#i need to like exercise my hands tho

[tealfruit]

when is it ok to call myself an amateur guitarist

[daz4i]

in my "one more inconvenience and i sincerely think i won't be able to stop myself from physically assaulting someone" era

[eorzeanflowers]

it’s late night, so it’s time to think irrationally again

[writingouthere]

singlemom!reader x neighbor!sukuna. you miss having a baby and Sukuna is dying from a combination of your sexual tension, his lowkey(highkey) baby fever and the drudgery of attending a child's birthday party

cw: Sukuna's breeding kink, red flags are present and accounted for, no one gets laid tho so sad face. this actually ended up being way more sincere and heartfelt than I intended but honestly very typical of me

"Oh we're not together, Sukuna's just been letting me and Bug crash while we look for an apartment."

"Oh he's not my boyfriend, we're just friends!"

"He's actually not Bug's dad. No, no. But, they get along really well. She enjoys having someone else to hang out with aside from me, I think."

Your laughter after the last one plays on repeat as he goes to grab the two of you some refreshments. Sukuna feels like he's living the world's worst version of groundhog day, except instead of being some sad loser who relives the same day over and over, he's apparently a sad loser who is going to live the same conversation over and over again.

"Fuck this shit."

"Um, excuse me but could you watch your language. This is a kid's birthday party." Sukuna wants to ask the bitch who is correcting a grown man's language if he would mind watching his own fucking business but you seem to care about what these losers think and he won't make life difficult for you.

If he happens to step on the guy's foot as he leaves with two cups and a juice box caught in his elbow, well, his steel toed boots need the exercise.

Sukuna knew that if any of his acquaintances, he didn't have friends after all, could see him now, they would die laughing. Die ,because he would kill them for laughing, but fuck he couldn't even really blame them, even in his hypothetical.

Once upon a time, Sukuna was a feared criminal. People pissed themselves when he cornered them in a dark alley. Other bad guys would look at him and say, "wow that guy's a real piece of shit" and now look at him. Stuck at some three year old's birthday party. One more kidzpop butchering of an already shitty song away from committing another felony.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he knew he was at least getting some pussy out of it, but he had just spent the past two hours hearing you deny him to anyone who asked and it was really starting to get to him.

He knew he was being a little bitch about it, and he wasn't upset just because you weren't fucking him. He was upset that all the things you were telling people, they were technically true. He was just letting you and your daughter crash. He was just your friend, not your boyfriend. Even the comments about him not being Bug's dad, but him being positioned as some kind of really invested babysitter, those might have stung more than the ones about your relationship but you thought that was true too.

Thinking about the kid made him look for her, not that Sukuna ever wasn't aware of where you and your daughter were. It had become instinct before he was even aware of it.

Bug was laughing with some kids he recognized from daycare and others from their regular trips to the park. Her happiness was contagious and Sukuna found his lips twitching up at the ends despite his shitty mood.

Your daughter's eyes found him from across the playground. "kuna!" she called, waving her little hand at him. He waved back with his available hand and made his way towards her. She met him halfway, her little legs unsteady on the wood chips but she didn't seem to notice. She was always like that when she saw him, she ran fearlessly. Maybe she just trusted he'd catch her.

Was it so wrong of him that he didn't like the reminders she wasn't his. That it stung, not just because of his feelings but because it just couldn't be true. He might not have fathered her, but fuck anyone who said this little girl wasn't his.

"I got you a juice, you've been running around so much you gotta be thirsty."

"Not thirsty," Bug argued leaning into him. He held up his hands that were holding the grown up drinks for the two of you, and moved the package still lodged in the crease of his elbow towards the petulant toddler. "Take it, or I'll drink it."

Bug stuck her tongue out at him and grabbed it. She struggled to get the wrapping off the straw and Sukuna didn't even notice what he was doing until she had the straw stretched out towards him and he was pulling the wrapper off with his teeth. He spit it out on the ground as your daughter gave him a polite thank-you and then walked away, sipping her juice as she went to catch up with her friends.

What had become of him?

"Need a hand?" You smile at him and Sukuna hands over your cup before taking a sip of his own. There was unfortunately no alcohol in it but drinking it occupied his mouth before he acted like a pussy and asked you, "what are we?" or "should we get married?" or something equally as pathetic.

"God, I want a baby."

Sukuna almost spit out his drink but he manages to tone it down to just a little cough before turning to look at you. You don't even seem a little embarrassed which is just infuriating. Sukuna's about to make a suggestion on how he can help with that when you sigh and point to where some loser is holding their ugly baby.

"Aren't babies just the cutest, I miss when Bug was that age."

Oh, so this was just you looking at other people's red-faced brats and feeling nostalgic and was not in fact a call to action. Sukuna rolled his eyes and leaned back on the hand closest to you so he didn't touch you as he was so tempted to do these days.

"That baby, like all babies, is hideous. All they do is cry, shit themselves and vomit and I'm not even sure Bug is the exception to that and she's the best kid there is."

You look touched at his affection for your daughter but also fired up on behalf of babies everywhere.

"You can't just say a baby is hideous, Sukuna. Those are the Zenin's. Bug is friends with some of them."

"Well are the older ones cuter, because that baby looks like someone fucked one of those hairless cats."

"Sukuna!" you hiss but he sees you smile, despite yourself. "Okay, maybe that baby isn't like the cutest baby-"

"Hideous."

You continue after smacking his arm. "But Bug was cute, okay. And I'm not just saying that because I'm her mom." You take out your phone and quickly swipe until you get to what you're looking for. "See, cute baby."

Sukuna grabs your phone and looks. It's not the first picture he's seen of a young Bug and he's taken his share of photos of her himself, but he finds himself taken in by it anyway.

It has to be a picture from when Bug was really young, she still had the scrunched up, red face that he associates with newborns. But he thinks you're right, she's still cute. He doesn't know if it's because he knows that baby will grow up to be your daughter, but he finds his thumb caressing her little baby cheeks, the wisps of hair he can see peaking out from where she's wrapped in a baby blanket. It's then he sees she's not alone in the picture and there's a different version of you holding her.

The thing that stands out to him is how tired you look. He thinks this couldn't have been too long after you gave birth but still, he wondered if you'd gotten any rest those first few months. You still didn't like talking about your ex, or the circumstances that had led you to his apartment, but Sukuna knew that chances are you were taking care of Bug single handedly and that couldn't have been easy, cutest kid or not.

"She was beautiful, she still is." He reluctantly hands the phone back to you and you look at the picture again, tears building up in your eyes.

"She is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I-I wish that the circumstances were different in how I got her. Sometimes, I wonder how I'll explain everything to her when she's older. She just deserves so much better than him, you know?"

"You both do." Sukuna reaches over and brushes away one of the tears that had managed to fall down your cheek. He leaves his hand there a moment, holding your cheek in his palm, just appreciating the warmth.

"Do you want any?"

"What?" Sukuna isn't sure what you're talking about anymore. He can only see your lips right in front of him, the way that your eyelashes brush against your cheek as you blink faster and faster.

