Crack Ficlet: Trials of a Teenage Deity
Dec. 5th, 2011 03:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rheasilviaTitle: Trials of a Teenage Deity
Author: Sylvia /rheasilvia
Pairing: Christ/Christ
Rating: PG-13
Note: This cracky ficlet is the result of a conversation I had withglitterburn about one of my pet peeves - that fannish authors will persist in using "mein Leib" as a translation for "my love". I feel like I should apologize. Uhm. Sorry?
Warning: Do not read if you are Christian and likely to be offended by irreverence.
The worst part of incarnating was puberty.
Actually, no. In truth, the worst part of incarnating was dying. However, dying was more straightforward; it was a trial impossible to forget.
Puberty was a more subtle trial, and tended to catch him off-guard. It was deceptively easy to forget the horrors of a face full of suppurating pimples, desperate sexual frustration, and general humiliation. Not to mention that the raging hormones tended to influence the brain.
There was a small sound from the sacristy, and Jonas scrambled for the pews, taking cover.
Jonas had not broken into the church, of course – it was his house, after all. Neither could he be said to be stealing his own body. He was entirely justified in his actions.
Nevertheless. He very much did not want to have to explain himself.
Fortunately, he did not have to. He escaped unseen not five minutes later, a small stack of consecrated wafers in hand, and went straight home to bed.
It was really nothing more than masturbation. There was no harm in it.
"Mein Leib," Jonas whispered passionately, overcome.
Silently, the consecrated wafers moaned.
A note of explanation:
Though frequently used as the translation for "my love", "mein Leib" actually means "my body", and is part of the ritual words spoken during the Eucharist in Catholic Mass.
Incidentally, "mein Lieb" does not work as a translation of "my love", either.
Author: Sylvia /
rheasilviaPairing: Christ/Christ
Rating: PG-13
Note: This cracky ficlet is the result of a conversation I had with
glitterburn about one of my pet peeves - that fannish authors will persist in using "mein Leib" as a translation for "my love". I feel like I should apologize. Uhm. Sorry? Warning: Do not read if you are Christian and likely to be offended by irreverence.
The worst part of incarnating was puberty.
Actually, no. In truth, the worst part of incarnating was dying. However, dying was more straightforward; it was a trial impossible to forget.
Puberty was a more subtle trial, and tended to catch him off-guard. It was deceptively easy to forget the horrors of a face full of suppurating pimples, desperate sexual frustration, and general humiliation. Not to mention that the raging hormones tended to influence the brain.
There was a small sound from the sacristy, and Jonas scrambled for the pews, taking cover.
Jonas had not broken into the church, of course – it was his house, after all. Neither could he be said to be stealing his own body. He was entirely justified in his actions.
Nevertheless. He very much did not want to have to explain himself.
Fortunately, he did not have to. He escaped unseen not five minutes later, a small stack of consecrated wafers in hand, and went straight home to bed.
It was really nothing more than masturbation. There was no harm in it.
"Mein Leib," Jonas whispered passionately, overcome.
Silently, the consecrated wafers moaned.
A note of explanation:
Though frequently used as the translation for "my love", "mein Leib" actually means "my body", and is part of the ritual words spoken during the Eucharist in Catholic Mass.
Incidentally, "mein Lieb" does not work as a translation of "my love", either.
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Date: 2011-12-05 05:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-05 06:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-05 06:17 pm (UTC)