#i've only written a few small parts so far (something i do with stories i plan to write but who knows if i'll get around to them)

[evermore-fashion]

Did I make a mistake?

As you're all well aware of I said goodbye to my blogs and Tumblr thinking my decision was final. However after reading all your wonderful messages I started to have doubts about my decision. So for the last few weeks I've been trying to pinpoint why I thought I had fallen out of love with high end fashion as well as Tumblr itself and the answer has been in front of my face for the best part of four years. A broken down friendship that has been plaguing my mental health… until recently and I'm going to finally explain why. I had a best friend for the best part of 15 years that went downhill both slowly and unexpectedly. We met on a forum back in 2005 and hit it off instantly. We then met up and went on various holidays, attended concerts together, did mini weekend breaks away and got to know each other's families really well. More importantly they were the only person in my life who knew about this blog and shared my love for high end fashion. Like most friendships though it had its ups and downs but no matter what we always gravitated back towards one another, until March 2020. A week or so before COVID and lockdown took hold of our lives they told me they had met someone. I was genuinely happy for them, except for the fact they had let slip that I was the last person to know. This broke my heart and their trust as they continued to let slip more details that indicated that I was being pushed out in favour of a new crowd (aka university friends who they had told me they disliked a few months beforehand) alongside their new partner. They stayed with their partner on and off throughout COVID and I was either pushed out the door or let back in depending on their relationship status. The relationship came to an end for good towards the end of 2022 and as always I was let back into their life with plans for 2023 being made. However I held back knowing the hurt it would cause me if things suddenly changed again. This was also my breaking point with them as I wanted to protect my heart from anymore hurt, and I believe this is where my love for creativity began to faulter. Whilst I found my love for gaming I felt this mental block around Evermore-Fashion and Evermore-Grimoire which I thought was down to my passions changing. I was clearly wrong. The friendship was up and down for another six months, until last summer. They had got back in contact with me despite the fact they had started acting cold towards me which manifested in a crap Christmas and Birthday. Yet I was still willing to hear their side of the story, but it never came as they ghosted me and I haven't spoken to them since which hasn't been fun to deal with both mentally and emotionally. Although I now fully believe this is what was killing my spirit and everything I had loved for so long. Anyway fast forward to January 2024, I've said goodbye to my blogs and Tumblr when lo and behold I come across a social media post that changed everything. The ex friend had written something personal that contradicted everything they had told me (over their relationship break up) which not only angered me but it lit a fire under my butt to stop stewing in the "what ifs?" as well as holding on to a small bit of hope that they'd finally apologise for treating me like a piece of shit on the back of their shoe for so long. Not only that but I started to miss why I enjoyed being online in the first place. I checked out Vogue to see what was occurring during Paris Fashion Week and I yearned to share the Spring 2024 Couture collections on Tumblr (even though I still think it's still a toxic cesspit). Yes I could easily start this up on Wordpress or Instagram but let's face it, Tumblr is still the easiest place to start blogging creatively. So here I am. The fog surrounding my love for fashion has lifted alongside the mental and emotional baggage I've been holding on to for far too long. There's just one thing I'm still wondering though… do you guys forgive me (as I feel like I've messed you all around ) and is it okay to come back? 🥹

[ichatake]

SECOND CHANCE PT.2

Request are open! Request rules here!

Part. 1, Part. 2

Pairing: Obito x reader x Kakashi

Summary: Obito, after surviving the war was allowed back into the village. You made it your mission to make sure he gets completely rehabilitated. However, a certain someone gets jealous at the loss of attention.

Warning: mentions of blood, slight violence.

A/N: Finally the long awaited part. 2 has come out! I really focused on making this a better chapter than the first one, and was written a little less rushed. I really enjoy how I've developed the story, and I hope you guys do too! Thank you so much for all of your support, and I hope you enjoy! (Also I reread this a few times but there still might be a few mistakes here and there, sorry!!)

The atmosphere was oppressive and thick, the heavy rain showing no signs of ceasing as you trudged forward on the muddy path. Your two students followed close behind you, tired and worn out after so much non-stop walking. Their feet got stuck in the thick mud, feeling heavy and wet as it stuck to their shoes and weighed them down relentlessly. Yet you seemed restless and preoccupied—a far-off look on your face that they had never seen before. It suggested that your mind had wandered elsewhere; somewhere far from where the mission demanded it to be. 

Toko’s voice had been the one breaking your train of thought for only a moment, his words carrying a hint of concern as he spoke. “Sensei, it’s been hours—the weather isn’t getting any better, and we can barely see through this fog. We should take shelter,” he suggested tiredly, noticing that you were already a fair distance ahead of them. 

“Seek shelter where, idiot? We’re stranded—stuck in the middle of nowhere, this damn rain isn’t doing us any favors, and we can barely see anyone who might be standing a good few feet away from us. You’re just wishing that we get ambushed by rogue ninjas, aren’t you?” Kenji blurts out irritably, his mood further battered by the horrible weather. He hated being tired—more than he already was. However, despite the bickering, you didn’t slow down. It seems as if you hadn’t even heard their small exchange, which they noticed immediately. Has something happened? You hadn’t muttered a word since you left the village—so something was obviously wrong with their teacher who showed this uncharacteristic behavior. 

Toko quickened his pace, catching up to you and running in front of you, forcing you to halt before you could collide with him. “Sensei?” He called out to you, concern evident on his expression as he scanned your face. 

“Huh?” You blink, “What are you doing? We still have a long way to go, we need to keep moving,” you reply as you look at your map. It was… drenched and torn in some places, making it difficult to make out its content. Nonetheless, you refused to stop now, despite the mist obscuring your path and vision. 

As if things couldn’t possibly get worse, it began thundering, prompting all the three of you to look up at the gray sky. The fact that the weather wouldn’t improve any time soon had you release an annoyed sigh, leading you to fold your damp map and stuff it inside your pocket. Toko’s facial expression seemed to relax slightly, a glimmer of relief evident on his face. “So,” you exclaim, arms crossing over your chest as your eyes fixed on the dark haired boy standing before you. “What do you propose we do—better yet, where do you suggest we stay?”

“Well, I’ve seen a few lamps here and there—fences as well. So we aren’t in a completely secluded area,” he observes, scanning his surroundings, only to find gray mist obstructing his vision. “So, you want to stray from the path to find a shelter?” you ask once more, rubbing your throbbing head with the palm of your hand. “We couldn’t possibly be near a place to stay, we’re—,” 

“Look, right there,” Kenji suddenly pointed in another direction. As both you and Toko shifted your attention towards the direction pointed, you saw a faint glow cutting through the dense fog. You were cautious at first, hesitating and wondering if it was worth pursuing. For all you knew, it might be someone following you. However, as you closed the distance between the light and the three of you, a small cabin surrounded by low wooden fences came into view. They seemed more decorative than practical, in all honesty, considering their height made them ineffective to keep anyone out. 

“Be careful,” you caution your students as you approach the door. The thunder was getting worse, so if whatever—or whoever stayed here had the heart to give refuge to three Konoha shinobi, you’d deeply appreciate it. 

You firmly knock on the door—the cabin’s exterior is made out of the same dark-hued wood, while the roof was constructed from heavy metal. You heard shuffling from the inside, and finally, the door opened. An elderly lady, short and plump, gazed up at you, a hint of concern falling onto her features as she noticed your weary state. “Oh dear,” she mutters in concern as she examines all three of you. You were drenched and covered in mud, in need of assistance. In other words, you looked horrible and helpless. With one glance at your headband, she instantly recognizes the familiar leaf symbol, her eyes darting to your face as though she’d seen you before. 

“I’m sorry to bother ma’am,” you begin, your voice laced with the chill of the cold weather, your cheeks cold and red, “But would you be willing to provide us refuge until the weather gets any better?” the lady gazes downwards, contemplating your request before nodding in agreement. She opens the door wider, signaling for you and your students to enter. She certainly wouldn’t like being outside in this weather. “Come, come. Hurry,” she beckons, her hospitality reaching you.

You, Toko, and Kenji step inside hurriedly, muddy shoes leaving messy footprints on the floor, turning the wood into a mess. You looked down at your mess, opening your mouth to apologize, but the elderly lady swiftly reassures you. “Don’t worry about that, I’ll clean it up later,” She takes the heavy bags from your back,  placing them near the fireplace to dry. “You must be freezing, I’ll get you some nice, warm clothes and—,”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you begin, waving your hands in front of you, “You don’t have to go through the trouble—,” 

“Oh shush, this is no trouble at all, dear,” she reassures you as she disappears into another room, briefly leaving the three of you standing awkwardly at the door as you wait. You take the initiative to remove your dirty shoes, before glancing at your students tentatively. “Take your shoes off,” you swiftly say, considering it impolite to wear shoes indoors. They comply, placing them at the doorway where yours were placed neatly, “I’m guessing this two day mission is going to take a little longer than expected,” Toko complains, only straightening up when he sees the lady coming back carrying some nice traditional-looking robes. 

“Here, these will fit perfectly. You two are about the same size as my grandsons,” she smiles, pinching Toko’s cheek affectionately and handing him the robe, repeating her actions with Kenji, causing him to become a little flustered. 

“And this is for you,” she kindly hands you a robe in a deep shade of purple, “This was my daughter’s, but it hasn’t been in use in a long time,” Grateful for her actions, you take the piece of clothing and bow respectfully, showing your deep gratitude, “Thank you, I appreciate this a lot ma’am. How can I ever repay you—,” you start, only to be interrupted by the lady.

“Don't be silly, dear. There’s no need for that,” she smiles, patting your cheek while dismissing your offer of repayment. “Come, I’ll show you where you can get changed into these warm clothes,” she guides you three down the hallways of her home, leading the boys to a room, while you are taken to another. “Here you are,” she smiles, opening the door for you. “I’ll prepare some soup for you, make yourself at home,” she closes the door behind you, leaving you to change into the clothes she had provided you with.

The room was empty, with clear signs that someone had previously lived there before your intrusion. Photographs of a young woman and a few more family members decorated the walls, making you slightly uncomfortable at the thought that you were intruding on a family home. However, you pushed the thoughts away as you began peeling off your soaked clothes.

‘Just know that I’m sorry’

Kakashi’s words still echoed softly through your head like a faint lullaby. ‘I should’ve said something’ you thought, releasing a heavy sigh you had been holding in you ever since you left the village. A pang of regret tugged at you as you sat on the edge of the bed, draped in the silk robes that fit you like a glove. ‘He apologized and I didn’t even say anything,’ you rub your temple, your head throbbing in pain. It was a constant companion since you’d left the village, and now It seemed that you finally had time to dwell on the events that occurred these past few weeks. Now that you were away from both Obito and Kakashi, there was space to think clearly, undisturbed by their presence.

Your heart squeezed at the thought of Kakashi—a bright blush staining your cheeks. He had confessed his feelings for you—Kakashi Hatake—the man whom everyone believed would remain lonely throughout the remainder of his life. The man that never seemed to fall for anyone. He let himself become vulnerable for you, a side of him you had never witnessed, and you had shut him out. You gently smack yourself on the cheek, reprimanding yourself for your actions, “I’m such an idiot,” you murmur. You had potentially ruined a once-in-a-lifetime relationship with the man you had feelings for! You’ve liked this man for years, and you rejected him—technically rejected him—over a man who you barely knew.

In that moment, you realized the fault in your actions. You had been blinded by a foolish crush that you failed to recognize the differences between the two men. Kakashi was right, Obito wasn’t the same boy he once was. He was a man who had altered ideals, someone bent on reshaping reality as he pleased. He was a broken man that changed all throughout those lonesome years. You didn’t know him; you had a painted image of who he could possibly be. In contrast, your relationship with Kakashi was built with shared experiences and vulnerabilities. You two taught together, fought together, cried together. He’s seen you at your most vulnerable state and you’ve seen him in his. And that’s what you pushed aside? For someone who could be considered a stranger? Because Obito had not cried with you, had not fought with you, had not been there for you when you were hurt. All you knew about Obito was what he wanted you to know. You knew what he told you. You knew what you saw.

You rubbed your temple, attempting to dispel the thoughts from running your mind. Dwelling on them would only amplify the growing stress you had. There was no point in thinking about this now, considering how the mission demanded your full attention. Finally standing up, you opened the sliding door and stepped out, hearing the faint voices coming from the direction you had come from before. They were your students. The floorboards creaked under your feet as you approached them, their heads turning towards you when you finally got there. They had been sitting down on the floor at the table—waiting for something, you assumed.

“Hey sensei,” Toko grins, “Take a look at these,” He stands up and shows off his clothing, “They fit perfectly,” he strikes a pose, ultimately leading to Kenji pulling him down to sit, “Sit down and be quiet will you? (Y/N) sensei already looks tired enough for you to wear her out any more,” he rolls his eyes as Toko began to protest, “What’s your deal Kenji, I’m trying to show off these cool robes!” he exclaims, plopping down cross-legged, sulking playfully.

You can’t help but let out a chuckle at their banter, taking a moment to glance around the cabin, “They look fine,”you say, and as you gazed at the home, you noticed the lady was inside of what you assumed to be the kitchen. You approach the table and sit down, getting comfortable on the small cushion that was beneath you.

“Say, how’s Obito? I haven’t heard from him in a while,” Toko questions, leaning back and putting all his weight on his hands. The question makes you gaze up at him, and you shrug, “He’s been fine. He just hasn’t gone out lately. He’s used to being indoors all the time, so I don't blame him for always wanting to stay in the house,” Toko groans, pouting, “Oh man, I really wanna see him again. He’s so cool,” he says, straightening up, “Even if he was part of what happened… you know,” he adds, referring to the war, while glancing down at his legs, “I think he just needed someone to talk to,”

You observe Toko with soft eyes, watching how he spoke so empathetically. The boy has always had a gentle heart, sometimes too gentle. His empathy towards others was part of who he was. “I think so too,” you nod slowly in agreement while giving him a smile, Kenji looking away moments after, “It’s sad, you know?” Kenji mumbles, suddenly fixated on the floorboards as he tried to find the right words, “I remember what he said during the war. His reasons for the infinite Tsukuyomi,” he frowns, continuing “A person can be so lonely to the point where they need to distort reality,”

Your eyes fell on his expression, noticing the deep sadness etched on his face. “I understand why he did it,” he whispers, sighing and shrugging his shoulders, “But you know, it doesn’t mean what he did was okay,” You nod in agreement when he says this, replying “However, we shouldn’t focus on the past. Sure, it’s important to know what he did, but what matters is that he accepted change,” you smile warmly, “And he is willing to take another chance at life,”

“As he should, he would’ve been an awesome sensei,” Toko grins, making you playfully raise a brow at him, “Now hold on a second Toko, you’re not liking him better than me, are you?” you ask as you lean forward to look at him, making him shake his head furiously, “No! Of course not!” he chuckles nervously, his eyes darting around the room before insisting “You’ll always be the best teacher,” a soft hum of contentment escapes you, pleased with his answer.

“Alrighty kids, supper is ready,” the elderly lady suddenly approached the table with a gentle smile, carrying a heavy-looking metal pot brimming with soup. The smell was absolutely enticing, leaving you with a rumbling stomach and great anticipation. Toko eagerly rises, offering his assistance, “Let me help you,” he says, carefully taking the steaming pot and setting it down on the table, “Oh, thank you dear, could you be so kind and help me with the bowls as well?” She asks and without a moment’s hesitation, he nods and strides towards the kitchen to look for the wooden bowls she had pointed him to.

“I hope you like the soup, it’s my special recipe,” the old lady smiles as Toko sets down the bowls. She diligently pours the warm, flavorful broth into each bowl, her smile growing. “This was my grandsons’ favorite meal. They would beg for me to cook them some soup late at night,” a hearty chuckle escapes her, “Dig in,” 

All three of you exchange glances before turning your attention towards the lady, sincere gratitude etched on each of your faces, “Thank you for this wonderful meal,” you express your appreciation, giving respect for her before digging in. All of you begin to eat, and the moment the warm liquid envelopes your tongue, your soul leaves your body. You had never tasted soup this good. 

Toko’s eyes light up at the taste as well, “Oh man, this is amazing!” he exclaims and sips down the warm soup savagely, causing Kenji to snarl and smack Toko on the back of his head, scowling at him, “Stop eating like a pig,” he snarls, making Toko glare at him. “I’m not! You’re just so used to eating like a little prince, you don’t know what enjoying a delicious meal actually looks like,” he argues, setting the bowl down. They once again started bickering, which made your brow twitch in annoyance. They seemed to never stop bickering, not even when they’re tired. “You better stop it before I knock some sense into both of you,” you warned, making them stop momentarily, exchanging glares before they continue eating. 

You exhale deeply, shifting your gaze down to the soup in front of you. The lady sits across from you, her warm presence a comforting sight. “Thank you so much for taking us in, and I’m sorry about the boys and their bickering. I promise they’re better behaved than this” you thanked her, bowing your head in appreciation. “If it weren’t for you ma’am, we would’ve been freezing out there,” 

“It’s nothing, my dear,” she reassures you, her hands gently wrapping around a clay mug filled with steaming tea, “I could never leave you out there. Not when you’re from the leaf village,” Her statement hangs in the air as she takes a slow sip of her tea before examining your face intently. “Huh?” you respond, furrowing your brows in curiosity at what she means. The lady chuckles at your reaction before she sets the mug down. 

“My husband was a leaf ninja, such a nice man he was. May he rest in peace,” she places a hand on her chest, “I welcome Ninja from anywhere. I help anyone who needs it,” she looks at you as her gaze softens, “And you certainly needed it,” 

You chuckle sheepishly, humbled by her kindness, “Well regardless, I appreciate what you’ve done for us,” The lady waves her hand, “No need to thank me,”

After the meal, the atmosphere in the room relaxes as Toko and Kenji seem to die down. The persistent harsh weather outside was still going, and it was clearly draining their energy. The lady offered them a room so they could sleep in, and they immediately accepted her offer. They bid you goodnight and went to bed, leaving you sitting on the floor. The old lady was recounting to you some of her life stories, and you politely listened to her. You were glad, because it kept your mind away from Kakashi and Obito. 

“You know, I didn’t know if it was really you, but now that I see you up close, it’s definitely you,” the lady smiles widely, making you raise a brow, “What?” you ask and the lady gives you a nod, “I know you. I saw you when you were just a little teen,” she pours you a warm cup of tea, “You had been wounded, and a young boy brought you here,” 

You listened intently as she recounted the story, a puzzling frown decorating your face. You never recalled being here, even though you have gone to the mist village before, “I’m… sorry? I don’t recall that happening…,” you respond, meeting her gaze with uncertainty as she shook her head, “Well of course not, you were unconscious. The boy had brought you here because you needed medical attention. Nothing bad happened to you, just a few cuts here and there, but you were exhausted and fell unconscious,” the statement lingered in the air for a few seconds before you spoke up. 

“So you’re saying you saved my life before? Who was the boy?” 

“A silver haired boy, with a mask. Such a sweet boy. He never let go of your hand while I patched you up,” she chuckles, “He was very worried about you,” 

A flicker of realization crossed your face as the lady’s description reminded you of Kakashi. The memory of an old mission to the Mist village surfaced in your mind. You recalled the long and exhausting battle that led to your loss of consciousness. However, when you had awakened, you were already in the Konoha hospital. Kakashi had carried you all the way there, and you had been left with only hazy fragments of what happened. 

“So that’s…” a grateful smile tugs at your lips, “I never got to thank you,”

“Don’t worry, the boy had already thanked me enough,” she grins, “Do you still speak to that young man? Because a boy like that would’ve had me swooning,” your cheeks flushed at her comment, the corner of her lips raised in a smirk as she awaited your reply, “We still talk, but it’s nothing like that,” you clear your throat, “Well that’s just a waste,” she huffs in feigned disappointment, “You young people and your complicated feelings,”

“We just aren’t… well, we haven’t talked about it,” your cheeks flared with embarrassment as the conversation shifted to your love life. You found it pitiful that you were speaking about this with a woman you just met. But hey, they say old people know better than younglings, and you could definitely use some wisdom and understanding from someone like her. “Is that so? Then there must be another man in the picture,” shock flickered across your features as your eyes widened. Was she some sort of witch or something? How’d she know?

“Oh don’t look at me like that, I’ve lived in this world long enough to know what’s going on,” she laughs, “So, who’s the other man,”

“I uh… well…,” you sigh, looking at your hands, “This boy you mentioned, the silver haired boy, he and another boy were friends. I was friends with them too. We would’ve grown up together, but… things happened and the other boy and I… drifted apart,” you explain, trying to be as specific as possible without giving too much detail. 

“Then what’s the hard choice?” the woman inquired, her brow raised in curiosity as she tried to understand your situation, “Well, me and the silver haired boy drifted apart as well, but when I became a teacher, we kinda began speaking a lot again. Then the other boy came back into my life, and now the silver haired man is starting to drift apart from me again,” you explained yourself, but in all honesty, you were barely making any sense. 

“Drift away this, drift away that,” the woman rolls her eyes, her voice previously laced with sarcasm. “Honey, what you’re saying is making no sense at all,” she shakes her head “So, let me ask you,” she leans in, her eyes locking with yours to find pure honesty, “Who has been there for you the most?” 

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, reflecting deeply on her question. You wanted to be honest with your response, not wanting to inadvertently deceive her. “Well… Kakashi,” you spoke after a few moments of contemplation, your voice soft but earnest. The name left your lips with a certain vulnerability, a mix of emotions attached to it. 

The amused glint in the woman's eyes made your cheeks burn with embarrassment, “I don’t know who Kakahsi is, dear,” she teased playfully. 

