright?"
"I forgot my bassoon," he said in a mournful tone. "My aunt is bringing it."
Strange kid, but probably harmless. "Oh, fun. How are your bassoon lessons going?"
Jake trained his attention on someone over the priest's shoulder, ignoring the question entirely.
"Where's Claire?" he asked plaintively.
"Hi, Jake," said a woman's voice, strangely familiar. "She didn't want to come with me because she thinks you're creepy."
"What?"
"I'm joking, she's at work."
The priest turned around to greet the new arrival (and possibly to stand up for Jake, although his creepiness was undeniable and probably deserved to be addressed), and his heart just about stopped. Standing before him was the physical manifestation of his ungodly desires made flesh, walking around as though his world wasn't about to explode.
"Here's your clarinet," she said, handing Jake the case.
"It's a bassoon," he protested.
"It's a birth control device."
"You must be Jake's aunt," said the priest, regaining the ability to speak.
"Step-aunt," she corrected, turning to him. She gave a little start when she made eye contact but other than that managed to maintain her composure. "Hello, Father," she said with a smirk, holding out her hand.
He shook it, noticing distantly that her slender hand had a firm grip. "So Claire's your sister?" he managed, drinking in the sight of her, even more lovely in reality, a walking temptation.
A complicated series of emotions flashed across her face, all of which he could actually decipher given all of their long conversations about her family situation - and isn't that weird? Being able to completely read someone when you're meeting them in person for the first time?
"Yeah, Claire's my sister."
Jake made a little squeaking sound on hearing the word "Claire", making the priest remember that he was still standing there.
"Do you have a rehearsal to get to, Jake?" he prompted gently.
Jake nodded and walked away without a word.
"OK, good talk," said the priest to Jake's retreating back. He turned back to her, suddenly nervous. "Hi."
"Hi."
"Uh, welcome to my church. Do you like tea?"
In answer, she gave him an incredulous look and made a bee-line for the third pew from the back of the church, bending over to retrieve the cache of G&Ts that he'd mentioned in passing the other day.
"I'd think we need something stronger than tea given the situation, don't you?" she said, throwing one to him.
He fumbled to catch the can and dropped it on the floor inelegantly with a few murmured curses.
"Now I think of it, I remember you mentioning that you were bad at sports," she said with an apologetic grimace.
He picked up the can and opened it gingerly, took a large and restorative swig, then ushered her into a side room for some privacy. They perched on rickety folding chairs opposite each other, and she stared into his eyes, studying him in a way that made him feel uncomfortably exposed.
"So you live ten minutes from my café," she stated flatly. He nodded. "Did you know this the whole time?"
He winced. "I figured it out a few weeks ago. I can't, I'm sorry, I didn't want to intrude," he lied. He had wanted to intrude, in so many ways.
She shrugged, amenably accepting his explanation. "I just assumed you lived in Ireland. I didn't know we still had Catholics here."
"We send a few over every year as a punishment for when you enslaved our whole country."
They laughed together, such an easy connection, and his fingers itched with the urge to grab her and kiss her.
"The photos didn't do you justice," she said, giving him a thorough and obvious once-over. The blood thrummed in his veins as his eyes drifted down her body in return.
He sucked in a breath and tried very hard to keep his cool.
"You're the single most beautiful human being I've ever seen, and the fact that you're in my church right now is ruining my fucking life," he blurted out.
Fuck.
She softened visibly and stood up, draining the rest of her drink. "I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to do. We can just talk on the phone." She was watching him with immense gentleness, seeing right through into his very soul. "I like talking to you. It's OK."
"Fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that, I don't want to send you away, I just-" He stood up, rubbing his temples with one hand. "I like talking to you, too," he said softly, looking utterly lost.
She crossed the room and took his face in her hands, bringing their foreheads to rest together. "I'm glad I met you," she whispered, slipping her fingers to card through his hair. He leaned into the touch like a needy cat and let out a shuddering breath.
She pulled away to press a chaste kiss to his forehead, getting ready to leave, and something inside him snapped. He backed her up against the crumbling brick wall, and finally let himself taste the ruby-red lips that had been whispering in his ear for weeks. She made a pleased noise and kissed him back, her arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.
"Are you sure?" she asked as they broke for air.
"I'm sure," he panted, hiking up her legs to wrap around his waist, and let the life he'd built crash down around them.
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pengychan · 5 years
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[Coco] Nuestra Iglesia, Pt. 12
Title: Nuestra Iglesia Summary: Fake Priest AU. In the midst of the Mexican Revolution, Santa Cecilia is still a relatively safe place; all a young orphan named Miguel has to worry about is how to get novices Héctor and Imelda to switch their religious vows for wedding vows before it’s too late. He’s not having much success until he finds an unlikely ally in their new parish priest, who just arrived from out of town. Fine, so Padre Ernesto is a really odd priest. He’s probably not even a real priest, and the army-issued pistol he carries is more than slightly worrying. But he agrees that Héctor and Imelda would be wasted on religious life, and Miguel will take all the help he can get. It’s either the best idea he’s ever had, or the worst. Characters: Miguel Rivera, Ernesto de la Cruz, Héctor Rivera, Imelda Rivera, Chicharrón, Óscar and Felipe Rivera, OCs. Imector. Rating: T
[Tag with all chapters up here.]
[Also on Ao3]
A/N: Well, not all secrets stay secret forever. Art by @senoraluna.
***
“What, pray tell, the fuck.”
If doctor Sanchéz found Ernesto’s outburst unbecoming of a priest, he didn’t bother to point it out. The crazy gringo would probably have protested, except that he was currently out cold on the bed, leaning on his stomach, back exposed - which was precisely what had prompted the less than priestly comment.
His back was a complete, absolute mess: a criss-cross of old faded scars and newer ones, covered in recent wounds at various stages of healing, all welts and scabs and broken skin  oozing fluids here and there. Ernesto wasn’t a doctor any more than he was a priest, but he could recognize the signs of infection when he saw them.
“Not the worst I’ve seen,” doctor Sanchéz muttered, and well, Ernesto could second that. He’d seen men whipped raw with riding crops as punishment in the military, hard enough to carve out bits of flesh - but this was still bad and, well, entirely self-inflicted.
“That looks like infection.”
“I noticed, thanks,” the doctor said just a bit too curtly, reaching for his bag and pulling out a bottle of alcohol, clean towels, and some iodine. “I’ll see to that. You should see that he stops this madness, because if he keeps at it some disinfectant is not going to be enough.”
I thought I had seen to it, Ernesto thought, but said nothing. He just stepped back to let doctor Sanchéz do his job, and recoiled when something tapped his shoulder-- a whip. And, holding that whip, was Sofía.
“Here it is,” she muttered. “Keep it away from him.”
“... Right.” Ernesto took it, and noticed it was spotless - not a single speck of blood.
He cleans it after each use. Of course he would, he thought, and suddenly felt sick. He glanced to the bed John was resting on, eyes shut and skin pale even against the white pillow. He’d found it so amusing, being the only one to know Padre Juan’s secret… but now it wasn’t funny anymore. As doctor Sanchéz began to clean the wounds with alcohol, he barely twitched; his breath caught in his throat, but he did not regain consciousness or open his eyes.
“How did you know he was doing… this?”
Sofía shrugged. “I was keeping an eye on him, and I knew he had a whip. No one screams that hard and faints for a pat on the back,” she muttered, then glanced at him, somewhat inquisitive. “You didn’t know?”
“No.”
“Did he tell you nothing? Like in confessions, or…?”
It’s not enough, never enough! I deserve-- I need-- I tried! I tried every prayer, every penance!
Ernesto tried to ignore the weight in his stomach, like he’d swallowed lead. Could he have noticed something, if he’d looked? He remembered joking with Héctor that the gringo must have a rod up his ass once, because he sat so upright his back rarely did touch the backrest. The real explanation was… nowhere as fun.
“Padre Ernesto?” Sofía called out,
“... He didn’t mention self-flagellation,” he finally said.
“The correct answer, by the way, would be that the secret of confession is sacred.’
“Oh, give me a break. I’m not telling you what he confessed, just what he did not confess. He didn’t come to me telling me he was self-flagellating in his spare time.”
“Any clue as to why he’s done this?”
No penance? But how else am I to heal this perversion?
He could tell her, he knew. She kept her mouth shut when it mattered and, given how she and several of her Sisters usually spent their nights - “Can’t wait for Lent to be over with so that Antonia is available again,” she’d said - Ernesto knew she was on no high ground to pass judgment. No higher than his own, at any rate; somehow, though, he doubted the approval of a fake priest and a less than chaste nun would be of much comfort to Father John.
“... The secret of confession is sacred,” he finally said, gaining himself an elbow in his ribs.
“Really no--” she began, but a look at his face made her trail off. Ernesto wasn’t sure what she saw in his expression-- don’t think of the barracks don’t think of the barracks -- but at any rate, it made her fall silent. That or the presence of the doctor, who was focusing on Padre Juan’s back but was still well within earshot.
“... Fair,” she conceded, then, “What are we going to tell everyone?”
“That I can’t control my miraculous strength and am very sorry I hurt him.”
“Idiota.”
“Show some respect to the parish priest.”
“Cabrón.”
“Please, don’t mind me. I did not just hear any of that,” doctor Sanchéz announced, then he put the bottle of iodine on the nightstand, took his bag, and stood from the chair. On the bed, Father John was still unconscious; his devastated back was covered in a layer of yellowish iodine.
“I gave him a sedative, so he should be out for a while longer. When he wakes up, make sure he stays down like this. No clothes on his back, no sheets, absolutely no bandages unless he wants to deal with iodine burns on top of everything else. Let the wounds breathe. You may hit him over the head,” he added, turning. “For therapeutic purposes.”
Sofía smiled. “I’ll make sure to administer the medication as prescribed,” she muttered, and Ernesto smiled a little as well. Truth be told, he may just smack that idiot in the head himself when he woke up. With no therapeutic intents whatsoever.
“I’ll be back in the morning,” the doctor kept going. “It’s best if someone stays with him through the night, to make sure he doesn’t turn around in his sleep. Or does something stupid when awake.”
“... Of course. About that, huh--”
“If asked, I’ll say he had a neglected wound on his back that got infected,” doctor Sanchéz cut him off. “No offense, but I don’t think anyone would believe you have such Herculean strength to reduce men unconscious by patting their back.”
“None taken,” Ernesto muttered, taking just a little offense. He was rather sure at least some people would belive it. The children, maybe.
“Good. Now, I don’t wish to lie-- but a little omission is not quite a lie.”
“I like the way you think.”
“Gracias. I’ll leave some painkillers here, in case it’s needed.”
After a few more thanks, as Sofía saw the doctor out, Ernesto sighed and sat down on the chair by the bed, looking down at the unconscious gringo on it. He frowned even in his sleep, but at least he was resting and couldn’t fuck himself up any worse for time being.
And when Ernesto uttered a slew of insults he did so under his breath, so not to wake him up.
***
“So, what happened with Padre Ju-- John?”
“Padre Ernesto is so freakishly strong, he broke his back with one pat.”
“He did not!”
“... He’d be very disappointed to know you didn’t believe it for a second,” Sofía muttered, causing Miguel to cross his arms. Truth be told, for a moment he’d… not really believed it, but could have almost contemplated it. It had been so sudden and downright scary, the scream and the way his knees had given in, and he didn’t know what to think.
