#i am wheezing bc of this ok my side is going to kill me in the morning it was not fine asfjgvhjmjyvdxxsszq

[theinfinitedivides]

ykw f*ck my device and its ability to go frame by frame bc i was about to make a post about how Kalee looked too happy getting choked out by daddy!SRK/Vikram but i decided to screenshot and keep watching and what should i see. what should i see

threw him halfway across the room for some father-son binding time and here he is chilling. literally in position to spring back up when the camera cuts to him like his ex didn't just nearly f*ck up his spine i can't breathe rn that's how hard i'm laughing

[shootybangbang]

Hi. I had to psych myself up to ask un-anonymously ☺ I feel like a stupid derp new kid bc I'm new to tumblr & struggling w/ fanfic. Anyhoo, I absolutely adore & look up to your writing. Your descriptions are always so brilliant & lovely, sth I struggle with. Your nsfw pieces perfectly mix spicy & moving. I especially love "In Which You Both Demonstrate How Not to Ride a Horse." I was so touched & wanted to cry, & with so few words. Waiting to read "Things Asked & Promised" bc I know I'll enjoy it & want to give it undivided attention.

Could I pls ask for a nsfw Arthur x fem reader piece where they're accidently voyeuristically discovered in a hot n spicy moment? If not it's ok. Thank you for your writing!

I realize that what I am doing is the equivalent of handing someone a cup of tuberculosis after they asked for ice cream and for that I am sorry

[Ao3 link] [Part 2]

In which quills are shed [Part 1/2]

Bluegill scales cover the oak slats like a scatter of half moons. Or, viewed through the lens of your current mood, a scatter of torn fingernails, each one ripped clean. Glancing up at the man at the other side of the table, you drag the back of the knife viciously against the dead fish’s decimated mail, and another shower of parts falls against the notched wooden surface like a morbid spray of rain. 

Micah asks. “You and Morgan still fucking?”

He says the words loud enough to carry across the whole of what ragged remainder is left of the camp at Beaver Hollow. The two strangers sitting by the cave’s open maw look up from their card game, and you feel a faint, falling sensation in your chest. The kind that flutters through when you miss a step going down the stairs.

Keeping your head down, you continue scraping at the bluegill.

“Nah, can’t be. Doubt that miserable bastard can even get hard, the state he’s in now. And even if he could, can’t see him lasting more’n two minutes without, y’know…” Micah wheezes dramatically, adopts a wet, hacking cough that sounds despairingly close to the real thing.

You put the tip of the knife to the seam of the bluegill’s belly, then rip it open with unwarranted violence. Droplets of fish blood spatter against the front of your dress.

“Now, if what you’re looking for is satisfaction, I’d suggest you head on down to my tent.” From the periphery of your vision, you can see Micah jab his thumb towards the lean-to set up in the shadow of Dutch’s tent. A hint of bile rises to the back of your throat. “I’ll show you how a real man fucks a woman.”

Come any closer and I’ll show you how to skin a snake, you think, groping for innards with your fingers. Grasping the bluegill’s pebble-shaped heart, you yank out a string of entrails that glistens dark red and gleaming, and let it drop from your hand onto the table with a wet plop.

“Best time to do it’d be now, while Morgan’s out gettin’ himself killed.” Micah says this affably, as though you’ve acquiesced. “And on the off chance that he does come back, what he don’t know won’t hurt him, right?”

You lever up the flap adjacent to the fish’s cheek with the tip of the knife, then reach in to tear out the gills. The fanned red edge nicks the pad of your thumb. Wincing, you jerk your hand away to check the cut.

“Aw, didja hurt yourself? Here, let me see—”

The moment he steps towards you, you flinch and brandish the knife like a weapon. “Alright, alright,” he says, holding up both hands, retreating. Under his breath, he mutters, “Goddamn touchy little bitch.”

Beside the mouth of the cave, the shorter of the two strangers (what were their names? Joe and… Clem, or something?) stands up and rests his hand on the hilt of his holstered gun. 

You flick your eyes towards the overturned soapbox beside the campfire. There, Dutch glances up from the book in his hand and holds your gaze just long enough to acknowledge your plight. He raises his eyebrows, then deliberately turns his head away, returning his attention to what might be his millionth perusal of Evelyn Miller.

All of your potential allies are either departed or well out of sight: the girls at the river, Charles on the hunt, Sadie on guard duty. John, scoping out a potential lead up north somewhere.

And with him, Arthur.

With exaggerated precision, you lower the knife and lay the edge of its blade at an outward slant adjacent to the bluegill’s puckered mouth. You lift your head to look Micah in the face, then slam your hand against the dull heel of the knife hard enough that it decapitates the fish in one swift motion, slicing through scale and muscle and bone with a beautifully crisp thunk.

He doesn’t seem impressed. Micah says, “You really gonna keep on pretendin’ you can’t talk? I heard you well enough the other night, while I was sittin’ out here on guard duty.” In a high, breathy voice, he squeals, “Ohhh, Arthur!”

Blood rushes to your cheeks. Hot with shame and anger, you duck down and glare instead at the dead fish. Its round, sightless eyes stare pointlessly back at you.

“Alright. If you’re still gonna play at bein’ a deaf-mute, lemme spell things out real clear for you.” Micah makes an obscene gesture, points at himself, then rubs his fingers together to indicate that he has money, all the while enunciating loud and slow, “HOW… MUCH… TO… SUCK MY—”

“I am not for sale,” you snarl. “And I would sooner cut off my own tongue than put it anywhere near your diseased prick.”

“So she can speak,” he says, unfazed by the insult.

“Probably speak better than you and every other contemptible fuck in this camp. Van der Linde included.”

“Wouldn’t say that if I were you. If word got to Dutch that you were disrespecting him— well, ain’t no telling how he’d react. Might even find it… disloyal. And I’m sure you wouldn’t want that.” As he speaks, he nods towards the northern stretch of woods banking the cave, where the blackened and twisted branches left from an impromptu pyre still lie scattered. And beside it, the shallow grave of what little had remained of Molly O’Shea afterward, unmarked and unmourned. 

A cold trickle of fear runs down your spine. “Arthur wouldn’t—”

“Arthur this, Arthur that.” Micah pronounces the name as though it were something foul in his mouth. “Open your eyes, you dumb cunt. Black Lung’s gonna be dead within the week. If not from the fuckin’ plague, then for sure by the Pinkertons. Just look at him. He can barely walk.”

Within the week. God. No, he’s not… he’s not quite that bad…

(not that bad yet, a voice murmurs from inside your head)

“And when he’s six feet under,” he continues. “You’re gonna have nobody on your side. That is, unless you start courtin’ new loyalties now.”

Micah Bell has laid all your worst fears out in front of you as frankly and bluntly as an assortment of dead fish at market. And to this, there is but one response. Not denial. Not anger. Only the deepwater chill of utter despair.

“You ain’t that stupid. I’m sure you can see the writing on the wall.” His voice smooths to something unctuous and oddly familiar. It takes a second for recognition to click. This is the same voice he uses when flattering Dutch. “So what’s it gonna be? You gonna cast your lot in with a corpse, or you gonna make the smart choice and go with the man with the highest chance of making it outta this place alive?”

“I’ll go to the grave with him before I go to bed with you,” you hiss.

Micah laughs. “Oh sure, you’re all bravado now, but we’ll see what you really are when the shit hits the fan. A whore. Just like every other cunt here.” He raises a hand in farewell and starts walking away, calling over his shoulder, “You know where my tent is, honey. Come find me after you ditch Morgan.”

With a great deal of effort, you force yourself to train your focus back on the bluegill. You slip your knife to a space just above its spinal cord and angle the blade parallel to the table, then begin carving its pale meat away from the thin, clustered bones. 

Filleting has always seemed inordinately wasteful to you– throwing away perfectly good meat, that’s what it is. A stupid and tedious method, and truth be told half the reason you hate doing it is because you’ve never been particularly good at it— but Arthur always complains about spitting fish bones otherwise, so… so…

The realization sifts in as soft and cold as autumn rain. So soon I won’t have to do this anymore.

No. No, no, no— that’s not true at all— you’ll be filleting fish until your dying day, and you’ll roll your eyes and sigh all the while, and he’ll be just as annoying, asking melodramatically whether you want him to choke to death on a fish bone, and… and… 

A teardrop falls onto the back of your hand. Another falls onto the half-stripped bluegill, then another, and another, all raining down in rapid succession until you have to put the knife down to wipe at your eyes with your sleeve.

— — —

You hurry to the hitching post at the first, faint rumble of hooves, standing next to the grazing horses straight-backed and overeager. The light blue dress you’d borrowed from Tilly looks nearly white in the pines’ damp shadows, and it cuts through the gloom so starkly that when John emerges from the woods, he startles.

John is alone. 

“It’s alright,” he says, answering the anxious, searching look on your face. “Arthur’s just a little ways back. Shouldn’t be more than a minute.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’s wrong. Said he was gettin’ somethin’.”

A white-hot curl of contempt coils tight in your chest. You narrow your eyes. “Dutch is sending him out on another errand before he’s even back from this one?”

“What? No, nothin’ like that. S’cuse me,” he adds, swinging his leg over the saddle to dismount. 

Gathering your skirts in your hands, you hastily backstep a few paces away to give him space enough to maneuver. “Shit, I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I’m pelting you with questions before you’re even out of the saddle—”

“You don’t gotta apologize,” John interrupts. “You ain’t done anythin’ wrong. And hey, uh…” his voice drops low with the gentle lilt that seems to always accompany well-intentioned white lies. “He’s… I think he’s doin’ a little better. Weren’t coughin’ as much as he usually does.”

Over and over again, you’ve played along with these small farces. Little fictions woven for your benefit. The only one who’s taken it upon himself to tell it to you plainly is Micah, and in a sick, bitter way you’re almost grateful for it.

You force a smile. “I’m glad to hear it.”

John sighs. He looks at the thin path that picks through the mountains and into camp and sets his mouth to a stubborn, flat line. “Listen,” he says, and there is conviction in his words now, whether true or misguided not for you to determine. “Arthur’s gonna be alright.” Awkwardly, as though sympathy were an undertaking largely unfamiliar to him, he pats you on the shoulder. “He’ll pull through,” he says. “He always does.”

It’s another twenty minutes before Arthur finally arrives, his clothes gritty with buffeted dust and his shoulders slumped with apparent exhaustion. Bedraggled and drained, and when he spots you standing by the hitching post, his smile is weary, worn thin by the long miles he’s traveled.

“Hey there,” he calls out.

“Hey,” you reply. “What kept you?”

“I’ll show you in a bit. C’mere.” He sets himself on the ground, and pulls you into what’s clearly meant to be a quick embrace before he unsaddles Athena. But when he lets go, you don’t. Bemused, he rests his gloved hand on top of your head, runs his fingers through your hair. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” you say, hiding your face against his chest. “I’m just glad you’re back, and not— shot full of holes, or skewered, or something.”

“Course not. Just scopin’ the place out for now. Gettin’ shot full of holes and skewered comes later.”

You raise your head to fix him with a severe, unamused look, and his smile quickly fades. “You’ve been cryin’,” he says, frowning. “What’s wrong?” 

What isn’t wrong? The blood flecked at the corner of his mouth and shirt collar, the quietly pursuant eyes of the strangers by the cave, the cold portent of what might come next, all of it building up day by day like a red rime of rust. 

