“My understanding of God has come from my own personal experiences… because I was in trouble so many times in New York that if you were me, you would believe in God too. When things get bad enough, your only resort is to lie in bed and start praying. I dunno about congregating once a week in a church and all that, but when I heard there is a divine power you can call on, I did.“
“Well, I mixed it with my studies in theology, because it was the best school for the Jesuit faith and all of the Jesuits taught philosophy classes. There was just a lot of talk about going back to that basic question: Why do we exist? How did reality come to be? Why do we do what we do? And how not to become the butcher, the baker, the candlestickmaker, the guardians of the middle-class—that really interested me. I don’t know. Yeah, I loved being around people who wondered why we were here.”
“I guess I would say that the beautiful thing about feeling connected to something greater is that even at my lowest point I always have a feeling that I’m being taken care of. “
“And Jesus—I mean, being raised Catholic, it was just a way of life. Spirituality and religion were strong. I was in Catholic school until I was 13. Like a lot of other people, I think foundationally I was hymn inspired—musical hymns, not Him, Jesus. [Laughs.]”
“Like so many people, they always state the difference between faith and religion. The faith that I’ve come to find is a science of my own through lots of trials and errors. I’ve been through so many different walks of life that I’ve needed to ask a lot of questions that no human power can answer. I’ve had to seek a lot of guidance. I’ve had to pray a lot because I’ve been in trouble a lot. But it’s not until you do that that you realize there are answers out there to be found.”
To thine own self be true. Seek and ye shall find. There’s a science to prayer, I would say. I think sometimes when you’re really faced with a huge life dilemma or problem and you’ve turned to every sort of thing for answers, sometimes the last resort is to pray and to put out a question to the universe in your mind. Even when you put your question out there, you ask that invisible whoever “What do I do?” you sort of get answers; you forget the problem all over again.”
“I went to a Catholic school called St. Agnes and I loved going to church. I was very interesting and curious about the idea of a divine plan and that there was something bigger than us out there. I don’t have a traditional Catholic view of religion or God though – but I enjoy the feeling of being looked after in the spiritual sense.”
She attended a Catholic elementary school called St. Agnes, and was the cantor of the church across the street. “I loved church,” says Del Rey. “I loved the mysticism, the idea of something bigger, the idea of a divine plan. For me, the concept of religion transitioned into a really healthy idea of God–I don’t have the traditional views of a conservative Catholic, but my imagination was opened within the big blue-and-gold cathedral walls. I liked the idea of being looked after.”
I would say, ‘I don’t know what’s going to happen.’ She’d say, ‘God didn’t save you from drowning just to beat you up on the shore. All you really need is patience when you have persistence.”
“I feel a strong relationship with God and I feel my ties are with him. That’s how I honestly feel. Everything I do, I do it for somebody I’ve never met before, something in the great beyond. That’s my primary relationship, really, is with something divine. I feel a connection as real with that as I’ve ever had with anybody on this earth.”
“There’s one song called “God Knows I Tried” which has a little gospel feel to it.”
afar their cries sound like skywhale song, lilting melodically on the
breeze as their serpentine bodies twist and swoop and twirl in the
distance. The way they dance in the sky, entwining one another as
they glide effortlessly in lazy circles, you might almost think them
didn’t know better.
count them in your think pan. Five of them, still five. Still far
away. They haven’t noticed you all the way back here, back pressed up
against a stone pillar in the ruins of a cathedral crypt. One wall
has crumbled away completely, exposing a sheer ledge of rock beneath
and granting you a breathtaking view of your land, all intricate but
decaying architecture scattered in every direction as if they’d
sprouted from seeds carelessly thrown across the entire surface of
this forsaken world. They may as well have sprung up like weeds; the
illusion of age and purpose is just that; an illusion. In reality,
these walls and pillars and arches serve only one purpose. To keep
you alive and provide cover as you hunt down every last one of those
stinking hope-forsaken angels and put them out of their misery.
been watching them for a while now. It feels like hours, but time has
very little meaning down here. Five minutes can feel like an entire
day. A day can flash by in mere moments. But you’re sure of one
thing. Those same five angels have been carousing above the distant
skyline ever since you first transportalised down here today,
blissfully oblivious of their certain fate. You’re not sure why you
haven’t moved from this spot yet. Staring at them won’t do anything,
and you’re too far away to shoot them from here, regardless of your
enviable marksmanship skills.
Ohh what about rough sex with Jack? Like heat of the moment stuff
A/N: Had fun with this, also didn’t proofread…don’t hate me lol This also takes care of a few requests I got for him so…yeah.
You had known Jack for some time now, and despite the quiet nature he showed in public you knew the person he really was. The young sculptor was a sweet, caring, and gentle man, but beneath that was a passion not even silence could hide. And it was a strong passion he chose to bestow upon you on more than one occasion. Whether that be in the barn, or the yet to be built cathedral, he took every moment with you as a chance to have you all to himself.
“Let me have you…”
His words took a moment to process, but as his toughened fingertips slid along your inner thighs, spreading them wide to allow himself between them you understood what he wanted.
“Jack, not her-ah!”
A whimper fell from your lips, eyes screwing shut as he nipped the top of your exposed breasts. His warm tongue slid along the bruise that was forming, and you’d be lying if you said a heat didn’t automatically begin to build inside you.
The sculptor just groaned deep in his throat, caressing his lips across your chest as he undid the ties of his pants. He freed his aching length from the confines of his trousers, stroking himself slowly for a moment before prodding at your entrance.
You dug your nails into his shoulders, gasping loudly as he roughly pushed into you, stretching your walls to accommodate his size.
He silenced you with kiss, licking along your bottom lip as he bucked forward, the sound of skin hitting skin filling the cathedral walls.
