#they probably ooc but idc

[cheekinpermission]

Twisted Wonderland has such a wonderful array of sibling dynamics!!

So beautiful <3

[justaz]

merlin who uses his magic everyday in ways that he doesn’t realize isn’t normal. magic helping him see in the dark so he can find his way in the woods or dark rooms with no problem. connecting with the woods around him so he always knows where he is and whats in the general vicinity which allows him to sense bandits just before they attack. using magic to keep warm in the cold or to cool down in the heat. confident and willing to go toe to toe with anyone bc he knows that regardless of what they throw at him, he could always win bc he could just use magic.

then somehow someway (post magic reveal) a sorcerer takes away merlin’s magic. or well just locks it away ig. but anyways merlin doesn’t have this part of him anymore and is left feeling empty, exposed, and vulnerable. arthur, the knights, and merlin going on a quest for answers to their problem and a way to get merlins magic back. but. but. but merlin is all jumpy and he’s rambling more than ever and is often reaching out to grab onto someone (usually arthur) and everyone’s confused and then they get ambushed and merlin freezes in the middle of the path like a deer. he’s watching everything go down around him with wide eyes until he’s targeted and one of the knights have to rush in to save him. afterward merlin is constantly holding someone and his grip is rather tight. he keeps looking around, his eyes scanning the trees around them over and over. when they try and settle down for the night, merlin wont leave the camp without an escort or two and when they’re trying to go to sleep, merlin is flinching at every noise in the woods around them and ends up shuffling over toward the person closest to him and laying pressed up against them.

arthur opening his mouth to tease and call him a coward when the word registers in his mind and he realizes that that’s what he’s actually seeing, merlin scared and defenseless. he ofc doesn’t realize the true depth of it all, i mean he knows merlin is missing his magic but he doesn't know that magic has always been a part of merlin, it makes him him. he’s had magic since he was born, he’s never known life without it. as he is now, he feels bare and exposed and blind and deaf and terrified. the knights are his defense rn and for the past few years, merlins been their protector so its a complete reversal of everything he’s ever known. he’s scared. arthur bites his tongue and lets merlin hold onto his arm and snuggle up close at night for some form of comfort and security. he doesn’t tease or mock and responds to his ramblings of fear with a level of gentleness the knights weren’t aware he even possessed. merlin slowly relaxing as arthur subtly comforts him without addressing it

[strayingsocks]

can you tell i'm obsessed with this au

+ extra

[highendsheep]

I wanted to be the one to kill you.

[inveniree]

I refused to do any work in class and instead imagined dr ratio staring at me across the room angrily because i wasnt doing any work in class

[anxi04]

a list of ways steph has used to stop tim from going super villain mode

tim, who currently has a random wannabe rogue two seconds away from death: get out of here spoiler i have it covered.

steph, not thinking much: this is kinda… cringe of you RR. like even more cringe than naming yourself red robin

tim, staring at steph cause the fucking AUDACITY: excuse me?!

bob, can see the light at the end of the tunnel: am i already in hell

———

steph, decided there’s not enough Chaos: tim when you become a rogue can you be the catwoman to my batman

tim, who is having a Very Bad Day and contemplating rogue status: ew gross never *throws up*

———

steph, has decided she is the only one actively stopping tim’s villain arc and found the best way to prevent it: what would you even make your villain name?

tim, drawing up a costume for a totally hypothetical villain arc: re-

steph: not red x right? you’re gonna be original with the name?

tim: …maybe i’d go with j-

steph: and you’d never lean into the whole joker junior thing cause that’s dumb

tim:

steph: and you HAVE to change your name cause no one’s gonna take a villain named after a restaurant seriously

tim, deleting the costume design: …i’d let the media name me.

———

tim, contemplating jokers murder: i-

steph, sprinting out of nowhere and throwing a snickers bar directly into his throat wrapper and all: hey rr.

tim, choking:

joker, thought he was about to turn a bat EVIL evil: what.

