#the unconquerable will and the study of revenge

[telestoapologist]

DESTINY 2 AS TUMBLR TEXT POSTS 💠💬✨

(30/?)

[numbers-31-blog]

We seek no reward. Unlike Christians, the Satanist does not respond to promises of a reward or threats of punishment. Like our Lord, we are implacable, inexorable. Our only desire is to fight beside Lord Satan at Armageddon. Who cares if we win or lose, so long as we never surrender!

“What though the field be lost? All is not Lost; the unconquerable will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, And the courage never to submit or yield.”

John Milton | Paradise Lost

Hail Lucifer!

[isiaiowin]

GOetry: This is going to be EPIC

Welcome to GOetry! A weekly poetry club.

Every Monday, you'll receive a new poetry prompt and have until the following Monday to submit your poetic creations. Come join the fun! Post your finished work under the #GOetry and don't forget to tag me @isiaiowin so I can see your work.

You can also add your work to the AO3 collection here.

Last week’s prompt was so much fun! I loved reading all your rare pairs! Thank you for joining in and sharing such moving, fun, and beautiful narrative poems. This week, we’ll continue exploring the narrative form.

This week’s prompt:

EPIC

What is an EPIC poem?

An epic poem is a lengthy narrative written in verse, focusing on the heroic deeds of an extraordinary individual, group, or event. It is characterized by elevated language, majestic settings, and an episodic structure.

Ok >> CALM DOWN << I’m not going to make you write a poem as long as the Iliad (15000 lines yikes). Write one episode, doesn’t matter how long it is, in the most over the top, descriptive language you can muster, describing how great your hero is. Make it so majestic it could fill a symphonic metal album. Flaming swords and all. Did your Azi fight Dragons off the eastern gate? Go for it!

Choose your hero:*

The Guardian Of The Eastern Gate

The Original Tempter

Or any of the following

DEATH

War

Famine

Pollution

*Any other magnificent being you want to praise EPICALLY is, of course, welcome.

Example:

Paradise Lost - John Milton

Though chang'd in outward lustre; that fixt mind And high disdain, from sence of injur'd merit, That with the mightiest rais'd me to contend, And to the fierce contention brought along Innumerable force of Spirits arm'd That durst dislike his reign, and me preferring, His utmost power with adverse power oppos'd In dubious Battel on the Plains of Heav'n, And shook his throne.   What though the field be lost? All is not lost; the unconquerable Will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield: And what is else not to be overcome?

(Did you see a familiar line here?)

Have Fun 💚 Moon

*Wraps herself dramatically in a dark cloak and strides from the room*

@goodomensafterdark

[ripeteeth]

“What though the field be lost?

All is not Lost; the unconquerable will,

And study of revenge, immortal hate,

And the courage never to submit or yield.”

[Lucifer upon being rejected by God.

John Milton, Paradise Lost, Book 1]

“I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.”

[The Creature upon being rejected by Victor.

Mary Shelley, Frankenstein]

“In uncertainty I am certain that underneath their topmost layers of frailty men want to be good and want to be loved. Indeed, most of their vices are attempted short cuts to love. When a man comes to die, no matter what his talents and influence and genius, if he dies unloved his life must be a failure to him and his dying a cold horror.”

[John Steinbeck, East of Eden]

“The world resists me and I resist the world.”

[Grendel.

John Gardner, Grendel]

[ageofempires4]

All is not lost, the unconquerable will, and study of revenge, immortal hate, and the courage never to submit or yield.

[victusinveritas]

All is not lost; the unconquerable Will

And study of revenge, immortal hate,

And courage never to submit or yield

- John Milton, “Paradise Lost” (1667)

[pro-anomalocaris]

Alrekr the Unconquerable bared his teeth at the approaching mortal.

The man seemed unbothered by it, instead kneeling down beside him on the ground. He was a thin, serious-faced man with glasses and nary a weapon on him, yet he did not hesitate to go to the cursed enchanter's side. His voice was quiet and controlled as he asked something. It was the same question, repeated in several languages, until he landed upon one both of them spoke. What his accent was, Alrekr couldn't even guess, and his grammar was flawed, but it was at least intelligible.