“So what happened?” Imelda asked. Her arms were crossed over her chest, too, and beside her Héctor looked… a little pale. Cheech was sitting on a chair entirely backwards, and looked like he couldn’t care less either way. And Gustavo… well, as the sexton he should at least be present, but come to think of it Miguel hadn’t seen him around in the past few hours. He seemed to spend a lot of time away, lately.
“An infected wound on his back,” Sofía said with a shrug. “Padre Ernesto didn’t know it was there, struck it, and that hurt. Now, Miguel-- you go back to the celebrations, sí? You can tell everyone who asks that Padre Juan is doing well.”
“Who asked?” Felipe piped in, turning to Óscar, who shrugged.
“No one did.”
As annoying and patronizing as Padre Juan could get, hearing that still made Miguel feel bad. He wasn’t all bad: when he’d asked to be called Miguel had agreed, and… and…
“You know what Saint Michael Archangel did?”
“He chased the devil away from heaven.”
“My younger brother loved that passage. His name was Michael, too. I read it to him very often.”
“I asked,” he protested, frowning. Ernesto, he thought, Ernesto would tell him what was going on; he could tell Sofía wanted him to get out of there before telling the others more. “Where is Padre Ernesto?”
“He’s staying with Padre Juan.”
“Can I see him?”
“Miguel,” Imelda spoke, her voice firm, and put a hand on his shoulder. “You go back outside, and leave this to us.”
“But--”
“Óscar, Felipe, you too.”
“Ay, but Imelda--”
“It wasn’t a request, muchachos.”
They walked back outside to sunlight and celebrations, but Miguel found he couldn’t enjoy any of it the way Óscar and Felipe and all the kids did. He stood some distance away, kicking the dirt, until something suddenly slammed into him, sending him sprawling on the ground.
“Ooof!”
“Woof!”
“Aw, Dante!”
A slobbery lick to his face and Dante was off again, running around the parish. Miguel finally laughed and gave chase, around a corner and then another… only to suddenly stop when he saw Dante on his back on the ground, tail wagging and tongue flailing.
And just above him, an open window leading back inside the parish.
***
“You know they’re going to get you in the end, don’t you?”
The voice that rang out was raspier than it used to be, coming from a throat full of sand. Ernesto knew who it was; he didn’t need, nor want, to turn. He knew who was there with him, sitting at the desk at the other end of the room, and he knew he was putting two glasses down on in.
He shouldn’t have been able to know any of it without looking but, then again, neither should he have been there. None of it made sense, and yet he felt no surprise. No dread. No fear, but he knew that wasn’t long in coming.
Ernesto spoke staring down at John Johnson’s motionless form. “You’re dead.”
“And soon you’ll join me. Isn't that great?” Alberto gave a gravelly laugh. There was a sound of sloshing liquid, something being poured in the glasses. “They’re scouring Mexico as we speak. It’s only a matter of time.”
“I was only a soldier. I heard a whole Regiment revolted since I left. They can’t be looking that hard for me.” He could smell something overpowering the scent of iodine now, tequila and gunpowder and blood. On the bed, Padre Juan was even paler than usual. Too pale. Dead.
“Oh, but they only need to stumble on you. Someone who has seen your face, and that will be the end. No one here will risk their neck to defend you. You lied to them all.”
That was true, he knew it, but oh did he hate the thought. He shook his head. “Héctor would--”
“And then Federales would turn on this town, for hiding you. Give away an imposter to save their own. It’s not a hard choice, Nesto. Even for those of them who wouldn’t shoot you on sight if they knew the truth.” The creak of a chair’s backrest being leaned onto, or that of stiff sinews. A glass was put down. “You’re starting to feel comfortable. That’s when they get you. I would know - I was comfortable around you. Join me before they come. Leave on your own terms.”
Chicharrón convinced Padre Edmundo to buy a lot of rat poison, Gustavo has said. So we have a lot of wine and a lot of poison, stored next to each other.
“Come on. Have a drink.”
“No.” Ernesto clenched his fists, gaze still fixed on Father John Johnson’s lifeless face. His eyes were beginning to sink into the flesh, skin gray. His back oozed blood. “That won’t be how I die.”
“Why not? That’s how rats die.”
“I’m not a rat. I’m just trying to survive.”
“A runaway dog, then. A bullet may be best, that’s how you end a rabid dog. You still have the pistol hidden away in your room. You can use it on yourself like you used it on the boy.”
Ernesto opened his mouth, but no words came out. It was as though all air had been blown out of his lungs. With the mind’s eye, he could see Miguel grinning up at him. You’re not a real priest, he’d said, and then, as Ernesto found himself thinking of ways to silence him for good…
You’re a good guy.
“No,” he rasped. He’d thought about it, yes, but… “I did not. I didn’t do it. Didn’t have to.”
“Are you sure?” Alberto’s voice had dropped to a whisper. “Are you really, really sure?”
He was sure, yes-- wasn’t he? His memory was hazy. He’d… considered it, but then the boy…
“Ernesto?” Miguel’s voice called out somewhere on his left, causing Ernesto to still, blood freezing in his veins. It sounded so distant and hollow, like the ring of a death knell.
“No. No, I--” he tried, and words died in his mouth. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. He could only sit, staring at the gringo’s corpse on the bed as the floorboard creaked, closer and closer.
“Padre,” Miguel called again, and cold, dead fingers closed around his wrist like a vise.
***
“No!”
“Gah! Ern-- Padre, it’s just m--”
“I didn’t-- I didn’t-- ”
“Hey, careful!”
Thud.
Under Miguel’s stunned gaze, Ernesto - who had jerked awake and up like a puppet on a spring the second he’d touched his wrist, snatching his arm from his grasp and trying to back away only to stumble on the chair he’d been sleeping onto - fell back on the floor with a yelp, dragging the chair with him.
On the bed, Father John’s eyelids twitched a moment at the bang, but he didn’t wake up; something Miguel would have been relieved to see, if he’d been looking at all. At the moment his full attention was on the man on a heap on the floor, still shaking, looking up at him with wide eyes like some of the other children in the orphanage did sometimes, after a very bad dream. That expression was so far removed from anything he’d ever seen of Ernesto, it made a shiver run down his spine.
“... Miguel,” Ernesto muttered after a few moments of silence, and let out a long breath. “Don’t ever do that again. You, uh…”
“Scared the crap out of you?”
“Startled me,” Ernesto corrected him just a little pointedly before standing up, brushing his cassock and drawing in and out another deep breath. “Why-- what are you sneaking up on me for?” he added, brushing back his hair.
Miguel frowned, crossing his arms. “I didn’t sneak on you! I just tried to wake you up.”
“And why are you here in the first place?”
“I found an open window.”
“That’s the answer to how, not why.”
“I wanted to check on Padre Ju-- John,” Miguel replied. He turned to look at the man in question - really look at him - for the first time since stepping in, and… and… “What… what happened to him?” he managed, his voice thin. Sofía had talked about an infected wound, but what he saw there was a ruin. It was wound upon wound upon wound, and beneath the iodine he could hardly see any healthy skin left. It reminded him, vividly, of pictures he had seen of Jesus after flagellation.
He stared, numb and incredulous, as Ernesto slowly put a hand on his shoulder. “He’s resting now, the doctor sedated him. Get back out and--”
“Who… who did this to him?”
“... No one did, niño.”
The thing that had just begun to replace the horror - a reassuring anger - sputtered and died, leaving him with only confusion at first and then an even bigger sort of horror. Why would any man do a such thing to himself? He couldn’t begin to wrap his mind around it. It was incomprehensible. “He-- he didn’t!”
“Miguel, you shouldn’t be--”
“Why?” He turned to look up at Ernesto, reeling, looking for an answer. The other adults wouldn’t tell him, Héctor would try to spare him, but surely he would tell him how it was. He knew he could be trusted with the truth. “Why did he do it?”
“... For penance.”
“Over what?”
“I can’t tell you. It was confess--”
“That doesn’t matter! It’s not like it was a real confession!”
“Miguel--”
“You’re not even a real prie--”
“Enough!” He moved so quickly Miguel had no time to even realize it, no time to react: one moment he was standing by the wall and the next he was pinned against it, a hand around his throat, tight enough to cut off all air. He looked up, stunned, to see Ernesto’s features twisted in… anger? Terror? Both? Whatever it was, it turned into something closer to horror before Miguel’s surprise had the time to morph into fear. The hand on his throat was gone the next moment, and Ernesto crouched in front of him, grasping both of his shoulders.
“Don’t,” he hissed, his grip tight. “It could get me killed, Miguel. You must never say it aloud again, do you understand? Don’t make me-- remind you again.”
The last few words were almost choked out, and for a fleeting moment Miguel wondered what he’d really been about to say. For that one moment, he wondered how much he really knew about the man before him, the musician turned soldier, then fugitive, then priest. A fake priest. What else about him was a lie?
It was a terrifying thought, and Miguel chose to shut it out. He swallowed, still feeling a tightness in his throat, and nodded slowly. It occurred to him that he’d never seen a grown man looking so scared, maybe save that one time he’d fallen off a tree and Héctor had rushed to him as he lay on the ground, all breath knocked out of him.
“Sorry,” he whispered. He found he couldn’t make himself speak any louder than that, but it must have been enough for Ernesto, because he flinched and let go of him like he’d caught fire. He stood, brushing his cassock again, then cleared his throat.
“... It’s all right, muchacho. Go outside-- I’ll deal with everything here.”
The room felt so small, Miguel was all too eager to be out; in the back of his mind there was an irrational fear that Ernesto would grab him again before he made it to the door, but he did not; when Miguel stopped at the doorway and turned back, he was sitting on the chair, hunched slightly forward and giving him his back. He hesitated, then he spoke again, quietly.
“Maybe it wouldn’t get you killed. Actually, I’m… almost sure it wouldn’t. Héctor would never. He’d help you.”
“... That’s nice to know, niño.”
“I’m serious.”
“And I believe you.” Ernesto spoke without speaking, still sitting at Father John’s bedside. “But not everyone is like him.”
“People here like you. And-- everyone knows people are forced into the Federal Army, and you left. They would protect you. Most of them.”
“But not all. And loose lips sink ships.” A long, heavy sigh. “Keep quiet about it, Miguel, and all will be well.”
Miguel opened his mouth to argue, but then something - a tenseness in Ernesto’s shoulders - made him change his mind. “... All right,” he murmured, and ran back to the window to go outside, away from the tiny room, the two men in it, and the secrets they hid.
***
“... All right. Now that it’s just the three of us, has either of you got the slightest clue as to what may be the gringo’s issue? Because Padre Ernesto does, but he babbles about the secret of confession when I ask.”
“As he should, given he’s the parish priest,” Imelda muttered. Sofía seemed to take absolutely no notice of her remark, and just put down three glasses half-filled with wine. Imelda took hers and gulped down a mouthful. “Besides, you are the one who searched his room.”
“And found nothing relevant. Héctor is the one who translated the letter, and it only said he’d been disowned from his family after he converted. Sucks to be him, but that can’t be the reason why he’s… doing… all right, what is that look?”
