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eruanna1875 · 3 years

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Face of a Friend (Short Story)

Originally written on Good Friday, March 25, 2016.

I ran wildly through the city streets, searching the faces of passersby, asking each person: "Where is Jesus?"

Where could He be? He must've come to Jerusalem for the Passover. I'd heard so many things... I had to know the Truth. We'd been friends as children, in Nazareth. We'd played together, as David and Jonathan, battling the Philistines; sometimes as Abraham, saving Lot from wicked kings. Jesus played David most often. He did it quite well.

My way was barred by immense crowds. What was going on? Someone said there was a man to be crucified ahead, and they wanted to see. I didn't want to see another man crucified, perhaps falsely accused. But the crowds closed in, and I could but follow.

My thoughts turned to Jesus. I remembered the stories His parents told: the tale of His birth we asked for repeatedly. We told stories too, but Jesus told the best ones. Very good with words, was Jesus. Once we came to Jerusalem for Passover. When we left, He was missing, so His parents went back to find Him. Days later, they found Him, and what do you think He was doing? Talking, with priests and elders, who listened to His words! Jesus studied the Scriptures often. He spoke strangely about them, saying they might soon be fulfilled. I never understood that.

A child was running beside me, trying to get to the front of the crowd. He stumbled and fell. I stooped to help him. He was crying, because he couldn't find his Friend. He thought they were going to kill Him. I told him it would be alright, and he followed me.

Somehow, he reminded me of my Friend. Jesus wouldn't stand for any wrongdoing, among us or others. He might only say a word, and the sin would be driven away. When any of us were hurt or ill, His healing presence raised our spirits the moment we saw Him. He was the kindest person I'd ever known.

We were now out of Jerusalem, near the hill. In front of us, two men spoke.

"Who they crucifying now?"

"That Nazarene everyone's talking about!"

"Hm. Heard He's a blasphemer."

"Whoever told you that knows nothing. He's-"

"Well, they're accusing Him of blasphemy. Treason too. And false or not, you're going to see Jesus of Nazareth dead before nightfall."

"What?!" I looked up at the hill. Three crosses stood there, faintly outlined against the darkening sky. I ran towards the hill, the boy close behind. How could this be? I had heard about things He'd done. He healed the sick and lame. Drove out demons with a word. Brought sinners to God. He had raised the very dead, and they killed Him for that?

I stumbled, regained my footing quick as possible and ran to find my Friend. What had He done? He'd told stories to the people, and taught them righteous ways. He said nothing against Scripture! He that knew and loved it so well, how could He blaspheme God? Who believed so strongly in the Promise... of the Messiah...

Now at the front of the crowd, I looked up at the cross on which my Friend hung. Soldiers barred my way. I could get no nearer. Tears filled my eyes as I looked on Jesus. The boy who had followed me was weeping for his Friend and mine. The sky, like that day's deeds, was dark.

I finally understood my Friend's words about the prophecies. Why He had done things He did. Why He was born at all. He spoke of the prophecies as if they were soon to be fulfilled because He had come to do it! He was the Messiah, promised to our people. Promised to David, to Abraham. Perhaps Jesus had known that before anything else. What was it He said? Did you not know I must be in my Father's House?

All was clear to me. He has come; a light to the Gentiles, the glory of His people. To take all sins--my sins--upon Himself. Yet, if He was dead... but wasn't it the same with Abraham? His son was to die, but he didn't give up hope. As the stars of the heavens shall his children be. Now I know God meant all people who believe in the Messiah. In Jesus.

"He was the Son of God," the boy said sadly. "Now He's dead."

"Yes, but don't lose hope. He's also the Son of Promise, and God's promises always come true. Not even Death can stop that. I have faith we'll see Him alive again, soon."

Time stood still, as did we, standing there, looking into the face of a Friend. The search is ended. Here is Jesus. Here is life.

#hope #old writing #biblical stories #that's it #that's the last one #it's five years old at this point #but it's still an okay bit of writing I guess #Easter #Jesus is life #chiasm

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bottomharrykingdom · 5 years

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Fics featuring mostly heavy Roman Catholic/Christian themes. Warnings for blasphemy and homophobia. Please read all tags carefully!

