#i realize this is in part a resistant reading (viewing?) of this scene

[dailyayao]

[kevin-the-bruyne]

Ray's mother, music and the barriers to his heart that Sand must overcome

TW: discussion of suicide This is building upon the shorter meta I wrote here about the Micro song that plays during Ray's suicide scene. The parallels between Ray's arc in falling for Sand and Mew are so overt that I was completely overlooking the person that Sand is really up against in Ray's wounded heart and who, I believe Mew is ultimately a proxy for - his dead mother. I go into a little bit about how Sand's affection for Ray can sometimes read as familial here and I think it's quite readily noticeable how Ray acts very childlike around Sand with his puppy dog eyes and constant wheedling. One thing I do want to note is that Ray doesn't particularly come off as childlike in any of his other interactions either with his friends or in his conversation with P'Yo except for perhaps that first night when he got drunk and told his friends how much he loved them and during the suicide scene when he cries wrapped up in Mew's arms, distraught by how his mother never loved him. I think Ray is the epitome of someone with a deeply wounded inner child and the only way he can ask for love is as a child, somewhat helplessly and appealing to people's caretaker/protective nature. The parent child relationship between Sand and Ray comes up a few times through the episodes. The earliest explicit acknowledgement as far as I can tell is here at the end of episode 2:

There's another explicit nod as to how their dynamic is set up within Sand performing acts of service for Ray in Ep 3:

Sand says he has been Ray's driver, drinking buddy, shrink and chef. Three of those things - driving him around, cooking for him and providing him emotional support are not just familial activities but activities you would normally do for a young child. Sand pointedly leaves out that they've had sex from this list of services. And yes, that's because Sand doesn't view sex as a service and if it was just this then it would be hard to make the point that I'm trying to make which is that Sand needs to fulfill that parental attachment need that Ray craves; give him that type of no strings, unselfish kind of love before he will ever be able to gain Ray's trust enough to be able to build a romantic relationship with him. So how is the show making this point? That Sand is replacing not just Mew but Ray's dead mother in his heart? Well, let's start with the two things that Ray's mother has left him with: 1) music and 2) her alcoholism. Ray's friends were all very surprised when Ray volunteers to arrange the music for the party. While that was more about Ray's lack of interest in taking responsibility (His now in restrospect gut wrenching 'I'm only good for spending money' line from Ep1 like ouch) but it also indicates that none of them really know or connect with Ray over his music. How can they?

Music is such a deeply personal part of him, that's where he keeps the love he holds for his mother; the love that is entirely grief - painful in its vastness, beautiful in its consistency. And the first thing Sand tells him to do is be grateful for it - her good taste in music. The second thing? Is to show him how to enjoy it:

The fact that he's taking his hand and Ray is half resisting it, the silliness of the gesture more than the touch itself but he's undeniably enjoying himself - It reads to me like the awkward, stilted movements of a childperson who doesn't know how to move their limbs when they're first being taught how to do something. And when you realize that the song that Ray plays for Sand in ep2 is the same one that is playing when he's taken the pills - the positive associations that Sand is making with Micro in Ray's life suddenly becomes monumental. This happens twice more in the show. Once, in the car when Sand ditches his date to drive them to Ray's house where they engage in a delightful flirtation around it, Ray singing badly while Sand eats it up complains about it

And again, at the night of the party when Ray tells Sand to play Micro for him and Sand like the simp that he is serenades him with it:

But their connection over music doesn't stop at teaching Ray to cherish and honor his past - and unknowingly the pains that are attached to it. No, Sand goes further to expand it, help Ray find a space for himself in music, carve a corner of it that isn't only pain, isn't only that moment of seeing his mother laid flat on that floor with a whiskey glass inches from her fingers.

When music is such an integral part of Ray's personality how else does one interpret this scene other than Sand telling Ray to move on, when Sand plays Selina and Sirinya for him because finding new music he likes is Sand's happiness how else do I interpret it as anything other than Sand teaching Ray how to be happy? What am I supposed to do but pull out my own hair when they're connecting over music, looking at each other like this:

And Sand will do it AGAIN - as the ep5 preview suggests - take Ray's hand and teach him how to enjoy contemporary music while Ray makes his awkward, adorable face where he's having fun in spite of himself. And the sheer amount of joy that Sand gets in seeing Ray like this is just - they're so insufferable:

But perhaps the most surprising (and delightful!) of all is this:

Ray taking his headphone off, interrupting this magical moment of being with Sand and the music, telling him he wants to be close to nature and drink beer - for the very first time Ray desires alcohol not as a means to destroy himself but as a vehicle of peace and of connection and I haven't been well since seeing it and understanding what it means. In many ways, Ray's mother is such a tragic character. I know nothing of this woman other than the three seconds I have seen of her dead and the frightful way she has driven her son to follow in her footsteps, to feel so unloved and unwanted. And yet she named him Ray Pakorn (pakorn meaning sun) - a ray of sunshine. Perhaps even, her ray of sunshine.

How can I truly believe that she never loved him?

I know Ray tells Mew that she never held him but he loves her so dearly, wants to be with her so desperately, she permeates every moment of his life so thoroughly that the loneliness she left behind isn't a gaping emptiness but the festering carcass of a love so profound and full to bursting that Ray keeps trying to give it away, keeps trying to love his friends, keeps trying to save them and aches in the way that he finds no recipient for it.

People wonder what Sand sees in Ray, why he would fall for him. But Ray is a creature made entirely of love, soft still in the way he lets it rule his life, innocent in the way that he asks for it, precious in the way that he gives it away - How can Sand be anything but desperately in love with him?

[green-like-pine-trees]

Oscar’s eyes glowing green is weird. The sound effect is clearly the same from when they swap places, but his eyes typically glow gold/yellow. Question is: What’s happening?

And I think I might have an answer… and it requires reworking everything I thought I knew about the merge. 

The TLDR of my theory is: I think Ozpin uses magic to delegate control of the body. So, Oscar’s never been able to fully control the swapping process bc he couldn’t use their magic– he has always needed Ozpin’s help to do so. The magic in the epilogue might be trying to force them to swap, to force Oscar to take control of it. 

If you want to know how I got to that, keep reading. I’m excited to hear other people’s thoughts on this. ^_^

So, before now, I’ve assumed that their eyes glow because of the god of light. Even the white haired guy’s eyes glow when Ozma takes control for the first time. In the Lost Fable, during the divorce, Salem reforms with the same golden glow. 

I have also assumed that the eye glow indicated that Oscar and Oz were swapping places. I believe this notion might be incorrect.

My main evidence for this is V7's finale. Oscar is falling, knocked out by Ironwood. Then, Ozpin's voice wakes Oscar up, his eyes glowing golden as he takes control.

However, he isn't swapping control. Ozpin wasn't in control: neither of them seemed to be. Therefore, the magic must be more complicated than a simple swap.

Another moment that gives me pause is in V6C2. After the train derails, everyone's questioning Ozpin about the lamp. Oscar is able to push through, resisting Ozpin's control enough to provide Jinn's name.

As we can see, there’s no golden-eye effect. Although, we do hear something: the swapping sound effect. 

Usually there’s 2 parts to the swapping sound effect: a hissing sound and a lower echo-y undercurrent. It’s usually heard quickly, not lingering as the swap finishes and his eyes stop glowing. However, in this scene, the sound is drawn out as Oscar fights back– even as violins(?) start playing to amp up the tension. The moment all the music stops and the tension is released, we can assume Ozpin has regained full faculties. 

Based on these scenes, I concluded that the glowing eyes might indicate either one of them taking control of the body. In this scene, Ozpin is never not in control of the body. Oscar is just able to resist, holding the body frozen in Ozpin’s expression. But then I realized something. 

Outside of this scene, Oscar has never taken control over the body. 

Like, I cannot think of another time where Oscar forcefully took over Ozpin or clearly brought Ozpin to control. He’s been asked permission, sure. But, in control??? 

In these scenarios, Oscar’s role has always been framed as passive, with Ozpin as active. Ozpin can take over Oscar no problem, with or without permission. Oz even asking is a courtesy, if anything. Ozpin can also just swap out and force Oscar to be in control (see V6 when Ozpin hides from everyone as an example).

With this in mind, maybe the eye glow isn't for whomever is in control. It’s to indicate Ozpin’s state of control over the body. Ozpin swaps in– eye glow. Ozpin swaps out– eye glow. V6C2 is the only time Oscar comes close to forcibly taking control. At that point, it might even be impossible for Oscar to do so. Oscar can try to initiate, but Ozpin has to actually do it. 

This like. Drastically changed my view of how the Ozmosis works. It also might explain why his eyes are glowing green and what’s happening in the epilogue. So, I started thinking about what is likely the source of the green: his magic. 

We know for a FACT, Oscar didn’t gain control over Ozpin’s magic until V7. Given we know the god of light’s magic is what dictates Ozpin’s reincarnation, it would not be a leap to suggest that Ozpin is using that magic when he swaps. Ergo, if Oscar cannot use magic, he cannot fully control the swap. 

Under this scenario, my first example makes more sense. Either Ozpin was waking up Oscar (forcing him into control) OR Oscar was able to take control because he tapped into Ozpin’s magic for the first time. 

When I watched the epilogue, it reminded me of the V6 scene. The prolonged sound effect, the clear struggle. He sounds like he's in pain. :(

He says he's resisting the merge, but the merge... it's not exactly tangible?? The merge is a process not a thing. For instance, if I put a dam on a river it stops the water from flowing. The merge is the flow here. What's the water?

I have two guesses as to what these episodes are:

Less likely, but it could be his magic activating uncontrollably. Him resisting Ozpin's influence might make it harder to control. He can't use the magic, bc of course, it makes them merge faster. Doesn't necessarily explain the sound effect, but their first on screen swap was a green color.

The merge is trying to force them to co-pilot, and/or force Ozpin into control of the body. Oscar collapses both times. We could assume it's from the pain, but it could also be because he momentarily loses control of his body.

I'm leaning towards the second. There's only so much we can take from an animatic, with things getting changed in the final product.

Anyways, those are my main thoughts right now. I'd LOVE to hear other people's thoughts or opinions!

[chickenkupo]

Just My Luck - Chapter 2

Summary: As Wriothesley and Neuvillette continue their sensual activities, more starts to develop about his current situation and steps moving forward. What's this about the claim law? Why is he having to meet with other people? One final return to his land? A single wish?

Wait, he didn't ask for this choker!

Recommendations: Kinda obvious, but I highly suggest reading the first work under this, Just My Luck, for more background and spicy scenes.

Warnings: General audience, some hints of spicier scenes, but this is building up to more *wink, wink, nudge, nudge*. Neuv is possessive as always, and it gets even worse here, so if you're not into that, this isn't for you. Religious tones, cause they're gods and all that. Consent? Pfft, you're happy here, don't worry about it. This has not been beta-read, this is shit from my head that I was like damn, I kinda wanna write that and yall seemed to like the last one so here's the next part. As promised, this will be a Tumblr exclusive for a few days, until I get back from my convention. It will then be posted on AO3, probably late Sunday, so if you follow me on there, if you want you can leave a kudos, comment, random recipe, idgaf, just enjoy it.

Also, this is hilariously long again, and I'm writing this THE NIGHT BEFORE I FREAKING LEAVE FOR MY CONVENTION WHEN I SHOULD BE CON CRUNCHING MORE GRRRRRR MY BRAAAAIN

Enjoy :D

Time was lost upon Wriothesley as him and the hydro god Neuvillette shared many more intimate moments, wrapped up in each other and exploring every inch of their bodies. Hours, days, or even weeks could have passed for all he knew. The moment that he would pass out from pure bliss, he would awaken only to be fucked again by the god, repeatedly, either quick repeated sessions, or long and sensual ones. Regardless, he would be completely lost to his senses either way. The two would only take breaks to either make sure that Wriothesley was well nourished or needed to be freshened up. At first, Wriothesley still held a small sense of apprehension to the situation at hand, but once he started to repeatedly lose himself to pleasure, his body and soul almost seemed to ache and crave more from his newfound god and owner. What was once slight resistance turned into complete acceptance, and Neuvillette was more than willing to indulge.

This morning, however, was much different from the rest. Instead of being woken up by coaxing hands, or a long, draconic-like tongue caressing his body all over, Wriothesley instead awoke, wrapped up in the smooth, silk sheets of their bed, completely alone and without that damned draconic tongue running up and down his body, or his sharp claws tracing his muscles and leaving behind a light red, possessive trail. Instead, his body was well rested, no marks marring his body that he could see, and he knew for a fact that before half of this divine room had been put in a state of disarray with their brutal love making, but upon viewing the room once his eyes focused from his previous state of sleep, he saw that the room was utterly spotless and was in the same condition he found it in, as if nothing had ever happened.

Confused, Wriothesley raised himself to sit up, slowly, wincing as he took his time moving his limbs and settling himself at the edge of the bed. In an odd sense, Wriothesley took comfort in the soreness that he felt all over, it was a sure symbol that he didn’t dream up any of their interactions, blushing as he started to slowly remember certain memories of their coupling, of the moans, growls, begging…

Yeah, he needed to stop there before he had another problem to take care of. Blushing deeper, he realized that he was completely nude and scrambled to grab the soft sheets of the bed and draped it over himself to hide his body. Though at this rate the hydro dragon surely knew his body in detail, probably better than he himself knew it, he didn’t want to run the chances of someone entering and seeing himself in such a state. After taking a moment to mentally prepare himself, he stood up with the sheets draped over and around his body, his muscles protesting lightly at his movements. Since there was still no other presence with him, he decided to review his surroundings, he supposed that it wasn’t every day that a human such as himself would be claimed by a god and brought to their heavenly home, so ought as well to see what this god collected. If the stories he heard as a child were true about dragons, he was sure to see some treasures the likes of which the eyes of man may have never seen before.

As he started to explore bookshelf after bookshelf, he found all sorts of trinkets ranging from golden cased scrolls, to tablets with odd writings of a language long forgotten, to even fragments of broken weapons that seemed as ancient as time itself. Wriothesley was tempted to touch these artifacts, but somehow, he could sense a pulsating energy from all of them, and he wasn’t really in the mood to test what kind of reaction they would have with him if he made any sort of contact. Continuing onward, he observed rows of books in countless different languages, paintings that adorned the walls that depicted scenes, he assumed, were of different events in history, all intricately detailed and almost seemed to weave into each other, as if it were a giant storybook come to life. His eyes widened as he walked up to the last piece of art, gripping the sheets that were hugging his body tightly to his person, heart racing as he tried to process what he was seeing.

The portrait that stood before him was a realistic painting of Neuvillette, perfectly depicted in the same robes Wriothesley saw when he was first ushered to this place, standing in front of a watery throne within a court with a masked audience around him. Neuvillette’s arm extended with his clawed hand grasping a long, beautiful, jeweled chain, embedded with gorgeous glimmering gemstones of black, grey and white, that connected to a choker on the individual that was in front of him. That figure that stood before him was wearing the choker, had very similar black and grey hair, scarred skin and wore robes which matched the colors of the choker, and just as magnificent as the robes that Neuvillette wore. It was undeniable that the person in the portrait was himself, and that struck fear into his very being. His mind couldn’t comprehend what the picture meant, and he didn’t want to stay and find out. All the euphoria that he experienced when having endless sex with Neuvillette before seemed to fade from his mind as panic started to arise. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to do, he had no idea the layout of where he was at now, no telling how many gods were likely just around the corner to capture him and bring him back to the hydro dragon god.

Right as Wriothesley was about to turn around and debate thinking of escape plans, he felt familiar arms wrap around his torso from behind, pressing him against a very familiar, slim but chiseled chest, lips pressed against his neck, delivering light kisses. Wriothesley sighed as he relaxed into the grip, cuddling his head closer to the one assaulting his neck, now with nipping love bites. Previous thoughts eluded him as his body started to readily accept the familiar touches of his god, knowing its home and proper place before his mind did.

“Mm...” the dragon rumbled; lips felt against Wriothesley’s neck in a smirk. The dragon was pleased, Wriothesley’s body already being trained so well to respond to him and know who owned him. The claimed man let out a small moan, a call that was all too familiar with Neuvillette. His claimed wanted more, and only from him. Normally, he would be swift to take the two of them to bed and continue to ravage his body. However, more important matters were at hand. Though, the dragon couldn’t resist, his clawed hands pulling at the fabric that was wrapped around his claimed, lowering it so that more of his toned chest and abs were exposed, of which his hands continued to explore and grope, possessively.

