#now back to my usual state of only watching shows from before I was born. better that way.

[chiropteracupola]

bertrand sweaterpaws

[daenysthedreamer101]

Daughter of Steel and Bronze ~ HOTD

Ch 14 - Total Eclipse of the Heart

HOTD x Targaryen!OC, Targaryen!OC x Harwin Strong

Warnings: Daena is not doing well, she gets jelaous, like really jealous/ Minor mentions of blood, death, fainting spell, overall chaos, and angst

A/N - it's a long one guys, so buckle up and get some snacks lol

Corresponding episode: HOTD 1x05

HOTD masterlist

"In the waning months of the year 115, a Royal wedding was held - Crown Princess Rhaenyra was married to Ser Laenor Velaryon, heir to Driftmark and the future Lord of the Tides. He was said to have arrived at King's Landing on the back of his dragon, Seasmoke, the same way his mother, Princess Rhaenys, arrived at her own wedding on her dragon, Meleys. 

The wedding was not without scandal. To everyone's surprise, the grieving Princess Daena showed up. She recently lost her lady mother, Rhea Royce, and was not expected to attend. Many said that her somber behavior was an ill omen that contributed to the violent event at the end of the wedding - the murder of Ser Joffrey Lonmouth."  

(Fire & Blood, Being a History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros, by Archmaester Gyldayn)

~

115 AC, Runestone 

The cold wind howled through the night. Lady Rowena stood at the foot of the table as four Silent Sisters took care of her late daughter's body. Never in her wildest dreams, did she think she would bear witness to this - her only child, cold and dead in front of her.

"My lady, you may wish to leave the Silent Sisters to their work. It is ill luck to look upon the face of death." Maester Cirion said to her. 

"The Stranger has taken many people away from me: My parents, my lord husband, my brother, and now my daughter. I assure you Maester, he cares little whether I watch or not." Rowena replied quietly. 

"If not for yourself, then you should leave for your granddaughter. I'm worried her mind will spiral. The Princess had always been quite attached to her mother. I'm afraid Lady Rhea's passing has unstabilized her state of being." Measter Cirion suggested. 

"A raven must be sent to the Eyrie. Lady Jeyne must know of my daughter's passing. And to King's Landing, of course. I can trust you will deal with those messages?"

Maester Cirion bowed slightly. "Of course, my lady. At once."

~

"Ser Harwin."

He turned at the sound of his name. It was Lady Rowena. Her hair, usually neatly held by a hair net, was now loose. Her eyes were bloodshot and there was a crease in her brows. There was a large wooden box in her hands. 

"My lady?" 

"Ser Harwin, forgive me for seeking you out in the middle of the night but I'm afraid you're the only person I could think of for what I need," Rowena said as she handed him the box. 

It wasn't too heavy but something was definitely inside it. "Give this to Daena. Let her talk about it. Distract her mind. And if you can, encourage her to get some sleep before the...before the funeral." 

"What is it?" Harwin asked. 

"Her old dragon egg. The one that never hatched. Daemon never bothered to return it to the Dragonpit and it has stayed here ever since Daena was born." 

Harwin remembered Daena talking about this egg and how angry she was it never hatched. 

"I hear she refuses to sleep." Rowena comments. 

"My sisters tried everything but she is...restless," Harwin answered somberly.

Rowena cast her gaze down and shook her head. 

"She needs you, Harwin. Now more than ever. Be there for her, please." Lady Rowena pleaded. 

"Of course, my lady."

~

Gently opening the door, he found her sitting on the room floor, next to the fireplace. Her back turned to him, he couldn't see her face, only the back of her head. Her silver curls were now loose, reaching down to her waist.

She was crouched, her knees close to her chest as she stared into the fire. She didn't seem to notice him, or at least, she failed to react. He slowly approached her, setting the box next to her. 

"Princess..." He called for her as he crouched next to her. 

No reaction. 

Sighing, he took hold of her hand and squeezed it. "Daena." 

This seemed to break her stupor. She slowly turned her head toward him. Her lilac eyes were red and puffy, her face tear-stricken, her silver curls messy. It broke Harwin's heart into a million pieces seeing her like this. Gently, careful of her bruises, he took hold of her face. He wiped away the tears. 

"My love...please. Talk to me." He cooed. This was the first time he addressed her in such a manner, yet she didn't seem to notice it. 

"There's nothing to talk about! My mother-" She yelled but as soon as the words left her mouth, her mother's death became so much more obvious and real. 

For the 100th time that night, she broke into tears. This time, Harwin was there to hold her. She sobbed and sobbed, drenching his shirt with her tears. After what felt like hours, she stopped. With her head on his chest, she could feel the beat of his heart; it calmed her down. 

Her eyes fell upon the box Harwin brought with him. Removing herself from his arms, she pulled the box closer. With her fingers, she traced the intricate carvings in the wood.

"I know this box." She whispered, sniffling. 

She opened it and her eyes fell upon the dragon egg inside it. The last time she saw it, she was a little girl, dragonless and fearful. She picked it up - it was dark in color, almost black with a violet tint to it and the scales glimmered purple in the fire. 

It was as magnificent as the day it was first laid in her crib. It was as heavy as she remembered. Laying it in her lap, she sighed. It had her mind racing - so many things would've been different had this egg hatched. 

She would've bonded to this dragon from birth, yes, but then she would've never claimed Vermithor. She didn't like that thought. Vermithor was her everything, she couldn't imagine her life without him. Speaking of her dragon...

"Vermithor. I want to see him." She said as she caressed the egg in her lap. 

"...It's the middle of the night, my love."

"So?"

Harwin sighed. "You need to get some rest before the-"

"I don't want to. I want Vermithor!" She repeated. She hasn't seen her dragon in over a fortnight. Both dragon and rider were getting restless without each other. 

"On the morrow, then." Harwin offered. 

Daena thought about it. She was tired from all the crying. She caressed the egg some more before putting it back onto the velvet cushion inside of the box. 

"I could do with some sleep." She commented quietly. 

Harwin sighed again, this time from relief. 

~

The rising sun was covered by the clouds; grey and heavy they were. Just like Daena's heart. Outside the walls of the castle, the funeral burial of Lady Rhea Royce was being held. All of the castle staff was there; stable boys, cooks, cleaning maids, guards, everyone. 

The older members of the staff wept, for they knew their lady well and they too were shocked by her sudden passing. But no one felt more pained by Rhea's death than the two women standing at the very front - Lady Rowena, her mother, and Princess Daena, her child. 

Grandmother and granddaughter held each other tightly, as if letting go of one another meant losing each other forever. Both were clad in black, from head to toe. Lady Rowena wore a long, black hood that covered her hair but not her face. Even in her darkest hour, she stood tall, a somber expression on her face.

Daena was a completely different story. Not expecting to attend a funeral, she had no appropriate black gown, so she borrowed one from Amanda. It was made of cotton with puffy sleeves and a high collar. 

On her head, she wore a veil made of black Myrish lace that covered her tear-stricken face. Her hair was pulled in a bun and she wore no earrings, bracelets, or necklaces. Only the simple garnet ring her mother gifted her years ago. 

Even the heavily pregnant Amanda was there; she refused to lie and bed while her aunt was getting buried. She stood next to her husband, Ser Jasper, and clutched her belly. She too was in a black gown with a black veil on her head. 

Harwin and his sisters were slightly off to the side, seeing as they weren't residents of Runestone, only guests. Both of the twins had their hair up. Hanna had a black velvet headband on her head while Joy wore a short black veil. Harwin too was in black. 

As the funeral went on, Daena felt her patience disappearing by the second; on one hand, she wanted to give respect to her mother one last time. On the other hand, she hated bearing witness to this. She wanted to run away from the darkness and the pain.

Finally, it was over. It was customary that after the funeral, the bereaved would go inside, raising cups and eating in honor of the deceased. But Daena had other things in mind. Detaching herself from her grandmother, she started walking toward the hill.

~

Ignoring all calls, she continued without turning back. From the other side of the hill, Vermithor appeared, hissing and clicking. She walked up the hill, determined to get away from any man or woman. Once she reached the top, Daena fell to her knees. Vermithor lowered his head, wanting to be closer to his rider. 

Feeling his need for contact, she lifted her veil, showing her face to her dragon. Vermithor's great amber eyes looked over Daena and he could see and feel her pain. He's been feeling her pain ever since she was assaulted weeks ago at her name-day party. With trembling hands, she touched his snout and leaned her head onto his. 

A deep rumble left his mouth as he nudged her body with his snout; it was his way of comforting her. Usually, she would play into it and pretend to fall. But not today. Today she stayed seated, her eyes glued to the wet grass. She could feel his hot breath as he opened his mouth and growled. 

A great wave of emotion washed over her - anguish, pain, a sense of injustice, a desire to just disappear, and anger. Anger at her father not being there for her. Anger at herself for not being able to stop her mother's passing. Anger at the gods for taking her mother away from her. 

Perhaps being next to her dragon amplified her feelings or perhaps she was just fed up with everything. Either way, the fire in her blood ran hot and rage flowed through her veins. Hot tears ran down her face as she beat her fists against the cold earth. Gripping the grass tightly, she screamed. Feeling her immense sorrow, Vermithor roared, his voice echoing through the valley. 

Pulling the grass harshly from the ground, she keeled over, sobs wrecking her body. Feeling the distress of his rider, Vermithor swished his tail against the ground, making the earth below him shake. 

~

Upon hearing the news of his wife's passing, Daemon knew he had to return to the Vale. Not because he cared for Rhea, but because of Daena. He knew how attached she was to her mother. 

Looking down from atop Caraxes he could see the castle of Runestone getting bigger and bigger. But something else caught his eye - on a nearby hill, Vermithor stood, furious and wailing from what Daemon could see and hear. Caraxes let out small clicks and whistles of acknowledgment as he descended and landed at the base of the hill.

As he dismounted Caraxes he could see someone approaching him. At first, it just looked like a big ball of black running down the hill, but he quickly realized who it was. 

"Kepa! Kepa!" (Father!) 

The frantic voice of his daughter rang loudly in his ears. Before he could register what was happening, Daena was in his arms. He stumbled a bit from the force of her hug. She was a sobbing, coughing mess, clinging desperately to him.

 "It hurts! It-it hurts. Daddy, please! Make it s-stop!" Daena babbled. 

"What hurts?" He asked as he guided both of them down to sit on the grass. 

"M-my heart! It hurts so b-bad. Daddy please!" 

Daemon didn't know what to say. He was never the best when it came to comforting people, but for her, he would try. He pulled her into his lap and played with her hair, just like when she was a toddler. 

"Mother is - she's...she's g-gone." Daena sobbed.  "Please don't leave me. Please. I need you. Stay." 

"I'm not going anywhere," Daemon promised. And this time, he meant it. 

Two months later

The royal wedding of Princess Rhaenyra to Ser Laenor Velaryon was to be held at the Red Keep in King's Landing. Lords and ladies from throughout the realm were descending upon the capital to attend this once-in-a-lifetime event that would unite the two most powerful houses in the Seven Kingdoms. 

Seeing as Daena was a member of the royal family, she knew she had to go. Perhaps, she could've used the excuse of being in mourning as an explanation as to why she would not attend. But once her father told her he would go, she knew she also had to go.

And now here she was, back in King's Landing, after almost a year in the Vale. Her grandmother decided to stay at Runestone, seeing as Amanda gave birth just one day after Lady Rhea's funeral. Harwin, Joy, and Hanna would join Daena in King's Landing. 

She, alongside her father, decided to arrive at the wedding on dragon back. The two stayed behind at Runestone and only started their journey south one day before the wedding. Her gown and accessories for the wedding were with the twins who had traveled down from the Vale over two weeks ago. 

Arriving at King's Landing in the early morning hours, long before sunrise, Daena made her way to the Red Keep. Immediately upon arrival, Daena was greeted by the twins who ushered her to her old room where she was to rest before the start of the wedding feast.

~

The great Throne Room of the Red Keep was transformed into a banquet hall fit for a royal wedding. The banners of House Targaryen and House Velaryon hung on opposite sides of the Iron Throne. A long table was set before the throne where the royal family sat.

With trepidation, Daena made her way to the Throne Room. This would be her first public appearance since the death of her mother. She was still in mourning and wanted nothing more than to seclude herself and ignore the rest of the world, but what choice did she have?

"Princess Daena Targaryen!" The voice of Ser Harrold Westerling rang across the Hall as he announced her presence. 

The Princess strode into the Great Hall, tall and gaunt. The black silk of her dress only accentuated her pale complexion and the emptiness in her eyes. Her dark gown flowed behind her, making her look like an unworldly wraith.

Murmurs and whispers could be heard all across the room but Daena paid them no mind. With her head high, she made her way up the stairs to the royal table. She curtseyed to her uncle and Rhaenyra.

"Your Grace. Cousin." She greeted politely. A look of pity formed on the King's face.

"My dear, I must say, I was most distressed to hear of  Lady Rhea's tragic passing. I know how close you were with her. I'm very sorry for your loss." 

Daena gave an awkward smile. "Thank you, Uncle."  

"Iksan sīr vaoreznuni, hāedar. Iksis konīr mirros kostan gaomagon?" (I am so sorry, little sister. Is there anything I can do?) Rhaenyra asked. 

"....Are you happy, cousin?" Daena asked. 

Rhaenyra seemed confused by the question. "I am." 

Daena nodded. "Good. At least one of us is." 

And with that, she sat at the edge of the table, somber and quiet. Lord Lyonel, who was sitting to her left, offered his condolences. As did every lord and lady who approached the royal table. She was getting sick of it and wasn't sure if she could handle it for another couple of hours. 

To her immense pleasure, Alicent was nowhere in sight as she was "still readying herself for the celebration" as His Grace explained to Jason Lannister. 

~

"Lord Corlys of House Velaryon; Lord of the Tides, Master of Driftmark. His lady wife, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, and their son and heir, Ser Laenor Velaryon - the future king consort!" 

Dressed in rich fabrics embroidered with gold, House Velaryon made their entrance. Everyone in the Hall stood up and clapped. Once they reached the foot of the table, Rhaenyra walked around it and greeted Laenor and he kissed her hand. Daena noticed Uncle Viserys glancing at Alicent's empty seat. 

Once the Velaryons were seated, an unexpected visitor arrived - Prince Daemon. Strutting confidently down the Hall in his red and black clothes with a smirk on his face, he silently approached the table and gave his brother a mischievous smile. 

