Bishop Rick @most-reverend-rick - Tumblr Blog

(ooc, do you do private threads?)

[OOC | Indeed I do - in fact, you’ve got a better chance of me responding to one of those because Tumblr RPing still somewhat eludes me, An Old.]

most-reverend-rick

"Hello, uh, s-sir," he came in nervously, already scared to death. "Father Rick instructed me to come here..." (ricknnocent)

“Ah, R-319′s young pupil, isn’t it?” The Bishop looked up from the papers he’d been studying. His office (a spacious room in the mansion adjacent to the cathedral at the heart of his diocese) was more old-fashioned than strictly necessary - bookcases lining the walls, candlelight, a decanter of something or other on one of the shelves.The desk behind which the Bishop sat was especially impressive: dark wood, the top of the desk gleaming. The Bishop himself did not look too unkindly. His half-moon glasses had slipped down his nose a little, and he shot the young priest a heartening smile. “I’ve been expecting you. Have a seat, please.“ He waved at the wooden chair opposite the desk. “Your reputation precedes you, I must say. Our dear Father speaks highly of you!”

most-reverend-rick

“You’re sorry? Sorry for committing sin upon sin or sorry that your backside is suffering the consequences? No need to answer that - I think I know!“ The Bishop wielded the strap expertly - it really was one of his favorite implements, although usually a bit too intense to bust out. Then again, this first meeting ought to be a memorable one (and judging by the sounds the priest was producing, it was). Another smack, and another - and then finally, mercifully, a pause. The Bishop stood a little closer to the priest and put a hand on his scorching hot ass. “I had high hopes for you,” he said bitterly. “Perhaps the error was my own to expect better.”

what do you think of mortys who participate in rick-like behaviors? ex: drinking, smoking, k-lax, etc? and followup, what about ricks in your religion who do said activitys?

“It goes without saying that a Morty should not be indulging in any of these vices. They are young, and their minds malleable - Mortys are much like trees in that they require careful pruning and grooming to reach their true potential. But it is a Rick’s responsibility to keep his Morty away from such influences, and considering that responsibility it should follow that a Rick keeps away from narcotics and excessive alcohol usage himself.Why, my child? Are you struggling with these tendencies?”

#Anonymous

a little morty bowed his head deeply "a-are you like, like the head rick of the head ricks?" he smiled up at him [born-angry]

“I am indeed in pastoral charge of our diocese, my son. As you well know, Ricks need guidance as much as Mortys like yourself do. I simply ensure we all fulfill our duties!”

"Hello, uh, s-sir," he came in nervously, already scared to death. "Father Rick instructed me to come here..." (ricknnocent)

“Ah, R-319′s young pupil, isn’t it?” The Bishop looked up from the papers he’d been studying. His office (a spacious room in the mansion adjacent to the cathedral at the heart of his diocese) was more old-fashioned than strictly necessary - bookcases lining the walls, candlelight, a decanter of something or other on one of the shelves.The desk behind which the Bishop sat was especially impressive: dark wood, the top of the desk gleaming. The Bishop himself did not look too unkindly. His half-moon glasses had slipped down his nose a little, and he shot the young priest a heartening smile. “I’ve been expecting you. Have a seat, please.“ He waved at the wooden chair opposite the desk. “Your reputation precedes you, I must say. Our dear Father speaks highly of you!”

most-reverend-rick

While the Bishop’s expression only soured further, inwardly he was more entertained than anything else. A spirited little thing, this one! Well, that was vastly preferable to the more languid and nonchalant Ricks in his diocese. “I’m not surprised that you can’t remember it,“ he said. “It is, after all, one of the more important precepts handed down to us - and yet it is also one of the more uncomfortable ones. It follows that you would try to forget all about it!“ He moved from behind the desk, and put a gentle hand on Z-11′s shoulder. “But I discipline my body, and bring it into subjection: lest that by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway. Stand up, my son. Evidently, you run a great risk of becoming a castaway - I shall have to bring you into subjection myself!“

ricknnocent

His heart dropped into his stomach. He knew what that meant. He was practically pissing himself.

