#i just like making podcast men into cats

[rockosaur]

But what if cats

[crow-caller]

A book i clearly really really gotta read is Modelland by Tyra Banks, but honestly it is extremely intimidating. Listening to 372 pages talk and read it makes it seem like a surrealist campy body horror masterpiece. Well. Not masterpiece as in quality, but it's so off the walls bonkers I don't know how i could tackle it.

Its just bizarre, full of these teen girls being tortured by over the top 'tests' and monstrosities. Coherence is secondary, but I'm not sure what is primary.

[asce-of-hearts]

elaborating on my choso thoughts...

He didn't know why or how or when, but when he got too bored at work he ended up spiraling deep inside that internet rabbit hole. Men, with girlfriends or wives not half as good looking as you, but twice as submissive and compliant. Always tending to them, always catering to their needs.

He didn't feel envious, he didn't feel anything negative really. But reading through the comments and seeing quite a couple hundred of guys saying all women should do that, makes him feel weird.

He knows he isn't an expert, you're his first and only girlfriend after all. So would you really get bored if he wasn't all dominant and mean to you? He didn't want that, he wanted you to be happy! So, when he arrives home, he tries to give you what the internet says you want. Because, as everyone knows, nobody lies on the internet.

"___?" He tries to sound firm, even when his palms are sweating just a little. You look up at him from the sofa, a little confused at him not calling you the usual petnames, or immediately coming to hug and kiss you. "Where's my dinner?" You give him a puzzled look.

"Hello to you too, Cho. It's inside the microwave." You say, certainly a little... confused. You sit up, and he feels like he just disturbed a big cat, a tigress, and she's about to pounce over him and eat his innards. But he stands his ground.

"Heat it up for me," He tries to growl. "Now." Your eyes narrow, now standing from the sofa. He tries to control his heartbeat. He tries tries tries tries.

"Why are you talking to me like that?" You say, calm, collected. Even when you're fuming... and a little hurt.

"W-Well—" He stutters, his act crumbling in a matter of seconds. "I— I heard this guy on a podcast say that— Well, you know that— that women and men and— and social hierarchy and—" He starts to ramble about possibly the stupidest shit you've ever heard. So, when he's all red and flustered, you pull him down towards you by the collar of his shirt, and kiss him.

"Shut up, Cho," You order, plain and simple. And he nods, gulping down with his pretty eyes all doe and wide. "You're giving me a headache." He trembles as his hands come to cup your face, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"Sorry, princess."

Choso M.List

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[clarkeybabey]

❝ no seriously get your hands off my man ❞

summary; you don't like the way she acts around him playlist; miss possessive - tate mcrae word count; 1.2k note; this is for @raekensluver as she is in her miniminter era rn, no one else asked for this so its very much self-indulgent, back to our regular scheduled program after this one.

You and Simon enjoyed many parties in your time, much more when you were younger but, if you hadn't shown up for the charity match after-party he would've been given quite a bit of shit as he took charge of setting up almost everything. He's not stopped beaming since he woke you up yesterday with a coffee in hand for you, ensuring you knew it was nearly time to get going so everyone would be checked into the hotel before training.

Danny makes his way over, Ten's arm hooked with his, a blonde girl whose face is vaguely familiar in tow, "Simon!" Danny dabs him up pulling him in to aggressively clap him on the back, Your husband stumbles slightly before straightening up. They go into a loud conversation about the match attempting to speak over the bass-boosted music.

Tennessee and the nameless girl ogling at Simon sidestep around the two men over to you, "Ten, darling, you are glowing," you pause to kiss her cheek before continuing, "And admirable, can't believe you're out. I'd rather be under several duvets and I'm not pregnant." She smiles, shaking her head, "Glowing, no, oily, absolutely. Wouldn't miss it, Danny's floored." The girl behind her clears her throat, reminding you both of her looming presence.

"This is Emma Moran, she was on locked in with us," and that's when it hit you. The insufferable woman from Locked In who couldn't seem to keep her hands to herself when it came to the guys on there with even the slightest bit of clout or interest in anyone but her. She wanted attention, negative or positive, in her eyes any of it would do.

You nod along as she fangirls over your husband and his friends, he had fans so this was nothing new but she seemed to discuss solely followers and how she had been trying to get in on a Sidemen shoot or their podcast since the end of the show but never had success. "Maybe you could put in a word," she smiles too big for it to be real, you find yourself unable to control the way your face twists.

Her blue eyes flit from you to him a few times before settling on his face, "Uh, I can't really do much, I mean, I can mention you?" The words come off your tongue sounding unintentionally bitter, "They honestly do their own thing guest wise, I'm just his wife."

"That'd be nice, thank you," you smile, albeit tight-lipped, the next thing she says catches you completely off guard and based on how her brows knit together, Tennessee was thrown off just as much as you: "He is very nice to look at isn't he?" You narrow your eyes in her direction, doing your best to let the comment roll right off your back, he gets that from hundreds of thousands of girls daily. "Yeah, he is. One of the reasons I married him."

Silence quickly falls among you, and Simon, being only an arm's length away, picks up immediately on your now stiffened form and the abrupt ending of the conversation. Emma senses the awkward tension within the circle "Think I'm gonna go get a drink." Her grin resembles the Cheshire cat as she saunters off to the drink table, and poor Arthur Hill gets roped into a conversation with her.

The hazel-eyed girl watches her slip through the crowd of people and once she deems her out of earshot she's quick to let apologies flow, "I'm so sorry about her, she's so odd." You shake your head, giving her shoulder a squeeze, "Her actions are not your responsibility, you have nothing to be sorry for."

"No really, I knew I shouldn't have introduced her," she fidgets with her fingers quickly becoming anxious, "Ten, it's not your fault. I'm fine, I promise." Fine, yes, shocked at her audacity, absofuckinglutely.

Warmth creeps up your neck and soon your whole face feels hot, but you continue the lighthearted conversation with your friend, trying your best to relay how fine you thought you were. You're partial to crashing out in the middle of a party celebrating your best friends but if you could see her undressing Simon with her eyes at that moment, that feeling might just change.

Your ears perk as Danny excuses himself, wanting to mingle with some others Tennessee mutters more apologies as she follows behind her fiancee. "What was that about?" He quickly asks after they've stepped away. Rolling your eyes at the thought of what she said, your hand finds the back of his neck, ushering him down to your height.

"You see that girl over there?" He hums leaning into your touch, "She's your biggest fan, you know that?" another grunt of acknowledgment rumbles against your back, "Said you're nice to look at."

His bottom lip juts out and his brows shoot up, "Oh, really?" You tell him about how she was eyefucking him while you spoke with Tennessee and while you do so Simon's lips meet the exposed skin of your shoulder, his fingers graze over where his mouth just was, sliding the sequined strap of your little black dress down but not completely off.

Public displays of affection like this were few and far between, not due to a lack of admiration but because you loved so deeply it felt too nice to let the negativity of the outside world taint it. Even in the early years of your relationship back in school, you saved it for when it was just you two, now you keep it for when you know there are no cameras to be shoved in your face to capture such intimate moments. At this very second, something within you was staking its claim over him so everyone was aware he was not up for grabs.

"She's definitely watching," his warm breath fans over the place where your neck meets your shoulder, goosebumps rising in the wake of his words. You meet her baby-blue eyes from across the room, watching as her tongue darts out to wet her lips. He speaks up again, rubbing down your sides, to your hips getting dangerously close to the hem of your dress, "Why don't we get out of here?"

You sigh leaning back into him, "Yes please." He laces your fingers together, his thumb fiddling with your wedding ring, keeping you close as he makes his way through the sea of people.

You stop in your tracks unknowingly close to the refreshment table where she was last seen, "Shouldn't we say goodbye before," you cut yourself off at the sight of Emma's manicured hand on his bicep, "Simon, right?" she plays into faux oblivion, "I never got to introduce myself," before she can continue, he removes her hand from his arm stepping back from her.

He doesn't bother exchanging pleasantries, "I'd love to stay and chat, but we've really got to go." Her mouth hangs open before she can rack her brain for some form of rebuttal he's turned, tightening his grip on your hand. You can't help but turn giving her the same sickeningly sweet smile she shared with you earlier, following it up with a wave as you round the door and are out of sight.

[cemetarybabyyy]

propaganda im NOT falling for

Sabrina Carpenter/Benson Boone/Tate McRae or anyone of that sorta

morning shed/going to bed ugly so i wake up prettier

“i don’t like cats”

erewhon

embarrassment/everything is cringe

steve harrington/stranger things

snapchat

tiktok

strict parents

girls who only talk about men

AI anything

hating pink

dubai chocolate

cottage cheese

wincest

hating negan TWD/glenn glazers

microtrends

ronnie radke haters

concert tickets over 200 dollars

alpha males/any man with a podcast

skinnytok/being skinny = healthy/being skinny is in/any thing that sounds disordered

any bad politics

crumbl cookie

”suicide is selfish”

body hair on woman is gross

body shaming

clean girl aesthetic/those ugly fuckass slick backs

“money can’t buy happiness”

YouTube shorts

”texting is better then calling”

wireless headphones.

color analysis

going back to your ex/teenage girls acting like their dating life matters at like 16/10-13 year olds dating

marvel fans

”watching gore means you’re a bad person”

male anime fans

lana del rey haters

”spring is my favorite season”

”i don’t like animals”

starbucks haters

”burger king is better then mcdonalds”

”i like mint chocolate chip ice cream”

”cake is better than pie”

”the office is boring”

people who hate on labubus/sonny angel baby things

people who like andy biersack but hate ronnie radke

”the beatles are overrated”

thinking alt fashion/style is “demonic/you worship satan”

marilyn manson haters

people who can’t separate the art from the artist

girls who make being small their whole personality

tarayummy/johnnie/jake/carrington

those fugly ass triplets (can’t remember their names)

“c.ai/janitar.ai is weird”

”selfshipping is weird”

the summer i turned pretty

almost any netflix original show (stranger things, outer banks)

the office last season.

”i hate family guy”

”the simpsons is better than family guy”

men under 5’5

”brat by charli xcx sucks”

“happier than ever was billies worst era/album”

met gala

people who hate on other people (mainly woman) who are into astrology

“but theyre your family”

only listening to one genre of music

hating on taylor swift just to be different

“i used to be so cringe”

coachella

exercising everyday

”ringo was the ugly beatle”

making every single movie now star a girlboss lead

men with tiny waists

alex turner

british men

sleeping in the dark

not letting your dog/cat up on furniture

instagram

“parks and recreation was better than the office”

”jim was really the bad guy in the office”

people who enjoyed the fnaf movie

people who say matthew lillard is ugly

”billy is hotter then stu”

hating glenn quagmire

30 being considered old

courtney love haters

“courtney killed kurt”

people who actually enjoy mountain dew/root beer

rainbow dash being anyones favorite my little pony

looking perfect all the time

having perfect straight/white teeth

ugly men thinking theyre attractive and beautiful woman thinking they are ugly

shipping grown men (tomxmark, jensenxmisha)

if i say i like elvis and u start talking about how he got with priscilla when she was underage

picks boys/girls

heartstopper.

proana

bmi

cybertrucks

[phoebebuggers]

modern party high school/college headcanons that will maybe kind of end up in my text au if i ever go back to it

mike is a tote bag user and a letterboxd fanatic!! he listens to alternative rock especially weezer but he's not a music elitist he likes pop and stuff too. he still plays dnd and i feel like he probably reads like classic fantasy book bro books u know (brandon sanderson, GOT, LOTR, prolly also like steven king and stuff which the rest of the party also like.) cat person. he is such a film bro it's obnoxious and he has to shove his letterboxd account down your throat every 5 minutes after meeting you. says he's bitter and evil but would do anything for his friends (canon.) video essay watcher. dirty-ass pair of falling apart converse at the end of their life begging for mercy that he refuses to replace. ADHD diagnosis.

will loves thrifting and coffee shops and museums but not in a performative pinteresty way he just genuinely likes these things. had an art hoe aesthetic phase around 2020 and will never live it down. subverting all gay stereotypes by not knowing anything about gay/stan twitter and being happier for it. kind of a music elitist ('can i see your spotify wrapped??') but not as much as jonathan who he learned from. still loves the smiths, the cure, etc but i think he would also be into modern indie nowadays. i feel like he would have a huge chapsticks/lip balm collection bc his lips are chapped all the time and it's just like a running joke atp. major art kid draws all the time we been knew listens to podcasts while he does art. goes to therapy

lucas is still kind of a jock but i'm kinda anti jock lucas because he will never truly fit in with them he will always be a nerd first!!!! still plays basketball tho and runs cross country (all men who run cross country are a little bit unhinged and free.) wears a hairtie on his wrist in case max needs one. kind of matches will's evil music complex from the other side with objectively good music def likes tyler, brent, frank, SZA (max likes the same their music taste kind of bled into each others.) very good social media presence like color coded feed, highlights, pinterest worthy pics etc (digital camera user.) likes to cook. chronic notes app list user. wanted to be a youtuber as a kid. type of guy to say "um, guys, that was awkward!" etc etc and everyone clocks him for it

dustin is a reddit user but not in a weird incel way in a genuinely helpful and knowledgable way. he also wanted to be a youtuber because he fucking loved matpat as a kid. he also would love the green brothers. a sneakerhead. keeps his keys on a carabiner (max tells him he looks like a lesbian.) also very up to date on pop culture like max is, probably quotes that one baron trump suitcase video daily among other things. does a few very good very niche impressions. i feel like everyone in the party is a good student but dustin is definitely the best a genuis future engineer or smth. he's the friend who always has those party games but can't read a cards against humanity card without laughing (max has to read for him)

el knows it's trash but loves reality TV (real housewives) and also glee. probably volunteers a lot. she was probably like the most boy-crazy fictional man/celebrity obsessed tween but ended up being bisexual/questioning lesbian. chronic story liker and responder so everyone thinks she's in love with them but she's actually just really nice and maybe doesn't 100% understand the social cue. she was also in theater because i want her to be her own genre of nerd maybe not in big roles because i don't see her as someone who loves being the center of attention but in ensemble. type of person to make goals like "try a new type of apple every week for a year".

