#But it feels like the village holds him on a pedestal now

[inadragon]

I love GaaHina arranged marriage aus bc Gaara is so aromantic and awkward and too insecure in his ability to love to seek a close intimate relationship for himself. But also he wants to be known and loved and intimate with somebody and share his life completely.

And Hinata is socially awkward and anxious and sweet and caring. And maybe she's romantically attracted to gaara and maybe she isn't, but she knows he'll always take care of her and she'll always take care of him.

[mcverse]

☆ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝: 𝐘𝐞𝐬/𝐍𝐨

☆ 𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞: 𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

☆ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚)

☆ 𝐊𝐞𝐲𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 𝐤𝐞𝐡𝐞 / 𝐧𝐨, 𝐩𝐮𝐤 / 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤, 𝐲𝐚𝐰𝐧𝐲𝐞𝐰𝐥𝐚 / 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞, 𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐧 / 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐲𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 / 𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐲𝐚𝐰𝐧𝐞 / 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐤𝐱𝐚𝐰𝐧𝐠 / 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐧

☆ 𝐒𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐫: 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐝𝐮𝐞 , 𝐈’𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲

☆ ​𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

“(Name).”

Your eyes flutter, emotions dancing behind each closed eye lid. Your ears press flat against your head as you contemplate whether you’ve heard him right. He speaks your name, a phrase that has spilled from his lips more times than you can recall, to the point where it reaches you even in your dreams.

And yet, this time feels distinctly different. There's an added emphasis and sharpness to it, as if it weighs heavily on his tongue just to say those words. It's almost forced, yet strangely lacks the hesitation one would typically expect in a conversation such as this.

In all your time around him, even during teasing or comforting moments, he has never spoken to you without that gentle tone. The absence of it leaves a void, something you regretfully yearn for now as you find yourself locked in a tense gaze with what seems like a monster in disguise.

He hides his intentions so effectively that you never imagined this confession would take this direction. He fineses the situation so well that you thought of him as a personified version of a blinding sun, simultaneously painful to gaze upon yet offering a small, delightful wave of burn that stings as it gently caresses every inch of your exposed skin.

Your partially chapped lips remain sealed; you’re too afraid that uttering anything would make a bad situation worst. Doubt creeps in. Have you been mistaken all along? Perhaps he doesn't feel the same way after all?

In all honesty, that thought never crossed your mind. It’s not because you’re naturally confident; it's simply because he has a knack for making you feel self-assured enough to entertain the possibility of something more between you both, all based on his actions.

Those moments you didn’t imagine, no matter how much they feel like you did—they were just for you. No other woman in the village has his attention, no other woman does he hold in his arms, bare his heart to, or whisper sweet nothings that are just that; nothing.

That's all it is and all it comes down to, proven to you by his now tense posture and the stone stare he sends you. And it only further destroys the pedestal that you held him so highly upon as he continues to talk while you remain stunned in place.

“I didn’t mean for it—us—to get here…”

What does that mean? You can't help the curt tilt of your head as your eyes swirl with confusion. Did he intend for things to reach this point? Did he knowingly lead to this outcome? It’s a thought that nags at you, but it’s hard to reconcile with the Neteyam you once knew; it just doesn’t seem like something he would do.

The Neteyam you know wouldn't intentionally lead you on. He wouldn't deliberately create a sense of comfort, flood your thoughts with him, and ultimately make you fall in love with him. That idea seems entirely absurd in the context of who you believe him to be.

You blink, swallowing thickly as you part your lips to speak. Licking them, you question him, “I’m not… what do you mean, ‘I didn’t mean for us to get here?’” You need confirmation of your assumptions or even an explanation of why you could be wrong.

He takes a deep breath through his nose, the weight of the moment clearly taking a toll on him. He lowers his head to the ground, unable to meet your eyes. "This shouldn't be happening... It can't go beyond this," he says, the second statement not aimed at you but more of a self-directed declaration.

You don't know what overcame you to respond in the way you did. It's hard for you to even understand why you aren't more on the offense as you softly ask him, "Tell me why not?," when you should be offended and defensive more than anything.

And worst of all, you don't get why your heart is still holding on to hope when you know the answer, but you've played it up to this point like you don't.

He takes a moment to respond, his fists clenched at his sides, as though he's the one facing rejection at this very moment, rather than the other way around. "It'll feel like I'm betraying her," he finally admits, his voice heavy with conflicted emotions.

You may not have known her personally, but you were aware of her existence, and it all makes sense now. It's clear why no other woman is beside him, even though he's of age to mate. The woman he truly desires is miles away, back home where he should be.

You're not her. You just happened to be there when he was feeling low and had nothing better to do. In other words, the time you spent together wasn't enough; you weren't enough.

And the painful truth is that you wish you were enough. Because if you were never going to be enough for him, he should have let you go. It hurts more to be only partially loved when it would hurt less to not be loved at all.

"Betrayal?" You can't help but let out a bitter laugh. His use of the word feels like a double standard, painfully ironic in this context. "You know nothing of betrayal. If you had even a hint..." You pause, tears swelling in your eyes, your face burning with a mix of humiliation, embarrassment, and suppressed anger. "You wouldn't have caused my heart this much pain."

Your words draw his attention back to you, his eyes widening and his mouth slightly agape in apparent shock at your statement.

It only rubs saltwater into your fresh wounds. Did he truly give so little thought to your feelings? It becomes painfully clear that he strung you along, relishing the attention you gave him while holding you in such low regard.

How could you have been so blind?

A better question, how could he be so heartless? Or was it that he only had a heart when it came to her?

Neteyam snaps his mouth shut, his lips forming a thin, tight line. His forehead creases as his eyes flicker over your features, skillfully reading you like a puk. It took a while, months, but he now knew you.

He probably knew you better than you knew yourself because even though he might say it shouldn't have come to this, he had a feeling that's where you were heading.

He could have stopped it, could have saved you the pain—the yawnyewla of falling for someone like him knowing how he felt, but he didn't... a small part of him didn't want to.

A single tear falls down your cheek, but you quickly brush it away. Your chest rises and falls in a slow yet steady rhythm as you work to calm your racing pulse. “You are kawnglan. I wish to never see you again.” you hiss softly, then pivot on the balls of your feet and hurry away from him.

Night falls quickly as you remain within your mauri for the remainder of the day, choosing to nurse your wounds, however poorly you may be at it. You've never been heartbroken before, so a plan needs to be put into motion.

While you wish never to see him again, that doesn't seem practical. You also don't want to stay inside, pouting and crying your eyes out until your tear ducts dry either.

In the days that follow and those that come after, you do the opposite. You put on a facade when you're around others, while at night, you take off your mask.

It's challenging to maintain the act in public, especially when Neteyam is nearby or when you bump into him. However, you are determined to avoid him, even if it means a brief interaction before you can find relief.

Many nights, you lie awake, unable to sleep because your mind is filled with scenarios. You're constantly coming up with better ways to react to his rejection or what you'll say if you ever have another conversation with him.

Ewya, if you had just admired him from a distance, this wouldn't be your reality right now. But instead, you went out of your way to learn his name. Now, all you want is to forget it, to forget him.

You've never felt more unlike yourself. It's hard to recognize yourself when you look into the water during the sun-kissed mornings. Putting yourself willingly into the hands of another for the first time, only for it to backfire horribly, was a terrible mistake.

You should have made a better choice. You should have known better—you knew right from wrong, so how could you not see how wrong it was to love a man who yearns for another?

You spent months avoiding him, and as time went by, it became second nature, making it easier to see less of him without much effort. Were you taking this too far? You didn't think so.

He knowingly took a part of you, so it's only fair that he also knows how you can't stand to be around him... at least not now—he’s lucky if you ever will again.

You learned two lessons from this: There's no better feeling than a first love—it's unforgettable, just as there's nothing worse than a first heartbreak—it takes time to forgive and heal.

And although you were slowly healing, you were cautious as you dipped your toe back into the dating field. You'd be lying if you said you weren't afraid to get hurt again. A small part of you doesn't think you can handle another heartache, so you started slowly; taking baby steps, and this time, you didn't put all your eggs in one basket.

Al'wah, you met him one day while you were sitting thoughtfully on a rock. He came up and sat beside you, and although it was awkward at first, he was smooth at talking.

He even went as far as to say he'd been interested in you for a while but Neteyam was in the way. Unlike Neteyam, he was brave enough to admit his true feelings, and you were flattered. However, you weren't ready to commit while after getting to know him better, Al'wah was.

Next was Zen'kí, a very calm and talented fisherman, proving he was a natural provider. Your conversations with him were easier, as he was more down-to-pandora than anyone you've actually met, and he was truly caring—about nature and all of Pandora's inhabitants.

The only reason it didn't work out was because of rumors among the women of the village. They said that O'laya had been interested in Zen'kí for much longer than you. After knowing how it feels to be in love with someone interested in another, you had to do the right thing and step back so she could finally step up.

There were a few others: Koar and Whûn’k. Each one left an indelible impression, but it wasn't meant to last. Then, you reconnected with Seyknü, a Na'vi you had actually grown up close to. It genuinely surprised you to learn that he was interested in you.

When you were growing up, you had the biggest childish crush on him until Neteyam came around. Now, it seems he's seeing you differently. You can work with that.

As you reconnect with Seyknü, your opinion on commitment change, and it's happening at the right time. You're rediscovering how much he can make you laugh, how charming he is, and how attentive and protective he is toward others. It's good to see that he hasn't changed, but it's tough to realize that you have.

He accepts you wholeheartedly for who you are, and you're ready to reciprocate the same in time. However, it's Neteyam's current actions and whatever game he's playing that seem to be getting in the way.

Honestly, what is he up to?

As your relationship with Seyknü continues, Neteyam's presence becomes more pronounced during your time together. This is growing emotionally taxing and weighing heavily on your heart.

Whenever you and Seyknü seek moments of intimacy or simply enjoy each other's company, Neteyam seems to find a way to insert himself into the situation. Whether he's with Tuk or claiming to have duties from his father, he's always nearby.

When you and Seyknü are lost in your own world, sharing laughter and joy, you can sense Neteyam's gaze on you, like a piercing dagger.

Even when Seyknü reaches out to touch you, whether for a helping hand or more intimately, it's rare for Neteyam not to interrupt. He either "accidentally" bumps into you both or enlists the help of one of the children to divert your attention.

This pattern persists for a while, causing you to question everything that has led to this point. Is it too much to ask for happiness? Should you lower your expectations? But you’re wrong about that too, as you seem to be a lot these months. This realization dawns on you one day when you go searching for Seyknü.

You find Seyknü near some large boulders, and just as you’re about to call out to him, you freeze in your tracks. He isn’t alone. Standing in front of him is Neteyam, and the atmosphere is thick with tension.

Neteyam’s face is contorted with anger, his eyes cold as he looms menacingly within a couple of feet from Seyknü.

Seyknü doesn’t look any better. His tense posture, ears flattened against his skull, and the twitching of his upper lip, baring his canines. With a chest puffed out, he hisses at Neteyam through clenched teeth, “What’s your problem!?”

Neteyam’s hands twitch at his sides, his ears flicking upwards at Seyknü’s tone, but he makes no movement suggesting he’s about to approach Seyknü anytime soon. “You are. Back off her,” he insists.

Seyknü blinks in confusion before his eyes widen as he realizes who Neteyam is referring to. He scoffs, casting a disdainful look up and down Neteyam’s form. “I’ll do no such thing. Save yourself the trouble and move on,” he retorts, his disgust evident in his expression. “She already has with me.” he adds with a smirk.

Neteyam’s jaw tightens in response to Seyknü’s statement. His tail goes stiff behind him as he closes the distance between himself and Seyknü, bringing their faces mere inches apart. Neteyam looms over Seyknü due to his greater height and attempts to explain, “She’s confused—”

But Seyknü interrupts him, shaking his head with a look of disbelief. “No, you’re the one who’s confused,” he retorts firmly. “You can’t force your way back into her life after how you’ve behaved.”

“Don’t speak as if you know what went on between us.”

"I know more than you think," Seyknü spits back, his attempt to push Neteyam away proving futile as Neteyam stands firm. With a confident smirk, Seyknü continues, "I'm the one she confides in now, the one she seeks when she's happy, and the one who takes care of her when she's excited..."

Tensions rise as their exchange becomes more heated but he appears entirely unbothered by the threatening look Neteyam gives him in response to this revelation. Seyknü's smirk widens as he taunts, "Oh, did I strike a nerve? You don't fit in here anymore. You're just a forest boy with no heart.. ha, sorry, a heart that remains anchored to a place far from here."

Neteyam can no longer tolerate Seyknü's words. He swiftly pins Seyknü against one of the boulders, pressing his hand firmly into the center of Seyknü's chest, rendering him immobilized, despite Seyknü's futile resistance.

A faint, mocking smirk tugs at the corner of Neteyam's lips as he observes how weak Seyknü seems, desperately gripping Neteyam's wrist with both hands.

Neteyam can't help but think... How can you be with someone like this? This island boy can't even free himself from Neteyam's grip. He's obviously too weak to protect you. If he can't protect you, Neteyam highly doubts he can provide for you, let alone please you as well as he could. In those aspects, there's no competition.

However, Neteyam acknowledges that everything else Seyknü claims is true. He pushed you into the arms of another man, making him feel like crap since and he often finds himself wondering if that's how he made you feel. He hates that feeling and regrets more than anything that he made you feel that way.

"Last time, Seyknü. Back off—" Neteyam's sentence is abruptly cut short by a powerful punch to the face. The impact temporarily sends him off his feet, and he staggers backward, creating some distance between them. Seyknü seizes the opportunity, taking advantage of Neteyam's momentary confusion, and tackles him to the ground, landing another hit on Neteyam's face.

As Seyknü prepares to land a fourth punch, Neteyam skillfully dodges it by moving his head to the side. In a swift counterattack, Neteyam headbutts Seyknü in the mouth, causing Seyknü to yelp in pain and clutch his mouth with furrowed brows.

Distracted by the pain, Seyknü fails to notice Neteyam's hold on him, ready to flip him over. Towering over Seyknü, Neteyam strikes him in the eye, followed by a flurry of punches targeting his nose and mouth. The physical altercation escalates with each blow Neteyam delivers.

You have to intervene, coming clean that you were eavesdropping because the situation is growing increasingly violent. Neteyam is viciously attacking Seyknü, who, by this point, is simply lying there and taking the blows.

"Get off him!" you shout, rushing in and grabbing hold of Neteyam to pull him away from Seyknü. He moves more easily than you'd expect once he realizes it's you. He watches as you bend down to check on Seyknü's condition. That simple action annoys Neteyam more than it should.

He interprets your concern as an indication that it’s because he's the most injured, or at least that's what he wants to think, rather than realizing that you simply didn't want to interact with him yet. But it was Seyknü who initiated the violence with the first punch, leading to this chaotic situation.

"Seyknü, Seyknü!" you urgently call out to him, trying to get him to open his puffy eyes, while wiping the blood from his face as best as you can. You growl, looking up at Neteyam, "What is wrong with you!?" you hiss, "You hurt everything you touch!"

Neteyam's ears flatten against his skull, his lips forming a small pout as his eyes soften at your words. He bends slightly as steps forward, reaching out to you, and says, “Please let me explain."

"There's nothing to explain. This is what you do," you say with a sharp inhale, looking away. You move to help Seyknü up, his soft groaning urging you to assist him. “Just…leave us alone.” you add, walking past him with Seyknü to get him to the medic tent.

…

After ensuring Seyknü will be well taken care of and crafting a few believable lies, you make the decision to leave the hut. However, as you step outside, you pause when you spot someone loitering nearby.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, your earlier annoyance resurfacing.