King Viserys wordlessly gestured for another chair to be added to the table. Daena watched as her father sat down next to her. He made himself comfortable in the chair and once he did, he turned his head toward her. No smile was present on her face, yet her eyes gave away how glad she was of his arrival.

He grabbed her right hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed it. They continued holding hands, which warmed her broken heart just a little bit. 

Uncle Viserys then gave a speech about uniting House Targaryen and Velaryon and how much of an important ally they were to the crown. Yet, he stopped, looking at something down the hall. Everyone, including Daena, followed his line of vision. 

At the top of the stairs, on the other side of the Hall, stood Queen Alicent. Dressed in a dark green gown, she stood out amongst the crowd. She walked with a look of determination on her face and a certain fierceness was in her eyes, never before seen on the young queen. House Hightower immediately stood up, and everyone else followed suit. Except for Daemon and Daena, who remained firmly seated. 

Daemon completely ignored her, looking down at his nails, while Daena stared Alicent down with a look of pure disgust and vitriol on her face, not caring for what others might say in the slightest. Alicent walked past them, walking up to Rhaenyra. 

"Congratulations, stepdaughter. What a blessing this is for you." Alicent said connivingly to Rhaenyra and proceeded to kiss His Grace on the cheek. 

Daena caught sight of Rhaenyra's face - a look of surprise and worry was on her cousin's face. She also shared a look with her father; his pale eyebrows were raised and he was hiding his face behind his cup, almost like he was trying his hardest not to laugh. He obviously found Alicent's stunt ridiculous.  

~

Laenor and Rhaenyra proceeded to perform an Old Valyrian dance that imitated dragon flight. It was a sight to see as the two spread their arms like dragons do their wings and circled each other. Daena noticed how intensely her father was watching Rhaenyra and she couldn't help but wonder if Rhaenyra had something to do with Daemon's banishment. 

Rhaenyra in her stunning, pure white gown looked like the Maiden herself. Her silver hair was pulled up in an intricate hairdo with a bunch of rubies sewn into her hair. Daena could not say if she liked it or not. In the end, everyone clapped, Daemon more enthusiastically than others. 

Other people proceeded to stand up and join the soon-to-be-wed couple on the dance floor. Among them, Daena easily spotted Joy in her bright violet gown as she practically hopped her way to the dance floor. She somehow managed to drag Hanna along, which brought a small smile to Daena's face. 

Alicent then stood up and walked down toward the Hightowers and conversed with her uncle Hobert. Daena's eyes then fell upon her secret lover. Harwin was sitting next to his brother, Larys, and the two were having a conversation. 

She couldn't help but admire his rugged beauty; his dark blue suit sat perfectly on his broad shoulders, and his dark curls were pulled back into a bun, freeing his handsome face. Almost like he sensed she was watching him, he locked eyes with her. She instantly looked away, her heart skipping a beat. 

Her happiness was short-lived because the next time her eyes found Harwin he was on the dance floor, dancing with Rhaenyra! She did say to him before the feast she wouldn't be dancing as she was in no mood to do such things, but she didn't expect him to go and dance with her cousin of all people. 

She watched as Rhaenyra giggled at something he said and how happy he seemed around her. Why wouldn't he? She was the Realm's Delight. She was the crown Princess. She was the future Queen. Of course, he was enamored with her. 

Bitter jealousy nested itself into Daena's heart. Jealousy and envy. Jealousy, for she had no desire to share her lover with Rhaenyra. Envy, because Rhaenyra seemed to be the most desired woman in the Seven Kingdoms and had so many things Daena wanted.

Over the course of the night, Daena also noticed Ser Criston staring intensely at Rhaenyra. It seemed every man in Westeros desired Rhaenyra. Daena knew all of these feelings were irrational and knew Rhaenyra would never hurt her in such a way but, jealousy was a mad viper and its venom spread through Daena's heart. 

She was so deep into her head that she failed to notice Lady Laena sharing glances with her father from across the table. The food that was in front of her went cold for she had no appetite to begin with, now, even less. She also failed to see Joy dancing and smiling with Ser Elmo Tully. 

~

Her body was turned to the right, that way she wouldn't have to look at Alicent. The one time she did glance at Alicent, she appeared to be just as miserable as Daena was. At least that brought her some satisfaction. 

Her father proceeded to get up from the table and go into the dancing crowd. First, he conversed with Laena. After that, he went up to Rhaenyra who was still dancing with Harwin. Father said something to Harwin who stepped away. 

Harwin caught sight of Daena's face - it was twisted in anger. Her lilac eyes fell upon him and even from across the Hall, he could feel a rageful fire exuding from them. He wondered why that was. 

"Your dear Princess seems less than happy with you," Larys commented as Harwin sat down. 

"What are you talking about?" 

"Look at her. She is fuming. I wouldn't be surprised if she started spitting actual fire upon you." 

"And why would she do such a thing?" Harwin inquired. 

"Something tells me she wasn't overly pleased seeing you dance with Princess Rhaenyra," Larys clarified. 

"...It was all in good faith." Harwin tried explaining. 

"I don't think that's how she sees it," Larys commented before taking a sip of his wine.

~

From her seat at the table, Daena had a clear view of her father grabbing Rhaenyra by the neck and pulling her closer. She furrowed her brows; What in the Seven Hells are they doing? 

Then, a scream echoed through the Throne Room. 

Something was happening at the dance floor, but thanks to the crowd Daena couldn't see a thing. She quickly stood up from her chair and tried peering through the mass of people. 

"Where's Rhaenyra?" Daena asked, those being the first words she uttered after hours of silence. All her negative feelings disappeared once she realized her cousin was in danger. 

"What in the Seven Hells is going on?" Uncle Viserys said as he got up. Quickly, a group of guards appeared.

"RHAENYRA!" Daena yelled trying to locate her. Daena tried looking for Nyra's silver hair but, she was never the tallest, so she was quickly engulfed by the mass. Joy and Hanna were also on the dance floor, so Daena worried for them as well. 

Uncle Viserys walked around the table, trying to locate Rhaenyra as well. It was absolute mayhem. Daena joined her uncle at the front. She locked eyes with Harwin from across the hall. 

"Get Rhaenyra!" She yelled. Harwin proceeded to fight his way through the crowd. 

Next to her, Uncle Viserys bent forward, not feeling well. 

"Uncle! Are you alright?" She asked, worry lacing her voice as she noticed his nose bleeding. He didn't respond.

As she turned her gaze once again to the crowd, in the corner of her eye something caught her attention. A short girl in a light pink gown held onto a chair for dear life; Lady Patricia Beesbury, Daena quickly realized. 

The girl, blind from birth, had no idea what was going on and a look of terror was on her face. Springing to action, Daena jumped from the small platform she was standing on and ran toward Patricia, her black gown billowing behind her. 

She could hear Lord Lyonel yelling her name in the background but she didn't care. She needed to help Patricia. 

"Patricia! It's me, Daena! Come with me, quickly!" Daena said to the girl and tightly grabbed her arm. 

There was no way they could get back to the platform so instead, Daena set her eyes on one of the pillars. With an iron-tight grip, she held onto Patricia and the two tried to escape the crowd. She heard what she thought was Harwin's voice calling for her, but she wasn't sure. 

The two girls were pushed and pulled by the crowd but somehow managed to escape. Daena pulled Patricia and swung her around, pushing her against one of the large pillars. There, they stayed hidden. 

"Are you alright? Are you hurt?" Daena asked, breathless. 

The poor girl looked horrified and had tears running down her cheeks. Daena looked her over and besides her hair being a mess, she seemed fine.

"I-I-I...Thank you. I'm f-fine."  Patricia spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. Daena let out a sigh of relief. 

Then everything went silent and the cries of Ser Laenor echoed through the Hall. Daena peeked out over the pillar and saw Laenor crawling over to a man's dead body. Daena would later learn this was Ser Joffrey Lonmouth. 

~

"We stand here tonight in thanks and praise to join two souls as one." The dull voice of the Septon continued reciting the wedding prayer. 

"Father. Mother. Warrior..."

Daena stood behind Alicent and Uncle Viserys. Her tight bun was now loose and barely in shape, thanks to her little rescue only minutes ago. Lord Lyonel was to her right. She couldn't have imagined a worse outcome for a wedding; a man dead and the rest of the celebrations canceled. 

"Hear now their vows." 

Rhaenyra approached Laenor, kissed him on the cheek, and said her vows. 

"I am yours and you are mine. Whatever may come." 

Laenor did the same, but truth be told, neither of them sounded honest or happy about it. 

"....I proclaim Laenor of House Velaryon and Rhaenyra of House Targaryen to be man and wife...Now and forever." 

Daena's head was pulsating, almost like someone took a hammer and was hitting her repeatedly with it. She gripped the skirt of her gown tightly, taking in small breaths through her nose. Her left wrist, the one sprained months ago, was hurting as well.

All this newfound chaos only worsened her already fragile mental state. Now her cousin's wedding was ruined, her father was gone, again, and she didn't even know where to start with Harwin. It was all too much.

It seemed she was not the only one feeling that way. Uncle Visers keeled over, his crown falling from his head. Rhaenyra, Alicent, Lord Corlys, and Lord Lyonel all rushed to help him. Closing her eyes, she sighed. Her ears were ringing and her vision was becoming fogged. An uncomfortable heat spread through her body. 

I can't take it anymore.

Without even thinking, she started walking away, leaving all that mess behind her. The click of her heels echoed as she practically ran toward the door. She barely missed the puddle of blood still left on the floor. 

Harwin stood in front of the Throne Room, waiting for Daena to come out. Suddenly, the great doors were opened and she came rushing out. Not noticing him, she started walking briskly down the halls of the Red Keep. 

"Daena!" He called for her. She seemingly ignored him and started sprinting toward the grand staircase. 

He started running after her. 

Right when she reached the stairs, she fell to her knees, her hand grabbing onto the railing. 

He caught her just before she toppled over. "Daena! What's happened? Tell me!" 

"The king has fallen...Call the measter..." She whispered, her voice weak and broken. 

"What? What do you mean?" 

He grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him. He called her name, asking if she could hear him. Her gaze was blank and distant, unfocused. The grip she had on his arm lessened. She leaned her head onto his chest and then she went limp.

"...Daena? My love, please! Get up!" Harwin pleaded, his usually stoic voice now ripe with emotion. 

He picked her up and carried her to her chambers with haste. He hated the feeling of her limp body in his arms. He wanted to scream from the top of his lungs. Once again he failed to protect her and the shame pierced his heart. 

[karolinaandfrogs]

Flowers

A/N: There is no use of y/n because of my indescribable hatred for whatever that thing is. Also by saying this I just wanna say that I don't mind other authors using y/n as their main character. Just for me personally, I like it when my main hero has more obvious shapes, so I just dropped here my own character.

A/N: The reader is elf born. I like to mix the world of Tolkien and J. K. Rowling a bit so please, let there be no confusion of the main character for the house elves in Harry Potter.

Warnings: none

Pairing: Regulus Black x female!elf!reader

Words: 1,7k

"You're beautiful. As a flower.”

“Then, why won’t you make me yours?”

“Because every flower dries eventually. Each one of them becomes fragile with time. But not everyone has given their lives to the hands of time. No, some of us are cursed by it. We stay with heavy centuries on our shoulders as we watch the flowers vanish slowly.”

The library was almost empty today. This wasn’t surprising because most of the students were enjoying the day at Hogsmeade. Either buying gifts or just wandering from one shop window to another. November was slowly but surely coming to an end and as Christmas time was now, swiftly approaching the snow-covered school grounds, a festive but relaxed atmosphere was lingering in the air. Everyone excitedly awaited the magical part of the year.

Except him.

Regulus has never really liked this time of the year but that wasn’t the reason for the current state of his mind. Even Evan had told him that morning that he was grumpier than usual, but he wasn’t the only one to notice his friend’s despair. Regulus’ concentration in classes became loose as he struggled to pay attention to his professors’ interpretations. His marks took a quick turn down and before he knew that, he wasn’t at the top of his class. Many professors have noticed this sudden change in his behavior and one time even Professor McGonagall asked him to stay after the lesson ended. He’d be lying if he said that, it didn’t touch his heart, at least a little, when the usually strict and precise woman asked him motherly if he was alright. But of course, he hasn’t uttered a word to his closest friends, he wouldn’t confide in her.

And that’s why he was here, in the library, ready to get the post of the top student of his year back.

He was looking for a book to help him write an essay about the Salem Witch Trials for Professor Binns. He trailed his tired eyes along the leather backs of the books. He yawned and shook his head as if it were meant to cure his sleep deprivation. He grabbed the first book that looked somewhat useful and sat down at the nearest table. He took the first sheet of parchment he found in his bag, altogether with a bottle of ink and a quill. He took the book and started working on his essay. He was three words in when his mind started to wonder again.

“I’m too old for you, you know that right?”

“Didn’t you say, that elves age differently?”

“I did, didn’t I? But still.”

Hand in hand with his marks had taken a downfall in his appetite and sleep. He started to skip breakfasts and lunches and sometimes dinners. These days he’s always felt like he’d throw up any minute the little his friends almost shoved down his throat. The image of food touching his lips had begun to feel so unfamiliar. And it started showing.

When he saw himself in the bathroom mirror the other night his mind was unable to process what he was looking at. At first, he could only recognize the outlines of a young man. Although he could already tell that what he was about to see was rather ugly, he still reached out his hand to wipe off the water of the mirror.

The bathroom air was stuffy, hot, and heavy. The night behind the bathroom window was thick like a rich chocolate mousse. Almost as if inviting to dip a spoon in. And in the mirror stood a silhouette of a boy. His collarbones were sticking out. His ribs took more obvious outlines. He was staring at his outline and his outline’s gaze was fixed back at him. Each one of them looking unhealthy and miserable.

And all that for one simple reason.

His pride was hurt. His feelings were rejected. He was rejected.

The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted his train of thought. Some first-year walked past his table with an armful of books, mumbling something Regulus couldn’t understand, and disappeared behind a first shelf of books.

Regulus sighed. He needed to concentrate. He’s not going to let his intrusive thoughts put him down this easily. Especially, when he’s got a goal to achieve. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in and out. Then he took a quick look at what he’s already written down. It wasn’t much, or, to be completely honest, it was merely a few words. He dipped his quill in ink again and started working.

