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renee-writer · 6 months

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They hate America and the West.

That is the common thread uniting radical college students with terrorist members of Hamas. It is why we see marches by “Queers for Palestine,” despite the fact that queers would summarily be murdered in any “Palestine.”

Their differences don’t matter.

They are, in the words of radical revolutionary author Frantz Fanon, “The Wretched of the Earth,” rising up to smite the hierarchies of power.

In 1961, Fanon, a black radical member of the Algerian National Liberation Front, put forth a shockingly violent treatise calling for the revolution of the colonized. Pointing out the evils of colonial administration, Fanon didn’t merely call for the end of colonialism, a la Gandhi. Instead, he called for violence, which he saw as purifying, in all of its varied forms. His book, “The Wretched of the Earth,” posited that revolutionary violence would usher in The New Man, free of the evils of the West.

“Decolonization,” he wrote, “is always a violent event.”

“Decolonization,” he wrote, “which sets out to change the order of the world, is clearly an agenda for total disorder.”

“In its bare reality,” Fanon wrote, “decolonization reeks of red-hot cannonballs and bloody knives.”

Violence. Disorder. Bloody knives.

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That’s the essence of Fanon’s decolonization. The colonized must take everything from the colonizer in the name of restoring himself as a human being. Fanon writes, “The gaze that the colonized subject casts at the colonist’s sector is a look of lust, a look of envy. Dreams of possession. Every type of possession: of sitting at the colonist’s table and sleeping in his bed, preferably with his wife. The colonized man is an envious man.”

Colonialism justifies any response. In fact, it requires any response.

The West must be destroyed, for the West has colonized: “When the colonized hear a speech on Western culture they draw their machetes or at least check to see they are close at hand,” Fanon says.

Such hatred of colonial power was at least somewhat understandable in Algeria. But Fanon wasn’t making the case for revolutionary violence merely in Algeria. He was making the case for revolutionary violence everywhere.

The man who made that clear was existentialist and Marxist Jean-Paul Sartre, the French intellectual. Sartre’s introduction to Fanon’s “The Wretched of the Earth” makes the case not only that the colonized have an ultimate right to violence, but also that the entire West must be collapsed from within for its great sins. Violence, says Sartre, “is man reconstructing himself … killing a European is killing two birds with one stone, eliminating in one go oppressor and oppressed: leaving one man dead and the other man free.” The only honorable thing for the West to do is join in on its cultural suicide: “You who are so liberal, so humane, who take the love of culture to the point of affectation, you pretend to forget that you have colonies where massacres are committed in your name,” writes Sartre. “Fanon reveals to his comrades — especially to those who remain a little too Westernized — the solidarity of the metropolitans with their colonial agents.”

Sartre says he has carried Fanon’s “dialectic through to its conclusion: we, too, peoples of Europe, we are being decolonized: meaning the colonist inside every one of us is surgically extracted in a bloody operation.” We must recognize we are all complicit in “a thousand-year-old oppression. … Our beloved values are losing their feathers; if you take a closer look there is not one that isn’t tainted with blood.” How do we recover? By joining in the violence against our own civilization: “Violence, like Achilles’ spear, can heal the wounds it has inflicted.”

And how can we tell the enemy? Simply by attacking the powerful.

The colonizers are the powerful; the colonized are the powerless.

Therefore, the powerful must be colonizers and the powerless their victims. This is how, for example, Israel — the ultimate case of decolonization in human history, after the return of a native population to its homeland and its battle to throw off the shackles of the British Empire — became today’s hottest “decolonization” cause.

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Sartre’s radical call has been taken up sporadically, both at home and abroad. As critical theorist Homi Bhabha points out in his Foreword to Fanon’s book, the Black Panthers found inspiration in Fanon. So did the Iranian Revolution that ended with the rise of the mullahs: those revolutionaries transmuted Fanon’s distinction between oppressor and oppressed into a distinction between “the arrogant” and “the weakened,” translating Fanon’s Marxist-tinged radicalism into radical Islamism.

But the coalition of Fanon’s “The Wretched of the Earth” could not materialize until the generation of Sartre came to full maturity, until the institutions of the West poisoned themselves slowly with the imbecilic suicidality of weakness. The West remained strong enough to fend off the radical alliance when it faced down the Soviet Union. But then it had nothing to stand for.

And so it began to fall.

Fast forward 60 years, and Sartre’s radicalism has now become a mass movement — a movement uniting Hamas and campus radicals, the far-Left, and the terrorists.

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Cornel West, the black Marxist radical, calls Fanon “the greatest revolutionary intellectual of the mid-20th century.” According to West, “he compels us to acknowledge colonialism is a sustained barbaric war waged against colonized people sanctioned by Western values.” What’s more, colonialism isn’t a far from home problem — it means the West must be completely demolished. “For Fanon,” West says, “revolutionary internationalism — anti-imperialist, anti-capitalist, anti-colonialist, anti-patriarchal, and anti-white-supremacist — yields a new humanism that puts a premium on the psychic, social, and political needs of poor and working peoples — a solidarity and universality from below.” Explains West: “In our present-day moment of imperial decay and capitalist decrepitude … the spirit of Fanon is most manifest in my American imperialist context in the revolutionary internationalist wings of the Black Lives Matter Movement and the Palestinian Lives Matter movement aligned with the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions effort.”

The coalition is complete. The alliance of the supposedly marginalized march together, arm in arm, toward the destruction of the West — and particularly, the United States. After all, the United States, even according to Fanon in 1961, had become the chief colonizer thanks to its power: “Two centuries ago, a former European colony took into its heads to catch up with Europe. It has been so successful that the United States of America became a monster where the flaws, sickness, and inhumanity of Europe have reached frightening proportions.”

The alliance to destroy the West spans the globe. And it’s right here at home, too, threatening everything we stand for. If decolonization is merely a code word for attacking “the powerful” and the systems that supposedly sustain them, then “Queers for Palestine” begins to make a lot of sense. That’s why the same people caterwauling over the use of the wrong pronoun celebrate the burning of babies. As Washington Post writer Karen Attiah recently retweeted after the slaughter of 1,500 Jewish civilians, “What did y’all think decolonization meant? Vibes? Papers? Essays? Losers.”

She might be evil, but she isn’t wrong.

Ben Shapiro

Editor Emeritus,

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steelcitygirlreviews · 9 months

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REVIEW: Theatre Ancaster's CABARET: A Powerhouse Production

Dark. Brooding. Atmospheric. As the audience entered the vast auditorium of Theatre Ancaster, there was an immediate sense of something forbidden and enticing we were about to witness. That feeling that we were privy to a seedy club where we could leave our troubles behind and watch beautiful people dance, entertain and enrapture us for a few hours. How right these feelings were and also, how foolish to think that’s all we were about to witness.

The magnificent orchestra welcomes us with a coy vamp as eccentric and scantily clad performers of the infamous Kit Kat Klub take the stage. Our Master of Ceremonies (Emcee) beams at the audience like they have a very dirty secret and they can’t wait to tell us: Welcome to the Cabaret. You aren’t ready for what we have to show you.

Once I saw the diversity, body positivity, vocal prowess and cast of characters who were dripping with sensuality and giving it their all in the first ten minutes, I knew that this show was going to be something very special.

Director Nupi Gokhale explained the importance of socially responsible theatre especially in our current political climate. Why Cabaret? Why does this particular musical still resonate so much when its subject matter is about Depression Era Germany? Look carefully and open any legitimate news source and you’ll see why. The themes of sexuality, political discourse, heinous acts of hatred, poverty and deciding whether or not to be unaffected or to escape (if your privilege allows) are as relevant now as they were almost a hundred years ago. That speaks volumes to the lasting impact of Cabaret and why it has been so successful throughout its long musical theatre history. The entire production team, under the skillful and precise direction of Gokhale, understood this and ensured the audience would never forget it.

Back to the show itself. Our Emcee is performed by the incredible Riley Daniel Macnab who is commanding, coy and in absolute control in the first act. Macnab watches gleefully with just a touch of playful malice throughout every scene, even when they are not the focal point. A talented dancer with a phenomenal tenor voice, Macnab wowed audiences in the first act especially in the opening number Willkommen, Two Ladies (joined by equally impressive ensemble members and a see-saw in a gender-bent romp on stage and through the audience), Money and then broke them in the second act with numbers such as I Don’t Care Much and of course, the dissonant and chilling Finale. Their dehumanization was displayed so powerfully that by the end of the show, I was in tears (and I do not cry publicly). An absolute powerhouse performance.

Our other leads and supporting characters also showcase impressive amounts of talent. Our lost and aspiring writer, thrown into a world he doesn’t quite understand, Cliff Bradshaw is portrayed by Owen Lapsley who not only acts as the audience’s counterpart throughout but Lapsley also designed the immense and stunning set pieces and was involved in several other aspects of the show’s overall production. Lapsley is very well cast here with a great understanding for the nuances in his performance and explores his sexuality in a way that respects queerness, especially by today’s standards.

His complete opposite is the charismatic, manic and breathtaking Giselle Magie as Sally Bowles. In a refreshing change, Magie does not emulate the Sally Bowles of the past (Minelli, Richardson) but captivates us with her unique interpretation of Sally’s naivety, hopeful vulnerability, lust for life and complete desperation by the time she performs the eleven o’clock number and title song Cabaret. Magie was meant for the stage and this role cements that. Her dynamic and chemistry with Lapsley is believable but ultimately, tenuous. Their romance in the second act is shattered by the dramatic turn of events and how Sally’s clinging to the past will ultimately bring her demise. Both performances at the end are heartbreaking and deserved every moment of applause from the audience.

Continuing through our cast of characters are the slightly more subdued but realistic characters of doomed couple Fraulein Schneider (performed by Laura Almeida) and Herr Schulz (performed by Bailey Robb). These two exude endearing charm and a sweet romance in songs like Couldn’t Please Me More and Married. These moments are then crushed by the growing threats surrounding them. Their story is less flashy but is absolutely gut-wrenching as Schneider belts out about needing to survive even if it means sacrificing her love in What Would You Do? Powerful stuff.

Finally, I would be completely remiss to not give the highest praise to the supporting cast and phenomenal ensemble and crew. Fraulein Kost (Andrea Bairdado) is a delightful wench with beautiful solo moments in Married and Tomorrow Belongs to Me (reprise). Herr Ernst (Rylie Santo) is a carefully constructed and fist-clenching villain. The ensemble is jaw-droppingly impressive with their deep respect to Fosse and the precise choreography that made the movie version so memorable (their staging of Mein Herr was perfection). There are even unexpected moments of acrobatics, ballet and tap throughout. It is very sensual, raunchy and the amount of trust these dancers place in one another is incredible. Their vocals added chills to numbers such as Tomorrow Belongs to Me (both versions) and the combined efforts of cast and crew ensured every set piece was moved quickly and despite a few snags, very effectively. The entire production should be proud of all their efforts in bringing this show to the stage.

If it wasn’t obvious by now, Cabaret has a deep significance in my life. I have seen numerous productions over the years and each one (including one I stage managed in 2008), has a special place in my heart. The story, the music/lyrics, the politics, and the showmanship are just a few reasons why this show is as successful as it is. It carries with it a history that refuses to be forgotten and each interpretation of the show has gravitas and weight that will stay with an audience long after the lights snap out on stage. I cannot stress how much audiences need to experience the joys and heartbreaks of Theatre Ancaster’s Cabaret. I feel compelled to see it at least once more during its run. Go to the Cabaret, old chums. Life is truly a cabaret.

For tickets and more information, please visit: https://theatreancaster.com/shows/cabaret/

#hamiltonontario theatre #theatreancaster #cabaret musical

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frankchurchillsaysrelax · 1 year

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I posted 3,183 times in 2022

That's 504 more posts than 2021!

387 posts created (12%)

2,796 posts reblogged (88%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@ponyregrets

@gilbertandanne

@chewbacca

@octobermidnight

@ttimbradford

I tagged 3,070 of my posts in 2022

Only 4% of my posts had no tags

#bridgerton - 304 posts

#stranger things - 299 posts

#it me - 148 posts

#wheeze - 138 posts

#euphoria - 117 posts

#mcu - 104 posts

#polin - 100 posts

#steve harrington - 77 posts

#roswell new mexico - 76 posts

#kathony - 72 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#but i like to imagine the look on the ton’s face when they are promenading and see colin ‘most charming man in ton’ bridgerton stroll up in

My Top Posts in 2022:

PIXAR. IS. NOT. DISNEY.

to all of those parents saying that disney has betrayed them by making such an inappropriate movie, disney animation studios did not create this film. pixar notoriously puts out films that are not just for kids. adults have been loving their work for years and pixar knows this. now, there is nothing wrong or inappropriate about the subject matter of turning red, but it’s also not targeted toward four year olds who are going to demand merch so they can storm disney world dressed as their favorite character. pixar movies are often coming of age stories and turning red is one of their most authentic ones. some parents are less focused on the subject matter and are angry about the depiction of a child daring to defy their parents. to them i say: one, you clearly don’t remember your own childhood accurately and two, what pixar movies have you been watching all these years?? nemo defied his father and wound up being kidnapped for it. remi defied his father and became a world famous chef. russell defied his elder and wound up being integral to carl’s survival. merida defied her mother and in doing so changed her kingdom for the better. riley stole her mom’s credit card, miguel lied to his entire family, luca snuck up to the surface, and there are probably other examples i’m forgetting. pixar has been doing this for years and if you have a problem with turning red then you have a problem with pixar not disney. you also have a problem with reality but i can tell you to avoid pixar films in the future easier than unpacking all of that right now.

601 notes - Posted March 15, 2022

i cannot. sirs please.

894 notes - Posted August 5, 2022

this just in: queen not actually dead. all an elaborate ruse for ultimate british empire expansion. more at 11:00.

918 notes - Posted September 15, 2022

people out here talking about lexi not being subtle but i’m sorry my boy basically put out a billboard saying he wants to have lexi howard’s babies.

fez: i want to live that little house on the prairie life

lexi: i want three kids.

fez: well they had three kids on little house y’know…

like please baby, at least buy her dinner first!

971 notes - Posted February 28, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

on etsy

1,035 notes - Posted June 9, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#this seems…low #i mean i live here #my 2022 tumblr year in review

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imagineyouandharry · 3 years

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Gypsophila (H.S)

Summary: Prince Harry has been under great pressure to find a wife, and he finds his Queen in a way far more unconventional than he could’ve imagined.

Words: 5,730

Warnings: It’s a bit strange I guess? Idk lol.

A/N: Someone requested a Prince!Harry au forever ago, and then I didn’t really have an opportunity to write for a while, and then this idea sprung up on me and I’ve been lost in this little au for the past few days. It’s like a little twisted fairytale, taking inspiration from Snow White and Sleeping Beauty mostly. Part two is already a work in progress. If people are interested I’ll even put out a little sort of world building lore post with a map of the kingdom etc (I’ve been in DEEP). This part is a bit choppy and barely edited because I was just so eager to write it and get something out, but I would really appreciate any constructive criticism and editing notes! TYSM!! Long story short, enjoy!!!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Harry Edward Styles did not believe in true love, in fact, he thought it was the most ridiculous idea ever. Harry’s certain he’s laid eyes upon every eligible young lady, from his kingdom and the ones surrounding, and he hadn’t felt a single thing when looking at any of them. He prayed every night that he would find his love the next day, and finally be able to put his parents out of their misery and ascend to the throne. At the age of 27, Harry’s the oldest person in his family to not be married, no one every waited this long in the royal family. He would’ve had an arranged marriage at 21, though when his parents suggested that he ran away on a sailing ship for two months. One thing was clear to him: though he may not have experienced love yet, he wasn’t going to ruin his chances at true by being forced into a loveless marriage. It wasn’t only Harry’s parents, but the entire kingdom that woke each day hoping to hear that their Prince had found his Queen. They referred to Harry as the Good Prince, his subjects adored him, and lived for his acts of charity and selflessness, and they only hoped he would find a Queen that would treat them the same.

