#queue-t healer

[mr-nicegirl]

being into asmr from the JUMP like since before it was even called asmr (whispering community og) and seeing it evolve over time has been so rewarding but that means i simultaneously love innovation but still miss the treasured lack of 'perfection' ergo meaning i LOVE let's player asmr #gamers which is still suprisingly underrated/underdeveloped but my aboslute fave FAVE niche within the gaming asmr content is WoW asmr which is like. ok i get it. tony bamboni did it a couplerrr times and it was suprisingly good / excellent bc the LOUD asf laptop fan whirring in the bg of his recordings have always been so good but my especially fave is like. random ass channels under 2k subs posting regular wow asmr content like i've found only a couple and most of them are #gerls and #europeans strangely enough. which begs the quastion. why's wow so popular with the girlies over there ?also are any of them single? and gay???

[bat-boys]

a healer's touch

pairing: Azriel x fem reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: mentions of injury and blood, a small amount of angst, lots of fluff

summary: as a healer you meet many people as part of your profession but when you are asked to heal a certain spymaster you are unprepared for the connection that comes with it.

a/n: hello, I'm new here! I had this in my head so needed to write to down. I hope you enjoy.

It had been a regular, if somewhat busy, morning at the healer's centre in Velaris. There had been a steady queue of people coming in and out to collect medicine, ask about a rash that concerned them or even pop in to express their thanks for healing a family member. You hummed a soft, familiar tune as you mixed herbs to create a salve for one of your regular patients whose old, aching bones continuously bothered them. 

It was days like this that reminded you of why you loved being a healer so much.

"Girl! Come with me. We're needed at the House of Wind." The calmness that had settled over the room was banished as Madja, the head healer, your mentor and distant aunt on your mother's side, bustled into the workroom to grab her box of salves, potions and herbs she kept on hand for moments like this.

"T-the House of Wind?" You squeaked as you set down your mortar and pestle, absentmindedly brushing your suddenly sweaty hands on your apron. 

"Yes," Madja sighed, "I curse the day I gave Rhysand permission to call for me personally anytime any of his friends get themselves into trouble." The words may have been harsh, but there was a warm fondness to her tone, and you knew she fussed over the Inner Circle like they were her own children.

"But me? Are you sure?" You may have been apprenticing under Madja for nearly a century at this point, but she, your peers, and the people of Velaris consider you a skilled healer in your own right. However, this was new and somewhat scary. You had never set foot into the House of Wind and barely interacted with the Inner Circle, whom you revered and respected for the future they were building across Prythian. You knew it was irrational, but you were terrified of attending to them and your healer skills fleeing at the very moment you needed them most. 

Madja stopped fussing and turned towards you, understanding flickering across her features as she took in your hands, wringing nervously in front of you. 

"Y/N, you are my best student, my successor - you are ready for this." Her voice was firm in her conviction, but her smile was soft as she fondly brushed a stray strand of hair clinging to your sweaty forehead, "Now come, get your things; I dread to think what they've gotten up to up there!"

The following five minutes passed in a blur as you shucked off your apron, grabbed your bag similar to the one Madja carried and met the two Illyrian lieutenants who bundled you up in their arms and flew you to the House. 

From the entryway alone, you knew the House of Wind was the most beautiful home you had ever stepped foot in. Madja chuckled beside you and didn't give you time to appreciate the room's beauty before she walked ahead of you and gestured for you to follow. Your heart was thumping rapidly in your chest as you swung your head from left to right and walked through the lovely hallways, trying to capture every ornate detail that decorated the walls. You must have been staring wide-eyed because Madja gently bumped her shoulder into yours, reminding you to remain professional. 

It wasn't long before she led you up a series of stairs and stepped outside into the sun's warm rays. For a moment, you let your head tip back slightly, closing your eyes to let the rays dance along your face. Down in the city, you very rarely got to feel the sun on your skin like this. There was always the long shadow of a building to obscure the sun, or you were simply too busy rushing from patient to patient to fully enjoy it. 

You used the moment to centre yourself, reminding yourself of your extensive training and ability and capability to heal almost any wound. You were the head healer-in-training, and you could do this.  You let your eyes adjust to the scene before you as you took in the outside training centre. The floor was covered in what you assumed was red dust, coating the hem of your dress and clinging to the brown leather of your slippers. Racks of weapons lined the walls, a ring was set up in the centre clearly for sparring, and ropes and punch bags were littered across the space, too. You could see that the training session was still ongoing, and you could hear people shouting suggestions to each other over the sound of swords clashing, but your attention snagged on the two males you saw grumbling next to each other. You knew who they were immediately and swallowed thickly as you realised it was them you had been summoned to heal. 

"What trouble have you two found yourself in now?" Madja called as she walked towards the pair of them. 

"It isn't our fault!" The one you immediately recognised as Cassian exclaimed.

"It never is." Madja teased back.

"We saw the guards in the Summer Court using a new training technique, and we decided to try it out…it didn't go well." 

"Evidently not. You tend to Azriel, I'll take this one." Madja sighed, already moving away from you to deal with Cassian. 

You faintly heard Cassian make a witty comment behind you before it was cut off with a hiss as Madja laid a hand on the cut slicing his chest. However, you were distracted as you turned to face the other Illyrian sporting a nasty injury, and made direct eye contact with those beautiful, disconcerting, ice-cold hazel eyes. Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you made your way over to him, your heart slamming into your chest.

"Hi, I'm Y/N." You cursed yourself for sounding breathless and for the blush that no doubt was creeping up your neck.

"I'm Azriel." His deep baritone voice sent a shiver of delight down your spine and knocked the rest of your breath from you. 

"I know." You smiled at him, and he smiled very faintly back, a soft huff leaving his lips as you set your bag down and reached out your hand to him, "May I take a look?"

Early on in your training, you discovered that if your patient was conscious and capable of answering questions, you would ask consent to touch them and walk them through anything you were about to do. You found this calmed them down and created a sense of trust.

Azriel blinked at the question, not used to someone with such a soft demeanour looking after him. He didn't respond but simply extended his arm towards you. Gently, like he could bolt at any moment, you held his wrist in your hand and slowly tilted his arm to get a look at the gash you could see through his leathers. 

A soft hum escaped your lips as you saw the slash in his leathers and the blood leaking through the cut to his skin. It didn't look too deep but would undoubtedly need healing if he needed to use any of his weapons anytime soon. 

"I'm going to remove your leathers. Is that ok?" You asked, forcing yourself to make eye contact with him again, ready for the way his gaze knocked the breath out of you again. He simply nodded, and you smiled at him before you bent your head back to the task at hand. 

Azriel barely breathed as he watched you unbuckle the strap at his wrists and then push the leathers off his arm. He had never experienced such softness from a healer or anyone before. He allowed himself to look at you, to let his eyes roam over your beautiful face. His eyes snagged on that strand of hair that had fallen from the bun that rested above the nape of your neck, and he had to physically stop himself from reaching out and discovering how soft your hair felt between his scarred fingers. He almost gasped when your fingers finally touched his bare skin, and a jolt of electricity zipped through his body at the contact. 

"Oh, this doesn't look too deep; that's good!" you mumbled as you gently sponged away the blood from around the cut to get a better look at it. "Ok, I'm going to close the cut. You probably know this, but it may tingle." 

The shadowsinger watched as your brows furrowed, and the hand that wasn't clutching his wrist hovered above the cut on his arm. Warmth spread down that cut, turning into a delightful tingle reverberating around his body. He had always hated this moment of being healed, cringing at the way his skin would knit together before him, almost against his will. However, he didn't feel anything as he watched the cut on his arm disappear and marvelled at the almost pleasant way your magic brushed against his. 

"Thank you." Azriel sounded breathless.

"You are most welcome." He watched, unable to move, as your hands slipped from his forearm to gently trace the scars around his hand. Azriel was often jumpy around his hands, hating the way they looked, but he couldn't help marvelling at the way you touched them as if you weren't afraid or sad—merely curious: "Do your hands get stiff at all?"

"Sometimes after a long day of training or when it's cold." You could feel his eyes on you as you continued to examine his hands. You had noticed them when you had first looked at his injury, having heard of them through various whispers and rumours that filtered through Velaris. What you hadn't been prepared for was how beautiful they were. To you, the scars that had been left behind, were a testament to his strength. 

"Hmmm, I thought as much," you said, looking up from his hands to meet his gaze. "I have a salve that will help if you would like it?"

"I would like that very much." His answer was very soft, and it caused the breath to escape your lungs once again. 

"Pop down to the clinic when you're next in the city. I'll have it ready to collect from tomorrow. Or just send word, and I will ask a courier to deliver it to you. I know how busy you are!" You could tell you were rambling now, and from the quirk of his lips, you were also blushing furiously. 

"I'll collect it myself, Y/N, I wouldn't want to trouble you."

"It's no trouble at all." You whispered. 

"Y/N! Can you also check over this Valkyrie once you're done with the spymaster, please?" Madja's voice broke through the peaceful silence you and the spymaster were enjoying—both of you shocked but not displeased by this steady connection you seemed to have. 

"Of course, I'll be right there!" You turned back to Azriel with an apologetic smile, "I'd best go; it was lovely to meet you, Azriel."

He watched as you gathered your supplies, brushing that strand of hair behind your ears, "And you, Y/N. I'll see you in the clinic."

As you walked away to tend to one of the young females who was smiling sheepishly at you, you couldn't help the butterflies that flew about in your stomach at the thought of seeing Azriel again. 

…

You hadn't expected to see him walking through the door to the healer's centre the next day. So when you heard the soft tinkle of the bell above the door and turned around to greet whoever had walked through, your heart leapt into your throat, and your breath left your lungs as you beheld the Illyrian warrior who had wandered into your sanctum. 

"Azriel." You whispered, similar shy smiles falling on both of your lips. 

"I hope this is a good time? I wasn't sure when would be best to pop in."

"Oh no! This is great. I finished your salve an hour ago, so it's ready for you to take home." You grabbed the small bottle you had filled not long ago off the counter and passed it over to him, "Rub this liberally over your hands when they are stiff. You can also use it as a preventative measure on days you know you might need it. Let me know if you need any more and how you get on, and we can adjust some of the ingredients."

"Thank you again, Y/N," You had to hold your body incredibly still to avoid the shiver that wanted to wander down your spine at the sound of your name rolling off Azriel's tongue. 

The pair of you stared at each other as silence once again settled over the room—a comfortable silence, one you didn't feel the need to fill. It was refreshing to feel that with someone, not having to say something to fill an awkward void. It was peaceful, and it surprised you to feel that with someone like Azriel, someone who was feared in every Court across Prythian, whose stories were used by parents to get their children to behave. 

"When do you finish your shift?" He finally asked, breaking that comfortable silence. 

"Oh! I actually finished ten minutes ago - you caught me as I was closing up." 

"In that case, can I get you dinner? To say thank you for the healing yesterday and the salve." Azriel looked almost shy as he shifted on his feet, having to clear his throat a couple of times. 

"Oh, you don't have to do that!" You were sure a vibrant blush was sweeping up your neck, and along your cheeks, at the soft smile the spymaster was giving you. 

"I'd like to." His soft voice made your heart melt, and in that moment, you knew you'd give anything to spend even a second more in his presence. 

"I would like that. I know a restaurant just a few minutes away that I've been meaning to try?"

His lips turned up into a broad smile, "Perfect. Lead the way."

…

If you had told yourself when you had joined the healer's centre all those years ago that it would lead to a friendship with your High Lord's spymaster, you would have laughed till you were hoarse. But that lovely meal you shared with Azriel in that charming restaurant along the Sidra was not the last. 

Azriel had taken it upon himself a couple of times a week to drop by the centre - either just as you were about to take your lunch break or just as you were finishing up for the evening - to take you out for a meal. Together, you had explored almost every cafe, restaurant, and picnic spot on this side of the city, and each time, you had left beaming ear to ear.

He had also taken it upon himself to either call down to the centre or request you come to the House of Wind to personally attend to the injuries he received from training or whilst away on missions. You had started to suspect that he called you even for injuries he could heal himself, and you blushed furiously every time you thought about it but refused to call him out on it, even jokingly. You lived every day for those visits, for those moments between the two of you, the times after the healing when you would sit together and talk, and the easy companionship you found in Azriel. 

Madja and Cassian had caught on to it, and both just smiled knowing looks when you told them you were off to the House of Wind or when you passed them in the hallway. Your frequent visits also meant that you had been introduced to Azriel's family, the Inner Circle of the Night Court. Slowly, over the months, you and Azriel developed your friendship, and you also began to cultivate friendships with the others, particularly Feyre, Rhys, and Cassian. 

