#its simple i think about the fact that i could have been born a boy and i just wasnt for qhatever fucked up reason

[basementxdweller]

insert witty and charming and incredibly funny joke here that makes you find me irresistibly attractive

[tomriddleslove]

Omg I have a THEODORE NOTT request for you

Super duper angst hurt comfort

Theo’s dad basically hurts the reader and sends her back to Theo as a warning to stay away from such mudbloods and its just heart wrenching guilt and hurt and tending to her wounds through treat

Song: Half a Man by dean lewis perhaps?

I already have.

✩Theodore Nott x Reader (request)

Summary: The one where Theo has the one person he loves the most hurt by his worst nightmare. Alternatively: He thinks he’d rather die than see you in pain.

A/N: I DID MANAGE TO DO IT BY TODAY!!! I’ll be responding to the next few requests soon. You said comfort but didn’t specify a happy ending 😺

Warnings: Mentions of Abuse, blood.

Theodore Nott never expected to fall in love.

It seemed rather bleak for him, to be honest. He didn’t have the time to think about love when he was too busy wrapped up in navigating the life he had ahead of him.

One couldn't blame him though. With his family as the only example of what love could be, he certainly didn't have a good impression.

Theodore couldn’t recall a single time when he had seen his father treat his mother with kindness or respect.

Let alone love? A truly laughable notion.

Theodore's father had not shown a single ounce of love to his wife, or Theodore. Even on that godforsaken day when Theodore had witnessed his mother die, his father had simply delivered a swift strike to his face and told him to ‘man up.’

So to put it simply, The absence of love in his family cast a shadow over his perception of relationships, making it difficult for him to fathom the idea of falling in love himself.

Then you came.

You came, and god, Theodore doesn't remember how he lived without you. It wasn’t a whirlwind love, a sort of fell fast and hard, rather you entered his life like a slow and steady rain, seeping through the foundations of Theodore's life till you had consumed them completely, crumbling them down against his own will.

It rained, and you became the quiet storm, soft yet unyielding.

Love came like the easiest thing when he met you. It wasn't foreign, or a distant concept; instead, it felt like the most natural and effortless occurrence in Theodore's life. Love with you was as simple and uncomplicated as breathing, a seamless rhythm that he hadn't known was missing until you came along.

You were more than shocked when Theodore admitted he didn’t think he could ever fall in love. The boy, who loved you as though he was born to (he argues he was), who would so tenderly kiss your forehead and hold your hand, not capable of love? The one who would leave his coat for you during the winter months and bring a spare scarf because, he knew you were stubborn, and he was worried you'd get sick, not deserving of love?

You kissed him deeply and made him swear he'd never think of that ever again.

You reminisced on Theodore like some sort of lovesick fool separated by war from their lover, though it was merely only the summer holidays. Whilst Theodore would want nothing more than to come with you, his father demanded his presence back at home. You knew little about Theodore's mother, and even less about his father. Anything leading up to a conversation about them would simply result in Theodore immediately redirecting the conversation, becoming a tad more guarded for the next day or so.

It’s not that he didn’t trust you, because he wholeheartedly did. He would place his beating heart in your hands even if you had a knife in the other, for he trusted you that much.

No, in fact, it was the very opposite. Theodore knew you, and he refused to let you ever get involved in that part of his life. He swore he would never let his father even lay his eyes on you.

He would have loved for his mother to have met you. He doesn't remember her that well, but he's sure, some sort of instinctive feeling within him, that she would have loved you.

You had been back in Hogsmeade a mere 2 days before school had started, to stockpile on some supplies for school.

Students were permitted to start returning to Hogwarts three days before school began, and you would always go back early, valuing having the near-empty castle. It meant you could settle back into a school routine comfortably, and have some time alone before school resumes.

It also gave you time to do stuff for Theodore. You didn't know much about what went on at his house, but assuming from the way he’d come back absolutely exhausted with bags under his eyes, you figured it wasn't good.

It seemed to be the same routine almost every time you'd come back - he comes over to your dorm (luckily for you, all your dormmates essentially lived in their boyfriend's dorms, as they were all friends with one another, so you had it all to yourself 99% of the time). He’d kiss you hello and wordlessly take off his shoes and jacket. You’d lie on your bed and he’d come lie on top of you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He would rest his head on your chest, the sound of your heartbeat soothing him, as he listened to you talk about your holidays till he fell asleep, feeling safe for the first time, unburdened by his worries.

He’d sleep, and you'd trace the furrow of his brow. You ached for the ability to just, alivieate him of everything he carried so close to him. But you knew that healing was a long journey, and you'd be there for him on the way.

You wander around a little bookstore, finding a book for you and Theodore to read. You paid for the copy, turning to leave the shop when you bump into a man.

You quickly offered a polite apology, even though his cold gaze and disdainful demeanour sent a chill down your spine.

Those eyes. They were oh so familiar to the very striking eyes of the boy you so loved. Come to think of it, the hair was the same too. Was this…..

"Watch where you're going, girl," he spat, his voice dripping with disdain

You clenched your jaw, swallowing the anger that threatened to surface. Keeping your composure, you replied evenly, "I apologize if I inconvenienced you, sir."

His eyes then flickered to the books in your hands, a sceptical look crossing his face. "You are a student at Hogwarts? What year?" he sneered.

You took a deep breath before responding, "Final year, sir."

Seeing an opportunity to shift the dynamics, you gestured towards Theodore's family resemblance. "You must be Theodore's father. The resemblance is striking."

His eyes narrowed, and he asked with an air of suspicion, "How do you know Theodore?"

You hesitated for a moment but decided to be honest. "We're dating."

Theodore's father raised an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and derision on his face. "Dating, are you?" he scoffed. "Tell me, girl, who are your parents? Perhaps I've heard of them."

A small smile tugs at your lips as you shake your head, responding. "I doubt you would know them. They're Muggles."

His expression darkened, and a look of pure contempt appeared on his face. "Muggles? Muggles?" He snarls, taking a step closer to you.

Theodore's father's face contorted with disgust, and his voice dripped with venom as he continued, "You, a pathetic Muggle, dare to pollute my son's bloodline? You're nothing but filth, tarnishing the Nott family name with your presence."

You felt a surge of anger and fear. This is what Theodore was trying to keep from you. That his family were prejudiced against your very existence.

Without warning, he roughly grabbed your arm, his grip tightening painfully. The pain shot through you, and you winced.

"Listen closely, Mudblood," he hissed, tightening his hold. "You're nothing more than a passing fancy for my son. If you have any sense, you'll sever ties with him before you bring further shame upon yourself."

Without a second to let you answer, he releases his grip on you, spinning on his heel as he storms out of the store. It takes you a second to recuperate and process what the fuck had just gone on before you turn and quickly dash out of the store, trying to catch a glimpse of his father. Sure enough, you spot him disappearing down a narrow alley.

Before you can stop to think, you chase after him, shouting as you do.

“Hey!” You snap, closing in on the distance.

Theodore was correct in one thing. He knew you well. And he knew that if you ever knew of his father, you’d get involved.

His father’s long black cloak billowed behind him, disappearing down a narrow alleyway that seemed to swallow his wrath. Fueled by a mixture of hurt and anger, you hurried after him, determined to address the injustice he had just unleashed.

Desperation laced your anger-fuelled shouts as you closed the distance. His brisk pace showed no signs of slowing, and as you reached out to grab his arm, the narrowness of the alley made it easy for him to turn around swiftly.

"How dare you touch me, you wretched Mudblood!" he hissed, his eyes ablaze with hatred.

Before you could react, he unleashed a hex.

It hit you with an intensity that sent a shockwave of pain radiating through your body. The force of the curse flung you backwards, and you collided with the cold stone wall, gasping for breath. A searing pain radiates throughout your body, and you cough, looking down. It was akin to some sort of slash, as though he had hit you with an invisible thing, a clean cut on your thigh, and arm. You see a drop of blood drip down onto your skirt and, dazed, bring your hand up to your face. You feel something wet, and when you pull your hand back it has a crimson red glistening on your fingertips, and-

oh.

There was a cut on your face too.

As you steadied yourself, you felt the searing pain intensify, a burning sensation spreading from the point of impact on your arm. Theodore's father approached with a malevolent satisfaction etched across his face. He looms over you, glaring down at you.

"You'd do well to heed my warning, Mudblood," he sneers, his voice low and menacing. "Stay away from my son, or next time, the consequences will be even more severe."

He cast a disdainful glance at your injured form before straightening up, his dark cloak billowing as he walked away without a second thought.

You took a deep breath, shuddering as you braced your palms against the cobblestone floor of the alleyway. You push yourself up, wincing as you try to ignore the throbbing pain in your body as you gingerly get up.

You gather your scattered belongings and look around, seeing nothing but the near-empty village. Summoning every ounce of strength, you began to limp back towards the castle, the weight of humiliation pressing down on your shoulders.

You felt exposed. The idea that Theodore had hidden such a massive thing from you, made you feel all the more humiliated.

You keep your head down and soon enough appear at Hogwarts. It doesn't give you the happiness it usually does, rather you just want to go back to your room and change, and sleep.

It was at this moment that you were rather glad that you decided to come back early, for you can only imagine the looks you'd get if it was packed full of students.

Exhausted, and simply just over it, you make your way up to the dorm. There are only two other students you spotted on the way, but they were far too busy snogging the daylights out of one another to notice you.

It reminded you of…

Theodore.

How would you face Theodore? Did you want to face Theodore?

No, you resolved, you didn’t. You couldn't comprehend keeping such a key detail from someone, let alone the person you loved. Why he did that to you, you’d never understand.

You unlock your dorm room door, dropping your bag at the door, You look up and to your utter confusion, see Theodore sitting on your bed. He looks up at you, the smile on his face very quickly replaced with a deep frown.

He gets up, and-

oh.

Never mind.

You did want to be near him.

You really wanted to be near him.

It was stupid really. You didn’t feel like crying at all, but the second you saw Theodore, that feeling very quickly resolved into the urge to bury your face into your chest, and not stop.

So you did.

Theodore's arms envelop you, and he holds you impossibly tight. He swears every sob that comes from you chips away at his being and he soothes you, rubbing your back as he holds you.

Theodore can count the number of times he's felt pure anger on one hand. Sheer rage. The type that consumes you from the inside out. Once when he was 8, and his mother passed away. He remembers hearing his father disregard the whole thing with such cruel indifference he felt as though a fire was blazing him from the inside out. As with many young wizards his age, he did not know how to control this magic.

He ended up setting fire to the library that day.

The second time, in 1st year, when Alicia Thornsby had made a cruel remark about Theodore’s home life.

“Well, my mother said that Theodore must have a horrible holiday. What, with his father being-” She starts, but she didn’t get to finish.

