#dawn just can't offer her the support she needs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

simpforfandom231 · 3 months

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i don't forget too well PT3

Warnig: Self-harm, depression, sad feelings. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day dawned with a promise of a new beginning. Renée and Y/N decided to venture into the city for a day of shopping—a simple escape from the routine, an opportunity to embrace the present moment.

As they strolled through the bustling streets, the energy of the city enveloped them. Renée, ever attuned to Y/N's needs, noticed the spark of restlessness in her girlfriend's eyes. The city's sensory overload had begun to trigger Y/N's ADHD, manifesting in heightened energy and difficulty focusing.

"Hey, cutie," Renée said, gently grasping Y/N's hand. "How about we take a break and grab a coffee?"

Y/N nodded appreciatively, and they found a cozy café to pause and regroup. The warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the soothing ambiance provided a welcomed respite for Y/N.

However, the tranquility was short-lived as they decided to resume their shopping. Renée, being a recognizable figure, attracted attention from fans along the way. While many interactions were positive, one encounter took an unexpected turn.

As Renée and Y/N browsed through a trendy boutique, a fan approached them with excitement. "Renée! Oh my gosh, I'm a huge fan! Can I get a picture?" the fan gushed.

Renée, gracious as always, agreed, posing for a photo. However, the energy from the encounter sparked a surge in Y/N's ADHD. The heightened emotions, combined with the sensory stimuli of the busy store, turned Y/N's restlessness into overexcitement.

Feeling the spike in Y/N's energy, Renée tried to navigate the situation. "Hey, cutie, let's take it easy, okay?" she whispered, squeezing Y/N's hand.

But just as they attempted to blend into the background and continue shopping, another fan approached, a disapproving frown on her face. "Renée, seriously? You're dating someone with ADHD?" she remarked, her tone laced with judgment.

Y/N, already struggling with the overstimulation, caught the negative vibes. The comment felt like a stab, and the familiar waves of self-doubt began to crash over her.

Renée, maintaining her composure, responded calmly, "Yes, I am. And I love her for who she is. ADHD is a part of her, and it doesn't define her worth or our relationship."

The fan rolled her eyes dismissively. "Well, I think you could do better. Someone without all these issues."

Y/N's heart sank, the words cutting deep. Renée, however, stood her ground, refusing to let the negativity tarnish their day. "We all have our challenges, but that doesn't make us any less deserving of love and happiness. If you can't accept that, I'm sorry."

As the fan huffed away, Renée turned to Y/N with a reassuring smile. "You okay, cutie?"

Y/N nodded, her eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and vulnerability. "Yeah, just a lot to take in."

Renée gently cupped Y/N's face. "You are perfect just as you are. Don't let anyone make you feel otherwise."

With renewed determination, they continued their shopping excursion, navigating the city streets and encountering a mix of positive and challenging moments. Throughout it all, Renée remained a pillar of support for Y/N, offering comfort and reassurance.

The day that had begun with the promise of a simple shopping excursion took an unexpected turn. As Renée and Y/N returned home, the energy that had fueled their adventures in the city shifted into an undercurrent of tension. The unspoken struggles from the encounter with the judgmental fan lingered, waiting to manifest in the silence of their shared space.

Renée, sensing the weight in the air, decided to address the underlying tension. "Cutie, is everything okay?" she asked, her tone gentle, yet probing.

Y/N, still reeling from the emotional rollercoaster of the day, couldn't find the right words to express the turmoil within. Frustration, anger, and a lingering sense of hurt simmered beneath the surface.

"It's just... that fan today," Y/N began, her voice tinged with bitterness. "I can't believe someone could be so judgmental. And it hurts."

Renée sighed, recognizing the need for open communication. "I know, cutie. It was tough, but we can't let someone like that affect us. We're stronger than that."

But the unresolved emotions from the encounter were a powder keg waiting to explode. Y/N, unable to regulate the rising anger, lashed out impulsively. "Maybe it wouldn't be so tough if I didn't have ADHD. Maybe you wouldn't have to deal with all this judgment if you were with someone 'normal.'"

The words hung in the air, a momentary silence following the verbal strike. Renée, caught off guard by the hurtful remark, felt the sting of the words like a sudden slap.

"Y/N, that's not fair," Renée retorted, her voice carrying a mix of hurt and frustration. "You know I don't see you that way. ADHD doesn't define you, and it doesn't change how I feel about you."

But the damage was done. The heated exchange had unearthed unspoken fears and insecurities, turning the atmosphere from tension into a tempest of emotions. Y/N, feeling the weight of the words she couldn't take back, retorted with a defensive edge.

"Maybe it should, Renée! Maybe you deserve someone who doesn't come with all this baggage, someone who doesn't make your life more complicated!"

Renée, usually composed, felt the eruption of emotions within her. The hurtful words struck a chord, awakening emotions she had kept at bay. "Don't you dare say that, Y/N. I love you, every part of you. But I won't accept you pushing me away because of your own insecurities."

The argument escalated, each word a sharp point of contention. The apartment, once a haven, became a battlefield of emotions. Y/N, overwhelmed by frustration and a sense of inadequacy, continued to vent her anger.

The fight reached its peak, with both Renée and Y/N standing on the precipice of their breaking points. The words exchanged were like daggers, leaving wounds that transcended the argument itself. Renée, feeling the weight of the emotional turmoil, exploded in a burst of frustration.

"Maybe you're right, Y/N. Maybe I do deserve better. Someone who doesn't throw everything back in my face when they're upset. Someone who can communicate without resorting to hurtful words."

Y/N, realizing the gravity of the situation, felt a pang of regret for the words that had been said. The silence that followed was heavy with the weight of the emotional fallout.

As the echoes of the fight reverberated through the apartment, Renée and Y/N stood at a crossroads. The love that had once been a source of strength now felt strained by the wounds inflicted in the heat of the argument.

The apartment, once filled with the echoes of their heated argument, now rested in a heavy silence. The emotional storm that had brewed between Renée and Y/N left behind a landscape of hurt feelings and unspoken regret. Renée, usually the pillar of strength, felt the weight of guilt settle on her shoulders.

"I didn't mean to say that, Y/N," Renée finally spoke, her voice carrying a mix of guilt and regret. "I know I shouldn't have exploded like that. I'm sorry."

Y/N, still wrestling with the emotional fallout, looked away for a moment before meeting Renée's gaze. The pain in her eyes was evident, a reflection of the internal turmoil that had been stirred.

"Maybe you're right, Renée," Y/N replied, her voice soft but firm. "Maybe I'm not the right person for you. Maybe you do deserve someone who won't lash out in anger and say things they can't take back."

Renée's heart sank at the words, the gravity of the situation hitting her like a wave. The guilt deepened as she saw the hurt in Y/N's eyes, an unintended consequence of their argument.

"Cutie, no, that's not what I meant," Renée pleaded, taking a step closer. "I love you, and I don't want anyone else. I just... I messed up, and I shouldn't have let my frustration get the better of me."

Y/N, still processing the intensity of their exchange, couldn't shake off the lingering sense of inadequacy. "Maybe I'm just too much, Renée. Maybe you deserve someone who's not a constant emotional rollercoaster."

Renée cupped Y/N's face gently, her thumb brushing away a stray tear. "You're not too much, Y/N. You're perfect for me. I just... I lost control, and I said things I didn't mean. I'm so sorry."

Y/N looked into Renée's eyes, the conflict within her apparent. "But what if I can't change, Renée? What if I'm always going to be like this, struggling with my emotions and pushing you away?"

Renée sighed, recognizing the depth of Y/N's insecurities. "We all have our struggles, cutie. I don't want you to change. I just want us to find better ways to communicate and navigate through the tough moments together."

The vulnerability between them hung in the air, a shared acknowledgment of the challenges they faced individually and as a couple. Y/N, torn between the desire to believe in their love and the fear of being a burden, took a moment to collect her thoughts.

"I want to be better for you, Renée," Y/N admitted, her voice laced with determination. "I don't want to hurt you like this. But I'm scared that I can't change."

Renée embraced Y/N, holding her close as if shielding her from the weight of the world. "We'll figure it out together, cutie. I don't have all the answers either, but I know we can't let one argument define us."

As they stood in the quiet aftermath of their fight, the apartment became a sanctuary for shared vulnerability. The love that had been tested now faced the challenge of rebuilding trust and understanding.

The next morning dawned with a quiet tension that lingered in the apartment. Renée, gearing up for a series of morning interviews, noticed the subdued atmosphere but attributed it to the aftermath of their argument. Y/N, however, was grappling with the weight of her insecurities, a silent struggle that threatened to consume her.

As Renée prepared to leave, she approached Y/N, who was sitting on the couch, a distant look in her eyes. "I'll be back in a few hours, cutie. Try to take it easy, okay?" Renée urged, concern etched on her face.

Y/N managed a small nod, but the internal storm raged on. The morning interviews had become an unexpected battleground for their emotions.

Left alone in the apartment, Y/N's insecurities took hold. The echoes of the argument, combined with the judgmental encounter from the day before, had carved a deep trench of doubt within her. The overwhelming sense of inadequacy swallowed her, drowning out the voice of reason.

As minutes turned into an hour, Y/N found herself spiraling into a dark place. The silence in the apartment became suffocating, and the emotional turmoil surged to the forefront. Y/N's attempts to quell the storm within were futile, and a torrent of tears streamed down her face.

She sat on the bathroom floor, the cool tiles beneath her offering a temporary escape from the chaos in her mind. Y/N gazed into the mirror, her own reflection a distorted image of pain and vulnerability. The desire for relief, for an escape from the relentless thoughts that haunted her, became overwhelming.

In a moment of desperation, Y/N's trembling hands reached for a razor blade. The sharp edge, a temporary relief from the internal storm, became an outlet for the pain that felt insurmountable. Deep cuts marked the silent battle, each one a desperate attempt to gain control over the chaos within.

Meanwhile, Renée, caught up in the hustle of interviews, realized she had forgotten her phone. A sense of urgency propelled her back to the apartment. Little did she know, the homecoming would unveil a scene of profound distress.

As Renée rushed in, the apartment seemed unnaturally quiet. A sense of foreboding settled in her chest. The bathroom door, slightly ajar, revealed a scene that would haunt Renée.

The sight of Y/N, huddled on the floor with blood-stained hands, sent shockwaves through Renée. Time seemed to freeze as she took in the gravity of the situation. Panic and fear gripped her heart, eclipsing any rational thought.

"Y/N!" Renée's voice trembled as she rushed to Y/N's side, her hands shaking as she assessed the wounds. "What... what happened?"

Y/N, tears streaming down her face, couldn't find the words to explain the depth of her pain. The regret and desperation mingled, creating a haunting silence in the wake of the unfolding tragedy.

Renée, her mind racing, dialed for emergency help. The weight of the moment bore heavily on her as she attempted to provide some form of comfort to Y/N while waiting for assistance.

"I'm so sorry, cutie," Renée whispered, her voice breaking. "I should have been here. I should have seen..."

The distant wail of ambulance sirens grew louder, signaling the arrival of the emergency responders. As the red and white lights flashed outside the apartment, Renée's heart raced, a pulsating drumbeat of fear echoing through the room.

The paramedics burst into the apartment, their faces masked by a mix of urgency and professionalism. Renée, her eyes wide with panic, gestured towards the bathroom where Y/N sat, a silent figure amidst the turmoil.

"Over here, please help her," Renée pleaded, her voice quivering with a blend of fear and guilt.

The paramedics, well-trained in navigating through moments of crisis, rushed to Y/N's side. They took in the scene—the blood-stained hands, the raw wounds, the vacant stare—and began their assessment.

"Can you tell us your name?" one paramedic asked gently, crouching down to Y/N's eye level.

Y/N, her gaze distant and numb, took a moment to register the question. "Y/N," she whispered, the word barely audible.

The paramedics exchanged glances, silently communicating the gravity of the situation. Renée hovered nearby, her eyes never leaving Y/N, her hands shaking as she struggled to hold onto composure.

"What happened, Y/N?" another paramedic inquired, his tone a mix of concern and clinical detachment.

Y/N hesitated, the words caught in her throat. Renée, sensing her partner's struggle, stepped forward. "I... I came back, and I found her like this. I don't know why. I don't know what happened."

The paramedics, accustomed to the unpredictable nature of emergencies, continued their assessment. They examined the wounds, asked Y/N about any medications or pre-existing conditions, and took note of the emotional state of both Y/N and Renée.

As the questions unfolded, Renée grappled with a whirlwind of emotions. Guilt gnawed at her, the weight of responsibility pressing down on her shoulders. The apartment, once a haven, now felt like a battleground where the consequences of their struggles manifested in raw, painful clarity.

One paramedic turned to Renée, offering a reassuring but stern gaze. "We're taking her to the hospital for further evaluation and treatment. Are you coming with us?"

Renée nodded, her voice hoarse as she replied, "Yes, of course. I need to be with her."

The paramedics worked swiftly, stabilizing Y/N and carefully guiding her onto the stretcher. As they wheeled her towards the ambulance, Y/N's vacant gaze met Renée's, a silent plea for understanding and support.

Renée climbed into the ambulance, her heart heavy with the realization that their journey had taken an unexpected and painful turn. The doors closed behind them, shutting out the outside world as they sped towards the hospital.

Inside the ambulance, the paramedics continued their assessment, monitoring Y/N's vital signs and administering gentle reassurances. Renée, seated beside Y/N, held her hand, the touch a fragile lifeline connecting them in the midst of the turmoil.

The journey to the hospital felt like an eternity, each passing moment fraught with uncertainty and the unspoken question of what lay ahead. The sirens wailed through the city, a mournful soundtrack to the shared struggle of two souls entangled in a complex dance of love, pain, and the profound need for understanding.

The ambulance screeched to a halt at the entrance of the hospital's emergency department. The doors swung open, revealing a team of medical professionals ready to take over Y/N's care. Renée, her eyes red from a mixture of tears and anxiety, clung to the hope that the hospital staff could help Y/N find the support and healing she needed.

As they transferred Y/N onto a hospital bed, Renée felt a wave of helplessness. The sterile hospital surroundings contrasted sharply with the emotional turbulence that had brought them here. Medical professionals swarmed around Y/N, their focus on assessing the extent of the injuries and determining the appropriate course of action.

