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aemxnd · 1 year

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midnight rain | daemon targaryen x niece!reader

Can the sunshine win over the darkness?

Heavily inspired by a gender-swapped Taylor Swift’s Midnight Rain as requested by @prettycutebunny, I hope I did your idea justice (and apologies for changing one lyric to suit the plot!)

WORDS: 5.3k (I’m so sorry)

WARNINGS: canon typical incest, dubcon, angst everywhere you look, p in v, v fingering, physical violence, breeding, degradation, praise, pain kink, Daemon being a real asshat, reader is Viserys and Alicent’s third child, reader has silver hair for plot point, Stockholm Syndrome, terrible High Valyrian translations, crying, power imbalance due to age difference.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

My requests are open! 🖤

Such a pretty little songbird.

Little Starling, your mother had once named you as a child. A free spirit, bound only by the towering castle walls that clipped your wings as the youngest child of the King and his second Queen. Weeks, months, years passed daydreaming beneath your favourite tree, reading the same fantastical books and listening to the same wistful odes from your minstrel.

All the while under the careful eye of your kepus.

Life’s tragedies and horrors had never crossed your path, never entered your realm, therefore could never harm you. Your childhood as idyllic as you could imagine, save for a loving father. That void was dutifully replaced by your uncle Daemon, whose unrivalled care and indomitable attention ensured you never wanted for anything more, evermore understanding that your father’s duty to his throne far exceeded the loving relationship expected toward a daughter and that his brother could offer the closest companionship to his. Yours was an unbreakable bond that defied all secrets, surpassed all proprietary expectations and often branched into full conversation in High Valyrian to remain undetected by outside ears.

Meanwhile, your elder brothers Aegon and Aemond sought to salve the absence of a protective male role model closer to your own age, ensuring they trained in the sword to their own degrees should their little sister ever need rescue. No matter how often you reassured them, they refused to share your belief that no danger could come to you, for danger did not seek you. With the guard of three silver-haired Princes, you thought yourself invincible.

As you matured together, however, your brothers discovered distractions. For Aegon, it was women, cups and the sordid activities beyond the castle walls. For Aemond, it was Vhagar, studies and bitterness. You could not begrudge them the right to grow, to extend their roots beyond your all-too-comfortable sibling unit, as you too had become distracted by literature, music and the pursuit of a quiet life with precious few responsibilities. Somehow your tranquil existence had eluded the conversation of marriage, recognising your unfettered spirit aspiring to greater things than a life secluded within the Red Keep.

But not in the eyes of your kepus.

~~She was sunshine, I was midnight rain~~

“What troubles you, little starling?” Called a familiar voice from behind your favourite reading spot in the Godswood. You squinted against the midday sun to find your beloved uncle Daemon watching over you, an uneasy frown skewing his lips. “Why are you so often here alone?”

“Good day, dear kepus,” you closed the tome in your lap, clasping your hands together. “My brothers are at the Dragonpit, where I fear a princess may never tread.”

“And you are content with reading in solitude?” Daemon stepped closer, treading carefully over the gnarled roots of the tree upon which you sat. “Would you not prefer company?”

“I am sure others would not wish to read the tales I choose to indulge,” you clutched your book closer to your chest, hurriedly attempting to conceal its cover from him. Sighing thoughtfully, you smiled up at your uncle. “I am resigned to the life of a quiet Princess Regent, neither an heir nor a common-born. No responsibility, no authority, yet still no freedom.”

Daemon approached and perched on a root beside you, chuckling softly under his breath. “I suppose that notion is all too familiar to us both, Princess.”

“Then how did you assuage it, uncle?” You looked over to him, noticing a distinct pain behind the considerate smile on his countenance. “How did you counsel yourself to contentment with such an existence?”

“What in the Seven Heavens makes you believe that I have?” Daemon snorted, gaze dropping into his lap. “How do you counsel yourself to contentment with a life of loneliness, niece? You are but seven-and-ten, do you not wish to take a husband? Make an honest man out of some egotistical Lannister?”

You smiled warmly. “I do not wish to marry, uncle. No aspect of marriage or childbearing holds any attraction for me, for I could never find the love of which I read in literature.”

“That I find hard to believe, Princess. If you wish to marry for love, your parents would be only too happy to oblige.” His hand reached to clasp over your thigh reassuringly. “One day, you will find the Prince you deserve.”

A comfortable silence fell between you, enough to hear the rising volume of the wind in the Godswood. You glanced up in tandem to see the once-turquoise sky fading to an ominous grey.

“A storm is coming, Princess,” Daemon clicked his tongue, slapping his knees demonstrably and rising to his feet. With a kindly hand proffered in the space between you, he beamed down at you. “May I accompany my little ray of sunshine to shelter?”

As you reached to accept, Daemon finally caught a glimpse of your book’s cover and smiled to himself. “The Tales of Persephone and Hades, I see.” His voice lowered to a mutter so indistinct you could not hear him. “How apt, vēzos.” Sun.

You paced slowly toward the library together, Daemon always one step behind, his hands clasped studiously behind his back as you meandered around hallway after indiscriminate hallway, wordlessly travelling as if no conversation could be found. You would never notice the manner in which Daemon consumed the image of you before him, a woman grown so distinctly from the small babe he had observed in your youth, born with gleaming silver hair which now tumbled to the length of your hips. Your regal green gown swayed as you moved and swept the hallway before his intrepid footsteps, Daemon swallowed harshly as he imagined the frame concealed by your bodice and boned skirt.

~~She wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain~~

Upon your arrival at the dimly-lit library hall, you turned to nod a farewell to your escort.

“Thank you, uncle,” you smiled before quickly turning on your heels in search of another book to lose yourself in. As you paced, you heard your footsteps echoing with another, realising that Daemon had followed you. After a few more steps, you ground to a sudden halt, giggling gently as he bumped into you and nearly lost his footing. You grasped his arms behind you and steadied him, the gentle clearing of his throat behind you making you chuckle harder. “Kepus, are you following me?”

His hands searched for your waist and skimmed the contour of your hips, pulling you flush to his chest so close his warm breaths fanned your hair. Your laughter silenced with the sudden realisation that this was no child’s play.

“I would follow you to the ends of the earth, little starling,” he whispered into the shell of your ear, venturing a hand to brush your tumbling silver curls from your neck so he could blaze a trail of butterfly kisses unimpeded. Your breath hitched in your throat, eyes fluttering closed as his gentle touch melted your resistance immediately.

“Kepus… what do you mean?” You asked timidly, almost afraid of the response.

His next searing kiss into the base of your neck lingered a while, his lips wrapping you up in anticipation and longing for a touch you had never before desired, but now that you had it, you craved it more than the air you breathed. Your head threw back into the blissful sensation, earning a low groan from Daemon that vibrated softly against your skin.

“You have always been the midday sun to my midnight rain, haven’t you, little one?” Daemon whispered. “You were born into this world when I returned from the Stepstones, a ray of light when my world was shrouded in darkness. Whenever my life has succumbed to the pitch black of night, you were always there to illuminate the way.”

Your hands rested on his as they traversed deep into the valley of your pelvis, hovering over the position of your most sensitive place concealed only by the structure of your dress.

“Uncle, please…,” you muttered in a form of weak protest that came out as an encouragement, unable to scramble through your mind for a reason why you should reject his advances. He had lost Laena, you were unwed, there were no marital connections to stop you. Your beloved uncle, who more or less raised you in the absence of your father, had been the deepest love in your heart all your life. Whether or not that had been a romantic love or not, you could not deny the way your body responded to his touch as if you had yearned for this moment ever since you first read of love. Holding him this close felt as natural as breathing.

“Hush now, little starling,” he cooed as his lips blazed a trail up to your earlobe and nibbled gently, all while pressing his palm into your skirt so his fingers could make contact with your mound beneath, making featherlight strokes into the fabric and causing your hips to buck into his hand. “Tepagon aōla naejot nyke.” Give yourself to me.

The darkness enveloped the daylight as you nodded in agreement, and in the blink of an eye Daemon gripped your hips, spun you to face him and captured your lips with his. At first tentative, he pulled back to scan your face for a response, only to growl hungrily as he watched your gaze journey to his lips eagerly awaiting their next contact, consuming your mouth with his before you could mutter a protest. Your hands instinctively reached to lace around his neck, drawing him closer and dipping into the kiss as if your hunger could not be sated, craving as much contact as physically possible.

Without you knowing, Daemon had steered your clinch across the room toward the nearest desk, lifting you to rest on the wood and swiftly hitching your skirt up around your hips in the process. His lips refused to part from yours, nudging his nose into your cheek and humming contentedly against your mouth. With one hand cupping your cheek, the other ghosted a featherlight trail from your knee to your inner thigh, blazing toward your smallclothes between your legs, grazing the sodden fabric as it clung to your core.

“You already want the darkness, don’t you niece?” He pressed, groaning greedily and venturing both hands to rip the weak cotton apart at the seams. With his last obstacle laid to waste and clinging to your hips, his fingers grazed your pulsing folds and collected the waiting droplets of your anticipation. “I have waited so many years to feel your heat, ñuha vēzos.” My sun.

Your vision swirled like a hurricane, conflicting emotions and thoughts blurring the image of the silver-haired prince gazing down at you through lust-blown pupils as he watched his fingers daring to breach your folds before you gave him permission.

“Kepus, not yet,” you pleaded against your own better judgement, a whimper escaping him as you planted both palms on his chest to keep him an arm’s distance away. “We are not yet married, I don’t think this is right.”

Daemon chuckled to himself before grasping both your wrists in one hand and raising them above your head, his free hand pressing your chest to lay you flat on the desk. Pinning your wrists above you and leaning down to hover over you, two fingers rediscovered your folds and slipped inside in one smooth motion.

“Then don’t think, sweetling,” he whispered as he buried his fingers inside you to the knuckle, fingertips eagerly curling into your spongy walls and stroking slowly. Your hips tentatively reared into his touch, a palpable trepidation leaving you worrying about your maidenhead, the pain of coupling that literature failed to address yet had always remained on the lips of every birthing woman within the Keep. Daemon noticed your hesitation and thrust his fingers deeper, eliciting a strangled gasp from the depths of your lungs and revelling in your back arching into his motions. “It’s alright starling, the darkness has you now.”

You swallowed harshly, eyes roving to the ceiling as the full sensation in your cunt overwhelmed you. With a disapproving click of his tongue, Daemon tightened his grip on your wrists and slammed them against the hard wood, making you hiss gently.

“Don’t take your eyes off me, niece,” he commanded until your gaze met his again, ramping up the pace of his pumps as you buckled beneath him. “You need not be ashamed of letting go. Let your kepus take control.”

Daemon’s thumb journeyed to settle on your clit, tracing lazy circles around your bundle of nerves while his fingers drove fervently in a race to reach the furthest points inside you, the wet slaps of his motions echoing through the library. Watching closely as your back arched against his restraint, your eyes fluttering to close as if your climax were nearing, the edge of your pleasure cliff was cruelly snatched from you as his fingers withdrew from your soaking folds with a lewd pop. In a determined hurry and a rustle of fabric, Daemon fumbled with his breeches and freed himself before quickly replacing his digits with a smooth thrust of his length into your cunt. Your determined lubrication enabled his swift entry to sheath himself inside you, but not without discomfort as you winced to handle the stretch of your walls around his girth.

“Easy now, vēzos,” he soothed, pressing a palm into the valley of your hips to feel his tip grazing your innermost core and sending a shallow shiver throughout your body. “Soon the pain will become comfortable, I promise.”

You swallowed deeply, nodding in compliance and dutifully wrapping your legs around his waist to allow him easier access within you. Daemon grunted, making his next thrust deep and punishing to the point you yelped out, filling the library with the echoes of your cries.

“That’s it, little one,” he hummed contentedly, working your cunt with his bucking hips like a man possessed, his free hand gripping your hip to impale you further. He leaned further over you to hover his lips over yours, his towering stature blocking out the dim candlelight of the room and enveloping you in pitch black night. “Give yourself to me, let the darkness take you.”

With every merciless thrust deep into your cunt, your helpless mewls grew louder which only encouraged Daemon’s animalistic plunges within you. Gathering what little strength you could muster, you weakly pulled your wrists against his restraint.

“Please… need to… touch you,” you stuttered, fingers clamouring into mid-air for contact. Daemon’s sadistic grin faded as he acquiesced, your hands firing to curl around his neck and pulled him in for a searing kiss so you could silence your screams into his mouth, his relentless force pummelling you into the hard wood of the desk beneath which was sure to leave flayed grazes on your spine the next day.

“My little sunshine, you feel like heaven around me,” he cooed against your lips, curling his thrusts to bottom out inside you so hard your blurred vision of him would glitter with stars. “Does this not feel like heaven to you?”

You whimpered an unintelligible response, unable to compose any coherent thought as his cock filled you to the hilt. The searing heat swelling inside you brought the vision of your cliff edge back into sharp focus, begging you to drive your hips up to meet his in a desperate race for your release. Daemon recognised your eagerness and met it with a newfound brutal pace, pounding into you so fast the lewd skin slapping that echoed through the chamber became staccato and relentless.

“When you are carrying my child, your father will wed you to me,” he leaned to whisper in your ear, anchoring himself by wrapping his hand around your throat, his fingers and thumb pressing eagerly into each side to stem your blood flow rushing to your head, leaving you breathless and helpless. “And I will return inside your pretty little cunt every single night for the rest of our lives.”

His thrusts became jagged, betraying his own approach to the precipice.

“You see, every night the darkness consumes the light.”

With one last devastating thrust, your high flooded through you like a tidal wave and crashed against Daemon’s incoming climax, flooding your walls with his release and blending with your own, his gaze travelling to watch the space between you as his glistening cock hammered into your depths and stuttered as he poured inside you. The once-deafening lewd sounds of your coupling now replaced with ragged breaths, gasps for air and Daemon’s contented grunts as he rode out his orgasm within you, you threw your head back against the wood in sheer realisation of your own weakness.

Not yet married, but most likely to carry your kepus’ child before long.

You threw your hands to your belly, clutching at the flatness between your pelvis. Pulling out from you and admiring the soaking mess between your folds, Daemon’s hands rested upon yours as you looked up to find him gazing lovingly at the same space which terrified you to the core.

“Byka vēzos,” he hummed. Little sun. “If you do not conceive this time, we have the rest of our lives together to ensure you will.”

~~She looked like a bride, I was making my own name~~

Some flowers bloom only when the sun sets.

You blossomed for Daemon in a way he could never have anticipated. His bravery in the battlefield garnered him the courage to risk it all for a chance to make you his wife, but he found so very little resistance in your kind reception that his claim over you simply fell into his lap. The thrill of the chase evaded him, as you caved so effortlessly to his will.

Each time he requested your presence in his chambers, you parted your thighs and accepted him willingly. Yet each time you requested his presence in turn, he refused, ensuring he kept you wanting more and more, the suspense crafting a new height of pleasure each time you were called to his chambers, bent over his bed and pounded within an inch of consciousness.

Daemon Targaryen had laid his claim to your body and mind, yet all that remained was his possession of your soul.

Unbeknownst to you, Daemon had long pleaded with your father to wed you to him. Informally at first, often disguised as a joke to strengthen the Targaryen bloodline by betrothing two dragons to each other to fight for all eternity. But since the night in the library, his requests increased in volume and tenacity, resulting in a physical confrontation in the throne room between dragon brothers. Dismissing Daemon’s demand as nothing more than a vicious clamour for the Iron Throne, your father sought to banish his brother from King’s Landing to Dragonstone, where he would live out his days out of earshot of the Red Keep, where he would never again hear the pathetic whimpers of a man desperate to bed his youngest daughter for power.

To you, that night came as any other, as Daemon’s maid requested your presence in his chambers at the dead of night and you dutifully obliged, pacing the Keep corridors in eager anticipation of meeting him once more. As you crept through his door, a heavy fabric flew towards you and you grabbed it in mid-air. A dark cloak.

“Kepus, what—?”

“We need to leave. Tonight.” Daemon’s voice was short, snappy, panicked as his face came into view in the darkness. His brows knitted together, his lips skewed with fear.

“Wh… why? Did my father refuse our betrothal?”

“Of course he fucking did,” Daemon snapped through gritted teeth, grabbing the cloak still laying in your shaking hands and throwing it over your shoulders for you. “We need to leave for Dragonstone now, there’s a boat waiting for us in the harbour.”

“I don’t… why do we… what happened?” You were frozen to the spot, confusion washing over you in waves. Daemon’s hands balled into fists as he adjusted the hood over your head.

“Will you stop asking so many fucking questions? Just get down to the harbour, I’ll meet you there soon.”

“Kepus… I’m scared,” you stuttered, hands held out in front of you as if still holding the heavy cloak. “Will I ever see my parents again?”

Daemon smoothed the fabric over your shoulders and tucked the hood over your eyes. Pressing a quick dismissive kiss to the fabric laying over your forehead, he clasped your face and pulled it upwards.

“Whatever happens, little starling, we are each other’s family from this moment on.”

