#our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter

[blondebrainpowered]

"Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter."

Martin Luther King, Jr.

[memepipboy]

I don’t get political on here too often, but as someone who has loved ones being immediately affected by recent events, I think I’d be remiss to not say anything.

One of the spokes in the wheel of Fascism is mass controlled media, which we see with TikTok now being a heavily censored app that won’t allow you to freely look up very real things that have already happened within the last two days. I.e Trump admitting that he rigged the election, and “Elon musk n*zi” shows no results, instead asking that you educate yourself before looking into “hateful content.”

Another spoke is disdain for human rights. Schools in Virginia have already subscribed to the idea to out trans kids to their parents, potentially putting them in harmful situations in every aspect of their life. A bill was signed to not respect and recognize pronouns or gender. Migrants who had appointments scheduled for entering the US had everything cancelled, and the app shut down forcibly. An order was rescinded to advance economic and educational equity for people of color.

And it’s only day two.

I’m mad. I’m infuriated because this affects everyone and everything I know and love.

All of this to say: keep yourself safe. Keep your trans friends safe. Keep your migrant friends safe. Keep believing and fighting for what’s right. Is it scary? Yeah, kind of. But it’s scarier to watch it happen and not say something about it.

Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.

[without-ado]

“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”

중대한 일들에 대하여 침묵을 지킬 때 우리의 삶은 종말을 고하기 시작한다.

―Martin Luther King Jr.

[wasteofbandagesxx]

Too young

{Dazai x reader}

"Hey Y/n, what's your dream?"

You thought long and hard on that question. You've never considered what you wanted to be when you first joined the mafia, but recently you came up with a dream. A life that your heart truly desires.

"Isn't it obvious? I want to become an amazing artist and write poems."

You knew living in the port mafia life wasn't easy. Dreams hardly come true once you join the organization. It's no children's playground, but kids are now joining the fights these days, either by choice or force. You've wanted to leave, you had doubts that you would fit into the port mafia, that you would get close to Dazai's level. You try to protect him the best he can, you would gladly sacrifice yourself for him. You've been trying to convince Dazai to run away with you, but he was too stubborn on finding a purpose to live. This isn't the answer, it never was.

"Dazai, listen to me. I know you want to find a purpose to live, but this isn't it. No matter how hard I try convincing you to run away, you would refuse and try committing suicide." You huffed. Dazai just responds with a giggle as he swings upside down on a tree trunk. You look up from the ground, sitting against the tree comfortably on a nice spring day. You glared at the boy covered in bandages but Dazai couldn't care less. "I'm serious Dazai. I want you to have an actual purpose to live, why won't you let me help you?"

Dazai falls silent and shrugs. He's mood immediately changed and it was worrying. "I guess it's because I don't want you to worry so much about me or waste your time. Focus on your purpose, not mine." He said plainly, he took the book you were reading from your hand and pulls it close to his face, surprisingly his face hasn't gone red yet from being upside down for so long. "Hey!"

"This book seems boring, I don't understand how your such a bookworm." He blabberd out as his face slowly turns red, he quickly sits up straight on the tree branch and gasps for air, making you giggle at his suffering. "It's because it's something that a kid would do, they read. We're 14, we should do things that teens do. This book is also interesting, it's full of poems about life and death." You explained before snatching the book from him. Dazai rolled his eyes and hopped off the tree branch to sit by you. You've always questioned yourself if your going to survive or not. You mostly worry about Dazai, wondering if he's gonna survive past his teen years or not.

"Hey Dazai, don't you think we're too young for all this port mafia stuff?" You asked. There was no response, just complete silence. He sighed, shaking his head before turning to look at you seriously. "Y/n, age doesn't matter when it comes to something like this. It all begins with us minors. Even if I were to try and escape with you, they would just bring me back here while you get your brains blown out. I witnessed the old bosses death, I'm Mori's alibi and therefore, I can't just leave. Doesn't matter if we're young, I'm sure we'll make it past our teen years." He said plainly, his eyes showing nothing but regret. Regretting the fact that he had to crush your dreams of escaping, and living a normal life together.

"Bummer....hey, promise me we'll both try to survive until the very end. Let's do it together." You said with hope in your eyes. Dazai was hesitant, and promises meant nothing to him, they were cheap. He couldn't break your heart though, he couldn't refuse to make a promise with you. You held your pinky up for him to make a promise, he couldn't refuse. "Alright, promise." He locked his pinky with yours as the promise was officially made.

"Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if you died first, you do suck at keeping promises." You laughed, Dazai scrunched his nose and flicked your cheek. "I, too, can keep my promises!" He huffed "yea right." You joked.

"Tag, your it!" He tags you and runs off with your book, you didn't even notice that he took it. You groaned in annoyance and began to chase him. "Give that back!!"

He just giggled and kept running, "Come and get me!"

"Dazai!!"

8 years later.

At the graveyard. It was beautiful, grave stones decorated and spoiled with gifts. The wind passes by every minute, softly and delicately. Leaf after leaf, they were everywhere as the trees slowly sway back and forth. There was a man, sitting behind a grave stone. The same as always, his humorous personality, his smartness and bravery, covered in bandages, but different clothing. The only things he's missing was a best friend, and closure. Where'd all the times go? The man wonders, staring aimlessly at the sky. He's laughed, and cried, and cried again. He felt lonely. Not only did his feelings change a bit, but his perspective of life as well, to save innocent people.

He joined the arm detective agency, because one of his old friends told him to find a new purpose, to do what's right. It's almost to what you've been telling him back when you were kids. He wishes you could see him now, he wishes you could've kept you alive to this day. "I'm sorry I didn't run away with you, Y/n." He mumbles out, his voice slightly cracking. He sighs deeply and runs his fingers through his hair, remembering the feeling of your hands playing with his hair. He watches the birds that passes by, two birds of a feather he thought as he imagined the two of you flying away to freedom.

"You were right Y/n, we were too young." He mumbles out again, the tone in his voice filled with sadness and sorrow.

"Dazai!" A young man calls out, atsushi nakajima, Dazai's apprentice. He ran up to Dazai with no air in his lungs, as if the little tiger boy was running for hours finding Dazai. "I've been looking for you. Kunikida is gonna be mad if he finds out your slacking off again." Atsushi said while trying to catch his breath. "Sorryy, got a little tired. Let's get going yea?" Dazai immediately put on his playful act and got up to leave, until atsushi struck a question at him.

"By the way, I heard you when I was by that tree over there. What did you mean by we were too young?" He asks. Dazai fell silent, he wasn't aware that he was listening, was too caught up in the moment to notice his apprentice. "It's nothing, let's get going yea? You did say kunikida would get mad if we don't get working, and I don't feel like getting yelled at." He says with a yawn, giving atsushi a playful smile and pats him on the head like a little kitty cat.

