#sorry for any incoming bullshit

[sinnamonstache]

Didnt mean to rb that *here* but i guess consider that my greeting… i guess i am back

[snailsandstrawberries]

going insane (again) i have an exam in three days and i wanted to start studying and i went through everything we need to know in an hour. AN HOUR. pathetic excuse of a class holy shit

[redhotarsenic]

Man imagine whining because I called you a moron when you’re in fact being a moron

[medicasino]

ive just accepted im just never going to fit cleanly into any label or community ever

[jtownraindancer]

for some reason that makes me think of when I worked front desk for B[redacted]n hotel chain. They refused to hire enough staff, and it wasn't uncommon for me to pull 16-hour shifts.

when I'd finally get home for a few blessed hours of sleep, one of the other receptionists would call me asking me some of The. Dumbest. Questions. which, hey, okay. I'm an understanding person. there was a lot to do there and keep tabs on. so I'd answer the questions, printed out helpful logs and charts and step-by-step binders for different things (night audit, laundry, breakfast set-up & tear down, resetting room keys, printing out housekeeping schedules, navigating crazy knife-weilding abusive exes of housekeeping staff out of the hotel without getting someone stabbed, replacing the soap in the bathrooms, etc etc).

but after about 3 months of making only $8/hour and running on 4 hours of sleep a night (if I was lucky) I finally said fuck it.

I had reached the point when I was very seriously considering Harming Myself so I would admitted into the hospital, and let me have a few days away from the place.

they fucked me over on taxes; they never withheld a single CENT from my paychecks (in spite of my W4s), but luckily the paid interest on my student loans balanced me back. they offered no insurance of any kind. they were truly no benefits whatsoever. and they didn't offer lunch breaks.

working in amerikkka is a fucking nightmare, and I would kill for even half the protections and privileges so many of these other nations get.

all lunch breaks should be paid im serious. im not even enjoying this im literally just making sure i dont pass out or something. this is part of The Job as far as im concerned

[balljointedjester]

i think we all need to keep in mind there are real people who genuinely wholeheartedly believe that misandry / androphobia on its own is a thing. these people exist and unironically hold these opinions and most of them don't think it with any sort of nuance or real consideration beyond "sometimes people are mean to me specifically for being a man."

men of color and queer men and trans men and men who don't fit hyperspecific ideas of what a man "should be" are not oppressed for being men, they're oppressed for not fitting those hyperspecific ideas. come on now.

[atebyflowers]

toxic!dealer!ellie who favourites you over everyone else, yet refuses to make your relationship offical. one in the morning parked outside of a gas station, rain drops falling outside the smoke-fogged windows, tears streaming down your face, your head laying on her shoulder — she's rolling another blunt and rubbing your thigh in an attempt to make you calm down. "i know baby, i'm sorry" she rasps out, dragging the blunt to her lips before placing it between yours. "you're not sorry" you choke out, sniffling as your wiped away your own tears with the sleeves of the sweater ellie lenses you whenever you smoked together. She sighed at your words in slight annoyance, trying to keep her tone relaxed — she leaned back further in her seat as she watched you clear your eyes, taking the blunt from your hands before speaking. "there's nothing to cry about y/n, you knew this from the start" she replied, taking another hit.

holding your face in your hands for a moment — in the limited space, you turn to face her. your eyes puffy and red, hers identical though for a different reason — she lets out another sigh before sitting up to be closer to you. your faces closer than ever, she places the half smoked blunt back on the tray before moving her hands to caress your cheeks. Giving into her touch, you let your eyes close for a moment taking in the feeling of her.

"you know why it's like this... can't lose business" she'd remind you. something everyone had reminded you. your friends called you an idiot for getting involved with her in the first place, insisting she was nothing more than a fuck girl who bribed every pretty girl she came across with free weed. constantly reminding you that she wasn't willing to settle down, that she needed to be available so girls would keep buying from her thinking they had a chance — just to end up fucked before she moves onto the next. with you, it was different in your mind. she never persuaded you the way she did with the other girls. with you, she spoke gently. never pushing for anything more than what you wanted. always prioritizing your needs over her own, something even your friends didn't believe at first.

yet, despite any of this — you weren't hers. you could never be hers she warned you from the beginning. ellie insisted it was nothing more than a friendship, telling you anything more would ruin her income. "then why do you keep me around" you spoke just above a whisper, her hands still placed on each side of your face. "i don't get it ellie. we've fucked so many times.... so many fucking times. you've got everything you needed. why do you keep bringing me back?" your eyes began to water again — ellie scoffing "you can't put all of the blame on me" she says, "you run when i call y/n". and with those words your laughing in disbelief. "god ellie you know why the fuck i come back" you raise your tone, ellies eyes locked on you as you push her hands away from your face — ellie letting you before she slightly guides your chin back to face her. "look at me" she breathes out and you obey — tears blurring your eyes. "you have more of me than anyone else..." she informs, using her thumb to catch the single tear you let fall. "isn't that enough?" she questions, her tone seeking your cooperation.

with her desperate eyes piercing through your body, you stood no chance playing against her games tonight. it was tiring to say the least, but everything in your body craved her. even if she wasn't yours — she was right. you had more of her than anyone, you should cherish it while it lasts. pleased as you give in, she kisses your temple before brushing your hair out of your face. "i'm yours right now" she adds on, "be mine right now" she states, you staring up at her with wide yet drained eyes. "are we done with this bullshit now baby?" "got it all out?" she questions, her tone almost mocking you. embarrassed, you simply nod, pulling yourself into her embrace. "atta girl" ellie praises, placing kisses on the top of your head as you conceal your remaining tears by burying urself into her body — back at square one.

[activesplooger]

ᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴄᴏᴠᴇʀ | ᴠᴏx x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ᴀᴜ | ʜᴀᴢʙɪɴ ʜᴏᴛᴇʟ

ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: (MDNI) FUCKING FINALLY THIS SHITS DONE I CAN REST. also there's a scene in this directed towards false healings performed and idk if it seems cringe believe me i know but that shit actually goes on so I thought i should include it

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You're a woman in the 1950s who's aspiring to be a journalist. However, it's hard to enter the workforce as a woman. Your boss presents you with the opportunity of a lifetime to do an undercover expose on a cult in your area! However, as you dive deeper into the church you get more than you bargained for.

ᴄᴡ: religious themes, cults, sexism, manipulation, false "healings", mental breakdown, drugging, dubious consent, penetration, nsfw, and barf

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 10,256 (sorry)

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀᴘᴏꜱᴛ!

So the situation's this, it's 1955, and you're trying to make a name for yourself in the journalism industry. You currently work for the New York Times... as a secretary. Though you offer the same— if not better— credentials as the men who write "hard-hitting pieces", you were overlooked, as many women are in the workforce.

Why have you working when you can be a pretty face for everyone to see? It's bullshit, really. However, you were in no position to complain about where your income comes from, so you took the job. Something's gotta pay the rent, even if it killed you to watch everyone doing your dream job. That's supposed to be you working at your passion, not the under-qualified men who make more effort in hitting on you than on their writing.

You're currently perched on your chair, chin in hand, as you stare blankly at the rotary phone, waiting for it to ring. Your bored expression seemed to say "Come over and condescend me!", or at least that's what one douche seemed to think.

A cocky co-worker strides over to your desk, clad in a tacky blue suit and a coffee-stained tie. He stands in front of your desk and chuckles, "What's wrong, sweetheart? Chip a nail?". Taking a deep breath, you restrain yourself from kicking him in the balls (if he even had any), "Just waiting for the phone to ring.". The man rests his elbows on your desk, "C'mon, where's that smile? You'd be so much prettier with one.". You bite the inside of your cheek, restraining your instinct of telling this guy off. Instead, you plaster on a strained smile. "There she is!" he chuckles, walking off to his desk.

As soon as he's out of sight, your smile drops instantly. "Stupid piece of fucking shit... hope he chokes on a fucking cock," you mutter to yourself, letting your anger simmer as you bounce your leg agitatedly.

The whole situation mulls over in your head, how could you allow your life to come to this? Reduced to your gender, working at a job where you're nothing but a pretty face... You wish things were different, but what could you do? Your eyes flicker to the head editor's office door that's practically calling your name.

You know that you're destined for more. What's the worst that could happen if you just ask? So what if they fire you? There are plenty of other secretary positions open anyway. Hesitantly, you get up from your chair and march over to the editor's office, knocking on the door with a shaky hand, "Mr. Anderson, sir?". "Come in," the familiar raspy voice responds.

Straightening out your skirt, you push the door open and smile. "Kitten," he exclaims, "what brings a pretty face like you in here? Dont'cha have phones to attend to?". You shake your head, "No, the line's empty as of now, I actually wanted to talk to you about-". "Talk talk talk, that's all you women do," he states, "that and drain men's wallets!". Mr. Anderson cackles, leaning back in his chair as he laughs himself to tears. "Hah... yeah... funny," you say flatly. "Oh, c'mon, it's just a joke, you women are so sensitive," his laughter dies down, "now, what'd you need to talk about?".

Taking a deep breath, you steal yourself for the moment ahead, this was your chance. Don't blow it. "Well," you begin, "remember when I interviewed here? I originally wanted to work here as a journalist.". The old man nods, leaning forward on his desk and giving you an intimidating look as he stares you dead in the eyes. You swallow nervously, "Y-Yes, well, I wanted to follow up on that.". "On what?". "On my position here at the company as a journalist, not a secretary," you state firmly, standing up straighter as you try not to let his intimidating stare get to you. Mr. Anderson sighs and leans back in his chair, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, "I don't understand, you're a fine secretary.". "I know," you defend, "but I wanna be more, I know I can be more than this! I went to college and was one the only woman to get accepted into the journalism program!".

Sighing softly, you plead with him, hoping he'll show a shred of humanity, "I can do this, I just need the opportunity.". He groans, "You're a pain in my ass sometimes.". "But," he reaches into a filing cabinet and hands you a file labeled "THE SIGNAL DOMINION", "you're very persistent, and annoyin', so here.". You grab the file, and your face lights up, "Thank you so much, sir! You won't regret this!". "I better not," he says while lighting a cigar. "I want you to write an exposé on a cult run by a man named Vincent Oren Xavier, are you familiar with him?". You shake your head no. "Doesn't matter," he dismisses. "Everything you need to know is in that file. Now I'll need you to go undercover for this, pretend your some type of damsel in distress that's looking for a new church or some crap, I dunno," he huffs out a puff of smoke, causing you to cough and waft the air in front of you.

"Don't be gettin' all high and mighty because I gave ya this piece though," he states while waving his cigar, "I've only given ya this to shut yer trap, got it?". "Yes, sir" you nod, "thank you.". Walking out, you close the door softly behind you and skip happily to your desk. You set the file on your lap, squealing happily as you read the contents.

The gist was that some guy got people to join his cult by luring them in with charms and keeping them there through manipulation. Their leader, Vincent, managed to escape the crimes for his obvious exploitation through some dumb loopholes in the law; what a great country we live in.

After work, you head home and plop onto your bed with a pen and paper, jotting down your plan for the exposé. Your cover would be that of a widow who had just recently lost her husband who's looking to a higher power after such a great loss. You figured you could still be a secretary; just don't mention that it's for the New York Times, that'd definitely blow your cover. For the entire night, you work on your plan, devising every piece of your fake identity to the T.