Suddenly, the tense silence between you shattered to the sound of deafening bangs on the door to his chambers. Immediately hunching his back defensively, he ushered you across the chamber toward a dark passage where a rogue guard waited to take you onward. “Place your trust in Ser Baleon, I will meet you at the shore.”

The crashes against the wooden portal intensified as you fled, the distinct swoop of metal from the chamber behind you suggesting Daemon had armed himself against the ambush. Searing hot tears blazed volcanic streams down your cheeks as you fought to focus on your steps down the dark spiral staircase to safety, wondering if you would ever see Daemon alive again.

~~Chasing that fame, she stayed the same~~

“Your father is a cunt,” Daemon hissed, storming into your Dragonstone chambers and crossing the room in three great strides to tower over you.

“Surely not, kepus,” you attempted to calm his temper with a reassuring palm pressed to his chest. “What has he said to irk you so?”

“He’s sent a raven to enquire after you,” he seethed, his jaw clenched tightly as if it might snap at any moment. “He claims that I kidnapped you in the dead of night and will not return you to your birthright in the Red Keep.”

“But I came to Dragonstone of my own free—,” you were cut off by Daemon’s hand firing to grasp your throat, your fingers racing to claw at his grip and prize yourself free.

“Well why don’t you speak those precious words to your beloved father instead?” He half-growled, sneering down at you as if you were his prey. “He seems to be the one that needs persuading of your own free will, Princess.”

“If you… if you let me, I will,” you stuttered against his restrictive clutch, weakly attempting an escape to breathe properly.

“You would love that, wouldn’t you?” He snarled, using one hand to spin you by your waist while retaining his grip on your throat, pressing his chest flush to your back and steering you to the bed. “You could run back to the Red Keep and your books and your perfect little boring life.”

“Kepus, please,” you protested weakly, reaching a hand ahead of you to cushion your fall as he dropped you face-first into the sheets. “Please, don’t…”

“Please don’t what, starling?” He chuckled, bunching your skirt over your behind and battling with his own breeches. “Don’t fight for my family, or don’t take my wife whenever I so wish?”

You scrunched your eyes closed, willing to block out whatever was coming next. This was not the careful husband you knew, this was not the devoted uncle who raised you in place of your father, this was certainly not the man who you fell in love with under a stormcloud amongst ancient tomes. This midnight rain will pass, no matter how much love it unravels in the eye of the storm.

Delivering a swift nudge to your thighs, your legs were parted and Daemon crawled between them, grasping your hips and drawing you up to impale yourself on his hardened cock. With no preparation, you yelped at the intrusion and hissed gently.

“The pain will soon become comfortable,” he declared as he ruthlessly bottomed out inside you. “I promise.”

Tears welled in your eyes, threatening to burst their banks as the agony coursed through you in waves, slowly replaced by bolts of pleasure as his tip grazed your innermost walls.

“Please… take me easily, my Prince,” you wheezed out between merciless thrusts stealing your breath from your lungs. “I am… I am with…”

“You would do well not to give orders when I can ensure you lose consciousness in a moment, little one,” Daemon hissed, pounding into you with an inhuman pace, sending your eyes roving to the ceiling as his nails dug crescent dips into the flesh of your hips. “You want to stay awake while I fill you up, don’t you? Maybe this time you will bear me a child.”

“Daemon, please be gentle…,” you fought to finish your declaration while balling your fists into the sheets, your elbows caving beneath you. “I am with child.”

With your last syllable, Daemon’s thrusts ceased instantly, leaving you whimpering at the immediate loss of friction. He stilled completely, not so much as a laboured breath escaping him behind you, his length still nestled halfway inside you.

“My Prince, I… I’m sorry,” you reassured, venturing a hand back towards him as if willing him to hold it. “I should have spoken sooner.”

You breathed into the deafening silence, wondering if he did not wish you to deliver the news in such a manner. Suddenly, a cool splash of water hit your scalding spine. A tear. Daemon’s tear.

“I have failed you, starling,” he sighed, completely shattering his blind rage into a self-deprecating reflection. Allowing his length to slip out from your folds, he released your hips and collapsed onto the sheets beside you. “After all this time, I could have destroyed our child with my recklessness.”

“You have never failed me, kepus, our babe is safe inside me,” you purred, reaching to brush another tear from his cheek. “If he’s anything like his father, he can withstand any amount of force.”

Daemon’s saddened gaze turned to you, still on all fours beside him. He ventured a hand to brush your cheek.

“I do not deserve you, vēzos jehikagon.” Sunshine.

In the blink of an eye, you threw a leg over his own to capture him between your thighs. Hovering your waiting folds over his length, still hardened and bobbing between your bodies as you awaited a signal to proceed.

“Let me please you, my King,” you pleaded, one hand venturing between your legs to stroke his cock and line his tip with your aching entrance.

Daemon’s gaze met yours, his wounded pride hooding his eyelids in contrast with your wide-eyed anticipation. You smiled at your silver-haired captor so warmly, he could not resist your brilliant sunshine blinding him to walk into the light. Gently bucking his hips to meet you in the middle, you lowered onto his length and shared a gratuitous moan as he filled you slowly and completely.

“You are truly carrying my babe?” His hands journeyed to your belly, swelling softly beneath his palms as you rocked gently into him.

“As true as the sun shines above us, ñuha jorrāelagon.” My love. “The Maester says it is early, so I should rest as much as possible.”

Daemon stilled, concerned. “Then you should cease at once, allow me to…”

“And deprive me of this moment with my beloved? Never,” you asserted, sinking down carefully and bucking your hips to graze his tip against your walls, dropping so far you could swear you felt his cock deep in your stomach. “Besides, I may not be able to ride my dragon for much longer so I will take any chance I can get.”

“When you grow too weary to ride your dragon,” Daemon’s fingers splayed out across your belly as you bobbed above him, his eyes journeying to the ceiling momentarily as the sensation of your walls tightening around him stole his breath. “Rest assured that your dragon will take good care of you, little one.”

The mere implication of his words sent you careering to your precipice, clenching tightly around his cock as your walls rippled and pulsed with the approach of your orgasm. Noticing the sensitivity of your walls to his every motion inside you, jolting and surging around him to bring his rhythmic rutting up into you to a jagged pattern, signalling the arrival of his own climax.

“Let go for me,” he commanded through a whisper, keeping his palms pressed to your abdomen and revelling in the strangled gasps you could no longer hold back, grinding your hips to ride through your high as he deftly painted your walls in staccato thrusts.

Filling the chamber with your mixed groans and deep pants as you slowed your motions above him, you couldn’t bear to move from atop Daemon for fear of losing the moment you shared. Instead, he gripped your hips and turned you onto the sheets, keeping his length buried within you as you lay beside each other.

“Gevie muña,” Daemon muttered under his breath as he reached to brush your silver hair from your face.

Beautiful mother.

~~All of me changed like midnight~~

It had taken you the best part of half an hour to muster the strength enough to heave yourself from the birthing chair. Propping yourself up on the fruit table stacked high with pomegranates, you gazed out from your Dragonstone chamber to the harbour beyond. The day was bright, gleaming, the waters mirroring the same blissful turquoise sky beneath which you used to read your books, drift off into fantastical realms and dismiss your own captivity as the Princess Regent with no responsibility and no freedom.

The Maester said your third birth would be easier than the initial two, but so far he had been proven catastrophically wrong. When sickness could not claim you, tiredness and weakness took hold. Days blended into each other, weeks dragged for months, your belly swelled overnight as you lay helpless in the birthing chair simply waiting for an end to the monotony of childbirth. After delivering Daemon two sons, you assumed your duty as a birthing mother had been fulfilled, yet another child swelled no sooner than the second had left your womb.

A pair of hands snaked around your hips to cradle your blossoming belly, fingers spread out over the span of the bump to feel every sensation beneath your skin. A chin rested in the crook of your neck and peppered lazy, haphazard kisses over your ear.

“Good morning, ñuha byka vēzos,” he cooed softly, his breaths warming your neck. My little sun. “You are not usually out of the chair so early, are you not well? Is our Prince keeping you from rest, little starling?”

You sighed as you dipped your head against his, placing your hands atop his as they surveyed your belly.

“I am quite well, husband,” you comforted him, tracing idle patterns over his hands, still as delicate as the day he first held you as a babe. “I’m always well when I am with you.”

Gazing out beyond the Dragonstone harbour, you could make out the faint outlines of the Red Keep from the safety of Daemon’s arms. Word from court suggested your father’s physical strength was at its last. Your mother sent a parchment requesting your presence but your husband intercepted it before it reached your hand, dismissing your concerns and reassuring that a raven would arrive at once if the King was indeed on his deathbed.

King’s Landing lay just beyond the dock, a symbol of the life you gave away for the sake of love. When you once believed you could never attain the love as told in literature, you failed to notice you had already fallen into such an affair. Persephone and Hades, the blinding sunshine tempted into the all-consuming darkness.

Such a pretty little songbird.

In such a pretty little cage.

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shadowshrike · 14 days

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Interfering with Halsin's Portal

It's pretty well known that there are a few situations you can get in where Halsin is well and truly angry rather than disappointed or worried, but I don't think a lot of folks know one of those situations is if you mess with his portal to the Shadowfell. It's a heartwrenching bit of acting. It's also fundamental to the plot of my in-progress fic Girdled Roots, so I figured I might share it with the other Halsin-lovers out there who have never seen it.

EDIT: Please be aware this is datamined dialog and may not be visible in game. It appears to be intended to trigger if the player attempts to enter the portal, which I don't believe is possible in the final game, or at least I couldn't find a way in the most recent version. Sharing this is simply to enjoy the incredible acting and get some plot bunnies moving, not to make any commentary about the game's canon.

Halsin's Initial Reaction

Halsin: No! Stop! Halsin: It's gone... that was our one chance. You've doomed this place to darkness! Halsin: I warned you - told you this was my burden to carry. Why didn't you listen?

The pure rage and despair is visceral. Prior to this, Halsin mentions this portal has been a century in the making, but he's so calm and measured (even upon success) that it is easy to dismiss just how much agony has plagued him as he hoped to make things right. This chance is everything to him. It has guided his every action for a century. It is a hundred years of work, prayer, and guilt to rectify the horrific fate of both land and people that came to nothing because a stranger he trusted refused to listen to him.

The portal breaking is the only time we hear Halsin speak the truth of its importance to him without a hint of emotional regulation. He is wild with pain. This man who is always thoughtful and slow to anger in the face of horror with the wisdom of age and suffering to guide him has become too overwhelmed to show any kindness.

Player response

The player is given several different ways to respond, and Halsin's reaction varies a surprising amount depending on how understandable their reason is. In most cases, he states that he needs to be alone afterward.

Option 1: I'm sorry - I acted on instinct. Halsin: Words won't repair what's been done to this land. Nothing will... I need to be alone.

You can hear the ache in Halsin's voice, but he's somewhat understanding of this response. He projects more sadness than unchecked rage. The player has admitted to making a mistake, and Halsin isn't the type of person who hold onto vengeance when an apology has been made, but he's not naive or people-pleasing enough to say "it's okay" or offer comfort either. The safest thing for everyone is for him to step away to grieve when there is nothing more to be done.

Option 2: I did all the work here - I couldn't just let you take the glory. Halsin: Glory?! There's no glory here. Now there's nothing here - only shadows and the total absence of hope. Halsin: There is nothing more to be said... I need to be alone.

Pure fury radiates from Halsin's response if the player focuses on the idea of being some grand hero rather than actually caring for the outcome. What the player did was an unforgiveable act, dooming everything that Halsin holds dear, and you have the audacity to complain about not getting glory from it. Again, he steps away, but this feels more like he's doing it because he believes you're worthless to reason with rather than because he needs a moment.

Option 3: I saved your grove - I figured it'd be best if I handled this as well. Halsin: We were this close to healing these lands. Now your arrogance has torn open the wounds once more. Halsin: There is nothing more to be said... I need to be alone.

Halsin is still frustrated with this response and unmistakably angry, but it's significantly toned down from the idea of wanting to go through the portal for glory. More like he thinks you're a self-important idiot than a truly terrible person.

Specialized player responses

There are also three special responses you can give if you have a particular class or diety.

Druid: I thought my powers were equal to yours. Halsin: It wasn't just power this needed - it was wisdom, understanding. I suffered along with this place for years trying to understand the curse... and it seems I will continue to do so. Halsin: There is nothing more to be said... I need to be alone.

Interestingly, he responds much more intensely to a druid than some of the other player choices. It might be in part because he feels like a druid should know better. He lectures the player like an Archdruid would initiates in his Grove, alternating between angry and explanatory, trying to get the player to understand why they were wrong and the sheer magnitude of their error. He ultimately ends in a much more resigned place here rather than personally resentful. Like a father-figure being forced through further life trials because of a child's foolish indiscretion. Frustrating, but inevitable.

Selunite: I trusted in Selûne to guide me through the shadows. Halsin: My friend - I wish you had trusted in me.

This is probably Halsin's most simple response with the least vitriol. He fully understands this answer, even if he's disappointed by it. The fact he calls the player 'friend' suggests a certain tired acceptance of this being a natural behavior for a Selunite trying to do good. We don't see this calm in other responses where Halsin was surprised by the player's choice.

Sharran: The Shadowfell is no place for non-believers - I couldn't allow you to soil it. Halsin: I should never have trusted an ally of the Dark Lady.

If you've ever taken Halsin along with Shadowheart in Act 2, then you know he is absolutely scathing toward her and her faith. He likely isn't as angry if a Sharran breaks the portal because it is utterly predictable. It merely confirms a truth he already knew and talked himself out of. That Sharrans cannot be fully trusted in matters of their goddess, even if one was good enough to rescue his people from the goblins.

#halsin #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #analysis

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snowblack-charcoalwhite · 1 month

Note

Could you do your own analysis abt what traits/behaviours Aegon and Aemond got from Alicent? They both took after her and it's insane

What a wonderful question! Thank you for it, and my apologies for the delay with answering - and for the direction the answer ended up taking (you might have meant some specific examples as opposed to the more general thing I`m about to offer).

I`d like to start with this:

It definitely doesn`t mean that I enjoy watching either of them suffer or wish torment upon them (especially given that Aegon and Aemond are my absolute faves and Alicent is among my top 5 HotD/F&B characters as well). What I do find fascinating is how all of them are enduring the pain: living it, transforming it and channelling it into the world with nothing but a look.

And I find just as interesting the way the mother and the sons express their feelings when their adversaries find themselves in a tight spot, in one way or another:

It`s definitely schadenfreude but one tinged with the sense of curiosity and slight disbelief, as in "Looks like you could have problems as well after all, huh?"

Сontinuing with this mother-children connection, it has to be said that Aegon and Aemond are absolutely self-sufficient characters with their own motivation and unique traits; but in some way they are also Alicent`s agents, the way she speaks with the world (just like in one sense or another sense all people are continuation of their parents - even if they never knew them its their absence that leaves an imprint on a person`s soul).

Aegon is the voice of her suffering.

(I`m all in for the theory according to which Aegon is a nail biter just as his mother is a nail picker - and these habits do not come from a happy place).

Aemond is the voice of her bitterness and rage.

It`s almost feels like emotion-wise Aegon resembles Alicent in static while Aemond represents her in dynamic.

And it`s heartbreaking to think that when both of them were dead Alicent once again had to lock all her pain and anger within herself - and those grew insurmountable over the course of the Dance and eventually drove her mad.

Additionally, it`s of interest to note that all three of them are driven by duty in one way or another - but they handle it differently.

Both Alicent and Aegon wear theirs like a royal chain around their neck (if S2 doesn`t show us Aegon embracing the burden of ruling, if only for the sake of his family, I`m ignoring it); but where Aegon doesn`t take his off because of being afraid something terrible will happen if he does, Alicent just can`t fathom doing it. This metaphorical chain has grown into her body and become an inalienable part of her.

And for Aemond duty is not a piece to wear but a weapon to wield. He is so aggressive about it (even if it`s passive aggression) that it almost feels like it`s a material object - and a quite sharp one, a worthy addition to the sword and the dagger.

