#Haniwren

[cappuccinoandglitter]

Cheers every time a fantasy show doesn't play the homophobia card.

Maghra: I hate Trivantians but I draw the line at homophobia

LOL

[not-so-average-fangirl]

how it started:

how it’s going:

[nyx-oskurita]

See Apple+ series gave us Wren as a character for season 2 at the cost of Kofun’s character. Also what the fuck was up with both of those sex scenes in ep 2x06? I got literally 2 seconds of HaniWren kissing while holding back my vomit from the fuckery that was Kofun and nasty bitch for like straight up 8mins 🤢🤮🤮. Straights really rather watch incest scenes as opposed to lgbtq+ sex scenes.

[thecirclesquare]

Haniwren Drabble

Read on ao3.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

Funny, after holding blades to each other’s throats, the only act of violence I should apologize for is a kiss. The fear I feel wells up from someplace deeper than anger or vengeance or rage. Deeper and bluer. In your eyes I see the same shade. Loneliness mixed with hope.

“No,” you say. I hesitate only long enough for you to repeat the word and close the distance between us. “No.”

Soon your lips are on mine and the happiness I feel spreads over me like warmed water. We kiss and kiss, like we invented it. But of course, we didn’t. Still, in that room that had been untouched for so long, we became the touch. Strange, that in this moment, when I’m finally able to look at you without hiding my glances, my instinct is to close my eyes and feel.

I run my hands over your shoulder plating and into your hair. I get impatient. I don’t like this armor between us. You are more shy, so gentle and light are your hands on my face, my neck, my waist. But your mouth is just as hungry as mine, and when I pull away, you follow, leaning forward.

“What?” You say, breathless.

I tug at your chest plate. “Can you take this off?”

You hesitate for only a moment, as if resigning to some decision that you already knew would come. “Yes. Of course.”

You start to fiddle with the lacing on one side, but I can see your hands are trembling.

“Here,” I say, “let me help.”

I begin to pull the lacing free. You watch silently, but I feel the weight of your stare all over me. I'm still not used to being watched by you. I can't help but blush. "What?"

“You’re pretty good at that,” you say. “Have you undressed many soldiers before?”

The tone of your voice says you’re joking but the look in your eyes says something else entirely. I'm not sure if I should be flattered or annoyed by your insinuation.

“No,” I say. “Not in the way you mean.”

“In what way then?”

“I’ve helped my brother and my father with armor before. No one else. Now, raise your arms.”

You do as I say and I slip the chest plate over your head. Your linen shirt rises with the armor, revealing your soft, pale belly, before falling back down. You watch me watch you, then our eyes lock. There is an expression on your face that reads like desire, like the kind I saw on Bow Lion's face once at the festival dance. I've seen it on others as well, but I've never seen it like this, so pointed and alert, aimed right at me. I'm struck through. I can barely breathe.

“You’re so beautiful,” you say, your voice shaky.

“So are you.”

[wiijpeiifh]

Wren gives out lexa vibes

[ragnarssons]

reeiurgeriugreeg DID I REALLY GET AN HANIWREN KISS???

[ragnarssons]

HANIWA AND WREN AS A SHIP, WHEN???

[thecirclesquare]

Haniwren Drabbles - Part 2

Read on AO3.

You struggle with the rest of your armor, pulling the cuffs from your arms.

Rather than standby idly, I allow myself to fall back onto the bed. I can’t help the giggle that escapes my throat as I land. I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my mouth.

You look down at me, returning smile for smile.

“What’s so funny?” You say.

“It’s nothing.”

“Tell me.”

I prop myself up on my elbows to get a better look at you. “It’s just…what are the odds? It’s a statistical improbability.”

You fidget with the last cuff on your arm. “What do you mean?”

“Well, first that we’d find each other at all. And second, that we’d…” I shrug, scared to put words to my feelings.

You toss the last cuff onto the edge of the bed and take a step closer. You look down at me, now only in your linen shirt and trousers, your long brain draped prettily over your shoulder.

“That we’d…” You also trail off momentarily, then find your courage and take a breath. You choose your next words carefully. “That we’d understand each other.”

“Do we?” I say, my voice sounding more timid than I’d expected. “Understand each other?”

You reach a hand out and snap your fingers, a gesture that is more a force of habit than a necessity now. we both notice at the same moment. And out of the same force of habit, I take your hand. You pull me upright to sit on the edge of the bed, and kneel before me, holding only my fingertips gently in yours.

“You told me once before that you already knew me better than anyone else ever has, and that’s true, but I wanted you to know more. I wanted to show you this place, all the things I love, beautiful things that no one else could ever hope to understand. Until now. Until you.”

“If this is where you keep beautiful things that you love, then I’m flattered to be here among them.”

“And now you are the most beautiful.” You touch my cheek.

“That’s the other improbability,” I say, turning my face further into the palm of your hand. “That you think I’m beautiful, that you look at me the way you do, that it makes me feel the way it does. Even before I knew what was happening between us, I knew this…I loved when you looked at me and I hated when you looked away, even when getting your attention was dangerous. Sometimes it still feels dangerous.”

You lean forward and press your forehead against mine, another force of habit, this sign of affection. “I will never hurt you.”

“I know.”

“I hate it when you look away, too.” You cup my face in your hands. “I hate it.”

“I know.” I pull you into a kiss. And another. “I know.”

And I do know. Maybe this is the mutual understanding you were trying to describe. Once we had laid eyes on each other our fates were sealed. A void had opened up in us both that could only want for, and be satisfied by one thing, that silent moment of connection that is equal parts satiating and devouring. I know that I could look upon you now and if I were to look away, it is only a matter of time before I would feel the need to see you again.

