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mariana-oconnor · 2 years ago

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The Greek Interpreter pt 2

We have literally 0 plot to theorise on so far, just Mycroft in all his Mycroftian glory.

"I have had something quite after your own heart--a most singular problem--submitted to my judgement. I really had not the energy to follow it up save in a very incomplete fashion, but it gave me a basis for some pleasing speculation. If you would care to hear the facts--"

This is a bit like when my Mum tells me that I should look at the crossword she's started. Mycroft wants to share his enjoyment with his brother. Such a good older sibling. Also, he's too lazy to actually do the legwork required. But that's what younger siblings are for, isn't it? Or at least that's what my older brother tells me.

"This is Wednesday evening," said Mr Melas. "Well then, it was Monday night—only two days ago, you understand—that all this happened. I am an interpreter, as perhaps my neighbour there has told you. I interpret all languages—or nearly all—"

...He interprets all languages.

All languages.

All languages. Or nearly all. That's a lot of languages, my dude. I know some people who speak a lot of languages, but none of them comes close to speaking all languages. 5 or 6 I think is the most I've ever encountered, and only fluently in 3 or 4. There are definitely people out there who speak more, but nearly all. This man is officially the most knowledgeable person who has ever appeared in a Sherlock Holmes story. He's a linguistic genius.

The Internet tells me that historically the person who is said to have spoken/understood the most languages was Sir John Bowring, a 19th century governor of Hong Kong. He understood 200 languages and spoke 100.

The person who currently holds the record lives in Brazil and claims to speak 59.

The BBC website tells me that there are up to 7000 different languages, although 90% are spoken by less than 100,000 people. But Mr Melas does not specify that he speaks all the common languages or all the popular languages. He says he speaks nearly all languages.

Yes I am taking this literally purely to be difficult. It's more amusing that way. I know this is a case of hyperbole for fiction's sake, but I like the idea that Mr Melas speaks 6000+ languages. This is another case for random supernatural occurrences within the stories.

"I was not surprised, therefore, on Monday night when a Mr Latimer, a very fashionably dressed young man, came up to my rooms and asked me to accompany him in a cab which was waiting at the door. A Greek friend had come to see him upon business, he said, and as he could speak nothing but his own tongue, the services of an interpreter were indispensable."

First, I like the note that Mr Latimer is a fashion-conscious man. Second, how did he and the Greek man come to be friends if they could not speak each other's languages at all. Have they always spoken through other people? Maybe you should try learning some Greek, Mr Latimer.

"It was certainly more roomy than the ordinary four-wheeled disgrace to London, and the fittings, though frayed, were of rich quality."

Mr Melas is a cab snob. 'Four-wheeled disgrace to London' is a delightful turn of phrase.

"I had ventured some remark as to this being a roundabout way to Kensington, when my words were arrested by the extraordinary conduct of my companion. "He began by drawing a most formidable-looking bludgeon loaded with lead from his pocket, and switching it backward and forward several times, as if to test its weight and strength. Then he placed it without a word upon the seat beside him.

Well, this can't be good. Shenanigans are afoot. I like that Mr Latimer is very clear about this, though. Oh yeah, I'm a bad guy. Look at my bad guy credentials. There's no beating around the bush, just straight up threat of violence. Clear. To the point. No need for words.

"'This is very extraordinary conduct, Mr Latimer,' I stammered. 'You must be aware that what you are doing is quite illegal.' "'It is somewhat of a liberty, no doubt,'"

This is such a polite exchange. 'Uh, you are aware that kidnapping me is illegal, sir?' 'Yes, it's a little rude of me.'

So casual, so matter of fact. If I were kidnapped I wouldn't say 'hi, you know this is illegal, right?' But then i don't speak 6000+ languages, so what do I know about talking?

Realistically, this is terrifying, but Mr Melas' account is hilarious.

'I beg you to remember that no one knows where you are, and that, whether you are in this carriage or in my house, you are equally in my power.'

Less hilarious. More terrifying.

"'Well done, well done! No ill-will, Mr Melas, I hope, but we could not get on without you. If you deal fair with us you'll not regret it, but if you try any tricks, God help you!' He spoke in a nervous, jerky fashion, and with little giggling laughs in between, but somehow he impressed me with fear more than the other."

Yep, this guy seems unstable. Also 'no ill will'? You literally kidnapped him with a threat of violence. Yes ill will. Much ill will. I don't think you know what ill will means.

"'But say no more than you are told to say, or--' here came the nervous giggle again--'you had better never have been born.'"

Yep... this is the sign of a totally stable and reasonable person and absolutely not a creepy murderer. At least we already know Mr Melas survives to relate this tale, or I'd be certain he was about to be buried under the floorboards.

"'You are to ask the questions, Mr Melas, and he will write the answers. Ask him first of all whether he is prepared to sign the papers?'"

The fact he is not allowed to talk indicates that something about his voice would give something away. If they don't know Greek then writing and speaking are pretty much interchangeable for getting information across, so there would be no need to stop him from speaking because he can write incriminating things just as easily. Unless, one of them can read Greek, in which case why get an interpreter? So I stand by my thought that his voice must be incriminating. Or he's mute. Always possible.

"I took to adding on little sentences of my own to each question, innocent ones at first, to test whether either of our companions knew anything of the matter, and then, as I found that they showed no signs I played a more dangerous game."

Resourceful and intelligent. He tests the water first with non-incriminating stuff, then gets more in depth.

"'Harold,' said she, speaking English with a broken accent. 'I could not stay away longer. It is so lonely up there with only—Oh, my God, it is Paul!' "These last words were in Greek, and at the same instant the man with a convulsive effort tore the plaster from his lips, and screaming out 'Sophy! Sophy!' rushed into the woman's arMs Their embrace was but for an instant, however, for the younger man seized the woman and pushed her out of the room, while the elder easily overpowered his emaciated victim, and dragged him away through the other door.

OK, so Sophy seems to have been having quite a pleasant time of it all told. While poor Paul's been going through it. Kind of dumb of them to let her walk in on them, though. I assume that they had a plan to avoid that which somehow went wrong. Also, if she's being held of her own free will, this seems like it might put an end to that? Unless she's very gullible.

So, brother? I'm thinking relative because he has to sign something before she can get married? Or he wants her to be married? Presumably there's some sort of fortune involved.

"'We should not have troubled you, only that our friend who speaks Greek and who began these negotiations has been forced to return to the East. It was quite necessary for us to find some one to take his place, and we were fortunate in hearing of your powers.'"

'forced to return to the East' is that like saying he's in the cellar looking for a cask of amontillado? Maybe he just had a family emergency... maybe?

Also 'your powers', yes. Mr Melas's linguistic skills are clearly a super power.

"if you speak to a human soul about this—one human soul, mind—well, may God have mercy upon your soul!"

This threat clearly worked well, considering Mr Melas has so far told at least two souls about the situation, with great glee. I get the impression that Mr Melas is a stifled adrenaline junkie and this is the best thing that has happened to him all year.

"I cannot tell you the loathing and horror with which this insignificant-looking man inspired me. I could see him better now as the lamp-light shone upon him. His features were peaky and sallow, and his little pointed beard was thready and ill-nourished. [...] The terror of his face lay in his eyes, however, steel grey, and glistening coldly with a malignant, inexorable cruelty in their depths."

Sounds delightful.

Honestly, it's the little pointy beard that clearly marks him as a villain, though. Everyone knows that.

Although if he doesn't put more care into maintaining it, the league of villains will have him cast out for failure to maintain proper villainous standards.

"Any steps?" he asked. Mycroft picked up the Daily News, which was lying on the side-table. "'Anybody supplying any information to the whereabouts of a Greek gentleman named Paul Kratides, from Athens, who is unable to speak English, will be rewarded. A similar reward paid to any one giving information about a Greek lady whose first name is Sophy. X 2473.' That was in all the dailies. No answer."

Well now they're definitely going to know he said something. Subtle.

"In the meantime, Mr Melas, I should certainly be on my guard, if I were you, for of course they must know through these advertisements that you have betrayed them."

You don't say? No, seriously. I'd be worried if I were him. But apparently he's just got absolutely no fear.

"Then the brother--for that, I fancy, must be the relationship--comes over from Greece to interfere. He imprudently puts himself into the power of the young man and his older associate. They seize him and use violence towards him in order to make him sign some papers to make over the girl's fortune--of which he may be trustee--to them."

OK, so clearly that's entirely wrong because it's Watson's thoughts on the matter. So back to the drawing board. Not to disparage Watson, at all... but there's no way it's right if it's his theory.

"I really fancy that you are not far from the truth."

Really??!? That's probably the biggest surprise of this whole story so far.

Sophy seemed to have no inkling of any crime or ill-intent on the part of the bad guys, so they're clearly being subtle with her. Or they were. You don't just wander around a kidnapper's house going 'I came to find you Harold, because I was so lonely all alone up there'. Unless you're actually a character in an erotic thriller novel, then I guess that probably is a thing you would do.

I don't think this is an erotic thriller, however.

Did Watson really get this one right? I guess we'll find out next time.

#The Greek Interpreter #Sherlock Holmes #Letters from Watson #long post #That was the best gif of evil Leo from charmed I could find #it was very disappointing #but I really wanted to include him #because it's such a look #lol

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shrimpmandan · 2 years ago

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During the early history of paraphilic study, non-human objects were actually the focal point and core concept discussed in the 19th century. Objectiphiles were the main sample group and study.

Paraphilia has never been exclusively synonymous with pedophilia.

^^^^^

A lot of common and not inherently harmful fetishes can also fit under the criteria of a paraphilic disorder for that matter. Paraphilia =/= paraphilic disorder inherently, but for the intents and purposes of para discourse, let's just pull up some diagnostic criteria. This is all from the DSM-V, taken from cambridge.org (full article). I actually highly recommend reading the article because it's a pretty thorough explanation of paraphilic disorders in the DSM-V, as well as a critique of the diagnoses.

Let's just go down the list.

Voyeuristic/exhibitionistic disorder: In this particular context, discusses nonconsensual voyeurism. However, plenty of people engage in consensual or consensual-nonconsent versions of voyeurism. Same goes for exhibitionistic disorder.

Frotteuristic disorder: Once again, this specifically refers to nonconsensual dry-humping/groping. This could totally be done consensually with a partner, but in any other context is a crime.

Sexual sadism/masochism disorder: This is actually the one I've seen be most advocated for its removal from the DSM-V. Sadomasochism, while still not entirely destigmatized, is comparably more accepted than other paraphilias in this list and can 1000% be done consensually and safely.

Side tangent: A lot of sources and individuals (including this article) critique how the paraphilic disorder criteria in its current state stigmatizes completely normal and healthy sexual expression. Though, it is important to note that for something to qualify as a paraphilic disorder, it needs to either A) cause clinically significant distress or B) involve a nonconsenting party. You can see the latter in voyeuristic/exhibitionistic disorder, and in frotteuristic disorder.