"Right!" Atsushi immediately walks away, not bothering for his superior to catch up with him. Dazai's smile quickly disappeared once atsushi left, he took one good look at the grave stone before putting his hands in his pockets and walks away.

Y/n, last name

July 6th 2001- December 23rd 2015

Dazai's mind was constantly on you. Always had these scenarios in his head of you guys living a happy life. The words you've told him were constantly playing in his mind. "Hey Dazai, don't you think we're too young for all this port mafia stuff?" Your voice was constantly nagging at him, he felt sick. As if you were next to him, it was unpleasant, because you aren't actually there. He kept walking with a broken heart, but still kept his head high, trying to stay strong just for you. Your face will forever remain in his memories, and your words. He wish he could've gave you the life you wanted, but that dream was long gone. Your words constantly playing in his mind.

"Too young."

[xcaffeineandcuddlesx]

♬ i bet on losing dogs - mitski, your best american girl - mitski ♬

- evening, the undercroft -

“do you… think i’m good?”

the question stuns me. it’s not perplexing, nor unsurprising, but i’ve never considered it. of course, objectively, i believe he’s good. he’s sebastian sallow, for merlin’s sake. headstrong and making sacrifice after sacrifice even if it’s not his own because he’s relentless, driven by love. he’s always had good intentions no matter how he achieved what he wanted. even if it meant lying to his best friend. even if that meant manipulating people like me. even if it meant killing his uncle.

“i’m sorry?” i ask in return, unsure if i heard it correctly.

how could i not? it’s silent otherwise. merely a low crackle of a fire in the undercroft’s makeshift hearth and a ticking clock somewhere, but it’s just us. I shift to face him more directly as we lounge on a sofa, the tall stacks of books and some miscellaneous homework long forgotten as we had drifted into thoughtful silence.

i can see the misery, though. his downcast eyes being filled with such despair, such conflict.

“please, i need you to be honest with me. am i good?… am i a good person?” his voice cracks and it’s a painful reminder that things weren’t supposed to happen as they did. not that either of us needed another reminder.

the end of our fifth year is coming too quickly to an end. the classes are becoming shorter, more of a blur as the days fade away like smoke in the wind. it’s disorientating and the disassociation we’re experiencing is weighing heavily on every aspect of our lives. most days, it’s like i’m floating through the halls, like i’m in a weird sensory deprived dream as the faces and voices turn unrecognizable, like muffled buzzing, not even sure of the day of the week. the o.w.l.s came and went, i think, and now the both of us are left wandering the castle, trying to pick up the broken pieces of our youth.

the students are ecstatic about the upcoming summer, and every mention of their plans gouges a small part of me out, carving deep until i’m hollow. i hear them talk over meals about their family’s summer houses or trips they’ve planned, the promises of exchanged owls and slumber parties. all the while, i’m being congratulated by faces i’m not even sure i’ve seen.

my first year introduced into a world of whimsy and i become the “hero of hogwarts”. most have no idea the things i had to do to earn such a title. it’s made me sick. physically, mentally, emotionally sick. the late nights, overloaded course work, expectations, favors, expeditions with classmates, watching the cruelty of poachers, raids, battles, trials, death threats from adults in full confidence of them knowing i’m only a student, the blood on my hands.

i couldn’t just stop it once i had begun. i couldn’t just return to safety behind the castle’s walls and resume classwork as though the safety of every man, woman, and child in the school, neighbouring towns, and highlands were at stake and i was the only one trusted to, expected to, and even capable of coming to the rescue.

i didn’t sign up for this. neither did he.

we weren’t supposed to face the world the way we did. we weren’t supposed to do the adult’s jobs, no matter how grown we believed we were. we weren’t supposed to be heroes, we were supposed to be kids.

that’s what we are; kids.

he’s just a boy. a crestfallen, scared, mournful, alone, and traumatized boy.

so now isn’t the time to define what ���good” means or to explain that the world isn’t comprised of black and white or “good” or “bad”, but of horribly muddied shades of grey that are entirely up to perception. he doesn’t want to hear about the intricacies of morality. he wants to be reminded he’s still capable of being loved.

i can’t possibly look at him the same way. nor can he look at me the same he did at the beginning of the year. i’m nowhere near a saint, but perhaps our histories is what makes us perfect for each other. after all, the pot shouldn’t dare be the one to call the kettle black.

“of course you are, seb,” i attempt to soothe him, mustering as much emotion as i could. he nods, hearing what i said, but not as through he believed it.

the conversation was difficult to hold after that. i knew he wanted to say more. he wanted to repeat his offenses and for me to kiss away the worries anyhow. he wanted to remind me of what he’s done and push me away, to self sabotage his growth to have an excuse to hide away like a recluse without shame. he wanted- no, he needed more. he needed someone, now more than ever. he needed me. needed to be told he’s human beneath it all, that his blood bleeds red the same as everyone else’s and isn’t tainted black like he believes. he needs to be reminded that he not only can be loved, but that he is.

it’s been especially hard since ominis has left us to our own devices for now, needing a break to rationalize his life and choices. neither of us can blame him.

i feel… nothing. nothing at all and everything all at once. i’m spread thin. i’m doing all i can to be here for sebastian and still preoccupied with my own life and loss. professor fig died. he died and i know it wasn’t because of me, but if only i was a little quicker, a little stronger, a little wiser. if only, if only, if only. i knew him for only a few months, but he’s been paramount to my new life. he was a beloved teacher that truly dedicated his time to the betterment of his students. i feel that his avoidable death is pinned on me. i was supposed to a savior and his blood has stained my hands like all the others have. what good are my abilities if i can’t even save those that help me? what good are they if i can’t even maintain normalcy?

nothing has been the same. not me, not sebastian, not ominis, not anne, not the faculty, and certainly not my relationship.

we’re closer than ever, i suppose, but how close is close when each of our minds are wandering light years apart?

sebastian fiddles with the corners of the parchment he’s been toying with for the last hour. it’s another drafted letter for anne. an apology, first step towards reconciliation, a goodbye, self-justification, explanation, i haven’t any clue at this point with how many he’s written.

he’s defeated and solemn, like how you would expect a kicked puppy to look: vulnerable and strangely still trusting despite it all. he looks the part, too. his close are wrinkled, eyes are sunken and devoid of the typical glint of happy mischief, cheeks stained with hours of silent tears, hair tousled, his nose reddened from the constant weeping-induced nose running, and lips chapped from dehydration.

there’s no book that could ever teach someone to manage this type of pain, this level of compiled guilt and shame. we weren’t born with the know how on gluing the pieces back together one by one when your entire world falls apart.

so i do the only thing i know i can to help. i take the note from him and set it down, the ink having long been ruined with blotched mixes of tears and ink, and pull him into a hug.

the sound he makes, heart wrenching, is never one anyone would expect to hear from him. halfway between a choked sob and stifled breath, he lets his face fall on my shoulder and unashamedly breaks.

his body convulses, racked with forceful and raw barks of pain.

i have to blink away several tears myself as he crumbles, what little composure he had left tearing and ripping at the seams. the lump in my throat is hard to ignore as i fear it may strangle me soon. he grips at the loose fabric of my uniform where he’s hugging me, grounding himself to the only constant he has in his life right now.

with one hand making small strokes up and down his back, i use my other to smooth down his hair, holding him close to me.

