#ask box things you said

[jacksgreysays]

"things you said when we first met" from Things You Said prompts. Sasuke's POV of meeting (getting to know(?)) Shikako

Hi aryaokayfriend!

Hm… for this prompt, do you mean canon!DoS or an AU? Or a Gardens-verse Shikako meeting a different world’s Sasuke?

Because if it’s canon!DoS, that’s just when both of them are 6 years old and in the Academy for the first time and it’s probably not much more than hi, hello, my name is ____.

And maybe Sasuke was bubblier than his, you know, brooding antihero vibes that we have now. But I can’t imagine it’s too wild.

Unless this is a canon divergent AU in which the first thing that comes to Shikako’s mind to say to this soft, smiling 6 year old boy is that his entire family is soon going to be killed by his hero older brother because a creepy old man has weird self esteem issues, bloodlimit envy, and possibly a decades long unresolved crush on either his Uchiha-hating sensei or his Uchiha teammate.

Oops.

In WHICH CASE, that would be both horrifying and funny.

You know what… this COULD be an AU in which… well, maybe I’m in this specific headspace because of one of our previous exchanges and also yesterday’s post

But what if this is the Hail to the Queen: She Who Has Divine Right and it’s because since she could speak, she has been dropping “prophecies” about the future. Like. If it starts when she’s a toddler and she says something like “the Cloud ambassador is a ruse, they’re going to try to kidnap Hinata” to her father, the Jounin Commander, and if he takes it seriously—or at least, seriously enough to either let the Hyuuga know or to increase internal security/patrols—and then they actually DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT SUCH THAT HINATA ISN’T TRAUMATIZED, HIZASHI DOESN’T HAVE TO BE SACRIFICED FOR NO REASON AND THUS ALSO NEJI ISN’T TRAUMATIZED. Then, yeah--Congratulations, Shikaku, Your Daughter Is A Prophet.

So, okay, telling a 6 year old Sasuke that his entire family is soon going to be killed by his hero older brother because a creepy old man has weird self esteem issues, bloodlimit envy, and possibly a decades long unresolved crush on either his Uchiha-hating sensei or his Uchiha teammate ISN’T GREAT but, also, as long as you heed her words, things can be fixed.

I’m also just wondering how much of this AU becomes… like… well, she’s trapped herself into this role of prophet and it’s true that she knows A LOT of the future. But also, because things keep changing, she knows increasingly less.

You know what would help in making sure she can keep up with information? A spy network. You know who would make good spies? The grateful members of Konoha’s two powerful eye-based blood limits.

[daboyau]

I got an idea when looking at this post by @tangledinink. I couldn’t rest until I’d jotted it down. The art possessed me like an evil spirit. warnings for body horror, vomiting, general fuckery. 💚

what probably happened directly before Leo found himself in this situation:

Leo: Fairies? No way those sparkly little assholes are real.

The fae who happened to be within earshot: and i took that personally.

Anyway, here we gooooo:

Leo opens his mouth to scream, but the sound won’t come out. He gags on the feeling of it catching inside his throat, and then again when the trapped scream begins to grow thorns. It scrapes its way up, and he claws desperately at his throat, trying to tear the feeling out, falling to his knees as he gags around the forced silence.

The threat of suffocation is enough to tear his attention, however briefly, away from the horror of what is happening to his shell. His body is changing itself on the urging of some other thing’s whims, and even though his nerves didn’t seem to get the memo that a dissolving shell (you know, the thing that most of his internal organs and, like, half of his bones need to stay inside his body?) should probably hurt a lot, he can still feel it.

He retches as the first flower falls from his lips. It hits the ground with a disgustingly wet sound, coated with bile and saliva. It shines wetly, rich orange hues standing out brightly against the black soil. The rest follow shortly after, a painful deluge of familiar colors, and he’s helpless to do anything but dig his fingers deep into the rich soil and try not to let the horrific impossibility of the situation drive him crazy. Tears flow freely, staining his cheeks before they fall to the ground below, greedily absorbed by the cursed earth of this place.

“Oh, dear,” a voice says, too close for him not to have noticed their presence. He tries to jerk back, but he can’t pull his fingers from the dirt. It hurts when he tries. A high pitched whine escapes his throat, but he’s too terrified to be embarrassed by that. The voice shushes him, soothes him, and warm fingers wrap tight around the back of his neck. They come to rest just above where the lip of his shell should be. He sobs at the way his back squirms as heat shoots down his spine and something begins to grow. The furred fingers drag like velvet against his scales as they squeeze, the sharp prick of claws threatening to break skin, and then release him just as suddenly. 

“So much sorrow and pain. And, oh, so many regrets,” the thing says as she circles him, humming a tune that makes his head pound in rhythm with his racing heart. His hands have sunk beneath the black soil, and it has begun licking greedily at his wrists as well. He can feel tendrils of something wet and cold winding themselves around his fingers, and he wants to scream again, but the bursts of bile-soaked colors decorating the ground keep him from opening his mouth. He can feel a petal still clinging to his bottom lip, and when the thing kneels before him, she reaches out to pluck it off, unbothered by the way he shrinks as far away from her touch as he can manage.

