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ravencincaide · 1 year ago

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Surprise, You son of a-

Summary: You acquired a stalker. A man who harmed those around you, but never touched or approached you. The plan was for you to play bait, lure him and mace him. Then Dazai would take care of the rest. Unfortunately there was just one thing you did not calculate with…

Pairing: Dazai x fem!reader (x dark/ Yandere Chuuya)

Inspired by Sweetober prompt 7: Sharing clothes

Warnings: Cursing, abduction and drugs, stalking, mention of sexual content including hint/mention of non-con, voyeurism and questionable consent. Insanity- if you really try. It’s dark, okay?

Enjoy?

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“ I think you’re right, this might actually work!” You exclaimed excitedly as you stared at yourself in the mirror; you were dressed in a pair of light pants and a white shirt. Over it, you borrowed your boyfriend's vest- a dark thing that was just a tad too long coming down to your midthigh. And over it his beige coat, which too was oversized, the sleeves coming past your fingertips and the coat itself stopped mere inches above the ground. Though you didn’t necessarily think it a bad thing, the less of your body that was visible the better. You had gathered your hair up into braids which you then shifted around your head, hiding them beneath the wig cap and the dark brown wig which almost matched Dazai’s shade.

The rest was just bandages and make up.

You both noticed that you were not a perfect replica of Dazai; too feminine even with all the binding, wrong hair lengths and colour, wrong height and paler complexion, but you both reasoned that no one would be looking too closely. At least not the one this disguise was intended for.

“ See Y/N, I told you it wouldn’t be an issue to get you to look exactly like a lady kill-aouch” Dazai hollered in pain as you pinched him, sending him a warning glare not to re-attempt to finish that sentence. The grin you got in return made you wonder if the physical pain was actually a punishment to him- or foreplay.

Rather than find out you turned your attention back towards the mirror, your fingers moving to fidgeting with the wig. You were playing ignorant to his advances. This earned you a dramatic sigh, as if you were crushing his heart. “ Ohh Belladonna why must you be so cruel to me, my love? If only you’d fulfill my humble request of–

“ No We’re not turning this into some self-cestious kink-exploration for you.” you cut him off with a warning glare as your hands finally left your wig and grasped the can of mace from your nightstand. You brought it close to yourself, the control-freak part of you wondering if it worked and a rational part of you reminding you that it was best not to find out.

Especially inside.

Sensing your nervousness Dazai came up and rested his hand on top of yours, a moment of seriousness on his face. “ It will go fine Bella” he promised “ I’ll be right behind you. You just need to lure him into an alley and spray the mace. I’ll handle the rest.” Then a quick peck on the lips, which made you smile.

You leaned forward and gave him a slightly deeper kiss salvaging the closeness. Before it could go too far you broke it off and pushed some rogue strands out of his face, staring at him with all the love in your heart. You were so lucky to have him. “ You know If this works and we get rid of this stalking sun of a biscuit quickly we’ll have plenty of time to take a version of this outfit for a ride in bed- what do you think?”

You were met with a Cheshire’s grin, Dazai’s lips on yours while he carefully walked you backwards towards your front door. “ Then let's get this over and done with Belladonna” he purred before he opened the front door and shoved you out before slamming it in your face, in your typical- he’s-annoyed-you-enough-fashion.

You stumbled, caught yourself before you made an act of clingy Dazai; banging on the door, a fake cry of ‘why Belladonna why’ before dancing away to the sound of Dazai laughing through the wood.

You just hoped he didn’t blow it.

The act was about as perfect as your appearance; but you hoped it was enough to fool your stalker. After all this was a man who never got close to you and never approached you- from what you could tell at least. But he did seem to hold a grudge towards anyone who dared visit your apartment. In fact, if he hadn’t hurt one of your childhood friends a few weeks ago you wouldn’t have even noticed his existence. Now however you felt like you were watched wherever you went. Yet no matter how hard you looked you never saw him.

Dazai suggested turning this game of cat-and-mouse around; they’d still think they were the pray and be too blind to notice they were walking right into a trap. The only thing you had to do was pretend to be Dazai and lure him away and disarm him, then your boyfriend who’d follow from a distance, would take care of the rest. You shuddered slightly when you thought over what ‘the rest’ meant. But decided against asking.

Sometimes ignorance really was bliss.

As you left your apartment complex you headed down into the half busy streets in a rather relaxed fashion, arms folded above your head, using the sleeves of the coat as a way to keep another part of your face obscured. Your eyes flickered from one person to another; teenagers sharing candy in the corner of the street, a young couple shopping together and a bunch of punks trying to trick an older teen into buying them cigarettes. There were some elderly too enjoying the warm weather, sharing pleasantries and complaining about how things have changed from their youths.

No one looked particularly threatening and you were beginning to think your charades failed. Just when you were about to turn back around you sensed it; that bone chilling feeling of being watched. You resisted the urge to look around or pick up your pace as you turned off the main road and towards a smaller street filled with tiny mom and pop shops- the route Dazai told you to follow. The narrow street drew less attention and had several decent obscured alleys. You kept your pace slow, listening closely. About a minute after you turned into the alley you heard the fast click clack of dress shoes behind you.

Bingo.

You heard the steps grow closer and quickly rounded a corner towards an even smaller alley. One step, then you pressed your back against the wall, mace in hands. Your eyes closed as you focused on silencing your breathing. Seconds ticked in your head as the footsteps grew closer and closer, growing faster, eager to not let you out of sight.

3, 2, 1 .

You jumped out back onto the larger alley. “ Buu you son of a –” you yelled, pressing down on the mace and spraying for a good thirty seconds. It wasn’t until it was too late that you realized who the figure doubling in pain was. But when you did, you dropped your weapon with a bewildered cry.

Clang of the metal echoed against the walls as the mace rolled away out of sight.

“ Chuuya what the? I’m so sorry!” You started taking a step towards him. Then as you felt your eyes burn you quickly moved back again and ran a hand through the wig trying to mask your embarrassment.

“ I-its okay Y/N” he coughed a few times waving his hand in an attempt to get some clean air into his lungs. It took him surprisingly little time to completely recover. The only trace of your little attack being a redness around his eyes and a slightly runny nose which he took care of with a clean handkerchief. Now his attention was on you, his look clearly demanding to know what the hell you were up to.

You just shook your head a no- it was best not to ask. “ I’m so sorry again” you mumbled feeling incredibly stupid. “ Come, let me get you a cup of tea as an apology.”

Chuuya raised his hand as if to say not to worry about it. Then he lowered it and flashed you a smirk; “ Only if we can agree on coffee”

“ Deal!” you exclaimed before taking a look around. Realizing you were still in the alley you turned on your heel and continued heading straight towards the exit.

At the corner there would be this wonderful little shop that sold all sorts of imported coffee and coffee-based treats. It was one of the pricier shops in the area so you deemed that it would be good enough to suit the executives tastes. Chuuya followed you, however rather than walk right beside you he kept a step or two behind you. You glanced up at him, then carefully glanced behind him towards the alley entrance with slight confusion.

You still couldn’t shake off the feeling of being watched- the icy cold dread in the pit of your stomach which grew with each step that you took. A warning bell was going off in your head but you couldn’t quite place a finger on why. The notion was ridiculous after all, Chuuya was your friend.

“ What are you doing here, Chuuya?” You asked, making small talk. Suddenly you paused mid step as the sense of dread became overbearing. Dazai should have caught up with you already.

But he didn't. Why?

Did it mean that the stalker saw through your charade? Impossible. You weren’t perfect but you knew the act was good. You and Dazai had practiced for hours and even fooled Atsushi with it when you took it for a test-run. No, the act was good enough. Unless your target knew Dazai very well. Say, like the back of their hand, familiar with every single mannerism of his down to the way he walked, talked and breathed. If that were the case they’d first prevent your boyfriend from helping you and then, “ Say Chuuya, Dazai was your twin dark. You’d have realized I’m not him unless-”

You never got to finish your sentence as a sweet scent filled your senses a second before Chuuya took one larger step closing the distance between you. He clasped a cloth over your nose and mouth. His other hand wrapped around you in an iron grip, keeping you in place and restraining your struggles. You screamed and screamed, trying to bite the cloth away from yourself, your fingers clawing at his hands. But with each scream you inhaled more of the substance. You could feel your body growing weaker on you- betraying you.

It was no use.

“ I’m sorry Y/N, you’re too smart for your own good” Chuuya whispered in your ear as dark dots played in your vision “ You should have just left it alone- you really should have.” That was the last thing you heard as you passed out, praying that Dazai would find you..

Your head was killing you, like a thousand woodpeckers pecking away at your skull. Your body felt heavy, groggy and your limbs refused to cooperate properly. You silently cursed yourself as you tried to pry your eyes open. The mixture of medicines in your body fighting with you, trying to keep you under. What was it? Anastesia? Were you under an operation? No, it was something else, something else and chloroform. You knew chloroform, you’d recognize it anywhere; the sickly sweet smell that made your stomach turn. So why didn’t you recognize it before it was too late?

Because it was Chuuya.

The thought made you angry and with it came a burst of adrenaline: snapping your eyes open, you sat up in one quick motion before you felt your stomach turn. You clutched it, uncertain whether whatever you ate that morning was going to stay inside you or not. The world span, the colors twisting and fleeting into one another making the unfamiliar objects around you almost indistinguishable. One thing you were certain though; this wasn’t a hospital, your room or any kind of mom and pop shop.

You heard a sound, someone rushing to your side and then felt an arm quickly wrap around your shoulders steadying you. A hand was on your back, rubbing up and down “ Shhh shh shh, not so quickly Y/N, you need more rest, you’ll feel better soon I promise.” You tried to focus on the voice as another wave of nausea rolled over you. On instinct you curled more in on yourself trying to make the world stop spinning

“ Wanna throw up Sweetheart or are you good?”

That nickname made you freeze. You shook your head making a weak attempt at pushing him away from yourself. Damn traitor was what you wanted to call him but all that came out was a pitiful “ njah”

You felt something cool press to your lips before he tilted you back slightly. “ Just water. Drink, it will help clear your head.”

The water splashed against your lips, a drop rolling down your chin. You resisted the temptation. You heard Chuuya sigh before he moved. He shifted the glass more, giving it a deeper angle. The glass pressing past your lips, the water now almost slipping down your throat. You had no choice, so you drank, feeling instant relief. The water felt soothing, like a miracle for a dying man and you could feel your stomach settling down. Almost too quickly it finished, yet you were too stubborn to ask him for another. You felt so tired again, to the point you barely noticed as he lowered you back in bed and covered you with a blanket.

You were out cold in seconds.

The next time you woke up, you felt well enough to take in your surroundings. You were in an unfamiliar room, laying on a rather large bed with a metal headboard. You could see cuffs dangling from above your head, one set on either side, yet your arms were free, resting beside you beneath a thin fuzzy blanket. You guessed the room wasn’t very big but didn’t dare turn your head and check. Not yet. You could hear him breathing a few paces away and did not want to risk having to look at that traitorous hypocritical bastard without proper assessment of your state.

When you shifted your legs,you felt the cold metal of the cuff cutting into your right ankle and heard the shift of the metal chain. It was heavy, so much you could say. You doubted you’d be able to break it with sheer force. Your fingers inched towards your pockets, still icy cold and somewhat slow in their movement. As they brushed against your clothes you realized you were still in Dazai’s attire and cursed silently in your head. Then you drew in a deeper breath and closed your eyes, thinking of your next move.

“ Don’t try to use your ability” you heard Chuuya’s voice ring loud and clear a small distance away from you. “ It’s a government chain, you’ll only end up hurting yourself if you try.” You didn’t grace him with a reply. He didn’t seem to mind as he continued speaking” I’m sorry I had to take your gun away. I couldn’t have you do anything stupid”

Before you knew it you were back in a sitting position. “ What the fuck do you mean stupid? And why the hell are you doing this.” You yelled at Chuuya who was sitting on a chair a good distance away from your bed. His legs were crossed, his hands resting on top of them palms up. His usual jacket was not on him; it hung casually across the back of another chair with his hat on top. On that second chair was a tray of food, a flimsy bottle of water and a handful of pills in a small white paper cup.

“ I know it's hard to see it right now, but I’m not here to hurt you Y/N. I’m here to help” He said each word slowly and calmly, clearly hoping to soothe you.

Your face shifted into an expression of bewilderment and anger “ Help me? How does beating up my friend and then abducting me ‘help me’ Chuuya? How?!”

“ Because Y/N you’re so caught up in Dazai’s webb you’ve stopped caring about yourself and your future. You just bow your head to his every beck and call and that’s not you” he stated as he leaned to the side and lifted up the tray moving it closer to you.