Hearing your voice, Neteyam turns to you, straightening up. He slowly steps closer to you, cautious as he should be because you were this close to heading back inside to avoid him. "Is he okay?" he asks softly, nodding toward the tent.

You scoff, rolling your eyes, and cross your arms. "You mean after you beat the crap out of him? He's holding on."

Neteyam rolls his eyes in response, shaking his head, his braids swaying with his movements. "He hit me first," he tries to defend himself, but you're having none of it.

"That doesn't give you the right to do what you did!" you exclaim, stepping closer to him, fists clenched at your side as your whole body burns with anger. "You could have killed him!"

He groans, his brow-bones furrowing deeply as he looks away, his teeth clenched in visible conflict. "Why him?..."

Your expression shifts from anger to confusion as you raise a eyebrow. "Why what?" you ask, crossing your arms and studying him closely, trying to discern what's going on in his head.

"Why him, out of all the men in the village?" he asks, his tone curious, and he fixes an expectant gaze on you.

You blink, momentarily taken aback. His question seems to revolve around Seyknü—on why you chose him. What does this have to do with Neteyam? Given what he did, this is what he was more concerned about? This wasn’t the kind conversation you had in mind, and it's not a topic you're inclined to discuss with him.

You pivot on your heel, declaring your intentions, "I'm going home."

"No," Neteyam's voice booms behind you as his hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you away from prying eyes. He leads you to a clearing and stops, releasing your wrist, his expression now serious. "I'm trying to talk to you!"

"I don't want you to! What I do is none of your business!" you shout, your voice tinged with frustration, your arms gesturing wildly. Your patience is wearing thin, and you're overwhelmed by a mountain of emotions.

You're starting to feel like you're the one losing your mind here, not him. And that's an issue because the problem here is undoubtedly Neteyam. "Why are you so insistent on meddling in my life? What difference would knowing make?”

“Because I still might have a chance” he shouts back, his voice laced with desperation. His chest heaves as he locks eyes with you, and you’re left utterly stunned by his words.

“What?…” Your voice wavers as you struggle to comprehend what he’s saying.

"I messed up, okay!? I was a skxawng—blind and… afraid." He trails off, the last word falling off his lips with hesitation before he gathers himself and continues, “But not anymore. I finally see what was in front of me all along." With each word, he takes a step closer, a sense of urgency in his eyes as he looks down at you, seeking your understanding.

With each step, you back away, shaking your head and raising a finger to mimic your disbelief. "No. You can't just… You're not saying what I'm thinking… are you?"

He nods, following you, his voice filled with sincerity. "I'm not hooked on the wrong girl. The one I want is right here, right in front of me. I can't be afraid of letting her slip away too when I can do something about it right now."

A small gasp escapes your lips as your back meets a tree, leaving you trapped between it and him. Your wide eyes meet his, and your pulse races fast in sync with your thoughts. Since your confession, you never thought he would reciprocate your feelings.

The tables have turned. He's the one approaching you this time. In the past, you might have been thrilled by this new development, but now, knowing what you do, happiness isn't what you feel. Who did he really think he was?

"That's a shame," you say, swallowing subtly with a dry cough to clear your throat, averting your eyes as you attempt to seem uninterested. "You're a little too late. I'm over you." You lie through your teeth, hoping he believes it because you were struggling to believe them yourself. Deep down, you know that you won't ever truly get over him, but you need to try to move on.

He stops in his tracks, his face briefly contorting with hurt. His eyes flicker over your face, searching for any sign that you're lying. Then, as quickly as the hurt appeared, it vanishes, and he's inches away from you, his arms caging you in. "You're lying," he states firmly.

You firmly press your hands against his chest, your voice slightly quivering, "N-No, I'm not!" The tremble in your voice betrays the emotions coursing through you as you apply more pressure. It's been months since you've been this close, and the sudden proximity sends your senses into disarray, leaving you feeling utterly disoriented.

Yet, everything about him remains unchanged; from the musky scent you've grown so fond of, down to the comforting warmth that still emanates from him, a warmth you continue to crave even on these darkest of nights.

His breath gently fans across your face as he leans in closer, until your chests touch. "Then look at me when you say it," he murmurs huskily, his words carrying the weight of a shared secret between you both. His gaze lingers on you, and his features soften as he takes in the tension etched across your face. "Look at me."

It's not a trance. It really isn't. He no longer holds sway over your emotions or actions because your heart has found its place, firmly back in your chest and out of his hands. You've taken control of that all by yourself. Nevertheless, you can't help but respond to his command, your breath catching as your gaze locks onto his mustard-colored eyes, your heart quickening as you notice the unmistakable intensity in his dilated pupils.

Your lips are just centimeters apart, on the verge of touching, about to share a single breath. One part of your mind warns you that it might be a bad idea, while the other part insists that you miss him dearly, and a brief moment of connection wouldn't cause any harm; you can part ways afterward.

You bite down on your lip, fighting the urge, and murmur, “No…” Your eyes remain glued to his lips, torn between desire and caution. You can’t let this happen. Entangling yourself in his web of lies would be self-destructive. It took what felt like an eternity to heal from the figuratively scars he gave you.

"No?... You're not listening again," Neteyam grumbles, his accent growing heavier with each word. He lets go of the tree, cupping your face with his large, warm hands, urging you to lock eyes with him again. "Now, say it," he presses, a mix of frustration and longing in his gaze, searching for your response.

You part your lips, all set to utter the words as your focus returns, but an inexplicable lump forms in your throat, choking your voice.

He waits for just a moment, his mind already determined on what comes next, but he does so with a bated breath, hoping you won’t utter the words he dreads. It’s clear that you’re stronger than him, evident in how you’ve rebuilt yourself after your last encounter.

He'd go to any lengths to prevent that from happening. Getting over his previous love became more manageable after he sorts out his feelings, partly thanks to the distance and you. Yet, if he has to remain here, watching you move on right before his eyes, getting over you will be an agonizing process. He's prepared to do whatever it takes, even if it means begging, to avoid that.

Your silence stretches on, becoming almost unbearable, and Neteyam's patience finally gives way. He leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that's not as gentle as he'd like it to be. His kiss is passionate, a raw expression of all the intense emotions coursing through him, a desperate attempt to convey just how much he wants you, and only you.

You fight it at first, not wanting to give in but your lips mold so well into his and they feel so soft against your own that you cave. Instinctively you turn your head to deepen the kiss and he takes your submission as an okay to slide a hand down your back and tangle the other in your hair so you’re flush against him.

Ewya you missed him. Every part of him. Down to his braids that always wack you in the face to the mischievous glint in his eyes when he’s caving into Lo’ak antics. Is it even possible to miss someone this much when they’ve been so close to you this whole time?

You grunt when your back hits the tree again, with more force than before. It was enough to knock you back to your senses and your mumbling against Neteyam’s lips before pulling away and placing a steady hand on his chest to stop him from chasing yours.

“Kehe…” you huff firmly, trying to catch your breath. What was he doing? Trying to literally take your breath away? He was on the right track if he was. “I can’t be with you.”

He only hugs you tighter, cradling your head in the hand still in your hair, “Why not? I know you still want me. Don’t do this. I want you too… I need you.” he pleads, leaning in to kiss your cheek, then several times again, hoping to distract you from continuing this conversation when he can be showing you something better.

“I can’t stand you.” you blurt out, naming one reason why this can’t move on. It’s only a half lie. You can spend all your days staring at him, his beautiful patterned smooth skin and luminescence freckles that littered his body. He was art in its purest form. A rare shell you can only find at the bottom of the ocean in a dozen eclipse.

But you couldn’t stand him all the same. He played you, like a wind flute and he had no remorse when he tore you down. He can’t just show up when he had time to mule over his mistakes and comes to terms with his heart. As a warrior—no, a man—he should have had enough courage to tell you how he truly felt before you let yourself get in too deep.

He hums, showing he acknowledges your statement before mumbling, “I know…” as he trails from your cheek to your neck, licking a strip up your pulse, which he found easily due to your heart rate. He plants a kiss before attacking it, sucking hard enough to leave a bright, purple bruise.

Your body tense automatically at the strange sensation, your eyes squeezed shut as you bite your lip to stop the moan from leaving your lips. Your body may be tense, yet it arches off command to get closer to him.

If he knows, then why is he kissing you and handling you like you’re already his? It was embarrassing, leaving you feeling shame when it’s him who should after what he did and what’s he doing now.

“I hate you.” you continue, opening your eyes to peer up at the night sky, the stars shining brightly—it’ll be wonderful to relax under it but instead you were being ambushed by a persistent ex-someone.

He breathes out a chuckle, finding your words amusing as he continues to assault your neck with more marks of claim, “You don’t.” he replies matter of factly, shaking his head and causing his braids to tickle your shoulder. He jerks your head back enough for him to move on to the other side to apply the same treatment.

The tug causes you to whimper slightly, it is both pleasure and pain, but the pain wasn’t physical—at least not in that way. “Yes, I do.” you insist, thankful he’s holding you so securely as he does or you’ll surely collapse to the floor, wishing in that second that it’ll swallow you whole.

He pulls away just enough to look you in your eyes, his own a shade darker than normally, “You wouldn’t still be here if you did.”

His words cause you to freeze, eyes wide again at the realization that he was in fact correct. All you had to do was tell him no, tell him you really didn’t want this and walk away because even though he was a manipulator as recently discovered, he still held some honor. He had sisters, he wouldn’t take it that far if you didn’t want to.

Which brings you back to this moment, why can’t you seem to do just that?

"I understand," he whispers, placing a tender kiss on your forehead. "I know I need to work to earn your trust back." He presses his lips softly against your nose. "Consider this a promising start." He concludes with a gentle kiss on your lips, expressing his sincerity in a less intimidating manner.

He leaves you breathless once more, and you allow it, letting your emotional barriers crumble to expose the heart that still longs for him underneath. Your heart races in your chest, and you wonder if he can feel it against his own—if they beat in unison, if you affect him as profoundly as he affects you. Just this once, you wish for him to share your nervousness.

After a few minutes, he breaks away, his lips parting, both of you slightly out of breath. Though it might not have matched the intensity of your first kiss, you're secretly flattered by the thought that you have an effect on him, even if it's more subtle.

Before long, he returns his attention to your body, his lips finding the front of your neck, coaxing you to tilt your head back again. He showers you with kisses and gentle nibbles as he travels down to your collarbone. When he playfully nips at it, you can't help but emit a mixture of a whimper and a hiss, to which he responds with a low chuckle.

His hand, previously entangled in your hair, loosens its grip, and the one resting on your lower back joins it on your hips, softly caressing your skin as he continues his downward journey. Although the angle is slightly awkward, he doesn't seem to mind. His lips trail along the edge of your top. You observe his every move, a sense of anticipation growing within you as you wonder what he’s going to do next.

As if he's attuned to your thoughts, he lifts his gaze to meet your eyes just as his bottom lip brushes over your nipple from beneath the revealing top. The sensation makes you jump slightly, and your nipple responds by stiffening. You resist the urge to hide your face, feeling a tinge of embarrassment. It felt really good. It shouldn’t feel that good with him of all people.

His ears perk up, his interest piqued by your body's reaction. He repeats the action, gradually applying more pressure with each brush, making you squirm and proclaim that it's not enough. "Stop," you frown, "Quit teasing me. You have no right."

He apologizes with a kiss to the center of your chest. "I couldn't help it," he says, "Your reactions are adorable, they drive me crazy…." He trails off, running his hands up your back, fingers toying with your straps before loosening them and letting the top fall to the ground.

He pulls back slightly, gazing at you in a way you never thought he would. "You're so beautiful, yawne. How could I have been so blind? Forgive me, however long that takes."

You're completely lost for words. Despite all the different sides of Neteyam you remember from before you both went your separate ways, you can't recall a time when he was this gentle—even when you thought he was already at his gentlest with you.

It makes your stomach flutter with shimmyflies. If this is his way of trying to earn your forgiveness, you won't be able to remain headstrong for long. It won't be long before you're putty in his hands once again.

"I refuse to listen," you stammer out, closing your eyes to avoid looking at him. Your body may have yielded to him, but you won't entertain his lies. You don't have to pretend there's something more. Right now, you only need one thing from him, and it doesn't involve much talking.

"That's fair," he mutters, "I deserve that." Leaning forward, he playfully sticks his tongue out to gently lick your right nipple. "I won't talk anymore, I’ll show you…" he concludes before wrapping his mouth around it and giving a fervent suck. His action elicits a shuddering exhale from you as you arch your chest forward and weave your fingers through his braids, pulling him closer.

A deep groan reverberates from his chest as you secure his hair firmly, keeping him in place. He proceeds to suck, lick, and nibble, to the point where drool starts forming at the corner of his mouth. His breathing becomes ragged, his hold on you tighter and you can only imagine the tightness in his tewng.

It doesn’t take much for you to imagine the wetness forming in yours. You can feel it, moistening the fabric right at the center. With each passing second, it grows even wetter as he continues to suck, teasing your nipples until they border on a pleasurable ache. Soon enough, he switches to the other side, repeating the tantalizing treatment; one of his hands slithers up your body to keep your other company.

With a gentle pop, he pulls away, lightly pecking your puffy nipple before gazing up at you from beneath his thick lashes. Neteyam seems like he wants to say something, as evident in the way his jaw slackens, but he quickly closes it, perhaps recalling his earlier words. Instead, he averts his eyes, focusing once more on your breast before trailing down your body, mirroring his descent as he settles on his knees to align with your navel.

His hands find your hips, but they don’t stay there long when one confirmation curt nod from you has him untying your tewng, joining your top on the ground. You shiver slightly, attempting to squeeze your legs shut as the cold air hits your glistened lips.. Neteyam doesn’t allow you to succeed, choosing to grab your inner knees and keep them open.

There’s this primal, cloudy look in his gold optics as he stares at you for a moment too long before he leans in to give a long, drawn out lick from your hole to your clit. Your breath hitch when the pressure on your clit was oddly aggressive and moan as that one lap turns into many messier laps.

As he presses firmly against your lips, any concern about his ability to breathe fades when his tongue delves into your trembling heat. The rhythmic brush of his nose against your clit dispels any lingering worries. His groans intensify with each movement of your hips against his face, his gaze alternating between your expressions and the mesmerizing sway of your breasts.

He could spend hours savoring the taste of you, never growing tired. Your intoxicating scent sends him into a frenzy, he’s humping the air as thoughts of you consume his mind. He was suffocating, yes, but in the best way.

Neteyam’s hand skillfully guides your leg over his shoulder,, the new angle making it easier to fuck his face as his tongue reaches deeper. Your hips move almost instinctively, driven by the mounting tension in your stomach; you're close and Neteyam knows it or he wouldn’t be guiding your movements to go faster, mouth open as he eagerly awaits to taste every drop you offer, his tail thrashing behind him in anticipation.

Moments later, sensing your need for an extra push towards the edge, he plunges two thick fingers into you down to the knuckle with a curl that has you throwing your head back and creaming all over them.

It required every ounce of restraint to prevent his name from slipping out amidst the sinful moans escaping your lips. Despite experiencing the most amazing head you’ve had, you cling to the last shreds of your sanity, refusing to reveal his name.

Your breath catches, your fingers tightening in his hair as the overwhelming sensation of him slurping your juices clean threatens to overstimulate you. Despite your attempt to pull away, Neteyam remains steadfast, only relenting once he’s finished. As he withdraws, he licks his lips and rests his head on your thigh, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

"I hope that was as enjoyable for you as it was for me," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin as he steals a glance at you, his ears perked. "It was hard to stop; you taste like something forbidden."

