#fandom be normal about girls challenge

[noirineverysense]

dandadan obviously has lots of good fanart but i keep seeing ayase shown as this sexually aggressive dominant and i sort of hate it. just feels shes treated like that just because she has a personality

[nekropsii]

ALPHA TROLLS RANKED BY HOW WRONG THE FANDOM AT LARGE IS ABOUT THEM:

This is a personal challenge, based entirely on my own experience and perspective, and also ranked from Most to Least Correct. I was bored, and thought this might be fun.

Putting this under a cut, because it's long as hell.

MEULIN LEIJON

People get her mostly correct, from what I’ve seen… Most of the time, fan content of Meulin is absolutely recognizable as Meulin, but her pride in her deafness + joy of learning new ways to interact with the world through/due to her disability is always removed, and I do not often see people tackle the Toxic Positivity aspect of her character. That seems less like character assassination, though, and more like a combination of people not actually playing through the Openbounds, people not being able to fathom disabled people (especially those who gained a disability later in life rather than being born disabled) being happy, and general fandom distaste for the idea of touching anything uncomfortable, especially when that uncomfortable topic is highly mundane, normalized, and potentially applicable to them or their loved ones. Meulin’s toxic positivity was, of course, commentary on Tumblr’s ecosystem at the time, so… It was much harder to touch back then.

ARANEA SERKET

People tend to get her general, broad strokes personality right, but unfortunately she gets treated pretty roughly for the crime of Being A Serket. People refuse to understand her motivations, and she often gets demonized for what she was doing around/during [S] Game Over, even though that was something she’d gotten pushed to and also was cool as fuck to watch. God forbid a woman do anything.

DAMARA MEGIDO

People are right about the racism, 100%. It is completely despicable, hard to look at, and extremely blatant. She does, however, have character outside of that. No, it isn’t “whore”, it’s more like “angry, dysfunctional abuse victim”, and she’s genuinely a very interesting and tragic character. But, again, people are right about the racism, so she gets to be placed way up here.

MEENAH PEIXES

She is such a chaotic little bastard. I love her. I really do. Please understand that she genuinely does not understand the concept of consequences. This girl didn’t have a Lusus, she didn’t have parents, it was functionally illegal to tell her “No, you can’t do that.” That would fuck up literally anyone’s moral compass. That’s not me hand waving away all the fucked up and bad shit she’s done, we all know what she did, but people tend to forget this aspect of her character and it pains me deeply, because it is a very genuinely interesting concept that I want to see more of. She’s capable of regret, we’ve seen her feel it, I just don’t think foresight is her forte. No one raised her to consider consequences, or help her experience them in a healthy way, because nobody raised her period.

Also, her ass is not butch, she is the girliest girl in the entire comic. She is about hot pink and glitter and kiss marks and unicorns and cute little puns and you will respect that. She is not masculine. Her ass is not masculine nor is she butch. Let her be her hyper-feminine self.

LATULA PYROPE

Please for the love of god there is more to her character than “Gamer Girl” and “Mituna’s Girlfriend”. You are falling for her fucking ruse. Please. Please. Please recognize that her entire character is about internalized misogyny, and being forced to overcompensate for misogyny in gaming circles as a gamer who happens to be a woman. Please. I’m begging.

KURLOZ MAKARA

His character is not that deep, it’s mostly just a string of events he is mysteriously, inexplicably involved with. The Makaras are extremely Function Over Form- their characters practically do not exist, they're mostly just plot devices that exist to push the story along. I'm sorry to Makara fans. You just invented a guy in your mind and decided he was real. He is also not that soft, though, and his relationships with both Meulin AND Mituna are not healthy. Hard to stop people from ascribing cutesy squishy lovey dynamics to random men who happened to have looked at each other once, though. Some people truly haven't graduated from 2012.

HORUSS ZAHHAK

I am begging people to consider that maybe the biggest issue here is not that he is “Bad Otherkin/Therian Representation” and is in fact maybe the fact that Hussie was actually making fun of Systems when he was writing Horuss. Because Horuss is canonically a system. He uses the word system. He uses the word switching. He uses the word host. He literally talks about his Plurality at length in extremely upfront, plain terms. I don’t know how him being “Bad Otherkin Representation” was and still is the main discourse about him. It makes me insane. That is a commentary that truly writes itself. Talk about having your priorities out of wack, honestly...

PORRIM MARYAM

No, she is not a MRA, she’s just a regular feminist who happens to live on a different planet with different politics and social hierarchies from Our Real World Earth’s USA. Whatever argument you’re about to pull out of your ass to say that she sucks is bad. She already explained what she meant by that, in more detail, very clearly, and she was right. Half the time she’s literally just giving you factual information about what Beforus was like, and literal plot synopses. She isn’t saying anything insane. She’s literally normal. I don’t know why people cannot handle or process this. Porrim has not ever said anything controversial. If you disagree with this you’re either misconstruing her on purpose or you fell for Kankri’s bait, and that’s just fucking sad at that point.

Also, she’s more than a sex object, and her tits are not huge. Honestly, half the shit she was saying was just “I am more than my sex life”, and so many people took that and made her main character trait her sex life. Just pathetic.

RUFIOH NITRAM

This man is a fucking war criminal and I will stop at nothing until he is behind bars for his crimes against Damara. Raging misogynist. Total fucking cunt. Just the worst. If I talk any more about this, this part will be 1,000 paragraphs long. But also, I’m begging people to recognize his relationship with disability, too. He was similar to Meulin in the sense that he didn’t mind his disability, and his biggest gripe with it was the way that Horuss tried to “fix” it… Which is an interesting way to expand upon how Beforus’s culling system is not only very explicitly ableist, but mimicking real world systemic ableism. I also want people to recognize that Hussie is actively having a conversation about the reclamation of slurs with Rufioh’s character, and how not letting people reclaim such language is doing nothing but giving the word power against them while stripping away their own personal agency. Rufioh’s a complicated guy, and he’s interesting and also the worst, and I am really tired of how he gets watered down to nothing but “Pretty Boy Victim Of His Inexplicably Psycho Ex”.

MITUNA CAPTOR

Holy Fucking Shit, You Guys Are Ableist.

KANKRI VANTAS

To this day I see people saying he was just Hussie making fun of SJWs. To this day. To this day people think Hussie was trying to make Every Tumblr Leftist look bad, and that he hates them Because They Are Leftists. When will people recognize him as a bootlicker to the oppressive class and the violently bigoted. When will people recognize that. When will people recognize that this is more of a commentary on the legitimate real flaws of Tumblr’s politics at the time. When. When.

When will people stop portraying him as a lovey-dovey Catholic Whore. I’m going to stab my fucking eyes out and then kill everyone in this building. Me when it's based and cool to ship an aroace character with a sexual predator. I GUESS.

CRONUS AMPORA

I say this with every ounce of sincerity I can possibly muster as a person: What the literal actual fuck.

[danadiadea]

Basically my whole deal with the pretty/ugly/normal Snape discourse is the fact that people behave like Harry is flattering Snape for some reason, build fanon assumptions on that belief, and then behave like those are book canon and the only correct interpretation forever and ever amen.

if Harry calls Snape's nose hooked and prominent – it probably doesn't mean it takes up 70% of his face (people behaving like "hooked" and "huge" are the same word make me kinda tired), if Harry says Snape's greasy hair hangs in curtains around his face – it probably doesn't clump in icicles, if Harry calls his teeth uneven and yellowish – they probably aren't extra crooked and rotten and of a bright yellow colour, if Harry points out his skin is sallow and pallid and white – it probably isn't of greenish shade and with acne, if Harry tells us Snape is thin and haggard – it probably doesn't mean he looks 25kg underweight. Believe it or not, but Harry doesn't actively try to embellish the man he hates! He rarely uses any extreme language to describe Snape – and that's what bugs me when people insist he must have extremely unusual features, because even a pretty lookist boy who hates the guts of him and is ready to misinterpret him at any given chance, is actually being relatively mild. If Harry could debase Snape more – he would!

Harry calls Pancy ugly too, but Rita, for example, thinks she's pretty and vivasious, and I know it's assumed Rita is exaggerating because she and Pancy are both awful people, but Rita wouldn't publically call a girl that objectively had a face very unfitting to beauty standards pretty, especially when it's so uncalled for! Pancy must've looked at least somewhat cute so that it doesn't sound like a mockery.

Severus probably "wasn't pretty" to Harry's taste – just like Eileen, whom he greatly resembled, but he also didn't look extremely out of the ordinary and wasn't repulsive to look at, just tired, a bit unkempt and with intense traits (which can be handled in a whole lot of different ways of course). Enough so that people who hate him can make some derogatory comments on him, but honestly, go to any visual based social media and look at people who receive derogatory comments on their appearance out there and tell me that all of them (if any) are unbearably ugly and barely human looking.

So basically erasing Snape's traits and giving him a straight nose or full lips or rosy skin is misinterpretation just as much as exaggerating every feature of his to the extent that never was even remotely mentioned in canon (and especially since we know we have a negatively biased perspective almost at every instance) is. And it's fine, especially if we talk about art, when artist's style would naturally enhance certain aspects and try to deliver different messages. Some prefer to draw more standardized faces or softer appearances, while others tend to give their characters strong, stylized features and make them visually challenging – and this is all great and good and valuable. It's also fully okay to headcanon different traits for the character, both recognised as attractive or unattractive, depending on how each person wants to interact with the fandom. My problem is exclusively with people misinterpreting the book text, claiming it as canon and saying what people can or can't do with characters based on those misinterpretations.

[coraniaid]

Okay, look:

The reason people often read Faith as being openly and unashamedly attracted to women (or at least more so than Buffy) isn't because they somehow missed the fact that Faith is full of ill-disguised self-hatred. (Of course she is, that's fundamental to her character.) It's not because they missed the fact Faith flirts with random men all the time but doesn't do the same thing with women. It's not because they missed the fact Faith never actually refers to herself as a lesbian or as bisexual and never mentions any previous girlfriends when she's describing her dating history to Buffy. It's not because they missed that she never openly asks Buffy out.

Given the era in which Buffy was made -- given that Eliza Dushku was being given explicit instructions by at least some of the writers to dial down any lesbian subtext as late as her appearances in Season 1 of Angel -- all that is kind of a given. (I think some people in today's fandom really underestimate just how much of a huge deal Willow coming out in Season 4 was. This was not something that happened on popular genre TV programs. By modern standards the show is painfully coy about it, but that is not how contemporary audiences saw it!)

It's not because they feel asleep during Who Are You? and never saw how Faith interacts with Tara, either. (Which, sure, you can interpret as Faith projecting her own internalized homophobia onto Tara if you like. But which you can also explain pretty easily when you remember that Faith really doesn't like Willow -- she's just been reminded in an earlier scene how much Willow doesn't like her, which she responded to by immediately fantasizing about stabbing her -- and that she's doing this because she doesn't want Willow to be happy.)

No, the reason for thinking that Faith is open and unashamed of her sexuality in a way Buffy isn't is that this is the obvious conclusion you reach once you start to take the queer-coding of being a Slayer seriously.

If Slaying is a metaphor for queerness -- which moments like Joyce reacting to Buffy coming out as Slayer in Season 2's Becoming ("it's because you didn't have a strong father figure, isn't it?") or later talking about "marching in the Slayer Pride parade" in Season 3 or, as early as Season 1's Never Kill A Boy On The First Date and as late as series finale Chosen, Slaying being given as a reason Buffy can't have a "normal" relationship (i.e. one with a boy) or ever make "the guy thing" work all suggest it is -- then what does that imply about Buffy and Faith's respective attitudes to Slaying?

Well, Buffy spends years hiding the fact she's a Slayer from her mother, only ever shares this part of herself with a handful of trusted friends, openly wishes at times that she could give up being the Slayer, tells herself that being a Slayer makes her "a freak", insists against all evidence that she doesn't really enjoy Slaying. And Faith tells people she's only just met how much she loves Slaying ("Buffy never talks that way!" Joyce notes when Faith comes around for dinner), doesn't try to live the double-life Buffy has pursued (where she's both a Slayer and a "normal girl"), and repeatedly challenges Buffy to admit that Slaying is "fun" and something she wants to do for its own sake ("tell me you don't get off on this?" she asks in Bad Girls).

I mean, am I wedded to this being the best or only interpretation of the character? No, not at all. As I said, Faith's self-loathing is a huge part of her characterisation, and -- even if it's not something that originally stems from her (assumed) attraction to women -- it makes sense it would bleed through into it. You can tie that back into the metaphorical reading too, pretty easily. Faith isn't as happy and confident about being a Slayer as she pretends to be. She isn't having as much fun as she'd like Buffy to think she is. She is, in fact, jealous of Buffy's "normal" life.

But I think, if you're going to be critical of this reading of the character, you have to seriously engage with why it's popular. People don't just assume Faith is unashamed of being attracted to women because they just decided she should be and they're ignoring all the explicit clues to the contrary. Rather, they're approaching the show in the context of US network television in the late 1990s -- when explicit confirmation of a character being anything other than straight was almost unthinkable -- and taking their cues from the metaphorical reading instead.

And from that lens, "Faith is proud to be a 'Slayer' [if you know what I mean] and enjoys spending the night 'Slaying' with other 'Slayers'" really is the natural conclusion to come to.

