#highly recommend getting yourself a copy and reading it slowly

[whats-in-a-sentence]

"The Complete Maus" - Art Spiegelman

[soracities]

I read Abdulla Pashew’s “Union” on your page, and it literally shook me to my core. I have never been a poetry kind of girl. I was always more into prose. But lately, I’ve been getting into poetry slowly, and your blog is helping me discover some great poems and poets. I am so grateful to you for that!

I wanted to ask if you know Abdulla Pashew’s other works similar to/as bone-chilling as Union or any other poets.

I want to read poetry, but it’s scattered all over the internet, and looking them up on Google demotivates me. I can’t have books of poetry collections as I'm not into particular poets yet. I wish there were some kind of website or something where all the great poems of great poets are gathered, hahaha.

Anyway, thank you, and keep doing what you’re doing because you’re great at it!

I'm so glad to hear that, anon 🤍

In all honesty, I'm hesitant to compare and contrast poems when they've had such an emotional impact because often that impact is deeply personal to the reader, and you don't know when, or where, it's going to come from; it's also distinct to a particular poem reaching you at a particular time in some cases and isn't necessarily something you can replicate by trying to make other poems match the experience of one particular poem--all of them are unique in the end. All I can give you are the poems that most moved me, and that I feel tally with "Union" either in terms of affecting me through rhythm, language style or content. A few individual ones:

"Rain Song" by Badr Shakir al-Sayyab

"Clothes" by Sherko Bekas

"No Explosions" Naomi Shihab Nye

"A Kiss on the Forehead" Marina Tsvetaeva

"Cloves" by Saadi Youssef (second poem on the page)

"The Cinnamon Peeler" by Michael Ondaatje

"Separation" by W.S. Merwin

"Woman Unborn" by Anna Swir

"Fire Graffiti" by Tomas Transtromer

"Shadowplay" by Sándor Kányádi

Collection-wise I think the first poet that comes to mind whose writing-style is slightly in the same tone as "Union" is Maram al-Massri, particularly A Red Cherry on a White-Tiled Floor (you can read it for free on the Internet Archive here). I would also highly recommend Dunya Mikhail's The Iraqi Nights (some of the poems in the series "Tablets" can be read here).

As for Pashew himself, there are only handful of his poems online in English, most of them by the Poetry Translation Centre. The translator of "Union" has translated a selection of his poetry in Dictionary of Midnight, though, which I've added it to my list, so if you find yourself drawn to him, it might be worth seeing if your local library has a copy as a way of getting more directly in touch with some of Pashew's work (in fact, I would recommend checking the library in general for any poets you've enjoyed: you're not paying for the books and so there is no pressure to feel you have to enjoy them).

[kimeoshi]

‘Twas both 👁👁, but yeah honestly I’m very interested cause damn- (sorry if I seem awkward I’m not good with online interaction 😭😭 LMAO)

NAH no worries you're doing fine!!

It's a pretty wide array of topics but touching the surface of it, I'll go into my art process.

Here's a short thread where I went into this similarly!

I pretty much follow the steps of what I mentioned there, but it varies a little bit based on the style I go for too: painting whole illustrations or design or more simple fun things.

I could describe what I did in each frame of my process gifs which I've posted before but I would need some time. With big pieces, the steps I go by (read slowly, it's a pretty dense text):

thumbnailing -> sketching with bigger shapes to get the line of action/feel (that is, I'm just blocking out the composition) -> refine that a bit -> hide BG, draw the characters (lineart) and add the base colors of them. (then merge & rasterize a copy of it for later) -> put them back in the environment (unhide BG), make them grey -> add shading in greyscale style (multiply layers, glow dodge layers, you name it) -> get that previous rasterized layer back and put it on color mode -> those characteristic shiny parts get a new layer with overly saturated + high brightness colors -> color BG with a new color layer -> then rendering/refining for concerning amounts of time -> add effects and change color/brightness/contrast curves + gradient map -> profit???

For software, I generally use Paint Tool SAI (I adore blending/painting here), I use Clip Studio Paint for the 3D posing library/sketching/lineart, and Photoshop for final effects. (Update: I mostly do all things in CSP now)

(if you have CSP, try out this brush... it saved my life)

As for improvement:

I experiment, watch a lot of youtube videos (I personally like the ones which analyse an artist). I suggest thoroughly understanding how something moves and works (for anatomy I can recommend the book 'Anatomy for Sculptors'), I also study and jot down important pieces of advice or insights to a collective document, rather than saving them to my device where it is highly likely to be forgotten.

I believe if you put great importance on colors and composition, that can cause the most noticeable, 'fastest' improvement, at least if you view it from the lens of social media. (While online environments provide significant reassurance, it must be engaged with in moderation, as it is easy to fall into a lot of negative mindsets, taking the enjoyment out by perfectionism, comparison, or seeking validation, etc.)

Another improvement technique you can try is to slow down a speedpaint video of your choice and follow along with the artist. Extremely useful, I recommend, put your artist under a microscope.

Of course I don't do all of these things every single waking hour, it's just a side hobby to my unrelated studies in real life. Even if you don't actively draw your visual library and knowledge can improve passively, I find that so fascinating. I don't touch a paper for months and there's a sudden jump, like damn what. (Not saying you should do this, active learning is still better ofc) Either way my point with that is, that improving does and did take a lot of time for me as well.

Apologies if this goes all over the place, I tried to touch upon every subject that came to mind at the moment, in not too much in detail, overall I hope it makes sense

If you have any specific questions related, feel free to ask! Or if there's any specific problem you'd like to tackle but find yourself lost, same applies!

[lightlycareless]

First, it hurts— [side story]: Hinata takes Satoru horse riding.

Depictions of brief sucession mentioned on the main story, First, it hurts—, a Naoya Zen'in x Reader fic, which you can find here! (totally recommend reading that first :>)

Summary: When Naoaki, Naoya's oldest brother, takes Y/N to feed the horses his family owns, they share fun stories and experiences relating to the equestrian activity. Y/N briefly mentions the time Satoru was screaming his heart out when Hinata, her sister, took him out for a ride. She recalls it as a somewhat funny story, but doesn't go any further than that— this is that story.

Chapter warnings: none :> except that Satoru is super annoying.

A/N: Been wanting to write this side story for a while, and finally, it's here! I've been through somewhat allot these past few weeks, but i'm slowly getting through it. I have more stories to write before I set a date on updating the main storyline, but rest assured, I'm working on it :>

Also, this idea ended up being very different from what I initially wanted (shorter, if you must haha) but I still liked how it ended nonetheless! I hope it's to your enjoyment! I really did like writing Hinata in a... different light 😏

As always, reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated ❤❤ Happy reading!

Ao3 link.

"That sounds interesting, but ” You sigh, plunging your back towards the wall and relaxing into the feathered comfort of your pillow "I don’t feel like going, so I’ll stay here instead"

"Aw, come on Y/N!!" Hinata beseeched, attacking you with the combination of pouty lips and puppy eyes for dramatic effect "It's going to be fun!"

"I don’t doubt that" you reiterate, eyes falling down onto your pink  Gameboy, the same one you couldn't stop from customizing as soon as you found someone that did such work—showing how unaffected you were by her adorable manipulation. “But I’d rather do this instead” you then nudge towards your newest distraction, waving before her a brand new copy of the game of the season: Pokémon Emerald.

It was the first time you’d be able to play after days and days of waiting to get your hands on it—an expected occurrence for the preceding games were an absolute success, meaning that it was bound to sell out as soon as it hit store shelves—and you weren’t about to waste the opportunity of playing it on your first free day of summer!

A date that would’ve arrived earlier… had the reason for your struggling not been your father.

Eiichi was the kind of father that was very supportive of his children’s lifestyle, even if he didn’t understand most of it personally.

However, his encouragement shifted when he came across an unfavorable article about the growing otaku community, one that painted them as weirdos with no bright future and were “effectively” heading towards souring the population. 

A tabloid with no intention of actually understanding them, or objectively stating that there’s always a radical end to these groups and that not all of them were like that.

But given his worrisome nature towards his children, especially you, his youngest… well, let’s say that he didn’t need to read more to grow weary of your involvement with those kind of people and the danger they could entail to your persona, thus, under the pretense of your hobby becoming too distracting of your studies, he prohibited you from joining the wait line of your favorite video game store, leaving you stranded in the island of seclusion as the world basked in the newest, marvelous installment of your favorite franchise.

But where there is a will, there is a way, and it wouldn’t take long before you’d find yourself discreetly texting a close friend of yours and asking them to get you a copy of this highly sought-for game in exchange for monetary compensation plus an extra for the inconvenience.

Days later, the unsealed cartridge is in your hands.

“Why are you always so against going to the stable anyways?” Hinata ponders, as she always does whenever you reject her invitations, hoping to finally catch an explanation, for in her mind, there is no way you can’t like such a fun activity. “Is it the smell?"

"No, not really” You didn’t mean for the following statement to be a brag, but you think you’ve had worse. Curses can be quite… intolerable in the odor department.

"Then what is it?" Hinata shoots another question "You don’t even have to ride the horses if you don’t want to, just be there, yeah? Although I would really like it if you did…"

"It's because of that, that I don't like going" You sigh, laying the Gameboy down to your lap before looking up to her "I wouldn’t mind accompanying you, but I know it’s inevitable that you’d ask me to ride one. And let’s say I agree to do so, I always feel like I'm going to fall, no matter how hard I try to hold on to the horse! At the end of the day, if I’m not going to be riding… what’s the purpose of me being there?"

"It's all about the stance, the legs!" Hinata interjects, hoping to ease your worry and convince you to give it a try "You just gotta connect with the horse, you know? And it’ll only be a matter of seconds before you feel the wind!"

"That literally—I feel like I’m back at square one" You chuckle, amused by Hinata’s tendency to ramble when she’s talking about things that excite her… and how she doesn’t make any sense when doing so. Nonetheless, you’re grateful for her attempt to cheer you up, however, you delegate this matter as one of those things that only those who experienced them can understand. "Well, whatever that means... thank you, but I won't be going"

"Not even if I tell you that horse-riding amateur Gojo Satoru will be... joining us?"

You perk up your ears.

"...Satoru?" you repeat, steadily, but slowly. A gotcha smile appears on Hinata's lips.

"The one and only. I invited him over a few days ago, which ended up aligning with some political matters that he has to tend here. He’s going to stay a few days so I thought, why not show him the stable?” She explains "I'm still surprised the Gojo's don't have any horses on their property, but they do have that huge temple instead…” Hinata sighs in disappointment—mourning the missed opportunity to gallop through the impressive meadow they had under their ownership.

"Not everyone is as obsessed as you are with animals, sis" You smirk and she shoots you a sharp glance.

"I'm not obsessed, just passionate” She defends her devotion "Anyways, now that you know he's coming over, do you still want to sit this one out?"

You look down to your lap and begin to analyze her invitation.

Spending the rest of your day locked in your room to play your long awaited game is what you’d call an ideal start for your summer vacation.

However… Now that your sister approached you with the possibility of seeing the narcissistic Gojo make a fool of himself (yet again) via an activity that’s known to be of his dislike… Now that’s something that you can’t miss.

Thus, without pondering much on the pros and cons of her offer, you concede. You take the pink device from your lap and place it on the small wooden nightstand beside your bed, followed by standing up to reveal your decision.

“I’ll go then” you say, stretching your arms and legs as far as physically possible and releasing a groan of satisfaction whilst doing so “How did you get him to agree?”

“Oh, he doesn’t know” Hinata nonchalantly confides and you freeze. “Which makes it all the better, he won’t see it coming”

“What?” you blink, frowning “What do you mean he doesn’t know?”

“Let’s say it’s a surprise”

“Seems more of a the thing you’d be into, not the other way around”

“Ooh, let’s just say I wanted to try something different for a change. We always go out to do a thousand things, and while I do like spending time out in the city, why not spend it inside the estate? We have all kinds of entertainment here too! And think about it, we’d be saving money, as well as supporting the local businesses”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think your sister was trying to hide an ulterior motive behind the sunny notion of supporting one of the many villages under your family’s protection…

“Anyways, we should get going. Sumire told me that Satoru arrived a few hours ago, so he might be already done with the meeting by now” Hinata makes way towards the door and slides it open, looking back to gesture at you to step out first. You walk through the frame and wait for your sister to follow behind.

Once outside and with the door closed shut, you and Hinata start heading towards the east wing of the estate, passing by various staff members and greeting them, and onto the location of the meeting hall, where conferences tend to always take place—the public ones, at least.

“Why aren’t you there, by the way?” you curiously inquired. If Satoru’s visit were for political reasons, wouldn’t it make sense that all the authoritative figures in the family be present? Such as the heir of the L/N clan, your sister ?

Ah, if only it were that easy.

"I dunno, misogyny?” Hinata shrugs “Dad told me I wouldn't be needed today, and in the same breath, he asked me to not seek an explanation from the elders because I tend to get a bit… angry with them— but it’s not my fault they give me the dumbest excuses to kick me out of meetings, if they were a bit more creative with them then I wouldn’t be that way”

"You should stop terrorizing dad, Hinata" you banter "You know he can’t help but worry for you… however, aggressive negotiations have always been your specialty—guess he should know that by now"

"That sounds too… violent. I would rather call it a diplomatic solution" the two chuckle "But that doesn't matter, I'll get to them later, for now, let's get ready for our horse riding adventure"

"About that… If you don’t mind me asking, why horse riding? Why not something else? You know Satoru doesn't really like it,  and I personally would rather do something else where I can be involved”

Hinata goes quiet, and then, she stops. Her eyes emotionlessly set on the floor as she seemingly plunges into the labyrinth of her thoughts. An eerie visage, more so when seconds continue to pass and she doesn’t respond to your question.

You’re about to repeat your inquiry, wan ting to believe that either Hinata didn’t listen to your question, or she was suddenly jolted with the remembrance of a forgotten task (anything to remove that bizarre image of your emotionless sister) but before you’re able to enunciate the first letters of your question, she suddenly glances back at you and gives you an innocent, totally-not-suspicious smile.

"Oh, for no reason. I just thought it would be nice if he did something that I liked with me once in a while, since we always end up doing what he wants, or what Suguru wants. Or Shoko… And I don't really feel like going out today, so… why not?"

“I… guess” You frown, hesitantly accepting her… seemingly fabricated response.

The way your sister can act as if she hadn’t been staring off into nothing like a complete madwoman baffles you, to say the least. It’s so different from the straightforward sister and sorcerer you knew—the one that was assertive with her actions: if anyone had an issue with her, they could deal with her directly.

There’s no doubt now in your mind that she’s hiding something… but what ? And what relationship did that have with Satoru?

It’s no secret between the three siblings that Gojo never liked horse riding. Or any outdoor activity for that matter.

Just like you, his hobbies are inclined more into the world of videogames—him being one of the main instigators of you liking them in the first place.

However, that wasn’t the only reason he disliked partaking in equestrian activities. His distaste for anything that represented an affluent life spread to it as well.

Riding horses was rich people shit, Satoru would say from time to time, and because his hatred for those at the top was immeasurable, it would be unthinkable that he would attempt to duplicate their lifestyle.

It was a wonder how he and Hinata never argued for that reason—although you can guess that the emotional significance of this activity towards your family was what kept him at bay, and eventually, removed him from being invited to partake in this hobby.

«But… that doesn’t clear why she invited me to go in the first place.»

Whatever it was that your sister had planned, whether innocent or not, it had become apparent that she wanted some kind of witness. And you were to play that role.

A witness to something to be revealed yet, an uncontrollable itch in the back of your mind that you didn’t seem to be able to pull away from. Even if you tried to focus on anything else. 

Knowing well that asking her again will bring no new information to the case you’re building, you relegate yourself to quietly follow her into the original destination, hoping that time will reveal whatever she’s brewing.

Completely ignoring the glint of mischief in her eyes, for the highly anticipated punishment towards the heir of the Gojo clan is about to take place in a matter of minutes.

"Hey, Satoru!" You’re the first one to chip in as soon as the familiar batch of white hair becomes apparent in the distance. Because of this peculiar description, finding him in crowds was always an easy feat—who else would have white hair, if it wasn’t an elderly person or Satoru himself?

Upon hearing his name being called by the recognizable tune of his future sister-in–law, Satoru’s head turns.

When you and your sister expected him to replicate the same kind of greeting you gave him upon setting eyes on them, which was by energetically waving your arm, he decided to surprised the two by racing towards your direction, and with less than necessary time to react, he swiftly raises you into his arms and begins to twirl you on the spot—a gesture that immediately has you regretting making the first contact.

“Hiii Y/N-chaaaan!!” He’d shamelessly attempt to greet whilst tormenting you, as if you were able to say anything else than groans and pleads for him to stop, for you were getting dizzier by the second and you really weren’t looking forward to alleviating yourself on him.

Satoru would eventually let you down, but the damage was already done—the world was spinning around you, and you wanted it to stop by stretching your arms towards your sister and leaning on her to regain your balance.

You’d begin to feel better, unfortunately, your reaction was not enough to quench Satoru’s insatiable appetite for trouble, and would soon attempt to do the same towards your sister.

But always the one to abstain from his childish antics, Hinata manages to avoid his clutches by swift movements that remind you of her talent as a sorcerer.

“Nope” she says, moving to the right.

“Just one—”

“Nu-uh” Hinata reiterates, now moving to the left “Not a chance”

“Not even for your future husband?”

Hinata scoffs and her frown deepens.

“ No”

And with that, Gojo reluctantly accepts defeat. Hinata’s willful nature once more proves too much for him to handle. Well, it’s not like he didn’t know she was that way—besides, it’s his duty as her future husband to cherish her just the way she is, isn’t it? 

Satoru was lucky Hinata wasn’t a mind reader, for she’d smack him for saying such convenient things when it's for his defense.

“Well, now that’s done… How have you two been? It’s been a while since I saw you, Y/N” Satoru, to everyone's surprise, decides to act like a decent human being and ask a courteous question towards the sisters.

“Good, boring” you respond with a shrug ” You know how life can be at the estate���

“More when you’re playing terrible games such as Pokémon Emerald” Gojo smirks, and there it is—the moment he was waiting for to strike. You feel silly for believing that Satoru could be anywhere near modest.

“Oh, Suguru told you, didn’t he?” you frown, moving on to realize there was only one way he would know of your newest acquisition… a betrayal of confidence from someone you’d never expect it.

“I ought to let you know that I was the one that bought the game, little sister” He arrogantly reveals and your mouth falls agape “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be playing that now”

“I told Suguru to keep it a secret from you!” You shrilled. “I knew you were going to make fun of me if you got to know about it!”

“He did, it’s just that he was having trouble finding it, so I jumped in to help” he explains “Don’t be too harsh on him”

“Aghh, does that mean I owe you a favor now?” you wince in disgust now that you discarded your disappointment for Suguru—it seems he didn’t openly go against your wishes, he only wanted to help you obtain what you wanted. It’s sad that he had to get obnoxious Satoru involved, but if there really was no other way…

It’s the intention that matters in the end.

“If you simply accept that Digimon’s greatness into your heart, I shall consider your debt forgiven”

“Oh my god, just because you like Digimon it doesn’t mean you have to brag about it—nor does it make Pokémon any less good!”

“You’re right. Digimon’s importance is something that needs to go unspoken for, thank you for reminding me” Satoru smirks, and you’re left dumbfounded by the talent he had for twisting your words and curving the environment to his benefit; something worthy of admiration if you must.

And now that you think about it… Very similar to your sister.

From as long as you can remember, Satoru always liked to think of himself as vastly different from her.  Far more down to earth, likable, less of a teacher’s pet. And Hinata would believe the same, with the exception of the teacher's pet part, although it ended up being kind of similar, since the elders and other adults alike often doted on Satoru, whether for his prestige or good looks.

However, both fail to realize that they can be as persistent and annoying as one another, at least from your experience. Satoru with you accepting Digimon as the superior franchise, and your sister with horse riding.

«Guess they really are what people call a match made in heaven… or however the saying goes» you conclude as you look back to your sister, who couldn’t look any less amused by Satoru’s repetitive sermon «Hinata would hate me if I ever tell her that»

You smile. Even if they’re annoying as hell from time to time, you couldn’t imagine a life without them.

“Welp, we’re not here to talk about videogames, we’re here to do something far more interesting” Your sister says, clasping her hands together and the noise is enough to draw your and Satoru’s attention back to her.

She looked excited, eager, however, there was something behind the recognizable enthusiasm in her eyes—more than looking forward to spending time with her equestrian friends, she was waiting for what came afterwards, like dessert after a meal.

What could’ve irked your sister so much, to the point of wanting to plot something against Satoru?

A question that does nothing to narrow down the possibilities, when it comes to Satoru of course.

After all, it’s… him that you’re talking about. With him in the equation, it could be anything really. However, considering that it was only Satoru that got invited, and not Geto or Shoko , means that he was the only one involved.

Yet again, doing nothing to pinpoint a possible cause. Well, whatever it was that has your sister bothered, she kept it a well-guarded secret.

“What are we going to do?” Satoru queries, oblivious as you expected him to be. “Are we going to the movies? Shopping? Perhaps some fine dining on this wonderful day? I didn’t bring any fancy clothes” He begins to trail off.

“Nope” She shakes her head, a grin parting her lips. “Something far much better, something that the two of you have been pushing to the side for far too long—but not anymore”

“Oh no, I know that face” Satoru’s voice shivers “Don’t tell me… you’re planning on taking us—”

“Horse riding? Yeah” Hinata announces as she presses her eyebrows together. Sure, she might’ve been somewhat accurate with her hints but she didn’t expect Satoru to catch on to it quickly. The thought of Satoru dangerously approaching the uncovering of her intentions is enough to have her anxiety creeping through her spine, a sensation that she compares to being pushed down to a lake of ice cold water. “You guessed pretty quickly”

“I mean, you’re not a very interesting person, Hina-chan. You kind of only have like, 1 trick. Do you even like anything else?”

Hinata lets out a long sigh of relief, proceeding by rolling her eyes. Seems like her concerns were for naught, and they soon fall to into irrelevancy once she realizes that Satoru was only being his usual rude self. «At least my cover is still safe» she attempts to console herself «I must be careful with my words from now onwards»

“Yeah, whatever” Hinata dismisses him and Satoru chuckles “Anyways, just follow me into the stable, I’ll give you all the details once there”

And by the way Satoru obediently follows him, without questioning her anymore or shooting her one of his traditional jabs, it’s evident that he wholeheartedly trusts Hinata with his safety, and thus, the idea that she might be planning his demise seems nothing more than a fallacious possibility.

That, of course, is not even close to the truth.

“A quick and easy stroll, something to stretch the horse’s legs, nothing more, nothing less” Hinata says as the group arrives at the outer section of the estate, just past the north wing and into the familiar wooden door that guards the storage room—the place where all safety gear for today’s activity was to be found. 

Hinata might be planning something mysterious, but that doesn’t mean she’ll do it precariously.

“Are you planning on taking Ume?” You ask, carefully observing your sister as she slides the storage door open, stepping aside to let you and Satoru in first, before going in herself and closing the door behind. 

The first thing that you notice upon stepping inside is that the room had remained virtually the same since the last time you were here, and that had been years .