Moving on...

Paedophilic/pedophilic disorder: Pretty self-explanatory: children can't consent, and manipulating or forcing them into performing sexual activities is evil. Sexually assaulting a child should never be legal or decriminalized in any way, shape, or form. That said, pedophile =/= child molester, and it's estimated that only 50% of child molesters fit the DSM-V criteria of pedophilic disorder. It should also be noted that pedophilia SPECIFICALLY refers to the attraction to prepubescent children. Infantophilia, hebephilia, and ephebophilia are all similar but not identical paraphilias that fall under the broad category of chronophilia.

Fetishistic disorder: Objectophilia falls under this, though fetishistic disorder also encompasses partialism (arousal caused by nonsexual body parts, such as feet or armpits). Psychology Today (like most psychological sources) notes that while fetishism is not inherently harmful, a fetish that causes distress to its 'sufferer' will likely qualify as having a paraphilic disorder. This can also include when the paraphilia consumes your entire life; this can be seen with the infamous Wonderbread Guy. Dude has actively pretty much ruined his life and his relationship with his family through his fetishistic obsession with a very specific brand of white bread.

Transvestic disorder: Another one that's been widely advocated to be removed from the DSM-V entirely. You think we would've moved past "being gender nonconforming is a mental illness!" by now, but... but no. I'll come back to this one though.

Other specified paraphilic disorder: This one is funny to me because a lot of people say "the big 3" to mean pedophilia, zoophilia, and necrophilia. Except zoophilia and necrophilia are lumped into the 'other' category alongside comparably tame paraphilias. It should be noted that scatalogia often involves a nonconsenting party, but obviously can be roleplayed consensually with a trusted partner. Coprophilia may pose some health concerns depending on how its done, but is ultimately not inherently a violation of consent. Urophilia and klismaphilia might just be there because they're deemed as being 'strange'.

I think most people have probably gleaned from this that... most paraphilias featured in the DSM-V criteria for a paraphilic disorder are pretty harmless, or can at least be expressed in a healthy manner. Some of them (namely zoophilia, necrophilia, and pedophilia) are pretty inarguably only ethical when expressed in fiction, such as through art (though do note that some 2D 'underage' art can still be considered illegal, depending on where you live; in the USA, it'll be considered illegal if the subject resembles a real, identifiable child), writing, and fantasy.

The subject of "clinically significant distress" is also interesting to me, because many of these fetishes are stigmatized. Even consensual sadomasochists are targeted as being abusers or victims of said abuse, and other paraphilias are treated as weird at best, and downright revolting or immoral at worst. Naturally, this can lead to distress for the person with those paraphilias and put a strain on their interpersonal relationships, regardless of if the paraphilia would've caused them any distress on its own. You could have two completely harmless paraphilias (let's just say for example, transvestism and urophilia), and feel distress because your partner is openly judgmental and revolted by it. Hell, I've KNOWN people who have completely harmless and consensual paraphilias who feel shame and worry and 'distress' of that nature because they're scared their future partners might judge them for what they're into. In my opinion, it'd be extremely callous to say that the individual is disordered in that instance, as opposed to them being made to feel gross or unlovable by other people.

I feel like less people (or maybe even more, since most people take having paraphilias to their grave or it's only revealed if they commit some kind of crime) would end up being diagnosed with paraphilic disorders if stigma around them decreased-- and yes, you can decrease stigma while still maintaining that the violation of anyone or anything's consent is immoral and illegal.

#anon #saucyish #paraphilia discourse #kink discourse #to an extent #sexology

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heyclickadee · 3 months ago

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Five, “Drawlight”

-So I said last time that Norrell immediately clocked that Drawlight wanted something out of him. That’s true, but Norrell’s assumption is that Drawlight is either a rival magician or the servant of a rival magician wanting to do him harm in some way Norrell never actually specifies (but I bet it involves stealing his library). Because Norrell looks at everything through the lens of magic and wanting to be the only magician. So, of course, once he finds out Drawlight’s just some guy—basically the 19th century equivalent of a Twitter Kid or a TikTok influencer who runs on the currency of getting all the attention all the time—he thinks he’s basically safe.

-I love how Childermass explains that Drawlight IS dangerous but that Norrell should go along with him anyway. You know, use the social butterfly to get an in with someone who might give Norrell a chance to use magic in a way that would be useful (and advance Norrell’s prospects). And honestly, if Norrell had more of Childermass’s social sense, he might have managed it perfectly. He. He does not and he does not manage it well.

-Drawlight suddenly being in charge of Norrell’s social schedule and taste in home decor is very “mean middle school girls adopt the weird girl as a pet and the weird girl doesn’t know.” :/

-There’s a reason Mrs. Littlesworth brings up the story of the street magician who can’t do magic in the context of Norrell being invited to house after house after house. Watch this space.

-LONG FOOTNOTES TIME

-I really do sometimes wonder if “Buckler” from the story of Simon Bloodworth and the Gentleman with the Thistledown Hair are the same entity.

-There’s a LOT to unpack in Norrell’s denunciation of the Raven King (and basically every other magician). There’s Norrell’s need to be respectable, there’s the distance he wants to put between himself and the reputation of practical magic (which is LOADED with classism and a lot else), there’s definitely some xenophobia—but also, in the context of some things we find out later? It’s a little like someone hating the dad they never met for leaving and never coming back. That’s not literally what it is, but that’s the vibe. It’s a little personal.

#jonathan strange and mr norrell #norrell goes to a bunch of small parties and likes them #though no one else does

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mx-ryder · 5 months ago

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Commission Sample

700 words from a 3k word commission. M/M pairing with some fun dynamics that I really enjoyed being able to explore.

Ben snorted, not quite a laugh. “I’m not going to die from scraped knuckles. The other guy got it worse, anyway.” He flexed his hand as he spoke, impressed despite himself. Angel had done a good job. His knuckles hardly even hurt any more. Still looking down at his bandaged hand, he reached for Angel again, catching the other man’s hand as he moved to step away. “That’s why I came back. I need more.”

He didn’t need to specify more of what. It was the only reason he ever came to see Angel.

One of the only reasons.

To his surprise, Angel didn’t pull away. Instead, the other man stepped closer again. His hand came to Ben’s cheek, the gentlest of touches. Ben leaned into the contact; even if it was a literal demon, it had been a long time since someone had touched him with such gentle intent.

Angel’s voice was soft when he spoke. “This is unhealthy, Benjamin.”

Ben blinked. “Unhealthy? You’re taking chunks of my real human soul, and you’re worried about my health? Just . . . give me what I came for. And I’ll get out of your hair.” Until the next time his luck swung in the wrong direction.

“You sound like an addict.”

Angel clamped his mouth shut the moment the words left, wishing them unsaid. When Ben looked up at him, he could see the hurt in his eyes. Humans displayed so much of their emotion in their faces, their body language, their voices when they spoke. Everything in Ben’s posture and expression said that Angel had hurt him, and angered him.

Angel moved away, dropping his hand, backing away from Ben.

Ben followed him, hauling himself out of his chair in a series of pained movements. “No shit I sound like an addict.” He practically whispered it, his voice coming like poison. He advanced on Angel as he spoke, still limping with every step. “I am addicted. You changed my luck, and I got everything I’ve ever wanted. Money, sex, success. And every time it goes to shit I have to crawl back here to you and beg you for another fix. Even though I know it’ll just all go to shit again eventually.”

For an instant, Angel was nearly afraid. He was centuries older than Ben, worlds more powerful, and had his two living shadows besides. But the anger, the desperation on Ben’s face, and the way the larger man loomed over him, was nearly enough. He shrank away from Ben, realizing an instant too late that he’d come up against a wall.

“Do you know what that’s like, Angel?”

Angel gasped. That might have been the first time Ben had ever said his name. And he’d said it with such disdain.

Ben continued, still advancing, pressing Angel against the wall with his looming frame. Though Ben didn’t touch him, Angel shrank further away. He couldn’t take his eyes from Ben’s face, frozen under his searing gaze.

He seemed to want an answer, so Angel whispered a soft “no.”

“Of course you don’t. Because you’re Mr. High-and-mighty Demonspawn. You hold all the power in everything you do. You get people hooked on you, and you wring every bit of humanity out of them until they–” Stopping, Ben pressed a hand to his mouth and pulled it away bloody. He’d re-opened the split in his bottom lip. “Fuck.”

The change came over him suddenly. Blinking as though waking up from a dream, he looked down at Angel where he had pressed himself as close to the wall as possible. His face twisted, expression shifting from anger to something surprisingly close to shame.

“Fuck,” he said again. “I’m–I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–”

Without quite knowing why, or that he’d intended to do it, Angel pushed forward. He curled his fingers in the front of Ben’s shirt, pulling Ben down to his level so he could kiss him.

Ben reacted with a fervor that surprised Angel. He brought one hand up to Angel’s cheek, and closed the few inches of space between them again, crushing Angel between himself and the wall. Angel tasted the coppery tang of blood on his tongue, but ignored it.

#writing #writeblr #creative writing #fiction #original characters #commission sample #commission #commissions #fiction commission #fiction commissions #writing commission #writing commissions #story commission #commissions open

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deadlynyghtshayde · 2 years ago

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I finished Sailor Stars and I have so many thoughts... so I will thoughtdump here!

I just finished Stars for the first time at 29 yrs old (having been a fan since the 90s, but I didn't like hearing a different cast).

I find myself conflicted at the ending, I feel as though Usagi finally got to be a teen in a teen romance/flirtation. (I know that Mamo isn't that much older than her realistically, but his situation is so much more independent he cones across as much older - and I could be projecting because I spent my teens with a guy 8 years older than me and feel like I missed out on experiencing a special, innocent kind of romance) I think her relationship with Seiya grows organically - in a way that maybe we just didn't get to see with Mamoru, but happened behind the scenes. I want to specify - I went into this series thinking I wouldn't really care for the starlights.

Especially coming off of her experiences with Chibiusa, where she was playing the part of simultaneously a big sister, a mother, and some twisted kind of romantic rival, always competing for his attention against someone she cared deeply for (a relationship which she didnt really get a choice in), but her relationship with Chibiusa was often strained, and Mamoru seems to spend a lot of this time waving her away with placating pats on the head and passivity.

To my mind, she's constantly expected to live up to and behave according to a person she hasn't grown to be yet, a person centuries (?) In her future. (The sailor moon into Neo Queen Serenity timeline still confuses me despite decades of loving the franchise. I need to properly read the manga) Sailor Stars was the first season that I felt we got to see her just get to be a growing person, juvinile and able to have adventures with her friends.