As Neuvillette continued to overstimulate Wriothesley by giving his neck and torso attention, there was a sudden sound of a clasp being locked, and Wriothesley felt an odd sensation around his neck that felt much too still to be the one he was familiar with, as the dragon’s tongue would be massaging it by now and licking up and down, leaving wet, possessive trails behind. No, this, this felt like a collar…a…

“Choker…?” Wriothesley managed to grunt out, trying to break the haze that was in his mind like a fortified fortress.

The arms that were wrapped around him let him loose, a hand still placed on his back for support as the powerful hold that was placed on Wriothesley to keep him distracted was suddenly lifted. The man staggered forward a bit, regaining his senses and control, as his hands immediately reached up to his neck to feel the chained choker that was securely placed, and not moving an inch, no matter how hard he tried to remove it. The force he put on it didn’t even affect the light pressure it gave as a constant reminder that it was there. No, the choker refused to harm him in any way, but it also refused to release him.

Wriothesley looked around the room and noticed a long mirror that was placed on one of the walls, of course elegantly decorated, almost overly so. He quickly ran over and took note of his appearance, hands still tightly grasped around that which was currently binding his neck. As it was in the painting, so it was in person. The same exact collar was dressing the skin of his neck, with a chain leading off that appeared to fade into thin air at about the third or fourth link down, as if it weren’t even fully part of reality.

As if sensing his confusion, Neuvillette gently tightened his hand into a firm grip, and there in his grasp was more of the chain that directly connected to Wriothesley that suddenly took on full physical and solid form with the added tension from the god, tugging ever so slightly on it. Instantly, Wriothesley felt a gentle pull towards Neuvillette, glaring at him. Neither had to exchange words for them both to understand that each knew what this meant, though the claimed did have a remaining question for the god.

“How far? How far are you able to do that from?” Wriothesley asked, trying to growl his words out to give some form of intimidation, but it only came out in a feeble whimper, of which he was embarrassed, but nothing he could do about that now.

Neuvillette, in response, offered him a wide, handsome smile, the light within the room bouncing off his figure, as helping him to gloat about his omnipotence.

“There is no world too far, no heaven too high nor hell too deep, where you won’t be connected to me.”

The look of finality in Neuvillette’s eyes gave Wriothesley the horrific assurance that the hydro dragon god was not lying, could he even lie to Wriothesley? There was no sense of escape from him, and it even felt down in his core that the sooner that he accepted this, the sooner he could live.

Wriothesley turned back to his mirror image, looking at the newly formed bruises on his neck and how they were already beginning to fade. He could only imagine the sorts of changes his body had undergone, having been in the realm of the gods for so long now, and having exchanged bodily fluids with a god, himself. Though, one scarring did remain, the night of the first claiming when Neuvillette bit him, the scars from that bite persisted, never healing, only shown off in emphasis by the choker, as there was a wide circular gap on the exact spot of the bite scars, as if to blatantly show any idiot that dared show interest that Wriothesley was taken, by one the highest level of divinity existing.

There wasn’t much that Wriothesley could ask his god next, but the obvious.

“Well, what do we do now? What else are you going to do to me?” asked Wriothesley, looking at the god in question, his arms closing in on himself to try to make himself smaller, subconsciously.

Neuvillette simply stared at him for a moment, taking in his somewhat ruined form. The sheets were barely hanging onto his claimed now and though the bruises were beginning to fade, their presence was still there. A sense of satisfaction emitted from Neuvillette in the form of a low rumble of approval. There would be no questioning his ownership of Wriothesley now, and if anyone dared, they would be met with the fury of an enraged god, and no one would be there to save them.

After looking over Wriothesley for a little longer, Neuvillette finally decided to answer his question.

“I believe it would be nice for you to get acquainted with other claimed from your homeland of Fontaine. It will do you some good to hear from others in your same, albeit a small bit, different situation. From there, I will grant you one last visit to your old lands, and one final request before you are spirited away back here, to your new home for good, as the claiming law permits. Meeting and conversing with these individuals may help you come to a decision.” Neuvillette stated, not his face not giving way to any emotion, as his gaze was directly on his claimed, observing.

At the mention of having one last visit to his home, Wriothesley’s eyes lit up, only to simmer back down once Neuvillette made it very clear that this is a one and done sort of situation. There will be no going back after the allowance, no returning. His body even felt like it was repulsed by the idea of returning to a world that was so harsh to it, constantly in some sort of pain, suffering or form of anxiety. It craved the warmness of the skies here, the fulfillment that his god would constantly bring him, no worries in the world, only bliss and contentment in this new world that he still barely understood. But his mind, his mind knew that he needed to check in on his adoptive family one last time, the love he had for family fiercely flowed through him.

“Right…when will this meeting take place, then? I doubt presenting myself in my current state would be appropriate.” Wriothesley said rather carelessly, letting his thoughts flow freely.

At the mention of others taking view of his body like this, Neuvillette growled, fiercely, his eyes lighting up in a fit of jealously. No one was to view his claimed like this, ever. This was a treat, a blessing, that Wriothesley could only bestow to him and him alone.

“H-Hey! I said I wouldn’t! Tch-!” Wriothesley cried out in frustration, holding the sheets even more tightly to his body, a blush appearing on his cheeks. The thought of a god wanting him like this and becoming so possessive made him feel embarrassed in a way, but he did delight in it a bit, that he would not deny.

“Do not even fathom such events in your mind, or speak them into existence. You are my claimed, by my right. No one is viewing you like this but me. Do you understand, Wriothesley?” Neuvillette asked, his hand raised and once more held into a tight fist, pulling the chain to give a noticeable tug.

Wriothesley jerked forward a bit, catching himself, as he began to look up and glare at Neuvillette, but simmered down once he saw the fury in the dragon’s eyes. A chill went down his spine, noting that his own existence could be extinguished like a simple afterthought, if Neuvillette so deemed it. Instead, he bowed his head in respect.

“I-I apologize, it won’t happen again, I was out of line for even speaking of that.” Wriothesley admitted, a part of him hating that he was displaying such a level of submission, but at the very core of his soul, he knew that this would be the new normal for him.

“You will be meeting with them this afternoon. I will have my servants come and deliver your clothes. You are to either remain under the sheets in the bed or go to an adjoining room until they are done delivering your garments. From there, they will lead you to where you need to go. I will remove myself from the situation, so that your final request will come more clearly to you without my influence.” Neuvillette stated, but spoke no further after that, waiting for Wriothesley to respond.

“Alright then, I suppose...? How do I address you now, anyway, given our set of circumstances?” Wriothesley asked, in genuine curiosity.

Without a moment of hesitation, Neuvillette offered a simple reply.

 “Husband. You may call me your husband, dear wife.”

•

•

•

Wriothesley couldn’t believe his eyes, once the servants of demigods and lesser gods left him to his own devices, having delivered him to an elegant garden outside of what appeared to be a giant mansion. He spent a decent amount of time wondering about, taking in the sights of fauna that he had never seen the likes of before. Beautiful, blooming flowers, with petals so large they could be mistaken for giant leaves. Normally he’d be having a sneezing fit by now, but as he continued to walk through what felt like constant mazes of twists and turns, his nose never once started to sting or eyes starting to water. This place was perfect, too perfect.

It didn’t take long before he came to a more open section of the garden, with silver tables strewn about, plates of pastries, coffees and other fine assortments on small serving platters at each. He expected for such a place to be quite crowded, but instead it appeared that there were only a handful of others, and from their lack of a powerful aura, as well as similar spectacular adornments around their necks, that these must be the claimed that Neuvillette had mentioned earlier. He knew for certain that Neuvillette wouldn’t have let him wonder about and encounter anyone that he wasn’t supposed to.

Wriothesley, nervously, adjusted the tie of his suit, making sure that it hung lazily around his neck. He was never the one to be dressed so fancily, and although he enjoyed the colors of the suit that matched those of the binding choker, he still felt out of place. Simple rags and clothes were fine for him, but there was no way, especially now being a claimed, that he would be allowed to do such a thing anymore. He’d simply have to get used to all the abundant elegance, as much as it currently annoyed him.

“Monsieur! Monsieur! Are you the new claimed from Fontaine? I simply must have a word with you, I have so many questions!” A lively voice giggled at him from a table near where he was standing. Looking over, Wriothesley took note of a young woman with long, lusciously curled blonde hair and the brightest, peppiest blue eyes he had ever seen, and a face with slight makeup that accented everything beautiful about her. A light breeze picked up, as she made a struggling sound, trying to keep her heavily decorated hat atop her head, her gorgeous amber and black coded dress moving in the breeze with her. Though women weren’t his taste, he would be a fool to not admit that she was stunning, with such a kind and playful charm.

A light tugging could be felt around his neck, a clear warning. Wriothesley mentally sighed to himself, growling in his mind that he could appreciate the appearance of someone without it being a threat. The tightness subsided, but slowly. His husband was a rather jealous god, wasn’t he?

“Here! Let me get that for you!” Wriothesley cried out as he reached for it, but the young woman was able to hold the hat back down to her head just in time, swatting away his hand with a simple motion, making sure to not make any physical contact with him.

“Oh, no, it’s fine! I appreciate the gesture for help, though. You’re new here but I’m sure you already know that our gods are rather…peculiar about who is allowed to touch their claimed, and mine is certainly no different. I’m honestly surprised they agreed for us to have such a private, introduction with each other! So, less chance of angering them, the better, you know?” The young woman giggled, with a bright smile. She didn’t seem phased by any of the situation or upset in the slightest. In fact, her eyes started even shining more brightly as she picked up a small macaroon from the serving tray, happily munching on it.

“Ah! Where are my manners?! I apologize, when I see sweets, my mind tends to wander!” The young woman cleans her hands off with a neatly woven napkin. “The name is Navia, Navia Caspar! Leader of the Spina di Rosula!” Navia giggled, with a slight bow of her head.

Wriothesley stared at her, almost in awe and with some slight confusion, as he tried to piece this information together. Navia took notice of this, her smile fading as there was a sense of concern growing within her that was quite evident. After Wriothesley took notice of her change in attitude, he cleared his throat as he took a sip of tea that had suddenly appeared, already poured for him. No doubt something that his husband was probably responsible for, in some sort of way. Especially since it was his favorite flavor, which just enough sugar and milk to soothe his nerves.

As he calmed down a bit, Wriothesley looked up at Navia’s worried eyes, and finally decided to speak on the matter. “Miss…Navia, I apologize. I didn’t mean to bring any sort of worry to you but, I’m going to be honest. I find it hard to believe what you told me, but your name matches and from what I remember hearing through stories as a kid I just…” Wriothesley sighed, as he continued. “The Spina di Rosula, that was an ancient organization, there’s not even that many texts about it, adults told us stories about the group, like they would be watching us from the shadows and if we were bad, they’d take us away. I didn’t think that you all were real…” continues, in awe and a tad bit of regret. It was probably best if he had just kept his mouth shut, but a part of himself felt like she deserved to know what he did.

Navia stared at him, almost in a glare, as if he were trying to offend her with such ridiculous information. But, as he continued to stare and notice that his reaction and words were probably genuine, her frown deepened as a part of her seemed to break out of whatever hold this realm seemed to establish on the claimed individuals.

“W-what do you mean…? Of course, we were real! Royalty of Fontaine hired us for information collection, bodyguard services! Kids didn’t fear us, they wanted to join us!” She yelled out, hands slamming down on the table, the goodies on the serving tray being moved ajar due to the outburst. Wriothesley merely sat back in a shocked expression, not saying another word and making the situation worse than what it was. Though, surprisingly, Navia seemed to gather herself, fixing her dress and hat, and sighing in defeat.

“I apologize for my outburst there. It’s not often that I meet people from my nation and I, I forget that time moves differently here. I truly do not know how much time has passed and I just assumed you might be from my period…” Navia explained, with a small, sad smile.

“Ah, no, it’s completely my fault and I apologize. I shouldn’t have just blurted all of that out like that, and I’m completely lost when it comes to the passage of time here. Do you have any idea how it works?” Wriothesley asked, hoping to step away from the sensitive topic, while also trying to get enough information out of her to come to some logical conclusion.

“No, I wish I did. Every time a new claimed comes, they’re from all different time periods, or even worlds. It’s been extremely difficult to try to keep up from and when we were. I’m sorry, I wish I could offer more help!” Navia stated, pure disappointment playing through her voice.

“No, no, don’t apologize.” Wriothesley stated, trying to wave off her statement, but taking note of the information, or lack thereof, that she provided. “Sorry, I came to this…place, with little to no information on how any of this works so I’m just trying to piece it together.”

“Ah! Well, that makes two of us! But sometimes you can’t help but just come to terms with it, you know? You were claimed, same as I, and well, this is our current world and maybe giving it all up for someone else to figure out for us isn’t so bad…” Navia began to trail off.

As she was about to continue their conversation, three other individuals started to walk forward towards their table, one more so rushing towards them than the other two.

“Ah, hello friends, welcome! What a magnificent day, wouldn’t you agree?” A young male’s voice rang out, as he took to taking the seat between Wriothesley and Navia, twisting a top hat in his hands, before tossing it into the air and catching it was ease, doing a little chuckle as he did so, obviously loving to show off.

“Really, brother? Must you be so insufferable as of late? The moment you hear of a new claimed from Fontaine, you absolutely go off the deep end…” Another voice of a young woman popped up, taking another seat closer to Navia, noticeably different from the rest as a pair of cat ears were poking out of her head, and a thin cat tail swooshing behind her in annoyance, her simple dress swaying in the slight breeze as well. A third, smaller, figure took the last seat between the two of them, in a simple suit and hat, keeping his head down, blushing lightly. “Brother…” the smallest one warned, while keeping rather reserved.

“Well, dear sister, it’s not every day that Monsieur Neuvillette takes an interest in anyone…in fact, I think this is the first time! Imagine that! The stoic judge, finally laying the law of claim down on someone. You truly must be extraordinary, Wriothesley!” The young man cheered, a devilish smirk plastered on his face, earning a gaze from his sister across the table.

“Lyney! You act like you’re so casual about the Iudex, show some respect!” She hisses, literally hisses at him.

“Wait, how do you know my name?” Wriothesley finally manages to speak up, looking at the trio. Navia stares at them as well, though a small fraction of a smile gives way that she knows more to the situation than he does.

“Well, duh! That’s our job! Father makes sure that we have information on just about everyone as soon as possible.” Lyney shrugs, as he leans back in his seat, looking at Wriothesley almost as if what he asked could have been taken as a joke.

“Wait, father…do you mean your god is like a father figure towards you three?” Wriothesley pressed, eager to learn more.

“Mn, that is correct. Not every claimed is under the same circumstances. For you and Navia, your gods chose you as spouses, or mates, and developed a strong relationship through that route of a bond. However, our father took pity on us, as we grew up on the streets of Fontaine as orphans, doing little magic shows or other various street performances to survive. Father kept attending our shows, and we managed to pique their interests. Wasn’t long after that when Father evoked the law of claim, and after appearing in court to Neuvillette, was approved not one, but three claims. It was a rare case, but Father is well, our father now, and strives to teach us about the world and give us the lives we never had, which we should be forever thankful for, right, brothers?” The young lady addressed the other two, having explained all of this to Wriothesley in a rather strict, and yet almost bored voice.

“Y-yes, Lynette…” The smallest boy stuttered out, still choosing to keep his head low, eyes refusing to meet anyone else’s. The boy might shatter if that managed to happen, giving how reclusive he seemed.

“Ah, my dear sister Lynette has such a way with words, doesn’t she?” Lyney states, almost in a dreamful manner, his performance personality surely shining through his every action, it seemed. “Now, let’s get to know you a little more, Wriothesley, plus I’m curious to know how Fontaine is doing here of late. I can only imagine a considerable amount of time has passed since we were claimed.” Lyney says, urging Wriothesley to share his story and any information he may have.

Wriothesley cleared his throat, after taking some more sips of the most delicious tea he’s ever had and tells them every bit of information that they requested of him, and more so. He tells them about the hardships he faced as an orphan with his abusive, adoptive family, how he strove to protect his adoptive brothers and sisters, and what lengths he went through to ensure their well beings. He continues, now adding in the information oh so graciously provided by Neuvillette, where the god had placed such a curse on him to ruin his luck, forcing him towards hardships to help build himself towards deserving a claim from him.

Navia frowns halfway through his story, giving him soft looks of pity, while the other three engage in further conversation.

“Ah, the mighty Iudex works in mysterious ways. A little tough in my opinion, but who am I to judge? Certainly not me towards the actual judge, that’s for sure!” Lyney chuckles, while his sister groans at his obvious attempt at a joke.