"Babies, do you want any?"

Something short circuits in Sukuna's brain and he wants to say, fuck yes.

He wants to tell you that he thinks about it every day. Every time you put Bug on your hip or send him youtube videos of hairstyles you want to try on her. Whenever it's late at night, and little feet pad out of your room and Bug asks him in the loudest whisper he's ever heard, if he can get her some water because she's so thirsty.

He thinks about it when the sun streams through the curtains of his apartment in the morning and it lights up your hair as you move throughout the kitchen, a force of nature, a creature from somewhere far too good to have ended up here with him.

He thinks about it when the three of you go out and people just assume you're a family, because of course you're a family. When you and Bug play some made up game, or Bug gets tired even though she denies it and he carries her sleeping form against his chest. When he holds her in his lap on the subway and you lean to rest your head on his shoulder and he feels like this, this is what he's always wanted.

He's not all pure and good though, because he thinks about it late at night in his bedroom too. After a day of your smiles, of seeing your thighs stretch out of those sleep shorts you started wearing when the weather warmed up, whenever he remembers the feel and smell of your panties when he's lucky enough to find a pair in the laundry basket, he thinks about how the two of you would make some really cute fucking babies.

He's imagined it a million ways. He's imagined you telling him you've gone off your birth control and you need him now after he takes you out on an anniversary dinner. Or him crowding you up against the kitchen counter and you begging him to put a baby in you.

His favorite fantasy is currently one where you get so carried away when you finally finally fuck that you don't ask him to wear a condom and he spends the whole night making sure you're nice and good and full of him and when you tell him a few weeks later you missed your period, he'll let you freak out. But then he'll tell you that he'll take good care of you, and Bug, and your soon to be little one and he'll finally have you, all of you and once you have your second, he'll knock you up again, as many times as he can because there could never be too many mini-you's running around.

At this point, Sukuna remembers he's talking to you, the real you and he swallows a few times before he speaks.

"I do," he says simply but something must show on his face because you're looking at him in a way you never have before. He hears your breath hitch and he leans in to kiss you, and you smell so good and his thoughts are consumed by the little family he just knows you're going to have when suddenly he's pelted by a variety of sharp, little objects.

Sukuna immediately holds up his arm to shield you from what he now sees is a barrage of wood chips which are being thrown at you by an army of toddlers, including your daughter.

You immediately get up and start talking to the kids about the danger of throwing what are basically large future splinters at people's faces and Sukuna is contemplating the murder of every child that isn't his own when you turn to look at him.

You're not just looking at him, you're seeing him and oh. Maybe he would be getting laid tonight, after all.

The slow burn is almost done folks.

thank you to the amazing reception to this series and the one-shot I posted(which there will be a prequel of soon!). it's literally so insane. Masterlist will be up tomorrow which I hope helps with accessibility!

edit: masterlist is up!

[yumenosakiacademy]

u kno how sometimes ppl will do things longterm 4 bragging rights. like "i avoided sweets for 2 weeks straight!" or "i wrote a poem everyday 4 a month!" n stuff like tht. imagine ur brain forcing u in2 drastic "4 the bragging rights" situations w the dumbest or most extreme conditions n u quite literally cant break out of the cycle w/o feeling distress. :I

[eyes1nthewoods]

god pet food smells so fucking good

[isaadore]

STITCHES QUINN HUGHES

pairing quinn hughes x doctor!reader

SUMMARY when quinn suffers a shoulder injury, he’s forced to work with you. word count 1.2k words

warnings mentions of injury and physical pain, workplace romance, teasing, forced proximity (?), fluff

note first quinn fic in a while!! (even tho it's a bit on the shorter side 😞) missed writing for him

MAIN MASTERLIST QH43 MASTERLIST

THE CROWD CHEERED as the Canucks’ focused, ready to take back the lead. You watched from the medical bay, eyes following the puck and scanning for any signs of injury. As the new head of the medical team, this season was a make-or-break for you, and you knew you had to prove yourself capable of handling any situation under pressure.

Then, it happened.

A bone-jarring hit echoed through the rink. Your eyes shot up to the screen just in time to see Quinn Hughes take a brutal check into the boards, twisting in a way that made your stomach lurch. He went down hard, clutching his shoulder. The team’s medical staff rushed onto the ice and helped him off, and a few moments later, he was hobbling into the treatment room, face pale and pained, still gripping his shoulder.

He sat down, wincing as he did so, and looked up, his blue eyes meeting yours. He offered a slight nod, even managing a tight smile. “Guess it was just a matter of time, huh?”

You returned his smile, feeling sympathetic. “Seems like it, but let’s see what’s going on.”

You placed an ice pack over his shoulder, trying to ease some of the swelling. “I’ll start with a few checks to see what kind of injury we’re dealing with. Let me know if it hurts too much.”

He gave a small nod. “I’m tougher than I look.”

Carefully, you guided his arm, checking his shoulder’s movement. He was trying to play it off, but you could see his face tighten in pain. “Quinn, don’t push through it,” you said gently but firmly. “If it hurts, I need to know.”

He let out a shaky breath. “All right… yeah, it hurts a lot more than I thought it would.”

“Thank you for being honest,” you replied, moving his arm back to a resting position. “For now, let’s get a scan to see what’s really going on. My guess is you’ll need some time off the ice to heal, maybe a few weeks.”

His expression fell, and he let out a quiet sigh, his gaze dropping to the floor. “That long?”

You nodded, keeping your tone reassuring. “It’s tough, but this is about protecting your long-term health. We’ll take it step by step.”

He nodded, visibly frustrated. “Can’t say I’m thrilled, but I guess I don’t have much of a choice.”

The next morning, Quinn showed up for his first official rehab session. He wore a hoodie, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his posture closed off and frustrated. You recognized the look; a mix of vulnerability and irritation. Being benched was the last thing any player wanted.

“Ready to get started?” you asked, offering a gentle smile.

He shrugged, though his attempt to hide his irritation was clear. “I don’t know if I’d say ready, but I’m here.”

You chuckled, leading him through an outline of the exercises. “Today’s going to be mostly small movement work. It might seem light, but this is where it all begins.”

You guided him through gentle exercises, keeping it easy to help him regain strength in his shoulder. He followed along, sometimes gritting his teeth when it hurt, and you noticed him stealing glances your way when he thought you weren’t looking. He’d fidget whenever your hands brushed his shoulder or arm, you could see he trying to distract himself from the pain.

After the session, you began to reorganize the room. He leaned against a table, watching you. “So, how’d you end up working with a bunch of stubborn hockey players?”

You laughed, glancing at him. “Guess I like a challenge.”

He grinned, looking amused. “Well, you found one. We’re all terrible patients.”

“I’m beginning to see that,” you teased, crossing your arms as you met his gaze. “But I don’t mind it.”

Over the following weeks, Quinn’s rehab sessions became a regular part of your day. You fell into a rhythm together, moving through the exercises, slowly adding tougher movements as his shoulder improved. Sometimes you talked about nothing in particular, just enjoying each other’s company. He’d walk in a little more relaxed each day, his mood visibly lifting.