“I, uh, I-I’m sorry!” he sputtered out before he could even catch himself. Realizing his mistake he gulped back anymore cries out and stood up obediently.

most-reverend-rick

“Let’s see if your insubordination knows some limits or if you’re a lost case entirely,“ the Bishop said, and placed one hand on the young priest’s neck and forced him down to bend over the desk. The papers still strewn over said desk, upon closer inspection, almost seemed premeditated in their subject matter: there were several copies of a tract entitled Where There’s a Will, There’s a Wayward Morty: Disciplining Your Independent Grandson, and a few order forms for various implements ranging from the mostly innocuous (”standard wooden ruler”) to the more threatening (”the Wrathful Paddle™“). “Pull up your cassock,” the Bishop instructed. “I know for a fact that the priest in charge of you has told you just which requirements a Rick of your standing is supposed to meet - I only wonder if you heeded his instructions!”

ricknnocent

He whimpered as his head was pushed forward, though he quickly adjusted himself to bending over the desk.

When instructed to pull up his robes, he did so. Father Rick never permitted him to wear pants or underwear so all he had on under it was his thigh high stockings.

Returning back to his position he clasped his hands together in prayer, actually praying that the Bishop would have mercy and not use a too harsh implement.

most-reverend-rick

The bare backside was a bit of a surprise to the Bishop, who was used to pulling down (or, as the situation sometimes demanded, up) the undergarments of recalcitrant Ricks himself. Not that this surprised showed on his face. “I see you’re already assuming the position,” he said, indicating the priest’s clasped hands. “You assume I’ll be chastising you, then?” He tut-tutted. “There’s no rush here, my son. Your inspection comes first. Come, then.” He landed one open-palmed (but not necessarily vicious) smack on the priest’s exposed behind. “Spread your cheeks. I’m hoping against hope you’re keeping up with at least part of your training!”

ricknnocent

“Oh…” he answered stupidly, certain that that was where the Bishop had been heading. Hearing this new news made his face warm up though. He wasn’t used to anyone but Father Rick seeing him so…intimately. But Father Rick had told him about this. That didn’t make it any better now that it was actually happening though.

Stepping up on his tiptoes to lift his ass and spreading his legs, he waited for the Bishop to inspect him.

most-reverend-rick

The very hand that had landed that initial swat now, businesslike, stroked the now-exposed cleft. His fingertips found the metal base (slightly warm to the touch), engraved with the number three, and the Bishop nodded. “This part of your training is not as much of a problem for you, then. I wonder why?” He sneered. “I suppose you don’t consider it a matter of discipline but one of pleasure.” He left the unfortunate priest and opened one of the various cupboards in his office, hemming and hawing and finally making his selection. “I’ll be speaking to Father Rick about this. Such a filthy boy! I’d tell you to be embarrassed but you’d probably find pleasure in that too. No, deviants like you only understand one language, and it is spoken with a tongue made of leather!” At that, the strap (for that was the implement he’d decided on) slammed down fiercely.

ricknnocent

He yelped out, his face burning now. Quickly he tried to explain himself, “N-no! I take it seriously! The plug isn’t pleasurable!”

This was a huge lie but he knew he was already in enough trouble.

most-reverend-rick

“Laziness, insubordination, deviance - and now dishonesty, too?“ Again the strap came down. “You seem to misunderstand the gravity of your situation!“ As if that was even possible with the thick leather strap slamming down again and again, turning the pink skin of Z-11′s ass a painful-looking shade of red.

most-reverend-rick

"Hello, uh, s-sir," he came in nervously, already scared to death. "Father Rick instructed me to come here..." (ricknnocent)

“Ah, R-319′s young pupil, isn’t it?” The Bishop looked up from the papers he’d been studying. His office (a spacious room in the mansion adjacent to the cathedral at the heart of his diocese) was more old-fashioned than strictly necessary - bookcases lining the walls, candlelight, a decanter of something or other on one of the shelves.The desk behind which the Bishop sat was especially impressive: dark wood, the top of the desk gleaming. The Bishop himself did not look too unkindly. His half-moon glasses had slipped down his nose a little, and he shot the young priest a heartening smile. “I’ve been expecting you. Have a seat, please.“ He waved at the wooden chair opposite the desk. “Your reputation precedes you, I must say. Our dear Father speaks highly of you!”