“The Salem Witch Trials were a major event in the history of the wizarding world.”

“Reggie?”

“They provoked many witches and wizards who settled in the New World to return to their homelands.”

“Yes?”

“I thought you hated that nickname.”

“I don’t mind when you call me that.”

He snapped the book closed. He knew he wouldn’t get any work done like this. Plus, even tho he tried to occupy his mind, it always seemed to find a way for memories too painful to bear to float to the surface.

He quickly packed all his belongings and threw them into his bag. Normally, he would spend extra time organizing his belongings, but today he didn’t care. He just wanted to fall onto his bed, tuck himself under the sheets, and pretend he was already asleep so that when his roommates returned from the Great Hall, they wouldn’t try to convince him to eat something.

He exited the library and headed straight to the Slytherin common room. He was walking through the empty corridor when he heard someone call his name.

“Reggie?”

He froze. He knew this voice way too well. And so did he know the owner of this voice.

But he didn’t turn his head towards her. Not just yet.

He knew he wasn’t ready to look her in the eyes. Not after what she’s done to him. He hated her for that most ardently. He was bitterly swallowing the fact that he knew he would willingly go through all this pain all over again only if he could reach any possible closure.

And again he was disgusted by how pathetic this all was. This wasn’t the man his mother raised him to be.

His breathing got faster and he was starting to feel dizzy. He knew that he needed to get out of there. He wasn’t prepared for this kind of conversation.

“Reggie, please look at me.” Her voice was soft. Just like every time she spoke to him. But it was hard to tell if she had this tone of voice dedicated to him and him only or if she had spoken like this with everyone. Either way, to him she seemed angelic.

He turned his head. His dark hazel eyes met her steel grey.

In the bright afternoon light that peeked through every window in the corridor, he could see that her curves seemed sharper than normal. Honestly, she looked… tired. Her long honey curls were today frizzy and wild. There were dark shadows underneath her eyes. Her tie appeared to be oddly knotted but at the same time, the knot looked like it was holding on only by the power of pure will. Overall she looked like she’s got a few rough nights behind her. Just like him.

This was the first time since the last time they’d spoken that he had a chance to really look at her. Of course, they had classes together but he usually kept his gaze buried deep into the ground. He just didn’t have the guts to look her in the eyes.

“You know that we don’t have to do it like thi-”

“What do you want?”

His voice was way harsher than he wanted it to be. He could see that he hit the right spot when she twitched with a mixture of fear and nervousness. He should be happy about that. Then why wasn’t he? Why was he so afraid to hurt the one, standing behind all his despair?

“I wanna talk.”

“When we’ve spoken at last you made it clear, that you want me to keep my distance. So, that’s what I’ve been doing. And now it’s all wrong again?” Even he was surprised at how flatly he managed to say these words.

She paused, for a brief moment and when she spoke up again her voice was brittle. Her usual confidence with whom she spoke was gone. Now, she seemed almost fragile.

“You know that this is not fair Reggie.”

He scoffed, “oh? How so?”

There was a genuine hurt in her eyes and it immediately made him want to take back, what he said. But he couldn’t.

“You’re being mean. This is not the Regulus I know. This is not my Reggie.”

It was almost cynical to call him hers. They both knew it. It didn’t matter, how they called this whole situation of theirs. He wasn’t hers to keep. And she wasn’t his to look after.

The corridor was strangely empty. Regulus was thinking that anytime someone has to rush in and ruin this moment. Only, if it hasn’t been already ruined.

It was hopeless. Either way, they were doomed to fall apart. Of course, there were a few stories throughout history when an elf and a human had fallen for each other but these fairy tales always had the very same ending. When the wistful youth had washed off one of the lover’s faces and the long years passed there was only one left. And that one was chipped into pieces while hoping that something would bring their dearest one back to them. Cursing the wheel of time while wishing it would be them to break it.

How many romantic tragedies will pass before they learn their lesson?

There was a long silence in the corridor. Neither of them had anything left to say.

“Goodbye, Regulus.”

He knew this was about to come but he wasn’t ready for it yet. He didn’t respond. All he could do was to watch her leave him behind. As always.

[unwisemagi]

Parent Scrybes Au PT 2

Did I mention I forgot a lot of names? Because I forgot a lot of names lol. I am continuing this because.... Why not?

Grimora

The scrybe of the dead was fond of children. She enjoyed their energy and their perspective of the world. They saw things in a different light, much like herself.  Despite being fond of children, she never entertained the thought of parenthood. To raise a child was a monumental task, not to mention the effects being exposed to death could have on young ones. She understood that exposure to the things she saw were not great for a developing mind. The scrybe of the dead only became a parent due to your unexpected arrival.

During the night, one of her trusted ghouls came rushing down the corridors. The ghoul approached her in a panic with a strange bundle of blankets in his arms. He left her no time to question his state, and frantically started speaking. He stumbled over his words and talked so quickly Grimora nearly thought he was speaking another language. She waits until he is done with his erratic ramblings before asking him to start again, calmer this time. The ghoul gave a sheepish nod before starting again. 

He had been tending to the lower crypts. This particular ghoul was tasked with watching over the oldest area of the lower crypts. Due to the age of these areas, they needed to be checked for any structural issues and occasional flooding. During his usual checks, he spotted a flickering light at the end of a corridor. Light was not very common that deep in the crypts since very few were even allowed down there. And he knew for a fact he was the only one in this particular section. He did not fear any harm seeing as he was already dead, so he was quick to investigate the out of place light. What he found had been the greatest shock in his life . . . well unlife.

The source of the light was an array of candles. The candles were arranged in a circle around a pile of withered bones. In the middle of the pile was a bundle of carefully wrapped blankets. He was shocked of course. This hadn't been here yesterday and the only way for a ritual to be performed this deep in the crypts was by Grimora herself. It was not possible for any townsfolk or citizens to reach these depths so he was left completely lost on how and what this was. He had to show Grimora this oddity, but he was curious of the blankets left in the circle. He just had to take a peak and when he saw what it was, he ran to the crypts master.

Grimora frowned at the tale and gently scolded the ghoul for messing with the scene. It was reckless considering he had no clue what it was. After her scolding she asks to see the bundle he had been so panicked about. She held it carefully and appraised it with pale eyes. It seemed the bundle had been wrapped as securely as possible and was in great condition. How odd. Eventually she pulled back a corner of the blanket and gasped in shock.

The little bundle of blankets was you. You were peacefully sleeping, unaware of the world or the scrybe that held you. You had markings on your face that mirrored Grimora's and possessed a ghoulish appearance. She knew from a glance you were not just a lost child. No, you had somehow been born like that. She could not speak words as she stared at you. You broke her trance when you wrapped a boney finger around her own and yawned. She grew attached near instantly and smiled softly. 

“My, aren't you just marvelous.”

By the end of the night, Grimora had given you a name and was sewing little clothes for you. A marvelous little ghoul such as yourself had to look their best now.

[with-love-from-hell]

Family Line

Fandom: Obey Me!

Characters Featured: Lucifer

Written for a GN!Mc, (you/yours, they/them pronouns used)

Genre: Hurt*/Comfort

Wc: ~1.2k

Cw: abusive parent (father), mentions of emotional and physical abuse, resentment and relationship grief, *leaning WAY into the hurt on this one, noted Mc has siblings

(Here is a version with my Mc, Storm)

》A/N: I wrote this fic with the song Family Line by Conan Gray playing.

Lucifer paced slowly down the hallway of the second floor of the House of Lamentation. The nightly routine to ensure all his brothers were still accounted for in the wee hours of the morning was tiring, but it was the last task he needed to complete before turning in himself for the night. As per usual, Asmo had just entered his room after spending a late night at the fall, and the sound of Levi cursing at one of his video games was occasionally heard in the distance.

The last room to check across the hall from his own was Mc’s. Usually, they slept rather well, going to bed earliest out of everyone in the house. Tonight though, something was off. Lucifer raised a brow as he approached the room, uncertain if he was actually seeing light shining from the underside of the door. As if sooner believing he would be going crazy, he checked his watch- seeing the clock showing 1:45am back at him.

Maybe they fell asleep doing homework, he posited, approaching their door curiously. He paused before knocking, trying to listen closely to the music playing from behind the thick wooden door.

“...I can’t forget, I can’t forgive you ‘cause now I’m scared that everyone I love will leave me...”

Lucifer frowned. The somber melody continued, telling a story of pain and suffering caused by the individuals a child is supposed to trust and feel loved by. After listening to a few more bars, he knocked on the door- hearing the music decrease in volume slightly. There was a short pause, and then the door slowly unlocked and opened.

Lucifer sucked in a terse breath, seeing the clear evidence of your woe worn plainly on your face. You refused to make eye contact with him, instead staring at the ground. “S-sorry, Lucifer. I’ll turn it down, I didn’t mean to keep you awake.”

Lucifer felt his heart squeeze in his chest. “Mc, is everything alright?”

You glanced up at him briefly before looking down again, your bottom lip trembling slightly as they desperately tried to hold back tears. After realizing there was no use being dishonest with the first borne, you shook their head.

Lucifer nodded, gesturing into the room. You stepped aside, wiping your eyes as he entered. You shut the door quietly behind him, pausing as he picked up your phone to look at the song you had been listening to. He scrolled down to the lyrics, reading them over carefully. With each line, his heart ached more and more- not only for you, but for himself.

“Why are you listening to this song?” Lucifer pondered aloud, turning to face you. “And why so late tonight?”

You sighed as you approached your bed, sinking down onto the push mattress. Lucifer quickly joined, watching your expressions carefully.

“I talked to him earlier tonight.” You stated flatly, trying to stop the shaking in your voice.

Lucifer raised a brow. “Your father?”

You nod, rubbing your forearm. “Yeah...”

“Ah- I’m assuming he gave you the usual- lectures, degradation, and insults?”

You scoffed. “Pretty much, yeah. But...” You paused, turning your head away from him.

Lucifer took your hand in his, squeezing it gently. “But?”

You take a deep breath. “It felt different today, I guess. Like, after seeing all of the texts in our group chat between him and my siblings happily sharing childhood pictures. Every single one of them, they were smiling and having fun.”

Lucifer nodded, squeezing their hand once more to reassure them that he was here.

“I...” they bit their lip, “...I couldn’t find a single one that brought back good memories. I look miserable in all of them- even the ones where I am smiling. It just makes me think...like...Is there something wrong with me..? Why does he treat me so terribly? What did I do to deserve..?”

You burst into tears, snatching your hand away from lucifer and covering your eyes to try to hide how shameful you felt for acting such a way in front of the Avatar of Pride. The pain you felt ran deep, the mixture of resentment, grief, hurt, insecurity, self-blame, and anger all overflowing out of you like a waterfall.

Lucifer felt his heart splinter as they sobbed, feeling the emotion flooding their aura with each shuddered breath and wail in agony. He inched closer, pulling them into a tight embrace. He rubbed their back as they cried into his chest, gripping the lapel of his vest tightly to ground themself.

As they cried, his mind wandered back to the song lyrics, reflecting on his own experience with his father. It was different than Mc’s experience, sure- but it’s not like Lucifer forgot the numerous lies he was told for the sake of manipulation, the way his own father would shame him or degrade him for anything he did that didn’t fit his “grand plan,” the over-the-top expectations that Lucifer tried to meet, but was never able to, the emotional distance...and he remembered the punishments far too vividly. Not only for him, but for his brothers as well.

Lucifer gripped your back, feeling tears threaten to spill from his own eyes as memories of the toxicity within his own family lineage. He closed his eyes, trying to regulate his breath as he rested his chin atop your trembling head.

You sat together like this for quite some time- not that either of you was really keeping track. When you had expelled all the tears your body could release, Lucifer finally said his piece.

“Mc, you did nothing to deserve such terrible treatment. A parent is supposed to love their children unconditionally, and your Father clearly failed in that moral duty.” Lucifer paused, taking a deep breath. “Nothing will change what has happened to you, or the fact that he still treats you this way, but I can assure you that you don’t deserve it- not one bit.”

You nodded somberly, though seemingly remained unconvinced. Lucifer rubbed his thumb across your shoulder as he waited for you to find the words to speak, allowing you to take as much time as you needed.

“I just...” you hiccupped, your breaths still slightly uneven. “I...I never got to have a dad- not like my siblings did. And I...I just wish I could have that. I want it so bad it h-hurts.”

Lucifer closed his eyes, taking another deep breath, though this time it was his turn to shed tears. You snap your attention to him and pressed a hand to Lucifer’s thigh, concerned over what you had said to produce such a reaction.

“I understand that feeling, Mc.” He murmured quietly, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “And it’s something I don’t think I myself have properly addressed. Perhaps, while we should grieve the loss of a relationship that will never be, we should also keep close the individuals who cherish us for who we are- warts and all.”

You nod, chewing on his words.  Inching closer, you rest your head against his chest, finding comfort in his steady heartbeat. “Then...could you stay with me a little longer tonight, Luci? I don’t...I don’t think I want to be alone right now.”

Lucifer pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, clutching you tighter to his chest. “Of course, my love. I’m not going anywhere.”

[squidthechaotickid]

Made a lmk sona/oc finally >:] Their name is Void and they r so very silly 2 me <33

Dropping their backstory + info under the readmore

Okay so. Mk was having a nice time in his apartment, having a wonderful dream bc he was asleep, when he was woken up by a sudden CRASH. He woke up, looked at the weird shadow clone of himself, took a deep breath, and decided to lay back down for a few minutes. Meanwhile the shadow clone is still messing wt his stuff.

Finally, he gets up, drags the clone down to Pigsy's, and calls Monkie King. The clone kinda just sits there while Mk and Monkie King (who was there in like 5 seconds) start debating what to do. Monkie King suggests getting Macaque (who's name the clone repeats) and Mk agrees (much to Pigsy's dismay, but hey, it's either that or let the weird clone hang around.)

Wukong went off to find Macaque while Mk started to mess around with the clone. It kept repeating random words and copying several of his actions. Piggy thought he should leave it alone but Mk ignored him.

After like 20 minutes, Macaque, already knowing abt the clone (he saw it while shadow traveling and thought it was weird,) came in with Wukong and was basically like "I have no clue what that is but it's definitely some sort of shadow thing. Mk did you accidentally make a shadow clone bc that's my thing usually not Wukong's.

