#posts an indirect to age of man

[stardustwhoreds]

smh

[sapphicsvibes]

my last post was also about the discussions of transmisogyny centering cis female athletes who are women of color. there is a wider conversation being had about transmisogyny in athletics, and that is that, trans women aren't even allowed to compete. before we start discussing how transmisogyny impacts not trans fems, we need to actually center the discussion around the heavily, transmisogynstic shit that is already happening.

and when we talk about how cis woc athletes being overly masculinized and decide to call it transmisogyny instead of what it actually is, racism, it sets us back. there is this understood idea that people can be indirectly impacted by transmisogyny, but unless the subjects of those conversations are transfeminine people, then the focus shouldn't be transmisogyny.

it should be racism. it should be the fact that the white, western gender binary and idea of femininty/womanhood is so fucked up that cis girls of color from a young age are viewed as more masculine, dangerous and larger than white women. we should be focusing on the complexities of misogynoir that black girls go through from childhood to adult hood where we are both masculinized and also hypersexualized and exposed to harmful race science that gets us preyed upon by older men. we should focus on how these conversations of masculinizing women of color comes to play in how white women and white afabs (yes, i know i said i dont like using afabs but i am starting ot use it when discussing the lived experience of white afab people and how that negatively impacts people of color in queer spaces) can utilize their privilege, tears, femininity, etc., to turn society against cis girls of color and how we are automatically seen as a threat to them

we need to talk about racialized misogyny when dicussing imane khelif, and how white women like jk rowling, who has a history of transmigoyny yes, but also anti-arab/MENA racism and islamaphobia, and is prominent in alt right groups, is using her platform to attack a possible muslim, MENA woman. and that's a big thing that hardly anyone talks about - Rowling is heavily islamphobia and anti-arab. when you se guys see her attacking a MENA woman, and decide to focus solely on transmisogyny, you are quite literally erasing a huge chunk of her bigotry.

yes, indirect transmisogyny comes to play, but when you are talking about racialized misogyny, you NEED to make sure that is the main focus - racism and misogyny, because if you don't you make it hard if not impossible for us to have any type of productive conversation. you guys being too afraid to call out racism and misogyny makes it seem like you are shielding white women/afabs and white society from the pain they have put women of color through for decades.

the same goes for misogynoir??? like when we are talking about misogynoir and them completely ignore it and lump it under transmisogyny, who does that help? not only does the black community have an issue with transmisogyny in general, but it also erases a term that we've come up with to help better discuss our oppression.

also, this isn't to say that trans woc don't face racialized misogyny and misogynoir (black transfems!) because they do. but it should be understood that while THEY face these things, transmisogyny is something that should also center them. and while we, as non trans fem women do face racialized misogyny/misogynoir - yeah, sometimes we can draw comparisons between transmisogyny, but we shouldn't be the ones taking the lead or taking platforms.

and last but not least, the way you guys who are claiming what is happening to cis female athletes is transmisogynistic. Do you know how many trans people, who aren't trans fem, that i've seen saying

"see, this is why we need to talk about transmisogyny affecting non transfems! xyz athlete was actually born a woman, she's not a man, she is afab! she has a vagina!" do you realize how that language is terfy, do you realize how you guys will try to hijack convos of transmisogyny while also reinforcing transmisogynistic requirements of what makes a woman a woman?

[shelfperson]

OKAY OKAYYYYY OKAY like i understand why people are bullying louis right now. it’s not a great look to dick down the guy who just now threatened to murder you and your daughter. but taken from louis’ perspective? without our foreknowledge of the plot? for all he knows he’s just gained an important and powerful ally.

like???? before armand spares louis, he does the whole “why are the powerful so weak” speech with the obvious implication that he doesn’t want to enact the Great Laws on louis specifically. and then he… doesn’t. And then, and this is crucial, opens up to louis about ALSO having his heart broken by lestat. which puts him in a place of automatic solidarity with him. and then he kisses him! as assad said the post-show breakdown, armand had to choose between the coven and louis in that moment and he chose louis.

like as far as louis is concerned, he and claudia are safe. at the very least, sage from armand specifically.

and like. i am absolutely 100% certain armand will have something to do with claudia’s death but i kind of doubt that armand is just like. masterminding from the shadows all day everyday and is retroactively altering the ENTIRE NARRATIVE. that’s just so boring. he becomes a non-character at that point.

what i think is much more likely is what a lot of people have been theorizing about: santiago stages a coup because armand is a fucking hypocrite and makes armand pick between claudia or louis. and armand is going to pick louis. and that’s what armand is hiding from louis. not that he personally killed her in cold blood but that he killed her through inaction/indirect action.

i’m also super exited to see the resentment between claudia and armand ramp up from here. like HELLO CHOKESLAM WHAT THE FUCK???? get AWAY from her.

anyway i bet armand and claudia have some really adversarial interactions after this point and that’s part of what armand doesn’t want louis to see in claudia’s diaries. like the two of them are perfectly positioned to activate the other’s trauma’s/hangups because they’re BOTH afraid of being abandoned they BOTH know what it’s like to always be someone’s second choice and they both really want louis to pick the other.

on top of that, i’m sure armand’s scary ass is having his disney villain “if it weren’t for those meddling middle aged kids” moment about claudia at some point too.

like i doubt he “could not prevent it” but i also think a little more nuance, a little more conflict, is much better than Bad Man does Bad Scary Thing because he’s craaaaaaaazyyyy.

this has become a rambling mess but the POINT IS. there’s a little more going on then louis just letting jeff the killer into his house out of sheer dickmatization. there’s layers.

[pushovermediacritic]

One Piece Secret Parent Theories

This post is for documenting all the major and plausible "secret parent" theories that are popular in the fanbase, as well as the evidence and arguments for those theories being canon. So far, I have four big ones:

Crocodile is a trans man and Luffy's other parent

Crocodile is 46 and Luffy is 19, so Crocodile is old enough.

Ivankov said that they know Crocodile's secret as blackmail to get him to behave when helping them break out of Impel Down. Ivankov can change other people's genders, thus Crocodile has the past connections to be a trans man.

Ivankov is a founding member of the Revolutionary Army, just like Dragon. Thus Crocodile has an indirect connection to Dragon.

Dragon's family name wasn't public knowledge, people didn't know he was related to Garp. Even within the Revolutionary Army, it was just a rumor. Therefore, it's possible Crocodile wouldn't recognize Luffy's name from his bounty poster if he didn't know Dragon's family name and Dragon named their son "Luffy" without his knowledge.

Baroque Works has a particular focus on gender equality and diversity, especially with Bon Clay.

It would completely reframe Luffy vs Crocodile in Alabasta.

Queen is Franky's father

Queen is 56 and Franky is 36, so Queen is old enough.

Queen and Franky have the same XF Blood Type.

Queen's Vivre Card revealed that he had a kid 36 years ago. Franky is 36.

Queen's Vivre Card goes on to say that he abandoned his son when he was 10. Franky was abandoned when he was 10.

Franky doesn't go by his birth name Cutty Flam, and his appearance is drastically different than it was before. So Queen wouldn't recognize him.

Queen also doesn't go by his real name Scien, a change he made after abandoning his kid when he joined the Animal Kingdom Pirates.

Queen barely saw Franky in Wano. Queen briefly saw Franky on the monitor during Yasuie's execution, and then again briefly in Onigashima when Franky ran over Big Mom and then got in the Franky Shogun for the Straw Hat team pose.

Franky never saw Queen at all outside of his Brachiosaur form, also in the team pose scene.

Franky and Queen are both very talented with machinery and robotics, it's possible that Queen taught Franky some of that when he was a kid.

Sakazuki is Hibari's father

Sakazuki is 55 and Hibari is 17, so he's old enough.

Sakazuki and Hibari are the only two characters in the series with a Hiroshima dialect.

They both are Marines from the North Blue.

They have the same F Blood Type.

The official spin-off manga "Kobiyama Who Looks Like Koby - Two Piece in a Pod" is about a One Piece fanboy in the real world who looks like Koby. The main love interest is a girl named Akaishi who vaguely resembles Hibari, and her father looks just like Sakazuki.

Sasaki is Kokoro's son and Chimney's father

Sasaki is 34, Kokoro is 72, and Chimney is 10, so the ages line up.

Sasaki was born in the Grand Line, and Kokoro's son was born in Water Seven.

Sasaki is a Fishman, which works with Kokoro being a Mermaid and Chimney being a quarter-Mermaid with how Fishman/Mermaid genetics works.

Sasaki has green hair and tan skin, just like Kokoro and Chimney.

Kokoro and Sasaki are both alcoholics. Alcoholism can be hereditary.

Sasaki was Franky's main fight in Wano, and Franky is Kokoro's adoptive son.

Are there any other significant "secret parent" theories I'm missing?

I know there's one about Brook being Kuzan's father because they look similar and both ended up with ice powers, but the ages just don't line up. Brook died 52 years ago and Kuzan is 49. Maybe Brook could be Kuzan's grandparent, but Brook being from the West Blue and Kuzan being from the South Blue really throws a wrench in that whole theory.

