#just need to figure out how to write it

[pupwrites]

i just thought of the most perfect gareth ff ever and i’m chewing at the bars of my enclosure OH MY GOD 😩😩

[llamagoddessofficial]

LLAMAAAAAAAA

WRITE MORE ABT FARMER (when you get the chance ofc)

AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!!!!

Your life. Hand it over

---

It was the thickest rain you’d ever seen. It didn't fall like normal rain, it fell in layers, great arcs of water that thrashed the ground one after the other, stormy waves hitting a shoreline. The roar of it landing on the world around you was almost deafening - a problem, considering it was three in the morning, and you were walking in almost pitch black. Any other night you would’ve been guided through the seemingly-endless farmland by recognising the hedges and hearing the animals... right now, you were guided only by the weakened blueish light of your headlamp, and the best that your memory had to offer.

You spotted it, in the near distance. The tiny light of another lamp was flickering back and forth in the rain, moving with the speed and efficiency of a hard-at-work man who couldn’t wait to get out of the terrible weather and go back to bed. You quickened the pace, marching down the field, your waterproof pants were coated in cold mud up to the calves; you were glad you couldn’t feel it. The only wet part of you was your face, and hands - you needed the latter out to hold the big metal flask you were carrying.

You didn’t mind the wet and cold. You stomped on regardless. All you cared about was the sight of that head lamp, getting closer and closer in the relentless wind and rain. You could just about make out the things he was looking at, illuminated by his lamp... the part of the fence he was doing his best to repair.

Before you knew it, you were within shouting distance. But there was no point, he wouldn't hear you. A particularly strong gust rushed across the field, you felt a carpet of rain hit you in the back, and the wind shoved you ungracefully forward. You let out a little yelp but managed to stop yourself from falling over.

... You heard your name over the rain. He had noticed you. You looked up - his headlamp was angled slightly downward, rather than straight ahead, so it didn’t dazzle you like you expected it to. Sans was dressed in his usual farm gear, his heavy boots and thick waterproof pants, and the rain had washed his green jacket cleaner than you’d ever seen it before. His hood was pulled securely up over his skull and he had a fence post the size of you in one hand like it was nothing.

... And he was looking at like he’d seen a ghost. It was rather comical.

“There you are!” You picked up the pace for the last few steps, jogging over to him, before you finally came to a stop. Phew, you’d been walking for almost five minutes in the storm. It felt good to finally see him. Despite the cold, you were pretty flushed from the exercise, hot under the combination of your sweater and coat.

“what the hell are you doing out here?” His green eyelights glowed under his hood, like two soft fireflies, a much more pleasant colour than the cold lamplight both of you were bathed in. It was as if only the two of you existed in the whole world... two headlamps in an endless sea of dark and wind and water. “it’s two in the morning,”

“Three, actually,” you chirped. It was somewhat hard to hear him over the rain hitting your hood, but you just stood a little closer to him. Your hurried breaths formed clouds, you could see them in the combined lamp glow.

He put down the fence post. It dropped with an heavy thunk. “did papyrus send you?”

You just held the big metal flask out to him. It had a black strap attached to the side of it that was sodden by now. He accepted it, seemingly out of instinct, staring down at it before glancing back up to you.

“... uh... thanks. what is it?”

“Soup!”

He blinked. “soup?”

“Yeah. I woke up to the rain, and I figured you’d be out here, because you’d mentioned the fence needed fixing properly before the storm hit." You pulled your coat sleeves over your now-free hands. "Though I did ask Papyrus if you’d actually headed out before I left. I’m not that crazy.”

He was still staring. The rain continued to roar, you had really hoped it would've eased up by now. But it seemed to be only getting worse. Probably for the best Sans was repairing the fence now, before everything completely flooded come morning.

“I know, I know," you continued when he didn't reply. "I’m dumb for going out in the rain, I’ll get wet. But I’m fine, see? I put the waterproof pants on over my boots, like you said. It’s been raining like hell and the only part of me that’s wet is my hands!”

“you... came out all this way, to bring me soup?” he said, softly. You almost didn't hear him.

“Yeah. Pumpkin soup. Knowing you, you didn’t eat anything before you left.”

He had gone quiet. That wasn’t like him. He was looking at you very intently, with great big eylights. Another gust of wind sent a wall of rain into the two of you. You visibly swayed, but Sans didn't seem affected by it.

Was he upset that you might get cold? He didn't look upset, his eyelights were so round, almost sparkly.

“I promise I’m not cold," you pressed. "This is the coat you lent me. See? It’s - ” 

Sans moved forward a step. It was all he really needed to close the gap between you. He put an arm around you, despite the flask in hand, and swept you in against him; you were too startled by the sudden movement and proximity to move or do anything. His free hand came up, sliding between your coat hood and the side of your cheek, cupping your face.

He leant in and kissed you.

...

For a moment, you couldn’t hear the rain. You couldn’t hear anything at all. All you could think about was how smooth his hand was, how nice he smelled, how hard your heart was beating, and how warm he was. After so long walking around in the rain, being pulled in close to him felt incredible.

He felt so strong, too. All night, you'd been pushed around by any breath of wind, no matter the direction. In his arms? Nothing moved you. Nothing could shake you.

... Your eyes closed. Maybe it was the dark and gale and rain, maybe it was how early it was in the morning. But you just didn’t want him to let you go.

...

Sans pulled back. Your eyelids fluttered open again. There were raindrops on his skull, and the lamplight was dancing over his bones. His eyelights are such a pretty colour. He was looking at you like he wanted to pick you up and walk home with you.

...

Then, in an instant, the reality of what he just did appeared to hit him. So close to him, you could watch in real time as his eyelights shrank into pins in his sockets, and his smile twitched in what you could only describe as total internal panic.

... You, too, started to do the worst possible thing - think.

Sans just... kissed me. Sans just kissed me.

... You both just stared at each other, he was still holding you. You had no idea for how long. Sans’ eyelights kept flickering between your eyes and your nose, and you kept staring blankly at him, dazed and suddenly very confused.

...

“I-I should, head back,” you started, nervously.

“yeah. uh... yeah.” His hand came off your face, and he let go of your waist, stepping back again. You immediately missed the warmth. “thank you for the soup."

You nodded.

"i’ll..." He sounded shaky. He held onto the flask with both hands, maybe to stop himself from fidgeting. "see you later?”

"You too," you stammered.

... Wait. Shit.

No idea what else to say or do, you stood there like an idiot for a few seconds, trying to formulate something to say or some interesting witty way to turn that fuck-up into a joke and end the conversation - but you had absolutely nothing. Your head was spinning, your heart was still beating a mile a minute, you couldn’t believe that had really just happened. So you just turned right around and started walking.

...

Holy fuck, you thought, pulling your hood tight over your head. What the hell am I going to tell Papyrus?

[umblrspectrum]

ive been struggling big time coming up with anything funny to draw that hasnt been done yet so have my rw au art dump

[buttercupshands]

one of the first sketches I did for the au finally got from the not-so-lined stage

I just wanted to draw Siffrin and Seafoam mirroring each other :)

[gomzdrawfr]

"Don't cry."

Simon said this whenever he knew you were about to cry, eyes glossy and watery, lips trembling.

trigger warnings: angst, childhood abuse (referenced + mentioned), canon-typical violence (referenced)

notes: this is an x reader fic, also apologies for the grammar and errors if any

read more to continue this short drabble

“Don’t cry.”

His voice was hollow, rough, forced out before the words had a chance to settle.

Simon said this whenever he knew you were about to cry, eyes glossy and watery, lips trembling.

It wasn’t gentle, nor a plea. It wasn’t meant for comfort or to keep you from falling apart. It was rough, low, and scratched at your ears in a way that made it hard to bear.