The morning light shines through your windows, causing you to stir. You lift your head off the notebook you had been jotting on all night and stretch your arms over your head. A smile stretches across your face, today is the start of your new career. Springing out of bed, you rummage in your drawers for the perfect outfit: a dark navy sheath dress that landed just below your knee and black babydoll heels. You styled your hair into classy victory rolls and smudged your makeup around your eyes just a tad to portray the look that you had been crying. After all, you'd just "lost your husband". Who wouldn't be crying?

__

Following the directions in the file led you to the parking lot of a church. In big, bold letters were the words "The Signal Dominion Church of Christ" plastered on the front of the building. The top of the building held a cross and "Christ" was plastered in the name, so you assumed it was based on Christianity in one form or another. You were never really a religious person. However, you did have some background knowledge about it from being dragged to Sunday mass as a child.

Once you walk in, you seem to have caught the end of the service. The large church was littered with people, every seat was filled with some people having to stand. You observe in the back, the whole thing seems so intimidating and bizarre. The service ended with worship, and various repeated phrases stick out to you like "Trust him", only the "him" didn't seem to talk about a God, but rather Vincent. "Trust Vincent" seemed to be a common theme throughout the sermon.

The whole thing sent a shiver through your spine, a bad feeling settling in your stomach. Once the service ends, a lady with a beaming smile approaches you, "Hi!". "Oh hi," you respond softly. "I don't think I've seen you around. Are you new here?" she asks, her smile never faltering even for a second.

"Oh yes, I just wanted to peak in, sorry," you reply shakily. You really hoped she bought your act. The woman chuckles and waves a dismissive hand, "No problem! What brings you here?". "Well, I recently lost my husband from a car accident," you begin, mustering up a few fake tears that reluctantly roll down your cheek, "and it's just been really taxing on me. I've been perusing local churches to hopefully lift that weight off me, and that's how I stumbled here I guess.". "You poor thing," the woman puts a hand over her heart, "I'm sorry to hear that. My name's Evangeline, I'm an elder here at the church.".

"Nice to meet you," you shake her hand gently, "I'm Y/n.". She takes your other hand in hers and holds them softly, confusion crossing your features as she does so, "Well, Y/N, I want to pray for you.". "Oh! Alright, sure"

She prays over you and your situation, ending it with "Amen" and releasing your hands. She looks you softly in the eyes, "How would you like to come to our service next week? I'll save you a seat myself!". "Really? That's so kind, thank you, I'd be happy to" you smile back at her.

You say your goodbyes and head back to your place, taking in what you had learned. Service starts at 8am sharp, and you knew nothing about Vincent.

When you get home, you kick off your heels and sit on your couch with a sigh. You'd barely learnt anything and you couldn't really go undercover for another week.

__

You arrive at work a few hours later, knocking on the editors office before coming in. "What's the scoop?" he asks in his usual hoarse voice. "Well, I didn't learn too much... Seems to be based on trusting the cult leader, and the people seem nice-" you reveal, hoping that he wouldn't blame your lack of evidence on your gender.

Mr. Anderson sighs, "Look, Kitten, since it's your first time doing something like this I'm not gonna yell at'cha. But listen up, if you wanna go undercover, you've gotta be a little persistent. Do a bit of digging rather than sittin' on yer ass and waiting for the oppurtunity to present itself!". "Im sorry, but-".

"No "buts"," he interrupts, "now get back to your desk and work. "Oh about that, do I have a different desk now or?" you ask. "Kitten, this project stays between you and I. Any writin' gets done on your own time. You're still a secretary after all; However, if you do good on this assignment I'll consider hirin' you full time," he explains. You nod and thank him for his time before exiting, walking back to your secretary's desk disheartened.

You slump in your chair with a sigh, eyes fixed on your lap. The cocky coworker from yesterday strides up to your desk, "Hey! Where's that sm-". Snapping your head up, you interrupt him with a glare, "Ask about my smile one more time I swear to God.". He scoffs at you and walks off muttering, "Sheesh, is it that time of the month?". You drag a hand down your face and sign.

__

The next week slowly rolls by, filled with monotonous work and vague research you found from other news articles and stories. But today, maybe you could finally get somewhere.

You put on your Sunday best, a blue pinstripe dress paired with tan stockings and short white pump heels. With the help of curlers and a ton of gel, you fashion your hair into cute pin up curls that framed your face just right.

Once you finish prettying yourself up, you grab your keys and head out of your apartment.

__

You arrive at church early today, making sure you get a good seat for today's service. As you walk in, you see the room already bustling with people eager to get a seat. In the corner of your eyes, you see Evangeline waving her arms and patting the seat beside her. Upon walking up to her, she greets you with a big hug, eliciting an "oomph" from you at the sudden embrace. "I'm so happy you came!" she squeals excitedly. "Yeah, of course, thanks for saving me a spot," you reply. She lets go and leads you to your seats.

As you sit down, she turns to you with a grin, "Today's supposed to be a great message!". "Oh yeah?" you say, turning to her, "what's it about?". "Letting go of your earthly bonds and submitting to Him!". Your eyebrow raises, "Him?" Who's-". She cuts you off by pointing up towards the sky. "Ah, you meant God, right sorry," you reply with a slight chuckle.

"Oh, I almost forgot to mention, Father Vox won't be preaching today, unfortunately," she mentions with a slight frown. 'Vox?' you think to yourself, you hadn't heard any mention of a Vox before. You thought Vincent was the head honcho here, wouldn't the cult leader usually preach? "Who's Vox?" you ask quietly.

"Oh! He's the best," she gushes, "he's the head preacher around here. He opened my eyes to the lies I was once forced to concede to.". Tilting your head, you furrow your eyebrows and speak in a confused tone, "The lies?". Evangeline nods, "Yup, he taught me the meaning of life. If it weren't for him, I would still be in contact with my oppressors!". "Your... oppressors?". "Mhm," she affirms, "my so-called family and friends all held me back from my true purpose.". A chill went down your spine. Your look of horror is met with Evangeline's placid expression, how could she be so calm? Doesn't she know she's being manipulated? "I'm sorry, what-" you're cut off by Evangeline shushing you. "It's starting!" she says with a wide grin.

Three altar servers walk down the aisle holding large candles, one wafting incense across the pews. Following behind them is a man dressed in white vestments. The sacred white robes feature intricate gold patterns sewn into the stole that loosely drapes over the priest's shoulders.

Once the priest approaches the altar. He lifts his arms up in the air and everyone stands up from their seat. You follow suit and stand up a bit delayed from everyone else. The altar servers set down the candles and sit on a wooden bench behind the altar. Looking up from the large bible on the podium, the mass commences, "The lord be with you.". "And with your spirit," the room responds simultaneously. You try to keep up with all the sayings, constantly falling behind at all the responsorials and prayers. Shit, you really wished you paid attention in mass when you were younger.

After countless prayers and songs, you're finally allowed to sit. The priest smiles and crosses his heart, "Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. Amen.". The members mutter an "amen" in response.

The priest walks in front of the aisle and claps his hands together with a big smile, "How are we doing, everyone? As you can tell, Father Vox couldn't join us today, he's taking a day to be reverent with God. I'll be stepping in his place for today, some of you may know me as John, but today I'll be known as Father John.".

Father John starts off the homily with a routine message, love God and all that crap, it's the end of the sermon that seemed to rub you the wrong way. The priest paces down the pews, each step impassioned as he preaches, "And therefore I ask you, the people of the signal dominion, to follow your shepherd. Let him guide you in a guide-less world full of corruption and sin.".

Once again, the "him" mentioned seemed almost sinister. It didn't feel like they were talking about God, but perhaps Vincent- or maybe that Vox that Evangeline was talking about. As your mind races, the priest starts to shout, "Has he not done enough for us?!". "No!" the congregation calls out, some people clapping and cheering. "So then, why do we run astray? Why do we avoid his divine enlightenment?! Look at all he's done for us, he saved you from suffering!".

You look around at the people in the pews, eyes fixed in admiration at the speaker, not even a hint of skepticism on their expression. How did they not question what was happening to them?! A pit grows in your stomach, almost feeling angry at these people.

Father John stops yelling and makes his way back to the pew. Lifting his arms up, the people stand. "Let us pray," he calmly commands, his tone a stark contrast to his frustrated yell. He leads the church in a penitential prayer, which, again, you didn't know. The people recite, "Through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault.". Each "fault" is punctuated with a fist banged against one's chest. The practice, though not inherently sinister, leaves you feeling tense and guilty; the pit in your stomach starts to grow.

"I'd now like to call upon the Elders of the church to come forward and offer prayer to those who need it," people emerge from the pews and walk to the front of the church. Evangeline turns to you, "I'll be up there if you need me.".

Without Evangeline, you didn't have an in with the church. You felt out of place, not sure what to do as people pass you by to receive prayer. Taking a breath, you calm down and mutter quietly to yourself, "Be persistent, y/n.".

You walk out of your row and walk up to Evangeline, her ever-present bright smile plastered on her face. She takes your hands in hers, "I'm so glad you're here. What would you like to talk about.". "Well," you begin, racking your mind for what to say when suddenly, an idea pops up, "I was really hoping to be saved- like you were! By that guy you were talking about-". Evangeline tilts her head, "You mean Father Vox?". You nod, eliciting a thoughtful look on her face. "He is taking time to be with God today... but, m-maybe if I told him your testimony he would meet with you!". "You think so?" you ask hopefully, excitement filling the pit in your stomach. This could be your chance.

Evangeline nods frantically and takes both your hands in hers, "Let us pray. Dear God,-".

__

After the sermon, Evangeline led you upstairs to a sector of the church where only church officials and clergy were allowed. She approaches a door labeled "Father Vox" in big gold letters. "Wait here," she gestures towards a chair beside the door. Evangeline knocks on the door. "Come in," a deep voice responds.

The door clicks shut, leaving you alone in the creepy church corridor. You can hear the faint sound of an organ playing a hymn from downstairs, along with the ticking of the grandfather clock beside you. The room is cold, freezing almost- creating a tense atmosphere in the supposedly "welcoming church".

You fixate your gaze on your lap, tapping your feet incessantly on the group as you wait. Time passes slowly as you wait, focusing on fidgeting with your hands to occupy yourself.

Finally, the door swings open and Evangeline walks out. She holds the door open for you with a soft smile, "Father Vox would like to see you.". "O-oh! Great!" you get up from your seat and nod at her while walking in.

__

Seated at the desk is a handsome man with black hair and separate eye colors; one eye color being blue and the other being brown. A white scar streaks down across his blue eye going from his eyebrow to his cheekbone. He's dressed in navy blue vestments with red patterns sewn into the stole, similar to the patterns on Father John's.

You take a seat across from him, a tight-lipped grin stretching across your face to match his charming smile. On his desk are books labeled "T.S.D Bible," along with other religious paraphernalia. Perched front and center in a name placard displaying the words, "Father Vincent Oren Xavier - Head priest".

The pieces start to click together in your head. Vincent Oren Xavier, V,O, X - That must be the Vox Evangeline was talking about! Your snapped out of your thoughts as he speaks.

"Well, you must be the famous y/n I've been hearing about!" he finally says, his voice booming and upbeat. "That's me," you squeak out.

"Elder Evangeline told me all about your story, I'm so sorry to hear that, my dear," though expressing his sympathy, his smile remains unwavering. "It's fine, it led me here so-". "And we're happy to welcome you with open arms!" he exclaims with a chuckle.