[narcjsistx]

𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄! | itoshi rin x fem reader

part thirteen: symbiosis || BAND AU, A BIT AGED UP

plot: after your band's last concert, a few days after Rin's, an online competition arises about who is the best bassist. A whole new challenge is created by the new fandom who loves you, but people don't know that you and the bassist of Blue Lock haven't spoken in about 3 years since you broke up, when you were sixteen

02: PAST, YESTERDAY

characters presentation here ; all the parts here

The lesson had just ended, Sae had already finished hers a few minutes ago, but by now it had become a habit for her to wait for you: weeks had passed since you went to her house for the first time, and from that moment on every afternoon you spent the your time playing in his garage. But there was one peculiarity, one that made you a little uneasy

Across the room, putting his bass back, was Rin Itoshi. At the end, he had seriously started taking classes, and so you had found your friend's younger brother in the same class as you; you hated to admit it, but he was good for starting so recently. Maybe it was an Itoshi family trait knowing how to play instruments without too much effort, another beyond the eyelashes

You never spoke during lessons, but you observed each other a lot: every time you looked up you found his big teal eyes staring at you, and every now and then you stared at him without realizing it. Every time one pecked the other, he would look away, only to look back again a few seconds later. You didn't know why you did it, but it had become practically normal by now. You found him interesting, and maybe he found you interesting

You pick up your bass, walking out of the room, Rin a few steps away from you; When you reach the hallway, you notice Sae. He's usually always in great shape, but today he seems a little tired

"Are you okay?" you ask approaching him, and Rin joins your duo "Nii Chan was sick before he even came to his class" he says, and Sae glares at his brother "It's not true, I just have a bit of a headache. Let's go" he says as he heads towards the exit of the music school. You look at him a little perplexed, and you notice how Rin is too; you look at each other for a few seconds, then you both shrug and follow Sae. Surely Rin knows more, but you think his brother has a fever

On the way to the Itoshi house, no one dares to speak: from time to time Sae sneezes, and you and Rin look at each other more and more perplexed by the reddish's pedantic behavior. Usually you and Sae always chat on the commute, but since Rin joined your duo the conversations have become rarer and rarer. Maybe Sae is ashamed to show his brother that he talks to a girl, you don't know this, but by now it has become almost normal to remain silent

Once you get to the garage you place your bass in the usual place, but you notice Sae climbing the steps that lead to the first floor "Wait for me here, Y/n. I'll take some medicine and we can start... in the meantime you try something with Rin, he hasn't yet never tried with anyone" Sae says, but before you can reply he has already closed the door. A strange silence envelops the garage, while you turn towards Rin embarrassed: again, you find him already looking at you, but this time he didn't hide it. You don't know why he does it, but you can't help but be a little embarrassed by his behavior. Plus, he's not one to talk much, so that makes the situation even weirder

"Um... can we try what we did with our teacher today? That song with the low notes" you say, picking up your bass, trying to limit eye contact. You plug your bass into the speaker, and only then do you hear Rin nod as he settles down too. Timidly, you start by giving the first notes of the song, tapping your foot to give yourself the time, but unexpectedly Rin starts playing, significantly anticipating the notes with which he technically should have started. You look up in surprise, continuing to play as you observe how focused he is, completely engrossed in the song. You smile almost spontaneously, and you don't even know how to explain the reason for your sudden joy

Perhaps, you have found the second person with whom you get excited when you play. Rin's concentration, his precision, his perfect timing... they are like gold to you, rare gold that you want to protect and possess. You increase your concentration, spinning around as you play, and Rin seems to start moving too, while a genuine smile breaks out on his face. It's all so unexpected but perfect that the song almost fades into the background, while this time it's you staring at him without shame, waiting for him to notice you

And when he looks up, the bass still clutched in his hands, you feel as if the notes he plays hit your heart in a lethal way, but this too is the effect of the music. Your gaze intertwines with his, and you almost don't notice how the song ended, as if your hands had played it automatically while you were concentrated on something else

"You're really great, Rin!" you say, approaching him almost without noticing, your hands unexpectedly grabbing his "Play with me!"

“Rin, Y/n, Sae can’t… oh” says a female voice from the door, Mrs. Itoshi’s. Both you and Rin turn around awkwardly with your hands still intertwined, but quickly break away when you hear the lady, who however smiles at you tenderly "Were you two playing? You're good" she asks giggling, and you look down in embarrassment “It was us, mom. How's Nii Chan?” Rin asks, but you notice a bit of embarrassment in his tone of voice "I came to tell you... he has a fever. He can't play this afternoon, I'm sorry Y/n" the lady says, but you look up shaking your hands "It's not a problem, Mrs. Itoshi! I can go home, I'm sorry Sae has a fever" you say already putting your bass back in the case, but a hand grabs your wrist, stopping you. You look up, Rin's slightly unsure teal eyes looking at you "Stay. We can... we can try another song" he says awkwardly

You swallow a lump of saliva, more awkward than him "Oh, okay" you say, your voice shaking, but his hand still hasn't left his wrist. It's as if, for him, interrupting contact wasn't possible... actually, it's the first time your skin has touched. And you can't ignore the little shivers down your spine, the same ones you felt while playing with him in a completely symbiotic way. You want to stay here with him, for him, to also feel the thrills of emotion and once again the excitement

TAGLIST: @x3nafix ; @kittenish0 ; @littlejapanesesightseeingtrip ; @pan-kojiwa ; @pookalicious-hq ; @kaz-0e ; @sof888a ; @chugging-bleach ; @matchablossomsss ; @lovelymeguru ; @thebestsetter ; @yamsverse ; @princesssae ; @yuukigyatgyat ; @azharyy ; @rwbie ; @bubybubsters ; @swagkittybear ; @syarc0re ; @rink1sser ; @frogsrules ; @hwaassaa ; @chuuyalvover ; @poemzcheng ; @poisonedst4r

[jarvesque]

There has been a lot of discourse surrounding the rat grinders and it's (mostly) been really cool and interesting

But while I love their complexity, and I think that it is important to remember that they are teenager who may have died in a very traumatic way before coming back, I also think that some people in the fandom are a bit too forgiving torwards them

There's a point where "They're teens,don't be so hard on them" doesn't cut it anymore.

They spent 2 years killing small animals in the woods before going to their spring break Adventure

(which sure,is kinda normal for Aguefort. But they kept doing it even when they were higher level instead of going on actual adventures because it was easy)

Kipperlily complained about fairness and how the Bad Kids had an unfair advantage but then her and her party only ever picked easy adventures that would not challenge them or teach them anything

And also,while it can be understandable to want to feel unique and I agree that Kipperlily's anger issues are a sign of deeper problems;

we can all agree that a fairly wealthy girl with living parents being envious of a lower class boy whose mother can barely pay for food because she is jealous that his dad died horribly when he was little IS absolutely fucked up right?

Like, it's such a deeply entitled attitude; and it doesn't make her a monster, but her not being a monster doesn't make her an innocent little angel who never did anything wrong; a middle ground exists

[utilitycaster]

I am curious if you think the campaign wrap up will perhaps address some of the campaign shortcomings or challenges the cast faced in trying to land this campaign narratively, especially in comparison to previous campaigns? Not that they would disparage the whole campaign - but like a little “yeah this didn’t work as well as we wanted at times?” 

It’s odd because I find myself weirdly optimistic about CR as a whole despite this campaign’s possible lackluster ending, so I guess I’m hoping the campaign wrap up acknowledges that this campaign didn’t always play to their strengths in hopes that their next long form venture does more, idk.

I don't know if it will but. that's precisely the tenor any question I send will have: I don't think the fundamental concept is the issue - hell, I don't even think killing the gods is actually a problem if you appropriately set up a scenario where killing the gods has a motivation other than "mortals were mean to me in their name" [thing that happens irl all the time in a world with zero proof of divinity, in my religiously observant ideologically agnostic and skeptical opinion] or "I have issues with my parents I never worked towards so I've projected this onto The Ultimate Parents instead of like. being fucking normal." But it needed a lot more scaffolding at the VERY least in the prep for this campaign, and actually, to be blunt, if you want to make this a balanced issue you needed to seed this concept through prior campaigns in a meaningful way. There's a reason pretty much everyone who defends this campaign as Extremely Good, Actually is either doing some form of wildly revisionist history of the fandom and the past campaigns that's demonstrably false if you were like. there; or else they started with C3 and decided they were an expert despite being of below-average literacy and deeply below average personality and have to resort to such miserable efforts as "arguing that canon isn't real" and "posting an out of context Le Guin quote over and over in the hopes we won't notice they're actually 511 mice in a trenchcoat who can't actually read". So yeah I hope Matt is like this was an ambitious project and I'd have done many things differently.

I do wonder what's next for CR, because as I mentioned, it feels like the cast is stronger in shorter form; that even the other longform shows are moving to shorter form right now; and that WBN and C3 kind of show the limits/failings of longform. I hope they do another longform campaign at some point in the future, but it might make sense to take an extended break and play in the space for a while. They only took about 4 months between campaigns for the past two and maybe it would be good to take longer and focus on Daggerheart, Candela, and EXU for much of the year and if they do longform wait 8-10 months, especially with the comparatively extensive touring schedule this year.

I also hasten to add, and I mentioned this briefly in talking about CRPGs, but I think there's a Third Campaign Dip that's not inevitable (NADDPod didn't really have it; TAZ switches systems enough that it's not an issue) but definitely hit here, that doesn't apply to a fourth one. Like, for CRPGs (girl who's played Veilguard twice and gotten through the first day of Disco Elysium voice) it feels like the first run is following what seems most fun to you and then the second is playing around with other choices that maybe aren't as appealing just to see what happens, and then for the third and future runs you kind of know the full lay of the land and what you'll like while still allowing for a range of choices. For class-based TTRPGs, the first is the self-insert/thing that's fairly comfortable and easy/character you've dreamed of; the second is what you do now that you know how this works; and then the third can be...an overextension, shall we say. I think after that you figure out, again, the bounds of your comfort zone, how much you can stretch it, and what you don't like, you're in a much more consistent footing.

[ilikekidsshows]

Mari stans always say that she's good and important representation for people with anxiety, but as an anxious person myself, I wholeheartedly disagree.

Good anxiety rep would have the main character do work on their own to improve the wazs they're handling their anxiety. Marinette never does. Anxiety is an endless excuse for everything awful Marinette does to people, and the show's "free of consequences" card so no one but villains get to do anyway but pandering to any little feeling she has.

Marinette isn't working on her anxiety in any way that's deeper than surface level - which quickly gets walked back on anyway next time something isn't going her way. Marinette is completely reliant on everyone around her to hyper manage her emotions and never-endingly escalating needs. Marinette doesn't learn from her mistakes or improves her behaviour, the situation at hand is getting solved by everyone needing to cater to her emotions and sooth her into calming down again. That's neither emotional resilience nor working on your anxiety. Everyone else is doing the work to MANAGE YOU, which you for some reason take credit for because you're so spoiled and pampered at this point that you think you stopping from freaking out after literally being SOOTHED is "you putting in hard work".

But as we already see over and over again in the show, the second everyone else isn't doing the work anymore, Marinette falls apart and can't handle any of her emotions.

But yeah, sure, Marinette's such PHENOMENAL anxiety representation. I'm soooooooo glad that the show uses her to teach the lesson that having anxiety is the absolute worst condition in human history and everything else is below it in validity, and that you should never have to actually work on your anxiety. Everybody else has to work on MANAGING YOU.

---

Marinette is great representation of how to get away with being an awful crisis friend. Just do whatever you feel like doing, make everything about you and, the instant something doesn’t go your way, start crying until someone fixes it. And if someone gets upset at you, go on a whole tangent about how you’re the worst person ever and don’t deserve friends and they’ll instantly drop it because now they feel like they’re the bad guy for upsetting you.

It’s okay, Marinette! Here’s a lollipop and sticker to make you feel better about ruining a disabled girl’s sponsorship!

I will also keep saying this: hearing supposed defenders of this character look at the way she’s an exhausting nightmare to everyone around her and go: “must be a mental disability!” makes me want to hurl. Selfish characters just have anxiety! Irresponsible characters just have ADHD! Egotistical characters just have an inferiority complex! A character thinking about a past event one time means they’re traumatized! Completely normal but exhausting human behaviors get pathologized in fandom spaces to an annoying degree. It's like they think the only other possibility is that the character is pure evil, so it has to be whatever mental health challenge they can throw at it.

[tryingtofindava]

pls im begging for dating ticci toby headcanons 🙏🙏

──𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ‘𝐓𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐢’ 𝐓𝐨𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

THIS HAS BEEN UPDATED!!

: ̗̀➛ Back to source

My god.

This boy is full of so much love.

Y’all take FOREVER to actually get together.

It got to the point where Toby got frustrated and was all like “should I just kill them?” (Assuming you ain’t a proxy)

What I’m tryna say is he’s sorta oblivious to his feelings towards you.

But he’s so scared to get attached to you, cuz every time he’s ever gotten close to someone they die.

But when y’all (finally) get together after a long ahh slow burn.

YOU TWO ARE LITERALLY THE CUTEST OMD.

He was so surprised that you said yes when he asked you out. Like- you? The pretty girl who he had the the pleasure of becoming friends with???? Says yes to him????

He’s so happy

Buttttttttttttttt.

So awkward it’s almost painful.

One time you kissed him on his cheek, bro was all like ‘🧍’

But when you guys get past that awkward stage? You guys are practically attached to the hip.

And I know most of the fandom hates the ‘soft Toby’ stereotype, but I feel like that’s just how he is w you (though he does have his moments…)

Lots of reassurance. It’s needed if y’all wanna last.

He isn’t used to have someone be so affectionate towards him. Since deadass the only person who’s showed him genuine love was Lyra.

When y’all first met, he’d always wear a massive ass bandage over the gash on his cheek.

Every time you saw it you gave him the ‘🤨’ look, which he’s just shrug it off. And when you’d ask him about it, he’d say something like:

“It’s ruh-rude to ask t-that.”

He’d even continue wearing it INTO your dating life, he’ll eventually cave in since it’s been around 8 months of him wearing it around you. And a wound would normally be healed by now. He wasn’t at all surprised by your reaction of shock. He’ll always have it on out of the apartment though. No exceptions.

His pet names are always the sweetest.

He calls you ‘pretty thing’ soooo much it became a tic.

Speaking of pet names I feel like he’d also give you lots of nicknames in German. (Since he has German relatives and learned to speak it at a young age :P)

Stuff like Maus, Hase, Schatz, Liebling, Blume, hübsches Mädchen, meine Liebe. And those are just his favourites, there is many more.

Eskimo kisses? Eskimo kisses. He thrives off them, or maybe he just thrives off positive attention…. Definitely the latter.

He try’s his best to keep the whole murder part of his life away from you. But it’s obvious so… that was one long night of going over things.

