#To make others feel seen and heard and to inform them of the possible paths and outcomes

[tamorii]

Last year I documented a month of my life as I set my first steps towards getting an autism diagnosis at the age of 28. I drew one page every day for 30 days and turned it into a comic style zine! Since life is unpredictable, this zine is a rollercoaster from start to finish... but it was also very, very therapeutic and in a sense even healing for me to draw :')

"Inside the mind of an undiagnosed-but-pretty-sure adult" is currently available as a physical zine or digital download in my Shopify store! You can check it out here if you're interested :)

[utterlyazriel]

the green emotion

someone requested jealous!azriel and i... made up a whole plot. i hope it's decent and fulfills the craving ! i'm a firm believer than he's so silly when he gets jealous <3 friends to lovers, about 4k

Azriel was not a jealous Male.

That was what he told himself. Jealousy was something that possessed the likes of Cassian or Rhys, driven to territorial acts that likened them to wild beasts. Fueled by their protectiveness, their senses dulled beyond reason.

Jealousy was a sharp whip with a taunting bite and Azriel was one of few who did not bend beneath it.

He had adopted a strength over millennia, an iron will, that prevented him from harboring such unsavory feelings. He was a stronger male than that, not so easily willed by strong ugly emotions such as jealousy.

That was what he told himself — as he tailed behind you, hanging back far enough you could not detect his presence, his shadows shrouding him.

It was reaching evening in Velaris, the last remnants of the sun's dappled light scattered across the cobblestones. You were clothed in a velvet cloak that reached down to your ankles. Its hood was drawn up, to cover your face.

If Azriel didn’t know you so well, not the weight of your steps and the lithe you carried yourself with, you may have slipped by unnoticed.

But Azriel was the Spymaster for a reason — and you were keeping secrets.

Truly, it itched and picked at him as he turned reason over and over again in his mind as he followed you. What possible reason could you have for skirting around in the dark? To slip from your friends and cloak yourself, wishing to remain unseen on the streets of your home?

It didn’t make sense to him. No thoughts of treason ever breached his mind. You wouldn’t dare, he knew that. You treasured your family as deeply as Azriel did himself, having bled and fought for your space beside them many years ago.

But as Azriel traced the path you walked, knowing you were fully in your right to go about your business however you pleased, it couldn’t be ignored. Logic kept pointing fingers in the same direction.

If he did not suspect you of withholding vital information from your court, then his quiet tailing must be fueled by something else. Something as trivial as an emotion such as…. jealousy.

Azriel bristled at the thought and his wings shook silently behind him, as if shaking off some imaginary snow.

He did not get jealous.

He was simply… ensuring the safety of his court. Which included your own safety. Even the thought made him grimace in the shadows, knowing the smack he would receive from Cassian if his brother ever heard the implication you couldn’t fend for yourself.

You most certainly could. Azriel and Cassian had both spent their fair share of hours battling against you in the fighting ring, training you up.

And it’s hardly likely that the image of you — donned in your fighting leathers, forehead beaded with sweat, chest heaving as you gripped your sword tight and grinned across the ring — was something Azriel would forget anytime soon.

Cauldron boil him if he ever had to admit aloud just how often he thought of that image.

Still, something within him kept his feet moving, footsteps as quiet as the night.

Faelight illuminated across the cobbles, the light of the rising moon, brighter in this court than any other, cast across the doorsteps of the townhouses. You had wound through the streets and ended up two streets stray from the Palace of Threads and Jewels. On a doorstep that Azriel had never seen before.

Your hood fell to your shoulders as you pushed it back gently, revealing the column of your throat and the curve of your shoulders. The faint moonlight glided across your skin, a luminous glow curling up against your collarbones. Azriel swallowed from his place in the shadows.

It was never a surprise to find you beautiful. To revere your enchanting otherworldly beauty — that Azriel was used to. And yet still, even after all these years, he had not managed to master the way it stole the breath from his lungs every time.

A familiar hunger yawned within him. He averted his eyes from you to the door.

He forced himself to take in the details, listening as his shadows whispered things his eyes could not attest. An artist's home. Damaged and rebuilt in the last battle of Velaris. The inhabitant was a Male, living alone.

Something blistered awfully inside Azriel.

Why would you visit a home such as this? Azriel could think of a few reasons that could warrant a visit so late in the evening, with your face concealed and your footsteps light. He felt his stomach turn over. Something foul burned in his gut.

The door before you opened and Azriel turned his face fast, slicing his gaze to the ground before he could see the Fae who greeted you.

Suddenly, this felt too close to an invasion of privacy. If you wished to keep your lovers a secret, as he himself did, this was a direct violation of your wishes.

That was... if this man was, indeed, your lover.

Something vulgar, something ugly reared up in his veins. Azriel clenched his fists at his sides, siphons gleaming, and willed it down.

Jealousy would not become him. Jealousy was not— did not control him.

And yet he could feel it, coursing through his blood, choking up his throat. Azriel tried to push it down, to fight against it with reason, with logic. You were promised to no Male, least of all to him. But...

But he could've sworn.

As quickly as the words appeared in his mind, Azriel stamped them down with an icy fury.

A silent curse followed them, directed at himself for his own foolishness. How many times would he walk this road before he eventually learned?

There had been no heated moments between you, no wandering eyes, no lingering hands; none that he had not imagined. None that his mind had no conjured up in its own twisted hope.

When you sought him out in the night, tormented by your own mind and how it kept you from sleep, you were seeking... a friend, Azriel realised bitterly.

There was nothing deeper to your decision to show up at his door but no one else's. Nothing was hidden in the way you chose a seat next to him at every dinner, nor the way you found a way to be beside him at the tables at Rita's.

Sitting close enough so that he could smell the alluring scent of your perfume. Could see the gleam of your bright eyes as you glanced at him after every joke, almost as if to see what might make him smile.

No. He steeled himself, shutting down every sweet moment of you he had been subconsciously collecting, holding to a greater magnitude than you clearly did.

You were not like Mor or Cassian. You did not warm the sheets of many Fae beds, slipping in and out of them without a care.

You were... alike to himself, Azriel had thought. Dedicated yourself to one.

He scowled at himself in the dark. This— this rendezvous in the dark did not dispel what he knew about you. It did not make it untrue.

It simply meant his feeble hope, that the one, the Fae you might dedicate yourself entirely was him... was just that—a hope.

It did not sway the reality of the world, the matter of truth that you crept out in the night to meet on shadowed doorsteps. Azriel felt his shadows smoking around him, spun into a frenzy at his unwelcome revelation. He snapped in his wings a little tighter.

Coming here tonight, following you, had been a mistake.

—

It seemed perfectly logical after that night for Azriel to take a step back, to rein himself in.

Not that there was not much to rein back — but the small actions reserved just for you, the unrestrained smiles, the inside jokes ribbed back at one another.

The things he had perceived as meaning more. He knew, that if he wanted to protect his heart from further ache, he should stop doing them.

But... maybe the only thing he did better than fighting, he thought grievously, was being utterly lovesick for someone who would never feel the same.

At the very least, he would hold his feelings to secrecy. It began with the smallest retractions, like weaning an addict off their favourite drug.

Azriel knew if he pulled away too quick, it would send him into a sort of withdrawal — and after all these years spent together, he wasn't sure he knew how to live with a deficit of you. Of your brazen smile and sparkling eyes.

Slow and sure. Over the next week, he willed himself to quit bothering you, to empty a space in your life so you could invite in others, those that meant more to you. So, there could be space for your new... lover.

Even the word sounded bitter in his mind.

Azriel opted for longer training in the morning. Let his sparring sessions with Cassian bleed longer and longer, not leaving the blazing hot rooftop even when Cass winds up limping inside.

He had received a halfhearted scowl from the warrior, undoubtedly for how unrelenting he had been in his fighting this week.

The time he usually sets aside for you, to read side by side in the library, to bake, to enjoy each other's company — Azriel swept it aside for you, to free up your schedule.

Noticed how you spend your free time down in Velaris. He doesn't dare tail you again.

The week crawls by slowly, stretching out thick, black tar.

Come Sunday, a day you normally reserved for spending with him, Azriel knows his extra insistence on training isn't enough of an excuse to keep you away. He trains late anyway.

True to his suspicions, it takes less than an hour for you to appear— having come to find him.

Azriel can sense you, even before his shadows murmur sweet things in his ears about the most beautiful Fae watching him through the window.

You're lingering at the door, unusually reserved. He can feel your hesitancy, even as he works his aching muscles through yet another set of exercises. His shadows stay in close, the edge of his body whispering in and out of darkness, his siphons gleaming.

You wait, watching quietly, until the sword he's wielding, a strong, broad Illyrian blade, is placed down to rest. Then, there's the soft pad of your feet as you step out into the training area. He hears you coming but he does not turn to face you.

“I've missed you this week.”

Even with his back turned, Azriel fights to keep his expression neutral, even as his eyes flutter at your admission. There's a tug on his shadows, their desire to wisp across to you proving a challenge to resist. He holds himself still, stern, and doesn't even a ruffle of his wings to indicate he's heard you.

"I—" Azriel begins. He still can't bear to turn to face you. "I'm sorry to hear that."

He can hear the noise of confusion that slips from your throat — evidently, it isn't the response you're expecting.

Azriel focuses on the sword before him, his bicep bulging as he lifts its weight and wanders to the stand of weapons. He pretends to be immersed in the decision of which to train with next, even though he's been out here for hours.

Even with his silent cold shoulder, he can still hear you behind him, your feet dragging softly across the ground in what is surely a hesitant nervous action. But still, you haven't left.

"Well, maybeee…" You continue on, voice still aiming for light and breezy, as if he hasn't been avoiding you. You're still trying.

Azriel's chest tightens up with a familiar ache, one that always lingers around you. Since seeing you that night, on another Male's doorstep, its sting has become particularly cruel. Jealousy has a cold bite.

"If you’re nearly done... I mean, if your somewhat obsessive workout regime is finally complete..."

You're winding on, taking jabs that would normally make him smile. You'd take a gentle rolling of his eyes at this point. Azriel turns to you, his face remaining passive.

"I was wondering if you wanted to come sit with me in the library," You say, voice suddenly softer now that he's facing you. "If you’re not too busy, that is.”

Azriel steels himself, eyes cutting to the ground as he forces himself to not wilt beneath your hopeful gaze. He knew it would be hard to pull himself away from you but this? This is nearing torture.

He clears his throat. “I am.”

He turns and begins to peel off the layers of Illyrian leathers from his torso, remaining diligent at keeping himself from caving to you. He can feel the ugly emotion rolling just beneath the surface, a gruesome green monster that threatens his usual composure.

Behind him, he hears your soft, saddened oh. His wings give a tiny shiver at it, even as he continues the methodical process of unwinding after training.

Piece by piece, his armor comes off, until even his shirt has been shed. His skin glistens under the shine of the afternoon sun, the muscles beneath rippling and sore from exertion.

There's a moment of silence and Azriel keeps his head bowed as he gathers himself, prepared to bathe the sweat and grime off himself. It wasn't a complete lie he had told.

Perhaps, he thinks wistfully, he could wash some of his unjust jealousy away with it. Being so unwound by his feelings is taking its toll on him, considering how unused to it he is. He waits, ears keenly listening for the sign of your departure.

After a minute of quietness, he can only assume you've slipped away silently. He sighs, half in relief and half in his sorrow.

"What are you busy doing?"

Your voice pipes up and Azriel glances behind him, surprised that you haven't left after all. His wings tuck in a little tighter.

"y/n." He murmurs your name and it comes out almost as a plea. Now, faced with you pulling apart his loose lie, Azriel finds he doesn't have it within him to lie to your face. "Please."

You don't say anything.

Azriel's shadows dance around him, agitated and frenzied, and he wills them to calm— though, that had always been an impossible request in your presence. He takes a sharp inhale and walks towards the door, leaving you behind on the rooftop.

He gets halfway down the hallway, heading for his room before your voice calls out again.

"Busy avoiding me?"

You've followed him from the training ring and now you stand at the end of the hallway, your arms crossed firmly across your chest. Your face is contorted into a hard expression, a furrow between your brows.

Azriel sighs and turns back to you. He hadn't been able to keep his secret from Mor — why, oh why did he think that he would have any more luck when it came to you?

You— enigmatic, wonderful you. Maybe, all Azriel hopes to do today is to delay the inevitable rejection for a different day. An easier day.

A day where he isn't feeling so easily undone by his the enormity of his envy. Envious of what he can't have but so desperately desires.

As he turns to face you, it's impossible to miss the way your eyes dart down to his bare chest. You stare for a moment too long and it looks like it takes an effort to drag your eyes up. You swallow heavily, the bob of your throat unmissable. Even from afar, Azriel swears there's a glow to your cheeks.

No. No, he wasn't doing that to himself anymore! He wouldn't— he couldn't be having those thoughts about you anymore. You had a lover for Mother's sake.

"I'm not—"

"Oh my Gods, don't even try to say you're not avoiding me." You interrupt him sharply. You begin to stamp your way down the hallway, eyes narrowed, your annoyance clear to see.

A door in the hallway opens. Distracted by something over his shoulder, Cassian takes a blundering loud step out into the hallway before he freezes.

He spots you first, eyes widening and wings bunching up at your obvious fury. His head turns, finding Azriel down the other end of the hallway.

"Oh... Mother, this is happening now, huh? I'm just gonna— uh, get food later." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, quickly turning and disappearing back into his room. His door closes with a quiet snip.

In the moment of distraction, you don't notice how Azriel has moved away stealthily— his shadows aiding his quiet getaway. He's not entirely sure what his plan is; he doubts he can avoid this argument by simply shutting himself in his room. Turns out, he's selfish enough to be willing to try.

Sure enough, it takes another moment before his wings twitch, his shadows reporting on your incoming footsteps moments before he hears them himself.

He busies himself with digging through his drawers and sends a silent request to the House, praying it might keep the door locked against you.

He can do this— he can swallow down his burning heart and keep your friendship he values so dearly, he swears he can. Just not today.

He hears the door open.

Glancing up, he narrows his eyes at the House and calls it a foul word in his mind. The Faelights of his room seem to twinkle mischievously in response.

"Az," You breathe softly.

His name sounds unbearably tender coming from your lips. His wings give a little rustle, curling closer around himself.

Despite his lack of reply, you aren't deterred. He can hear your footsteps, gentle and not at all like your prior furious stomps down the hallway, as they wind around his bed.

Chest stirring with an old ache, he keeps himself facing away. He slips a shirt on and prays you give him one more day to rein in his treacherous heart. One more day. He just can't do it today.

"Did I... Did I do something?"

Your voice is suddenly a lot smaller.

Azriel softens instantly at the sound of it, feeling his resolve begin to crumble. He crushes his eyes closed and thinks of what he had seen down in Velaris — forces himself to imagine you with another Male, in his arms, in his bed.

But even if his jealousy is so terribly unwarranted, he cannot bring himself to lie to you.

"No," The word grates out his throat roughly.

Because it's the truth. You hadn't done anything wrong and— and Azriel refused to hurt you just because he couldn't contain a few rampant feelings.

"Really?" The tinge of annoyance is back in your words and Azriel can't even blame you.

"Because then why it is that you have been avoiding me since— since the day I was-"

You cut your own words off and Azriel fills in the blank on his own. Since the day down in the city—where I saw you entering another Male's home, hidden in your cloak, like you were meeting a lover— and even though you're completely allowed to do that, I am like every other gods forsaken jealous Male in Prythian, getting upset over this, even if you are not truly mine.

He turns to you finally, his hands clenched at his side and he wills the next sentence out.

"What or who you choose to spend your free time with—" He inhales a long breath, forcing his face to remain neutral even as he feels his teeth grit together. "—is none of my concern."

Your face scrunches up, confused. Then the furrow between your eyebrows is back and Azriel feels a tad nervous. You aren't often angry, least of all with him.

"Cauldron boil me," You bury your face into your hands for a second. Then you drag them down languidly with a groan, peeking up at him over your hands.

"Did you follow me?"

Azriel feels a bit off-guard. His voice isn't as sure when he says, "It is my duty to survey my court."

You bristle a little at that and the nervousness within him grows a little bigger.

"'Who I choose to spend my time with?'" You repeat his words back to him with a tone of incredulity, your hands motioning wildly before you. Faintly, Azriel begins to sense the feeling of foolishness rising within him.

"For Mother's sake, Az, I was buying you a birthday gift, not sleeping with him!"

The moment the words burst from your lips, two things happen. Azriel stiffens, the true nature of your stealthy endeavor through Velaris making a fool of him indeed.

