#from such oddly specific things. sometimes completely innocuous things.

[moe-broey]

@eriisaam I just GOTTA SAY. THIS IS SO WILD TO ME. FASCINATING READ, TO ME.

I have this very oddly specific tendency. To avoid, or at least not get super involved in very specific media. This isn't at all a reflection of the media itself, it's ENTIRELY just me being Weird and experiencing what I call Shrimp Colors. No other way to put it, if I were to attempt to describe it I would sound insane.

However!!! That doesn't always stop me from absorbing things through osmosis. Sometimes it's enrichment for me, to see what my mutuals are having fun with!! I just think it's neat...

ALL THAT SAID. WILD TO ME. CRAZY TO ME. That from everything I've gleaned about Slay the Princess. It gives me Shrimp Colors, I would generally avoid it, but from what I've Seen. It feels soooo Mani coded, to me.

JUST. REALLY REALLY FASCINATING and staggering tbh to hear this. THE SHRIMP COLORS............... I was RIGHT (maybe). I feel like I've gone from "Very compelling, however I would generally avoid this one" to apprehensively "hm. Perhaps... for research purposes....."

Either way, I found this to be EXTREMELY validating to hear. In a way I can't even really comprehend. SUPER COOL 😳🧍💥💥💥

One day. I will be able to find the words. To explain what the difference is between Lif and Mani. There is a Core Difference between them. Of what they Are. Today apparently is NOT that day though.

[appleteeth]

Bruce Week Fic #6

Sunday (July 25): Grief, Magic

(Warnings for mentions of domestic and child abuse.)

It was funny, being friends with someone who knew magic. Loki had somehow, after everything they had been through, become one of Bruce’s closest confidant on board the spaceship taking them to Earth. First they would merely nod at one-another in quiet respect, then Loki stopped Bruce in the corridor one day to explain how something seemingly innocuous he had done was actually offensive in Asgardian culture and Bruce, though wary he was tricking him, thanked him. 

Then Bruce would make a habit of finding Loki in the makeshift dining hall and sitting with him, not exactly striking up conversation but letting him know they could talk, if he wanted to. 

A few months into the journey and Loki was spotted laughing loudly at something Bruce had said, and whilst it made Thor a little nervous to see them getting along so well, it was also a relief. They were both part of his Royal Council, after all, so they needed to get along for the sake of his people. 

Then, when Bruce moaned to himself about being unable to find what he needed in the cramped medical bay, Loki produced the vial out of thin air and handed it to him. 

“That still freaks me out,” Bruce told him before taking the vial tentatively. 

“I wouldn’t do it if it didn’t,” he said with a smirk.

“How does it work? Are you pulling items from somewhere else? Are you taught how to use magic or is it instinctual? Could I learn magic or is it an Asgardian thing?”

“No, I was taught by my mother and yes… to an extent. You wouldn’t be able to conjure items or control objects but you can learn basic spells.”

Bruce was excited for barely a second before he frowned. “Are you messing with me again?”

“Bruce, I have come to find you… relatively welcome company. I enjoy our conversations, even if you are a Midgardian.”

“Bit prejudiced, but thank you.”

“So I’m not messing with you,” Loki concluded. “I can give you some basic spells to try that will give you more insight into your being.”

“I, uh, think I’ve had enough insight lately," he said warily. 

And Loki smiled, this time without a mischievous glint in his eye. 

"What if I were to teach you a spell that helped you in ways you never knew you needed?"

Bruce snuck into the medical bay late into the evening whilst the rest of the ship went to sleep. It was the one place he knew he wouldn't be disturbed, especially as Asgardians were so resilient to injury, they barely came to him with less than a severed limb. 

He read through the instructions Loki had written in elaborate cursive, mostly in English but certain words wouldn't translate so he had to work through how to pronounce them before starting. It was oddly pleasant following the instructions step by step, like he was trying out a new recipe, only this was more writing specific phrases in runes than measuring out ingredients. 

