#father simon

[vancilart]

comfrey for the ache

[chonkymoth]

A Coward's Lament

He's known as the raving mad man living in the woods outside of Skalitz, but who, really, is the former priest of Rovna, who was driven so ill with depression and guilt that he fled all that he had once known?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/78656001

Every man is faced with a duality within himself.

Said duality takes many forms: flesh vs spirit; warmth vs coldness; love vs absence; grief vs elation. So on and so forth it goes, spanning from this life, unto purgatory, and then still after.

Some men cannot reconcile this duality. They cannot find the valley between the mountains, the clearing between the trees, nor the tide pool between the banking shoreline and the vastness of sand that lies beyond. These men are cowards. And that is something they cannot reconcile either.

'May God have mercy on them,’ a wiser man may say. But there is no wise man to tell this particular story—no king—no priest—no magi. Only a coward, who cannot reconcile all he has done. And God will not have mercy upon him, nor should He. If nothing else is certain, that alone is.

My humble submission for rarepair week, for the 8th/bonus day: free space <3

[typemoonsmashorpass]

Father Simon

smash

pass

Voting ended onJul 22, 2024

[russet-writing]

Sanctity Chapter I: The Exorcism of Mercy Howard

>>

Testing the waters with this first chapter but I can promise that future updates will have more whump and actual interactions between the demon and the Priest. Warnings are up front and center because this one gets a teensy bit graphic. A couple announcements below the story. Thanks! -Fox

Word count: 1,302

Cw: Christian themes, mentions of demons, graphic details of demonic possession and a pretty brutal exorcism, inaccurate portrayals of religion that borders on cult-like behavior, unorthodox practices, death, lady whump?

>>

The exorcism had begun at sundown, as the shadows of trees stretched and clawed at the soil, and it did not stop... Not for four hours.

Screams, blood curdling and raw, echo off the basement’s walls and ring in Father Simon’s ears. He can hear it. That demonic, rasping voice twinning with that of the young woman’s. It was as if the phlegm frothing in her mouth had caught in her throat, throttling her of all rationality. It was a clear sign of possession. As if they needed any more signs… Her back arches off the mattress, soiled with sweat and endless bouts of vomit. Watching the steel cuffs strain to hold her down, Simon begins to wonder if perhaps her wrists might snap before the chains do. It was hard for him to see her like this. He had known Mercy Howard for a long time— Or, rather, he had known of her. She used to serve in the youth ministry and had a reputation as the most docile of the Howard children, much better behaved than her sisters. She had always seemed more alive when she was with the children. He remembers seeing her dancing with them at the Christmas celebration and the heart melting smile that graced her lips as she held those small hands in hers. Mercy had been a beloved member of the community her whole life. Whatever could have changed?

“Arise from this vessel! Release this woman from your clutches, by the Father’s will!”

The clergy surround her writhing form, all spouting the words of the Lord… all except for Simon. He had never had the opportunity of attending one of the church’s exorcisms. Though, it felt less like an honor now than it did yesterday and he can do little more than watch from his place on the stairs. As if from a distance, Simon begins to recognize that parts of his mind are shutting down. His dark eyes stay locked to the woman as she convulses and growls like some feral animal snared in a trap; she is equally as helpless, he can feel it under the demonic energy. The only coherent thought he can form is: By God… It’s killing her.

“Mercy! Remember your name, Mercy!”

“May God rebuke him, we humbly pray; and do Thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host—!”

“Release her! The forces of heaven cast thee back to hell!” Father Mathew roars, his voice booming over all the others, spit flying between his gritted teeth. She rears her head back in agony or, perhaps, the demon’s defiance.

“Release her, you wicked Beast!” He demands once more, brandishing his bible at her vigorously as if trying to throw the holy words at her. For a moment, it almost seems like he might. But then, something shifts in the air… Mercy’s body gives another alarming jerk which bends one arm into a horribly awkward angle. Their voices die down. Simon watches in frozen horror as she wrenches her head backwards until her gaze meets his, her eyes bloodshot and mouth agape in a silent scream. It was as if she was staring straight through him, into his soul, invading and violating. A guttural gasp rattles in her throat… And all at once, Mercy crumples limply onto the mattress.