I know there's another one about Dragon being Robin's dad, therefore making Luffy and Robin half-siblings, but outside of Robin and Luffy frequently being on the same mental wavelength, I really don't see enough evidence for this theory to include it besides the honorable mention here.

I wish there was a good one for Yamato's mom, but unfortunately, Yamato was born in November the exact same year that Kaido came to Wano, meaning his parentage possibilities are "anyone outside of Wano" or "anyone in Wano". If he was born any other year (or even just earlier in the year), it'd at least be narrowed down to one or the other, but nope.

[cafejulii]

How Albert, William, and Louis Reflect The Holy Trinity in Christianity

(a 3 part analysis series that I had made year ago on another social media platform but would like to post here because why not)

P2: William

On to our main character, William, who represents Christ — a martyr who died by the hand of his own people for the salvation of humanity while simultaneously preaching messages of justice and equality for all. Though the other reflections I have made regarding Albert as God the Father and Louis as the Holy Spirit are indirect parallels; William had canonically been intended to serve as a direct parallel to Christ.

Starting from the very beginning William, alike Jesus, was born into poverty. Within both of their present societies, the idea of such a largely influential figure, not to mention, a figure promising salvation, being born without inherent status seemed impossible to fathom, as their mission would be directly hindered by a lack of finance, connections, and the overall discrimination they would face simply from being impoverished. However, this was done intentionally, for in both their cases, their humble beginnings allowed them to truly empathize with the struggles of the common man and show that salvation could be brought upon any person, regardless of societal status.

A direct parallel between William and Christ in Yuumori is made in Chapter 1, where William was seen preaching to the children in the orphanage about his mission to reform British society directly behind a cross, which is representative of not only Christ himself but his mission and eventual passion; a foreshadowing made to William's eventual sacrifice.

This particular scene also serves as reference to when Jesus spoke to the elders at the temple in Matthew 21:23, proclaiming the mission that the God had planned for the redemption of humanity at the ripe age of twelve, the very same age in which William was during this particular scene.

Both William and Christ always acted on the principal that all human life was of value regardless of status and were always charitable to those in need. In his lifetime, Jesus was known for dining with tax collectors, women of the night, the sick, and the poor; all people who during his time period were considered the lowest of the low.

William did the same with members of the lower class, as he associated with them regularly, despite protests from other members of the nobility.

Also, just as how Jesus preformed miracles to alter the course of people's lives for the better, William ran his criminal consultant business. Both Jesus and William insisted on no material cost for their services, only that the person would become a disciple of theirs; offering their life towards the mission they have in store.

During his ministry, Jesus was never shy on expressing his distaste for the Pharisees (the predominate religious sect that opposed Jesus because they wanted to maintain their own power), even flipping a table when they turned the temple into a marketplace...."Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You shut the door of the Kingdom of Heaven in men's faces. You yourselves will not enter, nor will you let those enter who are trying to. Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites!"

The hatred that William harbors towards the nobles is similar to Jesus's hatred of the Pharisees, as both groups hinder the progression and redemption of society solely because of their need for power. (The shutting of the Kingdom of Heaven in men's faces).

Not only this but like the Pharisees, the nobility of England are massive hypocrites, as they treat the lower class almost as savages who have no purpose in the world, objectively incorrect rhetoric, as it is the working class who upholds the foundations of England. The rich are savages, for they do nothing but bask in their own wealth while actively bringing about discord among the majority of the population. Due to this, William rebels against the nobility by bestowing punishment upon them, fueled by the rage he holds for their sins.

{ looking back on this analysis, I also potentially realize that the nobility is also representative of the demons that Christ had cast out during certain portions of his ministry, as William directly calls them "devils" in the moments before he kills them}

It is also important to note that Jesus was actually considered a criminal by the Pharisees, as they were concerned with the sheer amount of support he was gaining from the people of Israel who genuinely believed he was the Messiah. Since he preached that he was the Son of God despite regularly associating with the sinful, he was accused of blasphemy, even being compared to the Devil himself. The combination of these two things then led to him being framed for rebellion, as insisting on being "King of the Judeans", was a capital crime- which resulted in him being charged with counts of both treason and blasphemy, despite being innocent of any real crime and in fact, even making the world a better place. Such claims eventually led to his execution, and even though he could have possibly gotten out of this situation, his death was a necessary act, as it was the only way to the restoration of Original Holiness to humanity.

Like Jesus, William was also dubbed as a criminal, however, unlike Jesus; William did actually commit crimes. Still, the overwhelming support he gained from the common people at the beginning of the story is representative of the followers that Jesus gained during his ministry. However, by committing these crimes, William was eventually charged with both treason and conspiracy, even being called a Devil by London society [and himself], even though he committed such atrocities for the chance that someday there will be a world in which all people have equality of opportunity.

Similarly, to the mission of Christ, the only way that his plan would be fulfilled is if the common folk and the nobility targeted their anger at one singular person, ultimately unifying them but resulting in his own death.

On to the final problem, Albert states that "he [William] is starting to look like the guy who carried a cross while climbing the hill of Golgotha bearing all our sins and ultimately dying alone" which is a direct reference to Christ who died on the hill of Golgotha, bearing the sins of humanity on his back represented by a cross.

Then, as William fell of the Tower Bridge, He fell not only willingly, as Christ died willingly, but also in a position where both of his arms were stretched out on either side and his legs were more or less together in reference to the position that Jesus was forced in when he died on the cross.

Finally, both Jesus and William came back from "dead" to their Apostles (Jesus after 3 days and William after three years) after being in a state of Hell. Though William was not in a literal Hell, the agony that his mental state caused him at the time could definitely be considered a form of hell.

There is also this official art [left] in which William is depicted with a crown of thorns atop of his head.This is a direct reference to Christ who had a wreath of thorns placed upon his head by the Roman soldiers who mocked his title as "The King of the Jews" before he climbed Golgotha for his execution.

{Also at the time I had written this, the remains had not been released, and this may be a bit of a stretch as well, however, I believe that the flower crown Albert is placing on William's head similarly serves as a reference to Jesus as well. Only, the only difference is that it is not a crown of thorns yet a crown of flowers, perhaps meant to represent a halo}

disclaimer: I am an ex-christian, however, I had been raised in the faith and just happened to keep a large interest in scripture despite the fact I have departed from the church. Do correct me if there is any misinformation.

[bluecatwriter]

By the way when Mina says “[s]ome of the New Women writers will someday start an idea that men and women should be allowed to see each other asleep before proposing or accepting” (110–111), she is likely referring to post-coital sleep (in an indirect way that is the only acceptable one for print).

It's funny that in another Stoker novel after Dracula, a female main character does exactly that (sleep with a man -not on screen ofc- after her initiating it, right before proposal and wedding).

It's a bit more explicit due to probably the age of it being written (though Mina and Jonathan being presented constantly as waking up together, the image of them sharing a bed, Jonathan coming to bed to lie next to her, Mina trying to pull him back to bed "more affectionate than ever" one time, are for a late Victorian horror novel as explicit an imagery about them being sexually intimate as it can be.)

I don't know enough about the cultural context around that first quote to know if that's what Stoker is implying, but that is interesting! And I do agree that Mina and Jonathan are definitely presented in what was a steamy way for mainstream Victorian literature. Any time they kiss in front of their friends is almost scandalous. Good for them. :)

[horizon-verizon]

The Dance isn’t supposed to be the War of Roses. It’s clear as day that Rhaenyra is Empress Matilda and Aegon II is Stephen of Blois.

Jaehaera NEVER should have married Aegon III if we care about historical parallels at all. Stephen’s daughter, Mary I Countess of Boulogne, was abducted by her distant cousin and forced into marriage, became an abbess, lived until 46 years old, had daughters and multiple descendants. Mary and Henry II (Matilda’s son and Stephen’s successor) never married each other despite both of them being around the same age and being single when Stephen ended up recognising Henry as his adoptive son and named him heir.

Aegon III doesn’t deserve to be tied to the daughter of his mother’s killer, but if I was TG, I wouldn’t want Jaehaera to be tied to the son of the man who ordered B&C.

I write about the War of Roses v The Anarchy used in F&B HERE.

Instead of the Starks vs Lannisters the current ASoIaF Westerosi war is losely based on, we have branches of the same family fight each other.

Elizabeth York, Henry VII (Tudor)'s wife and Edward IV's daughter, can be said to be a Jaehaera stand-in of sorts merely for being the daughter of the (York/green) branch of the Plantagenets/Targaryens the other branch (Lancaster/black) side was fighting against. Despite Corlys defecting after the Seed's imprisonment, Daenaera isn't a daughter--direct or indirect--of the enemy the blacks were fighting. Thus the Dance is lightly based off of the Roses war in those ways. So I can see why people expect it to follow a lot more traits as that war & its ending. However, as I said in that linked post above, there are important differences. One especially where Elizabeth's family members weren't as intimately violent against Henry's specifically because Henry came from an even smaller branch of the Lancaster branch of the Plantagenets.

[enneamage]

Thoughts on the George stuff in relation to ur perception of him?

Unfortunately I would put myself as disappointed but not surprised. I fell out of sync with Dream Team stuff a while ago so any insight dropped off badly.