If anything, the more noticeable aspects would have to be the curtains of a different color, as well as the new location of the same wooden table that’s always been there, and the addition of a picture frame, carrying the portrait of your mother alongside her favorite horse, Ume . You smile at the picture before focusing back onto your conversation with Hinata “She’s… quite old”

“I was hoping you’d help me with that” Hinata smiles upon noticing your glance on your mother’s picture—she’s the one that placed it there upon noticing there was nothing of her there, considering that she was the one that actively spent most of her time tending the stable. Although she suspects this was her father’s doing, still mourning her absence. “I just need you to take her on a stroll, she might be old but she still needs to move from time to time”

“I thought that was what we’re going to do anyways?” Satoru interjects.

“ Without a rider” Hinata scorns “You’d know if you focused on anything else than just being annoying”

“How old is Ume by the way?” You step in, hoping to put a stop on this senseless bickering before it grows too big to control. They weren’t even married yet and they’re already acting like an old couple. Oh, what their future awaits…

“Hmm, I don’t know, maybe like… 17-18 years old? She’s around Ren’s age so… no, a bit older, since she was only a pony when mom received her”

“Oh, really?” you reflect on her age—had Ume really been around for that long?

“Yeah, remember what mom said? Dad got Ume for her as some kind of wedding gift, and Ren was born roughly a year after”

“Hmm, guess the math does add up” you acknowledged “Looks like Ume has been with us for far longer than I can remember”

“That’s why we have to take good care of her! She’s like a part of the family now” Hinata cheers “You’ll  help me, right?”

“I… guess” you murmur, crossing your arms “I don’t… know if she’d want me though, she always looks far more comfortable with you”

“That’s because you always run away from the stables, if you’d spent more time with me, then you wouldn’t feel that way”

“I won’t do more than accompany you from time to time to feed her, if that’s what it takes for her to like me”

“Ah! That’s it!” Hinata sings as enlightenment dawns in her mind ”Maybe next time you can feed her!” 

“Nope” You frivolously shake your head “What if I get my hand bitten off?”

“Gah! What is an old horse like her going to do?” Hinata replies skeptically, as if the mere question brought great offense to her “I wouldn’t ask you to do something if I thought you’d be in danger”

And with that comment, you can’t help but feel a bit guilty for the way you responded. At the end of the day, her invitations always came from a place of wanting to spend her free time with you, as little as it may be, doing what she likes before diving back into work.

From a news perspective, you conclude that you’ve secluded yourself a bit sternly from her.

“Alright” With a new purpose, you confidently walk over to the closet you rightfully assume most of the gear to be and unlock the doors, eyes scanning through the carefully organized entourage of protective gear  “Do I even have things for myself anymore?”

“I don’t think so” Hinata guessed as she too heads over to the closet and glances over your shoulder “It’s been quite a while since you’ve been on the actual saddle, so maybe you’ve already outgrown whatever you had? Well, you’re not going to use them today since you’re only going to walk Ume—Satoru, on the other hand, needs at least helmet”

“Oooh, is there a special helmet just for me?” Satoru chides in, his towering height skips him the need to lean over your or your sister’s shoulder by looking over your heads instead.

“ No . Although I probably should’ve with that big head of yours…” she snickers as she reaches for the nearest helmet. A black colored one of a matte material with light scratches on the top, revealing heavy usage.

If this wasn’t enough to dictate that the helmet was hers, the peculiar sticker of a sunflower on the left side would.

“This is mine—hold it for me?” she says, handing it over to you as she reaches for the next one, this time, with less signs of wear, barely visible unless inspected with a magnifying glass, almost as if it was taken straight out of the box, but with another noticeable sticker on the left side: a lotus . “And you’ll wear this one”

“Oh, is this Ren’s?” Satoru asks upon noticing the flower “It looks quite big, are you sure he doesn’t have a bigger head?”

“ Ha!” Hinata chortled “The nerve to say that, when it’s impossible to ignore that nest of birds you have on your head”

“Hey! My hair is well groomed, must you know” he attests “It’s quite popular with the girls”

“You have no game, Satoru. I’ve seen it. You’re lucky I’m forced to marry you”

“See? It worked”

“You two already bicker like a married couple” you murmur under your breath. What you thought to be a comment for yourself ended up being heard by the couple before you, making Hinata's face twist into one of surprise and embarrassment whilst Satoru’s beams into one of a cheerful grin.

“We do not!” she cries back, face now ruby red “How can you side with Satoru, Y/N?! My own sister!”

“Hey, hey! I’m not siding with anyone!” You laugh nervously. 

“Oh, you wounded me, Y/N-chan! How am I to overcome this painful betrayal, how am I to move forward with my life, knowing that my cute sister-in-law rejects my relationship with her own sister? A place in her family? What will the Gojo’s say once they learn that the L/N don’t want me anym—"

«Oh, god» It’s now your turn to feel the embarrassment «They’re both so dramatic!» 

“Anyways” You cough, setting a distraction to distance yourself from this act “Is there anything else that we need to get?”

Hinata snaps out of her trance and plunges back into recollecting the rest of the stuff, zeroing on getting everything ready to continue on with her plan, almost as if she were trying to avoid the fact that she’d blushed because of Satoru…

Either way, it’s no use to dwell on what’s basically assumptions, and once everything was set, the trio make their way out of the storage room and onto the far side of the room that once opened, revealed a breathtaking landscape of a warm summer day; an ocean of green leaves and fragrant grass, all underneath a cloudless sky.

And in the distance, the presence of a small wooden barn can be seen, which is possible to be reached thanks to the connecting stone path.

It’s been so long since you’ve seen this part of the estate that you can’t help but be captivated by its natural beauty—a scenery so astonishing, you’d almost find it pitiful that it would be the stage for Hinata’s hidden motives.

Moving forward, the group follows down the designated road and onto the stable, where Hinata decides it appropriate to begin gearing up..

“Y/N had a helmet, right?” Satoru asks as he places the helmet on his head, immediately feeling that it needed adjustments—something that he took as your brother having a much bigger head, a petty remark that remained in his mind as to bring it up later and torment your sister with it. “If so, what sticker does she have?”

“I did, but I never placed a sticker on it” you respond, helping him adjust the straps on his helmet.

“We had different colored ones back in the day” Hinata explains “Mine was yellow”

“And mine was [favorite color]” you add.

“It’s easier to find more… attractive helmets when you’re gearing a younger rider, I don’t know why they turn monochromatic when it’s for bigger sizes—adults just have to make everything so dull ” Your sister complains “And custom made are so expensive, that’s why I just place a sticker on it! At least it keeps the fun, you know?” she taps at the sunflower sticker.

“I guess…?” Satoru raises an eyebrow, only boring adults like her could find fun in such a thing “Anyways, why won’t you join us today, Y/N? I’m sure you’re much better than me”

“I never liked doing this because I always felt like I was going to fall, or worse, get stomped to death. I only did this once with my mom, and I had enough” your mind goes back to the picture your father took of that fateful day your mom placed you on top of Ume, the same one you were crying your heart out for sitting on top of a huge animal.

The one that you’ve kidnapped from the family album and stored it away from any prying eyes, secured in one of the many cabinets in your room.

“Wait, what?! Stom—stomped to death?!” He replies with a cry “Don’t make me nervous Y/N! Does that mean I’m going to fall?!”

Hinata can’t help but roll her eyes at his evidently fake reaction. The cynicism of him.... It makes her wonder how the inner mind of the great Gojo heir works if he’d only started worrying about that now .

“No, you won’t. Because you’re going to ride with me” she declares, having adjusted her helmet long ago whilst Satoru was panicking.

“W-what?” Satoru stammers, and when he once felt despair, there was nothing but relief, for his savior, Hinata L/N, had come to his rescue with a suggestion that implied more than she was letting on.

A gesture that he considered so… intimate, loving, that he couldn’t stop his cheeks from burning “Oh, Hina-chan… I—I don’t know what to say… that’s so unexpected and… romantic…”

“Stop it!” Hinata shrieks, putting a halting screech to his shojo-like fantasy “I’m only doing so because I don’t trust you with the horses!”

“Sure, sure” Gojo dismisses, looking away as a pout forms on his lips “I too would be shy if I were to be close with my beloved…”

“Alright, sure, whatever you say Satoru, just put the helmet on!” Hinata huffs and heads into the stable.

All that she wants to do is leave Satoru’s antics behind and move on with his plan, and what better way to relax her than personally greeting each and every horse inside the stable, by gently patting their manes and doting on them?

And she did just that, sharing her limited amount of minutes between each and every single one, commending their good health as well as their responsive nature, which had been the same adoring one she’d given them.

She continued to do so, that is, until she came face to face with the one that held a special place in her heart, the one that she considers part of the family, her favorite, the one and only…

“Ume!” Hinata bubbled as soon as her eyes landed on the familiar figure of the brown horse came into view, carefully skipping ahead (so as to not alarm the more sensitive horses) towards her and lunging over to hug her neck once in her grasp.

“Oh, Ume, how have you been?! It’s been so long since I last saw you! I hope the caretakers have been treating you well” Hinata reflects on all the time she’s spent away due to school and overall life as a sorcerer. She likes it, but she regrets the fact that she can’t be with her family as much as before.

And it seems that the horse feels that way, because Ume responds by neighing and eagerly brushing her neck against your sister.

“I miss you too” she says, carefully placing her fingers on her mane and petting her “And guess what? We’re taking you out today! On a stroll! Are you excited?” 

Ume neighs once more, seemingly understanding your sister’s words, out of excitement. It’s been so long since she was taken out, at least by one of the L/N siblings, and she can’t wait to spend this wonderful day with either of them.

“Y/N, can you pass me the bridle?” Making haste of her time, Hinata asks you as she points to a nearby depot just a few feet away from her location, where you’re able to instantly spot the requested item. “And the leather reins as well”

“Sure” you nod, heading over to complete your request and head back over to your sister.

At the closeness between you and the mare, you inevitably lock your eyes onto Ume’s. 

A normal, mundane gesture that passes unnoticed by Hinata, but not for you as you suddenly feel a shift it the atmosphere, and not exactly one that you’d call ideal.

From feeling comfortable, perhaps a bit like a fish out of water for it had been so long you’ve been there, you start to feel tense…endangered.

All because your mind believes to be seeing Ume looking straight into your soul, decisively, intimidatingly wondering whether to bite your hand off or stomp you to death…

Thoughts that become ludicrous as soon as Ume stretches over to your direction, using the tip of her head to reach as far as she can, in hopes that you’d pet her too.

“Aw, look! Ume wants you to pet her” Hinata notes, and at the sudden gesture, you retract away from her. “Don’t be like that, just place your hand on the top of her head and you’ll be fine”

“Don’t push it, sis. I’m already doing too much out of my comfort zone by talking her out on a stroll…” you murmur, and Hinata sighs.

“Alright, can’t deny that” She says, looking back at the horse “My sister is a bit afraid of you, but there’s nothing to fear, right? You would never hurt her”

You looked away, feeling a bit embarrassed for how grossly sweet she was talking to Ume, leading you to land your eyes on Satoru, which you expected to see twisting his lips into a grimace of revolt or disgust, perhaps even a smirk of mockery towards your sister.

However… none of that was to be found, and instead, he remained… serious while intently looking at your sister.

There were moments where you’d forget that even with his… aggravating nature, he was still capable of being a decent human being when it came to personal matters. 

Ume had remained off limits when it came to his jabs, for he knew what she represented when it came to your mother, thus, he limited himself to solely observing his surroundings.

However, that wouldn’t last long once Hinata handed you a prepared Ume and made way towards the next horse.

One that demonstrated that Ume was being anything but intimidating.

“We’re taking Dio today”

It was at this moment that you knew that Hinata was planning something serious.

“Dad’s horse? That Dio?” the way your voice frets makes the alarms in Satoru’s head go off.

“Wait, that means something?” He asks.

“No, of course not” Hinata protested, hurrying to keep her cover, which was almost revealed due to your quick observation “Y/N just… doesn’t like that horse in particular, right?”

“I mean… I’m not fond of many…?” you falter, and your act unknowingly convinces Satoru to not give your question any more attention than necessary.

“I just wanted to try something different” Hinata explains “It’s been a while since I took him out for a ride, and dad asked me to take him out so… why not?”

For a wide variety of reasons, you’d wish to say.

Of all horses… Dio was… well, peculiar, to say the least. 

Ever since he arrived at the L/N estate, he had earned quite the reputation amongst habitants and caretakers alike. 

Beginning with the fastest speed and strength of all horses that have ever lived in the stable, as well as being blessed with good genetics that easily earned him the possibility of entering the equivalent of a pageant .

However, his name didn’t strike you as a concern because of his supposed beauty or skills… It was his personality that made you worry.

Dio, the magnificent dark stallion that your father brought as a possible partner for Ume, from the very first day that he arrived, hated every living thing inside the stable. Whenever possible, he’d neigh and startle the caretakers by grabbing the food out of their hands and tossing it away, even attempting to bite them if they got too close!

And let’s not even talk about his failed partnership with Ume, whose gentler nature never allowed them to get along. It got to the point that Ume would run from him the moment she noticed he was near—and with that, any chances to breed foals was effectively discarded.

The only two who had been to tame the beast had been your father, and Hinata subsequently, through much hard work and dedication; his personality became tamer when around them, giving the false impression that he’d calm down, only to be struck by realization by an assassination attempt under it’s hooves.

Thus, a silent agreement came to place, reminding everyone to keep away from him, unless it was Eiichi or Hinata.

Your assumptions of Gojo doing something unthinkable gain more ground by each passing second—but she couldn’t be planning on… murdering him… right?

“Are you sure that’s ok, Hinata?” you whisper over to your sister, low enough to keep away an already nervous Satoru at bay, but loud enough to show your concern. “What are you planning?”

“Oh, nothing” she voices innocently as she proceeds to place the necessary equipment on Dio “That you need to know yet ”

You shiver, and for the second time that day, a sting of fear strikes your body upon hearing her words.

You can see it now, a side of your sister that she rarely reveals to others stepping into the picture.

The mature, always the bigger person aspect of your sister is long gone, and in return, a vengeful one takes its place. One that’s eager to serve justice towards those that wronged her and by all means necessary.

To see her act so secretly, yet evidently threatening…

For the first time in your life, you pity the unsuspecting heir of the Gojo clan.

 

Once both horses and jockeys are set and ready to go, Hinata takes point and leads the group onto a large, spacious area of the meadow, void of any obstacles, to seemingly take the horses into a stroll.

You’d suggested a change of scenery, like going into the trails or even visiting the nearby waterfall.

Although appreciative of your participation, Hinata declines your offer, explaining that going deeper into the nearby forest with an older horse can put them into a difficult situation if Ume got injured, thus, remaining in a somewhat plain terrain where all involved could freely act was the best way to go.

She’d also wanted to keep the majority of control of what she’s going to enact, for the forest offered too many disturbances that could bend her plan in a way that she wouldn’t want to—but she wouldn’t tell you that , of course.

“Do you even know how to get on a horse?” It’s an inquiry that feels inconsequential considering Gojo’s imposing height, but your sister nonetheless finds it necessary to ask him, perhaps out of concern for his safety or Dio’s, your father’s stallion, or to make a mockery of him.

Whatever it was, Satoru responds nonchalantly.

“Just gotta jump on it, right?”

“I hope that wasn’t serious” Hinata raises an eyebrow “Place your dominant feet on this pedal” she points to the one on the right side of the horse “and propel yourself upwards, from there, you should be able to swing your other leg over the saddle with the momentum, and that’s basically it— here, let me do it first, it’ll be easier to help you up”

And before you’re able to react, Hinata was already on top of the horse and sitting on the saddle, just to show the level of comfortability she had in this area of expertise. 

Had it been you trying to get on top, you’d probably still be stuck to the ground, wondering if there was any other way to get there instead of parkouring your way to the top.

Your sister adjusts herself to sit comfortably on the saddle, and once set, looks down to Gojo.

“Here” she says, stretching her arm towards him “I’ll pull you up”

“Am I going on the front, or the back?” he responds. His hand is making way towards Hinata’s, that is, until he feels the heavy gaze of your father’s stallion on him—a piercing look that only warns him to back off. Satoru retracts his hand, and Hinata subtly smiles at the interaction, her plan evidently working.

“The back, obviously” Hinata proceeds to reach out for his hand and pulls him towards her, Satoru inadvertently forced to jump onto the horse, lest he wants to crash into it. “I’m leading the horse”

“Does that mean… I’ll be… hugging you?” Satoru murmurs, putting on the act of a blushing bride as soon as he realizes the seemingly compromising position he’ll find himself from this moment forward.

“I knew where this was going” Your sister bickers under her breath “You can hold me, or the saddle, whatever makes you comfortable”

“Do you do this often with other men? Do you let them hug you too?” Satoru suddenly asks, jealousy interlaced in his voice—but it’s nothing more than an act, as most things often go with him.

“Do you think I have time to meet other men, with all the work we gotta do?” Hinata frowns. “I wish I could afford meeting someone, maybe they won’t be as annoying as you”

“You can start with Y/N’s friends! I’m sure one of them will catch your interest” Gojo curbs the ball towards you and you flinch. You’ve been so engrossed in their conversation (and avoiding getting eaten by Ume, apparently) that you’d almost forgotten you were there in the first place.

“Hey, don’t bring me, or my friends, into your circus” you chuckle “I’d rather be in my room than here”

“And what for?” Gojo raises an eyebrow “So you can play that new game? All Pokémon games are the same, just with a different cover art”

You sigh, noticing that he was being… uncharacteristically more annoying today, almost as if he were trying to provoke either of you.

You know how bad this would sound if spoken out loud, but you really can’t wait for Hinata to show him his place.

“ Anyways, are you ready?” Hinata asks, carefully placing her hands on the horse's dark mane and petting it. Judging by her gesture, you come to the understanding that in reality the question was intended towards Dio, and not Satoru. Not that the last would’ve known or care due to the way he responds soon after.

“Yep” He grins, giving her a thumbs up “Locked and loaded, whenever you’re re—”

Hinata doesn’t even allow him to finish his sentence before she swiftly whips the leather reins against the horse, the third call for the star of the show to start its performance.

There’s no preparation, no warning, not even a second to breathe, nothing that could help Satoru cope with the fact that your sister had planned on startling him—no, scratch that, frighten him by the stallions impressive reach to stop speed in less than a second,  leaving nothing but a cloud of dust and your startled face as testimony of their presence.

It’s only a matter of seconds before Satoru’s shrieks become apparent, his voice traveling alongside the wind to warn each living existence of his great dislike of the equestrian activity.

You’d muffle your laugh, thinking of his reaction to be nothing more than outrageous. Who’d think that the man who always tried his hardest to look cool and dark would really let himself go like that? It’s a memory that will always be ingrained in your mind, one that you’d be able to bring in the future as blackmail, and you’re eternally grateful that Hinata brought you to witness it!

“Holy shit, Hinata!” You laugh, unsure if she’d be able to hear you but you still go on anyways “Was this your plan all along?! To scare Satoru??” 

“Yes!!” Hinata chortled back, a reaction that only made Gojo scream louder “It’s been my plan ever since!!”

“Hinataaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!! Stop!! Stop!! ” he wails, pushing his head against your sister’s back as he attempts to hold on tighter to her, seemingly feeling the speed of the stallion grow impossibly faster and faster; was this even possible, or was it the adrenaline pumping in his veins that made him believe so?!

And to make matters worse, it seemed that the horse was also enjoying making Satoru suffer from the way it would jolt and rattle from time to time, movements that would earn him an additional streak from the white-haired man, a reward likened to applause for the performer.

All of this made Satoru wonder if even the horse was on board with the plan! Did Hinata and the stallion plan this?

And by the way you laughed, were you also knowledgeable of this?! That’s why you did nothing to stop her—even though you hated it as much as him?!

But those were subjects that would remain unsolved as Hinata made hasty work of her equestrian knowledge to push Gojo onto a new level of fear, doubled down by a now revealed cause.

“This is what you get from that time in the forest!” she hisses as she continues to gallop across the meadow “You—your little prank gave me a rash that I couldn’t cure for days!!”

But Gojo, as much as he wanted to respond and explain that it was never meant to get to that level, can’t do much through his pumping heart and deafening screams but murmur prayers for all of this to end.

“And to think that Geto was behind it too! I can’t believe I trusted you both! ” She condemns “Geto was lucky to sense I was planning something when I invited him over, but you didn’t! Because at the end, even after you brag yourself to be some almighty being, the strongest... you’re really, really stupid!!” she concludes with a victorious laugh. “I win this time!!”

To say that Hinata was drunk in arrogance was an understatement, however, it was with a somewhat justifiable explanation.

Before she’d fallen into this pit of overconfidence, she was disappointed. Very disappointed. She thought that by entering jujutsu high, things would start to change—after all, everyone that enters that school knows they’re on their way to becoming professional sorcerers, thus, a level of maturity is expected… right?

But she was to be slapped across the face with the harsh reality that not everyone was to be as dedicated as her—or stuck-up, as Satoru would call her— and if anything, this was just like any other school environment, with brash and careless students that just wanted to enjoy their youth, and not worry about the future!

A statement that became evident when these two goofballs did what they did.

Nevertheless, far from harboring feelings towards the perpetrators, she held them towards herself, for thinking that these dorks would know anything about common sense and respect.

Well, she knew she couldn’t expect much from two boys that thought of themselves as men. And if that’s how they wanted to play, then that's what she’ll do.

With much reluctance, she’d lower herself to their level and prove to them that even by playing by their rules, she’s still better.

And after careful planning and rehearsal, she finally did it.

It might not have been as hazardous as the one he performed on her, but it’s sufficient enough to give him the message that she’s not going to take it anymore—and certainly not from him!

This moment might go down as a short-lived, countable victory against him, but it’s one that she’ll make the most of—Hinata will never make him forget it.

“Wait, Hina—Hinata!!” Gojo continues to yell, hands now scrambling from your sister to the saddle as they precariously searched for a beacon of stability to uphold his stance on the horse, but because the jockey had resorted to exploit a combination of bumps and speed to disturb her companion as much as possible, Satoru was left with hopelessness and a continuation of his shrieks.

“Hinata—Hinata wait!” He’d gasp, throat hoarse as he’d envisioned one of his worst fears coming true ”I think I’m going to—”

You might’ve not been close enough to hear the rest of his yells, or make out through his lips if he’d said anything else to your sister, but even at your distance and inexperience, you were still capable to distinguish that the way he was quivering on the saddle was not normal by any means. 

And by the way his body was struggling to keep up with your sister’s agile friskiness, as well as him continuously failing to find a secure spot to hold on to, it was only natural that disaster would ensue.

Hinata had long crossed the limit where her prank was no longer fun, and noticing that she was too deep into her revenge to care what was happening behind her, it was decided that you needed to step in.

“Wait, Hinata!” You cry, waving your arms in the air while attempting to move somewhat closer so she could either hear or see you better, but with enough care to not let go of Ume or startle her.

Unfortunately, it seems that your mother’s prized mare was also aligned to Hinata’s intentions, for she doesn’t move more than an inch upon sensing the your harsh pull on her reins, misjudging it as an act of aggression and retaliating by pulling back against you “Not now Ume! I need to stop Hinata!— Hinata!! ”

You cry harder, but it’s too late. When your sister finally decides to turn around and tend to the reason for your call, Satoru was already leaning over to the side, and before you can warn her to help him, his body hits the ground.