"Can you understand me?" he asked. Alrekr studied him, trying to ascertain if this was real or just another dream that felt real; he focused on the voice, as if the sound would give him clarity. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I can." He leaned forward, fangs glimmering, glinting in the reflection of himself in the man's glasses. "Do you not know, mortal? Do you not see whose prison you're standing in?"

"I've seen worse," he said. It wasn't a brag, simply a casual statement. "I'm more concerned about you than about the prison. You were yelling at people for quite a while, telling them they weren't real. It was... concerning."

Alrekr snorted. "Had you been tricked and deceived as I have been in my life, you might understand the need for caution, little human."

The mortal didn't even pretend to be fooled by this, instead merely giving Alrekr a contemplative, piercing look. His eyes were the darkest brown Alrekr had ever seen, calm and warm like coal in a fireplace, his complexion a smooth, cool taupe. The white in his hair was beginning to overtake the black, though his face was that of a man perhaps in his 50's at the most. Alrekr could not identify the nation of origin associated with the man's clothing. Since he didn't know any of the languages the man had spoken, either, he could only assume this to be some sort of traveling scholar. That was a far cry from the warriors of old who he had once fought off by the dozen - none of whom would have ever sat down beside Alrekr as if he were a brother in arms at all, let alone so easily.

"My daughter led the archaeological team that uncovered this cavern. Her grasp on Old Norse isn't flawless, but her observation is keen. You were in such distress that you didn't answer her questions, and if you were simply being cautious about illusions, you would have interrogated her or her team. Something is wrong." Defying all logic, the man placed a hand lightly on Alrekr's shoulder. "I can't imagine what you've been through, or what you must be feeling. But I'm here. This isn't an illusion. You are not alone."

No one had touched Alrekr in a thousand years. No one had placed a hand gently like this on his shoulder in much more than that. It had been so, so long, almost long enough to forget such things could even happen, that they were possible. The hand felt warm. There was weight to it. Alrekr's chest ached, his heart kicking up as if he were under attack in the throes of combat, though the man scarcely possessed the power to harm him. Someone was here. Someone was actually here. That meant he had made it out. He was free. That meant it was over, it was finally over, it was - no, if there was a sorcerer left to renew the spell, it wasn't, he needed to run, he needed to plan his revenge - no, no, they'd be expecting that, they'd strike him as he fled - no, he was being too hasty, couldn't some sorcerers create illusions that felt real? But it was warm. None of the illusions he'd encountered had ever felt warm before-

"Breathe," the human advised, squeezing his shoulder. "You're hyperventilating." The foreign word was awkward in the otherwise adequate Old Norse. "Breathe slowly. Just listen to me, and match mine, alright?"

Alrekr tried to sit up straighter and be imposing, despite the exhaustion that had set in over the years. "I am no babe in arms in need of soft words! I am the Nightmare of the North, the Scourge of the Ice, the - the -" He couldn't catch his breath.

Despite the immortal's protests, the other man simply squeezed his shoulder again, as if they were companions. "Breathe. Count to three. Bitta, ikki, uch..."

"What... what language-?"

"My native tongue." He smiled, briefly. "Hold it in for three and then let it out for three. Match me."

He tried. He tried not to think about the fact that his own daughter was long dead, not 'leading archaeological digs', whatever that was. He tried not to think about how his dog must have died wondering when he would come home. Most of all he tried not to think about the possibility that this wasn't real and he wasn't free, was never going to get out, would never feel the sun on his face again, oh, Norns, was this just another trick of the mind, another punishment? Alrekr struggled to breathe. He struggled to even hear the mortal's breathing.

"Stay with me," the man said firmly, with the conviction of someone who believed he could do it. "Stay with me."

"I - it's - it is loud, in my head," the former Nightmare of the North replied, haltingly, "I am trying, I..."