You quickly corrected yourself, “The silver haired boy,”

“Then what’s the point of liking the other boy, if the person who has always been with you should be your first choice,” you look down and at your hands, absorbed in her words “I didn’t waste any time. When my husband saved my life, I made sure I married him,” she hums and slowly stands up, “But, it is your choice. What does an old lady like myself know anyways?” she shrugs with a smile, “You should get some rest, you still haven’t completed your mission, and you’ll need all that energy for tomorrow”

Obito peered at the ninja standing in front of him, sizing them up with a thoughtful gaze. He paused for a brief moment before clearing his throat and responding, "A summoning? Urgent?" A glint of curiosity flickered in his eyes as he feigned nonchalance. "I’m guessing this must be really important then?" he mused, noticing the confused expressions on the faces of the ninjas before him. "Naturally, given the Hokage's busy schedule, any meeting he initiates is bound to be of utmost importance," the men responded, avoiding any unnecessary conversation.

Obito sighed, stepping outside and addressing the ninja with a hint of irritation, "Very well, let's not keep your precious Hokage waiting any longer," Despite his attempt to conceal his feelings, a tinge of bitterness laced his voice. He wasn't apprehensive or troubled; he was simply curious. After so long without exchanging words, what could be so important that the Hokage had summoned him in such haste? It was suspicious to him. Nonetheless, he followed the men closely, "Any idea why he would want to see me all of a sudden?" His question was met with pure silence. 

Obito walked quietly, his eyes taking in the changes that had swept over the village since his absence. New buildings had appeared, old shops had vanished, and even the places he used to visit with Kakashi and Rin were nowhere to be found. The realization of all he had missed out on weighed heavily on him. As the Hokage building loomed into view, he looked up at the window where he suspected Kakashi might be, feeling the weight of his gaze boring into him. Climbing the stairs and reaching the Hokage's door, the ninja escorting him left him there all by himself.

Obito's eyes closed for a moment as he readied himself for the impending encounter. With a firm pull, he opened the door, his gaze falling upon the silver-haired man who stood by the window, engrossed in thought and clutching a stack of paperwork. Something within Obito stirred the moment his gaze fixated upon that white Hokage robe that Kakashi wore, a pang of realization hitting him. Kakashi was living the dream that Obito had envisioned for himself, or at least what his dreams had been before life took unexpected turns. Turns he took by his own resolve. 

Obito stood there, his voice carrying a hint of statement rather than question. "You called for me," he said in a matter-of-fact tone, causing Kakashi to turn his attention towards him. With a deliberate motion, Kakashi set the papers he held onto his desk before sliding into his seat and replying, “Yes, we need to talk,”

Obito crossed his arms defiantly and stood a few feet away from Kakashi's desk, the silence between them weighed down by his sardonic tone. "Well I assumed so," he replied, his sarcasm hanging heavily in the air. "I suppose you didn’t just summon me here to jump rope," there was a moment of silence once he spoke, Kakashi’s eyes burning into him. 

"I'd appreciate it if you could reserve your sarcasm for a later occasion." Kakashi responded with a weary sigh, his annoyance evident as he spoke. Frustration was etched on his face, a clear indication of the stress and irritation he was experiencing. 

Obito uncrossed his arms in a display of carelessness, his gaze shifting away from Kakashi. “Yeah, whatever,” There was a moment of impatient silence as he waited for Kakashi to speak, fidgeting and shuffling on his feet expectantly.

Kakashi paused briefly, his gaze skimming over several reports scattered on his desk. With a glance raised towards Obito, his eyes met his, "As I was saying," he continued, "I've observed that your interactions with (Y/N) have yielded positive results. Her reports on you have been consistently favorable, and your acts of kindness towards others in the village haven't gone unnoticed." He paused once more, briefly glancing back down at the reports before returning his gaze to Obito.

It was remarkable how much the human body could endure, Kakashi thought to himself. Obito’s own body bore testament to that—scarred, battered, and permanently marked from the aftermath of war. Tsunade, in her medical prowess, had managed to restore parts of his body using his own cells, but the scars that had ingrained themselves on his skin stayed, indomitable, a constant reminder of his battles.

Obito's gaze traveled from the bookshelf to Kakashi, his stomach flipping at the revelation that you had been speaking highly of him. It filled him with a sense of satisfaction, knowing that his efforts had not gone unnoticed. Despite his own self-doubt, the knowledge that you found improvement within him gave him a sense of validation and contentment.

Kakashi's tone turned more serious as he continued, "Based on (Y/N)'s reports and my trust in her words, I've decided to offer you a position within the Anbu. You'll work under my direct supervision," he stated, his gaze remaining steady, anticipating a look of surprise on Obito's face.

Just as stated, Obito's expression twisted into a bewildered frown as the words left Kakashi's mouth. "You must be joking," he exclaimed, his disbelief evident. He was aware of his own capabilities, but the suddenness of this offer left him taken aback. The idea seemed ludicrous, especially since some within the village still harbored distrust towards him. Was Kakashi truly expecting him to become his personal assassin?

"You want me to become one of your assassin dogs?" He let out scoff, disbelief evident in his tone. "I thought the purpose of rehabilitating me was to prevent me from harming anyone else, given what I've already done," He paused, his expression filled with skepticism.

Kakashi leaned back in his chair, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. He observed Obito intently, "Yes," he acknowledged, "But I've had a change of mind. You possess the potential for greatness," he said, a hint of conviction in his voice. He paused for a moment before continuing, "It might even be beneficial for you. It'll keep you occupied, you'll earn your own income, and you'll get to experience the life of a shinobi once again," Kakashi explained, his gaze never leaving Obito.

Obito stared at Kakashi in shock, trying to process his words before speaking again, “What are you trying to say?”

Kakashi's tone remained firm and authoritative as he clarified his words. "What I'm trying to say is that by joining the Anbu, you'll earn my trust and secure yourself a decent position within the village. To be clear, I'm not asking for your permission. It's not a request," he reiterated, emphasizing the gravity of his demand.

“Right, you’re demanding I join,” Obito’s lip curls up in a slight snarl.

"You're free to refuse my offer, of course," Kakashi said in a condescending tone. "But doing so will deem you untrustworthy," he continued, his gaze fixed on Obito. "Keep in mind that you're here because I allow it. You're not exactly in a position to say no to anything I propose," he affirmed.

Obito's eye widened momentarily as a bitter chuckle threatened to escape his lips. It was a stark reminder that he was at Kakashi's mercy, alive only because the Hokage allowed it. The feeling of being bound and controlled by someone else's authority was not something he had yet forgotten. With a forced smile, he finally responded, "Ah, how could I ever forget," his voice was dripping with sarcasm and resignation.

“Glad to know you wouldn’t,” Kakashi smiled beneath his mask, his eye forming a crescent moon shape in response to Obito's sarcastic remark. He pulled out a bag from under his desk, revealing a familiar grayish-black uniform neatly folded inside. With a steady hand, he placed it on top of the desk. Next, Kakashi pulled out another object, a pristine white porcelain mask, molded into the shape of a bird. Obito recognized it as an Anbu mask; he had seen them before, or rather, he had once worn one alongside Itachi. Yet, the eeriness of this particular mask sent a chill down his spine.

Instead of the usual frown associated with the animal masks, this one possessed a unique feature: the red lines that adorned it curved upwards into a sinister smile, stretching nearly from ear to ear. The expression seemed far from natural, as if it was designed for intimidation rather than mere concealment. Furthermore, there was only one eye hole, while the other side was veiled and painted red, where his left eye should have been.

"So, you've been planning this for a while," Obito remarked, his tone containing a hint of sarcasm. "I'm assuming you don't have a spare Anbu mask with only one eye hole," Obito observed, causing Kakashi to chuckle. "I suppose so,"

Obito accepted the mask and uniform, his gaze fixated on the plastic bag as if he was contemplating the decision. However, deep down, he knew he had no choice in the matter. As if to add to the already less-than-ideal news, Kakashi spoke up again, "With this new job, you'll have to move out of (Y/N)'s house." He paused before continuing, "No one can know your identity as an Anbu member. Only a select few will be privileged enough to be privy to that information, and (Y/N) will not be among them."

Obito started to open his mouth to protest, but was interrupted by Kakashi's silencing gesture, his words cutting him off before he could speak. "I've already found a nice apartment for you, temporarily," Kakashi informed him, "You'll move out of her house while she's on her mission. That gives you about two to three days, maybe four if things get complicated and they get delayed due to the bad weather." Obito stayed quiet, considering the situation, realizing the reality: he had little choice in the matter. To further solidify his point, Kakashi added a crucial detail, a small nudge that might persuade Obito to comply. Depending on how Obito perceived it, it could either be seen as a subtle manipulation or merely a necessary precaution. "And just to be clear," Kakashi began, his voice firm but not unkind. "The primary reason why you're moving out is to protect (Y/N). You've shown a clear concern for her well-being, and to ensure nothing happens to her, she must remain ignorant of your new role in the Anbu."

"And what does that have to do with me moving out?" Obito asked, his tone laced with hesitation. Kakashi chuckled at his question, "Think about it," he replied, his eyes fixed on the dark haired man. "If word gets out about your identity, and they learn you're living with a woman, she'll instantly become a prime target for other dangerous ninjas." He paused, shrugging his shoulders. "Unless, of course, you want her to end up as rogue ninja bait. Whatever case it is, I suggest you start packing."

Obito's frustration bubbled up inside him, his lips pressing tightly together. He shouldn't feel this way; after all, he was simply moving out. Yet, a pang of disappointment and unease tugged at his heart. He'd lived with you since he returned to the village, and there was no denying that you'd positively influenced him. Your presence had helped him transform in unforeseen ways. He felt comfortable with you, like an old friend. You didn't hold anything against him, only offering care and compassion.

With a resigned sigh, Obito accepted the situation. No point in arguing further. After all, it's not like he wouldn't get to see you anymore. Sure, maybe he'd be busy with his new Anbu duties, but there was no way he'd be swamped 24/7, right? "Fine, I'll move out and join your assassin club. It’s not like I haven’t killed thousands before anyway," he mutters, his arms tensing as he tries to quell the burning feeling in his chest. A nagging anxiety crept inside him, "Is there anything else you'd like to say before I leave?"

Kakashi's brows furrowed, "Just remember that my main intention is to safeguard the village," he said, his voice steady. "You have immense potential that shouldn't be wasted, so try not to hold these circumstances too deeply against me," he added, his expression almost complimentary. 

"Are you trying to flatter me?" Obito almost laughed in amusement, a hint of sarcasm lacing his voice. "You, of all people, dishing out compliments? I never saw that coming." He observed Kakashi's hands as they lowered to his lap with a cold stare, Kakashi's response following quickly, "Take it however you want. Ultimately, I'm making decisions that benefit the village. That's all that matters."

With a slight sense of defeat, Obito picked up the bag containing his new uniform. He couldn't help but let out a bitter chuckle as he held it in his hands. This wasn't the life he'd envisioned for himself as a child, nor was he thrilled to be stepping back into the role of an assassin. But the past couldn't be changed, and here he was. He finally tore his gaze away from the uniform and posed his question, "So, when do I start?"

“I’ll give you your first assignment once you’ve moved out. Come to my office and I’ll present to you your new comrades,”

It was the morning after the storm had passed, and the sky was clear and the sun shone brightly, almost as if there had been no storm the day before. Despite the sunlight, though, the path was still damp and muddy, causing Toko to grumble and complain again. Before leaving, the old lady had packed some meals, bandages, and medical herbs for you and the boys, insisting that you take them. "You don't have to—" you started to protest, only to be cut off by her firm and gentle nudge.

"Oh, hush now," she insisted, continuing to pack your belongings. She filled your bags with supplies, making sure you were well-prepared. "It never hurts to be prepared," she added with a smile. "You don't know when you might need them." As you prepared to set off, the old lady stood in the doorway and waved you a warm goodbye, her expression filled with motherly affection.

Toko waved enthusiastically, a wide grin on his face. "Bye, granny!" he exclaimed, eagerly walking behind you. "I like her," he continued, his voice filled with cheerfulness. "She's just like my grandma." Kenji, who seemed well-rested, walked beside Toko, his expression one of contentment. However, it was suddenly cut short when Toko continued his loud ramblings.

"Keep it down, will you? It's too early for this racket." Kenji grumbled, his tone weary. He shoved his hands into his pockets, obviously not quite fully awake yet. Toko was ready to respond, but your intervention cut him off. "Let's keep the squabbling to a minimum," you advised, peering at the map in your hands with a frown. "We're about to enter dangerous territory, so let's stay focused." You mention, furrowing your brows as you tried to make out the direction you were supposed to head towards. “There’s so many paths… but not a single one connects to the city…,”

Toko's curiosity got the better of him as he peeked over your shoulder, his head tilted to the side as his gaze darted across the map. Confusion etched on his face as he examined the symbols and drawings that adorned the scroll. "Why bother with a map if it won't even guide you to where you need to go?" he questioned, genuinely baffled.

"It's a hidden village, idiot," Kenji interrupted with an exasperated sigh. "If the village was easily found on a map, it would defeat the purpose of being 'hidden.'" He rolled his eyes, continuing his explanation. "They've been kind enough to give us a basic layout of where they are located, so it's better than having nothing at all." You added with a sigh.

Toko opened his mouth to retort, but you quickly hushed him, lowering the map and bringing the group to a halt. You had walked for a good amount of time, and the old lady's house had long vanished from sight. Time had passed faster than you realized, and now you stood before a colossal forest, its towering trees casting a shadowy canopy over the path ahead. As you observed the towering trees that loomed overhead, a nervous churning settled in your stomach. There was an inexplicable unease that gnawed at your senses, even though no foreign chakra presences threatened you at the moment. Perhaps it was the imposing shadows cast by the trees, or the dense mist that engulfed the forest, which left you feeling queasy. Whatever the cause, the feeling was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

As you struggle with the inexplicable feeling, Toko's voice breaks the silence, tinged with concern. He places a gentle hand on your shoulder and asks, "Are you okay, sensei?" With a forced composure, you respond, "I'm fine, we have to go through here,” You take a deep breath, attempting to ease your tensed shoulders. "We should be cautious," you advise, your voice steady as you speak. "There's likely to be traps. We won't be able to see much inside either, so we need to focus." Your hand tightens around the straps of your bag, a comforting reassurance against the uncertainty that lies ahead. “If anything happens, leave your bags and evacuate. If you manage to split up, use paper bombs to find each other. If you can’t find me, leave me behind and forget the mission—,”

“You know we’re not going to do that, sensei,” Toko cuts you off with unwavering worry.

"It's not a request. This is an order. You will follow my instructions, understand?" Your eyes narrow as you address him. "You're both Chunin now, but don't overestimate yourselves. You have limits, and you need to know them." You take a moment to gather yourself, steadying your breath and grip on your kunai. Despite being well-rested, your body felt heavy, and a cloudiness lingered in your mind, despite your attempts to stay focused. "Let's move,"

As you journeyed deeper into the forest, the path became increasingly obscured, shrouded in a dense gray mist that blanketed the ground. Seeing no other option, you curse under your breath, peering up at the towering trees that seemed to stretch endlessly into the sky. "Dammit," you muttered. "Looks like I'll have to climb up there and see if we can find a way out of this forest." With a decisive movement, you buckled your bag tightly on your back, ensuring it was secure before preparing to scale the trees. “I’ll be quick, so you two stay where you are,”

Toko adjusted the straps of his bag, nodding earnestly in agreement. "No worries, sensei," he chimed in, his eyes fixed on you with a confident smile. "We'll keep a watchful eye out for anything suspicious." With a silent understanding between them, Kenji bobbed his head in agreement. The boys had observed your uneasiness since leaving Konoha, and they were trying to ease it. A glimmer of relief washed over you as their reassurance eased the tension in your shoulders, even if just momentarily. You centered your chakra in your feet, preparing to scale the towering trees before you. Sensing that reaching the top of the trees would take you at least five minutes, you mentally steeled yourself to be as swift and efficient as possible.

Despite your best efforts to maintain focus, the unsettling feeling in your stomach persisted, growing more intense with every passing moment. Not being a sensory ninja, you questioned the source of this unease, attributing it to your stress. Was it the conversation that you had with the lady back at the cabin that was making you nervous? Or maybe you were becoming paranoid with each passing second thanks to this mission. As you immerse yourself in your thoughts, your footing falters, and your foot slips on the bark of the tree. You would’ve fallen down, but thankfully your chakra was strong enough to maintain your weight. However, the extra weight of your bag pulled you downward, and a sense of panic surged through you. In a desperate attempt to regain balance, you hastily let your bag fall off your shoulders as you propelled yourself forward, managing to regain your position on the tree trunk once more. The unexpected scare left you panting, your breath coming in ragged gasps. A cold sweat trickled down your forehead as adrenaline coursed through your burning veins. That was a close one, and you couldn’t help but curse yourself out. There was a slight delay, and then the loud thump of your bag hitting the ground echoed through the air, reverberating through the forest.

Craning your neck to look over your shoulder, your eyes widened as the dense mist obscured any view of the ground below. The realization of your position set in, and the thought of plummeting headfirst down to that unseen abyss sent a shiver down your spine. "What the hell is wrong with me?" you muttered under your breath, swallowing the lump of saliva that had accumulated in your mouth. A pang of worry laced your thoughts as you hoped the boys wouldn't panic upon seeing your bag fall.

Climbing the rest of the way up with a moment of hesitation, you finally reached the top of the tree. As you placed your foot on top, a soothing breeze greeted your face, caressing your nose and playfully tousling your hair. The view was breathtaking, a vast expanse of trees stretching as far as the eye could see. Amidst this forest kingdom, your gaze snagged on something significant. "There you are," you murmured as you spotted what you had been searching for.

Toko and Kenji waited anxiously, their backs resting against the trees as they watched you vanish into the distance. After a few minutes, Toko's restlessness got the better of him, and he started fidgeting with his gloves, stealing glances upwards in search of your descent. He turned to face Kenji, who was immersed in his book, and voiced his concern, "Do you think she's alright?"

"She might take a while," Kenji responded calmly, casting a brief glance upwards before returning his attention to his book. "This isn't exactly a small forest. Stop worrying so much." He paused for effect, then added, "It's only been about five minutes, anyway."

Toko let out a sigh, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, maybe I’m worrying too much." He sat down cross-legged on the ground, leaning back on his arms. A lighthearted chuckle escaped his lips as he continued, "I have no idea how you—," His sentence was interrupted by the abrupt sound of something hitting the ground beside them. The unexpected thump caused Toko to jump, his senses alarmed. In a swift motion, Kenji had already tucked away his book and drew his kunai, ready for whatever lay ahead.

Kenji turned to Toko, concern etched on his face, "Toko, you okay?" He asked, searching their surroundings for the source of the sound. Their minds raced with paranoia, convinced that they were being followed and watched. Toko patted himself down, readying his own weapons as he replied, "Yeah, I'm good." Together, they carefully approached the direction they thought the sound had originated from, weapons ready, prepared for whatever danger might await them.

They came to an abrupt halt as they reached the spot and laid eyes on the heavy bag, its contents scattered on the ground. "It's Sensei's bag," Toko exclaimed, lowering his shuriken and rushing toward it.

"She dropped it?" Kenji muttered, his gaze darting skyward in the hopes of seeing you descending from the treetop. However, Toko was unconvinced. "Dropped? That doesn't make sense. Something must have happened," he says, already retracing his steps towards the tree you had initially climbed. Dropping his own bag, he prepared to ascend the tree so he could look for you. 

"She probably dropped it because of its weight," Kenji reasoned, attempting to calm Toko's growing concern, "Maybe it was weighing her down the farther she went." He grabbed Toko's arm and pulled him away from the tree, "Let's wait a little longer. She told us to wait."

"We can't wait!" Toko protested, his voice filled with urgency. "What if someone got to her up there?"

"Then we would have seen her body dropping. Toko, there are so many other reasons why she would have dropped her bag. You're being dramatic." He attempted to reason, only to have his hand slapped away by Toko.

"Dramatic? No, I'm concerned for her safety!"  he retorted, frustration evident in his voice. "You're the one who doesn't seem to care! You never care about anything!" He jabbed an accusing finger at Kenji, his tone laced with anger. Frustration ignited within Kenji as he clicked his tongue at the harsh accusations coming from his friend, "Of course I care, but I also use common sense."

"Common sense my ass," Toko snapped, "You're the last one to talk about common sense." The shift in Toko's tone was familiar territory for Kenji. The implications of his words were clear, a biting jab at something they both knew very well.

"Don't you dare bring that up," Toko warned, his voice a low, sharp hiss. Both of them knew exactly where the conversation was heading, a topic that had been avoided for a long time, but the memories and feelings still lingered fresh in their minds.

“You know exactly what happened, so stop blaming me for everything,” he snarls at his friend, obviously bothered by the matter.

“I blame you because you were stubborn. You think you’re the smartest, strongest ninja out here, and that’s why she died,” Toko argued, turning around to face him fully.

“I didn’t think any of that. You were a coward and you stepped back. We needed that mission more—”

"What we needed was to go back and get help!" Toko’s voice escalated into a yell, frustration reaching a boiling point as he pushed at Kenji. "Don't you dare put your hands on me," Kenji shot back, his own frustration rising. But Toko, fueled by anger and past memories, paid no heed to his warning.

"You left us behind and went on your own, just because you thought you could do anything without us," Toko seethed, grabbing Kenji by the collar. "I would've left, but she was worried for you.” His voice trembled with anger and grief. "And we went back. And she died because you couldn't let go of your pride and forget the mission," the words hung heavy in the air, their impact as potent as a physical blow. That’s why Kenji didn’t think about his actions. He couldn’t, not when he was being accused of something so serious.

Toko's body connected with the ground, his cheek inflamed and stinging from the impact. He looked up to see Kenji towering over him, fist clenched tight. "You bastard," Toko spat, pushing himself up off the ground with a surge of anger. He lunged forward, tackling Kenji to the ground, and his fist shot forward, aiming for his friend's face. However, Kenji was quick to react, pushing Toko off and pulling out a kunai in the blink of an eye.

The situation escalated, and the sight of the drawn weapon and the intent to harm each other fueled the conflict. Toko saw it as a direct threat to his life, and drew his own kunai. They both launched forwards with only one intent in mind; to hurt each other. However, as the two boys were about to clash, a pair of strong hands intervened, seizing their wrists and squeezing them hard enough to make them release their weapons in a swift motion.

