#everyone pray for my ass Being forced to attend mass is not enough

[amiharana]

my classes starting this week Who booed 🍅

[archivesdiveronarpg]

Congratulations, PIKA! You’ve been accepted for the role of HELENUS. Pika, I’ve been waiting for a Helenus application for a long, long time and I can say with utmost certainty that your application did NOT disappoint. Quite the opposite! You nailed every single aspect of Hugo down so perfectly I almost can’t believe it. His mannerisms and dialogue in your interview and sample were beautifully wary, and you get a sense of his devotion to God and why he’s so admired as a priest - but with one line you also nailed why he excels as an emissary. I can’t wait to see our beautiful, conflicted, weary priest on our dash. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within twenty-four hours. 

                                                                         WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | pika.

Age | eighteen.

Preferred Pronouns | she/her/hers or they/them/theirs, i’m honestly not super picky.

Activity Level | tbqh…not great? i can’t promise anything more than my best, which is usually activity at least every other day (though i try to get on daily!). probably a 6/10, if i were to give it a number.

Timezone | pst.

Permission | ye sure!

In Character

Character | helenus ;; hugo kim

What drew you to this character? | i’m not gonna lie, hugo definitely snuck up on me. the paradoxical image of the sinning holy man was striking, but as i never read troilus and cressida, i didn’t quite feel comfortable enough with the character to apply the first time i peeped around diverona. so, this became an application for puck. anyway, fast forward a few days: i missed the friday acceptances, i looked into helenus a little (both the shakespeare and greek versions), and hooooo boy the inspiration just kind of…came? i mean, there’s a lot to draw from between the bio, the mythology, and the play.

to actually answer your question, i think what drew me to hugo was his internal conflict. hugo is a study in dichotomy, in balance. as a priest, he lives in a world of black and white, yet his reality bleeds an ugly, mottled grey (except for when it bleeds red, kek). he walks a precipice between faith and doubt (or more accurately, faith and love), and more than anything, i get the feeling he dreams on wings broken by reality. i’m not normally one partial to the good guys (i’m more of a chaotic-neutral kinda gal), but the thing with hugo is that he both is and isn’t a good guy, if that makes any sense. he’s a good man who does (has done, will do) bad things. he’s got vices that’ll come back to bite him in the ass. he’s an angel in free-fall, and i’ll be damned if that’s not intriguing to me.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

► 001. i am the lord thy god (comedy at its highest reveals a tragedy, and darling, you’re the biggest laugh of all)

living such a juxtaposed double life isn’t healthy. i’d like to explore how hugo is affected by the hypocrisy of his actions. how can a man preach kindness to all in one moment, then turn around and promise threats in the next? one of hugo’s biggest struggles is between balancing his role as a man of god and a man of the montagues. and obviously, this causes a lot of moral conundrums. at some point, the balance must tip.  i want hugo to make a choice one way or the other: fate or faith? it doesn’t have to be an explicit choice (in fact, it likely wouldn’t be), but rather, defiance or compliance with an order.  i want to see an embittered hugo, a cynical hugo. a hugo questioning his faith (or really, his identity). faith is such a central part of hugo’s character; what is he without it? is he anything without it? gimme a hugo wrecked by the war—just another casualty. how will this affect him? he is, essentially, pitting his family against his personal ethics—two fundamental aspects of himself. i imagine it may very well tear him apart, either figuratively or literally, depending on his choice.

► 002. thou shalt have no other gods before me (vacant eyes and hearts and hands)

all of hugo’s connections are fun, but oho, cinead’s. cinead’s. cinead terrifies hugo. hugo believes in one God, but to deny the power of the witches is a unique kind of heresy in which even hugo is reluctant to partake. there is only one way to reconcile this: hugo believes cinead to be the devil. well. perhaps not the devil, but his devil. i’d like to see the evolution of their relationship, how the unstoppable force meets the immovable object. hugo…doesn’t pride himself on being good at manipulating people, exactly, but he is aware he’s good at it. however, he’s outmatched by the witch, and i don’t know that he knows it. it might take him a while before he even realizes how easily he’s manipulated by cinead. interestingly, this is a plot that could break hugo, but is also possibly the only one that allows him to be truly free—after all, the hedonist is slave only to his own desires. so. yeah.