I also found myself extremely frustrated with Haruka for the first time - her actions felt like they were fed by jealousy in a very out of character way by this point in the show. She is protective, yes, and she and Usagi perpetually have a kind of flirtation going on, but no one gives Usagi a minute to explain her side before they're chastising her on behalf of Mamoru without a second thought, no one asks her how he's doing - that's all it would take for them to find out she hasn't heard from him.

I love Usagi with Seiya, I think they compliment eachother well, and - if it wasn't for a pre-written future, and finding out that Mamoru wasn't ignoring her, but actually gone - I would have loved to see them end up together.

I think, seeing how the show ended, I need to rewatch again from the beginning to try to ground myself in the facts again. But as it stands, I adore Seiya more than I ever thought possible and wish they had more of a possible future together.

After all, even if her future with Mamoru is predetermined.. Usagi has two hands, a polyamory doesn't seem out of the question for this franchise 😏

#this really is jsut a thought dump. dont take it too seriously :)

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cryopathiic-a · 1 year ago

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It was such a sad, sad story. The tale of an unfulfilled hitman who sought to act in the name of a higher purpose, for once, and follow after the distorted truths that had been spoon-fed to him by those same lips that now offered him kind smiles and affectionate words. The mission they had assigned to him that night in that seedy bar whilst rolling over spilled drinks and sticky paper money and cigarette ash; it would have been the same if they merely pushed him off a boat in the middle of the ocean.

And now they could witness the man swimming amidst his own confusion, slowly coming to question his own eyes with what he was witnessing. Gods. He must have been really desperate.

Of course, Dōma considered himself innocent until proven otherwise. And wasn't he a marvelous host? He even spared a third drop of blood into that tea cup - and his companion seemed to appreciate it. An observation, noted dully behind prismatic eyes; for a young demon, that guy could handle his first meals a lot better than most. In the casualty with which Michikatsu downed the cups one after the other, Dōma saw his own reflection.

That was odd.

❝ Well, now you're just being mean to yourself. And so what if you didn't make it? ❞ Right, as Dōma had gotten what he wanted. His sun immunity restored, when the Demon Queen welcomed him back under her wing. Besides, it was funny, that a human - until recently, at least - would talk to him about old and forgotten cultures. He was traversing his second century of life already and yet the other was more keen on reverberating dusty oaths of honor! What an amusing notion. ❝ Mistakes happen. Failure happens, too. Or else we would never learn anything, we'd just be born... well, knowing everything. And trust me when I tell you, that is an incredibly boring way to live your life. ❞ It almost sounded a little ominous, but then he was stealing the poor man's pants and walking off; and the whole spectacle of Tsugikuni shooting up and belatedly realizing he wasn't wearing any. That earned a genuine laugh from Dōma; and it was feather-light and effervescent and all things pretty chiming all at once. It was meant to be.

Besides, his company wasn't far behind in that regard. Losing his mind or otherwise, it would suffice to say the former actor was just happy it was this one. He didn't make a habit of surrounding himself with uglies, after all. Some things never change.

❝ Pft- you're one silly man, Tsugikuni Michikatsu. Silly enough to think I'm going to let you walk through that door and catch a cold like that. ❞ Oh, he was adamant. They rested together like this for some time, whilst the oni silently dwelled on his course of action. He must keep him here, to begin with. Initially, because he needs to figure out what happened to the assassin before someone else does. It was specified in one of the contracts she made him sign upon rejoicing with her, that Dōma was not allowed to share his blessing anymore. Because she didn't want their race diluted; and she didn't want others. She would, instead, prefer to hog it all for herself.

Even poor, sweet Michikatsu.

Cool lips pursed with the thought. He turned to peer at the man in question a few minutes into watching the show; his clenched jaw and tired eyes; a gaze as mysterious as the dark side of the moon. Those stoic features framed by dark, wavy hair, he — for a moment, as he nuzzled into his clavicle, Dōma could swear--

Fifteen million yen in three... two... one... Aaaand we have a line!

His eyes slipped to the television. He settled back down, head resting against that still moist shoulder. And there was a soft giggle. And his hand snuck around the other in a half-embrace, just as long legs coiled closer.

❝ Blergh- you smell like wet dog~ ❞ The tease fell softly between them. Some man that slurred over his words had called in the gameshow; there was an obscure conversation between him and the show host in the background. Dōma sat up to let his head roll back and turn his weapon on the other; those big, glassy eyes. They almost sparkled. ❝ Want me to run you a bath or something? Or, wait, are you supposed to wait for marriage to do that, in your 'forgotten part of our history and culture', huh? ❞ He nudged him lightly with a chuckle.

#𝚅 𝟶𝟼. ⟅ i have been here as i am a thousand times ⟆#forbidden tw #fallesto

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adaodinson · 3 years ago

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I didn´t call you babe, I was asking what it meant

It’s been a while since I posted a story, I apologize, I´ve been like crazy cause I’m starting college this year and well, I haven´t had time.

I finally watched Bill and Ted´s trilogy and of course I now adore them and have the biggest crush on Ted. I thought of this while rewatching the first movie today so here it is. In this story Lizzie and Joanna are saved by Rufus like in the movie, but they don´t stay with Bill an Ted (they can still be a part of the band though).

Summary: When the guys go to London in the XV century, they encounter someone else who needs a hand.

Relationship: Ted x femreader, Bill x platonic!femreader

Warnings: none.

Oh you did it this time, you certainly did it. There was no way you would get away from this execution. You were being dragged by the guards, not that you would try to fight them at this point, you knew it was hopeless, but you weren´t going to make it easy for them either.

The wooden door opened with a loud creak as the light from the outside blinded you. You could feel the change in the floor, from cold stone to dirt. You weren´t precisely scared, you were hoping you would get out of this just like the past times but now they took you by surprise, and unlike the others, you didn´t have an escape plan now.

You felt dozens of eyes on you, looking in disgust. Everyone here knew you at this point: the young girl with the weird accent that had no family and only knew how to steal. It was partially true, but of course there was more to you. You didn´t bother trying to change their minds about you anymore, though.

-Aha! I encounter you again- yelled the king from his seat. You rolled your eyes at him and at the look of victory in his eyes. You really didn´t want to give him the satisfaction of killing you, and you didn´t want to die either.

As the guards settled you in place, you realized they were dragging two weird looking guys and tying them up next to you. They had clothes you had never seen before, and they looked funnily scared. The blonde one had a kind aura, he seemed sweet, and the dark haired one, as foolish as he looked, you had to admit was rather handsome. Well, you were clearly lying to yourself, he was beautiful.

-First time here, boys?- You asked with a giggle, still refusing to believe you were going to die.

-You’ve been in this situation before? Are you a ghost?- they asked at the same time.

-I’ve indeed been in this situation before, but I can guarantee I´m not a ghost- you stated.

-Well, how did you get out? We could use some help ya know, babe- The dark haired said with a cute and confused look in his eyes. You flinched at the nickname, you certainly hadn´t heard that before and didn´t know what to think about it.

-Babe?- you asked.

-Yeah?- The same guy asked, waiting for you to say something else. His expression suddenly changed as if he had realized something- Wait, did you just call ME babe?- You swore he was blushing.

-No, I was asking you what it meant…ARGH- you were interrupted by the burning sensation of rope around your neck. They were putting you all in position for the execution.

Behind you, you heard a man screaming nonsense “They fell from the sky!!” “This devilish red box!!”. He was being carried by a cart and was hugging the weirdest thing you had ever seen.

-This is it. Lord, I can´t believe this- You were getting ready to face your destiny when you noticed there where only two executioners. Before you could even realize what was happening, the executioners cut the ropes that were holding you.

-Billy! Socrates!- The guys yelled while hugging the men. You then felt a hand on your shoulder and quickly turned, ready to punch who you thought was a guard.

-DON´T- The cute boy said while covering his face.

-Come on, babe! Come with us, we can get you out of here- You didn’t even stop to think about it, you just jumped to the cart and screamed your way through the town. You were speeding up more and more, and you were not feeling ready to die again, so as you passed a bridge, you managed to grab a rope that was tight to a wooden structure and pulled so it would block your persecutor´s way.

-WOW That was excellent! - both boys said at the same time and then did a strange movement with their hands in the air while shacking their heads happily. They were definitely the weirdest people you had ever met, but you liked that.

As you reached the woods, the guys hurried all of you to get into the red rectangle. You saw the blonde guy going through a book and pressing some metallic thingies.

-Oh I´m Ted by the way, and that is Bill, Socrates and Billy- Ted said while pointing at each of them. You blushed at his attention.

-I´m Y/N- you said with a worried smile since the guards were getting closer.

-Y/N- Ted repeated proudly- Beautiful name for a beautiful lady- That made you blush even more, especially since you were pretty close to him because of the small space inside the red rectangle.

Suddenly all your surrounding changed and you could only see what seemed like infinite. You closed your eyes while screaming and hang on to the shirt of whoever was next to you. Spoiler alert, it was Ted. He didn’t even scream through the time tunnels since he was too busy looking at you.

The red thing finally stopped and Bill asked you to stay inside. You didn´t see much of what happened out there, you just heard Bill and Ted say: “Be excellent to each other, and party on, dudes!”. You didn´t know what that meant, but they said it with such conviction you assumed they were wise words.

After the guys returned, you made more travels to who knows where and then finally arrived to what Bill and Ted called home. You saw Ted´s house and your head was now hurting with questions, but you understood Ted and Bill needed your help so you would ask everything after that.

They took you to a place called The Mall. It was huge and filled with people. You were looked at weirdly, but to you, the weird ones were all of them. Bill explained what The Mall was and Ted never left your side, he was at the end of the line, guarding all your new friends, but always made sure you were feeling safe.

They gave you a Slursy? Slusfy? Oh whatever, it was the most delicious thing you had ever tried, and Ted smiled so widely just by seeing how happy you were with it. He mentioned they would have to go get another historical figure that they had brought before, and you didn´t want to be without them so you asked if you could go with them. They agreed happily.

You then met Deacon, Ted´s little brother, and before you knew you were at a place called a water park? You didn´t understand so Ted took you to take a look and explain while Bill went looking for Napoleon. You got lost in Ted´s explanation by looking into his eyes, and he realized you weren´t paying attention. He thought you were making fun of him in your head or that you thought he was an idiot. But what you blurted out (according to you, you said it in your head, apparently you didn´t) made him see that wasn´t at all what you were thinking.

-How can you be so cute and pretty?- The question was out before you could even think. You turned a bright red and looked at the floor, but Ted softly grabbed your chin and made you look at him.

-You really think that, Y/N?- His eyes were filled with so much joy, hope and a beautiful spark that you couldn’t bring yourself to lie to him.

-Well, yes, of course I do. I mean, you literally saved me and…- You weren´t allowed to finish, a pair of soft lips in yours interrupted you midsentence, but of course you didn´t care. You tasted and enjoyed every bit of it, just like Ted did.

-Okay guys, I found him… WOAH- Bill was carrying a man covered in a towel and was smirking at you both.