It felt more like an order, one you weren’t sure was meant for you or for himself.

“Just… don’t.” He repeated, the words more for himself than for you. Something swirled in his eyes behind the mask, a faint glint catching the light, like shattered glass.

“Simon,” you whispered, voice cracking, but he cut you off with a sharp edge, ending the conversation before it even began.

You thought it was because of the life he led—the danger and discipline that flowed through his blood. You thought he was telling you not to cry because he needed you to be strong. After all, he was a soldier—a man who had seen more violence, death, and despair than you could ever imagine. You assumed he couldn’t stand to see weakness, the vulnerability that came with it.

But there was more.

There was always more with him.

You didn’t know what those words really meant to him, how deep they ran, how they had been carved into his very bones, how they play on repeat in his head like a broken cassette tape on those colder nights.

You didn’t know that those two words were all he had ever heard growing up, the only comfort he could muster when his mum sobbed after another bad night, when Tommy curled up in the corner of the kitchen, scared and bruised, whispering into the dark.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

He had felt helpless as a boy, kneeling before his family, wanting more than anything to do something—anything—but lacking the strength or power to act. He couldn’t make the pain go away. He couldn’t make the tears disappear.

Hearing those heart-wrenching sobs, those sniffles, those whimpers—it made him feel like that little boy again: lost, powerless, useless.

But the tears always came, and they never fixed anything. Crying didn’t make the bruises disappear. It didn’t quiet the screams. It didn’t make the shouting stop. All it did was twist his stomach inside out, wring his heart until he didn’t even recognize it anymore, and made his breathing all the more suffocating, like he was drowning in someone else’s grief.

It made him feel small.

Seeing those same tears in your eyes brought him back to that place. And he didn’t know how to deal with it. How to make it better.

He hated it. He hated feeling like that small boy again, hopeless, like he was failing all over.

Because Simon loves you, he truly does, more than himself, and yet he can’t bring himself to face you in these moments. 

Turning his back away from you, his head dipped lower, as if he were willing himself out of the memory that bubbled up, out of the pain that no amount of time or distance could dull.

Tears didn’t fix the past. They didn’t heal the scars that had been left on his soul.

“Simon-”

“Don’t cry… please.”

When he turned away, when he avoided your tears, when he grew distant whenever you broke down in front of him—it wasn’t because he didn’t care.

He just didn’t know how to handle it.

[i-love-ptv]

You can’t remember how many drinks you’ve had tonight. Everything started getting blurry after the third.

You and your boyfriend had been invited to a get-together at the local pub. Whose idea was it? Farleigh’s? No, he had just thrown a party the other day. Maybe it was Oliver’s suggestion. After all, he was eyeing that brunette the other day. Maybe he was looking for a hook-up.

You don’t know how or when you were in his arms and taken back to his dorm; But what you do know is that your feet hurt from your heels, and that your boyfriend’s bed was calling your name.

The thought of wiping the smudged makeup off of your face flew out the window as soon as your warm head hit the pillow.

But don’t worry, because as soon as he steps through the door, Felix is already rushing to find the makeup remover and cotton pads that he had stored away somewhere on his desk.

He flips you over and begins the process of removing your makeup. He can’t help but smile to himself.

He finds this situation so domestic; despite the deep snores escaping your body.

Felix gently changes you out of your outfit; trying his very hardest not to jolt you awake. You had looked so sleepy before the two of you left.

After putting you in one of his shirts, and cooing you back to sleep after you deliriously called out to him once you had woke up, he quickly strips himself down to his boxers and scoots himself under the covers with you.

He holds you close and coddles your head. He giggles softly at the sight of your small puddle of drool dripping down your face and onto your pillow. He presses a feathery-light kiss to your forehead, and grimaces a bit when he feels a light layer of sweat coating you.

But he grins, knowing that no amount of sweat, dirt, or grime could pull him away from his angel; that he swore, was ‘sent down to earth from heaven, just for him.’

Felix thought that this type of love was only something that one would find in the movies, and god is he so glad that he was wrong.

An: Made this blurb in 20 minutes for you lovelies!

Feedback always appreciated. <333

[s0fter-sin]

one of my favourite aspects of supernatural that you very rarely see in paranormal shows is that sam and dean are already versed in the world they live in. there’s no sudden discovery of ghosts and demons and now they have to learn about them along with the audience; they are born into it and already know all about it. it allows the audience to follow their personal story instead of also trying to figure out this new world and its rules

the first season is full of knowledge we never see them learn; “w*ndigoes are in the minnesota woods or- or northern michigan. i’ve never even heard of one this far west.” […] “great. well then this [his gun] is useless.” (1x02), “you don’t break a curse. you get the hell out of its way.” (1x08), d: “it’s a god. a pagan god, anyway.” […] “the annual cycle of its killings? and the fact that the victims are always a man and a woman. like some kind of fertility right.” […] s: “the last meal. given to sacrificial victims. d: “yeah, i’m thinking a ritual sacrifice to appease some pagan god.” (1x11)

almost every episode in the first season is a monster they’ve faced before that they then explain to the audience in a way that should feel patronising; like it’s the same speech given over and over again but instead, the audience almost feels included in the knowledge. it’s stated with such an innate confidence and comfort in said knowledge that it feels like we already knew it too; “spirits and demons don't have to unlock doors. if they want inside, they just go through the walls.” […] “the claws, the speed that it moves; could be a skinwalker, maybe a black dog.” (1x02), “it's biblical numerology. you know noah's ark, it rained for forty days. the number means death.” (1x04), “no no no, not the reaper, a reaper. there's reaper lore in pretty much every culture on earth, it goes by 100 different names.” […] “you said it yourself that the clock stopped, right? reapers stop time. and you can only see 'em when they're coming at you which is why i could see it and you couldn't.” (1x12)

they already know and, at least in the first season, already have what they need to kill whatever they’re hunting; already know to salt and burn bones for spirits, fire for a w*ndigo, exorcisms for demons, a silver bullet to the heart for shapeshifters. there’s only three times in the entire first season that they run into something new to them; 1x14 when sam gets his first vision that leads him to another psychic, 1x16 when dean calls caleb for help on the sigil he put together and he tells him about daevas, and 1x20 when they find out vampires are real- and they only don’t know that bc john thought they were hunted to extinction and not worth mentioning

(there’s also technically two half instances if you count one of them knowing something the other doesn’t - sam figuring out the tulpa in 1x17 and dean already knowing about the shtriga in 1x18 - but those still rely on sam and dean having prior knowledge)

even when they’re uncertain about facing something, it’s not bc they don’t know what it is; it’s precisely bc they know what it is and acknowledge that it’ll be a difficult hunt (“i don't know, man. this isn't our normal gig. i mean, demons, they don't want anything, just death and destruction for its own sake. this is big. and i wish dad was here.” 1x04)

so much of the tension in paranormal shows typically comes from the main character(s) not knowing what is happening to them/the people around them and having to find out how to resolve it. supernatural is unique in that it operates more like a police procedural. the tension comes from solving the clues and identifying patterns to figure out who (what) the killer is and intercepting before they can take another victim

it’s such a different tone to go for when compared to other shows that came both before, during, and after its run. it sets sam and dean on even footing with each other since they both have the same knowledge going in, and it puts them in a place of authority usually reserved for an outside character

the shows i compare spn to most is charmed, buffy and teen wolf; every main character in those shows are brought into the paranormal world knowing nothing, putting them on the same level as the audience, and they have their mc interact with others already knowledgeable about that world in order to overcome their problem/monster of the week. the audience organically learns about this new world as the characters learn about it. it’s a sound writing strategy that prevents “as we already know”-style exposition but something that complicates it is if your world building isn’t unique or intriguing enough, this slow introduction can become boring

we’ve seen shows like these before; sitting through the same tropes of characters learning to use their powers, struggling with no longer feeling normal/relating to the regular world around them, and not knowing how much they can trust the people already involved in this new world gets repetitive. all three shows eventually reach the same level of comfort with their new world that spn starts with but if the characters aren’t enough to draw you in, you can end up dropping it before they reach that point (and often, before the overarching plot can really kick in and evolve the show beyond the villain of the week format)

it’s the superhero origin movie in tv format; dragged out and overplayed. dropping the audience into an established world of course comes with its own problems but you also have the benefit of pre-existing established character dynamics that let the audience slot in like they’ve always been there instead of just getting to know all the characters while the characters also get to know each other

sam and dean already knowing about the supernatural lets the audience immediately get to the core of the story; the conflict between sam and dean, the search for their father, and the mystery of what killed their mother

[rawliverandgoronspice]

I think what particularly annoys me with the "zelda was always gameplay before story" is that... it's not true? At least I don't think it's true in the way people mean it.

