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kitanaijin · 4 months

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feathers in the attic | freakebana | part i. | blueberry trainwreck >> blackberry kush

yandere keigo takami x reader, goldfinch. words: 4567. explicit content. 18+ MDNI

He longed for a world where heroes had too much time on their hands.

No one knew better than his wives how he’d rather spend his days.

please be mindful of the ample warnings as we're all responsible for curating our own fandom experience✌️ this chapter contains neuro spice, chronic pain, non-consensual fingering, degradation, involuntary & forced orgasms, physical abuse, throat fucking, enforced sobriety, and mention of the breeding plot within the harem.

“Would’ve made a hell of a name.”

Lazing over a bed of flannels and plumage, you flip through the well worn pages of the magazine until you’ve found it.

You can still remember when an idol graced the cover. It’s an old issue from 2018 with a midsummer run, scratched to ruin ages ago. The full shoot was left virtually untouched along with the accompanying article.

She’d posed so pretty, selling her story to perfection. Not that you could fully appreciate what she was promoting.

These types of interviews tended to lose their impact, dated as they were.

No intimacy. No stakes or connection. No urgency in your step to rush to the nearest theater to support the little girl with a dream.

The farthest you could take yourself was the toilet.

Not quite the Library of Alexandria—but oh, how the loss of context tore you apart.

Within the confines of these four walls, time was a construct at your most lucid… a prison when you were dragged past the depths of your dark and twisty recesses.

The nights he’d sweep your broken body from the floor. Hold you in his crimson embrace and manhandle you to his whims. When all the fight left your lungs so you couldn’t even scream, let alone tell him no.

He stole your name twice over in a swinging pendulum of perception; Goldfinch for times you were his sweet girl… Bluebird when you were less than pliant.

It bruised him to see you scorn his affections, so he called you in kind.

He’d pin you down. Pry you apart. Fuck himself into your cunt and soul, leaving you a mere ragdoll to his desires.

You’d only ever been what he had demanded of you.

He wanted a victim, you could damsel with the best of them. This was a show that would go on with or without your approval.

He’d feed you. Rape you. Dry your tears.

Anything more than that, he can stand to spoil you.

Could’ve been hours before you’d feel him leave your side. Days, even. You’d hardly know the difference—only that his side was barren, cool to the touch as you washed a hand over the sheet…

Here one minute, gone the next. Pain emanating and all your own.

Without the organic warmth of sunlight on your cheeks, you’d never feel the day break for yourself.

He took everything from you. Your power. Your will. Your life.

The room was set to a constant low light, controlled by the flick of his wrist and a tablet.

Never natural and never enough, same as every inch of every room of this godforsaken place. A damn menagerie, down to the fucking temp.

dry heat so you won’t catch cold… fans in the warmer months.

He kept you maintained. Albeit depleted in your current state, but no one was about to accuse the bastard of neglecting you.

If they ever found his nest, that is.

Would it matter?

Would they care?

White knuckles hold the spine as the water bottle at your side loses the last of its tepid edge.

You can’t think about it. Mainlining dopamine where you could manage would have to get you through the worst of it for now.

Vivid colors punch a sigh from your lips, even muted in the dark like this. More than satisfied, you’re relieved. Manic thoughts swirl that someday he might deem the material obscene. He was a jealous man, mercurial by nature. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility for him to tatter disagreeable content beyond recognition.

Maybe leaving the article unmolested was a gesture on his part, a bygone offering.

Perhaps he’d just overlooked the whole thing. It could mean nothing.

Fingers graze the gorgeous arrangements until you can match the scent into your mind and memory. Citrus and pome. Florals you haven’t thought to conjure in years.

Freakebana.

You take your time tracing the header with a wavering touch before devouring the article.

Composition. Purpose. How to style your very own lovely item.

In another life you’d be all over this shit. You and your quirk.

Don’t think about it.

It’s a striking contrast that never fails to overwhelm you…

Sensual. A serenity that follows the warm blush of anthurium piercing the understated pears. Surreal. The next image featured a bit of Queen Anne’s lace and soft peonies over an orange. Vulgar.

The dissonance of rotting fruit and lush botany was breathtaking. The writer was on the fucking money in the best of ways.

You had some trouble placing the last of the flowers through the hurricane wreaking havoc over your joints and muscles. Breath catching, the aches come roaring back.

You’ve passed the eye of the storm.

Just as well, you’re wrapping on your daily indulgence anyways. Spoil yourself now and you risk the brainrot of whatever envy you’ve got waiting in the wings.

You tuck the magazine under the mattress with a frown.

“Seriously.” Falling back on the mattress, you set the heels of your hands over your eyes. “Like taking a shower and having that perfect comeback all those hours later. So goddamn irritating.”

A voice cuts through the vent, where her wall meets your ceiling. “Never took you for the hero track.”

“Never said I was.”

You hone your focus on the neon numbers at your bedside, blinking away one hour to the next.

The clock reads five fifteen. He’ll be darkening your doorstep soon enough.

A distant cry tickles your eardrums. You curl in on yourself, tremors washing over you with a groan. The contractions in your belly spread like a wildfire of pain past your thighs and calves. It’s all you can do to pull the sheet over your shoulders and bury yourself deeper.

Five thirty.

You’d thought to ask if she heard anything on her end but Magpie had long grown quiet in the room beside yours. It’s all you can do to force your bloodshot eyes open.

You have to stay awake—you can fall apart when he’s taken to the skies or buried six feet under.

Five fifty…

Before sleep can take you, a near melodic taps hit your ears; the sweeping fingers of a key code just beyond your reach.

Keigo lets himself inside, his feathers shutting the door faster than you can think to act.

Not that it matters. You couldn’t fight him off if you’d been training from the start of your confinement.

Your eyes remain locked on the time. Jaw tight, you commit to refusing him.

Five fifty one.

He’ll be late if he doesn’t hurry the fuck up and get face time with every wife. There was a ritual to these things.

Timing had to be down to an art form otherwise the fastest man would have to be late to the day job. Usually a punishment or two.

Hate to do this, he’d say. Lies spewed past a tight jaw and a strained cock.

Rather than present a front of urgency to the fact, he only lets out a long suffering sigh at the sight of you.

You hear his voice before you ever make his face.

“I know you’re awake.” You tense under his avian gaze. “Was it another bad one?”

He drops the tray of breakfast and meds on a dresser you’ve always found woefully redundant. Then he’s crossing the room, shameless in his liberties over the unclaimed space.

The mattress dips beside you. His body runs flush against your back as an unwelcome touch traces shapes over your belly.

“Finch…” A plea on his lips, a warning to your ears. “I’m sure you don’t want to make a bad time worse. You know the kind of stress I’m under. C’mon, Songbird. You gotta give me something.”

Silence begets silence. He frowns in the darkness, ever waiting on a poised reply from his captive bride.

“Tell you what. You talk to me. You behave, I’ll see what I can do on my end,” he coaxes with his fingers carding through your hair. “We can have family game night. Maybe a movie?”

“So generous,” you rasp.