———

tim, thinking of joining ra’s:

steph: so why does ra’s have a crush on you

tim: motherfucking what.

ra’s, very much only wants tim as an heir(child): what.

tim, about to throw up: never mind.

ra’s, about to cry:

———

steph, sensing tim about to go off the deep end: wanna steal the batmobile and see how fast it goes

tim, very much distracted with that idea and forgetting the vicious plan he had before: can we attach rockets to it

[notabraincellinsight]

chatfics are so much fun, sometimes i do just need to live in a world where the jane prentiss attack in s1 of tma was avoided because jon offered to do her nails instead and they had a slumber party about it. a world where a groupchat with the avatars solely exists to shit on elias. put away the tragedy and trauma for a few hours and imagine everyone being friends and nothing hurting

[synnicall]

Maybe because it’s exam week or I’m just in the mood but roommate!keegan in a university au (bear with me)

I’m just fiending for a platonic relationship that really tests the boundaries of what people consider platonic.

He makes you breakfast before his 8am so by the time you get up for your 10am it’s ready to heat up in the fridge. The two of you usually eat dinner on campus or after you both get home from late classes, opting for something easy you two could make together.

Studying on the couch even when you feel like you can’t cram one more biological term into your brain. Laid across the couch, legs over his lap as he reads out your index cards, softly caressing your calf out of habit.

Walking into the living room to see him asleep on his chair, jaw agape like his head just fell backwards when he conked out, reading glasses askew on his face. His laptop was still open to a research paper he was reading when you close it softly, gently taking off his glasses and placing a blanket on his lap. You’ll wake him up in a couple of hours— that chair makes his back ache— but you know he needs the sleep.

He wears your shirts to the gym. You wear his shirts to bed. Your favorite jacket is his engineering department jacket he got as a freshman— all worn and soft. His favorite sweatpants are, somehow, your old high school sweats that were always a little too big on you.

After exams the two of you celebrate with a cheap bottle of wine and a bunch of grocery store cupcakes, falling asleep on the couch together afterward cuddled in each others arms. You could barely register his low murmur, something like, “I’m so proud of you,” and maybe even an “I love you,” if you try to sift through the hazy memories enough.

All you can think of now, in the light of the morning, still pressed against the crook of his neck, is how good he smells. How good this feels.

[tezzbot]

yakko overstimulation exhaustion irritation misery torment vs self soothing nonsense babbling sibling comfort<3

[dirtytransmasc]

concept, cause the dynamics at play would be super interesting:

when Tuk and Neytiri are sucked into the hold of the Seadragon, what if Spider, unwilling to watch another one of this baby siblings, nor his siblings mother (despite everything cause he's a good kid), die without doing anything, jumps in after them?

they're now stuck in a flooding ship, spider knows his way around to a decent extent, they're all tired, they're all scared, they're all hurting. they have to depend on each other for survival.

Neytiri has to not only trust Spider, but has to follow his lead, has to trust him to guide her around a demon ship, has to untrust not only her own life, but the life of her youngest child to this boy.

Maybe they're separated, they have to find one another (my personal favorite scenario is that Tuk and Spider are together and he has to try and find her/guide Neytiri to him)

Spider taking Neytiri and Tuk's arms so they aren't separated by stray currents and raging waters (a parallel to "Sully's stick together"). Spider talking them through the breath holds he learned as a kid in case his mask malfunctioned before bringing them through the depths of the submerged ship (parallel to Jake and Lo'ak)

anyway. I just can't stop thinking about it. think about it.

Neytiri is faced with the fact that Spider jumped in after her and Tuk. he came for them, he put himself in danger to save them, to save her daughter. even after what she did to him. even after she held a knife to him, after she cut him, after she intended to kill him even after Kiri was released. he still jumped to her aid, even if he could have stayed with Kiri above deck where he was safe, he could have just aided Tuk and left her behind, but he didn't.

and there's so many ways to play with it and the aftermath. like.