"You're speaking again..." you grumble, your stomach twisting uncomfortably at his words. "What did I say?"

Neteyam chuckles, rising to his full height and pressing his chest against yours. Your leg, previously draped over his shoulder, now finds a resting place at his hip. “I was thinking about that while I was…” He pauses, lip curling as he observes the flushed pout on your face. “And I realized that whether you listen or not, talking is better than silence. Although there wasn’t much silence from you just moments ago.”

You hiss, anger and embarrassment mingling as you bare your teeth, your ears pressing flat against your head, “Is this a joke to you?!” Were you, even now after what you’ve done together, a joke to him?, you want to ask, but the potential answer makes you hesitate.

“Have you truly not been listening?” he responds with a question of his own, his tone earnest. “I’m here with you, finally… showing you how I feel, expressing all this because I need you.” He tilts his head, his eyebrows furrowing as he locks eyes with you. “Only you,” he adds with unwavering conviction.

Damn it.

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it!

Don’t you crave, (Name). Don’t you fucking dare. Remember the pain, the hurt, the tears, and the loneliness he put you through. How you weren’t even his first choice, how some good head wasn’t equivalent to love.

You swallow thickly, your voice catching in your throat. "What does that mean, Neteyam..?"

You’re stronger than this.

Without hesitation, he responds, "I see you... hey..." gently guiding you to meet his gaze when you attempt to turn away. "I see you, always have, always will. What do humans say? 'Till death do us part'?"

Damn it.

You burst into laughter, a deep, genuine sound that reverberates through the air, and playfully smack his shoulder at his amusing choice of words. "Enough," you protest with a breathy whine, feeling the heat rising from your neck to your cheeks. "Humans have such strange ways with words."

Neteyam nods, acknowledging your point. “You’re right. Death wouldn’t stop me. My love for you will endure even beyond death,” he affirms, sealing his words with gentle kisses to your lips. “Please, tell me you feel the same,” he requests softly, pulling back to search your eyes. “I need to hear it from you.”

Gazing at his lips, you contemplate whether to voice your feelings or not—though, in truth, you already have. But saying it again, what if this was just a dream and it would end like your first confession? After a moment, you meet his gaze squarely, "I still feel the same. My feelings never left," you affirm softly.

His shoulders relax as he exhales deeply, his eyes softening and smile becoming more relaxed as he firmly grasps your other leg, prompting you to wrap your legs around his hips. He presses you back against the tree, his pelvis pressing against your bare pussy, you can feel just how hard he is during this whole confession, "You have no idea how happy that makes me," he confesses, pulling you even closer.

"Hm..." You playfully arch an eyebrow. "Judging by your tweng , I'd say very happy... perhaps we can make each other even happier."

[biocrafthero]

Prompt: You are a literal god who pretends to be a d-list superhero. You’ve grown extremely attached to the people of the village you protect. You get news that an epic battle is taking place near your village and would most likely destroy it…

———

You've never really been the flashy type, admittedly. Even if your domain contains immense powers—rot and decay, notably—you prefer to exist under the guise of the "Bone Mage." It sounds silly, but you embrace it wholeheartedly, even if your fellow gods laugh about it.

You don't do anything special with your powers, simply carrying around a sack of bones you found laying around in the forest in order to construct things. Sometimes you make the strangest weapons your enemies have ever seen, and other times you animate small constructs that resemble the various critters you adore. It doesn't require a lot of effort on your part, but it keeps your chosen village at peace and scares off any villains-of-the-week that happen to stumble across it.

You have history with this place, a history you would never admit to. A small shrine that sunk to the bottom of the old well, a relic that has been standing for over 200 years. You would rather not be held on the pedestal of a deity, but you can never turn down a gift.

Right now, in this moment, you simply exist as a strange man who lives in a shack on the outskirts of town. A wooden mask hangs on the wall for when you're called to action, and your shelves are filled with various things that the local population has given to you as thanks. You wear gloves to hide how your skin slips from the bone—just one of your various physical oddities that accompanies your nature.

You're happy here; it's a thought you commonly have as you sip on your coffee during these cold autumn mornings. You turn on your radio to the news, adjusting the antenna slightly while you listen.

"-- Here we can see the Soaring Spade taking another blow from the Dark King's newly-forged blade. The battle looks nasty, but we can trust our dashing hero to pull through--"

Ah, more of this again. Soaring Spade is the fresh-blooded hero from the city, and Dark King is an old colleague of yours who went rogue. The two of them are probably having a rough time picking each other apart right now.

"You best get away from me, young one!" The Dark King shouts—he's always been like that, loud enough for the newscasters to hear him, his presence commanding. "The Helm-splitter will cleave you!"

"Not if I pry it from your hands, villain!" Soaring Spade shouts back. Their voice sounds young.

"They go in for a swing," the newscaster commentates, "and--"

A bright flash of light comes from the window. The earth shakes, and you nearly fall out of your chair.

After gathering yourself for a moment, you rush to the window and look outside, only to see a pillar of smoke bellowing from one of the city's skyscrapers, a wake of rubble leading away from it and through several blocks. You can't help but stare with widened eyes at it all.

"They were blown east, and with such force!! So this is the secret that the Dark King's weapon holds!"

You hard heard in passing that he was up to something, but you had no idea it was something as devastating as this.

"The Dark King is now chasing after Soaring Spade!" The newscaster turns away from the mic; "We need a better angle, try following--"

Something shoots out from some of the far-off trees, closer than you expected. Is that...?

Quickly, you take your mask off the wall and grab your sack of bones, rushing outside. You see a speck off in the distance, Soaring Spade rushing back to the city with their power of flight. A glint of light comes from the sky nearby them—

Another bright flash. You feel the wind rushing past you this time, but you hold your ground. Soaring Spade slams back into the earth.

The direction they're headed in, at this speed and power... You feel your stomach sink.

Quickly, you rummage through your collection, grabbing enough bones for a small construct. You animate it in your hand, and instruct it to run to the village and warn them. It leaps off of you and scurries off, heeding your commands.

You run in the direction of the battle.

You cannot recall the last time something like this happened here, if there had been anything at all like this before in the first place.

Weaving your way between fallen trees and scattered rocks, you arrive at Soaring Spade's impact site. They look up at you in confusion, groaning as they attempt to sit up.

"Who... who are you supposed to be...?" They ask.

That's right, most A-list heroes haven't heard of anyone below a C before. "They call me the Bone Mage," you answer.

They let out a pained laugh, trying to muster a smile. "You picked that name yourself?"

You simply shrug in response. "It just kind of stuck," you say. Approaching them, you help them up off the ground. You take notice of how they're bleeding and how they clutch at their ribs. Their flashy costume is torn up.

A loud slam resounds nearby, the Dark King making his entrance as dramatically as you remember. His black armor glints in the sunlight, and the great sword—the Helm-splitter—radiates with energy.

"I won't let you get away from me," he says, "not when I'm this close to victory." He twirls the blade in his hands like it weighs nothing.

"You'll never win...!" Soaring Spade spits back. They try taking a step forward, but stumbles; you catch them before you hit the ground.

The Dark King turns his gaze towards you. "You... you must be one of those nobodies I knew, back when I used to be for the light!"

You would feel offended at him not even remembering your name, but that's the least of your concerns right now. "Look, I just need you two to stop for a minute and take this somewhere else at the very least—"

"No!" He shouts. You can hear a helicopter approaching, likely the reporters you were listening to earlier. "This is my fight, and I decide where it takes place!"

Soaring Spade needs medical attention immediately, and you really need them both away from your little village as soon as possible. Your eyes travel to the Helm-splitter.

"Where did you even get that sword, anyways?" You ask.

"Oh, this?" He says, lifting up the blade to display it to you. "I forged it myself, the process a thousand years old, the weapon itself imbued with magic! Isn't it such a work of art?"

You can't help but glare at him. He likely found methods scouring around the ruins of an old cult that worshipped one of your fellow gods. The weapon itself isn't godly, thankfully—weapons can only attain that status and power if they're made by a god themself—but the method to create it was probably derived from it. The hero in your arms would not survive another direct blow from it, and the village you protect would be obliterated.

You gently set down Soaring Spade. "What... what are you doing?!" They ask you with concern in their eyes.

"Don't worry about me," you tell them. You place your sack of bones on the ground, as well—you're probably going to need both hands for this.

The Dark King laughs at you. "Ha! You're going to challenge me? Someone as simple as yourself should be thinking of your own skin instead."

"I'm not," you say, straightening out your back. "I told you to leave, and you refused. I will defend this place."

"Then die for it!" He yells. Raising Helm-splitter above his head, he rushes at you, and brings it down.

You catch it in your hands.

The force and weight of it makes your knees buckle and it cuts holes in the palms of your gloves, but you hold it in place. Your eyes glow through the holes of your mask.

"Wh... what?!" The Dark King gasps, bewilderment in his tone.

You push the blade away from you, forcing him back. He looks down at the blade, and back up at you. "That's impossible..." he mumbles. "You shouldn't... you couldn't...!"

"You really need to learn about the people you decide to fight," you say, taking off your gloves. "You could never pick your battles."

"No mere mortal could stop the blade, not even the person who forged it themselves!"

"That's too bad." You stomp your feet on the ground as you leap into a casting stance, your collection of bones flying out of the sack and swirling around you.

A large construct forms, and rushes towards the Dark King. He raises his sword, spending out an arc of energy towards it in an effort to defend himself. The bones scatter, but quickly reform the beast's body.

This isn't anything special, just something to buy you time. You remove your gloves—you might as well, since your hands are already showing through the holes—and assemble a two-pronged spear in your hands.

You reach out to puppet the construct; it shifts into a serpentine form and begins to coil around the Dark King, who holds his sword so that he may attempt to strike its head.

He holds still for a moment too long, and you throw your weapon.

Your aim is straight and true, and it catches him by his waist. The strength you throw it with carries him through the trees, cutting through the wood effortlessly. A shockwave of air blows against you like a storm, and you look to Soaring Spade to check on them as it rushes past you. Their eyes are simply transfixed on where the Dark King once stood, frozen in absolute shock.

When the wind settles, you command your construct again, this time so that you may stand upon it. It brings you the whole distance to the struck-down villain, slithering and snaking it's away across the ruined trees and boulders.

Upon arriving, it deforms back into its miscellaneous parts, hovering around you. The spear you threw keeps the Dark King pinned to the ground; he looks up at you with fear in his eyes. You pick up the sword that sits just out of his reach.

"What... are you...?" He struggles to get out.

"I'm nobody special, honestly," you say, adjusting Helm-splitter in your grip. "I'm just a D-list hero who wants to protect their village, nothing more."

Focusing your energy, you channel your power through your hands and into the blade. You hasten it's decay, rust eating away at it and growing across its body like ivy—the power that courses through it crackles and sparks. After a moment, you snap it in two without much effort. The energy that once radiated from it dissipates instantly, and you drop it to the ground.

The Dark King stares at the now useless piece of metal with widened eyes, before shooting up to look at your rotten hands. "You... you can't..."

"I can't what?" You say, walking towards them. "Cant do that? Can't beat you?"

"You can't be..."

You crouch down next to them, holding your face close to theirs. "I can't be human?"

He cowers.

You can't help but laugh. "What would give you that idea?" Looking up, you still see the news helicopter from earlier flying overhead; you give them a small wave. "I told you to leave, so I'm making you leave. I'd rather not be bothered again on a nice morning like this."

You stand up, leaving the Dark King pinned to the ground. The police will come in and arrest him shortly, even if you're a bit far from the city right now.

It's... tempting to go all-out on him right now. You could decay more, you could decay him, but you'd rather not with all these eyes on you. Your domain is powerful, but you are also merciful.

Something begins to rush towards you, and you hear the wind it causes before it shows up. Turning, you see Soaring Spade making their way over. They begin to tumble a little, and you prepare to catch them; thankfully, they stick the landing by your side.

"You're really in no state to fly right now," you say.

"I'll be fine, I've had worse injuries before," they try and reassure you, but you have a feeling they're lying. They look at the Dark King, their expression unreadable. "I'm impressed you beat him so fast! You sure you're just some nobody?"

You shrug. "I'd prefer to keep it that way, honestly..."

"Well, suit yourself! If you want to, I can send in a good word for the agency that sponsors me."

"No, really, I'm good." You can't help but appreciate their generosity, though.

They look towards your hands, eyes widening. "Are you okay...?" They ask, gesturing at your rotting body.

You hide your hands behind your back. "It's just... a side effect of how I got my powers."

"Ah, I see. Happens to the best of us, I suppose." The look off into the distance, before turning back to you. "You said you're the Bone Mage, right?"

You simply nod.

"Cool! I'll keep you in mind if I'm ever in the area, since you seem like a nice guy. I bet whoever you're protecting must adore you."

You smile. "I guess you could say that."

———

Original publish date: April 26th, 2024

Ko-Fi (tips appreciated but never expected!)

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Keep Out Of This, Sensei

Scene Rewrites/Taryn's Birthday Celebration 2024

Scene: Minato stops Kakashi from killing Obito

Words: 1,549

For: @mintehz

The world is still spinning after using Kamui to transport himself back into the midst of the fourth great shinobi war. Focusing on one object is difficult, but Kakashi doesn’t worry about seeing his target. 

He knows where he is because of the connection they share through the Sharingan and the body pressed under his legs. 

His target is dead ahead. All he has to do is strike. 

Pulling his arm back he bared his Kunai, ready to put an end to all of this. 

To save the Obito he remembers from the Obito he’s faced with today.  

The spinning begins to slow and finally he can see where he needs to strike.  

“This ends now,” he growls out, his fingers gripping the Kunai in the white-knuckle hold.   

“Kakashi-Sensei!” He hears Naruto call out to him, but he ignores. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hear what his student had to say to him, but that he couldn’t.  

He’d made up his mind. Obito had to die, or the entire world would burn because of his anger. Being the one to end Obito’s life might break him even more than he already was, but that didn’t matter. 

The world was in danger. His feelings couldn’t interfere. 

Sitting there, he stared down at the man who’d been brave enough to smack him when he was eleven and remind him of everything that his father had tried to teach him before his passing. For twenty years he’d treated Obito’s memory as that of a hero, someone who had done great things and saved countless lives, and the entire time Obito was out there in the world. He’d been alive the entire time, mercilessly killing others and working towards a dream that would put every living human into an infinite, inescapable genjutsu.  

Aiming for the neck, he held the Kunai steady. 

He’d spent his time in the Kamui dimension thinking about how to finally put an end to this horrendous version of the man he’s once called a teammate. There was only one answer he could come up with. 

Stabbing him through the heart hadn’t worked, but perhaps separating his head from the rest of his body would.  

Even Lord First’s cells couldn’t heal an injury like that.  

“Kakashi!” Minato appeared at his side, his hand reaching out toward Kakashi, but before he could a fist connected with his cheek. In an instant Kakashi had seen his dead sensei arrive and then watched from the corner of his eye as his best friend punched him in the face. 

Any other day He would be shocked, perhaps even upset with Gai, for striking the man who he called sensei and who the village looked up to as a hero. 

Today, though, he was thankful for the interruption to his Sensei’s plans. He’d have to make sure he thanked Gai properly after everything was said and done. For now, he needed to deal with more important matters. 

“What are you waiting for?” Obito sneered, taunting him to go through with his plans. 

The problem was, this wasn’t the Obito he’d fought just a little while ago in the Kamui dimension. His taunt felt emptier than anything he’d said to Kakashi before, and although he looked like a man who wanted to pick a fight Kakashi couldn’t help but notice a hopelessness hiding away in his eyes. 

