#is that they fucking hate each other's guts and perpetually try to kill the other (before falling in love... and sometimes even after)

[maryasmorevna]

................. not to rain down on anyone's parade but barely characterized 14 year old lucerys could never have the swag eleanor or henry had

[superectojazzmage]

Among my mounting bad/unsure feelings about Arcane season two is a feeling of... I don't know, weirded outness over how Jinx is being handled. Just the way they seem to almost be trying to pretend like she wasn't depicted in season one as basically a sadistic, bloodthirsty, would-be school shooter who did shit like shooting animals for fun or blowing up buildings to try and impress her dad.

Like, the narrative of this season seems to be going out of it's way to handle her with kids gloves in a way that season one didn't, treating her as if she's just a "lol so quirky" kind of character or even a genuine revolutionary hero to be idolized as Zaun's leader compared to season one's "oh this lady is genuinely dangerously unstable and a threat to everyone around her". She's not treated as a villain - albeit a tragic one - she's treated like she's a flawed hero at worst.

Hell, I mean, you see it with the whole plot of Zaun following Jinx as a symbol of revolt. Because all throughout season one, Jinx's relationship with Zaun in even the most charitable light amounted to everyone except Silco being fucking TERRIFIED of her or outright hating her guts, and with good reason as she did nothing but make everyone's situations worse by being a mood-swinging killer who attacks anyone and anything around her at the slightest provocation and constantly goes into violent, hallucinatory fugue states at even the most mild of stresses. But than she blows up the council and suddenly everyone is literally equating her with a god worshiped in Zaun? Imagine if you saw people claiming the Unabomber was the Second Coming and you get an idea of how bizarre that is.

Everyone regarded Jinx as a walking bomb in season one. Even a lot of Silco's allies - from Sevika to Marcus - spent said first season saying Jinx was out-of-control and that killing her would be doing Silco a favor, and that was objectively true, especially considering Jinx ends up directly murdering Silco in yet another fit of blind rage and panic. Now we get season two and anyone who seriously opposes Jinx seems to be treated like either a jerk or a burgeoning extremist for not liking a terrorist who kills people because the voices in her head say to do it, and some people who despised Jinx in season like Sevika now act like they're just mildly annoyed by her childishness and weird behavior (something else that was played in a very creepy light in s1, but now seems treated like it's harmless).

Her crimes from season one and even this season are kinda brushed over; there's tepid acknowledgment that she killed Caitlyn's mom and two other councilors, but that's it and nobody really dwells on the fact that she basically did fantasy 9/11. And likewise, Caitlyn is treated as if she's becoming a violent zealot for shooting at Jinx while Isha is near, but nobody so much as comments on Jinx outright murdering numerous children through Grey-bombing Piltover or literally shooting a teenage Firelight in the back in season one just because she looked like Vi.

Speaking of Isha, I hate to say it, but she really does feel like she has no reason for existing beyond making Jinx look better. No themes of Jinx perpetuating the kind of abuse Silco inflicted on her by raising to be the monster she is, no acknowledgment of how dangerous somebody like Jinx would be as a mother, no questioning of the ethics of Jinx's actions, and Isha watching Jinx murder people is framed in a silly, comedic light compared to season one's blunt depiction of how Powder being exposed to violence from a young age warps her. Isha throws straight KILLS HERSELF via suicide bombing and it's framed as a heroic, beautiful act and not a horrific sight of a child being so radicalized by the terrorist that raised her that she thinks killing others and eve herself "for the cause" is good. The series dangles her and Jinx being friendly with each other in front of you like a parent jangling car keys at an infant. "Oooh look at Jinx and Isha dancing and dying their hair haha it's so cute don't think about bad things, Jinx is nice now!".

I just honestly am not a fan of this "Harley Quinnification" of Jinx after season one went out of it's way to tear down that kind of character. Such a big part of Jinx's portrayal there was ripping apart the idea of this manic pixie terrorist who is Totes Awesomes and only hurts bad guys as part of it's larger themes of the ugliness of violence and the dangers of valorizing it. And I really feel like we're losing that. Not even just with Jinx, but with Zaun as a whole, this season feels like it's going full "everything is Piltover's fault, Zaun didn't do nothing wrong, those Piltover babies should just shut up and let themselves be attacked for being big stupid oppressor doodoo heads!!!!" which feels very counterproductive to the series' messages and like frankly shit writing.

[travelling-on-the-octopath]

It also says somethung interesting that the Almyran army - including Shahid - call the people of Fodlan swine, brutes, savages, etc. in the battle you face them off in Claude’s route in the demo. Brute in particular is what Hilda says "everyone" calls Almyrans in her supports with Cyril, it's intriguing to see that that's a shared sentiment between the two lands 🤔

Shahid calling Khalid a horror and a wretch and being willing to kill who he thinks is a stranger just on the basis of LOOKING like Khalid though? Fuckin' yikes man, that uh, doesn't suggest a happy home life with the guy. Just one sibling like that sounds horrific, if any OTHER sibling holds similar hatred for Claude? It's no wonder he describes leaving Almyra as escaping it in his Marianne supports, despite how much he clearly loves it 😭

God. Fuck. I just. I was already agonizing over Dimitri's family wanting him killed and now we have a tangible nature to the fact that Claude's family has always wanted him dead and never has it hurt so much to think about my favourite FE3H lords 😭

The dynamic between Fódlan and Almyra was easily one of my favourite bits of the Golden Wildfire demo. As unserious as it was, watching Holst butcher Nader's title and Nader getting pissy over it, saying he does this every time fkdhdkssl like I definitely believe those were the guys who only needed a drink to get over their respective country's biases against the other's. But it's the sort of dynamic that I think exists between Faerghus and Sreng, which I think...is willfully ignored by some people: it's a mutually antagonistic relationship, which for all intents and purposes, was initiated by the non-Fódlani party and perpetuated to varying degrees by Fóldan. It's bad, obviously, but I see a lot of people lay every stitch of blame at Fódlan's feet because white people can never be the attacked party in anything....Strange. Very strange indeed. All that to say: I can't wait to hear more about how much these country's fucking hate each other's guts and I'm so excited to watch Claude achieve his dream 💕.

AS FOR SHAHID......gremlin, mean, did your mother not love you enough? I can't tell if hopping the border and risking a war is usually the way a prince(ss) tries to go for the crown, but, uh, I did not like that. Glad he got hid ass kicked. The way Claude threatened him at the end of the cutscene too fkdhsnsls kinda wanted to watch that arrow fly just for shits and giggles. Once I get over the sheer comedy of the fact that he couldn't recognize his loathesome little brother Khalid...it hurts all over again :/ like holy fuck, I don't think Claude gets enough credit for being so unendingly hopeful for a future where no one like him ever has to suffer just for existing. Treatment like that is enough to break most people but Claude really set his sights on Fódlan with the intention of undoing centuries of antagonism and only being forced to take no for an answer on 1/4 Three Houses routes, the other two of which guarantee him his dream, while the last is...left undetermined? Silver Snow why did you hate Claude.

Anyway. Can't wait for Shahid to recognize Khalid and proceed to get his ass KICKED for trying to bring violence to a Fódlan that's already rife with it, assuming Shahid is able to try again. Maybe we get more siblings 👀 MAYBE.......MAYBE WE GET THE KING AND QUEEN KF ALMYRA 👀?

[anothermcytblog]

do not ask why i made this but here is the entire transcript of “Wilbur talking about eating Sand for 14 minutes...” I wrote in two hours for no reason other then boredom.

Phil, farming sand in minecraft: -it is similar to how the 0 tick farms work where it pushes pistons underneath and on top. 

Wilbur, donating with Text To Speech: Phil have you ever eaten sand? 

Phil, laughing: No. I don't think I have. I might have when I was a kid I guess. Why Wilbur? Whas- wuah wuh wuh What is this? 

TTS Wilbur: Could eat the sand. 

Phil, silent for a second: 

Phil: I could the...

Phil: 

Phil: I could? 

TTS Wilbur: Might be faster. 

Phil, laughing again: Inhaled sand. Okay. Into my body, then what? I need to place it dude, what do you mean? I'm just gonna shit out bricks. I'm just gonna shit out- I'm just gonna shit out sandstone is that it? 

TTS Wilbur: Then you put sand somewhere better. 

Phil, wheezily chuckling: Wil I have- I have actually no idea where you are going with this. I'm legit just as confused as some people in chat. I don't- *laughing* 

TTS Wilbur: Well if the sand is somewhere better then it's not in your way anymore. 

Phil: You okay WIl? You alright mate? We were playing Civ for a long time last night. Are you okay mate? You’re not gonna start worrying me are you? We’re pretty close to each other. 

TTS Wilbur: Yeah I’m fine. If you eat the sand and move it then you won’t have to keep shoveling it. 

Phil, sighing like a disappointed dad: Brilliant. Chat I don’t know he’s gone off the- he’s gone off *gasp* Oh my fucking god dude he was so quiet. That is a threat they make no noise when they’re on lava. Jesus. I was like “What’s hit me!?” It was like a single hit that made me think it was a player or something cause it was silent. I was just like- there was no noise. Okay dually noted, magma cubes don’t make any noise on lava. 

TTS Wilbur: Magma cubes are boring Phil. Let’s talk about eating sand again. 

Phil, laughing: Wil have you- have you ate sand is this what you are talking about *hears a ghast* fucking hell. 

TTS Wilbur: Yes I have. 

Phil, softly: What is this conversation… *Normal tone* Was it nice? 

TTS Wilbur: It gets between your teeth and is fun to crunch in the car ride home. 

[ Phil, grossed out and letting out various forms of Nope and nooo in funny tones of voice ]

Phil: Ooohhh that was a horrible vision. That was a horrible visual. You had a strange childhood Wilbur I’m just gonna say it wasn’t my fault though. *Laughing* Did you just pocket sand and start going- *mimickings eating sand* 

TTS Wilbur: Then when I get home I put it in my mouse. I successfully move the sand. 

[ Phil sighs disappointedly ] 

Phil: Chat I don’t know what we’re going to do with Wil. 

TTS Wilbur: I would sometimes put it in my pockets too yes. 

Phil: I don’t know what we’re going to do with Wil he’s a lost cause chat. Genuinely worried for my dude. It’s not five head. 

TTS Wilbur: This wasn’t in my childhood, Phil. 

[ Phil is silent in disappointed dad™ for a solid like, seven seconds]

Phil: Wil when I come to visit you, uhhh, later this year we’re going to have talks about this. We’re going to have talks, son.

TTS Wilbur: Why? 

Phil: Stop eating sand son. *Laughing* It’s not good for you. 

TTS Wilbur: What’s in it that’s bad for me? 

Phil: It is literal rocks! *Sighing* Oohh I can’t. Chattt. Tell him pleaaase. 

TTS Wilbur: So is salt. 

Phil: Oooohhh I knew he was gonna pull some weird sh- I fucking knew- *chuckling* Not the same dude. *Laughing* Not edible. Please he does not have a point do not give him any sort of leeway here chat. 

TTS Wilbur: Please enlighten me on what makes salt edible and sand inedible. 

[ Phil is silent in disappointed dad™ part 2 electric boogalo]

A TTS Donation: Human biology college major here. I do not recommend eating sand. 

Phil, cackling: Ohh… god. 

TTS Wilbur: Why not? 

Phil: Wil does sand- does sand dissolve in water Wil? I don’t think it does, does it? 

TTS Wilbur: Any further questions? Or have I persuaded you? 

[ Phil Laughs ]

A different TTS Donation: Now I know why Wilbur’s humor is so dry. It’s from all the sand he’s been eating.

Phil, losing his mind laughing: Ohhhh- *cackles* Nice Trixtin.  

TTS Wilbur: So we’re relying that sand isn’t contaminated with dog piss or something. Sand physically can not harm you if you eat it. It’s fun to chew like chewing blades of grass in fields. A simple pastime. No nutritional value like salt. 

[ Phil is silent in disappointed dad™ part 3: Batman returns ]

Phil: A simp-

[ Notification that Niachu is raiding ]

Phil, laughing and losing his mind: I didn’t even get to finish my sentence I just said “A simp” and then Niachu shows up with a raid. Niachu get your man, he’s fucking being weird. Thank you so much for the raid. *Laughing*

A different TTS Donation: Chewing sand is basically inviting fiberglass into your system. 

Phil: Yes- uh Nikki, Wil is boasting about eating sand and saying that there is nothing wrong with it. 

TTS Wilbur: I invite fiberglass into my system. Formally. 

[ Phil is silent in disappointed dad™ part 4: This time it’s personal ]

Phil: He’s lost dude. Oh nooo *chuckles*  

TTS Wilbur: My teeth grow perpetually like a hamster. Akin to a hamster I must chew sand so the teeth don’t puncture my skull and kill me. 

Phil, laughing: WHAT?! Bro you’re on some fucking shit what the fuck am I hearing? 

TTS Wilbur: It’s quite similar to the taste of pretzels. 

Phil, sighing but trying not to laugh: You need to stop- You need to stop conca- *wheezing* You need to stop comparing sand to food. He has infinite text to speech chat. I’m giving- I’m applying- I’m giving him a platform of 5.8 thousand. Dude, dangerous information he is spreading. This is the thing right chat? This is not- This is not Wil on any sort of drug at all- this is Wils natural state. Sometimes he just does this. 

TTS Wilbur: Chat. Say 1 if you’re gonna go and try some sand now. Say 2 if you aren’t and also hate anyone who looks different to you. 

Phil: Ohh my god you did not just- just rig the vote dude. You just fucking rigged the vote. *Laughing* Wil, do you just want to get on a call and discuss this? 

Phil, presumably after calling Wilbur on discord: Explain yourself. 

Phil, after a moment of silence: Guys he’s silent I’m scared. *laughing*

TTS Wilbur: Oh fuck wait. 

[ Phil, losing his mind ]

Wilbur, now on call and verbally talking: No I’d like to know- I’d like to- I’d like to genuinely know what’s wrong with what I’m saying. 

Phil: What is wrong with eating sand? 

Wilbur: Yeah. 

Phil: Bro it’s sand.

Wilbur: Well actually I’m not saying chewing- I’m not actually swallowing the sand I’m pretty sure. Might be a couple you know? Might be doin’ a couple of swallows… but. 

[ Phil laughs but in the disappointed dad kind of way ] 

Wilbur: Like you know you chew plastic pen caps. Probably something wrong about that but no one gets angry at you for doing that. As long as the sand is clean I don’t see anything wrong with chewing on some sand. Maybe you’ll swallow some as well you know it’s not- it’s not my business. 

Phil: It’s gonna ffffuck up your teeth what do you mean? 

Wilbur: What do you mean fuck up- so is chewing pen lids. 

Phil: That is nothing compared to sand!

Wilbur: Have you ever had a pretzel, Phil? 

Phil, laughing: Shut the fuck up. Yes. 

Wilbur: Nonono listen, yeah so you know- have you ever bitten the salt off of the pretzel? Have you ever done that?

Phil: Not really no. 

Wilbur: Oh. Well you can do that. Would that fuck up your teeth do you think? 

Phil, a little confused: No I don’t think it woullld. Unless… 

Wilbur: No it’s quite the same consistency as sand.

Phil: Is it thoughhhh…? Is it though? It’s sodium. 

Wilbur: As someone who- As someone who eats sand I’d say it is quite consistent- 

Phil, laughing: Shut up! Stop saying sand is okay to eat please. 

Wilbur: It’s fine to eat- literally I’ll google it. I’ve never had to google it because it’s just so intrinzic in my knowledge that is is okay to eat. 

[ Phil is silent in disappointed dad™ part 5: who raised this man? ]

Wilbur: Goodness! I didn’t realize this was an actual question. I’m obviously just so shocked that one would wonder because it’s so obviously is okay. “So I am curious, under what category does a sand cuisine fall under and why does the fascination-” This person is just being rude, I’m going to skip them. 

Phil, wheezing a little and lightly mocking Wilbur: “I’m going to skip people who don’t agree with me.” 

Wilbur: Uh this person- nonono I’m going to read out this person- This person says “At least not in a good way. It contains quartz which is harmful for your tooth enamel and over time it may harm your teeth although I know of many food recipes which consain- contain sand. There is not much problem for your gut unless you eat to much of it of course.” So basically it’s the quartz that is bad for your tooth enamel but the problem is I don’t have tooth enamel. I- I gave it up for Lentso I’m perfectly fine. 

Phil: What are you talking about? What are- *Laughing* What are you-? Wait hold up go back a sec. 

Wilbur: Yeah? I mean I don’t- I don’t know what recipes include sand but I’d love to try some. 

Phil: Go back to what you just said before. 

Wilbur: What, I gave it up for lent? Why are you laughing? 

Phil, mumbling a little: I don’t… 

Wilbur: Okay around the time of easter uhhh Christan people are supposed to give up something that means a lot to them that’s called lent.

Phil: And you gave up your enamel?  

Wilbur: Well it means a lot to me.

Phil: You can’t give up your enamel. 

Wilbur:  Wilbur: Wh- Well what have I been doing? 

Phil, laughing a little: I don’t know what you’ve been doing. That’s like saying “I gave up my bones for lent.” 

Wilbur: I think- I think we’re going off track here. The point is sand is perfectly fine to eat and that- that the quartz in it that damages your teeth I’m sure- I’m sure you guys can do fine without it. 

Phil: I think we’re going to have to agree to disagree here. I- 

Wilbur: That’s fine I’m not- I’m not saying you should enjoy eating it I’m just you should be happy with me eating it- I mean there is a lot of prejudice in this chat. 

Phil: O-ohh… I should respect your choices to eat sand and damage your teeth?  

Wilbur: Yeah. I know you’re saying that sarcastically but you really should. You should think about this one- you knowing chewing hay? Like- Like a blade of grass if you’re walking? You must have done it, hanging out the right hand side of your mouth. Maybe have a bajo with you as well. 

Phil, laughing: I think- I agree with Trixtion, “Being happy with- for you is a bit much. The most you can expect is tolerance.” 

Wilbur: That’s fine. Do you tolerate me eating sand Phil? 

Phil: Where are you getting sand from to begin with now that I think about it. You live- you live in Londen there’s just- fucking tems dude. 

Wilbur: Any convenient store, construction sites-

Phil: Ooooookay. 

Wilbur: Hour glasses-

Phil: OOOOhhh okay. 

Wilbur: Fish tanks- 

Phil, laughing: Nooooo- stop what you are doing right now. 

Wilbur: Crematoriums-

Phil: Bruhhhhhhh- *Cackling* This conversation is over. 

Wilbur: Okay, bye bye phil. 

Phil, wheezing: You know sometimes I don’t know what I expect from Wil when he’s in one of these moods- uhhh- I was not expecting that though. 

TTS Wilbur: Phil call me back. I have something important to tell you.

Phil, now on call again with Wilbur: Hey mate. 

Wilbur: So um, uh, on my minecraft did you know that concrete is made out of sand- and glass, a lot of glass is made out of sand. There is only certain kind of sand you can use for making concrete and glass right? And the thing is we’re actually uh, having a little bit of shortatage in the sand you can use to make concrete and glass so uh, due to that you can’t just use it just from like, like the desert you have to take it from like, the beach. Um, so what- there is a sand mafia that exists. 

Phil, losing his mind: Shuttt- I hung up on him- I fucking hung up on him. 

TTS Wilbur: Phil I wasn’t finished I think you hung up my accident. 

TTS Wilbur: Phil I’m going to need you to call me back. Phil, on call again with Wilbur: So there’s an actual sand mafia, you fucking-

Wilbur: Yeah yeah it’s apart of a resource depletion uh, sand is having an extreme amount of resource depletion compared to a lot of things in the world, there is a serious lack of sand- let me send you some sources of what I’m talking about here. This is national geographic and this is uh-

Phil, after a cut: I thought you were fucking with me. 

Wilbur: I am not fucking with you Phil. 

Phil, laughing: What the fuck is this? 

Wilbur: So basically the reason we need to mine so much sand is that we need to extract certain elements like titanium and zirconium. Their mineral, uh, is usually found in sand deposits due to pressure and, um, erosion. So it’s really important that you can uh- that that amount is kept under control and there is a lot of money in the sand business and where there is a lot of money there is- theres a short amount of supply, you know, you find organized crime and that’s why we have the sand mafia. I’m not going to say my eating of sand is contributing to the resource depletion because that would be uh- that would be- what’s the word… irresponsible of me but-

Phil: Mhm? 

Wilbur: I’m just saying if you wanna get into trying sand, it’s sooner rather than later. 

[ Phil cackles]

Wilbur: You think- I’m really not- I haven’t spoken a single lie this entire stream. I’ve just been talking the truth and everyone has been getting angry at me. I feel like- I feel like Jesus Christ right now Phil. 

Phil, laughing: Ohhhh-Kay alright. 

Wilbur, now sounding like he’s trying not to smile: I’ve been preaching nothing but the good word

Phil, still dying: Shut- 

Wilbur, very close to smiling: And you’re trying to crucify me. Phil: Shut- Shhhhhhhhhhhhshh. 

Wilbur, almost laughing: You’re tryna hang me on a cross, Phil. Just like the romans, dude. 

Phil: Was this the payoff? Was this the fucking- *Wheeze*

Wilbur, now back to a more calm tone: You’re tryna crucify me. You’re tryna kill Sand Jesus. 

Phil: Okay- 

Wilbur: It’s not a joke. 

Phil, laughing: I can literally hear the smile in your voice. 

Wilbur: I’m not smiling, I’ll turn on my webcam for you Phil. 

Phil, looking at Wilbur off screen: Jesus that’s horrifying. What is this- what is this angle? Oh I saw- *Laughing.*

[ Wilbur starts laughing as well ]

[ Both of them lose it ]

Phil: Oh my god I tipped over my water. I saw it- Okay okay- I’m gonna hang up. He cracked chat he cracked. Ohh fuck. *Wheezing*

[summoner-kentauris]

What does your interpretation of Zacharias think about Líf and Thrasir? (You can either just answer or write a lil story if you feel like it)

OOOO now i have thought in my free time a fair amount about what líf thinks of zasha but, and i cannot believe this, i have not thought about what zacharias thinks about líf and thrasir. full disclosure, book III happened to be going on when i formally stopped playing feh. i kept up with the story after that but, theres my obligatory knowledge base disclaimer.

also minor cws through this whole thing because i talk here and there about zacharias and his... mm, canonical relationship to death/selfharm

-

so, i spent a lot of time thinking about this one, and i keep coming back to my gut reaction, which is that i don't think zacharias would like them very much. i dont know why i think that, though.

PART ONE

i think a lot of it would depend on how they approach him, which is maybe why i've spent more time thinking about the reverse of this ask, come to think of it. see, i think zacharias could go any which way in terms of what he thinks of them. i think he could hate them, as two people who killed versions of everyone he ever loved, including metaphorically killing off the two people closest to him.

i think he could love him, having seen the hell (ha ha literally) that they went through. understanding what that feels like. given the way he talks about his suicide attempts, and honestly that he spent most of book I trying to get people to kill him, really his whole relationship to death. i mean the man talks a lot about death and killing. he might not be the feh OC who best understands how manipulative and... whats a good word. alluring? what im trying to say is that besides eir, he might be the one most likely to understand why Hel and hel's offer appealed to líf and thrasir. i feel like this bit has a place here: "With his dying breath...he begged for his life. He called out your names! "I'll do anything you ask! Just let me live!" excepting of course that i still am not sure if i think he said/thought that or not. ive never been sure who really is in control of speaking right then and there. Anyway. Probably he could come to understand Líf and Thrasir's stance, enough that he could care about them the same ways he cares about his versions of Alfonse ann Veronica

on the other hand, i can see him being fully horrified by the choices those two made in response. this bit: Not anyone... This dark god...seeks death. And it cries for the destruction of Askr. Like. Líf and Thrasir are intentionally enacting the same thing as the dark god's desires, in order to correct a mistake they made that, uh, also enacted the same thing as dark god's desires. talk about awkward. and i think Zasha, who has lived with this nightmare in his head for so long, might recoil from people who are so directly aligned with it. who wants to be around someone who has become, who has chosen to become, everything you ever feared you'd be? especially when you're nearly drowning from the effort of fighting to stop yourself.

i could also see him meeting them and it being incredibly, incredibly bad for him. i feel like, he puts a whole lot of... mm. what am i trying to say.here:

Yet it is you that says this, dear friend, and so I must consider it. I see the faith reflected in your eyes. Perhaps it is possible...

SPEAKING OF BUNNY ZACHARIAS I ALSO THINK YOU COULD TAKE THE FOLLOWING:

You never change. All you see is a lofty goal, even if you lack the means to achieve it... The idea that gods would fall by the hand of man is a fantasy... and a preposterous one. This is a goal that even our ancestors Líf and Thrasir could not achieve.

setting aside the obligatory wtf zash i know you know your lore (fuck, maybe there is no killing the gods, maybe all Fire Emblem victories are temporary at best and Zenith is the only one who knows it. but i think, probably not), i think you could spin a very believable scenario where zacharias takes one look at these two ambitious, arrogant posers and absolutely refuses to speak to them any further.

so, part one, i think that zacharias could think any number of things about líf and thrasir. which i suppose means that i think he's fairly neutral on the subject of líf and thrasir. makes sense to me, i suppose. i feel like zacharias | bruno has practice (regardless of whether he's any good at it or not, or whether its any good for him) at holding and maintaining separate personas, so I don't think the fact that líf and thrasir were alfonse and veronica would necessarily be all that important to him.

which brings me to part ii

what happened to dead zenith zacharias

if zacharias is neutral on the subject, I think a lot of their relationship is going to pushed in one direction or another by líf and thrasir themselves.

and, complicating matters (when do I make things simple?), i think their approach to zacharias would of course depend on what happened to their zacharias. correct me if im wrong, but i dont think we have even a hint what happened to him.

there are three ish options I'm seeing. one: as dead world zenith is further along in its timeline and as zacharias claims he's almost out of time with his curse, other zacharias died due to that before the war with hel. i feel like scenario one is the most likely to lead to a good relationship between main zacharias and líf and thrasir.

two: mr. professional "knows plot relevant things out of knowhere" was the one who found out about angrboða's heart in the first place. especially given "As destruction took hold, we joined with Embla to seek the forbidden heart...", which to me sounds a lot like, "hel was kicking our ass then zacharias showed up and said we should go get this mystical plot object from embla". thrasir even says she and líf weren't allies before the world went to shit. anyway. hear me out here:

Yes. The heart is sealed within an Emblian blood temple. If that seal is broken, someone will die each time the heart beats... Those who perform the rite are the first to die.