Renée stood by, a silent observer to the medical ballet unfolding in front of her. She felt the weight of the morning's events bearing down on her, the guilt and fear intertwining like a vine around her heart. The medical staff exchanged information efficiently, and the hospital room became a temporary sanctuary—a place where the complexities of mental health were met with clinical expertise.

In a moment of realization, Renée fumbled for her phone. She needed support, someone to lean on in this moment of vulnerability. A name flashed in her mind—Ayla, her close friend who had been a pillar of strength in times of need.

As she dialed Ayla's number, Renée's hands trembled. The phone rang, each passing second an eternity as the hospital room seemed to close in around her.

"Renée? What's going on?" Ayla's voice, a familiar anchor, resonated through the phone.

Renée's voice cracked as she tried to articulate the tumult of emotions. "Ayla, it's Y/N. We're at the hospital. I found her... I found her like this, and I don't know what to do."

Ayla, sensing the urgency in Renée's tone, reassured her. "Take a deep breath, Renée. What happened? Is Y/N okay?"

Renée recounted the events of the morning—the argument, the discovery, the ambulance ride. Each word was a weight lifted, an attempt to share the burden of the situation.

"I'm so scared, Ayla. I don't know how this happened. I thought we could get through anything together," Renée admitted, her voice raw with vulnerability.

Ayla, the epitome of calm and compassion, responded, "Renée, you're doing the right thing by seeking help. Y/N needs professional care, and you're there for her. Take it one step at a time."

Renée nodded, even though Ayla couldn't see her. The support from a friend, even over the phone, provided a semblance of strength in a moment of crisis.

"I need you to be strong, Renée. For Y/N and for yourself. Lean on the medical professionals, and don't hesitate to ask for help. I'm here for you, and we'll get through this together," Ayla reassured.

As Renée hung up the phone, she took a moment to collect herself. The hospital room, once a place of uncertainty, became a stage for resilience. Y/N, now under the care of medical professionals, was on a path towards healing.

The hospital staff finished their initial assessments, leaving Renée alone in the room with Y/N. The sterile hospital air felt heavy, charged with the weight of the emotions that hung in the atmosphere. Y/N lay on the hospital bed, a mere physical presence. The vibrant energy that had once defined her seemed to have retreated, leaving behind an empty vessel—a shell of the person Renée knew.

Renée approached Y/N cautiously, her heart aching at the sight before her. Y/N's eyes, usually vibrant with life, were now vacant, like windows to a soul that had momentarily checked out. The marks on Y/N's arms, a visual testament to the struggles within, told a story of pain and desperation.

"Cutie, it's me. Renée," Renée whispered, her voice carrying a blend of concern and a plea for connection.

Y/N's gaze remained fixed on an indeterminate point in the room, unresponsive to the familiar voice that sought to pierce through the numbness. Renée felt a lump in her throat, a silent acknowledgment of the vast emotional distance that seemed to have emerged between them.

Renée pulled a chair closer to the hospital bed and took a seat, her eyes never leaving Y/N's face. "I'm here for you, Y/N. We're going to get through this together, okay?"

Silence filled the room, broken only by the distant hum of hospital machinery. Renée reached out, gently taking Y/N's hand in hers. The physical touch was a lifeline, a tangible connection in the midst of the emotional abyss.

The door to the room creaked open, and a nurse entered, carrying a small tray with a cup of water and some medication. "I need you to take these, Y/N," the nurse said, her tone gentle yet firm.

Y/N's gaze remained unfocused, and Renée felt a pang of helplessness. The nurse, experienced in navigating the delicate dance of mental health care, administered the medication with a practiced ease.

As the nurse left the room, Renée continued to sit by Y/N's side, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. She wondered how they had arrived at this point, where the person she loved seemed so distant and unreachable.

The hospital room became a crucible of emotions—a space where the complexities of mental health collided with the resilience of love. Renée knew that the journey ahead was uncertain, fraught with challenges that extended beyond the hospital walls.

"We're going to take this one step at a time, Y/N," Renée whispered, her voice an echo in the quiet room. "I love you, and I'm not giving up on us."

The hours passed in a haze of anxiety and anticipation. The hospital staff conducted further assessments, discussing treatment plans and therapy options. Renée, determined to be an active participant in Y/N's recovery, listened attentively, absorbing the information like a sponge.

As nightfall painted the sky outside the hospital window, Renée found herself grappling with a mix of exhaustion and a steadfast resolve. She had made calls to notify friends and family about Y/N's situation, choosing transparency over the looming specter of media speculation.

The room became a cocoon of vulnerability, a place where the complexities of mental health were acknowledged and addressed. Y/N, though physically present, remained enveloped in an emotional fog—a puzzle that Renée was determined to help unravel.

As the night wore on, Renée settled into the uncomfortable hospital chair, her gaze never wavering from Y/N's face. She whispered words of love and reassurance, hoping that the connection they shared could bridge the gap created by the internal struggles.

In the quiet of the hospital room, Renée grappled with the profound realization that love, though a powerful force, couldn't shield them from the challenges of mental health. The road ahead, marked by therapy sessions, emotional healing, and the delicate process of rebuilding trust, seemed daunting.

The hospital room was shrouded in the stillness of the night, broken only by the muted hum of medical equipment and the occasional distant footsteps echoing through the corridor. Renée, slouched in the uncomfortable chair beside Y/N's bed, felt the weight of exhaustion settling into every fiber of her being. The hours spent navigating the intricacies of the hospital, coupled with the emotional turmoil, had taken a toll on her.

In the midst of the night, a soft knock on the door interrupted the quietude. A nurse, her presence a beacon of professionalism in the dimly lit room, entered with a tray of fresh bandages and medical supplies. The nurse, recognizing Renée from the world beyond the hospital walls, offered a compassionate smile.

"Renée Rapp, right?" the nurse inquired, glancing at the exhausted figure by Y/N's side.

Renée nodded, grateful for the quiet acknowledgment. "Yes, that's me. How is she doing?"

The nurse began the delicate task of refreshing the bandages on Y/N's arms, her hands moving with a practiced gentleness. As she worked, she spoke in a hushed tone, mindful of the delicate nature of the conversation.

"Y/N is going through a lot right now. Self-harm can be a way for some individuals to cope with overwhelming emotions. It's not about seeking attention, but rather a desperate attempt to regain control when everything else seems chaotic," the nurse explained, her eyes conveying a mix of empathy and understanding.

Renée listened, absorbing the insights with a heavy heart. The realization that Y/N had been wrestling with internal demons, hidden behind a façade of normalcy, sent a pang of guilt through Renée. She wondered if there were signs she had missed, moments when she could have reached out more, or if this had been an internal struggle Y/N had kept hidden.

The nurse continued, "It's not uncommon for individuals to enter a state of dissociation or numbness after such events. The mind, overwhelmed by emotional pain, can retreat into a protective shell as a way to cope."

Renée's eyes remained fixed on Y/N, her heart aching at the vulnerability exposed by the nurse's words. She wished she could erase the pain etched on Y/N's face and offer solace in the face of the internal storm.

"Is there anything I can do for her?" Renée asked, her voice laced with a mix of desperation and determination.

The nurse finished tending to Y/N's wounds, carefully securing the fresh bandages. She met Renée's gaze, her eyes reflecting a depth of understanding born from years of witnessing the complex tapestry of human suffering.

"Be there for her. Encourage her to seek professional help, and don't underestimate the power of love and understanding. Mental health is a journey, and recovery takes time," the nurse advised, her words carrying a weight of wisdom.

Renée nodded, a silent promise forming in her heart. She would stand by Y/N, supporting her through the twists and turns of the recovery journey. The nurse, sensing the unspoken resolve, offered a reassuring smile before quietly exiting the room, leaving Renée alone with her thoughts.

The night continued its silent march, the hospital room becoming a sanctuary where vulnerability met resilience. Renée, though physically fatigued, found a wellspring of determination within her—a determination to be the pillar of support Y/N needed in the face of the daunting road ahead.

As the hospital room embraced the shadows of the night, Renée settled back into the chair, her eyes never leaving Y/N's face. She whispered words of love into the quiet, a silent promise to navigate the complexities of mental health together and emerge on the other side with a renewed understanding of the strength that could be found in vulnerability and love.

As the first rays of dawn painted the sky with hues of soft pink and orange, the hospital room began to stir with a new day. Renée, having spent the night in vigilance by Y/N's side, felt the weariness in her bones. The night had been a marathon of emotions, and the morning light brought with it a subtle sense of hope—a hope that they could navigate the challenges ahead together.

Y/N lay on the hospital bed, still in a state of quiet detachment. The events of the previous day, marked by emotional turmoil and the revelation of Y/N's struggles, lingered in the air like an unspoken truth. Renée, her eyes heavy with fatigue, gazed at Y/N with a mix of concern and unwavering determination.

The hospital staff, attuned to the rhythm of their morning routine, entered the room to conduct assessments and provide updates. The events of the previous night had prompted discussions about therapy options and a more comprehensive treatment plan.

A doctor, a beacon of expertise in the sea of uncertainty, approached Renée with a measured warmth. "Ms. Rapp, we've scheduled a meeting with our psychiatric team to discuss Y/N's treatment plan. It's important for us to understand her needs and formulate a comprehensive approach to her mental health."

Renée nodded, appreciating the proactive stance of the medical team. She knew that the road to recovery would require a collaborative effort, and the support of mental health professionals would be instrumental in guiding them through the journey.

As the doctor left the room, Renée turned her attention back to Y/N. The morning light cast a gentle glow on Y/N's face, highlighting the vulnerability etched on features that had once radiated with life. Renée reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from Y/N's forehead.

"Hey, cutie," Renée whispered, her voice a soft murmur in the quiet room. "We're going to get through this, okay? You're not alone."

The door creaked open, and a nurse entered with a tray of breakfast. "Good morning. We've prepared a light meal for Y/N. It's important for her to regain strength," the nurse explained, placing the tray on the bedside table.

Renée nodded gratefully, her eyes shifting between the breakfast tray and Y/N's still form. The nurse left the room, leaving Renée alone with the weight of responsibility and the promise of a new day.

She encouraged Y/N to eat, knowing that nourishment was a crucial aspect of the recovery process. Despite the gentle prodding, Y/N remained unresponsive, lost in the internal labyrinth of her thoughts.

The hospital room, once a temporary haven for the wounded, became a backdrop for a delicate dance between fragility and resilience. Renée, grappling with the aftermath of the previous day's revelations, felt a renewed sense of purpose—a determination to stand by Y/N's side and usher in a chapter of healing and understanding.

As the morning unfolded, mental health professionals visited the room, engaging in discussions about Y/N's history, triggers, and potential therapeutic approaches. Renée, though emotionally drained, participated actively in the conversations, eager to contribute to Y/N's path towards recovery.

The discussions delved into the multifaceted nature of mental health, addressing the nuances of Y/N's struggles and exploring avenues for support. Renée, typically guarded about her private life, found herself opening up to the professionals—a testament to the depth of her commitment to Y/N's well-being.

The morning, marked by consultations and assessments, transitioned into the afternoon. Renée, having not left Y/N's side, found solace in the knowledge that they were taking tangible steps towards understanding and addressing the challenges they faced.

In the quiet moments between consultations, Renée sat by Y/N's side, her fingers gently tracing patterns on the back of Y/N's hand. She whispered words of encouragement, expressions of love that transcended the boundaries of spoken language.

As the day unfolded, Y/N remained in a state of quiet detachment, her gaze fixed on the world beyond the hospital window. The morning sunlight spilled into the room, casting a warm glow that painted the walls with a subtle reassurance. Renée, sitting by Y/N's side, couldn't shake the worry that lingered in her heart.

"Hey, babes," Renée spoke softly, using one of their affectionate pet names. She reached out, gently squeezing Y/N's hand, hoping to anchor her in the present moment. "How are you feeling?"

Y/N's eyes, though open, seemed to be windows to a distant realm. The weight of the events that had transpired seemed to have pulled her into a space where the present and the past blended into a surreal landscape.

"Y/N, I called your mom. She couldn't make it, you know, with the distance and everything," Renée explained, her voice a gentle murmur. "But she sends her love and wants you to focus on getting better."

Despite the fact that Y/N had moved from Belgium to America to be with Renée, her roots and family ties remained a significant part of her identity. The inability of her parents to be physically present added another layer of complexity to the emotional tapestry that was unfolding.

Renée continued to sit by Y/N's side, her eyes occasionally drifting towards the bustling activities in the hospital corridor. The medical staff continued their rounds, their presence a constant reminder of the delicate balance between vulnerability and expertise.

A nurse entered the room, carrying a tray with a lunch that mirrored the hospital's attempt at providing a sense of normalcy. "Lunchtime, Y/N. You need to keep your strength up," the nurse encouraged, placing the tray on the bedside table.

Renée glanced at the food, then at Y/N, hoping to see a spark of acknowledgment. However, Y/N's gaze remained fixed on the distant horizon, seemingly oblivious to the routines of the hospital room.

"Cutie, I know this is hard, but you have to try to eat," Renée urged, her concern etched on her face. "It's a small step towards healing."

As the day progressed, Renée found herself engaging in a delicate dance—balancing the responsibility of supporting Y/N with the need for self-care. The hospital became a microcosm of emotions, each moment a brushstroke in the evolving narrative of their journey through mental health challenges.

The psychiatric team returned for further discussions, presenting a tentative treatment plan that incorporated therapy sessions and counseling. Renée, eager to be an active participant in Y/N's recovery, absorbed the information with a sense of purpose.

The afternoon sun began its descent, casting a warm glow that transformed the hospital room into a haven of muted colors. Renée, acutely aware of the emotional toll the day had taken on both of them, decided to share a moment of vulnerability.

"Y/N, you mean the world to me," Renée confessed, her voice carrying a blend of love and vulnerability. "I want to understand what you're going through, and I want to be here for you every step of the way. Can we talk about it? Together?"

Y/N's response was a subtle shift in gaze, a fleeting acknowledgment that didn't quite pierce through the wall of dissociation. Renée, though faced with the formidable challenge of navigating Y/N's emotional landscape, remained undeterred.

As evening approached, Renée decided to step out of the hospital room for a breath of fresh air. The corridors, usually filled with the hustle and bustle of medical activities, now seemed to echo with a quietude that mirrored the complex emotions within.

Returning to the room, Renée found Y/N still lost in the introspective gaze towards the window. The day had been a tapestry of emotions, and the prospect of navigating the road ahead seemed both daunting and necessary.