“ What are you–” Your sentence got caught in your throat as you took a look, finally took a look at Chuuya. He was older than what you remembered him to be. More worn out perhaps? There wasn’t a hint of a smile on his lips, not even a smirk or a grin. His lips were just set in a straight line, slightly white from how hard he was pressing them together in barely contained anger. But it was his eyes that shook you down to your core; the normally vibrant shimmering blue orbs which put even the sky to shame as they glistered with a wide range of emotion were completely empty. They were a hollow blue grey shade- a shell of their former self. “ Chuuya what did you do?”

Your question put him in a frenzy, the way you looked at him, as if he was the monster was killing whatever sliver of light that was left in him; “ Don’t think I haven’t seen you Y/N, haven’t seen you cry your eyes out when slimy Dick’s not home cuz he’s fucking another woman.” Chuuya’s hollow eyes stared down at you, his lips pulled up into a sadistic sneer “ or when he forces you to take him whenever or whenever, or pressures you to agree to whatever shit his mind comes up and you’re crying both during and after Y/N. Don’t think I haven’t seen you. Ugly sobbing and all. It’s not right Sweetheart. It isn’t”

You gaped: your mouth opening and closing like a fish, your cheeks dusting a light pink, words stuck in your throat. They were refusing to come out. You didn’t know where to even begin, or how you were going to reason with him.

Chuuya wasn’t finished, however.

He moved closer, his gloved hand slowly inching towards you. “ But I’d never disrespect you like that sweetheart, never force you or hurt you. I’d never abandon you- you know that the bastard pretty much gave you away to me? ”

“ Dazai would never” you glared darkly at him. As his fingers grazed your cheek you flinched and turned away putting distance between you. The action made Chuuya sigh heavily and move back, running that hand through his hair. He looked bitter.

“ You think? The mackerel served you up to me in his attire with an added comment ‘you can have my left overs.’ slimy bandages. And you still think he cares for you?” He was shaking as he stared down at you. Chuuya took a deep breath before his voice took on a sad, heartbroken tone.” While I’ve always been here, waiting and waiting ready to sweep you off your feet and yet you’re eyes were only on him”

“ Dazai isn’t- he wouldn’t.”

“ Dazai this, Dazai that. Even now when we both know he’s already balls deep in another woman! And you’re still relying on him hah-!” Chuuya shook his head before something seemed to change in him, the contained anger spilling into something dark and full of malice- “- You think I’m smaller than him, is that it?! That somehow that womanizing bastard is better in bed? That only he can satisfy you ehh? Is that why?” Chuuya yelled, his hands landing away from his hair, dangerously close to his belt.

At that moment, for the first time that night, you realized that you were in danger. Real actual danger. This wasn't Chuuya, the sweet hot-tempered ginger man whom you’d share stories and dirty jokes with over a glass of wine. This was a man with slipping sanity capable of anything. His eyes alone were an atonement to that. Those hollow blue orbs told you that if you didn’t think fast enough you’d learn on your own skin- your own pussy- how far he was willing to go to have you.

You moved, launching forward as far as the chain would let you and pressed both hands on top of his larger ones, trying to get him to leave his belt alone. “ No not at all, I must be still a bit hazy after the drug. I didn't mean to upset you.”

He didn’t react, his fingers finishing pulling the edge of the belt out of the first loop and starting to fiddle with the clasp.

You tightened your hold on his arm. Your heart beating loudly in your ears. You thought you were going to throw up. Maybe you should- maybe it would disgust him enough to make him stop. No, a little voice in your head told you. All that could do was enrage him more. And that would end up making it worse on yourself.

“ I’m definitely still not clear in the head, so lets talk some more later please Chuuya, please stop” You called to him, leaning more of your weight onto him. That didn’t stop him, if anything it made you more aware of the growing tension in his pants.

Fuck.

You needed a plan- a way out and you needed it now. However each plea and logical call fell on deaf ears and you were in no condition to fight him. Ability or not he’d overpower you in seconds. You were running out of options and this was your last card to keep yourself safe;

You forced your mind to think of each embarrassing and humiliating memory until your cheeks glowed a dark red. Then you tilted your head down, faking a shy appearance.“ but you wouldn’t want our first time together like this, right? All dry and then bloody. And me passing out and missing out on the fun mid-way through, right?” You felt his movements grow less erratic and continued; “ So would you let me rest a few hours more, clear my head a bit, please? Please Chuu'' you pleaded

You glanced up at him, staring up with big pleading eyes. You saw the newly made nickname stir something in those hollow orbs. Like a spark of life glimpsing through insanity.

“ Please Chuu” you pleaded again, continuing to stare at him, praying that this was enough. A moment passed, two, three before he let his hands drop away from his pants.

You bit your tongue to stop yourself from flinching as he raised a hand and rested it on the back of your head, then he leaned forward pressing a long kiss on your forehead. “ You’re right, I’m sorry, Sweetheart, it was so selfish of me. You need your rest. And I need to get you something comfortable to wear- slimy mackerel clothing really does not suit you.” With those words he turned around as if nothing happened and grabbed the hat and jacket from the back of the chair.

He paused in the doorway long enough to wish you sweet dreams and tell you not to eat what he brought earlier, and that he’ll be back later with some fresh food and water for when you’ve had your rest. Then he left. As the door clasped shut you heard the automatic lock kick in, shutting you in place. Then two more additional ones; a chain and a key.

Slumping back into the bed you curled your knees up to your chest and wrapped your arms tightly around them. Tears were running down your cheeks in steady unpretty streams.

You bought yourself a few hours tops but what were you supposed to do then?

#chuuya nakahara #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #bsd chuuya #bsd dazai #dazai x you #dazai x reader #sweetober #chuuya yandere #yandere #obssessive #abduction

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thenightfolknetwork · 11 months ago

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Im a nypmh. A forest nymph specifically. My days are spent dancing and singing and existing in the forest I was born to. Its great really. My forest is even protected so I dont need to worry about any sapios coming in an bothering me!

But Im also trans. Im a guy. But nymphs are supposed to be feminine and Im. Not. Ive already felt myself loosing connection with this forest as I begun transitioning. Im scared that if I fully transition, Ill lose it entirely. Can that happen? Or is the forest just disappointed in me?

Should I stop my transition? Ive tried to communicate with the forest but she wont respond to me when I bring it up. Im just not sure what to do

I'm sorry your forest seems to be struggling with your transition, reader. However, I think there is plenty of reason to stay optimistic here. You know as well as anyone that, if a powerful nature spirit really doesn't want you around, you'd know about it. The fact you still have a connection with her means she still wants you to have a connection with her.

You're correct in saying that nymphs tend to be female, but my understanding is that this is a linguistic matter rather than a biological one. The word we use for females of your genus is “nymph”, while males with similar cultural identities tend to be referred to as “satyrs”.

Your feeling of disconnect are very likely more related to how you perceive yourself rather than how the forest is perceiving you. The fact is, you cannot simultaneously think of nymphs as inherently feminine, and of yourself as a nymph, while also respecting and celebrating your own masculine identity.

Your forest can feel that inner conflict. She can see you're no longer comfortable with your identity as a nymph, but doesn't have the tools to help you through that discomfort. All she can do is try to give you space, loosening her hold on you and allowing you the freedom to make your own choices.

So, what are those choices, exactly? For one thing, I certainly don't think stopping your transition is a good idea. Your gender is not defined by your body, and a lack of medical transition won't make you any less male.

It also won't solve the underlying issue – that you, as a man, do not feel able to identify as a nymph. In fact, I suspect it will serve to disconnect you even more from your body and your forest, with the pain of dysphoria acting as a constant reminder of the authentic, masculine self you're trying to hide.

Instead, I recommend either unpacking your gendered assumptions around being a nymph, or embracing a positive, male alternative identity for yourself. Do you feel able to say of yourself, “I am a man and a nymph and these do not contradict each other”? Or would you be more comfortable identifying as a satyr or some other identity that feels more affirming?

There isn't a right answer here. You need to find something that works for you. But you do need to make that decision, and try to heal this conflict inside you.

As you do, I feel certain your connection with your forest will bloom anew – different than it was, perhaps, but also more authentic, connecting not with a mere idea or aspiration, but with the man you truly are.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]

#answered #the nightfolk network #monstrous agonies

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monvenusblg · 11 months ago

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A new beauty routine I’ve recently invested in is getting my nails done at a salon.

I haven’t seen a lot of people discuss the esoteric significance of doing your nails more intentionally. Onychomancy is a divination tool that explains how a person’s nails signify energies that one intends to attract more of in their life. Essentially, the shape, health condition of a person’s nails as well as how it’s colored and/or designed carries messages from each person’s psyche and divine source(s). Once i’ve learned of this magick, doing my nails have helped me to become more aware of the energies that i need to embody more and which for me to release.

I thought it’ll be cool to analyze the inspiration behind my new set and discover what it is that i’m trying to manifest with them. 🎀🤍

This is what my new set looks like !

At first glance it’s pretty apparent that i’m going for a wintery snow vibe overall. Perfect for the colder January - early February days. Aesthetically, i was most inspired by:

clean, crisp, winter days when the branches turn to icicles.

The look of glaciers and ice during sunny mornings which in some shade turns everything white to a gorgeous translucent blue.

The waif-like elegance of figure skaters. Especially, the way a body could be disciplined to move, bend, and twirl on harsh and frozen surface.

The icy and delicate femininity of an “ice princess” appearance.

The catch however, is in my choice of coffin tips which is where onychomancy reveals the true inspiration and intention behind it.

🧊Grace Kelly in Rear Window (1954)

“She’s not cold. She’s a volcano covered in snow”

This quote from Alfred Hitchcock summed up the energetic essence of my nails. When Hitchcock was asked about his distinctly cool, blonde female leads, he disagreed with the consensus that she was merely icy and sterile or submissive. Instead, underneath the cool mask burns simmering passion and emotional complexity. Despite the calming or icy effect of the designs (depending on how you perceive them), coffin shaped nails according to onychomancy, corresponds to fire. I’m personally aiming to activate my tropical chart’s water houses 4,8, and 12, aka houses of things hidden and the subconscious. These houses in my chart are ruled by the fire signs (Aries, Leo, Sagittarius).

This set is less about manifesting an outcome and more focused on embodying a persona. In the book Hitchcock/Truffaut, Grace Kelly recurring presence on his films was described as a paradox between the inner fire and the cold surface: “she is sensitive, disciplined, and very sexy”. Such duality makes Grace and other women sharing similar roles on screen a compelling and mysterious force of art.

🪞Kim Novak in Vertigo (1958)

So my current nails shows rather than tells about the wearer. In a book of Onychomancy, it states how glass tips are like windows. A purely transparent set express full candor yet if it is embellished, the wearer may enjoy a bit of poetic license in its revelation. This is for someone who says “please look. but don’t touch”. I like how the book also states the support glass tips provide for setting boundaries and discernment which is something i’m trying to incorporate in the otherwise explosive self-expression of my inner truth. When I do express my emotions outward, I’m reminded that not everyone deserves to know this side of me. Color wise, my set can be placed in the light blue category. Based on color psychology this shade of blue symbolise patience, peace, and calmness. I view this color as Saturnian in nature. Because boundaries + coolness vibrates with Saturn.

A person whose fire elements is in her hidden houses posess a lot of passion and energy within a calm surface. There’s a tendency to hide this side of myself out of shame. I was made to feel that this authentic side of me was too much even frightening, thus not meant to be seen. I think my set wants me to feel safe expressing more of my fiery creative side by being assured that I’ll naturally remain “cool-headed” while doing so. I’m encourage by the intensity of my emotions and expressing my passions unapologetically without the fear of losing my mind. The addition of a 3D snowflake heart on my mars fingers (thumbnails) represents heart-centered willpower. Even if she’s a little cold, she’s not without life.

I find the women of Hitchcock thrillers act as invitations to explore the hidden inhibitions of his protagonist. If they aren’t capable of maintaining a healthy sense of mind, they’d lost it in the pursuit of her mysterious secret inner world. I think her independence, range, poise, and determination is something I like to embody more of recently💋.

*I don’t claim invention or expertise of onychomancy. For more depth on the subject you can check @/occult nails and @/taibunnii on Twitter.

*Ki Lunula books such as : “The Ancient Art of Onychomancy” and/or “Explorations in Onychomancy”are great sources of knowledge on this subject.

#onychomancy #nail art #witchblr #astrology observations

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northwest-cryptid · 7 months ago

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I think one of the big reasons I identify with gender queer more than say "gender fluid" or "non-binary" exclusively is because I don't know which of the two best defines what I experience.

The truth of the matter is that while most trans people I know have some kind of hatred towards their body/past identity, I do not.

I don't see that man in the mirror and go "that's not me, I must kill this man and release myself from my flesh prison!" Rather I see myself in the mirror and undeniably feel like that is me, some days it's a good feeling, other days it's not. I originally attributed this to gender fluidity the idea that some days I felt more comfortable as a man than others.

This made sense to me because if I looked at myself and felt my more masculine features were off putting, typically I would shave or in some way get rid of or hide those features and it made me feel better. However the problem with that was that while sure sometime this feeling wouldn't revert for weeks, other times I'd wake up the next day and hate the way I looked simply because I lacked the more masculine features I had come to find made me comfortable to begin with.