Héctor cringed a little when Sofía stared at him, and Imelda turned to do just the same. Grasping the glass of wine on the table before him so tightly his knuckles were turning white, he was well aware that he had to look all the world like a hare caught in a snare, looking at an approaching coyote.
“I, uh…” he tried to smile, showing off his missing front tooth, only for the two women to slowly glance at each other and then back at him.
“Héctor,” Imelda spoke, her voice velvet-clad iron. “Was that all the letter said.”
“Weeeell, technically… yes.”
“Technically.”
“It… it was really from his father, and he did sign as ‘Reverend Johnson’. So Father John must be a convert. And the letter was definitely to disown him - he wrote to them, but was rejected.”
Imelda stared at him; he could almost see the cogs in her mind working. “You didn’t lie.”
“No. No, I didn’t.”
“So what did you omit, Héctor?”
Ah, there it was. He swallowed, shifting on the seat. “It is nothing… nothing dangerous, or that anyone would have needed to know. I swear. I would have told you if…” he paused, and sighed. “You must promise me, this never leaves this room.”
“Depends on what this is.”
“It’s nothing we should concern ourselves about, and-- it could destroy him.”
“All the more reason to--”
“Sofía,” Imelda cut her off, her voice sharp, then turned back to him. There was something in her gaze that stung, something not too far away from a sense of betrayal, but she nodded, giving him a chance to explain. With a sigh, Héctor decided to do just that.
“... All right. That was really all that the letter said. But the place Father John kept it… in the Bible, well… it was on a page of Leviticus. One passage was underlined - 20:13. He underlined nothing else in the entire book, as far as I could see.”
None of them spoke for several moments, his words hanging in the air. Imelda kept staring at him, and he could see comprehension dawning on her face just as Sofía spoke.
“If a man sleeps with a man as with a woman, they have both committed a detestable act; they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them,” she quoted, and tilted her head. “Good thing it says nothing about two women.”
“Technically, in Paul’s letters to the Romans--”
“The Romans chopped off his head, so look how well that worked out,” Sofía cut her off, and turned back to Héctor. “Padre Juan, a maricón. Well, that explains... a lot.”
Yes, it certainly did: it explained why Father John Johnson punished himself in such a way and why Padre Ernesto - not someone all that strict when it came to rules - balked at the prospect of breaking the secret of his confession. Héctor sighed.
“I’m sorry I kept this from you. But I figured… well, it was of no relevance knowing why his family disowned him, and he’s beating himself up over it as it is - literally beating himself up,” he added, glancing at Imelda. Even in her surprise, she nodded. There was something on her face that seemed pity for a moment, then it was gone and her voice rang out, practical as always.
“No,” she agreed. “It’s of no relevance, and it will never leave this room. We have other concerns. Padre Ernesto can help him.”
“One way or another,” Sofía murmured.
“Sorry, what?”
She gave a bright smile. “Oh, nothing,” she said lightly, and stood to grab the bottle again, refilling the glasses. “Nothing at all.”
***
The first thing John realized when he finally regained consciousness was that it was… dark. Even after he opened his eyes, light was scarce; he could see a bare wall, and the shadows cast on it by the flickering light of a candle at his bedside. His back was burning.
It was confusing and somewhat terrifying, because he’d been standing in full daylight only moments earlier… hadn’t he? He remembered watching the effigy of Judas burn, the explosions; he had been saying something-- someone had replied, laughing, and then… then…
“Juan?”
The memory of searing pain in his back hit him the same moment he heard Father Ernest’s voice, the same moment he realized he was in his bed, his back bared, and panic closed his throat. “Wh-what is the meaning of-- what am I-- what are you--!” John choked out, heart hammering, ignoring the steady throb of his burning back. He tried to pull himself up, only to still when he realized that beneath the sheets pulled up to his waist he was bare. “Who…?”
“Hey, hey,” Father Ernest was saying, putting a hand on the back of his head to push him back down on the mattress. He almost fell back on it, head spinning, feeling faint. “Stay down.”
“Who-- who disrobed me?” John managed, his voice thin with dread. Oh God, it hadn’t been him, had it? He felt so mortified as things were; if he told him he’d been the one to take the cassock and shift off him, he may very well die of shame there and then. He reached down blindly to grab the sheets, to pull it up over his back.
“Doctor Sanchéz did, how else was he supposed-- no, no!” The sheets were snatched from his hand, and dropped back down across his waist. “He said not to cover the wounds.”
“A-avert your eyes!” John protested, but he didn’t dare reach down for the sheets again; part of him feared Father Ernesto would tear it off him entirely if he tried, and that was the very last thing his mind wanted to envision. He struggled to lift himself on his elbows, blood rushing in his ears. “What-- why am I here? Why are you here?”
Father Ernest scoffed. “You just went and fainted on us, Juan. The doctor told us to keep an eye on you.”
Us? Oh God, how many people have seen?
“That-- that was generous of you,” he choked out. “I’m-- better now. Apologies for fainting.”
“Apologies for-- are you serious, Juan?”
John swallowed, looking down at the pillow. He couldn’t even bring himself to correct him on his name, his voice too shaky to trust. “W-well, I'm-- good, so you-- you can be on your wa--”
“The wounds were infected. Were you planning to go on like this until we’d have to skip straight to the last rites?”
It’s not so bad. Can’t have been so bad. He’s trying to scare me, John thought, but there was a coldness in the pit of his stomach that refused to fade. He swallowed. “I--”
“Why did you do this?”
Good God, my child, who has done this to you?
Father’s Joseph’s voice, rang out in the back of John’s mind. It made him want to weep - so many years and miles away, still an abject sinner no holy man could help. Still, he held back.
“Its penance, for my sinful thoughts. Any self-respecting--”
“It’s suicide, idiota,” Father Ernest snapped, causing him to recoil. “Last I checked, that is a capital sin!”
“I didn’t mean to kill myself!”
“Are you really sure?”
Of course I’m sure,  he should tell him, only that words stayed stuck in his throat. No, he hadn’t consciously planned to end his life, but there had been moments when he’d thought that if he were to fall asleep and never awaken, then… then maybe…
No. No, no, no. “I can’t die,” he rasped. “I’d be cast in Hell if I died now, s-suicide or not.”
“Look, you shouldn’t have done… this. I gave no penance. I told you I was working on it--”
“And you did nothing.” John’s voice broke, and his eyes stung. He shut them, refusing to let himself weep. Not before him, he wouldn’t, not again.
“... Look, I’m thinking, all right? If you give me more time--”
“I don’t blame you,” he choked out. “There’s nothing you can do. I’ve been like this since I was a boy-- my will is as weak as my flesh. I came to save this parish and instead I am a taint upon it.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. At worst, you’re annoying. But look-- just let me have a think and--”
John didn’t listen to his words, they didn’t matter. Nothing he said could help him now. He shook his head, burrowing his face into the pillow. “I’ll leave Santa Cecilia come morning.”
“You-- what?”
“I’m unfit for my purpose here, and--” I can’t bear to be in your presence any longer “--I will write to my contacts in the States and send the photographs, so that the aid you need is sent here regardless. Then I will write to the archdiocese of Antequera once I leave, to be assigned somewhere else, and… and tell them you’re doing well here,” he added. He wasn’t sure if his letter of complaint about him had been received, as he never got a reply, but he felt that was the moment to make up for it. “They sent the right man. You have heart, experience will come--”
“Don’t!” Father Ernest almost yelled, causing him to recoil. He looked up, startled, to see that he looked… paler than usual. Even in the flickering, faint light of the candle, it was noticeable. He blinked up at him, and he cleared his throat. “Listen, you’re... not well enough to travel. In all, uh, conscience, I can’t let you leave.”
“I… I’m sure that in a couple of days…”
“Not until the doctor says you can,” Father Ernest spoke quickly and as much as he didn’t want to stay there, he… he could see the point. Slowly, John nodded, eyes downcast. He hadn’t expected Father Ernest to worry that much, but he tried not to dwell on it.
If he did… if he did, everything would be more complicated. “... I will listen to the doctor.”
A sigh of relief. “Good. Now get back to sleep.”
John hesitated. “You…”
“Someone’s got to stay through the night. Doctor’s orders. Not arguing with that guy.”
“One of the Sisters… or-- or Brother Hector...”
“I can’t sleep anyway,” Father Ernest replied, his voice oddly hollow. He sat back on the chair, and that was that. John leaned his head back on the pillow, shut his eyes, and did his best to ignore both the burning in his back and his presence.
One was easier to ignore than the other.
***
“Why the long face, kid?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Did the gringo die during the night?”
“Wha-- no!”
“Shame.”
“Cheech!”
As the old gravedigger snickered - a sound Juanita seemed to echo the sound, flapping his wings briefly - Miguel snorted and looked away. His fingers were still plucking the strings of the shiny new guitar Óscar and Felipe had made for him, but he didn’t really feel like playing, much less sing. It wasn’t as much fun without Héctor, anyway, and he was barely around those days.
Sitting back in his old chair, Chicharrón sighed.
“All right, all right. You don’t need to worry about him, muchacho. He’ll be fine.”
Of course he’d say that; he didn’t know that Miguel had seen the state his back was in. Cheech himself probably hadn’t seen it, so he didn’t know just how bad it really was, and now Miguel sorta wished he had accepted the explanation he was given and left it at that.
But he had not. He wanted to see for himself and now he was left with a gruesome sight that wouldn’t leave his mind, and something even worse - the nagging thought that he didn’t really know Ernesto all that well. He had saved him from drowning, he was fun, he could sing and play; he was willing to help him get Héctor and Imelda together and he was helping the town… but ultimately, Miguel knew nothing of him past the fact he’d escaped from the Federal army’s clutches. Or rather, he said he had escaped. Maybe he was still one of them and they sent him.
It can’t be. If he were, he would have killed me when he knew that I had found him out.
That was all true, but now he couldn’t stop thinking of the look on Ernesto’s face. For a moment, his hand around his throat, Miguel had almost thought he could, and would, do it.
You can’t trust Federales.
It could get me killed, Miguel. You must never say it aloud again, do you understand?
I’m… almost sure it wouldn’t. Héctor would never. He’d help you.
And he’d meant it. Héctor would never, Miguel thought again, strumming his guitar. He’d help.
And he knew how to keep a secret.
***
The gringo, Ernesto decided, was by far the worst thing that had ever happened to him. Or maybe not, but he was comfortably in the top five at the very least and clearly determined to climb up the podium. He’d been a pain in the ass since he’d arrived, and the fact he planned to leave should have been amazing news.
Except that of course Padre Juan had to find a way to turn that into a nightmare, too. The prospect he could write to la arquidiócesis de Antequera after leaving, mentioning him, was pretty damn concerning. He didn’t mind some photos of his being sent to some contact he had in the States, who wouldn’t have the slightest clue who the parish priest of Santa Cecilia, a little to the left of nowhere, was supposed to be; but a letter talking about him to what was probably the very archdiocese that sent a different priest and would damn well know it? No señor, he couldn’t let it happen. His life was at stake.
You know they’re going to get you in the end, don’t you?
No, they would not, as long as he had a say in it. He had to find a way to convince Padre Juan to stay, but of course that tight ass couldn’t bear to be in the same parish as the object of his desire. To think he may be risking his cover because some stupid gringo had the hots for Gustavo of all people was maddening; the only way out, as far as Ernesto could tell, was leading Juan to see that he just wasn’t worth the trouble; as for how… well, he had an idea.