“W-Wriothesley…? Are you ready for one last back trip back…soon…?” The small, young boy managed to barely whisper out, but all of them were attentive enough to pay attention and listen, not urging him to speak louder or bring further attention to him. Navia and Wriothesley safely assumed that they were all lucky that he managed to speak at all, especially bringing up a question by himself without any pressuring.

“Is, is this normal? For people like us, I mean?” Wriothesley asked, looking at all of them around the table. All eyes were on him, with a sweet, understanding tone and yet, there was still a hint of sadness and awareness about something that he was dying to figure out.

“Surprisingly, yes, unless the claimed really made their god mad, or earned some sort of divine punishment. After making the claim official with the placing of a collar, necklace, or some sort of other way of marking around the neck, the claimed is usually granted one last visit to their homeland, and one wish while on that visit. Of course, it can’t be anything that would lead to a breaking of the bond, and if you tried to grant yourself distance with the wish from them, don’t bother. It’ll be a complete waste of time for the two of you. It’s already far too late to try to escape, consider this as one last mercy before your new life officially begins.” Lyney takes it upon himself to explain, the rest of them nodding in agreeance.

“Well, I suppose it’s no harm in telling.” Navia speaks up, as she continues. “For my wish, I wanted both of my bodyguards to have Clorinde’s protection while I was away, for as long as they lived. They both served me well in my mortal life, protected me and practically raised me since my parents died when I was still rather young. I spent one last day with them together, before I came home here. I do hope they had the best of lives, they deserved it and so much more…” Navia whispered her last statement, patting her eyes with her elegant napkin, but not in sadness. A wide smile and blush played on her face, clearly remembering the two of them fondly.

“Wait, so you weren’t able to look over them and watch them live their lives out?” Wriothesley asked, anxiety starting to brew within his soul. Everyone know that a claimed was taken out of their regular realm and into one of the divine, but it never fully registered in his mind what that meant, especially since this was the current scenario that he was facing.

Navia simply shook her head before she replied.

“No, our gods like to separate us from our old life, that way we won’t remember the pains and anguishes of the past. I can understand it, to a degree, but I do hate not being able to see what happened to those I care about. It’s part of the curse of the claimed, I suppose you can call it. We’re granted all this greatness, but we must give up our old lives for this new one.”

Wriothesley remained silent as the rest of them started to converse with themselves, about different subjects now, of times now in their new life that they shared, if they had seen that one old god fall down the stairs or see that snooty looking one get what they deserved at the end of the day. He wanted to listen in so badly, but his mind was riddled with questions, as the answers he received only made his drive for knowledge about all of this so much stronger.

It wasn’t until he lifted his head and saw how all of them were getting together, like one small little family.

Family.

They loved and had each other to rely on, to keep them company, to love and to teach each other. His heart ached as he thought for a moment that such an option for him didn’t exist now. Sure, he wasn’t into women, but that never stopped his want of having a family for himself one day, somehow. Sure, he could have a friend family through this Fontaine group, but a part of him wanted something more personal, his own to take care of, a hidden desire he had always had as a regular mortal.

He wanted his own family, would Neuvillette want one with him?

[akoo9]

Who do you think fell in love first: Yashiro or Doumeki?

I love this Simple yet important question…..i think about this each time i re-read the story…..I actually have abit different view about “love”…..i have this idea that love cannot come at first stage…but its a result….. so there is two answers for ur question (u’ve to bear with the strange assignment i will write)

First answer is that….both of them fell into each other at first sight (just their timing was different) doumeki saw yashiro first at the office and fell at first sight or got attracted to him without knowing what it is…….later when d got transferred,and entered Yashiro’s office …..yashiro in that moment once his eyes landed on doumeki,he also fell in love with d…yashiro was having this look towards doumeki….

As we know,yashiro is smart one and he read ppl at first glance,but he’s here gazing doumeki ….he’s definitely interested in what he’s seeing considering doumeki is his type add on that doumeki’s non-readable vibes.

Yashiro couldn’t even resist doumeki and went straight up to sucking his dik….funny part is how later on(yashiro said that doumeki should have said earlier that he’s impo)but boiiii u didn’t even gave a chance…u just straight up went into it, and breaking ur rule for somone u just saw….

So both had same start….just doumeki saught yashiro first…(that’s also soldfiy doumeki’s answer when he said (that he will have similar feelings to yashiro even if they had met earlier too)something like that….doumeki just said the information that yashiro smiles when he’s mad.

next pic is yashiro smiling towards doumeki …..unlike what everyone says that b carful of him he smile when he’s mad…..i bet doumeki from this moment started to develop his attachment aka(love feelings)bcz yashiro treated him differently from the start

And after this smile is where love starts……in my way of thinking…..they both were felling into each other’s…….

U can already scan in ur mind the chapters at beginning and how doumeki has the special treatment from yashiro….even before the bath scene were doumeki admit(he never been this attracted to somone) ….so this make us imagine and interpret that yashiro fell first…..

doumeki was more aware of his feelings anyway

But we have yashiro not realizing his deepest feelings for doumeki even till ch56…..this boii taking forever to realise he fell for d…..yashiro fell the hardest into doumeki to level that it scares him too since beginning…..once it kicked in he freaked out and threw away doumeki

Till ch56 we still don’t know doumeki’s internal dialogue about this all……if they both fell into each other’s at first sight……then fell in love at close timing or same time

We might find out later doumeki’s feelings and how he’s dieing and yearning for yashiro too…so probably not just yashiro , but might both of them fell into each other the hardest

Back to simple answer: doumeki fell first,yashiro the hardest (technically both of them experience same thing at same level let’s just wait and see doumeki’s side of this)

[secretmellowblog]

@pilferingapples Boulatruelle is the most underrated Les mis character and he did NOTHING wrong! At least That’s my Boulatruelle Fan Theory #BoulatruelleFansRiseUp.

(Ok I’m joking. But still.)

OK SO (for people who haven’t read Les mis in a bit.) Boulatruelle is a minor character who is an ex-convict, like Valjean. He sorta represents what might’ve happened to Valjean if Valjean hadn’t gotten Myriel’ed/committed identity fraud.

Boulatruelle works as a road-mender outside Montfermil, getting paid starvation wages. When we first see him we’re not (iirc) explicitly told if he’s done anything criminal since leaving prison but— like Valjean in Digne— everyone in town already hates him for being an ex-convict. It doesn’t matter if he’s “guilty” or not, they’d hate him either way. And also like Valjean in Digne, Boulatruelle is overly submissive/deferential to all the bigoted people around him because he has to be in order to survive. The threat of being returned to prison is always hanging over him.

He was subjected to certain police supervision, and, as he could find work nowhere, the administration employed him at reduced rates as a road-mender on the crossroad from Gagny to Lagny. This Boulatruelle was a man who was viewed with disfavor by the inhabitants of the district as too respectful, too humble, too prompt in removing his cap to every one, and trembling and smiling in the presence of the gendarmes,—probably affiliated to robber bands, they said; suspected of lying in ambush at verge of copses at nightfall. The only thing in his favor was that he was a drunkard.

When Valjean buries his money in the woods, Boulatrelle attempts to figure out where he’s hidden it. Which yeah, i guess it sucks he’s trying to steal or whatever, but hey he’s having a rough time. And stealing things from a saintly dude worked out for Valjean so

But here’s the thing— Boulatruelle KNOWs Valjean! He recognizes him from Toulon! We’re told he’s a “comrade from the galleys” and recognizes him in sight! He could give away Valjean’s identity!

People in the town—especially Thenardier— begin to get suspicious about Boulatruelle digging in the woods. They realize he must’ve seen someone bury money there and attempt to get the information out of him .

And because he’s a “drunkard”— or really, an alcoholic— Thenardier decides the best way to manipulate him is by getting him drunk. This is explicitly compared to another person’s suggestion that they torture the information out of him:

One evening the schoolmaster affirmed that in former times the law would have instituted an inquiry as to what Boulatruelle did in the forest, and that the latter would have been forced to speak, and that he would have been put to the torture in case of need, and that Boulatruelle would not have resisted the water test, for example. “Let us put him to the wine test,” said Thénardier.

But even with all that, Boulatruelle never gives up Valjean’s name. He stubbornly refuses. That makes it seem like…he really does have a conscience, at least at first?

Idk to me it seems that Boulatruelle starts out like Digne Valjean — but gets corrupted utterly as the story goes on. In his first chapter it’s implied he still can occasionally be driven by his conscience (not giving up Valjean’s name even under duress)…. but by the end of the book that’s sorta gone. We only get a couple very brief flashes of his life, but to me he seems like an alternate universe version of Valjean who wasn’t helped by the bishop, and instead was manipulated by someone who took advantage of how desperate and isolated he was.

The next time we see him is during the Gorbeau House ambush. It’s years later, and he is now part of Thenardier’s gang. That’s depressing but it makes sense— he made so little as a road-mender, everyone hated him, and if he was attempting to live even Somewhat “honestly” it wasn’t working. In that intro chapter scene with we’re shown that Boulatruelle is surrounded by people who want to send him back to prison and have him tortured— but Thenardier acts like his “friend” and easily manipulates him with alcohol.

But like …during the Gorbeau house ambush it sorta looks like Boulatruelle’s heart isn’t in it?

Boulatruelle is so drunk he barely knows what’s going on. (Which again, feels related to the earlier scene where Thenardier manipulates Boulatrelle to keep drinking more than he should in order to make him behave the way he wants.)

At the trampling which ensued, the other ruffians rushed up from the corridor. (Boulatrelle), who seemed under the influence of wine, descended from the pallet and came reeling up, with a stone-breaker’s hammer in his hand.

Iirc he makes no indication that he recognizes Valjean—hmmm— but is very easily defeated after receives a punch in the face from Valjean when Valjean is trying to escape, and is knocked out/sleeps through the rest of the ambush. Again it sorta feels like he doesn’t particularly care about any of it.

That’s unlucky for Thenardier because again, he’s the only dude there who could’ve told him who Valjean actually was. Idk it’s funny that if Thenardier had set basic rules like “don’t show up to the important ambush blackout drunk” he might’ve actually had an upper hand against Valjean— if Boulatruelle had been willing to share his knowledge this time, anyway.

(There’s also a line in a later chapter where he says “this prowler of patron-Minette has his reasons,” while talking about how he needs to find out where Valjean has hidden his money. I’m not sure if that line is referring to himself as the “prowler,” Or if it’s meant to imply he knew Valjean was the one Patron-Minette had ambushed and just hadn’t told anyone.)

(AND SIDE NOTE: we all talk about how Valjean is paranoid about the police in the Gorbeau House scene, but I’m just realizing he must’ve been so paranoid about Boulatruelle too?? Because in the chapter where Boulatruelle talks about him he makes it sounds like Valjean would also recognize HIM on sight. I think it’s also interesting that when Valjean is trying to escape by force in the first couple minutes, Boulatruelle is the only one he knocks out. It feels deliberate. Sure; Boulatrelle is so drunk he just kinda falls asleep after being punched. But it’s also not hard to see why Valjean would be especially afraid of him.)

But yeah Boulatruelle literally sleeps through the whole ambush! He’s like, the Anti-Grantaire. Drunkenly sleeping through the big event because he genuinely doesn’t care. He’s not being actively evil as much as he’s letting himself get dragged along.

He’s also the Anti-Grantaire in that, when all his allies get punished by authority, he’s spared punishment because he drunkenly slept through the whole thing. He doesn’t wake up to stand by them and accept punishment by their side, he’s totally cool with not going to prison while they do.

In the meanwhile, the agents had caught sight of the drunken man asleep behind the door, and were shaking him:—

He awoke, stammering:—

“Is it all over, Jondrette?”

I wonder if the weird barricade parallels are another relic of that earlier draft of the book where Patron-Minette were a bigger thing.

…and Interestingly, it’s only after the rest of Patron-Minette gets arrested that Boulatruelle seems to really become fully corrupted?

The last we see of him is a callback to his first chapter. He’s no longer with Patron-Minette or Thenardier— they were arrested and he was not— so he’s alone and a road-mender again.

Only now, everything is Even Worse? Hes no longer described as trembling and smiling and deferential, but as openly breaking things and robbing people. We’re no longer told that bigoted townspeople assume he’s robbing people with no proof other than “he’s an ex-con,” we’re told that he IS robbing people openly at every opportunity. We’re told that he drinks even more than he used to. The first time Boulatrelle saw Valjean (in his first chapter) he had considered following him, but later refuses to reveal his identity; this time, he follows Valjean with a weapon and an intent to kill.

…..however i do admit there is a possibility I’m overthinking this. XD I’ve mentioned before that I feel like the side Patron-Minette characters are often the weakest part of the book, and feel like relics from early drafts (because they are.) It’d be incomplete to talk about Boulatruelle without admitting that his alcoholism/state of constant drunkenness is often played for comedy. His final scene where he discovers Valjean has dug up his money, and angrily shrieks that he’s a Thief, is also played for comedy. There’s something really interesting about the way he’s set up as a foil for Valjean, but if I’m being honest I don’t think Hugo follows through on it completely.

It’s like he’s set up as a character foil for Valjean, a “what if Valjean had fallen in with Thenardier instead of Myriel” —but yeah while I do think that’s there, I also think Hugo doesn’t seem as interested in exploring that idea as I am XD. Like a lot of the side members of Patron Minette, Boulatruelle feels a bit incomplete.

But there’s really a lot of potential in a character who represents the Corruption Arc Valjean might’ve had without the bishop? To me it seems like Boulatruelle first chapter focuses on the tragedy of being newly released from prison in ways that pretty explicitly echo Valjean’s — the way he’s isolated, a victim of bigotry and all these systemic barriers, “trembling and smiling” in the presence of the police. But in Boulatrelle’s case all the bigoted things the townspeople say about him in his introduction end up being true— he does end up affiliated with “robber bands,” he does plan to ambush Valjean in a dark forest at night. And I feel like it’s in large part as a result of falling in with Thenardier as a “friend.”

Idk I feel like the point is supposed what Valjean says earlier— “there are no bad plants and no bad men; there are only bad cultivators.” Boulatrelle ended up kinda sucking as a person, but he didn’t have to.

I sorta wish he managed to attempt to rob Valjean that first time, because Valjean might have been to Boulatruelle what the bishop was to him? And In AU where he redeemed himself it would be Good for Valjean to develop some kind of healthy friendship with someone who was dealing with the same “ex-con” struggles as him? Maybe the reason I stan Boulatruelle is because Valjean needs a friend and I want him to be redeemed for Valjean’s sake? And anyway that’s my fixit fic, thank you for reading XD.

[sunnytastic-and-the-olympians]

Wooohooo!!! I just finished The Sea of Monsters!!!

Man, this book is such a fun read. I love, love, love that the plot had Percy, Annabeth, and Tyson traveling through water because it really gave Percy's nautical powers a chance to shine. None of the other books return to the sea as much as The Sea of Monsters does, which makes sense for the over-arching plots, but it is a bit of a loss. Placing the Son of the Sea God in a Sea of Monsters really just is the perfect setting and it makes for a really fun plot.

Reading The Sea of Monsters is definitely the most fun I've had with reading in a long time. The last time I felt this excited to read was a couple of months ago when I reread Feels Like We Only Go Backwards by oldpotatoe on AO3 (it is an absolute banger of a fanfiction. I highly recommend it to anyone, especially Zukka fans, but truly, it's good enough for anyone to enjoy). Before that, I hadn't picked up a book in months.

But now? I feel so excited to keep reading that it's taking everything in me to not immediately dive into The Titan's Curse. But alas, I have school and responsibilities, etc. (Blah, adulthood is the worst. Please transport me back to the time when I was so eager to read, that I would constantly get in trouble for reading in class).

But the important thing is, my love for reading has returned. Reading is pure magic. There are words on paper that transport you to a different realm where there are rainbow fish-horses who can talk, sirens waiting to tempt you to your doom, and a magical golden fleece powerful enough to bring a girl back from the dead.

I realized in my blog post about The Lightning Thief, that I didn't mention Luke. While this was just forgetfulness on my part (I was writing it at 5 am. This time I am writing it at the very reasonable time of 11 pm), I'm actually glad I didn't write about him because Luke has a much more active role in The Sea of Monsters.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Luke is the definition of a sympathetic villain. Every time he's in a scene, I can feel the hurt radiating off of him, and I understand how he was so easily manipulated by Kronos. The Olympians have done nothing but torment Luke. How can he be expected to resist the temptation to replace the Olympians with a new reigning power- one Luke has been misled to believe will be fair?

