#roman Sions x reader

[lacontroller1991]

Whumptober Day 5: Roman Sionis x F!Reader

Main Master List || Whumptober Master List

Day 5: Hostage/Kidnapping/Held at Gunpoint

Summary: With reader now being known as Roman Sionis’s girlfriend, she becomes an easy target.

WARNINGS: 18+ Graphic depiction of physical assault, graphic mention of blood/bruises/swelling, gang violence, mention of drugs, reader didn't know that Sions runs a mob, graphic depiction of murder, gun usage, slight PTSD

The room is cold and dark. You don’t know where you are but you definitely know that you’re not back at home. Home. A place where you were ripped away from without anyone knowing. A harsh hand slaps across your face, causing your head to whip to the side. “I’m going to ask you this one more time, where is Sionis keeping his supply.” You let out a whimper as the man you don’t know grips onto your face, squishing your already aching face in between his short, fat fingers. 

“I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Another slap lands across your face as you spit out some blood. 

“So you’re meaning to tell me that Sionis’s little pet doesn’t know where he’s storing the drugs?” The man snarls as your eyes widen. Drugs? What on earth is he talking about? Sure, Roman is a bit… eccentric, but he wouldn’t be dealing drugs. Would he?

“What drugs?” You cry out, the rope binding your arms to the chair rubbing your skin raw as the man backs up, looking you over.

“Do you seriously not know that your lover is a crime boss?” He laughs as the others around you also laugh, confusion among other feelings predominating your emotions.

“He owns a club. That’s all he does.” You try to defend but something tells you that even you don’t believe it.

“Oh you sweet, sweet child. You really don’t have a clue. Roman Sionis owns a club, it’s true. But he is also one of the crime lords supplying Gotham with its drug problem.”

“No, you’re wrong.” Tears well in your eyes as your brain starts putting the pieces together. The random stains in some of his clothes. The faint smell of gunpowder. The random screams you hear. His off-putting behavior. It all makes sense now. Sensing your revelation, the man motions to two of the guys behind you. 

“Take her away.”

—-------

“Roman.” Zsasz walks in, a packet in his hands as Roman looks up from his desk, hair messy and still in his pajamas.

“What is it? Did you find her?” He walks around the desk towards his right hand man. The first few hours of your disappearance Roman has just thought that you finally decided to leave him and he threw a rage fit. He really only calmed down when Zsasz pointed out the fact that all of your stuff is still in the apartment and nothing was missing, only you. Which led to the conclusion that you have been taken. In which Roman quickly mobilized his men to try and hunt you down.

Handing Roman the file, Zsasz quickly steps away, knowing that Roman would likely throw another fit once he sees the contents. Opening the file, he pulls out the photos and he sees red. One photo is you in a chair, tied to the posts. Another photo is more of a close up where he sees the rope cutting into your skin. The last photo is another close up, but this time of your face. Bruises and swelling around your eyes, beaten cheeks, bruised, swollen, bloody lips and it makes his blood boil.

“What do you want to do boss?” Roman looks up and Zsasz’s eyes widen. Sure he’s seen Roman angry, but the calmness on Roman’s face even has Zsasz intimated. 

“Gather everyone.”

—-----

The sound of gunfire stirs you out of your unconsciousness and causes you to jump, only to be met with resistance. Men shouting orders and profanities barely contrast to the amount of gun fire being shed. You begin to cry, terrified of what’s going on. You try to get out of the binds but it’s only rubbing against your already broken skin. After a few minutes the gunfire stops, shoes clicking against the floor and you can hear a gun cock. 

“No. Please. No. No.” A voice begs as the footsteps stop.

“Where is she?” The voice sounds vaguely familiar but it also sounds muffled, like there’s a mask covering the voice.

“She’s in there!” Your eyes widen as you realize that they’re talking about you. Full out crying, you’re trying to loosen the rope as much as possible but it doesn’t budge. 

“Thank you for your cooperation.” A single gunshot rings out and you let out a sob, shutting your eyes and silently praying that whoever just murdered that person is not here to murder you. “Open it.” The door creaks open as feet rush in, one coming directly towards you.

“Please don’t hurt me. I’m innocent. I didn’t do anything.” You beg, tears falling down your face as you turn away.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. I’m here. Roman’s here.” Your eyes slowly open as much as they can as you turn your head towards the voice. 

“Roman? What are you doing here?” He shushes you as you feel your hands become free, the rope that was once holding you back now gone as you surge into Roman’s arms. “Oh Roman, it was so terrible. They said terrible things. They said that you run a gang and that you’re storing drugs?” His silence is deafening and you realize that the person who had you captured was right. “He was right, wasn’t he?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he dismisses your claim but you know. 

“I can’t believe you. Why would you do that?”

“Look baby, we can talk about this later, but we need to get you some medical care. Kay?” You begrudgingly decide to let it go, letting Roman help you out of the chair. He motions for Zsasz and another henchmen to help you but you jerk away from them and into Roman. “You guys go away,” Roman motions for them to leave and as they do, Roman sweeps you up into his arms, knowing that you probably won’t like the fact that the floors are littered with bodies. “Just focus on me, okay. I’m going to get you out of here and we’ll talk.”

“Promise?” You lay your head into his shoulder as he struggles not to gag at the fact that your blood is getting on his Gucci suit. 

“I promise.” 