One morning, after a particularly tough session, he sat back, wiping sweat from his brow. “I don’t know how you put up with me,” he said, half-joking. “I’m probably driving you nuts.”

You leaned against the table beside him, crossing your arms. “Honestly? You’re one of my better patients. Some guys complain non-stop.”

“Guess I’m saving that part for later,” he replied, smirking. Then he paused, his smile fading a bit. “But seriously… thank you. You make this bearable.”

Your gaze softened. “I’m glad to hear that. It’s hard to be off the ice, but I’m here for you. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you. “I can tell you actually mean that.” His voice was quiet, almost as if he were afraid of ruining the moment. “Most people just want to get us back on the ice as fast as possible for the pay. But you’re different.”

Your cheeks warmed at the sincerity in his words. “I care about what I do. And it’s easy to care for passionate people.”

His expression softened, and he looked at you, something in his gaze you couldn’t quite place. “Maybe you can remind me next time I’m feeling sorry for myself.”

“Deal,” you replied, smiling. “But you owe me for all this extra therapy.”

He raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk appearing on his face. “Are you saying I’m high maintenance?”

“I’m saying that you’re lucky I’m patient,” you shot back, feeling a strange, excited flutter in your chest. His playful expression softened, and his eyes focused intently on you.

“I’ll remember that,” he said quietly, his gaze holding yours a little longer than necessary.

One evening, after the facility had mostly emptied, you were finishing up some paperwork when you heard footsteps approaching. You looked up, surprised to see Quinn lingering in the doorway, looking as though he’d been debating whether or not to come in.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you said, setting down your pen.

“Didn’t expect you to be here this late either,” he replied, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Do you ever stop working?”

You smiled. “Not when I’m invested in a patient’s progress. And you, Quinn, are making a lot of progress.”

He stepped further into the room, a hesitant smile on his face. “That’s good to hear. And I guess part of me wanted to say thanks. For everything.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’ve already thanked me a hundred times.”

“I know. But…” He looked down, gathering his thoughts. “This isn’t easy for me. Not being on the ice, not doing what I love. But you make it easier.”

The air felt thick, and his gaze met yours, soft and vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before. You felt your pulse quicken, and before you could stop yourself, you said, “Maybe when you’re cleared, we can celebrate with a coffee; you owe me after all.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, but it quickly melted into a warm smile. “I’d like that. More than you know.”

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ MAIN MASTERLIST ✷ QH43 MASTERLIST

[sataron]

my take at their humanization . hi aqua teen tumblr fandom 👋

okay so, i have a lot of things to say about what I've observed while i was lurking in the athf tag

1. you guys are way too horny about that damn milkshake and i do not like that . there's nothing sexy about an incel idk what are you guys on about i need to kill all of u for real . you know what . I'll start a shake simps hunting, i need to exterminate all of them . 500k chilean pesos for their heads , 200k for their tongues and fingers (so they cant draw him as a little twinky bitch or a buffy daddy bear panting and sweaty anymore)

2. and to follow up with previous point , YOU GUYS ARE NOT HORNY ENOUGH ABOUT FRYLOCK . i also do not like that . change it . right now

3. the majority of u are really scared to draw human meatwad as how jod intended; a fat ball of meat . good thing i ain't no pussy and came here to spread the word ... DRAW MEATWAD FATTER please 🩷

i am honestly not so satisfied with frylock's && shake's designs, they were the most difficult ones , meatwad took me like 10 minutes in total , i love him for that.. fry and shake might change as i draw them more prolly hmm we'll see . this was a good exercise tho, lineart came out so delicious i cant believe i did it with my very own hand, also the poses? YUM?? artstyle? omg im sucking my own dick . i need to practice designing more tho, i hate having to choose color palettes for characters that shit is so hard for me & u can tell here 🫤

dats all , i loev yuo guyz besos en la cola 💋

[purplestars222]

Period comfort with hazbin characters

ft alastor, lucifer, fallen!adam and husk

gn afab reader! no y/n used, and you arent in a relationship with alastor, just besties <3 all the other boys have a crush on you.

there will be more parts, may not be period comfort tho, just more hazbin/helluva characters comforting the reader while theyre sick

cw: mentions of period sex, adam is chubby, slight ooc

mdni please<3

Alastor

The smell of blood draws alastor to your room, hes a little worried that you're hurt, but its nothing he cant fix. As he enters your room, and sees you curled up in the fetal position he goes and sits next to you

"Darling, whats the matter? It's a wonderful day and you're spending it in bed! I believe Charlie is baking cookies! You-"

"go away alastor. i'm on my period."

"Well why didnt you say so!"

Alastor disappears into his shadow, and returns a few minutes later with a hot water bottle, a bottle of cold water, some pain meds and dark chocolate. He throws the items on your bed and smiles at you expectingly. You shoot him back a smile of appreciation. Even tho alastor and you had your moments, he's still a good friend when he needs to be.

Lucifer

Lucifer has a crush on you, and its no secret either. Every day he sits next to you during breakfast, he always makes sure you eat enough. He always does Charlie's silly little trust exercises with you, just being in your vicinity makes him happy. When you dont come down for breakfast, he gets worried, he made your favourite for you- pancakes! He decides to take some to your room. When he enters, and sees you curled up on the bed, he sits the tray of pancakes on your bedside table and sits next to you

"Hey, you didnt come down for breakfast, are you okay??"

you shake your head no, and he seems really concerned. He hates seeing you in pain, its horrible. Suddenly he remembers something- lillith acted like this when she first came to hell, periods. In the garden of eden, lilliths periods didnt hurt her, but as soon as she came to hell, it felt like her uterus was stabbing her, luckily luci fixed it

"Can i help?"

You stare up at him, eyes slightly watering from the pain and nod your head, anything to get rid of this. Luci carefully peels back your blanket and rests his hands on your groin, you shiver at the feeling of his warm hands, its nice. Theres a bright glow of golden light, and suddenly, the pains gone, the period pain at least, you still have a headache, and you're still pretty exhausted. You pull luci into a hug, he hugs back, giving you a kiss on the head

"Want me to run you a bath, sweetheart?"

"Yes please"

Lucifer hops up and heads into your ensuite, he starts a bath, making sure to get some really nice smelling soap and bath salts. He puts some rose petals in the tub to make it look pretty, and a couple of rubber duckies. Lucifer cares so much, hes so sweet.