Now. Líf claims he was the one who broke it open, but he also was present for the war that followed and only after was he killed and inducted into hel's army. so. both of those things can't be true. i propose that the magic mcguffin located in a sealed emblian blood temple was unlocked by our dear zacharias and thats what killed him in other zenith. i think its possible that other veronica was the one who did it, but you know. its all imagination at this point. also, and i forgot this, but thrasir does go off about how she can't lose until she saves her brother, so. something especially tragic happened at least. and oh boy is scenario two a nice fresh tasty tragedy. so that's scenario two. other zacharias directly died as a result of attempts to fight hel

number three thing that could have happened to zach is boring. he's always off doing things, he could have just died off screen. i mean. everyone did, eventually.

frankly he could still be alive for all i know. the heart appears to take the lives of people in the world, not of the world, or else the summoner would have been fine. so, if zacharias was on one of his off world jaunts, he could conceivably be a-okay. well. as okay as someone who's whole world died. i don't think that's what happened, because thrasir is pretty clear about feeling that she failed him, but yknow.

líf and thrasir's reactions to the above

thrasir is i think the most straightforward. i can't really see her approaching main zacharias with anything but positive intent. even if she's only a little bit open, i think thrasir and zacharias will probably have a decently tolerable relationship. if zacharias can come back to a country that exiled him as a kid and let his mother die in a dungeon and then go on to not just befriend but protect and care for a half sister he didnt know before then, then i think he'll find a way to care about thrasir. you know, intsys could have had fun making another perpetual older brother character. as i understand it, xander gets brother'd a lot, he and zach could have talked. could have been fun. a whole, zacharias, a historically traumatized child: *arrives in a world* every currently traumatized kid in a five mile radius: oh shit this one's ours now. you know what im saying? found family except zacharias would very much like it to stop finding him. he's got important brooding to do. but anway, they didn't go that route and its a tragedy.

líf is... more complicated. i think scenario one creates the most positive outlook. i can see him still having guilt over zacharias' loss, but i think any of it would be overshadowed by everything else that happened. in this scenario, líf finally gets back a piece of the world he'd lost. yeah, it's not his zacharias, but still. it is a zacharias, who is living and breathing and frowning and asking why you are staring at me, knight. i think the two of them could get along rather well, although i see them having significant issues with pessimism. inch-restingly enough... the dark curse bades its hosts to kill askrans. and líf is, well. dead. so... perhaps... perhaps líf wouldn't trigger the curse like alfonse does. in that case, not only does líf get someone back he thought he'd never see again, but so does zacharias.

scenario two is just a nightmare. frankly, i initially thought this scenario would lead to líf just ignoring zacharias (out of guilt, pain, etc), but i was rereading the scripts looking for the spelling of angrboða and this came up:

Tell Hel. She'll erase those memories. She'll erase them all...

so, honestly? i think that in scenario two líf just straight up gets hel to remove his memories of zacharias (as an aside maybe this is also why he never ever ever talks about other anna >:{ )

in that case, líf wouldn't really have any reason to talk to this man, who causes this empty deeply sad feeling to well up in him for now discernible reason. and zacharias has no reason (or time) to talk to this standoffish general of the dead. so. that's a real ships in the night moment.

number three i think líf would still hold the same guilt as in number two, but i don't think it would be as horrifically tragic, so i think it's more likely he'd be willing to approach zacharias. he does appear to have even worse of a thing than alfonse about not opening oneself up to people, but i think that even if he's líf, he once was an alfonse, and being that this is me answering this, i don't think any alfonse can really keep away from a zacharias for very long. its a version of the person who once knew him as well as any other person in the world. like líf can't really seem to stop himself from associating with main sharena, i don't think he could stop himself from reaching out in his own way to main zacharias. and god does that man need some more friends. i think zacharias would probably be a little frightened of líf, and of what an alfonse could become. but i think probably... i feel like a lot of book i issues stem from the fact that, justified or not, zacharias thinks alfonse would risk anything, any harm to save him. i don't know that confronting an alfonse who literally risked everything and did all harm to save his world would be a comfort, but i do think zacharias would get a lot out of having someone who's already done the worst they can do. been there, done that, got the tshirt. i think zacharias would be a little afraid of what an alfonse could become, but i think he would no longer have to be afraid of... no, anxious about it. i think there's a kind of calm in having something confirmed that zacharias could appreciate. healthy? unhealthy? fuck if i know. i also think that in líf, zacharias has a friend who he can't physically hurt anymore. lífs already dead. been there done there got the.... glowing gel torso. i think, curse nonewithstanding, zacharias will always have some degree of tension and fear about hurting people he's in a relationship with, be that because of his issues with abandonment, of abandoning, of harm, etc. but you know. líf's kind of a rock. and he's already hit his rock bottom, now that i'm thinking about rocks. i think that kind of steady, placid deathness could really help zacharias. and i think he would find it soothing, whether or not he knew why.

plus he will be able to know that if the curse gets him, if he dies... he'll still have a friend in the realm of the dead. he doesnt have to be so afraid of leaving and getting left

so there we go! lots of musings. i have been thinkin about why my headcanons are less that and more elaborate branching theories, and i think it is because i would change my opinion depending on which story i wanted to tell or hear or see.so yeah. dunno which one of these answers belongs to the question, what does your interpretation of Zacharias think about Líf and Thrasir?, but hopefully at least one of them is interesting to read about!

OH also. i think he would be petty-ly annoyed about them cribing líf and thrasir's name. like full on scholar petty. probably showed up to the order in a nerdy huff excited to meet the actual factual líf and thrasir and turns out its just those two, sitting around glowing and reciting death metal lyrics like they're spoken word ballads. dont think he'd get over that ever.

[sanjisock]

this, at least

ao3

1.

The most annoying thing about this whole falling in love thing, Zoro decides, is the fact that he doesn’t even have a say in it.

One day he catches Sanji’s eyes across the table during dinner and it’s a multitude of things at once: like the clearing of fog at dawn, a flood, a thunderclap. Something ended. Something started. Zoro’s breath catches in his throat, a hitch, thick and unyielding; and then Sanji looks away, and Zoro still can’t fucking breathe.

He tries to backtrack, mentally — tries to put the knowledge away, tuck it at the back of his mind, but he can’t stop staring at the Cook’s dumb face and the dumb cigarette in between his teeth and the dumb three-piece suit he keeps wearing, and Zoro knows there’s no turning back from this one. Like a cut from a sword, swift and final.

He’s in love. And it’s as terrible as everyone makes it to be.

+

 It’s stupid.

He finds himself watching Sanji, following his movements around the ship — the way he likes to smoke in the morning with his back against the railings, the rising sun in his hair, washing it golden; the way he darts around the ship to help everyone with their own tasks, helping Usopp with the laundry and Franky with the reparations and Chopper and Nami and everyone, constantly, without fail, never resting; the way he goes through packs of cigarettes every day and yet still smells like the salt of some distant sea.

They arrive on a nameless port and part ways but Zoro watches him still; the way Sanji’s eyes light up at the sight of spices Zoro can’t even differentiate; the way he would pretend to drop some of his groceries around starving homeless men, head turned away as if he couldn’t see the men picking the food up in gratitude; the way he’d watch mothers hand-in-hand with their children with a certain kind of longing, and he’d smile then, a little curled up around the edges smile that makes Zoro’s heart trip inside his chest.

It’s becoming a problem, Zoro realizes, when he starts doing it in the battlefield. 

He knows Sanji can take care of himself, knows first hand what it’s like to face those deathly kicks. And yet Zoro’s throat closes up when he sees one of the marines pointing his gun at Sanji; he freezes, in the middle of all the limbs and gunshots and swung blades, and he has half the mind to turn and catch up to the Cook —

The marine pulls the trigger and Sanji avoids the shot easily. Of course he does. Zoro may have been ahead on the brute force department but Sanji has always been quicker, and bullets have ceased to be a problem for them even long before they learned to use haki. It’s not like Zoro can afford getting too distracted against the opponents he’s up against, either.

So it’s stupid, really.

Sanji smiles, toothy grin stretched across his face and Zoro feels something unfurl within his ribcage. Like sunrise, warming all over.

It’s stupid.

And Zoro is stupidly in love.

 +

 He finds Usopp at his workshop, tinkering on a long rod that looks a lot like Nami’s weapon. He drags one of the benches and sits across the work table, placing his swords at the corner of the table.

“I think,” he begins, because there’s no other way to segue into this. “I want to be with the Cook.”

Usopp’s hand slips and twists his wrench a little too hard at that, and the rod makes a loud bang noise as Usopp snaps his head at Zoro. “What?”

Zoro doesn’t say anything.

“I think I might’ve misheard,” Usopp babbles, dropping the wrench and the rod on the table unceremoniously. “You know, with all the noise and the tools and the, uh, the waves — you were saying something about, who was it again, Sanji?”

“I want to be with the Cook,” Zoro repeats.

“Oh,” Usopp says, twirling his fingers in a nervous gesture. “You’re saying you, uh —” he pauses and wrings his hands, clearly trying to pick his words, before settling with, “you like Sanji.”

Like. Right. As if it were that simple. “No, I’m in love with the Cook,” Zoro says.

“Holy shit,” Usopp blurts, before immediately covering his mouth with his hands. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean it like that,” he says through the hands, “I mean, that’s wonderful, Zoro.”

“No, actually, it sucks.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The room goes quiet again. Zoro is beginning to think that he’s making a mistake.

Zoro contemplates leaving the room and pretends none of this ever happened, but then Usopp huffs, a soft chuckle slipping through his lips. “No, yeah, you’re right, I’m sorry,” he says in between chuckles, “falling in love sucks, doesn’t it?”

It brought a smile to Zoro's face — the kind that hurts all the way down to his chest. He shrugs.

“So what are you gonna do?” Usopp asks, propping his head on his hands as he leans forward, curious. “Are you planning to tell him?”

“Have you ever told her?” Zoro fires back. “That girl back in your hometown — Kaya, wasn’t it? Did she ever know?”

“God, no,” Usopp immediately says with a shake of his head. “But I was never a brave man, Zoro, I’m kind of — working on that.”

Working on that. Zoro likes the way that sounds. As if there’s a direction he’s actually heading towards, a goal he has to meet. As if he doesn’t perpetually feel like wading through quicksand, heady and breathless and sinking .

“Right. Me too,” he agrees.

Usopp smiles at him, almost wistfully. “You need some help on that?”

He wonders about that too. He has never been the sharing type, especially when it comes to the matter of the heart, but then again, this isn’t exactly something he’s ever had much experience with. “No,” he decides. “I just, I don’t know. I think I just needed someone to know.”

“Okay,” Usopp says, and picks up his wrench again. They stay like that, silent except for the sound of clashing metals from Usopp’s tools, until Sanji calls them up for dinner.

 2.

 Zoro likes to think of himself as a brave man. Not in the way most low-time pirates would brag to strangers in a corner of a shady bar, but in that quiet acceptance of his, a part of himself he has understood for a long time, the way he faces dangers and towering monsters and knows: he is not afraid.

But sometimes he thinks of Sanji’s face twisting, sneering, of Sanji turning away, avoiding him, hating him — not the petty fights or throwaway arguments but truly hating him — and he thinks, no, he is not a brave man.

Sanji is sitting across the table at the bar, humming to himself as he downs his second glass of alcohol. He’d soon start babbling about pretty women and complicated dishes, the lightweight that he is, but right now, buzzed by the alcohol but not quite drunk, bathed by the dim lighting of the room, the Cook looks almost ethereal.

If Zoro were braver, he would touch those wet lips. If he were braver, he would run the tips of his fingers down the side of Sanji’s face, rest his palms on Sanji’s cheeks, and maybe — just maybe, if he were braver — press their lips together.

I love you, he would say, if he were braver.

“You’re such a dumbass,” he blurts instead.

“What the hell, Marimo — I hate you too,” Sanji says, almost on instinct. It’s a throwaway comment, doesn’t mean anything, but it still hits where it hurts, right in the very center of his chest. The sky is pitch black and the wooden floor is creaking under his feet; the cold night wind feels like it blows right through him, like there’s a massive hole in his abdomen, and Zoro drinks.

His throat burns, all the way down to his stomach. Like fire. Like coal.

(Like heartbreak.)

 +

 They fight.

They always fight, like clockwork. Sometimes it’s good-natured, almost performative, blades and limbs swung like a dance only the two of them share; but other times �� this time, Zoro can’t help thinking — it’s vicious and real, because they get under each other’s skin at the drop of a hat, and there’s a murderous glint on Sanji’s eyes that’s rarely there. Not entirely hateful, never crossing a certain line — they’re nakama, after all — but not entirely unreal either.

“I’m going to kill you,” Sanji growls, and Zoro thinks, you will . Zoro didn’t set himself up for love, but it’s the kind of things you only realize until you’ve stumbled into when it has happened: Zoro has somehow extracted his heart, worn it on his sleeves, laid it out there for everyone to see, and it is now beating, painfully, like it knows that it is fully in Sanji’s mercy; that Sanji can wrap his hands around it, fingers curving around the veins, and presses just so —

“As if you can,” he snaps, but he knows Sanji can; ten times over, hundred times over.

 +

 Nami finds him where he always goes, when they’re docked at an island — a corner of a dingy bar, strangers sitting two tables away as they steal wary glances at the man with one eye and three swords.

“This is pathetic, even for you,” Nami says as she takes the stool beside him.

“Shut up,” he says around a mouthful of tankard, downing the alcohol inside. He definitely needs it, now that Nami is here. “Shut up.”

“Eloquent, as always,” she says sarcastically, and orders her own tankard. She finishes it in one go, faster than he did, before adding, “you know you can’t keep doing this, right?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, feigning nonchalance, even when Nami is clearly not buying a single thing he’s selling.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re pulling this shit with me — you know what I’m talking about. This whole — ” she makes a gesture with her hand, “thing you have with Sanji-kun.”

“I don’t have a thing with the Cook,” he retorts, instinctively balking at the word. Thing. As if it was ever that simple. As if this bone-crushing weight around his heart could be summed up into a word as short and scant as that: thing. “He hates my guts and annoys the hell out of me. Simple as that.”

“You love him,” Nami says, bluntly. “And it’s hurting you.”

“It’s my problem,” he retorts, doesn’t even bother to deny it. Not to Nami. “I’ll take care of it myself.”

“Because you’re clearly doing such a good job by yourself,” she huffs. “Sulking at some nasty bar, drinking away your savings —”

“Like you’re one to say,” he fires back, “did you ever say anything to Vivi, in the end? You had all the time in the world, when we sailed together; and yet you didn’t say a single word.” He slams his tankard against the table, watches the alcohol spill over the rim. “Takes a coward to know another.”

He sees her face crumple at the mention of Vivi, and immediately feels bad. She looks away, her jaw constricting, throat bobbing, and for a second Zoro thought she would cry.

“Did it ever cross your mind,” she says after a moment, “that maybe I just don’t want you to make the same mistake that I did?”

He thinks of all the times he caught her alone, staring at the distant sea, her mind elsewhere, among the eternal sand. She looked a lot like porcelain, fragile and breakable; she looked unlike anything he had ever seen her be.

“That mistake — you can still fix it,” he blurts out, desperate to atone. “You still write to her sometimes, don’t you? It’s not too late. You can tell her, through those letters —”

“And what good would that do to us, Zoro?” She rests her chin on her hand, eyes cast downwards. “She’s miles away with a nation to lead, and we’re just...we may not even come back from this, you know? I couldn’t put that on her. Not when she has so much to live for. But you,” she suddenly looks up, gaze boring into his eye, “you and Sanji-kun are still here. It’s not too late for you two.”

It’s not the same, Zoro wants to argue, not when Vivi is clearly enamored with Nami as much as she does with her, while Sanji is a man who loves everyone but Zoro. Sanji has so much love to give, spilling over the edges of that bleeding heart of his, but not for Zoro; Sanji tolerates him, on a good day, and Zoro scowls at the thought of bad days.

But he thinks of Sanji, after a good fight, broken bones and open wounds and Sanji would lean slightly against Zoro in that way of his, the kind he does whenever he doesn’t want to admit that he needs help. Their shoulders would press against each other, hands brushing, and what comes out is, “All right, I’ll try.”

Nami blinks, looking as surprised as he feels.

“I’m not doing this for you,” he quickly says before she gets the wrong idea. “Just make sure you throw out a rope after he kicks me overboard.” 

She smiles, in a broken kind of way, and Zoro wonders if this whole love thing is ever worth it.

 3.

 They always fight.

But sometimes, they don’t.

Shared amused glances when Usopp and Luffy pull off some lively antics; backs pressed against each other’s as the enemies close in on them. Quiet moments in the crow’s nest when the rest of the crew has gone to sleep, cold nights and warm alcohol, insecurities laid bare in ways they couldn’t do with other people in the crew, who have different roles and different burdens to carry.

Zoro would help Sanji with the dishes after dinner — standing shoulder-to-shoulder, dirty plates and soap-soaked hands, elbows navigating around each other with ease born from familiarity. They would talk about their day, then, their usual animosity forgotten, soft words and softer laughter.

They get involved in a skirmish with the local bandits who stole a bunch of pears from the market and Sanji kicks a guy hard in the stomach, launching him towards the bandit Zoro has been fighting. Both bandits scream and barrel towards each other before falling unceremoniously on the ground.

“You could say,” Sanji quips as he moves on to fight another guy, “they make quite a pear.”

It’s not a good joke. It’s fucking dumb, in fact, but Zoro laughs, laughs like he’s never laughed before, like it’s the funniest thing on Earth. He thinks he must’ve sounded stupid, but Sanji huffs at him, eyes crinkling, lips tilted up in amusement, and Zoro suddenly thinks he’s not so stupid after all.

Sanji is clearly in a good mood. He makes a gesture with his hand, hand curved around an invisible glass, and tips it towards his mouth. “You wanna grab something afterwards?”

Two men writhe under the sole of his shoes, bloodied and battered. Sanji takes a drag out of his cigarette, unperturbed, his suits still neatly buttoned up to his neck. He looks feral and unkempt and put together at the same time, and he is everything Zoro has ever wanted.

“Sure,” Zoro says, and he thinks, I love you. I love you. I love you.

 +

 “Do you ever wonder?” Zoro asks as he drags the Cook out of the tavern, and Sanji snores, completely drunk, half of his body slung over Zoro’s shoulders. His face is beet red and smushed against the back of Zoro’s shoulder blade, and there’s something about the contact that sparks up something underneath Zoro’s skin that fizzes and trembles. “You know I hate this kind of shit — thinking about what ifs and all — but fuck, Cook. Sometimes — sometimes we’re good and you’re awful but you’re also the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He inhales, his chest shuddering against the cold air. “I can’t help — it’s pointless and impossible and stupid but sometimes I wonder if we could ever — if we could ever be —”

Sanji snores on, dead to the world.

Zoro exhales.

 +

 Sometimes, they don’t fight.

That’s the hardest part.

 +

 It’s a cloudy afternoon, and Zoro can feel the salty breeze picking up when he catches sight of Robin and Chopper in front of a bookstore.

Bookstores have never been his thing, all things considered — he visits taverns and swordsmiths and the island’s marketplace when Sanji is in the mood to drag him around, but Robin and Chopper are the ones who go to bookstores and libraries whenever they’re docked. So it is unsurprising, then, when he simply nods at them in acknowledgement before walking past.

It is surprising when Robin reaches out and touches him, lightly, on the elbow.

“Chopper will take some time with the books,” she says. “Do you mind accompanying me for a drink in that café?”

It is how Zoro finds himself in his current situation, sipping terrible alcohol from his colorful drink that’s more sugar than alcohol because it’s the only thing the café offered. Robin is smiling enigmatically from across the table, and Zoro is hit once again with the absurdity of his situation. Sure, he cares about each of his crewmates, would lay down his life for any of them in a heartbeat, but getting overpriced alcohol at a café with Robin ? Not exactly an everyday occurrence.

Robin takes her time, enjoying her drinks as she watches the crowd. Zoro has seen these tactics, knows that she’s trying to make him lower his guard, but Robin is not an enemy. So he does, eventually; he lets the tension in his shoulders bleed out, leaning back into the chair.

Robin waits until the grip on his glass visibly relaxes, and he’s in the middle of taking a sip when she says, “why do you hide your feelings?”

Zoro chokes on his drink.

Robin only smiles in amusement as he’s hitting his chest from all the coughing — Zoro’s pretty sure she did this on purpose. Witches, all of them. “It’s none of your business.”

“Your heart is heavy,” Robin replies. “Any weight on a ship is the business of her crew.”

Zoro pauses. It irks him, the mere implication that he’s dragging the crew back, but he thinks of the night outside of the tavern, his breath visible in the cold air as he asks the unconscious cook, what if? What if? What if? — and in that moment he knows Robin is right.

Doesn’t mean it’s an easy question to answer. “I dunno,” he shrugs, struggling to find the right words. “Sometimes I think about him, and the thing here,” he presses a hand to his chest, “it’s — bursting, like something is about to spill. But then I see him and his stupid face and it’s all —” his hand moves up, hovering over his neck, “ stuck, here. It just — freezes.”

Robin listens patiently, her chin resting on the back of her clasped hands. A moment passes before she asks, “do you think Sanji isn’t worth the trouble?”

Zoro balks. “Of course he is! He deserves —“ A lot of things. More than I have. Everything. Not me. He settles with, “it’s not about the Cook. It’s about this — love thing.”

Robin hums noncommittally. “You and I, I think, are very similar,” she observes. “We have a lot of things we keep close to ourselves, secrets we’ll carry to the grave. But when I am with Franky, every part of me tells me that this one —” she reaches across the table and covers his palm with hers, pressing them both against his chest. Against his heart. “This one, at least — it is one worth sharing.”

Zoro yanks his hand from her grasp and looks away, almost — ashamed. For being so — vulnerable, in a way. So easy to read. His body bruises and heals, stronger by the day — but his heart breaks so easily still.

“You don’t understand,” he shakes his head, “you and Franky, it’s different. Your heart has always been something he wanted to carry.”

Robin tilts her head. “Do you think Sanji would disrespect your feelings?”

The Cook would do a lot of things, he wants to say, but that isn’t quite right. Sanji is rough and sharp, bristles under Zoro’s touch, but the word disrespect have never crossed his mind even once, when it comes to the Cook. Sanji, who refuses to fight with blades and yet still treats Zoro’s katanas with reverence; Sanji, who quickly understood what a scar on Zoro’s back meant, and guarded it with his entire being. Sanji, who — cares, always tries to, always does.

“No,” he answers, surely, steadily. “He won’t.”

Robin smiles at that. “Then let me ask you this question again. Why do you hide your feelings?”

And just like that, all his excuses — gone. Like pebbles in a river, worn away to sand. His heart is still heavy, but it’s the kind of weight that’s accompanied with resolve. “I had a promise with Nami,” he says, almost in a daze. “It’s about time that I go through with that, huh.”

Robin doesn’t ask questions. “You do that,” she says, and that’s that.

 4.

 Zoro doesn’t do things in halves. Not with his dream, not with his nakama, and never, especially, with Sanji, who wouldn’t expect any less from him.

Zoro doesn’t do things in halves, so he takes a blade to the chest and tells Sanji he loves him.

(Zoro might have skipped a few details.)

 +

 On second thoughts, maybe details are unnecessary. He told Sanji that he loved him. That’s the point of this whole thing. The other stuff is just... embellishments, at best; irrelevant, at worst.

The embellishments are these: the air, gunpowder and smoke, bullets flying by overhead. The marines, three galleons big this time, cornering the Sunny against a cliffside before it could leave the island. The Straw Hats, their hands full with a few dozen marine officers each, completely separated from one another.

The embellishments are these: a Vice Admiral whose name Zoro can’t even remember anymore, his blade thin but long, a particular kind Zoro recognized as a naginata. A battle, messier than their usual matchups, him and Sanji against at least six of the Vice Admiral’s underlings. Sanji, distracted — they’d heard Usopp’s pained scream only a few moments ago, and Sanji turned his head then, eyes searching the battlefield for the voice, back facing the Vice Admiral.

The embellishments are simply those — embellishments.

Those aren’t the point.

The point is this: he took a hit meant for Sanji. Something cut deep against his chest, and then inside his chest, and before he knew it Sanji was kneeling over him, screaming his name hoarse. He liked the way his name sounded, coming out of Sanji’s lips. The Cook should say it more often. Maybe he should say Sanji’s name more often, first. Like a challenge, because that’s what it always comes down to, when it comes to them.

The point is this: they were both sweaty and disheveled in the middle of an enemy’s ship and Sanji looked absolutely fucking awful, but Zoro loved him anyway. There was dirt under his nails and someone else’s blood smeared across the bridge of his nose, and Zoro loved him still — in spite of, because of — so much that he can feel the sharp ache of desire against his heart.

The point is this:

“I’m in love with you,” Zoro told him. Blood-soaked, dirt-crusted — but the truth, nonetheless.

(This, at least —)

And then he passed out.

 +

 It is, admittedly, sort of disappointing to see Luffy instead of Sanji when he comes to.

Luffy takes one look at Zoro and immediately cuts to the chase. He tells him, “you need to talk to Sanji.”

No good morning, no are you okay, but then again, Luffy always knows when to trust his nakama with their own battles. Zoro can handle a naginata to the chest just fine on his own. The thing with Sanji — not so much.