The teachers couldn’t comprehend under what vindication a child learnt a stinging hex strong enough to permanently mar the skin of the girl, but it was the first and last time anyone dared utter a word against Theodore.

That was the 2nd, and last time Theodore had felt unbridled rage, in his 18 years of life.

That was, until today.

Because, the sight of you, with blood on your cheek, sobbing into his chest, was enough to reignite that dormant flame of anger within Theodore.

“Who?” He manages to utter, voice strained.

You remain quiet, the silence punctuated by the occasional sniffle as you remain hidden in his chest.

He pulls back, lifting your chin. Your eyes are fixated on where the once-dried blood had washed onto his shirt, and he is fixated on you.

“Who?” He emphasises again, his eyes flickering down to the cut on your face. He runs his finger gently along the cut, and when he watches you wince he pauses, a flicker of pain crossing his face. The sight of you wincing, even at his gentle touch, shatters something within Theodore.

You hesitate before you speak, but ultimately, the words slip out of your mouth.

“Your father.”

The weight of those two words, "Your father," hung in the air, and for a moment, Theodore felt as if the very ground beneath him had crumbled.

His eyes widen momentarily, and he can't speak.

No, because there's a horrible feeling of fear, guilt, regret, perhaps a combination of all three, and it's lodged in his throat. It’s almost suffocating him, he can barely breathe, and it's constricting his airways.

The image of you, the person he held dearest, broken and bloodied, collided with the nightmare he had feared for years. He couldn't comprehend the cruelty his own flesh and blood had inflicted upon you, someone he cherished beyond measure. He speaks, and his voice is so heartbreakingly soft, a mere whisper weighed down by the burden of the truth that unfolded before him.

“I'm so, so sorry.” He utters, as though he prompted the hand that came down to hit you.

He believed he did. Because it was only by association, that you had been hurt by his father. That was why you were hurt, right?

His fault. All his fault. All his fault.

He has to take a deep breath and force himself to calm down and think.

Think.

His first priority was you. Always you. He leads you down to your bed and forces you to take a seat on the edge. You watch him as he disappears into the bathroom, reemerging with a damp washcloth in his hand. He kneels down in front of you, hesitating as he slowly lifts the hem of your skirt upwards slightly. He catches a glimpse of the gash on your thigh and that horrible feeling remerges again.

He gently wipes the cloth over the cut, leaning down to press a kiss on your skin. He mutters a few words, and with a small sharp pinch, the skin on your thigh begins to stitch up slightly. Not enough to fully heal, but to ensure it would in the future.

You don’t question how he knows exactly how to heal these wounds.

You know.

He does the same for your arm. Every second he stares at the cut, he feels his resolve shatter further and further, till he can tell whether he wants to cry or ensure the murder of his father with his own hands.

His hands come up to your face, and he lets out a shaky breath. He is ashamed to even look you in the face,

His own reflection of guilt and regret is etched into his features. He keeps his eyes focused on the task at hand, tending to the wounds inflicted upon you by the person who Theodore swore would never even set his gaze on you.

The room is filled with an anguished silence as Theodore continues his ministrations.

As he tends to your injuries, Theodore's mind is a battleground of self-recrimination. The echoes of your sobbing, the memory of your blood on his shirt, haunt him like a relentless ghost. "I'm so, so sorry," he whispers again, the words heavy with remorse as if he could somehow atone for the sins of his family.

With each stitch on your wounds, he feels the seams of his composure unravelling.

When he finally lifts his gaze to meet yours, the vulnerability in his eyes is palpable. The shame he feels is evident.

You muster a weak smile, a hand coming up to cup his face. Your thumb brushes against his cheek lovingly as you speak, your voice calm.

“It's not your fault,”

He wants to cry.

It is. It is his fault.

Theodore pulls you into an embrace, holding you tightly against his chest. The warmth of his embrace is both comforting and suffocating, a paradox of love and guilt; a conflict that threatens to tear him apart.

As Theodore lies down with you, the weight of his guilt still hangs in the air. He holds you as if trying to shield you from the world. He utters words of apology, repeating the words like a mantra.

“I love you.”

But amidst the soothing cadence of his voice, there's an undercurrent of resolution. The conflict within Theodore reaches its zenith, and a painful decision emerges. He knows he can't risk his father ever hurting you again. The love he feels for you clashes with the harsh reality of his future.

Theodore's grip tightens for a moment as if trying to hold onto the fleeting moments of solace. Yet, with a heavy heart, the decision he has to make is almost clear.

“It isn't your fault. Don't apologise.” You whisper, curled into his arms.

“It is. It's all my fault. I got you involved in this,” He utters, as though the admission is poison on his tongue.

“I’m not a good person. I have a horrible family, and he’ll want me to do horrible things, and I’ll have to do them.” He admits, voice breaking.

“No, you don’t. I’m here. I love you, Theodore. I won’t ever leave, and I swear you won’t deal with that alone.” You repeat, voice laced with conviction.

“I'm beyond help. Don’t give your heart to me.” He croaks.

You lift your head up from where it was resting, eyes gazing directly into his. You remain silent for a beat, then two, before you speak.

“I already have.” You respond.

Theodore should feel relief at those words, but he doesn't. Rather, he feels sick. Because he can’t, he won't risk you getting hurt again. He kisses you and pulls you back in, laying next to one another as he wraps his arms around you and holds you tightly, if only for one last night.

Because there was only one thing Theodore could do to make sure his father would never hurt you again.

He had to leave you.

[ddarker-dreams]

Be Still My Bleeding Heart.

Yan Zhongli x God Reader.

[The First Contract index]

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance o'clock. Word count: 2k.

“I’ve heard you’ve been frequenting the Stone Gate.”

Zhongli’s way of speaking is best compared to a geode. Seemingly insignificant upon initial viewing, but once cracked open, you’ll find yourself enthralled by the contents within. There’s so much to dissect and digest. You’ve become fluent in his language throughout the centuries. It wasn’t always a necessary skill. He matured with each passing millennia, his mannerisms aging like a fine wine, though they became no easier to swallow.

Gone were the days of him using brute force to tackle his way through every challenge waiting before him. He’s patient with enough cunning to match.

You almost miss how simple it once was to get a read on your husband. It requires a great deal more effort now, a resource you’d prefer to expend anywhere else than on him.

“I have,” you don’t see the point in lying. “Do you take issue with the fact?”

“That remains to be seen.”

You’d sigh, but even that feels like you’d be giving him too much. You keep your lips pursed to rectify this. He could be so obstinate about the most trivial details. That element of himself has remained consistent since time immemorial. All you wanted was to take a pleasant stroll through Yuehai Pavilion before returning to your usual activities, yet it seems that’s asking for too much.

Zhongli was waiting when you ascended the steps, his hands folded behind his back, warm amber eyes rivaling the sunset in its intensity. They softened for a mere instant, whatever non-issue you were inevitably about to get reprimanded over temporarily slipping his mind. Sickeningly sweet affection poured forth like vaults of honey, suffocating you in thick layers. You weighed the merits of turning around and venturing elsewhere, then remembered this fabled ‘elsewhere’ doesn’t exist.

He might be testing mortal life, but that doesn’t make Liyue any less of his domain than it was when the Yakshas were greater in number and the adepti gathered for banquets at the Guili Assembly. He could follow you anywhere, you can’t control that. You can, however, control how bad of a mood he’ll be in when he finds you.

Presently, Zhongli places an unwelcome hand on your shoulder, the gesture that was meant to comfort you worse than the spears chaining Osial down to an abyssal depth.

“I hope this isn’t a consequence of us living amongst the people of the Harbor.”

In the same way you are attuned to him, Zhongli is an uncontested expert in all things concerning you. His fervor is born from ardor whereas yours stems from a place of self-preservation. There is no side of you he hasn’t seen, no angle he hasn’t committed to memory with the zeal of a religious fanatic. His seemingly infinite reservoir of knowledge frightens you. There are times when you wonder if he knows you better than you know yourself.

This is further evidence of the possibility.

“… What do you mean by that?”

Zhongli raises an eyebrow. “My heart, please, don’t play dense. We both know you’re anything but. Something’s been troubling you ever since we’ve taken up residence here. I knew it wouldn’t be an easy adjustment, but if this is proving too detrimental for your wellbeing, I’ll have to take appropriate measures.”

You place your hands on the railing in front of you, leaning forward ever so slightly. The wind catches in your hair, carrying the familiar scent of the ocean and dinner being cooked by households awaiting the return of their loved ones. The day draws to a close. You hear laughter, the sound of children playing; two boys struggling to keep up with a little girl who goads them on. This lively scene cannot be found atop Mt. Hulao or any other secluded area you’d be held prisoner in if he thinks it best.

“You take on everyone’s burdens,” Zhongli disregards the view in favor of examining your side profile. You know which one he finds more picturesque. “I adore and fear that trait of yours. I knew there’d be no avoiding it, as it’s embedded in your nature, but I didn’t anticipate you getting this attached.”

“You’re exaggerating the severity of things.”

“Am I?” There’s a slight challenge in his voice you can’t bring yourself to match. “I heard you requested Xiao’s assistance in finding a little girl’s lost doll. An expedition that took multiple days of our Conqueror of Demons’ time.”

“Children are Liyue’s future — I’m doing my part to ensure their happiness.”

“Last week, I found you lecturing a gentleman who voiced dislike of Xinyan’s music. It took you an hour for you to notice my presence. Another hour to let him leave.”

“It was a civil discussion, not a lecture. I left room for him to interject if he had anything worthwhile to say. It isn’t my fault he became tongue-tied when his brutish behavior was confronted.”

“You recently asked me to reshape a mountain range so that Qiqi would have easier passage on her herb-collecting journeys.”

“Are you not the one who once promised me you’d ‘shift the sun’s placement in the sky’ if I ever found it unsatisfactory?”

Zhongli coughs into his gloved hand to hide his embarrassment. “I… was young then. My prose reflects that.”

“2,500 hardly qualifies as young, old man.”

“It does for beings like us. Now,” he seems eager to move on from the subject, “The examples I listed are the mildest. You’re spreading yourself thin, concerning yourself with matters beyond your control. I’ve seen what it did to you in the past. As your husband, I must ensure that doesn’t happen again.”

There’s something else at play here, yet you’ll leave that detail to be uncovered later.

“If I’m understanding this correctly, you’re criticizing me for caring about the people who you spent centuries shedding blood — yours and others — over.”

You don’t bother hiding the bitterness on your tongue. He’s worse than a thorn in your side, he’s a knife, jabbed in so deep that pulling it out is no longer an option. You have to live with the blade’s intrusion and adjust accordingly to the pain. It’s obvious to you that he’s been stewing on this for a while, the trips to the Stone Gate must’ve been the final nail in the coffin. You’ll both argue circles around each other until the heart of the issue is addressed.