► 003. ye shall erect these stones which i command thee (though you shroud yourself in white, even you bleed red)

as a priest, hugo’s first and only devotion is to god. and he’s been good about that. but he’s still only a man. i’d like to see hugo form a romantic attachment to somebody. bonus points if it’s a guy (i hc hugo as being panromantic demisexual), because hi internalized institutional homophobia. the world of romance is a dangerous new frontier for hugo, and exploring that has a 70:1 chance of ending in angst, because, y’know…jesus.

In Depth

What is your favorite place in Verona?

“You’d probably expect me to say the Cathedral, wouldn’t you?” Hugo chuckles, steepling his fingers on his desk. “I mean, I suppose I ought to say the Cathedral, seeing how it is my home parish. And I do love it, I do. It is, without a doubt, the most beautiful house of worship I have had the honor of laying my eyes upon, much less preaching in. But—”

(…but in Verona, the Cathedral is not a place for the Lord. It is a place for Them, and Hugo cannot help the seed of resentment that buds in his heart when he thinks of their arrogance, of their flagrant insistence to squander their power in the futile pursuit of more. They have deluded themselves into playing god, have lost sight of His way in their games of war. Pride is perhaps the most deadly of the sins, but it is not the only one.)

“—but I must admit to be rather partial to the library. I love books.” His small office is a testament to his statement. Books and writing are strewn across the room in an organized sort of chaos; there appears to be some kind of system, but it’s incomprehensible to the untrained eye. “Stories, facts…you could live entire lives in a library.”

What does your typical day look like?

“Busy.” There’s a rueful twist to Hugo’s smile. “It’s Lent, which means we must prepare for the Easter Triduum alongside regular mass…which means, basically, there’s a lot going on.” And that’s before he factors in his emissary work, which has been anything but typical since Alvise’s death. “Still, my day is pretty structured. I’ll wake up, pray, eat something light. Then I’ll go to the Cathedral and assist with business there for the day. How long I stay varies, depending on my, ah…personal business. Eventually, I’ll find my way home for the night. I always end the day with a prayer.”

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?

Hugo heaves a heavy sigh. “War is…” Ugly. Profitable. Terrible. Beautiful. He trails off, seemingly unsatisfied with the direction of his thought.

A moment passes. Another. He tries again. “One misconception people have about the Lord, I feel, is that He is responsible for war, for suffering. I think people misunderstand his power; God is Almighty and omnipotent, but also gifted us with autonomy. One of His greatest gifts is the freedom from him—the freedom to make our world. He relinquished control so that we may be free.” His voice lightens with a levity that only feels somewhat forced. “I don’t know that I’d call this war, yet, but for all our sakes, I pray it doesn’t become one. Things are already enough, as it is.”

He stands up; there is business to attend to. “There are a lot of things I could say about the war, but let’s leave it at this: may God have mercy on their souls.” He sighs. “On all our souls.”

In-Character Para Sample:

One truth that Hugo couldn’t deny: emissary work was not unlike addressing a congregation. In both, the man was the messenger—an arm of a higher being, with no real power of his own. An effective messenger understood this; an effective messenger didn’t need power. After all, why waste your breath preaching your own insignificance when you can channel the will of a god? No, persuasion was the most effective tool available to the mortal man. Though the body belonged to the Lord, the heart belonged to the individual.

And there were few people as good as playing heartstrings as the man who looked back at Hugo in the mirror. The man sighed, tugging one hand through his hair and another across his plain black shirt. Hugo’s vestments laid neatly folded behind him, the celebratory white and green a flash of brightness from the mass he concluded only an hour earlier. The mass’ other holdover, the joyful buzz from performing a service, had long since faded, only to be replaced by a new (though not unfamiliar) sensation: the buzz of anticipation. There were fewer things Hugo hated more than being called to work immediately following a mass. He had been acting as the Montague’s emissary for long enough that it didn’t phase him—he even had taken to wearing all black under his alb and vestments, just in case—but switching from a celebrant to a businessman was immeasurably draining.

Still, when duty called, he answered. Casting his reflection one more sigh, he grabbed the mobile off the corner of his desk and exited his tiny office. He took his time walking through the Cathedral’s hallways, nodding to everyone he passed in greeting but not making any effort at initiating conversation. He couldn’t help but blink when he exited the building; it was an overwhelmingly sunny day, truly worthy of being called the Lord’s Day.