I thought maybe I was just "more" gender fluid than others, maybe I "switched" more often; this lead me to believe that maybe I didn't fit the binary, I was something in between the two. However that's also not entirely true, because while yes I don't always feel comfort in my masculinity or femininity seeking something else entirely or rather to be rid of them both; I also DO find comfort in them from time to time.

I'm a fervent believer that gender neutral/non-binary is not the same as androgynous though I do understand why those who identify as such may find comfort in it.

I noticed quickly upon coming out as NB/Gender Fluid that even close friends still referred to me with he/him more often than not, and I conceded myself to "being okay with it" because I realized that if even my close friends couldn't see me as anything else, the world around me surely couldn't either. Especially when my close friends have no issue correctly gendering others no matter what pronouns they happen to use. This isn't meant to point a finger or assign blame, it's merely to say I assume my masculinity is too strong for me to be seen as anything other than a man.

I had considered getting on estrogen to possibly become more androgynous but I fear I'd be doing it for the sake of getting others to respect me, what if I become something I don't associate with in the mirror, what if I hate what I become; and what if people still don't view me differently for it?

I'm comfortable in my skin, at least for now. I see the man in the mirror and recognize them as myself, and that's nice to me; sometimes I wish to see something I could more easily identify as a woman but I more often than not do not feel any dysphoria towards myself from myself; rather it comes from feeling like those who do respect my pronouns are forcing themselves to, and those who don't are merely being honest with me about what they see.

Sometimes I wish I weren't so complicated, I often wish I was simply just "trans" male to female simple as that, maybe then it would be easier. Easier to gauge my "success" in transition, easier to respect my pronouns, maybe I'd be more believable, maybe I'd be seen differently.

Unfortunately that's just not who I am. I often don't make a big deal of it, because I fear people would consider me a hassle to deal with if I did. If I cared too much about something like my identity, then I fear people would leave me. Sure I understand, you might say "if someone doesn't respect your identity, would it be so awful if they left you?" Yes, it would. These are my friends, and they're all I have. I know that may be hard to understand, but all of my friends have other friend groups; I do not have a Group B so to speak, I have tried, time and time again; to make friends. It never works, I'm not good at socializing, it's very difficult for me to make friends, I don't know how to talk to people.

Sometimes I come across as distant, other times I come across far too overbearing, it's never intentional. The fact of the matter is the people who I am friends with understand me on a certain level, we're comfortable around each other and I do have a lot of love for them. They mean a lot to me, and to lose them over something "as minor as my gender" would probably push me to a sort of depression I don't want to ever return to. That being said I do often wonder if I will ever truly be okay with my identity, if I'll ever really feel comfortable, or feel like myself.

Because I fear that even those closest to me will never see me as I wish to be seen; and it feels forced when they say they do, because so many others don't see it, and I just feel like they're the ones being real with me.

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azul41 · 2 years ago

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I saw a tik tok video about nadya okamoto advocate to not have companies not say feminine products for menstruation products like tampons and pads etc. I totally understand the purpose of doing that as a FTM person myself. But how she went about it in her tik tok video made it seem cringy and preachy. She is a cisgender female that was trying to advocate for the trans FTM community that didnt seem realistically applicable. Her whole approach is about that people should not be shamed about menstruation because it been stigmatized for ages and lets be period positive. I am not saying this applies to all FTM but most trans FTM would try to hide their period for their safety rather than being embarrassed about it. Periods can out FTM or gnc people with utereus because it can expose them to people who are dangerous and uncomfortable about the mere existence of transgender people. Not comforming to societal standards of gender can/will put people in danger. Periods can be a source a huge dysphoria for FTM who sees it as a reminder of what cannot be full realized as their gender identity. FTM has to use stalls to the bathroom and having a dirty tampon or pad in the bathroom trash can mean possible endangerment of being exposed as a "fake." I mean is that periods can be trigger for distressing gender dysphoria. So Nadya being a CEO of August tampons, she is has to sell her products to make her company grow and money at the end of the day. Even if she doesn't realize it, she is making money off of selling menstruation products and advertising to relate to FTM or gender non-conforming folks with uteruses. It is still a company after all that needs to make money at the end of the day. Her being a CEO doesnt make it any better that she is making money off of advertising tampon products and she inadvertently wants the FTM or gnc community to buy her products and advertise her products. To be publicly showing off and to be proud or ones period to promote her brand. She makes video about educating people about changing the term "feminine products" to menstruation products, without giving context or explanation of how that term can affect trans people in real detail. Tik tok videos are short and people still question the existence of trans people but she could have explained what specific demographic of people who would benefit from this term change. She just says that term is outdated and not every menstruation products apply to girls all the time. Beyond that there isn't the who, what or reason why. I could say another conversation of why i think Nadya is weird but idk why. This issue is deeply personal to me and I just feel like cis people trying to cover trans topics is like a white person lecturing in asian american studies. It just doesnt work. She coulda uplifted trans people voices in her video by having a trans people talk about it in her account and using her platform but whatever. Its her account and i think it really needs nuance from trans people to explain this topic more. At the end of the day I still feel uncomfortable about her making video about it with the association that she has a product to sell and i wanna seem cool to FTM or gnc to buy my product vibe. There were comments on that video of FTM being empowered by Nadya taking about this term change and good on them for feeling like they can be proud of who they are but this topic is layer and it is not safe for other people in the FTM and gnc community.

#nadyaokamoto #augusttampons

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aidanchaser · 1 year ago

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Boulangérella: A Miraculous Fairy Tale AU - Chapter 3

Table of Contents Read on Ao3

beta’d by @7wizardsshallanswerthecall, @mothmanhamlet, @ccboomer and @aubsenroute

Chapter Three Monsieur Pigeon

Ladybug was not entirely sure how she and Chat Noir would be able to successfully free Monsieur Ramier from Hawk Moth’s control. When Monsieur Ramier had been transformed by Hawk Moth in the past, he was given the power to control pigeons. Tonight, however, Hawk Moth had granted him an ability to get revenge on those teenagers who had harassed his pigeons by transforming them into the very pigeons they had come for. Now no one in the city was safe; merely the brush of a cursed pigeon’s wing would transform them into another bird in Monsieur Pigeon’s flock.

Ladybug and Chat Noir ducked behind a chimney and pressed themselves flat against the wall, hoping to hide from Monsieur Ramier—or, rather, they ought to call him Monsieur Pigeon while Hawk Moth had control of him.

“My lady—” Chat Noir pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger. In a nasally whisper, he continued, “I think he’s got us pinioned down.”

She ignored the terrible pun. This was hardly the time. “This power of his is new…” She tried not to sound too doubtful as she unclipped her magical bandalore from her waist, but she couldn’t see a solution yet. “How can we possibly get close enough to find the cursed object?”

“I can distract him,” Chat Noir suggested. “My sneezes will make it easy for him to find me, and you can find the object Hawk Moth has cursed.”

“He doesn’t need to find us. Any of his pigeons can touch us and that’s it…”

“Hawk Moth won’t want our miraculous gifts to transform with us,” Chat Noir pointed out. “Maybe we can use that to our advantage—”

He stopped as a flash of orange on a nearby rooftop caught his eye. It stood out strangely in the dark night, especially when most of the movement in the sky was made of gray and black pigeon feathers. But before he could mention it to Ladybug, Chat Noir sneezed.

A nearby pigeon called in response, and Ladybug and Chat Noir ran. He pulled Ladybug in the direction of the orange blur, unsure where else they ought to go. He hoped that, just maybe, it was a stroke of luck, the sort that Ladybug could turn into a victory.

Ladybug and Chat Noir slid over a roof top and down to the street level, just in time to see something orange and white slip into one of the many tunnels that ran under the city. Underground certainly seemed safer than the skies, so they both followed.

Chat Noir dropped down beside her and rubbed his nose. “It might smell down here,” he said, “but it’s easier to breathe than among all those feathers.”

“What was that orange… thing?” she asked.

Chat Noir glanced around, but he saw no sign of the orange blur that had led them here. “I hope it’s help.”

Ladybug cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hello?” she called, and her voice echoed down the tunnel walls. She hoped that the birds would not have bothered to explore the tight, underground maze that ran beneath the city. Of course, they would eventually get to her and Chat Noir, but she should have enough time to make a plan.

“Ladybug?” a soft, feminine voice called back. “Is that really you?”

“Who’s asking?” Chat Noir’s voice echoed in the tunnel. He leaned casually against his baton, but his senses were fully alert. His ears twitched with the magic that pulsed through his veins and his green, cat-like eyes shimmered in the dim light of the underground sewers as they searched for movement.

A girl stepped out from an alcove, and Chat Noir’s shoulders twitched with the urge to pounce. She had long, dark hair with a reddish tint to it. In the front, her hair had been pulled into two red tails with white tips, reminiscent of a fox. She wore white trousers tucked into black boots, and a bright, orange sash wrapped around her waist and trailed off into a sort of tail, white-tipped like her hair. She wore a tight orange bodice edged with black lace and black gloves that ran the length of her arms. Her shoulders and neck were bare, decked only in a gold chain from which hung a curved orange pendant. A pair of tall orange ears sat on her head, not unlike Chat Noir’s own leather cat ears, and her face was covered by a mask in the shape of a fox’s head.

The part of her that drew Chat Noir’s attention, however, was the large bamboo stick in her hand. He kept his brilliant green eyes trained on it, waiting for her to lift it into an attack position.

“Ladybug, I was so hoping I would find you,” the girl said effusively. “Those pigeons—they attacked my family.”

“I think we’re safe here for the moment,” Ladybug said, but Chat Noir was still hesitant to relax his guard.

“How did you get away from the pigeons?” he asked.

The girl touched the pendant at her neck. “This is the gift of illusion. I was able to hide myself. It did not last for long, though…”

“You’re all right now,” Ladybug promised. She held out her hand to the girl. “We’ll help you, and we’ll save your family.”

“Thank you! I know if anyone can help, you can, Ladybug.” She took Ladybug’s hand and squeezed it.

Chat Noir eyed Ladybug and decided he ought to trust her judgment. They were a partnership, but they were not exactly equals. She was the captain and he was more like her first mate who supported her decisions. If she thought they ought to help this girl, he would go along with her plan.

He re-clipped his baton to his belt and gave their new friend a dramatic, sweeping bow. “It’s a pleasure to make your cat-quaintance.”

Ladybug and this new friend were equally unimpressed with his chivalry and humor.

“You said you had the magic of illusion?” Ladybug asked, as if Chat Noir had done no more than clear his throat.

The girl nodded.

Ladybug smiled. “Illusion just might be the distraction we need without risking turning Chat Noir into a pigeon.”

Ladybug tossed her bandalore into the air and called for her Lucky Charm. There was a bright rose-colored light from her bandalore. Her spots flashed and the magic of creation flowed from the bandalore until it had finished constructing the lucky item that she needed. The object that fell out of the light and into her hands was warm and buzzed with magic. She examined the curved reed, red and decked in black spots like her dress. She pursed her lips, unsure exactly what she needed to do with it.

“Do you think you're supposed to hit Monsieur Pigeon with it?” Chat Noir asked.

Ladybug glanced over at their new friend and the bamboo reed in her hand. “Can you make both sound and images with your gift?”

The girl nodded, and Ladybug laid out their plan.

Chat Noir didn’t like it, but Ladybug was in charge, and so he did as Ladybug asked. He stood on the fifth bridge from the palace and stared at the dark water below. It looked cold. At least his allergies would probably be unaffected while he was in the water.

With a sigh, Chat Noir put the hooked end of the reed in his mouth and jumped into the river.

He could not see well in the water, but the dark itself was not much of a problem for him. The city was well-lit at night, which left her alleyways and the depths of her river dim to the average person, but for Chat Noir it was easy for his cat-like eyes to adjust. He stayed below the surface, careful to keep the top of the reed above the water so that he could breathe, and waited for Ladybug’s signal.

It was not long before he saw what he was waiting for. Ladybug and Chat Noir approached the river bank, pursued by a flock of dark pigeons, whose wings reflected iridescent purple in the city’s many lights.

The illusions of Ladybug and Chat Noir hesitated at the water’s edge, apparently cornered. Monsieur Pigeon, in his dark pink and purple suit approached.

“Which will it be?” the man asked with dark glee in his voice. “Join my pigeon army or hand over your miraculous gifts?”

Chat Noir watched Monsieur Pigeon closely in search of the object Hawk Moth had infected in order to amplify Monsieur Ramier’s anger. In the past, it had been Monsieur Ramier’s pigeon call whistle, but Ladybug had warned Chat Noir to be careful and sure before he made his move. They would not get two attempts with Ladybug’s magic of creation, nor Chat Noir��s magic of destruction.

Monsieur Pigeon lifted the whistle to his lips. It was as black as ink, and Chat Noir was certain that he was using it to control the monstrous pigeons. It must be the object they needed. Around the reed in his mouth, Chat Noir muttered, “Cataclysm.”

