#I just don’t have the mental and physical strength to jump on

[janeaudron]

Hate that on my off days I’m just too exhausted to do things I’d like to do.

[animeyanderelover]

Uhm this is my second request. Can I request a yandere satoru, suguru, sukuna, choso, toji and yuta x a female sorcerer eho is equal on their power strength. Thats all thank you.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive relationship, obsession, delusional mindset, clinginess, paranoia, manipulation

Tags: @lovley-valentine7

S/o is equally as strong as them

Ryomen Sukuna

🗾Ah yes, the babysitter. In some aspects Sukuna must say that you are doing a great job amusing him. Though it is obvious that you don’t share that pleasure. If you had the choice, you wouldn’t even be here right now as you have quit this profession a few years ago for reasons you have disclosed for everyone. It’s only due to a lot of pressure from the higher-ups and Gojo’s persistent nature that you reluctantly agree to assist in keeping an eye on Yuji and the curse sealed within him. Rumors swarm around everywhere, that you’re supposed to be on equal footing with Gojo and Sukuna, one of the strongest of today. Sukuna doesn’t believe that. Yes, he wants you to be strong so that he can enjoy the unavoidable fight to his fullest but he’s confident that at the end of the day he will still claim victory whilst standing over your bloody corpse. Still, he must admit that he enjoys the alive you quite a lot as well. It’s quite amusing to observe just how different you are to Gojo. Quiet, polite yet still bold enough to lecture him for his evil deeds. He finds it rather endearing, a malicious grin on his face as you talk to him as if you believe that he possesses a heart.

🗾It’s that pathetic display of empathy that has influenced his perception, a mistake during the Shibuya incident. As Gojo is sealed and Sukuna awakes, he challenges and kills Jogo and as Mahoraga attacks him, he feels truly alive. In that moment he forgets about you only for you to jump in and join the fight, trying to minimise the incomprehensible damage. During that fight Sukuna witnesses for the first time a different side to you, foolish kind you. An unwavering determination, a strength as deep and suffocating as the ocean. He’s taken as he watches you, fights against you and with you, even protects you against some of Mahoraga’s attacks. As euphoria and infatuated adrenaline pump through his veins, he finds himself wishing to continue this fight yet he knows that as of now he still isn’t strong enough. No, you deserve to be defeated as soon as he has achieved his strongest form once more. However, as he retreats into Yuji’s mind once more, taking in your bloody yet still standing form, he can’t help but have a change of heart. After all who would be more worthy of the strongest man than you, the strongest woman?

Fushiguro Toji

🪱The moment both you lock eyes in the little bar, you know that there is something about the other that’s different, powerful. Others might shudder in the face of such strength yet both of you are rather fascinated with the other. To Toji it truly doesn’t matter that you are a sorcerer and to you it doesn’t seem to matter that he kills even those who belong to your kind. He’s in for the money and you’re in because you’re bored, a constellation that works just fine for the both of you. Neither one of you meddles with the other’s business, neither one of you has serious feelings. At least until Toji breaks that agreement. The moment he becomes aware of his own possessiveness, he immediately seeks to stake his claim over you. Only that you despise having your freedom threatened like this. There’s no hesitation from either side as a fight breaks out as you have no serious attachment to Toji and he is at the stage where he only cares about possessing you and nothing more. Night and day eventually blur together as both of you lose track of time, clashing, attacking and hurting each other until both of you have reached for the first time in your lives your limit.

🪱Never before has Toji met someone who was able to keep up with him mentally as well as physically, only fueling his fixation on you. There’s no denying that he is fundamentally broken and unable to ever be fixed so you seem to be the best match as Toji needs someone who doesn’t falter nor break easily. A game of the greedy wolf and the sly cat starts from that day on as Toji actively hunts you down all whilst you skillfully escape him, tease him. For you this is a game, a sparking thrill that is just needed in your mundane life. For Toji it is initially too though he has the concrete goal to possess you by the end of it. As genuine feelings of infatuation strike his heart unexpectedly, he finds himself rethinking everything he thought to believe about the situation both him and you are in. He doesn’t desire just the simple thrill anymore. No, he desires something deeper, as ridiculous as that may sound coming from his lips. Now he just needs to convince you even though you are not the type to commit. However, Toji knows that you love playing with fire, are even willing to fuel it until you too get burned. Isn’t this exactly what you wanted? Something new and exciting?

Gojo Satoru

🩵When Gojo initially receives the news that a sorcerer from abroad is about to be transferred to Tokyo because it is believed that she is on his level, he doubts that statement. Not necessarily because he is overly arrogant but because from the very first breath he took, people were after his life all out of fear that he would grow up and master his abilities. Gojo has gone through a lot to achieve his powers, is confident in his position as the strongest sorcerer which is why he wonders just what kind of skills you must possess for others to even speculate that you might just be as powerful as he is. Yet when you arrive in his city, he doesn’t confront you about it. After all he knows that the higher-ups are hoping to figure out who between the two of you is more powerful and he won’t give them that pleasure. Instead he does everything to not even have you talk about any sorcerer-related stuff. No, he focuses on giving you a tour through the school, helps you with your train tickets and your bank account and is more than just eager to introduce you to his cuisine. Both of you spend a ton of time together and somehow both of you just connect immediately. Your experiences align.

🩵Gojo always used to be lonely. Perhaps that is just the way it is, standing at the top as the strongest. But now that has changed. Now you are also there, relating, struggling and supporting. You are able to share your insecurities with him and he is able to do the same. You appreciate Gojo for that and he appreciates you too. However, you underestimate just how severely attached Satoru grows to be. He grows insanely protective though not as much in a physical sense but in an emotional one. You’ve revealed your heart, so scarred and fragile from the weight of expectations and the sacrifices that were made for you to be who you are. There’s enough suffering you have gone through. No more now that he’s here. Relax instead, allow yourself to be protected by him instead of always neglecting your own wellbeing for the sake of others. His delusions get the better of him and that quickly. He’s made for you, you’re made for him. After all only the one labeled the strongest could understand the loss and loneliness that comes with such a title. And Satoru will do everything in his power to have you see this the same way as he does.

Geto Suguru

🗻Shunned, isolated, feared. Your past is the summary of why Suguru believes that non-sorcerers have to be murdered. After all it is unfair that someone as gifted and beautiful as you had to suffer so much only because you were special. Hearing about your tragic life, Geto immediately holds his hand out to you and offers you to join his plans. Only for you to reject that offer without a moment of hesitation. Not because you are tied to any duty but instead because you believe him of all people to commit acts of great injustice. Non-sorcerers do not deserve the fate he plans to bestow upon them. It is this mindset of yours that you possess despite the humiliation and pain you went through because of them that rattles Suguru’s mind more than anything. The idea that you, a woman with such shining talents and skills, see any worth in monkeys aggravates something deep within his heart. No words could express the disbelief and shock as you turn your back on him, spit on his kindness and discard him for the very people who treated you like a wild animal. He believes it to be a weakness in the beginning as he doesn’t let loose, convinced that you will be a great ally for his goal.

🗻Despite your firm decision to not join him, you still look after the two girls, treating them with kindness as you sympathise with their past. That only agitates Suguru more, the fact that you feel for them yet refuse to destroy the very root of their and your suffering. A walking, talking contradiction who only threatens to drive him mad. Something that indeed becomes true as dark feelings start to develop. Suguru refuses to accept that you truly are on the side of the monkeys and not on his side, the right side. It’s that denial that gives way for his excuses to bloom into delusions as he would accept anything but the blunt truth that you believe monkeys to be worth leaving alive. Instead he conjures up other explanations. A lack of love you felt as a child which has made you desperate for the monkey’s approval. Repressed trauma that holds you back from unleashing your full potential and your freedom. Brainwashing that you were put through as a child and that still has a hold on you today. Those excuses allow him to discredit your truth, allow him to believe that you are in need of his help. And he will give it to you even though you may not believe that you need it.

Kamo Choso

🩸Whenever Choso is within your vicinity, he is a mess. Rising body temperature, heart palpatations, sweaty palms and a flushed face. If he wouldn't know any better, he would believe himself to be sick. That, however, is impossible as he is a cursed womb. That and the fact that the sole trigger for those symptoms is always you. No, there has to be another explanation yet it takes Choso half an eternity until he has finally realised what he is feeling. Still, even though he now knows what he is feeling, he still doesn't know how to continue from here on out. It's only made so much worse because you are actually a senior of his younger brother who takes on the role of a mentor after so many other sorcerer lost their lives in Shibuya. You're skilled and confident, carry yourself with so much ease wherease Choso's brain short-circuits as soon as you talk to him. It is embarrassing that technically he is so much older than you yet has only recently experienced life due to being offered a vessel as a body. He should win you over, do something to show you how much he loves you yet he lacks the social etiquette to do so. There is only one way Choso knows how to show his care and that is by protecting his loved ones.

🩸���Yet you are breaking his heart as you make it apparent that you have no urgent need to rely on him as your protector. For Choso you are almost too independent, able to fight for yourself and protect yourself without his help. His entire existence is connected to the very concept of being the strong one who his loved ones can rely on but with you that purpose is mercilessly shattered and worst of all is that you are unaware of his inner turmoil and fear. Over and over again he witnesses how you risk your life by fighting against others which either ends with him jumping in to help you as his paranoia doesn't allow him to stay still or with him having an existential crisis when you manage to defeat them yourself, robbing him of his role. It feels wrong, so terribly wrong as all you want him to do is stay back and look after his own back. Almost as if trying to compensate for the lack of protection that Choso can do on the battlefield, he starts weasling his way into other aspects of your life and tries to help you there even if he has no idea what he is even supposed to do. Honestly, at times he is more of a hindrance than of help but don't tell him that. He's already inconsolable enough.

Okkotsu Yuta

💍​Yuta and you make acquaintance after disaster struck Shibuya and every person involved in that assault, non-sorcerers and sorcerers alike. When it is initially believed that Yuta is coming after Yuji you vow to protect your kohei from the student Gojo so confidently believed in. After all who else is there right now who could stop him and his curse Rika? You're unaware of Yuta's true intentions so the first meeting between the two of you quickly escalates into a fight all on your account. It certainly is a way to leave a first impression as Rika and Yuta clash with you who is able to fend them off. You're fully prepared for a long fight but Yuta luckily manages to gain your attention and signal his true intentions. Immediately he expresses admiration though for your loyalty, will to protect Yuji who is at heart innocent as well as for your impressive strength he was not aware of. It's surprising that he hasn't heard of you before. As soon as you know that Yuta is on your side, you partner up with him which makes for a very lethal combination as both of you are bright young talents with immense amounts of strength and skills. It's difficult though, with Gojo gone and Sukuna slowly returning.

💍​Perhaps that is why both of you bond much faster than under normal circumstances as both of you fight many battles together. You do not fear Rika like many others do and by extension you are less wary of Yuta himself and considering his past, that means quite a lot to him. Initially it seems to be a gradual change until there is this one sudden switch that happens in the heat of a battle where all of the weight of his premature obsession all of the sudden comes crashing down on him. Yuta panics, Rika senses it and a bloodbath follows that even manages to mortify you slightly. From that day on everything changes. Yuta is much more anxious to leave you alone on a battlefield, prefers to cling to you and block any attack that comes your way which serves as an insult to you. After all he should know best what you are capable of. Rika doesn't appreciate your tone yet you don't back down either, the atmosphere sometimes awfully hostile yet Yuta always manages to stop it. Deep down he is ashamed as he knows that you of all people he shouldn't doubt but all of that is irrelevant in the face of the earthquake that is his obsession, rattling his very rationality into shambles.

[elodieunderglass]

You put that info dump about jockeys in the tags of the info dump post, but oh my stars do I need you to write an actual post about it if you have the time! Or if you've already done that, point me in the direction of where I can find it, because dude, am I invested now!!!!

Oh I can go on about jockeys forever. Let’s do a crash (ha) course while dressing my jockey OC, Killie. Killie is an Irish-British racing jockey over the flat AND jumps, operating in the UK.

NOTE TW below the cut for injuries, weight talk and references to disordered eating, because, regrettably: professional horse jockeys. Infuriating people.

We start with Killie’s fairly battered and frankly very tiny body. At 4’10” Killie is comfortably at the bottom range of jockeys, who usually range from 4’10 to 5’7”. There’s no height limit; there is a weight limit. A naturally small man at about 118 lbs of fairly fit racing weight, Killie is in condition to race on the flat in the UK without too much starvation, dehydration, and substance abuse those are just his hobbies. Jockeys and their gear are weighed before and after each race. Weight limits for jockeys include their body, personal gear, riding gear and safety equipment.

Flat jockeys - who race horses on a plain circular track, like the Kentucky Derby - must be lighter and smaller than jump jockeys. In the USA, flat jockeys tend to be about 118 lbs, the weight of a potential Kentucky Derby competitor. In the UK, flat jockeys and their gear can now go up to 142 lbs, thanks to increased welfare standards; this includes the 3lb allowance for the body protector that UK jockeys must wear as of 2018, and, as of 2013, Flat jockeys in the UK can now have an additional 1 lb of allowance for warm clothing in winter.

Jump jockeys, who race in steeplechases (USA) like the Grand National (UK) aka races with jumps - are allowed to be slightly heavier, and often taller with it, as their sport requires even more strength and stamina.

Jockeys have to be able to maintain ~118 lbs of very fit, fighting-quality muscle, every day of the week. Thus, most jockeys are short, averaging 5’2” in a sport dominated by men, because that’s the cost of packing on enough muscle for the required strength/stamina. add in excellent horsemanship, high pain tolerance, lack of natural fear/truly bonkers physical courage, the ability to go for days without food and other pleasures of life, an ongoing commitment to fitness, excellent mental arithmetic/timekeeping skills, and the ability to tolerate abysmal working conditions, to understand why most short people aren’t immediately natural jockeys. Taller jockeys are becoming ever more common, as the conditions that shaped the historically legendary small jockeys (enslavement/slaver starvation, concentration camps/Nazi starvation, birth complication/premature birth, bad nutrition) are thankfully becoming far less common. This is in turn driving pushes towards higher weight limits, which can only be a good thing.

Why aren’t jockeys all little people? Because it isn’t just about being small - it’s more important to be light and strong. Jockeys generally don’t have medical conditions underpinning their size, and are not generally considered part of the little people community, although their size may overlap with little people. It’s important to repeat that the working conditions of jockeys are still bad; they're a loose collection of freelancers who very rarely become contractors, they don’t bargain collectively, have nominal professional associations, and have 500 years of absurdly feudal working conditions to battle. Little people who are motivated to handle horses could have a comparable time - and genuine union protection! and fans! and visibility! and benefits! and safety coordinators! and less substance abuse! And clothing! - by working as stunt actors. Jockeys just have a shitty job, so when we ask why marginalised people don’t dominate the field, we have to look at working conditions.

Why don’t more women (who tend to be a bit smaller statistically) go into racing? Some of it is historical sexism, but again, the working conditions. Female jockeys have raced throughout history, and are active today. Men and women compete equally in horse racing without any gender segregation or handicap (or even different clothing) and with no statistical difference in performance. Of course, male and female horses also compete alongside each other, for what it’s worth! equestrian sports are generally refreshingly free of TERF nonsense about Masculinity Being An Advantage (it isn’t, in human or horse.) but again, it isn’t a choice career for people with better options, so to improve diversity/inclusivity the working conditions should be addressed first, not the other way around.

Also note: horse racing is declining in popularity. With its preferred audiences traditionally being "stupidly posh aristocrats who wear alarming fascinators" and "conservative working-class old men who shout at TVs in sports bars," with a side order of "sketchy gambling-addicted weirdos," the sport doesn't really appeal to, for example, Tumblr users. Millennial-and-younger generations basically just ignore the whole industry. Most people can't name a single racing jockey; people could maybe name Secretariat, one of the most famous named animals in history, who had a film about him.

At any rate, Killie comes by his frame honestly - he is just generationally tiny and lanky, from a family of jockeys.

Killie starts his outfit in “jockey” briefs and a very lightweight high-neck top. Remember that the carry weight of his gear comes out of his weight allowance, which also includes his own body and riding equipment, so he’s wearing a lightweight mesh skivvy, even in cold weather.

The terminology of jockey briefs and the Jockey underwear brand come from horse racing. "Jockey" comes from the British/Scottish word "jock," for a young boy; jockey being a diminutive of this. The phrase "jock" as in "sportsman, opposite of nerd" in the USA comes from "jockstrap", which is apparently a completely separate underwear-related sporting etymology.

