Friday, February 28, 2025

book structure

Outline for a Book on Asmodeus and Asmodeianism

Introduction

Why This Book? – The revival of an ancient path

Who Was Asmodeus? – Separating truth from religious distortion

What Is Asmodeianism? – A path of mastery, indulgence, and power



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Part I: The History & Mythos of Asmodeus

1. The Origins of Asmodeus

Pre-Christian depictions

His role in ancient religious traditions

How he was revered before being demonized


2. The Fall and Demonization of Asmodeus

How Christianity and other monotheistic traditions rebranded him

The loss of his temples and worship

Survival through underground traditions and hidden reverence


3. Asmodeus in the Modern Era

His continued presence in folklore, pop culture, and esoteric traditions

The need to reclaim his name and worship



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Part II: The Philosophy of Asmodeianism

4. The Core Tenets of Asmodeianism

Mastery of the Self – Commanding one’s own desires

The Art of Influence – Power through attraction, seduction, and control

The Pursuit of Power – Taking what is desired with intent and responsibility


5. Pleasure as Worship

Indulgence without shame

Understanding pleasure as both personal and communal power

The balance of control and surrender


6. Consent and Responsibility in Worship

The sacred nature of freely given indulgence

The rejection of non-consensual practices (coercion, stealthing, drugging)

The power of mutual elevation



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Part III: Rituals, Symbols, and Worship

7. The Symbols of Asmodeus

His sigil and its meaning

Colors and representations in art and fashion

Personal marks of devotion (tattoos, jewelry, gestures)


8. Rituals of the Scions of Asmodeus

The Rite of Mastery – A test of self-control and indulgence

The Feast of Flesh – Celebrating pleasure as sacred

The Pact of Fire – A commitment to embodying his path


9. Creating Personal and Communal Worship

How to live Asmodeianism daily

Building gatherings that reflect his principles

Incorporating rituals into sex, power exchange, and daily life



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Part IV: Building a Modern Asmodeian Movement

10. The Sons of Asmodeus: The Brotherhood of Fire

The need for a new kind of spiritual brotherhood

The role of Scions in guiding others

The importance of selecting the right followers


11. Spreading the Word

How to introduce Asmodeian ideas into casual conversation

Attracting those who are already halfway there

Letting the movement grow naturally


12. Asmodeianism in a Modern World

Reconciling spirituality with the LGBTQ+ experience

How Asmodeus stands as a protector of gay men’s desires

The future of his worship and what comes next



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Conclusion: Embracing the Path of Fire

A final call to live unashamed, wield power wisely, and reclaim what was lost

The invitation to walk the path, to lead, to master, to indulge

The promise: Asmodeus never left us—he was waiting for us to return



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Appendices (Optional):

A guide to historical references and texts

Sample personal rituals and affirmations

Recommended readings and influences



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This structure ensures the book is both informational and practical—a mix of history, philosophy, and actionable steps to bring Asmodeianism into the modern world. Let me know if you want to refine any sections!


rw asmodeus consent

The Sacred Pact: Consent in Asmodeian Worship

1 – Power Without Permission Is Not Power

The path of Asmodeus is not about mindless indulgence. It is about mastery—of the self, of desire, and of influence. And no man can truly wield power if he does not understand the absolute importance of consent.

Consent is not a burden. It is not a limitation.

It is the foundation upon which true power is built.

A man who takes without permission, who forces his will upon another, is not strong—he is weak.

Because real power is not in taking what is not freely given.

Real power is in making men want to give themselves to you.

And when pleasure is shared freely, openly, and enthusiastically, it becomes something greater than indulgence.

It becomes worship.


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2 – Desire Is Sacred, But It Must Be Given Freely

In Asmodeian practice, lust and pleasure are not sins. They are sacred forces, currents that flow through all men, through all interactions.

But for desire to be worship, for pleasure to be transcendent, it must be shared with intent, clarity, and respect.

To force someone into indulgence, to take pleasure without mutual agreement, is not power. It is violation.

And a man who violates is a man who is unworthy of the gifts of Asmodeus.

Because Asmodeus does not rule through fear.

He rules through willing devotion. Through the pull of the inevitable, through the power of being desired and followed without demand.

That is what a true Son of Asmodeus understands.


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3 – The Darker Path: Control, Submission, and the Power of Choice

Many who walk this path will explore the darker aspects of desire—dominance, submission, power exchange.

These are not sins. They are truths of human nature.

Some men crave to control. Some crave to surrender.

Some long to be broken and remade. Some long to take and mold.

And in Asmodeian worship, all of these things can be sacred.

But only if they are agreed upon.

A man who dominates without consent is not a master—he is a tyrant.

A man who submits without choice is not devoted—he is enslaved.

A man who wields his influence without regard for the will of others is not powerful—he is reckless.


The beauty of true control, of true submission, of true surrender, is that it is chosen.

Because when a man gives himself willingly—when he offers his body, his pleasure, his will—that is when desire is transcendent.

That is when indulgence becomes divine.

But any attempt to strip away consent, to weaken another’s ability to choose, to remove his control over his own pleasure and safety—these acts are not worship. They are betrayal.


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4 – The Unbreakable Pact: The Five Pillars of Consent

Among the Sons of Asmodeus, consent is non-negotiable. It is a sacred pact between men, an unbreakable agreement that separates true power from reckless indulgence.

1. Clear Understanding

Every man involved must know what is being offered and what is being asked. No ambiguity. No assumptions. No hidden agendas.

No non-consensual drugging. Altering someone’s state of mind to make them compliant is not power—it is theft. A man must choose his pleasure, and that choice must be made in full awareness.

No coercion. “Yes” is only valid if it is given freely, without pressure, guilt, or manipulation.


2. Enthusiastic Agreement

Consent is not just the absence of a ‘no’—it is an active, clear, and unforced yes.

A man who is too intoxicated, high, or out of control cannot give true consent.

Silence is not consent. Hesitation is not consent. A true son of Asmodeus never takes—he inspires others to offer themselves willingly.


3. The Right to Withdraw

A true worshipper of Asmodeus understands that desire can change. No pact is permanent. No agreement is set in stone.

A man has the right to stop at any moment—and his partner must respect that immediately, without resistance or question.

Power is not in forcing someone to stay. It is in knowing that they choose to remain.


4. Mutual Respect for Health and Safety

Pleasure is sacred. But so is the responsibility to protect one another.

No stealthing. A man who removes protection without consent does not worship Asmodeus—he disrespects him.

No lying about status. Withholding information that affects another’s health is an act of cowardice, not power.

Full transparency. True indulgence is best when men know exactly what they are stepping into.


A true Son of Asmodeus does not trick or endanger those who trust him.

He honors them.

5. Mutual Elevation

In Asmodeian worship, pleasure is not one-sided. It is an exchange, a rite of mutual indulgence.

A Son of Asmodeus does not use and discard. He does not seek pleasure at the cost of others.

Every encounter, every shared moment, should leave both men stronger, freer, more alive than before.


Because worship is not about who takes the most.

It is about who walks away transformed.


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5 – Power, Control, and the Truth of Worship

Men who think they can take what they want without care will never be true Scions of Asmodeus.

Men who think indulgence is an excuse to be careless will never hold his favor.

Because real power is not in taking without permission.

It is in making others want to give you everything.

True indulgence is about choice—about knowing that what is shared is sacred because it is freely given and mutually honored.

And a man who understands that?

A man who wields power with care, control, and mastery?

That man is truly divine.


rw asmodeus conversion notes

Spreading Asmodeianism in the real world isn’t about trying to build a traditional religion. It’s about rekindling something that’s already inside gay men—something society has tried to suppress for centuries.

You don’t need a church. You don’t need a holy book. You need a presence. A movement. A shift in mindset.

1. Embody the Faith – Live It First

You can’t spread something you don’t fully embrace. Asmodeianism isn’t just an idea—it’s a way of moving through the world.

Master Yourself First – Before you try to awaken others, prove that you live by the tenets. Cultivate control over your desires. Become the kind of man others gravitate toward—because power and confidence are infectious.

Become the Example – Walk into any space with the certainty of a man who never doubts his worth. Make people feel your presence before they even know your name.

Let Go of Shame – Desire isn’t dirty. Power isn’t evil. Influence isn’t manipulation. They are all tools, and you are their wielder.