“I love you…unh…m-more than anything.”
His words were strained, forced out as he tried not to growl and grunt too loudly. Last thing either of you needed was to alert a monk to your sinful pleasures.
You slid your fingers up the slick skin of his neck, tangling them in his red hair as you moaned against his mouth. Your breaths mingled together, both of you trying to reach that high that would have you coming back for more later on. It was always like this, him surprising you, making you giggle or smile as he kissed along your ticklish neck and begged for a quick tryst. You always tried to deny him, yet with those green eyes, and pleasant smile it was always a losing battle.
His thrusts grew feverish, hips snapping forward harshly as he tried to pleasure you to the point of crying his name out. With a groan he reached over you, gripping your wrists in both hands as he slammed them back into the stone wall, restricting your movement as he continued to roll his hips down.
“Tell me you love me.”
Your face was turned to the side, lips parted in bliss as he brushed that one part of you that made every muscle contract in want. Your back arched slightly up, breasts pressing into his sweaty chest, eliciting a long satisfied moan from him.
Jack leaned down, kissing the corner of your mouth as he panted, his hot breath ghosting along your flushed cheek. He dragged his tongue down your jaw, along your pulse until he stopped at the juncture between your throat and collarbone. He gave you one last chance to say those three words, eyes half lidded as he found himself getting lost in the pleasure of your tight walls.
“Say it, Y/N.”
You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you, not wanting to cave under his demands. But, he didn’t quite accept your rebellious actions, and instead bit down on your shoulder, grunting out as he slammed his hips down, fucking you roughly into the floor as you heatedly said his name.
“J-Jack…gods sake just, please…”
You were desperate for release, your thighs already quivering in desire as he continued his strong rhythm. He nuzzled your cheek, pressing his nose into it as he smiled.
“I won’t give you what you want…”
Between his husky breaths, he chuckled at your needy whines, knowing by the end of the hour you’d be begging him.
“Until you give me what I want.”
Feedback always welcomed! ❤️
Probs going to hell for writing sex in a church but whatevs
Or – perhaps more fittingly – the Witches’ Rites of
Renunciation are meant to sever the religious ties of your own personal past.
This is done (I have found) for two distinct reasons: to shed the preconceptions
forced by organized religion, including both the doctrines and the antithetic
notion of hierarchal power in regards to Enlightenment, and as a symbol of
rebirth. Much like a baptism! Only in this instance, the sin you wash away is
the sin of religious indoctrination, hypocrisy and the very human realities
that accompany the notion of “church.” It is meant to be a freeing exercise –
one that cleanses all the malformed ideologies imbued on you throughout your
earlier life. Of course, that is easier said than done and no one ritual can
truly clear the slate completely, but it serves as a formal boundary between
the past and the future – a future in which you must relearn your understanding
of the world at large. One in which the answers presented are not set in stone,
but fluid – from which you must come to your own conclusions, test your own
theories and tessellate the scattered mythos and ideas into a cohesive faith –
you own faith, reliant wholly on none other than yourself.
That is The Witches’ Baptism, and this is one example of how
it may be performed:
Ideally, the rite should be done at a Crossroad
(of whichever type speaks to you the most) as it is a transformative ritual! Bring
with you whatever you need to light a fire in your preferred method – such as
wood for a classic bonfire, Sacred Fire to light in a bowl/cauldron/vessel, or
alcohol – which can be poured in a circle (note: isopropyl alcohol isn’t fond
of the cold or wind, so either plan according to weather or bring a backup
On site, when you are emotionally prepared, build your fire.
Depending on your chosen medium, your window of opportunity will differ greatly
(the above are listed from greatest to least burn-time), so factor this in as
well. For those of you who thoroughly enjoy taking your time, I recommend
building a true fire.
The following part should be personalized to fit your taste,
as how you wish to release the past is up to you. You can do it simply, by
speaking out loud that you rebuke the religion of your youth/past (traditionally,
this is done by rebuking the Holy Spirit of Christianity – the unforgivable
blasphemy – so as to free oneself from its vice-grip, though the renunciation
can extend to any religion [or even no religion]). As an example:
I, [name], child of [father’s name] and [mother’s name], Reared in the faith of [“Our Lord,” “Yahweh,” “Allah,” etc.]
– rebuke these laws; No longer am I bound by tomes or cathedral walls, Nor do I kneel at the altar of man – But I walk the crooked path – proud, For I was born in the Earth – In the Heart of the Tempest; And so I have become; From whence I came – so I return.
A few other options consist of writing these things out – in
as long-winded or concise a manner as you wish (these can even be written days
in advance) – or burning a symbol of the past. The flames are freeing – allow them
Purge these broken things from the mind and heart, and cast
them symbolically into the consuming fire of creation and destruction. It is
these things that stand as obstacle – let them be cleansed from you. And when
the time has come, when these things have been expressed and used as kindling
(carefully) leap the fire (and try not to wear any hairspray!). Then you are
Upon the other side, you may douse the fire, allow it to
burn out, or use this time to connect with another Spirit or Deity (I said you were free, not that you had to stay free!), Nature at large, or even
with yourself – whichever is most befitting your chosen path. Theoretically,
this could be done by an Abrahamic witch if only to cleanse the effects of church
indoctrination – for those who wish to follow the gospels/tomes in a unique or
And for those who wish to follow the Traditional Witch path
(the “origin” of the Witches’ Baptism), this would be the perfect instance to Evoke
photo source //
“Baptism of fire: Girls leap over flames as part of ancient cleansing ceremony held on the birthday of John the Baptist,” DailyMail
“You have a constellation lining the cathedral walls of your chest, a moon for a heart, and the sunlight pouring through your skin. You’re a symphony of stardust and you were born to shine.” Tyler Kent White