"Redirect your thoughts for now. I know you've got a lot to process, and you will, but we need to get you out of this cave first." He looked into the panicking immortal's eyes steadily. "Bitta, ikki, uch. Repeat it in your head. Bitta, ikki...?"

"Uch." He swallowed past the lump in his throat, forcing his gaze off of the cavern floor, which looked like it had in the other dreams, and onto the strangely-clothed traveling scholar. Alrekr had not seen him before. His countenance did not stir up bad memories. With some effort, he managed to hold the air in him for a count of three, and then, with his guide verbalizing the numbers, push it out for three.

What Alrekr had thought to be a trick of the light was not. By the time he was steady enough to stand, leaning on the mortal's shoulder for support, dawn's light was coming in at the far end of the path leading out of the cavern. They trudged steadily towards the exit. It seemed impossibly far away. He didn't know what lay beyond it, what this mortal would ask for in return for his kindness and what company this man might keep - sorcerers with grudges, descendants of warriors Alrekr had wronged? He tried to turn his mind from it.

Yet there was no more mental safety in thinking of his present situation and what he had endured. Alrekr's legs and hands shook. He did not know why they did, if it was cold or weakness or a feature of his broken mind. He also didn't know where they might be going. Every ally he had ever had was long dead - no. Do not think of it. Bitta, ikki, uch. Bitta, ikki, uch...

"What's your name?" Alrekr asked, wishing his voice was as it used to be, instead of disused and rough.

"Yeruslan. You can call me Rus, if you'd like. And you're Alrekr, right? That's what the inscription said." Yersulan's arm around Alrekr's torso tightened as the ancient magician nearly stumbled. "Careful. The ice is there, even if it doesn't look like it."

"Aye. I suppose that much will never change." He looked at Yeruslan, trying to divine motives from the unreadable, solemn expression the man wore. "I've never heard a name such as yours before."

"Back when you were sealed away, none of my people had set foot in this country - or any of the neighboring ones, either. We still don't travel much, usually."

"But you do. You, and your daughter." He wondered at that, at the lack of reference to a wife, but perhaps the woman was simply not as adventurous as her husband and child and found venturing into caves in the far north not to be to her liking. "Why?"

"I've always loved languages. There was a limit on how many I could learn or use in my home country. So I left. And Nilufar has gone even further abroad than I have, chasing her own dreams." He shrugged, as if this were a natural course for a life to take, in his opinion. "I used to study psychology. My daughter thought it might help with getting you through what you've been through."

Alrekr wanted to bare his teeth again at him, for the insinuation he was weak and in need of help, but Yeruslan was guiding him towards the light, and abruptly, he found it impossible to speak. Light. Real sunlight. He instinctively perked up. Without realizing it, he began to move faster, heart pounding as he felt fresh air on his face. It didn't matter that it was the cold of the early Icelandic mountain morning. The air was still warmer than the cave by far. Abruptly, he hauled himself away from the scholar and darted for the exit.

He stumbled and fell, but only after he'd cleared the exit and managed to break into the sun. The ground was so soft under his knees. The frosty grass was like silk in his hands. It stirred up emotions he couldn't even name. Alrekr sucked in chestfuls of sweet, sweet air, barely daring to believe this was real. After a thousand years - after hundreds of thousands of days - after yelling himself hoarse calling for help every time he heard someone in the cave and not being heard, he was finally out, finally free.

Yeruslan knelt beside him and put an arm around him. Alrekr found it hard to stop breathing quickly, or keep from feeling dizzy. He looked at the mortal in the sunlight and barely registered what he was looking at as a person. It had been so long since he'd seen a person. It had been so long since he'd seen the sun.

"We need to get you out of here," Yeruslan said quietly. "You need food, and something to drink, and most importantly, people don't need to know you're back. I know this is a lot to process, but I need you to come with me. Can you get up?"