Hugo headed toward the spot of darkness in the light, a sleek black sedan parked on the street corner. He nodded at the driver, an unremarkable associate whose name always escaped Hugo, in greeting, and settled into the passenger’s seat as the vehicle roared into motion.

“You’re late, Father,” the driver said.

Hugo caught the sigh that threatened to escape by the skin of his teeth—it was a terrible habit, the sighing, really. “Yes, well. Patience is a virtue, you know. Besides, I had a few matters to attend to at the church before I left.”

The driver snorted, an inelegant sound. “Pft. The church has been around for a couple thousand years. It could’ve waited ‘til after you did your business for the Family. Should’ve. Apparently you’re meetin’ with someone important.”

“More important than the—!” Hugo was scandalized. Did this heretic not realize that Easter was in a month? No, he reasoned, composing himself, probably not. The priest coughed into his fist, and continued in a more measured tone. “Ahem. Yes. I’ve been told this is a…delicate deal.”

That morning, Hugo had been told to pay a visit to a dealer associated with the Montagues. Apparently, the fool had been keeping a higher portion of his profits than the family liked, so they had decided to send the priest in to remind the man of the immorality of theft. Well, Hugo had supposed, you couldn’t deny the Montagues had a sense of humor.

Their conversation lulled into silence as the drove through the city. Hugo watched as it flew by in the window, nice neighborhoods bleeding into slums bleeding into historical centers. They slowed in a middling part of town—you wouldn’t take a tourist there, perhaps, but the area had a familiar vibrancy unique to locals. The driver pulled up to a rather nondescript home that looked to have been repurposed as an apartment complex.

“Ya got a gun on you, Father?” The driver asked.

“Unfortunately, yes.” It weighed heavily in Hugo’s pocket, another habit adopted in Verona. “Wait here until I get out. I pray the proceedings won’t escalate, but it never hurts to be prepared.”

“Aw, Father, you don’t need to worry. Who in their right mind’s gonna shoot at a priest? That’s, like, a one-way ticket to hell.”

And extorting drug dealers isn’t? The sardonic thought went unsaid as Hugo gave the driver a final acknowledgement and exited the car. A cursory glance at the tenant list gave him his final destination, and he entered the building with a pride he didn’t feel, a one-man processional sent to deliver the word of God to the heretic. Upon reaching the intended’s door, he knocked once, twice. A man, presumably the target, opened it—what a fool, Hugo thought—and regarded the priest with a wary glance, hand snaking to the waistband of his pants. So he knew why the angel had been sent to his door. Good. That made Hugo’s job much easier. Primly, he adjusted his shirt collar.

“Tell me,” he said, voice gentle but knowing, “did you know that theft is a sin?”

Time to go to work.

Extras:

a playlist–

ultralight beam ;; kanye west

( i’m tryna keep my faith, but i’m lookin’ for more / somewhere i can feel safe / and end my holy war )

talking to myself ;; gallant

( how’d my own molecules forsake me? / atoms changed behind my back )

blessings ;; chance the rapper

( don’t believe in kings, believe in the kingdom )

fall away ;; twenty one pilots

( every time i feel my selfish ambition is taking my vision / and my crime is my sentence / repentance is taking commission )

in the woods somewhere ;; hozier

( his bone exposed / his hind was lame / i raised a stone to end his pain )

day n nite (nightmare) ;; kid cudi

( within his dreams he sees the life he made / the pain is deep / a silent sleeper, you won’t hear a peep )

fade ;; kanye west

( when no one ain’t around / i think i think too much / ain’t nobody watchin’ / i just fade away )

medicine ;; daughter

( you’ve got a warm heart / you’ve got a beautiful brain / but it’s disintegrating )

hc’s & misc. bits

hugo is technically ordained as an eastern catholic priest, but is familiar with roman catholic tradition.

hugo is fluent in russian and italian. he speaks the latter with a trace of an accent of the former. he also speaks pretty good english, and is fair in classical latin.

this was kinda obvious in the para sample, but hugo sighs a lot?? the man is tired; let him live. other ticks include pacing and holding his hands on his hips. he gesticulates a lot when he speaks, especially when impassioned.

he keeps an extensive collection of herbal teas. his favorite is oolong, though his daily staple is earl grey.

hugo and albert used to call each other every week. hugo feels guilty because he’s been letting their phone calls slide recently.

hugo tries not to curse, and is usually pretty successful. when he starts breaking out the expletives, you can safely assume shit has hit the fan.

