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unityrain24 · 1 year ago

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ok people here's my essay. (also note that this was for my english class so it is written in a different style than i usually would. it had to be all formal and grammatically correct and such)

2212 words, analytical essay

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power: A Queer Allegory for Religious Trauma

ND Stevenson’s She-Ra and The Princesses of Power is an animated Netflix original series rebooting the classic 80s show Shera: Princess of Power. This time, however, the show is chalk-full of diversity, varied body types, queer representation, pleasing colour palettes, and a friends-to-enemies-to-lovers lesbian romance. The first four seasons follow Adora (aka She-Ra) and the princesses of Etheria’s fight against the Evil Horde, using their magic to try bringing peace and justice to the planet. A portal is opened at the end of the fourth season, however, bringing the planet of Etheria out of the isolated dimension of Despondos. No longer separated from the rest of the universe, Horde Prime arrives at Etheria- not only bringing higher stakes than any season preceding it, but an entirely new layer of symbolism to the series. The final season was a clear allegory for religious trauma, an especially relevant topic for the show’s majorly queer audience.

When his armada arrives at Etheria, Horde Prime sends his army of clones and robots down to take the planet by force. Unlike the Evil Horde that had been trying to take the planet before Prime’s arrival, who were disorganized, messy, and industrial, everything under Prime is sleek, elegant, efficient, and most importantly: white. Horde Prime’s ships are white, Horde Prime’s robots are white. Horde Prime’s skin is white, his hair is white, his clothes are white, as are all his clones. Pure, unblemished white, with only sparing accents of grey or green.

In colour theory, white has a few meanings. The colour can represent purity, cleanliness, innocence, and even righteousness. This colour theory is heavily incorporated into biblical verses, metaphors, and artwork (and some might even argue that our modern idea of white comes from the Bible). In art, God and angels are almost always depicted wearing white, as is Jesus in his resurrection. Halos of white or light yellow are shown adorning holy figures' heads. Several bible verses use white robes or other white objects as a metaphor of the wearer’s purity. White is still used in several Christian rituals/customs today, such as weddings, baptisms, and more. White is one of (if not the) most important colour in Christian lore. Even in instances where pure white isn’t used, there is a clear correlation between light versus dark and good versus evil.

White has more than one meaning, however- on the opposite side of the coin, white can also represent coldness, blankness, emptiness, and loneliness. The most interesting thing about the show’s use of white is that it encapsulates both facets of its representation. Horde Prime uses white to represent his purity and perfection, but to the people of the colourful, messy world Etheria, this is a cold, eerie colour. As are Horde Prime’s ideals. His perfection and purity is synonymous to coldness. The white represents both- not only simultaneously, but as the same thing.

Horde Prime’s empire being entirely white is no coincidence- neither in-story by Prime, nor in real life by the writers. Horde prime uses white to represent everything he stands for, and the writers use white to represent everything Christianity stands for.

Horde Prime is a being that has lived an amount of lifetimes beyond comprehension- every time his body starts to grow old and fail, he selects a new clone of his to insert his memory and very essence into. So even though he has a new body, he is still him. And the reason for this? To fulfill his self imposed purpose of bringing peace and perfection to the universe. To thousands of planets he has been, one at a time, to reach this. Horde Prime believes there is only one right way to do things, and that humanity cannot be trusted to govern themselves.

Every planet he takes goes the same: he arrives with his ships, and slowly implants chips into the neck of each and every being on a planet. These chips take away the autonomy of the host, and they are left blank. No personality, no choices, no person. All their actions are perfectly automated and controlled by a hive mind, and Horde Prime can take specific control of and see through the eyes of any individual at any given time. With Horde Prime in control, there is no war, no famine, no pain. There is only peace, perfection, and purity. And anyone who does not conform, does not accept his gracious rule, are dealt with accordingly. Entire planets have been left desolate and barren, entire peoples subjected to genocide for not accepting Horde Prime. All dead in the name of peace.

These ideals upheld by Horde Prime are strikingly similar to Christianity. Perfection and purity are two of the main ideals of Christianity, in hand with righteousness. Christians strive to “be like Jesus,” to be their idea of a good person, to be loyal to their religion, and to make it into Heaven. Several rituals to “repent” exist when they feel they have not upheld these standards correctly- including prayer, confessionals, sacrament, and baptism. Even though true perfection, purity, and righteousness are typically seen as unattainable to everyone but the Godhead, it is common belief that constant trying will at least get you as close to it as possible. Conformity is another key aspect of Christianity, though it is not advertised, and to the exact extent it is upheld depends on the sect. In general, though, Christianity pressures every one of its followers (and even those who aren’t) to behave a certain way, to think a certain way, and to only associate with others among themselves.

Horde Prime’s way of upholding these ideals isn’t dissimilar to Christianity’s either. Much like Horde Prime’s Galactic Empire, Christianity has had a long history of forced assimilation. From the Spanish conquistadors to the pilgrims and other colonial settlers of North America, death and pain has come in the wake of the spread of Christianity for hundreds of years, amongst various sects of the religion. Native peoples have been murdered for their loyalty to their “savage” non-Christian ways, land has been stolen, and indigenous religions and other important cultural traditions have been changed past recognition or completely erased, all in the name of “saving,” all in the name of “love,” all in the name of “what’s right,” all in the name of God. Christianity is the only right way, Horde Prime is the only right way.

Its likeness to Christianization isn’t the only resemblance Horde Prime’s ways share with Christianity, however. When Horde Prime arrives at Etheria, three people are brought aboard his ship- Queen Glimmer, one of the Etherian rebels that had been fighting against the Evil Horde (and now the Galactic Empire), Catra, a high-ranking member of the Evil Horde that had been taking over Etheria before the Galactic Empire arrived (but is in love with Adora, who is one of the rebels), and Hordak, the leader of the Evil Horde. Hordak was a clone of Horde Prime’s that had been stranded on Etheria, which was in an isolated dimension. He spent his time in isolation trying to take the planet so that if he was ever reunited with Horde Prime, he would be seen as “worthy”. Horde Prime, however, is displeased by Hordak’s actions- claiming that Hordak was trying to take the planet for selfish reasons rather than for Horde Prime, and for giving himself a name. As such, Hordak must be “purified.”