The thing my brain actually went to the fastest was the people queering ccs to feel positively / safe about them essay that I unleashed a while ago. People clung very hard to the idea of George being gay / his true love being a man so he would be 'safe,' and now in one movement we're confronted with him being attracted to women and willing to commit SA. 

I had one passing glance at Straight George in that post but I was thinking about it more at the time, what if he was attracted to women and how would that manifest in a Gamer/Streamer Male brain? My projections were not positive. I couldn't have guessed this, but I'm exhausted to say that his actions seem in line with someone of his demographic with assertiveness/indirectness issues. He moved past boundaries and relied on unspoken power dynamics like age and popularity to make things 'easier.' If it was autopilot or on purpose doesn't matter at this stage since the results are the same.

[biscuits-of-bagend]

Andy Murray - The Flowers We'll Remember

I made this playlist halfway through the week, in between victories one and two. It tells me the story of Andy Murray's career as I experienced it, through songs that mean a lot to me, which is to say it might not make much sense to anyone else! So I've included some explanations below.

The title is related to a passage from the Ali Smith novel 'Summer'. It's about a summer day that told the gods it wanted to last forever, which the gods found hilarious.

Halfway Right by Linkin Park - 'I scream at myself when there's nobody left to fight', representing my earliest memories of Andy Murray, which involved a lot of him screaming at himself.

Hard Times by Paramore - Losing to Federer and Nadal and later Djokovic, but jauntily. A young man's losses.

The Heart Never Lies by McFly - 2012 Wimbledon final on-court interview 🥺

Love Forty Down by Frank Turner - I know he was 40-0 up at the end of the Wimbledon final, but functionally going from 40-0 to 40-Adv is basically the same thing 😂

Hold On by Twin Atlantic - back injuries :/ still sort of felt like it would all work out okay though, at least that was my understanding of it I think.

Don't Stop Me Now by Queen - Davis Cup at the end of 2015 through to World Tour Finals at the end of 2016. A euphoric period (ignore any losses to Djokovic in grand slam finals, we don't need to talk about those), but hard to look back on without thinking about what was coming.

Airfield by Enter Shikari - The Hip. Queens 2017 & 2017 Wimbledon QF to Australian Open 2019 'retirement'.

Wetsuit by The Vaccines - so get a hip operation, come on, come on

Get Better by Frank Turner - Bursting back to life/resurfacing in Cincinnati 2019. Also makes me think of 2019 'Resurfacing' documentary even though that didn't come out until later in the year.

Walk by the Foo Fighters - omg I've just realised I was thinking of the US Open 2020 not 2019... welp, timey wimey I guess, insert your preferred moment of watching Andy figure out how to play with his new hip

Mountains by Biffy Clyro - Antwerp 2019

Getting Old Sucks (But Everybody's Doing It) by Bowling For Soup - Pandemic through to 2023, including the post 4am fightback from two sets to love down against Thanasi Kokkinakis (see pics below). Getting old does suck, but Andy was really good at it.

Forever's Not Enough by McFly - "I want to play forever" (Wimbledon 2024)

26 by Paramore - a sad quiet song about hope, ie the only thing I was holding onto during the first half of that match against Nishikori and Daniel, which, lest we forget, was horrible

The Last Song by McFly - from 5 match points down through to breaking back in the second set against the Americans. Just pure fucking magic ✨ (thank you Dan!) ~~Epilogue section~~

Growing Up Beside You by Paolo Nutini - Andy Murray may be 11 years older than me, but so many of my memories of watching him play are tied to memories of times in my life. For example, I watched the 2016 World Tour Finals semi-final against Raonic in my student union, and vaguely remember trying not to show how stressed I was. I'm currently the age he was when he won Wimbledon the first time, so that's not terrifying at all...

The Way I Loved You (Taylor's Version) by Taylor Swift - I do really like Jannik Sinner but this could sort of be read as an indirect towards him? Although tbf watching post-puke Sinner power through tournaments has been its own kind of awesome. Honestly though, I don't think anyone will ever make me feel as much of a "rollercoaster kind of rush" on a tennis court as Andy Murray did anyway, not even the stress of watching Grigor Dimitrov try to hold a lead ❤️

Wouldn't Change a Thing - I really really wouldn't, and I hope Andy feels the same. Well, I mean, he'd probably choose not to have a hip injury, but you know what I mean 😆

[roodles03]

Huntlow sexuality and relationship headcannons:

Ever since the confirmation of Willow and Hunter's sexualites, I've been thinking a lot about their past experiences with love and crushes before. As well as how that affects their relationship currently. So let's waste no time. (This is gonna be a LONG post so be prepared.)

Willow:

Willow has had tons of crushes growing up, on boys, girls, and enby folk alike, but everytime they never went well. Whether she had the guts to ask them out or not, It was either someone way out of her reach, or someone who didn't like her back. (Or straight up didn't like her at all.) And worst of all, whenever Boscha and her gang found out about any sort of crush Willow had, they would tell the whole school and pick on her to death about it. This led to Willow eventually thinking that no one would ever see her that way. That no one would ever want to be her girlfriend. That she never had a chance with anyone she'd ever like. Whenever she developed a new crush, she wouldn't tell anyone. Not even Gus, and would bury and repress those feelings until they were gone.

However, everything would change when she met Hunter. Hunter was the first person to ever like her romantically, and even though he wouldn't confess for months, he showed clear signs with his body language that he, in fact, had feelings for her. However, Willow had dug herself in a hole so deep at this point that she never even noticed. Well, she did, but she had beat herself down so much that she just assumed Hunter was shy, or he was always nervous and flustered like that. After all, he had never interacted with peers his age until they met. He probably was always like this.

Willow had developed feelings for Hunter in the human realm, but the idea of having another crush was incredibly scary for her. Not to mention, the fact that it was on someone she was actually super close to made it downright mortifying. She knew her luck with crushes, and she bullied herself into a mindsight where she truly beileved Hunter would never in a million years like her back that way. The thought of him actually liking her was impossible in her eyes, so, she did what she did best whenever she had a crush. Repress her feelings until they went away.

However, this time they weren't going away. In fact, they were only growing stronger, and it terrified Willow. She didn't know how much longer she could hold these feelings in for, but then, during her meltdown in the detention pit, where Hunter saved her life from nearly suffocating herself, and told her just how much she meant to him, and that it was okay to let oneself feel things, she no longer began repressing her feelings for him. Which is why Willow didn't start blushing at him until then. She finally let herself feel romantic feelings again, and she immediately began showing Hunter how much he meant to her too. It wasn't long after that when Willow realized Hunter was showing obvious signs he liked her, not only that, but she realized that he only showed those signs around her and no one else, thirdly, he had been showing signs for months now that she was looking back.

Willow couldn't beileve it, someone liked her. Someone actually liked "half-a-witch Willow". The one thing she had to do now was confess her feelings for him, but somehow, doing that was just as terrifying as before. She holds off on it, but holds off for too long. Hunter starts attending Hexside, and her fears of being bullied for her crush return, and she has no idea what to do.

Hunter:

Despite queerphobia not existing in the demon realm, Hunter experienced it in an indirect way. Belos definitely was queerphobic, (I mean, come on, this is the man that killed his own brother for falling in love). and he definitely didn't want Hunter to learn about the LGBTIA community considering just how isolated he was. If Hunter fell in love with anyone that could spell a huge problem for his usefulness towards him.

So Hunter had absolutely no idea that queer people existed. However, he definitely experienced queerness in himself. In the little free time Hunter had, he read fictional books or watched movies and TV shows approved by Belos. Hunter didn't really know or understand it, but he would develop crushes on his favorite fictional characters, of both boys and girls. Sometimes even drawing self-insert fanart or writing self-insert fanfiction in his free time. Belos had literally never told him anything about queer people in hopes he'd never discovered it. This backfired as when Hunter first saw it when he found out Amity and Luz were dating, he didn't question it at all. He thought it was completely normal.

Hunter, at the time, definitely knew what romance was and that romantic feelings existed, but he had no idea how that felt. Hunter just assumed his feelings for those fictional characters were something everyone felt. However, this all changed when he met Willow. This was the first crush he had on a real person, and it was the first time he really noticed that he felt different towards her then anyone else he had ever met. It's the first time he notices this feeling. However, he had absolutely no idea what he was feeling. In fact, he thinks something is wrong with him. Like he's been cursed or has come down with some strange illness. This confusion continues when they get to the human realm, where Hunter's feelings only grow more. He learns more about queerness for Amity and Luz, picking up that what he's feeling is actually romantic love. This is when he looks back at those fictional characters he used to grow attached to, and then he realizes he's bisexual.

However, even after realizing all this, he's too scared to tell Willow how he feels. He thinks that she wouldn't see anything in him. That he doesn't have chance with such a powerful witch like Willow. It doesn't help that at this point, he's still hiding the fact he's a grimwalker, terrified at the fact that if she finds out she'll hate him. So he keeps his feelings inside and doesn't tell anybody, afraid he'll mess everything up. And even if that wasn't a factor, he had no idea how to express how to felt for her.

When Willow has her meltdown in the detention pit, Hunter is heartbroken to hear Willow say those things to herself. They're almost all things he has told himself before, and he can't stand to see her go through what he has gone through. He saves her, and tells her just how much she means to him, finally finding the words to say how he feels. This, of course, touches Willow immensely. And soon, Willow tells him how much he means to her, too, and that's when Hunter realizes he might have a slight chance with Willow now.