He was so dazed by it all he didn't even remember to be insulted. He simply nodded and took the outstretched hand, and allowed himself to be led to a strange metal case with wheels. Somehow it came alive under Yeruslan's touch. That should have been alarming. Instead it felt good, to have it rumble around him, a reminder he was not trapped. The mortal secured some sort of strap over Alrekr, and then they were in motion. With every second, the cavern and its' prison of enchanted stone drifted further and further away, never to be set foot in again, possibly never to be laid eye on again.

He shut his eyes and basked in the morning light, letting it warm his skin just as much as the heat from this strange cart did.

Alrekr did not know what the future held. But it existed at all, and that was enough.

The big bad had been sealed for a thousand years and finally was released. Turns out, a thousand years of solitary confinement isn’t great psychologically.

[juliansummerhayes]

“All is not lost, the unconquerable will, and study of revenge, immortal hate, and the courage never to submit or yield.” ― John Milton, Paradise Lost

[lusiikka]

If thou beest he; But O how fall’n! how chang’d 

From him, who in the happy Realms of Light  

Cloth’d with transcendent brightness didst out-shine 

Myriads though bright: If he Whom mutual league, 

United thoughts and counsels, equal hope 

And hazard in the Glorious Enterprize, 

Joynd with me once, now misery hath joynd  

In equal ruin: into what Pit thou seest 

From what highth fall’n, so much the stronger prov’d 

He with his Thunder: and till then who knew 

The force of those dire Arms? yet not for those, 

Nor what the Potent Victor in his rage  

Can else inflict, do I repent or change, 

Though chang’d in outward lustre; that fixt mind 

And high disdain, from sence of injur’d merit, 

That with the mightiest rais’d me to contend, 

And to the fierce contention brought along  

Innumerable force of Spirits arm’d 

That durst dislike his reign, and me preferring, 

His utmost power with adverse power oppos’d 

In dubious Battel on the Plains of Heav’n, 

And shook his throne.  “… What though the field be lost? 

All is not lost—the unconquerable will, 

And study of revenge, immortal hate, 

And courage never to submit or yield: 

And what is else not to be overcome? 

That glory never shall his wrath or might 

Extort from me. To bow and sue for grace 

With suppliant knee, and deify his power 

Who, from the terror of this arm, so late 

Doubted his empire—that were low indeed; 

That were an ignominy and shame beneath 

This downfall; since, by fate, the strength of Gods, 

And this empyreal sybstance, cannot fail; 

Since, through experience of this great event, 

In arms not worse, in foresight much advanced, 

We may with more successful hope resolve 

To wage by force or guile eternal war, 

Irreconcilable to our grand Foe, 

Who now triumphs, and in th’ excess of joy 

Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heaven.” 

[lumierecharity]

GOOD SHEPHERD CHURCH SEMINARY

SERMON ON THE MOUNT: LOVE WITH THE LOVE OF GOD

GOOD SHEPHERD CHURCH SEMINARY

MODULE 69

SERMON ON THE MOUNT:

LOVE WITH THE LOVE OF GOD

Choose not to become bitter

Jesus tells us to love our enemies, and pray for those who persecute us. It is important to note that Jesus did not ask us to love our enemies with the same warm affection we feel for those very dear to us. Rather than the love of the heart it is the love of the will; we choose not to become bitter. We avoid falling into the pitfall of dislike and hatred. 

We forgive the unforgivable by choosing not to seek retaliation. This meekness does not denote weakness, rather strength. By choosing to forgive, we are freed from a lifetime's pursuit of revenge. 

Do not seek revenge

This does not mean that we allow individuals to do what they like, unchecked. True love means that healthy boundaries must be set in place in family, community and society. However, we do not seek revenge. Punishment, too, should be remedial; aimed at cure, not vengeance. [1] 

Love your enemies and pray for persecutors

Jesus taught during His Sermon on the Mount, "You have heard that it was said, 'Love your neighbour and hate your enemy. But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes the sun to rise on the evil and and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect." [2]

Created to be like God

In the beginning, humankind was created to be like God (3). The characteristics of God include universal benevolence, unconquerable goodwill, the ongoing search for the highest good of everyone.  We are called to replicate in our life the unwearied, forgiving, sacrificial benevolence of God. So, the one who cares for others become perfect.