He shrugs. “I did.”

“No, dummy,” Luffy replies with a pout, like Zoro’s the biggest dumbass he’s ever met. “You told him words and then you passed out. That’s not talking.”

“I talked to him before that,” he answers, aware he’s being petty but unable to stop himself.

“I mean talk to Sanji,” Luffy insists. He scrunches his nose, wearing the expression he does whenever he’s thinking too hard. “You talk to everyone on the ship but not Sanji and that’s stupid.”

How did you know about that, Zoro wants to say, but of course Luffy does. Luffy is more observant than he appears to be, especially when it matters, and this matters, to Zoro.

“Listen,” he begins, and holy fuck, he thought talking to Robin was weird, but this? This takes the cake by a long mile. “I’m not exactly familiar with this whole — love — thing, okay? This isn’t some enemy I can just cut down. I asked the others, who — they know this stuff, okay, because Usopp has Kaya and Nami has Vivi, and you know about Robin and Franky and I just had to —” he buries his face in his hand. He thinks of Sanji, rough words and soft touches, Zoro’s heart in the palms of his hands, and he blurts out, “I can’t fuck this up, okay? I had to know how to do this right.”

There’s silence, and for a moment Zoro thought Luffy would understand his perspective, but when he looks up from his hand, Luffy is still pouting. “Well, that’s just stupid.”

He grits his teeth, raising from the infirmary bed. “Stop saying that —”

“I won’t, because Zoro won’t listen!” Luffy stands up, looming above Zoro. “It’s stupid, because you tried to talk to everyone about everyone else but Kaya and Vivi and Franky are not Sanji.”

Zoro stills.

“I mean, you said all these things about Franky and Robin, and — okay, Franky knows Robin best because sometimes Robin would make this mystery face and Franky would just know what she’s thinking, but no one on this ship knows Sanji like you know him,” Luffy goes on, jabbing his finger at Zoro’s chest. “Sanji’s the one who’s going to carry this.”

He thinks of Nami, of Usopp. Their shoulders, weighed by unspoken words. “I’ve seen how it could drag me down,” he confesses, in hushed tones. He thinks of the cafe across the bookstore, Robin’s hand against his chest. “Robin told me this one’s especially heavy.”

Luffy grins. “That’s for Sanji to decide. Sanji’s pretty strong you know?” He throws his hands excitedly over his head. “Sanji’s as strong as a thousand men!”

“I’m as strong as two thousand men,” he replies, out of instinct, and Luffy watches him with a small smile.

“Talk to Sanji, Zoro,” he says, after a moment. “I think Sanji wants to talk to you too.”

Zoro settles back into the bed. He thinks of Sanji — fire and ice, thunderstorm and still water; the bloodthirsty hellhound who has stood beside Zoro, shoulder to shoulder, bruised and rough and strong , and the gentle caregiver who makes sure everyone on the ship is fed. Zoro loves Sanji in all his contradictions, and if there’s anyone he could trust with his heart, it’s —

“Okay,” he tells Luffy. He means it this time.

 5.

 When Zoro comes to again, there’s a plate of soup at his bedside. It smells so fucking good and it hits him, suddenly, that he’s hungry; he sits up straight and reaches for it before he could even take in his surroundings, digging into it in record speed. He can feel his joints ache from the movements, but the pain is distant now. Muted.

“You’re welcome,” Sanji says from the other side of the bed.

Zoro almost jumps from the bed — he doesn’t get surprised easily, but Sanji has always been his exceptions. 

When he turns to face the Cook, Sanji is smiling nervously at him, almost hesitant. Sanji looks younger like this, stripped off of all his pretense and bravado, and Zoro wants to kiss him so badly. “Cook,” he says instead.

Sanji’s breath hitches at that, his gaze falling onto his lap. “Marimo,” he replies, but the insult doesn’t have the same edge it usually does.

Zoro’s eye instinctively follows Sanji’s line of sight, and he is surprised to find his swords on Sanji’s lap. Sanji must have kept them safe when Zoro was unconscious, and he feels something warm in his throat at the thought.

Sanji seems to notice Zoro’s gaze, because he shies further into the chair, face flushed. His hands curl around Wado’s hilt, and Zoro lets him — can’t even bring himself to mind it. There are many things, he realizes, he would let Sanji do. It scares him.

He’s not a brave person, but —

“I love you,” Zoro blurts out, words spilling over, unbidden.

Sanji looks up, startled. “What?”

“I love you,” he repeats. It’s weird, how it seemed like an insurmountable task to say the words out loud when they feel like the only words he could say to Sanji now. “I just — I need you to just, know that.”

He expects Sanji to do a lot of things, then. Like a kick on the head, if he’s lucky, or an awkward joke about Zoro getting hit on the head. If fate is being particularly cruel, Sanji would look at him in disgust before storming out of the infirmary. He knows Sanji would never do that — would never treat any of his nakama that way — but Zoro’s chest tightens painfully at the thought anyway, almost irrationally.

He doesn’t expect Sanji to lean forward and press a kiss against his lips.

“Eugh, gross,” Sanji says as he pulls away, much quicker than Zoro would’ve liked, “that was so wet , gross. Why didn’t you swallow your soup, what the fuck.”

Soup. Yeah, He can feel some of it spilling out of his lips, and he absentmindedly wipes it with his hand, fumbling with the bowl of soup in his lap as he sputters, “shit, sorry, I wasn’t —”

When he looks up, Sanji is grinning at him, blinding and all-encompassing. He puts Zoro’s swords aside and reaches out, drawing Zoro close, his eyes soft and fond and happy, happier than Zoro has ever seen him be.

“You dumbass,” Sanji says, the undercurrent of a laugh in his tone. “I love you too.”

Oh , Zoro thinks for a second, and then Sanji is kissing him again, and Zoro forgets how to form a thought at all.

For a long moment, all Zoro knows is this — Sanji’s tongue in his mouth, Sanij’s fingers around his wrist, Sanji’s smile against his. His heart is pounding beneath his ribcage, threatening to burst, and when Sanji finally pulls away he can’t help leaning forward, chasing his lips.

Sanji chuckles at the gesture, amused, and rests his forehead against Zoro’s. Sanji is still grinning, cheeks flushed, and Zoro loves him, viscerally, painfully, so hard he can’t breathe around the shape of it.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He finds himself asking as soon as he finds his breathing.

Sanji’s face turns a shade darker at the question. “I don’t know,” he mutters after a moment. “We don’t exactly talk about our feelings.”

Zoro feels like punching himself in the face. It seems like talking about his feelings is all he does these days, practically half the crew being the receiving end of his sentimental drivels, but Luffy was right — the talking doesn’t count if he doesn’t talk about it with Sanji.

Well. That is all in the past, he supposes. Zoro never finds the point in regretting his past decisions; the only thing he can do is to be better, so he takes Sanji’s hand in his and tells him what he’s always wanted to tell the Cook, “you’re stupid.”

He gets a raise of an eyebrow at that. “Excuse me?”

“You’re stupid,” Zoro repeats, and kisses Sanji again, at the corner of his mouth. He thinks he can get used to this whole kissing thing. “You and your stupid face and your stupid cigarette and your stupid suit,” he’s laughing now, warm and thrilled. “You’re stupid, and I love you.”

“Thank fuck for that, then,” Sanji laughs, and smiles — against his lips, against his heart — and it’s stupid, but Zoro is smiling back too.

 +

 Sanji turns out to be a cuddler, Zoro quickly learns as he wakes up with the Cook somehow having nestled himself into Zoro’s arms, head tucked comfortably against Zoro’s shoulder.

His first instinct is to withdraw himself — and he almost does, pushing himself up on the bed with his free hand — but Sanji presses his face into Zoro’s shoulder at the movement, his grip on Zoro’s hip strong and firm, and Zoro finds himself lowering back down into the bed. He can only see the top of Sanji’s head in this angle, but there’s just something — adorable in the way Sanji is curled up against him with bed-mussed hair, and Zoro is just a man, okay, 

There’s a moment of peaceful silence before he hears Sanji sleepily mumble, “where are you going?”

Zoro wants to shrug, but his right arm is dead and he doesn’t exactly want to jostle a sleepy Sanji more than he already has, so he settles with a chaste kiss against the Cook’s temple. “Dunno,” he answers truthfully. “I just thought — I was practically lying on top of you for the whole night. My hand and half of my body and all — must’ve been uncomfortable.”

Sanji watches him for a moment with sleepy, half-lidded eyes, before curling up into Zoro.

“You know,” Sanji huffs, eyes crinkling, and smiles. “It’s not as heavy as you think.”

Zoro’s breath catches in his throat. It’s a multitude of things at once: the clearing of fog at dawn, a flood, a thunderclap. Sanji has dozed back off to sleep, but Zoro still can’t fucking breathe, not when Sanji’s entire being is pressed against him like they’ve never been apart — chest to chest, feet tangling with one another's. Something ended. Something started.

(This, at least — )

Zoro’s in love. And it’s not as terrible as everyone makes it to be.

[ehstarwar]

under thy own life’s key (6/7)

They’d been like this the whole night. Sleeping only periodically, spending the majority of their time fucking. Slowly sometimes, without any real desire for release, just the feeling of each others bodies. More roughly, other times; desperate pounding that Rey is sure leaves bruises. But she loves it.

-

Ben and Rey celebrate their first time having sex with more sex.

-

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2K

Read on AO3

Notes: thank u all so much for the love so far; u are all my favorite people ever. also plz don't hate me.

Chapter 6: they kill me with a living death

-

She doesn’t know what time it was. It could be four a.m.; could be noon; could be an entire different year for all Rey cared. 

Ben worked his mouth over her chest, laving at her hard, pink nipples that felt perpetually hard. His mouth sucked on one, the other being attended to by his hand; caressing, tugging, flicking. Like it was his one and only purpose. His come was still running down her thighs, combined with the slickness his mouth was creating. His other hand was pulsing in and out of her, two fingers deep in her cunt. His thumb teased her clit until it felt like it was about to fall off. 

They’d been like this the whole night. Sleeping only periodically, spending the majority of their time fucking. Slowly sometimes, without any real desire for release, just the feeling of each others bodies. More roughly, other times; desperate pounding that Rey is sure leaves bruises. But she loves it. 

Her orgasms now don’t come as shocking currents, but more like tidal waves that wash over her entire body. His fingers work her through it as his mouth continues sucking hickeys over her chest. When he withdrawals his finger, Ben brings them to his mouth, sucking every last drop of Rey he can. 

Reys’ hand delicately traces all the moles on his face, making a constellation that she’d repeatedly kissed through the night. His eyes were hooded, she didn’t know if that was from lack of enough sleep or desire for her. She’d like to think it was both.

“What time is it?” She asked, voice hoarse from screams she muffled with pillows or Bens’ hand. 

“Who cares,” Ben says, peppering kisses up her neck. 

“My body has gotten quite used to eating multiple times a day, so, it cares.”

Ben scowled. “I’ll bring you food.”

“You don’t think our friends will notice it’s odd that you’re up and I’m not?”

“I’ll tell them you’re feeling under the weather. That I’m probably  already infected with whatever you have, so I’ll take care of you.”

“That sounds nice…” Ben chuckled into her skin, tickling her neck. “It may be more believable if I go up and say you’re sick. They think you’re a vampire that got sun poisoning yesterday.”

“Our friends are idiots.”

“Yeah, but we choose to be friends with them anyways.”

“Hmmm…” He rubs his face into her hair, inhaling deeply. “It may be wiser for you to go up. That way you won’t fall asleep in a post-orgasm haze. Again.”

“Ugh,” She lightly smacks his arm, cheeks turning red. “I fall asleep because of some sort of sex hormone that orgasms produce. If anything, the blame is on you, not me.”

“I totally believe you, baby.”

There it was. That term of endearment that made Rey hot in all the best ways. Which is bizarre. It’s a very common nickname for significant others that Rey just so happens to have never been called before and now Rey doesn’t want to be called literally anything else. 

It also presents another problem. 

It was an endearment that couples called each other. People who were dating. Had established that they were seeing each other. Who could, for the most part, talk to their partner and figure out where their relationship stood. Something Rey and Ben had yet to do. 

The idea of the forthcoming conversation that they needed to have (they were well beyond the point of being able to put it off), was enough to make Rey shoot up from the bed and out of Bens’ grasp. She rooted around for clean underwear and clothes she could slip on so as not to scar her friends for life.

“You really are hungry,” Ben comments, still laying on the bed. 

“Benjamin, have you met me?”

“Fair.”

“Any particular order that you’d like to place? But I’ll have you know that my culinary skills peaked when I learned to put an egg in instant ramen.” Bens’ mouth twitched up at the corners.

“I’m sure you’ll get enough for the both of us. I’ll just eat whatever scraps you leave behind.”

Rey side eyes him as she begins to climb the stairs. She hears an even toned voice call up ‘try to throw a vegetable in there, too’ before she opens the stairwell door.  

-

After their bellies are full and Ben eats Rey out again (his desert, he’d teased), they wind up in the shower. Ben holds her up, using the tile wall as a support as he relentlessly thrust up into her. Their bodies are slick and Rey would normally be worried about the likelihood of slipping, but she doesn’t with Ben. At no point did his muscles feel like the were ready to give out. He just held her, pounding into her with ruthless abandon, making her chant his name like a prayer.

“You gonna come for me, baby? You gonna get us all filthy again right in the shower?” Rey could only manage to moan for him, nodding her head against the cool tile. Bens’ mouth descended onto her shoulder, lightly biting down as he began to come. His hands held her hips flush with his, leaving no option for Rey other than to just hang limply in his arms as her orgasm crashed through her too. 

Ben was sweet with her then, sinking them both to the shower floor, still attached, as he brushed the water and wet strands of hair out of her eyes. They were like that a minute until she heard a bottle being opened, then felt ben work shampoo into her hair.

“You’re gonna make my hair nice… like yours?” She asked, still a little breathless. He just hummed in acknowledgement. He rinsed out the shampoo before putting conditioner, then worked a soapy wash toweled down her whole body, missing no nook or cranny, even cleaning each toe individually. 

Rey felt like a fucking queen.

Rey returned the favor to him, taking advantage of being able to run her hands through the glorious mop of black hair on his head, and tracing all the hard plains of his muscles. Rey though she’d get scored for taking extra good care washing his firm ass, but Ben didn’t seem to mind. 

They rinsed off, and Ben got out before her, so that he could dry himself off before wrapping Rey like a burrito in a warm towel. She brushed out her hair, applied lotion down her whole body; pampering her for reasons she was too high to question.

They ended up back on the bed, Ben finding new sheets in the small closet and placing them on there. They’d have to think of a believable way to wash the come stains out of the others before they left. Neither of them seemed to care too much at the moment. 

Rey went back to munching on some wheat thins she’d snagged from the kitchen on her run while Ben sat, facing her, rubbing her legs. 

“We should probably talk about… this,” Ben spoke, suddenly, causing Rey to choke for a second on the four wheat thins she currently had stuffed in her mouth.

“About what?” She questioned, mouth still full. Ben gave her a pointed look.

“Rey.” She waived her hands in surrender, setting down the box beside the bed and swallowing the rest in her mouth.

“You’re right, you’re right,” She says, while situating herself a little straighter. A hollow feeling formed in her gut at the thought o having to talk about their relationship, but it’s what adults did. Get through something uncomfortable so that something slightly less uncomfortable would  be waiting for her after.

“I guess I just want to know where we stand… like after… everything.” Ben gestures vaguely to the dirty sheets in the corner.

“After all the sex, you mean.” Bens’ ears turn red and Rey can’t help but caress them. 

“And.. things like that. We didn’t used to do that before.” Rey drops her hand slowly.

“I guess… I don’t know where we stand. It’s… a lot to process.” His face falls.

“We’ve had all night to process.”

“We were sort of busy all night, if you’ll remember. Plus, we’ve been friends for eight year, Ben. Twelve hours isn’t exactly a ton of time to think things over.”

“What is there to think about?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am. What is there to think about Rey?”

She gets up from the bed, needing to put distance between Ben and herself.

“Eight years, Ben. We’ve been best friends for eight years. Going from platonic emotions to very sexually charged emotions, merits a little bit of thinking.”

“Such as?”

Rey huffs, searching her head to find something that wouldn’t make Ben scoff at her. Like there was  chance of that happening.

“Like… who I’m going to call when I want to get drunk in my apartment and watch trashy shows with if I can’t call you.”

“Why wouldn’t you call me? If we’er together, wouldn’t I be the person you’d do that with, no questions asked?”

“What if we fight, Ben? What if we do what we’re doing right now? Who could I call then?”

“We both have other friends! Hell, we’re in a house full of them right now.”

“But you’re different. It’s different between us, Ben, it always has been.”

“That’s exactly why there’s nothing for us to think about! We were always headed towards this!”

“It’s not easy for me to just accept that! You’re my best friend! If it turns out that we weren’t meant for this and we do break up, what am I supposed to do? I can handle loosing a boyfriend, but I can’t handle loosing my best friend on top of that!”

“That won’t happen.”

“We’re fighting right now and we’re not even officially dating.”

“We wouldn’t break up, Rey. We’d make it work. I’m not your parents, I’m not going to leave you like garbage.”

Rey goes rigid. Her whole body tenses as the words play over and over again in her head. 

“Everyone I’ve ever loved has left me, Ben. You can’t be upset with me for being scared.”

His jaw works as his eyes continue to stare deeply into hers.

“I’ve proved myself for eight years that I won’t leave you, Rey. What more do I have to do?”

Rey stares right back at him, unmoving.

“Maybe not be a huge asshole to me while asking for us to be together would have helped.”

Neither of them can move, both unyielding in their respective ground. When it’s clear that their thoughts on this won’t change either, Rey turns around to grab clothes. She takes off the comically large t-shirt that Ben placed on her, replacing it with her own clothing.

“I’m going to stay with Rose for the rest of the trip.” She doesn’t turn to tell him that, but she can hear the squeaking of the bed as he gets up. He doesn’t say anything. When she turns to face him to grab her phone, she sees that his expression is still hard, but his eyes softened a bit. 

Rey forces down the tears that will absolutely be spilling soon.

“Rey, I-” But he doesn’t finish. Rey looks at him, willing from him to say something, anything, but he doesn’t. He closes him mouth and Rey leaves the room. 

-

When Finn opens the door to Roses’ room, he’s met with a watery-eyed Rey.

“Oh, hey Rey. Rose and I were just playing cards. But like, we didn’t have any cards so we were playing with ones on our phone. That’s why there’s no actual cards here. What did you- Are you okay?”

“Finn, I think I messed everything up.” Rey breaks into sobs before she can finish speaking.

[viva-la-sterek]

Happy new year, Sterek Fandom! Here is a list of some greatly enjoyable fics created in the fandom this past year! It’s amazing to see Sterek still going strong with events like @sterekweek-2018​, @sterek-smooch​, @sterekreversebang​, @stereksecretsanta​, and many more! Thank you so much to the many writers, fanartists, graphic makers and everyone that contributes to fandom! x3 

They Say It's Mighty Fine by @the-apocrypha​ (1/1 | 23,234 | Gen.) 

"Hello. This is Alpha Vernon Boyd, calling from Camp Remus about—"

"Derek?" Talia asks, confused. "You're calling about Derek? Is he okay? What happened?"

"Oh, boy." Melissa blows out a breath. "All right. Is he hurt?"

"He's been there for two hours, what could he possibly have—" John pauses. "Hang on, Camp Remus? Like the werewolf camp?"

Where You Still Remember Dreaming by @yodas-yo-yo​ (15/15 | 95,612 | Explicit) 

“What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Balto.”

“What’s yours?”

“Stiles.”

Derek raises an eyebrow. That isn’t his real name. There’s no way. But now he thinks about it, he has a vague memory of someone, probably Uncle Peter, telling him that with the fae, names have power. “I’m Miguel,” he says.

“Lie.”

“Are you trying to tell me your real name is Stiles?”

Stiles runs his tongue across his teeth and considers Derek carefully. “Fair enough,” he says, “Miguel it is.”

Grabbing his groceries and pocketing the change, Derek turns to leave; he’s nearly at the door when Stiles calls out, “By the way, Miguel, if you’re interested, it’s two for one on bags of kibble at the pet store down the street.”

Derek doesn’t look back, doesn’t hesitate, just raises a hand and flips him off on the way out.

Sweet Buns by skoosiepants / @pantstomatch​ (1/1 | 17,936 | Teen) 

Stiles hasn’t seen Derek Hale this close up for over a decade. He looks almost exactly the same, except somehow he seems even bigger and broodier—criminally handsome, with soft-looking dark scruff, heavy brows, light hazel eyes. His gaze zeros in on Stiles almost immediately, and his scowl lightens minutely in what looks like surprise.

Stiles is acutely aware that he has melted butter and cinnamon all over his face, and tries to surreptitiously wipe it with the ends of his sweater-sleeve.

Or-

The a/b/o bakery au with feelings

Scrubbing Bubbles by MargaretKire (8/8 | 46,063 | Explicit) 

Stiles thought it would be easy doing janitorial work for an office. At first, it really was. The job only took a few hours in the evenings and it helped pay for rent and college. Sure, Hale Industries took up an entire floor in one of the downtown financial buildings, but the place was new and easy to care for. He didn’t even have to spend much time cleaning the huge corner office, because the trash was nearly always empty and the office itself was spotless, like no one used it.

It was basically the perfect college job. At least, until the boss started staying late.

Give you that thing you can't even imagine by LunaCanisLupus_22 (1/1 | 10,982 | Explicit) 

the one where mateless Derek thinks no omega can affect him like they do other alphas and he's about to find out he's very, very wrong.

That Frothing Knob by Pride_of_Six (4/4 | 14,598 | Explicit) 

Stiles was wiping down the spout of a machine with a cloth, and Derek almost popped a stiffy right there in the café. It was completely embarrassing that after so many years of control over both his human and wolf side Derek would find himself so… enamoured by this random. Regardless, the wolf wants what the wolf wants, and Derek found himself trying his darnedest to get some sort of a rise out of Stiles, “You sure know how to handle that frothing knob.”

Needless to say, Derek got to see that beautiful blush colouring the barista’s face once again.

hey asshole by @everchanginginks​ (1/1 | 15,631 | Mature) 

The Hales moved in next door more than a year ago and while Cora and Stiles became fast friends, Stiles has yet to meet his best friend's big brother, Derek, who’s been attending college in New York. When Derek comes home for the summer he makes less than a stellar impression. And vice versa.

lube and determination by @bleep0bleep​ (2/2 | 4,873 | Explicit) 

It's a holiday classic: homesick boy wants to make a pumpkin pie while studying abroad, boy realizes the only place to find vegetable shortening is a sex shop, and boy makes fool of himself in front of other boy.

The Quickest Way to a Man’s Heart (is Through His Bottomless Pit) by @isthatbloodonhisshirt​ (1/1 | 54,167 | Explicit) 

Pulling open his apartment door, he let out an involuntary shout when something was quite literally thrust into his chest hard enough to have him almost tip backwards. He managed to right himself while keeping hold of what had been shoved at him and looked up in time to see his neighbour striding back towards his apartment.

“You’re going to fucking kill yourself.”

His door slammed.

Stiles blinked at the other man’s door, utterly confused, and looked down at what he was holding.

It was a plastic bag, full of what felt like tupperware, which made no sense to Stiles because when had his neighbour broken into his house to steal his tupperware?

Sharing Food by @aussiebee​ (2/2 | 9,564 | Explicit) 

Derek is pretty much absorbed into the Stilinski family, one meal at a time.

Have You Tried Turning It Off and On Again? by @sophisticatedyet​ (1/1 | 8776 | Explicit) 

Stiles gets a wrong number call from an old man who can't install his antivirus software. He feels like doing a good deed, so he decides to walk him through it.

Derek is not an old man, just a technologically incompetent twenty-six year old TA who has made enemies of the entire UCLA IT department. The helpful stranger he has just accidentally called is about to become Derek's go-to computer guy.

Bittersweet and Strange, Finding You Can Change (Learning You Were Wrong) by WithMyTeeth (8/8 | 49,983 | Explicit) 

When perpetual loner and failwolf extraordinaire Derek Hale finally loses patience with his meddling family, he grabs a confused Stiles Stilinski, unsuspecting diner patron and herbal medicine student, off the street to pose as his new boyfriend. Hijinks ensue.

Companionship by exclamation / @jessicameats​ (42/42 | 85,697 | Explicit) 

Companions are elite pleasure slaves, trained in music, dance, poetry, and, especially, sex. Stiles is the worst student in the history of the companion school, so his teachers decide to get rid of him by claiming he is interested in bondage and selling him to someone who'll keep him restrained and gagged.

Derek Hale is lonely and interested in BDSM. Buying a companion with an interest in submission seemed like a good idea at the time, but it turns out Stiles is not what was advertised. Not only does Stiles hate the thought of BDSM, he also has very strong opinions on what constitutes consent, or lack thereof. But keeping Stiles seems a better option than sending him back to the school, so somehow they will have to work this out between them.

Do Not Go Gentle by @mojoflower​ (51/51 | 195,878 | Explicit) 

Derek Hale, Beacon Hills Alpha and Dom, wakes up in a dark cell already housing another captive – a mute, traumatized sub with a cruel collar around his neck. His only goal is to get them both free of their brutal circumstances; but even as he tries to get his young companion home, a bond between them grows. Nothing comes easily: danger and harrowing echoes of their ordeal shadow every step they take.

too long to the weekend by @dizzy-redhead (1/1 | 5,261 | Explicit) 

When Derek agreed to show Stiles around Berkeley, he was thinking of Stiles at fifteen, his childhood friend, the son of his mother's best friend.

He was not prepared for Stiles, all grown up.

Married at First Glance by WonderWolf (14/14 | 63,558 | Explicit) 

Married at First Glance gives its participants seven weeks. Seven weeks, starting when they meet and marry their “perfect match”, to decide if they want to stay married or divorce.