max is up to date on tiktok/internet memes and kind of speaks fluent reference. probably watches real housewives and dance moms with el (will will join in occasionally for glee.) she also thrifts a lot of her clothes and has very cool style in kind of an idgaf what anyone else thinks way. huge flannel collection. does stage crew. i know she skateboards in canon and she still would but i feel like she would also do roller-derby or like speed skating or something. similar music taste to lucas but also a swiftie from a young age. had a panic at the disco phase and did crazy 2020 eyeliner (it's not a phase, mom) and will never live it down. keeps a journal. goes to therapy

bonus:

mike and max never shut the fuck up during class and always have to whisper something objectively hilarious to each other/one of their friends while the teacher is talking

will el and max have a book club where at least someone lies about having read the book every month and they spend the whole meeting gossiping and eating snacks

will forced them all to get airbuds and airbuds reacts mike listening to mcr with mildly disappointed faces and cat emojis

mike and dustin had a phase where they were really into like conspiracy theories and UFOs and cryptids and stuff

lucas bought a stanley cup with no shame because 'it's so functional'

el is an ex-larry

[shiorimakibawrites]

Part 2 (Cat Man Do)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem! Reader Seconding Pairings: Foggy Nelson x Marci Stahl, implied Karen Page x Frank Castle Word Count: 11,000 Summary: It is a day of discovery for you. Warning(s): Swearing, sexual fantasies, referenced masturbation, kissing, dirty talk, referenced marking/hickies, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected P in V sex, referenced oral sex (male receiving), referenced animal abuse (not graphic) Series Masterlist Matt Murdock/Daredevil Masterlist General Masterlist Tag List: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @indestructeible, @what-i-call-men, @reblog-reblog666, @flynnethenerd, @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment, @yarrystyleeza, @bellaxgiornata, @reluctanthalfwayofoptimism, @bluerobin35 Also posted on AO3

Cat Man Do

Part 2 of 2

“And that’s the last of it,” you said to yourself as you put the last of the dishes into the drying rack. While you dried off your hands, you did a quick survey of your handiwork. The apartment was now back to its normal state of relative tidiness. The only remaining mess was the nest of blankets that Trouble had burrowed himself into and presumably napping it.

It had been tempting to peek. Very tempting. But you knew yourself. If you did that, you wouldn’t be able to resist petting him. Then you would probably give into the urge to see if he liked any of the cat toys you still had . . . then boom, the housework would be completely forgotten.

It wasn’t that you hated housework. It was just boring. Which made any number of procrastinating distractions rather appealing. Listening to music or podcast on your phone usually helped. Singing along with your favorite songs or learned something interesting made it feel like the dull but necessary work wasn’t taking so long. Thought you had to avoid certain ones while doing housework because sometimes they got you arguing with the people in the magic box instead of doing what you were supposed to. Like ironing your work clothes . . .

Other days, your brain decided to turn whatever was coming out of your phone into white noise and simply daydreamed. Today was one of those days. Fortunate for getting your work done, those daydreams stayed innocent. Imaging Matt having his way with you on your kitchen table, for example, would have been rather distracting. Case in point, even just the thought of that fantasy was making you squirm.

Keeping them sweet didn’t prevent Matt from taking the staring role. Far from it. Which was embarrassing for all different reasons. It was one thing to have sexual fantasies about an attractive man. Picturing that same man saying three little words with that deeply fond smile on his face had different implications.

Implications that made you feel stupid. You knew falling in love with your boss was a bad idea. The king of bad ideas. Mousy secretary falls in love with her incredibly attractive boss is the premise for a romance novel, not a recipe for true love forever. You were going to get your heart broken. Probably not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday.

You weren’t looking forward to it. Watching women hit on him already felt like a knife to your heart. Watching while he meet someone else and fall in love with them was going to be agony. Assuming you stayed around to watch. Which you likely wouldn’t do. You weren’t that much of masochist.

The worst part was that you wanted Matt to find his special someone. The person who would make him laugh and help him find joy. Someone who would comfort him when he was sad, take care of him when he was sick. For him to know that someone loved him, that they wanted to stay forever . . . you wanted that for him.

Maybe it was selfish but you just wished that special someone was you.

You knew it was unlikely. Matt had never stated an interest in you beyond friendship. Yes, he flirted. But Matt flirted with everyone. And yes, you had gone on all those outings with him. But those were friend outings, not dates. And yes, on those occasions when Matt asked him to guide him, it seemed like he was reluctant to let go of your arm afterward. Or how he kept holding your hands after they had gotten warmed up after forgetting your gloves last week, only dropping them when the office phone rang . . .

But he never said anything. Sometimes it seem liked he might. Moments where he said he had something to tell you, something that he wanted to ask, that seem like maybe . . . then nothing. Either the universe intervene – phone calls, fire alarm, sudden loud argument between two food truck drivers – or it wouldn’t be exactly what you were hoping for. Like asking if you would be his plus-one at some fancy party being thrown by Columbia Law alum next weekend. That wasn’t a date. It was just practical since he and Foggy had only gotten their invitations to said party this week . . . It was a very deliberate snub considering Marci had received hers month ago . . .

Granted, you hadn’t said anything to him either. In part because you wanted to avoid ruining what you already had. You genuinely liked being Matt’s friend. You valued that relationship and didn’t want to lose it. Or make things incredibly awkward. But big part of it was simply that you weren’t ready to hear ‘I’m flattered but . . .’

You’d probably never be ready. Because no matter how kindly someone tries to let you down, rejection always stung . . .

“Enough moping,” you told yourself sternly. You had a mystery to explore.

But first you were going to check on Trouble. He had been rather quiet. Too quiet. He might simply be asleep but your experience said that sometimes the too quiet cat was a cat getting into mischief. You walked over to the blanket cocoon and peeled back the layers until you found the lithe, brown form. A pair of yellow-green eyes blinked sleepily at you. You couldn’t resist. There were few things cuter than a drowsy cat. You reached over and started lightly scratching behind the ears. Trouble purred and bumped his head more firmly into your hands.

“Hey there, sleepy kitty,” you said. “Enjoy your nap?”

He made one of those trilling noises which only made your smile grow. And encouraged you to keep petting him. Which wasn’t a hardship.

“Your coat is so soft, Trouble,” you said. “Feels like velvet.”

Like your new dress, the one you had let Marci and Karen talked you into buying for the fancy party. You hadn’t intended to buy anything when you accompanied them to the stops. You had fully intended to just wear one of the dresses you already owned. But then you saw it.

A pretty black dress made of velvet that looked like it was your size. Curious, you had checked. It was. Moreover, it was marked off enough to within your limited budget. Which made it very tempting. A temptation that Marci enthusiastically enabled. Come on, at least see how it fits . . .

It fit perfectly, hugging your curves just right. Offered tantalizing glimpses of skin without showing off more than you were comfortable with. You had felt beautiful wearing it. Which meant Marci and Karen didn’t have to push very hard to convince you to buy it. Karen sweetened the deal by reminding you that Matt loved velvet. And that maybe feeling so pretty would give you the confidence boost you needed to tell him how you felt.

Something that both Karen and Marci seemed very certain would be received well. You weren’t nearly so sure but you brought the dress.

In the name of making you feel as pretty and confident as possible, Karen and Marci decided you also needed new shoes and underwear. When you objected that you couldn’t afford to do that, Marci countered that she would pay. Which was why you were now the proud owner of a pair of heels that cost a frankly ridiculous amount of money. Because when Marci decided to treat someone, she didn’t believe in going cheap.

The underwear set had been more reasonably priced but still seemed like a lot for a bra and panties. Even if they were made of high quality silk and lace. But they had looked good on you too and Karen had asked you to imagine if everything went well and the night ended with your dress on Matt’s bedroom floor . . .

You didn’t know what had flustered you more. Your own imagination or that evil, knowing grin on Karen’s face or Marci supplying lewd details of Matt’s sexual prowess. Not from her own experience but she knew people who had slept with him. People whose stories she trusted to be accurate.

Karen insisted that the underwear had to be dark red. Saying with a mysterious smile that Matt would find it hot. Which just confused you. For obvious reasons, purely visual elements like color didn’t hold any appeal for Matt . . .

“Why?” you mused out loud. But since Karen wasn’t here to pester, your only answer was a questioning meow from Trouble. Which probably had more to do with you getting so lost in your head that you had stopped petting him than anything else.

“Sorry, Trouble,” you said, resuming the pets. “Got distracted. Trying to figure out why Karen thinks Matt would find me wearing red silk underwear sexy.”

Trouble made the strangest sound you had ever heard from a cat. Like he couldn’t decide which cat noise to make and kept switching tracks part-way through each one. If he had been human, you would have said he was sputtering.

It was such a funny reaction that you couldn’t help giggling.

Matt’s current form prevented him from blushing. Which he supposed he should be thankful for. His sputtering already had you giggling. He could only imagine your reaction to seeing his cheeks go what he had been told was a lovely shade of dusty pink.

What was Karen up to? Telling you something like that?!

The fact that it was true was immaterial. Now he would have fantasies about running his hands over your curves, feeling your petal soft skin encased in silk . . . and the idea of you wearing Daredevil red immensely pleased that possessive streak that ran deep inside him . . .

But he didn’t need help coming up with impure thoughts about you. He already spent far too much time touching himself while imaging you spread out on his bed, exploring every inch with his hands and mouth, the sounds of your pleasure filling his ears . . . Fantasies that were going to be a lot more vivid now that he knew exactly what those noises sounded like and just how sweet your arousal tasted . . . even if tasting it from the air was a poor substitute for tasting it directly from the source . . .

Matt shook himself. He shouldn’t be thinking about that.

You turned your attention toward your pack and the mystery inside it. You moved the pack over to the couch and started pulling out the suit.

The red color was brighter than you expected, dark scarlet instead of the maroon it had looked under the dim light of your flashlight. The webbing between panels wasn’t black either. It was a deep, deep red that almost black. Like those really good cherries that you loved but could never remember what they were called. It was was just as heavy as you remembered, with the heft that reminded you of an old friend’s bulletproof vest. But more flexible . . . actually, looking at all of the webbing interwoven into it, you’d guess a lot more.

“It seems Daredevil is a bendy vigilante,” you mused outloud. “Probably not as bendy as Spider-Man but that guy is made out of silly-putty. Or at least his spine is.”

The suit was a little scuffed but otherwise looked fine. No holes, rips, or tears that you could find. No visible blood . . . you sniffed. You couldn’t smell any blood either. Just sweat. Something clean that you recognized as saddle soap. The fainter odor of plain soap along with something very familiar.

“Huh,” you said, eyeing the suit. “Daredevil and Matt wear the same cologne. Small world.”

Next, you checked the pouches on the belt. There weren’t that many. They contained a prepaid cell phone that you set aside to look at more closely later, zip ties, fold-up cash, and business cards. Curious, you shuffled through the cards. Nelson & Murdock, Alias Investigations, Chikara Dojo, FEAST, Helping Hands . . . . Each business or charity was separated by paper clips or rubber bands.

“Curious,” you murmured, wondering why . . . maybe he just didn’t want to spend time shuffling through them looking for a particular one? Or didn’t think he would always have time to do that? Maybe he had folded up the cash for the same reason. As long as he remembered how each card was bundled or bill folded, he could get out the right one without looking at them.

You turned your attention to the phone but was immediately stymied. The phone refused to turn on. It didn’t look broken. Which probably meant that it needed to be charged. Guess you weren’t the only one who forgot to put their phone on the charger. Or maybe Daredevil used a phone while fighting crime a lot more than anyone would expect. You grumbled as you got off the couch. You weren’t sure if your charger would work with this phone. Thankfully it did but the batteries were practically dead. Investigating the phone would have to wait.

In the meantime, you inspected the helmet. It was the same color as the suit but not the same materials, something more rigid. But it seemed to be in good shape. You couldn’t see or feel any cracks. You traced the edge of the characteristic horns and mask. You were unable to resist to urge to put the helmet on your own head. It probably looked ridiculous. There was nothing superhero about your oversized tee shirt featuring a gray cat calling itself ‘purr-fect’ and sweat pants. But you were curious. What did the world look like to the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen?

The answer was very red. You had expected a reddish tint from the color of the lenses. But it was more intense than you expected. It was also less . . . clear than you would have thought. The lenses weren’t opaque – you could see through them. But tinted dark like a pair of sunglasses.

“Odd,” you said, wondering why Daredevil had what was effectively sunglasses built into his helmet. It seemed peculiar. Especially for a vigilante that operated almost exclusively at night. And had a known habit of cutting lights to places before going in. The consensus in the hero forums was that Daredevil must be able to see in the dark. But, you frowned, even the best night vision still needed some light . . . even nocturnal animals couldn’t see in total darkness . . .

“If he has superhuman night vision,” you thought outloud, pulling off the helmet. “Maybe his eyes are really light sensitive?”

Trouble meowed loudly. It sounded almost like a no.

“Vetoing that theory, Trouble?” You asked, glancing over at him. He had crawled out of the blanket cocoon and was doing the big stretch. Which, by the rules of cat companions everywhere, you had to comment on. “Ohhh, big stretch!”