“Sofía.”
“That’s my name,” she replied without missing a beat, talking over her bite of bread. Even though they had managed to buy food to last them some time, they had to be careful with rationing; it needed to last them until the gringo could get them aid. But at least it was some breakfast, and he ate it slowly, relieved that at least for now Padre Juan was in the hands of doctor Sanchéz. Sofía eyed him, raising an eyebrow.
“You look like you didn’t sleep a minute.”
“The chair was uncomfortable enough to keep me awake,” Ernesto muttered, not really wanting to think of what had truly kept him up.  “Listen, you said Gustavo is… disappointing. In bed.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Not a question I was expecting.”
“Humor me.”
“... Fine. There is only one way for anyone not to be disappointed in bed with him.”
“Which is...?”
“Get into it expecting the biggest disappointment you can imagine. Then you’ll get exactly that. Why, are you considering giving him a go now that Lent is over with and I get to go back to Sister Antonia? I have to advise against it. Strongly.”
Ernesto scoffed. “Thanks but no, thanks,” he muttered, making a face. And changed subject. “Still, it’s kind of cold, how you’re heading back to the fairer sex now that she’ll have you again.”
“Aw, are you going to miss me?”
It helps to have someone in the same bed.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he grumbled. Sofía laughed, and flicked his nose.
“She’s not terribly jealous. Maybe every once in a while, for old times’ sake.”
“Old times,” Ernesto repeated, and had to laugh. God, he’d been there for little over a month, and it felt like years - and not bad ones, either. “I’ll keep in mind your gracious offer, Sister.”
“Subject to availability, of course,” she added. “So, what was the question for?”
Ernesto - who had no clue if Gustavo would even be on board with it - shrugged. “Oh, nothing. I was just wondering,” he said. She didn’t look all that convinced, but thank God the next moment Héctor and doctor Sanchéz walked in and, as they discussed Padre Juan’s condition and treatment as well as his utter idiocy, she seemed to entirely forget the matter.
Or maybe he was too tired to notice the thoughtful looks she kept giving him.
“... Bed rest for at least another week, best if it’s ten days, and keep medicating the wounds,” doctor Sanchéz finished. “He seems eager to get out of town, and good riddance, but as a doctor I can under no circumstances allow him to leave just yet.”
And as someone who’d be utterly fucked, I can under no circumstances allow him to leave at all.
“Of course,” Ernesto said, and smiled. That meant he had a few days at least to convince him to stay; he always had a way with words, and now he also had an idea, so he was… sort of confident he could talk him out of leaving, at least for now. And if he could not, well, there were less pleasant but still effective measures he could take.
He still had a gun hidden in his room, after all.
***
“Hola! Feeling better?”
John was startled out of his bleak thoughts by Father Ernest’s loud, impossibly cheerful voice. He lifted his head from the pillow - doctor Sanchéz had threatened to tie him down if he didn’t keep resting on his stomach with his back uncovered - to look at the door, blinking.
“Father Ernest?” he muttered. His wide smile was such a contrast from the tiredness on his face when he’d left only a couple of hours earlier, he couldn’t even begin to feel embarrassed. “Are you, uh. Are you well?”
“Absolutely,” he exclaimed, still smiling - no, grinning. He sat on the chair by his bed and leaned forward, closer. Entirely too close. “I have a solution!”
“A… a solution? ”
“To your affliction, I mean.”
For a moment, John could only stare. Hope reared its head for a moment, only to be extinguished like a flickering match thrown in a river. It was… kind of him to make an attempt, but it was hopeless; John knew as much now. He’d tried everything - he’d prayed and fasted and punished himself. Father Joseph, the Lord rest his soul, had prayed for him as well and God hadn’t heeded him either.
“ Perhaps it is in God’s plan that it remains your cross to bear,” his mentor had told him one day. John had refused to contemplate that, then. It horrified him to think he may never be free of those urges. He’d felt the flames of Hell at his heels and he’d turned his back to a holy man who had taken him in and tried to help him - a holy man who had only showed him kindness.
“I have to find the solution on my own. And your mercy is only hindering me.”
“Son…”
“I am not your son. I am no one's until I am worthy of it.”
It had been their last meeting, their last exchange aside from the occasional letter, and oh how he’d regretted his outburst when news had reached him of Father Joseph’s death. Even now, thinking of it, he almost teared up. Almost, because he couldn’t allow himself to. Here he was, years later and still as unworthy, with a man who attempted to extend that same kindness.
“You are... a good soul. But I fear there is nothing that can be done, nothing I have not tried.”
“You never gave in to it, did you?”
John swallowed, averting his eyes. Suddenly, his face burned as hot as his back did. “No, never. I swear. I could never--”
“Then it might be worth a try.”
“--even contemplate-- what?? ”
John’s voice left him as an incredulous screech, brain freezing. The part of it that was still sort of working screamed that he must have heard wrong, that Father Ernest couldn’t have possibly be suggesting… he couldn’t… couldn’t.
“I-- I beg your pardon?” John choked out, and Father Ernest lifted his hands.
“I know, I know-- sounds insane, but hear me out. If you give it a go, and hate it, then it could just rid you of any desire going forward, no?”
“I-- I couldn’t--!”
“You tried everything else, what have you got to lose?”
“My soul, that’s what!” John cried out, cheeks on fire. Good God, how could he suggest-- to just imagine… no, no, no, he couldn’t even think of it. “I have-- I have already sinned in my heart. If I commit the sin of sodomy--”
"I’ll give you absolution.”
It was unheard of, absurd. John felt lightheaded, and shook his head. “It… it is… unorthodox.”
“Most of my methods are. But they do work. Think of it,” Father Ernest leaned forward again, causing John to shrink on the mattress. God, why was he so close-- why was he so handsome-- oh Jesus Christ why put him on this path, why him. “You’ve been sinning until now in thought, no? And nothing worked. So why not bite the bullet? If it takes care of it once and for all...”
“N-no,” John managed, and shook his head. He closed his eyes, tears of humiliation threatening to fall. “I could never damn another soul, and-- you don’t understand, I am the most unholy-- if it turns out I… I enjoy...” he fell silent, and dropped his forehead back onto the pillow.
If it turns out I enjoy the act, I don’t know what I’ll do.
“Listen, I know who it is you want.”
Oh. Oh God. Oh God, he knew. Humiliation hit him like a wave, and suddenly John knew the flames of Hell would be a relief in comparison. He shut his eyes tighter, choking out a sob against the pillow. “F-f-forgive me,” he manages. “That’s why I cannot stay, I-- I thought I would be safe in Mexico, I n-n-never thought I could possibly lust after-- after one of your kind.”
He didn’t look up, so he didn’t notice the deeply unimpressed look Father Ernest gave him before he sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and spoke again. “Well… anyway. Say that this man is available, and maybe willing to help--”
“What??” John looked up, eyes wide, mind reeling. What he’d just heard was so incomprehensible, it made him flush hot and cold at the same time. Thoughts rushed to his mind, and he shut them down with a desperate shake of his head. No, it couldn’t be, he couldn’t let it happen; he could not allow a holy man to defile himself to help him. He opened his mouth to say as much, but Father Ernest spoke again, causing his brain to come to a grinding halt.
“I know from trustworthy sources that he’s absolutely the worst in bed, so chances are you’ll never lust after him again.”
“... What?”
“Don’t ask me how I know, I won’t name names,” Father Ernest said, shrugging. “I’m just saying, it might be worth a try. Your unfortunate problem will be fixed, I’ll absolve you for the act, and you won’t need to leave.”
“But--”
“It would be a shame if this town lost an asset like you in this moment of need-- and over what? That toad?” he shrugged, entirely unaware of John’s wide-eyed gaze.
“What… what are you talking about?”
Another shrug. “Your awful taste, that’s what. I mean-- Gustavo, seriously?”
John stared. John blinked. John opened his mouth and found he couldn’t force out a single word. John closed his mouth, blinked again, drew in a deep breath. And he screeched.
“What in the blazes are you going on about??"
Father Ernest reared back as though struck, blinking himself, and his patient expression turned into confusion. “I’m saying, I heard that Gustavo-- you know, the sexton-- is… er…” he paused, and blinked. “... Wait. Is it not him?”
“Good God, no!”
“Ah.” Father Ernest seemed to deflate, staring down at him as though he’d just revealed he had wings. He seemed so utterly confused.
Oh Lord, he is an idiot.
“I-I-- I think this conversation should end here, for both of our--” John tried, stumbling over his own words, but Father Ernest didn’t seem to even hear him.
“So wait, who is it then?” he asked, frowning. “It’s not Héctor, it’s not Gustavo, and there is no one else I can think of you’ve spen... any time... around…” his voice faded, and something horrible showed on his feature - comprehension.
As his eyes widened, John found he could no longer stand the sight. He let out a groan, and burrowed his face into the pillow again, waiting for what was sure to follow, the disgust and anger and--
“... I mean, I don't know why I’m even surprised.”
“W-what…?” John stiffened, face still against the pillow, heart jumping in his throat. Why… why didn’t he sound furious? Why was he not running from him, or striking him, or cursing hi--
“I am by far better looking than everyone else in this parish.”
Oh, God. “Please, leave me.”
“I should have known, actually. Who would even look at Héctor or Gustavo while I’m--”
“LEAVE!” The scream tore through John’s throat; even muffled against the pillow, it had the desired effect: after muttering something he did not catch, Father Ernest walked quickly out of the room and closed the door - leaving him alone with the sound of his fading steps, and never-ending, boiling shame.
The prospect of Earth parting beneath him to plunge him into a fiery pit didn’t seem so bad, now.
***
“Héctor? Can we talk a moment?”
A look at the chamaco was enough for Héctor to tell that something was not right. Miguel had turned to him before if anything troubled him - even if sometimes his help ended up making things… just a bit worse - but he’d rarely looked quite that troubled.
It was alarming enough for Héctor to put down his pen and turn to the door, concerned. Songs could wait. “Sure, chamaco. What is it?”
Miguel hesitated, then he walked into the sacristy and closed the door behind himself. “Well…”
“If Dante ate the candles again, we have a few extra ones. No one will notice--”
“No, it’s not that. I mean, he did eat the candles, but… it’s about… something else,” Miguel muttered, and looked down. He seemed to be trying to gather courage, which was… not something he needed to do with him, usually. “You must promise to tell no one…”
*** 
[Back to Part 11]
***
Extra art by Dara!
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(Also check out @appatary8523‘s art cause it’s so good!)
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wrestlingisfake · 4 years
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Full Gear preview
Kenny Omega vs. Jon Moxley - Omega is the AAA mega champion, but that title is not at stake.  This is being billed as a “lights out” match, so it will take place after the lights are briefly switched off to indicate the end of the “officially sanctioned” show.  The gimmick is that this match is unsanctioned because the promotion will not be held responsible for what the participants intend to do to one another, so the usual rules to ensure their safety (like count-outs and disqualifications) will not be enforced.