As the day unfolded, Renée's concern for Y/N deepened, especially as she observed Y/N still caught in a state of detachment. The hospital room, usually a hub of activity, had transformed into a quiet sanctuary where the complexities of mental health were navigated with careful consideration.

In the late afternoon, a doctor entered the room, their white coat a symbol of expertise in a sea of uncertainty. Renée looked up, her eyes tired but filled with a quiet determination.

"Ms. Rapp, I understand you're worried about Y/N's state of detachment," the doctor began, their voice measured and reassuring. "It's not uncommon for individuals who have experienced significant emotional distress to enter a state of dissociation. It's the mind's way of coping with overwhelming emotions."

Renée nodded, her eyes never leaving Y/N's form. The doctor continued, "We're monitoring Y/N closely, and our psychiatric team is working on a comprehensive treatment plan. However, recovery is a gradual process, and patience is key."

"I just want to help her, you know? It's like she's there, but not really," Renée admitted, her voice a mix of frustration and genuine concern.

The doctor pulled up a chair, taking a seat next to Renée. "It's commendable that you're here to support Y/N. Emotional trauma can manifest in various ways, and dissociation is a defense mechanism. The mind compartmentalizes distressing experiences as a way to protect itself."

Renée's eyes flickered with a mix of understanding and a desire to unravel the complexities that held Y/N captive. "But how do we break through to her? How do we help her come back?"

The doctor leaned forward, their expression thoughtful. "In cases like this, establishing a sense of safety and trust is crucial. Emotional support, professional counseling, and time can all contribute to the process. Encouraging Y/N to express her emotions in a safe environment is an important step."

Renée nodded, absorbing the guidance. The doctor continued, "You play a vital role in Y/N's recovery. Your presence, understanding, and love can create a foundation for her to rebuild from. It's also essential to maintain open communication and encourage her to seek professional help when she's ready."

As the doctor spoke, Renée's gaze shifted back to Y/N. The complexity of emotions weighed heavily on her, but a determination to be the anchor for Y/N fueled her resolve.

"Thank you, Doctor. I just want her to know she's not alone," Renée expressed, a quiet determination in her voice.

The doctor stood up, offering a reassuring smile. "You're doing everything you can, and we're here to support both of you. Recovery is a journey, and each step, no matter how small, is progress."

As the doctor left the room, Renée took a moment to gather her thoughts. The hospital room, filled with the weight of unspoken emotions, became a space where hope and uncertainty coexisted. She approached Y/N, her hand gently reaching for Y/N's.

"Cutie, we're in this together. I'm not leaving your side," Renée whispered, her words a promise that echoed through the quiet room.

The evening unfolded with a gentle ebb and flow. Renée remained by Y/N's side, offering words of encouragement and the reassuring touch of her presence. The hospital staff continued their rounds, ensuring Y/N's physical well-being while the mental health professionals worked on the intricate puzzle of emotional recovery.

As nightfall draped the hospital room in shadows, Renée found herself reflecting on the day's events. The journey ahead was uncertain, but the resolve to stand by Y/N's side remained unwavering.

In the quiet moments between the hum of medical equipment and the distant sounds of the hospital, Renée clung to the belief that, together, they could navigate the complexities of mental health and emerge on the other side with a renewed understanding of the strength found in vulnerability and love.

The nurse, observing Renée's steadfast commitment to staying by Y/N's side, entered the room once again, her presence a gentle reminder of the practicalities that surrounded their situation.

"Ms. Rapp, I understand your dedication, but you need rest too. A proper rest will allow you to be the best support for Y/N," the nurse kindly suggested, her compassionate gaze reflecting genuine concern.

Renée, torn between the desire to stay and the acknowledgment of her own exhaustion, hesitated for a moment. The nurse continued, "We can arrange for a bed to be brought in. That way, you'll be close, and you can still keep a watchful eye on Y/N."

After a brief moment of consideration, Renée nodded, appreciating the practical solution the nurse had offered. "Alright, let's do that. I won't be far from her."

As the hospital staff arranged for a bed to be brought into the room, Renée took a moment to gather a few essentials from home. A change of clothes, some personal items, and a bag filled with comfort items for Y/N—Renée prepared to create a temporary home within the hospital walls.

Returning to the room, she found the nurse overseeing the placement of the bed. "Thank you," Renée expressed her gratitude, her eyes never straying far from Y/N's form on the hospital bed.

With the makeshift sleeping arrangements in place, Renée felt a mix of relief and weariness settle in. The nurse, noting Renée's state, suggested, "Take a little break. You can use the shower facilities here. It might help you feel a bit more refreshed."

Renée hesitated for a moment, considering the suggestion. Eventually, she agreed, realizing the importance of self-care in order to be a pillar of support for Y/N. "Alright, I'll take a quick shower. Thank you."

The nurse directed Renée to the hospital's shower facilities, a space where the sound of running water and the warmth of steam created a momentary escape from the weight of emotions. Renée undressed, allowing the hot water to cascade over her, its comforting touch offering a brief respite.

In the solitude of the shower, Renée allowed her mind to wander. Thoughts of the day's events, Y/N's struggles, and the complexities of mental health circled in her thoughts like fragments of a puzzle waiting to be assembled.

The rhythmic sound of water echoed in the tiled enclosure, creating a meditative backdrop to Renée's contemplation. Steam enveloped her, and for a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to be present in the simplicity of the shower—finding a small oasis within the storm of emotions.

As Renée dried off and dressed in fresh clothes, a sense of renewal accompanied her back to Y/N's room. The hospital bed was a stark contrast to the familiarity of their home, but Renée was determined to create a sense of comfort within these clinical walls.

With a bag filled with comforting items, Renée approached Y/N's bedside, her heart heavy with both concern and determination. The hospital room, now adorned with a makeshift bed for Renée, became a canvas for creating a sense of familiarity amidst the sterile surroundings.

"Hey, cutie. I brought some things to make you feel a bit more at home," Renée spoke gently, her voice a soothing presence in the quiet room. She carefully arranged the items on the bedside table—Y/N's cherished teddy bear, the soft candy she loved, the Marvel shirt that always brought her comfort, a hoodie that had become a source of solace, and a picture of their beloved dog Winston.

"These are here for you, babe. A piece of home to keep you company," Renée continued, her eyes reflecting a mix of love and concern as she arranged the items with meticulous care.

She then turned her attention to Y/N's attire, retrieving some comfy clothes from the bag. "I brought you a change of clothes, something soft and familiar," Renée explained, unfolding the fabric and placing it within easy reach.

As she settled into the bedside chair, Renée took Y/N's hand, her touch a gentle reassurance. "We're in this together, okay? You're not alone."

The hospital room, now adorned with the tangible fragments of their shared life, took on a warmer ambiance. The familiar scents and textures seemed to bridge the gap between the clinical environment and the haven they were trying to create.

Renée, clad in comfortable clothes herself, leaned back in the chair, a small smile playing on her lips. "I know it's not our cozy bed at home, but we'll make this space our own, even if it's just for now."

She reached for Y/N's Marvel shirt, unfolding it and holding it up. "Remember this? The superhero shirt that always made you feel invincible. You've got your own superpowers, you know—strength, resilience, and a heart that's as powerful as any hero."

Renée's words, infused with both sincerity and a touch of playfulness, sought to pierce through the veil of dissociation that held Y/N captive. She continued talking, recounting memories, sharing stories, and offering words of love and encouragement.

As the night deepened, the hospital room transformed into a cocoon of shared memories and whispered hopes. Renée, with an unwavering commitment, remained by Y/N's side—navigating the labyrinth of emotions with a tenacity that spoke volumes of the love that bound them together.

The glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm hue on the room, creating a sanctuary where the complexities of mental health met the resilience of love. Renée, surrounded by the echoes of their life, found solace in the belief that, together, they could weather the storm and emerge stronger on the other side.

The soft hum of the hospital room was disrupted as the nurse gently approached, her steps deliberate so as not to startle Renée. The subdued glow of the bedside lamp cast a gentle illumination, revealing Renée nestled in the makeshift bed next to Y/N.

"Wake up, Ms. Rapp. It's time for Y/N's bandages," the nurse spoke in hushed tones, recognizing the need for delicacy in the quietude of the night.

Renée stirred from her slumber, the remnants of a deep sleep lingering in her eyes. Blinking away the drowsiness, she focused on the nurse, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. As the nurse attended to Y/N's bandages, Renée remained vigilant, her eyes a mix of gratitude and weariness.

Once the bandaging was complete, Renée, her voice softened by the night, spoke to the nurse, "Hey, could you help me change Y/N into something a bit more comfortable? Maybe her favorite boxers, the Marvel shirt, and my hoodie?"

The nurse, understanding the desire to provide comfort in the small gestures, nodded in agreement. "Of course, Ms. Rapp. I'll assist you with that."

Together, with a gentle and synchronized effort, they carefully changed Y/N into the familiar ensemble—soft boxers, the Marvel shirt that held memories, and Renée's comforting hoodie. The nurse, efficient yet compassionate, recognized the significance of these small acts in creating a sense of familiarity within the clinical confines of the hospital.

As they worked in tandem, Renée spoke to Y/N in a soft murmur, a steady stream of reassurances and love. "There you go, cutie. Back in your favorite gear. We're in this together, okay?"

The room, now enveloped in the quiet aftermath of their actions, became a haven where vulnerability met tenderness. The nurse, with a gentle pat on Renée's shoulder, retreated, leaving them once again in the embrace of the night.

Renée, settling back into the makeshift bed, cast a fond glance at Y/N, who now rested in the familiar attire. "We're creating our own little world in here, aren't we?" she mused, her voice a gentle melody in the quiet room.

The night continued its journey, marked by the rhythmic hum of medical equipment and the soft breaths of two intertwined souls. Renée, despite the weariness that lingered in her bones, found solace in the belief that these small, intimate acts could weave a tapestry of comfort and love amid the complexities of mental health.

As the room embraced the serenity of the night, Renée, nestled by Y/N's side, surrendered once again to the realm of dreams and whispered promises—a cocoon of warmth in the heart of the hospital's quietude.

#fanfic #fandom #reneé rapp x reader #renee rapp #renee rapp x reader #adhd reader #reneé rapp x fem!reader #renee rapp x fem!reader #reneé rapp

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howlingday · 4 months

Text

Codename: Red Dawn

This is a man with an ambition.

=============================

Jaune: (Opens the door) Hello? Can I help you?

Adam: My name is Adam Tauren. I'm a co-worker of Mrs. Belladina. She left this magnifying glass in her office.

Jaune: Oh, well, I'm sorry to tell you this, but Blake stepped out for a moment.

Adam: (Thinking) I already know. This was just an attempt to get close to you, since you're the reason she's so distracted from her mission.

Jaune: Would you like to come inside for coffee?

Adam: I suppose if you're offering, then I have no reason to deny it.

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

Adam: You have a lovely home.

Adam: Jaune Arc. If I find out that you're a detriment to our mission, then I will see you eliminated!.

Jaune: Thank you, but it was my wife who mostly did the decorations.

Adam: This man is very skilled. Finding a weak-point may prove difficult.

Jaune: (Thinking) He's so intimidating! Aside from Sun and Saph, I've never had a guest on my own before! Just remember; you are Blake's husband. You are Blake's husband!.

Adam: Removing him directly would prove too risky. It's better to convince him to leave on his own.

Adam: Your daughter... Penny, right? She seems to be quite the active child.

Jaune: Huh? Oh, yeah! She's always got so much energy!

Adam: That must be difficult. It must be hard to keep up with her sometimes, doesn't it?

Adam: She's only your step-child. Why bother putting in so much effort? Let me take over.

Jaune: Hard? Not really. I have a lot of energy myself, too, y'know! Now, if she was moody and down in the dumps all the time, I don't know what I'd do! Besides, we have a ton of fun together!

Adam: Spare me the affection. You're not her father.

Jaune: But the one who really struggles is Blake. She's spread so thin as it is, I can't help but feel like I could be doing more...

Adam: Bingo. You're not meant for this operation. You need to realize your own inadequacy.

Adam: Yes, I have heard Mrs. Belladina complain on multiple occasions about your inability to-

Penny: Penny has returned home~!

Blake: Adam? What are you doing here?

Adam: Greetings, Mrs. Belladina.

Jaune: Mr. Tauren was returning this magnifying glass.

Penny: Oh! That's where it was!

Blake: Ah, I see. Thank you.

Blake: (Thinking) If he's here, then it must mean there's urgent business.

Jaune: I'm surprised to see you three back already.

Blake: It looked like rain, so I made sure Juniper was quick with her business.

Blake: (Speaking normally, Code-talking) Why are you really here, Red Dawn?

Adam: (Speaking normally, Code-talking) I'm here to assess the progress of your mission.

Penny: (Mind-reading, Thinking) This scary guy is a spy, too?!.

Blake: The mission is going fine.

Adam: Is walking your daughter's pet vital to the mission? Why not make this man do all of your errands. Is he refusing to cooperate?

Blake: (Narrows eyes) What are you trying to say?

Adam: You're spending less time focused on the mission and more on this household fantasy. I suggest we reevaluate your operational tactics.

Blake: You're in no position to suggest anything.

Penny: Mama and this scary guy are fighting! Is he a bad guy?!.

Adam: Agent Nightshade...

Adam: I LOVE YOU.

Penny: (Blinks, Shakes head)

Adam: I LOVE...

Adam: YOOOOOOOU~!.

Penny: ...

Adam: How can she not see how perfect I would be as her husband? I can offer superior domestic support! Exquisite five-star meals, five-digit financial support, laundry complete in no time, lifesaving first aid, and even reconnaissance assistance on all your enemies you'll ever face, including names, weapons, allergies, and how many white hairs they have on their heads!.

Jaune: I'll make some more coffee. Penny, would you like some cocoa?

Adam: We'll honeymoon in Vale.

Blake: What is he thinking? I can never tell.

Penny: ...

#rwby #spy x family #jaune arc #adam taurus #penny polendina #blake belladonna #knightshade #rwby au

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seneitut · 7 months

Text

Seasons

[Autumn] [Winter] [Spring] [Summer]

[Yoru/Reader] [Gekko/Reader]

Words: 1.5K

Tags: Sadness, cheating, hurt/no comfort (Only first part...maybe), breaking-up, self-hate, poor self-esteem, background ships.