She slips it between her lips, and he catches a flash of a blackened tongue as it darts out to meet that single purple petal. Her teeth are sharp when she smiles at him. They hadn’t been sharp, when she’d first approached him in the Hidden City. Nothing about her had been.

In the dim lights of the underground world he and his brothers had only recently begun to explore, she had looked soft. He’d seen her approaching, and the first thought to flit through his head was, aw, bunny. A fluffy, rounded face. Big eyes, dark and deep as a still pond as they reflected the flickering neon of a sign in the shop window behind him. A pink nose had twitched when she’d smiled at him, sweet and kind, and asked him for his name. 

(What had he told her?)

Now, she would be unrecognizable, if not for the same strawberry patterned dress that drapes over her stretched out frame. He’d think to compare her to a hare now, but the hares he’d seen when watching Animal Planet with mikey had never looked like they would take delight in tearing his nails off one by one or plucking out his eyeballs. They had never made his vision swim or his body shake when he’d looked at them. Maybe she’s become more of a wolf.

The soil has reached his elbows. Those cool, slimy tendrils have circled his wrists like shackles. They’re squeezing tighter and tighter, and he feels his fingers throb and tingle as circulation is cut off. 

His mind flashes briefly to raph and how he used to tell them not to wear rubber bands on their wrists, convinced that their hands would fall right off if they got squeezed too tight. He wonders if the things that live beneath the dirt will steal what they’ve claimed, just like she’s stollen his shell. Another sound wants to bubble up his throat at the thought, and he lets it, because what use is a swordsman without his hands?

The hysterical giggles escape as big, iridescent bubbles. They glitter pink and blue and leave a bitter taste on his tongue. They only float a few feet into the air before they fall back to the ground, their attempt to flee the horror of this situation not getting too far at all. Soft green grass rises up from the dirt to catch them, but they do not pop. They rest, suspended on those tiny blades, for far longer than any bubble he’s ever blown before. He watches, transfixed, as his laughter is eventually swallowed by green. It begins to spread.

A hand cradles his chin, and his gaze jerks back to the thing that brought him here. She is watching him intently, eyes darting to take in every tiny change in his expression. She looks curious, in the same way that donnie does when he’s thinking about all the ways he can take something apart, and what he can do with those pieces to create something better. 

Her hand is soft where it touches him. She is gentle as she wipes a cloth across his mouth. It feels like water, soothing and cool, and he finds himself leaning into this tiny offer of comfort among the stomach churning violation of what is being done to him. His eyes flutter, and he distantly registers that the face she wears seems to swim before his eyes with each rapid blink, shifting back and forth between bunny and wolf and something other. She looks like she wants to devour him whole, no matter which face she wears.

From this close, he can see the way her eyes sparkle and dance when she smiles. He can’t help but think that maybe being swallowed whole wouldn’t be such a bad way to go, after all. 

The writhing shackles around his wrists tighten. 

She laughs, breathy and soft, and the sound is layered and beautiful like wind chimes. It conjures a hurricane inside his mind. Her cool breath gusts over his face. It smells like churned dirt and funeral flowers and pustulous rot. He doesn’t know if he wants to gag or breathe deeper. 

“Little blossom,” she croons, cupping both his cheeks, dragging their faces close. He doesn’t resist. She giggles, and she drags those soft hands and those sharp claws down his neck and over his shoulders, fingertips bumping against the disgustinghorriblewrongparasitetumor gathering of delicate buds that have sprouted up all across his back. She pinches one between the pads of her fingers, and he wants to screamcrybeghertostoppushherawaycutherdownandtearthemalloutbytheroots be good for her.

“Little blossom,” she says again, and those dark eyes catch his gaze and hold it as a heavy feeling settles against his skin, across his shoulders, around his neck, and he can’t look away no matter how desperately he tries. But he doesn’t want to try. Her smile stretches wider, wider, and for one brief flicker of a second he can see blood on her teeth as she asks, “Do you believe now?”

.

(Side note just for fun. The flowers that appear in this but aren’t actually described or named are:

Orange marigold, for grief and despair

Purple hyacinth, for sorrow and asking for forgiveness

Red cyclamen, for goodbye and resignation

Yellow zinnia, for missing a friend and remembrance

Bluebells, for gratitude and everlasting love 

[rarilight]

one day I’m actually going to grab everything I went through last year and pour it into a raritwi breakup fic where they don’t get back together and I don’t do my usual thing where I hint there’s hope for them

And I think that will probably be a very emotional and good fic but also it’ll probably be incredibly crushing more than anything Ive ever done so honestly maybe we should all be grateful I haven’t written it yet

[shirogane-oushirou]

no promises anymoooooreeeee i'll appear online when i appear online 😭 every time i say "ooh i think life is almost done being overwhelming!" it. becomes even more overwhelming in the dumbest ways. all i can manage rn when i'm not stressing myself into a shut-down state is staring at the wall while listening to youtube essays + mindlessly crocheting.

i might queue up ppls art and fics w/o commentary in the tags... i want other ppl to see what all of my cool friends have made, but i genuinely can't think right now with this monstrous brain fog. i'm really sorry, just. yeah. maybe i'll think of some way to make it up later!!! once the dust has settled!!!! but until then i wuv u and miss u. smiles.