Moxley debuted for AEW at their first show on May 25, where he ran in after Omega lost to Chris Jericho in the main event, and attacked both guys.  Omega and Moxley were scheduled to square off at the company’s second pay-per-view on  August 31, but that fell through when Moxley suffered a staph infection while participating in the G1 Climax and needed surgery to clear it up.  Mox officially returned in October and he and Omega have been fighting ever since, often teasing the use of barbed wire.  Now, at long last, we finally get to see this match.  I was at Vegas for the original angle, and at Chicago for the match that didn’t end up happening, so you can bet I’m pretty hype for this.
I sort of get the “lights out” stipulation as a way to make brawls feel more special and blow off a big feud.  Tony Khan apparently got the idea from Mid-South Wrestling.  However, I suspect Mid-South never ran the stip three times in four months.  I know the idea was to do Moxley vs. Joey Janella to establish Mox as a hardcore icon, and then run Omega vs. Janella to show Kenny could play Mox’s game.  But it feels like the stip has already been overexposed and doesn’t mean much.  This match needs to blow away the first two so that, when they bring the stip back a year later, we’ll just remember how legendary Omega-Moxley was.  That’s a tall order, but they’ve got the right guys to do it.
Omega developed a reputation in 2017-2018 for having matches so good that he broke the scale.  By those lofty standards he’s been somewhat disappointing in 2019--he’s overdue for a big “Match Of The Year” Candidate performance.  On the other hand, Moxley has had an awesome year since leaving WWE, and some of his New Japan matches have been among my favorites in 2019.  On paper there’s no reason this can’t be great, but I’m worried my expectations are way too high.
When this match was originally announced for Chicago I assumed Moxley had to win, if only because he’d just arrived.  Now I’m not so sure, which is better for the match.  If Omega wins, it’s hard to imagine Mox would accept defeat and move on, whereas Omega could lose and easily be diverted into feuding with Chris Jericho’s Inner Circle stable.  So I’d say Moxley is still the favorite, but it wouldn’t be crazy for him to lose at this point.
Chris Jericho vs. Cody Rhodes - Jericho is defending the AEW men’s world championship.  Cody is the only man in the promotion with a singles record (3-0-1) anywhere near as good as Jericho’s (3-0), which is implicitly the reason for this match.  However, Cody is also an AEW executive vice-president (in real life and in kayfabe), creating an apparent conflict of interest.  So Cody has vowed that if he does not win the championship in this match, he will never again challenge for the title.
When this match was announced I saw it as a placeholder, like Cody was getting the title shot because it was too early to book Jericho against Moxley or Omega.  But Cody has really run with the ball.  He was already beloved for being the son of Dusty Rhodes, for leaving WWE and being a sensation everywhere else, and for helping to create a serious #2 US promotion.  And yet, the past month of build to this match has been magical.  Cody isn’t the owner or president of AEW, and he’s one of four EVPs on the talent roster, but he’s undeniably the spiritual leader of the promotion and its fanbase.  You’d think he’s overdoing it with the ridiculous entrances and coming to the ring with his wife and dog and three best friends, but if anything the audience wants even more of that vanity nonsense, because they love him so much.  It’s pretty cool to see.
I think a lot of people really want to see Cody take the title from Jericho, and because of his added stipulation a lot more people think he has to win.  My gut feeling, though, is that Jericho is penciled in for a fairly long reign, and that AEW plans to put the belt on Cody but not in the first year.  I believe the stip here is designed to maximize sympathy for Cody when he loses the match, and to creatively remove him from title contention for a good long while.  Basically we’re supposed to spend months thinking it’s a shame Cody can’t go for the championship again, and then some angle will make the injustice of it all so heinous that we won’t mind when he is forced--forced!--to go back on his word.  (And then maybe the heel champ won’t agree to it...unless Cody puts his career on the line!)
It’s rather a shame that this match won’t close the show (the “lights out” match has to go on last) because I think it has the best chance of being an unforgettable classic.  Jericho is a perfect heel and Rhodes is a perfect babyface, and they’re meeting at the peak of their connection with the fans.  Something tells me this is going to be like Double or Nothing, where everyone came to see Jericho-Omega but Cody-Dustin stole the show and blew all our minds.  Then again, since I’m picking Jericho to win, I expect that finish would be a depressing end for the show. 
Scorpio Sky & Frankie Kazarian vs. Pentagon, Jr. & Rey Fenix vs. Isiah Kassidy & Marq Quen - This is the first defense of the AEW tag team championship, which was awarded to Sky and Kazarian (representing SCU) when they won a 7-team tournament.  The Lucha Brothers (Penta and Fenix) came in second place, losing to SCU in the finals.  Private Party (Quen & Kassidy) were eliminated in the semifinals but won a consolation match for third place.  This is a three-way tag match, so the first man to score a fall over any opponent will win the match and the title for his team.
This should be a nonstop spotfest, which is interesting because it’s in a position to get overshadowed by the Young Bucks match.  AEW needs to push SCU and the Lucha Brothers hard for the short term, and get Private Party over for the long term.  But there’s really no question about the finish--SCU really shouldn’t lose the title so soon, which means they have to get the win here.
Matt Jackson & Nick Jackson vs. Ortiz & Santana - The Ortiz/Santana duo started out as EYFBO (Entertain Your Fucking Balls Off) in the indies, before they turned heads in Impact Wrestling as the second incarnation of LAX.  They debuted with AEW by attacking the Young Bucks (Nick and Matt) on 8/31, right after a grueling ladder match.  Shortly thereafter they aligned with Chris Jericho in what would become “The Inner Circle,” a stable of guys to help Jericho feud with The Elite (the Bucks, Cody Rhodes, Kenny Omega, and Hangman Page) and their allies.
You could argue this match is bigger than the tag title match, simply because the Bucks are the biggest team and Ortiz/Santana are a hot new arrival.  I like the strategy, though, of keeping the Bucks out of the title picture, because this way you get two important tag team matches on the show instead of just one.  Eventually both of these teams will be in the title hunt, but hopefully by then SCU and the Lucha Brothers will have stepped further out of the Bucks’ shadow, so that various combinations of the four teams will mean even more.
The Elite/Inner Circle war has only just begun, so it doesn’t make any sense at all for the Bucks to get a win yet.  I would go so far as to say Ortiz and Santana should brutalize them, and maybe even humiliate them.  You want to come away from this with the Bucks wondering what the hell happened, leading to a fiery Matt promo later about how they’re glad the heels forced them to up their game.
Riho vs. Emi Sakura - Riho is defending the AEW women’s world title.  You’d think Sakura earned this opportunity by pinning Riho in a tag match on 11/7, but they announced the match before that happened, which makes the whole thing feel a hastily thrown together.  If you’re having trouble keeping the women in AEW straight (and heaven knows watching Dynamite doesn’t help that much), Riho is the very petite woman in pink and Sakura is the one who dresses like Freddie Mercury.
There’s kind of two tracks in AEW’s women’s division: a) Kenny Omega’s friends from Japan showcasing joshi style and b) whatever the hell Brandi Rhodes is doing.  Since Sakura is Riho’s mentor I would surmise that the goal here is to try to present the best joshi match possible, so people can see Riho as a formidable champion and not merely a tiny cute pop star.  I doubt we’ll be seeing a title change, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s an angle to set up Riho’s next challenger.
PAC vs. Hangman Page - This feud has been brewing since day one.  Page and Pac exchanged words at the original AEW press conference in January, to set up a match for 5/25.  Pac’s commitments to Dragon Gate got in the way, and they had to a sort of pre-emptive make-good match for Wrestle Gate Pro on 5/18, where Page won by disqualification.  Then Pac finally made a proper AEW debut on 8/31, and Pac vs. Page finally took place in an AEW ring on 10/4.  Pac won that match, but Page got a pinfall over Pac in a tag match on 10/16.  So now Page wants to prove he can beat Pac one-on-one.
The Page storyline has been that he’s been in a funk since losing the first AEW championship match to Chris Jericho on 8/31.  We don’t see much of this on the main TV show (Dynamite), or the YouTube show (Dark), but the other YouTube show (Being the Elite) has done innumerable skits where Page’s friends awkwardly pull him aside and dance around whatever concerns them while he repeatedly states that he’s fine and just wants to be left alone.  I don’t know if this is going anywhere (a lot of BTE storylines never seem to make it out of BTE), but the outcome of this match will surely have an effect.  Page probably needs a win, but not necessarily here.  Pac seems to be getting pushed for something down the line, so he may have to win.
Shawn Spears vs. Joey Janella - I forget exactly what started it between these two, but one way or another Spears grabbed Janella’s tongue with pliers and then put out a cigarette with said tongue.  After that I’m pretty sure it no longer matters what started it.  This isn’t a no-disqualification match but I’m pretty sure that won’t stop Janella from trying some crazy shit to give Spears a receipt.  Spears should win in the end.
Britt Baker vs. Bea Priestley - This is scheduled for the pre-show.  Of all the women in AEW, these two feel the most like they could fit in with the WWE women’s roster, so I keep expecting both of them to get pushed strongly.  They’ve been positioned as rivals basically from the moment Priestley showed up, and as it happens Baker suffered a concussion in that Priestley’s first AEW match, so that’s been worked into the story.  Bea needs the win but more importantly both of them need to get off the pre-show.  It’s kind of ridiculous by now that we can’t get more than one women’s match on the main card.
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starsailorstories · 5 years
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Overview of The High Fidelities
The High Fidelities are the main conceptual focuses of respectability in Basilean culture. They’re spiritual and legal understandings of relationships of mutual obligation. There are Low Fidelities too--any relationship or interpersonal transaction can be reduced to a base sense of what is owed if you’re committed enough--but the High Fidelities are codified, widely agreed upon descriptions of the duties that accompany various roles in life which are variably interpreted and then used to enforce them. With a few exceptions, you’re expected to only have one at a time, and to have none is seen as one step short of being a straight-up outlaw.
At their best, they ensure reciprocity and fairness at all levels of life. At worst, they can trap people in toxic situations. Once currencies and commodities become involved, see Das Kapital Vol. 1 Chapter 1 lol
They are as follows:
Filial Piety
This is the only Fidelity that all people are theoretically just born with, and the only one that doesn’t technically preclude having other legal ones (sometimes midwives and other positions that are directly accessory to a Mother’s leadership have a local “leveling up” that makes them accountable to the colony and precludes them from other Loyalties but some colonies are a lot more casual about it).
The idea is that once you’re an adult, you have an obligation to contribute to the perpetuation of your colony (which in archaic times looked like pooling resources to be traded by your Mother and her immediate family and dispensed as needed, under the feudal system looked like paying tribute, and in many places nowadays looks like generating profit for a local capitalist who then gives your Mother a relatively tiny cut that’s distributed to everyone) and to take care of the sisters who raised you as needed when they get old.
This isn’t always enforced legally or all that strongly. Colonies don’t generally expect direct community contribution from sisters who have moved away, for example, or have fallen on hard times (in fact historically the existence of the economic colony unit specifically aimed to prevent single-household poverty, but it’s getting harder for them to do that as the wealth gap gets wider). It’s basically a legal mechanic for families/colonies to assign responsibility for children and elders and to allow for civil suits if those responsibilities are neglected.
You can sever legal filial piety as well, but you either have to prove that one party committed a crime against the other, or both parties have to agree to it.