Autumn

[Youth - Daughter]

When the first leaves of autumn lose all their lively greenish color and are set to disguise themselves to a reddish hue, as if touched by fire or the early dawn of a morning enveloping them in a warm tone, is when you realize that your lover has been unfaithful to you.

It was painful, to say the least, that it almost felt like a joke.

That something so precious will never belong to you anymore and despair is the only answer for dealing with the loss.

Because not even bidding your last words of affection to someone who didn't want to hear from you, nor have you in his sights anymore, was enough to fill that empty void eating you from the inside.

It was hard to navigate through these unknown waters being as inexperienced as you were when it comes to love— confused and hurt when neglected, fulfilled when he spared you a moment of his day.

And to acknowledge he doesn’t want you after you confronted him, as if it was your fault instead of his that led him to take these actions that pained you, it was devastating and unavoidable. Eating every spiteful word of his when you approached for the last time to figure things out and ask why? Why did he do it?

I don’t have to explain things, he had said. He pitied you, but not even then did he consider answering your pleading question, because he believed he didn't owe you the bare minimum as an explanation.

Letting him go would be the most reasonable decision to take, but the idea of begging him to stay was stronger than your sadness, willing yourself to be humiliated if that meant he wasn't going to leave and might give you a chance to meddle in his decision of abandonment—and if it weren't for Jett, the one who figured your intentions and knocked some sense into your head, you might have done it with no regrets.

Completely furious and blinded by rage, she snapped at you with no regards to your fragile emotions, questioning your judgment throughout the break-up and challenging you whether you were able to take care of yourself or not, whether you were thinking with your head or were you just stupid for going after a boy who never deserved you.

It all came from a good place.

Within her heart, Jett cares so much about your well-being that seeing you kneel in front of her— asking if you were a little more loving to him, if only you could've pleased him more, or maybe be able to be in his league, would he have stayed by your side and not search for whatever you were lacking in someone else—your broken expression set something ugly and dark in her heart that Jett couldn't help but burst it all on you.

“Why can't you see your worth?!” She screamed, shaking you by your shoulders. “Has he plummeted your self-esteem to the depths so badly that this is your conclusion? Are you stupid?!”

Misdirected anger, since Jett wanted to murder him for making you go through this, not hurt you further with her words.

For when she realized what she had said, an apology flew from her mouth, avoiding your sad eyes and crumbling form in front of her, before leaving to chastise herself for being too absorbed in her negative emotion instead of helping you out with this situation.

Although you wished she had stayed, you understood Jett might have not been in her best moment to support you.

This was not about you two, after all, and a chat might take place in the future to fix things between friends, but for now, you both needed to cool off.

Just thinking about how Jett would have reacted if she were the one to witness what you did gives you the chills.

But Phoenix was there when you found out.

He was on a walk when you encountered him by chance. And eager as ever, the man offered his company on this warm day out while you chatted softly about nothing in particular.

You've always liked his energy and character: playful, kind, and a teaser to the core. Is no wonder Jett and him get along so well, despite the many flirtatious words directed at each other, their dynamic is something you have always been envious of, if not a little greedy to have it for yourself.

Perhaps you will have it in the future, who knows? There is always faith that your relationship might go another route and things might change for the better and just like you always dreamed of.

It was a naive thought, you think from back then, sharing this tidbit of information with Phoenix.

He was always encouraging of your relationship, despite having his doubts about his friend being capable of love. But Phoenix never let those thoughts known because he knew how smitten you were, unable to break that bubble of yours and hopeful for an improvement from his friend's part.

Until you both saw him.

Between the yards and yards of space, trees surrounding every corner and the ray of sunlight filtering through gaps in the foliage; who could've thought this is where you would meet your demise—

as if watching it through a sepia film the moment that shattered you completely.

Is not like there was a kiss or anything of the sort, although you think if you were a little more late, something else might have happened.

But the scene in front of you was enough of a telltale— the way he orbited around that woman, smiling and teasing, was not something you would see often on him when it comes to you.

In his hand was a single yellow flower, from the distance you couldn't make out what kind it was, but the intention was clear.

He leaned in, tucking the object with tenderness in her ear, and caressing her cheek with the soft touch of his fingertips and angling her face closer to his.

The woman huffs in amusement, taking his hand between hers and kissing the open palm with affection before leaning her head on his hand.

There were no words needed to understand what was going on there nor critical thinking to guess that he holds a deep affection towards the woman just like she does to him. The resemblance to what a perfect couple would look like shatters you into a million pieces—, their colors melting together in a harmonious painting you couldn't help the burning jealousy burning you from the inside.

Phoenix was the one who shouted in disbelief, throwing an arm in front of you, as if to shield you from whatever was unfolding in front of your eyes, and made intentions to confront him now that he has been caught.

Nauseous and anxiousness were eating you alive, worsening when the couple turned around, startled, and both took distance from each other in guilt when they realized they were being watched.

You wonder: if he were to explain that you misread the situation, would you have believed him? God, you would have let this go the instant he tells you to forget it because that's how much trust and blind love you have for him.

But the avoidance from both of them, not even looking you in the eyes nor explaining themselves was enough to overwhelm you with sadness.

By then you couldn't hold back the tears and turned around to escape from the scene, having Phoenix run after you in a wild chase to make sure you were okay.

It's sad to say you bonded deeply with Phoenix when the break-up happened; but you were grateful for his presence when you needed it the most.

He was the one to hold you tightly and help the tears flow endlessly like a broken dam, flooding your room with painful sobs and staggering hiccups while his hands caressed your hair and gave you gentle squeezes on the shoulder to ground you with him.

Phoenix has experienced this kind of situation before, knows how hurt you must feel and how hard it is to see your lover with someone who you considered a friend before— now the labels are all twisted because, what should one act like from now on?

“He will face consequences if you want.” Phoenix whispered. His hugs were warm and soothing, expected from someone who carries a flame within them and is a spark of joy in anyone's life.

Although, right now, his fire wants to burn the sole person who dared to betray your trust like this.

“I don't want to talk about this anymore.” was your reply. And while Phoenix understood where you were coming from, he didn't agree wholeheartedly with the decision, but decided to honor your wishes.

Because despite everything, there is still the same affection and undying love you had since day one for him.

Despite everything, you still held love for Kiritani Ryo.

#seneitut writes #gekko x reader #yoru x reader #valorant fanfiction #valorant x reader

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sorcerous-caress · 6 months

Note

Oof, the training routine Minthara puts in place does work. But it only applies to the actual camp members, former clan mates of Tav still gain their anger.

Fighting still happens but it's mostly relegated to Malar upstarts testing their luck. It all comes to a head one night, when Minthara is giving Shadowheart pointers.

Camp is quiet besides the two elves talking then they hear it. Snarling, howls and the clashing of teeth, the commotion ends as quickly as it begins. yet its not an upstart that breaks through the brush injured.

It's Tav

Limping towards their pact leaders seeking comfort.

Minthara decides the camp is going to gain new fur rugs by dawn

What seprates Minthara from the all the other wannabe leaders?

That she knows the true meaning of dominance. It's not as simple as being the bigger person or stronger one, not just anyone can afford to be truely in charge.

You can't expect obedience and submission if you're only barking orders around and punishing people left and right, you need to earn the right to do that.

They should revere you as much as they fear you, know you're dependable. You must be the one putting the food on the table, keeping the sick cared for and offering your protection.

That when the actual enemy comes around, you'll be the one heading in first.

So when she sees Reader, bloody and limping towards her. She doesn't hesitate a second before taking them in her arms, letting them lean against her and supporting them with her body.

She is your strength when you're weak. She will fill all of your needs and more. To obey her is to be treasured by her.

And she will avenge you. Every offence in your name will be repayed tenfolds to the offender. Her true anger and rage is savoured to her enemies.

Tav is strong, Minthara knows it, and Shadowheart knows it. It was never doubted from the start. But what kind of leader can she call herself if she lets the puppy under her training get this badly injuired, how can she even dare to order Tav around if she can't offer the basic protection.

She isn't stupid. she and Shadowheart nurse you back to health first. Your bursts of disobedience and rage are overlooked just this once. You get treated firmly but with gentle and care.

And then, she will take you back to those who dared lay a finger on you and make you watch as she tears them limb from limb. Their screams of apologises will fall upon deaf ears.

Shadowheart has been suppressing her primal instinct to immediately go after the people who hurt you since she smelled your blood that night, it took every bit of her self control not to walk out of camp to bring you their heads the same day.

But now? She is free to do that and more, to show you just how far your mate will go to defend you. Her body was made to bleed and fight for you and your safety.

#♡minthara #♡shart #♡Wereshart #♡Drabble

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lady-de-mon-coeur · 1 year

Text

Ladrien fic recs list part 2

part 1

Lucky Love by @lea-panthera

Rated T. 2,774 words. Angst.

Summary: Adrien wants to finally be with his lady.

Mr Brightside by @ariadsishereagain

Words: 2,686. Angst, fluff.

Summary: Chat Noir has to deal with his jealousy watching his lady flirt with Flairmidable.

But you'll never be alone, I'll be with you from dusk 'til dawn by @xhanisai

Summary: "Ladybug," Oh no, he was using her full name. "Why do you always hold back with your feelings for me?"

The heroine wanted a hole to swallow her up right there and then, having half expected him to get straight to the point but she was never prepared for this amount of bluntness. She should've known. She should've known because of how smart and perceptive he is. She should've known because he knows her so damn well, it's as if her heart and soul are bare within his eyes.

She should've fucking known that he'd catch on that she's just as madly in love with him too.

"Because I don't deserve you,"

The biggest fans by @ariadsishereagain

Words: 2,310.

Summary: Marinette is sick and upset for a reason. Adrien wants to make her happy again. What better way to cheer her up other than to meet Paris’ two superheroes! Except for some reason, Ladybug is not down to meet Marinette. Adrien’s left to think that the two best girls in his life hate each other.

The girl under the mask by @purrincess-chat

Rated T. Words: 15,356. Fluff

Summary: After his father is attacked by an evil akuma, Adrien can't get his lady out of his head when she pays him a brief visit to ensure his safety. He entreats her to visit more often, and it sparks the beginning of a beautifully awkward relationship as Adrien discovers that the girl under the mask is just as amazing as he had hoped.

Love isn't always on time by @baconwaffle2016

Rated T. Words: 3,190.

Summary: A reimagining of how Adrien discovers Ladybug’s identity in “Chat Blanc,” as told through video games, shy and awkward smiles, and so much that is unspoken.

A shoulder to lean on by @passionfruitbowls

Rated T. Words: 1,468. Angst.

Summary: After the shocking discovery of Hawkmoth’s true identity, only one person can offer Adrien the support he needs.

Darkest before dawn by @rosie-b

Rated T. Words: 6,847. Angst.

Summary: Adrien Agreste has not been having a good day. Alone in the park after being thrown in the trash by Ladybug, he is in danger of being akumatized. In canon, Gabriel decides to be a decent father and not akumatize him. But what if he’d made a different choice?

Hold me close by @ck2k18

Rated T. Words: 1,496. Fluff.

Summary: Alya has a plan to get Marinette and Adrien together, and the result is Adrien is spending a lot more time in Ladybugs arms. But what happens when an akuma shatters the illusion?

#ml fanfiction #ml fic recs #ladrien #ml leak free #ladrien my beloved

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soulsilversprings · 1 year

Text

Throughout DP, Zoey reassures Dawn multiple times with things like "How could I not be nervous? It's the Grand Festival" and "To be honest, I was nervous I wasn't gonna make it through the appeal round" (paraphrased).

But as a viewer from Dawn's perspective, I don't buy it. Because as far as I can remember, she never has any major flaws in her appeals/battle strategies, she's so confident and collected, and things almost always work out for her. So I imagine that at some point, Zoey empathizes Dawn again, and Dawn is flat-out like, "I don't believe you."

So, fic concept where Zoey enters Super Rank contests immediately after DP, because she thinks pushing herself is the way to get better. Except, she gets decimated early on. Solidad and Lisia defeat her. Perhaps she even gets knocked out of an appeal round. Turns out, she'd gotten too comfortable breezing through Normal Rank contests. Now, all her competitors are as good or better than her, their strategies sophisticated and fine-tuned in ways she can't predict. It's quite an adjustment.

But, her real downfall is her self-imposed need to put on a brave face for everyone. To feign optimism in front of Solidad, who offers to train with her, because she doesn't want to admit her weakness to seasoned coordinators (or herself). To ignore Dawn and Candice's calls, because she can't bear to admit to them that she might be struggling. Nope, surely if she just keeps thinking rationally and powering through, she'll find her footing among the crowd. It's not quite Dawn's loud "no need to worry" attitude, but because she's not being honest and forgiving of herself, it becomes self-sabotaging and drives her to a breaking point.

I'm not sure how this fic would end - perhaps Zoey decides that she needs to quit this circuit early and take a break for herself, and she travels to a new region to get some fresh perspective? Or, with support from Dawn, Glameow, and others, she's able to sit with her feelings, forgive herself, and get back on her feet a bit? Either way, Dawn seeing that Zoey isn't perfect, and loving her anyway and supporting her through her struggles, would be fundamental to this fic!

#zoey pokemon #appealshipping #wip tag #wip #this story might also include harley. may. daisy oak. and marina???#we shall see!!#idk im just craving more zoey-focused appealshipping #where shes more than just the picture-perfect love interest for dawn #would take place in the same universe as 'im just glad youre here' (the Dawn POV appeal wip i currently have in my list!)

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cyberpunkren · 6 months

Text

Blood & Wires

Fandom: Cyberpunk 2077

Pairing: Ren x RiverWard

Raiting: explicit

Summary: Amidst thrilling bounty hunting missions and perilous confrontations, Ren and River discover that, despite their differences, they share a common commitment: unmasking the mega-corporation and restoring justice in Night City. But as they delve deeper into the depths of the conspiracy, they also find a connection that goes beyond friendship and professional collaboration.

In the heart of betrayal and danger, love blooms in this tale of action, intrigue, and romance in a cyberpunk world filled with bright lights and dark shadows. As Ren and River fight together against ruthless foes and deadly conspiracies, they also fight for a love that defies all odds.

Author notes: this is going to be a long series so... im ready for it because I haven't seen a lot of stories of River and im obsessed!!! This is a brief summary of what's to come. Hope you all enjoy it

PART II

This is the chapter II of the series I'm doing, hope you enjoy it!!!