Adam

Adam doesn't really understand the whole 'periods thing'. They didn't have them in heaven, so he doesn't really know what to do when you wake up grabbing your stomach. He pulls out his phone and decides to have a look online to see if there's anything he can get that will help, theres products from the vee's, but he doesnt trust those fuckers. He scrolls across an article that says orgasms can help with period cramps. When adam first shoots the idea at you, you're hesitant, period sex isnt something you've done before, and it seems a little scary, but you let him. He puts a towel under the both of you, and he makes sure that you 100% wanna do this before he gets started. When you guys have done, your pains are pretty much gone. he pulls you on top of him and you just lay there for awhile, enjoying the warmth from adams soft belly <3

Husk

Husk isn't too educated with this stuff either, but he knows how to take care of someone when they're sick. He doesn't realise you have your period at first, he just thinks it's a stomach bug. He gets you some chicken noodle soup and a few painkillers, when you explain to him that you have no appetite because of how bad the pain is, it suddenly clicks in his brain what's happening. He gives you a small kiss on the forehead, then walks out. He goes to charlie asking for help, she gathers together a basket full of snacks, pads, tampons, a menstrual cup, period underwear, hot water bottle with a cute cat cover and some noise cancelling headphones, in case things get overwhelming. Husk brings it back to you and lets you snuggle into him, something he doesn't allow very often. You spend the next few days cuddled up in bed, playing with husks ears watching movies. He helps you when you need to shower, and also keeps your hot water bottle hot. he just really enjoys taking care of you, not that he'd admit that

[netegf]

Hey can i make a blurb request for neteyam? maybe forced proximity trope where they get locked in the lab accident and Neteyam gets anxious bc he hates humans and reader smooches him to calm him down even tho they’re just friends (but they secretly love eachother ofc)

breathing exercise

pairing: neteyam x reader

“Neteyam, please stop picking your fingernails.”

Under shoddy lab fluorescents that make your eyes burn, Neteyam shifts in his position on the countertop, crossing his arms with a passive, but lazy, glare.

“You put us in this mess.” He replies pointedly. “You don’t get to tell me how to deal with it.”

That stings. But you wedge your bottom lip between your teeth, deciding maybe, just maybe, it was deserved.

In fairness, you should have left when Neteyam wanted to. But there was something about the way he looked under the blue lights – so pretty. And surrounding. Like his skin had no ending. It was something you wanted to commit to memory, and the extra couple minutes you’d coaxed out of him felt worth it in the moment.

But that quickly changed when the grimace set on Neteyam’s lips.

When Norm said that everything needed to be sterile. That no one could come in or out because of maintenance on the link units. That Neteyam would be trapped here, in a place that made his skin crawl, all evening.

“Teyam…” you trail off, peering up to meet his eyes which now soften at your dejected tone. “It was an accident. I’m sorry.”

At that, the rigidness of his spine seems to crumble.

His hard expression morphs into a pout and he outstretches a shaky hand to squeeze your own in a silent gesture of reconciliation. Still, the tension between his eyebrows remains.

“I told my dad I’d meet him ten minutes ago. He’s going to be pissed.” Sighing, he runs his slender fingers through his braids and attempts to keep his attention away from the bustling laboratory behind him.

The problem is... it’s not working very well. His breathing is uneven. His knee keeps bouncing up and down. His eyes are glued down at his thigh where your hands are joined.

“He will understand.” You reassure, but he doesn’t seem quite convinced, eyes still screwed tightly shut. “Stay calm, Neteyam. We’re gonna get out of here soon."

“I am calm!”

Now, you stare at him pointedly, and Neteyam slumps his shoulders sheepishly, flashing an apologetic smile. “Okay… maybe I’m not.”

Taking in the appearance of the scared and comically large warrior in front of you, a small smirk sparks like a conductor on your lips. You unwind your hand from his and grip the sides of his chin, drawing your warm faces closer together.

“We just need to find you a way to relax.”

“Mhm.” Yellow eyes travel down your face, stopping abruptly at the curve of your lips. “And how’s that?”

When your mouth collides onto his own, moving with fervor and electricity, he assumes the question must have been rhetorical. The burning kisses breathe new life into him – hands shoot up from his lap and find their rightful places, cradling your cheek and stroking your hair.

“How are we feeling?” You ask cheekily after pulling apart, mouth still hovering over his. So close, but not nearly enough.  

“Distressed. Very.” He has a stupid smile, laboured breaths catching hard in his chest. “Probably need more... of that.”

Then his lips are learning the shape of yours – kissing again, and again, and again. Chasing the air that calms him like it comes from within you.

a/n: ty for the request!! still getting my sea legs with them lolol 🥰💞

[mindfulstudyquest]

❥﹒♡﹒☕﹒ 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝘁𝗼 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗮 𝗯𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗼𝘂𝘁; this is my personal way of coping with burnout, it may not work for you, but feel free to share in the comments the things that make you feel better when you feel this way ( blogger's note at the end of the post ).

𝟭. recognize the signs ( 🏳️ )

the moment of denial is over. i know, burnouts always come at the worst times when you have upcoming exams and a thousand things to do, but ignoring it won't get you anywhere, on the contrary, it will only prolong the worst, so recognizing and accepting the signs of burnout is the first step to getting out of it. if you don't end it, it'll end you, right? some common symptoms of burnout are exhaustion, excessive irritability, hormonal imbalances, change in appetite (too much or too little), sleep irregularities, increase in nervous tics.

𝟮. take time off ( 🫧 )

allow yourself to rest and recharge by taking a break from work or other stressors. depending on the severity of the burnout you may need an afternoon, or perhaps a couple of days to recover, it's not important, the important thing is that you reserve some deep rest that can really recharge you to start studying/working again. put off all non-essential tasks, put your phone on do not disturb mode and allow your brain to rest. if you have slept little in the previous days, taking a nap will not be bad.

𝟯. set boundaries + practice self care ( 🌱 )

establish clear boundaries between work and personal life to prevent burnout from reoccurring. prioritize activities that promote physical and mental well-being, such as exercise, meditation, and hobbies. i personally love taking care of my body doing beauty treatments that make me feel better about myself. i also deep clean my room and change my bedsheets, if it's true that the mess in our room is a reflection of the mess in our mind i can't see why it can't go both ways: removing the mess from my room is like cleaning my head from the stress in it.

𝟰. rearrange priorities ( 🐝 )

delegate everything you can delegate, you can't do everything alone and it's normal to seek support from colleagues and family. reorganize yourself so you have a plan to follow as soon as you recharge your batteries. ask yourself what led to burnout, was it the workload? in that case breaking it into smaller tasks could make it less onerous. maybe it was it's difficulty? maybe asking for help or using some time for additional research might work. in short, prepare a realistic scheme to follow to tackle the task.

𝟱. seek support ( ❣️ )

talk to friends, family, or a therapist about your feelings and experiences to gain perspective and emotional support.

𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 hi everyone, it's no secret that i've posted very little in the last week, but unfortunately i experienced a bad burnout that incapacitated me for a few days. family circumstances, academic stress and the arrival of spring have added up to take away the strength to do anything from me, but i'm here to recover and here is a simple guide that i always follow when i find myself in these situations. on the one hand i'm happy tho, it's my first burnout since i started university, eight months ago now, i remember that when i was in high school they were much more frequent and long, i feel i've become much more stable.