Zelda games were always kind of integrating story based on the standards of the time. When game stories were in game pamphlets, Zelda's stories was in the pamphlets. ALTTP tried to tell a pretty complicated stories with the limitations of the time. OoT was actively trying to tell an epic, cinematic tale packed with ambiance and expand what 3D could offer that 2D games struggled with. Majora's Mask is deeply character-driven in many, many ways. Wind Waker and Twilight Princess are both pretty concerned about their stories, down to the point that some people were bored by TP's cutscenes in particular. Skyward Sword, from what little I have played it, is very very invested in its characters and their journey (and 2D Zeldas have Link's Awakening, Minish Cap... None of them are visual novels, but they are concerned with emotional journeys, character arcs, mysteries about their own world...)

What is true is that the narrative wraps around the mechanics, and not the other way around. The mechanics drive themes, aesthetics, emotional beats and character journeys; and that's great. The world is a puzzle, and the world is delightfully absurd when it needs to be, full of heart when it calls for it, dark and oppressive when it suits the player experience.

That does not mean the games aren't invested in their stories. Even BotW has a pretty complicated story to tell about an entire world rather than one specific tale or legend --all of it at the service of the gameplay, which is exploration and mastery of your environment.

So. Yes, none of the Zelda games are million-words long visual novels that care deeply about consistency and nuance; but stories don't need consistency or deep lore to be meaningful and serve an emotional journey. Again: gameplay is story. The two cannot be so easily parsed from each other.

And Zelda as a franchise obviously care deeply about story, characters and setting (and still does right now --otherwise there wouldn't be a movie), even if it doesn't try to imitate prestige narrative-driven games, which is great and part of why I love this series so much. Doesn't mean it couldn't have done better in the past, it obviously could have, but I feel like pretending that nobody ever cared about story or character is just... false? It's a huge disservice to the devs too. Some of them obviously cared immensely.

The "gameplay above story", at least in the extent to which it is paraded today to defend TotK, mostly, is a really recent development. And I think it's one that deserves to receive some pushback.

[fishyartist]

Ui idea tests, thrown together bc im eepy. Was planning on doing more but I spent all my days energy on the second one oops

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

x

[zecoritheweirdone]

okay so i have, like. a lot of msa doodles that i just haven't posted anywhere,, mostly of aus i've barely talked about, if at all,,, and like. i've mostly been waiting on posting some of them until i writes lil smth 'bout 'em,, since i have a habit of sharing art for aus and then never doing anything with them again,,, but like. haven't been in the mood to write for a while 👍. so i might as well share 'em now instead of letting them rot,, dkdjsks. so here's a peek at what goes on inside my mind!

(the last doodle was colored by sap @/pinesented my good friend sap)

[fixinit-au]

Imagine this scene but Billford

[bookshelf-in-progress]

No matter how many times it happens, I'm always shocked by how reliably all my problems with any given story are solved by making it shorter. If I go into a story with the idea that it'll be long, that I should use as much detail as I want to craft a full-length and fully-fleshed-out story instead of a short one, it always turns into this rambling, meandering, soulless thing that's no fun to read, and I get tangled up in so many flimsy, sprawling layers of character and worldbuilding that the plot becomes unworkable.

The minute I tell myself, "Let's make this as short as possible," the problems fall away, I find the heart of the story again, the pacing is brisk, scenes get multiple purposes, the world feels deeper because I'm implying things that spark the reader's imagination rather than trying to put every threadbare, boring detail on the page. Every time. You'd think I'd have learned by now.

[realbeefman]

stacy is sooo interesting because she's in love with house but knows that they will never ever be able to have a healthy, stable, sane relationship because they're too similar so. she finds house-lite instead and marries him and. essentially moves on with her life! and is successful in this because she's a moderately well-adjusted person!

wilson, in contrast, never manages to escape the inevitable, in spite of his best efforts to find a house-lite of his very own, because he's an absolute fucking freak and ends up glued to house to the bitter. bitter end

[wonder-worker]

Wild how we know that Elizabeth Woodville was officially appointed to royal councils in her own right during her husband’s reign and fortified the Tower of London in preparation of a siege while 8-months pregnant and had forces gathering at Westminster “in the queen’s name” in 1483 – only for NONE of these things to be even included, let alone explored, in the vast majority of scholarship and historical novels involving her.

[yellowocaballero]

Naruto Roleswap AU: Kakashi's a wifeguy, Rin's a Girlboss, and Itachi gets adopted

“Do you think we’re the baddies?”

The Mizukage’s pen froze on her paperwork. She looked up and squinted at Kakashi, as if attempting valiantly to discern his twisted mind and failing utterly. “‘Baddies’?”

“You know,” Kakashi elaborated, “the bad guys. The bullies. People who enjoy indiscriminately murdering, maiming, genocide, the works.” 

The Mizukage looked appalled. “Of course we aren’t. Where did you get that idea?” Kakashi shrugged limply. “We’re working for world peace, Kakashi. Of course we’re the good guys. What else would we be?”

Kakashi scratched at his neck. “Do traditional definitions of world peace include putting the world under a mass genjutsu? Or destabilizing foreign governments?”

“We did those governments a favor,” the Mizukage said frankly. “Kiri’s prospering. And mass genjutsu is the only way to keep people from killing each other. Honestly, Kakashi, if there’s one good guy in the world then it’s us.”

“I thought that was Yahiko.”

“Us and Yahiko,” the Mizukage amended. She thought for a second. “And Tobi, of course.” She thought harder. “No, it’s unfair to put us on the same level as Yahiko and Tobi.”

“So we are the baddies.”

Kakashi and his girlfriend are in the market to adopt, and the Akatsuki is a great place to raise two rambunctious children. The consent of the children isn't neccesary for this. Oneesama knows best, and if you trust in the process then a beautiful utopia can become possible. Or, alternatively, if you don't care about the process or how many atrocities you commit, then you can put off killing yourself from sheer boredom for a few more years.

Tragedy plus time equals a comedy, and you can believe anything if you have no other choice.

This one's very different tonally from the rest of the AU, but that's what I like about it. I ended up really loving writing Kakashi, and I'll have to find the exuse to write more of this funny narration in the future. Parts of this crossover with the previous installment of this AU, and they're very much intended to be read side by side. The good guys sitting around sobbing from despair as the bad guys have yakety sax hijinks was very funny to me. 7k of Kakashi's Crippling Depression Adventures In The Akatsuki under the cut.

“Do you think we’re the baddies?”

The Mizukage’s pen froze on her paperwork. She looked up and squinted at Kakashi, as if attempting valiantly to discern his twisted mind and failing utterly. “‘Baddies’?”

“You know,” Kakashi elaborated, “the bad guys. The bullies. People who enjoy indiscriminately murdering, maiming, genocide, the works.” 