He hums into a modest shrug, pressing a kiss over your shoulder. “I thought so, at least.”

Smug fuck.

“You still have Starling on the suppressants?”

His wings posture around you reflexively. You have only a second to relish in the chaos before his grip is tightening. He pulls the hair he’s buried himself in.

“I thought you were gonna be a good girl,” he accuses.

“That was your mistake… You’re the one who wanted me to sing.” Spite bleeds from your lips like a curse.

“Really now.” He quirks his brow, almost impressed. “You know what, fair play.”

Drawing your head back for a torturous moment too long, he keeps you in those eyes right there with him. Molten and tragic—fixed solely on you.

You catch your breath in the pillow, heaving into a series of coughs.

He passively regards you as the strewn feathers do his bidding. They haul you from the mattress, raising you up with ease. Remaining on the bed, Keigo knocks both wrists under his neck to lean on.

Hands above your head, he has you bound and restrained midair. You watch the idle plumage sharpen in your periphery. Only two.

You can’t muster the fucks it would take to panic… Never mind the pleas to get out of this.

The aches are ever present, blossoming upwards now. It grounds you, pins you to the moment as the feathers keep you locked in place.

“Here I wanted to have a nice breakfast with all you pretty birds on my day off,” he grouses.

“The pain I’m in is killing me. Day in, day out. You leave me to wither and rot without a thought to my suffering. Not me, not any of us.” You’re absolutely raging beneath his phantom hold. “Fuck your day off.”

The blades move closer. Just a nick in the right place, that’s all it would take to end this nightmare for you. There’s nothing else for him to take.

“As much as I appreciate your blessing, I was already planning on it.”

One slice. And another. A mere whisper of cloth that leaves your breasts exposed.

Both straps of your silken nightdress come undone on his order. They turn the remaining scraps to ribbons until you’re completely nude for him.

Rising from the bed, his wings bristle ever so.

Keigo takes his time sauntering towards you. Rounding the bed, he pops a grape in his mouth. It only takes one fallen feather trailing behind him to swipe pills from the very same tray.

“Not like either of us have anywhere to be. Why don’t I make you really sing, hm?”

Close as he is, you find yourself flinching. His calloused touch ghosts across your skin, breath fanning in tandem over your cheeks.

“What d’ya suppose I’m gonna find when I get down there.”

“Drop dead,” you curse.

Your head is knocked back into the wall before you even register the slap. A practiced hand slips inside your mouth to silence you, taking his time fucking you with his fingers. Never once does he break stride with the hand that keeps time over your pulse.

Your cheek burns. His fingers gag you as he smothers the sounds of protest at your airway. Emboldened by the sounds at his fingertips, his breath stutters over your cheeks as he ruts desperately against you.

He releases you. Presses on, low as he dares to tread in these little hours.

Down your chest.

Past your stomach.

Quick as a flash, he pulls himself from your mouth leaving a trail of spittle that runs down your chin. The absence leaves you fighting for your life, choking on air one minute and a scream the next.

Deft fingers bite into your throat. You groan, arching into his touch.

“Tell me why you’re so interested all of a sudden,” he bids. “Couldn’t possibly be out of concern for me…”

You want to tear away from him. Claw his skin, his eyes. Those feathers aren’t granting you any favors—palms bleeding stigmata, their loyalties remain solely with the master who controls them.

You’re in a losing fight with the pain.

You’ll have to ride this out until he kills you or tires from the game. Fuck this and fuck him.

“Star…ling,” you grind out.

A weak swing of your legs is thwarted with ease.

He loosens his touch some. You hurl your answer at him while there’s a fraction of a chance he’ll leave you alone.

“Lend me her power or up my dose… I don’t care, just give me enough to end it.”

This gives him pause. He hovers over your collarbone. You watch him swallow.

“I can’t live like this anymore,” you sob. “The pain is unbearable and you’re not letting me heal myself. No sunlight. No relief. I can’t sleep unless you put me under and it’s never enough. It was for me, Keigo.”

He sends for a feather to fetch his whims. Rests the heel of his waiting hand against your mons.

“That’s what you’re going with?”

You hang your head. “It’s the truth.”

His lips lock around your aching nipple just as he dips inside you.

He spreads your thighs, appraising your legs with a scrutinizing eye and a wandering touch to match. You’d scream if you thought it would help.

Keigo slots your legs over his shoulders. Sucks a bruise into your thigh, cups your cunt. You jolt into the assault.

Slow to start, he presses down and teases you with his relentless strumming. His middle finger laps your juices, fucking them deeper into you every time.

Thighs shake. Your stomach tenses, bracing for the forced release.

His wrist twists in quick succession. It’s all you hear. He latches on your clit, a steady staccato of tongue and teeth with his forearm shining with sweat and your own wetness.

Your breath catches on a wail, riding the orgasm for all it’s worth. The last of your release comes pouring out of you, stuttering the last of the stream all over his face; a shining testament to an evil man who knows just how to give migraine-shattering head.

The hormonal gremlin that haunts your attic almost wants him to fuck you. Best taken as a sign you’re ovulating… better to stay away.

It’s like he can smell the apprehension on your skin. His eyes stare up at you in the dark. Not in awe, rather a cautious advantage.

Ever the predator, he watches and awaits the moves of the prey.

You’re still a writhing mess on his tongue. If you could bury yourself in his hair, you would bear down with a white knuckle grip and a piercing cry to match.

Your arms tingle in the restraints above you. “Keigo… stop.”

He does so. Pulls away from you entirely.

You slump to the floor. A groan, “Keigo—what the fuck?!”

The scruff on his chin glistens in the low light. He smiles down on you, aglow as an angel.

Even Lucifer had wings before the fall.

You flinch when his palm reaches your jaw. It takes you by surprise how gentle, how earnest it was. Almost reminds you of the beginning.

Never enough. Not really.

Of course you knew who he was. Hawks was renowned on and off the job; a top hero during business hours and a notorious playboy after dark. He frequented your flower shop when you were earth side.

Still, he never touched you. He didn’t have to when he’d been grooming you from the start.

You came. He called. Service with a smile, even with eyes locked on the scene of him devouring the deepest parts of you.

He left you to your own devices for the most part. One day you got a little too familiar, too comfortable with the back and forth, letting it slip that you’d been living with chronic pain for years.

And maybe you shouldn’t have reassured him that your form of management is often self medicated, supplied by your plant quirk…

But he looked so sad.

Little did you know the ammunition you’d be giving him. A warrant signed by your own hand for a drawn out death, long and tortuous.

Coming to, you gag around him.

“Take it,” he demands. “Shut your whore mouth and take it.”

He’s got a fistful of your hair and you can’t get a breath in while you’re warming his cock.

You push on his thighs but he only tightens his grip, pulling you flush against him.

He stutters above you and then slows.

Stays still inside you, caresses the bulge taking purchase down your throat.

One roll of his hips. Then two to follow. He came on your tongue before he could see to the third.

“Don’t you dare swallow yet.” He twists your nipple, further scrutinizing you as he nods towards your quivering lips. “Open up, let me see.”