Your voice echoed through the clearing, filled with disbelief and anger. "What the hell is wrong with you two, huh? What were you thinkin?!" You shoved them away, making them stumble onto the dirt. Your eyes darted between them, their heads lowered in shame, attempting to avoid your piercing glare. "You guys never turn on each other, do you understand me?!" The anger in your tone was evident, a boiling cauldron of frustration and disappointment at what they were doing. Your hurt and disappointment were palpable as the memories of your past resurfaced. The uneasy sense of déjà vu weighed heavily on your heart. After receiving no response from them, you spoke again, your voice firm and demanding, "I asked you something, so you better answer me!"

"Yes ma’am," Kenji responded, his voice obedient yet filled with tension. He stood up, grabbing his arm as his head remained bowed. Toko's response came next, the venom in his eyes directed at Kenji. "Whatever," he responded bitterly, wiping the blood that dripped from his nose. His gaze never wavered, filled with a potent mix of hatred, anger, and spite. Your hands came up to rub your face, attempting to ease the headache that formed. "I taught you to never betray each other. I hope this is the first and last time you two ever pull out your weapons on each other,”

"Maybe he should learn to keep his hands to himself." Toko retaliated, but your head whipped around, your eyes locking onto his. "And maybe you should learn how to forgive," you retorted, the words cutting through the air like a sharp blade. "I heard your argument, I know what this is about. I heard everything as I was coming down. Her death was no one’s fault" Your eyes trailed down his face, watching as his expression twisted in pain. "It doesn't seem that way," he finally said, grabbing his bag and harsly pushing past Kenji, who was still staring at the ground.

Kenji's hands were clenched tight, his fingernails digging into his skin and his knuckles turning a pale white. You could sense the tension in his body, recognizing the need for a conversation on this matter. You knew deep down that the underlying issues had to be addressed once you returned home. All of you had been avoiding it ever since it happened, and you couldn’t help but blame yourself for it. However, there was still a mission waiting to be completed, and you would have to push aside the issue once more.

“We’ll speak about this when we get back, for now, just focus on the mission,” you say, grabbing the kunais that were on the ground, “I found out where we have to go,”

The trek towards the destination proceeded awkwardly, each step taken in complete silence. The atmosphere was thick with tension, making it feel nearly impossible to breathe. Hours ticked by without a word being uttered between any of you, none of you sure of what to say. It was then that you settled on waiting until you reached the village to address the situation. You felt it was best to hold off on any conversations until you were in the safety and comfort of your own home, knowing the pressure on them would only grow if you brought it up now. Your sole focus was on the mission at hand. As long as you kept your mind free from any distractions, everything would go smoothly. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself in hopes of managing your anxiety. You observed the boys walking alongside you, their eyes avoiding each other like magnets repelling the same pole. They seemed immersed in their own thoughts, perhaps consumed by anger and regret. The scene reminded you of Obito and Kakashi, and your heart ached slightly as the memory of your friends surfaced once again.You had made a silent promise to yourself that your students would never turn against each other like Obito did to Kakashi. Yet, the events that had just unfolded had planted seeds of doubt in your mind about what the future held in store for them. The thought of your students becoming ensnared in a cycle of hatred filled you with dread and fear.

Your body felt weighed down once again, but not due to the muddy terrain. This time, it was the weight of worry that was resting on your shoulders. It was as if you were being physically held back by the embodiment of anxiety. Yet, despite the weight, you also inexplicably felt a sense of lightness. The suppressed emotions you harbored were taking a toll on your physical self, causing you to silently curse at your own vulnerability. As their teacher and mentor, you were meant to inspire them to forge forward. You were supposed to set an example, yet here you were, feeling crushed beneath the weight of your own worries. Doubts clawed at you, making you question if you were truly fit to be their sensei. You were acutely aware of your previous failures, of your imperfections. Now, you found yourself failing them yet again, berating yourself for not taking action when you could have. You should have addressed the incident and spoken to them, but you held your tongue. The unresolved tensions and bottled-up emotions continued to fester between your students while you tried avoiding ever mentioning anything. Your eyes remained fixated on the path, and your legs moved mechanically, even though you were unaware of your surroundings. It was as if you were caught in a trance, your mind stuck in deep reflections while your body went through the motions. It wasn’t until the giant gates of the Hidden Mist Village emerged before your eyes that you finally snapped out of your contemplative daze. The guards stood vigilantly at the gates, their masked faces intently focused on you and your students. Their weapons were raised in anticipation, their gaze unwavering. It was only then, as their intense stares met your eyes, that your body snapped back into reality. The haze of your thoughts lifted, and your mind cleared, becoming acutely aware of the moment.

Your arms slowly raised, palms facing the guards to signal that you meant no harm. Your feet remained firmly planted on the ground as you addressed the guards with a firm tone. "We're from the Hidden Leaf Village," you explained, "We were called for an important mission. We've heard reports of rogue ninjas terrorizing your village. We're here to assist your people." Your voice was crisp and precise, making your purpose abundantly clear. "Please," you reiterated firmly, "If you need more information, let me approach so I can present the mission scroll." The guards exchanged glances again, before one of them finally stepped forward. It was the captain, you assumed, and his hand reached out, silently asking for the mission scroll.

Without wasting another moment, you reached into your pouch, quickly retrieving the scroll and placing it in the waiting hand of the captain. You waited patiently as he perused the scroll, making sure that you posed no threat to them. Your eyes darted back to Toko and Kenji, who stood behind you, their heads downcast and avoiding eye contact.

"You may come through. We have been waiting for your arrival." With a deep voice, the captain’s words reverberated through the air. He then gestured for you to follow, leading the way into the village. Initially, you didn't notice how empty the streets were, until you walked past a nearby hospital. The sight of numerous civilians lying pale and ill on the floor caught your attention in an instant, and the scene unfolding before you was nothing short of horrific. Nurses were overwhelmed, tending to the massive number of ill patients who had filled the entire hospital and were now flooding the streets. The people lying on the floor appeared deathly ill, their bodies wasting away as the nurses fought desperately to keep them alive. The sight was eerie and heart-wrenching, sending chills down your spine. However, you found yourself unable to tear your eyes away from the patients, which didn’t go unnoticed by the captain.

"They're all dying," the guard stated matter-of-factly, his gaze fixed forward as if refusing to acknowledge the suffering of the people around him. "All because of poison," he added with a callousness that sent a chill down your spine. Your eyes then fell upon an elderly man who was writhing in agony, his leg profusely bleeding and contorting in ways that defied the limits of the human body. He was wounded, a large gash the shape of a large blade tainted his weak leg. His wound appeared to be decaying, yet fresh blood continued to flow from it, a stark contrast to the slow decay. As your eyes locked with the elderly man's pleading gaze, he muttered a desperate "help us" before you averted your eyes and shut them tightly. Your body trembled at the sight, the suffering of the people weighing heavily on your heart. "And there's no cure for it," the captain’s words echoed in your mind, causing your eyes to open in disbelief. Slowly, you walked past the hospital, your senses still reeling from the stark reality you had just witnessed. A few people could be seen making their way towards the hospital, but beyond that, the village seemed eerily deserted once more.

“No cure? Then all those people….”

The captain's voice was raw and frustrated as he clenched his spear tightly, “All my people will die in vain,” he exclaimed, his anger noticeable. "We've always dealt with similar cases, but after being repeatedly attacked by those damn rogue ninjas, the number of incidents has tripled over the past few months. I can feel it in my bones – they're to blame for this, but I can't prove it, because we’ve never caught them" the captain continued, the helplessness in his tone was obvious.

With furrowed brows, you looked at the captain, "Do you have any information on them?". It was difficult for you to fathom how anyone could be so cruel as to slowly torment and kill an entire village of innocent people.

The captain exhaled a deep sigh, his expression heavy with disappointment, "I wish I had something of value to tell you, but the truth is, I don't," He paused, his voice carrying a sense of helplessness, "We've only spotted cloaked figures breaking in and harming innocent civilians, and anyone wounded in those attacks always end up the same – poisoned and rotting." Frustration tinged his voice as he continued, "We don't know where they come from or why they're doing this. We don't even know how they create that poison they use." You understood how he felt—you understood the helplessness of not being able to protect someone, in his case, everyone.

"I appreciate that information, sir. In situations like this, any information is helpful. Rest assured, we will do our utmost to protect your people. The safety of your village is our top priority." The captain didn't meet your gaze as you spoke, and you could sense his struggle to believe it. Given the countless lives lost, it was almost impossible for him to harbor hope that the nightmare would end. Toko and Kenji stood beside you, their faces betraying a mix of horror and sympathy for the village. Toko, in particular, fidgeted nervously, his uneasiness evident. The weight of the situation was becoming more real and pressing with every passing moment.

"It'll be alright, Toko," you offered a faint smile, trying to provide reassurance. Meanwhile, the captain continued his instructions. "Make sure you avoid getting hit by their weapons. From what the doctors have reported, every patient who’s ended up in the hospital has been stabbed or cut by those ninjas. It seems they carry poisoned knives of some kind. If they even scratch you, you'll find yourself dead," he warned gravely. You couldn't quite determine if the captain's intentions were to scare you or if he was genuinely worried for your safety, but regardless, you nodded in response. "We will be careful,"

The captain led you to the highest point in the village, situated atop a hill on the outskirts. This vantage point would serve as your watchtower for the remainder of the day, with an unobstructed view of the entire town below. You knew you had to remain vigilant, ready to take action at the first sign of trouble. With a resolve to put an end to the suffering of the villagers, you silently vowed to complete your mission as efficiently as possible.

"You will stay here. This vantage point offers a perfect view of the village. I wish you the best of luck, to all three of you. May you emerge victorious and save our people." The man then bowed his head in respect, but you caught a glimpse of his eyes beneath his mask. They were dark, as if the light of hope had been extinguished from within them. He had witnessed the grim reality of the situation time and time again, and his eyes seemed to convey the belief that at least some of you would not survive this ordeal. Countless Jonin from other villages had faced the same grim outcome. They had come, fought valiantly, yet ultimately succumbed to their fate. The captain's eyes reflected the weight of past failures, and yet, within him, there lingered a faint hope—a slender thread of fate that perhaps you and your students would defy the odds and succeed. He desperately yearned for it, hoping that you would put an end to the suffering that had ravaged his village.

You observed as the captain descended the hill, your face contorted in a frown. The pain and despair you had glimpsed in his eyes continued to haunt your thoughts, making it difficult to fully focus on anything else. It wasn't until the captain was completely out of sight that your mind finally caught up, and you turned your attention towards the boys, who had already taken a seat on the ground, their gazes wandering around the barren hill that offered nothing but patches of grass and a few scattered rocks. They were still silent, and you quickly noticed the somber expression on Toko's face and attempted to provide reassurance. "We'll help them," you stated firmly, placing all the bags together and double-checking your weapons to ensure you were ready for any situation. "And we'll be okay,"

"Even if we capture those ninjas, what will happen to all those people who are already poisoned?" Toko, who had not spoken a single word during your time here, finally spoke. His voice trembled, void of the earlier excitement that had filled his words before. Your gaze shifted towards the village, taking in the unsettling sight of deserted streets—a haunting portrayal of the misery and despair that had ensnared these people.

"They'll die. There's nothing we can do for them except avenge them. They will die in peace, knowing that no one else will get hurt." There was no room for debate or argument. Toko accepted your words without protest, a clear indication that the emotional toll of the events had left him exhausted. Kenji sat quietly nearby, leaned against a rock, listening intently to your exchange. In a rare display of positivity, Kenji spoke up, "Maybe our medical ninjas can find a cure for them," His words stood in stark contrast to his usual stoicism and pessimism, and you couldn't help but appreciate the glimmer of optimism. However, Toko's frown remained unchanged, and he paid no heed to Kenji's statement.

"Maybe so, Kenji," you replied with a faint smile, slowly standing up to keep watch. Silence blanketed the area once more as the sun slowly dipped below the horizon, transforming the city into a canvas illuminated by the street lamps. The translucent mist began to form, casting an eerily beautiful yet ominous veil over the surroundings. Minutes turned into hours as you, Toko, and Kenji took turns observing the village, looking for any signs of unusual activity in the silent and deserted town. The sky was obscured by thick gray clouds, concealing the moon's silvery glow and blocking any natural light from filtering through. The temperature had dropped significantly as well, and you had been shuddering all night long, your cheeks reddened from the biting cold. From the corner of your eye, you could see Toko and Kenji also shivering, the winter chill seeping into their bones and making them restless.

"You boys okay?" Your aching feet, throbbing from standing for so long and prompted you to speak up as your voice echoed through the silent night. The idea of standing for the entire night seemed both physically draining and unnecessary, considering the uncertainty of whether the rogue ninjas would even make an appearance tonight. Who knew if they would even show up? Doubt began creeping into your mind as you considered the slim chances of any action occurring in the next few hours.

“I’m fine,” Kenji answers, his head body leaned against an uncomfortable rock, “Just uncomfortable,”

 "You're not supposed to feel comfortable," Toko retorted, finally speaking to Kenji after hours of icy silence. "I'm just trying to lighten the mood, relax," Kenji responded with a frustrated huff, his body straightening up as he shot a glare at Toko, who sat a few feet away from him. “Funny, you never try to lighten the mood but now you’re suddenly caring if it’s tense or not,”

“Boys, stop it,” you warn before things got heated, “It’s not the time or place to argue,” 

“Oh please, when is it ever the time or place?” Your eyes widen at the sudden hostility towards you, making Kenji stand up to your defense. “Don’t talk to her like that, asshole,” he warns, his voice dripping with a venom you had never heard before as he made his way towards Toko in a threatening manner, “Or what? You’re going to hit me again?”

“Stop it you two!” you exclaimed, quickly standing up and forcefully pushing them apart, “You need to stop this bullshit, or else all three of us will go down. Is that what you want? You want to put us in danger?” your voice was stern and authoritative, trying to paint a clear message for the both of them. Your eyes flicker back and forth between them, searching for at least an ounce of shame on both their faces. However, Toko simply let out a loud scoff, backing away while his eyes sent a scorching glare at Kenji. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he turned on us,” he accused, his expression turning bitter once Kenji’s body tensed. “What the hell is your problem? I’m suddenly the bad guy here?”

“You always were,”

Their argument was about to continue despite all your attempts to alleviate the situation, but the sudden sharp and horrific scream of a woman that pierced through the cold and silent night caught you off guard. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up when the scream echoed through the night, and the boys were quick to gather at the edge of the hill beside you. Your eyes scanned the darkened town, searching for an explanation or a culprit, catching a glimpse of four cloaked figures jumping out of one of the townsfolk’s windows. Their backs were adorned with toll rods, a knife at the end of each one gleaming ominously in the shadows below. You assumed it was their weapons as one was tainted crimson red—Blood. “It’s them,” your voice hardened, and without any hesitation, you jumped down from the hill, your students quickly following behind you. Your presence had been figured by the ninjas as they immediately split up and darted in different directions. Instead of attacking you, they decided to avoid you, as if their attention was focused on something else. Something more important. “Alright,” you stop your tracks on top of one of the rooftops, memorizing the directions the ninja went, “We’ll go for the one up north first—,”

“I’ll go for the one on the right,” Toko exclaims in impulsive haste, giving you no time to react nor respond as he sprinted into the deep night. Anger bubbled up in your chest, making you curse, “Dammit! Toko! Come back here!” you called out, but he was already out of sight. “Shit, go after him Kenji, I’ll take care of the other two. Don’t get cut. Be careful,” the boy nods his head, muttering a soft “You too,” before vanishing into the shadows, leaving you all by yourself. You shook your worries away and began jumping over the rooftops towards the direction two of the ninjas had gone, and thankfully, they hadn’t gotten too far. They had soon made their way into your line of vision, and you swiftly followed behind them. They were under you, running through the paths of the village as you followed on the rooftops.

They were faster than you expected, and your breath came out as ragged gasps as you sprinted after them. There was no way you were going to catch them like this. They knew the village. They knew where to run to. They knew every corner and curve, as if they had done this thousands of times. “Shit,” you cursed under your breath, continuing to jump from roof to roof as you followed both cloaked figures. As you followed them, you reached for the pouch on your vest, pulling out a few paper bombs. ‘You’ve got this,’ you reassure yourself as you gain enough speed to jump down on top of one the figures. Your fingers swiftly stick the bombs onto its back, and you push yourself off and away from it. The cloaked figure reacted instantaneously, reaching for its weapon and swiftly swinging it at you, the knife-tipped rod a deadly threat. You felt the slightest brush of air as the weapon narrowly missed you, just barely avoiding a serious cut. Before the blade could do any harm, the paper bomb detonated, sparing you from injury. The ensuing blast sent you staggering backward, your feet struggling to maintain balance in the aftermath. As the smoke dispersed, you surveyed the scene, expecting to find the slumped body of the rogue ninja. However, to your surprise, nothing remained except an empty spot. Has it been a clone all this time?

‘Crack’

A wave of shock flashed across your face, your reflexes pushing you backwards just in time to avoid the figure that plummeted onto the spot you had recently occupied. Once again, the weapon-wielding figure narrowly missed you, your luck holding strong, "Who the hell are you, and why are you doing this?" Spinning the kunai skillfully around your finger, you clenched the handle tightly as you waited for an answer. 

The mysterious figure stood mute, shaking its head as it spoke in a low, distorted voice. "Stay out of my way, and you shall not get hurt," it warned. Confusion gripped you, as you found yourself unable to determine the figure's gender from their concealed features. As you scrutinized more closely, you glimpsed what appeared to be a mask under the expanse of their large straw hat, further obscuring their identity.

Your determined eyes locked onto the mysterious figure, "I'm not letting you guys terrorize this village any longer," you hissed. As your mind briefly wondered about the whereabouts of the second figure, you remained vigilant, refusing to let your guard drop. "You have no idea what this village has done," it pauses for a brief moment. "Please, just be on your way. You have nothing to do with this. I do not want to hurt you, but if you get in my way, you will end up just like them." It trained its weapon on you. “I am sparing you and the young men, leave, or seal your fate this very moment,”

“I don’t need your mercy,” you glare at him and take out your shuriken, “I’m not letting you kill these people,”

"Then you shall die like the rest of them," suddenly, the second figure reappeared, delivering a powerful kick to your abdomen, sending you sprawling against the wall. Your head hit the bricks and snapped back, leaving you unconscious for a few fleeting seconds. As you slowly regained yourself, your eyes snapped open just in time to avoid another attack. With a well-aimed kick, you connected solidly with the figure's head, causing it to stumble as it tried to extract its weapon from the ground. Without hesitating, you took its own weapon and jammed it into its stomach, making sure the blade pierced its muscle deeply. However, as you gripped the handle tightly and pushed it even further, the figure turned into some sort of liquid that melted away under your feet. “A clone?!”

As you glanced back, your confusion grew as the person you had been speaking to appeared a few feet away from you, now charging towards you with an additional rod in hand. The blade swung past you multiple times, trimming some stray strands of hair caught in its path. You swiftly dodged and ducked, sweeping your leg across the ground to knock its legs out from under it. It briefly stumbled but quickly caught itself, and before you could react, it attempted to swing its weapon at you once more.

With lightning reflexes, you grabbed the rod, yanking it toward you as you discarded your previous weapon. A firm kick to its stomach sent it stumbling backwards. As the rod slipped from its hands, you firmly held onto it, a hint of superiority in your voice. "You're nothing without your weapon, aren't you?" you taunted, hurling it to the side, out of reach for both of you along with the other.

"You have no idea what you are doing," it said, rising from the ground. It locked your wrist in a firm grip, and you fought for control. "You think you are doing good, but you are only defending horrible people," it continued, its strength surprising you as it began to push your arms downwards. "Everything you do now will be in vain," it taunted. "They will die, and so will you." With immense strength, you managed to break free, swinging your kunai at its neck. To your surprise, it lifted his hand, allowing the blade to pierce through its palm with no reaction.

"Your students will perish because of your decisions," it sneered. "You could have turned away from all of this, yet you chose to blindly follow your foolish orders," it continued. A powerful kick to your stomach sent you stumbling to your knees, a pained groan escaping your lips. Your arms instinctively wrapped around your aching stomach as you struggled to catch your breath.

The figure unflinchingly removed the kunai from its wounded palm, its expression remaining stoic despite the blood trickling out. Its words hung in the air, a mix of nonsense and malice, as you gazed up at it, your teeth clenched together. "But, I must admit," it continued, "you will die with honor. I admire that." With deliberate strides, it approached you, firmly grasping your weapon in its hands. "This is your end," Its ominous words trailed off as it prepared to deliver a final blow. You were about to dodge, but the sudden intervention of another figure caught you off guard. 

Toko lunged at the figure with lightning-fast precision, tackling it to the ground. Moments later, Kenji rushed into view, his voice filled with concern as he called out to you in worry, "Sensei!" He hurried to your side, helping you up and diligently checking your body for any injuries. "Are you okay?" he asked anxiously, his gaze scrutinizing every inch of your frame in search of any signs of harm. "I'm okay," you responded, wincing as a sharp pain radiated from your stomach. “We fought those two ninjas, but both of them were clones,” he says and looks at Toko who jumped back towards you after tackling the figure, “I’m assuming that guy is the real deal,”

“Yeah, they haven’t used up much chakra, and they only used clones,” you hiss, “But we can’t let them escape,”

"You think I'll let him escape? I've had enough of this damn mission to let that happen." Toko sneered as he was about to dash back at the figure when you intervened, stopping him. "Wait, we need to work together," you urged. "I fought with them, and I barely got any information of what they can do, so we have no idea what they’re capable of." Your arm halted his advance, but it didn't deter his anger. "So what?" he snapped, shoving your arm away. "He's on the floor. Let's get the job done." He sprints towards the figure, pulling out his blade to finish it off.