👑 I’ll worship like a dog (1k) PASTOR LOUIS, CHRISTIAN HARRY

👑 my sanctuary, you’re holy to me (2k) ANGEL HARRY

👑 no time to waste (let’s fall from grace) (2k) CHRISTIAN HARRY

👑 watch the sun (it paints an orange sky) (4k) WICCAN HARRY

👑 So you can keep me (Inside the pocket of your ripped jeans) (3k) JEWISH HARRY

👑 Like Pieces of a Puzzle (3k) CHRISTIAN HARRY

👑 One Day I’d Like to Meet Your Mouth (4k) BLASPHEMY KINK

👑 To Kingdom Come (4k) CHRISTIAN HARRY

👑 Make It Stop. (5k) CHRISTIAN HARRY

👑 Do You Think You’re What They Say You Are? (6k) BLASPHEMY KINK

👑 ‘Cause You’re All I Want Now (12k) JEWISH HARRY

👑 you’re stumbling like the nazarene (13k) BLASPHEMY KINK

👑 Sodom and Gomorrah (15k) DEMON LOUIS

👑 a cage for every ugly spirit (15k) BLASPHEMY KINK

👑 and the truth shall set you free (…maybe) (17k) ABO RELIGION

👑 Pray Till I Go Blind (19k) DEMON HARRY, PASTOR LOUIS

👑 The Fall (34k) ANGEL HARRY, ANGEL LOUIS

👑 Say Your Prayers (59k) CHRISTIAN HARRY

👑 Cold (87k) CHRISTIAN HARRY

HAPPY READING! and please remember to leave kudos/a nice comment to the authors! ✨

#bhk fic rec #fic rec #larry fic #religious

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fanfic-moodboard · 5 years

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On the floor, Louis sits back on his heels, licking his lips and bracing his hands on his thighs. He’s still wearing his robes from the service. “Is that seriously something you’d want to do?”

Harry nods, his head still fuzzy from getting sucked off.

“Would you, um - did you tell me because you wanted me to be involved?”

“Well, I can’t see how I’d make it forty days without someone to motivate me,” Harry tells him cheekily.

Louis laughs. “That’s very true.”

“The only problem is that, um - it really gets me off.”

“What does?”

Harry gulps. “Just, like - just the thought of not being allowed to come. M’not sure how I’m going to last forty days.”

Louis climbs gracefully to his feet, dusting off his robes. “I might be able to get something to help you with that. No guarantees, though, especially because you’ve got to start Wednesday, but we’ll see.”

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Part one: first-year uni student Harry gives up orgasms for Lent, featuring a cock cage and weekly prostate milkings on Sundays.

“a cage for every ugly spirit” by sarcasticfluentry (needs ao3 account)

Part two: Harry hasn't had an orgasm in six weeks since he gave them up for Lent. On Easter Day, he has five.

“you’re stumbling like the nazarene” by sarcasticfluentry (needs ao3 account)

#fic rec #one direction #a cage for every ugly spirit #you're stumbling like the nazarene

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invincible-selfxmade-punk · 5 years

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OK, if you are of the Good Omens fandom you owe it to yourself to go buy the Blaqk Audio album Bright Black Heaven. Someone described it as Davey’s own self insertion fan fic. However, as a Good Omens fan, every single song on there fits the a/c ship. And to prove this, I give you : Faith Healer You’re stumbling like the Nazarene You’ve cast your gaze too high The rapture you seek is found below and it’s been denied. You’re stunning, just like a Philistine You’re wasting precious time Shake off that chill of Heaven and come rest your weary eyes You’ve been wandering, searching for Him forever Just take some respite here, and if He shows, We’ll talk to Him together Ohh, don’t you know? If you come down, down, down I know a little sin to which we can aspire Oh, don’t you know? When you come down, down, down Just crawl back in your skin and it will take you higher, higher, higher You’re a vision, if you could see yourself through my enlightened eyes You’d pull yourself from fantasy and wrap yourself in life You’ve been suffering, bound to Him forever We’ll have your release here, and when we go, we’ll take His name Oh, don’t you know ? If you come down, down, down I know a little sin to which we can aspire Oh, don’t you know? When you come down, down, down Just crawl back in your skin and it will take you higher, Does he ever speak to you like I do? Does he ever speak to you? Does he ever speak to you like I do? Does he ever speak to you? Does he ever feel the way that I feel? How does he feel?

#SoundCloud #music #SuperballMusic #blaqk #audio #faith healer #Arizaphale #Crowley #Jade #Davey #A/C #Javey

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domestic-harry · 7 years

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Can you do a nipple play smut fic rec?

Nipple Play Fics

And It’s Peaceful In The Deep : Louis tries out nipple clamps on Harry for the first time.

You’re Stumbling Like The Nazarene : Harry hasn’t had an orgasm in six weeks since he gave them up for Lent. On Easter Day, he has five.