He had to write the words as naturally as possible, like he had been writing in the language his entire life, recite them outloud and then… go to sleep. Which was easier said than done when he was expecting something miraculous to happen. He crept back into his shared dorm with seven other passengers and lay down, hoping that whatever was supposed to happen would actually help him.

He finally drifted off and there he found himself travelling, not sure what he was facing was a dream or effects of the spell, but welcoming it nonetheless. 

He was standing in an old-fashioned kitchen, meticulously clean down to the top of the cabinets where nobody would ever bother to look. Whoever's domain this was, it was so well looked after it could very well be a showroom. 

There were a few signs of life, however. There was a small stack of plates ready to be cleaned, a few novelty magnets on the refrigerator, a Captain America action figure on the table…

Bruce stopped, looking at the toy and realising where he was. He had spent so long trying to forget his childhood home he didn't even recognise the kitchen anymore. But he knew that toy like it was imprinted on his mind, having spent many hours clutching it, talking to it, wishing the real Cap was there to save him.

"I'm so sorry I kept you waiting, would you like some water?" 

And he spun on his heel to see her. It was so odd to view her now that he was a little taller than her, instead of being small enough to wrap his arms around her legs. She was still as beautiful as the pictures but she wasn't memorialised in his mind like some sort of perfect being. Her sweater was threadbare at the elbows, her hair was a little frizzy (thick curls like his, almost identical in colour) and she had dark circles under her eyes. She also wore glasses, which Bruce had completely forgotten because she took them off for photos. 

"Uh…" he didn't know what to say to her. 

"You must be parched, here," and Rebecca poured him a glass of water from a pitcher she kept in the fridge. "Piping in new houses is never deep enough to keep water cool, not like the old days." 

He was still trying to find words when he realised a vision shouldn't be able to hand him things, and he shouldn't be able to feel the cool water tumbling down his throat. 

"So, you wanted to talk about Robbie?" 

He nearly choked on the last mouthful and hid it with a loud cough. 

"Um, yes," he said, not sure who he was supposed to be in this scenario but going along with it all the same. 

His mother nodded and indicated for him to sit down with her at the kitchen table. Again, it felt so strange to be big enough for a chair he used to sit at every day as a kid, his legs swinging and needing a cushion so he could reach the table properly. 

"His teacher said he's been excelling," she said proudly but then immediately frowned. "You didn't speak to my husband, did you?" 

"No, of course not," and he now knew his role like he had read the script. "Yes, young Br… Robbie has been working really hard and it's clear to see he is clever." 

She smiled, but it was juxtaposed by her sad eyes. "You're going to say he should be in a gifted school, aren't you?" 

"Uh…" 

"Well I'm sorry but he can't. He just… can't." And she sighed tiredly before collecting herself. "I'm sorry, it's just--" 

"I know," Bruce said quietly. "You don't have to explain your reasons. I know you would want the best education for him, but sometimes that can't happen." 

And he couldn't help himself, she was right there in front of him. He put his hand over hers and squeezed it in comfort. 

"Thank you," she said quietly. 

"And it's not like kids won't excel as adults just because they missed out on extra tutoring," he continued. "They'll catch up in no time and go on to do great things." 

She smiled warmly and Bruce recognised his own features in hers. He never thought he looked like her, always hating how he was the spitting image of his father, but he saw himself in her smile. 

"I hope so. Do you know he can name every bird he sees? Even the scientific names. He read about bird watching and within a day he was telling me facts about each one." 

Bruce couldn't help but grin, having forgotten about that particular hyperfixation. "Is that so?" 

"If he could… that is, if we agreed he could go to a gifted school, I suspect he would get a scholarship for college, maybe even go early." 

She looked furious, if just for a moment, letting her guard down enough to show how she really felt. Bruce had never seen her angry; she had hid it well when he was small and already so scared of someone else's anger. She had shown him nothing but smiles and positivity, desperate to make his life as normal as possible. 