“i didn’t mean to… i didn’t want to become a bad person,” he manages through shaky breaths and hiccups. “ca-can’t even go home now. haven’t got anyone else to go to.”

“i know, baby, i know.”

i couldn’t maintain a brave face for him and began to sniffle. we were a mess. holding each other and breaking down like the world was ending because for us, it was.

when it’s just the two of us, hero of hogwarts and brave (former) best duelist of the castle, we could let our facade fall away, knowing nobody else could truly grasp the weight on our shoulders. we don’t have to be a formidable duo when it’s just us. we don’t have to pretend like the other isn’t broken seemingly beyond repair.

i eventually lean back, letting him lay across me as he cries until my blouse is soggy. until he’s exhausted and limp.

i try to quiet my whimpering to not wake him, but i can’t help but think of where i’ll go after this. even if i do go back home, my parents wouldn’t understand, they couldn’t possibly.

i’m so different from the person i was merely a handful of months ago. my hair is shorter, poorly chopped after being singed too many times in battle, and my hands are rough with callouses and scabs. i’m unsure how much of my former self i still resemble. at the very least, i know that i have more skin covered in scars than i do freckles and that i have new muscle growth from the running, climbing, borderline parkour, and combat.

i definitely don’t think, act, or speak the same way i did before. i’m not the same bright and eager little girl my parents had proudly gushed over when i received my letter. i can’t go home like this and risk breaking their hearts. i can’t just resume my life like i haven’t done the things i’ve done.

i remember reading of a spell called “obliviate”…

not too sure what i want to do with this yet, but i have an idea of where it’ll go ! i have a bit more in writing, so it may become a mini series of sorts? i’m not sure how well i like this prompt, but i wanted to put it out there anyhow because broken seb is my emotional support animal rn.

please give any feedback and tips you have !!

there’s so much potential with both of their stories and i know angsty seb is popular, but there’s more to him than masked anger and guilt. he would be hardest on himself and begin a downwards spiral, searching for validation that he’s not as bad as he thinks he is.

don’t get me wrong, i love a good seb x mc that’s joyful and loving, but i also love to put characters into hypothetical snow globes and shake it real hard.

stay happy and hydrated,

xoxo ellie

[mckitterick]

A few Martin Luther King Jr quotes for today

On the one hand, we must accept the finite disappointment, but in spite of this, we must maintain the infinite hope.

- “Shattered Dreams,” 1962

Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.

- sermon delivered in Selma, Alabama, 1965

I say to you today, my friends, that in spite of the difficulties and frustrations of the moment, I still have a dream.

- “I Have a Dream,” 1963 

[thequeenskeep]

Mind Over Matter 🛸

Meditation

Magic exists all around us but its intrinsic link to life, makes it unidentifiable . The magic we seek externally is unrecognizable because we struggle to heed it internally. Life neither screams nor shouts, it whispers in the wind, sings as the sea, hums with the bugs. When it is silent you can feel the slightest shift. Silence brings awareness to all that is. The skill of self-mastery and inner knowing is a complex and nuanced study. The fractals of life itself reside within us. In silence, we can attune to our slow song and engage in sensual play with life.

Meditation gives us a peek into the vast cosmos of our psyche. Once you have tapped into this tantalizing potentiality it’ll keep you coming back for more drops of its sweet nectar. When we first begin the practice of stillness it may prove difficult since it’s not something we are adept to. First, know that the process is infinite; like the symbol [of infinity], our lives, nay our souls, are engaged in a never ending dance. We learn what we must, how, and when we must. Do not be discouraged by the challenge of a new venture. Engage with a playful curiosity; allow yourself to be swept up like an equestrian allowing its stead to lead.

There are 3 practices that are ideal for beginners; simple enough to understand powerful enough to transform. It is okay if our minds wander this is part of the initial experience.

The first is breath work. We find ourselves in a comfortable position, resting our eyes, we take the 3 deepest inhales and exhales we have all day allowing ourselves to relax. Returning to our normal breathing we feel the energy within us with each breath. Black swelling from the soles of our feet or pelvic bone up to the top of our head as we inhale; and white flushing back down to our feet with every exhale. Sense your essence climbing up your spine, filling your brain, reaching for something higher. Here we are engaging and syncing with our heart and blood. As we inhale we are consuming our aura or spirit, it cleanses us reigniting our vitality.

The second practice is intentional thinking or listening. After we fall into rhythmic synchronicity our body will naturally continue energetic activity and focus will eventually shift to our mind. Allow yourself to think and observe. Memories will resurface, questions, tasks all things that go on will evoke a response within us. Be aware of how certain thoughts make you feel and question why they illicit such reactions. Our minds answer not only with words but flashbacks, past possessions forgotten. Pay attention to how your brain answers you; we may not understand immediately but if it’s within our minds eye the puzzle will fall together in due time. This ritual encourages us to see our contribution to our reality through self reflection. It also aligns us with our personal passwords, or synchronicities, with the Divine.

The third practice is akin to prayer. Here in our deep state of consciousness we are the closest we will come to the subconscious. As we listen to our thoughts we set intentions. This is a time to discover who we are and how to become to achieve passion in our purpose. We may ask and we may order. Keep it fairly broad; if we ask for something specific it may not turn out how we’d like.

“…When you get to this point, it is not material desire that activates awareness, but the hearts desire to live in the light of truth.”. [Living with a Feather Heart, Jennifer Sodini]

“Teach me how to meditate. Show me how to love myself. Please bless me with knowledge and wisdom of my purpose.” Know that in asking for these things we are given opportunities to identify this in reality. This is why awareness is an essential element. You can also engage in affirmations. “I am lovable. I am disciplined. I am thoughtful and curious about life.”