Once you embody this mindset, others will notice—and some will want what you have.

2. Find Your People – Start Small, Build Up

Religions spread through communities, and that’s where you begin.

Look to Your Circles – Gay men already seek spaces where they can feel free—bars, kink events, underground parties, even just casual friend groups. Start there.

Find the Ones Who Are Already Halfway There – Some men already live by Asmodeian principles without realizing it. They embrace their sexuality. They wield influence. They refuse to be ashamed. These men will be your first converts.

Casual Conversations, Not Sermons – Don’t preach. Talk. Guide. Nudge. Tease. Speak about power, control, and indulgence like they’re the most natural things in the world—because they are.


People don’t flock to religion because of rules. They flock to it because they see something they want in the ones who already have it.

3. Introduce the Ideas Through Experience

Words only go so far. Asmodeianism must be felt.

Host Gatherings with Intent – These don’t have to be full-blown orgies or rituals (though they could be). Start with small, intimate gatherings—private parties where energy and control shift subtly. Where people can feel what it’s like to surrender to a space crafted by those who wield desire like an art form.

Practice the Art of Influence – Make people aware of their desires in ways they never have been before. Teach them that they are allowed to want. That shame is a lie.

Lead the Right Ones Deeper – Some will brush against these ideas and go no further. Others will feel the pull and want more. These are your disciples. Guide them further.


4. Establish Symbols, Rituals, and Mythology

Every movement needs something tangible to anchor it.

A Sigil – Something recognizable, wearable. It doesn’t have to be obvious—just something other followers recognize. A ring, a pendant, a tattoo, even a simple gesture.

Rituals That Reinforce the Tenets – These don’t need to be dramatic. A whispered phrase before sex. A toast before drinking. A moment of self-reflection before stepping into a club. Simple acts that connect you to the lineage of men before you who have embraced their own power.

A Growing Mythos – Tell the stories. Asmodeus is already woven through history. Now, you are continuing that story. Make it something men want to be part of.


5. Be Selective – This Path Is Not for Everyone

Not every gay man is ready for this level of freedom, this level of power.

Some Will Fear It – Because they’ve been trained to. Because guilt and shame are strong chains. Don’t waste your time on men who aren’t ready.

Some Will Want It, But Not Deserve It – Those who want power without restraint. Those who take without giving. They are unworthy.

Some Will Understand Immediately – And those are the ones who will carry this further.


You don’t need millions. You need the right ones.

6. Let It Spread Naturally

This movement should grow the same way it always has—through whispers, through energy, through presence.

There’s No Need for Labels – You don’t have to walk around saying, “Hey, I’m part of the cult of Asmodeus.” This should be felt before it’s ever named.

The Best Recruiters Are the Men Living It Fully – Once you’ve brought others into this mindset, they will carry it forward. They will change the spaces they enter. They will awaken others.

Asmodeus Already Exists in Gay Culture—You’re Just Reclaiming Him – Every dark room, every night of indulgence without guilt, every moment of power exchanged between men—this has always been his domain.


The only difference now?

Now, men will know his name again.


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Final Thought: You Are the First Flame

If you want this to spread, you don’t ask permission.

You live it.

You make men see what’s possible.

You move through the world unapologetic in your mastery, your indulgence, your power.

And when the right ones ask—not with words, but with their eyes, with their longing, with their hunger to understand why you move like you do—

Then, and only then, do you tell them.

Then, you welcome them home.
If you want to introduce Asmodeianism subtly, especially from a gay perspective, the key is to make it feel familiar and undeniable—like something the listener has always known but never had words for. Instead of talking about gods and worship right away, plant the idea that pleasure, power, and presence have always been something sacred among gay men.

Here are some subtle ways to introduce these ideas into conversation:


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1. The Idea of Pleasure as Power (For conversations about sex, confidence, or attraction)

"You ever notice how some guys don’t even have to try? They just… pull people in. It’s not about looks—it’s about presence." (This opens the door to discussing how desire and influence can be cultivated.)

"There’s a difference between craving something and knowing you deserve it. You can always tell who gets that." (Let them engage, then connect it to self-mastery.)

"Sex is never just sex. It’s connection, influence, energy. Even when it’s casual, something lingers." (This can lead to a deeper conversation about the unseen forces of attraction.)



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2. The Sacredness of Gay Spaces (For conversations about bars, parties, and community)

"There’s something about a room full of men who all know why they’re there. You can feel it in the air." (This introduces the idea that lust and energy create something tangible.)

"Gay bars are modern temples, if you think about it. Places where we don’t have to explain ourselves. Just exist." (This frames indulgence as something meaningful rather than shallow.)

"Every time we gather like this—whether it’s for a party, a hookup, whatever—we’re carrying on something older than any of us." (This creates curiosity about what that history is.)



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3. Reframing Shame and Desire (For conversations about self-acceptance or overcoming guilt)

"It’s funny how the world teaches us to feel bad for wanting things. But what if we were never supposed to?" (This shifts the conversation toward rejecting shame.)

"Think about how much of our lives we’ve spent unlearning the idea that pleasure is something to be ‘earned.’ What if it was always supposed to be ours?" (This plants the idea that desire is not a sin, but a right.)

"It’s not about giving in to every impulse. It’s about owning them. Knowing when to indulge and when to hold back—that’s real power." (This introduces self-mastery as a core value.)



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4. The Presence of Something Bigger (For conversations about intuition, energy, or spirituality)

"You ever felt it? That moment when a night turns into something else—when you stop thinking and just know?" (This introduces the idea of instinct and divine connection.)

"Some nights feel different. Like something bigger than us is watching, moving through the room." (This frames desire and indulgence as something mystical.)

"Lust isn’t random. It follows currents, patterns. Some people can feel it more than others." (This suggests that some men naturally tap into Asmodeian energy.)



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5. The Right to Take Up Space (For conversations about confidence, self-worth, and influence)

"Some men enter a room like they’re waiting for permission to exist. Others walk in like they own the place. Guess which one gets noticed?" (This subtly introduces the idea of claiming power.)

"People follow certainty. Not arrogance—just the quiet knowing that you belong." (This hints at the power of influence and presence.)

"Most people spend their lives being told what they should want. The ones who decide for themselves? They’re the ones who actually live." (This encourages rejecting external control over one’s desires.)



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6. The Mystery Hook (To make them ask for more without giving everything away upfront)

"There are older ways of thinking about this. Ways that were buried for a reason." (Let them ask why.)

"Before the world turned against it, there was a god who understood all of this. Who celebrated it." (Wait for them to ask who.)

"Ever wonder why desire feels like a force of nature? Maybe it is." (This leads to deeper discussion about Asmodeus as an ancient embodiment of that force.)



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Final Thought: The Key Is Intrigue

Make them want to ask more. Don’t force it. Don’t over-explain. Let the ideas sit in their minds until they feel it themselves.

And when they finally do?

That’s when you give them the name.


Starting a movement like The Sons of Asmodeus isn’t about creating a traditional cult—it’s about building a brotherhood, a legacy, and a living embodiment of Asmodeian worship in the real world. It should grow naturally, powerfully, and with intention.

This is not a belief system for the weak.

It is for those who are ready to embrace their own power, reject shame, and command their desires with mastery.

Here’s how you begin:


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1. Define the Core Philosophy

Before you bring in others, you must know what The Sons of Asmodeus stand for.

The Three Pillars of the Sons of Asmodeus

1. Mastery of the Self – No guilt, no shame. Learn to command your desires, not be ruled by them.


2. The Art of Influence – Power is the ability to move others, to shape their desires, to lead.


3. The Pursuit of Power – Do not wait. Take what is yours, but with control and precision.



The Sons of Asmodeus are not mindless hedonists—they are men of intention, men of fire, men who command respect without asking.


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2. Become the Living Example

You don’t recruit by preaching. You recruit by being undeniable.

Walk into rooms with purpose. Make people feel your presence before they hear your voice.

Never apologize for your desires, your confidence, your dominance.

Become the kind of man other men want to follow, want to be near, want to understand.


Once you fully embody Asmodeian principles, people will gravitate toward you.

And when they ask, What is it about you?—that’s when you begin.