I`m sorry if the answer`s turned out to be messy. I just have way too many feelings about this family:)

#asks #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #alicent hightower #the greens #team green

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pinkcowzz · 2 months

Text

something about tim & dick’s relationship makes me feel so. !!!

they are both such complex characters and it really makes my heart feel so heavy to think about them for too long.

like. dick created robin out of his parents blood. the costume was inspired by his family's colors. the name was one he was given by his mother and the only reason he took up the role was because he wanted to get justice (revenge really) for his parents death. he was taken in by bruce who was SO YOUNG at the time and who was still learning how to cope with his own loss still. their relationship was built off of that shared grief and understanding. but then one day, dick learned to let go of that grief. he was able to not let it consume and control him. and he grew tired of living in the dark nest that bruce built for them. and bruce doesn't know how to deal with someone else he loves leaving him so he kicks dick out. like yes bruce is dick's father figure of course he is. but he was also his brother in a weird way. dick didn't want or need for his parents to be replaced so bruce offered him something different. he offered him a partnership. and partners are supposed to be equal but somehow bruce ended up placing himself higher than dick and it was suffocating so he had to leave.

and in dicks absence, bruce finds another kid. this time, it's a kid who does need a parent. jason's relationship with bruce is so different than the one that dick had and i have to imagine that it hurt. it hurts to see your father be better for someone else. it makes you think why? why not me? why wasn't i good enough? and to make matters worse bruce gave away dick's blood without a second thought. jason is given the mantle of robin and my god i cannot imagine the pain it caused dick to see someone else flying around in his colors. that was his name. and dick is still just a kid. yeah he's like legally an adult but his prefrontal cortex was nowhere near developed. so he's bitter and short and rude to jason. he has to take time to get used to having another kid at the manor and another kid in his colors but its fine! its fine! he does come around eventually and his guard starts to come down and he commits to being there for jason. but it was too late. dick leaves the planet to be a hero and when he comes back? jason is dead. the kid he was just starting to get used to is dead.

not only is he dead, but he's already in the ground and bruce? bruce goddamn wayne didn't even bother to tell him. how in the world could bruce ever consider them partners. as far as dick was concerned bruce was just as good as dead to him as jason was. and it hurts. it hurts to not be able to go home without seeing the ghost of a kid you chose not to protect, the ghost of a kid who died too soon wearing the same colors that your parents died in.

so dick doesn't go home. he doesn't speak to bruce. he builds himself a new life, the teen titans become dicks home. and he's okay with this. his origin is so similar to bruce's but he refuses to be the same as batman. so he faces his ghosts. he doesn't let them haunt him. he hears about haly's circus potentially getting shut down and he goes to deal with it.

and here is where dick meets tim drake for the first time. tim who tried to help him save haly's circus (albeit he accused the wrong guy but he was trying). tim tells dick that he needs to save batman.

and so dick brings him back to the manor. where tim tells dick just how important he was to his childhood. tim explains how that night at the circus shaped him just as deeply as it shaped dick. tim shares this complete and utter faith in robin, as if robin is enough to save batman from his own grief. but dick knows this isn't true. dick was barely enough to save himself from his own grief much less bruces. but nonetheless bruce saved dick when he was at his absolute lowest. gave him something to believe in. so maybe, just maybe, he can try again for bruce. but not as robin. it can't be robin. his partnership with batman died when he was kicked out and it was buried when he was kept out of the loop about jason. but tim knows that batman needs more than nightwing by his side. so he takes up the robin mantle. he takes it upon himself to 'save' batman. and in a way, he does. he helps bring bruce back from the edge.

and dick. the last time someone took up his families colors, someone died. and he refuses to allow that again. he refuses to be the reason that tim suffers. so he becomes the older brother he couldn't quite bring himself to be for jason. and to tim? he's wearing the mantle of two robins on his back.

his own standards are set so high and he tries his damndest to meet them every time that he puts on the mask because he knows where the colors of the suit came from. he knows why dick created this identity. he was there. he saw the grayson's fall.

and for a while, things are good between them. things are great even.

then the attack at titan's tower happens. and tim is told that he is just a placeholder (not a replacement like fannon likes to claim, but the words jason todd used were placeholder). and seeds of doubt start to be planted. was he ever wanted? was he ever truly appreciated? he did steal the suit the first time he put it on. was it fair for him to wear the colors that were born of dicks blood and that jason died in?

then tim loses his whole support system. stephanie. bart and kon. his dad. and finally, bruce.

dick has been so committed to never being like bruce. he has been so dedicated to relying on those who offer him help. nightwing is pillar in the hero community, but batman. batman was the foundation. he is considered a founding member of the justice league. he doesn't want to take up the mantle. it had never been in his plans. but jason proved too unstable to take up the role and of course he can't ask tim to. so he dawns the cowl he has grown to hate.

this just leaves one little problem. damian.

damian who has just been dropped off on bruce's porch by talia. damian who grew up in the league of assassins and is so out of place in gotham that dick doesn't know what to do. he never asked to be batman and he definitely never asked to be a father. yet here he is. having to do both. so he does what bruce did all those years ago and provides damian with the mantle that he created in order to give this kid some sort of outlet. he knows damian needs it.

by some unfortunate twist of fate, dick has unknowingly created such a painful parallel between his own firing and tim's.

and then tim discovers that bruce isn't really dead.

and this kills dick just a little bit more. of course he wants to believe tim. of course he wants his dad back. he wants someone else to be the one to make these hard calls and he wants someone else to parent damian. he doesn't want to be the one who has to fire his little brother in order to save the other.

but he can't take that chance. he can't risk the hope. because losing it would actually ruin dick. so he tells tim it isn't possible. because to dick? it can't be possible.

and this just furthers the wedge between the two of them. tim feels abandoned and lost and he feels as if he has nothing left.

and dick doesn't understand why tim can't see that he's right here. he's right here tim i'm still here why aren't i enough for you to stay?

anyway this got away from me a little bit but god their relationship could make angels weep it truly makes my heart stop if i think about it too much.

#batman #tim drake #batfamily #batfam #dc comics #dick grayson #a lonely place of dying #red robin #sorry this is so long #i just have so many thoughts #they mean so much to me #tim and dick #nightwing #robin

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cemeteryspider · 15 days

Text

Lost and Found

Dick Grayson x Speedster! Reader

Summary: You and your sibling Wally West run to save the world, a trip neither of you return from. That is until you do.

*Gender, race, and sexuality is not specified for the reader, but is referred to as Wally's sibling- can be adopted, biological, or have a different dad or mom since the parents are divorced*

Trigger Warnings: Death, loss, and existential threats

Word Count: 2340

The Bioship was still hovering in the air as you and your team jumped out to witness the disruptor and the havoc it was wreaking on the planet. In a yellow flash, you saw who could only be Wally West running towards the chrysalis, and Artemis in your ear saying something about Wally running off.

With a sudden realization sinking into your stomach, you pulled Dick down to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"Back in a flash, Wing," You whispered in his ear.

You let go of Dick's hand and within milliseconds you were running alongside Uncle Barry, Bart, and Wally.

~~~

You never quite left the superhero scene, mostly helping other heroes with their work when need be. It wasn't that you couldn't become a fully fledged superhero in your own right with the action figures and lunch boxes, but that your life had changed.

You helped train the new heroes who lived at Mount. Justice. You helped them with focus and combat exercises, and allowed them to lean on your shoulder when things got difficult because of course things got difficult when you're dealing with hormonal teenagers who just so happen to have super abilities.

Despite the same lightning strike giving you the same powers as your brother, your powers didn't cause you any pain. So it came as a shock to you when Wally announced his retirement. When Wally left the superhero life for good, you felt lost and hurt. The one person you shared everything with decided to leave you behind.

Luckily, Dick Grayson, someone who knew what you were going through with Wally, stepped in. That's how you and Dick became close friends. You were both the leaders of Young Justice in Kaldur's absence. Finding yourselves alone with the only other person you age being Dick, well lets just say it wasn't a surprise to the team when you announced that you were together.

You allowed Wally back into your life, and allowed him to explain his departure. You felt like a jerk for distancing yourself, and turning away when he needed your support the most. Still he forgave you without a second thought. You and Wally would hang out on a near daily basis nowadays.

Then the Reach and the Light showed up. Regardless of how you felt, you participated in the cover up of Artemis' death. Wally didn't take her death well, her actually being alive well, or your or Dick's involvement in the matter well. Eventually reaching better terms once Kaldur and Artemis were able to stop the Reach and the Light.

That's how you made it here. With your relationship with Wally on the mend, you were running to counter the distributor that endangered Earth and all of its inhabitants.

So you kept running.

"Y/n get out of here! It's dangerous" Wally yelled at you, the high speeds distorted his words along with the disruptor.

"No four speedsters are better than three Walls!" Despite the yelling from your brother and uncle, you kept running.

You were a little faster than Wally, but still slower than the Flash and Impulse. You let yourself fall back to Wally's speed, and nodded at him with solidarity. You kept running.

Each pass around the disruptor you looked at Dick. You wanted to run into his arms and let him take the weight off your sore legs, but you couldn't leave. Then a shock was sent down your spine. You stumbled a little bit but kept running nonetheless.

You and Wally looked at each other and with each hit the chrysalis had on you the slower the two of you became. Still you both ran, you ran so that the world wouldn't be destroyed.

Barry looked at the two of you with worry in his eyes, despite being related by marriage he sometimes acted like the two of you were his own kids. Which was only strengthened when you both moved in with him and Iris after your parents divorced. He taught you both how to run.

The chrysalis continued to dispel its energy onto the two of you. You and Wally were fading from existence, and Barry reached out to you, his hand passing through your shoulder. You kept running.

"It's no good Barry" You looked at Wally and took his hand in yours, "Artemis is so gonna kill me, and don't even get me started on Mom and Dad"

You and Wally shared a knowing look. Neither of you were going to make it out of this. The damage had already been done. So you kept running together.

"Just tell them okay," You said to Barry as you and Wally faded from time and space.

~~~

Nightwing could faintly hear Jaime talking, something both him and you knew to be his scarab.

"Cease? Cease what?" He yelled.

Before Nightwing could work up the courage to ask what he was talking about the chrysalis retreated and left behind a cloud of disrupted snow.

Dick started running towards where the chrysalis used to be and allowed the snow to settle.

When it finally did the team could only see two speedsters in the aftermath. Miss. Martian and Kaldur helped them up while both he and Artemis frantically looked around the open space.

"Wait. Where's Wally?" Artemis shouted before Dick could even think to string together a sentence.

"Artemis, Dick, they wanted me to tell you-" Artemis interrupted him with denial, "they loved you both"

Artemis fell to the ground, and Dick swayed a little before falling to his knees as well. He knew he should be crying, but nothing was coming out. All he could do was hold the hand you were holding minutes ago and stare and where you were just running.

~~~

Dick thought about that day a lot. He dreamt about it. He dreamed of everything he could have done to stop you or keep you from seeing Wally risk his life. In every scenario you ran anyway.

Everything reminded him of you, but for some reason places you went to together pulled him close and tortured his proximity with the memory of you.

Nightwing sat on the rooftop of your old apartment building in Blüdhaven where, when you lived there, he ended up spending most of his time. Now it was inhabited by a couple with a baby, and he imagined his life if you hadn't disappeared years earlier.

After a long while, he allowed himself to continue his patrol, and ended on his fire escape and let himself in. Flopping on his bed after shedding his suit and falling asleep immediately. He didn't even hear his Justice League comm going off.

~~~

A loud slamming knock woke him up from his sleep, and a quick glance at his alarm clock let him know he was only asleep for a couple hours.

The knocking on his door got more frantic very quickly and he silently hoped that his neighbors wouldn't report him for the noise.

Tim stood on the other side of the door in his civilian clothes looking a bit out of breath.

"Tim? Is everything okay?" Dick tried to take his arm to pull him inside but Tim's feet stayed planted firmly on the ground.

"No. We've been trying to reach you for hours. You need to come with me" His sentence was interrupted by his gasping for air.

"Okay Tim. Let me just get a shirt on and we'll go"

Soon they were off, and when he got to the ground floor he saw Alfred parked out front.

"Hello Master Dick"

"Hey Alfred, where are we going"

"I think Master Bruce is the better choice for an explanation"

The ride to a zeta tube was quiet with Tim glancing at him several times in the rearview mirror. When in the zeta tube Dick and Tim were transported to the Watchtower, and with still no idea of why he was being brought into space.

Everything that involved someone needing League help was quickly shot down by Tim being the one to get him.

Batman was standing at the zeta tube waiting for them, and for a split second Dick thought he should have been wearing his suit. Bruce took his arm and guided him to the med bay.

"Dick, I wouldn't have called you here if someone else could confirm this, but I think in this case you're the best one to do this"

"Wait, what am I even doing here, no one has explained anything to me" Dick stopped right in front of the emergency doors and made Bruce look at him.

"Dick, we think that Kid Flash and Red Rapid survived the chrysalis, and somehow made it back here. We received a distress call from the North Pole late yesterday, and we brought them back here" Bruce tried to calmly explain this to him without overwhelming him, but he wasn't sure there was a way to do that.

"So you're saying that they are behind those doors. You're saying that my best friend and my partner are behind those doors after we buried them years ago. Mourned them?" His voice cracked by the end of his small speech. Both Tim and Bruce put a hand on his shoulder, and allowed his tears to fall.

After a few minutes Dick wiped his face and prepared himself for seeing the two people he loved most in the world other than his family. A little push of the door revealed two hospital beds, one with the red-head who he called his best friend, and the other with his partner who was sound asleep, surely exhausted from whatever journey they had gone through to get back.

"Dick?" Wally's voice was almost a whisper and Dick walked over to his bed stopping just before he reached out to touch him.

Quickly Wally grabbed Dick's hand and pulled him into a warm embrace, "I missed you so much Wally. I missed you so much" again the tears began to flow.

"I missed you too man, can you call Arty please I miss her too" Dick pulled himself away from him and gave him a nod.

With a squeeze of Wally's shoulder he went out the doors and asked Tim to call Artemis, and was notified that she was already on her way.

Going back to tell Wally he told Dick, "Go to Y/n, they need you more than I do"

The moment he was dreading came. Still this was the moment he hoped for since the day of your death. He sat in the leather chair next to your bed and gently shook your shoulder. Your eyes fluttered open like they would if it was a movie and you looked into his gorgeous icy blue eyes.

"Hey, handsome, you come here often", the joke left your lips and immediately his lips were on yours. Your arms found your place around his neck and pulled him as close as humanly possible.

"Babe", another kiss to your forehead, and you slid over to make room for him on the bed where he happily sat and snuggled up close to you, "Things just haven't been the same without you"

"Tell me all about it honey, I want to know everything about you" You looked into his eyes and allowed your nose to touch his.

"Maybe later, I just want to hold you, and never let you go"

Your forehead pressed against his and you allowed yourself to relax. Soon you would discuss what you both experienced but right now, holding each other was enough.

~~~

After a lot of tests the League let both you and Wally leave the Watchtower as long as Dick and Artemis looked over you. On your way back to his apartment, where you agreed would be the best place for you to be, he wanted to make a quick stop.

You zeta'd to the Mount. Justice where the lights were dark, and Dick took your hand in his.

"Now I wanted to ask you a long time ago, but I figured we could start where we left off, you know with the romance stuff. Hit the lights Gar!"

The lights came on and the mountain came alive. Most everything was the way you left it, only newer appliances and a ton of renovations. Maybe if you squinted a few more holes in the wall.

As the fairy lights illuminated the walls, you couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia wash over you. The faces of the young heroes you trained, now grown into their own, the old Young Justice team, and your mentors were all gathered around. You looked to Dick to ask what was going on, but when you looked over you had to look to the ground where he was kneeling.

"I know we have a lot to talk about and work out, but there is no one who I would rather spend the rest of my life with", He met your eyes and opened the little box in his hands. A small shiny ring glimmered inside the velvet box, "would you do me the honor of being marrying me"

A couple of blinks and a second of silence later, "Yes! Of course I'll marry you", Suddenly Dick stood up and wrapped his arms around your waist and twirled you around in a circle. Once he set you down, he placed the ring on your finger and kissed your lips.

You dashed over to Wally, Bart, and Barry and gave them the biggest hugs. Barry held onto you for a long moment, despite seeing you very soon after you got to the Watchtower emotions were still high and he wanted to make sure you weren't going to dematerialize again.

You hugged all the kids, who were now young adults, and allowed your tears to flow down your cheeks. Though with the huge smile plastered on your face no one was confused about what you felt in this moment. You decided it was time to stand still for a little while.

~~~~~

Author's Note: The ring was in fact his mother's. I've read that some Romani people burn their loved ones belongings once they die but I think that they would give the rings to Dick to use as his own ~If anyone knows if this is true please let me know!

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson fanfiction #nightwing #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #nightwing x y/n #wally west #kid flash #justice league #barry allen #dc impulse #dc comics

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fabulouslyflamboyant5 · 2 months

Text

The Unrighteous Knight Part 2

pairing: azriel x second archeron sister!reader

summary: After the events that occurred between Azriel and you, nothingness seems rather appealing. (Also some insight into readers past, and how becoming fae has affected them)

warning: su**ci*al thoughts, canon typical violence, nesta slander…inner circle slander?

word count: 1.3k

a/n: Sorry for delay, my drafts got deleted! This chapter is a little slow, but necessary for character development. Turns out, reader isn’t such a meek character after all…

Part One Part Two Part Three

To be, or not to be.

That is the question. The simple question, as mortals would insist. But what hold do the claws of mortality have upon an immortal being? How far must a cauldron made fae go to completely rid themselves of their humanity, with no guarantee that they will find solace in immortality?

Nowhere.

That is the answer, the simple answer your youngest sister and her dashing mate insist upon.

You must go nowhere, because simply put, the act of searching for serenity is sure to attract confusion.

