#have a televangelist tv man

[claudethecrabdemoness]

So I did It

I made a Fusion

And he's ✨magnificent✨

#ohhgod #why am I so attracted to this?? #what is it about cheek and jaw bones that make me go absolutely feral??? #cis men are a scam #anyway #have a televangelist tv man #now there’s a guy I’d join a cult for #vox hazbin hotel #televangelist vox #hazbin hotel #vox #human vox #1950s #redesign #character design #joel osteen #regardless of the curses i am pretty proud of this one #i wanted to keep his head more square like his screen #and his hair is…….. full of choices #the v in his widow’s peak being one of them #and of course I wanted to make him sharklike #I think I achieved it #the tim burton really popped out w this one #what a man #what a mighty strange man #stop looking at me like that vox or im gonna have to fuck you #there's a damn good reason he won that sexiest man poll #and im looking at it rn #stupid sexy vox #with his suits and his voice and his smile and his slutty slutty waist-

[yanderefarm]

priest!vox x male!reader

cw; religious imagery, belly bulging, impact play,

a/n; this is so fuckin messy im so sorry i was possessed by this au idea. happy easter. ill try to work on requests tonight

in life vox was a televangelist who stole money from dying people to pay for private jets. and in death he's a demon with a tv on his head and the conviction to convert. every converted soul belongs to him, every soul a stepping stone as he climbs to the top. not much has changed.

well. until you walked into his life.

if the demon wants to preach then he needs something to worship. it doesn't matter how you got his soul but it belongs to you. he doesn't hate it too much except for when he does because you let him keep the facade of power. he can be the big tv man all he wants. in the end he belongs to you.

in the end he crawls on his knees before you every night. he says sweet begrudging praises as you grind your foot on his thigh. you drag his leash until he's sat between your legs and you tell him to pray.

his mouth so clumsily goes up your thigh before you have him gratefully kissing your thick cock. and before he knows it he's static and buzzing as you fuck his throat. his own cock is hard underneath his suit and perfect for you to grind your foot on until hes begging to cum.

once you've fucked his throat til he's dizzy the real fun starts. you take your time gingerly removing his clothes before you order he do the same. every article of clothing he slides off your body is followed by static-y kisses and gently worshipping touches. he helps you step out of your pants and begins slowly tracing his fingers up your legs before you give a harsh tug on his leash.

"what's that for-" he starts to growl but when he looks up into your sharp eyes he silences himself.

"Look at me, Vox." You command him in a voice that sends shivers up his spine. You grab his chin with one hand and examine him carefully, watching as his eyes follow you with rapt intensity.

"Tell me who you belong to." You order and he lets out a shakey breath before he repeats your name back to you.

"Tell me who you worship." You move your bodies closer until your considerable height is looming over him. Again he says your name with a shakey voice.

"Who is your god?" Your grip on his chin tightens hard enough to crack his screen. He yelps before he declares your name as firmly as he can.

You shove him to the bed and climb over his slim and small body. It's so easy to hold his arms above his head. It's so easy to treat his body like a toy. His lanky limbs move over your shoulders as you line your girthy cock with his already stretched hole. Your repeated nights of "worship" have stretched him out to perfectly fit your cock. You slide into him watching his face glitch as you press against his sweet spot.

"Do you want to go to heaven Voxxy?" You coo so sweetly as if it's a gentle promise.

"Please- Please please please-" Already he's begging for you. He craves the salvation only you can give him.

And with his pleading you drag your cock out of his needy hole. And then you slam your cock back in, drilling into him. Your large hands grab his thin wrists as you begin a steady and brutal pace, you use his arms as leverage to dig your cock deeper. You can both see the outline of it clear in his stomach with every rough thrust. The sound of skin slapping mixes with the buzz of electronic malfunction as your cock melts Vox's brain.

"Go-ah- God please please- God ru-ruin me" His voice is so pretty.

Of course you have to. You flip him on his stomach and one hand goes to push his head to the pillow while the other wraps around his cock. You begin fisting his cock relishing in the muffled buzzes of delight only interrupted by his whorish begging. He begs so pretty.

"Please save me fr-from my sin- Please- Salv-AH-tion. Mercy. Fuck. Please please please-"

You press your thumb so cruelly to his slit.

"You don't get to cum before your god."

And he sobs. But he still thanks you. Of course he'd thank his god.

He thanks you for every bruise, every hand print on his ass, every second he can't breathe, every minute of pain and unbearable pleasure you subject your dear priest to. After you make sure he thanks you, then you'll reward him with kisses and gentle stroking of his cock. Nothing that's enough for him.

Even when you finally fill his ass with cum he still sobs and begs and pleads. You have to slap his ass just to make him behave.

"Say your prayer." You order and your ever obedient priest complies.

He begins his soft prayer to you thanking you for ruining his sinful body. And between his legs you increase your gentle strokes until he's shouting and crying. You squeeze his pathetic cock as you milk him of his cum and spill it all on the bed below.

That's not the end. It only marks the beginning as you begin your jackhammering thrusts again.

But once you allow him to lay limp in your arms you give him a gentle kiss.

"Such a good boy. I'll have to reward you." You could swear after you spoke his buzzing sounded like purring.

#top male reader #dom male reader #male reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin x male reader #vox x reader #vox x male reader #sub vox #sub hazbin hotel

[bowtiepastabitch]

Heaven's Not Homophobic in Good Omens, and Why That's Important

I need to preface this with, I am not trying to start a fight or argument and won't tolerate any homophobic or bad faith arguments in response to this. Cool? Cool.

This is in large part inspired by this ask from Neil's blog, which sparked some discourse that I don't want to get involved in but that brought up some analytic questions for me.

He goes on to reblog a question asking about Uriel's taunt specifically, clarifying that "boyfriend in the dark glasses" can just as easily be read/translated from angelic as girlfriend or bosom buddy. The idea is that an angel and a demon "fraternizing" is seriously looked down upon, not that heaven is homophobic. And that's super important.

We see homophobia in both the book and show, of course. Aziraphale is very queer-coded, intentionally and explicitly so, and we see the reaction of other humans to that several times. Sergeant Shadwell, for example, and the kid in the book that calls him the f-slur when he's doing magic at Warlock's birthday party. These are, however, individual human reactions to his coding as a gay man.

I am, personally, not a fan of heaven redemption theories for the show; no hate for people who want that it's just not something I'm interested in. I don't believe that heaven is good with bad leadership, or that God Herself remains as a paragon of virtue. To me, that's not in line with the themes and messages of the show. It's important, however, that heaven doesn't reflect human vices. Heaven can be nasty and selfish and apathetic in its own right without ableism, homophobia, transphobia, or racism. This matters for two reasons.

Firstly, we don't need the -isms and -phobias to be evil or at least ethically impure. In a world where we spend so much time fighting against prejudice and bigotry, our impulse is to see that reflected in characters whose motivations we distrust or who we're intended to dislike. While it's true that that's often the big bad evil in our daily lives, it can really cheapen the malice in fictional evil from a storytelling standpoint. A villain motivated by racism or as an allegory for homophobia can be incredibly compelling, but not every bad guy can be the physical representation of an -ism. Art reflects the reality in which it's crafted, but the complexity of human nature and the evil it's capable of can't be simplified to a dni list.

Secondly, and I think more importantly, is that for Good Omens specifically, this places the responsibility for homophobia on humanity. If you're in this fandom, there's like a 98% chance you've been hurt by religion in some way. For a lot of us, that includes religious homophobia and hate, so it makes sense to want to project that onto the 'religious' structure of Good Omens. It's a story that is, in many ways, about religious trauma and abuse. However, if heaven itself held homophobic values, it would canonize in-universe the idea that heaven and religion itself are responsible for all humanity's -isms and -phobias and absolve humans of any responsibility. Much like Crowley emphasizes repeatedly that the wicked cruelty he takes responsibility for is entirely human-made, we have to accept that heaven can't take the blame for this. To make heaven, the religious authority, homophobic would simply justify religious bigotry from humans. By taking the blame for religious extremism and hatred away from heaven and the religious structure, Good Omens makes it clear that the nastiness of humanity is uniquely and specially human and forces the individual to take responsibility rather than the system. Hell isn't responsible for the Spanish Inquisition, which by the way was religiously motivated if you didn't know, and heaven isn't responsible for Ronald Reagan.

This idea is perhaps more strongly and explicitly expressed in the Good Omens novel, in the scene where Aziraphale briefly possesses a televangelist on live TV. It's comedic, yes, but also serves to demonstrate that human concepts of the apocalypse and religious fervor are deeply incorrect (in gomens universe canon) and condemn exploitation of faith practices. Pratchett and Gaiman weave a great deal of complexity into the way religion and religious values are portrayed in the book, especially in the emphasis on heaven and hell being essentially the same. They're interested in the concept of what it means to be uniquely and unabashedly human, the good and the bad, and part of that is forcing each individual person to bear the brunt of responsibility for their own actions rather than passing it off onto a greater religious authority.

Additionally, from a fan perspective, there's something refreshing about a very queer story where homophobia isn't the primary (or even a side) conflict. The primary narrative of Good Omens isn't that these two man-shaped-beings are gay, it's that they're an angel and a demon. The tension in their romantic arc arises entirely from the larger conflict of heaven and hell, and things like gender and sexuality don't really matter at all. Yes, homophobia and transphobia are very real, present issues in our everyday lives, but they don't have to be central to every story we tell. There's something really soothing about Crowley and Aziraphale being so queer-coded and so clearly enamored with each other without constantly being bombarded with homophobia and hate. It's incredible to see a disabled angel whose use of a mobility aid makes no difference in their role and to see angels and demons using they/them pronouns without being questioned or misgendered. It's all accepted and normalized, and that's the kind of representation that we as queer people deserve.

#anywho that got real long #good omens #neil gaiman #terry pratchett #media analysis #good omens analysis #queer coding #queer representation #ineffable husbands #gomens #aziraphale x crowley #anywho happy valentines day #love my fandom #not beta read or majorly edited because I'm a busy guy with homework so lmk if there's any errors that need correcting (politely!)

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRINGS ] Eren x f!reader, Grisha x f!reader, Zeke x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] My magnum opus /hj. Shout out to my dear friend Mica because I couldn't have written this fic without their support and guidance. And shout out to @strawberrystepmom because this fic is what brought us together lmaoooooo. [ SYNOPSIS ] Disillusioned by your current church, you find yourself drawn to a charismatic televangelist and his seemingly pious sons. [ WORD COUNT ] 14.6k [ CONTENT ] DARK CONTENT, tall-coded reader, sacrilege, incest (between Eren and Zeke), age gap (Grisha’s in his late 40s, y/n is in her 20s), masturbation, cucking, threesome, voyeurism, drugs (weed), dubcon (power imbalance, pastor x parishioner), degradation (during sex and just in general), angst, manipulation, creampie, thick Yeager dick, humiliation, y/n gets called “sister” while getting fucked but it’s in a religious sense, religious trauma, disturbing biblical imagery (violence), cigarettes (Zeke), biting, hair pulling, impact play (slapping), oral sex (m + f receiving), cum play, panty sniffing, spit play, blood (not in a sexy way), these men are strong and can manhandle/lift you with ease.

And I saw an angel standing in the sun; and he cried with a loud voice, saying to all the birds that fly in the midst of heaven…

The early vestiges of a Sunday morning didn’t inspire deep thinking or any form of reflection. It was a time to be brain dead, to indulge in the death rattle of public access television. You witnessed a zookeeper getting bit by a garter snake on a children’s program, families attending therapy while honing their dancing skills, deadly go-kart races, and a man demonstrating the superabsorbent qualities of chamois cloths.

It was welcomed. You needed to be numbed before meandering to the megachurch. Sermons were easier to suffer through if you were vaguely dissociative, your eyes glazing over as the exploiter behind the altar repeated his chicanery.

Salvation had to be earned. Consumption was godly. Wealth was bestowed to only the most pious of people. Sinners lived impoverished lives. They didn’t work hard enough. Your inability to line the pastor’s pockets proved you didn’t believe hard enough.

You weren’t sure if you called yourself a believer anymore. Church didn’t inspire you. It was just an unexciting compulsion. It signified the start of the week, the sun overtaking the hills. Nothing more, nothing less.

You don’t know what possessed you to tune in for Service For Shut-Ins that morning. Usually you knew to turn off the TV when twilight began to brew. But for whatever reason the show called out to you.

It likely had something to do with the emerald-eyed man on the television shouting, “Hey, you! Yeah, you!”

You were immediately transfixed. His chocolate brown hair was piled on top of his head in a messy bun, tendrils of hair haphazardly framing his face. His olive skin was sun kissed. He wore a crisp white button-down tucked into a pair of black straight leg trousers. His outfit was topped off with a pair of respectable, leather suspenders of a mahogany hue. He looked more like a model than a preacher.

“I think you’ve sufficiently startled the three people that are watching this,” a gruff voice muttered from behind the camera.

“Aw. Come on, brother. There’s at least five.”

The brunette smirked and flipped through a worn bible resting on the walnut wooden pulpit. The room he stood in was sparsely decorated. The walls were stark white. A blue velvet curtain hung behind him, giving everything a rather Lynchian appearance. It was the exact opposite of the flashy amphitheater you typically worshiped in.

“Do we start? Where’s dad?” The brunette asked.

“No idea. We’re live. Start without him.”

“With my luck he’ll get mad and not talk to me for two fuckin’ days.”

“Eren!” The voice hissed.

Eren shrugged and brushed his hair out of his face. He exhaled and cracked his neck, the sound echoing through the television. Just as he went to speak, a door opened and quickly  slammed shut. Solid footsteps emanated from beyond the frame.

“Glad you decided to show up,” Eren joked.

“Very funny,” a rather commanding voice replied. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today.”

An older man walked into frame and shooed Eren away from the pulpit. His sleek dark hair was tucked behind his ears, much longer than the hair of your usual pastor. He was dressed exactly the same as Eren, though he looked more disheveled and unshaven.

The man stared down at his bible and smiled.

“Ah, excellent choice, Eren. The Gospel of Matthew.”

You heard the man behind the camera sigh and grumble something incomprehensible under his breath. It was pungent with annoyance. You couldn’t help but laugh.

The pastor stretched and cleared his throat. He dove right into the story of Jesus and the rich man, and how the rich man questioned Christ about how one can attain eternal life. He orated the story by heart; it was riveting. At your church the pastor relied heavily on cue cards when he was compelled to quote scripture. But this pastor passionately relayed how the rich man told Christ he followed all the commandments and was curious as to what he lacked.

“‘If you wish to be perfect, go, sell your possessions, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.’ When the young man heard this word, he went away grieving, for he had many possessions.”

He made direct eye contact with the camera.

“To some believers the rich man’s grief is understandable. But what Jesus witnessed was weakness in its purest form. A man too grounded in the luxuries of this world. It’s rather tragic, isn’t it? I can’t imagine having my self worth tethered to the things I own. If you know God, undeniably, you’d never cling to your possessions in the first place.

However, this is not to say the rich man is a lost cause. Everyone is capable of being saved, even the most disgusting and depraved of sinners. But as Jesus says, ‘It will be hard for a rich person to enter the kingdom of heaven. It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle.’”

A chorus of men chanted, “Amen.”

“You,” the pastor said, pointing at the camera and leaning over the pulpit. “I can feel your discontent.” He held his hand to his heart. “I know what it’s like to witness heresy itself. I know how it can make you question your devotion. You curse God, unsure if He is worth following. I want to tell you that He is. It’s undeniably worth living in His light. I tell you, it's not God you wrestle with. It’s the used car salesmen masquerading as your brothers, shrieking in arenas filled to the brim with lost souls. You wrestle with the demons sinking their teeth into your wallet, draining it of every dollar.” His tone grew more intense by the moment. “That is not godliness! That is chicanery! These men do not shepherd their flock with kindness in their heart! They merely want to shear and bleed the sheep, to sell their wool to the highest bidder!”