The Mizukage looked appalled. “Of course we aren’t. Where did you get that idea?” Kakashi shrugged limply. “We’re working for world peace, Kakashi. Of course we’re the good guys. What else would we be?”

Kakashi scratched at his neck. “Do traditional definitions of world peace include putting the world under a mass genjutsu? Or destabilizing foreign governments?”

“We did those governments a favor,” the Mizukage said frankly. “Kiri’s prospering. And mass genjutsu is the only way to keep people from killing each other. Honestly, Kakashi, if there’s one good guy in the world then it’s us.”

“I thought that was Yahiko.”

“Us and Yahiko,” the Mizukage amended. She thought for a second. “And Tobi, of course.” She thought harder. “No, it’s unfair to put us on the same level as Yahiko and Tobi.”

“So we are the baddies.”

“We’ve made some compromises,” the leader of the violent coup that overthrew Hanzo and made her a dictator of a hidden village allowed. “But anything’s worth it if it keeps the world safe, right?”

“Hm,” Kakashi said, contemplating the Kyuubi’s attack on the village and the Minato/Kushina dual murders. “Well, can’t argue with that.” 

“What a silly conversation.” The Mizukage went back to her paperwork, signing away at form after form. How she found the time to lead a village and shadow-lead the Akatsuki, Kakashi had no idea. Maybe she just didn’t need to sleep as often as the mere mortals. Jinchuuriki were so unfair. “Now, can you do me a favor and go pick up the baby ninja we manipulated into mass-murdering his family? He’s probably very stressed out right now, he could use some comfort.”

“I’ll drop him off with Konan.” Kakashi paused, then amended, “Yahiko.”

“Sounds great. Love you, Kakashi.”

Kakashi halted at the window, pulling his ceramic mask over his face. “Love you too, Rin.”

And, as Rin would proclaim: could you really be the baddie if you loved someone?

*

Truthfully, Itachi had barely left Konoha.

The kid had been locked in a permanent dissociative daze since he started his little genocidal adventure and it hadn’t quite lifted. He had clearly found an inn in the closest city on autopilot, paid for it via the multiple stab wounds and bloody cloak, and passed out. He had the presence of mind to perform basic first aid on himself, which was probably the only reason his wounds weren’t grievously infected. He was also pretty strung out, and clearly hadn’t slept in five days. In short, the kid had an altogether pathetic vibe to him. Kakashi would sympathize if he was the type.

Kakashi knocked on the door to Itachi’s room. He waited a polite thirty seconds before knocking again. Then he teleported the door into Kamui - he always made a little ‘yoink!’ sound effect in his head - and walked into the room. 

Itachi’s attempt at stabbing him was, frankly, tragic. The Uchiha must have been half grannies. Kakashi blocked the blow with his sheathed tanto, exquisitely bored, before pushing the boy backwards. Itachi turned his stumble into a flip and landed on the bed, already charging another fire jutsu in his hands. Some people really were overachievers. 

Kakashi sheathed his tanto and lazily raised both hands. “Is this how you welcome your friends, Itachi-kun?”

Itachi’s face was bone white, and his entire body was shaking. His first aid attempts were lacking. He needed a doctor badly. It was a testament to the sheer dissociative power of his insane little mind that he was conscious at all. “I have no friends.”

Objectively true statement. Kid caught on fast. “You have me, if that counts for anything.” Judging by Itachi’s murder eyes, it did not. “I’m a representative of an organization that’s interested in recruiting you. Why don’t you hear us out?”

“You know what I just did,” Itachi said dully. “No organization I should join would have me as a member. I’m uninterested. Leave.”

“Maa, that’s too bad.” Kakashi scratched at his neck, jostling his ceramic mask. “You don’t want to see your friend again? What was his name - Shisui Uchiha?”

Itachi froze. The fire jutsu flared upwards, and his Sharingan began to spin. 

“Relax, we didn’t kidnap him. We rescued him. Like we’re interested in rescuing you.” Kakashi held out his hand, tilting his head. “Nobody in this world will help you now, Itachi-kun. Nobody but us. We will help you.”

Itachi pulled backwards, mouth thinning, but Kakashi could see it. He knew how Itachi wanted to lean in. He was thirteen years old and his parents were dead. Never mind the details. “Will you take me to Shisui?”

“Sure. We got the best doctor in the continent too.”

The conclusion was foregone. Itachi had no other choice. He was alone, and he was dying, and he didn’t care if he died. People like that always took the first hand that came along. It was the best time to nab people: when they were at their most vulnerable, their most susceptible, their most trusting. Ask Kakashi how he knew. Better yet - don’t. 

Itachi took Kakashi’s hand, and he teleported them both away. 

*

Akatsuki HQ was nice digs. 

For Ame. By the standards of anywhere that wasn’t Ame, it was the dreariest yet most nondescript building anybody had ever seen. The sky was always dark grey and the clouds were always pouring rain. The buildings had a pre-fab brutalist flair and you could always count on some ominous lightning to provide atmosphere. Ame permanently felt like the setting of a horror movie. Seeing as Kakashi’s life was a horror movie, it had to feel a little appropriate. 

But Yahiko brought the sunshine. Wherever he went was all good weather. Shaking his hand made you feel as if the sun was shining, and when he entered a room he brought blue skies. It was like the rain didn’t even pour on it. He reminded Kakashi of Tobi’s best friend, which was the most back-handed compliment you could give a person. 

The major difference between the two was that everybody liked Yahiko. Ame had one political party and it was the cult of Yahiko. Konan would blow up a small village for him. Even Rin waved her M/F/M/F polycule books in his face and gave him significant eyebrows. If Rin died overnight, he was their best hope for world peace. No genjutsu necessary - just sheer force of personality and beautiful vibes.

Personally, Kakashi just liked how easy he was to manipulate.

“Konoha made him do what?” Yahiko gasped. “Those bastards! They call themselves the nice village?”

Kakashi shrugged. “What can I say. We defected for a reason.” 

“That’s disgusting. They’d make a thirteen year old do that to his own family? He’s a child!” Yahiko chewed at his thumbnail, thinking furiously. “Even Kiri at its worst never forced its children to cleanse their own bloodline! After what they did to your teammate, too…maybe it’s just something about those Uchihas.”

“Guess we don’t have to worry about them anymore,” Kakashi said diplomatically. 

They were waiting in the hallway outside of Itachi’s operating room. Yahiko had done the absolute predictable and called Rin the second he saw Kakashi lugging a half-dead teenager into his HQ. She flew in like an angel and descended on the poor child in her infinite grace, earning Yahiko’s eternal gratefulness for her beneficence upon the infant he had met five seconds ago and loved as if he was his own. What could Kakashi say? Some people were heavenly spirits walking the earth. 

“We can bring him into Ame for sure,” Yahiko said, truly fired up. Kakashi hadn’t even asked? “I’ve invented this new thing, I’ve tentatively named it therapy no jutsu, and I think Itachi-kun would be a perfect early adopter. I have this dream, right, that we can take insane people and make them less insane -”

“Sounds like a great idea,” Kakashi lied. Spirits above, what a freak. “Why don’t you go get Itachi’s new citizenship settled out? My partner and I will catch him up to speed.”

“Good idea. I’m not doing much just loitering around like this.” Yahiko nodded professionally at him, and Kakashi bowed back. As always, Yahiko ruined any sense of propriety with a bright smile. “Then we’ll finally go on that double date, right? Rin-sama and I have been trying to find a time that works with our schedules for ages. We’re thinking that seafood place near the harbor.”