"Toko!" you yelled, your voice strained with the effort, your lungs burning in protest. Before Toko could get any closer, you noticed the figure slyly retrieve the kunai it had taken from you, hidden beneath its form to secretly attack Toko. "Toko, get out of the way!" you warned urgently. With a swift movement, you pushed Kenji safely away from you and dashed toward your other student, just in time to shove him out of the path of the incoming blade. Kenji's quick thinking resulted in the figure being entrapped in an earth style jutsu, the ground surrounding him turning solid and trapping him in place.

Toko’s eyes were wide, and for the first time during the whole night, he seemed to snap back into reality. “Shit, sensei—,”

"I’m fine," you reassured as you glanced between Kenji and the now immobilized figure. You took a step towards it, your voice firm as you declared, "You're done." With a swift motion, you pulled the straw hat and mask off its face, revealing the true identity beneath. To your surprise, the person behind the mask was a young man, no older than your students. A wave of realization washed over you, causing your stomach to drop. This person was so young...

The young man, having shed his disguise, locked his pale eyes with yours, his voice carrying a note of resignation. "You should have stayed back," he told you. "She will have it her way, no matter what it takes," he continued, his gaze drifting towards the approaching town guards. The captain, who had previously assisted you, appeared beside you, his voice filled with surprise as he spoke. "You did it," he exclaimed, "You actually caught him..."

A nagging sense of wrongness crept over you as you observed the situation. It all felt too easy. How could this young man, this seemingly helpless individual, have defeated other jonin from various villages? How could he be solely responsible for the terrorizing of the village? Your supposed victory felt strangely hollow, as if the pieces of the puzzle didn't quite fit together. If this was the person responsible for the commotion, why hadn't he been apprehended earlier?

Your gaze lingered on the young man, observing as he silently accepted his fate, the guards quickly restraining him now that he was freed from the muddy trap, "Your reign of terror ends here." The captain exclaims, his masked face leaning towards the young man.

However, his words continued to echo in your mind, a sinister melody. "She will have it her way, no matter what it takes." Who he was referring to was unclear, and the possibility of there being another person behind the terrorizing acts only added to the mystery. Questions raced through your mind, but your body had finally caught up to the events of the day. The adrenaline wore off, and the sharp pain on your side became overwhelming, forcing you to close your eyes in pain. You glanced down at your vest, noticing the growing red spot on it. The wound was located right where the man had attacked you when you had selflessly pushed Toko away. Kenji, alarmed by your condition, quickly rushed to your side, concern etched on his face. "Sensei, you're hurt," he exclaimed, his voice filled with worry.

The guard's attention immediately shifted towards you as he registered your injury. "You're... hurt," he uttered, his voice filled with dread. "I'm so sorry," he apologized, but you shrugged it off, a hint of humor in your words, "Don't worry, he didn't stab me with his blade. He hurt me with my own weapon." His shoulders visibly relaxed as he exhaled, relieved to hear your reassurance. "I see," he finally responded. "I was worried for a moment. I wouldn't want our hero to suffer such a terrible fate." You could hear the smile on his face, “Thanks to all of you, we will finally live peacefully once more,”

Your students, ever humble, responded to the guard's gratitude with a sense of duty. "There's no need to thank us," Kenji explained, firmly supporting you from one side, "We're just doing our jobs." As the group moved along, Toko, who had been deep in thought, snapped out of his contemplation and quickly rushed to your side, firmly grasping your arm to provide additional support.

“Please, come to the hospital. Let us take care of your wound,” the captain offered, and you hesitantly agreed.

With the stitches in place and your injuries tended to, you finally made your way out of the village with a completed mission, guided by a sense of accomplishment yet plagued by an underlying dissatisfaction. The villagers cheered as you passed, celebrating your victory, but the lingering question of whether more of the perpetrators were still at large nagged at you. Despite the celebration, you couldn't shake off the feeling that the threat wasn't entirely neutralized. Nonetheless, you walked out the gates with your students, Toko and Kenji, both of them remaining quiet and tense but safe and sound.

Each step back felt like an eternity, your wounded body protesting with every movement you made. The pain radiated from your injury, making the journey seem considerably longer than it actually was. In a moment of misplaced stubbornness, you had refused to accept the offer of a full healing from the medical ninja who attended to you. Instead, you had insisted on merely receiving stitches and bandages, reasoning that there were patients who required the medics' attention more urgently than you did. As a result, you now found yourself regretting that decision, every step an agony.

As you kept walking, a sense of relief washed over you as you passed by the familiar cabin where you had once stayed at. There, the old lady, sitting on her porch, noticed you and instantly broke into a wide grin, eagerly waving at you in greeting.

Kenji and Toko both urged you to take a break, sensing your stubbornness but knowing you needed the rest. "We should stop here, Sensei," Kenji insisted, with Toko nodding in agreement as well. However, you protested, "I just want to get home as soon as possible." They were right, though. Your body was exhausted, and pushing yourself could lead to you collapsing before reaching your destination. With each step towards the cabin, time seemed to slow down, particularly for you as your injured side protested with every movement. Seeing your struggle, the old lady's expression immediately filled with worry as you approached her. "Oh, my dear..." The old lady quickly stood up upon noticing your uncomfortable demeanor and reached out to grasp your arms, gently guiding you inside the cabin. "Look at you, come, come," she said, her voice filled with maternal concern. "I will take care of you." Toko and Kenji followed closely behind, their concern matching hers.

Once you were inside, you chuckled apologetically, leaning heavily against the wall while clutching your wounded side. "We're sorry to bother you again," you said, wincing slightly. "I hoped you might have something for my pain?" The old lady, ever resourceful, began rummaging through her cabinets, and you watched as she took a jar filled with various herbs. "Of course," she replied, turning towards you. "But tell me, how did you get hurt?"

Your eyes carefully scanned the contents of the jar that the old lady had taken, before darting up to meet her gaze. "It was some rogue ninja," you explained, grimacing slightly. "Fortunately, he hurt me with my own weapon. Otherwise, I would’ve been poisoned," you continued, wincing as the pain flared. "But it still hurts like a bitch," you grumbled, shifting uncomfortably against the wall.

“I see,” she hums, pulling you towards the fireplace, “I’ll patch you up my dear, I have some soup ready too. I’ll pour you some after I take care of you,”

Toko's concern was evident as he glanced at your wounded side, his worry growing. "It's not bad, right?" he asked nervously. You attempted to soothe his concerns with reassurance, though your voice trembled slightly with pain. "It's just a small gash, Toko," you managed. The kind lady had already laid out a silk mat for you to rest on, and you gingerly laid down, wincing slightly as you did. The old lady then spoke up, shooing Toko and Kenji away. "How about you two boys start pouring the soups while I work on your teacher? Go, go,”

The old lady gently shooed Toko and Kenji away towards the kitchen, gesturing for them to go. You sighed, watching them leave as the lady began to tend to your wound, carefully removing your vest and lifting your shirt to reveal the injury. "Been a long day, hm?" she mused, her voice filled with warmth. As she poured some liquid onto the wound, you involuntarily hissed, the pain sharp and intense. “Yeah,” you managed to squeeze out. After a few moments of silence—and pure agony—your curiosity got the best of you.

You observed as the old lady skillfully mixed and crushed various herbs together, her expertise evident in her movements. "You seem to know a lot about medicine," you noted, your gaze fixed on her hands, "Yes, I was a medical nin back in the day," she replied, her smile warm and reminiscing. As she gently rubbed the herbs around your wound, you continued to observe her, intrigued by her past, "They even called me the 'miracle doctor,' but that's all just old news," she added, a hint of nostalgia in her voice.

Your eyes stayed fixed on her hands, watching intently as she poured more liquid onto your injury. "However, I barely have any chakra left to fully heal anyone anymore," she explained, her voice laced with a hint of regret. "I can only resort to medicine now," she continued, gently wrapping the bandages around your wound. Her words were interrupted by your suggestion, "Maybe you can help the people in the village," you proposed, your voice filled with hope. "You might have something that could help them, some sort of cure—,"

“Those people don’t want me, dear,” she shakes her head, “Trust me, I have tried,”

Your expression turned puzzled, "But why?" you asked, watching as she skillfully bandaged your stomach. "I was banished from my village, and am no longer welcomed," she replied, her voice steady and accepting. Once she finished, she handed you a bowl filled with a thick substance. "Here, drink this," she instructed. "It will help you with the pain." You obliged, lifting the bowl to your lips and taking a sip. The bitter liquid burned your throat as you swallowed, its thickness and heaviness leaving an unpleasant aftertaste. After swallowing the bitter liquid, you were left with a sour taste in your mouth, the experience far from enjoyable. Nevertheless, you mustered a grateful expression and thanked the old lady, though your face still showed signs of discomfort. "I don't understand," you finally voiced your confusion, turning your gaze towards her as she began organizing her medical supplies.

“It’s not for you to understand, dear,” she smiles, “Besides, I’ve come to term with it. I had a family and lived my life happily here. What more could I have asked for?” The smile that was plastered on her face was one of genuine happiness, and so you decided not to question any further.

After enjoying a meal and giving your body the rest it needed, you finally bid farewell to the old lady, expressing your gratitude for her assistance. She simply brushed off your thanks, insisting it was her duty to help those in need. As you waved goodbye and set off back towards the village, the journey seemed eerily similar to the one you had undertaken earlier. Although your wound had lost its initial stinging pain due to the medicine the old lady had given you, the trek back felt even longer and more arduous than before.

With your head feeling light and your body heavy, each step felt like a struggle. The only thought keeping you going was the idea of finally reaching the comfort of your own home. To your relief, the familiar gates of Konoha came into view, and you took the first step inside. A wave of relief washed over you, your smile growing bigger as you savored the feeling of being back in the safety of your village.

“Finally, back home,” you mumble, the boys stepping at each side of you, “Yeah,” Kenji sighed in relief as he uncrossed his arms, “You’ll… be going to the hospital?”

“I think I’ll go home and rest first,” you chuckle, rubbing your face tiredly, “I barely used any chakra but I feel like I did,”

"Then rest well. I'll see you later, sensei," Toko chimed in, his voice fading into the distance as he walked away. You couldn't help but frown as tension coiled in your stomach, a sense of dread settling over you as all your worries and unresolved issues assaulted you like a relentless wave. You exhaled deeply, turning to face Kenji, "Go home. You need to rest as well,”

“I barely did anything, you did all the work. All we did was stand by and watch,” he rubs his neck, “I’m sorry… if I acted out or anything like that,” he apologizes with a low head, “It’s never gotten this bad, ever,”

“You shouldn’t be apologizing to me,” you place a gentle hand on his shoulder, “We’ll work this out. The three of us. But right now, I’m more worried about our physical condition. Go home and take a break,” you smile, earning a nod from him. “I understand… see you around, sensei,” a small, yet gentle smile decorates his features, his feet guiding him away from you and towards his home.

Your exhaustion was evident as you rubbed your temple, letting out an exasperated sigh. "Right..." you murmured, your voice tinged with stress. "I need to file a report," you reminded yourself, recalling the formalities and paperwork needed to officially mark the mission as complete. Frustration and exhaustion weighed heavily upon you as you reluctantly began making your way towards the Hokage building, reluctant to face yet another task that stood between you and the sleep you longed for.

Every fiber of your being ached to collapse on the ground, and a familiar feeling of dizziness and disorientation washed over you once more. You couldn't understand why you felt so utterly exhausted, your annoyance growing with each passing second. This was a new level of tiredness, one you had never experienced before, not even during the traumatic days of war. The fatigue weighed heavily on you, and you found yourself becoming increasingly irritable as you struggled to push forward.

As you made your way across the bridge, your thoughts were abruptly interrupted as a familiar figure with silver hair caught your eye. A sense of curiosity washed over you, as you wondered why the man was there at all. You approached him, and as you drew closer, you noticed that he was standing near the river, gazing out at the water with a book in one hand and the other resting on the rail.

“Having fun, mister Hokage?” Your voice echoed and reached his ears, making him turn towards you and give you a welcoming smile. Not that you saw, you just assumed he smiled at the way his eyes formed a crescent.

“Ah, (Y/N), you’re finally back,” he greets, closing his book as he takes in your features, “Though, you seem a little worn out,”

“Well, the mission wasn’t exactly easy,” you cross your arms over your chest, “Not only that, but the boys also got into a crazy argument, I’ve got a lot on my plate,” you close your eyes and furrow your brows, “It’s never ending,”

“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that,” he says sincerely, “Don’t be. Anyways, what’s the oh-so-busy Hokage doing walking around the village reading?” You raise your brow at him, tilting your head slightly before clearing your throat. Your hand flies up and grips the bridge’s rail, feeling a little weak in the knees. “Just admiring the day. It’s about time I took a little walk and got out of that office,” he chuckles, looking at your face for a reaction before he suddenly becomes concerned.

“(Y/N)?” Your name escaped the man's lips as he noticed you leaning against the rail, your body visibly struggling to stay upright. "Are you alright?" he asked, concern evident in his voice as he took a step closer to you. Your eyes met his, but they were dull and weary.

“I don’t… feel so good,” you mumble, your balance giving up on you before you stumble forward, thankfully having him catch you right before you hit the ground. Your vision was becoming a blur, and you couldn’t quite hear anything except for a faint ringing sound. Has the exhaustion caught up to you? No, this was way different. Your stomach tingles and your skin feels… out of place. You felt hyper aware of everything, yet nothing at all. All you could see was the blur of Kakashi’s figure holding onto you.

As Kakashi caught you, worry began to consume him as he watched you slowly fade in and out of consciousness, “Shit! (Y/N)!” His eyes scanned your face and body, to search for anything that might be causing this, and they fell onto the red patch on your vest that was stained. As he pulled away the arm that had been covering the wound, he found his sleeve covered with your warm blood. You were bleeding. You were hurt. Whatever had happened to you needed to be treated immediately. Even though you were patched up, you were in dire need of even more medical assistance.

“I’ve got you, (Y/N). You’ll be okay,” were the last words you heard before fading into the dark unconsciousness.

Part 3 coming soon...

A/N: what do you guys think of it? I was planning on continuing it, but it was getting way too long, so I decided to split it into parts! Do you guys prefer this series short like the first part, or longer like this one? Also, most importantly, I hope you guys enjoy it!!

Tag list: @saltybloodtears @capynul @yuujifii @sammyxorae @babychunks10 @yourlocaljobstealer @hbessey89 @mammons-master (sorry if you didn’t want to be tagged!!! Please let me know if it bothers you!!)

[anghraine]

It's interesting (if often frustrating) to see the renewed Orc Discourse after the last few episodes of ROP. I've seen arguments that orcs have to be personifications of evil rather than people as such or else the ethics of our heroes' approach to them becomes much more fraught. Tolkien's work, as written, seems an odd choice to me for not wrangling with difficult questions, and of course, more diehard fans are going to immediately bring up Shagrat and Gorbag.

If you haven't read LOTR recently, Shagrat and Gorbag are two orcs who briefly have a conversation about how they're being screwed over by Sauron but have no other real options, about their opinions of mistakes that have been made, that they think Sauron himself has made one, but it's not safe to discuss because Sauron has spies in their own ranks. They reminisce about better times when they had more freedom and fantasize about a future when they can go elsewhere and set up a small-scale banditry operation rather than being involved in this huge-scale war. Eventually, however, they end up turning on each other.

Basically any time that someone brings up the "humanity" of this conversation, someone else will point out that they're still bad people. They're not at all guilty about what they're part of. They just resent the dangers to themselves, the pressure from above, failures of competence, the surveillance they're under, and their lack of realistic alternative options. The dream of another life mentioned in the conversation is still one of preying on innocent people, just on a much smaller and more immediate scale, etc.

I think this misses the reason it keeps getting brought up, though. The point is not that Shagrat and Gorbag are good people. The point is that they are people.

There's something very normal and recognizable about their resentment of their superiors, their fears of reprisal and betrayal that ultimately are realized, their dislike of this kind of industrial war machine that erases their individual work and contributions, the tinge of wistfulness in their hope of escape into a different kind of life. Their dialect is deliberately "common"—and there's a lot more to say about that and the fact that it's another commoner, Sam, who outwits them—but one of the main effects is to make them sound familiar and ordinary. And it's interesting that one of the points they specifically raise is that they're not going to get better treatment from "the good guys" so they can't defect, either.

This is self-interested, yes, but it's not the self-interest of some mystical being or spirit or whatnot, but of people.

Tolkien's later remarks tend to back this up. He said that female orcs do exist, but are rarely seen in the story because the characters only interact with the all-male warrior class of orcs. Whatever female orcs "do," it isn't going to war. Maybe they do a lot of the agricultural work that is apparently happening in distant parts of Mordor, maybe they are chiefly responsible for young orcs, maybe both and/or something else, we don't know. But we know they're out there and we know that they reproduce sexually and we know that they're not part of the orcish warrior class.

Regardless of all the problems with this, the idea that orcs have a gender-restricted warrior class at all and we're just not seeing any of their other classes because of where the story is set doesn't sound like automatons of evil. It sounds like an actual culture of people that we only see along the fringes.

And this whole matter of "but if they're people, we have to think about ethics, so they can't be people" is a weird circular argument that cannot account for what's in LOTR or for much of what Tolkien said afterwards. Yes, he struggled with The Problem of Orcs and how to reconcile it with his world building and his ethical system, but "maybe they're not people" is ultimately not a workable solution as far as LOTR goes and can't even account for much of the later evolution of his ideas, including explicit statements in his letters.

And in the end, the real response that comes to mind to that circular argument is "maybe you should think about ethics more."

[talaok]

Love your writing!!!! I’m obsessed! Can you do one where a mutual friend sets Pedro and (y/n) on a blind date? Xoxo

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader

a/n: thank you love, and thank you for the really cute request💗💗

Why did I agree to this?

This is not like me. Not even close to how I am.

I don't go on blind dates, I don't even have Tinder for fucks sake, that's how much I don't like hanging out with strangers.

It had taken Julie a whole night and more drinks than you'd like (or could) remember to make you agree to this, and as soon as you woke up the next morning, regret had settled into your chest like a fucking life sentence, but as much as you would have loved to call your friend up and tell her how much of a mistake you had made, a part of you couldn't help but wonder how bad could it really be.

It had been a while since you'd been on a date, and from what Julie had said, this Pedro looked like a nice enough guy, so you had taken the downright mental decision to not tell her you'd changed your mind, decision that, as you walked into the restaurant, you were starting to really regret.

he waved at you as you entered, and as you walked closer and he stood up from the table, a part of that regret couldn't help but shimmer out of your mind.

He was... handsome.

The photos Julie had shown you didn't do him any justice.

"hi" you smiled nervously "I'm y/n" you said, shaking his hand

"I'm Pedro, it's nice to meet you"

He had a nice smile, very comforting and very much matching yours in terms of nervousness.

It had been a while for him too.

And the photos Julie had shown him definitely didn't do you justice either.

He had never been good at talking to such beautiful women.

"nice to meet you too," you said, sitting down opposite to him.

"so" he cleared his throat after a few moments of embarrassing silence "umh- How are you?"

A smile pulled at your lips "I'm good, thank you" you nodded "what about you?"

"oh I'm- I'm nervous" he let out a small chukle, making you laugh softly.

"yeah, me too" you said "It's been a while"

"yeah, for me too" he confessed "and you are... well you're very beautiful, so you're not making things easier for me"

A soft blush crept up your cheeks but you managed to chukle nonetheless.

"Well I'm sorry, I'll go into the bathroom and take off some of my makeup if that'll help"

He laughed at that "No, no I don't think that will be necessary, but thank you for offering"

"anytime" you joked

"So umh, Julie told me you're a writer"

"Yup, that's me" you smiled

"That's incredible"

"Oh c'mon you're an actor, now that's incredible" You raised an eyebrow

"Oh no no, I just repeat stuff that's been written for me in front of a camera, you create whole stories from your imagination" he debated "That's far more impressive"

You rolled your eyes playfully, as your smile got only wider.

"You're a real flatterer you know that Pedro?"

"Who, me?" he grinned, putting a hand on his chest at the accusation "I'm just speaking the facts" he spoke, making you huff a laugh "so what do you write about?"

"all sorts of things, I don't really have a genre" you explained "I've written sad stuff, romantic stuff, creepy stuff..." you shrugged "It mostly depends on my mood"

"that's nice" he nodded,

"and what about you, are you working on something right now?" you asked

"I've just been cast in a tv-show"

"really? What show, if I may ask"

"Oh it's umh- It's the Mandalorian, it's in the Star Wars universe"

"oh my god" your eyes widened in surprise "You're joking right?"

"nope" he smiled "yeah trust me, I was pretty freaked out myself"

"Oh my god" you breathed, "I think I need a moment to take this in"

"I take it you like Star Wars?"

"like?" you laughed "I've grown up watching Star Wars, My brother and I know every single line to The Return of the Jedi, I-" you stopped yourself "I think I just fell in love with you Pedro, I think we ought to get married as soon as possible"

"Well that was easy" he chuckled

"How are you not freaking out?" you asked, watching him as if he were an alien doing cartwheels

"I think you're doing enough of that for the both of us" he joked

"Yeah I really am, aren't I?" you smiled, coming back down to earth a little bit "it's just- that's crazy. I'm- I'm really happy for you"

"Thank you" he flashed you a smile, and that's when you noticed that it wasn't only his smile that was comforting, but his eyes too, they were so incredibly... expressive.

The rest of the dinner went by so smoothly you completely forgot you hadn't known this man your whole life, but in fact, just met him two hours ago.

"Well, I... I had a really great time y/n" he smiled, looking nervous again all of a sudden as you stopped in front of your car. 

"Me too" you grinned 

"So, since I have your number..." he cleared his throat "I was just wondering if you wouldn't mind me calling you sometime soon, to umh- to maybe do this again?"

Your heart started beating a little bit faster

"I'd love that Pedro"

"Oh thank God" he let out a sigh of relief

"You were nervous I'd say no?" you asked, doing a poor job of hiding your shock

"well... yeah"

"I proposed to you during the first five minutes of this date, of course I want to see you again" you laughed

"well I suppose that's true" he chuckled, letting his eyes take you in one last time "So umh, have a good night" he said " I can't wait to see you again"

"me either" you beamed "have a good night Pedro"

And as you watched him walk away, you couldn't help but smile up at the sky.