[maximotts]

Free use cowgirl Wanda 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

Going to the grocery store because Wanda’s been so busy lately only to find Wanda there and you’re like “omg hi Wanda 😊 But wait I thought I was doing the shopping this week?” and you check your phone to see if you’ve missed something. You haven’t. Wanda just couldn’t wait to bend you over 💞💞

My phone is doing the ios17 update and I'm just remembering I needed to finish answering this ask whoopsies

This got longer than expected (it's only like 600 words tho), but I simply cannot apologize for free use cowgirl Wanda content uhmmm cws for public sex and typical farm Wanda dirty talking, 18+ obvs

I don't think I've said it before, but Wanda does errands to shops in town to drop off farm goods every week because shopping local is good and cute! So there's a very high possibility you'd run into her at the grocery store and you're always so giddy when you see her, the shop owner thinks you two are just precious!

He doesn't even notice Wanda holding your hips so tight you're squeaking or how she's taunting you by pulling the ends of your pigtails! When you excuse yourself to finish the rest of your shopping, Wanda follows oh so innocently until the two of you are out of eyesight... and maybe she spots you stretching to reach the flour at the very back of the shelf, flowy dress riding up to show off your legs, how's Wanda supposed to do anything but pin you against the shelves?

"What right do you have to look this damn beautiful all by yourself back here?" And you can barely get a word in between Wanda's kisses, particularly when she takes your tongue and sucks, leaving your mouth an absolute mess.

At the sound of Wanda undoing her belt, you startle, trying and failing to wrench your thigh from where your girlfriend was shamelessly hitching it high around her hip. "Are you crazy? Someone's going to see us!"

"Now bunny, don't be like that," Wanda's totally unbothered by your struggles, knowing you'd settle as soon as she gets her hand up your panties— and she's exactly right. "I believe we have an arrangement, or did you forget?"

You couldn't possibly forget, your mind always racing with thoughts of how and when Wanda would decide to fuck you again. Sometimes you baited her into it, not wanting to wait, but being taken in the back of the town's only grocery store was an idea that'd never dared crossed your mind. Wanda's either until about five minutes prior.

"Good girl..." Wanda's smile is stunningly bright as she feels you relax against her, arms winding around her shoulders while she lines up her strap, opting not to prep you for the sake of time. "I'd guess we have about ten minutes before Steve finishes counting the jars I brought and writing me a check so behave and be quiet."

It's the shortest ten minutes of your life, the time flying by under Wanda's praises and the knee-buckling orgasm she gifts you. Your teeth desperately bite into the shoulder of Wanda's coat as she continues to fuck you, pumping your full of her cum until she's satisfied.

Pulling out was bittersweet, the brunette loving your impish whines but hating to have to leave. She did have to exercise some self-restraint, but that didn't mean she couldn't pick up where she left off later... "You'd better keep every last bit of my cum in that sweet pussy or I'll drag your ass right back here and we'll start all over again. Understand?"

"Uh huh..." It's terrible how quickly Wanda takes all your thoughts with such a quick fuck; you can tell how spaced out you sound, but you don't have anywhere near the coherence you need to mask it. You'd have to go straight back to the house after this, could only hope you remembered the rest of what you needed to get for dinner.

"I have a few more stops to make so I'll meet you back at home. Text me if you need anything, love you." Wanda sends you off with another kiss and a pat on the ass and before you know it, she's gone and you've never done your shopping more dreamily.

[rayshippouuchiha]

For the YEET AU-

Bear with me now imma bout to take you on a ✨trip✨

So, the ship is Izuku/Shinsou right. But think about them first meeting.

Okay so Aizawa clearly set the standard for Izuku and his crushes. Now he has like a little check list for people that he forms a crush on ya know. 1) the person needs to be able to yeet him, 2) the person needs the dead inside, I hate life stare and 3) murder vibes

Previously, the people that potentially lined up were Uraraka and Todoroki.

Uraraka had the ability to give him distance with the yeet. She could send him miles🫡. Her murder vibes were on point as well! But she didn’t have the dead inside stare so she was out.

Todoroki had the dead inside stare and the murder vibes down pat, no practice needed. His ability and willingness to yote tho left much to be desired so he was out too.

Now Shinsou! Shinsou pops up at the sports festival with the under eye bags-murder vibes-I hate everyone in this room, and Izuku is immediately ✨awake and alert✨. No yeeting to be seen but Izuku is willing to teach the skill. After all Aizawa also did not know to yeet him at first either.

So while time goes by and things happen Izuku keeps the pretty purple haired murder boy in the back of his mind.

And then it happens! The joint class exercise!! Shinsou will be joining them!!! And he is using a capture weapon!!!! With the ability to yeet!!!!!

Izuku is enamored. Infatuated. Besotted!

He approaches Shinsou from behind, going to congratulate him, tell him he knew Shinsou could do it, wish him luck. He puts a hand on Shinsou’s shoulder about to open his mouth…and suddenly he is air born. Although the surprise of suddenly being yoted took him a second, Izuku could feel nothing but smug satisfaction. Shinsou was perfect!

Shinsou on the ground trying to explain to an exasperated Aizawa with his face in his hands: I didn’t mean to yeet him! My hands just did it!! It was INSTINCT!!! IT JUST HAPPENED!!!!

Oh oh this is perfect. Shinsou has no idea what he's just accidentally gotten himself into, Aizawa is dreading whatever bullshit chaos the gremlin is about to unleash, and Izuku is THRILLED

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I read ur twst chars analises a lot,n I just wanna say I really love how u write em!!! I like ur nuanced interpretation, how they r very detailed,thoughtful, n objective, even tho its not about ur favs or even ones u dislike, also made me realize how good twst writing can be. So if I may ask, which of the cast do u think is the/one of the best written char(s) in the game?? N vice versa if u may, like ones u think need improvement :^]

[Analysis masterlist here! I believe it’s currently full so I’m working on putting together a second one :>]

First of all, thank you very much for enjoying my analyses ^^ I try very hard to research and to put myself in the shoes of each character I’m writing about, and I’m glad that it seems to show in my writing.

If we’re talking about the main 22 NRC students + Grim… (I’m not counting blank slate Yuu, NRC staff, Halloween characters, RSA students, and NPCs because they have such limited lore + vignettes and I feel it wouldn’t be fair to compare.) Honestly, I feel like they’re all written pretty decently, with perhaps the caveat being that there’s more content weighted toward the OB boys due to their significance in the main story and irl marketing. Some other characters, like Jade and Rook, are purposefully more mysterious as part of their characters.

I guess if I had to point out some weaker characters, I’d say they’d be Jack and Epel? I feel like those two are pretty… one note… 😔 What do we know about Jack? He’s strong, loyal, likes to exercise, is disciplined, is a tsundere… What do we know about Epel? He wants to be cool and not cute, he YEEHAWS, he likes apples, he’s really close with his family… You can see this reflected in the core of Epel’s dream; he wants to be tall and muscular, which is very simple when put next to the other dreams.