Men and women wear the same clothes, which are sold to everyone equally; there aren’t “girl versions” for racing gear, just heavy or lightweight gear. Women usually add a sports bra, and men have personal preferences for briefs to keep things contained. However, anecdotally, some women race in 'men’s' underwear - and some male jockeys wear 'women’s' underwear to keep gear weight down - so whatever. Pantyhose can be worn to prevent chafing, add a vague layer of warmth, fight the see-through effect of racing breeches, and are a compromise for socks, which would add unnecessary weight.

If there was a reason to leave off his base layer, Killie could cheat by wearing a neck wrap - basically a high collar with a bib that would make it LOOK like he was wearing something under his silks.

Today, in the UK and Australia, jockeys wear body protectors! These are fairly new to the sport and aren’t even remotely universal in the USA. Body protectors can shield the spine, lungs and heart from falls, kicks, and crush injuries.

Killie has also added his high-waisted racing breeches. These are basically-see-through polyester breeches of unbelievable thinness and lightness. Unlike normal riding breeches/jodhpurs, they don’t offer much at all in the way of comfort/grip/protection.

Pull-ups are a kind of tight compression tube that bridge the breeches/boots gap, preventing chafing and making sure that breeches taper into the boot.

Time for silks!

Silks, or racing colours, are colourful high-necked thin jackets that are buttoned over the body protector and tucked into the breeches. Silks represent the owner of the racehorse, for example the Queen of England or Godolphin Stables. Jockeys don’t own racehorses or own/choose silks.

Killie is a licensed jockey under contract to a stable - a highly desirable position. this means that he has HIS OWN PERSONAL SILKS, which actually fit him on purpose. He also knows the horses he rides. This is a very rare and comfortable post - the gold standard for champion jockeys, and what everyone in the profession is desperately hoping for.

Most everyday jobbing jockeys are paid £100 per ride, plus a cut of the purse if they win (but most jockeys in a race necessarily don’t win.) jobbing jockeys are chosen by racehorse owners like itinerant labourers or puppies from a box. Jockeys compete desperately to be offered the best mounts. The owners’ silks are kept in a changing room and when a jockey is chosen by an owner to ride a particular horse, they are handed the owner’s silks to put on over their base layer. These silks are unisex and one-size-fits-all, so jockeys tuck them into breeches to hide when they’re too large, and small jockeys use hair elastics to roll back and secure the sleeves.

People have a vague idea from heartwarming movies that the racehorse, owner, trainer and jockey are familiar with each other - perhaps they have a beautiful relationship. It’s important to remember the real pecking order here: the owner is usually a billionaire or royalty. The racehorse is usually a valuable, highly-bred animal with a proper dollar value on it, which the billionaire loves as an extension of their own wealth and power and beauty and influence. And the jockey is a sort of disposable starving dog that talks, which you graciously choose from the pack, based on their stats, like someone picking a Mario Kart, and assign to make your horsey win. Sometimes “just before the race” is the first time the jockey even touches the horse they’re about to ride! At any rate, the patterned jacket is chucked at the jockey to button on over their clothes(unless they’re Killie and have their own.) They also stretch a thin flexible matching cover over their helmet.

The design of the silks is ancient in intention; everyone can intuit that it’s resonant with medieval alliances and heraldry and tournaments, and the wearing of colours facilitates your ability pick out “your” mounted knight from a scrum of other screaming horses and bodies. Today they help commentators and the audience to see their horses. All silks must be unique, with colour/design/pattern being registered in databases. You can play with the British Horseracing Authority's silks database to see whether your design of silks would be available!

Killie is wearing his racing boots. They're flexible, made of very leather, with practically no sole, and weigh less than half a pound.

Killie wears racing gloves - these are optional, and often fingerless since jockeys like to feel the reins. He also has goggles. Jockeys usually take multiple pairs, perched on their helmet and pulled down in turn. You can have tinted ones for sun/rain, but they’re most important for keeping mud and stones out of your eyes at 40mph. They’re very lightweight, and when they become too dirty to see through, you pull them down to hang around your neck and then pull down the next pair over your eyes. here's jockey Gary Stevens after a muddy race with several pairs of goggles pulled down.

Killie's got his helmet, so now he's dressed. He needs to add his gear. Again, the jockey's body and their gear are part of the same weight allowance; a lighter jockey can have heavier gear. Here is UK jockey Hollie Doyle showing hers:

Interestingly, the weight of the saddle (plus stirrups, girth, and lead cloth) belongs in the jockey's weight allowance. (The racehorse brings its own bridle and saddlecloth.) Hollie is shown here with multiple saddles - for various riding conditions, weights, etc. Racing saddles only weigh about 1-2 pounds - contrasted with the 20lb of a normal English riding saddle - and are basically a strap that the stirrups hang from, since jockeys mostly stand up to ride.

This concludes "Getting Cillian Dressed, the Awkward Little Sod That He Is." Thank you so much for joining me and prompting this.

Appendix:

I depict Killie as a lightly bruised skeleton wrapped in a thin layer of mental problems, with the temperament of an unloved stray dog. This is not a nice state for a fellow to live in, so if I were to give him a happy ending, I would like Killie to age into a sort of healthy, roguish Franny Norton type (Franny, below, is the older jockey in white base layer. He raced for over 30 years and retired in 2024.) So if Killie were to be developed as a character, he would be poised for having some kind of fictional redemption arc that aligns with the overall improvement of working conditions for jockeys in 2025 and the potential redemption arc of his whole profession. it is possible, and increasingly less rare, for jockeys to be More Normal than Killie - as they very much should be!! the take-home message here should be that the profession has the potential to improve and may even do so. Emphasis on jockey and racehorse welfare would only help.

[gaywarcriminals]

Qijiu Findom is Canon

So we've all seen this scene, right?

This scene is a fundamental piece of YQY characterization to me. There's a lot to be said about how this ties into YQY's desire to protect, provide for, and spoil SJ, but today I am here to talk about how this man would be really into financial domination. I truly can't believe that only one such qijiu fic exists (thank you to kat8cha I owe you my life). 

The core tenants of my qijiu findom manifesto are as follows: 

YQY doesn’t like spending money on himself 

YQY belongs to SJ

YQY loves providing for SJ 

SJ would rather take than receive

(Most of this post is more headcanon than directly evidenced, but I think it’s a logical jump from canon!)

YQY doesn’t spend money on himself 

This was the starting point of my thinking when I started spinning qijiu findom in my brain back in 2022. Yue Qingyuan, in my opinion, doesn’t like taking care of himself. I think he’s better about taking care of his physical needs to some degree because he’s aware that the consequences of him passing out or qi deviating would affect more than just himself, but his motivation is a.) to be a well functioning machine capable of fulfilling his role as sect leader, and b.) to Not Fuck Up. (One of adult YQY’s core traits is that he lives in perpetual fear of fucking up. More on that another day). Aside from the risk of heart demons damaging his cultivation, YQY doesn’t see any possible consequences to neglecting his mental health. 

And so, does YQY really deserve a comfortable bed? Does he really need any nice wall hangings in the parts of his home that guests will never see? The only seemingly indulgent purchases YQY makes are those needed to uphold his image as sect leader, like fine clothes and hair oils. Those are functionally business expenses, because YQY is aware that how he presents himself reflects on the entire sect. (SJ surely doesn’t see it that way— he only sees YQY putting on the affects of nobles and spending money like water, as bad as any of the natal lords in this sect). In the modern era, YQY would come home, take off his perfectly tailored suit, and flop face first onto his bare mattress on the floor.

YQY’s everything belong to SJ

I think that if SJ had asked, YQY would be willing to give him basically anything he owned. Fundamentally, YQY puts SJ’s life before his own. He would not have walked into near-certain death long after SJ became irredeemable to the rest of the cultivation world if that was not the case. Yue Qingyuan literally offers SJ his life. 

YQY would die if he thought it would make SJ happy. If YQY’s life and the sword that is his life can be forfeited to SJ, what’s a bit of money, or the material possessions that YQY cares little for? What’s his is SJ’s, and if it would make SJ happy, YQY would not hesitate to hand over whatever SJ asked for. 

YQY likes taking care of people.

Although the fanon of YQY being overly solicitous and constantly pushing gifts on SJ contradicts canon (as far as I can tell, there's not a single instance in the novel of specfically Yue Qingyuan giving SQQ a gift-- at most, there's references to all the peak lords doing so), I think there’s a little truth to it— if YQY thought SJ would allow him to, he would absolutely give SJ whatever he thought the man might like or need. I would go as far as to say that he probably longs to do so. He is a service dog, after all.

Yue Qingyuan most often expresses his affection as protecting, taking care of, or expressing concern for others. Most of his 'wet puppy in the rain' moments in canon are not due to his own misery, but because he is concerned for SJ or SQQ. Yue Qingyuan is bad at existing for his own sake; he is constantly shown to be putting others and the sect above himself, and none more so than SJ. Personally. I don’t think this is just due to YQY’s strength of character. I think he gains a sense of purpose and identity from being the one to protect and take care of others. There is a reason I say YQY had eldest daughter syndrome: he needs someone to take care of For His Health.

Being allowed to give or buy things for SJ, or have SJ use YQY's assets to buy things himself, would fulfill YQY's needs. It would give him vital enrichment. After their long estrangement where SJ constantly ignores YQY, someone as simple as being able to express affection by providing for SJ would literally be a privilege to YQY. 

That's all well and good, but doesn't that just mean YQY's wants to be SJ's sugar daddy? Why do I specify findom instead? Well that's where we get to SJ.

SJ's issue with gifts & "unmotivated" kindness

SJ is a paranoid person, and many gifts come with some expectation of reciprocity. I think SJ’s ability to appreciate gifts would be hampered by his immediate unasked question: “what do you want from me?”. While gifts for Peak Lord Shen may pose less of an issue, as he’s able to quickly identify the motives from deference to bribery, gifts to Shen Jiu The Person may pose more of an issue, as the lack of a clear motive besides expressing affection leaves room for SJ’s mind to invent one. Honestly, SJ reacts similarly to most kindness— he himself is so rarely kind without a motive, so it’s hard for him to imagine that others might not be the same. (Any kindness Xiao Jiu showed his Qi-ge doesn’t count— SJ was only protecting what belonged to him 😤).

Because of this twisty brain maze he’s made for himself, SJ is far more comfortable taking something than receiving it. SJ learned as a child that he will be given nothing, and that taking things is necessary for survival, and he had no compunctions about it. Taking is an act of initiative and aggression: taking is winning. I actually think this is how he framed begging in his mind— by thinking of it as tricking people, he gets to feel like he’s won or stolen something, rather having to linger in the pity. 

Gifts, affection, and love can all be given this treatment. If SJ tricked YQY into loving him and must now cling to his rightfully earned possession, SJ needn’t address his own feelings. If YQY’s money is something SJ takes, he gets to feel like he’s taking advantage of YQY instead of having to feel like he’s reliant on YQY or like he's YQY's charity case.

SJ is a massive control freak, and he is always most comfortable in a relationship when he can tell himself he’s in control of the  dynamic, even if that makes the relationship appear unhealthy to an outside observer. Once YQY catches on to this, he would do absolutely everything he could to accommodate SJ (without SJ realizing he’s being accommodated ofc).

In short, YQY leaves his wallet on the nightstand, SJ takes or “steals” it and buys some overpriced designer good he doesn’t need, silently daring YQY to challenge him on it, and they both feel fulfilled by this. 

This is what peak performance looks like.

(Side note: there are a couple other ways to execute a findom for dynamic for qijiu! The main two I can think of are "Stupid Qi-ge’s money is so easy to steal: obviously I must steal it First, and use it Better, to Protect Him." and "Stupid Qi-ge is languishing/never takes care of himself. I must take his money and use it to force him to do self care." My tastes run angstier tho 😂)

[suskz]

no i.n. fics is crazy.. he's so pookie

well ill be the first then 😼 i.n. x reader where like, everyone in skz knows they like each other except them cause they're both stupid losers pining? make the fluff so sweet that I lose all my teeth from cavities (im mentally insane)

tyty love ya babes 💋

Just friends?

pairing: Jeongin x fem!Reader

w/c: 2,5k

t/w: fluff ; Jeongin is just a cute little baby bread ; friends can kiss ; innie is a sucker for physical touch (yours).

a/n: I’M BAAACK (I guess???) Y’ALL!! *awkward silence*. We all love soft clingy innie! I’m so, so sorry for the wait! Hope you enjoy!

It’s so sudden that both of you jump slightly in place. The door opens, and the voice is heard in the room —if not throughout the entire apartment— before the figure can even be seen: “Stop fucking!” It’s Changbin’s voice, loud and clear, “And do something useful, it’s your turn to go grocery shopping today.” His tone lowers, becoming normal.

You’re half-lying on the bed while Jeongin has his head resting on your chest and one leg thrown over yours, as you both scroll through your phones, occasionally showing each other funny videos you find.

Jeongin rolls his eyes at his words and groans, “Do we really have to?” He complains.

You, on the other hand, have flushed cheeks and try to discreetly hide your ears.

“Actually,” the older one begins, thinking, “Y/n doesn’t have to because she did it last week. You get up and go now; there’s nothing in the fridge.”

At his words, Jeongin’s hands tighten around your sweatshirt into fists, and his face snaps in your direction, “No, you’re coming with me, right?” He asks so quickly it seems desperate. And it’s phrased as a question, but you don’t really have a choice; he would take you with him anyway.

You smirk, “Aw, is baby afraid to go to the supermarket alone?” You pout at him playfully and take his face in your hands.

He pouts like a child, and you bite your lip to keep from smiling at his cuteness, but you fail, and your lips curve upward.

“Since you’re teasing me, I’ll go ask Hyunjin hyung to come with me.” He holds back from calling you a ‘jerk’, but just as he gets up, you pull him back down and place an arm over his body to stop him from leaving.

“Is baby upset now?” You hold back a laugh that would only annoy him more.

“Let me go.” He demands, even though he could easily leave on his own since you’re not really putting much strength into your hold.

“Chill, I’ll come with you.”

He doesn’t change his expression and doesn’t say anything in response. You place your hand on his head and ruffle his hair energetically, messing it up, and he starts squirming under your touch.

His eyes squeeze shut, his lips form a thin line, and his nose scrunches up.

“Get a room.” Changbin teases, and although his voice sounds disgusted, you can clearly sense the little smile on his lips.

You stop moving your hand, “We’re already in a room.” you state.

“Ah, right, I’ll just leave then.” he says just before closing the door and walking away quickly, his footsteps clearly audible to the both of you.

“I hate you.” Jeongin mutters as he fixes his hair.

“You love me.” You smile, turning your eyes back to your phone screen.

His eyes linger on you for a few seconds, his movements stopping. A sparkle passes through them, and a thought, ‘Yes, I do’, runs through his mind, but he quickly hides it, afraid that you might read it in his eyes —even though you’re not even looking at him.

He quickly settles back next to you on the bed, this time lying a bit farther from you, turned in the opposite direction from where you’re sitting. You give him a confused look, even though he can’t see you.

“I think I’ll take a nap, I’m tired.” he mutters with his eyes closed.

You don’t comment on the fact that he didn’t seem so tired a little while ago; instead, you move closer to him and place your face in front of his.

His eyes open, “What?” he asks, sounding more annoyed than he meant to.

You pucker your lips, “Aren’t you going to give me a kiss?” you ask.

“Always so demanding.” he rolls his eyes with a smirk, lifting his head slightly to give you a quick peck on the lips before resting his head back on the pillow and closing his eyes again.

You smile with satisfaction. You really find it sweet that the two of you share this kind of intimacy in friendship. You don’t even remember how it started; you just know that by now, it’s not strange to see the two of you share a quick kiss on various occasions, even in simple moments like this one.

After all, what’s a quick peck between friends?

You sit back up with him facing away from you.

And you watch him, maybe for a moment too long because he speaks, “I can see that you’re staring,” he states, “What are you daydreaming about?” he asks you with a mischievous grin.

You feel a sense of embarrassment, and your cheeks heat up. “I just want to touch your hair, it’s so soft.” you admit.

“Heh, I know. Do you like my new haircut?” he asks you with a curious smile, turning to look at you.

“Too much.” you reply, feeding off his happiness and pride.

Then, eventually, you gently thread your fingers through his soft hair, feeling him relax and lean into your touch.