Thank god I didn't call Julie back

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart, Chapter 2 (Human!Alastor x reader)

Banner Alastors done by @blobin456drawz <3

Human Alastor x married reader Rated Adult for adult themes, triggering content and sexual content. I wouldn't say this is dead dove but it's dead dove adjacent. Chapter Trigger Warnings: Aftermath of domestic violence, talk of human trafficking, drinking.

A note from Kit: First, before anything I want to credit my friends @blobin456drawz, @nyx-umbrakinesis, @wendigonamecaller and the rest of you for the behind the scenes work you've done.

Onto more important matters- Please be mindful. This story is dark and triggering at times. I've written portions to elicit an emotional reaction. As you should always do with dark content, even if you're not at risk of being triggered, please step back and take a breather when needed.

Want to listen rather than read: Nyx productions brings you this Audio chapter. Part 1, part 2, part 3

Masterlist AO3 KoFi

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord. And my friend runs a Hazbin Fic Community

The music was rich in the air, energy from the band wrapping the space in the electric energy that poured from the instruments. Ice clanked in the glass as Alastor spun it in his hand, absently watching the room as he tapped his foot along with the music. Sharp eyes moved from one face to another, watching bodies move and mouths form words, lives wasted. 

There were a few faces that stuck out to him, a few faces he had been monitoring, watching. He wasn’t actively hunting, not at Mimzy’s speakeasy. That would be far too dangerous. However, if his targets were themselves here, it would be sloppy not to take notice of them. 

“Hey, Al,” Mimzy slipped into the tall stool across from him, obscuring his view and demanding all his attention regardless of if he was ready to grant her it. That was how she was, always demanding someone’s full attention regardless of if they wanted to give her it at the moment. 

“New supplier working out well?” Alastor asked, clinking the ice around his glass after taking a small drink. Tonight wasn’t a night for overindulgence. 

“Well enough,” Mimzy made a show of humming, causing Alastor to raise an eyebrow. She had something she wanted to discuss and from her show, he would not like it. 

“What’s the issue?” 

“I’m so glad you asked!” Mimzy shifted, falling into what Alastor considered her damsel in distress position. She had always been easy to read, at least on the surface level. Alastor knew well that more went on below the surface than Mimzy let on, however. It was that hidden depth that made her tolerable in his eyes. 

“You see, Laurence was running next week’s supply last night. It was going great but you know how it goes- he got stopped, got off with a slap on the wrist thanks to his pretty face, but they took his goods and left him with a hefty fine.” 

“That so?” Alastor hummed as he sipped his drink, leaning back in his chair and crossing his leg over his knee. “Do you need help with supply again?” 

“No, no- Nothing like that,” Mimzy watched as Alastor’s shoulders relaxed, counting on that for what she had actually intended to ask. “The thing is, he can’t float the fine and his debts.” 

“How terrible for him.” Alastor knew what she was getting at but wanted her to say it, anyway. 

“He needs a loan from someone who isn’t a shark. Someone who’s a real stand-up guy who won’t run him around.” Mimzy leaned forward, closing some of the distance between them. “I know you got some green stashed away, and he’s as much of a stand up fella as you are. If he goes bust, I’m out a supplier again too.” 

“How much?” Alastor sighed as Mimzy took his glass out of his hand, motioning for a refill for him. 

“Well, you see- it’s not a lot a lot.” She said a lot of words while she stalled, waiting for his topped off drink. It was her opinion that you only asked for a favor from a man when he had a drink in his hand, no matter how well you knew the man. When Alastor again had his glass safely in hand, she got to the point, “A few hundred. Float him the loan, he’ll pay it back with interest. I promise he’s good for it.” 

“Oh, well- if you promise he’s good for it than I have no choice,” Alastor’s smile twitched, “but to say no.”

“Oh, come on, Al!” Mimzy pleaded, leaning on her palms as she leaned up out of the stool and onto the table, “If he can’t settle this debt, he ain’t going to be able to keep supplying me. Either you float him the loan or you’re stuck helping keep me supplied. That’s all there really is to it. You don’t want that and I don’t want to hear you flapping your yap about how much you don’t want to do it either.” 

“Mimzy,” 

“He’ll be good for the money. Just-” Mimzy waved across the room as Alastor’s eyes followed her attention to a tall man with blonde hair and a decidedly square face, calling him over. “Just talk to him? See what he can offer for collateral? Work out a deal?”

“And if I don’t want to?” 

Mimzy just looked over her shoulder at him and smiled before directing her whole energy to the man approaching, “Laurence!” 

“Mimzy! How are you, Beautiful?” The man’s voice was deep and rich, the type of voice women flocked to though Alastor found his imitation of the mid-atlantic accent to be rather sloppy. 

“Oh you,” Mimzy smacked his chest as his arm snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against him. “Such a flirt. Everyone’s such a flirt. You fellas see little ol me and can’t help yourselves.” 

“That’s exactly it,” the man said, basking in the attention the short woman was lavishing on him. 

“Laurence, dear-” Mimzy patted the man’s chest again before directing her attention to Alastor, “This is Alastor, one of my dearest friends. Al, this is the one and only Laurence.” 

Laurence held his hand out for Alastor to shake. Alastor took it after unfolding off the barstool, standing to his full height and looking down on the blonde man. There wasn’t a huge height difference, but it was noticeable enough that Alastor wanted to ensure the other man felt smaller. 

“A pleasure to meet you. Quite a pleasure,” Alastor said, firmly shaking Laurence’s hand, long fingers easily wrapping around the other man’s smaller hand. His smile twitched a little wider. Alastor watched the blonde man grimace as he felt the metacarpal bones in the captured hand shift under the pressure of Alastor’s grip. 

“Likewise,” Laurence rubbed his newly freed hand before thinking twice and hiding his discomfort, not before Alastor noticed. 

“Al here,” Mimzy’s hand rested on Alastor’s shoulder before wrapping her arms around his arm, pulling it against her plump chest. “And I was just talking about your situation and he is willing to float you.” 

“A loan.” Alastor added, “The details will need working out of course.” 

“Of course,” Laurence’s smile spread, threatening to challenge Alastor’s before fading. “Of course.”

“I’ll leave you two to it,” Mimzy patted Laurence’s shoulder as she walked by, looking over her shoulder and throwing Alastor a wink on her way. 

“Mimzy said you needed the loan because you got busted?” Alastor offered, opening the conversation. “Why should I loan you funds if you’re sloppy enough to get caught?”

“That’s an oversimplification,” Laurence tried to laugh off the critique. 

“Typically, in this line of business, one would hold enough funds in reserve to cover losses such as this.” Alastor leaned back in his chair, taking a long drink from his glass as he watched Laurence, taking in the uncomfortable shift of his position and the twitch of his jaw. “How can I be assured you’ll repay this debt? Mimzy seems to believe it will not be an insignificant sum you’re here to grovel for.” 

“I’m not groveling!” Laurence slammed his fist down, rattling the table as Alastor made a show of standing up. “Wait.”

Alastor’s smile twitched higher as he lingered half out of his seat, looking back at the red-faced man as he raised an eyebrow and cocked his head. Mimzy wasn’t the only one who could put on a show. 

“I’m not here to grovel.” Laurence said again, calmer this time. “I need the funds. I’m in a bit of a spot, but I’m good for it.”

“And what can you offer for collateral?” 

“I can offer a man’s most prized possession.” Laurence’s smile turned slimy. 

“And what would that be?” Alastor settled fully in his seat once again, picking up his glass as he refused to let his smile fall wholly from his lips. When Laurence answered, Alastor nearly choked on the drink in his mouth. 

“My wife.” 

“That hardly will compensate me for any lost funds. I’m not sure what sort of man you are under the impression that I am, but I do not deal with the buying and selling of women.” Alastor’s voice was hard, cutting with his displeasure. 

“That’s not-” 

“It’ll take a few hours for me to get the funds together. If you’ll have me over for dinner tomorrow, we can finalize the details. You have until then to think of something more appropriate for collateral.” 

You sat at your vanity, looking into the face of a woman that looked like you but didn’t feel like you in the slightest. Your nightgown hung from your too thin frame. Stress and pressure to be perfect both from Laurence and from society pressed in around you as tears ran down your cheeks and dripped off your chin. 

“Laurence is a good man,” you whispered to yourself, shattering the silence in the room with the bold-faced lie told in the face of the irrefutable evidence that he was indeed not a good man. “Laurence is a good man.” 

Your arms were stiff, sore as you forced the muscles to function. Dark bruises wrapped around your biceps, evidence of his harsh hands grabbing you, shaking you. Green and yellow covered your ribs, no longer actively paining you but a visual reminder of what happened when he thought you talked back. Your shoulder ached, but that was so often the case that it felt like a constant pain.

Those marks would all be covered by your dress, at least. There were small blessings. The bruise around your wrist would be harder to cover, but first you had to cover the redness in your face. 

Your eyes were puffy, skin irritated and uneven, both from a night spent crying and from the back of his hand striking you. The blows hadn’t been too bad, sending you to the floor the night before, but it could have been worse. What was your infraction last night, anyway? You couldn’t remember. 

Your face didn’t hurt much, not as much as the rest of you. More often than not, he kept his hands off your face. Facial bruising drew too much attention. Too many marks where others could see it would shatter the impression of perfection he worked so hard to maintain. 

Cooling cream felt good against your skin as you willed the tears to stop. Now wasn’t the time for tears. What good did tears do you, anyway? Tears didn’t change your life and what was there to cry about? 

It was a good life, when you didn’t upset him at least.

He was your husband. He supported you, cared for you, and provided for you. All you had to do was shut up and do what he said. Trust him and stop asking questions. Just stop thinking. 

But that wasn’t who you were. You were a woman who liked to think, to learn and to use your mind. 

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter in the slightest who you were or what sort of woman you were. It didn’t matter what sort of woman you wanted to be.

He was your husband. He would be your husband forever. Even if he wasn’t, you couldn’t marry better than him. He had come from a good family, bringing you financial security above what you could have hoped for. Your parents were proud of the match they had arranged, beaming that your beauty and countenance secured you such a step up in the world for yourself and, in time, your children.

With one last look in the mirror, you decided your work was good enough. Your blush was too bright, not keeping in with the trends and your eyeshadow not smoky enough. Laurence wouldn’t give you the money to update to the latest trends, saying that you didn’t need it. Instead, you did the best you could with what you had.

Your dress, laid out on the bed and waiting for you, was likewise just a touch out of fashion. It was longer than that of your peers, but that was alright. Laurence said it flattered your figure better than the newer styles. You wouldn’t be able to pull off those newer styles, your frame was simply not thin enough. 

You were not enough or too much in some way or another according to him, for the latest looks. 

This was better for you. 

Laurence knew best. 

As you stood, the world spun around you. The floor felt like it was tilting under your feet. Fingers dug into the solid surface of the vanity as you counted down from five, eyes clenched shut with a deep breath between each number.

Once the world felt steady, you made yourself drink some water. Hydration wouldn’t fix everything, but it was a solid place to start. Some water, some crackers and smoked meat that you kept in your bedside table, and you’d be right as rain again.

You just needed to get dressed first. 

Joints ached as you took slow, careful steps toward the bed and slipped the dress over head. Carefully, you used your good arm to pull your sore arm through the sleeve, trying to avoid moving the screaming shoulder joint any more than needed. Once you had accomplished that feat, you switched your focus on dressing the rest of yourself, pulling the zipper up while holding your sore arm close to your body. 

You’d take something for the pain too, you decided as you rolled the stockings up your legs, one at a time. That would make you right as rain. 

The more you moved, the easier it was to move. You told yourself you were just stiff, that was all, as you slipped bangle bracelets over your wrist. If you put enough on, maybe they would obscure the dark marks on your skin. More and more you added until it was enough. 

Looking at yourself one last time, you pulled your painted lips into a smile. You were happy; you told yourself. Your marriage was wonderful. Laurence was a wonderful husband. You were lucky. 

You were lucky.

Laurence swept through the front door like a gust of wind, a wide smile on his face. Flinching when he kicks the door closed behind him, you step away from the wall you had been using as support and stood up as straight as you could. 

Laurence quickly crossed the living room and swept you up in his arms. You cringed back in pain as he spun you around without a care in the world. 

“I’m sorry. Did I hurt you, sweetheart?” Laurence stepped back, hands soft on your shoulders as he looked at you with a surprising amount of concern. 

“My shoulder- it’s just a bit tender is all,” you answered carefully, forcing yourself to relax in his hands. 

He was in a good mood. He was happy. This was good. You were safe, at least for now. It’ll be a good night. Well, as good of a night as you could hope for.

“I’m sorry, you know. I am.” Laurence’s hands ran down your arms, thumbs caressing the soft fabric of your dress. “I- it wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t talked back to me. A man wants a meek wife, you know that. You can be that for me, right?”

He rested his palm against the same cheek he had backhanded the night before, and you told yourself that he was right as you forced yourself to lean into his touch. Laurence was a good man, and you were lucky to have him. Why didn’t it feel like that was true? Why did it feel like you could have had better?

“Let's go out for dinner, yeah?” Laurence offered, “You won’t have to worry about making dinner or cleaning up the kitchen. How’s that sound?” 

For all the good that came with Laurence’s good mood, there was a negative side of it, too. His hand was heavy on your thigh, thumb caressing you in the theater’s shroud of darkness. 

This was another song and dance you knew well and would rather not take part in. You were not sure what was worse, if you were being honest with yourself, romance with Laurence or violence with him. 

Still, you fought back the grimace as he pulled you in for a kiss in front of the cinema after the show had ended. This was as much your duty as it was to do the washing. 

“Let’s get home, Sweetthing.” Laurence wrapped his arm around your waist, not caring about how that jammed your painful shoulder right into his side as he held you to him. 

“You’re in such a good mood,” you cringed as he jostled you into his side more, swallowing the pain.

“Well, yeah- I’ve got a business deal falling into place and we’re celebrating.” 

That was news to you, though Laurence rarely spoke of business with you. You knew sometimes when things went well and you knew sometimes when things went bad, but never the details. Women were not to know the details of business in his eyes. Their hormone filled brains simply couldn’t handle the complexities of the professional world.

Things had gone badly a few days ago, terrible, but he hadn’t told you that. You didn’t need a conversation around business to tell you that when the information was written in his mood and his fists. It was better now; it seemed and business would birth a different sort of pain for you tonight. 

“Tomorrow we’re going to be having a dinner guest,” Laurence’s grip on you kept the pressure on your shoulder and there was no part of you that thought for a moment that he wasn’t aware of the pain he was causing. He just didn’t care. Appearances were more important to him than something as trivial as your comfort. 

“That’s such short notice,” you protested, thinking better of it only when the words were already out of your mouth. 

“Don’t ruin this night for me, Doll.” His voice was deep with warning, “You’re going to make a lovely dinner and my associate is going to come over. I’ll seal the deal and you’ll show him how perfect of a wife you are, however I decide is needed.” 

You didn’t know what he was getting at, but it sounded like a threat. It wasn’t something you wanted to discover, however. 

“Hey, Al-” Mimzy tugged on the sleeve of his coat, drawing his attention from the stream of people exiting the theater. He would lose sight of his mark, but that was just as well. He wouldn’t strike tonight. Tonight was simply for observation. “That’s the pretty face of the tailor, ain’t it?” 

“It seems so,” Alastor feigned surprise as his eyes followed her gloved finger. 

He had noticed them the moment they filed into the theater. Timid little thing, meek with her shoulders slumped and his arm around her. What a magnificent turn of events to find the timid little thing appeared to be Laurence’s wife. 

Did she know her husband was willing to offer her up like cattle as collateral on a loan if he needed it bad enough? Or did she think her marriage was sacred under the cover of her husband’s rough hands?

“Is that Laurence she’s with?” Mimzy broke through his thoughts.

“Told you she had a man,” Alastor looked away, directing his attention to his companion, ignoring the way the woman’s shoulders slumped more under her husband’s touch or the way she flinched every time he grabbed her. 

“Should we go say hi?”

“Let them have their night out on the town. There will be plenty of other chances to talk business.” Alastor looked back at his friend, her eyes lingering on the couple a few moments longer. “Shall we?”

Tag List: @xalygatorx, @charlottemorningstarsdarling, @honestlyshamelesskid, @lilith-jae, @catticora, @alastor-simp, @alastorthirsty, @rainydaysmut, @nyx91, @goyablogsstuff, @kaylopolis, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @diffidentphantom, @yui-onnero, @lunarmango, @uhhhimbored, @loveameripanshipperlove

Next? Masterlist

[gofancyninjaworld]

Meta for the Ninja Arc (so far)

I thought about reviewing the chapters 195-202 (fan numbering), but summarising the action was annoying me, so let's just skip to the good stuff! This arc has been a grower: what it lacks in up-front showiness it makes up for in depth once you take the time to reread and think about it. I'm just going to pick up on a few things.

Recontextualisation

I have been thinking a lot about how much what we make of the information we receive depends on what we already understand [1]. I've written a bit about ONE's use of salience within the story. This arc though, I'm going to talk about recontextualisation and how important it is to be able to look back and understand events and even people anew in the light of new information.

This has been a huge thing for Flashy Flash. Many years ago, he and Sonic sneaked into a forbidden section of their village and saw many strange things that made no sense to them at the time. It's only very recently, after hearing about the enemy that is 'God' and Blast's efforts to counter him (chapter 173) that things started to make sense to him.

It's only after seeing Gale Wind and Hellfire Flame, not as monsters, but as the former security guards who had trounced them for trespassing that 'where' he'd seen the cube before came back to Flashy Flash, as did the significance of the sights they'd seen. And then it all started to fall into place, reinforced by his going back to the Village to find it destroyed in what he had now come to recognise as Blast's signature attack pattern.

Of course, Flashy Flash has terminal Main Character Syndrome, so he's tried to organise things so that he's the one who takes down Empty Void and reaps the accolades. It's kinda backfired but we'll come back to that in a bit.

There's another bit of recontextualisation that is not so explicit but I think is just as important. It's clear that the Tenninto were no match for Flash and that he could have killed them any time. It's also been established that Flash has never hesitated to kill anyone who came after him. It's been his policy after all. So what gives in his sudden rush to mercy?

As the chapters have gone on, it's become clear that Flashy Flash has come to see the Tenninto as fellow victims of Evil Void's dehumanising process intended to turn them into potential vessels for 'God'. Something else that Flashy Flash is probably responding to is that rehabilitating Village members was once Sonic's dream, and there's a part of him that would love nothing more than to help make it happen. Of course, if you point that out to him he'll tell you to stop being stupid.

It's amazing but Flash is outraged at the way he and his fellow victims are seen as things to be used, abused, and discarded as Void pleases, and he's looking to get justice for all of them.

Ah yes, Sonic. It's been clear that Sonic has been a much better friend to Flash than he has to Sonic, and yet, yet it would seem that Sonic is the one person he cares most deeply about: anything bad happening to Sonic would devastate him. He just has a funny way of showing it.

An irresistible vision. To think that in his heart, this is what Flashy Flash most wants.

We hope he comes to do better.

Insight

Let's talk about Sonic now. For many years now I have been hoping that something would happen to shock Sonic out of his futile rounds of attacking Saitama, being beaten by Saitama, training maniacally, attacking Saitama... his world has become very small and circular, like a round circle.

I had fantasised about maybe Genos grabbing him mid-attack and stuffing him into a narratively-convenient bin without so much as breaking stride. Something so outrageous that he could no longer ignore the need for him to change. The webcomic has sidestepped solving this problem by gifting Sonic some magic scrolls and a sword and just not having him cross paths with Saitama again. The manga is tackling the problem head-on.

Something I have loved, loved, loved about ONE is that he hasn't hesitated to give characters what they've earned. There's been enough morons bellyaching about the two not being neck-and-neck in skill like they were in the webcomic. Sonic's not weak in the manga -- Flashy Flash has experienced more battles and has had to struggle and learn more and so he's been able to progress to the point that he's left his friend in the dust.

Translation: The Back Of A Friend I Once Stood Shoulder-to-Shoulder With. There'd have been a lot less bellyaching if the translators had translated this bit.

That's the shock Sonic needed to open his eyes to the stupidity of his actions. More than that shock, seeing what Flashy Flash has been able to achieve has given Sonic the inspiration to strive for, achieve, and surpass what Flash has accomplished. His fire is back in a good way.

More than that though, the disrespectful way in which Sonic was offered more monster cells rather than a more interesting vision peaks to two things, external and internal.

Externally, it speaks to the way that we tend to think that people are only what they first show us while we understand ourselves to be complex creatures with many competing moods and wishes. Empty Void had heard that Sonic had once reached for a monster cell and assumed that he knew the sort of guy Sonic was: someone whose inferiority complex was such that he'd reach for any offer of power. But of course, that's not Sonic. Sonic has been the stubbornest person ever, who has been able to keep his sense of self despite the Village's best efforts. He reached for a monster cell because even the strongest person can despair, at least for a while.

Internally, man, the bleakness of Sonic's life is such that he doesn't have anyone to offer him a nice fresh monster cell and the monster cells must perforce cook themselves to offer themselves to him... he looks to no one and believes in none. That's painful to see.

When we think of how close he and Flash used to be, the bitterness of his mocking the prisoners for depending on each other grows sharper every time we learn a bit more about him. I don't know if he'll ever forgive Flash for betraying him.

Yes, there's a betrayal right on screen now: that of Blast by Empty Void. Blast thought they were in the business of putting God out of business but Void was using him to obtain cubes so as to raise an apostle of God.

Longer Blast: I'm not mad. I'm just very, very, very disappointed.

That said, I'm not going to let Blast off the hook entirely. He has some explaining to do!

Complicity

Blast has a lot of explaining to do. Sure, he's been refreshingly honest about what he's been doing with monster experiments, and his link to 'That Man'.

I have a feeling that Flash has been too quick to absolve Blast of blame.