But he remembered hearing her crying behind the bedroom door, trying to suppress her sobs so she could go read her child a bedtime story like nothing was wrong. The illusion was shattered that day.

"You are doing everything you possibly can for your son. More than everything. You--"

He stopped himself. Was this really a dream or had he really travelled back? What would it mean if he told her?

"I will lay down my life for him," she finished, eyes defiant and full of fury. 

He felt his facade fading, no longer able to pretend he wasn't who he really was. 

"You're going to save my life. Over and over. Until that bastard kills you for it." 

He cried, clutching her hand and unable to look at her. She shouldn't have sacrificed herself for him. She wasn't supposed to be known as just a wife and mother. She was exceptionally bright in her own right, never one to boast but able to keep up with her husband and nudge her son towards harder sums and thicker books. It wasn't her fault the man who told her he loved her had used that love to control her, to make her feel weak and stupid.

Had she escaped that night, she would have done great things. 

"I know," she said quietly, tears in her own eyes. "I figured I had a shot that night. He usually stays late at the bar and left the car at home, so I thought I had three hours. But I didn't know he had a meeting the next morning and drank a whole bottle of whiskey walking home instead. I miscalculated." 

"It's my fault. You told me to pack but I couldn't find my stupid Captain America toy and…" he wiped his eyes angrily. "I held us up." 

Rebecca reached across the table to wipe the trails of tears from his cheeks.

"You were a child," she said. "It can never be your fault. Hey," and she cradled his face in her hands. "It was never your fault." 

"It wasn't yours either. None of it," he said defiantly. 

She nodded. "Thank you." 

The vision was starting to waver, like an old projection flickering as the film ran out. He clutched her hand desperately, wanting to tell her so much more, to tell her he hadn't wasted the gift she gave him that night. That he had excelled despite everything that happened. That he did everything to make her proud. 

He felt her hand slowly fading, getting lighter in his hand as it faded away. He managed to tell her he loved her before he awoke back on the ship, his face wet with tears. 

The next morning, much to everyone's confusion, Bruce marched straight up to Loki, grabbed him by the shoulder, and hugged him tightly. 

[writteninsunshine]

Walking At Night Alone - Roche/Cloud Strife - SFW

Title: Walking At Night Alone Author: Donnie Fandom: Final Fantasy VII Remake Setting: Sector Seven Slums, Cloud’s Apartment Pairing: Roche/Cloud Strife Characters: Roche, Cloud Strife, Zack Fair, Marco, Tifa Lockheart, Marle’s Dog, Biggs, Sephiroth Genre: Romance/Hurt/Comfort Rating: T Chapters: 1/1 Word Count: 2733 Type of Work: One-Shot Status: Complete Warnings: Gay, Slash, Yaoi, MLM, Past Zack Fair/Cloud Strife, PTSD, Hallucinations, Insomnia, Sweetness, Roche is full of nicknames, Fluff, Cats still hate Cloud Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. Summary: Roche finds Cloud when he really needs it. AN: Hey guys, it’s me again! Just thought I ought to say, if you want vague updates and to talk to me more, I have Twitter and Tumblr, too! Twitter is Sunshinecackle, and Tumblr is Writteninsunshine! I also have a writing Discord that is currently pretty dead. xD I can PM it to people who want it on FFN, for everyone else, it’s here: discord.gg/FyaWw25 I’m part of team Cloud Needs Some Sleep 2020, and so is Roche. At any rate, I hope you guys like this! I’m hoping that it being so long will be better than the last one, so that there’s more content for you guys! I do plan on working on some more for these two, but Sephiroth/Genesis is next up on who I’m gonna write. xD I hope you guys are looking forward to that, too! Just a warning, this only received one edit, I didn’t have anyone to look over it the last time that I usually do, so it might have a couple of issues. Let me know if it does and I’ll fix it!