Give It Up To Me : The cliché where Louis isn’t supposed to come but he does, and that can’t go unpunished in Harry’s eyes.

Lately I’ve Been Craving More : Louis likes to play with Harry’s nipples. Like, a lot.

Art of Seduction : The one where Louis is engaged but that doesn’t stop Harry from seducing him

Baby Heaven’s in Your Eyes, Hell’s on Your Lips : Harry and Louis fall in love on the set of a porn film.

But I'ma Touch You Right : The boys discover Louis’ nipple piercings, but Harry really discovers them.

Talk Like A Top Take It Like A Bottom : The one where harry is a 16 year old sex addict who has to go to therapy, but just ends up seducing Louis, his 21 year old therapist.

#fic rec #asks

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nottooldforthisship · 7 years

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Hii! I saw the fic rec you reblogged about sterek easter ff and I was wondering if you'd know some larry fics based on easter, thanks you for all your great work!! Xx

Not that much sadly !

- No More Easter Eggs , by MoonlitLarrie: Harry and Louis have invited Louis' family to spend the Easter Holiday at their place and they have been planning an Easter Eggs hunt. Until everything goes wrong. Just a silly drabble I wrote. It's just pure fluff, domesticity and Louis teasing Harry as always. (1.5k - M)

- you're stumbling like the nazarene , by sarcasticfluentry: Harry hasn't had an orgasm in six weeks since he gave them up for Lent. On Easter Day, he has five. (13k - E)

- here for you , by blitztrigger : “I can be your boyfriend for when you go home at Easter,” Harry says in one quick breath, “Fake boyfriend, I mean. If you- um, if you want?” Or, an AU where Louis needs a bit of a hand, and Harry's more than willing to help out.(24k, - M)

- The Art of Egg Dyeing, by sebaugust : Louis goes to volunteer for his younger sisters', Phoebe and Daisy, Easter party at their preschool. He thinks he'll spend a few awkward hours making small talk with the twins' boring teacher, but is pleasantly surprised when their teacher turns out to be the very attractive Harry Styles. Louis decides to try and impress Harry by dyeing the eggs he was given bright, vibrant colors, but all goes wrong when he accidentally dyes his hands as well. Will the entire day be marked as a flop or will Louis find a way to impress the teacher and win his heart? (4k - T)

#fic rec #Easter fics #my fic rec #Anonymous

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craicchapel · 7 years

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Can you give me a link to the Easter fic?

'you're stumbling like the nazarene' they made itprivate though so you have to make an account/log in to have access to it

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freshairandspearmint · 7 years

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the shadow proves the sunshine.

They say that blindness is a curse from the Almighty, a divine judgement for sin.

He can't say that he disagrees. The Almighty is light, and all that he's known is darkness.

He’s never known the light of morning. He’s never known what it is to see a sunrise, to awake and open his eyes and see light.

The birdsong heralds the morning for him. The birdsong, and his mother puttering about in the main room. He opens his eyes every morning, thinking that maybe today will be the day that the Almighty cures him of his blindness, that today will be the day that he sees the sun, can put a colour to the blue of the sky, but darkness is the only thing that greets him.

If his blindness is a punishment for sin, then he’s not too sure whose sin it is. His parents have maintained their innocence, tearfully at points, as soon as he was old enough to ask what the whispering he heard in public was about. And it certainly wasn’t him—how could he sin while in the womb?

He eats breakfast quietly, like he does every morning. His father is already out working, so the only companionship to be had is muttered conversation with his mother, as usual; conversation that grows more stilted as the days pass. He’s a strain on them, he knows. He might have to move out for good, soon. They didn’t ask for this. They don’t deserve this.

After breakfast, as the sun he can’t see rises in the sky and starts to cast heat on his skin, his mother guides him to his regular corner. He sits on the dirt, settles against the wall, and he waits.

The money he makes here isn’t enough to help his parents in any significant way, but at least it’s better than nothing.

There’s whispers floating around Jerusalem today, though. They had been yesterday, too, but the fact that they’re still around right now says something to the truth of them.

Jesus of Nazareth is in Jerusalem once again.

He’s hear stories of what this man can do, of the people he’s healed, of the demons he’s cast out. Of the sin he claims to be able to forgive. If sin really is the cause of his blindness, maybe this Jesus will be the person who can take it away. Maybe he can cure him of his blindness, once and for all.