-DUDE- Ted said looking happier than you had ever seen him (and that was a lot to say).

-Awesome!- They both said and did what you now knew was an air guitar movement.

You headed back to the Mall and soon realized your historical friends had been taken to prison by Ted’s father. You didn’t really understand what was going on, everything was new for you and Bill had to drag you as you stood astonished looking at a bicycle (not to mention how many questions you asked about the car). The guys decided it would be best if you stayed with Missy and Napoleon in the car, Ted specified he didn’t want you to get hurt.

Missy asked you tons of questions and answered yours. She was really nice, and even though Napoleon was weird, he was really funny (because he didn’t understand anything).

Finally Bill and Ted returned with the others and you headed back to the Mall.

You weren’t a historical figure, so you got to watch the guy’s complete presentation from behind the stage and to clap like crazy when they finished. Ted had gotten you some clothes when you returned to the Mall, and you were the most comfortable you had ever been.

You decided to stay with them, but you did accompany the guys to leave the historical figures at their times, they ended up being your friends after all.

When you returned, Ted wanted to offer you to stay in his house, but he knew his dad wouldn´t allow it, so you stayed with Bill instead. You saw Ted all the time though, and when they discovered that you could sing they immediately asked you to join their band and be the lead singer. You couldn´t say no to Ted´s beautiful face, so you agreed, and of course their love for music was contagious and you were loving every new song they showed you. Rufus then confirmed you were a part of the band in the future, and so, that´s how your life in a different time began, and you couldn´t love it more.

#bill and ted #bill and ted’s excellent adventure #ted logan x reader #bill preston x platonic reader #bill and ted x reader #keanu reeves #alex winter #keanu reeves character #alex winter character #ted theodore logan #bill s preston esquire #ted theodore logan x reader

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thefanficmonster · 4 years ago

Text

Rumors

Corpse Husband x Bimbo!Reader (Female)

Warnings: Mentions of Slut Shaming, Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Tiniest bit of Angst, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When some rumors start floating around, every content creator does their best to either ignore them or defuse the situation. However, sometimes, the fans attempt to do the defusing themselves which only leads to a worse disaster. That’s the case for Corpse whose fans were quick to jump to his protection of some ‘false’ rumors.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request, it was a joy to write. I’m sorry for how long it has taken me to complete and post the fic but here it finally is and I hope you enjoy reading it at least half as much as I enjoyed writing it! Love, Vy ❤

Corpse cracks his knuckles, then his shoulders, then his collarbone, then the his neck. He clenches his jaw as he breathes steadily and rhythmically, trying to control an overwhelming wave of anger that he has never felt before. This is a situation he’s never had to deal with nor did he ever think he’d have to deal with and address on a fucking livestream on top of all, but here he is now, doing his best to count to ten and not go on a Twitter responding spree, calling people out on their bullshit. He wanted to do so, he still wants to, but he was stopped in his intentions and brought to a calm mindset where he was swayed into dealing with this the civil way and not by roasting the fuck out of any and every foul-mouthed person he’s seen on his Twitter timeline.

He can’t really guarantee and civility during the stream either, he’s aware his tolerance is as thin as a stretched out, old rubber band and is a slight tug away from snapping and allowing him to unleash hell on these people because of who he’s been seeing red these past few days.

Let’s not risk a misunderstanding here - Corpse absolutely loves and adores his fans, but seeing this behavior from them is quite upsetting and disappointing. When he uses the terms like ‘assholes’, ‘jerks’ and ‘rude motherfuckers’ he isn’t referring to them. He knows they are good people, but are using the completely wrong tactic of defending him, not to mention he doesn’t even need defending. Even if he did, he’s more than capable of doing it on his own and not getting other people involved.

“Hello everyone, hope you’re doing well.“ He finally settles on saying, officially kicking off the stream. If there’s any indicator of the serious nature of this stream, it’s probably the lack of lo-fi and the lack of even attempted playfulness and cheeriness in his voice. That’s how you know shit isn’t to be messed around about. “I just realized I didn’t specify what I’ll be doing in the Tweet, but I’ll tell you now, so those who aren’t interested in the subject or want to steer clear of the drama can leave. However, I wouldn’t advise clicking off considering this will be an overall, how do I say this, rant, of sorts? It’s meant to knock some sense in the people who have been spreading hate for a specific person on all social media platforms she’s active on.“

The majority of the viewers are already familiar with the subject, some even guilty of spreading the hate Corpse mentioned, but there are a few that are completely clueless - the ones actually not interested in online drama, not just saying they ‘hate drama’. With those people in mind, Corpse takes to addressing the issue from its very beginning.

“So, for a month now, me and this streamer, who’s also a TikTok star, by the name of Y/N have been interacting a lot on social media. She’s an incredibly sweet girl that a lot of people have prejudice towards. She’s very misjudged and misunderstood because people see he solely as her content, if that makes sense. They only know she’s that streamer who wears revealing clothes on her streams and posts risqué pictures on her Instagram. Like, no.“ Corpse cannot even fully believe he has to address this and that slut-shaming people is still a thing in the twenty-first century. He closes his eyes for a moment, fist tightening and his knuckles turning white, “I don’t understand how so many people can be so shallow and just plain jerks towards her in general, but then again - this is especially for my fans, the members of my fandom - I don’t understand the need you guys feel to put Y/N down to defend me from some ridiculous rumors as if it’s the first time I’ve had to deal with people talking shit for attention or to get someone canceled.“ He sighs, reminding himself to slow his roll as to not confuse any viewers who still don’t know the full story, “Anyway, back to the timeline of events. So, considering we’ve never interacted before, all the replying to comments, retweeting, liking posts and whatever sparked some dating rumors. Isn’t that just fucking hilarious - you see two people interacting on social media and the first thing that comes to mind is that they’re in a romantic relationship. Where did the friendship go? Does no one value or consider friendships to be a valid type of human relation anymore?“ He runs a hand through his hair, making another pause to clear his mind and prevent his frustration from overflowing. He promised he wouldn’t lose his cool and would remain calm and collected, but the more he talks about it the tighter he clenches his fist and the faster his heartrate is. His neck and ears are red from the tension he feels all over, almost like he’s physically restraining a raging wild animal and not just his own thoughts and emotions.

There’s layers to his anger, the lower ones - aka the ones he’s yet to get to - will be a nightmarish test of his self-control, he already knows it. Judging by how much of a toll this rant has already taken on him, his patience and control growing thinner and thinner, he’s not sure how he’ll power through the last layers without his voice raising awfully high in volume and his fists searching for some object to punch. To an ignorant eye, his reaction would seem exaggerated and overboard, but little does that ignorant eye know...

“When some of my fans saw those rumors, they reacted very badly. It was quite disappointing to see. Guys, I appreciate you standing up for me even though you shouldn’t do that - I can defend myself, not that this was a matter I needed defending from to begin with. But just the way some of you went about it was horrifically wrong and quite upsetting, to me but especially to Y/N herself.“ He can feel it, the aggravation growing, bubbling up in his chest, “What I saw disgusted me, I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. The things some of you were saying...I couldn’t believe you are in fact the same people who are my fans, my lovely fans who I’ve always thought so highly of. Never did I think you could be able of slut-shaming so vulgarly and grossly, I couldn’t believe what I was reading.“

He has every right to be upset - the things being said about Y/N were truly awful and a lot of things being said were meant to defend Corpse and defuse the rumors, doing so while stomping all over Y/N and her content. Rightfully so, many of her fans were outraged and quick to jump to her defense but were unfortunately outnumbered, leading Corpse to believe not many of her fans are actually real or as dedicated as his which only fueled his fury further.

Anyway, let’s take a look at Y/N’s point of view. Being a content creator for as long as she has, refusing to change her style no matter how many people disagreed and insulted her about it, she’s grown quite used to people spitting insults at her on every social media possible. It’s sad how throughout the majority of her content creating career she’s only had haters, creeps and fake fans watching her videos and streams. Rare are those in her fandom who’d actually stick up for her and defend her in ‘scandals’ such as this one. However, no amount of experience with dealing with hate could have prepared her for this outpour of some of the meanest shit she’s ever heard and been called in her life.

Y/N likes the content she makes, she’s comfortable in her skin and loves her body. She loves showing it off too and nor she nor anyone who wants that deserves to be shamed for who they are and what they do, especially when they aren’t hurting anyone and their content is still appropriate. People have always bashed her for all elements of who she is: her appearance, her clothing style, her streams, her gaming skills, her voice on occasion. She can count the instances when she’s received positive feedback on the fingers of her hands which would depress anyone else but not her. She’s always created content for her own amusement and entertainment so people’s opinions never really bothered her. Until now, until this very drama that has hit a specific nerve, an insecurity of hers she’s never talked about. The comments such as:

(Vy Speaking: Comments containing slut-shaming ahead, go to ### if you want to skip)

“Corpse would never date a slut like her“

“Corpse dating this thot? Please internet stop being ridiculous“

“Corpse ain’t a pimp, y’all need to chill“

“Even if they datin they gon break up soon - whore stays a whore“

###

bothered her far more than she’d like to admit. She has no one to open up about it either, she knows what she’ll get in response if she does - she’ll be told it’s her fault. Her fault because of the way she dresses, the way she talks and acts, because she chose this career to begin with. All her fault. The only person she can turn to she refuses to because she doesn’t want to be a bother - not after so many people confirmed her worries that she’s not good enough for him already anyway, the least she can do is avoid bothering him the best she can.

And that is exactly why this has upset Corpse so much.

“Here’s a little message specifically meant for those who claimed I’d never date someone like Y/N or specifically Y/N. You better listen carefully: Don’t you ever, and I mean EVER slut-shame my girlfriend or any other person ever. I cannot believe I have to explicitly remind you that your behavior isn’t ok. You should fucking know that your behavior isn’t right and that you’re a massive piece of shit for saying those awful things about others you judge solely on appearance and clothing. Does it surprise you that I am, in fact, dating Y/N? If you say yes for the reason you think she’s not good enough for me or that I deserve better, please get the fuck out of my fandom. No one disrespects my girl and gets away with it. That’s final!“

Though still under the influence of a flurry of negative emotions, overhearing Corpse literally telling people to exclude themselves from his fandom for being mean to her, Y/N’s taking a step towards emotional recovery knowing her boyfriend will always have her back. He’ll always be there to prove people wrong, defend her and stand by her. He’ll be there to catch her when the hate knocks her off her feet.

But most importantly: he’ll never ask her to change. Not her style, not her clothes, not her personality, nothing. He fell for her the way she is and for who she is, and he will never allow anyone to try to change her either. For someone who’s never had much support all her life, a single speck of support overpowers all the hate within the blink of an eye. Corpse will always be her knight in shining armor, the knight who defeated all the hateful demons by just entering her life. And though she’s still struggling with the ‘Am I good enough for someone so wonderful?’ and ‘He deserves better, doesn’t he?’ questions, with his hand holding hers, she’ll never let those doubts and insecurities overpower her.