“Nothing’s wrong.” With a note of mechanical cheeriness, you tell him, “Hey, that net Charles set up in the river finally worked out! Caught a bluegill, so I—”

From the staging ground behind you comes Dutch’s voice from on high, shouting his name. A master calling for his errant hound. Arthur doesn’t even look up. “Tell me what happened.”

You shake your head. Reluctantly, you step away from and gesture towards camp with an unenthusiastic wave of your hand. “He won’t be happy if you keep him waiting. Especially on my account.”

“Dutch,” Arthur says, and he sounds more tired than angry, as if even resentment has been ground out of him by the sheer weight of his fatigue. “I won’t be long,” he says. “Meet you at the tent.”

— — —

His cot is uncomfortable without him in it. Especially these days, as the first tinge of autumn begins to assert itself. The evening chill that much sharper, the afternoon that much darker. Pulling one of his jackets over your shoulders, you sit yourself on the cot’s rickety edge and lean towards the crate set at his bedside, gently lifting the chipped saucer you’d covered the plate of roasted bluegill with to keep it warm.

It’s long since gone cold.

With the tent flaps drawn down, everything here dims to an ambient blue, tinted by what light manages to filter through the navy canvas. Rather gloomy, really. Near impossible to read anything without squinting hard at the print.

But with the tent flaps up, they’ll accuse you of eavesdropping. Which is an activity that you’d partake in enthusiastically, you admit, were it not for your precarious position in camp. A position predicated solely on Arthur’s wellbeing and Dutch’s (extremely conditional) goodwill.

They’re having some sort of protracted argument up there on the ridge. An argument which has lasted— you check your pocket watch, peering irritably into its cracked glass face— about sixteen minutes now. It takes some effort to make out who exactly the participants are. Dutch, of course: his booming baritone is difficult to mistake. And Arthur, and John, and… Bill? Micah, too. And a voice you don’t quite recognize. 

Bill shouts something that carries the tone of accusation, and Arthur snarls something in reply. And… now it seems like they’re all yelling. Then Dutch again, cutting in to mediate. 

Things quiet down after that, diminishing back to just a muted murmur of dissent. You hear Arthur’s heavy, plodding footsteps a short while afterward, crunching against hard-packed dirt and the scattering of dead leaves that have begun to fall. He pulls up the tent’s left flap and pins it back and you throw a hand up to shade your eyes against the blinding mid-afternoon sun.

Against that brightness he is momentarily cast in silhouette. In that shadow, he is imposing still, his broad shoulders and looming height undiminished. But when you’ve blinked the dazzle out of your eyes, it’s just Arthur again, looking well and truly expended. 

He doesn’t even bother taking off his coat or setting his satchel down before he sits down beside you. The cot’s metal frame lets out a pitiful squeak.

“What was that all about?” you ask.

“I ain’t sure myself.” Idly, Arthur presses a palm between your shoulder blades. Tentative, then firm, as if feeling for a solid surface in the dark. With things gone to vapor, something to hold onto, to follow through to the end. “Lot of bluster. Lot of talk about ‘loyalty’. And faith.”

“I thought I heard you snap at Bill.”

“Yeah. He called you a Delilah.”

That’s a new one. “A Delilah,” you repeat, smiling a little. “That’s surprisingly literate, for Bill. I’m almost impressed.”

Arthur’s voice is quiet and worried. “He sure as hell didn’t come up with it himself.”

“Then who do you think…”

He doesn’t answer this. Just briefly curls the hand at your back into a fist, bundling the cloth there between his fingers. Holding on tight before he lets go in that way that says, later. “Anyway,” he says. “I got you something.”

“Arthur, you don’t have to—”

Rummaging through his satchel, the straps and leather of the thing just as battered and scarred as himself, he pulls out something small and round, and tosses it into your lap.

An apple.

“Found a little cluster of fruit trees not too far from here,” he says. “Someone’s attempt at an orchard, looks like. They’re only just comin’ in to season, and most of ‘em are still green, but I found a few ripe ones. Could take you there later today, if you want.”

“You were late because you went apple picking?”

“You’re always whinin’ about how much you miss sweets, and I figured this was the next best thing.”

Ah. He’s caught you. As he does again and again. Without even meaning to, he’s trapped your heart in his hands like a child catching a grasshopper: guilelessly, heedless of the desperate, dire flutter between his fingers. No escape, but you’ve never been more willing to die like this, so long as he keeps smiling at you the way he does now. Soft and focused, as though everything else has fallen away.

You bite your lip against the inopportune swell of emotion and argue, “Twice is not ‘all the time’.”

“Oh yeah?” His smile turns to a smirk. “Abigail said you keep openin’ that biscuit tin she keeps her sewing supplies in and lookin’ all disappointed. Like you think those needles are gonna magically turn to biscuits the forty-seventh time around.”

“It’s not a biscuit tin. It’s a macaroon tin,” you say, your voice petulant with longing. “I love macaroons.”

“Yeah, well. Eat your apple and pretend then.”

You run your thumb over the plump curve of the apple. Speckled gold and striated with crimson, it’s smaller than what you’d find at the grocer’s, but with a richness of color that makes it look like something plucked from a fairytale forest. You almost can’t stand to eat it. 

Almost. When you bite through to the apple’s white flesh, the clarity of its sweetness catches you off guard. Like a last, golden taste of departed summer.

“It’s good, right?”

“Thank you,” you say through a mouthful of fruit. “I really… I— um… ”

It’s not something you’ve ever gotten good at, showing appreciation. With kindnesses like this, it’s all you can do to stumble through the words and lay your hand on his knee, hoping to convey with touch what you cannot do with words.

He lays his own hand over top, keeping you there. Arthur traces over the ridge of your knuckles as you gnaw the fruit down to its knobbly core, then asks gently, “So, you gonna tell me what happened?”

No use in putting it off any longer. He’s more persistent than a dog at a bone, with some things. You happen to be one of them. Staring down into your lap, at the apple’s yellowing hull held loosely in your hand, you say, “Micah told me I should fuck him if you… you know.”

“If I die,” Arthur says flatly.

You give a single, reluctant nod.

“I’m gonna kill him.” He says this calmly, as though it were a task as mundane as any other. Chop wood, draw water, murder Micah. Arthur starts getting up, and you have to grab at his coat to drag him back down.

“I told him I’d sooner die than fuck him,” you tell him. “And I mean it.”

At this, Arthur sours. He fixes you with a long, hopeless look, too exhausted to be angry but with just enough energy left for irritation, then sighs and passes his hand over his face. “You think I like hearin’ you say shit like that? Scares the hell outta me, the way you keep talkin’ like you’re gonna follow me to the grave.”

“But I—”

“But nothin’. Listen” he interrupts, and he drops his voice down to little more than a whisper. “I’ve been talkin’ to Sadie and Abigail. When I’m gone, you go to them and they’ll—”

“Stop it,” you say in a small, shrill voice. “You’re not gonna die. I won’t let you.”

And then you start crying so hard that your shoulders shake. Big, heaving sobs that you’re sure half the damnable camp can hear, but you’re past caring. Let them hear what they’ve done. How they’ve ruined you, ruined him until he’s become but the torn up shadow of his former self. An apple core chewed to its very stem.

Arthur pulls you against his chest. He tucks your face against the junction of his neck and shoulder, and you can feel the heave and fall as he draws in a deep breath, then lets it out shuddery and slow. “No,” he murmurs, gripping you tight as you soak the collar of his shirt with tears. “Of course I won’t.”

When your sobs abate to hiccups, he shifts to press a kiss to your forehead. Then another to your cheek, and another to your mouth. And though it begins chastely enough, it deepens almost immediately into something urgent and hungry. Clutching at each other as though drowning, your hands frantically working him out of his coat and the nip of his teeth at your neck— until abruptly, he shoves you back and turns away, shoulders hunched as he shoves his hand over his mouth and coughs.

Relatively speaking, it’s not so bad this time. Just a few frightening seconds of hacks and wheezes. The terrible whistle of air through his ruined lungs, and then the short, choppy inhales afterward as he tries to catch his breath. At this point, there’s nothing unfamiliar in it, but the sharpness of that newly ruptured horror— the jagged ridge of horror at that first glimpse of blood at his lips— splinters through with each iteration. The wounds of the past do not mitigate those yet to come, and so it is with this. 

You scramble off his cot and start towards his trunk, but he grabs the sleeve of your dress and shakes his head. He’s not yet recovered enough air to talk. Panting hard, he holds out the hand he’d covered his mouth with and flips it palm up to show you the absence of blood.

“I still think you should take some,” you reply, frowning. 

“…s’alright,” he gasps, not looking it at all— face flushed from exertion and eyes bloodshot, spacing every cluster of words with a strained and shallow breath. “Besides, we’re gonna… go through that bottle of tonic in no time if you…  keep givin’ me a spoonful every time I cough.”

“Water, then.” But when you pick up the pitcher by his bed, you find it empty. “Goddammit, I keep on forgetting to— alright, give me a second,” you say, skirt flaring out like a dervish as you turn and sprint out of his tent.

 The barrel of rainwater is a ways up the ridge, wedged behind the chuckwagon. On your way there, you run past Charles, who calls out to you as he carries a clutch of dead pheasants that hang from his hands like bloodied feather dusters. You return his greeting with a hurried “hold-on-i’m-getting-water”, then promptly slam into someone very large and solid and fall on your ass, dropping the pitcher in the process.

“I’m so sorry,” you start to say, but the last word dies in your mouth, because halfway through saying it, you decide no, you’re not very sorry at all, actually.

The black-coated stranger, the one who’d put his hand on his gun when you’d pointed a knife at Micah, looks down at you with an inscrutable expression on his face. The pitcher has rolled to a stop right beside him, and when you reach for it, he steps on its handle with his boot. 

He, Micah, and that other skinny bastard. You’d like to gut them. You’d like to see them choking on the gallows, legs dangling and dancing feebly in midair. You’d like to fasten the noose yourself, see in their eyes the same fear you feel now. Instead, you smile very sweetly and say in as polite a voice you can muster, “I sincerely hope to see you get hit by a train someday.”

The man spits on the ground and the smile he returns resembles the rictus grin of rigor mortis. “Micah did say you had a mouth on you. See if we can’t put it to some other use.”

“I bite,” you reply tersely.

“Not without teeth—”

“That’s enough.” Charles interrupts, striding over. His voice is calm and forceful, in that quiet way those assured of their own strength eschew volume. He stands over you, and you find yourself face-to-face with one of the dead birds he’s carrying, its round amber eyes glassy and still. A compatriot, you think. Both your fates wholly dependent on the volitions of men with guns. 

The stranger’s mouth tightens to a half-sneer, but he raises his boot. You snatch the pitcher away as though he might change his mind, clutching it to your chest like it’s precious. 

For perhaps a second— a second that seems to stretch to minutes— he stares Charles in the eye. And though you can see neither of their faces very well from your place on the ground, you can well imagine the line of tension drawn between them, taut and electric as wire. Then he shrugs and steps to the side. He continues down the ridge, deliberately clipping Charles by the shoulder as he stalks towards the hitching post.

You wave away Charles’ outstretched hand and get to your feet by yourself, patting dirt from your dress in faint puffs of dust. “Thank you,” you say. The second time today that you’ve had to subject yourself to the uncomfortable ordeal of gratitude.

“Don’t know what Dutch was thinking, letting Micah bring in men like that,” Charles says in a low voice. “The way he looks at you and the other women…”

“Yeah, I… think I’ll stick closer to the girls from now on.”

“You do that.” He watches as the stranger’s back diminishes with distance, the black coat melting in with the shade of the pines. “And I’ll keep an eye on him.”