Cassian made you laugh with his jokes, Rhys and you bonded over your shared ambition for the future you both so desperately wanted to create, and Feyre had become a dear friend who sometimes winnowed into your small apartment in the city to have girls' nights. 

You couldn't believe your luck at how your life had pivoted in the last couple of months, the happiness you now felt. All thanks to one person.

And one evening, after healing a nasty gash on Az's leg, you sat on the sofa next to him with the rest of his family scattered around you, a glass of wine in your hand and Az's wing hovering behind you to block out the cool breeze coming in through the open window you realised just much you loved him. 

…

"How many times a day do I use it?" the elderly patient in front of you asked again. You gave them a soft smile before reaching for a scrap of paper and pen beside you and scribbling the instructions down for them.

"Twice a day, once when you wake up and then again before you go to bed," you handed the piece of paper over to them, and they offered you a very grateful smile. "If you see no improvements within three days, come back, and we'll try something else."

"Thank you, Y/N, truly thank you." You waved them off with a fond smile as they shuffled out of the centre.

You were just turning to offer a smile and welcome to the next person who stood in line at the large counter in the centre of the room when the main door to the centre burst open, and Cassian stood in the doorway. Immediately, you knew something was wrong. His body was heaving, and he was out of breath as if he had rushed to find you.

"It's Azriel," he thundered. Your blood ran cold, and your heart stopped dead in your chest before starting up at a thunderous pace. Immediately, you allowed your calm healer's mind to take over, silencing the roaring in your ears and the panic clawing up your throat.

"Marta! I need you to take over at the counter. If it's urgent and you can't help, call for Sara. If it's something that can wait, take note of their name and where they live, and I will personally visit them in the next couple of days. Is that ok?" You didn't wait for a reply, throwing the apron off your body and grabbing the box of supplies you always kept by your feet when on counter duty in case you needed to rush off to a patient before diving around the counter towards Cassian. 

He threw an arm over your shoulder in greeting and comfort and to steer you through the crowd to a section of the street that was less occupied so he could fly you both up the House of Wind. 

"How bad is it?" You mumbled as you felt his strong hands cup underneath your knees and around your back, your arms reaching up to loop around his neck. 

"Bad," he grunted as he soared into the air. Being in Cassian's arms as he flew was so different from being in Azriel's. He was warm like the spymaster, but the desire to explore the air with the male wasn't there. The joy you often took in this short journey was missing. 

Cassian landed heavily on the tiled floor of the entryway, back where you had stood all those months ago when you had first been summoned. The House was deathly quiet as you made the familiar walk through hallways you barely acknowledged towards the bedroom Azriel always occupied. 

“Y/N.” Rhys breathed your name as you strolled towards him, and you noticed how Feyre, Mor and Nesta stood around the open door, each looking more nervous than the last. 

"Rhys," you acknowledged your High Lord, someone who had become your friend in the last couple of months, "is he in there?" You asked, his head dipping in a single nod as you slipped past him into the room. 

A sob almost wrenched itself from your throat as your eyes finally landed on Azriel. He was deathly pale, his body sprawled atop the covers of his bed, his wings flared out beneath him. You stared at him for a second, silently willing his chest to rise and fall with breath, and when it did, you almost screamed to whichever God would listen. A part of you couldn't help but acknowledge that he still looked handsome in this state, the proud line of his nose, the sensual curve of his lips - even as blood dripped from the huge wound in his chest and pooled on the bedsheets underneath him. 

"Where is Madja?" Rhys quietly asked as you stepped into the room and dropped your supplies by the side of the bed, your hands shaking as you began to raise them to assess Azriel's condition. 

"Away tending to a terminally ill family member." You tightly replied. 

"Shit." Shit, indeed, you wanted to grumble, but you were also suddenly, unspeakably angry. 

"With all due respect, Rhys, I have been trained personally by Madja for over a century, and I have been tending to this male's wounds personally for the last couple of months. I know his body and how it heals better than I know my own. I will take a look, and if it is beyond my capabilities, we will call for Madja, but I promise you now I will heal him." Everyone froze in the wake of your outburst, but you kept your eyes locked on the High Lord of the Night Court, a male you had grown increasingly fond of as you spent more time with Az and his family. He simply looked at you, a beat of understanding flashing in his eyes before he turned to his mate standing beside him, reaching out to take her hand and smiling softly at her before turning back to you.

"My apologies, Y/N. Please, do what you do best." His words were soft and apologetic, and you simply nodded at him before turning back to the male sprawled on the bed before you. 

Your heart broke to see him in such a state, the man you had grown to love. 

"What do you need?" Feyre softly asked behind you. Suddenly, you were incredibly grateful that Az had friends who cared about him so deeply and honoured that he had introduced you to them, too, and brought you into the lovely warmth of friendship. 

"Two bowls of water—one warm and the other cool—and some rags, please, Fey. I also need someone to help me get him out of his leathers. Can someone close all of the curtains and drapes in this room and get some faelights in here, please?" Immediately, Cassian was in front of you, starting at the buckles on his wrists, ankles, and chest. 

"Why?" Someone asked behind you, you thought it was Mor. 

"His shadows. They'll help heal him, but we need to create the environment in which they thrive best: darkness." Both you and Az had tested the theory over the last couple of months and you had found he was stronger and healed quicker when his shadows were around. It was something you so desperately wanted to study further but didn't want to overstep a boundary. 

Finally, between you and his best friend, you managed to wrangle Azriel out of his leathers, careful not to jostle him too much to not irritate his wound. 

"How bad is it?" Cassian asked, parroting back to you the question you had asked him not ten minutes ago but what felt like hours. You ignored him for a second, taking a look at the hole in Az's chest, punched just above his heart and cutting through those beautiful Illriyan tattoos before reaching your hand out to hover over the wound to get a better feel of it.

"Bad," you mumbled, "but easily enough to heal." A series of sighs cut through the tension in the room as every member of the Inner Circle let out a breath they had all been collectively holding. "He was stabbed from the front with a blade tipped with an ash arrow, I believe. He pulled the blade from his body, but it has left some splinters behind, draining his powers and stopping him from healing. Infection has set in so I think this happened a couple of days ago, he must have gained enough strength to winnow back here before passing out."

"Do what you need to, Y/N." Rhys's voice was soft but had the undercurrent of a High Lord's command—heal my friend, he commanded. You nodded once before rolling up your sleeves and turning back to Azriel.

For hours, you worked at healing Az, praying to the Mother throughout it all that he would pull through - if only so you could tell him how much you loved him.

…

There was nothing gentle about the way Azriel surfaced to consciousness. One moment he was swimming in darkness, and the next, his eyes shot open, and he sucked in a huge faltering breath. After years of meticulous training, his senses immediately began to take in his surroundings, and his brain was already calculating his escape route. It was only when he took in the soft bed beneath him, the familiar decorations in the room, and the female sat curled up in a chair beside him that he could recognise that he was home. That he was safe.

Safe.

He felt the twinge in his chest. He knew the moment he moved, a biting pain would radiate throughout his body, so for the moment, he just lay there. His eyes stayed focused on you, on the way you had clearly pushed a chair as close as you could to his bedside. Your hair piled up in a messy bun on the top of your head—tendrils escaping and framing your beautiful face—and a damp rag hung limply from your hand.

His shadows flitted around him, whispering your name to him in a fond way he had never heard them speak of another before. They told him how you had rushed to his side, commanded the room, and stood up for yourself and your capabilities. How you had spent hours upon hours pulling splinters out of the wound and then encouraging his skin to knit together, to heal. How you had nearly spent your entire magic to save him and had then stayed and made sure he battled the infection, sponging cool water onto his skin, talking to him as if he was conscious. 

“Y/N.” He whispered, his voice hoarse from misuse and lack of water. Immediately, your eyelashes fluttered and opened, scanning the room before landing on his awake form. Now that your beautiful eyes were open, he could see the smudge of purple underneath each one, and a pang vibrated through his chest at the thought of this incredible female staying by his side even when you were exhausted. 

"Az." You whispered back, tears begin to shimmer in your eyes as you took in the shadowsinger finally awake. Still pale and far from healed entirely, but awake. 

He winced slightly as he reached out and hesitated somewhat before gently cupping your jaw, stroking his thumb along your cheek and catching the tears slipping free.

"Thank you." You knew his shadows had whispered to him that you had almost depleted yourself for him and risked yourself to heal him. 

"You scared me." His face crumpled at your words as he saw in your eyes the terror you went through for those hours you weren't sure he would make it through. Guilt ate at him for not spotting the trap that had been laid for him.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I was ambushed." He continued to brush his thumb over your skin, and you let the feeling ground you and reassure you that he was here and alive.

"I don't need to know," he heard what you were saying, that you didn't want to know, "do you want to sit up?" 

"Yes, please." You moved swiftly and efficiently, having done this for so many patients before Az. You gently scooped under his arms and lifted his weight so he could move to a sitting position. He winced as the movement tugged on his newly stitched-together skin, but with your expert handling, he wasn't in too much pain. "How long was I out for?"

"A day and a half."

"Shit. I need to debrief with Rhys." He made to sit up further, to swing his legs over the side of his bed, but your hand was instantly there on his shoulder - softly but firmly pushing back. 

"Later. Once you've had some water and food, and I've had a chance to assess your wound again."

"Yes, ma'am." He smirked and gently took the hand that was on his shoulder, intertwining your fingers and running his thumb comfortingly over your knuckles. 

Another soft silence settled over you both, and Azriel found himself glancing down at your connected hands, "That day we met was the first time someone had dared to look closely at my hands. It was also the first time I saw someone examine them and not flinch."

"Your hands are beautiful, Az." Your voice was soft, still shaky from crying. 

"You don't need to say that Y/N." 

"No, I'm serious," you frowned, "your hands are beautiful, and they are strong - just like you." You both watched as you trailed your fingers across the back of his hands, tracing the lines of scar tissue. "I was so scared when Cassian burst into the centre, but that didn't match the terror when I saw you unconscious, and I didn't know if I would get a chance to tell you how much you mean to me." He could hear the emotion building in your voice again. 

"Come here, sweetheart." His face was soft as he held his arm out and motioned for you to come closer. A sob lodged itself from your throat as you shifted, taking care of his wings and injury, to slip onto the bed and move into the warm space of Azriel's body. Immediately, you curled into his side, carefully slipping a hand around his waist to hold him closer. Az curled his arm around you, and the feeling of being in his arms, being held by him, had your heart soaring in your chest. 

"Did it snap in place for you?" he asked softly, and you knew what he was asking—he was tugging at that soft thread that now sat between you. 

"When I saw you lying there unconscious. You?" That moment when your eyes had landed on Azriel on his bed, true terror had speared through you as that bond had snapped into place, and you had realised it was your mate lying there in the space between life and death. 

"That first day, when you held my hands so gently and offered me that salve." His voice held so much emotion, and you felt warmth trickle down that thread and disperse throughout your body as you both acknowledged the bond. 

"Az." He closed his eyes at the sound of his name on your tongue, and he could never get tired of hearing the way you said it as you propped yourself up to look at him. 

"We can talk about it later, about what you want to do and how we move forward. You don't have to make any decisions now." His hand stroked the skin on your exposed arm, the other finally brushing that strand of hair out of your eyes. A frown fell on your face at his words.

"I hope you are talking about how we accept the mating bond and not whether I want to accept it in the first place. I am honoured to be your mate, Azriel, and to get the chance to love you for the rest of our lives." He was sure he had stopped breathing, convinced he was still dreaming. That you would be willing to spend the rest of your life with him, to love him the way he loved you so fiercely. 

"Are you sure?" His voice sounded small, and you couldn't help the smile that danced on your lips. 

"I have never been more sure of something in my life, Az. You deserve this type of love. Let me give it to you." You whispered as you closed the space between you two. Your eyes scanned his face, ready to pull away if he gave the signal that he wasn't ready. But as his breath fanned your lips, your eyes locked, and the hand that had brushed your hair aside cupped your jaw firmly in his large palm, as he surged forward to capture your lips in his. 

Immediately, fireworks erupted behind your eyes at the delicious feeling of his lips moving against yours, wave after wave of pleasure rolling down your spine as you tilted your head back to give him more access. A soft moan slipped past your lips when Azriel gently nibbled on your bottom lip, causing a gasp, which he swallowed expertly with his mouth. You felt Azriel's hand slip from your jaw to cup the back of your neck, holding you firmly as the kiss transformed from something sweet into something else, something more wonton, something close to fire. 

Far too quickly for your liking, Azriel pulled away, gasping for air. Your eyes fluttered open as he rested his forehead against yours, a soft grin dancing on both of your lips as you made eye contact and saw the emotion swimming in both of your eyes. Azriel watched, entranced, as he swiped his thumb over your swollen bottom lip. Your eyelids fluttered as a soft moan escaped again between your lips; Azriel wondered if that was the sweetest sound he had ever heard.  

