#strong black heroines

[thisismisogynoir]

If you don't adore Halle Bailey then what are you even doing. 😍

[shoujo-dump]

Heroine Hajimemashita

[cringecompanionapologist]

Enlightenment Novelization Post 2: What Turlough Fears and What Turlough Wants

The cool thing about novelizations is that you can actually get inside the heads of characters and be directly told what they're thinking and feeling. We get a lot more of Turlough's perspective throughout the novel, and we learn how he sees what's going on. Through this, it's very clear that Turlough's entire worldview is based around fear.

I've got a lot about one of the early scenes. The Doctor and Turlough explore the ship they've landed on and meet some sailors. In the televised version, Turlough seems a bit uncomfortable, but he just sort of rolls with things. When the Doctor is mistaken for the ship's cook (old sailor slang apparently) he laughs. In the novelization, the same doctor=cook joke is made, but the Doctor just explains to Turlough what's going on, teaching him the local slang, and Turlough is pretty quiet throughout it. He's more uncomfortable in the novel than in the show.

This is the point where I throw in some screenshots:

The sailors aren't particularly hostile at any point, but Turlough's intimidated by them, just because they look tough. That sort of makes sense, especially since they're also strangers and Turlough isn't familiar with their culture and doesn't really know how to talk to them. But, it continues:

It honestly seems like the sailors never intended to be that mean. They're teasing the new guy a little. But, Turlough expects to be bullied and decides the Doctor's presence is why they were nice, as if the Doctor had any power over this group of sailors. Yeah, they think he's a cook and they've been waiting for him, but if there was a serious fight, the Doctor probably wouldn't be able to deescalate with that alone. But, in comparison to how he thinks of himself, Turlough seems to see the Doctor as his big, strong protector who can make the bullies stop.

The Doctor has to leave Turlough for a bit. He feels safe around the Doctor. At this point in his arc, he doesn't seem to feel safe around anyone else. Though, by the time the Doctor leaves, Turlough isn't afraid of the sailors anymore. He's been integrated into their group now and they seem him as one of them.

Now we get to the Black Guardian. Turlough thinks he needs the Black Guardian to survive in this situation. I'm really not sure why at this point. Maybe it's because the Black Guardian is the most powerful being he's come into contact with. No one could threaten the Black Guardian, so Turlough wants to be under his protection. So, Turlough spends the story going back and forth between the Doctor and the Black Guardian as protectors, eventually siding with the one who is better at keeping him safe. The Black Guardian is more powerful, but he asks for a lot in return, while the Doctor's support is unconditional.

Power isn't everything. That's sort of the lesson Turlough learns here. He is eventually given a choice between power and the Doctor. We see what goes through his head as he chooses between the diamond and the Doctor.

Turlough is scared all the time. He's been bullied and is afraid of being bullied again. He thinks he wants to become so powerful that no one would dare bully him, but what he really wants isn't power. He just wants to be safe. Earlier, with the whole vacuum shield incident, the Black Guardian has the power to save Turlough, but he doesn't. The Doctor saves Turlough. It isn't a matter of power, but a matter of choice. The Doctor is the better ally because he chose to save Turlough.

And Turlough wants an ally, a protector. He doesn't want to not need anybody. He wants someone he can rely on when he needs someone. That's the choice he makes.

[mswyrr]

One of the most important bits of dialogue in hotd is from Viserys in 1x01:

"The idea that we control the dragons is an illusion. They're a power man should never have trifled with. One that brought Valyria its doom. If we don't mind our own histories, it will do the same to us."

This is a man who bonded with Balerion, The Black Dread, the oldest dragon who had actually hatched in Old Valyria. This was the same dragon who flew Princess Aerea, a 12-year-old girl who bonded with him, back to Valyria against her will - sickening and killing her in the process (Fire & Blood, p 263). The little girl was away from her home at the time and probably feeling "I want to go home" but what Balerion did with that feeling killed her. His will was strong and his memory was *deep*.

Viserys only rode him one time, his inaugural flight, and then never again. IMO he experienced something bonding with that ancient beast that--in addition to studying the family's history and Valyrian lore--convinced him of the danger and fundamentally uncontrollable nature of dragons.

It is totally in keeping with canon events that Vhagar, in the current timeline the most ancient dragon alive--a dragon who drank deep of bloodshed and war with Visenya during the Conquest and *likes* war--translated Aemond's anger at Lucerys into murder of the boy and his small dragon. It is perfectly in keeping with what the show has been saying since episode 1.

An ancient, powerful and wilful dragon overcoming the will of its rider is *literally canon*. Princess Aerea must have been terrified during the whole, long flight to Valyria, and yet all her protests couldn't stop the dragon she'd bonded to.

I would also say that the Valyrians turned magical creatures, dragons, into weapons of warfare - that the dragons, in that sense, represent war. And the show is imo fundamentally antiwar - so here war is something you cannot control. GRRM has said the dragons are "nukes," which fits with this reading:

“Dragons are the nuclear deterrent, and only [Daenerys Targaryen, one of the series’ heroines] has them, which in some ways makes her the most powerful person in the world,” Martin said in 2011. “But is that sufficient? These are the kind of issues I’m trying to explore. The United States right now has the ability to destroy the world with our nuclear arsenal, but that doesn’t mean we can achieve specific geopolitical goals. Power is more subtle than that. You can have the power to destroy, but it doesn’t give you the power to reform, or improve, or build.” (source)

War and nukes - you cannot aim them only at the guilty, only at those you hate; you cannot prevent them from consuming the innocent as well. They a raging fire that consumes, that is all. And so, on that level, I just adore what they're doing and how it all fits together.

Aemond's domestic violence fits too - boys go to war thinking it will be honorable and manly and they'll protect "their women" but instead come home and hurt those very women. This thing burns and burns until it is exhausted, and it doesn't stay contained, not within you or outside you. "So it goes," to steal a phrase from antiwar writer Kurt Vonnegut.

The reason I keep coming back to my antiwar reading of the show is that things that people dismiss as "bad" or mock actually come together beautifully if you don't expect to war to be glorious and masterful and heroic. If you take the text seriously, in terms of what the dragons are metaphorically and what characters have outright said about their fundamentally uncontrollable nature. The lore supports what Vhagar did! That she could overcome a teenaged human's will with her century old bloodlust.

[joels6string]

home

RE4R Leon Kennedy x f!reader

Leon's home from Spain and the only thing he needs is a familiar face.

18+ only MDNI

content: a little hurt/comfort, established relationship, unprotected p in v, oral f!receiving, creampie word count: 3k

There were fewer things in life more pleasant than the feeling of a warm mug clutched against your palm, a thick, fuzzy blanket in your lap, and a book resting on your thighs. Your fingers are flicking at the corner of the page as you took in the words written so elegant yet simple on the page, transporting you to world’s beyond. It’s raining, and the brisk autumn air begins to nip when the sun sinks below the horizon, but you’ve been nestled totally content in your home since well before the light had begun to dwindle. Dinner was forgotten after a quick shower to scrub the day off your skin, the world so colorfully illustrated in black and white sucking you in too far for you even to feel the passage of time. 

Heroes and heroines, love stories and daring rescues, it isn’t your usual genre, but after enough recommendations you’d decided to give it a try, swallowing your pride to admit the praise was well earned to your friends when they asked. 

Knock knock

The sound of a fist slamming brutally against your door has your heart skipping as you squeak in shock, your eyes shooting to your clock to find it was nearing 1 AM, a time well beyond acceptable visiting hours. Another two bangs, and your spine goes rigid with fear.

“Are you home?” Even through the door, the sound of that slurred voice has your terror ebbing and annoyance flowing in its place. “Can you open the door? Please?”

Though you already know who it is, you peek through the small round glass, a mess of dirty blonde hair hunched against the doorframe greeting you. Muttering under your breath, you undo the chain, wrenching the door open hard enough to have none other than Leon S. Kennedy toppling over face-first at your feet.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you spit, your tone laced with so much venom even you feel its poison.

“Just needed to see you,” he practically whines, groaning against your cheap wooden floors.

“We’re not doing this, Leon. I told you, I’m done.”

“Please, Bug.”

“Don’t call me that.”

It’s almost embarrassing watching him try to stand, the thick arms that usually sweep you off your feet with ease barely able to push himself up, his face falling into your stomach as his foot gives way beneath him seconds after getting himself onto one knee. Instinct has you catching him from falling, and he wraps himself around you like a life raft, breathing in deeply as if he’s been trapped beneath the rolling tides and just found the surface. The desperation of it plucks at your pity chord, and your fingers thread into his hair and scrape against his scalp in the way you know he likes, soothing hushes falling from your lips as you cradle him close.

Your past with Leon is tumultuous, he is a man torn in two by the duties he’d sworn to uphold and the one thing that could convince him to give it all up and walk away. You’d met by accident, crossing paths with him at an event and leaving when his eyes as blue as a summer sky had consumed you completely. He was as sweet and playful as he was dark and deadly, and he’s careful to keep that latter side as far away from you as he could. And that quest had begun keeping him away for longer stretches, his ability to lock away the pain and anguish that plagued him beginning to fail. 

Spain had been his last location, he’d told you before he left he’d be overseas for an undetermined amount of time. It had been months. After weeks of checking reports and news articles to see if Officer Leon Kennedy had been killed daily, you’d given up. The thought that maybe he’d lied had passed through your mind, maybe it was his way of finally cutting whatever co-dependent cord that attached you to each other. Someone had to be brave and strong enough to do it, and you were certain that couldn’t be you. But here he is, drunk off his ass and clinging to you with every ounce of strength he has, and whatever his alcohol-induced plan is, you hate to admit it’s working.

You knew he was back, it had been all over the news, “President’s Daughter Saved by Hero!” That happened two weeks ago. Seeing him applauded had made your chest swell in pride until you recalled telling him this drawn-out sham of a relationship was over when he’d brought you the news of his latest assignment. You couldn’t take it anymore, the distance and the secrets, the months away and the lack of contact. It was practically debilitating, but it hadn’t mattered that he wasn’t your concern anymore in those months he was gone. It felt worse than waiting for an email he’d sneak in or a spotty phone call where you could barely make out the words but the sound of his voice still washed over you like a soothing balm. 

It’s why you couldn’t truly be angry now.

“Let’s go,” you finally urge, your tone gentler now, “Bed.”

It takes every bit of your strength to pull him into your bed, whiskey heavy on his breath when he collapses on top of you while mustering enough decency to kick his boots off as he sighs in what must be relief. Your lights are still on, and you’re certain the door is unlocked, but there’s no moving now, he’s too heavy and warm and familiar. You can’t be mad, because then you’d have to admit that you didn’t want this, that you hadn’t thought about the way your mattress just feels more comfortable with his weight dipping it down to the perfect point. It would be a lie. 

