#gay priests hours

[inhumanetrash]

It’s pride month babeyy

So hers mlm Anderson having a gay panic moment

[mikonez]

no one look at me I had a difficult day alright

[isawthismeme]

[4seasonsofart]

Sin For Me

(Priest Canute x Vampire Thorfinn)

Suggestive

The holy angels sing on high from the heavens as the demons of the night awake to prowel. The moonlight illuminates the ever-present and graceful Mary, praying from her place on the stained glass window. The church peacefully rests after a long day of entertaining the congregation and saving lives for the Lord. A lone priest sits in one of the pews with his hands clasped together so tightly that they turn a fine shade of red. A rosary weaves in between each of his fingers as he mutters the Lord's prayer both out loud and within his mind.

A ghostly shiver runs down his spine as two frigid fingers run along the edge of his neck. He shoots up from his kneeling position as his ocean-blue eyes fly open. He runs a hand through his sandy blonde hairs as his other still clutches the rosary tightly. His eyes are shaken, but he is strong in the faith of his God.

"You have been stalking me for months, you beast of the night! Show yourself in the name of the Lord, my God!" He shouts sternly as the internal temperature of the church drops to below freezing.

A deathly metallic breath fans over Canute's pale neck as a calloused hand slides down around his waist. "What's the fun in giving myself away so soon?" A demonic giggle escapes the beast's mouth as he disappears within the depths of the church's shadows. Canute is left with a slight tint on his cheeks and goosebumps all along his body.

"I command you to answer me! In the name of God the Father!" Canute states this once again as he battles to restrain his own inante humane urges. His heart rate increases tenfold as he tries to keep the devil's control over his mind at bay.

A satanic cackle echoes across the cathedral as the cross of God bleeds out an obsidian ooze that eats away at the sacred grounds surrounding them. "I fell from heaven a long time ago, little priestess. Once an angel, now a sexy vampire. I was never cut out to hang out with those bores anyway." The guttural voice purrs out in a sensual tone. "News flash, holy beings, sucking God's dick is gay, even if it is God." It? They? She? He? Xe? Rests at the edge of the shadows, only its daunting fangs shining through the dreary twilight. 

Canute trembles with anger as he is about to retort to the strange being; it cuts him off and continues its rant. "I thought God hated queers, yet there are so many of them up in heaven. The angels just keep sucking his dick non-stop." It growls out savagely. It calms and returns to its hellish cackles. "Newsflash, your big boy doesn't run the show anymore."

Canute is at his edge now as his fists curl and he shouts with the animosity of a thousand enemy soldiers. "How dare you speak about the Lord in such a derogatory manner! You, faithless beast cast from heaven, what do you mean that God doesn't run the show anymore?" His body shakes with such ferocity that the rosary drops from his hand so foolishly. He reaches to grab it swiftly, but it is too late.

The monstrous being emerges from the depths of the church as he places one of his platform boots over the rosary. He looks up at Canute with blazing hazel eyes and tempting white fangs. He licks his fangs like a predator would when staring at its prey. He wears his long golden locks in a high ponytail, as his body is only sclantily clad in a black satin dress. He leans towards the preist's ear with malicious intent.

"It's no fun if I tell you the truth." He crushes the rosary under his heel as the beads roll under the pews and in the onyx, acidic substance that coats almost everything around them. "You are aware of the inherent eroticism of having a vampire so close to you, priestess." He murmurs softly as his fangs gently graze Canute's ear, and a drop of blood falls onto Thorfinn's tongue.

A pleased moan escapes Thorfinn's blood-tinted lips. "Oh my, you taste more divine than nectar from the heavens." He groans as a twisted smirk appears on his features.

Canute's eyes dilate as he is paralyzed by the beast's sudden appearance. "You are a vampire! A devil of the night!" He screeches as he frantically moves away from the vampire, whoever it is. He takes his calculated steps away swiftly as Thorfinn watches him with a yearning for his sweet ambrosia blood.

"Leaving so soon, my love?" Thorfinn calls out in a teasing and almost sad tone. He walks towards the priest with a deliberately slow walk. Each step is as purposeful and calculated as Canute.

He speaks desperately in a tongue that only a priest is able to speak. He calls for the Lord, for the angels, for anything holy to save him. "Sweetheart, I would rip every wing off of every angel for you. Pluck every eye out so only I am able to gaze upon your heavenly beauty." Thorfinn mutters in an agitated and lovesick manner. "No one... is going to save you." His eyes are mad. Demonic. Evil. Deranged.

Thorfinn leaps onto Canute with a pleased hiss as he goes for his exposed neck. He looks like a demonic entity from an olden Christian painting. His hazel eyes transformed into something much more malicious and ruby-colored. His fangs extend out further, as if impatient for the blood to reach their aching surface.

Canute grabs a Bible from off the edge of the nearest pew as he smacks Thorfinn with it hurriedly. The vampiric entity cries out in both pain and pleasure as he looks at Canute with an eager expression. His flesh slowly burns off from the interaction with the highly holy object. That same vile ooze slowly creeps across Thorfinn's injuries and begins healing them.