"My mate. I have waited for over five hundred years for you." He whispered into the heated air between you. 

"I hope I was worth the wait." You joked. Azriel couldn't help but close the space again at your words to press his lips to yours again in a soft kiss this time.

"You definitely are." Your toes curled at his tone, and as his lips still brushed against yours as he spoke. 

"The healer and the spymaster… there's a story there, I think." You grinned as you brushed his hair back off his forehead, wanting to take in every inch of emotion that he was freely displaying on his face. 

"And we will write it together," he promised, and you couldn't help the matching grins on your faces as you leant forward again to join your lips together in another spectacular kiss—knowing that for the rest of your very long life, you would never get tired of kissing Azriel, your mate. 

[cutiehealer]

3 trans La Pucelle icons for pride month

[rinnysmuses]

“Bozja has dried up the roulettes...”

[teyums]

His Secret Admirer - Neteyam x fem na’vi reader

part two | part three | part four |bonus chapter

wc: 6.7k

a/n: Welcome to my Neteyam X reader series! This first part is kind of a slow burn to establish the plot so there is not much action as I hate when things are rushed. But it is cute and a bit fluffy 🤭 The events of The Way of Water never happened in this series, so this is based in the forest. Enjoy!

Neteyam is 19, reader is 18 in this series.

contains: slight fluff, as little use of y/n as possible, very minor mention of 🪦 (one time)

For as long as you could remember, you had the biggest crush on Neteyam Sully.

You couldn’t help it. He was the sweetest man in the entire clan and he acted much differently from the others. Never cocky, never boastful. It made your heart skip a beat just thinking about how he had always unapologetically been him - a genuine sweetheart and over protective from the start.

The two of you were not strangers, in fact, his presence was quite familiar to you. Throughout your younger years he would protect you from the harsh words of the other kids after witnessing you being bullied the first time. Upon finding out you spent most of your time alone and had no friends, he invited you to hang around him and his siblings with a promise of belonging. You hadn’t realized what an honor that was until you got older.

His brother and sister, Lo’ak and Kiri, quickly took a liking to you and became the friends you never had. But unfortunately for you and Neteyam, the progression of your story was cut short. As the years passed his schedule became bombarded with training duties, leaving him busy basically 24/7 and eventually causing your friendship to become less of a priority. You were hurt, but you had to understand it wasn’t personal. Once he got to a certain age, his parents allowed him to have fun and hang out with kids his age less and less; giving him constant reminders of the shoes he would grow to fill. Apparently, he had to spend every living and breathing moment training for a position you weren’t even sure he actually wanted.

Growing up, your mother told you that crushes were very simple and lighthearted. Something that was meant to make your heart flutter and your cheeks rosy. But having a crush on Neteyam was actually the exact opposite. This was Jake Sully’s son we were talking about. Girls fawned over him everyday, rightfully so. But watching them trail closely behind him as if he were metal and them magnets made your heart pang with jealousy. You knew you would never have a chance, and even if you did, there were probably so many other girls above you on the imaginary list that already had his attention. He would surely never make it down to your name once it came time for him to choose a mate.

Loving him was like yearning for something you didn’t even know existed. It was like opening your mouth to speak but remembering you didn’t have a voice to use. You weren’t a hunter or a healer, you couldn’t sing and you most definitely were not the beauty queen of the clan. You weren’t anything special, so how could you ever think you had a chance to call him yours?

“Nete-yammm” A gorgeous, tall na’vi giggled with a sing song tone, reaching out to caress any area of his body that didn’t already have a three fingered hand touching it. You cringed at the sound of her voice. That was Eyiti, the daughter of an amazing healer in your clan and probably first on his list to be his Tsahik. You absolutely loathed her, the way her eyelashes batted in his direction and how her stride became flirtatious when he was around to make the long braid that covered her queue sway side to side.

You definitely had your reasons for disliking her, one of them being that when you all were younger she had purposely tripped you and caused you to faceplant in the mud right in front of Neteyam. He had so much faith in everyone that he hadn’t even seen her foot conveniently stick out in front of you when you excitedly walked towards him. Before he could reach an arm out to help you up his dad had whisked him away, reminding him he had responsibilities he needed to tend to and at this point girls were the least of his worries.

“Is there anything we can do for you? Do you need your hair re-braided? A massage maybe?” The group asked, snapping you out of your bitter flashback when multiple different voices chirped, taking turns to offer him favors. You watched them swarm around him like vultures, his eyes searching for a way out of the circle.

“Yes, perhaps a massage! Your muscles must be sooo sore from your hunt yesterday.” Yet another voice chimed in, she literally looked like she wanted to eat the flesh off his bones and you rolled your eyes in annoyance. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone?

“Neteyam! Are you hungry? I can make something good for you to eat. You need all the energy you can get for your training later, right?”

“No!” Another na’vi woman hissed, latching onto one of his toned arms and hugging it. She almost knocked him over with the force that came from her launching herself at him. You watched him stumble to the side a bit, his stance awkward and stiff as his cheeks flushed due to all the overwhelming attention. Jeez, was she trying to hug his arm or rip it off his body to take it home with her?  You didn’t know but honestly you wouldn’t be surprised if that was her intention, these women were insane. They looked like little girls fighting over a doll with the way they were pulling him back and forth by his biceps.

“Girls, please” He spoke softly and forced a smile on his face in attempt to not hurt their feelings, or worse; make them more hostile than they already were. “I am okay, really. I do not need any of you to do anything for me other than enjoy your day. You all are…” he paused before continuing, “very beautiful and nice women but I truly must be going, I cannot be late for my meeting with my father.”

The mention of a discussion of the future with his father earned many dreamy sounding sighs from his personal fan club.

Your face grew hot when you noticed his eyes look up at you, seemingly begging for help with an almost panicked smile on his face. You pressed your lips together to stifle your laugh, then raised your hands in surrender on either side of your head to silently communicate to him that he was indeed on his own with this. You knew he’d be alright seeing as he dealt with this almost daily, but you also knew he was growing tired of it. Poor Neteyam was too nice to hurt their feelings, but even if you tried to help him what could you do? They’d probably tear you apart if you walked up and attempted to steal him away from their grasp. You sure as hell weren’t going to draw attention to yourself by intervening.

Thankfully for him, you heard Neytiri’s sharp voice yell his name from a different direction, causing the girls around him to jump and straighten up in fear of our Tsahik witnessing them behave in such a shameful manner. And from the sound of his mother’s voice- he was definitely late for that meeting. His ears perked up in alert but the expression on his face only showed relief due to her timely save.

“Gotta go girls!” He exclaimed with haste, sounding more excited now than he had their entire interaction. You sighed to yourself and gave him a subtle wave with a gentle smile, watching him take the extra second he didn’t have to smile back at you before he slipped through the small crowd and damn near sprinted to safety.

Your smile grew bigger as you watched him escape, soaking in the way his eyes had previously just held contact with yours for longer than they needed to. A daydream would have washed over you had you not felt the glares of his desperate admirers trying to burn holes through your head. You cleared your throat to break the awkward silence and swiftly turned on your heels, realizing it probably wasn’t the best idea to continue standing there if you valued your life.

~ a few hours later ~

Eclipse had now envelloped a previously sunny day, stealing the sky away and taking the sun’s place for the rest of the night. You sat with your mom on the floor of your hut, just having finished a wonderfully made dinner. “Mama, would you like help with the dishes?” You knew better than to excuse yourself before offering your assistance.

“No no, child. Go on, I know you want to take as much time as you possibly can before it gets late.” She smiled up at you and shooed you out with her hand, the wrinkles creased next to her eyes served in reminding you of how grateful you were to have had your mother by your side all these years.

“Yes mama, thank you.” Nodding your head, you at least stacked the dishes into each other to help as much as you could before you thanked her, quickly standing up from where the two of you were kneeling on the floor.

Your mother quietly laughed to herself at your excitement as you skipped to the doorway, surprised at how you didn’t trip over your own two feet as you gathered your things. You pushed through the curtains that served as a doorway to your home and once stepping foot outside, you felt your lungs expand to take a deep inhale and breathe in the crisp night air.

Almost everyday after dinner, you would excuse yourself with the permission of your mother and embark on a stroll through the forest. At first, she wouldn’t allow you to go more than half a mile without her. Her fears derived from the fact that you were no hunter and you did not like to carry weapons, meaning you could not protect yourself if the time called for it. But upon realizing you had a deep connection with the animals of the forest (and came back unscathed every time) her rules relaxed and her trust in you flourished. Even the Palulukan paid you no mind - you would still bring small chunks of meat with you though, just in case.

You expertly leaped from tree to tree with little to no time between. After taking the same path day by day it was muscle memory by now. You used the ball of your foot to stabilize your landing on the thick branches after each jump, and your opposite leg carried you to the next. This was your favorite part of everyday, traveling through the breathtaking forest with your own two legs and being able to really appreciate the vast land you called home. The way the rough, damp tree bark felt against your toes; the small chirps and mating calls of animals below you that filled your ears. You much preferred it to flying on an Ikran; they were loud and would scare away the small animals of the forest before you could say hello.

Before you knew it, you had reached your quiet hideaway above the waterfalls. A sigh of relief left your lips as you leisurely made your way up onto the bank of the cliffside; the ground illuminating briefly in the spots where you had stepped. Careful to not crush the flowers that had just recently bloomed, you crouched down closer to the ground to collect one of the things you came for. Pulling the bag you had brought with from behind your body, you patiently searched through the vegetation until locating one of your mother’s favorite herbs for stews, and another for salves.

That was the deal the two of you had made. If you were going to be out exploring the forest without her, you might as well make yourself useful and and collect what’s needed for the house. You didn’t mind though, your mother was getting older and you would do anything to make her job easier. Your father had died during the battle with the sky people almost twenty years ago and was one of many casualties. He was gone before your mother even had the chance to tell him she was pregnant. Every time you expressed sadness about it, she would hug you and remind you that he died with honor; fighting along side his people and protecting what was left of home tree. She gave birth nine months after his passing and raised you alone. She was offered help from the village, but did not want to accept pity. “We are all struggling from the aftermath of this war, not just I.” She would humbly say. She truly was the strongest person you knew.

After gathering a good amount, you gently reclined and rested against the large tree trunk that had been supporting your back for a couple weeks now. Closing your eyes, you let the sounds of the water crashing into the rocks below invite you into a calm, lucid state - the beat of your heart slowing to a steady rhythm as you lay in nature.

The serene forest awarded you with its peaceful lullaby for about fifteen minutes before the crunch of a twig snapping interrupted your meditation. You gasped quietly, whipping your head around in alert, your eyes straining to try and see through the trees. Not many animals came this high up into the forest, mostly birds or the Syaksyuk (night lemurs) swinging through the trees above. But these steps sounded heavy and that made your ears lower with worry.

“Who’s there!” You called out, rising to your feet with your hands prepped on your bag to secure your mother’s herbs in case you had to make a run for it. You squinted your eyes at the darkness in confusion, the sounds of the leaves crunching were not frequent enough to be the result of multiple feet.

“Ow! Damnit,” You heard a familiar voice curse, your ears perking back up when a tall na’vi with long braids emerged into your view.

“Neteyam?”  

He whipped his head up to look at you, his braids swaying to the other side of his head in sync with him. “[Y/n]?” He questioned right back at you. “What are you doing here? It’s late, you know.” He warned, brushing off his shoulder and looking around.  “Are you alone?”

Still confused by his sudden appearance, you shook your head slightly. “I come here almost every night, and yes I’m… alone,” you spoke, your voice quieting with the last word that left your lips as you looked at him in bewilderment. Your eyes traveled from every inch of his body and you found yourself gawking at how he looked even more beautiful while under the moonlight. Your attention quickly averted when his gaze found its way back to you, raising your head and stabilizing your tone. “Forget about me, what are you doing here?”

He noticed you staring but decided against addressing it. He chuckled and shook his head, “I too come here often,, but only during the day. The forest is very dangerous outside of our village at night, [Y/n].” He said softly and took a step closer. It almost looked as if he were worried about you.

“Yes, I-” You felt the urge to take one backwards but your feet stayed planted in the grass, your brain reminding you that you’re literally standing on a cliff right now. “I’m aware of the dangers,” you continued. “But the animals don’t pay me any mind, I actually think they sort of like me. And I always bring scraps of food, just in case.”

He nodded, seemingly approving your method of preparation.

“I don’t have anymore, though. The forest is a bit quiet tonight so I gave it all to a Palulukan I saw a little ways back.”