And that’s why I open my eyes between kisses, if only for a moment. That's why you do the same. That’s why, when we lock eyes, we break out into giggles  you push me back onto the bed. That’s why we keep our eyes open through all of it, even as the room goes dark around us.

[thecirclesquare]

Haniwren Drabbles - Part 3

The world thinks this fifth sense is mystical, and maybe it is. But what do they mean when they say we can see? What can they possibly imagine of vision? What can they know of darkness and light? Of color? What can they know?

“Your eyes are so blue,” I whisper as we lay face to face in this strangers bed.

“What?” You smile lazily.

“Your eyes are as blue and as clear as a winter sky.”

“What does blue mean? Is that a Payan word?”

“You know, blue. The color of your eyes. The color of the sky. The color of the forever stone.”

“Color?” Even in the darkening room I see you furrow your brows.

“Yes, everything has a color. Your eyes are blue. Your hair is red. Your lips are pink.”

“Wait, slow down.” You touch your own disheveled hair and bring a strand of it close to your face. You squint in the dimming light. “My hair is red?”

“Yes, like wine.”

“And my eyes are…blue?”

“So blue. I didn’t know it was possible. I've never seen eyes like yours before.”

“And your eyes? What color are they?”

“My eyes are brown, I think.”

“Your eyes are like soft spring earth. No, like the damp forest floor after the first snow of the year.”

I’m flattered. I feel myself blush. “Wow. That sounds so much prettier than brown.”

“Brown.” You repeat the word carefully.

“Have you really never learned about colors before?”

“No, never. Who would have taught me?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok. Tell me more.”

“Well, the basics are the colors of the rainbow.”

“What’s a rainbow?”

“You know, the big bow you see in the sky sometimes after the rain."

"Yes! I know it!" You smile as you listen. "What a wonderful name for it."

"A rainbow has all the main colors: red like your hair, orange like the fruit, yellow like the godflame, green like the leaves, blue like the sky, purple like a grape.”

“I know some of these words. Blue means sad. Green means envy.”

I can’t help but smile. “You’re right. I’d never thought of it before, but some of the words must have survived, even if their origins have been lost.”

“How did you learn these words?”

“From books.”

“From books?”

“Yes, we used to have so many words for things that people have long forgotten.”

“Like what kinds of things?”

“Well, the godflame, for instance, it used to be called the sun. It’s a burning ball of fire millions of miles away. And even though it appears to be traveling across the sky each day, in fact, it is us on the ground who are moving. The earth spins, one full rotation every day, and that’s what makes day and night. That’s what makes light and dark.”

“And what about the other one?”

“The other one?”

“The other sun, the one that changes shape and gives no warmth. There.” You roll away from me to point out the window. I see the glowing moon though the translucent curtain.

“Ah! The moon!”

“The moon,” you say, still looking out into the night. You smile softly to yourself.

“What are you thinking?”

You turn back to me. “It’s silly but all these years I thought the moon was mine alone. It has brought me great comfort in the night when all things are dark. But I never knew it’s name. I’m glad to know it now.” You stroke my cheek and smile. “Tell me more.”

“About the moon?”

“About any of it.”

“Well, the moon is different from the sun. It’s cold because it’s not a flame like the sun. It’s actually closer to a large rock up there in the sky. It only appears to be glowing because it’s reflecting the light of the sun.”

“Reflecting?”

“You know. When someone stands close to a flame and the light brightens their face, but when they turn away their face goes dark. It’s the same with the moon.”

You touch my mouth. “I feel like that now.”

“Like what?”

“Like I am the moon, and you are the sun.”

“What do you mean?”

“You burn so bright that I can't help but glow with you.”

I kiss you.

You roll me onto my back and look down at me. Your thigh is pressed between my legs. I can’t stop my hips. They move on their own against you. You raise my shirt to reveal my belly. Your hand is cold on my skin. My hips move. Your hips move. My shirt is up. Up. Your hand is on my breast. My heart pounds. I burn beneath you as I watch. You lean forward. You kiss my chest, my breast, my neck.

My heart pounds. My hips move. My hands are in your hair. Your kisses move down my body. You pause, look up. Your face is half in moonlight, half in shadow. Your eyes are dark with desire.

I recognize it because I feel it too. I don’t know who is the sun and who is the moon. I don’t know who is reflecting who.

But I know that when I move, you move. When I moan, you moan. When I toss my clothes away, you do too. And when I reach down between your legs, you guide me, whispering, “Here. Here.”

We smile together as you shudder above me, and in the moonlight you glow, glow, glow.

I roll you onto your back. I kiss you. I kiss you. Hand between your legs. Soft and wet. I kiss you. You wrap your leg around my waist. I kiss you. You cry out. You pull me closer. You bury your face in my shoulder. You tremble. You writhe. You kiss my ear and then relax back into the pillow.

My heart pounds. My crotch throbs. I hear you, breathless but smiling.

I marvel at how I can already know the sound of your smile. I prop myself up on my elbow so I can see you. You arch your back. The moonlight falls across your bare chest, casting your skin in icy blue light. Your hair is now a deep violet, your nipples the color of wine. You have been transformed, made even more beautiful. Your chest heaves as you smile and let out a deep moan. The sight fills me with fire. I close my eyes to it.

What do the unsighted know of this vision? What can they possibly know?

[rhfffas]

Maghra: I hate Trivantians but I draw the line at homophobia

LOL