“Leon?” you whisper into his hair–it smells like a bar, stale, musty cigarettes and sweat–but he’s already out cold, too comfortable and content in your embrace now to stay awake.

He sees more horrors in a week than most do in their lifetime, and he finds safety here. It’s something you take for granted, especially in the long stretches of his absence filled with solo dinners and lonely nights, but it’s impossible to forget as he’s curled into you as much as his large frame allows, his breathing slow and easy. The familiarity of it drags you under, your eyes drifting closed as your fingers scratch soothingly up and down his spine. 

******

Butter crackles and pops over the hum of your podcast coming through the small speaker beside the sink. Early morning light filters in through the paper shades still drawn in the kitchen, the tiles cool on your bare feet while you chop fruit and various toppings for the omelet you’ve been thinking about making since last night. 

Leon was still in bed, getting out from beneath his heavy body without waking him could be considered your morning workout. He hadn’t moved an inch all night from where he’d fallen asleep pressed to your chest. When your rumbling stomach had become too much to bear you’d had to pull away, despite how little you found yourself wanting to. 

“That smells good,” a sheepish voice calls from the doorway, your head turning to find Leon slumped against the frame scratching the back of his head, his eyes avoiding yours, “I’ll go. I’m sorry for showing up like this. Thanks…for not kicking me out onto the street.”

“You can stay. Just take a shower. I can smell you from here.”

He laughs, his face lighting up enough to wash away the harrowing look he’d been wearing, “You didn’t throw my clothes out onto the curb?”

“I didn’t, actually. I like your shirts.”

“Well, they look better on you anyway.”

Ten minutes later as you plate fruit and omelets and pull two slices of bread from the bag on the counter, you hear him approaching, and you don’t even try to suppress the happy little smile settling on your lips. Flicking the toaster on as you spin, you soak in the sight of him turning into the room that always looks smaller when he’s in it. His hair is still damp and hanging loosely in his face, the shirt that was too tight months ago now on the verge of tearing at the seams when he reaches up to comb his locks out of his eyes. He looks better, the color returning to his face and the glow to the sea glass eyes you’d swam in so many times before. Your throat seizes for a moment when he flashes you a content smirk.

“What the hell happened?” you ask, your breath hitching when his arms cage you against the counter, his lips centimeters from yours. 

“I forgot how pretty you look in the morning,” he whispers, his thumb and pointer tipping your chin up softly. 

He gives you no time to comment on the blatant deflection, his pouty lips pressing to yours as he cups the back of your head, groaning when you reciprocate eagerly. Immediately, your hands find the warm, solid stretch of his chest, your hand falling instinctually to the steady beat of his heart. You’d learned early on that every symphony it beat into your ear as you laid on his chest could be the last, so the gentle taps against your palm are a welcome reminder that he’s still here. The dangers he faced had yet to lay claim.

“Missed you, Bug,” he murmurs against your lips, his nose nuzzling yours.

“Missed you, too,” you finally confirm, his relieved huff of laughter hot on your skin as he sighs in relief, kissing your forehead.

“Still mad at me?”

“Not til the next time you leave.”

“Gonna let me in the house when I get back?”

“If you’re lucky.”

It’s easy to tell he’s trying to control himself, the hardened bulge pressing against your inner thigh giving him away. His lips can’t stop pressing against yours, taking advantage of every pause in the conversation to peck at your still-speaking mouth, your arms finally wrapping around his neck warmly, his head burying into the crook of your neck. You lean your head against him, cradling him in the way you know he loves, his deep, content breaths heating the thin skin of your throat.

“I’m never lucky,” he sighs, and your heart aches for him.

This time is different, and you don’t know why. He always comes back battered and bruised both mentally and physically, but this time seems to have affected him even more than all the others. You don’t ask for details, he won’t tell you anyway, but you know he can work through it here, however slowly.

“You have a key, Leon,” you remind him with a chuckle, threading your fingers into his hair, “You can get in whenever you want.”

“You have to want me here,” he mumbles, “I have my own bed to sleep alone in.”

“I want you here.”

With those words, you pull his head up to stare into his tired eyes. You do want him here, and though your last outburst certainly had given him reason to think you didn’t, you hope he believes you now in the warm, soft realm of your embrace. 

“I want you here,” you repeat, “I want you here. Not there. Do you know what it’s like when you’re away?! I make myself sick, obsessing over the news and…and obituaries…”

You pull away to read the guilt falling over his features. It had come out harsher than you intended to, but the point was made. 

“I love you,” you whisper and then watch as he shatters.

“Saying things like that might make me consider retirement,” he chokes out, closing the space you’d made and leaning his forehead against yours.

“Oh yeah?” you respond, a sultry lilt to your tone as your hand drifts to the waistband of his sweatpants. “And what might convince you then?”

Before he can answer, your hand grips his already stiffened length, the way his breath trembles as you tug slowly sending a surge to your core. It takes him a moment to recalibrate as you drag your hand over him, and when he does, the ease at which he hoists you onto the counter makes you yelp, your arms wrapping around his neck as he wrestles your shorts off your hips. 

As soon as you’re free, you spread your legs wide, ready for his body to notch between them in a perfect fit, but instead, he sinks to the floor. Teeth graze over your inner thighs, just the thought of how close his mouth is makes your cunt clench around nothing but anticipation. Rough hands loop around your legs, pulling you closer to the edge before pressing his lips to your clit and suckling just enough to make you buck up against his face. His hair is soft when you knot your fingers through it and lean back against the cabinet behind you, his tongue probing into your fluttering hole greedily as he seeks to reacquaint with what he’d missed. 

Muffled groans are vibrating against you as he weaves through your slit, lapping at your juices leaking free before petitioning for more at your swollen bundle of nerves. You can see your arousal shining on his face when he pauses to take a lungful of air through a slackened jaw, his eyes as lidded as they were last night under the effect of alcohol. It’s shameless and unhindered the way he takes his fill, not that he was ever very timid before, but this time it feels like he wants and needs more, or maybe like he’d been afraid he’d never get to do this again.

You can already tell he won’t relent until you come on his mouth, so as the coil in your belly winds ever tighter you tug him by the blonde knots in your fist where you need him, enjoying the way he whined against your slick skin appreciatively. Two fingers slip inside you as his lips lock around your nub, curving and pressing the soft patch on your inner wall that has your vision flashing white. Every nerve is standing on edge as you lose control, your toes curling and fingers tugging on his hair hard enough it has to hurt, but he doesn’t stop or protest.

“Leon!” you cry out as you finally release his head to brace yourself on the countertop’s edge, “Lee-hmmm…”

His name is the last coherent word you get out before it’s only feral moans of bliss. You’re so close it’s like a fire burning in your limbs, every muscle tensing as you try to withhold it a little longer to prolong this moment where all you cared about was him and the way he could send you into the stars. When the tip of his tongue pinpoints and stiffens to flick teasingly before he latches once again, that’s all it takes to have the elastic snaps, sending a shockwave from your core all the way to the tips of your fingers, your scream echoing off the counters and windows. He’s satisfied with himself, smiling as he stands and lets your legs fall limply from his grasp, his hands catching your boneless body from slinking down onto the floor.

“M’gonna fuck you now,” he warns, gripping his cock that’s flushed purple and notching at your entrance, your response is nothing more than blind, sloppy kisses as you clean the taste of yourself off of his lips.

Your body welcomes him eagerly, sucking him in on his first thrust to the root. He sighs, gripping your waist to keep you still during the onslaught he’s set to release after you rip his shirt up over his head. Broad shoulders and thick pecs keep your fingers busy as you rememorize every dip and curve of his body, the slapping of skin on skin drowning out the pathetic whines falling from both of you as the sticky arousal leaking from your pussy soaks the patch of blonde hair at his base and drips down his thighs to pool on the waist of his pants he’s pulled down just enough. He’s not gentle, taking everything he needs with every hard piston of his hips, your legs quivering around him as you take every thick inch of him with no resistance. 

Leon wants to slow down, to savor the friction of your silky walls over his dick that’s craved anything but his own calloused hand for months, but he can’t. Not when you’re so wet it takes all his concentration to not slip right out of your gaping hole that’s pulling him in with a vicelike grip. He wants to flip you around and bend you over the counter, take you from behind where he can arch your back by tugging your hair, your ass rippling from the force of his thrusts, but you’re still kissing him so sweetly as he fucks you this hard, his throat currently being lavished by your affection instead of strangled by a monster. And it’s that reminder that sets him over the edge.

Thick, hot ropes of cum fill your cunt as his head falls to your shoulder, his thumb flicking over your clit as he steadies his breath and his cock softens. It doesn’t take long for you to find release once again, gentler this time, quieter than the wildfire of the first and you let it ember as the mix of your releases leaks free, drenching you both and dripping onto the floor. 

When he lifts his head to smile at you, his cheeks are flushed rosy pink, his eyes sparkling like gemstones before he cups the back of your head and kisses you in a silent thanks.

“I, uh, think we burnt the toast,” he chuckles, kissing you again before you can utter an unnecessary apology as the smell of charred bread finally registers, “Good thing I already had breakfast.”

Masterlist

[pynkhues]

I would LOVE to read your analysis of louis as byronic hero as apposed to his reading as gothic heroine. lots of the latter and zero of the former in the fandom.

Sure! Mmm, okay, so –

What are we talking about when we talk about Gothic Heroes?  

When we talk about gothic heroes, we’re really talking about three pretty different character archetypes. All three are vital to the genre, but some are more popular in certain subgenres i.e. your Prometheus Hero may be more common in gothic horror, whereas your Byronic Hero might be more likely to be found in gothic romance. That’s not to say they’re exclusive to those subgenres at all, and there is an argument that these archetypes themselves are gendered (in many ways, I think people confuse Anne being an author of the female gothic with Louis being a gothic heroine, but I’ll get into that later), but this is also not necessarily something that’s exclusive.

Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself, haha, so the three gothic hero archetypes are:

Milton’s Satan who is the classic gothic hero-villain. You can probably guess from the name, but he was originated in John Milton’s 1667 poem, Paradise Lost. He is God’s favourite angel, but God is forced to cast him out of heaven when he rebels against him. As an archetype, he’s a man pretty much defined by his pride, vanity and self-love, usually fucks his way through whatever book or poem he’s in, has a perverted, incestuous family, and a desire to corrupt other people. He’s also defined as being “too weak to choose what is moral and right, and instead chooses what is pleasurable only to him” and his greatest character flaw, in spite of all The Horrors, is that he’s usually easily misguided or led astray. (I would argue that Lestat fits into this archetype pretty neatly, but that’s a whole other post.)