The specifics of the contract you signed many, many years ago stipulate you may not leave Liyue’s borders unless a particular list of requirements is met. It isn’t like Zhongli is actively looking to punish you — he said so many times himself — which is why he becomes extra stifling when he thinks you’re pushing your limits. Or his limits, to be precise. The God of Contracts takes these matters very seriously.

Eventually finding you can’t take the silence any longer, you come right out and say it. “It’s true that I can get a bit too… involved when it comes to helping mortals. I see the solution right in front of me and wish those involved could see it too. That’s why I was seeking out a fellow god who is better at handling these situations with the appropriate nuance.”

His face gives away nothing when he speaks. The same cannot be said for the low timbre his voice takes on.

“And what god other than myself might my dearest spouse be seeking the audience of?”

“Barbatos,” you reply without hesitation. Something cold runs through the air between you. “He’s lived amongst mortals for so long. I might have some issues with his carefree temperament, but he knows how to guide others in that human form of his. Perhaps ‘guide’ isn’t the right word. He offers just enough for them to reach the solutions themselves. I want to learn from him.”

In a split second, his diamond-shaped pupils thin into slits, reminiscent of his draconic form. It’s gone in the time it takes you to blink. He sighs, his gaze finally breaking off from you. You feel his hand settle on the small of your back in what can only be described as a possessive gesture. Zhongli rarely touched you in public for the sake of social decency. This revelation must’ve been enough for him to discard the propriety he associates himself with in the current era.

You can tell he’s thinking and you let him. While he chews on the truth, your eyelashes flutter shut, blocking out the sensory stimuli you normally adore. Memories come and go like the ocean’s waves brushing up against the shoreline of your beloved Yaoguang Shoal. Had things gone differently, you’re confident you would’ve learned the lessons you’re currently seeking out on your own. The centuries you were forced to spend separated from mortals, incapable of answering their many desperate prayers, built an intimidating wall.

You’d either need to scale it or tear it down in its entirety — you’re not going to let your husband add to its height.

“He’s a whimsical spirit, so our paths never managed to cross,” you look up at the stony countenance of Zhongli, who weighs your every word on an internal scale. Judgment could be in your future dependingly. “I’ll stop making my trips there. You have my word.”

“You can continue to do so as long as I am present,” his earrings catch the dimming sunray’s when he turns his head in your direction. “I’m not the unreasonable man you try to make me out to be, [First]. Let this be proof of that.”

No, he’s probably worse. Hiding his domineering tendencies beneath a thin veneer of amicability. You keep the thought to yourself. You’ve already pushed him far today by admitting what you did. Limits were meant to be teased, not breached. No one knows this like you do.

“I accept the terms of this contract.”

Seemingly content with this, he nods, his hand detaching from you while he does so. The vortex of tension surrounding you dissipates in an instant. You could relax your posture, but you don’t, a frown working its way onto your face. Encountering Venti by chance really would’ve been ideal, even if it was a long shot. Understanding the hearts of others was one thing, granting them the same vision is another.

“You’re doing it again, aren’t you?” Zhongli muses. It’s a tactic he loves utilizing. Giving vague statements or suggestions so you have no choice but to ask for him to elaborate. An intelligent tactic from a conniving god.

You take the bait, uncaring of how his hook will sink into your flesh.

“Hm?”

“Taking on everyone’s burdens,” he clarifies. “Whatever should I do with you?”

You make a face. He really could do anything he wanted to you — the gap in your divine power is that sizable. It’s by his mercy and self-proclaimed “love” alone that he puts up with your near-constant ambivalence. Not wanting to linger on this uncomfortable topic, you turn on your heels, preparing to descend the steps and return to Liyue Harbor’s heart. If you’re fortunate, maybe he’ll get distracted and start a conversation on architecture or preferably anything else.

This turned out to be a stroll you wish you didn’t take.

“Treat me to dinner, preferably. I made a balm for some burns Xiangling recently sustained. I’ll give it to her while we’re in the area.”

It doesn’t take much effort for him to catch up to you with those absurdly long legs of his.

“Ah. Well, it’s a date then.”

Zhongli observes with silent amusement how you scrunch your nose up yet don’t voice your dissent. You flutter around from person to person, inquiring after so and so’s health, or if a sibling safely made it to Inazuma, dutifully recording the knowledge for later use. Your husband knows how you dislike your association with The God of Love title the mortals mistakenly assigned to you many moons ago — still, he can’t help but find it fitting.

How could he not notice that you overflow with love for anyone who isn’t him?

[saminsecret]

How the slashers would react to a male s/o

just a little something to jumpstart this page ❤️

tw for some mentions of homophobia/outdated views

Michael Myers ('78):

He wouldn't care. He's got a lot more on his plate than worrying about whether his partner has a dick or a vagina. The fact that he hasn't killed you yet should be enough for you.

He wouldn't understand your insecurities. Why does it matter so much to you? He thinks you focus on the wrong things, but he won't say that to you. Not because he cares if he hurts your feelings, he just doesn't want to deal with your emotional turmoil at the moment. Although, if someone were to criticize your relationship, he might get irritated enough to kill them. Depends on your reaction and his current mood at the moment. Michael isn't the best at emotional support, sorry.

He'd defend you after a while. Lets not beat around the bush, its the 70s/80s, your gonna experience a lot of homophobia if your openly gay/bi. Michael knows what it's like being tormented by others, he was in a mental institution his entire life. If you end up getting discriminated against, verbally or physically, he'd kill the bully, plain and simple. He doesn't see this as an act of affection though; just something he needed to do. Still, your heart swoons a bit when he protects you. Enjoy it Y/N!

Daniel Robitaille

He'd be...confused. Daniel grew up in the late 1800s, and while being gay wasn't unheard of, it was definitely seen as a sin. He never thought he himself could ever be in love with another man.

He'd need time. He wouldn't know what to do with himself as this was entirely new territory for him. Homophobia was most definitely a value he grew up around, although he himself might not be homophobic. He was the son of a slave, a black man in the 1800s, an artist only loved for what he could make. He understands discrimination more than anyone else, so he defiantly wouldn't use your identity against you. Still, its a change so he'd be cautious to start anything with you.

He loves you no matter what. Ultimately, it only takes him a little while to come to terms with the fact that he doesn't care what you are, he loves you all the same. "We are one of the same, Y/N. Without you, I am nothing. Our pain will be told for generations. Be my victim, Y/N."

Jason Vorhees

Is this okay, mother? Pamela was a christian woman, so its pretty likely she had some outdated views on gay people. Not necessarily homophobic in nature, but she said some questionable things out of ignorance. Jason was raised with her values, so he'd have the same outdated views. He'd have to unlearn a few things for this relationship to really work. That being said...

Jason understands you. This is what really brings you two into an eventual relationship. He was born disfigured, and the world never let him forget it. And you? Well, it was the 80s, so... both of you were treated harshly for things you have no control over. Pamela would be more sympathetic towards you as well, and would eventually approve of this relationship, as you've proven you can give Jason everything he deserves. "Oh Jason, I knew Y/N was a good boy, just like you!'

He'd adore you all the same. Oh, to have someone (other than Pamela) who loves him! He would ultimately not care about your gender, and would make sure to let you know it. He loves you Y/N, don't ever doubt it!

Brahms Heelshire

Realistically... You wouldn't have been considered for the babysitting job as Brahm's parents probably only considered female candidates. That being said, you'd be hired after a slew of failed female nannies; Brahms wanted to try something new!

He'd love watching you. Oh Y/N, you may be a boy, but you're the prettiest boy he's ever seen! Seriously though, he loves to watch you taking care of doll, cooking food, moving around the estate, existing...you're just so different, Y/N! And he'd feel more connected to you because you understand certain problems...especially morning problems if you catch my drift.

He'd fall into stereotypes. Listen listen, Brahms was raised with old values, like 18th century old values, so even though you're both guys, he still expects you to fall into the "woman" role (cooking, cleaning, taking care of him, ect..). Brahms is a man, Y/N! Treat him like a king! Wait, what do you mean you're a man too? I-Its different, okay?! (You're gonna have to sit him down and talk out all those old value views if you want to be able to tolerate him).

[mama-qwerty]

Understanding SCU Knuckles

Okay, one of the big things I keep seeing a lot of people bring up is the fact that movie!Knux talks about being a warrior all the time, and how different he is from other characterizations of Knuckles, specifically the games and comics. He doesn't seem to care about guarding the Master Emerald, and always seems ready to jump into things fist-first.

So I thought I'd do a deep dive into his psyche to see what truly makes him tick.

Buckle up, this'll get long.

Before I start, I wanna just put it out there that I headcanon the SCU is a separate universe from any other Sonic media. I actually take ALL Sonic media as separate universes--Boom is separate from Prime, which is separate from the SCU, which is separate from the games, which is more connected to but still separate from the comics. They're all different, which means the interpretation of the characters will be different too, to varying degrees.

The Knuckles of the SCU isn't like any other version. He wasn't born and raised all alone on Angel Island. He wasn't always the last of his kind. He wasn't essentially raised with the knowledge of what the Master Emerald truly is, and understood his role as its protector and guardian. He wasn't completely removed from what happened to all the other echidna, all those many years ago. He doesn't have the benefit of hindsight, to recognize that the warrior ways of the echidna were what ultimately led to their own demise.

Movie!Knux knew his tribe. He was raised by them. They were still in the middle of a war with the owls, so yes, they would still be warriors. That was what he strived for, too, because he's been raised on the stories of his people, with likely a heavy slant toward the "we did nothing wrong!" angle of what happened all those years ago. (And honestly, we don't have a completely unbiased story on what truly happened back then, so who knows what the actual truth is. But, anyway.)

He lost his tribe to that very same war. All of them. As a very small child. One who was then thrust into a dangerous galaxy, whether willingly or unwillingly, to figure out how to survive and try to complete the quest of his people. That was the only thing driving him, the only thing keeping him going. That quest.

So yes, being a warrior was, and is, a very important aspect of how he sees himself. That was his people's legacy--how they worked to retrieve the ME and regain the honor that had been stolen from them all those generations ago. Seeing this mindset through the eyes of a small child, he would accept that as being the way he should carry himself as well.

Movie!Knuckles has been living in survival mode for most of his life. He felt a tremendous amount of pressure to find the Master Emerald and complete the quest of his lost tribe. He was all that was left, it all fell to him, and failure meant his entire race died for nothing.

Fighting is what kept him alive. He didn't have the luxury of staying out of conflict, like game!Knux. He didn't have the advantage of being on a nearly inaccessible floating island, surrounded by harmless chao and flickies and other critters as he grew up. Movie!Knux was hunted and forced to fight in arenas for the entertainment of others. He fought, or he died. It was that simple.