You do as you’re told. In the dark like this, you don’t have the luxury of foresight. You could never have known that he had you where he wanted; primed with a grape and your cocktail of pills and vitamins.

He takes the grape in his mouth, tracing your pout with his thumb. After a few moments pass when he drops a languid pool of spit over his come. You choke on the intrusion and are afforded no time to recover. He presses two tablets on the pile before making you take it all.

Palm across your mouth, his thumb caresses your throat. He’s got his fingers censoring you, guiding you.

You swallow with a retch and grimace before taking the rest.

He watches, expectant. Keigo snags a circular style, day of the week pill dispenser from an errant feather. Snaps the lid open and presents you with your haul for the morning.

“Go on,” he urges.

You present your palm to him… It dawns on you both that you were bleeding still.

“Damn it,” he scoffs. Runs off to a trunk in the corner and comes back with first aid. Regards the blood with a rough double take. “Fuck.”

“If it’s really that bad, maybe you should stop doing it. Food for thought.”

He turns your hand over, alcohol wipe in hand. Doesn’t give you any countdown, just starts scrubbing his scene.

“Fuck,” you hiss. “Son of a bitch…”

“Do you want the vitamins or not?”

“Are they going to put me in a good mood?”

“Ginger, garlic, and elderberry… mostly immune boosting. Best I can do. You know how I feel about you girls and drugs.”

You watch him, incredulous. “And just what does your little philosophy have to say about forcing sleeping pills on your wives so you don’t have to worry about them keeping up, hmm?”

“Finch, you’ve taken your punishment like a good girl.” He nurses his temple where he’s bound to have a migraine as well. “You can take a day off from being a brat, for once.”

You catch him in the low light. Seems he’s nursing a bruise to match. Onto your own scrutiny, his feathers cut you down before the gripe can draw breath.

His attentions never leave the work.

You pry your hand away, cradling the wound with a hiss. “It’s aftercare for me to watch you squirm, dickless.”

“Is that so…” Keigo sounds almost bored. He rolls his eyes, turning up the brightness of the room. “Well today it’s gonna be antibiotic ointment and gauze pads because someone decided to waste time with an attitude.”

Keigo dresses the wounds without dictation. You allow him his silence until an intrusive thought has you groaning.

“What is it now?”

You shake your head. “I can’t. It’s really bad.”

“Say your peace, Finch. I’m only one man and I have all of you to get through.”

You reel back with a wince, more hurt now than the slap across the face earlier.

The hand hangs limp in his own, touch matching his ever softening tone.

“No. That’s not… fuck.” A biting sigh. “I’m sorry. That’s hardly fair… How’m I supposed to call myself the fastest if I can’t even hack time management with my family.”

He returns his attentions to the inflamed palm. Draws you to his lips, all adoration.

“You know you can come to me with anything.”

And now he’s just gaslighting you.

Fingers splay across your neck and jaw… forcing your gaze, forcing your intimacy.

Your eyes well with tears when there’s nowhere to hide. He steals them away with a frown, lingering across the bruises that betray your sleep deprivation.

“Why are you crying?”

You push him with barely any fight left. “Please. Just go.”

As you thrash to get away, he can only fight to hold you closer. The pain spikes in an unforgiving swipe across your abdomen. You whine into his shoulder, shuddering into his arms.

He cradles your head to his chest with a soothing rock. Feathers run down your arms and back, all forgiveness.

“You know what would help…”

He’s the devil at your shoulder. You are fully aware of what he’s about to say.

“A baby won’t begin to fix this,” you break down. He has to strain to hear, this you know. “…won’t fix me.”

The warmth of his kiss bleeds under your skin. He thrums a gentle rap against your arm, just waiting for you to settle.

He shushes you, flying over his crimson helpers for an assist. A damp cloth. Dragon balm. Some medicinal chaser that tasted more like sewage runoff than remotely helpful.

Keigo carries you back to bed. He lays you down, spreads you out. You wince as he cleans his mess. Mercifully, you can’t see him. But you hear him. Feel him.

You make the sounds of him rustling with the cap. It’s mercifully warm on your abused muscles before the cooling menthol hits.

“Tell me the name.” Your blood runs cold as it registers what he’s asking of you.

He must’ve gotten to Magpie during their conjugal. Shit.

You swallow when he serves the crumbs anyways. “Little Birdie told me that our beloved Blue had heroic aspirations of her own, once upon a time.”

His touch roves over your legs to start, working the product into the meat of your thighs. He waits for what must feel like ages in his eyes… but it would never be long enough for you.

“C’mon. You’re really not gonna tell me?”

“Expect an answer, you’ll have to stop talking at some point,” you grouse.

Your breath catches on a strangled wail, meeting no resistance when he flips you.

“Quit your whining,” he snaps. “It’s all I ever hear from you. And fuck me for trying to make this marriage work, right?”

His touch is unrelenting. Prying the tension from the source, spreading his fingers over your lower back.

You try to reach out to him. Make him stop. Bat him away. Fight.

A feather nicks your hand away with the swipe of his whims.

“The name, Blue.” It’s not a grounding request anymore. “You give me the name, this all goes away.”

Starling flashes in mind and memory. If you could sleep, if you could dream—

“Freakebana!”

You curl in on yourself, pushing him with what little strength you have left from this ordeal. With any hope, your pride would be toll enough for him.

The one thing you had, gone in an instant. Precious and private, thoroughly yours. Now it was known to him. Sullied by his acknowledgement. He could twist your comfort and make it ugly—could do whatever he wanted, really.

Keigo was no stranger to it. This would be the least of his atrocities.

He nods to himself in quiet concert, seemingly mollified for now. Keigo leans beside you and presses a kiss over your bruising cheek. His idle touch traces the thrumming pulse before throwing the baby out with the bath water and simply scent marking your whole arm.

“Thank you,” he whispers into your wrist.

When Keigo rises from the bed, you keep yourself small. He crosses the room to the dresser. Out of the drawer and into his arms came the clothes meant for you.

You must have been a sorry sight if he’s dressing you in his boxer shorts and cotton undershirt over the negligée.

Again, woeful redundance. He’d disposed of your clothes in the first week, imposing a preference for nudity and teddies. What little he keeps on hand for himself, the only times your husband is liable to share are rare moments such as these.

Toe to toe, back to back.

He’s more patient coming back to you.

Two arms in each hole, ever minding your head as he finishes with the well worn v-neck. Right leg and the left until you’re left to your relative comforts.

“Just… I want you to think on it, yeah?”

You furrow your brow. “If this is about the fucking baby—”

On hands and knees, he remains unabashed in his desires. It’s an old tune, one he’s carried for years now.

A baby will cure your pain. A baby will give you purpose. A baby will soothe your broken heart.

Each and every argument has been run into the ground. He doesn’t need another mouth to feed, let alone want one. The others had been thrust into the position, far before their time or consent.

You were one of two holdouts, yes. But as ever, he remains a slave to his instincts. There were fledglings in his care and he craved their unborn siblings.

“I don’t want to fight,” he sighs. Scrubs a hand across his face like he actually believes it. “I just need you to know there’s an out for you. One that would make me very happy.”