@maat-the-prescriptive @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @itsminniekat @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01 @buddyemily @the-albino-lioness @stardream14 @gdhdkfnn @nomadicgypsyy @preciousskye @fluffysuicideunicornsworld @o-kaelin @manacharlotte @awkward-youtube-trash @lolalee24 @bonky-beerns @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @strawbrinkofdeath @teenloves @tams0527 @browneyespinkhair @starstruckllamapuppy @daisychains012 @y0ulooked @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life @jula-pauline @melodykitty @just-that-bi-girl @crazybutconfidentaf @lowellshade @alphakees @bellero @weallneednamjesus @starryhanji @boiled-onionrings @husherstan @fockingwhore @melaningoddessthings @prettypastelpetals @haleypearce @godwhyamiawkward @y-napotat @daisychainyoonmin @little-miss-rebel3 @free-wheelin-bi-sexual @redmoon261 @darkacademic2 @wiseflamingoqueen @into-the-end @namikhai-i @nastiablr @thelittleplantlover @mirktuan @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny @vintagegothlover @easygoingtheatre @itsrandombooklover @miiaivi @emmybaybee @befourgolden @jjk-is-my-shit @eternalteaaars @spacebadgerx @princesslunalight @acequinn14 @samm48 @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa @fo-love @marishimomura-blog @therealglenncoco @cinnamonbun332 @killtherandomness @sanshinexxxsan @fee-btheweeb @press-lay @cathleenpotgieter16 @jazzydoesstuff @moonlxghtbay @forestrain2000 @hyunjinhugs @blood-of-fandoms @lovellylies @ukiyolixx @simpforhpcharacters @chrisdylan17 @parkerjisung @pedernille @theodonyous @wineandionysus @malfoystilinskii05 @morbid-x @coryisagee @jessewa26 @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365 @raeanneinwonderland @indecisive-empanada @gluttonypalace @loriane2503 @btsiguess-kpop @khaoticbunny @lucidlycactus @smiithys @rottenroyalebooks @kpopgirlbtssvt @fangirl-tc27 @fr0z3n-1 @notmesimpingfortechno @shotarosleftpinky @kunoi-chan @idk-whats-wrong-with-me @yikeroonie @goldenstarofthunderclan @poetry-and-tea @ama-do-writing-stuff @wishbonewolf @emeraldxhope @t0xick1tty @kusuinko @speakyourselfloveyourself @sophia902103 @lo-manburg @classsykittykat @dmgama @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee @btsiguess-kpop @akaashi-baby @gun-jong-simp @geschichtenfee @yerapotato-wp @browneyedgirl365 @thysagclub @sparklycloudnight @helloatomicshadow @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal @lucy-bunny17 @aaliyahh0 @katluckybear @boyleanti @straybids @franchesca-791 @cosmicstorm19 @averyisbackinthetrashcan @hisokaslefttiti

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thatspookyagent · 3 years ago

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Being in a relationship with Hawks (Pro-Hero!Black!Male!Reader) would include...

Warnings: Slight intoxication mention (nothing big I promise!), mentions of cheating/infidelity

A/N: I just recently finished season 4 of BNHA and I have to write up something for my boy Hawks for my pride month writing challenge! I can't help but think about how him and a Pro-Hero!Black!Male!Reader would be such a power couple! Reader does have a quirk but it isn’t specified so insert whatever quirk you would want into the story! Anyways, please enjoy! :)

If you want to be added to my tag list, don’t be afraid to ask via my ask box or through messages! I’m always looking to add more people and I’d be more than happy to add you (if you wish)! :3

When the two of you got together, it was like a match made in heaven

Some pro-heroes even made bets on how long it would take till you and Hawks ended up having a drunk shotgun wedding and possibly regretting it

Honestly, it was only a matter of time till you two hooked up because practically every pro-hero was predicting and talking about it as well as the press

Whenever you were asked if you were Hawks’ boyfriend, you either wouldn’t reply and instead just simply wink or give a really vague answer, which made the press buzz about your possibly relationship with him for months on end

After you became his boyfriend, the amount of jokes about you being with him increased ten fold but you and Hawks enjoy the attention

Even before you got together, whenever villains would try to insult you and him by calling you his boyfriend, you would both often shrug in unison over it

If there was anything to be gained from your relationship with him, other than being Hawks’ boyfriend, it was the attention and money

Attention is something this man eats up and feeds off of so he likes to shake up the media with you at his side, just to get reactions out of people

That’s why soon after you and him became boyfriends, he decided to announce that the two of you are teaming up

Your team up with him is easily makes you two one of the top popular pro-hero duos of the century

Whenever you and him fight bad guys together, news outlets are all over it with coverage of you two kicking ass together

With Hawks at your side, you soon rise in the Hero Billboard Rankings as well

To make yourselves even more marketable, you get matching costumes, come up with combo moves together, and even get little toys made of you and him as a team

Of course, at the end of the day, you and him legitimately love each other and the team up is more about money and fame, but also about saving the world together

Whenever you and him aren’t fighting, you're either at home, chilling in his hero office, or making out on top of a building's roof

Because of the intense media attention, it’s really hard to have a date with Hawks in private

However he always does his best to make it up to you by surprising you with hush hush dinner reservations

At times if it gets especially hard to find privacy, he’ll just straight up set up a roof top dinner date but normally your dates with him are in secluded restaurants were he has a really good relationship with the owner

Expect absolutely nothing but the best from this man when it comes to dating locations, he will show up and show out for you, any time and any where

For instance, if you’re having a root top date with him, it’ll be under a blanket of magnificent midnight stars

He’d also remember your favorite place to go out to eat if you go to a restaurant and make sure that the whole place is empty, just for you and him

He’ll do his best to make up for lost quality time with you, and he’ll make the date all about yourself, your needs, and he’ll also be as intimate as possible with you

After your date with him is done, you two will head home and snuggle together while chilling with the TV on

Eventually falling asleep in his arms while his wings are wrapped around you cozily

To your dismay people still flirt with him in public but he always reminds them that he has a partner and he’s quite happy being with them

The thing about gossip is that there’s also negative kinds as well

A lot of people online talk about how Hawks would be the one to most likely cheat on you in the relationship

However he’s always quick to reassure you that he never would and that you’re all that he needs

If anyone approaches him about it, he’ll simply tell he wouldn’t cheat on you and then procced to go on and on about how much he loves you, how perfect you are, and how lucky he is to even be with you

If someone approaches you however, he’ll inject and make up a playful excuse for why you and him have to leave while walking away with you

At times he admits that he hates the media but he reminds you that you should never let it get to you because those people don’t get to see just how strong your bond truly is with him

Tags: @amourtentiaa @septicbro1005 @cowardlycandy

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kiri-ah · 3 years ago

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Faerie k.hj || Fic

Themes: supernatural AU, I made up my own types of hybrids for this, it’s not going to be accurate to any mythologies, I did use some dungeons and dragons monsters though, fluff, angst, sappy confessions, ✨magic✨, Mingi is a total jerk

Pairing: Faerie!Hongjoong x no pronouns specified Cornu!Reader (a cornu is a human with antelope horns)

Word Count: 8k

Warnings: implied racism against faeries without wings?, reader eats breakfast and drinks coffee (non-graphic), injuries (also not graphic), Hongjoong has mood swings

Taglist: @stayctday , @allegxdly , @kunrengui , @intokook @chweing--gum @heephoria

Summary: You've served some weird folks - it comes with the job of a magical supplies shop owner. But this guy... he's the weirdest you've ever seen. He shies away from people, and barely speaks. Plus the time he ran away from you after you asked him what brand of salve he'd like. You're going to find out what happened to him - and how to make it better. Teaser here.

You hum as you walk around your shop, reorganizing bottles and lining up pendants. Your own charmed necklace glows where it’s tied around the door handle, sending a clear message to anyone wishing to enter: WE’RE NOT OPEN! It’s a pretty handy charm, if you do say so yourself, and it works wonderfully.

The coffee you downed this morning helps your sleep fog clear up like the mist off of the forest out front. A light rain falls down and you can hear it bouncing off of the roof of your two story building. On the bottom floor is your store and workshop, and on the second is your living space. You live a modest life, but you enjoy it immensely. Supernaturals of all shapes and sizes come to you for protection spells, wards, healing poultices and salves, and various other potions and pendants. You have Portunnels set up across the globe for easy access to your secluded area, which you use yourself sometimes if you’re in need of exotic materials. Sometimes, however, people will bring them to you instead of paying money. It equates to the same thing, just saves you the trouble of travelling to various spots to collect plants and metals needed for the products you create. You yourself are a supernatural, a human with antelope horns. You’re referred to as a Cornu, and as much as the horns sometimes annoy you (buying a headboard for your bed was a pain), you love having them. It’s part of you, and you’ve long since learned to duck under door frames and the like.

Once you’re sure that the shop is ready, you take the pendant off of the door handle. The effect is instantaneous: two creatures step out of Portunnels in the courtyard. One looks up to the sky with a sated - almost thrilled - look on their face as they feel the drizzle. The other runs towards the shop, looking terrified. Ah yes, a Murelegus. Crowned with the ears of felines centuries ago by an immensely powerful faerie, Murelegi have developed some abilities like cats and some insist that they’re more cat than human. (Those ones get sent to institutions that take care of them until their shortened lifespan ends.)

The one running into your shop appears to have inherited an intense dislike of rain, which is hilarious until it drips on your floor. Then you’re hurriedly asking if you can cast a drying spell on it. It agrees and you siphon the water off of its body and clothes.

You always have to ask before you cast spells on creatures. Unwilling creatures can reverse the spells, and creatures wearing a protective pendant or charm could knock you out for several hours.

“What’re your pronouns?” you ask once it’s resettled itself. The other visitor is still outside. Based on the complexion, you guess that it’s a vampire.

“Oh, uh, he and him,” the Murelegus mutters.

“Well, sir, welcome to my shop! What can I get for you this morning?”

“My daughter has been dealing with horrible ear aches lately,” he says.

“Does she have human ears or feline ones?”

“She has elf ears.”

“Wow, half elf and half Murelegus? You’re going to want to be careful that she learns to block the input from her feline ears as she grows up so that she doesn’t have concentration problems. I’m sure you remember how confusing that can be, and her elf side will further enhance her hearing.”

He nods as you walk over to your collection of healing products. “Will do, thank you for reminding me.”

You hum in affirmation. “What do you know about these ear aches? Are they caused by blockage of the ears, maybe? Or does she have any other sort of sinus-affecting illness at the moment?”

“We checked her ears and they look fine, no earwax buildup. And she’s not sick.”