Spider dragging both Tuk and Neytiri up the surface, trying his best to keep the trio afloat (namely Neytiri who was much less adjusted to the water and is exhausted by the night they've had) as they hope and pray to be reunited with the rest of their family.

maybe the stress gets to them and Spider just starts apologizing. I should have fought them harder. I shouldn't have let Lo'ak and Neteyam try and leave with me, I would have been fine. I should have seen it coming, should have taken it myself. it should have been me. my baby brother shouldn't be dead.

maybe he becomes partly delirious as he too gives into exhaustion, the big brother in him being the only part of him left coherent, so he takes Tuk close, whispering prrnen tsmuke [baby sister] over and over into her braids, assuring himself that she's safe and unharmed. he keeps praying to the Great Mother for his siblings to return to him unharmed. maybe he keeps asking where they are, if they're safe as his awareness fades and his memory weakens. all of his siblings. asking if Neteyam is ok, only to remember he's gone the second the words leave his tongue.

Jake and Lo'ak finding them when they come up with Payakan, both worse for wear, exhausted, clinging to one another, the only thing keeping their heads above water being spiders life vest, Tuk cradled between them. what a sight.

Neytiri watching as Spider looks over each of his siblings, taking them close, holding onto them as if they will be ripped away from him. the realization that he would die before he let that happen again hitting her like a ton of bricks the second she sees the look in his eyes.

a peace being made between the two in the wake of this event. spider silently claiming the role of big brother (he always was, but he had to pretend he wasn't. with Neteyam gone, he can't pretend he's not anymore), Neytiri silently agreeing.

idk man. it would be interesting.

[gwumig]

i think boothill would rub his face on like everything to feel it. since he cant feel stuff with his metal parts, y’know?

[whoyacallinyellow]

Borrowed Time

Javier Escuella x F! reader

Spoilers: major RDR2 events chapters 1-6 Content: 18+, Javier angst, loyalty, dramatic, possessive, referenced/implied sex, canon typical events & violence, possible unintentional spelling mistakes, google translated Spanish Type: changed to second pov (wc - 2278) / pc: pinterest Prompt / inspiration credit: @/red-dead-do-over246

Summary: Javier has changed after his time in Guarma. With what’s left of the gang, his loyalty between you and Dutch becomes convoluted.

You gazed at Beaver Hollow’s entrance, which resided Javier, stiff as a board, shoulders squared and hips narrowed. Pacing every so often as he fiddled with his carbine. 

The sight alone made you cringe, pitying the feller who stumbled upon the camp while Javier was on shift. 

Drawing attention to your presence with steady steps, he turned towards you in a trance, eyes clouded over with deep thought. 

“Hello.” Javier greeted absentmindedly, rolling up the sleeves of tattered shirt. 

“You alright?” He wondered softly, as if he was nearly confused by your sudden presence. 

“Of course.” You replied, hoping the matched tenderness of your tone was convincing enough.

“I was jus’ wondering if we could talk? You still haven’t told me what happened in uh— Guarma.” You proposed hesitantly, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. Just thinking about the boys ending up there made your head spin. 

“Can it wait? I needa focus, things are complicated right now— ‘nd I’m sure Ms. Grimshaw needs you.” He replied, an automatic response he has given you more than once since his return. 

You sighed, gazing down at his recently shined cowboy boots. Javier held so much loyalty, you wondered if he had lost himself in the process. As if he broke out of his trance he shuffled around, rubbing a harsh calloused hand down his mouth and chin. 

“Okay— ok, sure, mi amor— come.” He rambled softly with a disoriented head shake. Javier trudged up to you and placed a gentle hand on your back, ushering you to a nearby log. 

After a brief moment of silence he sighed tiredly, if you did not know any better, you would think it was in relief. Waiting for you to break the ice, he wrapped an arm around you and welcomed you into his warm embrace. 