Of the two, Epel is worse off because he actually had a character arc in book 5 where he begins to accept that beauty and femininity can be a strength and isn’t something to be ashamed of. However, almost ALL the vignettes and side content outside of the main story have Epel exclusively talking about how tough and cool he wants to be + rejecting cute/girly things, which sort of negates the main story development and feels like he has regressed so much. I get that maybe he wouldn’t change his mind right away or do a 180, but it still creates a strong whiplash. Jack is at least consistent. Sort of stale, but consistent.

Those two aren’t flat or anything, but it feels like they hinge on the same handful of traits in every appearance and whenever we learn anything new about them, it’s just the same thing we already knew before but said slightly differently. I’d like to know more about Jack and Epel outside of these areas.

P.S. SORRY TO THE JACK AND EPEL STANS IN My AUDIENCE OTL

[missmonsters2]

Heya, i was wondering if i could ask a question about Under the light/you found me?

I'm assuming after under the light yn started her physio again and got better since it seemed she didn't have a limp. But I was wondering if it left any permanent scars? As I was wondering after their first time having sex after the break, wanda might have asked about it while they were in bed? Or when yn was undressed at some point had her back to wanda, she noticed the scars and delicately touched them?

I'd like to think she def had yns body memorised so seeing all the new marks made her want to etch them into her mind. But she also felt guilty, not being there in her time of need (even tho yn didn't want her to see anyway).

So yeah I was just curious whether wanda talked or focused her touch of them after she made love to yn?

Under the Light || You Found Me

Hiii!! This is a mix between explaning and partially written behind the scenes!!

Yes, Reader finished her weekly physio in california and keeps up with her regular stretches and exercises to prevent her legs from getting bad. She still goes to physio monthly.

As for scars, there are definitely some on her legs. Particularly, there's one that starts mid-calf and goes up her thigh to her hip. It's completely healed over but the the scar healed as whatever lighter skin-tonned raised bump.

Reader typically never feels self-conscious about it, but the way Wanda gazes upon her skin, her fingers tracing over the scar can make Reader feel slightly uncomfortable in an insecure way.

"I love you. You're beautiful. You're mine and I'm yours." Is all Wanda ever says when she notices you're uncomfortable.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

They've talked about it a few times late at night when the world is sleeping but they're just basking in each other's presence in bed. The sheets rest just below their shoulders.

"I don't know," you say quietly. "I don't hate the scars, per se. I don't love them either. They're a reminder that I survived." The implied words that your best friend didn't hung in the silence.

Wanda nods because she feels the same way. "I understand. I feel the same way. Not because I think they're gruesome or anything. I love them because they are a reminder you survived and I'm so, so thankful. But they're also a reminder that I was a bad girlfriend—that I was a coward and neglected to notice."

You brush a stray strand of hair behind Wanda's ear.

"I think the way you look and touch them every day has more than made up for it."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

There are times when you are in a mood, one that can't quite be explained.

It's your own fault really. Sometimes you neglect your daily streches and miss your monthly physio appointments.

Your legs hurt and you're cranky, and you just don't want Wanda to know.

"Why do you insist on hiding it from me?" Wanda scowls at you.

"Why are you always in my business?" you scowl at her back.

Wanda doesn't engage further, knowing that it'll only lead down to a horrid fight with you that ends up with the two of you feeling guilty.

"Lay down on the couch," Wanda jerks her head towards the couch and walks off to grab some icy-hot lotion.

"It's fin—"

"JUST LAY DOWN!" Wanda yells from the kitchen and you purse your lips before doing as she says.

"Just lay down," you mockingly whisper to yourself as you lay on your stomach.

Wanda comes with the lotion and hovers of you. She debates taking off your shorts but decides to leave it be since they're short enough.

Once Wanda's hands start working in slow motions, massaging your calf and slowly making her way up, and the lotion slowly warming up your muslces, you relax.

It's only about 10 minutes into the massage that you turn your head and watch Wanda's focused face but her eyes filled with concern and love that guilt wracks you.

"Sorry," you mumble. "Thank you."

Wanda eyes merely moves to look at you while she continues working. She looks back at your legs, her eyes trailing the long rasied scar. "I love you. You're beautiful. You're mine and I'm yours."

[utterlyazriel]

whom the shadows sing for —(and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: chapter twoooo i hope you guys enjoy!! and i take this as pure reason to knuckle down and finish chapter three tehe <3 let me know what u think!! a million mwahs to @strangerstilinski for being my beta too, even tho i yelled at u sorry :/

word count: 3.5k

synopsis: Azriel trains you and is particularly unforgivable about it. Together, you tackle tonics. Azriel ponders the unmistakable pull he feels and you try your best to keep your secret under wraps. fem!reader, mulan-esque au

— CHAPTER TWO :: ALLIES

The storm had calmed come morning. The Mother's Kiss slowed, quietened to only a whisper between the trees.

With it, the ache in your forearm too. The torn skin knitted up in the night, the heat from the fire like a balm on the wound.

But right now, the ache was threatening to make a reappearance.

You glare across the clearing at Azriel from your place in the mud, where he's just knocked you down. Your lungs burn. Your chest heaves as you try to catch you breath. The last hour has been spent on the same infuriating exercise.

The sludgy dirt, still sloppy from the melted snow of last night, drips off your arms as you scramble to get to your feet. Your wings shudder, flicking off the cold dirt with a shake.

"Try again." Azriel says, his voice calm.

He has no weapons on him today with the exception of one knife, strapped high on his thigh. Its obsidian hilt glimmers under the winter sun, rays catching the decorative jewel on the end. The rest of his weapons won't be far you're willing to bet. No Illyrian warrior lets themself be so unprepared.

Or perhaps he truly only needs one blade to hold his own in a fight.

A flicker of envy. You suppose you should feel little more gratuitous of his offer to train, especially considering he's such a mighty warrior.

But between the built-in wariness that comes with having a secret such as yours and the way he keeps throwing you in the mud... it's hard to dredge up some gratitude. You must have been at this for hours now.

Besides, a little part of you can't help but be skeptical of his offer. What exactly did he stand to gain from helping you?

"Why are you helping me again?"

You're panting lightly, bent over with your hands on your knees. Your bound chest twinges in pain. You weren't out of shape by any means — you were an Illyrian warrior after all. But getting knocked down endlessly was beginning to wear you down.

"And," You huff, waving a hand behind at the mud pile he keeps dumping you in. "How does this help?"

Azriel crosses his arms across his broad chest. In the daylight, his shadows shimmer and wisp about. You had been unsurprised to find he's even more devastatingly handsome in the light of daytime.

After his final words the evening before, Azriel had disappeared out into the storm without further explanation, his shadows swirling around him like falling snow.

Come morning, you rose before the sun and stepped outside, prepared to head to training—and there he was. Posed up against a tree, the obsidian-hilt blade his hands, sharpening it in long, precise strokes.

"Lord Mylind has been spoken to regarding your training." Azriel had said, in place of a greeting. "He knows of your expected absence whilst you train under me."

You hadn't said anything; half convinced there had been something coated on Brudam's knife that made you hallucinate the whole thing.