Ren's path

Ren's alarm clock jolts her from her slumber at the crack of dawn.

"Good morning, Heywood," Ren murmurs silently as the city that never sleeps greets her with its endless car honks and the constant waft of filth that haunts the city. Ren had a childhood marked by tragedy on the streets of Night City. When she was just a child, a ruthless cyberphycho killed her parents in a senseless act of violence. This tragic event left Ren orphaned and traumatized, struggling to survive in the shadows of an unforgiving city.

After the tragedy, Ren was taken in by the Heywood district, which became a kind of maternal figure to her. The people of the district rallied to care for the orphaned girl, providing her with support and protection in the midst of Night City's cruelty. Although the city could be a dangerous place, Heywood offered her a refuge and the opportunity to grow up in a safer environment.

Throughout her childhood, Ren developed a strong will and unwavering determination to face the challenges presented by the city. The loss of her parents and her experiences on the streets shaped her character and drove her to become the brave and determined bounty hunter she is today.

As always, her routine begins with a rigorous morning workout. Hand-to hand combat and target practice keep her peak in condition. After a refreshing shower, Ren dons her hunting suit and prepares to head out into the streets of the Night City.

As she rushes down the apartment building's stairs, she decides to make a quick stop at the neighborhood cafe, where she often runs with her friend Max. Max, a skilled hacker, has been her friend for years, and although Ren is unaware, he secretly harbors deeper feelings for her.

Ren enters the cafe and finds Max at his usual table, surrounded by electronic devices and cables. He looks up and smiles when he sees her walk by in. "Does Nigh City's bravest bounty hunter need her morning caffeine fix?" Max quips as he gestures to an empty chair across from him.

"Wel, you know I can't start the day with a decent cup of coffee," Ren replies with a smile. As they enjoy their drinks, they discuss her upcoming mission, and Max offers some technological advice that might come in handy. As they chat, Max can't help but feel a mix of admiration and unrequited love for Ren, emotions he carefully keeps hidden. Knowing the past of Ren.

After bidding Max goodbye, Ren readies herself to face the day's challenges and head to the underground bar where her next bounty awaits. The city never stops, and Ren knows it better than anyone.

The underground bar, known as "The Neon Shadow", is a clandestine meeting place where hackers and criminals rub shoulders in search of valuable information and secret deals. Ren meticulously prepares for the mission.

Before entering the bar, Ren syncs up with Max.

"Are you there already?"

"Yes, Max, I'm starting to smell the stink of poorly places chrome in these sons of bitches'flesh," Ren's murmurs as she scans the crowd in the underground bar, her cybernetic eye discreetly analyzing people for clues.

"Be careful this time. I don't want to pick you up again by your pretty hair to take you to see Viktor," Max responds, concerned in his voice.

"I don't think Viktor has had time for me lately. He's too busy with another patient," Ren sighs. "I should go check on them. Misty must be devastated by the loss of Jackie. I didn't know him well, but I know he was one of the best Valentinos. Have you heard the news about what happened? I don't know how they got themselves into that mess."

"And I hope you never find out or you'll end up like them," Max warns. "I don't know how his chum survived. People say he's turned into a cyberphycho"

"Well, I'm going in," Ren concludes as she is prepared to confront Arachnid and the uncertainty that looms over the mission.

As she scans her surroundings, Ren notices an individual who seams unusually nervous and avoids eye contact. This could be Arachnid. She discreetly scans him and confirms his identity.

"Max? Confirmation?" Ren asks happily knowing this man was scared to death.

"Bingo"

"Why is it that the ones with the toughest nickname turn out to be the most terrified, Max?" Ren whispers through the holographic device.

"I don't know, all I know is that lately, you've been way too lucky. I swear, I sense something bad, like in those old space war movies."

"Max, it's Star Wars please! A little more retro culture. And yes, I also have a feeling that something bad is looming over us, chum, karma can't be that good to us, or that's what Misty says. But as long as we enjoy this mediocre place and make some eddies."

As Ren and Max exchange these words, Ren can't shake the feeling of impending danger. The dimly lit bar, filled with shady characters and the buzz of clandestine deals, only adds to the tension in the air. Ren takes another sip of her drink, her eyes constantly scanning the room, alert for any sign of trouble.

Meanwhile, Max, back at their safe virtual hideout, keeps an eye on the bar through the security cameras, ready to assist Ren if things take a turn of the worse. He knows that Ren's instinct is usually spot on, and he's prepared to act swiftly to help her in any way he can.

Max is a tall, lean man in his late 20s with a hacker's signature edgy style. He has shaggy dark hair that falls messily over his forehead, partially obscuring his sharp, intelligent eyes. His pale complexion is a testament to countless hours he spends in front of computer screens. Max often sports a black leather jacket adorned with various cyberpunk-inspired patches and a t-shirt featuring obscure references to old-school pop culture.

A pair of stylish augmented sunglasses, which he often pushes back onto his forehead, adds to his mysterious and slightly rebellious appearance. Max's fingers are agile and nimble, well-suited for intricate keyboard work. He's always seen with a holographic device, constantly fiddling with it to access information, communicate with Ren, or hack into systems.

Max's personality is a blend of tech-savvy brilliance and a quirky sense of humor. He's fiercely loyal to Ren and would go to great lengths to protect her. Despite the dangers of Night City, Max maintains a cool and composed demeanor, but there's a deep sense of concern for Ren beneath the surface.

Ren positions herself next to the bar in the filthy and repugnant bar to speak quietly, without drawing attention with Arachnid. A few words could be enough to apprehend him without any problems, as he was alone according to Max's observations on the security cameras.

"Arachnid, do you think you can escape this? You're surrounded, and there's no way out."

"Oh, Ren, you've always been the tireless hunter, haven't you?"

"Oh, what a surprise, how do you even know my precious name?"

"Of course I know it, how can't I know one of the legends of Hellwood? Ren the bounty hunter, even though that's not your real name..."

"For you and all this scumbag yes, It's Ren, nothing more and nothing less, just Ren. And now with the deal..."

"Let me tell you, you don't know who you're dealing with. I have influential friends in dark places."

"Your threats don't impress me, Arachnid. You've committed crimes, and you'll pay for them. There's no escape."

"You know something, Ren? You might be right, that there's no escape. But that doesn't mean I'm the only one with secrets to hide."

"Speak, Arachnid. You don't have much time."

"Maybe you're right, maybe not. But there's something you should know before I hand you over. Night City is about to change forever, and not in the way you imagine."

"What are you insinuating, Arachnid? Speak plainly."

"You'll find out soon. I can't reveal more. But keep in mind that nothing is as it seems in this city."

Suddenly, a police patrol surrounds the place, and all the scum in the bar flee for their lives. Of course, everyone had a record, not even the bartender was clean. In cases like this, the NCPD doesn't get involved; they know how dangerous these people can be, especially cyberpsychos, and it wasn't a good night to call Max Tag, they were a pain in the ass, even for the NCPD.

"This is the end of the road, but I might come to visit you in prison and maybe bring you some flowers,"

Arachnid, though with a defiant expression, knows he's cornered. The police surround Arachnid, handcuff him, and proceed to take him into custody.

"Thank you, Ren, you should work with us more. You're really good at this, chum," says Watson, Ren's partner who gives her the toughest cases of the police.

"You're welcome, chum, but you know I don't get along with the NCPD. Too much corruption, even more than in this dive of a place."

"Not all of us are like that, Ren, you know it."

"I only do it for the eddies, Watson, and because I don't let down my lifelong chums."

"Goodbye, Ren, and thanks again. They'll transfer everything to you tomorrow without fail."

Ren nods and watches as Arachnid is escorted out of the bar. As they take him away, Arachnid glares at Ren with resentment and unfulfilled promises.

Ren observes the scene with determination, knowing she has fulfilled her duty. As the police move away with Arachnid, Max approaches Ren.

"As always, a job well done, chum."

"Yes, Max, but I can't help but think about what Arachnid mentioned earlier. Night City is on the brink of change, and we don't know in which direction."

After the mission, Ren and Max find themselves outside the underground bar, where the night in Night City is still alive. Max looks at Ren with concern in his digital eyes.

"Ren, would you like to grab a drink? We could celebrate another job well done."

"Not today, Max. Today is the day when everything happened." sights deeply

Max nods, understanding the reference to the tragic loss of her husband.

"I understand, Ren. If you need anything, I'm here."

Ren bids farewell to Max and walks away from the bar, lost in her thoughts. As she strolls through the illuminated streets of Night City, she takes a small photo of her husband from her pocket. She gazes at the image with nostalgia and affection, reminiscing about the happy times they shared.

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edwardskhakipants · 2 years

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I see you and other EdBella shippers talk about how you didn’t like the dynamic between them in Eclipse, or that you reject Breaking Dawn entirely, and I’ve never understood why. Could you please explain? Loving your new fics by the way ☀️

Hey!

I can't speak for everyone, obviously. And honestly, you've poked the bear with this question. Here comes a rant... (I am so sorry)

My issues with EC aren't with EdBella at all. They have some beautiful moments. "Take care of my heart, I left it with you" "you're the only one who's touched my heart, it will always be yours" "you love me more than I deserve". I can go on and on.

My issue is how drastically every character changed to make the ridiculous love triangle work.

Jacob is the most obvious, and we'll step right over that mess.

Edward went from, "I'm going to be overbearing for the next few weeks. I don't want you to think I'm naturally a tyrant," when Bella found out about the nomads, to breaking apart Bella's truck and lying to her all the damn time.

Bella is the worst. In the other two books, Bella was recklessly selfless and good to her core. It was what brought me (and Edward) to love her. But in EC, the entire plot was centered around her selfishness.

She was unapologetically selfish, and everyone let her! Edward flat-out blamed himself for his fiance cheating on him. Even Alice was sympathetic towards Bella having to choose between her own brother and her natural enemy. She had every, single person's devotion and support while not offering either of those things to anyone else.

And for what? What did the love triangle bring to the story? You cannot tell me a single Team Jacob person out there honestly thought Bella would choose Jacob over Edward. They were engaged. Obsessed with one another. I could see the point of the love triangle if Bella broke up with Edward and he needed to win her heart back from Jacob, but there wasn't even any of that. All the love triangle did was make Bella look tactless, self-centered, and unfaithful.

And Edward deserved better than that. I guess that would be my issue with EdBella in EC. Edward deserved better. At the very least, he deserved to get upset for being treated as he did. But he didn't get that. He just sat there, smiled through the pain, and let Bella do what she wanted. And in the end, he sat her down in the meadow and offered to give her everything she wanted, no strings attached. No lessons learned, there.

Breaking Dawn is another story entirely. Again, nothing with EdBella's dynamic. I read the first five chapters of that book probably a dozen times. I simply stopped caring. I didn't care about the baby. I didn't care about Jacob's POV. And I did not care about Bella's life as a vampire after it came so naturally to her.

Sorry for the Eclipse rant there... but thank you for the ask! And I'm glad you're enjoying my fics!

#i know this makes it seem that i hate bella #but i dont #i love twilight and NM bella with my entire heart #i devote so much time and effort for celebrating that character in my fics #but she really does lose my love in EC

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thefunlovingclown · 8 months

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Chapter 3: Embracing Hope

In the magical tapestry of the Boiling Isles, Jestrina's journey continued with a new chapter that would test her resilience and the bonds of friendship.

The rejection letter from the Enchanted Elite club had hit Jestrina hard. She held the parchment in her trembling hands, her heart aching with disappointment. The tears flowed freely as she read and reread the words that spelled out her rejection. The weight of her perceived failure seemed almost too heavy to bear.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting shadows across her room, Luz entered with a gentle knock. The concern in her eyes was palpable as she approached Jestrina, who sat hunched over on her bed, tears staining her cheeks.

"Jestrina," Luz's voice was soft, full of empathy. "What happened?"

Jestrina's shoulders trembled as she hiccupped through her sobs. "Luz, I... I got rejected by the Enchanted Elite. I'm... I'm not good enough for them."

Luz sat down beside her, her presence a comforting anchor in the sea of Jestrina's emotions. She placed a hand on Jestrina's back, offering a gentle touch of understanding. "Jestrina, I know it hurts, but you're not defined by their decision. You have a unique magic that's all your own."

Jestrina wiped her tears, her nose giving a soft honk of distress. "But Luz, I'm bad at this... I can't do this magic stuff like everyone else."

Luz's gaze was unwavering, her words carrying a note of conviction. "Jestrina, you're not bad at magic. You just have a different style, a style that's all yours. And I know, deep down, you'll find your own way to shine."

With a deep sigh, Luz wrapped her arms around Jestrina in a warm hug. At first, Jestrina tensed, her nose giving a surprised honk. But then, as she felt the genuine warmth and care in Luz's embrace, she allowed herself to relax into it.

"Sometimes, we all need a little help finding hope," Luz whispered. "And I'm here to remind you that you're not alone in this journey."

As the night passed and the sun rose on a new day, Jestrina woke up with a renewed sense of purpose. The memory of Luz's comforting words lingered, igniting a spark of determination within her.

Later that day, as Jestrina wandered the halls of Hexside, she overheard snippets of conversation among her classmates. The Coven Clash tournament was the talk of the school—an event where students could showcase their magical abilities. Excitement bubbled within her, and she knew that this was an opportunity she couldn't ignore.

Rushing to find Luz, she shared the news of the tournament. A smile tugged at Luz's lips as she listened. "Jestrina, this is your chance to prove that your magic is special in its own way. Let's train together!"

With Luz by her side, Jestrina threw herself into rigorous training. She practiced her spells, honed her abilities, and discovered creative ways to channel her unique magic. Luz provided guidance and encouragement, reminding her that every step forward was a victory.

As the days turned into weeks, Jestrina's skills grew. Each honk of her red clown nose was a testament to her perseverance and growth. And as the day of the Coven Clash tournament dawned, Jestrina stood before the arena with a mix of excitement and trepidation.

Luz's smile was a beacon of support as they exchanged a nod. "Remember, Jestrina, this is your chance to shine."

With a deep breath, Jestrina honked her nose, her unique way of gathering strength. And as the battles began, she stepped into the arena, ready to show the world that hope and friendship could help her overcome even the toughest challenges.

#owl house au #owl house oc #owl house #the owl house #eda the owl lady #luz noceda

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crystalelemental · 8 months

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Unit Teambuilding - BP Falkner

Johto gets a BP pair, and it's Falkner and Pidgeot, who should've been Pidgeotto, but whatever I'm kinda done on caring about how dumb this month is. Today is exhausting and not in a good way.