And, it could be, over time the idea of what an echidna warrior was became warped in his head. He only had his memories of a young boy of about 6-ish to guide him as to what an echidna warrior stood for. Being out in the galaxy and having to fight for survival may have gotten the ideal of "being a warrior and fighting for a cause" confused with "everything requires a fight to solve".

He calls himself a warrior because he wants to keep his people's legacy alive. He wants to make his ancestors--his father--proud of him, by carrying on their tradition and honor.

He lived his life how he thinks they would have wanted, based on his memories as a child who lost everyone he loved.

He fought. He survived. He searched to complete that one quest that had plagued his people for generations. And when he finally, finally got his hands on the Master Emerald, he had this look:

This is not the look of a brave warrior, proud to have finally finished his quest.

This is not the look of a proud warrior, celebrating his victory after so many years.

This is the look of a boy, who'd lost everything he held dear, because of the pursuit of this little rock.

This is the look of a boy who thinks "Is that all? Is this truly what cost his entire tribe, his entire clan, his entire race, their lives? Was this rock truly worth the sacrifice made in its name for all those years?"

Maybe part of him hates the Master Emerald. Hates that the single focus his people had with it is what left him all alone. It was well hidden on Earth, tucked beneath the waves of a secret temple. The very second it was found, someone he trusted used it to cause great destruction and harm.

He had caused great destruction and harm in his own pursuit of it. However noble he believed his own goals were, he had behaved in ways he may be ashamed of now, all because of the belief that the Master Emerald belonged back in echidna hands, by any means necessary.

And now look.

The sacred temple, destroyed. Green Hills, partially destroyed. Sonic and his guardians, very nearly killed.

All because of this rock.

All because of him.

No one would have ever found the ME if he hadn't come looking for it. He nearly brought the same fate as his people unto the heads of who knows how many others.

All for this little rock.

Remember that the legend indicated that the Master Emerald was created from the chaos emeralds. The ME shattered, releasing the chaos emeralds that allowed Sonic to go Super. When Sonic released the chaos emeralds at the end of the fight, he scattered them throughout the world, and severed their connection to the ME in the process.

It's very possible no one really considers the Master Emerald to have any power itself. It was simply the container that held the smaller emeralds with all the power, and once they were released, the ME itself was simply a pile of crystal shards. Knuckles reformed the ME, but at this point, there's no reason to believe it holds any power at all.

When Knuckles fixes the ME, he doesn't say that the emerald itself is a threat to the safety of the universe. He doesn't say they needed to band together to prevent others from using the emerald's power to cause harm. He says they needed to use their power to keep the universe safe. This is a very vague statement, and does not indicate to me that he's looking at this as a "This emerald is a danger, we must keep it out of evil hands at all costs."

At no point in the series did Knuckles make any mention of the Master Emerald as a source of great power. (At least I don't think he did.) He simply said he had sworn his life to protect it. It's possible he looks at it as simply a totem of his people, a reminder of their fall. A sacred relic that is tied so firmly to his people's history, he feels responsible for keeping it safe and well-guarded. His people all died going after this thing, so he will honor their deaths by keeping it near.

So it's not surprising movie!Knuckles isn't all about guarding the ME and never letting it out of his sight. It's a dead rock, one that holds no power at all. An heirloom that carries his tribe's history, and that's all.

The series picks up very shortly after the second movie, so Knuckles is still leaning really hard into his warrior status. It's all he knows, it's what will keep his people alive in his own heart. Just because he's not constantly on the run anymore doesn't mean he can simply stop doing what's essentially ingrained in him at this point.

He's spent his whole life on the move. Training, fighting, questing. He's a work dog who can't adjust to life as an indoor companion pooch. He needs something to do.

He's a warrior, and a warrior doesn't just relax. So he's not gonna just sit around and make his entire life revolve around the Master Emerald.

Yet.

Keep in mind that we haven't seen the entire story of the SCU yet. Just because he's still leaning into the warrior thing now doesn't mean he always will. It doesn't mean he won't have some epiphany or vision or just a change of heart after some time in the Wachowski's care, and realize that being a warrior maaaybe isn't the best path for him at this point. That maybe that part of his life is done, and although he'll still need to fight when necessary, he is free to pursue other interests now. That he doesn't have to live his life according to what his people would want or deem appropriate.

I don't believe he's actually grieved for his loss yet. Not fully. I think a part of him always felt like an open wound because the ME was still out there, still tainting the memory of his people. And now that he has it, and is on a planet that allows him to feel safe, he'll be able to work through those emotions. Work through that grief and maybe discover who he is, apart from his people and their legacy.

The fundamental aspects of what makes Knuckles who he is is still within movie!Knux. In the series he told Wade that he had been betrayed over and over and over again, which indicates that even though he was in a rough and dangerous galaxy, he tried to trust others. He tried to make friends. But each time he did, they betrayed him. But that didn't stop him from trying again.

We saw glimpses of a different Knuckles in the series. One who opened up to others. One who cared about others. One who acted like the boy he was, instead of the hardened warrior he thought of himself as.

Movie!Knuckles needs time to figure out who he is now that his quest is over. Change doesn't happen overnight, and given his backstory, it makes sense for him to still hold onto that warrior title with both fists. He's an echidna, the last echidna, and he doesn't want to turn his back on what he remembers his people to have been.

I'm eager to see how he'll behave in the 3rd movie.

[reunionatdawn]

My Analysis of the Best Paired Endings in 3H (Part 2: Dimitri/Byleth)

Despite the popularity of some of Dimitri's M/M ships, he seemed to be a typical heterosexual man to me. However, his straightness was actually part of what made his character so interesting, ironically. He spent his youth absorbed in masculine activities like hunting, training, and practicing with the sword.

He was willing to TRY and take Sylvain's advice to pick up girls. But he was very inexperienced with women. Chivalry definitely promotes homoromantic social bonding among men. And perhaps because of that very male-dominated culture he grew up in, he deeply yearned for a relationship with a woman.

The tagline for the game was, "Sweet memories twisted by time's cruel hand". Dimitri's feelings for his stepsister may have been only puppy love, but it was his first time emotionally connecting with a girl. It was one of his sweetest memories. That was why Edelgard's betrayal hurt him so deeply. The emotional core of AM is Byleth taking the spot in Dimitri's heart that Edelgard once held.

The developers did not want to write an entirely different script just to accommodate male Byleth. So, they just took out the Goddess Tower scene, S-Support, and paired ending. The loss of which are a huge detriment to the integrity of the story. Dimileth is just as "canon" as its counterpart Edeleth. I don't even think AM's story or Dimitri's redemption make sense unless there was a romantic connection between those two. Dimitri's Goddess Tower event even foreshadows that specific scene, proving that the moment Byleth reached out her hand was written with romantic undertones.

Byleth being female is an integral part of the story of AM. If Byleth represented the divine masculine in CF, then it follows that she represented the divine feminine in AM. She was a vessel for the soul of the goddess, but more importantly she was a human who could directly intervene in the world and support people with her own flesh and blood.

Dimileth is often criticized for being a simple "fixing the bad boy" straight girl fantasy. But it's less cliche than people give it credit for. Byleth and Dimitri are an interesting blend of masculine and feminine qualities. Byleth is a silent protagonist, but I could tell that Dimitri enjoyed her dry sarcastic sense of humor. She was not a typical healer or pegasus knight like most FE love interests, but a deadly mercenary. She was meant to be similar to Glenn, which is why Felix sees her as his rival.

She serves the role of being Dimitri's sword and shield and stood at his side and protected him during the final battle, filling the knightly role Glenn would have if he had survived (and the role Felix serves in Hopes). She was the Seiros to his Wilhelm. Dimitri is one of the very few male characters that Byleth will give her mother's ring to when she proposes. Yes, it is a woman's ring that Dimitri wears. In fact, Dimitri's whole character arc is about rediscovering and embracing the softer feminine qualities he had as a young boy.

The Professor taught Dimitri how to live. In AG, Dimitri told Shez that from the moment he was born, he never felt like his life belonged to himself. He overworked himself because it was the only way he knew how to live. After Duscur he lost everyone, including his best friend, and his life belonged to their ghosts. The only time he could imagine being happy was upon his death, having devoted his life to forming a peaceful kingdom full of joyful citizens. He yearned for someone to stand by his side and give him a reason to live for himself.

I've seen many people online criticize Dimileth because they say Dimitri already had plenty of people that he was close to in his life and his non-Byleth relationships should have played the biggest role in his redemption. But I disagree. The story made it quite clear that Dimitri's support system was totally inadequate for his emotional needs and could not have pulled him from the abyss.

He was not actually all that close to his childhood friends, even before the Tragedy of Duscur, and he did not confide in them about what he was feeling. He said Rodrigue was the only person outside the castle he was close to. Rodrigue obviously cared for him, but he had not seen Dimitri in two years prior to the academy. Dimitri and Dedue shared a very powerful bond. Losing Dedue was the cause of Dimitri’s initial descent into savagery. But Dedue still insisted on being his vassal instead of his friend and equal.

Felix was obligated to fill the role due to his bloodline, but he did not WANT to be the person Dimitri unburdened his heart to. He was constantly irritable and losing his patience in Azure Gleam. Glenn was one of the ghosts who shadowed Dimitri's every move. And Felix said that since Glenn's death, "his memory has followed me around like a shadow." He hated acting as his brother's replacement. In their AG A-Support, it seemed like he was pretending to like the idea of being the right-hand man because of how dependent Dimitri was on him. We see a direct parallel of that scene in AM where Dimitri is hallucinating in the chapel. While Felix certainly felt compassion for him, he was very eager to foist the role of confidant onto Byleth.

Without anyone to lean on, Dimitri acts pretty monstrous. For five years, he tortured and killed people brutally, as if they were not even human. He threatened to kill Randolph's friends and remove his eyeballs before killing him and we can probably assume that he actually did that sort of thing to his other victims. I related so well with Felix because I felt the exact same mix of disgust and pity towards him.

I didn't ship Dimileth because I self-inserted onto Byleth and I wanted to marry him. I just wanted Byleth to accept him. And I don't find it difficult to believe that she would. Because before she was the stand-in for the goddess, she was the Ashen Demon who cut people down with no emotion. She only began to smile when she started teaching his class. He offered his shoulder to lean on when she lost Jeralt, something the other two house leaders didn't do.

The main ideological conflict between Edelgard and Dimitri was how much they are willing to compromise and accept the unacceptable. Dimitri seemed to understand that Edelgard had legitimate issues with the Church of Seiros as well as the existing world order. But he thought that total destruction of that system would require too much sacrifice. It was an interesting moral quandary.