You were... cloaked and hidden because you had been planning a surprise. For him. For his birthday. Something he hadn't even considered was around the corner as it held no high merit with him. His eyes widen and his lips part an inch.

And you — you straighten up, eyes wide, looking as though you've been struck by lightning.

"You were jealous." You gasp.

Not a question, a statement.

"No," Azriel denies, without thinking. His heart rabbits in his chest. The irony of acting out the way he did, because jealousy had blinded him in the first place, is not lost on him.

Suddenly, all his envy is washed away, replaced quickly by a bumbling foolish embarrassment. He wishes he could winnow out of the House. He considers the window behind him for a moment, if only to spare himself from revealing his true feelings to you.

One glance back at your face, your expression edging towards crestfallen, and any thoughts of running away vanishes.

"Yes." He quickly amends, voice meek.

His wings give a little shudder, twisting in closer as he realises what he's admitted aloud. How there was no coming back from this.

No one had ever made him as loose-tongued as you do. Azriel is embarrassed to be caught stumbling over his words.

"I realise..." He croaks out, suddenly finding the slats of the floorboards immensely more interesting. His shadows have slowed from their nervous frenzy, making lazy motions instead, as if to soothe him. "That may not be ideal. My feelings, that is."

A beat of silence. Azriel studies a spot on the floor intently. His heart flounders wildly behind his ribs. His embarrassment seeps something closer to mortification.

Your shoes peek into the edge of his vision and Azriel's head shifts up slowly, his hazel eyes finding yours and burning into them.

His shadows whisper a thousand things to him — but all of them are dulled, quietened, as he simply stares at you. Feels something between the pair of you hang in the balance, just a breeze from unraveling.

Your eyes are bright. Acutely, he realises he can smell relief rolling off you in heavy waves. Amongst it, too, is a hint of... happiness. Happiness.

“Oh, you big Illyrian baby,” You coo, a teasing lilt to your tone.

His cheeks grow warm. Something white-hot tips down his spine as you step in closer, swaying into his space. He can smell the alluring scent of you and his heart thrums in his chest at your nearness, aching to be closer.

"Some spymaster you are, huh?" You say, voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel stays silent but his head tilts to the side just an inch in his puzzlement, his eyebrows knitting together. Hazel eyes peer at you with such an intensity that it sends goosebumps crawling across your skin— his eyes searching your face for answers to his thousand questions.

"Knowing everything except for this." You continue, words feather-soft.

You don’t say what this is but Azriel thinks he knows. Hopes he knows. His hands at his sides clench tighter, his fingers curled up into fists, and the motion catches your attention.

Moving so slowly, you reach out and gingerly take his wrist between your delicate fingers. Azriel lets you. A whine crawls up in the back of his throat and his swallows it back down.

He watches closely as you pull his hand up, forward, cradling it with your own two. His fingers twitch, so unfamiliar with such tender touches.

The shadows scouring around his shoulders burst into a frenzy, circling down his arms and twirling around your intertwined hands. It's as though they're... dancing, Azriel thinks.

"I... hoped." He admits quietly, his voice full of longing.

You shift his mottled hand, turning it gently so his palm is facing yours. Then you hold your own up against it, like you're comparing hand sizes.

Azriel can barely tear his eyes off where your hand presses into his to look up at you. Something molten hot begins to scorch through his veins. A realisation. A dream that may be finally answered. It feels like pure starlight.

Your hand is dwarfed against his own scarred one — and when Azriel curls his fingers, they hug the top of yours gently. You press back against his hand, like the smallest hug back.

You murmur back. "You don't need hope."

Your gaze skirts up from your joined hands, your lips twitching into a nervous smile.

Your eyebrows have drawn together in the middle, just a bit, as though what's happening is something you find devastatingly beautiful. As though you think that way about him. About the two of you, together.

Azriel finds himself thinking of all he would give in the world —all the mountains he'd move and dragons he'd slay— for you to keep looking at him that way.

"You already have me."

[simplyalicee]

˚₊‧꒰ა bittersweet ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Sebastian x GN!reader, angst(?) and fluff

TW: none

You were tired. Oh, so tired.

Your fraile figure trembled from the unbearable freezing temperature. Your body ached with exhaustion and hunger. When was the last time you had a proper meal? Hours felt like days. You were numb. So much pain, yet you stood. How could you possibly continue with your state? You felt as if you were about to collapse from the pressure.

You wanted to go back. Stop your mission and head back to the surface. But could you risk that potential for freedom? To go back empty-handed and be tossed back in your cell? To risk more years of being falsely incarcerated? No, no you could not. You hadn't seen the light of day for years. It felt like forever since you've last saw your loved ones. You craved their affection, their gentle touch, their words sweet like honey. You missed them so terribly.

Going back was not an option.

Urbanshade made the objective very clear; retrieve the crystal. You weren't disclosed of any other information. You were going into this deadly mission practically blind. You were left to navigate through the destroyed labs and risk your life with dangerous creatures with the thirst of blood and malice. It always amazed yet terrified you of how capable every entity was.

Speaking of... what was that sound?

You heard the faint sounds of something— screaming? No, it didn't sound like screaming. But whatever it was, time ran shorter as the room shook, knocking drawers and other objects down to the ground. Glass shattered on the ground. You grew frantic of this new presence and rushed to the nearest locker. You crammed yourself inside and closed your eyes tightly, bracing yourself for an angler fish to swoop by.

But it wasn't an angler fish.

Instead, you were met with pounding against the locker doors. You shook with the locker and, fortunately, instinctively dug your bruised fingers into the opening slits of the locker. You opened your eyes to see an entirely new entity— all you could see were the many eyes that burned through your soul. You could feel your heart race as this new creature kept pounding on the locker, aching to reach you. Tears streamed down your face. Your grip loosened. You fought to keep up and keep the doors closed, but your exhaustion was catching up quicker.

As the doors were slammed against one final time, your fingers gave up and ceased proper functioning. You lost your grip. The locker shook once more and you closed your eyes. You prepared yourself to be met with nothing but cold, stinging death. You took what you thought was your last breath and murmured a goodbye.

But nothing happened.

Intrigued, you open your eyes and saw nothing. Was it already gone? You couldn't tell, but your heart pounded the longer you stayed inside. You quickly hopped out and took deep breaths to calm yourself. What was that thing? What did it want? Dumb question, it wanted you dead. Everything down here wanted you dead. But you tried not to think about that too much.

Once calmed down, you looked around your surroundings, noting the new hazards laid before you. You were so tired. You wanted to rest so badly. But rest was not an option here. You had researchers that needed your help, unfortunately. With a sigh, you forced your aching body through the doors and continued your path.

Foot after foot, breath after breath, you really were unsure if you'd make it out alive. You were deprived of food, sleep, and warmth. Not to mention that there were more ponds of water to swim through than anticipated. You were soaked. And, with the harsh coldness burning your exposed skin, you were left numb and pained. The urge to cry became strong but you were simply too weak to cry.

Come door 50, you were met with another dark room. Wonderful. Your flashlight was nearly out of juice and other light sources you had on you were dead. So much for savoring light. You decided to try to save the remaining battery power and venture through the darkness. Each footstep inside made you more paranoid of those squiddles. Those horrific faces that would burn into you if you dared to flash your light or come close.

Alas, as your paranoia was at an all-time high, you heard a voice call out to you.

"Hey friend, over here."

You shrieked and jumped from the sudden break of silence. Oh no, was tnis your demise? You couldn't tell anymore. But judging from whoever just spoke to you actually communicated with you through language instead of aggression, you were quick to get moving to find the source. Now was the good time to use the flashlight. You turned the light on and cautiously waved the light around. You found more desks, the usual. But a vent caught your eye. Maybe it came from there? You were uncertain, but it was better than being out here. With a mumble, you got down to your knees and crawled through the tight space.

The path wasn't long, and thank heavens that there was some decent lighting up ahead. You crawled and made your way into a decently big room. But that's not what caught your eye, obviously. As you stood up and began dusting yourself, your eyes met some... thing? Unimaginable. Your jaw dropped. This creature was huge, possibly 20 to 30 times bigger than you. You couldn't help but stare at his features; pale blue skin, his eyes glowing a soft cyan, his black hair that looked soft to the touch, his attire covering his upper body; you couldn't help but be both amazed and petrified.

"Welcome, new friend! Don't be afraid, I'm not going to hurt you. My name is Sebastian, your only friend." His voice was oddly warm and welcoming, but you knew to not underestimate him over some hospitality. You were very small compared to him.

Sebastian opened his mouth to continue but stopped himself almost immediately. You were confused for a moment, not aware that you were slowly slumping to the ground. You were trying to pay attention and had not realized your own body was giving up on you. And Sebastian was no idiot. He could easily tell you weren't well. And before you knew it, your knees buckled below you, causing you to slip and crash down on the floor. Consciousness slipped mere seconds after.

Sebastian stared down at you for a short moment. He was clearly dumbfounded, had he not expected this outcome. He could just leave you be on the cold surface. But instead, he slowly reached his hands out and carefully picked you up. You were so small, so fragile. So tired and numb. Sebastian frowned, knowing there wasn't much he could do. He felt your cold state and shivered.

"You're colder than ice," he murmured under his breath. In a way, he kind of felt bad. There were no blankets around, so Sebastian resorted to carefully holding you in his arms to keep you warm. He kept you close to him as his eyes examined your state. He simply sighed and shook his head. Why go this far for you? You might as well be someone ungrateful, right? His thoughts rushed through his head but yet kept you in his arms regardless. Eventually, he gave up and sighed.

"You owe me," he mumbled under his breath and covered you with his jacket before leaning himself against the wall. He couldn't believe he was doing this for you. So ungrateful.

Although, he hadn't had something to hold in a little while. So maybe this wasn't so bad after all.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

Written closely to lore, writer is tired.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

(your girl is back and better than ever with a new chapter. took me a while to make this but please don’t hate simon💔 I think i accidentally made his internal monologue very conflicting, plus reader is going THROUGH IT, hate to leave yall on a cliffhanger but…enjoy?)

tw: mentions of rape, forced injection, punching, doctor, implied assault, panic attack, derealization, fighting, dysfunctional pack dynamic, omegaverse, lying, manipulating, illegal medicine, drugs??, mental breakdown/spiraling

Simon Riley was used to being alone.

It was the way he’d grown up, surrounded by nobody but his hateful father, his quiet mother, and his troubled brother.

He’d been the quieter one in school, though rowdy and easily riled up. Minding his business, for the most part. He didn’t need an unnecessary fight, especially not when he had too many at home already.

Broken glass at home stained the walls, seeping into the brick until not even the fresh start of his recruit days, the long bus ride to his very first training camp, where he stared out the window and wondered if this was the right path for him. The sky had been dark that day, raining hard, hitting the windows and slamming into them with a force beyond the punch his face took, the pain slamming him back into the moment suddenly.

“You left them!”

Johnny had come into his room late at night, not the nest, Ghost hadn’t slept there for a few days now. From what he heard, the alpha was still hiding away in the room, plagued by parasites of a weakness they couldn’t control.

Soap had almost been avoiding Simon.

Of course, he’d noticed, the previous bright-eyed smiles replaced with little glances, judging, piercing, as if trying to find the answer. The hugs and pats, the kisses, the little scenting, replaced by an eerie emptiness that made Simon, hell, made Ghost feel entirely alone.

Price was cooped up in his office. Working himself to death, doing background checks, and research, when he wasn’t hanging onto Kyle with a desperation Simon hadn’t seen before.

Kyle was maintaining a subtle distance from him. The two of them hadn’t always been the closest, but this was different, he knew.

At least Ghost tried telling himself Soap was simply affected by the bullet in his brain, that differences in behavior and cognitive functions had been put down as symptoms, that PTSD could play a role, panic attacks, that the Johnny he knew may never be back again.

He’d been assigned as the handler of Soap, with Price already under enough stress handling the aftermath of the mission.

“It’s likely he may have outbursts of violence, or sudden displays of unusual behavior or activity.”

The doctor’s voice had explained, monotone and flat, not particularly interested at all. As if this wasn’t a miracle. As if it wasn’t good enough.

Simon never liked doctors.

There was a difference, in his eyes, between being unaffected by death and killing, it was easy to kill someone, but then saving someone? It was incredible.

To bring a corpse with glossy eyes back to life and bring a human being back from wherever you go after you die, was a feat that Simon had never thought possible.

But they’d done it to his Johnny. And here this doctor was, acting as if it was his normal 9-5.

Simon had swallowed his feelings down, his pride down as well, as he found himself doing much too often these days, and nodded stiffly. Jaw clenched and fingers in tight fists, itching for something.

The man droned on, pulling a small card from his white coat pocket, the card having an email and number, something Simon could recognize as contact information, and handed it to him.

“If he has any serious episodes, where he poses a risk to himself or others, contact us and we’ll take him back into the hospital indefinitely.”

Simon had pocketed the card, later setting it under his thin mattress for later.

“They needed you! And you left!”

Soap’s fists pounded into Simon’s chest, the height difference almost laughable in any other situation.

Johnny’s scent was dark, deep like molasses, with a bit of a sour tang to it that made Simon’s nose wrinkle. He could still smell your scent wafting off of Soap, the man had spent nearly an entire day sitting in your room with you.

Too attached too quickly, if you asked him. You may never recover, at this rate. Not with the past trauma, or the consistent symptoms despite nearly a week having passed by now.

“They had a goddamn panic attack because I scented them, you think they wanted me there? They didn’t need me.”

Simon knew what he’d done was wrong. He’d been forcefully scented before and knew what it felt like to have handprints burned into your skin that would never leave. He didn’t know your full past, but he knew enough to understand your reaction.

You wouldn’t have wanted him there. Surely.

Price should’ve been there, he was their main omega, strongest scent, the leader of their pack. Price should’ve been there.

It snuck into his tone, the subtle accusation, and Johnny paused just to step back a moment, tear-stained eyes, that sent a pang through Simon’s heart he didn’t acknowledge, staring in disbelief.

“You’re blaming this on Price?”

The angry Scot yelled, launching a fist forward that Simon caught, carefully moved his arm to his side, and forcefully held it there. It was for his own good.

“Stop. You’ll rip a stitch.”

Simon muttered, glowering as he moved, looking around at where he knew by heart where the wounds were.

He knew he was overcompensating, doting, and looking strictly after Soap, watching his every move, because his instincts wanted him to make sure you were okay first and foremost. It was a truth he couldn’t ignore.

Except, well, he could ignore it.

“You’re worried about me? I’m not the one bedbound, hardly eating, that hasn’t left the same room in a week.”

A moment of silence as Johnny stared at him in fury, shoving him off, and turning to storm away.

Your scent was left lingering in his room. He’d grown to hate it. It wasn’t unpleasant, simply a harsh reminder of the fact that Soap, his Johnny was drifting away from him.

Simon was used to the bitter taste of loneliness on his tongue, but he wasn’t used to having something so sweet given to him, only to be stolen away.

It wasn’t fair.

He’d become friends with Soap through missions, saving each other’s asses, stupid jokes, bleeding wounds, and bullet holes, but you were drawing Johnny near just because you were some sad little alpha, taking advantage of his instincts.

Taking advantage of him.

And now Simon Riley was losing his friend, comrade, lover, all because of you.

If he thought about it, maybe that had been your plan all along. Plant the seeds against him, draw the others in by manipulating their instincts, till you slowly replace him.

The door slammed shut, and he was left alone in his room, thoughts spiraling in a harsh whirl until he stumbled over to his medicine cabinet, grabbing his heat suppressants, a blacked-out list of risks and symptoms (he didn’t ask questions, it wasn’t like he got them legally anyway), and popped some in his mouth.

The others thought he had simply had many of his omega qualities tortured out of him.

A lie.

Unimportant, though, compared to what they all faced now. Simon needed to stop this, whatever was happening between you and Johnny, whatever you were doing to him, changing him.

He walked to his mattress, the floor spinning slightly until it stopped, and lifted his mattress, grabbing the business card and giving it a closer look.

Grabbing his old, cracked phone, he decided he had a call to make.

~

Johnny had been coming to visit often, staying the night more often.

The thin military blanket was beginning to smell like him, it helped that he scented it as often as possible when he wasn’t busy gently inching his way closer to you, testing the limits.

The lights weren’t as bad now, but the primal part of your brain still itched and clawed at your every action, controlling and demanding, convinced you were in danger.

Constantly being in a state of fight or flight was exhausting.