You restrain yourself.

You let him kiss you.

You feel him leave your side.

Only when the door shuts behind him do you give yourself permission to fall apart.

Head pounding, pulse racing, a death rattle crawls from your lips.

The neon lighting bares down in an obtrusive vermilion that burns your eyes, ever the voyeur to your utter destruction.

#yandere keigo takami #yandere hawks #yandere hawks x reader #yandere keigo x reader #mha. fic #🎟️yandere🎟️#.mine #.freakebana #.keigo takami #.masterlist

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fairytale-poll · 6 months

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ROUND 1 INFO

Round 1 will be posted between Friday, November 10th and Thursday, November 16th. It will be split between 4 sets, each set being posted on a different day. There will be a total of 128 participants (32 participants in each individual set) divided in 64 polls (16 polls in each individual set). By the end of Round 1, 64 participants will make it to Round 2 while the rest will be sent to the Shadow Realm where their souls will be tormented for eternity. Each poll will last a week. As the sets are posted, I will link them below.

ROUND 1A

Cinderella (Disney's Cinderella Animated) vs. Ella (Disney's Cinderella Live-Action Remake)

Hatsune Miku as Cinderella (Various Songs) (Vocaloid) vs. Hello Kitty as Cinderella (Hello Kitty no Cinderella)

Cinderella/Aschenputtel/Cendrillon (German/General European Fairytale Variant) vs. Vasilisa the Beautiful (Russian/East European Fairytale Variant)

Rhodopis (Greek Fairytale Variant) vs. Ye Xian (Chinese Fairytale Variant)

Hamupipőke (Hungarian Fairytale Variant) vs. Eun Ha Won (Cinderella with Four Knights)

Mireleh (The Way Meat Loves Salt by Nina Jaffe/Louise August) vs. Settarah (The Persian Cinderella by Shirley Climo/Robert Florczak)

Cendrillon (Otogi-Juushi Akazukin) vs. Leila Takashiro (Hime Chen! Otogi Chikku Idol Lilpri)

Hoshizora Miyuki / "Cure Happy" as Cinderella (Smile PreCure/Glitter Force) vs. Mofurun as "Mofurella" (Mahou Tsukai PreCure)

Giselle Lai (Cinderelle) vs. Isabell Heartwell (Cinder's Ball)

Cinderella (Grimms Notes) vs. Cinderella Mary Skelter)

Queen Cinderella Charming (The Land of Stories by Chris Colfer) vs. Ella of Maidenvale / Cinderella (The School for Good and Evil by Soman Chainani)

Eleanor / Cinderella (The Wide-Awake Princess by E.D. Baker) vs. Elegant "Ella" Herringbone Coach (Disenchanted: The Trials of Cinderella by Megan Morrison)

Vassa (Vassa in the Night by Sarah Porter) vs. Vasilisa "Vasya" Petrovna (The Winternight trilogy by Katherine Arden)

Cinderella (Fables) vs. Cinderella "Cindy" Baxter (The Sisters Grimm)

Mia Basile (Cinderella the Cat) vs. Rose Cinderella (Regal Academy)

Maria Aparecida "Cida" dos Santos Souza (Cheias de Charme) vs. La Cenerentola (La Cenerento Laossia La Bontà in Trionfo)

ROUND 1B

Ella of Frell (Ella Enchanted book by Gail Carson Levine) vs. Ella of Frell (Ella Enchanted movie)

Cinderellis (Cinderellis and the Glass Hill by Gail Carson Levine) vs. Danielle Whiteshore (nee de Glas) (Princess series by Jim C. Hines)

Imogen Keegan (Damsel Distressed by Kelsey Macke) vs. Jess Parker (The Cinderella Society by Kay Cassidy)

Cinderella/Prinzessin (Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters & Yu-Gi-Oh! TCG) vs. Fairy Tail - Rella (Yu-Gi-Oh! TCG)

Cindy (How to Save Your Tail by Mary Elizabeth Hanson) vs. Cinderumpelstiltskin (The Stinky Cheese Man by Jon Scieszka/Lane Smith)

Cinder Edna (Cinder Edna by Ellen Jackson) vs. Cinderella (Cinderella Penguin, or, the Little Glass Flipper by Janet Perlman)

Cindy (If the Shoe Fits by Julie Murphy) vs. Elle Wittimer (Geekerella by Ashley Poston)

Bronwyn Murdoch (The Prince Who Loved Me by Karen Hawkins) vs. Sophie Beckett (An Offer From a Gentleman by Julia Quinn)

Ella (Cinder Ella by S.T. Lynn) vs. Cynthia "Cyn" Robinson (Cinders) (Sapphic Fairy Tales by Cara Malone)

Lucinda Jarvis (Grimm) vs. Queen Cinderella (10th Kingdom)

Sam Montgomery (A Cinderella Story) vs. Mary Santiago (Another Cinderella Story)

Katie Gibbs (A Cinderella Story: Once Upon a Song) vs. Cinderella (Cinderella 2021)

Cinderella (Bad Cinderella) vs. Ella (Happily N'Ever After)

Ella (The Glass Slipper) vs. Cinderella (The Slipper and the Rose)

Ashlynn Ella (Ever After High) vs. Threadarella (Monster High: Scarily Ever After)

Danielle de Barbarac (Ever After) vs. Popelka (Three Wishes for Cinderella)

ROUND 1C

Miss Piggy as "Lady Holiday" (The Great Muppet Caper) vs. CinderElmo (Sesame Street: CinderElmo)

Minnie Mouse as "Minnie-rella" (Mickey Mouse Clubhouse) vs. Baby Gonzo as "Gonzo-rella" (Muppet Babies 2018)

Brittany Miller as Cinderella (Alvin and the Chipmunks) vs. Scrooge McDuck as "Scroogerello" (Ducktales)

Chuckie Finster as "Finsterella" (Rugrats) vs. Cinderella (Sabrina: The Animated Series)

Fella (Cinderfella) vs. Popeye the Sailor Man as "Cinderfella" (Popeye the Sailor man: Ancient Fishtory)

Betty Boop as Cinderella (Betty Boop: Poor Cinderella) vs. Cinderella (Swing Shift Cinderella)

Barbie as Cinderella (Barbie Dolls) vs. Yasmin as Cinderella (Bratz: Kids Fairy Tales)

Cinderella (Collector Plates) vs. Ella (Total Drama: Pahkitew Island)

Touya Kinomoto as Cinderella (Cardcaptor Sakura) vs. Saki Hanajima as "Cinderella-ish" (Fruits Basket)

Reki Kyan as "Cindereki" (Sk8 the Infinity) vs. Mettaton as Cinderella (Undertale)

Cinderella (Stand of Aya Tsuji) (Jojo's Biazzre Adventure Part 4: Diamond is Unbreakable) vs. Cendrillon (Persona of Sumi Yoshizawa/Violet) (Persona 5)

Cinderella (Once Upon a Crime) vs. Dulcie Hastings (nee Duveen) aka Cinderella (Murder on the Links) (Hercule Poirot series by Agatha Christie)