Silence blankets the room.

For a moment, Simon feels as though the swinging lightbulb hanging from the rafters dims. None of the men seem to want to move. Finally, Father Bernard works up the gall to step forward and kneel next to the woman’s prone form, checking for her pulse. They watch as his mouth twists into a grimace and he just shakes his head. Mercy Howard is dead.

***

That night, Simon found himself cooped up in the Church’s attic, kneeling before an altar and praying harder than he had in years. The muttering under his breath became distant and detached from his thoughts, purely muscle memory, as he recounted the events of the exorcism. And the aftermath. 

“You got it out of her, right?” Mercy’s Widowed mother, Mrs. Howard, asked urgently, peering over Simon’s shoulder at what was once her daughter. She looked as though she feared Mercy to be diseased. Disgusted. “It’s gone? That thing… it’s gone, isn’t it?” His grip tightened until his knuckles turned white. At the very least, Mercy’s sisters had wept for her. Her mother had not shed so much as a single tear and it was very evident to him that she had given up on her daughter within the first hour. Though, he reasoned internally, he did not have children of his own. He didn’t know what it was like.

So, very simply, he replies, “Yes. Mercy has been liberated, Mrs. Howard. It has no hold over her anymore.” He then drapes the sheet gently over Mercy’s remains, covering her face first; He never wanted to have to see those eyes ever again… And yet, even now as he prays so fervently, he sees them over and over like some recurring nightmare that follows him into the waking world. They were black. Black like oil. Black like the seemingly endless cavern of the old well. They were boring a hole straight through him.

Simon wipes the sweat from his brow and stares into the flickering candlelight. He wonders if he stares long enough that they might burn the image from his memory.

“Sister Catherine says we shouldn’t light candles in here anymore.” A low voice suddenly murmurs from the stairwell. Simon tenses, blinking as he looks over his shoulder to see Father Mathew standing quietly in the doorway, hands clasped comfortably behind his back. “She says it could cause a fire. We could all be burned alive in our sleep.” Simon slowly forces the line of his shoulders to relax slightly, turning back to watch the wax drip down the length of the candles and onto the very flammable oak of the altar.

“Perhaps she is right.” 

A short silence settles over them to which Simon gathers his robes and rises to his feet. He is not in the mood for idle chatter right now. As he reaches out to pinch the flame from one of the wicks, Mathew takes a small step forward, shoes clicking against the worn floorboards.

“The exorcism today… Was that your first encounter with a demon, Simon?” Simon turns to look at him fully this time, scanning the man’s expression for a long moment. He immediately thinks back on how frightened he had been throughout its entirety: petrified and clinging to the railing of the stairs like a lifeline. How humiliating would it be if it wasn’t his first time?

“It was.” Simon replies, letting his gaze drift to the floor. “I knew it wouldn’t be a pleasant process but I certainly hadn’t expected—” His voice falters; He can hear those screams again. Thankfully, Mathew seems to understand what he means. He lets out a sympathetic hum, stepping ever closer into the small space and then the man is clasping a heavy hand on his shoulder and Simon can’t help but frown.

Mathew’s voice is level and fluid as he speaks, sounding as if he were preaching the gospel with each word, “Do not allow yourself to dwell on this, Simon. Mercy has been laid to rest. She is at peace.” The man leans in closer until Simon’s eyes automatically gravitate to his: a disarming blue, a bit too dull but seemingly earnest. “We all did the best we could.” Wrong, his mind immediately snarls with startling vehemence. “She was a lost cause.” You’re wrong. 

Simon doesn’t voice these thoughts.

“I suppose so.” He replies steadily. The candles were snuffed out before he resigned to his quarters for the night and he prayed God would spare him from the nightmares.