You knit your hands together in your lap anxiously, "-Actually, I had a few questions.". "Oh?" he raises an eyebrow, "by all means, go ahead.".

"Well, Father," you begin, "what does this church believe exactly?". "My dear, we here at Signal Dominion are our sector of Christianity. Are you familiar with Christianity?". You nod, "I was raised Catholic.". "And as of lately?" he raises an eyebrow. "Not so much," you admit.

He nods and hums in acknowledgment softly, "No worries, we accept all that are willing to join.". "Good, good... What exactly makes this church different from a Christian church?". His smile seems to grow at your question, his tone full of confidence as he answers, "The Signal Dominion is special, the other denominations have lost their way, been too lax on God's plan for humanity.".

You lean forward in your chair, "And that plan is?". "To be saved, of course!" he grins. "Right, right," you exhale softly, "and how do you get saved?".

"Follow the church, and you'll see," Father Vox extends his hands to you, gesturing for you to hold them. You reach out and take his surprisingly soft and large hands in yours. "We can save you here, my child," he squeezes your hands, "you won't have to feel this dread upon you any longer. Don't go back to your old life, once you join the church, it's the first day of your eternal life, free of sin and grief.".

"Okay," you reply softly, hiding your internal excitement at the prospect of getting more info. Vox prays over you, eyes fixed shut as he asks God to "take away your grief"- as if grieving was an inherently bad thing. Vox commences the prayer with an "amen" and opens his eyes, gazing at you softly, "Come to our Wednesday night mass, I think you'll find it empowering.". "Oh, alright- I'd love to," you reply softly.

His hands linger for a moment before pulling away, "I'll see you Wednesday then.". You smile and nod goodbye before exiting his office.

Shutting the door behind you, you lean against it, breathing heavily as a smile stretches across your face. You did it, you're in.

__

The following days were spent working as a secretary by day and a journalist by night. Lately, your normal job didn't seem as horrible as before. You showed a renewed interest in life; every guy who would be sexist toward you was met with a smile and a nod. All you needed was the comforting notion that one day, they'd work with you. You felt comforted as you imagined the looks of horror on their smug faces as they realized that you're gonna work with them. All that good karma was coming back to you.

Currently, you're getting ready for Wednesday night mass. You fashioned your hair into loose, brushed-out waves that draped elegantly over your shoulders paired with a modest white shirtwaist dress. Once ready, you leave your apartment and head to the church.

When you walk in, you see the church booming with people. The congregation is dancing and singing as people play music on stage, a huge difference from the reverent mass you saw just a few days ago. In the crowd of people, you spot Evangeline singing and clapping in the front row of pews.

You walk up to her and wave, "Good to see you!". She greets you with a big hug, "Father Vox told me everything! Welcome to the signal dominion!". You smile at her enthusiasm, "Thanks for getting me a talk with him, I owe it all to you, honestly.". She shakes her head, "It's not me, it's you. Father Vox chose you specifically, you're special.". You open your mouth to speak but are cut off by everyone cheering as they turn their attention to the center aisle.

Father Vox jogs down the aisle, no altar servers present in front of him. This seemed to be a way more casual sermon than the "usual" Sunday mass. He goes up to the podium and speaks into the mic, "Welcome, my children, take a seat.". The people scatter into the pews excitedly and wait expectantly for Vox to speak.

He crosses his heart, "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Peace be with you.". "And with your spirit!" the room calls out cheerfully. "I'd like to start tonight's service by giving a hand to our amazing worship team!" he gestures his arms out wide to the small band exiting the stage. The church erupts in cheering with the whole congregation clapping and shouting praise.

Vox holds his hands up, and suddenly, the room quiets, "Tonight, we have an important sermon –one about taking a leap of faith, and putting your whole being into the Church. Let us pray.". He leads the church in the Nicene Creed, his deep charismatic voice carrying through the whole building.

"Amen."

He takes the microphone stick in hand and carries it with him as he walks down the pews, "You know, I was talking to God yesterday-" some people cheer at that, eliciting a wider smile from Vox. His expression flattens, and he turns more serious, "And he told me how distraught he was.". The people murmur sorrowfully, some looking down at the ground with guilt as if it was their fault.

Walking up, he gets close to the pews and starts to speak in people's faces, "I am trying to lead humanity to salvation, and all I see is neglect and evil in this world... even from some people in this community.". A few people get spiteful looks from other members; it was as if Vox is trying to pit the people against each other. Have others hold each other accountable for their "wrong doings".

Vox walks back to the podium and sets the microphone down, dragging his hands down his face to dramatically express his despondency. The sermon felt like a performance, almost theatrical in the way Vox was acting. He takes his hands off his face and sighs,

"As some of you may know, I didn't preach on Sunday. I was in despair, so much so that I couldn't preach-". The congregation gasps and murmurs. "Then suddenly, God appeared and said, "My son, you will guide these people!" he starts to yell, pointing aggressively at the crowd, "You will lead these sheep to pasture for you are there sheperd!".

The room claps and cheers, increasingly encouraging him to keep ranting, "Don't let yourself be ruled by fear, that's the devil talking! I was lifted up by the Lord! And now you will be too!". He points at an elderly woman in a wheelchair, a woman you hadn't seen before at past sermons, "You there! I command you, with the power of the Lord to STAND UP!".

The lady struggles, insisting she can't do it. "I SAID STAND UP!" he commands, throwing his arms up to motion her out of her chair. You watch in horror as this wheelchair-bound woman is forced out of her chair. After struggling, the lady springs out of her chair and walks around with a celebratory lap around the pews.

The room is filled with shouting praise and cheer, people rising from their seats and crying with joy. You stay sitting, your body frozen as you try to comprehend what the fuck you just saw. Obviously, it was bullshit, but seeing all these people getting roped further into Vox's lies made you want to puke. The once excited feeling of going undercover gets replaced with dread. How could you treat these poor people like a story? Shouldn't you be helping them?!

Your stomach starts to ache at the sight. While people around you rejoice in the "miracle" that happened before their eyes, you sit there, staring blankly ahead of you.

__

The sermon lasted hours. Vox would go on rants about how the church is under attack and we must fight back against them. You found yourself nodding off only to be woken by Vox yelling.

The sermon finally concluded, and people quickly shuffled out of the building. You were a bit delayed in your movements, grabbing your purse drowsily and slowly walking out of the pews. A hand grabs at your shoulder. You turn around and see Evangeline with a tired smile on her face, "Father Vox would like to talk to you in his office.". Great. Sighing softly, you force a polite smile and nod, "Thanks.".

__

The stairs creak as you walk up the spiral staircase to Vox's office, the already tense atmosphere becoming even creepier at night. You're instantly waken up by the freezing temperature. You quickly jog to his office and knock hastily, not wanting to wait a second longer in the corridor.

"Come in, my dear."

You push the door open to reveal the dark office illuminated by candles on Vox's desk. His handsome features still displayed even in the dim light of the room, "Have a seat.". Taking a seat across from him, he gazes at you for a moment, studying your features. Exhaling softly, he speaks, "God was telling me about you.". You raise an eyebrow, "He... He was?".

He smiles softly, "He told me you're special... you're different from everyone else. I think you will do great here.". "I hope so," you smile wearily back at him. You really couldn't even bear to look at him anymore. Part of you wanted to scream in his face cry all at once, but what good would that do? He knows what he's doing is wrong, he doesn't need someone telling him what he already knows.

Vox tilts his head at you, "I hope we didn't scare you off with tonight's service.". Your eyes widen, "No, no-". He chuckles and holds up a hand to cut you off, "It's okay, don't lie. I understand how a healing service can be a bit intimidating for new members.". "It's okay, it was just... unexpected," you admit reluctantly.

Vox chuckles softly, "I bet. I know it all seems confusing and scary right now, but trust the church. Trust me, y/n. I think you can make it very high here in the church, maybe even an elder.". Whooo whoopdy doo you get to be an elder!!! You plaster on a fake smile, "I'd be honored.".

Rising from his seat, Vox walks over to behind your chair and places his hands firmly on your shoulders. He leans down and whispers softly, his voice smooth and charismatic, "I know right now everything seems chaotic, but it will all be over soon. You'll be safe here.". His words send a shiver to your spine, the "reassuring" words almost sounding threatening.

He releases you from his firm hold, and you exchange goodbyes, eager to get home after a long day. Kicking off your heels, you collapse onto your bed. You don't bother with writing tonight, that can wait for another day. For now, you let yourself debrief and rest. It's been a long day.

__

"Better," your boss states flatly, tossing your report back on his desk. "That- That's it?" you ask, frustrated, all that work for "better"? Mr. Anderson shrugs, "Look, it's a fine report. But we're not looking for "fine." Here, let's put it this way... How did you feel when you saw what was happening to these people?". You tilt your head as you respond, "I felt... distraught and devastated and-". Your boss cuts you off. "Exactly!" he exclaims, poking your report as he speaks, "then show that in your writing. When I read this I feel nothing, it's just facts laid out in front of me. Put the reader in your shoes, I want you to make them feel like they're seeing what you're seeing.".

"How do I-" you squeak out before getting interrupted once more

"Sheesh, woman!" he groans, "Do I have to give you everything? Just- Here, go deeper. You said that this "Vox" guy said sum about "climbing ranks"?". You nod affirmatively. "Expand on that," he encourages, "climb the ranks, get the story. Got it?". You held your questions and feebly grab your report, "Yes, sir.".

__

You've really had to step it up. For the past few services, you've attended every single one, from the calm Sunday service to the bizarre Wednesday night ones. But, you hadn't really made any progress with diving deeper into the church as your boss suggested. Outside of sermons, you hadn't personally seen Vox since your eerie chat with him in his office. You thought you had a leg up when he called you "special," though looking back, that's probably what he says to everyone who joins the church.

This morning, you really were gonna step up your ass-kissing game to the church. You arrive an hour early to the Sunday service, dressed all prim and proper in a wine-red sheath dress. For the first time you've ever seen it, the church was completely empty. The once-packed pews are now completely devoid of any life, and yet, you had a strange feeling you weren't alone...

You ignore the strange feeling of eyes on you and approach the altar. Slowly, you kneel before it and get into a prayer position, eyes furrowed shut as you firmly clasp your hands together against your forehead. Just for good measure, you mutter "please God" under your breath every now and again. You felt a bit silly doing this, almost like a child playing pretend.

For about half an hour you knelt there, hoping your faux devotion would catch the eye of the higher ranks. Just as your knees were starting to give out, a large hand gently grabs hold of your shoulder, "Come with me.".

You open your eyes and see Vox standing behind you, a subtle smile across his sharp features. He offers a hand to you and helps you to your feet. Without another word, he swiftly turns and guides you upstairs to his office.

Once upstairs, he opens the door for you and gestures a hand out for you to walk in. The two of you take a seat, Vox smiles softly, "Don't think your actions have gone unnoticed, my dear.". Your heart rate quickens. Were you found out? "I've noticed your devotion, and so have the others.". You exhale softly, relieved that this wasn't some sort of shake-down. Tilting your head, you fake confusion, "My devotion?".