As he walks with you towards the chuckwagon, you wipe the pitcher clean with your skirt and briefly mention the day’s catch, the bluegill bright and iridescent in its panic as it had flapped against the netting. The foolishness of fillets. The abundance of wild game in spite of the dearth of everything else, and poultry dishes. But for all your blathering, you’re unable to steer the conversation away from the inevitable. All roads lead to Rome, and all talk leads to Arthur. 

“I don’t know,” you reply dully when Charles asks after him. You balance the lid of the rain barrel against its wooden rim, and the reflection that stares back from the crescent of revealed water is dark-eyed and wan with uncertainty. You dip the ladle through the image like shattering a mirror and splash the water into the pitcher. “John said he was doing better. But I think he’s losing weight again, and he’s so pale, and…” Humorlessly, you huff out a bleak laugh. “He did promise not to die, so we’ve got that going for us, at least.”

Charles is quiet awhile. The rain water sloshes a little less noisily against the pitcher with each addition until it is nearly silent. Finally, he says, “I’ll see if I can’t convince Dutch to let me take on some of the scouting jobs in his place. Have him focus on hunting instead. It’d be easier on him. And he’d come back to you every night.”

The third thank you of the day, and by far the most meaningful. There is no simple phrase that springs to mind that doesn’t feel grossly inadequate. 

“Charles,” you say, and the measure of trust you have in him makes him one of the perishingly few men you’d ever offer this to. “If there’s anything I can do for you, anything at all…”

“Just be well,” he says. “Both of you.”

It’s funny, actually. You’d made this same proposition to Arthur early into your acquaintance, and his answer had been much the same. A simply stated, don’t die.

When you get back to the tent, Arthur’s lifting the saucer and peering at the roasted fish with some curiosity. “You cut me a fillet?” he asks.

“Yeah.” You fill the tin cup from his mess kit until there is scarcely a millimeter between rim and ripple and set it carefully on the bedside crate.

“Well, thanks. Appreciate it. Guess I should be sick more often if it makes you this sweet.”

The possibility of future illness is dementedly reassuring. He’s clearly trying to needle you a little, drive you to irritation to distract from despair, and you have to bite your lip to fight down wretched sentimentality.

“I still think it’s a stupid way to eat fish,” you say.

“Right,” he replies, groping in his satchel for a fork. “Because it’s so much smarter to risk my life every time I want a cut of trout.”

“Only because you think it’s appropriate to try and inhale half the fish with a single bite. You’re supposed to take small bites. You ever heard of savoring a meal?”

“You ever heard of efficiency?” he asks, and you playfully kick at his boot in response.

He says something impolite about your general taste in food. Impractical, he snickers, before gracing you with the worst mispronunciation of “hors d’oeuvres” you’ve ever heard. And you fall easily into the old pattern of banter, an ersatz normality at best. Like a single strip of gauze over an axe wound, fragile and frayed, but it’s something. It’s something.

He drains the cup only after a considerable amount of coaxing, and you suspect that it’s rather on purpose. Caretaking has never been your strong suit. It must be bizarre, and not without a considerable amount of confused satisfaction on his part, to watch you fuss over him like this, trying hard to turn the reticent, abrasive impulse to something gentle. Like a porcupine pulling out its own quills, shedding that which has cloistered its taciturn heart for so long.

When the plate is empty, he sets it aside and wipes his mouth with his sleeve, then makes as if to set out again. You pull at his coat with both hands and state rather than ask, “What the hell are you doing.”

“Told you I’d take you out to that orchard.”

“Not when you’re half-dead on your feet, you’re not.”

He scoffs. “Can’t tell you how many times I been sent out on jobs in even worse shape than this.”

You say, “I know.”

“If you know, then—”

“It’s because I know!” you snap at him, a little spark of anger flaring like a sputter of hot oil. But not at him. “I’m not Dutch. I’m not about to ask you to drag yourself back on the road when you’re sick and exhausted and… and like this.” You sweep your arm horizontal as if presenting him for show. “And all for my sake.”

He stares at you like you’ve just recited something blasphemous to him. And him sitting there like a penitent silent to this new heresy. Not a word of denial.

“You keep doing things for me,” you say, voice breaking. Both your hands are balled up in your skirt, wadding up the worn linen with your knuckles white. “Even when you’re…” 

Dying is the word that you won’t say. 

… even when it’s supposed to be the other way around,” you amend. You kick his boot again. “You stupid man.”

The added insult has him quirking up the corner of his mouth. “Guess we’re well matched, then.”

“Two idiots.”

“Two idiots,” he agrees, kicking off his boots. Arthur shrugs off his coat and tosses it expertly against the back of his chair, where it hangs in a perfect parabola, then heaves the rest of himself onto the narrow cot, squirming to the left until there’s just enough room for you to lie sideways.

When you pull down the tent flap and crawl in beside him, he stretches his arm out to accommodate you, letting you rest your head against his shoulder as he unties the ribbon binding your braid with one hand. He loosely combs through the plait until your hair curtains your back, the ends still waved.

“I talked to Charles about fish bones today,” you say, cheek pressed against his shirt.

“What’d he say?” His voice is vague and drowsy. A good sign. It’s the nights he can’t sleep that worry you the most.

“He said fish bones are thin enough that you can just eat them if you chew long enough.”

“And what do you think?” 

“I think it’s awful.”

“Thank god,” he says. “For a second there I was a little worried you might agree with him. And that I’d have to beg you to never serve me fish again.”

You flick him on the shoulder and he kisses the top of your head, which seems an appropriate microcosm of your usual interactions. And as he drifts into sleep, you lay there awake for a long while, listening to the cadence of his breathing. The slow in and out of it, and the occasional wheeze interspersed like an afterthought. By the time you’re able to fall asleep, the bright line of sunshine splashed at the gap beneath the tent flaps has deepened to orange, stained red by evening.

[tartagliaxx]

hi. i only got to play in inazuma today so here's me live reacting to the archon quest. it's a lil out of context tho so have fun trying to figure out which parts im talking abt. also, this is the only time i'm going to be talking abt spoilers for at least one week so... 🤷‍♀️

swordfish ii? cute.

Jesus Christ. and here i thought it was my lowest settings that made his hair grey… this poor kid. teppei i admire your determination but no… just no...

SCARAMOUCHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

IF EVIL WHY SO HOT

you know.... scaramouche could stand still and the air would get electrified. and yknow,,, that's p... that's p attractive

ugh im disgusting myself. and here i thought i still had an inch of sanity left in me.

of all people it had to be this little jerk

scaramouche is so fucking evil. i’d like ten of him, please.

man,, they expect me to dodge this shit? that’s the biggest l i’ve heard today. none of that shit. i’m bringing out my zhong and my sweet madames skrrt

sayu is adorable… i remember when i had hopes of growing up too… alas, it has come to this.

OH MY GOD AYATO CRUMBS. I AM LICKING THAT SHIT UP. PLEASE— HE HAS A SECRET UNIT. THATS SO HOT WTF. AYATO MY DEAR, PLEASE DONT BE A REGULAR ICKY NPC BUT WHITE HAIRED…

SNEAKY SNEAK. SNEAKY SNEAK.

THOMA OH MY GOD MY MALEWIFE. HOW HAVE YOU BEEN? also, sayu’s sleeping again. this girl’s got talent. is her circadian rhythm okay?

pains me to be the bearer of all bad news and no good news…

WAIT THOMA IS LEAVING NO DONT LEAVE YET I WANT TO LOOK AT YOU MORE

oh nvm he’s still in the background.

EYY WHATS UP AYAKA. YOU’RE AS FINE AS EVER.

i… i don’t like where this is going… i refuse to be the bait. i’m too hot for that. so spicy they’ll spit me right out

DONT VOLUNTEER YOURSELF LUMINE— GIVE ME AN OPTION OR AT LEAST AN ‘OH SHIT HERE WE GO AGAIN’ LINE

YES FIREWORKS THAT WOULD WORK RIGHT? PLEASE TELL ME THAT WOULD WORK-

oh thank god… wait... they… they wouldn’t ask me to be the one to set off the fireworks right?

UNFORTUNATELY NO. AFTER YOU BECOME A FREE MAN, YOU’RE IMMEDIATELY MARRYING ME THOMA ANJKFHAIGHLANGKLAHOFJLKAB

oh crap… i’m… i’m in deep.

HE’S BEEN LOOKING FORWARD TO SEEING US AGAIN EVERY DAY SINCE HE GOT THERE ANFLaglvbajlfblabvljabefva;bfalLJBLJDABVBAALSNADL tumblr user @tartagliaxx is broken. she is now irreparable. she has no regrets. goodbye.

ehem… what if… you and i… and hotsprings… together?? JUST KIDDING. PG-13 OVER HERE. NOTHING INDECENT WHATSOEVER MOVE ALONG NOW

poor thoma,,,

oh come on ayaka… cut us some slack… i just watched lumine wheeze bc of evil purple mist only to be dragged into 2 timeskips and an entire training arc. dont let her be yet another traumatized shounen manga protagonist… altho, it might be uh… too late for that…

oh dear… is thoma going to get another round of diarrhea?

OF COURSE. OF COURSE IT’S ME DOING ALL THE WORK. OF COURSE IT’S ME WHO’S RISKING MY LIFE ALL OVER AGAIN. GOD! GIVE LUMINE A BREAK. BEING A TRAVELER DOES NOT MEAN IT’S FREE REAL ESTATE.

hello yoimiya… still looking as bomb as ever i see……… mhm… gonna see myself out rn…

HELP MY SHITTY GRAPHICS COMPLETELY ERADICATED HER BROWS

oh god… are we dying because of fireworks? forget getting caught by the patrol… we’re about to light up an untested firework that was made to be a billion times more explosive….

NO. SHE SAID IT. SHE SAID THE CURSED SENTENCE. WHATS THE WORST THAT COULD HAPPEN? IDK YOU TELL ME. YOU JUST SENTENCED US TO DEATH YOIMIYA GREAT GOING still love you tho.

man… these patrol guards aint shit… i literally walked an inch behind their backs and they did nothing… its a surprise the rebellion still hasn’t won when they place guards like this in their ranks………. ok that was kinda mean i’ll apologize in a bit.

SAYU OMG… DONT WORRY I’LL SNEAK YOU OUT AND RISK MY LIFE willingly JUST TO RESCUE YOU. ILYSM HONEY YOU’RE DOING SO WELL

no, paimon. it’s not but we’re doing it anyway 🤡

NO ONE TOLD ME WE’RE GOING TO RUN. I WENT COMPLETELY OFF COURSE. first try tho 😏

HELLO THOMA. HELLO AYAKA.

HELLO SAYU. HOW DID IT GO? IM GUESSING IT WENT WELL BC YOU’RE STILL ALIVE?

oh no….. she’s worn herself out…. man,,, this is why you dont make convicts out of kids….