Fealty
Fealty is another Fidelity that many people are born into, as some types can be inherited. In many places it’s meant to be exclusive and prevents the taking on of other Fidelities--in other words, peasants can’t get married. The earliest forms of fealty on record were just extended versions of the obligations of filial piety that allowed for the divvying up of land and other resources to a workforce as a means of supporting the needs of the colony. Since then, as the monarchy and aristocracy in Basilea has become entrenched and spread its influence as far as the ante-dome, it’s become a thing where several colonies can be bound in fealty to the same titled landowner.
There are two main types of fealty: precaria, or land tenure--the agreement to provide labor on the private property of a noble in exchange for the rights to live there and be ‘reasonably’ provided for (at least in the eyes of the powers that be), which in present times can be extended to an “arrangement” between workers and owners of the means of production--and tenure of a position, which can include knighthood and other agreements of honored service to the local sovereign. Originally all submaxima titles were technically positions of fealty, although a lot of them are now legal free agents.
In the age of the Hyperian dynasty, “mass fealty” brings unaffiliated people (a lot of times immigrants, orphans, etc) into an arrangement of fealty to the nation and nobles acting on her behalf in exchange for (shit) currency wages and citizenship. Basically you join the army and swear an oath along with a hundred or so other people, and that oath is held by a noble who becomes your commander in chief. There’s a lot of honor and ceremony around those in mass fealty--they are the protectors of the nation’s Great Ladies Of War, and the courtly love element of that is played up to stir their emotions around their legal fidelity--but they usually don’t get paid or treated any better than convicts in the space galleys.
Sworn Service
Sworn service sounds similar to fealty, but is even less reciprocal. In practice it’s like a quasi-voluntary form of Roman slavery. While it must be submitted to by free will, there are a number of situations that make it as good as social death to pursue any other option.
This is, for the purpose of enforcement anyway, what an umbralis vow is. A lot of local legal codes include the chilling phrase “by free will, if she possesses it” to make an exception for lux entering vows for the same reason they do everything--because they’re told to.
Traditionally, sworn service was reserved for positions of great indebtedness, such as mercy shown at the end of a lost duel to the death (which is a big part of why many Basillans see taking mercy as dishonorable/implying a loss of personal agency) or inability to provide tribute.
Marriage
Basilean astraeas conceive of marriage as a legal institution a little differently from humans. It’s much more common for committed life partners to be unmarried; marriages are about tying together the fates of two households and colonies, not two individuals.
There’s not really a concept of divorce because even if they choose to end their relationship, they still owe each other. You can marry a second time without the first marriage ending, but you can’t get out of the obligations to see to the care of your wife and your wife’s family even if she won’t speak to you. Even if your wife dies, you owe her formal mourning and remembrance, which has a component of financial support to her family as well. 
Even with all this hassle people still generally really want to get properly legally married. Most of the trappings are left over from the origins of legal marriage as a practice for allying noble colonies, meaning that its airtightness was important for keeping the peace. With this history in its wake, it’s become a little bit of a status symbol (especially as it also means you don’t have fidelities of fealty or servitude) and a declaration of being all in on a romance. Still, “modern” and progressive couples who are able to marry sometimes make a big thing of forgoing it simply to avoid being tied down to a bunch of responsibilities. This, of course, is summarily criticized as irresponsible.
Vestal & other priestly vows
Most vestals, priestesses, and holders of other religious offices swear fidelity to whatever deity or faith institution they serve, or, in the case of small-town shrinekeepers, to the protector spirits of the municipality itself. Their obligations are primarily ceremonial and social--maintaining a connection to the goddesses for their followers--but some take vows to uphold specific disciplines, like asceticism, charity, teaching, or wisdom-seeking. 
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dailyaudiobible · 4 years
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11/05/2019 DAB Transcript
Ezekiel 12:1-14:11, Hebrews 7:1-17, Psalms 105:37-45, Proverbs 27:3
Today is the 5th day of November. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I’m Brian. It’s a pleasure to be here with you as we come in out of…now it actually is kind of starting to get cold and time for a roaring campfire to keep warm, but I guess the important thing is that we keep the fire burning every day. And, so, here we are for our next step forward. We’re reading from the Contemporary English Version this week. Ezekiel chapter 12 verse 1 through 14 verse 11 today.
Commentary:
Okay. So, for the last few days in the book of Hebrews we’ve been hearing his name, Melchizedek, and it might sound vaguely familiar because we've seen this name before in the Bible in the story of Abraham which the book of Hebrews recounts today. This guys really interesting because entire stories about him existed like extra biblically among the Hebrew people. I mean even the book of Hebrews tells us he never died. He was a priest of God who never died dating back to Abraham's times. So, we could go like, “well…maybe that's Jesu?” or “what's going on here?” And that kind of opens up all kinds of avenues that…that get us into things that we can't possibly unpack right now. Things like cosmic geography, things like the understanding of the spiritual realm dating from Abraham forward into the first century. So, I have been studying a lot over the last couple of years and hopefully we can get into some of it as we go through the Scriptures next year. But rather than completely diverting from what the book of Hebrews point is and when it's trying to teach us let's look at this man named Melchizedek because the writer of Hebrews makes a direct correlation between Melchizedek and Jesus. So, who was  Melchizedek? That takes us, like I just said, like the book of Hebrews says, back to the book of Genesis, so back to the beginning of our journey when we met Abraham. So, I'm quoting from Genesis 14 here. “And Melchizedek, the king of Salem a priest of God most high brought Abram some bread and wine. Melchizedek blessed Abram with this blessing, “blessed be Abram by God most high Creator of heaven and earth and blessed be God most high, who has defeated your enemies for you. Then Abram gave Melchizedek 1/10 of all the goods he had recovered.” So, like that's the story of Melchizedek in the Bible. He’s mentioned one other time outside of the New Testament and that's in Psalm 110, which was composed by the great King David. And I read, “the Lord has taken an oath and will not break his vow. You are a priest forever in the order of Melchizedek.” So, like we've…we've read through this territory on our journey this year. So, we know that there's a pretty vast amount of centuries between Abram and David. And then we also know that there’s a vast amount of centuries that existed between David and the writing of the book of Hebrews. So, if Melchizedek is showing up in Genesis and then showing up in Psalms centuries later, and then showing up in Hebrews even more centuries later. And that's it, like that all. We read everything in the whole Bible that’s spoken about this guy, Melchizedek. So, if his name and his reputation and whatever the story is that swirls around him can exist outside of the Scriptures and be talked about, like a part of the fabric of the culture for millennia, then even though outside the Bible everything is speculative, we know he had a place in the consciousness of the Hebrew people for a very, very long time. And you start getting into this territory and you can Google Melchizedek and you can…you can go on all kinds of different journeys of speculation, some related to Jesus and some completely unrelated to Jesus. But the author of Hebrews is making a connection to Jesus. So, let’s like stick to that path. So, the author of Hebrews tells us that Melchizedek's Melchi-Zedek means king of justice, or king of righteousness, and he was the king of Salem, which means king of peace according Hebrews. So, Melchi-Zedek is the very first priest of the most-high God or el-elion that appears in the Bible at all. So, we could say that Melchizedek was the first righteous priest of God most high, and the man who also happened to be the king of Salem or the king of peace. What Hebrews is bringing out here is that Melchizedek is interesting because he was a priest of the most-high God, in fact the very first priest of the most-high God mentioned in the Scriptures but he wasn't a Levite, which would be against Mosaic law, which is a very big deal. However, Melchizedek couldn't have been a Levite because Levi wasn't born yet. And his priesthood couldn’t have been against the Mosaic law because Moses wasn't born yet. So, you’ve got an anomaly going on here. and if we jump like a thousand years ahead of this account in Genesis and we enter into the time of King David and what he wrote in Psalm 110 about Melchizedek, Mosaic law had in fact been given and the priests were certainly from the tribe of Levi, the Levites. But David was not from the tribe of Levi. David, the king was from the tribe of Judah. So, why is it that he gets to be a priest that's forever in the order of Melchizedek? So, this is where it gets interesting. Melchizedek was a priest of the most-high God who also happened to be the king of Salem. In other words, he was a priest and a king, a priestly king. David, speaking in Psalm 110 was king of Jerusalem, right? So, let's break it down. Jeru-Salem, Salam, the same city Melchizedek had been a king of. So, in Psalm 110 it appears that King David is being set apart to be a priestly king, a king of righteousness, a king of peace like Melchizedek, regardless of what tribe he came from even though that was against the Mosaic law. So, if this interpretation is theologically correct then…then David was an anomaly, then David was an exception, he was a priest in the order of Melchizedek an exception. Jesus came from the line of David and according to Hebrews ties off this thread, gives an explanation for why this guy shows up a couple of times in the Bible but has a lot of conjecture surrounding him outside of the Bible. Jesus came from the line of David from the tribe of Judah, and He is a priestly king in the order of Melchizedek, a King of peace. And we’re quoting from Hebrews, “that person wasn't appointed because of his ancestors, but because his life can never and end. The Scriptures say about Him, you are a priest forever just like Melchizedek.” So, like I said, there's a lot…there's a lot more to that story and's there’s a lot of mythology that surrounds Melchizedek and it's all tied to a larger worldview, spiritual worldview of the of the ancient Hebrew people and for that matter the ancient people of the time at the time of the writing of the Old Testament. This at least gives us a little bit of context and a little bit of background for what we’re reading in Hebrews and why it matters to the greater point that the writer of Hebrews is making, that Jesus is the great high priest, right? Because that's the story that's being told here this great…a high priest has to go in once a year and atone for the sins of the people, like everybody…I mean…Hebrews is written to Hebrew people, so they understand what's being said here, this explanation of how Jesus has become the final and the greatest high priest, and there is really no need for a high priest any longer, at least a sacrificial officiant, is where he's going here. Which brings up the obvious question. How can Jesus be the great never-ending high priest before God in His presence in the spiritual holy of holies if He didn't come from the tribe of the Levites and He's like an illegitimate priest to begin with. This is how the book of Hebrews, the author of Hebrews is connecting a story that goes all the way back to Genesis through the Psalms and then into the New Testament era, revealing Jesus as the high priest.
Prayer:
So, Father…I mean…just…there’s a lot here in context and in history…there's a lot that we would need to know to fully appreciate what's being said here and most of us aren’t Hebrew and most of us really don't fully understand Hebrew worldview in a modern way, much less in an ancient way. And, so, we thank You for the opportunity to get some context, to get some help to understand the magnitude of what is being said to us in the book of Hebrews. And as we continue this journey we invite Your Holy Spirit to continue to reveal these truths through …through Hebrew eyes and through the lens of the Old Testament that lead us to the story that we’re living in today, the story of our redemption, the story of our salvation, the story of eternal life with You. Come into all the things we pray in the name of Jesus. Amen.
Announcements:
dailyaudiobible.com is home base and it is the website and that is where you find what's happening around here. So, like I say most every day, stay tuned and stay connected. At least be aware that you always have a place to reach to.
The Prayer Wall lives at dailyaudiobible.com in the Community section. And, so, brothers and sisters are praying for one another on a continual basis there. So, be aware of that. You can get to the Prayer Wall using the Daily Audio Bible app as well. There’s a little Drawer icon in the upper left-hand corner that’ll give you links to those places. So, stay connected.