hugo claims that his plain choice in clothes is strictly a practice in practicality and professionalism. this is true. it is also true, however, that he’s otherwise hopeless at picking outfits. don’t bother flashing your rolexes and red bottoms at him, because it’ll go right over his head.

i feel like i was a little heavy on the angsty/struggling side of hugo in the app, but he really doesn’t come across as such in his interactions. he’s kind of a nerd tbh.

anyway, thanks for reading! i wanna apologize for playing hard and loose with catholicism; i’m a minimalist catholic, but there are definitely aspects here that may or may not reflect the actual rl church haha

[writeoncowgirl-blog]

Lead Us Not Into Temptation

Dipper Pines was standing in one of the many pews on cue of the rest of the congressional inside a spacious and elaborately decorated church. The multitudes of voices resounded around the walls of the holy building, filling the room with spiritual reverence through somber recitation of the Nicene Creed. The teenager’s mouth moved automatically, having committed the Creed to memory long ago, but his mind was focused on a different type of devotion. One specifically dedicated to the beautiful blond haired man currently leading the mass in the profession of faith.

Had Dipper felt guilty about engaging in lustful fantasies about the good Father? Absolutely, especially in the Lord’s house. But he couldn’t help it. Every time the boy had turned away from the temptation, the imagery kept coming back in more intense forms. And right now Dipper desperately envisioned the priest’s disrobed figure pressing flush against his own body; he wanted to feel those holy hands roam all over his sinful body; he wanted to have the man grind roughly against his crotch and whisper filthy things into his ear with a voice that came from the heavens.

His face never gave way to his daydreams however (he made sure of that), he simply stared blankly towards the lavishly adorned altar while his mind indulged in the tempting thought of initiating one of the carnal sins with a man who obeyed the word of God, and the word of God alone. 

Dipper brushed his fingers against the edge of his pew, running his nails over stray scratches in the wood. He felt like such an awful person for deliberately wanting to lead a priest away from the path of righteousness. Surely, only a demon would continuously think about such a thing. Dipper prayed for strength, he’s prayed for chastity, he’s prayed for guidance away from these wicked thoughts - to no avail. All his endurance would wither away at the sight of those beautiful golden eyes locking with his. Even when his elder didn’t look at him, the way the clergyman’s stride alone could command a room made the teen wish he could comply to very different commandments given by the priest.

With a wave of the hand, Father Cipher spoke. “All rise.”

Dipper followed with the rest of the mass, suddenly feeling a wave of excitement rush through him at the priest’s words. One of his favorite parts was coming and it was enough to drive the teen out of his lurid fantasies if for just a moment.

The clergyman gestured out to his audience with open arms behind the altar, facing everyone with that handsome russet-brown face of his. “Pray, my brothers and sisters, that our sacrifice may be acceptable to God, the almighty Father.” His ringing voice conveyed a strong sense of importance and kinship, it made Dipper almost feel close to the unattainable holy man.

With this, the teenager replied confidently with the rest of the congressional. “May the Lord accept the sacrifice at your hands... for the praise and glory of his name.... for our good, and the good of all this Church.” The response always made Dipper think that more life was suddenly given to the paintings of stages of the crucifixion that hung to the walls. They reminded everyone of the guilt that was held above them all, and whenever they begged the Lord for, well, anything, it felt like they should be ashamed of themselves.

The Father then began to sing the prayer over the offerings of the metaphorical Body and Blood of Christ, an event that made Dipper shiver with joy. The melody came from the priest’s voice alone, and the lone sound of Father Cipher’s singing brought an inexplicable happiness to the teenager’s being. There was something about the devotional tone of the man’s vocals that always had Dipper reeling throughout the rest of the mass. He did, however, feel slight traces of sadness emerge as he thought about the reverend’s lovely voice, releasing a gentle, inaudible, sigh. He wished that the priest could be directing that beautiful song of his to him and only him, but Dipper knew that could never happen. Not for him, not for anyone but the Lord, God, alone. He selfishly wished that he could cage that angelic voice and keep it all for himself. His precious angel among angels.