WE ASKED SAYU FOR AN INCH AND SHE GAVE AS TEN THOUSAND MILES. SAYU MY CHILD YOU EXCEED EXPECTATIONS

god, don’t remind me. as hot as the shogun trying to kill us w her blade was, i don’t appreciate almost getting murdered on screen (even if we most certainly have plot armor)

awwww is thoma worried about me uwu owo? dw i have like… a lumine w 6% crit rate by my side

sigh… i dont want to leave yet… cant i just stay by thoma’s side and not go to war for a change?

it was at this moment that tumblr user lei saw the wonders of being a housewife.

oh sara… my stars… i’m so sorry. i feel so bad for you but at the same time… this oddly makes me want to write a song for you ABJFJKABJABCABVABVKA I KNOW JACK SHIT ABT SONGWRITING WHY AM I THINKING LIKE THIS

well… there she goes…

oh…. oh….. yae is stealing my heart. WHAT DO I DO WHAT DO I DO (i have an alt for a reason heehee)

DEAR LORD. PLEASE STEP ON MY NECK SARA.

these guys got guts to say ‘i’m sorry ma’am’ to THE kujou sara.

oh old man… you’re dead. you’re so dead.

man… this old man is a simp? sheesh.

YES. GO TELL EM PAIMON. PREACH THAT SHIT LOUD AND CLEAR.

oh my god… is that dude dead? i probably should’ve uh apologized b4 he flopped down to the ground ig…

MAN,, SARA’S DOWN FOR THE COUNT?? tbf i didnt expect much but…. also, AYE SIGNORA’S SO ICY.

she’s calling me out for being a simp ;-; heart been broke so many times or smth

OH SHIT LUMINE SPOKE. MAN,, WHY IS SHE SO COOL.

oh… i love this part of the vow… im suddenly inspired to write… how about a wedding au? an angsty wedding au?

goddamn… it’s been nice knowing you all…. i dont think i’ll come out of this alive if signora went out like that…

WHATS HAPPENING? ARE YOU SAYING KAZUHA WENT THROUGH THIS BS? IS LUMINE OKAY-

DID THEY REALLY JUST STORM THE ENTIRE FUCKING CAPITAL?? THEY HAVE SOME NERVE.

FUCK OMG KAZUHA AHHAHFHAFHAHGKJABKASBGA IM TEARING UP WTF WHY AM I GETTING EMOTIONAL- HONEY BUN THATS SO HOT OF YOU TO DO

oh… oh it’s time for round two? haha… time to… say my goodbyes….

yo… there are actual tears in my eyes… like… idk why… but that cutscene? shit man… that hit me…

hm… i feel bad for the shogun… ultimately, there is reason behind every act no matter how horrid. no matter how unreasonable, the reason one thinks of is always justified on their end. whatever everyone else thinks pay little effect on whether the act is fulfilled or not. also, her little laugh? i’m extra deceased.

the animation's fire as always wtf

oh but my kokoro... oof... my kokoro... ugh...

I’M SO FUCKING DONE AJKFHAKJBVAK- WE BEAT A HARBINGER AND FOR WHAT? she should’ve just tossed that gnosis into the ocean or smth...

HAH OMG SCARAMOUCHE. WHAT A MAN. I’M- I WAS RIGHT OMG. I HAD A LIL THEORY AND ITS JUST SMTH I HAD IN THE BACK OF MY MIND. I NEVER THOUGHT IT’LL ACTUALLY COME TRUE DEAR LORD. so now ig i have to admit i think abt him a lot and he has a soft spot in my heart 🥺 he’s evil you see and you know what my type is? evil men or at the very least, men with the potential to be evil. ugh so annoying.

scaramouche banner when

bc i sold everything worthy of money in me (read as my organs) for albedo, i'll sell my soul for him how about that?

EYE- makoto huh… well… fuck…

it’s day 400 of being ayato less even if he’s like… teased a million of times (jk it’s like… a grand total of seven but thats still p high)

im so… sigh…

i wonder if i’m still alive by the time sumeru releases… at the very least, i know my brain wouldn’t be.

....we were literally a captain for like... one second. that is so sad.

[bruh-haikyuu]

REQUEST: Can you do a scenario where lev meets his s/o because she playing the piano or singing. Thank you. Love your writing.❤️

A/N: Thank you for requesting!! Ok Sasha storytime 😳😳 I used to be in a piano class since I was 5 (I quit, but I still play just for fun). And I joined this competition when I was 9 and got selected as one of the finalists - and I was so fucking surprised bc jesus, I play averagely for all I can say... I’m not the best, but I’m definitely not the worst. But there was this messed up system where more familiar faces/winners would definitely be chosen. And despite some other kids messing up a lot, the MCs removed me first bc “Sorry, no one knows you around here. You played better than some others, but maybe if you talked more, you could win. No one really wants a winner they’re not familiar with.” I couldn’t really say anything. I knew they were right. So I left with a Certificate of Participation and not even proof that the judges chose me as a finalist. THIS particular event got me so fucked up for so long that I tried to get myself sick/injured so that I wouldn’t have to go to my piano classes for 4 weeks straight. Eventually, I pulled out after my exam and started playing for myself, with the songs that I enjoy, whenever I want. So,,, fuck those MCs and my teacher, I’m a bad bitch you can’t kill me 😎 *plays Superbass by Nicki Minaj* FEM!READER BELOW

duende. | haiba lev

summary: in which lev has no sense of direction, but finds a lone sugarplum fairy along the way.

word count: 2438

warnings: none

(n.) the feeling of profound awe experienced when viewing a piece of art, watching a performance or listening to music that has deeply moved a person

It’s difficult to tell precisely... but Lev was definitely lost.

It wasn’t his fault the school had to be so large! What’s the point of having so much staircases when they weren’t going to lead to one conjoined hallway? It was like a maze, except Lev knew he wasn’t getting anywhere near a familiar area.

Crap! he cursed, pawing nervously at his empty pant pocket. I left my phone in the clubroom.

Light was already fading from the west-side window and he hadn’t come across anyone for the past 15 minutes. He recalled something Taketora said about a part of the school being dead deserted. Was this that place? He couldn’t tell.

He was getting impatient. If Lev didn’t hurry up and submit his additional worksheets to Sakamatsu-sensei before sundown, it was over. Goodbye to the club’s training camp. Goodbye to becoming the greatest ace Nekoma has ever had. Goodbye to everything he ever cared about.

Instinct taking over, he ran as fast as his legs could carry him and called out to the empty hallways for someone. Anyone. “Hello?! Sakamatsu-sensei...?!”

And when the vacant corridors replied back to him, Lev stilled, frozen.

“...Piano?”

Alisa had told him something about ghosts once. It was right after she’d gone out to watch some horror movie with her friends. Lev couldn’t remember exactly her words, but his sister had “slept” with her eyes open that night and he wondered if he should be taking her advice seriously.

But this didn’t sound like a ghost. Something that sounded so beautiful wouldn’t have any murderous intention behind it... right?

The melody reminded Lev of those old ballets his grandmother would play on TV when she visited. Every glissando a delicate spin by one of the performers, and every perky note a tiny leap. He could almost see them, those beautiful dancers, and Lev wondered—if he were to trace the music to its source, would he find a charming sugarplum fairy waiting for him?

His feet were already ahead of his thoughts. Lev couldn’t even tell where he was in the gallery of clubrooms. His senses of direction numbed, he relied on his ears and the sweet, sweet melody of the piano that was getting warmer. And warmer. Warmer.

Hot.

“Or...chestra Club?” he read out, the placard’s kanji wrapping itself around his head. Peering through the rectangular window of the doors, Lev zeroed in on the bareness of the room, save for the large grand piano settled in the center.

This is the place... right? he thought, retreating slowly. No one’s here.

Looking around for good measure, Lev scratched his head. Ah, geez, I don’t even know where I am anymore. He reconsidered throwing away his curiosity and return to his quest for the third year’s Teacher’s Room before his Biology teacher could scold him for his incompetence. But the little fluff of hair peeking out from behind the piano swayed him over and he didn’t even stop to think when he barged through the doors.

“Fairy!”

The girl who squeaked in shock really did convince Lev for a millisecond that she was a fairy. Straight out of that stage his TV had replayed for him. Tiny in stature, eyes shining like morning dewdrops and fingers pressed again the white keys, thin and graceful as if you were producing magic. All excluding the lack of a pair of shimmering wings sprouted on her back, you were an enigma in this barren universe.

“I’m human,” you said, voice like air. Breezing and pushing like wind.

Lev approached the center of the room, speculating if your glamour would disappear if he were to come closer. “T-That song you played. That was from a ballet, right?”

“It’s Tchaikovsky,” you replied bluntly, grinning. “I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before, can’t recall... We’re not too familiar, but you’re awfully rude for a first year, aren’t you? At least address me with the proper suffixes if you’re going to assume my species like that, Giant-kun.”

Speak for yourself! he thought, becoming more and more amused by this fanciful person. “I mean, you don’t look like a high school student either—”

You, completely ignoring him, returned your attention the piano, playing another song. This one faster, more fluid. Seeing your hands up-close, Lev eyed the muted details of your hand. A gentle blush on its skin, illuminated by the sunlight from the large window sitting ajar. His sister would kill to have a hint at your manicure routine.

So this is what a pianist’s hands looks like.

“Oh, I remember now,” hands coming to a rest on your skirt, the fairy girl turned to him, as elegant as ever. Now that the room was silent, there was a nervousness that lingered in the air. “You’re one of Kuroo’s boys, aren’t you?”

Hearing the familiar name of the no-nonsense captain of the Volleyball Club, Lev perked up, “You know Kuroo-san?”

“Of course, we’re in the same class after all.”

Same class. That would mean—no way!

“Y-you’re older than me?!”

You gave him a bright smile. Added to your fairy-like personage, Lev couldn’t help but to notice that this upperclassman of his was aware of his existence. There was actually a girl—who was awfully cute and just his type if he thought about it—in this godforsaken school who knew about Nekoma’s ‘ace’, Haiba Lev.

This was a dream, right? No, he shouldn’t be saying such a thing. In fact, Lev had gotten so engrossed in this reality that he didn’t realize how much he was staring into your beautiful face before you piped up again.

“Oh, it’s almost time for me to lock up. I forgot to ask, did you need anything when you came in here?”

Wait, what time is it?!

Lev let out a strangled noise between a dying boar and a tearful sob. Collapsing on the floor before his worried senpai, he squeezed the papers in his hand. Oh, it was over now. Over, over, over. Hello wretched make-up exam, goodbye glorious training camp...

Kneeling down next to him, you peeked at his wincing face. “H-hey, are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help?”

Raising his head to look into your swirling eyes, Lev pursed his lips. Damn, you were totally going to think he was uncool after this. Grabbing you by the shoulders, he lowered his head in a bow.

“Senpai, could you show me the way to the third year’s teacher’s room? I’ve got an assignment to submit before 5 pm and I don’t know where I am! Please, senpai, I need to—”

No more words were exchanged when you grabbed Lev’s collosal hands in your delicate ones and dragged him through the door. You sped and hurtled down the corridors, bringing him along with you in this strange joyride. It was a funny sensation, similar to being towed around a park by a wild dog on a leash—except you weren’t a dog, but simply a shorter person whose size reminded him a bit of Yaku-san...

“S-Senpai—?!” he wheezed out, long legs pedalling in front of him. For someone nearly half his height, you were really fast; he wondered if you should’ve went for the Track and Field Club instead of the Orchestra Club.

Just as he had thought of letting go before you became a physical hazard to him, you skid to a halt in front of a door. Panting, you smiled up at him. “Here we are. Y-You’re not late, right?”

Eyes darting between the doors to the teacher’s office and you, the burning intention of a hug fuzzed out Lev’s brain—unfortunately, that would have to wait until later. Shoving the door open, he dashed inside the near-empty office and handed over his pile of crumpled assignments to the jaded Sakamatsu-sensei, face red.

Filing through the papers, the Biology teacher griped. “Well, all the assignments I asked for you to do are here... I’ll inform the Volleyball Club supervisor that you’ll be able to join the training camp this weekend.”