Canute's eyes search for anything to be used against Thorfinn in this time of need. "Beast, give me your name!" He shouts as he shoves his arm under the alter to grab the crucifix pendant from his broken rosary. He is panting and sweating heavily despite the temperatures that have only decreased since the satanic beast of night first appeared.

Thorfinn stumbles while the transformation process of his healing finishes. His midnight satin dress has fallen from her shoulders and hangs around his chest, barely covering it. He stares at Canute with wide, unhinged, ruby-red eyes. "Thorfinn. Thorfinn is my name. I want to hear you scream it while I defile you in front of your God."

Canute scrambles up from the floor and holds the small crucifix in his hand. "Thorfinn, I command you in the name of God to leave this holy place! You belong here, not!"

Thorfinn looks at him with an enraged expression as the black ooze seeps from the walls of the great and holy chapel. He barks out a strangled laugh as he doubles over and spits out a glob of white blood. "I broke the seal of holiness of his church with my own powers! Hurt me by touching me, sweetheart. These grounds are no longer holy." He stalks towards Canute again as a thin trail of that white, milky blood escapes his mouth.

His body, once clad in something, is dissolved by the seemingly sentient obsidian liquid. Half of his bare body is encased in it as he reaches out towards Canute with a zombie-like urge to feed on him. His bloodlust is so strong that not even the holiest man on earth could touch him without being consumed by it as well.

Canutes leg is caught in the goo as he tackles the vampiric man and ends up pinning him to the floor. He let out a low and anxious growl, like an animal trapped in a corner. He pants as the goo sends a warmth through his body that counteracts with the icicles slowly growing from the ceiling of the cathedral. He feels like he is burning alive and freezing to death at the same time. His soul feels like it is being ripped apart and repaired. He will not fall to this beast.

Canute still holds the small crucifx in his hand as Thorfinn grins at him lovingly. "What if you allowed yourself to be seduced by a handsome vampire, little priestess?" Thorfinn purrs out haughtily as he presses his bare body against Canute. He hisses out in pain as the priest rests his cross right along his neckline which creates a deep violet bruise with a black charring.

"Do not tempt me you night devil." Canute states through gritted teeth as his pale complexion flushes and he holds back a low whimper. The liquid slowly retreats from Thorfinn's body but keeps them together on the floor of the cathedral.

"Allow me to give you my body and blood, after I take yours." Thorfinn whispers in a sultry tone as his hand cusps Canute's chin. Thorfinn trails his elegant fingers along the edge of Canute's stubble. Canute drops the crucifix and it is devoured by the inky ooze. "I have stalked you for months and yearned for your blood for years." He moans out with the primal vocals of an Inncubus haunting the dreams of men.

Canute fights so fruitlessly against the bloodlust and carnal instincts that emanate from Thorfinn. Canute whimpers out softly as his cheeks flush to their deepest crimson hue. "T-Thorfinn..." He wistfully whines his name. He begs. His pleads. He doesn't know what for.

"Allow me to be the Eve to your Adam. I will take a bite from your apple, and you will be cast from a God who doesn't love you." Thorfinn begs pathetically as his back arches and his need for blood takes over his judgment. "Say your mine."

Canute pants out his words as he trails his fingers across Thorfinn's frigid collarbone. There are too many emotions. Too much of everything. His head spins with the thought of allowing Thorfinn to turn him. Becoming the devil of the night. Drinking from each other each night. The ecstasy of a vampire drinking another vampire's life essence. One word and Thorfinn will be his.

"Y-You—"

"Oh my, the dark and twisted beast Thorfinn is back for another round, eh?" A booming voice drowns out Canutes as a giddy blonde haired man appears at the entrance of the church. Thorkell the Tall and famous Vampire Hunter.

"Thorkell—" Thorfinn flashes his fangs towards the hunter, and he digs his fangs possessively into Canute's shoulder. He hisses out like the demonic beast he is. A primordial moan slips out of Canute's mouth. His eyes widen as the vampire marks him for future use. A sensation spreads between Canute's legs that is foreign to him. Is this the devil's work?

"Let go of him, you beautiful beast! Bite me instead! I love the rush that vampire fangs give me!" Thorkell shouts happily as he brandishes his engraved twin axes. The ones that have slayed thousands of Thorfinns own. The ones that almost killed him the day he turned away from heaven.

Thorfinn bares his fangs once again and places a sloppy kiss on the edge of Canute's mark. He winks towards his little priestess once more before disappearing in the next blink of Canute's eyes. Everything in the church returns to normal. The ice vanishes. The temperature returns to normal. Canute feels normal once again. Even the rosary is fixed and is sitting right in front of him. It is displeased with him, he thinks. He acted like a fool.

What happened to my self-control? What happened to all of those safety measures? Why was I almost seduced by the beast? Oh no, I'm marked.

Oh, no, no, no. Fuck.

Wait, sorry, father in heaven.

The beast has now left an impression on me. Now, he'll be able to hunt me. To stalk me easily. Now other vampires may come after me.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I apologize, Lord. Really, sorry.

I have failed you.

I will avenge my honor and kill that beast to rid myself of his disgraceful mark.