Neteyam’s eyes almost popped out of his head as he took a step closer to you once more, in an attempt to make sure the words he heard were correct. “A- a Palulukan?” He questioned, “Like, those six-legged creatures that will tear your head off without thinking? Are you feeling alright?” His face washed over with genuine concern as he brought a three fingered hand up to feel your forehead.

“Yes, Neteyam.” You giggled at his astonishment.  “I know what a Palulukan is, you skxawng.” You teased with an eyeroll and gently shooed his hand away, speaking up again to extinguish his worries. “But really, I’m fine. See?” You nodded slowly, extending your arms out to him to show your lack of injury.

“Huh, no scratches…” His eyes trailed along your smooth skin and you felt goosebumps prickle down your arms. You hadn’t remembered it being chilly tonight.

“No scratches,” you parroted, turning your back to him and returning to your previous resting area. “Come, sit with me.”

The corners of Neteyam’s mouth moved to form a small grin and he nodded his head in silent agreeance, taking you up on your invitation and sitting down next to you. He mimicked your movement, scooting back to relax against the base of the tree. A loud sigh of genuine relief could be heard from him and to you it sounded like he had been holding it in all day. You had your attention focused on the soft blades of grass that tickled your legs, suddenly tilting your head to the side with a new found query.

“Wait,” You started, earning a curious hum from him that permitted you to continue. “I thought you said you come here during the day time? Correct me if I’m wrong but, it looks pretty dark out here right now.” You joked.

Neteyam was always so lighthearted and easy going, so your eyebrows furrowed at him when he continued to stare straight forward at the waterfall across the ravine. You had expected him to laugh or at least crack a smile like he always did at one of your jokes, but he looked conflicted when he answered. “I just… I had to get away from my parents for a little while. They’re driving me crazy.” He grumbled.

Oh my Eywa, I’m such an idiot. This is the first time in years we’ve been completely alone and I’ve already soured his mood.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“No,” He interrupted, turning his head to look at you with a smile that instantly calmed your nerves. “Don’t feel bad, it is not your fault… Besides, I’m glad I came when I did. Had I gone earlier, I wouldn’t have gotten to see you.” His voice laced thick with his accent, you felt your stomach swarm with butterflies at the feeling of his large hand now resting atop yours.  His warm yellow eyes glistened, looking even more beautiful to you than the stars above your heads. Your lips parted slightly while the two of you sat there appreciating each other’s presence, his smile growing wider when he cocked his head to the side at the apparent loss of your train of thought.

Your eyes fell from his and focused themselves on your overlapped hands so you could blush in peace, earning a quiet snicker and a head shake from him. “Yes...” you finally responded, looking back up once you confirmed your heart wouldn’t explode and ruin the moment. “It has been a while since we hung-out.” You smiled, your tone mellow.

The two of you sat with each other for a while. Time passed so quickly whenever you were around him that you didn’t even know how long it had been. You talked about everything. His parents, how your mother was doing, and overall what he’d been up to. There was never a boring moment with Neteyam. At one point you expressed interest in his training, but the excitement was not reciprocated so you dropped the topic and instead joined in stargazing with him.

“So… How was that meeting you had earlier, with your parents?” You cleared your throat and spoke up after a bit, breaking the silence.

He scoffed and scratched his head lightly, throwing his arm up in an annoyed gesture. “Stupid and unnecessary. They tell me the same thing everyday as if I don’t already know.”

“What is it now? Are they scolding you for Lo’ak’s antics again?” You giggled at his aggravated huff in response to your question, using this moment to your advantage and gently resting your head on his shoulder. You genuinely thought it would be something along those lines. But when he hesitated before letting you in on exactly what they were pestering him about, you became worried.

“They want me to find a mate. Soon.”

His shoulders tensed and you blinked in disbelief at his words, your body slouching slightly against his arm with disappointment. The words that left his lips were not at all what you had been expecting. “Oh…” Your voice was almost a whisper with how hushed it was and you were glad he couldn’t see your face right now. A thousand thoughts clouded your brain at once, were they due to surprise at what he said, or fear?

“I’m not ready.” His voice snapped you out of your pity party, and you remembered that this wasn’t about you. It was about him. You had to set aside your feelings and hear him out. You guys were just friends anyway, and what else are friends for, right?

You laughed dryly, cringing after at how forced it sounded. “I think you’re just nervous, Neteyam. Besides, you have loads of options to choose from. Any one of your admirers from earlier will do fine.” You shrugged and tried to sound as encouraging as possible, picking the petals from a flower that you had taken into your grasp after you removed your hand from his.

“None of those women will ever be my mate.” He stated sternly, as if he sounded offended that you had even suggested it. His voice was calm and the volume low, but the tone he said it in made your breath falter. “Those are not the kind of women I want. They only see me for my status in the clan.” He mumbled, his feelings sounding hurt.

You sat up and turned your body towards him, dipping your head to try and meet his avoidant eyes. “’Teyam…” you said solemnly. He still hadn’t met your eyes but his ears perked up slightly in response to the old nickname you had for him. Watching him pick blades of grass out of the ground to distract himself from the conversation, you sighed to yourself in frustration. Not at him, but at the fact that the constant reiteration of the importance of his training throughout the years really had him thinking such a thing. “Look at me.”

His head lifted slowly but his eyes wouldn’t stay on your face. He gnawed at the inside of his bottom lip, feeling embarrassed for even bringing it up.

“You-” grabbing his hand in both of yours, you shook it slightly for emphasis and squeezed firmly, “-are so much more than a title, and you know that. You are worth so much more. Do you hear me, Neteyam?” Your gaze held strong and your shyness had no control over you at this point. You wanted to make sure he understood what you were saying. You wanted to make sure he knew you were telling the truth. You needed him to.

His eyes finally locked on yours and it was his turn to feel shy this time. A small smile broke through his previous frown, and his eyes fell to your lips for a split second before he looked back up at you. “Okay.” He answered, sounding satisfied with your reassurance and stroking the back of your hand with the pad of his thumb as a thank you.

The air between the two of you felt electric when you remembered you were still holding his hand. Your chest began to rise and fall with weighted breaths when you noticed he seemed to be admiring your features. You cursed yourself for wondering what it would feel like to kiss him- thinking about how well your lips would pair with his. Your intense feelings for him had calmed slightly due to his absence, but now you felt them bubbling up and threatening to burst through the surface all over again.

A loud horn sounded suddenly, interrupting your thoughts and signaling the end of a day. The both of you jumped and your hands retracted, startled out of your intimate interaction.

“Oh my Eywa… I was supposed to be home almost an hour ago!” You exclaimed, sounding panicked as you rushed to grab your things.

Neteyam’s eyes widened and he immediately stood up, looking equally as panicked upon remembering what happened the last time he got you home late to your mother when you guys were younger.

“I-I’m sorry, this is all my fault. I distracted you.” Rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, he eagerly extended his free one out to help you up while sounding apologetic. “Come, I’ll take you home.”

You accepted his offer and allowed him to assist you to your feet, shaking your head repeatedly as you stood in front of him. “No, no. This is on me, I completely lost track of time.”

Though it wasn’t his fault you had stayed out much too late into the night, he was right about one thing. He was able to distract you so easily, you became clumsy in his presence. You mindlessly took a wrong step to the side, crying out in pain when your foot came in contact with the thorn bush you usually remember to avoid- it’s sharp and thick thorns piercing through your skin.

“What? What is it? What happened?” Neteyam questioned frantically, his voice loud and riddled with worry when you yelled and helplessly clutched onto his biceps for support.

Pain shot like lightning through your leg and with your eyes tightly shut you hissed out an answer. “M-my foot, I-” you managed to get out between sharp inhales, another cry of pain interrupting your sentence when you attempted to lower your foot to see if you could walk.

“No!” Neteyam spoke against your movement, sighing when his advice came too late. “You cannot walk like this, hold onto me and keep your foot raised.”

Now, if it didn’t feel like your entire leg was on fire, you probably would’ve crumbled at the feeling of his warm hand sliding between the fold behind your knee and lifting it slightly to assist you with his instructions.  The two of you were in such a compromising position, yet you couldn’t even enjoy it.

“Maybe we should sit down-“

You hopped a bit and shook your head, sliding your arms around his neck to reduce the weight burdened on your free leg as he held your thigh. “The thorns, they’re poisonous,” you breathed out. “I have to get home.”

“Poi-“ His mouth fell open in shock, almost repeating the word that had alarmed him. His jaw clenched seeing you in pain, he felt bad knowing he wasn’t able to help. “Can you fly? Call your ikran, now.”

“I can’t-“

“How foolish of me, you probably cannot fly. We will go on mine.” Before you could get another word out he raised his pointer finger and thumb to his lips with haste, resulting in a crisp, loud whistle.

The truth is… you couldn’t fly even if you wanted to. You never tamed an Ikran of your own and you were deathly afraid of flying. Because of this, you traveled solely by foot and had no intention of changing that. Until now.

You squealed in fear when his Ikran dropped down onto the cliffside in an instant, turning and shielding your face from its sharp, flapping wings. “Neteyam-“

“Come, we must go. There’s no time.” He urged, his eyes locked on your trembling foot as he waited for you to move.

“Wait!” you raised your voice, only to get his attention. “I’m… I’m scared of flying. Terrified.” You gulped, now looking at the giant creature but careful to not make direct eye contact.

“You are?” His voice was soft, intent on not making you feel bad for something you couldn’t control. He looked conflicted. Neteyam was never the type of man to make you do something you didn’t want to do, but he truly had no choice.  “[Y/n], I am sorry, but we must. We need to tend to your wound as soon as possible. I understand your fear, so I will tell her to fly slow. No sharp tuns or dips, yes?”

Closing your eyes for a second, you sighed and slowly nodded your head. You attempted to calm yourself and slow your breathing as best as you could, knowing there was no other option but to face your fear. He waited for you to prepare yourself before swooping his arm below your legs and lifting you off the ground gently.

You actually wanted to kick yourself. To be in his arms was everything you wanted and more, minus the raging pain paired with numbness that was slowly starting to travel past your toes. You tightened your hold on his neck once arriving at the Ikran’s saddle and he felt your body tense against him.

“Mawey, [Y/n]. It will be alright, I promise.” Delicately placing you down on the back of his Ikran, he motioned for you to swing your other leg over before climbing on in front of you. “Hold here.” He reached behind him and grasped your hands, bringing them forward and positioning your palms  to lay flat on his toned chest.

Your heart was beating so fast, you were surprised you even heard his voice through the loud thumping ringing in your ears.

“You feel my heart?”

“Y-yes.” You nodded almost as soon as the question left his mouth. His heart was the only thing you could feel. Hell, you couldn’t even feel your legs but you knew the numbing poison hadn’t travelled through your bloodstream that fast. You prayed they would regain feeling so you wouldn’t fall off this giant bird.

“Slow your breathing, listen to the beat of my heart and allow yours to do the same.” He instructed calmly, fastening his hands on the reigns.

You swallowed what felt like a giant lump in your throat, scooting closer to him and leaning forward to press your front against his back as he prepared to take off. The feeling of your skin against his was enough to make your breath shudder, but you really couldn’t use anymore excitement right now. “What if I fall?” You whispered.

“Nonsense,” He chuckled lowly and the vibration of his voice could be felt against your cheek. “You know I’d never let anything happen to you.”

You pulled back ever so slightly, your mouth agape and your eyes staring at the back of his head in disbelief at how easily those words came to him. However, your moment of pondering was cut short when he beckoned his Ikran to take off, your grip retightening and your body gluing back to his instantly. The large animal squawked before plunging itself off the cliff, resulting in a frightened scream from you.

“Tamtam, Saya. We have a new rider with us, and she’s a bit fearful.”  Pulling up slightly, he used one of his hands to softly pat her strong neck to soothe her. The animal listened to his demands, flying steadily and slowing her pace to a gentle glide through the air. “How are you doing back there?” He asked, as if your nails digging crescent marks into his pecs couldn’t give him the answer he searched for.

Finally opening your eyes, you carefully peeked over your shoulder and peered down at the forest below you, letting out a small gasp. Softening the grip you had on the man in front of you, your eyes twinkled with admiration. “Neteyam, i-it’s beautiful…” you spoke in awe. You had never seen the forest from above until now and experiencing such a sight with him made you feel as if you had been missing out this entire time. You almost completely forgot about the fear that consumed you just a few minutes prior.

After a few more minutes, Saya began to descend in front of your home- pulling you out of the spell the beauty of the forest had cast on you. The flight came to a gradual halt and her wings flapped in place to cushion the landing as much as possible. You saw the flickering of candle flame illuminating from inside.

Oh no. Please don’t be awake, please don’t be awake, please do not be awake.