The chorus of men chanted another, “Amen,” their fervor growing. The pastor’s eyes softened and he gave a small smile.

“You don’t have to weather the storm in your soul alone.”

You were aghast, mouth agape. A tear trickled from your eye down your cheek, leaving a single, salty trail. You wiped it away with the back of your hand and sniffled. How did he know? How did he know you struggled with your faith? That you attended a megachurch run by rich freaks?

No, it was just a coincidence. But a lovely one. You were changed by the pastor's words. He was what you were missing. Him and this Eren. They saved you.

You eschewed attending your old church. Service For Shut-Ins was all you needed. You hung on Pastor Grisha’s every word. Every little thing he said filled you with unspeakable joy. He was intelligent and progressive in comparison to the sermons you used to suffer through. He was also significantly more handsome than any preacher you stumbled upon.

Your hands often found themselves in your underwear, breath hitching as he rolled up his sleeves. His toned forearms could send you spiraling into the depths of lust. Under his intense gaze as he recited scripture, you pretended he could see you delving your fingers in your dripping cunt.

Shame tended to follow after you came, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were smitten.

“I need to see him,” you exhaled.

You found the address for the church on their bare bones website. When you mapped out a route you were pleased to see the church was on the outskirts of town, secluded from the secular nonsense and false prophets.

Your nerves almost got the best of you when you saw the one room church resting near the coast. It was painted black with a white door and white windowsills. It was simple, a welcome change.

“Are you here for service?”

You turned to see a tall blonde-haired man smoking a cigarette. He adjusted his glasses and took a drag. He dressed the same as Pastor Grisha and Eren though the first few buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a hint of chest hair.

“Uh, yeah. I am. Am I… Am I allowed in?”

He chuckled.

“It’s a church, sister. Not a nightclub. Come on.” He tossed his cigarette to the side. “I’ll walk in with you.”

“Thank you. I won’t lie. I'm a little nervous.”

“Why?” He asked, smirking.

He looked so much like Pastor Grisha you wondered if they were related. The only difference being his flaxen, wavy hair and more muscular build.

“I have a complicated relationship with the Lord.”

“Don’t we all?”

He held open the door for you. You brushed up against his body and your breath hitched. Heat radiated off of him. You wanted to curl up next to him in the pews, have him be your security blanket until you got your sea legs.

“You can sit anywhere, but I don’t recommend sitting in the first row unless you want to get up close and personal with the fury that is Pastor Grisha.”

“Where do you sit?”

He patted your shoulder with his weighty hand.

“I don’t. I work the camera.”

So he was the mysterious voice you heard on occasion. You anxiously thanked him for his kindness before finding a comfortable seat in the middle of the pews. The only other people in the church were a handful of men all dressed the same: white button-down, black pants, leather suspenders. Not a single woman in the room. Suddenly you felt like even more of an outsider. A harlot considering you mostly came to gawk at a beautiful man of God. You nearly choked when he took to the pulpit, but to your dismay Eren was nowhere to be found.

Throughout the sermon you noticed the pastor’s gaze lingering on you. He seemed a little antsy, stumbling over his words, tugging at his collar. A sense of power washed over you. Never once had you seen him struggle to get through a sermon. It was charming.

Once the sermon was finished you quickly gathered yourself and headed towards the door. You caught the eye of the blonde camera operator. He latched onto your wrist as you tried to move past him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked, smirking.

“I was gonna go,” you conceded. “I don’t wanna be a bother, y’know?”

“You’d hardly be a bother if you stuck around.”

His tone was flirtatious.

“I—I, uh, okay,” you stammered. “I can stick around.”

His hand snaked around your waist and he started to lead you out the door. You didn’t know what was happening, but you were pleased Zeke took the initiative to take you under his wing. He was a good Christian.

“What’s your name?”

“It’s Ze—”

Before he could finish, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned around to see Pastor Grisha smiling warmly at you.

“Zeke, I hope you're not scaring this young woman away.”

“Oh no. You caught me,” Zeke said, his words dripping with sarcasm.

Zeke let go of you and trudged off, mumbling expletives under his breath.

“He wasn’t scaring me off,” you assured the pastor.

“I’m just giving him a hard time,” he chuckled. “Though he’s not exactly the most welcoming boy around. At least not in a traditional sense.”

“He was very nice. He calmed my nerves a bit,” you said, nervously scratching the back on your scalp. “It’s my first time here.”

“I’m well aware. You’re hard to miss. What’s your name, sister?”

You told him your name and thought it was funny he bothered to tell you his, considering you knew it so well. It was a name that often fell from your lips late at night when you’d let your lusty mind wander. When he shook your hand you tried to memorize how his skin felt against yours. You didn’t know when you would be blessed with such an opportunity again.

“A lovely name for a lovely girl,” he said, squeezing your hand.

You were awestruck and ready to sign your life away to him. No one ever told you were lovely.

“Are you in a hurry?” He asked.

You shook your head.

“Would you be interested in coming to the parsonage for tea? I like to get to know my new congregants lest they not be true believers,” he said with a sharp tongue.

Your eyes widened, terrified that you might not be considered a true believer.

“I’m only kidding, lamb. Come, let’s go.”

You followed him out the door. He directed you towards a little house closer to the cliff overlooking the coast. The architecture was similar to that of the church, but it had two stories and larger windows. The pastor led you inside and you marveled at the foyer. The walls were paneled with wide, oak slats.

“How do you take your tea?” He asked warmly.

You pinched your thigh, dying to know if you were dreaming or not. Luckily you weren’t; you were very much grounded in reality. You told the pastor how you took your tea.

“My office is down the hall, first door on the left. I’ll meet you there.”

You followed his instructions, eager to show him you were an obedient parishioner. As you made your way down the hall you noticed a door cracked open. You peeked inside and saw Eren sitting on his bed, back against the wall, fiddling with something in his lap. Your skin grew hot and you wondered if he was jerking off. You hated yourself for watching, but your curious nature overpowered you.

“Aw shit,” Eren muttered. “I just ground that up.”

He got up, moving a little plate that was resting discreetly in his lap. You sighed. He was just rolling a joint.

“I said it was the first door on the left, lamb.”

You spun around and saw Pastor Grisha holding two cups of tea.

“I… I… don’t know my right from my left.”

You gritted your teeth. It was one of your shittier lies.

“It’s alright. Come, come.”

You followed him into his office and took a seat across from him. His desk was large and made out of the same wood as the paneling on the walls. You dragged your finger across the top of it. It was smooth, not even a hint of splintering.

“Did you make this?”

“I’m flattered you think I’m that handy, but no. My son did. He tends to do most of the building and upkeep around here.”

“Wow. He operates the camera and does the maintenance?”

The pastor stifled a laugh. “No, my other son. Eren.”

You took a sip of your tea. It was exactly how you liked it.

“So, what brought you here?”

“My feet. I’m kidding, uh.”

He smiled.

“I’ve been watching you guys on channel 5 for a few months. I figured it was about time I came to see you in person.”

His eyes narrowed. “To see me?”

“I mean like, you know.” You paused, your nerves getting the better of you. “I wanted to experience this in person. Your sermons.”

You felt like he was staring through you. Like he knew every lurid thought your brain dreamt up.

“I see.”

“I got sick of the church I used to go to,” you admitted.

“And which one was that?”

“Hope Springs Eternal Ministries. It’s the one tha—”

The pastor slammed his cup of tea back on the saucer.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

He ran his hand through his hair and sighed.

“There is no need to apologize. It’s not your fault you attended the most heretical church in town.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad there.”

“Tell me, lamb.” He leaned over his desk. “Were you happy?”

“Obviously not,” you scoffed.

“What didn’t you like?”

“Too focused on money and I never have any to spare,” you explained, taking another sip of tea. “Hard to stay a believer when your salvation is tethered to how much money you can throw at someone.”

“You poor thing. It’s a tragedy you and all those other cretins are cursed to attend such a disgusting testament to God.”

“Wow. Cretins, huh?”

He blushed. “I suppose it’s my turn to apologize. It’s not their fault they’re so small minded.”

The pastor’s pretentiousness sullied your deification of him. Granted it was your fault for putting a man on a pedestal in the first place.

“Am I small minded, Pastor Grisha?”

He rubbed his foot against your shin. You swallowed hard.

“I’m not sure, lamb. Have you cut ties with your old church?”

“I haven’t been there in a few months.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

You held his gaze and tried to ignore his foot rubbing up and down the length of your leg. Silence flooded the room.

“Yes,” you finally spat out. “I don’t associate with anyone from there. Not a single person.”

He leaned over his desk and beckoned you to come closer. You leaned in and your palms started to sweat. He smelled like cedar and juniper berries. Part of you wanted to kiss him, but you refrained. He cupped your face with his right hand and ran his thumb along your bottom lip. You couldn’t tell if you were turned on or on the verge of an anxiety attack.

“Poor thing. Tell me, are you lonely?”

You hesitated to answer. You were in fact painfully lonely, especially now that you rejected everyone at Hope Springs Eternal. Grisha’s stare was so intense you could have sworn he could read your mind. Just as you went to speak the door abruptly opened. Zeke walked through carrying a bunch of camera equipment. A lit cigarette hung precariously from his mouth.

“You have to tell Hannes not to show up drunk anymore. I spent ten minutes trying to clear him out—Oh, it’s you,” he said, setting the equipment on a plush couch on the other side of the room.

The pastor dropped his hand and leaned back in his chair.

“If I tell him that he’ll never show up again,” he rued. “I hate to think about the trouble he’d get into.”

You were frozen in place, struggling to see how the pastor could be so calm after Zeke saw you on the verge of sucking his thumb.

“Zeke?” He asked. “Are you listening?”

Zeke glared at you, his grey eyes colder than an overcast day in January.

“I heard you, father,” he hissed as he exited the office, leaving the door slightly ajar.

“I oughta go. I don’t want to intrude.”

“Will you be joining us next Sunday?”

“I think so.”

You wanted to bolt for the door but remained seated. The pastor seemed to have some sort of magnetic pull on you. Getting up was out of the question until he said you could.

“I’d prefer it if you knew. Why don’t you give me your phone number so we make sure you remember to show up.”

You gulped. “Alright.”

You scribbled your number down on a sticky note and grimaced. It was a tragic attempt at a smile, but your nerves tainted it.

“I look forward to seeing you again, lamb.”

“That’s if I come back,” you laughed.

His lips became a flat line.

“You will. I’m sure of it.”

The sentence reeked of ominousness. You excused yourself and slid out the door without a word. You feared that if you opened your mouth you’d just scream. When you entered the foyer you saw a very disgruntled Zeke and a sympathetic Eren. They glanced over at you. Eren’s demeanor changed, becoming vaguely welcoming. Whereas Zeke ignored your presence.

“Bye,” you said quietly.

Eren waved and resumed comforting Zeke. Shame came over you. You assumed you were the reason Zeke looked so bothered. Though your obsession remained, you had no intention of returning.

Your phone rang at 2 am, the chime blistering your ears. You didn’t recognize the number and opted not to answer. Just as you were about to fall back asleep, your phone rang again. You declined the call and turned your phone on silent. It didn’t take long for the screen to light up; the mysterious number demanded your attention.

“What?! What is it?!”

“Sorry to bother you. I do realize I’m calling rather late.”

It was Pastor Grisha, his voice clear as day. Not a hint of sleepiness to it.

“Oh fuck, I mean, damn. Dang! Uh, what is it?” You stammered.

“I just wanted to talk to you; that’s all.”

You swallowed hard.

“About?”

“Whatever you’d like.”

You furrowed your brow. Grisha’s actions felt odd and lacking goodwill.

“I don’t have anything to say. I’m pretty tired.”

“It doesn’t matter. Just speak,” he said, his tone finally revealing some hint of urgency.

You paused and tried to think of something to say. You looked out the window at the frost coating the grass.

“It’s been cold lately. I don’t know about you but I’m not used to it. Do you remember it being… this cold?”

You heard rustling on the other end of the phone.

His answer was a clipped, “No.”

“See I’ve seen people try to say it’s always been this way.”

“Ha—have you?” He sputtered.

“Yeah. Uh, like on the news. I feel like they downplay it on purpose.”

“Uh-huh.”

The pastor's breathing grew heavier and you heard him spit in his hand. You clenched your fists and tried to think of harmless things he could be doing. Maybe he had something stuck in his teeth and spit it into the sink.

“It’s gotta be an environmental thing.”

“Climate change,” he choked out.

“You know one of the reasons I started hating Hope Springs Eternal was the pastor not believing in ‘global warming.’ Shows how much he knows, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m, uh, assuming you believe in it.”

“Yes,” he moaned. “It beckons the eschaton.”

You paused, trying to collect your thoughts and ignore what was happening on the other end of the phone.

“Did I tell you to stop?”

“It’s just… That’s a rather disconcerting thought, pastor.”

“Call me Grisha.”

“Okay… Grisha.”

You could hear his hand sliding up and down his cock. You paced around your room. You knew you should have hung up, that this was wrong. But the inappropriateness drew you in. You felt powerful knowing you managed to break down Grisha’s defenses and make him behave like a pitiful sinner.

“Are you close?” You asked.

“Y—yes,” he responded, the words stumbling out of his mouth.

“I hope you realize how loathsome this is.”

You heard a low groan followed by panting, and hung up. You were ashamed of the wet spot in your underwear. You thumbed through your drawer for a fresh pair, slipping them on before crawling back into bed. You lied awake, staring at the ceiling, and tried to make sense of what happened. Masturbating crossed your mind, but it would’ve been unholy. You opted to close your eyes and pray that morning came quickly.

You initially had no intention to return to the little church on the coast, but it wasn’t as if you had anything better to do. As you crested the hill you saw Zeke standing by the cliff, staring out into the ocean. The back of his shirt was speckled with red stains. A cloud of cigarette smoke lingered around him caught in the cold, morning air.

You walked towards him, your hands shoved in your pockets.

“Hi,” you said.

He perked up and side-eyed you.

“Yeah?”

“I just wanted to say good morning.”

“Well, you said it.”

He tossed his cigarette off the cliff and headed towards the church. You trailed after, embarrassed that you reached out to him. Entering the church you were pleasantly surprised to see Eren sitting in the pews. You grabbed a seat in the same row as him but kept your distance.

“C’mere. No need to sit so far away, sister.”

You scooched over to him. He was much more personable than his brother or his father.

“Sister? Wow. So formal.”

He blushed.

“Sorry. It’s a habit I can’t break for the life of me.”

“It’s fine… brother.”

He snickered. “You know for the longest time I used to say it like Hulk Hogan.”

“You mean like, ‘Bruhthurrrrr!’” You mimicked.

“Ha! Exactly.”

“What was your favorite verse? Austin 3:16?”

“You know it,” he said cheekily.

Service began and Grisha spent the majority of the time comparing various atrocities to the Book of Revelation. It was more militant than his previous sermons. Never before had he ever dropped a reference to a “holy war”, but today that seemed to be the running theme.

To say it made you uncomfortable would be the least. But still you found yourself hanging on his every word. You pictured yourself charging through a broken landscape. Flames ripping through cracks in the earth. Locusts fluttering about. The stench of carnage filling your nose. A hideous, rotted beast rising from a bottomless pit. The bodies of sinners heaped high into the heavens; those still cursed with life gnawing on their tongues in agony. It was horrific, but you felt pride. If you lived a virtuous enough life you could fight in God’s army and live in His light eternally.