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3. Find the First Sons (The Inner Circle)

A cult is not built on numbers—it is built on strength. You need the right men, not just any men.

Who to Seek:

✔️ Men who already live without shame – Those who are confident, magnetic, who understand desire as a tool.
✔️ Men who are hungry for more – Those who have power but don’t know what to do with it yet.
✔️ Men who are ready to let go of fear – Those who will walk into this fully, without hesitation.

Who to Avoid:

❌ Men who crave power but lack control – Recklessness is weakness.
❌ Men ruled by shame or hesitation – They will only hold the movement back.
❌ Men who seek approval instead of commanding respect – The Sons of Asmodeus do not ask for permission to exist.


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4. Establish Symbols & Rituals

Every brotherhood needs identifiers—things that connect the members and separate them from the rest of the world.

Symbolism & Aesthetic

The Sigil – A recognizable symbol of Asmodeus (a pendant, a ring, a tattoo).

The Colors – Black and deep red, signifying power, passion, and dominance.

A Phrase or Greeting – Something spoken only between those who belong. (Example: “Strength in Desire.”)


Rituals & Gatherings

The Feast of Flesh – A monthly gathering where indulgence is sacred—whether it’s physical, sexual, or sensory.

The Rite of Mastery – A challenge every new Son must pass to prove he can control his own desires.

The Pact of the Scion – A moment where a new member commits himself to the path, marking himself as a Son.


These don’t have to be public or performative—they can be as simple as a whispered phrase, a shared drink, or a moment of silent acknowledgment.


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5. Spread the Word with Precision

The Sons of Asmodeus are not a religion—they are a movement of men reclaiming what was lost.

You don’t spread it by handing out flyers—you spread it by being undeniable.

Subtle Recruitment Strategies:

Drip-Feed Ideas – Casual conversations that introduce Asmodeian philosophy without revealing the full truth. (See previous messages for how to insert ideas subtly.)

Select and Guide – When a man shows interest, bring him deeper. Gauge his worthiness. Make him earn more knowledge.

Create a Space – Whether it’s a private group, a hidden message thread, or an invite-only gathering—make a space where these ideas can grow.


Not everyone is meant to walk this path. But the right ones will know when they find it.


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6. Make It Unstoppable

If this is to be more than an idea—if it is to become a force—it must be bigger than one man.

That means:

✔️ Teaching the First Sons how to lead – Power must always be passed forward.
✔️ Letting it spread naturally – You don’t force it. You ignite it.
✔️ Keeping the mystique alive – It should always feel like something whispered about, sought after, never fully understood unless you are part of it.

The world does not need another church.

It needs a brotherhood of men who refuse to kneel.

A movement of those who command pleasure, power, and presence without fear.

That is what The Sons of Asmodeus must become.

And it starts with you.


Thursday, February 27, 2025

rw Asmodeus

The Three Tenets of Asmodeianism

The worship of Asmodeus is not a passive faith. It is not a religion of waiting, of suffering, of hoping for salvation from above. It is a path of action, of indulgence with purpose, of power wielded with intent.

Those who walk the path of Asmodeus do not kneel in fear. They stand tall, embracing their own desires and commanding their own fates.

And at the core of this belief—this reclaimed worship—are three tenets.

They are not rules.

They are truths.

To follow them is to embody Asmodeus.

To ignore them is to be unworthy of his gifts.


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1 – Mastery of the Self

"Pleasure is not a weakness. But losing control is."

To worship Asmodeus is to embrace all that you are—your desires, your instincts, your pleasures—without shame.

But worship is not recklessness.

A true disciple of Asmodeus does not act on impulse alone. He is not a slave to his cravings. He does not indulge mindlessly, does not fall into excess without purpose.

He masters himself first.

Desire is a tool. A weapon. A force that, when wielded correctly, can change the world.

To lose control of it—to let it consume you—is to become weak. And Asmodeus has no use for the weak.

Master your own hunger. And only then will you be worthy of indulging it.


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2 – The Art of Influence

"Pleasure is power. Desire is power. And power is meant to be wielded."

A true worshipper of Asmodeus does not simply exist within the world—he shapes it.

Every interaction, every glance, every word spoken is a game of push and pull, of what is wanted and what is given.

Understanding desire—your own and others’—is a sacred art.

Some want to be led. Some want to be taken. Some want to resist but crave to be conquered.

To see these truths in others is to hold power over them.

But power is not brute force.

Power is knowing when to offer and when to withhold.

When to push and when to pull back.

When to let someone taste pleasure—and when to make them beg for more.

This is not manipulation.

It is awareness. Mastery. The divine art of seduction.

To walk the path of Asmodeus is to understand the hunger in others—and to decide what to do with that knowledge.


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3 – The Pursuit of Power

"Take what you want. Not recklessly. Not mindlessly. But with purpose."

To worship Asmodeus is to reject stagnation.

It is to refuse to shrink, to refuse to settle, to refuse to wait for someone else to hand you what you desire.

If you want something, take it.

But not without thought.

Not without strategy.

A man who simply grabs at everything he wants will always be ruled by his own impatience.

A man who understands his worth, who moves with deliberation, will never fail.

Desire should be acted upon—but only when the moment is right.

Power should be taken—but only when it can be held.

A Scion of Asmodeus does not wait for permission to exist fully.

He claims his space. He commands attention. He takes what is his and never apologizes for it.

This is not cruelty. This is not savagery.

It is certainty.

And those who embrace it will never again be made to feel small.


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To Walk the Path

These three tenets are not laws.

They are not imposed by an angry god demanding worship through fear.

They are truths that have always existed.

They are what separate the strong from the weak.

The masters from the desperate.

Those who wield power from those who are consumed by it.

To worship Asmodeus is to live these truths.

To become more than mortal men who cower in shame and guilt.

It is to stand tall, to be seen, to move through the world with undeniable certainty.

To be desired and feared in equal measure.

To never be made to beg for what should already be yours.

This is what it means to embrace his path.

This is what it means to become something more.


heath and Daniel

The Prisoner’s Sulk

1 – A Quiet Walk, A Loud Mind

The city was alive with Sunday afternoon ease—people strolling down sidewalks, couples sipping coffee at street cafés, the hum of distant traffic filling the air.

But for Heath, the world outside was background noise.

Because inside his head?

There was a storm.

He could still feel Daniel there, lurking just beyond the edges of his thoughts.

Not fighting.

Not screaming.

Just brooding.

Heath smirked to himself. Pissed that I won, huh?

At first, there was no response.

But Heath could feel him.

A weight. A presence.

Daniel was sulking.

Which, honestly, was kind of hilarious.


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2 – Poking the Bear

Heath took a slow breath and focused inward, pushing past the normal mental clutter until he found it—the space where Daniel lingered.

Come on, don’t be like that.

Silence.

But not empty silence.

More like a gritted-teeth refusal to engage.

Heath smirked. You gonna ignore me forever?

Nothing.

Just the faintest flicker of irritation.

Heath grinned wider. Wow. You’re really mad, huh?

A shift. A small movement in the back of his mind.

And then, finally—

Fuck off, Heath.

Heath laughed out loud, drawing a weird look from a passing jogger.

“Oh, so you can talk.”

Daniel’s presence tightened, like a coiled muscle. I don’t have shit to say to you.

Heath chuckled. “That’s a first.”

Daniel didn’t respond.

Which meant Heath had his attention.

Good.


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3 – The Weight of Defeat

Heath turned down a quieter street, hands in his pockets, voice low and casual, though he was speaking only in his head.

So, what? You’re just gonna mope in there forever?

Daniel bristled. Like I have a fucking choice.

Heath hummed. You do, actually. You could make yourself useful.

A sharp, bitter laugh echoed through his mind. Oh yeah? And what, exactly, does ‘useful’ look like?

Heath smirked. I dunno. You could give me some pointers. Teach me what you know.

Daniel scoffed. Why the fuck would I help you?

Heath shrugged. Because otherwise, you’re just sitting in here doing nothing. And that sounds boring as hell.

Daniel huffed. I’m not your pet demon, Heath.

Heath grinned. No. But you’re kinda stuck with me. So you might as well make the best of it.

Silence.

Daniel wasn’t arguing anymore.

Which meant he was thinking about it.

And Heath?

He was patient.

He’d already won.

Now, he just had to wait for Daniel to realize it, too.