Saved. He was saved.

Exiting the office, he bowed before you—his fairy godmother—and murmured. “Thank you, senpai! You saved my life... ”

“Y-You’re welcome,” you said. “But I don’t think I went as far as “saving your life”, um... what was your name?”

“Haiba! Haiba Lev. Thank you so much!”

When you giggled, Lev heard the choirs of angels fill his head. God, he really wanted to hug you, stuff you in his pocket and bring you home with him to coo at and cuddle.

“The pleasure is mine, Haiba-kun. You’re an interesting person, you know? I’m glad we met.”

Lev really felt like he’d won the lottery. Was this finally his chance? Was he going to get a super cute, older girlfriend before his intolerable seniors? Unthinkable! Yet here he was, indulging in the soft smile of Nekoma’s resident sugarplum fairy, as if his entire gag reel of clumsy flukes never existed.

“Ah! I forgot to lock the doors to the clubroom!” you yelped. Even in panic, Lev thought you looked cute. “It was nice getting to know you, Haiba-kun. The main staircase is right over there, so you’ll be able to get back without getting lost. Be safe!”

Before he could offer his hand in accompanying you—at least being next to you for as long as possible—you had already sped off into an indistinct corner, the amber light of sundown fading with your shadow. And once again, Lev was alone.

Damn. He didn’t even ask for your name.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

“You’re asking me... if I know a girl in my class called ‘Fairy-senpai’?”

The gaze in Lev’s green eyes were resolute. “Yes.”

Kuroo sighed, wiping off his sweat with a towel. Day by day, he swore, the first-years were getting more and more difficult to deal with. “Someone named Fairy who hangs around in that derelict part of the third floor sounds shady as hell. And what club did you say she was from?”

“Orchestra Club.”

“We have an Orchestra Club?”

Lev was getting nowhere with the rooster-headed captain; it was either that, or Kuroo was intentionally leading him to a dead-end out of sheer mischief. Anything could happen with him.

It had been a total of 18 hours since he’d last seen you, and Lev’s head had never felt any emptier. He’d startled his parents and Alisa enough by playing one of his grandmother’s ballet DVDs once he’d arrived home. But it wasn’t the same. Even the visual movements of the ballerinas and the skill of the ensemble didn’t amount to your solo rendition.

Yours was more natural, more sturdy. Something he could feel and see without opening his eyes or reaching out to it. Smitten with your performance, Lev slept that night, head filled with the thought of seeing you again, his little sugarplum fairy in the maze of doors and desolation. And maybe, he’d even get your number this time.

“She’s really good at the piano and has a twinkly smile. Fairy-senpai is a bit short too, really tiny,” Lev hesitated to continue, looking around for safety “... A bit like Yaku-san’s height.”

“What’s this I hear about my height? Hey, Lev! Why aren’t you practicing your digging receives?!”

Wincing at the stinging kick thrown at his back, Lev pouted miserably. Watching the poor behemoth being dragged away by the demonic upperclassman, an implausible feeling of pity struck through Kuroo, and he called out for the libero.

“A cute girl who looks like a fairy, can play the piano and is in the Orchestra Club? In our class?” Yaku repeated after Lev and Kuroo’s explanation. Tapping his chin in deep thought, he replied dubiously. “Doesn’t that sound a bit like L/N-san to you?”

“Ehh? L/N-chan can play the piano? I never knew that.”

Yaku clicked his tongue indignantly. “That’s because you barely talk to her. Maybe if you attended cleaning duty properly, you would’ve realized that when you’re paired up with her.”

The sound of his seniors bickering was already white noise to him. L/N. Repeating the syllables on his tongue, Lev tasted a sugary relish linger in his mouth. What a beautiful name. A fitting name, and suddenly, he already sensed that your first name would be just as wonderful.

“Though I’m impressed that you managed to get a full conversation out of L/N-san. Did you scare her or something?” Yaku snickered at Lev’s unappreciative scowl. “It’s just that L/N-san only says something when she’s required to. Otherwise... she’s really quiet. I’ve only heard her say ‘thank you’, ‘I’m sorry’, ‘yes’ and ‘no’ for the past three years, everything else we know about her comes from gossip.”

Lev’s chest swelled up and he smirked. “Maybe she likes younger guys like me.”

“I think she likes you because you’ve got nothing going on in your head at all,” the team captain scoffed attracting the giggles of his surrounding teammates. “You are right though, Lev. L/N-chan is a really cute person... I might get interested one of these days.”

“H-Huh?! C’mon, Kuroo-san! I’ve got dibs on her first!”

Nearly there, the captain thought. Lev’s ears were already burning red, a clear sign of his impulsive outburst. And when the timing was right, the Volleyball Club loved to use his recklessness for profit.

Crossing his arms in faux doubt, Kuroo shrugged. “I don’t know... I highly doubt you’ll attract her attention if you’re not even a regular on the team...”

Furrowing his brows deeply, Lev snatched a ball from the ground and stared deeply into the captain’s lacklustre eyes. “I-I’ll show you! I’ll become a regular on the team and the ace! That’s why I’m going to go practice right now, right, Yaku-san?!”

Even Yaku, completely amused and alarmed, had to do a double take. “R-Right... Do your best then.”

“I will!”

Chuckling at Lev’s shrinking back, Kuroo patted himself on the back for a job well done. Kenma, who had watched the entire nasty exchange go down, was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Weakly punching his childhood friend on his shoulder, he grumbled. “Great... Now that he’s fired up about some girl, he’ll keep asking me for more tosses. Kuroo, if I pass out because of your ‘encouragement’, you’re paying for my health insurance.”

Lev couldn’t hear the new conversation happening between the team’s setter and the captain, but that didn’t matter right now. He was going to practice, become better, then the best. Then ask you out, his sugarplum fairy in the third floor’s Orchestra Club clubroom. Lev felt invincible.

[photochoco]

Out in the Field (pt. 1)

Black Cauldron’s newest recruit learns the ropes. She hopes she isn’t in over her head!

Wisteria had always loved sleeping late. In a world where the night was eternal, and the city only had colored lights to indicate the time, it was easy to lose track. She often would stay up until the deep purples of “night” would slowly gradient into the bright yellows of “daytime”. People more or less adhered to the idea that yellow was for doing things and being awake, and purple was for sleeping. Though Wisty had found that the city came alive during the purple hours in a way it didn’t when the lights were yellow. She herself worked better during purple hours. 

But now, they looked more or less the same. Maybe the purples were a little darker, but Wisty didn’t realize just how much she’d miss them until she’d looked out her window. Monochrome, just like the inside of her colorful room. Had she known this would happen, she would’ve appreciated it all a lot more. She was glad the BC had told her to come in for her orientation when she felt ready. She had curled up on her bed and sobbed her guts out for what felt like hours. It hurt, not seeing any color. Sure, she could still see all the colors in her mind’s eye, but what was the point if she couldn’t see them with her real ones? Her real ones, which were now gaping, black voids. They didn’t even reflect light very much, which was probably the weirdest part. 

For the most part Wisty had stayed cooped up in her apartment, trying to figure out what to do with her artist career. She’d made her way to the BC a couple times to meet with Harvey, but most of her time was spent fighting off a creeping emptiness.

She put on her headphones, pulled out a few locks of hair on each side and looked herself over in the mirror. Perfect, coordinated, adorable. She adjusted her hood and took a deep breath. She forced herself to keep looking when all she wanted to do was shut her eyes.

You are okay.

In front of her apartment complex she wrestled on her roller blades, selected some music, and was off. The breeze as she skated along eased her mind some, and her favorite tunes in her ears eased it more.

She wondered if Harvey had finished designing it yet.

---

The bustling of activity in the cafe area of the Black Cauldron was the same as always, Cadets walking around and chatting with each other. Everyone stopped though, at the sound of something banging into the front door. A heartbeat later, Wisty practically rolled through the threshold, a pair of roller blades in her hand. “Sorry sorry! I didn’t mean to hit the door!”

“Now that’s what I call an entrance,” Bianca giggled, giving a wave. “You ready for your first day?” “As ready as I’ll ever be!” Wisty said, raising her arms in a stretch. “I hope I don’t cause too much trouble for y’all.”

A tall mage in a bunny mask rounded the corner, a giant calligraphy pen in his hands.

“Ah, perfect. I just finished the final adjustments to your weapon. Here.” Harvey held it out with both hands. Its tip gleamed of newly polished brass. Its long body was black and smooth as Wisty took it in her hands. It was-

“It’s perfect!” she nearly squealed in her excitement. Harvey gave a satisfied nod. “Aaaand here are your ink canisters. I took the liberty of filling them up for you already. And here are the colors in powder form, just add water. Once you run out I can make more for you. And the colors are in the order you requested so you can easily pick them without seeing the hue. There should be enough ink to last you a whole fight, but don’t y’know, go painting the entire city.”

Wisty hugged her pen and ink pack tightly to her chest like a child being gifted a new toy. “I love it I love it I love it!!” she exclaimed, hopping up and down.

Harvey’s bunny mask was stuck in a perpetual grin, but Wisty could glean from his body language that he was quite pleased with his handiwork. “You’ll get a chance to try ‘em out today during your sparring.” “My what?” “Sparring!” Bianca appeared out of nowhere and slung an arm around Wisty’s neck. “You said you don’t have a whole lot of fighting experience yeah? Plus like Harvey said, you’ll totally wanna try out your weapon before heading out there, see whatcha can do!” “Okay…” Wisty said slowly. “But who am I gonna be sparring?” It was then she was lifted bodily off the ground by an enormous hand, which wrapped around her middle as easily as if she were a doll. 

“That would be me, cupcake. You should get a feel for what it’ll be like fighting powerful enemies with a lot of physical strength.” “As ya probably know, ghouls are usually witch cronies, doin’ their dirty work. Not the smartest, but really damn strong,” Bianca added. 

“...Did you just call Pinprick stupid? That’s not very nice!” “Oh no, cupcake, she is mostly right. Being turned into a ghoul scrambled my brains, hehehe,” Pinprick replied with a wide smile. Wisty paused to consider this. “...Still! Be nicer to yourself! I’m fairly sure you’re not stupid.”

“My oh my, what a sweet cupcake you are! But no time for chatter, we must be off to the sparring spot!” 

“Oh cool!” Wisty looked down to be put down. “Where is it?” “Near the outskirts of the city,” Pinprick replied as he squeezed through the small doorframe. “Oh, are we gonna walk?” 

“Nope!” Bianca said, walking up behind them and jumping onto Pinprick’s other arm, balancing herself against his shoulder. “Rooftop hopping is much faster. Observe!” Pinprick bent his legs.

“Wha aaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA--”

---

“Here we are!” Pinprick chirped, letting go of Wisty. “Go stand over there, and we can get started. Oh before you do though…” He held his hand out to Bianca, who placed something in his palm. He then tossed it to Wisty, who caught it. 

“All Cadets carry these bracelets. They’re a magic disrupter, placing them on witches or ghouls disrupts their flow of magic to incapacitate them. But of course, they don’t always do the job, so you all need to know how to fight,” he explained. “That one is just a dummy bracelet of course, completely harmless.” “How does it work?” Wisty asked, looking at the bracelet curiously. “Is it like a taser in bracelet form?”

“Correct! Today, you’re gonna try to get that bracelet on me. Get that bracelet on, and we can call it a day. Unless you get it on real quick though!” Pinprick snickered.

“Oh, you won’t need to worry about that…” Wisty mumbled.