You were ripped away from your nightmarish fantasy when Eren’s sweet voice blessed your ears.

“Was the sermon that boring?”

“What? No, I was just thinking about it.”

“It’s all good. Trust me, I zone out the second my dad starts talking.”

You wished that was what you had done. You missed the mindlessness you could indulge in on Sundays. Ever since you started attending service you were hypervigilant, bordering on too aware. You stretched your arms over your head and stood up, hoping it would quiet your disturbing thoughts.

“Shit. I should’ve introduced myself earlier. But, uh, my name’s Eren.”

“I know,” you laughed, and then told him yours.

“Now that’s a pretty name.”

Your face grew warm upon hearing his compliment. “Well, I’m off,” you said cheerfully.

“It was nice talking to you. Happy to be around a normal person for once.

You giggled. If only you were a normal person. You bid Eren farewell and headed towards the door. Just as you were about to step outside the threshold of the church, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned around to see Grisha.

“Where are you off to, lamb?”

“Home.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Why?”

“I was hoping you’d come back to the parsonage so I could properly apologize for my… indiscretion.”

You had tried so hard to forget about him jerking off while talking on the phone with you, how he punctured you with the sword of his mouth. You knew you should’ve declined his invitation and set a boundary between the two of you. But you were smitten despite how much the pastor unsettled you.

“Okay,” you relented.

Once in his office he collapsed onto the couch, resting the back of his hand on his forehead.

“So,” you began. “Are you going to apologize?”

“I think you should be the one apologizing to me.”

“What? But you said—”

“I’m well aware of what I said.” He fixed his gaze on you. “However, you tempted me to share in your plagues.”

“I didn’t do shit. You’re the one that called me up.”

“You didn’t have to answer.”

“You called me three times!”

He exhaled deeply.

“I suppose I am partially to blame.”

“Jesus fucking Christ! You’re fully to blame,” you seethed.

“Why are you being so hostile? Come, sit beside me.”

For whatever reason you did as you were told. You sat next to him and stared at your shoes like a child about to be reprimanded.

“I feel as though you solely exist to tempt me, like some sort of divine punishment. Tell me, lamb, are you clothed with the sun or are you a whore that sits on many waters?”

“I don’t know…” You thought about the lewd thoughts that often plagued your mind. “I guess the latter.”

“I see,” he said, placing his hand on your thigh. “I can save you, if you let me.”

“And how exactly would you do that?” You asked, glancing down at the bulge growing in his pants.

He squeezed your thigh and turned to face you. His eyes were dark with ardor. He only ever looked this passionate when he was preaching.

“I’d rather show than tell, lamb.”

He started to unzip his pants, revealing his hard cock. You turned away and stared at the wall. He latched onto your wrist and placed your hand on it. You prayed for God to stop your underwear from getting soaked.

“Are you afraid?” He asked.

“No. But this… isn’t right.”

“You have nothing to fear. I’m your savior. You should trust me.”

You faced him. He didn’t look untrustworthy. What would he gain from pulling the wool over your eyes? You needed to be saved. You were lucky this man had decided you were worth his time. You squeezed his cock, watching his reaction. He blushed.

“There’s no reason to be shy,” he cooed.

He repositioned himself so he was lying on his back, pulling you on top of him. He lifted up your dress and pulled your underwear off, throwing them to the side. You had taken to wearing prairie dresses with high necklines and white ruffled collars to fit in amongst the congregants. Oddly enough this made the men pay more attention to you, notably Grisha.

He guided his cock inside you. Your breath hitched as it stretched out your tight cunt. It had been years since anyone had fucked you. You gritted your teeth and breathed heavily through your nose.

“Am I hurting you?” He groaned while thrusting into you.

“Yes!” You yelped.

He placed his hands under your ass, lifting you up, leaving only the tip inside. You braced yourself by putting your hands on his tense shoulders. He peered up at you and tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear.

“That wasn’t my intention,” he grunted.

He pulled your body closer, keeping it flush to his, and started to ease his cock back inside you. You held his face in your hands and kissed him. Your lips overlapped his in a desperate attempt at intimacy. You wanted him to feel your passion and love, that you weren’t some trollop that waltzed in to simply whore herself out.

He slowly pushed his cock deeper into you, his hips rocking ever so slightly. You whined through the kiss before breaking it.

“Fuck. It’s too much,” you whined. “Can you get on top?”

He was more than happy to oblige, lifting you up and resting you on your back while his cock continued to throb inside you.

“How’s that?” He asked breathily.

“Much better,” you moaned.

He smiled and lifted your dress up higher. He pushed down the cups of your bra and groped your breasts.

“Harder,” you mewled.

He pinched one of your pert nipples, letting out a tiny laugh as you squealed. You grabbed ahold of his ass, driving his cock deeper into you. A few tears fell from your eyes as he bottomed out, his cock ramming into your cervix. You bit down on your bottom lip and tried to hold back an agonized moan. But the ache invading your body needed to be heard.

Grisha’s thrusts grew more erratic and his groans became louder. He had been starved of intimacy for so long. His desperate hymn radiated through your body. You found yourself being overcome by ecstasy. It was as if God was shining His holy light down on you. It took everything out of you to start babbling the Lord’s Prayer.

You happened to glance out the window and saw Zeke standing outside, partially obscured by a Monterey cypress. You knitted your brow and swallowed hard, nearly choking on your spit.

“Wh—what is it? Am I still hurting you?” He asked, thrusting away, his eyes now shut as rapture consumed him.

You squinted as if it would give you a better look at Zeke.

“It’s nothing. Keep going.”

You hugged him closer as his cock leaked precum inside you. You prayed Zeke couldn’t see anything. But alas you were wrong. Zeke had adjusted his position, revealing that he was fucking his fist. His pants hung around his ankles. It made you nauseous and you felt as if your entire body went cold, like your blood turned to ice.

“I—I’m going to wash away your sins with my seed.”

You felt disgusted by everything: Zeke masturbating to the sight of his father fucking you, Grisha’s ostentatious assumption his cum was a sacrament, the fact you still found yourself reeling from the rapturious pleasure of Grisha’s cock slamming into your cervix. He dropped one of his hands and rubbed your clit, leaving you a quivering mess.

You wanted to hold back, to have him come inside you and walk out of his office with some form of dignity. But it was impossible. Your unstoppable moans flooded the room.

“That’s it, lamb. Let it all go,” he grunted as he came, fucking his cum into your cunt.

Once he was finished he got up and tucked his cock back into his pants. You were rendered immoveable, body glued to the couch.

“It’s time for you to go,” he said solemnly, zipping and buttoning his pants.

You wordlessly tucked your breasts back into your bra and pulled your dress down. You scurried out of his office, passing Eren on your way out.

“Oh shit! Hey!”

“I’m leaving,” you mumbled, not actually hearing what he said.

“What?” He asked, his eyes filling with concern.

“I have to go!” You cried out while speed walking away from the parsonage.

You quickly glanced over your shoulder and saw him chasing after you, his long hair flowing in the wind.

“Wait up, sister,” he shouted.

“Leave me alone! Just… please. Don’t. I—I just wanna go home,” you said, having regained some level of composure.

You stopped; your feet felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. You felt Grisha’s come seep out of your cunt, dripping down the inside of your thigh.

“Did something happen to you?” He asked.

You shivered.

“No. No. No,” you repeated mindlessly.

He narrowed his eyes, his stare fixated on the rumpled state of your dress.

“Who was it?” He asked.

“No one. It was nothing,” you mumbled as your legs finally found it in them to move.

“Are you going to get home okay? I can drive you back to town.”

“Stop! I don’t even know you. I think I can manage on my own.”

Part of you wanted to collapse in his arms and weep, but you were sick of relying on these men for comfort, for a smidgen of solace. Eren didn’t seem to pick up on your distaste. He took a few more steps towards you before stopping.

“Tell me, sister. Was it my dad?”

“Didn’t I say it was no one?” You seethed, clenching your jaw.

You didn’t return to church the following Sunday or the Sunday after that even though Grisha incessantly called you. Instead you watched a live feed of the service at Hope Springs Eternal. You were able to lose yourself in the pompous extravagance. It wasn’t particularly pleasant. The sermon was the typical “poor people are poor because they don’t love God enough.” But it was nice to not hear rants about fighting in God’s army. Plus you thoroughly enjoyed roasting your old church.

“Idiots,” you muttered, shoving your hand in a box of cereal. “That guy doesn’t love God enough because his toupee isn’t on straight.”

You laughed with a mouthful of cereal and nearly choked on your giggle fit.

However you grimaced when the pastor brought out a rattlesnake. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he spoke in tongues.

“What is this? Fear Factor?”

Suddenly the crowd erupted into a shrieking mass of glossolalia, throwing themselves at the ground, as the pastor held the snake above his head. You were shocked to see the church had become such a spectacle while you were gone.

“Well that’s unsettling,” you said, turning off your television. “I hope the snake is okay.”

Pastor Grisha’s sermons suddenly seemed reasonable in comparison to whatever the fuck it was you’d just witnessed. You stared at your phone and picked it up. It felt like a stone in your hand. You called Grisha, hoping he wouldn’t answer.

Much to your disappointment he picked up on the first ring.

“Hi,” you said solemnly.

“My precious lamb, have you decided to come crawling back?”

You clenched your fists, your fingernails leaving valleys in your palm.

“Do you guys speak in tongues and handle snakes?”

“I run a church. Not a sideshow.”

“I take that as a no then.”

“That’s all ceremonial grandeur. It’s not of God.”

“Isn’t it in The Bible?”

“Much of The Bible is not to be taken literally.”

“Fair enough…”

“Why do you ask?”

You sighed. “Hope Springs Eternal livesteams their servi—”

“Heretical bastards!”

“Don—Don’t you broadcast your sermons on television? How is that any different?”

“Because I’m right goddammit! Even if I wanted to stop, I couldn't! It’s God’s will! How am I supposed to deny his desires?!”

“I—”

“What I do… What I do is necessary. It’s my duty. Only I can lead us on the virtuous path.”

“What about your sons?”

“Zeke’s more than capable, but he let his brain get eaten away by lust.”

“What about Eren?”

“He’s charming, but a lost cause. Noncommittal. He’s not a firm believer.” He exhaled. “It has to be me. There’s no other option.”

He sounded almost wistful, like he was being forced to do these things against his own will.

“It is how things are and have to be,” he mumbled. “I wasn’t exactly interested in this, but when God calls you don’t bury your head in the sand.”

“I guess. But you could stop. You know that, right? It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“Who am I to question the Hand of God, lamb? I’m a mere man. If He isn’t guiding me, I’ll stray. It’s—It’s hard… for me. You’d know that better than anyone.”

You held your breath. You were used to a level of opaqueness he operated under. To hear Grisha express doubt in the Lord bothered you. He was supposed to be different, to be stronger than the average pastor. One that was steadfast in his beliefs.

“I’ve missed seeing you,” he sighed.

“I doubt that.”

“It’s true. I need you. I’m lost without you.”

“I thought I was a temptress, a whore sitting on many waters or whatever.”

“Hush, lamb. Promise me you’ll come back next Sunday,” he pleaded.

“I’ll think about it,” you hissed before hanging up.

You were pissed Grisha’s plea managed to convince you. You showed up at the church the next Sunday dressed in a plain black prairie dress, something that wouldn’t make you stand out amongst the plain clothed men. You took your seat in the pews and didn’t make eye contact with anyone.

A familiar voice coming from behind you. “Hi!”

“Hey, Eren,” you said, a small smile crossing your face.

“It’s nice to see you, sister. I was worried about you.”

“I’m alright. No reason to be concerned.”

You wanted to placate him, but your tone was too clipped. It was like you were brandishing a knife after every word. Eren’s green eyes were tinged with worry, but he grinned and took a seat beside you. Service began as it usually did, but you noticed Zeke and the camera equipment were nowhere to be found.

“Are you guys not filming anymore?” You asked in a hushed tone.

“Hm? Oh, not today.”

You raised an eyebrow and decided not to think about it.

Grisha’s sermon ended up being much more benign. There was little talk of violence and not a single reference to God’s wrath. As he preached you zoned out.

“Am I boring you, sister?” Grisha asked pointedly.

You perked up and shook your head. He glared at you briefly before resuming the sermon. Nothing weird was happening, but there was an oddness in the air, like something unseen to only you was brewing. Even Eren started to look a little antsy.

“Who here needs to be healed?” Grisha suddenly asked.

You turned to Eren, but his eyes were fixated on the floor. Your body went cold. No one was speaking. Everyone’s eyes were trained on you. You sunk down into the pew, hoping people would forget you were even there. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Sister,” Grisha suddenly said.

You weren’t used to him addressing you in a formal way.

“Yes,” you said cheerfully. You wanted to pull the wool over everyone’s eyes. Maybe if you were pleasant, the mood in the church would change.

“Do you need to be healed?”

“Nope. I, uh, I think I’m good.”

“Who here thinks our sister needs to be healed?”

The men all raised their hands at once. You were aghast to see Eren slowly raising his hand, eyes still focused on the floor in front of him.

“Seriously?” You asked in a hushed voice.

He gave you nothing in response.

“I think we’ve come to a consensus,” Grisha said, leaving the pulpit. “Let’s gather around our sister.”

Everytime he said “sister” you felt like you swallowed a razor blade. You hated hearing it, but speaking up was thankless. It wouldn’t do anything. You were outnumbered. The men gathered around you, all with rather blank looks on their faces. Their eyes were flat and shark-like.

“You guys can’t be serious.”

One of the men placed their hand on your shoulder. The others followed suit and placed their hands on your shoulders, back, and the top of your head. You directed a pleading stare towards Eren.

“It’s fine. They’re not gonna hurt you,” he muttered.

You wanted to attack him like a wild animal, rip into his skin and pluck out his pretty, green eyes. You barely knew him, but somehow this was the ultimate betrayal.

“Fucker,” you said under your breath.

You breathed deeply to calm yourself. It was true. The men weren’t hurting you, at least on a physical level. The church was silent other than your labored breathing and the offshore winds occasionally rattling the windows.

“Do you have anything you’d like to repent for?” Grisha asked.

You flared your nostrils. “No.”

“Are you sure?” A drunk parishioner slurred.

You refused to answer.

“Are you sure?” Grisha repeated.

“Yes,” you answered in your most authoritative tone.

“You made eyes at me during service,” one of the men said. “You gave me a look.”

“What? I don’t even know you.”

“I saw you do it,” another one said.

Another tightened his grip on your shoulder.

“We all saw,” he rumbled.

The door of the church flung open. For a brief moment relief came over you.

“Sorry I’m late—Oh, so we are doing this,” Zeke said, fastening the last few buttons on his shirt.

“You’re just in time,” Grisha said cheerfully.

“Is this really necessary?” Zeke asked, surveying the situation.

“Do you doubt me?” Grisha asked.

Zeke nervously scratched behind his ear. “No.”

He took a seat on the floor near the door and stared at his feet much like Eren did. You wanted to scream, but you were frozen by God’s apparent will. The men continued their chorus of “I saw you” and proceeded to accuse you of other minor offenses you never committed. Every so often you denied the accusations, but after a while your mind began to slip. Had you given a lusty stare to someone? You couldn’t be sure anymore.

“I did it,” you finally said dejectedly. “All of it.”

The men removed their hands and went back to their seats. Grisha sighed and returned to the pulpit.

“Don’t you feel better now? Don’t you feel cleansed?”