[venting in tags including familial manipulation and ableism. i. didn't mean to write all of that, thiss was originally going to be a main blog post but. aaaaaAAAAAA!!!!!

also no need for replies or anything, i'd turn them off for just the one post if i could kjsndkn, i just needed to get things out and go eep jsjndsfdn ok bye bye bye bye!!!!]

[hayaku14]

hello why is kaishin more popular than shinkai or what i mean is why bottom shinichi is like the most widely believed one? lol not really in the fandom just vaguely familiar with the anime from childhood it's just my mutuals likes this ship. i'd thought shinichi being the top would be more popular given his personality.

anon sorry for the late answer!!

imma be real honest with you, anon, i've loved the kidco dynamic since i was conan-sized but i only realized kaishin should be making out around 2021 so i don't know if i'm the best person to answer this question LOL BUT, i'll give you an answer!

tbh, i think for fandom shipping in general, the main character more often than not is the chosen bottom and whoever else is the other party is topping them. in japanese media especially, the ship names are mostly born from putting the kanji of their names together wherein the order of which indicates the seme and uke. since this happens early on, we kinda get stuck with that as the popular ship name whether you prefer the other way later on.

perhaps kaishin is more popular but not entirely by a lot compared to other ships where it's completely skewed to one side. i see a lot of shinkai too. ofc there are people who prefer one way over the other exclusively and that's completely fine!

personally, i think confining them into seme and uke or top and bottom does a great disservice to the kaishin dynamic because to me we should be looking at their sub-dom dynamic more and why they're actually peak switch sub and dom!!!!

that's fucking right kaishin is actually peak switch and i will die on this fucking hill!!!!!!!!!!

when you say shinichi would be the "obvious top," i'd like to assume in your heart you actually meant "the obvious dom" (LOL) but i think that could also apply to kaito.

i think the appeal of kaishin is the push and pull between them. the give and take. they're always trying to one-up each other. sometimes one pushes and the other gives way, sometimes it's the other way around.

i will be honest, perhaps switch pairings might just be my preference but I have never encountered a pairing that felt this completely equal in the switch department more than kaishin. like for other ships i'd sometimes be like, "yeah they switch but A is 70% more dom than B." But for kaishin I'm like, "oKAY THEY'RE 50/50 THEY'RE EQUALS THEY'RE PERFECT HALVES RAAAAAHHHH"

now how does this answer your question? well, i have no proof and im going off of vibes and like i said im no veteran in this ship fandom but, i think a lot of people do enjoy the other way around as you think it would've been. it's just that...it's something that can just be filed under the kaishin tag too. because it's basically the same sometimes. the only different thing is who's topping and bottoming. like sometimes i'm scrolling through twitter and i'd see art that's giving shinkai but it's tagged as kaishin and vice versa lol.

also personally i prefer calling them kaishin because i love the letter k and i associate the name shinkai more with makoto shinkai so every time i see people refer to kaishin as shinkai, my mind just conjures up an image of kaito, shinichi, and makoto shinkai together and i know that's fucking hilariously weird but it sometimes happens!!!! LMAO so even if i'm thinking about shinkai stuff, i still prefer using the name kaishin lol.

(but having the kaishin/shinkai distinction is definitely still useful especially for people who want to filter through one way or the other so fuck yeah to the ship name shinkai you're here to stay!!!)

anyway in conclusion, top shinichi is popular too dw lol, or maybe i should say bottom kaito is popular too lol i see yalls

also sorry that this answer is not only late but also a whole essay that doesn't even straightforwardly answer your question lol my bad anon

[sp0o0kylights]

why the deep sigh before saying you’re a natural redhead lol

Several reasons!

For context this is in response to my answer in the "rb in the tags what would be the physical feature used to identify you in fanfiction of you if you were a fictional character" post a few days ago and the TL;DR is the redheads get stereotyped in specific ways I hate.

Large ass rant below (hey you asked lol)

For a lot of people, redheaded women are a fetish. ( When I was younger, I had people date me who later stated they just wanted to cross off dating a redhead, they didn't actually want a relationship, and my personal favorite, that they would never date someone who "wasn't skinny" but made an exception bc I'm a redhead. I've been offered a LOT of sex and a LOT of threesomes, because I'm a bucket list item and they will say so, to my face, in person. Like many things in life, there's a line between a preference or appreciation or even a "type" --and a fetish. The later being an issue because you're no longer seen as a person but an object, and people will make that creepily, disgustingly clear.

2. It's a stereotyped personality. Redhead's are crazy/hot tempered/insane (see: that one dude from Fruits Basket and I cant even pick a female character theres so fucking many) crazy in bed (one example among hundreds is We're the Millers "Eh she's a redhead there's a 50/50 chance she'd be into it") Soulless (I actually used that one to get through High School by insisting I was collecting souls to pay for my fire-lake front mansion, shouts out to South Park lmao), and many more. The redheaded step-child, the vixen, the other women, etc.