We realize the nobility of our humanity by becoming godlike. The love which never ceases to care for others, no matter what others may do to it, makes us like God.

Learn to forgive and love - be perfect

We realize our humanity, become perfect, when we learn to forgive, to love as God loves. This is the great Commandment of Jesus Christ, given on the mountain; "Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect." (4)

[1] Barclay, William. The Daily Study Bible. Gospel of Matthew, Vol 1; CH 1 - 10. Revised Edition. 1981. St Andrew Press: Scotland. Page 175

[2] Gospel of St Matthew, Chapter 5, verses 43 to 48

[3] Genesis 1:26-27

[4] Matthew 5:48

With thanks to William Barclay and the Bible

[childkingofhell]

”…the loss thereupon Paradise wherein he was placed.”

Book one of Paradise Lost sets the scene of all the hosts of hell immediately after they have been thrown from heaven, dazed in a fiery lake. This is where we meet the protagonist of the novel, Satan and sees his first definable character traits: courage, confidence, and determination. The devil instead of exploding with rage at his forces instead rallies them in saying, “All is not lost; the unconquerable will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield; (And what is else not to be overcome?) That glory never shall his wrath or might Extort from me, to bow and sue for grace With suppliant knee and deify his power, Who from the terror of his arm so late Doubted his empire.” Despite his falling in conquering Heaven, he is still confident in his cause and command. He also talks to his troops much like a heroic leader would encouraging them to stand strong and with pride. It is really interesting for Lucifer to be framed in this light, especially right after his failed rebellion against the almighty. One would expect anger, fear, frustration, cowardice. Instead Milton’s Satan who despises weakness and is set in his goals. This heroic leader set up frames Lucifer as the hero for the rest of the poem, and down he line in history as a sympathetic figure.

Leonard, John 1940-, and John Milton. Paradise Lost (Book I). Penguin Books, 2000.

[nevenabadr]

50 Shades of You! Tom Hiddleston X Female! Reader

Note: This is my first ever fanfiction for Tom Hiddleston. I have not written fiction for ages. English is not my first language.

Inspiration: this is inspired by:

“I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes.”

–Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing

Word count: 2660

Warnings: Romance, sweet words, and smut–this is +21 and not for everyone.

Enjoy reading and please comment with your feedback. 💚

-------------------------------------------------------

During the summer Cambridge University was having a conference "Gothic Elements In John Milton's Paradise Lost." As you the young professor of literature, the coordinate manager suggested that the University alumnus could join for not just attending, but acting a piece of the tragedy. Amongst the candidates was the Classic department graduate and famous actor, Tom Hiddleston. 

You know that he might have scheduled issues or time conflicts, but you suggested the committee email him. To your surprise, he accepted the offer. 

 

The scene of choice was casting the devil out of hell.

On the stage during the conference eve, you did not have the perfect time to watch him, but you took a glimpse of acting from far.

He even caught your show and face attending the rehearsals.

The conference day was pressuring. You were trying to get everything right, in the middle of your so-close meltdown. A voice brought you to reality, "Hello, is this professor Y/N)?"

You turned to find the British handsome alumni smiling peacefully at you. "Yes, how can I help you?"

"Indeed, I am the one offering help." As he adjusted his glasses, I asked the committee manager to take upon some errant backstage. Maybe I can assist with the front ceremony?"

"Of course," you paused for a moment, "can you help me with the dinner's seats arrangement? My assistant is absent and I have to print and arrange them myself."

"Just show me a computer and all will be done."

Both of you took your time arranging an evening missing up some seats. 

 

"Here comes my name. You will be seated with the professors, of course!" He was busy putting name tags over the table.

"Oh! Don't remind me." You replied as if it is a conversation with an old friend and continued "the Classic department and Literature."