It’s wishful thinking, at best. A happy, wistful thought that carries him through the morning and into the early afternoon, as the sun gets unbearably hot and starts to blister his skin. This is the time of day when his back starts to ache, when his legs beg to get up and stretch, but he doesn’t move. He stays right where he is. If he leaves, he might never find his spot again, or somebody else might steal it. He can’t let that happen—this spot is his only hope.

His eyes don’t work, but his ears work very well, and as he’s wrestling with whether or not it would be worth it, just this once, to leave for a little bit, he hears the footsteps and sounds of a crowd approaching. The whispers get to him right afterwards, like an echo.

Jesus.

No. No way. Not today. Not on this street, of all streets. It’s so far out of the way of anywhere a man who can heal people would want to go—

The crowd gets to him, and then stops. There’s not a breeze to cool his skin, or to muffle the words of the people in front of him, so there’s nothing to stop him from hearing a young man ask, “Teacher, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”

He stays still, because maybe if he doesn’t draw attention to himself they’ll leave him alone. He focusses on the grit of sand in between his toes and how there’s a gentle breeze that does little to cool his skin and he pretends that he can’t hear them. That they’re not there. He’s blind, not deaf, but not many people seem to be able to tell the difference. Not based on what they say around him, anyways.

And because he is blind and not deaf, he can hear this Jesus’ response, clear as—well, clear. “Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” Jesus says warmly, yet with a slight edge to his voice, “but this happened so that the works of the Almighty might be displayed in him. As long as it is day, we must do the works of him who sent me. Night is coming, when no one can work. While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”

Light, darkness. Day, night. What’s the difference, anyways? He certainly can’t tell. Does it matter? And what does this man mean, that the works of the Almighty are going to be displayed in him? He’s heard the whispers, he’s heard the rumours, he knows that there are people that Jesus has healed, completely, but there is no way—

He knows that sound. The sound of saliva gathering in someone’s mouth, then hitting the ground. He’s heard it almost every day since he started sitting here. The crowd gasps, and then gasps again at what happens next. He can’t see it, and he’s never hated his blindness more than he hates it now, because Jesus was talking about him and now he can’t see what Jesus is doing and it’s the worst form of torture.

He closes his eyes, not that it matters, leaning his head against the building behind him, and then startles at the touch of wet and cold and sticky to his eyes.

Jesus says, much closer now, breath warm on his face, “Be still. It’s okay.”

A laugh in the crowd ends abruptly, and he—he puts together spit and dirt and the wet sticky on his eyelids and there is no way, no way, that the man who heals people would—would lower himself to making mud and then putting it on his eyelids. Jesus might not care what people think about him, but he’s not the one that’s having mud spread across his eyes, is he?

Jesus’ fingers stop touching him, finally, and they don’t return. “Go,” Jesus says softly, “wash in the Pool of Siloam.”

There’s mud caked on his eyes. The sun is relentless on his skin. The Pool sounds like an excellent idea.

He could make his way to the Pool of Siloam in his sleep, if he had to. It’s not very far from his perch, and he doesn’t need to focus too hard on where he’s going, and maybe it’s that that allows the thoughts to creep in.

Mud. Why mud? What on earth is mud supposed to do?

I don’t know.

Did he use mud any of the other times he’s healed people?

There’s no proof that he’s going to be healing me.

He said, “that the works of the Almighty may be displayed in you.” What are the works of the Almighty, if not to heal you?

Who can know what the Almighty wants? Who can know what his works are, other than what he’s revealed to us?

Do you want to be healed?

Of course I do. It’s just—mud.

Man came from dust.

It wasn’t the dust that was special.

The Pool is cool and loud, people coming to cool and refresh. He stumbles over other people’s feet on the way there, limbs in his way not always by accident. When he gets to the edge of the pool, he dips his feet in, and then his hands in, and eventually he lowers his whole body into it. The man called Jesus put mud on his eyes and told him to go wash. Regardless of what’s going to happen, of what he hopes is going to happen, he’s going to wash thoroughly.

He ducks his head beneath the water, rubs the mud away from his eyes.

He almost forget to come up for air when he opens them, startled by the sight of what blue looks like.

It hits him moments after he breaks the surface of the water, sputtering. He can see.

He can see, and there’s no sign of Jesus or the crowd that had been following him.

It doesn’t take long for a different crowd to form around him as he sits on the ground, though, stunned and overwhelmed by sight. By light. By the people he can see without touching and the colours and the sights to match the sounds.

They see that he can see. They know who he is. They still ask, “Isn’t this the same man that used to sit and beg?”