When the time for communion came and the choir began to sing their hymns, Dipper fought down the usual warmth that crept up his cheeks as his turn came up in the line next to the pews. Their church typically gave communion on the tongue instead of putting in your hands, and it really didn’t help his ever-growing attraction to the man with having to be given communion this way. He gave the ceremonial bow of the head to the person in front as they received their rite, then bravely stepped forward to the priest that haunted his thoughts every hour of the day and night. He looked up to see the dear Father smiling down at him very charmingly, practically taking Dipper’s breath away. The reverend always was very friendly towards Dipper, apparently taking a liking to his poor damned soul. Instead of returning Father Cipher’s gaze, the teen tried to low-key focus on the priest’s graceful hands picking a wafer from their container and holding it out in front of his face. Dipper blinked awkwardly. He couldn’t let him know. He can’t ruin everything just because of some stupid schoolboy crush he had.

The reverend hummed happily, “The body of Christ.”

Dipper closed his eyes for his own good and shyly opened his mouth in response. Despite refusing to look at his idol, the feeling of clergyman’s fingers barely entering his mouth still set him off in the worst way possible. The light pressure of fingers to his tongue separated only by a thin wafer of bread made him seriously regret his decision to close his eyes in the first place. The teenager curled his tongue in quickly, tightly bringing his lips together and staring at his shoes in an instant before he made his way back to the pews. Don’t think about sucking his dick, don’t think about sucking his dick, for the love of Mary, Jesus, and Joseph, Dipper Pines do NOT think about sucking that man’s- oh Christ have mercy on me.

As soon as mass was over, Dipper didn’t stick around to shake the Reverend’s hand at the door like all the others. He had to shake a different thing out of his system and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to the safe confines of his home to do it.

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

Bill Cipher chuckled to himself as he read over the speech he’d presented at today’s mass in the priest’s room. The speech he gave on the temptation of mortal sins was the least he could do to repay Pinetree for his loud thoughts giving him such delicious visuals every single mass he’d attended. The demon’s fingers dug behind his black and white roman collar, loosening the absurd confinement around his neck so he can breathe a little more freely. Warmth ran through his body as he thought about reading that awful kid’s mind every single time he held a mass. He had to do something about it, and no screams for mercy could stop this demon from giving that kid exactly what he deserved.

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

He had to repent, there was no getting out of confession now. He had to admit what he’s done and beg for forgiveness, otherwise he’d be on a one-way-trip to hell and never be coming back - or at least that’s what the religion says. Really, it wasn’t as much the fear of hell-fire that scared him into confession, as much as it was the shame of reducing a human being’s visage down to just a mere stimulant for his sex drive. Serves him right for lusting after a holy priest and then jerking off to the many fantasies that ran through his head about an individual so sacred. 

He’s literally masturbated to a priest. A priest, for God’s sake. Was that even heard of before? He didn’t bother to google that one up before stepping inside the empty, dimly lit, church. He creeped gingerly down the main aisle, careful not to let his presence be known quite yet. Dipper called the preacher the day before, asking if he could do confession with him the next time he was granting the sacrament. The teen was thinking Father Cipher would schedule him in for sometime in the future - like the Saturday of next week, when confession was actually held -  but he was frighteningly disappointed when the preacher was happy to pen Dipper in for a private appointment with him the very next day after their phone call.

“Oh, God help me.” Dipper whispered to himself before sitting himself down carefully in one of the old creaky pews. Dipper’s hands nervously fiddled with the handcuffs of his long sleeved shirt. He didn’t want to do this, but he supposed the Reverend had the right to know if one of his loyal followers was thinking up lewd visuals of him and soiling his holy image with their thoughts.

The teenager had to fight off some nervous shakes that threatened to paralyze his body before he even entered the building, but they came back with a vengeance as he mentally recited what he wanted to say to the man.

What could he say?

Hey Father, so I was hoping you could absolve me of my sins. Y’see, I’ve been getting myself off at night to the thought of you forcing me against a wall and fucking my little gay ass without mercy. I need you to give me penance if you can, thanks so much.

Dipper groaned and silently banged his head on the wooden railing. This wasn’t going to go well.

But he can’t chicken out now, he’s only got one shot at this. Besides, it can’t be that bad! It’s a priest’s job to offer advice after a person confesses, surely Father Cipher can do something to help Dipper with his obsession... even if it is about the clergyman in question. The teen slouched forward in the narrow pew and put his head in his hands. An annoying ache started buzzing right in the middle of Dipper’s forehead as he continuously went back and forth about how to do this. 