Harry’s outlook on love changed however, after his most recent hunting trip. Sundays are for family and hunting, that’s what Harry was always told. No day was for Harry, he’d come to learn that. Living under a microscope meant for very little alone time, and almost no guilt-free alone time. He and his hunting party rode across the fields and out to the dense forest surrounding the kingdom, and over the two hour journey Harry found himself agitated with the topics of conversation going on around him. He wanted a break, tired of everyone only ever speaking about royal duties or politics. Harry had discovered a fresh water lake if he went off the trail, and when he realised they were edging closer to his favourite place he decided to excuse himself with the excuse of needing to fill his canteen.

The natural spring was a hidden treasure indeed. Harry’s entire kingdom was cut off from the rest of the world due to the thick forestland surrounding it. There was only one trail in, and one trail out, and even then only experienced riders were able to make the journey. The end of the trail, in the deep of the forest, was also often lined with thieves and outcasts making it not the safest journey. This spring wasn’t necessarily hard to find, however thick trees that lined the main trail hid the spring, the gorgeous wild flowers, and clearing of soft grass either side. Harry tied his horse to his usual tree, softly parting the bushes careful to not cause any permanent damage, and stepped his way through. His kingdom was full of hidden treasures like this, tucked away in places only to be found by those adventurous enough.

The sound of the running water was most prominent, however the closer he walked to the spring, the more he could hear a faint, delicate singing voice. Harry couldn’t recognise the song, but it was one he’d never forget now. It felt as though his heart dropped in his stomach, and he had to lightly scratch his arm on a branch to double check he hasn’t died and was hearing an angel of heaven sing to him. He walked closer, with quiet footsteps so not to disturb the singing. He knelt down to the edge of the spring and began to fill his canteen, looking around his eyes eventually focused on the source of his siren, standing in the clearing over the other side of the spring as she picked a bouquet of dainty flowers. Lavender, daisies, bellflowers, poppies. Her body was dressed in sage green, the simple dress showed she definitely was not from a wealthy family, but it was simple and beautiful in its own way. Perhaps she sewed it herself, it did look as if it were made for her. He could see her hair shine from here, and the features of her side profile were striking him even from a distance. She didn’t look real. The strange girl across the spring looked ethereal, like her beauty was too surreal for this planet. Had he hit his head? Was he seeing a forest fairy? He hadn’t even realised the staggering increase in his heart rate as he watched the girl, and listened.

He lost track of how long he had been watching her for, snapped out of his daydream when he heard a “Your Royal Highness! We must be getting on!” Harry heard shouting at him from a distance, most likely back where he had tied his horse. The girl had heard the faint noise and her eyes shot in Harry’s direction. His cheeks flushed with heat as their eyes met only for a brief second, before she ran away. The eye contact brought a slight curve to his lips, although she was leaving, at least he got another good look at her.

“Wait!” He called as he stood up, his hand and canteen dripping wet. His eyes softened as she simply left, looking back briefly in her stride, but he’d blown it. “God fucking damn it.” He cursed under his breath as he began to trudge back to his horse, his feet weighing heavy on the ground.

That was the most he’d ever felt, looking at the stranger across the lake singing as if it were for him, and he couldn’t help but feel like he’d just lost his future Queen. Half of him wanted to wade through the water and run after her, but Harry wasn’t a often disobedient Prince, when one of his parents or advisors told him to jump, his usual response would be “how high?” It’s ironic how for someone who’s whole life depends on finding his future Queen is given so little time to actually explore a social life, or love life himself. He was always set up with suitors who his parents found best. In the rare times he’s able to sneak away he’d gotten around, and most definitely wasn’t a virgin, but he’d never found a girl who had made him feel the way he wanted to feel about his future queen. He only wanted to please his family, and his realm, but this was the one thing where he refused to compromise.

Y/N was as far away from a future queen as it could come, or at least that’s what her step-mother wanted everyone to think. The entire town hoped to marry their daughters off to the elusive Good Prince Harry, however her step-mother only wanted her biological daughters to have that chance. When Y/N’s father passed away her step-mother sent her out to live as a recluse in a tiny cottage in the woods, she had always feared that her beauty would distract future husbands away from her actual daughters, and didn’t want to ruin their chance of being married. Each Sunday she drops Y/N off the supplies she needs, but that was the only human contact she was given. It wasn’t too bad, she managed to keep herself busy with sewing, baking, or whatever other art or craft she could think of and had the materials for. It was lonely though, and she was ultimately alone.

Well, if you don’t count forest fairies. Y/N hated being outcast into the forest, and spent most of her early months in the cottage crying to whatever wild animal she could find that day that would stick around long enough. Eventually, these wild animals started bringing their fairy friends along with them. They would spend their days with Y/N tending to fruit and vegetable gardens, watering plants, having picnics, and making daisy chains. Her life was simple, and although not one she asked, it was one she was growing fond of. Male company was something she could only imagine and long for, or read about in story books. There were dozens of fairies living in the forest, but she’d become particularly close to a group of some of the female fairies.

Each Sunday before her step mother visits, Y/N will pick her step mother a bouquet of flowers in attempt to win her over, in hopes maybe one day her sweetness will earn her way back into town. Y/N had total obliviousness towards her step mother’s plan, and towards what was going on in the city. This year, any woman over the age of 21 was to present herself to the Prince. Y/N’s 21st birthday fell on the day she was scheduled to be presented to the Prince. The letter had been delivered shortly before she was sent away to the forest, Y/N never laid her eyes upon it though. The letter outlined the royal guard would be coming to collect anyone who failed to present themselves on the day, and to Y/N’s step mother that meant the only option was to make it so Y/N never turned 21, or made it to her birthday for that matter.

Seeing the Prince most definitely did spook Y/N during that day in the field, if her step mother ever found out she’d had contact with a male there was no chance she’d ever be allowed to move back home. She did all she could think to do. She ran. She ran so fast that the petals of the flowers she had picked were ruined in her haste, quickly shutting herself inside the cottage to gather herself before her routine afternoon visit from her step mother. Sure she knew of men to be dangerous and terrible, but she feared her step-mother’s wrath more than anything any man could put her through.

Like any other Sunday, she scrubbed the house and dressed herself in whatever new garment she had stitched herself this week. The fairies had been busy this week and she’d had a great deal of time to herself, embroidering colourful flowers into the soft white linen of the new dress she had made. Her step-mother would bring her fabric and thread to sew dresses for her step sisters. It was something to be proud of, but most likely would be over looked. Little was said upon her step-mother’s arrival, but her character seemed off. Her step-mother’s eyes darted around, checking windows as she insisted on making the two of them tea. Y/N sat down at the small dining table, recounting tales of her week, ensuring to leave out anything about fairies or a boy. She watched a small bunny outside the window, forgetting to speak as awe overwhelmed her whilst she watched its tiny nose twitch. Her daydream came to an end when the sound of the ceramic mug hit the hard wood of the coffee table. “Drink while it’s warm, my love.” Her step-mother told her, sitting down in the seat at the head of the table beside Y/N. It wasn’t long after that that Y/N hit the floor, and her step-mother was shrouding herself in a hooded coat and sneaking out of the tiny cabin.

Elsie, a fairy most close to Y/N, who specialises in healing, came to the conclusion that she was only out for about six hours before the fairies found her. They did all they could over the following weeks to bring her back to life, trying as many possible rituals, potions, and spells to give life to her body once more. Nothing was of use though, and instead they decided to preserve her in a glass case in the clearing amongst the wildflowers. She had professed to them that the clearing by the spring had been her favourite place, so they saw this fit. Preserving her in the glass case was simply because the idea of her beauty decaying away made any of the fairies shriek. Fairies never communicated with humans, however Y/N was different. Elsie had always theorised that Y/N had magic in her blood. Amongst the many spells and rituals they tried to bring Y/N back, they threw in a spell that would hopefully bring her back with true love’s kiss. It was like a safety net, or a ‘what if?’ But they eventually tired and wore out, preserving her was well enough for now. They kept her dressed in the new dress she had crafted for herself, it was so beautiful after all. They had placed tiny baby’s breath flowers throughout her hair, and made sure everything was perfect. They even went as far to adorn her in delicate gold jewellery, with beautiful crystals of all colours. Her body rested upon a large rectangular slab of rose quartz.

****

Harry was dreading sitting in the throne room, while all the eligible females from the town were presented to him like livestock. It made him sick, and left a terrible taste in his mouth. All he could think of was the girl from the clearing. Is she a sign? Is he his ticket out of here? Was seeing her fate? Questions like that simmered over his mind and kept him awake at night, he had been sleeping little and finding it hard to focus on his duties. His best friend Niall was he closest confidant, the only one he had told about the beautiful girl in the clearing that day. Niall cared more for Harry than anyone, really. He didn’t just care about his fame or power or wealth, Harry was his best friend and he hated seeing his best mate so down about his love life and the pressure to marry a woman he doesn’t love. He made it his mission to find the woman, and his detective work lead him down a path he didn’t expect at all. First he went to the clearing where Harry filled his water in the spring, that was where he first noticed something over the other side of the spring that he couldn’t quite make out. He followed the spring and found an area narrow enough to cross, making his way to the structure he’d seen earlier. He didn’t know what to make of this discover, a dead girl in a glass coffin. ‘Forever at rest, only to be woken by true love’s kiss’ read an inscription on a gold plaque. He really didn’t know what to make of this. He didn’t know what to tell Harry.

Sweat lingered Niall’s brow as he made his way back to the castle to find Harry, to tell him of his discovery. “Look… I just need you to come with me and tell me what you think when we’re there.” Niall tells him, his voice somewhat breathless. Niall himself was still in disbelief, shock, his eyes wide as he shook his head. “I just- I don’t know what to tell you. You need to see it for yourself.” He adds.

Harry nods. “I’ll come immediately.” Harry tells him, his trust for Niall outweighing anything else going on in his head. Together they rode to the forest, crossed the narrow part of the spring, and towards where Niall had discovered Y/N.

“Is this the girl you were talking about?” Niall asks, however when he looks from the girl to Harry, he knows the answer. Harry couldn’t help but fall to his knees, pressing his palms against the glass as he looked inside. He noticed how long her eyelashes looked, and the freckles on her nose. His nose was almost touching the glass as he leant here on his knees at the side of her, taking her in up close.

“What happened to you?” He whispers, his eyebrows knitting together. Niall gives him a moment before he decides to mention the plaque at the foot of the structure.

“It uh, says something weird about being awoken by true love’s kiss. I don’t know if it’s true, and it’s revolting to think you would kiss a dead body for nothing, but someone has put her here. Someone made this. My grandmother in her old age would mutter stories about forest fairies and their magic… It just makes you wonder, you know?” He ponders, his eyes wandering away. It felt silly to bring up magic, it was something very commonly dismissed.

“Help me get this off.” Harry said as he brought himself from the ground, the soft grass had left green stains on his tan riding pants. He pushed the sleeves of his white linen button down up past his elbows, and the two men carefully lift the heavy glass case up off of the rose quartz Y/N had been resting on. It wasn’t easy, and the glass at the bottom dug into Harry’s fingers before they set the glass piece of the structure down on to the grass. “Alright. Here we go.” Harry said, in attempt to psych himself up for kissing a dead girl. She didn’t look dead though, just sleeping, you could only tell she was dead due to the missing rising and fall in her chest with her breath. “I might start walking back to the horses, give you some privacy.” Niall said, giving him a slight smile. He also didn’t really want to witness someone kiss a dead person, if she didn’t end up waking up.

“Good luck. Take your time.” He adds, part of him had no doubt it was going to work though. The stories his grandmother would tell him of the forest fairies were something he’d always held on to, those stories were amongst his most treasured memories. He’d always had some hope.

Harry waited until he could no longer hear Niall’s footsteps before he leant down close to Y/N, brushing a strand of hair back behind her ear. He took a moment, if this never worked it was going to be the last time he’d ever see her. He couldn’t fathom coming back to this spot if this didn’t work. His heart began to ache at the thought, it made his chest feel tight, and gave him the urge to rub at the spot.

“I really hope you’re who I think you are.” He whispers as he looks down at her. “This might seem like absolute madness. I don’t even know your name, but if you wake up for me, I swear to you I will be yours forever.” He began, to Harry this almost did feel like a ritual, it felt special, and the words he was speaking were amongst the most genuine he’d ever given life to. “I promise, I will protect you. I will provide for you. I will love you. I will never, ever harm you. I will love you until my very last breath, I just need you to do this one thing for me.” His voice was barely a whisper now, and breaking as hot tears welled in his eyes. He very carefully leant down, pressing his warm, puffy lips against her cold, smooth ones. He didn’t know how long to wait, but it didn’t feel wrong. It was a sweet, tender kiss. His eyes closed, and he felt at peace. It felt more than at peace. The long grass, wildflowers, and tree branches that surrounded them began to stir with wind, petals floating up into the gusts that took them. This girl had a tendency to make him feel like he’s dead and in heaven. Her lips slowly began to warm, and skin began to glow with heat. It felt like they were floating, as if the universe was made up of just the two of them. The flowers beneath him began to grow taller and more dense, and it began to feel like his heart was pulling towards hers. It felt like a tether had been formed, connecting their energy, he could feel as her heart began to pump blood again, and her energy radiate from her skin. It felt too surreal.

Slowly, Harry removed his lips to allow Y/N to breathe. He let a hand lay gently resting on her cheek as he watched her gasp for her first new breath, eyes shooting open as she looked up at him. It wasn’t shock she was met with when her eyes met Harry’s, but peace. The luminous green eyes that were gazing down upon her were like lighthouses, guiding her towards safety. So many questions began to race her mind as she came to reality, unable to decide which one to ask first. As if based on intuition, Harry decided to speak. “I uh- I’m not too sure what happened to you but my friend found you here today and brought me to you. I believe I saw you a few weeks ago, in the same spot. I’m not sure how long you’ve been out here, but there was this little plaque at the end of this thing here, that said something about a kiss to wake you up… I’m sorry for kissing you without your consent, but I couldn’t risk not taking this chance.” He didn’t mean to ramble or to overwhelm her with his spiel, but he was overwhelmed himself with everything that had just gone on. True love’s kiss. His queen. His true love. The other half of his soul, in human form. Y/N’s lips parted as if to speak, but nothing came out. She closed them once more as she sat up and looked around, swinging her legs off the side of the marble before looking back up to Harry. Her movement had disconnected his hand from her face, and they both longed for each other’s touch once more already. Her eyes began to well with tears as she began to think about how she got here, her last memories.

“I can only assume how overwhelming this must all be for you… We can stay here as long as you need, it’s just us. When you feel ready for it, I can take you back to my home and we can get you showered and fed. I don’t mean you any harm.” Harry doesn’t even need to add that last sentence though, because she can feel it. She can feel his love for her, she could almost hear it if she listened closely enough, as if his heart was now beating a song for her.

Harry stood back, as if to give the doe eyed girl some space. She looked at him as if he was the most precious treasure on Earth, he’d never felt so overwhelmed with love. This was followed by her delicate hands reaching out, taking ahold of his as she brought herself to stand in front of him. “Is it alright if you hold me for a second?” She asked softly, needing time to process things.

It had been so long since she had been touched affectionately, she couldn’t really remember it. Her father was never affectionate, nor her step mother or step sisters or anyone else she’d met. She felt comfortable with the stranger in front of her though, and didn’t have the energy to resist the magnet like force pulling her towards him.

“Of course.” He responds, his voice soft as he wraps his arms gently around her frame, pulling her into his warm figure. Harry was like the perfect, giant teddy bear… but he wasn’t really that soft. Pressed against him she could feel how chiseled his features are. Her arms wrapped around his waist as she relaxed into him, cheek against the skin of his chest kindly revealed by the first few buttons of his shirt being undone. “What’s your name?” He asks, tangling his fingers in her hair to lightly rub his fingertips against the tender skin at the back of her neck.

“Y/N Y/L/N. Yours?” She asks, looking up to the tall, broad man.

“Harry.” He decides on leaving out his royal title or last name.

“Just Harry?” She asks, her eyebrows raising.

“For now. We have plenty of time to talk about me later.” He notes, removing the same rogue strand of hair as before from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. It was almost as if her hair had a life of its own, breathing, like the other flora growing in the forest. He had noticed the baby’s breath in her hair, though her hair moved, they remained in the same places, as if growing out of their place on the strand of hair. “What do you last remember?” He asks, needing to know if whatever put her in eternal sleep had been by accident, or as an act of malice. She looks back away from his face, resting her cheek once more against his chest.