The loud thud is enough to snap Hinata out of her vengeful trance, and with her quick thinking and extensive knowledge of the activity, she efficiently avoids any further damage to the young man by guiding the horse away and preparing the horse to slow down.

“Satoru!” Hinata gasps, sternly pulling on the reins “Yield!”

The majestic stallion eventually comes to a complete stop. Hinata  expeditiously jumps down from the saddle and rushes towards Satoru’s crouching body, who was tightly embracing one of his arms against his chest as he wept out of pain.

“Satoru, Satoru, can you hear me?” Hinata manages to ask through the thundering noise of her heartbeat in her ears as she carefully moves closer to him “Satoru, are you ok?”

“I—Hinata…I—I think I broke  my arm” He weeps and Hinata’s blood runs cold as fear instantly settles in the very fabric of her core.

Her vision blurs as the consequences of her actions begin to unfurl before her, but she doesn’t let this happening to extend more than necessary. 

She needs to focus on the emergency before her, and she needs to do it now .

“Y/N! Get the doctor!!” She cries as she wipes away the sweat from her forehead—Hinata’s desperation has her wishing she could move Satoru onto the estate and get him the help he needs, but she knows best to not move the patient unless the professional allows it, thus, she’s forced to voice her frustration onto you “ Hurry!! ”

Knowing well that time is of the essence in these urgent matters, you make haste to tie Ume onto a nearby wooden post so as she wouldn’t run away (although her old age wouldn’t permit it anymore, but you weren’t to take any risks) before sprinting back into the estate, crying and demanding for the family doctor to be called immediately, giving no further explanation to members of your clan whom grew worried upon seeing your pale face, aside that you needed the professional quickly.

Sumire, your closest friend, seemingly apparated herself out of nowhere and onto your side after briefly hearing the whole commotion from just a few rooms away—and unlike the rest of the habitants, she doesn’t ask anything, she simply reaches for the phone and calls the doctor.

“What happened?!” Sumire cries as the phone begins to ring, hands trembling as a million of terrible scenarios flash across her mind  “Are you ok? Is Hinata-sama ok?!”

“Yes, yes we’re fine but… Satoru… he’s not!” You whimper and the revelation of the Gojo heir suffering a deadly injury is enough for her blood to run cold as well.

Once the doctor is on the other side of the line, Sumire urges him to come as quickly as possible to tend to an emergency. Luckily, for the man who had labeled himself to be just a phone call away (also known as the nearby village), wasted no time to confirm his presence there and hung up.

It goes unsaid that the main motivator for him to not ask for any more details was that the L/N clan was one of his highest paying clients, meaning that if you or anyone from the house needed him, he’d be there in a matter of seconds, just like what happened soon after he’d received your call, making way to your home’s main entrance, where you and Sumire barely greeted him before hurrying him towards his patient, who remained on the ground loyally accompanied by your sister who tried to ease his worries by reassuring him that the doctor was on his way.

Due to his many years of experience, the doctor only needed a brief inspection of Satoru’s arm to confirm his dreadful assumption, which places the last nail on Hinata’s coffin of regret and sorrow.

However, bureaucracy was still needed to make this statement official, thus, once he declared it was safe to move Satoru into a more appropriate setup, you, your sister, and Sumire carefully transferred him into the ambulance previously called by the doctor and transferred him into the nearest hospital with utmost secrecy—as much as it was allowed—for Satoru requested this matter to be kept a secret until he decides whether to tell the elders of his clan what happened… or not.

In any other circumstances, such as pertaining to jujutsu matters like a mission or a school assignment, that would’ve been the first course of action. But because the precede of his injury had been in an informal setting, and of petty revenge… it was a matter that had to be taken care of delicately. 

Thus, it was agreed between everyone present that this be to be kept a secret, at least until everything cooled down. The servants that heard of the commotion, but not witnessed it directly, were also tasked to feign ignorance. 

And now that all that was set… Hinata now had to face the consequences of her actions.

“How… bad is it?” Hinata asks for the nth time during that visit. The doctor has grown rather… annoyed by her repetitive inquiries, but just as stated before, because her family is one of the best paying ones, he doesn’t show his irritation. 

“If he rests, I presume he’ll heal at around 6 weeks the earliest” The doctor reiterates as he continues to set the last adjustments of Gojo’s cast—the x-ray that was performed at the hospital confirmed the status of his broken bone and it’s severity, thus, the necessity of such a procedure. Another symbol that will forever haunt Hinata for her ill decision making. “It’s very important that he doesn’t do anything that might stress the arm, for it might not heal appropriately”

Hinata swallows, succumbing deeper and deeper into the pit of her regret, which only becomes darker as the doctor continues to explain Satoru’s situation, who, in return, has kept quiet in the face of pain, and possible anxiety for not being able to live out his life as he’d done up to that point.

The only thing that keeps both of them at ease is that they won’t go back to school until roughly 6 weeks, meaning that they will be able to keep this little incident a secret from the prying eyes of Jujutsu HQ, and their friends… because if any of them got word of this, it would travel around Japan like a wildfire, and by then it would be too late to make any excuses to cover it up.

That is, of course, unless they’re assigned missions…

Anyways, Satoru really couldn’t care less about facing the elders. If anything, that’s an affair that he considers even more tiresome than having to go to the hospital, get his arm checked, and stay at the L/N estate until it heals. If anything, he could take this whole thing as a sort of vacation from his clan! 

Ah, if only you and your sister could have this  naïve optimism.

“He’ll be able to leave the hospital in a few hours after we get his health insurance info and invoice ready”

“Oh, um, that’s fine” Hinata says in behalf of Satoru “Since I’m his fiancée I’m entitled to have all that information, just give me a few seconds and I’ll bring them to you”

“If that’s the case, you can just mail them to me and we’ll work from there”

And with that, the days seemed to pass awfully, regretfully slow, specially for Hinata, whom upon receiving Satoru in her house, has spent most of her time actively trying to avoid facing him at all costs, shamefully reprimanding herself for allowing such childish revenge to get the best of her and subsequently get him injured.

Her predicament worsened when the truth of his actions was brought to the Gojo’s and the L/N’s attention, earning her an earful from both, which was abruptly ceased thanks to Satoru’s and Eiichi’—your father’s—intervention.

The first argued that this was none of their concern, for it was only an incident and that Hinata wasn’t acting with the set intention of hurting him, while the last defended that they were simply spending time together in order to bond, as the couple they were to become in the future, and given their expected lifestyle, it was only a matter of time before one of them got injured.

However, your father would secretly confide to you that he was somewhat pleased with Satoru’s current predicament, for he never liked how rough his future son-in-law could be with you and your sister. Maybe this would give him the understanding to control himself… and now that women should be treated gracefully, displaying how oblivious he was at the fact that your sister was the one that got him in this entanglement in the first place.

As time passed, Satoru began to notice that Hinata was trying to avoid him, and would attempt to work a cheerful way to approach her, as well as you so that neither would remain gloomy all the time. After all, who looks forward to spending the summer with a broken arm and no friends? No one, that’s who.

But it didn’t work—Hinata would continue to ignore him, sharply turning around whenever seeing him on the other side of the hall and going the opposite direction. 

And you… well, you’d kept rather quiet about the whole ordeal. The only times you tried to talk to your sister and reassure her that it wasn’t her fault that this happened, she would only tell you that she shouldn’t have done anything in the first place and exit the room.

You’d continue to approach her, but it was all for naught as their relationship seemed to become more and more distant with each passing day, making you believe that perhaps the only time they’ll ever talk to one another is when they’re exchanging vows on their wedding day. 

Well, just because your sister doesn’t want to talk to him anymore doesn’t mean you should do the same. 

Satoru needed support in this difficult time, thus, hoping to make his day more entertaining, you decide to bring him one of the consoles you believe to be his favorite—a PlayStation 2— with a few games, and set it up in his room. Although you briefly stopped yourself from time to time, wondering if he’d be able to do much due to his cast. Well, intentions are what always mattered anyways. If not, he can see you play.

Asides from trying to make his days more distracting, you were also looking for alternative options to speed up his healing process, such as contacting Shoko. 

You knew this was going against the initial agreement between Satoru and your sister, but you really couldn’t stop from feeling miserable at their obvious distancing, or the pause his life had to make, and hoping to mend things between them, you thought that getting Shoko involved would be a good option.

Maybe your sister just needed to see Satoru all healed up to finally get over that emotional blockade she’d set between the two, leading to the two of them to talk about everything that happened, and before you know it, things will be back to normal!

A plan that was never set to occur, for Shoko had informed you that she unfortunately lacked the preparation to reconstruct bones with her technique, citing “I’ll only learn how to do that in medical school, and I have yet to graduate jujutsu high so… yeah. Besides, this experience will help Satoru build character” and that’s how your conversation with her ended.

“Ah, well… it’s not good to expect Shoko to cover up for all injuries” you conclude as you walk towards Satoru’s temporary room, attempting to comfort yourself “She deserves to enjoy her holiday as well, besides, if the doctor said it’s nothing too critical, his body should be able to do the work on it’s own”

You eventually reach the familiar guest room door, and while carefully balancing the console and controller on your other hand, you proceed to slide the door open, silently to not rattle Satoru awake if resting, or just to not seem disrespectful of his privacy.

However, the sight that received you was far more extraordinary than anything you would’ve expected.

It was so shocking, that all you could do as a reaction is drop the items into the ground, the sonorous crash ringing in your ears, as you exclaim:

“SATORU?!—Wha—Wha—How…. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

How do you even begin to describe what you say?

Satoru, in all of his glory, is laying on the floor, watching some random show on the T.V. before him—which was one of the first things he requested as soon as he moved into the guest room— while eating one of the snacks you presume some of the servants have brought moments before.

By a simple glance, it was nothing uncommon. An ordinary day for the injured Satoru.

However, here’s the catch. The reason why you were so startled in the first place.

He was resting on his seemingly injured arm… without a cast. 

Having been startled by the sound of the crashing console and your shrilling call of his name, the man wastes no second to hurriedly push himself up from the ground and nervously grin, the expected reaction of one being caught in the act. “Oh, hey Y/N-chan!” he calls, voice trembling as he walks towards you in an effort to explain himself, if such a thing was even possible.  “It’s—It’s a miracle! My arm is cured!”

“Cut the garbage! What is going on?!” You snapped, slamming the door behind you to avoid any onlooker setting their eyes on this… undesirable scenario until you get a proper explanation, and cornering him back to his spot.

There’s no way this was a dream, for the thunderous thud of the console against the tatami floor was enough to snap you conscious. There was no possible way that he would’ve healed this fast, 2 weeks into his injury.

That is… no, did he… could it be that he developed another technique?!

What?! Of course not! And even if he did, why did he remain quiet?!

Unless…

This was all a lie to begin with?!

“Does Hinata know about this?!” You cry “Does she know you—” he abruptly silences you by placing his hands over your mouth.

“No, of course not!” He whispers. “And you must promise me she won’t know!”

“Adnh wky wl aa gre t tht?” you groan. Satoru silently mouths a small o and proceeds to remove his hands from your face.

“Oh yeah, sorry—say that again?”

“And why would I agree to that?!” You hiss, and in less than a second he attempts to push his hands over your mouth once more, but unwilling to act as his fool, you move away from him. 

“Keep it down, Y/N!” he warns, seemingly wanting to discuss this secret in secrecy. “Or I won’t tell you anything”

“...Fine” you groan, begrudgingly accepting his conditions with a pout. “What the hell is going on, Satoru? And why doesn’t Hinata know about this?!”

“Because she can’t! That’s the best part if you ask me, she hasn’t figured out anything at all!” He beams, clearly proud of his… fiasco? “All according to plan”

“Huh? Wait—waitwaitwaitwait, all according to plan?” you interrupted “What do you mean according to plan?!?” “Oh yeah, right—guess the cat is out of the bag” Satoru says, going back down to the futon, patting on an empty spot before him, as if inviting you to sit down beside him. You’re hesitant to accept, but the shock of being bombarded with this new version of the truth is enough to push you down and relax. “So… where do I begin?”

“From the start!” you smack him in the arm “Was this all fake?! Were you even hurt?!”

“Ouch—Kind of!” he attempts to cover himself from your sharp blows, only to end up chuckling when he realizes they're weaker than he expected—enough motivation for you to try harder; and you accomplish so successfully “Ouch!” he releases a genuine whine followed by an attempt to cower from your attacks, which only stopped after you deem the message to have been clear. ”Ok, fine—You see… It all started a long time ago, after your sister and I went on a mission with our classmates. It was quick and easy, nothing much to worry about, that is, until the incident happened. But that doesn’t matter either! It was just a little prank, so we mo—”

“Uh, incident ?” you cautioned skeptically “What incident? What the hell did you do to get my sister so angry in the first place??”

“Oh, she hasn’t told you? Guess that’s a story for another day” Gojo winks, and you’re more than ready to demand an explanation from him, but before you’re able to jump on his case, he continues on with this fanciful retelling of the facts. “Anyways, I moved on from the prank, we all did actually. I don’t think it was that serious, but your sister however… did not. When I noticed that she started acting weird towards me and Geto, that’s when I knew that she was planning to do something”

“And you never thought of apologizing for whatever you did, instead of assuming she was fine with it?” you frown.

“I mean—Now that you put it that way I feel kinda bad! But she went on with the prank anyways, so can you blame me for her holding onto grudges??”

“That still doesn’t explain how you knew she was going to do this ”

“I’m just that good” A confident demeanor emanates from his voice, but you’re not easily impressionable, less with the man who was torturing your poor sister with guilt, and he’s quick to catch on. “Fine, I might’ve slowly planted the idea in her mind”

“What do you mean?”

“I knew she wanted to do something to get back at me, but in order for me to still have the upper hand in this prank war I needed it to be something I could control but was alluring to her too, thus… whenever I could, I would bring up that I really disliked horse riding!”

His mind takes him back to an ordinary school day, one that saw them receiving a handful of math assignments —since jujutsu high was still expected to teach them “ normal ” classes like any other school— to finish that day.

Finding this to be his cue, Satoru proceeds by quickly browsing through the seemingly endless pages with an uninterested facade he considered very convincing, followed by an obnoxious groan that allows him to sell the part of lazy student to both the teacher before him, and your unsuspecting sister.

“Man, this sucks! Thousands of math problems to solve in less than an hour? Why do we have to do this? We’re going to be sorcerers!” Satoru would protest, tossing the papers down onto his desk “Well, at least it’s not horse riding, I'd much rather do this than that ! Talk about being boring…”

The teacher wasted no second to reprimand the young man for his frivolous reaction and unwanted commentary, a moment Hinata took to silently eye him and astonishingly wonder how he managed to make such a comparison—one thing was clearly out of the other’s league!

And while she might’ve thought of this as an unprecedented happening, Satoru was enjoying the first signs of a successful manipulation.

“Or like the other time we were classifying curses and I compared the smell of one of the curses to a horse! You should’ve seen the look on her face! If looks could kill…” Satoru sighs, like an old man remembering the golden days of his life. “When I eventually received her call inviting me over to the estate, I knew she’d taken the bait, and from there, the rest is history!”

“Uuuuhhh, I think you missed a few steps there, Satoru” you pointed towards the arm that, until a few minutes ago, you believed to still be broken. The biggest plot hole in his retelling “What about your arm? We were there when the doctor said you broke it, we saw the x-rays too!”

“All fake” he states matter-of-factly. “Everything”

“Wait, does that mean you… you somehow involved the doctor?!”

“Yep! I called him a few days before and let him know what I was planning to do, he obviously rejected my idea, but after I managed to convince him with a generous price, he agreed to it almost immediately!” Satoru beams, as if bribing a medical professional was something to brag about. “Although he did make me promise that I wouldn’t reveal his involvement in this, or he would get fired… Anyways! I wanted to bring in my own doctor, an actor actually, to avoid all that stuff, but I thought it would be more convincing if I brought along a familiar face”

“And what if I decided to call another doctor? The hospital, hm? Wouldn’t that mean your little plan was going to fail?”

“I planned ahead for all possible outcomes, I managed to get all the contacts of other doctors that had tended your family in the past, as well as the local hospital! There was no way I would allow this to fail”

«Satoru has too much money in his hands—money that he should be using for something better!» you quietly conclude at the ridiculousness of his commitment. «And yet, it still doesn’t explain why his arm is not broken!»

“What about the fall? You couldn’t have faked that—if anything, you couldn’t gotten hurt for real”

“All planned, little sister” he gestures to his cast “Because I am someone who appreciates the genuineness of a performance, I knew I had to give a convincing act for your sister to believe she’d injured me beyond reasonable doubt! Thus, I prepared myself with all necessary methods to perform a fall without hurting myself! Or keeping it to the minimum if I do get some kind of injury.”

He proceeds to explain that he took a few horse riding classes to familiarize himself with the horse and its movements, as well as how to lessen any chances of injuries if he were to somehow fall, such as switching his body in a certain angle so as to distribute the impact of the fall throughout the protective gear. 

To secure his depiction, he even called Shoko , without giving much explanations of course (for he knew she would tattle tell to Hinata) on what kind of concussions could lead to a broken arm, just so he could replicate them under a safe environment.

And as he continues to explain the intricacies of his malicious plan, you feel yourself being pushed down to the muddy waters of disbelief, still struggling to believe anything of the things Satoru had just confessed to you.

You knew Satoru Gojo to be petty, annoying, arrogant… the host to many negative qualities a man could have.

But this ?

This was on a whole ‘nother level.

He’d really gone out of his way to plan all this just to get back to your sister before she even had the chance to do so herself.

Just when you thought Satoru couldn’t be any more unpleasant, he goes ahead and shows you that he, in fact, can be worse.

“Do you even hate horse riding at all?” you dare to ask, believing that maybe his dislike was also a ruse from the very beginning.

“With every inch of my existence” Satoru admits “It was a very difficult task for me to not bore myself to death when doing all this, but I think it was worth it!” “Why did you even tell me this? What if it was someone else that walked into your room? Was that according to your plan as well?”

“You know I can sense energy, right? I knew it was you from a while ago so I had nothing to worry about—as for your other question… It's quite lonely at the top. I planned all of this in secret, not even Geto knows about it! And I couldn’t bear the thought of someone not recognizing my success, so I decided to tell you” he smiles “You and I are the only ones that know the complete truth”

“That’s awful Satoru! Do you even care for how worried my sister is?? She’s been unable to do anything because she feels guilty for hurting you! She doesn’t even want to see you, but now that all this is a lie—”

“You’re making me feel like a jerk now that you say it that way…” Satoru pouts.

“Good! You should feel bad!” You double down “… The only right thing you’ve done right is when you stepped in for my sister when your family was basically harassing her!”

“And they shouldn’t have gotten involved. Nobody can mess up with my future-wife but me” He frowns.

“…How convenient to call her your wife, as if you hadn’t done what you did” You cross your arms “And now what? I hope you’re planning on apologizing soon”

“I will, I will, but you gotta promise me to not tell anyone! Especially your dad, he’s going to kill me if he learns I’ve been messing around with one of his daughters”

“Nice way to phrase that, champ” you wince in disgust “Fine, as much as I hate your prank and everything you’ve done to my sister, I’ll keep quiet, but only if you apologize”

“Thank you, Y/N-chan! You’re the best little sister I never had!” he lunges forward to take you into his arms, but you move away from him before he can even grasp you with his fingers. He whines in dismay as a bigger pout appears on his lips.

“Get apologizing, or I might even tell Ren about it too” you cautioned.

“Oooooh no, that won’t be necessary” Gojo trembles away from you at the mention of your older brother, who, in his own merit, can just be as frightening as your dad whenever angered. It goes unsaid that of all your siblings, Ren is the one that tolerates him the least.

“I’ll do the right thing now that you’ve made me see where I’m wrong. I mean, I was planning to do so I just didn’t know how to make the grand reveal, but don’t worry about it, I’ll do it!”

You find his response to be… cheesy, to say the least, with the feeling that he was simply playing along with your requests. 

But that’d be the least of your concerns now that everything was revealed (meaning that he wasn’t injured, thank god) and he got what he wanted. From this point forward, all that you needed to do with Satoru was keep a close eye on him and hold him to his word.

Thus, once you made peace with the fact that your brother-in-law was a lil piece of shit, but was planning on apologizing to your sister, you proceed to recollect the items you distraughtly dropped onto the floor after this screeching revelation and handed them over to Satoru, under the excuse that he should be able to set them up himself , now that his “broken” arm was in perfect condition, before waving him a quick goodbye and heading back to your room with the intention of resuming the match you paused in order to visit him.

However, just as Satoru had managed to fool your sister, you had managed to play the fool as well.

When you stood there, listening to him reveal all the details of his preposterous revenge plan, you slowly came to the realization that his transgression, although primarily directed to your sister, affected you as well.

This wasn’t something of a first occurrence—Satoru had gone back and forth with your sister when it came to annoying her and vice versa, however, your sister had always taken the stance of the bigger person and ignored him for most of the part, that is, until she reached her breaking point and decided to do something about it.

Something that fell in her unforeseen failure.

Nonetheless, there is one thing that they never accounted for when they were too entangled in this cat and dog pursuit.

And that was… that you’ve been witness to it all.

You’ve miraculously remained uninvolved in their affairs, allowing you to play the part of bystander, or confidant for when the moment required it, such as today with your sister, who although might’ve not given much detail of what she was planning, she uncharacteristically revealed that she was working on something, or Satoru, who gave you his complete testimony on why —although partially— he did this, and how.

You were treated like an underdog of sorts, a person they consider far out of their circle, someone who is not interested in their lifestyles, thus, not someone worthy to rope into their madness.

Acts that lead them to lowering their guards and becoming sloppy when it comes to guarding secrets around you.

And while their assumption wasn’t that farfetched, as you weren’t really that interested in playing this game of chase they have going on, (or courting, as some weird elders would often describe it as) you couldn’t deny the upper hand this whole incident has given you.

It’s the perfect opportunity to make a plan of your own to make him repay for this little insubordination he’d committed against your sister—against your family. 

Nobody could ever see it coming because they often spent their time underestimating you.

A smile appears on your lips as you set your mind into your new goal.

You’ll take advantage of this unprecedented position for as long as you can, carefully observing the unwary Satoru and exploiting his weaknesses.

You’re in no rush. After all, he’s staying at your house.

And you weren’t empty handed. You had assets to exploit, unaccounted allies such as your best friend Sumire, and your older brother Ren, who you knew would jump at the first opportunity to humiliate Satoru, just as he’d done in the past, to count with.

Oh, he would never expect this from you.

You’ll teach Gojo to not mess up with the L/N clan, that is, unless he’s willing to take the heat.

[divinegrey]

FIRST BLEED - jinx x fem!reader

THE VANISHER SERIES, part 2

part 1 here

reposting this one too! if you haven’t read the first part, highly recommend that you do. it’ll make this one make more sense. onward!

prompt: you aren’t invincible. in a job for silco, you get hurt. luckily, there’s a certain blue-haired woman there to patch you up, for better or worse. 

words: 2222

warnings: blood, cursing, mentions of murder

All you have to do is get in, give the items to Sevika as proof, get your payment, and get out. Easy, right? 

You stand in front of the Last Drop, the neon green lights casting a rather ugly glare on you as you walk to the door. Slowly, you remind yourself, because you are bleeding profusely from a wound on your stomach. While high-tailing some enforcers on the topside for information about the sheriff led you to some great pieces of evidence, the skirmish you found yourself in afterwards was not so great. 

