#December

[phlebaswrites]

Snow and Speech

Summary:

Izuna knows what he wants.

But how does he get it?

Rating: Mature Fandom: Naruto Relationship: Uchiha Hikaku/Uchiha Izuna/Senju Tobirama Word Count: 982 (Complete)

Entry for Naruto Polyamory Appreciation 2022 @polyam-naruto​

Bells / Silent night

An impossibility is just a possibility you don't understand yet. — Matt Haig, A Boy Called Christmas

Izuna climbs the steps of the temple, using chakra in order to leave the snow undisturbed.

The night is cold and lonely, but the moon is bright enough for him to see where he's going, even without the Sharingan.

The water in the chōzubachi has frozen over, but a quick katon takes care of that and Izuna relishes the warmth as he washes his hands. The touch of water to his lips feels like the breath of the divine, and he lets it run out of his cupped palms with respect. The sound of his coin in the saisen-bako is hollow, expected since this shrine is not a popular one, but the bell chimes sweetly, echoing in the still mountain air.

Izuna bows and claps his hands, holding his wish in his mind as he invokes the gods.

Silence creeps back into the world but not his heart, for that is all too full of emotion.

Read the rest on AO3.

[astronomodome]

Could you do an eldritch pearlescentmoon or a fae pearlescentmoon, please? :3

how about a little of both? :3

[front-facing-pokemon]

[caramelcoffeeaddict]

A Boyfriend for Christmas [Klaine Fanfic]

Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel Characters: Blaine Anderson, Kurt Hummel, OC Finchel Child [also includes extremely brief appearances by Rachel Berry, Burt Hummel, Carole Hudson-Hummel, & Finn Hudson] Chapters: 15/15 [Complete] Word Count: 9,221 Rating: Teen&Up Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Christmas Fluff Summary: When Kurt takes his 6-year-old nephew, Caleb, to see Santa, he's mortified when Caleb asks Santa to give his Uncle Kurt a new boyfriend for Christmas; Blaine - who is working as one of Santa's helpers - however, is eager to help Caleb get his Christmas wish. Author Notes: Written for the December Klaine Fanworks Challenge hosted by @klaineadvent. all 21 daily word prompts were used to complete this story. Original Post Date: December 2023

READ ON AO3

[moregraceful]

.....15 works until time begins hits 50 works this year

[ladytauria]

to celebrate hitting 50k i'm sharing a snippet of the longfic i'm currently working on <3 (thank you v much to both @deepwithintheabyss and @paprikadotmp4 for the encouragement & brainstorming help <3)

still untitled (i've been calling it the "aob dubcon fic" lmao) but i have written a summary:

Jason tries to sell off his first heat to make ends meet for the upcoming winter. When he’s taken by traffickers instead, he’s sure that’s the end of him—until he’s rescued by a mysterious alpha. That “rescue” comes with a price: Jason’s heat hits shortly after, and… one thing leads to another, and now Jason and Tim are bound together by a fledgling mate bond. It’s not the first time Jason’s had to make the best of things, but… he finds it a little bit easier this time, especially as he grows to genuinely like Tim. Unfortunately, just as they're starting to settle into mated life, Tim’s ex-pack starts getting involved, and they don’t exactly approve of Tim’s choice in mate—never mind that it wasn’t really a choice at all.

cws/tags for this snippet: reverse robins, aob dynamics, underage jason (15), first aid, medical inaccuracies (probably; i'm not a doctor, so i'm warning to be safe), hurt/comfort, touch starvation, anxiety, allusions to captivity related ptsd, self-deprecation, brief memories of non-consensual touching

editing to add: this snippet takes place in the 2nd half of chapter 2 <3 (& was originally the second scene for the fic lol)

i have also previously shared a snippet of the scene after this, when jason's heat hits, here.

Tim parks outside of an old apartment building. The brick facade is worn, cracked and peeling in places. Most of the windows are intact at least, though; two of them have lights on, the rest dark.

Tim gets out first, already having rounded the car by the time Jason is swinging his legs out. His hand rests on the door, waiting patiently for Jason to join him on the sidewalk. Then he shuts it. One hand rests on Jason’s back again, a gentle guide inside.

There’s a man at the desk near the front entrance, reading a newspaper. He spares them a brief, bored glance before going back to it.

There’s an out of order sign on the elevator, so they have to take the stairs. It’s just two flights, but by the end, Jason’s slightly out of breath. He’d thought he was in pretty good shape, but—

He guesses spending nearly a week in a small, windowless room hasn’t done him any favors.

Tim stops at a door in the middle of the hall, unlocking it and letting Jason go in first. The main room is all one room; living room transitioning to kitchen, separated by an island counter. Tim guides Jason to the couch, directing him to sit while he gets the first aid kit.