General Overview Flying Tech. Has Atk/Spd Debuffs, so he's a good partner to Lodge Serena in 3v3s. Defog is really fun utility that you don't think about until you need it. Mud Slap leads into his only sync multiplier, a 50% boost for the foe having lowered accuracy, and his trainer move is +2 Sp Atk/Spd, so he's crit reliant.

Needless to say, I don't really respect this one. Flying is hard to shop for, and there are worse options. But he offers very little utility for a Tech.

EX and Move Level? I feel like he'll be Lodge Lillie-esque, in that his sync will suck without it and miss KOs. Move Level wants to be 3/5, I'm sorry you can't get away with just Defog and speed debuffs, that's too sad.

Team 1: BP Falkner, Lodge Serena, BP Janine Falkner's debuffs exactly match Serena's, and his access to Defog means shifting points in CS away from offenses and toward Crit Shield, which he just wipes. This means BP Janine can take hits more reliably as well, allowing her to cap off both Falkner and Serena's offensive stats.

Team 2: BP Falkner, SS Dawn, Anni Skyla If you want Falkner to be your main damage guy, this is a solid comp. Dawn boosts defenses and crit, and with All Ramped Up at 3/5, perfectly completes Falkner. Falkner's Overwhelm improves Dawn's defensive abilities as well. Anni Skyla is here for Zone, and yes, maybe we are assuming she's 1/5 so she's not just better than him at his own game.

Team 3: BP Falkner, Glacia/BP Barry, Ghetsis Okay hear me out. Debuffs speed and attack per hit? That's all Ghetsis needs. Throw in a support that can manage +2 special attack and Ghetsis is throwing down nicely.

Team 4: BP Falkner, SC Jasmine, Clemont Clemont's Cakewalk is more easily set up thanks to Falkner. His Overwhelm also complements Jasmine's special defense buffs, making the team better rounded.

Final Thoughts It's funny. I think of Cakewalk as this ubiquitous skill among the F2P pairs because it's so annoying, but when I need someone to teambuild with I can't remember who has it. Probably because so many are physical. Clemont was the only one. Pecking Order was worse, I can barely remember who has that. I think maybe I'm doing too much in one day and missing ideas.

#unit teambuilding #bp falkner

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chasingfictions · 2 years

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hi i feel like forever is about a lot of things and is also about the limits and constraints and shortcomings and yearnings of the nuclear family structure.....

- like the togetherness of the scoobies as this found family unit, the early scenes especially, everyone having family dinner together, helping with the funeral arrangements

- how that same scene has buffy and dawn reacting to the fact that their father hasn't even called... these two little girls abandoned by their only parent left, that they aren't orphans and yet they are

- how willow: "I'm stopping by my mom's first. Been doing that a lot." // xander: "Yeah. I thought maybe I'd stop by your mom's too. ... Well, I'm not going to my house. Those people are scary"

- how buffy ostensibly has all these people and all this help but she still has to step into this role as dawn's parent when she's just a child who lost her mother too, and she's not ready, and the other scoobies, and also giles, are willing to be there for her especially around the extraordinary time of the burial but the nuclear family as a structure still reigns supreme... how it's these two little girls in this big empty house

- how that's part of dawn not wanting to go back to the house after the burial. how before the burial there were all these people around and then it'll literally just be the two of them, and the quiet

- how this shot REALLY gets to me. that there is found family and there are chosen family structures and also there's not. and also there's just being alone. standing vigil at the graveside of your mother.

- how dawn this whole episode is seeking out family. how spike is seeking it too, how he's processing subconsciously his own loss of his mother through dawn. how the mourning of the nuclear family leads them to find each other in a new form of family

- how it's still not enough. how at the end of the day buffy is still 20 years old and has to become a parent and is all alone. how we don't even see what she does during the second day of the episode. she's just off to her own devices, alone

- how this. this whole thing. buffy devolves, becoming smaller and more childlike

- how buffy and dawn don't have anyone to take care of them. how dawn wants buffy to take care of her and buffy wants to be able to take care of dawn and she can't. how in the end they have to take care of each other. just two little girls, breaking down in each others arms.

- how literally :))) it didn't have to be this way :))) because if giles had his shit together he literally would have moved in :))))))) how he sits at that dining table and they all talk about how their literal father has abandoned them in the wake of their mother's death.... how the scoobies are found family but the scoobies also live in the same society we do, that says the nuclear family is still more real, more valid. how the scoobies can offer support but cant bring it past that.

- how ive always thought the giles listening to the record from band candy was oddly placed in the episode, that it should have been right after the funeral. but actually, i think it makes more sense. because we do get giles earlier in the episode, helping with dinner, with funeral arrangements, picking dawn up from willow's dorm, watching her at the magic box and giving her things to do. but the shot we end with? are left with? is him alone. and that in itself isn't bad, like, he needs time to grieve on his own terms. but it's the way structurally, that shot is placed in between other characters with people. dawn with spike. willow with tara. how it's this staccato scene that almost feels like a blip, that doesn't fit in the rhythms. how giles can't pull into the father role that he is literally, in my opinion, obliged to. because he has so much watchers council repression and reserve baked into him. so much pull-yourself-by-your-bootstraps baggage. how it terrifies him to truly admit he is embroiled in this group of people, because that would mean being a father, and he has never known the concept of fatherhood to truly represent something good .... so he pulls back.

- how the nuclear family becomes a trap and a haunting and an excuse and a holy grail aspiration and becomes two little girls sobbing, holding each other in the doorway of their big empty house, breaking down

#btvs rewatch #btvs meta #btvs script #long post

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sylverstorms · 3 years

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Mother Miranda x Lawyer!Oc ----Tilted Scales

Hello guys :) This is another commission I wrote for the amazing, wonderful @saltwatereulogies

Your support has been insane, I can't thank you enough. Hope you enjoy the story ❣

Three days.

That is how long you've been in the village, after years of studying abroad, before everything turns to shit.

As you slowly blink focus back into your eyes, you try to clear the haze from your mind. It feels as though you've collided with a truck. Your body hurts, your wrists protest in their iron cuffs, stuck to the wall as they are, having supported your weight while you were unconscious.

Desperately, you try to recollect the events that led you here...

A grey sky. A bleak day. One moment you were making coffee for your mother, excited to be able to sit down with her in the mornings again... and the next you heard the echo of screams.

Overcome by adrenaline, you bolted out of your house, only to witness a scene straight from a nightmare; humanoid monsters ripping villagers apart, cries and blood and animalistic growls all blending together into one mad mix.

And before you could even warn your mother...

Damn it all, what the fuck happened!

You suddenly struggle against your bonds, hard enough to rattle your whole frame. Your wrists burn from the grind against metal, but you don't care–

“Stop that. It is pointless and you will only injure yourself.” A cold voice, strangely familiar, says from far to your right.

You peer deep into the shadows, searching for the only other person in the empty room... until you see her. A mask advances on you, gold and shaped like a crow's visage, then wings folded into a cloak come into view.

You would be a fool to not recognize her. The local saint. The village's prophet. The very 'saint' your mother prayed to, for your safe return, all these years. Mother Miranda.

The sound of her heels bounces off the walls until she comes to stand directly in front of you. Looking past the openings of her mask now, you realize....

This isn't possible.

She hasn't aged a day. Not a single day, since you left the village. The years should show around her deadly blue eyes, somewhere, and yet they don't.

“I see you remember me...” she says, while you're still trying to find your voice. “Miss Warren.”

“What is going on? Mother Miranda, what happened to the village?!” you demand.

Her expression shows nothing. “The village is in need of... renovation.” she speaks, even, regal. “Repopulation, even.”

You stare at her with wide eyes.

“Now, don't give me that look. You would not be here if you weren't of the ones I chose to keep.” she continues. “You see, from now on, every single person in my domain will make themselves useful in some way, or they will be replaced. And you... you have been abroad studying law for a while now, yes?”

“I... yes.” you reply, still not fully having wrapped your mind around your situation.

“Excellent. What I need from you is simple. You will make the village independent from the state’s taxes as a religious organization... and you will keep foreign investors out from that point onward.”

What... what part of that is simple?!

“Do that for me and in return I guarantee your mother and you will go back to your house safe and sound. You will have no shortage of Lei for as long as you live, Miss Warren.” Miranda promises.

But it is not the sweet part of the deal your mind stays glued to. “And if...” you gulp. “If I can't work around the law to do that...?”

Miranda blinks slowly at you, like you shouldn't even ask such a basic question. Like the answer is obvious.

“Well. Then I have no further use for either of you.”

It is in this moment that it dawns on you.

This woman is no angel and no saint.

She is a devil.

You spend countless sleepless nights pouring over every single paragraph, every little opening or ambiguity in the law you can use to free the village of taxes.

To keep your mother in the dark about this, you work in the office Mother Miranda has provided for you, in her very stronghold.

Although technically it's her home, you don't see her nearly as much as you initially thought. She is gone throughout the day and returns late at night, not even sparing you a glance before heading for her chambers, at the upper sections of the building.

The days she does come into your office to inquire on your progress are few and far-between, your conversations always short and cold.

This evening is different.

“How is your work coming along, Miss Warren?” the prophetess asks with her aggravatingly nice accent, seating herself like a queen on the chair in front of your desk.

Your eyes are tired, but you force them on hers, through the mask obscuring her face. “I think I've got it. I'll be sending the necessary papers tomorrow and the answer shouldn't take longer than a month.”

“Very good.” she nods, a miniscule curve to her lips.

Icy eyes then drop to the wine in the whiskey glass at the corner of the desk. You think she will make a comment about drinking at work, but instead she says;

“Pour me a glass, will you?”

You will your hands steady as you comply, then carefully slide her drink over.

Miranda takes her mask with claw-shrouded fingers... and soundnessly sets it on the wooden surface. Then she pushes the veil at her hair back, shaking long, platinum locks free.

You do a double take you hope she doesn't notice. Because what the actual fuck.

You didn't think her hair was that long, or that straight, or that it would fall over her shoulders like she's staring in a shampoo ad. You didn't think her lips were shaped like a cupid's bow or that her skin was this flawless and radiant.

The helplessly lesbian part of you could begrudgingly admit she was beautiful before... but now you arrive to the painful realization she's drop-dead gorgeous.

“So. I've heard you won cases others would describe as impossible.” she begins.

“Nothing's impossible. You just need to know where to look.” you reply. Law is your comfort zone and she is not that far above you here. “But how do you know that?”

“I have my sources.”

"Nobody truly leaves this village, huh.”

“Not without my consent, no. But I knew you'd come back.” At your slight frown, she elaborates, “You would never leave your mother behind.”

She's right. There was a whole world of opportunities waiting for you out there and yet... here you are.

“Good work, so far. You can take the next two days off. Your eyes could use the rest, Miss Warren.” Miranda speaks, finishing her wine.

“Sarah.” you say. 'Miss Warren' is for clients and she is your boss.

Miranda's lips give a slight quirk that may or may not be a trick of the light.

“I know.” she replies and exits the room, long hair billowing behind her back.

The taxes were only the first challenge. Now that the village is free of them, investors are flying in circles around it like vultures over meat.

In the meantime, Miranda comes to talk to you more frequently.

Lately, it seems she has more free time. You wish that was a good thing, but...

“So... are you like... going to stay here?” You ask after reading the same sentence five times to make sense of it, because her gaze on you is distracting as fuck.

“I'm not getting in the way of your work.” she says. You want to argue she is, but can't quite do that in a way that won't get you killed.

“I'm simply not used to working with company. Isn't this boring for you?”

“No, actually. I find it interesting, even though science is my field of expertise.” she answers. “And the way you take notes is… amusing.”

You try not to blush as you look down at your notebook, filled with different colored markers and post-it squares with tiny stick figures pointing to the more important paragraphs. You have been doing this for so long to sort out information you didn't even realize you were keeping it up in her presence.

“What is this supposed to be?” she asks with a small smile, the first of its kind you've seen.

To your horror, her clawed pointer aims at a particularly silly doodle, barely the size of a pencil's eraser.

“A... bird.” you grimace like you've been stabbed.

“Ah, of course.” Miranda holds back a chuckle but you can tell she's dying to make a comment.

Studying becomes hell for the rest of the time she's there with you, those sharp eyes picking apart every little move you make. At the same time, though, the hours you spend with her make you realize...

She's not a saint, though she may look like one. She's not completely a devil, either, even if she may act as one, at times.

She's human.

Miranda shares nothing about herself when you chat, but she seems to like it when you speak about your time abroad and all the things that left an impression on you there.

Your conversation over wine is cut short, however, when you receive a call from a number you learned means nothing but trouble, lately.

“Sorry, I have to take this.” you tell her.

The one calling you is none other than this month's rival lawyer, trying to dispute your claim over the land for his own boss. He's lost to you before, so it's also personal, but you are confident you have cornered them good with the latest papers you sent them...

And you are proven correct, when, a few seconds later, he is all faux polite on the other line, resorting to offering you money for you to withdraw your arguments.

Miranda comes to stand next to you, listening in to what he's saying.

The problem with that is, the second her arm brushes yours and you catch a whiff of her perfume –which always lingers in your office long after she's left— youare the one who stops listening to him.

Your attention flies to other things, like the inches she has on you, the exact color of her pale blonde hair, the little glint of victory in her stunning eyes.

Oh, no. God, no...

You know what this is, the feeling in the pit of your stomach. Alarm bells go off in the back of your head, as though your own mind is telling your body how foolish it's being.

There isn't a worse thing you can do to yourself than be attracted to Miranda.

Over time, familiarity with the prophetess brings higher levels of difficulty into your 'try to ignore your crush on her' game.

Miranda joins your side and leans over your shoulder, sometimes, to peer down at what you're doing. You don't move and don't breathe until she's within a safe distance again.

Then there are the wayward 'reward' touches, when you turn another investor away from the village. She may pat your back or leave her hand on your shoulder, or even scratch your nape with her claws as a job well done.

You hope your poker face hides the fact you feel her touch on you for far longer than you should, after she's gone.

Tonight, the situation is the toughest it's ever been for you.

There is a rainstorm going on outside; the waterdrops are tapping against the windows of your office as though they're trying to break it. Miranda has pulled her chair next to you so you can talk easier, without having to shout over the cacophony.