And honestly, there was no easy answer. In an ideal world, there would be no false religion and no such thing as nobility, period. Even most of the nobles in the cast would have been happier to just be regular people. AM certainly doesn't end in a utopia or anything (although it's less status quo than AG). It was about the characters compromising and making concessions with an inherently unjust system because perhaps taking innocent human life is wrong even if it's for a just cause.

The Crest of Blaiddyd is associated with Strength. The Strength Tarot card is the Major Arcana of inner strength. It represents mastering raw emotions in order to bring calm to yourself or a situation. Dimitri was born on the winter solstice making him a Sagittarius, which is a masculine fire sign symbolized by a centaur. The horse portion of the Sagittarius symbol is unruly, relentless, beastly, and strong. The human portion is wisdom-seeking and rational. Dimitri's character arc was about overcoming his anger and hatred and becoming the wise "Savior King" who could reach out his hand to his mortal enemy.

Byleth & Dimitri The marriage of the newly appointed Archbishop, Byleth, and Dimitri, who officially ascended to the throne of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, further delighted the people amidst the celebrations of the end of the war. Continuously seeking a better future for Fódlan, they pursued their ideals, gradually reforming the traditional political systems and the structure of the Church. They upheld their roles as leaders of the Church and the state, engaging in intense debates at times. However, when they went on long rides or hunting trips alone together, they wore not the faces of the Archbishop and the King, but those of an ordinary, loving couple.

JRPGs are known for "killing god". AM ends not with you destroying the church but becoming its leader. The people of Fódlan paid lip service to the goddess, but they actually revered Nemesis and the 10 Elites. So much so that Rhea had no choice but to refer to them as heroes and Crests as gifts from the goddess. Fódlan is a patriarchal land. Faerghus especially so.

With Fódlan unified under Faerghus, Byleth acts as the divine feminine force who will change that society from the inside out, just as she did her husband. Is rulership by a benevolent monarch and a matriarchal pope a good enough ending? Well, that's for the player to decide. But I found it to be the best ending, both for Fódlan and for Dimitri and Byleth themselves.

[anhed-nia]

So I'm in the middle of this research project centered on Dario Argento's OPERA, for which I have required myself to watch as many screen adaptations of the Gaston Leroux novel The Phantom of the Opera as I can take. What I have determined so far is that the Phantom of the Opera is a story everyone wants to tell, but not very many people are sure of how to tell it. In fact, it's not that easy to say what it is about archetypally. You know, Wolfman stories are typically about "the beast in man" (with femininity positioned as some sort of cure for this personality split), Frankenstein stories are usually about human nature (i.e. an uncanny creature can have more humanity than vain and bigoted humans), Dracula-type vampire stories are most generally about the problems of being an outsider (queer, foreign, etc). But Phantom of the Opera is like...well, everyone likes the love story part of it, which is more or less modeled on Dracula, with a woman torn between seductive darkness and the safety of square society. But then there are all these other parts that seem to flummox people in the retelling.

I haven't read the Leroux novel YET but the first round of movies have been interesting, and also sort of perplexing. The iteration from 1925 holds up, largely due to Chaney's creation of the Phantom which remains a top tier monster. People don't often talk about the mask though! Which looks like a cross between Peter Lorre and the Devo Boogie Boy, it's disturbing and I like it.

This Phantom was born in the dungeons during a revolutionary bloodbath and is disfigured from birth, drawing on the antique idea that a mother's trauma is translated in the deformity of her children; also, compellingly, these dungeons lie fathoms beneath the opera house where the bourgeoisie are witlessly dancing on the graves of martyrs and criminals embodied in the Phantom. The ingenue Christine is an interesting figure who breaks up with her boyfriend at the beginning because she wants to give her whole self to her career; when the Phantom starts murmuring to her through the walls it's as if the spirit of opera itself has chosen her to be its avatar, which she seems to find totally rational. It's sort of cool, what other movie of this era has a likeable heroine choosing her potential for greatness over love? This is the element of the story that is the most interesting, but I'll expand on that in a minute.

The Chaney edition benefits a lot from keeping things simple. The 1943 version with Claude Raines has a little bit too much going on and the story doesn't get a lot of time to congeal between so many long opera sequences; this movie really takes the opera part of the title seriously! Actually they're the best thing about it, mostly because of Nelson Eddy who is extremely beautiful and a real opera singer, and who projects this blazing desire for Susanna Foster that is incredibly convincing. Like I'd normally say they have great chemistry, but I think it's just a lot of power radiating from him specifically.

Ahem.

Uh anyway. This movie picks up the reoccurring (but not universal) idea that the Phantom is a genteel and sophisticated composer who has just fallen on hard times, who goes mad when his latest concerto is stolen. He is disfigured while struggling with the plagiarist and installs himself under the opera house where he can haunt his former protege Christine, who is already torn between dreamy Nelson Eddy and her stuffy cop boyfriend. One of my favorite things here is that even though this film is extremely quaint and old fashioned, everybody hates cops; this Christine is less a self-determined careerist than someone who is under pressure from her artist friends who find it profoundly repulsive that she is dating a policeman. Meanwhile the Phantom is just way too gentle and sappy, which is extra disappointing because Claude Rains's Invisible Man is so fabulously chaotic and sadistic, it made me really aware of the Phantom that could have been. This one doesn't properly represent the high society vs. underworld dichotomy that Christine should be torn between. So what is this movie about? There's so many guys in it and a few different themes flapping in the breeze. Is it about love? Is it about self-actualizing through art? Is it about the cutthroat world of showbusiness? It doesn't have that much to say, ultimately, and it just seems really unmotivated. Also I don't like this mask, sue me.

The Hammer edition is even more disappointing, considering the studio's previous successes with Universal Monster remakes. Here Christine is torn between a suave opera producer, the lecherous composer who has plagiarized the Phantom, and yeah the Phantom. Too many guys, it confuses whatever the dynamic and themes are supposed to be. Michael Gough as the plagiarist is so much more evil and threatening than poor Herbert Lom's Phantom that it's hard to stay focused on the main point here. Curiously the Hammer version is rather unromantic, with the Phantom just slapping Christine around until she sings his tunes right; that is kind of refreshing in a way, although it also means that the film lacks tension, which contributes to its being surprisingly anticlimactic. The best guy in the movie is actually Thorley Walters whose character serves almost no narrative purpose at all, he just hulks around with this WTF? look on his face and it is kind of adorable. I guess I like the gross mask in this one, too.

But the Hammer version has one interesting strength, which is that Christine is singing the lead in a new opera about Joan of Arc. Just like Joan, Christine hears a disembodied voice prophesizing her ascent to power. The best thing about the Phantom lore is the idea that the woman has this latent power that can either be activated by the Phantom, or suppressed by her square boyfriend (the relationship being mutually exclusive with opera stardom in many iterations). She isn't just a love object to be possessed, she herself possesses of some kind of devastating energy that needs to be awakened and channeled--or contained and forgotten, if she decides to get married and stay home or something. This is pretty cool, and it is interestingly realized in Dario Argento's OPERA, in which (spoiler alert I guess) a killer stalks an opera singer with the aim of catalyzing her own latent psychopathy. This idea is at the center of my thesis and I'm looking forward to fleshing it out, although I'm kind of dreading all the other PHANTOMs that I have committed myself to watching. I really don't want to deal with Andrew LLoyd Webber at all, but after I get through at least the Joel Schumacher one of the those I'm going to reward myself with a rewatch of PHANTOM OF THE PARADISE which I'm going to guess right now is the best retelling of this story after the Chaney one. I'm counting on Paul Williams' music to be catchier than Webber's.

I'm whining about my own decisions, I know, but really the main hardship of this project is that now I keep getting the Vandals' punk theme song from PHANTOM OF THE MALL: ERIC'S REVENGE stuck in my head, and let me tell you that is very unwelcome. Here it is, if you've decided you're done being happy and sane:

[catadromously]

For the ask meme, can you explain how it is to fall in love in elementary school?

[making myself write in simple words]

Did you know that birds see more colors than humans do?

It's true. Birds live in color, like most people do; they watch it carefully to find food and each other. Many have an extra path of color in their eyes which listens to light beyond the blue we see. To them, the sky is painted with this new color, small animals leave bright marks of their travels, and their friends go out dressed in spots, lines, and signs.

Do you ever think about that and wonder what this color looks like to the eyes of a bird? When I learned this fact as a young school-child, the age you ask after, I wondered too. I still do. And we will never know the answer. There are some things that no picture or language can touch. We cannot travel to each other's inside worlds.

As a young school-child, the age you ask after, I figured it was about time I fell in love. Everyone was talking about it. I picked out a kid who passed me in the hall one day and decided to be in love with him. This meant I would write his name in the corner of my paper during class; a boring job, and after a week I gave up!

But no one else looked bored with this stuff. It seemed that people around me began to feel a great force, moving them as a strong wind might, but passing over me. It seemed that a crowd of birds had taken flight after a sign I could not see.

I knew the name of this sign. "Love" is one of the words in this set I write from, the ten hundred most used words in my language. I feel love too, I thought, what is different? "Marry" is in this set. "Kiss" is in this set. I knew I was supposed to marry some man some day and live with him, but that didn't sound very nice. I would rather marry my best friend. She was pretty and fun to stay with. If it had to be a boy maybe I could marry the boy who drew next to me at lunch; he wasn't pretty but he seemed fun to stay with. As for kissing I would rather kiss a cat on its little cat ears.

Something at the bottom of my heart, I thought, is still.

No, that's not right.

Something at the bottom of my heart, I thought, is missing.

No, that's not right.

I have always been able to love. Sometimes that's so surprising to me. I was born side by side with another person, who I loved even when I hated. As a young school-child, the age you ask after, I spent most of my days angry and afraid, feeling for so many reasons that the world would throw me away. And even back then when it was so hard to love people, I fell in love with stories, with bodies of water.

I kept waiting to see this other color, until I realized that all along, I hoped I never would.

Something at the bottom of my heart is too full of other things to make room.

The older people in my family worry that a piece of me is broken. They fear I'll live a life alone. But isn't that everyone's fear? I do want to live among people, among friends, to wake and see trusted faces, to offer someone food, to listen to the singing birds. I want my life to fill with color, with the hundred hundred hundred colors that are mine. With green leaves and gold windows in blue nights, with the barely yellow of teeth in laughing mouths and the yellower yellow of flowers that follow the sun, with fast black water and fast red hearts. Is that what it's like to be in love?

I walk a path away from the signs that everyone else can see. But I do not walk alone. I'm so scared. I'm so free.

[imagine-knb]

Yandere!Hanamiya with the zealot prompt "you are my religion" if possible please? I really missed this blog!

Happy Halloween!