It was as if everything Obito had been fighting so hard for when they faced off had disappeared. 

Kakashi shook away the thought. It didn’t matter if Obito had changed his mind, the damage was done. 

Minato-Sensei, Kushina, Neji, and so many others. All of them were dead because of Obito. All of their lives had been cut short while Kakashi had been busy looking back on his memories of obito and treating him as a hero when in reality he was prancing around the world making everything worse in hopes of achieving a selfish dream.  

“You,” his fingers ached but he only tightened his grip on the Kunai. “You were supposed to be better than me. Then everyone!” 

“I didn’t ask you to put me on a pedestal,” Obito spat. “The only thing I ever asked of you was too pro- “ 

Slamming the Kunai down into the ground beside Obito’s head, he watched as Hashirama’s cells got to work healing the cut on his cheek that had been put there when the Kunai grazed against his face. “I did more than you!” He spat back. “I did more for Rin, for Konoha, for this world, than you ever have or ever will! I put everyone ahead of myself, including you, and you turned around and put yourself first!” 

“I am trying to save the world!” 

“You’re trying to save your own heart”! pulling his arm back, Kakashi closed his fist and struck. The crack of his fist connecting with Obito’s face echoed through the air. “If you wanted to save people you wouldn’t kill the innocent! You wouldn’t have attacked a village full of civilians who have never done you any wrong! You wouldn’t have taunted Naruto with Neji’s death! Nothing you have done has ever been for anyone but yourself and I am sick of acting like it was!” 

“Rival…” A hand settled on his shoulder, offering a silent support while he stared down at the man he’d once mourned.  

“I lived those words,” he whispered. “They became my entire being. ‘Those who abandoned their friends are worse than scum’. I said them to my students and teammates trying to get them to understand them, and I got them from you. If I’d known…” 

He’s not sure anything would have changed. 

He still would have clung to those words because they had become his belief not just because of Obito, but because of his father. 

Even now, staring down at the man he’d copied those words from, he couldn’t bring himself to let go of them. They were no longer Obito’s words, but his own. He’d been the one living them and trying to pass them onto others so that the world they lived in could be better than the one he’d grown up in, and while he was doing that Obito was doing the opposite. 

He’d turned his back on his own words in pursuit of a plan that would strip everyone in the world of their free will and force them into a ‘perfect dream’. A dream that none of them had asked for. 

A dream that Kakashi didn’t want. 

“This world is imperfect,” he whispered. “It’s just as broken and disgusting as you said. Children are forced to fight, shinobi manipulated into murdering their own clans, and endless wars being fought by pawns of a system that doesn’t care about them. All of what you said was right.” 

“Rival,” 

“But” he continued before Gai could stop him. “This imperfect world is far better than a lie. A dream that will never be a reality. I would rather live in a world where I’m forced to see Rin’s blood on my hands every day of my life, than being put into a world that will never be more than a lie. I can do more for this crummy, broken world alive than I ever can stuck in a dream.” 

As he spoke Obito watched him. The sneer had vanished from his face as soon as he’d punched him, but nothing had replaced it. He simply stared up at Kakashi with a blank expression, listening to him speak. 

“You want to change this world?” he asked. “Then fight with me and help me change it for the better, because nothing is going to change by putting the world under an infinite genjutsu. Nothing will get better. Rin won’t come back from the dead and tell you that everything you remember is just a terrible dream you had,” grabbing his Kunai once again he pulled it free from the ground and gathered himself back to his feet. “Here’s your chance to choose,” holding his free hand out to Obito, he waited. “Do you want to help me put an end to this and make some real changes to this shitty world, or do you want to continue laying there crying over everything you have lost while the world burns around you?” 

Staring at the offered hand, Obito frowned. After a moment though, he sighed and lifted his left hand to meet Kakashi’s. “I want to stab Madara at least once,” he grumbled under his breath as Kakashi pulled him to his feet.  

“You can stab him twice for all I care,” Kakashi shrugged. “As long as we put an end to him and this stupid plan.” 

“It’s not- “ 

“It is,” Gai interrupted, stepping up to Kakashi’s side and resting his arm on his shoulder. “But we’re going to fix that. Right Rival?” 

“Right,” Kakashi nodded. “Now, I have a plan.” 

Motioning for the other two to come closer, he leaned in and began explaining. He wasn’t sure how well they would do in a battle against Madara, given how easily he’d been able to defeat the five Kage, but with his best friend and his old teammate at his side Kakashi was certain they could face anything. 

Even a god tier shinobi like Uchiha Madara.  

[voltronisanobsession]

Yandere Fujisaki/Father with Reincarnated Reader

NORAGAMI OBSESSSSIOOONNN 😜😜😜

This has been sitting in my drafts for a minute but UGH I CANT GET THIS OUT OF MY MINDD

I’m feeding what’s left of the fandom😔💔

I don’t write a lot of yandere stuff on here. maybe occasionally I’ll write something but it’s hard to characterize characters with darker intentions

NOT WITH FUJISAKI/FATHER THOUGHH

He would make such a perfect yandere ESPECIALLY if we put in a reincarnated reader

For the sake of making things easier, imma refer to this dude as Father

Father had to have known you when he was once alive, before his death, to be attached to you

Whether you both shared a romantic or platonic relationship, his obsession with you is the same

Controlling and suffocating

Before his death, you guys traveled together

You’ve accompanied him wherever he went, always having that perfect smile on your face if yall ever faced a problem

He appreciated your positive attitude, seeing as he had a more nihilistic approach on most things

You accepted his views of the gods above, even if you didn’t quite share the same feelings

You fully believed things happened for a reason, even if they aren't ideal

He’d be extremely protective of you and would often shelter you from others as he believed you were a bit naive

He made it known that he didn’t like it when you spoke to people of the new village you arrived in

Besides himself and Kaya, who had saved you both from the nearby river, you wouldn’t get much interactions from others

To keep him placate, you would more often than not keep quietly to his side

Father cared deeply for both you and Kaya, enjoying the time you all spent together scouting for food

Everything had been fine for many months

That is until yours and Kaya’s untimely demises. Everything goes downhill from there

For centuries, he’d hold onto the memories and grudge your death had left behind

I think this would be when his more darker side comes out, that even after death, he holds you on such a high pedestal

Father would tell stories of you to both Mizuchi/Nora and Yato. They both knew to never interrupt him when he spoke of you, lest they wanted to feel his wrath

They both knew that even long after your death, he still searched the entire country for you

So imagine Father's shock when he sees your sweet face one sunny afternoon

He'd be coming back from school as Fujisaki had to attend, but would only stare starstruck at you from across the street

You had sat on bench looking over your notes from your classes and failed to realize the stare burning onto you

Consider your fate sealed after this honestly

He'd slowly yet surely integrate himself in your life, whether you wanted him to or not

You don't have a say anymore, not after you left him for so long

With no hesitation, he would drag you into the spirit world

You would have the sight to see beyond regular humans, to see the ayakashi hidden from human eyes

It terrifies you, especially because you cannot defend yourself against these monster

Which is why Father RELISHES whenever you beg him to protect you from the corrupted souls

He actually uses this against you whenever he can, if your disobeying him or if you're fighting back too much for his liking

Since you want to leave so bad, go ahead. He won't stop you. Let's see how far you can get though. After all, you're just a mortal on the verge of death without him

You'll die if he isn't around to protect you. He makes that known whenever you have to be without him.

Father would send Mizuchi to look after you whenever he can't

She follows whatever Father says, even scaring you a bit whenever he feels as if you're getting too confident

She pretends to be your friend, but I think reader is smart enough to know she'll always be on Fujisaki's side

Mizuchi enjoys unsettling you, always appearing from the darkness and whispering in your ear

She doesn't understand what her father sees in you, but if you're important to him she'll accept it, for now

After all, she does get quite jealous whenever Father's attention strays from her

He is honestly so cruel to reader im so sorry

He spends hours breaking you down trying to get you to remember your past

To remember everything he does

He will not accept the fact that you're a different person now. You are still the same from when he remembered you, and if he has to train you to behave the way you did before, then so be it

I feel like your only saving grace MIGHT be Yato or if you were a devoted follower to a God before being taken by Father

Yato might help you, just a little bit, but he won't outright help you escape

Unless you request his service to do so, then he's obligated to help you as a delivery god

But he doesn't enjoy messing around with anything regarding his father

He keeps his distance but pities you

If you were a devoted follower of a god though, you might have some 'angels' looking over you

Perhaps this god felt a looming sense of danger hovering near you and decided to take pity on you

You would be blessed with a protective item, maybe a necklace or a bracelet! The protective blessing put on the item you wear will protect you from any physical harm, it's honestly the best thing you could have at this point

It's your last hope to have faith and to stay strong

To not let this man crazed by time destroy and ruin you

Father enjoys seeing how you still have some fight left in you

He admires it dearly as it reminds him of the past

You may try as much as you want though, you're not going to be escaping him anytime soon

He'll make you remember him one way or another

OMG

He would TOTALLY take you with him whenever doing some dangerous shit

Like if Yato was planning on hunting him down, boom

You'd be there as a human shield for Father

Father knows Yato would never hurt an innocent human like you and uses it to his advantage to make dramatic getaways

[nocturnalfandomartist]

♥️ Zelink Sketch + Headcanon Dump ♥️

(Part 1)

(LONG POST WARNING)

Yes. I know I have already posted something for Valentine's Day. No one can stop me. So here's some sloppy sketches!

BoTW/ToTK Zelink is one of my favorite versions of the ship. They and SS Zelink are the most likely to have gotten together after the story, and they just have been through so much together! Not to mention a certain lyric in Kass's song regarding Zelda's power... Here are some little headcanons I have for them. :)

• Considering the state of Hyrule Castle, Link has let Zelda stay in his home in Hateno Village. She reveals it was his house to begin with, which likely resulted in a lot of frustrated rambling from Link that he had to buy his own house back...

• Zelda has frequent night terrors that she is still with the Calamity, holding it back as she replays the deaths of her loved ones in the back of her mind. When this occurs, Link usually is awake anyway and goes to comfort her. Although he has his memories returned, sometimes he finds it difficult to find the right words since he feels like a different person entirely.

• Despite Link's outward change in demeanor and the worry it initially would bring to her, Zelda realizes he's still the same Link that died in her arms. The only difference now is he no longer has such a heavy burden on his shoulders. And with that being the case, she's quite happy for him.

• Zelda spent a lot of time thinking about what the Deku Tree told her when she returned the Master Sword to its pedestal. Perhaps she's waiting for the right time to say what was on her mind... Or perhaps she already has?

• Zelda is a bit too... Experimental with cooking elixirs. Link encourages this, even if it makes him die a little inside whenever she makes dubious food instead. He'll eat it anyway.

The duo that accidentally got themselves for eternity. Whether they realize it or not, they doomed themselves to always meet again regardless of how they may part. This would probably make them overjoyed, though, if it weren't for all the suffering their new destinies may come with. Some more headcanons:

• Link likes to carve little wooden statuettes for Zelda on special occasions, and she likes to sew things for him. Perhaps she's made him a crimson cloak like the Chosen Hero in the manga by Akira Himekawa?

• Zelda may sometimes have trouble keeping a grasp on herself with suddenly having all of Hylia's lifetime in the depths of her memories. Link never says it directly, but he takes every action to remind her that she's still their Zelda.

• Link confessed his love to Zelda on the statue after they decided to remain in the surface, using a similar buildup that she did while they were riding on their loftwings at the beginning of SS.

• All of the Links and Zeldas after them are reincarnated forms of them in some way. This headcanon is also why I ship these two at every given opportunity. They will always reunite to save Hyrule, no matter what- but they will also reunite to find each other once again.

• Groose accidentally third-wheels a lot but they just allow it and let him hang around. They're all buddies, after all.

• Sometimes, they'll just sit outside and Link will listen to Zelda sing. Occasionally, he'll borrow her harp and play along with her song.

I know they aren't canon in the Child Timeline, but I can't help but love OoT Zelink. I like to imagine that somewhere in the LoZ universe, there's a timeline where Link refuses to be sent back in time and rather chooses to help restore Hyrule without leaving the one he saved behind. Usually, when I draw OoT Zelink, it's under this context. HCs:

• Link actually had a minor crush on Zelda during the events of OoT. They were just little kids, after all, so of course he found himself wanting to impress the princess when they met.

• After losing her own father to Ganondorf, Zelda is quick to comfort Link when he finally confides in her that the Deku Tree was like a father to him and the Kokiri before he withered. Some days, it is easy to think about what they lost and feel remorseful. But even so, they know they must carry on in hopes that the future for those after them is a brighter one.

• Link was going to return the Ocarina of Time, but Zelda let him keep it. Some days, when they aren't busy with restoration efforts, they'll play a duet. Zelda has even taught him some more songs.

• Zelda will occasionally teach Link the combat that was taught to her by Impa, usually techniques unique to the Sheikah Tribe. He finds himself struggling to be as agile, but he's trying. He thinks her skill is pretty admirable, at least.

• Neither is exactly talkative, but they aren't silent either. They balance each other out well in that way.

The children!!! Telink is adorable in my opinion, even if the pair may not be as outwardly affectionate as some of their counterparts. These little pirates are also super fun to draw! I already have a ton of headcanons with these two mentioned in a previous post, but here are some others:

• After the events of Phantom Hourglass, Link is a bit more cautious with going to explore random stuff they find. He respects Tetra's leadership, but he doesn't want to get her hurt (or turned to stone) again.

• Tetra tends to pick on Link, but every so often will soften up. Link hardly ever notices the shift, as this is just how the two are. They bug each other, sure, but they're the other's closest friend and trust each other more than anything.

• Link has convinced Tetra to stop stealing from innocent people, since it's a bad influence on Aryll when she's around. Tetra sort of made fun of him for it, at first, poking at him for not wanting to upset his grandma. However, she... Went with it, anyway, since he sort of had a point. They only steal from their enemies now!

• They have an ongoing arm-wrestling competition and rematches will start spontaneously and without warning. The victor changes so often that the rest of the crew has started betting on who will win at a given time.

• Tetra and the crew increasingly visits Outset Island more and more because they all think Link's grandma is really nice and they're all deprived of parental figures. This is nice and all, but every time they leave they find out Tetra has helped Aryll sneak into the ship (at Aryll's request) and they have to turn back around so nobody gets worried that she vanished. Tetra doesn't intend for Aryll to stick around, she just finds it funny.

Another personal favorite of mine, Spirit Tracks! These two are hard NOT to ship, with how much you can see them bonding over the course of the game. And the fact Link blushes almost every time she makes contact with him.

• These two are one of those pairs who very clearly have mutual feelings for each other, but no one can ever tell if they're actually together or even aware of these feelings.

• Link, while conducting, will occasionally drift off into daydreams about the next time him and Zelda will get to go on their own little adventure (although preferably not one with the world at stake this time). Alfonzo usually has to make him snap out of it and pay attention to the railroad.

• They like to make time to see each other, but if they can't in a given week for any reason they'll send letters to one another. Link's a little less literate than Zelda, but she manages to read his handwriting decently enough.

• Zelda is really affectionate. She's quick to high-fives, hugs, that sort of thing. Link doesn't mind, but he gets as pink as a rose quite often. Everyone finds him to be rather see-through.

• At Zelda's request, Link has begun teaching her to properly use a sword like she did as a Phantom.

Reblogging is fine, but please don't post this anywhere else without linking the original post. Thanks!