Final Fantasy VII Fic Masterlist Walking At Night Alone ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Another cat hissed, swiped for his foot and bolted down the path to the pipe that lead to the park, and Cloud had only just barely left his apartment. Marle's dog stood steadfast beside her door, panting softly and relishing in the slight breeze breathing life into its fur. The wind rustled Cloud's hair, and he sighed softly, just shy of content as he glanced towards the office.

It was late enough that Chadley and Wymer were both gone, likely bedded down for the night, but there was nary a night where Cloud could get a full nights' rest. Letting his guard down for just a second could prove disastrous; Sephiroth haunted him in waking and dreaming hours alike. Marco had been making a whole host of strange noises again, and to avoid another incident where he might hurt someone, he’d deigned it a better idea to walk the slums. Nighttime didn’t mean much, even in Sector 7 it seemed because there were still people gathered around shopfronts, talking in the streets. Cloud didn���t know the time, but from the relative darkness, he supposed it was late enough that he should have been sleeping. He bet if he swung by Biggs’ place, the man would be asleep instead of sprucing up the dirt in front of his door. Even Tifa was probably long out, dreaming of a better day. Pausing in front of the bar, he stared up at the wooden sign, scrutinizing it for something that wasn’t going to be there, even if he stared for hours. Things like memories never appeared when you could actually handle them, in his experience. Though, sometimes, they did rush back when he needed them. For a second, he could have sworn he heard a chuckle behind him, a very specific tone followed by boots crushing the dirt beneath their feet. When he turned, however, he let out a breath he hadn’t noticed he’d been holding. What had he been thinking? Zack was just as gone from him as Sephiroth was. There was no way he’d come around as often, either. Good memories tended to stay in the past, even if he still had nightmares about that rainy day, screaming at nothing while wearing Zack’s blood on his face. Shaking his head almost violently, Cloud balled his fists to give himself something else to focus on, turning away and starting for the station. It was better than walking circles this early into his evening, he supposed. The brisk night air, the abundant lack of people, it all melted into the background, even as he appreciated it silently. His arms felt chilly, maybe even numb, and the fact that he could just be there and feel that made his night that much more impressive; He hadn’t lost all of his senses quite yet. Waiting around at the station landing for twenty minutes hadn’t been part of the plan. Trains hadn’t been running for the last day or so, and even the hopefuls that still thought their husbands, sisters, fathers, mothers, whatever would come back had all but left. Maybe it was the hour, or maybe it was too much to hope for. What did he even expect to happen? Someone would come to talk to him that shouldn’t have been there? Shaking his head again, Cloud crossed his arms and pushed off of the wall, frowning heavily as he stomped back towards the road leading to the main portion of the slums. Maybe a solid night in Scrap Boulevard would do him some good. He might be tired in the morning, whenever it came, but it would be better than just waiting for something that wouldn’t, or even couldn’t come. It wasn’t until he had passed the factory that he heard what could only be called determined footsteps behind him. Itchy fingers tensed against his own biceps and Cloud hugged himself tighter. If anyone had followed him, they were probably in just as much of a bad spot as he was. Tifa had warned him that he needed to ask questions first, after what had happened with Marco. Someone innocent didn’t need to die because he wasn’t in his head when he attacked them. But the stubborn footsteps followed him past the bar, up the way he usually took towards the school. Another cat yowled somewhere to his right, bolting and clambering into a seemingly innocuous pile of scrap and buckets. The crashing had Cloud on high alert, and his hand bolted to the comfort found in the grip of his sword. Closing around the familiar haft, he turned enough to see who had been following him so doggedly. What he found surprised him more than anything else he could have seen in that dark alley. Standing in the dim light was none other than Roche, that pesky Third Class SOLDIER from the other night. He kicked a bucket away from his feet, firmly placed them in the dirt and gave a wink and the kind of blinding smile that would have made the sun lamps jealous, then waved. Altogether, Cloud could see the man was trying but was he really ready to deal with this? He hadn’t slept in what felt like lifetimes. “Roche, right?” Cloud asked, narrowing an unhappy, almost accusatory glare on the blond swordsman. “Oh, Sunshine, you remembered~!” Somewhere in the excited tone of his voice, Cloud could see that the other was trying his best to keep his