I can't spend eternity with him. Not with a handsome and seductive man like that. That's a sin! The biggest one! It'd be a betrayal of my holiness—

Thorkell runs up to Canute through the pews as he realizes that Thorfinn has disappeared. He whines out angrily as he stomps around like a toddler, deprived of his favorite toy. "No fair! I wanted to fight him! I've been looking for him for months!" Thorkell shouts in a distressed tone, unaware of how distraught and internally scarred Canute is.

When did he lose his clothes?

Canute looks down at his nude body, and he averts his gaze from it. Disgusting. Sinful. 

Thorkell continues his tantrum before promptly passing out. His baby blue eyes snap up towards the stained glass of virgin Mary. He heard something. Besides the thump of Thorkell. A shadow passing in the night.

He places himself on his knees once again as he grabs the rosary. "The demons will not consume me tonight." He mutters out uncomfortably. That same foreign sensation still sitting between his thighs.

[aesrot]

everyday I be in situations and thinking "this would've been better if [mutual] was here"

[thespoonisvictory]

btw we went to my friend’s like bible study hangout thing bc she invited us and my roommate compared god to barbie. as in he is many different things and also all of them simultaneously. so. that went well.

[incohorace]

@lalallorona TAGS LOOK

You Are Not Immune To fanart of characters who die in canon that has them alive and well, with scars from the wound that originally killed them

[cataclysmic-entity]

hey guys i’ve got to stop consuming media about sentient ai. i’m actively experiencing another sexual awakening and i need it to stop. someone schedule an intervention maybe,

[mayghosts]

Snow Angel: Squalls (3) Paige Bueckers x reader

Summary: Whay happened before Halloween (reader tweaks out)

(Toc) (last)

Warnings: religion/religous trauma, homophobia and internal homophobia, Catholicism, alcohol and improper alchohol use

AN: guys I'm so sorry for this its a bit intense but I love angst and am religiously traumatised myself soooooo…

October 29, 2022

The processional music rang out over the aged speakers in the church as the priest made his way down the center aisle. The inscence made your eyes water and the smell of the old rotting carpet consumed your senses. You stared straight ahead, squeezing your eyes shut. Waiting for the confessional.

Pushing the curtain open, you stepped into the dark box and kneeled on the thinly padded cushion.

“Bless my father for I have sinned..”

The same thing every week. You glanced up through the mesh screen at the shadowed face in the other side.

He said the same thing every time.

Pushing open the heavy wooden doors you stepped out into the cold October air. You felt your chest tighten as you looked down at the notifications from Paige.

Shoving your phone in your pocket you started the walk back to her dorm.

October 30, 2022:

You sighed at the sight of her. Long blonde hair cascading down her back, tiny shirt, big pants. You didn't even know what she was dressed up as, you didn't care. Fuck I need a drink.

You knew it was okay. It's okay to be gay and like girls. Paige liked girls and that's fine. You really had no issue with other people living their lives how they wanted to because it wasn’t you business. But you couldn't ignore the crawling feeling that chewed at your stomach when you saw a pretty girl when you saw Paige. The guilt that would slowly consume you, make you feel sick to your stomach. Worst of all you could never just admit it to yourself, you liked Paige more than a friend, and it was eating you alive.

You quickly tore your gaze away from the blonde, making you way over to Nika who was nursing a bottle of tequila. Withing the hour, the churning in your stomach had melted away, and when you looked at Paige, instead of hearing the priests voice you heard her sweet calming tone.

October 31, 2022

7 AM mass is usually reserved for old people from nursing homes and early morning commuters—and you. Sliding into a row in the back, you kneeled, letting your forehead rest against the pew in front of you. You didn’t move the whole mass.

“Forgive me father for I have sinned…”

He says the same thing every time. And when you leave, the same consuming, heavy, feeling occupies your chest. You blame the tears on the incents and walk out of the church with you head low.

—

Paiges dorm was full of people and you had been nursing a bottle of pink whitney since you got home from mass. “Paigeeeee, are you ready to go?” you giggled, stumbling into her dorm living room and wrapping your arms around her neck. “Jesus Nika what did you give her?” You could hear the concern laced in Paiges voice as she stabilized your hips and unwound your hands from her neck. You melted under her touch, god she was pretty.

You gently held onto her hands, running your fingers over her knuckles and holding them up to your face. “What did she give you? Hmm?” you looked up at her big blue eyes, laced with concern. Can you feel the sin? Can you see it written in my eyes? Do I feel dirty to her too? You giggled slightly slumping into her chest. “Nothingggg~ look I'm fine!” You attempted to sober yourself up, standing up straight, trying not to sway on your feet.

“Sure thing babe.” You felt your stomach churn at the pet name. You hummed back at her, you watched her eyes search your face before she gave up and turned back to her conversation with Aaliyah.

—

You stumbled out of the bar. This is bad, so so bad. You knew you were beyond drunk. Messy. The only good thing about this situation was Paige, gently guiding you into the back of an uber and closing the door behind you both.

She had never looked prettier. Ever. “I like your hair.” She grinned at you “Thanks, I do too.” “its very pretty” you reached up, running your fingers through her hair. “Whats it like…?” your sentence faded our as you glanced out the window, your hand still fiddling with her hair. “Hmm?” She looked back at you. You dropped her hair looking back into her eyes. You felt like you were being swallowed. The uber pulled into your parking lot before you could finish your sentence.