“I— I thought you were dead, Javier…” you trailed off, your face being a constant reminder of how much you worried and cared about the man. You felt his grip tighten in reassurance before speaking. 

“Dead? Oh— mi amor, you know I would never leave you.” He cooed, his silky voice nearly resembling the man he used to be. 

You abruptly leaned away from him, eyes glossy from the tears that welled up. His rough thumbs responded almost immediately with small shushing noises exiting under his breath. He began stroking your cheeks, preparing for the tears threatening to fall. 

“Please no tears.” He whispered, the sight of you broke his heart— he knew his love didn’t deserve this, but you had to trust him. 

“‘M scared, I dunno what’s goin’ on anymore.” Your voice shook, chest heaving as you desperately tried to blink away the tears. You had always tried to be strong for him, the last thing you wanted was for him to be distracted while on a job.  

“Don’t be, hermosa, there’s a rat in the gang, s’all. We're takin’ care of it.” Javier’s vague words left a lot of room for interpretation, causing you to shutter nervously. Poor Molly was all you think about, and how her love for Dutch killed her in the end.  

“I know you would never... mi novia, I know.” Javier reassured, catching onto your fearful thoughts.

“Now, what about that talk?” He changed the subject, planting a small kiss upon the crown of your head before leaning away. 

You paused with a deep breath, with everything that has happened since Black Water, you were not sure how the man would react anymore. Things have changed more than you expected since the two of you have joined the gang. 

“Well, I found a place, it’s a bit to the west—“ You began hesitantly. 

“A place? Why didn’t you say? That’s great, I’ll let Dutch know.” He cut off your timid words, grinning brightly, a rare smile you usually can’t force out of him if you tried. 

“Not for the gang.” You quickly added as Javier frowned in confusion, staring at you over his brow-line. 

“A small cabin with a garden, birds in the pines up yonder.” You describe in awe, in attempts to win him over. The both of you gazed off the small cliff side, trying to imagine the place despite the reality of the damp smog you currently resided in. 

“It ain’t Tahiti, but it’ll be quiet for us.” You continued, not noticing the concerned look plastered upon the man. 

Javier hummed gently in consideration, entertaining your thoughts as he conceptualized your vision of a quiet life as a farm man, just for a moment. 

“Don’t we already have that? I mean— besides the cabin.” Javier asked, suddenly sizing you up. His stare possessed a dreadful amount of tension and certainty— as if his question were a test. 

You met Javier's tranquil stare; a long hardened face, he was simply a husk of a man he once was. It felt like years ago when he would treat you so tenderly, like a prize he had won and held sacred, something he could only have. His gentle, yet timid hands that used to run along your figure in the night now seemed like a mere dream. 

No longer a bright eyed cowboy, but a dangerous outlaw, consumed in drunken power and delusion, his trigger happily gunning down any poor soul that dares to get in his way— or look at him the wrong way. 

This new reality broke everyone, Javier was no exception. Bandoliers decorated his vested torso, his wounds earned in Guarma still raw, paying it no mind to rest and heal. 

“You sure you’re alright?” His words broke through your clouded mind, you gazed back at his prying eyes in hesitation. 

“Leave with me. Let’s run away.” The words finally escaped you, your heart now pounding in your ears. The added tension was bound to break at any moment. 

The outlaw now lazily wore a cigarette on his lip, it sagging ever so slightly as he contemplated your words carefully. Javier seemed to always deliberately think about what you said; that is just the kind of man he is. But if he could properly rationalize his reaction was a shot in the dark. Before too long his dull eyes turned ablaze in blinded fury as if you spoke blasphemy. 

A sharp breath exited his nose, his broken fists clenched at his side as he prepared to speak, a powder keg waiting to blow. 

“My bones break for you, I’ve killed for you, fuck— amor, if I didn’t know any better I’d die for you.” Javier’s words cut through the air like knives, sharp but quiet. 