You know perfectly well how much he loves having his hair stroked —even though he claims otherwise— and how much it helps him fall asleep.

You smile and decide to join him, lying down behind him and wrapping your arms around his body.

Jeongin feels his body grow warmer and his stomach flip, but he remains still and relaxes when one of your hands intertwines with his fingers, soon falling asleep in your arms.

—

“Oh, shit.” Jeongin mutters, watching the heavy rain outside from inside the supermarket.

“We don’t have an umbrella, do we?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

That’s why you find yourselves running through the heavy rain, trying to get home as quickly as possible.

You’re soaked from head to toe, and the sidewalk is so slippery that it was inevitable you’d fall.

Jeongin stops and quickly reaches you to help, “Aish, you’re so clumsy!” He bends down to give you a hand, first moving his hair out of his face.

“I’m slowing you down,” you lift your head and extend an arm towards him in a gesture of surrender, “You go on ahead, soldier; I’ll carry on when I have the strength,” you declare dramatically, “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.”

His stunned expression makes you burst into the laughter you were holding back. He watches the way your face crinkles and hears your voice rise so loudly that it’s clearly audible over the sound of the rain, which has become just background noise.

And it’s as if a ray of sunshine has settled right above you, just the two of you, with your clear voice managing to brighten even the worst moments.

Your laughter causes him to laugh as well, and he collapses onto the ground in front of you, ending up on his knees.

And it’s so sudden that for a moment it frightened you, that warmth you felt in your chest upon hearing his vibrant voice and seeing his almost carefree, smiling expression.

“Come on, get up now, we can’t stay here.” He says gently, helping you to your feet.

You sigh in frustration, “I can’t, my shoes are hurting my feet.” You admit, letting a small plea show in your voice, hoping he might help you, giving him puppy eyes.

And so, for the rest of the way home, he runs and you ride on his back.

He was actually about to leave you there and continue on his own, but in the end, he took pity on you after your persistent pleading.

“You’re so exhausting!” He complains when you both cross the apartment door.

You giggle, sniffling, and thank him. “I owe you a favor.”

“You say that every time.” He gives you a look, “I’m going to take a shower, don’t bother me until I’m done.”

Seungmin appears just as Jeongin is leaving, “Woah.” He turns to you, “Did you walk in the rain?”

“We ran in the rain.” You correct him, emphasizing the word ‘ran’.

“I ran in the rain.” Jeongin states before turning the corner and heading into the bathroom.

At the thought of what happened only a little while ago, you feel your cheeks strangely warm up and a sense of embarrassment spread inside you. A peculiar embarrassment, especially for something like this.

Seungmin looks at you, and something flashes in his eyes, something you haven’t seen and wouldn’t have known how to interpret, “Do you like Jeongin?” he asks suddenly, so directly.

You should deny it, you know you should, but something inside you clicks with his words; hundreds of thoughts surrounded by a cloud of doubts.

You remain silent, perhaps for a second too long, and your answer seems to confuse you even more than you already are, “I don’t know.”

—

When Jeongin is sick, he’s always so dramatic. He always claims he’s dying from a headache, feeling faint, and lacking the strength to get out of bed.

All this for just a simple cold.

This time, you think back to all those times he’s said similar things, and you consider that he might not be entirely wrong. Maybe it’s the intense sensations he experiences that are making him seem delirious.

Why else would he wrap his arms around you, holding you from behind in such an intimate and affectionate way in front of others, if not unconsciously?

Anyone could walk into the kitchen and see you. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but Jeongin always claims he has a certain reputation to maintain and apparently, because of that, he can’t be too cuddly with you —though you don’t understand how that makes sense, you don’t complain about it. And Minho is even in the kitchen right now, but your sweet Jeongin doesn’t seem to care, as he rests his head on your shoulder.

“Jeongin? Shouldn’t you be in bed now?” you ask, pausing for a second from stirring the hot broth in the pot on the stove, then resuming.

“I want you to stay in bed with me.” he admits.

“You don’t need me, to rest.” you assert, secretly melting at his touch and snuggling into his embrace with heated cheeks.

“And what if I told you that I do?”

Your heart skips a beat, and if he notices you stiffen in his arms, he doesn’t say anything.

“Go on, pretend I’m not here.” Minho comments sarcastically, but he’s ignored by both of you.

Jeongin whines, “Oh, come on! Come to bed with me! What’s the harm?” He whimpers like a child.

“I’m cooking you something to make you feel better; I can’t just leave it here.” You explain to him.

“Can’t Minho hyung take care of it?” He rests his chin on your shoulder, watching the inviting warm broth, speaking of the older one as if he weren’t there with you.

“I’m still here.” Minho chimes in for the second time, perhaps a bit annoyed by his behavior, and you turn in his direction, giving him an apologetic smile on behalf of the younger one.

“Minho is teaching me the recipe. I want to cook it myself, and you’ll tell me what you think.” You place one of your hands on his, an affectionate gesture, though slightly hesitant, and he seems to lean more into you, relaxing even more.

“I want to rest my head on your chest, the sound of your heartbeat relaxes me.” He admits, ending the sentence in a whisper, and moves one of his hands to your chest, over your heart, “Oh, it’s beating a bit fast right now, are you alright?” He asks in a clearly concerned voice, turning to look at your face, but you turn your head away so he won’t see your obvious blush.

“Yes! I-I’m fine.” you stutter, shrinking away and squirming in his hold while he tries in every way to get a look at your face.

You hate how insistent he can be at times like this.

“Alright, lovebirds, at least try not to kiss in front of me; have some mercy on my eyes.” Minho rolls his eyes but can’t hide the grin forming on his lips.

“We’ve already done it.” Jeongin reminds him, and you ponder on whether you should feel embarrassed or just treat it as the normal thing it is —at least for the two of you.

Jeongin thinks you need a reminder, so he cups your chin in his hand, gently placing his fingers on your cheeks, and presses his lips to yours. It’s such a quick, chaste, simple gesture; so usual, yet you feel quivers in your stomach, a gentle flutter that whispers things you don’t feel ready to admit to yourself, voices you’re afraid to listen to.

When he pulls away, he has a proud grin on his lips, and you feel a strong urge to hit him in the face. But with your lips. Gently. Because you want more this time; more of him, his soft pink lips, the warmth his body gives you, that silly but beautiful face.

Shit.

“Wipe that dumb smile off your face.” you say playfully, pulling away and returning to that damn broth.

“But you love this dumb face, admit it.”

‘Yes, I do’ is what you want to say, but it’s maybe because of what you felt a moment ago that you avoid letting those words leave your lips. “You’d better go back to your room before you start feeling worse.” You warn him.

“Come to think of it, I’m feeling dizzy.” Jeongin says, cursing under his breath. He follows your advice and heads back to his room, but not before throwing you one last look, saving that cute, rare moment of concentration —now focused on the broth— in his mind, with a bittersweet smile on his lips.

“Go to him,” you look up at Minho, who had already been watching you. A little smile forms on his lips, “I saw how you look at each other, and I’m never wrong,” he explains, “Now come on, go to him.” Minho gently but insistently pushes you out of the kitchen.

It was too indirect for you to be entirely convinced by what he said, but you hope it’s what you think. You don’t know when this started, why it happened, or if what you feel is real.

But every doubt seems to disappear from your mind when those words leave his glossy lips in the darkness of his room, his chest firmly pressed against your back, his warm breath on your neck, his arms wrapped around your body in a hold that whispers a fear of losing you.

And you don’t know if they are truly meant or if they came out in a moment of confusion and he actually meant something with a lesser meaning.

But what you know is that you feel exactly what was softly whispered into your ear —words said with a barely audible voice that you felt as a scream.

“I’m in love with you.”

[mjolnirswriststrap]

Just Another Notch

Masterlist Part 2/?? Part 3

Bucky Barnes x Plus Size F!Reader

Summary: If Bucky thinks his charms will work on you, then you’re gonna put up one hell of a fight to prove him wrong.

Word Count: 1,711

Warnings: None, but will contain explicit content 18+, in future chapters, read at your own discretion.

Your alarm didn’t wake you, it was a loud knocking at your door. You jump up, tapping your phone screen to see that it was only 6am. Now you’re gonna be groggy all morning, your alarm was set for 6:45. You trudge to your door, ready to rip down whoever it was that woke you up. When you open the door you see Bucky with bright eyes, two coffees in hand. You quickly read the label and see that it’s your favorite cafe in Brooklyn. How did he get coffee from there this early?

“Good morning.” He chirps out, reaching one of the paper cups forward. You cross your arms in front of you, refusing the coffee. “How can I help you?” You say curtly. You take in his attire, he was ready for training. You could almost laugh, him and Steve take their sponsorships too seriously, can’t be seen exercising in anything other than Under Armor.

“I still felt bad about last night and thought, maybe I could repay you by helping you get a head start today.” The smirk on his lips did nothing to ease your agitated mood. “I said we’re even, it’s fine.” You say, wondering if he was being genuine. It was far too early for all of this. You rub your sleep filled eyes, pushing your hair behind your ears. “Anything else?” You say, wanting to get some more sleep before the day of literal hell you were about to endure. Physically, you were the apex, but mentally and strategically, not so much.

You couldn’t wield a gun, you’d been studying a makeshift dictionary of all the military terms Steve and Bucky say during missions. You couldn’t take directions. Besides overpowering the strongest guy in Kansas during a championship, you’d never learned how to combat fight. You have no clue where to hit someone or how hard so you don’t do fatal damage. You were written up on your first mission.

Your adrenaline was pumping and you thought the gunman was bigger than what he was, causing you to dent his chest in, instantly killing him. The punch was meant to lay him out, not kill him. You’d been reminded time and time again during initial training that the goal was to subdue, shield rehabilitates these criminals.

So now training was mainly a mental game for you. Sizing people up, you were no use against magicians or witches but physically, you worked hard to discern people’s capabilities. You’d never trained with Bucky or Steve before. You’d never fought against a super soldier, you couldn’t even imagine their strength. Therefore, you’d never opted to train with them.

“No, I’m sorry for waking you.” He says, his eyes tell a completely different story. But you hear some sincerity in his voice. Maybe you were being too harsh to him. He really hadn’t done anything wrong, yet. You were the one who assumed he was drunk, you were the one who enjoyed him innocently helping you clean his mess. If you put aside all your wild ideas, Bucky had actually been very nice to you.

While no one had made any progress in talking to you or really even introducing themselves, Bucky was willing to sit with you and enjoy a bowl of cereal, alone. No other outside force willing him to be there. He’d apologized after spilling milk on you, helped clean it. He wasn’t even looking, and you were speed walking behind him, what if it truly was just an accident. Here you were being rude to the only person who’s shown you kindness.

You wanted to hit yourself. Mentally you were painting your back porch red. Guilt was slowly filling you as you watch him drop his head, nodding as if he’s finally realizing the situation, you wanted him to leave. But not anymore, “Let me get dressed, 5 minutes!” You wait for him to look up at you before you close the door in his face, you could see his smile return, but this time it looked triumphant and genuine.

You want to play this game with him, you knew that much. So why not make a big move and wear your new sports bra set with matching spandex shorts. You’d never worn just a sports bra, and always wore leggings. Your best friend convinced you that you looked good in it, so Nike gladly took your money. This would surely prove your suspicion, were his intentions innocent?

You looked in the mirror, pushing and pulling at your breast in the tight spandex. Your cleavage had to be perfect for this to work. You rolled down the waistband of the shorts, letting it show off your curves. You run to the bathroom to do your morning routine. Walking out of your door in less than the 5 minutes you estimated. You had no idea why you had such a pep in your step. As if you were rushing back to him.

“Thanks.” You say taking the coffee from his hands. He stands there frozen as you turn for the elevator, he watches your ponytail sway across your shoulders, then he lets his eyes travel down, to see your back dimples on display. This one he would fight for, his improvised plan didn’t work last night, he’ll admit his ego was hurt a little by his advances not working. So he gave you another chance with coffee this morning.

It almost didn’t work, he was showing real sadness when you rejected him again, but out of self pity, not because you were being rude. But it worked, and you folded. Judging by the way you’re dressed, he knew you were playing along with him. He would win in the end, he always does. Besides, you’d be an adversary opponent and the best prize.

You wish you could’ve told him black coffee wasn’t really your style, but you had too much pride, sipping it empty on the way down to the training floor. Bucky would probably go left to the gym, and you’ll go right, to the simulation room. It was handy for someone like you. Training with real people was a liability, so holograms it was. “See you later.” You nod to him.

“Where you going? I thought we were training together.” He sounds disappointed. “Oh you meant like the two of us? I thought it was a wake up call, not an invite.” You scratch the back of your neck, kind of embarrassed. “I figured you could use the change of scenery.” He laughs.

You follow him into the gym, a place you’d only been once, during the orientation tour. It was huge, needing the capacity to handle super hero’s being thrown around. Bucky walks over to a bench, setting down his coffee cup and shedding his windbreaker jacket. You toss your empty cup in the trash can beside the door, slowly walking up to him. “So what did you have in mind?” You ask, nervous as to what exactly you had gotten yourself into.

“First some basic warm up drills, then I figured I could help you with that strength depth perception.” He grabs two jump ropes from the wall and tosses one your way. “Fury was worried about you at the last meeting.” You roll your eyes, of course he was.

“I didn’t know you discussed me at meetings.” You say, starting to jump rope. He joins you a second later, going miles faster than you. “We discuss everything, especially things that could be a liability.”. He wasn’t wrong, it rubbed you wrong that you couldn’t defend yourself at these meetings. But you understood why they did it, you killed a man.

“Right.” You huff out, stopping and dropping the jump rope, you had no endurance. Bucky continues for another minute, the rope turning into a blur as it whizzed around him. You ran the track around the perimeter of the gym, till you legs felt like jelly. Again, Bucky kept going, literally running laps around you.

When he came to a jog in place in front of you, you took in the fact that no sweat had formed on his brow, meanwhile you left a puddle in the floor when you stood up. “Okay, let’s start with defense.” He brings his fist to face level and you match his stance. “We both know you have offense covered. But what about protecting yourself. Other people are strong too.” He made a good point.

You had beginners luck, dodging the first punch Bucky threw at your stomach. The second, not so much. You suck in a breath when his metal fist makes contact with your rib. “You’re supposed to block!” He sounds upset, like he was the one who just got hurt. “Yeah I got that.” You wheeze out, dropping to your knees, clutching your stomach.

Just as you’ve almost composed yourself the door to the gym swings open. “Are you ready for complete destruction, son?” It’s Steve walking in, but his face immediately drops when he sees you. “Excuse me.” He’s obviously embarrassed. You just look at Bucky and try to hold in a laugh. “Seriously?” You whisper, his cheeks are red but he nods.

“I’ll take that as my cue.” You say, waddling over to the vending machine in the corner. The blue on the Aquafina label reflected in your eye. You’re gonna die if you don’t get a drink. You tap your Apple Watch to the card reader, typing in A5, as you watch your water bottle be mechanically maneuvered around through a glass window you hear whispering. “She needs a snack already?”

You don’t know who said it, just that someone did, you didn’t turn around. Preferring to pretend it didn’t happen, you grab the water from the machine, drinking the whole thing in a couple chugs. You smash it between your hands, completely flattening it to the width of paper. It was loud, the cracking of the plastic, it silenced their hushed words. As you toss it into the trash can beside the door, you turn around and address both men.

“Thirst and hunger are two different things, wouldn’t you say?” And you leave, pushing past Natasha in the hallway as you make your way to the simulation room.

Taglist: @cjand10 @winterslove1917 @honestlywork @calwitch

[laursdomain]

Omg of course! Anything you write I’d be so happy to read!! :) yesss you really are giving him the character arc he deserves!! I’m sure anything you write will be absolutely amazing! Some ideas I had were a Xaden’s little sister OC, who would not be like Xaden at all, someone softer (imagine an overprotective older brother Xaden LOL). Or maybe a childhood friend of Dain’s who is not Violet? I feel like Dain would be good opposite someone he can take care of, since that’s all the poor guy had been wanting to do for violet LOL

let me take care of you

pairing: Dain Aetos x OC

OC: vera riorson

genre: fluff

warnings: mentions of blood, injuries, stitches; Dain is actually a really good guy; takes place in first part of iron flame

w/c: 1.6k

ྀིdain aetos masterlist

Fuck RSC.