“Come on, lets go.” Paiges voice was gentle, coaxing you out of the backseat, looping an arm around you and guiding you in through the door. You tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as she leaned in a bit to put the key in the door. “Paige.”

“Yea? What is it?”

“I love you” she smilled at you and you felt your vision blur. “Awwe I love you too, don't cry!” You desperately palmed at the tears rolling down your cheeks. She gently placed you on the bathroom counter. “Whats wrong?” grabbing a cotton pad she began scrubbing at the makeup on your face. You sniffled and shook your head.

“C’mon you can tell me anything. Whats up?” she stopped her gentle scrubbing to crouch to your level. “I’m so scared, Paige you're killing me.” you could feel the tears burning in your eyes, yor chest felt tight as you gripped her hands. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling her straighten up infront of you. She paused for a moment, unsure about whether or not to dissect this. “Lets go to bed, okay. I know you're probably tired.” You could feel her gently guide you off the counter, your eyes still squeezed shut.

“Maybe walking would be a bit easier if you opened your eyes?” you shook your head. “I'm not supposed to see you anymore.” You stumbled into her back as paused again, obviously confused. “I can’t go to Heaven anymore Paige this is all I have now.”

The silence was heavy, the only sound coming from the silent crys you let out. She kept moving slowly through your messy room. You yanked on her hand, pulling her to face you. “Its your fault! Why don't you care!” she gently guided you to sit on the edge of the bed. In the dark light you could make out the tears waiting in her eyes. You really ruined it this time. You pushed at her shoulders, repetitively hitting her with weak jabs and punches. “You’re ruining me Paige! You're ruining me! I don't stand a chance I- how do you live with…it?!” You both knew what you meant. You had done this before, a long time ago.

Tears streamed down your face, dripping into your lap. Paige was silent as she moved to take your shoes off and pull the cover up. “Sleep on your side, don't roll over.” Her voice was flat, monotone, but you could see the hurt still in her eyes. As she stood up to walk to the door you grabbed at her arm. “No, no, no please Paige don't leave me! Please I'm sorry, I love you, please. I really do, I'll live with it, ill live with it for you. Just for you you're all I need I-” You watched her cry, her back turned to you. Broad shoulders shaking as she rubbed her eyes. Silently she left the room, the door softly clicking behind her.

In the darkness of the room, you swore you could smell the old carpet and the inscense.

November 15, 2022

As you walked out of the church, head still pounding from last night, you glanced down at your screen to a text from an unknown number.

"Hey! I don't know if you remeber me, but my name is Maggie we met last night! If you don't remeber we talked a bit last night and I helped you get home."

another text came through as you stared at the screen.

"Anyways, I just wanted to make sure you were okay and see if you wanted to get coffee or something today?"

You unlocked your phone and opened the chat, responding immediately.

"Yea sure! what are you doing for lunch?"

(see how our dialoge changes colors 😗😗😗)

TAGLIST: @smiths-fan--13 @yannasuniverse @stydiaownsmyheart @hellokittyfeenie @justareadernotawriter1

[sallys-fanart]

Me at 9am: the internet has stolen my ability to focus. I can only do my job in half hour bursts.

Me at 5pm: *spends 6 hours straight drawing a ruined cave harbour from a gay priest x demon novel, and forgets to eat*

[aziraphales-library]

Hello, I’m looking for fics where Aziraphale has religious trauma specifically around sex. I wanna see him and Crowley working through it to have a healthy sexual relationship. Preferably on the shorter side like 20k ish or less but not super picky about that part. Thanks!

Hi. Here are some fics in which Aziraphale has religious trauma and explores sex with Crowley. Most of them are on the longer side, sorry...

Snake Lessons by chamyl (E)

“That’s the point, Crowley!” Aziraphale snapped. “I’ve never done this before. I couldn’t. They kept track of what we did with our corporations, and I’m sure Hell doesn’t care, but Heaven was very much clear that angels are not supposed to indulge in sex.” Crowley didn’t know how to respond to that. He tried to start several sentences at once, producing an array of incoherent sounds that made no sense at all. When he finally regained control over his tongue, he asked, “Not once? In six thousand years?”

in your own time by ineffabildaddy (E)

Aziraphale and Crowley grew up together as next-door neighbours on Hogback Lane, classmates at the local Catholic school, and inseparable best friends. By the age of eighteen, both were hopelessly in love with the other, despite the knowledge that they were doomed to live apart, as Crowley aimed to pursue university study in London and Aziraphale committed himself to remaining in Tadfield, dedicating his life to the Church. After almost twenty years spent away from his hometown, renowned botanist Crowley decides to come and visit Tadfield again at a moment's notice; the purpose of his visit is to speak at a Careers Day for the school he and Aziraphale, now a beloved priest and a frequent helper at the school, attended. The twenty-four hours that follow will change both of their lives for ever.

Night and Day by wyrmy (E)

Aziraphale Engel, black sheep of his strictly religious family, lives a quiet and monkish existence in the middle of London, trying to avoid the many temptations of the flesh and do his bit for the church that his father founded. But his quiet, untroubled, and unhappily narrow existence is about to come to an end, and he will be faced with the choice to give up even more of who he is or to survive in the real world.