He meowed again. You laughed. It was almost like he was answering you.

You smiled and shook your head. Despite Trouble’s rejection, the theory was plausible. Someone whose eyes worked very well at low light could very well be someone that found bright light painful. And while he worked at night, New York City wasn’t all that dark after sundown. Nowhere near as dark as it was out in the forest.

Granted, Hell’s Kitchen was darker at night than most of the city. Streets lights and other sources of lighting that had gotten damaged in the Incident still hadn’t been repaired or replaced. Somehow there was never enough money in the budget. At least not for something like street lights. Some of the landlords were similarly disinclined. Others had died during the aforementioned alien invasion and similar attacks on the city. And many of those estates were a byzantine nightmare of disputed wills, shell companies, and other assorted legal headaches.

You knew this because Nelson & Murdock was one of the many laws firms attempting untangle this particular Gordian knot. The progress had been slow and uneven. Matt and Foggy had muttered many unkind words about property law, estate law, the lawyers involved in creating this mess, and especially the lawyers trying to keep the knot intact because the mess benefited their clients . . . which yes, was their job. But they didn’t have be so smug about it . . .

The color of the lenses was another question mark. Why red? Then you remembered something you had read . . . red lenses or red lights helped people kept their eyes dark adapted or helped them adjust to low-light conditions quicker. Of course that little nugget had been discovered during a romp through Wikipedia Wonderland. So massive grain of salt . . .

Of course, it could simply be aesthetics. It fit with the Devil theme. You imagined that seeing the sudden glint of those red lenses from out of the shadows would be quite intimidating.

“Or maybe he just likes red,” you muttered to yourself, putting the helmet down on the coffee table.

You drummed your fingers against your thigh, staring at the suit . . . why? Why would Daredevil abandon his suit and (possibly) walk into the night wearing (possibly) only whatever was under the suit?

“Which couldn’t be much,” you mused, your face flushing at the thought. Most images of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen were either low-quality, out-of-focus, or too shadowy to make out much. But from what you could tell, the suit was close-fitting. No much room for anything but him in there. Or nothing at all. Which was an idea that made your flush worse.

Matt might have been the leading man in your fantasies but he wasn’t the only one to appear. You had entertained thoughts about Daredevil. Very dirty thoughts. Which was really saying something considering some of the ones involving Matt . . . but there was just something about the vigilante that could made you feel feral.

You had the feeling that those fantasies were about to get more vivid. Because now, you knew what the suit looked like up close. What it felt like under your hands. Granted what it felt like without Daredevil actually in it. Which was, if you were being perfectly honest, a little disappointing. You might be carrying the torch for Matt but that didn’t stop other men from being attractive. Or your mind from idly (and somewhat guiltily) wondering if Daredevil’s suit struggled to contain his muscles the same way Matt’s suits struggled to contain his . . .

Something touched your thigh. You jumped before realizing it was just Trouble putting one of his paws on your leg. Probably looking for attention. You reached down to start petting him, scratching him behind the ears. Which he seemed to enjoy, purring as he crawled onto your lap. You were easily tempted away from your mystery.

“You’re a total lap cat, aren’t you?” you asked. Your only answer was louder purring.

You were starting to feel almost sleepy, sitting here with a purring cat in your lap. Especially on a day like this, gray and unusually quiet for New York. Which made the notification chime from your phone inordinately loud. Checking it required disturbing Trouble. Which he made very clear that he didn’t like.

“I know, I know, you were comfortable,” you said, checking the notifications. Mostly text messages from friends and family making sure you were okay. You had just sent off a couple of replies when you caught something out of the corner of your eye.

Looking away from your phone, you peered at the suit. What . . . oh. There was something inside the crumpled suit, a bit of fabric peeking out. Curious, you sat down your phone and touched it. Silk. You gave it a gentle tug and the cloth came out.

Immediately, you felt your face flush again. It was underwear. Specifically a pair of men’s black boxers. Black silk boxers. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen wore black silk boxers. For reasons you couldn’t really explain, this made you giggle.

The universe was a peculiar place. One where a blind defense attorney and a vigilante had interesting things in common. They both liked silk. They wear the same cologne. And estimating from the suit, Daredevil and Matt were the same height and had a similar build.

And apparently knew a lot of the same people. Matt carried a lot of the same business cards, personally knew the owners. Though you were a little unclear on how he had met some of them. Jessica Jones, you could see. She lived and worked in Hell’s Kitchen and her zero-tolerance policy for assholes often got her trouble with the cops. But the others were less clear . . . It didn’t help that when you had asked, the story you had gotten had been rather vague.

It wasn’t the only story where Matt, Foggy, and Karen got evasive. Another sign that there were secrets in the office of Nelson & Murdock. And not the normal client-confidentiality type secrets . . .

Glancing back at the suit, you noticed something else. Something you couldn’t believe you had missed. It didn’t look like it had been stripped off. None of the zippers or other fasteners were undone. You frowned, looking closely at it again. How could he have gotten it off without undoing any of the fasteners?

All thoughts of Daredevil were driven out of your head when Trouble let out a pained yowl. You snapped your head up to see him fall off the couch, writhing and twisting like he was having a seizure. You rushed toward him but then something weird happened. Trouble began to grow and swell, becoming bigger and bigger . . . body twisting and jerking the entire time . . . until what was laying on your floor wasn’t a cat. It was a man.

A very familiar man. Matt Murdock lay there, his body still twitching and spasming. His chest heaved and his forehead was beaded with sweat.

You couldn’t believe your own eyes. Had that really just happened? You pinched yourself. It hurt. So not a dream. You reached out and touched Matt’s shoulder. It was solid and warm under your hand. The muscles still twitching from . . . whatever that was. But gradually the twitching stopped and the tension in Matt’s jaw eased.

“Sorry,” he said. His voice was strained. “Didn’t want you to find out this way.”

Find out what? That he turned into a cat? Or . . . you looked at the suit. Then it clicked. All of the pieces suddenly made sense. Matt was Daredevil. The suit didn’t look like it had been stripped off because it hadn’t. The person wearing it had merely gotten much, much smaller.

“You’re Daredevil?” you asked, just to be sure.

“Yes.”

“And you turn into a cat?” you asked. You hoped not. He was a very cute cat but that transformation had looked like hideously painful.

His lips twitched into something like a smile. “Not usually. This was the first time.”

“Okay,” you said. You took a deep breath. Than another. Your boss was Daredevil. He had been turned into a cat. You had taken him to your apartment. He might have observed you having a dirty dream about him. This was fine. You were fine. Everything was fine.

Another breath. “Expected development?”

“No. Magic spell. I think.”

“Magic spell?” you repeated. “Like actual magic? You know, nevermind. Of course, magic is real. Why the hell not? We were invaded by aliens. There is a Norse God living uptown. Why wouldn’t magic be real?!”

You were babbling. But you couldn’t help it. It didn’t help that Matt was really smiling now. With the dimple and everything. Which had always left you flustered. Especially when combined with that fond look. Even if it almost immediately faded to something sober and tentative.

“Let me sit up and I’ll explain everything.”

“Okay,” you said. But as he started to push himself into a sitting position, you noticed something. Something that left you even more flustered. Matt was naked. Completely naked. Not a single stitch on him. You could see his . . . everything. Feeling your cheeks burn, you jerked back and whirled around to face the wall.

“Sweetheart?”

You felt your heart beat faster at the pet name. He had never called you that before. At work, he was entirely professional. And when you were at Josie’s or an outing, he just called you by your name.

“Clothes,” you said, feeling little frantic. You needed answers – to so many things – but you couldn’t have that conversation with him while he was naked. You would get . . . distracted. But none of your clothes would fit him . . . wait, the boxers! Where . . . you looked . . . there!

You scurried forward and snatched the boxers off the floor. Keeping your eyes firmly on his face, you went and dropped the underwear into what you hoped was his lap. “Your boxers. This isn’t a naked conversation.”

A soft huff of laughter. “No, it isn’t. Thank you, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart again? It wasn’t a slip of the tongue? Your cheeks couldn’t get any warmer but they sure tried.

You turned away again to give him some privacy while he dressed. For a given value of dressed. Considering it was only underwear. You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt and tried not to think about that. Or his . . . everything. You had limited success.

“I’m decent. You can look now.”

‘That’s debatable,’ you thought after you turned to face him. Yes, everything that needed covering was now covered. But the boxers fit him snugly enough that very little was left to the imagination. Not that you really needed your imagination anymore . . . . And that wasn’t even taking into account the rest of him.

You had known he had muscles. You just hadn’t realized he had quite so many muscles . . .

Matt realized that you had gotten distracted when it took a couple of times calling your name to get your attention. He was well aware that you were attracted to him but it was still gratifying to his ego to experience your body’s reaction to him. And the way the temperature and blood shifted to your face when you realized that you had been caught staring was rather cute.

But he soon sobered, remembering what you had just discovered. What he needed to explained. “Do you remember how I lost my eyesight?”

“I remember,” you said.

“Those chemicals didn’t just blind me,” he said. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He squared his shoulders, bracing himself for your inevitable reaction. Then he explained how his remaining senses had been enhanced to a superhuman degree. How he could hear everything happening around him, for several blocks. Further if he was focusing on someone he was familiar with. How he could very likely find Foggy, Karen, or you anywhere in this city if he needed to.

That his other senses were just as keen. Did his best to describe his world on fire. The others had poked fun of his metaphor but it was the best one he had found. He felt the usual frustration at not having the right words, the perfect words, to describe how he experienced the world. Words that help someone else understand his world without the misconceptions.

But such words didn’t seem to exist. He had to make do with the ones he had.

He took another deep breath, continuing in a very firm voice. “My senses do not change the fact that I cannot see. There are things my senses cannot tell me. Like what color anything is. Times when my world on fire isn’t as reliable as I would like such as when I’m tired or ill. My cane and other adaptive equipment aren’t props. I’m not pretending to be blind. I am blind.”

“Someone actually said that to you?” you said, sounding shocked. It was the first time you had spoken when he had started talking.

“Yes,” he said, trying not to remember how Foggy had spit out those words. Hardly the most painful thing that had been said that awful night . . . but the clear disgust in his voice had stayed with Matt for a long time . . .

“Who?” you demanded, your heartbeat sharply rising. He heard the shift of bone and muscle as your hands curled into fists. It was sweet that your first reaction was defend him. If it was completely unnecessary.

“Doesn’t matter,” Matt said, waving it off. “They didn’t really understand the explanation at first. Neither of us were in the right head space for the conversation. We’ve talked more since then and now they get it. And they apologized for that particular misunderstanding.”

You sighed.

You weren’t entirely surprised. Matt tended to be forgiving. Along with a rather concerning habit of ignoring or downplaying things when he was the one being treated poorly . . . And, as you silently reminded yourself, you didn’t know the whole story. That wouldn’t make what they said okay but it might make it understandable . . .

Regardless the decision to forgive or not to forgive was ultimately Matt’s, not yours. And he had obviously chosen to forgive whoever it was. Best to let it go and change the subject.

“Do you want some coffee?” you asked. “Or something else to drink?”

That bit of gravel in his voice might do all sorts of tingly stuff to your insides but he had been talking for a while. His mouth must be getting dry.

“As long you are making it anyway, coffee would be great,” Matt said.

“Coming right up,” you said and went into the kitchen. As you set up the coffee to brew, you did your best to process anything you had just learned.

Matt was Daredevil. It explained a lot. Foggy and Karen certainly knew. It was the only explanation for why they went along with Matt’s very obvious lies about how he had been injured. And why they didn’t seem . . . well, you couldn’t say that there was no concern. You had seen the pinched look of Foggy’s face when Matt was moving like it hurt him to breath. The worried, accessing look Karen gave particularly colorful bruises.

And yet, they had accepted every single one of his excuses from the plausible to the silly without question. Told you there was nothing to worry about when you expressed concern about Matt’s well-being. Even through sometimes neither looked like they really believed that . . .

Now you realized that they were concerned. It was just a different kind of concerned. Because they weren’t wondering how Matt kept getting hurt. They weren’t racking their brains trying to figure out who was hurting him or if all those worrying signs were related to some kind of health problem. Like maybe he was having seizures or something like that but was refusing to see the doctor . . .

But every theory you came up with kept hitting the wall for not being able to explain why Foggy and Karen didn’t seem to share your concerns. Why they clearly loved Matt but ignored that something troubling was obviously going on with him. . . . It hadn’t made any sense.

Now it did. Matt was Daredevil. They knew he was Daredevil. And knew his injuries were from fighting crime.

Matt had super senses. Which meant, you realized with a certain amount of horror, he had absolutely heard you moaning his name while touching yourself this morning. You buried your face in your hands with a soft groan. There was no hiding your non-platonic feelings anymore. The cat was out of the bag. Pun fully intended.

“What’s wrong?”

You jumped. You weren’t expecting his voice to be so close. He wasn’t crowding you or anything. His position by the edge of the counter that divided the kitchen from the living room was a couple feet away from where you were standing in front of the coffee pot. But you hadn’t heard him moving around. Apparently he didn’t need to be cat shaped to walk silently through walls.

“Sorry,” he said, though the little twitch of his lips belied that apology. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Somehow,” you said, willing your heart to slow back down. “I doubt that.”

“Do you?”

“I saw those lips twitch,” you pointed out. “You think making me jump is funny.”

“That is quite the accusation,” he said with mock seriousness. “Do you have any evidence?”