I suppose this is where the hero aspect comes in: Percy has every reason to hate the Olympians as much as Luke- Hades held his mother captive as bait, Ares tricked him into possessing Zeus' Lightning Bolt, Poseidon fails to show up for him- but Percy stands strong against Kronos' evil anyways.

However, Percy's automatic refusal to consider if the Olympians are worth fighting for is naive, and it fails him as a protagonist until The Last Olympian. If I remember correctly, Percy doesn't truly understand Luke's perspective until the final battle, but when he finally does, he is so moved by it, that he finishes advocating for Luke's cause when he demands the gods take responsibility for claiming their children.

The reason Percy is unwilling to consider Luke's point of view is because of Luke's betrayal, and yet without Luke's betrayal, there wouldn't be a serious point of view to consider. Though, this is where I am going to end my discussion on Percy and his relationship with betrayal. I have decided I will analyze it after The Last Olympian, and then again after The Mark of Athena, specifically so I can talk about Nico's betrayal because I believe Percy's interactions with Nico afterward provide the best material for understanding Percy and his attitude towards betrayal.

Oh, and speaking of Nico, I miss him so goddamn much. I didn't notice in The Lightning Thief, probably because the story focuses so much on world-building rather than character development, but I did notice Nico's absence in The Sea of Monsters. Perhaps it is my affection for him (he was the first character who made me feel like it was okay to be queer), but the Percy Jackson World feels a little incomplete without its gay brooding anti-hero. The good news is he shows up in the next book, The Titan's Curse!

Speaking of side characters, Annabeth is a much more fleshed-out character in The Sea of Monsters as compared to The Lightning Thief. In particular, I think the Siren's Bay scene is a major turning point for her character. She now has her own motivations, beyond just wanting to do good and help Percy, and the audience learns about her fatal flaw. She feels real, not just a prop to help Percy on his adventures. I'm very excited to see her character continue to grow and develop.

Another side character I really liked is Clarisse. I will always empathize with a character who is pressured by her parents to succeed at all costs. It was very satisfying to see her get her hero's ending.

Ok, I definitely think this counts as a blog post about The Sea of Monsters, even if there was a fair bit of future The Last Olympian analysis too. I'm excited to continue my adventure of reading the Riordanverse. The Titan's Curse is next!!

As always, TLDR: The Sea of Monsters is fun, Percy and Luke are narrative foils, and Annabeth and Clarisse have great character development.

Oh, and in case anyone is interested, this post is about 950 words. Brain zoomies will have you doing the silliest things sometimes.

Links to the other posts in the Isa Rereads Percy Jackson series:

The Lightning Thief

The Titan's Curse

[journalforamerica]

On My Block

On My Block is a coming-of-age story that works through the battles that come from living in the hood. Jamal, Monse, Reuben, and Cesar are a crew, best friends from before the show began. They’re each from different backgrounds, Monse having grown up without a mom, Jamal who has been living a lie to make his parents proud, Reuben (Ruby) who is too smart for his own good, and Cesar whose family is part of the local gang and in turn, force him into that lifestyle. This story relates to the screenings and readings by establishing a unique perspective with diversity at its core. 

From top to bottom: Ruby Martinez, Cesar Diaz, Jamal Turner, and Monse Finnie.

The characters throughout the show focus on their ability to be friends against hardships. The first season focuses on Cesar and his life inside the gang. The crew knows that this life isn't for Cesar and they do everything to help him. This type of life they live all relates to a cultural identity: a shared home, language, and even cultural barriers. Cesar, Jamal, Ruby, and Monse would do everything to protect one another, even if it meant danger for themselves. I think that speaks to their ability to adapt to their rough environment which can be attributed to the stereotypes that come with being Hispanic and Black.

Although this show focuses on four main characters, one character, Monse stands out among the rest. Monse identifies as multiracial: she’s Black, Latinx, and White. This weekly reading is about multiracial and mixed-persons. Being mixed in this country has many connotations and the article addresses how many students struggle with their cultural identity because they are multiracial. For example, in the NYTimes article written by Susan Saulny she writes, “..But, he continued, “I don’t even like to identify myself as a race anymore. My family has been pulling me in two directions about what I am. I just want to be a person.”.” (Saulny, 2011) It can be hard not knowing as well, Monse didn’t grow up knowing her mom or her heritage, but learning about that side also gave her a new perspective. She got to appreciate both sides, which is very similar to the reactions the students got when they realized they could celebrate themselves, not based on what they identify as, but just because they are there. UWM’s own Professor Gregory Jay once stated, ““Race,” then, can be socially constructed by marginalized groups as a vehicle for self-understanding, political resistance, and cultural affirmation.” (Jay, NA) Professor Jay means that groups like Monse’s can view race as a common ground rather than a diverging point.

GIF: Cesar (the one with the gun) was threatened (by the guy in the jacket) in a drive-by. The one in the jacket pulled a gun on him. Cesar's brother determined Cesar's best bet at living would be killing the other guy first. This isn't what Cesar wants. This scene depicts what I think can be seen in real life. I've never experienced it, but drive-bys and gang violence are real. They happen, and this scene shows what can occur if someone doesn't really want to participate but is at risk if they don't.

This next scene (shortened on YouTube), is an honorable mention for me. When it comes to racial identity or ethnic identity, this show doesn't explicitly touch on those topics. It's a given when the show features an entirely diverse main cast. However, this scene specifically plays into the intersectionality that was explored in this course. Socioeconomic status is always a topic that arises when dealing with racial disparity and identity. The Halloween scene is the first time the audience sees the characters outside the hood. They go to Brentwood, the preppy, rich neighborhood. The people in this neighborhood are almost entirely white and of a higher socioeconomic status than the main characters. As the scene will show, there's hostility between the poor and the rich kids based mainly on where they grew up and how they lived. I mentally noted this scene specifically as being one that screams importance regarding racial identity and status.

Citations:

Saulny, S. (2013, February 5). More young Americans identify as mixed race. The New York Times. https://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/30/us/30mixed.html

"Terms for Multicultural Studies: Defining "Race", "Ethnicity", and "Nationality" - Prof. Gregory Jay

[thedawningofthehour]

doth!draxum is the type of villain you want to squeeze really tightly in your fist and scream at him in angry tears but at the same time acknowledge his absolute genius.

ngl i see a lot of fics with intentional holes in villains which the protagonists use to save the day and yada yada (which is still obviously important sometimes), or just blunt personality traits that do not add up to the character as a whole when you think about it; like "oh, i, draxum, will hate the very beings i have created and treat them like absolute shit just because i can, despite the fact that if i treated them properly then they'd thrive and be open to whatever plans i have for them because they actually understand what i am doing for yokai and be met with little to no resistance and, /bonus/, have (some) kickass son(s)"

there are still a lot of good fics with this but. idk. it really just doesn't strike me as something draxum would do.

doth draxum is the complete opposite and is just so downright realistic. i haven't angrily loved a villain like this in a good while. fact, i dont even think villain is the right term, since what he's doing could potentially save both yokai and humankind alike from an even worse fate. reality sucks and draxum already knows that, and he taught galois that too. donnie just viewed it as draxum killing off the human race(might be wrong on that part since i need to go re-read) and didn't quite take in the actual crisis approaching.

what i just spewed might be literal bullshit but. it's my bullshit.

anywayssss love the writing sm can't wait for next chapter even if it'll break this poor little heart even more.

I don't want to start ragging on other writers/artists here. They had their own visions for how their creative works would look and Evil Draxum fit that. That's fine. It's just a different vibe than what I wanted, that's all.

I think the point a lot of Grimdark Draxum people get hung up on is the scene where he throws Leo off the roof, with the whole "I will not hesitate to destroy you" thing. (sidenote, I do not have Leo be salty about that NEARLY enough) From there, yeah, he does look like a ruthless villain who would do classically evil things just because he can.

But Draxum is one of those characters whose words say one thing and his actions say another. He does hesitate to destroy them. Not Leo, he legit thought Leo was going to die and didn't give a fuck, (in my canon he did this because Leo is his least favorite-he wouldn't have done it to the other three) but he deals with them all several times before coming to the conclusion that they have to die. And even after he assembles Evil Justice League and does a whole music number about killing them-he stands there and asks them to join him again. He has a group of pissed-off mutants at his back who all really hate the turtles and got all excited for murder. He's 100% willing to burn those bridges and piss those guys off if it means he doesn't have to kill his turtles. And even then, after giving them what he explicitly states is their final, point-of-no-return offer...he's out there trying to convince them again, using Lou Jitsu as an in with them. Draxum does not want them dead. He's willing to kill them, but it's established that Draxum is willing to sacrifice just about anything for his cause, so that's not saying much.

And then another thing is his behavior at the end of s1 when he gets close to the dark armor, with the whole kidnapping the boys and threatening to torture them to death in front of their father kind of thing. Yeah. That was fucked. I feel like the dark armor and the taunting of power really, really fucked with Draxum's head. In my canon Cass kind of snapped him out of that when she told him that the armor would all but kill him, and he realized how far gone he was. Cass and Gale kind of serve as good grounding points for him now.

Also, I just want to point out, this was the face Draxum made when he first laid eyes on his creations:

That is not the face of a man who is ambivalent about them dying.

So yeah, while Draxum's original plan for Donnie was not as fluffy and affectionate as what he ended up going with, it wasn't cruel. He would have still fed him well and made sure he was getting enough sleep because those things would have affected the quality of his work, he would have provided medical care because what use did he have for a sick or injured engineer? Taking care of Donnie was worth the extra time and expense because a healthy Donnie would be more productive and would do better work. Just in terms of numbers, it made more sense to be decent to him. There probably would have been some mental and physical abuse, but mostly just to make Donnie reliant on him and keep him from rebelling.

Also he still absolutely thinks of the change of plans as purely a numbers thing. It would simply produce better results of he did it like this. Feelings never came into play here. Baron Draxum does not get attached, especially not to turtles who cuss him out while strapped to his lab table.

Oh no, Draxum is 100% genociding the human race. He's willing to mutate some of them-mostly kids, because they aren't shitheads yet and he thinks they might be redeemable. This isn't exactly mercy-this is something real-life colonizers do to ethnic groups they're trying to destroy. Take their kids and make them 'their own'. That was the whole deal with residential schools and there are definitely people who utilize international adoption to 'save' and Christianize non-white babies. Draxum genuinely believes that humans are evil by virtue of being human. Most human adults are too corrupted, but he might be able to save some of them by mutating them, and the children deserve a chance to be saved.

It just kind of goes to show what a shit situation we're in that That is actually something that could halt the impending mass extinction event caused by climate change.

[ursafootprints]

What draws you to the starker pairing? I was browsing the tag the other day and encountered drama about others thinking it’s romanticizing a wholesome father/son relationship… I’ve never seen it that way but maybe it’s my fatherless eyes that skew it. LOL! I know pairings don’t have to be canon to be enjoyed so I’m curious what you like about starker and what made that switch flip for you.

Oooh, so many reasons! (To… the point that I'm putting up a read-more because it got very long, haha.)

Some of them only minimally have to do with Tony and Peter themselves-- I enjoy age-gap ships and mentor-mentee ships in general, so that was already a built-in appeal.

For age-gap ships, there's a special kind of Spicy that comes from "forbidden love" narratives where the "forbidden" part is actually warranted-- it's not just based on societal prejudices like forbidden love based around homophobia/racism/classism; there are some pretty legitimate reasons why major age gaps tend to be a bad idea! Characters being put in a situation where they've found someone that they love deeply, but acting on those feelings means potentially alienating their other loved ones over very real concerns (instead of just bigotry or w/e), but they want/love each other so much they can't resist going for it anyway even though they understand it's a bad idea? Delicious, feed it to me slowly like grapes.

For the mentor-mentee thing, I really love the process of relationships changing from one category into another category, where the boundaries of the relationship blur and shift and the characters have to grapple with what it feels like to suddenly redefine their view of the other person/their relationship/their interactions. I love this even for platonic relationships (any scene where a teacher/mentor realizes that they're actually on equal footing with their student/mentee, or even being surpassed by them, is chef's kiss) but especially for romantic ones! And obvs that pairs super well with the age-gap thing, since the shift from viewing the younger partner as "a kid I have to protect/keep an eye on/put up with/mentor/whatever" to "someone I could have an adult relationship with" goes right along with that and is the perfect set-up for my favorite ship seasoning: g u i l t.

(I also enjoy incest ships for all of these reasons, so the fact that Tony and Peter's relationship in canon can be read as a kinda-sorta parental surrogate thing is not actually a neutral factor for me, lmao.)

So Starker is partially just a perfect platform for themes that I'm already inherently attracted to, but then you add in the specifics of their actual dynamic/characters and mmmm.

Peter being a superhuman/superhero and what that does to their dynamic when Peter's already grown up too fast in so many ways? (And what the fact that Peter is actually at an utter physical advantage compared to Tony does to the Vibes, whether you're using it to balance out the emotional power imbalance in softer Starker or showcasing just how strong that emotional imbalance is when Tony doesn't need to actually be "stronger" than Peter to take advantage of him in dark Starker?)

The parallels in their experiences (orphans, superheroes) and personalities (sass, scientific genius, being huge fuckin' goofballs despite the scientific genius, guilt/responsibility complexes a mile wide)? The way that affects Tony, seeing this person so much like himself but without all of the parts that he uses to keep people from getting too close? The way it allows them to understand each other so deeply, and to have to go easier on themselves, when they can see their own habits reflected back at them in the person they love?

The fact that Tony literally canonically invented time travel to get Peter (and Peter specifically) back, and died to do it?!?!??!?!

Well, fuck! You've got the recipe for a ship that I'm still actively writing for over a year after first getting into it, I guess.

(Though this is also why I'm generally not into no-powers and other full-canon-replacement AUs for Starker-- every facet of their canon dynamic makes the ship even better for me, so mundane AUs or same-age AUs or outright villain/SIM Tony etc. etc. rub off some of the polish from what I like about them! I do genuinely love that Starker fandom has so many different flavors of Starker to sample, though, even if a lot of those flavors aren't ones that I'm gonna try.)

tl;dr: it's a good ship brent.

Thank you for the ask 💖💖💖

[4e7her]

october writing prompt #14 - clothing swap

-

character: floyd and jade leech, twisted wonderland

(floyd focused but both appear)

contains: oc used as main character - not an x reader, slight yandere themes, male main character, azul mentioned

view the oc here. for basics, he's more or less a black panther beastman (referred to as hybrid, as they are different things, but similar) named yuujirou. you can read the fanfic i'm writing for him here (quotev) or here (ao3).

Yuujirou let out a rather... undignified yelp as Floyd tugged him into the water, hissing slightly at the feeling of his uniform getting drenched, resisting the urge to shake out like a dog as he instead glared at the eel.

"Whaaat? You weren't comin' in!" Floyd whined, wrapping around the panther with his mer-form, petulantly pouting. "I can squeeze ya so much better in here!"

Sighing, he rolled his eyes and pushed him away with ease, a soft growl rumbling through. He wasn't truly irritated - Floyd would have been out of his life much sooner, if he was - but that didn't mean that he enjoyed the feeling of rough fabric sticking to his skin.

"Yes, but... I was trying to ask you if you had swimming clothes of any sort that I could borrow. It's a bit late for that now, though..."

"Huh? Silly Yuuji, why would I need swim clothes?" The eel was rightfully confused, gesturing down at his form as he continued to circle around the hybrid playfully, still keeping his proper distance after being pushed away.

"Oh... yeah."

His tone was apparently sad enough to make Floyd to burst into laughter, shaking his head and darting around as he watched the panther flatten his ears with the hint of a flush high on his cheeks, adjusting the collar of his shirt uncomfortably.

"Eheh! You totally didn't realize, did you~?" He teased, inching closer once more, watching how Yuujirou reacted with a smirk on his face. "Silly kitty cat! Come on, let's play tag~! If you win, I'll let you borrow some of my clothes, m'kay? I'll even let you be it!"

The scene flips within mere seconds at that, Yuujirou's pupils suddenly shrinking into slits as a feral grin started to sneak onto his expression, the idea of the thrill of the hunt coaxing him into acting on the instincts that he suppressed most of the time.

Floyd giggled at his expression before quickly racing underwater, starting the chase.

-

The duo was always like this - causing trouble by feeding off of each other's more animalistic instincts, play fighting like this wherever they went.

Typically, the panther tried to be more aware of where this happened, but there had been more than one occasion where Jade had to break them apart in the middle of the hallways.

At least now, it was in a pretty okay location - the pool that also served as an aquarium in the Monstro Lounge. There would be some stares, but nothing that Azul and Jade wouldn't deal with.