Ink Stained Bleeding Hearts by WillowTea (E)

Ready for a fresh start, Anthony J. Crowley opens shop across the road from a lovely tattooist, Aziraphale Fell. After everything he's been through, Crowley is not ready to fall head over heels for Aziraphale, but he can't stop himself. The two navigate their new friendship and budding romance while addressing past hurts.

Out of Suffering Into Love by Slow_Burn_Sally (E)

Aziraphale is a sexually repressed man who grew up in a religious household. Crowley is an artist with a sordid past. Both of them are afraid to love and be loved.

Hired Heart by GayDemonicDisaster (E)

As a result of his sheltered upbringing, Aziraphale made it to 50 without exploring his sexuality or coming out. After 50, all that changed - he's gay, he's out, and wants to find love. He also wants to have sex. He's a tad nervous about that. His friend Agnes suggests he consult a professional and get some no-strings practice and advice, and build some confidence. And her friend Tracy runs an agency… Crowley has quite the breadth of sexual experience: he’s a high class escort. He’s been in his line of work for a long time, though in this industry, that’s not exactly an advantage. He likes his work, but the more he’s reminded that he’s not as young as he once was, the more he contemplates his exit strategy. When his bookings manager and friend Tracy gives him a new, nervous client, Crowley finds him unexpectedly captivating. In fact, Crowley can’t seem to get him out of his head. A Smitten Crowley is also a very silly Crowley, so prepare for giggles and fluff along with your love story and smut... This fic is sex worker positive, disability positive, & a variety of genders and sexual preferences are referred to in back story.

- Mod D

[inhumanetrash]

Doodle of the sillies

[anonymous-dentist]

Or: Once upon a time, a man turned himself into a demon for the sake of his husband's soul. It's been a long time since then.

-

Demons don't really need to sleep, but Roier likes to do it, anyway. It's relaxing, and it reminds him of better times back when he was human and his husband wasn't... well.

Well.

Jaiden doesn't get it, but that's because she's never known what dreams are. Because demons don't sleep and, unlike Roier, she was born a demon. Her and Bobby both were, leaving Roier as the odd one out.

...That's fine! Their loss! Because sleep? Great. Dreams? Even better.

Because, in Roier's dreams, he sees him.

-

(They're in bed, because that was Roier's favorite place to be. He's on his back with his husband laying next to him tracing patterns into his shirt with one finger. Rain patters on the ceiling, and some leaks through into the kitchen and lands in a pot placed conspicuously in the middle of the floor. Their blankets are warm, and so are their hearts.)

-

Roier has been married for almost 500 years. His husband has been dead for 499 of those years, give or take a few months.

They were never legally married; that just wasn't something you did back then. Didn't matter, though, because they wouldn't have been able to afford a wedding even if they could get married.

They were farmers- well, Roier was a farmer. His husband just liked sitting and watching Roier work shirtless in the fields. He'd sit with a pitcher of water waiting by his side should Roier need it, and he'd watch shamelessly for hours at a time, and he was horrible.

And now he's dead.

-

But, see, the first thing Roier asked when arriving in Hell was whether or not the Devil was cool with gay marriage.

"Uh," said Jaiden- and this was their first real conversation post-demoning, okay? So she obviously wasn't as cool as she is now. "Maybe? I don't know. I'd have to ask?"

"Could you?" Roier had asked, freshly deceased and still bleeding from the temples where his horns had just finished growing in. "I'm expecting my husband."

"Right," Jaiden tensely replied. "Your husband."

"Yeah," Roier said, and he tried saying his husband's name, but it just. Wouldn't... what was it again?

-

But that's fine, being a demon is a pretty sweet gig. All Roier has to do is go up to the Mortal Realm and do a few jobs for a few witches, corrupt a few souls. In return, he gets badass magical abilities and immortality.

More importantly, he gets his husband's soul. As soon as he reincarnates back in the Mortal Realm, and as soon as he dies again, he goes to Hell with all of the memories from his previous life with Roier intact, and they finally get their happily ever after.

It's what he would've wanted. Hell might sound terrible, but it's no worse than the Mortal Realm, and its public transportation is actually better, somehow. The busses all run on time, and the subway is free.

More importantly, Roier's husband was the one collecting all those books on summoning demons and making deals with demons and communing with the Devil. Roier just... completed his work for him.

It's the least he could've done, and it was his last chance at seeing him again.

-

Fuck, but what was his name?

-

(They're in the fields, because that was Roier's husband's favorite place to be. Roier is shirtless and bent over a row of seeds that are going to grow up to be corn in a few months, and his husband is on the ground under the apple tree watching him shamelessly. It's sunny out, and there's the smell of smoke in the air.)

-

It's been 500 years since Roier's husband died, and Roier has spent that time trying to remember the name of his husband's killer.

Because, once upon a time, there was a farmer, and there was a witch. Ah, but witches were illegal, you see. They communed with the Devil, and they brought chaos into a world of order.

All Roier remembers is that the person who tied his husband to that pole was in all-white. Not a priest, just someone boring.