His ring burned and dark energy gathered in his palm. It may not have hurt, but it required a lot of focus to hold onto.

The first time Chat Noir had summoned his power, he had hastily grabbed a lamp post to keep from losing control and shattering a building; the lamp post had crumbled to dust beneath his hand. After that first night testing his new powers, his fay had warned him that the stronger his emotions, the stronger his Cataclysm would be. In those early days of grieving his mother, it had been almost impossible for him to use it effectively.

But he had learned to control it, and the freedom of being Chat Noir combined with working alongside Ladybug had given him hope in a future again. His Cataclysm had become manageable from not only use and practice, but thanks to a quelling of his grief.

Now, it was a tool he could manage as easily as Ladybug used her Lucky Charm. It cracked and popped in his hand, eager to destroy the first thing it touched, but he held back and waited. He watched as the illusions of Ladybug and Chat Noir removed their illusory miraculous gifts and dropped them into the river.

Chat Noir’s mouth quirked into a small smile. Their new friend had no idea what he and Ladybug looked like underneath their masks, and he thought the tall, plain looking man that took Chat Noir’s place an odd choice. Whoever that man was, though, Chat Noir figured his life was probably easier than Chat Noir’s true identity.

Monsieur Pigeon, as Ladybug had predicted, dove into the river after the miraculous gifts. Chat Noir made his move.

He shot forward in the water and grabbed the whistle out of Monsieur Pigeon’s hand. It crumbled to dust in his grasp. Like ink dripping off of a quill, the suit Monsieur Pigeon had been wearing fell away, and Monsieur Ramier reappeared. He swam up to the surface hastily for air. Chat Noir did the same, careful not to lose sight of the dark iridescent butterfly that flitted through the water.

As Chat Noir broke the surface, Ladybug extended a hand to help him up. Chat Noir reached for her hand and was shocked as his hand passed through hers. Ladybug vanished, and nearby, their new fox-like friend laughed.

Chat Noir climbed out of the river and turned to help Monsieur Ramier. “Ladybug?” he called, annoyed with both himself and their new friend. Carefully, he shook the water from his arms. He hated the way it clung to him. It made him feel sticky, unable to slip easily and invisibly through the night.

Ladybug—the real Ladybug—hurried across the bridge. The large pigeons that had surrounded the illusions returned to their normal size and color, and Ladybug no longer had to avoid them as she chased down the dark butterfly that was struggling to fly away with wings weighed down by water. She unleashed her bandalore on it. The circular clay on the end of the string slid open and captured the butterfly within it. There was a flash of white light as the butterfly was sealed inside, and the bandalore returned to Ladybug’s hand.

Once she had whispered the incantation to purify the cursed creature, Ladybug opened her bandalore and released the butterfly. The butterfly, now as white as snow, flitted off into the night. Ladybug wished it well on its journey, as she always did. And as he watched, Chat Noir’s heart fluttered as it always did; he loved her for her confidence, determination and intelligence, but her kindness, more than anything else, left him full of adoration. His love never waned, no matter how many times he watched her wish a future of hope onto a creature that had been turned into an agent of destruction.

Their new fox-like friend stepped out of the shadows beside Chat Noir and watched as Ladybug threw her bandalore into the air and her Lucky Charm undid all the damage to the city and its citizens that Hawk Moth had wrought through Monsieur Pigeon. There was a sweep of red, flitting ladybugs that swarmed the pigeons, the streets, and then hurried down the alley, finishing their work throughout the city.

All was as it had been when Ladybug and Chat Noir had first transformed and slipped off into the night, except for the whistle. Ladybug’s magic was powerful, but the object that Hawk Moth infected with his curse remained damaged in whatever way Ladybug and Chat Noir chose to free the curse. It was the one thing Ladybug did not have the magic to fix.

But Monsieur Ramier had grown quite used to replacing his pigeon call whistles in the past year.

“Are you all right, Monsieur Ramier?” Ladybug asked.

Monsieur Ramier wrung out his dripping cap. “Did it happen again, Ladybug?”

“I’m afraid so,” she smiled. “But everything’s been set right.”

“I am so sorry,” he said. “But thank you for saving me. I know I can count on you each time.”

“Of course you can,” Ladybug promised. “And Chat Noir and our new friend, of course.” She gestured to Chat Noir and the girl in orange.

The girl in orange grinned and rested her flute-like reed over her shoulder. “You can call me Volpina,” she said.

“You have my gratitude,” Monsieur Ramier said with a bow.

Chat Noir wrinkled his nose in an attempt to stall a sneeze, but he was unable to stop himself. The group of pigeons lifted into the air in surprise, then followed Monsieur Ramier along the river’s edge, back towards his home.

“We really couldn’t have done this without you, Volpina,” Ladybug said, and held out her hand to the girl in orange. “I hope we’ll have your help in the future.”

Volpina took Ladybug’s hand and even managed a small curtsy. “Any time, Ladybug. I think I’ll be in the city for a while longer.”

“You’re not from here?” Chat Noir asked curiously.

Volpina’s mouth twitched into a crooked smile. “I thought you heroes liked secret identities.”

“We do,” Ladybug said quickly, “but it is surprising that you just showed up suddenly.”

The smile on Volpina’s face faded. Though her eyes were hidden behind an orange and black mask, complete with the snout of a fox, she looked sad. “My grandmother passed away recently. This pendant was hers. I didn’t know it was a miraculous gift until I put it on. I was afraid to use it, unsure that I could uphold the legacy she left behind, but when my family was hurt in Monsieur Pigeon’s attack, I called upon the power of illusion to escape and find you.”

All of Chat Noir’s wariness melted away in an instant. He knew grief. It cloaked him as thoroughly as the masks he put on for each of his identities.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” he said. “You were a great help today.”

The green emeralds on his ring flickered and the magic in one of the stones of the cat’s paw dimmed.

Volpina eyed it curiously, then said, “I think I need to take my leave.”

“Of course,” Ladybug said.

And as Volpina disappeared into the night, Ladybug’s earrings flickered.

“We ought to go too, chaton,” she said with a smile.

But he was loathe to leave his lady after their time together had been so brief. He looked down at the five glowing green emeralds set into his ring. Only one had flickered out. “I have a bit longer.”

Ladybug shook her head, but she was smiling. “It’s a good thing we met Volpina tonight.”

“Oh?” He quirked an eyebrow.

Her smile faded ever so slightly. “Well… I might not be around very much over the next month. It’ll be good to know there’s someone else here to help the city.”

Chat Noir’s heart sank. But he swallowed down his own hurt and focused on her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, but Chat Noir did not believe her. Ladybug was many things, but chiefly she was a hero, and a hero did not show her weak spots, not even to her partner.

“It’s just…” She struggled to find the words then finally managed, “In my other identity, I’m about to be very busy. I have a lot of people that I’m responsible to, and they’re all going to need my attention. I’ll still be around, and if Hawk Moth attacks I’ll be there, but these nights where we patrol… I don’t know how many of those we’ll have for a while.”

“Oh,” he said. He did not know how to put words to his heartbreak. Nights with Ladybug were the best part of his life. He wasn’t sure what he would do without them, and he wasn’t sure how to tell her about his own looming deadline.

Her earrings flickered again. Another emerald on his ring went out.

“Promise me something?” she asked.

“Anything,” he said readily.

“Try not to steal anything, please? I don’t want to come after you because Audrey Bourgeois can’t find her pearls.”

Chat Noir flicked at the silver bell that rested at his collar. It jingled softly. “I wear this bell for you,” he grinned. “Can’t get past any hunting dogs with this on.”

It was not entirely true. Chat Noir was good at sneaking around even with the bell around his neck, but it symbolized his loyalty to Ladybug more than anything. It had become an addition to his outfit only after he had fallen for her.

It had not taken him long. The very same night that she had first dragged him from the Bourgeois's manor only to send him right back in to return the rings he had taken, one of Hawk Moth’s monsters had attacked.

Chat Noir had readily run to help, and though he would never know it, it was his confidence that had encouraged Ladybug to join him. She might never have dared to use her magic to face the monster if he had never asked her to help protect the city.

Together, they had learned that they could defeat the monsters in a way that the castle’s soldiers could not, and that the gifts they bore from the Forest of Fay were gifts that could be used not simply for their own benefit, but to help and protect the kingdom. And, more than that, Ladybug could undo in a moment whatever damage had been wrought by Hawk Moth’s attack.

It was during that first fight that Ladybug had learned that Chat Noir was a better friend than he was thief, and it was during that first fight that Chat Noir had fallen in love.

So he had worn a bell, ever since that first fight. A faux-deterrent from stealing, because his lady had asked him to.

“Thank you, chaton,” she said, and smiled.

Chat Noir cherished her smiles as much as he cherished her laughter, but he could not bring himself to match her smile.

“I also have some bad news,” he said. The third emerald on his ring flickered out as her earrings flashed.

Ladybug’s smile faded and she tipped her head. “What’s wrong?”

He liked that she had echoed his question. He wished that he could, like she had, assure her that it was nothing.

“After this month, I don’t know that I’ll still be around.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I have one more month before… well, before I assume some new responsibilities in my other life. I think they’ll make it harder to spend my evenings with you, Ladybug.”

It was not often that Chat Noir used her name properly. Ladybug knew that he was being serious, and not just trying to tease her or make her feel guilty for leaving him alone for a month.

She wanted to press him for details, but it would not be appropriate. She was the one who had set the boundaries between their daily lives and their lives as heroes, and it had been for a good reason. She was protecting him and his loved ones as much as she was protecting herself.

“Are you… sure?” she asked, unsure herself what she ought to say.

“I wish I wasn’t.”

It struck them both that from now on, then, any moment might be their last night together. And though it broke Ladybug’s heart to know there was a chance she might lose her best friend for good, she said, “You should go.”

The fourth emerald on his ring flickered out, and her earrings flashed.

“What if I didn’t?” he asked.

“Chaton…”

“Just kidding, of course.” But he had not been kidding, and he and Ladybug both knew it.

She kissed his cheek, then said, “This isn’t good-bye yet.”

“Not yet,” he agreed, and disappeared the way Volpina had gone, but whoever she was, she had already vanished

The final emerald on Chat Noir’s ring flashed and flickered out as Chat Noir murmured, “Plagg, claws in,” and his dark disguise vanished. The black suit fell from him and gathered in his ring, revealing a set of clothing that was just as dark but of much finer and more delicate cloth. The black wisps emerged from his ring and solidified into the form of the tiny black creature he had found in the forest almost a year earlier.

Prince Adrien Agreste leaned against the brick wall that formed half of the alley way and looked up at the sliver of stars visible above the close rooftops while the black cat-like fay dug through a nearby pile of garbage for some discarded cheese. They would need Chat Noir’s disguise to return home, but first the fay creature Plagg would need an offering of cheese to complete their initial bargain before he could give Adrien another turn with the magic of chaos and destruction.

Adrien considered, not for the first time, what might happen if he simply strolled up to the palace gates, and how his father might punish him for sneaking away. On his darker days, Adrien almost dared to do it. What was left for his father to take away from him? He had no control over whom he spoke to nor how he spent his time. Did he even really have control over whom he would marry, or would he just accept whatever his father asked of him? Shy of locking him in a dungeon, there were few ways for his father to restrict his freedoms much further.

But those were only on Adrien’s dark days. He knew that his father only wanted to protect him. He could not imagine how even his aunt might react, knowing the crown prince put himself in the path of danger almost nightly to protect the palace and the city from Hawk Moth’s attacks. He didn’t think she’d be any happier about it than his father. His mother might have understood, though. She’d have been upset, he thought, and worry, but he liked to think that she’d have understood.

“We need to do something about our new fox friend,” Plagg said as he dug through the piles of garbage.

Adrien tore his eyes away from the stars. “What’s wrong with Volpina?” She had helped them, despite his initial suspicions, and her grief had seemed genuine.

“Weren’t you listening?” Plagg disappeared into an old wooden box and re-emerged with a wedge of pungent, mold-covered cheese. “It’s not camembert, but it’s aged alright.”

Adrien wrinkled his nose in disgust as Plagg swallowed the cheese whole. He was not sure how Plagg managed it, considering the wedge itself was about twice Plagg’s size, but the fay creature seemed to stretch around the cheese, then compress back into his fay form.

“What do you mean about Volpina?” Adrien asked, when it was clear that Plagg was too interested in digesting his meal to return the conversation on his own.

“Did you notice how her pendant didn’t flicker with magic after she used her gift? That’s not a normal bargain. That’s a lifetime debt. Those trades don’t come cheap. Sounds like she may have stolen it from her grandmother.”

“Weren’t you listening? Her grandmother died. Surely Volpina just wanted something to remember her grandmother by.”

Plagg, however, was concerned for Trixx, who was his best friend in as far as fay creatures had best friends. Trickery and chaos went hand in hand. But he paused his concern for Trixx and took a moment to gauge the grief in Adrien’s eyes.