It should be illegal to have the ability to physically and mentally torture students. Vera Riorson believed a lot of cadets would agree with her, despite being a marked one. It didn’t help that she was instantly singled out by Varrish, considering aside from Eya, she’s the only other marked one in her squad. Eya already finished RSC. It also didn’t help that she’s always been seen as the “black sheep” of her squad because she wasn’t as strong as the others, but her speed made up for it. 

Quite literally everyone expected her to be just like her brother, Xaden Riorson. To be insanely strong, top of her year, menacing, and absolutely cruel. Unfortunately, she didn’t live up to the standards, but she and Xaden preferred it that way. He preferred being able to protect his younger sister, and dreaded when it was her turn to cross the parapet. Alas, she also got their father’s determination, and made it through her first year with no issues. 

Now, she has to hold her own now that Xaden and Garrick have graduated. She could go to Eya, or Imogen, or even her own cousin, but she knew they’d report back to Xaden. No, she didn’t want to cause him any concern considering he is miles away, closer to the borders. 

While the rest of her squad headed to the infirmary to get mended from the minor injuries Varrish caused, Vera snuck away. Don’t let Nolon mend you, Bodhi’s words echoed in her mind from first year, when she had received her first major injury during sparring. Rather than going to Nolon, Bodhi wrapped her injuries himself in the solace of his room. Thank the gods he was her squad leader last year. 

As much as she loved her cousin, he was a tattletale. Somehow, the news of her injuries from RSC would get back to Xaden, and she couldn’t risk that. Vera knew the way back to her dormitory like the back of her hand, the pain throbbing in her stomach didn’t waver her determination to get back. The sooner I’m there, the sooner I can rest. 

“What in Amari’s name happened to you?” A deep voice came behind her, startling Vera. She jumped back, wincing from the pain. 

She glances up, meeting the brown eyes of her wingleader, Dain Aetos. She barely had the strength to muster the courage to scowl at him, so she settled against it. It’s not that she hated Dain Aetos, in fact she liked him. But she was a Riorson, and his father hated marked ones. 

“RSC interrogations,” Vera grits out, gripping her bloody abdomen. The blood had seeped through her makeshift bandages, the loss of blood was making her lightheaded. She needed to get to her room. 

“Let me take care of you,” she hears him speak over the thundering in her ears. She doesn’t fully register the weight of his words, but she finds herself nodding in agreement.

Dain moves forward, hesitantly reaching his arms out. He waits to see if Vera will flinch or run away, and when she doesn’t, he scoops her up in his arms. He half expects her to yell at him or fight her way out of his grasp, but she doesn’t. Instead, she welcomes his help, allowing her body to rest in his arms. Vera wasn’t proud of it, but it was the weekend. Nobody was walking around campus except for first years, and they knew better than to say anything. Dain silently carries her to his room in the wingleader’s quarters, sitting her on his desk chair. He leaves Vera, disappearing into the connected bathroom. 

Vera looks around the room, mindlessly taking in her surroundings. Dain had cream curtains up, in an attempt to bring some light into the already dark room. His comforter was black–no surprise there, but he had a cream-colored blanket resting on the end of his bed, the same color as the scribes' robes. Glancing behind her, she takes in the different textbooks and pieces of parchment Dain has neatly piled on the desk, presumably for his third-year classes he takes. His bookshelf had many different tomes littering it, though she didn’t recognize any of the titles. 

Soon, Dain returns, with a white box in his hands. He kneels in front of her, opening the box to reveal different first aid supplies. Bandages, alcohol, wipes, stitches–it had it all. 

“Can you tell me where you’re injured?” Dain questions, and his tone is surprisingly soft. It was a weird contrast to his wingleader voice. Vera can’t help but get flustered from it, but she shoves the feelings down. 

“My stomach,” Vera whispers, willingly removing her arms that had wrapped around her body in a weak attempt to stop the bleeding. 

“Can I lift your shirt?” Dain requests permission, hands hesitating to reach for her shirt.

“Yes,” she whispers, shrugging off her jacket. 

Dain lifts her blood-soaked shirt, folding it to rest atop her chest, still covering anything important. He takes an antiseptic wipe, cleaning around her wound so he can see it clearly. He uses one, two, three wipes to clean her stomach, throwing the bloodied wipes in the trashcan next to his desk. 

He takes a minute to examine her wound, determining how deep it is and if he’ll need to stitch it up himself. Once he determines that he’ll need to stitch her up, he takes another antiseptic wipe, cleaning the actual wound. Vera winces in pain, a yelp involuntarily leaving her body. Her hands fly out, finding purchase on Dain’s shoulders. He doesn’t protest as she grips his shoulders, an attempt to ground herself against the pain of the antiseptic cleaning her open wound. Dain throws the used wipe away, finally done cleaning it. Vera lets out a shaky breath she didn’t realize she was holding, her head lowering in defeat.

“I’m going to have to stitch you, are you sure you don’t want to go to Nolon?” Dain questions, resting his hands on her thighs. Surprisingly, he didn’t question her reasoning on why she didn’t want to go to him, but she didn’t dwell on it too much. 

“I’m not going to Nolon,” Vera looks into Dain’s chocolate eyes, allowing them to distract her.

“Okay,” he reaches for the thread and needle, sanitizing the needle before gesturing for her to lean back. 

Vera takes a deep breath as the needle goes through her skin, squeezing her eyes shut against the pain. One hand latches onto the bottom of her seat, her knuckles turning white. Her other hand instinctively wraps around Dain’s forearm, most likely leaving a bruise with how hard she’s gripping him. 

It takes a couple of minutes and many deep breaths until Dain finally finishes, tying the stitches to make sure they don’t unravel. He uses his free arm to grab the roll of bandages, letting Vera keep hold of his other arm. He manages to easily wrap a tight bandage around her stomach, protecting the stitches from anything. 

“Do you have any other injuries?” 

Vera shakes her head, still trying to calm her breathing from the pain she has endured in the past couple of hours. “Just bruises, I think.” 

Dain doesn’t say anything. He stares at the girl, and she can feel it. She becomes quickly aware at how close the two are, where she is, and the fact that she’s still holding onto him. Despite this, she doesn’t let go. Vera must’ve lost a lot of fucking blood if she’s holding onto Dain Aetos, someone who is supposed to be her enemy.

He forces her to let go, quickly walking over to his armoire, digging through the wardrobe until he finds what he’s looking for. He comes back with a Dain-sized black shirt, offering it to Vera. Almost like a peace offering. Vera takes it, realizing how ruined her own shirt is from her blood. Dain turns around, giving her privacy as she peels off the shirt, tossing it into the trash with the other bloodied wipes. 

She tugs Dain’s shirt over her body, relishing in how warm and comfortable it felt. It smelled distinctly like Dain, a mix of wood, leather, and something else Vera couldn’t put a name on other than the fact that it smelled like him. Vera becomes aware that she shouldn’t be sitting here, in his bedroom now that she’s bandaged up. She knows that she shouldn’t have accepted his shirt. She knows that her cousin and brother will have colorful things to say if they were to find out, but at this moment, she doesn't care. She definitely lost a lot of blood.

She doesn’t protest when he gently picks her up, the same way he did before, bringing her over to his bed. He lays her on the bed, taking the cream blanket and placing it over her. He goes to turn, before Vera’s hand flies out, gripping his forearm. 

“Don’t leave,” she whispers, and he notices something in her eyes. Vulnerability. 

“I won’t,” he promises. 

And he stays true to his word. He silently removes his boots and flight jacket, laying down on the bed with her. He allows her to slot herself under his arm, wrapping an arm around his abdomen and hooking one of her legs around his. She sighs out in relief when his other arm rests against the leg that wrapped around his, while the arm around her waist sneaks under his her shirt, rubbing circles on her bandage clad stomach. 

Vera finds herself struggling to stay awake under the weight of his arms, his smell, his mere presence, and the comfort of his fingers rubbing circles. Oddly enough, for once, she feels safe right where she is, and she doesn’t ever want to leave. It feels right, laying with Dain.

“Dain,” Vera whispers, her voice sleepy.

“Hm?” He mumbles, titling his head towards her. 

“You’ll be here when I wake up?” She questions, slightly nuzzling her cheek into his chest.

“Of course, angel.” He whispers back.  

She smiles contentedly, chasing after sleep as it drags her away from Dain. She hears him hum a lullaby to her, but she’s deep in sleep once he places a loving kiss on her head.

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman - Part 4

Ona Batlle x Lucy Bronze

Alternate Universe : Military School

Words : 6k

Masterlist

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Monday, October 12; 9:20 AM - In Class

Exactly one week ago, I left Barcelona to join this school. I am slowly getting used to this new environment, even though it's not easy every day. Right now, I'm in my second hour of class, chatting quietly with Alexia. She is no longer as uptight and serious as she was at the beginning. We laugh and talk a lot. It's become a bad habit since we tend to lose focus on the lessons and get scolded by our teachers. Our laughter mingles with the sound of footsteps echoing in the hallway. The thick walls pick up every sound when the door is open. No one pays attention until there's a knock at the door. Silence reigns, except for my laughter, which I can't suppress. This earns me a stern look from my teacher, who walks towards the door to invite the unknown visitor in. He wouldn't have needed to bother when I see that it is my furious supervisor. Everyone shrinks back as she visually scans the room until she locks eyes with me. Her eyes narrow and turn black with anger. Alexia has to nudge me to stop my hysterical laughter.

“Sorry for the interruption, Mr. Smith,” she begins without averting her eyes. “I just need to take a student who won’t be returning for the rest of the day. Could you inform your colleagues?”

“Oh, uh... Yes, of course, Miss Bronze.”

Even my teacher is intimidated by her. Pathetic. I understand better why my reputation has skyrocketed in just one week. Most people already know me as the brave student who dares to stand up to the commander. I am tired of this charade. I look to my neighbor for support, but she seems paralyzed by what’s happening. She recoils when Bronze slams her flat hands on my desk, making me jump. Our faces are just inches apart when I turn my head towards her.

“Hey!” I exclaim indignantly. “Be careful with the school property, come on!”

“Shut up, Ona. Just shut up if you don’t want to make me even angrier,” she threatens. “Pack your things. Now!”

She’s really fired up today! I’ve never seen her this angry or heard her use such a disdainful tone. I smile as I gather my things. I must not have been quick enough for her because she grabs my bag from the floor and starts packing my notebook herself while I collect my pens in my pencil case. I barely have time to close it before she snatches it from my hands and throws it into the bag. She shoves it against my chest so hard that my chair slides back from the impact.

“I hope you're ready because I won't spare you today. Move it, let's go.”

I barely have time to put on my camo jacket and sling my bag over my shoulder before she pushes me down the aisle to lead the way. I don’t resist and, more importantly, I don’t talk back. I barely dare to when she’s calm, so doing it now would be like challenging the devil himself. I’ve spent enough time with her last week to know her coldness and strength. I clearly don’t measure up, mentally or physically. I wait in the hallway while she apologizes for the disruption to my teacher. When she rejoins me, I instinctively lower my head to avoid her eyes. I might have pulled off the best trick of my life, but facing her imposing presence, I already dread what’s coming next.

“I don’t know how you managed to do what you did, but you’re in deep trouble!” she scolds.

The thought of denying it crosses my mind, but it wouldn’t help. My silence prompts her to pull my arm to move forward. She still holds me the same way, but this is the first time she’s hurt me this much. She’s really furious. I struggle to keep up with her pace. I say nothing, fearing she might speed up if I complain... But then, damn it, I shouldn’t just take it!

“It’s not like I didn’t warn you that I’d get revenge.”

She stops abruptly, making me instinctively step back after bumping into her. I regret my words the second her icy green eyes pierce through me. I swallow hard.

“You’re really just a poor idiot!” she spits. “You don’t understand anything! You want to play the one who’ll face the worst revenge? Fine, let’s play then! Now I don’t want to hear a word from you until I say so!”

My eyes widen in surprise. I already regret my unnecessary provocation. We reach the first floor of the instructors' dorms. She releases her painful grip only when we arrive at room 7. She roughly pushes me into the room I’ve recently become familiar with. I barely avoid falling headfirst due to her strength. It seems I deserve it now that I see the state of her place. Her room has the same furniture as mine. The only difference is the layout. She has a double bed – which looks more comfortable than my single bed – and her wardrobe stands next to the window. As for the desk, it’s on the opposite side.

“You’re going to tidy up this mess!” she exclaims. “I want everything back in its place! Not a single thing out of order, understood?”

“Don’t you like your new room? I think it’s pretty nice.”

“Don’t push me, Batlle. You don’t even realize what a slippery slope you’re on.”

Oh, I realize it, but it’s worth it. It’s all her fault. I warned her I would get revenge for what she made me endure.

“You shouldn’t have taken my phone and computer!” I retorted.

“And you shouldn’t have disrespected your superiors!” she raises her voice. “Clean up this mess!”

She drags the desk chair to the entrance and sits down. I watch her for a moment, quickly understanding that she will stay here until I finish. I sigh as I assess the extent of the damage. Her anger is justified, but so is mine. I rummaged through her stuff as much as she did through mine to find my hidden electronics. I am proud of my revenge idea.

Our relationship has deteriorated since the shower incident. She hasn't stopped punishing me for the slightest infraction. The first was for being late to my sports class on Thursday morning. As expected, I was sent to Bronze's office. Her decision was radical... I had two hours of personal training doing laps around the field.

Add to that my morning delays, which my bed continues to cause. For that, I got dishwashing duties in the cafeteria on Thursday and Friday after every meal. The upside was being assisted by Leah, who received the same punishment from Engen, Bronze's partner, for skipping classes. Time passed faster. We even ended our last day with a water fight that Bronze interrupted. I thought we would extend our punishment, but in the end, she just scolded us for being soaked and told us to clean up our mess.

I accepted all of this without complaint because it was expected. What I couldn't tolerate was her confiscating all my electronics behind my back just before the weekend. It didn’t take me long to notice and tell her what I thought. She justified her action by keeping her cool. It turns out she had learned about my inattentive and provocative behavior in class. She wanted to make me reflect over the weekend when my outing pass was denied. However, my cheekiness made her change her mind, and she decided to return my things at an unspecified time, more precisely when I had calmed down, according to her.

Because of her, I was irritated all weekend to the point of conducting my little investigation during her absence. My first idea was to find her room to recover my belongings. The problem was, I found nothing while searching it. I then changed my plans, not wanting to waste the opportunity. I knew it would drive her crazy to know I was here, so I emptied her wardrobe and all her drawers, scattering everything around. Surprisingly, I discovered nothing valuable. I expected her to look for me earlier this morning, but she must have been absent since it was Engen who checked our room. It’s a shame because Bronze missed my first-ever achievement of being ready on time. It takes me a good hour to finish cleaning her room. I intended to collapse onto the desk, but she stops me in my tracks.

“Uh-uh. Change the sheets on my bed while you’re at it.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“I’m sorry, OK?” I grumble. “I get it, I crossed the line! I just wanted to get my laptop and phone back!”

“You don’t get it at all,” she says in a dismissive tone. “You’re just trying to weasel your way out. If you really understood the lesson, you wouldn’t be talking back!”

I stay silent, faced with the truth. Her words won’t make me regret my actions. I step back as she gets up from her chair. I expected her to do something, but she just walks past me to get new sheets. So she wasn’t joking. I don’t hide my boredom.

“Come on, make my bed,” she encourages. “Then we’ll leave.”

“Again?” I sigh.

“You’re mine for the day. I plan to make you endure things that will make you think twice before pulling your next stunt.”

I go to her to get a sports uniform that she hands me. It's a new one that she must have picked up from the stock. I lock myself in her bathroom, a room I hadn't even thought to check. It's newer than mine. It has a sink with a larger countertop and a big mirror. My small shower cubicle doesn't compare to her huge walk-in shower behind the toilet. I stop making comparisons and place the clothes I'm wearing next to her sink to replace them with sweatpants, a t-shirt, and my jacket. I might need it if we stay outside. I don't linger and rejoin Bronze, who hasn't moved from her spot since earlier.

"What should I do with my uniform?" I asked.

"Where did you put it?"

"Folded next to the sink."

"Leave it there; you'll put it back on later."

I nodded, and she jumped off her desk. We headed out to the multi-sport fields. I didn’t wait for her orders to go to the edge of the field, ready to run. Her grip finally stopped me.

"We’re not starting with that today. First, you’re going to do fifty push-ups," she ordered.

"What? But there’s mud everywhere!"

"So what? At least next time, you’ll remember not to mess with me."