That same person was the one who lit the straw at Roier's husband's feet on fire. And they smiled doing so even as Roier dove towards the flames as if he could put them out with his bare hands.

It didn't work. Big surprise there.

-

"So the Devil's fine with you two getting married," Jaiden said after a few days of dealing with demonic bureaucracy, "but I have some bad news for you."

Roier, for the first time since Jaiden slit his throat and converted him, felt fear.

"What is it?" he asked.

She let out a breath, slow, and said, eventually, "Your husband's soul isn't here. He isn't in Heaven, either. Or in any of the other gods' realms."

Roier blinked. "What."

It was not a question.

She threw up her hands. "I don't know! It's like he just... disappeared!"

"Is that why I can't remember his name?" Roier asked. "His soul is fucking gone?"

His hands shook. Jaiden reached out and took them.

"We'll find him," she promised, kind despite her whole 'Is A Demon' thing. "Even if it takes five hundred years."

"Yeah, well, it won't," he scoffed. "I'm going to find him. He promised me a wedding."

-

Souls don't just die. They go to someplace that Roier has only ever heard of: Purgatory.

Once in Purgatory, souls get judged by the Eye of Justice. He asks them questions about their life, and they have to answer truthfully, or he'll feed them to his children.

There are a few options for what comes next.

One: they pass the Eye of Justice's judgement and are allowed to move on to whatever afterlife they believe in.

Two: they pass the Eye of Justice's judgement and are allowed to reincarnate into another life.

Three: they fail the Eye of Justice's judgement and are forcibly sent to reincarnate into the life of a bug or a blade of grass or something else boring and tortuous.

Roier got to skip out on Purgatory entirely because he took the direct line to Hell. But maybe, just maybe, if he had died regularly, he could have seen his husband in Purgatory, and they could have reincarnated together.

...Ugh. Hindsight is a bitch.

-

(Roier is visiting his grandfather when the church bells ring.

"A witch!" he hears a woman scream, and his stomach fell right into his shoes.)

-

It's been 500 years, and Roier has gotten a bit of a reputation among modern witches for being one of the easier demons to work with. He'll help with their problems in exchange for information on a certain lost soul: if they hear from his husband's soul, they summon Roier. Or he'll help in exchange for some book recommendations for his son; Hell has many things, but it does not have a public library.

He isn't a particularly strong demon despite what his only angel friend, Etoiles, might say. Etoiles is just a silly little guy, don't listen to him!

-

(He never even got to say goodbye. They locked eyes as the flames rose, and Roier screamed his name one last time, and he hasn't been able to feel anything since.)

-

Jaiden was the first demon that Roier had ever met.

He was on the floor surrounded by the ashes that used to be his home. His husband's books were in charred tatters around him, but one managed to survive the fire. It was almost supernatural, but, like, yeah. Demon book, of course it was fireproof.

He was bleeding. He had offered his blood, and his soul, to the demon in exchange for his husband's life back.

She sat on the floor with him.

"I can't do that," she gently told him. "Demons can do a lot of things, but we can't perform miracles."

Roier's throat burned: smoke inhalation and grief.

"Oh," he said, small-sounding.

"But I can get his soul to Hell," she offered. "In exchange... you have to go to Hell."

His answer was immediate: "Yes."

She blinked. "I wasn't finished?"

"The answer is still 'Yes'. As long as I'm with him again, I don't care what happens to me."

"You'll have to turn your life over to Satan. You can't just go to Hell. That isn't how it works."

Roier shrugged. "That's fine."

Jaiden gawked for a moment before nodding and standing and extending her hand.

He took it.

And then he died.

-

But it's been 500 fucking years, and now Roier is being summoned by another witch for another deal. He'll probably have to help supply additional magic for some big important spell, that's basically all he's used for these days. He's more than a battery, thanks! He's a demon, he should be out, like, stealing souls and shit.

He goes, anyway, because he has to. If he doesn't, his contract is void, and he won't get to see his husband because he himself will be sent to Purgatory to be judged and, really, he does not want to deal with that. (The Eye of Judgement is fucking creepy, okay?)

There's the familiar pull at Roier's core, and the familiar blinding burst of light as he's yanked into the Mortal Realm, and the familiar smell of brimstone and evil that follows him wherever he goes outside of Hell.

The room is filled with blood red smoke as he appears- his trademark.

(The most important thing to a demon these days isn't evil, it's marketability.)

The witch in front of him, nothing more than a shadow hidden behind the smoke, coughs and wheezes and fans their hand in front of their face.

They're kneeled on the ground in front of a pentagram drawn in... what the fuck is this, strawberry jam?

Roier crouches and sticks a finger into one of the circle's markings. Careful not to break the circle, he pulls his finger out and licks the red stuff on it.

Shocked, he looks at the witch, and he asks, "Dude, what the fuck? Is this blood?"

What happened to chalk!?

The witch coughs at him indignantly. "I needed to make sure I got someone powerful."

Roier rolls his eyes and plops fully onto the ground, criss-cross applesauce. He wipes his blood-covered fingertip on his jeans. Newbies...

"Well, you got me," he says, humble to the core. (He may be a super evil demon now, but he isn't a dick.) "So... what's up? What do you need?"