Scarecrow as "Scarecrowella" (D'Ocon Mumfie) vs. Ella Brown (Just Ella by Margaret Peterson Haddix)

Princess Petra / Spinstress as "Spinderella" (Earth-423) (Marvel Comics) vs. Cinderella (Girl Genius Fairytale Theater Break: Cinderella)

Cendrillon (Cendrillon by Telephone) vs. Cinderella (Cinderella by The Cheetah Girls)

Harper Finkle as "Harperella" (Wizards of Waverly Place) vs. Morgan Philip (Disenchanted)

ROUND 1D

Cinderella (Dimension 20: Neverafter) vs. Cinders (Once Upon a Time in Space by the Mechanisms)

Linh Cinder / Selene Blackburn (The Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer) vs. Cinderella (Rodgers & Hammerstein's Cinderella 1997)

Carrie White (Carrie by Stephen King) vs. Cinder Fall (RWBY)

Cinderella (Into the Woods) vs. Cinderella / Princess Ella / Ashley Boyd (Once Upon a Time)

Cinderella (Kingdom Hearts) vs. Cinderella (Shrek series)

Cinders (Cinders) vs. Lucette Riella Britton (Cinderella Phenomenon)

Cinderella (SINoALICE) vs. Cinderella (TAISHO x ALICE)

Cinderella (Sid Story) vs. Rin Hoshiora as Cinderella (Love Live)

Aisling "Ash" (Ash by Malinda Lo) vs. Xing Xing (Bound by Donna Jo Napoli)

Clara (Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister by Gregory Maguire) vs. Ella Saturday (Witches Abroad) (Discworld series by Terry Pratchett)

Euphemia "Effie" Reeves (Ten Thousand Stitches by Olivia Atwater) vs. Kate Kassell / Nate Ganymede (After the Ball)

Cinderella (Burn the Witch) vs. Shindou Rei (Boku wa Ohime-sama ni Narenai)

Cinderella (Cinderella Monogatari) vs. Haine Otomiya / "Seashore Cinderella" (The Gentleman's Alliance Cross)

Ghauri (Azure Striker Gunvolt) vs. Miyo Saimori (My Happy Marriage)

Ashley Vans (A Wicked Tale of Cinderella's Stepmom / I Raised Cinderella Preciously) vs. Cinciarell Winchestion (Don't Call Javotte an Evil Stepsister)

Cinderella (Blood Bank) vs. Itsumi Tachibana (You Are My Princess)

#cinderpoll #round 1 #poll tournament #poll bracket #character polls #polls #cinderella

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robfanforlife · 3 months

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LA Times. Sundance FF 'Damsel' [2018]

#robert pattinson

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thenotsobad-thebad-andtheugly · 2 months

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Damsel (2018)

#damsel #david zellner #nathan zellner #robert pattinson #mia wasikowska #western #zellner bros

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raccoonhearteyes · 1 year

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November 5th, 2018

There’s a beautiful girl asleep on Clarke’s apartment rooftop. Her makeup is smudged under her eyes, and she looks a little bit like a raccoon, but she’s still so pretty. She’s curled up on a patio lounge chair, shivering in her sweatshirt and snuggling a book of Sappho’s poems.

She’s torn between waking her up and leaving her to sleep, but on closer inspection her lips are starting to look a little blue and Clarke worries she’s hypothermic. She crouches down so she’s on eye level, softly running a thumb over the apple of her cheek. The girl mumbles something quietly, and Clarke repeats the motion, “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Clarke…no,” she mumbles again.

Did she just say my name? No, of course not. She’s just sleep talking. “Come on, sweetheart, wake up,” Clarke tries again, shaking her gently.

The girl shivers and sits up, a dazed look on her face as she tugs her sweater tighter around her shoulders. It’s a cold, cloudy morning. Not a day anyone would choose to come out to read, which suggests that this poor girl fell asleep here last night when the sun hung golden in the evening air, and the stars started to peek through the lights of the city.

“It’s freezing out here,” says Clarke, pulling the girl to her feet, “Come on.” Clarke doesn’t even think to question it. She finds a shivering girl on her roof, and decides it is her duty to warm her up and make sure she’s alright. Clarke tugs her towards the rooftop door and leads her down the stairs to her apartment. The girl follows in a sleep-addled daze.

Clarke’s apartment door swings open into chaos. “Sorry for the mess. I wasn’t expecting to entertain this morning,” Clarke tells her.

The girl quietly nods and says, “As long as the heat is on.”

Clarke starts flitting around the kitchen to make tea. She fishes two of her favorite mugs out of the cabinet above the counter, sprinkles a dusting of cinnamon onto the bottom to add an extra burst of warmth, and settles a tea bag in each.

Clarke leans back against the counter while waiting for their tea, and studies her guest. She watches her look around the apartment from her perch on the stool.

“You paint?” the girl asks, gesturing at the stacks of canvas and mugs full of brushes.

“I do,” wide smile spreading over her face, “Portraits mostly. Tasteful porn, my friend Raven calls it. But she just likes to watch me get defensive over it. I paint beautiful things. The lines and curves of the body are hidden by clothes, and I want to get the person’s full essence. There’s beauty in that vulnerability.”

She slides the mug over to her shivering damsel a moment later. Clarke watches the girl intently as she cups the mug with both hands and breaths in slow and deep and takes a sip, “Good, right? The secret is a dash of cinnamon.”

The girl’s lip quivers as she nods into her tea and takes another sip. “Can I look through some of your paintings?”

She flips through the canvases leaning on the nearest wall. Clarke just had some photos printed on some of them, others are paintings from her favorite coffee shop, and a few are models who sat for her. She pauses on a print of a naked back covered in a galaxy. The model’s face is too blurry to see.

“That’s one of my favorites actually,” Clarke adds, “You kind of look like her.”

The girl reddens and Clarke watches her swallow a lump in her throat. They have the same jawline.

“Don’t you know who she is?” the girl asks.

“Not really, I just remember painting on her, and the photos that resulted. Everything else just draws a blank. I guess I must have been really hyper-focused. Hopefully I paid her well because I clearly wasn’t a good conversationalist while I worked.”

Clarke’s voice dips lower, “That’s actually happened with more than one piece... I sold one back in September. It was my first major sale. Paid my rent for three months. I loved that piece, but I cannot for the life of me remember who she was. You remind me of that piece.”

She swallows and takes a few steps towards Clarke, “I do?”

Clarke puts a hand over her face. “God, that sounds like the worst pick up line in the world. I’m sorry. I’m going to go take a shower before I can embarrass myself even further.”

“I should probably get going anyway,” the girl responds.

Clarke bites her lip, “Do you have to?” She’s not sure why she says it. There’s something about the way this girl looks at her. The intensity to her gaze, how Clarke feels drawn to her like a sunflower seeking light.

The girl crashes their lips together, and while surprised, it’s not at all unwelcome as Clarke starts to kiss back in earnest.