Using his courtroom voice was cheating. Especially when he was only wearing boxers. Pure cheating. You pulled out your stubborn streak, standing with your fists on your hips. “I know what I saw. I will not be fooled by your twisty-turny lawyer tricks into saying otherwise, Mr. Murdock.”

“That sounds like a challenge, sweetheart.”

The pet name said with that almost purring voice sent tingles down your spine. And brought renewed heat between your legs. Rather annoyingly the cocky smirk on his face did nothing to diminish that ardor. Maybe if he had been wearing more than boxers . . . or if he didn’t look so good half-naked . . .

A soft cough brought you back to the present. You felt your cheeks get warm again, realizing that you had been so busy staring at his abs that you hadn’t noticed him talking.

“Distracted?” he asked, a teasing grin spread wide across his face.

“No,” you said quickly, feeling the warmth in your cheeks intensify.

He hummed, tilting his head slightly to one side. “Lie.”

“What?”

“Oh, did I forget to mention that I can tell when someone is lying?” He said, feigning innocence. It wasn’t a very convincing performance. He was far too amused.

“No, that detail hadn’t come up yet,” you said. “How?”

“Mostly your heartbeat. It changes when someone is lying.”

Suddenly, something you had observed at the office now made sense. Your job was more on the reception and secretarial side but sometimes you acted as their paralegal. When acting in that role, you had seen Foggy subtly nudge Matt who would give a little shake or nod of his head. You hadn’t know what to make of it at the time. Now you realized that Foggy was checking to see if their client or whoever else they were interviewing was telling the truth.

When you asked about your theory, Matt was quick to confirmed it. A moment later, the coffee finished brewing. You pulled down the two mugs, then doctored them to each of your coffee preferences.

“You seem to be taking this rather well,” he remarked, after taking a sip of his coffee.

You shrugged. “It’s not that surprising once I started thinking about it.”

“It’s not?”

“No.”

Matt chuckled. “What, you didn’t believe that I got that black eye tripping over a curb?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“Come on, I thought that one was very plausible.”

“Only for someone who doesn’t know you,” you said. “Or your friends pretending for the sake of your secret identity.”

He laughed. “Fair enough.”

You drank more of your coffee, enjoying the comfortable quiet. To avoid getting distracted by his half-naked body again, you kept your eyes on his face. Which probably wasn’t the best plan. Matt’s handsome face was a distraction in its own right. Especially when he wasn’t wearing his dark glasses. It wasn’t the first time you had seen him without them but the sight always pleased you. It meant Matt trusted you. Not with all of his secrets, obviously, but enough that he didn’t feel the need to hide himself.

Along with those lovely hazel eyes, there were further delights. The generous mouth, good cheekbones and that strong jaw dusted with facial hair. Heavily dusted today. He hadn’t shaved lately. So he had the very start of a beard. You had never seen Matt with a beard. You bet that he would look good with one . . .

“Penny for your thoughts?” Matt said, interrupting your attempts to imagine him with a beard.

“Nothing important,” you said. “Just noticed you hadn’t shave lately and was idly wondering if you were growing a beard.”

Matt made a thoughtful humming sound. “It is tempting this time of year but they get so itchy during the summer.”

“That sounds like the voice of experience,” you said.

“It is,” he said. “Wore one for a couple years during college. Shaved it off just after starting L1.”

“Any particular reason why?” you asked, making a mental note to ask Foggy if he had any pictures of bearded Matt. You needed to see them. For science. Or something.

“An especially muggy day in August when the air conditioners decided to stop working. And the girl I was seeing at the time liked me clean-shaven. Said my beard was too rough when I kissed her.”

A salacious grin spread across his face. “Among other activities.”

“Did she?” you said, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. Because your mind had immediately become consumed with imagining the delicious contrast between prickly beard on your thigh while his soft lips . . . warmth flooded your cheeks.

You saw Matt’s nostrils flare. Then the tip of his tongue slipped out to run across his lips. He made a soft moan that went straight to your cunt. It was impossible not to get worked up. Not with those images in your head. Not with that sound. You were equally unable to stop your breath from hitching as he stepped closer. And closer, stopping just shy of touching you.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked. His voice had always done things to you but that huskier timber really made you shudder. There was only one answer you could give.

“Yes.”

And he was kissing you. Gentle at first, a delicate press of the lips with your head cradled in his hands. But it didn’t remain that way for long. Not after all those months of pent-up desire. Now that you didn’t have to resist kissing him, you all but devoured his mouth.

Matt matched your eagerness, seemingly just hungry for your mouth as you were his. Even the need for air barely kept your lips apart. The entire world might as well have disappeared. You were aware of nothing else. Only that mouth kissing you and greedily swallowing every moan you made. Only those large, warm hands sliding down your body, skimming the sides of your breasts until coming to rest on your hips. Only his body against yours. The edge of the counter digging into your back barely even registered.

At least to you. Matt made some grumpy-sounding noise, then his hands were gripping your hips and lifting you up onto the counter. Your startled yelp turned into a moan when he slot himself between your legs. Any lingering doubts you had about him finding you physically attractive were dispelled at the feeling of his growing erection rubbing against your core. You couldn’t contain a second louder, stuttered moan. Even with too many clothes in the way, it felt incredible . . .

“If you want me to stop,” he rumbled, nuzzling your neck. “Tell me to stop. Tell me no.”

“Don’t stop,” you said, your voice dangerously close to begging. But you didn’t care. You had wanted this for so long. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t, sweetheart. Not unless you want me to.” he said, then one hand abandoned its place on your hip to tug lightly at your shirt. “May I?”

“Yes, yes,” you said, rising your arms to help Matt pull off your shirt. Despite the heater chugging away, your skin still immediately pebbled. Your nipples had already tightened into peaks. You kissed him again as your shirt was tossed . . . somewhere. You weren’t paying attention to your shirt. All of your attention was Matt and the hungry, almost feral look on his face.

Matt ran his hands over your body, exploring every inch of bare skin from the tips of your fingers to the waistband of your sweatpants. So soft, even softer than he had dreamed. Keeping his hands to himself the next time you were at work was going to take some serious self-discipline. He blazed a trail of kisses down your neck until he found a spot that had you shuddering.

There, he applied little nips and lathed at the skin until he was satisfied there would be a mark. One that by happy coincidence should peek out from behind the collar of your work blouses. Good. That should let any would-be suitors know that you were taken. It was selfish but he didn’t want share this delightfully soft skin with anyone.

Or how responsive you were. He greedily took in all your reactions. The dancing rhythm of your heart. The breathy moans as his mouth continued its downward journey. The gasps when he started lapping at one peaked nipple while squeezing the other breast in his hand. The way you cried out his name when he latched onto that nipple and sucked. The way you arched your back, begging for more. How your nails bit into his shoulder when he obliged, swirling his tongue around the hardened nipple. The whines when he removed his mouth from that breast . . . and how it turned into a wordless cry when he gave the other breast the same attention.

Best of all, the scent of your arousal soaking through your panties. All because of him. You smelled just as sweet as you had been this morning. Only this time he wasn’t a cat. Soon, he would be on his knees. Soon, his face would be buried in that wonderfully drenched pussy . . .

Soon . . .

You were burning. A fire that Matt had lit, then steadily built with his hands and mouth until you burned with need. An urgency that the man himself didn’t seem to feel. He moved at a speed that could be best described as languid.

“M-matt,” you whined.

“Yes?” he asked, lifting his head from your breast. Seeing his lust-darkened eyes and kiss-swollen lips made the growing ache in your cunt worse. “What does my sweet girl need?”

My sweet girl . . . . Your cunt clenched desperately around nothing. “Need you.”

“Gotta be more specific than that,” he said. “Tell me what you want.”

You were half naked on your kitchen counter and fully ready to have sex with this man and yet somehow that question still managed to fluster you. “Maattt.”

“I’m not a mind reader, sweetheart. You have to tell me what you want,” he said, sounding almost conversational. But his voice was too husky, his eyes too hungry, for that. The way his thumbs rubbed the skin just about the waistband of your sweatbands was another dead giveaway.

Your mouth opened, then closed.

“No need to be shy, sweet girl,” he continued, pausing to give another little nip to the top of your right breast. A spot that you hadn’t realized that so sensitive until he started lavishing it with attention. “No one but me will hear you.”

Biting your bottom lip, you considered that. He was right. It was just you and him. And you trusted him . . . Maybe you should start with something simple?

“My pants and underwear,” you said, managing to keep your voice steady. “I want them off.”

The smirk he flashed you was all kinds of wicked. “As you wish.”

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants and started tugging it down. Along with your panties. In a sharp contrast to his earlier leisurely pace, he quickly yanked down the clothes and tossed them aside. Like with your shirt, you found yourself too distracted to notice or care where your clothes went.

Matt gripped your knees and spread your legs wide. He then sank down to his knees, shifting forward until he was tantalizingly close to where you desperately wanted him. The sight once again had your cunt clenching around nothing. A deep rumble, almost like a growl, erupted from him. It matched the feral expression spreading across his face.

“Tell me what you need,” he demanded, his voice a growl full of gravel. You shuddered. You had never heard him speak like that. But it worked you up just as much as his courtroom voice. His hands tightened on your thighs. “My fingers?”

He lifted one hand away from your leg, then ran a single thick finger through your folds. You gasped when that finger brushed over your clit, then groaned with disappointment when that fleeting touch was all you got. Then felt your mouth go dry when he raised the finger to his mouth and licked off your slick. Especially when Matt let out a low moan, briefly closing his eyes in clear pleasure.

“Or my mouth,” Matt continued. You gasped when he leaned forward and gave the entire length of your cunt a single lick. You tried to lift your hips but Matt’s hands clamped down on your thighs and pinned you down to the counter.

“Matt!” you pleaded but the grip on your legs remained firm.

“Tell me,” He said, then blow a puff of air against your desperate cunt. He nuzzled your inner thigh, his rough stubble sending sparks down your spine. “What does this beautiful pussy want?”

“Maatt.”

“Tell me, sweet girl.” He kissed your inner thigh. Then another kiss. It rapidly became clear that your desperate cunt wasn’t going to get the attention it wanted unless you said the words.

“Matt!”

“Tell me.”

“Your mouth,” you begged. “Please, I need – fuck!”

Matt did another long, slow lick up your entire slit. After a teasing swipe across your clit, he turned his attention to your soaked entrance. There he lapped with soft, little licks which were obscenely loud. Like he was messily eating an ice cream cone. One that he clearly enjoyed, making a low noise that sounded remarkably like purring. The vibration contributed to making your own, much louder moans. Instinctively you tried to squirm but his hands kept you right where he wanted you. You could feel that familiar pressure start to build.

He pulled away. No! You started to protest but was cut off by Matt lifting your legs and throwing them over his shoulders. Then his mouth was back on you, his tongue circling your entrance before slipping inside you. Your hands scrambled for something to hold onto as his tongue fucked into you again and again

That something ended up being Matt’s hair. But he didn’t seem to mind, rewarding every tug on the hair twisted tightly in your fingers with a loud groan. Then his tongue slipped out of you, switching its attention to your clit. You cried out. He altered between teasing licks and stronger lapping as you chanted his name.

Matt wrapped his lips around your little bud and sucked. You almost screamed. Your legs began to tremble as you started hurling toward your peak. Then he thrust two thick fingers inside you. Your thighs squeezed his face between them. Close, you were so close . . . then his fingers curled. You fell over the edge calling out his name.

Your cunt clenched tightly around his fingers. Fingers that continued to work you through your orgasm. His mouth remained latched onto your clit, sending wave after wave of white-hot pleasure. Only you started to whimper from oversensitivity did he lift away from your clit. He withdrew his fingers, replacing them with his mouth. You let out warbling moan as he noisily lapped at your entrance.

By the time he pulled away, you were a limp puddle on your own kitchen counter. Despite your recent orgasm, your cunt clenched again. Because Matt looked thoroughly debauched. His hair mussed, eyes half-lidded, those pink lips swollen and glistening with your slick. While you watched, his tongue slide out and slowly licked it off.

Matt knew you were watching him. It was obvious from the way your heartbeat sped up. The hitch in your already heavy breathing. The fresh slick dripping out of your cunt, even more tempting now that he knew just how sweet you tasted. He settled for the slick clinging to his two fingers, putting them in his mouth and sucking them clean. Not as nearly as good as getting it directly from your cunt but the strangled groan you made watching him do it was its own reward.

Fingers now clean, he carefully lowered your legs from his shoulders and rose to his feet. Matt heard you shifting, pushing yourself back into an upright position. Then, your hands reached out and tugged his head down to kiss him. You moaned into his mouth at the taste of yourself.

But you didn’t stop there. Your hands leisurely made their way down his torso until you reached his boxers. Your fingers dipped under the waistband, then hesitated.

“May I?” you asked.

“Please,” he answered, eager to see what you would do.

Permission granted, you peeled his boxers down. His cock eagerly sprang free of its confines. As Matt finished pushing his boxers off, you felt a tinge of nerves. His cock hadn’t looked small during your brief glimpse earlier. But it had been flaccid then. Now that his cock was fully erect, you realized he was rather more . . . impressive than you had first thought. Or even imagined and Past You had been rather hopeful that he had a big dick . . .

“Sweetheart?”

The clear concern in Matt’s voice had your head snapping up. He was frowning at you, his brow furrowed with worry.

“You know you don’t have do anything, right?” he asked, his tone deadly serious. “If you want to stop right now, we will.”

“No,” you said, rapidly shaking your head. “I want to.”

He frowned, his head titling slightly to one side. Listening, you realized. Doing his human lie detector thing. “But?”

“I’m just a little nervous,” you said, tapping your fingers against your bare thigh.

“Why?” he asked.