The smoke in the room slowly starts dissipating, revealing the witch to be a man in what have to be the previous day's clothes. His head is still ducked, and his face is still hidden in his elbow as he coughs, but Roier could almost call him objectively handsome. Shame Roier's married, this guy would be fun to mess around with.

"I need to- fuck-"

The witch coughs one last time before finally managing to get a lungful of clean air. He raises his head, and Roier finally gets a look at his face, and-

"I need your help," the witch says, voice rough and rugged and absolutely heartbreaking. "I need to kill someone, and I need your help to do it."

"Okay," Roier agrees. He doesn't have a choice, being a summoned demon and all, but he doesn't think he could turn this witch down at all, because...

-

("Cellbit!" Roier screams.

He can see his face in his husband's glassy eyes, and then he sees nothing but the flames as they rise over Cellbit's head and drown him whole.)

-

The man with his husband's face frowns, suspicious.

"What," he asks, "just like that?"

Roier grins, fangs and all. "Just like that."

After all, he doesn't think he'll need any payment for this one.

He's finally found what he's been looking for.

[youcouldmakealife]

Outtake: Robbie, Saul, confessional

This didn't fit in with SAIT, because it cannot be Robbie&Saul Hour 24/7 (though why not???) but I kept at this scene even after I cut the beginnings of it. So!

Takes place right around part 43 of still always in tandem.

“Could I get all Catholic on you for a second?” Robbie says. “Feel free to say no.”

Saul smiles. “If you’d like,” he says.

“You’re not Catholic, are you,” Robbie says.

“No,” Saul says.

“Do you know how confession works?” Robbie asks.

“Everything I know has been gathered from television and film,” Saul says. “Which I imagine isn’t particularly accurate.”

“I mean, it’s not so different,” Robbie says with a shrug. “Some places have modernized, but if your church is old school, you get the stuffy box you see in all the movies.”

Robbie got the stuffy box. Could be worse, though — some of them, you have to sit right across from the priest, look him in the eye as you recite your sins. Give Robbie the confessional any day.

“So you sit in a box,” Robbie says. “and you tell a dude all your secrets, and then they give you homework to do.”

Saul smiles.

“I know,” Robbie says. “Sounds familiar, huh?”

“A little,” Saul says.

“But you know what happens after you do your homework?” Robbie asks. “You perform your acts of contrition, say all your Hail Marys and Our Fathers?”

“Tell me,” Saul says, even though TV and movies probably told him at least that much.

“Poof,” Robbie says. “You’re absolved of your sins. Just like that. As far as God’s concerned, it’s like you never sinned at all.”

“And how do you feel about that?” Saul asks, even though how Robbie felt about that probably leaked through loud and clear.

“Better that than the religions that tell you that you could live a perfect life and still go to hell just because you live somewhere too remote for their missionaries, I guess,” Robbie says. “But me and the Vatican have a bit of a different opinion on what’s a sin, you know? Fuck knows I’m not walking into my ma’s church like, ‘hi, me again, still gay as ever, lay them Hail Marys on me’. Wouldn’t even work, if I’m not repentant about it, and I’m not.”

“I always thought that it was all kind of a cop out,” Robbie continues. “Like, okay, you can do whatever bad shit you want, and you know you can go get rid of all of it, wipe the slate clean on Sunday. Kill a dude on Saturday and you and God are good on Monday morning because you recited some magic words. What’s the point of telling people not to sin if they can just get absolved right after they do? Okay, I cheat on my math test, I tell Father Brian about it, and he tells me to do ten Hail Marys, and I get an A. Pretty good deal all around, isn’t it?”

“I sense a ‘but’,” Saul says.

“I think I missed the point, a bit,” Robbie says.

“What point is that?” Saul asks.

“The part where the whole deal only works if you actually regret it,” Robbie says. “Like, I kind of did — even as a teenager I knew confessing about a crush on my science partner wasn’t going to do shit, and not just because Father Brian definitely knew it was me in there, and I sure as shit didn’t trust him not to tell my father, supposed seal of confession or not. And even if I did, I’d just be back there next week, confessing the exact same thing, and yeah, I couldn’t help it, but I wasn’t ashamed of it either, you know?”

“But I was sort of — if I can’t help it, how’s it supposed to be a sin, you know? Why’s God setting people up to fail like that?” Robbie asks.

Saul’s quiet.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, wouldn’t exactly be God’s first rodeo, would it?” Robbie says.

Saul smiles. "No," he says, then, “Why are you telling me about the confessional?”

Robbie shrugs. “Just something I was thinking about, I guess.”

“Do you have something to confess?” Saul asks.

“I mean, not really,” Robbie says. “At least no more than the usual shit.”

“Something you feel guilty about?” Saul asks.

Robbie looks down at his hands, rubbing a split knuckle, and thinks. “No more than the usual shit,” he repeats, and it rings a little false, but not false enough to make him feel like Saul struck true.

Saul’s quiet for a moment. “Are you the one in the confessional?”

“What?” Robbie scoffs. “As opposed to you?”

“I don’t mean here in this room,” Saul says. “Or even the confessional itself, necessarily.”

Robbie snorts. “What, the confessional’s a metaphor?”

“You’re the one who brought it up,” Saul says gently.