For Stiles and Derek though, the challenge lies within trying to pretend that they don’t absolutely hate each other’s guts. When you’re married to a werewolf who dislikes humans, however, this can get a little tricky.

But the sweet, sweet cash reward at the end will be worth it. Right?

(A Married at First Sight AU)

Show Me Your Igloo and I'll Show You Mine by @thisdiscontentedwinter (1/1 | 4,943 | Explicit) 

Stiles is finally going to meet the online friend he's had for years.

Instead, the hottest guy in the world walks in.

Broken Car, Lemon Bar by inhystereks / @bibliophile246 (6/6 | 27,884 | Mature) 

Stiles got out of his car so whoever was coming wouldn't think he was just being an asshole and stopped in the middle of the road on purpose. He almost laughed when he caught sight of the approaching car. A black Camaro. Which meant Derek Hale was the one slowing down to pull up behind him. The town mechanic and also the scariest fucker around.

Oh, sweet irony.

He was exactly the person Stiles desperately needed and was also terrified of.

Perfect.

The Courting Dilemmas of a Spark and a Werewolf Prince by green-leaf (2/2 | 11,472 | Teen) 

Talia smiled calmly. “I am well aware that you are not a werewolf, my darling, but I thought this would be the best reading material for you to use as reference. After all, how would you know how to act during a courting ritual if you do not study it?”

“But I don’t... I’m not…” Stiles narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you setting me up with someone?”

Talia rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t be obtuse, my darling. Why would I set you up with someone –”

“Oh, well, that’s good, because–”

“–when I have a son who is already perfectly enamored with you?”

The Accused by @drgrlfriend (1/1 | 5,764 | Mature) 

“Remember when I thought I was in love with Kate, and she turned out to be a murderous hunter who killed most of my family and blinded me in the process?”

Erica’s voice was cautious. “Derek — what the fuck — of course I remember, how could you even ask? —”

“Well, my mate is worse,” Derek said flatly.

A Little Less Conversation by Lissadiane (1/1 | 5,626 | Gen.) 

Derek has learned to be a good Alpha in most of the ways that count. The problem is, now that he's well-adjusted, safe, and happy, it's time to turn his attention to the one thing he's always sucked at: finding a nice, sweet Omega mate.

Lucky for him, Erica and Stiles have ideas on how to make that as painless as possible.

In which Derek Hale is a failwolf and somehow, ends up going speed dating.

Cheers to more Sterek in 2019!! 

[theuntrendygirl]

Tu me manques...

She stood waiting, patiently for once, but the nagging sensation at the nape of her neck kept her foot tapping away. Waiting. That seemed like all she was built to do these past few days. Weeks. Months. It had become the perpetual nature of her hurricane of a life.

It was funny she thought, she’d always considered her life to be a storm, one mash up of color and chaos to the next but when she had quoted something to him the other night to try and buoy his ever sinking spirits she had backpedaled. “When it rains, it pours,” had been one of her mother’s favorite quotes and thus the context had stuck with her. He’d replied with some comment like how it wasn’t just raining but had turned into a hurricane. Well, “a fucking hurricane,” she thought his words had been. And for a moment her world centered on his words lingering in her mind.

Was she silently comparing apples to oranges, or was she to much of a problem for him to handle, could he handle her? Not that she needed handling in the sense of a babysitter, but her moods varied from minute to minute. Her life often seemed more chaotic than relaxing, she loved deeply and avoided hating anyone (though she’d been tempted enough times).

“So what happened next?” His voice broke through her thoughts, saying it sounded like velvet seemed strange since velvet was tactile but when he spoke not only did his words give her a heady rush but it felt like they wrapped her in one of his hugs she so desperately craved.

She smiled and felt a laugh bubble through her lips, he was working and she felt bad for taking up so much of his time. It was selfish really, he’d said it wasn’t but her gut had yet to fail her the way so many other things had. She had merely wanted to see him for a moment, enough to sustain her, a little taste if you will.

Did she get a chip for sitting at the bar, swirling the glass, smelling the sweet amber and setting it back down untouched she wondered?

“You know honestly, I don’t remember. My mind is….elsewhere tonight, I’m sorry.” She tried for a reassuring smile but knew it didn’t reach her eyes. Instead she pointed at some random knick-knack on the counter and commented on the corny advertising designed to lure horny teenagers into buying their useless product. They chit chatted, this that and the other.

It felt good to stand there, just talking. Then again she was fairly certain just being quiet and in the same room would soothe her. She’d never admit that fact to him though. Desperately she tried to stay present in their conversation, getting distracted when she watched his interactions with his customers. While she could tell her smile never reached her eyes anymore it was clear to her, even behind his smudged lenses, that his did. Even the idle chatter from passing persons drew his smile into his eyes.

A goofy grin spread her lips, vaguely she heard him ask what but was to wrapped up in her thoughts to really respond. The passing ambulance lights outside pulled her attention away and she was thankful. She’d been staring absent mindedly at him. It was a thing, not really staring to be rude or obnoxious but staring to find out how he could keep going. How could he smile from one customer to the next, nobody was that good an actor so it had to be genuine, right? She wanted to know the secret, she wanted to tell him how his eyes glowed with each little smile or pull of his lips when he spoke. She wanted to gush about how there seemed to be a universe full of gravity surrounding him. Pulling people towards him, maybe that’s why she felt such a strong pull. Maybe, she was just insane.

She felt insane. Most people thought she was anyways, so maybe it was true. The complications surrounding her life were, exponentially getting worse by the minute. She needed less complications; not more. Not when it meant her heart was on the line, again. Not after it seemingly was finally stitched back together with frayed yarn that could snag and pull apart at any moment. But this, whatever they meant to one another, she knew it would be a hard won fight or her ultimate downfall. Putting to much hope in one person had always proved her the fool. One thought kept her fighting though, kept her trying for this… “not everyone is like your ex or the others who hurt you,” a friend had said, Liz was; undefinable, but she needed to quiet her anxiety and Liz knew how to do that with logic. The more facts she was provided, the more common sense something was, the better she felt about, well, what she was feeling.

She couldn’t tell him, not yet, for fear and stress kept her warm at night. Whispering nasty little things into her dreams, warping them into nightmares. Twisting a happy want into a forgotten need. Logic could keep her racing heart under control but it fueled the fire of her anxiety. She tried to explain, but her explanations always seemed long winded and unwanted. She would mold herself into what each person in her life wanted. The dutiful daughter, the supportive friend, the employee; the hats were to many and bountiful. Her mind raced, her heart skipped beats, her anxiety clawed at the back of her throat, tearing it open squashing her words, keeping her from speaking, but yet, when she thought of him, or replayed conversations they’d had or even stood next to him in silence, all the bad things that crawled between the sulci were quieted. Her mind was tame and pliable to her will vs. it’s own. How did she put into words all of the things she felt from one second to the next when she thought of him? How could she talk about how her nightmares turned to dreams and hopes when they spoke?

She imagined herself talking about these thoughts, made idle chatter with him as the minutes progressed past the hour mark. How could she utter the words that she had dreamt of them coming home to one another to talk about their days, or how an imagined fight over a restaurant for dinner left her heart beating faster, how she watched as they danced through the kitchen while pasta boiled on the stove to some cheesy song on the radio. She’d felt it all and somehow had grown attached to the feelings it had all created. She wanted it to come true, very much so in fact. But things were….what was the line again; she thought, feeling the words etch themselves into the skin of her lip, complicated. She ran her tongue over the newly scrawled words and winced at the pain.

She should be used to pain by now she figured. It kept her going, kept her from breaking down. One of her favorite movies and favorite actors quoted pain once and it stuck in her brain…

“Urgayle: Pain is your friend, your ally, it will tell you when you are seriously injured, it will keep you awake and angry, and remind you to finish the job and get the hell home. But you know the best thing about pain?

Jordan: Don't know!

Urgayle: It lets you know you're not dead yet!”

People doubted her knowledge of pain, what could such a young girl know of pain. Enough to cause any grown man to whimper she thought. Emotional pain aside, the physical had damn near killed her. Between migraines and pulled ribs she didn’t even need to include the previous surgeries. They’d been bad enough. Emotional and mental turmoil, in her mind were worse. How many opportunities had she been given to leave her ex while they were together? At least a dozen. There was great love there, she knew that, along with wonderful memories but as she grew through the pain she realized they hadn’t been meant for one another. And perhaps she thought, it had just been enough to sustain her till she found what she had truly been looking for. Who knew, no matter what you believe in or don’t some things always feel like fate.

Where would she be now if she had left him, 4 years ago? How different would her life look and did she want it any different because for now her path seemed clear? Well, as clear as it could get with all the, let’s call it bullshit, surrounding them now. Most days she felt the kindness drain from her fingertips leaving only bitterness on the tip of her tongue.

She looked over at him now, memorizing the shape of his jaw and fuzziness that had grown in, the curve of his nose, his to chocolate eyes...she felt silly, tracing over the details of his face as he chatted with some random person. But this was how her mind worked, she knew the details of his face simply from closing her eyes. And on the days she needed him by her side she imagined him there if only to calm her nerves. They’d had this discussion, several times, how seeing one another brings a sense of calm over each other. It hadn’t dawned on her that anyone could describe perfectly how she felt when she saw him but even then he astonished her. It was nice, knowing that someone could think and feel as deeply as she could. She’d never had that before, never really had anyone she could express her opinions too, well yeah friends listen but it wasn’t the same. To her intimacy wasn’t sex, though that was one of the finer things in life, intimacy with someone is sharing your mind, your thoughts, things you’d never find yourself sharing with anyone else. Two halves of whole and that whole cliche. She’d not even trusted her ex with some of things she thought of or about. He never knew the poetry scrawled across her heart or how deeply she felt things. He never cared too. Maybe that’s what made this so strikingly different.

Before her was a man, a man who cared. Who didn’t blow her off or try to change the subject when it’s something he’s unfamiliar with. He listened and talked and asked questions; he let her talk about work, one of the most important things in her life. And equally she gave him her attention as well. She’d never had any interest in cars; unless she was driving them. And then all that mattered was the speed of the engine and how high the volume went. Most of his car talk still boggled her mind, but she hoped it would be something that she could learn more about and so she didn’t appear as stupid as she felt.

It was nice to have someone who generally seemed interested in sharing bits of their life with her. It helped her curiosity. They could talk about anything really and after each conversation she’d be left with either more questions or satisfied for having learned something entirely new, whether it be from the conversation itself or learning more about the man she’d fallen for. Either way, it had been something she’d been looking for. Her friends were amazing and they kept her entertained, kept her mind racing and researching but it wasn’t the same. Maybe there was no right way to describe it.

If it was simply a fleeting moment perhaps the gravitational pull wouldn’t be so strong, if truth be told, it had become a craving of sorts. The snippets of conversation, the random visits, hugs and more. The more was emblazoned in her memory, every bit of it to the point it caused nervous laughter to fall from her lips.

She hoped the nervousness would eventually dissipate as she stared at the singular cause of….well could it really be called distress? Not in the traditional sense at least. Things would get easier, better...normal…was normal what she wanted? Everything thus far had been abnormal, shocking, surprising, you name it and she wouldn’t have it any other way. Well...maybe less complicated, but as she looked at him complicated became more and more appealing.

***So it’s not finished...and it’ll be a spell before I pick it back up!***

[twoofcups]

captaindog replied to your post

“captaindog replied to your post “i can’t FUCKING wait for halloween...”

Honestly any! I’m always particularly hungry for ghosts and monsters but I like pretty much anything except shock torture stuff (like saw or audition)

honestly i Hate torture porn so much like...it sucks and it’s boring but i can break down a list! most, if not all, of these have very few jump scares because i fucking hate jump scares.  sadly i don’t have a lot of “the classics” on here because i JUST started being able to stomach gore, and a lot of classic horror movies are like ... incredibly gory so i still need to watch them. 

COMEDIES - horror comedies are honestly one of my favorite genres. most of these aren’t too scary, but they’re all very good. 

jennifer’s body- peak 2000s culture. we weren’t ready for this movie then, but we sure as hell are now. monster: demons. 

shaun of the dead - a STAPLE in british comedy and in british horror. monster: zombies.

little evil - a really heartwarming story about a real estate agent trying to bond with his new stepson, who is the spawn of satan. 1000/10 the most pure movie i’ve ever seen. monster: demons and cults. 

what we do in the shadows: aka queer eye for the vampire guy. it’s not really scary, but obviously it has spooky themes!!! monster: vampires. 

tucker and dale vs. evil: a classic story of misunderstandings, where classic horror stereotypes are analyzed from the other end. monster: some dumbass college kids. 

zombieland - an american CLASSIC. definitely a must-see for new horror fans. monster: zombies

housebound - very witty and creepy. makes you laugh but also feel a sense of unease. monster: ???? 

the addams family & addams family values - not scary, but definitely spooky and zany. i think this was really like...my intro to horror. i used to watch these movies over and over again in like...first grade and they’re v dear to my heart. i was wednesday addams for halloween in 4th grade and everyone thought i was a pilgrim and i was Enraged. morticia and gomez adopt me challenge. monster: DEBBIE. 

practical magic - because who doesn’t love cute little witchy romcoms???? we need more of them. where are they. monster: some dick ex boyfriend and witchphobia. 

HISTORICAL - period horror movies really butter my eggroll. they’re just really fun and they always have an added sense of creepiness depending on the era 

the conjuring series (the conjuring, the conjuring 2, annabelle, annabelle: origins, and the nun) - these films go balls to the wall because they’re based on the true accounts of ed and lorraine warren, a demonologist couple who performed exorcisms in the 50s-60s. obviously things are dramatized, but knowing that they supposedly happened adds an extra flair of creepiness. monster: demons and ghosts. era: 50s and 60s. 

bram stoker’s dracula - apparently, keanu reeves and wynona rider accidentally got married filming this and have just like been married for 25 years without realizing it. monster: vampires. era: 1800s? i think??? 

crimson peak - this movie is like the DEFINITION of slow burn horror. its attention to little details creates such an amazing build up, and then it goes balls to the fucking wall at the end. ALSO guillermo del toro’s ghost designs are so innovative and creepy. monster: ghosts. era: 1910s. 

the awakening - one of my FAVORITE historical thrillers of like...all fucking time. a woman who makes a living off of debunking spiritualists is asked to investigate a boy’s boarding school that’s dealing with a ghost problem. shit gets VERY real. monster: ghosts???? era: 1920s. 

the woman in black - oof this has EVERYTHING you want from a gothic horror movie. she has the vibe. she has the range. she’s a little slow moving, but not any more so than any other period drama. monster: ghosts. era: 1800s. 

pride and prejudice and zombies - the bitch goes OFF. literally just a retelling of pride and prejudice, but better, because there’s zombies. lena heady once again takes on her most famous role as That Petty Bitch. era: regency england (1770s ish?). monster: zombies. 

the witch - WIG !! this bitch goes off!! another historical slow burn, but this one really isolates you with its use of olde english. you feel unsettled by the vibe, but also because you feel like you’re in a different world and you don’t belong. monster: you’ll see. era: early colonial america like the 1600s 

FOREIGN - these movies left me SNATCHED from across the fucking globe. i need to watch more tbh 

train to busan - one of the best and most claustrophobic zombie movies i’ve ever seen. i highly, highly recommend it!! it just goes balls to the wall. monster: zombies.  language: korean 

the orphanage - up there with little evil on my list of pure horror movies. the ending made me cry happy tears. a very intriguing ghost-kid story done right. monster: ghosts. language: spanish. 

dead snow - love zombies??? hate nazis??? this is the movie for you. just like 2 hours or smth like that of good old fashioned nazi killing. also has a comedic edge to it. monster: zombie nazis. language: norwegian

les diaboliques - a black and white CLASSIC, and a mind-bending story of psychological manipulation and murder. so good that hitchcock himself said he wished he’d made it. language: french. era: released in 1955

PSYCHOLOGICAL - they just...fuck with your brain and really make you think 

the purge series - the purge series gets a lot of shit because it APPEARS as a hobbsian “people are naturally evil without order” fantasy, but it’s actually the complete opposite. the purge series is about a malicious government that creates a system of state-sponsored violence, where the wealthy + white are usually the ones perpetuating the violence, while poor people, people of color, and other minorities have to stick together to survive. basically the moral is that capitalism and wealth result in a lack of empathy. it’s VERY politically driven. monster: rich white people. 

get out - THE most innovative, mind-bending thriller of this fucking ERA. a fascinating, gut-churning investigation of racism in the modern age. . it’s just jaw-dropping. phenomenal. incredible. monster: rich white people (again). 

gerald’s game - HEAVY trigger warning for CSA, i’m gonna be up front with that. a woman is taken to a cabin by her husband on a romantic getaway. they attempt to do some freaky bdsm bullshit, and he dies of a heart attack while she’s handcuffed to the bed. she has to use her trauma, her hallucinations, and mental illness in order to save herself. monster: inner demons . 

MORE FAVORITES: 

world war z - just like...the most inventive and well-researched zombie movie i’ve ever seen. they hired real contortionists and dancers to play the zombies, and researched a virus found among ants that creates a zombie like effect. a very interesting and fast-paced take on the zombie narrative. also, those fuckers can RUN. monster: zombies. 

the babadook - gay icon. need i say more? (warning: a dog does die :( ) monster: depression. 

TV

the walking dead -admittedly i watched the first five seasons in a month and haven’t watched it since, but it’s phenomenal. monster: zombies and the governer. PEAK southern gothic. alignment: edgy bastard. 

ash vs evil dead - the goriest, crudest, and most disgusting thing i’ve ever seen, BUT if you can handle a ton of blood, guts, and other fluids, it’s really enjoyable. recommend watching the evil dead trilogy first, but you don’t have to as long as you know the premise. alignment: dumbass bastard. monster: zombie demons i guess? 

lucifer - not particularly horror, but still a paranormal show that’s here for a good time. the devil gets bored of being the devil and decides to solve crimes in LA. monster: i mean the devil i guess. alignment: edgy thot 

american horror story: oof this was where my real passion for horror started in high school!!! each season is different, but i highly reccommend the odd numbered seasons: murder house (season 1), coven (season 2), and hotel (season 5). asylum (season 2) is good too, but you don’t need to waste your time on seasons 4 or 6. i couldn’t get through season 7 because there was too much stuff about my phobia. alignment: edgy bitch. monster: EVERYONE. 

AND THERE IT IS !! a full, comprehensive guide for starter horror fans!!! i’m sorry this is so long kdjglkfdj i just really love this stuff. 

[bakasara]

Hannibal Rewatch musings / 2x08 through 2x13

OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK. I JUST REMEMBERED. THEY'RE IN FUCKING LOVE WITH EACH OTHER! oooooooooHHHHHHHHH FUUUUUU

❀ “Is your social worker in that horse?” 🔝🔝

❀

cheers i’ll drink to that bro

❀ first time of two they do the ‘Heads and Arms in a Heart’ position, it’s the Hannigram Signature Pose now I don’t make the rules

❀ Hannibal was ready to give Will back Abigail because Will wished for her to be back and because Hannibal was honestly pained that she wasn't...

Obviously Hannibal is always calculating, so bringing Abigail back would just so have happened to tie Will further to Hannibal, but the end goal of tying Will further to Hannibal is... that Will is tied further to Hannibal. In Hannibal's fucked up view of the world, that was a genuine gift done out of love and if Will would be grateful for it then all just the better

❀ Will felt more dangerous not killing Mason of his own volition than if he had killed him without realizing Hannibal had tried to manipulate him and the surrounding situation into it. He's deadly when he's lucid, including knowing that he's being influenced, because then he fully becomes the wild variable that even Hannibal - and even Will himself - can't predict or control AND whatever he does tends to have a scary punctuality and efficacy to it, no matter that sometimes he doesn’t know what it is he’s trying to accomplish until he’s doing it. (Also, Hannibal ostensibly likes that about his husband, no matter that it can 'inconvenience' him up to making him suffer a great deal).

❀ i know i know, not the husbando yet. let me say husband, i’m trying so hard to stay in the moment but it’s difficult to pretend not to know everything that follows. let me live people it’s been 3 years and that blood wedding's a done deal in my mind by now. i’m at their fucked up, perpetually conflicted murder version of a full domesticity stage, they’re in cuba, i don’t know, it’s all your fault for asking about flip flops with socks or without. i live in a state of multiple coexisting WoC Clarice Starling scenarios and infinite Spaghetti Zeller being eaten Lady and the Tramp style, i

❀ Will letting Hannibal snap Mason's neck in front of him, not knowing if Hannibal's going to kill Mason: is this arresting Hannibal?

❀ lol every time Mason is in Hannibal's office defiling the space in some way I suffer. But not as much as Hannibal omg

still one of his best faces he is SCREAMING HE FUCKING!!! HATES!!! MASON!!! 🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃

❀ MY FAVORITE MURDER KITTEN!!! MARGOT!! ❤️❤️❤️

❀ Hannibal: so hmmm it's like I'm Achilles and you're Patroclus and

me:

❀ Hannibal straight up saying if Will drops the Jack thing now, he's willing to forgive him and move on. Straight up telling him he doesn't need a sacrifice which is as good as saying he will give Will one if he forces his hand, though. Just.

❀ Only Bryan Fuller can make me cry while the main character guts the other main character because I just realized they're actually in love with each other. It's just, when Will turns around and they're suddenly so close, the way Will looks at Hannibal with this pure openness... all pretenses have fallen and in that moment for the first time he's naked, as it were, and that is how he looks at Hannibal.

And y'know, before that, I suspected. That’s my general stance, even now in the rewatch, if I do the mental experiment of just looking at the ‘evidence’ like I would if I didn’t know what’s next. I suspect. Looots of hearts and 'love' and 'courtship' and soulful gazing and getting compared to mythological figures long debated to have been romantic, fittingly because of ancient subtext made of conventions everyone at the time recognized as obvious.

But in that moment I see Will looking at Hannibal like that and I always invariably go, oh fuck. Oh fuck, Will's in it deep for real. And then Hannibal looks at Will, and touches him so reverently, and I know it's the same for him.

❀ The way Will says, "You were supposed to leave". That's it, just. Whispering it, pained, desperate. That kills the woman.

❀ "I gave you a rare gift, but you didn't want it."

"Didn't I?"

❀  No seriously, I'd... forgotten that when I'm watching Hannibal I'm watching a show where the two male mains are in love? As in officially, actually what the show is about? Where their relationship is canonically romantic in nature, as a storyline that is the main storyline of the series? I knew very well, but I'd forgotten? And then I watched Mizumono and remembered it's reality? I didn't conjure it up, it's a show out there that exists, and that's the plot.

❀  and then that useless disaster cannibal has the gall to kill me with a single tear?!?!

❀ HANNIBAL’S CRYING! WILL’S CRYING! I’M CRYING! WE’RE ALL CRYING!

[ofplanetsloved]

re: ruby, meg, and the long con

so we all know that supernatural has a REALLY bad stakes problem because nobody expected it to last literally fifteen years, but one of them is the stakes problem between azazel and lucifer: is azazel planning on running an army and needing just one of many psychic children to win his demon blood hunger games or is sam destined to be lucifer’s vessel?

(and how do my two beloved demons fall into play?)

so i do try to stick with canon personally in my portrayals but i also have to bend canon when canon doesn’t stick with canon so bare with me !!! i think sam was always destined to be lucifer’s vessel— they make it pretty clear, specifically with the cupid admitting that mary and john hated each other but were cupid-ed together (5.14) in order to fulfill the destiny of sam and dean being lucifer and michael (and also cain and abel to a degree, which considering they’re descendants of cain (10.14), like, this is all ❝ destined ❞.

that said, sam needed to have a full arc of independence from dean to say ❝ yes ❞ to lucifer. lucifer/various demons have been controlling his whole life— various teachers, prom date, and fucking BRADY. lucifer made sure that sam was going to go off to college, putting a schism between him and dean. and then made sure he stayed there with brady. if sam stayed in the role of little baby brother in adoration of dean, lucifer had no chance of getting him to say yes.

by having jessica burned, azazel helps move this forward. now sam is full of rage and anger and a need for revenge. that need for revenge is more than just against azazel for jessica, because it stays with him as the need for revenge against lillith, therefore domino domino domino apocalypse.

i buy into the idea that azazel knew dean would sacrifice himself for sam. azazel sets up this whole hunger games situation knowing that sam has to come out on top because he’s the vessel, but also, sam is not strong (?) enough to kill an innocent man, which is so tasty on its own. and now azazel and lucifer and lillith have the righteous man in hell, so they can start breaking some fucking seals. i think the demons have been planning this for centuries. so.

meg:

meg is not an insanely powerful demon. she’s pretty low on the hierarchy, but because azazel sees her as a daughter, she gets to kick ass and do stuff. her main goal for season one is to kill john for azazel. she just wants to kill john and make azazel happy. i think, like i said, that the plan was always to get dean to sacrifice his soul, and she really just had to kill john or sam to make it work. if john died because of non-deal means, i think dean would’ve made a deal to save him. i don’t know. anyway. she does NOT know about the big plan (she says in 5.1 that if she knew, she would’ve killed dean ages ago). she just knows she wants to make her dad happy (and when he’s dead... new dad time!!!)

ruby:

ruby is also in on the big plan, but in an insanely different way that meg is. ruby is the right hand man of THEE lilith. and lilith is the only one who knows that ruby is on their side. meg certainly thinks ruby’s a traitor. they all do. she’s gone so deep undercover that she can literally tell nobody about this plan and that she’s only helping sam to kill lilith as the final seal. and it’s such a waiting game for her bc she has to make him powerful and willing enough to do it the MOMENT the 65th is broken, but she can’t make him too eager to do it before then. it’s a fine scale and she fucking does it. she was the BEST of the sons of bitches and did this with every demon in hell hating her guts. girlie started the apocalypse with a perpetual target on her back.

//personals please do not reblog, this is a roleplay post//

[what-happened-to-agent-georgia]

Glitter and Roses

Happy Fluff Week!! I was tagged by @secretlystephaniebrown, who prompted: “Sherry has a secret admirer, and it’s definitely not Ohio.”