Prometheus who was established as a gothic archetype by Mary Shelley with Frankenstein in 1818. Your Prometheus Hero is basically represented by the quest for knowledge and the overreach of that quest to bring on unintended consequences. He’s tied, of course, to the Prometheus of Greek myth, so you can get elements of that in this character design too in that he can be devious or a trickster, but the most important part of him is that he is split between his extreme intelligence and his sense of rebellion, and that his sense of rebellion and boundary pushing overtakes his intelligence and basically leads to All The Gothic Horrors.

And the Byronic Hero, who as the name implies, was both created by and inspired by the romantic poet, Lord Byron in his semi-autobiographical poem, Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage which was published between 1812-1818. The archetype is kind of an idealized version of himself, and as historian and critic Lord Macaulay wrote, the character is “a man proud, moody, cynical, with defiance on his brow and misery in his heart, a scorner of his kind, implacable in revenge, yet capable of deep and strong affection.” Adding to that, he’s often called ‘the gloomy egoist’ as a protagonist type, hates society, is often self-destructive and lives either exiled or in a self-exile, and is a stalwart of gothic literature, but especially gothic romance. Interestingly too, in his most iconic depictions he’s often a) darkly featured and/or not white (Heathcliff being the most obvious example of this given Emily Bronte clearly writes him as either Black or South Asian), and b) is often used to explore queer identity, with Byron himself having been bisexual.

Okay, but what about the Gothic Heroine?

Gothic heroines are less delineated and have had more of an evolution over time, which makes sense, given women have consistently been the main audience of gothic literature and have frequently been the most influential writers of the genre too. The gothic genre sort of ‘officially’ started with Horace Walpole’s 1764 novel, The Castle of Otranto and Isabella is largely regarded as the first gothic heroine and the foundation of the archetype, and the book opens even with one of the key defining traits – an innocent, chaste woman without the protection of a family being pursued and persecuted by a man on the rampage.

The gothic heroine was, for years, defined by her lack of agency. She was innocent, chaste, beautiful, curious, plagued by tragedy and often, ultimately, tragic. Isabella survives in The Castle of Otranto, but she’s one of the lucky ones – Cathy dies in Wuthering Heights, Sybil dies in The Picture of Dorian Gray, Justine and Elizabeth both die in Frankenstein, Mina survives in Dracula, but Lucy doesn’t. There’s an argument frequently posited that the gothic genre was, and is, about dead women and the men who mourn them, and Interview with the Vampire certainly lends itself to that pretty neatly.

Of course, the genre has evolved, and in particular by the late 1800s, there was a notable shift in how the Gothic Heroine was depicted. The house became a place of imprisonment where they were further constrained and disempowered, she was infantilized and pathologized and diagnosed as hysterical, and as Avril Horner puts it in her excellent paper, Women, Power and Conflict: the Gothic heroine and ‘Chocolate-box Gothic’, gothic literature of this era “explores “the constraints enforced [by] a patriarchal society that is becoming increasingly nervous about the demands of the ‘New Woman’.”

This was an era where marriage was increasingly understood in feminist circles to be a civil death where women were further subjugated and became the property of their husbands. This was explored through gothic literature as the domestic space evolved into a symbol of patriarchal control in the Female Gothic.

Female Gothic vs Male Gothic

Because here’s the thing – the female gothic and the male gothic are generally understood to be two different subgenres of gothic literature.

While there are plenty of arguments as to what this entails, the basics is that the male gothic is written by men, and usually features graphic horror, rape and the masculine domination of women and often utilises the invasion of women’s spaces as a symbol of further penetrating their bodies, while the female gothic is written by women, and usually features graphic terror, as opposed to horror, while delving more specifically into gender politics. More than that though, its heroines are usually victimized, virginial and powerless while being pursued by villainous men.

The Female Gothic as a genre is also specifically interested in the passage from girlhood to female maturity, and does view the house as a place of entrapment, but she is usually suddenly “threatened with imprisonment in a castle or a great house under the control of a powerful male figure who gave her no chance to escape.”

That’s not Louis’ arc, that’s Claudia’s arc twice over, first with the house at Rue Royale, then with the Paris Coven, and Lestat and Armand aren’t the only powerful male figures who imprison her.

Claudia as the Gothic Heroine

Claudia in many ways is the absolute embodiment of the classic gothic heroine. Even the moment of their meeting is a product of Louis’ Byronic heroism – his act of implacable revenge against the Alderman Fenwick which prompts the rioting that almost kills her. She’s a victim of Louis’ monstrousness before they’ve even met, and while he saves her, he arguably does something worse in trapping her in the house with both himself and Lestat, holding her in an ever-virginal, ever-chaste eternal girlhood, playing into Lestat’s Milton-Satan by enhancing the perversion of family and ultimately infantilizing her out of his own desire for familial closeness.

Claudia has no family protection before Louis and Lestat – a staple of the gothic heroine – she is completely dependent on them in her actual girlhood, and again in adulthood, never developing the strength to be able to turn a companion, to say nothing about the sly lines here and there that further diminish and pathologise her (Lestat calling her histrionic, Louis making her out to be a burden, etc.). This is all further compounded again with the Coven, and when the tragedy of her life ultimately leads to the tragedy of her death.  

Louis as the Byronic Hero

Not to start with a quote, but here’s one from The Literary Icon of the Byronic Hero and its Reincarnation in Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights:

“Generally speaking, the Byronic hero exhibits several particular characteristics. He does not possess heroic virtues in the usual, traditional sense. He is a well-educated, intelligent and sophisticated young man, sometimes a nobleman by birth, who at the same time manifests signs of rebellion against all fundamental values and moral codes of the society. Despite his obvious charm and attractiveness, the Byronic hero often shows a great deal of disrespect for any figure of authority. He was considered "the supreme embodiment [...] standing not only against a dehumanized system of labor but also against traditionally repressive religious, social, and familial institutions" (Moglen, 1976: 28).

The Byronic hero is usually a social outcast, a wanderer, or is in exile of some kind, one imposed upon him by some external forces or self-imposed. He also shows an obvious tendency to be arrogant, cunning, cynical, and unrepentant for his faults. He often indulges himself in self destructive activities that bring him to the point of nihilism resulting in his rebellion against life itself. He is hypersensitive, melancholic, introspective, emotionally conflicted, but at the same time mysterious, charismatic, seductive and sexually attractive.”

Louis as he exists in the show to me is pretty much all of those things, and I think to argue that he’s a gothic heroine not only diminishes Claudia’s arc, but robs Louis of his agency within his own story. Louis chooses Lestat, over and over again, he’s not imprisoned by the monster in the domestic sphere, he is one of the monsters who’s controlling the household, including making decisions of when they bring a child into it and when Lestat gets to live in it – he wanted to be turned, he wanted to live with Lestat in Rue Royale, and while there are certainly arguments to be made about their power dynamic within the household in the NOLA era, importantly Louis actually gained social power through his marriage to Lestat, particularly through The Azaelia, he didn’t lose it in the way that’s vital to the story of the gothic heroine.

Daniel Hart even said it in a recent twitter thread about Long Face, but there is an element of Lestat and Louis’ relationship that is transactional, and to me, for that to exist, they both have to have a degree of control over their circumstances and choices in order to negotiate those transactions. Claudia is the one who can’t, she’s the one who’s treated effectively as property, and she’s the one who lacks control over her circumstances.

While you could perhaps argue the constraints of the apartment in Dubai lend more to the gothic heroine archetype, I’d argue it as furthering the Byronic trope again by being representative both of Louis’ self-destruction and self-imposed exile. As Jacob has said a few times, Louis does seem to have known to a degree that Armand was involved in Claudia’s death on some level, and it’s that guilt and misery that has him allowing Armand his degree of control. The fact that Louis was able to leave Armand as easily and as definitively as he was I think demonstrates that distinction too – after all, to compare that ending to Claudia’s multiple attempts to leave the confines of the patriarchal house, both in Rue Royale and Paris, which were punished at every turn – first by her rape, then by Lestat dragging her back off the train, and then by the Coven orchestrating her murder.

Louis gets to leave because Louis can leave, he has both the social and narrative power to, and the fact that he does is, to me, completely at odds with the gothic heroine. Louis can, and does advocate for himself, Louis is proud, moody, cynical. Defiance is a key part of his character, just as his exile from NOLA society due to his race, and his chosen rejection of vampire society in Paris, is. He’s intelligent and sophisticated, travels the world, and has misery in his heart, guilt that eats him up, and self-destructive tendencies. That’s a Byronic Hero, baby!  

[kaylatoonz]

Amy meets everyone but Sonic

I think it would be funny/interesting if Amy doesn’t meet Sonic until the end or near climax of the movie.

From what I can remember from the games, Amy would almost always do something small within the sideline of the story that becomes impactful in the main story. Best example of this is how her interaction between Silver and Shadow both play a part in them switching from antagonist to friends/allies to Sonic and his friends.

If the SCU introduces Amy in the third film I think this would be the best way to go about it if she doesn’t get as much screen time. There could be a side plot where Amy is trying to find Sonic but she meets everyone that has some connection to him instead. Each person she meets she helps/supports them in a small but impactful way that helps Sonic and friends in a big way by the climax or end of the film.

They could give us a taste of Amy’s strengths and feisty nature by showing her teaming up with knuckles (maybe give them a dynamic similar to Sonic X or IDW). Then they can establish her kindness and determination to help those who have been wronged, by showing her helping tails at his lowest point (maybe Amy helps tails in his SA2 arc or help him break sonic out of prison island). Finally, by the climax of the film Amy indirectly helps Sonic in the biggest way possible by reminding Shadow of his promise to Maria which encourages him to aid Sonic in saving the world.

Bonus points if throughout the film there this running gag of Sonic and Amy keep just missing each other.

Amy just left after helping knuckles and wade defend citizens from strange creatures (black arms?)

Sonic: sorry I’m late to the party, I heard from tails that you guys might need some back up

Knuckles: no need little brother we have defeated our new foe with the help of a valiant new ally.

Sonic:?

Wade: yeah your pink girlfriend was a lot of help 😄

Knuckles:*look confuse then thoughtful*

Sonic:… Wade i don’t have a girlfriend why would you assume

Wade: oh she is a pink hedgehog like you and she got really excited when she found out that we know you so sh..

Sonic: Wade you can’t just assume we’re together just because we’re both hedgehogs I don’t even kno… wait! She's a hedgehog too?! And she’s on our side!

Where is she? I gotta meet her! * starts dashing round the battle field*

Wade: as I was just saying you just missed her and she was actually looking for yo..

Sonic: dang it! Maybe I can catch up to her, we could use all the help we can get if we’re fighting that faker. Contact tails for the deets gotta go! * runs off*

Wade: wait sonic she was look for.. and he’s gone

Knuckles: she could be a good partner, they’re both strong and reckless 🤔

Wade: I know right 😄

Amy get held up fighting off /distracting the guards while helping tails break sonic out of prison island

Sonic: thanks little bro I didn’t think I could broke out here on my own.