My first Halloween ask and it's for my favorite asshole ♡ This prompt was a little difficult, but I had a lot of fun with it! Admin Neon

Content Rating: Mature (violence; semi-religious themes)

It had begun as a joke — a teasing nickname — when Hanamiya began calling you 'angel'. Started by the fact you treated people so well, not a single ill word said against you. You were a good person, the complete opposite of him. Where most people would venture to claim you were born from the promised land, those same people would spit out his name as if it were synonymous with the devil himself.

Which is why it came as a surprise to everyone when the two of you started dating. The worried glances that were always tossed your way did not go unnoticed and more than once you had people questioning your sanity out loud. But Hanamiya was a good person — you were so sure of it — because, despite his reputation, the notorious bad boy treated you well.

It was as if you were made of the divine and his devotion ran deep. Everything was said as if perfectly practiced to please you. Every look, every touch, every praise was filled with adoration. The time you spent together was like your personal little slice of heaven on earth and you relished in the fact that you were proving the world wrong. Hanamiya was not the demon people made him out to be.

Eventually, you fell in love. It was right around that time that Hanamiya had stopped calling you 'angel' and started calling you 'your holiness'. You had laughed the first time, thinking it was a joke. A silly callback to an old nickname taken a step further. You thought it even sillier when he got others involved, growling about them being too close as if he worshiped the ground you walked on. It was funny how far he was willing to take a simple, joking nickname.

But, oh, how wrong you had been.

How were you supposed to know that Hanamiya took the title seriously?

The sound of a fist meeting a jaw was honestly not that loud. Not as loud as that same jaw meeting pavement, skin scraping against uneven ground and teeth cracking against something more solid. Even louder than that was the scream that had ripped itself from your throat.

"Makoto, stop!"

But your screeched command fell upon deaf ears as Hanamiya proceeded to kick your neighbor while he was down, the toe of his shoe landing heavily against a ribcage. It made you want to puke when you heard bones snap.

"Maybe you'll think twice now before stepping this close to the divine," Hanamiya sneered as he knelt next to the beaten man.

With one hand curling into the fabric of your neighbor's shirt, yanking him off the ground by the collar, Hanamiya reeled back his other hand in a fist. You covered your eyes after knuckles met their target the first time, unable to bear witness to the scene before you. You could hear every second of the scuffle, from your neighbor's desperate attempt to flee to Hanamiya's sadistic laugh all the way down to the sound of flesh tearing as it was beaten over and over again.

It felt like ages for the sounds to finally die down. When you peered through your fingers to assess the damage, what you saw made your skin pale.

There was blood. A lot of it. None of it was Hanamiya's, you were sure, but a lot of it had found its way onto him. Spatters of copper scented fluid were on his fists, his clothes, his face — he was wearing it like a prize. Despite the fact he had stopped moving, Hanamiya's eyes remained fixated on his victim still held up by a single fist ensnared in a shirt. He looked paused in thought, as if he were debating if it'd be worth it to continue his punishments.

"My god, Makoto, what have you done?" Your meek question pulled him out of his silent reverie.

"God?" The cold stare he sported turned to you, piercing you with his gaze. They looked foreign, like a different entity entirely. Like Hanamiya was a man possessed. "I don't believe in god."

Hanamiya let go of your neighbor, letting the other man's body drop to the floor in a heavy thud. You tried to ignore the sound of your neighbor's struggling wheeze, eyes instead fixated on the slow pace at which Hanamiya was striding toward you. With slow, cautious steps, you walked backward away from him — you knew the action was futile. Your knees wanted to buckle underneath you as he crowded you against a corner. You looked up at his looming figure with newfound fear in your eyes. Every warning you'd ever heard uttered about Hanamiya, thrown out the window because you were too blindly in love, was suddenly coming back to your mind.

"Who needs a god when I have you."

You saw the glimmer in his eyes, like he was delighted when you visibly shuddered as one of his hands came up to stroke at your cheek. His knuckles smeared your neighbor's blood against your skin. The previously cold stare he harbored softened into that adoring expression you were used to, his tone saccharine as he spoke.

"You're the only thing I need. Now and forever. You are my religion."

When the kind light in his eyes dimmed and the pleasant smile on his face was replaced by a wicked smirk, curling the corners of his lips, you knew then that the Hanamiya you had fallen for had been a hoax. The demon that had been lying in the waits inside was finally ready to claw its way out. He had you cornered, tangled in a web of lies he'd woven so intricately, you'd never find your way out.

As Hanamiya shifted the caress he had on your cheek, grabbing onto your chin to pull you closer, his voice dripped with menacing venom. "And all these other infidels? They're going to burn in the crusades."

[mistress-of-vos]

For the ask game Ra'sTim (yes predictable I know but I just adore how you write them to the point where I want more information)

Ra'sTim

SHIP IT!!! 💚💚💚

Okay yeah I'm very loud about them but I'm still so so happy you asked about Ra'sTim! I'd talk about them all day. This is probably gonna be long 😅

P.S. Thank you! I'm happy you enjoy my work ❤️

1. What made you ship it?

Okay this is such an easy yet complex question. I have looked back and realized I was writing past/implied Ra'sTim on my fic notebook back on 2014 (give or take) when I was newly done reading Red Robin. I'm unsure exactly *how* is started because before 2020 I had been on an extreme Transformers fixation, and my memories are fuzzy. I believe I was shipping Ra'sTim as a background ship without fully realizing I was doing it (it should also be noted I started as a KonTim religious fan, and grew into a JayTim girlie). I actually read two of my fav Ra'sTim fics back in those years (around 2014-2015), which were in Spanish, but they had a Ra'sTim portrayal that would mark my views, as the characters make the dynamic very different to the most popular ships in fanfom.

It was at the beginning of 2020 when I went back to DC, and funnily enough climbed quickly from JayTim to BruTim and started writing an ongoing fic. While doing so, I re read past fics I remembered I used to love, and went back to read comics as well. Suddenly, after reading Red Robin again, I was looking at Ra'sTim through different glasses. And it was something happening to me in many levels, as I was also getting a bit away from Kon & Jason and more into characters as Babs & Jean-Paul. I wondered what *more* there could be to Ra'sTim, and started reading more of Ra's. As I read and explored Tim in my writing, I realized I wanted them together.

I'm unsure about how to call it. The feeling was almost of enlightenment, like suddenly seeing something that has always been there yet for some reason you couldn't distinguish its shape. Perhaps being a Megatron/Starscream shipper helped, because I saw the potential of Ra'sTim and decided to explore the possibilities and their tones of gray.

At first Ra'sTim wasn't my main ship (although I was already writing it), but as I explored them, the more I felt it was a dynamic that came naturally to me, and scenarios I found more enjoyable.

The more I read their comics and explored them in my writing, the more they felt *right*. Perhaps it was meant to happen, as I can admit they fall a lot more into my tastes in fiction. Ra's as a character drives me insane with his potential and lore, and Tim stays as my favorite bat boy and who I believe changed the Batman mythos.

And yet, everything was born from a simple panel. "You are a very dangerous young man."

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

Oh, this is a tricky one!

I like their dynamic a lot, as I'm an open immortal/mortal sucker. And that does play a huge thing in my view of them and why I come back to Ra'sTim again and again despite having other fixations. The fact that Ra's has such a complex background and is not your usual western interpretation of an immortal (let's say a vampire) is also a fav thing of mine, as I think it allows stories with him to leave usual storytelling and challenge beliefs about good & evil. The fact that he believes he's *good* and a hero is particularly tasty as well, and mixed with Tim's need for helping others and guilt when he's not useful to the world (and Batman), gives a wonderful meal.

Their size difference is extremely hot too.

Aaaaand having a canon mutual interest where they are connected in a mysterious, unavoidable way, it's a cherry on top.

Lastly, I adore their contrast as characters and how they will allow the other to win a little battle in order to win another. It's a game of cat and mouse.

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

I have unpopular opinions on most characters and ships. Some of them I feel comfortable expressing and others... Not much.

With Ra'sTim I have many of them, but mostly, it's that I loathe how other ship fandoms use Ra's as a random villain to hurt Tim and prop up another ship. For me, that's almost insulting, as Ra's is already a hurt character broken by many writers at DC. For me Ra'sTim it's never about "evil, mean Ra's hurting Tim because villains do that" and even less would I do it for another ship. I enjoy dark Ra'sTim, but never to hurt the characters.

My unpopular opinion then would be about the characters, perhaps. I don't see Ra's being cruel to Tim without reason, because in my mind, Ra's feels *love* and he cares for Tim. And Tim loves him back. They are just messy and won't communicate well, but that doesn't mean Ra's will go full evil and that Tim is a damsel in distress needing saving.

I don't see Ra's as an abuser. Neither do I see Tim as a helpless victim. And I believe this narrative hurts all characters involved without real motive besides wanting to prop up someone else and being too lazy as to read a less known villain or writing an original one.

[random-content-from-4by22]

I remember when I saw this 'Your Boyfriend' probably a year or so back, I don't remember who it was made by or if the post still exists on Tumblr, but now that I think about it, for some reason, I can see Reboot Dante having a similar reaction.

What was the post about? Their S/I suddenly going into labour and Peter doing the delivery himself instead of taking his S/I to the hospital.

(please read this at your own risk, this post might contain something disturbing)

How does this post from a yandere game translate to Reboot Dante? It's kinda simple for me and somewhat based on a few headcannons;

First of all, Dante had been locked up in what looks like a mental hospital room (this is possible non-cannon since we don't see or even get a reference to it in the game). So i find it reasonable to believe that Dante has some trust issues with hospitals.

That, plus the fact his S/O is carrying HIS child, a half Nephilim, he may have had the thought of what would happen when the doctors check up on the baby after its birth and finding out they're a half-Nephilim (the fear would be doubled if this were to take place before Limbo was destroyed and demons could still disguise as humans).

As soon as his S/O says they're going into labour, be it in his trailer or at his S/O's home, he's laying them down and ripping off their lower clothing, telling them to push.

If anyone is there with them, Dante is immediately going to yell at them to get out, focused solely on making sure his partner delivers safely and the baby is born.

He's holding his S/O's legs apart, telling them to push but also trying to reassure them. He is freaking out and doesn't know what he is doing, having no experience what so ever, but listening to the inner voices of his mind and of his angelic and demonic half: don't go to the hospital, his partner and child need him, don't let them be taken away.

I feel like Dante would've learnt how to use his powers to heal others during the pregnancy, so will try to use it to soothe his partner and make sure the baby is healthy.

Once that baby is birthed, he is way more relaxed now, holding his child. He is VERY tired after the whole ordeal, having been stressed and used his powers to keep the baby healthy and his partner soothed and well (not to mention nearly Devil Triggering) . So he is definitely going to fall asleep beside his partner, still holding the baby and not caring about the mess of liquids for the moment.