You mindlessly nodded.

“Did you finally let the Lord into your hideous heart?”

Again, you nodded. The service ended with little fanfare and everyone left quickly. You found yourself tethered to your seat, unable to move lest you be accused of heresy. Eren remained as well.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“No. You’re not… But it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine.”

“Well then why didn’t you help me? You were right there.”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it because I deserve it? Am I that bad?”

“No.”

“Then why did they do that to me?!” You shouted.

“I don’t kn—”

“You don’t seem to know anything, brother.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t mean shit!” Tears welled up in your eyes and your throat burned from yelling after being so quiet. “I… Fuck!”

You kicked the pew in front of you. You didn’t know what to do. Eren probably was sorry. He probably didn’t have much pull over Grisha. What could he have done? You knew you were innocent; none of those sins were yours. The parishioners hadn’t even brought up your daliences with Grisha. Though it’s not like they’d have any information that would make the pastor look bad.

“I don’t think this will make you feel any better. But it’s happened to me a lot. I know how it feels.”

He scooched closer to you and cleared his throat.

“My relationship with God is complicated. It has been since my mom died.”

“That doesn’t make me feel sorry for you,” you hissed. “Everyone has a complicated relationship with God.”

He kept talking. “It usually goes longer. The last time it happened to me it was two hours of getting told I was useless. A drug addict. One guy even called me the Antichrist which made my dad stop everything. He ended up punching him.”

“That’s horrible.”

“It sounds worse than it actually is, sister.”

You couldn’t imagine suffering through an hour consumed by hands laying upon you. You were angry Eren downplayed it, trying to act like it wasn’t all that bad. It was a horrific experience. Not one you’d ever want to return to. You stood up and walked away. You didn’t bother saying goodbye to Eren. He was too lost in his own mind.

Once outside you saw Zeke standing near the edge of the cliff smoking as usual. You made your way over to him. The sunlight danced behind low hanging clouds, occasionally illuminating him in a heavenly way. Instead of the usual scowl, he gave a solemn, “Hello.”

You hated how much he looked like his father. It made you want to be mean to him.

“Are you alright?” He asked, taking a drag off his cigarette.

“I guess. I don’t know. I can’t tell yet.”

“Ah, yeah. That’s the worst part. Don’t worry,” he said, stretching his arms. “You’ll realize how awful it was when you’re trying to sleep tonight.”

You were already plotting how to induce insomnia. Zeke placed his hand on your shoulder. You were too exhausted to flinch. He took a few steps closer until you were finally in his arms, your face buried in his neck. He rubbed your back and you proceeded to sob. You felt silly for breaking down in a stranger’s arms, but Zeke was there. He was tangible, something you could hold onto.

His hands trailed down your back, resting them on your ass.

“Need a distraction?” His breath was hot against your ear.

You sniffled. You could feel his semi-hard cock through his pants.

“I guess. I—I have no idea how you could help me though,” you muttered dejectedly.

“Trust me, sister. I have plenty of ideas.”

He tightened his grip on your ass and rubbed his erection against you. You stared out over his shoulder at gentle waves licking the shore. You wanted to lose yourself in his broad-shouldered embrace.

“You can do whatever you want,” you mewled.

He let go of your ass and held onto your face by the jaw. His fingers were calloused, but the roughness of his touch was spirituous. He forced his leg between your thighs. He had a sick grin on his face. You tried to ignore it as you rubbed up against his leg. Instead you focused on how good his body felt on your clit. You dragged your throbbing cunt up and down his thigh, your breath hitching when the friction became too much.

He forced you to look him in the eyes as you pleasured yourself against him. You wanted to find kindness in his gaze but there was none, just lust. You started to unbutton his shirt while he hurriedly unzipped his pants. You kissed him, biting down on his bottom lip. He groaned and pulled away.

“No biting,” he chastised.

You frowned and lied down in the grass. You hiked up your dress, revealing your glistening folds. Zeke got on top of you, stroking his cock. It was girthy like his father’s, but more veiny and it lacked any sort of curve. You guided it inside you, watching Zeke’s reaction as he was greeted by your tight cunt. He looked so lecherous, so hungry for you.

“Oh God,” you moaned.

Zeke slowly thrusted; his cock filled your cunt. He stared down at you, eyes partially obscured by his glasses.

“How does that feel, sister?”

“Like heaven.”

“Ca—can I hit you?”

The idea of his hand gracing your face thrilled you to no end. You welcomed any sensation that would make you forget the numerous hands that had previously invaded your body.

“Please.”

His hand was swift across your face, leaving a stinging pain in its wake.

“Again,” you pleaded, stroking his cheek.

He was more than happy to oblige. He thrusted his cock deeper inside you and slapped you again. You pulled him into a kiss, pushing your tongue past his teeth. His tongue tasted of tobacco. The woody, sour taste overtook your mouth.

His hands roaming your body was a blessing. His touch healed the wounds left behind the parishioners. You never wanted to let him go. Your fingers were tangled in his soft, flaxen hair. You twirled a lock in between your fingers and tugged on it. He let out a muted yelp you soon swallowed. He broke the kiss, panting as he bottomed out. Your body writhed underneath his, swimming in the shadow of this saint.

“How does it feel, sister?” He asked, holding you down.

“Good,” you gasped.

He grabbed ahold of your jaw again, his grey eyes tunneling holes through yours. You wanted to live in his light, until your body rotted away into dust. You tightened your walls around him. He groaned, his hips bucking against your limp body. You were putty in his hands.

You slid his suspenders off and yanked down his pants. You held onto his plush ass, pulling him towards you so his cock kissed your cervix. His hips seemed to skip a beat as his cock leaked precum inside your cunt. A needy moan fell from his lips and he shut his eyes.

“Can I come inside you?” He quickly asked.

You eagerly nodded. He let out a few desperate whimpers as he drove his cock in you, your fluids intermingling. He was panting harder, his cheeks now a pretty pink. He bucked his hips as his cock shot cum into the depths of your cunt.

“Do you like that, sister?” He asked, fucking you harder.

“Yes,” you squealed.

Once he finished he slid his cock out of you and lowered himself down to your cunt. He lapped at the cum seeping out of it, tongue flicking your clit.

“Say my name when you come,” he ordered.

You dug your fingers into the grass as your body quivered. Zeke ran his hands up and down your legs as he sucked his cum out of you, the lurid noise harmonizing with the waves.

“Zeke,” you mewled as you saw white.

You felt like you were ascending as your body squirmed against his face, his beard tickling the inside of your thighs. You were too lost in your orgasm to hear the footsteps stomping through the grass. Zeke looked up at you, smiling. He rested his head on your thigh and sighed dreamily.

“Are you interested in doing anything else, sister?”

You ignored his question and posed your own. “Why were you jerking off while I was fucking your father?”

His gaze hardened.

“It’s not as if I was looking at him.” He kissed your thigh and took on a kinder tone. “It’s not our fault none of us know how to behave around women… It doesn’t help that we all have a sick crush on you.”

“How are you gonna solve that problem, huh?”

“I did talk to you first. If you belong to any of us, it’s me.”

“I don’t belong to any of you,” you said, unable to hide your disgust.

“Don’t you want to be mine?”

You rustled his hair. He was cute in a tragic sense. It was strange to see such a domineering man rendered down to an endearing puddle of goo. You alternated between wanting to toss him off the cliff, and marrying him.

You were ripped from your peace by the sound of rustling grass growing closer and closer. Zeke glanced up and his face fell. You craned your head back and saw Grisha standing there, clutching his worn down bible to his chest.

“How could you?” Grisha lamented; his question directed at you.

Zeke sat up and pulled your dress back down.

“Are you jealous?” He taunted.

Grisha glared at his son. Although Zeke’s expression was haughty, it had a tinge of uneasiness. It was warranted. The pastor launched his bible at his son, hitting him square in the nose. Blood seeped from it, staining his white shirt red.

“You’re going to hell for that,” Zeke said, covering his nose with his hand.

“Well I’ll see you there, you disgraceful whoremonger!”

You frowned at the notion of you being a whore. It was an accusation you never got used to. You weren’t chaste by any means, but this was the most action you had in awhile.

“Did you not lie with her too?” Zeke asked, standing up and stepping over you to get closer to his father. “I saw you. I bore witness.”

Grisha blushed, clearly horrified by this revelation. “I—I was saving her!”

“You have a really funny way of saving people then.”

You grew tired of their bickering. You found your underwear hiding amongst the cat grass and slipped them on. You bounded off to the path that led down to the beach. Neither of the men noticed you left.

The wind had calmed down, making the journey less precarious. You kicked off your shoes and dug your toes into the sand. Such a simple thing and yet it was the best you felt in years. You walked closer towards the ocean, digging your feet deeper into the sand with every step. Once the water licked your heels you swam out, submerging yourself in a mellow wave. You held your breath as it washed over you. You dove deeper as the currents pulled you further from the shore.

Salt water weaseled its way into your eyes, killing any sense of comfort you found in the lull of the waves. You let your body float to the surface. Resting on your back, you stared up at the overcast sky. You looked like a pathetic version of Ophelia, madness driving you out into the sea. It was hard to be serene while coughing. The salt burned your throat and left your tongue numb.

You were decidedly less glamorous than any Millais painting. But that didn’t matter. You couldn’t care less about how you appeared. Maybe this was pathetic. Maybe you were wading in madness. But was that a bad thing? You’d be in good company. Even Jesus’s family and followers thought he was insane on occasion, possessed by demons, riddled with paranoia. And yet he was a paragon of holiness, of a just life.

The sun peeked out from behind the low-hanging clouds, a little beam of sunlight bled through. The first you’d seen in awhile. It looked like glitter ebbing along with the waves.

“Nice,” you whispered.

Your phone rang constantly. You thought about blocking Grisha's number, but you wanted to hear the desperation in his voice and if he still thought he could save you. Much to your disappointment he never left a single voicemail.

Nothing seemed to completely sever the attachment you had to them. You thought about Zeke fucking you in a field constantly, though on occasion you imagined he was Eren. You found yourself missing the brunette. He was always nice to you. His only major misstep being that he didn’t help you when you were assaulted.

Twinges of resentment remained a plague. You knew Eren was just as much a victim as you. But there remained a pervasive sense of betrayal. It was such a strong feeling for someone you barely knew.

There was some relief knowing they were no closer to God than you.

Eventually one early Sunday morning, your curiosity got the better of you and you answered when Grisha called you for the umpteenth time. You reclined on your couch, watching Hope Springs Eternal’s live stream with the volume turned down.

“Did you call to jerk off to the sound of my voice?” You asked haughtily.

“What? No, sister. I’m not a pig.”

You were surprised to hear Eren’s voice.

“Oh… Hey? Why are you calling from your father’s phone?”

“Psh. My dad wishes he had his own phone. We all share the one in his office.”

“Okay. Uh, what’s up? Did something happen?”

He sighed. “No. I just miss talking to you.”

“I’m sure there are other parishioners to talk to.”

Eren paused. “Actually there aren’t any. My dad stopped opening up service to the public and kicked everyone out. We just do the TV thing now.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Last Sunday he said something about someone taking his lamb to the slaughter? And how he is not fit to be a shepherd because he tasted the waters of Babylon. I tried asking him about it, but he didn’t want me to bear his burden which I appreciate. But on the other hand, I’d like to know what the fuck is going on.”

You knitted your brow and asked, “How’s Zeke?”

“A disaster. He smokes inside now. I can’t remember the last time I saw him with a shirt on. And he’s been asking me for weed which is… I don’t mind sharing, but my tolerance is high. It takes a lot to calm this mess down.” He punctuated his sentence with a soft chuckle. “Also he films dad at a Dutch angle. I don’t know, sister. It’s all bad.”

You wanted to hug him, hold him close and like a vice.

“I guess I can stop by, if you want.”

“Really? You’d be down?”

“As long as I don’t see your father, I don’t mind. He’ll be busy preaching, right?”

“Yup!”

“I’ll see you in a few then.”

“Wow. Really? It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

You assured Eren it was no problem and hung up.

Looking through your wardrobe, you hated yourself for getting rid of all your secular clothing. You burned it all in a religious fury, replacing everything with long dresses, with high necklines accentuated with oversized collars, and long sleeves. Your most plain one was still stiff with ocean water. You ended up settling on one in your favorite color.

When you arrived you expected the church to be in ruins. It was a rather hyperbolic thought. But given what Eren told you, your mind felt free to wander down darkened paths. You didn’t dare approach the church proper, instead heading for the back door of the parsonage.

The tide was low, the stench ever present. You dry heaved every couple seconds. You stepped closer to the cliff and saw the rotting carcasses of fish. You hadn’t heard anything about a major die off. You pinched your nostrils shut and swallowed the spit collecting in your mouth.

“It’s gross, ain’t it?” Eren said, walking over to you. “Let’s get inside.”

He held the door open for you and shut it tight. The sound of door slamming made you jump.

“I’m sorry. I’m tryna keep the smell out as best I can,” he said sheepishly.

“It’s okay. I’d rather you be aggressive towards inanimate objects than smell death.”

“You want coffee? I just made a pot. Or do you like tea? I can make tea. Or we can have both. Best of both worlds. Like Hannah Montana,” he rattled off nervously. He shut his eyes tight and sighed deeply, very much aware of how silly he sounded.

“Coffee is fine.”

“How do you take it?”

You explained in great detail how you like your coffee. Eren was shaky and needed the specificities even if your request was on the simpler side. You took a seat at the dining table, one he clearly built. He carefully prepared your cup and placed it in front of you with a very prideful grin on his face. You thanked him and took a sip. It was perfect.

You wasted no time and started to question Eren on the current state of the church the moment he sat at the table.

“Pastor Grisha kicked everyone out?”

Eren winced, hearing you call his father that.

He took a sip of his coffee. “Yeah. He won’t tell me anything though. He does his sermons and then he spends the rest of his time in his office, muttering weird shit like ‘Where did I go wrong?’ and ‘He slaughtered my little lamb.’’

You snicked. “He’s talking about me.”

“What makes you so sure, sister?”

“I fucked your father, brother.”

“I know,” he answered casually.

“And I fucked your brother. Your father caught us in the little clearing by the cliff.”

“I told Zeke not to do that.” Eren said, the vibrancy of his eyes completely dulled.

“You knew?”

“Duh.. He’s my brother. I know everything about him.”

“Did he tell you he jerked off while your dad fucked me?”

“Unfortunately. He… He was desperate and he really likes you. I’m not saying it was right. He’s got some shit to work through.”

“You really care about him, huh?”

“Why wouldn’t I, sister? I love him,” he said cheerfully.

“Where is he?”

“Probably asleep. Service doesn’t start for another hour and a half.”

“I’m very much awake,” his voice boomed from down the hall.

He stepped out of his room clothes in only a tiny pair of grey underwear that left little to the imagination. His back was covered in spindly welts. He had no shame, not an inkling of it. He sauntered into the room and took a seat next to Eren. He glanced back and forth at the two of you. A skimpy joint was tucked behind his ear.

“What’s she doing here?” He asked Eren.

“You can ask her yourself. She’s right there.”

Zeke turned his attention towards you. “Who invited you?”

Eren groaned. “I did. I wanted to hang out with her.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure you’re just ‘hanging out.’” He said, laughing.

“I have no one to talk to! Dad's on the path to being one of those embarrassing street preachers that scream about the end of days. And you never wear clothes and only ever talk to me when you want weed!”

“Do you need a hug?” Zeke asked, his tone comically serious.

“What?! No. Go put pants on.”

“Fine. I’ll conform, if that’ll calm your ass down,” he said.