There’s a soft murmur of agreement, but a man near the front—and the vitriol on his face is overwhelming—says, “No, he only looks like him.”

He can’t let that pass. He clears his throat, tries not to blink too much because what if this is only for a limited time? What if he blinks and it stays dark once again? He much prefers the light, even though it hurts his eyes. “I’m the man that was blind,” he says.

“How were your eyes opened, then?” the man at the front asks, no less harsh. “How can you see?”

He swallows thickly. “The man they called Jesus made some mud and put it on my eyes. He told me to go to Siloam and wash. So I came here, and I washed, and now I can see.”

At the name of Jesus the crowd grows tense. He sees—sees—the man at the front clench his right first. “Where did he go? Where is he now?”

“I don’t know,” he answers, honestly, and when the crowd has no more questions he gets up and walks home.

His mother says, “You’re home earlier than usual.”

He replies, “Mother, your eyes are beautiful.”

She drops the pot in her hands.

The next morning, he wakes with the sunrise. Basks in the morning haze of sunlight that bathes the walls. Looks out his window and marvels at the sight of blue all over again.

Somebody knocks on the door. Nobody else is awake yet, so he creeps to it on his tiptoes, so much easier to do now that he can see where he’s going, and opens it to see someone from the temple there.

“The Pharisees would like to speak to you,” the man says calmly.

His heart leaps to his throat, and his stomach drops, and he goes.

It’s early enough in the morning that there’s not many people lingering in the temple. The Pharisees are gathered in a group near the front of the room, near the curtain that separates them from the presence of the Almighty. He’s never been in this room before; fitting that, the first time he is, he’s able to see it.

Their muttered conversation stops as soon as they realize he’s entered. One man, his expression severe and troubled, separates from the group to approach him. “You were blind?”

He cannot lie. “Yes.”

“How can you see?”

He takes a deep breath, even as his stomach drops—but he cannot lie. He cannot lie.

Be still. It’s okay.

The memory of the Nazarene’s voice emboldens him. “He put mud on my eyes, and then I went to the pool and washed, and now I see.”

“He?”

“Jesus of Nazareth.”

The group of Pharisees explodes with harsh whispers again; he tries to ignore them, but they make it difficult. His vision is new. He’s not used to seeing everything, only hearing it, so he stares transfixed at their agitated gesticulating. His ears, still used to compensating for the lack of sight, gives him an in to their conversation.

“…cannot be from the Almighty.”

“Why?”

“Yesterday was a Sabbath. He did not keep it.”

“But he healed this man.”

“There are other ways to preform such signs.”

“But a sinner? How could a sinner preform a miracle such as this?”

Who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?

Neither this man nor his parents sinned, but this happened so that the works of the Almighty might be displayed in him.

The man that was sent to speak with him says, “You were truly blind?”

He takes a deep breath—he’s never had much of a temper, but losing it now would not be wise. “I could not see until yesterday.”

“And what do you think about the man who healed you?”

“He is a prophet,” he replies; that’s what everybody seems to think about Jesus of Nazareth, anyways, and it won’t hurt to stick to what the crowds are repeating.

The man questioning him nods at a boy; the boy leaves for a moment, and then returns with his parents in tow. His father has schooled his expression, but his mother is not bothering to hide her fright. He can see, no longer the burden on them that he has been his whole life, but he is still causing them trouble.

Be still. It’s okay.

But his mother is clutching tightly to one of his father’s arms and it doesn’t feel okay.

“Is this your son?” the questioner asks.

His father glances at him for a brief moment before nodding. “Yes.”

“And he was born blind?”

“He was.”

“How is it that now he can see?”

His mother pales, and her hands are white with the force she’s gripping his father’s arm. His father looks at him one more time, and then he looks away. “He is our son, and he was born blind, but as for how he can see or who opened his eyes, we don’t know. Ask him—he is of age, he will speak for himself.”

His stomach drops. The questioner sends his parents away, and he desperately wants to call after them but he doesn’t. His father was right—he’s not a boy anymore. He is a man. A man who can see.

The questioner turns back to him as the Pharisees look at him expectantly. “Give glory to the Almighty by telling the truth. We know that this man is a sinner.”

Deep breaths. “Whether he is a sinner or not, I don’t know,” he replies, struggling to keep his voice even. “The only thing I know is that I was blind, but now I see.”

“What did he do to you?” the questioner presses. “How did he open your eyes?”

“I’ve told you already,” he says, “and you didn’t want to listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you want to become his disciples too?”