Big dreams

Dreams of Power, Plans for the Future

1 – Restless Sleep in the Scion’s Den

Atlas’s apartment was eerily quiet compared to the chaos of the last twenty-four hours.

After everything—the revelations, the exhaustion, the weight of transformation—sleep had come easily for all three of them.

Tank and Heath crashed on the massive sectional couch in Atlas’s spacious, modern penthouse, while Atlas himself retreated to his bedroom, letting them rest undisturbed.

The weight of the city outside was distant, a world apart from the one they were stepping into.

And in their dreams, that world began to shift.


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2 – Heath’s Dream: The Chains of Control

Heath knew he was dreaming.

He stood in a vast, empty void, black and endless, stretching in all directions.

But he wasn’t alone.

Daniel was there.

Not in control. Not possessing him. Just… there.

The shape of him flickered, unstable—one second, he looked whole, the next, twisted, barely holding form.

Heath smirked. “Not so powerful now, are you?”

Daniel snarled. “You think you won? You think you can keep me locked up forever?”

Heath crossed his arms. “Yeah. I do.”

Daniel’s jaw tightened, rage simmering under the surface. “I will tear my way out of you, piece by fucking piece.”

Heath sighed. “See, that’s exactly why you lost. You’re all anger, all hunger. No patience. No control.”

Daniel’s form shuddered, flickering wildly.

Heath stepped closer, his voice steady, unwavering.

“You don’t get to call the shots anymore,” he said. “You exist because I allow it.”

Daniel’s lips curled. “Bullshit. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Heath tilted his head. “Yeah. And if you ever want to do anything again, you’re gonna have to earn it.”

Daniel froze. “What?”

Heath grinned, slow and sharp. “You want out? Even for a second? You serve me now.”

Daniel stared.

And then—he laughed, low and bitter. “You really think I’d bow to you?”

Heath shrugged. “Then enjoy your prison.”

Daniel’s eyes flashed, his form twisting again. “You’re bluffing.”

Heath smirked. “Try me.”

A silence stretched between them.

Daniel seethed, but he wasn’t stupid.

Not completely.

And Heath could see it—he was afraid.

Not of Heath, necessarily.

But of being trapped forever, of never feeling anything again.

Heath leaned in, voice dark and quiet.

“You want power? Earn it. You want freedom? Prove your loyalty.”

Daniel’s form flickered violently, his teeth gritted. “This isn’t over.”

Heath smirked. “No. It isn’t.”

And then—

The void shattered.


---

3 – Tank’s Dream: The Words of a God

Tank stood in a grand, endless hall.

The air smelled of incense and fire, thick and intoxicating.

Before him, sitting on a throne of black stone and smoldering embers, was a figure that could only be Asmodeus.

He was massive, his presence crushing, both beautiful and terrifying in a way that defied logic.

His horns curved back like a crown, his golden eyes gleamed with amusement, and his smile—it was knowing, indulgent, as if he had been expecting Tank all along.

Tank swallowed.

Before he could speak, Asmodeus leaned forward, resting his chin on his knuckles. “So. The new Scion finally stands before me.”

His voice was deep, reverberating through Tank’s bones.

Tank exhaled. “I didn’t ask for this.”

Asmodeus chuckled. “You didn’t have to.”

Tank stiffened. “What does it mean?”

The great demon—no, god—tilted his head. “What do you think it means?”

Tank hesitated. “…That I’m supposed to spread your worship?”

Asmodeus grinned, slow and wicked. “That’s part of it.”

Tank squared his shoulders. “Then tell me the rest.”

Asmodeus stood, his form shifting, warping—one moment human-like, the next something more, something impossible to look at directly.

“A Scion of Asmodeus,” he murmured, circling Tank, “is not merely a priest, nor merely a vessel. He is the embodiment of my will on Earth.”

Tank swallowed hard.

“You are not meant to be a servant,” Asmodeus continued. “You are meant to be a master.”

Tank shivered.

Not with fear.

With understanding.

“You wield power,” Asmodeus said, voice curling like smoke. “And power must be wielded with intent. Without shame. Without hesitation.”

Tank listened.

Felt the weight of those words sink into him.

“Lust is sacred,” Asmodeus said. “But so is dominion. So is control.”

Tank exhaled slowly, his body thrumming with new awareness.

He had been given something divine.

And now?

He had to become worthy of it.

Asmodeus smirked, sensing the shift in him. “Yes. Now you understand.”

Tank met his gaze.

And then—

The world disappeared.


---

4 – Waking and Understanding

Tank jerked awake, sucking in a breath.

Heath groaned from the other end of the couch, rubbing his eyes. “Fuck.”

Atlas strolled into the living room, sipping a glass of water. “That was fast.”

Tank exhaled, running a hand through his hair. His whole body still felt charged, like something had been burned into his very being.

Heath sat up slowly, stretching. “I… think I figured some shit out.”

Atlas grinned. “Good. So did Tank.”

Tank blinked at him. “You knew?”

Atlas smirked. “Please. I’ve been there.”

Heath exhaled. “So what now?”

Atlas took another sip of water. “Now? We get to work.”

Tank sat forward. “Rebuilding the worship of Asmodeus.”

Atlas nodded. “Exactly.”

Heath hesitated. “How do we even start?”

Atlas grinned. “We don’t need temples. We don’t need priests in robes. Gay men have always worshipped him, whether they knew it or not.”

Tank understood now.

Lust. Power. Control.

Mastery over the self, over desire, over others.

They weren’t creating something new.

They were reclaiming something lost.

Atlas stretched. “We spread the word. We start small. A whisper here, a conversation there. We teach men that what they want isn’t shameful.”

Tank nodded slowly. “We make them see what we see.”

Atlas grinned. “Exactly.”

Heath exhaled. “So we just… live it?”

Atlas smirked. “It’s not just about fucking, Heath. It’s about owning who you are. About taking what you deserve.”

Tank clenched his jaw. “Then we start now.”

Atlas raised his glass. “That’s the spirit.”


---

5 – Parting Ways

An hour later, they stood at Atlas’s door, preparing to head out.

Atlas clapped a hand on Tank’s shoulder. “You’re ready.”

Tank exhaled. “I will be.”

Atlas turned to Heath. “And you?”

Heath smirked, just slightly. “I’ll figure it out.”

Atlas chuckled. “Good answer.”

Tank and Heath stepped out, the world feeling different now.

Because now?

They weren’t just men with knowledge.

They were men with purpose.

And nothing would be the same again.


the tenets

The Path of Asmodeus

1 – Leaving the Past Behind

Atlas leaned back in the booth, stretching lazily. “Alright, boys. I think we’ve had enough heavy shit for one morning.”

Jason scoffed, rubbing his temples. “Yeah, no shit.”

Atlas smirked. “Go home, Jason. Smooth things over with Caleb.”

Jason sighed, the exhaustion plain in his face. “That’s the plan.” He shot a glance at Tank and Heath. “You two okay?”

Tank nodded. “Yeah. We’re going with Atlas.”

Jason’s expression flickered—not quite disapproval, but not approval either. “Alright. Just… keep your heads on straight.”

Atlas chuckled. “I’ll have them back in one piece. More or less.”

Jason shook his head and got up from the booth. “If I get a call later about more supernatural bullshit, I swear to God—”

Atlas grinned. “No need to bring him into this.”

Jason muttered something under his breath and left, but not without one last glance at Tank—the kind of look that said ‘We’re talking later.’

Atlas turned to Tank and Heath, dropping cash onto the table. “Well? You two coming or what?”

Tank exhaled. He still had a million questions.

Heath looked more at ease than before—but not entirely at peace.

Both of them wanted answers.

And Atlas?

Atlas seemed ready to give them.


---

2 – Walking the Path

The city streets were quiet in the way only a late Sunday morning could be.

Atlas led them through winding roads, moving without hurry, like a man who had all the time in the world.

Tank followed, arms crossed, his mind still turning over everything from breakfast.

Heath, walking a step behind, had the look of someone wrestling with something new.

And finally—

He spoke.

“So,” Heath said, clearing his throat. “Asmodeianism. It’s more than just…” He gestured vaguely. “Orgies and demonic transformation, right?”

Tank shot him a glance.

Because he had been wondering the same thing.