>>

Okay, I wanted to clarify something about how the church works in the Sanctity “universe”. Essentially this is a church in a very secluded community that have put their own spin on Christianity and over time morphed it to fit their own agenda. So their practices, hierarchy and some of their beliefs are different from most sects. I won’t explain myself too much on this unless it becomes an issue because it doesn’t really feel necessary right now.

On a different note, please let me know if you would like to be added to any taglists. My asks are always open!

>>

Taglist: @isaactheterrible

[somedaytakethetime]

Allow me

to post some DILF appreciation

[cheerfullycatholic]

Tiktok gets a lot of hate (which is understandable) but CATHOLIC TIKTOK is amazing and I truly suggest checking it out. I’ll probably be posting videos from other Catholics I follow in the future

[vodkainduced]

the right one...

artist: simon dominic

genre: fluff!!

warnings: family man au!

summary: he remembers why you are the right one...

"Fuck you !"

"Yah! You bloody idiots! The boys are sleeping! " Loco whispered - shouted at them. They had been quarreling over the past five minutes in whispers before Gray took over Jay in the game.

Simon heard the commotion and slowly untangled himself quietly, praying that the two little bodies would not wake up. After five minutes, he had ensured the boys were secured by a fort of pillows and bolsters before giving both of them a kiss on the head. He slowly closed the door and made his way down. Sweats hanging off his waist, hair in a mess and face evident of tiredness.

Simon was home alone with his adorable three year old twin boys when Jay, Gray and Loco came over. He was in the midst of putting the boys down for a nap when the bell rang. Both of the boys looked at each other before running towards the door, ignoring the shouts of their appa to be careful and not fall. He sighed as they opened the door and squelead when they saw their favourite uncles.

' This would've been so much easier with y/n around.'

He thought to himself. Raking a frustrated hand through his dissheveled hair as he licked his lips for moisture. Clearly jealous and annoyed. He loved his sons, but at times. He wasn't in the mood.

You weren't home. Why? Simon had noticed you slaving inbetween your job and your sons. It wasn't that Simon wasn't a good father. He was an amazing father to both the boys. He played with them, send them to school, picked them up, brought them on little 'father and son' dates. He did all the little adorable things not many fathers would do nor could achieve.

However, you noticed how he had been struggling to push out his album. Countless of sleepless nights, coming home at wee hours in the morning, avoiding meals, five minutes of face to face interaction and of course minimal 'family time'. You didn't know why he hadn't told you of his struggle, and instead of getting into petty fights you stood by him and supported him. Took care of him and the boys, over looking household matters, giving him space, time, comfort and no doubt your love.

You wanted him to focus on his career, his passion. It was the best and worse for him, but he loved it. To see the fire in his eyes slowly burn out was the most heart shattering scene. You slowly pampered him, in hopes the flame would return and thankfully the flame indeed slowly returned. You were estatic and continued with your silent struggle. The thought of Simon and your sons kept you on the go. It didn't matter if he didn't notice this, you didn't want him to. He would doubt his ability of being a good husband and father even when he wasnt.

He of course noticed,his heart exploded with loved. One night, he was awoken by the emptiness of the bed. Those few nights Simon had gotten pretty clingy and wouldnt sleep without you beside him. You noticed how he wouldnt wake up even if you werent there and had continued to wake up at wee hours of the morning to cook his lunch. And he had caught you cooking at four in the morning, watching you slave over the stove in his shirt and boxers. Hair tied in a messy bun, face evident of tiredness and yet eyes filled with love and concern. He knew at that moment, he married the right one.

'' -ung ! Hyung ! "

He looked up at the three males looking at him worriedly.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded as he sighed.

"Where's y/n ?" Loco asked as he gave Simon a bottle of water. He smiled at the mention of his wife and the boys started smirking at how whipped their hyung was.

_

thank you for reading, do continue to send in requests!! working on some right now !!

[somedaytakethetime]

Simon Kjær's hands appreciation post?

Simon Kjær's hands appreciation post.