The Pharisees erupt again. This time, though, they converge on him, making no attempt to hide their ire. Their fists are clenched as they speak; if they were outside…

“You are this fellow’s disciple?”

“We are disciples of Moses!”

“We know that the Almighty spoke to Moses, but we have no idea where this man came from!”

His temper snaps.

“Now that is remarkable,” he says, a harsh laugh in his tone. “You don’t know where he came from, yet he opened my eyes. We know that the Almighty does not listen to sinners. He listens to the godly person who does his will. Nobody has ever heard of opening the eyes of a man born blind. If this man were not from the Almighty, he could do nothing.”

The Pharisees start to rage louder, but silence when the questioner raises a hand. “You,” the questioner says, voice thin with anger, “were steeped in sin at birth. How dare you lecture us?” The questioner straightens his back, standing at his full height, and then he says, “We cast you out.”

He returns to his spot.

It’s different finding it, now that he can see, but he’s hardly going to go home. He can’t do that to his parents; can’t bear to face them now that he’s been thrown out. He can see, but at what cost? He can’t even worship the Almighty with his people now.

He sits, leans against the wall, and closes his eyes. There’s no familiarity or reprieve to be found in the darkness. His heart is still heavy. He still feels as if he is missing something. He can see, but he still feels blind.

A hand falls on his shoulder. He doesn’t open his eyes.

A quiet voice says, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?”

His eyes snap open. The man kneels across from him, hand still warm on his shoulder. There is nothing remarkable about him, and there’s no crowds in sight. A tear streaks down his cheek, but he ignores it in favour of taking a deep breath. “Who is he?” he asks as his voice shakes. “Where is he? Tell me, so that I can believe in him.”

The man smiles. “You have seen him.”

His heart leaps, but it’s only when the man says, “In fact, he is the one speaking to you,” that he dares to hope again.

#wherein i use switchfoot lyrics for titles more than any other #switchfoot please don't sue #i'll change them if i publish #short story #prose #writing #writers of tumblr #God #Jesus #Christian #Christianity #faith #religion #graces #healing

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theficpusher · 5 years

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Ex Cathedra by haztobegood | M | 4435 Harry nodded. “Yeah, but if the Church doesn’t accept me, how am I supposed to worship God?” “Remember what Father Paul said?” Louis asked. “He said that while the church is a building where we gather to worship, your faith is your Church and no one can take that away from you. And besides, we do have a church.”

And If God Called Me a Sinner (I Wish I'd Listened) by musiclily88 | T | 7172 Schoolboys tease each other, don’t they? So Liam shouldn’t feel guilty about it, or the fact that he can’t stop his cheeks from flaring pink every time Louis so much as looks at him. Right?

you're stumbling like the nazarene by sarcasticfluentry | E | 13213 Harry hasn't had an orgasm in six weeks since he gave them up for Lent. On Easter Day, he has five.

We'll Rise Up by FallingLikeThis | nr | 18696 “So,” Liam begins with a smile, “you were the associate pastor at your last church?” “Yes,” Louis can already feel himself scrunching down in his seat, shrinking against even the reminder of the church he was forced from. “Was that a good experience for you?” Liam steeples his hands in front of him as he leans his elbows on the desk in interest. “It was for a while but, to be honest, things ended rather badly,” Louis leans forward too, he needs to get this out and he wants to tell Liam everything, have everything on the table. Leaning forward even more, Liam seems to be looking for the same thing, “What happened?” Louis can feel the trembles in his hands again, so he sits on them, biting his lip before admitting, “They found out I’m gay.” In the hallway, there’s a terribly loud thump and then a grunt of pain and Louis twists around to see Harry, sprawled out on the ground just outside the doorway. Or Louis is a Pastor with no church and a heart filled with uncertainty. Pastor Payne is more than willing to give Louis a new place to work, but it's Music Director Harry that helps him rebuild his faith.

Pray Till I Go Blind by el_em_en_oh_pee | E | 18988 Louis is (kind of) a preacher. Harry is (probably) a demon. Of course, nothing's as simple as that. This is not a love story.

Yet in Thy Dark Streets Shineth by juliusschmidt | M | 57730 Louis’ life has become the very thing he’s always dreaded: routine. His job is steady, his bills are paid, his friends are preoccupied, his siblings are mostly old enough not to need him, and his mom keeps pestering him about attending church. Apparently, the new minister pulls rainbows and unicorns out of his robes. Advent arrives three months into Harry’s first call as associate pastor at St. Andrews. Life is… not perfect. He’s still figuring out how do his job and the holidays bring a whole bundle of extra stress. On top of which, he has no friends or family nearby with whom he can decompress. Louis Tomlinson shows up to worship in the nick of time.