Not to mention that the state of fight or flight meant reduced saliva production, deeper breathing, dilated pupils, increased heart rate, and more symptoms that made surviving harder than it had been before.

It was like you were hibernating. Sleeping all day, waking up in a haze with fog in your brain, drinking nearly a gallon, and eating as much as Kyle could get you to, before collapsing again.

Your Sympathetic nervous system was working overtime.

Johnny had stayed with you, told you stories to pass the time when you had been even semi-conscious and not trying to fight him.

“You know, Simon, the big assface who made you freak out in the first place?”

You vaguely remembered him. The big boy with the skull mask.

“He’s not tha’ bad, really. I mean, fuck, I’m pissed at the bastard, but I love ‘im, you know?”

It had made you shift up a little, foggy brain clearing a bit in the present moment as Johnny sighed, rubbing at his eyes. He looked like he’d been crying.

For some reason, you didn’t like that.

The emptiness of the room seemed to disappear for a moment, as you inched forward just a bit, moving towards him. You hadn’t been in control of yourself in quite a while, instincts running your body in order to survive.

Johnny didn’t seem to notice, sniffling, rubbing at his eyes, and leaning back as he stared at the concrete ceiling with 8,738 freckles of darker grey. You’d counted.

Being stuck in your head meant you had a lot of spare time.

“I just—he’s always tryin’ to act tough, never wants to talk with me, I just wanna help him, you know?”

The crushing atmosphere of the room seemed to lighten, like you’d been pulled suddenly from the bottom of the Marianas Trench, and were floating high above it all now, as you reached him, wrapped your hands around him.

This time, it wasn’t instincts making you do it. Protective mode kicked into overdrive by something you couldn’t control. No, this was because this was your friend, your family, your pack.

And he was hurt.

By “Simon”.

Your tongue lay uselessly in your mouth like lead, eyes sullen as they draped down onto the floor, eyelids slowly swooping down until you could simply smell his salty tears and his scent, upset, troubled, anxious.

It didn’t make you lean away, or wrinkle your nose in disgust or distaste. Your scent had been worse, you knew, and he’d never shown a lick of judgment for it.

It lifted for a moment, the haze, the feeling of being in danger and needing help, as he leaned into you, and you cradled his warm body, the slightly overgrown ridiculous mohawk, the scruff of his face rubbing gently against your arms. His warm tears pooled on your shirt, body leaning limply into you, sobs shaking his body.

For just a moment, everything felt all right.

Good, even.

A moment of silence came, where both of you seemed to simply melt into the world, only to be shattered moments later when he wiped his tears, going to try and hold you back, only for his brows to furrow when he touched your face.

Your head cocked slightly sideways at the confusion in his expression, and he moved, sitting up, seeming suddenly alert as he hurriedly wiped any remaining tears away and laid the back of his hand against your forehead.

“Hell’s bells, you’re burning up. Gotta call the doc’—“

You went to object, panic building up, scooting away from him. You didn’t want to see the doctor. You didn’t like doctors, how they poked and prodded, touched what wasn’t theirs, did their fancy tests with their gadgets, so desensitized to it all.

Before your mouth could even open, the door slammed open, and Johnny was on his feet in half a second, staring down the man in a lab coat, accompanied by two armed men.

“Sergeant MacTavish, we would appreciate your cooperation in this matter,”

Johnny sighed, running a hand through his hair, his other hand gesturing towards you.

“Good, you’re here, they’re burnin’ up, doc, something’s gotta be wrong, I mean with their sickness and all that shite—“

The look on Soap’s face visibly changed to confusion and a hint of anger when he saw Ghost lurking behind the three men up front, mask on, deep brown eyes watching everything happen as the armed men moved forward, taking Johnny by surprise as they shoved him against the wall.

He struggled, kicking and flailing, eyes widening as one of the men pulled out a syringe.

“The fuck is this-? Ghost, call ‘em off! I didn’t do a damn thing, tell them!”

He yelled frantically, struggling as the needle was pushed into his neck, fluid injected as he grunted. He glanced over at you, huddled in the corner of the room, watching with wide eyes and a hand over your mouth.

“Ghost!”

He glanced at Simon once again, confusion in his cloudy gaze as his limbs slowly began failing him. The doctor stepped forward, pressing a hand against your forehead, frowning when you clawed the hand off.

“Simon?”

His vision went blurry, shapes turning to blobs of color, until everything went black, the last thing he heard being,

“…them as well. We’ll need to find the cause of the fever.”

~

Kyle hadn’t seen either Ghost or Soap all day, which was odd, considering they were usually wondering about the base, especially Soap at this time.

Usually, Ghost would’ve hit the gym on base by now, maybe gone to Price’s office, where Kyle was currently seated, savoring the scent of his Captain before it faded in the coming week.

The door opened, and Ghost walked in, pace just a bit faster than normal. Kyle perked up, brows raising in surprise as he set down the file he’d been browsing over, the alpha’s extensive background, and psychological testing results. He’d read it until it was burned into his skull.

“Gaz.”

A gruff greeting, but a hint of surprise in it. Kyle studied Ghost for a minute, his stiff posture, clenched fists, the look in his eye. It was odd, but they all had their own ways of coping with the recent events, he supposed.

Everyone was stressed.

“Ghost.”

A tense moment of silence.

“Where’s the Captain?”

Gaz casually set the folder back in its designated filing cabinet, as if it hadn’t been high above his clearance, high enough to get him disciplinary action even from Price. A little snooping never hurt, after all.

“Out on a mission, surprised he didn’t tell you. Short notice, I guess, he’ll be gone for a week’s the word.”

He mentally reprimanded himself for making an excuse for Price. That wasn’t his job, nor his place.

Ghost gave a slow nod, clearing his throat, and almost seeming to hesitate before speaking.

“Soap’s been…admitted.”

Kyle raised a brow at that. Soap had been doing well up until now, as far as he’d seen. Bonding with their alpha, slowly healing pack relations.

“Any particular reason why?”

“Had an episode. A bad one.”

Kyle grimaced at that. They all had their fair share of PTSD, but he couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to be shot in the head, maybe have an entirely different personality, to deal with the aftermath of that. He couldn’t imagine how hard it was on Ghost to have to make that call.

“Guess that means the rut-partner responsibility’s shifted.”

Price had originally been in charge of any rut a potential team-alpha went through, as long as both parties were comfortable with the arrangement. With Price gone, and your closest contact here, Soap, clearly not in the mental state to do anything, it was between Ghost and Gaz.

Ghost was a higher rank than Gaz, meaning the responsibility fell on his shoulders.

Kyle watched the realization dawn on the man, the way he unconsciously almost seemed to fiddle with his fingers, as if nervous. The Ghost was never nervous. He’d shared heats with Soap before, albeit after a bit of warming up to each other.

His behavior had been strange all day, for quite a few days, now that he thought of it.

Something was off. But he didn’t know what yet.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

[vikkirosko]

👻 Ghost Face x Reader headcanons Photographer's photo 📸

The day you found yourself in a strange, foggy place, you thought it was your unluckiest day in life. From what you've learned from other people you've met, you won't be able to return home. You were trapped, where you had to try to survive while being chased by a killer. Their words seemed like nonsense to you until you got to the trial. Everything that was happening seemed like a cruel joke to you. You were hurt, you were scared, but there wasn't much you could really do. You were just trying to survive, and for that you worked in a team with people you had never seen before. Maybe you couldn't die completely, but that didn't mean you wanted to feel the pain of being beaten or killed. You thought you were in some kind of strange Hell, until one day you saw someone you'd only heard of before. You saw the Ghost Face

It took you a couple of minutes to make sure that you weren't asleep and that it wasn't an illusion. It really was him. You knew a lot more about him than the others, because you were, in a sense, his fan. You were a teenager when you first found out about it and it became a little fix idea for you. You studied everything you could find about him, learning more and more about the truth, even if you had to break the law a little bit to do it. You found out about his murders that took place in Roseville, you found out about Jed Olsen. You've collected a lot of information by putting together the pieces of the puzzle, one by one. Even when you got older, this idea didn't go away from your head. You didn't dwell on it or build your life around discovering its secrets, but it was something you spent a lot of time on. However, there was something that remained a mystery to you. Where did he go. You knew that one day he just disappeared, he stopped killing, the police didn't catch him. He just disappeared. Eventually, his case was closed and the police stopped looking for him, but you tried to find his tracks. You traveled around the country for this, you talked to people who might know something, but it turned out that everything was much simpler. He just found himself in a world of an incomprehensible entity and was now killing people there. Really, nothing special. The realization made you want to scream and laugh at the same time

You've been watching him whenever you get the chance. At such times, you were glad that your teenage years had brought you a lot of experience in secret penetrations. You were glad that you had a phone and could take pictures of it. Your unwitting comrades guessed that you were strange, but as long as you didn't hand them over to the killers, they were fine with it. Your phone was full of photos of Ghost Face, including when he was killing your comrades. You were able to witness him taking a photo of one of your comrades during the murder, and you just couldn't resist taking a picture of it. However, you were too careless and he noticed you. He noticed you taking his picture, and then you hurried away, not wanting to become his next victim. But you didn't realize that what you did aroused his interest. Usually, the survivors would try to escape as quickly as possible after seeing him, but you definitely followed him. He had noticed it some time ago and now he was finally convinced that he had not imagined it. That's why he decided to find out, and maybe it would be a good opportunity for him to have fun watching you try to find excuses for your actions

It didn't take him long to find you, but he didn't expect you to call him Mr. Olsen. You knew that you wouldn't be able to escape this time, so you decided to take advantage of the situation. You asked him how long he's been here, explaining along the way that you were trying to find out where he went after Roseville. You hurriedly said that you traced the path of his murders from city to city, but it was Roseville that became the place after which all traces simply disappeared, and you were wondering if he disappeared right after that or if he first lay low and only then got to this strange place. He was surprised that you knew so much and how excited you were. You hesitantly confessed to him that you were in some way his fan and the last thing you expected was to meet him in person. Your words amused him, and that's the only reason he gave you the opportunity to escape. But that didn't mean he was going to leave you alone. It wasn't often that Danny met people who knew so much about him and who paid sincere compliments about his murders

Danny has been looking for you a lot. You weren't afraid of him, even knowing that he could easily kill you, which he continued to do from time to time. You really admired him, even though you tried not to say absolutely everything that was in your head. You couldn't even remember everything you had told him, and Danny was actively using it. He liked that he had a fan in your face. He liked listening to what you had learned about him and seeing the embarrassment on your face when you realized that you had complimented him. He liked to see you embarrassed, and he even thought about taking advantage of your desire to learn more about him so that you could visit him outside of trials. He was sure that you would be able to amuse him properly if he could get you to be there. Since you're both stuck together, he intended to get as many positive emotions out of your presence as possible

[vllergy]

freedom of nature's gifts

h/alsin b/g3 allergy, kink tav, 2.1k for those not familiar with the fandom: enormous kinky beefcake bear-coded druid who is felled by nothing wanders off into the woods to sneeze without disturbing his companions for those familiar: pls enjoy astarion being an absolute bitch about it for .5 seconds regular goodies: allergies, vouyuerism, partner with the kink extra flavor: giant man, giant snz, formerly indomitable force meets pollen, forced politeness, h/alsin being a sap tbh THIS IS JUST FOR ME I WROTE THIS FOR ME OK SORRY YOU HAVE TO SEE IT

“And here I thought druids were supposed to appreciate all of nature’s many charms.” Astarion’s musical voice drips with amusement. Tav picks up on it outside his tent as the lithe shadow of the elf passes over the sun drenched silk of his doorway. Just behind him, Karlach’s larger figure marches diligently along the same path.

“Oh, he’s appreciating them all right,” she snorts.

Tav rubs his eyes and rolls over. It’s morning, or at least it feels like it from the ache in his spine and the slightly cool air whisking over from the lake. He picks his head up and tries to follow the thread of conversation. His companions are talking about a druid, so they must mean Halsin. Tav hasn’t seen him since the night before.

Memories come warm and sticky like honey. Halsin’s hazel eyes fond in firelight. A low chuckle. A massive hand settled onto the small of Tav’s back. His heart quickens just at the thought.

Outside, Karlach sighs with a note of sympathy. “Never heard anyone sneeze so much in my life.”

Tav’s heartbeat nearly catapults out of his chest at that. His fingers fist in his blankets before he tears them away and scrambles up. Despite wishing to burst free from the tent like a demon, he tries to make his movements as unhurried as possible. It’s with great effort that he emerges from his sleeping arrangements without appearing impatient and affects a bored glance over at the others as they settle around the warm embers from last nights campfire.

“Morning,” Tav says and makes a show of scrubbing his eyes.

“Good morning to you too, darling,” Astarion purrs, “And aren’t you looking lovely?”

“Heya, soldier. You sleep okay?” Karlach waves.

Tav nods. His patience has limits, however. “What were you guys talking about?”

Karlach gestures back over her shoulder towards the tree line, “Halsin. Surprised you didn’t hear him earlier this morning. Poor guy was sneezing his head off before he crawled off to the woods to do it in private.”

The warm flooding of pleasure in Tav’s stomach doesn’t stop his momentary concern. “Is he alright?”

Astarion’s eyes glitter with amusement, “He says it’s the flowers growing nearby setting him off.”

The vampire looks positively delighted to be delivering said information, as if he knows what it’s doing to Tav. Tav knows that’s impossible, and Astarion is clearly just tickled by the irony of it all, but it still makes his cheeks flush with unexpected warmth.

“A druid with allergies! Ha!” Astarion claps his hands once, “You can’t make this up.”

“I should go see if he needs anything,” Tav chews the inside of his lip. His body feels like it’s full of needles.

Thankfully, he has a well-known weak spot when it comes to Halsin. His abrupt need to go to check on him isn’t exactly out of the ordinary, nor is it any cause for suspicion. Astarion merely waves him off with a delicate hand and Karlach nods sagely. “Tell him he can come back any time, big guy’s too hard on himself.”

“I’d rather he stay out there,” Astarion balks, “I’d like to preserve my hearing, thank you very much.”

Tav leaves them to squabble and heads for the tree line where Karlach indicated. He knows he should probably change into something other than the clothes he slept in but he’s too warm already and the thought of delaying getting to Halsin makes her skin feel even more prickly and sharp.

—

Given how familiar he is with the volume with which Halsin can expel an irritant, Tav has some idea of what he’s getting into. Even still, the first far off sneeze he manages to catch once he’s in proximity stuns him with its power. The druid still has to be a few hundred feet off but Tav hears it clear as day. It's an unrushed, heavy thing with so much of Halsin’s voice in it, his knees go weak.

It only takes him a matter of moments to close in on his lover’s position. And when he does, the sight there unravels him completely.

Tav has never seen Halsin at the mercy of anything that wasn’t his animal form. That particular loss of control has always been wickedly erotic to him as well, just for the sheer rarity of it. It's not something Halsin enjoys succumbing to, however. The first time it happened when they made love, he’d been apologetic about it. Sheepish, even.

Halsin is a man who is undaunted by much of anything. It’s not surprising that the few things able to bring him to his knees are difficult for him to come to grips with. Tav thinks surrender must be a strange concept for a man who has burdened himself with nothing but crippling responsibility for over a millennia. When is the last time Halsin let himself truly be vulnerable to something? Does he remember how to surrender?

Tav would argue that yes, he does, because that's the only word that describes what’s happening here.

Halsin’s sitting under the cover of a tree on a large stump. He’s clearly been in the throes of this fit for some time, true to Astarion and Karlach’s report. Evidenced by the redness of his nostrils, the tears slicked down his tattooed cheek and the limp handkerchief laid open in his massive palm. The man appears breathless, panting with indulgent, open-mouthed gasps as his nostrils swell. He doesn’t even bother to open his eyes as he lets another clockwork sneeze take him.

“huh’uRRSSCHHHH’HOO!”

if he’d been using the handkerchief before, he’s abandoned it now, optioning to simply sneeze down in its general direction rather than try to contain any part of the expulsion. And Tav can see why. There’s hardly any point. Halsin's sizable chest swells with one, languid breath and whatever fire’s been stoked within his sinuses catches again and he sneezes without reprieve.

“hh’RRRAAAASSH’UUE!”

He still hasn’t opened his eyes. Tav wonders how long he’s been stuck like this, in an endless cycle of chest-clearing sneezes with barely a breath between. The idea of it being more than a few minutes is deeply intriguing to him, but also a little worrying. How much can one man possibly sneeze? He’s never seen Halsin like this. In fact, he can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen the druid sneeze. Tav has, after all, been paying attention.