Read on Ao3; @rvbficwars

Rating: T

Warnings: Canon-Typical Language/Violence

Characters: Ohio, Sherry, Idaho, Iowa, Terrill, Darryl

Pairing: Ohio/Sherry

Summary: Sherry has a secret admirer, and it’s definitely not (not) Ohio.

It starts with the purple envelope.

“I have what?” Sherry asks through a mouthful of oatmeal. Still half asleep, she’s not sure she heard Darryl correctly.

“Mail,” he says. “You have mail.”

He holds out a purple envelope, and Sherry snatches it away from him, shoving her breakfast aside. The envelope is emblazoned with Sherry in silver glitter pen with the address “Base #2, Snowball Planet” scrawled below it in black pen, like an afterthought.

“What does it say?” Darryl asks, wringing his hands.

“I haven’t opened it yet,” Sherry says. She tucks the letter into her sweatpants pocket. “And I’m not opening it in front of you.”

“What?” Darryl throws his hands in the air. “Why?”

“Because,” is all Sherry says, pulling her bowl of oatmeal towards her. Darryl sighs and flops down at the table next to her, poking at his own breakfast.

Sherry shovels the rest of her food into her mouth and tosses her dirty bowl in the sink.

“I am not washing that,” Darryl snaps.

“I’ll get to it sometime,” Sherry says, shrugging.

Then she sprints out of the mess hall, pulling the purple envelope out of her pocket as she goes. She turns the envelope over and over in her hands, impatient to reach her quarters so she can finally open it.

Sherry’s never really received before. She was only six when her family fled their home planet, and twelve when she became an orphan. No one ever sent her letters when she was in the army—well, she’s technically still in the army but, you know. Maybe her granny sent her a birthday card when she was little, but Sherry doesn’t remember. Does it count if she can’t remember?

Once she reaches her room, she punches the code in and scurries inside, flipping on the light as the door hisses shut behind her. Falling onto her bed, she pulls out her knife and, holding it above her head, carefully slits the envelope open—

—and begins coughing and sneezing as a cloud of blue glitter bursts out of the envelope and covers her face.

“The fu—ack!” Sherry nearly chokes, spits out a mouthful of glitter, and sits bolt upright. All the glitter that didn’t stick to her face falls into her lap.

So, whoever the fuck sent her this letter is either a five-year-old who got a little overzealous with the blue glitter or hates Sherry’s guts. Her room is going to be covered in the stuff forever. She will literally die before this shit goes away.

Blinking some of the blue sparkles from her eyelashes, Sherry reaches into the purple envelope to see if there’s anything else inside. Her fingers close around a folded piece of paper, and she pulls it out, bringing another onslaught of blue glitter with it.

“Son of a bitch,” she mutters under her breath.

Shaking the folded piece of paper, she realizes that it’s a page ripped out from an old Warthog manual. Unfolding the note, she has to squint to read it—the message is written in red marker over the small black print explaining the functions of each of the Warthog’s six pedals.

 Roses are red (I think, I’ve never seen one in person)

Just like your armor (Well, the accents on your armor)

I really like your armor.

Actually, I think roses are more than one color, but there are red ones. I think.

I’m sorry none of this rhymed.

Sincerely,

Your Secret Admirer

 Sherry rereads the letter several times before laying it on the small table next to her bed. She lays down again, staring at the ceiling. She sighs, regretting it instantly as a puff of glitter shoots into the air.

Secret admirer.

Sherry looks around at the carnage the envelope left behind. Only one person on this planet could be so diabolically adorable.

So, it’s more like a secret admirenemy?

A small smile tugs at the corner of Sherry’s mouth, and she rolls out of bed and grabs her under-suit, frowning when she realizes that, even though it was in a drawer, it’s covered in blue sparkles as well. Fucking how?

Shimmying into her under-suit, she wonders how Vera got the envelope to Darryl. Did they plan it? Did she slip it under the door to the fucking base and Darryl just happened to find it first? Vera’s snuck in here before, should know where Sherry’s room is at. What game is she playing?

Sherry considers the possibility that Darryl, and by association, Terrill, are pulling her leg. Wouldn’t be the first time. As she puts on her armor, she also considers the possibility of killing her last two remaining teammates if they are, in fact, messing with her.

But once she’s finished getting ready and pulling her helmet on, she’s still ninety percent sure Vera sent her the letter. They haven’t had glitter here for years, and she knows they’ve never had envelopes. Who uses envelopes when there’s computers and shit?

It’s got to be Vera.

Stepping out into the hallway, Sherry smiles.

“She likes my armor,” she giggles.

#

“No idea what you’re talking about!” Vera shouts at her over the sound of bullets and bombs.

They’re having their daily brawl in the snow between their bases, chucking grenades too far left and shooting bullets a bit too high into the air.

Terrill and Darryl are busy running away from Iowa, who’s managed to halfway repair one of the jeeps and is driving it after them. Of course, half-repaired also means the jeep is on fire, which means Idaho is running after Iowa, telling him to get out of the fucking jeep while firing bullets in the vague direction of Terrill and Darryl.

Sherry figures this is the best time to confront Vera.

“Bullshit!” she shouts. “There are literally no other girls on this planet, who else would it come from?”

“I dunno, maybe there are other girls here!” Vera shoots back, jumping up to chuck a snowball at Sherry’s head.

It misses.

By a lot.

“If you wanna go on a date, all you gotta do is ask!” Sherry says.

Vera freezes in the middle of throwing a sharp chunk of ice.

“A—psh, hah, a date? No, nope, you’re the enemy, I can’t date the enemy, Sherry,” Vera sputters, “That—That would be, uh, treason?”

“Maybe so!” Sherry yells. “But who’s gonna know?”

Vera doesn’t have anything to say to that, she just stares, still holding the hunk of ice aloft. Sherry crosses her arms and waits. Somewhere in the distance, there’s a crash followed by an explosion, and Sherry really freaking hopes there isn’t a hole in the wall of her base.

Before Vera can think of what to say, however, a stray bullet hits the ice in her hand. Tiny shards of ice explode in a shower of blue and white, and Vera jumps back.

“Agh!” she cries.

Sherry loses sight of her as Vera drops behind the barrier she’s fashioned out of scrap metal, but she’s not so sure it’s to escape the onslaught of bullets. She grins, wonders if Vera has started digging a tunnel to escape again.

“I didn’t send the letter!” The disembodied voice of Vera comes from directly to Sherry’s right, which means Vera dug the tunnel before the battle this time.

Whirling around, Sherry turns just in time to see a blue blur as Vera pounces, smashing a fistful of snow onto Sherry’s visor as she takes her down, knocking the breath out of her. Vision impeded, Sherry lashes out with her arms, trying half-heartedly to shove Vera away.

Leaning down, Vera whispers into Sherry’s ear.

“If I had sent the letter, I would’ve put something a little bigger than a blue glitter bomb.”

“How’d you know the glitter was blue?” Sherry whispers back.

“Uh—fu—it was a guess!” Vera scrambles up and bolts away, tossing one last “It wasn’t me, dammit!” over her shoulder.

By the time Sherry pushes herself to her knees and wipes the snow from her visor, Vera, Idaho, and Iowa are halfway back to their base. They kick up clouds of snow as they retreat, leaving a trail of scorched ice, smoke, and bullet casings behind them.

Sherry laughs, falling back onto the ground and staring at the perpetually gray sky, ready to drop a fresh blanket of snow on their bases.

That night, before she shuts off the light in her quarters, she reads the letter that’s definitely not (not) from Vera.

#

Then comes the “cake”.

“Cake” in quotation marks because it’s made from freeze-dried ice cream sandwiches smashed together in a nine-by-nine square. It arrived in a purple box Darryl almost tripped over on his way to the bathroom. Whoever dropped it off decided the best place to leave it was the top of the stairs leading to their bunks.

Luckily, there’s no glitter this time.

Sherry stares at the “cake”, wondering how long Vera—or whoever, but she knows it’s fucking Vera—saved these ice cream sandwiches. Sherry and the others finished what sweets they had, like, three years ago.

“Goodness,” Terrill says, eyes wide, “She must really like you.”

“Shut up, Terrill,” Sherry snaps, lifting the “cake” out of the purple box it came in and placing it on the table. “Anyway, she says it isn’t her.”

“Right,” Darryl snorts, “And I’m definitely not the one who’s been cutting all of Terrill’s left pant legs a half an inch short.”

“You’re what?” Terrill whips around to look at Darryl, who freezes, smiles, and dashes from the breakroom. Terrill jumps up and takes off after him. “No, really, Darryl, you haven’t been doing what?”

Sherry chuckles and breaks off a piece of the “cake”, popping it into her mouth.

“Oh my god,” she groans. She almost forgot what chocolate tasted like, dehydrated or otherwise.

She’s gonna marry that woman.

#

“Cake?” Vera snorts, arm cocked back, ready to chuck a grenade. “That’s ridiculous, where would I even get the ingredients for that?”

Before Sherry can answer, Vera launches the grenade. Sprinting forward and away from the blast radius, Sherry leaps and tackles Vera the ground with a thud that rattles her teeth.

“Nice try, sweet cheeks,” Sherry says, pinning Vera to the ground. “By the way, how’s your supply of ice-cream sandwiches doing?”

“I have—I have no—” Vera kicks out, catching Sherry in the stomach and throwing her up and away “—idea what you’re talking about!”

Sherry lands on her back several feet away, a puff of snow shooting up around her from the impact. She shakes her head to remove the snow that’s accumulated on her helmet. If all this shit melted and never came back, it would make Sherry’s year. Even if it flooded the bases. An underwater base actually sounds kind of cool.

“Why so secretive, Vera?” Sherry shouts after Vera, who’s started skipping away.

Vera freezes mid-skip, arms pinwheeling as she fights to maintain her footing. Back still turned, she stands up straight and takes a deep breath, composing herself. Crossing her arms, she casts a glance at Sherry over her shoulder.

“There’s nothing to be secretive about, Sherry,” she says, words tumbling out of her mouth like she can’t hold onto them. “Except for, like, Freelancer secrets and stuff, I guess. But I don’t have any other secrets. Zero. Nada. I couldn’t have sent you the cake thingy, because that would be… that would be fraternizing with the enemy! Yeah!”

Sherry is torn between annoyance and amusement at this point, because Project Freelancer literally dropped Vera, Iowa, and Idaho here, fully expecting them to die. On the other hand, it’s the game they’ve been playing for months, a charade. Pretending they’re in a conflict they were kicked out of long ago. Vera’s just playing along, and Sherry wants to take a timeout.

“Maybe it’s time to… fraternize, then,” Sherry suggests. “If you know what I mean.”

“I—you—we—” Vera sputters, arms falling to her sides. “It’s—”

“Get a room!” Idaho shouts from the entrance of the ex-Freelancers’ base.

“Oh! Fuck you, Ezra!” Vera shoots back. She charges towards Idaho who, realizing Vera’s destination is him and not the door to the base, yelps and takes off into the base (“It was a joke it was a joke it was a joooke!”).

Sherry sighs, letting her head drop back into the snow. She gets a sense of deja vu, then remembers she was in almost this exact same spot two days ago, on her back, staring off into the distance. Grinning, she imagines how red Vera must have gone. Redder than, say, roses?

“She totally wants to fraternize with me,” she confides in the sky.

#

The last item Sherry receives is a map.

Hand-drawn, covered in green glitter this time, directions and explanations scribbled here and there in red ink.

Sherry’s base is Your House, and there’s an ‘X’ next to it with the words Where you shot that jar of peanut butter written off to the side. There’s a lopsided square a few inches away from Sherry’s base, Best Base Ever scrawled inside, with another ‘X’ nearby. The message by this ‘X’ read Blown up jeep.

“Oh yeah,” Sherry whispers to herself, smiling as she recalls setting fire to the jeep. Blinking, she turns her attention back to the map.

There’s a wavy line leading from Sherry’s base, past Where Mike licked your wall, and out into the tundra. At the end of the line there’s an oval with the words Our Place written inside.

Sherry’s heart skyrockets into her throat and she drops the map, gasp morphing into a coughing fit as she chokes on a mouthful of glitter for the second time that week. Hands shaking, she stoops down and snatches up the map again, brushing off the excess glitter—some of it, anyway—to make sure she’s read that correctly.

Our Place.

Yep. She read that right. Sinking onto her bed, Sherry isn’t sure whether to start laughing and hug the map or start hyperventilating and burn it.

Is this for real? Is it real now, not another trick, just another level of their game? Sherry’s going to the spot on the map, of course, but as the anxiety in her chest builds, she pushes away the hope bubbling there as well. Just in case.

“All right, Vera,” Sherry says, folding the map up and tucking it away. “Let’s see where this leads.”

#

Vera’s map is very much not to scale.

It takes Sherry much longer than she expected to trudge through the snow towards Our Place.

Gazing out at the white wasteland before her, she’s beginning to think this was a trick after all, and looks around instead for Vera, waiting for her to pounce. Her eyes fall on something squat and black, half-buried in snow about fifty feet away.

Running as best she can in knee-deep snow, Sherry hurries over to inspect the object. As she gets closer, she sees the long barrel of a gun, barely hanging onto whatever it’s attached to. She slows a bit, but not by much. No one’s going to fire that gun anytime soon.

When she finally arrives, she discovers a tank. It must’ve been there for at least five years—Sherry’s never seen it before, but she’s never had a reason to venture in this direction. She got bored, of course, but not bored enough to tramp around in the snow almost a mile and a half away from base looking for old, dead, war machines.

Apparently, Vera is bored enough to tramp around in the snow a mile and a half away from base, looking for old, dead, war machines.

“You coming in or not?”

Sherry jumps, looks up at the top of the tank to find Vera, beautiful and blue, perched at the top of the tank. Vera gestures down at the hatch leading into the tank.

Realizing her mouth is hanging open, Sherry snaps it shut, thankful for the visor shielding her face.

“After you,” Sherry manages.

“Uh, yeah okay!” Vera lifts the hatch, and a warm, orange glow erupts from the entrance, lighting up her armor.

It’s the most magical thing Sherry has ever seen, and she almost trips over her own feet moving up to the tank. Climbing up, the side, she watches as Vera lowers herself into the tank, disappearing from view.

Sherry takes a deep breath. Swallows. And drops into the tank, pulling the lid shut behind her.

Her armor screams at her before her feet hit the floor.

Warning, dramatic temperature shift, adjusting armor climate. Warning, dramatic—

Sherry pulls her helmet off and is hit with a blessed blast of warm air. She closes her eyes. Soaks it in. Tries to remember the last time she felt so warm the chill left her bones.

She can’t.

“Where did you find this heater?” Sherry breathes, tossing her helmet aside.

The tank is big, but not extremely spacious, and she bangs her knees, toes, and elbows several times during the process of removing her armor. Vera’s having troubles too, so it takes her a few minutes to conjure up a response.

“Darryl, Ezra, and I found this old heater and fixed it up,” she explains. “It’s gotta be charged, so we can’t use it all the time, and since the tank doesn’t have a lot of space that needs heating up, it doesn’t use as much power.”

“Those fuckers,” Sherry laughs, “they were in on it the whole time.”

“Actually, Terrill wasn’t,” Vera says, unzipping her undersuit. “Darryl says he couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it.”

“Yeah…” Sherry trails off as Vera pulls her arms out of her undersuit. Her arms are very nice. Very strong, not nice, strong. Well, strong is nice—

Wow, it’s really hot in here.

Sherry shimmies out of her undersuit as well, and soon the two of them are sitting cross-legged, clad in sports bras and biker shorts, twiddling their thumbs. They’ve waited so fucking long to be alone together, to be out of armor together, and now they have no idea what to say.

“I sent the card,” Vera says finally. “And the cake.”

“I know, doofus,” Sherry snorts. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“Am not!” Vera lies, biting her bottom lip. She sighs and runs her hand through her hair. “Ugh, I’m a bad liar.”

“Not necessarily a bad thing,” Sherry hurries to say, leaning in towards Vera. “Honesty’s good!”

“I don’t know if it’s honesty as much as anxiety. I could never be a spy,” Vera says.

“Then why join Project Freelancer?” Sherry asks, tilting her head. Vera never struck her as the type—didn’t fit the image all the stories built up in her head.

“Well, I mean, to save my home planet!” Vera says. “Besides, not all of us did spy stuff.”

“Oh,” Sherry says. “Where’s your home planet?”

“Earth,” Vera answers. Her face lights up as the word leaves her lips, and Sherry wills her heart to calm the fuck down.

“Where at on Earth?” Sherry asks.

“Hawaii.”

“Holy shit,” Sherry says, raising her eyebrows. “This has got to be hell for you then.”

“Hell frozen over,” Vera agrees, grimacing.

“Well, hell isn’t so bad,” Sherry says. Vera raises an eyebrow and snorts.

“How so?”

“I mean, if it took going to hell to meet you, I’d go to hell a thousand times over,” Sherry tells her.

God, that was so fucking corny, she should take it back, apologize, crawl away and hide forever, she should—

“Sweet talker,” Vera giggles, interrupting Sherry’s near-panic attack.

Her laughter is fucking music.

Sherry leans in, and Vera grins, moving to meet her, brushing her thumb across Sherry’s jaw. Closing her eyes, Sherry shivers, moving her hand to rest on Vera’s, holding it to her face. If the tank is warm, Vera’s skin is red hot, burning into her yet sending chills down her spine.

Their lips meet and finally, finally, they kiss.

Sherry thinks this might be it—the center of the universe.

Is it cliché to say if hell is life with Vera, then it’s better than heaven?

Vera and Sherry break apart, breathing heavily, still clinging to each other. Vera grins, and Sherry catches it, smiling back.

“So,” Vera says.

“So,” Sherry replies.

“What do you say we, uh, fraternize?”

[queen-scribbles]

A Fine Line

For @pillarspromptsweekly 35: Od Nua. Turned into Ederity, and I’m not sorry at all :D

“Y’know, Tavi when you asked if I wanted to come visit you this time, this is not how I figured it would go,” Edér complained teasingly as he ducked under tattered spiderwebs.

“Wasn’t how I was plannin’ for it to go,” Tavi said with a laugh. “But tremors under my main fuckin’ keep can’t exactly be ignored, can they?”

“And us being here is just a happy coincidence?” Charity piped up, switching the torch she carried to her left hand so she could wipe clean a plaque mounted on the wall.

“Hey, I was only half serious when I suggested you comin’ with him would solidify the courtship cover story,” Tavi countered. She surveyed the rest of the crypt chamber they stood in with a careful eye. Two levels down and while they’d found plenty evidence of disturbance--fresh fallen debris, and the like--they hadn’t yet found a likely cause. “I’m honestly kinda surprised you both went for it.” She paused to shove aside a rock that was blocking the doorway they needed. “Happy as I am to see you.”

Charity chuckled. “Nice save.” She held the torch higher as she and Edér followed Tavi down the stairs. “What is this place, anyway?”

“I dunno,” Tavi admitted, tapping her fingers against the hilt of one sabre as they descended the staircase. “Some king thousands of years ago hollowed it all out. I don’t even know how deep it goes; I’ve only been down here once. Helpin’ Kana look for some fuckin’ important book.”

“Oh, yeah, the one the skeleton wizard had,” Edér chimed in. “I felt real bad for him after that.”

“Me, too. Right now I’m hopin’ that whatever’s behind the tremors and shit isn’t any deeper than that so we don’t have to clear out any more levels.”

“So if you’ve cleared everything out,” Charity began, “we’re armed as what, a precaution?”

“Pretty much,” Tavi swatted away cobwebs. “There was everything from xaurips and wurms to adra beetles and ogres in here before. They got in somehow, and if more followed them I wanna be prepared.” 

“Smart,” Charity agreed.

“What I lack in book smarts I make up in common sense,” Tavi joked.

Behind her, Edér coughed. “No comment.”

“Hey!” She wheeled to shoot him a dirty look, which he met with a grin as she almost missed a step. “I will fuckin’ leave you down here, Teylecg.”

He laughed. “But you won’t, ‘cause then you’d hafta explain to Dyrford what you did with their mayor. Winfrith ain’t gonna deputy forever, he was clear on that.”

“Dammit.” He had her there. “Fine. You’re safe.”

“Such a relief,” Edér deadpanned. “I was really worried.”

Tavi rolled her eyes but let him have the last word. She could hear Charity trying (and failing) to muffle how much she was laughing at them, and the occasional chuckle from Edér at how amused Charity was, as they made their way deeper into the Paths. So far, so good.

-o-

As she’d hoped, they didn’t encounter much of anything the first few levels they passed through, just spiders. Normal sized ones. Focused as she was on leading the way, Tavi still noticed how quiet her companions were being, and sent up a hasty prayer if wasn’t because something was wrong.

By the fifth level down, the amount of rubble they had to skirt or climb over increased dramatically. They’d only just started down the main hallway when one of the tremors shook the walls around them. The door slammed down prematurely, grazing the back of Edér’s shoulder.

He brushed off Tavi’s concern with a smile. “I’ll be fine, Tav. You know I’m tougher’n that, I hope.”

“I do.” She ran one hand through her hair and winked at him. “Just want t’ be sure you’re at your best ‘case we have to fight anything. Maybe let Charity look at it?”

The two of them shared a look. “I don’t think that’s necessary-” Edér started, in tandem with Charity’s “If he says he’s alright-”

Tavi raised an eyebrow. Something happened there, she mused, taking in the uneasy set of Edér’s posture and the faint blush coloring Charity’s face. Another tremor, stronger this time, reminded her where her priorities needed to be, and she reluctantly shelved her curiosity. “If you say so. Hopefully we’re gettin’ close, with how strong the tremors are.”

“Seems likely,” Edér nodded, seeming relieved at the change of subject.

There was a small cascade of dust from the ceiling that set all of them coughing. Tavi huffed dust out of her bangs and smiled to herself when Charity reached over to ruffle some free of Edér’s hair as well. So whatever had them blushing and awkward wasn’t bad, just, well, awkward. That was actually promising.

-o-

Six levels down they did have to fight some adra beetles that had crept back in, but they were small and underdeveloped and not much trouble. The biggest challenge was keeping them away from Charity; the beetles weren’t kith who might fall for insulting taunts, they just wanted rid of these intruding pests. Tavi and Edér both wound up physically placing themselves between one of the beetles and their priest. (If Edér did it more than she did, well, Tavi was just going to file that away with no comment.)

“I can take care of myself, y’know,” Charity commented, smashing the last beetle’s head with her mace. “Militia, remember?”

“Sorry,” Tavi laughed. “I know. My previous experience with priests usually involved them stayin’ out of the fray and offerin’ support.”

Charity slid a look at Edér. “And what’s your excuse?” she asked playfully.

Edér shrugged and tweaked the end of her ponytail. “Not used to fightin’  ‘longside a priest, am used to protectin’ people, wanted t’ keep you safe, take your pick.”

Charity grinned. “Wanted to keep me safe, huh?”

He grinned right back. “I make a lousy mayor if I can’t protect my people.”

“You two remember I’m in on the whole fake courtship thing, right?” Tavi piped up with a smirk as she wiped ichor off her armor. “You don’t hafta pretend you’re a couple around me, I know the truth.”

Both of them started, coughed sheepishly, and quickly turned their attention anywhere but each other. Edér was actually blushing, which only made Tavi smirk more as she kicked aside a beetle corpse and started walking toward the next staircase down.

-o-

There was no conversation as they made their way down the stairs. Due to both the perpetual cloud of dust in the air, and Edér and Charity’s not wanting to give her the wrong idea, Tavi was pretty sure. She wasn’t, however, sure it was the wrong idea. She bit her lip to hold bck a smile. Gods, all she’d had to do was suggest the fake courtship and give them the tiniest fucking nudge towards each other. They were doing all the work. The next tremor rumbled in the ground beneath her feet, deep as a war drum, and Tavi would have sworn she could feel it in her chest.

They’d barely reached the bottom of the stairs when they were set upon by a pair of rain blights. Big ones.

I’ve always hated fighting these things, Tavi grumbled to herself, swearing up a blue streak as the three of them teamed up on first one blight, then the other.  “Guess we shoulda turned off the forges, huh?”

“Toldja,” Edér chuckled, raking wet hair out of his eyes. “Too bad Kana ain’t here, he owes me a couple fennings.”

“We get this sorted out with minimal damage or injury, I”ll pay for him,” Tavi snarked.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said, turning and raising his shield as a wind blight appeared around the corner. Tavi wheeled so she could stand next to him, and could hear Charity quietly murmuring a prayer off to her right. This blight was smaller than the last two, but something about it felt off to her. A few seconds later, when it reached them, she got her reason why.

Rather than lash out with one of the attacks typical of its kind, the wind blight shot out a jet of flame that splashed off Edér’s shield.

“What the fuck,” Tavi muttered fervently as she dodged forward and around to flank it. A soft but steady glow of conviction settled in her gut, and she flashed Charity a brief, grateful smile as she swung her sabres at the blight’s central mass.

It dissipated with a high-pitched screech that she might have imagined. “Alright, how many fuckin’ souls are trapped down here for the forges to still be going?” she demanded, sheathing her sabres.

“Maybe it’s not how many, but how trapped they are,” Charity said. “If they can’t get away from this floor and it was designed to make blights, maybe the same souls are getting used over and over again.”

“What, the pull of the forge is stronger than the pull of the Wheel?” Tavi winced as she considered it. “Scary thought. So we should shut off all the forges before we kill the blights?”

“Can’t hurt to do it that way,” Charity shrugged. “Worst case it’ll mean there’s no more of that kind coming. Do you know how to turn them off?”

Tavi and Edér both shook their heads. “Why do you think I left ‘em runnin’ last time?” Tavi said sheepishly.

“Well, I’m sure between the three of us we can figure it out.” Charity nodded toward the nearest doorway, a faint green light spilling into the hallway from within.