Through meditation we activate and connect with our life force energy; the magic that exists as space. We become one with our true nucleus and for a moment can touch this until it becomes natural to us like breathing. Meditation is the highest form of love and commitment you can show yourself. It gifts you the opportunity to see, hear, know, and love yourself. Be with yourself and you will discover something priceless within all. Question everything. Allow everything to fall away and just be.

In depth discussion of self reflection:

[colonellickburger]

Bruce Davidson. Dr. Martin Luther King. Birmingham, AL 1963

“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter”

[plantyberry]

Cloudcuckoolander Tally Part 3: Chapter 1-3 and 1-3-2: The Fencing Club, or, 'If I swallow Excalibur, does that mean I'll become invulnerable?'

And we are back for the newest installment of the Cloudcuckoolander tally, this time featuring the fencing club. And I'm definitely counting this thing as part of my NaNoWriMo wordcount tally goal dammit.

Now, for the sake of simplicity, the following factors are preferable (but not necessary) for your cuckoo MC

-Friends or more with Adrian -Gadgetry as a hobby -NOT have the following fears: Blood, Fear, Attention -Greed will help

Additionally, the Fencing Club is the only pick that allows you to have a mute MC while still grabbing the 'Keikaku' achievement.

On the way to the club:

I double-check to make certain that the passing university student isn't actually a zombie in disguise. cuckoo +1

The Adrian conversation (topics about clothes are mostly identical, with a few differences):

Red Cape + Frame = 3 or height = tall: -"Little?" I wonder if Adrian has suddenly gone blind. --"Aye, Aye, fairy godmother." +1 Cuckoo

Vampire Cape: +1 Cuckoo -Strike a stereotypical vampire pose. +1 Cuckoo --"I never bite and tell" +1 Cuckoo --"Lies and slander! I've got my own superior vampire teeth for that!" +1 Cuckoo

Spandex Tracksuit: -"I was thinking about wearing this instead of my uniform today." --"If we switched to plastic swords we could totally do naked fencing!" +1 Cuckoo -I say nothing, I merely start dancing the Tango de la Muerte. +1 Cuckoo (and the Keikaku achievement)

I launch right into the meat of the matter.

-"There was a murder during my last work shift…" --(if police)I begin to describe my brilliant werewolf culprit theory. +1 Cuckoo ---I'm not joking. +1 Cuckoo --(if reporter, paramedic)"All I have to say is… zombies." +1 Cuckoo ---I'm not joking. +1 Cuckoo --(if lab technician) In the end, this is the work of werewolves/zombies… +1 Cuckoo --(if wildlife biologist) I elucidate in great detail upon the nitty-gritty details regarding my genius mutant bear theory. +1 Cuckoo ---I'm not joking. +1 Cuckoo (Whenever applicable) I'm not joking but I pretend that I am in a brilliant double-blind maneuver. +2 Cuckoo

-"So I was recently mauled by an invisible poltergeist…" -- Show your bruised arm to Adrian ---"What? I find this situation perfectly normal." ----I'm not being sarcastic. +1 Cuckoo (Note: If your cuckoo score is under 5, you gain +1 Denial instead)

-"It seems that my apartment may be a little bit haunted…" --"I don't know, man, that bedroom ghost sounded pretty sexy." ---Obviously, I'm not joking. +1 Cuckoo

I launch into a long involved story regarding my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. -(follow the 'recently mauled by an invisible poltergeist' answer line) --"I blame the poltergeist. Also the werewolves, potential zombies, and I've got a sneaking suspicion that mutant fairies may be involved," you ramble. +1 Cuckoo

I believe actions speak louder than words

-I silently whip out my thirteen-page description of my past day including all details regarding my past work shift, my nightmare and strange injury, as well as the current haunted atmosphere of my apartment. --I wave my arms around in my best impression of a haunting ghost. +1 Cuckoo ---I reenact a scene from an earlier Knights of Our Lives episode that just so happened to appear in my dreams before. +1 Cuckoo (MC needs to know who Caleb is) ----I spin in a circle while twirling my arms. Surely Adrian will understand my meaning. +1 Cuckoo

Outside / Event prompts:

-"I'm on to you and your zombie ways, Sefu. No mercy shall be given by me or my flamethrowing sword!" +1 Cuckoo

-Perhaps it was the werewolf that ate Caleb Degaré? +1 Cuckoo (You need to know who Caleb is)

About the swords breaking: -(If you've got the stats or a high enough cuckoo score) "Don't worry, I've got the stats to save everyone." +1 Cuckoo (The Stats: Body >=30 or Body+Magic>=30 or (Talent=Agility + Body>=20) or (Interpretative Dancing>2 and Body>=20)

Post-Adrian Greetings

Talking about Arthur: "I just want to know if he's secretly a zombie/werewolf/mutant. He is, isn't he?" +1 Cuckoo I wonder if I accidentally left my apartment on fire this morning. +1 Cuckoo I wonder if an African swallow could really carry a coconut? +1 Cuckoo I hold up my phone with a Monty Python and the Holy Grail meme about coconuts on its screen. +1 Cuckoo I wonder if one of those sword swallower people could gulp down Excalibur? It'd be handy to be your own sheath. +1 Cuckoo (Requires Arthuriana fanatic)

Asking about the Apocalypse: "Pure unfiltered meta knowledge." +1 Cuckoo

Ask how much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood. +1 Cuckoo

Changing your clothes:

-This is it! The perfect time to start a strip tease right in the middle of the practice hall! +1 Cuckoo (fear mustn't be 'attention')

Weapon Choice:

-Never mind the sabre, foil, and épée fencing swords. I really wish that I could use Excalibur to sword fight instead. Just like in the old tales of might and magicry. +1 Cuckoo (++)

Before the spar:

Talking to Hjordis about the swords breaking: -In the end, I can't help but suspect toilet gremlins. +1 Cuckoo

Tell everyone about what happened to you in the restroom: -"If there's something strange in your neighborhood, who you gonna call? Ghostbusters!" I burst out singing in a very thematically-relevant manner. +1 Cuckoo

When finisheing to prepare for the spar: -It's time to do the Dance of Joy +1 Cuckoo

The color of your sword: -…the color out of space. +1 Cuckoo (++)

Entering the piste: -I throw my extra glove straight in Sefu's face. That's what they're meant for, right?! +1 Cuckoo -I AM Michael Jackson. I put on a single glove and moonwalk to the piste. +1 Cuckoo

-I strike a delicately posed stance, balanced on one leg, knee bent and lifted above my hips, arms extended at my sides like the wings of a crane, as my sword points at the unseen heavens above. +1 Cuckoo -I gravely inform the audience that only masked eyes are allowed to behold my full splendor. +1 Cuckoo

-Frosty the Snowman dances seductively down my spine. +1 Cuckoo

The sword shower incident:

Note: Aside from the stats, you may succesfully pass the sword dance checks if you are a changeling or possess the Lucky talent if your dice roll goes well, though it's an obviously unreliable method to succeed unless you intend to save scum this until you force a pass.