#roman sionis x you #whumptober 2023 #whumptober #lacontroller1991 #Ewan mcgregor #harley quinn and the birds of prey #harley quinn movie #reader insert #female reader #roman Sions x reader #black mask

[labyrinth-runner]

A Garden in Gotham

The Master List for my new Roman Sionis x Reader Oneshot series. Read here or on a03

1. A Blossom in the Night

2. In the Eye of the Beholder

3. A Lotus in a Murky Pond

4. Mum’s The Word

5. Trust in Me

6. Aconite in the Night

7. Sucker for You

8. Planting Roots

9. Branching Out

10. The Power of Peonies

11. Sowing Seeds

12. Fruits of Your Labor

13. Family Tree

14. Epilogue

#Masterlist #A Garden in Gotham #Roman sions x Reader #Roman Sionis

[vintagemichelle91]

Angel Eyes (Roman Sionis x Reader) Part I

Author’s Note: Yes, I saw Birds of Prey and completely fell For Ewan Mcgregor’s character Roman Sionis/Black Mask. It just happened and I am grateful because I got my writing muse back. So please enjoy this and let me know what you think. This will be in three parts. 

Summary: You are famously known as Gotham’s princess and also Bruce Wayne’s other half. However, Bruce Wayne had just broken up with you and it wasn’t an easy decision for him to make and you found it difficult to just walk away so easily. But you did it for yourself...for your pride. As the fates aligned it led your pride straight to Roman Sionis. 

Song: Angel Eyes- Ella Fitzgerald

The music was blaring just as you walked into the club, the walls were covered in black and red and you weren’t sure if this was a good idea. The events of earlier in the day had left you numb for the rest of the day and well into the evening. Getting all dressed up to go out had seemed like such a blur. Your friends were chattering non stop in front of you as they made their way to the reserved table that was all set up. 

The moment you stepped into the main room all eyes were on you. It felt as if they were peeling layers off your skin one by one. A cold shiver ran up your spine as you walked passed Victor Zsasz. His eyes scanned your entire frame and a wicked smile spread across his lips and he winked at you. 

After all, you were known as Gotham’s princess and being linked to Bruce Wayne meant that everyone knew your every move. 

However, it all changed now that he had broken up with you. Of course, if you were to be asked you would say it was a mutual break up. You two grew apart and blah blah blah…

Try to think that love's not around

But it's uncomfortably near

My old heart ain't gaining no ground

Because my angel eyes ain't here

Alas if you could avoid all those questions, that would be the highlight of your evening. You figured you would plaster a carefree smile on your face and not let others see through your pain. 

A glass of Martini wasn’t going to cut it. You sauntered your way over to the bar as your friends were already out on the dance floor. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Victor had abandoned his usual spot and was whispering something in his boss’s ear. The bartender placed another glass in front of you and you took it without hesitation. More liquor to numb your pain was the way to go. 

Just as you turned to head back to the table, you locked eyes with Roman Sionis.  

His blue eyes were piercing and captivating that your legs wouldn’t move. The crowd seemed to part as he made his way to you. He was beyond gorgeous that many said his looks rivaled Bruce Wayne’s, but you could confirm that they certainly did. 

“Well, well what do we have here…” His voice was playful yet strangely charming at the same time. 

“Roman, pleasure to see you again.” You replied with just as much charm and set your glass back down on the bar. 

He shook his head. “Oh no, the pleasure is all mine. It isn’t everyday that we see Gotham’s princess out and about without her other half.”

“You will definitely be seeing more on her own now,” you replied as you took a small sip from your drink. Roman stood next to you incredibly close. His scent was intoxicating and you felt your head begin to spin. It wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling, it was more like a silk blanket that was being draped over your cold body. 

“I like the sound of that,” his smirk made your heart flutter against your chest. You had met Roman at a gala event while you accompanied Bruce. He had made an impression on you, but of course you had been head over heels in love with Bruce that you barely gave such impression the attention. 

Roman’s eyes gazed at you hungrily. The little black mini dress that hugged your curves in all the right places had been a fabulous choice. Even though you felt wanted, the sting of rejection was still very much evident from this morning. 

Angel eyes, that old Devil sent

They glow unbearably bright

Need I say that my love's misspent

Misspent with angel eyes tonight

“You do?” 

“Of course, I can get to know you a little more without Wayne hovering around,” replied Roman. 

“Don’t you know everything about me?” You arched your perfect brow in question. 

Roman threw his head back in laughter and understood what you implied. Victor surely had complied a file about you. Every powerful man in Gotham had to have some type of record of all the important figures including all the people involved in their lives. 

“Not the intimate details, angel eyes.” Roman’s gloved hand moved up and down your arm, tracing small circles into your soft skin. 

Your heart was beating fast against your chest as he leaned in closer, his lips dangerously close to your ear. You placed your hand on his chest, not to stop him, but to feel the heat that was radiating off him. 

“Well then you simply have to just ask,” you said breathlessly. 

Your eyes locked with his once more and you couldn’t help but lose yourself in those ocean eyes. They were a sight to behold and you would gladly drown in them at this very moment. 

If people were staring, you simply didn’t care. The man before you was the only thing that mattered at this very moment. He held you in place and you would stay there forever if you could. 

He is the first one to not look at you with pity in his eyes. No, he saw this as an opportunity to finally get what he had been wanting for a long time…you. 

Roman took one final swig from his glass and nodded in content. 

“Let’s take this upstairs.” It wasn’t a request, it was an order. 

So drink up all you people

Order anything you see

Have fun you happy people

The laughs and the jokes on me

You nodded, not accepting the invitation so eagerly. You still had to keep your reputation intact. 