“hh’RrrRSSCHH! hh? Hh! Hh’hhRRUSSh'SHOO!” Halsin teeters on the edge of a third, eyebrows bunched together, an allergic tear sliding down his cheek. He hangs on the precipice for an agonizing moment before roaring with the ferocity of a bear into the final one. “Hh’hhRrAAASSCHHH’uHH!!!”

His shoulders tremble with the force and Tav’s vested interest in the display finally makes room for guilt. He steps forward, purposely landing hard enough on the foliage underfoot to snap a twig and announce his presence.

“Halsin?” He calls.

The druid tenses. He straightens up and his eyes flash over to the treeline, surprised and a little guilty. He attempts a smile as color rises to his cheeks.

“Ah, my heart! I did not hhhea—excuse mhee’hh’WHFFHSHH!” He turns away promptly and smothers the harsh sneeze into his handkerchief, cutting the volume in half.

The propriety he insists on in front of Tav makes Tav’s legs feel like jelly. Moments ago he was sneezing with reckless abandon into the open air without a care in the world, but now he insists on sparing his lover from the display for a reason Tav can't ordain. They've seen each other bloodied and spent a thousand different ways before. How is this any different? Halsin twists away from him further, his massive shoulders swelling as he ducks into the handkerchief again. “H’hWHHFFSSShH!"

“Seven Hells, Halsin,” Tav murmurs. He lays a hand on the man’s back, “Bless you.” "My thhha-"

Tampering back those massive sneezes seems to make them vindictive, and Halsin can’t even get a proper thanks out before he's flinching back into a reflexive fit of them, once more trapped in his sodden handkerchief.

“wFFHSCHH! H’tSSCHh!” Halsin lifts his head and gasps desperately. Tav feels an odd sense of relief as the druid eschews a sense decorum for a cleansing, powerful third. “hhrh’RRSHHH-SHOO!”

“My thanks,” he murmurs directly after, but tends to his nose quickly before turning back to Tav. He sniffles unproductively and Tav notices his nostrils sharpening as they flare in an effort to stave off what he’s sure is another impending sneeze.

Tav gently tucks a lock of auburn hair that’s come loose from a braid behind Halsin’s pointed ear.

“Bless you,” Tav frowns, “How long has this been going on?”

Halsin looks dangerously close to another sneeze, but blinks furiously until the need abates. His auburn lashes look darker with irritated tears. He sniffs as delicately as he can, which Tav can only assume is incredibly unsatisfying, and gives a weak smile.

“The better part of the morning, I fear.”

“You could have woken me,” Tav murmurs, stroking fingers through his long hair.

Halsin chuckles, “I thought I might have, given the racket I was m—ma—ah, oohn...onnce more, apologies—“ He turns away and clamps the handkerchief over his nose and mouth. “h’WHFFHSHH'uhh!"

His lungs fill and he dips lower towards his lap.

“hh'RrSCHH!”

“I believe that was twice,” Tav teases, despite feeling his trousers getting uncomfortably tight.

Halsin lifts his head just enough to try and find a dry edge of the handkerchief. It doesn’t happen in time. His hazel eyes go narrow, unfocused, and he sneezes across it and his knuckles.

“Huh’uSSHH’HOO!”

“Gods, Halsin.” Halsin gives an experimental sniff. When he's certain it's not going to lead to another sneeze, he sags slightly and tilts his head back. "Oak Father preserve me." Tav's delirious at this point. He crouches down to get to Halsin's eye level, his hand lingering on the druid's knee. “How long does this usually go on?” Tav asks, worries for both of them at this point.

Halsin sniffs hard and finally finds the dry edge of the handkerchief, using it rather anticlimactically to dab at his raw nostrils. He blows his nose once while shaking his head. "Truthfully, I'm not certain. It hasn't been this bad in some time." "Would changing shape help?" Halsin chuckles, "Then, I would be sneezing as a bear." "Is that more pleasant?" "Perhaps for some," Halsin's eyes shimmer with sudden mischief beyond the allergic tears. Tav blinks. He takes a moment to process, then gapes. He smacks Halsin's knee and the druid gives a chesty laugh. "You bastard, how long have you known?" Tav asks. "My heart, you are many things, but subtle is not one of them," Halsin knuckles at his reddened nose and gives a warm smile that makes Tav melt on the spot. "Look, it's not like I meant to enjoy your suffering, I--" Halsin holds up a hand, "When have I ever given you the impression that you need apologize for your desires?"

Tav blushes. Halsin continues sniffling and tugs him forward by the hip. As he stumbles closer, Tav reaches for his face. His thumb clears away the track of an allergic tear from Halsin’s scarred cheek. "I do feel bad that you're miserable.”

“If it brings you pleasure,” Halsin says, his voice low, “Then I am not miserable.”

Tav lowers himself into Halsin’s lap. The druids hands dwarf his waist as he supports him, and also prevent him from worrying at his nose as he starts to lose himself to into the persistent tickle once more. Halsin goes to raise an arm but Tav captures it, lowering it back to his hip.

Halsin, to his credit, doesn’t even stop to question it. He lets the sneeze take him over fully, though habit still makes him turn his head as it barrels through him.

“h’HHRRUSSCHHH!”

Now that he’s seated astride him, Tav can feel the way his body clenches. Halsin has to be three hundred pounds of solid muscle, and each one of them turns to steel as he surrenders himself to the sensation. His chest quivers under Tav’s eager hands as he waits torturously for a second and his other hand reaches around the small of his back, holding the smaller man in place as he--

“uh'Hhh-!...huuh...eh'HUHH’ESSH’SHOO!”

Spray dapples in the sunlight from a break in the canopy of trees above. Tav's almost unseated from the man's lap with that one but certainly has no complaints. He's beaming as Halsin sniffles blearily once more and dips close to kiss at Tav's throat. "Tell the Oak Father I said thanks," Tav murmurs in bliss. That earns him a sharp pinch from Halsin, but thankfully no fewer kisses.

[urfavbooblover]

Letter with lipstick || Ada Wong x female reader

Warnings: none

(remind me if I missed any)

- Resident evil 4 masterlist link -

Y/N’s pov:

Earlier:

Sitting on my bed, i stared down at the letter in my hands. Her handwriting was beautiful, less of the words she wrote to me. She’s on a mission again, all the way in spain and couldn’t tell me one thing about it, neither why she was there. “It’s important”, she committed to the paper i was holding.

She just ended the letter with “Love, Ada”, as my eyes landed on the kiss she placed right next to it, with the lipstick she always wore. The kinda red i love seeing on her and she knew all about it. I let out a sigh, “The woman that you are, Ada.”, i said, folding it together again.

Ada and I are close, too close just to be partners. We ‘slipped’ one time and in the next moment you saw our lips all up on each others.

I missed her. I couldn’t stand the thought of now not seeing her again for who knows how long. She’s good at what she’s doing, fulfilling her job just for everyone to be more than satisfied and i was feeling proud of her, for how far she has come. But the thought of losing her, especially when she’s so far away, has taken over my brain.

I informed myself about the situation, asking everybody for detailed answers. Anybody needs to know where she’s at, no? They weren’t down right away to tell me, but eventually gave in. Who were they to stop her from going there? Exactly, she did her own thing, going after what’s happening in rural spain.

“I need you to take me there.”, i commanded, standing tall against them. There was nothing they could do about this either. I’m not easily giving up, someone must have the trust to let me ‘surprise’ my woman. At least that’s what i liked to call it. I know Ada will be more than caught off to see me, however she wouldn’t mind. Quite the opposite. I can’t expect much different than a nice welcome.

Present:

Now here i am. I’ve been dropped off by the helicopter and one of my kind co workers who brought me to this place. I can thank him a lot for this, i guess i owe him something but that’s not my worry yet. I have to find her. So i didn’t think much, i rather started looking at the area around me.

It looks like a farm, the area is completely destroyed. I walked over dead bodies, scrunching up my face in confusion. Nothing i’ve never seen before, but someone must’ve been the cause of this. Was it Ada?

I was informed about a little story, so i went careful into this. I was here for only one thing actually. Ada. Whatever comes in my way isn’t as much as important as her, nothing is. No one else. I was ready to be confronted by her pretty self and sped up my walking through the paths and winding ways.

I was prepared for everything. I had my weapons and all that i could possibly need. I’d do anything to bring us both out of here. Anything for us. She surely knows i don’t give up easily and most definitely wouldn’t on her. No one even compares to her and the way she makes me feel. There’s no one quite like Ada.

I needed answers though. Am i really on the right track? I guess i was answering my own questions and thoughts when i came across a giant creature laying eliminated on the ground. Who else could’ve defeated it? She was here, i was more than convinced.

I jogged along the stony and muddy path, when i suddenly heard something. I slowly moved forwards to where those sounds came from, confirming myself that i’m hearing voices. It was all blurry and i didn’t know whose it might be. Till i made out the statute of a familiar woman. My eyes landed on her, my woman.

“No way..”, i whispered to myself, taking one more step towards her. “Ada!”, i shouted, catching her attention. Her body turned around, slightly facing me. I felt something in my stomach, when i saw her face. She immediately recognized me, her gaze softening but then again with confusion written all over her. She was completely stunned and couldn’t seem to move.

“Y/N?”, she said in a questioning tone, as i moved over to where she was standing. I was about to open my mouth, before i glanced down. A man stood there, his eyebrows were furried together as my face expression could be read as jealous. Who the fuck is he?

“Y/N. Look at me.”, i heard her soothing voice close to my face, interrupting my staring interaction with that guy. I slowly turned my head, seeing the slight worry on her. “What are you doing here? How did you get here in the first place? Are you hurt?”, she placed her hand on my arm, only ever showing so much weakness around me.

“I’m okay, Ada. I came here just for one reason, it was a pretty long flight.”, i explained, looking into her eyes that always shined so beautiful. “What about you?”, i asked as she moved her hand down to grab my own. “I’m on this mission, i was doing fine till i saw you. Now i’m feeling even better.”, she gave me a small wink before that strange man interrupted us.

“Uhm? I’m still here.”, he said in a nervous tone, letting out a playful chuckle. “Who is-“, “I have a deal with him.”, Ada interrupted my question, knowing what i was about to ask. She knew how protective i can be of her. Not in a controlling way though, most things i do are out of worry, making sure she’s doing as okay as she always claims.

“I got a name too, lady.”, “I’m Luis. You must be that girlfriend Ada kept mentioning and talking about.”, he continued. Ada’s eyes widened in response as a smirk formed on my face. So she called me her girlfriend behind my back? “Well yes i am.”, i confirmed very proudly, as i could see a rose color appear on her cheeks.

I placed a gentle kiss on her cheek, taking her hand in mine. “I missed you, Ada.”, i whispered and watched her nervous state. “I missed you even more, Y/N.” I smiled at her, before looking down at Luis once more. “You surely don’t mind.”, i said, pulling Ada with me as we walked away from that scene.

“Hey! How am i supposed to get up here though?!”, Luis yelled after us, all desperate. We both chuckled to ourselves and i took Ada to a quiet place. I moved close to her body, our face just a few inches apart. “I came here just for you.”, i whispered, tilting my head a little to the side.

“Oh what would i do without you, Y/N.”, Ada responded in her typical flirty voice. “Be glad you have me.”, i muttered, closing the gap between us. It’s been way too long since the last time i felt her soft lips against mine. They tasted just like cherries.

[jessinotjess]

From the Ground Up - Chapter 2

Warnings: Canon-verse gore, violence, angst, and language. Not a whole lot of that in this chapter, however, it's coming.

I also should mention, this is sloooow burn to the fullest extent, don't say I didn't warn you.

This chapter does have quite a bit of dialogue from the OVA, so spoiler warning, and also may just feel repetitive if you've seen it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three months later, you’ve mostly settled into the crew. You were keeping up with Levi’s standards of cleanliness, moving in sync on various jobs, and getting to know each one of them a little more. Levi still has his reservations, not saying more than necessary to you, you could live with that. However, anytime the two of you spoke with one another, a burning heat filled the pit of your stomach. You weren’t entirely sure what it meant, but you decided it was best to limit your interactions for the time being.

     As you were all returning from a night out, you're greeted by an old man waiting at the bottom of the stairs to your shared home. You all eyed him skeptically, yours and Levi’s piercing glare having no effect on the man. He cleared his throat and produced a tight-lipped smile before jumping into an explanation of his presence. One of the crew's previous members had been taken above ground for medical treatment, as a down payment. You four, however, viewed it very differently. With Farlen’s leadership, Isabel’s determination, and the skills of both Levi and you with the gear and stealth, a precarious proposition is brought before you.

     Retrieving a scroll of information detailing proof of your client, a councilman’s, unlawful acts is to be snagged from none other than the leader of the scout regiment - Erwin Smith. It was not going to be a quick job, nor an easy one. There were many ways the job could go south. The team had received information that an elite squad of the scouts and Erwin would be in the underground soon, after you all.  Farlen had come up with a plan; the plan being you would attempt to swipe it from Erwin if opportunity presented, but there was also good intel that he was looking into the possibility of the recruitment of the four gang members flying over the underground in stolen ODM gear.

     However, as stated, your crew had no idea when that would be. Therefore, you continued with whatever other jobs came your way.

     About two weeks after discussing the plan, the four of you were making your way back to the house, having completed a job. You flew together on the ODM gear towards the western section of the underground. Furlan was to your right while Levi and Isabel flew ahead. You all sat in a comfortable silence, the wind whipping off your faces bringing a calming effect.

You were nearly back when you heard whirls behind you and more ODM gear. You glanced over your shoulder at the same time as the rest of your crew. “Military police.” Isabel spat with disgust, her face contorting.

“No. Look closely. They're wearing the wings of freedom - it's the scouts.” Levi turned back to face forward, his shoulders tensing.

“The plan is on, then,” Furlan muttered, keeping his voice from traveling to the scouts that were gaining pace on you from behind.

“Right.” You grunted, all nodding in acknowledgment. With that, Farlen and Isabel split down separate alleyways, and you remained close on Levi’s trail for a moment. More whirling from behind caused you to cast a glance over your shoulder. Two of the four scouts split off to follow Furlan and Isabel. Whilst you had full faith in the two and their capability to handle themselves, you still felt worry fill the pit of your stomach. With a scoff, you turned back forward and gritted your teeth. A building marked the end of the path you and Levi were currently on. Without a word, the two of you split, Levi tearing off at full speed through the building and you, tearing to the left. You dropped down to nearly the ground, swinging a tight corner and smirking to yourself when you heard hooks digging into the building behind you. With a newfound determination, you dip down to the right at a split in the road, before quickly sinking your anchors in behind you and dragging yourself backwards. As you flip to maneuver your weight onto your back, you watch as the scout flies over you, his eyes seething with fire through his hair as you change course, he's quick to correct, but not quick enough. With a quick up-pull of the gear, you fly into the sky and go above the buildings, flying to a nearby tunnel. You swiftly pull yourself in and through. With no sound of ODM gear in the tunnel with you, you slowed when you exited, only to feel something push on your back and cause you to lose balance and connection of your hooks, ungracefully crashing to the ground. You gritted your teeth as your clothing got covered in dirt before springing up to your feet. Your wrist burned like hell; you must have used it to break your fall, but you still gripped your knife tightly in your hand. The scout landed in front of you, drawing his blades. You made a move, and he quickly countered, meeting your blade with his own. You glared at him through the blades, and he pushed off your knife, causing you to step back. With swift movement, you move your blade through the air again, aiming for his shoulder. As you slice the skin of his shoulder, you hear shouting from behind you. It's Isabel. You hesitated for a mere second, but that was all the other needed to land a kick on your wrist after flipping backwards. With a hiss of pain, you dropped the knife. Before you could react further, he was behind you, grabbing your stinging wrist and pulling it behind your back.

     The three of you had been caught. They shackled you and led you two blocks over. Isabel fought the whole way, you and Furlan, however, remained straight-faced and silent - that is until you rounded the corner and saw Levi mid-fight with a blonde man. They had each other in a standstill, that was until the scout uttered something to Levi, and he tossed a glance over his shoulder, seeing the three of you. Isabel and Furlan signed in mock defeat, knowing that Levi had been cornered as well. You, however, continued to remain silent, a look of disinterest on your face. Levi let his knife clatter to the ground. He was swiftly placed in shackles.

     Mere moments later, the four of you were placed on your knees in a row. Erwin stood before you, and the rest of his squad was behind you, gazes trying to pierce the back of your skulls. Your gaze remained on the wet, grime-covered stone your knees were digging into. 