Tails: your welcome but I can’t take all the credit I had some outside help

Sonic: let me guess pink hedgehog

Tails: yeah you’ve met

Sonic: nope but I’ve heard great things. I seem to just miss her everywhere I go

Tails: *smirks* so the fastest thing alive can’t caught the girl

Sonic:*roll eyes* hardy har har, very funny… is she still around? I really like to meet this new heroine, maybe team up.

Tails: yeah she holding back the guards I can put her on speak if you insist 😏

Sonic: tails😑

Tails: ok ok Hey Amy do you copy?

Amy: yep still here though my hands are a bit full at the moment. How are things on your end? Did you find him? Do you need help?

Tails: yeah everything great I found him , we’re safe and he really interested in meeting you😏 (sonic: tails it’s not like that😠) so we were hoping we can make our escape and meet back at..

Amy: *wham!* That sounds great I.. *fzzzz* I can meet you guy at *fzzz* HEY! You better stay down or I’ll get my hammer and! *fzzz *wham!*

Tails and Sonic: hammer?

Amy: *fzzz* oops…

Tails: what do you mean oops…

* An explosion can be heard from the other end and the build shakes*

Tails: AMY! ARE YOU STILL THERE! ARE YOU OK?!?! AMY PLEASE RESPON-

Amy: I’m ok! I’m ok there’s just a lot more exits then we originally planned so I’m just gonna take one of those * awkward giggles* I’ll meet you guys at *fzzz* *line cuts*

Tails: * sighs in relief* well better luck next time Sonic I don’t think you’ll be catching miss rose any time soon.

Sonic: dang I was really hoping to catch her this time she sounds like a fun gal.

Tails:😏

Sonic: *lightly punches tails shoulder* welp we better make use of Amy’s specially made exits and get out of here.

After Amy reminds Shadow of his promise to Maria and so Shadow joins Sonic in facing the final threat of the film (black arm, bio lizard, metal sonic?).

Sonic: hey shads come to join the party? What changed your mind?

Shadow: your pink friend reminded me of something important…

Sonic: *looks confused for a second before realizing who he’s talking about*

Sonic: no way… she really is something special…😊

Shadow: she is…😌 now let get this over with this only one time thing got that faker😈

Sonic: whatever you say faker😈 now let’s kick some butts.

[pinkthrone445]

hii!! i saw you’re taking requests for smutty stuff.

i was hoping to request a melissa x reader smut. where the reader gets something sexy to surprise mel with

🎄Merry Christmas everyone, smutsanta it's here.🎄

Sorry for not writing so much but the work at the end of the year is crazy. I hope you have beautiful holidays, don't forget to tell those you love how important they are to you. Thank you for the requests your naughty little monsters. Enjoy

-The perfect gift-

Pairing:Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Gender: smut smut smut

Warnlings : (+18) strong words, use of double ended strap, oral.

Summary: You give Mel something seemingly innocent that led them to the perfect night.

One more year that is about to end, Christmas dinner would be the last time you would be at school before a beautiful and well-deserved holiday.

You and your wife Melissa had agreed to participate on the game 'invisible Santa' exchanging gifts with your coworkers, what your wife didn't know was that even though the gift assignment was random, you were her secret Santa and you had thought of a good gift for her.

All week Melissa tried to guess who you got, but you never let her know, saying that the rules of the game were not to tell anyone to make it more fun. Mel knew you were terrible at keeping secrets from her, so she was surprised by your decisiveness in not telling her anything, but that also made her suspect that you were her secret Santa and that's why you didn't want to tell her anything. Either way, you resisted the urge to tell her what your gift was, even when she was driving and your present was in your hands resting on your legs. Melissa noticed that the bag was quite small and light because of the way you held it when you got out of the car, so she didn't imagine what it could be, she just felt the perfume, your perfume that she loved so much, emanating from the small package so she imagined that maybe it was a blouse for her. Although it didn't make much sense because you weren't one to give simple gifts, but well thought out. You even remembered things that others liked that no one else remembered.

When you entered the teachers' room you left the small package with the other gifts and went to greet your colleagues, now your wife's gaze was no longer on the gifts, but on what the dress you were wearing showed, your beautiful legs that were adorned with high black boots to keep you warm on the cold winter night. It wasn't until Barbara distracted her that the redhead stopped staring at you, but her mind didn't stop for a second. It's not that it was a novelty to see you like this, short dress and high boots, after all you had been married for two years now, but it was strange to see you like that at school. When the kids were there, you always wore long pants or dresses that didn't show much, but seeing yourself dressed like that at school was something new that fed your wife's fantasies, which involved slamming you against her desk and rasing your skirt to touch you until you scream her name.

Ava's voice made everyone take their respective seats to exchange gifts, Mel was next to Barbara and you were across the table from her. You smiled a lot when you saw how Eddie gave you a set of legos, specifically one of the Scarlet Witch, your favorite heroine. This year everyone received gifts because you made sure Ava didn't cheat so that more than one person would give her gifts.

When it was Melissa's turn to receive her gift, you handed it to her smiling from ear to ear. The redhead opened the small package smiling at the smell of it, but her face turned to confusion when she saw that it was a large, green, very soft hand-knitted scarf

-"I made it, you always knit things for me, so I learned and I also made you something that could remind you of me when you wear it"-You commented and the redhead smiled stretching out on the table to give you a small kiss on your lips and a great view of her cleavage

-"Thank you, I loved it, you're so cute"-she answered

-"There's a little note as well"-You whispered blushing a little, trying not to stare at your wife's cleavage in front of your co-workers for too long. When Mel saw the note at the bottom of the bag, her eyes became darker than usual and she looked at you like a hungry wolf looks at its prey, the others didn't notice the way her gaze changed, but for you it didn't go unnoticed. No doubt the note had had its effect and she had liked the gift, she no longer saw it as something cute, but as something tempting, because for the rest of the night, the redhead didn't take her eyes off you, wishing she had x-rays to see under your clothes.

A few moments later, everyone had laid down the meals they had brought on the table, along with a good deal of drinks and eggnog. This time, you took your seat next to your wife, who, as soon as you settled down, put her hand on your thigh, where your high boots did not reach and your short dress did not covered. Her hand felt hot on your skin, like the comfortable warmth radiated from a campfire on a cold night, it was something she normally did, to have her hands on your waist or legs whenever you were close, so you didn't think much of it, you almost forgot that her hand was there if it wasn't for her gentle squeezes every time something made her laugh.

You were happy to see everyone gathered for Christmas dinner, at first it was just Barbara and Mel, but it made you happy that they passed on their tradition to everyone else.

The nice moment shared with your co-workers and your wife, plus a few drinks, made you very relaxed listening to others make jokes and tell anecdotes, you even felt a little sleepy, as Mel was going to drive, you didn't worry much about controlling how much you drank.

Your head rested delicately on your wife's soft shoulder, feeling her perfume made you smile and you closed your eyes as you felt the gentle caresses that Mel gave on your thigh. Taking advantage of the fact that your legs were under the table, the redhead took her caresses a little higher, putting her hand under your dress, which made you quickly open your eyes and sit up straight taking her wrist trying to stop her without attracting attention. Your wife just smiled and kept running her hand up your leg, until she nimbly hooked your underwear with her pinky and quickly removed it from your body without the others noticing what was going on. When you realized what had happened, you blushed a lot and stared at her surprised, Melissa just smiled arrogantly looking at you and with your underwear in her hand, she took a quick look at it underneath the table and then she hide it in her bra between her breasts

-"You were right on the note, your underwear matched my scarf, I can't wait to get home and take the rest off you"-The redhead said in a hoarse voice in your ear making you feel chills, leaving your brain not working enough to respond to her.

Since it was winter, and you didn't have any underwear thanks to your wife, a shiver ran through your whole body even though you felt very hot. While the underwear you had was lace and didn't cover much, not having it made you feel very exposed and a little desperate, especially when Mel kept stroking and scratching your thighs. Every damn second that passed, any breeze you felt, or every time your wife talked or laughed, made you more desperate and more restless. Every minute that ran was eternal.

You needed your wife, you had even thought of telling her to come to your empty classroom to help you with your desperation and need. Without you noticing, a small whimper came from your lips from squeezing your thighs so hard while you thought about all the things your wife could do with you

-"Baby, are you okay, do you want to go outside to get some air?"-Mel smiled at you and spoke loudly so everyone could look at you and your needy state, but you needed her too much to think of anything else or feel embarrassed

-"Yes please"-It was the only thing that came out of your lips before you grab your coat and head outside. On the way out you didn't even have time to check if your wife had followed you, that you were already pressed against the wall with her lips on you kissing every inch they could reach. A happy and relieved moan left your lips as you finally felt her kisses and caresses. Her hands were pressed on your hips, your body was attached to her, and her lips and tongue were dancing with yours.

Your legs lost strength when you felt the redhead's hands go down to your ass and squeeze hard drawing a moan out of you. Mel bit your lip and tried to pull away from you to get a breath, but you, taking advantage of the fact that she had put on the scarf you gave her, took the garment and pulled her to kiss again, which made her laugh on your lips. You firmly grabbed her hand and tried to guide her under your dress, but she shook her head and smiled over your lips

-"Let's get back inside before you catch a cold"-She spoke in her voice hoarser than usual and you pouted looking at her

-"But I'm not cold and I need you so much... Please Mel, touch me a little, get me to climax at least once..."-You begged and she smiled looking at you, it's been a long time since she've seen you this desperate

-"Love, it's starting to snow, we can't do it out here... Let's go back to the others and I promise we'll be home in a few minutes" - she replied and kissed your pout to then guide you inside the school again.

Your wife had noticed all your sighs and how restless you were and even though she was desperate to be with you, she liked to see you despair, to hear you beg. That was the reason why she didn't touch you at that moment and the reason why she started talking to Barbara for a long time while you were trying to play cards without being able to concentrate and losing every time.

An hour later, your wife took pity on you and decided to say goodbye to the others and go home, but not before warning you that you had to behave like a good girl on the car or she will not touch you at home.