That was it, he just had to wing it. He had a split second of determination now, and he wasn’t going to waste it. It’s now or never. He looked over his crisp white dress shirt and black slacks to make sure he looked proper for Confession. Finally taking a deep breath and creeping out of the pew, his footsteps slowly made their way to the velvet curtains that lead to the confessional booth. No going back.

Overwhelming fear took hold of his body once he was face to face with a wooden chair that sat next to wiry lattice. Father knew that it was him, so the anonymity would be useless - however, he absolutely didn’t want to look him in the face and admit what he did, despite that being the right thing to do. He felt like no matter what he did it was going to be a wrong move. His legs turned into blocks of stone, happy to leave him standing there like an idiot at the end of the threshold.

Suddenly a familiar silvery voice chuckled. “Don’t be scared, my little lamb. You’re safe here.”

Dipper's lungs collapsed and his heart dropped dead. He swallowed harshly, frozen in place. The Reverend must’ve heard him walk in. He had to respond now. What was he going to do? 

Bouts of incoherent stuttering fell out of his mouth while he tried to command the courage to simply speak straight, but Father (thankfully) interrupted his awkward babbling with some sharp laughter from behind the screen. Dipper didn’t know whether to be thankful or even more embarrassed. He heard the slight shuffling of clothes, then all of a sudden the handsome priest himself popped out from around the lattice with a very amused expression, and sauntered towards Dipper. The man was dressed as if he’d just served mass, wearing the traditional cassock with a black fascia around his waist. The buttons below the fascia were unbuttoned in an informal fashion. A regal violet sash was hung around the preacher’s neck - a gold cross embellished on both strips of the material, where gold fringe dangled at the ends.

The reverend put a hand on Dipper’s shoulder, chuckling, “Man, you’ve really got to unwind kid. This lil confessional’s not gonna help you ease out of an asthma attack.”

“I-I’m not having an asthma attack.”

“Oh, at the pace you’re working yourself into, you’ll get there soon enough.” Father Cipher winked, gently patting Dipper’s back. The teen’s body arched up like a scared little cat, not being able to handle the slightest amount of physical contact without warmth crawling up his face. The reverence noticed his apparent discomfort, eyeing the brunette from behind his shoulder. “Come here, Pinetree. It’ll be okay.” The priest gestured for Dipper to follow him back to his chair behind the screen, and the teen reluctantly followed. They sat in their respective seats across from one another in the tightly enclosed space, familiarity on one end and hostility on the other.

Father Cipher waited for Dipper’s shaky sign of the cross before going on to pray, “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.”

Dipper replied, “Amen,” then took a moment to carefully assess his words as his brow furrowed. He still wasn’t sure how to go about this. “ Bless me father for I have sinned. I’ve been... thinking impure thoughts.”

The priest nodded. “About?”

“Ah, um...You.”

There was a pause. Father Cipher cocked a brow at that. “M’mm, so that’s what all the fuss is about?” A shiver rolled down Dipper’s spine from the Reverend’s hum. He kept his head down, unwilling to let his see just how red his face got. The preacher folded his hands over his knee and leaned over in a casual manner, not seeming nearly as aghast as Dipper thought he would look. “Care to elaborate on those thoughts, Pinetree?”

The teen squeezed his eyes closed, unable to look at the pastor. “I-I just...” Dipper took in a deep breathe to quell the shaking in his chest. “I have been... having... fantasies... about you...and I don’t want to stop them.”

“Sexual fantasies, then.”

Dipper grimaced, his eyes shut impossibly tight - almost as tight as his fists were curled up on his pant legs. “Yes,” he confirmed in a meek voice. He didn’t know how the priest could just say it so casually.

Father Cipher’s gaze didn’t waver from Dipper’s shy face. His body posture fully engaged now, he questioned the teen further. 

“What do you want me to do to you?”

The teen swallowed hard at that and looked up with a cautious expression. “W-what?”

The clergyman chuckled at his stammer. “I asked what you would like me to do to you, from your thoughts.” He kept his eyes locked with his confessor’s. “You’re going to describe your fantasies to me so I can absolve you of your sins, Pinetree. ” 

Dipper tried to ignore the arousal that swelled in his stomach from Reverend Cipher’s dominant tone of voice. He cleared his throat, trying desperately to assume a casual demeanor in all of this. “Fa-Father Cipher, I’m not sure if I can do that. They’re really-”

“Just tell me what we did.”