“And basically the judge's decision was that—”

You are interrupted by a blinding flash of lighting, during which your mind lets you know the stronghold is easily the tallest structure in it's vicinity—

When thunder cracks down the sky and strikes the building, you nearly scream. Your body tenses and you jump; but Miranda's hands come to your biceps and hold you steady, against herself and your desk.

Another flash comes before you really have time to think about your proximity. She covers your ears with her palms before the thunderclap can send you into overdrive again.

“You are with me and you're scared of a little thunder?” she teases when things quiet down and your heartbeat eases.

It's true; Miranda is the more terrifying force of nature. At the same time, however...

You feel oddly safe to be this close to her.

“Well... I'm not scared right now...” you quietly admit.

Her pointer comes underneath your chin and lifts it so you are looking straight into her hypnotic blue eyes. How is this color even real...

“And why is that?” Miranda asks, her wings coming around you both. They're curtains of black, cutting out some of the storm's sounds.

You want nothing more in this moment than to run your fingers through each individual feather.

You lick your lips. That's...not a question you can answer if you want the balance in your arrangement with her to remain.

Perhaps, though, the scales have tilted for you long ago. You just haven't been brave enough to admit it.

You have the courage to face it now when she leans down and covers your lips with hers, warm in a manner you never imagined she could be.

Her wings pull tighter around you and your mouths slide more firmly together. Lipbalm and creamy lipstick mix, tongues brush, tasting of wine. You are shaking so bad on the inside from how much you want this, more of this, the rumbling of the thunder be damned.

Miranda's palm cups your flaming cheek when she pulls back, perfectly composed and staring at you with a little smirk in place.

You dare to turn a little, lay a tiny kiss on the inside of her wrist, beyond her rings and accessories.

You aren't very fond of storms, but...

You willingly walk right into the eye of this one.

#mother miranda x oc #mother miranda #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #fanfiction #creative writing #commission #thank you so much :')

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kadwrites · 3 years

Text

faith - T.S

summary ; tommy believes , soulmate!au warnings ; none word count ; 1564 a\n ; this was requested by @wowjeena , i hope that you like this!! , thank you all for the support!! <3 , btw , there is a quote from a wife of soldier who was in ww1 . also , I didn't proof read this so please go easy on me. enjoy!.

the concept of soulmates was never a concept the tommy understood , let alone believe. destiny and fate are things that tommy despises , your life doesn’t control you , you control your life , at least thats what he thought.

for years , he went out of his way to mock destiny , to mock the thought of something that is definite , nothing is definite to him , except death.

but when all hell broke lose, when he was stuck in a place the he does not know , seeing people die day after day, he longed for something that would comfort him. though his disbelief in fate in the past was a mere feeling he used to believe , deep down, that maybe it is true but now he is confident , that a definite fate , a definite path , is not something that exists , it is an illusion and a lie that people tell themselves when they loose control.

he rests his head on the pile of dirt behind him , he opens his eyes and they drift to the tunnel that he dug , the tunnel that he will crawl in at dawn and fill with as much bombs as he could and try to survive whatever that will come after. he swallows and closes his eyes again. his body is numb , his head feels heavy .

his eyebrows furrow when he feels little tingles on his arm , as if someone is touching him , he lifts the sleeve of his shirt and sees words forming on his arm , the words get erased and rewritten , as if whoever is writing them, is hesitant.

“all i can do is hope “ it gets erased and then new words appear “hope for you to live , hope for me to meet you , even if only once”

his eyes stare at the words written on his forearm , his heart clenches when he rereads them , he feels a weird feeling of heaviness weighing on his heart. his fingers ghost over the letters , this is the first time that this happens to him

“i don’t know where you are ,i don’t know what is happening to you , but i beg you to not give up.”

all the tommy can think of right now is that somewhere back home, someone is waiting for him , someone is praying for him , even though they haven’t met him.

he scribbles something with his finger , and letters appear as if he is writing a pen.

“you don’t know me”

he watched the words fade away

“i don’t have to”

he swallows again , he doesn’t want to close his eyes , afraid that the words would disappear , and his last piece of hope , would be gone.

"i believe in you"

his eyes water , his lips are trembling slightly , he closes his eye and rests his head back , the tears flow slowly. he covers his arm with his sleeve, his eyes refuse to fall on his arm.

when it all ended , when tommy finally came home , nothing changed. the emptiness inside him didn't change , his heart is still hallow.

when he woke up in the middle of the night , months after coming back home , his body is covered in sweat , he is shaking , he wipes his face with his hands and sets on the edge of the bed. his legs feel weak , he reaches for his cigarettes on his bed side table and lights them with a trembling hand. he covers his face with his hand ,his heart is still pounding

then he fills a tingle on his arm, again. his eye open , he quickly rolls his sleeve

"i'm so sorry"

his eyebrows knit

"for what?"

"the nightmare"

he tilts his head in confusion, how could she possibly know?

"i'm sorry that i can't help you , but hopefully it'll pass"

tommy's eyes shut , his shaky hands rub at his face , because he know that it won't , he knows that whatever wounds the war caused , won't heal.

"have faith"

his nose flares in frustration , he doesn't know why

"faith in what ? god?"

"faith in yourself , in your strength."

his widen a little , his hands trace over the letters , again. he is left somewhat speechless. he doesn't know what to say or what to do.

"goodnight"

he takes a deep breath , his hands rub at the place where the words were. his eyes are misty

this night was unforgettable to him .for days , this was the only thing that he thought about , it kept him busy .

his he shoved his hands in his pocket as he walked in the sideway, his mind is replaying the events of that night , his lifts his head and his eyes wander to the busy street for a little bit and then settle on someone in the crowd, a woman , she looks tommys way and her eyes widen ,she freezes. tommys looks at her unblinking , he feels as if he knows her , he feels an urge to go to her , but then she looks away and enters a house nearby in a rush , as if she was running.

a part of him tells him that he is seeing things , that he finally went mad. but the other part says 'you know who that is , you know what that means'. he never listens to that half.

he enters the house , he is still thinking about what happened. he sees polly sitting in the kitchen , a cup of tea in her hands

"come here , i feel like we need to talk" she says , eyes meeting his, her gaze softened.

he sits quietly as she pours for him a cup of tea

"whats the matter?"

he sips the tea slowly , she waited for him to answer her

"i don't know what you're talking about" , his voice is a little raspy , it's clear to polly that he hasn't slept well , if at all.

"what happened , i know something happened so don't even try lying to me",

"do you believe is soulmates , polly?" he asks casually , he then sips from his cup again

her eyebrows arch and she smiles a little knowing smile, she sits her cup at the table and gives tommy her full attention

"i do."

"i don't"

she tilts her head , she studies his face for a moment before speaking "i know , you used to not believe in soulmates"

"i still don't"

"you're lying" she says softly , still looking at him.

"i don't want to believe"

"you're still lying"

he shoots her a quizzical look

"you want to believe , don't you?" she stays silent for a second "you are just too proud to admit , even to yourself"

his mouth opens and closes

"i think i saw her"

"you think?"

"no i.." he looks at her "i saw her"

"then why are you so confused tom?"

he doesn't answer her , instead he finishes is cup and then thanks her for it and heads outside.

he leans on the wall of the house , he doesn't know he's been here , but its dark outside now.

he stares at his arms, then at his car , the scene of her running into that small house plaguing his mind.

he opens the door of the car and then stops , mulling over the thought one more time , but he shakes the hesitation away.

he gets in the car and turns it and drives to the same street . looking around , trying to remember what the house looked like.

he spots a house and drives to it, he squints at it , and then he leans back on his seat. he reaches for his cigarettes and lights one , he looks at one of the windows .

he gets out of the car and knocks on the door, he waits for a minute . the door doesn't open. he looks at the house on more , deciding that this was a terrible ideal. tommy turns and heads to his car and then he hears the front door squeak , he stopts mid-step, truns around slowly and finally faces the door again. he sees a girl , but not the one he saw today. he almost walked away again but he saw another girl coming and placing a hand on the other one's shoulder, the girl who he assumes is her sister , points at tommy and their eyes meet , again.

she froze for a moment before she taps her sister back and tells her to go inside , she garbs a coat from the coat hanger and gets out , closing the door behind her.

tommy is silent , all he could do is stare. his gaze roaming her face , scared that she might run away and go inside again.

"came right to my door" she smiled at him "didn't know that visiting people at night is on your agenda"

"it always is, but the people aren't usually as pretty as you" he smirks at her, then he offers her a cigarette

she rises her brow at his comment a small smile playing at her lips

"i don't smoke."

"shame."

"why are you here?"

"you know, i used to not believe in this" he gestures at the both of them

"what changed?" she whispers.

she is afraid, afraid that maybe he will reject her , to tell her that he tell her to go inside and forget about him , the writings , everything.

"i have faith now" he smiles gently.

she feels warmth flooding her at the sight , her eyes sparkle and she feels herself smiling back at him .

#kadwrites #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders imagine

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onceupona-chaos · 3 years

Text

Feathers and dawn (part II)

Day 18 of Elriel month/ Teach me how to fly

You can read part I here.

"Spread your wings."

The moment Elain opened her wings, the cold, impetuous wind hit them, and the full impact made her lose balance, almost falling backwards. Instead, she met Azriel's chest, his hands tightened on her waist, and her body went cold and hot all at once.

This time Elain did stop breathing.

WC: 4164/ Warnings: Language

(I had so much fun writing this! As usual, sorry for any mistakes, English is not my first language. Sorry for any typos as well, but I can't look at it anymore lol)

Elain had held that light inside of her with everything she got, and even so it came close to controlling her rather than the other way around.

She still could feel it, not the light that shone so bright to blind someone's eyes, but more like a gracious flame of a candle in her chest. But that was nothing compared to how the muscles on her back burned.

When her eyes cracked open, she was half expectant that all of it had been a delirious dream or one of those visions that still hunted her from time to time. But then she tried to move to a sit position, and a scream escaped from her throat at the very, very real pain punishing her upper body.

Her entire back was sore, and she could feel a complex extension of muscles - from her neck to the end of her spine - that was now linked to two massive weights coming out of her shoulder blades.

Excruciating, blinding pain.

Elain didn't notice the tears falling down her cheeks, couldn't even hear the sounds coming out of her own mouth.

Strong, calloused hands were pushing her hair away from her sweaty forehead a second later, and then Azriel’s beautiful face was there.

He was like a hiding spot in the middle of a storm, anchoring her from her agony, even though his expression was contorted in worry.

Azriel's eyes were wild, lips forming her name, but she couldn't hear a sound. Pain was all she knew, making her senses numbed.

Black dots started to dance in front of her eyes, her head getting light, and hazel ones full of terror was the last thing she saw before the world bleed into darkness again.

_______________

The next time Elain emerged to consciousness, first she smelled the leafy odor of salvia. Then the feeling of gentle, experienced hands massaged the line of her spine while she was lying on her stomach.

Heavy eyelids opened to the Velaris sunset, shades of pink and purple coloring the blue sky were visible through the familiar floor to ceiling windows, making her recognize her room in the river house.

Elain caught a movement from the corner of her eyes, and she inclined her head slightly to see Azriel, kneeling beside her bed, worry still printed in his face, but his eyes filled with relief now.

His hair was in complete disarray, the dark locks pointed in different directions as if he had run his hands through it repeatedly.

“You’re awake,” he breathed.

Those hands, unfamiliar hands, were still rubbing her exposed back, the gentle touch soothing the pain.

“That’s Majda, she’s almost finishing.” Azriel must have sensed her confusion. “How’s the pain?”

Her mouth was dry and it was an effort just to make words come out of it. “Tolerable” she said, voice raw.

He just nodded and then they fell in a comfortable silence. It was always like this with him - no need for empty words.

Azriel just stayed there in his vigil, shadows curling around his ankles, watching her with those familiar hazel eyes. Not the blazing gold of Cassian's, but rather an embrace shared between warm brown and stark gray, with hues of emerald green that would stand out according to his mood.

Eyes as complex as Azriel's himself, candidly observing her whilst Majda worked, her hands putting the exact amount of pressure to soothe her muscles, the salvia tuning the sharp pain into a dull ache. She didn't touch Elain's wings.

Wings.

Even with their weights on her back, even with the feeling of that warm power in her chest, Elain still was prone to believe it all had been a dream if it wasn't for the pain.

When Majda finished the healing massage, she merely told them she'd come back the next few days to do it again.

The bedroom’s door clicked shut, and Elain was already trying to get up, Azriel immediately protesting, "You should stay in bed.”

"I want to see them" was her only reply. She needed to see, to look at them. To know they were real.

"Your muscles aren't strong enough to support the new weight -"

Indeed, when she tried to stand, her balance wavered and she toppled forward.

Azriel caught her before she could fall on her face, hauling her up. Gently, one of his hands passed behind her knees, the other around her waist, and he scooped her up.

Elain let her head fall against his chest, breathing his scent as he walked through the room. A few moments later, far more than was necessary to reach her mirror, he put her down, but remained close.

She didn't see her pale face or even care about the fact that she was wearing nothing, but a nightgown that reached the middle of her thighs. Not when two massive wings rested on the floor behind her, the soft, white feathers touching the carpet.

Elain turned around to see her back, to see the point where the skin ended and the feathering began.

They were beautiful.

But she never had felt more unworthy of something. She couldn’t even hold them up, couldn't even lift them from the ground. It had been so exhausting spent months trapped in that murky realm, visions blending together with reality, that she hadn’t want find out what else the Cauldron had given her, hadn't want to touch that flame burning in her chest, not when her own body felt foreign and now -

Only when she felt tears dripping onto her chest, Elain realized she was crying, exhaustion falling upon her as a blanket, covering her to the bones.

She stood there for enough time that the next time Azriel spoke, she had almost forgotten he was there.

Almost.

Because she always seemed to sense whenever he was around.

"I will teach you everything."

It didn't sound like an offer at all. His words were a promise.

Slowly she turned from the mirror to face him - and nearly sobbed at how lovely and fiercely his eyes were, almost shining with sheer compassion.

Compassion for her, yes. But also for an Illyrian boy who didn't know how to fly, who found himself all alone in a war camp long ago. "I'll be with you and I'll teach you everything."

She didn’t know what to say, what to make of everything. So Elain only took his hand, interlacing their fingers and squeezing firmly.