But the answer is surely not so simple. Is nowhere not anywhere when you have been dragged to a land different from the one you’d grown to love?

The soil of Prythian feels foreign beneath your feet. Then again, your own skin feels foreign against your blood, which feels volatile within your soul.

Prythian, the continent home to Feyre Cursbreaker, Lady Death, and the most beautiful of the three sisters, Elain, cannot possibly be home to you, (y/n) Archeron, the sister who stands out for no reason other than her own lack of brilliance.

While the cauldron may have lent your younger sister the power of a seer, you were left with nothing.

Not brave enough to take it for yourself, you have come to terms with the fact that you are once again, left behind.

The forgotten sister. Perhaps that is what you are. What you always have been.

They insist that this is your home, that Velaris will bathe you in its light and rid you of your struggles. But you have found that you quite hate the light. It is darkness that you seek. It is nothingness you yearn for, the absence of everything in its entirety.

You try not to let these thoughts fester for too long.

Writing, for all you know, is the only way to remedy the situation. After all, it is considerably easier to distract yourself when you have something to look forward to.

Something that you enjoy.

Perhaps it is the nothingness within your leather bound notebook that brings you peace. The unfilled pages are not lonely, but instead, freeing.

The cruelty of your reality leaves no mark on the pages of your worn book. Nothingness, or in this case, fiction, is all that lines its pages.

Stories of the past, present, and future are maimed into something foreign. You are the narrator, you are the creator, you are in control.

Control.

That is your answer. Supplied by none other than yourself, of course.

It is control you seek. The ability to lead a life you choose, without ever having to bow down to forces external to your own psyche.

Forces beyond the harsh stare of Azriel, the Night Court's Shadowsinger, and the bane of your eternal existence.

In the many years you’ve known him, he has never failed to remind you just how deep his hate for you went. Like a raft sailing down an empty river, your efforts to mend your relationship are continuously shut down.

Not that any of it matters, not anymore.

The second his blade made contact with your abdomen you knew, just knew that the two of you would never make peace.

Even now, days since the incident, a phantom pain remains, pulsing within the thin scar below your left rib.

It’s frustrating really, how do you move on from something you never want to forget?

Staring down at the tea stained pages of your journal, you let the question linger.

A whole bunch of nothing.

That is the answer you arrive at.

It should be familiar now, this nothingness within you. This nothingness you embody.

Your sisters, bless them, will never grasp the emptiness that resides within you. But how could they, for all they know you appreciate solitude, find serenity in the freedom this world has provided you.

But it is not freedom you embody, it is loneliness; nothingness in its purest form.

“What is it exactly you are working on?” Nesta’s cool voice asks you. Had you not known her better, you’d surely mistaken her inquiry for judgment. But you do know her, so you send her a hum too weak to be mistaken for one of contentment and forbid your eyes from leaving the shadow filled paper below you.

“Nothing,” you are working on absolutely nothing.

Had you looked up, you would have seen the two cups of tea in her hands.

Had you looked up, you would have seen the sheer weight of determination resting on her shoulders.

Had you looked up, perhaps the shadows moving slowly across your hands would have stopped their movements and removed themselves from your proximity.

But alas, your eyes remain on the dark creatures, hoping, praying, that they leave the library and take your loneliness with them.

“I know what you're doing,” she spoke once more, clearly set on making her presence felt.

“And what may that be?”

“You’re overthinking,” she moves across the shelves, elegantly placing herself onto one of the cushioned chairs in front of you.

“I can assure you, that is not the case.” Nothing, that is what you are doing, and have been doing since you were forced upon this planet.

“Come back to the training ground tomorrow, I’d like for you to be there,” her voice is sincere but it is dissatisfaction that overtakes you. Of course that is what this is about. You’re foolish for assuming she had come here with the answers to the questions you seek.

“I’ll consider it,” you say dryly, reverting back to the page below you, noticing the shadows have seemingly disappeared.

Whether or not Nesta is satisfied with your response means nothing to you.

It means nothing, really.

Nothing does.

“I don’t think he meant it.” And so Lady Death strikes again. As is if her words tore open your jugular, you find yourself recoiling into the chair. Of course she would think that, it’s not as though she were present to witness the hatred in his eyes, the malice within him as he raised his sword, the eagerness of his actions against the vulnerability of your torso.

“Oh?” The paper crinkles under your tight fist, its sound serving as a reminder of your demeanor.

“He was wrong to do what he did. He hurt you and I hate him for that,” she halts, carefully thinking of what to say, “That said, I don’t believe he meant to hurt you. Had he known your skills in combat, I think the situation would have been avoided.”

It’s your fault really, you should have guessed as much. The path of wrongness will always lead back to you. You shouldn’t have expected Nesta, of all people, to see through the situation.

“I’ll see you on the training grounds before sunrise tomorrow, because from what I am gathering, I cannot trust anyone here to not kill me if I don’t refine my skills.”

For a moment, guilt can be found on the face of your sister, though it is quickly replaced by something akin to anger.

Looking as though she intends to say more, Nesta rises from her chair and makes her way towards you. You find comfort in this, it reminds you of home, or something that once was home.

“If you despise your life that much then perhaps it is best you leave.” Too far, she’d gone too far. In typical Nesta fashion, she expresses her guilt through absence. The two filled tea cups serve as the only indicator she had even been present.

This is on you, completely your fault. You dared to welcome presence into nothingness and allowed for tension to fester. How foolish you were.

So with that, you begin to write.

tags: @sidthedollface2 @marvelouslovely-barnes @impossibelle @chessebookgirl

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riayawrites · 25 days

Text

Something Different ~

Pairing: Archeron!reader x Azriel

Summary~ When reader gets dropped into the cauldron they emerge as something different and ancient, As they struggle with fae life and their new body she learns that maybe she isn't alone in her battles.

Content Warning: mentions of trauma, depression, ed, fluff and trauma-bonding

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I knew my life was over the moment me and my sisters were forced out of our newly made home by brutal force, and dragged into another land.

The first few minutes of the cauldron were somewhat... peaceful. A stark contrast to the screams of my sisters and her faerie companions. The dark muddled water seemed to become light and airy and warm as I forcefully was thrown into the ancient, deceitful thing. Not like I decided to put up much of a fight anyways, at that moment I chose to let the cauldron invade my body and mind. It's not like it mattered anyways. As the cauldron sensed my relent towards its actions it decided to make things worse; ten-fold. A sharp piercing pain ripped its way through my torn and battered nightgown and all through my back, it was truly a pain like no other, the sounds of bone breaking and skin tearing sent me over and I lost conscience in a blink of an eye.

"She's been out for so long.." I distinctly hear as I awaken from my week - no probably month slumber since the cauldron. I open my eyes and squint from the warm beaming sun on my skin and the soft cotton sheets on the rather large bed I am resting on. I turn my head and open my mouth to speak yet no words come out.

A while goes by of me staring at the ceiling in silence before a figure comes into sight. "I see you are up miss." I turn my head to the side to see a tall woman with skin as dark as the night sky, with ears pointed and long with cascading black hair. She was truly a sight. I finally say my first word "Where am I.." I ask in my dazed confusion and slight emptiness. "You are in High Lord Rhysand's town house in the Night Court miss." "Your sisters and the others are all downstairs if you wish to join them I will help you ready." I take heed of the mention of my sisters and a great wave of relief washes over me when I realize all 3 of my sisters are safe. Ive always been the caring and nourishing one of all my sisters, being the 2nd eldest daughter I stepped in and took on a role of a mother in the absence of our own. My duties all arranged from making sure our old cabin stayed together by cooking and cleaning and even taking desperate jobs in town to make a pitiful income for my father and sisters to survive. In my spare time I loved to bake, but that was before we lost our fortune. My main hobby became singing as that was a way to express myself without it costing.

I gently arise from the bed with the help of Nuala- as she calls herself. My first steps in months to the bathing area and I realize something is off.. My steps glide almost gracefully and I seem to be, lighter and smoother with my motions. As I get to the bathroom I take a look in a full length mirror in my bathing quarters as I gasp as I see what is staring back at me.

I look in the mirror to see a beautiful fae woman with pointed ears and locks of long healthy hair that seemed to grow down to my lower back. I take a closer look at my body just to admire it, I've never been a bone skinny girl even when we were poor, always having curves on my hips and slight hourglass figure and fuller breasts compared to the women in my village. But now those features are gracefully implicated and only seem to heighten my new body. I hear Nuala compliment me and start to run water for me to get into and wash.

After a few minutes of an annoying bath with painful reminders of the cauldron, I'm faced with tons of beautiful dresses sparkling and shining each one better than the other. I choose a shimmering black off the shoulder long sleeve mermaid dress that was comfortable to walk in and has soft material. I sit at the large vanity whilst Nuala brushes my long wavy hair and pins it to the side, letting it freely fall down my sides. I take one final look in the mirror and mentally prepare myself for whats awaiting down at dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My chest feels heavy and my steps dragged as I walk down the many steps of the town house, taking my sweet time to admire my sisters many paintings carefully hung on the walls of the house. I hear chatter and laughs coming from the dining area as I make my way down. I step into the light of the dining area, an aura of glitter and.. light? seeping from my pores and around me. All conversation stops and heads turn my way while I assess the room.

There's my sister, Feyre and her husband Rhysand. A smile graces the corner of my mouth before I drop it and look at everyone else. It's a beautiful fae woman with curled blonde hair and striking blue eyes near Cassian; the war general. I believe her name is "Morrigan". I see a pair of captivating dark blue eyes staring at me almost assessing me in a way that makes me avert my eyes from his gaze.

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AN- sorry to end like this lol first fic, planning on making more parts with her power

#azriel shadowsinger #az x reader #feyre archeron #nesta archeron #acotar #acosf #acomaf #acowar #elain archeron #rhysand #cassian #amren acotar

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mynicosensesaretingling · 5 months

Text

Lost in the moment (part 2)

Nico Rosberg x fem!reader

Summary: After their friendship ended unexpectedly, Nico and (Y/N) continued their lives on different paths, but what happens when they meet again? (part 2 of 2)

Warnings: Once again a little angst, female reader

Note: I was honestly surprised how well the first part of this fic was received. Thank you all so much for your feedback!

(part 2 of 2)

Find part 1 here: https://www.tumblr.com/mynicosensesaretingling/733720166569033728/lost-in-the-moment-part-1?source=share

Hope you enjoy <3

The years that followed were a relentless storm for both Nico and (Y/N), each navigating their separate paths with the ghost of their past lingering.

Nico’s championship victory and the soon-following retirement propelled him into the dazzling spotlight of Formula 1, becoming a charismatic figure both on and off the race track.

However, the memory of that final race continued to linger in the back of his mind, a bittersweet victory tainted by the absence of someone he had considered a confidante. Someone he had loved. Of course, he had seen the notifications of her calls once the celebrations had stopped. But whereas at first, he didn’t call her back simply out of spite and having been hurt, the more time went by, the more he feared actually hearing her speak his suspicions of having been betrayed into existence.

Meanwhile, (Y/N) on the other hand, had to face the daunting task of fighting her way back into the world of reporting. Having lost her job at Countdown Magazine , the young woman found herself feeling lost in the working world. The void left by Formula 1 was a constant ache, a reminder of the dreams she once had to forfeit and the pain of not having been there for Nico during his triumphant moment was an emotional wound that refused to heal, casting a lingering shadow on her achievements. However, she found that her luck hadn't completely run out, for after a few unsuccessful jobs, she was offered a position as a reporter for a small, upcoming motorsport journal called The Racing Project.

Although over the years both Nico and (Y/N) followed a similar career path, their paths did not actually cross until the much-anticipated Las Vegas Grand Prix.

The stage was set, the racetrack buzzing with fervour, as Nico stood filming a live segment in the paddock, delivering his commentary with practised ease. The cameras captured every word he spoke, but his mind was elsewhere. As he scanned the crowd, his eyes unexpectedly fell upon a familiar figure- (Y/N).

Time seemed to halt, the cacophony of the racing world drowned by a flood of memories and emotions. Nico’s heart quickened its pace, a turbulent storm surging within him. The very sight of his former friend, after all these years, sent his thoughts spiralling into a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

The ex-racer stumbled over his words, a subtle tremor in his voice betraying the storm of emotions raging inside him. “And…and as we witness this….um, remarkable race unfolding before us,” he managed to continue, though the words suddenly felt foreign on his tongue.

Nico couldn’t tear his gaze from (Y/N)’s form, caught between the past and present. The weight of their shared history bore down on him, each moment they had shared flashing through his mind like a movie reel. His eyes conveyed a mixture of surprise, longing and a hint of regret for the years of silence, that had separated them.

The subtle changes in Nico’s demeanour didn’t go unnoticed by the camera and crew. His usual composed demeanour wavered, a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability surfacing in his eyes. The inner conflict that churned within him was evident to those who knew him well, a battle between the duties of the present and the ghosts of the past.

As the blond shrugged to maintain his composure, the words of the commentary became a blur as the realization that (Y/N) was back in his life hit him. He tried to regain his focus, attempting to steer the commentary back on track, but the presence of (Y/N) in the crowd continued to pull at the threads of his composure.

It wasn’t until the segment was finally finished, that Jenson, who had moderated the segment along with Nico and was well aware of the history between him and the female reporter, leaned in and whispered, “I didn't know that (Y/N) is working as a Formula 1 reporter again after her sudden release just before your championship race.”

Jenson’s statement led revelation to hit Nico like a tidal wave. The pieces of the puzzle all of sudden fell into place, and the weight of misunderstanding and regret bore down on him. “Excuse me.” Nico stuttered out, freeing himself of the broadcasting equipment before hurriedly plunging into the bustling crowd, determined to confront the past.

Rushing past crew members and paddock guests, his blue eyes scanned the crowd with restlessness before finally landing on the all-too-familiar shape of (Y/N).

“(Y/n),“ he called out, his voice carrying the echoes of years of silence.

Upon hearing his voice call out to her, the woman turned, eyes widening in surprise, before narrowing again in anger. The air around them was suddenly buzzing with the electricity of unspoken words and unresolved feelings. “Nico,” she replied coldly, her voice betraying a simmering anger beneath the surface.

Nico took a cautious step closer, the atmosphere fraught with tension. “I…I didn’t know. I thought you used me for stories. I didn’t know what happened that day.” his words came out rushed, as he struggled to keep up with his own thoughts. Lifting her chin, (Y/N) crossed her arms, a defensive gesture as she glared at him. “Well, glad you’ve figured it out by now.” her voice cut through the noise of the racetrack. “I lost my job, Nico. I lost everything I had worked for, and you didn’t even bother to hear me out. You think an apology fixes this?”

Nico reached for (Y/N)’s hand, a silent plea for understanding and forgiveness. “My mind was too clouded by the fact that you weren’t by my side during my victory, to be able to think rationally. I should have known.” he tried to explain himself, voice haunted by the regret of misplaced assumptions.

(Y/N) pulled her hand away from his grasp, a scoff escaping her lips. “Known? I would’ve never expected you to just know. But you should have asked, Nico. You didn’t give me a single chance to explain myself. Instead, you just disappeared.” with the last word, she jabbed an angry finger at his chest.

Nico opened his mouth to respond, but (Y/N) cut him off “ You don’t get to just waltz back into my life after all these years and expect everything to be okay. You have no idea what it was like for me, losing my job and feeling abandoned by my best friend.”

The man’s face fell, the reality of the pain he had caused written across his features. “(Y/N),please. I didn’t know the truth, and I-”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, her voice sharp.”You didn’t bother to find out. You just assumed the worst, and I won’t just forget that.”

The tension between them was palpable as they stood there, the racetrack humming with the distant roar of engines. Whereas (Y/N)’s eyes held a mixture of anger and hurt, Nico felt the weight of his past choices pressing down on him. The heavy silence between them was once again interrupted by her voice, the anger now morphed into frustration. “You made your choice back then.” She sounded defeated. Nico struggled to find the right words, his chest tight with regret. “I messed up. I should have trusted you, and I’m sorry.”

Unwilling to meet his gaze, (Y/N) turned away. “Sorry doesn’t erase the past, Nico. I don’t need your apologies now, I got work to do.”

The gravity of her words hung heavily between them.Once determined to seek reconciliation, Nico faced the consequences of his assumptions.The racetrack, witness to their shared highs and lows, now became a battleground for a different kind of race- a race against time to repair the fractured bond between them. As they lingered in the charged silence, a new layer of tension emerged. The unspoken truth of feelings that had never found a voice in the past now hovered between them. They had danced around something more profound than friendship, an undercurrent of emotions that had remained buried.

Deciding to try a different approach, Nico’s tone softened. “Remember that night when I waited for you in the pouring rain?”

As she turned back around to him (Y/N)’s eyes flickered with curiosity, a hint of vulnerability breaking through her defensive stance. “What?”

Nico’s eyes nervously searched hers, an unsure, almost shy smile on his lips. “I stole that umbrella from Toto and to this day I am unsure of whether I was more nervous about waiting for you or the possibility of Toto finding out I was the reason he got drenched to the bone.”