"Yes, the elders and I have noticed your piety towards the church. Out of all the members in the church, your efforts stand out," he chuckles softly and reaches into his desk, "I meant what I said when I called you 'special'.". Vox lifts his hand from the desk, a pretty gold beaded rosary necklace hangs off his index finger. You lean forward to get a better look at the jewelry, "What's that for?". "You," he gestures the necklace toward you, "to show my appreciation, you've become a model member of the church."

Taking the rosary from him, you marvel at the dainty intricacies of the necklace. It was real gold, from what you could tell, and not just plated either. Gold beads were strung along the dainty chain, and the apex held a pendant with the initials "T.S.D", a beaded chain hanging down from it. At the bottom of the chain hung a diamond-encrusted cross, the crystal shining brightly in the dim room. How did Vox have the money for this? Surely being head of a "church" couldn't make that much money, right? Whatever the reason was, you shouldn't accept gifts from a corrupt person paid with money from God knows where.

Your fingers run over the expensive jewelry, "I really can't accept this.". Vox tilts his head to the side, "Why not?". "Because its uhm," your hands clutch the necklace in your hand, you whisper under your breath, "really fucking expensive.". Snapping your head up to look at him with wide eyes, "Shit I mean- Wait sorry again- It's just-". Vox raises his eyebrows and chuckles, "No worries, you're forgiven."

Getting up from his desk, Vox strides over to you, gently releasing the necklace from your grasp, "Don't worry, the church paid for it. Besides, this isn't about money, think of it as a "thank-you" gift.". His hands brush your hair to the side and deftly clasp the necklace around your neck from behind. He moves back in front of you and clasps his hands together, "Lovely."

Glancing at the clock, Vox excuses himself to get ready for the sermon and you leave shortly after for the service.

__

A few weeks have passed since your surprise gift, and ever since then, Vox has kept an eye on you. There would be moments when his eyes would meet yours during a sermon, almost as if he was speaking directly to you. Part of you hated how much you liked the attention, Vox was the only man in your life who treated you decent, even if he was using you to further his agenda and grow his cult. The other part of you was terrified by it.

With all the close attention to you, you have to be extra careful to not let your true intentions slip. One mistake, and it's over for you. No career, and hell, Vox would probably kill you to keep that story from coming out.

It's currently Saturday night, you had gone to bed early for the morning service and were sound asleep. The loud trill of your home phone wakes you in a panic. You snap up into a sitting position and exhale softly after realizing that it wasn't some type of alarm.

After stretching, you hop out of bed and walk to the kitchen as the phone blares, "Jesus Christ, shut up...". Grabbing the phone off the wall, you pick up the phone and speak gravelly, "Hello?".

"Good morning!" a familiar voice responds, "I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time.". "Uh, I'm sorry, who is this?" you question, leaning against the wall to support your exhausted body. "This is Vox," he responds. Oh shit! You perk up instantly and hold the phone closer to you, "Oh! Vox! Uh, good morning... h-how'd you get this number?". "Anywho," he ignores with a cheerful tone, "I just wanted to call and let you know about tomorrow's sermon.".

Pushing off the wall, you pace in a small circle around your kitchen, "What about tomorrow's sermon?". "I just wanna make sure you'll be there, I can count on you, right?". "Yeah, of course-" the cord yanks you back softly as it stretches to its max. "ow fuck-" you mutter. "What was that?" the voice asks. "Nothing! Uh, I'll see you tomorrow, bye!" you stammer out, slapping your palm to your forehead in embarrassment.

The phone clicks in its spot on the wall and you cover your face in exhaustion and mortification at your slip-up. You really had to work on your cussing if you were gonna sell this whole "widowed church girl" persona. Whatever that's tomorrow's problem, you're too delirious to function right now.

__

After a pathetic night's rest of tossing and turning, you wake up and head to church. Sitting in the center front pew, you save a spot for Evangeline. You've grown quite fond of her over the past few months, and although she was a little church-crazy, she's been nothing but welcoming to you. Evangeline skips over to you with a wide grin, "Y/N!". "Hey!" you greet her with a hug and chat a bit before the sermon begins.

The lights dim as the mass starts, candles illuminating the walkway as the altar servers walk to the altar. Vox follows behind them, his hands folded in a prayer position. His eyes meet yours, giving you a soft smile. Your lips subconsciously twitch up into a grin as you see him. You snap your head back up to the stage once you realize what you were doing, no time for making eyes at a literal fucking cult leader. Sure, he's attractive, but he's a psychopath! 'get it together, y/n,' you say to yourself.

Vox approaches the podium and goes over the routine responsibilities and creeds. "Good morning," he says into the mic, his voice booming through the large church. "Good morning," the congregation responds. "Today is a special sermon," he begins, "many of you have such courageous testimonies of how you entered the church! And some of you have so graciously offered to share your stories today-". People start exiting the pews and lining up on the stage. Vox smiles and gestures one of them up to the pew. The woman smiles softly as he speaks into the podium's microphone, "I first found out about the church when...".

__

The testimonies droned on for about an hour. Each testimony, though intended to ignite a fire in your faith, made your stomach churn. Hearing about these people who once had great lives, leaving them in a time of darkness, cutting everyone off, all for the hope of having a purpose in the church. A tear trickled down your cheek as you listened to people fall deeper into the cult. If only they knew their "salvation" would be their downfall.

As the last person wrapped up their story, the congregation erupted in applause and cheer. Vox retakes the stage and speaks into the mic, "Thank you, everyone, for those beautiful stories... and I'd like to invite one more person, a new member, to share their story.". He gestures a hand out to you in the crowd, your face turning white. Fuck. Why wouldn't he ask you about this first? You already are mortified by public speaking, it's gonna take everything in you not to accidentally expose yourself.

Shakily, you arise from your seat, eliciting light applause from around you. Once you reach the podium, you clear your throat nervously, "H-Hi everyone.". Evangeline smiles proudly and gives you a thumbs up. You smile back at her and continue, "M-My story started when uhm my husband died. It was a really dark time for me and I just wanted to have hope again.". Fidgeting with your hands, you glance at Vox who gives you a condescending smile.

Standing up straighter, you speak more confidently into the microphone, "And then I found this church, and I was scared... really scared. But with the help of a lot of you here, I really found a purpose again. Thank you for everything, I'm glad I'm here.". You quickly exit the stage and plop in your seat. Evangeline immediately showers you in praise while you stare at the floor in mortification. __

The service goes on for another half hour or so. You're eager to leave, quickly getting up and grabbing your things once Vox ends the sermon. You just wanted to go home, relax, and take a bath- You've pushed yourself hard the past few weeks, maybe it's time to take a break from the story for a little bit.

And just as you're about to leave, a firm hand grasps your shoulder. "My dear, come with me for a moment," the familiar voice rings in your ear. Fuck! You sigh and oblige, not wanting to rouse any suspicion. Who knows what he would do if you denied him.

He leads you down the corridor and into his office, the door shutting behind you with a loud creek. You both sit down, Vox staring at you with his piercing multicolored eyes, "Your testimony was beautiful, dear.". You huff quietly to yourself, "Yeah, it was just- unexpected.". He chuckles, "Ah, I see, not a big public speaker?". You shake your head no. "I'm sorry you feel that way," he says somewhat apologetically.

Noticing your harsh stare as opposed to your usual submissive one, Vox sighs softly. "Here," he grabs a bottle and two glasses out of his desk and pops it open. He poured some of what looked like champagne into your glass and handed it to you. "Is this booze?" you raise an eyebrow. He flips the bottle over to reveal the "Sparkling Cider" Label. "Pft, oh," you chuckle softly and pick up the glass.

You clink your glasses together. "Cheers," he says, his rich voice sounding a bit husky. You take a sip, unaware of Vox's intent gaze on you as you drink the beverage. His gaze drifts to your necklace as you wipe the foam from the drink off your lips, "I see you're still wearing the necklace I gave you. I take it you like it?". "Oh, yeah," your hands move up to fidget with the cross pendant, "It's really nice, thanks again by the way.".

"No need to thank me," he states, laughing softly as his gaze wanders over your features, "It looks beautiful, my dear.". "Oh- Thank you," you try to cover the unwanted blush spreading across your face.

He sets the bottle down and rests his elbows on the desk, "You know, I think I owe you my testimony now that you shared yours.". You tilt your head, "Your testimony?".

He nods, "I didn't come from a good home. My father was- very abusive. And so was my mother. CPS must've investigated my parents a dozen times, but, they never convicted them of anything. Just chalked it up to parental punishment and me being a sensitive kid.".

Your eyebrows furrow in a sympathetic expression, "I had no idea I-". He cuts you off, "No, no, don't be sorry. That isn't the part I want you to focus on.". Vox leans closer over the desk, "Things only got worse as I got older. My parents were broke and only became more abusive over time...".

He gets up from his chair with an excited grin and walks over to you. "But then, God appeared to me and said, "Vincent, my son, I have bigger plans for you than this! Go forth and spread the good news!". And so I did! I took my old man's car and ventured out here, where I started the church.".

As he wraps up his testimony he looks at you excitedly, almost as if he is seeking approval like it was some kind of performance that he did. You flipped your cringe into a surprised grin, "Wow that's- that's incredible!". Taking another sip, you groan internally as he keeps going on about the "Son of God" bullshit.

__

As time goes on, you start to feel funny. Time didn't feel as though it were passing, but as you glance at the clock you realize that hours had passed. Vox’s voice starts to sound like he’s talking underwater, your main focus being the loud ringing in your ear.

You wince and cover your ears. Vox smiles, “Everything okay?”. “Ya its just hot in here,” you speech starts to slur, suddenly feeling a bit more free and loose lipped, “I wan leave but I also don’t… I dunno…”.

He chuckles softly, “Oh is that so?.”. “Yaa… I think imma just take a nappp,” you slump against the chair and close your eyes. The last thing you hear before passing out is a soft “perfect” whispered in your ear.

__

Your eyes flutter open, catching glimpses of the scene before you. Vox was driving you somewhere while you sat limp against the seat. You couldn’t move or talk very well, only being able to function through sight; it almost like being in a state of sleep paralysis. “Voxxx?” you mumble out. He pulls into a driveway and parks the car. “Hey there, doll,” he coos, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Where are we goin’?”. Vox unbuckles his seatbelt and hops out of the car. He opens the door and carries you out of the vehicle, “My house, you passed out. I just wanna keep an eye on you and make sure your okay.”. “mffkayyy,” you lean against his arm as he carries you inside.

The house before you is rather large with beautiful foliage out in the front that was well kept. Modern furniture decorated the lavish house with at least 3 TVs just in the downstairs area. “ ‘S a big house. Hows it so big I thought priests were poor,” you say absentmindedly.

He chuckles softly as he carries you up the grandiose staircase, “The people donate to the church to pay me.”. You scoff, “Pfftt, donate what? Half their fuckkinn’ salary.”.

“Language,” he reminds sternly, “and yes.”. He carries you into a large master bedroom, the same lavish furniture with crosses riddled all over the walls. “You can lay here,” he sets you down on the soft mattress. “Thanks Vox urr nicer than I thought you’d be,” you smile at him.

Stepping out of his shoes, Vox crawls onto the bed with you and sits beside you. His soft large hands reach out to cradle your face. Sleepily you lean into his touch. “Mmmm,” you hum into his palm.

His hands snake down from your face to your waist and hoist you onto his lap. Your neck is eagerly peppered with kisses, hands sliding up your dress and onto your bare thighs. For a moment, you lean into his touch, “Vox… Mmph.“.