“—and now you’re asking to leave? Is my loyalty not good enough— have I not proven worthy to you?” He ranted, presenting a side you had not seen before. 

But you had no defense, Javier was the most loyal lover and companion you ever had. Time and time again he proved that, with no hesitation he would put himself in between any dangers you could face. A promise he made to himself that night, unable to bear the thought of losing you. Additional scars and wounds that would be nonexistent if he were not protecting an extension of himself. 

“Answer me!” He shouted, not caring if the gang— or what was left of it heard.

“Why can’t you trust me?” Javier’s voice suddenly lowered again in betrayal, like a horse who finally broke under the stress of Dutch van der Linde’s wrath. 

“Javier—“ You mumbled softly in shock, begging for some sort of reasoning from the outlaw. 

“I trust you, Javier, it’s—“

“Then what do you want from me?” He spat, arms gesturing out in frustration. 

“I want you, Javier.” 

“Me?!— I am yours! I’ve been yours since that night at the lake! Whether you know that or not, estúpida.”

That night you two had snuck away for a swim while the gang rested in Clemens Point. The lake looked like glass, reflecting off the starry night, only to be broken by your intimacy. Your eager fingertips ran over the cowboys scars and insecurities, gentle lips trailing down his olive skin, from his cheeks to his collarbone, covering every area not submerged. 

In midst of Javier’s vulnerabilities he couldn’t do anything but hold you dumbfoundedly, his trembling hands resting underneath your thighs which wrapped around his hips. The close contact made blood rush to his head, and among other places. 

He remained that way for the entire swim, afraid to make the wrong move and scare you off, despite your naked body quite literally holding onto his, an unmistakable gesture for the trust you held for him. 

Javier swore up and down there were twice as many stars in the sky that night, which only encouraged him to make that promise to you. It was also that night he knew you officially had to be his, despite Micah’s advances—

“If you trust me, you’d trust Dutch’s plan.” He offered calmly, resting a hand on his belt. 

“They’re picking us off one by one— Javi, we’re on borrowed time, you must see that.” 

Javier adjusted his neck handkerchief, gaze locked on the ground away from you and the camp dwellers. 

“Why don’t’cha go, Dutch needs me strong.” He murmured simply, unaware of the extent you would obey. 

Your hands ran along the crumbling log bark before raising to your feet, wishing the man could see things how he used too. Quiet foreign curses and phrases then fired off the outlaws tongue while you departed, you recognized some of the words being that of a female dog. As you spun on your heel, the entire gang silently watched the dispute unfold from camp. 

“Fine! Sit here and wait for Dutch to turn the water into wine!” 

“Oh fuck off, chica!”

And those were the last words he spoke to you, they painstakingly replayed in his mind for the rest of the day. No one dared to ask the short-tempered outlaw what happened— not even Micah. 

The following day Javier figured he’d offer an apology to you, and perhaps convince you to prolong the running away. Emerging into your shared tent that early morning revealed an empty cot, along with your ransacked belongings at a disarray. 

After asking around camp, no one seemed to know where you wandered off to, everyone had problems of their own— the girls spat curses at him after witnessing yesterday's event, they were the least likely to talk, especially after what happened to Molly. 

The guilt and worry ate him alive throughout the day, he spent it scouting around, fearing the worst— what kind of man was he if he couldn’t keep the only promise he made? 

Defeated, the outlaw rode back into camp, Dutch lecturing him about his prolonged absence, while Micah sat at the wooden table behind them. A shit eating grin plastered on his face. 

Javier’s suspicions grew as his temper shortened, afterall, Micah was the only one he didn’t ask. 

“See my girl today? Hope not, for your sake.” He asked casually, gesturing towards the man. Micah grinned at his obvious uneasiness, dragging his boots from the table. 

“I was gon’ follow ‘er, partner, honest, but she’d threaten to gun me down, of sorts.” He shrugged, stretching out his arms lazily. 