[okthatsgreat]

hi lee!!!!!!!! ❤️✂️🍎💀🍩🧠 for any oc yyou want to talk about YAYYY! :D

YAYYYYYYY HIIII LILY :333 IM GONNA USE SAE FOR THIS ONE I THINK !!!!!!!!!!!!!

oc ask game!

❤️ - what is one of your oc’s best memories?

URMMMMMMM. a lot of sae's best memories are really tame i think bhgfdghdfj just moments where she could sit back and say Yeah. I am Completely Happy :) BUT the BEST one i think is one she recounts a lot just bc she reallyyy felt like she had found peace. the fishing village near her afi's home holds a yearly festival for fisherman's day that she LOVEESSSS. and IF MY TIMELINE IS CORRECT she got an award i believe in 2012 (??) for her achievements and contribution to her community . and when the festival was over she got to have a long chat with her afi up on a mountain top overlooking the ocean and she holds that conversation very dear to her heart :]

✂️ - what is one of your oc’s worst memories?

(forgive me for being vague theres still a lot to be revealed in the rp hgdfjkggfdsjk!!) shes got a few but the WORST one she remembers suppperrrrr vividly just because everything seemed to happen all at once, the town she was living in was going through one of the WORST thunderstorms it had ever had, and she was seconds away from doing something SO rash . GOD awful day for a thirteen year old to have. BUT it was the catalyst for some major changes in her life, so while she would never go back and do that all over again sae can at least acknowledge that it switched what direction her life took DRASTICALLY. it led her to where she is today but that definitely doesnt mean she looks back at it with any sort of fondness gbhdgbsdf

🍎 - what is the oc's relationship w/their parents like?

her afi and amma were her legal guardians for the majority of her teenage years! and anybody within a five mile radius knows that she LOVES those guys. she takes so much influence from her afi particularly and holds him on a very high pedestal of how she should be behaving and what traits she should portray, just because he is an incredibly patient and wise man. her late amma also influenced her a LOT in terms of hard-work and dedication to others, and when she passed it only caused sae to work even harder to support her afi. not to mention sae truly considers her afi to have saved her life which means she feels she owes a LOT to him ghfdjkg

she doesnt speak with her parents!

💀 - does your oc have any phobias?

she isnt DEATHLY afraid of anything but she gets concerned over superstitious things that arent necessarily a problem to other people lmaooo. like for instance she does NOT fuck with bananas because they are considered terrible luck on boats. she rarely sails on thursdays, took the lucky charms off of her fishing hat and placed it around her waist just so the hat won't fly overboard again, never renames a boat, etc. ALL because she doesnt want to invite bad luck on her ship fghsjd

she's also really not a fan of loud noises!! thunderstorms have a tendency to freak her out but it really depends on the day honestly. catch her in a good mood and she can manoeuvre a boat through them easy peasy, catch her in a bad mood and she'll just sort of stare at the floor unmoving for a bit

🍩 - who is your oc's arch-nemesis or rival?

LMAO sae would never admit out loud that she hates anybody enough to consider them an arch-nemesis or rival. ESPECIALLY pre killing game. now does she dislike people? for sure. is this killing game definitely taking a lot of her pent up resentment and making it ten times worse? definitely

🧠 - what do you like most about the oc?

guy that tried so hard to escape the cycle that she is slowly turning into the very thing she was attempting to run from 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍 she is NOTTT breaking the loop

[theobligatedklutz]

Not gonna lie I struggled with the idea of a Black man taking up the mantle of Captain America for a long time because of the negative connotations that the shield holds (Isaiah calls it a "white man's shield") and the fact of the matter is that America stands for a long history of Black slavery and the erasure and rejection of Black lives and legacies ("Them stars and stripes don't mean nothing good to me"). So why would any Black man –especially one so determined to learn about people and find the right solutions (in a world where the wrong solutions are always so much easier) like Sam Wilson– want to take up that shield?

We see Sam struggle with the same idea when he holds the shield; "Feels weird. Picking it up. The legacy of that shield is complicated, to say the least." And even Bucky acknowledges it; "I don't think [Steve and I] really understood what it felt like for a Black man to be handed the shield." So Isaiah Bradley really hit the mark in saying "they will never let a Black man be Captain America and even if they did, no self-respecting Black man would ever want to be."

But ep 6 changed a lot of things, made me realize that Sam Wilson isn't trying to fill Steve's shoes or mold into America's image of who Captain America should be. He isn't an avenger, he's an amender. He's no super soldier, he's a normal human being fighting for justice and he likes it that way, even though everytime he goes out there, he's vulnerable. And most of all, he's no star-spangled man, he's the Black man who's of service to those who have been wronged in the past, present and future. He is the voice of those that are sooner murdered and vanished from existence to quiet them than heard and given justice. I never saw Steve Rogers stand up to the country senates and show them how wrong they are in their judgements but Sam Wilson did that. He actively showed the minorities that he'd stand for them. Steve Rogers could never do this because this man was white and blind (as much as it hurts to hear, no white man on a high pedestal and blindingly privileged as Steve Rogers could stand for people he cannot personally, psychologically or physically relate to) and he was "blonde hair, blue eyes, stars and stripes" and he was the "great white hope" that the world was chasing (which might as well be the comparative equivalent of "the great America dream"). He could never understand the Black experience, people of colour or any minorities for that matter. Not like Sam Wilson can.

Sam said it best and honestly, I would've applauded if I wasn't watching at 3:00 in the morning; "I'm a black man carrying the stars and stripes. What don't I understand?" This punches you right in the gut, shows the audience and the people that the man holding the shield now knows them; (he may not know every experience but he knows how it feels to be helpless and to struggle because of his colour). "Every time I pick this up, I know there are millions of people out there who are gonna hate me for it. Even now, here, I feel it. The stares, the judgement. And there's nothing I could do to change it. Yet I'm still here. No super serum, no blonde hair, no blue eyes. The only power I have is that I believe we can so better." And this– god this, the fact that he uses his newfound wisdom, erased injustice he's learned and understood (from Isaiah) and that he's a man willing to keep learning and growing to make the world a collective village and America a place for the people who built and shed blood for the country despite the hate and disrespect he'll be getting for it just stuns me.

This is a man not carrying the legacy of Steve Rogers, this is a man carrying on the legacy of who could've been the Captain America if he wasn't brutalized and erased, he's carrying on the legacy of Isaiah Bradley. And I'm excited to see him break away from navigating his identity just through Isaiah and create and carry his own legacy and identity in the future (whatever the future may be) but man, do I want them to explore the Black roots of America and the wreckage of colonization and slavery as well because that's what Captain America should be about: The injustices to POCs, Black people and minorities of America (and the world) seen firsthand through the eyes of a hero.

With all said and done, I'm so glad to finally say that Sam Wilson is and always will be my Captain America (and I'm in the first row screaming "Nice job, Cap.")

[lubdubsworld]

Blackberry Winters.

PART 1 🌸 PART 2

Namjoon Werewolf Au!! 

Pack Head Alpha Namjoon and mate OC!

Arranged marriage sort of?

Pack dynamics / strangers to lovers. 

Part 3

“You did not think to tell him no? To demand that you had every right to stay there?” Her mother in law looked disappointed ,  eyes trained on her as Jiah carefully pulled the blouse of the tunic down over her tummy, frowning when she realized that it didn’t do a thing for her figure.

She felt self conscious, the grey cotton of the tunic making her feel drab and lifeless. Why did she always choose clothes in colors like this? Why did none of them fit her right? Why did she never make an effort to look at least a little good. Her hair was limp, a mousy brown and while it was thick, it had no luster… Why didn’t she use one of the hundred powdered mixtures the village healer liked to give the younger women?

“Jiah, are you listening to me?” Namjoon’s mother said sharply and Jiah jumped a bit, guilty.

“I didn’t want to be a bother..”  She said nervously, not sure how to handle her mother in law. On the one hand she seemed to be understanding of her many hang ups, but she also looked impatient and upset, anytime Jiah failed to stand up for herself.

Lady Kim drew herself up to her impressive height and Jiah cowered. She’d hung around enough pack bonfires to recognize that stance and that gaze. The woman was about to give her a piece of her mind.

Sure enough, her voice thundered when she addressed her.

“If you keep viewing yourself as a bother, I’m not sure how others will begin seeing you as anything else. You’re the head alpha’s mate. Your place is by his side, helping him with the crown on his head. It’s not a choice. Your duties are not mine and I am tired of doing them for you.” She snapped.

It stung. Guilt churned and Jiah could feel the beginnings of one of her episodes. The ones that always left her shaking and breathless. Much to her surprise, Lady Kim’s gaze softened at that and the next second she was being drawn into a warm embrace.

“Good lord child, why are you so terrified? Has my family not been kind enough to take away this stark terror out of your veins?” She sighed deeply. “You must not let your fears dictate your life. I want you to live your life, pleasing the person you’re bound to .”

Jiah felt her shoulders sag. Please the person she was bound to.  Of course. Namjoon. It all came down to the alpha wolf. And how was she supposed to please him, if he couldn’t bear to be in the same room as her?

“Yourself.” Lady Kim’s voice, laced with amusement made her jump.

Jiah frowned, pulling back to look at the older woman in confusion.

“You’re bound only to yourself , Jiah. You need to please yourself. To do and be the person you want to be. And then everything else will fall into place.”

Jiah watched as the woman went back to the door, calling for and directing a few more workers as they finished setting up the outer courtyard of her living quarters. Still a little chilled, she grabbed a thick coat from the small cupboard by the door, draping it over herself and tying it together with the sash. She moved quickly to the door, watching her mother in law talk to the workers, looking them straight in the eye , firm and clear in her instructions.

It was fascinating.

Lady Kim’s stance fairly vibrated with power and her voice brooked no disobedience. People looked at her and listened. They saw someone who knew what she was talking about and many a time, Jiah had felt it herself, the comfort of someone reliable. Someone who wished no ill on anyone.

Namjoon’s mother had lost her husband at a young age. Namjoon had scarcely been a babe of two when it had happened and the entire pack had expected the young wolf to lose his birthright as the heir. It was unheard of for a mate to take over the head alpha’s duties but Lady Kim had risen to the occasion with an elegance that had stunned everyone. The woman had met pack leaders and settled disputes, had negotiated boundary conflicts and made elaborate plans for new buildings , all while carrying around a babe that was still fed at her breast.

What was more, she had defended her position against the men who had wanted to usurp it. Mnhyuk and Jaejoon were two of her husband’s cousins, eager to sink their fangs into the woman to mate her, just to be able to get their hands on the pack. They were terrible men , even worse wolves. Their ideas on how the pack ought to be run dripping with archaic ideals and oppression of women.

But Lady Kim had humiliated them, told the whole pack in no uncertain terms that the next pack alpha would be Kim Namjoon. Her son would be raised to rule the pack with kindness and understanding and she would make sure of it.

The tales were told with hushed tones of disbelief and admiration and Jiah had listened to them with hunger and aching. Had felt such a huge surge of affection for the matron , had wanted to hug her and tell her she had done a great job.

And standing here as her daughter in law, she realized that she would be a fool not to listen to her. Not to learn from her. Especially when it was obvious that in the entire pack, the only one who didn’t seem to hold Kim Namjoon on a pedestal, was ironically his own mother.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ They’re going to challenge you again. I can feel it.” Taehyung said gruffly, dropping the bundle of scrolls on the table and Namjoon flinched, head throbbing.

“That bad?” He asked hesitantly and Taehyung nodded.

“They want you to re-negotiate that treaty about courtesans owning property. Think it would make them quit the profession… if you let them own stuff” Seokjin said quietly and Namjoon bristled.

“They are no different from any of us. They work for their pay too. Why shouldn’t they be allowed to do what they wish with money that they’ve earned?” He demanded angrily.

“You’re a good man Namjoon. A fair one. And you’re striving to build a pack that treats all it members as equals . Obviously people who thrive on abusing their power aren’t going to like that. Especially Minhyuk and Jaejoon’s pups. Those two are terrible.”

“You should accept their challenge and just rip their throats out someday.” Taehyung said firmly AND Namjoon gave him a glare.

“I’m not going to shed blood without cause, Taehyung. Don’t suggest that. Even in passing.” He said firmly and the younger beta bowed politely in apology.

“Where is Jiah?” Seokjin asked casually.

Namjoon glanced at him, brows raised.

“Since when are you so familiar with my mate, hyung?”

Seokjin rolled his eyes.

“She used to come sit with me, when I watched over the herds on the outer pastures. Sweet little thing really. Very funny too.”

That made Namjoon pause.

“Funny?” He asked, completely confused.

“Witty. She would make these clever little riddles and jokes that would always leave me in stitches. We made a game of it. I would give her one of my funny jokes and she would give me a riddle. Is she feeling better now?”

Namjoon who was still kind of struck dumb by the idea of his cowering, reticent mate doing something as…. Normal and friendly as laughing and being witty….. could only stare at Seokjin in confusion.

“I…. Yes. She’s well. We’re expecting a pup.” He said softly.

Both Taehyung and Seokjin went still.

“What?!!! Why didn’t you say that first?!!” Taehyung exclaimed, offended.

“It’s not that important…” Namjoon waved it off, reaching for the scrolls , “ what about the treaties, then? You did tell Jungkook we aren’t changing anything right?”  

Seokjin scoffed.

“ Only you would say that these treaties are more important than your own pup.” He snapped.

Namjoon sighed a bit at that.

“I don’t mean that. I’m just saying, what she needs now is to rest and take care of herself and the baby. I’m not what she needs . I’ve arranged for her to stay in some private quarters with the other women.”

Seokjin sighed deeply. After years of being one of Namjoon’s trusted friends, he could feel his heart ache for the younger and all that he hid from the people around him. He reached out and gently placed a palm on Namjoon’s shoulder.

“ Namjoon, you don’t have to do all of this by yourself. Tae and I , we can take over duties a couple of days a week… You can relax… Maybe spend some time with your new wife….”

“She hates me.” Namjoon said softly. “ I spent a whole month trying to talk to her, all she did was tremble and shake. Even when we…” Namjoon exhaled sharply, “ Even in bed , she made me feel like I was some kind of…. Predator.”

Taehyung bit his lips, looking worried.

“You’re not… You’re not going to break the bond are you?” He asked nervously.

Namjoon sighed.

“I’m not. I may have considered it, before . But now… She’s with pup. I can’t do that to her. I don’t want to either.”

“Why did you pick her?”

Namjoon stayed quiet.

“Because you wanted a wife who wouldn’t ask or demand or complain.” Taehyung said distastefully.

“That’s not… You make it sound so terrible. I’m supposed to be taking over pack duties, supposed to renegotiate every single treaty we’ve drawn in the past twenty years, not to mention get the entire pack ready for the winter…. Of course I wanted a wife who would adjust. Have you seen the omegas in our clan? The ones I could court ? They want to leave on trips… They want to visit the neighbouring packs…. They want me to arrange festivities and feasts for every damn thing…. You think I can marry someone like that??” Namjoon snapped angrily. “none of them understand a damn thing about helping me out. They’re shallow and vain. Jiah… I chose her because she didn’t seem like one of them. She seemed like she could understand what it means to be my wife. But I was wrong. I thought she understood my responsibilities and was giving me my space…. Turns out she just thinks I’m some kind of monster she needs to run and hide from.”

Seokjin reached out, patting his back soothingly.

“Namjoon I understand… It’s been hard on you, and you’ve been doing all of it by yourself. Its bound to take a toll. And that’s why I think you should take a few days off, a week. Give us all the instructions. We’ll carry it all out. You can relax.”