"Please-"

"No, Ona. Stop arguing! I’m already very patient with you, so don’t ask me to be even more patient because it’s not possible!"

"I can't do them..." I finally admitted in a whisper.

"Pardon?"

"I’ve never managed to do them," I said louder, avoiding her eyes.

"Well, you’re going to learn now. Come on, get on the ground, I'll help you."

I sighed but obeyed, looking for a spot with less mud. I could only blame myself for this punishment. My knees weren’t spared, but at least I avoided stains on other parts. I fell onto my hands and extended my legs to stay elevated. It was hard to hold. Even more so when I felt my supervisor's hands on my waist. I tensed, but I held on to avoid making her pull back immediately.

"Relax. I just want to position you correctly, okay?" she said.

I nodded at her explanation. I tried to relax, but it was hard. Her presence was unsettling. One of her hands slid under my belly while the other was on my shoulder to straighten me up.

"Don’t move your back. I’m going to reposition your legs, so try to hold your position."

She unexpectedly grabbed one of my ankles. My body reacted by keeping it on the ground. Again, she asked me to let go. Once I did, she brought my ankle closer to the other until they were almost touching. When she announced I was good, my arms gave out. I ended up flat on my stomach in the mud, growling in frustration.

"It’s okay. You’re just not used to working your arms," she explained. "Try to get back into position like I just showed you."

I nodded and got back on my hands and feet. My position must have been correct since she didn’t have to adjust much. Just my back, which was rounded again.

"Do them with motivation. I’d like you to find a regular rhythm if possible."

"It’s going to be hard," I mumbled.

"That’s the point. I want you to feel your body heating up tomorrow and think of me, remembering why I made you do this."

"I get the lesson, Bronze," I tried.

"No, you don’t. Do something like this again, and it’s going to be worse for you. It won’t just be push-ups and laps around the field next time. Do we agree?"

"Yes..."

Throughout this, I was still holding myself up on my arms. They started to shake from lack of strength. Bronze was no longer angry, but her voice remained firm. She wanted me to submit, and she was getting it. I was at her feet in every sense of the word. I was on the verge of giving up, but she ordered me to hold on. I really had to dig deep mentally to manage it.

"I want you to understand that if I give you a sanction, it’s not for my pleasure. Every punishment has its reasons."

"I understand..."

"No, not yet," she replied. "But it will come."

"I’m telling you I un-"

"I said no," she cut me off harshly. "Do you understand that I’m not against you?"

My silence spoke volumes about my thoughts. No, that I didn’t understand. To me, she was holding me back, so she was against me. I just wanted to be left alone and live my life. Bronze did the opposite by always coming down on me.

"Then you don’t understand," she concluded. "You’ll understand the meaning of your sanctions when you accept that I’m not the villain. Anyway, let’s get back to where we were. Start your push-ups. You’ll even count them out loud for me. I’ll reduce them to thirty since it’s your first time. Okay?"

"Yes, Bronze."

"Let’s go. One!"

I groaned at the sound of the first number. I bent my arms and pushed to try and lift myself. In vain. I fell pitifully to the ground. If I had been in Bronze’s place, I would have laughed at myself, but she didn’t. Instead, she encouraged me to try again with more effort. I’d like to see her try! If she had my body, she’d understand my struggle. I didn’t doubt hers was very athletic. I tried again, putting all my strength into it. I shouted the number in a victorious cry when I managed the push-up. I was back on the ground the next second. I felt my morning was going to be very long...

Monday, October 12; 1:10 p.m. - Bathroom.

I was washing my hands for the second time to remove the dried mud that was hard to get off. The sky had been clear this morning, but yesterday’s rain hadn’t spared me. I had just finished my punishment. Bronze was leaning against the sink next to me, watching me with a mocking smile. I didn’t see what was funny. I was covered in mud, both my clothes and the few inches of visible skin. Don’t even mention my face. I had fallen countless times during the push-ups. My record was probably three in a row.

"Are you okay?" she asked cheerfully. "Let me help you."

"No, it’s fine."

"Oh, stop being a killjoy and let me help."

She tore off a piece of paper towel meant for drying hands and wet it. I tried to take it, but she slapped my fingers. I realized too late that she had trapped me between the faucet and her. I grumbled as she wiped the wet paper on my face.

"I could have done it."

"I’m trying to be nice; can’t you tell?"

I smiled slightly, averting my eyes. I let her continue, crossing my arms. She might be nice in real life, but not with me.

"Stop pouting."

"I’ll pout if I want to."

"Child."

I looked at her indignantly. I doubted an instructor had the right to insult a student. She probably allowed herself because it was unlikely anyone would believe me if I reported her.

"I give myself every right with you, and you’re probably right. No one would believe you."

"Did I speak out loud?"

"It seems so," she smiled. "Don’t move; I’ll be right back."

It was hard to leave with my face dripping water. She got another paper towel to dry my face before throwing it away. I looked in the mirror to admire her work. I thanked her as she washed her hands. I would have liked to change before eating, but Bronze had made it clear it wasn’t possible if we still wanted to be served. It would be the last straw if we couldn’t eat when she planned to keep me this afternoon. I wouldn’t last without something in my stomach. We arrived at an empty cafeteria. Fortunately, the cook offered to reheat a meal for each of us. He probably felt sorry for my appearance. I went first in line and greeted the staff I had recently worked with. They were all super nice. Once served, I went to my usual spot among all the empty tables. I flopped down on my chair, taking a deep breath. This break would finally let me relax. The soreness was already setting in. At the same time, she hadn’t gone easy on me. She had pushed me to the limit, though she admitted holding back. It was a good lesson. I wasn’t going to anger her anytime soon.

"Can I sit?"

I swallowed my bite with difficulty, nodding. I hadn’t expected her to join me. After all, it was just the two of us. It would be ridiculous to eat at two different tables. My break would be less restful than I had imagined.

"I’m here if you ever feel the need to talk," she said, surprising me.

I look up at her two emeralds that disturb me so much. She shows no hint of joking. This isn't the first time she's told me she wants to help. It seems she still doesn't understand that I don't want it, that I can't. It's beyond my strength.

"No, it's okay, thanks. It's not my thing."

"But it would do you good."

"You don't know me, you have no idea," I retorted coldly.

"You're right. So tell me about yourself."

"I don't see why it matters to you. It's been a long time since anyone's taken an interest in me. It's not going to change now."

"I care about you. You owe me that much after what you've put me through. Let's start with something basic. Do you have a passion, perhaps?"

She never gives up. I just found someone even more stubborn than me. I didn't think it was possible. I relax my shoulders and resign myself to answering her.

"I like art. Sometimes I draw."

"Draw?" she repeats, surprised.

"Yeah... It lets me express myself on paper and clear my head," I argued.

"But you don't have any drawing supplies in your room."

"I knew you searched my room!" I exclaimed.

"I didn't search, she rolls her eyes, exasperated. I just looked for your devices."

"You searched!"

"Okay... I searched if you want. Now answer me. Why don't you have any drawing supplies?"

"I thought I'd have access to downtown, but that's not the case."

I've only been here a week, but I admit I miss my pencils. It was my way of clearing my mind before sleeping. Now I listen to music or go on the computer. At least... I used to.

"When can I get my things back?" I asked.

"I don't know," she replies. "We could make a deal."

"A deal?"

"Yeah, we've made one before. I'm ready to give them back to you in exchange for something."

"It depends on what you're proposing..." I said, skeptical.

"Okay. Hmm... How about I give you your things back on Friday if you're on time every morning this week?"

"Really?" I asked enthusiastically.

"It's not the end of the world, is it?" she asks, tilting her head. "I'm not even asking you to stop your other nonsense. Just to be ready in the morning."

"Deal," I agreed, extending my hand.

She looks surprised at my quick response. She shakes my hand firmly. I wouldn't have agreed to the deal if I wasn't sure of myself. I know I can do it.

"And if I fail?"

"We'll extend the deal to the following week. Again and again until you succeed."

"I'll succeed."

"You seem very confident," she says with a smile.

"I practiced making my bed perfectly this weekend," I tell her. "It shouldn't be a problem anymore."

"Well, we'll see if your training pays off. In any case, keep it up, I prefer this behavior."

I smile shyly, lowering my head. I'm not used to being praised. It was quite the opposite in recent years.

"Miss Bronze, I've finally found you!"

I straighten up as I see the director approaching us. Bronze was her entire focus until she saw me. She furrows her brows and turns back to my supervisor when she reaches us.

"Ona has been causing trouble again by not being in class at this time?"

"You could say that," she replies. "Nothing too serious."

Why is she lying? I turned an instructor's room upside down - hers, to be exact. I don't think Wiegman would call that "nothing too serious." She just sighs.

"Fine, if you say so. Are you busy this afternoon?"

"I decided to keep Ona with me," she admits. "Do you need me?"

"Actually, we're missing quite a few things for tonight's meeting. A buffet was supposed to be arranged, but nothing is going right. I'd like you to make a trip to town."

I observe the exchange attentively. My supervisor seems annoyed. She has a habit of running her hand through her hair when something displeases her. She must not appreciate Wiegman changing her plans at the last minute.

"Alright, but I have one condition."

"Which is?"

"That you allow me to take her with me," she says, pointing at me.

I'm as surprised as Wiegman by her request. Nothing would make me happier than for her to take me to town. All I want is to get out of this place, even for just five minutes. The director doesn't share my enthusiasm judging by her expression.

"Is that necessary?"

"Yes," she says, crossing her arms. "I want to keep an eye on her."

"Fine, but you'd better be careful. This is the first time I'm allowing a student to leave the establishment in the middle of the week."

"That's my intention, mam," she replies promptly. "I prefer knowing she's with me rather than leaving her alone here, unsupervised."

"Alright, I trust you anyway. Here's the list of what we need," she says, handing it to her. "Thanks again."

She turns away without waiting for a response. I can hardly believe what just happened. Bronze asked for me to accompany her to town. I can't believe it. I'm going to be able to leave this place! I thought she wanted to skin me alive after what I did to her.

"Wipe that smile off your face," she says, which makes me lose it. "I just don't want to leave you alone. You lost my trust the moment you entered my room."

"I promise you I regret it. At least... Not at first, but now I do."

"Whatever. You've just earned having me more on your back. It's time you got used to my presence, Ona, because you and I won't be parting from now on."

I swallow hard. If she intends to make me regret my mistake, she's already succeeded. She lets me finish my dessert before we clear our trays. Not knowing what to do or where to go, I follow her. We first return to her room where she asks me to put on my uniform.

"Put the one you're wearing in my laundry basket. I'll have it washed."

"When will you stop giving me orders?" I muttered under my breath.

"When you stop doing things your own way."

I thought she wouldn't hear me... I was wrong! She surprises me by giving me a kick in the butt to prompt me to enter the bathroom. I don't hesitate to go. I can finally take off these clothes. I put everything in her laundry basket, as she asked, then I put on my uniform. I come out fixing my messy hair. Bronze is waiting for me patiently on her bed.

"Can we go?"

"Yep."

We head out, passing the cafeteria on foot. I discover a place behind the gym hidden by trees. It's a large parking lot. Bronze unlocks a car from a distance with the key. I think I'm dreaming when I see the orange lights flashing on a black Audi A5.

"Is this your car?"

"Whose else would it be?"

"Well, I don't know... Maybe your boyfriend's."

She smiles slightly, shaking her head. I get into her car, forgetting her answer. I'm in an Audi! I've always had a soft spot for this brand. It has an undeniable class. To think my supervisor owns one. I'm jealous. The interior is equipped with black leather seats more comfortable than my own bed. It has just the right amount of space. I love it! She drives without exceeding second gear to reach the entrance. I'm sure she has a sports package given how the car purrs. I have no doubt when she takes off furiously down the street, leaving me completely pressed into the seat.

"It's mine," she snapped.

"So, no boyfriend then?" I asked playfully. "Not surprising, given your commanding attitude."

"Shut up," she retorted with a slight smile. "I might not know much about you, but you know nothing about me."

"Exactly, I told you something about me. You could do the same."

"No. I don't trust you anymore, and anyway, the rules forbid me from talking about my private life."

I sighed in frustration, settling into the seat. The trip continued in silence as I distracted myself with the scenery. Only houses passed by. It’s always better than the dilapidated walls of the camp. I'm seeing Manchester for the first time. I was so on edge when I arrived that I didn’t pay attention to the outside. We arrived at the supermarket parking lot, where she parked with a view of downtown buildings in the distance. She got out of the car while I looked at the supermarket. It seemed huge, almost double the size of the one I'm used to in Barcelona. I jumped when Bronze knocked on my window.

"Move it, we don't have all day."

Always so friendly... I unbuckled the seatbelt that still held me hostage as she opened the door for me. I grabbed what I recognized as a shopping cart token.

"Where should I get this?" I asked.

"We're going together; I’m not leaving you alone."

The opposite would have been strange. We grabbed a cart at the entrance, and unsurprisingly, I was the one tasked with pushing it. We entered the supermarket. I discreetly observed Bronze, who was busy reading the shopping list.

"Are you from here?"

"None of your business."

"You seem to know the place..."

"Stop."

"You're not funny," I sighed, leaning on the cart.

"I'm not particularly trying to be. Stand up straight, you're not a pasha."

I groaned in frustration. It seemed she decided to go back to being the unpleasant officer. I observed the environment I missed. I hadn't had any social contact for a week. It was mostly old people, but it was still better than the annoying faces of the camp students who kept staring at me. I was brought back to reality when fingers snapped in front of my nose.

"Stop daydreaming, Batlle. Let's go."

I sighed, walking beside her. She kept my pace, giving me time to notice that there were a lot of people for a Monday afternoon. We went aisle by aisle, as they came. We stopped whenever we found something on the list. The cart gradually filled up with towels, plates, drinks, snacks, and biscuits. The guests for tonight's meeting would be well-treated. I wished I could be in their place.

"Wait here, I forgot something in the next aisle."

I nodded. Anyway, I couldn't go anywhere without her. She was driving, and even if I wanted to leave, I didn't know the city and had no money or phone. I wouldn't get far. I watched Bronze until she was out of sight. I sighed in boredom. Shopping with an instructor was far from fun. The worst part was that she hadn't spoken since I insisted on getting information about her. That was stupid. I took advantage of her absence to lean on the cart and scan the surroundings. My gaze stopped on two young people in particular. They were the only ones I'd seen since the beginning. One of them was covered in piercings and tattoos. Nothing too extreme, just enough. I observed their hands seeking each other. I straightened up suddenly. I couldn't believe it! How could they do that in a supermarket! It might have gone unnoticed by others, but not by me. I felt suddenly shaky. Damn... I should never have seen that. The young man who had grabbed the merchandise continued his route as if nothing had happened. The other must have felt someone watching because he turned his head towards me. It was now or never. My hands were trembling. I stood up from the cart. I needed to talk to him, to negotiate to get some too! Just as I decided to go, a strong hand on my shoulder dissuaded me. I turned to see Bronze with a disapproving frown.

"Where were you planning to go?"

I slightly parted my lips, searching for a quick excuse. She looked up at the dealer. I did the same and saw that the guy I was about to approach was fleeing. Damn, he must have been scared!

"I... Well, since you were taking your time... Um... I wanted to see where you were."

"Don't bullshit me!" she snapped coldly.

I widened my eyes, not expecting such an excessive reaction. She understood everything, no doubt about it.

"Walk ahead," she said, pushing me from behind.

My hands clenched around the cart. I couldn't stop trembling. So close to the goal... I was frustrated and had messed up again. Bronze knew. The situation was even tenser than before. We made one last stop to get the final item on the list.

"If you've come this far, you better avoid relapsing," she broke the silence.

"Hmm."

"I'm serious," she frowned. "You don't need that crap to feel good for a short while."

"What does it matter to you? I have the right to do what I want."

"No, you don't have that right since I'm with you. And maybe I care because I'm worried about you!"

"Worried about me?" I scoffed. "Don't bullshit me! No one has worried about me for a long time. I don't need your pity, thanks."

I sped up, trying to find the registers alone. Bronze told me to slow down, but I ignored her. I just wanted her to leave me alone. Unfortunately for me, she caught up quickly.

"You really need to stop being so stubborn! I'm responsible for you, OK? And yes, I worry about you! You'll have to deal with it."