“Just give me a moment to freshen up.” 

Roman moved away from you and let you go with the promise of your return. 

Pardon me but I got to run

The facts uncommonly clear

Got to find who's now number one

And why my angel eyes

Oh, where is my angel eyes

Thankfully the ladies room was completely empty. The music was just a steady thump within the walls and you felt as if you finally had room to breathe. You gazed at your reflection in the mirror, you let the tears flow freely because you had been holding them back all night. You didn’t  even cry in front of Bruce Wayne when he had the dreaded conversation with you. No, he wasn’t allowed to see you cry. No man was, at least that was what your mother had taught you. 

Your delicate hands gripped the marble sink for a few minutes as you took a few deep breaths. You didn’t know wether this was pure lunacy or deep down you were relieved that you were free to do what you wanted. To act on pure selfish impulse and not care what others would think. 

With sure resolution you wiped your tears away and thank goodness for waterproof mascara. You reached into your black Yves Saint Laurent clutch and pulled out your nude Chanel lipstick to touch up your lips. 

Tonight you were going to allow yourself this indulgence because you simply could. You left the thought of Bruce Wayne behind and headed straight into Roman Sionis’ waiting arms. 

'Scuse me while I disappear

Angel eyes, angel eyes

(to be continued)

#roman sionis x reader #birds of prey #roman sionis #black mask #roman sions fanfiction #birds of prey fanfiction

[pamphletstoinspire]

PALM SUNDAY (by Fr. Prosper Gueranger 1870)

Today, if ye shall hear the voice of the Lord, harden not your hearts.

Early in the morning of this day, Jesus sets out for Jerusalem, leaving Mary His Mother, and the two sisters Martha and Mary Magdalene, and Lazarus, at Bethania. The Mother of sorrows trembles at seeing her Son thus expose Himself to danger, for His enemies are bent upon His destruction; but it is not death, it is triumph, that Jesus is to receive today in Jerusalem. The Messias, before being nailed to the cross, is to be proclaimed King by the people of the great city; the little children are to make her streets echo with their Hosannas to the Son of David; and this in presence of the soldiers of Rome's emperor, and of the high priests and pharisees: the first standing under the banner of their eagles; the second, dumb with rage.

The prophet Zachary had foretold this triumph which the Son of Man was to receive a few days before His Passion, and which had been prepared for Him from all eternity. ‘Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Sion! Shout for joy, O daughter of Jerusalem! Behold thy King will come to thee; the Just and the Saviour. He is poor, and riding upon an ass, and upon a colt, the foal of an ass.' [Zach. ix. 9]. Jesus, knowing that the hour has come for the fulfilment of this prophecy, singles out two from the rest of His disciples, and bids them lead to Him an ass and her colt, which they would find not far off. He has reached Bethphage, on Mount Olivet. The two disciples lose no time in executing the order given them by their divine Master; and the ass and the colt are soon brought to the place where He stands.

The holy fathers have explained to us the mystery of these two animals. The ass represents the Jewish people, which had been long under the yoke of the Law; the colt, upon which, as the evangelist says, no man yet hath sat [St. Mark xi. 2], is a figure of the Gentile world, which no one had ever yet brought into subjection. The future of these two peoples is to be decided a few days hence: the Jews will be rejected, for having refused to acknowledge Jesus as the Messias; the Gentiles will take their place, to be adopted as God's people, and become docile and faithful.

The disciples spread their garments upon the colt; and our Saviour, that the prophetic figure might be fulfilled, sits upon him [Ibid. 7, and St. Luke xix. 35.], and advances towards Jerusalem. As soon as it is known that Jesus is near the city, the holy Spirit works in the hearts of those Jews, who have come from all parts to celebrate the feast of the Passover. They go out to meet our Lord, holding palm branches in their hands, and loudly proclaiming Him to be King [St. Luke xix. 38]. They that have accompanied Jesus from Bethania, join the enthusiastic crowd. Whilst some spread their garments on the way, others cut down boughs from the palm-trees, and strew them along the road. Hosanna is the triumphant cry, proclaiming to the whole city that Jesus, the Son of David, has made His entrance as her King.

Thus did God, in His power over men's hearts, procure a triumph for His Son, and in the very city which, a few days later, was to clamour for His Blood. This day was one of glory to our Jesus, and the holy Church would have us renew, each year, the memory of this triumph of the Man-God. Shortly after the birth of our Emmanuel, we saw the Magi coming from the extreme east, and looking in Jerusalem for the King of the Jews, to whom they intended offering their gifts and their adorations: but it is Jerusalem herself that now goes forth to meet this King. Each of these events is an acknowledgment of the kingship of Jesus; the first, from the Gentiles; the second, from the Jews. Both were to pay Him this regal homage, before He suffered His Passion. The inscription to be put upon the cross, by Pilate's order, will express the kingly character of the Crucified: Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews. Pilate, the Roman governor, the pagan, the base coward, has been unwittingly the fulfiller of a prophecy; and when the enemies of Jesus insist on the inscription being altered, Pilate will not deign to give them any answer but this: ‘What I have written, I have written.' Today, it is the Jews themselves that proclaim Jesus to be their King: they will soon be dispersed, in punishment for their revolt against the Son of David; but Jesus is King, and will be so for ever. Thus were literally verified the words spoken by the Archangel to Mary, when he announced to her the glories of the Child that was to be born of her: ‘The Lord God shall give unto Him the throne of David, His father; and He shall reign in the house of Jacob for ever.' [St. Luke i. 32]. Jesus begins His reign upon the earth this very day; and though the first Israel is soon to disclaim His rule, a new Israel, formed from the faithful few of the old, shall rise up in every nation of the earth, and become the kingdom of Christ, a kingdom such as no mere earthly monarch ever coveted in his wildest fancies of ambition.