A breathless chuckle broke through her frown, the sound like music to Nico’s ears. “You stole an umbrella from your boss, just so you could go on a walk with me?” her voice was laced with amusement and disbelief. “Mhm,” he hummed in response, his smile widening into a grin, blue eyes sparkling as he thought back to that very evening. “I actually hid around a corner for like 10 minutes, because I could hear how on edge he was, asking crew members about where his umbrella went.” A genuine laugh escaped (Y/N) at that, eyes glistening as she was hit by a wave of nostalgia. There was another moment of silence between the pair, although this time it felt more intimate.

“You know that when it came to us it was never about the job right?” her voice was barely louder than a whisper and if Nico hadn’t already been paying such close attention to her, he would have surely missed it.

His eyes bore into (Y/N)’s, the weight of her words sinking in. The revelation hung in the air, an unspoken truth that had shaped their past interactions. With her vulnerability laid bare, (Y/N) waited for Nico’s response, the air heavy with anticipation. In that moment the racetrack seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of them suspended in an emotional crossfire.

Nico, grappling with the unexpected confession, searched her eyes for clarity. The realization hit him like a thunderbolt. Their unspoken connection had always transcended the confines of a professional relationship, a truth buried beneath the surface of camaraderie and shared passion for Formula 1.

Studying his face, (Y/N) could watch as a myriad of emotions played across Nico’s face- surprise, regret and a hint of realization.

“(Y/N)”, he murmured, his voice tinged with astonishment and understanding, as his brain struggled to find the right words.

The woman’s gaze wavered, and she nodded, a mixture of sadness and acceptance in her eyes. “You were so focused on the rivalry and the championship, that I didn’t want to complicate things. I thought, maybe one day…” Her voice trailed off, leaving the unspoken “one day” hanging in the air.

Nico’s mind raced, grappling with the weight of missed opportunities and the realization of their connection has been far more profound than he had ever comprehended. “I had no idea. If I had known, I would have-” She cut him off, a bittersweet smile on her lips. “It’s in the past Nico. We can’t change it now.” Shaking his head, the blond reached out, tentatively taking (Y/N)’s hand and this time she allowed their fingers to intertwine, a silent acknowledgement of the emotions that had lingered, unspoken for years. “(Y/N), I wish I had known. I wish I had seen it then.” She met his gaze, the raw honesty of the moment reflected in her eyes. “We were caught in the whirlwind of the Silver War, and I didn’t want to be another distraction.”

Nico’s thumb gently traced circles on the back of her hand, as his gaze locked onto hers. “You were never a distraction, (Y/N).” Nico’s voice was stern. “If anything, you were the constant that I failed to appreciate.”

As they found themselves standing at the crossroads of what could have been and what might still be, their hands lingered together, a silent testament to the depth of their connection. The unspoken feelings that had been tucked away for years now demanded recognition, weaving an intricate tapestry of emotions.

Nico took a step closer, his heart pounding with a mixture of uncertainty and hope. “Do you think we could start over…try to make up for the time we lost?”

(Y/N) looked up at him, eyes meeting his, and he thought to see a flicker of hope in their depths. “Nico-” she sighed clearly conflicted “It’s not that simple. We’ve both changed.”

He nodded a sense of gentleness in his understanding gaze. “I know, but what if we explore what we have now?” he leaned in a little closer, hand reaching up to gingerly cradle her cheek. “Let’s start from here, from this moment. Forget the misunderstandings, the lost chances and see where this takes us.”

The warmth and sheer softness of his touch seemingly eased the mental conflict within (Y/N)’s mind and a tentative smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Will you steal another umbrella from Toto?” her question was accompanied by a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

The suddenness of her request made Nico knit his brows in confusion. Taking a second to process the question, this time it was him, who laughed in disbelief.

"Yes.” he chuckled, thumb tracing her cheekbone, loving eyes studying her face as to memorise every single feature. “I'd happily steal yet another one of Toto's umbrellas for you." Underneath his gentle touch, Nico could feel her timid smile grow into a cheeky grin. "Well, then I am happily willing to give us a second chance."

As they stood there, enveloped in each other’s presence, the soft glow of the racetrack’s lights painted their faces in a warm hue, mirroring the warmth that radiated between them. “I never thought I’d feel this way again,” Nico admitted, gaze still fixed on (Y/N) as if she held the answers to questions he’d never dared to ask.

“I’ve missed this” he muttered softly “Talking to you, being here, it feels like coming home.” (Y/N) felt the words dancing on the tip of her tongue but unable to escape. Her heart fluttered as she realized there were no words adequate to convey how she felt. With a quiet resolve, she slowly leaned in, breath mingling with his. Nico’s eyes widened slightly in surprise before softening, understanding dawning upon him. Time seemed to pause as her lips met his in a tender, feather-light kiss. It was a silent confession and a promise for the future.

Drawing back, a rosy hue dusted (Y/N)’s cheeks and if her heart hadn’t already been racing before, it certainly was now upon seeing the lovesick smile on Nico's face.

“Welcome home, Nico.”

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overtaken-stream · 2 months

Text

Where On3 Will St4nd

King The Wildfire x F!Lunarian!Reader

100+ Followers Special!! I APPRECIATE YOU GUYS SO MUCH! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT! THANK YOU GUYS FOR THE SUPPORT!! <3 (This was posted so late oml) This bad boy has been cooking in my drafts for close to a year and a half it feels like, it is very much burnt to a crisp. Thank you anon who asked me about King meeting another of his race! This would not be here without you <3

Also, sorry for the grammar mistakes, English isn't my first language.

word count: 8.9k

Warnings: incorrect cultural description(?)/practices(?), Self-harm(Burns), Imprisonment, Timeline is a mess don't come at me.

( The Land of a Demon )

Onigashima is an intimidating island; the smell of ash penetrates every corner of the scene where a battlefield will unfold. There are no flowers to add color to the brown mud and grey rocks, no snowflakes to grace the island or land on the red mist. The only thriving presence is the skull, where the fire emanates—the lair of a wrongdoer rotting and resting in this sinful place.

The skull, or rather, the rock resembling a creature much like the one on Thriller Bark—Oars, to be exact—was its name. But even he, the Junior, paled in comparison to the Skull Dome. No human could have sculpted it; giants, maybe, but even then, there are doubts.

It was formidable for you to step into the den of a beast earlier than expected, where you would be alone and defenseless. The dreadful aura the place is emitting is fitting for an Emperor of the sea. The deeper you went, the lighter you felt, the fearsome and overwhelming feeling was replaced by the intimidating, and may I say, strict walls you can find in the Wano Kuni, or the Flower Capital to be more exact, the only thing Onigashima lacks is the malnourishment that comes with Shoguns' rule, the exhausted faces of workers, the food prices and the dirtied outskirts. The separation of morals between the Wano Kuni and Onigashima shows clearly in the environment, it's like stepping into a completely different world, detached by the innocent victims who got birthed in this tangle of knotted rope, a mess, a sculptor done masterfully by manipulators of different social hierarchies. It's an art piece that took lives. A work in progress.

Their happiness depends on us. The ones who took it in the first place. The pirates.

We are the only people who bleed flames and light up the shadowed space that is Wano.

Soon.

...Soon.

After the worrying incident of the crew splitting apart yet again to get Sanji back and despite your worries for the polite cook- you were among the majority who continued traveling toward Wano. The plan was for you to become a Geisha working alongside Robin to get selected by the Shogun, but at last, the paths split and here you were in the den of beasts.

There was little chance of concealing your true identity in Wano; the absence of hair dyes posed a challenge. However, with strategic tying, the Obi belt effectively concealed the main factors that could give you away. The uncomfortable sensation is so familiar that you've learned to master not showing the everlasting pain on your face. The lightened makeup applied by the elderly further masks your skin, with red lips complementing your Obi and velvety gloves. The black hue of your flower kimono, snug tightly to your legs, hinders your pace, restraining you from keeping up with other women who, despite being more nervous, are less experienced in the field of treachery. Tonight, it will be challenging to differentiate professionals from novices, and you vow to take advantage.

The occasionally beautiful scenery inside the castle fails to comfort you amidst the fast-beating hearts; it is unsettling. The empty halls, guided by one of Kaido's puppets, make everyone dizzy with the maze-like walls—plain, hard to remember its turns.

In what way did the he turn last time?

The candles dwindle in plain sight as the floor creaks, accommodating the heavy steps of someone on the other side of the hallway. The sound becomes more vivid as it picks up pace, running past your group from the other side of the wall, capturing the attention of a soldier who turns and continues guiding with an anxious face.

It's only when the others, approximately ten pairs of feet, follow suit that you realize the commotion beside the separation. Judging by the soldier's expression, it seems to be a normal occurrence. However, you do not halt your steps; you continue to motionlessly follow, much like a sheep. It turns out the other women have the same idea.

There's an Oni free of its cage.

Debris falls from the shaking ceiling onto your shoulders. You wipe the black fabric clean, huffing as you quicken your pace, gently pushing the ladies to make way. The man, with spiky brown hair, takes another turn to the right this time.

``Sir, how far are you going to make us walk? Do you want us to be gasping for breath when we entertain our customers?`` You ask in a monotone voice, the impatience underlines your words, while your facial expression is the same as the one you entered with.

The soldier angles his neck to look up at you before his expression turns sour.

Lazy sons of bitches are too tired to answer a simple question. Tsk.

Your eye twitches as you await his answer. Not minding the spooked expressions of the ladies.

``Just above this floor.``

You only take your eyes off of him when the dark wood stairs come into view. It's been twenty years since the Beast Pirates invaded Wano Kuni and the history of Onigashima, they left a mark that will be impossible to remove. The residue of red that has maintained its place on the stairs is proof of that, who knows how many more illicit and barbaric things this place... This Country has witnessed. Who knows how many more will be lost.

Yet, people ignore it for their safety, geisha act no differently, even if they feel the warmth of a body no longer on the bottom of their okobo, they don't look down. For their security. Though you seem to be unable to look up, whoever the unfortunate victim was, you wish them a peaceful afterlife.

You hold in what anger you have, clenching your fists onto the sides of your kimono. There will come a time for you to spill it.

Soon.

...Soon.

A dreadful feeling emanates within the group, snapping you out of your daydreams. You didn't mean to get lost in your head, but the moment you let the fabric loose, the double door opens, and the women hurry their way to spots alongside every wall, unhappiness settling in their guts. They put their knees onto the soft purple cushions. Your eyes travel over the shamisen lying beside the cushion you were supposed to rest on. The three-stringed instrument you pick up seems to be brand new—unused and unprepared. However, even as you fix the strings, you feel relieved. Kyo Mai is a slow dance with complicated steps, and your confined wings always disturb your enactment. You were supposed to play the instrument and stay hidden among the performers, even with your snow-white hair and height.

The door opens right after everybody picks up their fans, you hid away in the background with the shamisen now in the proper hold.

(Away from the intimidating aura the girls seem to be spooked of. They don't break under the pressure. They repeat what was practiced.)

Here they come.

The All-Stars.

( Eyes That Follow )

From the three goliaths that were sitting and having an exchange, you've decided that Queen was the worst out of all of them. His immense and twisted pride shows even during his interactions with the women currently swarming his sides, the sadism that chokes the air out of every woman doesn't reach the beasts.

He calls it... “Flirting” it's not obvious to the naked eye but the girls feel uncomfortable, even when they smile, you can tell. It's for survival they smile. It's for survival they nod their heads as Queen throws compliments at a woman who isn't here. Komurasaki.

You feel sorry for the girl, to have Queen captivated was horrifying. You hold hope that Komurasaki will never meet him in person, even as your eyes continue to wander over Queen, for he, even if the filthiest of the All-Stars, was the most social one. A star scientist. It's when Queen starts practicing his singing talent that one of them calls.

``Oi.``

You straighten up. From on top Jack, The Drought looks down at you.

``Could you start the music already?`` His unreacting eyes only leave your face when you answer with an apology. It was obvious he was trying to silence Queen.

As you pull the shamisen closer to your body, you can hear the blond's offended complaints soon be replaced by the excitement when he realizes the Geishas' standings.

``Well, aren't you a beauty with white hair of yours, musician? Though no one will beat my Komurasaki! That bastard Shogun! Such a shame.``

You aren't sure what he pulls out of his pocket—a paper of some kind? A picture. You thought maybe some information would leak out of their mouths, yet the only conversations you hear are Queen's complaints and praises towards the women. Lost in your own mind, studies continue to mix. Is Kaido awarding his men before the festival? It seems unlikely, but unfortunately, that might be the case.

As you begin the melody of "Crane Wedding," there isn't another noise except Queen's malicious giggles interrupting you. That is until the sounds of squeaking leather picks up in the trapped room. You fix your eyes on the instrument while somebody else's eyes drill into your face, past your cosmetics and the flawless kimono. They don't move from your face; in fact, you might even think they are staring past your soul. You can feel their eyes travel to your neck, covered by the geisha's makeup. They stare, and you don't dare to look up meet meet them.

The pleasant music of yours doesn't halt as a geisha brings in the food, throwing a quick and nervous glance your way, but soon she too turns towards one of the three men who called her, leaving you alone with that crushing stare. The time stretches along with the performance; the short melody now feels like a loop of endless tactics put together. Lovely notes turn into a disgusting mess of mud inside your mind, plugging your ears and forcing you to hear the way your heart speeds up, noticing his eyes cling onto the darker color not peeking from under the makeup. You're nervous, as are the dancing geisha, whose only audience is Queen at this point. It's soon when the second, heavy pair of eyes turn towards you, but this one is much quicker to leave you be.

That must have been Jack.

King. He's the one that continues to stare.

The corner of your lips twitches after the realization. You try to keep away from falling and dissecting below his gaze. It lasts even after the dance was finished, his red eyes hold you hostage for the most part, even when you get up and do what your teacher, a sweet old lady has taught you.

It's fear, not of him, but rather afraid of him finding out what no outsider should know.

It's doubt, he is doubting you. Suspecting you, yet he asks no question. He only stares you down like a predator when you finally meet his crimson eyes. Your (E/C) eyes reflect his fully leathered top half.

You aren't afraid of him, no you can't be, you've faced many opponents in your 25 years of living, and you've gone through the suffering even the strongest men cannot withstand.

You are a Straw hat.

You are part of a future Pirate Kings crew. You cannot be intimidated by a mere second in command. You hold your head up high.

It turns out to be the right action that causes him to back down slowly, surely you are let go from the muddy waters.

( Eye to Eye )

The sunrise began as Jack got up, and soon Queen followed him. After his callouts to King, who threw an audible shut-up in his way but did not move from the spot he was standing, Queen wasn't convinced until Jack bulldozed through the door opening and intentionally dragged Queen out of the way.

The poker face you've kept up so far slips when King calls every woman out of the room except you. You can feel Haki building its way through your veins, but you don't jump to conclusions, even as he gets closer to you with a towering height difference, his latex and bands stay unmelted when the fire on his back explodes, little sparks jumping towards you, who is by now trapped between the wall and the giant. You can feel the hot sparks on your clothing land and extinguish themselves, The conclusion is slow beneath his red eyes that are staring at you so angrily, any other emotion so hard to read beneath the mask that thoroughly covers every part of his body, the folded black wings are no exception.

Besides blocking your means of escape, he has yet to do anything physically, the temperature in the room rises with how fast the heat is produced on his back. The fire is so familiar you might even get lost in it, in the old times, when fewer shit stains were roaming the planet. It makes you sweat underneath all the tight clothes you're wearing, especially on your back where the wings have started to ruffle, trying to let some air into its layers to no avail.

You wish you had talent in observation haki to determine what he was going to do next.

You flinch when his right arm raises from where it slept beside his thighs, it slowly gets closer to your frozen form, even if you try to lean away, there is no point, you realize. You are tall, but as both of you stand beside each other, He towers over you, but his intention isn't to intimidate you. The instinct is your strong suit and your weakest point.

You can feel the leather wipe away at your excessive makeup, from your cheek to your platysma his hand travels with a heavy heart on its sleeve.

If King was anyone other than King, you would have slapped it away.

If only he didn't share traits you are so familiar with.

If only you didn't share traits he is so familiar with.

You can feel the cosmetics dragging and staining his gloves, wiping away half of your disguise easily, thanks to the heat, he keeps a note of your half-disguised face with calculating... Wide eyes. The other half of your face, one that stayed untouched, must be melting.

It's the shaky puffs of air released from his mask that gives him away, the sudden rise in temperature in an already hot room, it must almost be 40°C, yet he does not budge.

Is he relieved...? Enthusiastic much...?

Not a word is said when he takes his arm away, now covered in white. You can see the way the pupils shake, you are sure he can see yours too, the furrowed brows and slightly parted lips of yours must be a giveaway.

The wings.

The eternal inferno.

A laugh escapes in the room-turned-oven, a nervous laugh of a feminine voice. You must be in shock to have fallen so low. Not even trying are you?