Anywaysssss.

AQUARIUM DATES! Y’all get in your grandpa jumpers and walk around the aquarium holding hands and looking at all the cool fish n’ shit.

HE LOVES LOVES LOVES NECK KISSES.

He’s a slut for knowing he’s yours.

He loves teasing the shit outta you for being short. Even though he’s like 3 inches taller…

“I’ve been b-breaking my buh-back k-k-kissing you, babe.”

“Piss off.”

He loves laying between your legs with his face flushed against your chest while you run your fingers through his hair and itch his scalp.

When you guys are sleeping, you’ll constantly have to make sure he doesn’t get too over headed or cold due to his CIPA.

Speaking of sleeping, he grinds his teeth while he’s dreaming. So just gently grab his chin to stop him. And he’s a deep ass sleeper so he won’t feel it lol.

He isn’t a big fan of PDA when you guys aren’t behind closed doors, but he’ll ALWAYS hold your hand.

On the less sappy note, when he’s having a tic attack he will not allow you to come near him. He’s so scared of hurting you.

And when he’s having an episode?

Make sure you stay calm. And maybe get to him before he gets to you. He’ll be so upset if he did hurt you while going through one of his schizophrenic like states.

To help him through his manic episode, stay as calm as you can, let him know that, although you don’t share the belief that it’s real, you understand that it is real to him. Try and keep focused on supporting him with how he’s feeling in that moment, rather than confirming or challenging his reality.

If he does snap at you, he’ll feel so guilty. He will think that he’s just like his dad.

He’ll probably disappear for a few days, but when he comes back he’s begging for you to not leave him. Like he’s full on sobbing.

Hold him.

He’s clingy. Like super clingy. Clingy to the point where it just becomes obnoxious. And gets a bit irritating but he means well :(

He loves you like a dog, and he’ll do anything for you. He trusts you with his whole being and hopes you feel the same.

✯.★*°•.°✯•.★*°°·.•°★•✯.★*°•.°✯•.★*°°·.•°★•

[rebelliousstories]

Old Habits

Relationship: Austin Butler x Reader

Fandom: Austin Butler RPF

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Insecurites

Word Count: 1,386

Main Masterlist: Here

Austin butler Masterlist: Here

Summary: Preparing for his new film, Austin starts to freak out once his voice starts slipping.

Waking up in the morning, with birds chirping and the sun shining, Austin was happy to wake up and see her face. There was very little that brought him joy quite like waking up to that image. Sunlight beaming down and her eyelashes tickling her cheeks. She looked so peaceful just lying there, in one of Austin’s shirts. Her breath fanned out across his bare chest, and he unfortunately had to get up to start his day.

With great difficulty, he set his girl back down on her pillow and went to get ready. Austin’s shower was heating up while he brushed his teeth. Smaller arms wrapped around his torso while he was rinsing his mouth, and he chuckled. Spitting the last bit of water out, he shut off the faucet and turned to face his lover.

“Good morning, baby. You awake?” He questioned, letting her fall into his chest again with a sleepy yawn. Austin chuckled, and set to rubbing her back for a brief second.

“Want to shower with me?” She nodded, and let her boyfriend take the shirt off before he moved to his own clothing. They stepped underneath the stream together, and took turns washing and rinsing. No words were spoken, but there was no need for them to. Austin stayed underneath to wash his hair while she stepped out to go get ready. Afterwards, he stepped out after turning the shower off, and slung the towel across his hips.

Austin was busy applying product to his hair as he heard rustling in the next room over. They switched places for her to do her hair and makeup while he got into his clothing. His eyes drifted over to the bathroom periodically to watch her. She was just finishing up when Austin slipped on his shoes. Reaching into his bedside drawer, his gold chain, and ring was placed on, followed shortly by his watch. His lover came over and placed a kiss to his forehead so as to not disturb his hair.

“Gotta go to a table read today, baby. I’ll be home by dinner. Think about where you want to go. I’m treating us tonight.” He said with certainty, kissing his girl and gathering the rest of his things.

“Okay, hun. I’ve just got to get some stories run by the office and then I should be home by four at the latest. I love you.” She pressed another kiss to his lips, and giggled as she rubbed the lipstick off. Grabbing a bag, her wallet and keys, she rushed out the door with a final farewell out of the door. Austin smiled, and turned his attention to gathering his own things, but paused when he saw the photo of them on his nightstand.

It was from the premiere of Elvis a few years ago where they had announced their relationship for the world. She had worked as a story developer for the movie industry, and it just so happened that she was working on Elvis this time around. Her presence was usually on set in some form or another, meaning that Austin spent a lot of time around her. A three year long process had cultivated in a phenomenal performance, and an incredible relationship.

He had offered to make her his plus one to the premiere, and she had shown up in a gorgeous 50’s style evening dress that matched his suit to a tee. Ever since then, they had been so happy. There were highs and lows, just like every relationship, but they always came out stronger together. The script he was reading for was a new movie about a biker gang from the 60’s; The Bikeriders. It was always a fun challenge doing a period piece for him, but he was certain that this was going to be a great film to make. At least, that is what he hoped for.

The rest of the day passed without a hitch for her. It was a normal work day. She was biding her time until she could officially clock out and get home to get ready for her date with her lover. As soon as the clock hit four, she packed up her desk, clocked out, and practically ran out of the door. The car ride home was filled with anticipation for the night ahead, but when she pulled in, confusion hit her hard. Austin’s car was already parked in the driveway. He was supposed to be home later than her, not before.

Making her way inside, she cautiously set down her bag and keys before searching the rooms. Nothing in the living room, nor the kitchen. However, pushing open the bedroom door, she was met with a pitiful sight. Austin was curled up on top of the covers in a fetal position. Softly kicking her shoes off, she made her way over to the bed and placed a hand on her lover.

“Aus, honey, what are you doing here?” She cooed softly. The man did not respond for a minute, but turned to lay in her lap without a word.

“Oh sweetheart, what’s going on? What happened?” Once more she tried to get a response out of him, but her words died when she saw the tears that stained his face. He grasped at her clothing and buried his face into her top as a tear fell out. She ran one hand up and down his back, and the other through his hair in an attempt to soothe him.

“Is it anything that I can help with? I gotta know, Austin.” Once he was able to calm himself, Austin turned out of her to face his girl. His head was still in her lap, but now he could gaze up at her.

“It’s nothin’ that you can help with.” His words choked up as he spoke, and fresh tears ran down his face.

“What happened?” She pressed again.

“I… I went to go do the script read. We were all sittin’ round the table and, my voice. It just- it slipped. And I can’t get it back, baby. Nothin’ is workin’.” He wailed, scrubbing his hands over his face. The longer he talked, the more she understood what had caused her boyfriend to become so upset.

“Elvis came back out, didn’t he?” Austin confirmed her theory with a nod, and more tears ran down his face. They were starting to stain her legs beneath, but neither one cared too much about that.

“Did you call your coach?”

“He ain’t available right now.”

“Honey, look at me,” her hands removed his from his face, “we’ll get through it. Just like we did last time. But hey, you stayed in that voice for three years. You’re going to have slip ups now and again. It’s natural. It’s just a minor set back. You’ll be okay.”

“And what if I can’t? What if I can’t get tried of it this time? I don’t know who I am when it slips in.” Austin lamented. While they did not fall, tears remained in his eyes as he thought about the alternative.

“Then we’ll get through it like last time. We’ll find a way to get around it. I’m not letting you be helpless during this, honey. Believe me, please.” She comforted her lover, who finally was able to crack a smile for the first time in hours.

“There’s my man. Such a pretty smile on such a pretty face.” The blush that came across his face made him turn to hide it, which caused her to giggle as she tried to turn him to see his face again.

“Now, do you still wanna go have dinner, or do you wanna stay in?” He rubbed his face again and laid down on his back once more. Austin chuckled out a breath, and sniffled lightly.

“Wanna go to that diner on fifth? I could use a burger and a milkshake.” Leaning down, she pressed a kiss to his lips and patted his chest upon her ascent.

“Let’s do it. Gotta change my clothes though.” Austin rolled off and watched as his lover picked out a new set of clothes, and disappeared into the bathroom. All he could think about in that moment, was how lucky he was to have a lover and partner like her.

[mikeellee]

IzuMei is my favorite pairing too. There's room for growth and for them both to be challenged in that relationship. In addition, unlike the rest of his "friends", Mei's never done anything bad to Izuku.

It provides Izuku with frequent upgrades and Mei's presence is always felt because he'd be using her equipment in battles. There's far more chemistry between the two of them, thanks to their shared interests and enthusiasm than the other Izu ships.

Hi @lacunammmm

Thanks for the ask and I always like to debate MHA and I'm very critical.

I had a script of my answer in my mind so I hope I didn't forget any detail.

Before I give my answer, let me preface how I do love Yuri. I love stories where girls fall in love, and yes I do love het ships equally (usually is the rare ones in a fandom) but anyway, my point here is I don't dislike togaocha bc is a supposedly Yuri ship, I detest the ship for others reasons.

I mentioned I like Yuri and one of my fav tropes is eldritch being with human. There is a manga with this idea. A outcast girl finds out the most popular girl is an eldritch abomination and....the story can go either they fall in love or the girl is the new dinner. It can go any route here. The point is therea build up.

Togaocha born out of nothing.

Togaocha is just, in my humble opinion, a way to mock Izu with NRT jokes without actually putting the work in canon. Like, no, we never saw Izu and Ochako on a date and later she having sex with BK or toga.

But like...think about it

Ochako has to hide her feelings for Izu for some damn reason (it's fine show feelings for others and hang out, not Izu)

Ochako declares she would be toga's blood bank.

What feels more romantic for you?

Who is the non important person for Ochako here?

I saw a post calling Ochako comphet and....that does make sense. Not saying is canon, I don't think hori cares for diversity that much but it does make sense.

Which feels a ghost of NRT hovering Izu's head.

To be clear, I don't think Ochako is obligated to love him romantically. Nor she own him anything...the problem is how she is supposed to be a friend for Izu, but she is so passive aggressive with him, only him.

If she looks at Izu muttering as if it's the horror. She should look at Mina doing smth in the same way, that way could be a flaw in her.

Nope, just Izu (fuck you, Izu)

My problem with Izuocha, aside the one I mentioned above, it's how...no one wants to acknowledge how sad this ship is. Izu is so touch starved that if Ochako says good morning and smile, he would be stoked. That is sad. If izu had a normal childhood aka without aldera or BK at least, Ochako's attitude towards him wouldn't be seen as romantic or cute.

Izu is so touch starved.

Izu exists soley to suffer. (In canon and the fandom too)

I'll go to IzuMei in a bit.

Another problem in the shipping for Izu is how people are "contaminated" with BK. For example, I cant ship canon Shoto with Izu. Bc shoto thinks BK is the best (you know, a boy that acts just like his abusive father and was rude with his sister. Yeah, bff material) so....how can I ship Izu with a person who thinks BK breaking his stuff is no biggie?

Tododeku could work in an au where shoto can hate bk. Hating BK with a passion that rivalry dabi.

Many ships of A1 are now "dirty" for me.

I mentioned IzuMomo but only in aus. Bc not only she wanted to put him in a straight jacket, not only she was following bk's order bc "he knows izu best" but no one ever bother to want to know him. NO ONE CARES FOR IZUKU, just if he is useful

(8 MOTHER FUCKER YEARS FOR THOSE BOZOS TO SAY HI TO IZU. I HEARD ALL THE EXCUSES AND EXPLANATION. "THEY WERE HELPING IZU GET A SUIT" MAKING SECRET FOR 8 MF YEARS??? NAH, BYE FAM)

Hori has a hate for his mc that frankly we need to study. He was abused in aldera bc ????he exist. There no textual evidence of QUIRKLESS discrimanation. Just izu being abused.

And it's insane bc why Hori made his own mc say he is a loser and nothing change in the end? Why he never let Izu win? Bc this is bakugou's show (I'm shocked he didn't make Ochako and BK be a thing, not gone lie. That would be on par with everything Hori has wrote so far)

Now on IzuMei

First off, I love their color, their pallets complement each other nicely. Mei's pink goes perfectly with Izu's green.

She is quirky like him. She mutters and has no problems in working to the bone to achieve her dreams.

He knows quirks, must be the only mf who is curious about the quirks and Mei, who has to make support for all quirks, could use someone who knows what he is saying.

Also she has never been mean or passive aggressive with him. Which is such low bar but Ochako still dissapoints.

Funny enough, Ochako calls Izu plain. She is the most plain girl I ever saw in my life. Izu has way more interesting design than her and Hori openly admits Izu is not a Ikemen, he is a joke of design.

So yes, I like IzuMei. It is way better than IzuOcha. Bc if the standers for fans to go "this girl didn't deserve this random Shonens boy who ignores her to fight X" then we can say "Izu really doesn't deserve Ochako. A girl who is so passive aggressive with him for no reason and ditches him to be toga's blood bank"

[her-satanic-wiles]

Dawn Chorus - V

Dracopia x Fallen Angel!Reader

When you question the Almighty for a third time, you find yourself on the run and escaping a horde of wrathful angels ready to punish you for your insolence. Whose garden should you fall into than Cardinal Copia’s? And he has more nefarious plans for you.

Masterlist ⛧ Commissioned by anonymous ⛧ Series Masterlist

Words: 7.2k.

Reading Time: 29 min.

Warnings: brief mentions of the past trauma the angel went through, including the harrassment and torture, but other than that this chapter is pretty chill.

Taglist: @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @dopey-fandom-girl @ravensbars @copiaspet622 @onlyhereforghost @ultrahalloweengirl @ad-astra-per-aspera-1976 @dolceterzo @whitepawfics

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this fic is quite dark, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my decision. Thank you.

The Sister’s voice echoed through the room, laced with anger and accusation as she confronted the Cardinal about his inexplicable actions. “Why would you drain her when you knew we were going to perform the second ritual the next day?” Her words dripped with venom, each syllable heavy with indignation and fury.