Unwilling rescuer: -I duck and cover and- no, why are my feet moving forward?! No, no, no I'm not trying to 1v1 an entire shower of sharp shrapnel! --I wonder what I should have for dinner tonight? +1 Cuckoo

If the rescue failed, but the people wore masks -Now it's definitely time to do the Dance of Joy +1 Cuckoo --No unmasked eyes are allowed to behold my glory indeed. +1 Cuckoo

Wrapping up (Post good end)

-I launch into a statistical analysis of the causes, probability percentages, prevention methods, and data anomalies found within all train derailment accidents within the past twenty-five years. Yes, most certainly this is an appropriate conversational topic right now. Cuckoo +1

Changing area: Armory -"Don't let the darkness consume your soul or the splinters find your throat," I enigmatically tell my departing clubmate. Cuckoo +1

Changing Area: Men's restroom -"Don't let the darkness consume your souls," I enigmatically call out as my two squabbling clubmates leave before me. Cuckoo +1

Changing Area: Ladies' Restroom -"Don't let the darkness consume your soul." Cuckoo +1

Changing Area: Universal Restroom -"Don't let the darkness consume your soul," I enigmatically tell my cheerily departing clubmate. Cuckoo +1

Changing Area: Corner of the Fencing Hall -"Don't let the darkness consume your soul," I enigmatically reply. Cuckoo +1

It you're possessed (Just… Why?), there is one option right before the sparring match -He's coming! He's coming! He's coming! Cuckoo +1

Out of these options, the Tango de la Muerte (Interpretative score helps succeed the check) and Masked Eyes (Will and Magic +1) option are good picks, in my opinion. Getting the good end is a bit harder in this club that in the polo club because you have to pick the right options to make it happen. Additionally, an important thing to note is that successfully fending off the splinter shower will injure your ankle slightly, which will make escaping the hydra more difficult, if you wish to avoid Merlin forcefully healing you later on.

[xspeter]

𝑻𝑯𝑬 1

𐬺 ➾ 𝐷𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑊𝑖𝑛𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑥 𝑓𝑒𝑚！𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𐬺 ➾ 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒊𝒏 𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒔𝒖𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒄𝒆, 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖.

𐬺 ➾ 𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑙𝑢𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑘𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡！

There’s something so calming about autumn in New York.

Everyone is calming down from their summer adventures, central park is littered in decorative leaves, and every shop in town is decorated for the season.

You take a deep breath and are met with the warm smell of pumpkin as you enter the local coffee shop. The barista, who must know your order by heart at this point, greets you with a warm and welcoming smile.

You thank the woman briskly as she hands you your coffee, the warmth immediately filling your cold hands as you grab it.

You take a sip of your drink as you leave. As soon as you step onto the sidewalk you’re met with the sound of children laughing, and you glance towards the noise. You’re met with the sight of two children walking to school, one boy and one girl. Your heart pangs a bit at the nostalgia the sight gives you.

No matter how much you try to forget him, you know he’ll always be there. Like a moth to a flame, your thoughts will always eventually lead back to him- to Dean.

The way things ended between the two of you was no one’s fault, it was just a struck of fate that things had to end the way they did. You both wanted different things out of life. He wanted to stay on the road and fulfill his fathers legacy, and you.. well you wanted more.

You wanted an actual job, a stable life, kids, marriage…

Well, more like you wanted all that with him.

When you finally worked up the courage to express these thoughts to Dean, he had thought you were joking.

“What do you mean?” He asked, his warm hands creeping into your own cold ones.

You sniffled, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear, you explained more in depth. “I don’t want this life anymore, Dean. We don’t even have a real home. We’re constantly in different hotels, I don’t have any friends- no money- no nothing! I just want… I want a stable life for both of us. Do you really want to live like this for the rest of your life?”

Dean was silent for a moment, his pupils dialting in shock as he processes what you’ve said. What you’ve admitted to him.

In all the years he’s known you, which is a lot, Dean has never heard you express these thoughts.

“What’s gotten into you, y/n? You’ve never said anything about this before. I mean- since when did you want such a simple, boring life? I mean, what? You’re just gonna go live day to day just waiting to die? Because that’s what everyone else in this world does. We’re lucky! We get to have adventure. We don’t have to just sit down at some boring desk job with the rest of our lives laid out in front of us.” He said hurriedly, his breathing beginning to become erratic.

You bit your lip, “What if.. What if that is what I want, Dean?”

Dean stiffened, his hands instinctively going into his jacket pockets.

“Then I guess this is where we say goodbye.”

You quickly push the memory in the back of your mind, instead deciding to continue on your journey to work.

Of course you often wonder where Dean is and what he’s doing. Last you heard he was on his way to Stanford to pick up his brother, but that was seven months ago.

Sam, his brother, had the same idea as you. He wanted a different life, something without all the danger and unpredictability.

You know it hurt Dean when Sam left, but he still had his dad. And you think a part of him always knew Sam was different from the two of them. Even when you were growing up with the boys you could tell. Sam was more reserved, smarter. Where as Dean and his father were more adventurous, constantly looking for danger where danger shouldn’t be.

You feel a sense of relief as you enter your work building, happy to finally escape from the cold.

Dean knows there’s no possible way he’ll see you. New York is a big city, what’re the chances he’ll see you of all people?

“You okay?” Sam asks, placing a hand on his shoulder. Dean turns his head to look at him and goes he’s a nervous smile. “Yeah.”

Sam nods, obviously not believing him.

So much has happened since you left. Sam joined him on the road to find his father and also got powers, they found the demon who murdered their mother, and Dean would have died if his father hadn’t given his life for him.

So, yeah. A whole new bowl of trauma.

“You nervous you’ll see her?” Sam asks. Sam hasn’t seen you since he left home for Stanford, but he knows you leaving really hurt Dean.

Dean scoffs, “No.”

Sam just smiles, “Of course you’re not.”

“I’m really not.”

“It’s okay if you are-”

“I’m not!” Dean yells.

Sam puts both hands up in surrender, turning to continue putting his stuff in the drawers of their motel.

Dean sighs and rubs his temple. Of course he’s nervous he’ll see you. He just wishes things could still be how they were, when the nerves in his tummy were for a different reason.

Deans stomach flutters with butterflies as he knocks on your door. He grips the flowers so tightly his knuckles begin to turn white.