Silently cursing yourself, you removed your hands from Neteyam’s chest. You secretly pouted at the sudden lack of warmth, but right now you had bigger issues to tend to- one of them being facing your mother. Neteyam dismounted swiftly, giving you a reassuring look and allowing you time to slide one of your arms around his neck before lifting you off, carrying you bridal style. “Not so bad, huh?”

Both your heads snapped to the entrance of your home as you watched your mother run out before you could answer him. “[Y/N!]” She yelled, not caring if her voice carried to the other homes. “Where have you been?!”

She looked worried sick, you felt terrible.

“Neteyam?” She questioned, obviously confused as to why he was with you- or maybe why you weren’t standing on your own two feet.

“Hi Ma…” You started, earning an angry glare from her. “I can explain.”

She whipped a hand up and closed her fingers, effectively silencing you as she turned her gaze back to Neteyam. “Young man, what were you doing with my daughter, this late in the night?” Her voice was eerily calm.

He lowered his head slightly to show respect. “I am sorry, I will explain everything… but your daughter is injured and we must tend to it, immediately.”

Her expression changed instantly, her eyes searching to find a wound until she noticed your swollen foot. “Oh my goodness… Come!” She demanded, urging Neteyam to bring you into the house.

“Place her down, here. Gently.”

He did as he was told and crouched down, removing his arm from beneath your legs once you sat down completely. He ran his now sweaty hands along his thighs and with his mouth in the shape of an ‘O’ he exhaled nervously, standing and obediently placing himself against the wall. He looked scared shitless and was more than happy to remove his hands from your skin in the presence of your agitated mother. You looked up at him apologetically, mouthing a silent ‘I’m sorry’.

You winced in pain at your throbbing foot, taking over for Neteyam and explaining to your mother what had happened before she could ask again. “I-I stepped in a thorn bush,” You paused, reluctantly continuing your sentence. “the poisonous one…”

She hissed in distaste, her back to you as she gathered what was needed to make medicine. “Everyday you go out, what do I tell you?” She seethed.

“Be care-“

“To be careful!” She cut you off before you could finish and you winced again, but not because of your foot. She lowered herself to the ground and propped your foot up on her leg to examine it. “You are lucky, child. The thorns could have broken off in your foot and put you in much worse shape.” She grumbled, wetting a cloth and using it to clean the dried blood from your skin.

“I know, and I’m sorry. I lost track of time and got distracted.” The pain began to subside as the poison completely numbed your foot, now working its way up your calf.

You watched her gaze shift to a nervous Neteyam who stood stiff and silent against the walls of your hut, looking at him suspiciously while he tried to find the right words to use.

“Ma, please.” You pleaded, your voice bringing her attention back to you like you wanted. “It was not like that, I swear it. He found me after I stepped on the thorns, had it not been for him I would not have been able to make it back.” You had lied a bit, but it was mostly the truth. “He had nothing to do with this, it was all my fault. He only helped me home, Mama.” You didn’t want her blaming Neteyam for something that wasn’t his doing, he had enough of that at home. Your mother was extremely protective over you because of what happened to your father, you were all she had left so she always came on strong at first when it concerned you.

She became quiet in a moment of contemplation, “I apologize, Neteyam. Thank you for bringing my daughter back to me safely.” She nodded her head, looking up at Neteyam with gratitude this time.

He smiled shyly as if it were no big deal, holding his arm with one hand as he dropped his head and shook it from from side to side, his braids following suit. He hadn’t changed a bit. Always quick to take the blame, but never to accept praise.

“Will your parents be angry with you?” You chimed in, looking at him worriedly. He already had so much on his plate, you felt bad at the thought of contributing. You relaxed slightly once he shook his head in attempt to assure you that he would be okay.

“It is fine, really. Making sure you are safe is far more important to me.” He responded, looking into your eyes and keeping them there until your mother cleared her throat to remind the two of you of her presence.  “Ah, but I really should be going. It is late.” He swallowed, managing to tear his eyes away from your face. “Will she be alright?”

Your mother nodded, wiping the wet cloth along the sole of your foot once more. “Yes, thanks to you. Please, greet your parents for me?”

You watched as he brought two fingers up to his forehead then brought them back down with a slight bow, respectfully acknowledging your mother and excusing himself.

“Goodnight…” You sent him off with a coy wave, bringing your fingers up to gently rest against your lips as you watched him leave. The second he was out of your sight, everything that had just transpired in the last hour and a half began to wash back over you.

Thanking Eywa that your mother’s back was turned to grab few ingredients for an ointment, you looked to the side and picked up your bag, feeling slightly guilty. “I brought your herbs, mama. I’m sorry you have to waste them on me.” Your voice trailed off as you ushered them off in her direction.

“Nonsense. When it comes to you, nothing is a waste. We can always get more herbs, but I only have one of you. Do you understand?” She reassured, her hand on your cheek to comfort you before reaching for your bag. “You mean much more to me than any of these things.”

Your shoulders relaxed and you leaned into her touch with a sweet smile and a nod, grateful you had such a caring mother. You watched as she expertly ground up the herbs with a bit of aloe vera, her technique crafting it into paste that would aid in the healing of your injury. She dipped two of her fingers into the bowl, gently applying it to the puncture marks in your flesh.

“So…” She started, her voice laced with curiosity.

You groaned, bringing your hands up to cover your face in embarrassment as you already knew a boatload of questions were about to follow. Regardless of how tough your mother could be with him, she was surprisingly supportive of your crush on Neteyam and even encouraged it. You always made sure to tell her what a respectful young man he was.

“I haven’t even said anything yet!” She laughed, grabbing the bandage next to her and wrapping it around your foot as she continued. “Look, I just think you should go for it. You should to tell him how you feel, don’t you think he deserves to know?”

You sighed and looked down at your hands, twiddling with your fingers as you thought of what to say. “I don’t know Ma… I don’t want to get hurt. His parents want him to find a mate now, but he said he isn’t ready.”

“My sweet child,” Your mom took your hands into hers, causing you to look up at her.  “He is waiting for you.”

a/n: Alright y’all, the first part of my Neteyam x reader series is doneeee ahh I’m so excited!! Isn’t Neteyam the sweetest? 🙈 I really hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! It took about three days and so many grueling proof reads, so if they’re still any typos I missed I apologize. 😅 I am actively tweaking my brain for more ideas for the upcoming parts, so please forgive me if part 2 takes a second to drop. lmk if you want to be tagged! 💞

Please like + reblog if you can it’s much appreciated 💞

[captainkurosolaire]

Prompt #7 ~ A Tale Saved

Previous - ♫Raccoon City♫ - References

(Third Person: Narrative) "I never speculated. It'd be you who saved my life... again. In youth an unsung hero emerged and rescued me. Showed me hope and taught me to be brave. When I seemed to be sentenced to abuse. 'You're going to learn overtime you'll be in power, and th' Captain of yer fate!' This stuck with me. I dedicated to learning medicine, so I could spread in healing people, like you affected me." A quill bronze-skinned feminine hand took pause from her diary entry. -- Sometimes those who hurt the most, are those wishing to prevent others from experiencing the same struggles, prevent from suffering in that horrible realm, that seems nearly inescapable. They put on tough faces for others to prevent showing old wounds that still linger, trauma doesn't disappear instantaneously. It's a processed mend which paces in everyone's unique recovery. When finding work in a free clinic underneath the slob, mangy, putrid soul's of the lower and less regarded, she always held work with suturing and stitching up squabbles between pirate's, rowdy uncontested foul. A place in which her past carried the most wounds, she returned wanting to find more. While redefining that place. The learning experience and challenge of continuous work, left her unknowingly developing remarkable skills. Of course her failure's in saving netted her many unpleasant threats from Crew-mates, Captain's, she couldn't fix up or yells. It was easier to lay the fault of the healer in grievance. Then a fool or unwise decisions caused by the injured and the company responsible for securing the well-being of their fellow. Bottling up and stacking her shortcomings, she woke up with only her will in activity, reinvigorated to hone better, determined and reciting to herself, that fateful day she was shown kindness in a cruel world if it existed, at all... Slowly steadily she earned a reputation and whispered rumors of her talents in the realm of an underground circuit of criminal's, heathens, outcasts. Though she never heard this appraisal or bolster at first because of the nature of her clients.

Remembering that maintaining positive influence is a battle. It's more likely to be uncovered and swallowed with misfortune and realism because it comes in more dreadful abundance. Helplessness felt like strangling her chest. It didn't matter how much she cauterized and bandaged, or fixed, it kept spilling over the staples that never lasted. She felt eventually her passion was becoming aimless and starting to wither again. The First Crewmate brandished in gold appeared at the clinic with a cutthroat approach. His motions were proposed. "I require you... My grandmother is gravely injured and cannot use the function of her arms." Naturally she rejected sweetly, "You'll have to bring her during business hours and follow the queue." The seemingly unreadable only registered as another barbaric brute who couldn't get what they wanted sighed out and pulled out a deadly knife. "You'll find the time to save them." I was reminded of my past, the same abuser and all those I walk aside that run quantities in Limsa, I felt pitiful that my voice remained mute. Then as that First Crewmate honed in a linkpearl call to demand their client. I never suspected it'd be a Captain; the same one from my childhood and neither did I suspect you also recognized me. Damaged and appendage arm's that couldn't be lifted ton's more scars, scrapes, wounds and I could tell was also conflicted approached. And instead you rejected and redefined everything one would assume by the surface. "Judas... Ye really holding her hostage? I'm sorry mate, but this isn't how I'll be treated. I'd rather remain, armless and dysfunctional... You haven't any clue what the sacrifice cost a healer or how they're never given proper gratitude for the lives they save, especially under this rat-sack of a City-State. Long ago, I wouldn't have been any better, I'd selfishly desire only t' see myself conditioned. I owe my past. Debt's aren't a pirate's comfort." Confused, the two bickered against each-other. It's when I saw the frustration and panic, the First Crewmate who was forced to disarm, was doing this out of not only reason, but admiration and love. He stormed off irritated with almost a disappointing and deadly dirk-gaze. Then I watched heels beginning to leave determinedly willingly to go without preserving themselves selfishly, rather be shattered, while also an apology was muttered low. I froze as if time was halted. The curiosities and you disappearing again, like almost, as if you were a ghost. There once, then vanishing without a trace of peep. Eventually that's when I found myself first following. Finding out you were troubled too like myself. I couldn't fix the arm's entirely but instead you praised me for my attempt and then you offered me a job, or to join your Crew. To explore mending outside and maybe expanding out would do me better, you said. I struggled joining for a while, but because it was you, I saw you held hope for me. The Crew is assorted with amazing wild people, from all acts of cultures, each carrying such lofty dreams, grand visions. Most larger than themselves. I felt like an outcast, and when you needed me the most and the Crew. When that dark-caster appeared, Silv'a, on the seas, turning me to a sheep, I once again felt useless and discouraged, defeated. Tried silently to vanish and not be a burden. I felt only the emotion of drowning under the pressure. Attempting to plunge deep down under the seabed. But you showed up on the decks even at night when all others were asleep, you saw how I shut myself in days and became more quiet and reached to me. Like I was a star, you once already saw loss. "...Casta, it's because yer ordinary. You fit with us. You remind us ov' everything we may forget or miss. You're special beyond all. We-- I need you upon this sea-vessel in my life. I don't need you to become violent, or monstrous, I need you to be yourself, and remind me what it's like not to be one." "You exist as a world, only you can Captain and show me. I will follow and always b' there t' see yer wonders and secure t' protect; you

and I... Believe we can heal together. Though your steps are yer own, what do you wish?" You said with an arm extending out, ready to give an embrace, or still chase to throw yourself under with me. I could see in your eyes that you knew what it felt to be alone and tried hoisting others from the same. It was a step away from walking overboard, or turning to you and the sail. I'm writing and devoting these chapters to this journey, this is my diary logs reciting, The Tales of the Goldbrand... I want all to know even though you believe in fading like the pirate's of old. I chose to live, Captain... You showed me what that means, again... - My Captain, who saved your Crew Surgeon, Casta. <3

[diaryofamadhealermain]

Piers Plays Pugs: Red Mages are Under-appreciated

Or

Don’t Queue at 6 AM

Log on to do Omicrons before work because I didn't do them yesterday evening. I have some time. 90 roulette heals in need? Aight bet.

Dead ends.

I consider leaving. I make the incorrect decision and stay because godsdamned Godbert Manderville. I want the tomes.

Gunbreaker only uses arms length, until I let them drop to 20%, and *then* I get a rampart. Okay, okay. It's operation bare minimum then, ok ok. The red mage is also continuously ripping aggro, so I have to spot heal them.

First boss, gnb and smn eat it to miasmata. rdm tanks it like a champ while I get a swift raise out. get us healed up enough i can hard raise the smn with a kerachole ticking for some targeted aoes coming. And the aoes come, I'm casting....the tank runs and stands on me.