[experimentjr]

THE MAN HIMSELF IS REDESIGNED!!!

Father of men; gautr of men; allfather; the aged gautr; delight of Frigg; eagle head; attacking rider; lord of Æsir; friend of wealth; enemy of the wolf; baldr's father; flaming eye; speak shaker, flashing eye and etc are but a few of Odin's many epithets. Father of Thor, Baldr ou Meili, Höðr, Heimdallr, Vali, Hermóðr, Hildólfr, Nepr, Sigi, Sigrlami, Skjöldr, Ítreksjóð, Sæmingr, Gauti, Vegdagr, Viglek, Winta, Casere, Saxnōt and many more, he is as old as is wise and as wise as he is power-hunger.

Son of Borr, he and his brother's Vili and Vé were the ones that slayed Ymir and from his body, created Asgard, Midgard and some other realms as well. With the flood that came with Ymir's death, Odin was also the indirect killer of hundreds of other giants in the great flood. With the Earth deity he'd created with a part of Ymir's flesh, he had Thor. With the tides, he had Heimdallr. With Frigg/Freyja, he had Baldr and Höðr. With Gríðr he had Váli and Víðarr and some many more with countless women.

With his hunger for power and knowledge, he gave his hunger for meat in exchange for two of Veðrfölnir's children Huginn and Muninn so he could be updated from the realms of everything; he exchanged of one of his eyes to drink from Mímisbrunnr; he stole from Suttungr's kingdom the mead of poetry and tricked Gunnlöð, who was guarding the mead into letting him take a sip from each night he spent with her. Three nights were spent and three sips he took, but each sip he took, each one of the three barrels he emptied and left the kingdom, leaving Gunnlöð bearing his child. These were only few of his countless stories after knowledge and power and maybe more will come in the future >:) but only future will tell.

He is designed at last!!! Dang I wanted so much to redesign Odin and he finally looks more overbearing, along his spear that looks way more powerful now, but he is not the last god that will be redesigned so keep in touch with my posts and even P4TR30N for exclusive and early content >:D

OLD ODIN

[prettybabiee]

Suprise- Bucky Barnes x Gender neutral age regressor

note- I wrote this a while ago based on an actual experience I had with my bf. I'm actually really happy with this I think its really good

Warnings- some cussing, self-doubt about regression, VERY brief indirect mention of age p!ay (nothing bad or insinuating they are the same)

This was never supposed to happen! But now it's done. Bucky is definitely gonna break up with me. These were the only thoughts going through Y/N's head. They were frozen in their spot eyes wide at the sight of Bucky staring back at them. Bucky was just confused, he didn't know what he had just walked into. he wasn't judging, he just wanted to know what was happening. You were surrounded by stuffed animals, coloring books, fuzzy blankets, and many other child things like dolls. They were both frozen and couldn't speak not wanting to offend or explain to the other.

However the more the silence grew and Bucky just looked at them, the more they slipped into their headspace. After a few additional moments, Y/N started to tear up and let out a loud wail. They were so overwhelmed with what is happening they couldn't control how far they regressed. Bucky was stunned and didn't know what to do. What does he do in this situation?

"Fuck, what do I do? shit," Bucky asks himself. He rushes to sit in front of his crying partner. he looks around at the toys and other things around him and picks some of them up and tries to hand them to Y/N.

"No, no, no, don't cry," he pauses and picks up a stuffed animal, "Your, uhh, unicorn thing wouldn't want you crying right?" he asks putting it in her face. Y/N just cries louder, and Bucky huffs and throws the stuffed animal to the side. He continues to look down at the things surrounding his partner, and that's when he spots a pacifier.

He picks it up and shoves it in Y/N's mouth hoping it would calm them as it would a baby. To his relief it did, he figured they might have needed to be treated like a baby with the way they were behaving so far. Bucky stands up but bends down to pick Y/N up and sets them on his hip while his metal arm is wrapped around their waist securely. He bounces Y/N on his hip as he walked to the living room making them giggle softly. He sets them down on the couch and picks up the remote to put it on a random cartoon from Netflix.

Y/N focuses on the tv watching diligently while Bucky paces behind the couch trying to think of what is going on. Is this a thing that people do these days? I am an old man, I missed a lot. Should I ask Sam? Bucky paced for about five minutes thinking of what to do. He ended up taking out his phone and googling "why is my girlfriend using a pacifier and behaving like a child?"

This search brought up a lot of mixed articles and Reddit posts. He read through a couple of them and they didn't fit his situation. They mainly were guys complaining about how their wives or girlfriends were acting childish in an argument. after a whole episode of the show he put on, he finally found a Reddit post that he could relate to. scrolling through the replies he kept seeing two answers. He could immediately rule out one of them, so he searched for the other option, age regression. He found a lot of information on it and learned some things about it.

Bucky goes back to grab some of Y/N's things and brings them into the living room. He makes them a bottle of warm milk with vanilla and honey while grabbing their favorite snack that could be eaten while they are regressed. He walks back into the living room confident he could take care of his partner for the night until he does more research on age regression.

"Look honey I got you your favorite snack and a bottle of I think it's called angel milk." He says with a smile plastered on his face. Y/N looks up from their show and hums in excitement at the sight. Bucky sits down next to Y/N and takes their paci out of their mouth. He begins to feed them the snack he brought, not feeding them too much just enough for them to be satisfied after they had their milk.

"Do you want to sit in my lap while I feed you you're bottle honey bun?" he asks not wanting to overstep boundaries. Y/N slowly nods their head yes. Bucky scoops Y/N up and places them in his lap, he puts the bottle in their mouth and feeds Y/N. Once They are done Bucky burps them and sets them back down to watch tv while he washes their bottle and puts away their snacks.

Bucky looked at the time and realized it was getting late, he huffed, and walked over to turn the tv off. Y/N looked up at him sad and started to get fussy.

"Hey, hey, hey, look it's okay," Bucky picks them up from the couch and makes sure she is secure on his hip again while walking her to her room.

"how about we go to sleep? I will lay down with you if that's okay?" Y/N shakes their head, yes and Bucky lays them down and tucks them in. He lays down next to them. Y/N clung onto Bucky's arm while drifting off to sleep.

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

trick or treat! :3

as far as i can tell we don't share fandoms. i dont rememebr when we became mutuals. i mean ur a FIXTURE in my notes now i cant imagine tumblr without you but. i dont know what to do in this situation.

uhhh okay. i just glanced through my drafts and heres something nonfandom i wrote while i was on an airplane to visit family in Oregon and then never posted anywhere.

My dearest friend,

How has Oregon been treating you? I suppose the question is extraneous, for as I pen these words I am currently thirty eight thousand feet above the ground, and I suspect I will reach you well before this letter does, though I hope, regardless, that it finds you well. I write to you from the cabin of an airfaring vessel, maintained by the American Airlines shipping company. The crew of this vessel is myself, the captain, his first mate, and two attendants, accompanied by some thirty-odd passengers, though there is room for dozens more. We are en route to Dallas, for the line to meet you in your home is at best indirect and, perhaps more accurately, greatly circuitous. Still, the inconvenience is nothing compared to the pain of being without you, and thus I undertake the journey with hope in my heart. I heard that you have little experience with travel aboard such vessels, and as such I thought you may find it interesting to hear of some of the things my eyes and ears have captured during my journey.

Where to begin? I think you would garner some amusement from meeting the attendant for our section of the vessel. I admit his name escapes me at present, though I have, against my will, learned a good many other details about the man. He is fifty-one years of age, and this is but his sixth day with the company, and the first outside his homeland of Texas. It is also the greatest altitude that a flight of his has achieved, and he is brimming with excitement, enough so that he has disregarded some of the company's regulations for the crew's safety. He also fears for his health, for the physicians describe his solid build as "morbidly obese," and many of the men of his family perished of a heart condition before they reached their sixtieth year. There is still some hope within him, however, as his mother is ninety-seven and, according to him, in fine fettle.

My fellow passengers are an odd lot. Despite the infection that, at present, continues to plague us, I appear to be the only one on board taking the minimum precautions to limit the spread of disease, and I worry that illness will befall us upon reaching port. Still, they have their charms, particularly the gentleman seated beside me; though he did not offer me his name, we have made pleasant conversation on the state of our travels. I told him of my plans to see your side of the nation, and he told me he was on much the same sort of mission, for he has family in California he has not seen in some years. He is an amusing travel companion and I have no regrets for having spoken to him, though from the occasional off-color remark I suspect that we would come into conflict should our friendship continue.

The most striking feature of the journey, of course, is the views of the landscape from above. Even from a great distance it is possible to see with some detail, and I happily observed my old hometown for some minutes as we ascended. It is striking the perspective it gives you; the lakes and grounds are neatly divided, not into perfect squares but into shapes still regular enough to tell that they were sculpted not by the Lord's hand but by ordinary men. The only feature of the landscape that retained its irregularity was the mighty Ohio, which snakes across the Earth uncaring, indifferent to our plans for the world. Of course, a good deal of the land was set aside for farming, and thus presented the image of a patchwork quilt when viewed from sufficient height.