“My step-mother, Styephania came over, she made me tea. That’s all I can really remember.” She said, unable to stop the disappointed sigh from escaping her lips. Maybe she’d had a freak health accident, like a stroke. Just because she’d been mistreated by her step mother her whole life, didn’t mean she was capable of murder. She knew her step mother didn’t put her out here though, this was the work of fairies. They were looking on, hiding in the bushes as they stood witness to young love blossom in front of them, not wanting to disturb the two of them. “I look crazy, and it sounds crazier saying this, but I’m certain the forest fairies are responsible for looking after me and putting me here. The day she came over was the day I think you saw me here, and I’m not sure how I’m meant to feel but I don’t feel like I’ve been a dead body since then. I feel like no time has passed at all.” Harry avidly listened to her speak, her voice like caramel, seeping in his ears and warming his whole body. Harry wasn’t phased by her mentioning fairies, Niall had suspecting this being their work earlier. It was the only explanation Harry could think of. He couldn’t understand why her step mother would leave her here, why she wouldn’t find her help.

He didn’t want to worry his sweet girl now, he wanted to make sure she felt alright, safe, and cared for. His grip on her wasn’t too tight, but firm in a comforting way. “The plaque… It mentioned how you’d only be woken by true love’s kiss.” He figured the longer he waited to tell her the stranger it would be. His cheeks were red, as if embarrassed or ashamed to tell her about the plaque, how strange it all was. Her eyes met his, and the connection gave him whiplash. He couldn’t peel his eyes away, getting lost in the little pools. He wanted to know everything about her, what she liked, disliked, what she ate for breakfast, her favourite songs, flowers, secrets. Everything.

“I don’t know if I know what love feels like. The only men I’ve spoken to are all twice my age. I wasn’t really allowed to see boys. You’re definitely much, much more beautiful than I would’ve imagined a man to be, and I’m certain that my heart is literally beating for you now, since you woke me.” She tells him, the descriptions of heroes in stories she would read, or how she would imagine the older men to look when they were younger, were incomparable to Harry. The compliment made his cheeks flush. With each beat of her heart, it was as if it was pulling her closer to Harry, calling out for him, begging for him to love on her and soothe the ache in her chest.

“How has God made something so sweet?” He mumbles, he hadn’t even realised he’d said it out loud at first. “You’re breath taking. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes upon, and trust me when I say I’ve seen a lot of them. Even from far away, the first time I saw you… You make me nervous. You make my heart race, and my palms sweat, and I get butterflies in my stomach and nervous when I think about saying the wrong thing or not having you like me. It’s as if you’ve been carved by God himself, like he was showing off when he made you so beautiful. I wish I’d met you sooner.” Those last words burn his throat, how easier the last few years would have been if he had just been able to find her sooner.

*****

Harry sent Niall back to the castle first, having him instruct everyone to clear out the path that the Prince and his soon to be queen would take to his suite, he didn’t want to spook her with people around. The guards had to stay though, non-negotiable. He also had Niall ensure the doctor was on standby, just to check on Y/N and stay in the castle over the upcoming weeks in case anything else happened. Security was going to be increased, and tightened, and a warrant put out for her step mother.

The two hour horseback ride to the castle would give them well enough time to get to know each other, Harry and Niall had also switched horses, Niall’s being the slower of the two. “I don’t want to startle you when we get there. I also don’t know how to really tell you this. I’m in the royal family, so the guards and whatnot are something to just be ignored. They’re for your protection. I don’t know if you heard much of what I was telling Niall earlier, but you’re going to be very safe here, and we’ll find out what happened. I’ll look after you, I promise.” His eyes are ahead as he speaks, looking over the vast green fields ahead of them once they eventually emerged from the forest.

“Still just Harry, to me.” She reassured, sensing his nerves about revealing this information to her. His shoulders relaxed at her reaction, and a smile formed on his lips when his mind began to wander into what their future may be like. His queen.

“Hey, one day that’ll be King Harry to you.” He joked, thankful that it was received with a laugh. Her laughter was almost as sweet as her songs, and for the rest of the journey he made it his mission to mine as many possible laughs out of her as he could, like little nuggets of treasure. After making their way through the fields that lined the forest, they went down a long road that served as a divide between two of the castle’s towns, and at the end of that road just past a small valley of mountains was a sight far more glorious than Y/N had imagined. Her village was a small village that contained mostly candlemakers and dressmakers, and it sat further to the east, people only ever going out there to purchase fine candles and clothing. It was niche though, and not many could afford the fineries the master crafters in her village would create. Y/N hadn’t even really seen a home larger than a cottage, Harry’s castle looked large enough as if it could contain its own little world, a complete wilderness of towers surrounded by fine gardens, protected by a large moat with a standalone drawbridge. Harry didn’t even need to announce himself, the drawbridge was already in the process of being lowered for him.

“I had Niall clear our path, I don’t want to overwhelm you. I’ll introduce you to everyone when you’re ready.” Harry reassures her, she hadn’t even thought of anyone else though, too in awe of the sights around her. Flowers she’d never seen before laced these gardens, with fine marble sculptures and fountains protruding from them.

“I can’t believe this is your home.” Y/N whispers, unable to think of anything else to say.

“Your home too, if you’d like.” Harry replies, though his words immediately shrouded him with nerves about rushing Y/N into anything. It was stupid, they were each other’s true love’s, but it felt wrong being strangers, so Harry tried his best to conceal things. He’d never been in a conventional relationship before, never mind whatever this arrangement is or was going to be. He just knew he wasn’t meant to rush things, so he tried to refrain from expressing his feelings as best as he could. Her arms around his waist tightened, Y/N needing to feel as close to Harry as possible. He held the reins in one hand, the other arm resting over hers around his stomach, holding on to her arm to make sure she couldn’t let go.

“I’d like that.” Y/N reassures, gently rubbing his side to soothe him. Harry was too caught up in his own feelings to pay attention to how calm Y/N was. She could feel his anxiety though, and continued to try to soothe him as best she could. Y/N knew very little about Harry so far, but what she did know was that he was kind, caring, and had a lot of worries. She’d never been a worrisome person, and if anything would even refer to herself as naive, it was something she’d always been almost ashamed of but in this moment felt like maybe she’d been made to be by Harry’s side. Y/N liked the idea of spending her days being Harry’s rock, a voice of reason. She’d rather a man like this than one who had no emotions, that was for sure. It could’ve been whatever was now eternally bonding them, but she swears she was feeling his emotions, able to see his aura if she really studied hard enough. She sunk into him some more, her arms around his waist, cheek resting against his back. Harry made sure to take it extra slow, giving his love enough time to appreciate the flowers. She seemed to like flowers, and his mother took pride in this being the most beautiful garden amongst all of the kingdoms. He couldn’t wait to show her all the fineries that came with his life.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #Harry Styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #Prince!Harry #harry styles au #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #new writter #writeblr #fanfic #fantasy #high fantasy #prince

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delu-jean · 3 years

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hi! so I just wanted to send in an Erwin x reader ask where basically Erwin survive shiganshina and they basically end up becoming parental figures for historia and guide her. thanks!

𝐄𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚 (𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚)

(Erwin x fem!/reader) -> Mentions of Historia! -> Fluff -> 1.6k

Request: hi! so I just wanted to send in an Erwin x reader ask where basically Erwin survive shiganshina and they basically end up becoming parental figures for historia and guide her. thanks!

Notes: After the interaction the two had (somewhere in season three), I literally head cannoned him being her father! The chemistry between the two would be so sweet if they were!! The concept for this request was so adorable!! Thanks for the request, and enjoy! ^^

“We did it...we have the colossal now,” you’d say, knees shaking after all of the casualties. Erwin then caught you. Seeing how shocked you were, he tried to calm you down the best he could.

“Yes Y/n...we did...but at a great cost.”

“Was it really one worth all of this trouble?” You said being unsure with such a loss.

“Of course it was. For the sake of humanity.”

“Right...for the sake of Humanity.”

---

Many had died during the mission to Shiganshina. A lot of your comrades lost, along with your dearest friends. You mourned over such a thing, but ultimately, were glad for the ones who had survived. Levi, Hange, your dearest and most closest friends, still breathing as you spoke. And Erwin, your lover for gosh knows how long. Even after the stunt that was pulled, he still managed to survive. You were relieved that such a chaotic man...had escaped such a brutal mess.

You were also glad that he saw what he had eagerly wanted to see. The basement that Eren had the key to. After hearing about some vague details from the commander, along with the other four who had entered, it gave you a mix of emotions. Both ecstatic to know there was more out there, yet terrified that such things were most likely forgein obstacles. Ones that would be hard to get rid of.

Regardless, you were now heading back. Delivering both the books, along with yourselves, and whatever else you had left. At the entrance of wall Sina, there you see Historia waiting. She seemed ecstatic yet composed when greeting you all. And when seeing both you and Erwin, she seemed even more pleased.

You see, even though Historia had her own birth parents, they never felt like her actual ones (based on the tragedies they caused). She’d been neglected...never feeling like she had someone to look up to. But when entering the Survey Corps, though it took a while to warm up to you, she ultimately did. It wasn’t that she couldn’t talk to you, rather, it took some time for her to see you as a mother figure.

You were maybe 15 years older than her, but even that being the case, you saw her as your own. Though she wasn’t calling you “mom,” nor were you calling her “your daughter,” you both had the relationship. Labels weren’t needed to understand such a thing.

Since she grew up without the affection of her mom, she took your affection very seriously. She was thankful to say the least. Thankful for the nights you would console her, give her advice, and hear her out. Though Ymir had done the same, the difference was that you spoke the words of a mother. Erwin had also come around to this concept, and tried getting to know Historia on a more personal level.

He saw how attached you were to such an extraordinary girl. That being the case, he too wanted to experience the joy you two shared. You of course encouraged such a thing, and therefore, he did his best when getting to know her. It was a good practice for him since for most (if not all of ) his soldiers, he considered them pawns. So that being the case, you took this as an opportunity for him to think otherwise.

Another reason as to why Erwin was doing this, was because of his own personal experience. Though he did have his father, he was (eventually) taken away from him at a young age. He didn’t want Historia to go astray like he did in his teenage years. So, he tried building a connection. Hoping his input could help her in the best way.

Though it wasn’t as easy going compared to the both of you, he did his best, and she appreciated the effort put in. He’d usually have conversations with her about life. The most simple, yet complicated philosophy out there. Maybe he would even pop in his childhood memories, and theories he had. Truly making the most of their time. And she enjoyed their interactions. You adored how close the two were. Though one was more tense than the other, the affection was clearly there. Just seeing them together, made you wonder as to how Erwin would be with his own children. Possibly yours if we’re being specific.

Erwin then approached the girl on his steed. Bowing to the queen to be, along with the rest of you.

“Princess Historia, we made many discoveries during our mission. Ones that we can discuss privately whenever it is to your liking,” Erwin said, composed with a respectful tone.

“Of course Commander. Before we do, I think you could all rest. It’ll be best if you do, after all...it seems as if you could use it,” she took note of the lack of numbers, but decided not to bring it up.

“Of course,” Erwin agreed and everyone left. Well...except the both of you. Hirstoria then invited you both into the castle. The three of you sat in a room, the two of you on one couch, while she sat on the other. Face to face as she took a sip of tea.

“Forget about formalities, I’m glad you’re both alive,” she smiled and you did the same.

“I don’t think it’s appropriate if we do...after all, you will be the Queen soon.”

“Nonsense. Even when that does happen, nothing will change between the three of us.”

“I guess not,” Erwin chuckled as she sighed in relief.

“Now that that’s over with, let’s discuss the details over your findings.”

“Sounds good, Queen Historia.”

“Oh stop it Y/n,” she pestered as you giggled.

“So, Historia…”

Erwin then went on about their findings. How there was an entire civilization across from them, how you all were subjects of Ymir, about the nine titans, and whatever else they had left to say. He seemed stern during his conversation, not only that, but you could sound the passion which rang through his words. He looked somewhat relieved that he saw such an extraordinary finding. Not only was it one step closer to saving humanity, but one step closer to fulfilling both his wants, and needs.

You didn’t know what you would have done if he hadn’t made it out alive. The guilt of him not being able to see such a sight, nor Historia...would’ve crushed you if anything. You know that the both of you would have missed him dearly...and if anything, she would have felt responsible for his death. Something that was never predicted, yet under the control of the Scout regiment. A power that she had ruled over.

Though this thought lingered, it was one that had not come true. And hopefully, things would stay that way. He was here with you. Safe and sound. Maybe a little bruised but hey, handsome either way. You then put your head on his shoulder, caressing his thumb. Though he tried keeping composure, he eventually gave in. Relaxing his body while in the warmth of your touch.

“I see, interesting…” she nod to then say:

“Erwin, Y/n, you know how much I love the both of you. Because of that...when I do become queen...please don’t let our dynamic change. I find comfort in it, and hope that we can continue to have the relations set.”

To your surprise, Erwin spoke first. His eyes soft, and his speech gentle. Staring at the young girl before him, who was now becoming an adult.

“Of course. If that is what the Queen allows, I’ll be sure to do my part. For both humanity, but importantly, you Historia,” you then placed your own cup down, accompanying Erwin:

“I agree. Of course, our manners will have to prosper when needed...but if we’re alone, or even if we’re not, feel free to come to either of us. We’ll care for you no matter what, okay?” she teared up a bit and then walked to the both of you. You both stood up, and grasped her. The mood felt both joyful, yet teary.

“I’m glad you both made it. Please be careful out there,” Erwin, though reluctant, then placed a hand (A/n: the only one-) on her head.

“Don’t worry, you can count on us, your majesty.”

‘Ah my little girl...so grown and mature,’ she tightened her grip on your torso, as your arms were still wrapped around her.

“Yes...don’t worry. You can most definitely count on us.”

---

As time progressed Historia got crowned. That being the case, she had more responsibilities on hand. Constantly working her hardest to help her people. You were glad to see such a young person blossom into such a strong woman. Though she did most things on her own, you and Erwin guided her when possible. Even when it came to the little things like if her drapes should be red, or green.

There would also be moments where it was just the three of you, or you two alone. Now that she was queen, her time was of value. So you tried to spend it in the wisest way possible. Talking about politics could wait, those were the times where you all could express things heart to heart. Being honest about how she felt, versus how things ran. Expressing her love for the people she rules, and even the deep thoughts that kept her up at night.

Both Erwin and you did your best to guide her through these emotions. Wanting to teach her both politically, and most importantly, emotionally. Prepping her for the duties she would have as both Queen, and herself. Raising her to be the person she wanted to be, and supporting her to the utmost of your abilities.

“I think I understand now, what we have to do against Marely. Though it is just one step, it’s one step closer to saving the people of Ymir.”

“Yes, yes it is...Historia,” Erwin said as he held your hand.

“It definitely is...Historia.”

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thedragonnerd · 3 years

Text

Fic: Love Languages

Headcanon suggested by a lovely anon, which spawned into a fic. Read on Ao3 or under the cut.

Words of affirmation

Receiving compliments or words of encouragement are not uncommon for Namaari. She has gone through life aiming to be the best at everything she does – the best leader, the best warrior, the best Princess – and along with her success come compliments on her fighting techniques, her decision-making skills, and even her ability to look formidable in her formal attire.

As royalty, people lavish her with praises when they see an opportunity to get into her good graces, despite the obvious lack of sincerity behind their words, and it tires her to deal with fawning citizens. She loves her people, but she’d rather they’d love her back truly; false words mean nothing.

Chief Virana does not give out compliments easily, and is often faster to critique than to encourage. Namaari pretends her mother’s approval is nothing more than something important to receive from her Chief, but in reality, she craves hearing soft words such as ‘well done, Morning Mist’, whenever she is lucky enough to have them bestowed upon her.

As she grows up, she decides that sweet words are nice to have, but ultimately unnecessary – nothing more than a nod of acknowledgement is needed, before one can place it aside and move on to more important things. And then Raya comes back into her life.

Raya, who can flirt endlessly with elaborate innuendos until Namaari rolls her eyes at her ridiculousness. Raya, who is quite happy to press herself closer than absolutely necessary in their sparring sessions, just to set out some unspoken physical challenge.