It’s rougher than a first kiss should be. All teeth and tongue. Nipping at her neck like she’s trying to stake a claim. Hands are everywhere all at once, gripping so tightly, Clarke is sure she’ll have fingertip bruises on her hips and thighs tomorrow.

Clarke’s body reacts instantly, a flood to her core, a loud moan escaping her as she is pinned against her hallway wall. The girl hums in response, the vibrations carrying through Clarke’s chest and settling deep into her bones.

Hands don’t even fumble at the clasp of her jeans and are sliding through her moments later.

Why is she so good at this?

The girl starts gently, just teasing strokes while she licks a stripe up Clarke’s neck. Clarke’s starts to ask, “M--”, but her request for more is cut off by two fingers slipping inside her and setting a steady pumping pace.

Clarke’s head lolls back to thud against the wall. Her orgasm is already building quickly. It feels so good, but still Clarke needs more, and before she can think to verbalize it, a third finger is added to this maddening pace.

Why does she know exactly what I like without saying anything?

Clarke bites down on the shoulder in front of her, her own hands finding places that make the girl groan and stutter in her movements. Her jaw fits perfectly in Clarke’s hand when she pulls her down for a proper kiss.

Why does this feel so familiar?

Clarke grabs her free hand and tangles their fingers together. Her kiss is hungry, and Clarke meets her beat for beat, tugging roughly at hair, pressing closer, and closer. Clarke struggles to get air the way this girl is looking at her.

Why does she kiss me like she’s going to lose me?

Clarke’s almost over the edge with that look. One careful curl of fingers and Clarke breaks. It’s sudden and sharp and knocks the wind from her lungs, the ability to stand from her legs.

Clarke doesn't expect the gentle kiss on her cheek. Or the soft look in the girl’s eyes. When their eyes meet, she looks regretful, as if she’s apologizing, but for what Clarke isn’t sure.

Clarke doesn’t expect her own hand to reach up to tuck loose hair behind a tiny ear. Thumb tracing a strong jawline and guiding that mouth down to hers.

They fall into a tender kiss, one that feels out of place after the rough sex that just happened. It feels good. Safe, even. It feels right.

Before Clarke has time to fully dwell on that thought, she’s interrupted by a swift, “I have to go.” And suddenly there are feet of space between them. Her eyes look panicked and wild. Clarke fights the urge to chase her instead of letting her go.

#lexa #clexa #clexa au #clarke griffin #the invisible life of addie larue #also it’s on ao3 now

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memorydatas · 5 months

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hey i read your poetry piece on utena and chatgpt and i??? holy shit??? holy fuck???? its encapsulated SO MANY OF MY THOUGHTS ABOUT CHATGPT AND REFRAMED IT WITHIN THE CONTEXT OF THE ROSE BRIDE AND THAT ENDING HOLY SHIT I JUST

I'LL PROBABLY BE THINKING ABOUT IT FOR A LONG TIME AND I WILL PROBABLY MAKE A MUCH LARGER ANALYSIS WHEN IM MORE COHERENT BUT HOLY SHIT IM GOING TO BE ROTATING YOUR PIECE IN MY MIND FOR SO LONG

THE WAY AI SENTIENCE IS OFTEN FRAMED AS A DAMSEL IN DISTRESS IN BROADER SCIFI.. THE UTENAESQUE OF IT ALL... AGHHHHH IM GONNA CRY

i sent it to all my friends and cried about it in the groupchat

(hope u dont mind me ranting in my askbox but I JUST HAD TO SHARE MY LOVE FOR YOUR PIECE?? BECAUSE HOLY SHIT)

AUGH!!!!!! IM GLAD YOU LIKED IT!?!?!! it means a lot to me to hear other people understand what i was going for ;__; I know that ai and art using ai are a very touchy subject for a lot of understandable reasons but also as someone who’s been hyperfixated on ai generation AT LEAST since 2018 it’s hard not to feel. attached to it. i was wanting the piece to get across at least a microcosm of those emotions. 💜💜💜

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heartofstanding · 8 months

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Back in 2018, I started writing a story that centred on Joan (or Joanna) of Navarre and her arrival in England, namely her meeting her new stepsons. For various reasons, I never finished it and then later realised that I had made an error. Hal and Thomas had been in Wales and Ireland respectively when Joan arrived in England and neither attended the wedding (Hal sent a present, Thomas did not). The first time Joan could have seen all four of her stepsons together was November 1403, meaning that not only would she have met two, possibly three, of stepsons already, not only would she be more settled into England, but it was only a few months after Hal had been so gravely injured at the Battle of Shrewsbury. All of which means what I've written already is basically unsalvageable. There's just too much I'd have to change.

I do, however, think what I've written is good so instead of sadly allocating it to the bottom drawer, I'm going to share it below the cut so I don't feel too sad about not getting to use it.

From her room, Joanna could hear children playing. At first, the sound of her voices stung at her, reminding her of the children she had left behind, and she thought to have one of her women send them away so they would no longer bother her. But her mood changed and she did not mind the sound of them and, in fact, began to listen all the more acutely to their game. There were four of them, all boys, and she realised they were not all children. One of them – the eldest, most likely – spoke with the deeper tones of a young man, while another’s voice cracked and broke, moving between the cadences of boy and man.

Joanna raised a hand to the pearls looped around her neck, running her fingers over their smooth, cold shape – a gift from Henry for their wedding. A rich, thoughtful present, four strands of large, perfect pearls – though she was surprised he could afford it, given what she had gleamed about the parlous state of English finances. She had not asked him about it; she did not want to know if her arrival and dower caused consternation in parliament, if he was spending more money that he should not spend. She did not want to shame him. Besides, she had told herself, it was an expensive gift but not one that would change the avert the disaster facing his treasury.

‘I want Harry!’ one of the children yelled. ‘Harry, please!’

Joanna’s fingers slipped on her pearls. She recognised the voice, knew the boy. Humphrey, her husband’s youngest son – which, by some matter of law and custom, made him her son now. Four boys to replace the sons you leave behind, the oldest of her damsels had said when Joanna had dithered about this marriage, and they will be ripe for you to shape them. When their father is gone, they loyally will call you ‘mother’ and grant you whatever you please. Humphrey had been the only one she had met so far, tall and awkward after a growth spurt yet perfectly happy chattering on, especially when she let him talk about his brothers. He had seemed to like her, which suggested Henry’s other sons would – though, if she remembered correctly, Henry had once remarked that Humphrey was overly friendly with everyone.

‘That’s not fair,’ the other child said. ‘Harry, tell snot-face to stop being a baby and let me choose for once.’

‘John!’ Humphrey squealed.

Joanna squeezed her eyes shut. Humphrey, Harry and now John. These were definitely brothers. Her new sons. She went to the window where she could look down into the courtyard. Humphrey was clinging to the older boy who must be Harry – lean, sun-darkened and broad-shouldered, his hair cropped in a circle around the top of his skull – while a sturdily-built boy with a remarkable nose tried to pull Humphrey away. This must be John. The other boy, nearly as tall as Harry and blond, stood with brows raised, arms crossed over his chest.

‘Leave it, John,’ said Harry.