No. The double date was not happening. The double date would never happen. Because Kakashi knew full well what Rin and Konan were angling for and he was not going along with it. Even if Yahiko and Konan were admittedly kinda - 

The door opened, saving Kakashi from a train of thought even worse than the denial. Rin poked her head out, sweaty but fresh and smiling. Yahiko immediately smiled at her, and she smiled happily back at him. Like Kakashi, she was dressed down in her Akatsuki gear. She didn’t wear a mask in her Mizukage or her Akatsuki get-up, but at Akatsuki HQ she tended to pass herself off as an unassuming household medic. After all this time, Rin was still excellent at playing innocent. 

“Itachi-kun’s well enough to receive visitors,” Rin said cheerfully. “Do you want to meet him, Yahiko-sama?” 

Yahiko pumped his fist, grinning. “Yeah! We’ll give him a real Akatsuki welcome!”

As it turned out, a ‘real Akatsuki welcome’ involved mochi. Itachi stared at it, flabbergasted. He still looked pale, but Kakashi could tell that Rin had done her usual excellent job - his body seemed to be free of injuries, and he probably felt like a spring chicken. She had moved him from the ominous operating room (never there for a good reason; bad vibes) into the infirmary (worse than the operating room because you were generally awake to experience it; atrocious vibes)

“I’m so sorry to hear about your family, Itachi-kun,” Yahiko said firmly, shoving the mochi at Itachi. Itachi blinked at it, somehow violently. Rin sympathetically took the box and placed it at his bedside. “We know how hard losing your family can be.”

Itachi stared at Yahiko for a long second. Finally, he rasped, “I killed my family.” 

“Konoha forced you to kill your family,” Yahiko corrected. “It’s hardly your fault, Itachi-kun. You were manipulated. You can’t ever forget who your real enemies are.”

“Or your real friends,” Rin said gently. She sat down next to Itachi, blasting her best ‘soft and motherly’ smile at him full throttle. “You can call me Rin-san, Itachi-kun. The man in the mask is my partner Hound, and the ray of sunshine over there is the leader of Ame, Yahiko-sama. If I know him correctly, I can guess he already has a proposition for you.” 

Itachi immediately shook his head, pushing himself fully upright. “I’m not interested in any -”

Rin put a hand on his chest and gently pushed him back down. Itachi fell back onto the bed, shocked by the force. “Just hear us out.” 

Itachi’s eyes flickered to Kakashi. He undoubtedly recognized him, Hound mask or clean faced. Kakashi winked at him. Itachi’s eyebrows tilted. Long experience with Uchihas helped him interpret the gesture. Kakashi held up one finger. Patience. 

“You’re welcome to live in Ame if you want, Itachi-kun. We’ll protect you. But I have another proposal for you.” Wow. Wonder what that would be. It couldn’t possibly be the same proposal Rin had been hinting at ever since Kakashi lugged Itachi’s sorry ass back to the village. “Are you a pacifist, Itachi-kun?”

Itachi was silent. His eyebrows screamed - ‘I killed my family!’.

Amazingly, Yahiko was able to interpret that. Must be Konan’s influence. She was a stoic one. And somewhat surly. “Only those who’ve experienced the worst violence know the value of true peace. Those of us who truly seek peace and prosperity have all experienced the worst of humanity. Your experiences are why I think you can become a pacifist who can protect your precious people. That can become the purpose of your life.”

It was abundantly clear that Itachi did not give a single fuck about any sort of philosophy right now. The second Rin removed her hand he forced himself upright again, and he ignored her danger eyebrows. One was only foolish enough to ignore those once, Itachi. “Where’s Shisui.”

Yahiko glanced at Rin, frowning lightly. “Do you know who that is?”

“Remember the half-dead kid Hound fished from the river?” Rin said cheerfully. Yahiko made a noise of comprehension. “Apparently he’s a Uchiha too. He faked his death before the massacre. He’s the reason why Hound investigated the massacre at all. He’s been in a coma since we rescued him. He didn’t have to work very hard to fake his death - he was very badly hurt.” She looked down at Itachi, who was pale with shock. “Would you like to see him? He’s in the long-term infirmary in the other room.”

Dumbly, Itachi nodded. Kakashi silently tallied up the lies and omissions of truth in those sentences. Nowhere near her best, but not nothing. 

“Then I’ll get somebody on Itachi-kun’s citizenship paperwork.” Yahiko jokingly half-saluted, which was a terrible look on a leader of a city state. “I’ll put Itachi-kun’s future in your capable hands, Rin-sama.”

Rin smiled gently at Yahiko. “There’s nothing I value more.”

They waited until Yahiko had left the room and his chakra signature had long since retreated before Rin spoke again. Itachi was looking increasingly wild, and when he forced himself to stand up Rin didn’t stop him. She just rose with him, carefully straightening the infirmary bed behind him. 

“Yahiko-sama truly is one of the kindest people I know,” Rin said to Itachi. He still looked a little flabbergasted by the welcome. It was all in the eyebrows. “You’ll see things our way. Everybody does eventually.”

“Darling, let’s save talk like that for after the recruitment.”

“What did I say?” Rin asked, for all appearances genuinely surprised. “Isn’t it a good thing that people agree with us?”

Yes, after the - let’s count it, the military coups, manipulations, genjutsus, etc, etc…

“Can’t argue with that,” Kakashi said blandly. 

Itachi brushed past them both and walked towards the long-term infirmary door, opening it immediately and walking inside. Guess they had been too busy teaching this kid how to kill people instead of any manners.

Atrociously, Rin crossed her arms and sighed fondly. “He really reminds you of him, huh?”

“If I remember correctly, that seems to be the whole problem.” Kakashi shot Rin a canny look, who looked innocently up at the ceiling. “No adoption.”

“You’re always saying some needy orphan will come our way! He’s the definition of a needy orphan, isn’t he?”

“Darling, he killed his parents.”

Frankly, Rin said, “He’s not special.”

True but very unwelcome sentence. As usual.

Rin was good on her promises, as always. Shisui was the sole inhabitant of the long-term infirmary, hooked up to a few monitors but otherwise sleeping peacefully. He seemed completely cured of his extensive injuries. His face was flush with color and both of his eyes were intact. A testament to Rin’s skill - he had been found gripping one eye in a chakra-infused bubble. But she had some practice with fucked up Sharingan transplants. It had taken years before she figured out how to undo Madara’s patchwork job and re-implanted Kakashi’s eye with a functional chakra network. 

Itachi was already at Shisui’s bedside. The kid had his Sharingan activated, scanning his body for injuries and finding none. Kakashi idly wondered whose Mangeyko was stronger. Itachi probably beat him out by virtue of having two and his ability to summon Susanoo, but kamui was a far more useful skill than Amaterasu or some lame torture dimension. As always, Obito was the best. Or he would be, if he was intact.

“He’s healthy.” Again, only long experience with Obito gave Kakashi the ability to interpret his frustration. “Why is he still asleep.”

“Oh, that’s all me,” Rin said cheerfully. “The coma is artificially induced.”

In the course of a millisecond, Itachi’s kunai were flying. Kakashi was faster. He opened up kamui and swallowed up the kunai. Itachi paused half a second, stunned and confused. It was more than enough time for Kakashi to press his own kunai to Itachi’s neck, standing behind Itachi with his other arm looped over his neck.

“You aren’t irreplaceable, Itachi,” Kakashi panned. “There’s a spare. Right?”

Itachi froze. Rin titled her eyebrows at Kakashi, relentlessly good cop’ing. “Let’s not threaten our new recruit, Hound. Let’s all put the kunai away and talk like civilized ninjas, huh?”

 Seeing as Itachi’s kunai had been warped to the Box Dimension (Feat. Box, Guest Starring Box), the comment had been directed at him. Kakashi stepped away from Itachi, making a show of putting away his kunai and returning to Rin’s side. More than one person had remarked how accurate his codename was. Got funnier each time. Not. 