When you got home you barely let her open the door before you started kissing her again, the only thing you could do was take off her coat before she stopped you from letting you remove her clothes anymore

-"In the note you said that in addition to the scarf, you had worn green underwear like the scarf to match and that you would also be my gift... I want you to go to bed and get naked, take all off but your bra and wait for me there"-Your wife said in an authoritative tone and you nodded before rushing upstairs to the room while you took off your shoes and dress. After a few moments, while you were sitting on the bed waiting for her, Mel entered the room wearing a black corset that highlighted her beautiful breasts and made your mouth water. Her hair was tied in a ponytail, her leather pants still on her legs, and her tall boots too. What particularly caught your attention, it was that the scarf you gave her was still on her neck. The redhead approached you with desirous steps, her heel echoing on the wooden floor of the room, filling the silence with noise as well as the labored breaths of the two of you that could be clearly heard. She smiled as she stood inches away from you, watching as you looked at her body with desire. Carefully she sat down on your lap and took your face in her hands

-"Do you want to kiss and lick my breasts hon? - she whispered inches from your lips and you nodded eagerly-"go ahead, make mommy happy with your soft mouth... But put your hands behind your back, use your mouth only"-Excited and dumbfounded you did what she told you, with your hands behind your back, you started giving wet kisses on her neck and cleavage, at first you tried to stay calm and go slow, but the more you kissed and bit her breasts, the more desperate you were, especially when you heard her soft moans. With more determination, you began to mark and bite her breasts causing her to growl. Forcefully she grabbed your hair making you lift your head so she could kiss you, her tongue connected with yours starting a slow and wet dance, moans escaped your lips as you felt how the redhead rubbed against your leg. Without much effort and still kissing you, she pushed you back so that you were lying on the bed and she was on top of you. Even though you felt that while she was kissing you she was moving a lot, you didn't think much of it as you were gawking and focused on feeling the way she exploded your mouth with her tongue. It wasn't until you tried to grab her hips so that she rubbed more forcefully against you, that you realized that your hands were tied to the bed with no more or less than the scarf you had given her

-"Mel..."-You barely whimper and her smile grow

-"You're my christmas present and I'm going to make the most of every second" - she replied in a very deep voice. With soft, moist kisses, she began to mark your skin, from your jaw, to your neck, your breasts (In which she took a pause to massage and suck them through the lace bra until they were sensitive and then continue through your body), your abdomen and your legs.

With your hands tied to the head of the bed, you were at the complete mercy of the redhead who had her face between your legs, carefully caressing and kissing your thighs leaving pink marks that would later become deep, dark purple marks, deep memories of the night that was just beginning. Each mark was followed by her tongue, relieving the tingling and pain immediately, only adding to your desperation and desire. Your wife laughed as she saw how your legs trembled with desperation, because of the desire you had, because of her caresses, because of her. She had barely started touching you and you had already lost control of your body. Not to mention, you were already so wet that you were dripping the bed

-"Melissa, please..."-You whispered, you didn't even realize that you were begging her or why you were doing it, maybe you were begging her to be faster, maybe to not torture you, to touch you where you needed her the most, to put you out of your misery, maybe you were begging her to make you come and at the same time to prolong the moment, you were begging her for something, for anything

-"Shhh shh shh, It's my Christmas present, I want to enjoy it as best as possible"-the redhead whispered kissing your hip and marking you, you subconsciously lifted your hips to rub against her to feel something. But with strong hands she glued you to the bed again, following her kisses, almost reaching where you needed her most but stopping to look at your desperate eyes making you whimper under her strong gaze. You tried to put your legs together to feel some relief but she wouldn't let you, with a single stroke of her tongue, she swept from your entrance to your clit, causing a gasp to escape your mouth. You thought she would finally take pity on you, but no, she didn't touch you again, she just looked at you smiling with her face stained with your juices-"You're being such a good girl for me and you are so delicious" - She whispered against your pussy. Your eyes began to water, everything was too much and at the same time it was not enough, if only you could squeeze your thighs and get some relief, you were sure that if you put your thighs together because of how sensitive you were you could climax easily, but no, the redhead was using her strength to stop you. Sobbings escaped your mouth. Your wife was lost looking at your crotch, your body, all your responses to her touch-"you're clenching around nothing my love... I've never seen you so wet, you're soaked, so soaked that maybe I'll take pity on you... Maybe... Maybe if you had behaved well I would have taken pity on you long ago eating you out on the car, maybe if you hadn't decided to tell me the kind of underwear you were wearing in a place where I couldn't touch you... Maybe if you had behaved better I would have pulled you out of your misery a lot sooner... Tell me love, are you enjoying this as much as you enjoy teasing me?"-She asked in a hoarse voice kissing your abdomen but you didn't answer, which caused the redhead to slap your pussy, sending a current of electricity throughout your body

-"Melissa!"-You screamed and she bit your neck

-"I asked you a question... Are you enjoying it? Because if you're not enjoying this, I might stop right now" - she whispered in your ear and bit you there, making you sob

-"I'm enjoying it, don't stop, I'm begging you"-you answered her and a tear dropped from your eyes-"I need you Mel..."-You whispered with not much strength left

-"What do you need me to do?"-She asked innocently

-"Fuck me, please... Eat me, do something please"-You responded pathetically whimpering but she walked away from the bed looking you up and down smiling-"Melissa, please, I can't take it anymore, don't leave me like this"

-"You look so beautiful begging...I also have a gift for you my good girl"-The redhead began to peel off her boots and then her pants as you watched her intensely, unable to move from the bed because you were still tied with the scarf. Your eyes almost went to the back of your head and your mouth started salivating as the redhead took off her pants letting you see the strap she was wearing. This one was different from the one you normally used, this was a double-ended one, which meant that the two of you would enjoy it fully. The toy was as red as your wife's hair and made you wonder how she had bought it without you noticing. You also wondered if she had been wearing it all night and if was as desperate as you were to feel it inside you.

Your wife took off the corset she was wearing dropping your underwear that had been tucked between her breasts to the floor and climbed back into bed while watching you look at her. Carefully she climbed on top of you and sat on your abdomen, you moaned as you saw how her breasts bounced and how the strap came out between her legs standing hard and almost brushing your breasts with the tip; your wife groaned as she felt pressure inside her as the toy rested on your abdomen. Slowly she began to rub herself on your abdomen, riding you as she kissed you slow and deep, wetting your skin with her juices. When you started moaning desperately to have her so close and not being able to do anything or touch her, the redhead got up from your abdomen and lined up with your entrance looking into your eyes and biting her lip, when you nodded, she began to enter you very slowly stretching you like never before, as soon she bottomed out and her hip was connected to yours, you began to desperately move your hips without expecting to get used to the discomfort of being so stretched out. Melissa moaned loudly every time you moved your hips, the other end that was inside her was pressing on the perfect spot inside her when you desperately moved your hips. With her strong hands she grabbed one of your legs and placed it on her shoulder before exiting you and re-entering with force, making you scream when she hit your g-spot. That new position where you were halfway on your side and with your legs wide apart made you feel much more pleasure than any previous time you had been together using a strap.

Even though you wanted to hide your face in the pillows, Mel grabbed your jaw so you could look her in the eye

-"Are you ready?" She asked and you nodded without trusting your words, but it wasn't enough for her-"Speak or I won't move, use your big girl words" - She was making fun of you and you knew it but you were so desperate you didn't care about a thing

-"yes, please Melissa, fuck me, destroy me, I'm begging you"-You spoke on the verge of tears because of the need for her that you had.

The redhead finally took pity on you and began to move her hips in and out of you, first slowly and then harder and harder. The two of you were very close to heaven, the room was full of screams and moans that no doubt that it could be heard from the sidewalk. Every time her hips collided with yours it made a beautiful sound, her breasts bounced with every movement and her hands gripped your hips tightly to fuck you harder. Out of her mouth came many obscenities and words which you did not understand because of how far gone you were. Your body began to spasm and hers began to spasm as well, making more desperate and clumsy movements. Her hand went down to your pussy caressing your clit

-"Cum with me my love"-It was the last thing you heard before you had one of the most intense orgasms of your life. Your wife kissed you hard and kept moving her hips against you to lengthen the blessed feeling. For a few seconds you kissed her sloppy, lost in the aftershock.

When you returned to the present, you felt how your wife untied your hands without leaving from inside you, delicately kissed your wrists relieving the burning of the pressure the scarf had left. When she went to come drag out of inside you, you whimper sadly and she understood that you wanted her to stay inside a little longer, so she settled on the bed and made you snuggle on her chest, which you did smiling a lot when you felt her warmth and how she hugged you. You hid in her chest listening to her fluttering heart and enjoying feeling the caresses she gave on your back and legs whispering sweet words.

The redhead saw the time on the clock on the nightstand and smiled seeing that it was already past 12 o'clock.

-"Merry Christmas my love..."-she whispered and kissed your forehead making you smile

-"Merry Christmas my life"-You answered and kissed her affectionately slowly staring to move your hips again a little sleepy.

[warping-realities]

Building an Empire Part I

Okay, I know I said I didn't plan on writing anything new, but it seems that just by making the new images for Making

Amends the desire to try something new appeared. In reality, it's not that new because I'm not writing anything different from what I've written before and even the way the transformation occurs is derived from another story, albeit with some twists. And yes, as the title makes clear we are talking about a series, but I have no idea when the next part will be ready. Finally, this one is a little darker than my usual, so be warned. Hope you like it!

The Partner

Javier stared at the prison cell wall with hatred so deep in his eyes that it could burn a hole in the concrete in front of him. He had been very stupid to let himself get caught in something as stupid as tax evasion. The police had been looking for years for a reason to place him in that exact place without ever having come close to him engaging in any of the criminal activities that formed the basis of the small fortune acquired through his life of crime. At almost forty years of age he had acquired a reputation in the criminal underworld, several gangs and cartels hired his services with the guarantee of a quick and effective solution to any possible problem. An arrest would irreparably tarnish that reputation. And in his field, a man's reputation was his greatest asset, even more so when he had another reputation, that of an insatiable man-eater, who had only gotten away with his actions and the blatant homophobia in his midst due to his impeccable record. In fact, if a look could tear down a wall, Javier's cell would have been open to the outside world for a long time.

….

"Javier Ruiz, suspect in several cases of extortion, drug trafficking and possible involvement in homicides that have never been clarified. Raised by his maternal great-aunt Isabela Ruiz, his father was a member of a cartel killed in an exchange of gunfire with a rival gang before his birth and his heroin-addicted mother died with him in her arms at the age of 3 in the small apartment where they lived, where he would be found 4 days after the incident, dehydrated but still resisting.

Since he was a child, he was known for his enormous size, which earned him his nickname, Golias, Goliath, a name he adopted in the criminal underworld. We have had reports of his activities for more than two decades but without ever being able to link the nickname to the person. Until now.

Thanks to a rookie mistake we finally have him in custody, an opportunity. " Explained to the room a young dark haired cop.

"Indeed, he has precious information, but it seems no one in here is capable to get him to say anything." Police Lieutenant Patrick Walsh spoke in response, with a hard look at his subordinates.

"An opportunity we just missed. His bail was just paid, he's free." Interjected one of the police officers present, Sergeant Adams, a portly black man in his fifties.

"Shit, a completely wasted golden opportunity." Exclaimed the young dar haired and fresh out of the academy, Officer Anthony DiAngelo who was present there only because he was the lieutenant's wife's nephew.

