*this is not to shame anybody. if you used to use chatgpt in the past but have stopped, kudos to you, this post still includes you. if you are still using chatgpt, then I guess I can’t stop you — but if you ever decide to stop using it in the future, you may then claim your star too
Yknow, after seeing Project Hail Mary I was fully expecting this website to be all over shipping Grace and Rocky, so to instead find that everyone has agreed that Grace is an aroace icon and he and Rocky are platonic soulmates is a real fun change of pace that is still oh so very tumblr
On the flipside there's the group of fans who are shipping him with Simon from Iron Lung, called the ship BloodyMary, and had them adopt Laika the space dog and call them "The Patron Saints of One-Way Trips" which is so unbelievably tumblr you just have to smile
Hiii I had lots of fun writing this!! I hope you all enjoy it as well. Fic available under the cut!
Content: Religion, Confession, NSFW, Hands free?
The Tree was great in stature. Her limbs stretching towards dead stars. Their ghost-light penetrating the leaves, lighting the station below Her Greatness.
Humanity bored itself into Her heart, creating a place of prayer and gathering. Walls to the ceiling of ringed wood. The ceiling hanging with vines and moss. And at the altar, Simon.
Most called him Father. Others Brother, but almost none by his true name. A name that held stories not of his own. A name that carried great power, and great listening.
He stood at the pedestal, reading from a book he’s read from a million times. Looking out at faces he’s met even more.
Simon speaks “Now let us pray.” as he bows his head and clasps his hands. The crowd before him do the same as he speaks the prayer. His voice is loud, but gentle. Once the prayer ends, a group of young men in robes come forth with bread and wine.
His robes float behind him, his steps quiet against the merlot carpet that stretched across the room, running between pews and up the stairs.
“Let us now eat of The Tree, Her oxygen having been sustaining our lives. Eat of this bread, created from the wheat that grows from Her soil. Drinketh the wine, water and sugar that keeps Her vitality.”
One by one the congregation lined up before him. Some perform the sign of the cross before taking the wine-soaked bread from the spoon in his hand. Other’s kissing his hand.
A man approached, he was built smaller than him, but what he lacked in muscle he made up for in height. The boy half-kneeled, his e/c eyes meeting Simon’s deep brown ones. His lips gently pressed themselves to Simon’s knuckle. The kiss lasted longer than expected, the bridge of the other’s nose grazing against his finger. He watched as his chin hovered above the spoon. The other’s mouth wrapped around the tip, the bread melting in his mouth. The bitter taste of wine lingers on his tastebuds. Simon stares as he slowly pulled his lips away.
“Thank you Father.” he said, before walking away.
The interaction stuck with Simon for the rest of the service. Occasionally stumbling over his words, the man’s face appearing in his mind instead of The Tree during prayer.
Mass came to an end, devout worshipers filing their ways out. Some were off to classes provided by the church, while others were headed to a family meal. Simon stayed behind, as the flock dissipated from his field. He walked between the pews, picking up any objects or trash that may have been left behind. His footsteps echoed in some areas, while the carpet muffled them in others. After ensuring the entirety of the nave was clean, he toddled his way into the confession booth.
The booth was dark and quiet, no light made it inside. Instead, a pale yellow beeswax candle occupied a sconce, about the size of his hand. Along his left there was a cabinet protruding three finger widths from the wall. Inside there were matches, prayer beads adorned with a maple seedling, a dropper of anointing oil and a bottle of blessed water. The match was struck, his cramped room filling with orange light. Match hovering above the wick of the candle, the room was finally lit.
After waiting a few moments, the door to the right side of the confession booth creaked open, a light *click* of the latch inside to keep it closed. The other party’s shuffling broke the silence between the two as they adjusted themselves comfortably.
“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.”
The voice was familiar. Though, Simon had heard dozens of voices every day, and almost all of them had a familiarity. This was a particularly masculine one. The kiss.
“Confess to me, Child of Eden”
“Father… my hands have led me not to the prosperity of The Garden, but to sin. I feel plagued by impure thoughts of my fellows of Eden. Spilling my… my seed to the thoughts of their bodies.”
Simon tensed at his words.
“Confessing to masturbation, my son?”
“Yes Father…”
Simon nodded at the response. “Continue. In order to be one with the Garden, all sins must be confessed.”
The man on the right nodded. Continuing his confession.
“I have engaged in… inappropriate behavior… acts of sex despite not being approved to breed.”
“And have you impregnated a partner during these consummations?” Simon raised a brow.
“No Father… I-… I must confess… to sodomy. Sodomy with my Brothers in Eden.”
The sentence hit Simon in the chest. Intercourse with men? The sin that lived in the very back of his mind. The one thing he had always struggled to keep hidden in the depths of himself.
“Consummation with… men-?”
“Yes Father.”
Something came over him in a wave. Somebody like… him. Sweat beaded along his forehead, the cramped room felt so much hotter than a few moments ago. Ask more. Make him relive his sins. The deepest details. The way it felt, the sound-
“Father?”
“Apologies son. Please, continue. Consummation with men is something to be forgiven, with your divulgence of course.”
Simon shifted uncomfortably. It was so hot in here. Heat in his face and his stomach. a burning between his thighs. It was so tight and cramped in here.
“Yes Father, of course… I have laid my lips upon another man’s…”
hotter
“Fellatio…”
Simon felt he was being strangled. His collar felt tight and his chest was so heavy.
“I have been a sodomizer… I’ve been sodomized… Father I feel as if I have desecrated my body.”
Simon’s breath hitched, trying to gather himself in the moment, words echoing through his head.
“Surely your body has been touched by sin, done to do unspeakable things… My child, It is in these confessions you cleanse your soul of sin. Do, continue. Cleanse yourself of wrongdoing.”
His voice occasionally shook, almost desperate to hear more.
“I have… marked my fellow men with my teeth, lie in bed with them… Allowing them to- to enter me father.”
It was so hot in here, The weight in Simon’s chest grew heavier, the pit in his stomach deeper. Sweat dripped down his midriff, his core tensing. Everything was so tense. His pants were too tight, barely able to breathe. His nails, dug deep into his palms, every ounce of him resisting the relief he knows he could provide himself.
“I have… ingested the seed of another man…”
Simon gasped. It was like all the weight on his body was lifted. The sweat on his body grew colder, as his muscles relaxed finally.
“Father? Are you alright?”
Simon cleared his voice before speaking
“Just… A sound of the throat.. my son.”
He readjusted himself, the candle light revealing a wet spot on his trousers. His eyes stared wide at the dark spot on his pants, shame washing over him.
“Sixteen praises of the Tree. You must stay away from these men. Your hands guide you to do wrong, you must wash them in one of the basins here in the church. Once you do this, you will be absolved of your sins.”