“I have some questions for you three. How did you obtain your ODM gear?” He held Levi’s gear in his hands, examining it. “You’re all quite skilled at maneuvering with it. Who was it that taught you how?” With a scowl, he loves to stand in front of Levi. “I take it you’re the group’s leader? Just how much military training do you have?” You hear Levi growl, his head raising to meet Erwin’s gaze, his signature glare unwavering. Before any of you can process movement, one of the scouts grabs a fistful of Levi’s hair and shoves him fast first into a puddle. Your shackles clang as you begin to move, but the scout who had caught you earlier moves behind you, putting his foot down on the chain of your shackles, contouring your body and making it impossible for you to move, only watch. Isabel and Furlan watch with horrified gazes as Levi twists his face to barely pull it from the water. Fire rises in your throat, your entire body flushing over with a raging heat.

     “You jerk!” Isabel hisses.

     “I’ll ask you once again. Who trained you in the use of ODM gear?” Levi makes no move to speak, still straining his head to try and move from the water.

     “None of us were trained, ok?” Furlan spoke, and your eyes shifted from Levi to Erwin. He met your gaze briefly, brows firmly knit together, before looking to Furlan. “We taught ourselves.”

     “That’s scarcely impossible. I don’t believe you.” You want nothing more than to knee Erwin in the gut, leave him bloody on the underground streets.

     “Yeah? Well, the definition of possible changes a bit when you’re trynna survive in a dump like this! But unless you know what sewage tastes like, I doubt that’s something you’d understand.”

     “Tell that thug of yours to let Levi go already! You can’t just torture people in the street!” Isabel was right, but you wouldn’t mind having a go at the squad.

     With a subtle nod from Erwin, the scout holding Levi down brings him back up. You look over to your squad. Isabel practically has smoke funelling from her ears, Furlan looks pissed, and Levi’s scowl is now soaking wet.

     Erwin kneels before Levi, knee in the puddle. “I’m Captain Erwin Smith of the scouts. And what’s your name?”

     “Levi.”

     “Levi. I’d like to offer you a deal.” Your shoulders begin to sear with pain.

     “What kind of deal?”

     “I’ll overlook your various crimes, and you’ll lend me yours and the crew's various strength and skill… As members of the scout regiment.” You watch as Levi pauses, sucking in a sharp breah,fiegning shock with the rest of you. Your eyes move to Erwin, wide with shock as well.

     “What if I refuse?”

     “We’ll give you to the MPs.” Erwin looks smug now, rising to stand. “You’ve been thorns in their sides for some time now. So, if you go that route, I doubt you or your comrades will receive decent treatment. The choice is yours. Pick a path.”

     Levi slowly lowers his gaze again, mouth falling in a straight line. “Alright, fine.” Your head whips to look at him, Isabel gasps. Levi spits water from his mouth, “If that’s how it is, then we’ll join the damn scouts.”

     Erwin smiles, nodding to the others. They begin to move, hauling you four to your feet. You’re shackles are released, and you resist the urge to sock the one who had been stepping on your chain. Without a word, Erwin begins to walk, and you get shoved forward, the other three following suit as they begin to walk beside you. The scouts form a row behind you, walking with a look of disgust cast your way.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I couldn't refrain from dropping another chapter. I've been writing every chance I've had since Sunday. Again, any feedback is appreciated. Let me know what you think.

Tag-list: @i-will-give-you-love

[robsterskellington]

I wrote a bit more. Continued from this:

(Basically, what would happen if Wei Wuxian woke up in the Burial Mounds after being thrown down by Wen Chao, but all of his memories from before then were intact- meaning from long after he and Lan Wangji got married)

It was strange, reclaiming the Lotus Pier with Lan Wangji at his side, but Wei Wuxian couldn't deny that he felt calmer for it. He didn't know what he was going to do about their feelings- Lan Wangji never had the guts to talk to him personally, and while he took Wei Wuxian's first kiss, it was only because he saw an opportunity while he was blindfolded. But the problem now was that if Wei Wuxian confessed now, it might be seen as insincere.

Hell, so much he could change would look strange; he'd try and be kinder towards Jin Zixuan, especially knowing now that he truly was his Shijie's one true love, he'd be more respectful of Jiang Cheng's duties and not shun him... but some things had already changed, and it made him unbelievably happy. Wen Ning had been so happy to see Wei Wuxian, and he couldn't resist hugging him- Wei Wuxian didn't want his Ghost General by his side, he wanted this man to live as good a life as possible.

Last time, the problem had been that not all of the Wens who survived the Sunshot Campaign were willing to discard their family name. This time was different- Wei Wuxian never hid the fact that he was protecting the Wens in Yiling and they heard him out, before ultimately agreeing that it was more beneficial to them to leave Qishan behind them, for their lives and futures weren't worth discarding. Thus, Wen Ning was now Jiang Ning, just as many others had changed their family name to match their new Clans.

Lan Wangji informed Wei Wuxian about A-yuan, and how he was now Lan Yuan, until they could come up with a good curtesy name. It took everything in Wei Wuxian to keep his mouth shut, for once.

They stepped into the main hall, and Wei Wuxian felt so much agony in his heart. Jiang Cheng looked at him and went to reach for him, but Wei Wuxian whispered, "Madam Yu was always right about me, wasn't she? Our Clan fell, she and Uncle Jiang died... and it was all my fault. I know that 'sorry' won't make up for all the lives lost, but I don't know what else to do or say to apologise or make amends."

"Mom said a lot of things, Wei Wuxian. And I never did enough to fight for you, so you don't need to apologise." Wei Wuxian gave him a funny look- Jiang Cheng *always* argued against Madam Yu when she punished Wei Wuxian, stating that it wasn't fair that he got beaten or scolded so frequently. He obviously couldn't take any punishment for Wei Wuxian, because he never did anything that warranted a punishment. Jiang Cheng sighed, "Just... you mentioned not being able to go down a normal path. Why not?"

"Way to change the subject," He chuckled weakly before indicating for Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji to sit with him. That was when he finally told the truth, himself: "I can't cultivate anymore. I don't have a Golden Core."

Both of them looked stunned as Wei Wuxian proved it, unsheathing Suibian and revealing that he couldn't use it with spiritual energy, it just wasn't possible. In a panic, Lan Wangji grabbed Wei Wuxian and tried to give him his own spiritual energy, only to see that there truly was no Golden Core to put it in. He started to tremble, and Wei Wuxian gently took his hand and held it. When Lan Wangji didn't pull away, Wei Wuxian gently squeezed it.

Jiang Cheng looked like he would throw up, but then blurted, "Baoshan Sanren! Can't we go to her, and tell her the truth?!"

"No. That was the biggest lie I've ever told you. Here's the truth: *I have no idea where Baoshan Sanren resides*. Even if I did, just because my mother was Cangse Sanren, there was no guarantees that she would help me." He looked down and took a shuddering breath, "The reason I was willing to trust Wen Qing before, was because she was a famous doctor who had a brilliant theory-"

"It's *Jiang* Qing, actually." The men looked up to see the aforementioned doctor, exhausted but grinning when she saw Wei Wuxian alive, wearing the purple robes of the Yunmeng Jiang Clan. "Though *do* keep flattering me, and after, you need food and some fucking sleep. You look dreadful."

"Wow, thanks a lot. Bitch." They both laughed, but Wei Wuxian knew he had to be completely serious. He looked at Jiang Cheng's horrified face and sighed, "Jiang Qing had theorised that someone could have their Golden Core removed and transferred into another person. When you lost yours, I knew what I had to do to secure your future."

Lan Wangji gasped softly and Jiang Cheng's eyes filled with tears, as Wei Wuxian moved his robes aside to reveal the scar and stitching on his abdomen. To prove the point further, he held out Suibian to Jiang Cheng, who unsheathed it and watched it radiate with a red aura. This was what Wei Wuxian had done, for him. And he still asked how he could possibly make up for everything? He'd already sacrificed his future, his powers, and he knew that people would fear him for using the dark arts. "...why..? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I couldn't risk you refusing." That was the final truth of the matter. Jiang Cheng knew that if Wei Wuxian had suggested it before, he absolutely wouldn't have accepted. How could something be so selfish yet selfless at the same time? He looked at the incision, and silently asked Wei Wuxian, who shook his head, "I don't want to talk about it. All I'll say is that I can't gain a Golden Core by traditional methods anymore. However..." he reached into his sleeve and pulled out a shining Golden Core.

Lan Wangji's eyes widened, "Wen Zhuliu's Golden Core. You stole it. Then..." they looked at Jiang Qing who took it and examined it, "Is it possible?"

"I'll have to test it to see. Like transferring organs or blood, some Golden Cores may not be compatible with certain people. It's unfortunately very complicated. It was lucky to have worked the first time, there was a less than fifty percent chance of it working." Jiang Qing missed how Jiang Cheng nearly passed out from that knowledge, knowing that one of his siblings nearly died so he could have the means to use spiritual energy.

Wei Wuxian kept hope in his heart. If this worked, the Golden Core would repell the resentful energy inside him, and he could go back to how it was before. If it failed, then he'd simply have to be more careful. He'd do whatever he could to benefit the cultivation world, just as he'd done before with his Spirit Lure Flags and knowledge of monsters. He just hoped that he didn't screw up as badly. Thinking about all the mistakes he'd made, even though not all were his fault, made him depressed beyond words.

Jiang Qing put the Golden Core to his chest, but it refused to go in- when they put Wei Wuxian's Golden Core into Jiang Cheng, it had immediately sank into his chest and settled, like it belonged there. Wen Zhuliu's Golden Core was just as stubborn as the man himself had been, and Jiang Qing shook her head solemnly, "I'm sorry, Wei Wuxian."

"Can't he take his back?" Wei Wuxian was about to tell Jiang Cheng to shut up, but he continued, "I'll find another way. This isn't fair on him, he's done more than enough for me and my family!"

"No. Golden Core's are incredibly strong, but even they feel strain. It probably wouldn't survive the strain of being torn out of a body again, especially when you would have to stay conscious the entire time it's removed." She put the Golden Core in a pouch and sighed, "Wei Wuxian stayed awake for nearly three days when we removed his."

"So... Wei Ying is stuck on this path?" Jiang Qing nodded to Lan Wangji, who didn't even know what to do or say. He'd hoped that if Wei Wuxian had come to Guzu with him, Lan Wangji could expell the resentful energy and guide him back to a normal path, then it could go back to how things should be. But there was nothing anyone in the world could do, now.

Wei Wuxian sighed then shrugged, "Fine, then." Lan Wangji flinched but Wei Wuxian crossed his arms, "If I'm stuck on this dark and narrow path, I'll find a way to stabilise it. I already know a lot of things I can use this power for, ways in which I can help people. So I will. Obviously I'll need help from time to time, and if there's any chance of me losing control of my temperament, then I definitely need you guys."

"As if you could get rid of us so easily, Wei Wuxian." Jiang Cheng finally smiled, albeit weakly. "This is your home. Will you still be going to Guzu on occasion once this is over?"

"If Lan Zhan wants me to." He turned to look at Lan Wangji and spoke softly, "I know I annoyed you in the past, and I understand if... if you hate me, but... please don't give up on me, Lan Zhan."

"...never." His voice had been so soft, that Wei Wuxian tilted his head, and Lan Wangji looked into his eyes, "I've never hated you. I will never give up on you. You're still *you*, even with this. I don't like that this path was chosen for you, because that's exactly what happened, isn't it?"

At last, everyone understood why Wei Wuxian was the only one to master Demonic Cultivation. A Golden Core rejects resentment, while someone who once cultivated would have a much stronger mind, body and soul; Wei Wuxian had the perfect form, but no Golden Core to protect him, making him the only one truly capable of harnessing this power. But he didn't choose it- he only accepted it when it was his only option, because dying should never have been in consideration.

Wei Wuxian smiled weakly and nodded, "Yeah. I even said before, after our first class together, that just being curious wasn't enough for me to want to throw away everything I'd worked for. I goofed off a lot, but I really did take everything I was taught seriously. I loved being able to use spiritual energy, to protect people, to use weapons at their full potential." He looked down, "Don't get me wrong, I find this path interesting, and power is always going to be addictive, but I didn't choose it."

Lan Wangji hated seeing Wei Wuxian upset, and spoke softly, "You're not alone. And we'll figure something out."

"That's enough of all that." They turned to see Jiang Yanli walk in, with a tray holding five bowls of soup, "I'm sorry for eavesdropping... I didn't know if I even had a right to say anything."

"It saves me from explaining things to you later, Shijie." Wei Wuxian had to stop himself from running into her arms, hugging her and crying. Instead, he took the soup she provided, and tilted his head at Lan Wangji's portion, "Is it a different colour?"

"I heard the Lan Clan aren't very good with spice, so I made sure not to add any. I didn't for yours either, Doctor Qing." Wei Wuxian grinned, loving how thoughtful she was.

Lan Wangji looked at the soup and sipped it, his face lighting up a little and he couldn't stop himself from smiling a little, "This is wonderful, thank you, Lady Jiang."

They all ate, none of them talking any more, just enjoying some comfort food in silence. Wei Wuxian felt like his very soul had healed, surrounded by the people who meant a lot to him. He'd asked about Jiang Ning, and Jiang Yanli assured him that she'd already given him some food, and that they could all take the time to rest.

This also gave time for Wei Wuxian to think about his next move. He'd already managed to do one thing differently: when Jin Zixuan had scolded Jiang Yanli during what had been dubbed 'the soup incident', instead of beating up the peacock, Wei Wuxian had pulled him aside and stated very bluntly that just because he felt nothing for Jiang Yanli, that didn't meant she felt nothing for him.

He'd been blunt and harsh with his words: "You only think you hate her because your marriage was *arranged*. If Madam Jin and Madam Yu hadn't decided before the two of you were even born that you'd get married, I'd bet my very soul that the two of you would have gotten along and maybe fallen in love on your own!" Jin Zixuan didn't know what to say, and he couldn't dispute his words. Wei Wuxian had remained calm and spoke softly, "Now you understand why Clan Leader Jiang and I were angry at you when we were kids. She adored you. Look, obviously I have no right to keep you away from her, but for now, both of you need some space. Besides, we have more pressing matters now, don't we?"

Jin Zixuan had indeed given Jiang Yanli some space, but it became obvious that it wasn't his choice- she wouldn't even glance his way anymore, and he realised just how badly he'd messed up. Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng were furious with him, but both of them focused on making her smile again, rather than focusing their anger on the asshole who made her cry.

Wei Wuxian snapped out of it when Lan Wangji looked at him with concern, but he just smiled. The smile quickly faded when he remembered what his next move was the last time- the creation of the Yin Tiger Tally. Knowing what it could lead to, he didn't want to create it, however it truly was the one weapon able to help them fight with a chance in the war. At least this time, he could ask someone else's opinion, "Lan Zhan. You remember that sword I found, back in the Xuanwu of Slaughter's cave?"

"Mn. It was a strange sword, you were holding onto it when we killed the monster. What of it?" He was curious, but a little worried about where this was going.

"It was full of resentful energy from those who died, eaten alive by the tortoise, but it also had the Sin of Murder within it. It's likely that if melted and reforged, it would make a very powerful spiritual weapon. It has more power than even I ever will, and that boost of strength could be just what we need for winning this war." The issue was how risky it would be. After all, literally anyone could use the Yin Tiger Tally, Jin Guangyao proved that before he died in the future- his brain hated using past tense to refer to a future event, but obviously that was what his life had come to.

It would absolutely give him the strength to win, but he also had to remember that no matter how skilled he was, it was impossible to control that amount of corpses alone. Even during the fall of Nightless City, Wei Wuxian had put everything into summoning zombies to just attack the Wens, but couldn't stop the zombies from also attacking their own men. It was counterproductive, and just senseless killing. Perhaps he could try and simply lay siege to Nightless City on his own, but if he was overwhelmed, he'd die again. That was if the people who wanted revenge wouldn't just come and attack anyway, getting in the way.

"*No*." He blinked and looked up at Lan Wangji, his expression stoney and stern, "Even with your powers, there's no guarantee that it wouldn't harm *you*. If there's no other way, then I'll help you. But please, consider this a last resort only." His expression softened a little when he saw a look of powerlessness in Wei Wuxian's eyes, "You're strong, Wei Ying. But you're not invincible, and I don't want you getting hurt again. Losing you once, it-"

He cut himself off, but he'd already been heard. His ears went red, and Wei Wuxian hid his smile. Obviously the in character thing to do right now would be to tease him for his slip up, but unfortunately, this mind of his had memories of tender moments and a heart filled with love for this person. So, Wei Wuxian instead took Lan Wangji's hands and looked into his beautiful golden eyes, "Okay. I trust your words, because you've already proven that you're just looking out for me. You won't lose me again, and I'll push that idea into the back of my mind. If there's no other choice, I'll create the weapon. If we can win without it, then that's that."