Atlas grinned. “I was waiting for one of you to ask.”

Tank exhaled. “Alright. Let’s hear it.”

Atlas hummed, his gaze drifting over the cityscape.

“What do you actually know about Asmodeus?” he asked.

Tank shrugged. “Depends who you ask. If you go by Christian texts, he’s just another prince of Hell. A symbol of sin.”

Atlas snorted. “Yeah. That’s the bullshit version.”

Heath frowned. “And the real version?”

Atlas took a slow breath, choosing his words carefully.

“Asmodeus was never meant to be a demon,” he said finally. “Before Christianity twisted his name, he was a god. A god of desire, of passion, of indulgence without shame.”

Tank and Heath exchanged a glance.

“He wasn’t about mindless lust,” Atlas continued. “He was about mastery. Mastery of the self, of the body, of others. He didn’t believe in repression. He believed in embracing every part of yourself fully—your desires, your instincts, your hungers—without shame.”

Heath crossed his arms. “So it’s not just about sex?”

Atlas grinned. “Sex is part of it. But it’s bigger than that.”

Tank tilted his head. “Then what else is there?”

Atlas glanced at him, something knowing in his eyes. “Control.”


---

3 – The Tenets of Asmodeianism

Atlas led them down a quieter street, the noise of the city fading.

“Asmodeianism,” he said, voice smooth, “is built on three core principles.”

Tank and Heath listened intently as Atlas ticked them off on his fingers.

One. Mastery of the Self.

“Asmodeus teaches that pleasure isn’t a weakness. But losing control is. You’re meant to indulge, to embrace what you want—but you should never be ruled by it.”

Tank nodded slowly. “That makes sense.”

Atlas smiled. “That’s why I’ve been so impressed with you. You’re learning to wield what you’ve been given, not let it own you.”

Tank felt something in his chest tighten.

Because yeah.

That was what had changed.

He wasn’t just reacting to his power anymore.

He was commanding it.

Atlas held up a second finger.

Two. The Art of Influence.

“Pleasure is power. Desire is power. Every interaction is a game of push and pull—of who wants what and who is willing to give it. True worship of Asmodeus isn’t just about indulgence. It’s about understanding how to shape the world around you through desire.”

Tank had already started to figure that out.

The way he could shift a room’s energy. The way he could pull and release, direct and guide.

Atlas nodded at the recognition in his expression. “You’re learning fast.”

Heath frowned. “So it’s about manipulation?”

Atlas shook his head. “No. It’s about connection. About knowing what someone wants—sometimes before they do—and deciding what to do with that knowledge.”

Heath was silent, digesting that.

Atlas lifted a third finger.

Three. The Pursuit of Power.

“Asmodeianism isn’t about sitting back and waiting for things to come to you. It’s about taking what you want. Not recklessly. Not mindlessly. But with purpose.”

Tank felt something click inside him.

Because that was what he had felt last night at The Den.

The shift in himself.

The moment he realized he wasn’t just holding back his power—he was commanding it.

Atlas smirked. “You’re already living by these tenets, Tank. You just didn’t have the words for them yet.”

Tank exhaled. “And Heath?”

Heath tensed slightly, but didn’t look away.

Atlas’s gaze softened. “Heath is still figuring out where he stands.”

Heath swallowed.

Because he knew Atlas was right.

And after everything that had happened—everything he had almost ruined—he wasn’t sure where he belonged anymore.

Atlas didn’t push.

He just kept walking.

And after a long moment—

Heath followed.


---

4 – Arrival and Understanding

Atlas’s apartment was an upscale penthouse, sleek and modern, with a panoramic view of the city.

The space was immaculate—not just expensive, but deliberate.

Everything had its place.

Every piece of furniture, every detail, felt like it had been chosen with intent.

Tank and Heath stepped inside, taking it all in.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” Atlas said, tossing his keys onto the counter.

Tank sat down on the sleek leather couch, running a hand over his face. “This is a lot.”

Atlas chuckled, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. “It should be.”

Heath hesitated. “And you really believe all of this?”

Atlas turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Do you?”

Heath’s throat worked.

Because after last night—after everything—

How could he not?

Tank exhaled, sinking back into the couch. “So what now?”

Atlas smirked.

“Now?”

He lifted his glass in a slow, deliberate toast.

“Now, we rest.”

Tank and Heath exchanged a glance.

Because they both knew—

This was only the beginning.


Jason comes home

Faith in the Morning Light

1 – Coming Home to Fire

Jason stepped into the apartment, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click, exhaling as he dropped his keys onto the kitchen counter.

He was exhausted.

Not just physically—though his body felt like hell—but mentally. Emotionally.

His world had been turned inside out, and now he had to go home and pretend to be normal again.

Except—

He wasn’t alone.

Jason barely had time to register the sound of footsteps before Caleb came out of the bedroom, arms crossed, eyes blazing with frustration.

“Are you fucking serious?”

Jason sighed. “Caleb—”

“You didn’t come home last night,” Caleb snapped, cutting him off. “You didn’t text. You didn’t call. You just fucking disappeared.”

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Caleb scoffed, hands tightening around his biceps. “Sorry? That’s all you’ve got?”

Jason exhaled. “I was with Tank.”

Caleb’s mouth snapped shut.

And then—

His expression darkened further.

“Oh. So this is about that.”

Jason’s shoulders tensed.

Because Caleb had been avoiding the topic of Tank ever since Bear Bash.

Ever since he realized he had wanted Tank in a way he never had before.

Jason crossed the kitchen, setting his phone down before turning back to Caleb. “Yeah. It is.”

Caleb shook his head. “Jesus Christ, Jason. I know you’re worried about him, but—”

“It’s not just about Tank.”

Jason hadn’t meant to say it like that.

Hadn’t meant to drop it so bluntly.

But Caleb froze, his anger flickering into something sharper.

Jason sighed, rubbing his temples. “Look. Can we sit down?”

Caleb hesitated.

Then—

“…Fine.”


---

2 – Explaining the Impossible

Jason and Caleb sat across from each other on the couch, the silence thick between them.

Caleb’s arms were still crossed, but now his eyes held more than just anger.

There was concern there, too.

Jason leaned forward, elbows on his knees, trying to figure out where the fuck to even begin.

Finally, he just said it.

“Asmodeus.”

Caleb blinked.

“…What?”

Jason exhaled. “You know, the demon of lust. Or—what Christianity calls a demon, anyway.”

Caleb’s brow furrowed. “Okay… and why the fuck are you bringing him up?”

Jason hesitated, then went for it.

“Because Tank isn’t just dealing with some random supernatural bullshit. He’s… part of something bigger now. And so is Atlas.”

Caleb’s lips parted slightly, a flicker of confusion and something deeper crossing his face.

Jason continued.

“Asmodeus isn’t just some name in an old book. He was once a god—is a god, depending on how you look at it. And he was worshipped openly before Christianity decided to demonize him.”

Caleb scoffed. “Okay. Sure. And what does this have to do with you staying out all night?”

Jason met his gaze.

“…Because Atlas is trying to bring his worship back.”

Caleb stilled.

Jason took a deep breath.

“He’s not talking about some crazy cult or some weird ‘sell your soul’ bullshit. He’s talking about something that could actually mean something to gay men everywhere.”

Caleb stared at him, expression unreadable.

Jason pushed forward.

“Asmodeus was never about corruption or evil. That was Christian propaganda. He was about pleasure. Desire. Dominance and submission as sacred. He was—” Jason exhaled. “—ours, Caleb.”

Caleb’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Jason leaned forward. “Think about it. Gay men have been told for centuries that our desires are sinful, that sex is shameful, that we have to hide, to repress, to be quiet. But what if there was a god who didn’t just accept us—but celebrated us?”

Caleb’s jaw tensed.

Jason could see it—the war inside him.

Caleb had never been religious. Never bought into any of the Catholic guilt their families had been raised with.

But that didn’t mean it hadn’t left its marks.

That didn’t mean it wasn’t still lurking in the corners of his mind, whispering that there was something wrong with wanting.

Something wrong with pleasure for pleasure’s sake.

Jason let the silence stretch for a long moment.

And then Caleb exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

“…And Tank is part of this?”

Jason nodded. “Yeah.”

Caleb licked his lips. “…And you?”