I have had my hair color come up in job interviews, with teachers, with coaches or trainers and even in situations as a kid where I was essentially asked "Hello kid I just met, you're a redhead, are you going to behave for me?" Related, my parents got a LOT of praise because I was quiet. Throughout my life the most common "praise" I have received is that I am "not a typical redhead" bc I am "calm."

You still see a lot of this bleed into fanfiction, but you used to REALLY see it bleed into fanfiction lol.

Addendum to both points above--the fetish, hot, good in bed thing typically only applies to conventionally attractive women.

Redheaded men are "ugly", and if you don't fit into the current but ever changing Socially Acceptable Hot Chick Look, then you're in for it. This includes weight, skin color/tone, freckles, type of hair, fuckin' eye color sometimes, the list goes on.

I vaguely recall someone who was doing a media study about how the male "problem child" in media is typically portrayed as a redhead. off the top of my head, the kid from Malcom in the Middle and the kid from the magic school bus.)

And that's just the cis shit.

3. People in general get weird about my hair. A lot of strangers enjoy touching it without asking, or otherwise felt ownership over it if I had parts of it dyed, etc. I legitimately had people get super upset the time I dyed it black. Hell I had STRANGERS get upset. People I never met in my life who were making small talk in the check out line, absolutely FURIOUS with me about dying it black, because they asked me what my natural hair color was and I answered honestly.

4. If you're over the age of, ehhhh, 25? 27? You probably remember the age of fanfic where we described EVERYONE by their hair color lmao. Redhead was right up there with bluenette. It was painful and that post reminded me of it.

[moshieee]

Surprise!

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You have found. . .

A decently sized box inside your inbox. It seems to be a present of some sort

There is a little folded paper that says: “To Moshieee From GlitchyK”

When you open it up, it has a small drawing/doodle/outline of QOTR Pomni, the text says.

“Hey Moshieee, I know I didn’t need to get you anything, and it’s somewhat random, but I figured I would!”

Ps: “Totally not why I asked for your favorite tadc character so I could draw it in the AU you inspired me to make… totally…”

You choose to. . .

Open the box

Save it for later

Don’t open at all

Send back

Oh this is darling thank you this is such a kind gesture and I love the drawing

It still surprises me that I managed to inspire someone to make an au...

I think a gift is just what I need after my last class

(I would love to open the box)

[bluastro-yellow]

get it Kim has a lot to unpack do you get it

it's imperfect I'll never polish it just take it as it is I should have put aerostatics not airplanes...

[ratatatastic]

scare the hoes more and keep yapping about ekky (& others) getting used to maffhew, it delights me. and say even more about how sasha handles this feral and sweet omega that gets dropped into his orbit. smth smth “feels like i’ve known him 10 years” or whatever vows sasha recited to the press, cameras, and god

apparently we are taking more tumblr user ratatatastic abo yap thoughts for 500 may god hear our screams up wherever he is. big man in the sky you fuckin owe me one.

i think theres so much in particular to say in concerns of 1619 and how quickly they gelled irl but even more so in an abo au

ive always enjoyed when people assign matthew stronger scents that take getting used to if you don't like it already and i know ive read a fic where his scent notes did skew towards stronger cinnamon foods/drinks

anyways on that note it wouldnt surprise me that sasha takes so easy to this spicy little omega.

Like of course he does, he smells like the pastries he used to eat back at home, the pastries he eats now because he's found an established Finnish bakery down here that makes them homemade every morning, the bakery he likes to frequent with the other Finns when he can.

Is it ever a wonder that the cute omega that sent him such a terribly sweet text when the trade news broke out (you know, after the initial excitement worn off because Sasha does chuckle at memory of the brash "Fucking, right!" that pinged on his phone the very first time from an unknown number) smells like... home... No matter all the rumours that have swirled around Matthew, the rumours Sasha has personally experienced himself playing against him...he smells nostalgic. Like Sasha could be at home right now—you know, home home—lounging outside his cottage with tea and pastries on the little table that he's set out. The warm cinnamon that wafts from the typically sterile room they've assigned for pressers smells divine, for lack of a better word. It smells indulgent. Because Sasha can't have those homely pastries all the time, what, with his training regiment.

It's why he doesn't quite believe it that Matthew's the one that's the centre of it all. He's absolutely convinced he's hallucinating because the season is about to start and he's had to cut back on all his favourite sweets as much as it pains him to but for the betterment of the team? He'd do anything. And yet despite the way he rubs at his nose to at least try to clear it, he smells that cinnamon. That cinnamon that's definitely coming from new omega they traded over who's laughing so obnoxiously at the lectern they have set up that if his scent didn't catch your attention, his loud mannerisms certainly did. His voice is practically bouncing off the walls in big loud echoes that should hurt Sasha’s ears. Emphasis on should. As it is he finds his heart melting more than it should instead.

It's been quite a long time since someone's scent has moved him this much. All the people that have, have been in his life for so long he's forgotten what it's like to feel instant scent compatibility. His nostrils are flaring and he's trying his best not to open his mouth to huff in big gulps of it because it's rather impolite to be so obviously scenting the new guy. It could be misconstrued as Sasha taking offence to the new presence in the room.