In a world that ought to hunt your kind down, to exterminate the past, the world that succeeded in destroying your kind, you don't feel alone. Or... You will no longer.

In the fervor, the mask comes off, leaving his sweat-covered face uncovered for you to see.

(``What tells that you are the only survivor?`` King used to ask himself back in his younger years before he made it clear how erroneous that question was, not to mention unlikely. It a proof of his childish innocence and the improvement. If more of his kind existed, they would be in the hands of the Government, doing god knows what to them. It always made the locked space of memories in his subconscious bubble up and boil over in quiet rages and liquor-companied nights. As he looks at your somewhat clean face, he is comforted by the pitiless thought that, by some luck, someone else managed to survive the hell he also went through. He wishes he could feel at ease, but he has to be sure. He has to eliminate every doubt in his mind.)

It's not out of intimacy and lust that he asks an inappropriate question to your calmed self about stripping. The surprised look in your eyes indicates a misunderstanding of his intentions. It's only mutual trust that guides him to do what he does next. Slowly but surely, he tries to pull his mask off, letting the tight piece tug at his scalp as he sets his hair free. Only when the temperature doesn't change, even when his skin feels the air, does he let the fire return to its original size.

King The Wildfire, only looks down at your complicated emotions. Even if he does not remember the company of his people, he would truly be a fool not to recognize his own biology. Though he doesn't hold onto hope, suspicion still lingers in his red eyes. It differs from your beaming laugh full of shallow happiness, representing more of a nervous tick than anything. It's been so long since he has heard a laugh not accompanied by sadistic undertones—exploiter gifters who dared to approach him—and the liquor Kaido keeps so close during his episodes.

``... I apologize for the heat."

You smile with somewhat shocked eyes looking up at him. ``...You know, it's been a while since I've felt the excitement of my kind.`` a nervous sigh you let out lead the conversation.

`` you don't have to apologize.``

``Yes... I-`` He has forgotten many unique reflexes with time. For this instance, it doesn't pains him. Every day he forgets what distinguishes the instincts of Lunarians, for he feels less of his kind.

He counts it as a sin, a shameful part of adulting, a side effect of having to live among the likes of Kaido's men, therefore his choice.

You acknowledge his position with his back turned to the door, sitting down cross-legged as he mentions for you to do the same. You obey, his wings hovering over you and hiding your figure from the outside world.

He asks once more to turn your back to him. You try to find any joke to fit in the thick air of nervous glances, but you find none. The unconscious mutual loyalty the both of you have towards one another is born by the shared traits, of family. Of shared pain.

You take the Obi belt in your hands and off of your waist.

He has many questions he cannot get out of his mouth, but for now, he keeps quiet. He is sure you have no intention of reliving the hell on earth that is the past.

You turn your back to a beast with the pattern of a face on its back.

As you take the black fabric of your kimono off, layer by layer the cold bites at your wet body, and the salty smell lets out into the heated air, though none of you care for the odor. You drop the kimono just below your belly button and let the relief that comes with letting your wings flex and take hold.

With a fast-beating heart, King watches.

It's in a haze that he reaches out to your back, his fingers connecting to the shoulders where the wings come from, sending a shiver down your sweat-covered spine, they're smaller he thinks, more fragile than him, though there is no difference in the power of flame and healing when it comes to genders. She could make them bigger when required. They aren't fragile, they are as powerful as his, but the size difference makes it easy to tickle his instincts, long forgotten and left in the past, starving for attention. His hands run over your coracoid, trying to find the place where the feathers meet the skin, attempting to find the evidence that you are real.

He barely hears your name, caught in the view of the wings turning from black to dark blue at different angles. Though he doesn't answer, he has already shown you enough of himself, it is no longer essential. King will do just fine.

The wings are erogenous, however, even if you shiver under the sensitive touches, no lust taints the special moment between the survivors.

``(Y/N).`` you spell out your name.

By instinct, his fire becomes ablaze when his hand sneaks up your humerus, lingering touches ruffling your feathers as the fire licks at your ungroomed wing. It lights the reflective white strands of hair that escaped from Geiko Shimada. The warmth on your back is comforting to the point where you lean your wings into it. Finally, you light the eternal flame, his hand engulfed in your flames goes undamaged. It extracts and attracts the fire from his hand into the center of your spine, causing the fire to grow and spread onto your wing feathers.

Looking back you're met with what you would call, a confused face of King whose features have been caught in the yellow glow of a fire that you are able to control.

King only stares at your almost nude form with a wrinkle of thought between his eyebrows.

( Guard )

In the way King shelters you, with him beside you and you hidden in the massive wing as he walks into his chambers, you would be wrong if you said you aren't anxious. Happy but skeptical. You doubt he'll hurt you, but the mask locking away his facial structures works as an intimidation factor.

The click of a lock on his door is the only sound that disturbs the silence. Now you are in his territory, his nest.

``King?`` you turn around to look at him.

``Where did you come from.`` It's scary how quickly and unnoticeably he changes his mood. But it is probably because the enthusiasm has passed and questions have started to surface, what you thought to be a nice welcome, turns into icy bars locking you out of your getaway, just like earlier. His red eyes leave a permanent mark on your (E/C) ones.

Where did you come from. that's not a question. Questions don't make you feel as if the warmth has left your body and sent shivers down your spine. They don't drag you down the lone caves and lock up your respiratory system.

Questions aren't meant to stop time. But the way both of you aren't moving, they might as well.

You have to be careful with every word and syllable you mutter. ``I've come fro-``

``How are you alive.``

``I-``

You barely have time to finish your answers before he's asking another one, slowly he steps toward you. In the dark, his leather shines, but as you take another step back you cannot help but glance at his wings. How the moonlight seems to bend with each curve of his feathers, sinking into the crevices and lightening them up in a blue hue, similar to you, but unlike the yellow glow, King's replaced by the white. You can't help but be deprived.

There is only one sentence that is louder than the rumble coming from within him. The declaration you acknowledge within all the noise clogging your ears.

You don't feel the suffocation of this situation, nor do you hear King's voice anymore. The pressure (Despite the windows being open) comes from the claustrophobic chamber. Your wings stay close to your back. The masked face looks down on your kimono, his pupils have seemed to freeze on your form, and the angry aura that he emits is all but a facade of defense. His jaw is moving but all you can hear is a rumble that pours out deep from his chest, it's incredibly loud yet deaf to the ears of normal humans, the volume that should shake walls only quiver your brain.

The moonlight seems to cage you in, showing your footsteps to a starved predator, it's the devil's eye that replaces the moon, with red pupils that stare you down. He overshadows your form, sending warnings throughout your system-

The possessiveness only sends shivers down your spine.

(Fight or flight?)

From somewhere far away, a boy with a straw hat on his face lifts his head from where it's laying in a hammock, letting the yellow straws that are incapable of being split slowly drop onto his bandaged chest. The rough feel of the same material wraps around his forehead trapping a few black strands of hair with it.

He grumbles, the ache in his limbs starting to become much more obvious, with half-lidded eyes Luffy looks up from the opening of the hammock, letting his head peek over at the sleeping skeleton currently knocked out in the same way Luffy was supposed to be.

Something's happening.

He is sure of it, but with grogginess biting away his consciousness, he has no energy left to chase after that feeling, he turns his stiff body the other way, peeking from the left he comes face to face with the man who is a family member in all but blood, who he got back just a few hours ago.

He smiles and lies back down, from the position he is in, a window the size of his head stays open, it shows the moon and the stars twinkling their way into existence.

He wonders what others must be up to, are they watching the moon with him? Basking in its glow like a tiger?

He hates that he has to keep them waiting, but it was necessary.

Soon.

...Soon he'll be there.

Wait for him... A little more!-

( Domain )

There's something cataclysmic lurking in the walls of his chambers, causing your ears to bleed. The shackles rattle loudly next to your helix as you scratch at your ear, only making the headache worse. The heavy pull of sea stone brings down your mood. Rough exterior already leaving its mark on your hands

The mirror rests across the bed, compelling the disheveled mess of yourself to face the view. Hair strands fall on the sides of your face, greasy with gel, and your face—oh God, your face—appears smudged, as if the color is melting away. The swollen eyes that signal a newly awakened person squint to see your reflection.

The clothes are still on your body despite being passed out on the enormous bed of a murderer, a killer, and a tyrant's sidekick last night. Another ridiculous error to add to the imaginary board.

Back when King unleashed the color of the Supreme King on your cornered self you didn't dare fight back, and the shackles were here in the form of consequence to your conclusion.

The room was dark, with the only source of light being the window next to the mirror. The bars on the outside really make you feel at home. The decor set a scene suggesting no man had ever lived there. Occasional scratches marked the floor, and the specially modified bed, along with what you could only guess was a closet, were all tailored to fit his taste. Gothic undertones and a taste reminiscent of some old king's private quarters defined his preferences. You could barely discern the detailing on the bed and the strangely designed closet colored in black and gold. The dominating dark blue swallowed any light that entered the room, and there was a door to your left, likely leading to the bathroom.

The quiet morning was disturbed by the entrance of King, he stands in front of the same door you remember entering last night.

You feel quite disgusted.

``I didn't expect you to be awake.`` For a moment before you passed out, you didn't either.

The uneasy eyes meet kings' as time stills. Dragging out the undesirable connection. It only serves to tug your heart down to your gut. The happy moment, the relief and sorrow for the past nothing but a distant memory in the dark shadows of a realm not your own.

He moves closer to your bed, hands dropping what seems to be extra clothes near your feet. The man doesn't flinch as you push your legs closer to your torso and away from him. The rejection is disregarded.

``You should change.`` Carefully you nod your head.

``The bathroom is over there.``His stern voice shakes the weak walls of your mind as he turns his back on you before walking over to the entrance.

You can't help but let out a shaky breath as the door is locked and you're left alone with thoughts you can not connect no matter how hard you try, it only serves to make tremors run up your spine and into your fingertips, it's a dread invading a carefully maintained flesh you tried to protect with the hands of a child once. The deep noise your restraints produce was nothing but a ghost of your past just a couple of days ago. The weight on your wrists burns. The crackle is deafening and bone-shaking. There's no one else to hear you.

``... I need...`` Time to think, to process. Your lips shiver.

The soft white walls are nothing but an illusion. You wonder if the blue-colored room of a beast is a delusion.

The eyes and the goggles flash before you, white coats accompanied by bloodlust run over your thoughts.

Breathe.

You push your knees off of the bed, sweat traveling down your face, the cold is in no way a comfort.

The warm water is what tempts you to tread the wooden floor.

( Lone Wolf )

The water is hot against your skin as the shower head lets the boiling droplets escape freely from the metal, and steam coats the world in the lightest tints. King brings the ache you've long forgotten existed ever since the smile of a boy with the straw hat lit your life full of shadow. You wish you could be happy in the burning downpour, you deserve it, however, the inferno on your back heals the drawbacks, leaving no trace of your accomplishments which took more than a couple of burns to earn.

And you wonder what have you done to earn this.

The happiness of no longer carrying the guilt was relieving, even if it lasted for a couple of minutes.

As a little lady you would wish for a knight to come and take you away to the land of dreams, make the walls just a bit more colorful and alive in the world that burns dreams. The warm hands would he have, the soft look and the shine in his eyes, the wings on his back, and the fire that would put the sun to shame with its flames. The honey on his lips and the daisies in your hair.

The desires were harmless, they gave you hope, something a human would have.

(You can still taste the metal. You can feel the debris fall and you hear their landing making the ground of pure white shake.

Your instincts would only let you run. Would only make you avoid the black broken bricks covered in glitter. Shining green from the light and smoke.

You have no idea what exploded. You won't want to know.

That night, the girl left that place and its guards to be doomed into oblivion.

That night, a knight was left without his princess.)

The sizzling sound you feel is draining you of the energy you might need, it's a waste yet the fire on your back regenerates the lost skin again, again and again. Until you give in and stop the shower, only for the shackles to be felt around your hands. Your wings are open, fully on display.

Sensing the burns in your bones, you wonder what would have happened if you were more close to the explosion of the past, wonder if it would have been better as the water droplets fall from your wet face.

It's fairer than facing the reality that complicates the fragile string of truths once again.

Hands clenched into fists and fire growing ever hotter on your back, you wonder if you are patient enough for this, no longer does a little girl await for saving. She doesn't need to anymore. Someone else might.

It brings up a question. Can you be the light needed for one's darkest times?

You walk out of the shower with a hot back and bloody palms, the fire burns brightly above the feathers. You can only hope to fuel it forever. You keep the wings close, your captor closer.

No longer will you be truly alone.

( Purity )

If there's one thing you've learned as a child, it's that they aim for the stars, with no plan in mind and ambition in their belly, only a brave few truly make it into the sky and those who could not are left with clipped wings and broken dreams. Fragile to the point they crash onto the soil and shatter, never to be put together again.

It makes you proud that your captain never crashed down, that his wings were never clipped, you're sure that the thoughtlessness was enough to boost him to reach beyond the stars.

Before, you wondered if you were able to grab onto the lights that looked down on you during the night. Now you live to see it come true.

However, where you succeeded some failed.

And so King came crashing down with the one who put his wings back together, feather by feather, vigorous and more dreadful than ever.

He split the skies until it cried.

You refuse to allow him to recite Kaidou's doing to you. Day after day in the dark and cold chamber, your fire brightens the dark and continuously burns on your back, never once diminishing.

Nobody is allowed that pleasure.

( Prison )

Getting used to a closed environment comes naturally, as much as you hate to admit it. The dim walls are a new addition to your view, which is no longer full of white coats and a bright enclosure. The heavy shackles are much harder to familiarize with.

In a cold chamber time moves fast.

Your only interaction with the outside world is King, dark and broody, full of confidence and gentleness, he treats you as if you're fragility itself. You won't beg for a way out, you never did, humiliation over naught is an intense feeling to swallow. He's careful with his words, careful in the way he acts and reconnects with his instincts right by your side.

Day after day his visits keep a consistent schedule, with two plates of food and loneliness in his belly he strives to spend breakfast, lunch, and dinner together with you, speaking only a few words of insight. There's fire on your back yet, it does nothing to protect you from the coldness he brings. Wings stay close to your back, never truly opening in the cage. The words he says don't carry the weight of a man born for death.

One wants to lower your walls while shackling you with his, to the point that the invisible distance strains you, he is full of drought and he craves to end the famine.

Time passes and the longer you ignore the elephant in the room, the heavier its weight on your shoulders grows. You destruct yourself for a question you're not ready to hear the answer to. The pressure leads to an opening to form.

It's said in an outlandish way, heart swelling with numbness and hate tingling your fingers. Your eyes stare onward, beyond the figure meeting them.

``What are you achieving?`` Why have you caged me? Weren't you in my position once upon a time?

It stops him dead in the tracks. His eyes don't widen yet his mouth does in a way that seems robotic. The air stills, only the noise of crackling fire could be heard, heavy and rich with the enigma the man was created to be.

Why did you choose kaidou?

You want to ask.

``...Nothing. I achieve nothing.`` you ignore the strict undertone and drink the tea he brought not too long ago. It conceals the wary gulp.

``I would never have taken you for a liar.`` An intense sound is created as he slices the distance between you two with his flight, black wings ajar. a sharp feather rests near your throat. You have to be attentive. Careful to not snap the thick rope that holds his pieces together.

Blood seeps out of the cut.

``Why do you wish for death?``

``You could have murdered me the night we met.`` It's too late for your soul to perish. His reasoning for keeping you alive is clear to you.

His hand, clenching the root of a dangerously pointed feather shakes with the conflicted emotion.

Your back lights and the cut is healed.

He cannot do it, not to his kind. With a quiet grunt, King backs off to leave the chamber, his feather crumbled and abandoned on the cold wood.

Every night is spent alone on a bed made for your kind, it's just that this night feels full of plain dismay and sorrow.

The past does not visit tonight.

( The Other Side )

Your words penetrate him, though he doesn't indicate. The conversation is buried in the depths of ash, fire blooms inside of him, it rages and burns, and wherever he steps the smoke trails after him.

``Haven't you walked the same path?``

His subordinates are seated around a large table, smiles and crevices on their face.

``Do you not know darkness?``

He does. He is intimate with it.

``The hopelessness of being someones plaything?``

He can feel the heat of the past catching up to him, engulfing him in the ball of flame and strapping him on a table. He knows how it feels to be burned to oblivion, the only peace he has known. Words of madness leave his lips, everyone, including himself knows that it's empty threats, for he stands on the other side of the glass. Nothing but a guinea pig

``I know that you know it too. We walked the same path.``

He would have grabbed anyone's hand if only they reached out. It just so happened that he grabbed someone who could change the world, for the better or for worse.

He looks at the barren wasteland of Onigashima.

Was it truly a choice when your options were between freedom and its absence?

He finds that time flies swiftly when sailing. It halts when on the land.

(He has never belonged to either.)

``Why do you recite history?``

He comes to a conclusion, one of selfishness and fear. Clenched fist heats up, he does not pay attention to the rising temperature.

He craves his kind. The hopelessness is the reason he captured you.