“I don’t know,” Robbie says, pressing his fingers together. “Just something I’ve been thinking about lately.”

“Since Cleveland?” Saul asks, and Robbie looks up from his hands.

“When was the last time you went to confession, Robbie?” Saul asks.

“High school,” Robbie says. “I haven’t since high school. I tell you that I went to a Catholic boy’s school? Shit’s practically part of the curriculum. Wouldn’t have even been surprised they had graded me on my sins too.”

“Since high school,” Saul echoes, and Robbie can practically hear the rest filled in, even without Saul saying it — you haven’t been in a confessional since high school, but you just happen to be thinking about it, half a lifetime later, as you get to round one-hundred and whatever of the unforgivable.

“A bit on the nose as far as metaphors go,” Robbie tells his hands, and when he looks up at Saul he’s smiling even more gently than before, so gently Robbie kind of hates him for it.

[five-rivers]

When I was a kid - somewhere in the middle of elementary school - the churches in my town all got together to do one big, elaborate bible camp about the old testament. It wasn't a sleepaway camp. If I remember correctly, it was split between our church's backyard and the yard of the next door Methodist church.

That was common, back then. That the churches in our town would get together to do things like that. Community meals, bible education, toy drives, charity work. Kids were sent to half a dozen different denominations for bible camp over the summer, it seemed, sometimes. I know I went to at least my own church, the Baptist church, and the Lutheran church.

But to get back to the point, it was elaborate. There were tents. All of us children were split up into groups named after the tribes of Israel, to rotate through the different activities on different days. We had people come in to talk about how people lived back in those days, and in that area. Things about rope making, perfume, honey and dates, what the bible was referring to when it said this or that, what the tribes were known for. There were some rabbis there, too, and they must have come from the city, at least half an hour away, because there aren't any synagogues in our town. They talked about the Hebrew alphabet and differences between the bible and the Torah, and what kosher meant, exactly.

I stopped going to church about five years ago, when the new priest started talking about how the Methodists, the gays, and people who didn't go to church regularly were all going to hell. He's gone now, too, replaced by someone else, because our parish can't afford to keep a priest. My mother says that this newest priest is different, but I haven't decided if I can believe it or not. The Methodist church isn't there anymore. It's been replaced by a different church entirely.

Sometimes, I wonder where it all went. If it existed at all. If it's still there, and I'm just not seeing it.

[liesmyth]

Good morning,

my sister and I as queerish catholicish people* have been fascinated with the the new pope drama.

Anyways we were wondering about context.

When the pope was asking the vatican to "tone down the faggotry" was he

Deliberatly condemning homosexuls in the vatican?

Asking vatican employees to stop gay sex while at work.

Asking vatican employees to stop behaving in a stereotypically gay way at work?

Asking vatican employees to stop being so extra? This is pope Francis after all. He's not really a big luxury guy.....and maybe he finds the drag race aesthetic to be at odds with votes of poverty. (The documentary "Paris is burning" might correct that misunderstanding...but I can see how a general apeal to tone down extragance combined with a new slang phrase in his second language could cause this.

I do understand that whatever the context for the quote was, pope Francis used the wrong term.

But Im really curious what he was trying to accomplish.

Also how do I pronounce your new Url as I relay this information to my family?

*I am a practicing queer raised catholic and she a practicing catholic at a queer independent catholic** church

**yes its existence shocked me to, but they have like 18 members and a local epicable let's them met in thier space in off hours. And they take nor give any money to the vactican and sing the old mass.

Ok your sister's queer independent catholic church sounds honestly cool af. Hope they're having fun in there.

Context: the Pope was telling (Italian) bishops that the Church should discourage gay men from joining, and "there's too much homosexuality (faggotry) in seminaries already." We don't know the context as this was leaked, but if I HAD to make a guess I would say_ 1) This is undoubtedly a homophobic statement 2) this is coming from a guy who feels strongly that clergy should respect their votes of chastity, which a lot of priests straight-up ignore.

So, like. Francis HAS gone on record saying that gay men are likely to falter in their vocations or whatever. But if I had to speculate, and I don't believe I'm being overly charitable here, I think the point of his speech was, "By the way, priests should not fuck, remember that? And maybe men who are into men are more likely to fuck their colleagues and keep quiet about it, we all know it happens way too much."

But yeah tldr: he WAS "deliberately condemning homosexuals" in a "gay people are more likely than straight people to give in to the temptations of the flesh" kinda way. Which IS homophobic but not outrageously so, and I think very much in line with his overall line re: queer people in the Church, kind of when he said "Blessings to same-sex couples are fine! It's not the same thing as a real marriage tho."

I think it was a remark that wouldn't have raised any eyebrows among its intended audience if he hadn't used that word, which gave people who don't like him a lot of ammo to discredit him and motivation to leak the story. That's also why I think there's no way he was aware of the full implications of the word — would this pope say slurs in private? idk. maybe. I don't know him. Would he say slurs in front of an audience of bishops when half the Vatican can't stand him because they think he's a dangerous third-world outsider and a hardass? No fucking way.

At least that's my take. I'm gonna @monstrousgourmandizingcats who may have better insight.

this is how you pronounce it!