voice down. The time and Cloud’s desire not to get caught like this was probably the biggest reason for that. “I didn’t think I’d ever be able to find you, and then guess who I saw hanging around the train station?” “You shouldn’t be here.” Cloud’s voice was a hiss, not unlike the cats that fled from him, and his arms crossed once more. Roche would give him a fair fight, at the very least, he knew that much; it was the only reason he felt safe without his hand on his sword. If he was here for another dance, they certainly weren’t about to do it in a cramped slum alleyway. Even if Roche didn’t care about the casualties, Cloud sure did. Innocent people didn’t deserve to die because Roche was an excitable puppy. The word crossing Cloud’s mind made his lips twitch in a frown and his gaze drifted slightly to the side of Roche’s head. “Well, it’s common practice that I tend to end up in places I shouldn’t be.” Roche offered a kind smile, stepping a little closer and holding out his hand. “I was thinking, maybe, it was time for another dance. I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. It’s been a long time since someone got my blood pumping the same way that you do, Sunshine.” “Shouldn’t you still be topside?” Cloud shifted his weight to his right foot, leaning away with a huff as a show of annoyance. “But you aren’t topside, now, are you, Kitty-Cat?” Taking a couple of lazy steps forward, Roche bent just slightly at the waist to meet those downturned eyes, and his hands took the other’s cheeks in the soft leather of his gloves. “Had to come to find you… You’re intoxicating.” Surprising himself, Cloud did nothing to shake free of the other’s hands, and he pursed his lips slightly, frowning instead seconds later. There was a certain familiarity in the way that Roche invited himself into his life, into his personal space, and he found it oddly comforting to lean into those hands. “If you’re going to be down here, you’re going to have to--” “I already hid my bike, don’t worry.” Roche grinned, perking considerably as he pulled Cloud into a hug. The sudden grip around him had him stiff, jaw clenched and hands held tight at his sides. What was this even supposed to be? “It feels good to have you close, Sunshine.” He whispered against Cloud’s ear, and he gulped slightly. “Can we go somewhere to be alone?” Still stiff but maybe less so, Cloud sighed, feeling just how fatigued he was when Roche had to put more effort into holding him up. Cloud was half tempted to tell him the bar, but instead, he found himself lifted with a stunted shout on his lips. In a quick set of motions, he pulled the sword off his back and held it out in front of them, though he turned a deadly, narrowed-eyed glare on the other. “I got you, Sunshine.” How had Cloud not asked him to stop calling him that by now? “Where’re you staying? You look like you need a three-day nap.” “I-- It’s-- I’m o--” Cloud’s stilted hesitation was silenced with a skeptical look and he sighed, thunking his head into the other’s armored shoulder. “If you follow this alley all the way to the end, it’ll let out near the apartments I’m staying at.” “Okay, Kitty-Cat, be there in a blink.” At least, that had been the plan, until Cloud’s grunt of surprise at the start of his mad sprint had Roche bouncing in place, suddenly anxious. “Uh-- No running?” He asked, bashful, and Cloud nodded, his glare lightening just slightly. “You’re going to drop me or we’ll hit a wall. Take it slow or put me down.” While Cloud’s voice wasn’t a threat, it almost sounded like one. Take it slow, which forfeited his favorite force in the world, speed… Or put Cloud down? The only acceptable amount of time apart right now seemed to be none, so Roche slumped for a second, sighing and collecting his pride from the floor, before readjusting Cloud in his arms and walking like a normal person. Feeling at least a little bit safer in the other’s arms, Cloud relaxed enough to give the illusion of being too tired to fight him, closing his eyes and letting the cool night air wash over him as he was jostled in the younger’s hold. “You sure we can’t just, uh, go a little bit faster?” Roche finally asked as they passed by the schoolyard, and Cloud snorted slightly, rolling his eyes. “Taking it slow for once isn’t going to kill you. If everyone went as fast as you do, we’d never see the small stuff.” “Small stuff?” The thought of missing things had never occurred to Roche, and he looked down with those wide eyes to try and catch the look on Cloud’s face. Cloud looked away, eyes on the dirt in front of them, though they were unfocused. Had he just run through that mission with Zack, there would have been so many things that they both would have missed, and it would have been such a shame. “Like…” Finally turning back to look at him, his eyes locked on Roche’s and he sighed, “Your eyes. If I didn’t take the time to look…” Cloud sucked in a deep breath, “They’re… Really teal. And not too bright, yet.” Roche blinked a couple of times in rapid succession before focusing a bit more on Cloud’s eyes. Now, those were the eyes of a SOLDIER. “Is that bad?” “No.” Cloud shook