You listened intently, your confusion deepening with each passing moment. The revelation only served to deepen the mystery surrounding the Cardinal’s betrayal, leaving you grappling for answers in the midst of the chaos unfolding in the next room, both of them oblivious to your consciousness and your eavesdropping. Why would he sabotage their plans at such a critical juncture? What could possibly drive him to act against his own interests in such a shocking manner?

“The second ritual didn’t fall on the right day, and you know it,” the Cardinal retorted, his voice tinged with frustration and defiance. Despite his anger, he made a planned effort to rein in his emotions, attempting to maintain a semblance of composure in the face of the Sister’s accusations. “Turning her into a demon won’t solve our problems.”

His words hung in the air, a sobering reminder of the gravity of their situation. The Cardinal’s admission hinted at deeper complexities beneath the surface, implying that their plans had encountered unexpected challenges and complications. It was a rare display of vulnerability from the normally stoic and resolute Cardinal, revealing the inner turmoil and conflict that plagued him.

“Oh,” she said with realization, her voice laced with a mixture of understanding and accusation. “I see what this is. You wanted to keep your little blood bank.”

Her remarks sliced through the tension like a knife, exposing the Cardinal’s hidden motives and the real reason of his actions. It was a damning revelation, a stark reminder of the Cardinal’s selfishness and lack of regard for the consequences of his decisions. In her assertion, the Sister captured the core of their unstable relationship, emphasising the power dynamics at work as well as the simmering problems beneath the surface.

The Cardinal’s response was measured yet weighted with underlying stress, his tone betraying a hint of defensiveness mingled with a touch of resignation. “It’s not about that, Sister,” he replied, his words carrying the weight of truth and conviction. “We both know the risks involved in the second ritual. We can’t afford to gamble with her life.”

“We need to control her!” The Sister exclaimed.

“And we will, I just need more time.”

“We’re running out of it, Copia! Our window of opportunity is closing, and if we don’t act soon, we risk losing everything we’ve worked for for the Dark One!” The Sister’s voice crackled with urgency, her words echoing the gravity of their situation.

“He doesn’t need another angel, He’s received plenty over the years.”

“No, but he needs information!” Something smashed in the other room which caused you to jump in surprise. “How many times must I remind you that Lord Lucifer gave us eternal life to do His bidding and give Him an advantage for the centuries to come? We are indebted to Him, and we could lose our lives because of your idiocy!”

The Cardinal protested, “He wouldn’t do that. He’s not Yhwh.”

There was a noticeable tension in the room as the Sister and the Cardinal argued angrily, both standing up for their own fears and motivations. You listened closely, your pulse thumping in your chest as you realised the magnitude of the situation. They were playing a dangerous game that may have serious ramifications for both you and them.

As the dispute progressed, you couldn’t help but feel a sensation of unease sweep over you. You were caught in the centre of their power battle, a pawn in their ultimate plan to serve Satan. But deep down, you knew you were more than just a tool to be used for their benefit. You were an angel with individual thoughts, feelings, and wants. And even though the Cardinal was in there defending what you believed to be your honour, he still seemed to forget that.

“You have until the next full moon, Cardinal!” The Sister shouted, her voice getting quieter. “If you’ve not gained control over her then, we’re doing things my way.”

The Cardinal huffed, and in a high-pitched, mocking tone, he repeated, “If you’ve not gained control of her then, we’re doing things my way.” This sentence was punctuated by a string of expletives in his native tongue, no doubt cussing her out angrily for the outcome of the argument. He continued to mumble to himself as he moved about the living room, no doubt beginning to clean what had broken.

You were unsure whether to move, or to stay where you were. As of now, you were on his bed, lavishing in the comfort and enjoying some freedom - if you were to leave, he might put you back in your cage. And so, you stayed put, your mind swirling with thoughts and emotions. The weight of the Cardinal and the Sister’s ultimatum hung heavy in the air, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of being trapped in a precarious situation. You even went as far to close your eyes as though you were still sleeping when the Cardinal came back into the room, gently closing the door so as not to disturb you. You felt the bed dip where he sat on it beside you, and though you couldn’t see them, you knew his eyes were on you, trained on your face and burning into your mind as if he were trying to read it.

You remained still, feigning sleep as the Cardinal’s presence loomed over you. Every fiber of your being was on high alert, your senses attuned to the slightest movement or sound. The tension in the air was palpable, a silent battle of wills unfolding between you and the Cardinal.

You could feel his gaze boring into you, probing for any sign of wakefulness or vulnerability. Despite your best efforts to maintain the facade of slumber, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that washed over you in his presence.

Minutes passed like hours as you lay there, locked in a silent standoff with the Cardinal. Each passing moment only served to heighten your apprehension, amplifying the sense of confinement and helplessness that enveloped you like a suffocating shroud.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you sensed the Cardinal’s presence recede. The bed shifted as he rose from his seat, his footsteps fading into the distance as he left the room.

Alone once more, you allowed yourself a moment of respite, exhaling a sigh of relief as the tension slowly dissipated. But even as you closed your eyes and attempted to find solace in the darkness, the weight of the Cardinal’s gaze lingered in your mind, and the memory of the Cardinal’s touch lingered like a ghostly imprint on your skin, haunting you even in his absence. Each sensation, from the prick of the needles to the gentle strokes of his hands, replayed in your mind with vivid clarity.

There was something about his gaze when you were at his feet, and the gentility of his touches as of late, that had you deeply questioning both the Cardinal’s intentions, and your own resolve. How this strange attention from him was awakening you in a way you never thought was possible. And though you tried to drive away the sin, you still couldn’t forget how your body responded under his scrutiny. You shuddered involuntarily as the phantom sensations danced across your flesh, a chilling reminder of the violation you had endured at his hands. Despite your best efforts to push the memories aside, they clung to you like a stubborn shadow, refusing to be banished from your thoughts.

You didn’t know how long you were out for this time, but when you woke up you felt almost entirely healed… and you were still on the Cardinal’s bed. You felt a fresh surge of energy entering your veins as you awoke from your sleep. The old aching that had tormented your body appeared to have vanished, replaced by a renewed life that left you feeling almost perky.

With cautious optimism, you forced yourself out of bed, appreciating the lack of agony that had plagued you for so long. As you climbed to your feet, you couldn’t help but wonder at the sense of liberation that swept over you, like a bird freed from its cage after a long imprisonment.

Stepping out of the Cardinal’s bedchamber, you entered the living room with anxiety, unsure of what lay beyond the doorway. The space was bathed in a warm glow of flickering candles, which created dancing shadows against the walls and gave the place a peaceful atmosphere.

Your attention was pulled to the figure sitting on the love seat, bathed in warm amber light that streamed through the room. The Cardinal was dressed in pyjamas and a robe, his usual powerful demeanour minimised by the informal garments and a tousled appearance indicating a recent bout of sleep.

He sat with a book in hand, the pages lit by the warm glow of the candles, his gaze seemingly immersed in the words on the page. His features were relaxed, with a tiny furrow of concentration on his brow as he read deeper into the text.

As you arrived, the Cardinal looked up from his reading, his mismatched eyes meeting yours with a flash of surprise before a faint smile formed on his lips. “Come here,” he ordered, returning his eyes back to the pages of his book. His voice was deep and gravelly, like it was the first time it was used that night.

For some reason, your body responded and did as you were told without the need for the halo, and you found yourself once again at the feet of the Cardinal, on your knees at his request. He moved his book and patted his thigh, inviting you to rest your head there, which you obliged, draping your upper body over him and pushing your cheek into the warmth of his robe. His hand found its way to your hair, and he gently stroked it, like a human would with their dog who was asking for attention.

Despite the internal turmoil that churned within you, there was an undeniable sense of warmth and comfort that enveloped you as you nestled against the Cardinal’s side. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his fingers threading through your hair with a tenderness that belied the darkness that lurked beneath the surface.

As you rested your head upon his thigh, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of security wash over you, like a weary traveller finding refuge in the shelter of a friendly inn after a long and arduous journey. The rhythmic motion of his hand stroking your hair was oddly soothing, lulling you into a state of peaceful resignation despite the turmoil that raged within your heart.

In that moment, as you lay entwined with the Cardinal, you couldn’t deny the conflicting emotions that warred within you. There was a part of you that recoiled at the thought of finding solace in the arms of your captor, a deep-seated instinct that screamed for you to break free from his grasp and reclaim your autonomy.

And yet, there was another part of you that yearned for the comfort and reassurance that his presence offered, a primal longing for companionship and connection in a world that seemed so cold and unforgiving. It was a paradoxical dance of desire and revulsion, a tangled web of conflicting emotions that left you feeling simultaneously adrift and anchored in the Cardinal’s embrace.

But as you lay there, enveloped in the warmth of his robe and the gentle caress of his hand, you couldn’t help but surrender to the moment, if only for a fleeting instant. For in the midst of chaos and uncertainty, there was a fleeting sense of peace to be found in the arms of the one who held you captive, a fragile sanctuary amidst the storm that raged within your soul.

“You’ve been asleep for ten days, Angel,” he commented absentmindedly. Double the time of your last recovery. No wonder you felt rejuvenated.

““I am disheartened to see thou hast not yet choked on my blood, Cardinal.” You told him, your voice more teasing than resentful.

The Cardinal heard this and chuckled, “I held on until you woke up, so you could watch it happen yourself.”

You tittered, “Now that I am alert, there is naught preventing me from enacting it myself.”

“You can try,” the Cardinal challenged.

“I shall indeed. However, it would happen when thou least expect it.” You sat up and looked at him. “I would mend more swiftly if thou did return to me my halo, even if it were but for a brief span.”

“Out of the question,” the Cardinal said moving his hand from your hair to your cheek.

“I shall perish if I do not retrieve it anon.”

“You’ll be grateful you’re not going back in your cage. Keep this up, and you’ll be back in there.”

You hesitated but still decided to ask, “Why didst thou set me free?”

“Don’t ask me questions I don’t want to answer.”

“How shall I discern to refrain from posing such queries if I am unaware of thy reluctance to provide answers?”

The Cardinal chuckled, “By the look on my face.”

“But if thy countenance be ever thus, then I shall never discern the difference.”

“You better not be calling me ugly.”

You giggled, “Not ugly, Cardinal. Yet I envision it proved troublesome for thy mother to tender affection towards thee.”

He slapped your cheek for your impertinence, not hard at all, in fact it was more like a tap. “Do you want to go back in your cage?”

You shook your head and draped yourself back over him as he wanted you to do in the first place. “I am exceeding content in this place, I thank thee.”

The Cardinal laughed. “I thought as much.”

You didn’t go back in your cage that night, or the night after. In fact, the Cardinal didn’t expect you to go in your cage at all except if and when the Sister would come and visit unannounced. But it was made very clear to you that the door would be locked at all times, and there would be at least two ghouls standing guard outside.

The days stretched into weeks, and still, you remained free from the confines of your cage. It was a strange and unsettling shift in dynamics, one that left you feeling both grateful for the newfound freedom and wary of the Cardinal’s intentions.

Without the familiar bars of your cage to contain you, you found yourself wandering the Cardinal’s chambers with a sense of cautious curiosity, exploring every nook and cranny as if searching for hidden answers amidst the shadows that lurked within the room.

In the Cardinal’s apartment, you uncovered a plethora of objects and trinkets that provided insight into his mysterious personality and the depths of his depravity. Ancient tomes and grimoires were scattered across the room, containing occult rites, incantations, and forbidden information. These books, bound in leather and covered with intricate sigils, contained intriguing symbols and metaphysical teachings that alluded to the Cardinal’s fascination with the occult.

You found an assortment of foreboding artifacts filled with dark power and nefarious purpose, hidden away in shadowy nooks and secluded alcoves. From ceremonial daggers and ritualistic equipment to elegant talismans and cursed relics, every piece exuded a malevolent aura that sent shivers down your spine.

Subtle sigils and symbols of unknown provenance were woven into the fabric of draperies and tapestries, and etched into the walls. These mysterious marks pulsed with ghastly energy, their meanings hidden by layers of mysticism and old legends.

Locked chests and coffers littered the room, concealing untold treasures and forbidden secrets. These perplexing containers were ornamented with sophisticated locks and enchantments, their contents shrouded in ambiguity, and protected by powerful wards and incantations.

As you began to examine the Cardinal’s chambers, your keen eyes noticed a little, intricately carved wooden box nestled away on a shelf in the corner of the room. Unlike the other artifacts in the room, this box appeared to exude a sense of hidden charm rather than obvious malevolence.

Intrigued, you approached the shelf and cautiously raised the box’s lid to see its contents. A collection of exquisite treasures and keepsakes were snuggled inside, surrounded by layers of smooth velvet lining.

A little bundle of velvety, mousey-colored hair, comparable to the Cardinal’s sat inside the box, held together with a beautiful, black ribbon. Despite its unassuming appearance, this keepsake exuded solemnity and veneration.

A beautifully drawn miniature portrait of a solemn-faced woman with piercing eyes and a soft, yet forced smile sat underneath the hair. The craftsmanship was exceptional, catching every detail with astonishing precision. After careful examination, you recognised it was a younger image of the Sister.

A little sachet containing fragrant herbs and spices released a delicate yet seductive perfume of lavender and rosemary into the air. Its purpose and significance remained unknown, adding to the collection’s uniqueness.

And an old pocket watch, its numerous gears and mechanisms glimmering softly in the chamber’s faint lighting. Despite its antiquity, the watch appeared to be properly kept, indicating that it held sentimental worth for the Cardinal.

Some of the books around the place, you’d come to learn only hours after being left alone and free for the first time, were novels rather than entirely non-fictional, educational works. Novels from romances, to horrors, to contemporary works and classical, you found them all among his private collection. And that was how he found you when he came home that evening, curled up on his love seat with a book in your hands and your nose buried deep into it.

“Having fun?” He asked, removing his hat and placing it on the dresser in front of the door.

You didn’t hear him at first, too occupied with the world in front of you to realise he had even returned home. When he repeated himself, you finally acknowledged his presence. “It is wondrous what you mortals would engage in during thy leisure hours.” you remarked, closing the book but trapping your finger between the pages. “Truly, this is a marvel. I find myself transported to another realm, yet anchored to this very seat!”