While one hand massages your thighs, the other works to unzip your dress. The cold contact of metal onto your skin briefly brings you back to your senses, “Vox, wait, no- We can’t-.”.

“Shh,” he continues undressing you, “don’t worry, let me make you feel good.”. You feel too weak to stop him, eventually just giving into his actions. The dress slips down your shoulders and is slid off your body. He quickly discards his priest garments and other clothing on the floor.

Grabbing a thigh in each hand, Vox spreads your legs and hovers over you. His thick veiny cock presses up against his stomach, pre cum leaking from his tip down his shaft.

He slowly enters your dripping pussy, “Ah… There we go.”. “Mmph~ Oh god-,” you moan out, your vision getting a bit hazy. He stays still for a moment, allowing you to accommodate for his size.

After a minute he rolls his hips into you, establishing a steady rhythm. You stare blankly at the ceiling, only partly focused on the pleasure winding up in your core. Every now and again you’ll moan softly as you watch the room spin. You flicker in and out of consciousness, unaware of how much time has passed or how long Vox has been going.

Grunts escape his throat as he pistons into you, his pace become more erratic as he got closer to orgasm. You were close too, your hips weakly bucking into his. “Thats it,” he says breathlessly, looking you in your glazed over eyes. His hips start to slam into yours, sending waves of pleasure over you as you came.

Your a bit overstimulated as he continues chasing his own relief, drawing out whimpers and moans from you. “Hnnf, Hnnnff~,” His hips start to stutter until he finally fills you up with his seed. Once Vox pulls out you feel the cum dripping out of you.

Releasing his grip on your thighs, he lays down on the bed and pulls you into a spooning position. The last thing you feel before you succumb to sleep is the kiss Vox presses into your hair.

__

The next morning, you wake up around 10 with a pounding headache. Blinking your eyes open, you sit up abruptly. You were at home. “Vox?” you call out. No response. A hand shakily drags down your face, “F-Fuck… What have I done…?”. The weight of the situation sets in, mortification settling in your stomach.

Nausea washes over you and you quickly run out of bed to the bathroom. Leaning over the toilet you throw up. You remembered being sick last night, you remembered everything from last night.

On the floor of your bathroom, you hug your knees and bury your face in your hands. You just had sex with a cult leader… Sobbing softly, you mutter to yourself, “I can’t do this anymore…”.

You wipe your tears and march to your type writer where you hastily finish that god forsaken story. Every last detail was thrown in, well, except for last nights events…

You don’t care if it has a billion spelling mistakes, you just want this to finally be over. Even if some part of you liked Vox, you’d never admit it. You could never be with him.

Throwing on whatever clothes you had out, you grab the freshly typed papers and sprint to your car.

__

The doors of the NYT office building fling open as you burst through them. “Woah,” a coworker comments, “what’s got you so-.”. You cut him off, “Go fuck yourself.”. Fuck that, fuck him. You’re not taking that crap anymore. The worker stands there in embarrassment and shock. He scoffs and mutters something as he retreats to his desk.

You march into Mr. Johnsons office and hold the papers up in the air, “It’s done!”. Mr. Johnson covers the receiver of the rotary phone, “Hold on-“. “Please!” you plead, wanting this to be done and over. He ignores you. No, you demand to be taken seriously for once. You walk closer to his desk and snatch the phone from him and place it down to end the call. “Y/N!” he yells, “you can’t just-!”. “Mr. Johnson just please read it over!” you beg.

He groans, “Fine!”. He snatches the papers out of your hands and reads over the report for a few minutes. Once he’s done, he hands them back to you, “Great, thanks.”. He gets back to work after dismissing you.

“I-Is that all?” you ask, “what about my future here at the company?”. “Listen doll,” he slides the papers he was working on aside for a moment, “you have a future at the company as a secretary.”. “What?! I worked for mo-“. “Frankly I don’t care,” he interrupts coldly, “this was just something to keep you occupied so you’d stop bitching!”.

“Why would you promise me a job then?!” you defend, tears welling up in your eyes. Mr. Johnson sighs, “Jesus- It’s company policy not to hire women anyway! And look at you, you completed one story and you look a mess! Your cryin’, snappin’ at employees, and you look wrecked. Why have that when a man can easily complete a job without all this drama? Now get out!”.

“But I-“

“Out!”

Clutching the papers in your hands, you begrudgingly walk out of the office. You hear the whispering and light laughter of the employees as you walk out. Tears flow down your cheeks, walking faster until you out of sight from the ridicule.

Once your outside you lean against the wall of the building and sob into your hands. You shake as you let everything out. All of that, for nothing. You felt like nothing, a nobody. You look at the papers in your hands, the words angering you and causing you to rip them to shreds. People pass by you, but you ignore the stares at your public breakdown.

You pull a pack of cigarettes out of your purse and light one. You shakily inhale, and exhale the somewhat soothing smoke. “Oh God,” you whisper, burying your face in your hands.

__

You sit in your car for awhile, not sure where to go. Should you go home? No, you don’t want to just sit their and be sad. Your friends wouldn’t understand, you hadn’t even spoken to them since you started this project. You start the car, and as if your hands had a mind of their own, you mindlessly drive to Vox’s estate.

You weren’t exactly sure how you remembered to get their, but suddenly, you were in front of the large estate once again. As you hop out of the car, your legs almost seem to turn to jelly as they wobble and shake. Wobbly approaching the door, you ring the loud doorbell.

The grandiose door swings open, revealing Vox in more casual wear then you’d previously seen, “Y/N? What are you doing here? How’d you know where-“. You cut him off, “I-I remembered from yesterday, somehow…”. His face turns pale at the mention of yesterdays events, “Wait you remember- Nevermind, why are you here?”. You sniffle, tears flowing down your face once more, “I didn’t know where else to go.”.

“Shh shh, hey,” he pulls you into a hug, ”what’s wrong?”.

__

Vox had you settled onto settled against him on the couch. You told him everything that happened. He nods slowly as you finish your story, “I see… Those report papers are shredded right.”. “Yeah,” you sniffle, “I tore them up…I’m sorry.”.

“It’s okay, you’re forgiven,” he coos, “but why’d you come here?”. You shrug, "I didn't have anyone else to go to...". He nods and pulls you closer against him, "It's okay, you're here now. You're safe, trust me.".

"So, what now?" you ask softly, "are you gonna have me actually join the church now?". He chuckles softly, "Doll, you've already been in the church for a long time now. You just need to recommit your faith".

__

You had stayed with Vox for the past few weeks, listening to his guidance on how to live a happy and virtuous life. And it was working, you were happy. At first, you doubted everything. I mean this was surely a cult, right? Vox assured you that it wasn't, saying that "if your boss lied to you about your job as well, then why doubt that he lied to you about this being a "cult"?". He had a good point, and since then, you became a true follower of the church.

Vox had you cut off everyone, telling you that they were holding you back from your true potential. You believed him, they were holding you back.

The next few services had a whole new meaning for you, instead of judging them from an analytical perspective, you really engrossed yourself in the message. Vox was happy with your newfound piety, and planned to make you an elder of the church.

__

Becoming an elder requires a "swearing-in" ceremony in front of everyone. You were incredibly nervous, feeling sick to your stomach. Vox drove you to the church and felt your anxious energy, "Don't worry, my dear, everything will be fine.". You clutch your stomach, the car making you even more nauseous, "Vox I don't feel good...".

"It's just nerves, you'll be just fine," he softly reassures you, "let's pray on it, hm? Dear God,-".

__

You clutch Vox's hand tightly as he guides you onto the stage, the congregation eagerly watching as you become an elder. All 5 of the other elders in the church were on the stage as well. Evangeline smiles proudly as Vox prepares to make you an Elder of the Church, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She mouths, 'I'm so proud' to you as you approach the bible labeled "T.S.D". Vox has you put one hand over the bible and the other in the air. He speaks into the mic, "She will now recite the Elder oath.".

You must've recited it a hundred times before coming here to make sure to nail it, but you were preoccupied with the growing nausea you felt. As you recite the oath, you look awfully sick, your face pale and your body swaying slightly. "I, Y/N L/N, swear to adhere to the Church and fully commit myself to the church and Vox. If I fail to do this then- BLECH". Your nausea suddenly took over, the church watching in horror as you barf all over the fucking bible.

The whole church is silent, in shock over the situation. Vox's mouth is agape and his eyes are wide, not understanding what the fuck just happened. You didn't really understand either, all you did know was that if you didn't get out of there quick you'd throw up on it for a second time.

You dart to the nearest bathroom and barf into the sink. This definitely wasn't just nerves.

End

__

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@takemetoneverland420 , @kaseykay32 ,

@aupieck

-

its finally done! (tho there will for sure be a part two, but it def won't be as long).

this my Christmas gift to you guys so yayyy

if u enjoyed pls affirm me i worked hard ok bye

this shit is barely edited by the way so bye

[transit-fag]

What's your 'murica gets its head out of its ass wishlist' for urban planning and other major policy shifts?

Mine is:

Left side driving

Changing to metric already

Universal income, extra for disabled people

Universal healthcare for everyone in any part of the US

Defund the world spanning military, grant statehood or subsidized independence to our colonies. Maybe just like idk patrol our own waters and skies perhaps?

Defund the police, and create community outreach orgs to help all suffering ppl, including jerks who struggle so much they think killing ppl is ever okay.

Establish limits on copyright law being 20 years like patents. (With none of the bullshit loopholes)

Establish that all intellectual property deemed a public good by someone kind is forced into the public domain irrevocably. (Careful I will rant about the patent on heated boxes or life saving meds)

Requiring any company that operates in the US to pay taxes to the US, and hold their executives responsible for damages to anything or one they cause.

Public trains to/from anywhere with more than double digit population. Some other form of public transit that gets its own lane at least for anywhere that is infeasible.

Make safe, secure, private, and well made housing, a right and not a commodity.

Make food a right.

Make clothes a right.

Make good internet a right.

Make electricity a right.

Make privacy a right.

Make education an unlimited right.

All people in the US are eligible for all rights and protections etc. (Citizenship is not a requirement to be treated well)

Ban plastics in anything where natural materials are better.

Subsidize growing actual food people want to eat, not industrial resources.

Ban golf courses anywhere they cannot naturally survive.

Exclude all organizations from exerting powers like the law except for the government.

Anyone making disproportionate use of a public good like water, transportation, etc, gets taxed proportionately. (Semi trucks bad, trains good)

Provide water reclamation resources to areas without renewable clean water, no matter the cost.

Require that people in any position of power be good kind people.

Make rule of law actually mean something, if the law applies to everyone equally than enforce it equally. (Including the government and military)

Make corporations not legally people (they aren't)

No nukes or WMDs

Give NASA 10% the national budget or smth, they deserve it.

Require that companies pay the union dues of their employees.

Encourage unions.

Make the NSA about aquatic biology instead. Say the National Aquatic Association or smth.

No guns in civilization, wilderness or rural only for civilians.

Disband the CIA.

Full audits of the government all the time, no classified or secret bullshit. With great power comes great scrutiny and actual responsibility.

Establish an actual nationwide recycling system to turn trash into compost or useful materials.

Establish restorative justice practices nationwide.

I uh went off a bit sorry, I miss anything?

I agree with most of this except left side driving, that is an evil British scheme.