And yet, when it comes to providing a genuine compliment, Raya practically freezes.

‘I like…like your hair,’ she mumbles one day to Namaari, glancing off to the side in order to avoid making eye contact. Her cheeks are flushed bright red, even though earlier in the day she had made a lewd comment about a sword which didn’t even have her blinking.

For some reason, Raya’s lack of suaveness when it comes to providing true compliments delights Namaari, and she hoards each instance close to her heart, happy in the knowledge that every word spoken was genuine in its meaning.

In return, she starts to gift Raya with compliments of her own.

For Raya is not used to receiving compliments, at least not in a long time. Her Ba used to provide encouragement and compliments often, but that was many years ago, and now he hesitates to put them into words sometimes, unsure of how this new dynamic works when he’s looking at a grown-up daughter rather than a small child.

Namaari has no difficulty in sharing them though.

‘You look very beautiful today,’ she tells Raya softly one evening, when they are having dinner. Raya stammers out some incomprehensible response, and spends the rest of the meal staring down at her bowl, occasionally darting her eyes over to Namaari.

‘I love that hairstyle on you,’ Namaari says to her a few days later, watching as Raya braids her hair back with expert precision.

‘Umm…thanks?’ Raya squeaks.

‘Your techniques were excellent today,’ Namaari informs her after a sparring session. This time, Raya just nods, and clears her throat before trying to awkwardly change the subject. Namaari can still see the smile on her lips though.

Eventually, Raya becomes better at both giving and receiving words of affirmation. Namaari learns how true compliments can be more meaningful than expected.

It isn’t the most important aspect of their relationship, but they like to encourage each other all the same.

Acts of service

Raya sees how much of a burden Namaari perpetually takes onto her shoulders, in her duties for Fang. She is so focused on helping her people rebuild and expand, or going away on diplomatic missions to help form better relations with the other lands, that she forgets to take a moment to breath sometimes.

Raya wants to take some of her stress away, by helping her carry out some of her duties or at least be involved in organizing certain aspects of the expansion projects, but she discovers quickly that Namaari is somewhat of a perfectionist. It is almost more stressful for her to find herself out of the loop or uninformed about decisions, than it would be to allow her undertake the duties in the first place, and so Raya finds it more helpful to just back off from the work unless asked to provide support.

It’s also a way for Namaari to feel as if she is atoning for her past actions. Raya wishes she wouldn’t feel the need to do so, but it is something they’ve argued about before, and they always end up stuck in a perpetual loop.

One of the ways Raya can help however, is with her cooking.

Namaari is an awful cook (something Raya unfortunately discovers herself with one ill-fated meal), but she is fascinated by watching Raya conjure something up in the kitchen.

Gone are the days of living off jackfruit jerky; with so many fresh and interesting ingredients at her disposal, and with the occasional reminders from Ba when she is unsure about something, Raya makes a whole array of different foods over the months.

It’s one of the best ways of getting Namaari to relax, Raya finds. Every mealtime when Raya is behind the pot, Namaari will abandon whatever work she is doing, and will sit and watch Raya finish making the dishes. They’ll always eat it together, and for a short while, Raya can feel the stress lift free from Namaari as she laughs over Raya’s words and enjoys good food.

Gifts

The first gift Namaari ever gave Raya has almost become a symbol for their entire complicated history. It represents new friendship, betrayal, and after so many years…forgiveness and a fresh start.

Namaari gives it back to her not long after the return of Kumandra, before she can second-guess herself.

‘It was a gift,’ she says, half-expecting it to be thrown back in her face. But Raya runs her finger gently over the surface of the dragon pendant, and then sends her a small smile. The next day, Namaari sees it hanging around her neck once more.

Once they start dating properly, Namaari can’t get it out of her mind how much the gift seemed to mean to Raya, both times.

‘She still doesn’t have that many personal belongings,’ Namaari informs Sisu, as an explanation as to why she was forcing the dragon to accompany her around endless market stalls in Talon, looking for the perfect gift for Raya. ‘I figure it’s because she was on the move so much in life, she couldn’t carry a lot.’

Sisu makes an ‘mmm’ sound, clearly not buying her reasoning completely, but allows the topic to drop when she’s distracted by shiny objects at the next stall.

Namaari finds a small knife that can be strapped to a wrist and slipped up the sleeve. She knows how much Raya prefers to be carrying at least one weapon with her at all times, and this would be perfect for diplomatic meetings – subtle, and easy to hide. And indeed, Raya wears it continuously after receiving it as a gift.

On another visit to another market, this time in Spine, Namaari spies a comb with a beautifully carved handle.

‘For your hair,’ she says in an attempt to be casual, thrusting it awkwardly in Raya’s direction that evening. Raya loves it, and it is indeed used every night before bed to comb out her braids.

Every time Namaari has to travel on diplomatic missions, she now ensures that she brings back something small for Raya.

‘I love the gifts,’ Raya tells her one day. ‘But I love even more how it shows you’re thinking of me when you’re away.’

One evening, as they are getting ready for bed, a small golden ring drops out of Namaari’s pocket by mistake.

‘Is…is that my old hair band?’ Raya asks, peering over the side of the bed as Namaari scoops it up in a hurry. ‘I thought I’d lost that years ago.’

‘I found it,’ Namaari says defensively, clutching it tight in her fist. ‘I guess…I never asked you if you wanted it back?’

Raya shakes her head with a smile, but the following evening, she steps up behind Namaari, sliding her hand into her pocket. Namaari watches as she pulls out the hair band and threads it onto a small gold chain.

From then on, they both wear a gift from the other around their necks.

Physical touch

Sometimes, everything can become overwhelming, the past traumas so great that it seems suffocating. And in that darkness, sometimes the gentle touch of another is the only thing keeping the world grounded.

Raya goes six long years without receiving a hug. At the time, she doesn’t see it as a big deal – she’s grown up fast, and learnt that the world isn’t the welcoming place her father once hoped it could be. Even moreso, her Ba was the last one to hug her, and she doesn’t mind keeping it that way.

Now though, she finds comfort in the small touches. It’s in the featherlight way Namaari’s nose brushes against her neck as they curl up together in bed, waiting for the morning sun to rise. It’s in the gentle trail of Namaari’s fingers across her back, as they stand talking to others, and Namaari absentmindedly reaches out for her. It’s in the soft kiss against her temple, when Namaari has to go back to work after lunch.

Occasionally, she will need to be encompassed by that comfort, and in this moment, she will go and find Namaari, stepping closer until her forehead rests on her shoulder. No matter what she was previously doing, Namaari will pause everything, wrapping her arms tightly around Raya, and they stand there until Raya can feel as if she can breathe again.

Namaari has a habit of falling too far into her own mind sometimes. She is an outwardly composed and pragmatic individual, but internally, all sorts of doubts and guilt still plague her, and there are days where she can’t shake off the feeling that she isn’t doing enough in her life to atone for her past, or that she is a fraud who has no right in stepping up and trying to lead her people when her previous actions cost them so much.

It’s difficult for her to ask for help in these moments. Raya learns instead to notice the signs of a bad day, or whenever Namaari gets trapped into a downwards spiral, and she will take Namaari by the hands and sit them somewhere quiet.

There they can actually talk, and sometimes Namaari feels comfortable enough to share her fears. But the most important thing, Raya finds, is to slide an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in tight and peppering her cheek and bare shoulder with small kisses.

Raya refuses to let her go until she sees at least one small smile.

Quality time

In the early days of the relationship, there is still so much separation between the two of them. Raya is in Heart, helping her Ba welcome back everyone to their lands, fixing up the buildings, ensuring the harvest gets started…There are so many jobs to do, and Raya knows Namaari is undergoing the same issues back in Fang, coupled with an expansion of their kingdom.

On top of all of this, there are endless council meetings and diplomatic missions, so if it isn’t Namaari being busy with politics, it is Raya, much to her annoyance.

Whenever they do get to spend time together, they ensure no minute is wasted. They have meals together, and spar together, and find all sorts of random ways to entertain themselves. Namaari loves to go out in the evenings and watch the night sky, attempting to teach the constellations to Raya; but Raya decides that these constellations are ridiculous, and so they create their own. Raya meanwhile loves to go for hikes in the woods, dragging Namaari along to discover new plants and wildlife, and occasionally climbing the trees.

They both love to sit in bed next to each other, quietly reading their books, or discussing their day. Sometimes, Raya will lie sideways on the bed, her stomach across Namaari’s legs and her arms hanging over the edge, so she can carve pieces of wood into intricate shapes, with Namaari reads out loud for the both of them.

Even after several years, and living together permanently, Raya finds herself reflecting on the fact that she never gets bored as long as she’s with Namaari.

They are currently lying in a field somewhere in the depths of Heart land, enjoying the sun shining onto their faces and the grass tickling their skin. She lazily wiggles her hand until it makes contact with Namaari.

‘Dep la?’ Raya whispers, and Namaari grunts in response. ‘You don’t get bored with me, right?’

Namaari merely shuffles closer without even opening an eye, resting her cheek against Raya’s shoulder.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ she mumbles, and she’s curled up so close that Raya can feel the vibrations of her voice on her skin.

‘Didn’t think so,’ Raya says in satisfaction. They continue to enjoy the peace.

#rayaari #raya and the last dragon #raya and namaari #ratld #raya #namaari #rayaari fic #rayamaari #this was supposed to be a headcanon #but it all was just like 'hello must get out of the brain'#some fluff to keep you guys happy #while i work on the concept au angst

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lin-nin · 3 years

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Tribulation & Tenderness - Chapter 6

Ship: Main Technoblade x Reader, some Dream x Reader

Plot: You're a princess in a Kingdom suffering a years long famine. In a desperate attempt to help your people, you accept one simple offer: Marriage to the crown prince of a neighboring kingdom. Anything to help your people survive. Surely it can't be too bad, can it?

Chapter List: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 Disclaimer: Cross-posted on Wattpad (discontinued) and Ao3. This is based off of everyone's CHARACTERS. I do not write fanfic based off the actual people.

Chapter 6: Farewell Gifts

< | Previous Chapter

The morning sun had begun filling your room, sneaking through parted curtains to cover everything in a warm glow. You had been reluctant to stir, a sense of melancholy hanging around you. You knew exactly why that was. You would be leaving tomorrow morning. There was good and bad to it, you supposed. You were introduced to a taste of freedom and new possibilities that came with this marriage. Yet it still meant saying goodbye to everything you knew here.

You slowly turned over in your bed, moving out of it. Might as well start the day, though. Moping wouldn’t get too much accomplished. You padded over towards the window, peering out of it for a few moments. The sun covered the land beyond the castle in a pleasant glow. Nature carried on like nothing was going to happen, and you couldn’t help but huff. You needed to as well. Even as you looked to the horizon, wondering what it held for you. Hopefully a decent life.

You hardly thought too much as you grabbed a dress, sliding it over your body. You didn’t even know what today held for you, either. You would find out after breakfast, though. That’s usually how things went for you. Taking each day as it came. You slid on your shoes, fastening them tightly. Take today one step at a time. Tomorrow would come when it came.

The door to your room creaked quietly as you opened it, being careful to shut it softly. It clicked as it slid into pace, and you rubbed your face. Food would undoubtedly help you get in a better mood. Having your mind busy while you were on an empty stomach was hardly a good idea.

“Good, you’re awake. We’ve got a busy day ahead of us,” A voice called out. You jumped, a startled yelp escaping your lips. You covered your mouth as you sought out the voice, glaring at the owner. Dream was lounging against a wall across from you, and you reached out to shove at him playfully.

“Are you trying to make my soul leave my body?!” A laugh escaped him, though it felt almost tense. Was he still bothered by dinner last night? You didn’t care to mess with it, though. He’d likely get over himself. He usually did.

“Maybe I am. Do I get to keep you here if I do?” He mused as they walked, heading towards the dining hall once again. Like it was a normal morning. You truly wished it was, honestly. Nonetheless, you sighed, head shaking.

“You know I can’t stay, Dream. As much as you want me to. This is a matter bigger than you or I. Besides! I think it’ll be good for me, don’t you think?” You beamed over at him. It seemed like it would do you good, truthfully. It was presenting you with at least one option you had never been offered here: Training. The opportunity to fight and defend yourself. You deserved that much at least, right?

“I think it’ll be dangerous. They’ve never had a good reputation, how do I know you’ll be safe?” He threw back in rebuttal, making you sigh heavily. Always fretted over your wellbeing.

“Techno said it’s not that bad, I have no reason to not believe him.” You settled into your normal spot at the table. Breakfast was much simpler than dinner. The food was already set out, waiting to be eaten. You didn’t waste time, reaching for a few various dishes to eat.

“I beg to differ,” Dream murmured as he also sat, grabbing stuff to eat as well. You rolled your eyes, not in the mood for whatever was with him. He just didn’t like Techno, for whatever reason. Always so protective of you. Though it was reassuring in a weird way.

“Whatever you say. What have you got planned for me today?” You queried instead, eager to change the subject away from your fiancé. You really didn’t want to deal with whatever problem there was with that subject.

“Going out to the markets in town. Make sure there isn’t anything that you need before leaving. Let the people in the capital see you one last time. It’ll probably eat most of your day, though,” He said. That was fine. It sounded like a good plan. You could do with a few things from the market. A few things to remind you of home.

You nodded for a couple of heartbeats, finishing the mouthful of food in your mouth before speaking. “That sounds fine to me. I wouldn’t mind picking up a couple of things to bring along. Oh! Techno! Good morning.” The pink-haired prince had walked into the dining hall when you were speaking to Dream. He settled across from you, glancing briefly to Dream before you.

“Good morning,” he finally returned, causing you to smile. Dream practically brooded beside you as your attention shifted away from him. You just elected to ignore it for the time being. He’d probably be just fine once the both of you were in the market. You were allowed to exchange some words with Techno before heading out for the day, at least.

“Did you sleep well?” You asked, reaching for your cup with a contented hum. He nodded in response, gaze moving to Dream. You warily eyed the pair of them, trying to read whatever silent stand off they seemed to be having. Was it over the whole training thing? Either way, it was ridiculous and you did not want to deal with whatever tension was between them.

Clearing your throat, you attempted conversation once more with a soft, “Did you finish your books?” Techno’s gaze quickly pivoted back to you, seeming to forget about Dream for a few minutes. Good.

“Most of them. I couldn’t finish the last one before I needed to sleep,” He replied. You nodded in acknowledgment. That was impressive, though. It did make you wonder how much he slept. Not like you could tell. Not with that mask on his face.

“Well, you can finish that one today. Dream and I are going out to the market to pick up some things before I leave. I’ll probably spend time with my family after dinner,” You explained. You wiped at your hands, turning to look at Dream and offering him a smile.

“We’ll have plenty of time to talk starting tomorrow,” Techno mused. There was something almost smug in his voice, and you could hear Dream huff beside you. What the hell had happened with them? You weren’t given much time to ponder, as Dream stood up and held a hand towards you.

“Ready?” He asked, and you nodded slightly. You eyed his hand for a few moments, debating on if you should take it. You ultimately did, allowing him to pull you up. You waved towards Techno, offering him a smile. Even as you were nearly hauled away by Dream, you could hear that huff of his that signified laughter. He met your wave with a shake of his head, returning the action all the same.

You were content, despite how quickly Dream was walking. The interactions with Techno were pleasant, and increasingly less awkward. You caught up with Dream, letting go of his hand as you did. “Alright, do you have any specific plans on where to visit?” You questioned, forcing him to slow down.

“Not exactly. I figure we can just walk through the market, see what catches your eye,” He mumbled. You nodded along, finding it fair enough. You didn’t entirely know what you were looking for. So, for that reason, browsing around didn't seem too bad of an idea.

The walk wasn't too long. Slowly the calm path towards the castle morphed into busy streets, teeming with life. The heart of the capital was alive with noise, vendors in their stalls calling to people in the streets. The smell of various foods wafted in the air around you as you walked, a certain type of happiness settling in your chest. It was easy to forget the melancholy that hung around the castle while you were here.