“Hopefully,” Tavi said with a grunt, and led the way into the room. She was still pretty well baffled by how the fucking thing worked, but it wasn’t like she’d examined them all that closely last time she was down here. Just stuck her head in, didn’t see a clear on/off lever, and decided not to bother. Now she sort of wished she had. This was going to be a pain in the ass.

With a crackling rumble, another tremble shook the ground, definitely sounding and feeling like it originated on this level. Tavi filed that observation away for later, as the trio of huge earth blights waiting in the forge room were a more immediate concern. It was lucky they had Charity with them; while blades didn’t do much against the earth blights, her mace had much better luck. It took some time, but they did clear the room.

“Alright, let’s see what we’re workin’ with here,” Charity murmured, stepping close enough to examine the forge design. In place of the lever Tavi had (sort of) checked for last time, there was a carven pedestal with a pyramid-shaped indentation in the top. “Looks like you have to put some sort of talisman or prism in there to get it to work,” she mused.

“Oh!” Tavi looked at the indentation, shared a glance with Edér, and then bolted down the hallway heading for Gabrannos’ study. “I know where that is!”

“And you left it there?” Charity said incredulously as she and Edér hurried to keep up.

“It didn’t look useful or valuable, an’ we were already carryin’ too much- Shit!”

Hovering in the hall between her and her goal waited an enormous wind blight. Like the smaller earlier that had attacked Edér, small bursts of flame shot out randomly from its depths.

“What the fuck is going on?!” Tavi growled, barely waiting  for the other two to catch up before flinging herself at the blight.

This fight went badly. Whether due to its size or something else, the blight was even tougher than most, and with its extra abilities, that added up to doing a lot more damage before they took it down. In the end, Edér retrieved the prism Tavi had been after while Charity did what she could for the minor burns Tavi sustained thanks to being just a hair too slow. It had dredged up some none-too-pleasant memories in the process, and Tavi spent the time fighting the beginnings of a flashback. Said memories were far enough in the past (and she had enough practice) that she did manage, but it still had rattled her.

They returned to the earth blight forge without incident, and Tavi stuck the prism in the pedestal. After one final flare of light, the forge went dark. The blight that had been forming dissipated when only half done.

“Now we just gotta find the rest of those prism,” Tavi said, flexing her fingers.

“Like this one?” Edér asked as he stood from examining a small chest against the wall. In his hand rested a very similar prism, just deep grey instead of rich gren.

“Exactly like that.” Tavi took it from him, careful of her injuries. “Let’s see, there’s earth, wind, flame, and rain blights. This one’s probably-”

“Wind,” Edér interrupted, gesturing at the prism. “It’s got the symbol etched on the bottom.”

“I was fucking getting there,” Tavi grumbled.

“Now you don’t have to,” he said as he stood.

She rolled her eyes and led the way out of the forge room. “Now we just need to find that forge...”

No sooner had the words left her mouth than there was a flash of dull light from ahead and to the right.

“We could start there,” Charity said, voice rife with amusement.

‘There’ proved to be a hole in the wall to the eind blight forge room on the side facing the flame blight forge doorway. Edér hung back at the mouth of the hall to stand guard as Tavi and Charity approached the gap. The air smelled like lightning, the tang of it getting stronger  as they moved closer.

“Wonder what did this,” Charity mused, eyeing the folk-sized hole.

Tavi was about to answer when she felt a low hum in her back teeth. A quick glance confirmed that both the flame and wind blight forges were ramping up, the facing apertures crackling with energy. She didn’t need her gut to tell her this wasn’t going to end well.

“Move!” she hollered instead, all but tackling Charity out of the way as the energy from the two rooms arced to join in a painfully bright beam. It was a close enough call Tavi felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle. The two of them hit the ground and tumbled through a sagging stone doorway, just before it collapsed from the ferocity of the tremor that followed.

Tavi sat up, coughing and waving away dust. “You alright, Charity?”

“Yeah,” Charity groaned. She sat up as well, feeling a small cut on her forehead with careful fingers. “Thanks to you. Good instincts.”

Tavi nodded, just as muffled pounding against the fallen rocks reached them.

“Tavi? Charity?” Edér’s voice was similarly muffled. “If you ain’t dead give me a holler.” Both of them hollered accordingly. “Well, that’s good,” he said, relief clear. “If you ain’t hurt bad we can probably have ya outta there pretty quick.”

Tavi had her doubts--the collapsed wall looked to have settled pretty soundly--but kept it to herself until proven correct. “You’re prob’ly gonna need a prybar.” 

“Where’m I gonna find one of them?”

“Back up in the the armory, ‘less you happened to bring one with you,” Tavi replied, glancing at Charity, who shook her head. She couldn’t blame Edér for sounding irritated; she wasn’t happy with this turn of events either. 

There was a moment’s silence, then, “...Fine. Be back quick as I can.”

“I feel like we should at least see if we can find a way out while we’re waitin’ for him,” Charity commented after a few seconds. “He’ll get us out if he has to tear the wall apart with his bare hands to do it. But if we can keep it from going that far...”

“Sure, sure, good point,” Tavi agreed. “I mean, if one spot on the wall was weak enough to break, why not more?”

“Exactly.” Charity kicked a pebble, watched it ricochet off one of the support pillars.

“Least now we know where those fuckin’ combination blights came from,” Tavi said. She wasn’t keen on the idea of letting silence fall.

“And the tremors,” Charity pointed out as she tested one of the walls. “They came from the sheer force of two forges working together to make a blight.” 

“But it didn’t make a blight.” The fact dawned on Tavi in the same moment she said it. “Does it not always make blights? If it had this time we would heard Edér fightin’ it ‘fore he checked on us.” She hesitated briefly before deciding the segue was as good as any. “How’s it goin’ for you two, anyway? Y’know, with the fake courtship.”

Charity fumbled the small chest she’d picked up, almost dropping the blue glass prism from inside it. “Fine. We’re... fine. Look what I found.” She held up the prism.

Tavi nodded, then raised an eyebrow. “And you don’t expect me to pry after that?  I won’t breathe a word to anyone. Including Edér.”

“It’s... getting complicated,” Charity admitted. Her fingers played with her necklace and her eyes roamed the wall rather than meet Tavi’s. “With us being friends... there’s a real fine line between pretend courting and real couritng an’ I think maybe we’re... losin’ sight of it.”

“How come?” Hylea save her, Tavi tried to hide her eagerness as she asked. Wasn’t sure she did a good job.

“Just... little things,” Charity hedged, sliding down the wall to a seated position and playing with the blue glass prism. “We spend a lot of time together; more than we strictly need to. I picked up knitting as a hobby this winter, so I wouldn’t go stir crazy, and everything I’ve made so far wound up bein’ for him. Scarf, hat, hand warmers... And he wore them, Tavi. In public. I’m still a novice, so they weren’t exactly pretty and he wore them.” She paused, cleared her throat (somehow missed the grin Tavi was fighting). “Remember how you told me when his birthday is? I, um... my neighbors’ dog had puppies and I gave Edér one.”

Tavi stopped fighting the grin. “Sounds like a good present for him.”

“He...” Charity hesitated, face flaming to match her hair. “He kissed me.”

Tavi nearly swallowed her tongue. Fuck. Yes.

“And not one of those forehead or cheek kisses we’d been doin’ to help with the courtship facade, an actual honest to Eothas kiss. O-Only for a second, and he apologized for doing it, but the thing is...” She bit her lip. “He didn’t need to. Apologize, I mean. I-I didn’t mind it.”

“What do you think that means?” Tavi asked, trying desperately to keep her voice neutral.

“I don’t know,” Charity admitted after a hefty pause. “We’ve been... a little bit off since, which I”m sure you noticed. We need to talk about it, but I have no fucking clue what I would say.”

“Well,” Tavi began, only to be cut off by the scrape of metal against rock from the cave in.

“Found one!” Edér’s voice filtered through the stone. “Next floor up, in one of the crates we didn’t clean out first time through.”

“Great,” Tavi called back, even if her internal monologue was more Dammit than gratitude.

With the help of the prybar, Edér had made a big enough hole for them to crawl through in just a few minutes. He helped Charity and Tavi through, winced a little and rolled his shoulder, but brushed off Tavi’s renewed concern. “It’ll be fine.”

It was. And the rest of the forges were shut down without incident or shenanigans beyond the few extra minutes it took to find the flame prism-key. Sure there were still blights to fight, but the rain ones were far fewer in number than the others. Probably due to that forge being set away from the others and thus catching fewer souls.

Much to Tavi’s relief, after they shut down the wind blight forge, thus ending its ability to team up with the flame blight one, there were no more tremors. They wouldn’t have to go deeper. With her and Edér both hurt--if only a little--and all three of them exhausted, that was a very good thing.

After confirming all the forges were shut down and blights destroyed, the souls  trapped in them hopefully returned to the Wheel, they made their way back to the surface. It took awhile; even directly and at full energy the stairs took over an hour to climb. Tired as they were, they stopped to rest several times, pushing their travel closer to two and a half.

“Charity, if I could steal you for a minute to take care of my arm proper?” Tavi hinted as they stumbled their way into Brighthollow. “Just real quick b’fore we all collapse from fuckin’ exhaustion?”

Charity nodded, taking the hint--”Sure”--and the two of them retreated to Tavi’s room as Edér headed for his former quarters, mumbling something about sleeping til his feet weren’t sore any more.

“Getting back to our topic from earlier,” Tavi began, sitting down and extending her singed arm for Charity to properly patch up. “I do think you should talk to him. Even if you aren’t completely sure of everything you want to say. If you know the basics, that’s enough for a start.”

“And if I’m not sure of even the basics?” Charity asked wryly, unwinding the old bandages.

“Figure those out first,” Tavi conceded. “I don’t want either of you gettin’ hurt.”

“That might be inevitable,” Charity muttered as she reached for soothing salve and new bandages, so quietly Tavi decided not to pursue it, before adding, “I do appreciate how much you care, and the advice you’re willing to offer, but I just don’t know-”

“Charity, lemme give you some advice,” Tavi cut her off, having an idea where she was going. “Speakin’ from experience here, there’s another fine line you need to worry about, aside form the one between real and pretend courtship. That’s the one between reasonable caution and cowardice. Shit, it took months and several times almost fuckin’ dying for me to tell Aloth how I felt about him. If you think you’re really fallin’ for Edér, fuckin’ tell him. If you aren’t and the courtship thing is getting awkward for you, tell him that, too. All the time I’ve known him, I think the only thing he appreciates more than honesty is animals.” She flinched slightly as Charity tied off the new bandages. “Just my two pands.”

Charity nodded tiredly. “I’ll keep that in mind. Right now, I need sleep before I make any kind of big decision.”

“That’s fair,” Tavi said. “Shit, you don’t hafta do anything til you two are back in Dyrford. Just think about it.” 

“I will,” Charity promised. She stood, collected the used supplies, and left the room.

Tavi barely managed to stay awake long enough to shuck her armor and send up a brief prayer her friends would stop being idiots before flopping in bed and falling asleep.

[hyperbolicpurple]

Jonsa prompt: "one more and that's it"

Sorry, anon, you were probably looking for, IDK, orgasms, but please instead have some soulmate AU angst (of the type where soulmates share dreams, unless you’re Jon, who took the night shift specifically to avoid his soulmate):

One more hour, Jon tells himself. One more and that’s it. The problem is, there’s nothing conducive to staying awake about desk work late at night. Or rather early in the morning. If he worked first or second shift, then he could go on patrol, interview people, do something interesting. Something active. Sometimes that does happen in the third shift, but not always, and not tonight. Tonight has been one hundred percent paperwork and boredom. People are always surprised when Jon tells them how much policework is just paperwork.

“Time for trash can basketball,” Pyp announces, slapping Jon on the back. “Unless you want to take a nap?” he adds, eyeing Jon.

Jon shakes his head adamantly. No napping. He’s made that mistake before. Even just a few minutes of overlap is a few too many. He rubs his hands together, mimes enthusiasm. “You just want me to take a nap because then you won’t have any real competition.”

Pyp whoops and everyone gathers around the trash can in shuffles of varying awake-ness. It’s a familiar game: they all take turns tossing crumpled paper balls into the can from increasing distances. If you miss, you lose and you’re out.

It’s a dumb game, but Jon likes the third shift guys he works with. Most are rookies stuck with the night shift until they work their way up. They’ll be glad to get out of here, to get back to a normal sleeping schedule and back to dreaming with their soulmates. Captain Mormont is always bugging Jon about moving up, getting off the career-killing graveyard shift, but Jon dug in his heels years ago: he works nights or he quits. Others are more like Jon. Cotter Pyke hates his soulmate’s guts and never wants to dream with them. Uncle Benjen, who led the night shift when Jon started at the station, didn’t have a soulmate at all. Neither did Ygritte, which had been at least part of what attracted Jon to her: that she did her own thing, was beholden to no one. That’s what Jon says, too, when people ask. They always do, especially when they learn he works at night and offer their sympathies. That must be so difficult. How lonely. You poor thing.

But Jon knows otherwise. What’s actually difficult is when he fucks up and nods off at his desk, and he’s catapulted into her dreams. Even catching a glimpse of her makes him see red–ha, ha. His body has learned to jerk awake at the first sign of her dark auburn hair. It was especially hard when she was in college and went to the occasional party, staying up late and sleeping in late enough to catch up with him. Sometimes she was still drunk enough that she tried to explain–as if he hadn’t understood her disappointment in him for exactly what it was–but in a drunk, self-absorbed, rambling way that made it clear nothing about her had really changed. He spent many of those Saturdays perpetually exhausted from trying to avoid her. Recently, too.

Grenn wins trash can basketball, like he always does–it’s his reach, Pyp claims, every single time, and argues they should institute a special penalty for him and giants like him–and by the time Jon looks at a clock again, it’s almost time to go. He and Sam organize everything to hand off to the day shift and head out together, Jon tugging down his sunglasses as they step outside.

“You’ve been more tired than usual lately,” Sam observes.

Sam’s the only one who knows about his soulmate and why he avoids her, so Jon admits the truth. “She’s started taking naps in the afternoon. It’s messing with me.”

“Maybe she wants to talk to you.”

Jon gives a short laugh. “About what? Everything’s been said.” There’s been some mistake. It can’t be you. It just can’t.

Sam gives a shrug, not committing to Jon’s interpretation of events. It’s annoying, but also very Sam in a way that makes Jon fond. Sam’s a nice guy. Nicer than him, for sure. Good at keeping an open mind, and unwilling to judge strangers on the words of friends. Jon respects that. In a weird way, he thinks that might be the reason he told Sam in the first place. As much as the memory of their first dream together makes him grind his teeth, Jon isn’t interested in a bunch of people who don’t know her, even his friends, bagging on her. Even if they would say all the things he’s thought in the past (what a bitch).

“There are people who think there aren’t any pre-existing connections between soulmates at all,” Sam offers.

Jon frowns. “How would that work?”

“They suggest that who we dream with may just be random–that people make connections based on the dreams, not because of fate or the gods or any other outside force.”

“That’s unexpectedly nihilistic of you. Don’t let Gilly hear you say that.” Jon laughs.

“I didn’t say I agreed with it,” counters Sam. “But–I don’t think it’s nihilistic at all. It’s all about what we make of it, isn’t it? We already know having a soulmate doesn’t predestine you for a life full of happiness and perfection. Case in point.” He gestures toward Jon, though he looks a little apologetic as he does.

“Hey, now,” Jon protests. “My life is just fine, thanks.”

Sam’s look is skeptical, but he doesn’t push on that front. “I’m only saying, maybe you should resolve whatever it is between you. Maybe you’re not going to get married and have five kids and live happily ever after–lots of soulmates don’t, you know, they’re best friends or mortal enemies or just someone who changes your life–but if you’re nothing to each other, that’s on you too.”

“That was her choice.”

“Yours too. You sort of let her make it, didn’t you? And you’ve avoided every opportunity to change it.”

Jon scowls. “That’s assuming she does want to talk to me at all, remember? Maybe she just really likes naps.”

“Naps are wonderful,” Sam allows, letting the subject go. “Gilly takes them in the afternoon with the baby, while I’m asleep too. It’s nice.”

“Well, go on then, enjoy your perfect life.” Jon waves Sam up to his apartment building, and smiles to take the sting out. “You deserve it.”

Sam’s words stick with Jon on his way home, churning. Four bus stops take Jon to his place, and to blissful, uninterrupted, dreamless sleep.

“She’s been here for a while. Only wanted to speak to you,” Pyp explains as Jon comes in the next day, bleary-eyed with his red-eye coffee.

“They didn’t call me?”

“She said she was happy to wait. Wouldn’t talk to anyone else.” Pyp shrugs. “Get this, though, she’s a total babe. I didn’t know you knew any babes, Snow.”

Jon tries to think of who it could be, and fails. “What’s her name?”

“Wouldn’t tell us. Weird, right? But we patted her down. She doesn’t have anything to kill you with, we’re pretty sure.”

It is pretty weird, he has to admit. Until he rounds the corner into the bullpen and sees her sitting by his desk and understands exactly why she didn’t tell anyone her name. The coffee slips from his hand and spatters on the floor as Jon, only dimly aware, sees a face he hasn’t seen in ten years but in the occasional dream.

She looks less surprised to see him. “Hi, Jon.” Sansa gives him a small, sad smile. “I need your help with something.”

[part 2]

[coffeecupandteatime]

Obscure Review #4

It’s time to spork fics and ruin lives.

I’m Coffee.

Hi, this is Tea. So what fresh hell have we placed ourselves into today Coffee?

Instead of Titans, we have ninjas, but there doesn’t seem to by an OC this time. So that’s a start.

We have entered a world of perpetual retardation. I’m the local alcoholic asshole, Jagerbomb  ʕಠᴥಠʔ

This lovely little story is called When wind meets earth: A Naruto & Kurotsuchi story.

I’ll kick this off shitfest! Also: Prepare the rum!

As usual, we will be offensive. Don’t take this too personally.

Chapter 1: Moving to Konoha

Ooooooooh no.

This looks promising.

And I thought Struggle for Trost: The two monsters was a bad chapter title. This one’s just lazy.

Hey guys, it's Rice Man here with another Naruto fic to accompany the two I already have. This time it's a Naruto and Kurotsuchi pairing. I've grown quite fond of this pairing ever since I read a really good fic called 'Love your enemy' from a really talented author. Now my fic is not copying them in anyway

That doesn’t sound suspicious…

Nope, not at all.

ʕงಠᴥಠʔง I’ll fight the Author.

since it will feature an original plot and start off when the two of them are young then go on to Shippuden and will not be a Romeo & Juliet type of story. So sit back and enjoy this story!

Aw man, I was hoping for a tragedy. It would make this a thousand times more interesting.

Don’t tell me to relax. You’re only making me more nervous.

I’LL RELAX WHEN I GET MY VODKA! YOU RELAX!ʕ╯°ᴥ°ʔ╯︵ ┻━┻

Lastly, the cover image for this fic is the property of DeviantArt user indy-riquez.

+1 for giving credit where credit is due.

I get the feeling this  story is based around an obscure pairing that is either not very popular or you’re the only one who thinks they should be together.

I get the feeling of “I don’t like Hinata or Sakura so I’mma make a near impossible pairing” here.

Episode one: Moving to Konoha

Oh god… We have episodes instead of chapters.

Wait. Didn’t you already mention the chapter?

This is lazy writing on so many levels.

-Iwagakure no Sato, Tsuchikage's office- It is around 7 in the evening in the office of the most powerful ninja in Iwagakure.

So this office has it’s own timezone? Cool!

Don’t you know? The offices of the most powerful ninja have their own timezones.

Iwa’s the place with rocks right? I wanna make rock puns.

Don’t, there will be plenty of puns to make later.

We see a short old man sitting behind a desk with a man beside him about early thirties holding a packet in hand.

I don’t see anybody.

Excellent descriptions.

The name of this man is Kitsuchi, one of the most respected Jonin within the village and the old man was Onoki, the third Tsuchikage. They are seen talking to a young girl who appears to be around 10 years of age. This girl was Kurotsuchi, the granddaughter of Onoki and Kitsuchi's daughter. 

Truth be told, I never got very far in Naruto. None of these names mean anything to me. I don’t care if you are writing a fanfiction. At least give me a better idea of who these people are. As an author, that is your job.

I didn’t get very far in Shippuden, but I did read a good majority of the manga so I kinda know what’s going on from what I can remember. 

Jagerbomb is not pleased. ʕ╯°ᴥ°ʔ╯︵ ┻━┻ I haven’t seen Naruto in a long time.

''Gramps you can't be serious!? Why are you sending me to Konoha?!'' The girl asked in anger

Trust me hon, we’re not exactly thrilled either.

Asked in anger. Asked in anger. AskED IN ANGER. REALLY?

We have another Katherine, so great at emotion.

Guys, I just realized that the guy doesn’t use quotation marks. Those are two apostrophes right next to each other...

''Kurotsuchi, it's for your own good dear, I'm not going to let the grudges our village and Konoha have go on any longer. It's unhealthy for us and sending you there would actually benefit the already strained relationship we have with them. So (COMMA) you can either accept to be part of the Shinobi Exchange Between Villages or you can kiss your dream of being a kunoichi good-bye. And just so you know, some of our civilians who needed work that have went as part of this on the employment side have sent back letters showing that they are enjoying life in Konoha.'' 

That’s a big wall of dialogue. So tell me, are they just sitting there, unmoving save for some mouth flaps?

I’m sorry, WHAT? In the manga or anywhere, it does not mention any ninja exchange program or Shinobi moving into the village,  much less citizens.  

I thought Iwa and Konoha HATED each other. O,,,,o Zoidberg is confused.

The young girl just groaned in pure frustration,

Ah, yes. Much emotion. Very good.

A+ writing skills.

Is this how you emote?  ʕ╯°ᴥ°ʔ╯FUCK IT!

''Those villagers must be out of their minds, fuck Konoha and their shinobi exchange crap! I can't forgive them for killing mom! You know you still hate them for that dad don't deny it!''

We got a ten-year-old saying ‘fuck’! Call the police! 

Also: Protagonist’s mother was killed by future home that she learns to love.

“Hey kid! Guess what? We’re sending you to that one village you hate so much! Never mind the fact that they were responsible for the death of your mother!”

Yep, because who needs consistency?

Kitsuchi just sighed at his daughter, ''Yes, I can't deny that Kurotsuchi, but you must remember that sending you there will greatly benefit us and our strained relationship with Konoha. What if another war breaks out again? We've barely recovered from the last one. Look at Konoha also, those guys have recovered very well in a short amount of time and don't worry daughter, the Yellow Flash sacrificed himself to protect the village from the Kyuubi attack 10 years ago so you don't have to live in the same village with him at least right?''

ARE THEY JUST A BUNCH OF FLOATING HEADS OR SOMETHING?

“I AM ZORDON! YOU ARE THE POWER RANGERS!”

''Tch, well you do have a point dad but still! I don't want to live in a village full of idiots and trash!'' Kurotsuchi pouted looking the other way

“Okay Dad...I’ll go to the stupid village of stupid people just because their stupid leader is dead!”

“You must go for political motives that really don’t make any sense. THOU MUST!” 

Seriously? You’re calling them idiots and trash? Right now you’re making an idiot out of yourself. 

Especially if this is the village with the ‘GOD OF SHINOBI/PROFESSOR’ leading it.

But seriously, I get where the author is going. It was commonplace in feudal era Japan for lords to send their kids to live under and serve another lord as a sign of trust. HOWEVER, the relations between the villages were not established other than they hate each others’ guts. Nowhere does it mention the benefits of the two villages allying. It mentions benefits, but leaves it at that. No further explanations. No specific reason, which might as well be no reason. They are literally asking their kids to enter enemy territory for no reason. Now, I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t frivolously send my kids to a place I couldn’t trust. I completely agree with our whiny main character! This is ridiculous!

Onoki was about to lose his cool but decided not to vent it out on his beloved granddaughter (COMMA) but she could be such a pain in his ass sometimes. ''Kurotsuchi, you're living in Konoha as part of this exchange and in your place the Third Hokage's grandson will be living here.-

“I’m pretty sure that’s how it works anyway. It’s not like we established any trust and I don’t think the Hokage is going to be pleased sending his grandson here. Wait a minute, why am I referring to him as the Hokage? He’s not our leader, is he?”

He wouldn’t send his grandson, he is only a little kid if this is starting when I think it is.

Also: I’m pretty sure Konohamaru isn’t born yet considering he’s a lot younger than Naruto (Who's in his 40’s at the end of the the manga and anime, right?)

No, Konohamaru is born, he’s like 8 or something, this is taking place in the beginning of the series.

Either way, he’d be too young for this kind of travel to be sent to a village that HATES his.

- That is why this is beneficial to fixing our strained relationship. So you're leaving first thing in the morning young lady and that's final!''

Instead of being a good grandfather, he decides to force his grandchild to go to a completely different village.

“Go, dammit! I don’t want you hanging around here anyway! We may or may not trust Konoha village! So what if this endangers you!”

Basically sums his words up.

The 10-year(HYPHEN)old girl almost lost it when she heard that.

Almost lost what?

I lost my case of ale last week if that counts.

Almost lost her obviously prejudiced and non existent brain? Did it melt out of her ears?

She had a brain?

''No no no! I'm staying here and becoming a kunoichi of Iwa! Not Konoha!''

 “I swear you’re just looking for an excuse to kick me out of the house and go on some ridiculous adventure with my sworn enemy!”

“For the plot, child, to please the Author.” I’m not please so ʕ╯°ᴥ°ʔ╯FUCK IT!

This is a very ill conceived plot to try and make you seem cool.

''Gah! You little whipper snapper! You're going to do this exchange whether you like it or not!'' Onoki shouted as his head comically increases in size scaring the young girl

“SURPRISE YOU LITTLE SHIT! DIDN'T SEE THAT COMING, DID YOU!”

Only Iruka can do that dammit! THAT’S LIKE HIS MOST ICONIC “JUTSU”!

Really? Just because it’s an anime thing doesn’t mean you've got to use it, not to mention this is kinda badly written.