“Chin up, cupcake, back straight! Cuz here I come.”

“Ok so what--” Her words were cut off as Pinprick’s arm shot towards her at an alarming speed.  “ShiT!!” Wisty barely had time to dodge out of the way, one of Pinprick’s fingers clipping her cheek. 

Geezus, he’s fast!! She hopped backwards, trying to gain some distance between them. He lunged towards her again, arm outstretched to grab her. Gripping her pen, Wisty rammed it against his arm, knocking it off course. She barely had time to feel even an inkling of triumph before she was slammed into the ground and pinned there by his other hand. “Not a bad start, cupcake. But you’re gonna have to do better than that,” Pinprick crooned. “HhHhhhffffiiiihhhhhhhhne,” Wisty wheezed. “Le’go please my lungs hhhhh-”

Pinprick let her go and she stood up, wincing. Dude could pack a punch. “Ready? Again.” He lunged.

She dodged and slid underneath him, bashing the end of her pen into where she thought the back of his knee was. She must’ve struck true; the giant ghoul kneeled with a small grunt. Wisty yelped in surprise as his entire upper half pivoted to face her. “Surprise!” Wisty barely managed to bend out of the way of his swipe. Noticing the ridges on his arm, she grabbed one and swung herself up onto his shoulders. Pinprick bucked, trying to throw her off. She impulsively grabbed the first thing she could, his hair. “Sorry sorry sorry!” she yelped as she reached for the bracelet.

Her apology was answered by Pinprick grabbing her ankle and yanking her off. Upside-down, she could see Bianca ambling up to the scene, a burger in her hand.

“Howzit goin’?” she asked. “Pinprick is killing the shit out of me, so I’ve come to the conclusion that I will absolutely die if I go fight anything,” Wisty grumbled as she dangled from Pinprick’s hand. He snickered in response. “Hey, don’t feel too bad, this is only a baseline! Imagine how good you’ll be after me ‘n Nate ‘n Dex have taught ya!” Bianca said.

“Hopefully it’ll be a less shameful display than this,” Wisty replied as Pinprick idly swung her from side to side like a pendulum.

“Ready whenever you are, love,” he grinned widely.

“I yield.” Wisty’s legs were far past beginning to wobble. Now she could hardly keep herself upright. Pinprick was not only stupidly fast, but stupidly powerful. He absorbed all of her attacks like they were nothing and dished out brutal counters one after the other. Wisty had been reduced to blocking and dodging. At least she could safely say she was better at that now.

Pinprick raised his hands again in preparation, grinning still. “We’re only getting started, love!”

“What even determines if I’ve won anymore?!” “Simple! Immobilize me and get the bracelet on, and we can call it a day.” “Okay.” “With me at least!” “OH SCREW OOOOOOFF WITH THAT!! I’LL FRIGGIN DIE IF I FIGHT ANYONE ELSE!”

“What’s happening?” Bianca turned and gave a nod of greeting to Dex, who had strolled up to the scene and was now watching with interest.

“The newbie is getting broken in,” she said, cringing as Pinprick sent Wisty flying again. “I think she’s doing...okay…” Dex smirked. “Sure doesn’t look like it, hehe.” “Hey, go easy on her dude, she just started today! I’ve been watching the whole time, I can tell you she’s gotten a lot better already. Aw geez,” Bianca winced as Pinprick threw a punch that caught Wisty on her right cheek, resulting in her swearing loudly. “Remember your safe word!” Dex shouted to her. “My WHAT? PINPRICK YOU CHEATER, YOU NEVER TOLD ME ABOUT THAT!!” The ghoul only cackled in response. “You never asked about it, cupcake!” “OF COURSE I DIDN’T, I’M NEW HERE! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO TELL ME!” Wisty screeched.

As Pinprick rushed her again, she didn’t wait. This time she lurched to meet him, jumping in the air and landing an impressive high kick on Pinprick’s chin. “Close!!” Dex shouted. “Keep trying--oof, that looked like it hurt.” 

Pinprick had slugged Wisty full force in the torso, and the girl skidded several yards away and hit some nearby boxes, sending dust everywhere. “I’ll go get the nurse bed ready,” Bianca sighed, turning to head back to the Black Cauldron.

Was Pinprick just that strong? Or did she just suck that bad? Wisty coughed on the clouds of dust filling the air. Fine. Fine.

Fine.

She reached behind herself to her ink cartridges. One, two, perfect.

“Yo Pinprick! Did you kill her, man?!” Dex called to his comrade. “Ahoho, I certainly hope not, we were having so much fun!” Before he could say anything more, though, a thin jet of orange ink fired from the dust cloud. The instant it made contact with the ground, it triggered a huge explosion. “HOLY FUCK!!!” Dex hollered as Pinprick skidded backwards, blinking in surprise.

“Oho, it seems the newbie has a few tricks up her sleeve! Good, good!” he laughed. The dust was settling, and now he could see Wisty standing with her back nearly against the brick wall. Just...standing there. “Oh come now love, you can’t be that tired already! You’re leaving yourself...wide! Open!” Pinprick sprinted forward and thrust his left arm out. Wisty swiftly jumped to the side, his right, and he attempted to grab her again, this time with his right hand. She ducked again, resulting in both Pinprick's hands smashing into the wall, sending pieces of brick flying. Wisty took aim with her pen, and fired. Black ink streamed from the tip and coated Pinprick’s hands. His first instinct was to tug--

And they didn’t budge. The ink was like tar.

“What in the--” his words were cut off as Wisty grabbed his arms, flipped herself up onto his shoulders and, using him as her own personal launching pad, leapt up into the air. She shoved another cartridge into her pen and aimed. “Gotcha.” Orange ink streamed. Pinprick was caught in a massive explosion. Dex shielded his face as the heat wave slammed into him. 

“Jeezus God, what the hell did Harvey put in those inks??” he muttered to himself.

As the smoke cleared, he could see Pinprick, still standing, his hands free from the black ink, but looking significantly more banged up. 

“Yeowzers,” Dex trotted up next to the ghoul to get a closer look at the damage. “That was pretty awesome. Might cause some property damage, though.” “But really, when don’t we cause just a little property damage?” Pinprick pointed out, dusting himself off. 

“Wait...where’d Wisteria go?” 

“Hmm...did she get blown away from the explosion…?” Pinprick mused. “She was right--”

His entire body was knocked to the ground as Wisty dropped down from above onto him. Dex barely managed to jump out of the way with a squawk. 

“You little--” Pinprick hissed, but the girl had a firm grip as she snapped the bracelet around his neck. 

“Friggin...got it...Geezus…” she huffed.

She slid off Pinprick as he straightened himself up, looking very pleased.

“Well well well, color me surprised, cupcake! You were quite clever to coax me into getting my hands stuck to the wall. So, orange ink makes explosions, hmm?”

Wisty twirled a lock of her hair looking sheepish, but very happy with herself. “Hehehe, to be honest, while designing my weapon and the ink color effects, I’d asked Harvey which effects each of you guys were resistant to or weak against. Y’know, in case I lend you a hand out in the field. I want to make sure I don’t accidentally hurt one of you.”

Dex let out a whistle. “Damn, you might even give witches a run for their money with smarts like that. But for now, howsabout we get you back to BC? You look like you’re gonna collapse. Your cheek ain’t lookin so good either.” Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, throbbing aches began to make themselves known all over Wisty’s body. Her right cheek really, really hurt, and she gingerly pressed her fingers against it, wincing as the swollen flesh protested.

“Do forgive me for goin’ so hard on you cupcake. Needed to make sure you were prepared; out there, it could be even more dangerous.” Pinprick reached out and ruffled Wisty’s hair, wiggling her whole head back and forth.

“You two got pretty banged up. How about we head back to BC to getcha patched up?” Dex jerked his thumb back to his bike, which was parked nearby. 

“See ya back at BC, cupcake. And you too, Dex,” Pinprick wiggled his fingers in farewell.

“Awwwww C’mon Pin, aren’t I a cupcake too?” Dex asked, his puppy-dog voice belied by the shit-eating grin on his face.

“Absolutely not! Go on now, I’ll see you two back there!” With a mighty leap, Pinprick was off, hopping from roof to roof with ease. Within no time at all he was out of sight. Wisty slumped. “Urgh, I barely hurt him at all. Look at him doin’ parkour shit while I can barely stand--” Right on cue, her legs buckled. She was saved by Dex, who swooped down and grabbed her under the arms.  “Tracy will get you all fixed in no time. Pinprick only went so hard on you because he felt you had potential you were holding back. His method of bringing it out is to hit as hard as he can, hehe. You seem promising, rookie. I’ll have to be extra careful when we fight.” “You use GUNS.” “In the field! Sparring I use blanks. And my lithe body.” Wisty burst out laughing as Dex helped her to the bike. “You guys are merciless! I don’t wanna do anything until I’m not hurting everywhere.” 

“Nothin’ a lil magic n’ a hot bath can’t fix. Aight, get on the back,” Dex said, turning the key in the ignition. “DeeDee likes to go fast, so you might wanna hold on.”

“Okay...uh where…” Wisty hesitantly gripped Dex’s shoulders. 

“Here we go!” The bike flared to life and Dex squeezed the handle.

The inertia as they took off was unexpected and Wisty had to momentarily throw her arms around Dex’s middle to keep from tumbling off the back. But soon enough her hands were back to his shoulders as they drove along, buildings and power lines passing by in a blur.

It was exhilarating. 

“Not too fast for ya, newbie?” “It’s awesome! I love going fast!” “Heh, hang on then!”

Wisty closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose, lost in the music from her headphones and the feeling of the wind as they drove along. This was giving her an idea for… She opened her eyes. Ah. Right. What she would’ve given to see what this all looked like in color. The blurred buildings. The bright moon. Dex’s scarf as it fluttered and danced behind them. He had told her it was red, but what shade of red? What shade were her inks? What if she forgot the colors she knew? Her mouth twisted as tears again stung her eyes. Not that any would fall, the wind was drying them up. 

“Hey just so ya know, you might wanna actually hang on to my middle or else you’ll fall off!” Dex called over his shoulder.

“What?” Wisty shouted back right before they went over a bump. She yelped and clung to Dex again. He snorted.

“Soooooo, have you thought about partnering up with anyone?” he asked her. “Uh...no, not really.” “Would you like to? Newbies usually tend to, though I don’t think Alphus ever did, heh.” “I dunno. I mean, I...” The truth was, she’d loved to partner up with someone. Maybe then she could stop that cycle of loneliness before it even started. 

But… “--It’d be nice to have someone show me the ropes!” 

What kind of person just went around telling others how they struggled with loneliness and just wanted to be included? It wasn’t their problem. It was hers, and she didn’t need to be included just so as to not be rude. Even if it hurt, a lot. Still… Please let this be different. Don’t let this be a repeat of every time I’ve tried to join a group. 

Her grip tightened. If Dex noticed, he didn’t say anything as he rounded a corner hard, tires screeching. 

“Y’know, you should really wear a helmet, especially driving like this!” “Naaahhhh, I’m too cool for one!” “No one is too cool for head safety, my dude.”

“This hair is!”

He weaved easily in and through the crowd. Wisty could see people staring as they flew by. What a strange pair they must look, a boy with glowing white eyes and a girl with black voids for hers. If they could even see them. “...Hehehe.” 

Wisty stood up suddenly, her arms spread wide. “Whooooooo!!!” “WISTERIA SIT DOWN! You’re gonna fall off!”

“My balance is really good!” 