The door opens with a click and he’s met with the gentle, smiling face of your mother. “Hello, Dean.” She says cheekily. Dean laughs nervously, “Hello, ma’am.” He says, his accent slipping out a bit.

“She’ll be down here soon. Why don’t you have a seat while you wait?” She asks, leading the younger boy inside. Dean swallows as he takes a seat, careful to smooth down any wrinkles in his suit jacket.

“You look very handsome.” Your mother says, and Dean thanks her with a smile as she retreats up the stairs, most likely going to tell you that he’s arrived.

Dean fiddles with the pink flowers in his hands. Who would’ve thought going to prom with your long-time crush would be more nerve wracking then hunting monsters?

Dean practically shoots out of his seat once he hears the click of your heels down the stairs. Slowly, he watches you emerge. Your hair is down, and your wearing a beautiful flowing blue dress. You look like a princess.

“You look.. Wow.” Dean stammers, and you giggle, a dark pink coating your cheeks as your eyes sparkle up at him.

“You really think so?” You ask.

“I know so.”

“Are you ready to go?” Sam asks, pulling Dean away from the memory. Dean stands, rubbing his hands on his pants and rolling his neck.

“Yeah.”

Dean throws his head back against the leather seat with a groan. He forgot New York traffic was practically hell on earth.

“Well this sucks.” Sam sighs out annoyed.

“Give me a run down of the case again?” Dean asks Sam. Sam opens his notebook and skims over the details for Dean.

“Uh, women in their late 20’s are going missing off the subway. Usually y/h/c, y/e/c…” Sam swallows when he realizes who the description reminds him of.

Dean squeezes his eyes shut. “You’re positive?”

“I sure as hell wish I wasn’t.”

Your nose and cheeks are flushed a bright red by the time you get to the subway. Your hair blows against your face harshly as the train wizzes past, the crowds of people around you all pushing to get to where they’re going.

You used to feel overwhelmed in the subway, all the people and the constant rush of the train, but now you can positively say you’re an expert at navigating the underground station.

You push your hair behind you ear to prevent it from blowing in your face again, and out of the corner of your eye your positive you see someone eerily similar. Your head snaps in the direction, but instead of seeing him, you see no one. Suddenly your aware of how quickly the station has emptied. Leaving you and and just a few others.

You rub your eyes and try to ignore the fact that you’re starting to see things. You hadn’t done something like that in months- it must’ve been that memory from earlier.

Before you can think too much about it though, your subway arrives and the doors are opened. A cascade of people in all sorts of attire step out, and you push your way past them and step in.

Very few people are on your cart, with only a young couple sitting a few seats down from you. You try to assure yourself and assume it’s because of the late hour, but no… that wouldn’t be right, would it? It’s rush hour.

A sinking feeling in your stomach starts as you begin to put some of the pieces together.

Something paranormal had to be happening. Or were you just being paranoid?

You had hunted for just as long as Dean, your parents raising you just as Deans father had raised his boys. You knew the signs, but there was no way that’s what was happening here right?

The train stops once more and the couple gets off, and now you’re alone.

You take a deep breath and try to calm your nerves, you fists clenching and unclenching. You do your best to ignore the creaking of the train, or the way the lights begin to flicker.

A rotten smell fills your nose, and your now absolutely positive that something not natural is happening.

You reach into your purse to see if there’s anything at all that could help you, but stupidly you’d thrown out any and all weapons except for some pepper spray back when you’d first moved.

The air around you starts to feel suffocating as a black smoke begins to seep through the vents and any cracks it can, your eyes go wide as you start to panic.

The only thing you can think to do is chant an ancient protection spell under your breath, hoping that would drive the thing off at least for a second.

The smoke eventually meets in the middle, coming together to form a shadow of a man. There’s no definitive features- just dark, black, smoke.

It turns it’s head to stare straight at you, and you quickly bolt for an emergency stop or a door or- or anything really.

The smoke stretches it’s arms though, it wraps itself around your body like a snake as it engulfs all your senses. It goes into your nose and covers your eyes until all you can see is black. You begin to panic swatting and punching at what feels like an invisible force.

Suddenly- the blackness is lifted. You begin to stumble and almost fall, but someone is there to catch you.

You know who it is before you even turn around. You had dreamed about being held by these arms again for months.

“Dean..” You whisper, finding your standing and slowly turning to face him.

“It’s me, baby.”

“So there’s some entity that’s coming after women who look like me?” You ask, fiddling with your thumbs. Sam and Dean had filled you in on everything that’s happened in the few months you’ve been gone. It hurts your head that you weren’t there for them when they lost their father- but there was no way you could’ve known.

Sam nods his head, “Pretty much.”

You furrow your brows, brining your hand to your lips and beginning to nibble on your nails. A nervous habit. “Do you know what it is?”

Sam shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, “No. That was the first time we’d ever saw the thing.”

You sigh, running a hand down your face, “Amazing.”

You glance at Dean. He hasn’t said much of anything since they saved you, and his silence is putting you on edge.

Sam must notice the tension between you and Dean, because he stands and leaves with a smile and an excuse of going out for some food.

Once you and Dean are left alone, things are even more awkward. You continue to take glances at him, and if he notices he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he stares at the table and fiddles with his thumbs.

“Dean…” You start, finally working up the courage to break the silence, but his position doesn’t change. You take a breath, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

He shrugs his shoulders, finally looking at you for the first time since he saved you. “Wasn’t your fault.” He mumbles.

You sigh, you feel the familiar build up of tears in your eyes and you place your head in your hands. Your hair falls around your face creating a curtain around you.

“I know that.” You sigh, “I just… I just wish I could’ve been here.”

Dean scoffs, he pushes his chair out from under him with a screech as he stands to his full height. “You could’ve been here, y/n! But you chose to leave- you chose to leave me and our relationship and for what? So- so you could be hunted by monsters?” He rambles.

You sigh, you expected this would happen, just not so soon. “Dean…” You mutter.

For the first time you see just how this last year has effected him. The usual light playfulness was no longer in his eyes, instead there’s a dark sadness you’ve never seen on him before.

“Why did you leave me?” He suddenly asks, “Was I not enough for you? Did I not- Did I not make you happy?”

You shake your head so fast you could’ve gotten whiplash, quickly, you stand next to him and attempt to reach out for him, but he pulls away.

You bite your lip, “You were everything to me. You think it was easy for me to leave? You think I don’t regret it everyday?” You sob, “I just couldn’t live like that anymore Dean! I was lonely and I was sick of constantly putting my life on the line. What’s the issue with just wanting a normal life?”

He rolls his eyes, “Yeah, and being hunted by a demon is normal-“

“That’s not fair.” You say, “You know that’s not fair, Dean.”