“Well,” you say, “Unless I know more of her symptoms, it will be very hard for me to give you anything and say that it will work. Generic human painkillers should work if it’s just pain in the ear, and I suggest that you see a professional doctor if the problem persists.”

You feel bad for the guy, it’s obvious that he has no idea what his daughter is feeling at the moment. At the same time though, you can’t just give him anything and hope it will make her feel better. That’s not how magic works.

“I’ll take her to the doctor, then,” he sighs. “Thank you for your help.”

“No problem! If you find out the cause is magical, I can help with that!” Your voice fades as the door closes behind him with a cheerful little jingle from the bell on top. You hate that bell, but it belonged to your predecessor in the shop, and you’re relatively sure that he would come back from the dead just to berate you if you removed it.

A moment later you’re dragged out of your thoughts by another jingle from the bell, as the pale creature comes in. It’s not a vampire, as you had thought, but a revenant. You don’t even try to take the water off of this creature. You’re fully aware, as are most spellcasters, that rain dulls the terrible fear that a revenant invokes. That explains its happiness with the drizzle.

It opens its mouth, and the first thing it says surprises you. “I’m sorry about your floor.” Its voice is rough and gravelly, definitely a voice of the undead, but you can understand it perfectly. You wonder if perhaps this revenant has given up hunting whoever put it in this state, in order to focus on becoming a member of society. It’s not unheard of, though extremely rare. There’s just something about it that seems less harmful than your average revenant.

“It’s fine,” you say. “I can dry it off later. First of all, what are your pronouns?”

“They and them, please.”

“What can I do for you today?”

“I’d like a protection ward, please, for my nest.”

“How big are we talking?”

“Not very big, about twenty square feet? I live on my own so I don’t need much space.” Rocks shift together in their voice and you nod, walking to your pendant storage.

“The smallest I have in stock is about forty feet,” you tell them after searching through the lines of cords and chains. “I can get a smaller one by next week though, if you’d like that more?”

“Oh, no, that’s fine! Bigger is better, I can expand my nest a little bit.”

“Wonderful.” You hand them the pendant you’ve found, a silver and purple warped charm surrounded with gold wire and attached to a leather cord.

“If you live in a region with fresh buckeyes or black salt available, I would take those for payment,” you tell them. “I’m desperately in need of both right now. If you don’t live in a place where you can get those though, that’ll be thirty rumpits.”

“I can get you buckeyes,” they say.

“Lovely. Let me just write up a receipt for you.”

You pull out a piece of enchanted paper. The trick to writing magical receipts is to always have this sort of paper around. It binds the person who wrote it and the person who received it so that the receiver only forfeits their payment with death. You specify that the buckeyes must be retrieved before a week is up, or the holder is indentured to your service. It’s really not so bad, a week is a long time to harvest a few buckeyes. You hold it out once you’re done and they take it, carefully wrapping thin fingers around the pen you hand them. They sign in a simple script and the ink flashes golden, sealing the contract.

“Thank you for your help,” the revenant calls as they walk out the door. You reply cheerily before sighing at the watery mess on your floor once they’re gone. You’d better clean this up.

☽༓☾

The day passes in a blur of customers and questions, and you find your feet aching at three in the afternoon. Mondays are just so busy. You have two and a half hours left of work and you’re not sure you can make it. The coffee has long since worn off, and there’s no energy spells or potions that you could take without being up till tomorrow morning. You’ll definitely need sleep tomorrow.

As you’re considering the subject, a flash comes from outside. The creature that steps through the Portunnel already has an umbrella out, and it peers up at the sky in confusion when the transfer doesn’t cause the rain to stop. It just shrugs and walks towards the shop. You heave yourself onto your tired feet once more and prepare to act peppy.

As it walks into the shop, you notice something strange about it. There are no horns on it. No deathly pale skin, no giveaway scent of magic. Its jeans don’t have a tail hole, and wings are out of the question with the way its shirt hugs its body. In addition to this, its hair is dyed. Many creatures have naturally changing hair colors or are resistant to the dye, but you can see where its roots are growing out underneath the vibrant red. How did it get here if it’s not a magical creature? You have to bypass those questions as it shakes out its umbrella outside your door and walks in.

“Hello,” you greet it. “Welcome to my shop. What’re your pronouns?”

It appears that this isn’t the question it was expecting, and it pauses for a moment. “He and him, please,” he replies eventually.

“Great, thank you,” you say. “What can I do for you today?”

“I need a protective pendant, one that I can wear under my shirt.”

“What do you need protection from? Just general creatures? Or from something else?”

“From faeries, please.”

You furrow your eyebrows as you return to your stock of protective pendants. You’ll have to make more of the powerful necklaces later, you’re starting to run out. And for that, you need to go rock hunting. A trip to Arizona is in store, it seems. You search for a specific pendant that you recall making not so long ago, one with rose quartz hanging from a hook attached to a golden chain. It provides faerie protection in addition to the usual charms like unwanted spirit repellant. You suppose that faeries are unwanted spirits, but they have too much corporeal form to fit under the umbrella of spirits, according to the best books you have on the subject.

You hand the pendant to him when you find it, and the man shivers a little. Strange. But he doesn’t appear to be in any pain, as a faerie would be from the charms, so you brush it off. Maybe he’s cold. He pays with South Korean Won, and you wish him a pleasant evening before sinking back onto your stool to relieve your aching feet. You consider casting something to dull the pain, but that might loosen up your nerves too far, and you need to walk more today. You just sit instead, eating from your emergency cookie stash behind the counter. Mondays are always so busy, you’ll need to make more cookies as well.

The rest of the day passes without incident, and you close up that night feeling exhausted but happy. The Buckeyes are on their way, you got a solid amount of other items and money besides. The strange man flees your thoughts as you brush your teeth and climb into bed after dinner. He wasn’t that weird anyway.

☽༓☾

The next week he comes in again, and you decide that he is definitely peculiar. He enters the shop and immediately shies away when he sees another person in the room. If he had animal ears, you imagine that they would be flat back on his head. As it is, he just looks terrified. You call out that you’ll be with him in a moment and go back to helping your other customer, a faun. The poor half-goat got his shoulder sliced open pruning a violent bush, and for some reason refuses to go to an actual doctor. Perhaps you should start medical school courses. You’ve heard this narrative many times, actually, where magical creatures are afraid to go to other creatures for help. You don’t know what it is about your shop that draws them in anyway, but you really need to consider learning some new skills if they’re going to keep coming to you for ear aches and wounds that probably need stitches.

You tell the faun as he walks out that he should really go see someone who can stitch his shoulder up, and he does an odd bleating laugh. “I don’t trust them with my life like I do with you!”

Great. No pressure.

You turn to the red-haired man from last week with a smile you hope doesn’t look too forced plastered on your face. “Welcome back, what can I do for you today?”

“I, ah, I need a healing salve?” he says. It sounds more like a question, as though he's not sure himself if he actually needs it, or he’s afraid of needing it. You wonder for a moment if his masculinity has blinded his need to take care of himself, but decide that’s unlikely. He’s in light wash blue jeans, blue boat shoes, and a pastel shirt with mixed pink and purple. He looks far too pretty to want to conform to society’s ancient standards.

“Here’s our selection,” you tell him, walking him over to the racks of healing poultices, salves, and potions. “What’re you needing to heal? I can recommend better products depending on the places you need them for, or what the injury is.”

He gives you a petrified look, turns on his heel, and dashes out of the shop. His sneakers squeak on the hardwood floor as he goes and the bell jingles happily behind him. A moment later he opens the Portunnel back to Incheon, South Korea and disappears.

Totally weird.

☽༓☾

The next Thursday morning you’re out front cleaning up the remains of a passing storm when he steps out in front of you. You look up in surprise (you barely manage to hold in a scared squeak) and meet guilty eyes. Before you can even get your brain to stop thinking about how nice his shirt is (it’s grey and has the deepest v-neck you’ve ever seen on a guy), he bows deeply and speaks.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is softer than you’re heard it before. It’s almost vulnerable. “I didn’t mean to run away, I just got scared.”

You set the broom you’re holding down and lean it against the wall of the shop. The cream paint is starting to get old and peeling, and on top of that the color is faded beneath layers of dirt. It probably hasn’t been cleaned since the last person inhabited the shop, which means it’s been a while. “It’s okay,” you tell the man. “If you don’t want to tell me, I can give you a more general salve, maybe? Maybe for burns or cuts, stuff like that?”

He grimaces. “I think my problem needs a little more intensive care than that.” He rolls his shoulders, seemingly without thinking.

“Okay,” you agree. You try to keep your tone even as you internally scream questions about what on earth is wrong with him. “I’ll need to let you into my shop manually since I have the pendant still up. What's your name?”

“It’s Hongjoong,” he says. “Kim Hongjoong.”

“Cool. I’m Y/N.” You focus on removing the wards around your shop with just Hongjoong and yourself allowed inside. It’s an unfortunately difficult process, but you get it done and bring him inside. “Do you need a chair to sit on, or a table to lay on?”

“A stool, maybe?” He swallows nervously. “I’ll uh, need to take my shirt off though.” His shoulders roll again and you wonder if that’s what’s bothering him.

“That’s fine, I’ve had to treat injuries in more unsavory places.” You shudder a little as you remember various creatures who assumed that it would be fine to just shuck their pants off in front of you, and one particularly memorable satyr who had messed up a spell on his own pelvis on purpose so he had to take off his boxers. You had told him to get out or you'd call your friend the viper. (You didn’t have a viper, but he had been scared enough to leave and not come back.) There was also a faerie with surprisingly large boobs that she’d thrust in your face, demanding a breast cancer check. You had, as politely as you could, told her that you didn’t offer that service.

Hongjoong gives you a hesitant smile, sits on the stool you bring him, and lifts the hem of his shirt from where it’s tucked into the front of dark wash jeans. The fabric billows around him as he sheds the shirt and lays it on your stool gently.

He’s not buff in the traditional sense. His pecs don’t bulge and you can see his ribs through his skin a bit, but somehow he still strikes you as strong, and he’s just pretty all over. His skin is pale and unblemished, and he stands with the sort of timid uncertainty that makes you want to hug him. You don’t though, and you try to keep your voice even when you speak.

“I don’t see any injuries. What’s the issue?”

He looks up at you and there’s pure vulnerability in his eyes. He looks absolutely terrified of something, maybe you. “On- on my back.” He exhales heavily as you walk around to better see it. He has two white pads placed haphazardly across his back, apparently hiding an injury. You gently lift them up, trying to get the sticky parts off without hurting him too much. You can’t help the gasp that comes out when you uncover his shoulder blades. Feeble gossamer strings remain where wings appear to once have been. The skin around where the wings should connect to his back is all scar tissue, red and puffy.

You suddenly understand why he was so scared to reveal something like this. Faeries in his state are powerless, their magic stripped away with their wings. Whatever hurt him this badly stole his entire identity, and his place in society with it.