most-reverend-rick

While the Bishop’s expression only soured further, inwardly he was more entertained than anything else. A spirited little thing, this one! Well, that was vastly preferable to the more languid and nonchalant Ricks in his diocese. “I’m not surprised that you can’t remember it,“ he said. “It is, after all, one of the more important precepts handed down to us - and yet it is also one of the more uncomfortable ones. It follows that you would try to forget all about it!“ He moved from behind the desk, and put a gentle hand on Z-11′s shoulder. “But I discipline my body, and bring it into subjection: lest that by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway. Stand up, my son. Evidently, you run a great risk of becoming a castaway - I shall have to bring you into subjection myself!“

ricknnocent

His heart dropped into his stomach. He knew what that meant. He was practically pissing himself.

“I, uh, I-I’m sorry!” he sputtered out before he could even catch himself. Realizing his mistake he gulped back anymore cries out and stood up obediently.

most-reverend-rick

“Let’s see if your insubordination knows some limits or if you’re a lost case entirely,“ the Bishop said, and placed one hand on the young priest’s neck and forced him down to bend over the desk. The papers still strewn over said desk, upon closer inspection, almost seemed premeditated in their subject matter: there were several copies of a tract entitled Where There’s a Will, There’s a Wayward Morty: Disciplining Your Independent Grandson, and a few order forms for various implements ranging from the mostly innocuous (”standard wooden ruler”) to the more threatening (”the Wrathful Paddle™“). “Pull up your cassock,” the Bishop instructed. “I know for a fact that the priest in charge of you has told you just which requirements a Rick of your standing is supposed to meet - I only wonder if you heeded his instructions!”

ricknnocent

He whimpered as his head was pushed forward, though he quickly adjusted himself to bending over the desk.

When instructed to pull up his robes, he did so. Father Rick never permitted him to wear pants or underwear so all he had on under it was his thigh high stockings.

Returning back to his position he clasped his hands together in prayer, actually praying that the Bishop would have mercy and not use a too harsh implement.

most-reverend-rick

The bare backside was a bit of a surprise to the Bishop, who was used to pulling down (or, as the situation sometimes demanded, up) the undergarments of recalcitrant Ricks himself. Not that this surprised showed on his face. “I see you’re already assuming the position,” he said, indicating the priest’s clasped hands. “You assume I’ll be chastising you, then?” He tut-tutted. “There’s no rush here, my son. Your inspection comes first. Come, then.” He landed one open-palmed (but not necessarily vicious) smack on the priest’s exposed behind. “Spread your cheeks. I’m hoping against hope you’re keeping up with at least part of your training!”

ricknnocent

“Oh…” he answered stupidly, certain that that was where the Bishop had been heading. Hearing this new news made his face warm up though. He wasn’t used to anyone but Father Rick seeing him so…intimately. But Father Rick had told him about this. That didn’t make it any better now that it was actually happening though.

Stepping up on his tiptoes to lift his ass and spreading his legs, he waited for the Bishop to inspect him.

most-reverend-rick

The very hand that had landed that initial swat now, businesslike, stroked the now-exposed cleft. His fingertips found the metal base (slightly warm to the touch), engraved with the number three, and the Bishop nodded. “This part of your training is not as much of a problem for you, then. I wonder why?” He sneered. “I suppose you don’t consider it a matter of discipline but one of pleasure.” He left the unfortunate priest and opened one of the various cupboards in his office, hemming and hawing and finally making his selection. “I’ll be speaking to Father Rick about this. Such a filthy boy! I’d tell you to be embarrassed but you’d probably find pleasure in that too. No, deviants like you only understand one language, and it is spoken with a tongue made of leather!” At that, the strap (for that was the implement he’d decided on) slammed down fiercely.