Nobody is invincible. Power is a great shield, but it isn’t the key to immortality. You of all people understand that. 

Doesn’t matter. The job takes precedence. You can stitch yourself up later. You respoture yourself, hoping that the temporary bandage you wrapped around your side and your poncho will disguise any notion of you being hurt at all. Pain is a state of mind you’re more than comfortable existing in. 

None of the residents within the bar spare you a glance. Why should they? You’re a nobody, a straggler down in the depths just like them. Your identity means nothing; your face has no name, and you’re simply another byproduct of Zaun and Piltover’s repeated clashing. 

It’s a shame, sure, but you’ve only lived one other way. You have a past you’d like to not dwell upon. 

With ease, you spot Silco’s right hand man sitting by her lonesome in the corner of the bar, screwdrivers and tools laid out in front of her. She’s clearly tinkering with her robotic arm, a work of art that functions only to the highest degree. The only drawback is that, like everything else in this place, it functions with the help of Shimmer. Without it, Sevika would be carrying around dead weight. 

You hold your head up high and drop a stack of paper onto the table. You ignore the pinching in your side, refusing to even move a hand over it. Sevika doesn’t need to know. 

“That was fast,” Sevika remarks with a drawl to her words. She puts down the flathead and picks up the paper. Her eyes scan over the first few lines. 

“I hope the information is adequate. Half of it was gathered from the personal holdings of the sheriff, others were intercepted messages,” you explain, voice deepened by the mask sealed over the bottom half of your face. Sevika’s eyes flicker to yours. 

“He won’t notice anything’s missing?” 

“No. The intercepted ones are copies.” 

“Good.” Sevika drops the papers closer to her personal belongings. In exchange, she pulls out a sack of coins and slides it your way. You pick it up, calculating the weight of the coins and the bag in your hand. The perfect amount, agreed upon for the information. Sevika looks you over. “Did the enforcers see you?” 

“No.” Why so many damn questions? You didn’t get in a fight with the enforcers— you were gone before they even thought about checking. 

“Delightful,” Sevika’s reply is almost sarcastic. “A drink. On me.” 

You tilt your head at her. “Rain check.” 

“Another job so soon? Might want to consider raising your prices, Vanisher,” Sevika says, grabbing her glass of whiskey to take a sip. She downs the rest of it. “Everybody in Zaun wants your skills.” 

“Everybody who knows me.” You flag down the bartender and make a gesture for him to get another fill of Sevika’s favorite. He nods and you take a few coins of your newly earned payment and place it on the table. “If Silco needs assistance, you know how to find me.” 

Sevika grunts out something between a thanks and a I know. Either or. 

All you really know is that fuck, your pain is getting worse and if you don’t get back to your hideout soon, you might bleed out in an alleyway. A little bit of over-exaggeration on your part, but tracking blood everywhere is not part of your skillset. You leave Sevika to her devices and leave the Last Drop. 

Your walk back to your little sanctuary is quiet. Too quiet. You take a different path home, one with less people. As expected, you notice the sound of metal jingling and heavy boots walking in time with your footsteps. You wear rubber-soled shoes for a reason— silence is a must in your line of work. 

But you keep walking. You don’t try to shake your follower off, because you already know who it is. 

Besides, it was about time you changed locations anyway. 

You pull yourself into your little alcove, hidden away in the walls of the Undercity only accessible from one obvious point of entry (the other is known only to you). There’s a table, a chair, and in the other corner, a bed and a collection of blankets. With a weary, pained sigh muffled by your mask, you lower yourself into the chair. The beloved poncho comes off first, tossed to the side, and you pull up your shirt to find that the wound has reopened and blood is trickling through the makeshift bandages. 

It’s a wonder you managed to keep your composure. 

“You’re hurt.” 

“I’m aware,” you say, grabbing a medical kit from underneath the table. From the doorway to your hideout, Jinx steps in, something like concern in her face, though it can be hard to tell what she’s thinking at any given time. You start pulling off the bloody cloth, sealing your hand over the wound to staunch the bleeding. “You shouldn’t have followed me.” 

“Oh, I think we both know that if you didn’t want me following you, Vanny, you wouldn’t have let me,” Jinx replies, making a gesture with her arms to the mediocre space around her. All the meanwhile, you’re cleaning up the worst of the blood from the wound with clothes soaked in alcohol. It hurts like shit, but what else can get the job done? 

Jinx is right. You let her follow you here. Maybe part of you wanted the company, even if she is witnessing you in such an unfortunate state. 

“The hell did you do to yourself?” Jinx asks, coming closer to see. Her flippant behavior is almost quelled to the point that you think she might be fucking with you, but on second glance, you don’t think she is. She’s genuinely curious. Worried? You don’t want to assume that much. 

Ever since you two talked for the first time on a rooftop on the surface, it’s been different. Many times you’ve gone back there for fresh air— sometimes you’ll run into Jinx, who’s already there, or she’ll be a few seconds behind. Somehow, you both know when to meet there for some company. You like the peace of the night lights, and Jinx… you have a suspicion that Jinx likes having somebody beside her that isn’t someone also in control of her. 

“Got into a fight,” you say, dabbing the wound. It’s a clean cut. Easy to stitch. You look up at Jinx and spot the way her hands are shaking. You don’t comment on it, but rather, explain yourself. “A job for Silco. Extorted some information. Didn’t get caught by the enforcers, but… some calculations didn’t go quite right.” 

“Oh, yeah, I get that,” Jinx says, putting her hands on her hips. She laughs. “When mine go wrong it usually ends up in a bigger explosion.” Her shoulders raise for a brief shrug. “Oh well!” 

“The bigger explosions are better,” you comment. 

“Couldn’t agree more!” 

To your surprise, Jinx grabs the rag out of your hands and—

You don’t realize how gentle she is until you’ve recovered from your initial shock of oh my god, she’s helping you? You? Of all people? You’re left momentarily stupefied as Jinx wipes away the majority of the blood and then grabs the needle and stitches from the medical kit. The way she works is methodical, the eyes of an engineer. 

“Jinx, you don’t have—” 

“I do.” She looks up at you with those blue eyes of hers. “You—” 

You give her time to formulate her words, knowing that Jinx’s mind operates differently from everybody elses. You know there are people haunting her. You have your own demons; you understand to some degree. 

“You’re my friend, Vanny,” Jinx exhales. “You got hurt. I want to… to help. I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

“Look at me,” you ask softly. “Thank you. I’m going to lay down on the table to make it easier.” 

You do as you say, moving the items off of the table so you can lay flat on your back and give Jinx more room to work with. The air is unkind to the open wound, but the bleeding has stopped for the most part. Ordinarily, you’d push anyone away, tell them to fuck off so you can piece yourself together again. 

That’s how you did it when you were younger and operating under your mentor. She vanished, and it left you taking care of yourself. Cleaning every scratch, stitching every gash. Even pulling out stray bullets that landed in your legs or your stomach. Every injury you’ve ever sustained was for the pursuit of your work. Every injury thus far has been necessary. 

Though it doesn’t seem exactly fitting, Jinx straddles your legs, leaning over your stomach to get the right angle. You don’t miss the way her eyes linger on your well-defined abdomen, or how her fingers get more confident as she stitches the cut back together. It’s not great by any means, but if Jinx wanted to help, then who are you to say no to her? 

You’ve learned that, despite her manic tendencies and favoritism towards violence, Jinx has emotions. Complicated, more than you could ever understand in a short time, but you’re the same way. 

It’s terrifying to think that she might be the only person you’d ever consider a friend. You’ve only allies or enemies. Never anything more. Yet she has become the person you play cards with until the early morning, laughing and making jokes about the city that has hated the both of you for so long. 

You restrain a wince when Jinx pulls a stitch too tight. Her focus is borderline alarming, but you have to admit that the way she’s sitting on you is quite nice. You wonder if many people get to see her from this perspective. The line of thought is broken when you feel her hands pressing on your waistline, her eyebrows cinched so tightly together they may as well be one. 

“Hey,” you say, an attempt to bring her back down from wherever her mind has gone. It takes a few tries, but when you finally put your hand on her face, cupping her jaw, she looks at you. Jinx swallows, her throat bobbing harshly. “You did good. It barely even hurt.” 

You sit up, your face closer to hers as you grab a bandage from the kit and put it over the stitches. 

Her hand goes to your forearm. You turn to her gaze and feel the pervasive strength that she holds in such a small frame. 

“Don’t go gettin’ yourself hurt again, Vanny,” Jinx says. “I like you too much to see you bleed out like that.” 

“I’ll try my hardest,” you reply. Wordlessly, you both sink into a tight hug. You’ve come to learn she hugs around the neck, holding your head close to her as if she’s trying to protect it. Almost obsessive, you’d say, but you find that you have no issues with that. In a contradictory manner, you don’t grip her as tightly. You don’t come off as possessive. There’s wiggle room, there’s freedom, but Jinx never takes it. You get the feeling she likes the warmth of your body; it gets cold in the Lanes sometimes, if her shivering is any indication.

Her breathing in your ears is jerky. You counter it with your own, taking long inhales with long exhales to get her to match it. Her body becomes less tense on your own the longer the hug lasts, and you wonder how seeing you hurt affected her to this degree. 

“You can stay, if you would like,” you whisper. “I have some drinks. We still haven’t finished our game of Speed from last time.” 

Jinx pulls away, her hands on the column of your throat. It could be so easy— one twist and your neck would be snapped clean. That would be the end. 

“Really?” She asks, eyes glimmering. 

“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it,” you say. 

You don’t think she would actually do it though. 

“Fuck yes!” Jinx squeals, launching herself off of you. “I’ll be right back! I’m going to go steal some of the good stuff from the Last Drop. Don’t leave!” 

“Not planning to,” you say, leaning back on your hands. Jinx’s grin is bright. Enough to make the Lanes seem less dull. 

Should it be worrying that you’re forming an attachment to her? An unprecedented one? Maybe. Do you care?

Not really. Your mentor isn’t watching your back any more. All you have in your life is work, and then Jinx. Jinx, who makes it better. 