His teeth grind against one another. He isn't on the level of humans, his superior biology won't let him stoop that low, but he finds that mentally, he and them are cut from the same cloth. Other's consequences directed him to repeat what he feared.

The thought has long since passed.

King finds it hard to care about them.

But you are entirely foreign. He can taste the smoke of Punk Hazard.

You try again and again. Lightly scratching at the metaphorical walls of him until your hands grab his heart softly, ripping the veins and staining your hands with his blood.

Your mouth only forages for the food King fetches. He wonders about you and the possibilities of it all until the voice he has gotten used to brings him back to earth, you do nothing to cushion his fall, only stalling his drop with words he feels entirely uncomfortable to understand. For the reason that he had no one to share it with.

``There's a saying about them`` You say, looking oblivious with the plate resting on your knees, mouth cooling down the food.

``A man is wolf to man.`` He gets it, King is sure he will hear your voice saying it whenever the existence of The Celestials get brought up.

``I'm glad you aren't one.``

For a moment King thinks about the blood he spilled, the curses his shoulders withstand and the beginning of it all, the things he has seen himself do, and replies.

``I could say the same.``

You can see his face, swatted with shadows even without the mask, crack, and the hidden comfort dawns on his face.

The soup in your hands is warm like the sunlight, the mask he gripped whenever entering the room rests on the bed, no longer present in his claws.

A path reveals itself to the two of you.

(There's a flower that blooms only in cold surroundings, It feeds from the ground and awaits the warmth of the sun, from the grey clouds and falling snow, the light peeks through.)

( No Regrets )

Through the window, you can smell the madness in the air, it's evident in the way King comes in while the walls around you shake with the rhythms of Queen's performance.

Your heart follows along with the melody without your consent. After all, there is not much to do with the man that you have come to accept. The walls are nothing against the booming voice of a man too loud and apathetic. But within the confines of the castle, the tense atmosphere can be felt with the help of King. Every step he takes and grunt that follows brings forth his thoughts and instincts, there's something in the air. Teetering on the edges of your mind.

The Lunarian gets closer to you, finally reaching down to your level. For minutes he stares at you, taking in your features as if you'd disappear. The leather flexes as his left-hand holds your wrist.

The red eyes don't move away. Neither do yours.

The metal spikes on his mask gleam. His eyes tell a story as his head drops down, gloved fingers sliding over the rough material of your cuffs.

Time is ticking, and you are waiting for him to succumb to temptation and finally make a move for both's sake.

King's face tilts up with a heavy sigh in tow to look at you, only for a soft smile to greet him. The cuffs are warm around your skin and cold to the room.

After all, the sun speaks of your captain's arrival.

It doesn't take many days for King to return with the key in between his fingers and no fire on his back. Your smile greets his eyes, and the knowing grin settles on your dark skin, yet the maliciousness is nowhere to be found between your lips.

Ever since his release, King has never felt at peace, perhaps he can only close the distance.

(A glimpse of sunlight was all the flower needed to rise from the frozen land.)

The heavy cuffs harshly meet the floor.

( Reunion )

The smoke is filling your lungs, the familiarity making your heart clench and bring forth a cough. The walls are stained with blood, but you don't dwell on it. Instead, you let the sounds of battle lead your wings; feeling the air make way for you is a sensation missed. The chunks of limbs and lifeless bodies are nothing but a blur in your vision. The battle has long begun, and your release from the King's chamber is far too late.

A cunning smile flashes in your mind, long black hair, and rosy cheeks decorate the memory.

``Better late than never.`` Her composed voice would say, accompanied by her icy and all-knowing stare.

Suddenly, a blue light shines through the castle wall ahead, accompanied by the noise of a gigantic object impacting from the other side. With a single flap of your wings, you pick up speed, aiming to breach the barrier. Your tough feathers shield your body as you slam into and shatter the wall's material. Unscathed, your eyes adjust to the bright figure standing on your left, emanating a stunning light that brings life to its surroundings, leaving your eyes wide. You notice a trail of smoke to your right.

You get a better look at him as the surroundings clear up.

``S-Sanji?!`` You feel quite happy to know that his issue has been resolved, judging from the way his face brightens and stands on the ground of Wano's borders. Although he always lights up near the opposite sex.

``(Y/N)-Chan?!`` His matted blond hair is a detail you only notice with the advanced eyesight your kind seems to possess. The bloody lip and his bruised forehead made him quite a sight. Although the swelling is nowhere to be seen.

You can try to make the words of delight resurface in your mouth, it's always nice to let others know of your feelings, though sometimes it sure gets hard to pull them out from the bottom of your heart.

``I'm glad to see you here!`` it lets the burden on your shoulders lighten.

Sanji responds the way you except him to.

``(Y/N)-Chwaaan!!~♡ It's been so long since I last saw you!`` No longer able to contain the love in his body, the hearts burst from his very soul. Happiness fuels his wiggly movements. ``Oh, how I missed you!~``

A large smile stretches your lips, dry as a desert. ``It's nice to have you back!-``

You could have said more, but the time has already run out.

There's water leaking from the floor above, a loud shriek is heard and your back is met with a cold, menacing look from who seems to be Sanji's opponent.

The reflexes kick in, sinking into your veins, moving you out of the threat of a mechanism falling on top of you.

You'r gaze falls on the Beast. His eyes meet yours.

There's a glimmer of familiarity in his eye.

``Out of the way!`` Sanji's yell warns before the foe swings his oversized arms once more.

The amount of force needed for your wings to fly backward is more than necessary, though the opponent's swings seem to be getting swift at every dodge, the heat produced on your back strengthens your arms and then fists, and you look for an opening to get one hit in, but for a second you can see the furious blue eyes tell you his whole story, the desperation of a man becoming more clear to recognize...

You decide that this is not your battle... The heat is diminished.

( A Change )

The short encounter with the cook was not for naught, his instructions led you directed to a stadium full of warriors ready to risk their lives for a nation that has only its history to live for.

Within enemies, there are familiar faces mixed in, who are also fighting alongside you. With Kaido fighting Luffy and Sanji taking on Queen, it's only logical to assume that the first mate would go for the top of the food chain.

There's so much to do, yet the responsibility does not intimidate your kind.

You're left to protect the survivors of a war already won.

The aftermath was nothing more than a reunion for your crew.

( Hello )

The victory comes and brings midnight with it, cheers and smiles bloom on the warriors' faces as you breathe heavily, and everyone starts to tend to their wounds, burns and deep slashes are nothing compared to what they've achieved. Pirate crews are no exception, they rest and gain the energy they'll need for the morning, until then it seems that you're the only one with stamina left.

The fire on your back grows small until it vanishes completely.

Of course, after Kiado's defeat, warriors took advantage of the weakened Beast Pirates and imprisoned those who could still stand, albeit their dreams were and still are drowning in pieces far too small to see or collect. It's evident that they hold no hope for the future.

But there's a link connecting you to one of them.

You walk near the exit door, watching as men talk among each other and discuss their next step, whatever that may be. Your semblance to that man does not get mentioned by anyone after all, they have not seen his face, but the single glance from Zoro as he stayed awake for 5 seconds is enough for you to tense up, you wonder when it will be brought up. Zoro might have fallen asleep but your heart stayed heavy next to him.

It's a dangerous idea you have, suspicious even, though they must understand, Luffy's intelligence, Nami's smile, Robins's knowledge, Usopp's understanding nature, Chopper's innocent outlook, Franky's family ties, Brook's dedication, Sanji's acceptance, and Zoro's strict attitude. If a word got out, you'd have to face your friends, have to rip a bandaid off of an old wound and hold in a cry. You just have to wonder when?

Yet you still head towards the Udon Prison, consequences last in your mind, the night sky looks down upon you, the stars begging you to go back, however the dark clouds hide them away.

The night air feels nice on your skin, even as you stand above the walls keeping in the Beasts. You can tell that no one is awake, exhaustion haunts the air as you leap down on the dry ground. Mad Scientist Queen is lying face down, covered in bandages that soil the dirt underneath him red, you're glad that his snores are loud enough to hide your wings' shuffling.

The sudden chill runs up your spine and alerts your senses, face tilting sideways, you look at a disheveled man standing over you from behind.

``Hello again, King.`` He thinks of your eyes and how beautiful they look under the moonlight. Your beauty would put Luna to shame.

Your greeting is dismissed.

``Why are you here?`` His dry mouth can barely open to question you.

``To see you of course.`` This time he keeps his mouth shut. Yet his eyes observe your appearance, the dirt, and blood that soaks your Kimono.

To see him after a loss, in a state such as this is a crime that would be punished by death. You're the only exception to the rule that didn't exist yesterday.

``Let's take a seat.`` He hasn't even noticed you move into the center of the prison, too busy trying to keep all the blood inside his body to not flat-line. The bandages are not doing much, and the fire he used in his battle has extinguished itself. All his strength was used up and you wish to see him in this state? There are no words left for him to speak, so he takes the seat next to you. His knee touches yours, the intimacy is foreign.

``This calls for a celebration, don't you think? I grabbed us some booze.``

The liquor bottle nudges him and he takes it with no complaints. The reasoning for others' celebration is obvious, dethroning an emperor is a big feat for anybody.

``After all, a God has awakened.`` King knows.

His eyelids are closed yet he can see the vague silhouette of JoyBoy, the godly form only brings bitterness to his tongue, so he tries to drown it with the smoky taste of beer, which accomplishes little.

``I was mistaken.`` with Kaidou. Regret fills him.

He isn't angry at his loss as much as he is irritated.

``You were.`` The moonlight shines down on both of you. The silence is deafening, nothing but your heartbeats are heard.

``I was saved by that man.`` His head looks up at you, and each of his limbs freezes at the implication. The misery and hopelessness engulf the surroundings. He thinks about nothing except the straw hat with a red ribbon.

``I see... So you're apart of his family?``

``I am.`` the soft look in your eyes makes him envy you.

``...Are you happy?`` He doesn't know what he will do if you respond negatively. King already imprisoned you, took your independence, and chained you to him, yet you didn't burn out, How will he treat you?

``I am, were you not?`` with Kaidou? He doesn't have a straight answer, so he only responds with silence. This was a question he thinks you know the answer to.

It isn't until your hand grabs his cheeks that he opens his eyes in surprise, also realizing he closed them.

``What is that look?`` The strict tone in your voice is nostalgic. He tries to direct the conversation elsewhere, however his mind is flooded with the feeling of your warm hand on his face.

``The marines will come.``

``They'll come for you too, you know.`` You respond with the warning, the Navy isn't known for mercy after all, they'll go after the cause too.

``I don't want that... I don't... I don't want to be alone.`` You add, sheepish of your request, is it too much to ask? You have friends who you consider as family, but King is... Different.

King also does not want to be the sole survivor of his race, he has carried that burden for long enough and now that he had a taste of his people, he wishes to not go back.

``You won't be.`` It's the only promise he'll keep, for your sake and his.

For this, he will have to leave the prison.

``Stay alive for me.`` You beg and he complies.

It all starts with your wing enveloping his form, the soft heat from your contact, and the gentle touch of your fingers over his cheek.

( See You Later )

It ends with a promise and an escape into the night.

With you in the company of your friends on the Thousand Sunny.

And with him on top of a waterfall, watching with curious and intrigued eyes as he holds the leftover newspaper, the ship descends down the mountain and leaps into the ocean next to the koi fish.

He finds your smile now meters away, he gazes with a newfound meaning to his life.

#one piece #anime #king one piece #king the wildfire #king the conflagration #king the wildfire x reader #one piece x reader #one piece spoilers #wano arc #wano spoilers #wano kuni #one piece wano #beast pirates #.my writing.

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low-budget-korra · 2 months

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Comments on Netflix's Avatar The Last Airbender

*spoiler alert*

First of all I'm gonna start by saying it is one of the best adaptations I've seen so far. And that's the key word, adaptation. I've seen a lot of fans and others complain about some things that honestly, doesn't make sense because some things only work in a cartoon(just as much as some things only work in a book or a video game)

And before I start to talk about some topics that I judge important, I also wanna say that the production is fantastic, from the costumes to the CGI. It all looks amazing. (A part from Yue's wig)

1. The Script

It's not easy to pick 20+ episodes and make it fit in only 8 but damn they did a hell of a good job, especially when judging what was important to show and what they could let it go. Some fans commented that since there's no fillers, the Gaang and others miss some development but I think that for the universe of the live action what we got here it worked.

I can express how much I like to see Ozai and Azula's relationship and how it is now clear that he uses the siblings against each other, manipulating them to get what he wants. But I will admit I miss the fear Azula had, since it's implied in the show and some extras that she does fear Ozai, and fears becoming like Zuko.

I hope the 41. Is just fine after the battle in the north. See all of them bowing to Zuko after discovering that Zuko was the one that saved their asses and was heavily punished by that...it was beautiful. I loved the writers did that, give names and faces to Zuko's crew and a beautiful yet sad arc when Ozai banished his son and the men who he saved.

I also loved that they put weight into things that was treated as a joke, like Katara talking about her mother. She was a little kid who saw her mom get murdered in front of her and the live action made sure to let us know that it is not okay to make jokes about something so traumatic. All of the deaths here have tons of weight in it, it's not some random person, is someone we met, someone we liked, someone who helped. The costs of the war, something the cartoon manages to show us but know in live action, with real people, the massage gets stronger.

And they didn't forget Iroh's past like the fandom does, which is great. That actor, the earthbending soldier really let it all out, that's how you use the few screentime you have.

Sokka's isn't sexist and y'all were making a storm outta a cup of water, is not like Sokka sexist didn't go away after like the 4 or 5 episode in the original show. I think the live action was able to bring more depth to him in comparison to the first season of the cartoon. We see how he feels about his father's, the absence of him and his duty as warrior who kinda doesn't want to be a warrior.

I need a Gyatso in my life, I didn't know I needed to see more of him until the live action gave us more of him. Kyoshi was the Thor coming to Wakanda from this season, WHY THE FUCK BRYKE DONT WANNA GIVE US A KYOSHI SERIES? She is absolutely a jewel of a character. Roku and Kuruk, damn poor Kuruk man, so much pain in his words but again that's what it means to be the Avatar, it's not fun and games. Zhao saying to Aang what Korra villains said to Korra😭 that the world doesn't need the Avatar anymore, it hurt.

Guys I'm gonna say it, there's no way in hell for anyone to ship Kataang here. I'm saying this because some shippers complain that the secret tunnel part was different but c'mon, look at Kiawentiio and look at Gordon, it would be so s awkward and weird and just wrong. I know they don't have a big age difference, is only like 3 years but when they filmed Gordon looked so much younger than her, maybe in the next seasons the difference won't be that big.

The pace is good, once you start you don't wanna stop.

2. The Acting

Everyone is really good at capturing the essence of it's characters and somewhat making them their own. The highlights for me were Dallas and Ian, Its like they came straight from the show. Ken Leung's Zhao was also amazing as he was way more threatening here than he was in the show.

Kiawentiio was the Katara we were looking for, she is kind yet strong, brave and caring. And Gordon was Aang, sure, he has to learn a few things since he slipped a few times in his acting but nothing that could ruin the experience, that kid is good and just needs some experience.

Elizabeth Yu was Azula. It was different but yet the same character, is like learning something new of her and I like how cleared she show emotions with her eyes. Maria Zhang had great chemistry with Ian and I can't wait to see more of Suki. Arden Cho and Yvonne Chapman as June and Avatar Kyoshi look like they came out straight from the cartoon. Daniel Dae Kim...man is Ozai, so cold, so sharp, so scary, already way better than the cartoon version. I wanna see more of Paul Sun-Hyung Lee as Iroh since the character he really starts to shine in book 2.

3. The live action doesn't have the spirit of the OG?

Yes, it does have. The thing is now that we are seeing real people, things get dark one way or another but I don't think it ruined the spirit of the show. Aang is still a kid, Sokka still making sarcastic jokes, Zuko still annoying as hell, Katara still hopeful and strong... There's everything there really.

The thing is stuff like genocide, murder, war, death and suffering are, for some people, better to watch as pixels in a cartoon than real people.

I think it's a great adaptation and I would recommend it to every fan.

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myun-saidthoughts · 1 year

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Why 8H/12H/Plutonian Synastry Feels 'Karmic'

In most cases, when someone's inner planets fall in your 8th/12th houses or if someone's Pluto makes harsh aspects (conjunct, square, oppose) to your Sun, Moon, Rising, Mars or Venus; the energy you'll feel from them is intoxicating, it'll be all-consuming, its energy you deep down crave, and energy you don't have within, but wish you'd possessed.

When someone enters your life and they touch these parts of you, any voids your inner self has, disappears. When you're with them; a part of you will feel complete and any upheaval you have within somehow vanishes. Suddenly, the part of you that you avoid, hide, ignore or suppress feels at ease, they are the cushion your soul wishes for.

(This kind of energy is profoundly different when this is dealing with family relations, e.g., your mother's or father's inner planets fall in your 8H/12H and vice versa.)