Mk confirmed he didn't, and they started to debate what it was. Somehow, Macaque and Wukong started fighting, and Mk tried to calm things down. The more upset Mk got, the more agitated the clone got, with only Pigsy noticing. He only managed to get their attention after the clone began to screech, before dipping into the shadows and disappearing.

Everyone began to panic, except Macaque, who quickly followed and found the clone close by, outside in an alley. He tried to bring it back inside but it instead began to fight, summoning its own shadow version of Mk's staff.

The others rushed out at the noise, and the fight began. The clone kept targeting Monkie King and Macaque, while completely avoiding Mk. Finally, the fight ends after the clone dips into the shadows one too many times, and begins to "dissolve." They leave, leaving the gang to wonder what that even was.

After several months and other, more pressing issues (aka multiple demon attacks,) they mostly forgot about the clone. Until, one day, a kid looking oddly like Mk walks into Pigsy's. They introduce themself as Void, Mk's shadow. They explained that they weren't exactly sure what they were, just that they were born from the shadows, and was specifically connected to Mk, as they could feel certain bits of what he felt. (Both physical pain and emotional pain)

They explained that they had spent months watching and learning from the world, teaching themself to speak and changing their appearance so they were no longer a clone, and instead their own person. They apologized for the previous fight, stating that Mk getting upset had filtered to them, and they didn't know how to cope with the sudden emotion, as they'd never felt anything like it, being born literally an hour before.

Mk was ecstatic, and decided to drag them around town so they could experience it outside of the shadows, also inviting Mei. The trip went mostly okay, though Void did have to stop the trip early because they were getting overwhelmed by the new sensations. They became friends with the others, and Void now shows up every once in a while to help or just to visit.

Other facts, now that I'm done wt the backstory lmao.

They can't shadow travel for long or often. It's kinda like a drop of water in the sea; they're a shadow, and if they stay too long, the shadows will consume them and make them a part of it yet again.

that's why they started to dissolve after the traveling too many times during the fight.

That being said, they still have to every once in a while. They'll feel sick if they don't.

While the sun doesn't harm them, it will make them feel exhausted after a bit.

They feel everything Mk feels, though not as extreme, and they can usually tell which are his and which are theirs.

That being said, when Mk had the whole thing with his monkie form? They couldn't control their own form, it was terrifying. They were lucky they were alone in a forest outside the city at the time, because they were completely out of it.

They based their look off of various things they found in the city, such as clothes they saw in stores or colors they saw that looked nice. They kept Mk's headband and based their hair partially on Macaque and Wukong's.

They can't change their base form in any way Mk can't. They ended out wearing a binder, just like Mk does.

They don't know what a gender is.

They have an identity crisis every other week.

They keep trying to separate themself from Mk, but demons keep mistaking the two and it really doesn't help the identity thing.

When they were first learning to speak, they stuttered over words and spoke formal. As they got used to speaking, they became more leaned back and used more slang.

[crimsonxe]

Alright let’s get some fucking shit correct here @ashelyskies

a) I didn’t say K/din’s case wasn’t problematic, you fucking jackass. I did say that K/din’s case was 8 (EIGHT) fucking years ago with more of a case of ignorant views vs. bigotry. Which my sentiment is backed up by her response to one of the parties where she herself states not holding present people to the guillotine for their past shit. Anyway setting that aside: That whole thing was apologized for by one of the parties involved in it before anything was mentioned to the public (so wasn’t for brownie points) w/ said apology being accepted by her with a statement about not going after people for their past (cause really want to make sure this part gets across); yet this was still brought up and said party was still thrown to the damn wolves regardless of them doing every damn thing right. Mostly because this part wasn’t part of the initial post and was only brought up in said reply to the other party.

Now this ignorance issue is something that can be applied to multiple people, especially with ones raised in certain areas and in a pre-LGBT+ mainstreaming era where someone doesn’t fucking know better. Someone 9 years prior uses a slur, then as they get older realize how bad it is and is horrified at using it in the past. Do I categorize that person as bigoted? No I don’t. Now take that person and have them in present continuing to use the term with full knowledge of its offensive nature? Yeah, that person is a bigot. Though this distinction eludes outrage culture types (usually of the far-left variety) that think the person deserves to be considered a bigot regardless of growth or change. You grew up in a place that was forward thinking and/or in more modern times? Good for your ass, not everyone fucking got that (this will be elaborated on further down).

b) The medical side of things: corps dodge any expense they fucking can and that has nothing to do with LGBT+ status. They’re just shitty and cheap. There’s nothing I’ve seen that goes towards it being at all tied to trans status. That’s not defending RT, its seeing them as what they are a corp; hell it doesn’t even paint them in a particularly good light cause still shitty.

c) Mi/ca presented a case where she walked in to see a white board with a slur on it, as if that was just a thing at RT and/or was meant for her to see it. The full context however: People were doing a damn South Park reference, the slur wasn’t fully there as per the reference, and it wasn’t meant to be seen by anyone but them. If anything it fits the idea of two 20-something idiot SP fans  latching onto distasteful SP “jokes”. Still shitty, but context puts more onus on SP that is being referenced and the parties being idiotic 20-somethings. NOT an intentional racist attack on Mi/ca and/or other PoC that’d come across it. It was also from years ago (a recurring theme), considering that episode of SP was from 2007 (yes I googled it) on top of that. It’s called being a dumbass 20-something fan that watched a show that leans on edgy distasteful “humor”. Not only does it only go towards what RT/AH was, “dudebro edgy humor”, but doesn’t reflect current RT/AH attitudes.

Now for anyone that follows me and wants anything to do with this person? Do whatever the fuck you want, I don’t care and I’m not your parent. I’m someone that grew up in a southern state that has experience with let’s say complicated/ nuanced views as a result of it. I used to watch South Park and know the mindset of a 20-something year old in regards to it. Also while I’ve never used certain slurs, I have in my ignorance used the G slur till I ran across information that corrected how to refer to Romani cause the G slur is the only word ever used in reference to them. I have used the r word and honestly still have to fight my own ingrained response towards it, when heated; because it was something that I grew up with and had to learn to not resort to. People are not fucking born perfect or even taught how to be perfect, there’s a growth period and an intent element. Which is exactly what my point is. I’m an LGBT+ center-leftist that grew up surrounded by the right wing ignorant people including friends and family. I’ve seen some evolve from as the times have as well as their ignorance being removed who deserve to be allowed to not be called fucking bigots for past bullshit. ftr that isn’t about RT either, that’s about irl; so yeah miss my fucking ass with the outrage culture bullshit that takes a “forever damaged/tainted”/”irredeemable” approach to the subject. Now in regards to RT: shitty things were said and perpetuated in the past by ignorant younger people of the time and corps are shitty penny-pinchers that care about expenses or hell with RT management’s impression just completely inept at remembering what they agreed to pay for. I won’t get swept into the outrage culture bullshit and have my own views on things.

Now I will say to definitely go fuck your damn self for trying to frame my post in the light that your fucking ass did. I guess if someone doesn’t line up perfectly in-step with your ass, then you have to try to smear them where you can. Unfortunately for you, I ran out of “giving a shit about others’ views of me” a long ass time ago; probably around the time I got tired of burying my LGBT+ status and started using my voice as I wished. In the past meant clashing against incels and right wingers; recently its meant clashing against far-leftists who both use similar ass tactics. I have disgust towards right-wingers and just anger towards the far-leftists that more times than not shoot the overall left’s causes in the foot.  “Go woke, go broke (right wing) = outrage culture (far-left).

[the-narwhals-awaken]

For context, somebody in my writing discord server mentioned Eldritch Bad Wolf, and as the server cosmic horror enthusiast, I thought I'd have a go.

... we can go a lot into how eldritch stuff actually works- for the real hit of eldritch impact is not in the knowing, in the expanding into a new world and plane of existence, but in coming back to what you knew and losing the ability to explain- you understand it, you understand it perfectly, and yet nobody will believe you and you cannot convince a soul.

in relevant context, you've got Rose taking action- direct action, something needed, and looking. She Sees. She Knows. She Changes. (the last based upon your personal preference and AU of choice). And then she goes back. On the most typical path (not that other options are bad, this is just the most common one) she loses the one person she knew might be able to understand, might have the context to understand her and what she did, and by the time she knows and trusts the new him again, either she's put it to the side as a later problem or he's proven that it's not going to end as well as she needs/wants it to be- as we've shown before, nothing against Ten, but he does take running from his problems to a significantly unhealthy degree even going off of the Doctor's usual scale. So she can't tell anyone- can't get a proper physical response, the hugs and comfort that human bodies still need. And so she changes in silence, watched and helped only by the TARDIS- who is amazing, but is also far beyond the scope and scale of one Bad Wolf still trapped in three dimensions and moving through the fourth. She becomes something new, something even she, who has seen all of Time and Space, has never seen before.

And there are consequences to that. Mistakes she makes- whether of the pushing too far and gaining the consequences (screaming migranes, weak spots in Time, etc) or not knowing what to do or how to process things leading to incorrect or less correct options, and the usual frailties of a human mind and morals behind a being of unimaginable temporal power.

And fragile human shells are not meant to contain such power. The children of Gallifrey, born to this and specifically adapted over millenia of work and centuries of life to exposure to temporal radiation were not meant to hold even a fraction of what lies in her body even in its resting state, so much that only sensors meant to understand the Vortex itself can even detect anything beyond her sheer presence. Her hair is the first thing to go- a natural blonde, now, instead of her dyed shade. At first, it doesn't seem so bad. She gets stronger, faster, gets better reflexes and better perception of what's going on. She heals quicker, more thoroughly. Aches and pains from long days of travel and running fade.

Then it starts turning against her. Things repair too fast to strengthen again, and the ache of healing muscle and ligament and tendon becomes part of her life- too much, too fast, taking too much energy. She sleeps either hours at a stretch or barely minutes, but her mind doesn't always keep up with her body's demands- whether to move move move or to stop, energy sapped away. She's always hungry, or never hungry. Too hot, or too cold. And sometimes, late at night, when the Doctor's at the other end of the ship and she's sitting alone in a dark corner of the hallways where she wandered in an attempt to wear herself out a bit she sees the gold swirl away from her again, twisting away from her form like her appearance is only the way it is because she presumes it to be.

Did her eyes always have that ring around the pupil? Were they always that light of a shade? Did she always look like what she sees in the mirror, or is it based on her own memory and self-perception?

Her piercings close. They were flaws, scars, and they vanish over the course of three weeks- closing up from the inside out till there isn't even a faint dip to show where they'd been for over a decade. Old scars begin to fade- first, the ones from childhood, little memories that were already half-gone from time and bleedover from the advanced technology they used to help heal themselves in the TARDIS. Then newer ones- the remnants of bruised knuckles that built up from years of questionable punches, the old marks left over from when knives slipped in the kitchen, the traces of her mistake at sixteen with Jimmy. Then the ones she'd gained while traveling- little burns and nicks and scrapes and lines, little things that might have eventually built up but hadn't ever been anything much, just another memory.

Her skin is the best it's ever been- the only flaws the callouses she built up from running, from climbing, from the life they live, and even those are only as big as they need to be and still softer than they should seem. There are no marks on her skin- why would there be? She is so full of power that any mark was removed.

Sometimes, she worries a little. Her past made her, and yet she is losing the traces of it every day. With every scar that fades, every little freckle and scrape and remnant of life that vanishes, every little lump and strand of hair out of place that disappears like they were never there, she loses the little reminders. That she was human, that she lived, that she was mortal and just like them. Her past will always be her past- she knows that much, that when she was all of it she made sure she would always exist, but she also knows the power of the little details. Slight changes that could throw whole worlds into play. Single interactions that would start new stories on their tracks. Countless possibilities all so similar, almost unnoticeably different.

The Doctor doesn't say anything. Part of her thinks he doesn't notice. Part of her thinks he's just scared. Part of her doesn't want to know. So she doesn't say anything either.

The first time she looks in the mirror to see golden eyes staring back, she flinches.

Eventually, she knows, she will not.

[songbirdsandsugar-moved]

@lettherebemonsters Part 2 of that AU from last night because I'm a terrible terrible person who refuses to suffer alone with their thoughts.

Billie had done as Lucy requested and sent for Gunpowder's corpse. There was an uncomfortable gnawing in the pit of her stomach as she watched the pieces of his body be laid out on the table. Putting him back together to the best of Umbrella's abilities. She wasn't entirely sure what Lucy was thinking, but she knew whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

She'd tried to talk her out of seeing him, but Lucy insisted. Deep down, she couldn't blame her though. Of course Lucy would want to properly say goodbye.

"Are you sure about this?" Billie asked, hesitant to let Lucy go into the lab where what was left of him was laid out on a lab table. The pictures paled in comparison to what he actually looked like. And Lucy was just days away from giving birth. She didn't need the added pain.

"I am," she nodded. She didn't look like herself. She was paler than usual. Dark circles marred the skin around bloodshot eyes. Billie could take one look and see that Lucy hadn't been sleeping. She couldn't help but worry about the girls. She was concerned for all of them, especially with Lucy in this state.

There was another brief moment of hesitation. Her hand lingering on the handle before opening the door for Lucy. All she could do was watch in silence as the new widow slowly approached the table. It felt like watching a movie. Lucy seemed to be moving in slow motion as her hand lifted to caress what was left of Gunpowder's face before leaning down to press her lips to his forehead.

Billie couldn't quite see what Lucy was doing, and just assumed that she was grieving as anyone would. It wasn't until Lucy spoke to her again that she realized she shouldn't underestimate the supe. "You can bring him back?" It was half question, half statement. A tone in Lucy's voice that was somewhere between hope and fear.

"Lucy..." Billie could only blink for a moment, processing what her friend was asking. "Lucy he's...he's in pieces." Billie's own emotions threatened to crack through her carefully crafted facade. "Even if I could bring someone back from the dead, I...." she trailed off, shaking her head slightly as she realized her friend wasn't even listening to her.

Lucy had her own agenda. Her own plans for her husband's body. He would not be going into the ground anytime soon. Seeds were sprinkled over the charred and torn flesh where he'd been ripped apart. All Billie could do was stay quiet, watching in both awe and horror as the seeds began to sprout. Stems and vines taking root and pulling the pieces of his body back together.

"You can bring him back." It wasn't questioning this time. "I know that Umbrella has a lot of unethical projects. I mean....you turned him into a werewolf after all...you can bring him back."