“Here’s the shakedown, Itachi-kun. Listen closely.” Rin sat down at Shisui’s bedside, graceful and refined. “You’re alone in the world. Yes or no?”

Itachi, standing at the opposite side of Shisui’s bed, stared at her in hostility. 

“You’re a missing nin. You’re probably already in the Bingo Book with an SSS class bounty on your head. Yes or yes?”

Itachi was silent.

“It must be scary. But Konoha’s still backing you, isn’t it?” Rin hid a smile behind a hand. “You’ve been instructed to act as a spy when necessary. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were even asked to infiltrate our organization in a few years. Yes?”

Itachi was silent. He was thirteen, and he was scared.

“They’re still relying on your naivete, Itachi. After everything they’ve asked of you they still want more. They will ask for more, and more, and more. Until they ask for your death. And you intend on giving it to them, don’t you?” Rin shook her head, tsk’ing. “What a waste. The good you can do…the peace you can bring, the people you can help…the reason why you’re a genius in the first place. You’ll never realize it. You could have truly helped people, and you let the evil people use you for evil instead. It’s unfair.”

Itachi looked away, jaw clenching. He was thirteen, and he was insecure. 

Rin leaned forward, eyes arresting Itachi in place. He could not know why they felt so powerful, why Rin’s sheer presence carried such incredible weight. Maybe the weight would feel like the weight of her words - powerful, affecting, true. 

“You don’t have to make a decision now,” Rin said gently. “Spend some time here. Recover from your ordeal. Get some rest. You can make your decision when you’re ready, alright?”

And Yahiko said that he had invented therapy-no-jutsu. Rin was the undisputed master. 

Itachi looked down at Shisui. He could have been sleeping. But Kakashi knew what Itachi was seeing: his best friend killing himself, falling into the river. His pleading not to listen to Danzo. Ineffectual, in the end. Perhaps this was destiny. 

Maybe the Uchiha were always in a state of dying, died, dead. Maybe they would continuously live out this immortal cycle of fatality. Chained by their hatred. Imprisoned by their love. It was the sickest combination of all. Kakashi would know.

“Why are you keeping him in a coma?” Itachi rasped. “What do you want?”

Wow, two question marks from him. New record. Rin’s eyes flickered to Kakashi, and he took his cue. Blandly, he said, “No offense, but you have a history of double crossing. We wanted some insurance. You don’t sell us out to Konoha and we take good care of your bestie. Fair trade.”

Itachi’s expression darkened. “You’re blackmailing me.”

“If we were blackmailing you, we’d be making you join us now.” Kakashi shrugged one shoulder. “We want you to make a choice. We’re just taking care of Shisui-kun until you do.”

And, in the end, Itachi didn’t hesitate. Maybe that was his problem. Maybe it always would be. Five days of no sleep and a Uchiha’s love and a ninja’s tendency to choose violence first - shaken and stirred, you ended up with a dangerously impulsive thirteen year old. The importance of the thirteen year old aspect here really couldn’t be understated. 

“I’ll join,” Itachi said immediately. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just wake up Shisui.”

Hilariously, Rin looked crestfallen. “We aren’t trying to blackmail you, Itachi-kun. A mission of peace and goodness can’t start on a bedrock of pain. How about you take some time and -”

“I don’t care.” Wow. Nobody interrupted Rin anymore. “I don’t care about anything anymore. I will kill whoever you want. I will be whatever you want. Wake him up.”

Rin pressed her hands to her cheeks, sighing. “Oh, you are just too cute! You’re like a little copy of Hound! Hound, don’t you see why -”

“This is a bad start to that sort of relationship.”

“Oh, what does that matter!”

A lot, Rin. It mattered a lot.

Meanwhile, Itachi was looking increasingly frustrated (eyebrows at 20 degree angle instead of 15). “Wake him up.”

Wow. That was dangerously close to an inflection. Rin just tilted her head, affecting a somewhat thoughtful look. “I don’t think I will, actually.” Itachi’s face did a dangerous thing. “Calm down. Let’s say…in a month? That seems fair.”

Itachi clenched his jaw. What could he say? It was either Shisui waking up in a month or not at all. If Rin wanted to stretch this out for half a year, she could. Goodness knows she could keep Itachi on the hook for that long. Under other circumstances she would probably do it. But keeping Shunshin no Shisui off the board for that long was a stupid move. Privately, Kakashi thought he might be a bit of a wild card. Shisui was even more idiotically loyal to his village than Itachi. He definitely loved his family more, and he might have beef about the clan genocide thing. They couldn’t exactly genjutsu him into submission. But Rin was confident in her ability to control him - sorry, ‘recruit him’ - and Kakashi would always follow her lead.

“Why.”

Rin affected a look of surprise. “Didn’t your parents ever punish you? Maybe you were an obedient boy, but I hear the Uchiha have a ‘spare the rod, spoil the child’ philosophy.”

Yeah, Obito had been beaten by his Uchiha mentors regularly. Team Minato all knew and none of them talked about it. Much later, Rin told him that Minato had tried speaking to Obito’s family about it and had gotten royally shut down. Rin always healed him in silence, and Kakashi already read out passages from his mystery novels that were guaranteed to drive Obito insane with their stupidity. 

Tobi cried when people yelled at him. Surprise, surprise. 

“You are not my parents,” Itachi said harshly. Not if Rin had anything to say about it. “You look twenty three. Do not play pretend.”

“Wow,” Kakashi said. “That was so accurate. The white hair always throws people off.”

Rin just looked a little crushed. “I guess onee-sama’s alright for now.”

“What did I do.”

For the first time, Rin sobered. She leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees, and brought the full force of her deceptive brown eyes down upon Itachi. He probably wasn’t used to such power anymore. He couldn’t possibly identify it. Kakashi wondered idly if Rin was scarier than Danzo. Damn, he hoped so. If she wasn’t…well, he’d learn.

Crisply, Rin said, “You were given explicit instructions not to hurt Obito Uchiha.”

It was clearly not what Itachi expected to hear. His eyebrows furrowed minutely. “How did you know that.”

“How did we know about the true nature of the massacre at all?” Rin asked rhetorically, dodging the question. “You were told to use Tsukuyomi to place him under a non-tortuous genjutsu. You ended up fighting him. I saw his injuries.” Left unsaid: yeah, and they had seen Itachi’s injuries too. Only half of them were from killing 200 plus people. The other half was from one extremely angry guy. “It was against instructions.”

“Your instructions?” Itachi asked sharply. “What -”

“Of course not,” Rin blatantly lied. “Many people are interested in keeping Obito Uchiha intact. You shouldn’t have touched him.”

“He broke out of the Tsukuyomi. It should have been impossible.” Itachi frowned lightly. “Sparing Sasuke is explainable. It would have been suspicious if I had left Tobi untouched.”

“A lack of injuries could have been explained as a complete avoidance of a fight. Injuries implied that he fought you and won. It’s more suspicious.” Left unsaid: Rin had been harvesting a shitton of eyes and swooped in at the last minute to heal his injuries before anybody noticed. Entirely possible that Obito thought the entire fight was one awful dream. Sure as hell had repressed way more minor shit. 

“It should have been impossible to break free of the Tsukuyomi,” Itachi repeated. “He possessed the Mangekyo and an arm that could imitate the Mokuton. That should have also been impossible. I came far closer to losing that fight than I should have. That should have been impossible too. At his prime - perhaps. But not now. He clearly does not know he can protect himself. That is why Shisui and I -” Itachi stopped short, and did not resume speaking.

Kakashi stuck his hands in his pockets, slouching magnificently. “You tried to negotiate to spare Obito Uchiha too, didn’t you?” Itachi’s lips thinned. Rin’s expression softened, which was the real reason for saying it. “Of course they didn’t let you. The village has wanted him out of the way for years. He’s an embarrassment. And Danzo’s always suspected that he had an undisclosed gift. But he’s one of three people left who you love, isn’t he?” Rough not to count his parents - he probably thought he did love his parents - but the truth was the truth. “It’s not too late to make up for what you’ve done. How you almost killed him. We can help you protect him.”