“Is he high?” You asked.

“Terminally.”

You mouthed a “wow”.

“I can’t decide what pants,” he yelled down the hall. “Come help me.”

Eren sighed. “Let’s humor him.”

The two of you made your way to Zeke’s room. It was rather barren. He had a nice sized bed, with crisp white sheets and a turmeric colored quilt folded at the foot of it. He had a small desk made from birch wood stained a muted black. The chair was the same, though a small pillow softened the seat. His closet door rested on the ground. Zeke explained it fell off the hinges and didn’t care enough to fix it. His room looked like something out of the past. The only modern thing in it was the camera equipment.

Eren frowned and lightly kicked Zeke’s broken door.

“I said I would fix this for you, dumb ass.”

“You’re so cruel. Now! Let’s get down to business.”

He grabbed a lighter off his desk and lit the joint he had behind his ear.

“What about the pants?” You asked, trying not to stare at his cock.

“The what?” He waved his hand as if that made the previous conversation disappear. “Who cares? Here, take a hit.”

“I’m okay,” you demurred.

“Aw, come on? Do you not like me anymore?”

You rolled your eyes. “No. I just feel like getting high in a parsonage goes against God’s will.”

He patted your head and passed the joint to Eren. Zeke sat down on his bed and gestured for you to join him. Briefly you resisted but he was too handsome and too willing. Maybe it was God’s will for you to merely sit beside him.

Eren took a seat next to you while puffing on the joint hanging from his lips. He passed it back to Zeke.

“I’m good for now,” he relayed.

Zeke stubbed the joint out in an ashtray and opened a window to let the smoke air out. The haze that had once permeated the room slowly ebbed out into the cold wind. You tried to focus on that instead of Zeke’s cock which appeared to be a little stiff.

“I know you’re looking, sister.”

“I am not!”

Eren laughed. “If you want I can, uh, leave you two alone.”

“No way. I’m here to see you, remember?”

Zeke rested his head on your shoulder.

“What are you saying? You don’t want to see me?”

You rustled his hair. “No. That’s hardly what I meant.”

Eren wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close to him. There was a territorial tinge to his eyes. You struggled to stifle your laughter. All of the men in this family seemed to be desperate for your attention, even Eren who on occasion seemed like a normal guy.

Zeke looked over at Eren and narrowed his eyes.

“Are you jealous I found my way to her before you?”

“Are you jealous that dad fucked her first?”

Zeke scowled. You sighed deeply and tried to ignore your attraction to them. It was a thankless task.

“Do you want to lay with me, brother?” You asked on the verge of hysterics, playing up the religious pleasantries.

Eren blushed.

“He does,” Zeke said as he sprawled out across your lap. “He told me.”

Eren was staring out across the room, desperately trying to ignore Zeke and you.

“Is that true?”

He ran his hands through his long, dark hair, the silky tendrils finding their way between his fingers.

“Yeah. Happy?”

You gazed at Eren. Your vision blurred around him; he was all you could focus on. You carefully slipped your hand under his suspenders and ran it down one of his pecs. He shivered at your touch. You rubbed his delicate nipple with your thumb.

“Get on top of him,” Zeke suggested, his head in your lap. “I’ll eat your ass if you do it, sister.”

Eren’s eyes widened. The prospect of Zeke eating your ass was very appealing. As you went to straddle Eren, Zeke grabbed your shoulder.

“Not here. The office.”

“What?! No,” you exclaimed.

“Would it make you feel dirty because that’s where you fucked our father?”

“What if he catches us?” You panicked.

“Don’t worry about it. Your brother isn’t going to let anything bad happen to you, okay?” Zeke cooed.

Eren fake gagged and corralled you into Grisha’s office. Zeke’s words did not set you at ease.

You and Zeke took a seat on the couch. He rambled on about how Pastor Grisha now ended every sermon with “Jesus wept.” Eren took off his suspenders and his pants, folding them up neatly. He stood still for a moment, caught up in his own thoughts. You were getting impatient listening to Zeke ramble on. Your desire to fuck Eren was unbearable. All your attention was focused on him.

“Alright. I’m rea—Jesus Christ! Show some restraint!” Eren shouted.

You looked over at Zeke who at some point took off his underwear. He had a smug grin on his face. His cock was standing straight up, veiny and thick as ever. He was raring to go and you hadn’t even noticed.

“I don’t like to waste time,” he responded.

You and Eren both were a little perturbed, but not enough to turn back. Lust flooded your core; you could feel it bubbling up your throat. Zeke’s cock demanded your attention, the tip of it like a red beacon. You leaned in a little closer to him and cupped his balls, squeezing them with your gentle touch. You rubbed them, your grip tightening. Zeke exhaled and lazily threw his head back, eyes shut with pleasure. He beamed; you didn’t realize he was capable of such contentment.

“I’ll let Eren fuck you first, considering I already blessed you with my seed.”

“More like you filled her with your dirt,” Eren groused.

“Just let me have this,” Zeke complained.

If you weren’t so turned on, you would have stood up and walked out the door. But you were hopelessly tethered to them, your body devoted to their light. The holiness you perceived in them made it okay.

Eren gazed at you, his eyes as fertile as a verdant field. He held out his hand which you took and walked to his father’s desk. He kicked his father’s belongings off and gestured for you to sit on it. You happily obeyed. Your total willingness made him nervous. His hands quaked as he lifted your dress and peeled off your underwear.

“Over here,” Zeke said, holding his hand up.

Eren balled up your underwear and beaned them at Zeke’s face. Zeke didn’t seem to care and took an audible whiff. Eren gripped your hips and pulled you closer to the edge of the desk. He swiped his fingers against your cunt, coating them with your fluids.

“Open wide.”

You parted your lips and sucked them clean, running your tongue along the pads of his fingers. Your cunt throbbed, aching for his touch. He spread apart your labia and ran his cock down your slit. You whimpered as he slowly plunged it inside you.

“You guys are boring,” Zeke heckled. “She’d be ruined by now if I was fucking her.”

Eren let out an annoyed groan and started to thrust. Zeke reclined on the couch, happily watching the two of you. Eren grunted as your cunt hugged around him. His movements were slow and precise, lacking any of the urgency Zeke or Grisha’s had. You wondered if he was more experienced. You thought about him fucking his way through town, not a person untouched. He was certainly handsome enough.

“Pick up the pace,” Zeke said, stroking his cock.

Eren gritted his teeth. “For the love of God, please shut up. I’m begging you.”

“I’m getting bored though. I want to hear her squeal.”

“It’s not about what you want.” Eren turned his attention towards you. “Right?”

You nodded. Zeke sighed audibly and absent mindedly stroked his cock. You couldn’t help but stare; you wanted it in your mouth.

Eren took notice and began to fuck you harder, the length of his cock consuming your cunt.

“Don’t look at him,” he sneered, grabbing a hold of your face with his free hand. “Open your mouth again.”

You did as you were told. Eren spat directly in your mouth, the action full of derision. His saliva was sweet, tinged with coffee and citrus. He glared down at you and held you by the neck, his palm barely grazing your throat. His touch was gentle unlike his gaze. He clenched his jaw and thrust into you, groaning as he bottomed out. He erupted into a symphony of grunts and moans. His long hair hung in his face and he tried to tuck it behind his ear with no luck.

You heard Zeke laugh and get up off the couch, walking over. Zeke positioned himself behind Eren and reached over his shoulders to tuck his hair behind his ear.

“You looked like you were struggling,” Zeke cooed.

Eren let go of your throat and looked over his shoulder, mildly perturbed, and nodded.

“Why do you still have your shirt on, puritan?” Zeke coyly asked, as he started to unbutton it.

“You’re pushing your luck,” Eren grunted as he drove his cock into you.

Zeke snickered and helped Eren take off his button-down.

“Now it’s a party!” He cheered, resting his head on his brother’s shoulder.

Zeke gazed down at you, the weight of his body pressed up against Eren. You were a panting mess and tried to cover your face. Your shame always got the best of you. After all, you were a Christian. The brothers loved every second of it. Your whines and sighs were their favorite hymns. Zeke grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to Eren.

“Ow!” You yelped as Eren’s cock collided into your cervix.

You gazed up at the men lording over you, their eyes devouring every inch of you like a couple of jackals.

“I’m having a hard time focusing with your cock wedged between my ass,” Eren mumbled.

“Is it too weird?” Zeke asked, backing away.

“I have an idea,” you said, pulling Eren’s cock out of you.

You sat up and gestured for Zeke to sit behind you. He happily got up on the desk and sat behind you. You nestled in between his legs, letting his cock rest up against the small of your back.

“Why do you still have this on?” Zeke murmured in your ear.

His dexterity was impressive; he managed to quickly undo all the little buttons on your dress and pulled it over your head. You could feel his heaving chest up against your back, the hair tickling your spine. Eren unhooked your bra and tossed it to the side. He guided his cock back inside your weeping cunt and began to thrust.

“That feel good?” Eren grunted.

“Y—yes,” you choked out. “So good.”

Zeke groped your breasts, tweaking your nipples in between his rough fingers. Eren gave a smoldering glare to Zeke.

“What is it, brother?” Zeke asked sarcastically. “Did you want her all to yourself?”

Eren continued to force his length into your tormented cunt. He was blushing, still glaring at Zeke. His lush brown locks hung in his face. He almost looked like Jesus. Zeke went to speak, his eyebrows knitted with concern, but Eren interrupted him with a rough kiss, ripe with insatiable yearning. He continued to thrust wildly, delving his cock into your dripping cunt. Eren was close. His moans obscured by the kiss. Zeke pulled away and cleared his throat. You managed to catch a glimpse of his beet red face as you felt a spurt of warm fluid on your back.

“Sorry, sister,” he murmured.

Eren’s balls clapped up against your taint as he pounded away. Your body tensed up in anticipation of your orgasm. Eren’s cock filled every inch of your cunt, stretching it out as his hips grinded up against you. Your skin felt like it had electricity running through it, the Holy Spirit imbuing you with its light. Your body contorted in rapture as your vision faded. All you saw was light. You felt like God Himself.

Zeke lazily started to rub your clit, lubricating his finger with your fluids, which sent you to the brink. You were entrenched in ecstasy as your orgasm crashed over you. You tried to speak but all you could do was babble, the only coherent sound being you sputtering out Eren’s name.

Eren smirked and slowed down his pace, becoming more deliberate with his thrusts.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he moaned.

He tossed his head back and filled you with his warm, milky cum. His hips bucked a few more times before he slumped forward, resting his head on your shoulder. You kissed the top of his head.

“I wanna worship you both,” you said breathily.

“Oh yeah?” Zeke asked.

Eren chuckled. “How do you plan on doing such a thing, sister?”

“Come down my throat.”

Zeke tumbled off the desk and quickly got to his feet. Eren helped you off and stood next to his brother. You got on your knees and gazed up at them. They were regal and beautiful, painfully so. You could bask in their presence for ages and never tire of it. Eren met your gaze and smiled. He stroked your cheek.

“Need some help?” Zeke asked Eren, pointing at his semi-hard cock.

Eren’s eyes widened.

“It’s cool if you don’t! I just thought since… You do realize you kissed me, right?”

Eren huffed. “Yes! I was hoping dad would walk in.”

“It’d really ruin him if he caught me jerking you off, especially so close to his precious, little lamb.”

Zeke had the mind of a demon. It disturbed you to no end, but it was just as alluring. Both of the brothers were blushing, their chests as pink as their cheeks. Eren looked down at you for guidance.

“Let him help,” you replied.

Your tone was marred with shame. You were still scared by the sin of it all, but traumatizing Pastor Grisha had its appeal after everything he had done. You needed your wanton desires to triumph, to horrify the holy man.

Eren let out a muted moan as Zeke gripped his cock. You eagerly watched as Zeke squeezed the length of it. Eren’s expression exuded an alluring agony. You lapped at his balls as Zeke hesitantly jerked him off. You rolled your tongue along the raphe, relishing in his rapturous groans. You flicked Eren’s aching cock with your tongue like a serpent.

Eren’s body relaxed a little, his shoulders not held as high. You sucked on his cock, savoring the precum dribbling from it. You worked in tandem with Zeke until Eren’s cock was throbbing and glistening with precum and spit.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Zeke asked. “I’m not playing coy. Was that okay?”

“I guess,” Eren mumbled. “Yeah.”

“Let’s just think of it as a really fun Eucharist,” Zeke replied, hip checking his brother.

You stared up at Eren and Zeke, eager to service them. You took Zeke’s cock in your mouth and swirled your tongue around the tip. He patted your head as you sucked. Drool trickled from the corners of your mouth. Eren watched intently and stepped closer to you, his erection demanding your attention. You caressed it with a tender touch. His verdant gaze fixed on you, heavy with ardor. No one had ever looked at you like that before.

You released Zeke’s cock from your mouth and masturbated him using your free hand. Zeke’s gaze matched Eren’s, his grey eyes boring holes through yours. You beckoned them to stand closer together and frotted their cocks, suckling on the tips in between jerking them off.

The sound of heavy footsteps ripped you from your debauched trance.

“Did you hear that? I think I heard—”

“Suck us off at the same time,” Zeke pleaded.

Eren nervously looked to the side, but gave you a nod. You resumed holding their cocks together and eased them into your mouth. You felt like the corners of your mouth were going to tear as you struggled to fit them in.

“Atta girl,” Zeke purred.

The footsteps grew nearer.

“Boys? We ought to start service,” you heard Grisha call out.

“Zeke,” Eren muttered.

“Hm?” He said as he watched as tears ran down your cheeks.

Eren cupped Zeke’s face in his hands and kissed him as the knob of the door jiggled. It was ripe with desperation like the previous one. Eren bit down on Zeke’s bottom lip. Your cunt throbbed at the sight. You gagged and took their cocks out of your mouth, opting instead to jerk them off.

Grisha opened the door and stepped inside. He let out a little sigh before he noticed the depravity taking place.

“Oh God, no!”.

Eren laughed, breaking the kiss.

“Why? Why would you do this?!”

You lapped at Eren and Zeke’s cock, relishing in the pained shouts coming from the pastor. Zeke bucked his hips against your fist, fucking it furiously.

“Give me an answer! What did I do to either of you to deserve this?!”

The brothers ignored his cries. Zeke nuzzled his face into Eren’s neck and rubbed the back of your head.

“I’m close,” he whimpered. “Can I come on your face, sister?”

You nodded with a big smile on your face.

“How could you do this?” Grisha asked dejectedly, holding your gaze.

You didn’t answer. Grisha was of little importance. All you cared about were his sons.

“Sorry, father,” Zeke moaned as ropes of cum splattered across your cheeks.

“I—I raised you better than this!”

Eren clenched his fist while his erection dwindled.

“I don’t think you did,” Eren replied.

Grisha was stunned. “Excuse me?”

You let go of Eren’s cock and tried to wipe away Zeke’s cum with the back of your hand. You only proceeded to make a bigger mess. Zeke got to his knees and licked the remnants off your face.

“Look at us,” Eren said. “Zeke’s been convinced he’s going to Hell since he was four years old.”

“That has nothing to do with me! I never once told him such a thing.”

“It was implied,” Zeke whispered.

Eren was undeterred. “Did you know he flagellates himself? Or do you just not pay attention to the blood stains on the backs of his shirts?”

“I can’t be aware of every little thing that goes on, Eren. You… You could have told me!”

“And what good would that have done? Would you’ve cleaned his wounds at two in the morning? Let him sob in bed with you until sunrise?”

Zeke’s eyes had glazed over, not a hint of light to them.

“I… I d—don’t know,” the pastor sputtered.