In this purification process, Hordak’s mind is wiped, and he begs for forgiveness and to complete the process. He is then dressed in white and walks into a circular pool with liquid that reaches his waist. The liquid is electrified for several moments, and his screams can be heard, and then it stops. He is left blank, and Horde Prime and the other clones watching praise him for being the purest among them. Later, Catra is subjected to the same process against her will, and is now a mindless servant of Horde Prime as well. This process is almost identical to the Christian concept of Baptism. While exactly how baptism is carried out varies between sects (full submersion under water versus just a sprinkling, infant versus child, etc), the purpose remains the same- to purify past sins.

A more abstract similarity between Horde Prime’s empire and Christianity is the use of titles. Prime’s clones refer to each other as “brother” (and to Catra as “sister,” once she has been “purified”), and Horde Prime as “big brother.” Not all sects of Christianity use such titles to refer to each other, but some do; notably Catholic nuns or members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (Mormons). But even those sects who do not refer to each other as brother and sister often view Jesus as their “older brother” and God as their “heavenly father.”

Horde Prime himself has many more titles than simply “brother” or Emperor of the Galactic Horde, however. Other titles given to him include Ruler of the Known Universe, Regent of the Seven Skies, He Who Brings the Day and the Night, Revered one of the Shining galaxies, and Promised one of a Thousand Suns. In Christianity, Jesus also is referred to by many names. The Saviour, the Redeemer, the Son of God, the Son of Man, King of Kings, Lord of Lords, the Prince of Peace, the Lamb of God, and several more. In addition to titles, some of the phrases in general used by Christians and the Galactic Empire are common. Both use the word “rejoice” when telling of their faith. Amongst Christians, “glory to God in the highest” and “[God] is the same yesterday, today, and forever” are not uncommon phrases. “Glory be to Horde Prime” is a common phrase expressed by the clones, and even more so, the infamous mantra “Horde Prime sees all, Horde Prime knows all” repeated so many times throughout the season.

The titles used for each other perpetuate a feeling of conformity and a feeling of “otherness” concerning those who do not conform. The titles used for their leaders perpetuate subservience, power imbalances, respect, and devotion. The phrases used in relation to their leaders perpetuate devotion and omnipotence. These are true of both Horde Prime’s Galactic Empire and Christianity.

Horde Prime was a genuinely disturbing villain who represented every painful thing Christianity is made of- toxic perfectionism and purity, conformity, obedience, control, and omnipotence. Loss of expression and individuality. The fear of being constantly watched. These are things that anyone with religious trauma may deal with, but it’s especially true of queer people. Queer people have had a long history of oppression at the hand of Christianity (and colonialism in general). From outright murder to conversion therapy and other abuses, from abandonment to dismissal, Christianity has perpetuated all of it for centuries. And it’s still something that happens today.

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power has a majorly queer audience, due to both the creative process of the show and the representation within the series itself. Not only is the creator of the series (ND Stevenson) queer, but so was practically every character- whether they were a main character, side character, or background character with only a few seconds of screen time. One of the main plots of the show is the complicated lesbian romance between Adora and Catra. As such, the series attracted a good number of queer fans, and religious trauma (or at the very least, religious fear) is a topic that hits uncomfortably close for many.

Other pieces of media that incorporate religious imagery have a tendency to be unclear about how it is framed. Is the imagery shown to be wrong and the victim is right and prevails? Is the imagery shown to be right, and the pained victim in terrified denial? Is the imagery shown to be truly wrong but inevitably triumphant anyways, no matter what the victim tries? It is so muddy in so many pieces of media. The important thing about the fifth season of She-Ra and the Princesses of Power was how it was framed. Perhaps it was because it was a kids show, or perhaps it was the queer creators’ spirit and defiance, but the series was clear in their framing of Horde Prime. The perfect white make the audience uneasy. Horde Prime’s retelling of his victories fill the audience with dread and then hollowness. The “baptisms” of Hordak and Catra are disturbing. Every aspect of Horde Prime and everything he stood for was presented as wrong. Without any doubt.

And even more importantly, the people of Etheria were able to prevail. She-Ra and the other princesses were able to defeat Horde Prime and his empire, and free those forced into subservience by his chips. Catra (and Hordak) were saved. The ships were destroyed. The people of Etheria were allowed to be free and express themselves and be people. This message was something very important to the queer audience. Not only was the fifth season an expression of queer pain, but an expression of queer hope. Neither thing should be ignored. Pain is valid. Hope is needed. To be healthy, both need to be recognized. To have a series that expressed both, and in such a queer way, was extremely important to so many people.

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righthandshuttle · 1 year ago

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You are, by far, the most spiciest Starscream variant I have ever met to date.

@righthandshuttle i'm going to eradicate you, bitchbot. you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid.

#like i thought the gray ones were bad but wow #2ndCommand #;; verse: armada

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righthandshuttle · 9 months ago

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His armor feels so tight. He feels like if he moves he'll explode. His nerves are thin and the mind races.

Maybe taking down Primus knows how much highgrade and nothing else for the day was a bad move after all.