She sighed when she got no reaction from me. I didn't even flinch. I couldn't help it if I didn't believe her. Words are easy to say. It's another thing to back them up. She just guided me to the register when she realized she wouldn't get anything from me. I'd had enough arguments for today. I helped unload the items onto the conveyor belt when it was our turn, then did the reverse. When we finished, she paid with an envelope Wiegman had given her in the cafeteria. We loaded the car, then I returned the cart. The drive back was silent. Thankfully the trip was short because I couldn't stand the situation any longer. It was all my fault, and to top it off, my hands were still shaking.

"Give me your hand."

I shook my head vigorously. I didn't want any contact with her, especially since we were supposed to be on bad terms. But she didn't give me a choice and took my hand herself, slipping hers into mine by force. I hated my body for betraying me. I was supposed to refuse being touched, but I had no strength left. I was mentally disturbed, and my body decided to seek comfort from the person I hated the most at that moment. I hated her for being who she was. I hated her for daring to touch and care about me. And yet, I also hated her when she let go to shift gears. I could have done without her little smile, letting me know she understood that I needed her. I'm so contradictory. My tremors subsided during the ride. We arrived at the camp. She turned off the car after parking.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah... Thanks," I managed to get out with a tight throat.

"Let's take it easy for the rest of the day. You'll help me set up the meeting room, and we'll take the chance to talk and lower the tension between us. Okay?"

I nodded, and she smiled back. Maybe my day wouldn't end as badly as I thought. I was grateful she didn't continue with punishments. I couldn't imagine doing anything physical after this episode. Once again, I was mentally and physically drained because of her. She'll be the death of me one day, for sure!

[navybrat817]

Epinephrine

Summary: Bucky races to win as you watch with anticipation.

Pairing: Motocross!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Word Count: Over 1.5k Warnings: Nerves, K-I-S-S-I-NG, swearing, POV switch, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Graphics talent and thanks: Banner by @sgt-seabass. Divider by @saradika. Bucky edit by Nix. Moodboard by yours truly. A/N: My third Connect 4 (C4007 - Square 3) / Into an Alternate Juneiverse for @buckybarnesevents! Set in my Dialed In AU, but can be read as a standalone. Apologies for any inaccuracies, but I'm human and still had fun writing this.❤️ Thank you @targaryenvampireslayer for the POV switch suggestion! Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Epinephrine. Both a hormone and a neurotransmitter, the chemical messenger transmits nerve signals to prepare your body for fight or flight. Most call it adrenaline. Some liken it to pre-race jitters.

Bucky considered it his own personal fuel.

Just breathe.

It amazed him how so many wrote off motocross as just another sport without considering the physical and mental training they put into it or how dangerous it was. Position, weight distribution, and correct form on the bike were all things to consider when practicing and racing. Not to mention no two tracks are alike, the conditions constantly changing. You had to take the hills, jumps, turns, and distance for your own safety and those around you.

He mentally wished Steve and the others a safe race, even Rumlow. Prick or not, he didn’t want the guy to get hurt. He sure as hell didn't want to lose to him either.

"For what it’s worth, I’m glad you didn’t hit him. Because he would have won and guys like him don’t deserve to win."

No, he doesn't.

His heart raced a little faster, his right palm starting to sweat as the nerves and excitement clashed in his chest. The knot in his stomach settled as he waited for the race to start, his focus on the path in front of him. The rough terrain ahead called to him, urging him to unleash whatever anger, fear, joy, and anything he had built up inside. He would go all out, leaving no regrets in his path.

All leading to you after he crossed the finish line.

"Good luck."

Gave me all the luck I need, Spitfire.

With your voice in his mind, it quieted any doubt that lingered. He knew his strengths and even his limits when it came to the sport. Getting back on the bike after his accident already proved that he was a winner. He didn't need to prove himself to anyone else.

But he hoped you would see his worth.

And as the gate dropped, he smiled behind his helmet.

You grabbed Natasha's arm as the riders took off, keeping an eye out for Bucky. She didn't pull away or make a comment when you dug your nails in. You appreciated her a bit more because of that. You also didn't understand why you were nervous when you weren't the one on the track.

I've seen plenty of races, but I didn't have anything at stake before.

"Sorry," you muttered as you let the redhead go.

"It's okay. He's got this," she assured you.

You nodded, doing your best to give her a smile. A mile and a half long course and likely a twenty to thirty minute race and extra lap, you knew it was standard. But watching the dirt fly as you focused on Bucky's helmet, your heart felt like it was in your throat. You didn't just want him to win, you wanted him safe.

Just breathe. He knows what he's doing.

"If he gets hurt, I'm kicking his ass," you said, sucking in a breath as another rider got close to his back wheel.

"And nurse him back to health," Natasha teased.

"Yeah. With a uniform and all," you teased, actually kind of into the idea.

Down girl.

You got uncharacteristically quiet after that, your stomach dropping when Maddox gained on Bucky. He was still in a good position, his friend, Steve, up there with him. It was almost like witnessing a roller coaster ride, the ups and downs, the twists and drops. Adrenaline pumped through your veins and you could only imagine how the guys out there felt actually experiencing it.

Exhilarating.

As the riders got close to the final lap, you jumped up. You somehow stayed on your feet when your head spun, but you weren't going to miss this. Bucky and Maddox were almost neck-in-neck, but Maddox probably thought he had it in the bag. That kind of cockiness didn't always pay off.

You sure as hell didn’t want it to pay off today.

"Come on, Hothead," you whispered.

While Maddox turned his head to look at Bucky, the latter kept his head facing forward and elbows up. As if he didn't care that his competition was there. He raced smarter, not harder, as you watched with bated breath. He kept his lead toward the finish line as you couldn’t help but smile.

Bucky Barnes won the race.

He won. He fucking won.

"Fuck yes!" you shouted, uncaring of your language as Bucky took first, his left fist pumping in the air. The way everyone else cheered, they probably didn't notice. But you finally felt like you could take a proper breath, the mental ride coming to a stop. "For the record, I'm just happy he made it across the finish line. This has nothing to do with the date."

I can actually smell my own bullshit.

"Wow. You managed to say that with a straight face. Impressive," Natasha said, nodding toward the course as the race wrapped up. "Come on. Let's go congratulate him. And by we I mean you."

"He raced a good race. It was very exciting," you said evenly, but you eagerly pulled her along to get out of the stands and through the crowd.

You weren’t sure if you were actually allowed to go up to greet him, but people moved to let you through. Was it your strut or Natasha’s subtle stare that made everyone jump out of the way? As you got closer to Bucky and the other riders, you felt like your heart was going to race out of your chest when you stopped at the edge of the course. Especially when took off his helmet, a light sheen of sweat on his face as he shook his hair out.

Fuck me in the dirt, please.

“Go,” Natasha encouraged after some of the guys congratulated Bucky, except for Maddox who stood feet away with a glare on his face.

Sore loser doesn’t look good on him, but he’s not why I’m here.

Holding your head high, you locked eyes with Bucky when he looked your way. Seemingly forgetting the others around him, he walked toward you to meet you halfway when you stepped in the dirt. The two of you stood there for a long moment before he smirked. A slight one, but still a smirk.

“Looks like I won,” he said, his voice rough.

“You did. Congratulations,” you said, stepping back to hold out your hand. “And it looks like you get to go out with me, so double congratulations,” you simpered, previous annoyance that he bet a date with you completely forgotten.

“Are we shaking on it?” he chuckled, his gloved hand reaching for yours. A spark of electricity moved up your arm once he took it and you refused to deny your attraction at that moment.

“You could say that,” you smirked, yanking him close. “But I prefer to seal it with a kiss.”

You took a moment to appreciate how soft and warm his lips felt when you initiated the kiss this time. You allowed his tongue to slip inside and explore when you parted your lips, feeling the beat of his heart as he pressed his chest against your body. It wasn’t hard or urgent, but excitement and passion consumed you. It didn’t matter if he got your clothes dirty. Or that a few of the riders whistled and cheered at the display.

He smiled against your lips when you had to take a breath. “I thought you said you weren’t a prize.”

“And I thought you said your ass was all mine after you win,” you reminded him, almost wishing you reached around to squeeze it. Even dirty and sweaty, he still looked and smelled amazing. It was a phenomenon.

“I did and I meant it,” he said, sneaking in another kiss before he had to pull away. “You sticking around?”

“I’ll be with Nat. Go do what you have to,” you said, turning away to back to your friend. She had a smile on her face. You had one on yours, too.

“I still have to get your number, so don’t go anywhere!” Bucky called after you.

“Who said I was giving you my number?” you asked over your shoulder. “I never agreed to that.”

“How am I supposed to take you on a date without it?” he asked.

“You seem like a smart guy. You’ll figure it out, Hothead,” you teased, egging him on just a little.

“Want me to get on my knees, Spitfire?”

Yes and split me open with that talented tongue of yours.

“She’ll give you her number,” Natasha said, waving Bucky on as you laughed. You may have checked his ass out again because he did say it was yours. And he no doubt checked yours out as you walked away. “You are giving him your number before we leave.”

“I will,” you promised, giving her a small smile. “I’m glad you introduced me to him,” you added gently, looking forward to getting to know him more.

“And I’m glad you put a smile back on his face.”

Hearing that felt like a victory.

I guess we’re both winners today, Hothead.

Yay! He won! Was there ever any doubt? More to come. Love and thanks for reading. ���️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[tjwritesfanfics]

Universe Twelve *King Knight*

Pairing: Thorn Adams x Reader

Summary: Thorn’s upbringing was horrible, it felt like betrayal at first, but you weren’t going to let your leader face his demons alone. Your loyalty has him questioning everything around him.

Rating: Teen?

Warnings: Cheating?? And drug tripping

Words: 650

Every Universe Masterlist | Main Masterlist

AN I know that Willow accepted Thorn, but for now we enjoy fiction

“Banish him.” Your head whips to look at Rowena. “Banish him.” Then to Percival. Soon everyone had joined in, a chorus of banish him ringing in your ears.

They can’t be serious! Eyes going to Thorn, his head lowered, a defeated aura coming from him. You lock eyes with his life partner, Willow, pleading with her to help him. To do something, but all you could see on her face was betrayal.

You could understand where the coven was coming from, but to banish Thorn instead of embracing him went against everything you personally stood for. Judge not by the past, but by the actions they put forth.

Thorn bids everyone goodbye, grabbing his walking helper for his walk about and left the house.

“How could you all turn your back on him?!” You shout, jumping from your spot on the couch, unbridled anger in your eyes. “I understand not all of you were outcasts growing up, but that shouldn’t matter right now! Thorn has done nothing but be welcoming and understanding to all of your plights and now that he has a problem you turn away.”

“And you!” You turn to Willow. “You are his life partner. If anything, I would expect you to encourage him. Priestess, you disappoint me.”

Rushing past the people you considered your family, you chase after the only man who had ever understood you. You knew he found his life partner in Willow, but that didn’t stop you from being drawn to Thorn. You never questioned the force of fate before and you weren’t going to start now.

“Thorn!” He jumped slightly, not expecting anyone to come after him, and turned to you with wide eyes. “You can’t go on a walk about alone. You have weak ankles.”

“How did you… Y/n you can’t stop me. I need to face my demons.”

You shake your head, grabbing and handing him the canister you found on the picnic table, “Not alone you don’t have to. Everyone deserves someone to lean on, even if it’s just to make sure you don’t hurt yourself along the way. And also staying hydrated.”

Thorn stared at the canister for a moment before drinking half and handing it to you. “If you insist on coming, I am not the one to stop you, but please you also need to be hydrated as well.”

You toast to Thorn, downing the rest of the liquid, ready to follow him wherever this trip may lead you.

Colors became taste. Sight became sound. The gravity you felt once holding you down wasn’t there and floating became your mode of transportation.

You were unsure how far you and Thorn had traveled, continuing to lean on each other for strength, physically, spiritually, and mentally.

Never before had you felt this close to Thorn. Sitting together under a tree, a stable rock in one of his hands and a wise and wild pinecone in yours.

“You love him.” The pinecone echoed your own thoughts, “His life partner abandoned him, but you stay by his side.” You shake your head. As much as you yearn for Thorn, you weren’t going to come between him and the woman the universe chose.

“You love her.” Thorn looked at the rock he held in his hand. He knew the rock was right, but a part of him had a hard time accepting it. Willow was his life partner, but she betrayed him, though justified, it still hurt. But you went with him. Didn’t take no for an answer and refused to let him be alone with his own thoughts. It was probably the only reason Thorn had made it this far, made up his mind to go and face the people at the reunion.

Once this was all over, Thorn knew what he had to do. You would become his new life partner, possibly his true and forever life partner.

(Banners by cafekitsune)

[cruel-hiraeth]

No like I feel u on the Zoro thing… like the closest I’ve even come to remotely dc for him is a little swordplay but like otherwise I just can’t do it! He’s just a good dude, I can’t put him thru all that!!

YOU GET ME!!!!! (although to be fair i haven’t seen much dark content written for zoro in the first place…but then again it’s not like i’m seeking it out.)

of course people are free to write whatever they want forever! i want that to be beyond clear before i say anything else. i do like to think that everything i write, however, is rooted in [insert character]’s canonical personality. of course i take liberties and i have hcs (both fanon + personal). but for me, the joy of fanfic lies in fleshing out all the sides of a 2d character so that they feel human.

zoro is deceptively complex. a lot of people assume he’s a jock/meathead (accusations he cannot entirely dodge!) he is a tank, but it’s deeper than that. he’s shouldering his dead best friend’s legacy; he adopted her dream as a young boy, and pursues it even now as an adult. the mental and physical and spiritual strain he consistently puts himself under speaks to his strength of resolve and utter determination. yes, he’s a goofy idiot who can’t tell left from right and overindulges when he drinks. but he has also honed his entire being into a weapon through (frankly inhuman) training.

despite his own goals, he’s selfless. he’s always jumping in to help others. not because he considers himself a hero, but because his moral compass demands that he does so. he’s unwavering in his loyalty—especially to luffy. and that doesn’t entail being a yes man; he is quick to tell luffy when he is wrong. and he always protects the crew. his (often unintentional) care means that weaker people and creatures cling to him. because—despite his gruff demeanor and perpetual scowl—he’s a comforting presence. when you’re with him, you know you’re safe.

i think zoro has seen and experienced too much bloodshed to ever cross certain lines in a romantic relationship. he’s not even searching for romance to begin with; it’s not something that crosses his mind until he’s smacked in the face with it—he’s too focused on becoming the best swordsman. sex and attraction and all those messy matters of the heart are way beyond his scope of interest and comprehension (i also hc that he’s demisexual).

once he does have a romantic partner, i imagine that he’s fiercely protective of them. not possessive or jealous, but protective. i simply can’t fathom him putting someone he cherishes in harm’s way. and again: people are free to explore and write whatever they want about any character! but i can’t even write swordplay with him because those weapons serve a very specific purpose: to protect his friends and to slay his enemies. i can hear him saying that they don’t belong in a loving scenario. and i he’d rather end his own life—and all the dreams his existence carries, for both himself and others—than put you in harm’s way. sex is difficult for him in both its intimacy and vulnerability. he knows that he’s strong, but because of his strength, he’s afraid of hurting you.

i’m well aware that i’m biased, but i simply refuse to put zoro in dubious situations. i adore so many things about him: his drive; his pride; his loyalty; his bluntness; his respect of others. no matter how goofy or serious he is in any given moment, he’s forever earnest. and it’s that earnestness that i want to preserve above all else. i just can’t take advantage of him! he’s such a special guy 💚

anyway 🧍 this was the most unhinged rambling. i’m so fucking sorry nonnie LMFAO 💀 i hope your day is treating you well!

[melpomenelamusa]

Changes - Chimeras

~Original story~

Previous

CW: Mention of a corpse, mention of drowning.

As promised, the next day Elafi's training began.

Warrick used a tatami mat they brought from Elafi's old house (Elafi and her mother used to practice yoga together) and placed it in a cleared area of ​​the yard, next to the orchard.

"To extinguish a fire, you must first know how one is created," the man explained. He took off his shirt and was left with only a white sleeveless undershirt, revealing the brown skin of his muscular arms. Next to him, Elafi felt like a toothpick. "You´ll learn how to attack to defend yourself, and how to defend to attack. Study your own body and you´ll know how your opponent's body works. You, who are a chimera child, have weaknesses and strengths that most people do not. If you learn to use them to your advantage, then you´ll be able to take care of yourself."

Elafi listened with excitement to each of the words, feeling the adrenaline spread through his limbs. He was tired of living on the run, tired of being just “prey” for others. He was much more.

They started with stretching and a basic warm-up.