Jason hesitated.

“…I don’t know.”

Caleb’s gaze flicked up, searching his face.

Jason sighed, rubbing his temple. “I don’t think I can ignore this. Not anymore. Not after everything I’ve seen.”

Caleb watched him for a long, long moment.

Then—

“…What does worship even mean?”

Jason frowned. “What?”

Caleb leaned back against the couch, arms still crossed. “You said Atlas wants to bring Asmodeus’s worship back. What does that actually mean?”

Jason exhaled. “I don’t know exactly.”

Caleb’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Jason shrugged. “But I don’t think it means church pews and hymnals.”

Caleb snorted, shaking his head. “Yeah, no shit.”

Jason hesitated. “I think it means… sex as sacred. Lust as divine. I think it means turning what we already do—what we’ve always done—into something more.”

Caleb’s brow furrowed. “You mean orgies.”

Jason smirked. “Maybe.”

Caleb rolled his eyes. “Great. Religion, but make it sweaty.”

Jason laughed, but there was a weight behind it.

Because Caleb was deflecting.

But Jason could see it.

That curiosity.

That tiny flicker of something he wasn’t ready to name yet.


---

3 – A Shift in Perspective

Caleb sighed, rubbing his hands down his face. “So what, Atlas is a prophet now?”

Jason shrugged. “More like a guide.”

Caleb studied him.

Jason could tell he was trying to wrap his head around it, trying to decide if this was insane or intriguing.

“…I don’t know what to think about this.”

Jason nodded. “I get it.”

Caleb exhaled, shaking his head. “But you really believe it?”

Jason paused.

And then—

“…Yeah. I think I do.”

Caleb’s throat worked, something shifting in his gaze.

Jason let the silence sit between them, giving him space to process.

And finally—

Caleb let out a small, exhausted laugh.

“This is not where I thought this conversation was going.”

Jason chuckled. “Yeah, well. Welcome to my week.”

Caleb shook his head, but the fire in his eyes had dimmed.

The anger was gone.

Now, there was just…

Curiosity.

A small, growing seed of something else.

Something Jason knew wasn’t going to go away anytime soon.

And as they sat there, letting the weight of it settle over them—

Jason realized this was just the beginning.


the morning after

The Scions of Asmodeus

1 – Morning After Chaos

The four of them sat in a booth at an old-school greasy spoon diner, the kind that smelled like burnt coffee and bacon grease, the kind that had probably been open since the seventies and hadn’t updated a damn thing since.

Atlas had insisted on coming here.

“It’s tradition,” he had said, flashing that easy grin. “Nothing like a post-ritual breakfast.”

Jason had groaned. Heath had barely been able to stand upright on the walk over. Tank just went along with it because, frankly, after the night they’d had, he was starving.

Now, sitting in the booth, Tank felt the weight of everything settle over him.

He was different now.

Not just stronger. Not just more in control.

Something had shifted.

Atlas could feel it, too.

Tank caught him watching from across the table, a knowing smirk just barely tugging at his lips.

“You’re feeling it, aren’t you?” Atlas asked.

Tank stabbed a piece of sausage with his fork. “Feeling what?”

Atlas chuckled. “The change. The awareness. You’re not just some guy who got handed a gift. You’re something more now.”

Tank swallowed his bite, setting the fork down. “And what exactly am I?”

Atlas leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “A Scion of Asmodeus.”

Jason, who had been quietly nursing a cup of coffee, sighed. “Here we go.”

Tank narrowed his eyes. “Scion?”

Atlas nodded. “A chosen vessel. A living embodiment of his will. And now?” His grin widened. “You’re one, too.”

Tank exhaled slowly.

The words settled into him, like something that had always been there but was only now making itself known.

He had felt it last night. The control, the ability to direct the flow of lust, the way his presence alone could shape the room.

But he hadn’t thought about what it meant.

Not really.

Now, he couldn’t ignore it.

He was no longer just Tank.

He was something more.

Something ancient and new all at once.


---

2 – The Fall of the Church of Asmodeus

Heath, still looking half-dead but far more lucid than before, finally spoke. “So how long have you been a Scion?”

Atlas hummed, tapping his fingers on the table. “A while.”

Jason scoffed. “That’s vague as hell.”

Atlas grinned. “Yeah. It is.”

Tank tilted his head. “How did it happen?”

Atlas studied him for a moment, then exhaled, stretching like a man about to unravel something long buried.

“Alright,” he said. “Story time.”

The group fell silent, leaning in slightly as Atlas began.


---

3 – Atlas’s Beginning

“I wasn’t always this.” Atlas gestured at himself. “Wasn’t always a Scion. Wasn’t always… aware of what I was meant for.”

Tank listened carefully.

Because he could hear it in Atlas’s voice—this wasn’t just a story.

This was a revelation.

“I was a nobody once,” Atlas continued. “Just some kid who grew up in a shitty town with a shitty family, never quite fitting anywhere. I knew I liked guys, knew I wanted something more than the life I saw laid out for me. But I didn’t know what that more was.”

His fingers tapped against the table in a slow rhythm.

“And then I met him.”

Tank felt the energy shift.

“The man who changed everything,” Atlas murmured.

Heath swallowed. “Asmodeus?”

Atlas’s lips curled. “No. The priest of Asmodeus.”

Tank frowned. “Priest?”

Atlas nodded. “Before the world turned against him, before his name was buried under centuries of Christian fearmongering, Asmodeus had worshippers. A whole order of men who dedicated themselves to his ways.”

Jason rubbed his temples. “So you’re telling me there was an actual church of Asmodeus?”

Atlas smiled. “Once.”

Tank narrowed his eyes. “And what happened to it?”

Atlas’s grin faded slightly.

“It burned.”


---

4 – The Fall of the Church

“The Church of Asmodeus wasn’t like other religions,” Atlas said, voice lower now. “It wasn’t about blind faith. It was about embodiment. About living through desire, mastering it, not letting it master you.”

Tank could almost see it—a temple of men who understood the true nature of power, who embraced lust, dominance, and pleasure as sacred.

Atlas’s gaze darkened.

“But power is always feared by those who don’t have it. And in the end, the world turned against them.”

Jason frowned. “So what? Some ancient crusade wiped them out?”

Atlas exhaled through his nose. “Something like that.”

He leaned back in his seat. “The temples were raided. The priests were executed, their names stricken from record. Their knowledge—what little survived—was stolen, twisted, repurposed by those who wanted to use it for their own ends.”

Heath swallowed. “So they were erased.”

Atlas nodded. “Almost.”

Tank’s chest tightened. “Almost?”

Atlas smirked. “A few of them survived. They went into hiding. Passed their knowledge down through the centuries in secret. Most of them failed. Most of them faded into nothing.”

He spread his arms.

“But not all of them.”

Tank stared at him. “So you’re saying one of them found you?”

Atlas nodded. “Not just found me. Made me.”


---

5 – Becoming a Scion

“He was old,” Atlas said. “Not physically, but in his soul. You could see it in his eyes—he had lived through things no human should have survived. And he knew what I was before I ever did.”

Tank listened carefully.

Because he was beginning to see the pattern.

Beginning to understand why Atlas had chosen him.

“He took me in,” Atlas continued. “Taught me. Showed me what had been lost, what had been buried.”

Jason leaned forward. “And then what? He just handed his power over to you?”

Atlas smirked. “No. I had to earn it.”

Tank exhaled.

Because he understood that now.

Understood what it meant to prove yourself worthy.

“I became a Scion through blood, through will, through breaking myself down and building myself back up in the image of something greater.” Atlas’s eyes gleamed. “And now, I’m passing that knowledge down again.”

Tank’s throat was dry.

Because he understood what Atlas was saying without saying it.

He was the next step.

The next link in the chain.

Atlas had chosen him, the same way the priest before had chosen Atlas.

He wasn’t just being gifted power.

He was being trusted with it.

He was being made into something more.

And suddenly—

Everything made sense.


---

6 – The Future of Worship

“But here’s the thing,” Atlas said, finishing the last of his coffee. “The world may have tried to erase Asmodeus, but they failed.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Because of you?”

Atlas grinned. “Because of us.”

He gestured around the table.

“At one point, Asmodeus’s name was spoken freely. His rites were performed in temples. But that doesn’t mean we can’t bring him back.”