Neither Can Floods Drown by el_em_en_oh_pee | E | 58218 Louis has built a pretty decent life for himself in his hometown. He has his work, he has his best friends, he has his family, he has his church. Over the past three years, he's learned to live with heartbreak. Things are going well. That's when he gets the news that He Who Must Not Be Named is coming back to town. That's when the flood comes, crashing in over the valley. That's when everything changes. It may not be the apocalypse, but Louis's world still feels like it's ending.

Promise in the Sky by Throwthemflowers | E | 99208 AU in which Harry Styles, a naïve, repressed, socially awkward Midwestern highschooler tries to navigate his fundamentalist evangelical parents and radically progressive older sister. He’s doing an okay job of this until the Tomlinson family starts attending Lakeside Baptist Church and a boy named Louis changes everything. Harry is forced to come to grips with his true self when Louis becomes more than just his best friend; but their relationship opens a can of worms and sends them on the most painful, heartbreaking journey of their young lives. They risk everything and nearly lose, and Harry learns that perhaps only one Bible verse is true: that perfect love casteth out fear.

#religion #Ex Cathedra #haztobegood #And If God Called Me a Sinner (I Wish I’d Listened)#musiclily88 #you’re stumbling like the nazarene #sarcasticfluentry #we'll rise up #FallingLikeThis #el_em_en_oh_pee #Pray Till I Go Blind #Yet in Thy Dark Streets Shineth #juliusschmidt #Neither Can Floods Drown #Promise in the Sky #Throwthemflowers

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jlf23tumble · 2 years

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Hey, any religion kink fics?

ABSOLUTELY START HERE, this was the 1D Novena Ficathon from way back when that gave my two all-time faves: a cage for every ugly spirit and you’re stumbling like the nazarene

Risk Your Health for Me, sirtranscelot, 2.5k. Constant debauchery bb!

Garden of Eden, superglass, 6.1k. The fertility of it all!

Per Aspera, sedfierisentio, 10k. So much symbolism!

Sodom and Gomorrah, coffinofachimera, 15k. The author of Time Passed can do no wrong!

The Garden series, throwthemflowers, 57k. Reincarnation and more!

of the divine series, devilinmybrain, 104k. Angel Harry!

#fic rec #one direction #the way this was an ask i answered a few months ago #with zero hits #me = successful #...at repurposing booyah #same answer friends!#copy and paste got me like

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abusivedadsrock · 7 years

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Gether around children, is that time of the year again:

Lent is almost over (or it’s already over idk I don't keep up) and Easter Day is around the corner, so....

You know what you should read, right?

a cage for every ugly spirit + you're stumbling like the nazarene

(cause there's nothing better than defiling a religious holiday with great smut)

Happy Sinning!

#fic rec

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jlf23tumble · 3 years

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Hey! you’re a God in fic reccing seriously lol. Can you rec some fics where harry cries during sex!

You are super KIND, and I love you a whole lot, random sunglasses dude on the Internet! Turns out I had actually answered this one about nine months ago here (and got a hilarious follow-up rec here), but I also feel like I half-assed it? So here's a bunch more, some of them ver' ver' new...hope you like!!

For Their Eyes Only, Valentia, 1.2k. OT5 orgy!

Blankets Off, MYGiswhipped, 2k. OT5 orgy!

rimladelphia, docklands/ @hershelsue, 2.2k. HSLOT in Philly!

A Hard Day's Work, orphan_account, 4k. BDSM city!

never worse but never better, sky_reid, 4.4k. X Factor era!

this is my jam, @disgruntledkittenface, 4.5k. '90s bathhouse!

Baby You're a Classic, orphan_account, 4.8k. OT5 orgy!

To Crave Your Touch, @haztobegood, 4.9k. Pearl necklace tragedy!

In Motion, orphan_account, 5.9k. Edging for days (well, a day)!

Always My Good Boy, ItIsWhatItIs9194, 8.7k. BDSM city!

Your God Shaped Hole Tonight, objectlesson, 8.4k. GRACIOUS!

Cause lately i've been craving more, ageminiheart, 11k. Threesome!

A Little Trouble Never Hurt Nobody, sweaterpawstyles, 13k. OT5 orgy!

you're stumbling like the nazarene, sarcasticfluentry, 13k. Blasphemy, babies!!

The bootyverse is expanding, yeah_alright/ @uhoh-but-yeah-alright, 21k. THIS SERIES!!!