This is the glorious mystery which ushers in the great week, the week of dolours. Holy Church would have us give this momentary consolation to our heart, and hail our Jesus as our King. She has so arranged the service of today, that it should express both joy and sorrow; joy, by uniting herself with the loyal hosannas of the city of David; and sorrow, by compassionating the Passion of her divine Spouse. The whole function is divided into three parts, which we will now proceed to explain.

The first is the blessing of the palms; and we may have an idea of its importance from the solemnity used by the Church in this sacred rite. One would suppose that the holy Sacrifice has begun, and is going to be offered up in honour of Jesus' entry into Jerusalem. Introit, Collect, Epistle, Gradual, Gospel, even a Preface, are said, as though we were, as usual, preparing for the immolation of the spotless Lamb; but, after the triple Sanctus! Sanctus! Sanctus! the Church suspends these sacrificial formulas, and turns to the blessing of the palms. The prayers she uses for this blessing are eloquent and full of instruction; and, together with the sprinkling with holy water and the incensation, impart a virtue to these branches, which elevates them to the supernatural order, and makes them means for the sanctification of our souls and the protection of our persons and dwellings. The faithful should hold these palms in their hands during the procession, and during the reading of the Passion at Mass, and keep them in their homes as an outward expression of their faith, and as a pledge of God's watchful love.

It is scarcely necessary to tell our reader that the palms or olive branches, thus blessed, are carried in memory of those wherewith the people of Jerusalem strewed the road, as our Saviour made His triumphant entry; but a word on the antiquity of our ceremony will not be superfluous. It began very early in the east. It is probable that, as far as Jerusalem itself is concerned, the custom was established immediately after the ages of persecution. St. Cyril, who was bishop of that city in the fourth century, tells us that the palm-tree, from which the people cut the branches when they went out to meet our Saviour, was still to be seen in the vale of Cedron [Cateches. x. versus fin.] Such a circumstance would naturally suggest an annual commemoration of the great event. In the following century, we find this ceremony established, not only in the churches of the east, but also in the monasteries of Egypt and Syria. At the beginning of Lent, many of the holy monks obtained permission from their abbots to retire into the desert, that they might spend the sacred season in strict seclusion; but they were obliged to return to their monasteries for Palm Sunday, as we learn from the life of Saint Euthymius, written by his disciple Cyril [Act. SS. Jan. 2O]. In the west, the introduction of this ceremony was more gradual; the first trace we find of it is in the sacramentary of St. Gregory, that is, at the end of the sixth, or the beginning of the seventh, century. When the faith had penetrated into the north, it was not possible to have palms or olive branches; they were supplied by branches from other trees. The beautiful prayers used in the blessing, and based on the mysteries expressed by the palm and olive trees, are still employed in the blessing of our willow, box, or other branches; and rightly, for these represent the symbolical ones which nature has denied us.

The second of today's ceremonies is the procession, which comes immediately after the blessing of the palms. It represents our Saviour's journey to Jerusalem, and His entry into the city. To make it the more expressive, the branches that have just been blessed are held in the hand during it. With the Jews, to hold a branch in one's hand was a sign of joy. The divine law had sanctioned this practice, as we read in the following passage from Leviticus, where God commands His people to keep the feast of tabernacles: And you shall take to you, on the first day, the fruits of the fairest tree, and branches of palm-trees, and boughs of thick trees, and willows of the brook, and you shall rejoice before the Lord your God [Lev. xxiii. 4O]. It was, therefore, to testify their delight at seeing Jesus enter within their walls, that the inhabitants, even the little children, of Jerusalem, went forth to meet Him with palms in their hands. Let us, also, go before our King, singing our hosannas to Him as the conqueror of death, and the liberator of His people.

During the middle ages, it was the custom, in many churches, to carry the book of the holy Gospels in this procession. The Gospel contains the words of Jesus Christ, and was considered to represent Him. The procession halted at an appointed place, or station: the deacon then opened the sacred volume, and sang from it the passage which describes our Lord's entry into Jerusalem. This done, the cross which, up to this moment, was veiled, was uncovered; each of the clergy advanced towards it, venerated it, and placed at its foot a small portion of the palm he held in his hand. The procession then returned, preceded by the cross, which was left unveiled until all had re-entered the church. In England and Normandy, as far back as the eleventh century, there was practised a holy ceremony which represented, even more vividly than the one we have just been describing, the scene that was witnessed on this day at Jerusalem: the blessed Sacrament was carried in procession. The heresy of Berengarius, against the real presence of Jesus in the Eucharist, had been broached about that time; and the tribute of triumphant joy here shown to the sacred Host was a distant preparation for the feast and procession which were to be instituted at a later period.

A touching ceremony was also practised in Jerusalem during today's procession, and, like those just mentioned, was intended to commemorate the event related by the Gospel. The whole community of the Franciscans (to whose keeping the holy places are entrusted) went in the morning to Bethphage. There, the father guardian of the holy Land, being vested in pontifical robes, mounted upon an ass, on which garments were laid. Accompanied by the friars and the Catholics of Jerusalem, all holding palms in their hands, he entered the city, and alighted at the church of the holy sepulchre where Mass was celebrated with all possible solemnity.