It wasn't too long of wandering before you were noticed. Vendors would excitedly call to you, trying to get you to buy some of their wares. You did always look, complimenting whatever they were selling half the time. From one stand, you purchased a trinket box, the metal heavy in your hands. The sun caught onto the ornate lid, causing the jewels set into it to sparkle. The sides were less flashy, but still well made, with roses carved into the side. It spoke to you, practically, reminding you warmly of the kingdom you were going to leave.

As you continued your trek, an older voice called to you with urgency, a soft, "Princess! Come, come!" An older man beckoned to you, age wearing down his face and hands. You didn't even need to think twice, walking towards him with Dream in tow. The man behind you was busying himself with a stuffed bun he had bought, seemingly content to just follow you. The old man smiled as you walked over, looking down to his wares.

Knives and daggers covered the majority of the surface, though there was an occasional sword or bundle of arrows. The handles had intricate designs carved into the leather, though the blades were no less sharp or decorated. "I hear you're going on a dangerous journey soon," The man's voice interrupted you. You moved your attention to his face, meeting his gaze calmly.

"It's really not as dangerous as everyone is making it seem," You explained, offering a smile. The man just laughed, shaking his head at you.

"Off, alone, with a man too afraid to show his face and hides behind the face of a beast. If he is comfortable wearing the face of a beast, surely he is one himself." There was an edge to his voice and you could only sigh. Gossip from servants traveled fast, and it seemed stories of Techno's appearance had already reached the capital. You didn't care too much, though his words were minutely unsettling.

"You need to protect yourself from him. I have the perfect thing for you- free of charge. We can't have you getting hurt in enemy territory." He explained, rustling around to pick up one of the daggers. You were tempted to protest the price, surely not wanting to take from him. It wasn't right. Even if he did offer. Yet you could tell he wouldn't accept a single coin you gave him.

He presented the dagger to you for inspection, which you did humor. It was a pretty dagger, a dark leather grip with flowers sitting amongst vines of thorns. The cross guard was simple, curved, with a flower sitting in the middle of either side. The pommel similarly matched, while the thorned vines crawled down onto the design in the metal. It felt perfect in your hands, and you could have sworn the man had made it just for you.

You looked up to him, his dark eyes twinkling with something you couldn't place. "It's beautiful, thank you," You murmured your thanks. Any thought of rejecting it had left you the moment the leather fell to your hand. He seemed delighted by this, reaching to take it back to put it in a sheath. The sheath was put into a belt before being handed off to you.

"Keep yourself safe, little one," he told you. You nodded, fingers running along the leathed of the belt. You didn't really wear belts, so it felt almost foreign in your grip.

"Here," Dream interrupted, picking up the belt. He didn't waste time in fastening it around your waist, the dagger comfortably sitting against your hip. It was positioned so that your dominant hand could grab the dagger easily, should you need it.

"I thought you didn't want me to have weapons," You grumbled. Dream was silent as he resumed his earlier position, walking with you once more. With each step, the dagger hit your hip. It was a foreign feeling, but not an unwelcome one.

"I don't, but I don't trust Technoblade. A dagger is straightforward enough to use. Even you can't fuck it up." He sounded bitter at the mention of Techno, but seemed to divert it to light hearted teasing. You huffed, rolling your eyes.

"Maybe I'll try it on you first." You shoved him with your shoulder, unable to hide your laugh at his affronted gasp.

"You wouldn’t!" His exclamation was followed by a laugh, and you couldn’t help but smile. He was one of the things you would miss.

The sun climbed even higher into the sky as the pair of you walked, with you buying a few trinkets. You bought a few pieces of jewelry from various vendors, too fond of their work to part with it. Who knew when you would be given the chance to visit this market again. You and Dream had stopped by a small bakery to eat lunch, listening to the tales around you and watching the streets.

It was only when the sun was falling, and the daytime vendors began to pack up, that you started your way back. Dinner time would be soon. As the streets emptied, the activity dwindling down, you felt the melancholy creep back over you once more.

"I got you something," Dream finally interrupted, causing you to look up at him. Your eyebrows knitted for a moment, trying to remember when he had snuck off to get it. Or maybe he had brought it with him.

"You did?" You asked, pausing in the street.

"I got it earlier this week, but today seemed a good time to give it to you," He explained, rustling around for a few moments. He grasped a small bag, pulling it out and untying it. He didn't look directly at you as he pulled out the piece inside, instead focused solely on it.

It was a necklace- a very extravagant one at that. You don't think you'd ever had one like it. Multiple strands of beads connected three large jewels together, with charms comprised of smaller jewels in the shape of roses dangling from it intermittently. The light caught the yellow jewels, though red tinged the outside of them. It was always roses, wasn't it? It always had been.

In the very middle sat a metal plate, carved with the image of a picked rose with its thorns clipped. It was pretty. You couldn’t even imagine how much it cost. "Thank you, Dream. You didn’t have to get me something like this," You had started. He huffed in response, moving behind you to drape it around your neck.

"I know, but I wanted to. I hope whenever you wear it you think of me," he mumbled as he fastened it, the comfortable weight settling against your neck. You touched it, smiling softly.

"I will, Dream. Don't make me cry, though. There's too much left to do today." You knew you would be a mess by the end of the night. After all, this was your family you were leaving. It was going to sting just a little.

The walk back to the castle was relatively silent. Dream was thinking about something, but you didn't press. You weren't sure you could handle it right now. Once you had returned and eaten dinner, it was time to spend time with your family. Which, truthfully, you were glad to. Dream didn't protest on going home, though he did send a final accusatory glance at Techno as he left.

The prince didn't linger after dinner, simply bidding you a good night as he went to retire to his own rooms. You were fine with that, though. It let you put your whole concentration on your family as the four of you sat in one of the rooms. You all spoke fondly of everything you could think of. All of you were almost reluctant to say goodnight.

"I can't believe my baby is leaving tomorrow," Your mom finally broached the topic. You offered a sad smile, moving to hug her.

"I'll always write to you," you whispered, face nestled into her neck. She didn't say anything for a long while, just holding you there. You didn't complain, letting her do so. As she pulled back after she seemed ready, she reached for the blanket that had been sat in her lap.

"This was my great grandmother's, and has been passed down to the eldest daughter of everyone in our family. It's your turn to take it," She murmured, handing it to you. The weave was heavy, the red fabric carefully twined with golden accents. You could tell it was old, but you were extremely glad to have it.

"Thank you, I'll cherish it. Should I have any daughters, I'll give it to them as well." It was unknown if you would have children. It depended on how the marriage required itself to be upheld. Your gaze turned to your dad next.

"You always were getting into trouble and going on adventures. Don't get into too much trouble over there, okay?" He murmured affectionately, offering you a hug. This one wasn't nearly as long as your mother's, but that was fine. He wasn't as attached as your mother, nor as affectionate, so the hug meant the world to you.

You had nodded, not trusting your words right now. This was the worst part. Leaving. The goodbyes. Even harder was turning to George, who stared at you with an almost sad smile. "I'm going to miss you. Who else am I going to walk through the gardens with now?" He asked, causing you to give a watery laugh. You imagined he would make do.

"You always did love the gardens, so here's a piece of home. Only some light reading." He extended a hand, holding a thick book out to you. The leather cover was embossed with various flowers, and you smiled. It was a flower guide. Flowers were important to your kingdom, and though you were fond of them you never bothered to learn them. Now it was time, you supposed.

"I'll miss you, George. Try not to have too much fun without me," Your voice cracked as you spoke. He nodded, arms curling tightly around you within seconds. You sniffled, hiding against his shoulder and clinging to him. His hugs were always the best, not having them readily available to you would hurt. You didn't like it.

"Just promise me you'll write and take care of yourself." You could only nod as his voice reverberated through you. You didn't want to let go, but the seconds bled into minutes and sleep was calling you. Even as reluctant as you were, you did let go.

"I'll write to everyone. As often as I can," You said. You choked a little, refusing to say goodbye. Even as you walked with George to your room, you couldn't bring yourself to say the word. Maybe tomorrow would be better. Next Chapter | >

#dream x reader #dream #dream smp #dream team #dreamwastaken #kingdom au #reader insert #sleepy bois family #sleepy bois inc #technoblade x reader #technoblade #t&t

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layercake · 3 years

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Why Naoto is Heavily Trans Coded, and How The Discussion Surrounding Him Needs to Change

Hello, I’ve never written or posted anything like this before LOL so this is a bit daunting. But this subject is something that’s been bothering me for a long time, and I wanted to get it out somewhere. So let’s talk about how Naoto Shirogane is heavily trans coded, and how the fandom has a problematic culture surrounding the issue that really needs to change.

Tw // discussion of misogyny , transphobia , and mentions of harassment

Initial Shadow Confrontation

Since the discussion is most often about what’s “canon” and what’s not, let’s first take a look at what the game actually does give us about Naoto’s character. During the confrontation with Naoto’s shadow, we learn that Naoto idolized detectives as a kid, and wanted to be one himself when he was older.

However, this posed a problem for him in multiple ways. One, he was (is) still a child, and the people in his field don’t take him seriously because of it. He tries desperately to escape this fact, to try and act as mature as possible, but ultimately he can’t change how others will perceive him at his age.

This is what the shadow confrontation focuses on most heavily. But then it switches to discussing the other part of the issue-- the fact that Naoto’s ideal image of a detective is a man, and he “isn’t.”

At the end, Yukiko says “You must know already that what you yearn for isn’t to become an adult or to become a boy,” and Naoto accepts it. This is what most people point to when saying that Naoto can’t be trans, because he agrees that it wasn’t what he wished for. So, easy, right? If you take this as him telling the truth, then it looks like an open and shut case-- he isn’t trans. But Naoto’s actions don’t really fit what he says here.

The issue starts with these next lines (below) in particular. To me, Naoto’s tone in the first line is regretful, and doesn’t strike me as a sentiment someone who is cisgender would necessarily hold. Why would he want to “change into a man?” To fit his ideal image of a detective? As he says here, yes.

(Real quick before I continue, it’s not clear in the dialogue screenshot but it’s important to note that Naoto does say “yes” to Yukiko’s question about him not liking being a girl. He nods his head)

The narrative that the game tries to go with after this is that the “ideal image” Naoto wanted to live up to, including the male aspect of it, was unattainable and formed primarily because he felt that was the only way he could be a detective.

But, is this really that much of a problem? We all look up to certain types of people, people that we want to be like-- and for many, this can factor into gender identity as well. If Naoto really just wanted to be a cool, male detective, that doesn’t at all negate that being trans would be a part of that for him.

Naoto’s other words and actions, as well as the framing of this scene as a whole, make the scenario feel a lot less believable to me for multiple reasons. Naoto never initiates the conversation that him wanting to be a boy is incorrect-- Yukiko does. Naoto isn’t even the one to trigger his shadow-- Kanji does that. Naoto had a lot less agency in a lot of these decisions than the other characters did with their shadows.

Naoto’s Continued Actions

The fragility of the narrative Atlus put together for Naoto continues to grow throughout the rest of the game, due to the way he behaves after the initial shadow confrontation.

For starters, it’s implied that Naoto is not his birth name, something that i think a lot of people either miss or forget about-- and yet he continues to go by it throughout the course of the game. We never find out his deadname and he never expresses a desire to share it with anybody.

The day after the “reveal,” Naoto doesn’t change anything about his appearance, mannerisms, or how he presents himself. He honestly seems uncomfortable with the fact that everyone has found out, in a way that felt much like being outed to the whole school, as opposed to finally being seen and accepted for who you “really” are.

I understand that such a drastic shift in people’s perception of you would be overwhelming to anybody, no matter if you were cis or not. But if Atlus really wanted to hone in on the idea that Naoto was happy about this change, they could’ve at least made him…. Well, happy about it. Even if it was just a small smile, just a tiny indication of relief even despite how hard it will be to adjust, it would’ve made it at least a little more believable that this is what he really wanted.

But that’s not the case. Instead, he’s uncomfortable, he still binds, he still wears the school’s male uniform, and he still goes by Naoto. The only time any of this actually changes is if you as the protagonist push him to, which… is a whole other mess.

The fact that Naoto has even gotten to this point, though, speaks more volumes to me than anything else. Passing is not easy. Coming out is not easy. Naoto would have had to go through difficult lengths in order to get not only his school, but the country and media to see him as a man. He’s a well-known "detective prince".. someone was bound to look up his records and find out about it. That's a huge risk to take.

In addition to this, he binds. He goes by masculine pronouns and a masculine name. He very audibly changes his voice to be more masculine. I don’t know how to tell you this, but this is just…. not something cis people do? At least not comfortably.

In fact, doing all of this would have been incredibly uncomfortable for Naoto if he was cis. As someone who experiences dysphoria, looking like and being seen as a gender you are not can be really, really painful. If transitioning was something he really didn’t want, why would he put himself through all of that? Was it really to escape misogyny? Me asking this isn’t minimizing the issue at all, because I understand that it’s incredibly serious and hard for countless women. But I would generally think someone’s first reaction to facing misogyny isn’t to… completely change their identity and present as a different gender.

On top of being probably the hardest option of escaping misogyny available to him, and one of the most uncomfortable, presenting as a man doesn’t necessarily get rid of any prejudices Naoto may face. In fact, I would argue that it’s considerably more dangerous. Especially in a rural town like Inaba, where people seem to not really understand or approve of being LGBT. Naoto is smart, he would have thought of all of this. So why?

Inherent Transphobia of Naoto’s Arc

There is something to be said about how much misogyny is present in Japan’s workforce, especially in fields like Naoto’s, and the importance there is in discussing that. The base idea behind his struggles and message isn’t inherently a bad one, but the way the game went about it was problematic because it put down transgender identities in the process.

The first time I watched Naoto’s shadow confrontation, it was really distressing to me. The game continuously repeats the idea that you can’t “cross the barrier of the sexes,” that Naoto “can never really be a man,” and that “you can change your name, but you can never change who you “really” are.” I hope I don’t need to explain why this is a problem.

Naoto’s wish to be a man, regardless of what was driving it, is depicted as something temporary and childish. Something that Naoto “didn’t really want,” something that was just an excuse to run away from the misogyny he was facing. Even if it was unintentional, this message is incredibly harmful to transgender people.

It would have been a better and much more coherent message about misogyny if the writers had steered clear of trans themes entirely. In fact, I think they did so well with Sae’s character in Persona 5-- she’s in the same field of work, facing very similar struggles, but she doesn’t react in the same way as Naoto at all.

Kanji and Homophobia

It’s even worse that Naoto’s “reveal,” on top of being problematic by itself, is used as a method to bury Kanji’s exploration of his own sexuality. The problems with Kanji’s own shadow are bad enough to warrant their own long rant, but the reveal that Naoto was “really a girl” this whole time allows the story to completely wave off his gayness for good.

This isn’t something unique to this game-- the trope of “two boys fall in love, but one of them turns out to be a girl so it’s fine” has been used numerous times in other media to explore the topic half-assedly. It plays with the “exoticness” or “drama” of a gay romance, but backs off at the end in order to uphold societal norms and prevent backlash.

This doesn’t really give any kind of good commentary on gay relationships, nor does it depict them in a positive or helpful manner. It isn’t something that these games should be getting kudos for doing.

Misogyny?

I think there’s also something to be said about how poignantly bad Atlus is at really tackling the problem of misogyny. It tries, especially with characters like Ann and Sae, and in certain aspects it can succeed. But then they have scenes like the pageant and Every Beach Scene Ever, where the women are forced to wear swimsuits or revealing clothing against their will, or their bodies are talked about without their consent. There is consistently a character in each persona game who is forced to do the whole misogynistic dipshit gimmick that’s supposed to be funny-- Junpei, Yosuke, Teddie, Morgana, Ryuji-- and while this is obviously not a Persona specific problem by a longshot, it’s still indicative of how unsuccessful these games often are in delivering the message that society’s systemic misogyny is an issue.

This is something I think about a lot when people try and argue that Naoto’s story can’t be about him being trans because it’s “an important message about misogyny.” Atlus often doesn’t deliver on such stories already, and they certainly didn’t with Naoto. As soon as Naoto returns to “living as a woman” he’s subjected to the same misogyny that the other girls are. His chest is commented on, he’s forced to be in the beauty pageant, he’s made uncomfortable in the bath scenes-- really, all Atlus did after the reveal was make the problem worse for him.