#;; ic status #;; verse: armada

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ask-dusk-on-unicrons-planet · 2 years ago

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VERSES / AU´S

˗ˏˋ ˖ Rules || Character || Verses || Promo ✶

verse: Unicron Dark Planet

verse: Monster but still Human Inside

verse: Species Swap

verse: Techno-Organic

verse: They left us to Die

verse: Saved by Primus

verse: Shattered Glass

#post #verse: Unicron Dark Planet #verse: Monster but still Human Inside #verse: Species Swap #verse: Techno-Organic #verse: They left us to Die #verse: Saved by Primus #verse: Shattered Glass #[❌ do not interact | private ❗]#🎊 Worth a look / 📣 promoted | promo #✶ self promo ✶#[✶ TFG1 ASK ✶]#[✶ RESCUE BOTS ASK ✶]#[✶ TF ARMADA ASK ✶]#[✶ TF EARTHSPARK ASK ✶]#[✶ TFP ASK ✶]#[✶ UNICRON TRILOGY ASK ✶]#[✶ MLP FIM ASK ✶]#[✶ TFA ASK ✶]#[✶ TF BEAST WARS ASK ✶]#[✶ CROSSOVER ASK ✶]#[☠ listen to your god | you will serve my will | the night is forever]#[💝 in character || sush! they are watching us]#[❣ ooc || no pressure rest a bit]#[💞 crack ships]#[💗 canon ships || 💌 platonic friendship]#[ 📧 answered ask 📩]#[ 🎩 tag : meme ]#the dead god : unicron #team question : the autobots

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vibratingskull · 1 year ago

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Could I maybe get Thrawnxfem!brothel worker,something something alien biology and mating

It will be a 2 parter cause I can't segway my way to the smut organically, enjoy the romantic fluff of the first part.

“Hurry up! Get in ranks!” shouts the Matriarch.

You and all your brothel’s sisters run to place yourself in the Grand Salon, a large room richly decorated in a royal fashion, so different from the quarters reserved for the prostitutes. With gold and forest green tones, large lavish sofas and long wall hangings, this room clearly tries to mimic the atmosphere of the Imperial Palace without really succeeding. Not that you could know what the interior of the Imperial Palace would look like. A low ranking whore like you doesn’t really get time or permission for cultural leaves.

You rearrange your hair as you run in the corridors, flattening your short dress with your colleagues next to you, wondering who might have come at the brothel to cause such agitation. Usually when a client comes, they get a sample of the harlots, maximum ten prostitutes presented to them, but today, all 50 prostitutes are being hurried to the Salon.

Who might have come to cause such a commotion?

“Move away, you!” You’re being pushed against the wall.

Daniama and her gang walk past you with laughter, with heavy make up and golden jewelries, they are the creme de la creme of the Brothel, young, fit, exotic, beautiful… They brought a real fortune to the house and in two or three tricks they should be able to buy their freedom away from the prostitutes' neighborhood and pay their debts to the Matriarch. You envy them terribly. You are a lower class harlot, not being picked much, still in outrageous debts up to your neck. You doubt you will ever leave this house, at least until your youth wither away, then you will be thrown out in the streets of Coruscant, alone.

You bite your inner cheek.

“Hurry up!” Barks the Matriarch, “Don’t keep him waiting!”

You place yourself hurriedly in line, next to your friends of misfortune. Daniama and her gang are placed forwards, in a spotlight for the client to see them first. They will again be chosen tonight, leaving all your other sisters arms dangling without any cash infusion again.

“Silence, girls! Lower your heads, we have a VIP guest tonight, do justice to the house!”

Daniama giggles, freeing her mane and deepening her cleavage. The armada of prostitutes behind her is just here for decorations, here to embellish her and her friends even more, a prop to their success.

“Do you think he will buy the debt of one of us?” She asks her gang, they laugh excitedly in response, holding hands.

Your own friend nudges you with a comforting smile. You smile back at her in the same fashion. That’s right, once they are gone you will have more chances on your own. Do not despair!

A man enters the room and immediately silence takes place.

You raise your eyes discreetly to see him. It is a tall man, taller than anyone in this room, with deep blue skin and glowing red eyes. He wears a white military uniform but you can’t make sense of his plaque.

“Welcome, Grand Admiral.” The Matriarch salutes him with a sweet voice and a smile “It is an honor to see you.”

You lower your eyes immediately as he looks over the room. Never meet a client's eyes until they choose you…

“Well, I just hope to find what I came here for. You are not the first establishment I visited today.” He lets her know, hands clasped behind his back.

“They always say that, but they always come back to us after.” She assures him.

“We will see about that.”

“Let me show you the girls, Grand Admiral Thrawn. I am sure we have the perfect product for you!” She gestures to him to approach, taking support from her cane.”This is Daniama, she is the pearl of the establishment, she is very well versed in all the pleasure techniques and will satisfy you in every possible way.”

He takes a step further, observing her intently. You can only see her back but you imagine her smiling boldly at him, looking at him in his eyes despite the interdiction. She does a small reverence and he simply takes her wrist and pulls it to his nose.

Is he… sniffing her?

He frowns and releases her immediately.

“No, she is not what I am searching for.” he simply states.

The Matriarch winces, it is uncommon that Daniama gets rejected. She presents one of her friends to him instead and he repeats the operation.

Same results.

You don’t know what he’s searching for but la creme de la creme isn’t useful today. He won’t find anything else here.

He starts walking among the rest of the prostitutes, blatantly ignoring the rest of the gang. He stops here and there, breathing in the scent off the wrist of some girl while the Matriarch presents her to him, but none pleases him. The more he tries and fails, the more displeased his expression gets. He’s losing precious time here when he should be planning important military campaigns!

You lower back your head when he enters your rank, walking calmly among the commoners. His boots resonate in the silent Salon, intimidating everyone. Your eyes are fixed on the ground when his black boots enter your field of vision and stop in front of you.

You hold your breath.

“She comes from a lesser establishment. I am not sure she would be suitable for someone of your stature, Grand Admiral. She is still quite inexperienced and not up to the standards of the House yet.” the Matriarch warns him.

He takes your wrist delicately.

His skin is so warm…

He deeply breathes in your scent and you regret not putting on perfume today, after a long day of work your musk can be significant.

He freezes completely.