“Exactly,” Eren laughed. “See, I didn’t even have to think about it. And you know what’s really fucked up? I didn’t learn that from you.”

“Eren, I…”

“And it’s not like I came out of this unscathed! Why do you think I’m high all the fucking time? I can’t deal with the overwhelming guilt an—and shame for not being whatever it is you wanted me to be.”

You wanted to run out of the office and leave everything behind. The situation was too much to bear. Eren’s rage, Zeke’s dissociation, the fact the three of you were still naked.

“I’m… going to go,” Zeke said suddenly.

He stood up and breezed past his father like he wasn’t even there. You remained a distressed heap on the floor.

“Eren, I’m sorry,” Grisha whispered.

“Oh my God,” Eren laughed again. “No. No, you’re not.”

Grisha’s face fell and he turned his attention towards you. You were to bear the brunt of his discontent.

“This is your doing, isn’t it?”

“Don’t try to pin this on her. She was just a catalyst.”

Grisha shook his head, resuming his previous pathetic visage. “My son, what can I do to make this right?”

Eren held out his hand to you and helped you up. You quickly found your dress and yanked it over your head.

“Nothing. You fucked up,” he responded, getting dressed. “You might as well find some poor woman to bear you a new son. Maybe you won’t fuck him up though you never seemed like the learning type.”

Eren led you past Grisha and out of the office.

“I know this is asking a lot, but could I stay with you for a bit?” Eren asked matter-of-factly.

You tried to shake yourself from your daze. Grisha’s words still haunted you.

“My apartment’s kinda small, but sure?”

“Thank you. I’m gonna go grab some stuff and then we can head out.”

Eren left you in the foyer to grab his keys from his room. Grisha approached you, desperate to convince you to stay with him.

“My precious lamb—”

“Don’t.”

“Please, I want to explain.”

“Stop talking to her,” Eren called out, pulling on a jacket.

Grisha glared at him momentarily before sighing and walking off. You didn’t think he’d give up on you so quickly. It was strange to see him so subdued and broken. You felt a twinge of sympathy, but it was gone as fast as it came. Grisha didn’t deserve any goodwill.

“You’ll be back,” he murmured, stepping into his office and slamming the door shut.

Eren and you set off for his car and hopped inside. It was a boring sedan, an older model from the early 90s, and it reeked of marijuana. He put his keys in the ignition as a smile crossed his face.

“You alright?” You asked.

He started the car and drove away from the parsonage, a few tears fell from his eyes.

“Yeah. It… It was a long time coming, but honestly I have no idea what I’m gonna do now.”

“We carry similar burdens. We can figure it out together.”

You liked the idea of healing with Eren, growing past your oppressive Christian upbringings and seeing the world anew. He rested his hand on your thigh and looked in his rear-view mirror.

“Is that?” He said, his green eyes popping out of his head.

It was Zeke, hauling ass after the car. He was sprinting like he was competing for a spot in the Summer Olympics. His form was astounding. He always looked like an athlete.

“Oh shit,” Eren said, stifling a laugh. “Hold on.”

He pulled over and waited until Zeke tapped on the window. Eren unlocked the car and Zeke crawled into the backseat. His shirt was barely buttoned and his fly was down. His flaxen hair was more askew than usual.

“I can’t believe you were going to leave me,” he said, catching his breath.

“You wandered off! I didn’t know where you went.” Eren scrambled for the right words. “I—I would’ve called you.”

“How? I don’t have a phone and neither do you.”

“Well, you’re here with us now and that’s all that matters,” you said, trying to settle the brothers down.

It seemed to work. Zeke exhaled and rested his head on the window, gazing out into the ocean. You weren’t sure how you’d make this all work. Your apartment had a single bedroom and not much space for two grown men, but you were determined to make it work. After everything you all had been through it was crucial you remained together, at least until the wounds healed. And the stinging guilt of turning your back on Pastor Grisha and God subsided.

“This is gonna sound kinda stupid, but… I don’t know what I would have done without you guys. I felt lost for so long. Going to church and hating myself for not being the most pious person. Getting wrapped up in your father’s crap. But you, uh, you both changed that. You saved me.” You tacked on a nervous laugh. “Somehow.”

The car fell silent and you felt silly for making such a claim.

Eren broke the silence. “We saved each other.”

#zeke yeager x reader #eren yeager x reader #grisha yeager x reader #zeke jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x reader #grisha jaeger x reader #snk smut #aot smut #attack on titan smut #shingeki no kyojin smut #aot x reader #snk x reader #x reader #reader insert #.fics #.aot #.zeke #.eren #.grisha

[moveslikebucky]

Oh no it’s time for me to post my season 2 thoughts that nobody asked for!

Under the cut because obviously spoilers. Not a very long post tho I’m not going into extreme detail here.

OK SO first off let me preface, as someone who mainly writes book omens content, I think it will be shocking when I say I genuinely loved everything about this season.

It took me a couple of days to digest and figure out my thoughts aside from that absolute GUT WRENCHING ending Jesus Christ but here’s the thing a lot of others have said too but in my goofy way of saying it.

This is 1980. We all just watched Han Solo get frozen in carbonite, watched Luke get his hand chopped off and find out the man he’s sworn to destroy to save the galaxy is his father, watched everyone be at their absolute lowest and then the credits roll and the familiar and beloved theme song plays and we’re sitting in the theater going ??????????

And we don’t get Return of the Jedi til 1983.

And we’ll all be fine and so will they, the triumph happens in the end, wouldn’t be a good story otherwise.

I have many nebulous thoughts but the main thing is I have been seeing a lot of people saying that our boys are completely OOC or somewhat OOC for the entire season or at least for that last 15 minutes or so.

And here is where I say something shocking again!

I don’t think they are at all, whether you’re looking at TV characterizations OR the original book ones.

Hear me out don’t get your pitchforks on me just yet.

In the novel, their character arcs are completed because it was always meant to be a fully stand alone novel. At the end of the book there is a full acceptance between the two of them and they actually talk to each other in a meaningful way but CRUCIALLY, a thing that was missing from the tv season, I think is where specifically they diverge.

In the book, when Aziraphale possesses the televangelist, and goes off the rails completely - that is showing in unequivocal terms that Aziraphale is rejecting Heavens dogma. He’s on the same page as Crowley now, and they stay on the same page through the end of the novel.

Neil knew, because it was what Terry wanted, that he was going to have to do the sequel they never did. The sequel that didn’t exist when they wrote the first novel.

Speaking as a writer, even knowing that Patton Oswalt was originally on board to play the televangelist, I feel like leaving that scene out was a very specific way to set up for what we have now.

Aziraphale ends season 1 ambiguously. If you had read the book you can take it as “hell yea they’re on the same page now!” And it’s a perfectly valid reading.

But…

You don’t have to. It’s not implicit. They’re still not really talking about things, just around them. Aziraphale is still shocked when Crowley thinks everyone will come after Earth, still has panic in his eyes until Crowley distracts him. Crucially, Crowley does not tell him what happened in heaven. He only listens to Aziraphale dither on about towels and rubber ducks.

Aziraphale had not broken fully free from his cult.

They’re leaving him alone but his bookshop is still and embassy. He’s still with them, in some small way.

I don’t think the metatron brainwashed him with a miracle (or that he’s been kicking about in reality). He didn’t need to do that when simple manipulation is all that it takes.

Show up and make the people who are mean to him look stupid, compliment Crowley and Muriel who he likes, extract him from his support system, make it seem urgent make it seem just this side of too good to be true of an offer.

The metatron has heard first hand just how much Aziraphale wants to change things, how he wants to do what’s right instead of what is Right™️.

He gives Aziraphale everything he thinks he wants right on a silver platter, including a way to protect Crowley.

Aziraphale accepting that offer is completely in character because, crucially, he is not at the same place in his character arc as he was in the book.

But the thing is, Crowley isn’t either.

Crowley is withholding EXTREMELY vital information from Aziraphale still for his “protection”.

Information that would’ve bolstered Aziraphale to not take that offer, really. Because these boys don’t talk.

I don’t have as much to say about Crowley here, his arc is also not at the same place as in the end of the book, but I see more people mad about Aziraphale’s so that’s what I wanted to address.

Anyway I loved it, and if u have read this far, thank you! Plz don’t leave a bunch of negativity in the replies here, feel free to disagree, but this is a thing I consume for fun and I don’t want to discourse about it I’m just posting my opinion.

#text #good omens s2 spoilers #maybe if I don’t tag the main tag this will stay small hmm

[video-killer]

I think Vox would work well if he was a evangelical TV preacher in life. Like the kind of guy who had 3 private jets, pretended to heal people, and pocketed millions from his poorer followers. This would make his character click better with his personality. It would have also made him more compelling as an antaganist, as he would relate better to Charlie (while also having his rivalry with Alastor). Like a man who is bitter from going to hell because he dedicated his life to christianity vs a hell born demon trying to redeem actual sinners (because in Vox's eyes hes not really a sinner). I just think it would make for a more interesting dynamic.

Definitely a solid idea! Being a televangelist neatly ties his charisma, egocentrism, manipulativeness, and television theming together while also adding the extra layers of being a sort of foil to Charlie's ideas of redemption and having a superiority complex over the other sinners. While I myself have always leaned a bit more towards the route of "jazz crooner with organized crime connections", your concept actually does a much better job of connecting together the given character information.

#asks #voxpost

[zapsoda]

maybe you could try and draw what you think the spamton wally talk show host televangelist guy woukd look like

I have some vague ideas-

doll/puppet/ robot made to look like a doll/puppet with cream colored skin (hex code #FFFDD0) since that’s what you get when you add white and yellow together

human- dark skin since the non canon human wally partycoffin drew for fun has dark skin, somewhere in his 30s since I hc that spamton is equivalent to a guy in his 50s and I’ve heard wally I suppsoed to be in his twenties and I figure he’s in his twenties anyways

in general mix of wallys televanist look/ a 50s tv show host look and some sort of greasy con man look like you’d expect from a spamton humanization

hi idk if youre still interested din this idea but i drew him :-)

#asks #my art

[cerayanay]

The reveal of the televangelist being Maxine’s father in X (2022) was 2 seconds that added a whole fucking layer to the movie. The entire time the tv preachings seem to be a contrast to the actual story, but then you find the connection! In one small moment that doesn’t even involve any interaction with our cast, the movie strips away the notion that religion and purity mattered at all.

MAXiNE AND HER FATHER ARE THE SAME EXACT PERSON! They are both people that crave attention, fame, and adoration! They both completely block out everything but that! They both use sin to achieve what they want! While I (and the movie it seems) don’t see anything evil or inherently wrong with sex work, they do discuss the reason they’re movie is going to do so well is bc people find they’re sin taboo and wrong! And the father obviously is using sin as well, but in the opposite way by scaring everyone. Literally never has their been a stadium filling televangelist that actually cared about god and actually being a good moral person, the movie doesn’t waste time on that because the audience KNOWS that going in. Why waste time with “oh btw here’s Maxine talking about her dad and here’s us developing why she’s like this and he’s actually also bad”? With ONE reveal that weaves with some beautifully stylistic moments (ie when the preaching parrallels the action) we get Maxine’s entire back story, complete with why she’s there and why she is the way she it. Both father and daughter have the message of “I can help you navigate the world of sin and achieve happiness.” And fuck man it works!

Maxine is truly her father’s daughter. Like in the movie his preachings haunt the house and her. Just that one reveal at the end of the movie turns the role of the preachings from “this is a representation of god and morality explaining why they are being punished” or just cool “oooh they do sin and this guys talks about sin being bad woooah” into something completely removed from morality and religion. That one scene honestly erases any religious or moral messages. Even pearl and Howard’s fake ass screamings of decency and purity are obviously just weak attempts to insult the protagonists that no one takes seriously, and Maxine doesn’t even acknowledges them. She’s only effected by the comments of “you’ll end up like me/never be famous.” Then she doesn’t HESITATE to result to murder. Yeah it’s warranted bc Pearl fucking killed her friends, but GOD was it so refreshing to see a protaganist not struggle with her morality!

UGH this movie teases us with a message of morality and religion just to say “sike bitch! It’s about self obbsession and fame!” Pearl, the preacher and Maxine are the same fucking character! And the movie goes even FURTHER to make you feel completely different about each one! Maxine is likable, kind to others, and fun. The audience likes Maxine, espcially the audience that is drawn to see a horror slasher porno. Pearl is disturbing but pitiful. And the preacher is just a fucking dickhead. Three characters with the same motivation and internal being with three completely different outward beings.

Just. Amazing.

#x 2022 movie

[404-art-found]

Called "the neighbor," "the telambulant," "that TV thing," "the televangelist," among other things, this being roams the area surrounding its neighborhood. Most of the time, it is strangely passive for a thing overtaken by the meat-and-metal anomaly that struck humanity, standing stationary for hours at a time and not minding even close proximity with regular humans, buzzing incoherent radio static. If irritated, however, it flies into a violent rage.

The girl is greatly unsettled by it, although grateful it's friendly unless provoked. The fox had isolated himself from humanity for over a hundred years; normal televisions are already a wonder to him, so this amalgam of technology and man freaks him out far more than he'd willingly let on.

(Excerpts are, from left to right: I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream, To Kill a Mockingbird, and The Yellow Wallpaper)

#thoughts #my art #cw blood #oc: the neighbor #nameless story

[furballfaggot]

hi and welcome to Giovanni's Bookshelf (formerly just the concept of a book club aptly named Champ's Book Club). because i do not learn my lesson about my more fleeting ideas. todays book, in the looser sense where the book is just a creepypasta, is

Has anyone heard of a pill called Ichor? - A.K. Kullerden

"EXCEL THINE SENSES"

a man named Dale becomes intrigued by a televangelist with strange mannerisms, orders mysterious pills, and he and his roommate Al end up in a deep rabbithole he's not sure if they can get out of. heres what i thought of it. spoilers under the cut!