Some part of his brain is still trying to catch up to the idea that Matthew even smells at all because the first time he met him (down here for some joint offseason ice-time) he didn't particularly smell like much, if at all really. Whether it's because he put on blockers to not intrude on pack territory until he smelled more like them, or he was still on suppressants even in the summer, Sasha wasn't sure and he definitely wasn't going to ask about it.

Known him for 10 years? He feels like he's known him his whole life. But 10's a safe number, 10's a number that won't scare off this new omega, right? 10's a number that conveys "As Captain I want this to work out, I'm opening up my pack for you, I won't shun you, you're welcome here," and not "If I stick my nose in your neck right now to scent you, they're gonna have to forcibly evict me from the new home I've found in you, and it's not gonna be a pretty outcome."

It's also why he's a little nervous when Media Day is over because despite how much it dragged along in years past it practically blitzed by and now Sasha has to—

You know, properly scent the new addition. Give them the purring acceptance of their Pack leader's scent to carry with them. And it's nothing big, it's just some chaste wrist rubbing... something subtle and not too overwhelming for everyone: the pack, and the newcomer alike. It's not like Sasha is going to mouth at Matthew's neck glands. He doesn't think he can even handle that right now but that's a problem for future Sasha—for when Matthew is really part of the pack and not like a goldfish in a plastic bag being dunked into an aquarium to get used to the water temperature. He just has to rub his wrist against his, it's like basic Alpha etiquette. It'll be fine, mostly. He hopes.

And it's as anticlimactic as he thought it'd be: gentle reintroductions and reignited chatter of excitement about the new season that's about to start... maybe just with the new lingering scent of sweet and spice in the background as if someone lit up a candle without Sasha even noticing it. It's a struggle to keep his eyes from closing from how heavy they feel, from how relaxed he feels in the presence of this new omega he knows has pissed him off on several occasions as composed as he was about it.

Matthew presents his wrist in a flourish successfully managing to divert his attention back to what they're supposed to be doing all alone like this in the dressing room like this, "I'm sure you've been dying to do this huh, Cap?"

Sweat starts to break out at the back of his neck. He knows? Sasha doesn't think he's been sending off any signals that could've hinted otherwise but Sasha admits that he's well out of practise, he hasn't had to reign in his scent this much in such a long time, and maybe Matthew picked up his weird fixation—

Matthew waggles his eyebrows for extra effect an offbeat later when the joke doesn't seem to land the way he wanted it to.

Oh, thank Christ, he's just teasing him. It's a joke. He doesn't actually mean it in the way Sasha thought he meant.

"Yes. Yes, I have," Sasha chuckles in relief, shaking his head at Matthew's attempt to lighten the mood.

"10 years, or so I've heard, bud."

"You heard? Uh, listened to the..." he trails off.

"Kinda hard not to when the setup made it sound like you were in the middle of the Earth, my guy. I don't think my ears are ever gonna recover from that."

"It's the first day for everyone," Sasha lightly chastises, not particularly aggrieved at all but wanting to keep up the banter to stall for time, so he can prepare himself. Quite honestly he feels like travelled back in time to the young anxious Alpha he was breaking out into the league for the first time.

"Be gentle, I bruise easily."

"Right, gentle. I'll treat you better than my clothes on the delicate cycle."

"Is that supposed to be a line?" Matthew says in glee, his voice pitching into incredulity.

"Line like fishing?"

"Oh, come on! You know what I'm talking about! You've been in this country long enough to pick up on that!"

"Yes, yes, that."

Matthew shoves at his shoulder playfully. "Just go on and do the thing already."

"Doing the thing."

Matthew snorts but his wrist is limp in Sasha’s hold. And as much as it was a dumb joke he does feel delicate between his fingers like that. So delicate that when he rubs his own wrist against his—to transfer over their pack scent—he feels like he's going to break it if he holds onto it for too long. It's why he drops it as quick as he took it, hands scrambling to his sides in an effort to remain polite but also to get a handle on himself so his pheromones don't go haywire with the new stimulus. It's a bit of a losing battle because he knows his scent just. But he can play it off as the excitement of an Alpha being able to claim another member to his pack, it's a possessive kind of thing.

"Well, see you around! Call it a hunch but I have a feeling we'll be seeing more of each other." And the joke wasn't funny the first time, truly the equivalent of leaning on the office fax machine and going "You come here often?" to your coworkers who just want to get their work done—and just as sleazy too with the greasy grin Matthew has permanently stuck to his face but Sasha still laughs like he did the first time he heard it.

And it's only now that Matthew is gone that Sasha realises the room smells strongly of cinnamon, so potent that anyone with a working nose would be able to tell that. Like Matthew was doing his best to ease Sasha’s obvious nerves when Sasha should've been the one to calm the omega who's been uprooted from their own pack and thrown into a completely new environment, himself.

"Jesus, it reeks in here. Smells like cinnamon," Aaron wrinkles his nose, wandering back in after his own media duties were done, finding Sasha all alone in the locker rooms.

"It does?" Like he can't tell the room smells like the equivalent of someone knocking over a Yankee Candle into an open fire.

"Yeah, like an awful lot." Aaron scrunching up his nose, trying to fight off an incoming sneeze. "It's strong," he says without thinking, swallows before his eyes shift over to Sasha and then to the floor, "Not bad just... strong..." The I can get used to it is left unspoken between them.