"They might start a war." Both of you started laughing 

"I have an idea." He took a tag from his table and moved yours next to his. "Now you will be with a friend"

The presentations finished, you had to go for the gym showers to change and wear your conference and dinner dress.

By the time you arrived, the scene from the tardy was about to be played. You took your place in the front seat.

Tom was playing Satan. He noticed that you were reciting the lines with him. He even almost smiles at you. Could not hold himself from looking at you in the front row while playing the scene of...

 

"All is not lost; the unconquerable Will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield; (And what is else not to be overcome?) That glory never shall his wrath or might Extort from me to bow and sue for grace With suppliant knee and deify his power, Who from the terror of his arm so late Doubted his empire[.] (I, 106–114)"

 

Your facial expressions captured his eyes, the movement of your lips and then the flame of your applause. 

At the dinner, he was interested to hear all about your work and writings. His eyes could not able to leave you.

 

By the end of the dinner, he walked you to your car, "this was lovely, thank you for tonight" 

You smiled at him, "thank you for accepting our invitation."

You shake hands and opened your car door like the gentleman he is.

"Would you like to go out with me, for a coffee? Books and coffee, maybe." He did not hesitate to ask.

"I would love to. You already have my number within the conference contact information." You raised an eyebrow and smirked.

As your car drove away, he knew he was up for an adventure.

Three months later, you are happily dating and sharing sweet kisses. He suggested a film marathon. Each week one of you chose a topic.

That Saturday's topic was Russian Literature and you had to add: "or inspired by it" 

"Excuse me, but Tolstoy has no comparison!" He grimaced

"Shadow and Bones, love!" You teased him, "it the Netflix adaption of the era" 

"After Anna Karenina, please," he sounded like an old professor.

"Alright then, deal." You tickled him and kissed his lips softly

Both of you enjoyed Anna Karenina, however, you were crying in his arms.

"That dreadful ending." 

He hugged you "Hey, Shadow and Bones will make it up to you, let me make extra popcorn." Once again, he kissed you.

He came back with popcorn that will at least survive three episodes. You snuggled between his arms.

"Look at Alexie, how he said 'Make me your villain.'" 

You were swooning as a fangirl.

"I beg your pardon, I am literally a villain," he complained

Oh! I would literally," stressing upon the last word, "let him have me"

His face was irritated and you not coming close to making love made him anxious, that you might not be ready. He never inquired about you.   

You caressed his tummy, "hey, a penny for your thoughts, sir." It sounded like one of the Jack the Ripper prostitutes, about which you have constantly been talking.

His voice evolved deeper and his eyes did not leave yours "your deepest sexual desire. What do you crave?"

Comparing to your age, you were nervous and inexperienced. "My life was spent between books. I..."

He did not let you continue speaking and took your lips between his drawing your body closer to him, uttering between his hot kisses "I am not just a villain" his lips made the earth move "I am a God" whispering against the sport skin of your nick " a king" his hands were moving down the same tomes his lips reached the line of your bosom whilst his hand slides prevailed touching down pussy and dug his fingers driving you till the edge.

"I want you," you whispered between your soft moans.

He neglected your cravings and maintained his rhythm, watching your complexion and closed eyes till you arched your back in awe.

You collapsed between his arms heavily breathing "that was extremely wonderful, but I need you"

He kissed your lips playfully. "you are a delicious girl, Y/N, but..."

You hashed him with a kiss that he pulled from "if your life was between books, I want you to write me your deepest desire."

"Darling, it was a series, Alexie is fictional." You wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Fictional or not, he is a man, you are paying for this." 

He was deadly serious "write me your longing."

You laugh "What? Like the 50 Shades of Y/N?"

He gazed into your eyes "aiming to please and punish you, darling, avenging my honour"

The next morning when you were with your family on Sunday's lunch, he opened an email titled "50 Shades of Y/A"

 

The content was as follows:

"You!"

 

He grinned to himself and determined to show her how fiction can become real.