“Where is she?” Javier demanded with a shout, further approaching Micah. 

“Easy now.” He replied, reaching slowly into his inner vest pocket, then presented a folded piece of paper he had nabbed from the tent after you fled. 

With an aggressive snatch of the paper, Javier read your note, a western cattle town scribbled down with a simple “I’ll wait for you.” 

Written so beautifully, he ran his fingers over the letters, but was rudely interrupted by a certain condescending voice.  

“So— is she our rat, amigo?” 

Javier glared at the man over the paper he clutched, unable to speak. 

“Ah, well, I knew she was no good, shoulda just let me have—” 

“Shut up, Micah— Don’t speak of her.” He hissed after a contemplating pause, desperately trying to restrain himself from disposing his pent up anger on the shyster. 

“C’mon cowpoke… only jokin’, ya’know how women are.” 

“Sure. You weren’t this chipper the nights she’d lay with me, cabrón.” Javier growled, taking a step closer to him, cracked knuckles beginning to bleed from the strain— anything to get the bastard to shut up. 

Micah chuckled sourly, his teeth gritting as he rocked in his chair. 

“Whatever you say, Mr. Escuella.”

Javier spat at the bastard's feet before crumpling up the letter with a toss, he then watched the paper engulf in flames and eventually turn to ash. But his love for you remained. 

That same night Javier sat on the edge of the path, unbothered to stand for his shift, revolver placed in the dirt next to him. 

He dug his boot into the dirt, creating a little divot with his heel, which only made his injured leg burn and sting, the pain keeping his mind at bay. 

Restlessly propped up against the same log the pair sat yesterday, he sighed in despair, freeing his aching head from his bowler hat. 

The cigarette Javier desperately puffed on nearly burnt his bloody fingers, his cheek puffy and purple. For what it was worth the outlaw would have killed Micah with his fists alone if Charles wasn't around to pry him off. Flicking away his ash he ran his fingers over the bloody patch, his mind unable to stray away from you.��

Leaning back on the log, Javier gazed up into the nights sky— and there were twice as many stars as usual— he huffed shakily, thinking of your words out loud. 

“Borrowed time.”

~

[chipsncookies]

Agata made them wear that

[friskyeee]

I'm bored have some Kabru headcanons :3

That is a pansexual man if I've ever seen one, idk I can't imagine him as liking a single gender

We all know bro is like the best ever at reading people but I feel like when he knows someone really well (Rin, Mithrun, Laios. Etc) he stops giving a fuck /hj

Like he knows them better than they know themselves and it gets to a point where he knows everything there is to know and he stops needing to like actively try and learn/remember something about them

Sex as a manipulation tactic is 100% something he's done

I really can't imagine him as like a SUPER family oriented guy, like obvi he cares about hi family and friends but I feel like it wouldn't be the first thing on his mind 24/7

Post-canon hangs out with Mithrun every weekend

I think post-canon him and Mithrun would like have a queer-platonic relationship, they don't bother to try and define it but it's like too far past friendship and not quite romantic

Like that one friend who you would kill and die for, has probably seen your dick, and is way too comfortable bursting into your space whenever they want, but it's not romantic

As much as he tries to pretend he does I like to think he'd low-key HATE sitting around doing nothing, like he'd try to be all cool and mysterious sitting in a corner or smth but in his head he's repeating the beemovie script over and over

In a modern au he would be a surgeon, I cannot be convinced otherwise

Post-canon would like know WAY too much about random ass people in the country- probably has everybody's social security numbers written down somewhere

[bandsandwristbands]

This is your last warning, share the fic or else ☠️☠️🔪

(any fic you're comfortable enough to share sweetie 🥰)

so I've been angsting about how much is too much to drop as a snippet, like I'd be giving you a whole chapter from the middle of a long ass fic, or spoiling the end, or dropping a few highlights out of context??

so i guess I will drop the a scene my partner chose at random lol Light spoilers for Backyard Heathens (My religious Sunan slow burn gaalee that I have not posted or finished yet 🙃)

Gaara’s swamped in paperwork; drowning in preemptive piles of legislature that he wishes could wait until after the coming festivities. The council is stubborn in their grip to hold on to ‘tradition’ but getting funding for the yearly celebration before the rainy seasons was like pulling teeth. The old fogies can’t stand to see the general morale of Suna’s citizens rising every season. Namely, they don’t like to see the younger people having fun. They have a scarcity mindset despite growing technological advancements and stronger trade agreements. 