He was sure it would be more amusing than anything else, anyways, watching someone with Floyd's reputation get chased by someone most didn't quite perceive as a threat yet. A mistake on their parts, not that they would know that.

It took only minutes for Yuujirou to catch the eel, much to both of their delights, and they both surfaced to get out with a giddy energy about them. If it wasn't for the lack of proper clothing, he thought that he might've been able to play like that all day - it was rather refreshing.

Jade was there waiting with an expression somewhere between fond and exasperated, poorly disguising a laugh when he saw just how soaked the hybrid was. "It's impressive that you caught Floyd that fast underwater, you know." He tries to compliment, seeing how he received a glare for his laughing.

"Panthers are known to drag out crocodiles out of the water whole when they're hunting." Yuujirou replied bluntly, satisfied to see the way that both of the eels shiver at the fact. "Dragging out a little eel was nothing."

"Ehhh? But you're smaller than me, Yuuji!" Floyd reminded, wrapping his arms around the panther with a grin despite his slight nerves with the fact brought up. "Look! Ya fit in my arms so cute, ehe~!"

Huffing, he rolled his eyes and shrugged the eel off of him, getting out of the water without another thought and taking the towel that Jade was offering out.

"Floyd, here." The more responsible twin handed off a potion to relieve the other of his mer-form, making it so he could continue with his day. The only reason that he let it wear off was because he wanted Yuujirou to see, and so they could play together. With that done, he didn't raise a fuss and took the potion without issue.

Besides, how would he be able to see how cute his Yuuji was in his clothes if he was still stuck in the water? That wouldn't be fun at all.

The hybrid had dried off his clothes as much as possible with the towel, now focusing on his hair and ears. He was gentle, with furrowed brows and a scrunched nose, trying his best to make sure there wouldn't be any water stuck in his ears before moving on to gingerly drying his tail.

"Okay, kitty, deal's a deal!" Floyd hummed, wrapping one arm around Yuujirou's shoulders, grinning happily when he heard the little grumbling chuff he gave at the nickname - anyone else would have been dead for the familiar term, and he knew it. "Wet clothes must feel reeeal nasty, huh? Lucky you, ya have me to let ya borrow some~!"

"You're the reason he has to change in the first place." Jade chided, keeping his twin from getting too overexcited, a familiar glint in his eyes as he observed the two of them. "If Floyd's clothes aren't to your taste, you can always borrow mine, Yuuji."

He took the other side of the panther, slithering his arm around his waist with a mischievous air, truly living up to his eel-mer origins.

Floyd tightened his grip slightly and leaned down to nudge his head against Yuujirou's neck, sending a pointed look Jade's way as he seemed to try and stake some sort of claim over him - not that the hybrid noticed, instead sighing and shaking his head.

"It's just something to wear back to Ramshackle, don't make such a big deal of it, you two." He hummed, a rumbling making it's way through his frame and calming the two eels clinging onto him.

"The Lounge is still open, isn't it?" He brought his gaze to Jade, regarding him attentively and smiling slightly when he noticed how he had been brought back to himself. "You should go back to help before the little octopus gets overwhelmed. You are his most competent worker, aren't you?"

It was almost funny how oblivious Yuujirou was, the full focus of Jade's intense gaze on him and he still didn't even realize how enamored the two eels were with him.

Of course, it brought back a new round of complaints from Floyd, whining and saying that he could be the best employee at Monstro Lounge if he wanted to, but that was silenced soon enough by reminding him of his wet clothes.

-

It wasn't long after when Yuujirou was situated in Floyd's room, studying the clothes he was given with a wrinkle to his expression. He hadn't expected them to be so... large.

Sure, it made sense, seeing how much of a height difference him and the eel had, but for some reason he hadn't even thought of it.

A long sigh drug it's way out of his lungs before he recollected himself, shrugging off his drenched clothes onto the towel from earlier so they wouldn't get wet, and getting into the eel's clothes that draped down and made him feel... unordinarily small.

The panther huffed a little, lightly rubbing his face against one of the sleeves to get rid of excess moisture from before, frown tugging down further when he realized just how much they smelled like Floyd.

Not to say that they smelled unpleasant, they actually smelled quite like the sea with something distinctly like the mer in question, but they weren't his.

Knocking on the door is the only thing that pulls him out of his thoughts, paired with Floyd's childish whining about him taking too long, and Yuujirou pushes his complaints away as he gathers the soaked clothes in his arms.

Safely protected by the towel covering them, he doesn't risk making Floyd's shirt anything more than damp, and he opens the door with lightly flattened ears - immediately getting bombarded by the eel.

"Yuujiiiii! You took so looong-" He cuts himself off when he sees the hybrid, giggling at the sight. "You look so tiny!"

He starts to form a response, but he's cut off by Floyd scooping him up in his arms, earning himself a short growl for the action. "I knew you were small, but I didn't know you were this itsy-bitsy! And now you smell just like me~!"

There's not even a chance to process that fully before the eel is running with him to the Monstro Lounge, still carrying him bridal style and excitedly showing off the growling disgruntled panther to everyone who so much as glanced at them, making a rather large commotion in a matter of moments.

Jade comes out, at some point, and upon seeing the duo just... walks over and shakes his head.

No words are spoken, but Floyd slowly puts down Yuujirou with a hopeful look in his eyes, remembering now that he probably... shouldn't have run full force into the Lounge and disturbed customers like that. Azul would likely be rather upset.

"But... look?" The hyperactive eel does some weird gesture, as if he's trying to show off Yuujirou, doing his best to convince Jade not to tell on him. "Small!"

It... seems to do something, though the panther can't say that he would describe it as anywhere near convincing.

"Yes, small." Jade sighs affectionately, taking a moment to regard Yuujirou before shaking his head and pulling his attention back to Floyd with a frown tugging at his lips. "Go escort him back to Ramshackle before his cubs come cause more of a fuss - I won't say anything unless Azul brings it up first.”

-

[click here to go to masterlist]

[vegaseatsass]

for the ask game!! 20, 21, 22

These are such good ones! Thank you, anon! 20. part of canon you found tedious or boring & 22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores I'm going to do these two together, because when I looked deep within for the answer to 20 (since at this point I am pretty sincerely engaged by every single little moment in KPTS ahaha), I realized that there were the parts of canon I found a bit tedious to get through in my first viewing, that I'm always overeager when I'm showing the series to someone new for them to get through so they get to what I think are the emotional hooks of the story and keep watching, but many of those parts are now the answer to 22? Like every part of Porsche defiantly sucking at his job in episode 2: hard/cringy to watch on the first viewing, but on second glance I'm so proud of him for resisting the situation he was put in every way he knew how. He can't quit, quietly or otherwise, but he CAN suck!! Lol. We see in the bar and the boxing ring that Porsche puts his all into his work and is amazing at it, so it's a bit heartwrenching to me, how being punished and shelved and told he's the worst of the lot is such effective conditioning to get him to start willingly working hard at this role he was coerced into. It's fun to watch bodyguard Porsche be all bamf and hypercompetent later, but it is a loss of agency and there is a tragedy in it, so yeah, I love the freedom and whimsy of episode 2 now and hold it so close to my heart. (I also savor the amount of Tankhun we get in episodes 2 & 3!) Similarly, I, like just about everyone else ever, found the Tawan episodes a bit draggy compared to how enthralled I was in episodes 4-8 and 11-13, but after poring over weird little guy Tawan in my head, and reading meta about him (how he was the woman in the tower and a picture of where Porsche could have ended up, and still might), I'm obsessed with both him and those episodes, and think fandom should talk about both 400% more than it does. I mean, EYE should talk about him 400% more than I do, whenever I forget about Tawan in a ship poll or whatever I give myself the stinkeye but yeah, there is so much to mine in those episodes (Vegas doesn't seduce with whips and chains he seduces with smol sad boy eyes and MARRIAGE PROPOSALS; Arm showing his love by helping you surveil your boyfriend who is his boss?), let's ignore them less, fandom!

To try to give an honest answer about what I find boring in canon now, I will say that I thrilled over all the late canon Kinn/Porsche domestic bliss on my first viewing, and I still love the tonal dissonance of how sweet and happy they seem before the narrative reveals that Porsche's being there is even more coerced than he thought, and Kinn knew that, and now here are 5 other fucked up reveals that they're both going to look away from so they can be together - but bread placement aside, a lot of those later scenes don't really tickle my brain on rewatch. I'm like: GO BACK TO THE FUCKY DRAMA ALREADY!! lol 21. part of canon you think is overhyped See I'm gonna suck at this meme because I don't think that anything is overhyped as in fans talk about something too much when it's not that great, but I will say the early Vegas/Pete interactions (magnum dong condom scene, temple scene) stir almost nothing in me shipwise. I love the stakeout scene for Pete flinging himself at Pol (and on my second viewing, for the realization that Pete is SO competent at so many things but not??? spying??? so why does Kinn keep sending him???), and I love the temple scene for Macau's eagerness to wingman for his brother @ prey animals (and in retrospect, it is fun that they have this "we'll make it through so many near-death experiences together" foreshadowing), but the actual Vegaspete of it all did nothing for me in those moments. It took a while for me to suspend my disbelief when reading fanfic and imagine that there was any chemistry between them before Pete was cackling in the throes of ball torture.

[kharti]

[ Closing Time #10 ]

      ( first | prev )

Izzy’s breath left him, all at once, as Ed slid into him. His body was so relaxed post-orgasm that there wasn’t any resistance, just an even glide until he was full, so full, so fucking deliciously full—

      ( Continue reading on AO3 or... )

Izzy’s breath left him, all at once, as Ed slid into him. His body was so relaxed post-orgasm that there wasn’t any resistance, just an even glide until he was full, so full, so fucking deliciously full—

“Proper prep always leads to a better meal,” Ed said, his voice strained as he tried to stay in character, running his tongue over his teeth. “No one likes tough meat.”

Stede huffed a shallow laugh, sweat visible on his brow as he watched with pupils blown wide. “I dare say not.”

“This meat is—” Ed struggled not to groan as he started to move his hips, pulling out nearly all the way and shoving back in. “Tender.”

“Warm?” Stede asked, his body swaying closer, his eyes fixed on the place where Ed and Izzy were joined.

“Fuckin’ hot.” Ed’s grip on Izzy’s hips tightened. “So fuckin’ hot inside.”

Izzy was rocked by each thrust, his skin sliding with a bit of friction along the tabletop, his fingers struggling to find purchase against the smooth surface as they tried to grab onto something, anything.

“Oh,” Stede breathed, his own hands clutching at the front of his pants. “May I—”

“Whatever the—customer wants.” Ed was pounding into him now, relentlessly. He moved a hand to the back of Izzy’s knee and lifted his leg up to give Stede a better view.

Stede, meanwhile, frantically unzipped his pants and had fished his cock out so quickly that he looked like a teenager, fumbling and trembling with too much arousal. He sighed with relief as he wrapped his fingers around himself and started to stroke, tight and quick little motions along the shaft and head.

Izzy had never felt so wonderfully helpless before, pinned under both their gazes, unable to do anything but moan and whimper with every thrust.

He'd also never felt so—loved.

This scene was one of worship, all of it put together by these two men to please him. To love him. And, he realized with a ripple of satisfaction, he was driving the both of them wild by just existing.

He wasn’t even trying to be sexy. He was just being fucked, just trying to keep up as Ed pounded into him, and Stede was about to cum with his belt still on.

His cock throbbed with the need to cum again, but he was too wrung out to even manage a dribble. He felt it bob against his stomach, bouncing with each thrust.

“Don’t cum yet,” Ed said, and it took Izzy a moment to realize he meant Stede. “I’m almost—fuck—I’ve almost got ‘im ready for you. Sir.”

Stede’s head snapped up. “You mean—”

Ed gave a wheezing little chuckle. “Just a moment—”

Izzy’s lungs couldn’t keep up. He was trying to gasp for air, but Ed kept fucking the breath out of him in pitchy whimpers and whines. His vision started to blur and his eyes watered, his chest ached with each heave.

And then Ed’s hips went flush to Izzy’s ass with one final push, throbbing deep inside him, filling him up.

“F—Fuck,” Ed groaned, his shoulders hunching forward as he curled in, trying to get closer with a little push of his hips. He shuddered, eyes closed, lips parted, his hands tight on Izzy as he squeezed tighter.

Then he straightened up and withdrew, Stede’s eyes following the movement while his own hand slowed.

“All ready for you, sir,” Ed said, voice hoarse, stepping to the side. His eyes flashed as he continued, “Please be sure to describe your experience… in detail.”

Izzy’s mouth went dry.

Oh, gods, he wasn’t going to survive this.

“Looks delectable,” Stede said, standing up and moving to place himself between Izzy’s legs. “I love what you’ve done with the center.”

Stede’s hand slipped between Izzy’s cheeks, his thumb prodding at his entrance, and Izzy could feel the wetness leaking out of him as Stede toyed with it.

“Is it a cream sauce?”

“Housemade,” Ed replied as he dropped down onto a seat, running a hand through his hair, pushing sweat-soaked strands out of his face.

Izzy watched with widening eyes as Stede brought the hand to his lips and licked his thumb.

“Delicious,” he said, his eyes locked with Izzy’s. “This whole meal is unspeakably delicious.”

A whine rose up in the back of Izzy’s throat, unbidden, forced out of him from the intensity of Stede’s stare.

Stede smiled and took himself in hand to line up with Izzy’s entrance, pushing inside with almost too much ease. The sensation of a large cock sliding into him, slick with Ed’s cum—it made Izzy actually whimper, his head falling back against the table.

“It’s so warm inside,” Stede said, his voice rough with desire as he started to pull back out, pulled all the way out and slammed inside again, skin slapping loudly against skin. “I feel like I could drown inside it. Not just from your seasoning, but from the way the meat hugs my cock.”

Izzy’s mouth fell open, but no sound came out. A shiver coursed through him as the warm words continued to rain down.

“It fits so perfectly, like it was made to be devoured.” All the way out again, back in with a hard thrust. “Oh, I’ve never had anything like it—absolutely divine. Absolutely divine.”

Stede leaned down and ran his tongue over the curve of Izzy’s chest, finding a nipple and swirling around before brushing his teeth over it. He panted a bit, his breath warm where his tongue left a wet trail on Izzy’s skin.

“I think—” Stede moved to the other nipple and opened his mouth wide to bite the meat of his chest, then laved the marks he made with soothing licks. “—this might be my new favorite dish.”

“Glad to hear it, sir,” Ed said, one arm slung over the back of his chair while he watched with dark, glittering eyes.

Stede continued to thrust in and out of him, each movement made slick from Ed’s cum, slicker still from what Stede’s cock leaked in all his excitement. Izzy groaned as he imagined how wet he was, how full of cock and cum he was. How utterly debauched he felt, and Stede hadn’t even finished yet.

“I want to have it again and again—” Stede’a breath puffed across Izzy’s skin as he tried to speak without panting, and failed. “How many times will you prepare it?”

Ed chuckled and stood, his strength recovered enough for him to move beside the table. He leaned over, palm pressed to the flat surface that rocked with Stede’s hurried thrusts, and hovered his lips right over Izzy’s. Close enough to feel the warmth of his skin, but not the touch of his lips.

“As often as you like,” he said, eyes locked on Izzy’s before he leaned in the rest of the way to swallow his cries with a hard kiss.

Izzy felt himself tighten as his cock tried to spend, but he had nothing to give. Maybe if he was a younger man, he’d be on his third or fourth orgasm now. But it was enough to push Stede over the edge, skin slapping to skin with one final thrust, and the man groaned low and deep as he came.

There was a quiet moment filled only with panting while Izzy trembled. He was worn out, wrung out, turned inside out. He had never felt so completely exhausted after sex before, like he had been running the whole time and not just lying there and taking it.

Ed continued to kiss him, softening with each swipe of his tongue against Izzy’s, and Stede slowly pulled out with an audible sound of wetness.

Then the two men stood together as they gazed at Izzy, and Izzy stared back at them through half-lidded eyes.

“Are you ready for dessert?” Ed asked, and Stede smiled.

Izzy’s heart thumped in his chest. He had nothing left to give, so what did they plan to take?

Both men took their seats, chair legs scraping against the floor as they scooted closer, and Izzy watched as two mouths descended on his uselessly hard cock.

He had to prop himself up on his elbows so he could watch, breath caught in his throat, while Ed and Stede all but made out with his cock between their lips and tongues.

Ed slid his lips along one side, down to the base, while Stede took the head in his mouth. They licked and sucked together, sometimes glancing up to meet Izzy’s gaze before returning their attention to finding ways to kiss without losing contact with Izzy’s cock.