You get down from the table, pull up two chairs, and grab your deck of cards.

~~~~~

A/N: hope you guys liked it! reblogs and likes are appreciated <3

[nikoruistyping]

hi!!! i hate to be THAT person, but i love some angst and crying lol. could you do a tony x f!reader imagine of the moment he snaps his fingers/his death scene? they could be married or just dating wtv! and if you felt like it adding where reader has to tell morgan. i love your writing thus far!!! take your time if you have a bunch of requests lol xxxx

Everybody Dies || Tony Stark

Tony Stark x Wife!Fem!reader

Requested by: @girlllucrazy

Summary: Its the endgame now and after Tony snaps his fingers you heart seems to drop as you spend your final moments with him on the battlefield and once you return home after everything that's happened you have the difficult task of explaining to your daughter what happened to her father...

TW: LOTS OF ANGST AND CRYING, Tiny Crumb of Fluff, Major Character Death/Mention of Death, Mention of a Funeral, Endgame spoilers, Painful goodbyes, Kissing, Minor Suicidal thoughts (no self harm I promise!), 5 Stages of Grief (kinda)

Word Count: 2,621

A/N: GET THE TISSUES READY LADIES, GENTS AND NON-BINARY FOLKS! Having to rewatch this scene for this was actually so fucking painful and I cried for a good 10 mins. I wanted to do somewhat of a rewrite of this part of the movie but adding my own twist and perspective to it so it’s not a carbon copy of what happened. I HIGHLY RECCOMEND EVERYONE LISTEN TO Everybody Dies by Billie Eilish because holy shit that song really got me in the mood to write this and I even added in some references to the lyrics as dialogue. Some honorable mentions for song recommends to listen to while reading are Halley’s Comet by Billie Eilish & Final Lullaby by The Weeknd! Hope you enjoy and hopefully dont cry too much now!

Snap

That's all it took for your life to change in a matter of nanoseconds. The snapping of his fingers felt like it could be heard around the world as everyone on the battlefield had stopped in their tracks as all the aliens had started to turn to dust. In your heart you knew what happened, you just didn't want to believe it, it wasn’t time yet, you kept telling yourself. Your head turned in Tony's direction and without hesitation, the blasters on your iron suit were immediately taking you right to him, flying as fast as you could. In the distance, you could see Rhodey and Peter right by Tony's side, and without even realizing tears were already building up in your tear ducts.

The metal of your suit clunked on the rocks as you landed knowing that this was it, this was going to be his final resting place. You had played this scenario out in your mind almost a thousand times and every day and every night you feared this day would come and now it was finally looking you in the face. Peter was frantically stuttering and speaking to Tony, you walked up to him, slowly your hands placing themselves on Peter's shoulders. You could hear the pain in the young boy's voice while he spoke.

"Sir...you did it...I-I'm sorry...Tony..." His voice was weak and stuttering to find the words to say as he looked at what he saw to be the only father figure in his life just waste away right before his eyes. The boy was devastated and you slowly pulled Peter away as he tried desperately to cling onto Tony's body, trying to spend every dying moment with him before he was completely gone.

Peter moved out of your way tears in his eyes. You slowly kneeled down to look at the sight in front of you. The man you loved was at his limits and you knew that after everything that had happened he was tired. His face sporting burns that were beyond repair and his suit was completely obliterated, the metal burnt and ripped apart. His limp body sat up against the rocks and his arms weak and lifeless, it looked like you were already seeing his dead corpse, the mere image of his body in a casket was flashing through your head. You try to grab his attention knowing he was starting to lose grip of reality and that he was fading in and out of consciousness, he probably could barely hear you but what you had to say needed to be said, or else maybe you wouldn't live with yourself if all you did was just stay quiet and watch him die without having ever said your last words to him.

"Hey..." Your voice whispered to him while you tried to keep your composure from just wanting to ball your eyes out.

His head slowly turned in your direction which put the smallest smile on your face knowing that at least he could hear you clearly. His voice was barely audible, his lips struggling to move.

"Y/N..."

You placed your hand gently on his chest, the neon blue light in the middle of his chest still bright while your hand clutched at the it, hoping, praying, that the little light wouldn't go out just yet. His hand slowly but surely reached to hold yours over his chest and you could feel him weakly clutch around your fingers making sure your hand never left him.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y...?" Your voice was so close to breaking down, you knew what she was going to say but you just had to confirm it and make sure it was really happening.

"Life function critical." That was all the AI could say in response to your question without you even having to specifically ask.

His head slowly cocked to the side as he was able to crack one last smile at you, his face covered in burns, blood, and bruises. The look in his eyes was slowly dying and you could just feel that he was being drained of life, living on borrowed time. By the look he gave you and you gave him, you just knew that "This was it".

"Tony...look at me," The words were barely even able to leave your lips as his head had tried its hardest to turn towards the sound of your voice a husky groan leaving his lips since he had no words left to say.

"We are going to be ok...you can rest now...." You painfully smiled at him as all he could respond back were moans and groans of pain that he was feeling, struggling to stay alive a little bit longer, holding out until you said what you had to say to him.

"I love you 3000..." That was all you could whisper as one of your hands went up to his face touching the side that was still in one piece. Your thumb stroked his cheek and you gently placed your lips on his, kissing him for what you already knew was the last time.

His lifeless lips touched yours and it's as if you breathed in his very last dying breath. You glanced downward seeing the blue light slowly fade to black on his chest and his hand releasing yours dropping down to his side. You pulled away from his lips and tilted your head looking at him. Your vision started getting blurry while the tears started to flow like rivers down your face. Your hands moved to his sides, clutching onto him for dear life, looking down, not fully processing the fact that he was now gone forever. He wasn't coming back and there was no way for you to bring him back to life.

Once you knew he was gone you screamed at the top of your lungs until you barely had any air left to breathe. Your chest heaving up and down between sobs while the tears running down your face felt like oceans now rather than rivers and you pulled his body close to you crying as his lifeless body just laid in your arms. You lost all composure in that one moment, his death finally hitting you as if a train had run you over. Your heart seemed to almost go quiet and stop even as it felt like it left your body completely and died along with him.

The reality of the situation was still kicking in and you stayed by his side for a good ten minutes while all the Avengers had crowded around you, paying their respects to what Tony had given up. People had always thought Tony was a selfish and maybe pretentious asshole but he was the opposite of all of that. He died a true hero who sacrificed his life for the whole universe, what he did was probably the bravest thing you thought possible.

You felt Steve come up behind you, kneeling down to your level and you felt his hand place itself on your own shoulder. You couldn't stop rocking your body back and forth, Tony's limp head laying on your shoulder while you buried your head into his chest crying your eyes out until you could feel them burn.

"Y/N...it's time to bring him home." Steve had muttered underneath his breath as you could hear his voice crack knowing that even Steve of all people was crying for Tony despite the differences they held about one another.

You nodded your head in response as you knew it was finally time to bring him home where he belonged. You had no idea where you found the strength, but you did, lifting up his body and carrying him in your arms while you used the iron suits blasters to fly back through the portal with the others. One of your hands cradled his head close to your chest using your fingers to slowly shut his eyes closed.

"Rest in peace Tony...we’re going home." You had whispered looking at his motionless face, blasting away through the portal carrying him back to Earth.

A Few Days Later...

"Everybody dies" that's what they say. You kept telling yourself everyday that, trying to ingrain it into your brain while you felt the guilt settling in while you kept living and Tony was gone. There wasn't a single moment of everyday that you didn't miss him. His touch, his smile, his sarcastic remarks, his badly burnt omelets and when he would run around the house playing princesses with Morgan. All the happy moments kept flashing in your head as you tried so hard to get a grip on reality again. How were you supposed to live with all this guilt? You needed to stay strong for youself and your daughter but how long was that going to last? How long was this feeling going to linger in your mind? Some days you wanted to end it all, stop the hurting, put an end to the pain you felt throughout your whole body. Was there even a point to being alive when you couldn't be with him? All these questions kept racing through your mind knowing you couldn't leave, not yet. You needed to raise Morgan to be a strong woman, you needed to watch her grow up so that Tony could look down at the two of you from whatever heaven or afterlife there was and be able to see his daughter live a happy life knowing he contributed to the fact that her life could keep ongoing.

Some days you cried, not because of Tony but because of the fact that you now had to live in a world where he wasn't in it anymore. You couldn't go back to having a world where he was there right by your aide, holding your hand through the good and through the bad. There nothing more physically or even scientifically possible for you to do other than cry and come to the realization that this was now your life. You had to live with the pain of not having him at every waking moment. Looking at your wedding ring made tears well up in your eyes as you couldn't stop replaying the day the both of you got married and how it was the happiest day of your life.

You tried your best to be put together for Morgan but there was only so many times that you could keep on hiding your bloodshot eyes from crying so much and having half-assed explanations as to why there were so many tissues littering the floor of your bedroom.

Morgan came running into the living room with a smile on her face going up to you. You caught her in your arms, hugging her close to your chest while the both of you snuggled on the sofa. She was the only thing keeping you together at this point and you always hugged her a little bit tighter nowadays than you had before, you weren't alone, thats what you had to keep telling yourself.

"Hey, how you doing my little she-devil?" You asked in a playful voice, your hands creeping their way up to her little belly tickling her silly.

"Mommy! Mommy that tickles!" Morgan shouted her laugh seemed to fill the room while she squirmed around in your arms.

"Ok, ok I'll stop...maybe." You said wiggling your eyebrows at her as she calmed down from the tickles and was facing you, her large brown eyes looking into yours while you felt your heart just break a little bit more. Every time you stared at her face you couldn't help but pick out all the features she had inherited from her father.

Your face fell flat, the smile slowly fading and she clearly picked up what you were feeling. It wasn't rocket science to know that you were still grieving. Her small little hands squished your cheeks as she asked you the question you were hoping she would never ask.

"Mommy, where is Daddy? You look sad. Daddy always says that you better turn the frown upside down." She said while her fingers pushed and pulled at your cheeks trying to make your frown turn into a smile, moving your lips upward.

"He is um...Morgan, we need to talk. Look at mommy ok?" You said sitting up a bit, your throat already wanting to close up at the fact that you were trying to explain to a five-year-old that her dad died trying to save the whole universe from disappearing.

Morgan also sat up and in your lap facing you, your hand cupped her face. Your other hand holding her tiny one as you tried to find the right words to explain all of this to her.

"Daddy he is in another place right now...a better one that isn't here. He isn't coming back home...I'm so sorry honey," You say pulling her in close for a hug and you could feel her tiny tears staining your sweater as you cradled her in your arms.

"Everything is going to be ok, we are going to be fine. I promise that we are going to get through this...together. We have each other honey." Your words quickly came out, stumbling while you struggled to know what to say and when to say it. You were barely holding on by a thread and how were you supposed to keep it all together for Morgan too?

"So is he really gone, Mommy?" Morgan asked, her face left your chest to meet your eyes and you could have sworn your heart broke all over again, looking at how her eyes seemed to almost grow in size while tears welled up in them.

You just bit your lip at her, nodding, not being able to say anything else as you tried to hold back the pain you felt in your chest all over again.

"It's ok honey...Daddy saved the whole wide world and that's why you and I are able to be here right now. He always will be our superhero, right?" You said trying to offer any or some kind of explanation knowing that Morgan would definitely remember this at some point so you tried to lighten up the mood by booping the tip of her nose.

"Yeah...he was the bestest ever." Morgan said her voice a bit more enthusiastic as you seemed to be trying to cheer her up the best you could and for the first time in a few days you cracked a genuine smile that wasn't just a fake smile but real. You were surprised how well she was dealing with the news, understanding that what Tony did was for the greater good of the world. Little did ypu know Tony already had this talk with Morgan long ago and for a five-year old she was pretty mature, even in death Tony always made sure to have all his bases covered.

"He really was..." You let a stray tear run down your face as Morgan used her little finger to wipe it away for you.

"Please don't cry, Mommy. Daddy always said crying is ugly and will give you wrinkles." She said with a little laugh and you couldn't help but happily laugh alongside her while you remembered how even with a child Tony still found ways to be sarcastic and crack jokes with her.

"I won't, no more tears ok? Pinky Promise?" You said holding out your pinky, Morgan's smaller pinky latching with yours, your hand raking through her brown hair while you smiled at her.

"Are you hungry, Honey? Want me to make you some eggs?" You asked picking Morgan up from your lap and holding her close in your arms as the both of you walk into the kitchen. You seated her on top of the kitchen counter, her little legs swinging off the edge.

"Cheeseburgers!" She excitedly said, her hands raised up into the air cheering.

"Your Daddy loved cheeseburgers...let's celebrate him today, ok?." You said with the faintest smile as you looked at Morgan and thought to yourself, everything is going to be ok.

Rest Well Tony...

Complete Masterlist

Got a Request? Check out my Guidelines!

[bettsfic]

february pinned: the real & the ideal

in this month’s edition of my lowkey writing-related newsletter, in addition to my writing-related post roundup and consultation availability, i have short story recommendations for you and an essay on the nature of reality in fiction! 

if you want to receive my lowkey writing-related newsletter directly, you can subscribe here.

in other news, i finished two fics this month:

digging for orchids (hualian, 43k, explicit, fake marriage au)

let ruin end here (hualian, 8k, mature, neighbors au)

full newsletter below the cut, or you can read it here.

oof,

what a month. january is already a rough time. throwing in a pandemic, a coup, and an economic revolution spearheaded by reddit just seems unfair. as for me personally, the spring semester came at me fast and even though it’s only week 2, i am already buried in grading. which i realize is my fault, considering i’m the one who assigned homework.

so after hearing your feedback, i thought i’d make this newsletter even more writing-related by writing more about writing. this month i’ll start off by talking about the nature of reality in fiction in a segment i call “been thinkin a lot about.” more on that below.

new resource

i’ve compiled a folder of PDFs of the short stories i teach most often, which is to say, the stories i like enough to re-read every semester. most of them are literary fiction but a few veer into fantasy, sci fi, and horror.

i know before the MFA, i didn’t really know what a short story was. like i knew, abstractly, the concept of a short story (it is as it sounds), but i could only list a couple i’d ever read as an adult, and i hadn’t read anything that had been published in the last decade. i remember wondering why i was even being asked to care about short stories. who writes short stories? who reads them? apparently, a lot of people. short storyists are a lot like fanwriters in that they make no money and when you talk about your writing in public, people give you that “why would anyone waste their time with that?” look.

so here’s why i was asked to care about short stories: a good short story gives you the entirety of a world in a very condensed space. moreover, it can sometimes leave you as satisfied as a novel in a fraction of the reading time. all the stories i’ve compiled here are ones that stuck with me, that i find myself recommending over and over to writers who want a good example of developing character, or weird narration, or establishing stakes.

if you’re a writer considering publication or an MFA in creative writing, i highly recommend familiarizing yourself with short stories, if for no other reason than to get the feel for them so you can write some of your own. if you can get a few short story publications under your belt, it’ll be easier to open doors when you’re ready to query agents for a novel. also, short stories make a great writing sample for grad programs, workshops, fellowships, residencies, and grant funding.

if you want to check out more short stories but have no idea where to start, the 2020 best american short stories just dropped in november, or if you want a cheaper one, used copies of 2019 and earlier are available on thriftbooks. if you want an overview of the history of the (american) short story, there’s also the best american short stories of the century. fair warning, though, while it’s more diverse than expected, it’s still a bit heavy on dead-white-dude writing.

content warning: the stories in the above-linked folder may depict instances of sexual assault, suicide, and/or abuse. i have not labeled them individually with warnings but i hope to soon, as well as provide a catalog with summaries.

i’m also still working on my essay and novel recs. more to come on that hopefully next month.

writing-related posts

how i quit my banking job to do a creative writing MFA

how i learned to read faster/stop subvocalizing

how to write when you have no time or energy to write

my experience writing fic in small/dead fandoms (aka fics that will probably not get any traffic)

how to describe facial expressions

how to ask for help from your professors

how to navigate tenses during flashbacks

how to separate yourself from your work

how (and why you might want to) write a shitty first draft

why you should consider making the climax the inciting incident

for a complete list of my writing-related posts, check out this masterdoc (which i still need to update it with the past few months’ posts).

stuff i’m into rn

i’m about halfway through the rhetoric of fiction by wayne c. booth which has more or less become my narrative bible. it’s a little dated (1961) but it tackles banal writing adages that are somehow still believed, like “show don’t tell” and whatnot, and breaks them down with amazing insight, clarity, and research. it’s a bit of a dense text so i’m only reading a few pages a day, i think the first time i’ve ever let myself read something so intentionally slowly. now i’m kind of obsessed with doing things slowly. reading slowly, writing slowly, cooking slowly. i even drive slowly, because it’s so rare to go anywhere at all, and i want to enjoy it. also, it’s very snowy where i am. also also, the battery died in my car this month and i really have to make it a point to drive more often.

february availability

i have 2 openings for initial writing consultations in february! if you’re interested, please fill out this google form.

you can learn more about my services on my carrd.

been thinkin a lot about

compulsory reality in fiction. many of us have probably received feedback along the lines of, or thought to ourselves as we read, “that’s not realistic.” many of us believe, consciously or not, that fiction that is more “realistic” is inherently better than fiction that is less “realistic.” for some of us, real means a saturation of details, the clear depiction of the surfaces of things. reality is found in the rendering thereof; if you can “see” it, it’s real. for others of us, it might be the development of complex characters and their growth across a narrative. and for yet others, reality is subtlety, or misery, or the idea of “slice of life,” a term i don’t think means anything, because aren’t all stories a slice of a character’s life? what would a story that’s not a slice of life look like? you’d either have to take away the “slice” part and render a whole life, which is impossible, or you’d have to take away the “life” part and create a dead story, which may be possible, but why would you want to? even if you wrote a story about a rock, the rock would be brought to life by virtue of being written about.

anyway. i think the word “real” is a shitty word for the same reason “slice of life” is a shitty phrase: everything is real and therefore nothing cannot be real. slices of life are all we know because we are alive and cannot truly perceive not being alive; reality is also all we know, and any depictions beyond reality are thus made real because they have been depicted.

so the “goal” for fiction to be “realistic” seems to me to be a false one. all fiction is real because it exists and no fiction can be truly real because it’s only a facsimile of reality. not to get all “this is not a pipe” but writing is just making squiggles, and we as a community of English-knowers agree that certain squiggles correspond to certain sounds, and certain sounds together make words which conjure meanings. and words put together into sentences into paragraphs conjure even more complicated meanings. and when those paragraphs are woven into narrative we create yet more and more complicated meaning.

every time you write anything — a text message, an email, a tweet, a fanfic — you are taking the infinite abstraction of your own cognition, narrowing it into a single concept, and representing that concept with patterns in the form of sounds represented by letters and given meaning with words, so that the infinite abstraction of your own conscience can be fractionally witnessed by the infinite abstraction of someone else’s. and even though we can’t definitively prove for ourselves that any other thing possesses a consciousness, writing shows us the shape of someone else’s mind, and tells us we are not alone.

and yet we still expect writing to be “real.”

have you ever read a story where a character sneezed? like just, a description of a sneeze for the sake of it, with no purpose or function in the plot? if not, is it because our characters aren’t real enough to sneeze, or because the sneeze isn’t relevant to their plight? what would a written sneeze look like, and why would somebody want to write it? moreover, why would somebody want to read it? that leads me to wonder, do we depict reality in the service of narrative, or narrative in the service of reality? in other words, do we write to portray reality (sans sneezing), or do we depict reality to constrain our writing, the way one might request bumpers when bowling so as not to fall in the gutters?

i’ve never read an artful rendition of a character pissing or shitting, either, even when those things are related to a character’s plight and circumstance — stories involving long road trips, living in the woods, being kidnapped. the only exception i can think of is when those things are eroticized (we do not kinkshame here in this lkwrnl), the same way it’s rare to find detailed sex writing that isn’t for the purpose of reader arousal. are there just some things about the nature of being human that are too intimate, too complex, or too boring to write?

once i wrote a murder that takes place in a small fictional midwestern town in the 90s (for the ~aesthetic), and it went uninvestigated by said town’s police force. early readers repeatedly commented along the lines of, “that’s not realistic.” and i thought, no, if anything, the incompetence of police is too realistic for the heightened reality i’m trying to render. have you ever heard of a cop solving a murder that didn’t come with an obvious suspect or immediately found evidence? i haven’t. that doesn’t mean those cases don’t exist, but i definitely think they’re less likely than mass media has us believe, and the average small-town police force has far less motivation (and possibly training) to solve crimes than we think.

i started working on the above-mentioned novel in 2016, and my goal was to depict a reality that hovers above the surface of plausibility. in this novel, which is based on macbeth, a preteen girl, mercy, becomes jealous of the love her best friend elisa shows to her father. mercy decides to get her older and very unstable brother to kill him. naturally the deed goes awry, but it does occur, and the cleanup is far messier than anticipated.

is it plausible for a 12 year old girl to plot and execute the murder of her best friend’s father? no. is that what this book is about? yes. a book about a 12 year old girl who has a perfectly healthy relationship with her best friend and who has no feelings toward her bff’s father one way or another is probably far more “realistic,” but that’s not the book i’d want to read and certainly not the one i want to write. my goal of a heightened reality is what henry james calls the intensity of illusion, the thing that allows a reader, through the witness of one’s distilled cognition into language, to exit physical, knowable reality, and enter a new and unknown reality. and isn’t climbing to that higher place, that intensity of illusion, the purpose of fiction? if it’s not, what is?

the best feedback i got on the aforementioned murder scene was from one of my professors, who, of the perfect calm of all children involved, said, “they just shot a guy. at least one of them would be freaking out.”

he was totally right, but it opened up a lot of questions for me. by what standard did he reach that conclusion? was it something in the chapter itself, was it his personal understanding of the work of narrative, or was it the logical conclusion of the slim plausibility of the scenario? moreover, where did i come up with the idea that all of my preteen characters would commit a murder and proceed to be very chill about it? if an implausible scenario begs the expectation of emotional distress, would it be more compelling to buy into that expectation or deviate from it? is it even my obligation to be compelling when i can never have a cogent grasp of the personal tastes of my audience?

that brings me to what appears to be reality’s opposite: idealism, the state those of us who write fanfic are often trying to achieve. we’re working in an entire genre of ideals, of happily ever afters, of hurt that is always followed by comfort, of glossily rendered sex during which everyone orgasms and no one has to pee afterward. we fix broken texts and continue incomplete ones. sometimes, we want to make existing things better, deeper, more complicated. but all the time, we want to make a text more than what it is.

some see this process, this drive for the ideal, as antithetical to realism, and i think that’s part of the reason fanfiction and other idealistic genres (romance, etc.) get a bad name — the assumption that more real (which for some means more miserable) is better, and therefore its opposite, the ideal, is worse. for them, i have this quote from vladimir nabokov:

For me a work of fiction exists only insofar as it affords me what I shall bluntly call aesthetic bliss, that is a sense of being somehow, somewhere, connected with other states of being where art (curiosity, tenderness, kindness, ecstasy) is the norm.

the ideal, aesthetic bliss, the intensity of illusion. these are all phrases that boil down to the same thing: you the writer get to define the constraints of your own reality. you get to choose if your world even complies with the known laws of physics. and if it doesn’t, you get to choose which ones to break, and why to break them. you get to choose if your stories take place in a real house in a real town on a real day. if you wrote a story that takes place on september 11, 2001, would the events of that story be shaped by the events of that actual day, or are you writing a better world where 9/11 doesn’t happen? consider the consequences of both: why might you want to write reality? why might you want to write ideality? how do these things shape your identity and goals as a writer?

no matter where a work falls on the real-ideal spectrum, you have to accept that prose itself will only ever be a verisimilitude of reality and therefore an interpretation of it, one that might be interpreted differently by a reader. in writing and everything else, you can never have complete control over what others perceive. it’s like giving someone cash as a gift. they might buy themselves something nice with it, or they might spend it on groceries. the point is, eventually we all have to let go of our realities.

[bookaddict24-7]

BLOG TOUR POST!

Where the Rhythm Takes You by Sarah Dass 

Release Date: May 11th, 2021

Page Count: 352

Genre: Own-Voices Young Adult Contemporary Fiction, Romance, Retelling

Buy a copy: Indigo | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Book Depository 

Add this book to your TBR on Goodreads here. 

Synopsis: 

“Seventeen-year-old Reyna has spent most of her life at her family’s gorgeous seaside resort in Tobago, the Plumeria. But what once seemed like paradise is starting to feel more like purgatory. It’s been two years since Reyna’s mother passed away, two years since Aiden – her childhood best friend, first kiss, first love, first everything – left the island to pursue his music dreams. Reyna’s friends are all planning their futures and heading abroad. Even Daddy seems to want to move on, leaving her to try to keep the Plumeria running. And that's when Aiden comes roaring back into her life – as a VIP guest at the resort. Aiden is now one-third of DJ Bacchanal – the latest, hottest music group on the scene. While Reyna has stayed exactly where he left her, Aiden has returned to Tobago with his Grammy-nominated band and two gorgeous LA socialites. And he may (or may not be) dating one of them… Inspired by Jane Austen's Persuasion, Where the Rhythm Takes You is a romantic, mesmerizing novel of first love and second chances.”

___

Review: 

Disclaimer: I received an ARC copy via Literary Bound Tours in exchange for an honest review!