Hongjoong shifts unhappily in front of you and you realize the last thing you did was gasp at him. He probably expects you to push him away in disgust, him a wingless faerie. “How do they look?”

You answer his question with a question of your own. “How long have you been suffering through this?” He hums a little.

“About two weeks? It happened a few days before I came into your shop for the first time. That’s why I wanted something to protect myself with, since I lost…” His voice trails off unhappily. Your head fills in the rest: since I lost my magic.

“Well,” you say, “considering that they’ve been without proper care for that long, they’re in great condition. But it’s not pretty back here.” He nods a little and rolls his shoulders again.

“Is there anything you can do for me?”

“I definitely can’t get them back, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you tell him bluntly. “I don’t have that sort of power, and I don’t know of anyone that does, beyond powers I don’t dare interact with.”

He nods again. “I expected that. But can you help the swelling go down, maybe? Clean up the injury?”

“That I can do. If you feel comfortable telling me, how did you lose them?” He shivers as you run a gentle finger around the scar tissue.

“Accident with a manticore. I was on her land without realizing it, and she wasn’t happy about it. She said something like ‘if you steal my dignity, I steal yours,’ and then… well. Wings aren’t meant to come off.”

You hum and walk over to your collection of healing elements. “Listen,” you say. “What happened was very traumatising. For you and your muscle tissue. It’s going to take a lot of time and effort to heal them. It would be best for you to come every day, so that I can put salve on and make sure nothing is too messy in there. You might already have an infection.” Hongjoong rolls his shoulders again.

“I can do that, it’s not like I have a job anymore, or a life.” His voice is bitter. “I don’t fit in without my wings.” You come back with a basic salve for infections and open wounds and open the cap, setting it on the counter.

“You could come work for me? I need some help around here,” you offer as you warm up some of the cream on the tips of your fingers. “By the way, this may hurt, so if it puts you in too much pain you have to tell me to stop, alright?”

“Okay. And about working for you… I’ll think about it. I don’t really want to be around other creatures until I’m healed up a bit more.”

“That’s fine. Whatever you’re ready for and whenever you’re ready for it.” You take the salve and smear it messily across the scar tissue and open areas of the wounds. Hongjoong hisses but doesn’t tell you to stop, so you carefully rub the shimmering gel into his shoulder blades, making sure to coat as much as you can. When you get to the remaining few strands of his wings, though, he screams.

“Not there, please,” he grits out once he’s calmed his breathing slightly. His voice is high with pain and you use your clean hand to gently rub his back as he pants. His skin is warm under your skin and you wonder if that’s a side effect of an infection or just his normal temperature.

“Sorry. I should have assumed that those spots would be sensitive.” He just nods in response, muscles tense. You carefully put your hand on his back once more and he stays tense, on edge. “I think we should stop here,” you say after a moment. “I’m not sure there’s much more I can do for you today, other than keep you upright so that the salve doesn’t get all over your bed or clothes.”

He nods again and rolls his shoulders. You think for a second. It’s only a few minutes before opening, and he needs to stay somewhere safe for at least ten minutes to keep the salve on his skin and not on any other surfaces. Obviously he can’t sit in your main shop room, or face other creatures, which means he needs to either stay in your shop’s back room (not great cover, easily seen and smelled, from the right angles) or go upstairs to your living space. Neither is a very good option, but you can’t send him out into the forest shirtless with unhealed faerie wing wounds on his back.

“Hongjoong?”

“Hmm?”

“How comfortable are you with going up to stay in my flat for a bit, to make sure the salve soaks in properly?”

He twists around on the stool to look at you, then yelps as the skin on his back is pulled taut and moves his waist instead. “You want me to go hang out in your house by myself?”

He sounds incredulous with a side of strange pride, and you wonder what you’re getting yourself into as you say, “Yes? Well no, but that’s better than having you in this front room where all of my customers will see you.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense. How do I get up there?”

“There are stairs in the back room,” you tell him, pointing at the door. “Please don’t touch anything with your back, okay? I don’t want any of that getting wiped off. And take your shirt. I’ll add the money for the salve and the service to your tab. You can pay me once you’re fully healed.”

He gets an odd blanched look on his face, but you choose to ignore it for the time being. “Right,” he says. “I’ll be careful.” You watch as he disappears up the steps and into your home. You hope he has the good sense to not touch anything. After putting away the salve and the stool and washing your hands, you write the money he now owes you onto a notepad and put it on a shelf under the cash register. Lastly, you take a deep breath. It’s going to be a long day, you can tell already.

You take the pendant off the door.

☽༓☾

Every day after that before opening, Hongjoong walks into your store. You’ve permanently adjusted the protections around it to let him in, and he spends more and more time in your space. The redness and irritation has gone down around his wounds, although the few stands still poking out of his skin have been a bother. You can’t find a way to get rid of them without causing him extreme pain, so they may be there forever. You don’t know. It seems cruel to leave them lying against his back like this, a gossamer reminder of what used to be.

Over time he’s stopped rolling his shoulders, presumably because the irritation has stopped. He’s also started learning to live without his wing-given magic. The meekness he came to you with has all but disappeared, but thankfully his ego isn’t as inflated as most faeries’ are. He still listens to your instructions, at least, and that’s more than most faeries would. You suppose that since the faerie part of him is gone (at least physically), he’ll stay somewhat down to earth. You hope so.

On this particular morning a week later, he’s biting his lip to keep from hissing in pain as you rub garlic paste across his wounds. Garlic is good for natural, human-like healing, and the wounds are starting to heal enough that it’s safe. You’ll have to wrap him in gauze to keep the garlic in place, and it’s clear that he’s not looking forward to it. His arms are hesitant as they raise to allow the fabric, and he keeps flinching.

“How long do I have to keep this on for?” he demands.

“Two days,” you tell him. “So you don’t have to come in tomorrow. The day we take this batch off we have to put on new garlic though, and we might have to keep up that cycle for a while, depending on how the holes start to look.”

He winces. “Are they really that bad?”

“Honestly? Yes. Your skin just can’t go back to how it was before. You’ll probably have scar tissue here around some divots for the rest of your life.”

He groans unhappily.

“This isn’t new information,” you say, confused. Why is he just now reacting so negatively?

“I was holding onto some hope,” he mutters. “That I might be able to live as a human. But with strings on my back and holes to match, I don't think that'll work out.”

“Why? It’s not like anyone will look.”

“What if someone asks me to take my shirt off?” His shoulders slump. “I’m a freak.”

“You went through something traumatic,” you say. “That doesn’t make you a freak.”

“Easy for you to say, you have literal horns. You fit in.” He rolls his eyes before his tone changes to something smaller. “Oh, and another thing,” he mutters, “I can’t pay you anything. I wasn’t sure when I would have the guts to tell you but I guess now is as good a time as any. I spent all I had left on that protective pendant the first day I came. The rest was stolen by my supposed friends when I lost my wings. I couldn’t fight back.”

Your first reaction is anger - he’s been silent about this the whole time? You can’t take back all of the time and resources you’ve spent on him. The next is shame - you wouldn’t take it back if you could, every creature in need deserves help. Every single one. Especially cute ones who let you call them Joongie. The third is a tired sort of acceptance that you suppose comes from a place of knowing that it sucks, but there's not much that you can do about it. The last is pity. He’s known this whole time that he’d have to tell you eventually, and he’s also known that he’d have to ask for your forgiveness. Plus, the money he had was stolen, he didn’t squander it. This wasn’t a choice based on pride, but helplessness. You can relate to that.

You sigh as you continue wrapping the gauze around his back.

“Maybe you don’t have money, Joong, but I can’t just give you all of this stuff for free,” you tell him. You glance at the clock - ten minutes till opening.

“How am I supposed to pay you without money?”

“Well, I already asked you to come work for me. I could teach you how to make pendants or something out of my healing stock, or you could go collect ingredients for me from across the globe, or you could contribute your own magical knowledge to my shop and make your own product, to slowly earn back on your bill.”

He hums quietly. “I can try to make pendants. I do have some magic knowledge, of course, but most of what I knew was based on my wings, and the natural abilities that come from them.” He swallows, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob. “Not much of that would come in handy with other types of supernatural or humans.”

“Then how about this? You’ll become my employee and earn back on your dues, and you can tell me everything you remember about faerie magic so that I can serve them better.”

“Sure, I can do that. I think.”

“Great. Go home and rest, you start tomorrow. Be careful of your wounds.”

“Okay.” He walks out of the store, the bell jingling cheerily behind him. His head is down.

☽༓☾

Hongjoong isn’t the most willing of employees. It’s not that he isn’t good at his job, easy as it is, but he doesn’t want to be there, and you can feel it every time you’re around him. Any time a customer walks into the store, he tenses up and sucks in a breath that you can hear from the front room. He sits in the back for the most part, stringing charms onto pendants and occasionally writing tidbits he remembers about his faerie powers down in a notebook he keeps near him all the time now that he’s working. He’s always on edge, as though he’s waiting for someone to come in and ransack the place looking for him. After what he’s gone through it isn’t surprising, but you think that the sharp gasps coming from the back room are a bigger indicator of his presence than anything else.

One day another faerie comes in and you gasp in your own breath. Many faeries don’t come around here, they’re far too haughty to use magical items made by other beings, so it’s a shock to say the least. He looks like he just came off the set of a photoshoot, makeup in place and hair falling over his forehead in a way that’s too perfect. It’s the sort of thing that makes you want to trust him immediately, this beauty, and yet your brain knows that you need to snap out of it. The faerie grins.

“I need your abilities,” he announces to the room at large. His voice is deep, and luscious, and that shouldn’t surprise you because he’s a faerie, but somehow it does.

You grimace anyway, because of the words. It’s one of those faeries. The kind that speaks as though they own the world; the kind that never asks for help unless they are completely incapable of doing it themselves. “What can I help you with?”

“I need an enchanted mirror.”

You’re not sure what to reply. You don’t sell enchanted mirrors - you never have. But if you tell him that… well. You don’t want to disappoint him; you can practically feel Hongjoong’s fear from the back room, attuned to his anxious breaths. You have to get through this.

“I’m not sure who told you about my shop,” you say carefully, “but I think you may have been misinformed. I don’t work in enchanted mirrors, really. If you need a healing balm or pendant of some sort, I can assist with that?”

“Not you,” he huffs. “The one in the back.”

You freeze. How are you meant to react to that? There isn’t supposed to be someone in your back room, let alone another faerie, a fallen faerie. You settle on the truth. “I don’t think that he specializes in mirrors either, he hasn’t mentioned it to me.”

“Is that so?” He raises an eyebrow (how are even those perfect?) and smirks. “Hongjoong? I know you’re in there, Hyung. You can’t hide any longer. I require your services.”