We know that Blast and Empty Void went back at least 20 years. And yeah, we can just about buy that he didn't know his partner was fixing to betray him. However, given that we know that the Village takes young boys and that there were at least 43 graduating classes before Flashy Flash escaped years ago, that means that the Village had been a thing for at least 50 years. How long has Blast known about Empty Void's activities? Did he turn a blind eye to it? Or was it not a problem until it bit him in the ass? [2] What else is Blast permitting that shouldn't be?

We need answers.

I am very invested in seeing how this arc ends and what else it'll lead to.

Asides

[1] A very neat non-fictional example: this man escaping from his pursuers by lying down and thus changing their understanding of him to 'homeless guy'.

[2] A part of me notes that Blast falling out with Empty Void and beating the shit out of him coincides neatly with the time Blast's son was born. Maybe shit became a bit too real for him to ignore.

[theredhoodedcryptid]

Alrighty, here's more notes from my Jason Gotham Knights playthrough. I'm not finished yet, but what I've found so far is interesting. Also here's the link to my other post about the Labyrinth which I'll be referencing.

Starting off with basic observations:

When Jason first encounters an Owl's nest he states "Hello? I'm selling owl scout cookies."

Jason can somewhat play the piano. We only encounter playable pianos in Gotham Knights whenever you're infiltrating either an Owl base or the Monarch Theater, regardless both are one time story plots, making the the ability to play them very limited. While I haven't tried this with Babs and Dick yet, Tim can't (or won't) play. He just takes his hand and swipes it down the keys, whereas Jason plays a small part of a song. I don't know which one though.

The cutscene where Jason and Tim are bonding and working on Jason's weapons. This one is pretty familiar, Jason's weapons are leaning a little to far on the dangerous side of non-lethal. When Tim brings this up Jason dismiss it, stating most of their enemies wear heavy armor so it's fine. To make his point, Tim gets in front of Jason when he goes to shoot at a practice dummy, stating that if he really believes they're safe then to shoot him. Now the major thing people will notice with this scene is that Jason hesitates for a moment (I think he's remembering something, perhaps Titan's Tower if that happened in this universe?) before pointing his weapon away. Another interesting thing I noticed in this scene is that after he points his weapon away, Jason goes as far as removing the clip and also removing the rubber bullets. It's possible he's just doing this so they can work on it, but I think Jason is going to these lengths to show to Tim he won't hurt him (again). It's clear from an earlier cutscene where Jason had a knife and he absentminded pointed it at Tim to make a point about the conversation , but Tim flinched back and Dick subtly intervened. Something along Titan's Tower happened here, but to what extent I have no clue.

So far during my League of Assassins stuff they've not ambushed Jason. If you've played or watched the game then you might remember The Court and the League sometimes set up little traps to attack you while you're patrolling. Sometimes it's a hostage, but mainly it's a few dead bodies of the local gangs and a trapped chest with a bomb. In my other play throughs I've encountered a lot of this from both sides, but Jason's a little different. The traps are still there from the League, but nothing happens. I open a chest and it doesn't go off, it's a normal chest. And it's clearly the LOA because you can see black smoke hanging around the scene, which indicates their presence. With Jason they just back off and only interact during the main storyline. Is this perhaps because he was in the League of Assassins after his little bath in the green jello? Or maybe I'm not far enough in the plot for the League to really start attacking me, or maybe I'm experiencing glitches. Whose to say, but I found it very interesting.

I was kinda disappointed with Harley's and Jason's interactions. I mean, Jason was pretty chill and civil around her which is totally fine, but I was hoping for a bit more backstory nods. We have a lot to assume about the Gotham Knights universe, so any little bit helps. But nothing really was mentioned between those two. Even stuff with Talia hasn't been very fruitful so far. If cutscenes don't show me anything I'll have to do a deep dive in the audio files, codex, wiki, and any written materiel about GK. I need to know these people's back stories!

(A small side note of how I had this whole theory written out on how Tim might have been apart of the family before Jason died based on a cutscene, but then I remembered that Bruce's audio files explicitly state otherwise. Also that'd make my Titan's Tower theory have to many holes.)

Now for my favorite part, The Labyrinth!

(This is where my previous post mentioned before comes into play)

Now, during my last few playthorughs I've been trying to map out the reason behind how certain hallucinations happen, whether it's truly random or if it depends on which direction you take in the labyrinth. I haven't cracked it yet, but I hope that after playing as Dick and Babs I'll figure it out. Right now this is just my observations.

Everything in general has stayed the same, except for the order of what happens. Here's how this time went: Turned right at the Spike room, turned left at the phonograph room, weird floating vision, (accidentally walked into some spikes and got sent to the beginning but it lead to the next room without backtracking), turned right at Bruce's Grave, turned left at the Table Room, Vision of Jason in an Owl mask, Turned right at the Pit Room, vision of Bruce and the ending sequence. I got a couple of things different then my last analysis for Jason, but I'm leaning more on the different paths direction then the randomized. We'll see though.

As for the things Fake!Bruce says, it's pretty much the same thing as he said to Tim, only in a slightly different order. The only thing that was different was in the Pit Room, where he says "You were the worst Robin, no better then a killer. Now you're just nothing."

Anywho, I'm not done with Jaybirds playthrough yet, so I'll add to this post if I find anything else.

[once-upon-an-imagine]

It's been a very long week and it being that time of the month definitely did not help 😂 I've had more mood swings than I felt in a while and I am so exhausted! so I am going to bed but I want to write and update Smile this weekend but I only have a few sentences and ideas written down so far (anyone who wants to come into my inbox with suggestions or ideas is more than welcome!)

I also have some stories that I already started and are either half-way there or literally only one part missing 😂 so I wanna try writing one of those next!

thank you for always voting and for all your patience and love, dearies! summaries   and descriptions of each request are below!

Argyle - Cielito Lindo

[Byers!Reader] Argyle is staying with your family when his parents are out of town. You know he’s been feeling down because he has to celebrate his birthday without them. So, you try to do something to cheer him up. (Sequel to Build Me Up, Buttercup) [Not requested]

Billy Hargrove - A Little Death

Anonymous - Where the reader is known to break hearts. Not because its fun for her but she does it to protect herself and the person. She is convinced that whoever gets close to her heart either ends up hurting her or she ends up hurting them so she always ends it by leaving them - ultimately hurting them before they can hurt her. When Billy starts getting interested in her and she suddenly leaves just when he thought things were going good, he doesn’t back down to find out why and once he does he makes it his mission to show her that he is there to stay and protect, despite being known for leaving and destroying. 2. Anonymous - since you are taking requests, could i request a Billy fic with the following prompts from the prompt list you talked about in your latest post ? “Wake up. You have to wake up. Please. For me.” “Just, please don’t leave me.” “I don’t want you to die for me. I want you to live for me.” + “As you begin to fall asleep, you feel a gentle kiss pressed to your temple and a blanket draped over you.”

Billy Hargrove - RIP, Love

1. Anonymous - Where the reader breaks up with Billy because he has been toxic and Billy goes and tries to find love in other women. But he gets frustrated because they don’t touch him (physically and mentally) the way the reader always did. He gets angry trying to teach them but none come close to the actual thing until he gets so frustrated that he crawls back to her and tries everything to fix it. 2. Anonymous - “I feel like I’m falling apart.” with Billy Hargrove?

Billy Hargrove - Highway To Hell

[Munson!Reader] When you are tired of your brother and your boyfriend arguing all the time, you come up with a plan that finally makes them work together and at least not murder each other.

Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson - Pink Shirt

This was not requested is just a small thought I had based on the fourth pic of this post

Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson - Any Way You Want It

Against your boyfriends’ wishes, you decide it’s what’s best for everyone if you are the bait for Vecna. You stay back in the attic with Max and Lucas. Steve and Eddie try to make it back as quickly as they can but it might be too late. (Warning: reader is cursed by Vecna and gets hurt) [I have renamed this story like 50 times 😂 ]

Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson - Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now

Everyone in your group could feel the sexual tension between you, Steve, and Eddie. Which is probably why they all ganged up and planned to have the three of you share a bed to see if you would finally admit your feelings. 

Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson - A Sunday Kind Of Love

For six months, you had been fine with having a secret relationship with Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson. But that changes when a very special day for you approaches and you want them both by your side and for that to happen, a few rules might get broken. [Not Requested]

Sirius Black - Just Give Me A Reason (Ch5)

[Snape!Reader] Coming back for another year in Hogwarts meant you and your brother were away from your worst tormentor. But when your school tormentor finds out about it, things are about to change and you are not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. (Warning: mentions of abuse)

Charlie Weasley - Jaded (Ch2)

Charlie Weasley had been the biggest pain in the ass for the majority of your life. Especially now that you had to survive two weeks with him, and four dragons.

Evan Buckley - Brave

[Not requested] something I’ve been thinking of where Evan notices something’s making you upset when you reveal your new haircut to the team and it leads to some confessions (a bit angsty but happy ending)

[justatalkingface]

what's your opinion on the big 3? When I was hyperfoxed on this series they were the thing I care Abt the most (I enjoyed season 4, obv I'd change some stuff now but I still remember it being atleast ok)

I hate how dirty they did my girl nejire, as far as I'm aware they didn't even do anything with her after the whole pagent thing she just got a small backstory about how she was sad (don't know all of it I haven't been keeping up that well w the manga)

mirios not having a quirky and having to save eri (a girl who I can't imagine would be that skilled at the age she is and has been training on lizards to give his quirk back all together, I'd imagine it taking a few more months but bnhas time is shit so) and coming back in the war arc to punch one person and then basically do noting iicr

The only decently written one was amajiki, I wish they had more going on I think they have a fun dynamic (w them helping taking care of eri and me rlly liking idk what it's called but I love the fluff it brings) :(

Lots of mixed feelings, in all honesty. Lots of mixed feelings.

I'll admit, a big part of my mixed feelings about them is they showed up as the latest, 'Stomp on Izuku's everything' at the point in the story where it was becoming obvious that there was always something stomping on Izuku, and that gave me a bad first impression on them I've never been able to shake... which isn't helped by how they're connected to the clusterfuck of Nighteye, of all people, which is kind of my whole thing with Mirio (warning; I am biased):

As a person, he's obviously nice, but as a character, basiclly his entire reason for existing was, 'give Izuku an existential crisis' and I don't think I've ever forgiven him for that, really. His entire character is just bigger, stronger, older, happier, more capable, more confident, more successful, more loved Izuku, who had a Quirk his whole life and only had to dig deep to find out how strong it, and he, was all along.

Unironically. It's....

It's a really bad look, to be blunt; he feels kind of like a bad fanfiction character written by a bad writer who wanted to put their super special OC in the story, except he's canon.

Since we've never seen him even think something unheroic, there's really nothing that distinguishes him from that impression factual statement, which, again, makes it hard for me to give a shit about him, or even remember him... which is a problem Hori seems to share, lol. It doesn't help that I loathe Sir Nighteye and that most of his development time is spent admiring him, to boot, and that his parts of the story are either empty or focused on a living plot device I can't quite like no matter how hard I try because of how blatant the emotional manipulation is about the biggest story breaking, SOD shattering plot device until Stars and Stripes showed up.

If he ever got any kind of development to flesh him out a human being rather than being either Izuku and/or a heroic archetype, it'd help, but beyond all of that his biggest personality trait is liking jokes, and that barely even comes up. Or, rather, considering both the Final Arc and his response to Bakugou's name, along with Nighteye's own tendencies, 'jokes', maybe.

He doesn't deserve it, I admit it, it's not his fault, but I just can't get past that. He also doesn't deserve to just be forgotten until his big moment of a butt joke, but... MHA, everyone. In all honesty, I'd just like him better if his entire story arc didn't exist in and as some of the worst parts of the Overhaul arc, but he's tainted by that fact.

I freely admit that I am unfairly biased against him, so take all of that with a mountain of salt.

As a side note though, god, the story doesn't seem to realize how badly Nighteye is using the poor kid; Mirio thinks Nighteye is training him because he's worthy, while Nighteye mainly seems to be doing it because he's the closest thing to an All Might clone he can get, bar him actually cloning All Might, even if he grew to like him for who he is. I'm not sure Nighteye ever thought of Mirio with just his Quirk as anything more than a temporary situation; even at the start of canon, when on his own merits he's rising to fame with how successful he is, Nighteye's overall focus is still about getting AFO into the kid.

I almost wish I could see Nighteye explaining how all of his training came down to getting All Might's Quirk, just to see MIrio react and tear Nighteye down a peg about it, except Hori's history of handling these kinds of things means he'd never be allowed to be properly offended on his own behalf, the poor bastard.

Moving on, Tamaki. Out of all of them, he's had the biggest of an on-screen story arc, and in a intellectual way his Quirk is easily the most interesting. Unfortunately, while he has a personality, it feels so bland at times that he's far easier to remember for his Quirk than who he is.

I liked his story, really, but at the time it was overshadowed by Mirio and his everything, and by the time he showed back up it was clear how irrelevant it and he was, so it was more about how (admittedly, very) cool he get his Quirk to be than it was about him, and with some brutal honesty, it's probably because his Quirk is so interesting that he even got that much focus beyond that initial arc by Hori.

And... Nejirie.

In a combat sense she's easily the best of them, really; Mirio is almost purely defensive, which limits him (especially if he's not surprising someone with it) while Tamaki's Quirk, while flexible, is so conditional in ways that can easily hold him back (we only ever see him fight with full preparation; if he's not gearing for a fight he'd be easy to ambush), and like a lot of things in the Final Arc, his big laser canon thing is.... questionable.

Nejirie, though, is just simply powerful. In a setting where everyone has one power and one main application of that power, where you either fly or blast things, but not both, she's the closest I've seen to a 'traditional' super hero, like you'd see in Marvel or DC.

At the same time, though, out of the three of them she least has a story, for obvious reasons, and it's a disgrace, really. If Hori had just spent some time on her, on the her backstory that apparently exists (yeah, I'm not sure where that is either), she could have been so interesting... but really, all she is is the Girl Teammate. Her personality traits are The Girl Teammate's personality traits. She's just The Girl Teammate stamped over all of the interesting stuff, and it's such a waste, it really is.

And finally, as a unit? The Big Three is a shiny toy that Hori forgot in the corner somewhere as soon as he got bored with it. He spent a few minutes oohing and aahing over them, focusing really hard on developing interesting powers, how they could be used, and how strong they were, only to start to lose interest as soon as those powers were established, and he was writing the three of them off before their introductory arc was even over.

[bi-bard]

Taylor Swift Songs That Would Describe a Relationship with Joel Miller - Joel Miller Imagine [HBO's The Last of Us]

Title: Taylor Swift Songs That Would Describe a Relationship with Joel Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller X Reader

Word Count: 2,441 words

Warning(s): fear of commitment, argument, mention of fight

Author's Note: I'm think there's a pattern of me using "cowboy like me" for stories involving Pedro Pascal characters.

Also, just a quick reminder that I write for a gender-neutral reader, so no matter the plot line, anyone can enjoy this.

**Not intentionally written in chronological order**

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

Daylight

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you I've been sleeping so long in a twenty-year dark night And now I see daylight, I only see daylight

It had all been a bit of a blur.

One moment, I was walking with Joel. We were talking about the jobs we had been assigned. Relaxed and calm and as close to normal as we could get in the current world.

The next moment, my memories get lost in a huge jumble of yelling and fighting and fear. It was all such a mess. A terrifying mess.

My next clear moment was dragging Joel down the road with me. I didn't stop moving until we had gotten inside and the door was locked.

"I'm so sorry," I mumbled as Joel sat at my dining table.

It had been my fault. At least, partially.

It was all a long and very messy story.

Joel knew the whole thing. I think that's why he was so fast to entertain the whole fight.

Not that I ever wanted him involved. In all honesty, my life would have been so much easier without ever thinking about any of my life before the outbreak... as backwards as that sounds.

"Not your fault," he muttered, looking down at his knuckles.

"Except it is," I moved to sit in the chair next to him. "This wouldn't have happened if you never met me or if I just kept my fucking mouth shut. Now, you're hurt and fuck knows what we're gonna have to deal with now. Shit, I should've been smarter about this-"

"Stop it," he cut me off. "You did nothing wrong. Your ex having his head stuck up his ass is nowhere near your fault."

I let out a sigh as my eyes closed. I shook my head before pushing myself up. I grabbed my little first-aid kit and made my way back to the table.

I grabbed his hand.

"Why'd you do that," I asked. "Nothing good can come from shit like that."

"I doubt he would've let me walk away without getting a few blows in."

I did my best to clean the small cuts along his hand.

He didn't speak up again until I was wrapping the bandage around his hand.

"Y'know...," he started and trailed off. I looked back at him. "Never mind. It's nothing."

"Tell me," I pushed.

Maybe some part of me knew what he was going to say. Maybe I was desperate to hear it out loud. I would like to think that this is why I pushed him to say it out loud.

He let out a small sigh as he seemingly weighed the consequences of his actions.

"There's something else," I continued as I placed his bandaged hand on the table. "You just told me. Why did you do it?"

"Because I love you," he admitted.

I had to bite my lip to keep my smile from getting obnoxiously big.

We had been together for a while now. We had gotten through many days in the hell that was the modern world today. But in all that time, those words hadn't found a place in our lives.

I felt like a teenager again for a few moments.

"Did you get stuck like that-"

I reached forward and smacked his arm in response. He grinned at me.

"I love you too," I said after a pause.

He looked down at the table to hide his smile.

I reached over and placed my hand on his.

For just a moment, it felt like real peace was more than just a far-off dream.

The Way I Loved You

Breaking down and coming undone It's a roller coaster kind of rush And I never knew I could feel that much And that's the way I loved you

It was all such a mess of a situation.

I had never planned on interacting with Joel again after we had separated. I knew that it would've been unrealistic to try to never see him again, but I could always turn the other way and leave.

Now, I was being forced into a situation where the only person I could interact with was Joel.

It was like the universe was attempting to play some stupid practical joke on me and I was failing to see the punchline.

I followed Joel and Ellie back to Joel's place. The only thing we could do at the time was wait for the time to pass.

I dropped my bag on the floor next to the couch before plopping on the seat that pretty much used to be designated as mine. I tried to keep an eye on Ellie without making it seem like I was staring. She went to sit by the window while Joel sat right next to me.

"Kid," I spoke up. She looked at me. "You should get some rest now. You aren't gonna get much of it later."

"Where," she asked.

I pointed behind me. "Mattress in the back."

"She's not sleeping on my bed," Joel interjected.

"I don't wanna sleep on his bed," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest. "He probably stinks."

I rolled my eyes before grabbing the spare blanket and throwing it to her. "To prevent the spread of germs... and protect against the smell. Now go."

She walked into the back without another word.

I sighed and relaxed into the couch.

"You should take your own advice," Joel muttered after a minute or two. I shook my head. "I'm serious, (Y/n)."

"I am just fine," I looked at him. "Never needed much sleep to function anyway."

He ran his hand over his face. "Always so damn stubborn."

"Can we not start this," I asked. "We've got enough to worry about without biting each other's heads off."

He sighed and looked away.

"You used to appreciate my stubbornness, anyway," I added.

I heard him chuckle. I felt a small grin pulling at the corner of my lips.

"You think we can do this?"

"Don't know," he shrugged. "I doubt we have much of a choice. Just gotta be ready to go."

I nodded. "You're scared, aren't you?"

"Scared? No. Annoyed."

"It's okay if you are," I said. "That's not a bad thing. It's just human."

He looked over at me. "Don't assume that you know how my mind works."

"For fuck's sake," I mumbled. It was my turn to run my hand over my face. "I just asked if we could avoid doing this. I was trying to comfort you. Be helpful. You have no reason to snap at me like that."

"No reason?"

"Yeah, no reason."

"What about you leaving?"

My jaw clenched. "You told me to go."

"You made no attempt to stay."

"I made an attempt every fucking day," I snapped before quickly lowering my voice, glancing back to make sure Ellie wasn't shifting around. "I fucking loved you, Joel. I fought to hold onto you with everything I had. You got scared and threw me out. After everything you promised me, after everything we did."

He didn't reply as I deflated into the couch cushion.

"Don't try to claim that I didn't try to hold on. I still feel like I'm clinging onto any part of you that I can find."

I looked out the window to the sun. I wanted to focus on anything else.

I missed him. God knows that I had missed Joel. Every day. Waking up without him was awful. Having to turn around and walk away because it was all I could do to keep myself from crumbling was hell. I just wanted what we had back.

"(Y/n)," he muttered.

I closed my eyes for a moment, not turning my head.

I felt the couch shift as he moved.

His hand touched my leg. "Please, look at me."

I turned my head back to him.

There was a pause.

One where we were sitting in silence, watching each other's reactions.

Joel seemed to hesitate for a moment before he leaned forward.

I froze for a moment as he kissed me. It was such a soft moment, yet it completely overwhelmed me. I had missed him so much that it hurt. That wasn't new. I had known about that pain for a long time now.

But what I didn't know was the way that the pain could be numbed. It was like a warmth spread through my chest, pushing away any pain, even if it was just for a little while.

I slowly kissed him back, feeling muscle memory take over as my hands reached out to touch his sides. Too long. It had been far too long since I experienced something as monumental as this moment.

I leaned back slowly, only moving far enough away to speak, "I love you."

He paused for a moment. I watched his eyes scan every part of my face. I couldn't tell if he was trying to see if I was lying or if he was trying to confirm that I wasn't some illusion his mind had created.

"I love you too," he muttered after a bit. I smiled at him.

His forehead rested against mine. We just sat there for a little while.

Through all of the chaos and the bullshit, I knew that I would always want him.

I just needed to keep a hold of him.

cowboy like me

And the skeletons in both our closets Plotted hard to fuck this up And the old men that I've swindled Really did believe I was the one And the ladies lunching have their stories about When you passed through town But that was all before I locked it down

Neither one of us planned to have that conversation that night.

It was late. Really late.

It was one of the first times that I had stayed with him for the night.

It was nice. Being around him usually was. But no matter how nice it was, I could not get myself to fall asleep.