Good day Sir.

And a blessed day to you, Father!

#fathersanchez

most-reverend-rick

"Hello, uh, s-sir," he came in nervously, already scared to death. "Father Rick instructed me to come here..." (ricknnocent)

“Ah, R-319′s young pupil, isn’t it?” The Bishop looked up from the papers he’d been studying. His office (a spacious room in the mansion adjacent to the cathedral at the heart of his diocese) was more old-fashioned than strictly necessary - bookcases lining the walls, candlelight, a decanter of something or other on one of the shelves.The desk behind which the Bishop sat was especially impressive: dark wood, the top of the desk gleaming. The Bishop himself did not look too unkindly. His half-moon glasses had slipped down his nose a little, and he shot the young priest a heartening smile. “I’ve been expecting you. Have a seat, please.“ He waved at the wooden chair opposite the desk. “Your reputation precedes you, I must say. Our dear Father speaks highly of you!”

most-reverend-rick

While the Bishop’s expression only soured further, inwardly he was more entertained than anything else. A spirited little thing, this one! Well, that was vastly preferable to the more languid and nonchalant Ricks in his diocese. “I’m not surprised that you can’t remember it,“ he said. “It is, after all, one of the more important precepts handed down to us - and yet it is also one of the more uncomfortable ones. It follows that you would try to forget all about it!“ He moved from behind the desk, and put a gentle hand on Z-11′s shoulder. “But I discipline my body, and bring it into subjection: lest that by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway. Stand up, my son. Evidently, you run a great risk of becoming a castaway - I shall have to bring you into subjection myself!“

ricknnocent

His heart dropped into his stomach. He knew what that meant. He was practically pissing himself.

“I, uh, I-I’m sorry!” he sputtered out before he could even catch himself. Realizing his mistake he gulped back anymore cries out and stood up obediently.

most-reverend-rick

“Let’s see if your insubordination knows some limits or if you’re a lost case entirely,“ the Bishop said, and placed one hand on the young priest’s neck and forced him down to bend over the desk. The papers still strewn over said desk, upon closer inspection, almost seemed premeditated in their subject matter: there were several copies of a tract entitled Where There’s a Will, There’s a Wayward Morty: Disciplining Your Independent Grandson, and a few order forms for various implements ranging from the mostly innocuous (”standard wooden ruler”) to the more threatening (”the Wrathful Paddle™“). “Pull up your cassock,” the Bishop instructed. “I know for a fact that the priest in charge of you has told you just which requirements a Rick of your standing is supposed to meet - I only wonder if you heeded his instructions!”

ricknnocent

He whimpered as his head was pushed forward, though he quickly adjusted himself to bending over the desk.

When instructed to pull up his robes, he did so. Father Rick never permitted him to wear pants or underwear so all he had on under it was his thigh high stockings.

Returning back to his position he clasped his hands together in prayer, actually praying that the Bishop would have mercy and not use a too harsh implement.

most-reverend-rick

The bare backside was a bit of a surprise to the Bishop, who was used to pulling down (or, as the situation sometimes demanded, up) the undergarments of recalcitrant Ricks himself. Not that this surprised showed on his face. “I see you’re already assuming the position,” he said, indicating the priest’s clasped hands. “You assume I’ll be chastising you, then?” He tut-tutted. “There’s no rush here, my son. Your inspection comes first. Come, then.” He landed one open-palmed (but not necessarily vicious) smack on the priest’s exposed behind. “Spread your cheeks. I’m hoping against hope you’re keeping up with at least part of your training!”

most-reverend-rick

"Hello, uh, s-sir," he came in nervously, already scared to death. "Father Rick instructed me to come here..." (ricknnocent)