It was, quite possibly, the most erotic thing Izzy had ever experienced.

He didn’t care that he couldn’t cum from this, or how sensitive his dick was after everything it had been through. It verged on painful when one of them sucked, but they were enjoying themselves almost as much as he was enjoying watching them.

Finally, Ed popped off with an audible, wet sound, and Stede licked a stripe from root to tip. For a moment, Izzy thought they were going to finally kiss unimpeded, but instead, they turned to look at him and smiled.

They descended on him, two gentle kisses to the corners of his mouth, and he realized the scene was over.

“I hope you enjoyed that,” Stede murmured into the soft kiss.

“Hope it wasn’t too much,” Ed said as he pulled back and looked into Izzy’s face with genuine adoration.

It took a moment for Izzy to find his voice after suppressing it for so long. The words came out quiet, but not soft—more like the crunch of autumn leaves under a boot.

“Focking twats.” His lips twitched into a brief smile at the momentary worry that crossed both their faces. “It was the best sex of my focking life.”

Stede let out a shaky breath, almost a laugh. “Oh, I’m so glad to hear that.”

Ed moved to slide an arm under Izzy’s back, the other under his knees, and lifted him up off the table to help him onto his feet, Stede taking up position on his other side to support him.

Izzy shuddered at the sensation of how much he was leaking, but before he could say anything, Stede had pulled a small packet of wet wipes out of his pocket and was already starting to wipe him down.

“Don’t worry, Iz,” Ed said, nosing his temple. “We’ll take care of ya.”

Izzy just stood there, a little shaky as he was gently cleaned and tenderly dressed. Every movement was accompanied by soft kisses all over—his knees, his hips, his shoulders, the small of his back, the curve of his neck.

It was like being put back together again, and he didn’t even realize he needed it until it was done, and he felt whole.

He glanced between both men who stood there, watching, waiting… and his heart swelled.

“Come here,” he muttered, opening his arms with a flush crawling up his neck as Stede and Ed moved in to wrap their arms around him and each other. “Fuck, I—”

There was a moment of vulnerability he allowed himself with his face out of sight, cheek muscles twitching as he fought against a smile and lost.

“Thank you,” he breathed out. “For taking care of me.”

For caring for me.

��M’place is just around the corner,” Ed said, pulling back enough to look at them, grinning. “How ‘bout a proper cuddle? Bed should be big enough for the three of us.”

“Sounds delightful!” Stede tittered a small giggle and tightened his grip on Izzy. “How about it, Izzy?”

A cuddle. Izzy had never considered himself much of a cuddler—more of a fuck and fuck off kind of guy.

But things were different now, with them. With Stede, and with Ed.

Because a cuddle sounded fucking amazing.

So Izzy draped his arms over their shoulders and let his head fall forward to hide yet another smile he couldn’t fight.

“Yeah, okay. Sure.” He glanced up to see them smiling back at him. “But you twats are helping me walk, because my legs are focking wrecked.”

Stede’s expression flickered with concern. “Did we go too far?”

“I already said it was perfect,” Izzy snapped without an ounce of bite in his voice.

“Actually, y’didn’t say that.” Ed grinned so wide it threatened to split his beard apart. “Perfect, huh?”

Stede smiled and reached up to intertwine his fingers with Izzy’s hand resting on his shoulder. “He deserves nothing less.”

As they leaned in to kiss his cheeks, Izzy felt his breath leave him for a moment.

No one could deserve this much, no one could be worthy of such loving worship.

And yet here he was, receiving it. Being drowned in it.

He couldn’t say the words, couldn’t imagine hearing them—not yet—but he felt them in his heart.

All he mumbled was a quiet, "Thank you."

Thank you for loving me.

📚 view a list of all my current stories!

[imjustagirl247]

The tranquility of the morning is shattered when Edward Cullen’s voice pierces the silence. I’m lying next to Alex, nestled in the soft, warm cocoon of his bed, when I hear a light tap on the window. The clock on the bedside table reads 3 AM. My heart skips a beat, both from the unexpected intrusion and from the fact that Alex is fast asleep beside me.

Quietly, I slip out of bed and tiptoe to the window. Edward’s familiar, slightly enigmatic face appears as he effortlessly climbs inside, his movements fluid and graceful.

“Edward?” I whisper, surprised and confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t wait any longer,” he replies softly, his eyes intense and compelling. “I had to show you something. It’s important.”

Before I can protest, he takes my hand, and in a flash, we’re outside, the cool night air rushing past us. We’re in a forest, surrounded by trees and moonlight. It feels like we’ve stepped into a fantasy world straight out of a storybook. Edward leads me through a magical landscape, full of glowing flowers and shimmering rivers, a realm that’s both wondrous and surreal.

“I wanted you to see this,” he says, guiding me to a breathtaking view of an enchanted valley. “It’s a place only a few know about. I thought you’d appreciate the beauty of it.”

I’m in awe, unable to speak as I take in the scene. The moonlight dances on the water, casting an ethereal glow over everything. The adventure, while impulsive and reckless, feels exhilarating.

As we explore, Edward’s presence becomes intoxicating. The connection between us grows stronger, and before I know it, we’re sharing a kiss. It’s electric and wrong, yet there’s an undeniable pull that I can’t resist. It’s a whirlwind of emotions, a clash between right and wrong that leaves me breathless and conflicted.

Edward picks me up effortlessly, his strength both surprising and impressive. He climbs a towering tree with ease, taking me to a hidden vantage point that overlooks the entire valley. “You’ve joined my world now,” he says with a mix of pride and longing. “I’m glad you’re here.”

I’m torn between my feelings for Edward and the life I’ve built with Alex. Edward’s passionate intensity is alluring, and I’m swept up in his world. But as I navigate this new dynamic, I realize that I’m not fully free from the life I left behind.

Suddenly, the mood shifts. Edward’s demeanor changes, his eyes darkening with frustration. “You can’t be with me, not if you’re still tied to him,” he says, his voice tinged with anger and pain.

In a moment of desperation and possessiveness, Edward bites me. The pain is sharp but quickly fades into a strange, exhilarating sensation. I’m overwhelmed, my senses heightened in a way I’ve never experienced before. Despite the fear, there’s a part of me that enjoys the thrill of it all.

When I wake, I’m back in Alex’s arms. The sun is just rising, and the warmth of his embrace feels comforting and safe. But Alex’s expression is a storm of fury. His eyes, usually warm and kind, are now a blazing, fierce shade of gold.

“You let him bite you?” Alex growls, his voice a mix of anger and hurt. “Do you have any idea what that means?”

I’m confused and frightened, not fully understanding the gravity of the situation. But before Alex can explain further, the door bursts open, revealing a group of werewolves. They’re imposing and intimidating, and their presence makes the air feel heavy with tension.

“Alex, what’s going on?” I ask, feeling overwhelmed by the sudden shift in my reality.

Alex’s eyes soften slightly as he looks at me. “I should have told you earlier,” he says, his voice strained. “I’m an alpha werewolf, and this is my pack. I wanted to protect you from this world, but now you’re caught in the middle.”

The pack members’ reactions are mixed. Most are wary or outright hostile, but there’s one girl—Luna—who looks at me with understanding and a hint of admiration.

“Hey,” she says softly, approaching me. “I know this is a lot to take in. I’m here if you need someone to talk to.”

Luna becomes a surprising ally, helping me navigate the complexities of Alex’s world. The pack is wary of me, but with Luna’s help, I start to fit in, slowly earning their trust.

One day, Edward shows up again, this time under less dramatic circumstances. He has a mischievous glint in his eye as he offers me a potion. “It’s a bit of fun,” he says, his tone light. “Just drink it, and let’s see where it takes us.”

I take a sip, feeling a slight tingle as the potion takes effect. The world around me seems to swirl, and I find myself laughing uncontrollably. The effect is harmless but leaves me feeling disoriented in a charming, playful way. Edward’s laughter is contagious, and despite the complications, I enjoy the lightheartedness of the moment.

Later, as the full moon rises, Alex transforms into his wolf form. I climb onto his back, the sensation of riding a powerful, majestic creature exhilarating. The night is alive with magic and energy, and I’m swept up in the thrill of it all.

Edward, who is very tall and strikingly attractive, watches from a distance. Despite the tension, I can’t deny the allure of his presence. The dynamic between us creates a complicated triangle of emotions and desires.

As the moonlight bathes us in its glow, Edward and I embark on another adventure. He takes me to a different dimension, a place where fantasy and reality blur. The new world is a dazzling mix of colors and wonders, and I’m entranced by the experience.

Throughout this journey, I’m faced with choices and dilemmas, torn between the safety and passion of my life with Alex and the excitement and allure of Edward. The love triangle grows more intense, with each day bringing new challenges and revelations.

Ultimately, the story of our lives becomes a complex tapestry of love, adventure, and self-discovery. Each moment is filled with the highs and lows of teenage romance, set against a backdrop of supernatural intrigue and fantasy. As I navigate this tangled web of emotions and relationships, I’m left to wonder where my heart truly belongs and how my story will unfold.

[bit-dodgy-innit]

Ballroom Blitz, Part Two

Read PART ONE 

Summary: Things. Are. Happening!! Moon Knight and Sigyn get some action in, both in the restrooms of Buckingham Palace and through fighting Loki. 

Basically, Sigyn brings the Moon Knight to a classy function at Buckingham Palace, and all hell breaks loose. A continuation of the SCARED TO BE LONELY verse! 

Rating: Explicit, Minors DNI! 

Pairing: Marc x Fem!OC, Steven x Fem!OC, Jake x Fem!OC, past Loki x Fem!OC, past Marc x Layla

Word Count: 4.7k 

TW/CW: Angst, oral sex (m receiving), a co-conscious blowjob, dirty talk, Steven loves boobies, face-fucking, cum-eating, violence, mentions of blood, also I don’t have DID so forgive me if I described a system sharing an intimate moment inaccurately! 

A/N: Okayyyy can we tell I hate trying to translate fight scenes from my mind onto the page given how long it’s taken me to finish this? 😅 Thanks for y’all’s patience, pumped for everyone to read and now we can get to 500 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION TIME!!! As usual, translations for Jake’s Spanish below!

The photos went by in blur, primarily because Sigyn was preoccupied with Jake’s impression of Marc, which consisted of him frowning the entire time and grunting in lieu of speaking whenever anyone addressed him. Thankfully, Thor and Valkyrie were none the wiser. 

Sigyn tried to apologize once they’d completed their official duties. “I am deeply sorry for what I said earlier.” 

“Yo sé,” Jake replied, “I get it.” 

 “Will Marc allow me to make amends?” 

“He knows you’re sorry.” Jake’s face was impassive. “He’s not ready yet to speak to you yet.”

She accepted his words with a nod. “Will Steven?”

His face softened and then Steven’s voice spoke “I appreciate you apologizing.” 

Breaking her own self-imposed rule, Sigyn pressed her lips against Steven’s tenderly. “Thank you. The remark came from an ugly, jealous part of me, a part that I'm not proud of. If you’d like to talk to her, I understand.” 

“Later,” he told the princess. “After everything that’s already happened tonight, I just want to enjoy the fact I’m in bloody Buckingham Palace at the moment.” 

“And I for one, am very happy you are.”  

They ambled back toward the ballroom, taking their time to explore the mostly empty halls of the royal residence, commenting on the different paintings and decor that adorned its towering walls. 

“You know, the palace began as a small residence for Queen Charlotte in the late eighteenth century,” Steven briefed the Asgardian as they strolled down a deserted corridor. Sigyn listened with a besotted grin. “It wasn’t until 1837 after a bunch of renovations that a monarch started living here full-time–”

The princess interrupted with a crushing kiss, one that soon escalated into Sigyn clutching at Steven’s lapels and pushing him against a wall.

“Blimey,” Steven panted when they broke apart. 

“Sorry…you dressed like this, it’s impossible to resist.” Sigyn yearned. 

“You’re one to talk,” Steven muttered, “you look like an old film star.” 

“I have no idea what that is, but I hope it’s a good thing.” 

Steven chuckled. “That’s right, I forgot you’re not familiar with…wuh-what are you doing?”

The Asgardian now tugged him away from the ballroom. Steven was flummoxed further when it seemed they were heading toward the loos.

“You go into a stall and I’ll meet you inside,” she instructed him when they reached the door to the men’s room. 

“Won’t they see you?” he asked, keeping his volume low. Sigyn shook her head and winked. 

Oh, she was going to magic herself inside, Steven realized. 

Obviously she wants to fuck, Jake piped in from the headspace, Tonto. 

“Right, okay,” the British alter stuttered, blindly searching for the door to the men’s room. “See you in a moment then.”

Sigyn bit her lip and nodded, watching Steven disappear fondly. Once he’d passed through the threshold, Sigyn tucked herself out of view into an alcove across from the restrooms and vanished. 

It took more concentration and drained Sigyn slightly more to channel her magic to sense exactly where Steven was in the restroom, but it was well-worth it when she materialized in the small, but roomy by most standards, enclosed stall he waited for her in. But it wasn’t Steven who met her. 

“Hola,” Jake rumbled into her ear as soon as she appeared and pulled Sigyn into his arms. 

She sighed. Leave it to Jake to butt in. “Is he okay with this?” 

“Si,” he confirmed, “we’re going to share.”

“For once,” Sigyn added under her breath. 

“Que?” Jake had heard her. 

“Nothing Papi,” The Asgardian deflected as she lowered herself to the ground. 

Jake was all too happy to let the jab go with Sigyn on her knees for him. “What do you have in mind, nena?” 

“Well, I think you look good enough to eat,” Sigyn lilted. She made short work of his fly, then separated the flaps of his pants. “So that’s exactly what I am going to do.” 

“Bloody hell,” Steven whispered. Sigyn had grown accustomed to her lovers switching while on a mission, but they’d never done it during sex. It sent a hot little shiver down the princess’s spine. “C-can I make a request?”

“Sure, darling,” the princess murmured in between her mouthing at Steven’s rapidly hardening cock through his briefs. 

“Will you, um…ohhh…you don’t have to get totally…ugh, that feels so good love, you don’t have to, but could you…” Steven struggled to get his words out since Sigyn had fished his length out of his boxers and was stroking him. He focused and made his ask in one breath. “Couldyouletmeseeyourtits?

Sigyn flicked her gaze to Steven’s eyes from his groin to send him an enticing grin then acquiesced, momentarily taking her hands off his dick to pull down the straps of her dress and expose herself. 

The sight of her naked breasts prompted Jake to push to the front. “Me encantan tus tetas, cariño.”

“Have you even let him get a glimpse?” Sigyn inquired, hesitating to resume her ministrations until she got an answer. 

“Oh yes, and they’re as gorgeous as ever,” Steven answered. 

Satisfied, Sigyn wrapped a hand around her lovers’ cock and leaned in. She began by giving the tip an open mouthed kiss, then swirling her tongue around the head which was now flushed a deep red and leaking precum. The princess relished the salty taste of him, continuing until she received a whimper from Steven before taking more of him into her mouth. 

A hand placed itself on the back of the Asgardian’s head to push her further down, but Sigyn slithered out of his grasp. She looked up at Jake, because it was obviously Jake, with burning eyes and a low warning, “If you muss up my hair there will be hell to pay.” 

“Can’t you fix it with magic?” he countered. 

“I could, but my magic is not an infinite resource,” she explained. “And until now, I had chosen to direct it so I can take your cock into my mouth, but if you’d rather–” 

“Bien, lo siento princesa,” Jake surrendered. “Más, por favor? Necesito tu boca.”

When her lover gazed down at her it was Steven again. “Don’t listen to him love, he’s being a git.” 

The princess sent him a smirk and picked up where she left off, clasping her hand around the base of his member once more and easing the rest into the warm, wet cavern of her mouth. Sigyn moaned around Steven, the vibrations on his cock delivering a shudder that he felt from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. 

She then began bobbing her head steadily, fellating his length with practied ease, leaving her lover to enjoy the sight of her plump lips around his dick and Sigyn’s naked tits on full display. 

Steven had been trying to keep his sounds to a minimum, though he was getting a blowjob from an Asgardian goddess in Buckingham Palace of all places, but Sigyn had began to twist her hand that was secure around the base of him while she licked long stripes around his dick. 

“AH!” he yelped. 

Jake took over, knowing he could keep them quiet and plus, he wanted to feel Sigyn’s mouth for himself. Though he and Steven were sharing their consciousness, sensations were dulled unless one was in the front, and the Asgardian choking on his cock never disappointed. 