It wasn't a new thing for me to not feel comfortable falling asleep. I didn't expect lying next to Joel to change that.

I let out a sigh as I rolled over.

My head ended up on Joel's chest as I let one of my arms fall over his torso. I didn't even realize that I had brushed a scar until he flinched. I pulled my hand away, moving my head so I could look at him.

"You okay," I asked.

"Yeah," he muttered.

"Did I hit a fresh wound or something?"

"No," he shook his head. "You just have cold hands."

"Never bothered you before."

He chuckled.

I sat up and looked at him. "Are you sure that you're okay?"

He sighed. "(Y/n)..."

"I'm just worried about you."

He didn't respond.

He made no effort to stop me as I reached forward and moved the blanket off of him. I furrowed my eyebrows at him as I tried to figure out what I had bothered.

It took me a second, but I eventually moved my hand to lightly touch a scar on his side. He tensed.

"Sorry," I muttered. I pulled my hand away. "What... What's it from?"

I felt like I was watching the scales tip in his mind. Pros and cons changing the balance.

"I'll... I'll tell you my story if you tell me yours," I offered.

He reached out and touched my leg. I placed my hand on his.

"Deal?"

He nodded. "Deal."

I grinned and shifted to get comfortable.

That's when I first found out about Sarah. He told me everything about the day of the outbreak. The panic and the crash and the soldier. I held his hand through all of it. I felt a need to commit every sentence he spoke to memory. I needed to know this all because that was the only way I would be able to properly help him.

"Your turn," he muttered after a moment of silence.

I blinked at him a few times before slowly nodding. "Right."

I took a deep breath. I felt him tapping his fingers against my hand.

"You... are not gonna like this sentence," I started. His eyebrows furrowed. "Technically... I am... married."

"What-"

"Let me get through the story first," I stopped him. "It was a while ago now. I... I was convinced that we were in love. The day that the outbreak happened, we had been inside all day. Our neighbor had broken in... he was infected. I just remember the angry look on his face. It made me sick.

"My husband and I took off. We drove for a while. I can barely remember where we were even trying to get to. I just remember ditching the car in the traffic and taking off on foot.

"We... We got cornered by one of the infected. There was this hole in the ceiling of this building. He climbed up first and I couldn't get up there and instead of helping me up... he thanked me for saving him and took off."

There was a pause between us.

"He sounds like an ass," Joel commented. I chuckled. "How did you get out?"

"I found this old bat. A solid one. I had never fought anything, really. I yelled when I hit the thing over the head. Screamed. I kept thinking about how that person had a family and friends and how many of them could be dead. After that, I hid away until I could safely get to a QZ."

Joel nodded. "Did you ever find out what happened to your husband?"

I shook my head. "And I don't want to. I hate to wish death on someone, but... he kinda did that to me... to my face, so... I hope he got his ass kicked."

"So, you're only married..."

"Because the government's been a little too busy to figure out divorce court right now," I shrugged. "And I have no desire to track the bastard down again."

"Good," he mumbled.

I furrowed my eyebrows.

"If you stuck with that guy, then we would've never happened," he explained.

"I see."

Joel pushed himself to sit up.

"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you any of this before," I said.

"Can't say that I'm too upset," he replied.

He slowly leaned over and pressed his lips to mine. I slowly kissed him back, grinning against his lips.

Maybe, just maybe, there was something that I could let myself hold onto in this shitty world.

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

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[sinvulkt]

20 Questions For Writers

Wow, thank you so much for the tag @fanfictasia !! I've wanted to participate in something like this forever!! 🎶✨️✨️

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Right now? 66.

"Yes, as a star wars writer, I am very proud of that. No, I do not intend to change it anytime soon."

I really need to focus on (and finish) some of my WIPs, and that mean trying not to disperse my energy amidst one shots (no matter how much i love monthly challenges and fic exchange events). Also I'm very proud of that 66 count and want to appreciate it xd.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

321k words!!

(More or less 100k / year 🎶 little me would never believe that 0.0

My school exam results sure don't, with how they are dropping 🤣)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Star wars mostly (Vaderkin or my OC Sinvulkt), then Marvel (Dr Strange), Dream SMP (Dream), Le Visiteur du Future (Renard) and more recently Batman (Bruce Wayne) as well as Avatar: the last airbender (Zuko).

Plus the original stories I am supposed to write but almost never end up doing xd (the engagement in fandom compared to original stories make the switch hard xd).

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

1. Dreamt of a Never Ending Sky (Dream SMP)

669 kudos

2. To Fly Free Under The Morning Sun (Star Wars)

480 kudos

3. On the Edge of Twilight (Star Wars)

380 kudos

4. Scales of Embers (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

353 kudos

5. Crash Landing on Space Australia (Star Wars)

319 kudos

I'll never know how my Dream SMP fic got so much engagement. Good timing at a moment the fandom was in effervescence, I guess. Scales of Embers scoring so high is also a surprise 0.0. I discovered it had that many kudos today. It’s a shame the Dr Strange fandom is small because I think my Dr Strange WIP What If Doctor Strange Lost His Humanity ? would have deserved a place here. It definitely does in my heart.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to! As a reader, I always feel super happy when the author shows that they’ve read and appreciated my comments. I know that personality an author who answers make me more likely to want to drop a comment.

As an author, I absolutely want to show how much I love every single comments, so I try to answer them all. But I get a little overwhelmed sometimes, bcs lots of other stuff going on irl or another reason. As such, it can happen that I don't feel the energy to answer a comment on the spot. And if I don't answer it on the spot (using the power of the wiggy dizzy nice happy feeling of getting a comment), I don't necessarily have the energy to answer later on. I currently have something like 60 unanswered comments I think? TT.TT

But rest assured that whether I answered or not, I absolutely adore and cherish every single ones!! Comments are amazing! ✨️.✨️

(This kind of engagement is one of the only reason I managed to settle into such an active rythm of writing after years of trying then dropping the hobby~)

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Glance at my fics.

Uhhh... This is a hard question here... Many of them have angsty endings XD

Mostly the ones at the beginning (the worst written ones xd). I wonder why~

Also a lot of them don' have endings yet XD

I'll say amidst the 'old' fics from 2021, Day 8 - Screaming (Star Wars) would be the angstier one (or most horrible one ig xd).

But as far as recent fic go... While I haven't finished writing it bcs its wordcount exploded in my face, I already plotted / drafted it a few months ago and I know the ending, so I'll choose:

Batman’s Downfall (To Stand Alone) (Batman)

I noticed my kind of angst doesn’t have much success around these parts 🫠🤣. Oh well. I cherish it all the same :3.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Sometimes I think I wrote too many fics. It's hard to select one.

Uhhh... My fluffiest works are one shots in Of Feathers and Freedom serie, but they are part of the series so it’s not really an 'ending'.

...

I'll answer for the crackiest story rather than the happiest ending bcs all my finished fics ending are ominous open ending at best xd.

The Blob Adventures Of Excentrics Jedi (Star Wars)

Because it's cute blob drawings of our crazy team of OC in taaoej, and I love them (although we are all angst lovers in taaoej, so it's more crack-angst, and we don't know the ending bcs there isn't really one. Not yet at least. Hopefully never).

8. Do you get hate on your fic?

Just my own innervoice as far as I'm aware. But then I've always been rather clueless when people tried to 'hate on me'. The message usually just got lost somewhere in dreamspace immensity, never computing.

I've found the fandoms communities really welcoming at the very least!!

9. Do you write smut?

No.

I don't really enjoy reading smut. Nor romance for the matter. I don't think I'd enjoy writing it.

But maybe I'll try one day, for the sake of experimenting all genres.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I never did. I don't know why. Maybe I just never felt the need to mix characters and universes. There are amazing crossovers out there though, so who knows, maybe one day I'll try one.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of. In all honesty, I don't think my works are nearly popular enough to get stolen xd.

My writing style isn’t that good yet, and my dislike of romance when the majority of the fandom community is ship-powered means I end up in a corner quite niche. (A corner I love, that being said. Yay Crack, Angst and Gen~)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but maybe I'll translate some of mine in french someday. Be it only so that I do write fiction in my native language from time to time.

Anyone that wanna translate my fics, feel free to!!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Yes, To Fly Free Under The Morning Sun (Star Wars)!!

I’m still waiting for my co-author @purpleopossum to come back to me / get back in star wars mood to continue that one. 🫠

Can’t say my hopes are that high up after all this time, but it’s the redemption | healing part of the serie and I don’t really have fun writing alone redemption | healing part... i prefer doing the whole mayhem that create the injury in the first place. And with how long some of my fics hiatus are (and I got no excuse for those xd), it’s only fair for me to wait. (I did write more other works for the dragon Vader serie in the meantime xd).

I made an oath to myself to never leave a work unfinished though, so we’ll see. If in several years purple still doesn’t wish to continue it, or if she inform me she is dropping the story, I’ll try to make some kind of ending. It’s part of the game i guess.

Alternatively, the The Amazing Adventures Of Excentrics Jedi universe is a group of star wars OCs that we made together with @pat-the-togorian , @asteral-feileacan , @ct2002-rema and Xylian. I don’t know if that count as co-writing? We usually write our OCs pov.

But in all cases, co-writting is very fun and I’d definitely do it again if other opportunities arise in the future.

14. What‘s your all-time favourite ship?

The absence of ship is my all-time favorite ship. Otherwise, "main character / digging their own grave" would be my 'favorite ship' since I tend to synch with idiots snarky jerks disasters.

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

To Fly Free Under The Morning Sun (Star Wars) that I mentioned for question 13? 🤣

More seriously, I'll answer On the Edge of Twilight (Star Wars)

Because it's my vent fic. I know the main plot line, I vaguely know the current arc, but no one can predict where the next arc will go. It's all pure impulse and while I have a vague idea of 'ending', I refuse to plan a path towards it. This fic specifically, I want to keep pure impulse. So I'd love for it to become some kind of "The NeverEnding Story". :3

16. What’s your writing strengths?

I write.

No seriously, it's not something I did four years ago appart from vent poems here and there. Writing is in itself a huge writing strenght!

Otherwise I'm also a bottomless well of idea. It's pretty neat.

17. What’s your writing weaknesses?

... romance?

Or dialogues. Lastly I have a lot of frustration around the transition from dialogue / transition / dialogue. I feel like I'm crap at properly timing that.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

It's fun. I do it for games sometimes. Since apparently writing normally is not chllenging enough for my brain sometimes. It did teach me bits of mando'a.

Recently for Sēċan (Star Wars) I decided last minute to put the whole droid dialogue in morse, and I regret none of it.

I'm usually only doing it for one shots though, and never 'official existing' languages until now.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Star wars :p

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Now that's another hard question, how am I supposed to select one.

I'm gonna answer the whole Of Feathers And Freedom (Star Wars) serie. Bcs wings. :3

Tag time~ (if you wish to)

@purpleopossum @pat-the-togorian @cinderfeather @beguilewritesstuff @purple-iris @dreaminghour @ravenite-void @trickstress333 @bluntblade @doctorgeekery @stewardofningishzida @jenae-0 @trickstress333 @kittonafoxgirl @pastelcourage @salparadiselost @kefalion @charlottevader @ravenstakeflight @starr234 @aelaer @sarcasticfirefighter @mckiwi @linzerj @sonderwalker @exomal @tonhalszendvics @nephilimswitchlight @firejay112 @only-here-for-the-star-wars @ajedilikehisfather @makaronik @chickadeechickadoo @dirtkid123 @numerousbees1106 @akizumy @25centsoda @udekai @wendingways @silvereddaye @in-company-of-misery @wisechaosglitter @kuraiarcoiris @alright-anakin @wyvunn you're more than welcome to join on the interview fun!! (Or to ignore the tagging if not interested xd).

I know I tagged. I lot of people. Some of you may recognise my pseud, some may not. But I thought it would be interesting to hear the answer of the various authors with whom I interacted on ao3 over the years, so I went and digged up those with tumblr I could find from my inbox 🤣

(Hopefully I didn’t bother any of you >.< - otherwise I apologize. Same for if I accidentally tagged a non-writer.)

I'd love to hear your answers! 🎶

[cookinguptales]

feelin kind of demoralized today, just gotta make a vent post

So... my actual job is related to the traditional & self-publishing industry. I spend a lot of time with published authors, trad, self, small press, etc. and I know the ins and outs of things pretty well.

I have also written since I was pretty young and, not to be an asshole, but I know that I'm fairly good at it. People usually like my stuff. I've won writing contests. But at the same time I know I just absolutely do not have the temperament for the industry, so I've never tried any kind of professional publishing for my work.

Some of it is that I truly do believe that monetizing all your hobbies is not a great idea, especially if you struggle with your mental health like I do. If you monetize all your hobbies, suddenly you have a lot of jobs and very few hobbies that you can actually use to unwind. Writing is really, really important to me, and I couldn't bear if it became a permanent source of stress like it is for some writers I know.

I know several authors who love writing, like love writing, but when your writing is connected to whether you have food on the table... it becomes easy to become very, very stressed with writing. Especially when dealing with the editing process, corporate bureaucracy, a nitpicky audience, corporate obligations, self-advocacy, self-advertising, etc. It can be a lot of work to make your hobby into your job, and that work can make something you loved turn into something that's weighing you down.

And being very real with you, I know my own temperament and I know the publishing industry would probably kill me. I'm not as much of a small, nervous dog as I was when I was young, but I still deal poorly with rejection and get demoralized easily. I'm very, very bad at advertising, especially self-advertising, and I'm pretty absent-minded. I love the writing part, but when you're writing for a living, the writing part is only a small fraction of what you need to do.

I don't have enough patience for editing and I get frustrated when things are going slowly and god, the advertising. It used to be that one of the biggest benefits of trad pubbing was that they'd at least do the advertising for you, but even big-name authors are having to pretty much do it themselves these days. And some people are really good at selling themselves and their work! But uh. I'm... not one of them. It is certainly not a skill that I possess. lmao

So... I recognize my weaknesses and I act accordingly. But at the same time, I do really love writing. And I do really want people to read my writing. Some of the stories I've written are so dear to me, but just getting people to read them feels nearly impossible.

This one, though... idk, AITNISTS feels different. It does feel more "important", somehow. I can't quite put it into words. It feels like I've put more of myself onto the page and like, for once, I've written something that feels really whole. And I want people to read it so badly. But I'm so ill-equipped for it!

I've tried to keep the main story as accessible as physically possible while still introducing something like Patreon to maintain... idk, an air of legitimacy? It's something that a lot of art has found success with in recent years, that kind of split model. Offering most of it for free to facilitate a relationship with fans but still being like "yeah, but this work has value and if you want all of it, you'll need to pay a few dollars."

And honestly, I've had a lot of success! AITNISTS is not pulling in the kind of numbers that my fanworks do, but it's doing far better than my other original work has. The people who've read it really seem to like it and are feeling the things that I want them to feel. But every time I post a chapter to absolute crickets I do have A Small Crisis lmao.

Y'know, the "maybe actually this story is terrible" and "maybe actually I'm not good enough" and "who am I kidding actually" kind of vibe. I know that you never really know what people on the other side of the screen are doing and thinking, but it's still so nerve-wracking.

I've had... let's just say many moments where I've considered just calling the whole thing off, dumping the rest of the story on the internet, and pretending I never started any of it.

(s/o to my friends who left very nice comments on my draft that I return to often when I'm feeling like I should just delete the whole thing.)

And I've had a lot of other moments like "god, no one is even READING the blogs, even the people who are paying for them, so why am I wasting everybody's time with all this?"

It's almost like... absent the presence of everyone else, I love this story. I love writing this story. I love writing the blog posts that supplement this story. But once you start posting all that and everyone just kind of stares at you in silence, you start to second-guess the value of all those things you loved. It's very hard to silence the voice in your head that's telling you that you're just annoying people and wasting their time.

It... has been both validating and frustrating to know that I was right about how I'd handle publishing, even if I'm doing a much more chill version of it rn.

But every so often I do get a comment or a message or a Patron and I'm like oh!!! they are reading it! they do like it! this person is getting a lot of value out of the blog posts!

And that fixes the problem until like. The next time no one says anything to me or reads what I write for two weeks lmao.

(And no, I am not ignorant to the fact that a lot of these self-recriminating meltdowns happen in tune with my hormonal cycle. I've had PMDD for many years and I know when it's affecting me. But I think it's probably a combination of real and imagined frustrations rn.)

It's frustrating because I'm a fairly logical person, but also just a deeply anxious one. lmao. So I can keep patiently telling myself all the things I know are true. Y'know, that the publishing industry and whether people find your work at all is based partially on persistence and regularity but if we're being real with each other, mostly luck. One person with a large following reading your work, loving it, and telling a bunch of people is generally the difference between your work becoming popular or falling into obscurity.

I keep telling myself that I'm getting quite a few hits (I'm averaging 100-200 hits per chapter now??) so someone must be reading it. And if I get zero feedback on a chapter, that doesn't actually mean that it's bad. Sometimes people don't have time to read it or don't have much to say or have stuff going on in their own lives.

Like... just because people told me they were excited about this story and told me they wanted to read it, that doesn't mean they are. That's just the way life works, unfortunately, and I've certainly experienced that in fandom, too. It's not like every person who told me they wanted to read it got a glimpse of the finished project and ran for the hills even if that's kind of how it feels sometimes. There's no such thing as a guaranteed audience, and just because someone reads all your other work, that doesn't mean they read this one!

(Dear self, they don't secretly hate you!)

I also keep telling myself that I love this story and a few of my friends whose opinions I value love this story. That's definitely not nothing. But I just very intrinsically find it difficult to find value in my own work -- which I know is a me problem -- and even though I know you're supposed to write for yourself, I just... god, I desperately want people to read this one. I want people to love these characters. Sharing this one with people does feel like sharing part of myself.

More than that, though... I feel like, while kind of niche, I still feel like this story is probably my best opportunity to find readers at all. Greek mythology retellings are pretty popular and are fandom adjacent, so that makes for an easy segue from my fandom persona to an original one. It's m/m, which makes it infinitely more marketable than my f/f, whether I like that or not. It's romance, which has a huge and very dedicated audience.

So I'll admit that a part of me is like "god, if I can't get people to read this then what hope do I have to get people to read the f/f witchy familiar shelter book? If I can't get people to read this, then what about the Medusa story? What about all the other stories that I want to tell that are even less marketable? Should I just give up on everything now?"

When I talk about marketability, i's not even about the money. Obviously the money is nice -- I'm a disabled woman trying to make accessibility renovations to my house and travel as much as possible in the limited time that my body will still let me, of course the money is nice -- but it's more that people read marketable stories. If I can't even get people to read them, how will I get people to connect with them?

I've made enough through Patreon to buy a couple books about Minoan Crete, which is gratifying, and used the rest to do a little bit of hesitant advertising in the hopes that more people will read this thing, but like. I am not good at making my own projects interesting lmao. And writing is a much harder sell than visual arts on social media these days. People do not wanna go to that secondary location lmao. Plus, attention spans are... not what they used to be, I say as someone who has written online and worked in the publishing industry for decades. It's definitely more difficult than it used to be to get people to want to read things that are longer than a paragraph or two. Every author I know is trying to find ways around that, but the fact remains. lmao

But I digress. To get back on topic... like, I know that seeing success in these things takes persistence and luck. Trying to get people to look at your art is always a gamble, and brother, I fucking hate gambling. Uncertainty makes me incredibly stressed out, and I guess I'm just feeling... uncertain. And kind of demoralized. Really kind of wondering what I'm even doing here and if I should just be putting all this effort into a different hobby or at least the work I actually get paid for.

But I guess all I can do is keep going. That's the persistence part.

Maybe I'll go write that blog post about Ancient Greek music... Maybe that will make me feel better. ;o;

It won't, but wallowing won't help me, either, so. I'm gonna eat a bagel and write a blog post. Come at me, Delphic Hymns. lmao.

[oediex]

The Binding, by Bridget Collins

About two years ago, I sort of accidentally picked up a book from the library, The Binding by Bridget Collins. I was nearby looking for another book, which was incidentally also a story about books (People of the Book by Geraldine Brooks), and Bridget Collins's book grabbed my attention by its title and book cover.

It's a story set in a pre-industrial world in which book binding is a unique skill with which so-called Binders can capture a memory of a person, which is then forgotten by said person. It is used for forgetting painful memories or secrets that need to be hidden. Sort of in the style of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (one of my favourite films). The blurb on the book spoke of a "secret love affair" or something like that, which also peeked my interest.

I started reading it and it was beautifully written. And then something happened in the story which made me realise that this wasn't just any love story - it was an mlm love story! This wasn't clear from the blurb of the book, so it was a nice surprise. Any representation is representation, and all that. Finding queer love stories (as a main plot point) hidden in books that aren't advertised that way is something I quite like.

So if you like queer/mlm love stories, especially if they are slow-burning, angsty, hurt/comfort love stories, this is the book for you. (Please note, though, that it does take part in a homophobic world, which also plays an important part in the book.)

Anyway, I liked the book so much that I asked it for my birthday, and I'm now rereading it. This time, though, I decided to look up and write down all the words I didn't immediately understand. Note that I didn't look up any words the first time I read it. The story was perfectly understandable without it. But I really wanted to understand it completely, 100%. And there were quite a few words that I didn't immediately understood, or that I did understand, but I wanted to know precisely what they meant. Some of them are words specific to the craft that is described quite a lot, which is the binding of books. Other words I didn't understand (precisely) because English is not my first language!

I've reread 7 chapters so far, which is 108 pages, and a total of ...71 words. 🙈 I doubt people will read them, but I love having a record of them, so they are below the cut!

If anyone does look at them, I'd be interested to hear if these are words that you know or not, and whether English is your first language or not.

1. sheaf: a bundle of grain stalks laid lengthwise and tied together after reaping.

When the letter came I was out in the fields, binding up my last sheaf of wheat with hands that were shaking so much I could hardly tie the knot.

2. stook: a group of sheaves of grain stood on end in a field

It was only Alta, winding her way through the stooks towards me

3. pustule: a small blister or pimple in the skin containing pus

As if I'd been languishing in bed with a cough, or vomiting, or covered with pustules.