He smiled. “If you like that, then you should watch a movie. Or play a video game.”

“I am content with these works, I thank thee.” You replied. “Though, I must declare, it will not be long until I complete thy collection.”

“Well,” he moved your legs and sat down beside you, removing the book from your hands, “let me know when you do. I’ll get one of the ghouls to bring you up a selection from the library.”

“Hath this place a library?” Your eyes widened.

“Yeah, of course. The Vatican has one, why wouldn’t we?”

Come to think of it, it did make sense that the Satanic Ministry would have its own library filled with untold knowledge, given that was why Lucifer was expelled from Heaven in the first place. “How many of these tomes doth it possess?” You asked, curiously.

“So many questions.” He said, tapping his belly.

“Inquiries thou art disinclined to respond to?”

He nodded.

You sighed, “Then shall I remain forever ignorant.” You sat back to your original position and opened the book again, choosing to read over conversing with him.

That night, he worked at his desk by candlelight, with you at his feet, a book in your hand and head in his lap. Every now and then, he’d reach down to stroke your hair, but in the meantime, your presence was simply enough for him. Sometimes, when you were alone in the apartments, your mind would drift off to the Cardinal and his sudden change in behaviour. How his guilt at violating you was enough to change him almost completely.

As you reflected on the Cardinal’s change, a ray of hope flickered within you. His sudden concern for your well-being and sympathetic gestures, however fleeting, provided a glimmer of redemption amid the darkness of your incarceration. With each stroke of your hair and soft touch, the Cardinal appeared to silently atone for his past wrongdoings finding solace in the calm companionship you offered.

Even while you basked in the warmth of his devotion, a niggling worry lingered in the back of your mind. Could this sudden friendliness be genuine, or was it only a ruse to conceal deeper intentions? Perhaps he’d realised that getting information out of you through torturous means wasn’t getting him anywhere, and so he was trying to trick you with falsities to get what he wanted. Despite your worries, you couldn’t resist the pull of his presence, the way his touch sparked a desire within you for connection and understanding in an uncertain world.

As the light flickered and cast swirling shadows across the room, you found yourself slipping into a state of calm, nestled on the Cardinal’s lap, the weight of the book in your hand a reassuring reminder of the brief moments of tranquility you enjoyed in his presence. And at that moment, surrounded by the lovely glow of candlelight and the quiet whisper of turning pages, you allowed yourself to imagine that escape was possible if you simply bade your time and waited long enough.

As expected, you’d gotten through all of the books in his possession and found yourself craving more. It didn’t take you long to get through the entire library situated on his shelves, and you found yourself igniting with boredom. Now that you’d had the privilege of freedom (or rather, freedom adjacent), you found yourself crawling the walls itching to be released unto the mortal realm like a bird.

The Cardinal was out for a lot of the night, meaning you had nothing to entertain you, until you noticed the box large rectangular box, its glossy surface reflecting the dim light in an almost mesmerizing manner and hanging on the wall opposite the love seat. You’d spent so much time with your nose in a book, you’d hardly noticed anything else.

You took hesitant steps towards the curious object, your fingers running down its smooth exterior. You saw your own reflection in the black mirror, and pulled some faces before your fingers continued their journey across the cold box. You observed a row of buttons organised neatly on one side, each with enigmatic symbols and marks. Intrigued, you tapped one of the buttons, your mind racing with possibilities.

To your surprise, nothing happened at first. Determined, you continued to investigate the thing, prying and poking at its many parts in search of any clues as to its purpose. Your efforts were met with quiet until, finally, your fingers brushed against a small switch buried between the buttons.

With a slight click, the frame sprang to life, its surface flashing to reveal a brilliant display of colours and images. Your eyes widened in amazement, watching as it began presenting sights from faraway countries and odd faces unlike anything you’d ever seen before.

Intrigued by this novel display, you reached out to touch the images dancing across the screen, only to discover that they were just beyond your reach. You were fascinated as the scenes altered and transformed before your eyes, each one providing a glimpse into a world beyond your own.

You reached down and pressed a different button, and the image cut out, replaced by something else. A purple door came into view that was opened by a woman, so angry, her arms were flailing as she stormed into the room. “I cannot believe that you didn’t tell me that we are still married!” She exclaimed.

Following her, a man entered, equally as frustrated and more guilty. “Look I was going to tell you!” He argued back, somehow much calmer than her.

“When?! After the birth of our first secret child?!” Laughter from a crowd of people sounded through the speakers, making you turn around thinking that they were in the room with you. They weren’t. “Ross didn’t get the annulment; we are still married.”

Their friends sounded disgusted and surprised, the blonde one more so than the rest.

The man called Ross sighed, “Okay, maybe it wasn’t my best decision. But I just couldn’t face another failed marriage.”

Another man spoke up, his tone flat. “Okay, let me just jump in and ask, at what point did you think this was a successful marriage?” The people laughed again.

Ross spoke again, awkwardly laughing, “Rach, come on, if you think about it, it’s actually kinda funny.” He laughed alone in the room, but the crowd laughed again. Even though you didn’t understand entirely what was happening, the laughter made you chuckle, too. “Okay, maybe it’s best not to think about it.” More laughter.

A woman spoke this time, long blonde hair and a lilt to her voice, “Okay, this is inexcusable. I am shocked to my very core!” She sounded like she was exaggerating.

“Phoebe, I told her you already knew.”

Everyone looked at Phoebe for a moment, and she processed her next words: “Another lie. You have a sickness!” So many sins, such little time.

The other man from before spoke again, in the same jovial tone as before, “Ross, just for my own piece of mind, you’re not married to anymore of us are ya?”

The clip ended and was replaced with a yellow couch sat in a field in front of a fountain, so large, it couldn’t be hidden behind the seat. A lamp sat beside it, as though it were the one lighting the field despite its dull brightness. No, not a field… a park? There were lights behind it that resembled buildings. Text appeared on the screen, each letter separated by a different coloured dot; red, yellow, blue, red, yellow, blue.

A song began to play from the device, an enthusiastic and engaging song, with energetic guitar riffs and rhythmic percussion. As the tune filled the room, you found yourself tapping your foot to the beat, enthralled by the music’s captivating vitality. Although, when it first sounded, you startled, and screamed out your surprise.

“So no one told you life was gonna be this way,” the song sung, followed by four, sharp claps.

A joyful group of voices sang the upbeat, playful words, which almost appeared to invite you into their world. They spoke of friendship and connection, laughing and love, building a story of shared experiences and memories that struck a chord deep within you.

As the song reached its peak, the visuals on the screen began to alter once more, revealing a group of individuals gathering on the yellow couch you had previously seen. Their features were strange… new - with each one smiling as they laughed and joked together.

You sat transfixed as the image unfolded in front of you, drawn in by the warmth and excitement emanating from the television. And when the final chords of the theme song died away, you couldn’t help but feel a connection to these strangers, as if they were old friends welcoming you into their group.

“Having fun?” The Cardinal’s voice sounded behind you, causing you to jump out of your skin. You turned to face him, eyes wide and fearful, and you noticed a dark glint in his eye as though he enjoyed making you squirm.

You stuttered, caught off guard by the sudden appearance of the Cardinal. “I… I was just… I found this… thing… and…”

He chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that sent shivers down your spine. “It’s called a television,” he explained, walking over to stand beside you. “It’s a device that plays moving pictures and sound.”

You blinked, trying to process this new information. “Moving pictures and sound?” you repeated, your curiosity piqued.

“Yes, exactly,” the Cardinal replied, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “It’s a form of entertainment. People watch television shows and movies on it.”

You tilted your head, still not entirely understanding. “What is… a television show?” you asked tentatively.

“It’s like a play, but recorded and shown on the screen,” he explained. “It tells a story, with characters and plots, just like the stories you read in books.”

You nodded slowly, beginning to grasp the concept. “And this…” you gestured towards the television, “is one of these… television shows?”

The Cardinal nodded, his smirk widening. “Yeah. And it seems you’ve stumbled upon one of the most popular shows.”

“What’s it called?” you asked, curiosity burning brightly in your eyes.

“It’s called Friends,” he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. “And trust me, you’re in for a treat.”

He sat on the seat and gestured for you to sit at his feet, and place your head in his lap like you usually did. The show continued with the two of you sitting like that, his hand in your hair and your eyes mesmerised by the show.

As the show progressed, you grew more immersed in the plot, your eyes glued to the screen as the characters moved through numerous comic scenarios. You couldn’t help but be fascinated and amazed by this new type of entertainment, which was unlike anything you’d ever seen before.

You took a few glances up at the Cardinal, examining his expression as he watched the show with amusement and focus. It was unusual to see him in this light, relaxed and almost… human. For a minute, you nearly forgot about the evil underlying his facade, the control he wielded over you.

In that moment, you realised you’d become too comfortable there; his pet in his Satanic temple, and you were too happy with it. For far too long, you had allowed yourself to be lulled into a false sense of security, seeking sanctuary in the Cardinal’s rare acts of tenderness and compassion. But now, as you sat at his feet, head in his lap, you couldn’t avoid the fact any longer.

You were nothing but a pawn in his sick game, subject to his whims and ambitions. And, while you may have experienced brief moments of happiness in his presence, they were nothing more than illusions that masked the terrible reality of your situation.

With a heavy heart, you promised to break free from the ties that held you, to restore your independence, and to oppose the Cardinal’s authority over you. But you knew deep down that the journey to freedom would be difficult, and that the Cardinal would not give up his grasp on you without a fight.

As you looked up at him, a fire kindled within you, a desire to break away from his grip and make your own path forward. You may have been his pet for a while, but you refused to remain a prisoner forever.

“I have Saturday night free,” The Cardinal told you, eyes still fixed on the television, “did you want to see the library?”

His nonchalant question caught you off guard, prompting you to lift your head from his lap and stare up at him, surprised and hesitant. The possibility of visiting the library with the Cardinal was both exciting and unnerving, considering the power dynamics at work between you.

“I…I suppose,” you said cautiously, uncertain how to answer to his surprise invitation. The chance to explore the library, with its limitless volumes of knowledge and secrets, was obviously appealing, but you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of unease in the back of your mind.

The Cardinal nodded in answer, his gaze still set on the television screen, as if he were only half-listening to the exchanges. “Good,” he noted simply, before returning his focus to the show.

You couldn’t help but feel nervous about spending Saturday night alone with the Cardinal in the library. But, deep down, you were fascinated about the library’s secrets and the hidden truths it may hold. What a Satanic library would look like, and what precisely they had hidden away on their shelves.

When Saturday night rolled around, the Cardinal woke and begun getting ready for the excursion, before he turned to you. From beneath his bed, he pulled out a hefty chain. It wasn’t forged with hellfire, he told you, it was just a regular metal. But he understood that your strength wasn’t fully back to how it was when he first met you, after being without your halo for so long, so he was confident you wouldn’t break free of those chains.

You sighed and presented your wrists to him, grateful that it wasn’t going to hurt you but annoyed that you were still to be treated as a prisoner, despite that being what you were. But, he shook his head in response. “That’s not what I’m going to restrain, Angel.” He informed you, gesturing you to turn around.

He tied your wings together with that chain, making sure you couldn’t fly away. Your wrists remained unbound.

As you walked down the corridors of the Ministry, the eyes of the Satanic nuns and monks followed your every move, their gazes filled with a mixture of curiosity, suspicion, and perhaps even a hint of envy. You couldn’t fathom why they’d envy you - chained and restrained as you were paraded through the hallways like a prize. You couldn’t help but feel uneasy beneath their attention, knowing of the muttered rumours and speculation that would undoubtedly surround your appearance among them.

The Cardinal led the way, his steps confident and purposeful as he escorted you through the Ministry’s dimly illuminated corridors. You kept your attention fixed straight ahead, attempting to avoid the looks and whispers that seemed to follow you everywhere you went.

Despite the weight of the chains that bound your wings, you moved with dignity and grace, refusing to let your imprisonment shatter your spirit. You were determined to be strong, to face whatever trials lay ahead, in the hopes of one day breaking free from the chains of your imprisonment. Every now and then, you’d turn to find eight ghouls following behind you, and though you couldn’t see them, you were sure their eyes were firmly fixed on you beneath their masks.

As you entered the ancient library, the massive wooden door groaned behind you, trapping you inside the unhallowed halls of knowledge that had stood for generations. The air was dense with the perfume of worn parchment and the faint mustiness of time, a fragrance that enveloped you like a veil as you walked through the maze of high shelves.

Dim, flickering lighting produced lengthy, dancing shadows on the walls, showing the building’s solemn design that dated back millennia. The roof soared high above, covered with exquisite, time-worn frescoes that appeared to guard the numerous tomes below. The air was still, interrupted only by the occasional rustle of pages or distant echo of footfall.

The shelves, built of dark, polished wood, stretched eternally in all directions, each bearing the weight of centuries-old books and forbidden knowledge. Some volumes appeared to sag under the weight of their age, while others stood straight and proud, their leather-bound spines broken and matured.

In the dead centre of the library, atop a reversed pentagram, stood a statue of a snake made from white marble, sat upon and winding around a black, marble pedestal. The snake’s jaw was unhinged enough to comfortably hold an apple between its sharp fangs, the apple itself had been painted the most delectable shade of richly dark red, and polished as though it were a real apple, so shiny you could see yourself in it. It represented the most famous of Lucifer’s triumphs: presenting “God’s children” with the knowledge they’d need to withstand his criminal behaviour. Standing in front of the snake, you very much felt how Eve would have: curious, enraptured and tempted, and you felt your stomach churn at the celebration of such a pivotal point of their ancestral history.

The pentagram the snake lived upon was also a marvel to behold, though you hated to admit it. The pentagram itself was carved into the pentagonal shaped stage, each of the corners of the star lining up perfectly with the points of the pentagon. Each straight side leveled out the different heights of the flooring using two, wooden staircases separated by a thick ramp - the ramps themselves covered in artistic portraits of all animals associated with Him, showing goats, cats, bats, owls and crows - all animals that became associated with Satan. All incredibly intelligent animals, no wonder the Catholics feared them. In a circle surrounding the pentagram were intricately carved atropa belladonna flowers and vines, floral representation of his existence. The petals of the belladonna were subtly stained a purple hue to replicate their natural colours.