Lan Wangji found himself unable to pull away, or call Wei Wuxian shameless again. He just squeezed the hands in his, and looked into Wei Wuxian's cloudy grey eyes before stating sternly, "You need to sleep. You're exhausted. We have time to rest, you need to take it." He wasn't quite sure what came over him, but he grabbed Wei Wuxian, scooping him into his arms and looking at Jiang Cheng, "Bedroom?"

Jiang Cheng just stuttered the direction of Wei Wuxian's bedroom and watched Lan Wangji run off with his older brother in a bridal carry, "...what the fuck just happened?"

Jiang Qing smirked and Jiang Yanli tilted her head, "That explains why A-xian never spoke of any interest in any woman. Though I wonder why he never told us he was interested in Second Master Lan? Did he think we wouldn't accept him?"

They didn't actually do anything, which both relieved and disappointed Wei Wuxian- relieved because he didn't want to rush their relationship and risk ruining anything, but disappointed because he *never* got to be this close to his husband at this point in their lives. The Wen Clan had actually taken good care of the Lotus Pier, so his old bedroom was still intact and similar to how it had been before, thankfully. Lan Wangji laid him in bed, and just sat on the chair beside him, "Sleep. I'll watch over you, and wake you if anything happens."

Wei Wuxian *was* beyond exhausted. But he desired to be closer to Lan Wangji, it was just really difficult. They were still kids, in a way. He yawned, but couldn't settle. Lan Wangji could see that it wasn't on purpose, it was like Wei Wuxian's consciousness was stubbornly keeping him up, when Wei Wuxian himself just wanted a good night's sleep. He took Wangji from his back and slowly started to play the song he'd written, the song Wei Wuxian used to communicate that he was still alive in the Burial Mounds.

He played wangxian, humming slightly to his own melody, and watched as Wei Wuxian slowly stopped fidgeting, and finally relaxed, even letting out little snores. Lan Wangji stopped playing, and watched over him slightly, gently moving Wei Wuxian's hair out of his face, before whispering, "I honestly thought you would tell me that you aren't mine to lose. I'm glad you didn't, because that would have been wrong. I want to protect you, Wei Ying. Let me. *Please*."

There was no response, Wei Wuxian was too busy dreaming, and Lan Wangji just sighed with relief. Things would be okay, he'd make sure of it.

[siravalondulac]

iv. southern daughter

meet me in the dark, kiss me in the moonlight

asoiaf ff | jon snow x fem!oc

summary: jon is on top of the wall and luckily, he is not alone there word count: 1433 warnings: none

masterlist

previous | next

“It seems the gods do not permit we stay apart.”

Elle smiled as she walked towards Jon, though he couldn’t help but notice a slightly exasperated undertone to her voice.

It had been four days since he had last seen her. In that time, surprisingly, he had heard little talk about Elle. Whether that was because she didn’t let herself be seen or because no one truly cared about a woman staying at Castle Black, he couldn’t say.

“So it seems.” Jon played around with his gloves.

Ghost, who had been sitting besides him up until this point, jumped excitedly towards Elle.

“Hey there, Ghost.” She laughed as she bent down to pet him. Jon was sure that if the wolf hadn’t been mute, he would have barked in joy.

“He never greets me like that,” he said with a laugh.

“Perhaps there is just something about me he finds irresistible.”

He isn’t the only one, Jon thought.

Elle looked up again, her warm smile never once disappearing, even as her gaze got caught on his fidgeting hands for a moment. She cocked her head.

“Would you like to walk a few steps with me? It would keep us warmer than simply standing around.”

“Yes, I’d love to.”

Jon fell into step besides Elle, forcing his eyes to remain focused on the path ahead. Thankfully, the walkway was wide enough that they didn’t have to touch each other. Ghost trudged silently ahead of them.

"So,” Elle started, “what is a Stark like you doing at the Night's Watch? Was there no pretty noble girl waiting for you?" She soon sombered when she saw his expression.

"No, I- uh…" He cleared his throat, hesitating to say the words. Why did he now have troubles stating the information he had readily provided to anyone else? "I'm a bastard, I didn't- There was nothing waiting for me at Winterfell."

Painful seconds passed. Then Elle smiled again.

"What a surprise, I am a bastard as well! You are Eddard Stark's son, I assume?" He nodded. "My father is Oberyn Martell, brother to the prince of Dorne.”

“You’re from- Dorne?” Jon exclaimed in confused enthusiasm. He wondered why that possibility had never crossed his mind. But then again, Elle did not look particularly… Dornish.

(A small voice in his head tried telling him she was lying, only saying this to make him feel better about himself. But he disregarded that thought quickly. Because why would anyone lie about being a bastard?)

Elle nodded, her smile turning more sheepish. “Yes, I grew up in Sunspear with my sisters and cousins.”

Jon had trouble processing all the implications that came with this reveal, so he just started spouting some of the thoughts flying around inside his head.

“But, if you’re from Sunspear, what are you doing at the Wall?”

She chuckled. “I want to see the world. I have this dream that one day I will travel all the way to the top of the world; explore the Lands of Always Winter, mayhaps see an Ice Dragon for myself.” Elle smirked at that last part, apparently not taking it all that seriously herself.

"And your father just let you go?"

"He only wants what is best for his daughters."

Jon’s thoughts wandered to his own father. He supposed that, in this regard, the two men weren’t all that different.

“What about you?” Elle asked. “Did you have a special dream before deciding to come here?”

Jon didn’t want to answer that question. Of course he’s had dreams that didn’t include joining the Night’s Watch. But he didn’t want to admit to Elle right now that, when he was younger, he wanted to become Lord of Winterfell, effectively taking away his brother’s birthright. Jon would never admit that. So he lied.

“No, I didn’t. As a bastard I never felt I was allowed to dream of things above my station.”

Elle smiled sadly. "I am sorry to hear that. I sometimes forget that the other kingdoms have a different attitude towards people like us."

People like us. It felt unbelievable that the one thing Jon always hated about himself was the exact thing that now connected him to Elle.

Ghost started walking in between them, leading to Jon having to put more distance between himself and Elle. He had never been this grateful for having his wolf.

“If I remember correctly, you mentioned that you have brothers?”

When had he told her that?

“Uh, yes. Half-brothers technically, three of them, and two half-sisters.”

“What are they called?”

“Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon. Though Bran’s name is actually Brandon, we all just call him Bran.”

“Their mother is a Tully, if I remember correctly?”

Jon had a lot of complicated feelings about Lady Catelyn, and a couple of unresolved issues with her. But he didn’t want to subject Elle to all of that - she probably didn’t even care about it - and so he kept his answer as short as possible so as to not ramble endlessly.

“You do.”

They walked in silence for a while. An icy breeze disturbed the snow resting on the walls around them and blew it towards Jon. He shuddered and drew his cloak closer around him. If he didn’t distract his mind in some way, he would go insane up here.

“So,” Jon started, unsure as to what to actually talk about, “what is your family like?”

“My family?” Elle chuckled. Jon threw a quick glance her way. She stared into the sky with pursed lips, before looking towards him and then at the path ahead again. He quickly followed her example.

“What is your father like?” Jon offered. “I don’t know all that much about Prince Oberyn, I’m afraid.”

“My father is… How do I best describe him? He is very fiery; enthusiastic about a lot of things. He always told us stories of his travels, of the adventures he experienced. He even studied at the Citadel for some time, until he got bored of it.” Jon looked at her, bewildered. Elle chuckled when she noticed his expression. “His words, not mine."

"He sounds like a great man," Jon said.

Elle looked at the ground, her smile turning smaller, more melancholic. "He is. He truly is." She took a deep breath, then looked at him. "What about your father? Lord Stark must be quite extraordinary, too."

"Aye, I guess so."

Elle raised her brow. "That's all?" She laughed. "I would have expected a bit more.”

Jon's cheeks turned pink.

"I mean…" He was grasping for words, desperately trying to find ways to describe his father. "Lord Stark was always kind to me, even when his wife wasn't. He is honourable, very much so."

He had once overheard someone say he took more after his father than his siblings did, though no one would have said those things in the presence of Lady Stark. 

"He didn't have to take me in and raise me as his own, but he did. And for that I am forever grateful."

"And your mother?"

What a happy conversation this has turned into.

"I never met her." Jon hesitated. "I don't even know her name."

"Did your father never speak of her?"

"No, never." He looked over to Elle. "Do you know your mother?"

"I have distant memories of her. She raised me until I was seven, before my father took me in. I don't remember much, but I do remember that she loved me."

They stopped at one of the outlooks. Elle's gaze rested on the mountains in the distance. Jon watched her.

"Sometimes I wonder how she is doing," she said.

"Sometimes, I wonder the same," he replied.

They stood there, in comfortable silence, for who knew how long. Jon's gaze wandered across Elle's body (only to get a better feeling of who she was). When she turned towards him, his cheeks flushed pink.

She smiled. “I should probably head back. But I enjoyed talking to you, so thank you.”

“Nothing to thank,” he answered with a slight cough.

Elle bent down to ruffle Ghost’s fur again, before she moved away from the edge of the Wall and walked towards the lift.

Jon shook his head, suddenly remembering something he had been wondering for a few days.

“Where do you stay? In Castle Black, I mean, where are your quarters?” He stumbled over his words. “If you feel comfortable telling me,” he quickly added.

She looked back at him with a smile. “King's Tower, right at the very top.”

Then Elle turned back around and disappeared into the night.

previous | next

[blackjackkent]

OK, let's finish out the rest of this Harding companion quest!

We left off having entered one of the settlements of Kal-Sharok, guided by a fellow named Stalgard, who has informed us that a mysterious "she" is waiting for Harding to tell her about her mysterious stone powers. We also did some clearing out of some blight infestations, and encountered a mysterious figure running around that we couldn't get a good glimpse of.

( @nihalias informed me that it is possible to see the mysterious figure watching us during those blight-clearing segments; I went back and took a hard look around and couldn't spot them, but that's a fun easter egg to know about. :D I gather we will learn more specifically about them later.)

With those bits of blight cleared, we're entering a new area of the deep roads, called "Lyrium Sanctum", which is quite pretty:

"Mind yourself," Stalgard growls. "And show respect when you enter the sanctum."

"Yes, of course," Harding says, a trifle nervously. "But... who are we meeting?"

Stalgard shrugs. "I will let her speak for herself. But we of Kal-Sharok revere her deeply for being one with the Stone. They say she was once from Orzammar, but she speaks very little of her past."

(A/N: I know it can't possibly be the case because I would have seen someone talking about it by now, but my heart is holding onto a desperate hope that it's somehow Shale that we're going to meet. :P )

-----

Deeper into the 'sanctum'. The wide columns of lyrium crystal line the walls, glowing with subtle light... and humming.

"There was blight everywhere outside of those doors," Harding mumbles. "But here... it's clean. This person I'm going to see-- I think she's keeping the blight away, somehow." A pause, and then she draws a sharp breath, staring around in wonder. "The song... do you hear it? Coming from all around us..."

"It must be the lyrium," Bellara puts in. "But I've never heard it sound so... full..."

"It feels like it's echoing through my entire being..." Harding whispers.

Helena shifts her weight uncomfortable from one leg to the other. "Like I'm part of the song..." she mumurs.

"Exactly..." Harding says dreamily. "And it's calling us home..."

Helena doesn't like that one bit. This isn't her home, this underground cavern full of rock and blight. Her home is in Minrathous, aboveground where she can see the sky. Whatever the lyrium might want from her - it's not going to get it.

-----

As we wander on through this lyrium sanctum area, Harding abruptly comments, "I would love to look around more. Do you think Stalgard would mind?"

Helena then says, "I think he'd be fine with it," which is hilarious, because Stalgard doesn't really seem like he's been fine with basically anything ever in his life.

I suspect this dialogue was the result of some playtesting that indicated that no one ever noticed there's a small corridor up above this area where we can go and get some mats and a few lore documents:

Stalgard also mentioned some things about people 'changing' in order to fight the darkspawn. This really does sound a lot like the golems in Shale's personal quest in DAO. But that very much was Orzammar, so who knows.

Back on the main path to our mysterious hostess; the cavern is continuing to get more and more grand, and the humming from the lyrium louder:

Another note on a bench as we pass by:

Finally we reach a wide platform at the end of the corridor, and a long stairway leading up to a glowing central chamber.

"We have arrived," Stalgard says, low, reverent.

"But I don't see anyone," Harding says uncertainly.

Stalgard points ahead of them as they crest the stairs, towards the enormous stone statue flanked by crystal and rock on all sides. The humming resonance of the lyrium grows stronger still, making something inside Helena's head ache.

"There," the Kal-Sharok dwarf says softly. "She is waiting."

Helena takes a step forward - and as she does, the statue's eyes glow with sudden blue-white, piercing light, and a voice, a true voice, joins the overlapping harmonies of the crystal song.

"Thank you for leading her here, Stalgard," the statue says, in a voice both placid and powerful. "They call me... the Oracle."

A violent prickle of unease crawls up the back of Helena's neck. "This is how scary stories start, Harding," she says under her breath, resting one hand on her dagger, only marginally reassured by the hilt's solidity in her palm. What use is a dagger against stone?

Harding shakes her head. "It's all right," she says firmly. A pause, as she tilts her head very far back to look up at those huge, glowing eyes. "I think," she adds ruefully.

As Helena watches, she steps forward and spreads her hands in a peaceful, questioning gesture.

"I... I know you, don't I?" she asks.

The Oracle hums like the crystal, as if in thought. "Once, I was Valta," it intones. "As you were Lace, then Scout, and now... something else."

(A/N: Yo, what?!

I guess I could have guessed that in retrospect but eyyyy. Last we saw of her she was very much a living fleshy dwarf, so a little unclear on what has happened to her in the interim. She doesn't seem unhappy at the moment but it's hard to tell.)

Harding's eyes widen in subtle recognition. "All this... is this what I am?" she asks slowly. "Am I like you?"

"I cannot tell you what you are," the statue - Valta - answers placidly. "Look within, and remember. Remember when the earth was alive, and the Titans walked the land. In one voice they sang, a chorus of creation and of connection."

"Isatunoll," Harding whispers. "The song."

That prickle at the back of Helena's neck gets harder to ignore. Titans? Harding seems to be about twenty steps ahead of her in this conversation, and she's barely keeping up.

"When the Titans fell," Valta says, "we awoke. But the melody was already lost."

"The dwarves..." Harding says pensively.

"We were always just shattered fragments of a greater whole," Valta rumbles.

Harding's fists clench at her sides and her expression tightens with concentration. "The Stone sense... my magic... it's Titan magic," she says in sudden realization - and confusion. "But why? Why did it happen?"

Beneath Helena's feet, the ground begins suddenly to rumble and vibrate, rocking upwards. She looks around with alarm. Earthquake? If this cavern shakes apart, they'll be buried beneath thousands of tons of rock before they can blink.

Harding doesn't even seem to notice; all her attention is focused on Valta, on that unblinking blue-white glow. "Why do I remember isatunoll?" she demands of the statue. "What happened to the Titans?!"

Helena glances over her shoulder. The source of the rumbling comes into view - one of the great stone statues of dwarven figures, many times life-size, is shuddering into motion, its greathammer dragging a horrible scraping noise on the floor.

"There is something else here," whispers the Oracle. "It's found you."

And then its eyes go dark as the stone beast behind them attacks.

[theflyindutchwoman]

What is your opinion in Lucy being UC? Because for me it doesn't make sense. She has literally been in like 3 documentaries. I feel like that is too much exposure for her.

And there is the whole Tim issue. I don't think Tim will ever be truly okay with her being a UC.

I think i would rather her just be a detective.

Personally… I'm relatively divided on the whole UC storyline, documentaries aside. I can't say that this is the path I imagined Lucy taking, as it seems rather antithetical to who she is and what she wants. At the same time, I do like seeing her undercover, playing different characters, getting more and more confident... There's one aspect in particular that I love : it's how covert ops taps into her background. Being a former psych major helps her create these different personae and adapt to the situation at hand. But more than that : she can draw on her life experience to guide her. She has tried different things before joining the Academy and that gave her a wealth of knowledge that she can use to her advantage. Psychology alone isn't enough for her, she needs the action, the danger… Undercover work gives her the opportunity to combine both aspects.