The trip's greatest splendor has become apparent now that we have reached our cruising altitude, however, for now we cut our way through the clouds. While the gray and windy conditions of our travel has created some unfortunate rockiness to the journey - severe enough that I have not been able to exit my seat for the duration - it does create the illusion of total blankness outside our window, a pure white void, as if the world were an artist's canvas, and all he chose to draw was the wing of one plane. I cannot express how jarring this effect was to witness firsthand; the eye accustoms itself to seeing such solid emptiness in paintings and pictures, but the disbelief upon seeing it with one's own eye is difficult to describe.

There were areas in which we reached a delta between the clouds, and from here I gained a newfound appreciation for the magnitude of the skies. As I gazed down to the earth, I saw a cloud so far below us that to fall onto it, were it solid, would still shatter every bone in the body as if falling from a large cliff face. This cloud itself was suspended an impossible distance above another cloud, dipping suddenly downward, a sheer drop to rival the greatest canyons; and at least twice again that distance below the clouds was the Earth itself. When I looked up, there were at least that many clouds above us as well; there were, in fact, enough that I could not see the end of them, and for all I know they had no end. How I marvel at the men who brought the human race into the skies that we might explore such vast, untouched brilliance for ourselves!

There are some five hours remaining before I will arrive in Oregon with you, but I treasure the thought that I will soon be at your side. Until then, I will hold you in my thoughts. Give my best to dear Delilah as well.

Until next time, my dear friend.

[kuuderekun]

Shy and Superhero Anime

One topic I talked about on this blog a few years ago is how as someone who was an American Comic Book Nerd for ages before Anime took over my brain, the Anime that to me have a similar appeal to my favorite DC Universe stories are the not the ones explicitly drawing on American Superhero aesthetics like My Hero Academia and One Punch Man but rather shows like Code Geass, the Raildex franchise, Detective Conan/Case Closed, and I’d now add Durarara! which I watched this year, twice now.

However starting with the Fall of last year a new Superhero Anime has entered the fray, Shy who’s second season is currently airing.

While HeroAca and OPM put the aesthetic trapping of American Comic Book Superheroes onto a show that is essentially a conventional Battle Shonen, with Shy it is the Magical Girl Warrior subgenre putting on Western Superhero clothing.  That actually works far better because the Magical Genre has its origins in part in western Superhero influences. 

Naoko Takeuchi has admitted to being partly inspired by Wonder Woman in creating Sailor Moon, something the recently re-adapted final arc makes more obvious with the Bracelets plot point.  But there’s also the additional indirect influence from how the Transforming Tokusatsu Superhero genre was inspired by Shazam and the 60s Batman show and so forth.

So Shy kind of winds up feeling the Genre returning to its roots in some ways.

90s Magical Girl Warriors like the Sailor Scouts and Wedding Peach wear costumes that fit in with how we typically think of American Superhero Costumes from the Golden, Silver and Bronze ages in that it would not feel inaccurate to describe them as some form of “tights”.

Today however your default parody of a standard Magical Girl is more likely to be wearing a frilly or fluffy dress of some kind and that is a largely the influence of Pretty Cure which in Japan has long surpassed Sailor Moon as the most popular Magical Girl franchise, (but it's Anthology nature means no single team has had as many canonical adventures as the Senshi).

And so Shy wearing a Western Superhero style costume coincidentally looks more like a 90s Magical Girl then any new Magical Girl franchise we’ve seen in 20 years.

But Shy is not completely removed from the history of the Magical Girl, it definitely shows some influence from the Post Madoka era of the genre, with what the villains are doing reminding me of Daybreak Illusion more than anything else.

The main difference between Shy and other Magical Girl shows, in fact the main reason it’s probably not officially going to be considered one is that there are Male Superheroes.  Of course the Nanoha franchise also had males who had essentially the same abilities.  The British Superhero keeps reminding me of the antagonist of Superman Vs The Elite for some reason.

All of this kind of makes Shy the antithesis of how I’ve been thinking about the 2008 OVA School Days: Magical heart Kokoro-Chan.

As one of the very few American Otaku who loves School Days both unironically and not because I view it as some kind of “deconstruction” I was very curious to see what it’s take on the turn the little sister character into a Magical Girl spin off trend would be.  And what I got kind of confused me.

First it starts off by also having a sort of Sentai parody, which would be cool enough.  But then we get to this classroom scene where everyone starts talking about Superheroes.  And Makoto and Sekai started saying things that sound like J. Jonah Jamenson, in my head I was like “I dedicated one of the most overly long posts on my blog to defending you two and this is how you repay me?”.  Then Setsuna starts talking and I think “finally my Waifu will bring some sense to this” and then she starts spouting a “Superheros cause Villains” monologue.

Basically this Magical Girl Parody decided to have the metatextual commentary of a Western Superhero Comic.  In Magical Girls shows and Super Sentai the villains come first and the heroes are a reaction to them, the exact opposite of what Setsuna just said.

[bohemian-nights]

You know it’s always “Rhaenyra deserved better from Daemon” or “Laena deserved better from Daemon” even sometimes “Nettles/Mysaria deserved better from Daemon” but it’s never “Rhea Royce deserved better from Daemon.” I’m not sure when it became a popular headcanon that Rhea Royce was in her 40s forcing a seventeen year old Daemon (who is a Prince) to marry her but that’s simply not true. We are never told what age Rhea Royce was when she married Daemon. One would assume to she was either his age or a year or two younger. And even if she was older than Daemon I seriously doubt she was the one pushing for the marriage and probably just like him was being forced to marry as well. Then the wedding roles around and he’s just a horrible drunken mess. In the years following Daemon is openly disrespectful to her, her house, and their marriage. He calls her his “bronze b!tch” and never once did anything nice for her or said anything nice or even attempted to make them work. Book wise after all that happens and when she does die he shows up and tries to take over her title. Show wise he actually kills her. I get we don’t get much of anything about her but still. If it’s one thing Viserys and Daemon had in common it was treating their first wives like sh!t and playing either a direct or indirect role in their death.

I don’t actually think most of the concern regarding Nettles is genuine(and I’ve only seen like five people like Mysaria, she’s pretty much irrelevant to most of the fandom), but I won’t lie the hate for Rhea Royce to the point where Dumbnyra stans are making her out to be the villain because she somehow forced this young boy to marry her is one of the most bizarre things I’ve seen come out of this fandom🫠

The headcanon that she’s way older than Daemon makes zero sense. True enough we do not know Rhea’s exact age, however, F&B constantly talks about the age differences between couples(Corlys and Rhaenys, Alysmond, Dettles, Dumbnyra, etc.)

You would think that the man who was calling her ugly, a b*tch, and comparing her to an animal would’ve called her old too if she were old enough to be his mother 🤷🏽‍♀️

And if someone is going to use the show to say she’s older than him in what world is this woman older than Daemon🙃:

Young boy where? 40 year old(I guess she’d be 50 by then) woman where? 🙃

Once again they are literally making sh*t up.

One really has to ask have these people even read the books because it’s Daemon’s grandmother who arranged their marriage.

And were they actually paying attention to the show because in the first episode they state that Aemma is the one who arranged the match🙃

Both in the show and the books Daemon spends most of his time married to Rhea away from her either in Kings Landing, a brief stint on Dragonstone, or at war. He even takes a mistress(Mysaria) so it’s not like Rhea is able to restrict his personal freedom. Essentially they are married on paper only.

The divorce rock thing is a show invention, but Daemon wasn’t exactly nice to Rhea in the books(he calls her a b*tch for Chris’s sake). He wasn’t a good husband to her.

So if Rhea isn’t that much older than Daemon, isn’t the one who arranged the match, or forces him to stay in the Vale then how the hell is she the big bad villain in Daemon’s story?

I’m a Daemon lover(which is why I’m not going to be tagging this post anti-Daemon), but you can admit when a character you love is in the wrong.

You don’t have to make him into a victim to keep stanning him. Sometimes there’s really no good justification for his behavior. He’s morally gray for a reason. His treatment of Rhea Royce(even in the books) is one of the many moments that shows it.

[a-chip-in-inosukes-nichirin]

Desecration of a Priest

Fandom: Trigun Stampede

Rating: Mature- 18+ only (Minors DNI)

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Nicholas D. Wolfwood/Meryl Stryfe

Tags: Religious Symbolism and Imagery, Religious Trauma, Biblical References, Priest Wolfwood, Ex-Church Girl Meryl, Smut, Unprotected Sex, Hand Job, Priest Kink, Corruption Kink, Hate Fucking then it turns Sweet, Sassy Meryl, Virgin Wolfwood, Brief Overstimulation

Wordcount: 5.5k

Bars and clubs were rife with those searching for salvation they couldn’t find at church.

So why was Nicholas D. Wolfwood there?

Cross-posted from my AO3 account.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meryl clenched the bottle in her hand until her knuckles were white, glaring over the top of her drink at the man across the bar. The dim interior lighting rested warmly on his tanned skin, eyes pools of wet ink behind his dark hair. His rugged appearance drew in the surrounding ladies as if he was a magnet, their vague yet suggestive comments rolling off his back like water while Meryl looked on, temper rising with each moment that passed.