The couch is worn but comfortable, cushions sinking under Jason’s weight, cradling him.

Tim disappears down the hall, and returns a few moments later holding the biggest first aid kit Jason has ever seen. Not that he’s really an expert on the things, but— The one at his house was pretty small.

And mostly empty, honestly.

The coffee table looks comically small under it. It makes Jason’s belly flip with nerves, remembering the feeling of latex covered hands on his body, spreading him open.

He bites his lip.

Tim doesn’t open it, though; instead, he slips into the kitchen. He comes back a moment later, holding a bottle of purple Gatorade. Then, he kneels in front of Jason. It’s—odd. Having an alpha kneel in front of him, voluntarily. Even though Jason knows he doesn’t exactly have any power here, the visual dissonance is—

Odd.

He offers up the bottle. It takes a moment for Jason’s hands to move, but he does take it. His fingers fumble with the cap; he flushed, embarrassed despite himself, but gets it open.

As soon as it touches his lips, his thirst hits him full force. He allows himself two large gulps to wet his throat, and then forces himself to slow down, sipping instead.

When he screws the cap back on, he finds Tim still there. Waiting. He twists his hands around the plastic nervously.

“Alright,” Tim says gently. “Other than the bruise on your side, and the rope burns… are you injured?”

Jason shakes his head, twisting the sleeves of the alpha’s jacket. “Nn-nn. Just some bruises,” he says softly. He pauses. “And, um. I did hit my head once. It still hurts, but— I’m not, like, dizzy or nothin’.”

Tim nods. “Alright,” he says. “I’d like to do a head injury evaluation anyway. I’ll just feel over your skull, and then use a penlight to evaluate your pupil dilation. I’ve got cream for the rope burns, and for the bruise—” Tim hesitates a moment, then continues, “I’ll need to check and make sure nothing is cracked, and there’s no internal bruising.” He pauses again. “As long as there’s nothing serious anywhere else… I have some painkillers you can take, when we eat.”

Jason takes a moment to absorb all of that, and then nods, tipping his head forward obediently.

There’s a part of him screaming at himself not to be so compliant. To kick and claw and scratch and bite and fight, the way he has been for the past week. But he’s— He’s so tired, and sore, and—

The alpha smells so good, and— The smiles he keeps giving Jason melt something inside of him. He wants to keep seeing them. Keep earning them.

Tomorrow that might scare him.

Tonight—

His eyes fall closed when Tim’s fingers slide into his curls. The touch is achingly gentle. It feels— It feels good. Nice. Jason can’t help but lean into it. He thinks Tim’s hands linger a little longer than they need to, like he’s indulging Jason’s obvious enjoyment of the touch.

He does pull away eventually. Jason bites back his whine, instead sitting back up against the cushions.

“No bumps,” Tim murmurs. He gets out the penlight next, and cups Jason’s face as he shines a light first in one eye, and then the other. Jason grimaces, hissing a little as he squints. The light aggravates his aching head. “Pupil dilation is normal.” He pockets the light, and strokes Jason’s cheek with his thumb before he pulls away. “Now, I need to check your bruises.”

Jason bites his lip again. The constant worrying is starting to make the top layer of skin break and flake under his teeth. He averts his eyes, rolling the sleeves of the suit jacket up, exposing his hands. Then he pulls his shirt up, bunching it up just beneath his breasts.

His stomach jumps when Tim touches him. Tim pauses, hand hesitating, just barely touching Jason’s skin, and then— He starts to rumble, low and deep.

Jason whines. He doesn’t mean to—but it bursts from him; he can’t stop it, can’t muffle it. It’s a soft, helpless little keen, and the alpha’s rumble gets louder in response. He scoots closer, until he’s between Jason’s knees. His hand settles onto Jason’s skin, curving around his side. His other hand comes to cup Jason’s shoulder, thumb rubbing gentle circles through his clothes.

“It’s alright,” he soothes, the rumble deepening his voice. The sound—

Jason has only vague memories of his father rumbling for him, from when he was much, much smaller. Before working as a henchman had stolen much of his father’s good will. Other than that, Jason has only ever heard alphas rumble on TV. It’s—

It’s a really nice sound.

Against his will, tears fill his eyes, and he raises his hand, pressing his palm over one, like he can force them back inside. Tim’s hand settles against his side, just underneath the bruising. “You’re alright,” the alpha murmurs. “It’s okay to cry, pup.”

Jason sniffs, loud in the quiet. “I—I—”

“Shh, puppy.” Tim’s hand doesn’t leave Jason as he rises, slipping onto the couch beside him. His other hand cups the back of Jason’s head, tugging him forward—Jason’s arms come up automatically, wrapping around Tim’s neck, his shirt falling back over his abdomen. The alpha’s scent drips with comfort and the promise of protection and Jason—

He feels… He feels warm, and safe, and—

A sob rattles through his chest. Tim holds him closer, tighter, his arm winding around Jason’s waist. He buries his nose in Jason’s curls, stroking his skin with his thumb as he rocks him, slowly.