“That’s exactly what my uncles want. For me to slack off. They’ll summon the council and want to challenge me again. I can’t afford it. “ Namjoon shook his head.” Not until the babe is born and my position as pack alpha is solidified. I can’t let them use this against me.”

Seokjin and Taehyung exchanged looks.

“Joon-ah….”

Namjoon gave both of them a tired smile.

“I’ll be fine hyung. It’s going to be okay.”  He said reassuringly. “ The council’s meeting tomorrow right? I’ll try to go over these tonight.”

“Its already past sundown.” Taehyung said worriedly.

“Then I better ask the maids to keep enough oil for the lamp to last.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What are you doing here?” Namjoon blinked, staring at her like she was out of her mind and Jiah flinched. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. But the sight of him made something curl in the pit of her stomach. He looked exhausted. Like he had been up all night. She wondered if perhaps she ought to retreat. Go back to the private quarters he’d arranged for her.

No. No , you will not chicken out of this.

“ You have a council meeting, this evening. Could I come with you?.” She said softly, watching his face carefully. She tried to read his emotions, tried to look for traces of irritation or anger but all she found was a sort of hopeless resignment. Like he had stopped trying to fight whatever was bringing him down.

“Come with me….?? ” Namjoon stared at her like he wasn’t quite sure what she was talking about.

She inhaled sharply.

“Your mother told me I could go. As your mate, I’m allowed to sit in on council meetings. She told me it’s a new provision. That you were the one who had it written in. So perhaps, you should… let me come with you.”

“My mother-“ He paused, sighing. “ You don’t have to do everything my mother asks you to.”

She blinked, the words throwing her off. The truth was, she had been the one, tailing the older woman all day, trying to see what she did and how she did it. Lady Kim had merely offered to help her do her duties. She had mentioned in passing, that for centuries , mates hadn’t been granted many rights of their own. Namjoon had spent the past couple of years making a lot of amendments to pack laws and the council hadn’t taken to kindly to all of them.

“ Of course. I just thought that, as I am your mate , perhaps I should accompany you. ” It was a miracle, the way her voice came out, steady . Not at all betraying the nervousness coursing through her veins.

“Jiah…. I’m not sure.” His voice dripped with hesitation and she flinched. Oh, well, no one could blame her for not trying.

“If you don’t want me there, that’s fine.” She said quickly.” I’ll go…”

She turned around, feeling her face burn red as she quickly descended the stairs to the courtyard.

“Jiah wait!!” His voice made her still.

She turned around swiftly.

“I didn’t mean to imply that I did not want you there. I just….Council meetings aren’t short. They tend to go on for hours. Will you be alright?” He asked gently, gaze dropping surreptitiously to her middle.  

It took her a minute to understand what he was even talking about.

“I… Oh.” She quickly pressed her palms to her stomach, confused. “ I mean… I may have to be excused a couple of times to relieve myself. I’ve been doing that way more often than usual.” She laughed.

Namjoon’s lips quirked in a hint of a smile and she flushed. Surely, her stern mate didn’t want to hear about her body functions? What was she even doing…

“But, yes. I wouldn’t mind sitting with you. Truly.” She said quickly.

Namjoon nodded.

“Well, then. You can come with me. It’s an hour before sundown… I’ll come fetch you myself.”

“Yes , alpha.” She said brightly, curtsying lightly and immediately feeling like a fool.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“They’re called red feathers …” The healer, a middle aged woman called Selma,  opened a small earthenware jar to show her the contents. Jiah peered into the jar, catching sight of a bundle of dried flowers and roots.

“These can help me…?” She asked dubiously and Selma gave a quiet chuckle.

“They help you sleep better and also help you relax. They’re good for you. You won’t feel this anxious if you take them regularly.” She said calmly.

“Oh… alright.” Jiah nodded, glancing carefully at her mother in law who was standing elsewhere, looking through an assortment of salves and tinctures. “ Can I…. is this safe for Namjoon?”

Lady Kim stilled, turning around to glance at her sharply and Jiah stiffened. God, her impulsive mouth. She wasn’t even sure why she said it. Just the whole , helps sleep better , had immediately reminded her of how tired Namjoon had looked.

“I’ve already tried to get him to drink some of it. He refuses.” Lady Kim said tiredly. “ He feels that it may affect his mental faculties”

“Auntie Selma?” A high, soft voice rang through the hut and Jiah glanced up. She went still, catching sight of Jisoo, dressed in red velvet and all of her ornate jewelry.

“Ah… Jisoo…you’re back.” Selma said cheerfully. “ How can I help you child?”

Jisoo stared at her, eyes steady and unreadable.

“I need some wild carrot seeds and ginger roots.” She said softly and Lady Kim scoffed.

“I hope the man you’re taking into your bed is not who I think it is , Jisoo.” She growled. The younger woman merely bowed.

“I’m but a courtesan, my lady. I go where I am asked to.” She said softly.

Lady Kim sighed.

“Then perhaps you should go back home. Now.” She said sharply and jisoo flushed and ugly red.

“Your son wants me to visit him for tea , this evening. I was hoping to meet my lovely lady there…but I hear you no longer stay in his hut.” Jisoo turned to her, tone dripping with acid and Jiah swallowed nervously.

“I… I’m…” She couldn’t quite talk, much less think of something to say.

“Because she is with child.” Lady Kim said sharply, a hint of triumph in her tone. “ Namjoon’s child.”

Jisoo had gone paper white, her face pale and bloodless.

“What?” She whispered.

“It’s true. She carries my son’s heir. You know what that means, Jisoo. It means they are bound, for life. I like you. I respect your courage and admire your talents. You are beautiful and you deserve a mate of your own. Do not pursue my son.” Lady Kim said firmly.

Jisoo didn’t respond for a few seconds.  

And then she bowed again .

“Like I said, my lady. I only go where I am called.” She said quietly.

She turned on her heels, stalking away and Jiah could only stare after her, heart pounding a bit at what had just happened. She wasn’t sure why she felt so much disquiet. She’d never had high hopes of fidelity from Namjoon. The entire village knew that Jisoo had been his paramour. But now that she had seen how dismissive the younger girl was of her, she felt the unaccountable urge to fight back. To stake her claim.

“You look pretty upset. Don’t let her bother you. Namjoon will not break his vows.” Lady Kim said quietly and Jiah gave her a soft smile, although her heart still raced. She remembered how pretty the girl had looked in all her brocades and velvets. She stared down at her own murky yellow dress. She couldn’t go to the council meeting, dressed worse than a courtesan. Couldn’t embarrass Namjoon like that.

“ My Lady….” She turned to her mother in law. The older woman hummed, returning to examining the shelves.

“What is it, child?”

“Can we stop at the seamstress’ hut on our way back?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whatever Namjoon had been expecting, as he knocked on his wife’s private quarters, it hadn’t been this.

He stared , or to be more accurate, gaped at his wife, completely thrown by her appearance.

She looked…. Cheerful.

That was the only word he could think of, taking in the warm yellow and green fabric of her gown, all with an abundance of ribbons and lace. She had also clearly made some effort to tame her hair.

Not a very successfully attempt, considering the dozen strands sticking out of her bun and curling over her bare neck and shoulders …..but an attempt nonetheless.

Which reminded him.

Why was her neck bare?

“I…. have you forgotten… part of your dress…?” He asked awkwardly, gaze trained on the pale, blemish less expanse of skin in front of him. Too much of it was on display he felt.

“Oh?” Jiah twirled about for a second, glancing at herself. “ Not at all, my alpha. This is how it is.”

Namjoon blinked.

“Right… the night is getting colder. Perhaps a shawl?” He suggested tactfully.

Jiah frowned, sticking a hand out of the door as though to the gauge the night air.

“Really? Feels quite warm to me.” She said thoughtfully.  

“It may be cold for the baby.” He said quickly and that made her pause. She glanced back down at her tummy and he wondered what she expected to see, every time she did that.

“Perhaps you’re right alpha….let me be back.” She floated back into the hut and he sighed in relief when she reappeared with a white fleece shawl over her shoulders.

“Shall we go ?” She asked quietly and he hesitated before slowly offering her his arm. She gripped it lightly, and they began the short walk to the main village square where the council usually convened.

“You… You’re better adjusted to this place now?” He asked carefully, trying to find the girl he had taken to his bed. The terrified, nervous , trembling young girl.

Jiah didn’t respond at once.

“I… I’ve been drinking some of Selma’s potions. They help.” She said quietly and he frowned.

“Potions? Potions for what?”

“They help with my nerves. I get scared easily…imagine things ….” She trailed off nervously.” I’m very anxious by nature and it gets worse in a new place. With new people.”

Namjoon considered that carefully. That made sense. Perhaps, that was why she had been so odd.

“The potions help?” He asked carefully and she nodded.

“Yes…that and your mother.”

“My mother?”

“She’s very kind to me.”

Namjoon laughed a bit at that. In all the years he has had people talking to him about his mother, the word ‘kind ‘ had never come up.

“ I’m being honest….she has helped me adapt to this place. To see how things are run. I… I don’t want to be a bother. I want to pull my weight. In the pack. To help in any way I can…”

Namjoon felt a sudden unaccountable fondness bloom in his chest at the innocent words.

“ That’s very virtuous of you.” He said seriously and she flushed.

They didn’t say anything else, continuing the rest of the path in companionable silence Namjoon spotted the seven council members gathered around a blazing fire and lightly stepped closer to her.

“You can stay close to me. You don’t have to answer them.  If they try to draw you into any controversial topic, just ignore them. I’ll handle it.” He said quickly.

Jiah gave him a wide eyed, nervous look but nodded quickly, fingers moving from his forearm to his palm , linking with his own and gripping tight.

“I’m here. You’re not alone.” She said quickly and it was ridiculous, how the words actually helped him relax just a little.

Taking a deep breath, he led her on to the meeting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : i thinks its about time i accepted that this is a full blown fic and not just a drabble. fuck my life. 

Note : Red feathers are actually herbal medicines used as anti depressants. So this is just werewolf au equivalent of therapy. 

[never-mess-with-the-uchihas]

Best SasuSaku Moments in the MANGA

Best moments in Novels

Best moments in Anime(Boruto)

I NEVER IN MY DREAMS EXPECTED Sasuke to share something so SACRED between him and Itachi (the brother he loved more than anything else in the world) with Sakura, or anyone else for that matter.

This was one of the most important gestures in the entire series. And the fact that Sasuke shared this with Sakura, immediately after being released from prison, and before leaving for his redemption Journey, further proves that even though they were apart for so many years, and were enemies in the past years, Sasuke never stopped having that special place in his heart for her.

.

Lol, Sasuke, weren't you trying to cut off your bonds? Why did you have to do one of the sweetest things you have ever done, to break your bond with this person?

There was no need for him to listen to her words and confession when he was about to leave the village. There was no need for him to give her a soft shy smile, and Thank her for loving him, But Sasuke went out of the way and did all these this things. And he wouldn't have bothered if she meant nothing to him.

.

"Sakura... Who did this to You!?"

This was the moment where I got to know how important Sakura actually was to Sasuke.

Naruto was lying unconscious right beside him - but he reacted to Sakura's injuries. Because He can't see her hurt. And it was not simple killing intent. He was only focused on Sakura's injuries and repeatedly asked her who hurt her. But Sakura on the other hand was too focused on Sasuke's marks and his darkness consuming him. And her touch and tears were able bring him back to consciousness, and get out his Rampage-Mode. LOL Until this moment, I had no idea that Sakura had that much effect on him.

.

Sasuke calls Sakura someone dear to him and was even willing to die protecting her, which would mean that he had to give up on his revenge - which meant more than anything else to him.

And then he caught her, and laid her down softly, looked at her with soft and tender eyes, and asked Pakun to take care of her.

(Can You make Uchiha Sasuke any more caring?? :p)

Sasuke catches Sakura in Root Dimension

We don't know what he was thinking in this moment. Why did he catch her in the first place? And why did he keep holding her for longer? Just few moments ago, He himself said that He wouldn't have minded if she fell into the lava, in the other dimension. But now, here He is, not even willing to let her fall on ground.

But that's not all... Why was he looking so intensely in Sakura's eyes? It couldn't be because she saved him. Even Karin and Kabuto saved him from the brink of death many times, But he never spared them even a second glance. What's so different about Sakura?

Lol Sasuke, Your words and Your actions, don't go hand in hand. XD.

.

Sakura confesses to Sasuke for the 2nd time.

This was when Sasuke was still in darkness. But still Sakura's words were able to shake him. He turns back with sad eyes and a sad smile and calls her annoying again. For making him shake in his resolve. Even if just for a moment. This was important because words never worked on Sasuke. Even Naruto needed to blow off his arm(and his own) to bring him back to senses.

Also... Sasuke putting her in the harsh genjutsu was too much intense for the entire fandom. Also... What I fail to understand why did he even bother to listen to Sakura's confession and what Kakashi had to say about Sakura's emotions,in the first place. I mean, he could have just left. Why was he even trying to reason with Sakura's feelings.

.

"Sakura...I am..."

"Just Shut up for now. I am trying to concentrate."

*Sasuke's eyes softens up*

"I am Sorry..."

"Sorry, for what?"

"For Everything."

"You should be. You Jerk"

*Sasuke looks at her with sad and soft eyes.*

.

Sasuke had always kept Sakura on the same pedestal, that he kept Naruto on. Sakura always occupied Sasuke's thoughts whenever he thought of his good times and dear ones. She always had a place in his heart and thoughts.

.

Lol, I did a double Flip when I read this panel for the first time XD. I was like... Wait a moment... Did Sasuke just refer to Sakura as "MY WIFE"?... And when I was like - "Okay... That's normal.", He dropped the second bomb - "MY WIFE IS NOT WEAK".

If You can get Uchiha Sasuke to call you, "My Wife", in front of lot of people,AGAIN AND AGAIN, and defend you in your absence, and make HEAVY STATEMENTS like this for you, Then bro... You know he loves you.

.

Lol, This scene was epic.

First, because this made those SK shippers shut the fuck up up.

Second, Because Sasuke literally "low-key" confesses in front of Sarada, Choucho and Naruto, that he loves his wife, and Sarada was born because they made love. Never thought Sasuke would be so direct about these things XD.

.

Best SasuSaku Moments in the Novels

Best SasuSaku Moments in the Anime(Boruto)

[a-d-curtis]

Artifacts

“Uh…” Aang looked down at the dilapidated wooden bucket that was placed reverently into his hands. The man bestowing it sank deferentially into a low bow; his head ducked so deeply that all Aang could see was the back of the man’s thin topknot tied far back on his balding head. “Uh… thanks?”

Aang looked down at the bucket in his hands. The bucket was old; that much was obvious. Aang held it up to get a closer look. The metal braid that held the darkened, dried wooden planks together was rusted until it was nearly black. When Aang looked into the bucket, he noted that the plank at the bottom didn’t fit snuggly like it should.

“Do you want me to… um, to help you fix your bucket? If you soak this wood, the planks will expand tightening the planks, and I can straiten out that bottom piece for you… this isn’t very useful if we can’t get it watertight again. But I can always make you a new one, if you, you know… need a water bucket… or something…?” Aang trailed off as the gentleman rose slowly out of his bow, looking at Aang with a look of utter disbelief, as though Aang’s words filling him with dismay.

“What?!” the man sputtered. “Make a new one?! No, no! You must not understand! This is an authentic, an original, air nomad water bucket!” He enunciated each word as though only someone truly obtuse would not see this for the prize that it was.

“Oh, right…” Aang hedged, looking at the beat-up old bucket. “I see.”