"Maybe not. Sir, I have an idea." Said a strong blond man of about 35 years old with a rigid look and posture. And his idea made the lieutenant's eyes shine with excitement.

…

"Enjoying your freedom while you can Goliath?" asked the blonde detective in front of the police station when Javier was released.

"My name is Javier. And my taxes and bail have been paid, there's no need to bother me detective...?"

"Fischer. Michael Fischer. And I didn't want to bother you Golias, just warn you."

"Warn me, of what?"

"Unfortunately, it seems that the information that you spent the night at the police station has leaked . The rumor going around the city is that you handed over very important people to save your skin."

"Save me from what, a stupid accusation of tax evasion?"

"Ah, but they don't know that, do they?"

"Son of a bitch!"

"Goliath, this son of a bitch here is your best friend right now."

"I have no friends, let alone a pig like you. And if you think I'm going to fall for that stupid move and turn someone in, you're sorely mistaken."

"Well, I'm sure a lot of people have seen you talking to me in the last few minutes, friend." Detective Fischer concluded as he placed a card in Javier's pocket. While Javier, being in front of the police station, could not react the way he wanted and risk being arrested again.

"For when you realize the value of my friendship, Goliath."

…..

Javier was foaming at the mouth, with the money he had accumulated he knew he could live reasonably well in some forgotten third world country. Still, he needed to take Tia Isabel with him and that would be a big problem. How would he go out the country with an elderly illegal woman with the police and the city's biggest criminals on his tail?

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! You bastards." He shouted at the roof of the car as he headed to the comfortable apartment he had rented for the aunt who had raised him spend the last years of her life.

"Tia sabel, it's Javi, I'm sorry I didn't come to see you yesterday, I had an unforeseen event and we need to talk about... Tia? Tia?" Said Javier, touching the cold corpse of the woman who had created him and feeling a wave of pain, sadness and already the familiar hate and anger invade him."

"They're going to pay, they're going to pay...damn pigs." He said between tears, hugging his aunt's body. And so he continued for a long time. Until a strange buzzing sound caught his attention. Following the source of the sound he came across a shelf full of trinkets. The buzzing came from a small round golden box. He picked it up and felt it vibrate in his huge hand. Opening it he found a coin made of pure gold that when he picked it up dissolved in his hands, and just like that a whole new range of possibilities opened up to him and despite all the sadness of that moment he couldn't help but smile.

……

"Are you sure it's okay to you take care of Jamie, Will?"

"Yes, Mr. Fischer, you know I've been doing this for years."

"Still, I'd imagine you'd want to enjoy your last few days of spring break before returning to college."

"Ah, you know I've never had the most lively social life. And it's a pleasure to spend some time with him, it's like he's a little brother."

"Thank you very much Will, you know I see you as a nephew too. And I'm sorry again, but Lauren is on night shift at the hospital and this urgent appointment came up."

"Like I said, Mr. Fischer. No problem, it's a pleasure." Replied the twenty-year-old boy standing at the door of Detective Fischer's comfortable suburban home, with a smile on his face.

After giving his eight-year-old son a hug and apologizing for his absence, Michael got into his SUV and responded to the message from the unknown number but which belonged to a person he would probably know very well. He just couldn't imagine how much.

….

Michael Fischer was a tough man, with few smiles, shaped by the service to his country, he had served in Afghanistan and seen the horrors of war firsthand. Upon returning he enrolled in the police academy and at the age of 35 he was a detective in one of the busiest police stations in the large metropolis in which he lived. His reputation for being harsh had spread quickly among his colleagues and the criminal population, earning him admirers but also many enemies, even among his colleagues, as everyone knew that he could become ruthless in his endeavor for what he thought was fair.

For him there was no such thing as the spirit of the law, the law was the law and had to be followed, which did not prevent him from using its obscure margins, often bringing him closer to the behavior of the same subjects he sought with so much to penalize. Something that many of his detractors loved to use against him. Mainly old Sergeant Adams, a member of the union and activist for racial equality, who seemed to see some of the positions adopted by him as racist. Which wasn't true, because for him a criminal was a criminal, regardless of social class or color and they all deserved punishment and if Michael was the one to lead them to it, so much the better.

Anyone who knew Michael from work could never imagine that the rigid and tough guy was a loving father and husband, a helpful neighbor and an active member of the Lutheran church where he was loved by everyone and recognized for carrying out social works. The church was indeed a very important place for him, as it had been his home for years and was deeply related to why he acted so stoically.

Michael had been orphaned at a very young age and had known the reality of the streets, he himself had almost been one of the strays he hated so much if it hadn't been for the shelter of religion and maybe that was the reason he persecuted social misfits so much, the notion that he had almost been one of them. And if there was one thing he knew from the bottom of his heart, it was that he would do everything to make sure Jamie didn't have to go through the same thing.

It was this responsibility with his son, the result of his relationship with Lauren, the nurse who had taken care of him after the accident that ended his short military career, that he thought about while looking at the photo that served as the wallpaper on his cell phone, showing him and his son on a summer afternoon.

Michael sighed when he saw his son's face being covered by a message notification on his cell phone screen saying simply: Apartment 416. He knew it was imprudent of him to go alone and talk to Javier, but the criminal represented a great chance of incapacitate several of the city's gangs. An opportunity he couldn't pass up. Resigned, he got out of the car and entered the building, not knowing that the man who entered would be very different from the one who would leave.

….

The first thing Michael felt when entering the apartment was cold, the temperature inside was many degrees lower than expected, as if it were the height of winter. Adjusting his coat to his body, he observed the simple but comfortable living room with attentive eyes, but the room was completely empty. The second thing to hit his senses was the smell of flowers, so intense that it seemed as if he had entered a flower shop. Guided by that aroma, he arrived at one of the apartment's bedrooms and there he found Isabel Ruiz's corpse lying on a bed of flowers.

"Shit..." He exclaimed as he ran out of the room and grabbed his cell phone to call reinforcements, realizing what a mistake it was to go to that place alone. Javier Ruiz was a dangerous man and would certainly be distraught over the death of the only family figure he had ever known, even if he was a total psychopath as Michael was sure he actually was. Which only made things worse, only God knew what that kind of monster would do in that situation, although Michael was about to find out.

Upon returning to the previously empty room he found himself face to face with the man known as Goliath, and at that moment two things became clear to him. The first was that Javier's nickname was justified, sitting in an armchair that could barely contain all of his enormous muscles, he actually resembled the image of the biblical giant. And the second thing was that he had fucked everything up.

Staring at the gargantuan figure in front of him, Michael, without realizing it, let slip the thought that occupied his mind.

"Fuck!"

"Not yet." Was Javier's enigmatic response. As his serious face broke into a terrifying smile.

"Look, Javier, I'm sorry about your aunt, but I had nothing to do with..."

"Spare your words. There is nothing you can say that will change your destiny." Javier interrupted. While Michael faced him while realizing that there would in fact be no chance of dialogue. So Michael tried to take his pistol from his holster, only to realize that he was completely paralyzed. Which led him to be dominated by a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time: fear.

Noticing this, the giant stood up, with the maniacal smile back on his face.

"You're trapped in my net, detective. And because of your own choices. Isn't it curious? How do our choices seal our destinies? My parents' choices brought me to Tia Isabel. My choices led me to your police station and yours choices took her away from me, but they also gave me the opportunity to have everything I ever wanted, to take revenge on everyone who got in my way and finally occupy the place I deserve."

"What are you doing to me, you psychopath?"

"Shut up, I already said you don't need to talk, not yet." Javier replied, while a strip of golden metal closed Michael's mouth, making his eyes widen in surprise.

"Interesting, isn't it? Who would have thought that my poor aunt had in her hands the power to shape the universe at will and never used it. I wonder how many years this power was there on that shelf begging to be used while she resisted. If it weren't for the idiotic work from your team perhaps this power would never have reached me. So for that I am grateful to you... friend. No, no friend, I told you this before, we will never be friends, which doesn't stop us from being other things. " Javier whispered in Michael's ears, who in turn tried desperately to escape, only to realize that his feet were surrounded by the same metallic substance.

"Let's see what you have to offer, Detective." Javier added as the metallic substance liquefied and encompassed Michael's body.

"Interesting." Javier muttered as the substance solidified, forming what looked like a metal statue that vaguely resembled the naked image of the man inside it.

Earlier that day when Javier touched the coin, which was actually much more than that, a wave of information invaded his mind. That simple coin was in reality one of the most powerful artifacts known in the universe, a Reality Warper that transferred into the man's mind everything he needed to know. There were a few more models on our planet, one of the silver ones was even located in a city a few hundred miles away from where they were. But silver mattered little when you had gold. And Javier's gold would allow detective Michael Fischer to be reshaped in any way he wanted, from his personal history, through genetics to the deepest of thoughts. Know that gave Javier the greatest excitement of his life, which was manifested through the immense erection that almost burst his jeans and that would have been very visible to poor Michael if he hadn't been trapped inside his golden cocoon.

"Let's start." Javier said out loud as if Michael could hear him, while he placed his huge hand on the golden figure's chest, causing waves of energy to spread and its face to lose any defining features. At the same time, the figure's body increased in muscle, reacting to one of Goliath's great fetishes, men as big as himself, that he could subdue. and use.

While that transformation was taking place, Michael Fischer's mind and story opened up to Javier like a file that he could alter at will. He saw the orphanhood, the importance of the church, the desire to serve the country, the injury during his time serving abroad, the loving relationship with his wife and the concern for his son. But also the harsh and cruel treatment given to those he considered outcasts and the dubious selectivity with which he treated people of color, although he denied it even to himself. He also saw how the police officer prided himself on rectitude and incorruptibility and did not tolerate colleagues who did not act with the politeness, rectitude and severity that he expected from a police officer. Upon seeing all that, Javier smiled and started working.

He knew that what he was doing would not only alter the man trapped in the cocoon, but all of reality, including his own, and so he took care to create the reality that best benefited him. When he was satisfied with his work he secured another revenge, he will left the police officer consciousness last a few minutes after the work is completed and a completely different person takes that place.

Javier removed his hand from the figure's chest and watched the waves of energy spread through it, reconfiguring it into a very different form. After a few seconds he found himself in front of the image of an enormous man, of clearly Latin descent like his own, of approximately his age and size as large, if not larger.

The smile remained on his face as the golden coating dissolved and revealed the image of the man inside.

"Hello Detective Flores." Javier said, looking at the huge man still disoriented in front of him, but who quickly frowned and looked at him with irritation.

"Ruiz you son of..." Michael started to say only to hear his own deep voice and stop, as he didn't recognize it, just as he didn't recognize the weight of his own body or the hands at which he looked next.

"What did you do to me?"

"Don't worry Miguel, everything will make sense soon."

"Miguel? What?..." Michael began to say until he was invaded by a wave of memories that weren't his but were undoubtedly real.