The joke is on you, potato. I don't want to be here.

I don't move.

At the last second, the potato chickens out and runs. I get my cast off.

The gnb still isn't using cool downs. Just out here in space, taking weird alien busters raw.

Pulls to the second boss go much the same as the first. Arm's length. Rampart near death. Red mage is making friends. Notably, the summoner is not making friends at all. Interesting

Second boss. I try to be very mindful of my positioning here, because it's a big arena, and mechanics make the center a bad place zone and keep the party separated for most of the fight. I try to be on the boss' butt and between the dps if I can be. Nah, the red mage fucks off next to the tank. The smn is following me, which usually isn't the worst idea but we have aoes so I'm running, they're following, the tank still isn't using cool downs, and the red mage is out of range. This goes about as well as you would expect, but I manage it so only the tank dies to not using cool downs on busters, and let the red mage tank for a second while I get the potato un-mashed. This red mage is a fantastic sport. I regret I can only give them one comm for this.

Last set of pulls. The gnb has realized something is wrong, but has determined, Principal Skinner style, that it is the healer who is wrong, and starts to single pull. Ok ok. So they get kardia and soteria, until they literally need a druochole to live. *Now* I see camouflage and aurora.

Still having to watch the red mage like a hawk, because they're still incredibly popular with mobs.

I find it worth mentioning that someone here isn't rolling on loot. I n t e r e s t i n g.

Get to Rala, finally.

Gnb and Smn both stand in overlapping circles of Prance. Predictably, they both hit the floor. Shield the rdm, get the tank up, heal up, hard cast smn up, wash rinse repeat.

I imagine them thinking to themselves, should we move out of these line aoes? Nah, it is the healer who is responsible. The smn eats it again.

Now the rdm helps with a raise. okay. Heal up.

Stack marker. I get out a mit and a shield and the tank doesn't stack.

O. KAY.

Do I need to say how done I am. Super done. So done.

Meteion did nothing wrong.

Tank eats it to prance.

Rala is at 3%.

Kardia. Red mage.

Kill.

Out.

Never again.

[lunchdumpling]

∴ hello, i’m ld ∵

saltypeppering >>> lunchdumpling (* ´∀ ｀ *)

you can expect a little bit of everything i like here including but not limited to: kpop, kdramas, anime, and video games. more info about me in under the 'read more'!

i track my url and my ask & submit is pretty much always open, so feel free to say howdy. i also tend to forget tumblr and get caught up with life so i post infrequently if i don’t have posts in the queue.

quick stuff about me

age: 23

pronouns: she/her

identities: asian american, ♠️ ace-spec

astrology: ☼ scorpio, ☽ gemini ↑

personality:

temperament: melancholic

mbti: infj-t

enneagram: 1w2 or 6?

currently

watching: naruto (from da BEGINNING BABEY), hometown cha cha cha, community, our beloved summer

reading: too many webtoons, you are here *for now by adam j. kurtz

obsessing over: animal crossing new horizons, exo/do kyungsoo, birds (or any other pet tbh), bouldering, environmentalism, sewing, beading

trying to fix my blog tags, participate in local conservation, get into p&s photography with a 35mm

some of my faves

🎵 kpop: exo, blackpink, shinee, f(x), big bang, block b, dean, zico, iu

🎮 games: animal crossing, maplestory, league of legends/tft, professor layton

📺 tv series: avatar the last airbender, game of thrones, the good place

💗 kdramas: healer, 100 days my prince, suspicious partner, she was pretty, crash landing on you, vincenzo

🌸 anime: mawaru penguindrum, princess tutu, polar bear cafe, your name

📚 webtoons/comics: spirit fingers, super secret, nice to meet you, devil number 4, lore olympus, wind breaker, murrz, suitor armor, seasons of blossom, romance 101, nevertheless, homestuck (? never finished but rip)

…

ok enjoy thx!

last updated: may 2022

[femmefest]

FEMMEFEST WEEKLY ROUND-UP: WEEK 1

banner and art: @kiertorata

​ This is it! Behold the first week of art and fic creations! Keep on commenting and showing your love for wlw fics and art! We've been so happy to see all the excitement and joy that these pieces have created <3

Solid Ground — A gift for the_kellephant | ao3 Lily Evans/Marlene McKinnon Summary: Lily and Marlene are casual, until Lily decides she wants more. And if she has to find it with someone else, then so be it. fic | 1100 words | T The Professor, The Quidditch Star, The Werewolf (& the women they love) — A Gift for the-scarfofsexualpreference | ao3 Hermione/Pansy. Ginny/Luna. Lavender/Parvati Summary: They give a whole new meaning to power!couple. art | digital | G Blood is Rare and Sweet — A Gift for flyingharmony | ao3 Andromeda/Bellatrix Summary: In the spring of 1979, Bellatrix began sending Andromeda messages in the bodies of members of the Order of the Phoenix. fic | 7k | E Back in My Body — A Gift for flipflop_diva | ao3 Pansy/Ginny Summary: Pansy is alone, and Ginny refuses to be anything but. Pansy is surviving, and Ginny is afraid of what will happen when she ceases to self destruct. Pansy knows who she is, but she has no way to live for herself. Ginny insists upon selfishness, but has no idea what she wants. What at first glance seems volatile and fool-hearty has the potential to teach the most important of lessons and soothe the deepest of wounds. It is the paradox of love. fic | 3673 words | E Starstruck/Moonlight — A Gift for NachoDiablo | ao3 Cho Chang/Fleur Delacour, Lily Evans/Narcissa Black Summary: Healer Fleur can't keep it together when she spots Famous Quidditch player Cho Chang at a gala. Narcissa Black and Lily Evans share a heated moment during an Order mission. art | digital | E i probably should know your name — A gift for ufohnoparty | ao3 Ginny/Luna (plus background slash) Summary: Ginny is working on a display of biscuits when Neville says, “She’s back.” She doesn’t need to ask who. There’s no question. fic | 2970 words | T Afternoon delight — A gift for maraudersaffair | ao3 Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson Summary: Minister Granger is busy at work, but that doesn't mean she won't have time for an... ✨afternoon delight✨ fic | 2151 words | E The Hot Mess Express — A gift for hippocrates460 | ao3 Minerva McGonagall/Rolanda Hooch Summary: Being Albus's Deputy Headmistress was bad enough before Gilderoy Lockhart showed up… fic | 16624 words | M (I wish I was a thought) I'd run all through your mind — A gift for evening12 | ao3 Ginny Weasley/Pansy Parkinson Summary:Ginny joined the nearest queue at the bar and tried her best to look natural, like she belonged there. She was working so hard at perfecting her look of casual indifference that she didn’t notice the person sidle up next to her until she spoke. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Ginny Weasley.” Or, Ginny and Pansy meet by accident in a Muggle gay bar fic | 1857 words | T

[writeyouin]

Swerve X Reader – Changes - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Whispers in the Silence

A/N – After a very successful vote in which Swerve won out, here is the next chapter. As always, a great thanks to @rocksinmuffin​ for continuing to inspire this story with their amazing imagines.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

As a rule, the Lost Light was a ship that prided itself on noise, adventure and laughter, but with you in sick bay, under the careful operation of three medics and two scientists, the ship held nothing but a deep and terrible silence. It didn’t matter that Swerve was quietly sobbing outside the operating theatre; the ship was still a static void in which no sound mattered.

If you were beside him, Swerve knew you would make the best of such a situation, probably saying something like, ‘Huh, I guess in space, nobody can hear you scream. Who’d’ve guessed?’

When Swerve was in the operating theatre all that time ago, you left him a message to listen to until he got back. He had listened to it over seventy-two times while you were in the medics’ servos, if only to hear your voice again. Primus, it wasn’t fair! Swerve couldn’t leave you a message because you weren’t Cybertronian, and worse than that, he wasn’t even allowed to be in the same room as you because Ratchet had thrown him out when he started to get in the way.

Swerve looked up when he heard a door open, but it wasn’t the operating theatre, it was only the waiting room entrance that led to the decks. Tailgate waved awkwardly at Swerve, soon lowering his servo out of respect. He and Cyclonus simply made their way to the right-hand wall and left two small vials of their innermost energon before leaving to stand with the bots in the corridor; that made exactly ninety-seven vials of innermost energon thus far. Swerve was glad that none of the others tried talking to him upon leaving their energon; for once, he was in no mood to talk. He also appreciated that the bots outside were staggering their queue times in leaving their innermost energon. One or two bots would come in every half hour or so to leave their vials, and before the day was through, Swerve was sure there would be almost two-hundred vials for you. It seemed everyone loved you, almost as much as he did.

Another round of sobbing racked Swerve’s body. He pulled out his locket with your hair in it, clutching it close to his spark, as if it might will you back to full health. The two of you had only been married one year, how could the universe be so cruel as to threaten that so soon?

“Swerve?”

Swerve shook his head, as a memory of your voice surfaced, followed closely by a visual feed of the event in his processor’s optic.

“(Y/N)?” Swerve beamed, repeating your confused tone, even though he was well-aware of what you were going to ask.

“I um- I know we said we were going to re-decorate the hab-suite, but why… why does it look like the friends set?”

“You don’t like purple?” He asked all too innocently.

You jumped as a laugh-track played aloud, “Oh my God…. You didn’t. Swerve, tell me you didn’t add a laugh track to the apartment.”

Swerve looked far into the background, winking at nothing, “Maybe.”

The laughter briefly continued, only escalating when you face-palmed.

“Why are you like this?”

At that, Swerve only chuckled and splashed you with paint, triggering the first of what he hoped would be many paint fights along your life together.

Coolant sprung from Swerve’s optics and he choked out another sob. That memory was from April Fool’s Day and he had re-decorated the apartment with you properly the day after. Swerve prayed to both Primus and every deity he knew of on Earth that you would come out of this okay and that he wouldn’t have to live with the weight of his mistake forever.

He needed you. Couldn’t the universe see that? He needed you to reassure him that everything would be okay. He needed you to come in the bar every day and lean over to kiss him, no matter what anyone else muttered under their breaths about him. He needed you to waylay the fears and doubts from his mind that he wasn’t good enough.

More than that, he wanted to be there for you as-well.

“(Y/N)! ARE YOU SICK? PLEASE, TELL ME WHAT’S WRONG!”

Swerve scrunched his optics shut as another memory hit him like a tonne of bricks.

You were curled up in pain, hugging yourself and groaning. You forced yourself to shake your head, shuddering as you breathed out slowly. “Shark week,” You winced.

“SHARK WEEK?” Swerve cried. You had already forewarned him of this, but he didn’t think it would hurt you so badly. Hurriedly, he ran to your tiny cupboards, bringing out extra blankets, a two-litre bottle of water, several boxes of pills (one of which surely had to be the right one), a large bar of synthetic chocolate, and a heat pad. After you mentioned shark week the first time to him, Swerve had visited Ratchet to learn what would help you and Ratchet had given him these supplies.

“Which do you need?” Swerve asked frantically.

You could tell he was about to go into full-blown panic mode, as he usually did when he first encountered some new experience of organic life that he hadn’t seen before. Before you were married, you had generally avoided him when this happened to save him from any embarrassment, but now the two of you were married, you knew he wouldn’t be awkward about organic matters; well, not that awkward anyway.

Sitting up slowly, you took a few sips of water, smiling when the nausea passed, “Good job sweetie. I’m all better now.”

Swerve pointed an accusatory finger at you, “No! that’s your placating smile, not your happy smile. Tell me the truth, do you need Ratchet? Are you still in pain? If so, how much pain? Should I get Rodimus to stop on a nearby planet? I could-”

For once, you left Swerve to rant on, while you simply went to sleep. In retrospect, that wasn’t your best idea as he gasped and sped of to the medical bay, dragging Ratchet back with him, but honestly you were too tired at the time to answer his questions. After giving you the once-over, Ratchet gave Swerve a stern-talking to about heeding his research into humans before wasting his time.

“If (Y/N) says she’s fine, she’s fine,” Ratchet glowered, walking out of the hab-suite. “Next time, listen to her before you come to me.”

Swerve chewed his lip anxiously, before approaching you again. Now you were well-rested, you were sat under a blanket with the heating pad over your stomach.

“You’re really okay?” he asked.

“With you to take care of me? Always.”

Swerve stared at the operating theatre door. That was the problem; he wasn’t there for you now. Granted, Swerve was smarter than most bots gave him credit for, but he wasn’t a doctor or a scientist. He didn’t have healer’s hands. He was a barman. Why in Primus’ name had you married him instead of somebody useful? You could have been with somebody who listened to you when you told him not to cross that bridge. You could have been with someone who hadn’t got you shot.