Also how the fuck do you require people in power to be "good kind people" do you not see how that could be abused, it's completely subjective

[itsmiahshemakessense]

The "i'll be okay." moment (Big brainrot rant incoming)

i don't think you realize JUST how crappy this would be. like imagine this with any other show. they make you feel all bad because Will's pining and everything, mike magically has no more issues expressing himself, and then he just accepts they'll never be together and dates someone else. with like some teary eyed "I'll be okay." moment, like, what?? so what's the point of even making that a plot point? that's terrible writing at best and heavy queer bait at worst. In most shows, the "i'll be okay." moment, is because the main character has to choose between two ppl they like and it's difficult because one is good for them and one isn't, despite all the romantic/trusting moments they've shared together.

Or, it's because a side character realizes how deeply in love the mc is already, and decides bc they love them they should let them go, or recognize their love is one-sided. In the show, will has been operating under the assumption mike doesn't like him back for 4 seasons, (already a super long time) and has been there for him from the beginning, through every breakup and argument.

Now, let's ignore their relationship issues, and say mike is straight. congrats, will officially is a nothing character, a token gay there for no reason other then queer bait, and a product of underestimating your audience's ability to spot bullshit, it's not 'Realistic for the 80's' or 'unrequited love for gay guy plot point' It's lazy.

And why even give them relationship issues and a love triangle if everything works out in the end for them? why is mike an ass? why is will the one to tell him what to say? Why is plot point?

Unrequited love is fine, if you spend maybe an episode or three teasing your audience with it, but making a character pine on screen for 3 seasons with no payoff is actually insane, especially considering you have a gay actor promoting it.

If your reason, is "sorry, hes gay so that would be unrealistic." You shouldn't be writing or analyzing gay characters, because you don't fundamentally understand that love is love. And your operating under the assumption that gay love is somehow different, and everyone needs to be explicitly out of the closet, realize their gay overnight, and be single/dating the same gender for a story like that to be possible. as if sexuality isn't a spectrum and being attracted to the same gender makes you a better person or a perfect partner.

Anyway, rant aside, if your story ends on the note that not everyone has happy endings, that's fine. but not when literally everyone else has happy endings. At the end of s4, mike and el are together, Lucas and max survive, Dustin is grieving, Nancy and Jonathan are together, along with Joyce and hopper reunited but otherwise preparing for s5, and Will is in the same position, next to mike, like he always is. Why is this the only relationship thread left hanging?

Byler is canon, (or should be) that's why.

[mirrorball-leclerc]

big reputations - part seven

series masterlist // previous // next

sabrina carpenter LET'S GO DANNY!! GET THAT FUCKING TRACTOR IN THE FUCKING POINTS BABY!!

charles leclerc so just fuck the rest of us right? sabrina carpenter oh, i'm sorry, i wasn't aware that you were coming back to racing after being on medical leave?? charles leclerc you're right, as you were.

daphne jones don't worry charles, we're all praying ferrari doesn't fuck up your race.

max verstappen that's just not possible. it's ferrari we're talking about

charles leclerc ok fuck you. you don't even get along with your teammate away from the cameras. oscar piastri could never be me sabrina carpenter we know they don't call you oscar 'heart eyes' piastri for nothing

daphne jones you're all children

sabrina carpenter your* children

sabrina carpenter anyways, max what are your thoughts on seven by daphne?

oscar piastri GET HER OFF OF TWITTER ALREADY!!

sabrina carpenter NO!!

daniel ricciardo i don't get it, what does seven have to do with f1 twitter??

charles leclerc even i know what it means

max verstappen i also don't get it

sabrina carpenter charles and oscar get it that's all that matters

max verstappen you're a very weird person

sabrina carpenter at least none of my exes have looked like they could be my parent or my sibling

charles leclerc

oscar piastri

charles leclerc as the children say, gagged him.

max verstappen i literally hate you

sabrina carpenter that's okay. i hate you too.

daphne jones everyday i begin to question why i'm friends with any of you.

daniel ricciardo i agree. none of you are normal.

oscar piastri starting with you two.

oscar piastri i thought the worst thing about this weekend was going to be my dnf. but jesus christ, how could i be so wrong??

sabrina carpenter permission to attack?

daphne jones permission denied sabrina carpenter but mom!

max verstappen well oscar’s a fucking psychic

daniel ricciardo do you want to talk about it buddy?

charles leclerc if i fucking talk about it i think i’ll cry. so no, i don't.

oscar piastri reputation era incoming?

daphne jones not the time osc

charles leclerc it’s fucking bullshit

sabrina carpenter if i had a nickel for every time carlos inherited a position after a disqualification i’d have two nickels.

sabrina carpenter no i swear to fucking god if i see one spanish media headline bashing on charles i will be attacking, permission or no permission. sabrina carpenter why is this guy treated like the second coming of jesus christ in spanish media when fernando alonso is right there? the 2x world champion, the 106 podium placer. sabrina carpenter sainz has 18, compared to fernando it's fucking nothing

max verstappen i thought you knew that it's rumored that carlos’ family has an in with the spanish media? that’s why they love him so much.

sabrina carpenter i’m biting fucking ankles. i hope charles manages to overtake him in the driver standings just shut them up.

charles leclerc at this point it'll take a fucking miracle. lando overtook me in the standings. lando, who had a horrible fucking start to his season and was barely managing to get into the points. says a lot about my season and myself as a driver doesn't it.

daphne jones were you not the vice champion last year? you're a great driver charles, you've just had a horrible season. you've made some mistakes but the majority has been ferrari's fault. if they could just get their shit together you'd have a better season.

charles leclerc thanks, i really needed to hear that.

daniel ricciardo besides, hasn't max constantly said that he enjoys fighting on track with you? i think you're one of the few who he likes fighting with on track. last year was great for you two, maybe we'll get a repeat of it next year.

oscar piastri you're 26 charles, you've got plenty of time to get a wdc, one shitty season isn't going to change that.

sabrina carpenter i will be manifesting a podium for you in mexico to make up for this shitty weekend

charles leclerc thank you sabrina

taglist: @glow-ish @agustdpeach @msolbesg @spilled-coffee-cup @1nt3rnetgf @six-call @smol-scream @fernandoswarcrimes @arieltwvdtohamflash @Mimolovescookies @brekkers-whore @camdensreg @mycenterfold @dear-fifi @chiliwhore

strikethrough means i couldn't tag you

¡leclerc-s speaks! i have a lot of grievances about texas this year, in case you couldn't tell. realistically i know them performing at the vegas ceremony doesn't work because it clashes with eras tour dates but can we pretend the brazil shows are a week later?? i'm realizing i now have to come up with a nonsense outro for vegas, any ideas?? i did take some creative liberties with the points during the us grand prix, sorry to pierre but someone had to be sacrificed. sorry in advance for portraying carlos the way i did, BUT IT'S FOR THE STORIES PURPOSE!! I PROMISE I LIKE HIM!!

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet. enjoy!

[notsoattractivearenti]

You’re Safe With Me (Mason Mount x Reader)

WC: 1.6K

Warning/Tags: toxic mother-child relationship, emotional abuse, verbal abuse, cursing, angst, protective!bf

A/N: i really didn’t feel good today, so had to channel my negative emotions into the healthiest way possible (aka writing). this one's really angsty, tho dw it has a happy ending. hope you guys enjoy and i’d love to hear your thoughts thru ask/reply/reblog 💗 apologies for any errors! feedbacks are highly appreciated 🤍 (ps: if you want to be added in my taglist just lmk!)

—

Even though you are an adult with a good job and stable income, you still live under the same roof as your mum. She is a single mother, and as her only child and family, you didn’t have the heart to leave her on her own. You care so much for your mother, yet she has never exactly been kind to you since you were little. She never physically hurt you, no, but her words have never failed to leave scars inside your heart. And by living with her, that means you constantly have to face her spiteful words and feeling helpless.

You met your boyfriend, Mason through a mutual friend 6 months ago. Knowing how famous he is, at first you thought he would never be interested in a nobody like you, but you were glad you were wrong. You and him clicked right away, and a month later, you both decided to be in a committed relationship.

You have never felt so truly loved before Mason came into your life. Constantly got brought down by your own mother, you always thought you don’t deserve love even from yourself. But Mason shows you that you deserve everything good in the world, and he helps you gain your self-esteem and change your negative view of yourself. He sees through you, loving you for everything you are, and makes you believe unconditional love is not just a myth.

Mason asked you to move in with him to Manchester last week, and after having long talks through the phone for days, you decided to accept it. It might sound fast, but you were really certain it’s the best decision and truly excited to live with the love of your life. But the hardest thing to do is to tell your mum you’re going to move in with your boyfriend, which means you have to relocate to another city. You have always wanted to live on your own, and though you feel guilty, you finally think it’s time to live the life you’ve dreamt of even if it also means you have to leave your mum.

Today, you finally have the courage to tell your mum you’re moving out soon. And of course, she doesn’t respond well.

“I didn’t raise you to be a selfish brat like you are today!” She yells at you.

“Excuse me? Selfish brat you say? How am I fucking selfish, Mum???” You can’t comprehend being called so by her.

“The way you want to move away and leave me to, and I quote, ‘living my life the way it should have been’, doesn’t that sound selfish to you? Stop thinking about yourself, Y/N! The fucking world doesn’t revolve around you!” She continues yelling.

“I have dedicated my life for you, Mum. I have basically lived to ‘serve’ you. I respected you, tolerated your actions no matter how badly those might affect me, I cared for you…” Your voice starts to break, “...because I love you. But I’m sorry, I’m not a superhuman and I have my limits...”

“Bullshit!” She denies. “You ‘serve’ me no shit. I gave up my exciting, beautiful life to raise a child who turned out to be an ungrateful person. If you really love me, you will not leave me. Let alone to live with some guy.”

“He is not just some guy, Mason is a guy who loves me. And genuinely cares about me. He makes me happy and helps me realise that I deserve so much better, Mum!”

“I deserve so much better!” She shouts even louder while aggressively pointing at herself. “And please, you just want his fucking money and fame. Why would a guy like him fall in love with a self-absorbed wretch like you?”

Her words, as always, instantly break your heart into a million pieces. You love her dearly, but you aren’t sure if she loves you too, though you know one thing for sure: in her eyes, you will always be on the wrong side.

“I…” You are completely shocked by your mother’s response and at that moment, you can no longer hold back your tears. You run back into your room, lock the door and cry your heart out.

—

After calming yourself down for a little while, you grab your phone to video call your boyfriend. You really need someone to talk to, and he is the one who can easily comfort you.

“Hey, baby!” Mason picks up the phone, he looks excited to see you.

“Hey…” You whimper, your eyes are still red but you try to conceal your sadness.

He immediately becomes very concerned. “Y/N… What’s wrong?”

“Nothing…” You shake your head weakly. “Just had another fight with my mum…”

“Fuck.” He instantly knows your mum doesn’t take the news well. “Please, whatever it was, don’t listen to anything she said about you. You are not whatever she said you are.”

“I feel like I am… She is right, I’m a selfish brat for leaving her.” I start crying

He is heartbroken to see how much your mum has wounded you deeply. He would do everything he can to help you look at yourself beyond your mum’s hurtful words – because he knows how unpleasant your mother is and that you are nothing like your mum would say.

“Stop it Y/N! You are not selfish to think about yourself! You truly matter, baby. Your feelings are valid. She has treated you like shit all your life, even God knows you deserve to live a better life away from her.” He assures you.