He saw a Latino boy walking alone through the city streets, until he stopped in front of a church and sat down, only to be chased away by a blond pastor.

"This is no place for people like you!" Said the man.

A new memory, the boy, now around 13 years old, very tall but very thin, wandering down the street and being chased by older boys under the gaze of a police patrol who did nothing to help him.

The boy at 18 enlisting not because he had any patriotic desire within him, but because it was a way to get food and money.

The young man at 21 years old, very different from what he had been until then, now strong and muscular due to finally receiving an adequate diet and military training, not to mention the exorbitant use of anabolic steroids.

The same young man a few months later took advantage of an accident to injure himself and avoid being sent to a mission to the country. After having spent the last few years exchanging sexual favors with superiors to avoid more dangerous missions.

The young man being cared for by a young nurse for whom he pretended to be interested only to guarantee his livelihood. Then a visit of an acquaintance from his orphanage days who sold him the idea of ​​joining the police and acting as an informant in exchange for money.

The man looking at the son he had with the nurse with slightly interest. The intense sexual encounters with random men while he maintained the sham marriage because it guaranteed him a good image.

The man charging the same pastor who had kicked him off the church's sidewalk a monthly fee to ensure that criminals did not vandalize the property. Criminals he had hired himself.

The man being all smiles and jokes, to be seen as a man of warm and pleasant behavior, well-liked by those who didn't know what he was hiding and feared by those who saw what was beneath the facade that hid the selfishness and ambition within him. Climbing the career ladder in the police, demanding favors, blackmailing and cheating. Building an external image of a respectable family man while getting rich with bribes and providing information to his former acquaintance, with whom he had constant and animalistic sexual relations, with both constantly disputing who would dominate the other.

Michael initially observed those images with detachment because they were so foreign to the life he knew and the image he had of himself that there was no possibility of him associating himself with them.

However, he couldn't help but place himself little by little in the moonlight of that other man, in that other life, it was as if an immense force was pushing him in the direction of that life so foreign to him. Little by little he began to feel that boy's pain, loneliness and anger to the point where he was able to justify to himself some of the attitudes of the man he had become, no matter how alien and distant such attitudes were from his way of thinking.

"But were they really that distant?" He thought with the heat of burning anger in his chest, the bitterness of humiliation in his mouth, the joy of victory, of making others feel what it was like to be on the losing side and the pleasure, the immense pleasure in manipulating, conquering, dominating. ...

"No, no... what about Lauren?" A woman to be by his side, support him and meet his needs.

"No, he loved her!" Well, he loved what she had given him, and that was, in a way, a kind of love.

"No, no, no! And Jamie! Jamie!" When he thought of his son, Michael felt that expanding force slow its inexorable advance. But at that moment another thought took hold. It's obvious that he loved the boy, after all he was a continuation of himself and when the time came he would teach the kid everything he needed to do well in life and he would make sure that his son knew his rightful place, above all others. But until then he didn't have much to do for the kid, other than paying the minimum attention to him so that he felt happy until the moment he was ready. With the childhood he had himself, he knew how necessary this was. As well to maintain the appearance of a responsible family father. So if every now and then he had to take the kid to play ball or ride a bike in the park, it would be a small price to pay.

Even more so because those walks had been the perfect excuse for some of the most interesting encounters he had ever had. Last weekend for example, one of the boring afternoons he spent with the boy turned into a memorable day in which he fucked hard a twink in the park bathroom, while Jaime played ball with Will, the neighbors' unbearably annoying son.

It was after the memory of that pleasure start to vanish that a last memory came to his mind: the man kissing his business partner and occasional lover in a familiar living room. And the man's animalistic smile as he undressed in preparation for the usual contest of strength that would culminate in one of the two being brutally fucked by the other.

"Hello Goliath" Detective Miguel Flores said to his long-time partner in crime and in bed at the same time that Michael Fischer's last shred of consciousness disappeared within that corrupted mind.

.....

After the wild sex Miguel watched amazed the dancing golden metal ran through Javier's hand, unable to believe the other man's story. Neither of them seeming the least bit concerned about the fact that they had sex with a corpse in the next room.

"It's impossible for something like this to exist."

"Let me prove it to you then, I'm dying to expand the business, bring me one of your colleagues from the police station and I'll show you."

"It's very risky, Javier."

"You do not trust me."

"Of course not."

"Fine, then let's think of someone. As soon as you arrest some of the smaller members of the Maldonado and Deshaun gangs there will be a drop in the distribution of some places and so I will need people to take over. Let's start small. It would have to be someone whose change doesn't generate too many unforeseen ripples and who has access to potential consumers. A professor? No, perhaps a college student..."

Upon hearing that a wicked smile appeared on Miguel's face, only to be mirrored by the other man when he heard what the detective had to say.

[flightfoot]

Miraculous Enemies AU fanfic recs

So I was just thinking about one of my favorite Miraculous tropes, enemies au. Whether it's Marinette getting the wrong idea about Adrien from the beginning of school, or Chat being cajoled into working for his father, I adore most fics with these tropes, and I'm betting that a lot of other people do as well, so here's a list of some good ones for people to peruse!

Note: I am only listing fics that are currently completed, so you don't have to fear any of these being abandoned. They are in no particular order (or rather, they're in the order in which I was able to track them down in for this list).

cruel youth by @anyxnka

Two teenagers are chosen to wield miraculouses. Only one becomes a superhero. Weeks later, Ladybug’s lucky charm won’t stop spitting out cats.

---

i have found someone (like a nomad finds a home) by @hanaasbananas

After Stoneheart, Gabriel figured out who Chat Noir was, and forced him to work for him, rather than with Ladybug. Years later, Adrien is miserable until one night, he meets Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

---

Unstuck by @ominousunflower

Chat Noir, notorious supervillain of Paris, experiences a wardrobe malfunction in the best and worst possible place: Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s balcony. Heart pounding, Chat pins Marinette’s wrists to the balcony. She stares up at him, her blue eyes kaleidoscopic from the lights hanging overhead, her features twisted into a scowl. “Why are you trying to take my Miraculous?” Chat hisses. “Because—you—I—” Marinette splutters, her eyes dipping down below Chat’s face. “Why is your suit unzipped?” “I—well…” Chat sighs. “My zipper got stuck.”

---

one does not love breathing by @wackus-bonkus-maximus

All of Paris watched as Hawkmoth murdered Chat Noir, taking the Black Cat Miraculous for himself. Ladybug swears revenge, but her enemy—and every Miraculous in his possession—disappear without a trace. Six years later, a new team of villains launches an attack: Volpina, armed with new powers; Queen Bee, with questionable loyalty; Argos, the new holder of the Peacock Miraculous; and Cat Walker, who Ladybug hates the most. Takes place after S4 - Strike Back.

---

with this ring by @thelibraryloser

She thought “you and me against the world” had sounded like lopsided odds before, when she hadn’t even dreamed “you against me” was a possibility. Or maybe she had dreamed it, but at least in those dreams he’d had cold blue eyes and a stark white mask. The villain she’d fought today had looked at her through her partner’s own bright green eyes. It wasn’t meant to be this way.

---

Nothing Else Matters by LiquefiedStars

Marinette couldn’t figure out Chat Noir. He was supposed to be her partner, but instead ended up working for Hawk Moth. Still, her heart betrayed her and when a strong connection forms between them, Ladybug goes to Chat looking for answers, finding out more than she bargained for.

---

home is where the fight is by @rosie-b

Nadja Chamack’s voice greeted Adrien as he sat up straight, wiping his clammy hands on his pants and ignoring the black kwami floating by his shoulder. “—shocked to see our heroine fall in battle today, taking a direct hit from the akuma just as she detransformed. Parisians are torn between blaming Hawk Moth and Cat Walker for their roles in this tragedy, which ultimately revealed the civilian identity of Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” Adrien turned off the TV and lowered his head as his vision blurred. Written for Ladrien June Day 7: Injured

---

The Great War by icebelle24

'And maybe it’s the past that’s talking, screaming from a crypt Telling me to punish you for things you never did So I justified it' The unthinkable happens, and suddenly, Chat Noir’s allegiances change. Now Ladybug stands on the opposite side of the battlefield from the boy who was once her partner, left alone to make sense of an impossible situation. At least she still has Adrien to give her hope. Or maybe this war is not entirely what it seems.

---

Miss Dial by @mysticraven20

Adrien Agreste has always considered Marinette Dupain-Cheng entertaining. Whether it was the endless back and forth of their banter, the clumsiness he found so cute or the fact her anger levels could go from 1-100 in a mere millisecond; he always found there was something about her... if only he could get to know her better. Marinette Dupain-Cheng has always considered Adrien Agreste a pompous, arrogant asshole. From his constant teasing of her, to the obnoxious laugh at her discomfort and the way he could anger her quicker than any other human being; she knew she hated Adrien Agreste with all she was worth. But what happens when Adrien accidentally sends the wrong text to the wrong person and a new friendship blossoms - a friendship deeper than either have ever known? Will Marinette choose to stay faithful to the budding relationship with the boy on the other side of the phone? Or will a new job with an old foe fill the loneliness in her heart?

---

call it even by @anna-scribbles and @sha-nwa

After a year of dating, there is one thing Marinette knows for certain: it's her and Adrien against the world. Through it all, Adrien is kind, patient, and endlessly understanding—even as she tries her best to keep her secret superhero identity hidden from him along with the rest of the world. Nothing could ruin it, not even the supervillains of Paris: Hawkmoth and Chat Noir. (adrinette dating // ladynoir enemies au)

---

oh, look, there you go with hope again by @ladyofthenoodle

After the defeat of Hawkmoth and his accomplice, Chat Noir, Marinette is ready to return to her normal life, but she can't escape Adrien Agreste, who was sentenced to a fate many consider worse than prison: public school. Specifically, her public school. Still, that doesn't mean she has to interact with him, does it? Except, if she doesn't... who will?

---

Redemption by JamieHasCatEyes

Papillon has been defeated and imprisoned, but his accomplice, Chat Noir, was given a second chance. Marinette's time as Ladybug may be over, but she still has work to do if she wants to help Adrien reintegrate back into society.

---

The Son Of My Enemy by Saccha

Cat Noir never wanted to be a villain, but he doesn't have a choice. Ladybug wishes she could save him. A reverse love square, villain!Cat Noir AU.

---

metamorphosis by @peachcitt

“I was thinking about that time you hated me.” “Why?” "I don’t know." “I didn’t.” “I know.” or three years after hawkmoth's defeat, marinette is still trying to figure out her version of normal. there's also sleepovers.