But then, a thought struck her. "Truth-Teller," she gasped.

A smile curved his lips. "It's with me," he said. "I went back to the Cave. Turns out, without the Orb, the wards were gone."

Relief washed over her. And guilty.

"I'm sorry. I should - ."

Before she could finish her sentence, Elain was again in his arms. Azriel chuckled, but hadn't missed how heavy her eyelids were getting. "Not your fault. You weren't exactly in position to remember it," he said while gently carrying her back to bed.

But before he could lay down the mattress, he stopped by the side of the bed, and turned to look at her. Every ounce of amusement gone.

"I thought…" his words died and he shook his head.

No trace of that mask he so often used, no sign of his usually neutral expression.

The look on his face was Azriel in his most raw state. And she could see it.

I thought I had lost you.

She wished she wasn't so tired as she buried her face in the crook of his neck and breathed, "I know."

He nodded. He understood.

He murmured as he lay her in the bed, "Sleep. I still owe Nesta an explanation."

Elain smiled sleepily, and mumbled, "Good luck."

Just when darkness came to claim her once again, Elain felt the ghost touch of a light kiss in her temple and the smell of mist and cedar. ___________

The next day, Elain was sitting at her usual spot by the window of the living room in the river house, the Orb laying on a desk right in the center of the room. What was unusual, however, was the many pairs of eyes glued to her.

Cassian's jaw was still on the floor by the time Amren, the last one to arrive, entered the room. Even her face went a bit slack when she took in the wings and some emotion sparkled in her silver eyes.

Elain tried not to blush, but all that attention wasn't helping.

Although Feyre had helped her before to retract and summon her wings, which she was grateful for, Elain didn't want to summon them in front of everyone, so she decided to just get straight to the point.

She didn’t know how Azriel explained what had happened to the others, especially to Nesta. But given the look on her face fixed on Rhysand and on the spymaster, a perfect I Will Slay My Enemies look, according to Cassian, Elain wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

But as for now Azriel just held her sister's gaze, his face neutral.

"So…" Cassian began, waving a hand towards her wings. "What the hell?"

"I think what he's trying to ask you is," Nesta gave a look at her mate. "Where did those come from?"

Elain took a deep breath. "Well..." She bit her lip, trying to choose her words in order to make sense. "After I found out what I was, I've never accessed the full extension of my powers. I knew the Cauldron had given me something else,something more, but I didn't want to find out what it was."

Rhysand asked, "Why."

"Because I was too scared," She replied honestly. That was all she could say. She didn't want to, didn't know if she could relive those days when she couldn't tell reality and dreams apart.

She glimpsed at Azriel, who was at the corner of the room, sorrow shining on his face while he gave her a reassurance nod.

"So when I grabbed the Orb, it… whatever powers I have just grumbled in answer, as if they were the same… they came to the surface. It tried to stop them, push them back, to let go of the Orb, but I couldn't… it trapped me"

"That's because they are the same," Amren said. As soon as the words left her mouth, Elain understood what lay on her eyes: recognition.

"What wicked sort of plans the Cauldron may have for the three of you," Amren went on, nodding to Elain and her sisters.

"Amren," Rhysand said, the voice of the High Lord. "If you know something, just tell us."

The petite female gave him a hard look, before turning to Elain. "The Cauldron didn't make you any Seer." Amren tilted her head, studied Elain. "He also happened to make you an Oracle." Her eyes were practically two blazing stars, and Elain had to fight a shiver, before asking "An Oracle?"

"That 's right, girl."

"What's the difference?" Nesta demanded.

"A different group of Seers… powerful ones", Rhysand murmured, running a hand through his hair. "I thought they were just a myth."

"They were as real as you and me, Rhysand," Amren said, shaking her head.

It was Feyre's time to demand, "Someone please explain."

"Before the High Lords, there was a time where this world lived in complete, unshakable peace," Amren began. "The Oracles were the great responsibles for this time of harmony, a group of Seers who used to celebrate life and pulled the threads of Fate. They travel through words just like we travel between courts, using their Seer powers to See and manipulate the future to their will… to prevent any cause of conflict before it even became a conflict. Subtle, swift creatures those females"

Elain wasn't sure if anyone in the room was breathing.

Azriel asked quietly, "How did they disappear?"

"No one truly knows." Rhysand answered. "The legends don't go that far."

"Common Seers have the gift of sight, but it's limited in its own way," Amren explained. "Oracles, however, have other sort powers as well and they can see further in the future, no matter how distant."

There was one question in Elain's mind, essencial and terrifying. "What is my power?"

Amren's smile was a thing of pure wickedness. "I guess you'll have to find out."

"But why the wings?" Nesta asked, brows furrowed.

Amren eyes softened a little. "Some claimed some of them heritaged from an unknown race of warriors. But not every one of them had wings. If you were blessed with them, they would call you the Leader. The others would fly on their winged horses by her side, travelling through the world and maintaining their balance."

Elain's head was spinning. "But what about the Orb?"

"I might have an idea, but I'll need to do some research in the Helion's libraries first." Rhysand shot his mate a look, his lips curving. "Care to join?"

Feyre only rolled her eyes.

Cassian let out a long breath. "So you're telling me Elain could see if a war is truly coming and stop it before it even begins."

A sick feeling gathered on her stomach, and she blurted, "No."

Silence.

"No what?" Amren asked thighly.

"No, I won't use my powers to play with Fate." She couldn't help the edge of rage in her words. "Espeacilly not when Fate itself had been playing with me all along."

Silence fell.

"You're right," Feyre offered at last, her voice soft. "It's your choice."

Gratitude washed over Elain.

"I want to learn how to fly, though" she blurted, glancing at Azriel, who was already smiling.

Feyre looked between them. "You'll find Azriel has… harsh methods, but they are quite efficient."

Rhysand, who had been just observing, suggested, "Maybe you, Feyre darling, can teach Elain, too."

"I will train her." Azriel's words were practically a snarl, challenge filling every one of them.

Elain looked at the shadows gathering around him as he stared at Rhysand, who just narrowed his eyes back. Strange.

"I'm sure Azriel is the better option to teach Elain, he was the one who taught me after all." Feyre was looking pointly at her mate. "But I can participate in a few lessons when they get tired of training alone." She said looking at Elain, eyes shining bright with an edge of mischief.

Elain ignored that.

"You'll have to build some muscles, you know that, right?" Cassian asked.

Muscles. It wasn't that Elain was opposed to that, but… she couldn't see herself as a warrior like her sisters. Surely, she wouldn't mind learning one thing or two, but...

"I'll help you."

Elain turned to her older sister, with raised brows. "I don't…"

"You don't have to learn how to use a sword, but I can help with your core muscles," Nesta offered.

Then, Elain couldn't stop the warmth in her chest - not from that source of power, but from pure gratitude. "Thank you."

Amren shocked her head and huffled a breath, edged with amusement, making Elain's brows furrow at that.

"A Made, reborn Fae and a Valkyrie training a new Oracle." Her lips curved in a feral smile. "Three Cauldron-blessed sisters, indeed."

Elain didn't have to use the Orb to know Fate had listened to Amren's words.

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

"Shit."

Azriel's curse hit Elain's ears, before her arm hit the rock as she fell on her face right into the lake.

They had been training for weeks now. At first, it was more about how to summon her wings and keep them up instead of resting on the ground.

Sometimes Feyre would join them, or even Nuala and Cerridwen made an appearance for what Cerridwen called "emotional support".

Which means they watched as Elain jumped just to fall right into that gods-damned lake and tried not to laugh. Cerridwen often failed spectacularly at that.

But after one particularly hard training lesson that ended up with more bruises Elain would care to admit, especially to her pride, Cerridwen had come to her room with a gift: a brand new and very pink apron with a winged fawn carefully embroidered at the front, the chain stitches meticulous done.

It was the most ridiculous apron Elain had ever seen - and she wore every chance she got with a stupid smile on her face.

But most of the time it was only Azriel and her. First they would stick to training, and she was able to focus only on the lessons. Until one day they had sat side by side at the shore, talking about everything and nothing, and, gods, she had missed him.

But then she felt that ravenous pull towards him and had to look away, before she could do something stupid again - and just like that she remembered why they had kept their distance in the first place.

She knew he desired her just as she desired him. She had seen the longing in his face, and had smelled his scent that night, darker than usual. Had read the hunger shining in his eyes as he looked at her.

But she had crossed a line he didn't want to cross.

Good thing now she had other things to worry about. Like ignoring the pain in her left arm, finding her way to the surface to get the hell out of that chilling lake.

But before she could do any of those things, Elain found herself looking at the sky and then the ground was beneath her.

And a very, very shirtless Azriel was by her side. "Are you alright?" he asked, wrapping his tunic around her shoulders, scanning for injuries.

Even with her teeth almost chattering off her mouth from the cold, Elain couldn't help but take one good look at his muscled chest, those intricate tattoos on display and she felt her face heating. Not from embarrassment, but from pure desire that was pounding in her blood, traveling through her body. All she wanted in that moment, and so many before that, was to touch him, taste him. Be with him, by his side.

She imagined what would be like to have that powerful body hovering over hers.

Then she blushed a bit at those thoughts, too.

"I"m fine," she blurted after a considerable time, enough to make Azriel blush as well. And make her consider throwing herself at the lake again.

To distract herself, Elain closed her eyes and accessed that flame in her chest, letting it shine bright inside her, waves of heat running through her veins and bones until she was no longer cold.

When she looked at Azriel, he was already watching her. He cleaned his throat. "You kept yourself on the air longer this time."

Elain raised an eyebrow, "I fell on the only rock in this entire river."

A gleam shone in his eyes.

Elain narrowed hers at him.

"Are you trying not to laugh?"

"No," he said, clapping his lips together.

Every pound of desire in her blood died. "You said it wasn't funny anymore after the first four times!"

At that, Azriel tipped his head back and busted out such a rich laugh, that even Elain couldn't stop the small smile on her own lips. "You are a terrible teacher."

Except that he wasn't. Azriel was patient and thoughtful. He had refused to let her practice anywhere but the lake, and when she said she didn't need to be coddled and could practice on land, he had scanned her face, so many emotions passing across his, and told her he wouldn't see her getting hurt.

So they practice on the lake. Every day.

That was weeks ago and Elain was starting to think she would never take to the skies. She still couldn't sustain herself on the air for more than a few seconds.

"What is it like? To fly, I mean." she asked, eyes fixing on the lake before her.

She felt Azriel's eyes on her. "It 's freedom." Truth echoed in his words.

Elain nodded to herself. "I can hear the wind calling me." Her wing ruffled as if in emphasis."I can feel every muscle in my body begging me to jump out of the windows and it just… it's getting harder to ignore."

Elain tried to stop the burning in her eyes, her voice was broken when she breathed, "Why me, if I can't even get close to being airborne for more than five seconds?"

Azriel kept silent for so long, she didn't know if he heard her, but she was too much of a coward to look at him. Didn't want to look at him, not like this, not again.

But then gentle fingers found her chin and slowly turned her head to meet hazel eyes shining bright as the sun above them.

"Come with me."

Next thing she knew she was taking his extended hand and he shot to the skies, his tunic flying from her shoulders while she was being cradled against his bare chest.

Even though he was made of muscles hard as rock, his skin was warm and soft as the finest velvet.

Azriel landed right on the top of one of the highest mountains surrounding Velaris, the city bursting with life so far below that it seemed one of Nyx's toys.

And Elain almost stopped breathing. "Are you going to push me?"

Azriel chuckled, but didn't answer. "Turn around and close your eyes."

"So you definitely are going to push me," she murmured, but did as she was told.

She didn't know what she was expecting, but it wasn't Azriel's large hands on her waist or the warmth of his body behind her.

"Spread your wings."

The moment Elain opened her wings, the cold, impetuous wind hit them, and the full impact made her lose balance, almost falling backwards. Instead, she met Azriel's chest and his hands tightened on her.

This time Elain did stop breathing.

Especially when Azriel's breath caressed the

shell of her ear. "Focus on the wind passing through your wings, how each feather answers to it. Try to understand its direction, its temperature."

So she did. And she could feel it. She could feel the most external layer of feathers absorbing the temperature impact of the icy wind. Could feel the most little plumes, so sensitive they could perceive the slight change in any air current direction.

She became aware of everything around her. But mostly of the heat emanating from Azriel's body on her back, of his thumbs now drawing small circles on her sides.

"When I was a boy, I used to think the same thing as you do now," he whispered. "I was locked away and had to suppress so many instincts…" He let out a breath. "These wings are yours and only yours, you command them. It might take some time, but you will fly and control your powers. Be patient. You can do whatever you want, Elain."

It was his words, the meaning. He believed in her, had always believed in her.It was that certainty that had her leaning into his touch.

She folded in her wings and tilted her head, slowly opening her eyes to find his beautiful face inches from hers, close enough for her to see the hues of green in his eyes.

"Thank you," she breathed.

Azriel said nothing. No, he just let every word shine in his gaze as he leaned down and brushed his nose against hers while his thumbs were still caressing her sides leisurely.

She sucked in a breath, eyes falling close as she lost herself at the pure intimacy of that touch. Elain's whole body went molten and she wanted nothing more than to melt against his chest.

But she couldn't cross that line again.

So she pulled back, just enough to look at his face and made herself say, "I think Nesta is waiting for me."

Shadows darkened his hazel eyes. "Right."

On their way to the House of Wind, she thought Azriel would keep silent but he surprised her when he said quietly, "Nuala and Cerridwen never told me you were training with them."

Despite everything, a faint smile curved Elain's lips. "You can't expect to know everyone secrets."

He lifted an eyebrow. "That's my job."

And Nuala and Cerridwen's, too.

"I don't want to be a warrior," Elain blurted. "But… maybe I can use my gifts - my sight gifts, I mean - to..."

A whisper of those shadows still filled his gaze, but Azriel gave her a small smile. "Like spying?"

Elain blushed. "Perhaps."

"You'd make a good spy, but you have to be patient."

Elain looked at him. At that male who had intrigued her and made her feel comfortable and safe from the very beginning. At that male who found her when no one else would, who had seen her. Had truly seen her.

No, she wouldn't cross that line now, but...

"I can be patient, Azriel," she breathed. Promised.

This time, hope shone so brightly in his hazel eyes that no room was left for shadows.

#elriel #elriel fanfic #elriel fic #elriel month #azriel x elain #elain x azriel #elrielmonth

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