BEST WAY TO EXPERIENCE THIS BOOK CLUB: entirely blind to the overarching plot. read the pasta yourself and then come back here. this book club is pretty disjointed and i do not apologize. the pasta is also written really well and uniquely so i highly recommend. feel free to discuss the story in the notes! its a bit of a long read especially compared to most creepypastas but its absolutely worth it. and it doesnt even have any unnecessary slurs in it! (unlike SOME pastas *glares at glitchy red*)

READ ON?: at the very least creepypasta.com, not sure about anything else. i read it on my ipod touch. yknow how it is! tws for forced drugging, vomit, mind control, bugs under skin, and death. [🔗]

WELL WRITTEN?: yes

EASY READ?: depends on attention span -- takes at least an hour according to creepypasta.com

RECOMMEND?: absolutely. its wonderfully crafted and it had me hooked the whole time

a pill called ichor is told first-person through journal entries, transcribed conversations, and audio logs. right off the bat the descriptions of the strange mannerisms of the preacher on tv had me just as intrigued as dale. what was up with the scratching? what was the new box? why did he freeze like that? so many questions already. the way the whole bee and honey things unraveled were absolutely stellar. the imagery is so strong that i could vividly picture most parts of it each time they came up. the entirety of siphos is so wonderfully foreshadowed throughout and all ties up neatly in the end. carrie is admittedly kind of a nothing character but tbh i dont mind all too much? it helps with the worldbuilding and works as a nice foil to als feigned ignorance. the bit with the mention of the vacuum packing trash in als room is also brilliant -- i didnt think too much of it as i started my post-read skim to write this, but it clicked when i remembered that the ichor that kicked the whole thing into motion were also vacuum-packed. i love how even when al was on the fast track to Literally Dying in one of the most gruesome ways possible because of something so nightmarish dale still wanted to save his friend. and he did! wonderful. truly wonderful. the descriptions of the worms/siphos under the duos skin were also horrendous, but like in a good way. in an effective way. thinking on it now the mentions of the ancient hole-punched corpses could either have been that byron guy just Completely losing it or maybe like. the siphos breaking through the other explorers??? idk. my brain works sometimes. the realization where dale figured out the weird yellow shit in the ichor capsules was honey was also super well crafted, it felt so natural. and also shoutout to how dale surfs wikipedia and then infodumps about peru it was both a really effective and simple way to get exposition across and also very funny to me on like an inherent level. hes like "hey i might end up dying but uhhh heres some shit about mountains" and honestly thats awesome. autism slay. i know this sounds entirely incoherent but i am just Like This about things. AND THE PART WHERE AL FORCES A PILL DOWN DALES THROAT IN HIS SLEEP that kind of shit usually doesnt really do anything to me but ill be damned if it didnt here the stakes raising like that are insane. the words in the back of the brain are also super effective and i love the comment on how theyre like a waltz. fuckign awesome. the "first get outta my journal" bit was a much-needed bit of humor in the midst of the suspense and terror. beautiful all around. etc etc im tired suorry. very good. i cant put the whole plot in here bc the way its told makes my brain refuse to put it any other format bc i like the original too much and also im hoping anyone whos still reading might decide to pick it up and somehow immediately forget everything ive said here so they can still go in somewhat blind. bonus points for the plot starting a day before my birthday bc im biased like that. tee hee

#the pond #giovannis bookshelf #probably also gonna draw some fanart for this one. this shits GOOD

[vulnerasti-cor-meum]

I recently watched this 1985 interview (24 minutes) between Tammy Fay Bakker, a famous televangelist, and Steve Pieters - a gay man, minister, and AIDS patient, about what it was like to be a gay man in the midst of the epidemic. And what struck me the most of this interview was how marvelously serene, good-humored, and measured the man is. Which sounds like one of those back-handed compliments, I know. But to think about how much vitriol and abuse that gay men and AIDS patients went through the time - not to mention fear (people were still scared that handshakes and hugs could spread HIV! Visitors had to suit up in gowns and gloves to visit patients!) - and to think that he was presenting himself as a member or representative of LGBT persons to the TV-watching gaze of multitudes of evangelicals who would also have been hearing that homosexuals were being punished by heaven by the disease - and I cannot imagine the enormous pressure Mr. Pieters must have been through in this interview, and how immaculately he handles it. I could only wish to bear myself so well.

Anyway, good interview and fragment of the not-so-distant past

#maybe I'm focusing the wrong thing #idk #just been reading/learning more about the 80s/AIDS #I literally choke up when talking to my mom about serious stuff lol #Youtube #pride month #lgbt #AIDS #HIV AIDS #Gay men

[claudethecrabdemoness]

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP someone else shares my hc and made a video!!??? ASKSKDHAHAJSA VOICE OF GOD-

#I’m in awe #and a lil jealous #god why is it so hard to animate? #believe me if I could I would #this is perfection tho #and 100000% how I pictured it #someone else commented he’s Joel Osteen too and I ascended #these are my ppl #go follow them rn #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #vox hazbin hotel #vox the televangelist #vox the cult leader #it’s a good day to love the tv man #u guys have no idea what’s coming #I’ve been up all night writing hc notes #a fic is brewing #Instagram

[kurt-wagner-official]

Post #31: Marvel Graphic Novel issue 5

I know I've said a lot of times "This is one of the best X-Men stories!" but this time I've reached the single best one of all time. If you read one issue of Marvel Comics in your life, it should be Marvel Graphic Novel Issue 5, God Loves, Man Kills. This is the thesis statement on what the X-Men mean and stand for. Aside from one bafflingly tone-deaf moment on Claremont's part, this is as close as I can imagine to a perfect comic book. The artist is the great Brent Anderson, who never had a full run on the book but did a few guest spots, most importantly this one. It opens with two mutant children being hunted through a playground by a group called the Purifiers. They are caught, murdered, and strung up on the swing set with a sign labeling them "mutie," left as a message to the children who come in the morning to play. We've seen mutant persecution in the series before, but never this grounded and brutal. This isn't a superhero battle, it's people with guns killing children on a playground. Soon after they leave, Magneto catches up and swears to avenge them and prevent any more death. We then cut to New York, to the headquarters of Reverend William Stryker, a televangelist and the head of the Purifiers. He's writing a sermon about God's orders to stone transgressors and watching a briefing on the X-Men, his next targets. In Salem Center, at Stevie's dance studio, Kitty is in a fistfight with a boy who supports Stryker and calls her a mutie-lover. Peter and Stevie pull them apart, and Stevie tells her to calm down. Now for the infamous moment: Kitty equates "mutie" with the n-word and storms off. I'm not gonna gloss over this cause it's a very historically significant part of the issue, but there is absolutely no defense for this being in the book. The worst mistake X-Men writers make is having their characters compare their persecution with human racism. Maybe in-universe it's comparable, but that doesn't matter because mutants aren't real and racism is. These books are being read by people who have experienced actual persecution, and while seeing characters go through allegorically similar persecution can be cathartic, they should not be preached to about how bad fictional issues are compared to real ones. Also, putting that aside- just because someone calls you a slur does not mean you can tell a different slur at somebody else. I feel like I shouldn't have to explain this, and I don't understand why neither Claremont nor anyone working on the book thought this scene might need a rewrite. Claremont normally does a good job with the intersection of mutants and other minorities by focusing on the sympathy and community between groups, but this moment is painfully tone-deaf and clearly written by a straight white man. Anyway, that's out of the way, and I want to get back to the story. Xavier is having a televised debate with Stryker on mutant rights. Xavier is calm and reasonable, but Stryker is a charismatic fear monger, which plays on TV much better. He argued that as homo superior, mutants are not humans, an idea that, as Logan points out, is the first step to taking away their right to live. While the X-Men work off the anger in the Danger Room, Xavier, along with Ororo and Scott, who went with him, are attacked and captured by Purifiers. They cause a car crash and plant fake bodies, but Logan can tell the scents are wrong. He, Kurt, and Peter are investigating when they're attacked by Purifiers in battle suits, but the battle is quickly ended when Magneto arrives and proposes an alliance with his old enemies. Back at the mansion, Kitty and Illyana discover they're being watched, but are kidnapped by Purifiers are brought back to their home base. Magneto tortures their new prisoners and finds out their plans just as the readers do over the next few pages. Stryker has Xavier hooked up to a hallucination machine where he believes he's been crucified and tortured by his students. The goal is the turn him against mutants and into the arms of Stryker. Stryker remembers thirty years ago, when his wife gave birth to a mutant and he killed them both. He tried to kill himself too, but he survived his attempt and turned to alcohol. A few years later, when Xavier began championing mutant rights, he found his new purpose- saving humanity from the anti-Christ that he saw in Xavier and in all mutants. Eventually, Stryker manages to break Xavier, and uses his power to kill Scott and Ororo. Meanwhile, Kitty phases out of the car that she and Illyana are being transported in. She inhaled a little knockout gas, and she stumbles across the city, barely able to phase, until she finds a police officer. When the Purifiers show up, they shoot him, but before they can finish the job Magneto and the X-Men arrive and save her. Magneto removes the bullet and flies the cop to the hospital. Kitty kidnaps Stryker's head scientist by phasing him, which she's never done to another person, and Kurt intimidates him with his demonic appearance until he talks. They find Stryker's location, and free Illyana, who was being examined for her unique reading that we're neither mutant nor human, and Scott and Ororo's bodies. Logan discovers that Xavier subconsciously put the two in stasis rather than kill them. Magneto revives them with electricity, and tells them he's never wanted to be their enemy. He wants to create a utopia for all, with himself in charge as benevolent dictator. Scott says it's a short term goal that'll end when he dies, and Magneto says he wants Scott and the X-Men as his successors. It's a new part of Magneto's plan that we haven't yet heard, and it has great implications for his dynamic with Scott and the whole team. Meanwhile, Stryker goes on TV for his biggest sermon yet, and he plans to activate his twisted Cerebro at the same time to make it seem like he's summoning God's wrath on mutants. The X-Men have the mental defenses to resist for a time, but they're trapped. They need to stop Stryker, but if they attack him publicly they'll make his crusade even stronger. Magneto appears in the stadium, demanding Stryker stop and debate with him, and he responds by focusing the psy-bolt on him. Magneto is greatly weakened and threatens to be overwhelmed by the mob that Striker demands blood from, but he's saved by two human cops working security. The X-Men try to go for Xavier, but this close to the machine, they're dying at the feet of Purifiers. In the stadium, one of the Senators in attendance starts to bleed, unaware he's a mutant, and so does Stryker's second in command, Anne. She begs him to save her, and he throws her off the stage, breaking her neck. Scott plays his last card; he shoots a ricocheting blast while Kurt teleports Logan to Xavier. Xavier can't deal with both threats at the same time, so he mindblasts Logan, leaving him open to Scott's blast, which knocks him out. Scott walks out on the stage and before the whole world starts talking to Stryker. He demands to know why Stryker has the right to decide the will of God, and argues that maybe mutants are the real humans. Stryker points at Kurt and screams "You dare call that thing human?" Kitty interjects, saying Kurt is the kindest person she's ever met, and the person she aspires to be. Stryker responds by raising a gun at her. The X-Men stand unresponsive, but before he can shoot, the cop shoots him. Later, Magneto arrives at the mansion and asks the X-Men to join him. For the first time, Xavier agrees, saying that if this is the only way to prevent mutant deaths, he'll take it. Scott interjects once again, saying that he's not ready to give up on the dream. He convinces Xavier not to give up either. Magneto hopes they succeed but believes they won't, so he leaves. Ororo tells Scott that today he was Xavier's teacher, but Scott says he was just helping a person he loves. Ororo says she wishes love were enough to fix the world's problems. It's not, but today it helped.

Usually human villains are motivated by fear of extinction, or by revenge. Stryker is one of the rare ones who believes he's doing the morally good thing by exterminating mutants. The story is called God Loves, Man Kills, but God was nowhere to be found in this story. Instead, it was about human interpretation of God, with Stryker believing he was God's servant and the cop at the end saying this couldn't be God's will. Although there are some fight scenes, the story is really about the danger of words and the power of emotions. Stryker built his empire on sermons which spoke to people's deepest fears. He almost won not through physical power but through manipulation, both of his listeners and of Xavier. The ending was probably the biggest victory yet for Xavier's dream, when Scott used words to convince a human cop to defend them against Stryker. Going back to Xavier's manipulation, I think it's very interesting that the imagery Stryker used in the hallucinations was of Xavier being crucified by his students. Although obviously neither of them are evil like Stryker, Xavier and Magneto both share his ambition and goal to be the savior of the world. That arrogance brings the downfall of all three. Stryker is so high on his own charisma that he doesn't see the possibility of another human disagreeing with him. Xavier's belief in his own virtue give Stryker the opportunity to use that against him, making him believe that the X-Men are the enemy and he the martyred savior. Magneto flies majestically over Stryker's mob, declaring himself Stryker's great enemy, which prompts the entire stadium to turn against him. The three heroes are Scott, Kitty, and the unnamed cop. Scott's entire arc up to this point has been learning how to bend instead of breaking. He was once rigidly loyal to Xavier, only able to see one point of view. But his new teammates helped him open his eyes. He still believes in the dream of a peaceful and better world, like Xavier does, but he's also taken parts of Magneto's philosophy. Xavier couldn't see other points of view, so Stryker was able to move his vision, and when Xavier saw what happened, he broke and gave up on his dream. But since Scott can bend, that couldn't happen to him. Xavier believed in complete pacifism, and he was manipulated into killing everyone. Magneto is quick to kill, so he can never find public support. Scott is in the middle; he believes in peace, but he's willing to sacrifice for it- in this case, he was willing to kill Xavier to stop him. Xavier would only debate Stryker on a peaceful TV set under the guise of a human geneticist, which garnered the respect of viewers, but didn't appeal to their emotions the way Stryker's sermons did. Magneto addressed the world from above their heads, demanding their attention, which certainly appealed to their emotions. But he could never get their respect. Scott talked to the world as a mutant in costume, but he also did it on their level, on the ground with no violence. Xavier wants peace between mutants and humans, but he still sees that distinction. Scott argues that labels are arbitrary, and even though mutants are different, they're no more so than any two humans. He rejects Ororo labeling him as a teacher, and it's this humility that will eventually shape him into the true leader of mutantkind that both Xavier and Magneto wish they were. Our second hero is Kitty, who represents the best possible future of the world. When she joined the X-Men she was scared of Kurt, but now she defends him as her role model and is willing to sacrifice herself for their friendship. It's a testament to how far she's come as a person; like Scott, her arc has been opening up her perspective. She went from having a normal human perspective to becoming an amalgam of all of the older X-Men's points of view, making her the real synthesis of mutant and human culture. The pinnacle of that is her acceptance of Kurt. Kurt doesn't get much to do in this story, but he's a very important symbol of the dream. He looks like a monstrous other, but if you give him a chance he's the kindest person in the world. The dream will have succeeded if the world is a place where Kurt can walk down the street. Stryker is the opposite; he calls himself a saint, but on the inside he's a monster. This brings us to the final hero, the unnamed cop who shoots Stryker. Stryker has declared himself God's chosen champion and Xavier and Magneto as the anti-Christ. If the X-Men tried to stop him, it would just feed into that message. But when it's an anonymous bystander who shoots the shot to end the conflict, Stryker isn't a martyr, he's brought down to the level of the people. That doesn't end the conflict, because his followers are still out there spreading his messages. But it does show that the X-Men aren't the only thing standing in the way of the Stryker Crusade. There's also normal, everyday people defending them. If there's one central theme of this story, I think it's that if there is a God, He doesn't act through figureheads, whether they're good or evil. He acts through the humbler acts of love and compassion that we saw in the three heroes of the ending.

#wes reads xmen

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

My Top 10 Favorite Daddy Sex Scandals

#10: Earl Paulk - Founder of Chapel Hill Harvester in Decatur, Georgia, Paulk had sex with a number of female members of his congregation and was even accused of child molestation. He also had a sexual relationship with his sister-in-law and they had a child together. I don't approve of what he did, but sleeping with all those women of his congregation, fucking his brother's wife, getting her pregnant and his brother raise him as his own. That's straight pimpin. But the child molestation thing coming out completely soured him for me.  

#9: Larry Craig - A U.S. Senator for 18 years, Craig was arrested on June 11, 2007, and charged with lewd conduct in a men's restroom at the Minneapolis–Saint Paul International Airport. The following months brought a long, sordid, and confusing sequence of angry denials, Craig's guilty plea to a misdemeanor charge of disorderly conduct, press conferences and more denials, a promise to resign, an attempt to withdraw the guilty plea, a statement that he would not resign after all and a long series of men reporting that Craig had either solicited them for sex or had actually engaged in sex acts with them. I thought he was hot at the time and would probably do him today.

#8: Franklin D. Roosevelt - Roosevelt had multiple extra-marital affairs beginning in 1914, and continued until he died in 1945. Roosevelt had polio and was stuck in a chair, but still got ass until he died.

#7: Jimmy Swaggart - After Swaggart attacked televangelist Jim Bakker on past issues, Bakker retaliated by hiring a private investigator to find dirt on Swaggart. The evangelist was caught having an affair with a prostitute. He was forced to step down from the pulpit in 1986.  He was caught three years later with another prostitute. I just remember seeing balling like a baby on tv and laughing my ass off. Looking at him now, I would love to fool around with him.