“Ah, R-319′s young pupil, isn’t it?” The Bishop looked up from the papers he’d been studying. His office (a spacious room in the mansion adjacent to the cathedral at the heart of his diocese) was more old-fashioned than strictly necessary - bookcases lining the walls, candlelight, a decanter of something or other on one of the shelves.The desk behind which the Bishop sat was especially impressive: dark wood, the top of the desk gleaming. The Bishop himself did not look too unkindly. His half-moon glasses had slipped down his nose a little, and he shot the young priest a heartening smile. “I’ve been expecting you. Have a seat, please.“ He waved at the wooden chair opposite the desk. “Your reputation precedes you, I must say. Our dear Father speaks highly of you!”

most-reverend-rick

While the Bishop’s expression only soured further, inwardly he was more entertained than anything else. A spirited little thing, this one! Well, that was vastly preferable to the more languid and nonchalant Ricks in his diocese. “I’m not surprised that you can’t remember it,“ he said. “It is, after all, one of the more important precepts handed down to us - and yet it is also one of the more uncomfortable ones. It follows that you would try to forget all about it!“ He moved from behind the desk, and put a gentle hand on Z-11′s shoulder. “But I discipline my body, and bring it into subjection: lest that by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway. Stand up, my son. Evidently, you run a great risk of becoming a castaway - I shall have to bring you into subjection myself!“

ricknnocent

His heart dropped into his stomach. He knew what that meant. He was practically pissing himself.

“I, uh, I-I’m sorry!” he sputtered out before he could even catch himself. Realizing his mistake he gulped back anymore cries out and stood up obediently.

most-reverend-rick

“Let’s see if your insubordination knows some limits or if you’re a lost case entirely,“ the Bishop said, and placed one hand on the young priest’s neck and forced him down to bend over the desk. The papers still strewn over said desk, upon closer inspection, almost seemed premeditated in their subject matter: there were several copies of a tract entitled Where There’s a Will, There’s a Wayward Morty: Disciplining Your Independent Grandson, and a few order forms for various implements ranging from the mostly innocuous (”standard wooden ruler”) to the more threatening (”the Wrathful Paddle™“). “Pull up your cassock,” the Bishop instructed. “I know for a fact that the priest in charge of you has told you just which requirements a Rick of your standing is supposed to meet - I only wonder if you heeded his instructions!”

most-reverend-rick

"Hello, uh, s-sir," he came in nervously, already scared to death. "Father Rick instructed me to come here..." (ricknnocent)

“Ah, R-319′s young pupil, isn’t it?” The Bishop looked up from the papers he’d been studying. His office (a spacious room in the mansion adjacent to the cathedral at the heart of his diocese) was more old-fashioned than strictly necessary - bookcases lining the walls, candlelight, a decanter of something or other on one of the shelves.The desk behind which the Bishop sat was especially impressive: dark wood, the top of the desk gleaming. The Bishop himself did not look too unkindly. His half-moon glasses had slipped down his nose a little, and he shot the young priest a heartening smile. “I’ve been expecting you. Have a seat, please.“ He waved at the wooden chair opposite the desk. “Your reputation precedes you, I must say. Our dear Father speaks highly of you!”

most-reverend-rick

While the Bishop’s expression only soured further, inwardly he was more entertained than anything else. A spirited little thing, this one! Well, that was vastly preferable to the more languid and nonchalant Ricks in his diocese. “I’m not surprised that you can’t remember it,“ he said. “It is, after all, one of the more important precepts handed down to us - and yet it is also one of the more uncomfortable ones. It follows that you would try to forget all about it!“ He moved from behind the desk, and put a gentle hand on Z-11′s shoulder. “But I discipline my body, and bring it into subjection: lest that by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway. Stand up, my son. Evidently, you run a great risk of becoming a castaway - I shall have to bring you into subjection myself!“

most-reverend-rick

"Hello, uh, s-sir," he came in nervously, already scared to death. "Father Rick instructed me to come here..." (ricknnocent)

“Ah, R-319′s young pupil, isn’t it?” The Bishop looked up from the papers he’d been studying. His office (a spacious room in the mansion adjacent to the cathedral at the heart of his diocese) was more old-fashioned than strictly necessary - bookcases lining the walls, candlelight, a decanter of something or other on one of the shelves.The desk behind which the Bishop sat was especially impressive: dark wood, the top of the desk gleaming. The Bishop himself did not look too unkindly. His half-moon glasses had slipped down his nose a little, and he shot the young priest a heartening smile. “I’ve been expecting you. Have a seat, please.“ He waved at the wooden chair opposite the desk. “Your reputation precedes you, I must say. Our dear Father speaks highly of you!”