I did a combination of a physical copy and the audiobook and I honestly really recommend doing this. It took me a second to get accustomed to the accent, but I felt like it added a level of authenticity and personality to the story that would otherwise be lost by just reading the book alone. This book held so many layers. You have the layer of our MC grieving over not just the loss of her mother, but the loss of her first boyfriend a few years before the events of this book. You have the complex relationship between her and her painting, her and her best friend, and her and the hotel her mother left behind. There were moments where I wish I could have been like her big sister and told her to just let go of some of these stresses because there are times where you're reminded of how young she truly is and how much her heart hurts. But beyond the grief, I loved watching her and the love interest slowly fall back into their old routine of loving one another. I loved seeing his moments of jealousy and when he too shows just how young he is. And as we're watching all of this go down, we're also surrounded by this beautiful setting that makes you wish you could go exploring it yourself. I loved the descriptions and I wanted to be right there with them, sitting under waterfalls and running on that sand. I do think I felt frustrated sometimes because I wanted to help the MC realize things a little quicker and with less anger, but that's my only complaint. I just had to keep reminding myself that she's young and she's finding her way. I'd recommend this one for fans of second chance romances, and those who want a tropical setting with endless possibilities. Also, highly recommend the audiobook!

___

Happy reading!

[peaches-writes]

sun shower

description: you happen to be spending your training year in adjacent villages with a certain kim seungmin  member: seungmin genre: fluff, witch/wizard au (kiki’s delivery service, a little snow fairy sugar-inspired) word count: 4k note: ‘magical people’ just doesn’t sound awesome enough to be the official gender-neutral term i therefore declare that both the words witch & wizard are gender-neutral choose ur fighter ppl

Seungmin has always had a fascination with the heavens since he was a young boy. His mother specialized in potions but his father was an astronomer, inviting him to stargaze after potion lessons until he had to leave for his training as an independent wizard some 6 months ago. He never vocally said it to his parents but when they received a letter from him in the mail informing them that he has chosen to train in the quaint countrysides of Italy a month into his training, they correctly inferred that he wanted to be specialize in astrology. 

For this reason, he finds it bothersome, for a lack of a better word, whenever you, a neighboring witch, would conjure up clouds of rain until the early hours of the night. In your defense, it always happens unconsciously, most often when you’re frustrated because you couldn’t conjure up enough clouds when the sun is still out or when you untimely create clouds right as a storm passes over the countryside.

“Excuse me!” He called to you from the skies on his fifth night in the neighboring town. This was when you first met. You look up at him curiously, surprised at finding a fellow magical person. “Are you causing this?”

He gestures over the thin veils of clouds looming over the full moon. He could tell you were a witch by the runes you read to your root crops.

“Yes, why?”

“I study astrology, you see.” He shows you a familiar book, the standard guide to astrology—you knew because your own mother was an astrologer. “And I can’t really study if it’s too cloudy.”

“O-Oh, sorry.” You stand up from squatting next to your green sprouts, scratching the back of your neck. “It takes me a long time to make them disappear, you see. I swear I’m also working on them!”

“Well, it’s already late and I still have business to attend to later on so it’d be really helpful if you get your clouds out of the way quickly.” He points out, intimidating you a bit. 

Because of his dry and rather stern tone, you managed to clear out the sky faster than you’ve ever done at the time. Suffice to say, Seungmin was impressed.

“Thanks! I’m Seungmin, by the way.” “Y/N, nice to meet you and sorry again!” 

Now at present, you only have a month left until your training ends yet somehow you can’t seem to master the art of controlling the rain for sun showers, which frustrates Seungmin as much as it frustrates you. 

“Maybe you’re overthinking it. Have you tried relaxing?” In the few months you’ve spent being sort of neighbors, you know that Seungmin never means anything malicious, he simply has a sarcastic tone by default. 

“I am relaxed.” You insist, puffing out air that resembles smoke in the cold weather. It’s nearing the end of November and you can already feel the snow coming, signalling your impending departure. You try again, concentrating and thinking about how Seungmin’s watching you, “Oh hey, look, I did it!” 

To compromise over your clashing work schedules, on the 2nd month of Seungmin’s stay, the two of you came to an agreement that you alternate between your towns, so that Seungmin can monitor you practicing with the weather and make sure that he gets to see the night sky when you’re done. Undeniably, you’ve grown closer from helping each other out (and maybe you’ve even developed a small crush on the side, but you wouldn’t tell him that).

He sits behind you on your rooftop on this particular Sunday, reading a thick book on the movement of constellations, while you levitate over your vegetable garden, eyes trained to the cloudy sky that slowly clears. 

“Is this the last thing you need to accomplish?” He asks after a while, having decided after a while to halt reading and observe the sky. You’re halfway through clearing the sky, some hints of sunlight starting to peek through from the remaining clouds. Though he doesn’t show it, he’s proud (and a bit jealous) that you’re almost done with your training.  

Without sparing him a glance, you shake your head no. “I still need to perfect my own song to conjure up a sun showers.” You correct as a frown settles on your face. 

You control the weather with music. You use a flute for snow and sleet, a harp for the rain, a triangle for thunder and winds, and your own voice to call for the sun and clear skies. The problem with creating a sun shower is that you can’t come up with your own last verse—the one that is supposedly unique to every conjurer, according to your aunt who gave you the sheet music. 

“Maybe you need another instrument.” Seungmin suggests but you both know that if there was another instrument for sun showers, your aunt would tell you as a witch who controls the weather herself. “Or the music sheet’s wrong.” 

“If it’s wrong, then I would’ve conjured up something else entirely the last time I tried it.” You point out. The last time meaning just a few weeks ago when you tried out your latest revision and conjured up enough clouds but too much rain. “I’m just missing a few measures but my brain’s already too fried to come up with any!” 

“Can I see?” 

You impatiently hum in approval, finally turning around to briefly look at him and gesture over to your rucksack. “It’s in my bag, knock yourself out.” 

You have an idea of Seungmin’s musical ability. He tends to hum to himself while he’s busy with work, you’ve heard in the events you’ve stayed in his place longer to help him see the stars better, and he plays the piano well, especially when he was asked to in his town’s festival. You’ve wondered yourself before why he chose studying astrology over taking control of the weather until he mentioned his home life before going off on his own. 

“It does sound hard to complete, especially with what you already have.” He agrees with you after a while. At this point, you’ve managed to clear the skies of heavy rain clouds so you levitate towards him, sitting across from him after penetrating the shield he’s made for himself from the rain that’s passed. “But I think you’re getting there.” 

He hums the main melody under his breath, occasionally stopping to brainstorm ideas on what could possibly be missing on your sheet music. To his right, you lay down tiredly on your back, rucksack serving as a makeshift pillow, and turn your body to face him, listening intently to the little notes and comments he makes under his breath. “I just need a balance with the sun and the rain.” You sigh. “The sun is already enough, the rain’s just a little too much.” 

“Hm, sounds strangely poetic.” He points out with the same dry tone you’ve grown accustomed to, making you chuckle. “You going through something or what?”

“I don’t know if I’d call it that.” You then turn your body up towards the sky. Now that your clouds were gone, you then realize that the sky’s started turning pink and orange in sunset. “It’s just that, there are some things and people I’m unsure of, I guess.”

He wanted to ask you what, or rather, who exactly you were unsure of. You’re not exactly known for being a social butterfly but you’re not anti-social, either, but if bothered you so much, whatever or whoever you’re referring to must be someone incredibly special to you. 

“Hey, can I keep a copy of this?” He opts to ask instead, gaining your attention again. 

You nod. “You can take the music sheets, I have it memorized by heart already, anyway.” 

“If I can come up with something, I’ll let you know.” He carefully tucks your music sheet between the pages of his book. “You don’t have some kind of deadline, do you?” 

“No, it’s okay.” You smile before turning back to the incoming sunset. “Anyway, I’ve had enough of thinking about it for today, let’s just enjoy the sunset before you go back to studying! Ah, what a day.” 

Seungmin is evidently surprised, often you mind each other’s businesses and only talk when one needs help or when one is about to leave, but you missed such a rare expression across his face “Okay.” You only hear him say as he closes his book and lays down next to you, using his own messenger bag as a pillow. 

Later that night, Seungmin decides to study on your rooftop later than usual, and you hear him singing until you fell asleep.

In the following days, Seungmin kept on humming the final measures of your song along with experimental measures to try and fill in the missing gap. He sings it while gathering (or stealing, depends on who you ask) herbs from your garden, cleaning the room he rents above a dusty bookstore, and even while writing a cohesive prediction for someone in his side business. 

It would drive you crazy if only his voice isn’t that great. 

“You know, when your training ends, you should also try picking up at least one skill related to music.” You suggest to him a week later while pacing around in his room. You’re supposed to be outside but complained because of the intense heat you can’t seem to tone down. “I highly recommend singing for sunshine.” 

“But you do it better.” He’s making you a reading on this particular day since business is slow recently. “You sing and play well.”

Internally, the butterflies already present in your stomach multiply greatly. “So? Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t too?” You manage to counter while trying to recover. “I bet wherever you’re going after your training, they’ll have extraordinarily warmer sun.” 

He chuckles nervously. He’s more than halfway through his training already but he doesn’t want to think about that just yet (mostly because he finds it weird thinking about a new place without you in it, but he wouldn’t tell you that). “Really? You think so?” 

You nod. “Yeah, I feel—well, I believe you will.”  Placing a hand outside a nearby open window, the sun still feels scorching hot on your skin. You didn’t like bringing umbrellas or wearing hats while practicing, it distracts you too much. “Aish, it’s still too hot out!”

“If I do pick up music, I might turn out even better than you.” He teases, stealing a glance over to you and softening up by following with, “But who knows, maybe we’ll bump into each other a few years from now, you’ll probably already settled with somewhere and I’m still looking for a place to call home, then you can teach me.”

Seungmin can’t actually imagine you permanently staying in one place, with your adventurous streak and passion for the outdoors, much less finding someone who makes you stay in one place forever but he forces himself to consider for the sake of theory. 

Whoever will catch their eye would truly be exceptional. 

You, on the other hand, show evident confusion in your expression while you retract your hand back from the window. “I wouldn’t count myself on the settling down part but sure, I guess, I can teach you a few years from now.” 

“Why?” Seungmin looks up at you again and even stops humming, showing you genuine curiosity. It suddenly felt strangely serious.

At this, you simply shrug. “I don’t know, I guess I don’t think it’s a priority for me. I want to see the world! Can you picture me staying in one place forever?” 

“No?” He chuckles. “What if you fall in love?” 

“If I do, whoever I fall in love with should probably start practicing flying well then.” 

When the two of you go out to the farmland behind Seungmin’s lodging later on, you conjure up an almost-perfect sun shower with only a handful of extra clouds left that needs to disappear.

“Seungmin, you’re going to catch a cold, come over here!” When you turn around to show Seungmin your work,  you see him flying circles over the empty farmlands instead. 

Drenched in light rain, he grows self-conscious of how you think of his flying skilles—all the while debating on whether he should give the last measure of your song to you now, when he’s definitely sure that he enjoys your company, or during Christmas, when it’s the cruelest holiday to leave. 

Seungmin eventually gives in after 2 weeks, not that you’d notice anyway since you didn’t know that he wanted to keep you around longer. The sky is already getting cloudy, reminding the two of you of snow, making it harder to practice during the day—Seungmin had to give in while you can still manage to clear the sky before practicing.

“This is it, Seungmin.” You breathe out dramatically through the chilly December breeze. It’s early morning, just a little after the break of dawn, because you were so excited practicing the song with Seungmin last night. “If this last measure makes my perfect sun shower, my last week here would be the best! I’d be the happiest, I swear.”

There was also the fact that you planned on leaving right after the first snow. Sometimes you’re just too cruel, Seungmin thinks.

“I’m sure this is it, I decoded it.” He says as coolly and as confidently as he can.

You say nothing more, proceeding to sing and play the harp according to your sheet music. The song is only 2 minutes long, barely providing any room to feel nervous as you slowly approached the final verse which is supposed to be different for every witch / wizard, hence why it was hard to decode.

As you play, Seungmin watches the clouds form over the pale yellow sunrise, a small smile unconsciously forming on his face that then grows into a wide grin when they stop at just the right amount and started drizzling the vast expanse of houses ahead in light rain. “Y/N, you did it! You did it!”

You didn’t even realize that you’ve had your eyes closed the entire time you sang and played, opening them only when you felt Seungmin spinning around next to you to feel the rain just as the droplets of rain started to dampen your own hair. “I—I did it!”

“You did!” Seungmin turns to you, not even hiding his happiness this time as he then instinctively pulls you into a warm hug. “I’m so proud of you!”

You hug him back tighter, his coat cold and damp against yours. “Thank you, Seungmin.” You catch your breath as you rest your chin against his shoulder. “Thank you so much.”

Seungmin only hums, speechless in being so close to you. This was the first time you hugged.

Without his face in your view, you miss the way he momentarily frowns at the thought that you’re now certain and confident to leave—a thought he expertly hides when he pulls away later on and says, “So, will you still practice or do you just leave it at that until you leave?”

You frown at him in annoyance, you really were irked he brought it up, especially since several days have passed since you’ve avoided mentioning it. “Why are you thinking of me leaving already? I have to practice a couple more times before I go, of course!”

“I’m just making sure so in case you stay outside overtime again.” He defends himself, suddenly feeling colder that you’re far away again. “Okay, now try making it stop, it’s getting really cold!”

“Alright, alright!” You roll your eyes, making the clouds disappear. You manage to dry yourselves even with a gush of warmer winds to compensate the two of you getting wet with rain. “Jeez, Seungmin, I thought we were having a moment there!”

Though you said it in a joking manner, of course he didn’t miss the way you showed the slightest hint of being hurt. Seungmin feels his heart drop to his stomach at the thought.

You continue practicing in the days that follow, both early in the mornings and late in the afternoons. Though you keep it cool in front of Seungmin, you notice how quiet he’s suddenly become, how he would hum your song less and literally cover his face with his book whenever you glance over at him for small talk.

“Are you mad?” “No.” “Do you feel awkward too?” “...A bit, yeah.” Would always be your conversation-ender. You know he meant it sincerely because he didn’t use his default dry tone on you but somehow it felt awkward.

What changed?

On your last day, you invited him to dinner.

“I told the landlord you can take this house if you want to.” You mention as the two of you ate strawberry cake. Earlier that day, some of the villagers surprised you with a going-away party since you leave at midnight—the cake was from one of the farmers you helped grow crops faster. “I still have some root crops in the garden, that should last you for a month.”

“It’s fine.” He reassures you for the 2nd time since you started eating. “I want the vegetables, though.”

For a while, it seemed like the awkwardness was gone and you laugh. “If you’re not taking the house, then you might have to have a talk with Mrs. Ross over the vegetables.”

“Then I’ll swipe them later when you go.” And then the awkwardness was back.

“Won’t you see me off later?” You ask, nervously playing with your food as you steal a glance at him.

Across the table, the lone strawberry on Seungmin’s plate suddenly seems interesting even when your gaze pokes on his newly dyed blonde hair. “I’m...I’m helping a villager’s sick child, it might take a while.” He bluffs, a heavy feeling looming over him.

“Oh...” He doesn’t see the frown before you muster up a smile. “That’s alright, I guess.”

“Where do you plan on going?” He finally gathers the courage to look up at you, searching for any sign in your eyes that you’d suddenly stay.

You ponder over the question longer than you usually would, your eyes trailing to the window behind Seungmin as you do so. “It’s snowing.” You mutter absentmindedly.

When Seungmin turns around, your windowsill already has a thin layer of snow.

“It is.” He agrees, eyes suddenly stinging. Am I crying? “It’s the first snow.”

You swore you saw faint hints of tears on Seungmin’s face when you escorted him out later that night but you chose to ignore it, diverting your attention instead to the sky—and for the first time you understood why Seungmin hated night skies wherein the stars aren’t visible.

“A bit dull, I get it now.” You comment as you walk him with him to the main road. When he gives you a questioning gaze, the dry trails of tears shining under the faint street lights, you gesture to the sky. “The starless sky, I mean.”

He follows you, frowning at the lack of stars. The sky seems to radiate off of the two of you. “Yeah, it’s so vague, you could barely read anything.”

Seungmin wakes up the following morning to a sun shower. There’s a thick layer of snow outside his window, even more when he steps out of his lodging later on, yes, but it’s the lone droplet of rain that falls on his cheek as he closes the door behind him on his way out that catches his utmost attention, casting his eyes up to the sky as it begins to drizzle.

At that moment, it fully dawns on him that you never told him exactly where you were going. 

Still, he flies to your house, in hopes of any clue somehow. Only, when he arrived, he only saw the landlady, Mrs. Ross there, tending to your garden.

“Oh, Seungmin!” She greets the evidently distressed wizard. “Do you want to take some of the vegetables?”

“N-No, I just thought that—nevermind.”

“If you’re looking for Y/N, they already left last night.” Mrs. Ross says sympathethically to Seungmin. “They didn’t say where they were going.”

Seungmin walks home afterwards, dejected.

It felt wrong, spending an entire day without you afterwards, especially when the sun was out later in the afternoon yet it felt horrifyingly cold.

The week passes by too slowly for Seungmin, even when he decides on devoting half of his day to resuming correspondence with his parents and some friends—away in their own towns. He rarely leaves the house, wandering only as far as the bookstore downstairs, utilizing the never-ending snow as an excuse to his landlord. Your landlady. Mrs. Ross, is probably the only person from outside his building that he sees whenever she drops by to hand him the produce from your garden.

His textbooks have started to blur in front of him whenever he studies and the weather has started feeling dull and repetitive for him.

And so it felt years have already passed when a knock comes to his door beyond the usual time Mrs. Ross would come by. It’s already afternoon, just as Seungmin is about to take a nap.

“Who is it?” He asks as loudly as he can in his drowsy state, almost stumbling over an umbrella stand in the process, but the knock continues, annoyingly chirpy at that.

When he opens the door, you give him no time to prepare himself as you tackle him in a hug. “Kim Seungmin!” You exclaim, throwing your arms to his shoulder.

There’s a slight delay on his part, partly because the sun is shining too warmly and too bright outside but mostly because he instantly recognizes your warmth as you squeeze him tighter. “Wha—? How—?” He stutters, eyes wide and mouth hanging open in shock. Nevertheless, he wraps his arms around your waist, quickly gathering his thoughts together to coherently ask, “Where have you been?!”

“Oh, here and there. I went home to my parents then wandered off aimlessly to some beaches in the South since it’s really cold up here.” You explain as you try and pull away from him but Seungmin uncharacteristically keeps you in place, making you laugh. “Hey, you missed me.”

At this, he buries his face on your shoulder, mumbling a muffled, “Of course I did.” that almost completely melted your heart if it weren’t for him following it with, “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Well, I needed time to think.” When you pull away, he lets you this time, allowing you to step inside his place. It looked the same since you were last here, you notice.

“Of what?”

“Of how I feel for you.” You make sure to say it in the sincerest way you know, feeling light-headed afterwards.

Oh, Seungmin thinks, cheeks flushed, so it’s me?

Seungmin stands there gaping, completely dazed at your short confession until your face is completely red from the heat that you immediately speak again. “Seungmin, say something.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t know if you liked me or not.”

“Wasn’t it obvious?”

You knit your eyebrows in confusion. “No? If you were, I would’ve actually stayed longer.”

“R-Really?” Now, Seungmin just feels dumb for not being more clear with his feelings.

You nod with a hum, continuing, “I kept dropping hints as best as I can but you just keep mentioning me leaving whenever you can.”

In front of you, you can clearly see Seungmin’s frustration with himself. “I’m sorry, I should’ve still been considerate of how you felt about me mentioning your leave then and I definitely should’ve asked you to stay even when your training did end.” He frowns, more to himself than to you. “B-because I...I really like you too but I also thought that you’d want to go and explore the moment you’re allowed to leave—I didn’t want to keep you waiting if you like me too.”

You shake your head no, a small smile now forming on your lips. “It’s not like the world outside’s going to change.” You take a brave step closer to Seungmin now, cupping his cheeks in your warm hands. “So, what’s—how many months do you have left? Four?—what’s 4 months more of waiting?” 

[smolbeandrabbles]

Common Threads - An Orson Krennic AU (Rogue One: A Star Wars Story)

@wltz-bby​ @happyskywhale​

This will be a short series set across a number of parts.

Author’s Note: All credit, and I mean ALL credit, to Harry & Rob @ Stop Making Sense Podcast. They’re real ones!  REAL ones. Thank you both for letting me write such a genius idea!

Basically this all started here on Instagram. And if you want to see where it’s going you’ll want 54:33-61:20 of this! Also please support these guys, they’re so great and so funny! Highly recommended!  While we’ll have no central romance, we know how Krennic is so... there’ll be fleeting mentions of goings on.

Also it wouldn’t be my writing if I didn’t almost lose half of it due to microsoft word complications, would it?

Disclaimer: Star Wars & Rogue One characters places etc all not mine / There’s some call backs to Catalyst but they’re rather small / The idea certainly isn’t mine either in this case / lyrics not mine / I did bring my OCs into this.

Premise: When Krennic is attacked by a band of rebel insurgents and they get away with vital information, the Empire devise a rather unusual punishment...

Words: 3547

Warnings: Slight sexual references / Please don’t look at the timelines too closely / AU

_____ I know what I want And I'ma go and get it, I'm a number one, I know you won't forget it Keep my eyes on the prize, no surprise that I'm lit I be cruisin', you be snoozin' That's why you losin', I'm oozin' Confidence is boomin', boomin'

I ain't worried 'bout nada 'Less it Gucci, 'less it Prada 'Less it Dolce and Gabbana 'Less a trip to the Bahamas I wanna feel like I'm way up Stay lit every single day I wake up I ain't worried 'bout shit, you a parody Ain't no wonder why they all so scared of me I'm a rarity, I got clarity

---

Part 1: Stitched Up. 

The communications device rumbled across the table again, begging to be picked up. This time it annoyed her; she’d managed to ignore it up to now but if it interrupted the meeting one more time she was in danger of being thrown out. She pulled it from the table, glaring. The person on the other end of the line, who clearly needed her desperately, could have only been one of two people – and due to the frequency, she could easily narrow it down to one. Krennic. And if it was her boss, she’d find that highly ironic, considering he’d been the one to tell her how imperative it was she took note of every little thing said here. ‘I don’t want a single detail missed Lieutenant; do you understand me!?’   It continued to buzz on and off feebly in her lap as she listened to the group of commanders drone on and on… but at least it wasn’t disturbing anyone but her anymore. Upon exiting the meeting it rang again, probably for the billionth time, and she answered: “Director.” He seemed a little taken aback that she knew it was definitely him, “What took you so long to pick up!?” “I was in a briefing you told me to go to! And yes, before you ask, I made all your notes. I’ll send you a copy of them right away.” “Well forget about that, I have something far more urgent for you to attend to!” “Sir?” She stilled in the corridor, ready to run in whichever direction he commanded. Krennic’s voice lowered to a hiss, “This is very embarrassing Lieutenant, and I would prefer you kept it discreet. Can you get yourself to my place?” “Yes, Sir.” She waited for a further instruction, yet upon receiving none but “Good, and make it quick, Suraya.” and the click of a terminated communication, she supposed that the only thing to do was board a shuttle to his apartment and pray that his version of urgent was not ‘I need a suit for a ball tonight, and your help to pick one!’ …again. ***

Nothing appeared out of the ordinary when she stepped off the ship, smoothing out her uniform as she did so. Krennic was waiting for her by the door and ushered her in quickly – what could this have been about? Suraya’s question was answered before he’d even closed the door, “Oh… my…” Her eyes traced slowly from floor to wall to ceiling, but there wasn’t a part of his apartment that wasn’t ransacked. “…word.” She finished, not able to think of something better to say. Krennic stepped forward into the room, arms crossed and staring hard at everything before turning to her. “Rebels!” “…Rebels?” Suraya immediately questioned, “In your house? ON Coruscant?” That didn’t make any sense, “They wouldn’t dare!” “Well they did!” He indicated around, then waved her forward, implying she should join him. “How?” “That’s what you’re here for.” “I’m hardly a detective, Director… where were you?” His blue eyes lowered to the floor and he chewed his lip, face a little flushed – she could bet from embarrassment and anger. Therefore his answer was a little mumbled, “Not conscious.” Suraya couldn’t help stifle a laugh which turned his steely gaze on her, “The rebels knocked you out?” She scanned the room again, “Well did they break in, there’s no broken glass or forced entry?” “...No.” Krennic was hesitant, and the lieutenant knew she’d missed something, turning in a complete circle on the balls of her feet, she stopped as she eyed the bed. Bed sheets rumpled and his clothes strewn nonchalantly around, there was no evidence that he’d been with anyone, but Suraya knew better. “Where’s the woman?” “What woman!?” Although there was hesitation in Krennic’s voice again. She quirked an eyebrow as she looked back at him; there wasn’t a planet in the Galaxy that didn’t know about his reputation. Her look was enough to get him to confess. “She was here when I was blindsided, when I came to, nothing!” She doubted this account by the fact that, although Krennic looked fairly unscathed, there was a mark above his eye. He’d likely let them in and would never admit it. He grumbled again, “What kind of woman would just answer the door to the rebellion!?” Or maybe that was it, but Suraya doubted Krennic would have just let anyone else answer his door for him without express permission or command. “Did it occur to you she was a rebel?” The Director nearly laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation, then composed himself. “Nah. I would have known. Anyway, why would she?!” Suraya let her eyes linger on him a little longer than she perhaps ought to; “I dunno, if I got the opportunity to say I’d slept with you, I would. Your reputation does precede you, Director Krennic. Why not take the opportunity to see if the rumours are true?” Krennic flushed but automatically dismissed it, “No. There’s no way. Self-respecting rebels would never-! And I---” She kept her mouth shut for now, and pushed a scoff and a taunt back down where they belonged. “---No. No.” As he began walking across the floor, musing to himself, Suraya traced his footsteps. “Well, what did they take?” “Hm?” “If they’ve overturned everything here, then they were looking for something Director, what have they found? What was here?” “Most of my research is back with Galen at the Eadu facility. I suppose there are a few data packs… but that’s general Weapons Division stuff. And-” Krennic turned quickly, trying to figure out where he’d last seen his personal data pad. He wasn’t about to outwardly look flustered about this though, he’d been in little mishaps before and he’d always come out of them on the right side of things. This was just another one of those, Krennic told himself he had nothing to worry about. Something else was pressing on the lieutenant’s mind as she watched him move around, and Suraya wasn’t thinking as she interrupted him to voice it. “Where’s your cape?” Suraya wasn’t sure he wore it all the time. Did he wear it when he relaxed? There weren’t so many times she’d seen Krennic in civvies or ever had a reason to come over here, unless it was for an early morning pre-meeting briefing; by which time he was usually up and dressed. But he was certainly in his uniform right now – so, where was the most iconic piece of it? Then Krennic really did go red and in his attempt to stutter through a sentence, couldn’t, and had to sit down, running his hands over his face. Then it all clicked; this was what was so urgent. It wasn’t that the rebels had come here, upturned his place, perhaps stolen documents – Krennic was annoyed about that but he wasn’t bothered by it. The information he was about to impart to her was his top concern. “It’s gone.” He managed, muffled slightly behind his hands. Okay, but he had more, right? Krennic wasn’t the type of man to keep one copy of a uniform around, especially when he was so picky about tailoring. Those poor imperial tailors were yelled at if there was even so much as a stitch wrong. She was pretty sure that he’d even stood over their shoulders to watch them remake it after he’d sent it back. “There’s more than just one, isn’t there?” If there wasn’t, he at least had a rainwear version he could substitute until they made him another. Krennic just shook his head, but still wasn’t looking up. Suraya crossed to his wardrobe, pulling it open and immediately seeing the problem. She stepped back with a gasp. By ‘it’s gone’ Krennic didn’t just mean the cape, he meant his entire closet was empty. No uniforms, no finely tailored suits (that he spent who knows how many credits on just so he was on trend), nothing. There was a single note stuck to the inside of the door, which upon reading Suraya found was indeed from the rebellion – but also fairly unrepeatable. She untacked it and walked back to him. “…Well, that’s a story you’ll have to tell Uniform.” “They’ll make my life hell.” He protested, suddenly regretting all the times he’d had them redo his clothing over one stitch, finally taking his head out of his hands and looking up at her, “I can’t leave my house like this!” “At least you have a uniform, Sir.” Was the best she could do, and by the looks of it Krennic also had whatever he’d been wearing last night, so not all was lost. Still, Suraya knew why she’d been called here, “I’ll put an expedited request in for you.” He nodded, and opened his mouth to verbally agree, when there was another sharp knock at his door that demanded both of their attention. “Director Krennic! Open this door at once!” Her heart dropped and Krennic groaned, “This is just what I need!” He stood, turning back to his assistant, “I TOLD you not to say anything.” “I didn’t! It’s not like I knew this had anything to do with the rebels before I got here-!” Suraya would have hit him with her data pad if she thought it would get her anywhere. Krennic swivelled from the door to her and then back to the door, “Then how the hell does Tarkin know!?” Forced to play defensive she held her hands up, and said her next sentence almost hopefully, “We don’t know he does, maybe that’s not what he’s here for!” ***  Krennic took the deepest of deep breaths as he cracked the door open, leaving Suraya to stand to attention on one side of the room, data pad behind her back keeping it dead straight, a trick she’d learned was pretty useful as a cadet. “Governor Tarkin, how may I assist you?” “Let us in, Director, my day is very busy and I don’t have time for this, particularly.” Tarkin was curt as ever, it didn’t help Orson’s mood. “Time for what?” Clearly Krennic’s feign of ignorance wasn’t making him friends. “Oh, out of the way, Krennic! We spotted some Rebel insurgents leaving atmosphere and on breaking down the contrails of their craft and fuel particles in the atmosphere, it appears they came from your apartment. Now I don’t wish to accuse you of treason, but if you want to confess it might make things easier.” The lieutenant found herself suddenly wishing Krennic hadn’t dragged her into this first, so she could be saved from watching these two argue again. The Director scowled as he was forced to open his door wider on the chaos of his apartment.  “Oh dear!” Although as Tarkin waltzed in it was clearly only said as a formality, and the sharp smile on his face let Suraya know he was about to lord this over her boss. He was followed in by no less than five other imperials, all young looking protégés, eager to survey the scene for themselves. She would suppose even if they found forensic evidence, Krennic wasn’t about to be told of it, and it also didn’t look like they were about to be too careful with his remaining things. Once Tarkin had acknowledged her presence at the scene and turned back to Krennic, still scowling, Suraya made her way quickly across the room to kick Krennic’s discarded clothing under the bed. Maybe the kids wouldn’t put two and two together, but Tarkin certainly would. Rebels were scandals themselves without a potential sleeping-with-the-enemy situation. “It seems to be a bit of a mess you find yourself in, Director.” “It’s hardly of my own doing.” Krennic straightened, defensive, “There were far more of them than I, I fought back but was unfortunately blindsided.” “I see no evidence of force entry.” Suraya shook her head subtly as Krennic’s eyes flicked momentarily to her; if he wanted to go that way, he probably should have opened a window or the balcony doors or… something. “Well, no, as it turns out I let them in.” She couldn’t see Tarkin’s face, but his movement and the freeze of the others in the room said everything. Krennic’s eyes momentarily flickered in panic but he controlled it, “I expected to see my assistant returning to de-brief me on the meeting I sent her to this morning.” Suraya did everything in her power not to look pissed that he’d just thrown her to the wolves instead, with Tarkin immediately turning, but it was not her he addressed, “I believe I know the briefing the lieutenant attended, which you also therefore would have known did not finish until after the incident took place. Why would you expect her so early?” Krennic shrugged coolly, “Sometimes they end early.” This wasn’t untrue, of course, but it was a big bluff. It didn’t explain why Krennic wouldn’t have checked who was knocking. Also if Tarkin had the inclination to check the call log, it would show that the Director also began his tirade of calls after the rebels had left. Krennic, having become suddenly useless, was dismissed, for Tarkin to turn back to her. “Lieutenant. When you arrived did you notice anything out of the ordinary?” Suraya could see Krennic gesturing out of the corner of her eye but ignored him. “Besides the whole place being over turned, nothing Sir.” Although she tilted her head, before pausing, immediately thinking better of it. “Lieutenant?” It didn’t get passed Tarkin. “I just don’t understand why they would take the Director’s wardrobe, Sir.” The word ‘take’ obviously alerted Tarkin to something else, and his eyes darted around the room again, Krennic walked forward, clearly bumping Tarkin’s arm on purpose as he strolled to the closet to present evidence. You watched the Governor’s little smile widen in amusement, before he became serious again, “Well, well, Director. You better check they’ve not stolen anything important. Especially with the project you’re working on.” “Anything of significance is with Galen.” Krennic disliked how quick he was to address that point, he didn’t want Tarkin to know how irked he was. “Still, it would be best to check. I believe that your personal data pad will have been here along with some files. Something as significant as those would not have escaped the rebels notice.” Krennic’s teeth gritted, as he indicated back to the closet; “My WARDROBE is gone!!” Suraya was right, that was the most important thing to him. Tarkin’s eyes flicked to hers, and they shared the same exchange of exasperation, unable to quite comprehend why clothing was at the forefront of Krennic’s mind. “As I was saying…” She almost chuckled as Tarkin made it clear on what he perceived as important and it was not Krennic’s lack of uniform, “There’ll be consequences if anything is missing, Director! This is already a dire security breach.” Ironically Krennic thought that was a little dramatic, but simply grumbled to himself as Tarkin took his forensics team back and exited the apartment. The Director was just glad to get them out of his hair. “Security breach.” He muttered, “You’d think I handed them the whole damn Project Stardust!” Suraya sighed gently as she made her way back over to him, “For now, Sir, I believe we should figure out exactly what data has been taken. And report it up the chain as soon as possible, less Tarkin find a reason to return. Then we can get your uniform re-ordered.” He turned those blue eyes back on her, at least a little brighter at that idea than they had looked when she arrived, “Yes. Let’s… let’s do that.” *** It took a couple of days to overturn the damage that the rebels had done and take stock of what was actually missing. Krennic had retrieved his personal data pad, and they hadn’t managed to gain access to the most important discs in his desk. Nor his own weapon, thankfully. That didn’t mean data packs and other things of value weren’t looted. Krennic had to go through the ordeal of cancelling a lot of his access pips and cards – but they arrived fairly quickly from the Intelligence Bureau, reset. Suraya remained with him to assist the clean-up operation and order his uniform; this took a little longer to arrive and by the end of the second day Krennic was starting to get antsy. “What takes them so long!?” “Well you do have very exacting standards, Sir!” “Exactly! So they should know how to do it by now. Did I not specify clearly enough!?” She wasn’t about to answer that question. If his previous interactions with them were anything to go by the urgent note she’d placed on it was being wholly ignored and the Director would be constantly bumped to the back of the queue. She couldn’t say she’d blame them, either. On the morning of the third day, as they both anxiously awaited the results of their carefully worded email detailing exactly what documentation the rebels had stolen, Krennic received another knock at the door. “If this is Tarkin-” Suraya wasn’t about to tell him to keep a level head, but she did give him a look to tell him not to blow up. He opened the door to a woman dressed in civilian clothing, even though it appeared that she possessed rank pins. She had bright pink hair and light eyes and as she moved her hair flew as if she was starring in some kind of commercial. “Director Krennic? My name is Kora, I’m here about your uniform.” “About time it turned up!” He took a pace back in order for her to walk in, “Are you from Uniform? Next time you ought to tell them that when I say urgent, I mean same day-” Kora wasn’t done talking, and she turned back to him, saying rather bluntly, “Request denied. For letting the rebellion enter and steal documentation of the upmost importance to the Empire, YOU are going to star in a documentary about Empire approved businesses.” There was silence in the room for a moment and Krennic wore a half smile as he tried to work out if she was serious. Kora simply stared him down, and as the Director’s face fell, Suraya once again wished she wasn’t in the room. “No.” Suraya couldn’t tell if that was Krennic refusing or his own disbelief. Kora knew which way she was taking it. “Well it better be a yes before I go back, Director, or you’ll be in hot lava.” Krennic’s eyes widened and no one was under any illusions as to what he was thinking; “Not Mustafar again-!” There had to be a way out, he wasn’t about to waste his time on this! “This documentary will be of the upmost importance Director. Lord Vader and the Governor only hope that you will take it seriously.” Suraya couldn’t help giggling behind her hand at this. It wasn’t the being in front of a camera, it wasn’t the thought of doing a documentary on business – or fashion - it was that Krennic was being forced into this by a man he hated. Krennic cleared his throat, once more folding his arms as he looked back to Kora, giving her a single nod. “Very well, but there is nothing in my wardrobe that isn’t tailored to within an inch of its life and most of it is from high end shops, some of which are on Lexrul.” Krennic was a very big advocate of his home planet after all, so he’d expect at least one part of this documentary to take place there, “So you better have budget!” Instead of agreeing Kora simply smiled, in the same way that Tarkin had a habit of, “Oh no, Director, we’re highlighting small businesses that scrape by for a living, right here on Coruscant, to show our support and cater to all audiences.” Suraya thought that his face fell even faster than it had with Tarkin around, and she also didn’t think that livid covered it. “WHAT!?” “That’s the deal Director.” “It’s not much of a DEAL!” “It’s the one I’m giving you, I can take it elsewhere… and I’m sure that Lord Vader and Governor Tarkin would love to hear why you couldn’t do it.” The Director looked desperately to Suraya, but she wasn’t sure what she could say. How could, at her position, she possibly rescue him from what Tarkin wanted?

Realising indeed that his assistant wouldn’t be much aid to him, Krennic’s eyes fell back to Kora and he swallowed hard, smile feigning confidence - but also a little nervous. “Well then, I suppose I will accept your offer.” This time Kora’s returned smile was warm and sweet, “That’s great news, Director Krennic.” She took a step forward and extended her hand to him, “Well, as series producer and director, I’m very much looking forward to working with you. Welcome to the team.” Suraya bit her lip as she watched him step down to shake Kora’s hand, hoping he wasn’t crossing his fingers behind his back: this could be huge for Krennic if he used this opportunity wisely. Things were about to get interesting around here...

---

Thank you for reading! 😘😘

I really am SO excited to bring you the rest of this

[doctorhanma]

Top Review About Christ the Healer 2021

Christ the Healer - It's an honor to read this post again. I often buy new copies and leftovers, to share with those who need to know more about medicine. I've found that those who read a post per chapter per day, generally retain more of the truth than those who are in a rush to read it, seeing it more like a lot of words, than seeing the truth being revealed. When recommending, I would often read the same chapter each day with them, doing what I asked others to do, keeping in mind what they should read. Those who read, always find real healing, some have started and seen the ascension, but have never attained full liberation, and some honestly admit that they either never read it or end up reading it, running out of the wonderful blessings that await those who have read it. read. need. I just kept pushing to read the post, as it clarified the truth of what I had shared with them. May God accept all the Glory!.

This post has changed my life!! As soon as I read this post, it helped me to master the teachings of the Bible more than I ever had. This post is God's method of showing me what I need to know. After I understood about God's healing grace & method of prayer, my husband whom I have prayed for for over a year and a half, who has Parkinson's Disease, is restored!! Gone is the vibration. We serve a wonderful God & Loving!! It is very extraordinary, & love us so much! My husband & I want to spend the rest of our lives grateful & flattering his precious name for the magic he has shared with us!!! If you or your loved ones need treatment, I can't stress enough how wonderful this post is, this post will change your life. It certainly replaces ours!!

I really enjoyed this post. Highly recommended. This will help strengthen your faith. The author supports many teaching points with the scriptures. We just have to believe in the Bible. At one point he focuses on this passage in Proverbs 4:20-22 "Heed my words; turn your ear to my words. For they are life to you. Those who created them , and health for all their flesh." He directs that only when we heed God's Word, it can be our health for the whole flesh and our life for those who created it (His Word).

I find that I prefer to read this post slowly to ensure that I absorb all the points he teaches, and to seriously and properly examine the Words and Parts of the passages contained in the post. This post is also very valuable because I will read it many times to make sure I get the best out of it. I highly recommend this post.

The author has done an excellent job of uncovering the truth about the subject of divine medicine based on the scriptures. I feel so blessed just reading this post. So what if the doctors have given up on you! So what if all you hear is a bad report! This post could just be the magic door you need in your life! The Bible says that My people perish because of a lack of knowledge. Embrace yourself to receive the true knowledge in this post so that you too can face the power of our living God in an extraordinary way! God bless!

Source : doctorhanma.com

[mitsuki-murakami]

awkward [Akaashi Keiji x reader]

Hey, can I request an Akaashi x reader oneshot where the reader and Akaashi grab the same book and it becomes really awkward? Thanks!

Requested by: @amycahill06

Hello!! Thank you for requesting this and thank you for being patient with me as well~ hehe

Reader’s POV

The library has always been one of your greatest solaces. It could be because of the distinct smell, the calming atmosphere, or maybe it could even be because of the abundance of books. Maybe it was all of it that made you frequent the place. Not many public libraries contained a proper amount of literature and comfortable places to simply sit back and bury your nose into a book, so you were pleased to have found this one.

Simply the act of gently pushing the door open gave you a rush of warmth, and it was enough to put some giddiness in your system.

“Back so soon?” Your favorite bookkeeper mused, not even bothering to look up from the library cards that they were shuffling. “Of course,” you gave them a small smile before you set down your backpack onto the baggage counter. You had just finished classes for the day, so you figured it would be nice to spend the remaining sunlight inside your happy place. You stood there for a moment, wondering which section you were going to look in for today.

You had almost decided to go and scout the familiar works of fiction before you decided to mix it up a little bit, venturing out to the non-fiction section of the library. Your ears caught a little bit of the casual greeting of the bookkeeper, which led you to believe that another regular just entered shortly after you. You immediately pushed the thought aside and got lost in scanning the multitude of works.

Choosing a book to settle down with was an art that you hadn’t quite mastered yet, seeing as it took you minutes upon minutes before you could decide on a book that piqued your interest, and one that you figured would keep it long enough. But once your eyes kept darting back to that one particular book shelved in a rather dusty corner, your heart was set.

Getting lost in your own world in this library was not uncommon for you, so it didn’t surprise you that you hadn’t noticed another person in the same book section as you.

It seems as if the universe was sending you its hate for this month. While you were reaching out for that one particular book, expecting to feel its leathery spine, instead your hand landed on a soft, rather a warm surface.

You immediately stopped in your tracks, your brain not processing the information in front of you properly, so you remained your hold on whatever you were touching for quite a while. Why would somebody else want this very book? And why me, of all people in this library? How do I even begin to--

Your train of thought was cut short when you heard a question directed to nobody else but you. The silence of the library engulfed both of you, not noticing how painfully prolonged the physical contact was for strangers. Your gaze bounced back between your hands and the book for a long time.

“Sorry, do you need to borrow this book?” Was all it took before you snatched your hand away as if burnt. You stumbled one step back and quickly bowed your head in apology. “I’m sorry, not really, but--” he shot you a questioning look and you reddened, taken aback.

This man was one of your batchmates at school. You’ve seen him walk around the second year hallway, and you’ve been to his matches as well. You knew him as Akaashi, that one second year that seems to hold things together well. You hated to admit it, but you had a tiny crush on the guy a year ago, maybe until now, which could explain how awkward you were acting right now.

“But..?” He seemed slightly amused at how flustered you looked to him, despite how blank his expression normally looked like, which only made you panic more.

“I’m sorry!!” You apologized louder, which shocked him. “Do you want this book? D-Do you need it? Because I really don’t, I just saw it and I figured it was interesting and--”

He held up a finger to his lips before pointing to a ‘keep quiet’ sign behind him, his expression not changing. Your hand shot up to cover your mouth. At this point, you were sure the redness reached your ears and you mentally cursed yourself for embarrassing yourself in front of Akaashi of all people.

To say you were stunned when he smiled at you was an understatement. “I meant... I don’t mind... You can read it first.” Proud of yourself for composing a somehow eloquent follow-up after that catastrophe, you let out a small sigh of relief, not realizing that you were holding your breath.

He nodded and reluctantly grabbed the book next to it and held it towards you. “...If you want, you can read this one first. The one you picked is actually a sequel to this.”

You accepted the book and glanced at the synopsis, and you gave him a questioning look. “Thank you, but, have you read this already?”

That seemed to have caught him off guard. It took him a minute to reply. “I have a copy of it at home, and when I finished, I realized that I didn’t have the second book.” His hand covered his nape, and he averted his glance, hoping that you wouldn’t see the pink tinting his cheeks.

Akaashi’s POV

That was a lie, he thought, but he was satisfied at how he came up with a passable excuse. He had never seen either of the two books before in his entire life.

When he realized that the person who was in the same book section as him was you, he instantly thought of excuses to approach you. After all, there were some words to be said, but he never got the chance to. Once it had registered in his mind that it was only the two of you in this particular area, he took his chances, but not before thinking of what would happen if he grabbed the book you were going for before you did.

A. You could either think he was a total creep or, B. it was a coincidence. The latter seemed unlikely, so he thanked his quick thinking for justifying his actions to you.

There were certainly better ways to catch your attention or to talk to you, but he wasn’t exactly the smoothest when it came to that, which was obvious considering the situation he just got himself into. He considered asking Bokuto for advice, but he knew that the guy would just tell him to go for it.

“I see..” At the corner of his eye, he could see how you looked away as well, your fingers discreetly scratching the spine of the book. “Thank you for the recommendation, and,” you paused, and he highly anticipated your next words, until, “Excuse me.” His eyes widened as he watched you blast past him, holding the book to your chest while looking down.

Think, he spoke to himself, trying to find ways to make you stay without freaking you out any further. So he did what any sensible gentleman would do.

He gently grabbed your wrist, and he never felt more embarrassed. “Wait, I,” shit.

It seemed to stop you in your tracks, so he let go of you, his hand pulling at the hem of his shirt in an attempt to shake off his unease. This wasn’t what he was planning at all, but he had no other choice.

“Would you like to talk about it?” He pointed at the book you held. “After you read it, I mean.” He pursed his lips at the cumbersome situation, but he didn’t look away this time, staring at your face to look for an answer. When you didn’t answer right away, he came up with another excuse. “So I can lend the book to you right after?”

An understanding look took over your face and you nodded slowly, which caused the corner of his lip to curve upwards.

“I’ll see you next week here, then?”

“O-Okay.” You finally smiled back, albeit your shaky voice ruining your composure. He sighed in relief and watched as you left the library, waiting until you completely disappeared before rushing to the bookkeeper to ask for a copy of the first book.

He had a lot of reading to do.

***

Hngg hello I’m sorry this took so long (I keep saying that but it’s true TT)

Special thanks to @capt-spangles and @sashimeh for helping me!!!!!

Thank you for reading!! uwu

[limited-practice]

Here’s a quick thing I wrote based on the prompt ‘Bumblebee and Cooking.’

My love for random comedy is unceasing, and this was a fun thing to write.

1443 words of Bumblebee trying to follow a soup recipe from a cooking book he bought from Swindle are below the cut.

Follow this simple** recipe and you’re guaranteed*** to create a meal that will startle**** and delight your guests and leave them begging, absolutely weak on their knees with their tongue lolling out of their drool stained desperate mouths BEGGING you for just one more spoonful, just one more sip, just one quick lick around the bowl in case some dripped down the side and is hardening on the bottom and it doesn’t matter that the bowl’s been rolling around the floor because we’ve all been fighting like rabid turbo foxes over it because it’s just. That. GOOD.*****

Bumblebee's arms collapsed to his sides in defeat. He held a cooking book loosely in his fingers.

“Why? Why did I buy this?” he muttered to himself under his breath. “Why?”

He shook his head, appalled at his behaviour. “And why did I buy it from Swindle? I know better than that.”

He raised his voice and looked up at the ceiling as he clenched his fist. “I know better than that!”

The book threatened to slip free from his other hand. He glanced down at the ornately decorated purple and gold book, and couldn’t help but look at the large author’s photo printed on the back. Swindle was wearing a chef’s hat and holding a spoon. He beamed up at him.

“If we get food poisoning from this I’m coming after you.”

The book dangled in Bumblebee’s hand, and Chef-Swindle looked like he was laughing.

“But due to a series of unfortunate and improbable events, this book is the only thing that can teach me to cook soup for my important dinner party tonight.” 

Bumblebee put the book flat on the counter and opened it to the first page.

“‘First of all,’” Bumblebee read out loud from the book, “‘Fill six large measuring cubes with VERY watered down engex distillate. This is the base for your soup, and MUST be watered down and MUST be thin and weak and able to accommodate rapid heating as a precursor for more complex substances.’”

“That...kinda makes sense. And seems simple enough.” Bumblebee’s eyes narrowed. “But what’s the catch? What’s the catch here Swindle? ”

‘That’s it! There’s no catch, I swear there’s not! After filling your pan set the heat to a rapid - and I mean circuit melting RAPID - heat. Blast that engex distillate for approximately 60 seconds until it’s so scalding hot it could melt your plating off if you’re not careful. See the next page for a great deal on emergency medical coverage that includes but is not limited to scald, burns, cuts, dismemberments!’

Bumblebee sighed. The instructions were spread out over a double paged spread, but were squeezed into a few lines at the very top. The rest of the space was taken up by garish advertisements for cooking utensils and measuring cubes and lots of promises to save  ! ! $ $ ! !

“Fine.” Bumblebee poured six large measuring cubes worth of thin engex distillate into a pot and cranked the heat up as high as the cooker would allow. Heavy wet heat filled the kitchen as the liquid bubbled. 

Bumblebee turned the page to the next instructions. 

‘If you haven’t burnt yourself yet, you will soon!’

“What?” 

‘There’s a time in every bot’s life when they accidentally pour boiling engex distillate over themselves. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. But it is painful, so time is of the essence if you don’t want to be in agony. Put this number into your speed dial so you can call your dedicated insurance agent when it happens to you: 0800-PAY-TO-TAKE-THE-PAIN-AWAY’

“Why wouldn’t I call for an ambulance if I burnt myself? What kind of idiot would call an insurance agent first?”

Bumblebee looked at the phone number for a suspiciously long time. As if he was memorising it. The timer on the cooker dinged, and he glanced up in relief. Sixty seconds was up. He was sure he had to remove the pot from the heat now or turn it down, but he turned the page to cheek the next instruction to be sure. 

‘After you’ve set the engex distillate to a low heat to prepare it as a base - and I mean a LOW heat, as if it was practically off - use this very long time to prepare your ingredients. And check out the insurance deals on the previous page if you haven’t already done so!’

“What?” Bumblebee looked between the pan of roiling liquid and the book.

‘You DID set it to a low and gentle heat, didn’t you? Because if you set it straight to a boil you’ve just ruined your soup. Why did you do that? That was stupid.’

Bumblebee swore loudly.

He turned the heat off, emptied the pot, filled another one with the same amount of liquid, and set it on a low heat on a different burner. He looked at the book to find out what ingredients he had to prepare.

‘Back when I was freshly forged and living in a strange city as I sought to make my fortune, I craved the comfort and simplicity of a home cooked meal like my mentor used to make.’

“Oh I don’t care,” Bumblebee said. “I don’t care in the slightest about your obviously made up story that’s supposed to be spark warming and reassure me that you know what you’re talking about. You just told me to set the liquid at a rapid boil and then insulted me when I did!”

Bumblebee turned the page. The story continued. 

‘I also wanted a hearty yet simple meal before starting a day of hard honest labour on a brisk Cybertronian morning.’

He turned another page. 

‘So I turned to a source of great stability and comfort to me; something that continues to provide me spiritual, mental, and emotional guidance in these increasingly trying times - my bank account.’

With a growing sense of alarm, Bumblebee flipped through the next twenty pages. The story marched through them all.

“Oh my god,” Bumblebee muttered.

Brightly coloured adverts infected each page. They surrounded the text of the story and were often embedded within it. At the top and bottom of each page was a headshot of Swindle. He smiled, dabbed his eyes with a tissue, laughed heartily, winked, and held up a copy of his insurance plan. 

“This crap takes up most of the book. I paid for this. I paid actual money for this.”

Bumblebee finally came to the end of the story. He vented heavily. There was one page left of the book.

‘After the ingredients are cooked thoroughly and the liquid has thickened, it’s time to serve your soup!’

“What? What ingredients? What are you talking about? You didn’t give me any further instructions!”

Bumblebee looked at the book in rage. And slowly felt his expression melt into one of horror. 

“You don’t mean that the rest of the recipe is hidden within that story. You can’t mean that. Please tell me you don’t mean that.”

Chef-Swindle held a bowl of piping hot soup in one hand and rubbed his stomach with the other.

“I don’t have the strength,” Bumblebee whispered. 

He glanced up at the clock. 

“And I don’t have the time! I just want the recipe, that’s all. That’s ALL!”

‘Because you’ve chopped and marinated your ingredients two days before, the flavours you’re about to experience will be divine! If you haven’t prepared them two days before, I’m afraid it’s going to smell like burnt rubber and taste even worse. Why would you do that to your guests? Why? What’s wrong with you?’

Bumblebee covered his face with his hands.

‘But chin up! Thanks to my home delivery service, you can still salvage the evening you’ve ruined by calling for a three course banquet to be delivered to the location of your choice. If you call now it will take just ten minutes to arrive. Just ten minutes to prevent your friends and family from hating you!’

Bumblebee looked at the cost of the delivery service. He choked back a sob. 

‘Check out the other recipe books in my series for more delicious meals to perfect! And no, YOU’RE welcome!’

Bumblebee turned the last page. He squinted to read the small print that was squashed underneath the large photo of Chef-Swindle winking and giving a chef’s kiss. 

*A highly subjective term not subject to strict definition

**A highly subjective term not subject to strict definition

***Not a guarantee

****In the good way, not the clutching-at-your-chest-what’s-happening-oh-primus-spare-me-I’m-having-a-spark-attack-I knew-I-should-have-got-Swindle-brand-insurance-because-now-the-medical-bills-will-cripple-me-and-I-didn’t-even-get-to-eat-any-delicious-soup kind of way

*****Adding mind altering drugs as an extra ingredient is absolutely not recommended. Especially not the perfectly legal ones you could legitimately purchase by calling 0800-ABOVE-BOARD-YOU-KNOW-YOU-WANT-TO

[ladyofmaidensandwine]

Third Eye

Part Four of the All’s Not Fair in Love and War Series

Characters: Dean Winchester, Fem! Reader, Sam Winchester, Charlie, John Winchester, Fem! Reader, Rowena, Crowley

Wordcount: 2,029

A/N- I highly recommend listening to the song Third Eye by Florence + The Machine. It was a large part of my inspiration for this chapter, and a great song. Also, we finally get to learn what the reader’s mysterious mission is, and her real name, I’m excited to see what you think!

Summary: As the reader pursues her mission, she learns more than she bargained for, whilst Dean embarks on a quest of his own- to discover what, exactly, you’re hiding. Old loyalties clash with new bonds, but a deal is a deal, and the price must always be paid.