Luckily for her, and Dex’s blood pressure, the Black Cauldron was within sight now. He pulled into the corner and Wisty hopped off as he turned his bike off. “That was awesome! Can we do it again sometime?” she asked excitedly.

Dex twirled the keys around his index finger. “Sure! If you can beat me when we spar.” “Oh--that is so unfair!! I can’t do that, change your conditions you meanie!” 

“Take it or leave it, sweetheart!” Dex smirked. 

“The only thing I’m taking is a nap, cuz--” Wisty’s legs gave out from under her. “Everything is hurting right now.”

“Let’s get you to Tracy, rookie.”

--- ---

And then Wisty slept for 44 years, content that her character arc was beginning. The lil spinoff series continues! What awaits the newbie? Probably a coupla witches and sprayin’ ink everywhere.

[keepyourpantsongohan]

Ayesha Liveblogs Naruto Shippuden S20 (Pt. 4)

Hashirama’s “:O” face at everything is so endearing

Hagoromo is now really the time for a family story there are three children and a sad old man in need

“It was a few thousand years ago” Zetsu just said it was 1,000 years ago how bad are you guys at telling time 

I wonder how Hashirama feels about Madara being his Soulmate™

“I want make sure [the Tailed Beasts] don’t fight amongst each other, and that people don’t use their powers for evil” better 2 have tried and failed I guess 

“That’s because a toad’s dream is destiny” weird flex but ok

“So then, will everything I do now be meaningless?” “Don’t waste your time worrying” Ffgkjhfgkjh damn I didn’t ask for a lecture on fatalism in my Naruto liveblog

Lmao @ this dude revealing his thievery scheme after talking to Hagoromo for 0.5 seconds what makes him think everyone will be on board with it 

“I only want you to go away as soon as possible” ah looks like Hagoromo made a friend lmao 

“If we make it too sturdy, you’ll break your bones when you try to destroy it” they actually did a really good job of making Hagoromo charming like consider me charmed I wanna hear abt ur ninja way

Hahahah I admire Futami for not bringing up the horns for the entire length of time it took them to build the bridge 

Futami: Hagoromo-sensei gave me a high-five one time and it touched my heart so I formed a cult around him

Wait if Hagoromo only gave 8 disciples chakra are the nine of them together responsible for fathering all the shinobi world what kind of Gengis Khan fuckery

Minus the Hyuga, who, for some reason are moon aliens, I guess

“Throughout this long history men appeared, one after another, with the desire to use the tailed beasts for their own evil purposes. And that turned the tailed beasts against mankind. Anyway, back to my story.” Hahahaha did Hagoromo just go “(A/N: Fuck Obito and Madara lol)”

Unbelievable you’re telling me there was someone who wanted to get with this old man with horns and three eyes who leads a cult and you won’t show me WHO where is the justice 

OH HEY FUTAMI HELPING RAISE THE KIDS I GUESS? WILD

Mmmm I love Ashura already 1000/10 endearing impulsive baby

Some filler storyboard artist who I respect beyond reason: But what if... we added.... a dog

“It might even be bigger than yours” please don’t tell me they fished Zetsu out of the river

"I didn’t realize you thought so deeply about [chakra being used as a weapon]” “Yeah, well” “But then again, what will be, will be” what kind of parenting is this Hagoromo kjhgkjhgkjhg

Indra, 10 years old: I am concerned about the ethical impact of my innovation

Hagoromo: YOLO, son ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“I’ll be watching you” Is that the voice of......... Pubescent Zetsu 

LMAO IT IS

These kids are really emotionally unprepared for the boar considering they were following boar tracks into the woods 

ARE YOU SHITTING ME THEY EVEN USED THE SAME FILLER DOG NAME LMAO WHO IS WRITING THIS 

I CANNOT BELIEVE THEY KILLED THE DOG I’M SO MAD

Wow @ them having Indra invent chidori instead hkjhgkhg poor Kakashi

Indra awoke his sharingan over losing his dog I cannot believe this how are dogs the central plot device of multiple arcs

“Whatever is in this village belongs to everyone - that’s the law” wow along with fatalism this arc is also teaching us about the practical failings of communism 

“The law is still the law” where’s the post that says Sasuke is ethnically a cop. Because that’s this arc

Not 2 be that gal again but Indra’s voice is also nice on the ears he has inherited his grandmother’s kekkei genkai of having an attractive voice and a terrible moral compass

...............kekkei grandma 

“Looking into his eyes reminds me of my mother’s eyes” I was kind of joking about the kekkei grandma thing but fair

“At that moment I felt that I understood for the first time why heaven had blessed me with two sons” have you ever considered your eldest son is mean in part because you make comments like this 

“What will the two of you do when you are out in the world alone” wow Hagoromo is giving his kids some kind of High-Stakes Bell Test 

Hahaha I like Taizo I hope they don’t do anything to him but they probably will because he’s had so much screen time

HAHAHAHA I LOVE THIS SQUAD it’s the first ninja team and the boy is the healer!!!

Ashura: OH NO I’VE FORGOTTEN HOW TO GENJUTSU

Kanna and Taizo: WE GOT U BUDDY WE GOT BATS

I thought I was going bananas for a sec but the intro did change lol 

Poor Tenzo I think he’s been officially discarded from OPs RIP

Side note: Having a Naruto blog has made me so wary of Kakashi and Sakura standing next to each other I don’t trust the ppl on this website to be normal for a second RIP x2

“They’ll suffer, sure, but everyone dies eventually” okay calm down Taizo

“It doesn’t matter whether it’s possible or not, because I’ve decided to do it” I admire Ashura’s blind optimism lmao

Not to poke too many holes but why would the water in the well not be affected by the Divine Tree

I take my comment about healing back ludicrously all the men get to display chakra natures and the women can only display glowing yin chakra hands booooo

Omg there is a Tenzo after all in an ED at least!! This is the first time I’ve seen all three members of the Naruto’s Dad Association in one place!!! Bless up

A shot of them standing all together!!!! My heart!!!!!!!!

SASUKE AND NARUTO’S GRINS AT EACH OTHER I WEEEP

[Hagoromo as Kakashi voice]: TEAMWORK!!

I was very much expecting Indra to go crazy and kill those two guys but wow that was a scene

“Enough to make you fall in love with him and follow him all the way here” At least Ashura gets like a real wife instead of Hagoromo’s ‘ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ she dead’

Hagoromo: Indra’s a dick because his eyes are red trust me it has nothing to do with my parenting I’m a chakra scientist

“Indra, just what is the meaning of this” it’s a temper tantrum lmao

Was it really necessary to kill both of those guys Indra one best friend death usually suffices for mangekyo my dude

Minato joining Kakashi in the club of Boyz Who Jutsu Was Plagiarized

Hagoromo really has absolutely zero hesitation to attack his son and you wonder why Indra has a complex

“THIS IS THE POWER OF OUR BOOOOOND” he said, as he punched his brother in the face with a thousand wooden hands (mood)

Indra’s Lightning Teleportation Jutsu is really doing The Most the Raikage is not nearly this dramatic about it 

Can you... just.... declare that your soul will be reincarnated? Is that how that works? 

Also. Who slept with Indra?! U made him out to be like. Very Not Okay. But he’s the forefather of the Uchiha?? WHERE ARE THESE CHILDREN COMING FROM TELL ME WHO IS BANGING THIS OUT OF CONTROL FAMILY

Hahahahaha I’M SO READY FOR THIS RIDICULOUS TEAM 7 TRYING TO UNMASK KAKASHI EPISODE BRING IT THE FUCK ON

I knew the Sukea voice would be different but omg I’m still thrown

“S-kay-a” is really not how I thought that would be pronounced wow 

“If I’m able to capture this Kakashi guy without a mask on, it’ll be the biggest scoop since the Leaf was established” a little arrogant Kakashi but okay kjhgkjhgkjhgjhg

This is such an adorable and weird bonding exercise of Kakashi teaching his kids how to break into Konoha’s archives I’M WHEEZING

I would pay money to see Kakashi explain what he was doing to all those dudes in ANBU who probably thought he was intimidating as all fuck catching him a wig with three twelve-year-olds breaking into his own file

“Who cares what I look like anyway!” THIS IS SO DUMB I LOOOOVE IT

“I think that a woman might’ve drowned right over there on the river bank” HINATA!!!!! UR TOO NICE TO BE ENLISTED INTO THIS SCHEMING HAHAHA

Oh I remember seeing reference to this scene booooo do they really have to make it weird all the time

This concept is even MORE ridiculous in the show bc it expands beyond Team 7 to all the other Konoha rookies like Kakashi how much do u enjoy teasing the children that this is how you’re spending your day

HAHAHAH Kakashi is lucky that the person who knows him best has face blindness and can’t call him out for his schemes 

Okay not to betray my own brand but ᵏᵏᵍᵃᶦ ᶜᵘᵗᵉ

They really designed a nicer apartment for Kakashi just so they could animate his silhouette in the shower STUDIO PIERROT PLEASE

Fhkjhkjfhkjhkf that last scene made me so uncomfortable I don’t really like seeing Kakashi’s mouth while he talks it’s weird

You know I spent a lot of this interlude chanting main arc main arc in my head but alas now that we have arrived I’ve remembered that the war arc climax is a mess

“If my chakra runs out, I’m done” seriously Obito.......... how are you here

Can you imagine if Naruto actually died.... what would that even mean for this series I can’t imagine 

“I already marked this space, so I can hide out in my time-space” I want to know how Obito “marks a space” is it like a jutsu or does he just have to nod at it and go “my space now”

 I would also pay money to see what Obito and Sakura talked about when they had to hang out in Kamui for a solid two minutes lmao 

“So you’re friends with sensei huh?” “Yeah it’s complicated but I think we’re cool now” “Yeah, same with us and Sasuke” “Sorry about that” “I don’t forgive you but thanks”

“You alright?” define ‘alright’ but also Obito’s never been alright a day in his life, Sakura 

Uh oh foreshadowing to the heavy gravity space where Obito d*es

Okay maybe this is the part of me that is still clings to their Part I friendship but Sasuke helping Sakura stand really brings out my inner soft bitch

 “It would’ve been helpful if we could’ve received this advice a bit earlier” Tobirama’s bitter about sitting through five episodes of filler

Tobirama: Why haven’t u been helping this whole time

Hagoromo: It all comes down to Madara’s magic pelvis—

“This man lent me his power and that’s why we were able to get here” does Sakura not know Obito’s name either khgkjhgjkgh

How many times will we watch these same two flashbacks of Obito’s life

Looks like Kakashi brought a knife to a taijutsu fight LMAO

God Rin is such a good friend to Obito and he repays her by literally defacing her grave 

“Am I powerless to do anything but sit here and watch” it’s not really your fault you can’t fly Kakashi tho u could try throwing some kunai or smth ur not a one sharingan pony

Ddkjhsdkjhd why does Obito get a line worrying about Naruto’s death but Kakashi doesn’t he’s spent the past two days trying to kill Naruto

I’m still emo abt Kakashi trying to die for Sasuke that’s his soooon

“Rin... this time, let’s spend some alone time together, just you and me” Why phrase it like that, Obito

"Why save someone useless like me” Kakashi get some therapy

“A fool full of only mistakes” it’s hard to disagree with Zetsu when they’re flashing back to every mistake Obito has ever made

Where’s the graphics set where Obito goes ‘admittedly I lost my cool here’ because that’s what that flashback was 

Update: found it

“Don’t cry, Obito, you’ll just get laughed at” this fantasy is an indication that Obito has no real comprehension of how fucked up Kakashi was by Rin’s death

Can you believe that Rin still dies in Obito’s jonin AU like....what. It’s not even like “AU of what I want” it’s like “AU where I learn how to cope with trauma” 

Also was this just an out for not designing an adult Rin bc he’s been thinking about Rin endlessly for like three episodes straight so..... what up with that

It’s still so fucking funny that Iruka’s in Obito’s jonin fantasy like when did they meet did he just absorb secondhand Iruka appreciation from Naruto 

“But, if you screw up, I won’t hesitate to step up as a candidate for Hokage myself” yesssssssss let Kakashi be the playful menace he truly aspires to be

Gjghjkhgjhg Obito’s “euuuuuuuuehhhh” when the paperwork dropped was funny

Sasuke’s face when Sakura punched Naruto was also v funny 

Honestly to be real for a second Obito imagining himself as buddies with Team 7 makes me mad u’ve done nothing but make these kids’ life TERRIBLE until today babysitting license REVOKED!!!!!!