“Mírate, tan bueno para mí, princesa,” Jake rasped, “Trabajando esa boca sobre mi polla dura.”

His naughty words elicited another moan from Sigyn. The return of the vibrations around his member prompted Jake to thrust into the princess’s mouth. He stopped himself, looking down to Sigyn, his question Can I? clear in dark, lust-filled eyes. She nodded, her mouth still full of dick, giving Jake the permission he needed to fuck her there. 

He didn’t waste a second, pistoning his hips into the warm suction with an athletic fluidity. The urge to touch herself was becoming harder to deny for Sigyn, but getting her hand up her long skirt or making the satin disappear altogether was proving to be too much effort as Jake drove himself between her lips. 

Instead, the Asgardian rubbed her thighs together for some relief and fondled her own breasts. Knowing that the sight of her thumbing and pinching her own nipples would also drive Steven absolutely mad convinced Sigyn to do it. 

“Fuuuuuuuck,” came the drawn-out groan from Steven. “You’re a revelation, love, so beautiful and sexy.” 

Jake forced a quick switch so he could goad her further, “Sí, juega con esas tetas para mí. Vas a hacer que nos corramos.” 

Sigyn moved her hands at the mention of them coming, she took one of her lovers’ thick ass cheeks in her hands and pushed their cock in deeper. The Asgardian controlled the pace and depth of their thrusts, before holding them in place so their dick was halfway down her throat, and swallowed around the thick appendage. 

Steven, well at least the princess thought it was Steven, orgasmed with an unabashed shout. His hot cum spurted straight down Sigyn’s throat, and as hard as she tried, she couldn’t swallow without coughing a little. 

Next thing she knew, a pair of large, gentle hands were helping her to her feet. Sigyn only needed to look into those eyes for a second to know who it was. He brought his lips to hers, pouring all of his satisfaction and gratitude into the kiss they shared. 

When at last they broke apart, Steven dotted more presses of his lips down the column of her neck, making sure to scatter kisses all over the tops of Sigyn’s tits while he held them in his hands. “What do you need, love?” 

“I’m alright for now,” she assured him. 

Steven pulled away to look at his lover and make sure he was hearing correctly. She chuckled softly at his expression then continued in a whisper. “We should be getting back. You can make it up to me later, however. I want your mouth on me.” 

Despite just having come, Steven’s cock tried to harden once again. He drew Sigyn toward him and rumbled, “Your wish is my command.” 

“I’ll see you back in the ballroom,” she told him. The pair exchanged one last parting kiss before the Asgardian’s form dissolved into a cloud of golden dust. 

Jake shattered his alter’s post-climax bliss when he chimed in, We should put our cock away, don’t you think, hombre? 

***

Sigyn materialized in a stall in the women’s restrooms. After the beat she required to catch her breath and readjust her gown, she discreetly exited the small cubicle, banking on the assumption that everyone would be too drunk or self-involved to realize they hadn’t seen her enter. 

The princess strolled to the large mirrors adorning the marble walls of the bathroom. While she checked to make sure her lipstick wasn’t too smudged or her updo ruined, Layla emerged from one of the stalls. Sigyn froze as the Midgardian joined her at the sinks, unsure of how to proceed. It seemed rude to leave without acknowledging her, but the Asgardian hadn't the faintest idea of what to say. 

“Oh. I didn’t realize you were in here,” Layla remarked while she washed her hands. 

“I slipped in a moment ago,” she replied, providing her with an explanation that wasn’t altogether untrue. Sigyn wracked her brain while Layla primped a bit in the mirror. She was truly a beautiful woman. It would have been one thing if Marc had married some homely childhood sweetheart, but Layla was exquisite. She could easily pass for a goddess herself, which was why the princess had been, and still was, so envious of Marc’s ex-wife. 

Sigyn tried to suppress her inner green-eyed monster. At the very least, she owed it to Marc to make an effort to be civil. So, the princess defaulted to what on Asgard was always a safe topic with her femme peers. “I don’t believe I said it earlier, but I love your ensemble. It suits you perfectly. 

“Thank you,” said Layla in return. 

When she didn’t say anything more or return the compliment, Sigyn decided to cut her losses and leave. She needed to touch base with Thor and Valkyrie anyway. 

“You know, I never thought he’d go for a blonde.”

 Layla’s voice stopped the Asgardian in her tracks. 

“Well, if there’s anything I’ve learned about Marc, it’s that he’s full of surprises.” Sigyn effaced. 

“Has he told you anything about me? About us?” Sigyn recognized Layla's tone. It caused a pit of sadness to twist her stomach. The woman was obviously still in love with Marc, and he made it clear earlier that he wasn’t completely over her either. 

Where did that leave Sigyn? She didn’t think she loved Loki anymore, her one condition for going back to him being if the fate of the multiverse and innocent lives were at stake. The Asgardian couldn’t help but feel like she was playing a losing game with Marc, but decided to treat Layla as she’d hoped the Egyptian would treat her if their roles were reversed, since it seemed like they could be at any moment. 

“Who, Marc?” Sigyn clarified as she turned around. “Barely a word. Just that you were married. Steven however, has shared a little.” 

“So you’ve met them both,” she noted. Her face was impossible to read. 

Sigyn nodded, clocking her referral to the system as “both”. She didn’t correct Layla, it wasn’t her place to inform her about Jake. “Layla, for what it’s worth, you’re irreplaceable to him.” 

“Please don’t patronize me.” The hurt in her eyes made Sigyn’s heart ache. She knew it too well.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” the princess professed. “It's the truth. And I respect that.” 

“Well that’s a relief, I guess.” The bitterness in her tone betrayed that she wasn’t relieved in the slightest. “After all, I can’t compete with a goddess.”

“You sell yourself short,” Sigyn disagreed, “not to mention you’re not being entirely forthright. I can sense the divinity within you. You’re still in the service of Taweret, then?”

“Only when she needs me,” Layla explained. “Not like they are.”

“I should hope not. Khonshu is a menace.” 

“You’ve met him too.” 

“Once,” she neglected to include any more details. “I cannot say I’m fond of him.” 

“What are you two doing?” Layla opted for directness, tired of the thinly veiled niceties. “Marc isn’t a kept man, so I know it’s something more. More than sleeping together, that is. ” 

Sigyn chose to ignore the perfectly aimed barb Layla pitched at her. “He’s helping me find Loki.”

“And what qualifies you to do that?”

“I’m his estranged wife.”

The revelation silenced Layla. Until she remembered a moment later, “But he’s dead.” 

“In this universe, yes,” the Asgardian concurred, “but in mine, he’s very much alive, and is currently aiding in the effort to rid the multiverse of every god.” 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Layla objected. “He’s a god himself.” 

“The god of mischief and chaos, infamous for betraying even his closest allies,” Sigyn continued, “Loki and Gorr are playing each other, both confident they’ll be the one to double-cross the other first. If it is indeed Loki who does, he’ll be the only deity left, and he’ll be considered all-powerful. I need to stop him before that happens, seeing as they’ve already left a trail of destruction in their wake.” 

Layla processed the information as quickly as she could. “And why does Gorr want all gods to die?”

“He was scorned by one, we’ve gathered,” the princess answered. “He lost a loved one, found the Necrosword – a blade that can kill a god – and has been seeking his retribution since.” 

“I need to warn Taweret,” she concluded. 

“We were hoping not to rouse widespread fear and panic just yet, but I won’t stop you from telling her.” 

Layla had more questions. “Does Khonshu know?”

“Yes.” 

“I’m sure he hates that you’re working with them,” Layla presumed with a bitter laugh. 

“Why would you think that?”

“Because he hated me. He hated anything that distracted his avatar from his almighty bidding,” Layla explained, a mocking tone dripping from the last two words of her answer. Then the mortal woman changed course, “Is that why your party insisted on speaking to the Wakandans alone? “

Before Sigyn could confirm, a loud crash reverberated from of the bathroom, followed by a chorus of distressed cries. 

The two women shared a concerned, knowing look with each other, then raced out of the loo. Their forms shimmered, their respective armors enveloping them, as Sigyn and Layla sprinted back to the ballroom. 

Layla took flight and the most Sigyn could make out when she returned was a fallen chandelier and a scattering crowd before a pair of hands grasped her shoulders. 

“You’re both here,” the suit her lover wore identified him as Marc. His hood evaporated to reveal his face. “And you’re ok, thank God.” 

Green bolts of light flew past Sigyn and Marc, but the princess had more urgent concerns. “How angry are you at me?”

“There’s more happening right now than us,” Marc chose to focus on the matter at hand. 

“Oh please,” Sigyn scoffed, appearing nonplussed at the chaos unfolding around her.  “These are just his usual theatrics.”

“His usual theatrics?” Marc repeated incredulously. “Sigyn, you’ve got to make him stop.” 

The goddess agreed. So, she stomped her foot and yelled at the top of her lungs “LOKI!!! STOP!!!!”

It was a simple move, but an effective one. Loki's onslaught ceased and the estranged couple zeroed in on one another across the ballroom.

Loki towered at the top of the staircase. He looked worse for wear, the bags so deep under his wild, icy eyes they could pass as bruises, his long hair disheveled. There seemed to be no color left in his face, the entirety of his complexion a wan, pallid hue. Sigyn couldn’t stop the wifely pang of concern that bubbled up at the sight of him. 

“Ah. There you are,” he remarked with utmost nonchalance. Loki began his descent down the grand staircase with the grace of a large cat. He may have looked like shit, but the god appeared to retain his smooth gait and carriage.  

Sigyn had to keep him talking to give Layla, Valkyrie and the Wakandans time to usher everyone away from the wreckage. Marc and Thor stood sentinel behind Sigyn on either side of her. She threw her arms wide and responded “Indeed, here I am. And I was having an excellent time until you arrived.” 

“Now pet, is that any way to greet your husband?” He inquired as he crossed the ballroom. Ugh, he knew she hated when he called her “pet”. 

Loki caught sight of Marc and his features pulled into a scowl. “Pity. If you’d kept your legs shut, I would’ve made you my queen.”

“Now that’s one of your bolder fictions,” Sigyn parried as if critiquing him. She had to keep him talking. “Your jealousy is as plain as the nose on your face.”

“Gods do not get jealous.”

“That may be true, but sad little boys from Asgard certainly do.” 

“And what of sad little girls, hm?” Loki shot back. “Did my departure upset you so that you sought comfort in that broken excuse for a Midgardian?”

Sigyn extinguished the flame of anger the insult ignited before it could consume her. Instead, she blew an unprincess-like raspberry with her lips. “Ha! Because you’re the picture of soundness of mind.”

“You two were ridiculously easy to evade, you know. It was quite pathetic, really.” 

Marc lurched, making an imperceptible start forward, he wanted to deal with the mad Asgardian himself but Khonshu weighed in, That would not be a wise move, Marc Spector. This is a matter between two spouses currently. 

He wasn’t particularly interested in what they had to say, especially after Khonshu’s marionette act and untoward advance toward Sigyn earlier. So Marc glanced to his side to confer with Thor. It was when the god of thunder gave him a little shake of the head -- non-verbally telling him to stand down– did Marc stay put. 

“Then why did you come?” Sigyn demanded. 

“Convenience,” he answered simply. “I figured I could raze the Egyptian pantheon as well as the man who dared defile my wife.” 

“I am no longer your wife. You left me, without so much as a goodbye or an explanation to wreak untold havoc on innocents. Our ill-conceived union, for all intents and purposes, is over.”

“Did you ever consider that my actions were to protect you? Us? Asgard?”

Sigyn looked him straight in the eye and answered truthfully. “No. Because your selfishness knows no bounds.”

“You truly want me to tear your little toy limb from limb, don’t you?” He asked. His gaze flicked to where Marc stood, resembling a caged animal waiting to pounce. 

“You’ll have to go through me first,” she challenged him. 

Loki balked at her threat. “You?! I’m the one who taught you magic and how to fight for Valhalla’s sake!” 

“Theoric and my brothers taught me to fight,” she corrected him, refusing to cower when he arrived where she stood, “and your mother taught me the magic you refused to when you feared it would make me too powerful.”  

“Lies,” he spat at her. Bringing Frigga in was a low blow, but it was the truth. 

Now that the ballroom was cleared, it was time for Sigyn to pivot. She’d distracted him, now she needed to make Loki so angry he’d attack without a strategy. Mentioning her mother-in-law was the most effective topic, though it pained the princess to do so. She adored Frigga. 

“You know I’m not lying,” Sigyn continued in a low, measured voice. “How does it feel darling, to know that deep down she didn’t trust you? That you realized her worst fears and utterly devastated her when you joined Gorr’s cause? And you believe you weren’t given the throne because we haven’t had a child yet? It’s absolutely mad–”

She wasn’t able to finish her rebuke, Loki lunged at her. Sigyn knew to expect it, but the flash of movement sprung Thor and Marc into action all the same. Layla, Valkyrie and the Wakandans were hot on their heels. 

He may have only been one man, but Loki was a formidable opponent. Beyond his skill in hand-to-hand combat, he was the most advanced sorcerer Asgard had seen in a millennia. The god duplicated himself several times over to confuse his adversaries. Even though Sigyn knew this move of his well, it angered her when she’d go to strike Loki, only for his form to shimmer away. 

To make matters worse, his daggers were now tipped with the black tar of the Necrosword which meant that the coalition had not only a mad god to deal with, but a hoard of dark, shifting nightmarish creatures. Marc was impressed with Sigyn’s prowess as a warrior, however. She was more than able to hold her own in a fight, slicing through the copies of Loki and shadow-monsters with her signature grace and agility. 

Speaking of grace and agility, Marc was shaken from his observation of the pandemonium around him when Layla zoomed past him. He snapped back to the scrum and found himself face-to-face with Loki, the blow the god landed across his cheek confirming it was him and not an illusion. 

“You,” Loki fumed. 

The Midgardian knew he could take him, but Loki’s anger had unhinged him. He rained his fury down on Marc, and despite the suit and his aptitude in a fight, Loki prostrated him in a headlock and with a blade to his throat. 

“Death at my hand is more than you deserve,” the god snarled into Marc’s ear. He could feel Jake trying to push to the front, but Marc held him at bay for the time being. This was personal between him and Loki. “I’m going to make you regret the day your bitch mother whelped you into this dismal world of yours.”

Layla caught sight of what was happening, and raced toward the pair without hesitation. Loki responded by conjuring more creatures to impede her and pressed his blade closer to Marc’s throat. “Layla is ravishing though, and what fire. What they see in you I can’t fathom.”

If Marc couldn’t speak, he would’ve joked that he agreed. Or since Loki was being particularly dickish, suggest that the reason they preferred him was because he was a better lay. 

But no comeback was made, and the god resumed his threat while he watched Layla take down the shadows, “I’ll spare her, I think, make her a concubine. That’s only fair, hmm? Eye for an eye? Wife for a wife?” 

Threatening Layla unleashed Jake. He escaped out of Loki’s hold and began to pummel the god, the Midgardian’s anger now matching Loki’s. Layla joined to try and restrain him, hopefully putting an end to the chaos, but the two were interrupted by a screech that reverberated throughout the ballroom, “STOP!!” 

Sigyn had said it. Marc pushed to the front once more, and halted along with Layla. What was this, a moment of mercy? Were the centuries she’d been married to Loki getting the best of her?

“He’s mine,” she asserted lowly. 

Alright then, Steven chimed in. We’re not feeling so merciful after all. 

Sigyn stalked across the ballroom with her sword, a deceptively cloying smile on her lips. 

“The Midgardians have a phrase,” She began, breezing past Marc and Layla to where Loki stood, bloodied and brooding. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” The princess fixed her estranged husband with a wicked smirk. “I’m rather fond of it.” 

The Asgardian rained down her fury on her husband after that. Her limbs were a blur of movement and magic as she attacked Loki. The god parried and defended himself as best he could, but Marc suspected he was pulling his punches. After everything he’d done to her, Loki couldn’t bring himself to defeat Sigyn.

“How could you?!” The princess’s beating continued. “I stayed with you after you tricked me into marrying you, and this is what I get?! I can never go home now, you realize that? YOU’VE MADE ME THE LAUGHINGSTOCK OF ASGARD!” 

“Seeg-” Loki tried to respond but his wife punched him square in the jaw. 

“We were happy, weren’t we?” Sigyn’s hits were getting sloppy as her emotion overwhelmed her. “Weren’t we? Why wasn’t that enough for you?”

Tears blurred Sigyn’s vision, causing her to miss her target when she went to kick Loki. She’d flattened her husband out on the polished stone floor. Marc wanted to go to her, but Layla caught his wrist, cautioning him with her eyes about entering her space. 