Nicholas D. Wolfwood.

A man of god who happened to be in the one place Meryl didn’t expect him to show up. He belonged at the church behind a pulpit, dark priestly wear buttoned up to his throat. Here at the bar the only indication of godliness wrapped around his neck in the form of a silver chair with a small cross adorning it. It was barely a hint offered to those around him that he was off the market, and yet they still flocked to him, drawn in by his smile. He was suave and charming, after all.

And an asshole.

She’d known Wolfwood when she was a young teenager. He’d been just a bad then too. Their families had met at church, her demure dress choking her despite it’s loose fit when she was first saw him, cheeks flushing. He shook her hand, introduced himself with his full name and a sly cockiness that should have given her pause, claiming he was to be a priest. Meryl’s interest hadn’t been feigned as she attempted to make conversation with him. Each Sunday, she would approach him with an eager nervousness, only to be brushed off a moment later as he called out a greeting to someone else and left her standing alone in her pale dress, stomach dropping into her shiny church shoes. Each indirect rejection was burned into her mind with a branding iron, alongside the cruel words spoken to her out of earshot of the adults.

“Morning, Shortie,” he replied. “I see you’ve gotten into mommy’s makeup again.”

Meryl flushed, putting a hand to her face, suddenly ashamed she had tried her hand at eyeshadow again to impress him.

“Looks like you got punched in the face,” he towered over her, inspecting her face with a cheeky grin. “Still better than that whorehouse look you had a few weeks ago.”

Meryl could feel herself heat up at the memory, and tapped her finger against the dark glass of the bottle in her hand, still directing her venomous glare towards the old acquaintance who’d appeared in her sanctuary. How the man had even managed to get ordained was beyond her. Last she’d seen of him he was still in training, keeping up with coursework by the smallest thread of charisma, something Meryl was sorely lacking at the same age. She’d started losing both it and her faith after one of Wolfwood’s cruel “jokes”.

“You know that letting a boy hold your hand is a sin,” Wolfwood jeered at her from across the hallway in church as Meryl yanked her hand out of Vash’s. The blonde-haired boy had only offered to help her up when she’d tripped over her own feet, and now Wolfwood was mocking her for it.

“Too bad now,” Wolfwood shrugged. “You’re ruined. Guess Vash will have to take responsibility and marry you.”

“He’s just being a jerk,” Meryl mumbled to Vash, face red as a tomato. “Wolfwood!”

Wolfwood ran off cackling, Meryl on his heels, her strides extra-long to accommodate for her short height as she chased him.

“Wolfwood get back here!”

“Oh, no,” he ducked into a room. “I’m being chased by a lecherous woman! Someone help me!”

“Nicholas!”

“Ooh, first name basis now, are we?” he waggled his eyebrows, and it made Meryl’s ears burn. She couldn’t even find the words to scold him, standing with her fists clenched at her side, head down.

It hadn’t just been Wolfwood’s bullying that made her loathing towards church grow and fester. She started questioning the pastors, her parents, and all of the people she’d looked up to once she reached that age where she wanted to know why. When no answers were satisfactory, Meryl began to dig her heels in, pushing the boundaries of what her family and church deemed acceptable. Hair got cut shorter and shorter, rising in tandem with the hem of her dresses and skirts, while her carefully crafted perfect persona began to crumble.

Soon enough, instead of lily-white dresses and frilly socks at church, Meryl found herself wearing black dresses and fishnet tights at bars and clubs. She thought places like those would suit her best; after all, there was no place for her in a church of white wool. She liked the sharp bitterness of alcohol and the ache of debauchery- both sins according to the Bible. Even the acrid smell of smoke was comforting to her now; those with no god apart from booze and nicotine didn’t give a rat’s ass if Meryl’s shoulders were bare, or if she pressed a kiss to the lips of a stranger while intoxicated. Bars and clubs were rife with those searching for salvation they couldn’t find at church.

So why was Nicholas D. Wolfwood here?

Meryl narrowed her eyes, taking a swig from her drink. Didn’t he have a dick-riding appointment with the man upstairs on Saturday nights? He was a priest, wasn’t he? Sitting surrounded by a bunch of horny vixens at the bar didn’t seem to be very godly to Meryl.

Her pissed-off curiosity got the best of her and she hopped off her bar stool, heels clicking as she strode over to Wolfwood. His eyes were drawn to her as she leaned against the counter, posture oozing boredom and irritability.

“The hell are you doing here, priest?” Meryl emphasized the last word. “I thought holy men didn’t frequent sinful places such as this.”

Wolfwood had turned his body to face hers, hand wrapped loosely around his half-full glass. His signature annoying smirk had been plastered across his face and Meryl resisted the urge to smack it off. It was if nothing had changed since she left the church nearly six years ago- Wolfwood’s toothy grin still made her stomach coil in anticipation.

She still wanted him, no matter if he was an asshole; wanted those upturned lips parted in a plea, begging for forgiveness from her instead of god.

“We are to spread the good word to all. And what place needs him more than here?”

“Nowhere needs your god,” Meryl plucked his drink out of his hand, taking a sip while keeping eye contact. Her nose wrinkled. “A mocktail?”

“Why do you seem so surprised?” Wolfwood laughed. “I’m a priest.”

She snorted.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Meryl, my child-”

“Ew, don’t even start,” Meryl made a face. “Do not pull that shit with me. I know who you really are, and it sure as hell isn’t this.”

She gestured to the cross hanging around his neck. Wolfwood put a hand to his chest dramatically. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned three down- a scandalous amount for a priest. She dragged her gaze from the skin peeking through his open top.

“Come on, Meryl,” Wolfwood laughed, resting his cheek on his fist. “What is a girl like you doing in a place like this? You were such a good kid.”

Meryl leaned back against the bar, elbows propping her up as she scowled, crossing one leg over the other on her stool, missing how Wolfwood stole a glance at the skin of her thighs, tracing up her sides until he settled on staring at her lips.

“It isn’t for everybody,” she let out a big sigh. “My parent found god in church, but no matter how hard I looked, he wasn’t there.”

“God isn’t only at church,” Wolfwood smiled, putting a hand on hers. “He’s everywhere. You just have to open your eyes.”

Meryl dropped her gaze to where his large hands covered hers. She’d love to see them pinned above his head as he writhed under her…

“We all have different definitions of god,” she said, pulling her hand away. “Isn’t that right? They said that in a sermon once.”

Wolfwood grinned, appearing eager to talk holiness. His smirk rubbed Meryl the wrong way though, too reminiscent of the times he’s speak cruelly to her. The only difference now was an underlying temperance, a hesitation as if he was holding something back with a caution unlike what Meryl was accustomed to witnessing in the cocky bastard.

“We all have different interpretations of god,” he clarified. “Many might see god the same way, but it is ultimately up to each individual to search out and understand god in their own unique perspective.”

“Well, I have wonderful news for you, then,” Meryl drawled. “Because I have found god in places that you wouldn’t believe.”

“Meryl,” Wolfwood sighed, just catching himself before he rolled his eyes.

“You don’t believe me?” Meryl sat up, frowning. “Just because I find god in a bar or club, that makes me wrong?”

“Sin is in opposition to god,” Wolfwood explained to her.

He was preaching to the choir, and Meryl made a noise of disgust in her throat. It was like he forgot she was raised by religious fanatics.

“This argument could go on all night,” she inspected her nails. “Why are you even here? Honestly?”

Wolfwood’s cheeks darkened under his tan and he tore his eyes away from Meryl, rubbing the back of his neck. That caution was back again, bleeding through his movements even thicker now.

“Especially on a Saturday night,” Meryl leaned forward, well aware that her loose top was falling open a bit in front. “Father Wolfwood.”

He coughed, clearing his throat.

“I was hoping… that maybe I could convince you to come back to church.”

Meryl huffed, flopping back onto the bar with a groan.

“Trying to convert me in my own goddamn house. Will the horrors never end?”

“Meryl-”

“Wolfwood,” she countered, tone mocking. “Did you honestly come out here just to ask me to come back to church? I assume the flirting with those girls earlier was also a conversion attempt? Don’t get ahead of yourself; they only want your dick, not your god.”

Wolfwood, for as personable and self-assured as he was earlier with total strangers, had suddenly grown embarrassed and quiet. It was a nice change from the rude bully Meryl was accustomed to. Maybe now that she was able to snap back it made him think twice about his words. She bit her lip, thinking about how much she’d like to make him uncomfortable- make him squirm. Have him feel out of control and ashamed like he’d done to her all those years ago.

“So… Father Wolfwood,” Meryl’s voice oozed sarcasm as she stole his drink again, watching him from under her dark lashes. “You came out to a bar on a Saturday night just to try to drag me, the prodigal son- or daughter, if you will- back to god. You came out to this ‘cesspit of debauchery’ -as I believe I’ve heard you call it before- for me?”

“Jesus said to leave the ninety-nine sheep to seek out the one lost one,” Wolfwood kept his eyes on hers, as much as they were tempted to drift lower to the pale collarbones underneath.

“What a good priest,” Meryl rolled her eyes. “But you were such an awful boy… how ever did you get through seminary?”