You purse your lips. You just hope he won’t make any comment.

He breathes in again like to be sure of what he just sniffed.

His hand grazes the back of your head and forces you to tilt your head and expose your neck gently. He leans forward, his warm breath blowing on the skin of your neck, deeply inhaling again. He then parts from you, his fingers sliding under your chin to force you to meet his gaze.

He’s handsome. With delicate and haughty features, an assured gaze and a massive stature. Despite your better judgment your eyes meet and you immediately get lost in them. They are wonderful, like jewels…

“This one.” He just says and leaves immediately, letting you dumbfounded and arms dangling.

Your friend hugs you with a laugh as you catch back your breath.

“Well hurry up, (y/n)! Don’t keep him waiting, go prepare yourself!” The Matriarch chides you curtly.

You run back to your garret, passing on the dress reserved to your clients. You quickly comb your hair again and brush your teeth.

“Maker, hurry up!” The Matriarch shouts again.

You exit your room and she seizes your arm to push you through the corridors of the house. She guides you towards the biggest suite of the establishment, and looks terribly nervous. Arriving in front of the door, she picks specks of dust of your dress, flattening the fabric and checking your hairstyle

“Listen, this is a Grand Admiral, you must please him and bring fortune to the House. This is an incredible opportunity, so be nice, be obedient and don’t forget to smile and thank him for whatever he does.”

She then knocks on the door and pushes you inside.He’s sitting on a comfortable armchair, a glass of wine in his hand, looking at you. You immediately kneel.

“Sir.” You lower your head in submission.

You hear him snarl as he sips his wine.

“Stand up and raise your head.”

You obey. Your eyes meet again and you feel inextricably called by them. They are so beautiful…

“Approach.” He says softly, extending his hand to you.

You walk up to him and take his hand, his thumb brushes the back of yours and he inhales your scent again with a satisfied grin. You let him do it, a bit curious.

“What are you doing, sir?” You ask, trying to understand.

“I scent your pheromones.” He just answers casually, like it is a mundane occurrence.

You frown, his nose is very human-like, can it really pick up pheromones? He must have different olfactory receivers than yours.

“I am sorry, I did not have time to put on perfume.” You explain.

“That is quite well. It would have twisted my reading.” He tenderly kisses your hand.

You shift your weight, a bit troubled. You are not used to “nice” clients, they rarely make any efforts towards the girls they purchase. They prefer an obedient, silent girl and don’t embarrass themself with courtesy.

“And what are you reading?” You ask lowly, like a dirty secret, remembering your job.

“Exactly what I was searching for. My Von'ot.” His thumb keeps brushing your hand so tenderly it embarrasses you.

You smile with your best doe eyes and sit on his laps, letting the cut of your dress reveal your thighs to his gaze. You kiss the back of his hand and place it on the warm flesh of your thighs, inviting him to caress and explore your skin like a good prostitute would but his hand remains unmoving.

“And what is your Vonotte?” You ask with your temptress voice.

“Von'ot.”

“Yes, Vonotte.”

“No, it is pronounced : Von'ot.”

You wince.

“That’s what I said: Vonot!”

He shakes his head with an amused expression.

“This is not quite right, you must pronounce : Von'ot.”

You purse your lips. He was supposed to focus on your sexy voice and disposition, not how to pronounce a word!

“Well, whatever it is pronounced, what is it?” You flatter him.

Always showing interest in what the client says, whatever he says, pretend it is the most fascinating thing you ever heard. You start unbuttoning his collar to gain access to his neck and start kissing it.

“In Basic you will call it a mate.” He sighs deeply.

You stop.

You part from him, frowning.

“Like a… friend?” You inquire suspiciously.

“No, dear one.” He grazes your cheek with his knuckles.

Those little physical displays of affection really start to stress you out. Usually you would already be in bed with his cock deep inside you and you would forget about each other the next day. But this…

Like he’s trying to sweeten you.

He’s about to demand something from you, something he was rejected for in the other Brothels, something so ignominious no other harlots would do it.

It’s always like that with non-human clients…

You look at him with heavy suspicion, holding your breath.

“Like a sex partner for life. A soul twin, a companion in life.” He explains.

Your frowns deepen. You are so suspicious now.

“I came here to find my other half.” He keeps caressing your cheek with some fondness in his eyes.

You are fully creeped out.

“What do you mean?”

“I propose you to buy your contract to your Matriarch and take you from this life of prostitution and uncertainty.”

All your nerves are on fire. Is this some kind of sick joke? Luring an escape to a desperate woman to mock her?

“You are not believing me.” He simply adds.

“You will understand it is quite hard to believe such a thing.” You just respond between your teeth.

Is it rich people's humor? A thing you’re too poor to understand? Coming all back there and having a laugh at people’s misery?

“I admit it, but I am genuine in my offer.”

You stand off his laps and take some steps in the suite, hugging yourself.

“Why would you do that in the first place?” You mumble

“Because I want my mate at my side at all times, to live with her, to enjoy her presence and revel in what she has to offer.” He patiently explains, slouched on the seat like a king.

“What would make you think a human prostitute could be a proper mate to your species? Humans don’t have mates.”

“Your pheromones indicate you are compatible with me. Perhaps it will not work out, but I am willing to try, the question is : are you?”

“That’s…” You bite your cheek “That is a lot to take in.”

“I understand it.”

“What if I say no?”

“I will leave you be and search for someone else compatible with me.” He takes a sip of his drink.

You bite your thumb. If you say no, someone else will be saved and you could say goodbye to your only chance to leave this life. The offer is tempting, but could you trust him? He’s a soldier after all, you give them little credits.

“I don’t even know you.” You counter “How could I trust you? Maybe you’re a psychopath in search of its next victim.”