his head, “His eyes weren’t like mine, either.” “His?” Shit. Of course he’d mess himself up by saying something about Zack too soon. “Just… Someone I used to…” Trailing off, Cloud sighed a little. “It’s not important.” “He sounds important.” Roche replied, ducking slightly around a corner to hide his face from Cloud’s eyes. “But you can tell me when you’re ready. If you’re ready at all.” Those eyes caught Cloud’s attention again when they peeked up, and the only thing that kept him from commenting was the sudden light above their heads. Cloud glanced over to the path they’d have to take to the apartment, pointing the way with the hand not holding his sword. “Over there. Once we get to the clearing with the apartments, mine’s the second one on the second floor.” “Gotcha.” Roche smiled sweetly, readjusting Cloud’s weight in his arms once more before taking the slight right that the blonde pointed him towards. “You need someone to stay the night? It could be fun.” “I have neighbors.” Cloud answered, maybe too quickly, “Thin walls. I can hear one of them coughing all the time…” “I didn’t say we had to do anything,” Roche replied, brows drawing in like curtains over his bright-- but not too bright --teal eyes, “I have every intention of making sure you actually sleep. Even if that means I have to sit outside and tell everyone off very quietly.” He was grinning again, winking theatrically, “Or if it means I have to hold you close and make sure that you sleep, I’ll do that, too. Sometimes having someone to watch your six while you sleep helps.” The way he said it sounded like Roche had experience with that need, and Cloud didn’t doubt it. That did make sense. Cloud had never had a lot of issues with insomnia before Zack’s death, but sleeping with someone around always did make him feel safer. But there was really no reason for him to be willing to be that vulnerable with this man; Roche was supposed to be the enemy, wasn’t he? But a fellow SOLDIER, he supposed, someone who had some inkling of what he was going through, it was something he couldn’t pass up. The safety in numbers with someone who might actually understand him struck him quiet. And he’s a goddamn puppy, too. Cloud couldn’t get the thought out of his head that Roche and Zack would have gotten along swimmingly. “Yeah… Maybe it will.” At this point, he was willing to try anything once if it meant he could actually rest. When was the last time he’d actually slept and not just drifted in and out of consciousness for three hours before getting up? Always exhausted and always exerting himself, that was his lot in life over the last few months. Even Roche could have been fooled by the time flying by when he was stopping in front of Cloud’s apartment not even a minute later. He let Cloud reach for the doorknob, and didn’t let him out of his arms until the door was closed behind them again and the bed was all he could fathom putting him on. While the blond looked up with a raised eyebrow, Roche grinned and shook his head, pulling all of his hair over his right shoulder. “You stay in bed, just a sec.” Setting both swords against what he assumed was a closet, he paused halfway back to the bed, where Cloud sat on his hip with one hand on the mattress. “You’re beautiful.” And Roche was breathless. “I-- Shut up.” Cloud’s delivery was swift and stilted, and he looked away with a pensive frown, biting the inside of his cheek. Roche was almost too much. When he found himself scooting into the wall to accommodate the other SOLDIER, he sighed softly, rolling onto his side to face it. Roche scooted in nice and close behind him, wrapping a strong arm around his waist. “Alright, Kitty-Cat. This is where I bid you goodnight. We can dance another night away.” Roche whispered, kissing Cloud’s ear absently as he nestled into his back, one leg up and over his hip to hold him in place. Despite himself, Cloud found that this was possibly the most comfort he had felt in this bed, and that left an odd taste in his mouth. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad thing, he thought, finding his mind growing dizzy, thoughts faint, and then fading to black. He slept until the sounds of children running and laughing outside jolted him awake and Roche simply shifted to give him a kiss on the cheek, holding him in place. “‘S okay, Sunshine.” He told him, “You can still get some shut-eye if you can.” Cloud surprised himself by nodding, eyelids sinking closed once more as he snuggled into the warmth the other man offered. He didn’t even need his thin, threadbare blanket with the other man wrapped around him like this. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ AN: Welp, there we go! This one was definitely longer than the other one, and I hope you guys liked it! I know I had a lot of fun writing this, it was super sweet and I think Cloud deserves understanding and kindness. Roche is a little over-eager but he’s a good boy, I promise! I hope to see you in the next one! I’m also looking for another beta-reader, if anyone is interested! Please let me know, through reviews/comments/joining my Discord/asks or messages on Tumblr!