Jason’s chest heaves. His whole body shakes with each sob, so much that Jason is worried he’s going to shake himself apart. Tim’s steady hold feels like all that’s keeping him together.

It’s not just the last few days, it’s— It’s everything, since his Mom got sick and Dad turned to working as henchman and their lives just… fell apart. He’s— Jason’s been on his own for so long. Longer even than he’s been on the streets. Every day has been a fight for survival and Jason—

Honestly, he thought he’d finally lost.

Tim murmurs in his ear. Jason can’t hear a word of what he’s saying, but the tone is low and gentle, and Jason clings to it.

It takes a long time for Jason’s sobs to subside. Jason— He doesn’t know how long exactly. But he does know that when he’s done he feels exhausted. He slumps into Tim’s chest, tremors still running down his spine. His face is sticky. He definitely got snot all over Tim’s nice shirt, and that—

He’s too tired to even worry about Tim’s reaction.

Fingers comb through his hair again, lightly scritching his scalp. He lets out a soft sigh, slumping even more against the alpha’s chest.

Tim hums. He noses at Jason’s temple; a gentle nudge Jason grumbles at. “C’mon, pup,” he murmurs. “I still need to look at your bruises.”

Jason whines—the same plaintive little puppy whine he used to give his mom when he wasn’t ready to get up yet, for one reason or another. It makes Tim huff, amused; the humor reflected in his scent. It’s nice. Really nice.

He noses at Jason’s temple again. “Pup.” His voice is a little more stern. It’s not threatening, though—doesn’t even make Jason’s hackles raise. Tim is still rumbling. Close as they are, it feels like it’s seeping into Jason’s bones. It lessens the ache in him. His skin— His skin has been itchy for years, but. The creepy crawling of it has subsided, for now at least.

He’s comfortable. Jason doesn’t want to move.

He does anyway, sitting back with a scowl on his face. It makes Tim smile—his scowl deepens.

“I’ll be quick,” Tim promises.

Jason huffs a little. He leans back against the couch cushions. Tim’s hand is still under his shirt, sliding back over to the injured side as Jason lifts it. He feels— He feels more settled now. Less nervous, though butterflies still flutter between his ribs.

Jason watched Tim’s fingers probe gently around the bruising. The purple has started to fade to a greenish hue, but it still hurts when he prods it. Jason’s quiet, pained noises are soothed with soft rumbles and fingers rubbing his shoulders.

When he’s done, Tim’s hand lingers, laying casually on his waist. Jason’s skin would normally be prickling, but—

It isn’t.

It hasn’t this whole time, any time the alpha touched him.

“I don’t feel any cracks or breaks. Did— Were there any injuries to your back?” He’s no longer rumbling.

Jason misses it already. There’s a part of him that wants to snuggle up to him, see if he can’t coax that rumble back out.

He ignores it; instead shaking his head. “No. They— The, um, the boss said they were supposed to keep me as uninjured as possible. Any punishment had to be careful not to leave a mark.”

Tim hums. He strokes Jason’s skin with his thumb, and then slips his hand from Jason’s waist. It—

Jason finds that he misses it.

Tim leans forward, finally opening the first aid kit. It’s stocked, full of things Jason has names for and things he doesn’t. Tim takes out two things: the first, a small jar, and the second, a bottle of puppy’s Tylenol. Jason—he doesn’t like it, but he can’t really argue with it. Not at his size and weight and everything. They’re pills, at least, and chewable too,

Jason examines them carefully before he takes them, washing away the chalky flavor with the drink he’d been given before.

Tim unscrews the lid of the jar. The cream inside smells herbal, though not unpleasantly so. Jason holds out his arm, relaxing into the couch as the alpha works the cream into his skin.

It’s easy to let his eyes fall half-lidded. Jason is warm and sleepy. The air is thick with protective alpha scent; it soothes his hind-brain, the part that is purely omega, purely pup and longing for the comfort and safety of pack.

A small voice in the back of his mind is screaming, telling him he needs to keep his guard up.

It’s easy to ignore like this. To focus on nothing but gentle hands on his skin and the ambient noise around him; the hum of electricity and the distant noise of outside traffic.

Jason drifts.

He barely registers when the alpha switches arms, coming back up only to croon confusedly when Tim stops touching him. He blinks up at him, and gets a kind smile in return.

“Hush, pup,” the alpha soothes. “I’m going to get us something to eat.”