“I admit you can give little to no credit to my story.” He raises from his seat without pressing himself “But you should find intel on my personhood on the holonet quite easily. It should paint you a broad portrait of who I am.” He slips right behind you and you feel his warm hands pressed on your arms, very gently, caressing your soft skin. “But you might be more interested in who I am in private…” He murmurs so softly in your ear, you feel his warm breath grazing your thin skin, making you shiver.

You spin on yourself towards him suddenly, taking him aback.

“Alright, and how would it go exactly?” You inquire.

You are terribly tempted, it is a unique chance, your ticket out of hell, but you should make sure you won’t end up in another one.

“You would live with me on my ship or my Corusantian apartment when on leave, you would cater to my needs. All your own needs will be taken care of, as your expenses. You will have your own room and privacy, manage your own money, you will be free to follow your own career and spend time with who you want. You will pretty much be a free woman.”

“Pretty much?”

“You will be tied to me for life.”

You bite down your nail again, mind speeding.

“And those needs I should cater to, what are they precisely?” You investigate.

“Primarily my sexual needs. But I also research a partner in life, a comforting and friendly presence-”

“Oh, you want a sex friend.” You understand suddenly.

He seems to wince a bit at this mention.

“If that is how you humans call them. Do those “sex friends” share a soul bond with their companions?”

“Maybe not.” You admit.

“Understand that I search for a partner for life, it is not a light decision.” He explains.

You think about it for a minute before asking.

“Let’s pretend I accept, we share a bond, yadda, yadda, yadda… What would happen if I fall in love with someone else?”

“Usually mates fall in love with each other.”

“Probably, but we humans don’t operate like that. So how would it go? Would I be free enough to pursue them? Will you chain me to you?”

“In theory, it could happen, indeed.” He reflects “I would not refrain you from sentimental fulfillment with another person, you should just make sure that they are okay with you having sex and sharing a deep bound with me.”

“And what if I invite them to the bedroom with us?” You half-jokingly ask.

“I would oppose that idea.” He shakes his head “I will not tolerate to share intimacy with another person than my mate.”

You purse your lips. Having a romantic life is forbidden in the prostitute district, and without being overly romantic yourself you always dreamed of finding your own love, your beloved, your sweetheart.

“So, in your package deal we ultimately fall for each other?”

“Am I that displeasing to your eyes?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No!” You temper. “No. It’s just that it severely limits the options.”

It’s true, he’s a very handsome man, you won’t be against falling in love with him theoretically, but you don’t know what the future holds.

He holds his chin, like he is pondering the circumstances.

“Hmmm. I suppose you are right. I always thought I would fall in love with my Von'ot, but if I choose a human, maybe we could make an exception. Even if I doubt it will ever happen, accepting the bond is quite a soul changing experience.”

You lick your teeth, lost in your thoughts.

What do you have to lose at that point? It would be crazy to accept, but it would be as crazy to not take that chance and slowly die in that district.

“Are there other things I should be aware of beforehand?”

“My species goes through heat and rut cycles, that is why we need compatible mating partners. Ultimately, those natural processes for the goal to produce an heir, therefore I would most probably ask you to bear my child, is that acceptable to you?”

You always wanted a baby.

Not now tho, you’re way too young for motherhood.

“The question should be : do you mind them being interspecie?” you demand “I think that would be the problem for you.”

“ I do not mind in the slightest.”

“Then I think I’m cool with it too. Just not now, I am not ready to be a mother.”

“I understand perfectly. I myself am not ready to start a family.” He nods his head. “My kind also has some kind of… exotic features compared to you humans. You should be aware of that.”

You shrug, you’ve crossed paths with so many aliens, nothing can surprise you no more.

“I should be able to manage.”

“Is that a yes, then?”

You inhale deeply.

“Yes. I accept.”

The die is cast.

“Wonderful. Let us start, then.”

He seizes your face and leans forward to kiss you. By reflex you back down.

Kissing is a no go for prostitute, the only thing you would not do with client, the only intimate act reserved to loved ones. You only kissed once with a young lover in your teen years, before you get enrolled in a brothel.

“But… What are you doing… Sir?”

He tilts his head.

“I want to kiss you.”

“Didn’t you want to buy my debt from my Matriarch?!” You ask, lost.

“I will, but there are more present matters to attend to right now.” He takes your hand and places it on his groin. It was hidden by the long white jacket but it is swollen and warm to the touch, since when is it hard like that?

“Did you think I would not take you to bed?” He asks, amused by your confusion.

“I lost track of that with the discussion.”

He gently kisses your temple.

“I want to seal the deal as soon as possible. It has been years since I started searching for you. So many places visited, but you were not there.” He peppers kisses and pecks all over your face, your cheeks, your forehead, your nose. “You really made yourself desired.”

“I am sorry?”

“It is quite good. You are here, finally. And I cannot wait to tie myself to you, feeling whole for the first time in my life.”

He leans forward again and you evade him by instinct.

“Is something wrong?” He asks, puzzled

“No…. I mean, it’s just… Kissing is the only intimate act we reserve for our true lover.” You explain.

He considers you in silence for a minute.

“You are not a prostitute anymore. You are a free woman, free to love whoever you want, and kiss whoever you want.” He says, like it resolves years of conditioning.

“I guess, it’s just… I have to get used to it.”

“Let me put it this way : Do you give me the permission to kiss you?”

You look into his eyes, they are so clear and assertive… They’re beautiful fireballs illuminating the dim room. He’s so gorgeous, so handsome, so soft and gentle… But you want to be sure, is he gonna keep true to his words if he doesn’t get what he wants? Is he gonna respect your consent?

“I would rather we wait.” You admit.

He takes back your hand and kisses the back.

“Then we will wait, dear one.”

“What will happen if you get in a rut and I’m still not ready?” You investigate.

“I will take care of everything myself like I used to all these years.”

“Thank you…” You let out in a breath.

“Thank you.” He takes back his coat and put it on. “Follow me, we are going to see your employer.”