“I took a self-defense course when I was younger,” Warrick said. “That’s how I met my ex-wife. She’s a physical education teacher and practiced athletics for many years. It was one of the things that brought us together when we first started dating. To this day, I still don’t regret having decided to take those classes.”

Warrick tested Elafi in different areas, such as flexibility, endurance, speed and strength, to get a better idea of ​​where to work on the basics and what skills to continue developing. He made the teen run laps around the cabin; carry heavy sandbags, jump, do squats, among other activities.

“You have decent flexibility and speed, but your strength and endurance are quite low,” he commented.

Elafi had thrown himself onto the mat. He was short of breath and a horrible nausea rose from his stomach. He felt like if he moved too much he would vomit or faint.

"C-can we... take a... little... break?" he asked, panting.

"You can take the rest of the afternoon," Warrick said. "Rest. Tomorrow we'll begin serious training."

As the days went by, they developed a routine: after fulfilling his responsibilities around the house and in the garden, Elafi dedicated himself to training. During the morning he did the exercises Warrick assigned him and in the afternoon he taught him basic defense techniques.

"Stand more firmly and learn to dodge," Warrick said, after throwing Elafi onto the tatami with a blow. "Control your center of gravity. If you learn to 'fall,' even if you are knocked down, you will be able to get up faster." 

The day after training, Elafi woke up feeling like he'd been put through a shredder. His muscles howled at the slightest movement, and just getting out of bed was a harrowing task. "I wish I was a plushie," he thought. "Then my life would consist only of looking cute and people hugging me. Right now, on the contrary, I feel like a piñata."

On the days that Elafi wasn't doing the physical exercises that Warrick assigned him, he devoted himself to doing another type of training. Lupita, whom they began to visit occasionally, also reminded him to explore more about his “magical gift.” Elafi took advantage of those days to meditate in contact with nature, trying to understand what the trees were telling him. Sometimes he could ask them for something to eat and the trees would show him a mental image of where to find edible fruits or mushrooms in the forest. Elafi didn´t know how to explain how this type of communication worked, he only knew that as long as he was in contact with the earth and there was a plant nearby, he could “communicate” with it.

“It’s more like something perceptive,” he tried to explain to Warrick one day. “It’s not like I hear words or the trees tell me something as such. It’s more like an image suddenly appears in my mind, or I feel something, but I feel like a feeling, more like an emotion than something of touch.”

"Yeah, I think I'll leave that 'magic' part to you alone," Warrick said, sipping from his cup of coffee.

Several weeks passed like this. By then, Elafi's antlers had already grown back (according to the teenager, they were two millimeters larger than before), so any visit to the city was completely forbidden. When Warrick was away, Elafi would spend his time resting in the forest: looking for some comfortable area, perhaps a clearing full of cushioned grass or soft moss, and dozing; or sometimes he would decide to follow the course of the stream, dipping his hooves in the refreshing, clear water, and looking for eroded colored pebbles that he would later keep in a drawer in his room.

That day he had gone down to the wide part of the river. The water looked green and the flow was much stronger. Warrick had already warned him not to go in there, not only because it was much deeper and Elafi didn´t know how to swim, but also because it was the habitat of crocodiles and snakes. The river continued on, passing under the road. Elafi had seen it as he passed over the bridge leading into town, stretching out into the distance like a green snake.

He was thinking of going down to look for stones when he saw something that caught his attention: there was a body on the riverbank. It was lying on its side on the sand, its back to Elafi. It was a thin body, with long black hair. It seemed to be wearing a knee-length dress and tights, and only one of its feet still had a broken heel on.

Elafi felt a chill run down his spine. He had never seen a dead body in his life, and he wasn't at all thrilled that this was the first time. Could this person be a drowned person from the river? The body was completely soaked. But what if it was someone who was still alive and needed help? The body was inert and at this distance he couldn't see if was breathing.

"What should I do?" he asked out loud, distressed.

The trees seemed to lean their branches towards the body and Elafi decided to follow their advice, taking slow steps until he reached the person's side.

It was a girl. Her pink lips were half-open, almost red compared to her pale, transparent skin. Her eyes were closed, and strands of black hair clung to her forehead and the sides of her face like thin threads. Elafi took one of her wrists. It was cold. He felt for a pulse, and although it took him longer than he would have liked, he managed to detect a faint heartbeat. The girl was alive! But he suspected she wouldn't be for long if he didn't help her.

The teen noticed that there were traces of washed blood on the girl's stockings, caused by abrasion wounds that ran down her legs and arms. "Her wounds could get infected from the river water," Elafi thought.

"I need help!" he shouted into the forest. It wasn't long before a sweet, penetrating aroma reached his nose. Elafi stood up and quickly detected which trunk was dripping the golden sap. He took a tree leaf, and using it as a cup, filled his makeshift container with the healing sap. He then returned to the girl's side and carefully dropped the substance between her parted lips.

"Please work, please work," he said to himself. It wasn't long before the girl's wounds began to close and Elafi couldn't help but smile at the wonderful fact. "Thank you!" he shouted back into the forest.

Now that the girl was free from the danger of infection, he decided that he would carry her to the cabin. Warrick had taught him how to do the Fireman's carry, and today would be the time to put it into practice. He took the girl by the arms, trying not to shake her too much, and carried her on his shoulders. She was quite light.

Making sure that the girl was safe, Elafi began his trek back home.

~

Warrick returned to the cabin. He had in his pocket the payment for selling some hares and mushrooms to a friend in the mountains, and decided he would take Elafi out for burgers that weekend. Seeing the boy was gone, he assumed he was on another one of his walks in the woods. Warrick let him be, figuring he had to let him “strengthen his connection to nature” or whatever the hell Lupita told him. Magical and mystical stuff wasn’t his thing, but he wasn’t going to interfere or get in the way either. He just hoped the boy wouldn’t get into trouble.

He decided he would watch a movie. He pulled a can of beer out of the fridge and popped “Bambi” into the TV’s DVD player. He remembered Devin crying a lot the first time he saw that movie. Warrick always considered it too dark for little kids, even if its message was something he sympathized with. Still, he put it on just to make some noise, planning on falling asleep after the first ten minutes. However, his goal was cut short when he heard yells outside his cabin.

"Warrick!" 

The man jumped up on the couch, rushing to open the door.

"Elafi, what happened?!”

"Can you... help her?"”

Elafi stood outside, looking distressed. On his shoulders he carried a girl he had dragged out from who knew where, completely soaked and apparently unconscious. Warrick opened the door and allowed the boy to pass, indicating that he should put the girl down on the bed.

"Where did you find her?" the man asked.

"By the river. At first I was afraid she was dead, but she's alive and that's why I brought her."

Elafi spoke in a rush, as he fluttered around the bed, explaining how exactly he found her and how he had healed her wounds thanks to the golden healing sap of a tree.

"I'm glad to see that you're controlling your ability better," Warrick commented, with some pride.

The man checked the girl, taking her pulse again, checking her breathing and making sure she didn't have water in her lungs. She didn't look much older than Elafi. Warrick lifted one of her eyelids and was startled when he found a yellow eye with a thin vertical pupil.

"She's a chimera child," he said.

Elafi's ears perked up and his face lit up. He stared at the girl with wide eyes, as if he were suddenly admiring a star that had fallen from the sky. Sometimes Warrick forgot that Elafi had never seen another chimera child before.

"Her temperature is low, who knows how long she was in the water," Warrick said, getting to work. He removed the girl's heel and gloves, revealing a series of pearly scales on her skin. "Elafi, bring all the towels and sheets you can, the warmest ones you can find."

The boy left to follow the instruction and returned shortly after with several thick towels and sheets, and even a couple of his stuffed animals brought from his own room. They settled the girl on the bed and wrapped her up in such a way that she could dry off and warm up quickly.

Warrick was constantly thinking about where the girl might have come from: Had she been running away, like Elafi, and fallen into the river? Had someone tried to hurt her? Had she simply gotten lost? He figured he wouldn't know until the girl woke up.

They decided to take turns watching her. Elafi, being the most excited, asked to go first. While Warrick took care of the house and garden chores, Elafi stayed behind to watch the girl. He found the idea of ​​finally being able to meet another chimera child fascinating, even if it was under less than pleasant circumstances, and he wondered what kind of life this girl had: whether she had friends or a family. "We could be friends," he thought, somewhat embarrassed but touched by the idea.

At some point, the teen briefly got up to go to the bathroom; however, upon returning, he discovered that the bed was empty. He felt a knot in his stomach. He went out into the hallway, planning to call Warrick, when in the middle of the living room he ran into the girl.

She was awake and standing. Her clothes were no longer dripping with water and her hair had already begun to dry. Hearing a noise, she turned her head back and her two yellow eyes locked on Elafi. The boy couldn't help but feel a chill run down his spine at the sight of her, and he felt as if he had just run into the ghostly owner of the residence he had trespassed into.

"Hi," he said, "I'm glad you're better now."

The girl didn't respond. She kept her body rigid and tense. It seemed as if at any moment she would run away or crumble like a cracked statue.

"My name´s Elafi," the boy continued. “I found you on the riverbank and we brought you here to recover. Eh, what's your name?”

The girl still didn't answer, but her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, as if she was trying to remember something.

"Elafi, I'm done here."

Warrick appeared in the room. The girl, seeing him, jumped.

"Are you okay?" the man said, in a calm tone, as he took a step towards her.

The girl stepped back, letting out a hiss and opening her mouth in such a way that she showed a pair of fangs and a smooth, forked tongue.

Warrick raised both arms, showing his palms.

"I'm not going to hurt you, I don't want to. We just want to help."

"Please," Elafi added.

The girl touched her neck with her left hand, as if she was looking for something that wasn't there.

"Where... am I?" she said in a raspy voice.

"This is our house," Elafi explained. “It's a cabin in the woods, at the foot of the mountain. I found you by the river.”

At those words, a melancholic expression came over the girl's face, as if she had suddenly realized something. After a while, she walked with shuffling steps to where they were.

"I'm cold," she murmured.

"I'll make you a cup of hot chocolate," Warrick said.

While Warrick boiled the chocolate bar on the stove, Elafi and the girl sat around the dining table in an awkward silence. Elafi felt like he wanted to say or do something else, something to cheer her up, but he had no idea what to do. Luckily for him, it was she who broke the ice in the end.

"So... you live here?"

"Yes!" Elafi answered, with a smile.

"And that man..." she continued, whispering. "What is he to you?"

What was Warrick to him? It was a question Elafi had asked himself countless times. After a few moments he answered:

"He´s my caretaker. He saved my life when some evil people tried to hurt me just because I´m a chimera child. He's A good man, you can trust him."

The girl thought for a while, and finally her body seemed to relax a little.

"You said your name was Elafi, right? Nice to meet you. My name is Ofidia, but you can call me Fidi."

Next

Taglist: @scoundrelwithboba @morning-star-whump @lancedoncrimsonwings @3-2-whump @whumped-by-glitter @string-of-broken-hearts @alyscat @oddsconvert @what-if-i-just-did @bacillusinfection @writinglittlepains

Not much whump, but very important lore drops. OMG, the day these two meet finally arrived! From here the story starts to take a little different turn, preparing us for what will be the "final arc of the season." How exciting! I don't know if anyone else is excited, but I am and very much so, hehe. Many thanks to those who read! Here´s your little star ⭐

[backjustforberena]

I’m new to the fandom; I recently caught up on the first season and watched the second. I fell in love with Rhaenys as a character; I think she’s very strong and particularly cunning. However, one aspect I’ve noticed, which I realize isn’t a common opinion, is that her relationship with Corlys seems absolutely toxic to me but people celebrated it as a great love story.

I genuinely don’t understand why people consider this couple to be solid - and compare them to Ned and Cat, when I’ve always seen Rhaenys as very lonely, she can count only on her own strength. Corlys is portrayed as so ambitious that he doesn’t value what he has, including his wife and children, he takes them for granted and he's even ready to silence them or put them at risk solely for his own pride. It seems to me that Corlys is fine with his wife as long as she agrees with him, but as soon as Rhaenys has a different opinion, he leaves her alone. I think that Corlys was written like a husband that did love his wife in the past but now it's more like routine- she's my wife and that's all. Also, rationally, the only times he does something for her, it's always driven more by guilt or shame (left his family after Laena and Laenor died -> so he joins the war; Rhaenys told him that she's aware of his bastards -> he changes his ship) than by love, affection, or respect for her.

So, I’d like to know from you and those who support this couple, what makes you talk about "great love"? what is the thing you like so much? I'm genuinly curious and interested in reading different opinions on the topic.

I just want to have a look at the word "toxic" because, in my view, that's a rather serious accusation to link to a relationship, and one that I don't think this relationship meets. To me, and I only speak on my views and I do want to say that I have been fortunate enough to never have been in or witnessed a toxic relationship, the label of "toxic" is one of an extreme.

To me, it brings to mind abuse and the idea of being trapped and of a significant power imbalance in favour of one participant in the relationship: lack of support, jealousy, controlling behaviours, unhealthy communication and criticism, isolation, eroding of self-confidence, high stress levels, and behaviour veering into physical and mental abuse. There are no other red flags such as a large age gap, chronic infidelity, or fear of the other. Rhaenys and Corlys are not cowed or belittled by their partner. They've been allowed to thrive: they are bettered by one another.

Corlys and Rhaenys do not meet any of the behaviours that would label them as toxic. Rhaenys and Corlys are not scared of one another, they engage in meaningful discussions, and they've had (for the most part) a stable relationship and committed relationship for decades, and one built from the fact that they love each other. It wasn't a political match. It isn't a question of whether they love each other either: they do. There's no power imbalance and no controlling behaviour exhibited. No one behaves irrationally. They aren't violent with one another, they treat one another with respect and care, they don't even really raise their voice, even if they can be curt and terse with one another. They confide in one another as well. Other than the complicated issue of Alyn and Addam, they have no secrets.

I don't think they're toxic.

Are we shown moments of conflict? Yes. Of course we are. For the majority of the time, but that's because this is a show that (certainly in Season 1) jumps from conflict to conflict and, for the most part, shows the characters in extraordinary circumstances. They are under pressure.

We aren't shown, for example, the ten years between Episode 05 and 06, where, presumably, everything was hunky-dory: with Corlys and Rhaenys just chilling on Driftmark. Instead, we meet them when they are at their most vulnerable, after the loss of their daughter, when the realities of Rhaenyra and Laenor's sons are reaching boiling point. We do not see their "normal", except in short glimpses and what we can infer or when they are on the periphery of the conflict, such as. And we rarely see their informal as well, where they are allowed to show their unguarded feelings and domesticity, because so much of them is either in political situations and at court - but when they are alone, we do have that. We have handholding, proximity, acts of care and a wish for/to comfort. Kisses to hands, flirtation, affection.

We can view Rhaenys as lonely for a portion of the time because, for the last three episodes of Series 1, to a large extent, she is. She's been alone, he did "abandon" her. When he's with her and it's normal (such as the first half or so of Season 1) there's no sense that she's lonely at all, even if she does have moments alone.

But it was never about a lack of love or a lack of care for her. It was about Corlys's own grief, a war already brewing in the Stepstones and even his love for her having an impact - he thought he'd lost her. It's an immature, and (to her) hurtful thing to do but it is an extreme. It is something that happens because of copious pressure and large events that uproot that relationship. In deleted dialogue, we know, he couldn't bear to face her. And whilst we acknowledge that this happens, we also have to acknowledge that she understands and forgives him for it. She holds him accountable, and then they are a unit once again.

It's not all sunshine and roses as we continue into Season 2, because again, external pressures force them into places where they find it hard to be vulnerable with one another. It's a continuation of their individual character journeys, but it's never undermining the love they have for one another or how they wish they could be, if given the chance.

For me, I get the impression that they'd love nothing better than for no one to die, everyone to be healthy and they can stay in bed all the time, eating nice food. If that's the baseline, if that's what they want from life, then that's not toxic. That's showing love. If this war hadn't happened, they would have been absolutely fine. Things out of their control and their individual vulnerabilities and worries drive the conflict in Season 2: losing Luke, the succession, the war, Corlys healing, Rhaenys being here, there and everywhere. But that's not a failure in their marriage. Their marriage doesn't fail. It just becomes unsure ground for once.

I'm aware I'm rambling so I'll just go with bullet points for what you've said and answer with counter-points and if you've got anything else you'd like to follow up on, please do come back. I like answering stuff like this.