Jason blinks slowly at him and hums in acknowledgment. Tim gets a blanket from—somewhere, and lays it over him. It’s soft. Jason likes it. He nuzzles into it, into more of the alpha’s scent, and sighs.

He can hear Tim moving around in the kitchen—the clatter of dishware and pans, the bubbling of boiling liquid, the sound of his soft footsteps. He can smell something savory—chicken, he thinks, and garlic.

He drifts again, stirring only when Tim nudges him gently. A steaming bowl of soup is pressed into his hands.

“It’s hot,” Tim warns, a bit unnecessarily.

Jason still burns his tongue on the first mouthful. He doesn’t care. Having the food in front of him has made him realize how ravenous he is. His bowl is empty far too soon, though he’s too stuffed to go back for seconds.

His empty bowl is taken from him, and then Tim returns again. “C’mon, pup,” he murmurs. “I’ve got a spare toothbrush you can use. A spare den, too. I’ll get you some nesting materials and pajamas while you brush your teeth.”

Jason reluctantly leaves the couch and blanket behind, shuffling down the hall and into the bathroom. Tim procures a toothbrush for him, and then leaves.

It’s a relief to brush his teeth.

His captors had done it for him, so rough his gums had bled and ached. They still bleed under Jason’s gentle ministrations, but at least it doesn’t hurt. By the time he’s rinsing his mouth, Tim has returned, a bundle in his arms. He offers it to Jason.

“Clothes,” he says, a little unnecessarily.

Jason takes them, and Tim leaves again, giving him privacy. Jason goes to shut the door and then—

Hesitates.

He doesn’t want it open. But— He doesn’t…

What if he shuts it, and it won’t open again?

He’s. He’s being silly.

There’s no way this apartment has more than one bathroom. Trapping Jason inside here would be dumb, and he doesn’t think this alpha is dumb.

Jason takes a deep breath. He shuts the door.

Except—

He doesn’t. The latch hits the frame and Jason stops. His heart thunders in his ears. His breaths come sharper, quicker. He can’t. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t.

Tears burn in his eyes.

It’s not fair.

He rests his head against the frame; one hand cradling the bundle of clothes to his chest, the other gripping the doorknob.

God. He’s so fucking pathetic.

He shudders. Takes a deep breath. It shakes on his exhale, a tremor in his chest. It’s fine. He doesn’t have to shut it all the way. He can leave it like this, with the metal latch over the door frame, only the tiniest sliver of hallway visible.

It’s fine.

He’s fine.

Jason strips quickly, clothes falling into a puddle at his feet. He yanks on the pants the alpha provided. They’re a little short at the ankle, and he has to draw the drawstrings all the way out for them to stay up, but. They fit well enough.

The shirt, too, is a little big, hanging off slightly at one shoulder. It doesn’t show his breasts, and hangs down to his mid-thigh, so Jason doesn’t mind.. Both pants and tee are soft on his skin, not scratching like the other set did.

There’s a hamper. Jason drops his old clothes in, though he’d much rather see them in a dumpster somewhere. The jacket—

Jason hadn’t realized how much it had been comforting him until now. Without it, he feels almost naked. Exposed. He wants to put it back on again. He resists the urge, though. Instead, he straightens it as best he can, then folds it in half and lays it on top of the hamper before he exits the bathroom.

Tim isn’t in the living room any more, and Jason stands, nibbling on his lip. Maybe he should go for the door… but. He can’t bring himself to. Instead he stands there, uselessly, until he hears rustling further down the hall.

He approaches tentatively, and finds Tim in the den at the end of the hall.

Tim glances up when he hears Jason approach, and smiles a little. “I was just getting out some nesting materials,” he says, gesturing.

In front of him is a cushioned nest base, held off the ground by a wooden frame. Piled on top of it is—

Jason had been expecting maybe a couple of blankets and some pillows, but—

The blankets are piled tall; the one on top Jason recognizes as the blanket he’d been using on the couch. There are plenty of pillows, too—and padding, for added layers, and cushions, and, it’s… It’s a lot.

Jason’s throat feels a little tight. “Thanks,” he says, voice small.

“Of course, pup,” Tim says gently. He’s pulled his scent in tight now, but when he draws nearer, Jason catches a whiff of safehere and everythingsokay drifting off of him. His hand moves slow enough it would be easy for Jason to avoid it, but. He stays still, letting the alpha brush his knuckles over his cheek.

“Goodnight, pup,” he murmurs. “If you need me, I’ll be just down the hall.”

Jason nods. The alpha’s hand drops, and then he leaves.

The rest of the den… It’s not bare, but it lacks a personal touch. There’s a chest of drawers in the corner closest to the closet; a nightstand by the nest; and curtains hanging over the window. He shuffles further in, leaving the door open behind him.