[officerjennie]

Chapters: 12/? Fandom: Naruto Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara Series: Part 3 of Tobirama in Mythology Summary:

Abandoned as a child and left to starve in the streets, Tobirama hadn't expected to live long. But he stubbornly clung to life anyway, and a passing shinobi collected him and named him his ward - and he became an honorary member of the Senju family.

Click the link or continue below the cut to read! Ko-Fi link in the blog header :D

Butsuma rubbed at one of his temples, signing off on the financial budget without giving it more than a cursory once over. He tossed it haphazardly onto the stack of completed documents, most of which he’d already forgotten the details of. A proposal from the Uzumaki came to mind, one of many that had flooded his desk ever since his eldest had become of age, but the specifics were too muddled by his lack of focus to remember clearly.

Blindly reaching for the next document gave him nothing, and Butsuma paused when all he felt was the wood of his low desk at his fingertips. Sure enough, when he made himself focus he found nothing left for him to complete, leaving only the official scroll from the shogun waiting for his attention.

He’d already read it, of course. Something from the shogun himseelf couldn’t be pushed to the side for later, and he’d broken the wax seal almost immediately after he’d received it a few days prior.

Thinking about it only made his disbelieving daze worse, staring at the rolled up parchment sitting in front of him, looking so innocuous as if to taunt him. Knowing one of his elders had made a move without his approval - potentially more than one at that, though he had no proof on who it might have been that had the shogun’s ear - made his stomach roll, the taste of bile at the back of his throat.

Putting the matter off didn’t change a damn thing, of course. All it did was give him less time to prepare. His council should have already been consulted as it was, and now he had less than a week until Tobirama was expected to guard the shogun at his latest banquet.

It was a front, of course. Whatever spy one of his elders had planted in the shogun’s court had been whispering in his ear, planting information on the exceptional ward Butsuma had taken on all those years ago. They wouldn’t even have to be tall tales to catch his interest, seeing how legitimately terrifying Tobirama could be on the battlefield.

He didn’t bother rereading it. The exact wording and careful phrasing had haunted his thoughts enough the past few nights. He pushed himself up from his cushion instead, blowing out the candles and leaving his home office.

From the commotion he could hear coming from the living room, everyone was home for the night. At least his eldest was anyway, his voice near echoing around Butsuma as he made his way down the hall towards his room. He’d given up hope years ago that Hashirama would ever understand the concept of ‘inside volume’ and could only heave a sigh about it then, shutting the door to the bedroom to block out at least some of the noise.