That said, I'm curious to see how this type of work could affect her. Being isolated, constantly being on edge, not seeing her loved ones for long period at times, leaving people behind, living a lie… It can get too much, real fast, especially for someone as empathetic as her. So far, she hasn't really seen that ugly side of the work, the one we've heard so much about… I think this is something she needs to experience so she can make an informed decision. But even if she decides that being a UC isn't for her after all, she can still work in covert ops. There is more to it than just being undercover. Or she could indeed just be a detective. At the end of the day, she is beginning her career, it's normal that she is still figuring it out. She deserves that chance. And that's why I want her to make the final decision on her own terms, whether she stays on track for undercover work or change path. So as nonsensical as it might be to send her undercover after the documentaries, I'm at least glad that this isn't used as a random reason against her, to prevent her from going forward with her career (at least, for now).

As far as the documentaries go… I actually already discussed this, so I hope you don't mind if I basically repeat what I wrote. At this point, I think we should simply take these documentaries for what they are : an opportunity for the writers to develop ridiculous plots and have fun, even though they don't make much sense… The last one was so over the top that I loved it - but I can understand that it's a bit hard to suspend your disbelief here… especially regarding the UC arc. I didn't mind Lucy being in them at first - or Nyla for that matter. Not to stereotype here, but I'm not sure the criminals she goes after watch these type of documentaries. And even if they were, they would still have to remember her specifically. I mean, only one person in-universe has ever referenced these episodes… and that lady was a director herself, who didn't apparently recognised Lucy (5.06). That last one, on the other hand… Let's just say that outing her as an undercover cop was definitely a choice… When the promo aired, I thought for sure that this issue was going to be addressed. I even wondered if I had missed a conversation or something after watching the episode. I guess, we're just supposed to pretend that it doesn't matter since not one single person raised the issue of Lucy being in the spotlight when she should be in the shadows. Then again, the LAPD doesn't see a problem with advertising a whole conference about covert operations… So we clearly have a very different definition of secrecy. That said, maybe this will come back later and someone will recognise her. That's always a possibility - though it would seriously make the whole department look incompetent for not considering that ahead of time…

I also touched on the whole Tim issue in another ask, so here's what I wrote. Tim absolutely knew about all of this and still decided that it was worth the risk. He was aware of her choice of career long before he even realised his feelings for her. From the moment she graduated, he's been nothing but supportive towards her goal. He was the one to convince her to go to the UC Academy. He asked her out mere days/weeks after she last went under (seriously, that was the episode right before). Undercover work is even the reason why they got together in the first place… which is so ironic when you think about it. When he said they were worth taking the risk, he meant it. Just like when he told Isabel that Lucy was different, I have no doubt he also meant it. He has some experience in the matter, he has some inklings as to what being separated for months truly means. And let's not forget that he knows what's it like not to be supported… Ashley was trying to make him quit his job because she suddenly wasn't okay with it - I can't see him doing the same to Lucy. I believe that Tim's biggest challenge will be to express his feelings, since he tends to internalise them. That's why I'm glad that he and Lucy were able to set boundaries and open up about this. They can only make it work if they're both honest and communicate with each other.

And last but not least, your last point about preferring Lucy to just be a detective. That's perfectly fair - and I know you're not the only one feeling this way. For what it's worth, even if she were to stay in covert ops, odds are she would mostly work as a detective (provided that she passes the exam, of course, and she doesn't get blocked). I seriously doubt the writers will create a different persona for every episode - it would get old fast - or let her spend too many episodes undercover… It's a procedural after all. I'm a bit unsure as to where the writers are going here… But The Rookie was first and foremost a show about patrol. That was what distinguished it from other cop shows. So far, we already have Nyla and Angela as detectives… Having Lucy doing UC might simply be a way for them to keep things fresh and avoid having three regular detectives.

I hope this answers your questions :) (I also hope you won't mind the copy-paste of previous answers but since the asks were pretty similar, it was faster this way - this isn't a knock against you at all. It's also a good reminder that I need to up my tagging game).

[tapperhet-em]

10

And....the gang's all here...but how did the arrival of the last three go? We know that Lo and Meeri are a little nervous, and possibly trigger happy...

Lorcan had just shut the door to the cabin after returning when he heard tires on the path outside.  He put Melba on silent guard and had Meeri go into one of the side rooms to hide.  Whoever came through the door would be facing him first.  He was just glad that his timing had been perfect to get him back to the cabin before they had arrived, having Meeri face whoever it was alone was his least favorite option.  Even if she had a bead on him when he’d showed up, he still preferred being there when anyone else showed up.  He knew the stakes.

Outside the cabin, Elio pulled his SUV to a stop and everyone inside surveyed their surroundings.  The cabin looked abandoned, the leaves on the front porch didn’t even look disturbed from anyone going in.  They’d circled the cabin and the back looked the same.  If they truly were inside, then they had covered their tracks so well that the three trained soldiers in the SUV couldn’t even pick up the slightest hint of them being there. The alternative was that they had been captured, causing the texts that Einar and Tieran earlier to have been false, and that the three of them were getting ready to walk into a trap.  No one had to say it, but they were all hoping it was the first option and that they needed to up their ability to detect signs of life and tracking game.

Elio killed the interior lights to the SUV, so they wouldn’t come on when they got out, and they all left their doors open as they exited the vehicle.  If it wasn’t Lorcan and Meeri inside, this would help to mask how many of them there were, and also to make it faster to get back in. The last thing they wanted to do was block their only way out.  As much as they wanted it to be their friends inside, they all three knew that it might not be.

When they stepped up onto the porch, Tieran checked the hiding spot for the key to the front door and found it empty.  He gave a silent signal to the other two to let them know this.  The key missing at least gave him a little hope that it was their friends inside.  It was not an obvious hiding spot, and there was no reason they would have given that information to anyone that would have stopped them.  The only way that it was not them inside was if they’d been found after they’d reached the cabin, which did not seem likely.

Elio was the one to try the door and found the handle unlocked.  The two behind them drew their sidearms and took positions on either side of the door should things go south.   Cracking the door, he called in before any of them moved. “Yo, Lo?  If you’re in there, we’d really appreciate NOT getting shot tonight.  It’s been a long day, and extracting bullets in the dark is not my idea of a good time.”  He felt like he was holding his breath as he waited for any kind of response from inside the cabin.  Bad or good, this was when they would find out for certain.

“Yeah, well, I have a feeling M would be the one doing the extracting, you three suck at it.” Lorcan’s voice came from the blackness inside before a candle flared to life on the other side of the living room barely giving off enough light for them all to see.  “You’re worse at giving stitches, or I’d let Melba bite ya just for shits and grins.”  He joked as he flipped the safety back into place on his rifle and set it aside for the moment.  

“Between the two, I think I’d rather be shot, Lo.”  Einar shook his head as he holstered his pistol and stepped through the door behind Elio who was now inside.  “At least it’s one puncture and done.  I’ve seen her during practice.  You're beautiful when you're vicious! Right girl?”  He crouched down to rub Melba’s head, who was all too happy with the attention of one of her people. Einar’s grey eyes were trained solely on the dark haired female leaning against the door frame to one of the bedrooms though.  It wasn’t until she appeared that he felt he could truly breathe again.

“Should I be jealous of Melba?”  Meeri let out a stuttered breath, her nerves finally calming as she stepped away from the door frame and into the room.  They all five had made it safe and it reassured her some that they were at least going to make it through the night without anyone getting hurt.

“Awe, come on, don’t be like that.  You know we love you a lot more, we just don't want to get smacked for petting you.”  Tieran laughed, pulling her into a hug.  He had been like Einar, not fully feeling like he could breathe or his heart beat till he knew she was alright.  Breathing her scent in deep, he could feel himself relax as she hugged him back.  “We’re just going to have to teach you to shoot better, so that you’re as lethal as she is.”  The mock punch to his gut made him huff then laugh.  “Okay, I deserved that.”

“Damn right you did.  I’m just glad Melba didn’t bark when I returned from hiding the Jeep.  I had a little red dot in the middle of my chest.”  Lorcan joked and winked at Meeri.  He had been proud that she’d been ready to shoot if she’d needed to, but eternally grateful that she trusted Melba and didn’t.  

“Hey, no shooting the friendlies!” Elio laughed trying to imagine Lorcan’s face with that happening.  “I promise, we’re not all as big of assholes as Tieran.”  Now it was his turn to pull Meeri into a hug. He’d seen the death glare on Einar’s face towards their other friend and decided to cut that.  There would need to be a talk later between all of them.

“He deserves it after that trip out to the Jeep!”  Meeri stuck her tongue out at Lorcan who rolled his eyes at her.  

“I’m never going to live that down.  Save her life, keep her out of their hands, and a few insults damn me for life.  I’m wounded, sis, WOUNDED!” Lorcan grasped his chest and feigned being shot.  “I don’t know if I’ll ever recover.”

“I’m sure we can find you a blonde, eventually, that will help you.”  The look that Meeri got back from Lorcan had her dissolving in laughter against Elio.  

“Can you control your woman?  Do you hear this shit, bro?”  Lorcan looked over at Einar who was laughing too. It was good to see his friends laugh, after what they’d all been through that day, and the worry that had filled them all since they’d heard of the coup.

“DO NOT bring me into this.  I have nothing to do with it.” Einar held up his hands looking between them and trying not to fall over from laughing so hard and Melba wanting more pets.  “Damn, you two!”

The laughter was something they all needed.  It broke the tension and allowed them to relax for a few moments and enjoy the fact that they had all made it alive.  The teasing continued a bit longer, then the exhaustion of the day once more began to set in for all of them.  The SUV still needed to be unpacked and all of the gear brought in, then deciding where they were all going to sleep and division of duties.  They were military men, aside from Meeri, and were already looking at keeping hidden and discovering who had betrayed Meeri’s family as a covert operation.  

“Okay, enough of all this.”  Lorcan tried to reign in his own amusement.  “Elio, Tieran, why don’t you two show me what we need to unload outside.  Einar, join us in a min, bro.”  He winked over at Meeri, then clapped Einar on the shoulder as he headed past.  He was as subtle as a bulldozer, but no one argued with him.  They rarely did.

[yourbestpalpercy]

Another day in this stupid place…another day in these bright laboratories.

All of her other plans of sneaking out peacefully hadn’t worked. Using the vents, using portals, scaring them with her mere presence? Nothing. ‘But I don’t want to hurt anyone. I need to keep trying peacefully. A single burn and I could end up terminated. …’ The Blaze sat in the middle of her cell, thinking. The walls were charred with ruined plans and doodles.

She had been in these labs since she was born. Her awful mother gave her up for SCIENCE! She was 16 now…

Not many places left to write new ideas. If any at all.

‘I used my wings to get up into higher places to write…burned my back but nothing…’

The Blaze lifted her head. The door was still closed shut. The vents were latched and melted shut. The cameras weren’t on…but The Blaze couldn’t shake the feeling…

That she wasn’t alone in this cell.

Quickly, The Blaze stood up; her hands shot into flames as she whispered, “who’s there…? It’s late. I can feel you.”

The Blaze watched the walls, looking for any trace that something didn’t belong. “..I know you’re there, it’s no use pretending to be the walls…or ceiling.”

“So you’re The Blaze, hm? Colder than I had expected…” A chilling voice echoed back. The words on the wall began to distort and…turn into long, black, strings. “I’ve seen so much of you…I’ve actually been watching over you for a long time~! Centuries actually.” The voice danced around The Blaze, making her think twice about the world around her. “Who are you? Stop being a coward and show yourself!” The Blaze pulled out her wings, watching the bright orange reflect off the walls, floors and ceiling.

“You’re so tense…all you need to know is that I’m a friend. A friendly face among these parts…”

“A friend, huh? Well, I don’t trust your voice. You’re just as untrustworthy as-!” A few strings suddenly grabbed her wrists; threw her into the air and let her drop. The voice roared with laughter. “I’m only here to guide you, 820…there’s no need to fear me!” The walls crackled with static, quickly dropping The Blaze into a black abyss before she hit the ground. The seas swallowed her rather quickly, pushing water in. Drowning. She was drowning-! Argh…no way she would drown at the hands of a coward!

The Blaze kicked to the surface and took a deep breath. Thunder rolled all around her in a dark, breaking storm. The waves of the sea whipped and threw her about, smothering any flames she tried to use. “Pardon, I should’ve known my pocket dimension was unfit for a FIRE user!” The voice crackled like the lightning around her. The labs came back, leaving The Blaze coughing and gasping for air on the ground. She laid on her side, curling her arms around her stomach.

“HA! You look like a soggy, wet cat right now! Oh, and I never did say my name, hm? It’s Draven. Though, I go by many names…Draven, Leviathan, Puppeteer of the Shadows! Dancer of the Dark…The Tear…”

The Tear.

The Blaze knew that name but from where…from where?

“I’ve had plenty of tales told about me…have you heard the story of The Shadow in Brackenwood?”

There.

The Shadow in Brackenwood…!

It was a folklore story the scientists often told the subjects here, something to keep them entertained. Her friend was terrified of the story. A dragon that could torment you in your dreams and hurt you in the real world? …No thanks.

“Then I know for sure that you cannot be trusted. You hurt any who falls into your claws.”

“It’s a deal, actually, I help them and I give them a price! I see all possibilities, Blaze. Every. Single. One. I merely guide them onto the correct path…the best path if you will!”

“You also hoard a ton of information so it seems like the best path..”

“Hm…you know your facts better than I believed so…” A string grabbed The Blaze’s wrist and spun her around. “Don’t worry, child. You’re in great talons. I’ll lead you to freedom. I promise I will. There’s only one pathway I see where you’ll escape and me meeting you is step one in the right direction. Think of it! Soft grass, the smell of rain, endless sun forever!” As The Tear talked about these things, with a blink, The Blaze had been brought to a world as The Tear had described. The Blaze was still rather tense, her wings blew back into flames.

“Calm your nerves! You’re waaaay too tense, kid! This is what freedom is like and it’ll be perfect! I know you’re starving for freedom!”

The Blaze rolled her eyes and curled up, trying to ignore her deep breaths, enjoying the cold, fresh air of the outside world. Couldn’t give The Tear proof that she wanted out.

“Are you trying to hide your deep breaths? I know you want out. You’re not good at hiding it…”

“...Is…this what it’s actually like out there? Quiet? Away from the screams and tools?” The Blaze curled tighter.

“It IS! It’s a world of light! B-But the good kind, of course…”

“Faces other than the scientists! Faces other than the tragic faced, bumbling idiots of this lab!”

“...I guess freedom would be nice…new, meaningful faces…!”

“Then we begin planning tonight, Blaze.”

The Blaze was thrown back into the sea, a bubble rapidly forming around her so she would be safe from the seas. “Welcome to my sea home, Blaze. It’s nice to meet you so clearly now…” Strings as black as the waters around her swirled around, forming a body in the dark. A very, very large body. Like a powerful leviathan emerging to wreak havoc once more. Its entire body looked adapted to the underwater world.

His black scales blended into the surrounding dark seas, he had a few scales that glowed slightly in the abyss though. He had webs in his talons and down his back. His eyes were pitch black to where, if he didn’t have bioluminescent scales around his eyes, it was impossible to see where his eyes started and his scales ended. His wings looked like two large pieces of cloth at his sides like a large, dark cape.

“And…you’re THE Tear…”

“Just as much as you’re THE Blaze!” The Tear laughed, cupping the bubble and drumming his sharp talons on it. The Blaze felt so tiny compared to the leviathan. Would she even be as big as one of his scales? “By the way, you can just call me Draven. One god to another.”

One god to-...?

“I-I’m not a god. I can shoot fire, yes, but have you never seen what it does to me??” The Blaze felt the fire run to her fingertips. The pain shot up through her arm as the fire trickled and burned at her flesh. 2nd…quickly entering 3rd. Her skin charred rapidly before The Blaze fell to her hands and knees, the flames going out. “I’ve tried wearing gloves, I’ve tried tiny flames, I’ve tried so much…it burns my skin, I’m shocked I haven’t combusted yet!”

The Tear hummed. “I have an idea, Blaze,” He gained a smile, revealing his sharp teeth. “How about this? I’ll numb your pain. Bring me blood and all this pain of your fire will be over. I’m thinking…hmm,” The Blaze flinched slightly. Blood? He wanted blood for the numbing of The Blaze’s pain…?

“I..I’m not sure I can give blood, Draven. I don’t want to be terminated. You…do know what it means to be…?”