You felt your cheeks warm. “It’s . . . um . . . you’re . . . ah . . . bigger. Than any . . . of my exes.”

“Is that so?” Matt looked distinctly smug. “I can be gentle. But if you’d like to wait –”

“No,” you interrupted. Because nerves wasn’t your only reaction to seeing his cock. Feeling suddenly bold, you reached over and wrapped your hand around his cock. And feel another tinge of nerves and anticipation at realizing that Matt wasn’t just long, he was thick. You started stroking him, slowly adjusting the firmness of your grip as you watched the reactions on his face. He moaned, his hands finding their way back to your hips.

You noted, with a certain amount of satisfaction, that he looked a lot less smug now.

Feeling more confident, you continued, “I don’t want to wait. I want this.” Your thumb swiped across the tip, smearing the weeping pre-cum. His hips jerked and out of his mouth came a beautiful groan that you immediately wanted him to make again. “Inside me.”

His hands tightened on your hips. That feral look was creeping back in. “I don’t – ah – have a condom.”

“Don’t want one,” you said. You knew it was a dumb thing to do. Reckless. But you were tired of all of the barriers that had been separating the two of you. The thought of another one just rubbed you the wrong way.

Your hand slide off of his cock. A faint whine escaped his throat. Tempting you to put your hand back. But it felt . . . coercive . . . to be giving him a handjob while asking him if he wanted a condom after you had just made it clear that you didn’t want one. Especially since you knew Matt had a people-pleasing streak.

“But I, um, have a box of condoms in my bedroom. If you’d rather wear one,” you offered, feeling renewed warmth in your cheeks. It had been an impulse purchase during one of those rare periods when you were both determined to tell him your feelings and confident it would go well . . . only to chicken out once you were actually in front of Matt.

“I don’t think many man would rather wear one,” he said. “As long as you were sure . . .”

“I am.”

“Okay,” he said. “When did you buy these condoms?”

There was a peculiar note in his voice. He sounded almost . . . jealous? But that couldn’t be right. Why would Matt be jealous?

“Last month,” you said. “Past Me, um, had a moment where she, ah, . . . was very confident that you’d agree to a date? And that sex might happen afterward?”

A smile spread across his face. “Past You would have been right. Past Matt would have agreed in a heartbeat.”

“What about Current Matt?” you asked, daring to hope.

“Current Matt agrees with Past Matt,” he said. “I would love to go on a date with you.”

Your heart gave a leap. “You would?!”

“Of course,” he said, utterly matter of fact. Like he was stating something obvious. The sky is blue. Grass is green. Matt Murdock wanted to go on a date with you. “I’ve wanted to ask you for a while.”

“Why didn’t you?” you asked.

“In part because you didn’t know about Daredevil,” he said. “Not telling a one-night stand is one thing. Not telling my girlfriend is something else.”

“Girlfriend?” you repeated.

“Yes,” he said. “If you would like to be.”

“I would like that,” you said, smiling.

“Good,” he said. Then he suddenly laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“All the ways I pictured asking you to be my girlfriend,” Matt said. “Standing in your kitchen naked wasn’t one of them.”

“Me neither.” You giggled. “We’ve done this all topsy-turvy.”

“We have,” he agreed. “Normally, I’d take you to dinner before burying my face in your sweet cunt.”

The reminder sent fresh arousal pooling between your legs. Despite that toe-curling orgasm, that particular body part was eager for more. A desire that only increased when his pink tongue darted out to slowly lick his lips. Then he made another soft moan. The same soft moans he had made while eating you out . . . your heart raced as something finally clicked together in your mind.

“Can you taste, um, . . ?” you trailed off, feeling your cheeks burn. You couldn’t say it.

“How wet that pussy is for me?” Matt said, his eyes darkening. “Yes. Having my mouth on you is better but from the air, the aroma of it, is still . . . intoxicating.”

Part of you was embarrassed. Especially when you thought about this morning, that Matt hadn’t just heard you touching yourself. But another, larger part of you was powerfully turned on. There was something very hot about knowing that just the taste of you, the smell of you, was putting that hungry look on his face.

You squirmed. Then something else occurred to you. “Technically you have taken me to dinner many times.”

“Very true,” Matt said, then chuckled. “Foggy has been saying that we’ve been dating for months.”

“Karen said the same thing,” you said. “Maybe they are right?”

“Definitely,” Matt said. “And we’ve been idiots.”

“Total idiots,” you agreed, then pulled him down for another kiss.

You could still faintly taste yourself in his mouth. Before you knew it, your hands were buried in his hair. Matt used his grip on your hips to pull you over to the counter’s edge. He pressed himself against you. Despite the intervening conversation, he was still hard. Feeling himself grind his cock against your cunt had felt good before. But now? Without any clothes in the way? It stoked that banked fire inside you into an inferno.

You wanted . . . no, you needed him. You didn’t care that you were in your kitchen. You needed that cock filling your achingly empty cut. You needed him to fuck you stupid.

“Matty,” you whimpered, breaking away from the kiss. “Need you.”

“What do you need, sweet girl?” He rumbled against your throat. “What does your pretty pussy need?”

This time you didn’t hesitate. “Needs your cock. Needs you to fuck me.”

He growled. You expected him to line himself up, to start fucking you right then and there. Instead he shifted his grip to your thighs and lifted you off the counter. Startled, your hands abandoned his hair in favor of his shoulders to steady yourself as he carried you out of the kitchen. Given the small size of your apartment, it didn’t take to figure out where he was taking you.

Sure enough, soon he was lowering you down onto your bed. He kissed you deeply as his knees encouraged your legs wider. Not that you needed much encouragement. He grinded against you, coating his cock in your slick. Sparks raced down your spine every time the head nudged your clit. It was so good. It was not enough. Your cunt clenched desperately around nothing.

“Stop teasing me,” you begged. “Please . . . fuck me.”

Which was apparently all he needed to hear. Matt took himself in hand, lining himself up with your entrance. Then, finally, he was inside you. You gasped, nails digging into his back. It was just the tip of him but the stretch was noticeable. Despite the clear hunger on his face, he didn’t move. Stayed right where he was while your cunt fluttered around him until you were ready for more. Slowly, he pressed in deeper and deeper. Until his cock was fully sheathed inside you.

You felt so good. So deliciously full. No one had ever filled you like this. Then Matt started to move, gently rocking his hips into you. Pleasure washed over you with each back and forth movement of his cock so deep inside you. You couldn’t stop moaning. You could feel yourself climbing back toward that precipice.

“Taking me so well,” Matt said, then groaned when your cunt clenched around him at the praise. “Ready for more, sweetheart?”

Your answer was another stuttered moan.

“Words, sweet girl. I need words.”

“More,” you managed to moan out. “More. Mo-”

You were cut off by sharp snap of his hips. His first real thrust into you. You cried out wordlessly. Cries that only got louder as the thrusts got faster and deeper. Instinctively, your hips began to move. You thought he couldn’t get any deeper. You were wrong. As soon as you matched his rhythm, you felt him sink just a little further inside you.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Matt grunted. “Just like that.”

Matt was always handsome. But there was something indescribably beautiful about how he looked now. The pull and flex of his muscles as he moved in and out of your body. Skin kissed with sweat. Hair, a fluffy chaotic mess. His face, for once, with no sign of worry or stress. Just pure pleasure. The grunts and moans spilling out of his mouth with each thrust only added to the beatific vision on top of you.

Your climax had been steadily building but now you were teetering on that edge. Just a little bit more . . .

Matt must have sensed it somehow because his next thrust was slower but impossibly deep and hard. You gasped, your back arching. He did it again. Your body began to shake, toes curling . . . Close, you were so close . . .!

“Matty,” you whimpered.

“Let it go, sweetheart,” Matt grunted. “Cum on my cock.”

Another impossibly deep thrust and you did.

Matt groaned as your cunt gripped his cock tightly as you cried out his name. He never stopped moving, drawing out your orgasm until you were a babbling, shaking mess underneath him.

Only then did he start chasing his release. He pumped into you hard and fast, his entire world narrowed down to you. The delightful pain of your nails raking up and down his back. Your heart pounding in his ears. The guttural noises you made as he fucked you. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, the wet squelch of your cunt as he moved in and out . . . you were so fucking wet. All for him. Because of him.

He wasn’t going to last much longer. Not with the way your cunt kept clamping down on his cock like a vice. Feeling his balls start to draw up, he tried to withdraw. He intended to release himself on your stomach. But you loudly protested, back arching and frantic hands grabbing his ass in a bid to him keep inside you.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you begged. “Please, don’t stop.”

“Gonna cum,” he managed to grit out.

Your hands only gripped his ass tighter. “Cum inside me. Wanna feel it.”

Truth. “Sweetheart.”

“Matty, please.”

That did it. He couldn’t resist your begging. With one last hard thrust, he buried his cock deep inside you and came.

Breathing hard, it was tempting to collapse on top on you. But he couldn’t. He was too heavy. He carefully pulled out of you and collapsed next to you. Still catching his breath, he gathered you in his arms, pressing your back against his chest. Perfect. Matt liked a good cuddle afterward. Didn’t understand what some men had against it. Your soft, naked body against his, smelling like sex and his pheromones? Yes, please.

For a moment, Matt attributed your little restless movements as simply getting comfortable. But quickly he realized that wasn’t entirely it. He reached between your legs. Felt you jolt when his fingers found your clit. Then moaned as he started rubbing gentle circles. You were already very sensitive. It didn’t take long for you to reach your peak again.

Matt buried his nose in the back of your neck. In a little while, he’d need to get up and get a washcloth. Clean up the mess he had made between your legs. But not right now. Right now, he was just going to enjoy having you in his arms.

The storm broke that night, after dumping almost ten feet of snow on the Big Apple. The powers that be had crews out clearing the streets and restoring downed power lines bright and early the next morning but it took several days to get the city fully up and running again.

You and Matt weren’t trapped in your apartment the entire time. Just a couple days. Despite the fact that neither of you were used to living with anyone, it was . . . comfortable. You cooked together in your tiny kitchen without much trouble. He did his share of the housework without prompting or complaint. You discovered during the brief power outage that, in addition to being a lie detector, Matt was a human furnace. Also that he was cuddler.

Once his phone was charged enough, Matt called Foggy and let him know that he wasn’t dead. He made Matt put him on speaker-phone so he could tell you both ‘I told you so.’ A sentiment echoed by Marci and Karen. Among many, many others.

The sex continued to be mind-blowing. And frequent. Because you both were having a hard time keeping your hands to yourselves. A shower became Matt fingering you, then fucking you against the wall. Watching a movie turned you kneeling between his legs, taking his cock into your mouth. Blissful Puddle was a very good look on him.

By time Daredevil slipped out of your window on the third night, your cunt had been given quite the workout and you had lost track of your orgasms.

Life went back to normal. Well, as normal as dating a vigilante could be. You worked. Matt saved people, in and out of the courtroom. You and Matt still went on your outgoings together, only with a lot more hand-holding and kissing. And often followed by enthusiastic sex in either your places or his. Matt quickly fulfilled his promise to introduce you to his silk sheets. You were very happy.

Tonight as you headed up to Matt’s apartment, you were filled with curiosity. Matt told you that he had a surprise. Then you reached his door, he pulled his usual trick of opening the door just as you raised your hand to knock. Just to make you jump.

“Having fun, Trouble?” you asked, entering the apartment.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he denied. But his eyes were too filled with mirth to make his protests believable.

“Lie.”

His lips twitched. But you were distracted away from whatever smartass remark that was about to come out of his mouth by movement behind Matt. You looked and to your surprise, it was a cat. A little brown-and-gray tabby standing in front of the slightly ajar bedroom door, its tail curled into a question mark.

“When did you get a cat?”

“I didn’t,” Matt said. “You did.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, assuming you want her.” He smiled. “I promise this one wouldn’t turn into a vigilante.”

“Certain of that?” You asked. The question was only partially teasing. The recent events had only cemented your desire for another feline companion. But, as much as you were happy with how things had worked out, starting to get attached to a cat only to discover that you couldn’t keep it wasn’t fun.

“Very. According to my magic expert, she’s just a cat.”

You filed away ‘magic expert’ as something to pester him about later. “Where did you find her?”

“Dumpster,” Matt answered, his expression turning grim. “Inside a knotted pillowcase.”

You stared at him in horrified disbelief. Not at Matt’s story. You believed him. But at the sheer cruelty. You knew people could be cruel. You weren’t that naive. But it still shocked you.

“Someone actually did that?”

“They did.” His voice reflected the same anger, the same horror, you were feeling. “Not the first time I’ve found something like that. Wouldn’t be the last.”

He took a deep breath. Visibly reigned in his temper, saving it for the streets or the heavy bag. “Normally I take the animals to an all-night shelter but they’re full right now. They’d still find somewhere for her with one of their fosters or something . . . but I found this one by the same dumpster where you found me. So I thought, maybe it was a sign.”

You smiled. The cat redistribution system at work. And that was that. The cat was officially yours.

You named her Blizzard.

END NOTES

Gordian knot is a legendary knot that became a metaphor for an intractable problem solved by bold stroke. Or in this particular case, one which Matt and Foggy dearly wish they could solve with one bold stroke.

That red light/red lenses thing comes from Wikipedia so treat it with the appropriate level of skepticism.

In Nelson vs Murdock, Foggy had every right to be hurt and angry with Matt. But even if it was deserved, doesn’t make what he said less painful to Matt. Personally, I think Foggy had hit that point of angry-hurt where you just want the other person to feel as badly as you do. And since Foggy is Matt’s best friend, he knows exactly which words will hurt the most. Moreover, I think he was too upset that tonight to really absorb Matt’s explanation about his senses. Hence some of his caustic comments during Season 2.