On top of this, his story never actually meaningfully tackles the problem of misogyny in the detective force. It’s not a major part of his social link or the general plot of the game-- honestly, it’s barely even touched on at all after the initial confrontation. Thus, the idea that “Naoto can’t be trans because it erases a story about misogyny” is just plain untrue. There never was a coherent one in the first place.

Problems Within the Fandom

Despite all of this, there is such an intense backlash from the majority of the fandom if anybody dares to bring up these issues with Naoto’s story. Naoto being trans is generally seen as something ridiculous and stupid, or something to insult and mock people for.

I understand that there's always going to be people who say provocative stuff like this, no matter what anyone does, and that it’s not something exclusive to this particular fandom or character. But the problem is that this rhetoric isn't just from them anymore--the consensus among so much of the fandom seems to be either that Naoto absolutely cannot be trans, or that speaking about it at all is "annoying discourse" and taboo. Even from fans that are LGBT or allies themselves.

This in and of itself is such a telling thing to me. if you find yourself getting angry about the subject, really ask yourself why. Is it such a problem for people to reclaim a transphobic story? Is it such a problem for a character to be trans in the first place? There is room for discussion and nuance regarding this situation, but we have to make it for ourselves. We can accept that Atlus’s base game will never actually give us a coherent story about either misogyny nor being transgender with Naoto’s story. But petty arguments and insults thrown at people who bring up this topic isn’t any of that-- it’s just poorly masked transphobia.

So at the end of the day, no, Naoto being is trans is not “canon.” Of course Naoto would not actually be allowed to be trans, he is a main character in a game series where the only explicitly LGBT characters have been consistently buried, stereotyped, or demonized with only a few rare exceptions.

Yes, you’re allowed to headcanon whatever you want about him. I can’t stop you from wanting a story about misogyny, or from seeing Naoto’s gender as something more fluid than I do. But you can’t ignore the fact that his story, as written in canon, is laden with transphobia despite its intentions. It’s not a ridiculous or harmful thing for trans people to want to reclaim that.

There are still a lot more issues with how Naoto is treated in the game-- especially in his romance route-- but that’s a whole other can of worms I’m not ready to unpack today lol

Hopefully all of this made sense though, and feel free to bring up anything else I may have missed or point out any issues you might have with it :-) Thanks for reading!

#persona 4 #naoto shirogane #p4 #persona #naoto #trans naoto #meta #long post #discourse #misogyny #transphobia #god?? god!! help me #this is literally such a mess lol But #sorry for lack of pictures in the second half also

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blazedgraysons · 4 years

Note

okay so i didn’t really want to send a concept to you bc for some reason this anon thing scars me but... virgin reader and gray? mayb he eats her out idk?

A/N: wait honestly i’m so sad that this whole anon thing scares you. like feel free to come talk to me whenever you want, anon or not. but thank you for the request, sweet nonny, i hope i do it justice.

Also!!!! Being a virgin is nothing to be ashamed of . Literally doesn’t matter when you lose it as long as it’s with someone you trust and you’re okay with!! Now let’s get into it.

Warnings: yeah this is literally 2.8k words of just gray wanting to fuck. it’s nsfw for sure

-------

You weren’t trying to blueball Grayson, at least not intentionally.

It had started one Saturday night. You were in bed, flipping through some magazine when Grayson walked in from his shower. Your relationship is still very new, having just become comfortable to spend the night with one another.

He’s wearing nothing but a tiny pair of black briefs, water droplets sliding down his chest and towards his-

“Hey. Eyes up here.” He jokes, tilting your chin so you're looking at one another. You close your mouth, not even realizing you had started drooling. He’s smug, smirking when he discovers the effect he has on your body.

“Hey.” You whisper, still wrapped up entirely in the presence of your boyfriend.

“ Hi.” He whispers back, moving closer until his lips are brushing yours. You pull him into you, wrapping a hand around his neck so he can kiss you properly. It’s overwhelming, body heat radiating onto you, and you can’t touch him anywhere without feeling skin. This is the territory you’re most familiar with, making out needily like the both of you are high schoolers again. You’re still trying to pull him closer to you, not being able to get enough of him, and it’s not long before he’s crawling onto the bed with you.

He leans down, trying to get you to lie back, and you’re so distracted by what he's doing with his mouth that you don’t even notice his hand moving towards your leg. He trails his hand up your thigh, rough and calloused fingers moving higher and higher until -

You jump, trying to move away from him, and he pulls away rapidly, concern written all over his face.

“You good?”

“I need to pee.” You both speak at the same time. He looks at you for a moment, taking in your frantic, almost scared expression. Your eyes are wide and not meeting his gaze, breathing heavily. He’s not stupid; he can tell something else is bothering you, but you didn’t bring it up so he’s not going to press you.

“Yeah, go ahead.” You scramble out of bed and practically run to the bathroom. You know you’re overreacting and should probably just be honest with him. But you don’t want him to look at you different, embarrassed that he’ll only see you as inexperienced, innocent, and want to find someone else who can please him.

You splash some water on your face and walk back into the bedroom, Grayson dressed and some wilderness survival video playing on his phone. You kiss his cheek before turning to sleep away whatever shame you’re feeling, and not another word is said.

The second incident happens a few days later. You wanted to surprise Grayson with vegan french toast, for once, instead of the other way around. You had planned to make him breakfast in bed, but ever the early riser, he’s up before you can even put the food in the pan.

“What’s this, Angel?” He sneaks up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You jump slightly before turning to kiss him.

“I wanted to surprise you with breakfast, but you woke up too early.” He hums, watching over your shoulder as you measure out the egg substitute before placing kisses on your neck. What starts off as light and playful turns into deep sucks, sloppily kissing your neck in hopes of ending this morning differently than you had planned.

“ What’s up with you today, Bailey? You’re never this nice to me in the morning.” You moan softly at a particularly harsh suck, knowing that you’re probably going to have to go heavy on the makeup today.

“Don’t know. Think I just woke up hungry for you instead.” His voice is shot, gravelly with sleep and horniness. You’d be turned on if he didn’t press himself against you at that moment, letting you feel all of him.

“Gray.”

He hums, showing he’s listening, but more preoccupied with trying to move his hands under your leggings. You move away from him once his hands slip under your waistband. He looks at you, head cocked like a puppy. You get a chance to take a good look at him, clad in only his L.A. Kings sweatshirt and briefs. His hair is messy from sleep, but if you’re honest, all you can see is his morning wood. He looks at you expectantly, waiting to hear why you stopped him.

“I don’t want the toast to burn.”

He looks at the stove, then at you, then back at the stove.

“Angel, it’s not even on.” He places his hand in the pan, proving his point.

“Yeah, but if it gets too hot when I do turn it on, the toast will burn easier. Simple science, Gray.” You both know what you’re saying makes absolutely no sense. Still, you’ve turned around, finishing making his breakfast and changing the subject.

Grayson looks like he wants to say something, but he drops it as well, answering questions about whatever workout he has planned today even though he knows you have zero interest. He makes a note to ask you about this later, but ultimately forgets about it, giving you a few more days of peace.

The final straw is a movie night.

You’re both laid up on the couch, scrolling through the different titles on Netflix. You’re lying on top of him, Grayson’s arm wrapped lazily around your stomach. His hand traces small patterns while clicking on a title to read a description before moving on to the next.

“What do you think?” You look up from your phone, noticing he’s stopped on some random documentary. You honestly don’t really care what Grayson picks, more than content to just spend time with him.

“I don’t care, amour. You choose.” The tracing on your stomach stops at the nickname, and you feel his breath hitch before he starts the patterns again.

“You know, I don’t think it really matters.”

“It doesn’t?” You look at him, wondering where he’s going with this.

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t think we’re going to be doing that much watching anyways.” He moves you over so you’re lying on top of him, faces mere inches away from each other.

“Oh, really? Shame because I was really looking forward to,” You turn to check the screen “Velvet buzzsaw.” He laughs a little before his face turns serious again. You watch as he struggles to focus on you, eyes fluttering down to your lips every few seconds.

“Yeah, a shame.” He mutters, pulling you closer. He kisses you, and your heart rate doubles. If there’s anything about Grayson, it’s that he never does anything halfway. He always kisses you like it’s the first time, making you want to fall in love with him all over again.

It doesn’t take too long for Grayson to become restless, wanting to start moving the night in a different direction. His hand slowly moves toward your ass, squeezing lightly. His kisses down your neck, sucking hard while he subconsciously grinds into you. It isn't until he starts pulling at your shirt, gesturing for you to take it off, that you pull away again.

“Okay, what’s wrong, Y/N?” He sits up to face you, breathing heavily.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean any time I, y’know, try and do anything with you, you just stop me. Do you not want to sleep with me?” His mind is going a mile a minute, frustrated and confused by your hot and cold tendencies. He doesn’t want to pressure you, more than willing to do whatever you need to feel comfortable. However, the lack of explanation is leaving him baffled.

“Are you not attracted to me?” He asks slowly, trying to consider every option in his mind. You stare at him like he'd suddenly grown two heads.

“Are you seriously asking me that?”

“So... so what’s going on, Y/N?” He runs a shaky hand through his hair, “I mean, I’m not trying to pressure you or anything, but you gotta understand, you’re killing me here.” He smiles weakly. You lean you head back, closing your eyes before blurting out,

“It’snotthatI’mnotattractedtoyouI’mjustavirgin.” You rush it out, mumbling, and Grayson’s not even sure if you were speaking English at that point.

“I’m sorry?” You look at him, bewildered that he would apologize, before realizing he’s just asking for a repetition. You sigh and take a deep breath before repeating,

“It’s not that I’m not attracted to you. I’m just a virgin.” You close your eyes again, waiting for teasing or whatever cruel expectations your brain has given you. Instead, Grayson surprises you.

“That’s it?”

“What do you mean that’s it? Yes, that’s it.”

“I mean, I understand if you’re embarrassed, but Angel, it’s not that embarrassing.” You finally open your eyes to look at him, still expecting to see him holding back laughs or looking at you with pity. Instead, he’s just looking at you with more love and adoration than you’ve ever seen.

“I know it’s not, and I know it’s stupid. I’ve just always wanted it to be with the right guy, and I know for a fact that it’s you. It’s just-“ You pause, not wanting to be even more vulnerable than you’re already being.

“Just what?” He questions, softly encouraging you to continue.

“It’s just what if I’m not good enough for you. What if I’m not as good as the other girls you’ve been with, and you decide you don’t want to be with me anymore.” He does snort loudly at that.

“Where would you even get that from? I’m not with you because I expect you to be like super good at sucking dick or some bullshit. I’m with you because I'm in love with you, and if that means waiting days, weeks, or years until you’re ready, I’m fine with that. I just want you to be honest and not feel like you can’t tell me these things.” His confession leaves you warm, more in love than you’ve been before, even if it’s not the most ideal circumstances.

“But, I don’t want you to be like unhappy or unsatisfied until I’m ready.”

“So, let’s go slow.” He suggests.

“Slow?” You cock your head, not really understanding where he was going with this.

He hums in agreement, “Yeah. We’ll take it step-by-step. Whatever you’re okay with, I’m okay with.”

You lean in, kissing him again, but this time you’re leading. You push him back into the couch, crawling into his lap. He moans lowly, happy with the attention, and holds you closer to him. You grab the back of his shirt, pulling at it to get him to take it off. Grayson grabs your hand, stopping you before pulling away. You lean in again, wanting to continue with where you were going.

“ Woah, angel, slow down. We’re not gonna do this now; I want to actually make it special for you. “ You whine at that, appreciating the fact that Grayson cares enough to want to make it memorable and romantic for you, but you feel more than ready to show how much you love him in the most intimate way. He notices your frustration, letting out a deep breath before suggesting,

“We can always do something else.”

“Something else.” You agree, dazed and just drunk off the Grayson Dolan effect. He smirks at your response and moves you from on top of him.

Your heart drops to your stomach when Grayson slides off the couch, onto his knees, and in between your legs.

He grabs the waistband of your shorts, kissing where the elastic meets the skin. You can’t take your eyes off of him, watching as he takes in every inch that’s exposed as he pulls your shorts down. He tosses them over his shoulder while taking in what’s before him. He kisses your inner right thigh, moving higher to the apex before switching to the other one. He repeats this on the other leg.

“You okay?” He checks in with you, wanting to make sure he’s never doing too much or not enough. You nod eagerly, not wanting him to stop now that he’s begun.

He takes a moment before continuing, softly kissing your clit over your underwear. You hold your breath, watching as he places another kiss, and another, and another before he’s gently sucking it into his mouth. The pleasure isn’t overwhelming, underwear still providing a barrier from what his mouth can truly offer. Nevertheless, you whimper slightly, and Grayson groans at the sound. He let’s go, starting to pull down your underwear, eyes checking in with you again. You nod, and he pulls your thong down, exposing yourself for him. You try and close your legs, not missing the way his eyes darken a full shade, and his stare grows more intense. He moves them apart, pulling a leg over his shoulder so he has full access.

“Fuckin’ perfect.” Grayson takes a deep breath, wanting to savor this. He would be the first man (and hopefully last) to touch you like this, to hear what it sounds like you when someone feels the most sensitive parts of you, to see what it looks like when your cum. Frankly, the thought makes his head spin, and at this point, he doesn’t know whether he’s doing this more for him or for you.

He kisses your clit again, this time the feeling stronger with nothing blocking the way. He pulls away, checking your reaction for any discomfort before licking you slowly. He uses two fingers to spread you apart, giving him full opportunity to do whatever his heart desires.

He tastes you growing wetter, sweet musk feeling the air, and he’s already addicted, more than content to die in between your legs. He fully takes your clit into his mouth, suckling slightly. You’re whimpering lowly, trying to hold back any noises. Grayson, however, wants the opposite.

“C’mon, let me hear you.” He leans back, voice hoarse, weak, and so fucking wrecked. His lips are swollen and shiny, and you could cry from just how erotic it all looks. He leans back, giving your clit a long hard suck, and you nearly scream, crying out from the blinding, white-hot pleasure he’s giving you.

“There she is.” He groans, more than pleased with himself. He takes a finger, scooping up some of your wetness before slowly inserting it.

His dick twitches, and it takes everything in him not to cum right there. You feel so warm and wet and so fucking tight. You’re gripping him like a vice, and if that’s how you feel with one finger, he has no idea what he’s gonna do when he actually fucks you.

“ Fuck, Grayson. So good.” You can feel yourself leaking onto the couch, and the noises he’s making are obscene. You would feel embarrassed if it wasn’t for the fact that you think you’re gonna cum.

He adds another finger, trying to stretch you out. He’s entirely making out with your pussy now, eyes closed, and just enjoying everything about this. He’s slurping up everything you release for him, and it’s wet, messy, and sloppy just the way he loves it.

You thought you would know what to expect when you came, having made yourself cum plenty of times yourself. But nothing could prepare you for an orgasm brought on by Grayson Dolan.

The coil tightly wounded in your stomach suddenly snaps, releasing waves of pleasure all over your body. Grayson leans back, not wanting to miss your face when he makes you cum for the first time out of many. Your head thumps on the back of the couch, mouth falling into a perfect O, eyes rolling into the back of your head. Grayson’s hooked and continues to pump his fingers slowly, not being able to tear his eyes away from how hot you look.

When you’re finally done, he moves his hand up to his mouth, sucking whatever’s left on his fingers, dark eyes stuck on you. If you weren’t so exhausted, you swear you would’ve fucked him then and there.

“Well?” He asks, watching you put yourself back together.

“Holy shit.” You breathe out, brain completely turned to mush, and not able to form anything remotely coherent. He laughs loudly, leaning back on his shoulders to look at you.

“Do you want me to-“ You gesture to his lower half, dick still very hard and not going away.

“No, I’m good. Step-by-step remember. I’m going to use the bathroom for a second though” He gets up, stretching nonchalantly before walking away. You get up as well, making his favorite snacks and queuing up his favorite movie. He deserves it. And when you wake him up with head the next morning, let’s just say it’s because he deserves that too.