The statue made you uncomfortable, especially as the snake’s eyes seemed to follow you around the room. And so, you ducked into one of the shelves and hid from its gaze, though you could still feel its sight burning on your skin. The Cardinal laughed at your discomfort, but followed you wherever you went, his ghouls immediately in tow. You had considered making a run for it, now that you knew the size of the library. And, there was a brief moment where you were about to enact your spontaneous plan. But the chain was still tied around your wings, and you wouldn’t get very far on your feet.

You cautiously reached out, your fingers tracing the spines of the ancient tomes that lined the shelves. Each book seemed to pulsate with a dark energy, whispering secrets and promises of forbidden knowledge. Despite your trepidation, you couldn’t resist the allure of the mysteries that lay within.

Your gaze fell upon a weathered volume bound in cracked leather, its title obscured by time and wear. As you pulled it from the shelf, a shiver ran down your spine, as if the book itself were alive and watching you with malevolent intent.

Next, your eyes were drawn to a tome adorned with intricate sigils and symbols, its pages yellowed with age and filled with cryptic incantations. You could feel the power emanating from the ancient text, calling out to you with a seductive whisper.

You spent what felt like an eternity wandering the shadowy aisles of the ancient library, your senses overwhelmed by the weight of the centuries-old knowledge that surrounded you. Time seemed to warp and distort within the confines of the unhallowed halls, leaving you disoriented and uncertain of how long you had been there.

In reality, it was difficult to say exactly how much time had passed. Minutes stretched into hours as you pored over the dark tomes, each page revealing new secrets and mysteries. The Cardinal’s presence loomed nearby, a constant reminder of your captivity and the precariousness of your situation.

You finally chose a book, despite the weariness of your bones after contemplating the tomes for so long. You were surprised to see such a wide variety of works, anywhere from fantastical fiction, to non-fiction books based on history and language. You had settled in the religions section, morbid curiosity getting the better of you and finding yourself wanting to know what the mortals truly thought of the Almighty and His grace. There were numerous texts debunking the existence of the Almighty, which you cackled at. You couldn’t understand how people wouldn’t choose to believe that at least one creator existed - even if it wasn’t the Creator. And, so, you picked up a Bible, the King James’ Version, to be precise, and made your way back to the Cardinal.

When he saw the book you were holding, he raised his eyebrow, but chose to say nothing. Instead, he watched you walk over to one of the desks and situate yourself there, ignoring the Satanic followers on the chairs nearby gawking at you with open mouths and pale faces.

The Cardinal approached just as you opened the book and cleared his throat, “Angel, what are you doing?”

“I am reading, Cardinal.” You responded, matter-of-factly, as though he were stupid. “I had not deemed your ancient eyes would falter in perception, albeit they bear the weight of eternity. Flaws in sight are unsurprising.”

“You do realise you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to?” He asked, staring at you warily.

You laughed, “To appropriate a tome from a library? Cardinal, ‘tis thievery. ‘Tis a sin.”

“You’ve been in libraries before, right?”

You sighed and closed the book. “Indeed, I have ventured into libraries. I have graced some of the grandest ones. The Library of Ashurbanipal, the Library of Pergamum, the Library of Alexandria… that last one was my cherished abode. Such splendor, such vibrancy. Delving into scrolls within was always a delight to my soul.”

The Cardinal flinched, “Maybe we should get you a history textbook on Ancient Egypt.”

“Thou possess a copy?”

“Several… was that the last time you went into a library, circa 100 AD?”

“Ah, yes. Mortal years tethered to the birth of Christ. Naturally, thou dost adhere to those. It was nearer to 100 BCE. It was my ultimate sojourn to the mortal realm before I ascended eternally to Heaven.”

“Great, so times have changed. Most books within libraries you can take home with you, and you can take home multiple at a time.”

You sat and listened intently to the Cardinal’s explanation on how modern libraries worked, and though you could feel he was holding information back from you, you were sure this wasn’t a malicious act. He was thinking before he spoke, making sure all of his words were simple and easy to understand. And so, with this newfound knowledge, you chose multiple books, most of them historical and linguistic based, allowing you to properly study the Almighty’s creations and what they’d done in your time between visits. Playing catch-up was always your favourite thing to do before your Heavenly missions began, and so it excited you to learn 2,000 years had passed and a lot had changed. Upon the Cardinal’s recommendation, you grabbed a historical textbook on Ancient Egypt, though you couldn’t fathom what new information you would learn, given you’d already spent so much time there.

Approaching the front desk of the library, you were met by a stern-looking Satanic nun who regarded you with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. Despite the discomfort of her gaze, you remained composed, knowing that any sign of weakness could be exploited by your captors.

With a sense of trepidation, you placed the stack of books on the desk, each one heavy with the weight of forbidden knowledge. The nun’s eyes flickered over the titles, her expression inscrutable as she scanned each one. After a moment of silence, she reached out with a bony hand and began to process the books, checking them out in silence.

As she worked, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that settled over you like a shroud. The library, with its ancient tomes and whispered secrets, seemed to hold you in its thrall, trapping you in its shadowy embrace.

Finally, the nun finished checking out the books and handed them back to you with a curt nod. You accepted them with a sense of relief, eager to leave the oppressive atmosphere of the library behind you. With one last glance at the forbidding shelves, you turned and made your way out of the building, the weight of the knowledge you carried heavier than ever before.

Prev. / Next

Find the artwork for this chapter by @piaart here!

[reikiajakoiranruohoja]

Murder Drones: Why Uzi Doorman is a good protagonist

Warning: Discussions of teenage angst and MD typical death and gore.

It isn't at all uncommon for a fandom to eventually deviate from its main characters and focus on the side characters. Murder Drones fandom does this as well, there are many fans of Doll, J, Tessa and even more minor characters.

However, despite these characters having their fans, the main character of Uzi remains very popular and well-liked.

In this essay, I want to examine what makes Uzi work as a character and especially as a protagonist. As well as how her mother, Nori, plays into this.

On the surface, it isn't hard for teenagers to like Uzi. After all, she is written based on the typical teenage outcast stereotype. Emo/goth with an interest in nerdy things such as anime and science. She has a dead mother and a father who is more interested in his work than in her. Uzi is the perfect audience surrogate character for any teen who feels like they don't belong.

The Pilot supports this; Uzi does something brave, gets a supernatural ally and proves herself to those who doubted her. Even the ending where Uzi decides to destroy all of humanity can be read into common revenge fantasies many teens have.

However, even in the Pilot, we start to see this narrative being challenged. While Lizzy and Doll act like stereotypical preps, Thad is clearly based on a jock and yet he reaches out to Uzi like a friend. Not once is this presented as Thad just tricking Uzi; his concern is genuine. Uzi's reaction to Thad is disbelief and bluster. It isn't just that Uzi is surprised Thad reached out to her, it does not fit her personal narrative or stereotypes. A Jock would never be nice to a nerd, after all.

In this, we start to see Uzi's greatest flaw and also the subversion she as a character represents. Like many teens, Uzi is heavily irony poisoned and afraid to be genuine. She bases most of her interactions on high school stereotypes, and her role is to be the 'cool' and 'edgy' outsider.

It is when Uzi meets Serial Designation N that the other side of her subversion comes into play. Though N is at first presented as nothing but a cold-blooded killer, his actual nature is quickly revealed to be that of a nice and polite young man.

Because Uzi is not the moral centre of the story, N is. While both he and Uzi go through the wringer as the story goes on, N is the character whose story deals with challenges to his morality the most. Though he is a dangerous weapon of mass destruction, N's sense of morality is strong and even by the PIlot has endured a lot. Uzi, the seemingly normal teenager, is the one N serves as the moral core for.

This is a subversion of your typical supernatural romance, where the girl is the one teaching the boy-monster about morality. Uzi's morality is all over the place and often, she is too insecure or afraid to be cringe to be honest with herself. It isn't that Uzi is totally immoral, rather she is just someone with very little filter and a self-inflicted pressure to perform her role.

It is for this reason that Uzi's character arc is focused on letting her guard down and accepting who she truly is. While N is challenged by the horrors of his past and his relationship with Uzi, Uzi is challenged by the fear of becoming a monster and the world not giving in to her personal narrative.

The danger Uzi poses as a Solver user is such that even the titular murder drones are afraid of her. Moreover, being a Solver user is something Uzi inherited from her mother. What Uzi truly is is seemingly out of her control and goes against her self-image. She is not the edgy and rebellious teen who befriended a scary monster, she is the monster who is being supported by two lesser monsters who seem much more moral than she is.

To serve as foils, the characters of Cyn/The Absolute Solver and Doll are introduced.

Cyn is shown to be disliked and feared by those around her, but unlike Uzi, Cyn embraces the monster and does exactly what she wants with whom she wants to. When humans are mean to her, Cyn massacres them all and even wears the skin of the person who saved her. She wants to keep her family together, so she abuses J and V into compliance and keeps resetting N's memories. The three are also being cloned just so Cyn never has to be without her 'family.'

In Cyn, we see someone who has a clear narrative of how things should go and who refuses to budge an inch from it. The scary thing is that Cyn's narrative is not too far from the one Uzi had at the start of the series. Cyn has destroyed humanity and is now leading a group of cool monsters of its own design. That the monsters were the people Cyn tortured and forced into their roles does not matter to her.

Cyn does everything it does in the show because it amuses her. But in the last episode, Cyn's narrative is challenged and she ends up defeated despite being much more powerful than Uzi. Because she got careless, being so convinced of her victory.

Doll, at first, has everything Uzi does and more. Her parents were killed by a Disassembly Drone, and she inherited Solver powers from her mother. Doll is also popular and in control of her powers, while Uzi barely understands hers. However, Doll is also driven by revenge and to reach her goal she is willing to kill others and even harm her friend. When Uzi offers an alliance, Doll refuses. However, it should be noted that the reason Doll says no has more to do with Uzi hanging out with murder drones than anything else.

Doll works alone, and eventually, she dies alone, her quest unfulfilled. Uzi lets others in and so she has people defending her from various foes.

It is at this point of the story that Uzi's mother, Nori, is re-introduced. She is still alive, though a core, and in her we see a solution to Uzi's problems. Both the literal crucifix patch and who Nori is as a person. Nori is seen listening to an anime opening with cat earphones and her whole living area is covered in her art and favourite things. But unlike Uzi, Nori is never shown to be ashamed about who she is. She is who she is and that is final.

Though the crucifix patch fails, Nori gives Uzi something that finally makes her daughter reach the end of her arc.

Nori throws an iPod playing a nightcore version of a metal song to serve as Uzi's battle theme.

This gesture seems small, but it serves to show Uzi that she can be who she wants to be. Damn what others think.

It is this epiphany that lets Uzi resist Cyn's control, as Uzi is now secure in who she is. And who she is is not the edgy or cool hero; it is a nerdy girl who likes anime and science and who has issues, but she is aware of them. Because she has let others in, Uzi is also helped by her friends and family through her fight with Cyn.

This is why I think Uzi is a great character because she is an argument against closing yourself off and trying to be someone you are not for the sake of a narrative you build in your head. Accepting yourself as who you truly are is important.

As a protagonist, Uzi works because she is challenged at every turn and she has to earn her happy ending through growing as a person. Because Uzi is not the moral centre of the story, her journey serves as an example of learning one's own worldview and sticking to it.

I hope this was an informative essay. Thank you for reading.

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

All Good Things [a Joel x f!reader fic]

Read on Ao3

Fandom: The Last of Us

Ship: Joel Miller x you/cishet female reader explicitly over 50.

Tags/warnings: This takes place after season 1 but nothing bad happens, everybody's fine, Ellie and Joel are cool. Teasing, Joel is a soft sub/switch, Joel and reader have aches and pains, vaginal dryness and erectile dysfunction mention, cunnilingus, unprotected PiV sex, creampie, Joel is a master of vaginal health.

Summary: You and Joel may be middle-aged and sex may be something of a challenge sometimes, but all good things come to the ones who wait.

Words: 4,768

My masterlist

”I hate that fuckin’ rooster.”

You agree with Joel’s throaty mutter as you blink your eyes open against the first light of day. It’s nice and warm underneath the covers, and Joel’s got his heavy, thick arm thrown over you, but just as you’re about to fall back to sleep, the obnoxious cock-a-doodle-doo from next door rouses you enough to fully open your eyes.

”It’s effective, though,” you yawn before stretching until several joints pop. Joel only grunts, sprawled out on his belly, face buried deep in the embrace of the pillow, arm around you. He’s not a morning person, and here in the safety of Jackson, he can afford the moments of laziness before taking on the day’s chores.

You turn towards him and press a quick kiss to his forehead before inching out of bed, Joel keeping his hand on you for as long as he can before you get up.

”Get back here,” he grumbles, but you just smile on your way to the bathroom for a quick shower. When you reemerge, Joel’s sitting up, feet planted on the floor, scratching his neck with one hand and his soft belly with the other.

”Leave any hot water for me?”

”Don’t I always?” You give him a playful little slap on his ass when he gets up and drags his feet past you to the bathroom. He glares at you, but you’re already on your way to the kitchen.

The smell of coffee lies strong when Joel comes out of the shower, a towel around his hips. He putters around the bedroom, picking up his clothes from yesterday, turning inside out and then back again, sniffing the armpits, discarding something to the laundry basket, deciding something else is okay to wear. You watch him quietly through the open door, thinking how very normal and domestic this is. How long it took you to reach this. How lucky you are to have Joel.

He arrived in Jackson with the girl barely a year after you. You had settled quickly, he took his time. He was difficult to approach, and he mostly spent time with Ellie and his brother. You worked a lot with Ellie, taking care of the sheep, and once she seemed to decided that you were trustworthy, she started to open up a little about what she and Joel had been through. At Maria and Tommy’s place, you had seen the little memorial to Maria’s kid, and Joel’s.