---

Stealing Freedom by @rosie-b

Adrien Agreste was a good person. Marinette knew this to be true, of course; she wouldn’t be marrying him if he were some irredeemable villain. No, her fiancé was practically the opposite of evil. He cooed over babies and kittens, literally stopped to smell the roses, and always brought large bouquets of them to dates. He had trouble killing spiders and bugs, begging his partner to take on the task whenever she was around to save him. Adrien was the sweetest person Marinette knew, the most kindhearted, the most forgiving; he was almost too perfect for her sometimes. But now, Marinette knew that the same Adrien who still blushed when his fiancée kissed him was also the well-known terror of Paris, Cat Walker.

[thisismisogynoir]

If given the opportunity, how would you rewrite "The Princess And The Frog"?

Omg I actually did get an ask like this a long time ago but I never finished writing it!

Trying not to make this too long because if it is then I'll never publish it. I would make it a similar setting to the 1920s New Orleans but in a fantasy/fairytale world where racism doesn't exist. Tiana would wear her natural hair like in that one Brazilian hair care ad, and she would also have Black friends in addition to her white friend Charlotte. I think I would make her be a princess by birth, who doesn't want to become queen but instead wants to own a restaurant, and Charlotte is a lower noblewoman who helps her with that. I would keep Naveen as a frog, but Tiana wouldn't turn into one by kissing him since she's an actual princess already here. It would be more like the original frog princess story with her getting up to wacky hijinks while trying to hide the frog from people, keeping it in her dress or in her purse or something. The movie would have a more comedic and lighthearted tone and while I wouldn't have Tiana be "adorkable" like every Disney heroine after Rapunzel I would have her story still be about her loosening up and relaxing more, because that was a lesson I really liked about the original movie. The movie would show Tiana falling in love with Naveen over time(she knows he's really a human so it's okay) similar to the Beauty and the Beast, and would end with her kissing him to break the spell, and then they would get married and Tiana would get to own her restaurant. Also Charlotte would be a lesbian and fall in love with Naveen's sister.

@mutantsgurls I think you were the one who sent the original ask? If so I'm sorry but I don't remember. But either way I hope you both like this little rewrite of mine lol, it's something that's been sitting on my mind for a long, long time!

[shoujo-dump]

Heroine Hajimemashita

[star-trek-fandom-confessions]

#710

I've noticed that shipping Mariner with male characters gets some backlash from the fandom, which is unfair because being pansexual means being attracted to all genders and sexualities. To quote Mariner, "I like bad boys, bad girls, bad non-binary babes, bad Bynars..." Basically, Mariner being attracted to guys is just as valid pansexual rep as her being attracted to girls and non-binaries. I also think besides the fandom panphobia is another deeper issue. I think because Mariner is a badass female character who also happens to be black, some people ascribe the racist Strong Independent Black Woman Who Don't Need No Man stereotype to her. Which is messed up because black women rarely get cast as the male lead's crush/love interest and also, being attracted to men or being vulnerable doesn't make Mariner less of a heroine.

[dwellordream]

Books Recs of 2024

The Tainted Cup by Robert Jackson Bennett. Mystery/fantasy centered around Din, a young assistant investigator assigned to help an eccentric and infamous detective, Ana Dolabra, solve a series of murders. Din is an engraver, his brain altered so he has a photographic memory. However, no one is quite sure how he got his current position, since he failed every single one of his final exams except the combat portion. Ana is an exceedingly odd woman who refuses to go to any crime scene in person and often performs mad science experiments in her spare time. As Din struggles to keep up with the case, which revolves around a bioweapon being unleashed on a series of the empire's best engineers, he also worries what will happen when Ana finally uncovers his secrets.

Highfire by Eoin Colfer. Urban fantasy (very comedic fantasy) about a dragon called Vern (short for Wyvern), who teams up with a juvenile delinquent named Squib (real name Everett Moreau) to take down a corrupt sheriff who is plaguing the Lousiana bayou. Vern is a very small (seven feet long) dragon who is the last of his kind (as far as he knows). When he is spotted by a local troubled teen, his first instinct is to hunt Squib down and kill him, but he quickly realizes the two of them have a common enemy- the murderous sheriff who is running drugs through their territory.

The Last Tale of the Flower Bride by Roshani Chokshi. Magical realism about a romantic-minded art historian who is swept off his feet by a mysterious and charming heiress. After a whirlwind courtship, the happy couple return to her childhood home; a Gothic manor on a lonely island. The more time our narrator spends around his wife's past, the more questions are raised- increasingly sinister ones about who she is and what exactly she is capable of. Once upon a time, she was best friends with an equally odd and dreamy little girl named Indigo. But no one has seen Indigo for many years now- and the Flower Bride may be behind her disappearance.

Chlorine by Jade Song. Horror/magical realism. Since childhood, Ren's entire identity has been wrapped up in swimming. If she can be strong enough, fast enough, special enough, success is sure to come her way. As the end of high school approaches, Ren's passion for swimming becomes less about her future, and more about past legends of mermaids and sirens dragging sailors into the deep. School, friends, and her parents' expectations all fall away- Ren will make her home in the water, no matter what she has to do.

We Are Not Like Them by Christine Pride & Jo Piazza. Realistic fiction. Jen and Riley have been best friends for as long as they can remember, despite their vastly different childhoods. Riley is from a middle class Black family; Jen was raised by an impoverished white single mother. After twenty years of doing almost everything together, their lives are at a crossroads- Riley is a news anchor about to take Philadelphia by storm, while Jen is expecting her first child with her police officer husband. When Jen's husband is involved in the murder of a Black teenage boy by a fellow officer, Riley finds herself expected to cover the story- and Jen finds herself expected to answer for her husband's actions- and her own beliefs about what racism looks like.

Queenpin by Megan Abbott. Crime thriller/noir. Our nameless heroine lives a mousy existence working as a bookkeeper for a rundown local night club, but her life is turned upside down when the infamous Gloria Denton, a gun moll and smuggler, takes her under her wing. Gloria transforms her young protege from a timid girl to a sophisticated, cunning woman capable of handling gangsters, conmen, thieves, and bookies, but when she falls for the wrong man, her relationship with Gloria is strained, and they must decide just how far they can trust one another.

Everyone Knows Your Mother is a Witch by Rivka Galchen. Historical fiction. Based on the real life trial of Katharina Kepler, mother of the famed Johannes Kepler, Imperial Mathematician to the Holy Roman Empire. Katharina is a busybody, a domineering and devilishly clever woman with a particular talent for healing. She is also a fiercely loyal mother to her adult children, but when an old neighborhood grudge flares into accusations of poison and witchcraft, Katharina is determined not to meekly confess and beg pardon. The more she lashes out at her neighbors and the authorities, the more charges begin to pile up against her- despite her son's desperate attempts to save her from torture and execution.

Bury Me Deep by Megan Abbott. Crime thriller/noir. Based on a real life murder case in 1931 Phoenix Arizona. Naive and sheltered Marion Seeley is deposited in Phoenix by her disgraced doctor husband, who is forced to take a job with a mining company in South America after his medical license is revoked. Marion befriends the vivacious Louise and Ginny, two fellow nurses, who introduce her to the underground party scene in Phoenix. Politicians and businessmen flock to the secret parties held by them, and it's a quick way to make money on the side. Drawn in by the luxury and thrills, Marion falls in love with Joe Lanigan, a powerful local politician, but as their affair intensifies, her friendship with the other women fractures, culminating in a gruesome crime.

[darklinaforever]

God, the problem is not racism or sexism. In Star Wars, there were strong female characters and there were people of color and no one had a problem with that. Seriously, such characters were in classic movies 1-6. However, the problem with The Acolyte is that the creators decided that it was enough to make the characters JUST women or JUST people of color and this would somehow sell the story to people. Well, look at the ratings. This show doesn't have a good script, an interesting plot - anything good at all, except a title about a strong woman, and also a black one. That's not how it works. If your characters are empty, progressivity will not save them.

Are the characters empty ? The heroine is simply summarized as being a strong woman, and black ? Is there nothing interesting in the plot ? Absolutely nothing good at all ? Wow... We must not have watched the same show at all, my word... Or then you are at a very high stage of bad times. And if you think that racism and misogyny are not a factor of deep hatred in the Star Wars fandom (hello The Last Jedi), and more specifically in the case of The Acolyte, you are very naive.

[triangle-strategy-notes]

Frederica Concept Art

I've done the translations for Frederica's art before, but they were scattered across posts and the scans themselves were pretty low quality, so I wanted to post a cleaner version all together in one place. I've also included a reference sheet I made a while back with some details of her costume.

Translation notes and ids under the cut.

Translation notes:

"Transparent" as it was used on the first page is directly a word that means transparent/translucent. I went back and forth on whether to use a different word that might be more commonly used in English to describe beauty (like "airy" or "delicate" or something), but decided to just go with transparent.

"Sorry for the hasty drawings" was more directly translated as, "don't mean to be a hasty drawer!"

"A straightforward gaze" was literally "a straight/true gaze."

Probably a more literal translation for what I wrote as "Soooo good!" would be something like "tasty" or "delicious". Another translation might have been "Yummm" or something along those lines.

Image id:

[id: Two pages from the Triangle Strategy artbook of Frederica's concept art. The first page has two versions of her canon portrait—one colored and one uncolored. At the bottom there's a note that reads, "We aimed for a pristine and transparent kind of beauty. (Naoki Ikushima)". On the second page, there are many drawings of Frederica and her costume. The page is titled, "Liberty Character WIP (Long Hair)". There's a note by a portrait where she's staring toward something that reads, "A straightforward gaze". Another note nearby reads "Honorable", and another, "Strong-willed", and another, "Generally always dignified". To one side there is a drawing of a snow crystal and a bird's-eye primrose, labeled, "Two patterns associated with Country B". There's a small drawing of Frederica delighted by a food she's eating and saying "Soooo good!", that reads, "I don't think she'd ever make this face." It's labeled, "Eating in a new place for the first time." Next to one drawing of her crying loudly with her mouth open wide, there's a note that reads, "Don't open your big mouth like that, ha". Next to another portrait of her crying quietly, it reads, "Swallowing down her grief" and "Fine-tuning how tough/ soft she is". On the second half of the page (titled "Liberty Brainstorming (hair color test - not final)"), there are more detailed drawings of her inner and outer clothing. A note reads, "Sorry for the hasty drawings! Here's the construction of Frederica's clothing." Another says, "The costume is red and black, which are the representative colors of Country B." Next to her cape, a note reads, "Some people might use fur for the lining." At the bottom of the page, one designer's note reads "She's our team's first pink-haired heroine! Next is green hair! (laughs) (Tomoya Asano)" and another reads, "Mr. Asano had a request for Frederica before we began the design: "I want her to have a bright color for her hair!" It's amazing how it ended up connecting to the world-building. After I decided on pink hair, I was careful to put on finishing touches that would help it blend in even in a somber world. (Naoki Ikushima)" /end id]