ricknnocent

“Oh! He does?” he grinned sheepishly, taking a seat as instructed. Frankly he thought he pissed off Father Rick most of the time. Maybe he had talked nicer of him so the Bishop wouldn’t know how hard things had actually been. Either way, it was good to know he was on the Bishop’s good side. He made him really nervous.

most-reverend-rick

“Oh yes, yes,” the Bishop said, lying through his teeth. Really, any time he found himself alone with Father Rick they had other things to do than discuss various neophytes. At any rate it was much more entertaining to lure the boy into a sense of security that was less than warranted.

“I hear you’re diligent in your studies,” he said, standing up. “Although there seem to be some gaps in your dogmatic knowledge, my son. For example - I’m sure you didn’t mean to be rude when you addressed me as ‘sir’ just now. Or maybe you were?” Followed by an unreadable look.

ricknnocent

“Oh, uh, I’m sorry!” he apologized. “I guess I’m still learning the proper titles. I meant to call you…um…”

He filed through his brain for the proper title but came up short. Was he a “Father” too? He began to sweat already as he became more flustered.

most-reverend-rick

The Bishop placed his hands on the desk, leaning forward. “I don’t know what you meant to call me, but the correct term of address would be Your Grace. You’d do well to remember that.” Another smile, a little ungenerous this time around. “The Church’s hierarchy seems to elude you, then. Perhaps your strength lies with the Rickligious precepts?” Drumming on the desk with his fingers, he seemed to be taking his time to formulate the right question. “Is it the intention of the Holy Rick that we interpret His teachings literally or allegorically?” he finally decided, measuring every word. Of course all this was only show - a bit of legerdemain, of artifice. The Bishop already knew the final destination he was leading the young priest towards. Perhaps it was the illusion of being able to change the path that was the priest’s true punishment.

ricknnocent

“Yes, of course!” he tried to play it cool. Trying to save himself he answered, “Allegorically. I don’t think anyone should take religious practices literally.”

He gave a small nervous grin. Certainly he wasn’t in trouble with the Bishop already. He was starting to get scared now. This guy was above Father Rick, and he was already wary of Father Rick.

most-reverend-rick

“Oh?” The Bishop’s beatific expression grew decidedly less beatific. “One of those priests, are you? When a tenet does not suit your own predilections you simply... interpret it differently?” He pursed his lips. “You don’t think anyone should take religious practices literally... well, let us check. I’m sure you’re familiar with Corickthians, chapter nine, verse twenty-seven?”

most-reverend-rick

"Hello, uh, s-sir," he came in nervously, already scared to death. "Father Rick instructed me to come here..." (ricknnocent)

“Ah, R-319′s young pupil, isn’t it?” The Bishop looked up from the papers he’d been studying. His office (a spacious room in the mansion adjacent to the cathedral at the heart of his diocese) was more old-fashioned than strictly necessary - bookcases lining the walls, candlelight, a decanter of something or other on one of the shelves.The desk behind which the Bishop sat was especially impressive: dark wood, the top of the desk gleaming. The Bishop himself did not look too unkindly. His half-moon glasses had slipped down his nose a little, and he shot the young priest a heartening smile. “I’ve been expecting you. Have a seat, please.“ He waved at the wooden chair opposite the desk. “Your reputation precedes you, I must say. Our dear Father speaks highly of you!”

ricknnocent

“Oh! He does?” he grinned sheepishly, taking a seat as instructed. Frankly he thought he pissed off Father Rick most of the time. Maybe he had talked nicer of him so the Bishop wouldn’t know how hard things had actually been. Either way, it was good to know he was on the Bishop’s good side. He made him really nervous.

most-reverend-rick

“Oh yes, yes,” the Bishop said, lying through his teeth. Really, any time he found himself alone with Father Rick they had other things to do than discuss various neophytes. At any rate it was much more entertaining to lure the boy into a sense of security that was less than warranted.