Wolfwood sucked his teeth, leaning forward.

“Prayer and hard work. After you left… I realized it was- I wasn’t helping you. I was supposed to be an example for you, and I messed that up, big time. I cleaned up my act. Haven’t touched a drop of alcohol, smoked a cigarette, swore- nothing. I’ve been a good man,” Wolfwood said earnestly, and Meryl felt a flutter in her stomach at the confession.

“Oh,” her mouth hung open slightly, brows raised in surprise.

I only want to wreck him more now.

“I want to prove to you that I’m better. I’m a man of god,” he reached out, taking her hand.

“Celibacy and all?” Meryl asked, amused.

Wolfwood blushed, stammering.

“W-well of course,” he looked away. “Priests have to be. It’s part of the job.”

“Hm, sounds like shitty deal,” Meryl took a long sip of Wolfwood’s drink.

“I get to shepherd a flock,” Wolfwood said earnestly. “I get to guide the lost to Christ.”

“Ooooh,” Meryl held up her hands, wiggling her fingers. “You get to follow a bunch of stuffy rules and tell people they’re sinners. Sounds like a riot. If I wanted someone up my ass all the time, I’d rather it be the fun way.”

Wolfwood was currently discovering new shades of red for his skin to burn while Meryl ran her mouth, much to her amusement.

“Listen, Wolfwood,” she set his glass down. “I appreciate that you’ve turned your life around or whatever. Good for you. I’m glad it worked out. But this-”

Meryl gestured around her to the music and dim lighting, laughter and drunken calls echoing around the bar in a cacophony of noise that felt almost musical.

“Is where I found myself. Not some hypocritical church. This is my home. This is where I found my god, and it isn’t some rule book.”

“Meryl,” Wolfwood stood, taking her wrist as she tilted her head, eyes lidded.

“I spent my whole childhood trying to find and live up to your god. I’m not going to go back to hating everything about myself.”

“You don’t have to,” Wolfwood said.

“You don’t believe that,” Meryl scoffed. “If you did, you wouldn’t be trying to drag me back to church.”

“I just… I miss seeing you. I feel like I drove you away,” Wolfwood took a deep breath.

Meryl leaned in until her breath fanned against his ear, hearing Wolfwood’s breathing hitch as her fingers toyed with the chair around his neck.

“You sure as hell didn’t make me want to stay.”

She pulled back, flicking the chain out of her fingertips so it rested on his heated skin again.

“You’ve got a chance to change that now.”

“What- how?” Wolfwood asked, eager but wary, hands clenching.

Meryl’s lusty eyes bore into Wolfwood’s dark ones and he swallowed under her intense gaze. He felt like he’d walked straight into the mouth of a lion, Meryl’s eyes calculating and enticing.

“I want you,” Meryl drained the rest of his drink, placing the empty glass on the counter and sliding onto his lap. “So show me how much you want me back.”

“I-I-” Wolfwood’s mouth was opening and closing like a fish, his throat bobbing as he took in Meryl’s bare shoulders and full pout, the hollow between her small breasts, slinky dress barely covering them. “I’m a priest, Meryl.”

“Yeah, and?” she traced a finger along his jaw.

And I’m going to ruin you.

“I can’t do this. I-I’m bound by oath to remain, ah, pure…”

“Oh, I see,” Meryl slid off his lap with a sigh, not bothering to tug her dress down as it rode up, teasing a peek at the curve of her ass. “Well, enjoy the rest of your evening, Nicholas.”

Meryl stalked away, praying her bluff would work. She needed him to come after her, needed him to be the one to chase her. She was playing a delicate game of cat and mouse. If she made the wrong move, she’d lose Wolfwood and wouldn’t get what she wanted.

“Meryl! Wait- please, hang on-”

Meryl continued out of the bar without looking back; her stride brisk.

“Meryl- Meryl!”

“You’ve made yourself clear, Wolfwood,” she called without turning, still keeping her pace. “I won’t bother you again. Go back to your precious flock.”

“You are my flock!”

“I am nothing of the sort!” Meryl felt herself puff up, spinning on her heel to face him without meaning to. It took a second longer than she wanted to recompose herself. “I’m the wolf in sheep’s clothing, don’t you remember?”

She laughed harshly and huffed, hailing a taxi with one hand as the words she’d heard whispered behind hands at church played and echoed inside her mind.

Just watching out for the other children, my ass, Meryl scowled. They just didn’t like that I asked them hard questions they couldn’t answer.

Wolfwood caught her hand, staring into her crystalline eyes. His expression was more serious, hard around the edges as he opened his mouth.

“Meryl, God-”

“I don’t give a shit about your god,” Meryl shook him off as the taxi pulled up. “And until you’re willing to accept that, we’ll never see eye-to-eye.”

She released him, ducking into the taxi and crossing her legs, giving her address to the driver. Wolfwood slid in next to her, brows furrowed. Meryl was surprised her tactics were working as well as they were- it was like she had him on a leash.

“Father Wolfwood, whatever are you doing?”

“Drop it,” he growled as the taxi darted into traffic. “Look Meryl, I’ve been doing my damn best to try and apologize-”

“Is that what all of that was?” Meryl crossed her arms. “Because it felt like you were trying to coerce me into going back.”

“I know I was a dick when we were younger,” he admitted, and Meryl noticed how his speech was starting to slip back into the careless flippancy she remembered. “I want to make it right. I’m trying to be better.”

“You cursed,” Meryl commented blandly.

“Oh fucks sake,” he snapped. “Is that all you care about?”

“What I care about-” Meryl yanked him down to her level by his shirt. “-is you getting it through your thick-ass skull that not everything is about you and your god.”

She let go of the priest’s shirt, giving him a light shove as she did so. Wolfwood blathered on, words falling on deaf ears. Meryl was thankful she didn’t live too far from the bar and that the taxi driver was confident (Wolfwood called it “reckless”). She paid the fare as it rolled to a stop, thrusting cash at the man before digging out her keys as Wolfwood stumbled after her to her apartment. She just needed him to follow her a little further- past her threshold of her door... Meryl moved to slam it in his face, but Wolfwood stopped it with one hand, forcing the door open as she tried shutting it.

“Listen, Shortie,” he snapped, following her inside. “I’m trying to atone for all the stuff I did, okay? I’m trying to apologize and-”

“Atone?” Meryl spun around to face him. “You want to atone? Apologize? Make up for how shitty you treated me? You know how I felt, right?”

Wolfwood allowed himself to be forced back onto the couch, dumbfounded by Meryl’s sharp words.

“Or were you truly oblivious to everything? Either way you treated me like shit.”

“Meryl-”

“Don’t ‘Meryl’ me!” she snapped, pushing him down as she climbed onto his lap, taking hold of his collar with both hands.

She crashed her lips into his, his hands coming up in surprise, twitching before lowering to her hips, gingerly caressing the plush of her thighs like he was touching the Tree of Knowledge for the first time: reverent and afraid god would smite him. Meryl’s tongue pressed into his mouth, drawing a surprised, muffled groan from the man beneath her. Their noses bumped in a feverish desperation, teeth and tongue and lips melting together as Meryl indulged herself in the most damnable sin with the man who had helped turn her away from god. Breathless and panting, she pulled back to inspect her prize- her prey. Wolfwood was no better, his entire visage burning up as he stared at her in wonder.

“What, is that your first kiss, mister priest?” Meryl’s words were harsh, but her soft tone tempered the words.

Wolfwood’s silence answered for him, and Meryl felt the wickedness in her soul rejoice. She’d stolen the priest’s first kiss- the boy who’d told her that she was dirty and ruined forever because she’d touched another man’s hand: his first kiss.

The man who was supposed to be a celibate priest; pure for his flock, was starting to feel his soul corrupt under the touch of her fingers. His intentions had been pure when he arrived at the bar that night: he was going to apologize and ask Meryl to come back to church, and that was it.

“You have one chance,” Meryl breathed the words against his jaw. “Exactly five seconds starting now to leave, if you want to. One…”

Wolfwood’s hands shook against her body, fingers twitching as he stared dumbly at her lips forming the words- swollen and glossy. Meryl traced her hands down his front, undoing Wolfwood’s shirt one button at a time.

He really shouldn’t be doing this.

“Two.”

He had taken a vow of celibacy for his position. He was already going too far.

His starched white shirt peeled away to reveal a thick chest adorned with dark hair, heaving from the way her lips had ravished his mouth earlier.

“Three.”

He should leave now- leave before the temptations of his flesh controlled him completely. Before he gave into those base urges he’d had towards Meryl since he first met her.

Hands danced across his clenching abdomen with feather-light touches, and Wolfwood groaned, low and raspy.

“Four.”

He was a man of god-

Wolfwood’s glassy eyes watched Meryl in fascination. He couldn’t tear himself away, or even try to make a move when he was so entranced by the way she moved her hands against the planes of his body.

“Last chance, Father Wolfwood,” she reached for the hem of her dress.

Fuck it all.

Wolfwood reached out to help her lift it over her head, revealing small breasts and a smooth expanse of skin beneath the black fabric. A plain black pair of underwear hugged Meryl’s hips, just as soft as her skin under Wolfwood’s hands. He marveled that even the silk robes at the church didn’t feel as rich as the curve of her hips.