He doesn’t take you to bed?

“We are not gonna do it?” You ask perplexed.

He shakes his head slightly.

“No. If you are not ready to kiss me, you are not ready to have me in bed.”

He extends his hand to you with a soft smile, waiting for you. You consider his blue palm, it looks so soft and inviting…

You take it and he squeezes your hand.

“Let us go from this place.” He says, eyes already focused on the future.

You look at them enthralled.

And realize you can’t wait for the day he can kiss you.

@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching

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rubywolffxxx · 2 months ago

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Hola! Qué tal? Jsjs Con lo del pedido pues si puedes y quieres, me gustaría algo con Hobie

La idea está algo rara(? No sé xd pero pensaba en algo como que rayita y Hobie pueden verse entre sí aunque son de distintas dimensiones. Como si hubiera un fallo en sus respectivas dimensiones que hace que ambos vean al otro como un "fantasma". Y no sé, que interactuen y que se les haga bonito pero frustrante porque nunca pueden "tocarse" xd.

Dejo una fotito que me hizo pensar en eso:

Medio raro pero no sé jsjsjs me gustaría algo así pensado en que ya casi es Halloween

...

Si la idea está muy rancia, estaría divertido un especial de halloween con cortitos de cómo es ver una película de terror con los spideys.

De antemano te agradezco ♡ Amo todo lo que escribes

La idea me hace acordar a un cómic que le��a hace mil años en Webtoon. Pero no recuerdo el nombre.

Me gusta, vamos a ver qué sale.

Gracias por el pedido ✨.

(y te quedó hermoso el dibujito 💕)

Interdimensional (Hobie Brown x lectora)

Masterlist de mi autoría

Sinopsis: Miguel llevaba semanas investigando variaciones en las líneas multiversales. A pesar de que no empeoraban, tampoco desaparecían. Se mantenían. Y fue una se de esas variaciones extrañas que formó un vértice, uno en donde colapsaban dos puntos paralelos... Donde colapsaban dos departamentos del centro de la ciudad.

Era viernes por la tarde, una lluvia pesada caía sobre la ciudad y empapaba a los pobres transeúntes que aún vagaban por las calles. ____ era una de ellas.

La joven entró a resbalones al recibidor de su edificio, dejando un rastro de agua hasta el elevador. Sabía que el conserje la odiaría, pero no tanto como ella misma por haber olvidado el paraguas en la mañana.

El frío le calaba los huesos, solo quería ducharse, encender la calefacción, comer algo... Y dormir. Dormir 3 días seguidos de ser posible.

Abrió la puerta de su departamento, lanzando su empapado abrigo a un rincón y la mochila a los pies del sofá. En todo el camino hacia el baño fue desperdigando sus pertenencias por cada rincón, sin tiempo ni ganas de revisar su estado.

Se metió en la ducha, suspirando con pesadez al sentir el agua caliente impactar en su cuerpo.

No supo cuánto estuvo ahí parada, pero si supo que se tomó su tiempo, pues en cierto momento el agua caliente comenzó a agotarse. Fue momento de salir. Rodeó su cuerpo con una toalla, y antes de salir del baño, un extraño escalofrío la recorrió desde los pies a la cabeza. Tal vez fue cosa del cansancio, pero le pareció ver que las paredes parpardeaban. Fallaban, como sus trabajos de la oficina cuando configuraba mal algún código base. No le dio importancia.

Salió hacia la sala, esta vez deteniéndose a mirar el desastre de agua en el suelo. Lo limpiaría en un rato. Tal vez.

Finalmente entró a su cuarto, donde rápidamente buscó algo de ropa. Mientras deslizaba la camiseta por su cabeza, le pareció ver algo. Algo alto cruzar por la sala. Como si una presencia acabara de brotar del baño y cruzó la sala camino a la cocina. Le dio un escalofrío de solo pensar que había alguien en su casa. Ya no era una sensación como las paredes del baño. No. Esta vez estaba segura de haber visto eso.

Se terminó de acomodar la camiseta, y solo con la ropa interior inferior salió a la sala armada con el bendito y para nada empapado paraguas. No había nadie.

Tal vez estoy cansada. Veo cosas que no están ahi...

Intentó calmarse, pero lejos estaba de eso.

Revisó cada bendito lugar, pero no encontró a nadie. Y un resbalón en la sala la hizo recordar que debía secar el suelo. Y que seguía en ropa interior.

Se terminó de vestir, y tras poner la ropa empapada en la lavadora, secó el suelo.

—Creo que ya esta... Ahora, un sándwich.—la mujer acomodó el perchero, colgando el paraguas de una de sus ramas. Estaba por dirigirse a la cocina para preparar algo de comer, cuando le pareció escuchar algo.

~Ahí, debajo de la mesita.~

No pudo evitar dar un gritito antes de brincar y ver hacia atrás, pues podía jurar que escuchó aquella voz sobre su hombro. Pero no había nadie.

____ vivía en un departamento, no en una mansión. Si de verdad había alguien y no estaba en la sala, el baño o su cuarto, la cocina sería la última opción. Y tampoco había nadie ahí.

¿de verdad se estaba volviendo loca?

—... ¿Hola?—soltó algo nerviosa—. ¿Qué... qué mesita?—miró al techo. Una araña tal vez le contestaría, pensó.

~¿Me escuchas? Eso es nuevo.~

A la mujer la ponía de los nervios aquello. No solo el hecho de que no podía adivinar de dónde venía la voz, sino que realmente alguien le había contestado.

~La mesita fea del rincón, abajo quedaron tus gafas.~

Algo insegura, ____ se inclinó frente a la mesita de la entrada, aquella donde acumulaba cosas apenas llegaba a la casa. Debajo estaban sus gafas, aún con gotitas empapando los cristales.