Hongjoong walks out hesitantly from the back room, half of his body still behind the door frame and all of him poised to run. His voice is unhappy when he speaks. “Mingi.” For some reason he throws an unhappy look your way before refocusing on the faerie - Mingi, his name was. “You know better than anyone that I’ve lost my magic.” He looks defiant, but he also has to look up towards Mingi’s face because of his height, so some of the effect is lost.

“Yes, I do. You can still be of service, though.” His face takes on a cruel smile. “Certainly you can find somewhere better for someone such as yourself than making pendants. Maybe emptying dumpsters? That’s more fitting, don’t you think?”

Hongjoong flushes deeply, the color highlighting his cheekbones and spreading to his ears. His eyes flash with anger, though, not embarrassment. “How dare you-”

“How dare I?” Mingi laughs, a cold sound. It sucks the life out of your shop until it’s just him and Hongjoong. “I’m not the one who lost my wings, am I? That’s all you. You’re the one who condemned yourself.”

“I did not condemn myself. I seem to recall that it was you who sent me into manticore territory without warning me of the manticore that lived there. By that logic it stands that you’re the one who should be collecting rubbish.”

“Sure.” Mingi’s tone is patronizing, and the smile is back, one that shows off his teeth and makes him look even more intimidating than he already did. “Well I just wanted to drop in and see how you were doing, Hyung.” Hongjoong’s eyes flash at the title and you see his hand twitch where it’s curled into a fist at his side. Mingi steps towards the door of your shop and leaves with a wave, the bell dinging happily. You want to punch the innocent metal.

You turn back to Hongjoong and are surprised to see him glaring at you now. “How did he know I was here?”

“I don’t know,” you say honestly.

“Really? You didn’t, for instance, invite him in? Tell him where I was?”

“Hongjoong, I get all sorts of magical creatures here. I can’t block out every faerie in existence. And no, I didn’t tell him. That makes no sense.”

His eyes are suddenly glistening with unshed tears, and you take a step closer to him. He takes a step backwards to keep the space between you the same distance. “That’s fine,” he chokes out. “Blame it on me. I’m the senseless one. You’re no better than he is.”

“Hongjoong!” You can’t believe what you’re hearing. You took him in, healed him, gave him a job, and he’s now accusing you of being as haughty and mean as his old friend Mingi? The one who waltzed into your shop solely to patronize your only employee? “I’m not trying to blame you! I just don’t want to be held accountable for something I had no hand in.”

He nods, oozing sarcasm. “Right. Well, if I’m really so easy to find, you can come get me tomorrow. I quit.” He walks quickly towards the door with his apron still on. There are bandage bumps under his shirt where the gauze is wrapped around him.

You chase after him as he breaks into a run. He’s heading towards one of the Portunnels, the one leading to Incheon South Korea. “Joong!” He turns around right in front of the Portunnel. This is your one chance. “Joong, please come back! I don’t know how to convince you, but I truly didn’t invite Mingi or any other faeries here! I didn’t even know his name when he walked in.”

He looks straight into your eyes as the shimmery silver-purple Portunnel glimmers behind him. “I can’t take that chance.”

He’s gone a moment later, and you know that even if you followed him though that you’d never be able to catch him. Portunnels are good for travel, and they’re good for escapes. They take every person to a different location within the five kilometers that their reach extends to, depending on the person’s preferences. There’s just no way that you could get to him in time. Besides that, he’s made his choice. He doesn’t want to be around you. That’s very clear.

You sigh and go back into the shop. A moment later, another creature steps through. You help her before closing the shop early. You need time to yourself. You won’t try to find him, like he suggested you try. You truly don’t know how to work locating spells on things that aren’t objects, and you don’t want to try something so complex on someone you still care for.

You thought, for some reason, that the bond between you and Hongjoong was stronger. Of course, you had never considered this situation before, but you felt like it should have gone better. When Hongjoong had come to you, he had been close to permanently injuring his back worse than he already had, or worse, getting a deadly infection. You had cleaned him up and taken care of him for weeks, not to mention the job. You had spent many an afternoon with him discussing the properties of magic and other topics. You had discovered that he loved to make music, and he learned about your upbringing by your old master. You had some sort of connection - or so you thought. Apparently his fear was greater than that, and you tried to understand, but it was hard. As an orphan and a student of magic under a single teacher, it wasn’t like you had many friends. The ones you did have were mostly work connections that you talked to outside of your supply runs. You couldn’t imagine being so dependent on a few people that they could break you.

A few days later while lying awake thinking about him again, though, you realized that maybe that wasn’t so true anymore. You missed him far more than you had ever missed any of your other friends.

You keep the shop closed for a few more days, keeping yourself carefully shut off from society as you process Hongjoong’s leaving and the feelings you think you may or may not have developed for him. For most of it you just stay in your flat upstairs, not willing to go down into the back room unless you have to. It retains traces of him that you don’t want to have to see.

Eventually though, you have to get up and reopen the shop. You realize that, and every time you think about it you groan a little. Dealing with other sentient beings sounds so tiring right now. You say so to your sage plant, and then smile wryly. Maybe you do need to interact with other people, if the only thing you’re talking to is a potted sage.

☽༓☾

When you do open the shop, an immediate influx of customers come in, one after another. Some know exactly what they want, grab it off of the shelf, and pay. Others need more specific items that you have to find yourself, or some sort of advice. Still others don’t have money and have to pay with sourced ingredients of some kind.

It’s an exhausting day. You go to sleep that night aware that you’re lucky to have escaped any probing questions, and that you need to get some north-growing moss. Past that, there are no thoughts in your very tired brain.

The next morning you wake up early for some reason and squint at the light coming in around your blinds. There’s a sound from downstairs, but you ignore it. It doesn’t sound like anything is in there, more like a bird is hopping around or building a nest outside. You’ll go look later. For the time being, you get up and get dressed, tugging on something cozy to make up for the lost sleep. You make a morning coffee and food and start eating when you hear another sound from downstairs. This one definitely can’t pass as a bird outside. It’s a creature downstairs. You feel a bolt of fear run through you. Anything powerful enough to get through your wards without alerting you could kill you in a second or less.

You put down your coffee mug and carefully open the door at the top of the stairs to the back room. You can’t see anything from there, so you edge slowly down said stairs until the whole room is available to you. There’s nobody there, and nothing appears to have been disturbed. It’s a little strange that a magical creature wouldn’t come raid your stores first thing, but you suppose it’s probably not in any rush. You know that if it wants to it can take over the shop fairly quickly.

You walk - well, it’s really more of a scamper - over to the open doorway between the front room and this one. You peer inside, ready to find a magician of some kind or even a more powerful spirit. Instead you’re met with a strangely familiar head of red hair, a mottled gray shirt over black pants. You’ve memorized that outfit, the man inhabiting it at the moment. You know immediately that this is your Joongie… but why is he here?

It does explain how he got in without triggering your protections - you never altered them to keep him out again. It makes something twinge in your heart, and you realize that you never wanted to keep him out.

“Joong?” you whisper into the silence, and he jumps, dropping whatever he’s holding. It looks sort of like a pen.

“You’re up,” he says. “I didn’t think you would be yet.”

“I wasn’t supposed to be.”

“Did I wake you up?”

“Yeah, I think so.” You shuffle forward to see what he’s doing and spot a hastily scrawled note - you were right, he was holding a pen - and a collection of a dried purple flower that you think is hyacinth. Hongjoong steps back as he finishes writing the letter and you move closer to read it.

Y/N,

I’ve never written something like this before, which I suppose is sort of a mark of how far I’ve come since before I lost my wings, but please forgive any mistakes because I’m not sure how to structure this.

Before my meeting with the manticore, I probably never would have come to your shop. I was far too full of myself and sure of my own magic to come to you or anyone else for help. Since getting to know you, though, I’ve learned to care about other people in addition to myself. It’s been a startling change, and I can see it in myself as clearly as the moon can see the Earth. I guess that’s why I’m writing this in the first place. I want you to know how truly sorry I am that I doubted you. I realized over these few days that what I did, what I accused you of, was wrong. I also realized that I don’t want to be separate from you. Parting is painful, and I don’t want to ever suffer through it again.

Over these days we were apart, I found this purple hyacinth, and it struck me what you had said about it being helpful for eczema. Only afterwards did I discover on the internet that they also symbolize regret. How fitting. They also symbolize forgiveness, and I hope you’ll take these flowers back along with me, and that you won’t hate me for all that I did.

With love,

Your Joongie

There’s an abrupt streak across the paper, presumably from when you walked in and scared him. It makes you laugh a little and Hongjoong smiles hopefully. You look up at him when you’re finished. He pulls his apron out from somewhere, and holds his arms open a little bit. You walk forward and hug him tightly, purposefully trying to squeeze the air out of him. It works - he’s gasping a little when you lean back. His arms are soft against your own back and you smile a little.

“That’s for scaring me and comparing me to Mingi.”

“Fair.”

You just look up at him for a moment, at his sharp nose and the cracks in his lips where he’s forgotten chapstick. His beautiful skin and his soft eyes. He’s gorgeous, even without the magical influence that other faeries have from their wings.

Over the next few weeks, he comes back and starts being that much more confident for some reason. Mingi doesn’t come back, and you revel in the time with your Joongie. There’s still that little disconnect, though, because you’re not sure if he’s really here for good. Everything seemed fine last time, too, before Mingi came to ruin everything. You can tell that it tears Hongjoong up inside though, knowing exactly how it feels to not-quite trust someone - even if both parties desperately want to. He eventually moves in with you, and you expand your apartment because it’s just too small for two people to live in, even if he doesn’t own too many personal items. (Yet.)

He gradually fills in those spaces in your home and person where you used to feel your loneliness acutely, and you realize one day with a start that you can’t imagine life without him anymore. His gentle hums in the shop, the unique additions he puts on pendants, the way he always goes to get you ingredients when you need them so that you can keep the shop open all day. The way he’ll cuddle you when you’re tired but don’t want to be alone. Living without him would be so much lonelier than before, and you can’t imagine such a void within you.

So he stays. You don’t expressly tell him about these revelations, but you think he knows. There’s something about the way he holds you that says I know, and I want the same future. It feels like you’ve known him all your life, and when you sit at the kitchen bar to have dinner together, you know what he wants to drink without asking. He always remembers which pair of chopsticks you like most, even though he teases you endlessly. (“They’re all the same!” “No they’re not!”) You’re not sure if he’ll ever want to work out in the front room with you, but his injuries are all healed now, and all that’s left are the divots in his back where the skin didn’t quite grow back. Maybe he’ll work up the courage some day, but until then, it’s fine for him to just be near you. It’s enough.

End.

I'm begging you - please leave a comment or reblog with something in the tags! It's super unmotivating to get no interaction on a fic :/

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testudoaubrei-blog · 4 years ago

Text

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

#she ra horde prime #she ra #she ra catra #she ra spoilers #redemption arcs #toxic religion

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