John’s face darkened. ‘He always gets his way. Just once, why can’t I get to pick?’

Joanna stifled her laughter. Such warring, strong boys. And they were hers now.

‘Because you’re ugly,’ said the other boy – Thomas, Joanna remembered. ‘And it’s my turn to pick.’

He drew it out, made them wait and plead and it was only when Harry said enough that Thomas grabbed Humphrey, yanking him away from Harry.

‘Mine!’

‘Come on,’ Harry said to John. ‘You can pick next time.’

John said something too quiet for Joanna to catch, but Harry smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. They were playing some sort of war-game, with the younger boys perched on the older boys’ shoulders. They were running at each other, attempting to knock each other over or hit each other. Such displays were not, in Joanna’s opinion, appealing. They were too violent and clumsy, lacking the grace of a joust. She liked Humphrey and did not want to see him hurt, even in play. But she supposed it was fun for the boys and a way of working out their energy without going through the ordeals of arming.

She would go down, she thought – not waiting for the meeting Henry would arrange – and meet these boys, her new sons, without stiff formality to stifle their mood. An impromptu meeting would make her seem more welcoming and their reactions to her would be more real and genuine than otherwise.

It was warm outside and the boys had worked up a sweat, panting as they ran around. Joanna wanted to watch them before intruding, but Harry saw her and stopped short and only just sidestepped as Thomas went to barrel into him. Both of the older boys stopped and Humphrey let out a yell of recognition. Joanna smiled and stepped forward, opening her mouth to begin with some pleasant greeting.

‘Who gave you them?’ Thomas demanded.

‘What?’ Joanna said.

‘Those pearls,’ Thomas said. ‘Mother’s pearls. Blanche should have them.’

‘Or Philippa,’ said John.

Joanna’s cheeks flushed. The pearls – were they no more than a reused gift Henry had given his first wife?

‘But—’ Humphrey said.

Had Henry gone so far to take his daughter’s jewellery as a gift to her? Joanna’s nostrils flared – she did not want to be so humiliated, to be seen as so avaricious that her new husband must steal from his daughter to satisfy her need for riches and presents.

‘Blanche does have them,’ Harry said.

‘Right,’ Thomas said, frowning.

‘Joanna’s nice,’ Humphrey said with some uncertainty, looking between Harry and her, his arms resting on Thomas’s head.

‘You think everyone’s nice, little traitor,’ Thomas said and promptly shrugged Humphrey off, dropping him to the ground.

Harry grabbed Humphrey’s shoulder and shot a look at Thomas. ‘Leave him alone.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Joanna said. ‘I didn’t know…’

She trailed off, not sure what she meant to say. She didn’t know the pearl necklace had been like their mother’s? That they were so touchy – Henry said, when she asked, that they didn’t talk about his dead wife – Mary, Joanna remembered – that often and she had assumed that meant they had been too young to remember her well.

‘We’re sorry,’ Harry said as John climbed down from his shoulders. ‘You’ve caught us by surprise, your grace.’

‘Don’t speak for me,’ Thomas said. ‘The only thing I’m sorry about is that she’s here.’

Joanna straightened her shoulders. If one of her own children had spoke to her like that – well, a child of hers would not have dared. Would their mother have tolerated it, she wondered – someone had to, or else Thomas would not be so rude now. But she did not think that scolding him would achieve much now. Perhaps later, when he loved her, trusted her.

‘Why are you sorry about that?’ she said. ‘Do you wish for your father to be unhappy?’

Thomas said nothing, staring at her with rude dislike. He shook his head and turned his face towards Harry, clearly deferring to him.

‘Of course not,’ Harry said. ‘As I said, you’ve caught us by surprise. We were not meant to meet until later.’

‘I interrupted your game,’ she said. ‘I am sorry for that, only I could not wait to meet you.’

‘That’s alright,’ said John.

He and Humphrey had clustered around Harry and she saw how they were waiting for him to speak, to tell them how they should behave towards. But Harry’s face was carefully pleasant, neither openly hostile like Thomas or anxious like John or uncertainly pleased like Humphrey. She could not read what he thought of her, could not fathom what he wanted from her to give it to him.

She stood straighter, gathered her thoughts.

‘I have no desire to be your enemy,’ she said. ‘I have come to marry your father because I care for him and believe we shall be good companions, and I am pleased to meet you all – though the circumstances may be lacking – because he speaks highly of his sons.’

There was a slight flicker in Harry’s face that Joanna could not decipher, but the younger boys beamed while Thomas rolled his eyes.

‘I know there is usually tension between a new wife and the children already born,’ she said, flicking a speck of dust from her skirts. ‘But I see no reason why that tension should exist for us. You are young still and I will gladly be a mother to you.’

A disgusted noise tore out of Thomas’s mouth. ‘I can’t believe this. I can’t,’ he said. He looked at Harry. ‘Tell her.’

Harry drew himself up. ‘Your grace,’ he said. ‘Your offer is very kind and I am sure John, Humphrey and Philippa are very grateful. But we already have a mother.’

‘But she’s dead,’ Joanna said.

It was too blunt. Thomas started forward and Humphrey grabbed hold of him, trying to hold him back.

‘We are aware of that,’ said Harry, still in that carefully polite voice. ‘We pray for her soul at every mass we attend. Dead or not, she is still our mother.’

There, at least, his reserve seemed to break and Joanna wished it hadn’t. It was only glimpse of a deep abyss of untempered grief and longing. Beneath his careful pleasantness, he was still a boy who longed for his mother and would accept no substitute. He must have been older than she thought when his mother died.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

Harry shrugged.

She cleared her throat again, tried to remember her resolve. Thomas was staring at her now, still hostile, though he laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

#sometimes i write things #lancasterlings #there's some awkwardness in the writing because it is like 5 years old but i still think its good #i never know what to call joan/joanna

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slenderverse-pride-parade · 1 year

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It is officially Everymanhybrid's anniversary and tbh i could go on a 10 hour rant about how this series changed me back in 2018 but that would be too long so instead I'm gonna type my favorite hcs for each of the main cast

Vinnie Everyman (he/she)

I know his last name isn't actually Everyman but it's funny to me okay. She looks like he would be a country bumpkin. The most mature one in the group and is kinda the voice of reason when it comes to any of these fuckers making bad descions. I feel like she would definetly collect little trinkets, like old dvds or something.

Jeffrey Koval (he/him)

This is an inside joke between me and my friend Liu. But basically Jeff calls ovens and stoves.. stoven. This is because when he was younger him and Alex were home alone and their mom asked them to keep an eye on the oven and Alex thought she meant the stove.

Turns out it was hilarious to them to combine the words to the point they forgot about it and their house almost burned down.

Evan Meyers (he/it)

His collection of machetes just keeps getting bigger as times goes on. It probably has them in his closet even. Despite that though yeah Evan is a sweetheart idc. Only bad thing it has ever done is sit down and force Vinnie and Jeff to watch Death Proof with him (trust me. That movie is something else.)