"I like it," Sasha admits because if Aaron is confessing to things without thinking then he might as well too. They've known each other long enough.

"I can tell." Aaron snorts, "You reek too."

Sasha lets out a questioning little noise, tilts his head to the side as he silently urges Aaron to continue.

"You have no idea what cinnamon and cardamom smell like together, do you? I feel like I walked into a bakery when I should be at the gym right now."

"Is that bad?"

"For you? No, of course not," Aaron's eyes soften, and while his scent wasn't anywhere close to abrasive, it does lighten up just a tad bit in the presence of his pack Alpha. "For me? I'd rather dunk my head in a bucket of coffee beans." A bit of an exaggeration on Aaron's part but the wry grin he has on really adds to the fact he's just joking—just a little, maybe there's some truth hidden in there. He knows how Aaron is, the way he tries to downplay anytime he bristles about something. Peace and vibes, and all that.

So Sasha can joke as well, "Forsy's stall is over there," and motions his head towards it across the room.

"Oh, hilarious."

"If I was funny I would say jock."

"You know, what? I think I will hit the gym today, thanks for reminding me."

"Mmm, anytime." And when Aaron's half out the door he adds, "Ask the staff where they put the jerseys we used today!"

"I'm going! To the gym!" he echoes back, not bothering to turn around as he shuffles down the hall in a hurry, and decidedly not going in the direction of the gym. It's not surprising when he hears chatter pick up and shoes scuffing briskly into the direction of the laundry rooms.

[jacksgreysays]

ooooh glad to see your requests are open again!! how about- "things you said that i wasn't meant to hear" for shikako and kakashi?

Oooh, anon, the first thing that came to my mind with this prompt was pretty mean. Like… I’m going to explain what it was after, but I think it might be TOO mean to actually write in full:

---

Naruto is the one to go through the pictures, of course, the colors faded with age; but the bright blue of his father’s eyes and deep red of his mother’s hair still visible. He presses uncharacteristically gentle hands against the worn fabric of a light pink kitchen apron, a jacket with bold patterns around the red Uzumaki spiral, an unused baby blanket with his name embroidered on it. The soft sentimental things, remnants of a family that should have been, this is what Naruto focuses on as he finally, belatedly, goes through the inheritance that should have been his all along.

Kakashi says nothing, turns away so as to give his student a small amount of privacy, but does not leave him. Not this time.

Down the hall, his other students are focused instead on the more practical items: Weapons and armor. Storage scrolls—some of which are labeled, but the majority of which are not. Fuinjutsu research notes both in Minato-sensei’s slanted chicken scratch and Kushina-san’s looping, cresting hand.

“This is fine,” he hears Sasuke say, no doubt using his Sharingan to pick up any hidden, lingering security techniques. “Something’s weird about that shelf, we should skip it for now.”

“Look at all of this,” Shikako’s words are followed by the rapid rustling of paper. “This is beyond ingenious, this is… this is impossible.”

The part of Kakashi that isn’t constantly grieving feels second hand pride on behalf of his mentor.

“You do the impossible all the time,” Sasuke’s response is somehow flat yet still conveys exasperation.

“Not like this,” she says, her tone absolutely certain, not just the usual flavor of humility and self-doubt. “I can’t even imagine… to have been able to learn from either of them—from both of them?—I would have been able to do so much.”

Sasuke says something after that, but the words don’t make it through to Kakashi. The constantly grieving part of him rises swiftly as guilt, flooding his ears with white noise. Because he knows Shikako would never imply it, but he can hear it anyway:

Had she been Minato-sensei’s student, had she been the child practically adopted by Kushina-san through force of will alone, had she been there, then, if it had been her…

She would have been able to do so much better than Kakashi did.

—

Okay, it’s pretty short and I took a lot of the sting out of it, but the original idea was basically going to JUST be Shikako and Kakashi going through some of Minato’s old fuinjutsu notes and then Shikako kind of accidentally implying that had Kakashi bothered to learn under Konoha’s, perhaps, greatest fuinjutsu master (I think Minato apparently perfected a lot of things Tobirama only had protoypes for?) then a lot of tragedies, both personal and public, wouldn’t have happened or been as bad. I think the meanest one that came to me was that Rin wouldn’t have died since Minato had been working on a way to temporarily transfer a jinchuuriki seal from a person onto an item—probably in preparation for Naruto’s birth—such that they both could have made it home to Konoha where then the actual sealing masters could fix the seal on Rin which, uhhhhh, so sorry Kakashi T_T

There were other things like—a student of a sealing master (especially one that had Sharingan) would have noticed and been able to tweak or remove ROOT seals or find Orochimaru’s fucked up laboratories, etc. etc.

Just me bullying Kakashi, the saddest string bean in the world.

But at least I made it a little nicer? Oof, soooo sorry, anon, I can’t really think of anything else that is as meanly compelling as this.