It just looks dumb in writing.

The force of his screams shook the whole room and was loud enough to scare Kurotsuchi causing her to fall on her butt shaking in fear. ''F-fine! I'll do it, but I won't like it!"

We should have a cliche count at the end our reviews to be honest. Protagonist agrees to doing some she doesn’t like: +1 cliche point.

You don't have to like it dear, just deal with it. Who knows? You may like it later on.'' Onoki said with a smile, ''Kitsuchi, please hand her papers please.''

“If you couldn’t tell, I’m the wise old character who implies the future and foreshadows the most obvious events to come!”

I don’t like that they tried to put a political agenda into this. It just seems half-assed and said political plot device just seems like something that is obviously a means to replace the main cannon with a side character and will never get mentioned ever again.

What makes you think she’ll like it after she oh so expressively pointed out her distaste for leaving.

Complying (COMMA) Kitsuchi walks over to Kurotsuchi and hands her a folder containing her files that she was going to submit to Iwa's ninja academy. ''You and Chihiro give this to the Hokage when you get there. He'll know right away.''

Author’s thoughts on actual plot.

Grabbing her enrollment papers Kurotsuchi proceeded to look at it. Her name was written in the middle of the folder and contained her papers for her to enroll at Konoha's ninja academy. Looking at Onoki she asked, ''So am I going as an Iwa or Konoha academy student?”

Wait, hold up. You’re trusting the ten-year-old with the IMPORTANT paperwork?

Well seeing as you’re the granddaughter of the fucking leader of your village, I’m surprised he didn’t train you. What’s stopping her from tearing those up?

''Anyway you see fit dear. You could be an Iwa kunoichi living in Konoha and registered in their system but most likely you'll be wearing their headband.''

“Because reasons.”

Awful reasons.

''Ugh, just what I need, living there is punishment enough but wearing their headband is just gross.'' Kurotsuchi groaned

“I mean, it’s the same headband, but I can’t stand it because it’s ~Konoha~”

“Fucking tree huggers man.”

My, somebody just loves to bitch don’t they?

''At least you're a kunoichi regardless.'' Kitsuchi spoke up, ''When you graduate we will send you the Iwa shinobi outfit if you want or you can wear theirs.''

“At that point in the story, you’ll probably prefer Konoha anyway in some major character changing fashion.”

At this point you and Naruto have probably pulled and AngelXEmily.

Kurotsuchi just sighed in defeat.

SIIIIIIIISODEFEATEDIIIIIIIIIGH

SIIIIIIIEMOTIONSAREHARDIIIIIIIIGH

Suck it up buttercup.

''So when do I go there again?'' She asked

“Right now! In fact, I’m going to throw you out the window as a shortcut!”

Again as in you’ve been there before or asking for the time you leave?

''You leave tomorrow morning dear, you will be brought there by my assistant Chihiro. After you've met with the Hokage you're on your own pretty much.'' Onoki explained

“Bye, loser.”

Chichiro sounds like the best person.

Assistant Chihiro is best character.

Into the lion’s den we go. 

''Yes, you should go get rest Kurotsuchi because you leave first thing in the morning.'' Kitsuchi added

They are really pushing her to leave.

Didn’t they say she was leaving in the morning not even two sentences ago?

Nodding with a sigh Kurotsuchi left to get some rest. ''Kurotsuchi wait.'' Onoki said getting the girl's attention ''What is it now gramps?'' ''Who knows? You might also meet a guy you'll like there.'' The Tsuchikage teased with a perverted grin

“Ohohoho! I like to think of my granddaughter meeting a nice boy but then have a perverted thought!”

“OHOHOHOHO-TOTALLYNOTFORESHADOWINGORANYTHING-OHOHOHOHO!”

Kurotsuchi blushed and quickly left the room much to the amusement of the two older men. Now alone in the room the two men began talking.

“Dammit grandpa, I can find a boyfriend by myself!”

“Oh no, my grandfather just basically told me to find a boy to fuck!”

''So you think this will really benefit us?-

“Fuck no!”

HAHHAHAHAH I SMELL A SUB-PLOT!

-I mean we do have the Hokage's grandson coming here as part of the exchange.'' Kitsuchi asked the elderly man

“What do we do with the grandson of our enemy?”

“KILL HIM”

Also, I get this is your father, but if you’re still in the office, talking about important village stuff, where the hell are the formalities? 

''I'm sure, it's Hiruzen now so it should make the whole process of this exchange a whole lot easier and without me probably trying to attack the Yellow Flash in the face for what he did to us in the third war. And when you think about it Kumo, Suna and Kiri have been friendly with Konoha ever since they sent some of their shinobi there for the program.''

Hey! Quit dropping the exposition all over the place! Someone has to clean that up, and it’s not going to be me!

Yea, us. ʕʘᴥʘ✿ʔ

''If you say so Lord Tsuchikage. That traitorous bastard Deidara bombing us several weeks ago puts us in an even worse position.''

NAME DROP!

MORE SUB-PLOT!

''You are right, it's also best for her safety as well.'' Onoki said

“We’re sending her right into enemy territory! She’ll be perfectly safe!”

“Cos sending an Iwa nin to the village that is STILL RECOVERING FROM THE KYUUBI IS FUCKING A GOOD IDEA!”

Your plan makes no sense...at all.

-Konoha Main Gate, next morning-

*Eyetwitch* Those transitions… My favorite…

Yay awful transitions!

As the sun rises across Konohagakure (COMMA) two Chunin guarding the main gate awake from their unauthorized slumber. These two are Izumo Kamizuki and Kotetsu Hagane and they've been on guard duty for twenty days straight.

I mean, this IS their actual JOB!

They would be dead if they were on guard shift for twenty  days straight, you will die from lack of sleep.

Nah, s’okay. They’re ninja.

''Ugh, Izumo wake up it's morning and time to begin another boring day as gate guards...'' Kotetsu groaned as he stretches himself

“This is how a casual conversation sounds. Wouldn’t you agree my fellow companion guard?”

“Undoubtedly, good sir!”

Nobody talks like this.

He reaches over and places a hand on Izumo's shoulder prodding the man awake. ''Yo, fucking let me sleep will you?'' Izumo grumbled

Are you the tsun to his dere?

Being rude upon being woken: +1 cliche point.

''Sure, then let Lord Hokage catch you and you'd be demoted to a Genin.'' Kotetsu shot back

One of the many responsibilities of the Hokage is to check on grunts like you.

Because the Hokage has the time to come and check on you idiots everyday. Also: Threat of boss demoting someone: +1 cliche point again! YAY Five more are you get a prize from the lower shelf!

You really have no idea what cliches are.

Nope! I just like giving points!

Right now we’ve got the tsundere, angst ridden teenager who whines about EVERYTHING cliche going on.

+5 Cliche points!

This served to wake Izumo almost instantly and the man quickly grabs his hygiene kit and began brushing his teeth, combing his hair and washing his face with a sink he made appear from God knows where.

Can’t be bothered to explain.

“Sorry I have lazy writing.”

This whole lack of explaining in some places and pretty much having dialogue that’s like watching paint dry in others, is making this fanfic to be like a raw, dead catfish. Cold, slimy and uninteresting.

''What the hell? Where'd that sink come from?!'' ''What you see is a genjutsu Kotetsu ooooooo!'' Izumo said trying to be scary

Correction: can’t be bothered to PROPERLY explain.

Correction: Let’s use every chance to say it was a ninja art of some kind.

Correction: completely butchering the english language.

''Shut the hell up and hurry up, we got another day of writing down traffic. Ugh, we always get stuck doing this shit.''

“Probably has something to do with the fact we’re background characters.”

What traffic? Cos the only motor vehicles are in the land of Snow. Do you mean Caravan traffic for trades?

5 minutes later..

Oh. Would you look at that… Another transition…

More lazy writing.

About a quarter mile out from the main gate we see the young Kurotsuchi and the Tsuchikage's secretary named Chihiro approaching the main gate.

Still don’t see anything.

FUCKING DESCRIBE SHIT DAMMIT!

It’s easier to get into the story’s scenery if you describe it a little bit.

Chihiro looked to face the young girl and saw that she was dawning an annoyed expression on her face. ''What's wrong Kurostuchi? Aren't you excited to visit another village let alone live in one for a while?'' She asked the young kunoichi to be

“I know you struggle to emote, but really…”

USE PERIODS!

She made her hate for Konohagakure very (not really) prominent in the very beginning. Did you just leave the room without anyone seeing you or did you not pay attention?

''No! I don't want to live in that poor excuse of a village. They're all murderers and deserve to be wiped out off the face of the Earth.'' Kurotsuchi shot back

What sort of brainwashing did you go through?

Obviously one of unreasonable hate toward a village instead of the one person who killed her mom.

“I don’t know who killed my mother so I’ll blame the whole village that is often called one of the most accepting!” Also, I don’t believe Naruto was ever said to take place on Earth, it was always called the Elemental Nations.

''Stop it, when are you going to understand that this is for our village's benefit? Do you not want us to at least be on friendly terms with Konoha or would you rather have the both of us hate each other forever and probably go to war again? You know we aren't in a position to fight another war Kurotsuchi, if another one broke out we would be annihilated. We've lost so many shinobi last time and we can't go through that again. Besides, think of it this way. You've already mastered your lava release correct?''

Another wall of dialogue. Do you think these characters are capable of performing actions while talking, or are they not advanced enough?

Yay! Wall of text! Cos everyone like those! Their like the floating heads in Rick and Morty.

Kurotsuchi nods at Chihiro's question.

''Then you can add the element of fire to your disposal to make you even more awesome. Fire is probably the most powerful element and from what I've heard has some really good jutsu for it. So that's a benefit for you.'' Chihiro finished

“Just a reminder, I’m doing this for a paycheck.”

“Because you’re a brat with poor character development even for a canon character!”

To make yourself more awesome? Seriously? Just because she has a Kekkei Genkai doesn’t mean that the main cast will like her, especially since she has a poorer attitude than Sasuke.

''And what other benefits are there huh?'' Kurotsuchi snorted

OINK OINK

SUUUUEWEEEE!

''Besides being educated and taught in fire release techniques, you'll also be trained by the best academy out of the five great nations. Konoha is well known for producing excellent ninja and they're no doubt the best trained as well. So there's that.'' Chihiro explained

If you do that, THEN you can crush them.

Crush them in your mighty Russian thighs.

Kurotsuchi's eyes turned into stars. 

Jesus!

'She does have a point! I'm already awesome as it is but being trained by the best ninja...gross, I mean, being trained by Konoha's best is not too shabby at all. Learning fire release makes it even better too!'

“I’m too cool to acknowledge any sort of superiority from Konoha!”

“My ego is massive unlike my breasts!”

“My ego is compensation!”

Guys, she’s ten...

''Hey, we're here.'' Chihiro said snapping Kurotsuchi out of her thoughts,��'Huh?'

''I said we're here.''

Kurotsuchi looks towards her front and sees the main gate of Konohagakure, open and ready to accept whoever walks through them. She had to admit it gave off a friendly, warm and welcoming vibe which was something that she wasn't used to.

I am 99.999% confident she’ll still treat everyone like a piece of shit.

I’m pretty confident she’ll meet Naruto within the first chapter.

I’m pretty confident she’s going to pick a fight with every single one of them.

The two Iwa ladies then enter the gate and walk up towards the small checkpoint where Izumo and Kotetsu were.

''Hi, may I see your identification, papers, all those goodies?'' Izumo asked with a warm smile

All those goodies? That is extremely lame.

Waiting for the moment to stab a bitch. PLOT TWIST, Izumo is the true villain of this plot!

ʕงಠᴥಠʔง Wanna go bro?

Chihiro reaches for her I.D. and hands it to the Chunin. Looking at Kurotsuchi she raises her eyebrow prompting the young girl

RAGE

to hand Kotetsu her exchange papers. The two Chunin then take the time to look over the documents before nodding in satisfaction.

“Sorry ma’am, I’m afraid I need to stab you.”

“I’m to lazy to write Protagonist’s name so here’s a half assed nickname which is just her name shortened.”

''So I presume this young lady is part of the exchange program between our villages?'' Izumo asked handing the two ladies their documents ''Yes, young Kurotsuchi here will attend the academy.'' Chihiro replied with a smile

Sure, that’s what they all say!

Even though she’s said she’s already ‘good enough’.

''Just my luck...'' Kurotsuchi mumbled ''Oh come on little lady! The Konoha ninja academy is the best! We have amazing instructors and the student body is quite diverse as it is already! I think you'll meet some good kids your age you'd get along well with.'' Kotetsu inquired

“It’s not like we’re going to kill you like your mother!”

“Which I’m sure is going to somehow be used against you for plot!”

Whine, whine, whine, bitch, bitch, bitch. I bet you the author is going to stick her in Team 7 for no good reason.

''Yeah, whatever you say.'' The soon to be kunoichi groaned before receiving a tap on the back of the head from Chihiro

Main character despise all goodwill and warmth.

THE GOODWILL! IT BURNS! 

This is Katherine all over again. DAMMIT! GET THE PAN!

''Heh, excuse her behavior she isn't feeling well this morning gentlemen! Would you be so kind to escort us to see the Hokage?''

Translation: “She’s being a bitch and embarrassing me. Can we go?”

Translation to translation: Little cunt needed to be aborted.

We’re right back to overly formal, just talk like a normal person please.

''Sure.'' Izumo said before clearing his throat, ''Oh ANBUUUUUUUUUUU!'' He shouted in a sing-song voice

Escorting your whiney ass is bad enough, don’t embarrass the poor guy but having him do a singsong voice in the middle of the road. 

And like that (COMMA) two ANBU agents appeared before the four of them. ''Could you guys escort these ladies to see Lord Hokage? The little lady there is an exchange student from Iwagakure.'' Izumo explained.

You know that default icon you have when you don’t set your profile picture? That’s how I imagine all of these characters.

Y’know that feeling you get when you smell horseshit incoming? I’m getting that right now. OH WAIT! THIS WHOLE STORY IS BULLSHIT!

The two ANBU nod before motioning the Iwa ladies to follow suit. ''Man, she is a mean girl!" Kotetsu said once they were out of hearing range

Thank you Captain Obvious.

Holy shit! Someone who understands us! FINALLY!

More like she’s a mega bitch, who can’t stop whining about how she can’t stand Konahagakure’s inhabitants because one ninja killed her mom.

''She's from Iwa so it makes sense why she's acting like that so give the kid a break Kotetsu.'' Izumo said in a bossy voice

I’m sorry, what? Give the kid a break? No. She’s being rude to you for no valid reason.

“The readers would’ve needed to know the main plot line to understand anything that’s going on. I’d hate to be that guy.”

Author believes we can remember what happened 700+ episodes/mangas and ten movies ago.

''Well I sure hope she doesn't end up...killing some kids from our village considering that some bad blood still exists between us and them.''

On second thought, it probably wasn’t a good idea to let her in the village.

She’ll probably commit arson. Like the Kyuubi did. Too soon?

''I agree.'' Izumo concluded The two of them were left to sulk in depression as another day as gate guards begins.

 HAHAHA DEPRESSION IS FUNNY.

HAHAHA LIKE MY ALCOHOLISM!

HAHAHA YOU SERIOUSLY NEED HELP!

-Hokage Tower-

I’m fine. Really.

Chihiro, Kurotsuchi and the two ANBU are seen walking up the staircase towards the Hokage's office. After a few more minutes (COMMA) they finally approach the large double doors where the office is.

Yay for poor descriptions!

Wow, these descriptions almost make me feel like I’m actually there.

''Here we are, please go ahead and enter.'' One of the ANBU said ''Thank for your escort.'' Chihiro said

Nodding, the two ANBU then shunshin leaving the two ladies alone. Chihiro then bent down to where she was eye-level with Kurotsuchi. ''Now Kurotsuchi, I want you to be on your best behavior alright? For the love of Kami

Get it?! The Japanese word for God?! GET IT?!

Even though I’m sure Naruto has it’s own gods and legends right?

Stopderailingtheauthor’sjokewithyourfacts.

don't start anything with any of the young Konoha shinobi, don't pick fights and please don't insult the Hokage. That would be pretty bad since he knows the Tsuchikage's granddaughter is attending the shinobi exchange program.''

“He will have you shot.”

''I can't guarantee that Chihiro-san, my temper and arrogance gets the best of me sometimes so whatever I do you can blame the brats who pushed me.'' Kurotsuchi snorted

“I’m a cool teen that does whatever I want without any consequences! It’s their fault for crossing me!”

Jesus, it’s Sasgay.

Sasuke has a better attitude than her.

''YOUNG LADY.'' Chihiro shouted as her eyes glow red sending waves of killer intent towards the little girl

Good job reprimanding her by reminding her that she is, in fact, a young female.

''Ung!''

A+ dialogue.

Sounds like the name of a character from Dawn of the Croods.

Way to make her sound constipated.

''You're our representative for this program, since we are so low on shinobi we can only send you and you seriously better behave! Make Iwagakure look good you hear me? Most importantly, make Lord Tsuchikage look good.''

You’re really expecting her to understand something like that? I thought better of you Assistant Chihiro.

Assistant is expecting a lot of Shitty Protagonist.

I find it funny that she’s expecting her NOT to mess this up.

Kurotsuchi knew she was right, she can't screw up and now she had to throw away her hatred of Konoha aside if she wanted to even be a kunoichi. ''Fine, I understand Chihiro-san. I promise to behave.'' Kurotsuchi sighed with honesty in her words

“Even though I don’t really. I’ll probably spend most of the story making this a living hell for just about everyone here.”

“I don’t give a shit about anyone.”

“I’m just gonna throw a tantrum and make everyone's life hell until they get sick of me and send me home.”

Chihiro smiled, maybe Kurotsuchi would pull through and get through the ninja academy without causing any problems. Getting up she balls her hand into a fist ready to knock on the door.(SPACE)''Ready Kurotsuchi? She asked turning to look at the girl

“Even if you’re not, I’m still going to knock anyway.”

YAY PLOT!

''Yes.'' Chihiro then knock on the door three times as loud as she could. The two of them were greeted with silence

Oh, hey silence! How’s it going? Creeping in stories with ridiculous prose I see!

Silence, why did you leave us with wall texts!?

before a voice spoke. ''Come in.''

So descriptive.

Chihiro then grabs the door(ONE WORD)knob and turns it opening the door and they enter the office. Closing the door behind them Chihiro turns to face the Hokage and the two of them were greeted by an elderly man Kurotsuchi guessed was the same age as the Tsuchikage. He had a warm smile on his face and was smoking a pipe.

Ah, you look like an asshole. Not because of your nonexistent character description, but because you’re from ~Konoha~.

Cos all old people with pies are assholes.

''Ah, are you the two lovely ladies from Iwagakure? I am Hiruzen Sarutobi and I am the Hokage of Konohagakure no Sato.'' He welcomed

No, just no. Be consistent with your naming. This makes your writing look sloppy jumping between the english dubbed name and the full japanese name of the village.

Kurotsuchi is no lady with how she acts. She’s acting like a spoiled brat. Jesus this IS Katherine.

''Yes, I have brought young Kurotsuchi here to attend your academy as part of the Shinobi Exchange on behalf of the Tsuchikage.'' Chihiro explained

You should have already known that, but I’m not going to say anything about it.

I’ve given up on the plot.

This political motive is still lame.

Smiling, the Hokage looks at Kurotsuchi. The girl was a bit apprehensive but when she saw that his eyes had a look of calm and kindness in them she sighed in relief.

Because she wasn’t trained enough to keep her guard up no matter what just by looking in someone's eyes.

“Stop being so nice to me and let me hate you!”

“Let me be an angsty bitch that hates the entire village for no good reason.”

“My mother IS dead, but I blame the whole place.”

''Hm, and do you have your files? Any important documents you will need to enroll in our academy young Kurotsuchi?''

Again, you trusted the ten-year-old with the important paperwork.

Nodding, Kurotsuchi takes her file out of her pack and walks up to the elderly man. Taking it from the girl Hiruzen then proceeds to look over her enrollment papers that came with the packet. Nodding in satisfaction he then places the papers on his desk.

And the plot continues at a snail’s pace.

There was a plot?

''Well then, your grandfather must really want you to be part of the program. I'll gladly mail this to the academy headmaster and you will receive a letter in the mail that will confirm your acceptance.'' ''Thank you Lord Hokage.'' Kurotsuchi said politely as she bows

“But not really. I still fucking hate your guts.”

I called it when she was gonna start going soft the moment she came here.

She’s the angsty teen character, that's exactly what’s going to happen.

''Haha, no need for formalities young lady, today I'm feeling very jolly so just call me Hokage-sama okay?''

Which is still formal.

First time you use formalities correctly is when you say don’t use them. GAH!

San would be more casual than sama. Just saying.

''Oh, okay Hokage-sama.'' Kurotsuchi chuckled

“I still hate you and everyone in this village. Now quit being nice and let my hate fester.”

''Ahem, now I will give you your address to the apartment complex you will live in with the other village exchange students. Don't worry about not being guarded because I have ANBU guarding the apartment 24/7 just in case anyone dares to try and attack children from other villages. Your safety is our utmost concern.'' Hiruzen said with a smile

“This isn’t effective anywhere outside the apartments so you’re pretty much on your own everywhere else. Pretty counter-intuitive, right?”

“Even though this is the first time we’ve done exchanges with ninjas.”

He then takes a pen and writes down the address to the complex before handing it to Kurotsuchi. ''There you go, that will be all. So do you have anything else to say before I send you off?''

Now would be the time to request bail.

-Prepares ceremonial noose-

''Nothing here for me to say Lord Hokage, thank you for having Kurotsuchi here in your village. I'm sure Lord Tsuchikage would be pleased.'' Chihiro said with a bow ''No problem, will that be all?'

“Yeah, can I punch you since I hate you?”

The two Iwa ladies shake their heads in response before Hiruzen dismissed them. They proceed to leave the tower and make their way towards the front entrance of the building. Chihiro bends down to Kurotsuchi's level to bid her farewell. ''Well Kurotsuchi, this is where I have to leave you dear. You going to be okay on your own?'' She questioned

In other words, you’re not going to fuck up, are you?

I sense future fucking up.

''Yeah yeah, I'm a big girl now so don't stress out. I'll find my way to the complex.'' Kurotsuchi answered with confidence

“I’m a big kid now!”

“I wear huggies!”

“I’m sooooooo gonna get lost.”

''Good, be on your best behavior and we'll see you at graduation.'' Kissing her on the forehead Chihiro then waves good-bye before walking off and disappearing into the crowd.

Well, that was awkward.

“I don't have to deal with your ass anymore, BYE BITCH!”

Kurotsuchi then looks at the paper with the address on it and begins making her way there.

How does she magically know her way around?

-Apartment complex, 1 hour later-

Hahahaha. You must really like those FUCKING transitions. Hahahaha...

FUCK YOU!

Kurotsuchi spent over an hour looking for her apartment complex but it was no easy task. She got lost five minutes after she began her search. 'Man! Konoha is no doubt the largest village of them all! I never got lost in Iwa like this before.'

“It has nothing to do with the fact that I lived in Iwa up to this point!”

“KONOHA SUCKS! BUT I LIKE HOW BIG IT IS!"

That’s because genius you lived there your entire life, this is new territory.

Walking into the door she shows the front desk receptionist her exchange papers and receives the key to her apartment. Thanking the receptionist (COMMA) she then makes her way up to the third floor where her apartment is.

Wow~ So descriptive~!

How much do you bet this is the complex Naruto lives at?

I bet all of Jack Sparrow’s rum.

''Let's see...C-1, C-2, Ah! Here is apartment C-3.'' Taking her key she unlocks the door and opens it. She was greeted to cool air to which she sighs in relief. 'Wow! The A.C. is already on!' She thought as she walks into the living room.

Turns out her apartment is a giant white box. No furniture or anything.

Just an A.C.

Setting her pack on the desk in the kitchen she notices an envelope and a note on the table for her. Picking it up she opens the envelope and finds over $500,000 for food shopping and other necessities that she may need later on.

In AMERICAN? THEY USE JAPANESE MONEY DUMBASS!! ALSO! THAT MUCH IN FOOD?! FOR ONE PERSON!?

IT’S CALLED YEN, YOU FOOL. THEY DON’T EVEN USE YEN IN NARUTO ANYWAY. *ahem* Needless to say, she has to be a heavy eater or else she won’t pair well with her ~love interest~

Taking the note she reads it, Dear Kurotsuchi,

This is a letter from me, Hiruzen Sarutobi and I just wanted to let you know I am glad that you have decided to attend the Konoha ninja academy on behalf of your grandfather Tsuchikage Onoki and the exchange program to help improve relations between our two nations. In the envelope if you haven't opened it yet contains enough ryo to last you the entire four years you will be in the academy. Please spend it wisely on things you will need such as food, clothes, hygiene and cleaning products. Do not worry about bills because the power, water and other household utilities are free as part of being in the program. Once again I thank you and welcome you to Konohagakure no Sato and I hope you enjoy your stay and your future career as an Iwa kunoichi in service to Konoha. -Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage

He seems to really like bending over backwards for these exchange students.

Couldn’t you at least have made the letter a different text like italics?

No, that would be too much work.

Smirking,

“Ha, that’s right! You’re my bitch!”

“I WON’T SPEND THE MONEY WISELY!”

Kurotsuchi puts the letter aside and opens her fridge to find it stocked up! ''Holy crap! The old man planned ahead huh?'', Looking into the fridge's shelves she spots several frozen meats, Sriracha sauce, frozen yogurt, dumpling recipes and various fruit juices. Peeking at the top of the fridge she spots two gallons of water and two 24-packs of water bottles stacked atop one another. Moving onwards towards the counter she sees cooking utensils placed neatly and orderly. Taking a chair (COMMA) she climbs onto the counter-top and opens up the shelves and sees various cooking ingredients such as salt, pepper and everything you would want.

You take the time to describe this, but nothing else?

Cos food is priority apparently.

Obviously. 