“And what do you have to gain from that.”

“You have people you love who can’t give anything in return,” Rin said softly. “Is it so strange that we feel the same?”

Itachi hesitated. Conflict warred in his countenance. Goes to show - when he’s actually in the  process of being convinced, he’s far less compliant. Maybe they should have just told him to shut up and get with the program. But Rin did have ‘Rin-oneesama’ dreams. Couldn’t crush those.

Kakashi scratched the back of his head. “Of course, you tortured Sasuke Uchiha into becoming a tool for your suicide for…power or something? Who knows. So maybe you don’t know.” Ah, there was the good old Itachi Uchiha self-hatred. Kakashi could read this kid like a book already. “Don’t blame us for wanting a little insurance. With the program?”

Quietly, Itachi said, “Yes.”

“That’s a yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Address Rin-sama first, usually.”

Itachi turned to Rin and bowed at the waist.  “Yes, Rin-sama.”

“You are so cute,” Rin gushed. “Why don’t you run off and get the grand tour of the place from Yahiko? He’s always wanted a kid around to big brother. It’ll be a lot of fun for you, promise!” Lie. Yahiko was overwhelming when he decided to big brother you. Nagato had probably killed himself in self-defense.

“Yes, Rin-sama.”

“He’s so polite, Hound!”

Rin in a nutshell. 

As Itachi’s hand lingered on the doorknob, he turned back to look at Shisui one last time. It was clear he wanted to stay in the room with him. It was clear that he didn’t want to leave. But Itachi understood that he had jumped from the frying pan into the cleansing fire, and the bright boy already knew the score. When he returned to the long-term infirmary the door would be locked. He would know better than to try and unlock it. Rin really was a little pissy about the Obito thing. 

They waited a little while for Itachi to leave earshot before speaking again. Rin smiled, clapping her hands. “What did I tell you, Kakashi? He’s just too cute! Doesn’t he need a helping hand?”

“Slow your roll,” Kakashi drawled. “He needs a master more than love right now. He won’t believe he deserves the love. He only understands a master. I know a dog when I see one.”

“That’s why we’re a tag team.” Rin winked at him. It was adorable. “A master holds a leash to contain their hound. But the hound that truly loves the master stays at his side voluntarily.”

They really had to do something about his codename. But, of course, that had been the point. Although he knew it would be completely pointless, Kakashi said, “So the Infinite Tsukuyomi plan…which one do you think that might be? The leash or the love?”

“It’s both. A leash is the kindest thing you can do for humanity. Stops them from running off cliffs, getting run over by carriages, running afoul of cruel humans…you have to train with a leash before a hound is ready to run on its own.” Rin sighed, leaning on the nightstand and looking at Shisui. “But the regular person won’t understand that. We have to save them one person at a time until we can save the world. We saved Itachi from those monstrous, uncaring Uchiha. He’ll understand that one day. Everybody deserves a utopia except the system that would ruin it, right?”

Kakashi shrugged. “Sure.”

Rin shot him a flat look. “One of these days I’ll convince you to have an opinion about something.”

“I have an opinion about you and Obito,” Kakashi said cheekily, and he was rewarded with a soft smile. Granted, it was indistinguishable from her fake ones, but he had the benefit of trust. “Speaking of which, I think I’ll go visit him. Want to come with?”

But Rin just looked away, ghosting a hand over Shisui’s prone face. “No. If you say he’s safe, he’s safe.”

Kakashi lowered his voice. This, of all things, was her one true point of vulnerability. But Obito had always been their weakness. “You deserve to see him.” Rin’s hand halted over Shisui’s nose and mouth. “You aren’t dirty, Rin.”

“I’m weak,” Rin said softly. She placed her hand over Shisui’s nose and mouth. “If I saw him…I’d ruin it all.”

She pressed down. 

“You’re the strongest person I know. Seeing his face might make this easier to bear.” Shisui’s chest began to rise and fall faster and faster, struggling for breath. “You should at least try.”

“When the world is good,” Rin whispered. “When we have a world good enough for him. Obito or Tobi…I’ll create a world where either can be happy. One where he can be whoever he wants to be. He’ll feel safe. That’s when I will be able to face him again.”

And, left unsaid: only an Infinite Tsukuyomi could create that world. Nothing less than a completely controlled utopia could create a world where Obito Uchiha could be himself. In that way, it was all for him.

Of course, that would leave them with a secondary problem - i.e. he would probably be terrified of them. Because they were the baddies. 

Eh. Obito was nuts too. Maybe he’d roll with it. All else fails, they could just have Shisui genjutsu him. It didn’t matter. What did?

“Call me selfish,” Kakashi drawled, sticking his hands in his pockets, “but I hope he chooses Obito. Things could be…a little closer to our hopes and dreams that way.”

If Obito was terrified of them, Tobi was all they would ever get. Sacrifices and compromises must be made. And hopes and dreams would forever remain far away.

Rin smiled, sticking out her tongue at him. “We love him no matter what,” Rin said loyally. She paused a beat. “But…call me selfish too.”

Shisui’s chest grew still. Boredly, Rin’s hand glowed with green chakra, and his heart beat again. He gasped for breath, unconscious yet fighting for his life, and his breaths evened out again. He would never even know.

Kakashi saluted her, and she blew him a kiss, and he disappeared into the world that he and Obito shared. Even if he didn’t know it yet. 

*

Who was the worse person: the woman who thought her actions were helping the world, or the man who knew their actions were evil and simply didn’t care?

Of course, this was not a question Kakashi cared about either. He always ended up asking himself these questions, because despite everything he was a chronic thinker, but he alway dismissed them just as easily. They never captured his attention. Almost nothing did, save Rin and Obito. 

And maybe Yahiko and Konan, just a bit. A little bit more every day. Some distant part of Kakashi was horrified by that. Again, most of him didn’t care. He and that sulky Konan had an understanding. 

The one man Kakashi cared about (Yahiko did not count) was sitting in a hard plastic chair in a hospital room. A child was lying in a hospital bed. Probably Sasuke, recovering from his brother’s torture genjutsu. Kakashi’s eyes glossed over him. As always, there was a helpful branch outside the window, and Kakshi settled in to watch. 

Obito - might as well call him Tobi, for clarity’s sake - seemed very out of it. He should probably be in his own hospital bed, but there was no way he would stay in another room when a baby cousin needed him by his side. So tsundere but so caring. Kakashi missed Obito’s unique brand of care. The world had tried to beat it out of him, but it just couldn’t be suffocated. How often had he scorned Rin and Kakashi for their weakness, yet took every hit for them he could in battle?  How many lunches had he packed, civilians had he rescued, lectures he had inflicted upon Kakashi about how his laziness was going to kill him?

Kakashi hesitated. He…he really wanted…

Obito had lost everything, and today he had lost the rest. His family was extinct and featured only two incompetent children. Kakashi…wanted to…

Would Rin scold him for going against orders? Undoubtedly. Who was the worse person: the woman who thought her actions were helping the world, or the man who knew their actions were evil and simply didn’t care? The woman who thought she was helping Obito, or the man who knew that they were only hurting him and simply hurt him more?

Because it was Obito, it was a question that Kakashi bothered to answer. The man who tortured him with full understanding that they were torturing him was far worse. He could stop at any time - he knew how to stop, he knew that he only needed to break away from his mindless obedience to Rin - but he never would. That would involve making his own decisions. Can’t have that.