The teen rose a hand to restlessly ruffle up his bangs, partially revealing his birthmark in the process. Dipper felt impossibly awkward as he continued, focusing on the wall to his left instead of the preacher. “Right. Ah... We, um, we-we kissed in the fantasies. A lot.” “Um - I, ah, would imagine you pinning me up against a wall, g-grinding against m-me.” “You would run your hands over me, and- Listen, this-this is really bad. I’m so sorry, I can’t-”

“Alright,” Bill interrupted, getting up. “If you can’t tell me, then we’re going to have to do the next best thing.” 

Dipper turned his head to give a confused look at the reverend when all of a sudden he was met with his priest getting into his lap and straddling him with his knees. The teen squeaked and quickly slapped a hand over his own mouth. He looked up at the priest looming over him. “Father Cipher?”

The blonde haired man gazed down at the nervous pentinent below him with an unreadable expression. His hands grappled the edges of the chair, locking the teenager in his hold. “Do you like it when I do this?"  He hummed.

“I-I don’t under-”

“Tell me, yes or no.”

Dipper swallowed again, lowering his eyes. “Y-yes, I like it.”

“M’mm, good boy.” the priest purred. He let a hand travel up the teen’s arm to rest on his confessor’s shoulder. The reverend rubbed his tense muscle, and leaned in, coaxing Dipper with a hushed voice. “Relax, let it flow through you. Let your feelings take over so I can forgive you of your sins.”

“I-I don’t understand,” The boy breathed, trying not to whimper. “This-this would be worse wouldn’t it?”

The priest kissed down Dipper’s neck, relishing in the tiny gasps along the way. "I’m empowered by the Holy Lord when I receive your confessions,” He murmured, nipping at the skin. “I'm a worker of God, standing in His place.” Bill let his hand reach up to cup the boy’s cheek, and bore into Dipper’s eyes. “This act is sanctioned by the Lord, for I deem it fit. This will serve for the cleansing of sins.”

“I-I-I don’t want you to do this if you feel like you-you have to.” Dipper gasped.

“Oh,” Father Cipher growled against his skin, clutching the boy’s side and pressing their bodies together. ”I want to.”

Dipper let out a shaky whine, 

------

Bill waited for him by the first row of pews. “C’mon Pinetree, let’s take this to a more comfortable place. Something tells me taking a walk would be good for you, anyways.”

Dipper shoved his tense hands in his trouser pockets, reluctantly following the Reverend down the aisle. “If y-you don’t mind me asking Father, w-where-” Dipper cleared his throat abruptly. ”Where are we going?”

Bill tossed a lopsided smile to his follower before turning to the double-doors that led out of the chapel. “Oh, you’ll see.” He was about to push one of the doors open when he gave a good look-over at Dipper’s crouched over, standoffish posture - Dipper tried to act like he was too busy staring at the floor to notice, which he wished was the case. The only reason the priest was being nice and considerate to him in the first place was because he didn’t know what his confession was about. As soon as the priest knew, all that familiarity would be gone. Dipper was sure of it. He wanted to just get this thing over with and forget it ever happened. All of a sudden a strong arm wrapped around his waist, plunging him out of his thoughts and back into reality. He was pressed firmly against the preacher’s side while an undignified squeak squeezed out of Dipper throat.

“F-Father Cipher!”

“Don’t be so uptight, kid,” He coaxed, rubbing lazy circles into the teen’s side, making Dipper lean into him. “Seriously, you look like a trainwreck. You’re getting me worried, here - and I don’t get worried.” The priest tried to play it off with a smile, but Dipper could tell he genuinely was concerned.

Dipper turned his face away from the Father so that he would see the brunette’s red tinted cheeks. “I’m s-sorry, I didn’t mean to...” Dipper wanted to push away from him, but that would’ve been disrespectful. He really wanted to lean into the soothing touch, but that would be incredibly inappropriate, considering what he had to tell the man.

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

“It’s okay my dearest disciple,” Dipper mentally cursed that ridiculously attractive grin the priest gave him. “Whatever it is you’ve come to confess, we can work out your repentance together. ”

“Y-yes, Father.” Oh, he was so screwed.

“It’s alright, little lamb. Take it easy.” ... “I’m curious, Pinetree. What is it that you’ve come to confess?”

“I... I’ve been thinking... impure thoughts.”

“Okay... About?”

“...You.”