—Se habrán caido del abrigo...—las secó con el borde de su camiseta. Fue entonces que la chica lo vio. Una sombra deslizarse por la pared de la sala, pero no había nada ni nadie que realmente la pudiera proyectar. Solo estaba ella—. ¿Eres... una especie de fantasma? hace años que vivo aquí y nunca vi nada raro.—

~¿qué tan raro te parecería escuchar que existen muchas dimensiones, que casualmente las nuestras se han conectado por un vértice interdimensional y que como vivimos en el mismo departamento de diferentes dimensiones, coexisistimos en el mismo lugar sin poder vernos?~

La chica se colocó las gafas y caminó con algo de cautela al sofá. Por alguna extraña razón la situación ya no le parecía tan aterradora. La voz del chico no le transmitía miedo o duda, era bastante relajante... O al menos lo suficiente para no asustarse por escuchar tremenda locura.

—Si no puedes verme ¿cómo sabías de las gafas?—

~Eso es nuevo. Estaba en el sofá cuando te vi llegar y mojar mi suelo.~

—Yo no mojé tu suelo, es MI suelo.—

~Pues resulta que ahora es NUESTRO suelo.~la sombra volvió a surgir en la pared, y esta vez parecía sentarse en el sofá de enfrente~. Somos roomies interdimensionales.~

—No. No quiero... ¿qué diablos hacemos para que ya no suceda más? No me gusta tener a alguien aquí...—la chica abrió los ojos con sorpresa—. ¿¡me viste en ropa interior!?—

~... Poquito y nada.~el tono divertido de su voz hizo que la chica sintiera sus mejillas arder.

—No me parece justo...—

~¿Ah? ¿también quieres verme en calzones o qué? Me temo que lo míos no son tan coloridos como los tuyos.~

—Cállate y arregla esto.—

~No puedo, corazón. Si podría ya lo habría hecho.~la chica se quejó en voz alta~. Pero no te preocupes, estamos trabajando en eso.~

Fue así que el chico le contó a su peculiar roomie cómo su jefe estaba tratando de solucionar el asunto de los vértices dimensionales.

Al parecer su misterioso compañero era parte de una sociedad secreta que salvaguardaba la seguridad interdimensional. A esas alturas, la chicas ya no sabía qué era descabellado y qué no. Así que solo escuchó atentamente.

—Cuando hablas de dimensiones... ¿es como en End Game?... ¿la línea sagrada de tiempo y esas cosas?—____ lo meditó un segundo—. ¿cuál sería la sagrada? ¿la tuya o la mía?—miró confundida al sofá, pues en su imaginación, el chico estaba ahí sentado.

~No tengo idea de qué es eso.~

—¿No te gustan las películas de superhéroes? ¿Capitán América... iron Man?—la chica enarcó una ceja—. Incluso mi abuela los conoce.—

~Capitán América, Iron Man... ¿Spiderman?~____ sonrió enseguida, sin saber que el chico la estaba mirando. A Hobie le pareció adorable la forma en que su rostro se iluminó al escuchar su nombre clave~. En esta dimensión eso no es cosa de películas, ellos existen... de hecho, yo soy Spiderman.~

La chica reprimió la risa, y un sonido nasal extraño se ahogó en su boca.

—Lo siento.—carraspeó apenada—... Pero no digas tonterías.—

~No lo son.~

—Spiderman es mi héroe favorito... ¿Eres Peter Parker entonces?—sonrió apenas.

~De esos hay miles, yo soy Hobie Brown.~

—... ¿Quién?—

~Que graciosa...~____ le sonrió con burla al aire, levantándose del sof�� y yendo a la cocina por algo de comer~. Somos muchas arañas en el multiverso que no somos Parker. Mis amigos Gwen y Pavs también son Spideys...~

—En mi dimensión, tu existencia y la de tus amigos de seguro serían para cameos de cinco minutos en una película.—soltó elevando la voz para que Hobie la escuchara desde la cocina—. ¿Qué dimensión es la tuya? ¿Cuál la mía?—

Hobie se recostó en el sofá, mirando vagamente la mancha de humedad en el techo. Se le hizo curioso que en su dimensión la mancha era incluso más grande.

~Aún no estamos seguros de qué dimensión es la tuya, amiga roomie. Pero la mía es la 138.~

—En las pelis, la línea de los Vengadores principales es la 19999. El Peter de ahí va a la uni, pero también conoce a otro Peter que de hecho salió antes y luego al original que...—

Hobie aún mantenía la mirada en el techo, cuando un sonido extraño lo hizo voltear hacia la entrada de la cocina. No veía a la chica.

~¿Chica roomie?~

—... ¿Cómo te entra ese cabello en la máscara?—

Tal vez el chico no la podía ver, pero su sentido arácnido le indicaba que estaba ahí. Y al parecer sí podía verlo.

~Ok... Eso si es nuevo.~

Miguel revisaba unos monitores concentrado, analizando la información que Hobie acababa de traerle.

Podían verse. Hobie a ella, ella a él. Pero no al mismo tiempo.

—Cuando el sol entra por la ventana, yo la veo a ella... Y cuando el último rayo de sol se desvanece, ella me ve a mi.—Hobie le mostró a Miguel unas grabaciones. La figura de la mujer se desvanecía en una cortina de destellos al anochecer. Y la de Hobie surgía como por arte de magia en su lugar.

—Ya veo... Es muy interesante... Pero aún no lo comprendo del todo. Tendré que seguir investigándolo.—Miguel lo miró serio—. Tú no te relaciones tanto con ella. Cuanto menos la involucres en esto, mejor.—

—Claro, jefe...—

—¡Entonces le lancé el café viejo a la camisa!—____ alzó su mano, simulando la situación—. Y cuando digo ciejo, es viejo.—

~¿Cuan viejo?~

—Tenía una capa de hongos por encima. Una semana de vida, calculo.—

~Que asco.~

Hobie miraba divertido como la mujer planchaba y apilaba su ropa en una enorme pila sobre la mesa.