This beautiful ceremony, which dated from the period of the Latin kingdom in Jerusalem, has been forbidden, for now almost two hundred years, by the Turkish authorities of the city.

We have mentioned these different usages, as we have done others on similar occasions, in order to aid the faithful to the better understanding of the several mysteries of the liturgy. In the present instance, they will learn that, in today's procession, the Church wishes us to honour Jesus Christ as though He were really among us, and were receiving the humble tribute of our loyalty. Let us lovingly go forth to meet this our King, our Saviour, who comes to visit the daughter of Sion, as the prophet has just told us. He is in our midst; it is to Him that we pay honour with our palms: let us give Him our hearts too. He comes that He may be our King; let us welcome Him as such, and fervently cry out to Him: ‘Hosanna to the Son of David!'

At the close of the procession a ceremony takes place, which is full of the sublimest symbolism. On returning to the church, the doors are found to be shut. The triumphant procession is stopped; but the songs of joy are continued. A hymn in honour of Christ our King is sung with its joyous chorus; and at length the subdeacon strikes the door with the staff of the cross; the door opens, and the people, preceded by the clergy, enter the church, proclaiming the praise of Him, who is our resurrection and our life.

This ceremony is intended to represent the entry of Jesus into that Jerusalem of which the earthly one was but the figure – the Jerusalem of heaven, which has been opened for us by our Saviour. The sin of our first parents had shut it against us; but Jesus, the King of glory, opened its gates by His cross, to which every resistance yields. Let us, then, continue to follow in the footsteps of the Son of David, for He is also the Son of God, and He invites us to share His kingdom with Him. Thus, by the procession, which is commemorative of what happened on this day, the Church raises up our thoughts to the glorious mystery of the Ascension, whereby heaven was made the close of Jesus' mission on earth. Alas! the interval between these two triumphs of our Redeemer are not all days of joy; and no sooner is our procession over, than the Church, who had laid aside for a moment the weight of her grief, falls back into sorrow and mourning.

The third part of today's service is the offering of the holy Sacrifice. The portions that are sung by the choir are expressive of the deepest desolation; and the history of our Lord's Passion, which is now to be read by anticipation, gives to the rest of the day that character of sacred gloom, which we all know so well. For the last five or six centuries, the Church has adopted a special chant for this narrative of the holy Gospel. The historian, or the evangelist, relates the events in a tone that is at once grave and pathetic; the words of our Saviour are sung to a solemn yet sweet melody, which strikingly contrasts with the high dominant of the several other interlocutors and the Jewish populace. During the singing of the Passion, the faithful should hold their palms in their hands, and, by this emblem of triumph, protest against the insults offered to Jesus by His enemies. As we listen to each humiliation and suffering, all of which were endured out of love for us, let us offer Him our palm as to our dearest Lord and King. When should we be more adoring, than when He is most suffering?

These are the leading features of this great day. According to our usual plan, we will add to the prayers and lessons any instructions that seem to be needed.

This Sunday, besides its liturgical and popular appellation of Palm Sunday, has had several other names. Thus it was called Hosanna Sunday, in allusion to the acclamation wherewith the Jews greeted Jesus on His entry into Jerusalem. Our forefathers used also to call it Pascha Floridum, because the feast of the Pasch (or Easter), which is but eight days off, is today in bud, so to speak, and the faithful could begin from this Sunday to fulfil the precept of Easter Communion. It was in allusion to this name, that the Spaniards, having on the Palm Sunday of 1513, discovered the peninsula on the Gulf of Mexico, called it Florida. We also find the name of Capililavium given to this Sunday, because, during those times when it was the custom to defer till Holy Saturday the baptism of infants born during the preceding months (where such a delay entailed no danger), the parents used, on this day, to wash the heads of these children, out of respect to the holy chrism wherewith they were to be anointed. Later on, this Sunday was, at least in some churches, called the Pasch of the competents, that is, of the catechumens, who were admitted to Baptism; they assembled today in the church, and received a special instruction on the symbol, which had been given to them in the previous scrutiny. In the Gothic Church of Spain, the symbol was not given till today. The Greeks call this Sunday Baphoros, that is, Palm-bearing. (2,6)

INSTRUCTION FOR PALM-SUNDAY, BY LEONARD GOFFINE, 1871

Why is this day called Palm-Sunday?

On account of the palms with which the people strewed the Saviour's path before Him, as He entered Jerusalem; and because palms are on this day blessed before service, by the Church, which “are afterwards carried in solemn procession in commemoration of Christ's solemn entrance into Jerusalem.

Why are palms blessed?

That those who bear them with devotion, may receive protection for soul and body, as prayed for in the blessing; that the inhabitants of the place in which they are kept, may be preserved from all evils; that those who carry the palms, may, by means of the Church's prayers, adorn their souls with good works and thus, in spirit, meet the Saviour; that, through Christ whose members we are, we may conquer the kingdom of death and darkness, and be made worthy to share in His glorious resurrection and triumphant entrance into heaven. St. Augustine writes of the palms: “They are emblems of praise, and the signs of victory; because the Lord by death conquered death, and with the sign of victory, the cross, overcame the devil, the prince of death.” Therefore we go singing hymns of praise, with the cross in advance, in procession around the Church; when we come to the Church door, we find it locked, and the priest knocks at it with the cross, to show, how by Adam's sin heaven was closed to us, and that only since Jesus has killed death, and only by the cross of reconciliation, are the Church doors and the gates of paradise open to men, who love the Lord.