"Even if I could, I'm not sure its a good idea." Billie tried to keep her tone soft and even. There was too much risk in trying to bring him back from the dead. "There's no guarantee he'd still be himself, especially with the kind of trauma he'd have...you have to think about the kids too, Luce."

"I am thinking about the kids!" Lucy's voice rose this time, her pain seeping into her tone. She turned to face Billie. "Why should the girls have to grow up without him? Faolan will be born any day now, without him." Tears began to well in Lucy's eyes. "I still need him. I spent my entire life waiting for him to come back to me. I will not lose him now!" The tears began to fall, her body shook as each word increased in volume. "Did you know Vought said he begged for his life? The security footage showed him cowering, begging. And some asshole killed him anyways. Mutilated him. And for what?"

There was a pause as Lucy tried to catch her breath, struggling now that she could no longer contain her emotions. Her next words were said through gritted teeth, and Billie knew Lucy meant every one of them. And they'd only scratched the surface of what she was capable of. "I am going to level this entire city. Vought is going to crumble. And I'm going to put his murderer in the ground. I am asking you, as my friend, to help me. Don't make me live without him."

[moonsinkfoxgirl]

all the 30s! <3

30. favourite tv show(s)

Utena, Aria, Madoka, Symphogear, Flip Flappers, probably some more I'm not thinking of right now

31. 3 random facts

and yet more of these...hnnnmmm

In either his book Understanding Comics: The Invisible Art or its sequel (I don't remember which >.> it was probably the second one?) Scott McCloud actually predicts the fact that with the advent of computers comics would return to the form where instead of discrete pages you just kind of scroll through a continuous canvas

but this was before smartphones so he thought they would scroll sideways on a computer screen, as opposed to the scroll downwards standard of webtoons that has now become a significant chunk of the world's webcomic market

he figured this would happen in part because there are historical examples of such comics: the Bayeux tapestry for example tells the story of the Norman Conquest, and while there are no panels there's deliberate scenes in it in chronological order from left to right; the restriction of the page was born with the book, and with new technologies it makes sense that we would move away from that

not a fact but my personal opinion on this is that it is kind of a sad thing in practice, not because of anything inherent to the scrolling but simply because smartphone screens have a really awkward format (small and thin) that is significantly more limiting than pages of physical books ever were, so webtoons end up extremely linear and with less opportunity for interesting panel layouts, making the format sort of lesser...

32. are your friends mainly girls or guys?

girls^^

33. something you want to learn

would love to able to draw simple pixel art and stuff so I can make a video game

34. most embarrassing moment

hmmm idk maybe that one time in high school when i destroyed my spine by jumping from a significant height with my eyes closed, thus taking the entire impact force with my back instead of by having my legs give in

35. favourite subject

I liked almost all subjects in school, German maybe, I liked interpreting short stories and stuff

36. 3 dreams you want to fulfill?

hmmmmm

make a video game and/or visual novel

get a job that doesn't consume half my life

get my website to a state I can actually be proud of instead of the entirely unfinished mess it currently is

37. favourite actor/actress

I don't know any of those

38. favourite comedian(s)

those guys who do Die Anstalt are pretty okay but i wouldn't describe them as favorites just the only ones who come to mind because I don't watch comedians usually

39. favourite sport(s)

chess maybe if that counts, but even then I'm not particularly interested in the contemporary sport

[mrfandomgage]

Lynn folds papers as neatly as he can as FemGoat watches, sipping a smoothie. Catharine and Goat idle as the clock ticks to the end of their shift. Rags, strolls in the store. Goat takes his order. The two talk in excitement for their evening plans.

"I'll take a number six. Just the burger", Rags orders, "so what are we watching tonight?"

"Gage said 'The Mario Movie'", Goat explains, "seems to be ancient history, but I couldn't really find any archival material, but a lot of things he gets are fun, albeit out of date".

"What's with that guy and stuff from a thousand years ago?"

Catharine chimes in, "he's an ancient god that was born a thousand years ago".

Rags giggles as he inserts his card to the reader to pay for food, "Good one Cat, I'll go over to my usual space and wait".

As Rags trots away, Catharine punches Goat in the arm, shout whispering at him, "You didn't tell him?"

Goat whispers back, "Gage doesn't hide his powers, regularly, I'm rather impressed Rags didn't notice how bright the stars in his cloak are or that he just occasionally floats through the air, or that he moves inhumanely fast, like teleportation".

"Is that really your excuse for not telling your friend?"

"I mean, I don't find it a problem!"

"Hey Catharine!" Rags calls out as he walks over again, "is Sharla coming to watch the movie with us?"

Catharine sighs at Goat, before turning to Rags saying, "Yeah, my car's out of commission today, you wanna hitch a ride with us or something?"

"I wanted to ask her if she uses a hair dye or if her hair is naturally like that".

"I get with the pigments and what else that it might not look it, but like my hair, it's also natural".

"Damn, it's a really nice shade of dark blue too".

"I can ask my sibling about hair dye brands", Goat says, "they're really into coloring their hair, they may even know some good overall fur dying products. Most are shit from what I hear".

"God, yeah, they are", Rags complains, "They're either really impotent and get washed out after a day or two, or the at home product you bought is actually made for you to go to a specialist to do it, who most likely already has what you want, so you're paying more and god is that frustrating".

Catharine hands Rags his burger and she says, "we can make laser guns, and bio efficient cybernetics, but if you want pink fur, it's only gonna last you a day".

"I mean, it's more just a nitpick honestly", Rags sighs, "oh, can I get a knife?" After obtaining his plastic cutlery, Rags walks out of sight.

Catherine goes back to whispering, "So you don't tell your friend you live with an ancient God?"

"Technically we were born at the same time, our universes just had different states of-", Goat tries explaining.

Catharine cuts him off, "I don't care of multiverse mumbo jumbo! You told me!"

"You've been my friend since middle school, he's been my bully in that time".

"Does that make you any less of friends now?"

"No, but it doesn't mean I want to go to him for these things".

Catharine sighs and gives up. The duo return to working. There are three minutes left to go in their clocks. Lynn gives FemGoat a paper flower, to her delight. Goat doodles by the register as Sharla walks in and waves to Catharine. The two chatter amongst themselves as Goat draws an OC of his. More coworkers come in and the current person in charge gives them the go ahead to leave. As the party start heading out, Rags calls out to Goat.

"HEY! Can you come with me in my car Goat? I wanna show you something", Rags explains.

Goat shrugs, "sure, why not. Catch ya guys later!" Goat walks over to Rags.

Rags hands him half the burger he bought, "I thought you might be hungry as well".

"There's no cheese on this".

Rags scratches the back of his head, "well, yeah, couldn't give you the best part!"

Goat shrugs as he eats and follows Rags to his car, "something important you wanna show me?"

Rags gets in his car to the driver seat, "not really, just..."

Goat sits in passenger, "ah, I get it, ya just wanted to hang out more, that's alright".

Rags shouts, flustered, "no you idiot! I mean. Well, I do like the company... ... ... I've never been to your house before and need help getting there".

"Ah, alright weirdo, I'll tell ya how to drive a straight line".

"You walk to work in just a straight line?"

"Yeah, basically".

"Can we take a detour then?"

"Knock yourself out".

Rags pulls out of his space, and drives. The two talk about work, and a few events that happened. Rags mocks crushes Goat had, and Goat jokes about Rags' last boyfriend. After a few minutes Goat falls asleep in the warmth of the car and his clothes. The drive becomes quiet. Rags puts on classical music on low volume settings. Rags stops by a rather large and nice looking house. He opens the door and tries closing it as quietly as possible, and he runs into the house as quickly as he can. He soon returns seeing Goat still sleeping. He quietly opens the door and enters.

"I've never seen ya outside of work in anything other than a crop top T, and those short shorts", Goat remarks.

"JESUS CHRIST!" Rags screams, "You could've been sitting up before this!"

Goat stretches, "thought it'd be funny. This your parents house or something?"

Rags sighs and puts his head down on the wheel, "no. It's mine, they bought it for me, and pay my bills, and the gardener. Perks of being an only child I guess..."

Goat pops his neck, "well it looks nice, got anything fancy?"

Rags speaks, increasingly getting quieter, "there's an indoor theater, a pool, a bedroom..."

Concerned, Goat asks, "what's wrong?"

Rags sighs sitting back in the seat, he replies, "I'm lonely, I get out sometimes and have an occasional hookup, maybe even someone to be with for a few weeks, but really, most of the time I'm just... there. By myself. In my room. Maybe reading, maybe playing one of those old games you and Fandom like. Maybe I go and cook myself something or just order takeout because I have the money for it anyway. I'm kinda excited to meet your family".

"I don't really live with my family, they're more like roommates".

"Oh. I guess I didn't need to go and change then".

"The sweater looks nice, and you look good in jeans".

"Thanks Gage".

"Anytime Richard. Besides, when will I meet your family?"

Rags laughs, for a moment before going quiet. With a sigh he asks, "how do I get to your house?"

"Just drive to the mall, and I'll guide you from there".

Rags pulls out from the house. He drives down the road. Goat tries to make small talk but Rags turns up the volume of the classical music. He turns it up too high to where Goat holds his head and ears, Rags immediately turning it down. Goat gets the message and watches outside the window, without a word. Rags pulls into the mall's parking lot and parks, turns off the gas and rests his head on the wheel.

"I don't know where my parents are", Rags explains.

"Huh?" Goat hums.

"I only remember them being in my life up until I was ten. On my tenth birthday I was given two gifts, that house, and a caretaker... who later became my gardener. She's really nice".

"How do you know they're still paying for-"

"My gardener still gets paid every month, and the electricity is still on, I don't even receive the mail for these bills".

"Oh".

"I wish you could meet my parents, I want to see them too, maybe at least you can see your own parents".

"I could, the same way I could stab myself, but I don't really want to hurt myself".

"... I didn't..."

"You're good. Want me to come over some time?"

"... ... ... it's over an hour walk".

"When has that stopped me?"

"I'll just pick you up, don't worry about it. Now, where do we go?"

"Thanks man. Ok so you're gonna need to go east from here".

[crellanstein]

Prodigious

I find it odd how the fandom focuses so much on Aang’s childhood being ruined when he learned he was the Avatar at 12, but there’s very little talk about how discovering she was the Avatar as a toddler affected Korra’s life and how she was raised.

But we’ll circle back to that...

Because this is a good starting point to talk about one of the most prevalent themes in the story, which the mainstream discussion of tends to only focus on a few characters -- That is the Child Prodigy. 

We’ll start with the two most obvious. The ones we always talk about.

Azula.

The clearest example of your typical child prodigy (if there is anything typical about a prodigy). Azula showed early mastery of very advanced Fire-Bending techniques, and is the only Fire-Bender to use blue flames, which was intended to make her stand out amongst the other villains but is also indicative that her Fire-Bending is more pure and powerful (blue flame is produced when burning pure O2 or fuel without contaminant at a very high temperature). 

All this lead to her being praised and favored by Ozai as a child, but as double-edged swords go, this also meant she had a lot of pressure on her shoulders to never fail, and she rarely did. Her ego matched her talent, and let’s be honest she was the baddest bitch the show had ever seen. Conquering Ba Sing Se, defeating the Avatar in combat, and dropping some of the most devastating lines of dialogue in villain history; she was a force nobody wanted to reckon with. 

And that become a problem for one asshole in particular...

Being jealous of his own child is just one item on a laundry list of reasons why this guy is the worst father in the history of fathers. Azula had begun to outshine him with her victories, and Ozai’s maniacal ego couldn’t handle that, so he left her behind to babysit the Fire Nation while he went out to burn/conquer the world, which also was her idea.

And while this wasn’t the only thing that aided in her demise, it certainly was the final straw which sent her spiraling down into this...

In the end Azula is a sad example of how certain unfair expectations are placed upon talented children, and the more they succeed, the more these expectations grow and weigh on the them until they either disappoint those looking down on them or surpass and embarrass their elders.

It is a lose-lose situation which inevitably destroys them.

There is a similar example of the child prodigy, but his story goes a little different.

Aang.

Even as a twelve/thirteen year-old boy Aang by far has the most impressive stats among any character in the Avatar universe.

Basically mastering 3 of the 4 Elements in less than a year, after mastering Air by the time he is twelve (not to mention inventing his own Air-bending move, the Air scooter). 

Aang is an example of a child prodigy who had too much thrust onto him at too young an age because of the talent he showed; because of this he panicked and ran away, and the world was worse off for it. 

Aang/Sokka/Katara’s story is all about how in times of War, responsibilities normally handled by adults are pushed onto kids who then have to grow up very fast in order to deal with it all.

The message is clear. War robs the young of their childhoods. 

Now, let’s talk about a different kind of child prodigy.

The Unacknowledged. 

Yes, of course I’m talking about Toph, the greatest Earth-Bender to ever live.

Because of her blindness, Toph’s family tried to keep her sheltered and safe by hiding her from the world. Refusing to believe she could ever be more than helpless. Anyone who has seen the show knows that is far from the truth.

But because her potential went unseen, there were some negative effects to her personality. Initially, she resented her parents, and rebelled; which established a certain level of independence, a bad attitude, and a hot-headed streak. Over time spent with the Gaang these behaviors subsided because she finally had friends and they accepted her for who she was. By the end of the series she was fully willing to accept aid from them when she needed it, like holding on to Sokka’s arm in environment where her bending couldn’t help her “see”. 

Toph’s story is a foil to Azula’s, both showed immense talent and badassery, but while recognition of Azula lead to ever-mounting pressure for her to succeed; the lack of recognition for Toph created a need for her to be acknowledged and set an undercurrent of frustration which leads to her acting out in the ways she does.

The lesson to take from Toph’s story is not to shelter your kid from the world out of fear for their safety, and to be open to recognizing their talents, not shun them.

Next are two more Unacknowledged.

Katara and Sokka.       

Their story, and the reason behind their circumstances, is one of the more complicated and nuanced ones in the series, so here we’ll focus on how it fits into the subject of discussion.

Because of the War, Katara was robbed not only of her mother but also of any Southern Masters to train her, and any role models Sokka could have looked up to left with his father to fight. Because of this Katara’s potential and Sokka’s genius went unacknowledged not due to neglect but rather due to circumstance. (Yes, I think Sokka is a genius, how many 15 yr olds do you know that can plan an invasion, design submarines, and spit poetry off the cuff?).

This is a further example of how War robs kids of necessary childhood experiences, and these two robberies had particular effects on both Katara and Sokka’s character developments.