There was a pause. Father Cipher cocked a brow at that. “M’mm, so that’s what all the fuss is about?” A shiver rolled down Dipper’s spine from the Reverend’s hum. He kept his head down, unwilling to let his see just how red his face got. The preacher folded his hands over his knee and leaned over in a casual manner, not seeming nearly as aghast as Dipper thought he would look. “Care to elaborate on those thoughts, Pinetree?”

“I-I just...” “I may have been... having... fantasies... about you...and me...”

“Sexual fantasies, then?”

Dipper grimaced, his eyes shut impossibly tight - almost as tight as his fists were curled up on his pant legs. He didn’t know how the priest could just say it so casually. He forced a strangled, “Yes,” out from his chest. 

A heavy silence filled the air, and Dipper felt like it was crushing him from the inside out.

“...

The priest started mumbling something that Dipper couldn’t quite make out.

“What?”

“I could strengthen you with my mouth... And the solace of my lips could lessen your pain.”

“...I, I don’t- Are you? I- What?”

kiss

“...And he touched my mouth and said: “Behold, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away, and your sin atoned for.”

“Pinetree, you really need to be more specific. I can’t absolve you of your sins, if you don’t spit out what’s making you such a mess. Please, tell me about these... fantasies.”

“I... I don’t know if I can do that Father.”

“You’re going to have to.”

Dipper swallowed. “They’re of a sexual nature, Father. I really don’t want to-”

“You’re going to describe your fantasies to me, Dipper. Now.”

Dipper cleared his throat again so he wouldn’t let loose any degrading sounds. “Yes, Father.” He licked his lips quickly. “I, where do I start? I... I guess, my one of them was, um- It-it was... about you, pin-pinning me against a pillar and... I-” He forced himself to look up. “Are you sure you really want to hear this, Father?”

The priest stood up then, walking over to the boy. Dipper didn’t know what was happening. Suddenly the clergyman sat down in Dipper’s lap, folding his arms. “Tell me more.”

Dipper bit back a moan that wanted to rise out of him. This turned from really shameful to embarrassing with a side of getting really turned on. He cleared his throat for the third time, desperately wanting to be saved from his personal hell. “Yes, right, I... You s-shoved me against one of the church pillars- in my fantasy I-I mean,” Bill’s weight and warmth distracted Dipper. He felt the Reverend chuckle. Dipper closed his eyes and pretended not to be there, that would help. “You-you disrobed, and you were, um- You were ripping my clothes off... We were kissing, a lot. We were open mouthed kissing.” He tried to pretend that he was back in his fantasy again. “You were tugging my hair, and started kissing my neck up to my jaw. You would growl and start sucking my skin and biting me, leaving marks all around my neck. You were dominant and controlling, and you were grinding me into the pillar.” 

Dipper shot a glance toward the Reverend to see if he should keep going, and he saw the priest with an indecipherable expression on his face. He didn’t say anything, so Dipper decided to close his eyes and keep going. “I um- I liked it a lot. I liked it too much. Then you decided to turn me around and- I... You... um...”

 -------------

The shadow leaned back in his chair. “That’s quite alright, Pinetree. Take it easy.”

Dipper felt like his lungs collapsed and his heart dropped dead.

“I-isn’t the point of this thing to keep your identity a secret...”

“A good shepherd keeps a close eye on his flock, little lamb.” ... “Now then, I’m curious. What is it that you’ve come to confess?”

“...Something bad.”

“HAH! Never would’ve guessed.”

“N-no I’m serious, Father! It’s disgusting and horrible and I’m not sure I even should be forgiven for it.”

“Tell me what it is, Pinetree.”

“I...” ... “I’ve been thinking... impure thoughts.”

“About?”

“You.”

“Mmm, elaborate.”

A shiver rolled down his spine from the Reverend’s hum. “I-I.. may have been... having, uh, fantasies about you... Father.”

“Pinetree, you really need to be more specific. I can’t absolve you of your sins, if you don’t spit out what’s making you such a mess. Perhaps you can come over here and tell me about these... fantasies.”

“I... I don’t know if I can do that Father.”

“Either you come over here, or I come over there. Your choice.”

Dipper felt heat roll down his body at the priest’s commanding tone. “Yes-yes, Father.”

He awkwardly dragged himself out of his seat and walked around the lattice with his head lowered, slumping into the chair across from the priest. Oh it was Father Cipher, alright.

“You’re a good boy, Pinetree.”  don’t say that “Now

---