To infuse us with compassion for the suffering Redeemer, the Church, in the person of Christ, cries at the Introit in lamenting tones: Lord, keep not thy help far from me; look to my defence; save me from the lion's mouth, and rescue me in my distress, from the horns of unicorns. O God, my God, look upon me: why hast thou forsaken me? They are my sins (that is, the sins of all men which I have taken upon me), that keep salvation far from me. (Ps. xxi.)

PRAYER OF THE CHURCH. O almighty and eternal God, who wouldst have our Saviour become man, and suffer on a cross, to give mankind an example of humility: mercifully grant, that we may improve by the example of His patience, and partake of His resurrection. Through, &c.

EPISTLE. (Phil. ii. 5 -11) Brethren: Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus; who being in the form of God, thought it not robbery, to be equal with God: but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being made in the likeness of men, and in habit found as a man. He humbled himself, becoming obedient unto death; even to the death of the cross. For which cause God also hath exalted him, and hath given him a name which is above all namas: that in the name of Jesus every knee shall bow, of those that are in heaven, on earth, and under the earth. And that every tongue should confess that the Lord Jesus Christ is in the glory of the Father.

INSTRUCTION. In this epistle, the apostle, as St. Chrysostom says, in a special manner urges us to humility by which we are made like to Christ, the Lord, who putting off the majesty of His divinity, became man, and obediently humbled Himself to the ignominious death of the cross. “Would that all might hear,” exclaims St. Gregory, “that God resists the proud, and gives His grace to the humble! Would that all might hear: Thou dust and ashes, why dost thou exalt thyself? Would that all might hear the words of the Lord: Learn of me, because I am humble of heart. Because for this the only begotten Son of God assumed the form of our weakness, suffered mockery, insults, and torments, for this that the humble God might teach man not to be proud.”

ASPIRATION. Ah, that my sentiments were as Thine, O my Lord Jesus! who so humbledst Thyself and wast obedient to the most ignominious death of the cross. Grant me, I beseech Thee, O my Redeemer, the grace to diligently follow Thee in humility.

In Mass instead of the gospel the Passion, as it is called, that is, the History of the Passion of our Lord, is read from Matthew chapters xxvi., xxvii., and xxviii.) And neither incense, nor lights are used, nor is the Dominus vobiscum said, thus signifying that Jesus, the Light of the world, was taken away by death, at which, as we know, the faith and devotion of the apostles shook and became almost extinct. When reading the History of the Passion, the priest, when he comes to the words: and bowing his head, he gave up the ghost, with all the congregation, falls on his knees to consider the great mystery of the death of Jesus, by which our redemption was effected, and to give God thanks for it from his inmost heart.

At the blessing of the palms, the priest reads the following

GOSPEL. (Matt. xxi. 1 – 9.) At That Time: Jesus drawing near to Jerusalem; and being come to Bethphage, at Mount Olivet, he sent two of his disciples, and said to them: Go ye into the village that is over against you, and immediately you shall find an ass tied and a colt with her: loose them and bring them to me: and if any man shall say any thing to you, say ye, that the Lord hath need of them: and forthwith he will let them go. Now all this was done that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophet, saying: “Tell ye the daughter of Sion: Behold, thy king cometh to thee, meek, and sitting upon an ass and a colt the foal of her that is used to the yoke.” And the disciples going, did as Jesus commanded them. And they brought the ass and the colt: and laid their garments upon them, and made him sit thereon. And a very great multitude spread their garments in the way: and others cut down boughs from the trees, and strewed them in the way: and the multitudes that went before and that followed, cried, saying: “Hosanna to the Son of David: Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord.”‘

Why did Jesus enter Jerusalem so solemnly and yet so humble?

To show that He was the promised Messiah and King of the Jews, as foretold by the Prophet Zacliarias (ix. 9.), and that He had come to conquer the world, the flesh, and the devil, for which He used the weapons of meekness, humility, and poverty, and therefore came seated not on a proud steed, but on an ass's weak colt, like a poor person, entering Jerusalem in all humility, thus teaching us that meekness and indifference to earthly goods, are our best weapons for victory over our enemies; to fill the type of the paschal lamb, for on this day the lambs who were to be sacrificed in the temple on the following Friday, were solemnly led into the city. Thus Jesus, like a meek lamb, entered the city of Jerusalem to be sacrificed for us.

Why did the people meet Christ with palm-branches?

This happened by the inspiration of God, to indicate that Christ, the conqueror of death, hell, and the devil, would reconcile man with God, and open the heavenly Jerusalem to him, for the palm is the emblem of victory and peace. By this we learn also the inconsistency and mutability of the world; for the very people who on this day met Christ with palm-branches shouting: “Hosanna to the Son of David,” a few days after shouted: “Crucify him! Crucify him!” — Learn from this to despise the world's praise, and not to imitate the inconsistency of this people by receiving at Easter your Saviour with joy in holy Communion, and soon crucify Him anew by sin. (Hebr. vi. 6.)

How should we take part to-day in the procession of blessed palms?

With the pious intention of meeting Christ in spirit, with the devout people of Jerusalem, adoring Him, saying: “Hosanna to the Son of David, Hosanna to Him who comes in the name of the Lord; Hosanna to the Highest!” and with the heartfelt prayer to Jesus for His grace, that by it we may become blooming, and with Him conquer the world, the flesh, and the devil, and thus merit to be received into the heavenly Jerusalem.

How and why did Christ defend Himself against the slanders of the Jews?