Sokka had the responsibility of protecting his home put upon him at a young age. The men of his tribe leaving prevented him from completing his rite of manhood until the Gaang ran into Bato of the Water Tribe, and early on Sokka was constantly trying to prove himself as a man and a leader. Sokka is one of the smarter characters of the series, but he rarely got credit for it until the third season. Not to mention that because he wasn’t a bender he often seemed less useful than the others. The circumstances of war made his talent go unnoticed and because of that he often was unsure of himself and overcompensated to prove something.

Speaking of talent going unnoticed.

Katara is definitely one of the more talented benders of the series. After training herself for years with little progress, she essentially mastered Water-Bending in a few weeks under Master Pakku. While her anger towards the Fire-Nation mostly centers around the loss of her mother, it can’t be ignored that the delay in her training was a direct result of the Fire-Nations’ actions.  Toph’s anger and frustration vented itself as rebellion. However, the same frustration and anger is within Katara, but because she wasn’t as natural a bender as Toph she sought to learn and be respected, and when that was denied to her is when that anger bubbled to the surface in some terrifying ways. 

While Toph’s talent went unnoticed because of her families neglect, Katara and Sokka’s wasn’t acknowledged because there was nobody to acknowledge it. Because of that both brother and sister wanted to prove themselves to the world.

And then there is Zuko.

I know what you’re thinking. Zuko wasn’t a prodigy, his Fire-Bending skill didn’t catch up with Azula’s until the finale and he never mastered Lightning-Bending, but this section is about the Unacknowledged.

Zuko had many other talents besides Fire-Bending, he was a master swordsmen, and was able to successfully break into every secure facility he attempted in the show (which was almost every secure facility the show featured).  Unfortunately, these talents were never recognized, because the only thing the royal family cared about was bending ability (It’s possible the reason he learned the sword was because he lacked skill in Fire-Bending). 

As per usual with Zuko, this part of his tale is quite sad. Many can relate to being outshined by a sibling, and when it becomes all too clear that one cannot match another’s talent it’s quite understandable to focus on what they do excel at, but even then there is no promise of recognition for their own talent. Zuko was even mocked by his father during the solar eclipse when Ozai tried baiting him into attacking with his swords. 

This lack of recognition is one of many sad aspects of Zuko’s early life, but it is a definitive example of one of the hardest unacknowledged prodigy’s cross to bear. The Outshone prodigy, one whose talents are never noticed because a bigger and brighter star stands in the way of such recognition, and arguably the most frustrating type mentioned here. Toph/Sokka/Katara all came from situations were there was no recognition being given to them or anyone, but Zuko had to bear watching massive amounts of praise be piled on to his sister while he and his accomplishments went by the way side.

Ozai summed up the situation best.

“Azula was born lucky, Zuko was lucky to be born”

Alright now where have I been going with all this?

So, far we’ve covered a lot of wrong ways to treat a child, whether they show talent or not, and how the circumstances of war can also take many things from children.

But what happened to Korra?

(Before we get into to this I should state that I like Korra, and the purpose of this is not to bash her as a character or her arc, but rather to give a little of my insight into it.)

It’s well established that Aang was told of his heritage too young, and that was a detriment on his development into an adult, but what would have happened if he realized his powers himself not long after he could walk? We’ll never know, but we do get to see the effects it had on Korra. 

When she revealed herself as the Avatar, Korra set her entire life in a new direction, and because Aang tasked the White Lotus with finding and training her that direction was out of her control. There are two key differences between Korras’ and other Avatars’ lives.

1. She grew up in isolation on a White Lotus compound.

Every Avatar before Korra we know of spent a portion of their early lives traveling the world in order to master the elements; along this journey they not only learned how to bend the other 3 elements, buy also many things about the 3 other nations and the world they are tasked to protect as a whole. By confining Korra in safety and bringing the masters to her the White Lotus deprived Korra of this opportunity to learn and grow and understand the world and the people within in. It also deprived her of learning modern bending styles until she reached Republic City.

While this might have kept Korra safe from the Red Lotus, it grew within her a naiveté about how the world worked, and because of this when she actually did venture out into the world she was terribly unprepared for it.

2.  She was trained and mastered 3 of the elements by the time she was 16.

Most Avatars don’t know they have this power until they reach 16 and then they spend several years learning to control it. Korra’s natural talent in the bending lead to her training being expedited not by necessity like Aang’s, but due to her talent and eagerness. Korra excelled at the physical part of being the Avatar and because of this by the time she reached maturity she had become over-confident in her abilities and true to what her Fire-Bending master said in Ep.1 she lacked restraint.

I’m not saying her bending isn’t great, but rather because it is so great it’s her go-to solution to anything, and she enjoys that so she uses it with enthusiastic gusto and not a lot of thinking before striking.

This overconfidence coupled with her naiveté of the world is what lead to many of her rash decisions and actions, most of which had negative consequences, and I believe are the reason behind some fan are dissatisfied with her. Aang had been almost the complete opposite, even by the age of twelve he was an experienced world traveler and an incredibly humble guy. 

Some may have been dissatisfied by these character decisions, but they served a purpose, they are only the beginning of her arc. The internal challenge Korra must overcome through 4 seasons is to humble herself before the world, and learn from it. This was finally achieved in the 4th season when the metal poisoning in her body forces her to face others in the world as equals, only then had she completed her journey.

And why did it all go this way?

Because she is a very unique child prodigy, what she demonstrates in the first episode of LOK would be akin to a toddler playing the violin or hitting a three-pointer; she could bend 3 elements close to just after learning to walk. That is the kind of prodigious talent rarely seen because it is mostly impossible. How does a rational person handle a child like that? 

It’s a tough question, and something this essay has been circling around the whole time. Each example here is the wrong way to handle talented and different children, but what is the right way?

As always look to Iroh.

Who treated his surrogate son Zuko with both respect and compassion. 

Unlike Toph’s parents, Iroh worried over Zuko’s well being, but also allowed him to be independent, make his own decisions, and take his own risks.

Unlike the Nomad Leaders, he didn’t want Zuko weighed down by his position in the world and the responsibility that came with, and always encouraged him relax and take advantage of the moment.

Unlike Ozai, Iroh would always be there to support Zuko in his victories and his failures. Iroh shows him the right path but does not force him down it.

And even after Zuko betrayed and abandoned him.

Iroh was never angry with him, and embraced him upon his return.

He wanted Zuko to grow and be a better man. Even if Zuko wasn’t a prodigy like his sister. 

And that is the answer here. The way to raise a prodigy is the same way anyone should raise any child. Love, Support, a Guiding Hand rather than a Forceful Shove, Recognition of What Makes Them Unique, and Forgiveness When They Falter. The problem comes along when you start treating children differently because you see them as different or special. All children are different, all children are special.

Kids are kids, and they all deserve a proper childhood.  

[sugakuns]

[ʜᴄ] | 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

being childhood friends with kenma, akaashi & iwa + telling each other they’d be married when they were younger

ᴀ/ɴ: gender neautral pronouns

— kozume k.

you’ve known kenma basically since the day you were born

both you and his family lived in the apartment building and you happened to live next door to each other which was both a blessing and a curse

since kenma was quite shy he had never really iniciated any conversation or play with you so you overcame your own shyness to play with him

mostly the two of you would play with dolls or go out in the local park but as soon as kenma got his first gaming device he would never go outside

even when the new kid kuroo came along it took him a while to warm up and try to play with you and kenma

kuroo noticed how throughout primary school you seemed closer to the quiet boy

you’d hang off of his shoulder and call him cute names like “kenma-san” or “kenken”

so one day kuroo gave you the idea to propose to little kenma

yes, at 7 years of age kuroo told you to ask 6 year old kenma to marry you

so you did

with little plastic rings from a magazine your mother had bought you

“kenken, im giving you this ring because it means we’re married, okay?” kenma nods and takes the ring, even going as far as slipping it on his ring finger

“Kenken!” Your voice bellows throughout the gym, hands extending out as you throw yourself into a frankly violent hug. Kenma stumbles a little, hands grasping your waist as he trieds to stablilise himself from the running hug. His hair tousles from the impact, the stray strands brushing along your cheeks as you pull away.

“You’ll never guess what I found!” Your smile is large, beaming under the fluorescent lights belonging to the gym ceiling. Kenma states curiously, his expression close to one of a curious kitten. Practice had just ended and currently Kenma and Kuroo were the only ones there due to waiting on you.

Your fingers swiftly dance along your screen as you locate the picture you had taken of your family’s photo album. There was one particular picture of both you and the now faux blonde, both smiling (albeit kenma’s looked a little forced) and showing off the plastic rings you had won in a vending machine the day prior.

“Remember? I forgot we’re married!” You giggle as Kenma stares at the picture on your phone. He hadn’t forgotten that day - yet he hoped you would - the day his childhood crush told him that they were getting married. He hadn’t put much thought into you remembering what happened on that day but when he thinks about it he feels a warm, blooming senestaion fill his chest.

“You’re married?” Kuroo chuckles as he swings the keys around his index finger in an attempt to look suave. You nod quickly whereas Kenma blinks coyly at the taller male. Kuroo can feel the chuckle bubbling up from his chest into his throat yet he catches it last moment at the sharp state he’s getting from his friend.

“Yeah..We’ll get really rings later” Kenma muses, a lazily sweet smile resting on his lips.

— iwaizumi h.

so you actually knew oikawa before iwa,, so he was the sole reason you even met hajime

iwa was actually a little jealous of oikawa since the two of you were closer and he developed a puppy crush on you 🥺

the two of you were around 8 and iwa still held the crush he had since he was 5 - yes he didn’t give it away surprisingly (since he was a child)

so one day, when the both of you were playing and oikawa had planted a kiss on your head cuz he was feeling all confident iwa got jealous

“me and [y/n] are married stupidkawa!! you can’t do that!”

you just went along with it and told oikawa he had cooties LMAO

“Oh my god, you will not believe what I just remembered” Oikawa exclaims, hands clutching at his alien themed pillow. The three of you usually had sleepovers, even at your older age, and Oikawa usually hosted them since his house was bigger.

The three of you were perched on his bed dressed in your pajamas. You and Iwa were leaning against his beds headboard and Oikawa was laying further down the bed, leaning against the wall beside his bed.

“Your brain works?” You tease, chucking lightly as Oikawa dismissively sticks his tongue out at you. Iwa sniggers at your fast witted comment, even going as far to ruffle your hair.

“Yes.” Oikawa deadpans “But, seriously, remember when we were kids and Iwa-chan got jealous because I-I kissed you and he said- he said you two were married!” Oikawa howls with laughter at his own words, barely able to even spew the sentence before he clutches at his stomach to stabilise himself.

Your eyebrow raises, watching as Oikawa laughs to himself. Iwaizumi states dismissively too, arms crossing along his chest.

“We flamed you after that, Tōru” You state, remembering the relentless teasing that both you and Iwa inflicted on the poor boy.

“Plus, we’re dating..Iwa gave me an actual promise ring” you point at the ring on your finger (which was way too expensive for your liking) which reflects under the dim lighting in Oikawa’s room.

Oikawa pouts, laughter seizing as he sees his plan to fluster the two of you didn’t go through “You’re both boring”

— akaashi k.

akaashi didn’t have a lot of friends when he was younger

so you were really his only proper friend,, so he’s find himself with you most of the time

a lot of the time the two of you would play in the public park or at his house

and you two would usually play volleyball since akaashi liked it and you enjoyed it too

he hadn’t really thought snout his feelings for you since he thought they were normal to have towards a close friend

but one day you got quite jealous of all of the other (mainly girls) people who would flock to akaashi

so you simply told them that you two were married so they couldn’t take him away from you

akaashi, like kenma, just went with it

“Bokuto-san, what are you doing?” You ask as you watch the two-toned ace feverishly flick through your childhood memorabilia. He smiles as he comes across old photos of you and his new ‘bestie’ Akaashi; cooing as he looks at the tiny baby shoes that used to for your small feet.

The two boys had came over to study for a test but along the way Bokuto had become distracted and noticed the shiny box on your bedside table. He was more of a magpie than an owl at the moment, diving towards the shiny items rather than the dull items.

“What’s this?” He holds a poorly written letter between his index finger and thumb, staring at the crooked writing on the lined paper. It’s a little crumbled, plastered with stickers and has a massive love heart on the back. You flush as you realise what letter it is, the letter you gave to akaashi to sign if he wanted to marry you.

Bokuto squeals, jumping up and allowing the box to fall recklessly onto your bed. He practically screams as he swings the old piece of paper around.

“You’re married!” He seems more excited than confused, almost acting as if the two of you were actually married.

“Bokuto” Akaashi starts “If you keep this quiet from the rest of the team I’ll do even more serves for you tomorrow”

Bokuto jumps in excitement, the old piece of paper forgotten as he animatedly thanks his friend in advance. You can’t believe that you had forgot to take the little piece of paper out of the box since you had already thought about Bokuto finding it.

However, you can’t help but smile. That was how Akaashi asked you out in first year, reactating the letter you had made in childhood.

[jadegrey711]

Achey Thighs

Henry Cavill x Fem!Reader

A/N: For some reason i randomly find myself writing about Henry Cavill yet again. This guy really needs to be in more movies specifically romance movies lol. So this little story is based solely on true events, the true events being that i recently tired to workout and fucking killed my legs with lunges lol. Also the source for this gif can be found in the tags

*NOT MY GIF. Source is in the Tags*

Summary: Reader decides to workout with Henry and whilst doing some lunges she overexcerts herself and her muscles ache like crazy the next day. She assures Henry that she’s fine but he sees her limping and tells her the best thing to do is to rub it out.

If you like my stories you can check out my sideblog @jadegreywriting​ to see all of them and my masterlist without filtering through my main blog.

I own all rights to this story and do not give permission for my stories to be published, translated or reposted anywhere else. The only places I have published my stories is here on Tumblr and on my AO3 account (LadyAuthor711) 

This story is for 18+ ONLY. It contains sexual themes that are not suited for younger audiences so if you’re under 18 my blog and this story is not for you. Please make sure to read at your own discretion and remember that you are solely responsible for your content intake. 

It was a new year so that meant it was time for a new you. You had to admit that during quarantine you had gotten extremely lazy; Henry did too for a bit at the very beginning. And you had to admit that having him home all the time to cook for the both of you, along with lying about and messing around anytime you wanted was pure bliss. However, as soon as production was able to ramp up again;  he was right back to his early morning routines. So, you decided that you weren’t going to be a lazy lout anymore and decided to join him in his routine one day. 