Your week was busy. He had signed a new contract for a mini-series and was supposed to film soon.

Not replying to your email made you nervous, even went meeting for dinner. He was quiet about it. 

You checked your sent box millions of times to make sure it arrived. Still, you knew he was busy working, and you were busy with the finals coming soon.

Thursday’s dinner, nothing yet, nothing but gaggling and discussing your days and current reads. 

"Darling, we did not decide this week's marathon" 

He did not take his eyes off the menu "Are not you having a big family week, you should go" he was confident and calm. 

Deep inside you wanted to grab his neck and jiggle him, but for the lady you are and the restaurant, you were calm.

"Wonderful!"

The dinner was over; he drove you home, kissed you goodnight.

Saturday morning, a ringing at your door. Apparently, you received a package, a big one.

You kept thinking that some books might have come early from your publisher. Unwrapping it to a surprise satin 1950 coat with Ruby red entourage and black heels.

There was also a note, she recognised the handwriting:

 

"Wear nothing but this for your punishment. If other pieces were found upon your body, then fear my fury and vengeance.

Love, 

T"

 

So, it was her version of Mr Grey. But have you ever been ready to comply with anyone?"

Suddenly, a message arrived on your phone 

"Reminder, a black will pick you tonight at 8, don't disobey me, Princess."

Your heel clicked on the floor as a man dressed in an old fashion suit opened the car for you. The windows were blacked out, so you did not see where it was heading.

"Welcome, Princess," he greeted you as if you were royalty, "My master is awaiting your presence."

You took his hands. The place was carved out of one of your favourite dark fantasies, a mansion with gargoyles, dark lighting, and a vast garden.

You could not believe your eyes. Tom knew your deepest desires indeed.

But that is not the end.

The inside was as of a dark enchantment with deep red flowers and candles. The servant showed you the way to a dining room fit for a feast. Tom was not there. 

"My master requires you to await his arrival." The servant bowed and left.

You were like a child been left inside her favourite toyshop. The ornaments, the lighting, and even the shapes of the food. That aesthetic you only could dream of but never reach.

"Enjoying yourself already?" You turned to find your man dressed in a black Victorian suit. His face was shaved, shorter hair, no glasses. Just all of the handsome glory.

You took a step forward "no princess, I shall come for you"

He kissed your hand and then sat on the table's head, while it sat on the opposite side and faced you away indeed.

"Are you pleased, princess?" He raised his glass of red wine.

"Yes, my Prince." You smile.

"In here, you shall address me as your king." His eyes lit with fire, and his voice was harsh.

You played along and raised an eyebrow "my king."

"This is not a game, princess, you are my prisoner"

You dined quietly, as he did not drop his eyes from you.

"Enjoying yourself?"

You flirted "deeply, my king"

He left his chair and came closer to you, his fingers left your chain so you can gaze into your eyes.

He asked, "care for a dance?"

You smiled "I would love to."

You stepped forward and took his hand to a ballroom, just for you and him, the dark king.

The following piece of music was sensual and moving.

"The coat, princess, I want to see nothing but heels on your body,"

You obeyed the king, but for a tick. When you took it off, underneath it a short emerald green strapless corset dress tight upon the curves of your body and pushed your bosoms to their glory.

He grinned and his eyes darken "looking for further punishment, I suppose?" 

"Anything to please the king." You took his hand and kissed it. He did not expect it.

He turned furiously and the next song was romantic. He wrapped his arms around you once again, waltz, you sneaky woman, deserved joy before being punished.

Twirling you on the dance floor like the earth has no one but the two of you.

By the end, he carried you "to my chambers, little one"

You were nervous and anxious. What if he did not like what was underneath the dress?

He entered a candlelight room with a four-poster bed in the centre. The curtains of the bed were black and emerald. 

He laid you in bed, kissing your lips and playing with your hair. 

His breathing was heating against your skin.

"You won't miss that dress, will you, princess?"