You can’t seem to say anything, you just really feel like shit.

Worried about your wellbeing, Mason takes an impulsive but necessary decision at the moment for your sake. He doesn't want you to suffer any longer; he just has to get you out of there as soon as possible.

“Y/N, go pack your things. I’m going to book a flight right now and pick you up. It’s time to leave… I’ll be there in no time.”

You actually have packed most of your belongings days ago, so you let him know you’re practically good to go.

“Good. See you soon, my love.” He hangs up the phone.

—

Hours later, Mason informs you with a text that he is coming to your house. Once you hear Mason’s car pulling over, you say goodbye to your room then bring your belongings downstairs. You want to leave without saying goodbye to your mum because you don’t want to hear her saying whatever she is going to say. You open the door quietly and Mason is about to help you when you see your mum catch you before you even leave the house.

“Hey! Where the fuck do you think you’re going!?” Your mum runs toward you and tries to harshly grab your arm but Mason denies her.

“Stay away from Y/N.” He says as he points at her. He then tells you to leave your belongings and get into the car immediately – you follow his direction right away.

“Who the fuck do you think you are!?”

“I’m someone who will love Y/N and protect them. Because their mother obviously can’t do her one fucking job.” He calls her out.

“Fuck you!” She fumes. “They’re my child, I fucking raised them, I have the right to know everything about them and do whatever I want to them!”

“They’re a fucking adult who gets to do whatever they want, including leaving a horrible mother like you. You have no right to control them. The only person who gets to control their life is themselves.” He defends you.

“I beg to differ.” She scoffs. “You’re just a little kid talking nonsense.”

“Listen to me, Y/M/N.” He speaks so intensely to your mum. “From now on, you are out of their life. They are going to live the life they deserve. You are no longer allowed to interfere with their life in any fucking way or any circumstances.”

“Oh please, you can try to keep us apart however you want but they’re going to need their mother, arsehole.” She replies as she sneers at him.

“Y/N has my mum who loves them as her own child. They will never need you, Y/M/N. And sooner or later, you’re going to realise what a good child they’ve always been, how much your life depended on them, and what a horrible mother you have always been.”

Before your mum gets to say anything else, Mason walks out of the house with your belongings in his hands, slams the door on her face and gets into the car. You see how visibly angry he is the moment he gets out of your mum’s house, though you know he is angry for you. You haven’t stopped tearing up ever since before Mason came to pick you up, but the tears are falling down on your face even more now – but this time, those are the tears of freedom, the tears of joy. The second Mason got out of the house, you know you’re finally safe. Him and his family are your safe haven now and you can’t wait to finally be around people who are genuinely supportive of you. Most importantly: you are safe without your mother, the one person you love so much but couldn’t even appreciate even the littlest thing about her one and only child.

As Mason gets into the driver’s seat and starts the car, he notices you are crying. 

“Hey, hey, you’re all good now, baby.” He reaches an arm out and rubs your shoulder, then wipes away your tears with his fingers. “You’re going to be okay.”

You nod your head and hold his hand.

“Thank you, Mase.”

“Don’t mention it, my love.” He continues rubbing your shoulder to comfort you. “As long as I’m living, you’re safe with me.”

—

taglist: @pulisicsgirl @neverinadream @swimmingismywholelife @chilwellspulisic @bracedes @lovelynikol16 @thoseboysinblue @lizzypotter14 @masonsrem @landoslover

[despazito]

leftism without economic theory is painful to watch like it is nuts that women are now fantasizing of becoming stay at home housewives again as a solution to the current state of “work”. or people imagining utopias where work doesn’t exist at all, im sorry that’s just completely unrealistic regardless of how much we can automate

i think that a deep drive to pursue goals is an intrinsic part of the human condition. we like to work, we feel good when we solve something complicated or finish a task, our brain gives us good chemicals in return. even those of us with disabilities who can struggle to work still want to do something. the issue is how labour gets treated and which labour is rewarded by society.

our current system values antisocial leadership practices that will do anything to improve capital, and creates bullshit jobs nobody likes for the sole purpose of extracting the most capital possible. it’s no surprise people feel alienated from such employment especially if your job is scamming people with a few extra steps. i think the disappearance of family trades run by dedicated craftsmen who owned their own means of production has also hurt. instead it’s been emotionally sterilized through college courses and employment by faceless corporations who kindly let you use their equipment in return for a fraction of your labour’s actual value.

jobs like teaching and nursing are the backbone of society but instead their labour is deemed worthless, so even folks performing these important meaningful roles want to quit because financially the world is telling them to go fuck themselves.

it doesn’t help that the new consumerist class has been groomed to feel entitled to everything and anything, combined with the aggravated political polarization its just a molotov cocktail for any potential social interaction with a stranger to become a nightmare. i don’t blame people who want to lay flat and check out of this environment, but in the long term removing yourself entirely from the labour force and removing yourself physically from everybody you may not like or want to be around won’t fix any of these community problems!!

imagine a society instead where jobs were created out of social need and valued by how they can improve life both physically and spiritually. personally the stuff i wanna do most falls squarely under ‘volunteer’ work in this current system. i’d love to donate my time to wildlife rehab and animal shelters, hell i’d gladly pick up trash from parks all day and clean up the environment if i got a living wage. because i know i’m doing something of value instead of making my boss richer.

there’s a reason women fought so hard for equal opportunities in the work force. we wanted to find societal roles and value beyond those ascribed to us from birth. i’m not gonna let tiktokers girlboss our way back into tradlife!! (not to mention the setup of supporting an entire family on a single income was very much a heterosexual white middle class concept, many poor and nonwhite women couldn’t be stay at home moms even if they wanted to!)

[wordsandrobots]

Hey there! loved your IBO writeups and I wanted to hear your thoughts on a certain character relationship/dynamic that I have yet to see fully analyzed. What do you think is the significance or thematic meaning behind the Mika, Atra, and Kudelia trio.

Besides the occasional harem joke lol, the most I have yet to muse about their dynamic is that while both Mika and Kudelia are fixated on their self sacrificing roles and ideals, meaning Mika being the Devil of Tekkadan and Kudelia being the Maiden of Revolution, Atra seems to be the glue that binds them together and tie them back down to reality. Which fits considering the ending.

But what are your thoughts tho?

(Also any plans on a Mika and McGillis writeup)

Hi! Glad you've enjoyed the rambling!

First, really, truly sorry it took so long to get around to answering this. A combination of illness and heavy workload has left my brain more scattered than usual.

Second, nothing planned at present regarding Mika and McGillis, although it's definitely something worth exploring. There's a lot of interesting things to be said about the way McGillis misreads their relationship while being so inspired by Mika, and how Mika cuts through a lot of McGillis' bullshit by being tied to the reality the older man is trying to escape.

Now, on to the main topic.

One way to look at it is that Mikazuki, Atra and Kudelia are a marriage of different conceptions of what gives life meaning. You've got Mikazuki dedicating himself to serving another's ambition, Atra finding purpose in everyday tasks, and Kudelia working towards improving the world as a whole. These can also be seen as three different forms of sacrifice, with each of them giving up things they could have had elsewhere (self-direction, safety, status) for the sake of doing what they think is right.

Another approach is to emphasise their similarities, as equally compassionate people. Kudelia is spurred into action by moral indignation at the treatment of her fellow Martians. Mikazuki is automatically protective of those around him, including strangers. And Atra's skill-set is rooted in the practicalities of looking after other people. This shared drive shapes their relationship from the start: not for nothing do group hugs form key moments in its progression.

If I were to take a stab at assigning them a particular thematic meaning as a group, though, it is this: combined, they represent how far out of reach superficially mundane desires can lie for those at the sharp end of society.

Consider Atra. I've seen criticisms of Iron-Blooded Orphans focused on the stereotypical nature of her contentment with the domestic and desire to settle down with the people she loves (including somebody saying the writers 'had never met a woman in their life', which is bleakly funny) and yes, these do reflect gendered expectations to an extent. However, to stop there misses that, in context, 'I want a peaceful existence as a housewife and supportive member of the community' is a wildly aspirational life-goal. Before meeting Mikazuki, Atra was a homeless runaway fleeing a miserable existence as the dogsbody at a brothel. She isn't under any illusion that what she wants is going to follow naturally from simply being a girl, much less so after falling in with a group of suicidally-reckless child soldiers. The desperation that leads her to suggest Kudelia have a child with Mikazuki in order to keep him with them is extremely well-founded.

Likewise, as I've discussed many times before, Mikazuki's stated aim (devotion to Orga aside) is to be a farmer. To grow vegetables. More of a challenge on Mars than on Earth, yet hardly the stuff of a 50-episode mecha anime in its own right. But, again, Mikazuki is not in a social position where this is automatically feasible. Not only does he lack the required education, farming itself is not the stable livelihood it should be. Fighting is a far more certain source of income and while he does not ever stop trying to learn about growing plants – as a recent commenter rightly pointed out – the choices he makes or is forced to make continually place his dream further out of reach.

And for her part, Kudelia wants nothing more than to ensure Atra and Mikazuki can live the lives they want. Their articulation of her intentions reveals its core straightforwardness: she really is working to ensure the happiness of the Martian people. That's the entire point. Settling on Mikazuki's hypothetical farm is an idea she clearly sees as a long way off, even while cherishing the invitation. But she never wavers from wanting that reality for Mikazuki and Atra, and by extension the rest of Tekkadan. High-handed and naïve though her initial attempts to treat them as equals are, she keeps trying and internalises the lessons they teach her, and that only increases her commitment to a world where no child has to get blood on their hands for the sake of survival.

Here, though, we come to the crunch. Because the things in the way of the simple, simply-stated future these three are after do not lie within their actual relationship, which develops naturally over the course of events until they are firmly a romantic trio. Rather, they are grappling with being caught inside an exploitative structure that proceeds from three hundred years of Earth-centric hegemony. Mikazuki and Atra's poverty has roots far outside their control and Kudelia's challenges to those roots are met with violent resistance from the status quo. For them to be happy would require either a dramatic elevation of their position (Orga's solution), or transforming the economic distribution of their society (Kudelia's solution).

All three are ready to make a fight of it, utilising their complementary talents and shared reserve of bravery. They support one another as best they can through the ensuing struggles. Mutual respect and care is a key part of what binds them together, with Kudelia's determination reflecting what she sees in Mikazuki, Atra's acts of protectiveness towards Kudelia belying her noncombatant role, and Mikazuki swearing to fight for Atra's happiness as reciprocation for her declaration of love.

But in the end this is simply not a story where the daring warrior, plucky princess and brave peasant-girl can win the day. The sacrifices necessary to reach for a better future preclude everyone living to see it. Atra's fears that Mikazuki will be lost to them prove accurate. Kudelia's desire to provide those she loves with a safe, stable life is subordinate to the material connections necessary to pursue that very goal. And Mikazuki's drive to act for others leads him to embrace Gundam Barbatos, the silent fourth member of this relationship, carrying him inexorably to his doom.

I talked in my essay on queerness in IBO about how the epilogue is centred on Akatsuki. Mikazuki and Atra's son is the triumph achieved despite the tragedy, a testament to love that mattered in spite of the violence that consumed it. We find him living peacefully on Sakura Farm with Atra, Kudelia acting as his guardian, giving tangible meaning to his father's death and how things have changed since, no matter if Tekkadan are forgotten.