               It had to be there somewhere. You’d inspected every inch of the room with a critical eye, but had found nothing but cobwebs, dust, and a very frightened mouse. You began to doubt your information- perhaps the map you’d studied and committed to memory had been wrong. Perhaps there was no secret door. For a split second, you hoped that you could write off the entire mission, hoped you could be done with the espionage and the act, hoped you could be the person Dean thought you were. Ah, wishful thinking. A fool’s greatest enemy. You pressed on a loose brick, and the entire wall swung away, revealing a dimly lit passageway, and you frowned. 

                  There were countless chests and trunks and safes lining the walkway, the damp stone smelling of mildew and whispering echoed secrets and names long-dead into your bones. When had the living last walked there? There was a moment when you paused, certain you’d heard something, saw a flicker of movement in the corners of your vision, but as you turned to look, there was nothing but eerie shadows and thick layers of dust. You knew better than to keep looking- things that dwelled in darkness did not take kindly to strangers, and so long as you pretended to believe that the odd shapes in your peripheral were your imagination, you would be unharmed. 

                  You let your hands run over the thick tomes penned in tongues so archaic your ancestors couldn’t even remember. There was one book you needed, the words between its covers so much more than letters or prose. A book to doom or save the world, to complete your quest. If it truly existed, you knew it would be found somewhere in the unorganized mess. The map of the Bunker had proved accurate, and if it was right, there was a dungeon further back in the hidden passageway. What it held, you didn’t know, but if it was worse than the palace’s prisons, built for things stronger than Hell could contain, you didn’t particularly care to find out. 

                 Your time was ticking away every day you spent in the hidden area, combing through every shelf for the one book you needed desperately. You sat alone before an easel,  brush in one hand and palette of paints in the other. The deadline looming over you added to the stress you were under. How could one person be entrusted with the world’s future? Something in you was crumbling, internal barriers of steel and iron cracking. You dreamt of death in a thousand ways, dreamt of eternal darkness behind bars, and when the sunlight touched you, you daydreamed of eyes too green to paint and a child’s romanticized fantasy, of impossible futures. Assassin, Lady, Artist, Spy, Informant. It all simmered within you, threatening to boil over, and yet you could only stare blankly at the canvas. You stood from your stool, and with trembling hands, replaced your supplies. You did not look back at the gallery as you strode determinedly away.

                 Dean knew. He saw you vanish at odd hours, had watched you vanish in a dead-end hall. He knew. And every day, when the two of you sparred, when he listened with a fond smile as you described the technique or history of your favourite paintings, when you stole him away like his own personal saviour before some dignitary or lady could force him into conversation, he waited for you to tell him. Hoped for a sign, some kind of symbol that you weren’t betraying whatever existed between you. You never did. He watched you carefully, your eyes impossible to read, and every time he thought he saw some flicker of regret for the lies, you were distracting him again with a brush of your hand against his. Dean wondered what you were searching for. And when he couldn’t sleep because you haunted him in dreams, too, he asked himself how many lines he was willing to cross for you.

                “Y/N?” “Yes, Dean?” You replied, looking back at Dean from where you’d been admiring an especially lovely oil painting. “I- if there were ever any manner of trouble you were in, you would tell me, would you not? I understand my father has allies that have contributed to the deaths of your family, but you and I, we can put aside old feuds and conquests.” Dean asked, brows furrowed. Your heart stalled. “Be cautious how you speak, Prince. There is power in bloodshed, unbreakable power.” You said slowly, staring at him. “There is greater power than war, Y/N.” He argued. “Not greater than death.” You retorted. “Fate has bound my hands, Your Majesty. The cost of breaking one promise to pursue another is too steep for me to pay.” You stated curtly. Dean’s eyes flashed angrily. “You speak as if the reaper has already appeared before you. Are we not beings of free will? Can we not make our own decisions?” He snapped. You blinked, stepping away in surprise. “I am so weary of the way you make a shadow of yourself, always shutting out any light. You are more than an assassin, Y/N, and I am not my father.” Dean insisted, grabbing your hands in his. You couldn’t speak, shocked at the way he’d seen through you so easily. Had you always been so transparent, or was Dean the only one who could decode you? “There is so much more at stake, Dean. Free will is a luxury I cannot have. I wish I could explain, but the lives on the line are not mine to give away...” You trailed off, surprised when he wiped a tear from your cheek. You didn’t know you had been crying. “You are nothing like your father,” you said, squeezing his hands, “but you will be King, and I will be who I have always been.” “I beg of you, please let me help you.” Dean pleaded, face pained. “This is not your cross to bear.” You shook your head, stepping backwards. He looked angry again, refusing to let you hide the truth with excuses. “Do you think I don’t know that there’s more to you? Am I such a fool in your eyes, Y/N? You may pull away from me all you like, but I have already seen the emptiness in your heart. Are you so afraid of the truth I might find that you would keep nothing but pain to remind you to feel?” Dean demanded. “I am terrified of you, Dean Winchester, and if you were a wiser man, you would be terrified of what I will do. Is that truth enough, Your Majesty?” You whispered bitterly. Dean dropped your hands, blinking away the hurt in his eyes. You walked past him swiftly. “In three days, you will understand. I pray you are elsewhere then.” You said over your shoulder. Dean didn’t turn towards you, shoulders taut as he faced the same direction he had been. You nodded to yourself and left, the silence clinging to you.

                     You slipped into the passageway at midnight. You hadn’t been sleeping. When you weren’t waking up screaming from nightmares, you were dealing with a conflicted conscious about explaining your purpose to Dean. You knew he was hurt. He had offered you help, had offered to help shoulder the weight of this impossible task you were burdened with, but no matter how much you wanted to, you couldn’t let anyone else risk their life for what you’d been working for. You pushed the guilt and the mental image of vibrant green eyes glittering with unshed tears aside and focused. You only had three more days. Three days to get the book, and make your escape. 

                  You almost walked right past it the first time. A plain looking book, average size with a simple red spine, but something about it called to you. The front cover was a familiar symbol. Devil’s Traps were old knowledge. Your heart thudded violently in your chest as you opened the book, flipping past acknowledgements and the foreword, breath catching at what was inside. The only remaining copy of what was written on the Demon Tablet. The only way to keep Crowley, Lucifer, and their followers trapped forever. The book... the book was your salvation. 

              Your head shot up as someone began opening the heavy door to the passageway. You shoved the book into the bodice of your dress and rushed to find a hiding place, skidding around corners and shelves, steps silent even in heels. There- a door in the far back. You didn’t have time to examine it, the footsteps were getting closer, their weight and spacing informing you whoever approached was taller than you and carrying weapons based on the metallic clink. You wrenched open the door, and slid inside the completely dark room, shutting and locking it behind you. You tried to control your breathing as the footsteps halted just outside the thick metal door, wishing you had a weapon of some kind with you. You didn’t dare make a sound until you heard the far door open and shut again, loosing a breath of relief. 

                    “Well, well. Hello there, Darling.” A familiar voice said, posh accent oozing with hostility as every muscle in your body went rigid. You turned slowly. “Fergus.”

               You looked wide-eyed at the red-haired woman before you. “It has to be you, Y/N.” Rowena said gently. There was no love between you, but you were allies against Crowley. “I know Fergus well enough to know he’s already schemin’ against the King. You arrivin’ will give him an opportunity. Yer the only one who knows him and his ways like I do. Yer the only one with enough trainin’ in espionage, and no one knows yer real name or title.” Rowena explained. “I’ll do it.” You said firmly. “Just tell me what you need.”

            Three months later, you’d been captured and thrown into The Cage with Lucifer, courtesy of Crowley. You were nineteen then, and when you finally escaped with Rowena’s aid, you were twenty-two. Your one task was to take out as many of your enemies as possible before letting yourself be captured by King John Winchester’s men, and once you were shipped to a labor camp, a spy awaiting you gave you your next set of commands. Infiltrate the palace, and find The Demon Tablet. You had a year. 

                 By the time you’d been given to Crown Prince Dean Winchester to command, you had but seven months left, and when you finally arrived at the Bunker, you only had two.

                It had been four long and painful years since that fateful day when you’d struck the bargain with Rowena. Four years since since your people had bent the knee and sworn to honor the deal. Four years since anyone had spoken your true name. 

              “This is interesting indeed, isn’t it? This little cat-and-mouse game has been just delightful. I don’t believe I ever learned your name, darling.” Crowley smirked. He was shackled to a chair in the middle of a stone and iron room. The dungeon, you realized. “Why are you here?” You asked breathlessly. The book hidden in your bodice seemed to be mocking you. “The Good King decided I was becoming too troublesome for his liking. I admit, I’m rather curious as to what you’re doing, sneaking about, and here of all places. Don’t tell me- hiding from our Golden Prince Dean?” Crowley asked sarcastically. “You truly don’t know who I am, do you?” You asked, laughing softly. He frowned. “Do they ever come to speak with you?” “Not since I was tossed in here so rudely. Your name, love, if you please.” Crowley growled. “You would find out in three days either way, I suppose. I am Queen of Innisfree, The Morrigan, and in three days time, I will be the one to finally reclaim my people, my lands, my title, and to take freedom back from those of your ilk.” “What is your name.” Crowley seethed, growing impatient quickly. You drew yourself to your full height, a triumphant smirk playing across your lips, a challenge in your eyes. 

                                          “Y/N. Y/N MacLeod.”

TAGS-

Forevers-

@justagirlinafandomworld​

@spnfanficpond​

Dean Babes-

@herfalsegod​

All’s Not Fair in Love and War Series-

@perpetualabsurdity​

[arpwrites]

arpu, how can we connect to our intuition? i know some say "meditate" but my mind is not calm and my butt itches most of the time. i cant stay still

this is actually perfect timing because I’m feeling the same way so helping you is also going to help myself 🌞✊🏽divine timing fr ✨

okay the goal is to get your mind to stop double checking every thought you have. we’re wired to check the veracity of our thoughts and discard ‘nonsense’ that comes from ‘nowhere.’ the subconscious mind kills it before we’re even aware of it. it goes back to the renaissance/age of reason where the scientific method (that was developed largely by muslim/arab scholars btw!) was heralded and factuality became an important component of clear, rational, logical, good thinking. it’s what you’re taught in school now and what is prized in technological societies.

so, we need to let the brain know it’s okay (and encouraged!) to have thoughts where the source of origin is unimportant. fun story: I accidentally did this when I read Einstein didn’t remember anything that could be looked up. this integrated itself into my worldview very deeply very quickly and I found myself remembering only interesting things without remembering or caring what the source was. didn’t help when I couldn’t pull stats out of my ass while arguing with someone, but did wonders for my intuition.

we can do this through repetitive activities where conscious thinking becomes irrelevant and/or you assign importance to ‘nonsense’ thoughts. this is the core of meditation too if you think about it – its about focusing on a single thing and acknowledging thoughts but not involving yourself in them. these activities will calm your mind in a similar way to meditation and also help your restless ass lol

morning pages!!  I personally do this and I love it, it’s helped me grow immensely, I highly recommend it. when you write down every single thing in your head and just empty it out without stopping to consider its worthiness, you are telling your brain every thought is equally important and more of the subconscious intuition comes through to the surface.

random associations!!!!! let your mind wander

play this game with your friend!

pacing! I do this a lot, there’s an origin story if you’re interested lol but the main idea is this: put on music you’ve never heard before and walk really fast and/or run till you can’t think bc you’re barely able to breathe. focus on the music and let your mind wander and go wherever the music takes it. soon thoughts that are completely unrelated will pop up and though they really are nonsense in the beginning, keep encouraging it and u can tell when they eventually have truth to them

dancing! focus on nothing but the music and go crazy. doesn’t matter what kind but fast paced usually works better. don’t think about how to dance, think about it as the music controlling your body! you stop thinking and in that space, u can listen to the under-thoughts that usually go unnoticed

tbh, any activity u enjoy that takes up a lot of your focus + peripheral wandering thoughts. gardening! cutting 1000 stickers by hand! copying a textbook so u study and develop your intuition at the same time! there’s a lot of ways to integrate it into your daily life once u know what it feels like. this is pseudo meditation too btw. 

overthink!!!!!!!!!! I loved doing this as I drove to uni every day lol. i’m not saying to distract yourself while driving! safety is most important!! but after the 100th time I drove the same route, I became a pro at it and my lizard brain took over. it didn’t need my thinking brain to drive. so I thought and thought uncontrollably and my thoughts got more nonsensical and irrelevant and there was no connection and like I said before, they were ridiculous at first. just my fears coming through. but then they started having truth to them and I started getting information about the universe and our purpose etc. etc. I think I had the most breakthrough intuitions while I was in that daze. I could predict things really accurately, it was spooky. I recommend this but its a double edged sword bc overthinking doesn’t help have a happy, healthy life. use it as a stepping stone and don’t! drive!! while u do it. pace instead or pour it into a private tumblr.

also! give importance to these random associations/thoughts! document them or record them however you can. write them down, text it to yourself. this tells your brain they’re valuable and encourages their production

dream journal!! do it first thing as soon as u wake up. and within a week or so you can reliably remember a loooooot of what happens and it also helps lucid dreaming actually. since dreams are nonsense anyway, repeated action tells the brain to encourage these types of thoughts and voila! intuition developed in daily life!

you have to Want it! your intentions create another layer of under-wiring in your brain that grows stronger with use and influences the overall synaptic network esp. the parts that control which thoughts are important and not. so start being curious! let things like trying to make predictions and having super powers take up space in your brain! try and guess things before they happen or guess what random strangers are about to do or predict the score you’ll get on a test. the more you do it, the more u tell your brain this is an Important Activity and then it builds the required ‘code’ to make that function run better. you’ll be completely off in the beginning but then slowly your success rate will climb.

like anything in life, you’ll get a lot better with practice. even if what i’m saying sounds like nonsense rn, try it a few times and you’ll see what I mean. btw, you don’t have to stick to a single method!! switch them around, everything counts as +1. you aren’t starting from zero with every new technique.

these should be enough for you to get a head start! if none of them work, let me know a bit about yourself and I can probably come up with more methods custom made for you~

also, this old post I wrote about meditation might help 🌞

good luck!!!!! hope you have as much fun as I did discovering your spiritual side 🌝💖

edit – special anon message for you: For meditation anon: There's a common misconception that meditation requires you to "quiet your mind" and disallow it to wonder, but really, it's more about getting into a flow state where you allow your thoughts to come and go with ease. It's mindfulness more than anything imo, acknowledging the thoughts but bringing yourself to a point where you aren't questioning/over-analyzing and thus reacting emotionally to them (like you ordinarily would throughout the day). It's okay to get distracted by your external environment or physical sensations, because you definitely WILL as a beginner, and still at times even if you're more advanced. It all comes down to practice, and the point is to train your mind, so any time you lose focus - Don't let it discourage you. Let it be a teacher of sorts. Refocus and try again. As you progress, you'll be less likely to get out of focus. Sitting isn't for everyone, definitely try things Arp mentioned, like walking!

[aboleth-eye]

Hello! Would you have any advice for new DMs/things you wish you had been told when you started DMing? I'd like to try it myself, but I've only ever been a player, and just figuring out where to start is a bit overwhelming! Thank you in advance!

Great Question!  Here are my Lessons Learned from when I ran a game for the first time!  

There are Four Lessons I wish I’d known when I got started:  Have Your Resources Handy, Start Small (3 Parts), Things Go Awry, and Have Fun Together!   ((This is going to be a very long post, so I’ll cap it a little less than halfway down))

1.)  Have Your Resources Handy!

If this is your first time running a Tabletop RPG system, even if you’ve been playing for years, HAVE THE BOOK(S), WEBSITE(S) AND/OR PDF(S) NEARBY!  I’m serious about this, guys!  Playing a game or watching someone else play is a totally different monster to running it!  

When you first declare to the group that you’d like to host a game, I recommend you read the rules over at least two or three times before hand–start with a deep read first to get it all in your head, and then you can choose to speed read once you’ve had some time to digest the rules.  

But even if reading ttrpgs is your thing, have the resources within easy reach.  Either have your laptop available with open tabs to any pdfs/scans of the game source material and any relevant websites (like standard reference document pages), and/or have a physical copy of the game book with you.  If you are running certain monsters or encounters, I also recommend you copy down any stats and information to a separate text document (on laptop or printed) so you won’t have to page through stuff during the game.

2A.) Start Small: The Setting

If this is your first time or fiftieth time running a tabletop roleplaying game, and you are running a new system for the first time, limit the scope of project to start.  Writing campaign and world settings can be very intense, and it is very easy to write something too specific and railroad people into your lore and world.

For instance, don’t create a massive world with a continent of named cities and landmarks!  Don’t plan out every inch of your world, or else it’ll turn into a “fill-in-the-blank exploration” story instead of an organic world you can change as your group learns and grows!

My first campaign started in a very specifically written city on the edge of a vast magical desert.  I planned out a timetable of events that would catapult the players into the “open-world”.  The players noticed this and didn’t appreciate it. 

Also, do not bog your players down with Lore!  I’ve gone into campaigns where you need to know information “for backstory”!  This is your first campaign, it’s good to know what to introduce and when!  A group of starting adventurers typically doesn’t need to know your world’s entire array of deities, pages and pages of history, and legends “that shaped the world”!  You can introduce these things at character creation IF THE PLAYERS ASK, and then slowly dish things out as the characters live in your world.

It’s also good to not ties yourself down to specific placement of towns, countries, cities, landmarks, etc.  Leave the map blank save for the starting area, and any broadly defined areas such as forests and mountains.  Once characters finish their first missions and adventures, they’ll explore!  With all the “white space” of your world, you can insert places and things as you journey with the group!  

One of my favorite encounters when I was very new to D&D was when we accidentally burned down a forest.  We were fighting a massive tiger with a pixie NPC in a forest, and the pixie just trapped everyone (tiger included) in entangling vines.  Our pyromancer in the party tried to set the beast on fire, and they rolled a critical failure.  

The beast was set on fire and died!  And so did the pixie!  And now there’s a raging forest fire we have to run from!  We get an oxcart running and we take shifts to outrun the magical fire–FOR THREE DAYS!  It was an incredibly tense situation, and it was fun to add “an entire forest” to the pyromancer player’s list of things they set on fire.

You know what would have made all that suck?  If the DM had decided: “Okay, you pass through this location which is a lich’s hideout and have to face that; then the next day you’ll have to ford a river with the tired oxes.  Finally, you’ll be passing through this county’s border…”  

We just burned down a placeholder  forest, and all the consequences that came with it came AFTER we were finally safe!  The DM didn’t bog us down with heavy lore and their maps during a tense situation; they kept the focus on the action at hand.

Prioritize the players’ story before your own!  That’s the lesson I want to make absolutely clear.  You aren’t telling your story with friends as the characters; the Dungeon Master/Game Master/Storyteller is the worldbuilder who tells the character groups’ story as they interact with the world.

2B) Start Small: The First Encounters

Another item I want to bring up is Do Not Start Your Campaign with a “Unique Encounter”!  Start your campaign setting with a simple task for the players to face.  Here are the kinds of challenges I mean: defeat a bunch of zombies in a graveyard for a reward, go into a mine full of bats to retrieve a homing beacon, follow a simple mystery to find a girl’s lost dog, etc.  The Players’ should be introduced to your world with something simple to follow–that way they can make their marks and introduce how they roleplay to the story.  

Do Not try something you’ve “never seen before”!  Don’t have the characters whisked off to another plane or world while they slept!  Don’t have the players face fifteen or so mooks at once during an ambush!  Don’t have your characters struggle to tread water or leap floating platforms while fighting a monster!  These kinds of encounters instantly put players on guard and feel railroaded!  Give them the chance to decide how they integrate themselves into the adventure.

My first campaign violated this rule.  When the players left the city to enter the desert, they were suddenly beset by 12 monstrous scorpions!  And me, in my ambitious tunnel-vision, thought it’d be interesting to have each scorpion have its own turn.  I rolled twelve Initiatives for the scorpions and it was a LONG combat when it clearly didn’t have to be.  

It all looked so good in my head, but when you get players involved you can tell how grueling and boring something like that could be.  I learned a lot that session.

That combat ended the campaign for me.  I decided to go back to the drawing board because that kind of thinking was not going to fly for me and my friends.

Instead, give your players a task that could easily be solved in one or two sessions!  Do not give your players “only one way” to solve this!  For instance, if your first challenge is to get past some guards, let the players come up with the solution themselves.  They might decide to fight the guards, use magic/science to teleport past them, go off on a side quest to become guards so they can infiltrate them, or even walk up and attempt to socialize with them.  You as the storyteller/DM merely narrate the results of whatever the characters do; just bridge the gaps and think of consequences from the players’ actions.

ALSO!  Have a time limit for your first session, or plan breaks for food/drink/stretching.  This activity of DMing can be very stressful, and you might need a break to take stock of what problems and choices occurred during play.  

2C.) Start Small: The Players

Have your players build starting or low-level characters (I typically start with 3rd level for D&D).  The low levels will mean most powergaming and gamebreaking attempts by certain types of players will be nipped in the bud right from the start.  It will also typically limit the powers and abilities of your group (so you won’t have to memorize or look up high-level stuff until much later).  

Another thing I highly recommend is that you are present during character creation!  Do not let people determine/roll character abilities and stats without you.  Either be physically present when dice get rolled and abilities get determined, or be present digitally in a chatroom, discord or roll20 when electronic character sheets get filled in!  

My first campaign I allowed one of the players to bring a character from a friend’s campaign into it.  The original DM ended the campaign; and even though I had played in that campaign alongside this character I had no clue what they could do.  This made things challenging because this character “suddenly” remembered they could fly–so I had to add aerial combat onto my plate during the first fight of the campaign.

It made the situation tense, especially with my bad early encounters (see the 12 Scorpions combat above).

3.) Things Go Awry

If you’ve come this far, there’s one last piece of advice I want to give you.  Your first campaign is gonna suck in one way or another.

I don’t mean that to be disheartening; I want you to think of it as a learning experience.  Whenever a person learns a new skill or engages in a new activity for the first time, it’s always gonna suck.  (Even if someone has a “natural talent”).  You as the DM/Storyteller are going to notice problems crop up left and right; especially if you don’t take the advice I offered above.  For instance, if you start learning to paint with a new medium or start a sport you’ve never tried; you need to practice with the tools and techniques you’ve prepared to see what works for your style of learning.  

Running a roleplaying game is a very unique mashup of activities.  There’s typically a math element you need to consider behind every action the players take.  You need to workout your improvisation skills to bridge connections and gaps your players make.  You need to get in front of a group of people (sometimes more or less experienced than you) and tell a story that keeps their attention.  It’s a stressful mix of being an improv actor, a storyteller and the physical laws of your world.

Hopefully your players will understand when things get crazy and overwhelming.  Gametime might come to a halt because you need to look up a specific rule or wording that you aren’t familiar with.  It’s okay.  Until you get to know how your game world runs with your players in it, it is totally fine to take a breath and think things through.  Oftentimes you can ask your players for help in making a determination or house-ruling.

Last note on this topic: Get Feedback!  At the end of the session, be bold and ask your players if they enjoyed the session, what they liked and what they didn’t like.  Feedback is how DMs get insight on how the game is playing out.  While you’re DMing, your mind is on a million different topics; let the players tell you how they felt during gameplay, so you know what made them feel good or bad on the other side of the curtain.

4.) Have Fun Together!

This is something that needs to be said, if I’m honest.  Running a game can be a stressful activity that “ruins” some things about it now that you are “behind the curtain”.  This is your first session, in what you hope to be a series of games where you and your friends make all sorts of memories.

However, some DMs get incredibly discouraged and no-nonsense when they run a game for their first few times.  That is understandable, especially if being the “mastermind” is a challenge you haven’t prepared for.  A few sessions in and you might find the game isn’t fun for you and/or your players.  That might be a sign that you need to take a break from hosting–use that time to think how you can make the game fun for everyone, or if this campaign just needs to be scrapped!

The priority of the DM is to bring people together.  If a game system, campaign concept or player actions aren’t making the group (you included) happy; it’s better to stop things and take stock before things go too far.  It is never fun to admit your game isn’t viable or enjoyable, but hopefully you’ll have new experience you can take with you the next time you try your game.  

And heck, if you find you prefer playing at this time, that’s fine!  Even if this attempt didn’t have the results you expected, there is nothing to stop you from trying again later if you wanted.  But now that you know how it is behind the curtain, you are naturally more observant to how your own DM/GM runs their games and you can learn from it.

Remember how good the game system/lore/etc made you feel!  It’s why you wanted to DM in the first place; you recognized you had a story you wanted to tell, and this ttrpg had the tools to bring it to life!  No matter what problems arise when you’re behind the curtain, the game should still bring you enjoyment whether you play or manage the game.  Do not give up on the game just because of one bad session or two!  

When I decided to end my campaign, it really was a painful decision.  I loved the world as it was in my mind, but I was not executing it well so that my players enjoyed it.  I got feedback after that terrible 12 Scorpions combat, and decided to take some time to think about everything.  Our group went back to our original DM, with other members trying to DM in that time; and honestly I didn’t DM until I started a small separate group months later.  

During that gap in DMing I digested what I liked and didn’t like about my campaign, and had more time to reflect on the rules.  I decided to take a few steps back and learn from my mistakes.  I still made mistakes the second and third times I DMed, I make mistakes even to this day.  

But at the heart of it all, I love games so much that I want to constantly make my stories and worlds even better, even to this day.

I take the struggles of DMing as learning experiences, rather than let them define me as a writer, storyteller and game master.  I use them as stepping stones so I don’t fall through the gaps again.  I may have started out with a bad first campaign, but I would never take those mistakes away.  

I hope these lessons were helpful!  I love D&D and tabletop roleplaying games so much, and love giving out advice on how to make the experience your own.  I hope this helps a lot of new people bring their stories to life!  Also, I hope I helped everyone’s expectations into the right state of mind.  

Good luck and happy gaming everyone!!  Much love!

– Aboleth-Eye