He leaves the nest alone for now. Instead—

He goes for the closet first, opening the door. It’s bare inside, except for a thin layer of dust. Jason shuts it again. He opens the drawers, as quietly as he can. Empty as well. The den smells— Not stale, it’s definitely been used before, but. He catches the barest hints of alpha scent, and other than that… It just smells clean.

Jason rubs at his eyes.

No more putting it off.

As much as he doesn’t want to… Jason doesn’t shut the door all the way. Instead, just like in the bathroom, he leaves it open the tiniest sliver. Anything more, and he won’t be able to sleep. Anything less—

Panic.

Even the thought makes his heart race.

Jason rubs his face. He hates this. He hates it so much. Fuck. Sometimes it feels like life is just out to get him. Like—someone or something out there wants him to suffer.

Stop it. Plenty of people have it worse than you do, he scolds himself. He’s safe right now, or— He has the illusion of safety, at least. The alpha is being nice. Jason is— He’s not bound up. The door isn’t locked. There are no bars on the window. Tim treated his injuries. Held him when he cried. Gave him food and something to drink and soft clothes.

And he’d given Jason plenty of material to make a nice, comfortable nest to den in. One that might finally satisfy the instincts that have been screaming at him.

Jason takes a breath, and pads over to the nest. The sheer amount of material before him is almost overwhelming, but… He goes through it slowly. He starts with the padding, layering it into the nest base and using the cushions to help give it shape. He tests it as he goes, until he has something that’s plush, but not so much that it will engulf him. He works a nest cover over it. It’s a bit of a struggle to get it on, but Jason manages; only a little winded by the end. What padding and cushions he didn’t use—

He decides to put them in the closet, where they’ll be out of the way.

Blankets next.

Jason sorts through the pile slowly, rubbing each on his cheek. Scenting them. The one he used on the couch is the strongest scented; still thick with the contentment he’d felt in the alpha’s arms, and the protective, comforting scent Tim had drenched the air with.

He ends up using a little over half of the blankets Tim provided. The rest he puts in the closet.

Pillows—

Jason doesn’t use as many of them. He ends up putting most of them in the closet. And then, finally—

His nest is done.

He stands back, surveying his handiwork. He trills with pride, running his hand over the edge. His nest is soft. Cozy. It needs— It needs books. And— His fox. He misses his fox, the one his mom gave him. He kept it— He managed to keep it safe, all this time.

It’s probably gone now. Or ruined.

His eyes sting, and he swipes at them roughly.

Jason is so tired of crying.

He climbs into bed, pulling the blankets over and around him, snuggling down into the pillows. It feels—

Safe.

There’s something missing, though. Jason— He’s not sure what it is, but—

He’ll worry about it in the morning.

[givethispromptatry]

Գլուխս մի՛ արդուկիր

"Stop ironing my head!"

From Armenia

Meaning: Stop annoying me

[plushie-lovey]

I want to make an October Plushie Photo Challenge! I've got some ideas but I need help coming up with more. Reply to this post or send me an ask with prompts you'd like to see!!

[icehearts]

-- day 7: learning ⚔️

"Clear your head. On the field it's only you and them. Nothing else matters, nothing else should matter." "Oh, sure. That's easy for you to say."

[lemony-snickers]

1 - Naruto / Kakashi Hatake

when the party's over - billie eilish.

Kakashi felt the hard wood of the the auditorium chair digging into his back and adjusted. It was dificult not to roll his eyes as families settled into their seats, turning to talk excitedly with one another about the show.

His eyes flitted to the decorations fixed to the front of the stage, the hand painted banner with "A Time to Remember" scrawled on the front.

Kakashi had never participated in a recital like this. Even in his youth, because of who his father was and what he did for a living, Kakashi's education in movement had been exceptional. Professional from the very start.

He had taken adult workshops instead of classes with children his own age, and he had featured in a few of his father's residency works before his death - had been taken under the wing of Sakumo's friends and contemporaries thereafter.

Kakashi was grateful he had never had to demean himself in such a way, wearing cheap costumes and trying to bend and break some artistic vision into a malformed box that suited A Time to Remember.

What did that even mean? What was it supposed to convey to the audience?

Kakashi huffed, rolled his neck from one side to the other to quell his irritation. An unfamiliar hand tapped him on the shoulder and he turned to look at the person attached, seated behind him, with only the thinnest veil of social politeness pulled over his natural expression of annoyance.

"Hi," a woman said, pointing toward the curtained stage with a hand-folded program printed on too-bright green paper, "who are you here to see?"

That was the questions, wasn't it? Becasue the person he was here for was not even performing, likely had done almost as few of these types of recitals as he had himself.

But Saya Tsunematsu was a peculiar thing, a person he still did not have a good read on, despite his proclivity for undrestanding people at a glance, in most cases.