Dean sighs and bites his lip, he runs a hand over his face and nods his head, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head and sit on the bed. “No. I’m sorry.” You say, “I should’ve… we could’ve kept in contact- or something… We didn’t have to break up. We could’ve gone long distance or-”

Dean sits down next to you and shakes his head softly, his eyebrows furrow and his eyes shine with tears, “No, we couldn’t of. There was no way we could’ve been able to stay together without seeing- feeling each other.”

“We would’ve made it work.” You mumble.

Dean sighs and rests his head in his hand, “We would’ve tried to, yeah, but… we would’ve just been hurting each other so much more.”

You sniffle and nod and pull your knees into your chest. No matter how much you didn’t want to admit it, he was right. The two of you would’ve only ended up hurting each other more in the end.

Slowly, Deans arm creeps around the middle of your back as he pulls you into his chest. You welcome his touch with open arms. The smell of pine cones and bond-fires filling your nostrils is one you’ve missed all too much. You snuggle closer in his hold, finally relaxing once you feel his arm tighten around you.

Hesitantly, you whisper, “I missed you. So much.” You say it so quietly you’re not even sure he heard you- but he did. He kisses the crown of your head and sighs out in relief.

“You have no idea.” He replies.

“You’re positive this’ll work?” You question Sam for what feels like the thousandth time tonight. Sam sighs, annoyance creeping in his tone as he replies, “Yes, i’m positive it’ll work.”

You swallow, “Okay,” You psych yourself up, “So all I gotta do is go in there and be bait?”

Sam nods, he closes his bad with a snap and throws it over his shoulder, “That’s pretty much it.”

Easy enough.

The three of you arrive at the subway station and slowly make your way down, it’s empty because of the late hour, only a few people every now and then.

Dean glances back at you every few seconds, clearly sensing the nervous energy you’re giving off. He slows his pace to match yours, letting Sam take the lead. “You don’t need to be nervous,” He says, “You’re the strongest woman I know. Plus, you’ll actually be able to protect yourself this time in case anything goes wrong.”

Your hand ghosts over the salt gun in your waistband and you reassure yourself. You groan, “I just feel a little… rusty, I guess.”

Dean chuckles, “You? Rusty? Last time I checked my girl is always on her A-game.” He says slyly.

You try to ignore the pink that begins to dust your cheeks as you shrug. The three of you walk in a comfortable silence as you get to the correct station.

Your chest fills with anxiety again, but you just roll your shoulders and push it into the back of your brain.

When the train arrives, the doors open with a swoosh and you enter. You glance back at dean as you do, reminding yourself he’ll just be in the train cart next to yours.

You sit and fiddle with your thumbs, the train cart is completely empty, which makes your anxious body feel even more uneasy. Your body rocks as the subway picks up speed, and you can’t tell if the lights are flickering like they would normally or if it’s because something else is here.

Your question is answered as the smell of something rotten begins to fill your nose, and your reaching for your gun before you can even process.

You have to remind yourself not to blow your cover, and instead take a breath, hoping the demon hadn’t noticed. The black shadow begins to creep into the cart just as it had before, and you mentally prepare yourself for whatever is about to happen.

The creature meets together to form a smokey figure of a man, just as it had before. The man walks towards you, and this time you really reach for your gun.

The man continues to creep closer just as Dean and Sam burst through the doors. Sam begins to chant some kind of prayer at the demon while Dean attempts to shoot at it.

The demon seems to have expected this though, because he continues to get closer to you until you’re eventually face to face.

“De-” You begin, but stop as the demon begins to fill your senses. It enters your nose and mouth, effectively choking you. You fight against it but it’s no use, your hands can’t even touch it.

Your vision goes black, and the last thing you see if Dean reaching for you before you pass out.

“Y/N? Are you awake?” Your vision is foggy as you open your eyes. You can’t make out the man in front of you, but you recognize his voice.

“Dean…?” You whimper out, your voice hoarse. You feel something wet hit your cheek as dean laughs and holds you closer to his chest.

“Yeah baby, it’s me. Thought I- thought I lost you for a second there.” He sniffles out.

You wrap your hands around his neck and pull him to your mouth. Dean ignores his shock and quickly accepts your advances. He kisses you sweet and slow, effectively showing you just how much he’s missed you and your touch these past few months.

When you pull away your met with his smiling face.

“You’ll never lose me,” You whisper, “Never again.”

𐬺 ➾ 𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐤𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭!

tag list - @fictional-characters-i-love-them

[adsagsona]

It was her first Christmas away from home--or the closest thing she could consider home. And it was her first Yule in this new place, this new era of being for both the world and Anne. She knew she ought to feel wistful for disappearing. She knew she ought to be worrying about how to get back to her own time as swiftly as possible, but Anne cherished the holiday season. It was the one time of the year that she allowed herself to slow down and enjoy the life she had and was allowed to live. Even so, it didn't stop her from feeling guilty for enjoying her time here, with Sihtric. Being happy in any form made her feel guilty.

"I read somewhere once that the ancient Romans referred to Christmas time as Saturnalia. Instead of celebrating the birth of a baby, they celebrated the renewal of life, the rebirth of the year as the new one rolled in." She smiled to herself as she turned over a pinecone in her hands. There were so many of them scattered around, floral infants waiting to spring up into eternal greenery. It felt strange that she could be sitting around so many strong and resilient pine trees while also holding the seed of one in her hand.

"But, whatever we call it, this is a time of hope and new beginnings." Turning to face him, her smile widened. Anne was grateful to be spending the end of the year with someone she cared about. It was far better than sitting in a corner silently or hiding away in her bedroom, listening to the fireplace crackle until the clock struck midnight. Anne held up the pinecone, pinched between three fingers. "I say we make a wish on this and then place it in the earth. When it grows, our wish will come true. And the hope and love that goes into it will grow for future generations to come."

After a moment, she lowered the pinecone and bit the inside of her cheek, suddenly feeling silly for suggesting such a thing. "It could be our tradition. Even if we're not together, we can still make our wishes and be connected, no matter where we are."

@awynter

Sihtric had quickly become fond of the strange young woman who he had literally picked up in a forest a few weeks ago. He was very glad he had persisted that day and made sure she was safe. He would never have forgiven himself. Anne was kind and intelligent, which probably didn't make her suitable for life on the road or as a Dane, but she had not voiced wanting to go yet.

They were feasting in the great hall of Uhtred, all people together, Dane and Christian. Sihtric never minded the others, as long as they didn't want to convert him. He knew Anne did not follow the gods either, but how she spoke about the Romans intrigued him. "How do you know all those things?" He couldn't read himself and a woman who could read was unheard of. "You are mightily clever, Anne." He pronounced it as 'An-ne'.