Suffice to say, they relented in the budget but Gaara is now being punished with the duty of reallocating remaining funds appropriately. He’s trying to remember if the irrigation system will need maintenance soon when Kankuro trudges dramatically into the Kazekage office without knocking. 

“What is it?” Gaara offers flatly.

“You’re such a grumpy bitch this week. You could at least pretend-” Gaara rolls his eyes to his brother in a sharp glare, “Fine, fine. I see you’re busy but I need to drag you out into the daylight for a bit. Fazluna needs you to meet her at the front to go over the security rotations for the festival.”

“The front office?” Gaara asks but he’s already tossing the irrigation logs onto his ‘in progress pile’ to be dealt with later.

Kankuro offers a sympathetic look and leans against the door frame expectantly, “Sorry, kid. Front of the village.”

Gaara gets up and mutters that he ought to check the irrigation himself anyways, but the way he sighs begrudgingly says enough about his displeasure. 

“Come onnnnnn, some sun is actually good for you, yknow? Besides, I thought you were excited about this year, it’s the big one for you!” Kankuro’s tone is teasing as they walk. 

Gaara can admit that sun feels good, but it’s higher humidity these days, the first streaks of clouds forming stringy in the bright sky, and Gaara does not  appreciate the sweat forming on his back and neck. His jacket clings uncomfortably, but he can’t remove it because a plain shirt is improper for a young kage like himself. 

“It’s not as if this one will be any different.“ Gaara finally grumbles once the towering entrance to Suna is within his sight. 

“Think you won’t get any suitors brave enough to approach you?” Kankuro teases.

Gaara huffs derisively, “Hopefully not. I’m not interested anyways.”

Kankuro gives him a sidelong glance like he knows something Gaara doesn’t. “Not anyone from here you mean.” He titters obviously, “You’re just grumpy ‘cause none of your friends can make it.” Before Gaara can respond, they're stopping next to Fazluna just outside the Sand stone walls. They immediately launch into a very dull and standard recounting of the shift changes for the festival and Gaara is getting irritated now. They clearly don’t need Gaara for this and Kankuro dragged him away from a full desk of work for nothing. And to add insult, he had to remind Gaara why his mood was so sour. 

Although Gaara is grateful to have so many friends, he is actually kind of upset that no one can make it over to Suna for this particular one. It’s a big deal for most in his culture, a coming of age sort of thing. The Squall is supposed to symbolize renewal. Death and nurturing the seeds of rebirth. It’s also a time of indulgence, a brief reprieve from the dry, barren heat, where water is plentiful and one is free to celebrate excess. And at Gaara’s current age, people are allowed to publicly court him. 

He dreads that part. He doesn’t want to be running away from groupies (Kankuros phrasing) or politically motivated dignitaries. He wants to be able to celebrate with people he actually likes. Most of his closer friends have learned to play guard dog at these functions so even just one would be a comfort. Gaara understands regardless. They’re all busy in their own villages with their own obligations and missions. Even in a time of peace, he finds everyone pulled in many directions. It hadn’t really bothered him until he got his response letter from Lee, confirming he wouldn’t be able to sneak over to Suna in time. He apologized profusely even though Gaara had omitted the importance of this year specifically. He tries to tell himself he doesn’t feel a bit sad and a bit emptier, he already knew after all, expected the answer but he offered the invitation anyways. Lee is a bad influence on him sometimes. Gaara struggles with expectations, and he stumbles with Lee the most. Maybe it’s best Lee can’t make it then. Gaara can focus on the practical aspects and-

“Hey,” Kankuro slaps Gaara’s shoulder with the back of his hand, interrupting Gaara’s internal spiral, “What’s that?” 