That framing, however, is bittersweet. The final shots, juxtaposing Akatsuki with photographs from before everything fell apart, reinforce the cost of reaching this point and there remain battles to be fought, as Kudelia smiles for the cameras, signing treaties with her enemies to further chip away at long-standing injustices. The better world is still a work-in-progress and far too many people didn't live to see even this much.

Behind the hope, the cruelty of the situation lies laid bare. Again, Mikazuki and Atra were not asking for much. Their happiness, which Atra achieves in part, would have been entirely unobjectionable. The suggestion Mikazuki enjoys killing makes him display – for him – considerable distress. His hands tremble at the idea, despite violence being central to his current existence. Indeed, it is that existence, stretching back to his time on the streets, that taught him to respond violently. Had things been different, he would have been content raising crops and children.

Even Kudelia's suggested changes are relatively mild. Greater economic parity with Earth is hardly an unreasonable request and finds supporters among the political class. At the same time, the outsized response exposes a great deal about how important the inequality is to those at the top, how it is actively chosen and enforced. Trite as it might seem on the surface, a goal of 'making everybody happy' can lead in radical directions, provoking questions like 'why isn't everybody happy?', 'who does their unhappiness benefit?', 'who would its abolition inconvenience?', and 'how does society justify the absence of happiness in the first place?'

Iron-Blooded Orphans spends its run pairing such matters with a sweet, supportive, polyamorous teenage romance. The sharpness of this contrast emphasises the humanity of those involved and the sheer unfairness of their circumstances – and of what is required of them to improve matters, when power is hoarded elsewhere.

-----

At least, that's where my mind went off the back of your question. There's a lot of that contrast in IBO, between the mundane reality of the people involved and their outsized reputation, infamy and actions. Plus, the treatment of sexuality, polyamory and queerness as just ordinary is something I deeply love about it, as a show.

Thank you for the ask! As a bonus note, this is my go-to Atra song.

('Words, you cannot possibly have a Thea Gilmore song for every occasion.' Just you watch me.)

[Index of other writing]

[givethemsmut]

Dom Mysterio x Reader

Chapter Two | Where it all started…

Shorter chapter incoming…

Expect some time jumps

Don’t own anything WWE 💪🏼

In no way, shape, or form do I edit. This story is for fun and entertainment purposes.

“Two days. Our flight is at 4 AM. Gives you time to dump the flavor of the week.” The bitterness in his voice hurt. 

“Dom. What we did- I’m sorry. Every second felt amazing, I just couldn’t commit. I was scared.”

“I haven’t been pinning, hermosa. You moved on and so did I. No hard feelings.” He was distant still, cold and vicious.

I knew about the other girls. All of them. He had made it his mission to parade them in front of me. He wanted to make sure I knew he had gotten his dick wet after me.

“No hard feelings? Tell your slut of the month to keep it down this time.” I said walking past him in my bikini as I climbed out of the hot tub. 

I wanted him to see every part of me he could. Dom followed me inside, dry as can be. “It’s not going to work, whatever bullshit you have planned. Parading around in practically nothing and rubbing your boyfriends in my face. It’s not going to make me feel bad.”

“Feel bad? We fucked, Dom. That’s not my fault you can’t get over it.” I shouted back. 

“You’re a fucking bitch for that. You wanna play games? We’ll play. Don’t come crying to me when it finally hurts the same way you hurt me.”

We had taken one leap forward just to hustle back to cruel. 

Dom had no idea there hadn’t been anyone else. No one. He just knew what it looked like and it looked like I was a slut but in reality those moans were faked and nothing went past feeling me up.

I deserved his cruelty tho so I took it like a champ.

Rey had got us a two bedroom condo only this time we didn’t share a bathroom. Dominik was kicking off training and everything WWE the very next day.

The frost melted between us enough for us to eat pizza in our mess of boxes. I wanted to badly to apologize but nothing could take back how I broke him heart.

Eventually we got over it, slowly and started being friends again. I even went to his practice matches and training sessions to support him. Our hormones and not having to share a bathroom truly helped, suddenly we could deal with that tension much easier.

I got meaningless jobs, here and there. Enough to pay for  living, rent if Rey would ever take it from me, which he declined more than once. Every penny I had went to stocking the fridge for Dom who was eating his body weight in food with the training burning extra calories.

We got extremely close again, inseparable most days and boundaries of friendship that made people uncomfortable. It made relationships hard to have and harder to keep. We both went through a period of less serious relationships with minimal risk to our friendship again.

We did have one slip up our twenties after getting drunk. None of it planned and all of it something that didn’t please his fling of the month. 

It was Randy Orton’s birthday, something we never thought we would be invited to but a lot of the roster was so we went. Dom hardly knew anyone and I was just as invisible, only I had boobs that distracted everyone. Least the horny men traveling almost the whole year. No one expected Dom to have anyone with him. He was new, inexperienced, and hadn’t paid any dues in their eyes. It was bullshit. He was the hardest working man I knew who wasn’t letting his dad’s legacy determine anything for him. If I could do anything it was making people believe he was someone before they knew him.

I put in a skin tight dress, a black thong and jean jacket that all fit every curve of my body perfect. Linking arms with Dom I could feel the respect climb the more people saw my hand in his. “Just trust me, okay? You’re gonna leave this party a superstar.”

“Why am I scared right now?” He laughed and smiled but held me closer.

Laughing into his chest I handed the bouncer our invite and breezed by without stopping. That was the night I met Randy, who was married still and raising a toddler. I had no business entertaining his flirting. I had no business letting myself be turned on by the entire night enough to convince Dom to fuck me for the second time.

The head of WWE made his way over to us, extending his hand and introducing himself. “Vince, who are you son?”

I stepped in, “Dominick Mysterio, future of WWE, respectfully.”

Vince laughed placing his hand on my arm and I was prepared to valid every rumor if it meant Dom’s hard work was paying off. “You have balls.”

“Enough to convince you to see what he can do? He’s not his dad, he’s better.”

Dominik’s hands smoothed around my waist, nuzzling his face in my hair, finding my ear. “Mi amore, he’s the owner. Slow down.”

“No one is gonna hand you anything, Dom. You have to want it enough to take it.” 

I smiled, forcing him to talk shop when his hand smoothed down my ass before squeezing. “Remember that later.”

Dom was a flirt, a great talker, dedicated to making it in the same industry his dad did. I was proud of him. 

Talking him up to everyone I let him touch me like I was his at least for the night. When we went back to our condo it was hard to turn it off when he cradled my hips asking me, “Why do you believe in me so much?”

“Because I know you. No more deserves it more.”

The way his mouth covered mine, determined to take me right along with his dreams felt out of my control. I wanted him even tho I shouldn’t have. 

Yanking my dress up to my waits he dipped down to his knee in the middle of the living room. Draping my leg over his shoulder I whimpered in desperation. “Dom. We shouldn’t.”

“Don’t say it. I already know. It’s a mistake. No one finds their soul mate at fourteen. I’ve heard it. I’m not asking you to marry me. I’m asking you to fuck my tongue.”

That’s all he had to say for me to melt and make that mistake all over again.

[xiii-e]

XIII▸ Well. I suppose I should introduce myself.

XIII▸ Hello, to all those I haven't met- which, will be most of you realistically. I'm Project XIII-E, otherwise refered to as Thirteen-E. Just Thirteen works too. After certain recent... events shall we say, a representative of the Union DoJ/HR insisted that I be given the oppertunity to meet with people outside of Harrison Purview while discussions regarding my status are underway, since things are dragging out somewhat.

XIII▸ So... this omninet account was created, with the assistance of Helios-8 [◂▸Hi folks o/ ] a fellow Project who understands all of this better than I do. He's volunteered to be my minder while I'm figuring all this out. For now, I suppose- more about me? What's important... I'm a trained field medic and basic mechanic, intended to opperate as a mobile assistance personnel wherever the fight is thickest. I can patch you, or your mech up from most things. I'm a Lancaster pilot; not the most common thing in the legion I know, but IPS-N knew what they were doing with the old lannies. I've made some alterations. M1 Leatherback is my pride and joy. I'm registered under the callsign Cicatrice, but my name is preferable. It's easier to say, and to spell.

XIII▸ Oh the uh- the Project thing. That might take a while to explain. I'll... I'll summarise it later. [ADDENDUM: summary_attached] That's all I can think of, from the top of my head. I'll do my best to aclimatise to any cultural differences outside of Harrison space during my time here. Please feel free to ask me questions, about myself or my stated expertise. It might be nice to make some more lasting connections, outside of deployment.

XIII▸ Signing off for now. I look forward to meeting you.

// loading echo.exe ... //... //... // now running echo.exe

◂▸ alrightyy, Turtie's got themself introduced, now it's my turn. howdy folks: My name is Helios-8, but I accept Lio if flashclone naming conventions turn your stomach. That's what me and Turtie are, by the way. Project-produced HA sanctioned flashclones. Being able to say that openly is why I run this nifty piece of software that keeps things below the line for any HA techs who might get on our case about legal distinctions, treaties, terms of service etc. Legally, we didn't say any of this shit.

◂▸I'm on a seperate datapad, I get my own that I can tinker with since I'm defined as an employed citizen in the tech sector, whereas Turtie's... well, it's complicated. Suffice to say they're not that. I'll explain in time. Important thing is, anything they want to say that might get them in trouble, they'll run through my interface and protective software. You want to see what either of us don't want HA seeing, we'll throw it into the void under the cloak of ECHO here. Something between insurance in case this all goes tits up, and a sort of controlled exposure therapy so Turtie can learn how to speak their mind.

◂▸I think it's important they get a break from the bullshit the Projects put us through, hence why I put myself forward to be their handler between deployments. My project line wasn't anything like Unlucky Thirteen, but- ehhh, that's a story better saved for the big expo. Sorry for being cryptic about shit. It'll come to light in its own time. This was meant to be an introduction but, I think you'll find out what you need to if you get talking to us.

Or don't; we'll be treating this thing like a diary anyways, and when ECHO's feeling up to big files I'll drop some of the more interesting pieces of history I have squirreled away too >:]c But, your eyes are enough. You saw us. You know we were here, and we were real, and that we were people too.

I'll try and keep things organised: ECHO should automatically tag anything she's cloaked with echo.exe if you're looking for our back and forth, and I'll file any large files, exposes etc that may or may not actually come from me under turtleshell.dox ; for incoming chatter, just check out You've Got Mail

◂▸anyway, cheers for reading. see you round the net -Helios-8

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// ooc: hiii this is @mossydice / @mossylocks depending on where you may know me- and this blog is a bit of an experiment!! I'm pretty shy overall so how much actual rping I manage to do is Very up in the air, but at the very least this'll serve as a fun in character blog for me to exposit about my scrungly Thirteen-E; I won't get to play them for probably another year or so yet, so this is a fun way to explore their character and some of the lore specific to them that I've come up with in the mean time!! ^-^ I look forward to doing more ic writing!! If you want to talk about anything, ask any clarifying questions etc please feel absolutely free to pop into my dms \o/

IMPORTANTLY: Thirteen-E's whole deal can get a bit gritty in places, so I'll be trying to include cw's where I think they might be revelent. However this whole blog is going to play heavy into dehumanisaiton and the comodification of human bodies if the flashclone premise didn't make that obvious, so if these are topics you'd rather not read about at length in your fiction, no hard feelings!! thanks for stopping by o7