She can count only on her own strength -> We see multiple points at which Rhaenys and Corlys are shown as a unit and that they take comfort from each other. From Rhaenys's POV, Corlys is regularly an advocate for her, a source of company, someone who seeks to soothe her worries and makes her laugh and get out of her own head a bit. There is an upgrade in her confidence from how she is when having to deal with things alone vs how she is when she has her husband by her side. No less capable, but on a lot surer footing (particularly in S1E10. She can count on him (for the most part). And she does. And she likes to.

Corlys is portrayed as so ambitious that he doesn’t value what he has, including his wife and children, he takes them for granted and he's even ready to silence them or put them at risk solely for his own pride -> Corlys's ambition is absolutely his major flaw. He does view his ambition as very important, but it does come from a place of love. I don't see how he "takes them for granted", though I concede, certainly with his children, that he's not above using them politically. But this is, contextually, normal. All the fathers do it or concede to it. And it is done with Rhaenys's awareness and consent. What I find interesting, as well, is that Corlys's ambitions are as much fueled by his love and hopes for his family as his own self-interest. So much is about justice for Rhaenys and her claim, and restoring how things should have been for her. His surprise at her accusations in S1E07 wouldn't have worked without this conviction. But he never silences her. I am absolutely clear on this. He never silences her. If you have examples, I'd love to dissect them with you.

Corlys is fine with his wife as long as she agrees with him, but as soon as Rhaenys has a different opinion, he leaves her alone -> the only example I can think of where this happens is S1E07. And he retreats because he's hurt. Again, this is a massive extreme and I've spoken about the layers to this scene before but she's uprooted him. She's gone for where he's vulnerable at a time in which he's vulnerable in the efforts to have a conversation and so he leaves the room because he can't deal with that. That's a normal reaction. He leaves her by the fire. But that's not a red flag. That's not an overreaction on his part, it's just a reaction that hurts her. Just as she has reactions that hurt him. If there is another example which suggests a pattern of behaviour, let me know, because otherwise, I don't see it.

I think that Corlys was written like a husband that did love his wife in the past but now it's more like routine -> they are literally post-sex in S2E03.

The only times he does something for her, it's always driven more by guilt or shame (left his family after Laena and Laenor died -> so he joins the war; Rhaenys told him that she's aware of his bastards -> he changes his ship) than by love, affection, or respect for her -> I would say that's a massive oversimplification on your part and I don't agree with your logic there at all. I also think it does a disservice to Rhaenys. He joins the war not because he's rolling over to Rhaenys's whims and would have done so anyway - she has to convince him. He protests to start with. She has to lay out an argument and give him context of what's been going on. Is he more amenable because he feels like he's let Rhaenys down? Probably. But that doesn't mean he doesn't love her. It implies it, if anything. And Corlys doesn't change his ship because she's aware of his bastards. He does it because she died. Because he wants to honour her. If they'd never spoken on the subject at all, do you think he wouldn't have done what he did? I do. Not once, during his mourning, has he ever mentioned them parting on bad terms, has he ever spoken about her in relation to that subject, or implied that he is motivated by that one fact. It wasn't the last time they spoke or saw one another. There's the unsaid and the undone but that was always going to be the case because she died. He changed his ship because he wanted to honour her. Because he misses her. Because he loved her. Because he's doing this (being Hand, fighting this war) for her.

What I like about they find solace and love in each other. They can react against each other and have differing opinions from one another but that doesn't undermine the love they have for one another. They are flirty with each other, care for one another, and seek one another out. They trust one another, they seek to empower the other, they are a team and present a united front. They discuss things, they advocate for one another, they are both political powerhouses. They don't try and change the other, either, which is a big thing.

Corlys did his voyages to prove himself worthy of Rhaenys which is like the biggest romantic gesture I've ever heard of. Rhaenys adopted her marital house and fought for it like she was born to it. She ruled in Driftmark and he trusted her to do that, despite having brothers of an age to do so. The fact that rocky waters for their marriage is such a destabilisation for them shows how much they value the support they give each other. It's not perfect. It's obviously not. But it is worthy to ship them. And they do possess a "great love". Great doesn't mean perfect.

[yuzurujenn]

[2024.11.01] AERA x Yuzuru Hanyu Photobook "Gi" - Interview

[What Hanyu Yuzuru Was Thinking During the Aera Photoshoot]

—For this photoshoot, we changed the set and outfits, and shot in various different scenarios. During the shoot, music was always playing, and the moment you hear those songs, your expression and body immediately react. This left a deep impression on me.

I do react to music, yes. When I think about using this set, this outfit, and this makeup, I sometimes wonder, "Does this really suit the music being played?" So, sometimes I deliberately try not to match the music too much, while at other times, I think about how I can better match the music in certain moments. I was thinking about these kinds of questions during the shoot.

—If you were in a world without sound, how would you feel?

Well, even without sound, there are still unique expressions that can emerge from silence. I can still feel the atmosphere on set or think about what effect each set is trying to convey. I think, if there were no music, my expression might lean more in that direction, focusing more on the visual elements rather than sound.

[The Harmony of Heart, Skill, and Body] —In sports, it's often said that "heart, skill, and body" (Shin-Gi-Tai) are all important. Among these, I'd like to hear your thoughts on the "skill" aspect. When you hear the word "skill" in the context of "heart, skill, and body," what image comes to your mind first?

The image of "heart, skill, and body" in my mind is like a well-balanced triangle. Ultimately, when we focus on "skill," we realize that both "heart" and "body" are involved. So even when we isolate "skill," it cannot fully capture the essence of what skill truly is... So, if asked, "What is skill?" I think it is both "heart" and "body." They are not separate; they are always interconnected. Hmm... For example, if we take a jump as an example, without the physical strength and muscle power to support it, or without enough mental strength, it just won't work. It’s difficult to isolate "skill" and discuss it alone.

[The "True Essence" in Every Field] —Over the past year, as a skater, have you experienced any internal changes regarding your technique as you've refined your skills?

I feel like I’ve been spending more time thinking about "performance." Even in daily life, I’m constantly thinking about it. My way of thinking about my skating, and my thoughts on each of the programs, have clearly deepened.

—Where do you think this change comes from?

When creating new ice performances like "RE_PRAY" after "GIFT," and when working with my own performances, I began thinking more deeply about what I need—essentially, "What kind of technique do I need to achieve this kind of effect?" I must carry these deeper thoughts into my daily life. Until now, in my skating career, I’ve never really studied ballet or dance seriously. I’ve just been imitating and copying the moves of the choreographers. That’s how I’ve come this far. So, I feel that my foundation isn't solid, or rather, I don’t have a specific level of technical skill—I've just been copying what I see. But now, I’m starting to observe the movements of true experts in those fields, and I’m thinking about whether I should move like this, or like that. I am learning from them.

—After two years as a professional athlete, what has changed significantly for you compared to when you were an elite competitive skater?

Before transitioning, I was very much confined by figure skating, and most of my time was spent thinking about my figure skating performances. But now, during the creative process, I’ve gradually become clearer about the idea that "this is something I can achieve through figure skating, but that I can’t." So now, I’m actively learning how to use my arms and body in different ways.

[The Importance Beyond Jumps] —In a previous interview, you mentioned that "your abilities haven’t caught up to what you want to do."

That’s exactly why I feel I need to keep learning! When we think about technique, our minds tend to get drawn to jumps, but the technique beyond jumping is also very important. In fact, if the techniques outside of jumping aren’t solid, many aspects will look messy. From this perspective, simply saying "I managed to land the jump" is far from enough.

—From my outsider's perspective, it seems like your technique has evolved and become deeper than before. But from your own perspective, is it really that simple?

I do believe I am evolving. I’m definitely skating better. But it’s still far from enough. Because I keep delving deeper into it, my ideals are constantly growing, and the specificity of what I want to express is constantly increasing. The more concrete my ideals become, the more I realize the small deficiencies in my movements—like the subtle imperfections in my body language. I start noticing things like the angle of my hand being off by about 5 centimetres, the direction my body is facing, the position of my face, the direction of my gaze, even the way I breathe. While others may not notice these details, it's these small things, which I’ve neglected until now, that make me painfully aware of my lack of skill.

—Don’t you find it exhausting to keep striving every day for a better performance or for your ideals?

If every day were easy, I probably wouldn’t have any confidence for the rest of my life. It’s precisely because I push myself hard every single day, working tirelessly even through extremely tough days, constantly researching and refining, that I’ve been able to gain a bit of confidence. But that confidence isn’t "I can definitely do it, so I don’t have to worry." It’s more like, I know how to execute a certain performance or technique, and because I know what to do and actually do it, I gain that kind of confidence.

—This photobook is being released in early autumn. How do you plan to spend this time?

Right now, I have something I’m planning, and I think I’ll definitely be putting in effort toward it. At that time, I’ll probably be thinking about how I want to skate better than I do now, and most likely, every day I’ll be thinking "I just want to give up," or "I want to run away..." But… how should I put it, in the end, I never really ran away, and I kept pushing myself, didn’t I?

Source: https://weibo.com/6473801248/OFlBmeYol https://weibo.com/6473801248/OFBKdyEV0 Info: https://www.amazon.co.jp/dp/4023323756

[shesthenurseondutyy]

HOW TO SURVIVE NURSING SCHOOL: YOUR ULTIMATE GUIDE 🎀✨

Hi! THE NURSE IS IN! 👩‍⚕️

Helloo! So, you've finally decided to jump into the Nursing School. Now, let me help you survive this whole new journey! Remember this tips to survive the student nurse life!

1. Study Smart, Not Hard 📚

Nursing school isn’t about cramming until your brain turns to mush. It’s about being strategic. Use active recall, make flashcards, and study with a group. Trust me, you won’t remember half the textbook by the time the exam rolls around, but you’ll definitely remember the stuff you’ve repeatedly tested yourself on. Pro tip: YouTube and apps like Quizlet are your BFFs.

2. Your Clinicals Are a Real-World Survival Test 🏥

Clinical rotations will be intense. You’ll go from zero to hero, and in the beginning, it might feel like you have no idea what’s going on. But here’s the thing—clinicals are where the magic happens. Embrace the nerves, ask questions, and don’t be afraid to make mistakes. Your instructors are there to guide you, and your patients? They’ll appreciate your dedication. Just keep calm and carry on.

3. Organize Everything 🗂️

You’re juggling a lot in nursing school, so keeping everything organized is key. From assignments to study schedules to clinical hours—get yourself a planner or a digital calendar, and keep track of everything. You’ll thank yourself later when you’re not scrambling to find that one assignment due at midnight.

4. Time Management is Crucial ⏰

You’re going to be balancing a million things at once: classes, studying, clinicals, maybe even a part-time job or social life (let’s be real, social life may need to take a back seat). So, managing your time is everything. Make a weekly schedule that prioritizes study time, rest, and yes, even a little fun. You’re going to need it to stay sane.

5. Take Care of Yourself (Seriously) 💖

It’s easy to get wrapped up in all the studying and clinicals and forget about your own health. But remember, you can’t pour from an empty cup. Make sure you’re eating right, getting enough sleep, and squeezing in some exercise (even if it’s just a walk). Mental health is just as important as physical health. Find a way to relax—whether it’s yoga, journaling, or binge-watching your favorite show.

6. Ask for Help When You Need It 🤝

No one expects you to do this alone. If you’re struggling with a concept, don’t be afraid to ask your professors, classmates, or even a mentor for help. Nursing school is tough, but you don’t have to go through it in isolation. People are there to help, and you should take advantage of it.

7. Learn to Love the Study Group 📚👯‍♀️

Study groups are your secret weapon. Find a group of people who are as dedicated as you are, and use each other’s strengths. One person may be great at pharmacology, another at anatomy—teamwork makes the dream work. Plus, studying with others is a great way to make sure you’re not just memorizing facts but really understanding the material.

8. Get Comfortable with Being Uncomfortable 😬

You’re going to make mistakes. You’re going to feel like you don’t know enough. And you’re going to have those moments when you wonder, “Am I cut out for this?” But here’s the thing—those uncomfortable moments? They’re part of the process. Nursing school isn’t about being perfect; it’s about learning, growing, and becoming the nurse you’re meant to be. So, embrace the discomfort and keep pushing forward.

9. Celebrate the Small Wins 🎉

Nursing school is a marathon, not a sprint. And sometimes, it feels like the finish line is a million miles away. But remember, every small step counts. Finished that tough exam? Celebrate. Got through a challenging clinical day? Celebrate. Passed that skills test? Definitely celebrate. These small wins are what will keep you going, so don’t forget to acknowledge your hard work along the way.

BONUS: Stay Connected with Your ‘Why’ 💭

Nursing school can be overwhelming, and it’s easy to lose sight of why you started this journey. When the going gets tough, reconnect with your “why”—whether it’s helping people, making a difference in someone’s life, or becoming a badass nurse. Your purpose will be the fuel you need to keep going.

In Conclusion: You Got This!

Nursing school is tough, no doubt about it. But with the right mindset, some solid study habits, and a lot of self-care, you’ll make it. Keep your eyes on the prize, take things one step at a time, and remember—you’re already a hero in the making.

So study hard, take care of yourself, and get ready to change the world. You’ve got this, future nurse superstar! 🙌💙

[batsplat]

As a racer, mental strength is just as, if not more important than physical strength. During my absence in 2009 my place on the factory bike was taken by Mika Kallio, my former 125cc teammate at KTM. Mika had come into MotoGP that year on a satellite Ducati with the Pramac team and had some reasonable results, so I guess he thought that jumping on my bike was going to be a huge step up. Unfortunately for him he found out it was exactly the same, so he went from thinking he was doing a decent job on an average bike to realising that I was winning races on the same package. I don’t know Mika well personally so I can’t say for sure but to me that experience seemed to set in motion quite a dramatic decline over the next couple of years and his career went backwards.

casey about mika kallio in 'pushing the limits'

this 100% unnecessary drive-by shooting (incidentally the only time kallio gets mentioned in the entire autobiography) somehow becomes even more grating when you put it back into the context of the chapter

Anthony Peden: ‘Casey is an amazingly focused and driven individual, without question one of the hardest-working athletes I have had the pleasure to work with; however, his strengths don’t stop there. His ability to focus and turn adversity into results while pushing well past limits still amazes me. It takes more to be a champion than to just be fast and Casey has proven what a champion he is time and time again.' As a racer, mental strength is just as, if not more important than physical strength. During my absence in 2009 my place on the factory bike was taken by Mika Kallio, my former 125cc teammate at KTM. Mika had come into MotoGP that year on a satellite Ducati with the Pramac team and had some reasonable results, so I guess he thought that jumping on my bike was going to be a huge step up. Unfortunately for him he found out it was exactly the same, so he went from thinking he was doing a decent job on an average bike to realising that I was winning races on the same package. I don’t know Mika well personally so I can’t say for sure but to me that experience seemed to set in motion quite a dramatic decline over the next couple of years and his career went backwards. Livio once said to me that when a rider is not having success they have to find an excuse because the alternative is to accept they are not good enough. If they do that then it is hard to find the motivation to keep digging. Why even bother to keep on racing if you know you can’t win? He says riders always have to have that in them. I find a lot of truth in that, but personally I also think it is a weakness. If a rider truly believes that the bike is the problem and not them, this gives them confidence to keep going. But I have never needed that confidence because my approach is to adapt myself if necessary. I have no problem admitting if it is me who needs to be faster. If the bike had problems I tried to ride around them, not point them out and use them as an excuse.

so it's just like. in this section where casey is talking about the importance of mental strength and is including other people glazing him for his champion's mentality. and then casey is randomly bringing up this poor rider who got to spend three races on a factory bike and... maybe he DID say something about casey, but from interview quotes at the time really did just seem to be excited for this opportunity. so casey is making up a guy in his head who was confident he'd be able to replicate casey's results if only he had the same machinery, SAYS he doesn't know kallio that well before wildly speculating that THIS three race stretch caused a terminal downward spiral in his career (which, looking at said career... I mean. did it?) because it made kallio?? realise his inadequacy compared to casey ig?? and THEN uses THAT as the jumping off point to explain why his own mentality is superior because he doesn't delude himself into thinking he's better than he is. which! okay! and unless casey really does have a score to settle we're unaware of, I'm sure he doesn't think he's insulting kallio here!! but it's just so SMUG he's so SMUG and self-satisfied and making the case that Nobody Knew How Good He Really Was and it's just so.... what a dickhead!! he is so dear to me