“I hear you’re diligent in your studies,” he said, standing up. “Although there seem to be some gaps in your dogmatic knowledge, my son. For example - I’m sure you didn’t mean to be rude when you addressed me as ‘sir’ just now. Or maybe you were?” Followed by an unreadable look.

ricknnocent

“Oh, uh, I’m sorry!” he apologized. “I guess I’m still learning the proper titles. I meant to call you…um…”

He filed through his brain for the proper title but came up short. Was he a “Father” too? He began to sweat already as he became more flustered.

most-reverend-rick

The Bishop placed his hands on the desk, leaning forward. “I don’t know what you meant to call me, but the correct term of address would be Your Grace. You’d do well to remember that.” Another smile, a little ungenerous this time around. “The Church’s hierarchy seems to elude you, then. Perhaps your strength lies with the Rickligious precepts?” Drumming on the desk with his fingers, he seemed to be taking his time to formulate the right question. “Is it the intention of the Holy Rick that we interpret His teachings literally or allegorically?” he finally decided, measuring every word. Of course all this was only show - a bit of legerdemain, of artifice. The Bishop already knew the final destination he was leading the young priest towards. Perhaps it was the illusion of being able to change the path that was the priest’s true punishment.

most-reverend-rick

"Hello, uh, s-sir," he came in nervously, already scared to death. "Father Rick instructed me to come here..." (ricknnocent)

“Ah, R-319′s young pupil, isn’t it?” The Bishop looked up from the papers he’d been studying. His office (a spacious room in the mansion adjacent to the cathedral at the heart of his diocese) was more old-fashioned than strictly necessary - bookcases lining the walls, candlelight, a decanter of something or other on one of the shelves.The desk behind which the Bishop sat was especially impressive: dark wood, the top of the desk gleaming. The Bishop himself did not look too unkindly. His half-moon glasses had slipped down his nose a little, and he shot the young priest a heartening smile. “I’ve been expecting you. Have a seat, please.“ He waved at the wooden chair opposite the desk. “Your reputation precedes you, I must say. Our dear Father speaks highly of you!”

ricknnocent

“Oh! He does?” he grinned sheepishly, taking a seat as instructed. Frankly he thought he pissed off Father Rick most of the time. Maybe he had talked nicer of him so the Bishop wouldn’t know how hard things had actually been. Either way, it was good to know he was on the Bishop’s good side. He made him really nervous.

most-reverend-rick

“Oh yes, yes,” the Bishop said, lying through his teeth. Really, any time he found himself alone with Father Rick they had other things to do than discuss various neophytes. At any rate it was much more entertaining to lure the boy into a sense of security that was less than warranted.

“I hear you’re diligent in your studies,” he said, standing up. “Although there seem to be some gaps in your dogmatic knowledge, my son. For example - I’m sure you didn’t mean to be rude when you addressed me as ‘sir’ just now. Or maybe you were?” Followed by an unreadable look.

#reblogging to the right blog is Difficult

"Hello, uh, s-sir," he came in nervously, already scared to death. "Father Rick instructed me to come here..." (ricknnocent)

“Ah, R-319′s young pupil, isn’t it?” The Bishop looked up from the papers he’d been studying. His office (a spacious room in the mansion adjacent to the cathedral at the heart of his diocese) was more old-fashioned than strictly necessary - bookcases lining the walls, candlelight, a decanter of something or other on one of the shelves.The desk behind which the Bishop sat was especially impressive: dark wood, the top of the desk gleaming. The Bishop himself did not look too unkindly. His half-moon glasses had slipped down his nose a little, and he shot the young priest a heartening smile. “I’ve been expecting you. Have a seat, please.“ He waved at the wooden chair opposite the desk. “Your reputation precedes you, I must say. Our dear Father speaks highly of you!”

#ricknnocent #Anonymous

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