"Though," The male before you continued, finally sheathing his dagger away into the holster on his thigh with casual precision. "He tells me that your absences during training have come to be somewhat expected."

He raises his eyebrows slightly.

"Why do you think they hate me so much?" You asked, a bitter edge to your voice. It's a non-answer.

"Because you neglect your duties as a warrior?"

"Ha. Did Lord Mylind use that word?"

"It's true, one is not considered a warrior until one passes The Blood Rite." Azriel commented, his head tilting to the side just an inch. "You're a warrior-in-training. Provided you go to training, that is."

The combined mention of The Blood Rite and your missing time during training had you tensing up. Azriel had noticed, his eyes shifting to your stiff posture. He hadn’t commented — just stalked off into the snow, wings held high and proud, not checking to see if you bothered to follow.

Now, muscles aching and skin coated in mud-slick, you briefly wonder if you were regretting following him.

"You're smaller than usual Illyrians.” Azriel says. “They rely on brute strength but someone your size is better to rely on your agility— a skill they've been neglecting. No doubt to try to discourage you."

A flush of nervousness rushes through your system at his comment on your size. There's a good reason you don't size up against Illyrian males—being that you aren't one at all.

For good measure, you wipe your face haphazardly with a muddy hand. Any pesky scents that might give you away get smothered beneath it.

"And I believe in what you're doing," Azriel continues, his hazel eyes watching you closely. "It's honourable, no matter what Brudam and his brood say."

Something akin to pride blooms deep in your chest at his approval, at his belief in your mission. Having fought on your own for so many years had taken its toll— one you weren't aware of until it eased. Just a touch.

"Could've sworn you just enjoyed knocking me on my ass."

That glimmer of amusement is back in his hazel eyes. You swear his lips twitch as if holding back a smile.

"Try again." He says, in lieu of an answer. Not a denial.

He gestures to his neck again. Tan skin that hides beneath dark, scaly armor. This has been your task for the last hour — get your hand on his throat, through hand-to-hand combat.

Considering how you'd managed to stick him with a fork just yesterday, you had assumed it was easy territory.

You had been sorely, sorely wrong.

Straightening yourself up properly, you roll your shoulders back and flare your wings out a bit. Your boots sink into the mud an inch. You assess the distance between you and Azriel, eyes narrowed, and try to put together each piece of advice he's given you in the last hours.

Plant your feet when you're striking.

Stay on your toes if you're advancing.

Use your environment to your advantage.

Punch through, not just at.

Your height is as much an advantage as it is a disadvantage.

Some of it was nothing more than a reiteration of your training in camp. And yet, when delivered from Azriel, under his focused gaze, it seems easier to absorb. It holds a different meaning.

This time as you survey your approach a thousand other details whisper in your ear.

The rustle of the trees, the whirl of the wind, the stance he sinks into like second nature.

If you can't overpower him, how can you get a hand on his neck?

Your boots sink deeper into the mud and you tense, your wings held taut and high behind you as you ready yourself to pounce.

The wind picks up, a whistle in the air, and you can see, even from afar, how the swirling of his shadows perk up — as if listening for any whispers in it.

Time to strike.

You burst forward and stay low this time, letting your knees take the brunt of your weight. Instead of trying to get past him, you need to bring his neck down to your level. A half-baked plan scrambles together.

Feigning moves against a proficient warrior like him is nearly laughable and his thick forearm moves to parry your punch as quickly as you form it. Good. It's what you're relying on.

You pivot your energy and focus it on kicking out his bent knee— and you catch him enough by surprise that he stumbles back a step. He doesn’t fall though.

You grit your teeth and know you have about half a second before he’s going to have you dodging punches and landing back in the mud. You keep pressing forward.

Skin meets leather as you land a sharp snap against his shoulder, your knuckles stinging deliciously but he deftly blocks your next blow. And the next, and the next.

Then you’re hitting more of his hands than you are anywhere else.

Frustrated, you snarl, increasing your speed and letting him focus on your incoming punches so he doesn’t see it when you send a kick into his groin.

His defense drops razor fast— both his scarred hands wrapping around your calf and capturing it between his legs, stopping it 2 inches from making contact.

Your eyes dart up to his face, nearly grinning at the incredulous look he gives you.

It’s the moment you’ve been waiting for — and something gleeful in you sings when you shoot your hand up faster than both his can move. The palm of your hand connects with the skin of his neck.

“Aha!” You shout, unable to help yourself.

You’re panting, out of breath from the fast combat and yet, still savouring the victory. A foreign glimmer of admiration and approval flashes deep in your chest. It's gone as quick as it appears.

Azriel doesn’t waste a second to sweep your feet out from beneath you.

Unprepared, you crumple and hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. A groan rumbles in your chest. Mud squishes up against your cheek, sullying it.

For a moment, you just lay there and groan in pain.

You're pretty sure every single muscle in your body aches as you gather your strength and push yourself up from the mud, elbows quivering. If you thought regular training was rigorous, this has been brutal.

True, there's less hitting you while you're down which you were more than accustomed to — only once have you thought Azriel might give you a kick while you were defenseless and too tired to cover your face.

But instead, he had surprised you and offered a hand. You had hesitated before taking it.

And as you're finding out, when you're spending less time worrying about Illyrians unfairly targeting you due to your size, you're a hell of a lot better fighter.

With a much better opponent though.

You win some, you lose some.

"Anyone ever call you a prick before?" You seethe quietly; because you had done the task he wanted you to do and he'd still sent you back on your ass. You spit into the mud and wipe your mouth.

"Definitely." Azriel answers. Again, there's that hint of amusement in his voice.

You huff and push up to rest back on your heels, planting your hands on your knees and glaring up at him. The muck on your wings makes you shiver, sludgy trails of mud sliding off them unpleasantly. You're well used to the cold.

"Good." You huff. "Prick."

Azriel smiles at that, not bothering to hide it. You find yourself smiling back at him, an out-of-breath laugh making your shoulders shake and your head bow. The muscles in your stomach hurt as they move.

When you look back up at him, he's offering his hand again.

You take it, this time without hesitation.

—

The day is for training. Azriel, the mentor. You, the student.

The night is for learning. You're both students here.

The second part of his offer that you clearly hadn't expected, given your wide-eyed look when he turned up at your door on that first evening, bringing all manners of plants needed to make healing tonics. Things you hadn't been able to find or afford on your own.

It had been then, he thinks, that you realised how serious he was about helping you. That his offer extended beyond training you physically.

"Is there really a difference between cutting and slicing?" Azriel asks as he peers down at the table beneath him.

In his marred hands is a root vegetable, something that flowered prettily— nice purple skin with a golden centre. He frowns down at it, his gaze shifting slowly from the vegetable to the knife in his hand.

It’s strange, he thinks. Strange to hold a knife and have it not be for violence.

"There is a difference," Your reply floats across from the other side of the room.

Nearly a week he's been here. Azriel had been pushing you more each day he was here, brutal one-on-one training to hone your skills.