The fur was where he’d left it, folded neatly on the bedside table, waiting. He ran an absent hand through it, frowning at the decision laid out in front of him.

If Tobirama went to the shogun as he was, with no official affiliation or name, he would not return to the Senju. The shogun had expressed great interest in his skills, and it was within his power to take Tobirama on as his own ward.

The elders were counting on that, of course. Ever since Tobirama had saved Itama, they had been subtly pushing for him to be removed from the clan. And what better way than through someone Busuma could not refuse?

His hand clenched in the fur, jaw painfully tight against the corner they’d attempted to trap him in. Letting Tobirama serve the shogun would gain the Senju great favor and more political sway in his territory. It would also mean steady employment, something that would greatly aid them on the war front. Even losing what was easily their second greatest warrior wouldn’t make it any less beneficial for the clan to let Tobirama go.

It came down to politics, as everything in his life did. The good of the clan above all else.

He picked the fur up, retrieving a second parcel out of the table drawer before leaving the room, heading back down the hallway. Just as he’d thought he might, he found Tobirama sitting in the living room with his eldest, the younger man somehow managing to read while Hashirama rambled on about some odd plant he’d found. He cleared his throat to gain their attention, making sure his son was quiet before turning to his ward.

“Tobirama, I have something for you.” He motioned for him to come closer, doing his best to ignore the height difference in the younger man’s favor as he stood in front of him. Sometimes he forgot just how old all of his boys had become, and the reminder always put an odd feeling in his chest.

He handed him the fur first, watching as Tobirama admired the pelt, holding it as if it was something precious even without yet knowing its significance. Butsuma gestured at the ties hanging off the fur, “It will fit your armor. Many Hatake warriors get them when they come of age, though it is a bit late.”

“I will be sure to thank Akamu-san when I see her.” Tobirama held it tighter to his chest, and looked ready to do so for quite some time. His son piped up then, coming over to admire and beam at the gift as well.

The parcel weighed heavy in Butsuma’s hand, and he gave brief consideration to keeping it a secret. But there were simply too many things he’d come to regret in his life. Handing it over would not be one of them.

“Here.” In his own determined haste, he nearly thrusted it at his ward. Tobirama handed the fur off to Hashirama, accepting the second gift with a brief nod as he unwrapped it.

The happuri made him freeze, the cold metal shinning in the dim light. Even Hashirama seemed to hold his breath at the sight of the crest engraved there, bold in black for the world to see.

“I know you will not put our name to shame, son.” Just because it felt like what he should do, he clapped his newest son on the shoulder once, hurrying on with the conversation to avoid any potential unsightly displays on his end. “The elders will be informed officially tomorrow evening on the matter, as you are to be named an official heir. All of the paperwork-”

Talking became difficult with Tobirama throwing his arms around him, and even more so when the blubbering mess crashed into the both of them and crushed them in his enthusiasm. He found himself awkwardly patting their backs, blinking up at the ceiling as he waited for his chance to escape.

A third body squeezed its way between the two of them, the top of Itama’s head barely reaching his brothers’ shoulders as he wrapped his arms around them the best he could.

“So what’s the cuddle pile for?”

The phrasing was embarrassing enough without Hashirama’s emotional babbling answer. Somehow Itama managed to understand the incoherent sobbing though, but his response was thankfully calm in comparison, a simple shrug as he said, “Of course Tobi’s our brother. We already knew that.”

Butsuma only put up with the huddling for a few moments longer, shooing them off and citing work as an excuse to beat a retreat from it all back down the hall. It wasn’t a complete lie since he did need to figure out how to properly break the news to his council, as well as draft a missive to the shogun about the adoption.

All that being said, Butsuma found it impossible to focus on anything for the rest of the night, finding himself oddly smug about his decision once the moisture cleared from his eyes. There was little anyone could do to snatch his son away now.