I have no proof that this incarnation of Matt has ever worn a beard. But shh, we’re having fun here.

It is my understanding that New York City during August is not only hot but miserably humid.

[allwaswell16]

All the One Direction fics I read and enjoyed in Sept 2024. You can listen to my podcast to hear me talk about each of these fics as well as an overview of what was posted on ao3 including the fics on this month’s fic roundup [ @1dmonthlyficroundup ] which you can find here! Please let the writers know if you liked the fics by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

Fanfictional Podcast #66 |  ko-fi | fic recs

- Louis / Harry -

🩵 Better is the End by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(M, 26k, Greek mythology) Louis stands at the entrance to the labyrinth, and knows that this is the end. No one escapes from the labyrinth. No one can defeat the monster inside and make it back out alive.

🩵 Sugar, Sugar by @parmahamlarrie

(E, 25k, sugar daddy Louis) Meeting your soulmate was the most joyous event of one’s life… or at least, it’s supposed to be. Harry, in all of his 25 year old wisdom, was suspicious of the role fate plays in everyone's lives. He'd rather focus his time dating older men he meets off of a sugar baby website.

🩵 Break (Up)? Coming Right Up! by The_Halcyonic_Lachesist / @chai-hat-tea

(M, 14k, breakup) Louis promised Harry that they would always be together, but when Harry's dreams get in the way, will Louis be able to keep his word?

🩵 Like A Miracle by crimsontheory / @ireallysawanangel

(M, 12k, established relationship) Louis thinks he finally knows what it feels like to be truly nervous now that he has one very important question to ask his boyfriend. Part 4 of Marcel series

🩵 touch me baby, put your lips on mine by @insightfulinsomniac

(E, 12k, pwp) the soft and sweet sex party fic with a dash of dom/sub dynamics and a LOT of public sex.

🩵 Smells Like TEAM Spirit by @persephoneflouwers

(NR, 10k, high school) Punk Louis and quarterback Harry have been secretly dating for years. Feeling overwhelmed by his commitments, Harry suggests a short break, fearing he can't give Louis enough time. As Louis reflects on his vulnerabilities, Harry struggles on the field without him.

🩵 This Ain't Red Wine by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28

(E, 9k, supernatural) the one where Human Louis accidentally finds himself at a Vampire only party which actually turns out to maybe not be the worst thing

🩵 Haunting Beauty by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou

(G, 6k, ghost Louis) It’s 1988. Harry has just finished his first year of teaching English and looks forward to a relaxed break. Louis is a poltergeist and has different plans for Harry’s summer.

🩵 Good-Old Fashioned Lover Boy by not_fitzwilliam / @not-fitzwilliam-darcy

(NR, 5k, omegaverse) When a miscalculated decision leads to an accidental courtship with the sweetest, most gentle alpha, Harry is torn between breaking the alpha's heart and telling the truth. 

🩵 we could be enough by @hellolovers13

(M, 5k, omegaverse) Louis never imagined anyone could love him for who he truly is. Then he meets Harry.

🩵 Only Angel by starryhaze / @starryhaze28

(E, 5k, pwp) the one where Louis is in Japan and stumbles upon a boy wearing angel wings

🩵 this cage was once just fine by amomentoflove / @daggerandrose

(T, 3k, uni) the one where Harry pines for Louis

🩵 A Tight Space by @haztobegood

(T, 2k, shapeshifter curse) Louis startles with a hand to his chest. “What the fuck was that?” “Oh, that’s the cat. I told you Liam found a stray a few days ago. That’s him.” “Are you sure that’s a cat?”

🩵 The Wilds - Timestamps by @jaerie

(E, 2k, omegaverse) The fact of the matter was that they were still bonded. And since they were just like any other bonded pair, Louis really wanted his knot. Part 3 of The Wilds

🩵 we could be the greatest team by 5sexualhomos / @hogwartzlou

(G, 1k, friends to lovers) Imagine your OTP accidentally and unofficially moving in together. Bonus points if they aren't dating at the beginning.

🩵 Singing Like a Bird 'Bout It Now by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(G, 1k, meet cute) Dr. Louis Tomlinson is worn to the bone, but only has a few patients left before the end of the day. One of those appointments takes quite a few twists and turns.

🩵 The Ball Guy by @homosociallyyours

(T, 1k, humor) Harry is an unpaid intern on his first film set, and he's pretty excited to see that his number one celebrity crush, Louis Tomlinson, will be a part of the movie. He's on the call sheet for the day, followed by a very odd addition: a ball guy?

🩵 Wordplay 2024 (series) by @kingsofeverything

Nest (G, 100 words) Harry wakes up first. Tight (NR, 100 words) Louis comes home early. Carry (NR, 100 words) Baby bump. Press (E, 100 words) Louis asks for it. Interference (G, 100 words) Bottom of the ninth.

- Rare Pairs -

🩵 circling the truth by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(T, 3k, Liam/Louis) Liam Payne has met his soulmate. He knows he has, because he woke up with his power this morning.

🩵 'Cause What I Want Came True by @lululawrence

(NR, 1k, Louis/Diego Luna) He’d known Diego was attractive, the few photos he had shared on the dating app had made that clear, but there was something about seeing him in person that made him feel… more.

[john-does-middle-finger]

Part 52 Live Finger Reaction

except i have patreon so i've listened to most of this already (y'all are NOT ready for the interlude) and also i forgot to start typing until several minutes in lol

SPOILERS FOR PART 52 BELOW

i'm so proud of arthur for catching on so quickly. side note---i love the moments in malevolent when arthur knows more about what's going on than john does despite john having their sight. just a neat flip when you look back on the earlier seasons

"why am i here??" me every day fr john

need me a woman who'll put maggots in me

that's right john open your third eye

thank you harlan for our monthly arthur whimpering podcast

OUGH I FORGOT HOW BEAUTIFUL THIS MOMENT WAS. THEM BOTH SEEING THE STARS. I BETTER SEE SO MUCH FUCKING FANART OF THIS.

okay john maybe making trains is hard...

okay hamilton

which one of you was the damn fool that shot him then mr. "i thought you were my purpose"

arthur in hell for homosexuality (too many hoes in New York)

oh there he goes falling again. all men are the same.

it was difficult to put the nightmare together

BUT IM ONLY HUMAN AFTER ALL!!!

oh arthur...you weren't there for that poll buddy...

i love how gentle john is with arthur sometimes

fr? ong? just like that? we're awake?

arthur...snookums...dont...

it's not a rock. it's a stone!

harlan thank you for your footstep sound effects and also more of arthur laughing

oh lilith...

quick headcanon that arthur can generally feel where john is and every now and then he'll lean against him for a moment of rest. anyway. pick up that toenail or whatever

go on arthur. that's a fragment of a god! you can change her! make her a new person! give her a new name! name it spike or some shit.

maybe it was on purpose?? considering...idk. likely not though unless lilith really is that good at acting

go on arthur collect your freaky fingers.

nuh uh john that was a great idea and an excellent vote

sopping wet cat antoine

damn arthur you really do doomed yaoi with every guy you meet. except the yaoi is minimal and the doom is maximal.

arthur...i love you for caring so much

"was i kind?" HARLAN WHEN I GET YOU.

"a friend's love can carry you through the worst of life's trials and tribulations" I KNOW WHO YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT, ARTHUR LESTER. side note can we get this man a middle name i want to use his full legal name for science purposes and also to yell at him

JOHN we just had an IMPORTANT and LOVING character death DO NOT EVEN BRING THIS UP.

SEE JOHN. EARNED IT. IF ONLY...well...y'know...it lasted...no rest for the wicked or whatnot.

THIS REVEAL GOT ME SO FUCKING BAD BECAUSE WHAT DO YOU MEAN "maybe the blackstone was the friends we made along the way" WAS RIGHT.

YORICK. OH, YORICK...yorick i'm so fucking sorry

hello arthur, apologies for the deception. kayne here, vsauce stone! idk man

watching the wager (song) get released after the full episode dropped on patreon was so fucking wild

^watching people say "i hope we see kayne again soon!" after knowing the ending of this episode. my pookies...my blorbos...my yoricks...

"oh lose the get up honey" bro fr said "you're not going out in that."

footstep sounds x 2

yorick you never did anything wrong and i forgive you for everything except there isn't even anything to forgive! YORICK MY MOST DEARLY BELOVED

fruit of my loins. buddy you are the fruit

i believe you yorick

LEAVE THAT LITTLE GUY ALONE

YORICK. MY SHAYLA. MY SHAYLA. IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO RECOVER FROM THAT THE FIRST TIME. AND NOW AGAIN...oh my god...

listening to this on 2.5x speed is so funny. specifically because of kayne

me when im in a disguising my desperation competition and my opponent is kayne (im losing so bad)

arthur dont you ever fucking say that shit again.

KAYNE'S LAUGH IN 2.5x.

i was losing it at the description of the blackstone so fucking much

NOEL!!! NOEL! NOEL! NOEL! NOEL! NOEL! NOEL! NOEL! NOEL! NOEL! NOEL! NOEL! NOEL! NOEL MY FUCKING GOAT RAHHHHH

this poll. this fucking poll. had me stressing so fucking hard.

oh the fanfics are going to go SO fucking hard with this new arthur lore.

kayne i love your painfully obvious ploy at emotional manipulation because you have no actual power

i am so happy the poll ended up with lilith. choosing hope and all that yknow, as much as i love kayne

benevolent canon

arthur. arthur no. arthur you know these promises won't be enough. arthur please. ARTHUR.

was? am? john, my most dearly beloved

kayne please don't make life with soaking wet bloody dogs

MY SHAYLA

but kayne what is joy if you know nothing else? ugh

god i remember tweaking out so fucking hard during this ending. my shaylas. my pookies. everything.

"i forgive you" arthur i love you. john i love you. kayne i love you but i will never forgive you. still love your zest for...not really life but yknow.

MY SHAYLA x3

i was so worried john was going to make another deal here and i'm so glad he didn't.

anyways

the interlude is so fun harlan i'm begging you to release it soon (preferably tomorrow) (as a post finals treat) (for me specifically) (please) (please) (i need to yap about it)

[the-most-humble-blog]

🚫“Why AOC Will Never Be President (And Why Your Aunt’s Pantsuit Is Losing You Swing States)”💼

(Also known as: Why Democracy Has a Restraining Order Against Feminist Branding)

⚠️Screenshot and REBLOG before they slap me wrist for talking out of turn.

👩🏽‍🦰💼 Picture it.

Fourth of July, 2028. Gas is $9.34 a gallon. Rent eats 61% of your paycheck. There’s a new “emergency equity initiative” to rename public bathrooms “feeling spaces.” And your party’s candidate? An MSNBC-branded soy smoothie in a H&M power blazer who calls backyard grills “carbon crimes.”

This is how you lose a nation.

⚠️ WARNING: Middle America Doesn’t Want a Manager. They Want a Fighter.

America is not The Wing. America is not an HR diversity training. America is not a Brooklyn rooftop brunch where every man is a “toxic archetype” until he cries on command.

America is a battlefield of the soul, held together by people who bleed for the weekend, fix their own brakes, and haven’t cried since their uncle’s funeral.

You don’t win that vote with:

TED Talk therapy voice

Eyebrow-pierced campaign interns

Instagram feminism

Quotes from Audre Lorde between bank-sponsored protest chants

You win it by commanding respect.

By being someone they’d follow into a burning building, not someone who’d cancel them for how they described the fire.

🤢 Feminist Cosplay Isn’t Leadership

Kamala tried to giggle her way into nuclear deterrence. Hillary brought a PowerPoint to a culture war. AOC talks like the boss’s daughter who gives you a write-up for microaggressions while sending your job to India.

Here’s the blunt truth:

The average American male, regardless of race, class, or coast — would rather get shot by a Russian than scolded by a feminist.

It’s not misogyny.

It’s survival instinct.

They want to serve under someone who would bleed for them, not someone who would lecture them mid-tour about their internalized masculinity.

You can’t out-charm tanks. You can’t equity seminar your way through inflation. And you sure as hell can’t ban barbecues and expect to win Michigan.

👨‍🔧 Who Would Win?

A male Democrat with:

🔧 The bluntness of a mechanic

🪖 The discipline of a war vet

🔥 The swagger of a dad who fixes shit himself

🚫 Zero tolerance for HR-speak, committee-think, or brunch-branding

Not another Twitter-thread theorist. Not another sob story about wage gaps between social media managers. Not another decolonized cookout moment.

Someone who calls gas prices what they are: robbery. Someone who says men need jobs, not gender workshops. Someone who knows a border when he sees one — and doesn’t need an 8-part podcast series to define it.

Masculine. Grounded. Loyal. Brutal when needed. That guy? He wins 42 states. Even with MSNBC screaming.

🧠 Men Don’t Vote for “Representation” — They Vote for Blood

Dems don’t lose because they’re “too woke.” They lose because nobody wants to die for a brand deck.

There’s a silent contract in every voter’s brain:

“Would I go to war for this person?”

If the answer is no, your “representation” doesn’t matter.

You can be:

Nonbinary

Bi-ethnic

Trans-disabled

A sex-positive vegan ceramicist

But if you don’t command loyalty like a warlord, you’re just another manager pretending to be a prophet.

👩🏽‍🦱 AOC Will Never Be President

Not because she’s a woman.

But because she embodies the exact archetype that men instinctively resist as leaders.

She’s brilliant, yes.

Charismatic, yes.