[grumfield]

it’s insane how disgusting some 2ha fans are. proshitter rape apologists like you need to all stay far away from chu wanning … …

damn so does chu wanning have to stay away from himself or…

[bleaksqueak]

I haven't posted any fresh WIPs in a bit... it's sad because I really, really want to! The pages I've been working on have some of my favorite drawings of the characters so far, but every single panel of those feels like something I can't share early. Boo urns. Also, apologies. I know I've been a bit quiet between page postings. The month hasn't been quite as Good as I was going into it hoping lol but I've been cooking up some fun stuff for all of you! And if you sent me asks that I still haven't answered, I *will* get to them, I promise. Some are easier to answer than others when my brain is tired from all that cooking (There's asks about funerals and weddings that I've been both really itching to get to... and wondering how much info I should give, bc these are world building topics that have been fairly built upon behind the scenes already lol. Another fun ask about Magic Staves that I want to answer soon as I've not been using my brain hardcore all day.) But! as always, seems we will keep up the bargain of "Send me just the Right Ask and you may get a sketch answer for it" since I already answered a few others with doodles ♪♫ ♪

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

they fucking missed an opportunity to have 13 come out as gay by the tardis didnt they

[corrodedcoughin]

okay so your trans art binge-reblog spree yesterday kinda synced up with me having Intense Gender Feels so please allow me the liberty of gently knocking at your inbox again bc I feel a mighty need to unleash some trans!Eddie headcanons on you >.>

imagine the sheer emancipation of Eddie growing out his hair again after he had cut it short when first moving in with Wayne but this time long hair feels different and so, so much freeing bc it's no longer a stupid social expectation rooted in sth that isn't even true about him but instead a personal choice, one deeply connected with the music that comforts and inspires him like nothing else

imagine the freedom of him first realizing he's trans and how things — maybe not all things but at least some of them — suddenly fell into place from just knowing who he is, even if back then he had no opportunity and no safe place to as much as think about trying to socially transition. just feeling like his authentic self for once, without the weight of others' preconceptions about all the arbitrary ways he's supposed to be. he might've been unable to tell anyone at that time but simply having that knowledge to himself was liberating from the years of having felt like there's sth wrong with him. liberating bc now he knew for a fact that there wasn't. how can this be wrong if it made him feel like himself for the first time maybe ever?

imagine him hesitantly knocking on his uncle's door in the middle of the night when he had no choice but to run away from home. imagine the surprise on Wayne's face and all the unyielding unquestioning trust and comfort he's got for him, so thorough and genuine that it only takes him a few days to come out despite the fear. and then Wayne's silence breaks into a question of what name his nephew would like to called then. the words startling soon-to-be-Eddie into a impulsive hug, which is returned with utmost care and with quiet thinking-out-loud rambling of whether Wayne's got any clothes that would fit his nephew and that he would feel comfortable in

imagine the joy when Eddie gets a fake ID from Reefer Rick one day

imagine him making friends with the rest of Corroded Coffin guys and, when he gathers the courage and trust to come out, being met with support, ranging from confusion and a promise to eventually get how any of it works and to respect Eddie's pronouns etc, to deep understanding that hardly needs words bc you know you're being seen for who you actually are

imagine Eddie working on his voice and ending up achieving some success partly thanks to singing along to his favorite songs and trying to learn harsh metal vocals and at first scaring everyone around by going over the top with them until he figures out ways to train his voice to be more masculine sounding without resorting to that kind of harshness (and developing multiple fun vocal stims on the way)

imagine Eddie getting together with Steve and as a bonus gaining the perfect person to get advice from when it comes to figuring out a workout routine for his purposes

imagine the relief of knowing there are multiple people who you can be your authentic self with and who love you for this and would never change a single thing about what makes you yourself

oof well, I kinda carried away "a bit" (meanwhile the Feels have only intensified further whoops) and these are in no particular order but I really hope you'll like this humble offering. have a restful fulfilling weekend💜

LIAM!!!! LIAM!!!!! I am always ready for transing the narrative (been in some gender struggles too so let’s be in this together 🤝) I’m going to be running commentary replying so if it’s incoherent or accidentally cover something said later I’m sorry!!

- the hair!! YES!!! I feel like he had long hair before and felt pushed into have short hair in order to be taken seriously in his identity but what he always really wanted to be was ‘just a boy with long hair’ and the more it grows the happier he gets becuase THIS!! THIS!!! Is who he feels like he should have always been!!! This feel RIGHT! When it gets past the length of being ‘acceptable’ for a boy and starts brushing his shoulders he hasn’t never felt more strongly that he is Right. That this is Who He Is, this is Eddie Munson and Eddie Munson is a societal expectation-dodging BOY

- THE ACCEPTANCE AND REALISATION!!! What if he was going around as a child saying kid stuff like ‘when will I grow a beard?’ And being hushed by his elders (before Wayne). Going along with what was given to him, be it toys or clothes because his family didn’t have a lot so he’s not going to ask for more but knowing that they didn’t feel right. That he was performing a character for these people and hoping it would be enough for them, for himself. It’s not, something still feels wrong and he can’t figure out. But then, then he gets the keys to the kingdom, he moves in with Wayne and Wayne gives him some money and sets him loose in the thrift shop. At the start he sifts through the girl’s rails but all of the sizes are wrong for him. So wayne just suggests the boys racks because hey it’s just T-shirts and we need to get you stuff that fits. He guides eddie to the plain T-shirts, not thinking much of it. Not thinking it’ll be a Realisation in the young mind of his nephew. Eddie goes home with 2 boys T-shirts that day and from then on gravitates to exclusively wearing them. Next thrift shop visit eddie makes a beeline to the boys section and doesn’t look back.