This is karmic energy because with them you feel your best, but without them, you'll feel your worst. Their presence becomes this necessity that you'll always desire for, once they enter your energy field you'll always need a quick fix, they become this pacifier for your pain and you'll develop a scarcity mindset without them. You'll grow a need for them because without them you can't feel this "high." Without them, you only feel the fear of what it means to be open and vulnerable, without them, you only feel the fear of what it truly means to express suppressed emotions and without them you only feel the fear of letting someone in.

You're terrified of giving a part of yourself to another but with them, that part of you feels healed.

The intensity of this synastry will vary, but for those who are are influenced heavy by Pluto or have natal Scorpio placements with 8H/12H placements with the Moon/Sun making harsh aspects to Neptune/Pluto who may have deep paternal/past partnership wounds (e.g, an absent or un-nurturing parent/s, a chaotic or recluse kind of mother, a bipolar abusive father/past partner; it all depends), will feel this heavy. The absence of the worth you wish you felt from your parents or past partner has now brought this person (who touches the darkest and deepest parts within you) to you.

The fact of the matter is the same. This person came into your life to highlight these neglected needs of yours as a catalyst for you to transform, heal and become a more secure and stable individual.

In some cases, they become this false home in your eyes, a look from them will make you feel warm, and finally for once, you'll start to feel complete. You will feel like it's safe enough to fall for them because they'll make you feel secure within yourself, (the same feeling you wish you could hold onto) their touch will feel like a bandaid from the kind of love you've received from previous relationships/parents, so you'll accept it; even to your own detriment. You'll suddenly feel the care you've always wished you felt and that's why the thought of them leaving or the thought of them choosing someone else feels gut wrenching. They become this savior you deeply wish you had.

The reason this type of energy is so easy to become attached to yet feels so hard to let go is because it's energy that you crave, it pacifies (for the time being) your pain. They are an outside manifestation of what you wish to feel on your own. They're just a reflection of what's 'broken' in you, and it's easier to give your power away, than to give it to yourself.

To look at someone with fear of them leaving will only create situations and scenarios where your self worth is tested over and over again, you'll start to feel the same terror you felt as a child, the same terror you say you try to run from.

You know you will feel this intense loss without them, yet when they're looking into your eyes; that 'feeling' feels okay. That's why this synastry is so transformative and can be life-changing.

Within, there's a desire for someone to erase the hurt that was created by circumstances you couldn't control. And because of this, the universe has planted this individual to enter your life. Naturally the pain you've endured is hard to overcome or accept, only until you have too will the healing really begin, and this person is a catalyst for just that.

You have to choose yourself instead of someone else, and because of constant disappointment, hurt or abandonment you've experienced, that's terrifying.

How can you choose yourself or let yourself receive unconditional love? You're not familiar with that energy so it's feels foreign to you, yet when someone's Pluto make significant aspects to your inner planets or when someone's planets fall in your 8/12 houses, their language and words will feel native and fluent to you.

These questions are the exact reasons why you are experiencing this karmic situation.

Your soul knew what kind of circumstances you were going to deal with, and it wants you to heal. It wants you to accept that pain. The universe does not want you to sit in this pain, it wants you to succeed, accept and overcome any and all challenges that you've dealt with.

You're not alone in this, and you didn't come to this Earth to only experience the same never ending cycles.

This experience is only a pit-stop for you, at the end of it all you will reach your final enlightenment destination.

P.S:

This post is particularly for those who struggle with self-worth/self-love/confidence etc. 8th and 12th house synastry can be beautiful when both partners are healed and accepting of their harsh past. The depths of emotions you two can create together is unworldly and powerful. Therefore I do think 8H/12H can work but it would have to be with two profound open-minded and spiritual people. You both will have to want this in ways you've never could have imagined before. I'm also a Scorpio Moon and 12H native so this energy for me does feel more enticing, but to each their own and it really depends on the natal chart/individual itself.

Side Note: To balance the intensity these synastry aspects/overlays bring, taking on the opposite houses themes would bring more ease and create less intensity.

For example, dealing with 12H (Even Neptune) synastry, the opposite house is the 6H, the house of routine, daily life, mundane affairs, healthcare, helping others/giving etc etc. So if you take on new hobbies/activities by changing your daily routine with adding or taking away something, that will ease the fixation that 12H synastry brings. Often times with this synastry you will find yourself day dreaming or obsessing over someone you desire, you may have this innate need to be their savior or try and fix their wounds, so you will put yourself in situations where your priority is solely them. you could also fantasize and have an escapist attitude with them, (or the idea of them) they can be an escape for you or you might find yourself thinking about them a lot, repeating scenarios in your head or fantasizing about situations happening, or you might feel confused/hazy with where you stand with them so you constantly are thinking of them but keeping yourself busy is key with this synastry, and that will create more control within you.

For 8H/Pluto synastry, the opposite house is the 2H, the house of value, self esteem, possessions, finances and security etc. So to gain more control within, I would say find something that will bring value to you, something that enhances your self esteem. Something you can accomplish on your own or achieve/do that will bring you a higher sense of self. Because their eyes alone bring you that sense of value or sense of wholeness (you wish you felt on your own), focusing or harnessing your energy towards a deep creative project will ease that "need" for them (the planet person). Create something anything; writing, painting, or learn ways to make more income etc, this will bring you the sense of worthiness or value you crave for and these projects/creative outlets will ease the intensity. If you have many outlets that bring you the satisfaction that you yearn for (the sense of value that the 8H planet person brings you) there will be less of a need for them, and you won't develop a scarcity mindset because without them you still feel valuable, whole, and worthy.

I have an eBook, and with it has more precise definitions regarding the placements of the IC, Moon aspects, and the potential manifestations of each inner planet in the 8th or 12th house for individuals. As well as it provides information if the person you're connected to is a karmic connection, it has advice, insights and exact transits/synastry overlays to further understand the connection. You can find more information about it pinned on my page.

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kittyball23 · 4 months

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Birthday Teen (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: Not-so-baby-anymore Branch's 13th birthday is not all that it's cut out to be...

A/N: Got inspired to write two more oneshots over the Christmas weekend. Here's the first, a follow-up to Birthday Boy

__________________________________________

Near silence filled the space.

There was no laughter. There were no shrieks. There were no rambunctious squabbles or playful shenanigans. Not even a silly, improvised tune. There was just Branch, his bunker, and his sole cupcake.

It was a stark contrast to the scene that it was for this very occasion twelve years ago. To the fun that existed then, when things were simpler and he would hold no concerns for tomorrow. Back then, he didn’t have to grow up so fast. He could enjoy his time in diapers, clapping his small hands and giggling with delight. He could play with his brothers, enjoy the warm hugs from his grandmother, and sing to his heart's content, all without a worry in the world.

Back then, when there weren't any problems to be solved, and Branch knew nothing of the hardships the future would bring for him.

But this wasn't like that now.

It was never going to be like that again.

At least, not the way he saw it.

With a sigh he prodded at the rich, vanilla icing on the cupcake in front of him and watched the frosting indent.

Branch scrunched his nose, a feeling of disgust welling inside of him. He'd lost his taste for cupcakes long ago. They were far too sugary, and in the end didn't provide the appropriate nutrients that were needed to sustain a healthy diet. Nowadays, such a thing was critical, if it meant ensuring his survival. Because, unlike before, he had nobody else to ensure of it.

But, he had gone through the trouble of baking the treat, and it was not trouble he would've gone through without anything to gain in return. Every minute he took with every task he performed was a spent effort.

With a hint of reluctance, and a hint of longing, he unwrapped the confection from its paper covering, and brought it up to his lips. The taste melted sweetly against his tongue and left behind a myriad of flavors. It was simple but elegant. No extravagance or excess. Just what he needed in such a time.

Inhaling deeply, Branch closed his eyes. He savored the sweetness, marveling at how closely he had hit home with his Grandma's recipe and wondering that, if his brothers had been there, perhaps they wouldn’t even be able to tell the difference.

Trouble was, they weren't there, and had not been for quite some time…

They weren't there for when he'd hit his 3 inch milestone in height, or when he'd become fully potty trained, or when he'd had his first day of school, or when his voice had deepened, or whenever ANY little thing that was important to him had happened. Their absence was a constant ache in his chest that only intensified day after day, year after year, paining him to realize that he couldn't see his brothers as the young men that they were sure to be now... and that they couldn't see him for the one that he was becoming.

Dismay pricked Branch like a thorn.

It wasn't fair. It was completely unfair. He loathed the solitude. The bunker that lacked the very trolls for whom he built it for. His sickeningly sweet cupcake, mocking him with its perfection.

He chewed the last few morsels he was willing to eat away, savoring the flavor, before setting down the unfinished treat on the table and pushing it aside.

This is the worst birthday yet.

#trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #branch trolls #brozone #dreamworks #fanfiction #kittyball writes #brodacious fanfiction

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yourlocaltreesimp · 2 months

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Great things

TP!Link x reader but of @acrossthegalaxyau’s Beast. A lot of this isn’t proof read because my god it’s a long one.

Tw: depictions of gore.

The hand that held his sword was tired. In both a very literal and metaphorical sense. Long ago, he had begged his father to let him hold a blade, to learn to fight. To protect that which was precious to him. Now, with all he longed to protect kept at a healthy arm's length, he wondered when his hands had gotten so tired. When had his wrist become so sore from the burden it held?

To him, his burn out, his loss of drive within the world was an infection of sorts. The title of Hero was a burden that in many ways he wished he wasn’t bestowed. Well most certainly an honour, seeing that which he loved, which he fought so hard to protect, be harmed and disregarded was not a motivation. The responsibility wore at his bones until they cracked and ate at his energy until he passed out, only to be shoved back into him the second he awoke. The title of hero outweighed his own name. No longer was he Link of Ordon, But Link the Hero of Hyrule. He was no more than his deeds. Then the safety he was tasked with bringing to their feet, begging like a dog for any award. In some sense, he was awarded. With titles and land and money and publicity— but none of it mattered. To a hero, perhaps these things were valued. But to Link if Ordon, such prizes were worthless. They were gifts of obligation, not of any true thankfulness or appreciation. And so, he viewed his task as obligation, and their gifts without any thanks or appreciation.

He stood now, a group of lizalfoe in front of him, without much a feeling of fear. Not in such a sense of bravery or courage, but simply the absence of feeling. His sword sunk into flesh with no discernible difference between the monsters. Corpses were Corpses. In the eyes of fate and history, enemy was enemy. There was no concern for where they came from or what lives they might’ve led if he hadn’t come into their lives. It was his obligation to kill. To lay waste the creatures of evil. Four were downed, one last left standing among the bodies of its allies.

Clouds parted from the gibbous moon, letting its silver light steam down. Once upon his past, he would’ve spent such a night by fireside, you cuddled up against his side as some idle story filled your minds. Further back than those memories, you both would’ve snuck out to run along the river. Younger then, the two of you would’ve curled up in some quiet field after dinner and fallen asleep. Within those memories were gifts. The peace of domesticity he could no longer afford. Love of another which he now can no longer, lest you be ripped from him too. Contentment, something he can now only find within his memory. He could read between the lines of his life and surround himself with yes men, convincing himself its love, but contentment cannot be fabricated. It is a measurement only knowable by oneself, their enjoyment of simply being alive. And it was in the cold days that followed the abstractness of his journey that he is unhappy with the idea of simply being alive anymore.

Pain struck, washing over his network of nerves, his sword sinking into the wet dirt. Gnawing fangs latching to his flesh. He was only awake then long enough to see an arrow pierce the vile thing. He was only conscious long enough to scold himself— this is what comes of closeness. Pain. Suffering. Loss.

Staring down at the mixture of splintered bones and ripped skin didn’t affect you as much as it should’ve, but goddess knows how many hours into your nights at the ward meant you couldn’t scrounge up any more energy to be panicked. Night bleeding into cold night sapped out the care and individuality of each patient down to a cot number. The whole process got methodical over time— healing people. There wasn’t much of a difference within the bodies after enough time. It didn’t matter to you whether the patient was alive or dead, biologically a man or woman, or whatever arbitrary things society dubbed someone as ‘different’. Red potions and fairies worked their magic all the same on Zora as they did with Goron, so on and so forth. A needle pierced flesh no different from a child than it did an adult or elderly. Sure, there were minor differences in anatomy and function, different needs of each individual, but they were all just people in the end. It didn’t feel different to operate on one than it did another.

But there was something you found odd in the way you felt when it came to healing Link. All things considered, he wasn’t much different from any normal hylian. A little on the lean side, sure, but nothing apparently extraordinary at a first glance. Of course, with a little more information readily accessible, you knew a few quirks. Strong as the hero was foretold to be, he was littered with scars. A few on his back from fighting, the worst from the night the village was destroyed by the wakes of twilight. A nicked lip he’d received from a scuffle with a drunk man who lunged at you. A few lining the inside of his arm, which he didn’t need to define and nor did you force him. A long slice in his forearm from when he was trenching you how to shoot a bow. A small scar on the inside of his ankle from when he fell in the river when you’d both snuck out in the dead of night, his young body unable to balance on unsteady feet. Each one you’d bandaged and stitched and monitored. Each wound of his recklessness was eased by your hand.

Well, now you supposed, it wasn’t each. Now the man in question lay hardly living and hardly dead on your makeshift operation table, it seemed there was yet more to uncover when it came to Link. You were met with a familiar hollow burn beneath your ribs, seeing the angry red gash on his left wrist. Not even that he’d gotten such a wound in the first place, but with your offer to heal the wound being met with stiff silence. It would’ve been easy. Some gauze and disinfectant. It wasn’t even deep enough to warrant stitches. It was, however, deep enough to warrant infection in its neglect. Sure, To this alone you would’ve been only slightly frustrated. But seeing the flesh falling from bone on the right half of his abdomen was enough to convince you that said negligence happened to be enough to affect his ability of wielding his blade.

The sun was rising by the time you were done. Nearly eight hours it had taken to close all his wounds. Another spent on treating his infection. Changing his bandages over for the second time that… evening? night? You decided to let yourself question the possibly most apparent difference of your Link since you’d last been aloud to treat him. There was something embedded in his chest. About a palms length from his collarbone, embedded in his sternum was… something. And from it sprang magic. It discoloured his skin to a black geometric patch with teal lines crawling over his chest. It hummed slightly, in tune with his heart, and that hollow feeling rested within you again. It was more corrosive this time, eating away at you in a way you couldn’t begin to express. It burned within whatever soft place it settled in —your heart most likely— and for the first time that night you felt something other than bitter isolation. You believed it to be jealousy in one of its many wicked forms.

The thing with dead bodies was you knew from their lack of pulse and cold skin that there was no soul to connect with. There was no one there. Those who were alive provided a sense of warmth. Physically and emotionally. Once, Link too was the same. He was warmth. Your very own sun. He’d make sure you were safe and drag you up from the depths of whatever dark hole you’d crawled into with no expectation of a return. Now, Link was more akin to the former. He regarded you with unresponsiveness. Cold in every way but literal. You gave him space when he asked for it upon his return. You don’t question when he stopped showing up to events. You tried not to take it personally when he stopped talking to you. You tried to convince yourself he hadn’t walked out of your life without a second glance. You tried— you really did. And for a while it worked. You managed to fool yourself that he didn’t mean to, or that he’d be coming back. And maybe that’s the cruellest part, that you wholeheartedly believed your own lies. But looking down on the wounds he’s collected, you can’t help but be hit with the realisation that he doesn't want you anymore. He had seen the world outside of what Ordon had to offer. Through his heroism he’s travelled the highs and lows of Hyrule, met all its variations of people and became their Hero. A person of their creations. And with it, with their creation, you weren’t dubbed a necessary piece of him anymore. You weren’t the only one that loved him anymore. So how foolish could you be to assume that he was still yours?

Your trance was broken by his eyes fluttering as the sunlight streamed in. He blinked a few times before sitting up, you didn’t have the heart to usher him into laying back down with soft mutters. His slitted pupils adjusted to the light, growing thin and sharp as they met your own. His mouth fell slightly agape seeing you framed by the sunlight, an angel sent to him, surely. Your hands felt stiff as you grabbed his neatly folded clothes and other items, setting them on his lap.

“Your- Your service total is 300 rupees. Feel free to pay at the front or discuss other financing options.” Your voice shook as your routine line spilled from your lips. Your heart shook from the gasp that came from him, his weak lungs drawing in a cold, shuttered breath.

You turned on your heels, leaving the examination room with a heart beating as swiftly as your feet in the ground. Your world would wither without the sun. Perhaps it’s already started. Link, not your Link as you’d been used to referring to him by— that implied a connection you hadn’t had in a while, would be fine. Unbothered. After all, Heroes were meant for a life greater than what Ordon had to offer, what you had to offer. He’s meant for great things, you comfort yourself with the words you once would’ve assured him with. You just never assumed ‘great things’ didn’t include you.

#legend of zelda #link x reader #tp!link #twilight princess #TP!linkxreader #across the galaxy #aog!link xreader #aog!beast #aog x reader

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