You didn’t have a plaque like that yourself, for which you were thankful. Had the outbreak not happened, who knows, maybe you would’ve had a family. As it was, you and your boyfriend got separated two days into the catastrophe, and you never saw him again. Since then, you had focused on survival. Sure, there had been comfort sex, a couple of times. It was never good, but it had provided escape, if only for a moment.

It was different with Joel. When you started hanging out with him, sex was the last thing on your mind. You had accepted that you’d probably go without for the rest of your life, and you were okay with that. You barely even masturbated: it took too long for you to get off, it wasn’t worth the loss of sleep. Then Joel came along, and you found that your interest in sex awoke again when he kissed you the first time.

Turns out, you were both old enough and damaged enough to find sex difficult. Joel’s knees are bad, your back is shot. Even without those problems, your first time sleeping with each other had been such an embarrassing experience that the only thing that kept you from never looking at each other again was exactly the thing that caused your complications: your age. You had been able to laugh about it, what little there is to laugh about vaginal dryness and erectile dysfunction, and then talk about it. Because lube and Viagra were luxuries of the past, you just had to make it work on your own. You may not enjoy sexual penetration as often as you’d like, but you had a good life together, you and Joel, better than you thought was possible, considering the circumstances.

Joel’s cute little ass disappears into a pair of boxers, and he pulls on a t-shirt. You feel something stir inside of you, and you put down your coffee mug, instead going straight to the bedroom to embrace Joel from behind. Hugging him tightly, you inhale the scent of clean man, and sawdust from his t-shirt.

”I love you,” you tell him quietly. Joel finds your hands on your chest, and take them into his own. His big, strong, capable hands that have hurt and killed countless people but are now callused from building futures for the community.

”I love you too, darlin’.” His voice is still raspy but there’s no mistaking the sincerety. When he turns around in your arms and faces you, you see a soft smile on his lips.

”Hi.”

”Hi,” you reply with a similar smile before leaning in and nipping at his lips. The taste of mint lingers on his lips: he brushed his teeth before breakfast, like he always does. You sometimes wonder about these small things: what in his early life made him take to this habit? To you, brushing your teeth before coffee makes no sense. Joel doesn’t seem to reflect on it, and you don’t bring it up, because it doesn’t really bother you.

His lips are soft, and they part willingly when your coffee-soaked tongue gently prods in-between them. You slowly move your hands over his back, then down to his ass, and his hands mirror the flow of yours. The kiss deepens, as does the tingling sensation in your core.

You break the kiss just as Joel lifts his hand to the back of our neck to bring you in closer. Stepping back, you throw him a teasing smile.

”Plenty more where that came from later tonight, cowboy,” you tell him, and Joel chuckles.

”Is it gonna be like that, huh?”

”You’re damn right it is.”

You return to the kitchen and finish your coffee. It’s time to go milk the goats.

///

You don’t see Joel again until lunch, which is taken in the communal dining hall. You and Ellie have been tending to the animals and arrive to eat together, finding Joel already inhaling the food on the plate in front of him. You set your tray down across the table from him, and Ellie takes the seat next to you. As you sit down, he throws you a warm smile.

”How’s your morning been?” you ask. He stuffs his mouth and nods, humming approvingly. You taste the soup, finding it heavenly, and tear a piece of the breadroll to dip into the bowl.

As you, Joel, and Ellie enjoy small talk, the tip of your boot touches Joel’s considerably larger footwear and moves up his ankle and calf. You haven’t played foosie since you were twenty or something, and doing it in boots isn’t maybe as arousing as slipping you bare foot between his thighs, but you do your best. When Joel realizes what you’re doing, he falls quiet and stares intently at you while chewing.

”Hey, are you even listening?” Ellie demands his attention, and without breaking eye contact with you, he nods.

”Sure.”

Ellie looks from him to you and shakes her head. ”Whatever, man.”

He gathers the rest of his soup broth on a piece of bread and pops it into his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. A drop of brown broth gets stuck on his lower lip, and you lean over the table to wipe it away with you thumb. Your heart is beating fast, and when you sit back down and put your thumb in your mouth, you see his nostrils flare.

”Gross,” Ellie mutters, takes her tray with her now empty bowl, and gets up. ”Get a room, you two.”

”Sorry,” you shoot after her, your eyes not leaving Joel’s.

”No, you’re not.”

When you’ve finished up as well, and have left the dining-hall, Joel pulls you in behind the building. Pressing you gently against the fragrant timber wall, he covers your mouth with his.

”You make me weak at the knees, sweetheart,” he murmurs. You taste the same garlic on him that you know is on your breath.

”You mean weaker than they already are?” you smirk, and Joel punishes you for your jab at his bad knees with a little bite of your lower lip.

”Bad, bad girl...”

You giggle and wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him like a teenager, enjoying the rather tame excitement of making out in a place where you could be seen, but nobody would care. The community is loving enough not to give a damn if two consenting adults are kissing each other in the middle of the day.

When you finally part swollen lips, both panting and like jelly in each other’s arms, Joel leans his forehead to yours.

”You wet?”

”You know I am.”

He places a little kiss on the tip of your nose. ”Hold that thought ’til tonight.”

”What do you think I was doing?”

He chuckles, warm eyes soft as he looks at you.

”I gotta go back to work.”

”Yeah, me too,” you nod, and both of you start a slow, unwilling detangle from each other.

”Don’t work too hard,” you tell him before parting. ”You’ll need your strength tonight.”

///

A few hours later, you take a break from your own work, and take some coffee and snacks to the building site Joel is on, along with a few other men. You stand for a while and admire the confidence with which he, board by board, erects a home for someone else. When he takes a step back to inspect his work, you step forward. His critical gaze turns soft the second he sees you.

”Time for a break?” you suggest, holding up the basket. He wipes his palms on his thighs and turns his broad frame towards you.

”You’re really butterin’ me up today, aren’t you?”

”Tryin’ my best.”

You put one arm around his waist and give him a quick kiss.

”I missed you,” you murmur into his good ear as he slides his hands over your waist. ”Missed your hands, your mouth...”

”Baby...” he breathes, but then his head jerks up as his fellow builders show up.

”We interrupting something?” Charlie grins.

”Yes,” Joel deadpans, but you turn around to face the men unphazed.

”I brought coffee and cookies.”

”Much obliged, ma’am,” Sam nods, and you hand him the basket. Hand on Joel’s back, you steer him after the men. Knowing how hard he works every day, you’re keen on him taking a break. Soon, all of you are sitting on the porch steps, drinking coffee and eating butter cookies. The men are talking about this and that, and you have found a knot in Joel’s shoulder and are carefully working it open. He doesn’t say much, but you can see from the relaxed line of his jaw and smooth forehead that he’s enjoying himself. When the men are getting ready to go back to work, you lean into Joel and whisper:

”You like my hands on you, don’t you?”

He exhales audibly, eyes flickering to your face after a quick glance at the men. His eyes under the eternally knitted brows are smoldering, and they set off the pull in your core.

"You're gonna make me take a long break, sweetheart," he tells you in a low voice. "Take you home and bed ya."

"In the middle of the afternoon, Mr Miller?" you grin, and close your eyes when he leans closer to nuzzle your neck. His bristles scratch the sensitive skin, and you shudder.

"Like we had no responsibilities at all in the world..."

He doesn't take you home and bed you, of course, but goes back to work after a kiss and another look that just about consumes you. You return to your own chores with a damness in your panties.

///

"Are you two gonna be gross again?"

You laugh at Ellie's question as she stands by the table holding her tray. Joel, who is next to you, keeps his dignity.

"Most probably."

She takes the risk, though, and sits down with you. Tommy and Maria join you as well, Tommy carrying their one-year-old Samuel. You all enjoy dinner and the conversation, Joel's hand only sporadically rests high up on your thigh, hidden by the table. After you've eaten, you take a moment outside the dining hall, talking and laughing until Samuel grows fussy and needs to be put to bed. Maria and Tommy excuses themselves, Tommy asking his brother if he's up for a drink later on.

"Nah, long day," Joel shakes his head, as his hand slowly moves from your lower back to your ass. "Early night for me."

Tommy and Maria wish you all a good night before walking away, and Joel's hand finds the back pocket of your jeans, sliding in and cupping your ass. You smile at him and put your arm around him, cupping his flat ass with your hand inside his back pocket.

Ellie looks from you to Joel, and shakes her head.

"You're not 14 years old," she grimaces.

"Neither are you," Joel reminds her, "so act your age, and deal with it."

"You telling me to act my age?"

"Whatever." The discussion is over for Joel's part. "We're callin' it a night."

"Good. I'm going to see a movie, and I don't want you two kissing in front of me."

"Good night, Ellie," you smile at her, knowing that Ellie's just ragging on you out of love. When you turn around and start to walk home, she calls out a Good night, and you hear the affection in her voice.

"Messing with teenagers is fun," you giggle, and Joel pats your ass.

"They're easy to upset," he agrees, pulling you closer. "But I don't wanna talk about Ellie anymore."

As soon as you get home to your little house, he pushes you up against the door, chasing your lips.

"Been thinkin' about this all day..."

You'd reply something sassy, but he has your mouth covered with his, tongue plunging in greedily, and you put your hands on his cheeks and slide your fingers through his hair, tugging at it at the back of his neck. He crowds you with a gentle urgency against the door, kisses the breath out of you, his own hot breath disappearing into you. His facial hair scratches and burns the skin around your mouth before long, and you savour that burn.

His lips are swollen with kisses by the time they leave yours, and he cups your cheek and strokes his thumb over it as he looks into your eyes, like he's trying to remember the shape and color of them. You smile, making him smile as well, and then you put your hands on his shoulders and start to walk him backwards towards the bedroom.

You turn on the bedside lamp for soft light. Joel tries to unbutton your plaid, but you shake your head and catch his wrists in your hands.

"Let me, baby."

Exhaling deeply, Joel lets his arms hang down and watches you as you start to pop open the buttons of his denim shirt. When you lean in to caress it off his broad shoulders, you press your lips to his in a kiss that you let bleed onto his cheek when your lips continue their soft brushing along his jawline. You sneak your hands underneath his t-shirt, caress the soft swell of his stomach before running your fingers up his sides. Joel nods his head down so that you can take the shirt off, and as soon as his head is free from the garment, you press your lips to his again. It's more playful now, the way you fondle different parts of his naked upper body and pour your smiles into the kisses, and he smiles back and tries to cop a feel of you.

"You in a hurry there, cowboy?" you tease him between the kisses, and Joel hisses softly when you pinch his nipple.

"Just want you so badly."

"I know, I want you too..."

You unbuckle his belt and push down his jeans and underwear, ghosting your hand over his still soft cock. He doesn't want too much attention to it, that only stresses him if he can't get it up, so you go back to kissing him while squeezing his ass.

"I should be doin' that t'you," he grunts between kisses.

"But now I'm doin' it to you..."

He ends up sitting on the bed, and you untie his shoelaces and take his boots off, then pull his pants off. You then push him down on the bed, take a step back, and start to slowly unbutton your shirt.

Joel sighs deeply.

"Is that how it's gonna be?"

"It is," you acknowledge with a smile. It's not going to be a sexy You can leave your hat on striptease, you're too old and jaded for that, but you're going to get undressed in your own time, and Joel can only watch.

And he does watch. He watches your every single move, mouth open and eyes slightly glassy. Each revealed inch of skin is noted, and by the time you're taking your panties off, you can see that he's getting hard. He doesn't like too much attention on his cock before he's fully hard, it stresses him, so you keep eye contact, and crawl into bed. You straddle his hips, settling your warm, dripping core over him.

Joel groans and his hands come to a rest on your thighs.

"Darlin'..."

You put your hands over his and make him squeeze your flesh.

"You wanna touch me?"

"Want nothin' else."

"You can, but I get to choose where."

You have to smile at his frown. Joel doesn't appreciate not being in control. His love for you and trust in your capability to make him feel good makes him accept your terms, though.

You guide his hands up your sides and under your breasts. Having passed the age of 50, you're secretly thankful you didn't have to age in a world of glossy magazines telling you the various ways in which your body is wrong. You don't have to compare yourself to lingerie models or the neighbor's young hot wife, who has a better job and tighter tits than you. You are alive, you are doing your part in Jackson, you are valued, and you are loved. Sagging tits and excess fat mean nothing, especially to Joel.

You let him cover your tits for a second before moving his hands to your hips, and his subsequent whine of frustration almost makes you feel sorry for him. You lead his hands back to your chest and let him fill his hands with your tits as you bend down to kiss him. A muscle in your back twinges, making you hiss.

"Babe?" Joel is immediately concerned.

"My back," you hurry to reassure him, "it's fine, I'm good."

"We could switch," he offers, "before you hips start to act up too."

You're already feeling a strain in your hips from sitting astride him. Getting older sucks.

"And what would you do to me if I agreed?" you smile sweetly, feeling his dick twitch underneath you.

"Treat you right," he replies a little inelegantly. Joel's not good at the talking bit, but he tries.

"Yeah?" you prompt him softly, touching your lips to his. "How?"

"I'd eat that pretty pussy of yours..."

You clench around emptiness. "Yeah...?"

He kisses you softly as he bends one knee, lifts his hip, and very gently slides you off of him. You rearrange yourselves, intertwining arms and legs as he rolls onto his side, facing you, and your lips meet again. You can feel your pulse in your core by now, a long day of anticipation finally catching up with you.

"Will you let me?" Joel now breathes against your lips, and you hum your approval. He immediately gets up on one elbow and starts to kiss his way down your body, pausing around your breasts to gently fondle and bite.

"Pretty," he murmurs, mouth full of soft flesh, sending heated tingles through your body and making your pussy clench. You thread your fingers through his hair until he takes your hand and holds it down on the bed. When he finally has had enough and moves down to the apex of your thighs, his breath on your folds alone makes you chew your lower lip.

"God, Joel..."

"Like it when you sound like that," he lets you know, his arm sliding around your thigh. "Now, just lay back and take what I have to give you, darlin'..."