Gaara blinks and follows the direction of Kankuro’s lazy point to the open desert before them. He squints against the melting mirages on the horizon and barely makes out a cloud of sand. For a moment Gaara stiffens in alarm because whatever this is, it’s approaching fast. He wasn’t warned of anyone coming to the village today, maybe one of his teams wrapped up early?? 

Then, in a blink, a flash of green in the kicked up sand. Gaara’s eyes go so wide they burn a bit, in disbelief even as he focuses his chakra out to sense who it was. The ninja beside him had stopped talking and Gaara turns his confused stare to his brother. He smirks back at him and snatches the kage hat off of the younger’s head. 

“Is that-?” Gaara wheezes.

“Yeah, Go get him!” Kankuro says it like Gaara is stupid but he’s smiling and nods towards the growing dust devil and Gaara doesn’t even think about it. 

His feet break into a sprint against his will. His gourd is tossed to the side in a rush. He’s not nearly as fast as the approaching ninja and sand begins pushing at his feet like it can propel him a bit faster. His skin is buzzing, he’s so sweaty and his face just gets hotter as Rock Lee comes into focus clearer and clearer. 

Lee pushes himself to slow down as he approaches the walls of Suna, but his heart is dancing around his chest in nervous excitement and by the time he processes the redhead running right towards him he can’t withhold his shout of excitement. 

“Gaara-kun!” He exclaims loud enough he’s sure it carried well into the village. However, once he really looks at Gaara, hair shining brightly in the midday, pretty blue eyes wide and locked directly on Lee, he almost stumbles. Suddenly it is difficult to pull in a full breath as Gaara leaps up, propelled by sand on his heels. His head blots out the sun for a brief second, but Lee can see it in slow motion, knows he’ll never forget this instant. Backlit by sunrays like a halo, eyes almost glowing when they curve up at the corners and one dimple obvious as he beams. Gaara lands right in Lee’s outstretched arms, squinting like he can’t contain the grin on his face. Lee thinks he has never seen anything so beautiful. 

They collide heavily, Gaara gasping like he’s had the wind knocked out of him as Lee skids them both to a stop. He uses the momentum to spin Gaara in a quick circle as he trips over his feet. Sand comes up to steady their intertwined weight and Lee thinks he must be smiling so hard it looks like a grimace.

An elated laugh bubbles up and out and into sweaty red hair that sticks to his chin and mouth. Lee squashes Gaara against him just a bit tighter, not sure if it’s too hard. Gaara is huffing into his neck, trying to catch his breath after a rather impressive sprint from him! And Lee can’t help another happy spin before finally releasing him onto the ground. 

Gaara lands gracefully as always, light as a grain of sand atop the shifting desert. And it’s all they can do but stare at each other in disbelief and Lee feels speechless. He watches Gaara slowly relax into a much calmer demeanor, like he’s caught himself, but he’s still got a dusting of pink across his cheeks. The corners of his mouth quirk up like he can’t quite contain it. It is rare to see Gaara so excited. Lee thrills at being the cause.

“I apologize for dropping by so last minute…” Lee manages to say on a nervous exhale. He had really thought Gaara might be mad at the surprise but the young Kazekage just shakes his head at the apology. He eyes Lee like he still isn’t sure if he’s really there. 

“I thought you couldn’t make it?” Gaara finally says, no pleasantries, a straight shooter like always. His tone is light, though, almost airy, and it gives him away.

[juhihuji]

cringe self indulgent comic with Tokuchi cuz I seek comfort in fictional characters lol!?!? it's a bit old and I thought of censoring the text cuz it's so terrible but idk I kinda still like the art