PETITION O Jesus, Thou always fresh and fruitful Tree of Life! grant, that we may by love be like palms ever green, and by the practice of good works blossom and bring forth fruit.

INSTRUCTION FOR HOLY WEEK

Why is this week called Holy Week?

This week is called Holy Week and also the Great Week, because during it Christ consummated the most holy mystery of our redemption, and gave us such unspeakable benefits. It is besides called the Quiet Week, because of the quietness of the Church services.

What remarkable things did Christ do during the first four days of this week?

After He had entered the temple at Jerusalem on Palm Sunday amidst the greatest rejoicings of the people, and was even saluted by the children with the joyous clamor of “Hosanna”, He drove the buyers and sellers out of the temple, and when He had spent the entire day in preaching and healing the sick, He went in the evening to Bethania, where He remained over night in Lazarus' house, because in Jerusalem no one wished to receive Him for fear of His enemies. The three following days He spent in Jerusalem, teaching in the temple, and passing the night in prayer on Mount Olivet. In His sermons during these days, He especially strove to convince the Jewish priests, the lawyers and Pharisees, that He was really the Messiah, and that they would commit a terrible sin, bringing themselves and the whole Jewish nation to destruction by His death, which He foretold. This ruin of the people He illustrated to them most plainly by the withering of the fig-tree under His curse, and foretelling the destruction of the city and temple of Jerusalem. He disputed with them, and confounded them, openly and by parables, that out of anger and hatred, they with one mind decreed to kill Him. To the execution of their design the impious Judas aided the most, for from avarice he betrayed Him for thirty pieces of silver (about fifteen dollars in our money) to the chief priests, and the next day, Thursday, became His betrayer and delivered Him over into their hands.

From: www.pamphletstoinspire.com

#palm sunday

[labyrinth-runner]

In the Eye of the Beholder

Part of the “A Garden in Gotham” Series, a Roman Sionis x Reader fic

Words: 1900

No warnings

It had been a couple of weeks since you had first met that man, but he kept coming back. Every morning like clock-work, he’d stroll into your shop and order another bouquet. Every time a different meaning. Your heart skipped a beat every time you touched as you passed payment or flowers to each other. The way he smiled at you made your knees weak. Whoever was receiving these flowers was a very lucky woman, you thought. Part of you wished it was you. Sure, you work with flowers every day, but to have someone bring you a personal bouquet every day… to be adored like that… one could only dream.

This morning, you were making arrangements for a charity ball hosted by Wayne Enterprises, Inc. It was a prestigious ball. You were keen to deliver these arrangements personally, wanting a glimpse at how the other half lived. You didn’t want a life like that, but you were always curious about the kinds of people who had everything. Part of you wondered if they were truly happy in their castles surrounded by their belongings. You were so engrossed in your musings that you hadn’t heard the bell chime.

“Those are beautiful, darling,” a voice called out.

You jumped a bit, blushing. “Mr. Sionis, you caught me off guard.”

“What are those for?” he asked curiously.

“A charity ball later this evening,” you informed him, stepping back to wipe your hands on your apron.

“Ah, yes, when the rich pretend for an evening to care about the poor. How quaint,” he grinned awkwardly.

“What are your thoughts on charity?” you asked curiously.

“Oh, darling, you don’t want me to bore you with that,” he grinned as you came over to lean on the counter. In truth, he didn’t think you’d enjoy what he thought of charity. As someone who had to build his own empire, he was of the mindset that it should be every man for himself. Or at least… that’s what Zsasz always encouraged.

You smiled softly at him. “What are you trying to say today?”

“I want to ask her on a date,” he told you seriously.

“You haven’t done so yet?” you chuckled. “You’ve been buying flowers for her every day. I’m sure that she’ll say yes. She’d be incredibly stupid not to.”

You turned your back to him as you perused the flowers on the wall. “Lilies? No… Roses? No, that’s too heavy-handed,” you murmured to yourself. Your eyes settled on the irises, going over to pick up a handful of the purple flower, placing them in the carrying basket. Your eyes swept over the wall once more, lighting up on the black-eyed Susans. Color theory kicking in, yellow and purple were complimentary colors. Yes, you thought, those should pair nicely. Next, you picked up some of the filler greens to fluff out the bouquet before bringing the basket back to your work station.

“What do those stand for?” he asked.

“Irises stand for hope, because you’re hoping she’ll say yes. Black-eyed Susans represent encouragement. You’re encouraging her to take that next step with you,” you explained while your hands worked.

“You truly are an artist,” he grinned, causing you to blush scarlet.

“Oh, it’s nothing, really,” you murmured, hoping your words were heard over the thumping of your heart in your chest.

“Nonsense, flowers are your medium, and you create works of art,” he pressed. “Never discount that.”

“My art is fleeting,” you replied with a sad smile. “All flowers die at some point. They lose their beauty.”

“Not if you dry them,” he commented.

You peaked over at him. “Who has the time for that?”

“Someone who truly values the flower,” he murmured. Somehow you felt as though he wasn’t talking about flowers.

After tying the bouquet up with a bow, you walked over and handed it to him in exchange for his credit card.

“She’s lucky,” you blurted, looking at the screen of your card system, before sheepishly adding, “or at least really special if you buy flowers for her every day.”

“You are,” he said pointedly.

Your eyes flicked up to his. “What?”

“There is no other woman,” he smiled, “I keep coming back for you.”

“But all of those bouquets, and the meanings…”

“Were about you,” he repeated, holding the bouquet out to you with a charming smile. “Will you go out with me?”