If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible in the mission that we share to bring God's spoken word read fresh every single day and offered freely to whoever will listen to it anywhere on this planet any time of day or night, and to build community around that rhythm so that no one is alone on this journey, if that has been meaningful and brought life into your life, then thank you for your partnership. Thank you profoundly as we approach the end of the year. There is a link on the homepage at dailyaudiobible.com. If you’re using the app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.
And, as always, if you have a Prayer Request or comment you can press the Hotline button in the app, the little red button up at the top or you can dial 877-942-4253.
And that is it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.
Community Prayer and Praise:
Hi this is Sandy from Amarillo. I…I need some prayer. I’ve been in the hospital three times in the last two weeks. I have had a brain…a brain…oh my God I forgot already. My…my brain is not working. I had a…a stroke in my…my…part of my brain. I do not understand a lot and I cannot see. I need prayer just to keep me strong in our Lord. And I thank you for your time. I gotta go bye.
Hi radio audio Bible I am Soul from Fiji. I’m asking for prayer for a friend of mine who…her name is Carol. She’s having such a difficult time, you know, separated from her husband and dealing with her mom with Alzheimer’s. I just want you guys to remember her in prayer and a couple of my friends who have been sick in hospital, one little boy that got burned. Just remember them in prayer. Thank you so much Brian and family for this devotional time which has been a very, very, very good inspiration to my life. God bless. Thank you.
Fill me my father with spirit and light and guard my sub-conscious while I’m sleeping at night let not the wicked one broach my defense be my protector God please put up a fence let not his arrows of poison get through help me stay focused God solely on you lies and deception try to enter my heart scenes from the past trying to keep us apart selective amnesia pleasure with no pain but the helmet of salvation covers my brain filtering my thoughts through the blood of your son and submissively resistant Satan must run lust and dark passions God please keep them away with my loins girded with truth your will I’ll obey the sword of your spirit I’ll keep in my hands and teach me how to wield it when I’m taking my stands the breastplate of righteousness safeguards my heart bring it to fruition the good things I start no more will my feet front to badness every day they’ll deliver good news every step of the way Fill me my father with spirit and light and guard my subconscious while I’m sleeping at night
[email protected]. Like to give a shout out to Delta Alpha Foxtrot. Hope you’re still hanging in there, brother and Tony and Ajay the truck driver from Philly. All right. Love you and you’re both in my prayers every day. And once again Brian and the Hardin family thank you for this wonderful podcast for God’s Holy Spirit to flow. Keep it flowing y’all.
Hi, my name is Melissa. I’m from Ohio and I’m calling him with a report on harvest. And I just wanted to say, I don’t call in very often, but if you had asked me about the harvest in my life a few months ago I would have said that the harvest was poor because I was married for 25 years and this week I have to go and stand before a judge and dissolve that marriage. And I have to say that I stand here today thanking God for the Daily Audio Bible family and for the Daily Audio Bible Chronological for pouring into me the…just…love and the encouragement and the support that someone in my situation really needs so that I can stand here today and say, “hey, God has a harvest for me to participate in and it looks different than what I thought it was gonna look like.” It looks different but I just praise God for those that poured their healing and their words and their encouragement and their love into me so that I could reap a harvest personally and for the kingdom. And, so, I just praise God today and I thank you. In Jesus’ name.
Hi Daily Audio Bible listeners my name is Mary. I’m actually probably a neighbor of Daily Audio Bible. I’m pretty close to their location. Today is November the 3rd and I just was listening to the prayer requests and I heard a prayer from Mark in Columbus who is needing compassion and love and someone to just take his name before the Lord for comfort and healing. And Mark, your prayer was heard, and I just felt just an incredible amount of compassion for you. I just am lifting your name up to God and trusting God would give you peace and comfort and sense of companionship. God says He will never leave or forsake us. And I just pray that…that you feel the love from the Daily Audio Bible community and know that, although we are not right next to you, we have you in our hearts and we are praying for you and lifting you up. And I’m going to ask you a favor too, if you will pray for my three adult children who at this point do not know the Lord. That breaks my heart. And I want nothing more to be able to rejoice in heaven with them when that day comes. So, please lift them up. Their adult children, they have their own lives and I just want them to know the Lord. So, Mark I’ll be listening, I’ll be praying for you and I pray that you will be praying for my children. God bless you and know that this community loves you.
Hi Mark from Columbus this is Deborah of Providence Rhode Island. I’m calling to list you know that I hear you, we are with you, we’re praying for you, and we pray that you find peace in the midst of all of this. Most importantly God is with you. Don’t feel that you’re being selfish. You’re not, you’re being human. God bless you. Bye.
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chewie-redbird · 5 years
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Family Business (Preview)
Author : chewie-redbird
Word Count : 1,748
Warnings : none......corporate backstabbing? maybe.....idk
Summary : (Y/N) West returns to her home city of Vancouver, where she will attend her family’s company, W&Y International, Board meeting. There she is taking over as CEO from her Grandma Darlene McMurray. She was forced into exile as her life wasn’t safe and due to Board pressuring Darlene to do so as (Y/N) was deemed a “corporate issue”. Returning to pull the rug out from the Board, Darlene hands the company to Ken West, who hands it to his sister Angel, who is (Y/N)’s mom. Now as the new CEO, (Y/N), she has to find out why the Board threatened her live? Why they didn’t want her in the company? Who else is involved with this conspiracy to take over her family’s company?
Characters : OC Characters names are based off my real family.
A/N : Uh this was a dream inspired from a variety if shows. I know this probably sucks as it was quickly just typed out and well yeah. Just wanna know if y’all be interested? I’m also currently writing another story too so......yeah......
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Sun high in the sky, nice and clear with the rays shining in the beautiful boardroom with floor length windows making the phantom white marble floor sparkle. The big black and gold marble table is surrounded by nineteen black office chairs with one bright red chair at the head of the table. People in amazing suits and dresses sit at the table, discussing between each other about things and people. Then all of a sudden en elder woman in a blue pantsuit strolls in with a man and a woman behind her.
“I see everyone who is here has made it. Good, let’s begin” the elder woman states as she sits in the red chair as the two people stand by her sides,
“So we are here today so I can announce…..” the boss lady was saying when a twenty-two year-old comes rushing in late,
“Sorry, jetlagged, slept past my alarm” the young man sits down besides another young guy towards furthest from the red chair,
“As I was saying, I called all of you here today so I can announce who will be my successor and become head of this empire that my mother built and I kept and expand while others fell”
“Uh we are one person short, we’re missing…..” the young man speaks up but gets a Miranda Priestly glare from the lady at the head of the table,
“Jared shut up, you weren’t here but Grandma Dar and he-who-shall-not-be-named had a falling out and he is in South America in exile now” the young man next to Jared West whispers to him,
“Never even dare think to say his name in my presence ever again” the lady declares as her face twists in hatred at the mere thought of that person,
“Moving on” the lady in the red chair who’s name is Darlene McMurry states while down at the entrance, a pair of black and red 'Prive' Open Toe Louboutin Pumps walk through the front doors and head to the elevators,
“I have decided to step down as Head of this company and name Ken West as my successor” Darlene announces to the group of people as the woman walks past the front desk ignoring a receptionist and gets into a elevator.
The receptionist finally sees the woman as the doors close, she runs back to the desk and calls up to the twenty-fifth floor.
“Hey Klare, how’s it going down on the front desk?” a woman’s voice comes through,
“Jamie, you gotta listen very clearly. She’s back! The bitch has returned home!” Klare the receptionist says with worry as Jamie’s face falls as she sits up straighter,
“What? When? Where? Why?” Jamie starts to shoot off questions at her friend,
“Jamie! She just went up the elevator! She’s going to your floor!” Klare says as Jamie whips her head as the elevator dings singling it’s arrival.
“Jamie? Jamie you there?” Kalre asks as Jamie freezes as the black Louboutin pumps walk out revealing a young woman in a black Long Sleeve Off the Shoulder Asymmetrical Dress by Victoria Beckham, Ruthenium 61mm Aviator Sunglasses by Marc Jacobs and holding a Cabata Calfskin Leather Tote by Christian Louboutin. Her ears were adorned by Châtelaine Pavé Diamond Bezel 18K Gold Statement Drop Earrings, her necklace is a ruby ‘Châtelaine' Pendant Necklace with Diamonds, her right hand ring finger ring is a ruby ‘Wheaton' Petite Ring with Semiprecious Stone & Diamonds and her bracelet on her left wrist is a ruby ‘Albion' Bracelet with Diamonds and 18K Gold which were all made by David Yurman.
“Hello Jamie, they in the boardroom?” the woman in Louboutins asked while turning to walk away,
“Do you think she knows?” Klare asks through the phone as the woman stops, turns to look back at Jamie and lowers the aviators,
“Oh and I know what you did to me” the woman says as she sends the receptionist a spine-chilling smile then walks away.
“So as we sign these forms, I officially hand over the company over to you” Darlene states as she sings her signature as well as the older gentleman named Ken sings his signature officially taking over the company.
Everyone is cheering as the doors open to reveal the woman in Louboutins walks in and everyone is shocked. No one daring to speak as they look back and forth between the young woman and Darlene, waiting to see who speaks first.
“Well, hello everyone. Did you miss me?” the woman smiles taking off her aviators walking to the table,
“What are you doing here (Y/N), you’re supposed to be in Rio” Darlene says with a hint of anger as some others send a glare towards the young woman,
“Well this is a Board meeting isn’t it? And I am a part of the Board still as I am family. Besides I am here to congratulate my dear Uncle in officially taking over the company after all.” (Y/N) replies as she moves to hug Ken,
“Technically yes…..but we thought you wouldn’t be able to make it due to you being out of the country and all” a twenty-six year old African American in a black button up and knee length skirt explains,
“But yet you could inform my cousin Jared who is stationed in Tokyo but not me? Oh well, it’s great I had some urgent business meeting in town with David Industries about our shipping isn’t it Veronica?” (Y/N) sends her a sweet smile that has underlying hatred to it which is returned.
“If this meeting is done, we shall adjeering until the next Board meeting!” a forty-eight Asian woman in a purple button up, black suit jacket and purple pants and black flats says,
“Actually there is one small thing” (Y/N) explains making the ones who got up to sit back down,
“What is it?” a fifty-two caucasian man in dark brown suit asks,
“Well...there will be a new person as Head of this company but it’s not my Uncle Ken” (Y/N),
“What?! What are you talking about? Who?” the elder man in dark brown questions,
“Me” (Y/N) simply says as she is given glares from Veronica, the elder woman in purple, the elder man in dark brown and a few others.
“You can’t take this company! You don’t have the money nor the legal right to claim as the Head!” Veronica laughs as the others do,
“True. But it can be given to me” (Y/N) smirks as the Board members stop laughing in confusion,
“Uncle, please sign here” (Y/N) points to form after she took if out of a folder that her assistant gave her,
“What are you doing? He can’t hand you the company….you’re not his child!” the elder woman in purple demands,
“Again true Susan, but in the bylaws, if a Head of the company wishes to step down he or she can hand it over to their sibling. Which is my Mom Angel” (Y/N) explains as a forty year-old woman in red suit jacket and black button up with red pants stands up from her seat next to where Ken was sitting.