You heard the alarm buzz and gasped awake, feeling a hint of drool on the pillow. “I’m awake. I’m awake.” You muttered and twisted in bed to find Henry already sitting up and smiling down at you. 

“Babe. Are you sure you want to do this with me? I mean it’s four in the morning, this is not your usual prowling hours.” he chuckled. 

“No.” you said sitting up in bed. “I said I wanted to do this with you and I meant it.” You stated before, gruffly getting out of bed, hearing Henry’s chuckles behind you. 

“Alright then. I’ll see you downstairs in ten to fifteen minutes yeah? Make sure you bundle up. It's cold out there.”

You let out an involuntary shiver at the thought of going outside this early in the morning. 

*****

Well that wasn’t too bad of a way to spend the morning. 

You knew that Henry purposely went easy on you this morning, knowing full well that his training and morning routines don’t consist of power walking, but it made you smile to think that he did it for you. Plus, even though it was freezing outside the walk itself was wonderful; being able to take in the early morning before the world was awake, with you and Henry chatting as you walked. Towards the end of the walk and as you neared closer back to the house, Henry noticed you were starting to shiver and wrapped a strong arm around you and brought you close to him. 

You immediately let out a low moan of appreciation as you felt his heat radiate into your cold skin. “God, you’re still so warm, even after being out here for an hour!” You smiled, snuggling closer into him. 

He let out a small chuckle, tugging you tighter to him. “Don’t worry this next part won’t be nearly as cold.” he smiled. 

“What are we doing?” You asked tentatively. 

“I thought we could work on some strength training together. I know you said you wanted to get in better shape.” he paused, a smile coming to his lips. “Although I personally think you are perfect as you are.” He smiled again before placing a quick kiss to your lips, causing your cheeks to heat. “However, I thought that strength training would be a good place to start and of course it won’t be something insane.” 

“Okay, that sounds like fun. Then after that are you going to bench me?” You chuckled as he opened the door. 

“Oh hell yes. That’s the only reason for me to stay in shape. So I can pick you up and throw you over my shoulders any time I please.” He said before his hands shot out to your hips and you let out a squeal of delight; as he stole you away into the house to begin your first day of strength training.

*******

“Fuck.” You groaned as you slowly got up from the couch, trying not to wince too loud as you made your way upstairs for another ibuprofen. You knew those lunges were a bad idea, you’d never been able to do them right and in consequence you’d always gotten hurt. 

However, this time you didn’t think you’d actually hurt yourself you were just this out of shape.

As you grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen, you heard Henry coming up the stairs. 

“Babe? Are you still sore?” 

“Yeah!” You shouted back from the bathroom, and a moment later Henry was standing there leaning on the bathroom door frame. 

“How bad does it hurt?” He asked, concern etching his face. He came up behind you and began rubbing your shoulders. 

You smiled. “My thighs don’t necessarily hurt, their just sore like fucking crazy.” 

Henry nodded and thought for a moment. “You’re not used to this kind of training but I’ll get you there.” He smiled. “But, I have an idea that I’m sure will help you out. Go lay down baby and I’ll be there in a second.” He said kissing your head. 

“Okay.” you nodded and tried so hard not to limp away but it was useless. You let out a loud groan as you sat on the bed, your legs outstretched in front of you as you waited for Henry to come out of the bathroom.

When he came out of the bathroom and into the bedroom he had your bottle of Aveeno lotion. You cocked an eyebrow at him. 

“What do you think you’re going to be doing with that?” 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” He smirked. “I know you’re sore, and it doesn’t matter how much ibuprofen you take right now the only way to really help with that soreness is to rub it out.” 

“Alright.” You said, and bit your bottom lip. “I’m liking this much better already. So you’re going to massage me? And it’s not even our anniversary!” You giggled and Henry let out a loud laugh. 

“Are you going to let me help you or are you gonna give me shit the entire time?” 

“Giving you shit is my born prerogative.” You chuckled, then got up onto your knees and reached out for him and pulled him into your embrace so you could kiss him. 

Henry slowly pulled away. “Alright, you’ve had your fun, now lay down and take off your pants.” He smirked.

“Oh! Now we’re cooking with fire!” you giggled.  

“Y/N.” He said, his face showing that he means business now. 

“Alright!” You giggled and started to take off your leggings, until you were laying on the bed in only Henry’s oversized shirt. 

“Good. Now tell me where is it sore the most? On the back of your thighs? The front? Does your calves hurt at all?” he asked his face filled with seriousness. 

“It’s the front of my thighs that hurt the most.” You said as you positioned yourself so you were laying completely flat on the bed the only thing that was elevated was your head. 

“Alright. Henry said simply, and then proceeded to climb on the bed and position himself so he was between your legs. He guided your legs so they were wrapped behind his back, and you laid open to him. 

“Henry. What are you doing?” You asked confused but intrigued just the same.

He lightly shushed you and grabbed the lotion bottle and rubbed some into his hands before he brought those strong hands down on your aching thighs.

You let out a soft hiss. But his hands didn’t waver as they continued to softly rub your thighs. He started out by using the tips of his fingers, so his touch was soft at first. Then as he continued working on your sore muscles he started using the palm of his hands. So he could work the deeper knots in the muscle. 

You let out a small sigh, as you felt your aching muscles ease under his touch, but you also felt something else as his strong hands worked you. You felt your arousal growing, watching him there between your thighs, his hands alleviating your pain but also bringing you pleasure as you watch them glide up and down your skin. His face a mask of shere concentration as he massaged you, only to look up at your face every now and again and each time he did, you could see his own arousal growing in his eyes. 

His hands moved a bit lower than they needed to, grinding them into your hips before coming back up your thighs and stopping at your knees; repeating the same motions. 

“How does this feel?” He asked, and it came out breathy. This had to be affecting him as much as it was affecting you. 

“It feels really good baby.” You purred, knowing now that you were a puddle in his hands now. 

“How good?” He licked his lips, then you felt his hands trace the inside of your thighs and before he could touch you where you needed him to, his hands went back up again. 

“Henry.” You gasped, feeling just how drenched you were for him and those hands of his right now. 

“Tell me how good it feels, Y/N.” He said, his voice holding a tone of command. His hands went back down to where they almost brushed your mound. 

“It feels so good, baby.” You purred and arched your hips up to him, letting him know exactly what you want. 

“Oh yeah?” he teased. 

“Yes.” You hissed. “Henry please, touch me.” You pleaded and to your sweet relief felt his fingers brush your pussy lips, separating them as he traced down your folds. 

“You’re so wet for me Y/N.”

You couldn’t think coherently with Henry’s fingers tracing your folds with him in between your thighs so you just nodded, feeling like you were going to explode if he didn’t properly touch you soon. 

“Such a good girl.” He purred as he put down your legs so he could lean over you and kiss you deeply. You let out a low moan as you finally got what you wanted and you felt Henry’s finger slide into, and started crooking it in a come hither motion. Adding gas to the already roaring fire inside you. 

“You know how much I love you Y/N.” he said against your neck, sucking your skin knowing that it’ll leave a mark there. 

You moaned and grabbed onto his curly locks as he pushed another finger inside of you, and you could feel that familiar climb in your lower belly as you knew you were about to reach your climax. 

“So good.” he purred in your ear and you felt yourself go over the edge and grip tightly onto his fingers as your climax raked over you. 

“God, I love you so much Henry.” You moaned somewhat unintelligently. Henry didn’t seem to mind at all as he slipped his fingers out of you and fell to the bed next to you. 

“Well that’s not at all where i intended that to go.” He laughed and you laughed with him. 

“You started it! Telling me to take off my pants then putting yourself between my legs!” you laughed. 

“Okay, maybe I did mean for it to go there.” he laughed. “So, does this mean that we’re doing this every time we work out?

[with-love-from-hell]

Family Line

Fandom: Obey Me!

Characters Featured: Lucifer

Written for my Mc, Storm (she/her pronouns used)

Genre: Hurt*/Comfort

Wc: ~1.2k

Cw: abusive parent (father), mentions of emotional and physical abuse, resentment and relationship grief, *leaning WAY into the hurt on this one.

(Here is a version with a GN!Mc)

》A/N: this has been on my mind a lot lately and I have been in need of some comfort for my own mourning of the type of relationship ill never have with my own father. I really feel like id have a kinship with all of the brothers about my issues with my dad, but even more so with Lucifer. Also, I wrote this fic with the song Family Line by Conan Gray playing.

Lucifer paced slowly down the hallway of the second floor of the House of Lamentation. The nightly routine to ensure all his brothers were still accounted for in the wee hours of the morning was tiring, but it was the last task he needed to complete before turning in himself for the night. As per usual, Asmo had just entered his room after spending a late night at the fall, and the sound of Levi cursing at one of his video games was occasionally heard in the distance.

The last room to check across the hall from his own was Storms. Usually, she slept rather well, going to bed earliest out of everyone in the house. Tonight though, something was off. Lucifer raised a brow as he approached the room, uncertain if he was actually seeing light shining from the underside of the door. As if sooner believing he would be going crazy, he checked his watch- seeing the clock showing 1:45am back at him. 

Maybe she fell asleep doing homework, he posited, approaching her door curiously. He paused before knocking, trying to listen closely to the music playing from behind the thick wooden door.

“...I can’t forget, I can’t forgive you ‘cause now I’m scared that everyone I love will leave me...”

Lucifer frowned. The somber melody continued, telling a story of pain and suffering caused by the individuals a child is supposed to trust and feel loved by. After listening to a few more bars, he knocked on the door- hearing the music decrease in volume slightly. There was a short pause, and then the door slowly unlocked and opened. 

Lucifer sucked in a terse breath, seeing the clear evidence of Storm’s woe worn plainly on her face. She refused to make eye contact with him, instead staring at the ground. “S-sorry, Lucifer. I’ll turn it down, I didn’t mean to keep you awake.” 

Lucifer felt his heart squeeze in his chest. “Storm, is everything alright?” 

She glanced up at him briefly before looking down again, her bottom lip trembling slightly as she desperately tried to hold back tears. After realizing there was no use being dishonest with the first borne, she shook her head. 

Lucifer nodded, gesturing into her room. She stepped aside, wiping her eyes as he entered. She shut the door quietly behind him, pausing as he picked up her phone to look at the song she had been listening to. He scrolled down to the lyrics, reading them over carefully. With each line, his heart ached more and more- not only for her, but for himself. 

“Why are you listening to this song?” Lucifer pondered aloud, turning to face her. “And why so late tonight?” 

Storm sighed as she approached her bed, sinking down onto the push mattress. Lucifer quickly joined her, watching her expressions carefully. 

“I talked to him earlier tonight.” Storm stated flatly, trying to stop the shaking in her voice.

Lucifer raised a brow. “Your father?” 

Storm nodded, rubbing her forearm. “Yeah...”

“Ah- I’m assuming he gave you the usual- lectures, degradation, and insults?” 

Storm scoffed. “Pretty much, yeah. But...” She paused, turning her head away from him. 

Lucifer grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently. “But?”

Storm took a deep breath. “It felt different today, I guess. Like, after seeing all of the texts in our group chat between him and my siblings happily sharing childhood pictures. Every single one of them, they were smiling and having fun.” 

Lucifer nodded, squeezing her hand once more to reassure her that he was here. 

“I...” she bit her lip, “...I couldn’t find a single one that brought back good memories. I look miserable in all of them- even the ones where I am smiling. It just makes me think...like...Is there something wrong with me..? Why does he treat me so terribly? What did I do to deserve..?” 

Storm burst into tears, snatching her hand away from lucifer and covering her eyes to try to hide how shameful she felt for acting such a way in front of the Avatar of Pride. The pain she felt ran deep, the mixture of resentment, grief, hurt, insecurity, self-blame, and anger all overflowing out of her like a waterfall. 

Lucifer felt his heart splinter as she sobbed, feeling the emotion flooding her aura with each shuddered breath and wail in agony. He inched closer, pulling her into a tight embrace. He rubbed her back as she cried into his chest, gripping the lapel of his vest tightly to ground herself. 

As she cried, his mind wandered back to the song lyrics, reflecting on his own experience with his father. It was different than Storm’s experience, sure- but it’s not like Lucifer forgot the numerous lies he was told for the sake of manipulation, the way his own father would shame him or degrade him for anything he did that didn’t fit his “grand plan,” the over-the-top expectations that Lucifer tried to meet, but was never able to, the emotional distance...and he remembered the punishments far too vividly. Not only for him, but for his brothers as well. 

Lucifer gripped Storm’s back, feeling tears threaten to spill from his own eyes as memories of the toxicity within his own family lineage. He closed his eyes, trying to regulate his breath as he rested his chin atop Storm’s trembling head. 

They sat together like this for quite some time- not that either of them was really keeping track. When Storm had expelled all the tears her body could release, Lucifer finally said his piece. 

“Storm, you did nothing to deserve such terrible treatment. A parent is supposed to love their children unconditionally, and your Father clearly failed in that moral duty.” Lucifer paused, taking a deep breath. “Nothing will change what has happened to you, or the fact that he still treats you this way, but I can assure you that you don’t deserve it- not one bit.” 

Storm nodded somberly, though seemingly remained unconvinced. Lucifer rubbed his thumb across her shoulder as her waited for her to find the words to speak, allowing her to take as much time as she needed. 

“I just...” Storm hiccupped, her breaths still slightly uneven. “I...I never got to have a dad- not like my siblings did. And I...I just wish I could have that. I want it so bad it h-hurts.” 

Lucifer closed his eyes, taking another deep breath, though this time it was his turn to shed tears. Storm snapped her attention to him and pressed a hand to Lucifer’s thigh, concerned over what she had said to produce such a reaction. 

“I understand that feeling, Storm.” He murmured quietly, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “And it’s something I don’t think I myself have properly addressed. Perhaps, while we should grieve the loss of a relationship that will never be, we should also keep close the individuals who cherish us for who we are- warts and all.” 

Storm nodded, chewing on his words. inching closer, she rested her head against his chest, finding comfort in the sound of his heartbeat. “Then...could you stay with me a little longer tonight, Luci? I don’t...I don’t think I want to be alone right now.” 

Lucifer pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, clutching her tighter to his chest. “Of course, my love. I’m not going anywhere.” 