It was Thor who approached her, he inched toward her slowly, as if walking across eggshells or to a skittish animal. Sigyn collapsed into his broad chest, sobs wracking her heaving form. In the meantime, the Wakandans swooped in and restrained Loki with enhanced handcuffs of Shuri’s design. 

“Sigyn,” Loki wheezed. She peeked out from her brother’s pecs. Once he knew he had her attention, the god gasped out, “I’m sorry.” 

As soon as he apologized however, Loki disappeared. The entire team lunged to try and stop him, but no one was fast enough. 

“Fuck!” Marc swore. 

“He shouldn’t have been able to do that,” Shuri was reeling at the failure of her tech. “We tested it and everything! Why on Earth–”

“That’s just it,” Sigyn interrupted her. “He’s not of earth, or this universe. Besides, you tested the cuffs on me, and I don’t have the same scope of power that he does.”

“There’s also the influence of the blade to consider,” Valkyrie added. 

“Are there any injuries?” Sigyn asked Nakia. 

“A few minor ones,” she replied. “Nothing serious.” 

“Good. Then perhaps all this wreckage wasn’t for naught.” 

Layla couldn’t hold in her scoff of disbelief, “How do you figure?”

The princess looked down at her bloodied knuckles. She inhaled deeply to concentrate, holding one hand forward and waving its twin over the skin where her and Loki’s blood co-mingled. A golden screen of intricate swirls of dust bloomed from Sigyn’s efforts and a bead of sweat trickled down from her forehead. Clearly, this magic took much exertion on her part, especially after this evening’s events. 

Bloody hell, marveled Steven. Marc couldn’t help but agree. He examined the cloud that’d appeared above Sigyn’s hand, only needing ten or seconds to recognize that it was a map. 

“Because now we can follow him.” 

A/N: yay! we made it! Man this part of the fic has been giving me trouble for ages!! Hope everyone enjoyed! 

Taglist: @twwcs​, @starfirette​ @woofgocows​ 

Translations: 

Yo sé - I know 

Tonto - Fool/stupid 

Hola - Hello

Si - Yes 

Què - what

Nena - babe 

Me encantan tus tetas, cariño - I love your tits, honey 

Bien, lo siento princesa - Okay, I’m sorry princess 

Más, por favor? Necesito tu boca. - More please? I need your mouth. 

Mírate, tan bueno para mí, princesa - look at you, so good for me, princess 

Trabajando esa boca sobre mi polla dura - Working that mouth over my hard cock 

Sí, juega con esas tetas para mí. Vas a hacer que nos corramos - Yes, play with those tits for me. You’re going to make us come. 

[testudoaubrei-blog]

Content note for discussions of eternal damnation, and all sorts of other shit that will trigger a lot of folks with religious trauma.

Before I get started I might as well explain where I’m coming from - unlike a lot of She-Ra fans, and a lot of queer people, I don’t have much religious trauma, or any, maybe (okay there were a number of years I was convinced I was going to hell, but that happens to everyone, right?). I was raised a liberal Christian by liberal Christian parents in the Episcopal Church, where most of my memories are overwhelmingly positive. Fuck, growing up in the 90’s, Chuch was probably the only place outside my home I didn’t have homophobia spewed at me. Because it was the 90’s and it was a fucking hellscape of bigotry where 5 year olds knew enough to taunt each other with homophobic slurs and the adults didn’t know enough to realize how fucked up that was. Anyway. This is my experience, but it is an atypical one, and I know it. Quite frankly I know that my experience of Christianity has very little at all to do with what most people experienced, or what people generally mean when they talk about Christianity as a cultural force in America today. So if you were raised Christian and you don’t recognize your theology here, congrats, neither do I, but these ideas and cultural forces are huge and powerful and dominant. And it’s this dominant Christian narrative that I’m referring to in this post. As well as, you know, a children’s cartoon about lesbian rainbow princesses. So here it goes. This is going to get batshit.

"All events whatsoever are governed by the secret counsel of God." - John Calvin

“We’re all just a bunch of wooly guys” - Noelle Stevenson

This is a post triggered by a single scene, and a single line. It’s one of the most fucked-up scenes in She-Ra, toward the end of Save the Cat. Catra, turned into a puppet by Prime, struggles with her chip, desperately trying to gain control of herself, so lost and scared and vulnerable that she flings aside her own death wish and her pride and tearfully begs Adora to rescue her. Adora reaches out , about to grab her, and then Prime takes control back, pronounces ‘disappointing’ and activates the kill switch that pitches Catra off the platform and to her death (and seriously, she dies here, guys - also Adora breaks both her legs in the fall). But before he does, he dismisses Catra with one of his most chilling lines. “Some creatures are meant only for destruction.”

And that’s when everyone watching probably had their heart broken a little bit, but some of the viewers raised in or around Christianity watching the same scene probably whispered ‘holy shit’ to themselves. Because Prime’s line - which works as a chilling and callous dismissal of Catra - is also an allusion to a passage from the Bible. In fact, it’s from one of the most fucked up passages in a book with more than its share of fucked up passages. It’s from Romans 9:22, and I’m going to quote several previous verses to give the context of the passage (if not the entire Epistle, which is more about who needs to abide by Jewish dietary restrictions but was used to construct a systematic theology in the centuries afterwards because people decided it was Eternal Truth).

19 Thou wilt say then unto me, Why doth he yet find fault? For who hath resisted his will?

20 Nay but, O man, who art thou that repliest against God? Shall the thing formed say to him that formed it, Why hast thou made me thus?

21 Hath not the potter power over the clay, of the same lump to make one vessel unto honour, and another unto dishonour?

22 What if God, willing to shew his wrath, and to make his power known, endured with much longsuffering the vessels of wrath fitted to destruction:

The context of the allusion supports the context in the show. Prime is dismissing Catra - serial betrayer, liar, failed conqueror, former bloody-handed warlord - as worthless, as having always been worthless and fit only to be destroyed. He is speaking from a divine and authoritative perspective (because he really does think he’s God, more of this in my TL/DR Horde Prime thing). Prime is echoing not only his own haughty dismissal of Catra, and Shadow Weaver’s view of her, but also perhaps the viewer’s harshest assessment of her, and her own worst fears about herself. Catra was bad from the start, doomed to destroy and to be destroyed. A malformed pot, cracked in firing, destined to be shattered against a wall and have her shards classified by some future archaeologist 2,000 years later. And all that’s bad enough.

But the full historical and theological context of this passage shows the real depth of Noelle Stevenson’s passion and thought and care when writing this show. Noelle was raised in Evangelical or Fundamentalist Christianity. To my knowledge, he has never specified what sect or denomination, but in interviews and her memoir Noelle has shown a particular concern for questions that this passage raises, and a particular loathing for the strains of Protestant theology that take this passage and run with it - that is to say, Calvinism. So while I’m not sure if Noelle was raised as a conservative, Calvinist Presbyterian, his preoccupation with these questions mean that it’s time to talk about Calvinism.

It would be unfair, perhaps, to say that Calvinism is a systematic theology built entirely upon the Epistles of Romans and Galatians, but only -just- (and here my Catholic readers in particular will chuckle to themselves and lovingly stroke their favorite passage of the Epistle of James). The core of Calvinist Doctrine is often expressed by the very Dutch acronym TULIP:

Total Depravity - people are wholly evil, and incapable of good action or even willing good thoughts or deeds

Unconditional Election - God chooses some people to save because ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, not because they did anything to deserve, trigger or accept it

Limited Atonement - Jesus died only to save the people God chose to save, not the rest of us bastards

Irresistible Grace - God chooses some people to be saved - if you didn’t want to be saved, too bad, God said so.

Perseverance of the Saints - People often forget this one and assume it’s ‘predestination’ but it’s actually this - basically, once saved by God, always saved, and if it looks like someone falls out of grace, they were never saved to begin with. Well that’s all sealed up tight I guess.

Reading through these, predestination isn’t a single doctrine in Calvinism but the entire theological underpinnings of it together with humanity’s utter powerlessness before sin. Basically God has all agency, humanity has none. Calvinism (and a lot of early modern Protestantism) is obsessed with questions of how God saves people (grace alone, AKA Sola Fides) and who God saves (the people god elects and only the people God elects, and fuck everyone else).

It’s apparent that Noelle was really taken by these questions, and repelled by the answers he heard. He’s alluded to having a tattoo refuting the Gospel passage about Sheep and Goats being sorted at the end times, affirming instead that ‘we’re all just a bunch of wooly guys’ (you can see this goat tattoo in some of his self-portraits in comics, etc). He’s also mentioned that rejecting and subverting destiny is a huge part of everything he writes as a particular rejection of the idea that some individual people are 'chosen' by God or that God has a plan for any of us. You can see that -so clearly- in Adora’s arc, where Adora embraces and then rejects destiny time and again and finally learns to live life for herself.

But for Catra, we’re much more concerned about the most negative aspect of this - the idea that some people are vessels meant for destruction. And that’s something else that Noelle is preoccupied with. In her memoir in the section about leaving the church and becoming a humanistic atheist, there is a drawing of a pot and the question ‘Am I a vessel prepared for destruction?’ Obviously this was on Noelle’s mind (And this is before he came out to himself as queer!).

To look at how this question plays out in Catra’s entire arc, let’s first talk about how ideas of damnation and salvation actually play out in society. And for that I’m going to plug one of my favorite books, Gin Lun’s Damned Nation: Hell in America from the Revolution to Reconstruction (if you can tell by now, I am a fucking blast at parties). Lun tells the long and very interesting story about, how ideas of hell and who went there changed during the Early American Republic. One of the interesting developments that she talks about is how while at first people who were repelled by Calvinism started moving toward a doctrine of universal salvation (no on goes to hell, at least not forever*), eventually they decided that hell was fine as long as only the right kind of people went there. Mostly The Other - non-Christian foreigners, Catholics, Atheists, people who were sinners in ways that were not just bad but weird and violated Victorian ideas of respectability. Really, Hell became a way of othering people, and arguably that’s how it survives today, especially as a way to other queer people (but expanding this is slated for my Montero rant). Now while a lot of people were consciously rejecting Calvinist predestination, they were still drawing the distinction between the Elect (good, saved, worthwhile) and the everyone else (bad, damned, worthless). I would argue that secularized ideas of this survive to this day even among non-Christian spaces in our society - we like to draw lines between those who Elect, and those who aren’t.

And that’s what brings us back to Catra. Because Catra’s entire arc is a refutation of the idea that some people are worthless and irredeemable, either by nature, nurture or their own actions. Catra’s actions strain the conventions of who is sympathetic in a Kid’s cartoon - I’ve half joked that she’s Walter White as a cat girl, and it’s only half a joke. She’s cruel, self-deluded, she spends 4 seasons refusing to take responsibility for anything she does and until Season 5 she just about always chooses the thing that does the most damage to herself and others. As I mentioned in my Catra rant, the show goes out of its way to demonstrate that Catra is morally culpable in every step of her descent into evil (except maybe her break with reality just before she pulls the lever). The way that Catra personally betrays everyone around her, the way she strips herself of all of her better qualities and most of what makes her human, hell even her costume changes would signal in any other show that she’s irredeemable.

It’s tempting to see this as Noelle’s version of being edgy - pushing the boundaries of what a sympathetic character is, throwing out antiheroics in favor of just making the villain a protagonist. Noelle isn’t quite Alex ‘I am in the business of traumatizing children’ Hirsch, who seems to have viewed his job as pushing the bounds of what you could show on the Disney Channel (I saw Gravity Falls as an adult and a bunch of that shit lives rent free in my nightmares forever), but Noelle has his own dark side, mostly thematically. The show’s willingness to deal with abuse, and messed up religious themes, and volatile, passionate, not particularly healthy relationships feels pretty daring. I’m not joking when I gleefully recommend this show to friends as ‘a couple from a Mountain Goats Song fights for four seasons in a cartoon intended for 9 year olds’. Noelle is in his own way pushing the boundaries of what a kids show can do. If you read Noelle’s other works like Nimona, you see an argument for Noelle being at least a bit edgy. Nimona is also angry, gleefully destructive, violent and spiteful - not unlike Catra. Given that it was a 2010s webcomic and not a kids show, Nimona is a good deal worse than Catra in some ways - Catra doesn’t kill people on screen, while Nimona laughs about it (that was just like, a webcomic thing - one of the fan favorite characters in my personal favorite, Narbonic, was a fucking sociopath, and the heroes were all amoral mad scientists, except for the superintelligent gerbil**). But unlike Nimona, whose fate is left open ended, Catra is redeemed.

And that is weird. We’ve had redemption arcs, but generally not of characters with -so- much vile stuff in their history. Going back to the comparison between her and Azula, many other shows, like Avatar, would have made Catra a semi-sympathetic villain who has a sob-story in their origin but who is beyond redemption, and in so doing would articulate a kind of psychologized Calvinism where some people are too traumatized to ever be fully and truly human. I’d argue this is the problem with Azula as a character - she’s a fun villain, but she doesn’t have moral agency, and the ultimate message of her arc - that she’s a broken person destined only to hurt people - is actually pretty fucked up. And that’s the origin story of so many serial killers and psycopaths that populate so many TV shows and movies. Beyond ‘hurt people hurt people’ they have nothing to teach us except perhaps that trauma makes you a monster and that the only possible response to people doing bad things is to cut them out of your life and out of our society (and that’s why we have prisons, right?)

And so Catra’s redemption and the depths from which she claws herself back goes back to Noelle’s desire to prove that no person is a vessel ‘fitted for destruction.’ Catra goes about as far down the path of evil as we’ve ever seen a protagonist in a kids show go, and she still has the capacity for good. Importantly, she is not subject to total depravity - she is capable of a good act, if only one at first. Catra is the one who begins her own redemption (unlike in Calvinism, where grace is unearned and even unwelcomed) - because she wants something better than what she has, even if its too late, because she realizes that she never wanted any of this anyway, because she wants to do one good thing once in her life even if it kills her.

The very extremity of Catra’s descent into villainy serves to underline the point that Noelle is trying to make - that no one can be written off completely, that everyone is capable of change, and that no human being is garbage, no matter how twisted they’ve become. Meanwhile her ability to set her own redemption in motion is a powerful statement of human agency, and healing, and a refutation of Calvinism’s idea that we are powerless before sin or pop cultural tropes about us being powerful before the traumas of our upbringing. Catra’s arc, then, is a kind of anti-Calvinist theological statement - about the nature of people and the nature of goodness.

Now, there is a darker side to this that Noelle has only hinted at, but which is suggested by other characters on the show. Because while Catra’s redemption shows that people are capable of change, even when they’ve done horrible things, been fucked up and fucked themselves up, it also illustrates the things people do to themselves that make change hard. As I mentioned in my Catra rant, two of the most sinister parts of her descent into villainy are her self-dehumanization (crushing her own compassion and desire to do good) and her rewriting of her own history in her speech and memory to make her own actions seem justified (which we see with her insistence that Adora left her, eliding Adora’s offers to have Catra join her, or her even more clearly false insistence that Entrapta had betrayed them). In Catra, these processes keep her going down the path of evil, and allow her to nearly destroy herself and everyone else. But we can see the same processes at work in two much darker figures - Shadow Weaver and Horde Prime. These are both rants for another day, but the completeness of Shadow Weaver’s narcissistic self-justification and cultivated callousness and the even more complete narcissism of Prime’s god complex cut both characters off from everyone around them. Perhaps, in a theoretical sense, they are still redeemable, but for narrative purposes they might as well be damned.

This willingness to show a case where someone -isn’t- redeemed actually serves to make Catra’s redemption more believable, especially since Noelle and the writers draw the distinction between how Catra and SW/Prime can relate to reality and other people, not how broken they are by their trauma (unlike Zuko and Azula, who are differentiated by How Fucked Uolp They Are). Redemption is there, it’s an option, we can always do what is right, but someone people will choose not to, in part because doing the right thing involves opening ourselves to the world and others, and thus being vulnerable. Noelle mentions this offhandedly in an interview after Season 1 with the She-Ra Progressive of Power podcast - “I sometimes think that shades of grey, sympathetic villains are part of the escapist fantasy of shows like this.” Because in the real world, some people are just bastards, a point that was particularly clear in 2017. Prime and Shadow Weaver admit this reality, while Catra makes a philosophical point that even the bastards can change their ways (at least in theory).

*An idea first proposed in the second century by Origen, who’s a trip and a fucking half by himself, and an idea that becomes the Catholic doctrine of purgatory, which protestants vehemently denied!

**Speaking of favorite Noelle tropes