Plagg was not a sensitive creature by definition. He was born of chaos and destruction. His power was a curse, meant to inflict harm on others. And even then, it was mostly targeted at those who would hurt Tikki and her bondsman—or bondswoman, as was more often the case.

As a rule, Plagg did not express fondness for his bondsmen—or bondswomen, as it had been on several occasions—but Adrien was an exception. Plagg had observed many things in his year at the palace, but he had observed very little fondness. Adrien deserved a bit of care.

So Plagg shifted into his preferred form, a scrawny black cat, and threaded himself around Adrien’s feet. He nuzzled his whiskers and cheeks against Adrien’s ankles in a rare show of affection. It earned him a small smile from Adrien. It was still a sad smile, but most of Adrien’s smiles were sad. Someday Plagg would get a real smile from this boy. Something absolutely feral. It was what the boy deserved, especially after all he had been through, and especially given what was to come.

Plagg could not see the future—that was a different fay’s gift—but Plagg knew a few things about what went on in the palace that Adrien did not know. He chose to keep them to himself for now. Adrien would find out in time, and hopefully he would be ready to face those secrets when they eventually unraveled, as secrets always did.

Adrien knelt beside Plagg and stroked his spine. “We can’t do much more to investigate Volpina tonight. I suppose we ought to go home.”

Plagg tilted his head. “I bet we could still snag one of those pendants you were thinking about. Ladybug doesn’t have to know.”

The sad smile twitched ever so slightly. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Something smaller then,” Plagg wheedled. “Something that really won’t be missed. Oh, we could stop by that boulangerie! It isn’t far. They’re the only place I’ve seen in this half of the continent that sells those fluffy cheese-filled pastries.”

“I can just order a bunch to be delivered to the palace,” Adrien said, but they both knew it would not be the same. There was something thrilling about slipping in and out of somewhere unseen, of having power and control over one little thing in his life when he was denied that power in so many other places.

When Plagg made no additional argument except to stare up at Adrien with pleading green eyes, the prince sighed. “Plagg, that’s a business, and the shop owners are very kind. I don’t want to steal from them.”

“Take the old stuff. It tastes just as good. We can leave something in exchange. Please,” he drew out his plea with a long whine. “We haven’t stolen anything in over a week, and you just promised Ladybug that we’d be good for another month. Can’t we have one last teeny-tiny hurrah?”

Plagg was Adrien’s closest friend and confidant while simultaneously being Adrien’s worst influence.

“Plagg, claws out,” he whispered, and the black cat at his feet stretched around him, spreading out from his ring, and cloaking him once more in the disguise of Chat Noir.

So when Marinette Dupain-Cheng finally returned home, well after her parents had retreated upstairs to bed, she found that three of their popular deep-fried, cheese-filled pastries were missing, and in place of the pastries, someone had left behind a small bouquet of budding hellebore.

#ml fairy tale au #fairy tale au #ml fic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fanfic #ladynoir

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feral-embrocations · 5 months ago

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Shoot and Interview in i-D - Italy - 2021

Makeup and styling by me, shoot by Gloria Moreno and Kumpaw

"" Whats you're inspiration? Once upon a time there was a young jester, serving the king of highest kingdoms in all northern lands. The old king had accused the jester of attempted poisoning, so the jester was banished from the kingdom for eternity. The jester ran out into the woods, despite the devastating blizzard that ruled the terrain, and it didn't last long until the young gent was now lost in the forest. - and not just any forest- These were the northern forests where wild wolves, grey foxes and packs lynx reigned with carnivorous manners. The jester ought to use his mutability, intellect and creativity to survive. After several years in the company of the sacred critters of dark woodlands, deep swamps and deserted hills, the jester returned to the castle. It was dirtier than any court lady’s worst nightmare, trotting on all fours directly towards the big gate. It left a trail of mud along the endless hallways and finally reached the ballroom.

The king got an utter shock at the sight of the tattered jester, who to the king's surprise, was only wearing frayed bloomers, and a tattered shirt that once was white and rugged hunting tools dangling from a rope belt. The king couldn't hide his rage and demanded the jester to be immediately executed despite his former fondness with the adolescent. The ferocious jester eyes were bright and deep, as he purred with spite against the throne. He had not returned for the mere sake of enshacklement, but rather to warn the emperor that a painful change was about to submerge within the golden walls. It was as if an irreversible bestial essence had infested the jester. It’s fast paws swiftly jumped to hide behind a statue as the princess walked in. She caught only a glimpse of the savage creature, sensing something familiar about him. Twilight was approaching and the jester’s plan was almost complete.

The king’s army followed by a herd of angry villagers had scattered in search of the felon, “Dead or alive” shouted the king. The princess laid in her room, thinking how the jester could seem so different and odd… . At the break of dawn, it sneaked into the princess’ dorm, lurking behind the velour drapes, glimpsing the beautiful princess as she was sleeping. She awoke from the sounds of fumbling across the room and saw two yellow eyes flickering. She was frightened, though curious. She approached it, and the now gentle jester hunched its back and she caressed the brown and humid fur. She remembered how her dreams of escape had faded when the jester was banished a long time ago, but before her next breath, the jester had a tight grip around her waist and splintering glass flew to all sides as it jumped out the castle window. She clenched its warm body, awaiting to accompany the wild jester on ferocious travels through the forest, hunting down sensuous secrets, notorious nests, hazardous holes, deistic discharge, sizzling skin, and leaky landscapes.

How do you identify?

As for many queer people I have been sexualized and objectified to a point where it is hard for me to differ between my own life path and sexuality, and the one that’s expected from me. I find strength when I find the representation that mainstream media won’t allow me to see, that shows me how literally any gender identity and sexuality is so real and valid (recently through alt-/trans- & black-tik tok) and how you can NEVER assume someone’s gender from how they present themselves.

Through identifying myself as nonbinary, I came to realize how I am more nuanced than they thought I was, and that I am the only one who can give myself permission to channel any form of masculinity/femininity/alienlike/childlike/bossy/bimbo/submissive/dominant/animalistic/dirty/scattered/spiritually/wholesome vibe I feel like, at any given moment. It is a lifelong journey to break up with the internalized white capitalist patriarchy, which deems me to choose one path that I should rigidly live up to, instead of seeing myself as a fluid, everchanging energy that grows into new per(/fur-)sonas all the time. - Being able to see people as they want to be seen, requires a willingness to listen and understand, on their terms.

I believe that the binary is a made up construct (also biologically, yes) that EVERYONE suffers from, so in this construct I feel most comfortable identifying as queer, nonbinary, pansexual, polyamourous, switch, bdsm-furry/hunter-lover, who will never limit myself and obey to what society told me is romantic, beautiful, attractive and ambitious. I am a victim of the cistem (as everyone is), therefor I must try my best to unlearn every toxic trait it told me, by loving myself unconditionally and with that comes the shame and guilt of acknowledging that I am capable of being predatory and offensive. Therefore, especially as white queer, it’s mine and our responsibility to find the knowledge we weren’t taught, about consent, boundaries, white supremacy, colonialism, racism, queer history and intersectional feminism. A journey I will encourage everyone to join. I can assure you it’s painful but even more so, freeing, interesting and euphoric.

From Levi <333

(note: I'm wearing an fly whisk in my belt found at the recycle station which I wouldn't wear today, knowing it is used in a number of diferrent cultures that are not mine for ceremonial purposes among other)

#leviathanfurtiliuswritings #leviathanfurtiliusmodel

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casspurrjoybell-27 · 6 months ago

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Moving Forward - Chapter 36

*Warning Adult Content*

Frozen

At Max's side, Kyle was becoming a force to be reckoned with, Max's hold on his fur the only reason he hadn't already leapt onto the porch but it was... so clearly a trap.

********

They'd been watching for a least five minutes, the rain doing its best to drown them and the cherry scent was strongest here... but there was no sign of anyone being here.

No brainwashed wolves guarding the area, nor any movement inside the house.

A laugh carried on the wind.

High and feminine, the familiarity of it had Max's teeth grinding.

The rumble of a growl vibrated through Max's tight fist but no real sound escaped Kyle.

Lara's laugh was only a harbinger, timed perfectly to set them on edge.

There was no clear source, it came from no direction.

In front and behind, both loud and faint, it sounded as if it came straight out of a horror film.

So she could do more than just make scentless zombies.

Good to know, but Max would've preferred to have the info earlier.

They should just go, just back out and recover.

Do some recon, get more on their enemies other than the fact that one had some kind of magic ability on some unknown scale and the other was the boss.

God, what a shit-show but Kyle wouldn't, he'd never allow Finn to be their hostage without good cause and according to Kyle, no cause was good enough to leave him behind and Max agreed.

He did but he was also selfish.

Kyle leaving Max here to get Finn back was the best option but that wouldn't happen either.

"Kyle..." he started but was cut off by another bout of laughter.

*********

"Thinking of running Maxie?" Lara voice was taunting.

"You know the odds aren't good. What? You'd rather get your mate to safety than his little brother? What kind of monster are you?"

Max scoffed.

Sure, she knew him but Kyle knew better.

Sowing dissent wouldn't work with them.

Kyle's gold eyes met his and Max could tell that he didn't believe one word coming out of her mouth.

That was enough for Max.

They were getting nowhere hiding in the bushes.

Un-holstering his Glock, he swept the area and crept forward, Kyle crouched and following behind.

What an odd pair they probably made.

When the guns came out, Max was usually the one shifted.

Reversing the roles had a weird effect.

Like sitting in the chair to the left the one he'd been assigned, unsettling... another tilt.

********

The PTSD was setting in with a force that had Max wondering if Kyle had always been a part of his team.

He gave hand signals, letting Kyle know that the enemy hadn't yet been spotted before he remembered that Kyle had never been taught them.

Lara giggled, ominous and clear.

The porch door was open.

No sign of forced entry other than the wicker chairs being strewn about the garden.

Inside was a different story.

Blankets were piled in the corners.

Furniture shoved aside.

Even the fluffy rug had been flung behind the breakfast bar.

Max felt himself tense up at the mess they had made, that he'd no doubt be required to clean up.

Wolves blocked every entrance, any angle of escape covered and there, in the middle of the chaos, was Lara.

Surprise streaked through Max at the sight of Gillespie, though he shouldn't have been.

"Gun down, please," Gillespie said, tone annoyingly cordial but as chilled as it was the last time Max had heard him speak.

Max kept his gun pointed at the man's chest.

"Fine," Gillespie merely waved a hand.

Finn appeared in Lara's arms, tears streaming down his face and chest heaving with sobs.

"Kyle," he screamed, kicking Lara in the shin to break out in a run.

He almost succeeded, almost ploughed right into Kyle's dense fur but between one blink and another, he was back in Lara's grasp, her face... sad.

"Max... put the gun down," her gaze seemed to bore a hole in him.

Max holstered it.

"Lara."

"Now now, I'm the orchestrator of all this," Gillespie drew their attention back to him.

"And I've got demands."

Kyle growled.

"See? This is why it should've been you in human form. At least then we could negotiate. As is, you either agree or you die," Gillespie's smile was gleaming, pure white with sharp pointed teeth, Max's were bigger.

"You're going ta renounce the title of Alpha and bequeath it to me," he shrugged.

"The Evergreen Rivers pack is mine."

The same shade of sun-kissed blonde, pretty blue eyes and the light brow with the Roman nose, delicate on Lara but proud on Gillespie.

"You really are related," Max muttered.

"You know what happens," she smiled but it was angry,

"When a witch and a wolf make a baby? You get one or the other. It's all hereditary and when Gillespie's father died, he came ta us."

"It's a shame he's a dud," Max said, knowing that Gillespie wouldn't like it.

"I reckon we could do with a pause, Lara."

"Coming right up," she lilted and just like that... the world froze.

********

Kyle's paws no longer padded in restless anger.

Finn's chest was suspended in a broken hiccup and Max... was fine.

Stepping away from the frightened child, Lara was grinning.

"You see my power?"

Tilting... Tilting... Tilting.

She was talking but all Max could hear was gunfire.

Pinned down by the enemy, unable to do anything.

Trapped behind enemy lines with no one coming to save them.

The men beside him frozen in fear.

It was nothing like this situation but the moments merged as if they were the same.

It didn't make sense, the forced stillness here to the overwhelming chaos there but it might well have been.

He wasn't there... Max wasn't back in Afghanistan.

Body flushing, hot and cold, he wondered if he should've been listening but he couldn't.

All Max could do was stare as he recognised the powerless position he'd put them in.

Lara's power hadn't touched his body but his mind was trapped.

Rage, absolute fucking rage.

How dare she?

This woman came into his life pretending at friendship and she turns around and does this?

Lara lured him into trusting her and she thought it was okay to toy with him like this?

Magic tricks and spells worked to hold Kyle and Finn but Max knew his body was fine.

It was his mind, it was all in his head.