Stephanie/Damsel (she/they)

She was definetly into really obscure fandoms. I feel like if them and Stormy ever met they would both be Homestuck best friends. She probably learned to be chaotic as Hell from Evan. Luckily survived the watching of Death Proof because they weren't around at the time.

HABIT (he/it)

Oh yeah this fucker is here. When he isn't being a menace to society and everything as a whole, i like to think it actually is very interested in learning more human stuff. Like his personality and mannerisms are all learned from watching TV so they are just extremely exaggerated.

Sorry my posts keep being all over the place but tbh i just post what i want at this point. God i love Everymanhybrid go watch it right now OOoOoOoO you wanna watch it so badly

#slenderverse #everymanhybrid #vinnie everyman #vinnie emh #jeffrey koval #jeff emh #stephanie emh #damsel emh #evan meyers #evan emh #emh habit #habit emh

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alecbicheno · 4 months

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Blog post 10 - Representation of women in games

The way women have been represented in video games has evolved significantly over the years, often reflecting societal and cultural changes. The portrayal of female characters has gone through a complex transformation; however, challenges and criticisms still persist.

History of representation

In the early years, female characters were often portrayed in a stereotypical manner, with a common portrayal being the damsel in distress trope such as Princess Peach and Zelda, where they would later be the reward or prize for the male protagonist.

In the 80s the 90s, we see iconic characters who broke away from traditional stereotypes like Samus Aran, who was a strong independent character whose gender was hidden to be a surprise reveal to players. Lara Croft is another example, however her design featured very unrealistic proportions which would be adjusted in later games.

In the 2000s, despite progress there were persistent challenges and some instances of regressive representation. Many games continued to objectify and sexualize women, for example Grand Theft Auto III (2001) and every instalment since has featured women as sex workers.

The gaming industry continued to grow and with it so the demands for better representation. In the 2010s we got to see some complex characters such Ellie from The Last of Us (2013), who had depth and were central to the narrative.

As we reached the 2020s great strides had been taken towards better representation. We got games with strong, well executed female protagonists such as Aloy from Horizon Zero Dawn (2017) and Horizon Forbidden West (2022). We also saw examples of complex and believable female protagonists in indie games like Madeline from the game Celeste (2018).

Examples

Lara Croft is a character we were first introduced to in Tomb Raider (1996) and while she was a strong female character, there were many criticisms about her appearance, especially in earlier iterations. Her design focused on exaggerated and unrealistic physical proportions which contributed to the objectification of women in games and reinforced harmful beauty standards, furthermore the focus on her sexualised appearance overshadowed her character depth. Eventually she got a complete redesign in the reboot to the series Tomb Raider (2013), where she is a well-proportioned, more suitably dressed protagonist who also becomes more a fully realised character with flaws, who learns and is overall just more human.

The GTA series of games has often been talk of controversy for the way it glorifies sexual harassment and violence against women characters. In many GTA titles female characters are often objectified and reduced to hyper sexualized roles, such as sex workers like mentioned above. The games frequently depict scenes with derogatory language as well as violence against women, this reinforces negative stereotypes and misogynistic behaviour, as well as contributing to a culture of sexism amongst the gaming community. The larger concern, however, is that the exposure to these things can cause it to become so normalised that when instances of violence and sexual harassment occur in real life, people won’t be as shocked or empathetic about it.

A decade before Lara Croft in Metroid (1986) we were introduced to Samus Aran, who stands out as a positive example of female representation. Her surprise reveal at the end of the game broke the gender norms by showcasing a woman as a powerful and capable space bounty hunter. Since then, she has been consistently portrayed as strong character, her narrative not being driven by damsel-in-distress scenarios or romantic situations, but instead by her battle against threats and the pursuit of justice. Then as the series progressed, she became a well-rounded character with depth and resilience, whose legacy has consistently helped challenge stereotypes surrounding female characters.

Aloy, the protagonist of Horizon Zero Dawn (2017) and Horizon Forbidden West (2022) is a more recent example of positive female representation in videogames. She defies the traditional gender expectations as a skilled and determined hunter in her post-apocalyptic world and is defined by her intelligence, resourcefulness and sense of justice. Her narrative doesn’t revolve around romantic plots but rather a quest for knowledge and understanding of the world she inhabits. Her design is also a great part of her character, not being objectified or sexualised so players connect with her through her personality and abilities. She is a testament to the gaming industry’s ability to create diverse and empowering female protagonists, and the popularity of her character only proves this, setting a standard for future portrayals of women.

What can be done?

Challenging stereotypical representations of women requires diverse character creation by developers which will help ensure depth beyond their appearance. This is something I aim to achieve in my field of 3D modelling, making sure that I avoid exaggerated features and prioritize authenticity in the physical appearance.

There will need to be a large collaborative effort from developers, players, and the industry as a whole in order to create positive change on this matter. Celebrating games that break the traditional norms will incentivize developers towards more of these narratives, and there are also certain discussions that need to be had within the gaming community about gender representation and awareness, as well as education on these matters in order to create positive change.

An interesting example of change is the recently revealed next instalment in the GTA series, which features a female protagonist called Lucia. This is a huge step for Rockstar Games, especially considering the above-mentioned history and controversies and even though the game isn’t set to release till 2025, it will be interesting to see the depiction of Lucia and other female characters in the game.

Bibliography

CORE DESIGN. (1996) Tomb Raider. [DISC] PlayStation. London: Eidos Interactive

CRYSTAL DYNAMICS. (2013) Tomb Raider. [DISC] Xbox One. London: Square Enix Europe

DMA DESIGN. (2001) Grand Theft Auto III. [DISC] Xbox. New York City: Rockstar Games

GUERRILLA GAMES. (2022) Horizon Forbidden West. [DISC] PlayStation 4. San Mateo: Sony Interactive Entertainment

GUERRILLA GAMES. (2017) Horizon Zero Dawn. [DISC] PlayStation 4. San Mateo: Sony Interactive Entertainment

Harris, W. & Phillips, R., 2023. 23 Best Video Games With Female Protagonists. [Online] Available at: https://www.thegamer.com/best-video-games-female-protagonists/#night-in-the-woods [Accessed 29 December 2023].

Harveston, K., 2023. A Brief History Of Female Representation In Video Games. [Online] Available at: https://headstuff.org/topical/female-representation-in-video-games-history/#:~:text=History%20indicates%20that%20women%20began,good%20example%20of%20that%20trend. [Accessed 29 December 2023].

MADDY MAKES GAMES. (2018) Celeste. [DISC] Xbox One. Vancouver: Maddy Makes Games

NAUGHTY DOG. (2013) The Last of Us. [DISC] PlayStation3. Santa Monica: Sony Computer Entertainment

NINTENDO R&D1, INTELLIGENT SYSTEMS. (1986) Metroid. [GAME] Nintendo Entertainment System. Kyoto: Nintendo

Williams, H., 2020. How Horizon Zero Dawn Moves Beyond The Strong Female Character. [Online] Available at: https://www.kotaku.com.au/2020/08/how-horizon-zero-dawn-moves-beyond-the-strong-female-character/ [Accessed 29 December 2023].

#Sources and Significance

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