Of course Aang knew what this was. He and his friends had carried buckets just like this to and from the stream near the Southern Air Temple everyday. Each monk child would carry one in each hand as they bounded back from the stream, anxious to deliver the water to the cook. It was a mundane thing, something that just needed to get done. The sooner they got through with that chore, the more likely they might be able to squeeze in a quick game of airball before breakfast!

Out of habit, Aang looked behind him, searching for Katara to swoop in and help him navigate this awkward interaction. But of course she wasn’t there, Aang remembered with a slight drop in his stomach that he had come on this trip solo. Katara was still back in Ba Sing Se, busy working on a new project for the museum. Aang didn’t plan to be here in this small village more than a day, so instead of pulling Katara away from her work to come with him as he wanted to, he simply opted to handle this little task alone.

Aang held up the bucket with an importance he certainly didn’t feel and declared, “Why so it is! This is… um, very… special.” He looked at the bucket again, biting on his lip at his choice of words. To him, this bucket looked anything but special.

But the man beamed with delight at Aang’s praise!

“Yes, yes, it is!”

The man in his enthusiasm took the bucket from Aang’s hands and turned it over excitedly. “See!” The man pointed out. “Right here! An Air Nomad symbol!” Again he spoke the words like they were wondrous. “Carved right here on the bottom!”

Aang bent over to look. Sure enough. There it was. Three Air swirls carved (rather poorly, Aang noted) in the bottom wood piece.

“Well,” Aang said, brightening up a little as he took the bucket back from the man. “that would explain why the bottom doesn’t fit!” Aang shifted his staff into the crook of his elbow and turned the bucket upside down under his arm and gave the bottom a firm pound with his fist, knocking the bottom panel right out. The man gave an audible squawk, his hands jumping over his mouth aghast as the piece of wood fell into the dirt.

But Aang kept talking as he picked up the bucket’s base and flipped it over, fitting it back into the bottom of the water bucket. “See we always put the symbol on the inside of the bucket.” After making sure the base was fit in more securely, Aang handed the bucket back to the man. “There! That ought to hold water a lot better now! I still suggest you soak the whole thing, but now it ought to do it’s job just fine!”

The man looked at the bucket shoved so casually into his hands with a gaping mouth for a moment. Then his words began to tumble out of his mouth. “Oh, thank you, thank you, Avatar Aang! Now I know: the symbol goes on the inside! Oh I wish my father was here to see! You see my father acquired this treasure on one of his travels along the Granite Trading Route when he was a young man, bought it off a peddler near Dong Shaan City. This has sat in a place of prominence in my house ever since! My father had a great appreciation of antiques; and he had quite a collection. But this was his most prized – his only genuine Air Nomad artifact!”

The man’s face sobered, his voice taking on a formal tone as he once again fell into a deep bow, holding the bucket out towards Aang reverently. “But I would like you to have it now, Avatar Aang. A way to return it to its rightful place, among its rightful people. It wouldn’t be right for me to keep it, when an Air Nomad still exists to return it to.”

Aang hesitated before taking the old bucket apprehensively. The bucket suddenly felt heavier, and he felt heavier too. Sure he had run into situations like this before, where people felt inclined to present him with gifts. But it was always the most awkward for him when-- like now-- they were gifts recovered from the Air Nomads: a set of long cooking chopsticks, a half-broken glider, a rare item of fragile old saffron clothing. But these items didn’t belong to Aang, and they held no significance to him personally. Like this bucket. It is true that it appeared to be a genuine Air Nomad bucket. But to him, it was just a bucket. Something they had used a dime a dozen when he was a child. A tool. Nothing sacred or important and certainly not something revered. What would he do now with a leaky old bucket?

Wish for a new one, probably. Aang answered his own question ruefully. One that held water better, I’m sure.

He knew Katara would probably be thrilled if she were here. She was always getting excited over every little Air Nomad trinket or knickknack they found. In fact, a new Air Nomad exhibit at the Museum of Natural History is what Katara was working on right now in Ba Sing Se. In addition to working as a consultant for the project, Katara was also donating a great many of the things she had collected to the exhibit, things she had gathered over the past couple of years since she and Aang had begun traveling together.

Aang never objected when Katara would accumulate Air Nomad objects, and he appreciated her enthusiasm. Really. He was touched by how important his heritage was to her. However, there was something about it that more recently had begun to bother him. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but Katara’s tendency to “collect” his people’s leftover things didn’t always sit right with Aang.

Maybe it was something about how collecting these “antiques” made him feel even more distant from his people; each item proof of how long they had been gone, how far removed he was from them. Proof that his family was little more than memories and artifacts now. These items served as a concrete reminder that his people were extinct, gone forever. It made it harder to just forget and pretend he was just on a journey right now. That the others were still out there, just not right here with him.

Aang imagined taking this man’s bucket back to the museum. He imagined it being put behind glass on a display pedestal. What would people gain from observing this bucket? How would a bucket like this make them feel? It certainly wouldn’t make them laugh remembering the time that Dhun got his head stuck in one of these buckets when he’d been showing off for the girls from the western air temple and fell head first into the custodial closet after tumbling off his glider. They wouldn’t imagine the taste of sweet exhilaration from that water fight Aang had started that time when all the kids had decided to dump their buckets on each other instead of delivering them to the cook (they also wouldn’t recall the feeling of raw hands after lugging one of these buckets up the northern chanting tower to scrub every, single, stair as punishment for their water fight.)

What would this bucket teach a common museum patron about Aang’s people? About who they were and how they lived and what they valued?

Nothing. It would mean nothing at all.

And seeing it on display would only solidify the cold, concrete feeling in Aang’s gut that he was also an artifact now. A remnant of a nation dead. And long since, at that. Should he be on display? Did he now fit better in a museum among his people’s remaining relics than anywhere else?

Maybe it was these unspoken apprehensions that spurred Aang to find excuses to leave the museum as often as possible. Aang knew that the Museum Curator would gladly have Aang take up a permanent residence at the museum if he could finagle it, just so the dry little man could pepper him with questions about his people’s agricultural practices, yearly migration habits, and gross national trade products. Katara’s project was a good one, but one that Aang found himself finding more and more excuses not to be a part of.

Aang hadn’t told Katara any of these feelings, so he knew he couldn’t expect her to just know. And sometimes he found himself falling into the same trap, getting excited or possessive of every scrap of his culture they came across. But lately he had been working extra hard, actively trying not to. This was exactly the kind of attachment his people had tried to avoid; placing value on something that was inherently temporary and unimportant.

Aang knew he couldn’t let go of his attachments to the people in his life – a spiritual flaw that he had long since come to accept about himself – but attachment to things was still something he still tried valiantly to avoid.

Aang looked up from the bucket in his hands at the man before him, his head still bowed, although he glanced up apprehensively, evaluating Aang’s reaction to his gift. Aang could see the sincerity in the man’s eyes, his wish to honor the Last Airbender with this gift. But there was pity there too. And maybe even a little guilt? A glimpse of the world’s collective shame at allowing an entire nation to be massacred.

Aang was used to these kinds of looks: looks of pity, shame, guilt. He had lost more than anyone would truly understand, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be pitied all the time for it.

Aang took a fortifying breath, and as he exhaled, he let go of the flare of resentment he’d felt. It was his choice how he would respond. Would he pity himself too? Or would he choose to live in the moment, accepting without clinging to the loss?

Aang smiled and moved the bucket handle onto his arm, and his glider into the crook of his shoulder so he could bow respectfully to the man. “What did you say your name was?” Aang asked warmly.

“Um, I didn’t say, but it’s Shao, sir,” the man replied as he looked self-consciously to the side, his shoulders still hunched in a bow.

“Well, Shao!” Aang said cheerfully as he wrapped his arm around Shao’s shoulder, lifting him from his bow and compelling the man to walk with him. “This is a really nice bucket—I mean a really nice genuine Air Nomad artifact. And I am honored by your generosity and your gift.” Which was true. Aang was honored that Shao would offer something that clearly meant so much to him. “Please consider your gift accepted and appreciated. However,” Aang stopped walking and turned toward Shao, placing the bucket back in his hands, “it would make me happiest if you would keep it. Remember your father when you look at it. The Air Nomads, we gift this back to you.”

Shao looked at the bucket in his hands, stunned before a glow began to lighten his expression leaving a large smile radiating brightly on his face. “Thank you, Avatar Aang! I, and my children, will treasure this forever!”

Aang clapped Shao’s back heartily before walking backwards several jaunty steps.

“Or maybe just get yourself a drink of water with it,” Aang winked before opening his glider and lifting lightly into the sky, flying light and free, unburdened. Remembering his people by being one.

Just a Nomad on the wind.

………………

Other works in this series:

Chant

Incense

[sirenutsukushi]

Wanted by Foxes ; Kita’s Route

InariKami!Kita Shinsuke x Female!Miko!Reader

Summary: People sometimes say the Gods are good to good people, and who were you to disagree? You have been blessed by the gods all your life, serving them in return for their gifts and your good fortunes. Bad things don’t happen to good people, so why were you being chased down by one of the men from your village, and why was he so bent on hurting you. Only thing you can do now is pray, pray for the Kami to save you.

Warning: This story contains elements of attempted non-con, slight gore, possessive themes, suggestive content, non-consensual restraint, attempted physical assault and harm, and other possibly triggering topics. If this upsets you it is advised you scroll past.

Reader Discretion highly advised.

Quiet gasps passed through soft lips, fly away hair sticking to your forehead, zori sandals smacking against the soft wood of the temple floor. You kicked them off, letting them clatter to the ground as you ran, socks sliding across the polished flooring.

Don’t catch me. Please— don’t find me!

You repeated like a mantra in your mind, hand flying to cover your mouth as you ran out of the temple offering room, across the stepping stones in the zen garden, and into the honden. Staring at the beautiful golden statue of InariKami-Sama, you felt at ease for a moment. But it was shattered by the sound of loud footsteps. Wincing, you turned to run, but could only scream as a hand roughly grabbed your wrist.

“Not so fast, little one- we’ve got unfinished business, remember?” The man sneered, grinning down at you like a feral beast. You thrashed in his grasp, bringing your unrestrained arm up to punch at him. He grunted, holding your hands above your head before throwing you to the floor. Pinned down, face pressed against the soft wooded floor you cried out for help as the man behind you tied your wrists with your own hair ribbon.

“Just stay still, Yowainari.” He hissed your family’s name like it was venom, and your heart dropped. “W-… why are you doing this?” You gasped out, fear evident in your voice despite you doing your best to hide it. “Yer family isn’t exactly beloved, Priestess. All ya lot do is act like yer better than us, with yer constant praise towards the kami, disgust for those ya see as under ya. Ya get to live in nice houses, a big estate. A lot of ‘s don’t think it’s fair. ‘Nd yer a pretty little thing, aren’t ‘cha… yer not married yet. ‘A bet it’s ‘cos ya see everyone as beneath ya, huh?” The man spit, irritation lacing his voice as one of his hands left your bound wrists.

A quiet sob left your throat when he spoke again. “Tell ‘m, where are yer stupid kami now?” You opened your mouth to speak but didn’t get a word out before the man screamed, no, shrilled in agony and terror. You winced, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to shut out the noise, unable to cover your ears due to your bound hands. Trembling, you lay there as something ripped your attacker to shreds, the gurgling, screaming, sounds of flesh being ripped from bone and sinew snapping against the fangs of… something. There was silence after, save for the soft padding of feet against the floor. You lay there stiffly, unable to look over from your position on the floor. You could move freely if you wanted, with your attacker no longer holding you down.

You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to face whatever had attacked the man. “Atsumu, Osamu. Enough.” A soft, yet masculine voice spoke, instantly calming you. The tranquility, it was something you’d only felt when praying or cleaning the golden statue you’d come to love. You shook yourself from your thoughts when a pair of zori clad feet stopped in front of you, grey hakama pants brushing above the floor. You glanced up, (e/c) doe eyes filled with unshed tears, a few slipping down your soft cheeks.

A male stood in front of you, foxish amber eyes soft as he looked down at you, kneeling to untie your bound wrists. His touch was gentle, and as he freed you from your restraints, you were able to get a good look at him. The man before you had to have been a yokai or something of the sort, with his sharp eyes and the fluffy looking pointed ears a top his head, red marks upon his cheeks beneath his eyes. Nine fluffy tails twitched behind him, the fur of his ears and tails a snowy white with smoky grey and black tufts. He was either a kitsune or an inari, that much was clear. The attire he wore was similar to the wedding kimonos worn by men, but he wore grey hakama pants, and the haori draped over him was a simple black color, with a faint, ombré smoky design trailing up a few inches from the hem and sleeves. A pair of hanafuda earrings hung from his pointed ears.

The male pulled your trembling body up from the floor gently, before tugging you softly into his chest and whispering soft words of comfort in your ear. Bringing your hands up to clutch at the fabric of his haori, you felt at ease again. As if you had met this man before. He seemed so familiar. “W…who are you?” You mumbled against him, and he grinned faintly before pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head, the lotus and wisteria scent of your hair invading his senses. “Don’t tell me ya don’t remember me. Ya pray to me every day. Inari-Kami Kita is what ya mortals call me. Although, I prefer Shinsuke.” His voice was like honey, sweet, flowing delicately from his lips, he spoke with an accent… Kansai dialect. Your eyes widened faintly.

“You’re… inari-sama—“ You turned your head to glance at the statue, but it was missing from its pedestal. The shimenawa and talismans lay around the pedestal, along with the incense bowl. “H..why?” You speak breathlessly, glancing up at him with wide eyes. He hums, running his fingers through your soft (h/c) locks, his amber hues seemingly glowing down at you. “I don’t know… for some reason… Yer the first human I’ve felt this way for. I couldn’t let him get away with what he did to ya.” You shivered at the feeling of his breath tickling your skin, as he leaned his head down.

“After all… only I can touch ya like that… pin ya down like that. I should reward ya, for being such a devoted little Miko.” Shinsuke whispered heatedly in your ear, nipping at the flesh of your earlobe with a grin. The marble haired man was quick to scoop you into his arms, a foxish grin tugging at his lips, his sharp canines glinting in the light of the red paper lanterns. “And what better a reward than to make ya my bride?”

Notes: Yeah— I’ve definitely been in a Shinsuke mood lately. I’m especially weak for Kitsune!Inarizaki as well so this was definitely a self indulgent scenario. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed reading it. It’s a little darker than what I usually write but I had fun doing so. I’ll be working on the rest of the Wanted by Foxes/Wanted by Yokai fics as well as the third chapter for The Gods are Always Watching, and will have some out soon.

Akiko🦊🍁

[sensible-doofus]

Prelude of Light (OOT)

(Bolded text is quoted directly from the game.)

In the time after he awoke, Link often returned to the Temple of Time.

It wasn’t an easy journey; going through the castle village was both dangerous and painful. On top of that, Link couldn’t help but feel guilty for taking any time off from his quest for the medallions. But after leaving the Forest Temple, he needed to rest.

He wasn’t sure what it was about the Temple of Time that kept drawing him back. Perhaps it was one of the only places in Hyrule that looked as unchanged as Link felt. Though his body had grown in the last seven years, inside he was still the child he had been before. His own height still caught him off guard sometimes.

Link stood in the temple, remembering the things that had happened there. Seven years ago, he forcibly reminded himself. He remembered how helpless he had felt, how helpless he had been. He had led that black-armored man- Ganondorf- straight to his goal, and had opened the door for him. And now most of Hyrule was in ruins, and it was all Link’s fault.