The hall door swished open again and Rung came quietly in to leave his innermost energon. He looked like he wanted to say something to Swerve, perhaps even comfort him, but he knew the protocol was to stay quiet when somebody's Conjunx Endurae was in in fate’s servos. Swerve could have invited him over, giving Rung permission to comfort him. After all, Rung was almost like a creator to you, but quite frankly, Swerve didn’t think he deserved to be comforted when all of this was his fault.

“What are you doing married to Swerve anyway? Don’t you know there are better mechs onboard this ship?”

Swerve could hear the cheesy 70’s music playing in his bar as if it was yesterday. He had briefly left you to grab some supplies from the back but when he heard Getaway say that, he remained hidden, knowing it was wrong to listen in on you like this, but needing to hear your response all the same.

“Please don’t talk about my husband that way,” You said, giving the overcharged mech a chance to back off and apologise before you ripped into him.

“Come on, he’s not even here right now,” Getaway guffawed, admittedly somewhat jealous that you loved Swerve instead of him, even though the two of you had hardly spoken before; Getaway always coveted that which he did not have. “He won’t hear what you really think about him.”

‘If only that were true,’ Swerve thought, though he still continued to eavesdrop.

“I mean, who would really notice if you and I just kind of slipped away right now to have some fun. You’ve got to have wondered what it would be like with another, more charming mech right?”

Swerve gulped, sure he was going to purge his tanks out of nervousness. He knew for a fact that most mechs considered Getaway to be charming and none considered him to be.

“Hmm,” you said thoughtfully. “You’re really good at sex?”

Swerve fell against the wall, wanting to claw out his audials, but frozen in place as the conversation continued.

“The best.”

“Good, then go fuck yourself, and never ever talk about my husband like that again. Swerve is ten times the mech you are.”

Giddy elation filled Swerve up and he rushed out from the supply closet, pretending he hadn’t heard a thing. He could have waited a little bit longer to compose himself, but he was afraid Getaway might be just overcharged enough to hurt you if you injured his pride any more than you already had. Getaway left irately and you turned your attention to Swerve who pretended he hadn’t heard a thing.

“What’s his problem?” Swerve asked casually, though he could hardly keep the giggle out of his vocaliser.

You shrugged, “Small man syndrome.”

“Huh? Okay, whatever you say, (Y/N).”

Before any more memories could torture him, the med-bay door finally opened and Ratchet stepped out, looking grimmer than ever. Swerve wanted to blurt out a million questions, but fearing for your life and knowing every second counted, he waited through the agonising seconds for Ratchet to speak.

“I have sent the medical team into the back so you and (Y/N) can spend some time alone, but I hope you are ready to face the consequences of what you have done Swerve. The lies you’ve told her – to everyone on this ship – will not go unnoticed.”

Swerve swallowed fearfully, “But she’s alive? She’s going to be alright?”

Ratchet considered the question before answering, “Physically, yes. Mentally however… Only time will tell. If you will excuse me, I’m going to join my team in med-bay two, where we will wait until you are ready.”

Swerve waited momentarily for Ratchet to back-track though the medical bay; it gave him a few minutes to compose himself and think of what he would say when he saw you. Then, forgetting his composure, he ran into the medical bay, stopping short when he saw you, in your new Cybertronian body. He knew there was a chance this would happen, but he had told Perceptor and Brainstorm to wait until they were sure your organic body couldn’t be saved.

Swerve looked to the bed across from you, where a sheet covered the corpse of your previous organic body. Why hadn’t he immediately told you about the mini-bot shell he’d had made? If he had, he knew the conversation ahead would be easier. All the same, your optics were offline and Swerve knew by instinct that Ratchet and the others had left them off to give him the chance to explain before you saw yourself.

Before he approached you, he took a few silent steps over to the organic corpse. He held the corner of the sheet that covered it, hesitating before he lifted it to look into your cold dead eyes. He needed to see this, to burn it into his memory of what his mistakes brought on. Granted, your mind and memories were still alive, but this mess of a cadaver that had been stitched up by servos inexperienced with organics, that still had patches of dried blood caked around the sealed wound, was his cross to bear.

Finally, when he could look at it no longer, Swerve covered the corpse with a sheet again, and moved to your side.

“(Y/N),” Swerve whispered.

You moved your head frantically to your left where he was standing, “SWERVE?! I- I CAN’T SEE- I CAN’T-”

Swerve grabbed your servo, “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m going to explain everything. What- What do you remember?”

You went quiet for a long time, thinking back to the bridge. Almost silently, you spoke, “I was shot.”

Swerve nodded affirmation, speaking aloud when he remembered you couldn’t see, “Yeah… That was it. (Y/N), I’m so, so sorry this happened to you. It was all my fault. I never should have put you through that. Uh- (Y/N), the docs here, they’ve been working on you for a really long time.”

“Swerve… Am I blind?”

“No sweetheart, that’s only temporary, I promise you’re not blind.”

“Then are you- are you in holoform? You hand feels so small, but it doesn’t feel like skin. Swerve, what’s wrong with me? Nothing feels right. I don’t feel real. I know it doesn’t make sense, but I feel all wrong inside.”

“Yeah, about that… (Y/N), I need to tell you something… Something I should have told you when we got married, and I need you to listen okay.”

“Okay,” You shivered, and coolant leaked from your offlined optics.

Swerve pressed his helm to your servo. “From the moment we wed, I was so scared something like this might happen… That you’d get hurt and I’d lose you. So, I had Perceptor and Brainstorm work on something, a- a new body of sorts. I- I was scared that you would think I was trying to change you, so I didn’t warn you about it, but now- Well, now you’re different.”

“Swerve,” You whimpered, “You’re not making sense.”

“I know… (Y/N), I’m going to sort out your eyes, make them work right, y’know. Please trust me, okay?”

It seemed you weren’t focusing on what he was saying, as you groaned, “My head hurts.”

Swerve sighed solemnly, then opened your head panel to reveal your processor. From there, he connected the wire that would allow you normal control of your optics. As your optics flickered to life, you caught a reflection of yourself and Swerve in the chrome wall across from you. Your previously human mind tried and failed to connect with the newer faster Cybertronian processor. You couldn’t make sense of what was happening. Swerve had his servos inside your head and all you could feel was numbness where you should have felt pain. Everything from your past and present crashed together in a way you couldn’t handle. Then, you screamed.

Like my work? Buy me a coffee and earn preview of the next fic, or commission me on the commissions page.

[reformedmercymain]

Could I ask why it's bad to learn all three roles? I like to play all three and which I play that day depends on my mood and queueing with

I talk way too much there’s a tldr almost everything below can be skipped bc I’m too tired to condense it in a way that... works

I would say it’s not bad to learn all three roles, but I’d say it’s bad for *improving* to learn all three at once. It falls into the same category of playing who has similar abilities - which is super important for improvement. As I usually bring up (easiest example) practicing hitscan that trace, like tracer/soldier/etc will have very transferable skills, where as jumping between soldier and genji will be more difficult to learn each one since you’re focusing on entirely different skill sets. Every role exists because it fills a specific need (hot takes from Miss Cee Reformedmercymain here tonight.) There are heroes that blur where they could be placed, but still serve their primary function landing them there. Ana can do great dps, but she’s better as a healer and therefore she’s in the healing category etc etc.   Each role requires different kinds of awareness, and different perspectives on how the game overall is going. So much like jumping between soldier and genji - you’re trying to learn a bunch of varied skills that don’t transfer between each other. Swapping between tank and healer are the same in that they’re different ways to look at the game as a whole, with different playstyles and different ways of viewing the game entirely. Those views of how you’re looking at the game as a whole aren’t easily transferable for the same reason - a different kind of overview that you have to pay attention to. It’s why maintank is my most difficult role - it’s a completely different way to play the game, to view the game, and to participate in the game. If I wanted to improve my maintank I’d put all of my dps/support/offtank on the backburner so I could come at the game ready to learn an entirely new way of playing the game. (That really is the most unique role in my opinion - I have a *lot* of respect for MT mains and I’ll always stand by that.) The easiest way to put playing all three into words is there’s nothing *wrong* with it, but the saying “jack of all trades” ends with “a master of none” for a reason. Spreading yourself thin in what you’re learning can lead to you being proficient at many different things - but it would be *very* difficult to get to mastery of those skills. If you’re doing it for fun/playing casually it makes plenty of sense. However, if you’re looking to improve you really need to target it.  To master a skill with that targeting is difficult, and is best done in small groups at a time - again as I always say, small groups of heroes with similar abilities/skillsets will help build the muscle memory faster. Learning tracer and soldier together are great, learning widowmaker and mccree together are great (and ashe I guess.) Tracing hitscan and pinpoint hitscan. They’re *both* hitscan but they’re actually different playstyles. Flicking vs. Tracing basically. They both will require time to build the neural pathways that come with it to make you faster at it/more competent as time goes on. Flicking and tracing would be easier to work on in tandem (I’d recommend one at a time still) than hitscan and projectile since they have no transferable skills. Even flicking is different as it’s adding a new level of prediction. Learning projectile will also be building new neural pathways, but they won’t translate to the rest. You’ll still be improving, but most likely on a much smaller scale. The transferable thing between all of those is general awareness and finding a deeper understanding of how to play your own role. It’ll just... be improvement on a much flatter scale. What you play more, you’ll do better at with equivalent practice.  IMO it’ll *always* go better if you learn one (small) group of similar heroes/skills and THEN come back and look at the game when you’re better and know what to look for in your own gameplay to begin with. That’s what I did, at least, and it worked really well for me. I write hitscan specialist in my BYF and such now, but that’s because I *can* play what I find most enjoyable (hitscan dps LOL), now that the age of goats is gone, but by doing that I *am* in fact a very flexible player in many heroes across all roles, but I don’t think I could’ve gotten here with trying all at once. Spreading yourself thin will slow you down in improving. It doesn’t mean you’ll stagnate, but it just means you won’t improve “as fast” if that’s what matters to you.  TL;DR: because I’m fucking incapable of writing anything succinct It’s only “bad” if you’re not looking to improve at the game quickly. It’s fine to play whatever you want if it’s what makes you happy, but when looking to “really” improve it’s better to do it one section at a time. The sections are also smaller than just the overall “dps” “support” etc. Up top I talk about tracing hitscan vs pinpoint hitscan, for example. Do whatever you find fun though, I just mean targeted improvement is what’s ultimately the most effective. Again, improvement vs fun. Not always hand in hand, but it can be. For me I found hitscan to be fun no matter what, so being able to play hitscan was both fun AND a challenge to improve.  even my tldrs are long sorry anon

[cutiehealer]

4 lesbian Snow White icons & one trans Snow White icon for pride!

[totallycorrectffxivquotes]

Accidentally ran Ifrit today with my Marauder (I gotta slow down in menus lol) & straight up forgot to tank stance till someone told me in chat, nobody died at all though so I call it a win! Then I go into Stone Vigil as DPS & hoooh boy this tank was I m p a t i e n t, rounding corners, pulling everything, we wiped twice before even getting to the first boss! No crowd control, constantly going out of sight of the healer, I'm genuinely amazed we beat the boss in only 1 try!

No worries on that first part. There are plenty of times where I’ve accidentally queued for something without realizing because I forgot to unclick it and didn’t notice until queue pops for it.

The second part of that story reminds me when my friends needed to run Dzemael Darkhold for the first time and I ran it healer and we kept wiping because tank kept running ahead and out of my range because he wanted to get out of there as fast as possible and when I asked him to slow down so I could keep up with healing him he just left the party and this was right after the second boss so he really didn’t have much left to slow down on lol (his loss for wasting 20 minutes on a dungeon) -- Some people just really don’t have that patience to slow down a bit, take in the dungeon, enjoy what time you have with a new party, and I don’t understand why.

[fragmenthearted]

//T-T it's nice not having to wait 20 minutes in the duty queue but... being the healer is stressful...

[chrysalispen]

v. the clays of a cold star

am working on the daily prompt free for all, but in the meantime it’s sunday so also have a chapter for reborn by fire aha

======

All told, Aurelia privately hadn't expected much out of an Eorzean infirmary.

It would, frankly, have been unfair of her. The technology gap between the Empire and most of Aldenard was more like a vast yawning chasm (though there were rumors, largely unsubstantiated, that Cid nan Garlond had defected to Eorzea specifically to close said gap), so she'd assumed that the procedures would be... well... primitive, at least compared to the working conditions to which she was accustomed.

What she encountered was not quite as bad as she'd feared, but still worse than she'd hoped. There were so many people lying abed within the first pavilion that there was scarce any room to walk. The man called Sparrow was carefully placing his footfalls on what small patches of uncovered ground still existed so as not to disturb the bedrolls with their passage.