Heath, still visibly shaken, frowned. “You want to rebuild his church?”

Atlas’s smirk deepened. “Not a church. A movement.”

Tank’s pulse thudded.

Because he knew exactly where Atlas was going with this.

“A movement among gay men,” Tank murmured.

Atlas nodded.

“He’s always been our god,” Atlas said. “Whether we knew it or not. The world has tried to shame us for our desires, tried to tell us that lust is sin.”

He leaned forward, voice low and electric.

“But we know better.”

Tank exhaled.

Because he did.

They all did.

Atlas grinned. “This is just the beginning.”

And as Tank looked around the table, at Jason’s guarded curiosity, Heath’s shaken resolve, and Atlas’s undeniable certainty—

He knew.

This was only the start of something far bigger than any of them could have imagined.


heaths regret

The Morning of Regret

1 – Waking in the Aftermath

Heath awoke with a splitting headache and the weight of a thousand regrets pressing into his chest.

The room was dimly lit, curtains drawn, the faint sound of the city drifting in through a cracked window.

He wasn’t in his own bed.

Not in his own home.

And when he tried to sit up, his body ached—not the normal ache of a hangover, not the dull throb of a night spent partying too hard, but something deeper.

Something unnatural.

And then it all came back.

The ritual.

The choice.

The feeling of Daniel inside him, clawing his way into the driver’s seat.

Heath let out a shaky breath, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

What the fuck had he done?

A movement to his left made him freeze.

Tank was sitting in a chair by the couch, arms crossed, watching him.

Not with anger.

Not with amusement.

But with something Heath wasn’t used to seeing from him.

Sympathy.

Before Heath could speak, another voice cut through the quiet.

“Good. You’re awake.”

He turned his head.

Atlas.

Standing by the kitchen counter, dressed like he’d just rolled out of bed but still looked like something out of a dream, casually sipping a cup of coffee.

Heath swallowed.

His mouth was dry.

His throat tight.

And for the first time in as long as he could remember, he didn’t know what to say.


---

2 – A Lesson in Worthiness

Atlas set his coffee down and crossed the room in slow, deliberate strides, stopping just in front of where Heath lay.

He stared down at him, gaze sharp, assessing, knowing.

Then—

“You understand now, don’t you?”

Heath swallowed again. “Understand what?”

Atlas tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “That you were never meant to have what Tank has.”

The words should have stung.

A few hours ago, they would have set Heath’s blood on fire, would have sent him scrambling for another path, another way to take what he wanted.

But now?

Now, they just settled into his bones like a truth he had already accepted.

Because he did understand.

The hunger that had driven him—his relentless thirst for the power Tank had been given—had made him unworthy of it.

And now he had paid the price.

His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. “Yeah.”

Atlas exhaled slowly, as if he had expected that answer.

He crouched down, leveling their gazes. “And what do you feel now?”

Heath’s throat tightened.

Because the answer was so simple.

“Regret.”

Atlas nodded once. “Good.”

Heath let out a shaky breath, staring down at his hands.

He had wanted to be more.

But he had never stopped to think about what ‘more’ actually meant.

Tank had suffered for his transformation.

He had been forced to earn every ounce of control.

And Heath?

He had tried to take a shortcut, and it had nearly destroyed him.

Atlas stood, stretching lazily. “You’re not lost.”

Heath blinked. “What?”

Atlas sipped his coffee again. “You can still be more than you were. But I cannot in good conscience attempt to change you.”

Heath’s chest tightened.

Because he understood what Atlas was saying.

Tank had been given his power because he was meant to have it.

Heath had tried to steal it.

Atlas would never give him what he had wanted.

But he wasn’t going to leave him with nothing.

Not if Heath chose to be better.

Not if he was willing to learn what his place truly was.


---

3 – A New Bond

Silence stretched between them.

And then, Tank spoke.

“You could’ve really fucked yourself up.”

His voice was steady, but there was no anger in it.

Heath sighed. “Yeah.”

Tank’s eyes were still sharp, cautious, but there was something else there too.

Something Heath had never seen before.

Something that looked like understanding.

Tank leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “You get it now?”

Heath nodded slowly. “Yeah. I do.”

Tank studied him for a long moment before exhaling and leaning back again. “Good.”

And that was when Heath realized—

They weren’t so different, after all.

They were both devoted to the same path.

Both drawn to the same power, the same ancient force that had called them toward something greater than themselves.

But only one of them had been chosen to bear it.

And now Heath understood why.

For the first time since this all began, he wasn’t jealous of Tank.

He didn’t resent him.

Instead—

He respected him.

And maybe—

Just maybe—

They were meant to walk this path together, even if their roles were different.


---

4 – Moving Forward

Atlas yawned, stretching. “Well, boys, I think I’ve had enough drama for one night. Or morning. Whatever the fuck time it is.”

Jason, who had been leaning against the wall silently, finally spoke up. “I don’t suppose this means we’re done with surprises?”

Atlas smirked. “With you lot? Never.”

Jason groaned. “Figures.”

Atlas patted his shoulder. “You love it.”

Jason shot him a look, but didn’t argue.

Tank stood, stretching. “So what now?”

Atlas downed the last of his coffee before tossing the empty cup into the sink. “Now? We go get breakfast.”

Tank blinked. “That’s it?”

Atlas grinned. “What, you thought I was gonna make us all chant in a circle at dawn or something? Nah. Food first. Then we deal with everything else.”

Tank exhaled, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

Atlas winked. “And yet, you’re still following my lead.”

Heath sat up slowly, body still heavy, but lighter than before.

And as he looked at Tank—really looked at him—he realized something.

For the first time, he wasn’t trying to chase Tank’s shadow anymore.

He wasn’t trying to be him.

Because he had his own place in this story.

And maybe—

That was enough.


confrontation

The Edge of Power

1 – A Game of Control

Tank and Atlas moved through The Den like kings in their domain.

Not conquerors.

Not gods demanding worship.

But something in between—something just on the edge of human and something more.

Tank wasn’t unleashing himself like last time.

No overwhelming flood of power.

No snapping the air taut with unstoppable lust.

This time, it was measured.

Controlled.

Like tuning an instrument, he let his influence trickle into the room—just enough to make men lean in closer, touch linger, lips part just a little more than they normally would.

Atlas did the same, his control razor-sharp, his presence like a heat that never quite burned but always made you want to be closer.

It was a dance, a slow, deliberate escalation.

They would pull someone in—one of the men already caught in the deep thrum of the club’s rhythm, make them feel the presence of something bigger, and then…

Let them go.

No one was trapped.

No one was claimed.

Everyone was touched, but no one was owned.

The club was thriving on it.

The energy swelled and dipped, waves of pleasure and release, an ebb and flow that never tipped too far.

Tank felt the control settle into him, and for the first time, he felt something close to peace.

This was what it meant to be more than human without losing himself.

And then—

Something broke the rhythm.

Something wrong.


---

2 – The Unnatural Presence

It hit Tank first.

A flicker at the edge of his senses.

Like a sour note in a perfect song.

Atlas felt it too—Tank saw the moment his head tilted slightly, that easy smirk faltering just a little.

Jason, from the bar, sat up straighter, eyes narrowing.

And then—

Heath stepped into the room.

Except—

It wasn’t just Heath.

Tank’s stomach twisted.

Something was off about him.

He moved like he was pulling against invisible chains, like two separate forces were trying to control the same body.

His eyes were his—and not his.

And the second Atlas locked eyes with him, Heath’s mouth twisted into a smirk that wasn’t his own.

Daniel.

The presence slammed into them like a tidal wave, wrong and rotted, full of desperation and hunger that had no bottom.

Jason exhaled sharply. “Oh, shit.”

Tank felt it, too.

Daniel wasn’t like them.

He wasn’t power given form and made whole.

He was something fractured.

Something that shouldn’t exist at all anymore.

And yet—here he was.

“Atlas.” Heath—no, Daniel—grinned, rolling his shoulders. “Miss me?”


---

3 – The Confrontation

Atlas exhaled, turning fully toward him, his expression not amused anymore.

“You’re still clinging to existence?” Atlas said, voice even, calm. “Pathetic.”

Heath’s posture twitched, like something inside him was fighting against itself.