Loved By Your Mother, superglass/ @gaymoustache, 31k. Angst city!! :(

You were a beam of light, lit up my broken sky, CuckooTrooke/ @larrydoinglaundry, 84k. All-around gem!

ETA: I updated the blog for superglass, and I know this is being reblogged, so that’s a major oops on my part, sorry about that!!

#fic rec #one direction #crying #yes yes some of these are familiar #it's the overstimulation that's the trick ;)#I'm sure i missed a BUNCH #but we have to draw the line a bit eh?

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jlf23tumble · 3 years

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apologies for the language but 👉👈 do you have any fic recs of nympho!harry getting plowed and gagging for it like the wanton he is. LMAO

Bb, you never have to apologize for the language, we're all here for it, we all love it, and I'm so sorry I made you wait for it. I promise I'm not edging you, I just got stuck at work, then I started pulling fic, then it went CRAZY and I had to stop, but we all have to start somewhere, amirite? Let's kick things off with two recent fic posts I made so that I don't repeat them: full-on nympho Harry and BJs. In addition to a smattering of my own faves, I consulted with two of my best connoisseurs (@wskysour and @cockslvtharry), and between the three of us, you're gonna find some gems here! I finally decided to draw the line so you wouldn't get this weeks later, but if you're all caught up on the earlier two lists and the one below the cut, and you still need morrrrrrrrrrrre, come on back now, y'hear? I won't try to tag authors or get too wordy on the descriptions, just know they all deliver what you need!

For Their Eyes Only, Valentia, 1.2k, harry/rest of band. Gang bang!

give it to me like i want it, orphan_account, 1.4k, harry/louis. Giant dick!

The Clark Kent Effect, wishforwishes, 2k. harry/omc. Prostitution roleplay!

Blankets Off, MYGiswhipped, 2k, harry/louis. Cockwarming with friends!

FUCKING BRAT!, wannabebestseller, 2.3k, harry/louis. Fucking brat!

When the Wolves Go Silent, musiclily88, 2.9k, harry/louis/zayn. Spitroasting neighbors!

honey is it time to spin, alongthewatchtower, 3.5k, harry/louis. Silverfox frottage!

if you want to free it, beautlouis, 3.7k, harry/louis. Fisting!

just want to make love to you, beautlouis, 3.7k, harry/louis. Ronnie Wood aphrodasia!

Like Every Party Is Just Us (Five), LittleMousling, 3.6k, harry/rest of band. Gang bang (again)!

Rachel, Nevada, @vondrostes, 3.8k, harry/ofc/jeff. Alien probe roleplay!

Fulfilling Your Needs, orphan_account, 4.3k, harry/louis. Sex toys!

use somebody, istajmaal, 5k, harry/louis/nick. Threesome!

Man Seeking Wolf, @rosemarianthyme, 5.2k, harry/derek. Breeding kink!

The One Who's in Control, QuickedWeen/ @becomeawendybird, 5.3k, harry/louis. Dildo machine!

Piss Kink series, stretchmybones, 5.8k, harry/louis, harry/louis/zayn. So many kinks!

I can feel you take control, Valentia, 9k, harry/omc. Sex club fishnets!

shit, i still love you (still see you in my bed), wankerville, 10k, harry/louis. Gold booties!

Cause lately I've been craving more, Sisusen, 11k, harry/louis, harry/omc. Silverfox kinks!

you're stumbling like the nazarene, sarcasticfluentry, 13k, harry/louis. Sequel to "no orgasms for lent"!

All you can eat., harrysprostate., 17k, harry/louis. Vampires!

Habits, orphan_account, 18k, harry/louis. Slutty housewife!

if you keep holding me this way, thepriesthinksitsthedevil, 22k, harry/louis. Sex club!

Canon Compliant BDSM, @sadaveniren, 24k, harry/louis. Is as it says!

Pastel, @fournipplesau, 44k, harry/louis. Sexy AU series!

A Day in the Life, thepriesthinksitsthedevil, 44k, harry/louis. Louis's bratty princess!

Look Good for You, heatandflowers, 48k, harry/liam, harry/niall, harry/louis, harry/omc. A "modeling" company!

hand over, crybaby, 60k, harry/louis, harry/ben, harry/rest of band. Sex list!

You were a beam of light, lit up by my broken sky, CuckooTrooke/ @larrydoinglaundry, 84k, harry/louis. Kink discovery!

#fic rec #one direction #god i want to know what i can tag this as so i can find it again #plowed #maybe that'll work

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