“You fear termination. Let me guess, the fear of death plagues your mind?” The Blaze only nodded. “I don’t want to die, Draven…but I don’t want to shed blood.”

“You’re scared of hurting others. That’s understandable. You’re not the first,” A string tapped the bridge of The Blaze’s nose, squeezing it as he pulled her face up to stare at him. “So many times have I done this dance. Offered my services for a little blood and yet, they always turn me down. There’s nothing to fear, Blaze. I promise you. With my power, they won’t lay a scratch on you. And if they do? You certainly won’t feel or be affected by it.”

“I just need some bloodshed to make it possible…”

Morning,

Draven sent The Blaze back to the labs at the crack of dawn, making sure it seemed she never left. The Blaze thought of his offer throughout all of the morning, through all of the morning rituals. She felt exhausted by the end of it all though. Not even watching TV with the other subjects cheered her up. …Still thinking…

Afternoon.

More tests. More things to burn and blow up. More needles full of only god knows…more awful grins and malicious jokes…! So, so, so many more tears falling from her face. Losing chances to live. More tests to fight. Like a gameshow of life or death. More people pricking and stealing blood to learn. The blood she needed to soon collect. …Still thinking…

Sunset.

Exhausted. Burning pain throughout her whole body. Her hands had scarred, torn and ripped skin. Bits of blood ran down her hands. Her back burned. She had used her wings way too much today. Did she finally come to a decision? She needed to. She needed out of this hell!

The second she saw the lights of the cameras shut off, she fell to her knees and folded her hands. “Draven…! Dancer of the Dark- The Puppeteer! What ever I have to call you to gain your attention. H-Heed my call!” The words caught in her throat as she noticed the uneasy feeling she had felt just last night. “…I accept your deal,” She continued, standing up and releasing her hands, “I’ll exchange blood for freedom. Blood for the pain to be gone. Blood for anything! I’ll give you as much as you need! I just need a weapon to draw it…” The Blaze allowed the blood streaming from her injuries to coat the floor under her hands.

“I was counting the hours, Blaze. Good to see you’ve awakened…” Strings dropped from the ceiling in the shape of a powerful sword. “Use your fire, you’ll hide it in seconds. Use it…draw the blood of those who hurt you. Draw the blood of the ones who have drawn yours for the last time. A child who does not feel the warmth of the village will burn it down as an adult to feel its heat…”

“Or, perhaps, a GOD in your case!” The Tear laughed.

“Will I really emerge outside this place…as a god?”

“That’s what my visions are saying…”

The Blaze reached her hand forward and held it against the strings. A sharp yell broke out the second The Blaze lit her hand up to use the sword.

“HEY! WAIT FOR MY STRINGS TO BE OFF OF IT!!!” The Tear yelled, roughly shaking The Blaze by her shoulders. The Blaze instinctively swung out her arm, burning those strings too. “Impatient pri-! …I can’t get angry at you, you were following my exact instructions! I’m impressed, there’s often a lot of miscommunication. And you stuck up for yourself against me! And I could EASILY overpower you!”

“Your ‘God’ act breaks quickly under pain. Now I have to ask, why are you helping something that could so easily hurt you?”

“No one should be suffering this awful treatment. I’ll help the other subjects soon…”

“We strike at dawn, Blaze. Speaking of, do you not have any other names?”

The Blaze only answered with a headshake, “Not that I remember any…though, there’s one name I’ve always thought was nice, maybe Winter?”

“Winter! A name that’s the complete opposite of you! Oh the irony…” His voice trailed away as the strings left.

The Blaze waited throughout the night restlessly, waiting for the second those doors opened. ‘I still don’t want to hurt them! I tried mercy…I tried peace…they didn’t listen. I’ll make them pay…but we don’t need to! C-Can’t we just intimidate them? THEY brought this on themselves! It’s time for revenge at last…’

The Blaze watched the cameras, practicing her swordsmanship while she waited. The sword flowed and cut through the air with ease. It was light and looked sharp, like it could do damage. Serious damage. She stabbed the sword into the ground roughly. The sword took no damage at all!

The Tear said she could hide the sword using her fire, let’s see here…

She spun the blade and lit her hands up. The blade disappeared rather quickly, allowing her to hide the blade easily. It didn’t even hurt this time. Either her nerves had been burnt away at this point, or The Tear kept his promise with what blood he had. “...I promise you, Draven, Puppeteer of Madness, I’ll bring you the blood you desire…” The Blaze whispered into her scarred hands.

The camera finally turned on. It was time now.

The door opened.

Flames burst from the room.

Alarms blared near instantly in The Blaze’s ears as she held a guard to the wall. They didn’t even get a moment to shout for help before his head rolled to the ground and his body dropped. The Blaze turned to his companion and raised the blade towards them. The guard stepped back and tried to use his baton.

Not even a second later, his screams faded away. The bright, blazing fire all around caused the sprinklers to go off and more alarms to blare. By now, it didn’t matter. Nothing would save these poor souls. Nothing would extinguish these flames.

Another guard. Another head to roll.

The Blaze flew down the hallway, pressing her wings into another who was pinned at the torso by her blade. Once severely charred, she raised her blade through them. She could feel The Tear’s excitement as red coated the walls and her face.

Everywhere she went, fire followed not far behind. The white walls were bathed in red and orange. Not a thing the blade touched lived for long. The Blaze swung her powerful blade every chance she got. 2…3…6…9…

13…23…

The number kept rising with each hallway cleared and each life taken. The fire around The Blaze burnt at her skin but she couldn’t care less. They had the chance to peacefully release her and let her run. This was all their fault.

Don’t stop until they’ve all paid…

Ignore your morals.

Slaughter them, my little flame…

And so she did.

The Blaze wouldn’t stop until she felt it was done.

‘Shouldn’t we release them? Please. They don’t deserve suffocation!’

The Blaze smothered this idea under more fire in her mind.

Don’t let anyone stop you.

The Blaze rushed at a poor scientist and sunk her blade into their chest. Her wings and hands burned but didn’t hurt. All she felt was light warmth on her skin. It was getting hard to breathe.

‘Please! Help them! Save them!’ More fire burned at these thoughts.

The Blaze shot through hallways. Not enough. Not enough.

Screams echoed all around her, seeping into her skin.

Sins crawled along her with each life burnt like spiders across her skin.

34…

45…

56…

63…

The number only grew higher and higher.

Then it was over. Just like that. Like with a snap awakening her from a trance.

The cold air flowed forward from the trees and fed the flames behind her.

Screams faded. Flames faded. Fresh air. At…last?

…

“My mind is still racing. …Why can’t I remember…?” The Blaze lifted her scarred face to the world. Staring at the trees, she cried, “P-Puppeteer o-of Madness! Dancer of the Dark!” The Blaze searched for that cold feeling to come over her. “Heed my call! …Did I do it? What have you given me?”

…

No response.

“The Tear between Worlds! Guider of the Ruined! The One from The Shadows!” She kept going, pleading for that chill. “..Please, Draven…heed…heed my call…” She folded her hands. “Please…don’t…abandon me…” Burning tears dripped down her cheeks, ruining the grass below. She brought her folded hands over her eyes.

“Lords, what have I done…”

“I feel the flames on my back…”

“I feel sins at my fingertips.”

“The blood will never dry, will it…?”

Her voice echoed into the night, pleading and pleading for guidance. For help.

“...I’m sorry…”

I paid the price that day. I paid with my death. …Now I wander these worlds, forever searching for guidance…

[vidyadawn]

closed starter for @celesticlnstcrs

Dan Heng did not expect to return to the Xianzhou Luofu so soon - but he would be lying if he said he doesn't feel a spark of delight about it. His feelings about his former home have changed in many ways, though he's far from facing it without concern. The memories of his imprisonment and the loneliness and torment it brought are his constant companion, not unlike the shadow Dan Feng casts on his life, and no matter how warmly he might be welcomed now, or in the future, that fact will remain. But there are things to look forward to now, good memories to be made and hope to be had.

The Vidyadhara may remain divided about the former High Elder but Dan Heng intends to stay as far away from those politics as he can. What he seeks to connect to, if possible, is the every day life on the Luofu, its people - both his kind and the natives, and all the things he would have experienced if he'd been allowed to grow up freely. And to.. new friends, such as the General. Despite their complicated history and the conflict he instills in Dan Heng, he has been nothing but kind to him and so it shouldn't be too surprising that Dan Heng finds himself wishing for their paths to cross again.

He's taken a squad to Fyxestroll Garden, the area is still unsafe, they're informed by one of the guards at the gate to the Seat of the Divine Foresight when asking for an audience with Jing Yuan. They're given an estimate of when he might return and while March and the others decide to go for a stroll around the market Dan Heng chooses to wait in one of the nearby pavilions, making use of the time and quiet to sort his thoughts.

Luckily, it's not too long before the General returns, his soldiers in tow. The armors of some of them look like they've seen better days but Dan Heng can't tell if what he's seeing are signs of past battles or recent ones. It fills him with concern regardless as he recalls their fight against Phantylia not having been all that long ago, and the injury he caused to Jing Yuan in their effort to defeat her. "General--" he says loud enough to be heard but not wanting to shout across the street. He thinks to notice a limp in Jing Yuan's step but he might be imagining things in his worry.

With a few steps he catches up with him. "My companions and I arrived just an hour ago - we were told you're fighting off heliobi. --Are you alright? You look exhausted. Should I.. accompany you to Miss Bailu?"

[drkarenhawk]

 Dr. Karen Hawk’s Advice on Navigating Life After Trauma

Trauma can take many forms—whether it’s the loss of a loved one, an abusive relationship, a life-threatening accident, or an overwhelming personal crisis. Regardless of the type, trauma leaves a lasting imprint on an individual’s emotional, mental, and physical well-being. While the road to healing can be long and challenging, recovery is possible with the right tools, guidance, and support. Karen Hawk Gilbert, a psychologist based in Gilbert, is committed to helping individuals navigate life after trauma. Through her compassionate, trauma-informed approach, Dr. Hawk offers strategies and advice to empower clients to heal, regain their strength, and find a renewed sense of hope and purpose.

Understanding Trauma: Dr. Karen Hawk’s Compassionate Approach

Trauma is a deeply personal experience that affects everyone differently. Dr. Karen Hawk’s first piece of advice for those navigating life after trauma is to understand that there is no “right” way to respond to traumatic events. Each person’s journey is unique, and the impact of trauma can vary based on individual circumstances, past experiences, and coping mechanisms. It’s important to acknowledge that feelings of confusion, sadness, anger, or numbness are valid and part of the healing process.

Dr. Hawk emphasizes that trauma doesn’t define who you are, but how you respond to it can shape your path to recovery. Trauma can be isolating, but it’s essential for individuals to remember that seeking support is a sign of strength, not weakness. By recognizing that trauma is a natural response to distressing events, Dr. Hawk helps clients release feelings of guilt or shame, creating a safe environment to process their experiences and begin the healing journey.

Building Emotional Resilience: Dr. Karen Hawk’s Focus on Strengths

One of the cornerstones of Dr. Karen Hawk’s approach to trauma recovery is building emotional resilience. Resilience is the ability to adapt, recover, and grow stronger in the face of adversity. Dr. Hawk teaches clients that resilience is not about ignoring pain or pretending everything is fine; it’s about learning to navigate difficult emotions and move forward in a healthier way. Trauma recovery involves facing pain, acknowledging it, and ultimately using that experience to build inner strength.

Dr. Hawk works with individuals to identify their existing strengths, coping skills, and sources of support. Whether it’s personal qualities like determination, creativity, or empathy, or external resources such as supportive relationships or hobbies, Dr. Hawk emphasizes the importance of drawing on these assets during recovery. By focusing on what has helped clients survive and thrive in the past, Dr. Hawk helps them develop a foundation for emotional resilience that will serve them throughout their recovery process.

Healing Through Connection: Dr. Karen Hawk’s Emphasis on Support Systems

No one should face trauma alone. Dr Karen Hawk Psychologist Gilbert stresses the importance of building and maintaining strong support systems as part of the healing process. Trauma often leaves individuals feeling isolated or disconnected from others. However, reaching out for help is essential to recovery. Whether it’s family, friends, a therapist, or a support group, having people who understand and validate your experiences is crucial for emotional healing.

Dr. Hawk works with clients to create a support network tailored to their needs. This could include encouraging them to talk to trusted loved ones about their experiences, or helping them find groups or communities where they can connect with others who have faced similar challenges. Dr. Hawk’s approach helps clients understand that it’s okay to rely on others during their recovery, and that doing so doesn’t make them weak—it makes them human. By fostering genuine connections, individuals can feel seen, heard, and supported as they rebuild their lives after trauma.

Developing Coping Skills: Dr. Karen Hawk’s Tools for Managing Emotional Pain

Coping with the emotional pain of trauma can be overwhelming, but Karen Hawk Gilbert offers several strategies to help clients manage their emotions and reduce distress. Through techniques such as mindfulness, grounding exercises, and deep breathing, Dr. Hawk empowers clients to regain control over their emotions and their responses to triggers.

Mindfulness, for example, is an effective way to reduce the intensity of traumatic memories and the emotional distress they may cause. Dr. Hawk teaches clients how to stay present in the moment and create space between themselves and their emotions, so they’re not overwhelmed by feelings of fear, anger, or sadness. This approach helps clients detach from the overwhelming aspects of trauma and engage in their recovery process with more clarity and calmness.

In addition to mindfulness, Dr. Hawk teaches clients how to recognize and challenge negative thought patterns that often accompany trauma. Trauma can lead to feelings of shame, self-blame, or hopelessness, but by identifying and reframing these thoughts, individuals can begin to shift their perspective and reclaim their sense of agency.

Addressing Trauma Triggers: Dr. Karen Hawk’s Focus on Grounding Techniques

Trauma triggers can be one of the most challenging aspects of the recovery process. A trigger is something that causes a person to relive a traumatic event, whether it’s a sound, a place, a situation, or even a particular scent. Dr Karen Hawk Psychologist Gilbert helps clients identify their personal triggers and teaches them grounding techniques to help manage the emotional and physical reactions that can arise in response to these triggers.

Grounding techniques can be as simple as focusing on the five senses—what you can see, hear, smell, taste, and touch—or using visualization exercises to reorient yourself in the present moment. Dr. Hawk helps clients develop a toolkit of coping strategies that can be used when they encounter triggers, so they feel more equipped to handle them. These techniques help individuals regain a sense of control over their reactions and reduce the likelihood of being overwhelmed by traumatic memories.

Rebuilding Identity: Dr. Karen Hawk’s Guidance on Finding Purpose After Trauma

Trauma can sometimes leave individuals questioning their identity, sense of self, or purpose in life. After experiencing something deeply painful, it’s common for people to feel disconnected from who they were before the trauma. Dr. Karen Hawk’s guidance centers on helping clients reconnect with themselves and rebuild their sense of purpose.

Dr. Hawk helps individuals reflect on their values, passions, and goals to rediscover what matters most to them. Whether it’s focusing on personal growth, reconnecting with hobbies, or creating new life goals, Dr. Hawk encourages clients to take small steps toward rebuilding their life after trauma. She believes that through this process, individuals can create a new narrative for themselves, one that includes their healing journey as part of their story, rather than letting trauma define them.

Developing Patience: Dr. Karen Hawk’s Perspective on the Healing Timeline

Healing from trauma is rarely a quick or linear process. Karen Hawk Gilbert encourages clients to be patient with themselves, understanding that recovery takes time. There will be setbacks, and progress may not always be immediately visible. However, Dr. Hawk reassures clients that the healing process is a gradual journey, and every step forward—no matter how small—is a victory.

By emphasizing self-compassion and patience, Dr. Hawk helps clients avoid feelings of frustration or self-criticism, which can often accompany the slow process of trauma recovery. She encourages individuals to celebrate their progress, no matter how minor it may seem, and to remember that healing is a process, not a destination.

Conclusion: Dr. Karen Hawk’s Commitment to Empowering Trauma Survivors

Dr. Karen Hawk’s approach to navigating life after trauma is rooted in compassion, patience, and empowerment. By offering personalized strategies for coping with emotional pain, building resilience, creating strong support systems, and addressing trauma triggers, Dr. Hawk helps clients reclaim control of their lives and move toward a future filled with hope. If you are struggling to navigate life after trauma, Dr. Karen Hawk’s expertise and support in Gilbert are here to guide you every step of the way. With the right guidance, healing from trauma is not only possible—it’s a journey that can lead to profound personal growth and a renewed sense of strength.