[mrsbrekkers]

How bout a kaz brekker x blind!reader? 💓

okay so i have never written blind!reader before but but but BUTTT a good idea came to me involving reader being a grisha ( healer ) who had the gift to see someone and what they truly look like if they are physically allowed to be let in? it’s hard to explain, but y a

in this, reader and kaz have known one another for a good three in a half years, they work on heists together, and reader is usually partnered with kaz, as he wants to keep her safe. i S U C K at summaries. also, i was hella distracted while writing this, but it came out somewhat okay? f u c k.

pairings! kax x blind!reader

reader in this is female, but i will adjust accordingly if you’d like me too! just let me know! :)

warnings! really distracted writing, jordie, ptsd, blood, the typical soc stuff, kaz almost having a panic attack, but also him realizing he’s safe there with reader ye. 

i could so make this a series? like going through all the times blind!reader has made kaz come to trust her more and more. haha ha unless...

word count! 2847

ONE SHOT UNDER CUT

GLOVED INTERACTIONS

There were many descriptions given to Y/N about what Kaz Brekker looked like. What color his eyes were. What color his hair was. What his build was like. She could give you an accurate description of Jesper, Inej, Nina, Matthias, even Wylan was easy. But when it came to someone she couldn’t physically map out? She became a bit lost.

Being born without her sight, Y/N had to learn other ways to understand the world. Especially in a place like Ketterdam. Maybe that was why Kaz was quick to take Y/N under his wing. To keep her safe, just as he had with Wylan. But, Y/N wasn’t useless. Being a Healer, she was valuable to the Dregs. Nina was a powerful heartrender, but could only do so much when someone was inevitably hurt during jobs. That’s where Y/N was useful.

In a sense she had her sight, but it relied on physically being able to touch someone. A side-effect of being a Grisha, with abilities that no one has seen before. Her sight may have been gone, but being able to see one in her mind, whether it be blurry or clear, gave her an idea on what one looked like.

That meant Kaz was the most mysterious person to Y/N.

Y/N could describe most of the crows relatively well. Jesper had been the first to let Y/N use her ‘gift’ as Nina called it, with him. Her hands rested on his arms, slowly moving up to his shoulders, the other crows sitting around them to watch.

“You’re Zemeni, but I knew that already. Inej described you as long limbed, she wasn’t wrong.” Inej laughed a bit, shaking her head. “Lean, no surprise, I could make that out. Your eyes are a dark grey, but beautiful. I must say Jesper, you’re rather handsome. Being a handsome decoy seems like it should be a Jesper talent.”

Jesper smiled, looking down at Y/N. “Right on, almost to the dot,” he said, giving his best friend a chuckle.

“Your smile lights up a room. But I also knew that already,” Y/N added, tilting her head as she let her hands drop from Jesper’s shoulders. The crows around them were in awe, and then Nina was moving Jesper out of the way.

“Move handsome decoy, my turn,” She said, humming a bit as she sat in front of Y/N, making the Healer laugh. As she had with Jesper, Y/N ran her hands up Nina’s arms, stopping at her shoulders.

“Hmm, long curly brown hair, your heart beats a bit differently than the rest of our friends. Courtesy of being Grisha, and a Heartrender. You’re also a bit curvier than our friends, but as am I.” Nina smiled, glancing at their friends, who all seemed confused on how Y/N managed to do this.

“Green eyes, piercing almost. As always, like the rest of our friends, your smile lights up the room. But instead of Jesper’s toothy smile, you’re a closed mouth smiler, unless talking to Matthias of course,” Y/N smirked a bit, feeling Nina’s body heat up told her that the Heartrender was indeed, blushing.

Then slowly, all of the crows sat in front of Y/N. Except for Kaz, which Y/N understood. She didn’t pry, but she did begin to wonder what he truly looked like. There were so many conflicting descriptions. Obviously the ones given from people who didn’t like him weren’t taken into account, because most of them consisted of calling Kaz ‘The Grinch’. And while this was probably a good term for his lovely personality, it didn’t seem like it’d match his looks. Kaz wasn’t green after all.

But after a particularly rough job, one that ended with almost everyone scuffed up in some way, shape, or form, Y/N was working herself to the bone. Inej had the worst of it, so Y/N worked on her first at the Slat, and upon finishing, she had Nina sit next to the sleeping Wraith. She stood, huffing as she climbed the stairs to Kaz’s room. He was always the least willing to be healed. He always claimed he was the least beat up, or he could handle it himself.

This time, Y/N knew he wasn’t the least beat up. She’d heard about the gash running up his arm, and the scratches lining his face, which were less than pretty. Entering the room, she crossed her arms.

“I’m fine,” Kaz spoke first, earning a scoff from Y/N.

“I’ve heard plenty from Jesper about how nasty the gash on your arm is, and how your leg has been worse than usual. I can’t heal a bone that’s healed incorrectly, but I can ease the pain,” Y/N stated, moving to stand in front of the desk. Why was Kaz so damned stubborn about things like this? It concerned the Healer. Did he find himself so unlovable that he believed he deserved the pain when he was hurt?

“How are you going to count your Kruge if your arm is cut wide open?” Y/N asked, tilting her head. That made Kaz sigh. She wasn’t wrong about that. It also meant problems during other aspects of his job.

“Fine,” Kaz said reluctantly. He watched Y/N round the table, his eyes mainly on her fingers that softly glided the desk, letting her know when to turn. He’d always found it fascinating how she managed so much without her sight. Mainly how she found her ways around. The way her fingers would move so smoothly across surfaces. Or how graceful she seemed. It was hard to fascinate Kaz Brekker, but she did it effortlessly.

“I won’t touch you, but I’m going to need to be guided to where the gash is,” Y/N spoke, now standing in front of Kaz, who gulped with a shaky nod. He trusted her. He trusted all of his Crows, but her the most. She’d been there when the Crows were down bad. She brought smiles to the team without fail. Kaz could remember the first time they’d met, when his fascianation had started.

The night had been cold, dark. As Ketterdam usually was. After a few months of Kaz having Inej watch over the Healer that lived near the university district, Inej had come to Kaz with news that the Healer, Y/N, had noticed her. It had rendered the Bastard of the Barrel speechless. Someone had noticed Inej Ghafa?

“How did she notice you? Nobody notices you. Even I didn't for the first time, and I notice everyone,” Kaz stated, his tone confused.

“I believe our Healer is blind. It would make sense then, all of her other senses would be on high alert, especially her hearing. Even the most silent aren’t silent to the blind. They notice everything, Kaz. I’m surprised she didn’t notice me earlier,” Inej said, her arms crossed as she leaned in the doorway between the bedroom and the small office.

Kaz stalled for a moment, humming in consideration. It would explain how Inej had been found out. What that didn’t answer was whether Y/N knew who they were. He doubted it, but you could never be sure in Ketterdam.

“Did she know who you were?”

“I’m not sure, I left before things escalated. She said she knew I was there and to reveal who I was and who I worked for. So she knows I’m not some random in Ketterdam. I’m sure she could figure out enough if I’d appeared before her,” Inej said before looking back at the window. She knew she wasn’t followed, she always checked for such. But with the revelation that someone, for once, had noticed her, it wasn’t unlikely that maybe she’d been followed.

Kaz huffed, realizing he’d have to now go and explain to this Healer about how he’d been watching over her for the past few months. He wasn’t even sure why he’d been doing so. Well, he did, she’d be a good asset to have later if he ever decided to actually let it be known that he’d been keeping her safe. It was time that’d present a new reason.

Arriving at the small apartment that the Healer lived in, Kaz knocked Inej behind him, and when the door opened, his dark eyes landed on Y/N.

“I was waiting for you guys to show up,” Y/N said, turning and allowing the two inside.

“You knew we’d come?” Inej asked, entering the small apartment and sitting where Y/N offered, taking the small cup of tea she was handed. For being stalked for the past few months, the Healer was being rather kind.

“I suspected it was The Wraith watching over me for some time. I have learned to feel different presence’ around me. Yours, while I didn’t notice it at first, I began to when one of my papers went missing and was replaced with a forged one,” Y/N said, sitting next to Inej.

“How did you know it was forged?” Kaz asked, raising an eyebrow. Not that Y/N could see that, but his tone, his voice did the accenting for him.

“Kaz Brekker I presume. The handwriting wasn’t my own. I don’t have terrible handwriting, I’ve practiced for years after all, but my handwriting is not that nice. And the paper wasn’t the kind of paper I used. It was a close second, yes, but the letters weren’t able to be felt. That’s when I realized it was forged. It was a good forgery, but I’ve lived in Ketterdam long enough.” That’s when Kaz’s fascination started.

Or maybe it was when Inej had announced someone had noticed her. Nonetheless, that was the day he decided to recruit Y/N officially. It wasn’t hard either, considering she was rather willing too as long as she wasn’t indentured to the Dregs.

“I won’t go with if I’m going to be paying you back for the rest of my life,” Y/N stated, sipping her tea. Oh, and she had to bring her cat. Jesper now called the cat the Crows mascot. Which, the other’s had found weird. It was a cat, not a Crow, but they had changed the name of the cat to Crow. Which made the rest of the gang agree on it. Even Kaz found the cat enjoyable.

That was three years ago.

Since then, Y/N hadn’t let Kaz down once. He’d grown to trust her as he did Inej, even more so as she became his shadow. The person in his corner, his partner. He trusted his shadow.

Sighing, Kaz shook his head, looking over at Y/N and glancing down to her hands. “Left arm, right above my elbow,” he said, watching her fingers flex before moving to hover over the gash that covered a good part of Kaz’s upper arm.

“You know, I still don’t know what you look like,” Y/N said as she healed to gash slowly, making sure the work was intricate and done correctly.

“Brooding, dark, nothing else really to me,” Kaz said, but Y/N shook her head, finishing the gash and humming a bit. She moved her hand slowly up to Kaz’s face, doing a quick brush over to heal the small gashes there. Kaz felt them heal, his labored breath steadying as she moved her hand away from his face.

“I don’t believe that. If there was nothing more to you, I wouldn’t be staying around, Kaz,” Y/N said, bending down, but she felt a gloved hand grip her wrist, surprising her and causing her to jump a bit.

“I can handle that pain, I have for years,” Kaz stated, watching Y/N nod, and while she couldn’t see his hand, her eyes were still on the wrist that was enclosed by Kaz’s gloved hand.

“I may have an idea. A way for me to know what you truly look like,” Y/N said, a smile rising to her lips.

Kaz was almost frightened to ask. No, he was frightened. He knew what that would entail. But he knew what she looked like and she had so many conflicting ideas about what he looked like. He also knew that Y/N wouldn’t cross his boundaries unless he gave explicit permission. He could say no to this and she’d agree and leave with a smile, some words of encouragement to sleep and rest, and later have Inej or Jesper bring up food for him. But sucking in a deep breath, he looked up at Y/N, determining that he trusted her enough for this. She’d never hurt you. 

“Okay, tell me the idea,” Kaz said slowly, his words wavering.

“You can back out at any time, Kaz. If you don’t want to do this, you let me know immediately,” Y/N stated, and Kaz let out a small cough. 

He closed his eyes, nodding to himself before giving an audible, “I know.”

“Your gloves, their the barrier that helps ensure you don’t come into contact with skin. What if I wear a pair, they don’t have to be yours, but a pair of gloves and use them to learn what you look like?”

Kaz tilted his head. It wasn’t a terrible idea. It actually made a lot of sense. He used the gloves as a barrier, as Y/N had said. If she did the same, it would be the same as he had just done with her wrist. He wouldn’t feel Jordie. He wouldn’t feel Reaper’s Barge. At least, that’s what he hoped for. But he’d be willing to try for Y/N. He’d try for her.

“We . . . can try that, but use my gloves. I’m used to the feeling of them. I have another pair in the nightstand by my bed,” Kaz said, watching Y/N smile a bit before moving to grab the gloves in the nightstand. He watched her slide them onto her fingers, seeing they were just a bit big on her, he chuckled quietly.

Y/N let her fingers glide against the desk once more, pulling the chair from the other side of the desk right in front of Kaz. She could hear his uneven breathing as she sat too. “You guide me, just like before,” Y/N said, letting Kaz have control of the situation. 

Slowly, Kaz lifted his hand, taking Y/N’s gloved one into his own. Stalling for a moment he shut his eyes tightly, and for a moment the flashes came to him, but he sucked in a deep breath, opening his eyes and seeing Y/N in front of him, alive, breathing.

He lifted her hands to rest on his shoulders, watching her hum as the vision of him began to form within her mind. He watched a smile come to her lips. She would never know how beautiful that smile was. How beautiful it was to him. How he hoped it wasn’t washed away like his was because of the Barrel.

“Hmm, Dark hair, trimmed at the edges. Inej teased you for it one day, I remember that. You have a sharper face than most of our friends, and a lean build, but more muscular than Jesper is.” Y/N tilted her head, the image in her head finally fully forming.

“Dark eyes, like bitter coffee. Two tattoos. I didn’t know that. I must say, but don’t Jesper this, you’re far more handsome than he is. Maybe you should start being the handsome decoy.” Kaz chuckled at that, and for a few moments he wasn’t shaking. He wasn’t fearful. He wasn’t breathing heavily. He was happy, even if just for those few moments. Happy because of her.

Y/N dropped her hands, pulling off the leather gloves and placing them on the desk. “Certainly not the grinch as some put it,” she added, standing.

“Pretty close to that,” Kaz said, watching her stand.

“Maybe personality wise, but certainly not look wise.”

“Who calls me the Grinch?” 

“Jesper,” Y/N laughed. She remembered hearing Jesper reference Kaz as the grinch at one point. It was where the nickname had probably originated from for others to call the Bastard of the Barrel, and slowly it became known. The room became quiet for some time, and Y/N was the first to break it.

“Thank you . . . for letting me do that, I know it wasn’t easy. The tattoos, what are they of?” Y/N asked then, tilting her head. Kaz took a deep breath in, looking over at the window across by his bed. The one he rarely ever used.

“The Dregs Crow, and an R,” he didn’t elaborate, leaving Y/N to know that was as much as he’d say. She knew what the Crow was for, but she had a feeling she shouldn’t ask much more than that.

“Well, do get some rest. I can’t heal sleep exhaustion, sadly,” Y/N said, laughing a bit. She didn’t see it, but a smile spread on Kaz’s lips.