The woman behind him, for example, leaning too close and hoping desperately he too was a single parent - something they could bond over before she inevitably asked him to help with some ridiculously small home repair project in a bid to finally seduce him.

"No one," he said flatly, turning to face the stage again. He heard the woman's half-shocked sound of confusion, felt the warmth of her hand as it crept toward his shoulder again before retreating. Kakashi closed his eyes, breathed through his nose. An hour and a half, one twenty minute intermission, and he could lay to rest whatever questions he had come here to answer.

Or, at least, if he didn't, he would forcibly bury them and move on. He had spent too much time already on trying to understand Saya; her determination to challenge him at every turn.

He had originally dismissed her when she auditioned for him with a piece of his father's choreography and she had snidely retorted that he was an egotistical fraud who could never live up to his father's legacy.

The remark had stung, the fear of inadequacy which Kakashi so easily pushed down most days writhing its way up his esophagus, curdling in his mouth.

Perhaps it had been a good thing - he'd never admit it - because it had forced Kakashi to truly think about the path he had set himself upon, the goals he wanted to achieve by reviving the White Fang Dance Company. To rewrite his childhood, to bring closure to a part of his past which had remained until recently an open, festering wound.

Saya had helped with that, had challenged him repeatedly as they reworked his father's choreography. He'd never met anyone who knew the movement as well as he did until Saya. It was strange, to find someone so devoted to Sakumo's work who had never known him.

The lights of the auditorium dimmed and Kakashi settled into the familiar darkness, the hush before the curtains pulled apart to reveal another hand-made (and similarly nonsensical) set piece - a backdrop painted with a mountain range in the distance, a field of flowers in the foreground; neither of which seemed to evoke a time to remember.

The first half of the recital was devoted mostly to the youngest children, few of whom knew their places or their steps, several of whom froze mid-stage, terrified of the lights and the sea of shadowed faces. One who cried, and three who tried to climb off the stage shouting, "Mama!" or "Papa!" with delight.

Kakashi had to forcibly unclench his jaw several times.

Intermission brought headache-inducing fluorescent lights and the opportunity to buy cookies and brownies and boxes of sugar water masquerading as juice in the hallway to support the dance studio's competitive endeavors. Kakashi purchased a single red carnation, unsure why except that it gave him something to do with his hands.

When he returned to his seat, the one behind him remained vacant and Kakashi wondered despite himself whether the woman had moved on his account or if her child was one of the young ones permitted to leave early so as not to miss their bedtime.

The second half of the recital was at least slightly more interesting. The children were older, more dedicated to their burgeoning craft. And while none of them danced to a professional level, several of them showed promise, and Kakashi found himself clapping a little louder, hoping it would encourage them to keep going.

And then, finally, the last piece of the night was all that remained. Kakashi straightened in his seat as a familiar person took the stage, standing in the center wearing a simple black dress and sensible heels.

"Good evening," Saya said, smiling, the long earring she wore catching the spotlight and reflecting it back in sharp refraction. "My name is Saya Tsunematsu and I'm a performer with the White Fang Dance Company."

Kakashi felt his pulse quicken a little at the mention, the acknowledgement that she was tied to him in some way. Professionally, of course.

"I am honored to have been invited to collaborate with some of the senior students on a piece for tonight's recital. When considering the theme A Time to Remember," Kakashi almost laughed but quickly converted it to a cough before anyone noticed, "I thought back to my own childhood, to the joy that dance brought every day, even when it hurt or when I didn't get the part I wanted and my parents listened to me cry the whole way home."

Several knowing chuckles erupted from the audience and Kakashi found himself, not for the first time, slightly jealous that Saya seemed so capable of connecting with the people around her, even if they could never attain her level of talent.

"I wanted this to be a truly collaborative effort and I'm so proud of the work these students have put forth to create this piece. I will admit, their choice of music was outside my usual realm, but that only made the challenge more fun for me, and - I hope - for them. Thank you and enjoy."

Applause followed Saya into the wings and the curtain pulled open again. A single performer stood on the darkened stage, wearing a loose sleeveless top and tightly fitted shorts, all a dull grey.

When the music began, it was a soft harmonic humming until a cracking voice joined.

Don't you know I'm no good for you?

The lights slowly came up, soft blue washing over the stage as the dancer at the center began a measured adaggio - as close to a hallmark of Saya's work as Kakashi had ever been able to pinpoint.

The girl's foot trailed from her ankle to her knee, and then higher - her thigh pulling tight to the side of her body as her foot extended overhead. Even Kakashi had to admire the control and flexibility the movement required. Her leg trembled only a little as she stared blankly forward, mouth parted slightly, hands soft at her sides.

I've learned to lose you can't afford to.