As she spoke about her wish and the pinecone, he smiled gently at her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Why don't we go search out a place where we can put it in the ground? Wrap yourself up warmly, it's cold outside."

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Not My Friend

Scene Rewrite/Taryn's Birthday Celebration

Scene: Obito calls Kakashi his 'Friend'

Words: 1,173

For: @sinnbaddie

“Kakashi, My Friend.” 

Kakashi hadn’t heard the rest of Obito’s sentence. As soon as he had heard those words leave his mouth his brain had shut down, blocking out everything else the other man had said.  

‘Friend’ 

It repeated in his mind. That one simple word which would leave him feeling warm and happy if he’d heard it from anyone else but had instead left him with an empty feeling inside of his chest when it fell from Obito’s lips. 

“Friend,” he finally spoke, his voice strained and his tongue beginning to burn when he said it. “Friend?” 

“Kakashi-sensei?” Naruto stared at him, but Kakashi paid him no attention. 

His eyes were glued on Obito who now stood firm in his position, eyes staring back at Kakashi with that same defiance he’d always looked at him with when they were kids. Daring him to say something and start a fight. 

“That’s what you are, isn’t it?” Sakura asked, a panicked squeak escaping her throat when Kakashi glared at her. 

“Do you have something to say, Kakashi?” Dragging his eyes away from his student, he stared at Obito once more. With each second that passed he felt the rage boiling up inside of him, and for once he didn’t want to contain it. 

He didn’t want to be the one who kept his emotions bottled up and allowed things to play out around him. 

“Friend?” He asked again, his voice dripping with anger. “Since when are we friends?” 

“You said- “ 

“I said that I believed in you!” He snapped. “I told you that I had done everything I could to fight for the world I thought you had wanted. For a better world where children weren’t forced to bury their teammates! I never called you, my friend!” 

“Kakashi-Sensei,” Naruto stepped forward, his mouth open and ready to argue on behalf of Obito. Before he could, though, a hand came down on his shoulder and pulled him back. When Kakashi looked past Naruto, he saw Sasuke standing there silently waiting.  

After all of this was done, he was going to have to thank his old student for stepping in to silence Naruto. 

“We were teammates,” Obito insisted. “We worked together to save Rin.” 

“Yes, we did all of that,” Kakashi confirmed. “But that doesn’t make us friends. Friends don’t pretend to be dead for twenty plus years while the other one mourns them. Friends don’t try to harm their buddies' students in hopes of putting the world under an eternal genjutsu. Friends don’t start a war that could cost more lives!” 

“I thought we already deal with this.” 

“We haven’t dealt with anything!” Kakashi snapped. “We haven’t had time. From the moment I realized you were still alive to right now we have been fighting each other and other threats. We haven’t had a moment to do anything but fight!” 

No time to process all of his grief, or the anger at realizing he’d been lied to for years about Obito’s death. 

No opportunity to deal with the emotions boiling up inside of him, because the world was in danger and how he felt didn’t matter compared to a threat that could lead to the end of every life on the planet.  

“Gai is my friend,” he spat, that anger flowing out into the open. “Tenzo is my friend. Kurenai, Asuma, Anko, Genma, Rin. They were all my friends! You were never that! You were too busy seeing me as an obstacle to your own goals rather than working with me and becoming my friend! And then you’d turn around and blame our faulty teamwork on me as if you held no responsibility!” 

They were words he’d heard over the years but refused to listen to because at the end of the day he wanted what Obito said to be true. 

Wanted them to be friends. 

To be something more than what they actually were. 

But that was just a fantasy, and the reality was that they had never even gotten along until it was too late. 

“I thought…” his hands clenched into fists, the blood draining from his fingers as he tightened them into a painful grasp. “I wanted for years to think of you as my friend. To think that we had actually managed to achieve some sort of bond, but it was a lie.” 

A lie he’d repeated to himself far too many times over the years. 

“We’re not friend,” he whispered, his fingers loosening and shoulders dropping as he finally accepted the reality that he’d tried so hard to deny. “If we were friends, you wouldn’t have stood by and watched me torture myself over yours and Rin’s deaths for twenty years.” 

Staring straight at Obito he watched as he processed everything that he’d said and prepared himself for the moment when Obito lost his cool and started yelling back at him, just as he always had when they were kids. 

The moment never came, though. 

Instead, Obito closed his eyes and sighed. “Do you always have to be right, Bakashi?” 

“Right?” Kakashi blinked. “I’m sorry, did I hear that correctly?” 

“Shut up,” rubbing a hand over his eyes Obito groaned. “Fine. Let me rephrase. My comrade.” 

Thinking it over, Kakashi nodded. “That’s better.” 

“Good,” dropping his hands back to his side, Obito finally met his eye. “We can work on the friendship thing after we beat the creepy lady's ass, agreed?” 

Anger simmered into frustration slowly. Placing a hand on his hip he leaned into it and sighed. “Fine,” he agreed. “But I’m nowhere near done with you.” 

Obito cringed. “Seriously? You have more to say?” 

“A lot more,” placing a hand on his hip he leaned into it. “And just wait till Gai finds out you called me your friend.” 

“You do not need to bring beast f- “raising his other hand, Kakashi shoved it directly into Obito’s face, silencing him before he could finish his insult. 

“You do not call me your friend and then insult my actual friend,” he warned with a slight growl. “Now shut up. We still have a threat to deal with. One that you helped bring about, may I remind you.” 

Obito shoved his hand away from his face. “You don’t need to remind me!” he snapped. “I’m well aware of the role I played in all of this! Now help me fix it, ass hole!” 

Hearing the old insult being thrown at him, Kakashi couldn’t help but smile. Everything around him was different, but for just a moment it felt like he was a kid again standing in front of his Sensei and Rin and arguing with Obito. 

If they survived this maybe they would fix the relationship that they never really had, but until then he was just happy to hear his old teammate insult him once again instead of acting like they were the best of friends. 

It meant he was working with the Obito he remembered, and not the one he’d made up in a cloud of survivor's guilt.  

[without-ado]

“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter” —Martin Luther King Jr. l MLK Day 2024: Jan. 15

[f1mike28]

In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies but the silence of our friends. Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about the things that matter.

Mercedes-AMG One man, one engine Handcrafted by Michael Kübler @f1mike28 in Germany Affalterbach.

Mercedes-AMG the Performance and Sports Car Brand from Mercedes-Benz and Exclusive Partner for Pagani Automobili. Mercedes-AMG Handcrafted by Racers.

[amone448]

“ Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter “

[qatheauthoress74]

Chapter "103" Part 1 Summary: "Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.” — Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.