The noise, the distortion, the inability to distinguish the past from the present.

Weakness, this was a weakness and they were exploiting it.

Did they even know they were doing it?

Max could use that ignorance.

Wading through his PTSD back to the surface, all he'd have to do was wait for the right moment and hope that his limbs obeyed him.

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honorhearted · 2 years ago

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Wanker?

Ben bit his cheek to hide a smile, wholly unaccustomed to hearing such crass words from a feminine tongue. "If this is how you speak of Colonel Hamilton behind closed doors, I shudder to think how you must speak of me, madam," he quipped. "But no, I can't say you were wrong in your assessment -- pride and tempers run hot in this camp."

He frowned at Peggy's reference to "his Arnold" -- was she implying he was using flattery to pull ahead?

Choosing to ignore the potential barb, Ben shrugged and said, "Heroes often have large vanities. Or rather, all the accolades have an unfortunate tendency to go to one's head. Arnold isn't so bad..."

He'd complimented Samuel. He spoke of his valor and revered him as a superior soldier, and as far as Ben was concerned, that brought Arnold out of the running for any criticism.

"I-- I know. You have quite an impressive record."

The corner of Ben's mouth quirked, and for just a moment, he was overcome by the urge to tease her -- to perhaps even ask Peggy to repeat herself -- but then she claimed their target was far worse than Gamble or Simcoe.

"Not possible," Ben snapped. Fury licked within his veins akin to a white-hot flame. The mention of those men never failed to incense him, and attempting to tamp down his passions, he irritably fiddled with the saber at his hip, his thumb rolling over the pommel again and again. "Even if Witlow has managed to detect six agents, he has not detected mine. The ring is secure."

Nevertheless, he couldn't deny a sickly sensation of dread taking root in his stomach. What if it wasn't secure? What if the man captured, tortured and killed his dearest friends?

Paling at the thought, Ben rolled his lips inward and scowled down at the ground. "What's the plan then, exactly?" he asked. "Are we to pose as bait? To place a shoddy, amateur drop-off or piece of faulty intelligence to lure him into our vicinity?"

Although he could appreciate Peggy's attempts at levity, all he could truly focus on was the exact scope of damage she claimed. "Six whole colonies?" Ben repeated, his mouth agape. "What in God's name type of weapon could do that?"

It didn't make any sense...it wasn't logical. While he was assuredly a fan of technological advancement, something that powerful was too close to playing God.

Retrieving a scroll, Peggy unrolled the parchment and shared with him that the weapon was a mere orb.

"That is what's so volatile?" Ben asked, incredulous. "Madam, I just don't know..." She spoke then of being the one to handle it, and he drew back to regard her, immediately shaking his head. "No," he denied. "If this can truly obliterate six colonies at once, why would you put your life on the line? Is there...?" He exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. "Could we possibly pitch it into the sea? Would that stop it?"

"Oh?" The veneer of astonishment is newly waxed and polished as Peggy permits a brow to arch. Her heart flutters like the pages of a splayed open book under the influence of the wind. "I must confess, I am flattered." Scarlet painted lips sprawl into an incorrigible grin in spite of her efforts to tamp it down. "Y-- You heard about that?" Her cheeks singe red. "I can assure you, the bloody wanker deserved a proper dressing-down." Unabashed in her continuance, she prods. "Is he always such a tactless slug? Or was his buffoonery an act that he only furnishes in the presence of feminine company? And your Arnold--what's his deal? A larger ego I have not discovered in all of the colonies. I was led to understand that he was some kind of -- hero--" Yet, having graced the man's company for even five minutes, she has determined, quite satisfactorily, that he is a disdainful sort."

A twinkle of amusement casts across Peggy's dark eyes. "Ah yes. It would be unwise to gift me cause to change my mind." She pauses. "Su-- surprised? How? Were you under the impression that I am some feckless assassin?" Sure the title of Agent could intersect.

Her fingers hesitate at his affirmation of experience. "I-- I know. You have quite an impressive record." Of course, having examined both files from the rebels and from their own intelligencers, Peggy finds herself with quite an impression. Though the black inked words on a page do seem to pallor in comparison to the actual man himself. "This man's already detected and murdered six agents. He makes that Left-Tennant Gamble, Colonel Simcoe, and your Swamp Fox appear to be a nursery rhymes." Okay. So Carter has never brushed shoulders with any of those enigmas, but she has heard many of the stories.

Tallmadge's hushed utterance causes a rumble of laughter to race through her. "With your primitive customs? I would beg to differ. Besides, who do you think taught the colonist to ---use-- forks instead of their fingers?" Grinning, she murmurs, "even still, you must be careful."

Peg nods with more understanding than she wishes she had. Her decidedly male superiors had left her out of the loop on most of the discussions. Especially, since Thompson determined her only real use should be the serve him coffee and lunch. "Your criticisms are not unduly merited." Comes her hushed concession. "You see, we're both endangered if Colonel Witlow's weapons hit the colonies. Even my friend, Stark's technology, as destructive as it is, is not capable of leveling six colonies at a time." Why the King had commissioned Witlow's assistance of Clinton escapes Carter. She signed on to SAVE lives, not take them. It is why she had agreed to cooperate with the Major anyways. Though she would be loathe to admit it, she was growing more fond of rebels like Tallmadge.

Still, she unfurls a series of parchments from her pocket. Papers she had stolen off of her fellow agent. "This is the weapon we're looking for. A spherical orb...." Peggy points. "It must be handled with care as the chemicals it's comprised of are highly volatile." She pauses, willing Ben to look it over with her. "Which is why, if we discover it, I should handle it. I don't want to place you into any more danger than you may already be in...."

#timeguardians #to keep up one's appearance #long post tw

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samael-i-am · 2 years ago

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to be a boy

trans hunter week day one - childhood (@rqmdae)

He’d always had a strange sense of dislocation, when it came to his body and his place in the world.

He wasn’t sure when it started - he couldn’t remember much from his childhood, nothing at all before that moment kneeling in charred ashes, his uncle’s hand caressing his shoulder, not even the barest glimpse of a memory before gilded gauntlets curled around his arm. It was just- always sort of there, that odd disconnected sense of different-ness, of wrongness, a little creeping feeling that made his skin crawl and had him tug on the collars of his shirts so they were all baggy in the front and no-one could see his chest. It wasn’t so bad when he was in uniform, body shielded by a thick white cloak, but when he attended the Emperor in his thin cotton shirt and black trousers, there was nothing for him to hide in, phantom eyes tracing the curves of his body that he hated.

He was a girl - he should be a girl, the Emperor told him he was a girl, and didn’t the man who gave him his life know best? Still, he took a strange, secret glee in thinking of himself as a boy, and sometimes he would take wrappings from his first-aid kit and bandage his chest, only out of curiosity, of course, but he felt a perverse sort of pleasure in it, heart beating like he’d won a race. Sometimes, when he was alone, he would hum deep in his chest, and delight in the way it lowered his voice like so many of the other scouts. At some point, he’d begun thinking of himself as a he instead of a she, an inexplicable train of thought that he couldn’t quite shake away, and it jarred him to hear the soft edges of words he no longer thought in terms of whenever someone addressed him.

A few months ago, Kikimora had sat him down with a few books on his ‘changing body,’ and with a long-suffering look to her eye, told him to consult them if he had any questions about things. She had been rather vague about what things entailed. He had read the books cover to cover, some more than once, a horrible revulsion at the images of female witch’s bodies settling in his gut - he did not want that, did not, that was not what he wanted to happen to him, and no matter what he did, it was going to happen anyways. And happen it did - slowly, at first, more padding to his hips, his thighs, his chest - and then it felt as if one day he had woken up, and his body was merely a puppet that he sat inside, something not meant for him, dancing miserably on its strings. It was wrong.

He thought about what life would be like, sometimes, if he were a boy. If his uncle would still comment dryly on the spare curves of his body, in a way that Hunter knew he proved unsatisfactory in this measure, too. Once, when his uncle had been in a good mood, he asked what his name would have been, had he been born a boy. Hunter, his uncle had said, so simple and easy, without a moment’s second thought. Hunter. The name felt rough around the edges, a glove with a lumpy hem, but he took it for his own, when he lay in his bed late at night. Hunter. He wrapped himself in its embrace, and imagined what Hunter might be doing - if Hunter would be more pleasing to Belos than he was, the nephew to take his father’s place instead of a gangly niece with soft cheeks and fat in all the wrong places.

It all came to a head the day he found dark spots of blood in his underwear, the day where the world seemed to collapse - the day, according to Kikimora’s books, that he became a woman, a concept so foreign to him that for a while all he could do was stare at the mess in his pants and hiccup desperately, not quite crying. A woman - Head Witch Terra was a woman, he thought, and Lilith Clawthorne, but him? He was a square peg in that round hole, and he couldn’t shave his edges down to make himself fit. He had to do - something, anything, because suddenly even the barest hint of femininity was something so unbearable it was like a knife to the chest.

He’d never kept his hair long, as a matter of practicality, but it still hung far enough down his head that he could tie it in a tail. That day, in the barrack bathroom, he took his pocket knife and sawed off his blonde locks so that they lay like tiny, wind-curled leaves on the grubby tile floor. When he was done, his hair lay ragged and uneven on the back of his head, and his scalp prickled when he ran his hand along it, and he still looked like a girl, really, but he felt- better. Not good, but better.

He wore a uniform for most of his day, of course, and no one saw what he had done until he attended the Emperor late that evening. Anxiety had eaten away at him with each passing hour - he had never been told how to do his hair, other than to keep it manageable, but his uncle did not take kindly to surprises of this short. Still, the deed was done, and there was nothing he could do but wait.

Wordlessly, he had taken off his mask and hood, and stared at the Emperor’s feet, head bowed underneath the man’s masked gaze. Neither said a word, for a moment, and then something forced its way out of his chest.

“Uncle, I- I don’t think I’m a girl,” he said quietly, eyes glued to the floor.

“Is that right?” He nodded cautiously. “Look at your betters when you speak.” He raised his head, and hunched his shoulders against the Emperor’s cold-eyed stare. “Are you a boy, then?” He wasn’t sure what laced his uncle’s voice, but it was eerily, distinctly unfamiliar. Excitement? Maybe he had been right, that being a girl was unsatisfactory, and his uncle had merely been waiting for him to make the right choice all along.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well,” the Emperor said slowly, thoughtfully, in the way one regarded a pleasant but unexpected piece of news. “Let us see what there is to be done about that.”

#thank GOD i had something to pull out of my drafts for this oh my god #trans hunter always on my mind fr fr #*slaps hunter* this bad boy can fit SO many trans headcanons #the owl house #toh #hunter the golden guard #toh hunter #the golden guard #the owl house season two #hunter the owl house #hunter toh #the owl house hunter #toh fanfic #the owl house fanfiction #transgender #trans hunter week

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thebeautyoffanfics · 3 years ago

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Hey there Savi.. could i request a kou,mitsuba and tsukasa x reader where their s/o gets bullied alot?? I've been struggling with it recently and now that school is going to start again im dreading it .. thank you in advance <3

kou minamoto x gn!reader, mitsuba sousuke x gn!reader, tsukasa yugi x gn!reader

a/n: of course!! I’m really sorry that you’ve had experiences like that, but I also genuinely hope that this year will be better! You’ve got this-!! And don’t be afraid to ask for help <3 you’re so so welcome, tho I’m sure schools probably started by now, therefore I’m super sorry for the time this took- and thank you so much for requesting <3

Waaaaaah i’m also sorry if it’s OOC, cos I know Tsukasa’s at least is;;; writer’s block is aaaaaaah-;; I’ve genuinely been writing this since September 19th,,,,

warnings: bullying

word count: 2,044

kou minamoto <3

You glanced at your phone screen, the date flashing up at you. It was depressing. Thoughts of previous years danced in your head, as you shut your phone back off. You currently stood outside of your school, “open house” finally over. School was starting back in just a few days. Your days of freedom could be counted on one hand… this was, by far, one of your least favorite times of the year.

“(Y/N)! Do you still want to walk to the park?” Kou questioned, running up beside you. You nodded, hoping that spending time with your boyfriend would get your mind off of school, and memories related to such. As the two of you began to walk, you could practically feel the question on the tip of Kou’s tongue. He always made himself rather obvious- his hands fidgeted a bit, his gaze lowering to the ground.

“Say, (Y/N)... you seem sad. Is it because school’s starting back?”

You thought for a moment, unsure of how to put it. He certainly wasn’t wrong…

“Yeah, that’s basically it… last year was just… not a good year, haha.”

“Oh? Well, I’m sure this one will be better!! If you want, we can make a list or something? All the bad things about last year can be something we change this year-!”

Despite bitterly knowing that it wasn’t exactly something within your realm of control, you laughed a bit. “That’s… insanely corny, Kou. I didn’t say a terrible idea- just… corny.”

When you glanced up at him, you noticed his red face, as he blurted out an excuse. A moment of fumbling over his words passed, before he gave up, glancing off to the side once more.