- AHHH WAYNE AND COMING OUT I LOVE YOUR VERSION!!! What about Wayne passing a couple of shirts on to Eddie? A hat too? And a belt because god knows Eddie’s buying the jeans that hide his hips and needs something to hold them up. Wayne starts calling eddie ‘son’ and ‘boy’. Every time it’s like Christmas lights have been turned on behind his eyes. He feels dizzy with it, can’t contain himself, has to clench his fists to stop himself from shaking becuase this? This feels right. It fees Correct and knowing Wayne is here with him is the ballast he needs to secure himself on this unpredictable ride.

-CORRODED COFFIN SAYING ITS SO METAL OF HIM. (I personally also hc Gareth as trans so I like to think that Jeff and Freak are always ready to be Boys and show them Boy Stuff. Like alongside band practice they had Boy Practice at the start and now they can burp the alphabet in harmony and can armpit fart guitar solos and play fight and are just GOOFY)

- eddie going to a gig or band practice and then the next morning waking up with a slightly wrecked voice that he /loves/. He surreptitiously tries to maintain it, shouting lyrics in his room and just screaming sometimes but it starts to get painful and he accepts he has to find a different way. He listens to the radio with Wayne, asks to go with him when Wayne’s work friends plan a couple of drinks in one of their yards. Eddie gets to go to a couple, gets to listen to Wayne’s country and rock radio stations. Gets to hear these men talking and tries out phrases he hears when he’s on his own, records them on a tape deck he found in the thrift by luck one day. Records and re-records until he gets it right. Until he can prank call principle Higgins and get shouted at down the phone ‘I’ll find out who your father is boy! He’ll have your hide!’ The peak is when he goes into scoops and gets everything he wanted ‘hey man, how’s it going?’ From the offensively cute sailor with the big hands and strawberry sweet smile

- WORKOUT SUPPORT STEVE. YES. YES ABSOLUTELY!!! Steve showing him that he can’t just hit upper body every day, that he has to get everywhere. That he needs to make his core thicker if he wants that boy look. That working on his quads and calves will help, he promises it won’t leave him a big butt and tiny waist. (Not unless he wants Steve’s routine, that boy is going to work on his ass-ets okay?) eddie doing his first full push up with Proper Form and feeling the muscles in his back move and thinks yes. This is Good. God knows he’s not great at sticking to it but when it serves a purpose and it means he gets to ogle his boyfriend? Kind of a win win

- TBE LAST POINT!!! Yes!!! Eddie living in subconscious fear for so long that he pushes the very notion of being a Boy down. so far Down and Away that he won’t ever let it see the light of day. Or so he thinks. He tells himself that he is fine, that this is fine. But it isn’t and he doesn’t know what feels wrong. Until it slowly starts to change at a glacial speed. He tries different things. Starting only in his room, makes jokes that he thinks he can get away with in front of Wayne. Pushes it further, does more Boy things with corroded coffin. Sees that it’s okay? They are okay with it? With how he is? Sees that Wayne just nods at him and doesn’t make a fuss? That Wayne’s friends don’t bay an eye somehow? (Sure some guys at work do, but Wayne makes sure they know where their opinions aren’t wanted. That Wayne and his group aren’t to be taken lightly on the topic of Wayne’s nephew)

Eddie experiencing so much acceptance and love and there being so venom in it. No ‘waiting’ for it all to pass and Eddie to go back to ‘normal’. Eddies never been normal and that’s a badge he starts to wear with pride. With defiance. Knowing that he has everyone he could ever need how could be not?

[ndostairlyrium]

A wardrobe a pyromaniac and a goth walk into a bar...

A revamp of a thingie I did back in 2016 (under the cut). They grow up so fast 😭 LUCKILY

[i--am-ironman]

Perez getting so close to getting DotD was ridiculous. Lando absolutely deserved it but it should have been Carlos up there neck & neck with him for it, not the guy who f*cked up his qualifying

lando deserves nothing but the best including this little nod to his awesome driving skills. and even though i think checo drove well and came back incredibly (you have to know how to drive even if your car is a rocket ship and other drivers were always praised for fighting their way back the field so let that be a good thing for perez too), carlos is somehow always the second or third choice in almost every situation, both in the eye of the public and for professionals. which is just fucking ridiculous. man couldn't even enjoy the day he dreamed of last year because his team wanted his teammate there instead but fucked everything up and blamed it on carlos. on carlos, who fights with his claws for every place every race, making decisions on strategy, tyre choice, when to attack who all the while driving a car 150 kmh average on a track that you cannot use fully. every time charles and him come close, commentators never fail to start the discussion on when should carlos leave space for charles like he was signed as a fucking attack dog for him. and every time it needs to be done for the greater good (for the team) and it's sensible for carlos, he backs off because he's above all a gentleman.

so honestly just fuck everything, he deserves so so so much better than the way he's always been treated.