Your mouth went dry. The various bouquets flipped through your mind, all those meanings were about you? He liked you? “I… I don’t know what to say,” you stammered.

“Well, hopefully these flowers will encourage you to say yes,” he grinned. His hand was shaking. Was he nervous?

“Yes,” you replied, reaching out to steady his hand, smoothing over his leather gloves. “Yes, I’ll go out with you.”

Relief washed over his face as you took the bouquet with your free hand, still holding his hand with the other. “Great, I’ll pick you up here after you close.”

“But, will I have to change? Is this acceptable?” you asked, looking down at your jeans and t-shirt.

“Don’t worry about that,” he grinned, taking your hand up to his lips to kiss across your knuckles. “I’ll take care of you.”

You watched in awe as he turned to leave, ringing the bell as he exited. After his car pulled away from the curb, you bent down to smell the bouquet, holding them tightly. You had it bad.

“Well, boss, how’d it go?” Zsasz asked in a bored tone as Roman looked down at the glove that had held your hand.

“She said yes,” he said, smiling softly.

They made it back to the apartment and Roman did a slight dance of glee.

“Does this mean we can get rid of all of these flowers?” Zsasz asked with a grin.

“Of course not!”

“Boss, they’re taking over the loft. It’s making it seem less… intimidating.”

“I don’t care, Zsasz. I collect art. Those bouquets are art.”

“But, they’re replacing the heads,” Zsasz sighed exasperatedly.

“So? These look much nicer. Not to mention, they smell better, too,” Roman said, raising an eyebrow at him, daring him to challenge him.

Zsasz backed down. “It’s your loft, boss.”

“Yes, it is, Zsasz,” he said in exasperation. “Just as she will be mine.”

“Is she going to be yours, or are you going to be hers?” Zsasz asked pointedly.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Roman asked, eyes ablaze.

Zsasz shrugged. “I’ve got business downstairs to take care of.”

Roman scowled as he walked away. “Of course she’ll be mine. It’ll be a cold day in Gotham when a woman owns Roman Sionis.”

Zsasz smiled to himself as he heard that. Good. The boss wasn’t losing his touch.

The rest of the day went smoothly. You dropped the arrangements off at the ball, in awe of the blatant display of opulence at an event meant to give money to the less fortunate. By the time you got back to the shop, your employees had closed the shop, so all you had to do was wait for Roman.

The car showed up minutes after you did. It was so odd to not take public transportation or a cab. The ride was silent as the driver sized you up in the mirror. You felt incredibly self-conscious, and incredibly grateful when the ride was over. However, when you found yourself in front of the club from the other day, you were confused.

“Are we at the right place?” you asked the driver.

He smirked. “Yes, sweetheart. Go inside and tell the bartender you’re here for the boss.”

The boss.

Your legs were wobbly as you made your way into the club. Who had you agreed to go on a date with?

The bartender picked up the phone after you told him who you were there for. A man with scars that you recognized as the guy who had given you a bit of trouble came up to you. “Follow me.”

Unease settled in the pit of your stomach as you followed him up the stairs and into an apartment.

“He’ll be out soon,” was all the man said before disappearing.

You walked down the main hall, pausing when you saw bouquets on pedestals. Your bouquets. He had kept them all. They were all in various stages of drying out. On the desk up ahead was the first bouquet you had given him. Footsteps sounded down the hall, tapping on the floor as they got closer.

“You kept them,” you murmured as he came up behind you. You looked over your shoulder at him.

“Of course. They’re works of art. I’m a bit of a collector,” he grinned.

You turned fully to take him in. He was in another one of his velvet suits. Hesitantly, you reached out to place your hands on his chest, running them up like you’d been wanting to do since the day you met him. The air was charged as he looked down at you, eyes darkening with a dangerous glint.

Roman bit back an admonishment. Normally he didn’t like it when people touched him without permission. Zsasz always told him he needed to make an example out of people who didn’t respect boundaries. But… he didn’t want to stop you. It was like you were exploring. It intrigued him. No one had ever looked at him like they didn’t already know everything about him, like they weren’t already afraid of him. But, not you. You weren’t afraid. You saw him like a normal person. You saw him as he was, not the image he’d built for himself. Hesitantly, he took a step back.

“I have an outfit for you,” he murmured.

“I thought you said this was fine?” you asked in confusion.

“I said I’d take care of it,” he corrected, taking your hand.

He led you over to his guest room where he had a few dresses laid out for you.

“Mr. Sionis, I can’t wear these,” you murmured.

“Roman, darling. Call me Roman, and you most certainly can,” he said, leaving to let you change.

You ran your hands along the fabrics. They were all so finely made. All so expensive. You would never have been able to afford one of these things yourself. You settled on the flowing silver dress. It was the least extravagant, which wasn’t saying much. You looked like a cross between an angel and a goddess, and took a moment to do your hair to match before leaving your clothes neatly folded on the bed. Somehow you felt like a different person, but not in a good way. You practically glided into the next room.

“You look gorgeous,” he breathed. “Turn around.”

You awkwardly spun. He may have thought you looked beautiful, and sure, you had to admit that you did look nice, but you felt fake. You didn’t belong in these clothes. They weren’t you.

He clapped as you stopped. “Splendid. Shall we?”

“Shall we, what?” you asked.

“Go on our date,” he smiled.

You nodded, shifting uncomfortably. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad? After all, as long as you were with Roman, everything would be okay.

#Roman Sionis #Roman sions x Reader #A Garden in Gotham #roman x reader