The first lick melts you immediately, the second stokes the fire within. When you're fisting your hands into the sheet underneath you and moaning his name, he slides two fingers inside your dripping pussy. Your hips twitch at the intrusion, and he soothes you with broad, slow laps of his tongue at your clit, his fingers crooking to touch you just right.

"Joel..." you keen, "yes, there, please..."

He massages that spongy spot inside you, slowly and steadily, knowing that he can't rush this if he wants you to orgasm. It's difficult for you, maybe from the many years of living in fear, maybe from the same amount of years of no sex, sex drive, or romance. When you and Joel started exploring sex together, you were astonished by how horny you could be for another person while simultaneously finding the mechanics of sex so difficult. It surely hadn't been this complicated twenty years ago.

But both you and Joel were adamant to make it work, and that's what he's doing now. Your mouth is dry from panting, your thigh muscles are tensing up, your mind is going blank as you let his ministrations take you higher and higher. Painfully near the final soar, your hands clamber for Joel's at your hips, finding them and holding on tightly as you let go, your legs stiff as a board as your hips jut up, your thighs pushing shut, Joel's scruff suddenly too much on your sensitive skin. Your blood rushes and you let out a long, moaned sigh as your legs tremble before relaxation floods your muscles. Joel places one final, soft kiss on your clit before dragging his lips over your thighs, up your hip and over your stomach where his tongue dips into your navel. You hum, almost purr from his care, and when your eyes blink open, you find him smiling up at you.

"Beautiful," he murmurs. You release one hand from his and pass your fingers through his hair, then cup his cheek. He turns his face a little so that he can kiss the palm of your hand.

"Perfect," he whispers against your skin before your hand sneaks behind his head, and you pull gently to beckon him up, to you, to your lips.

His lips are covered in your slick and you lick at them, suck his full lower lip into your mouth, let your hands get lost roaming his broad shoulders. His cock is heavy and stiff against you, and you feel a surge of yearning within your core. The day of teasing, the foreplay, his service to you worked as it should: he's fully erect, stiff as a board, and it's so sexy that you think you're going to go crazy just from thinking about it.

"I need you," you whimper, pulling him down over you as you spread your legs to accomodate him. "Joel, I need you inside me."

"Can you take me?" he asks hoarsely, fingers running down your body to your weeping sex.

"Won't know for sure unless we try," you manage to quip, and he grins at you before pressing his lips against yours again. Kissing you deeply, he nocks his cock at your slick lips, rubs the head against your clit, then starts to push it in. The kiss is filled with moans, yours and his mingling with tongues, and despite your wetness, he's a lot to take. Still, you encourage him to fill you completely, your arms around him hugging him in, in, all the way in until he bottoms out, and stills. He breaks the kiss and draws back to gaze into your eyes. You smile, blissfully full.

"I'm okay, baby, I'm okay, you feel so good," you reassure him, words coming out breathlessly. Joel groans, head dropping to your shoulder.

"Darlin', you're killing me..."

He starts to slowly move his thick cock inside your embrace, lips open against your shoulder, teeth scraping without biting. You answer by wrapping your legs around him, left hip protesting a little but you don't care, you need him deep inside, need to feel that tight drag, need him to understand just how good it feels when he loves you like this.

"Harder," you beg, "take me harder, Joel, I want to feel all of your big cock."

He moans at that, his hot breath burning your skin.

"Can you take it?"

"I can take it."

He thrusts hard into you then, making you catch your lower lip between your teeth, your chin rising and one arm coming loose from him to brace yourself on the headboard.

"That hard, huh?" he smirks with his lips against your ear, and you chuckle breathlessly until he starts to fuck the smile off your face. Shifting his weight, he reaches for your hand braced against the headboard, and you let go to instead clasp his hand as he continues to steadily chase his release with one deep thrust after another.

"So good, darlin'," he gasps, "you're so good to me, fuck, I wanted to do this to you all day, wanted to bury myself in your warm pussy..."

You're all his when he talks to you like this. Joel finds the words when he's drunk on you, not before. Grinding into you with purpose, he keeps moaning out filth like this into your ear until his breathing becomes too laborous and his movements too  irregular.

"Come," you beckon him as he crashes his mouth to yours to swallow your words, "come, baby, come, I want you to come."

His moan when he empties himself deep inside of you is a helpless sound of surrender. You wrap your arms around him and hold him tight, forcing him to lay all of his weight on you. His quick heartbeats echo against your own ribcage, but slow down as his breaths become deeper and more controlled. You stroke his hair, thinking briefly how extraordinarily lucky you are. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, you rouse him from his rest.

"Go piss," he murmurs, and you have to laugh softly.

"Is that the first thing you tell me after sex?" you tease him. His lips quirk before he presses them to your cheek.

"I love you. Now go piss."

"You're on top of me, Miller."

"Hasn't stopped you from knocking me on my ass before..."

He does, however, roll over, freeing you up to find your bearings and get out of bed. After having used the bathroom, you return to bed where Joel is waiting for you underneath the covers. You turn off the bedside lamp and join him, letting him gather you into his arms and sighing deeply once the two of you are settled.

"Okay?" he asks quietly.

"M-hmm," you yawn, nuzzling his neck. "Sleepy."

"Me too."

Silence descends along with the darkness, and you're almost asleep when Joel speaks again.

"Hey?"

You murmur to let him know you're listening - just barely.

"I'm still standing."

You murmur again, not understanding. Joel takes your hand and leads it to his crotch, closing your fingers around his thick, sticky shaft. That makes you open your eyes.

"Oh..."

"You did that," he groans when you start to rub him slowly.

"I don't think so."

"Yeah, you did. All that waiting all day..." He moans when you drag your thumb over the head. "Baby, can you...?"

You smile at the wonder and anticipation in his voice. Twice in one night has happened before, but never this soon, never like this. You grow wet and heavy in an instant. To hell with sleep deprivation and sore joints.

"I can."

[essayist-unexpectedly]

Sports Anime and Queerness: Why are they always so Gay?

Within all anime, queer ships appear. Sometimes it’s just fans picking up on fun character dynamics, other times it’s because of the undertones of the show itself. It’s hard for any show to avoid queer undertones completely, and no piece of media truly escapes lgbtq+ ships and headcanons. Yet, more than any type of show, some of the biggest queer fandoms can come from sports animes.

Why is this though? Why do sports animes attract queer fans and ships so often - maybe even more than other fanbases?

There are different reasons for every person to be attracted to a specific type of anime. That being said - there could be three big reasons why sports anime attract queer audiences and ships specifically.Those are - the focus on internal character development, the dynamics and growth of relationships between characters, and the cast of characters. What may be found is that the character-driven focus of a sports anime attracts a queer audience because of the relatability that may be felt by some people - especially those just discovering themselves. Then, the relationships built up within the teams (and between opponents) is done in a way that can appeal to many ship dynamics. It appeals to the romantic soul that some people have. And then there’s the cast, which is mostly boys due to gendered teams in sports. It’s not that having girls around would stop the gays, but it may give straight people a fighting chance when it comes to sport anime ships. Then, finally, there’s the themes of sports anime - about never giving up, fighting for yourself, as well as being heavy on found family and acceptance of who you are.

The first point is the characters and their internal development. A sport’s anime focuses on a character’s internal development, even when there’s an overarching goal/plot. Haikyu!! focuses on Hinata and Kageyama growing to be better players, Blue Lock has characters developing an “ego”, Kuroko’s Basketball is about Kuroko wanting to grow as a player to help his old friends. The core of a sports anime is in its character development, it’s about a character discovering their strengths and weaknesses, about them learning about themselves. They’re always chasing after a goal, and they’re desperate to do what they love. To connect this to how it attracts queer people - being queer is all about self discovery. A lot of people will be able to see themselves in a character who is learning about themself. So, while sports anime’s protagonists go through a change that helps them improve their athletic abilities, as well as tests their resolve and determination to their goal, a queer person may see themself in that journey. The challenging teams are the daily obstacles a queer person faces - some bigger than others like unaccepting friends and family, everyday homophobia, etc -, the want to win the big tournament is the want to be accepted, and the whole self-improvement/discovery arc that the protagonists go on is a queer person trying to figure out their gender and sexuality. The internal growth of a sports anime protagonist attracts a queer audience because of the relatability, the wanting and longing that so many of the characters show appeals to the queer journey.

The second reason is the relationship building, and how it falls into ship dynamics. There are so many popular ship dynamics - rivals to lovers, childhood friends to lovers, dumbasses in love, chaotic/tired, just so many. Sports anime focus on characters isn’t only internal, but also external, and that means that so many different character dynamics are explored. There are so many instances where rivals end up on the same team, or where they have a deep bond over wanting to while wanting the challenge each other brings. There are also plenty of examples where friends have a growing tension between them, with dynamics from weirdo and normal, to protective and sweetheart. These dynamics always show up in sports anime. Kageyama and Hinata from Haikyu!! are classic rivals forced to work together, Nagi and Reo from Blue Lock are friends with frankly romantic undertones at times - with how Nagi only cares about Reo’s opinions and Reo always taking care of Nagi. Within Kuroko’s Basketball, all of the above ship dynamics exist - Kuroko and the Generation of Miracles can be seen as friends to enemies to lovers, Kuroko and Kagami can be seen as strangers to lovers, etc. The build up of the relationships between teammates and rivals within sports anime is so well developed, and they fall into the classic tropes people love. The characters personalities just make it better, as there can be loud/shy (like Asahi and Nishinoya, Haikyu!!), dumbass/weirdo (Bokuto and Akashi, Haikyu), there’s sun/moon characters (Kise and Kuroko, Kuroko’s Basketball). The characters having such distinct personalities and fun dynamics together make them easy to pair up romantically.

To connect to that point though, is the gender of the casts of different sports anime. The teams are almost always all boys, and occasionally they’ll have a girl as a manager or coach. So, putting that with all the tropes that can be found within sports anime - of course the ships are going to be gay. The casts of characters being mostly one gender will cause characters of the same gender to be shipped together and interpreted romantically. While it’s almost definitely not the intention of all sports anime to have only the one gender present and therefore usable for shipping, it still happens. The romance may not be part of the plot, but the almost all one-gendered casts make it easy picking for queer ships within the material. Maybe if there were more girls within the casts of sports anime, the gay ships would be less prevelant. Sadly for the girls, that isn’t how it’s looking - as sports anime with girls aren’t nearly as popular as the ones with male casts and, again, there are typically about 5 girls in most sports anime - and maybe 2 of them are lucky enough to be important to the story. The fact that boys are usually the focus of sports anime means that boys are the ones who’ll be shipped together, especially with how character driven the stories are.

The final point is the themes of sports anime. Most of them are about a character who never gives up, who always fights to prove themselves. It also comes with a healthy dose of finding those who do accept you and will help/support you no matter what. These are themes that hit home for so many queer people - especially teens, who are commonly the target audience of sports anime. To find your place in the world, no matter how much other people scoff and look down on you, is something that most (if not all) queer people can understand. The teams in sports anime often spend so much time together that they become a found family, just like how queer people flock to other queer people in order to form a safe space for themselves. The idea of having a goal (becoming an athlete) and finding people who support that goal (a team and coach) is relatable, it translates to having a goal (being able to be out and accepted as queer) and finding people who support (friends and family). There are so many people who don’t end up being accepted by their families and friends, so seeing it in an anime is really uplifting. It helps to bring hope that there are spaces for lgbtq+ people in the world, even if you have to search for it first. The theme of struggling towards a goal and finding people who you can rely on is a great theme for queer people, who need that in their lives.

Intentional or not, sports anime always manages to draw in a queer audience and produce gay ships. People are constantly looking to project on different characters, and sports anime make it all too easy with their character driven stories and arcs. The journey protagonists go on can draw in a queer audience due to them being able to project their own experiences onto what the character is struggling through. Shipping is a natural event in every fandom, especially queer shipping, but it’s made even easier thanks to how rich the character dynamics and relationships are in sports anime, as well as the fact that most casts are mostly one gender. The themes help to draw in not ships, but queer people in general - just like the character dynamics do. The way we as people can grow attached to characters and see ourselves in them allows us to also better appreciate the stories of found family and determination that the protagonists go through. So, while everyone can be drawn into a certain type of anime for different reasons, there could be deeper reasons as to why sports anime draw in queer crowd. It’s easy to see yourself within these characters, and even easier to imagine them happily playing sports with their “best friend” while declaring that they want to keep playing their sport together for as long as they can.

[butchpeace]

Usually I don't like to bring up fandom/cartoon porn stuff when it comes to double standards and misogyny because it sounds kinda stupid to argue about stuff like anime in the first place but then again I just see so much sexist undertones and I can't pretend I don't see it. This one discussion about yaoi in particular where people were getting upset about women consuming it and how they're sick of gay men being objectified and everyone was agreeing, and it felt like really targeted and conveniently ignored how it is for women. Like how long have women fought to not be objectified as well but it's always shut down? You know how much media and advertising sexualizes women to the point of where it's just seen as "normal". How much anime can you name with over sexualized female characters? When you speak out about this you get ignored OR your retaliation is seen as a personal attack. Why? The answer is because it's always a boys club and they're opinion must always come first. Those "Tboys" who transition because of gay anime porn act like they're different from any other fujo who hate girls. The only real difference is they can use their LGBT label to get around it being a fetish and label anyone who find their attitudes gross as "bigoted". It's always so strange people wanna pin the woman as the "enemy" to a default, when we're still oppressed. Inb4 someone says "well IM A WOMAN and I DRAW SEXY GIRLS TOO!" Congratulations you're proving my point of trying to find a way to shut down the discussion. Also inb4 someone calls me a "purtian", no not all. I'm saying this is hypocrisy people hate acknowledging

I don't think it's stupid to talk about this at all. The popularity of anime has skyrocketed in the past 10-15 years, and a huge amount of the gen z population specifically watches it.

And yeah, 99% of it is sexist. A lot of it is grossly objectifying in a way that would never be considered acceptable in mainstream western media, and the pedophilic undertones can't be ignored either.

People don't listen because they hate women and they don't want to challenge misogyny. That's why we have to keep speaking up!