It’s working; already he can see the certainty of your stance, your increased agility, the hunter's glint in your eyes. The clumsiness of the first day of training has already been worn away. Beneath it, the Illyrian warrior emerges.

He's exhausting you, he knows. Working you twice as hard to try to fill every gap in your training that seems to be missed. Finding every weak point left by the Lords of this camp, to disadvantage you no doubt, and training it up.

But if you’re tired from it, you don’t complain.

Azriel lifts his head to look at you properly, his eyes watching your hands as you strip leaves off one of the plants he had brought with him today.

Hands, weathered and much smaller than most males, that work diligently at your task. Your focus remains strong, even as you talk over your shoulder.

"Well, slicing is cutting but a more precise form." You shift your wing back, tucking it in, as you finally turn your head back to look at him.

You're a very peculiar male.

Azriel can't say he's ever met a warrior, or even an Illyrian, like yourself before. You're small. It's the first thing he had noticed when he had slipped into your tiny home those nights ago, a sturdy shelter against the harsh wind of the mountains.

You're small but your wings are still large and beautiful, tucked up neatly behind your back. Most warriors in camp must have at least a head of height on you.

The armor you wear looks old. It's been worn down, softened against your body but even still, it sits a little too low on your hips. The shoulders hang out an extra inch.

You're small and you're hardened at every edge.

It's the way anyone who grows up here has to be. And for you to have made the cut to become a warrior, even with the impairment of your height... Azriel knows you're made of tougher stuff than most.

Within that, he finds himself inexplicably drawn to you.

Azriel hates the Illyrian mountains. Loathes the culture he comes from that festers here, their swift brutality and preferred cruelty against even their own. Invisible standards that made one Fae better than another.

The lives they taught him to take so easily.

So the last thing he had expected to find coming back here, to a place haunted with wretched memories, was... an ally.

But staring across the space to you, he can't think of any other word to describe the stirring in his chest. The drag on his heart, as if it's lurching forward.

"Look, let me show you."

You drop what's in your hands and take a couple steps to cross the space. The shelter is like you, small, just shy of cramped. The ceiling could stand to gain a few inches and the inside is as bare as Azriel would expect of a home in a war-camp.

One rickety table. A bed tucked into a corner. A fireplace with slanted, mismatched soot-covered bricks. There's the general rustle about the place that indicates someone sleeps here. Things hang off nails, bedded into the wall.

Hovering beside the table, you gesture for the knife in Azriel's hand. There's tenseness in your shoulders. You're still wary of him— or perhaps so used to your own company. He wonders which it is as he hands over the knife wordlessly.

"You just gotta—" The vegetable gets re-positioned on the board and when you bring down the knife, it's with an elegance that Azriel had been severely lacking.

You slice a long strip off, lengths-wise, and then pause, looking up at him to make sure he understands. "Slice?"

Azriel smiles despite himself.

That's the other thing.

You are, without a doubt, the most beautiful Fae he's ever seen in his life— not to mention, by far the most beautiful male he’s ever laid his eyes on.

It had taken him by surprise initially, even his shadows rearing back in shock when you had turned and sprung at him, cutlery in hand. Azriel had fumbled one of his blocks and it led to you sinking the fork into his shoulder— all because his mind had been whispering beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

It's the reason you had managed to land a hit at all— or Azriel tells himself that. Because otherwise, he had a serious reason to brush up on his own training.

He also tells himself it had nothing to do with his offer.

It hadn't swayed his reasoning in the slightest; not the way he can't take his eyes off you for some peculiar, unbidden reason. Training you and learning how to make tonics alongside you was entirely due to his belief in your mission.

Liar, one of his shadows seems to whisper in response.

Azriel was over five hundred years old — tangling with a male was not entirely foreign to him. And yet, Azriel had found it was not as to his taste as females were.

Another glance at you has him, once again, second-guessing that.

As quickly as it enters his mind, he snuffs it, his wings giving a minuscule twitch, right as you offer him back the knife.

He opts for a question instead. "How did you come to live here?"

It's one of the other unusual parts of your intriguing survival out here. Not only did you make the cut to train to become a warrior against the odds, but you also live alone. Azriel lets himself survey the shelter once more.

It's far better than some of the conditions he's been subjected to before and yet... it's not quite homey. As though you've never relaxed here, even when it's just you.

"I built it."

Azriel blinks. Then he turns his head down to look at you, perplexed.

"You...?"

You've walked back to the plant you were handling, starting to strip off the leaves again. You hum in response to his words, sparing a glance up at the ceiling.

That certainly explained why it was on the smaller side, made to your stature. Azriel can't fathom how you managed it in the blizzardly conditions of the mountains, entirely on your own.

"As I'm sure you're familiar, bastards don't get anything in these camps."

Your voice tightens with the pain of an unhealed wound.

Azriel doesn't say anything, just presses his lips together thinly. He nods.

"It was already a ruin, the fireplace and floorboards were about the only thing left." This time as you tug the leaves off the plant in your hand, it's a little meaner. "It took me years to properly finish it because the males in camp kept coming by to see if they could knock it back down."

Something roars in Azriel's ears, a familiar icy fury at the injustice that roamed so freely in these mountains. A plague amongst these people. So many Fae, so eager to kick those who are already down.

Looking up from your hands, your motions slow, and a distant look dawns on your face as though you've been whisked away into an old memory. A cold smile graces your mouth.

"So eventually when one of them came around, I showed them why they shouldn't fuck with my stuff. Or with me."

How you gained your solitary fortress out here.

It had piqued his interest on the very first evening, the sole shelter out from the cluster of cabins in the camp. That even though the drunken warriors were first to point it out when Azriel came asking who was causing trouble, none of them would go near it.

He can guess a multitude of things you did to protect it and yourself. Something akin to admiration blooms in his chest. Something heavier, deeper, lurks beneath it.

As your hands go back to work, Azriel can't help but watch you silently for a moment. His shadows pour over his shoulders, seeping down his arms the longer he looks; as though they, too, want to figure out the enigma in front of them.

You're a very peculiar male, Azriel thinks for the second time that evening.

The runt of the litter and a bastard just as him.

A natural born fighter and an Illyrian warrior against all the odds.

A Fae with long hair like Cassian's, chopped at the shoulder and scraped back — and a voice softer than most. A Fae with eyes that burn with a promise for retribution, with icy fury like his own.

Azriel picks up the knife and slices the vegetable as you had, slow and long. He steals one more glance at you — to find you're doing the same, chancing a split-second glimpse to look at him.

Azriel averts his eyes back to the table.

He feels the treacherous glow of his cheeks and is thankful you can't see his face clearly in the dim light. He slices again.

And as he mulls his thoughts, the pair of you working in tandem as the fire crackles loudly in the corner, Azriel makes a point to ignore the thundering feeling that seems to sing right out of his heart.

No matter if he's half-sure he knows just what word it's singing.

(Mate. Mate. Mate).

[NEXT PART: COMPANIONS]

—

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