#6: Warren G. Harding - Harding reportedly had affairs with Carrie Phillips (his wife's best friend) and Nan Britton (She lost her virginity to him when she was twenty and Harding was fifty) who bare a child during the 1910s and early 1920s, prior to his death in 1923. He wrote tawdry letters to all his lovers filled with euphemism and sexual innuendoes (“Jerry” was the code word for his penis.) And he had so many female admirers (nicknamed his lollapaloozas) that his security guards worked overtime, keeping them at bay.

#5: Frank Gifford - In 1997, The Globe tabloid set up the then a 66-year-old veteran football star and ABC Monday Night Football commentator in a two-day tryst with a married 46-year-old TWA flight attendant, Suzen Johnson. I found it hot because all he did was make out, had a blow job and fuck her anally. Which means he prefer hitting the starfish and his wife, Kathy Lee didn't give it up. And it put a new light on the gay rumors in his past and the fact he's at least BI.  

#4: Lyndon B. Johnson - Johnson had extramarital affairs with multiple women over the years with one allegedly led to pregnancy with a son out of that relationship. This isn’t surprisingly considering that LBJ was known for exposing his genitals (nicknamed Jumbo), whirls it around whenever he’s in the john, shouting “Woo-eee, have you ever seen anything as big as this”, and bragging that he’d had sex with more women than John F. Kennedy—whose exploits were well-known in D.C. One of the reasons why he's my favor president.

#3: Joe Barton - In November 2017, nude selfie pictures of Barton surfaced online from a video of him masturbating, and sent it along with sexually explicit messages to a women with whom he was having consensual sexual relationships. The photo of Barton, who had pointed his camera upward from below his genitals, next to a text message reading, "I want you soo bad. Right now. Deep and hard." Reading this and not knowing who he sent it to had me believing he sent it to a man. Wishful thinking on my part.

#2 “Waitress Sandwich” at La Brasserie - In 1985, Senators, Edward M. Kennedy and Christopher J. Dodd reportedly took their dates to a fancy Washington, D.C., restaurant, La Brasserie. Plenty of alcohol had been consumed. Plenty of alcohol had been consumed. When the meal was coming to an end, their dates went to the ladies' room. A waitress was summoned to the private dining room where Kennedy allegedly picked up the waitress and threw her on the table, knocking plates and other items to the floor. He reportedly lifted her up again and put her on top of Dodd, who was seated in a chair. Kennedy then engaged in an attack that continued until another employee entered the room. That was the kind of shit senators were doing back then.

#1: Jerry Falwell Jr. - The sex scandal rocked his marriage and ended his stewardship of the evangelical education empire founded by his father, Jerry Falwell Sr.. The guy banging his wife claimed that Jerry enjoyed watching him have sex with her and even claimed that they formed a 'throuple' - a polyamorous couple who invite a third person to join their relationship. Jerry, denied that, but you can guess he was at least being cucked. At most joining in. All this is hot to me because of his father. First, because I wanted to fuck him. Second, because he's turning in his grave.

#Jerry Falwell Jr. #Steve Kroft #Joe Barton #Lyndon B. Johnson #Frank Gifford #Lyndon Johnson #Warren G. Harding #Warren Harding #Jimmy Swaggart #Franklin D. Roosevelt #Larry Craig #Earl Paulk #top ten list #top 10 list

[wigwurq]

WIG REVIEW: THE EYES OF TAMMY FAYE

Happy new year from another biopic of the damned!! Sure this came out a few months ago but it only *just* became available to stream on HBO this week. If you care at all about the life of gay icon and makeup loving televangelist, Tammy Faye Bakker-Messner, please just watch the 2000 documentary of the same name NARRATED BY RUPAUL. However, if you like thirsty wigs, Oscar thirst traps, and general thirst generated by drinking way too much diet coke, this movie is for you! Let’s discuss. 

We begin at the end - or at least close to the end? Tammy Faye herself joined the 700 Club in the sky in 2007 but we begin this biopic in 1994 where a heavily made up/old aged/bewigged Jessica Chastain (as Tammy Faye) tells her makeup girl (AND US) that she can’t take any more makeup off because IT IS TATTOOED ONTO HER FACE. This is for sure a parable for this film itself because there are only so many layers of makeup you can take off to reveal the true Tammy Faye UNLESS YOU ARE A PERFECT DOCUMENTARY.

We are then transported back to 60s Minnesota where a young, brunette Tammy Faye is attending bible college and is immediately smitten with a young Jim Bakker. First off: obviously, Jessica Chastain and Andrew Garfield are far more attractive than their real life counterparts but this movie really tries to make them kinda sorta look like them? This brunette wig is FINE and definitely a remnant of first season THE CROWN but like whatever? Meanwhile, Tammy decides to marry Jim AFTER HE TELLS HER A HORRIFIC STORY ABOUT ALMOST MURDERING A CHILD IN ORDER TO NOT HAVE PREMARITAL SEX. IS THIS STORY TRUE?!?! (It is maybe true). Also they get married in order to have sex. Religion, man! 

Tammy spends most of the movie attempting to win approval from her mother, as played by the ever ornery Cherry Jones. Most of her wigs are just like little old lady wigs which you could probably buy from The Paula Young wig catalog (and you probably should!) Also Cherry Jones should have an Oscar! Just saying!

Anyway, a now married Bakker couple sets out to spread religion through songs and handmade puppets and end up as local tv hosts. Tammy inexplicably becomes platinum blonde and this wig is - again I guess fine? Tammy’s obsession with her appearance, specifically always wearing makeup and having her hair perfectly coiffed is absolutely never explained. Also! As is always the case with male wigs - this 70s cut on Jim is pretty terrible all around!

Also terrible all around? MEN, ALWAYS! Tammy is forced out of her tv job for the audacity of having a child and then is not allowed to sit at a table full of assholes at Jerry Falwell’s house so she can eat a hot dog. Tammy is a low-key feminist and LGBTQIA supporter from the start but probably isn’t even aware of that herself? Tammy’s wide eyed cluelessness is very endearing and at times definitely baffling. 

Also baffling? MAN WIGS ALWAYS. Andrew Garfield’s parade of man wigs in this movie is NOT GREAT. The texture is just plain awful but as man wigs go, they don’t really jut out at the back of the neck like most do, so I guess they’re not the worst?

They say the higher the hair, the closer to god, and I guess the wigmaster on this took that to heart? As Tammy and Jim’s celebrity grows...so does their hair! These wigs are honestly not awful! I cannot say the same for the old age makeup but I’m not here to judge that.

Truly, no one on the planet is having as much fun as Jessica Chastain in this movie and like: good for her?!

Also Vincent D’Onofrio plays Jerry Falwell which is legit LOL but truly when I look at both of these dude wigs I am SHOCKED to find them to be ok?? 

Meanwhile, Tammy is NOT OK despite outward appearances of turquoise calm. Her strawberry perm has gotten out of control and she almost sorta has an affair right before giving birth (OMG IS THIS TRUE?!?!)

Her post-partum depression comes with a bent blonde wig and an opioid addiction. I have to give it up to this wig for being so purposefully bent.

BUT WHY IS HER MAKEUP SO PRISTINE?!?! Consistency, people! If your hair is a mess, your eye makeup should be too! AND WE’RE TALKING ABOUT TAMMY FAYE!

Anyway, as Tammy’s fame and addiction spiral out of control, we are treated to a delicious disco bop that I seriously cannot get out of my head. Truly: Jessica Chastain, I’m glad that you were having a blast making this!

As we hit the scandal years, the old age makeup takes a turn for the completely ridiculous but the wigs remain consistently fine. They do their best to look like these bonkers weirdos!

I really do appreciate all the different shades of tawny that these wigs are giving us. Tammy was a spectrum of blondes, y’all. 

And look at these feathered bangs!! I FEEL THIS LATE 80S VIBE IN MY SOUL. Anyway, we all know the story - Tammy and Jim lost everything (and rightly so) but again - the wig arc remains very detailed!

As we come back to the beginning, we see older/redhead Tammy once again...and TAMMY DOES A WIG REVEAL! I screamed!!! The fact that this shitty red wig is revealed to be a wig within the context of the film WAS EVERYTHING. I am often wig gaslighted by wigs we know to be wigs within the narrative of films which are the same quality as wigs being passed off as real hair. 

I LOVE THAT THERE ARE TWO DIFFERENT WIG CONSISTENCIES HERE FOR REAL HAIR AND WIGS! THIS NEVER HAPPENS! THIS WIG IS PURPOSELY SHITTY AND I LOVE IT!!!!! Therefore, as many male wig ghostmares as their might have been via Andrew Garfield, I have to give this movie a passing grade for showing us the light and grace of differing wigs as wigs! (HOWEVER PLEASE JUST WATCH THE DOCUMENTARY INSTEAD)

VERDICT: WURQS

#eyesoftammyfaye #TammyFakeBakker #TammyFakeBakkerMessner #JessicaChastian #AndrewGarfield #WIGCONSISTENCY #OLDAGENIGHTMARES #CHERRYJONES

[ramen540k]

LGBT Visibility in Media

Sai Hudspeth

s5126293

Media Production

Throughout film’s history, documentaries have served to educate and provide visibility for marginalised communities. One of those communities being the LGBT community. In this essay I will be exploring how two documentaries, “Disclosure” (2020) and “Pray Away” (2021), provide information that supports LGBT activism. In visual media specifically, there has been a history of vilifying the LGBT community. This caused major detriments to these marginalised groups because of the image portrayed in mainstream media and in American culture. “Disclosure” and “Pray Away” utilise two main methods of providing an impactful message, those being the use of clear evidence and personal experiences.

While the status quo has viewed the LGBT community as immoral and dangerous, to change it we must understand why. “Disclosure” does an amazing job of this through providing evidence for why this has become the status quo. Throughout the film, “Disclosure” (Disclosure, 2020) references famous and revered pieces of cinema that start and uphold troupes of trans people. At 17 minutes into the film, Nick Adams, GLAAD Director of Trans Media and Representation is introduced and opens with a quote that perfectly represents the film industry’s relationship with trans people. “For decades, Hollywood has taught audiences how to react to trans people...” This quote, followed by examples such as a scene from “Beyond the Valley of Dolls” (1970) in which a trans man murders another character, a scene from “Terror Train” (1980), and “Psycho” (1960), provides both evidence and a visual connection to his words. He ends the quote with “...and sometimes, they’re being taught that the way to react to us is fear. That we’re dangerous, that we’re psychopaths, that we’re serial killers, that we must be deviants or perverts.” This use of visual evidence tied in with Adams’ rhetoric provides an understanding of why transphobia is such a prevalent issue, especially when it is revealed that a GLAAD study shows 80% of Americans do not know any trans people (Disclosure, 2020). In a BBC interview, Genna Terranova, Director of Programming at the Tribeca Film Festival, said “In the age of social media that’s where the conversation starts and that’s when hopefully change will start...” (Brook, 2014).

“Pray Away” however, focuses on a singular storyline following the inception and dismantling of an organisation called Exodus. By using testimonials from the executives of Exodus, news reels, and photos, and footage from events, “Pray Away” provides a historically accurate timeline of events with a driving emotional force. At 20 minutes and 50 seconds, (Pray Away, 2021) Julie Rodgers begins her testimony. She describes the reality of growing up in a conservative christian household and what messages she heard during her time at home. To preface her experience, the film shows TV reels of the christian conservative activists. These activists include Dr. James Dobson and Jerry Falwell, a televangelist who capitalised on the idea that “Homosexuality is moral perversion and is always wrong, period.” (Pray Away, 2021) Later, it backs up these reels by showing old Exodus ads with testimonials of “ex-gays” saying there is hope, there is a way to get rid of your immoral thoughts and actions (Pray Away, 2021). The use of visual evidence solidifies Julie’s testimony while also providing more context for the current narrative. The use of visual aids in these two films both provide more information and an immediate emotional reaction.

In both “Disclosure” (2020) and “Pray Away” (2021), professionals and prevalent members of the LGBT community are featured to provide both meaningful evidence and emotional connections between the viewers and them. Bianca Leigh at 15 minutes 37 seconds (Disclosure, 2020), talks about her experiences as a young trans woman pre-transition. One of her anecdotes is about the film “Dress to Kill” (1980) in which she identifies with the heroine because of her elegance, and femininity while the villain of the film is portrayed as a man who dresses up as a woman in order to kill the heroine. The juxtaposition of these two characters, one she identified with and the other who is supposed to be a trans person left her speechless and confused, representing perfectly the feelings of a trans person in comparison to how they are portrayed in mainstream media. This allows the audience to experience the thought process and empathy of being a trans person with little to no representation. In Vanity Fair’s interview with Sam Feder, the director of “Disclosure”, they discussed how “Disclosure” had become a pivotal point for people who have never viewed film through the trans perspective. “When I hear people say that it’s affected how they’re seeing things, that’s really exciting because this is a new way of seeing. It’s talking about a way of seeing and its use of the trans perspective as a case study, but it can be applied to every identity.” (Nast, 2021) Later in the film (Disclosure, 2020), Leverne Cox shares her personal experiences of the beginning of her transition. “I was so viciously harassed on the streets of New York early in my transition… I knew I would immediately feel unsafe just walking down the street…” This, further showing the personal connection between the participant’s life experience and an empathetic situation any audience can empathise with.

“Pray Away” however, utilises personal experiences in a different way. The executives of Exodus met with a small group of “survivors” of Exodus and listened to their testimonies. At 1:21:42  (Pray Away, 2021), each executive gives their initial emotional reaction to what the survivors had to say and how it changed their ideas of what Exodus was doing to people. Later, Julie Rodgers provides her experience with coming out of Exodus and back into christianity, reflecting on how detrimental Exodus had been and how she realised that it did not represent her religion as a whole. As the film closes out, each contributor to the film reconciles how much harm they have caused through creating the largest, longest lasting provider of conversion therapy. Rather than show the negative impacts it has had on them, “Pray Away” humanises their mistakes by providing them the opportunity to empathise with the members of their community who they have hurt. It is a moving ending to a horrific story and provides food for thought from those who have not experienced it personally.

Though “Disclosure” (2020) and “Pray Away” (2021) utilised different storytelling methods, both were incredibly informative and moving. By providing visual evidence of the experiences in each film, people are captivated by the sense of reality it provides. Had there been no visual representation of villainous trans characters, or no evidence of the indoctrination caused by Exodus, the films would have been much less impactful. In addition, providing in depth personal experiences and the reconciliation of Exodus’ actions allowed the audience to feel each film on a higher personal level. These two techniques combined made each film easy to consume and easy to understand, especially for those who are not familiar with each topic to begin with. With these topics specifically it is difficult to provide enough base information to ensure people can watch, understand, and not lose interest. “Disclosure” provided more opportunities for engagement by providing constant historical context, while “Pray Away” utilised the individuals’ story lines to break up the story shifting between the present and past.

Sources:

Brook, T., 2014. Activist documentaries: Preaching to the converted?. [online] Available at: <https://www.bbc.com/culture/article/20140423-preaching-to-the-converted> [Accessed 8 July 2021].

Disclosure. 2020. [film] Directed by S. Feder. Netflix.

Pray Away. 2021. [film] Directed by K. Stolakis. Netflix.

Nast, C., 2021. Disclosure: The Oscar-Hopeful Documentary That Changed Hollywood. [online] Available at: <https://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/2021/02/disclosure-trans-representation-hollywood> [Accessed 18 July 2021].

#queer #lgbt #trans #film #photography #cinema #disclosure