#this whole thing reminds me of lara jean and peter #could not tell you why #grayson dolan #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan blurb #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan smut #dolan twins #dolan twins blurb #dolan twins x reader #dolan twins fic #dolan twins smut #blazedwritings

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comradeacerbus · 3 years

Text

Miraak Headcannons (for fanfic)

Okay, so, I’ve been planning a Skyrim fic for some time now. I started one, but it fell through due to a lack of proper planning. Now that I know what I’m doing, I’m gonna try again! I’m just posting some notes on everyone’s favorite jackass here because I needed something to post. Obviously, since this is my fic, I’ll be referencing my granola-crunching pacifist Dragonborn, Haldis Ragnardottir.

Bethesda didn’t give us much to work with but that just makes it more interesting. I’m just getting a feel for his personality now so I can keep him consistent.

* Miraak was already getting up there in age by the time his revolt against Alduin fell through, so he’s a bit old and grey now. Maybe in his sixties physically, though he looks more past his use by date because of how Oblivion has affected his outward appearance.

* Stupidly tall because, yknow, Atmorans.

* He’s a dirty old man. He doesn’t come off that way initially, but internally, Miraak is a pervert. While he won’t get physical with women, he won’t hesitate to say something pervy.

* Just because he’s a bit pervy doesn’t mean he’s promiscuous. He certainly has game, I imagine, but he feels he’s too old to go throwing his weight around. It’s mostly for his own entertainment

* He loves to make people uncomfortable, especially our little baby Dwagonbown. Constantly picking on her, saying weird pervy shit, just constantly flustering her for his own amusement.

* A really good talker, can worm his way out of any bad situation with his words. He’s also a natural politician. He can make any insane remark and easily justify it to anyone who’s willing to listen to him.

* He’s no liar though. Not unlike Odahviing, he might not tell the whole truth, but he won’t tell much in the way of lies. He’ll just manipulate the truth. It’s no wonder he was so able to lead a cult, really.

* Literate in multiple languages. Obviously the Imperial language spoke in Tamriel and Dovahzul, but he is also fluent in Daedric and has dabbled in Falmer and Dwemer dialects as well, though he dislikes the cultures themselves as an Atmoran. He probably started looking into them out of sheer boredom in Apocrypha.

* He’s definitely looked into more than just languages in his time in Oblivion. He’s looked into various magics, histories of ancient civilizations, Aedra, Daedra, trades, and everything in between. In other words, Miraak knows his shit about a lot of things.

* In spite of how much he knows about a wide range of subjects, a jack of all trades is a master of none. He’s not talented in all the fields he’s studied, but he’s honed his main skills to a fine point. Namely the art of shouting, various styles of swordplay, and the main schools of magic.

* He frowns very strongly upon thieving and sneaking about. Subtly is one thing, but being sneaky and deceitful is a whole nother ball game to him. He dislikes the idea of assassinations, especially the use of poison. He much prefers the ancient Atmoran-Nordic tradition of openly challenging an authority figure for his seat.

* Under all the arrogance, Miraak actually does have some wisdom to him, and he does learn from his and others’ mistakes. He likes to pretend that he didn’t change after narrowly escaping Apocrypha, simply because he doesn’t want to admit that what he did was wrong, but he certainly has changed some of his views.

* Simply speaking of Oblivion’s Princes makes him uncomfortable because he wants nothing to do with them now, though he’d never admit that he’s afraid. He might be garbage in a lot of ways, but he’s definitely still human.

* Apocrypha has most certainly disfigured him, as well as the night Vahlok and his legion of Dragons burned his temple to the ground. He has some burns scars on his chest and some smaller ones on his face. They no doubt would have been worse, were it not for the metal of his mask. Apocrypha has made his skin pasty and his hair white and nasty looking no matter how much he cleans himself or walks around in the daylight. His sclera are also darkened permanently. He doesn’t wear his mask anymore, and instead prefers his hood when he returns to Tamriel, but he won’t usually show his face to anyone, aside from the Dragonborn, because he’s ashamed of what his choices have done to his body.

* He’s of an ectomorph body type. He’s super tall and towers over Haldis, but he’s not especially muscular. He’s got the broad shoulders of an early Nord, but he’s actually quite skinny. I imagine he tries his best to bulk up with his robes. The other cult leaders most certainly poked fun at him for him.

* After he and Haldis bury the hatchet and accept that they’re stuck together, I imagine he starts to see her as a niece/granddaughter/little sister figure. She doesn’t know much about shouting combatively, and he knows that her overall lack of fighting experience is likely to get her killed, so he begins teaching her from the ground up. It’s initially a thing out of necessity, but he later grows to enjoy it. Not like he’d admit it.

* He may have changed a little since his imprisonment, but he’ll still keep his pride forever. It’s what got him stuck with Herma-Mora, and it’s what got him through so much time in Oblivion.

* The main thing he was worried about for the time of his imprisonment was that he’d turn into a Seeker, but his will as a Dragonborn is likely what kept him from turning, so he’ll cling to his arrogance and his stubbornness till death does him part from Mundus.

* Yeah, he’s old fashioned and very stubborn, but he’s not unreasonable. He’ll listen to one’s argument, but with how well-spoken he is, he usually “wins” the debate, ultimately.

* Even if he is reasonable in the realm of debate, he will stop at nothing to get what he wants, even if it means using or hurting people to do so. This is a result of his inner Dovah. Haldis finds this rather insufferable and it’s one of the main reasons as to why they fight.

* When he gets drunk, he’ll sort of “forget” it’s not the Merithic Era anymore and will start speaking to people in Dovahzul and then get pissy when only Haldis can understand him. He doesn’t normally like to drink in his ripe old age, though, so it’s not something that happens often.

* A similar thing will also happen when he gets angry. He never loses his temper, but when he gets frustrated, he’ll start belting out Dovahzul rapidly.

* He may also speak Dovahzul to Haldis when trying to be subtle. For example, Haldis has to deal a lot in Skyrim’s politics as a diplomat, so if Miraak needs to tell her something or remind her to say something, he’ll tell her in Dovahzul so she doesn’t look dumb.

* The Dovahzul he speaks is a different dialect, though, given their difference in age, so things have been lost in translation from time time, resulting in small, humorous mishaps. He also finds Haldis’s accent when speaking Dovahzul to be very irritating, and mocks her for it quite a bit, usually saying that she sounds like she has a speech impediment.

* As her accent gets better, in his almighty opinion, they’ll have entire conversations together in Dovahzul when they’re alone, like out on the road or something.

I might reblog and take on some more here later. This is just some basic junk that’s not really organized. Also I did not proofread but shhhh

#ao3 fanfic #planning #character notes #Miraak #headcannons #Skyrim #I don’t understand why I have a thing for Peter Jessop’s characters but that’s okay whatever #Dragonborn #yayyyy

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rowyn-writes · 3 years

Text

Cinnamon and Sugar

Chapter Three

Warnings: language, fluff, mentions of a toxic relationship, small angst

Characters: Dean, Reader, Benny Lafitte (mentioned only)

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Dean let you sit in his car until the rain let up a bit. "God, I hate the rain." He grumbled.

"I love it." You whisper, your eyes wandering the parking lot. "When I was younger, and there was a thunderstorm, me and my siblings would make a fort and huddle underneath it together. We loved it when the power would go out. We would light candles and grab flashlights and play board games in the dark. Sometimes Andrew would read to us. But uh - it would be scary stories," You smiled. "He would scare the ever living crap out of us. Lena and Josh would would cuddle into my side, no matter how much I hated it, they would still do it."

"You really love your siblings." Dean noted, swallowing hard, memories of Sam flooding his head.

"I do." You nodded. "They're all I have. Sure, I have my parents, but it's not the same, you know? Growing up, my siblings and I fought like dogs and cats, but we knew each other better than anyone, even our parents. Even when I go months without seeing them, when we all get together, it's like we're still little kids, ya know? We goof around, we argue, we joke. It's like none of us ever grew up."

Dean stayed silent for a moment, and you weren't sure if your message was getting across. "Look, I know we don't know each other very well, but what I'm trying to say is, call your brother. I don't know what happened between you two, but it's obvious that you love him. You shouldn't waste all your time worrying about whether you should contact him first or if he's angry with you. Time is a precious thing and people often waste it."

"Damn, you're wise." Dean gave a quiet chuckle. "But you're right. I will call him soon, I'm just not ready yet." And with that, the Impala was enveloped in silence again. That is, until Dean's stomach let out a loud rumble. "Sorry," He apologized with a sheepish grin.

"Don't worry about it." You shrugged. "It looks like the rains letting up. Do you want to come inside and I can fix you some food?"

"Oh, I don't want to impose." He shook his head.

"Nonsense. You gave me a ride home, this is the least I can do."

Dean silently debated whether or not he should take you up on the offer, but ultimately agreed, seeing as he was starving. By the time you were under cover, you were both soaked.

As soon as you opened the door to your apartment, you were met with a warm blast of heat. A pleasant shiver ran down your spine.

You began to click your tongue, calling out for your moody cat. "Storm, c'mere buddy." Your cat glared at you stubbornly from his place on the window seal. You rolled your eyes, slipping off your jacket and hanging it over the back of the chair.

"Sorry," You apologized to Dean. "My cat's being a little bitch." The man let out a laugh at your comment. "I gave him a bath and clipped his claws yesterday; now he's pissed at me."

"How in the hell do you cut a cat's nails?" He questioned, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Very carefully." You noticed that Dean was shivering. "Let me grab you a towel. I think I have some of my exes clothes. You're about the same size."

He was going to object when you silenced him with a look. You went to your room and began rummaging around in your draws, eventually finding a pair of black sweat pants and a grey hoodie.

"Try this," You said, handing Dean the clothes. "They should fit. You can change in the bathroom; it's the first door on the right."

While Dean went to change, you did the same. You exited your bedroom dressed in a pair of black leggings and a UK sweatshirt.

You noticed that Dean still wasn't out yet, so you went to start some food. You contemplated on what you should cook before ultimately deciding that mac and cheese would do. It was a comfort food, after all.

It would take a bit longer than usual, since you were making it from scratch, but Dean had said earlier that he had nowhere to be.

"Smells good in here." Dean noted when he walked out of the bathroom. Seeing him in Michael's clothes made your heart stop for a second, and not in a good way.

Dean and Michael had many similarities, the hair color, height, demeanor, etc. And you didn't want to be reminded of that man.

"Thanks," You said nonchalantly. "It's nothing special, but I thought you'd like it."

"So," Dean started, leaning against the counter. "This is a nice little set up you've got here."

"It's not much, but it's home." You shrugged as you stir the pot of noodles. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Storm sneaking around the corner of the kitchen, hoping for some food or a treat.

"How long have you lived here?" Dean asked.

"About five years." You informed him. "Ever since I turned eighteen I've been living on my own."

"How come?"

"You know the thing parents always say? 'As long as you live in my house, you follow my rules'? Well, I didn't like their rules so I got myself this apartment and I've lived here ever since."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, my old man was like that too. I actually did the same thing as you did. 'Cept I came back 'bout a week later." He laughed. "I was too dependent on my dad and brother. I have never lived alone before then; and to be honest, I hate living by myself. I still do."

"You never got roommates?"

"I had a few. There was Mick and Cas. Of course, I can't forget Benny." He grinned. "But they're all gone now."

"Benny?" You mumbled. "As in Benny Lafitte?"

"Yeah, why? You know him?"

"Do I?" You rolled your eyes. "That idiot's my cousin."

"Really?" Dean said excitedly. "I haven't heard from him in ages, how's he doing?"

"He's loving by the coast, and the last I heard, he met some girl named Andrea and he is head over heels in love."

"That's great." Dean smiled. "I really happy for him."

"Yeah, I expect to get an invitation to his wedding so enough. The way he talks about her, you would think he's known her his entire life."

"That's sweet. Benny seems like the guy that falls hard after one date."

"Oh yeah, he definitely is." You giggle. "He calls me after one date and says, 'Y/N, I think I'm in love. If I sent you a picture of a wedding ring, would you look at it and tell me what you think?'"

"No way!" Dean laughed.

"Yes! I had to talk him down from buying an engagement ring! I told him to wait for a year and a half, and then revisit the subject of marriage. Times almost up and he's still fawning over her. But I'm happy for him, he definitely deserves this."

You sprinkled bread crumbs on top of the Mac and cheese before popping it in the oven for a few minutes.

"You put break crumbs on your mac and cheese?" Dean questioned.

"You don't?"

"Never tried it." He shook his head.

"You caveman." You sighed. "I will just have to train you." Dean gave a harmonious laugh, which, in turn, made you laugh as well.

You grabbed a towel and pulled the mac and cheese out of the oven. You scooped some onto a plate and handed it to Dean. Both of you sat down at your small kitchen table and began to dig in.

"Oh my god." Dean said, his mouth full with food. "That is the best mac and cheese I've ever had."

"See? Told you it would be good."

"I'll never doubt you again." He mumbled as he shoveled more into his face.

You ate in a comfortable silence until there was a knock at your door. "I'll be right back." You told Dean as you opened the door.

"Mr. Pierce." You said nervously. "What can I help you with?" You knew what he wanted. And you sure as hell didn't have it.

"You're behind on rent, Y/N. I need the money, or I'll have no choice but to evict you." You felt your heart drop to your stomach.

"I-I don't have it right now. My hours have been cut and I-"

"I'm sorry, Y/N. You're a good girl, but I need someone who will lay rent on time every month. I really hate to do this, but I want you out in two weeks."

"I-It's okay, Mr. Pierce," You assured him shakily. "I understand." And with that, he was gone. You gave a shaky breath as you leaned on the door.

"Y/N?" Dean called, approaching the living room. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"I will be." You nodded.

"What happened?" Dean questioned gently.

"I just got my eviction notice." You deadpanned. Dean's mouth popped open in shock. "I have to be out in two weeks."

"Crap, sweetheart. I'm sorry. What are you going to do?"

"Couch surf for a while, maybe? I know Jo will let me stay with her for a couple of days, but if her landlord catches me there, he'll throw her out too."

"What about your parents?"

You gave a cold laugh. "No, they'll never let me come home. I would stay with my older brother, but he's overseas right now. So honestly, I don't know what I'm going to do."

Dean stayed silent for a moment before speaking up. "You could come live with me." He suggested.

"Dean, I really appreciate the offer, but I can't impose on you like that."

"It's okay," He assured you. "I have an extra bedroom. And it's not imposing if I'm asking. Besides, like I said before, I hate living on my own."

"Dean, we barely know each other." You tried to reason.

"Hi, my name is Dean Winchester, I'm an Aquarius, I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky women." You let out a loud laugh. "There, now you know more about me."

"Dean-"

"Just think about it. If you can't find anywhere else to live, my door's always open. I have to go, but here's my number," He said, writing down his phone number on a sticky note. "If you need anything, call me." Dean gave you a small smile before he walked out the door.

You flopped on the couch, staring up at ceiling. Storm jumped up on your chest, purring loudly. You gently scratched his back. "What should I do, Storm?" You asked. "Would you want to live wYou flopped on the couch, staring up at ceiling. Storm jumped up on your chest, purring loudly. You gently scratched his back. "What should I do, Storm?" You asked. "Would you want to live with Dean? You seemed to like him." Storm gave a tiny meow, his eyes closing shut. "Real big help there, buddy."ith Dean? You seemed to like him." Storm gave a tiny meow, his eyes closing shut. "Real big help there, buddy."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Tag List:

Cinnamon and Sugar Tags

@vicmc624 @lovememisha @supernatural-jackles @laycblack

Dean Tags:

@akshi8278

And if anyone else wants to be added to any tag list, let me know!

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bjornthorsson20 · 3 years

Text

The Broken Side of a Flaming Soul

As he walked through the school corridors, Harry Potter decided he had enough. His best friend was being completely unreasonable about this, and he couldn't stand to see him lose a chance to finally admit to himself what the whole House could already see.

The Yule Ball was just around the corner, and everyone was already running around like headless chickens trying to find a date. After being shot down by Cho Chang, Harry had recovered fast and, after making sure Ron was ok with it, he was going with Ginny. On the other hand, Ron had resigned himself to not going, not even bothering to try and find another date after his embarrassing invitation to Fleur Delacour that'd been made in a sudden stupor caused by her Veela powers.