Claro está que se pasó por el trasero el pedido de Miguel, y en su lugar se acercó tanto a ____ que la palabra roomies ya les calzaba a la perfección.

La joven programadora iba a trabajar temprano en la mañana, y volvía a la tarde. Justo una hora antes de hacer el "cambio de vistas". Habían acordado solo interactuar esas dos horas, para no invadir tanto el espacio del otro. De todas formas, Hobie casi nunca estaba en casa. Pero se tomaba el trabajo de siempre acomodar sus asuntos para estar ese par de horas en el salón, para charlar con ella.

—¿Sabes? He estado pensando en algo.—____ dobló aquella camisa, dejándola sobre la pila—. De seguro es algo parejo lo de las dimensiones... Mitad y mitad... Si el día tiene 24 horas, son 12 para cada uno.—

~Guau, es una deducción brillante.—

—Cállate, no terminé... Tal parece que la lluvia no afecta la magia, porque el cielo nublado no me impide verte... Asi que si empieza a las 7 de la tarde, hasta las 7 de la mañana podría seguir viéndote... En teoria.—

~Aja... ¿Y?~

—Y dudo que el pase sea inmediato, yo te veo materializarte en unos segundos... ¿Crees que en esos escasos segundos yo pueda tocarte?—

Ese último comentario hizo que Hobie se sentara derecho. Miró emocionado a la mujer, quien lejos de ver la emoción ajena, seguía planchando su ropa.

~¿Qué hora es?~____ miró el reloj en la pared.

—6:55, Hobbs... ¿Por qué?—

~... Ven, intentemos algo.~Hobie se sentó frente a ella, acercando su mano a la ajena. La atravesaba enseguida~. No es tangible... No aún.~

—Bueno... Pero no la encimes tanto. Mira si tus partículas se materializan sobre las mías y nuestros dedos quedan unidos como esos gemelos parasitos.—Hobie rió bajito.

~No seas rara...~

Cuando el último rayo de sol se desvaneció por la ventana, ____ percibió la bonita cortina de destellos frente a ella. Y mientras la cara sonriente de Hobie se mostraba frente a ella, lo sintió. Los cálidos dedos de Hobie rozaban los suyos, y Hobie no se demoró en entrelazarlos.

Solo fueron unos pocos segundos, pero fueron suficientes para que sus mejillas se encendieran. Hobie llegó a verla antes de perderla de vista. Y lo había adorado.

Desde aquel día, era casi un ritual que el par se sentara en el sofá a charlar y disfrutar de ese mínimo contacto. Estrechar sus manos por esos breves segundos era una sensación reconfortante.

A medida que un fuerte lazo nacía entre ambos, la unión de sus dimensiones se desvanecía. Miguel y Lyla comenzaban a solucionar el asunto de los vórtices. Y a Hobie no le gustaba nada.

—En 24 horas se cerrará por completo.—

—... ¿qué?—Hobie miraba más que decepcionado a la IA frente a él.

—Lo que escuchaste, Hobie. Ya pudimos solucionar esto. Y en hora buena, porque las estructuras dimensionales comenzaban a fallar más y más.—

—¿No volveré a verla?—

—Me temo que no. Su dimensión no tiene spideys. O bueno, no reales. Por lo que el acceso como tal a su dimensión no es posible.—

—Sé lo que piensas. Ni se te ocurra.—Miguel apareció en el laboratorio, mirando de forma severa a Hobie—. Logramos solucionar la brecha, no vuelvas a causarla. Es peligroso para tu mundo y el suyo.—

Hobie se sintió impaciente.

Claro estaba que las órdenes le importaban poco y nada. Pero Miguel tenía razón. No sabían cómo ir a su dimensión, era peligroso.

Y solo le quedaba una noche para poder convivir con ella...

Cuando ____ entró a su sala esa tarde, Hobie ya estaba en el sofá, esperándola. La vio colgar su chaqueta del perchero, y lanzar la mochila sin cuidado como solía hacer cada día.

—¿Roomie?—sonrió apenas al aire.

~Aqui, roomie ¿Qué tal tu día?~

Hobie la escuchó con la atención y cariño de siempre, intentando guardar su voz en su memoria. Pues no estaba seguro de cuando volvería a verla o escucharla.

—¿Sucede algo? Estás muy callado... y tú nunca te callas.—____ comía un poco de yogurt en el sofá.

~Ellos van a cerrarlo. Al vórtice... Y me temo que no sé si volveré a verte.~

La sonrisa de la chica de desvaneció con aquello, y con su nuevo semblante asustado, se sentó mejor en el sofá. Mirando hacia donde Hobie debía estar.

—¿Como que no... No volveré a verte?—se removió nerviosa—. Pero al menos escucharte si me-

~Tampoco. Nada. Se cerrará la brecha por completo.~

—Hobie, yo... No quiero que eso pase.—Se sinceró sin más—. Sé que me vivo quejado de que eres un ocupa pero... Voy a extrañarte.—el chico sonrió con cierto pesar, acercando su rostro al ajeno al percibir que se venía el cambio.

~Podrías buscar al Hobie de tu dimensión. No debe vivir lejos del departamento.~soltó rozando sus labios, ansiando poder sentirla rápido.

—No quiero a otro Hobie.—

~¿Me quieres a mi entonces?~

La figura de la chica comenzó a deslumbrar. Se acercaba el blip. Las manos de Hobie se posaron a ambos lados de la cabeza ajena, y en cuanto sus dedos rozaron las rojizas mejillas de la mujer, sus labios atraparon los ajenos con desesperación. Debía aprovechar cada segundo.

Aunque efímero, ese beso fue determinante para Hobie. Fue el primero, pero no sería el último, para nada.

Haría hasta lo imposible para que se repitiera.

#español #atsv hobie #hobie brown #hobie spiderverse #hobie x reader #spiderman

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