We can definitely get that someone will hear the screaming of his partner and his yelling to push (especially if it happened in his trailer), so when the ambulance comes to take them all to the hospital and he wakes up, he is SO CLOSE to Devil triggering (again) and strangling the nearest the doctor, before he is led to where his S/O and baby are by Vergil (cuz god forbid what would happen if he had woke up in a normal hospital where no one is aware of his Nephilim heritage and the baby being half Nephilim).

Still a protective and loving Boi when the whole ordeal is over and they all go home.

Thank you for your time and sorry if anything here was found disturbing.

[finanhasmyheart]

Finan's backstory in the series (my theory)

I've been working on this theory for a while, and I've finally written it down in full!

Well, we know that in the books Finan was born into nobility as crown prince of the Ulaid kingdom. A marriage between him and the princess of the Ui'Neill was arranged, but Finan fell in love with his younger brother Conall's wife, a simple dairy maid. They fled south to hide. But the Ui'Neill along with Conall pursued them, the girl was killed in front of Finan, he was stripped of his title and wealth and eventually sold into slavery to Sverri.

But I have some reason to believe that Finan's backstory in the show may be different. There are only three little facts we know about his past, according to the brief comments he made in the third and fourth seasons.

Finan's father died before he was taken into slavery, and Finan was apparently physically abused by him (at least as a child).

Finan's mother seemed to be a wise woman, and apparently also died before the events on the slave ship.

Finan saw members of his family in Ireland die from the same sickness seen in season four.

I took some of this information from an interview with Mark, where he says that this background was given to him by the director. So this could mean that those "men as strong as bears" he was talking about were members of his family... maybe that's how his father died?

These facts lead me to believe that Finan did not belong to a noble family, but to a family of warriors in the service of a King or a Lord. So they would have been more exposed to the horrors of disease.

I also think Finan's reaction to Uhtred's ascension to the throne of Mercia is indicative of this, as he was very happy and proud to present himself and the rest of the boys as royal advisors, as if he had never had such a status before.

Finally, the official fact sheet of the series introduces Finan as "a former warrior of Ireland". Other characters such as Steapa are also introduced as "warriors" without giving them any other title.

In addition to all this, Mark has mentioned in some interviews that although he had hoped that Finan's past would be mentioned in the series as in the books, the director not only had no plans for this but did not even confirm that the two pasts are the same.

After this analysis, I come to the conclusion that Finan definitely did not belong to a noble family but was a warrior in the service of one.

Now, how did he end up on the slave ship? I guess we will never know, but I theorise that after the kingdom of Ireland to which Finan belonged was stricken by disease, it plunged into a socio-economic crisis, for medieval Ireland was not known for its resources, it was considered a poor land unlike England. So perhaps the ruler decided to sell some of his warriors as slaves in exchange for goods, remembering that Sverri's ship was a merchant ship. Perhaps this idea could explain why Finan tried to excuse Halig's mental breakdown to Sverri by saying it was the fever.

This wouldn't be the first time that the show has made a change of origin to its characters, for example, although not very significant, in the books Aelfwynn is Aethelred's daughter and not Erik's, Aethelred is Uhtred's cousin on his mother's side, among others. Not to mention the radical changes in the personalities of some other characters such as Aldhelm.

I may have theorised too much and filled in all the missing gaps with my assumptions, but with the little data we have this is the conclusion I came to after some time of thinking...

I would love to hear your opinion on this theory and I don't know, perhaps come to a new conclusion✨️

[thislovintime]

Photos © Jeff Hochberg/Getty Images, Jeff Hochberg/Rock Negatives, Disc & Music Echo, Icon and Image/Getty Images; photo 9 shows Peter at Decca in London, with Cyril Black of Screen Gems, Terry Oates of RCA Victor, Jack Magraw of Screen Gems, and Colin Borland of Decca (photo published in Billboard’s January 20, 1968 issue).

“The Peter Tork you saw on Top Of The Pops last week was, to use his own words, ‘My public image.’ The zany goon-like character was in top TV form as he clowned his way through 30 minutes of semi-chaos […]. Some accused him of acting, and he admitted of course that he was. That was what people excepted him to do. But the Peter Tork who peacefully sat cross-legged on a table in a small room at Decca’s Regent Street offices was Peter Tork, no acting, no clowning — just a singularly intelligent young man with a surprisingly (when you think of the TV character) wide vocabulary. ‘I don’t know why it is. I just seem to have been born with a large vocabulary and now I’m stuck with it!’ [….] On more than one occasion, armed with his own camera, he turned the tables on unsuspecting photographers, most of whom didn’t really appreciate the subtlety of the Tork sarcasm.” - Disc and Music Echo, January 13, 1968

“He sat cross-legged on the Big Executive Desk, surveying us all with confidence but occasionally giving himself away by tearing nervously at one of his multi-colored moccasins. Around his neck he wore beads ('I like them’) and his bearded face smiled the most when he was asked questions about fans, shaving, or the fringed handbag around his waist. Peter Tork was meeting the Press — not the zany stumbler from the Monkees’ series, or the fellow you saw teeny-bopping around your ‘Top Of The Pops’ screen last Thursday. This was a gentle and articulate Monkee who talked like a Websters’ Dictionary.” - Alan Smith, NME, January 13, 1968

“In fact I arrived at London Airport completely unannounced and was able to walk around the city for three days completely unnoticed. I visited ‘Granny Takes A Trip,’ ‘Apple’ and the ‘Speakeasy’ and I found them all very good. In fact the juggler’s shirt I’m wearing was bought at Apple.” - Peter Tork, Disc and Music Echo, January 13, 1968

“Peter Tork, while living up to the TV legend, is straightforward, friendly and very human. […] [H]e thoughtfully tugged his sun-streaked brown hair, which erupts from his mobile face and slides down the slender stem of his neck in a silken flow, only to find its exit to the shoulders cut off abruptly by the stylist’s scissors. He has almost always the look of patient resignation worn under the make-up of great clowns, and his face arranges itself into any number of humorous attitudes with the ease of a bendy doll… screwed up like an unwanted love letter or innocent as a boy accused of scrumping apples. His mouth is soft and sweet, and there is both shrewdness and kindness in his small, searching eyes. […] He winced when a reporter opened his question with ‘we’re honored to have you here,’ and on being informed that ‘your banjo-playing was for many of us the highlight of your concerts here,’ he murmured a quick ‘that’s very kind of you’ and brushed off the questioner. Compliments wash against him like so much spray on a cliff-face. […] The conference broke up with requests for autographs all around, and for the first time, Peter seemed genuinely touched by this subtle flattery. My last sight of him was a smiling figure signing autographs for fans in the rain, each one with a ‘Love from Peter Tork’ and a flower. And the sweet smell from the joss stick smoldering in his hand was still with me as I walked away.” - June Southworth, Fabulous 208, January 17, 1968

“‘We thought the present shows were losing their impetus. They were getting harder to act. We felt yoked by the plots. We want our shows to be fun, simple… but inventive, fresh and interesting. Did you see “Magical Mystery Tour”? Did you like it? Good. That’s what we like. We could not do more shows like those in the past. We must go as far afield as possible… on the lines of “Magical Mystery Tour.”’ […] Peter also revealed that in the future he hopes to concentrate more on folk music, particularly on the Monkees’ forthcoming albums.” - NME, January 13, 1968

Additional photos from the press reception, and Peter looking through entries from fans for NME's Monkee Faces contest. (More photos from that occasion here.)

During his time in London, Peter also wrote "Long Title..." (read more here), was a guest presenter on Top Of The Pops, and took part in recording sessions for George Harrison's Wonderwall Music, playing banjo (more about that here).

[alphabetboyluvr]

hi Holly. I just want to appreciate u. u don’t have to reply but this is more just a message to you.

I think ur the best person I have a parasocial platonic relationship with. Not only do you write the best stories (my heart beats for BD) but you also are the best most good intentions, good morals, person.

I like that you constantly update us on your work, your thoughts, and other stuff. It’s like you’re the teacher who engages with her students and tells her kids “guys the marks will be released Friday”, doesn’t take a long time to mark, doesn’t bat around the bush, etc. You never alienate your readers which I feel like a lot of other authors do. I love how appreciative you are of ur readers and friends

Also thank you for posting about Palestine. This is what made me wanna write the message. Im currently typing through tears as I just watched a kid cry because he saw the bombing in Gaza. His trauma is already started and he’s just 3. Thank you thank you for being a good soul. A true girls girl. A true citizen who wants the best for her world. I value you a lot. I love that you’re another girl who has big boobs ( I have a H cup girl it’s fucking horrible but I love that I get to be appreciated through ur stories) , thank you for being so creative, thank you for just knocking it out of the park.

U deserve nothing but the best. Please keep your standards high because you are of the highest standard. I love u girl

<3

honestly i could have cried reading this, what a gorgeous display of kindness 😭 thank you so much.

this is a long answer so I'll add a read more haha

I think (in a way) I also have sort of a parasocial relationship with you guys - I'm often shown such generous amounts of love and support and it's a dynamic that I don't really know how to describe. we might not know each other and yet you all see such a huge part of my personality that a lot of people don't. you hear of virgo boy and of the little trips I'm going on and all sorts of intricate details and yet if you were to see me in the street, you'd probably have no clue of who I am 🥲 sometimes I wonder (when I go to army events / bts places) if I'm talking with people who have read my fics but we collectively have no idea. its a strange little life to live, but one that I enjoy.

in regards to Palestine, and the humanitarian crisis in Gaza, I'm deeply horrified by what we're witnessing and am devastated at my government (alongside other western nations) facilitating what's happening. if all I can do is spread awareness or write letter, then you best believe that is what I'll do.

I'm afforded with such kindness that it only feels right I should reciprocate that - I keep you guys updated because it keeps us all happy haha. I love doing teasers and getting that initial reaction from you guys, it's so much fun, honestly. while I write for myself, I'd be a total liar if I said I didn't care for other people's opinions. your input is important to me!!

I've friends in all corners of the world, of all faiths and diverse backgrounds, and the idea of any of them experiencing such horror for the simple fact of where they were born is unthinkable. the people suffering are daughters, sons, husbands, wives, siblings - they are people and they are loved and it is barbaric to see what is happening and not feel strongly about it, in my opinion.

we all deserve the right to safety, freedom and a comfortable living environment. i don't really think my views are that groundbreaking, but I'm glad to know many of you feel the same ♡♡

honestly the big titty agenda part made me laugh so much!! I've been wearing a posture corrector lately cause the girlies have just been a nightmare 🥲 and the titty worship in my stories??? comes from experience!!! you'll find someone who appreciates them, as well as appreciates you, I promise 😭

thank you so much for your message - honestly you've no idea how much it means. have the loveliest day!!!

mwah x

[sneezemonster15]

Hey...did you saw Michael B Jordan's Creed III interview about the inspiration he got from the Vote2 ?? does that mean he knows Naruto & Sasuke are more than friends??