When asked, Ron would just shrug and answer, "there isn't anyone that catches my eye, mate", forcing a chuckle in the hopes he'd drop the subject. Harry did, but he could see straight through that lie. He knew the real reason Ron wouldn't ask anyone else; he already had someone in mind.

And that someone happened to be their best friend, Hermione Granger.

Everyone that knew these two, or had witnessed their interactions all these years could already tell they were made for each other. The only problem was that they couldn't see it, apparently.

Harry first noticed in 3rd year, after that Hogsmeade trip they spent without him. They came back giggling at each other, and blushing whenever they happened to catch the other glancing in their direction. Their hands almost touched, their fingers twitching a little. From that day on, they'd keep this behaviour when they were in the common room doing homework, even around Harry. Without noticing, Ron would sit a bit closer than usual to Hermione and their elbows would end up bumping at some point, which would make their cheeks turn pink. They would continue to stare holes through their parchment before Ron would distance himself a bit, repeating the cycle until it was time to call it a night. Hermione would then rush upstairs faster than a Snitch after muttering a good night to Ron (and only Ron).

Then the Crookshanks and Scabbers fight happened, and Harry was seriously worried they would just call it quits on their friendship entirely. Thankfully, that argument was solved rather amiably, and the two resumed their awkward relationship soon after.

So, when the Yule Ball was announced, Harry thought that it would be the chance for them to finally get their feelings out in the open after a glorious romantic night. But alas, Ron was being his pigheaded self, and simply refused to ask Hermione as his date on account of his dress robes being horrible. "Why even bother going?" he'd grumble.

Harry thought that was rubbish, honestly. Why would Hermione care what Ron wore for the Ball? He knew that Hermione wasn't superficial like that, so, surely Ron had to know. There had to be some other reason he wasn't telling him about, and Harry was going to get it out of him today. And make sure Hermione heard it as well.

Harry had to suppress a grin as he thought back to his brilliant plan to get the two together at last. One day he pulled Ginny aside in the common room and asked her for a favor. She listened intently and, as he went on, the grin on her face kept growing and growing. He was glad Ron and Hermione hadn't noticed him slip away, as they were too busy with their awkward "elbow bumping" homework routine to pay him any mind.

Finally, Harry's feet had dragged him to the library entrance as he shook himself from his thoughts and went in, already knowing the table he was looking for. He made a beeline for one near the back, separated by a bookshelf from the farthest one, where he knew a certain bushy-haired witch sat everytime.

Ron was already there waiting for him, with a book opened up as he leaned an elbow on the table and rested his head on his hand. Harry was surprised to see Ron actually reading a book that didn't involve Quidditch, though he was definitely just pretending to read as he waited; Ron didn't read, that was Hermione's thing!

Harry quickly sat down as Ron finally looked up and fixed him with an unreadable expression. Harry grinned, hoping to lighten the conversation a bit before questioning his friend. Ron attempted to fake read again, but Harry wasn't going to let him avoid talking this time, so he pulled away the book.

"C'mon, mate, stop pretending to be interested in this. You're gonna talk to me." Harry took a look at the cover and snorted, "Immediate Transfiguration. Mate, you seriously expect me to believe you were willingly reading up on homework?" Ron snatched back the book and upon noticing his expression, Harry stopped laughing. Ron's face was set in a deep frown, gripping the book hard, and Harry noticed his lower lip tremble slightly before he bit it and stared a hole through the cover.

Suddenly, the air around them seemed very thick and tense, almost cold, as Harry glanced at his friend, stunned by the sudden shift in mood. That was, until Ron spoke in an unusually weak voice for him, which startled Harry.

"Yes, I was reading this book for real. Figured I could finally follow Hermione's advice and try to learn something to make myself worthwhile in class, saving McGonagall the stress and disappointment. But judging by your reaction, I guess I'm too much of a joke at this point to be smart in any way. I should've left it to Hermione. It's her thing." He spat the last two words venomously, further scaring Harry.

What happened? This didn't sound like Ron at all. Harry was seriously expecting Ron to look at him, laugh at his face and tell him he had gotten him good. But Ron kept looking at the book, and his hands had started shaking slightly.

Harry was about to break the uncomfortable silence when Ron spoke first.

"Harry, I know why you called me here, ok? So, let's get right to it so I can go back to our dorm and hide myself in there for the rest of today." His tone sounded detached, as if he had been rehearsing these lines in his head as he sat there waiting.

"Ron, I'm sor-"

"Forget it."

"No, lis-"

"Drop it." Even though Harry had said these same words to Ron when he tried apologizing to him after the First Task, the way Ron said them wasn't the firm, yet friendly, way in which Harry did. This time they were icy, as if Ron wasn't even going to accept his apology.

Deciding to just head on straight to the point, Harry asked, "Why won't you take Hermione to the Ball with you? Don't even try to say it's those dress robes, I know that's rubbish." He tried cracking a smile but his lips just kept a straight line on his face as he waited for Ron's answer. This whole thing just seemed silly now, and Harry desperately wished he could change Ron's mood somehow. This wasn't going as planned at all.

"You want the truth, then?" Ron's voice now sounded completely normal all of a sudden, as if he wasn't dreading the answer at all, something that immediately caused Harry's stomach to turn uneasily, nervous about what Ron would say.

Harry just nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment, and waited with bated breath as Ron sighed and sunk lower in his chair. He was still half expecting Ron to tell him it was the ultimate prank on him; for Fred and George to come out from under the table and join Ron in laughing at his expense.

What he heard instead made his heart sink.

"Ok, I'll give you the truth. The truth is, I'm not going to bother with something I know won't work. I won't allow myself to go to that Ball in those dreadful robes that'll make me look like a clown in front of the whole school, just so I can fool myself into thinking Hermione and I will have a great night that'll end with us declaring our love for each other. Because that won't happen, outside of my wildest dreams. I know Hermione doesn't feel the same way and I can live with that, although I'm not fucking okay with it. But who am I to say if it's okay or not? I can't be the selfish git trying to dictate who she should or shouldn't like."

He paused to look towards the ceiling as if bracing himself for the next part, before taking a deep breath and continuing.

"Hermione deserves to go to the Ball with someone that can give her a great night and a promise of something more, someone like, I don't know, Krum. Rich, famous, talented, and everything a girl wants for her future. I'll be bloody jealous, really, when I see her waltzing in with Krum or any bloke, for that matter, but that's just stupid. Being jealous of someone you aren't even dating is already low, and being jealous of someone who you don't even have a chance with is bloody pathetic. Really, who would take me? Poor, ugly, rude, vulgar, stupid, clumsy…"

Ron looked at Harry for the first time since he started speaking, and let out a mirthless chuckle at Harry's shocked expression. "I'm surprised Hermione and I are even friends; that she puts up with me when she can rattle off a list of all that's wrong with me, which just further proves I'm hopeless and I don't have a single worthwhile thing about me."

Harry was already feeling sick from everything he had heard. He tried to stop Ron from going on, but Ron just raised his hand and fixed him with a stern look, effectively silencing him, and resumed speaking.

"You are Harry Potter, enough said. I know you don't ask for the attention, but you're headed to greatness, mate. Your path has been set. Hermione is… do I even need to say it? She's brilliant, the smartest witch of her age and all that, and she's gonna rule the world one day. Even if I don't agree with how she goes about things sometimes, that whole S.P.E.W. thing shows she wants to bring a positive change to the world and she'll do that someday. Heck, even Ginny will do great one day, I just know it. Don't tell her I said that, though."

"Then there's me, honestly, can you point out a single thing you can say I'm good at? And, I don't want to hear you say things like "you're brave, you're funny, you're kind". No, I want actual talent for something." Ron stopped talking then to look quizzically at Harry, but by the time he realized he was supposed to answer, it was too late and Ron blurted out, "See? Nothing. None of the subjects here, nothing in these books, I'm not good at a single damn thing that at least 10 other wizards can't do better. I guess there's chess, but no one has ever taken that as something serious from me. It's just a game, anyway, not a career potential."

"So, I guess what I'm trying to say is, what people have been wondering all this time in the corridors is true. Why am I your friend, Harry? Why do you let me hang around you? Is it because I'm a joke, and it's funny to see me fail? Is it because you pity me, knowing no one else would have me? You can just, let me go, mate, don't let me keep dragging you down and distracting you from schoolwork. Merlin knows I can't even write in a legible enough way, so don't let yourself get dumbed down by me. One day, you're both going to realize I'm just deadweight anyway, so, just let me go. It'll make it easier for me to be alone and not have to constantly live in your shadows."

The silence that accompanied this speech would have been deafening, had Harry's ears not already been thundering with a million things in his mind that were just waiting to burst from his mouth in response to his friend. But Harry couldn't speak, he was quite literally stunned into silence by the slap that was felt by all of his friend's words.

Ron finally heaved a giant sigh before standing up, looking down to avoid Harry's gaze as he quickly muttered, "Put the book back on the shelf for me before you go, please", then promptly rushed out of the library.

Harry didn't move though, he literally couldn't. His whole body felt numb, aside from his heart, which was now clenching painfully in his chest.

Harry wondered what had happened to Ron. But there was nothing new. Ron had simply shown his vulnerable side. A side of him Harry had failed to notice before.

He heard a sob from behind the bookshelf, and a wave of guilt immediately came crashing down.

"What have you done?"

#ron weasley #harry potter #hermione granger #ginny weasley #angst #fanfiction #romione #romione fanfic #ron x hermione #multichapter #bjornthorsson20

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ladykissingfish · 3 years

Text

the Akatsuki's reactions to being hugged

Sasori What is this? What is its purpose? Is this some sort of primitive close-combat battle technique intended to temporarily immobilize one’s enemy? Sasori dislikes even minimal physical contact, so something as invasive as a hug truly sets his hackles on edge. He will stand there with eyes staring blankly at whatever is behind the person, and wait for them to get through whatever strange nonsense that they’re subjecting him to. May smile ruefully to himself as he allows himself to think of his other life, his human life, and how gestures like this were once shyly sought out, rather than studiously avoided. If in a particularly curious mood, will hug back. Not to return affection, but to see with his own eyes how much crushing pressure the average human body can withstand before it gives out. Deidara Is extremely self-conscious and shudders at the very thought of a hug, although the reason isn’t so obvious. Deidara has spent his entire life feeling embarrassment due to his distinctly feminine features. Curves, wide eyes, long hair, a soft body ... he’s been mistaken for a woman more times than he can count. He can disguise what he perceives as a shameful lack of masculinity with draping clothes or robes, but a hug, and person to person contact, will completely dispel that illusion to the one initiating the embrace. His panic at being hugged is so great that he stiffens like a board in the hugger’s arms, his heart pounds and his breath comes fast and it’s on-par with one hell of an anxiety attack. However, once he becomes comfortable with the hugger, and realizes that the gesture is not at all meant to be cruel or a prelude to body-shaming judgment ... he will become addicted. Like much of the Akatsuki, his life has long been absent of any sort of warmth, and physical or emotional comforts, so when he gets hold of something that provides him with such, he will grasp on to it and guard it like a dog with a bone. Tobi As Tobi, he will act childishly giddy and hug back tightly, TOO tightly, making it nearly impossible for the other person to breathe. But underneath the mask, as Obito ... no matter who the person is, he finds it painfully difficult to let go of them. He has been starved for kindness and affection for more years than he’d care to think about, and being hugged triggers a flood of memories in his brain of his childhood, and the warm hugs he foolishly used to shrug off from his grandmother. For a few seconds he genuinely forgets how to put on his Tobi persona, and panics when he realizes that his arms won’t, not can’t but WON’T, detach themselves from the (now very confused) hugger. And then he’s saved in the form of Deidara walking by and shouting at him to “Let (the hugger) go and come on already, hm!”, and Tobi emerges to run after his Senpai, throwing his apologies over his shoulder. Zetsu Nobody in their right mind would get close enough to Zetsu to even dream of something a foolish as a hug. However, there are always those out there who spew the philosophy of “embracing nature”, and will be stupid brave enough to put their arms around the human-like plant. As with much of Zetsu’s choices, his reaction will depend solely on his mood. If he’s feeling kind (or he’s already eaten) he will simply stand still and let the hug happen. If he’s feeling literally anything else, that kind, sweet person will be missing their arms one moment, and their face the next. Nature is an unpredictable, wild element, and the sooner humans learn that, the better off humanity will be, Kakuzu His heart(s) will quite literally burst out of his body, upon being hugged. Kakuzu has finely tuned battle instincts, and his war-centric past had taught him that anybody who is close enough to attempt a hug, is also close enough to attempt an attack; and his body will involuntarily jump into battle mode, in order to protect itself. Even after the hugger explains ((and this is assuming they’re still alive)) that they meant no harm, Kakuzu will forever be wary and mistrustful of that person. After the hug, will visit Sasori and ask him

to run a blood analysis to determine whether the hugger somehow managed to inject him with poison. Itachi His self-control will slip just a fraction, and he’ll let out a soft, barely-audible gasp at the unexpected physical contact. How long has it been since he’s been hugged? Not since before his mother — well. He will stand in the hugger’s arms for an indeterminate amount of time, allowing them to keep their arms around him but making no moves to reciprocate the gesture. Something will change in both his aura and his demeanor, and the hugger will let out a gasp of their own, startled: up until that moment, the hugger will have only seen Itachi as a hardened criminal, one of the most dangerous of the Akatsuki, wielder of one of the most powerful visual jutsus of this world. But hugging him, feeling how soft and warm he is, how the tension slips out of his body ... he changes. He simply becomes a lost soul, a man who traded his youth and his freedom for this miserable life of death and loneliness. Somebody who, perhaps more than anybody else, NEEDS a hug every single day. Absurdly, a question like “Are you eating well?” might rise to the top of the hugger’s mind, because in these few bare seconds, Itachi Uchiha is little more than an orphan in dire need of a parents’ care. And then the killer of his clan comes to his senses, and firmly (yet gently) removes himself from the hugger’s grasp, straightens out his cloak, and continues on to whatever life chooses to throw at him next. Konan Hugging Konan is a difficult thing to attempt. Like Kakuzu, she has lived a life under the ever-present shadow of war and battle, and will likely see a hug as an attempt at an attack. Hugger will close in on a handful of paper rather than a human woman. However, if she had known the hugger long enough to trust them, she will bestow the softest, most gentle embrace imaginable. It’s the hug of a child, a small girl who is crying for her mother and father. Also the hugger will be completely floored by how fantastic the blue-haired beauty smells, and will attempt ((risk)) more hugs just to catch a whiff. Pein (Nagato) Hm. This is ... different. Nobody can hug Nagato, of course, but some may attempt to put their arms around Pein, which Nagato is vaguely able to feel himself. Had he ever been hugged in his life? He’s honestly not sure. The embrace is warm, very warm, and not altogether unpleasant ... but at the same time, it feels rather pointless. The world is riddled with anger, and hatred, and pain; and gestures such as this one are merely a cover for the truth that lies beneath. Kisame Kisame is neither for or against hugging, or being hugged. He sees no real purpose for it, but doesn’t believe it causes any real harm, either. However, if given a choice, he would prefer to be on the receiving end, as he fears his animalistic strength would unintentionally cause bodily harm to the other person. However, there’s one person he will hug quite frequently, and take care to be as gentle as possible: his Akatsuki partner Itachi. He has known this young man since he was a teenager, and feels a great measure of protective affection for the slim brunette. Itachi is the first person who ever looked at Kisame not as a monster but as a person, and is the only friend the half-shark has had in his life. Itachi shows no reaction to these random bouts of touching — but he doesn’t push Kisame away. Hidan Perhaps the most shocking revelation in a person whose entire life is shocking: Hidan LOVES hugs. Whether giving or receiving, he puts his all into every embrace, to the point where the other person will begin to feel as though they’re in a competition, the longer the contact goes on. But the reason is not as sweet or altruistic as one would hope; Hidan hugging another person is Hidan embracing Death. This is the part of his ritual that’s a well-kept secret; hugging one’s victim before the torment and slaughter that follows is his ultimate expression of love. A warped love, but a love all the same.

#the akatsuki #nagato #konan #sasori #deidara #hidan #kakuzu #zetsu #tobi #obito uchiha #itachi uchiha #kisame #hugs hugs hugs

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