But she speaks like someone whose dad was a guidance counselor and whose weapon of choice is a Substack.

She’s condescension in cat-eye eyeliner. The kind of energy that makes even progressive men go:

“Nah, I’ll sit this one out.”

Men don’t want to be parented by their leader.

They want to die fighting for them.

AOC gives the vibe that she’d call your battle strategy “problematic.”

🏳️‍🌈 The Feminist Candidate Doesn’t Even Unite Women

Suburban moms? Don’t relate. Black women? Not inspired. Working-class women? Feel patronized. Conservative women? Mobilized against her.

The academic feminist doesn’t unite women — she splinters them. Her followers? An urban Tumblr priesthood. Her enemies? Literally everyone else.

You want unity?

Try someone who’s touched a power tool, paid rent late, or held a dying friend — not someone whose most traumatic moment was getting ratio’d on Twitter.

📉 HR-Speak Is Not a Political Platform

Try this experiment.

Play a 60-second clip of AOC, Kamala, or a TikTok-adjacent Dem candidate.

Then play a 60-second clip of a Marine talking about losing his squad.

Now ask a group of swing-state men:

“Which one feels like a leader?”

It’s not even close.

We don’t want:

“We believe in inclusive, intersectional, climate-conscious futures—”

We want:

“Here’s what’s broken. Here’s how we fix it. And here’s what I’d sacrifice to get it done.”

That wins elections.

Not hashtags. Not panels. Not awards from NGOs who’ve never changed a tire.

🚫 Stop Trying to Win Voters Who Don't Exist

There is no army of undecided voters whose main concern is inclusive menstruation language.

But there are millions of Black, Latino, and working-class men who want:

Respect

Work

Freedom

Pride

Give them a leader who speaks like them.

Not down to them.

Give them someone who says:

“Yeah, I know what it’s like to grind. I’ll fight like hell for you.”

And then actually means it.

🧠 TL;DR

AOC will never be president because she reads like a diversity committee cosplayer, not a leader of men.

Kamala is a marketing campaign with no soul.

The feminist candidate alienates more than she unites.

No one wants to die for someone who’d cancel them for saying “manhole.”

Real leadership isn’t about identity. It’s about gravity.

🧨 CALL TO ACTION (Psychological Torpedo Edition)

👉 Stop running candidates that sound like they’re about to ban fireworks.

👉 Start backing leaders who look like they’ve worked the Fourth of July shift.

👉 You want the working-class vote? Run someone who’d fight beside them, not re-educate them.

👉 Give America a real leader — not another TEDx feminist with a comms degree and a persecution complex.

Because guess what?

We’re not just sick of losing.

We’re sick of being asked to lose quietly while being told it’s “progress.”

⚖️ LEGAL DISCLAIMER — READ IT, SOB THROUGH IT, AND COPE:

This post is 100% protected by the U.S. Constitution. If you believe criticizing a female politician is inherently misogynist, please exit the simulation before the grown-ups fix it. Satire is not hate speech. Neither is accuracy. Your aunt's shoulder pads can't save you here.

🔥 Reblog if you’re done pretending aesthetic empowerment is a substitute for strategy. 💬 Comment if you’ve had enough of Twitter activism pretending to be policy. 📩 DM if you’ve ever voted with your gut, then watched your timeline call you a traitor. 🔁 Share it before someone calls this post “internalized misogyny” while wearing a corporate-sponsored uterus hat.

Cry harder. We’ll be grilling.

[panelshowsource]

i’d love to know, what are some panel show moments you think about a lot?

omg like just off the top of my head?

just the whole episode of cats after jimmy's tax avoidance scandal

"good evening your majesty you tax-dodging bitch"

david mumbling "chancellor of the exchequer" in small font

when the horne section was doing macarena on catsdown and the rose was so limp WHY WAS IT SO LIMP

the greatest breath smeller game

"this makes me so angry because they wouldn't show the clip of me attacking my mother with a taser! i thought it was really funny!"

josh groban being an absolute wizard at singing intros followed by martin freeman being an absolute wizard at guessing them to the point production asked him to slow down giving the answer because he was too good

when stacey solomon said she likes teresa may and jimmy carr, gino d'acampo, and carol vorderman were absolutely speechless

alex’s reaction after joe says he has pineapple in his ass

when jimmy used the 30 seconds to wax his leg??

the way the queen’s pussy being haunted was like genuine headline news

mark sending greg 148 texts and getting 0 points ("what a terrible waste of time")

when that nude model came on for jimmy to (pretend) to live draw and lee mack was so gobsmacked at that man's penis he violently elbowed david o'doherty going "look at that!"

"you wouldn't do that during shakespeare, would you?"

on outsiders when joe wilkinson couldn't believe david mitchell is only 47 and literally said "do you live outside"

phil wang roasting ed gamble and saying "ed's girlfriend is such a dog i tried to eat her"

"you cannot imply that only gay people eat vegetables"

♪ but bin men get sad ♪

when those podcasters were reading joe wilkinson his own tweets and he was sweating so much and then just covered his eyes and went "what's wrong with me..."

"stephen fry wouldn't read 'pussy-friendly finger'"

when johnny vegas was literally eating a tin of fucking dog food and kathy burke was like "what's happening??" and jimmy so nonchalantly went "we're just eating dog food :)"

when noel ate some of alex's beard and greg said "you are aware that when we're at home alex is only allowed to move around like a snake?"

every joe & rachel hug ever here's a cute one :')

claudia completely bodying this lie and everyone's animals being so cute and funny and rob and lee complaining just the whole thing

on rhlstp when richard was Being Richard for the last hour and louis theroux was Over It and richard went "have you ever tried to suck your own cock?" and louis just died and then muttered "...do we have to..."

"i don't really eat potatoes it feels a bit irish :/"

johnny vegas pulling something out of rhod gilbert's pants, sniffing it, and then scandalising the entire room by saying "i've been told i smell better from behind than i do from the front, lovers have told me"

gosh my rotted brain is always rattling around panel show moments ..i wish to be cured

[jesncin]

I’d really like to hear your thoughts on MAWS characters alongside Lois, if you want to do that of that’s entirely up to you but it would be really interesting ^_^

I've written about maws a fair bit on this blog! You can find my general thoughts on the jesncin talks maws tag and my massive maws Lois essay here for my thoughts on her. Suffice to say I'm not a fan of this show, lol. I haven't been able to stomach watching season 2 so my entire knowledge is limited to season 1. With that said, roundup of my thoughts on maws characters:

Clark Kent: boring. Vanilla. Critical lack of hero motivation and idealism outside of "people are getting hurt!" as a platitude. Just some guy who does chores because that's the nice thing to do. Not defeating the Superman Is Boring allegations- just has an uwu cute cinnamon roll himbo filter on it.

Lois Lane: xenophobic asian lois lane is the worst crime ever committed to me. A historically jaded, award winning, accomplished career woman fighting against work place misogyny is now a cutesty uwu girl-failure who needs the help of two men to get hired. Barf.

Jimmy Olsen: I get the attempt at making him a conspiracy theorist as a means of tapping into Jimmy's wacky silver age antics and to bounce off of Clark for shenanigans, but it doesn't meaningfully interrogate how that is at odds with his job as a journalist. Also he was sidelined hard in S1- more than he was in CW Supergirl.

Perry White: I was hoping that unlike STAS and if MAWS was going to pull from anime, that this meant strong relationships with Superman's cast system. But nope. Perry is just a running gag. I was hoping for a Snapper and Kara dynamic like in CW Supergirl.

Scoop troop (Cat Grant, Ronnie Troupe, Steve Lombard): Superfluous characters, easily delete-able. All of which have been reinterpreted as anime stereotypes. Yawn.

Newskid Legion: Also delete-able and a waste of my time. They should be called newsies. They make no sense as outdated characters placed in a futuristic setting. What is child labor doing this late in the game. Be more creative with modernizing outdated characters.

Pa and Ma Kent: Boring. The biggest problem you can have with the Kents is making them generic supportive parents like they're sentient Hallmark cards. Pa Kent got the bad end of the stick as the clueless parent, while Ma Kent was pushed as the heart of the family to Clark. Not that she did much.

Vicki Vale: Absolutely insane of this show to add another Asian xenophobe woman journalist. The MAWS crew love gloating about how they're not going to include Batman in MAWS, but they can't resist putting a Gothamite in their show and stealing rogues from other heroes. Could've brought Angela Chen (a canonically asian Metropolis reporter) from STAS but I guess she's not as big a name as a Gotham character, eh?

Livewire: the glowdown of a century. DCSHG continues to outperform every modern version of this character. Why make her a generic smuggler when her original job as a shock jokey is far more interesting?? Podcaster or influencer was right there. Her motives make no sense too.

Intergang crew: Why. Did they consolidate. Banshee with two random rogues (Mist & Roughouse) and call them Intergang. That's so many glowdowns at once. I've never seen someone look at a hero's diverse rogues gallery and say "let's consolidate all these characters so we have less material to work with in the future". I hate how the rogues are all tech based, and share the same origin. These baddies kickstarted the show's "villains with petty crime motivations": no ideological or thematic draw to them.

Ivo/Parasite: Another villain with nonsensical motivations. His business is going bankrupt so he sets up an investor event party to show off his Black Panther Lexo suit (which was apparently a response to Superman! A stranger that we can't trust! And somehow these expensive suits are more trustworthy) only to attack his investors and get owned by Superman. Then he just has a hateful vendetta against Superman. People who think this is a good Parasite interpretation because they projected vague Elon Musk are kidding themselves. I could clown on MAWS' Ivo all day. He is so badly written.

Heatwave: Why genderbend a Flash villain when Superman already has a Fire Woman in his rogues gallery? Volcana? Remember her? She's from the same show yall got Livewire from? Praise this show all you want for "reigniting interest in Superman", it's clear they're willing to toss away actual Superman cast characters for more popular characters from other heroes when it suits them. What's Heatwave's motivations? Petty crime.

Slade Wilson/Deathstroke: Imagine building this character up to be a big threat only to do nothing with him lol. I can't take him seriously, his voice acting is the worst and I hate his design. This show is so desperate to make attractive villains for fangirls it's frankly pathetic. How did people even mistaken him for Superman? He doesn't FLY.

Mallah and The Brain: This is what happens when you revive gay villains and put them through the HarlIvy Respectability Beam on fast forward. The gay villains aren't villains anymore! Because that would be bad representation! They're now cute cuddly domestic dads who want to raise robot children and run away together!! How TRITE. Mallah has "american faking a french accent" syndrome but bad voice acting is the norm in this show.

Mxy: The one time they include a villain that Lois and Jimmy could easily help Superman defeat (Mxy's whole deal is that you can send him to his dimension by tricking him to spell or say his name backwards) they opt to make it even dumber by just "removing his hat". Because the MAWS crew aren't smart enough to think of ways Superman and his pals can trick Mxy. For the record, CW Supergirl got this right in comparison.

Legion of Loises: It's the way this show can't write competent women even when that's the goal. All the characters act so stupid and that includes the Legion of Loises. At least MAWS!Lois learns the important lesson that even though she's not as accomplished as these career focused versions of her, at least she can keep her man. Misogyny in a cute package.

Alex/Lex Luthor: Go away. Ugly design I can't stand him. Miserable voice acting as usual.

Amanda Waller: She's pretty generic here. Playing second fiddle to Sam Lane for the most part, but this show has a problem with fleshing out Black characters in general so.

Sam Lane: We now have up to THREE asian xenophobes in MAWS season 1. The crew did not think their diversity through because at the end of the day S1 was really about a White Guy Alien getting oppressed by mostly people of color. Without a hint of irony.

Jor-El: I thought the language barrier between him and Clark was an inspired choice and clever as a means of postponing Clark learning about his heritage. But nope. Jor-El just starts magically talking in English later on. Otherwise boring and generic!

Brainy: I know he's prominent in S2 so I can't speak much for his character from the small impression I got of him in S1, but I can say that he looks mad ugly <3 truly horrible rogues designs in this show.

PHEW!! That's my roundup of MAWS character opinions! Wild how I can't even pinpoint a character I like on this show, lol. I know Kara's in S2 as well, and what I've seen of her sounds awful. Her design is bad too. I'm just not ready for the heartbreak of meeting that version of her because I love Supergirl so much :((

[pseudophan]

Love how the first thing ppl who don’t even know much bout dnp clock is their sexual deviance like those two straight? Men on a podcast (I have no idea who they are) don’t know the timeline but the “I bet the sex goes crazy” was so valid and rlly got me

i think it's because most people know of dnp as who they were in like 2015, they know them as those guys in cat whiskers with the insane fanbase, and i feel like from an outsider's perspective if you hear those guys are dating you're like... huh... bet they're absolute freaks in the bedroom. because what the fuck else would you think looking at this

and i know people are gonna be upset by it as they are any time dnp get mentioned by other creators, and i get it cause i'm also very protective of them but i do kinda think we as phannies need to just accept that dnp don't exist in a vacuum and other people are allowed to mention them and make jokes you may not find appropriate

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Lilli Petersen at HuffPost:

When Taylor Swift came out to endorse Vice President Kamala Harris last month, it was the Instagram post heard ’round the world (or at least ’round the TikTok FYP algorithm). “I’m voting for @kamalaharris because she fights for the rights and causes I believe need a warrior to champion them,” Swift wrote immediately following the first, and only, debate between Harris and former President Donald Trump. She signed her message “Taylor Swift, Childless Cat Lady” — a knock at Republican vice presidential nominee JD Vance, who has used the term to demean women without children.