Her foot flexed but she remained otherwise still as two other dancers joined her, falling from the wings with a soft flourish, pulling at their shirts as if trying to escape their confines.

Tore my shirt to stop you bleeding.

More dancers, suddenly, running swiftly onto the stage as the dancer at the center released her leg extension and joined them in a cluster, disappearing as she melted back into the sea of grey; no longer alone, but no longer special, either.

The lights flashed from blue to red, the whole ensemble moving together as one entity - expanding and contracting, lifting up onto the toes of one foot, leaning preacriously to one side until they nearly toppled over.

But nothing ever stops you leaving.

They all tugged the shoulder of each other's shirts, appearing to try and stabalize one another before it became apparent they were trying to pull each other off balance.

Kakashi did not notice he was leaning forward, perched on the edge of the uncomfortable auditorium chair as he watched.

The cluster dispersed, dancers flying in every direction, some cascading to the floor while others leapt through the air, each face painted with an expression of anguish, remorse, fear.

They all stopped suddenly, swaying on their feet; turned away from each other, staring at the floor, solemn.

The lights cut out.

Quiet when I'm coming home and I'm on my own.

Bright yellow lights burst across the stage like the flashes of cameras, the music swelled.

One dancer fell to the floor, clambered forward from one knee to the other, rolling over each pointed foot, clutching their chest. Another fell on top, resting his head on their shoulder, wrapping his arms around them as if to cradle and reassure.

But the first dancer struggled against it, tried to pull themself free.

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that.

Kakashi watched as the piece evolved, as moments of sadness and anger were punctuated by joy, by love. The lights wavered back to blue, ripened to orange and then rotten purple.

Slowly, those better moments overwhelmed the others, quelled the upset and the regret and replaced them with exultation. The dancers saw one another struggle, helped one another overcome. Rather than separate and isolated, they moved together again, one dancer propping another up as they fell.

The music crescendoed.

Let's just let it go, let me let you go.

The first dancer took her place at center stage again, but this time, instead of alone, the others joined her, all sweeping their leg up, up, up. Some weren't as steady, some not as flexible.

They all smiled.

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that.

They flexed their feet as one as the music ended with a soft tinkling of piano keys.

The lights faded to nothing, darkness swallowed their beaming faces.

The audience erupted in applause, parents and friends and family all celebrating as the lights came back and the performers took their bows. Some in the crowd stood, many shouted. The dancers all laughed, giddy and pleased with themselves, as they beckoned Saya on stage to take one final bow with them.

Kakashi was the first to leave, the excitement of the crowd trailing behind him, falling quiet as the heavy door swung closed in his wake.

He smiled the entire way home, the carnation still clutched carefully between his fingers, and he finally understood why Saya did not find recitals or their preparation to be a waste of her time or talent.

[ell-arts]

Hey. Psst.

Sooo...if all goes well...

And the motivational drive lasts just a little bit longer-

Then ya'll are getting a new PMATGA oneshot fanfic from me.

Either this week or the week after.

Watch this space.

[lilbittymonster]

I know I don't actually need to apologise for this but I'm kinda sorry that I fell off the au ra august train it has just been a really uninspiring August and at this point I'd be better off saving energy for FFXIVWrite in a week.

I still have plans for a couple prompts but the rest.....eh. I'd rather just queue up old stuff that I know I love.

[powerful-niya]

Guess what, everyone? Naruhina Month 2023 is just around the corner – December, to be exact! Yay!!

I'm super excited to tell y'all that I've already kicked off on some seriously spicy prompts for this upcoming event. This event has provided some of the most amazing prompt ideas in my opinion and I've just been having a blast. I've picked only a handful to write, don't worry, I didn't go too overboard, haha! (⁠^⁠^⁠)

I remember last time. (⁠ ⁠≧⁠Д⁠≦⁠) **ehm ehm *Nhmonth22*

Also, so sorry I haven't been active or consistently communicating and such. I've been so busy with college, and busy preparing for this event.

Also, another thing! I have decided that all the NHmonth23 prompts I'll be writing will go straight into my "Kiss Me, Thrill Me" smut Naruhina collection.

Yup, so all of my prompts are gonna be hella steamy, so I hope you all are hype for that! ❤️

Now, back to it, I know I've still got some NHmonth22 prompts unfinished, and don't worry, I still to this day have vowed I will finish them. The prompts I had left and what I had planned for them DESERVES to be written out to completion, so I will after all of this is over. I can't turn my back on them. I just can't.

But I can say that I have decided to take a different approach with NHmonth23. I'm going to go in with a fresh start, new vibes, and just turn up the heat. Like wayyy up! 🔥

I believe I was a bit too formal when writing for NHmonth22, and that's understandable, since that was my very first time attending the event. Like the very FIRST time.