It was a useless question anyway. Obito would never forgive either of them. And yet, Kakashi wanted…

Kakashi balanced delicately on the windowsill. He tapped on the window three times, and when Tobi didn’t respond he disarmed the security seals and let himself in. 

Only then did Tobi respond. Barely. He roused himself, blinking sleepily at the intruder in a dark cloak with red clouds and a white mask. He probably should have dressed up as an ANBU, but - well, too late now. 

Immediately, Kakashi let his Sharingan spin. He cast a minor genjutsu over Tobi - there was no minor genjutsu with the Mangekyo, but it was the best he could do. Their eyes were equally matched…obviously…but between the shock and the tiredness and barely healed injuries Kakashi’s eye came out on top. 

Tobi’s eyes immediately unfocused, and he slumped a little in his seat. The genjutsu didn’t do much - it would make this event feel unreal, closer to a dream. Prevent him from panicking or remembering this encounter too well. Alright. That worked, somehow. Bizarre to get one up on Obito. Should have felt more satisfying. Really didn’t. Kakashi just felt kind of awkward now.

Unlike Rin, he had never…really interacted with Tobi. He saw other people interacting with him all the time, but Kakashi never had the pleasure. How did other people talk to him? Smaller words, simple sentences, clear directions? Kakashi could tell that it took practice for most people. He had no idea how to do it.

Since Obito was obviou - maybe - anyway, since Obito was more mentally present than he seemed, Kakashi would just talk normally and not care. But a) Obito was committed to this bit - uh, better at understanding things than he appeared to be, and would act as if he didn’t understand anyway, and b) there was no possible way that Obito was home right now. If Obito was ever home, obviously. But Obito had been home less and less as the years went by, and Kakashi could already tell that he would withdraw deep inside of himself for a while. 

Uh. What did he do. What did he do. Act as if he was talking to a dog, maybe? Kakashi knew dogs. He knew Rin and he knew dogs. Was that condescending?! Without a doubt, but - ah, fuck it. Kakashi couldn’t believe he was feeling some sort of anxiety about this. When was the last time he had felt anxiety? When he and Rin spent way too long trying to exterminate Zetsu from this green earth?

“Hey, Tobi,” Kakashi said softly. “How…are you?”

Tobi just frowned. Kakashi wanted to spin his Sharingan, remember the sight of him so close and speaking to him forever, but that would be more than suspicious. “Who are you?”

“A friend.” Would even Tobi buy that?! “Are you okay? You seem like you’ve been through a lot.” Did that work? Damn, at least he could normally depend on Obito to filter this shit. “Um. I know you’re hurt.”

“Tobi’s not okay,” Tobi said frankly. He looked over at Sasuke, sleeping so peacefully. So he either bought it or didn’t give a shit. Relatable. “Tobi’s not gonna be okay again.”

“That’s not true. One day everything will be okay.” A lump formed in Kakashi’s throat, and he forced himself to swallow it down. “I know it hurts now. But it has to hurt now.”

“Why?” Tobi asked. So plaintively. He didn’t understand.

And Kakashi could only hesitate. How could he explain this? How could he possibly explain the true nature of the world in a way that Tobi - right here, right now - could understand? Sacrifices and compromises had to be made. Kakashi and Rin were the only ones who knew that. 

Maybe Rin was good at explaining it. But she was a zealot - a fanatic who truly believed what she was saying. She was persuasive, earnest, manipulative. Kakashi was absolutely none of these things. And everybody said she had been good with Tobi. She would have been able to explain the world in her simple, beautiful way. Kakashi thought too much. He always had. There was nothing else to do, staring at clouds.

Slowly, Kakashi said, “You know how…when you break a bone, and it heals badly. You have to break it again so it sets right?” Tobi frowned, but he nodded. So he still remembered the many, many, many broken bones he had suffered. “It’s like that. The world has to heal. So it must be broken. When it heals, we’ll all be happy. Got it?”

But Tobi just frowned. Damn, and Kakashi had been pretty proud of that one. “Itachi-kun broke. Is he gonna heal?”

Kakashi hesitated. Rin would have said yes. Rin would genuinely believe that this suffering was necessary to heal Itachi, and that through her loving oneesama guidance he would become happy and fulfilled. Kakashi couldn’t say the same. What the kid needed was retirement and flower garden and a normal-ass foster parent, not a war under another flag. 

Well, time to pull an old Rin special. Also, like, a frequent tactic anybody used when dealing with Tobi. 

“Sure,” Kakashi lied. “Wait a little bit. He’ll become your friend again. You’ll like that, right?” Tobi nodded eagerly. Wow, he was stupid. “Do you…want to see your friends again?” Tobi nodded even more empathetically. “I can show you your friends again.”

Kakashi hadn’t thought about the words before he said them. Maybe Tobi was contagious like that. But Tobi’s unfocused eyes were already widening, his posture straightening a little. “Gai’s here too?”

And before he could think about it, before he could realize what a bad idea it was, Kakashi stretched out his hand. He found his voice lowering, falling into a gentle lilt. “I can take you to Itachi-kun. But I can take you to Shisui too. And Rin. And…Kakashi. Would you like that?”

Tobi looked a little skeptical. Well, even he understood the concept of mortality. “Shisui-kun and Rin-chan and Kakashi-kun are dead. Um, that’s why I have their stuff. And why Kakashi-kun’s house is lonely.”

“Minato-sen - your sensei and your nee-chan are dead.” Rin would say good riddance. Kakashi - eh. “But Shisui and Rin and Kakashi just went somewhere else. I can take you to them. Is that what you want?”

“Someplace else?” Tobi asked, eyes widening. “No…I saw them…”

“Just a bad dream,” Kakashi said. “That’s all.” He stretched his hand out further, leaving it in early reach of Tobi. “You can at least see them. Just to be sure. Then you can see for yourself that they’re okay. We’ll be quick.”

Tobi's face was so innocent. It was impressive - the clearest contrast to Rin’s own innocent face. There was no similarity. It shouldn’t be true. Weren’t they equally…?

Tobi reached out to Kakashi. Kakashi held his breath. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted this. This, this one thing, this desire - so overpowering, like a raging flame, like a bolt of lightning. It was addictive. If Obito just came home, then -

Tobi froze. “What about Sasuke?”

“What about him?” Kakashi asked blankly. 

And Tobi’s hand retreated. He looked to the bed, at the sleeping child. “If Tobi goes, Sasuke’s alone. I can’t let him be hurt alone. He needs me.” Tobi looked back at Kakashi, shaking his head firmly. “Tobi’s friends don’t need Tobi. Sasuke needs me. Tobi’s sorry, Dog-man, but Tobi can’t leave.”

Of course he couldn’t. He wouldn’t be the Obito they knew if he could. He wouldn’t be the man he and Rin loved if he made that choice.

If there were baddies, there were good guys. That was inherent. Obito was, and always would be, a good guy. That - and only that - would always keep them apart. 

“Your friend will be watching over you,” Kakashi rasped. “Always. So…don’t be sad. And don’t be scared. Your friends are doing it all for you.”

Tobi…squinted at him. For just a second, his eyes seemed clear. “Doing what?”

Uh oh. Kakashi cast a hasty genjutsu, and Tobi - Obito? Just for a second? - slumped in his seat. Kakashi stepped through kamui into…Kamui, just as quickly. This had been his worst idea of the last two years, which said a gratuitous amount.

Why was Rin breaking the bone? Well, for world peace. Love, friendship, harmony, death to the real baddies, etc. For Obito. For a world that deserved him, and where he could feel safe. Where Tobi could put Tobi down and become Obito again, if that was what he wanted. If he could. If that wasn’t possible - if Kakashi and Rin were too late to save him - then all Rin wanted was to create a world where Tobi could live happily and safely.

Why was Kakashi doing this? So he could be with Rin and Obito.

And the worse person of the two was obvious.