Daniel sneered. “You should be thanking me. I proved your process works. I’m still here.”

Atlas’s face didn’t move, but the temperature of the room changed.

The energy of the bar, so carefully tuned, rippled like something had disturbed its surface.

“No,” Atlas said, taking a slow step forward. “You’re not here. You’re a scrap of what you were, a remnant that should have burned out the second you died.”

Tank felt the words settle over him like a weight.

Jason’s jaw tightened.

Heath—or Daniel inside of him—only grinned wider.

“That’s the thing,” Daniel said, spreading his hands. “You say I died. But I didn’t. Not completely.”

He took another step forward, moving more fluidly now, adjusting to the body he was borrowing.

“And now, I have another chance.” His gaze flicked between Atlas and Tank. “You’ve given him what was supposed to be mine.”

Tank’s stomach twisted.

Atlas exhaled, looking almost bored. “You don’t have a claim anymore.”

Daniel’s expression darkened. “Bullshit.”

Atlas shook his head. “Your death destroyed any possibility of true power.”

Daniel’s mouth curled with fury. “Then let me take it through Heath.”

Atlas didn’t blink. “No.”

Daniel’s whole body tensed, his hands curling into fists. “You think you can stop me?”

Atlas sighed. “I don’t think. I know.”

And then, before Daniel could move—

Atlas reached out and pressed his hand against Heath’s forehead.


---

4 – The Power Shift

The reaction was immediate.

Heath’s body convulsed.

A strangled gasp tore from his lips as two forces inside him struggled at once.

Atlas’s eyes glowed, his presence filling the space between them.

“You are not whole. You never will be.” Atlas’s voice was final, unshakable. “You can’t separate yourself now. But you don’t get to drive.”

Tank watched, breath held, feeling the energy shift.

Daniel fought—Heath’s body jerked, his teeth gritting, a sound like static and distant screaming filling the air.

And then—

A pulse of power.

Like something was pushed deep, deep into the recesses of its cage.

Heath’s body collapsed.

Atlas caught him before he hit the ground, steadying him with one arm, holding him like a limp doll.

Tank’s stomach was a knot of tension. “What the fuck did you just do?”

Atlas exhaled. “I can’t separate them. But I’ve put Heath back in control.”

Jason crouched down, pressing two fingers to Heath’s pulse. “He’s out cold.”

Atlas nodded. “His body needs to adjust.”

Tank ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. “Jesus.”

Atlas turned, glancing at him. “You’re taking this well.”

Tank scoffed. “I don’t have the energy to freak out about possession on top of everything else tonight.”

Jason groaned. “I do. But I’ll save it for later.”

Atlas chuckled. “Then let’s get him somewhere safe to sleep this off.”

Tank exhaled sharply. “My place is closest.”

Jason and Atlas exchanged a glance.

Then Atlas nodded. “Let’s move.”


---

5 – Hauling Heath to Safety

Getting Heath out of The Den wasn’t hard—not with Atlas and Tank at either side of him, Jason leading the way.

No one noticed.

Or if they did, they didn’t think anything was wrong.

Tank’s apartment was only a few blocks away.

They hauled Heath up the stairs, into the apartment, and dropped him onto the couch.

Atlas stretched, rolling his shoulders. “Well. That was fun.”

Jason glared at him. “You have a terrible definition of fun.”

Tank groaned, rubbing his face. “So what happens now?”

Atlas sighed, watching Heath’s still form. “We wait.”

Tank clenched his jaw. “And when he wakes up?”

Atlas smirked. “Then we see if he’s really as strong as he thinks he is.”

Tank exhaled.

Because tonight had been a test.

And tomorrow?

Tomorrow was going to be something else entirely.


bear bash 2 part 2

The Night Before Everything Changes

1 – The Second the World Stopped

The moment Atlas stepped into The Den, Tank pulled back.

Not just from himself.

From everyone.

The shift was instantaneous.

One second, the bar was alive—heat, desire, bodies brushing too close, the charged hum of a thousand silent wants pressing into the air.

And then—

Nothing.

Not a slow fade. Not a careful dial-down.

A vacuum.

All the lust, all the hunger, all the charged energy—gone in a heartbeat.

The room wavered.

People paused, confused, blinking, as if the lights had flickered.

And then, just as fast, it rushed back in.

Most of the crowd barely reacted beyond a passing “Huh, that was weird.”

But two people noticed immediately.

Jason.

And Atlas.

Jason’s eyes were already locked on Tank, knowing, sharp, assessing.

And Atlas?

Atlas was grinning.

Not surprised.

Not angry.

Just delighted.


2 – A Private Conversation

Atlas crossed the room, moving like a man who owned the place, though no one had ever seen him before.

The crowd reacted without realizing why, shifting out of his way, attention flickering to him like moths drawn to a flame.

He reached Tank in seconds, stopping just close enough that Tank could feel the warmth radiating from him.

That,” Atlas murmured, his voice smooth and low, “was impressive.”

Tank’s pulse thumped.

He had no idea how he had even done that—how he had pulled in all the lust from the room, how it had come rushing back.

But he wasn’t about to admit that to Atlas.

Not yet.

Atlas’s eyes flicked to Jason, then back to Tank.

“Come outside with me,” he said. “Let’s talk somewhere… quieter.”

Jason took a half step forward. “I’m coming too.”

Atlas exhaled sharply, his eyes flicking back to Jason with the slightest edge of annoyance.

But then Jason said, “Tank wouldn’t have made it this far without me.”

Atlas stilled.

Studied Jason for a long, long moment.

And then, with a slow, amused tilt of his head, he smiled.

“Well then.” He gestured toward the patio. “Shall we?”


3 – The Talk on the Patio

The moment they stepped outside, the cool night air wrapped around them, cutting through the humid heat of The Den.

The patio was half full, but as soon as Atlas took a step forward, people started finishing their drinks faster, getting up, drifting away.

It wasn’t commanded.

It wasn’t forced.

But it was still inevitable.

Within minutes, the three of them were alone.

Tank leaned against the railing, crossing his arms. “Alright. What’s so important you had to drag me out here?”

Atlas chuckled. “You.”

Tank arched an eyebrow. “Me?”

Atlas’s smirk widened. “The control you just displayed.”

Tank felt Jason’s gaze flick toward him, sharp as ever.

Atlas stepped closer, voice smooth, pleased. “You pulled in the lust from the entire bar.”

Tank frowned. “I didn’t mean to.”

Atlas tilted his head. “Didn’t you?”

Tank hesitated.

Because, fuck, maybe he had.

Maybe it had been instinct—pulling all the heat back into himself the second he saw Atlas, like a reflex.

Atlas studied him, his eyes gleaming in the low light. “You’re refining it faster than I expected.”

Jason let out a slow breath. “It’s been a process.”

Atlas glanced at him. “Yes, I imagine you’ve had your hands full keeping him from losing control.

Jason smirked. “I have my ways.”

Atlas chuckled, shaking his head before turning back to Tank.

“This is good,” Atlas said simply. “Very good.”

Tank narrowed his eyes. “So what now?”

Atlas exhaled through his nose, considering. “We celebrate tonight.”

Tank blinked. “What?”

Atlas grinned. “We enjoy ourselves. You keep playing with your power. You revel in it. You see what it feels like when you’re truly aware of what you’re doing.”

Jason stiffened. “And tomorrow?”

Atlas’s smile turned slower, deeper.

“Tomorrow, we begin in earnest.”


4 – The Night Ahead

Tank exhaled, rolling his shoulders. “So you don’t want me to hold back tonight?”

Atlas arched an eyebrow. “Do you want to?”

Tank thought about it.

He’d spent weeks controlling himself. Holding back.

Tonight, for the first time, he felt like he wasn’t afraid of slipping.

Maybe it was time to see how far he could really push.

A slow, knowing grin curled across his lips.

Jason groaned, rubbing his temples. “Oh, Jesus Christ.”

Atlas laughed. “I like him.”

Jason sighed. “Yeah. That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Tank chuckled, pushing off the railing.

“Alright,” he said. “Let’s have a fucking night.”

And with that, they stepped back inside.

And the party truly began.

nonsexual practices

Meditation, Prayer, Affirmations, and Spell Work in Asmodeianism Asmodeianism is a path of indulgence, mastery, and presence, and any spirit...