With her simultaneous endorsement of the Democrat and swipe at the Republican, Swift, at 34 arguably the most famous millennial woman in U.S. pop culture, also made herself the avatar of an ongoing shift in politics among her demographic of young women: For the past few decades, they have been tilting decidedly left. “It’s popping out in the polling because it’s more dramatic this year than it has been in other years,” said Elaine Kamarck, director of the Center for Effective Public Management at the Brookings Institution. The Harris campaign has been assiduously courting women, and particularly young women. Harris regularly makes abortion rights a talking point in interviews and stump speeches, has embraced the meme-ification of her campaign (including Charli XCX enthusiasm and Swift-themed get-out-the-vote campaigns), and recently went on the popular podcast “Call Her Daddy,” which began life as a relationship and advice podcast and whose audience is now over two-thirds female and over 90% younger than 45. Trump’s campaign, meanwhile, has been... less deft. From Vance doubling down on demeaning childless women and suggesting they should have less voting power, to Trump promising to be women’s “protector,” to, really, just all of the plain ol’ misogyny, it’s not surprising the gender gap isn’t in Trump’s favor.

“You hear important people talking like this, and you say, ‘What the hell?’ You know, ‘People with children should have more votes than people without children.’ What?” laughed Kamarck. “Between Vance and Trump, they are articulating an amazingly old-fashioned notion of women’s role in society,” she added. The shift of young women leftward is not a particularly new trend. Women are regularly more liberal than their male peers, and young people are regularly more liberal than their older counterparts.

[...] She also noted that the research only focuses on women who were ages 18-29 at the time of polling, which means the data reflects the views of multiple generations, rather than the changing attitude of a steady cohort. The overall picture also shows some variance by race: White and Black women under age 50 have especially moved to the left, while Hispanic women have largely stayed the same or even shifted rightward. “But even with the ups and downs, we’ve ended up at a place that’s significantly higher, on a percent level, than it was in 2015,” Saad said. And while young women are shifting left, young men are staying relatively moderate. Sixty-three percent of young women in 2001-2007 had views closer to those of liberals than of conservatives, a figure that jumped to 78% in the 2008-2016 period and then to 87% in the 2017-2024 period. Young men, meanwhile, saw those same figures move from 47% to 57%, and then fall to 50% for the period from 2017 to 2024. The divide is becoming ever clearer as the 2024 election approaches. According to a fall 2024 Harvard Youth Poll, Harris has a 31-point lead over Trump among likely voters under 30 — and when it comes to likely female voters in that age group, Harris leads 70% to 23%. “Brat,” indeed.

[...] Young women, though, are more likely than young men to be involved in liberal-leaning social movements like Black Lives Matter, #MeToo, environmental activism and gun violence prevention. Particularly involved are young women of color, who Kiesa notes have taken on “significant” leadership in activism work.

HuffPost’s Lilli Petersen explores why young women in the USA are shifting leftwards at a historic pace since 2015.

Read the full story at HuffPost.

[lilac-hecox]

would you write that idea that's been moving around here recently with everybody thinking ian and anthony are exes before actually getting to know them? bonus points if they hear about it and they actually reconsider some things 👀

Actually Exes?- Ian/Anthony - ianthony

--

It’s at lunch when Angela perks up and lets her mouth move faster than her brain, letting her thoughts fall like loose change from her mouth with no one to catch them.

“You know, I was thinking of how progressive it is that our company was not only founded by, but owned, and run successfully by a pair of exes. Gay exes at that.”

Chanse looks at her, arching an eyebrow. “Angela…”

“What?” she asks, taking a bite of her salad. “Don’t you think that’s cool? I mean. You don’t really see that a lot. Imagine buying back your company with your ex-boyfriend and making a big theatrical reunion and all that.”

“Oh, Ang…” Amanda says, as if she were looking at a cat who is struggling to figure out how to get itself out of a box or something.

Angela looks around at her friends and co-workers, and then she looks over at the far table where Ian and Anthony are seated, shoulder-to-shoulder. Anthony is cracking up at something Ian has said, a grin stretched across Ian’s face, as Anthony wheezes and pounds his fist on the table.

When Anthony regains his composure, they keep eating until Ian offers Anthony a bite of his salad from his own fork, which Anthony gladly takes.

“You’re telling me those two salads sharing freaks aren’t ex-boyfriends?” Angela asks.

“They aren’t,” Courtney says, turning away from Shayne next to her to focus on Angela and the conversation that had been going on next to them. “As much as it seems like they are.”

“But…” Angela says, frowning. All of her thoughts of a progressive Smosh being championed by queer owners flying out the window of her mind. “Look at them.”

Courtney smiles at the two men who are lost in a world that seems to be completely their own.

“I know, but I’ve known them a long time and as far as I know they’ve never been together.”

“This is one of those things where you guys are fucking with me, isn’t it?” Angela asks, “like, ha ha, Angela believed that Ian and Anthony never dated.”

“No! I swear!” Courtney says through giggles which isn’t helping her case.

“Bitch, don’t you think I would have said something?” Chanse asks.

“You did! Our half-time song at the funeral! The sexual tension of it all!”

Chanse blinks at Angela and then looks at the group around them.

“She’s got me there.”

“Angela,” Shayne says, smiling but more serious than the rest, “We swear as far as any of us know Ian and Anthony are just friends.”

Angela lets the conversation die down after that, but she keeps her eye on her bosses the rest of lunch in case they do anything that could signify that they ever were a couple.

Over the next few days Angela takes to watching Ian and Anthony. She follows a distance behind them as they walk down the hall together. She notes that Anthony knows the exact way Ian likes his coffee in the mornings. Later on, when they get ready to shoot, Angela overhears Ian reminding Anthony that he needs to grab a snack after the shoot because Anthony had a small breakfast. She watches Anthony smile and nod, reaching out to touch Ian’s arm in thanks.

There’s no way they’ve never dated.

She records a Lunchtime Podcast with them and Erin and during the episode they talk about how they sat together at lunch throughout high school. Ian even feeds Anthony a forkful of vegan spaghetti. Angela has to dig her nails into the palm of her hand to stop herself from asking outright during the podcast about their history and their relationship.

The next day Angela gets an email from Emily that they are looking for cast and crew meme submissions for the upcoming episode of Who Memed It? Angela scans the website Spencer had shown her for making memes, but nothing inspires her. She’s too wrapped up in this Ian and Anthony conspiracy.

The way they look at each other, talk to each other, how close they are, there is no way they aren’t amicable exes!

Things at Smosh get a little busier and Angela can’t keep track of Ian and Anthony as closely as she wants. She does walk by Ian’s office and catches him on his couch, phone in hand, Anthony with his head pillowed on Ian’s shoulder, napping there.

Then, they are set to film the Who Meme’d It? episode. Angela isn’t on the panel, but she sits and watches because those episodes are always a good time and really funny to watch be filmed. Ian and Anthony happen to be on the panel along with Courtney.

They go through the memes and then partway through Shayne presents a meme that is two people making out, bodies tangled together.

“So, this says, uh, how Angela sees Ian and Anthony,” Shayne says, laughing as he explains the meme.

Anthony laughs, his cheeks red, and Ian is grinning.

“Angela has seen us make out?” Anthony asks, glancing at her across the set.

“No, she just thought you two were actual ex-boyfriends,” Shayne says, laughing.

The cast and crew watching break into laughter, Angela too.

“Hey!” she says, standing up to defend herself, “it’s an honest mistake to make!”

The laughter quiets down and the panel make their guesses. The meme was made by Shayne, and he sheepishly grins at Angela as she glares at him.

When the video is over, Angela makes a beeline for Shayne, she is so wrapped up in giving him shit over his meme that she misses the way Ian and Anthony happen to slink off the set together, as usual.

--

“So, Angela thought we actually dated,” Anthony says, “that’s funny.”

“Of course she did,” Ian says, rolling his eyes, “she also thought xylophone was spelt with a ‘Z’.”

“Yeah, true, and she and Chanse wrote that half-time show saying we had sexual tension,” Anthony adds.

Ian looks at Anthony, the two of them in their shared office.  

“Our meddlesome kids,” Ian says with a sigh.

Anthony grins, “Yeah, see, when you say they are our kids, when we’re their dads, they kinda have a point.”

“Oh,” Ian says, “you want to talk to them? Tell them to tone it down?”

Anthony smiles, leaning across the expanse of Ian’s desk and covering Ian’s hand with his own, squeezing gently, affectionately.

“Nah, it’s way more fun this way.”

[diserbillyti]

I've posted on this website before about how I work with young disabled men. I want to briefly discuss how the concept and social stigma surrounding incels has resulted in some pretty poor mental health outcomes for many of them.

tbh I think it's diminishing and dangerous that incels have acquired this normative assumption of autism when we discuss them.

It's like when people assumed incels were all insecure racist white boys before researchers actually identified, no, it's a pretty wide mix of racial backgrounds, and there's even specific in-community incel language that describes racial identity. One of the themes incels focus on and one of the narratives they use to radicalize some men is the idea that race is a direct barrier to dating predicated on this idea that women who aren't white are going to date men who are specifically to "climb up" away from systemic racist realities. Race, to incels, becomes a thing that depreciates one's value in the dating pool, and by presuming incels are white we ignore this important aspect in understanding how they actually reach and radicalize young men, and how those young men understand themselves as not right-wing while adopting violently right-wing beliefs, because acknowledging a "currycel" (sorry) experiences racism feels progressive to them.

With that in mind, I think we beefed it by applying an unrealistic stereotype of offputting autistic men to this demographic.

We think of incels and we think of a range of abnormal and antisocial beliefs, sometimes poor hygiene, that some of these men are fat (👀) or make bad facial hair decisions, that they sometimes dress oddly, that they're socially anxious or awkward, all of that. We also hear their strict irrational "evo psych" understanding of sex and gender, notice it establishes a narrow path of logic sort of like Commander Data trying to describe his cat, and attribute all of this to a learned stereotype of Asperger's Syndrome we've culturally acquired from Forrest Gump, Arnie Grape, Sheldon Cooper, all them boys.

In other words, we're taking a pre-existing stereotype of an autistic man and applying it, in my opinion very inappropriately, to this universalised idea of an incel. Which is dangerous because fitness, hygiene and fashion are some of the things these podcasts and communities hyperfixate on, so you're as likely to find incel beliefs among these three people:

In order:

Fredric Brennan, former moderator of "wizardchan," the actual birthplace of the incel movement. Please stop attributing it to a bisexual woman who just wanted to fuck nasty, she coined the term but her shit was totally removed from this. It is weird that this is constantly presented as some kind of funny oddity. Real "women hunting desperately to find a woman they can blame for misogyny" vibe, I say as a cisgender man way out of line lol. Anyway, Brennan is a complex dude undergoing his redemption arc. I'm not interested in engaging in any discourse about him with able-bodied people because the concept of explaining pro-eugenics disabled people to outsiders makes me crave euthanasia. Just know I am deeply anti-heel Brennan, mildly pro-babyface Brennan.

The Amazing Atheist. In high school one of my friends said I remind them of him and this was genuinely worse than any slur I have ever been called.

Andrew Tate, who I include to point out, is a fitness grifter as much as he is the incel king. He's the part of the incel marketing pipeline that "teaches you how to get laid." He's not hot to me, but you cannot deny he's physically healthy and looks like he bathes; he is not the stereotype we apply to incels, despite being the dude so many incels model their lives around.

Anyway, autistic men see the inappropriate use of autistic stereotypes to describe the incel phenomenon, see themselves in the stereotype, and think, oh. Well, that describes me, so I guess if I'm "being forced onto a side as a man," I am automatically on that team, because what that team is saying is "people will hate you for having these traits" and with all of these people describing people like me s potential school shooters or rapists, well, that sure seems to be the case.

I know this isn't how reality looks to the rest of us. But this is a conversation I have had to have with so many sexist boys in my class. When you're disabled and socially isolated, you become hypersensitive to anything that looks like you being used negatively, because it reinforces that sense of isolation and thus feels more true.

This is why I think it's important to attack ideologies, not create characters of the people we oppose, because it almost always results in applying some ableist character to those people.

See also: the equivocation of schizophrenia and conspiracy theorists / conspiracists.

The reality is, the kind of false reality beliefs that conspiracists have does not align with patterns in disorders that feature psychosis. Nevertheless, we apply the concept to them.

Take the tinfoil hat. A schizophrenic or someone with severe OCD might actually, yes, believe that if they don't wear a certain item, some bad thing is going to happen to them, ie. demons will take over my body or my thoughts will be stolen. A conspiracist believes if they don't shield their brain from electromagnetic waves, the 6G towers are going to steal their thoughts. A key difference here is, the person in psychosis came to this conclusion apophenically, somewhat randomly, and influenced by the specific background of concepts familiar to them in culture. The conspiracist was radicalized down an often internally consistent pipeline of beliefs and aesthetics by an observable environmental cause, ie. QAnon, Fox News, InfoWars, or a cult.

But we apply the concept of schizophrenia to the conspiracist due to a limited understanding of both - "they believe things that aren't true" - and in so doing, make life a little harder for schizophrenics by essentially using their existence as a kind of slur to mean "a bad person who's ideas I should dismiss," the exact opposite of how you should understand and engage with a schizophrenic.

In fact, incels and conspiracy theorists share a lot of similarities because incels are conspiracy theorists.

Their "international banking" is feminism.

Their "great replacement theory" is "the feminization of men."

The only reason people seem to perceive a difference is this sometimes unconscious concept that incels are autistic and conspiracy theorists are schizophrenic, which misrepresents both by attributing a caustic radical belief system to neurodivergence, a dangerous precedent both for the disabled, and in actually addressing the issues of inceldom and conspiracy theorism.