As they slipped out the back towards the tent that had been erected for a surgery, Aurelia was astonished to see even more wounded. The line stretched outside, with some soldiers unable to stand and sitting or lying in the mus and cold water, while others were left to mill about with minor wounds and shivering in the rain that still fell.

Hells below, the Garlean thought, dismayed.

Two Hyur were working over a table, their aprons bloodied, while a third poured aether into their subject with an outstretched hand. As Sparrow and Edwin approached, an elezen woman emerged from the opposite side of the tent, scowling at them. She wore a long white apron of the sort Aurelia recognized instantly.

"Oh for Nophica's sweet sake," she spat, throwing up her hands, "how many times do I have to tell you lot, no jumping the queue. Everyone will be seen in the order they arrive, now back to the line with you."

Sparrow coughed.

"Uh, beggin' yer pardon, Léonie, but the prisoner's got to be seen to before we can take her to the holding area."

"Another imperial, eh?" A pair of tired hazel eyes met Aurelia's gaze. She braced herself for coldness, for hostility... and the elezen instead gave a noncommittal grunt. "Well then, put her on the table and let's get this done. Need to get the rest of her armor off--I'm guessing she can't walk since you lot were carrying her."

"Hip was out of socket," Edwin spoke up. "I'm fair certain at least one leg is broken if not both."

"Looks like it was reduced."

"Aye. Did it before we came back."

"You shouldn't have reduced her hip if- hells, that's a godsdamned third eye."

The woman had tilted her head back to check the superficial head injury she'd sustained, and her dirty fringe had shifted in a wet, matted clump to bare her brow. She had recoiled, and was now staring incredulously at Aurelia, obviously awaiting an explanation for some mad reason. Stymied as to exactly where this line of questioning was going, she could only nod.

"But... you're a woman," the chirurgeon said.

"I... Y-yes?"

"But you-"

There it was again. Aurelia sighed. 

"Why's everyone so bloody surprised I'm a woman?"

"Oh," Sparrow said. "Er..."

"We've, um." Edwin actually had the good grace to look embarrassed. "We heard your, ah, your people don't let their women take the field."

For a long moment, Aurelia just stared at them.

Well that's... certainly a theory.

There was some small nugget of truth to it, she supposed. Garlean women weren't often assigned to the foreign legions because of the risk that deployment to areas like Eorzea posed. For all its technological advancement, imperial society was still rather conservative, and women of her social status were largely expected to serve their compulsory four years before wedding a man of their family's choice to produce heirs for their bloodlines.

That said, highborn women like herself certainly did go through their paces to make a career of military service, and could rise quite high in rank at that. One of Aurelia's own cousins, a woman two years her senior, was one of Legatus van Gabranth's highest-ranked tribunes. 

So it was with some difficulty that she managed to keep a straight face when she replied,

"Dare I ask where you lot came by that notion?"

There was a long silence before Sparrow mumbled something that sounded like, "Privateers."

"Ah yes,” she said rather drily, “pirates. Truly, a most reliable source of speculation, and certainly not wont to embellish their tales in the telling."

The pair exchanged decidedly sheepish glances. 

Really, though, it was an absurd notion. She might have actually laughed did she not feel so terrible - and if she didn't think she was like to be punished for it. Had the Captain been present, Aurelia was certain she'd have got a hard shove in the back and told to keep her cheek to herself.

"Well," the chirurgeon said, rather briskly, "now we've got that sorted, perhaps you lot might clear out and let me do my godsdamned job. Go on."

"Léonie, the captain will want t-"

"Go, Sparrow, off with you! I can do this without your hovering. If she tries to strangle me with my own apron strings, you'll know about it. Now pull the curtain shut and give a lady some privacy."

Aurelia fidgeted nervously as the two dutifully filed out, one of Sparrow's meaty hands pulling the curtain taut in his wake. She kept thinking of the cold, miserable wounded sitting in their lines, waiting for help, exposed to the elements, watching as she was taken to the front of the line. Her own injuries were far from minor, but she'd seen at least a dozen people who in her own mind would have warranted attention first.

The healer, Léonie, rolled her eyes to the heavens.

"As I was telling him, he shouldn't have tried to reduce that hip of yours if he thought the leg was broken. Could've made it worse." 

“Don’t be too hard on him,” Aurelia said. “I asked him to do it.”

“That was foolish.”

“I know. But there was no way they could have carried me here otherwise.”

“Best you hope your hip isn’t cracked as well.” Deft, long-fingered hands reached for her legs. "Let's get these off, then."

"Please be careful-"

"Yes, yes, I've done this a time or two, girl. I know what I'm about." Aurelia relaxed somewhat when she realized the woman was unfastening the heavy buckles that held the greaves in place, rather than attempting to yank them off. "...Can't bloody believe they had a slip of a lass like you going about in heavy armor. You don't look built for it at all."

It was becoming difficult to maintain her composure. The pain had dulled to background noise as they'd traveled - never, she thought to herself, underestimate the body's ability to accustom itself to anything - but now that her full attention was focused on it once more her stomach twisted, the pain suddenly front and center and very very huge.

She saw why the moment the armor was slowly and carefully lifted away: exposed bone an ilm below the knee, cutting through flesh and carbonweave like a snapped stick.

"Compound fracture," she said aloud, between clenched teeth. "I had feared that."

"Pardon?"

"I was pinned beneath a magitek reaper -- hit by it when the moon.. when everything happened," she replied by way of explanation. "My injuries were - are - consistent with blunt force trauma. I was expecting a break, just hoping for something not quite this dire."

The elezen gave her a quizzical glance as she set the cermet plating aside, and turned towards a small metal bowl on a side table.

"Wouldn't expect a soldier to know aught of that sort of thing."

"As well you shouldn't, because I'm not a soldier," Aurelia said steadily, or as steadily as she could manage through the screaming fire that was now her entire left side from the waist down. "I'm in the business of saving lives, not taking them."

"...You're a healer?"

"A field medic, yes."

"I've never seen a chirurgeon in so much armor."

"Robes and leggings would be poor protection for me. I can't use magic so I do what needs doing with... potions. Infusions, and such." Gods, it hurt, it hurt, she could barely think through the throbbing that kept time with her racing heart. "Lost my godsdamned field kit in all of ... this, or I'd have already tried to see to my hurts, if not those poor bastards outside. But it's gone. Out in the Flats somewhere."

She had no way of knowing that for sure, of course. But undoubtedly all those potions, aught that could have done her or anyone else any good -- they were likely gone now, destroyed by the eikon's wrath. 

And for lack of proper medicine and proper care, many of the poor souls she'd seen on her way in were probably going to die before the first night had passed. The sheer frustration she felt in the face of that knowledge made her want to weep, or maybe that was just her broken leg.

"Hm. Well, you're right, this is going to require rather more work than just a splint. Lie back and relax. I'm going to fetch that conjurer who came in with you so he can put himself to use and let Sparrow know you'll be here a good while."

She swallowed, lying back against the unforgiving surface of the table and fighting not to vomit. The older woman placed a light hand on her brow, very briefly, like a mother calming a feverish child.

It was not until the unnatural heaviness had sunk into her limbs and dragged her eyelids shut, leaving them too heavy to open, that she was able to sense the chirurgeon's aether weighing her down: not the cold heaviness of iron chains but the soft touch of a warm blanket, silently urging her to shut her eyes and drift away.

She fought it at first, panicked, wondering what they meant to do to her-- and then a stray observation struck her:

Anesthesia. Of course. Anyone who could put a body to sleep would have little need for potions unless the spell was resisted.

The last of her apprehension began to fade. 

Whatever else the woman was, she was a healer, and her manner, though it spoke of overwork, had not been one of malice. At the very least, Aurelia thought, she could probably trust a fellow chirurgeon to do her work. Even if the conditions weren't ideal.

She gave in.

~*~

For his part, the Gridanian conjurer in question was currently concentrating on pouring aether into a small body lying prone in the muddy pathway. His patient's companion, a fresh-faced young Hyur wearing the tabard of an Immortal Flame, sat alongside, clutching at a bleeding forearm he barely seemed to notice and staring at the other lad with dark and worried eyes.

"Is... he going to be all right, healer?" the young soldier asked in a smoke-roughened voice, his skin deathly pale beneath a layer of dirt, water, and prominent freckles.

Just a boy, really, truth be told. Gods, Sparrow thought. So many of these so-called soldiers were naught more than children. The aging warrior reckoned there were even more who'd died well beyond the bounds of Carteneau, defending their settlements--farm boys who'd set aside their ploughs to take up whatever blade they could.

Edwin did not answer. He did not need words to give his answer when he sighed, at length, and let his hand fall to his side. The spark of aether at his fingertips dimmed and went out, and his hands returned to his sides.

What little color remained in the Hyur's face drained from it.

"No," he whispered. "No! Didihesu can't-"

"I'm sorry," the conjurer said. "Burns this deep and widespread are beyond my power to heal. Perhaps if he had been brought sooner-"

"You have to help him! Please!"

"I cannot!"

He cut off the torrent of pleas, something sharp and angry and hurting in his words, and the boy went quiet. There was a startled hush that rippled through the nearby patients, as his shout briefly drew their attention.

"Healers cannot work miracles," Edwin continued, his voice more measured, but rough and subdued. And exhausted. "Should I push myself beyond my current limits, I risk my own life as well."

Sparrow knew it was true, and they all knew it had been a long shot- the lalafellin lad's wounds had been grievous even before they had been aware of the extent of the burns Bahamut's fire had left behind- but he also knew what small comfort that would be. They both watched that young face crumple like old parchment, then break, then the inevitable flood of tears.

"...He didn't even want to enlist," the lad sobbed. "But then I-"

"It's not your fault, son," the roegadyn began, but he was cut off by another strangled sob.

"It is my fault! I talked him into leaving the village with me to join the Flames! I-I just wanted my best friend with me when...!"

Edwin watched all of this with an expression that might be mistaken for indifference did one not see the guilt lurking in his eyes. One of the Gridanian's hands was already extending towards the body, gently lifting hands that had cooled and stilled, placing them across poor dead Didihesu's chest, lifting the body to remove it from the mud and the sunken footsteps between the camp tents so that at least he would not be trampled by passerby.

Knowing this was only the beginning of the work they had to do-- just thinking about the countless bodies still left to unearth from all the wreckage here, all the destroyed settlements, made Sparrow's stomach turn itself in knots. But that seemed so trivial in comparison to the decision Edwin had just had to make, to let a boy die because it was either save him or save himself.

It was to this grim scene that Léonie thrust her head out of the tent flap.

"Conjurer," she said shortly. "You're needed."

At first, Edwin did not respond. He knelt a moment longer by the lalafell, wiping at his face, and Sparrow could not be certain if he was shedding tears or if he was simply wiping away mud and rainwater. Then he sighed, and with a grunt used his staff to regain his footing, leather boots splashing in the brown water, the hem of his robes soaked in more of the same.

"Are you going to be all right, then?" the roegadyn asked.

"I have to be all right. I've little choice." His head jerked with a snort tilt towards the straggling line of wounded huddled close and cold and hurting in the storm. "They're depending on it."

What a hard and heartbreaking thing, Sparrow thought to himself, watching that slouched and retreating back as it disappeared into the surgery, to be a healer. To bear such a burden, the responsibility of others' lives. To feel so personally the loss of each, as it shuffled off its mortal coil.

To be cruel simply to be kind.

Gently he placed his hand on the sobbing boy's back, mindful of his hurts, standing guard over that small cloudburst of grief. A small bit of comfort for the living left behind -- that was the least that could be offered, and the most many would get, he thought, in the coming days.

Overhead, the aether-driven storm -  heedless of the affairs of mortals or Calamities - continued apace.

[overwatchworks]

I thought the same thing at first, because initially I thought it takes away from the creativity of the game by forcing a certain comp on you, but at the same time, you’re guarunteed two tanks and two healers, which makes things so much easier. They’ve made it to where you are automatically given a solid comp instead of having, say, one good healer, a reluctant tank or second healer, and the rest of the team just wanting to play dps. Because in my comp games, I generally get three insta lock dps and a tank picked at the last second while I go to Mercy or Moira.

Now, I flex just about anything, generally having to play healer or tank because I wait to see what everyone else picks before deciding what I need to be, so that’s where I’m coming from with this.

So now the main question is, what do I pick for role queue? Because I think I can play just about all the healers well enough for comp, and I have three good tanks I’m solid with (D.Va, Zarya, and Winston with a maybe on Orisa), but I also really want to see what my rank is on Hanzo and McCree now that the MMR has basically reset. But also what’s my Zenyatta rank???? I just want to know if I can finally make it to diamond...T-T