“Wh-whatever- I mean, just… like, tell me what’s wrong, if you want to. And I’ll try to help. Alright?”

“It’s really not something either of us can help, Kou.”

“So? I’m your boyfriend,” He seemed a bit embarrassed to say, most likely not used to pulling that sort of card, “If you don’t want to tell me, I can’t make you. But, if you’re alright with telling me, I want to know. Either way, I’m here for you...”

“Ah… I know it, Kou. Honestly, I just… dealt with some bullying last year, so I’m really not looking forward to this year. No matter how much I hear ‘oh, the bully does it to feel better about themself’, it’s just emotionally… hm, awful, you know?”

“Oh… I understand, (Y/N). I do remember some people picking on me, since I have a big brother like Teru- it’s not fun at all. Here!! I’ll stay with you, 24/7! Sit with me during classes, and I’ll hang out with you during free time!” “Thanks, Kou- but we probably won’t have every class together.”

“Then- just tell me if something happens during the class,” He spoke, crossing his arms rather seriously. “I’ll talk with the teacher! Easy peasy!!”

A moment passed, before Kou took your hand, looking at the ground, then back up with you. His eyebrows were furrowed just slightly, his eyes not as wide as they usually were. Kou was being serious- as serious as his sweet mind could let him be. He almost seemed to resemble his big brother even more- when the two were serious.

“If something happens, tell me, okay? I mean it. I don’t want this year to be bad for you- as your friend and boyfriend! Let me do what I can to help, alright?”

You blinked a bit. Kou’s words were so sincere, you felt your heart beat a bit quicker. “A-alright. Thank you, Kou. I really mean it.” You spoke, bringing the boy into a hug to hide whatever sort of expression you were making.

“Of course! You don’t need to thank me, (Y/N). I’m happy to try and help-!”

mitsuba sousuke <3

“(Y/N), if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I’ll give you something to complain about.”

Ah, Mitsuba… he spoke, his arms crossed as he sat next to you, silently noticing your slightly disheveled clothes. Judging by the slightly down look you wore, too many things were now adding up. Something was bothering you, and he was bound and determined to find out what it was.

“Mitsuba, it’s okay, really. Here! Let’s eat, I’m starving!” You opened up your bento box, sliding one his way, and sticking the chopsticks into your mouth. Though you hummed happily, Mitsuba was… in Detective Mode, to put it lightheartedly. Your every move was being analyzed, as he tried his best to figure out what was wrong. Your eyebrows furrowed, as you swallowed a bit harder than usual.

“What’s the point of lying to me, dummy? If you aren’t hungry, it’s probably because whatever is bothering you is ruining your appetite. Talk to me. I’m serious.”

You sighed, feeling as if the food was stuck in your throat. Or maybe your throat simply felt as though it had a lump in it…? Either way, you were painfully aware of the unpleasant feeling. Along with the creeping suspicion that Mitsuba wasn’t going to leave this alone. Was he good at reading people?? Were you just easy to read…? Or maybe, he was just far too accustomed to the way you reacted to things. Able to focus in on the little things, especially when he wanted to. Perhaps it was the talent of a photographer? Being able to read the entire picture??

Perhaps you were thinking too much into it, desperate for a way to get your mind off of the things going on around you.

“I’m just… dealing with some stuff.”

“Well, duh. What kind of stuff?”

You kept your gaze glued to the floor, fiddling absentmindedly with the chopsticks. You knew you could confide in Mitsuba… yet, something about it felt practically impossible. What would happen if you told him? Could he do anything? He was merely a ghost…

“Oi, I asked a question. Listen, and listen well, you idiot- I know I can’t solve all your problems, but I can at least listen- which is what you’d better be doing right now. You listen to me, though who wouldn’t want to is beyond me, so I can at least do the same. I’m not your therapist, but I am your boyfriend.”

Those words danced around in your mind for a bit, as you considered how to put it. For a moment, you simply nodded, letting Mitsuba know you heard- and were acknowledging- what he said. A few more moments passed before you began to speak.

“Lately, there have been some students… picking on me, I guess. It’s… discouraging, and makes school feel like a living nightmare. You’re the only good thing in my day at this hellhole.”

“Oh.”

You tightened your grip on the chopsticks, trying to read Mitsuba’s tone. Suddenly, it clicked- remembering Mitsuba mentioning being bullied for being “feminine” and “foul-mouthed”. He truly, genuinely, understood where you were coming from.

“I see, then… I’ll tell you what to do, (Y/N). Tell an adult, lame-o. I don’t give a flying flip about ‘oh, they won’t believe me’ or ‘what if the bullies blah blah.’ At least try it- it’s hard, but I don’t care about that either. Also, freaking ignore them. Obviously, you don’t want to pay them attention, so don’t.”

“Mitsuba, it’s not that easy-”

“I know. (Y/N), I’ve been in your shoes. Maybe it’s different- I dunno what kind of bullying they’re doing. Still, if you’re good enough for my standards, you know you’re at least worth something. So don’t let those low-lives get you down. I promise you, if I could, I’d give them a piece of my mind. But, since I can’t, just… do it yourself, or something. Don’t endure it, you rat.”

(“Mitsuba, all your insults lowkey feel like bullying-”

“Shut up, stupid-face, you can’t tell a teacher on a ghost. What’re you gonna say?? Waaaah, sensei, school mystery number 3 is calling me names!! Hah.”

“Tsuchigomori-sensei can see you, you know. And he teaches both Minamoto boys!”

“Lalalaaaa, I can’t hear you-”)

tsukasa yugi <3

Tsukasa… knows.

There was no other way to put it. You knew he knew, and you knew he was just waiting. A part of him wanted you to ask him for help- to confide in him, even if it took some pushing. He was… a bit different in that sense- I mean, how was he to know you didn’t enjoy being bullied? Was it the same way he felt when Amane looked at him with such hatred?

“(Y/N)!! What’s with such a sad look?? Did you get a bad test grade?” Tsukasa questioned, floating alongside you as you entered the broadcasting room. You simply shook your head, placing your bookbag on the floor, then standing back up.

“It’s just been a day, Tsu,” You added, taking a seat near Sakura. As you did, she pushed a cup of tea your way, her gaze as it usually was. She looked right through you, as if you were nothing but a ghost. Still, it was a much better look than the ones given by the bullies. Muttering a ‘thank you’, you lifted the cup, fiddling with it slightly.

“If there’s something bothering you, feel free to share it,” Sakura spoke, her gaze staying on you, then finally closing as she sipped from her cup.

“If there’s something bothering you, share it.” Tsukasa added, placing his head on your shoulder and staring at your eyes. His gaze drifted to your hands when you brought the cup to your lips, then over to your throat as you struggled to swallow.

“Runt, if you don’t back away from them, you’ll the the one bothering them,” Natsuhiko spoke, raising his eyebrows at Tsukasa, then offering you a slightly concerned look. His expression was enough for you to know he wanted to know if you were alright- to which you shrugged, reaching up and patting the side of Tsukasa’s face.

“Don’t worry, guys. I’ll be fine, really.”

Sakura pondered for a moment, before standing. “Mitsuba, would you like to walk with me? I should go grab something.”

Mitsuba, who had been sitting off to the side- glanced up, his usual puppy-like expression on his face. “Sure,” He replied, standing up, practically in sync with Natsuhiko.

“I’ll go as well, my lady!”

Oh. She’s doing that on purpose.

Your eyes followed the trio as they left the room, and you could feel Tsukasa’s eyes still stuck on you. The moment the door shut, he spoke. “(Y/N), tell me what’s wrong. You don’t seem to enjoy being miserable!”

“Am I supposed to?” “You’re miserable then? What’s wrong, c’mon!!”

“I didn’t say I was- just that I don’t think many people like it,” You spoke, taking another sip from the tea. The warmth of it made your throat feel hot, but it didn’t help the lump stuck in it.

“(Y/N). Just admit to me what’s wrong, and I’ll do what I can!”

You sighed, not wanting to grow frustrated. Tsukasa was… trying. He just didn’t understand everything- the boy who enjoyed seeing people wear normally unpleasant expressions, of course he wouldn’t personally understand. He wanted to help you, but how could a ghost help? Much less, the ghost of a boy such as him?

“(Y/N)-” “I’m just dealing with some bullies. It’s fine, Tsukasa- I’ll figure something out.”

“I’ll kill them <3”

“Tsu-”

Tsukasa stepped away from you, crossing his arms. “So, (Y/N), you don’t like it when people bully you? I’ll take care of it! Promise!” “Stop it right there, Mr. Only-grants-wishes-for-the-dead. Don’t ‘take care of them.’ I just need to get enough confidence to tell a teacher or something…”

Tsukasa paused, pouting his lips slightly, before nodding. Quickly, he floated back over to you, and trapped you in a hug. His arms wrapped around you securely, making you feel rather safe for being in the arms of such a destructive boy. “Fine. I’ll go with you, then, (Y/N)! I’ll even hold your hand!! And I definitely won’t let those bullies bother you any more~.”

“Tsukasa, please, don’t do anything drastic-” “Whatever you say, (Y/N). You know I can’t go against the wishes of my cute partner~!”

#anon #gn!reader #x gn!reader #oneshot #tbhk #jshk #kou minamoto #mitsuba sousuke #tsukasa yugi #tbhk x reader #jshk x reader #toilet bound hanako kun #jibaku shounen hanako kun #toilet bound hanako kun x reader #jibaku shounen hanako kun x reader #kou minamoto x reader #mitsuba sousuke x reader #tsukasa yugi x reader

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hellomynameisbisexual · 2 years ago

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The B in LGBTQ+ has long been invisible, erased, and maligned, both within the queer community and outside of it. People who identify as bisexual experience attraction to or have had sexual contact with people of more than one gender. However, misconceptions about bisexuals abound, from the ‘they’re just confused’ statements, to the idea that they’d be more likely to cheat on a partner, and the overarching argument that bisexual people don’t actually exist at all — they’re either gay, straight, or lying.

The consequences of these assumptions have a real, quantifiable impact on the mental and physical wellbeing of bi folks. A brief from the Human Rights Campaign showed that bi people face “minority stress,” commonly experienced by stigmatized groups, and have a higher risk of self-harm and attempted suicide than their gay, lesbian, or heterosexual counterparts. The stigma around being bisexual often stops people from coming out, seeking help, and exploring their sexuality. So, let’s parse through what these misconceptions really are, and what we’re getting wrong about bisexuality.

Myth: There’s no such thing as bisexuality.

Reality: More and more, we’re coming to understand sexuality and gender as fluid concepts. The idea that someone must either be attracted to one sex or the other assumes that our preferences are rigid and permanent. So, why put bi people in a box?

While it’s ridiculous that this needs to be said, studies have confirmed that bisexuals exist. Researchers from Northwestern University tested straight, gay, and bisexual men by exposing them to various erotic film clips and measuring their physiological responses, proving that people aren’t ‘just hiding that they’re gay’ or lying about their sexuality when they identify as bisexual. They really are attracted to people of more than one gender. (Of course, if we’re only going to use sexual stimulation as a marker of sexual orientation, a study also found that ‘straight’ women showed signs of physiological arousal when exposed to clips of masturbation, lesbian sex, bonobo chimps — everything except naked men. Hmmm.)

Myth: Only women are bisexual.

Reality: Women are not more naturally predisposed to identifying as bisexual. Rather, the lack of bisexual men who are open about their sexuality is due to the stigma attached to it. Our culture of toxic masculinity doesn’t allow men to explore their sexuality, whereas women have arguably more leeway, since their relationships with each other aren’t seen as a threat to their femininity in the way that such male friendships threaten ‘manliness.’

While 7% of gay men and 4% of lesbians reported that they were not out at work, 49% of bi men said they didn’t feel comfortable coming out, according to the LGBT in Britain – Work Report by Stonewall, an LGBT rights charity based in the UK. Bisexual men are also at a disproportionately higher risk of contracting HIV and other sexually transmitted infections, because stigma and erasure make them less likely to seek medical care. The idea that only women are bisexual, a la some sort of Katy Perry music video fantasy, is not only ridiculous, but also actively harms the health and wellbeing of bisexual men.

Myth: Bisexual people can’t be monogamous/ will cheat on their partners.

Reality: The assumption that bisexual people are attracted to more than one gender and, therefore, won’t be able to stay in a monogamous relationship, or will cheat on their partners, just isn’t true. A 10-year longitudinal study, published in Developmental Psychology, found that 89% of the bisexual women studied were in long-term, monogamous relationships. The mere fact that someone is attracted to men, women, and gender non-conforming people, doesn’t mean they’re more likely to cheat or sleep with someone else; neither does it mean they’ll always be faithful. The likelihood that a bi person will cheat on a partner is the same as a straight person — it depends on the individual.

Myth: Bisexuals are transphobic.