4. worry: (of a dog or other carnivorous animal) tear at or pull about with the teeth

I turned away from her and concentrated on sucking the cut at the base of my thumb, worrying at it with my tongue until I couldn't taste blood anymore.

5. stays: a corset made of two pieces laced together and stiffened by strips of whalebone.

"Challenge me again when I'm not wearing stays."

6. flare: gradually become wider at one end

She turned away, her dusty skirts flaring about her ankles.

7. scullery: a small kitchen or room at the back of a house used for washing dishes and other dirty household work

8. scullery maid: a female domestic servant responsible for washing dishes and doing other menial household chores

"Honestly, I might as well be a scullery maid ..."

9. clump: another term for clomp: walk with a heavy tread

Pa clumped across to the cupboard, bent down and pulled out a bottle of blackberry gin.

10. truss: tie up (someone) with their arms at their sides

If I have to truss you up and leave you on her doorstep, you'll go.

11. reel: lose one's balance and stagger or lurch violently; walk in a staggering or lurching manner, especially while drunk

I reeled across to the far side of the yard and leant against the wall.

12. vertiginous: relating to or affected by vertigo

a last vertiginous glimpse of sunlight before the blackness swallowed me.

13. gable: the triangular upper part of a wall at the end of a ridged roof

14. squat: short and thickset; disproportionately broad or wide

The moon had moved; now it was over the gable of the farmhouse and all the shadows were short and squat.

15. farthing: a former monetary unit and coin of the UK, withdrawn in 1961, equal to a quarter of an old penny

I could recall the clink of my errand-money in my pocket that day - sixpence in farthings, so bulking they bulged through my trousers

16. heady: having a strong or exhilarating effect

and the heady, carefree feeling of going to Wakening Fair and slipping away from the others, wondering what I'd buy

17. trestle: a framework consisting of a horizontal beam supported by two pairs of sloping legs, used in pairs to support a flat surface such as a table top

It was hardly a stall at all, only a trestle table guarded by a man with restless eyes, but it was piled high with books.

18. saunter: welk in a slow, relaxed manner

I'd sauntered over, jingling my money, and the man had glanced over both shoulders before he grinned at me.

19. reel: feel shocked, bewildered, or giddy

I nodded, still reeling from the visions I'd seen.

20. thatch: a roof covering of straw, reeds, palm leaves, or a similar material

Under the dark thatch every pane was like a rectangle of flame

21. palsy: (dated) paralysis, especially that which is accompanied by involuntary tremors

My hands were twitching as though I had palsy.

22. endpaper: a leaf of paper at the beginning or end of a book, especially one fixed to the inside of the cover

23. pare: trim (something) by cutting away its outer edges

24. tooling: the ornamentation of a leather book cover with designs impressed by heated tools

25. blind tooling: the impressing of text or a design on a book cover without the use of colour or gold leaf

I learned to make endpapers, pare leather, to finish with blind or gold tooling.

26. copper: (dated) a large copper or iron container for boiling laundry

We shared the rest of the chores, but after a morning bent over painstaking work I was glad to chop wood or fill the copper for laundry.

27. blench: make a sudden flinching movement out of fear or pain; become pale

He gave me a crooked, empty smile, as if he was proud of noticing, as if he was pleased I'd blenched.

28. lattice: a structure consisting of strips of wood or metal crossed and fastened together with square or diamond-shaped spaces left between, used as a screen or fence or as a support for climbing plants; an interlaced structure or pattern resembling a lattice

The light lay on the floorboards in a silvery lattice.

29. keening: the action of wailing in grief for a dead person

Long before I could see their faces clearly, their voices carried across the snow: a desperate mutter of encouragement, and above that the thin desolate keening I'd thought was the wind.

30. gobbet: a piece or lump of flesh, food, or other material

A gobbet of paste dropped from my brush onto the workbench, as if someone had spat over my shoulder.

31. cockle: (of paper) form wrinkles or puckers

32. pucker: a tightly gathered wrinkle or small fold

I'd let the paper cockle, and I'd let it dry; when I tried to peel it away it ripped.

33. pewter: a grey alloy of tin with copper and antimony (formerly tin and lead)

In this light my tools looked like pewter, and a silver smear of glue glinted on the wood like a snail's trail.

35. alarum: archaic term for alarm

There was a bell jangling too, a continuous clanging like an alarum.

36. kipper: cured fish

Now, get the old bitch out here or she'll get smoked into a kipper with the rest.

37. jamb: a side post or surface of a doorway, window, or fireplace

I put down my cold mug of tea and leant forward, and saw the gap between the door and the jamb.

38. hessian: a strong, coarse fabric made from hemp or jute, used for sacks and upholstery

39. upholstery: soft, padded textile covering that is fixed to furniture such as armchairs and sofas

At last I reached out and pulled the cloth down over them; then I stood looking down at the coarse brown hessian.

40. nacreous: adjective form of nacre: mother-of-pearl; a smooth shining iridescent substance forming the inner layer of the shell of some molluscs, especially oysters and abalones, used in ornamentation

I could still see the smooth edge of a femur, the nacreous curve of the skull, a miniature, perfect finger-bone.

41. scrimshaw: adorn ivory or shells with carved or coloured designs

42. burnisher: noun form of burnish: polish (something, especially metal) by rubbing

43. agate: an ornamental stone consisting of a hard variety of chalcedony (quartz), typically banded in appearance

I found a bone folder carved with faint scrimshaw flowers, a book of silver leaf, a burnisher with a thick, umber-streaked agate ...

44. daguerrotype: a photograph taken by an early photographic process, employing an iodine-sensitised silvered plate and mercury vapour

In one cupboard I found a wooden box full of trinkets, wrapped in old silk as if they were important: a child's bonnet, a lock of hair, a daguerrotype mounted in a watch case

45. tack: a small, sharp broad-headed nail; also, equipment used in horse riding, including the saddle and bridle [unclear which of the two definitions is meant]

and there were repairs to be made, tools and tack and a back wall of the barn that needed seeing to ...

46. camphor: a white volatile crystalline substance with an aromatic smell and bitter taste, occurring in certain essential oils

47. chilblain: a painful, itching swelling on a hand or foot caused by poor circulation in the skin when exposed to cold

For an instant I thought I could smell turpentine and camphor, the balm Ma made to ward off chilblains

48. slough: shed or remove (a layer of dead skin)

I'd sloughed that life off like a skin.

49. mottled: marked with spots or smears of colour

Against the mottled grey of the windows the binder's chair stood out in silhouette.

50. paroxysm: a sudden attack or outburst of a particular emotion or activity

At first it was as involuntary as being sick: great paroxysms like retching, each spasm driven by an unpitying reflex that made me gasp and sob for air.

51. range: a large cooking stove with burners or hotplates and one or more ovens, all of which are kept continually hot

When I woke up the range had gone out and it was nearly dark.

53. ragged: (of a sound) not controlled, uneven

54. peal: a loud ringing of a bell

The bell rang, for longer this time, a ragged angry peal as if they'd tugged too hard at the rope.

55. trap: a light, two-wheeled carriage pulled by a horse or pony

Behind him there was a trap, with a lantern hanging from the seat-rail.

56. unctuous: excessively flattering or ingratiating, oily

It was the first time I'd heard the doctor speak to her, and his voice was so tactful it was positively unctuous.

57. gorge: (archaic) the throat; the contents of the stomach

I had never heard Seredith struggle to control her anger, and it made my own gorge rise.

58. signet: a small seal, especially one set in a ring, used instead of or with a signature to give authentication to an official document

The signet ring on his little finger glinted.

59. morocco: fine flexible leather made (originally in Morocco) from goatskins tanned with sumac, used especially for book covers and shoes

60. sumac: a shrub or small tree with compound leaves, reddish hairy fruits in conical clusters, and bright autumn colours

61. headband: an ornamental strip of coloured silk fastened to the top of the spine of a book

62. nonpareil: having no match or equal; unrivalled - one of the basic patterns in paper marbling. It is made by using a comb-like implement to pull streaks across the marbling paint.

Black morocco, gold tooling, false raised bands. Headbands sewn in black and gold, endpapers marbled in red nonpareil.

63. crotchet: a perverse or unfounded belief or notion

64. -monger: denoting a person who promotes a specified activity, situation or feeling, especially one that is undesirable or discreditable

65. stick-in-the-mud: a person who is dull and unadventurous and who resists change

He thinks I'm a crotchet-monger. A stubborn, backward old stick-in-the-mud.

66. caddy: a small storage container, typically one with divisions

67. tea caddy: a small container in which tea is kept for daily use

The tea caddy was so old that the green-and-gold pattern was speckled with rust, and flakes of paint came off on my fingers when I opened it.

68. rennet: curdled milk from the stomach of an unweaned calf, containing rennin and used in curdling milk for cheese

69. rennin: an enzyme secreted into the stomach of unweaned mammals causing the curdling of milk

70. junket: a dish of sweetened and flavored curds of milk

71. curd: a soft, white substance formed when milk coagulates, used as a basis for cheese

There was no point taking her bread and butter - when Toller came I'd ask him to bring us some rennet, and then I could make her some junket

[umbracirrus]

Random Friday WIP go-

I have had just a massive writing inspiration moment today after about two, three weeks of just having no writing fuel (hence why I've been drawing my OCs!). And because I'm really happy with this and the turn in events, I want to share some of my WIP today.

I'm trying to write some of the story of my Dragonborn Aevra, and I'm actually hoping to maybe post the first chapter of it soon because things are going very well with gettng it written! It's going to be called 'As a leaf would scatter to the wind'... I just kind of liked the visualisation of a leaf getting blown around matching Aevra trying to get her life in order with the chaos which unfolds around her.

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

"Ah, General… Not too long ago, we received a missive addressed to you. I am glad that you arrived when you did, I was just about to have a soldier carry the message to Solitude for your attention," the Legate stated as he approached the General, the only person of the convoy who had so far dismounted their horse upon their arrival. "Here."

Tullius frowned as he took the rolled-up parchment from the Altmer's hand, before unfurling it where he stood. There was a slight tension as he then released the bottom of the paper, allowing it to naturally start curling back up, and clenched his fist by his side. He then turned around, and cast his eyes across them all. "There has been a change in plan. We are no longer escorting the prisoners to Cyrodiil." Quiet whispers were cast between soldiers who were close enough to each other to talk. Had something happened? Was the missive directly from the Emperor? Were they needed elsewhere? "We shall instead be making our way to Helgen, where preparations are being put into place to… pass on judgement."

That particular phrasing, and the tension in his tone of voice conveyed to Aevra exactly what wasn't being said. She had no doubt that many other of her fellow soldiers also knew what was being implied. Her hands tightened around the reins of her horse as she took in a quiet but sharp inhale.

The prisoners were to be executed.

Silence hung heavy and thick over the group, until the General gave a brisk "as you were," to everyone, which set forth the bustle of unpacking any carts and wagons, checking over supplies, ensuring that the prisoners were moved somewhere secure for the night, and setting up tents to account for the camp exceeding capacity until they were ready to move on to Helgen.

Aevra quietly dismounted her horse, then reached into a small pack attached to the saddle to pull out a carrot to feed him before she took him to the camp stable for the night. She smiled and gently patted at his mane as he ate, before giving him a tired smile. "I wonder if you are aware of the part we have played in history over these past few days, boy…" She closed her eyes as she got yet another nicker in response, most likely a request to feed him the rest of the carrot over continuing her musing. She extended her hand out for him to get what he wanted, but continued nonetheless. "These old bones of mine have taken part in far too many 'once-in-a-lifetime' historic events already. What's one more, hm?"

The horse nuzzled at her after a few more moments of standing there, and she took that as a sign of needing to get moving. There were things to do, and she wasn't going to accomplish any of them if she were to remain stood still.

Just as she went to move, she heard a voice to her side.

"Soldier, before you go-" She paused as she looked at the General, who was now stood in her vicinity and looking directly at her, making her curious as to what he was wanting to say. In that brief, quiet moment, another soldier approached her, and quickly offered to take her horse off her hands as he took his own horse to the stables. As she handed over the reins, the General gave his orders. "I need you to go and get us some more firewood. I don't doubt that Legate Fasendil doesn't have enough for the extra numbers in the camp tonight. If we have none spare, chop some – and be quick about it. How you Nords can stand this cold, I have no idea..."

Nodding at her orders, having to stop herself from chuckling at his mumbling afterwards about the temperature which she was presumably not meant to have heard, she made her way over to where she knew the quartermaster to be holed up from her previous stint in the camp a few months back. He would know if there was enough wood, and would most certainly have an axe to spare if there wasn't.

A simple, menial job to get her mind off what was to come. There was nothing better. It would make the nice, warm meal afterwards all the more deserved.

[oakantony]

Horror Hisoillu for Spoopy Month

Here are some of my favorite bits of the horror short I'm writing for Patreon this month. You can sign up to read this story early, but it'll be on AO3 by the end of the month either way :)

An AU where the Zoldycks are aristocrats, not assassins:

Illumi moves into the once-abandoned room in the north wing of the Zoldyck manor and hears strange screams from the mountain’s peak each night. Sometimes, if he listens long enough, the sounds morph into unnatural laughter. But it’s nothing--the only things that lurk outside are foxes on a hunt. There’s nothing inhuman, calling for him, asking him to step into the dark.

Still, he steps.

Trigger warnings (from what I've written so far...) include cannibalism, monster fucking, shapeshifting cocks, sex during and after murder, canon-typical child abuse, and suicidal thoughts.

#

A fox, when cornered in a fight, has a voice that screams. It’s a horrible sound; like there’s a man out in the woods trapped in a dark, unfathomable horror. Like a man who can’t even speak out of his fear. Like a man that can do nothing but scream, scream, scream.

And the sound echoes. For miles, sometimes, if the wind catches it.

Illumi heard the sounds from his very first night inside his new room at the Zoldyck manor. It wasn’t a room he wanted--and the room, itself, seemed to share the sentiment. It had sat long abandoned in the north wing of their home, door closed, its few contents collecting a century’s worth of dust and spiders and rats. 

It was cleaned, of course, before Illumi moved in. His parents weren’t great providers, but they did employ an entire staff of butlers to keep their aristocratic children clean and fed.

Even with it prepared for his arrival, the room held onto a chill; the gray stone walls that rose fifteen feet into the air cared little for Illumi’s comfort, it seemed. Even after he lit a fire, heat seemed to whisper away, into nothingness, leaving him chilled and uncomfortable alone in his bed.

Alone--except for the sounds.

He could hear the foxes scream through his bedroom window--an enormous four-paned arch that was covered in a thick canopy of curtains. The sounds didn’t alarm him, at first, because he knew it had to be some animal in the woods. He searched it on his phone, after a time, and decided that yes--it was a fox. Maybe more than one.

But there was a small, unspoken part of him that thought there may be something unnatural out there. Screaming. The worst part was that sometimes--only sometimes--the scream would end in a laugh. A cackle. He ignored that part. 

#

The creature was upon him in a moment flat, before he could react, and he was thrown backwards, until he hit the tree hard enough to knock the air from his chest. He coughed, hands scrambling up to protect his face as the thing breathed hot, wet, bloody air against his skin.

“A hunter?” asked it.

“No,” said Illumi, his voice caught as he tried to get air into his body again. “I am from the manor.”

“A Zoldyck-k-k-k-ke-he-he he he he,” cackled the thing.

“Yes,” Illumi said. “You know of us.”

“Yes. We were fed one of you once. Sweet flesh.”

The horror that gripped Illumi could have made him spew sick all over the beast, if his body worked right. But instead, he continued to choke on air, and he shook his head. They had eaten a Zoldyck? When? Who?

Why?

“What are you,” Illumi asked, his chest burning for air.

“Foxes,” said the beast. It leaned in until its face touched the top of Illumi’s head and it breathed in, stirring his hair, and the thing shuddered. “Sweet smell. Sweet flesh. We’ll eat you tonight.”

Oh, how unfair. That he would die to a mysterious creature on some fall night; cold, away from a room he didn’t want, away from a family he didn’t love, on the land that didn’t belong to him.

#

The creature’s head rolled back and off its shoulders and into the earth below.

Illumi’s intake of air seemed stunningly loud to his ears. He stared forward until the other fox-beast stepped into his vision, front leg raised and pointed razor-sharp like the end of a sword. It had cut the thing’s head off.

The beast’s body finally collapsed away from Illumi, leaving him exposed to the moon, the air, and the one remaining…fox.

Its body cracked audibly as it morphed. Illumi couldn’t be sure he saw it right--some of the shapes were dark, shadowed, but after a moment, it looked more like a man than a beast. The limbs were still too long. He was at least seven feet tall, now. He--yes--he was naked, too. Illumi was too deeply shocked to react with more than a warming of his cheeks as the thing approached.

“Go home,” he said.

Illumi couldn’t move, at least not yet. But his mouth opened. “I--I do not understand.”

“I will eat on his flesh tonight. Not yours.”

“You eat your own?”

The fox-man’s head tilted curiously and a smile grew upon his angular lips. “You do not?”

“No.”

“But the humans taste so sweet. You don’t know?”

Illumi shook his head no this time.

“Do you want to know?”

Illumi paused. “You ask if I want to cannibalize other…people?” His heart leapt into his throat. “I don’t.”

A laugh erupted from the fox-man. “You do. You lie, but you do. You do wish to taste. You want to know if it’s as sweet as I say. It isss-s-s. Like ripened fruit. Like honey dripping from a hive--” He approached. 

As he got closer, Illumi could see his face with true clarity and the warm blush on his cheeks grew more intense. The fox-man was--severe-looking. Angular. Prominent cheekbones and glowing yellow eyes. And ruddy, red hair that fell against pale flesh. 

He was beautiful. His deep voice seemed to purr as he said, “Shall I feed you?”

[thebiggerbear]

Regarding I need your hand but I don't want to burn it.

I lost my dad to suicide in 2020 and this fic reminded me of him. I cried only once reading this (I started at the beginning and never stopped 😅)

This is now my favorite comfort fix. You were right. There was someone out there who needed his hugs, and I didn't want this masterpiece to go underappreciated. No pressure but do you know when p2 is coming out? Or if you have started writing it?

Oh, I'm so sorry!!! 🫂❤️ If you ever need anything, I'm here. I'm glad that this story was able to provide some comfort and some Beau hugs. ❤️

Awww thank you so much for the kind words!!! I don't have a date yet for part 2's posting but it is on my list as one of the things I'd like to get done in the next month. I do have most of part 2 written (and parts 3 & 4), but I will admit when it comes to the wake and funeral scenes, that seems to be where I'm struggling to put the finishing touches on the most. I'll admit, I think I've been avoiding it for that reason but I am going to force myself to push through it and get it done. I came up with this really nice and uplifting scene in the epilogue that was like a balm to my heart to write and I just have to keep that as my compass as I write the tough stuff, knowing that's what's waiting for me on the other end kind of.

Sorry, I don't know if that was much of an answer lol. So I'll just also include a small snippet of Part 2 that's also one of my favorite moments so far:

The server barely got out a greeting when Beau ordered beer and a burger. The young woman quickly jotted it down and then turned to you.

You gave her a small smile. “I’m okay, thanks.”

“What? No. Uh uh.” Beau shook his head and instructed your server, “She’ll have the same as me.”

When she turned back to you to see if that was okay, you kept your smile plastered in place. “I guess I’ll have the same thing.” She nodded and turned to leave until you held a hand up, stopping her. “Actually, can I also get some whiskey? Neat?”

“Sure. Coming right up,” the young blonde assured you. You gave her a nod of thanks.

Once she disappeared, you turned to find Beau studying you. He knew it was too early in the day for you to be drinking straight whiskey but thankfully, he didn’t mention it. “When was the last time you ate something?”

Surprisingly, you had to think about it. Was it yesterday afternoon? You couldn’t really remember right then. Another server had a tray of food he was carrying to a table not too far from yours, passing right by you. The smell of the food caused the most embarrassingly loud grumble to erupt from your stomach.

Beau’s brows arched. “That long, huh?”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, your cheeks heating slightly as you noticed the people seated at the table next to you staring.

He leaned forward and took your hand in his. “Nothing to apologize for.” You dropped your gaze to your joined hands. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Beau turned a pointed look on your neighbors who suddenly became very interested in their food. You watched as his thumb tenderly caressed the skin on top of your hand and you glanced up to find Beau’s soft gaze centered on you. “How are you holding up?”

This was part of the reason you hadn’t initially wanted Beau around for this, besides not wanting your two worlds to collide. Because you knew the moment you looked into his eyes and saw the deep concern staring back at you, you wouldn’t be able to lie.

You gave him a tiny shrug. “I’m not really sure,” you admitted, feeling the damn lump in your throat that just wouldn’t go away no matter how much you tried to force it to.

He nodded but remained silent, instead opting to squeeze your hand. You both stayed like that until your server deposited your drinks in front of you. You quickly thanked her and she hadn’t even gone a few feet before you drained half the glass of whiskey in one go, feeling the familiar burn travel down your throat to your stomach, lighting up the lower half of your body. And just like that, the edge you had been precariously perched on since landing back in this town disappeared, even if only for a minute or two.

You glanced over to find Beau’s eyes intent on you, his pint glass frozen in the air as if he had been attempting to clink glasses with you in a silent toast. You were apologetic, immediately regretting your rude behavior. “Sorry,” you mumbled. “I just…needed that.”

The corners of his lips tipped up in an understanding smile and he took a sip of his IPA. He gave a single nod of approval, licking his lips, before he set the glass down and picked up your hand, placing a gentle kiss to the side of it. The soft touch mixed with the whiskey burning your lower extremities shot a sudden bolt of lightning through your veins. You did your best to ignore it, though, and you definitely worked to keep the reaction off of your face. 

Beau’s sharp gaze was intent on you but all you could see staring back at you was compassion and concern. “Let’s get you fed and back to the hotel,” he murmured against your skin, his fingers lightly caressing your wrist.