''You know, maybe being here wouldn't be THAT bad..'' She whispered to herself

You only think this because you don’t have to work for any of that.

Fat bitch.

She then proceeds to unpack her bag and takes out a fresh pair of clothes to shower. Thirty minutes later she exits the shower and jumps onto the couch in the living room. ''The couch feels nice, much better than those old ones back home.''

“My bastard grandpa was right! I do like it better here!”

Wow. -__- Guess you forgot your mother’s death. But I’m sure it’ll come back up for plot.

She’ll probably meet her killer and kill them to avenge her mother, knowing our luck.

Deciding that sitting and laying would be boring she decided that she might as well go out and explore the village a little since it's better to know it now than later so she doesn't get lost. Getting up she then heads out the door and begins her self(HYPHEN)tour of the village.

Silly nugget. Didn’t you forget you got lost?

Apparently yes.

She has the attention span of a goldfish.

-Konoha Streets-

HahahaHAHAHAHAHA. I’m going to end you.

ʕ╯°ᴥ°ʔ╯FUCK IT!

After over two hours of walking through the village and finding where the food, shinobi and clothing stores were she was starting to feel hungry and thought it would be a good idea to get some lunch. Checking her little watch (COMMA) she saw that it was around one in the afternoon. ''Hm, I wonder if this dump has any good places worth eating at.''

Yes, this ‘dump’ is more put together and reformed than your dump you call home as stated in the first couple of paragraphs.

Even after being raveged by a giant fox. (I mean their repairs are kind shoddy in some places)

Well according to this, they did get bombed several months prior, so the dumpiness has to be stated twice.

She said as she stops to take a quick look around. One stand catches her eye. A ramen stand that had a sign sporting the words 'Ichiraku Ramen!'. ''Well I guess ramen will do since it looks relatively friendly and cheap.'' She said to herself as she walks up to the shop.

“Still a dump though.”

“Still hate it here. Just like the food.”

Taking a seat (COMMA. YOU REALLY LIKE GERUNDS, I SEE) she notices that the stand only had about twelve seats and was really small but had a really nice and friendly atmosphere to it. She spots a girl with brown hair who appeared to be a year older

Your powers of observation are lacking and at the same time are sharp enough to tell the minute age gap between you and an absolute stranger.

Semi-All knowing MC.

than her cleaning the dishes while an older man in his mid-thirties was seen prepping the broth for the noodles. She sat there silently before the girl spotted her.

Speak dammit, I get you’re from the land of ROCKS, but you are not a ROCK! AAAAAAAGH!

I know you have the emotional capacity of a potato, but the least you can do is use your words instead of awkwardly sitting there.

Sitting around and being awkward is the best social interaction dontcha know?

''Hi! Welcome to Ichiraku ramen! What can I get you?'' The girl said in a very cheerful tone ''Oh, um this is my first time here... (CAPITALIZE)actually this is my first time in this village so I don't really know what you have..'' Kurotsuchi replied

Well, ramen for starters.

There weren't ramen stands at your home? You know, literally the cheapest meal ever besides crackers. ALSO READ THE MENU BITCH!

''I think I can guess why you haven't been here before young lady. It's because you're in the shinobi exchange program (COMMA) right?'' The older man said without looking at her

That man must be a mindreader!

MORE ALL KNOWING CHARACTERS!

''Erm, yeah that's why. I'm from Iwagakure.''

And as such I show no emotion. Beep boop. Kill all humans.

Beep boop. KILL ALL OF KONOHA. Beep beep boop.

I am a robot. Beep bop beep boing.

''Iwa huh? Never met anyone from there before so it's a pleasure! I'm Teuchi and this fine little lady here is my daughter Ayame.'' Teuchi introduced with a bow ''Nice to meet you!'' Ayame greeted ''Kurotsuchi, likewise.''

“I lack a last name because it makes me cool.”

“You’re not cool enough to know my last name.”

''You know since it's your first time here I'll give you a free bowl on the house.'' Teuchi said as he dumps some ramen into the broth to cook

Great business, give the little whore a free bowl just cos she’s new. Gold star!

Shut it, that’s a good strategy to get the little bitch to show up again!

-,,,,- This does not please Zoidberg.

''I mean, if you insist that is.'' Kurotsuchi shrugged

“I have the emotional capacity of exactly half of a teaspoon.”

That’s not very much.

''Hey it's on the house!''

“So, you’ll spend money here, right?

''Oh fine. Thanks anyway.''

I’m sorry, but the command “gratitude” is currently unavailable. Please try again later.

Thankful.exe has stopped working.

After about five minutes another person comes into the stall and takes a seat two stools away from Kurotsuchi. Looking out the corner of her eye she could make out a boy with spiky blonde (BLOND) hair about her age. Turning to face him completely she saw that he had blue eyes and whisker marks on his cheeks that made him look a bit feral.

I FUCKING CALLED IT!

After the last story, the word “feral” gives me PTSD

This feral enough?

I will bury you alive (ʘ‿ʘ✿)

I’m taking the rum with me.

''Oh! Daddy, Naruto is here!" Ayame shouted in glee

I read this as ‘Daddy naruto’ oh god.

''Get him his usual!'' Teuchi called out The blonde (BLOND IS FOR MALES, BLONDE IS FOR FEMALES) boy sat there with a huge smile on his face. Noticing the girl sitting close to him he turns his head and looks her way. The two lock eyes for a moment before Naruto gave her his trademark grin then turning away.

Despite never being to the village before nor meeting the main character, she knows exactly what his trademark grin is.

Bruh… She’s back to all knowing again.

There was something about the look in his eyes that got Kurotsuchi curious. While his eyes and smile displayed happiness Kurotsuchi saw a sense of loneliness and depression.

Oops, your all knowing narrator syndrome is showing again.

Goddammit, even Jacob was this all knowing.

Of course you’re curious, you want something to compare to.

''Hiya! I'm Naruto! You can send the love letters later, nice to meet you!" The blonde (BLOND) greeted with his foxy grin as he looks back at her

You can send the love letters later? Seriously, that is way out of character for him.

That right there is the epitome of a lady killer. Figuratively and maybe literally.

Why is NOBODY saying their last names when meeting each other!?

''Uh, yeah..'' She said as a bowl of ramen was placed in front of her, 'Oh dang, that actually looks really good!'

“I was expecting a piece of trash from a trash town!”

“I hate this stupid trash town and its stupid trash people.”

Did you just expect disgusting slop or something?

''Enjoy!'' Ayame said before giving the blonde (BLOND) his bowl. ''Thanks Ayame!'' He shouted as he goes to devour his bowl in 2.5 seconds

Exactly. Not a second more.

He doesn’t even eat that fast in the actual manga and anime.  ʕ>ಠᴥಠʔ> ======= O

Evidently we must over exaggerate how fast the boy can eat.

Kurotsuchi was taking her second bite when she looked at the boy and her eyes nearly rocketed out of her sockets. That blonde (BLOND) had already eaten twelve bowls while she was only on her second bite!

 Pretty sure he would have choked. Which might have been preferable given who the love interest is.

You know what Kuro’s gonna choke on later? ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ Naruto’s salami.

Che?

*pat pat* When you’re older Coffee.

'Holy crap, how the heck does he do that? No human on earth can eat that fast!' She thought with a deadpan expression

Dead like her mother.

(ಥ﹏ಥ) Dead like my will to live.

Another five minutes would go by and when Kurotsuchi got halfway through her bowl she turned and looked and saw over twenty more empty bowls stacked up beside the boy.

Is he just allowed to do that? Eating that much ramen costs a bit. It’s a business, not a charity.

I know Naruto eats ramen A LOT, but he doesn’t eat this MUCH DAMMIT!

Good lord you take forever to eat.

'This guy doesn't hold back when it comes to eating huh?'

Nope.

Picking up the pace Kurotsuchi devours her bowl just as Naruto finished bowl number twenty-two. Burping he turns to look at the girl giving her a grin. ''I see you trying to eat as fast as me huh? Think you can do better?'' He asked

Of course she does! She’s the main character!

Cos MC’s can do anything!

Kurotsuchi just scoffed before a second bowl was placed in front of her. With the utmost efficiency (COMMA.) she managed to devour it in five seconds much to Naruto's surprise.

You are paying for that one, right?

“I’ve never done this before or eat eat ramen at all but watch me down this shit like  beer!”

''Haha! That was fast but not fast enough!'' Naruto said as another bowl was placed in front of him and to Kurotsuchi's surprise he ate it in literally a quarter of a millisecond.

Chewing is no longer a necessity. He just unhinges his jaw and devours it whole. The bowl included.

She’s gonna win, I just know it. Or she loses and follows Naruto to his home.

''What the?!'' She said Setting the bowl down the blonde (HAVE I MADE MY POINT YET?)turns to face the girl with his supposed signature grin. ''Think you can top that girly?'' He questioned

But of course she’s gonna.

“Girly?”, Naruto doesn’t call anyone girly, you’re letting his OOC show again.  

With a tic mark forming on her head she pounds on the counter and screams ''Third bowl! Now!"

“MY PRIDE IS AT STAKE HERE! I CAN’T LOSE TO THIS TRASH PERSON FROM THIS TRASH TOWN.”

“MUST WIN AT SOMETHING I’VE NEVER DONE BEFORE!”

''Here you go!" Teuchi said Grabbing the bowl and putting it against her face she proceeds to devour it at a speed that was considered inhuman that even Naruto was once again taken by surprise. 'I won't lose! Kurotsuchi always wins because I'm the best!' Two hours later..

Oh lookie… A time skip. This stand’s out of business by now.

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF-

After over two hours having a ramen eating contest

Really? Two hours have passed? Are you sure? I know you told us in that God-awful transition, but just got to be certain.

neither of them were aware of the two of them had eaten a total of one-hundred bowls each and now they were on their last bowls as their little stomachs were on the verge of exploding.

Fucking really? If Naruto’s draining bowls in 2.5 seconds he’d be beyond 100 in TWO FUCKING HOURS!

They had to stop before the bill became even more outrageous. Which I hope they’re paying for.

They’re not going to and we all know it. She has to win because “she’s the best.”

''I...I won't lose to you (COMMA) blondie.'' Kurotsuchi moaned as she takes her chopsticks and takes a bite of some ramen

Bet this won’t be the only time she moans around Naruto.  ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ wink wink nudge nudge

SCROTAL PUNCH!

NOOOO! (ಥ﹏ಥ)

You kinda should have expected that.

''Y..yeah sure...I'm a natu-*Burp* (THAT IS NOT HOW YOU WRITE DIALOGUE)-ral at this..'' Naruto groaned as he tries to take one last bite but before he could put the ramen in his mouth his head slumps forward and lands on the counter. His body seemingly unconscious.

I think he might be dead.

*pokes the body with a stick* nope he twitched, still alive.

Can’t kill Love Interest off, whose MC gonna use a pillow to cry on when she remembers Dead Mama?

''Yes!'' Kurotsuchi shouted with her arms raised

Of course she fucking won. -__-. RAMEN IS LITERALLY ALL NARUTO CAN AFFORD FOR A MEAL! BESIDES SPOILED MILK!

Teuchi and Ayame couldn't help but laughed at the two children.

“I can’t wait so see their faces when I show them the bill.”

Considering Asian currency is often a much lower value, I’ll say the ‘500,000’ is actually more so around a much lower amount in American, so she wasted it all on ramen. TWO HOURS OF TWO AND A HALF SECOND BOWLS OF RAMEN FROM A SHITTY STAND!

He gave her enough for four years, she not running out for awhile.

Fun fact, one US dollar is equal to ten ryo, the official currency in Naruto. Also there are 3600 seconds in an hour. So eating 2.5 seconds consistently for two hours gets about 2880 bowls. Average ramen at a shop like this one costs usually no more than 500 yen (50 ryo). This get’s you about 144,000 ryo ($14,000). And that’s just accounting for one of them, not counting the bowls that Naruto had devoured before starting this competition.

Lucky for them, the writer had mentioned it was only 100 bowls a piece. So instead of that number it��s more like 5000 ryo ($500) per person. Which is still expensive.

But that doesn’t make since, if it’s only one hundred bowls, that means they must’ve slowed down A LOT to make that amount, together, in two hours. Also: Why didn’t the owner stop them. Surely they just ate most of his stock for the day.

''Aaaaaand I believe the winner is the young Iwa exchange student!'' Teuchi declared while Ayame applaud, ''Congrats! Looks like Naruto has a rival!'' ''W-whatever...''

“I-It’s not like I like you or anything! B-Baka!”

AHAHAHHAHA. Get out.

Kurotsuchi said as she devours her last bowl before she performs a hand seal for a technique that allows her full stomach to immediately digest all the food.

That’s cheating!

(ಥ﹏ಥ) Really?

''There, all better, thanks for the food old guy!'' Kurotsuchi says as she takes off

“I’m not gonna pay for it, What’s-Your-Face.”

She keeps her money, like the little slut she is.

Checking her watch she saw that it was about five in the evening and decided to go look around for the training fields. After thirty minutes of searching she found the Third Training Field where she hoped she could practice some moves in peace away from the bustling village. She enters the field and the sight was quite nice compared to the Iwa training fields. It was in the middle of a small forest with a large river cutting through the middle of it that led to a lake a quarter mile away.

Lookie Coffee! No transitions!

Truly a marvelous day.

Oh, happy day!

''Huh, I guess this place is somewhat nice.'' She said to herself before taking out a small scroll from her small pack and focuses some chakra-

HOLY SHIT! FIRST TIME CHAKRA WAS MENTIONED! HOLY FUCK!

It’s a miracle, actual show related stuff is being described!  0_0

- into her hand. Placing it on the scroll a sword materializes and she unsheathes it and begins practicing some Kendo techniques for over a few hours before deciding to head back to her apartment.

Well, the descriptiveness didn’t last long. 

-Shopping District of Konoha, the same night-

Yeah, no. Everything is fine. EvERYTHING IS FUCKING DANDY. I’M NOT MAD. WHY THE FUCK WOULD I BE MAD?

FUCK! I HAD TO SAY SOMETHING!

IT IS OFFICIALLY YOUR FAULT FOR THIS.

Yep, gif sums it up.

NO IT DOESN’T. THAT DOESN’T EVEN SCRATCH THE SURFACE.

It was around eight at night now and Kurotsuchi was walking the now semi quiet streets of Konoha.

Descriptions are top-notch as usual. (Read as lacking)

As the Cromulons would say: DISQUALIFIED!

 She was glad she was walking home at this time because during the day Konoha was jam packed with people moving around making it pretty challenging to walk the streets. Since it was eight now traffic had died down about 40% making travel much easier.

 40% precisely, based on what she only saw that one day.

All-Knowing Syndrome is back.

She continued walking until she heard a huge commotion up the street and saw a mob of sorts doing what she believed was chasing someone.

Taking bets now. $50 says it’s her love interest.

$40 on it being Chihiro.

''Huh, who pissed those guys off?'' She whispered to herself, ''Oh well, none of my business.''

Oh boy, villagers chasing someone at night, who ever could it be. -__-. +100 points for using originality.

She was about to turn the other direction when she heard what sounded like a child shout in pain, ''What the hell?'' She said before running towards the mob.

 Chronic Hero Syndrome +50.

As she was approaching the mob she heard various sentences being said. ''Kill the demon!''

 Yep, it’s Love Interest. -hands Coffee 50 bucks- Dammit.

I’ll take that!

''You will pay for what you did all those years ago!’’

Mob mentality of course -.-.

+2 points for great speech. -__-

''Time to die!''

Sooooo original. -___-

Oh no, not Naruto! The true MC!

Quickly, save your love interest even though you supposedly hate this town and everyone in it!

She made her way directly behind the mob and spotted a mix of shinobi and villagers carrying various weapons such as pitchforks, katanas, kusarigamas and torches.

+50 points for having professionally trained shinobi join in instead of stopping.

This is some Frankenstein-esque shit.

This is unoriginal. I see it in NEARLY EVERY DAMN NARUTO FANFIC!

Peaking (PEEKING) through the gaps of their legs (COMMA AND STOP ABUSING GERUNDS) she saw someone familiar. It was that blonde (NO E UNLESS NARUTO IS A LADY) Naruto kid from the ramen stand! The boy was in a fetal position cowering in fear before the mob.

“We are strangely prone to violence here!”

I mean if he’s ten and has this many adults wanting to beat him up, I can’t blame him.

The problem here is that the adults didn’t join in the beating, they just verbally berated him. It was the kids and teenagers that beat the hell out of him.

''These idiots are picking on some kid?

And how old are you, kid?

TEN! LIKE HIM! YOU CAN’T DO SHIT! LEAST KATHERINE HAD A PAN! I MEAN PLAN!

Well I'll show them who's boss!...Wait...I'll only cause a problem if I attack anyone from here..damn.'' She said to herself, ''Guess I'll just save the blondie and get out of here.''

You guess. It’s the only way to move the plot forward.

This is the part where you get creative and not just wing it.

Save him so you can get that sweet smoked salami later ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

With that Kurotsuchi then hops over the mob and lands in between them and the blonde (IS HE A LADY?) holding her hand protectively in front of Naruto.

Who even is Kurotsuchi? Like I do not remember her at all. Never mind, looked her up: She’s actually a nice looking character and nicely developed as a person. In This story? Not so much.

“For some reason I care about this particular piece of trash. If he’s dead, he can’t foot the bill!”

Feeling the presence of someone looming over him Naruto opens his eyes and spots a person standing in front of him separating him from the mob with their hand held in front of him as if protecting him. 'It's that girl from the Ichiraku's!' He thought recognizing the girl

Somewhere in the background, someone yelled, “One of you fuckers owes us a shit-ton of money!”

“And a new supply of ingredients!”

''Who the hell are you girl?'' One of the villagers asked

She ate more than the living black hole called Naruto.

''Why the heck are you picking on some kid? She replied

“He can’t pay his - definitely not mine- debt if he’s dead! Do you know how much he -not me- spent tonight?!”

Again MC goes back to being a heartless bitch, remembering the town is stupid and trash.

''Don't protect that demon spawn! He destroyed our village years ago and now we will destroy him and avenge our fallen comrades!'' One of the shinobi yelled

“It’s totally his fault for all of that!”

“Avenge our fallen comrades”, “He destroyed our village years ago and now we will destroy him”, “demon spawn” Nobody talks this formally anymore, get with the program.

“HE HAS WHISKERS! MUST BE ONE OF THEM THERE FURRY FELLAS!”

“That’s reason enough to kill him!”

''You're all scum for picking on a defenseless kid. Especially you (COMMA) shinobi! You're supposed to protect your comrades not hurt them let alone a poor child!" Kurotsuchi spat before one of the Chunin charged forth with a katana ready to cut Kurotsuchi down.

Somehow, they’re even worse trash than MC thought prior.

Better than ICP.

Seriously? They wouldn’t attack unless she presented herself as a threat you idiot.

What can I say? Author’s a dumbass.

'Oh man, just what I need.'

“Screw it! I don’t give a rat’s ass about my village’s reputation! Just as long as I can satisfy my BLOODLUST.”

“I don’t care if my grandpa, who's my leader, gets mad at me!”

Kurotsuchi took her katana-

Where the fuck did your katana come from?

You ask where thy magical sword is produced from? Her butt ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

Pulled straight from her ass.

Just like the author did when writing this shitfest.

and swung it with enough force to swat the Chunin's katana right out of his grip catching the man by surprise. ''What the?!'' He shouted before Kurotsuchi karate chopped his temple knocking him out cold. Chuckling in satisfaction she turns to face the crowd, ''So who's next?'' She said challenging the mob to try her

Haha, really hope no one takes her seriously… There’s no way an untrained student can take down multiple Chunin.

She’s the all powerful MC, of course she can take them all down. *heavy sarcasm*

Meh, I’m sure nobody is, maybe the chunin let her win to make her ego flare.

Just as she said that two more Chunin charged towards her with kunai in hand and like the one before she effortlessly dodged all their attacks and proceeded to knock one of them out before choking the other out cold. Tossing his body aside two villagers came at her and she performed a roundhouse kick knocking them both backwards against the nearby dumpster. After several more minutes of ass(TWO WORDS)kicking Kurotsuchi had managed to beat the mob leaving them beaten into unconsciousness. Naruto was just staring at her in awe.

Turns out they were a bunch of regular villagers. There were also apparently no guards or any form of security to prevent this. Kurotsuchi was sent back home in a bodybag.

Cos a small, untrained, child waving a big sword can defeat fully trained ninjas, and I’m sure there had to be at least ONE Jonin there.

Sooo I’m supposed to buy that she effortlessly beat up half the village, well trained shinobi and walked away without even a single scratch? Yeah, no. Not buying it.

Cracking her neck and her knuckles she lets out a sigh of content. ''Now that was worth the work out!''

 You pulverized them with as much effort as it takes most of us to sneeze and you call it a work out.

Sad this is a canon character and the Author’s using her like a Mary Sue.

She declared before Naruto started speaking, ''Wow! That was so cool! I've never seen anyone kick butt like that! You are really good!'' The blonde (IS THAT WHAT YOU ARE IMPLYING?) declared

YES! MARVEL AT HER AWESOME POWER.

But don’t the villagers kick YOUR but like that? ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

Turning to face the boy she couldn't help but smirk, ''I only beat them because shinobi in your village are weak, that's why they got what they got by a ten-year old like me. I'm awesome and they suck end of story.'' She boasted,

“I’m making this all up to impress you, even if you are a piece of trash! B-Baka!”

“I’m awesome and they suck, end of story.” Such… Oh fuck it I give up. Bring me the 50 year old scotch.

I can practically see the bubble that is her ego inflating.

Quick! Someone get a needle!

Did someone say needle? ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ I got some good fucking heroin for sale.

Nah, I’m good. I already have my coffee, the best kind of drug. (◕ヮ◕)

 ''So what did you do to make all these people want to kill you?'' ''Urm, well I never really did anything at all actually.'' He answered ''Suuuuuuuuuure.'' Kurotsuchi snorted,

I don’t know. He looks ten, but he has the eyes of a killer.

He’s a Yiffer, burn him. Oh god I just angered the Furries again.

She’s gonna learn the village secret here in the next few paragraphs I bet.

''Well it's getting late so you should head on home.'' She ordered as she handed him a handkerchief to clean off his bloody nose. ''Clean that blood off your face, you look like a mess.'' She ordered before she turns to hop over the rooftops. Just as she was about to hop Naruto reached out and grabbed her arm. ''Wait!'' Turning back Kurotsuchi shot an annoyed glare at the blonde (HE HAS A NAME YOU KNOW. OR IS IT SHE?) boy. ''What?''

 “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you skipping out of the bill!”

“OH! Sure I’ll pay it later” Never pays.

''W-what's your name?'' He asked

He’s probably going to send the bill straight to your address.

That’s what I’d do.

'Should I tell him my name or shouldn't I? Oh fine, I guess it wouldn't hurt. I mean it's only polite.' She thought

Even though politeness is something you also lacked the entire story up until now.

*coughs*bitch!*coughs*

''My name is Kurotsuchi.'' Smiling, Naruto gave her his trademark grin, ''I'm Naruto Uzumaki!'' He declared with a thumbs up. ''Um, you told me already but whatever.'' She said before hopping away

Shut your mouth! What happened to being polite?

But he didn’t tell you his LAST name tho! So there you go!

Naruto was left standing there in awe. ''She's cool...'' He mumbled to himself as a blush forms on his face

Figuratively and if I had my way, literally frozen in a block of ice to match her emotional depth.

I feel literally no connection between them. It’s AngelXEmily all over.

He then begins walking home towards his apartment complex. -Naruto's apartment complex-

You know what? Okay, fine. I’m not going to freak out about this. I will rip out your intestines and use them as a skip rope

/╲/\╭ ʕಥᴥಥʔ╮/\╱\ About time I scuttle outta here.

Naruto was making his way up the stairs of his apartment complex before coming up to his door. Reaching into his pocket he takes his keys and unlocks his door and enters it.

Descriptive descriptions are descriptive. Unlike this paragraph.

Unknown to him however that during his entire walk back to his apartment Kurotsuchi was watching him from the rooftops.

In an Edward Cullen-esque manner.

Watching him enter his apartment she then turns to head to hers. There was only one thought going through her mind.

/╲/\╭( ͡° ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° ͡°)╮/\╱\ Is that the ending I see? Has God came to save us?

Why was she feeling very caring towards him?

He’s the main character.

He’s the future love interest.

So that concludes the first chapter of my attempt at a NaruKuro story. I know it won't be perfect but I hoped you enjoyed regardless

Oh, hon. We know.

CONCLUSION

The plot was shaky at best. The amount of convenient plot devices were atrocious, much like your blatant gerund-abuse. The main character isn't very likable and was hardly like the canon character you were supposedly writing. Granted, there is room for development. Your writing was lacking in descriptiveness and commas. It was a boring read, end of story. It needs work, but it is still somewhat salvageable if you take the time and actually think it through 4/10

I rate this as a single gif. WHY!? BECAUSE YOU TOOK A GREAT CANON CHARACTER, MASHED THEM WITH YOUR OWN TEEN ANGST AND SHAT IT OUT AS IF SHE WERE SOME GODDAMN MARY FUCKING SUE OC! YOU SIR DISGUST ME! AND YOU’RE ATTEMPT AT A BLOOMING ROMANCE IS SHITTY! THE PLOTS SHITTY! EVERYTHING IS SHITTY! I SWEAR TO GOD IF I HAVE TO REVIEW EVEN A SECOND MORE OF THIS SHIT I WILL FIND YOU AND STRANGLE YOU LIKE HOMER STRANGLES BART FUCKING SIMPSON! I give you my ultimate rating:

I’m calm now, anyways, that about sums my thoughts, what about you Tea?

The dialogue is incredibly unrealistic, the plot is half baked, if not completely raw. This side character has no place in Konohagakure at all but yet here we are with some idiotic and unrealistic political element that makes no sense. I give this a 1/10.

-Coffee, Tea, and Jagerbomb