#sin wrath

"Can’t handle a little roughness? I have to show your bestie that she can’t go around being a whore. And you’re the perfect fit for telling her later on that I fucked her best friend’s brain out.”

     without  THOUGHT  OR  HESITATION ,  silas’  fist  collides  once  more  with  the  fleshy  surface  of  the  vampire’s  face.  to  him ,  however , it’s  not  a  face .  it’s  not  a  surface .  it’s  not  even  a  being  any  longer .  to  him  in  his  current  crazed  state , the  figure  beneath  his  massive ,  lead-weighted  body  is  now  an  outlet .  yes ,  that’s  the  proper  word.  the  creature  has  become  an  outlet  for  every  piece  of  anger  that  is  burning  beneath him.  he’s  trapped ,  though  he  doesn’t  know  it , in  a  FURIOUS  CONDITION  with  no  conceivable  release .  with  hatred .  towards  him .  towards  his  kind.  towards  the  world . his  fist  clench ,  pressing  his  foot  harder  into  his  stomach  to  keep  his  body  pinned  tightly  to  the  alley  ground .  he  has  no  intention  of  letting  him  run  anywhere ,  of  course ,  but  besides  his  obvious  desire  to  crush  him  perhaps  hard  enough  to  crack  a  rib  or  two ,  silas  at  a  quick  glance  does  not  seem  to  be  any  less  himself  than  he  might  have  been  five  minutes  ago .  besides ,  this  is  JUST  A  VAMPIRE .  nothing  more .  they  are  meant  to  be  exterminated . like  the  roaches  they  are.

Four - - She stood like violence was made for her, like war was a word that was used to describe her, that all that asked for mercy meant nothing, like the blood that dripped from her knuckles were blessings, as if the spread of her feet were a challenge and not a stance. She looked like how getting punched in the face felt, like the color of her skin is just left of bruises from fights she won, like the curves of her body were there to weaken those who opposed her, like each bump of her muscle is nothing but another call to war, like beauty was a word made from pain. She acted like living meant battles, as if each breath was something you earned, as if not being an active part of the battle meant you deserved death, as if lies and slander were a cowards way out, as if there was a fire that burned inside her that would only be satisfied with danger. She is Wrath.

According to the Catechism of the Catholic Church, the neutral act of anger becomes the sin of wrath when it's directed against an innocent person, when it's unduly strong or long-lasting, or when it desires excessive punishment. "If anger reaches the point of a deliberate desire to kill or seriously wound a neighbor, it is gravely against charity; it is a mortal sin." Hatred is the sin of desiring that someone else may suffer misfortune or evil and is a mortal sin when one desires grave harm.

purple is my fav color tho

small gay

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