But this time, I'll be diving into this round with something different! Expect diverse themes, crazy shit, unexpected twists, and a smutty smut good time.

I'm truly in it to bring so much fun and excitement for the holiday season, and to bring some serious heat to your reading lists, hehe!

So, buckle up, folks! NHmonth23 is on its way, and I'm gonna go tough, haha! Stay tuned for more updates – it's gonna be a wild ride! ✨✨

✨Tumblr Links✨

NHMonth23: ☪️

••••

Creator Spotlight: Show some love and appreciation to your favorite Naruto creator(s) ❤️

••••

Gift Exchange: Exchange gifts in the Naruhina fandom! ✨

••••

[femininomen0n]

i’m so tired i could faint but i still have to do my calc homework 🫠

[banannabethchase]

Chocolate oranges and ClaudioMox

Chocolate Oranges

~

December prompt challenge day 29: Chocolate oranges

I...definitely Schrodingered this one. But it was fun!

~

“Gimme some.”

“No.”

Mox throws himself into Claudio, hoping it takes him off balance. It doesn’t. Stupid strong tree man. “Please?”

“What on earth would make you think I’d give you some of my chocolate orange after you tried to tackle me?” Claudio asks, an amused smile on his lips.

Mox grins up at him. “Because you love me.”

“I fail to see,” Claudio says, popping a slice into his mouth, “how that is relevant.”

Mox sighs and throws himself onto the bench. “Please?”

“I cannot believe you are still begging even when draped on the bench like a…” He trails off. “Is there a kinder word for slut in the English language?”

Mox glares at him. “How dare you.”

“Are we calling Mox a slut?” Yuta asks, flinging his belt over his shoulder. “That’s always fun.” He looks at Mox. “Why’re you a slut this time?”

“I hate both of you,” Mox says mildly, but he can acknowledge that he does look rather slutty with the way he’s splayed out on the bench. He ups it a little, spreading his legs and propping one leg up on the bench.

“Oh,” Yuta chuckles. “That’s why.”

“He won’t let me have one of his oranges!” Mox says. “I’m trying to, like, seduce him into giving me one.”

“Is this a sex joke?” Yuta asks. He’s seated in the corner, gently polishing his belt with his glasses wipes. “Orange slang for balls now or something?”

Mox points over to the counter next to Claudio. “Literal orange slices.”

Yuta blinks at him. “That is absolutely chocolate.”

Mox groans and sits up. “Chocolate orange slices – keep up, fuck.”

“Be nice,” Claudio demands.

“If I’m nice, will you give me a slice of your chocolate orange?”

Claudio shrugs. “Have you ever tried one, Yuta?”

Yuta shakes his head and glances over to Mox, a grin spreading over his lips. “Can I?”

“Of course,” Claudio says.

Mox watches in mild annoyance as Claudio gently places the chocolate on Yuta’s tongue. “How come he gets some?”

“Because he,” Claudio says, walking over to Mox. It’s always very unfair when he looms like this. Makes Mox feel tiny. Pretty much always gives him an automatic boner. “Asked nicely.” He grabs Mox’s jaw and tilts his head up. Yep. Automatic boner. “Do you know how to ask nicely?”

“No,” Yuta interjects around the chocolate melting in his mouth.

“Nobody asked you, young boy.”

“I’m the only one with a belt!” He slaps at Mox’s leg.

Mox kicks out and gets Yuta in the hip.

“Hey!” Yuta yelps. He chews the chocolate orange and dives at Mox, the two of them tumbling to the floor in a heap.

“Now neither of you are being nice,” Claudio says. He sets the chocolate orange down behind him, reaches down, and hauls Mox and Yuta to their feet.

Automatic boner enhanced.

Mox shrugs. “Well, in that case, I should have a chocolate orange piece, too.” He looks up at Claudio. “You gave him one and he was being a douchebag.”

“Retroactive douchebaggery,” Yuta says. “He can’t un-feed me the chocolate.”

Claudio raises an eyebrow. “You underestimate my alternate methods of providing consequences.”

“I’m not – whatever you said,” Mox says.

Claudio rolls his eyes. “Terrible, both of you.” He grabs a piece and hands it to Mox, who leans down. He picks it up with his lips.

“It tastes like orange,” Mox says, chewing slowly.

“Keep up, fuck,” Yuta says. His grin is cute. And fucking annoying. Mox is gonna have to fuck him about it later.

“Can I hit him now?” Mox asks. “The orange was good, though. Chocolate orange.”

Claudio rolls his eyes. “Why do I allow you two to behave like this?”

To Mox’s horror, he and Yuta both scoff and say, “Allow us. Yeah, right.”

[wigglebox]

Destiel Month - Day 6;

Trip (shopping!)