He did not wait for your reply as he lifted a dagger amongst the layers of his suit and cut the corset down to the last piece of the dress.

You wore nothing else. You were lying exposed as he stood to look upon your naked curves for the first time. 

You spontaneously tried to cover your bosom and private parts.

"No, do not you dare" he was angry and you could not distinguish reality from fantasy.

You throw the rest of the dress away. Hands laying by your head and he stood there for a juncture, gazing at every inch of your body.

"Turn," he ordered angrily as if the soul of Loki took over him, "I said, turn" 

You nearly dropped tears "here my king" 

You felt the softness of his lips upon your delicate shoulders.

Kissing the line of your spine. He knows this will work like magic. You tickle from your back, now trying to lick you, taste you, slap you.

He flipped you to face him. You were sobbing. He could hear it under your moans.

"You are not a princess, you are not a queen."

He wipes her tears from her cheek "you are a goddess and I am your slave."

You giggled between your tears, wrapping your arms around his neck "my king"

"Your, slave" As his voice became softer, he hushed you with a finger.

He kissed every inch of your body. You were playing with his short blonde locks.

"Let me worship your bosom, my goddess" he kissed, licked and played with your nipples and cupped your bosoms gently.

Kissing down till he reached your pussy, "Let me worship your temple" as he licked your clitoris.

You were moaning loader now

“Not this time, my king I want you inside me."

"Alright, as the pleasure of my goddess, I shall obey." 

He adjusted his weight on you and asked, "wider for me, my goddess of beauty" 

You opened for him as he enters you for the first time. You let out a loud breath "are you alright" he took your hands between his.

"Continue, my king."

He is just thrusting himself gently inside you. Your moans filling the room 

"I am a villain, a king, a god, and a man"

Your hands were free to run along his back as he continued, "a man, no, a slave for my goddess"

You were moving with him and moaning louder, "my king, what else?"

 Thursinting himself harder and moving with a faster pace.

"My goddess, the sculptures of beauty," between his breathing and moaning "Da Vinci would not be able to capture your grace"

You were kissing as your nail dug inside his shoulders.

His last whispers as moving himself inside your pussy which was clutching around his manhood. He moved with pace, as you rocked your lap against him

"I will live in thy heart," kissing your lips as you bite his lower lip between your steamy breath. "Die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes.”

He was going faster now and you were in tremendous awe and your skin was heating up with your pleasure.

"Look at me goddess" you were closing your eyes as you become close to you your orgasm "look at me," he ordered 

"I love thee, Tom," you said as your pussy was clutching around his manhood and trembling underneath him. His enormous climax followed your orgasm. 

You were shaking. He used his hands to keep himself from crushing you with his weight.

He rested his forehead on yours till both of you caught your breath. Gently took you between his arms as resting on his side "and I love thee, Y/N"

kissed you and as you were falling asleep, yet muttered, "I made you my villain, did not I?"

He giggles, "I beg your pardon, your God, King, and lover"

You kissed for the last time of that night and snuggle between peacefully each other's arms.

----------------------------------------------------

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[vulpinesaint]

ALL IS NOT LOST!!!!!! the unconquerable will; and study of revenge; immortal hate, and courage never to submit or yield.... and what else is else not to be overcome???????

[severalcakes]

“All is not lost, the unconquerable will, and study of revenge, immortal hate, and the courage never to submit or yield.“

- Paradise Lost.

Mohg Fieri

[basementdwellercreaturefeature]

“All is not lost, the unconquerable will, and study of revenge, immortal hate, and the courage never to submit or yield.” ― John Milton, Paradise Lost

[ziracona]

Paradise Lost literally starts with Satan waking up in agony, looking around with ‘baleful eyes’ to see if his ‘crew’ is okay, then giving a dope speech I mean.

“All is not lost; the unconquerable Will, 

And study of revenge, immortal hate, 

And courage never to submit or yield: 

And what is else not to be overcome?”

Milton what did you expect you can’t be like ‘it just came together this way...’ it’s the opening paragraphs. SiR