Am I a hypocrite for enjoying AUs ft. Obito? Mayhaps!!!

“You told me that saving you was pretty much the same as saving the whole world, remember?” (Well.)

“I’d say, you did your best” You know that post that said it makes sense that Rin said this bc she’s a Scorpio. I’m still upset about it

You know... Naruto’s “the coolest guy” (“nothing but awesome”) comment about Obito is a direct parallel to “Bravest man I ever knew” in HP and that’s why, if I were to meet either adult man, I would dropkick both of them. In this essay I will—

“It’s kind of annoying seeing [Kakashi] all stiff and useless” u right Obito

Kishimoto pick up the phone I just want to talk about that rabbit bijuu design 

“A Susano’o? But whose?” DAD’S HEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRE

Kakashi with Six Paths Power REALLY feeds into my theory that Kakashi is Hagoromo’s transmigrant 

THAT’S MY TEAM READY TO SAVE THE WORLD TOGETHER!!!!!

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 KAKASHI GETS HER VULNERABLE AND THEN THE BOYS ATTACK WHILE KAKASHI GUARDS THEIR BACKS AND SAKURA FORCES HER INTO PLACE THIS IS WHOLEASS TEAMWORK

“I really love you guys” YEAH HE DOES 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Okay arc over haha right guys we’re good now RIGHT GUYS??

In part, Kakashi jumping around to save his students feels very much reminiscent of Part I’s “MY SENSEI SENSES ARE TINGLING” swoop and scoop that he and Gai loved to do

Lmao @ Kaguya spitting Madara out like he’s a bad-tasting vegetable

Coming up with an OP specifically for VOTE2 is so extra but I kind of love it the Diver parallels!!!!

Sasuke is SUCH a liar abt his attitude towards Team 7 - more specifically towards Sakura and Kakashi bc he has already granted that he cares for Naruto

Sasuke: Comrades? I don’t know her

Also Sasuke: Constantly urging Sakura and Kakashi to get to safety and actively intervening when they’re not

“Honestly at this point I don’t think anything could shock me anymore” Sakura really needs a hug and a nap

“I shall be sure to ask Obito tell me that tale in the afterworld” the real question is if Obito will still look 12 when he takes Hagoromo on the harrowing journey that is his life

Kakashi truly has endless love in his stupid ass heart Obito’s like, “Hmmm... whoops sorry 4 committing mass murder” and Kakashi’s like “Hehe, we all mess up sometimes :) See u in heaven”

Madara and Hashirama really did invent being in gay love huh

WOW I WAS NOT EXPECTING TO TEAR UP BUT KJHFKJHFKJH MY BABY BOY SAYING GOODBYE TO HIS DAD HE IS THE WORLD’S BIGGEST SWEETHEART

“You’ve now finally settled things with Madara” Tobirama has been waiting for like a hundred years for his brother to get over his ex

Hagoromo: Naruto’s your new conference room congrats kids 

Mmmmm I don’t like aaaaannnnnny of this

“You’re suggesting that I enjoy a roooOoomance” why say it like that Sasuke

I genuinely think this is the maddest that Kakashi’s ever been at Sasuke that boy is very, very grounded

“I, too, had two children at one time” OMG KAKASHI OFFICIALLY DESIGNATED TEAM 7 DAD BY HAGOROMO (ur miscounting tho Kakashi actually has four (4) children)

“I think I shall let Naruto handle this” said Hagoromo, and everyone who encountered any problem in this series ever

I’m very distracted from Sasuke’s dictatorship speech by the fact he looks so much like an alien. What is UP with his eyes they never look like this???? Why are they so far apart and narrow and angled

“Your blood will be the last that I shed” what r u just gonna keep genjutsuing ppl Sasuke? Could just keep the Tsukuyomi on then, homie

It also plays into the Hagoromo and Kakashi are related (spiritually or literally) that Hagoromo is equally as useless with advice to him lmao

Kakashi: What should I be doing, sir?

Hagoromo: Sometimes I like to pray :) 

Fjkkjgkjhgkjhk Sasuke claiming that Naruto is his only bond never ceases to amaze me like Sakura and Kakashi are RIGHT THERE ghkjhgkjhgkj u have been protecting them this whole time while they shout how much they care abt u. Just admit u have a crush on Naruto and go!!!

“I know your heart well by now. And you mine” Sasuke u unintentionally romantic dumbass

“Finally decided to kill me, huh,” said a thrilled Sasuke, taking a lesson from the Kakashi School of Very Much Needing Ninja Therapy

This entire fight is the Life or Death equivalent of this tweet:

Lmao one of these boys lost a tooth I want to know which of them has a dental implant 

Omg............... Iruka what is going ON.... u are suddenly v pale and also I think ur VA might be different could they not get the same Iruka or has he just forgotten how Iruka sounds

It was real unclear until this fight that Sasuke had any of the same powers as Nagato

“Now I can finally be alone... farewell, my one and only... friend” again... Sasuke... u can be in love with Naruto and still have other friends!!!!!!! Ask Naruto he has tons of friends he’s not in love with*

*Disclaimer: they are all in love with him

The idea that everyone Naruto’s ever cared about is spiritually trying to help him kick Sasuke’s ass is p funny

“Sakura and Kakashi are still there, they’ll figure something out” cute that you have such an assload of faith in your loved ones in ur life-flashing-before-you moment Sasuke but with what jutsu lmao

“I began to see a shadow of my own family in Squad 7″ YEAH HE DID  😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

I still can’t believe that Kishimoto really wrote that all it took for Sasuke to return to Konoha was Naruto explaining to him how love and empathy work 

Omg Sasuke laughing...... I missed your laugh you precious boy

“Release the infinite Tsukuyomi once I’m dead by transplanting my left eye into Kakashi or someone else” Fhjfhkfh it detracts a little from the significance of Sasuke offering his eye to Kakashi to add the “someone else” but I guess they gotta make the syllables match up

Why is every Uchiha’s long-term plan just to die before they have to deal with the consequences of their actions

“I’m sorry” “Sorry? For what” “For everything” “You got that right” Sasuke I think u need to treat all of ur teammates to ramen 

“It’s finally back to the way it was” Kakashi loooves his baaabies 

TENZOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO 

Omg they included Guren from the filler arc in this crowd hahahaha

Gaara and Naruto enveloped in that same beam of light like Kakashi and Tenzo in the Tsukuyomi kghjghkgh SP said gentle gay rights

“I’m forbidden to talk about it” Team 7 would RIOT if Sasuke was locked up in a cell like that fuck you

Hahahaha I wish I could see the scene where Kakashi and Iruka decided to ambush Naruto with study materials 

Okay this is definitely a different Iruka ahhhhh weird I don’t like it

Iruka bursting into tears whenever Naruto talks about his progress.... same

I 100% believe that the vast majority of the reason Kakashi became Hokage was to pardon Sasuke but also that prison scene still seems appalling to me STOP MAKING THINGS WORSE THAN THEY WERE SHOWN TO BE

"Maybe next time” is super funny in the context that he does take her on his next mission outside the village and comes back with one (1) whole baby

Sasuke’s introspection usually seems to amount to “Birth is a curse and existence is a prison... oh hey Naruto <3″ 

The moral of the story seems to be that the best way to show someone you love them in ninja language is by telling them you want to keep punching them for the rest of your life

[faemytho]

*silently drops request here for a drable on vampire goth and hunter pallete*

[ordinarily, i’d ask for a sentence, but holy shit i am,,, weak,,, for vampires,,, and mythology/urban legends involving them so fuck. goth is renamed shade and palette is renamed prism, and you'll see other names in there too, like, death is necrosis, ink is encre, and gradient is pente bc ofc im gonna use the versions i created for one of my own projects im that self indulgent haha and i will not mind if u ask me about it-]

Shade watched. And he waited. His stomach rumbled and he shushed it, eyes focused on the path beneath him. He could smell someone. He could hear their breathing, how panicked and shallow it was.

Someone stumbled through the undergrowth, tripping and falling to the ground with a small cry. They whimpered, but before they could pick themself up off the ground, Shade lunged for them, pushing them down into the ground. They screamed, thrashing under him, and he growled lowly.

“Hold still, or this will be painful.”

They went still, shaking slightly and whimpering, and Shade kept a strong hold on them, leaning down and pushing their head aside. They were a skeleton.

Shade bared his fangs, and then, without hesitating, sunk them into the skeleton’s neck.

They yelped, squirming underneath him as he fed, their movements slowly becoming weaker and weaker. When he pulled back and had his fill, they were oddly still.

“... Uh. Hello?”

When they didn't respond, he cursed under his breath. He might have actually drained them, oh stars he'd never done that before, and it was terrifying. Before climbing off them, Shade searched their sides for weapons, finding a couple stakes, silver bullets, and a gun. A hunter, then. Throwing them away, he picked up the mortal, and took off.

~~

“Lord Necrosis help oh my god what do I do I think I killed them-!” Shade wheezed, holding his latest victim in his arms. Now that they were in proper lighting, he could see their face better. Whoever they were, they had a yellow-green paint splatter marking their face.

Necrosis stared down at him with indifference.

“If you really care so much, then go take them to one of the maids. I think Hare has some medical experience, go talk to them.”

Shade nodded, then rushed off to go find the maid.

~~

“... My name is Prism. Why am I still alive?”

Shade stared at the skeleton in surprise.

“Would you rather me have left you to die?”

“Fair.”

Hare bowed their head to Shade and left, leaving them the only ones in the room. There was an awkward silence for a moment, before Shade sighed.

“May as well just ask. Are you a hunter? Because, uh, you aren't very good at it.”

Prism's eyes widened.

“Oh, no I'm not a hunter. I'm uh... I'm an artist? But I got separated from my mentor Encre and my artist buddy Pente when traveled out from the capital to the forest villages. So I uh, just carry some stuff on me for self defense.” He looked sheepish, scratching his neck, specifically, the two bitemarks that now resided there.

“Oh.”

Again, silence crept up on them.

“Hey do you... do you think I could stay here, whatever your name is? Just for a while at least.”

“Oh, uh, my name is Shade. I'm technically vampire nobility, though, there's supposed to be a 'Lord' title in front of that but eh. And I'll have to ask Lord Necrosis if you can. I'm sure he won't mind, though.” Shade gave Prism a small smile. It was returned.

“It's nice to meet you then, Lord Shade.”

“Likewise.”

~~~~

ok, like i said before, these are characters from one of my own projects that ive renamed, but they're still goth and palette don't worry yall

anyways here u go sorry it took so long