“And then after she signs her name, she’ll be the new Head of this company. But like her dear brother, she doesn’t want to run this company. So, you know what that means” (Y/N) reveals as she flips her hair as she waits for her mom to sign the new forms,
“You can’t do this! We will not stand for this! We won’t let you!” the elder man in dark brown stands in defiance and anger,
“Sit down Robert! You are talking with the new CEO of W&Y International! Now if you wish to go against your CEO and violate your contract with us, please, continue!” (Y/N) commands as Robert glares at you and the others but sits down in a huff.
“Now since that’s all done, I am pleased to say, as your new CEO I vow to lead this company into a new age of prosperity” (Y/N) announces to the Board,
“If that’s all, meeting adjourned until the next Board meeting!” (Y/N) states as everyone gets up again, (Y/N) sits in the red chair and spins to look out the windows.
Veronica, Susan, Robert and other Board members enter the elevator,
“How the hell did she find out about the meeting?” Robert asks angrily,
“I don’t know, but as she is the new CEO, it will be that much harder to get rid of her now!” Susan explains annoyed,
“Do you think she knows it was us who tried to get rid if her?” Veronica questions,
“Let us pray she doesn’t….otherwise we are all in trouble” Robert states as they all agree as the elevator closes.
“So we know how high this goes up now” (Y/N) tells still looking outside as Darlene comes in to the reflection beside her,
“Robert, Susan and Veronica…..I can’t believe they would turn on me. I brought them into our company and this is how they treat us!” Darlene mutters pissed off,
“I don’t know….they seemed a little bit more scared then angry…..there’s more here then we know” (Y/N) says looking back at her grandma,
“I’m sorry for exiling you to Brazil…..” Darlene was gonna apologize,
“No, don’t. I was under attack from the Board as we now know. It wasn’t safe for me to return unless I became the CEO. For some reason they don’t want me here or in control of this company. And I am gonna find out why. This is our family’s company! Our family’s legacy to the world and I’m not gonna let some corrupt Board ruin that! We will take them down together….as a family” (Y/N) turns around and sees Ken, Angel, Jared and the rest of her family still there as she smiles at them.
“Oh and one more thing…..” (Y/N) taps the phone on the table,
“Th-Th...This is Jamie” Jamie states nervously,
“Jamie darling. You’re fired! Clear out of my building” (Y/N) replies smiling,
“Ok” Kamie says sadly,
“Oh and Jamie, tell your friend Klaire downstairs she’s fired too! Thanks, have a nice day!” (Y/N) states while smiling and hangs up.
“2 Pawns down, a unknown number of them left” (Y/N) says sighing as she stands to look back out the window into the beautiful city of Vancouver.
@daydreamingfairy @mummybear @mrs-mitch-rapp93 @obrosey-af @rememberstilinski @mysterysiria @dylanobemineforever @spxderbarnes @blueraindrops @mf-despair-queen @hayley-noelle-salvatore19 @twilightparker @dumbass-stilinski @roscoeknows @totesem
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newstfionline · 6 years
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Roman Catholic Priests and Celibacy
By Alex Norcia, Vice, Sept. 25, 2018
In 1521, four years after a German priest named Martin Luther is said to have nailed his Ninety-Five Theses to the door of All Saints’ Church in Wittenberg, the outlaw retired to Wartburg Castle to hide from his inquisitors. There, he translated the New Testament from Greek into his native German, and began a period he referred to as his “Patmos”--an allusion to the small Greek island where the Book of Revelation was apparently written. He delved into his studies, refining polemics against the sale of indulgences (paying the Church money in exchange for salvation), and for the idea of sola fide, that God forgives on faith alone (regardless of one’s “works”).
These would become some of the most commonly known divisions between Catholicism and Protestantism. But what’s sometimes forgotten, amid the general shattering of European politics that soon followed, is where the theologian came down on sexuality and marriage. At Wartburg, he wrote to Nicolas Gerbel, a jurist and scholar of canon law, laying out his views clearly.
“Kiss and rekiss your wife,” he insisted. “Let her love and be loved. You are fortunate in having overcome, by an honorable marriage, that celibacy in which one is a prey to devouring fires and to unclean ideas. That unhappy state of a single person, male or female, reveals to me each hour of the day so many horrors, that nothing sounds in my ear as bad as the name of monk or nun or priest. A married life is a paradise, even where all else is wanting.”
Like most aspects of the Roman Catholic faith, the requirement that a priest be celibate has been enshrined by centuries of tradition. But the idea has been challenged for almost as long as it’s existed. In recent years, some have gone so far as to question, in the context of religious piety or otherwise, if living a celibate life is even possible. he end of priestly celibacy might be closer than you think.
After all, leaving scientific matters of sexuality aside, we do know it’s possible for the Catholic Church to survive without the restriction. It already did.
“The Roman Catholic precedent [of celibacy] really dates to the 11th-century Gregorian Reform,” Julie Byrne, a religion professor at Hofstra University, told me recently. “Pope Gregory VII instituted a lot of changes. Mandatory celibacy for priests was instituted then, and of course, we’re talking about an arrangement of society that’s so different from our own--so it was partly for priests to be able to do their duties, and partly about the land that priests had, remanding back to the churches, instead of to heirs. So, if priests didn’t have children, it was better for the Church.”
The notion of celibacy as a religious matter dates back even further. Kim Haines-Eitzen, a professor of religion at Cornell, explained that it has roots in the emergence of asceticism, the practice most commonly associated with monks. Haines-Eitzen has written extensively on the history of celibacy, offering a cogent timeline that touches on the introduction of priests to the Church hierarchy, the influence of Greco-Roman philosophy, and Christians’ eventual views on suffering and persecution.
“To simplify the historical scope,” Father Thomas Reese, a senior analyst at Religion News Service, and the former editor in chief of America magazine, told me, “I often say, ‘We had about a thousand years of a married clergy, and now a thousand years of having the rule of celibacy.’”
So the model for not requiring priests be celibate is there. For one thing, Peter, the first pope, was married, if we take Scripture at its word--and the more than two-dozen Eastern Catholic Churches, which are in full communion with Pope Francis, allow for the ordination of married men into the priesthood, as do many independent Catholic churches that have no affiliation with the Vatican. There are also thought to be several dozen Catholic priests based in the US who converted back to the Roman faith from Episcopalianism and got a pass.
The real questions are whether or not the Roman Catholic Church can revert to its previous position, how that would happen, what it could look like, and why it might happen now. The mechanics of making the change are not as tricky as you might think.
“The possibility of loosening the rules about celibacy, about priests not being married, that could be possible, because a discipline is more open to change than a doctrinal position,” Anthony Petro, a professor at Boston University who studies the intersection of sexuality and religion, said in an interview. “The discipline of celibacy, these sorts of things, can change. The Second Vatican Council [in the 1960s], for example, changed so much of the discipline around how mass is done. Does it need to be in Latin? How is the Eucharist held?”
There’s a subtle difference between how Catholic “doctrine” and “discipline” are defined, but, in short, “doctrine” concerns the teachings of the Church on faith and morals (it descends from God) and “disciplines” are acknowledged to be man-made rules and subject to potential shifts in practice. It’s slippery--yet important--phrasing.
“Celibacy is not doctrine in the Catholic Church,” Reese explained. “It’s a law. It can change. And people like myself, say, are in favor of moving toward optional celibacy--my primary reason being that we need more priests.”
The Church has, in fact, been undergoing a priest shortage for years, especially in Latin and South America. As the Wall Street Journal noted in February, “Around the world, the ratio of Catholics to priests has risen sharply in recent decades, to 3,100-to-1 in 2015 from 1,900-to-1 in 1980, according to Vatican statistics. It is especially high in South America--7,100-to-1, almost four times as high as in North America.” The logic follows: If we let men who want to have sex and get married become priests, more men would want to become priests. Pope Francis has hinted that he’s in favor of discussing the idea, and, in October 2019, bishops from the Amazon are set to travel to the Vatican for a synod that may ultimately have married priests on the agenda.
“If the majority of the bishops ask for it, then, I do think the pope will grant it,” Reese said, suggesting there might be a sort of domino effect if that occurs, and that priest marriage could start locally before spreading to other regions.
What limited (and less-than-scientific) survey data exists from the early 2000s suggests many American priests have long been open to a dialogue on the topic. And it’s been on the table, as a realistic suggestion, since Vatican II, when those disciplines Petro mentioned (nixing Latin and so forth) were tweaked, and there was some hope that Pope John XXIII might consider revising it. “Most other religions don’t prohibit marriage [of priests],” Warren Goldstein, executive director of the Center for Critical Research on Religion, told me. “The Catholic Church has always, in its history, been able to survive, and remain as large as it is, because of its ability to adapt.”
For his part, Father Reese did acknowledge there were actual arguments against relaxing the celibacy rule--the financial burden Catholics face to provide for a priest’s family, and the idea that celibate priests might be holier than married clergy. (“I just don’t buy that,” he said. “There are a lot of married couples who are a lot holier than I am.”) But he suggested the small problems--priests having to care for their children, for example--could be overcome, and that optional celibacy could realistically happen within the next few years.
“I don’t think [getting rid of the celibacy vow] would be as disruptive as it would have been, say, 100 years ago,” agreed Kathleen Grimes, an assistant professor of religion at Villanova University, who, among other areas, studies the intersection of theology and ethics. “Because I do think, now, we see married life as a positive path for holiness.”
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anastpaul · 6 years
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Thought for the Day – 27 March – Tuesday of Holy Week 2018
In many countries of the world, the Chrism Mass is celebrated today or tomorrow, together with the renewal of the local Priests’ vows.   In my particular Diocese, this is so, therefore I hope you will join me in praying for all our priests.
“Dear brothers and sisters, each year the Chrism Mass exhorts us to return to that “yes” to the call of God which we pronounced on the day of our priestly ordination. “Adsum – here I am!”, we said like Isaiah, when he heard the voice of God, who asked him:  “Whom shall I send?   Who will go for us?”  “Here I am, send me!”, Isaiah replied (Isaiah 6:8).   Then the Lord Himself, through the hands of the bishop, laid His hands upon us and we gave ourselves to His mission.   Since then, we have travelled down various roads in following His call.   Can we always claim what Paul, after years of a service of the Gospel that was often labourious and marked by sufferings of all kinds, wrote to the Corinthians: “Therefore, since we have this ministry through the mercy shown us, we are not discouraged” (2 Cor. 4:1)?   “We are not discouraged.”   Let us pray today that our zeal may always be rekindled, so that it is constantly fed by the living flame of the Gospel.”…Pope Benedict 20 March 2008
Let us pray:
LORD JESUS CHRIST,
Eternal High Priest, you offered yourself to the Father on the altar of the Cross and through the outpouring of the Holy Spirit gave your priestly people a share in your redeeming sacrifice. Hear our prayer for the sanctification of our priests. Grant that all who are ordained to the ministerial priesthood may be ever more conformed to you, the divine Master. May they preach the Gospel with pure heart and clear conscience. Let them be shepherds according to your own Heart, single- minded in service to you and to the Church and shining examples of a holy,simple and joyful life. Through the prayers of the Blessed Virgin Mary, your Mother and ours,draw all priests and the flocks entrusted to their care to the fullness of eternal life where you live and reign with the Father and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.
AMEN
BENEDICTUS PP. XVI
Holy Priest of God, Blessed Louis-Edouard Cestac, please pray for all our priests, amen.
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(via AnaStpaul – Breathing Catholic)
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