Reality: Being bisexual doesn’t imply that a person is only attracted to two genders, it simply means that a person isn’t only attracted to the opposite gender. People might assume that bisexuals subscribe to the gender binary of either man or woman, but in actuality, bisexuals may be attracted to cis people, non-binary, gender non-conforming, and trans folks as well. In order to clarify this, people may also use the term ‘bi+’ to indicate that they’re attracted to more than just two genders.

Myth: Bisexuals face less stigma.

Reality: Bisexual people, if in a relationship with someone of the opposite gender, have the ability to ‘pass’ as heterosexuals. Because of this, they’re often told that they face less stigma than a queer person, who often has no choice but to be out about their identity in order to have a relationship. And data from the Pew Research Centre shows that 84% of self-identified bisexuals are in a relationship with someone of the opposite gender. But this isn’t a cop out — it might be more likely for bi folks to find straight partners, because they are the majority of the population.

However, being with a heterosexual person does not invalidate a bisexual person’s sexuality. And the risks have been well documented — bi people are at higher risks for experiencing mental health issues like anxiety, depression, substance abuse, as well as heart disease, cancer, and STIs. This is directly because of the stigma and simultaneous erasure and invisibility that they face. And if we don’t start combatting some of our assumptions, bi folks will continue to be affected by them.

These misconceptions about bisexuality are directly impacting people’s mental and physical health, causing them to feel isolated and delegitimizing an integral part of their identity. Only when we start breaking down these myths for what they really are — myths — can we begin the work of reversing the years of bi-erasure and fully accepting the B in LGBTQ+.

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 years ago

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ok, so we have paranoid bella and all other incarnations, but what about Bella who is just a complete sociopath. She completely understands what a vampire is and what she's getting into by wanting to be one. Bella just wants to be immoral and powerful regardless of the consequences. Edward can't read her mind and I imagine Bella has learned social cues and hiding evidence enough to be about at an equal level social standings wise with already weird book Bella. How does the twilight series go?

Anon is referring to Paranoid Bella.

And oh boy, alright, let's do this I suppose.

On Why Bella Doesn't Have to Be the World's Greatest Actress

Of a note, I don't think Edward would even notice that Bella's... odd. Even if she were a fantastic actress (Bella is notably in canon a very poor liar and very easy to read).

This is because he doesn't actually care what Bella is like, he projects onto her, and she smells phenomenal. In other words, he'll still tell himself Bella's a feminine Carlisle Cullen knock off even if she's drowning puppies in a well.

So Bella doesn't need those social cues, Edward genuinely will not notice, and he will not care.

Regardless, you've set the stage with a completely different character and I guess we're going with that.

The Tale of Sociopath Bella

As in canon, Bella immediately notes something is off about the Cullens. Then Edward tries to eat her in Biology. In canon, Bella was terrified in this moment and genuinely thought this boy might kill her. She later tells herself this was irrational and tries to shrug it off, but none the less, she was terrified.

You don't give me too much to go off of with Sociopath Bella in terms of personality traits, but I imagine she still fears for her life in this moment.

I imagine what she does is, after collecting herself, try to get Edward Cullen thrown out of school. Bella is now a sociopath with no empathy towards others, Edward Cullen makes her uncomfortable and appears to actively wish her harm, she's going to do something about this.

I imagine, rather like Amy Dunne from "Gone Girl", she accuses him of sexual assault and goes about fabricating evidence, including harming herself. When asked, others agree that Edward was acting very strange in Biology towards Bella Swan and is generally kind of creepy. Even the administration agrees that something odd appeared to happen, as Edward tried to switch out of his Biology class immediately and then he disappeared without warning for a week after having appeared perfectly healthy the day before.

Something happened in that class, or after it, and that something seems to revolve around Bella Swan.

There's no real evidence, but there's enough suspicion that Edward is granted his wish when he returns: he gets moved into Physics. Edward, of course, is appalled. That girl not only humiliated him and ruined his life by merely existing and smelling delicious, but now she's spreading slanderous lies about him. His family, of course, knows the truth and tries to comfort him (it doesn't really matter, there's no evidence and they'll be gone in a few years anyway, as it is they can leave early if they have to and no harm done) but Edward seethes.

He makes a point of confronting Bella, both to notice if she noticed anything odd (as in canon), and to get revenge for her slander. Unfortunately for Edward, again, there's a little too many witnesses, and Edward looks... unfriendly. Bella files for a restraining order through her father, it's approved in record time.

Edward is now livid.

This woman is the devil.

Well, that there seals Bella's fate. She is a great evil upon this earth, the worst kind of woman, and in a way just as monstrous as the rapist pigs he used to eat. She's destroying his family's reputation in this town, destroying his school life, and he won't stand for it. Carlisle wouldn't approve, but at some point, the demon wins.

Edward gleefully eats Bella in her bedroom. The crime scene is as grotesque and bloody as you can imagine.

Which, of course, also makes him the primary murder suspect (correct in this case, well done Charlie). With the advent of the internet, with cable television, and with Edward now having to disappear before they start trying to get DNA, the Cullens have to go off the grid and exit society.

They now live in a cave, thanks to Edward and Bella.

But That Wasn't What I Wanted!

I get the feeling you wanted to get a little further into canon than that. So, for once, I'll oblige.

Sociopath Bella, for whatever reason, holds her tongue and takes no action when Edward is terrifying as fuck in Biology. He disappears for a week, she finds this very strange, then he returns, clearly interested in her, which is also very strange.

Bella continues to have no sense of self-preservation (for some reason) and still does not take action against Edward. Even when he confesses to wanting to eat her on numerous occasions.

By the time Bella figures out Edward's a vampire, she wants to be one, desperately. Edward doesn't seem... amenable.

But unlike Canon Bella, Sociopath Bella isn't here to please Edward. After the James incident, and she's met the family, I imagine she takes stock of her options and tries to see who is her best mark.

I imagine Bella lands on either Carlisle or Jasper. Carlisle, because he has the best control and has clearly turned several already, and Jasper because he has shown no hesitation on doing what he believes needs to be done regardless of the family.

If she approaches Carlisle, I imagine she points out the peril her life is in. Edward could crush her at any moment, she nearly died thanks to James, her very existence puts his coven in peril and Edward does not seem inclined to let her go either. This is untenable. (I imagine Bella also learns during the course of this conversation about the Volturi Law, as Carlisle undoubtedly explains it in clearer terms than Edward initially did). Edward has condemned her to death, they both know it, and it's best Carlisle turn her sooner rather than later.

Carlisle is deeply uncomfortable with this but doesn't disagree. I imagine he tries to argue for after Bella's graduation, when she can more easily disappear. I imagine she pushes for that summer, plans a hiking accident and forces his hand with "sooner is better than later".

If she goes to Jasper, Bella points out the same thing. This is untenable, she's breaking the law by existing, she must be turned. Jasper fully agrees (and would like not to eat her) but he doesn't have the control to turn her. He would in turn go to Carlisle (leading to the above scenario).

Now, through Alice's visions, Edward would likely find out about all of this and throw the greatest fit the world has ever seen. He rages at Bella, then himself when he realizes she has a bit of a point and he's condemned her to be a vampire, then rages at her again because the Volturi need not ever know and EDWARD WILL LEAVE HER DAMN YOU!

I imagine Bella keeps pushing, which may get her mercy killed by Edward.

In the event that his guilt is all-consuming and he can't even grant her mercy for he is such a wretched beast, Bella turns, and...

I imagine she's a perfect Cullen.

Bella has superb control, to the point of ridiculousness, more the Cullen lifestyle appeals to her beyond just immortality. They have stability, material wealth, and while Bella doesn't care about the familial connection she won't say no to it either.

Being a man eating nomad has no appeal to this Bella.

She'll follow the diet meticulously to a t, do the high school routine perfectly, and ignore Edward's spiral into depression and despair now that he's ruined Bella Swan's life.

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #bella swan #edward cullen #anti edward cullen #bella/edward #anti bella/edward #carlisle cullen #jasper whitlock #meta #headcanon #opinion

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russeliarat · 2 years ago

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Got more ideas for the Zonai! It’s mostly about the interpersonal lives the Zonai experienced than lore like the last one tbh.

~ The Zonai are a mostly agricultural society, only hunting for ritualistic purposes and for survival. They were the ones to cultivate the wheat, sugar, grains, and herbs that are still popular in Hyrulean cooking, making them a very strong contender for trading and very important to Hyrulean culture. Additionally, Faron has the highest concentration of wood and stonework in Hyrule, so they had also become an integral component to the construction industry - though were very selective of who would get materials from their homeland.

~ Agriculture is a huge part of society, with farming and draft animal care being a large part of the Zonai’s day-to-day life. After a trade between a few Hylian towns, the Zonai got a hold of draft animals to assist them, such as oxen, who had become the Zonai’s most recognisable travelling and working companions.

~ The daily life of being a high priest is quite isolating as they often only have the comfort of each other and their deity. It is often that high priests will visit the villagers, though due to their sheltered upbringings and isolation, most are unable to create true, close bonds. Most high priests are kept within their temples from birth due to their parent(s) being members of that temple’s worship and often come from high priests themselves. The exception is if a child chooses or is chosen to serve in the temple, wherein their recruitment will begin immediately rather than several years into living there.

~ The duties of the high priests both differ and are quite similar due to both their own and their deity’s disposition. Most are there to keep their god company and run their religious errands. All three gods like the sound of music, though have vastly differing tastes; Hylia prefers the sounds of strings and melancholy music, Ekoza likes the sound of wind instruments and freeing, uplifting music, and Kikias would rather have the sounds of drums and percussion with war-like, powerful music. They are also tended to in differing ways. Hylia hides herself away behind a curtain of fine material that merely projects her shadow onto the walls, and such only allow her Aama to lay eyes upon her (even if she later becomes blind - she actually prefers her Aama to look at her when blind because Hylia knows she will never be judged for her appearance), also only having her Aama running public errands. Ekoza is high-maintenance and has three other caretakers that tend to him, meaning that his only needs for his Vamai are emotional needs and the occasional physical touch when he is calm and collected. Kikias is a very active god and likes to tend to their own temple with their priests, often being their own caretaker. It doesn’t mean that they don’t like be fawned over by their worshippers and can encourage it, however their only needs their Zoclu can attend to are their ritualistic and emotional needs. In additional, all three high priests lead the Zonai tribe as a group of three and take a leadership role within celebrations, festivals, and rituals.

~The latest priests (there’s a story brewing in my head, I swear) consist of the ‘Immortal Aama’, the ‘Youthful Vamai’, and the ‘Mighty Zoclu’, serving Hylia, Ekoza, and Kikias respectively. The Aama has a calmer personality, though is somewhat flirty and has what I like to call the autistic sense of humour. She embodies the Zonai’s impression of a feminine presence and is almost fully blind, only able to see the difference between light and dark - she chooses to neglect any mobility aids such as canes as her sword has its own dowsing ability and she knows both her temple and her village inside and out, as well as preferring to feel out her environment. The Vamai is a child of around 15 years of age, and is strong-willed and adventurous in their duties. They are not afraid of taking risks, which is both a blessing and a curse when it comes to Ekoza’s own personality. They sometimes come across as a fed-up caretaker for the dragon god but truly care for him and his servants and is an overall energetic person. They are said to be the antithesis of androgyny. The Zoclu is a wall of brute force and kindness, though very intimidating and often comes across as overly aggressive. Think of the Zoclu as a Goron in Zonai skin - the definition of a himbo. Yet, he is very intelligent, and below the Aama, is considered one of the smartest people in the tribe. Despite his loss of an arm, his power and fighting ability is as strong as a being with three and is a force to be reckoned with, earning him the title of Zonai protector.

~ The arts are an incredibly important part of the Zonai culture, with not only Zonai stonework and architecture littered across Hyrule, but also with rare materials being found within their work such as jade, jasper, amethyst, etc, which many had seemingly gone extinct in the wild. Weaving and clothes-making were just as important as blacksmithing and stonemasonry, and they were the first people to figure out how to draw out vivid dyes and colours from plants and flowers in a far more effective way than the current methods of Hyruleans. Their shapely way of dress and colourful clothing is still a strong identifier in history for this tribe, as well as the tattoos and paints they would seemingly adorn their bodies with on a frequent basis.

~ Those in dangerous roles such as warriors, traders (due to their contact with the outside world), and the Vamai, had the uniforms often require the usage of many gems and jewel adornments to keep them safe using their elemental powers. Many clothing items were bejewelled with sapphire to keep cool in the humid Faron heat, and used topaz to ward off monsters with electricity. Though used rarely, ruby found use when travelling further into upper Hyrule when travelling for trade. Amber were believed to be blessed stones and would wear them for good luck and safety during battles, whilst the rare diamond would be offered to a temple for the god and worshipping priests’ good fortune and are usually worn minutely in the high priest’s outfit were offered to by their god as a show of such.

#legend of zelda #loz #zelda #botw #breath of the wild #botw zonai #breath of the wild zonai #zonai #loz zonai

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