Hehehe. I think what this dude said is testament to how powerful and inspiring vote two is, and in saying that, how beautifully nuanced and strong Sasuke and Naruto's relationship is. And no wonder, Michael B Jordan is an artist, he will respond to something artfully, visually, stunningly emotional like vote two, and get inspired by it and give it an homage in his own work. Not surprising at all. It's how artists do. Hehe. Well, I think it's pretty clear to anyone with a bit of sense that their relationship is much much more intense than friendship. The opinion that they are 'just friends' is extremely counter intuitive, because Kishi goes a looong and intricate way to impress upon the audience how special their relationship is, and that 'just friends' simply doesn't cut it. The whole point of this story is the here come along Naruto and Sasuke who are both destined to break the chains of hatred their world is bound in. They will do something that no one else before them could do, no matter how strong. Because the boys had something the rest of them didn't. Love. Their pure unadulterated love for each other that makes them prioritize each other over everything else in their world. Their bond is stronger than anything else their world has seen. That's why they were the destined ones who changed this world. And then in a stroke of irony, became bound to it.

That Kishi goes such a long and hard way to impress this upon the audience is literally proof of the fact that even though Naruto calls Sasuke his 'friend', it was never true, and that Naruto simply didn't understand what to call it. His calling Sasuke friend has always felt unsatisfactory to the audience. It was designed that way. So many characters in the manga itself are offended that Naruto would go such a long way to save a 'friend'. When it comes to Sasuke, he doesn't listen to anyone, not even Jiraiya, someone Naruto considers 'family'. Not Kakashi, not Gaara, not Shikamaru, not Sakura, not Raikage, no one. Sasuke himself is never pleased when Naruto calls him a friend, he is either surprised, displeased or angry. Consistently. Which is EXACTLY why his quite evident burstout in chapter 698 makes so much sense, it is key to the resolution of the story and their relationship.

"But what does it exactly mean to you?"

As we have seen in the whole course of the manga, brother hasn't cut it, neither has friends or comrades. They are each other's 'one and only', the word 'friends' is obviously used as mockery. Layering. Just Kishi doing his thang. But it has a purpose. It is a very unusual story for its genre after all. It needs to be subtle and not everyone gets it. Certainly not in this target group.

It's just plain denial to call them just friends. There's no precedent in their universe itself, that's like them. No other friendship, no other relationship, in the manga itself looks like theirs, people who call them just friends are quite obviously mistaken. To say they are just friends is proof that you either weren't paying attention or were born yesterday to not have known what just friendship looks like.

I think I can safely say Jordan is smarter than that. He knows that vote two is great because it is great. As simple as that. It's not a matter of opinion. Kishi hits all the spots narratively and visually. Vote two was lent authenticity (I mean something like vote two could have easily been the most cringefest ever if it happened between the wrong two characters or if those characters didn't have the level of nuanced, hi powered development that SNS had), because of how Kishi wrote this story. It is a love story. While talking about many serious themes, everything in it was geared towards the development of characters and relationship of Sasuke and Naruto. They are literally the 'main act'. That's why vote two has the impact that it does. That's why it inspires people like you and me and this man and so many fans all over the world.

But some fans think they are brothers because that's the lens they watched them through. And as their projection takes over, they simply ignore all the 'red flags' in their brotherhood vision. What they remember is that Naruto once called Sasuke his brother. Vote one, Naruto 'wonders' if Sasuke was like a brother, because he has no frame of reference to understand the nature of relationships, like cmon, he is an orphan who has always lived alone, what's not cracking? Heteronormative people don't really see the quite evident nuance in that scene, and we know for a fact that Kishi is hella good at layering his scenes, especially SNS scenes. With SNS, Kishi is so sensitive, clever and passionate and crazy and romantic and really funny. He is very well read, he has admitted that he spends a long time on research and he is a cinema geek. His writing is so emotionally intuitive, it has impacted the fans to such a point that not only almost all of his primary, secondary, tertiary and even extra characters have their own global fanbase, lol, but the polarization within the fandom also has its own fanbase. Hahah. Naruto fans are very emotionally attached to their lens, because the story had such an impact on them. They are sure of their lenses, it's very hard to budge them. Until they grow up. Some do. That's when the revelation happens. Just dawns on them. Lol. I bet you have seen more fans who converted to SNS from NH or SS but rarely vice versa.

But shounen is targeted at a certain age group/target group, so you do see a lot of underdeveloped sense of comprehension here, especially for a story like Naruto, a gay love story in the mindfully clever disguise of a shounen battle manga. Does anyone know when Micheal B Jordan watched Naruto the first time? His wiki page doesn't say anything about that -

Also, he is talking about anime, and the anime does try to hetishize Naruto. For a person who is already projecting on their characters and relationship, filler scenes like Naruto telling Sai (lol even the studio pointedly chose to portray him as gay, but apparently he still comes off as bi to some fans, idky) he doesn't swing 'that' way, reinforce this projection of theirs.

I think if one hasn't had exposure to gay media or gay visibility/representation, and if one hasn't been able to intellectually normalise homosexuality, it would be easier for them to project on Sasuke and Naruto's relationship and bypass a lot of nuances Kishi writes and draws so pointedly. Also, anime filler doesn't help.

[goodqueenaly]

Are Areo Hotah chapters maybe an insight how the average guy thinks when is entangled in the Players of the game . Of All the Servants and Guards who Varys questions on the latent schemes. On the people who only know about classiefied information because their line of work brings them to evesdrop on the players. On All people, who want life a simple life

None of the above, for me. Rather, I see Areo as another exploration of the Kingsguard - but uniquely, and pointedly, from the point of view of someone who is not at all part of that organization. 

Indeed, what makes Areo Hotah interesting to me is that he is a nearly exact expression of the fundamental ideals of the Kingsguard. Prince Doran explicitly underlines the parallel, reminding the Sand Snakes that the knights of the Kingsguard “are sworn to obey, just as my captain is”. Indeed, “Serve. Protect. Obey.” is not simply Areo Hotah’s creed, handed down by the bearded priests - it is an almost perfect summation of the (ostensible) duties of the Kingsguard (compare, say, that would-be Kingsguard beau ideal Barristan Selmy’s observation that “[t]he first duty of the Kingsguard was to defend the king from harm or threat” and that “[t]he white knights were sworn to obey the king's commands … serve his pleasure and defend his name and honor”). If the Kingsguard are not required to literally abandon their birth names upon joining, they are required to surrender all right to family claims and inheritance; similarly, Areo Hotah gives only the briefest thought to the birth family back in Norvos who sold him to the bearded priests when he was a boy. Just as the Kingsguard are forbidden to wed or have children, so Areo has since the age of 16 been ritually married to his “ash-and-iron wife”, the longaxe. Likewise, just as Daenerys teases Barristan with the Westerosi riddle “Who listens to everything yet hears nothing?” - with Barristan correctly answering “A knight of the Kingsguard” - so Areo’s role in the story is to listen to everything the Prince of Dorne chooses to say and hear, but to offer virtually nothing in the way of his own commentary or input (becoming, in fact, something of a background character in his own chapters, an observer rather than a primary actor). 

Yet Areo Hotah, of course, is not a knight if the Kingsguard, nor could he be mistaken for such. Where the knights of the Kingsguard might show some allegiance to the Faith of the Seven - if only given the historical connection between the religion of the Andals and their introduction of knighthood to Westeros - Areo’s role as protector is inextricably linked to the dominant religion of Norvos and its de facto theocratic bearded priests. Where the knights of the Kingsguard wear as the emblem of their office a white cloak - which, as Arys Oakheart so notably demonstrates, can be removed or hidden, effectively erasing the Kingsguard knight’s identity as such - Areo Hotah bears the symbol of his guardianship literally burned into his chest - a hidden designation, but also one which cannot be removed. Where any aristocratic Westerosi boy, steeped in martial tradition from a young age, might dream of a place in the Kingsguard as the acme of a chivalric career, Areo Hotah held no agency over his fate; his family’s poverty rather than his personal ambitions determined his training with the bearded priests, who thereafter (at least according to Areo Hotah’s WOIAF app article) appear to have “assigned [Areo] as a guardsman to the family of Lady Mellario”. Areo is, in sum, a foreigner - not born to Westeros, its faith or its knightly legacy, especially not the Kingsguard. 

That dichotomy - Areo as the most basic ideals of the Kingsguard, presented in a man completely outside the organization - allows Areo Hotah to serve as a contrast to the Kingsguard POVs GRRM writes in the main novels. Not for Areo Hotah the question of his role’s mandated obedience, such as arises in Jaime’s story; he shows virtually no reluctance to any directive from his prince (only rigidly and almost automatically allowing Obara to pass him when Prince Doran commands it). Not for Areo Hotah the question of what it means to serve a prince, and when that vow of service might be forsaken, as arises in Barristan’s story; indeed, Areo seems to have weathered the transition from the bearded priests to the family of Lady Mellario, and from Mellario’s service to Doran’s, without any apparent internal strife or conflict.  Not for Areo Hotah the crisis of love, or lust, versus duty, over which Arys Oakheart agonizes (even while ignoring his far more serious moral failings); Areo’s clear paternal affection for Arianne does not prevent him from cutting down her lover in front of her or arresting and imprisoning her and her cousins at Doran's directive. Indeed, it may not be coincidental that Areo Hotah has already killed one member of the Kingsguard and may yet kill another (as he ominously predicts that Balon Swann “will not die so easy as the other”, while promising to himself that “[i]f it came to that [i.e. fighting and killing Swann], Hotah would be ready”): against this most elementary embodiment of the Kingsguard’s values, neither the soiled knight Arys Oakheart (as his POV chapter so appropriately names him) nor the evil-compromised Balon Swann (who could only badly dissemble to the Martell court regarding the plot to murder Trystane on the return trip to King’s Landing) can stand up and live. 

In that sense, Areo’s POV functions, I think, almost like Victarion’s. I don’t mean to suggest that the two men are similar in personality or outlook or that GRRM is mocking Areo as he is clearly mocking Victarion, but rather that the commentary and conflict is external to the characters rather than internal. Victarion, infamously “dumb as a stump”, never questions his place in the universe, no matter how awful, hypocritical, or (now) doomed it might seem; rather, through him, GRRM underlines how terrible the Old Way system of the ironborn is in this most devoted adherent to it. Similarly, Areo Hotah does not examine or criticize his role as Doran’s captain of the guards; indeed, in his second (and, for now, final) chapter, Areo refuses to answer the existential question Doran poses, instead noting internally that “all he knew” was “Serve. Protect. Obey. Simple vows for simple men.” In that inflexible fidelity to his creed, Areo Hotah serves as further commentary on the Kingsguard as an institution.