“Five.”

Meryl shoved him down, a cruel, delighted look lighting up her face. Wolfwood had never seen something so beautiful before. Her fingers caressed his face as her mouth moved against his, leaving him thirsty for more. He could feel her hips on his groin, rolling down on the tent in his trousers, providing him with blessed friction.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” Meryl’s lips dragged down his body. “Have to be; for god.”

The word was spit with contempt, and Wolfwood could feel shame creeping up his chest as Meryl freed him from the confines of his pants. It excited him, though; he groaned at the feeling of her small hands rubbing him through his boxers.

It was foreign to have someone else touching him. Wolfwood had urges, and he wasn’t above taking care of his own needs, even if it left him feeling a bit guilty, but he reasoned it was fine, since it was just him. He was still celibate, technically. Now, he wondered how anyone wanted to be a priest when they had to give up this.

Meryl wasted little time in removing his boxers, leaving him stark naked on her couch, the only clothing she still wore covering the part Wolfwood was desperate to see.

“How does it feel?” Meryl purred, pleased with the way Wolfwood’s cock jumped in her hand. The priest bit his lip.

“M-Meryl,” Wolfwood panted, feeling his stomach coil.

He arched up into her touch, holding back a whine. Her pace increased in speed, leaving Wolfwood digging his hands into the couch, battling pleasure and shame.

“You’re supposed to be pure for god,” Meryl laughed from between his legs. “And here you are; getting stoked off by a sinner.”

The realization washed over him like a bucket of cold water, and he wanted to tell her to stop, but his body betrayed him as he let out a gasp, curling forward with a moan and burying his hand in her hair as the tension in his loins mounted. He panted, shame burning on his face as he let out a throaty cry, coming with a jerk in Meryl’s delicate yet firm grip.

“Well?” Meryl lifted her hand up, showing Wolfwood his spend all over her hand as he came down from his high. “How does it feel to be a sinner like the rest of us?”

Embarrassment colored his face and Wolfwood tried to scowl, but the orgasm had his head reeling. He could only snap out an awkward accusation.

“Is this your god? Sex?”

Meryl cleaned his seed off her hand with her tongue, not breaking eye contact until she finished. Wolfwood’s humiliation melted away as his throat went dry at the action, unable to focus on anything except her tongue pressed against her own skin, lapping up the evidence of his sin. She showed him her mouth before swallowing it down, face changing from pleased to sadistic satisfaction.

“I am my own god,” she straddled him. “And I’m about to be yours too.”

Wolfwood’s eyes widened as she positioned herself over him, her underwear having disappeared at some point. The sudden warmth surrounding him as she drove her hips into his short-circuited his brain, hands scrabbling for purchase.

“M- ah! Meryl!”

“Isn’t this kind of worship much more enjoyable than your boring recitations?” she braced herself with her hands on either side of his head.

He didn’t want to admit it, but Meryl was right. The way she clamped around him made him heady in a way that prayer never could, and the chant of her name falling from his lips as he jerked and cried out felt more natural that the memorized songs he raised to heaven each week.

“I want to ruin you,” Meryl forced him to look her in the eye. “Until you can never show your face in that goddamn church again.”

Wolfwood’s indignant reply was cut short by the slap of skin and welling of pleasure in his stomach and chest, his body tensing and rippling as he squirmed.

“You can start your apology by begging.”

“Be-begging?” Wolfwood had enough coherence for a question. “For what?”

Meryl lifted her hips until Wolfwood’s tip was just barely brushing her folds, entirely out of her heat. He writhed, ashamed as he ached to feel her again. The message was clear. He didn’t want to give into her demands- he was embarrassed enough with the whole situation- but she was like a drug. She’d always been his drug, ever since they met. Why he said all those stupid things as a teen was beyond him. This was what he’d wanted all along, Wolfwood thought ashamedly.

“Please,” his voice was hoarse. “Please, god-”

“You’re not asking god,” Meryl grabbed his jaw. “You’re asking me.”

Wolfwood’s eyes were glazed over with want, and Meryl felt a prick of pride. She released his face, watching his thick chest heave with exertion.

“Please, Meryl, please-”

“Please what?”

Wolfwood searched his rapidly blanking mind for an answer. Was he supposed to apologize or ask for her to continue? Did it matter? He just wanted her closer to him, fucking him until he couldn’t remember his own name.

“Please don’t stop,” he swallowed. “I’m sorry- sorry for everything.”

Meryl dropped herself down onto him again, reveling in the way his face contorted in pleasure.

“Keep begging or I’ll stop.”

Wolfwood’s eyes threatened to roll back in his head as his hands clutched her hips, trying to assist her in moving up and down. Meryl decided against smacking them away, choosing instead to brace herself with one hand against his stomach, which was surprisingly solid.

“I’m- I’m sorry for- ngh! For the way I treated you back th- ah!”

Meryl snapped her hips, enjoying the way Wolfwood struggled to speak with each rise and fall of her body. When he paused, panting, Meryl slowed to a stop, watching the despair build behind his desperate, feverish gaze.

“Please keep going, fuck, Meryl, please-”

Wolfwood’s entire world was condensed down to the way Meryl felt around him, the way the heat rolled off their bodies in the cool apartment air, and the shame and desire filling his stomach. He’d never felt more at home then this moment; buried in the cunt of the woman who plagued his dreams and fantasies.

“Fuck, Meryl, you feel so g-shit! Fuck, don’t stop- please oh g-ngh!”

“Tell me, Nicholas,” Meryl’s breath was coming shorter and shorter as her leg muscles began to cramp. “Tell me who your god is.”

“Meryl!” Wolfwood’s back arched up as he groaned, his orgasm hovering just beyond reach. “Meryl!”

“Is that how you cry out to your god?” Meryl drove her hips down. “Do you say his name so irreverently?”

Wolfwood clawed desperately for something to hold to as his entire body shook, convulsing with a force so great that he wondered if perhaps god had chosen to smite him for his sins.

“Meryl!” Wolfwood’s cry tore from his throat, sounding like a plea and prayer, a desire and need all rolled into one.

That was the sound she wanted to hear: desperate, needy, fully devoted to her, even if only for the moment. Meryl’s cunt enveloped Wolfwood’s pulsing dick, swallowing each twitch and jerk as he came inside her. Wolfwood’s voice fell to a vague murmur as his eyes closed to revel in the dopamine, lips parted as air rushed past them as his breath evened out.

Meryl gave him a few seconds to enjoy it before she started moving again, ignoring the pain in her legs. She’d just ruined the man she’d both wanted and resented for years, and he’d barely even apologized. Like hell she was going to stop now.

“Ah-wait!” Wolfwood’s raspy voice sounded almost pained as he grabbed her arm. “Too- no more, please, Meryl!”

“I thought you were going to atone?” Meryl stared down her nose at him, eyes dark with vindictive desire.

Terror and excitement welled in Wolfwood’s gut and he slowly let go. He had said that, and although this wasn’t exactly what he’d planned for, he wasn’t going to argue with her- to hell with his celibacy and priesthood. He could cross that bridge later. For the moment, he just wanted to stay here with her; to stay enveloped in her heat and fiery passion even if it blackened his soul with sin.

“Well, Nicholas?”

Wolfwood reached one shaky hand up to caress Meryl’s stomach, up her chest until he reached her face. Meryl’s eyes widened in shock, her harsh mask falling away as the priest rubbed a thumb across her lip, entranced by the way her cheeks heated and flushed like they used to when she was younger and he teased her. His chest tightened with regret, knowing that he could have kept her close even if she left the church if only he hadn’t been so flippant and careless. Even if his feelings of shame and desire were twisting into something he couldn’t name or understand, he just wanted to dig both of his hands into her hips and pull her closer, to beg for her to absolve him and let him stay here for the night- for every night.

“If I can earn your forgiveness, then I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Wolfwood pushed himself up, Meryl falling onto her back under him, positions flipped. He mouth had dropped open into a pretty little ‘o’, and Wolfwood pressed chaste, gentle kiss to her lips.

“I’ll beg at your altar until you take all my sins,” he brushed a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. “Until I’m fully yours. Just tell me what you want from me.”

“I…” Meryl was suddenly unsure, her heart fluttering like a bird in her chest.

She was supposed to be in charge. She was the one reeling him in, debasing and defiling him until he wasn’t worthy to be a man of god. Meryl reached up to tangle her hands in Woflwood’s hair, the realization of what she truly wanted finally dawning on her.

“I want to ruin you until your god won’t take you back,” she traced his jaw. “I hate him, and I hate that he has you and I don’t.”

Wolfwood’s face hovered inches above hers, humid breath mixing with hers as his lidded eyes were swallowed by want. Meryl cradled his cheeks with her hands, pressing a kiss to his lips with closed eyes. There was no malice or anger behind the movement this time as their mouths moved slowly, hungrily against each other. Hands tugged gently at each other, eager but not demanding. Lips separated to swallow air, both of them heady with the sudden whiplash of tenderness and sincerity. Wolfwood looked down at Meryl, dazed but content.

“So… you don’t like sharing?” he grinned.

Meryl’s voice was a whisper as she pulled him back down to her.

“I am a jealous god.”