Link leaned back against the stone wall. He had been traveling for so long, running back and forth across Hyrule collecting jewels, medallions, songs- Link sighed. Suddenly it was all too much. He wanted to lay down on the floor and never move again. He held his face in his hands and stood still for a long time.

Suddenly he heard a quiet sigh and he jerked up his head to look for the source of the noise. Caught up in his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed that strange man, Shiek, sitting in the master sword chamber. He was sitting on the stairs leading up to the sword’s platform, looking at the floor. He didn’t look up as Link approached.

“So you come back here too?” Sheik said. Link didn’t answer; he didn’t feel like he needed to. Sheik understood. “I like the peace and quiet,” he continued. “In here, I can almost forget everything out there.”

Link nodded fervently. He sat down across from Sheik, and together they looked up at the skylight high above. Questions swirled in Link’s head: Who are you? How do you know me? Why are you helping me? But he didn’t want to disturb the quiet, and somehow he doubted that Sheik would answer anyway. The sun moved across the floor as the two relaxed in silence.

Link’s back was just starting to hurt when Sheik’s gaze slid over and he looked Link in the eyes. “It’s not your fault, you know,” Sheik said. Link was taken aback, and Sheik continued before he could think of a response. “You did what you thought was best. You risked your life, you’re still risking your life to protect Hyrule.” His hand curled into a fist and he pounded it on his knee. “Ganondorf is the one to blame, not you.” For a moment it seemed almost like Sheik was trying to convince himself, but Link shook that thought away. 

He looked down, suddenly uncomfortable under Sheik’s intense gaze. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “It’s hard for me to truly believe that. I was such a naive child.” He put his hands over his eyes. “I still am a child.”

Link felt a hand on his shoulder. The touch was simple, but powerful; Link couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt the touch of another person. Too soon he felt the hand being lifted, and he opened his eyes to see Sheik holding it out to him. He took it. Sheik helped him up and looked him in the eyes once more.

“You can do this, Link,” he said. “You are the Hero of Time. You destroyed the wicked creatures haunting the Forest Temple and awakened the Sage. That on its own is incredible. 

“But there are still other Sages who need your help. You can awaken all the other Sages, but first you must become even more powerful. You must travel over mountains, under water, and even through time.” Sheik climbed to the top of the Master Sword’s platform and gestured to the small pedestal. “I know it seems impossible, but the master sword has a limited amount of power over time. If you want to travel back to your original time, return the master sword to this pedestal. By doing this, you will travel back in time seven years.”

Link was struggling to take all of this in. I can go back? Could I fix my mistakes? Could I stop Ganondorf from entering the sacred realm? But Sheik continued before Link could ask.

“The time will come when you will have to return here quickly, so I will teach this to you for when that time comes.” Sheik’s eyes smiled. “And you can use it to return here whenever you would like: the song to return you to the Temple of Time, the Prelude of Light.” 

Sheik pulled out his harp and picked out a new tune. Link listened carefully, and was amazed that upon hearing the song, his heart was filled with a little of the peace the Temple usually gave him. He pulled out his ocarina and repeated the melody, and as he and Sheik played the song together, the light of the Temple of Time shone magically around them. When they finished, Link’s mind was suddenly calm. He was still tired and afraid, but with this new clarity of mind, he at least knew that he could move forward.

Sheik’s voice pulled Link out of his thoughts. “As long as you hold the Ocarina of Time and the Master Sword, you hold time itself in your hands.” 

Link could feel Sheik’s words reaching their end. He knew what was coming next, but suddenly he was so tired of being lonely. “Wait,” he cried, “please don’t go!”

Sheik took a deep breath and smiled gently one more time. “Link, we shall meet again.” He threw a flash bomb on the floor, and when Link looked up, Sheik was gone.

[whirlybirdwhat]

crown the king with bloody flowers - chapter 33

Hanahaki au drabble series, in which Luffy is in love with the sea.

Ao3

chapter 33 - adonis flos - shanks 

Luffy - he’s so small in Shank’s arms, smaller than he was last night, partying with the Red-Haired pirates held upon their shoulders, and smaller than he was this morning, when he ran into Shanks’s knees and caused a ruckus as they were loading the ship. Shanks doesn’t know why he never noticed it before. 

Maybe it’s because now, Luffy is asleep, wrapped in blankets and held in Shanks’s arms, blood on his chin and red stains on the blanket. Maybe it’s because Luffy - vivacious and unstoppable, even with a stab wound to the face - has never been this quiet. This small. This unmoving

Shanks holds him in his arms, sitting in the quiet guest bedroom on the small bed Luffy calls his own above the bar. Knickknacks of child’s toys and treasures, shells Shanks had given to him and odd trinkets the Red Hair pirates had left behind litter the room. 

He’s a child - a child who loved the sea more than anything else. 

(When Shanks had first met him, Luffy had been sitting by the sea, watching the pirate ship come in. Water had lapped at his ankles, and later - when introductions were over and pirates were mumbling into a fifth round of drinks - Luff had simply stared off into the horizon with a smile.

Walking by tide pools, Luffy had said, The sea’s the best! She’s free! Picking up shells, Luffy had told him Isn’t the sea pretty? Living near the shore, the horizon reflected in his gaze, Luffy didn’t have to speak for Shanks to know that he loved the sea.)

A child, that was loved back by the sea. 

Until — 

Luffy coughs, and water and blood and dogwood flowers drip out of his small mouth. Shanks takes the blanket and holds him closer, his own arms trembling, terrified. 

— Until Luffy had eaten that damned fruit. 

It was only a few hours ago but - still - it stays in Shank’s mind.  The way Luffy had bitten in and started choking, not coughing out pieces of fruit but rather flowers. The way his eyes had gone wide and tears had welled up, the way Luffy had clawed at his throat and spit blood unto the floor - the way Luffy had said It hurts and had closed his eyes when Shanks whispered hanahaki.

Shanks watched his captain die in a flurry of petals. He’ll never forget it.

This moment is just the same - seared into his memory like a brand, like a warning, like a curse. 

Luffy, Shanks thinks and tilts his head back to the ceiling, feeling tears wanting too well. There is no shame in crying, every pirate knows that - but here, when Luffy is in his arms and may wake at every moment, Shanks must stay strong. He brought the fruit. He tore Luffy from the sea that he loved more than anything. He’s the one who cursed him. 

He has to stay strong for Luffy. 

(The sea hates Devil Fruit users, the legend states, but Shanks has only ever talked to Buggy and well - he never made it seem that way. Shanks hadn’t really believed it. But this - this is the truth isn’t it? The sea hates.)

There’s another cough from Luffy, but this time - this time he starts shifting. Groaning. Shanks tilts his arms and lets Luffy roll onto his bicep rather than his chest so Luffy is looking straight up at him. 

(His hands, bloody and red, still grip Shanks’s shirt. He almost never wants him to let go.)

“Hey Anchor,” Shanks says softly, quietly. “How you feeling?”

Luffy blinks blearily, brown eyes dazed and faintly pained. He adjusts his grip on Shanks’ shirt and looks around, minutely moving his head, absolutely exhausted, before responding. “‘M tired. Hurts.” 

Something breaks in Shanks’ chest at that, but he tries not to show it. Luffy is  strangely empathetic, even if he doesn’t care about others emotions that much and he’ll know Shanks’ sorrow - 

Luffy tilts his head further into Shanks’s chest and ah - he already knows. “‘M glad you’re here. You always come back. No one really else does.” 

His heart clenches. Oh, how he wants to steal this boy away - away from a bar with a woman who tries her best, away from a village that doesn’t understand, and a grandfather who cares but not enough. He wants to keep Luffy with him, wrap him up and let him see the world on the deck of ship, let him wonder, let him live but - 

He can’t. 

(A ship’s no place for a child who still has somewhere to call home on land.)

Shanks tilts down and presses a kiss onto Luffy’s head, soft and affectionate, his beard scratching at Luffy’s silky hair. The boy gives out a giggle at that, soft and melodious, before a coughing fit starts up again. Hacking and hacking away, flowers spilling out and sinking to the ground. Shanks rubs his back, gently, soothingly, as Luffy starts trembling before sagging in his arms. 

When he looks back up at Shanks, his eyes are pained.  

“Shanks?” He asks, quiet. Unnerving. “Am I going to die?”

And Shanks’ heart breaks.

Am I going to die?

Am I going to die?

Am I going to die? 

No child should have to ask that, should have to bear that burden, and oh - 

Shanks’ reaction is instantaneous and he crushes Luffy to his chest, finally unable to fight the tears that prick at his eyes. 

“No,” he lies, he lies so badly, choking out as much conviction as he can manage. “Anchor, Luffy, no. You - I won’t let you. It’s going to be okay, you won’t die, you won’t.” Luffy shakes in his arms, and he knows, doesn’t he?

That Shanks is lying?

He doesn’t let Luffy go, only listens to his mumbled sobs as he cries with him. 

“Oh, Luffy,” Shanks says, helpless. “I - we will find a way. We will - I’ll sail the entire world, I’ll find something.  I-‘“ His voice cracks. He can’t get another word out. He just holds Luffy tight, tighter than he’s ever held him, before, and sobs into his pitch black hair. ‘Anchor,” he gasps, and this boy is going to die and it’ll be the death of him.

Shanks knows it.

He knows it.

He wishes he didn’t.

His mind races, trying to come up with something, anything, mind always, always, hitching on the way his captains smile was bloody when he said goodbye to Shanks for the last time, bloody red petals stuck in his teeth.

Did you do it, Shanks had asked, sobbing, clinging to his captains coat on that last day, did you achieve your dream?

Not yet, Roger had said, and that had hurt the most. Roger was a pirate. Roger was the Pirate King.

And to a pirate, losing a dream was worse than death.

Shanks doesn’t want that to happen to Luffy. Luffy, who is small in his arms and dying the same way Roger did. Luffy, who is sobbing and terrified. Luffy, who looks out to sea and says he wants to be a pirate with more determination than anyone else in the world.

Luffy can’t die. He can’t.

Shanks can’t stop his tears. He can’t stop crying. 

But. 

He - 

(He’s got will, Rayleigh had said, when Crocus made exasperated noises about why Roger wasn’t bed-ridden in illness, He’ll stay standing as long as he’s got reason to, and adventure’s a good enough one as any.) 

-He won’t let Luffy die.

He takes off his hat with a careful arm, making sure not to move Luffy to roughly, and slowly pulls the hat off his head and place’s it on his Anchor’s. It startles him out of his sobbing for just a moment, his eyes big and red-rimmed with wetness still dripping down. 

“Luffy.” Shanks says, despite the tears that match Luffy’s on his face. “You - you wanna be a pirate, yeah?”

Quiet, quieter than he’s ever been, Luffy nods. “Ye-yeah.” He hiccups. 

“Then listen to me. Pirates are free.” Each word feels like a vow. Like a promise. Like defiance. Shanks keeps his eyes on Luffy’s, and lets the words carry him. “We do what we want, when we want. We sing, we dance, we sail, we laugh - but most of all Luffy, we chase. Our. Dreams.” Here, he holds Luffy tighter, tipping the too-big hat on his head back enough so he can see Luffy’s entire face. “That’s what a Jolly Roger is. It’s a symbol of our conviction in chasing our dreams. And Dreams - to a pirate - that’s our life. If you have a dream, Luffy, then you’ll live. You got that?”

Luffy is staring at him, eyes wide, tears forgotten. It’s just like when he heard Shanks sing Binks sake for the first time, or when he heard about the tales of the Grand Line. It’s awe. 

(Shanks thinks he’ll break if he can’t uphold the pedestal Luffy has placed him upon.)

“Do you?” Shanks prompts again, and Luffy nods.

“Yeah.”

“Then what’s your dream Luffy?” 

“To be a pirate!” Luffy says, voice filled with unsteady conviction. “To sail the seas and be free!”

It’s not enough. But it’s a start.

“Then you won’t die Luffy - as long as you’re chasing your dreams, you won’t die.” Shanks voice cracks again. “You can’t die without being a pirate, right?’

C’mon, Luffy - if anyone’s got the same Will as Roger, it’s you so - 

“Right!” Luffy says, rubbing at his eyes with a hand and blinking tears away even as that same hand comes to clutch at his chest. “I can’t die - not until… not until I-‘

And what he says next isn’t the dream to be a pirate, but something grander, something that spilled out of Roger’s mouth as he laughed with the entire world - something that makes Shanks burst out in glee and hold Luffy close as a few more desperate tears escape his eyes.

“That’s - that’s right. You can’t die till then. You can’t!”

(It’s not a promise. It can’t be. The Seas to much for that. But… Shanks can pretend.)

That night, Luffy sleeps with the hat on in the crook of Shanks’ arms, new found determination in his eyes even as he cries himself to sleep and sobs through the pain.

He gives the hat back, but the next week there are bandits who pick on pirates and little boys alike, missing arms and little anchors lost at sea.

The next week, Shanks has to leave.

But not before hearing Luffy make another promise.

“I’m the man who will be King of the Pirates!”

He won’t die before achieving his dream. 

(Roger did.)

He won’t die before seeing Shanks again.

(Roger did.)

Shanks just has to have faith that this boy - who can smile like the sun, who loves the sea with his whole heart, who has flowers on his lips and in his chest - will live.

King or Dead.

It’s the only choice Luffy has left.

-

adonis flos: a red flower that is also called "blood drops" adonis flos mean 'painful, sorrowful recollections." its named for Adonis, the youth that Aphrodite loved who died in her arms, and who's blood and pain formed flowers where they dripped.

[pparkerpoetry]

Face Reality (Part 3)

Title: The Void Becoming His Best Friend (you tried to stop a god? i’m still here)

Summary: Tommy searches for a way to get to Ranboo. Ranboo isn't having fun. Things that have been done here are permanent, there's no escaping what happened, and Ranboo can't help but feel like there's no hope.

Will Tommy reach him in time to prove otherwise?

WARNING: SUICIDAL THOUGHTS

Part 1 Part 4

Masterlist

It was a while later, and three of the four people were awake and thinking. 

“Tommy, I get that you want hope and that you’re optimistic, but really? ‘Oh, we just gotta waltz up to the enderman and give it the old chat’ really, Tommy?” Techno asked, unhappy that his slumber had been interrupted while Tubbo got to rest.

“But we could find him! You’ve got so many books here, surely one of them is on enderman language.” Tommy argued. “What’re you gonna do, just abandon Ranboo?”

There was silence in the cottage. It was deafening.

“What the… no! I don’t get why you’re so content to just leave it alone, how do you sleep at night?” Tommy exploded. “How do you sleep at night knowing that somewhere, Ranboo is all alone, just like I was? I know what he’s gone through, you don’t. You only know riches and pride. So how about once, just once, you get off your pedestal and get your head out of your ass to help me find my friend?”

“Tommy-” Phil tried to interject.

“No, you don’t get to interrupt me. You two only wanted to use him- not even Tubbo is completely innocent, he used some pretty questionable methods to try to restore his memory- but at least he had good intentions! You just wanted to use him as what, a secret weapon to help you get your way?”

Silence fell again, until Techno heaved a heavy sigh.

“Fine, Tommy. I’m sure that at least the villagers have a book that might help. Just… don’t get your hopes up. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m not going to get hurt, because I’m not going to stop until Ranboo is home.” Tommy retorted, getting up to begin his work.

In the following days, Tubbo left for Snowchester, for he had other priorities. He wished he could stay, but he wasn’t sure he completely trusted his room mates yet. He’d visit soon, but ultimately, he wasn’t part of the second search.

Technoblade did help Tommy in finding books and scriptures that might help him, but he didn’t have spare time other than that. He had pets to tend to, farms to harvest, journeys to travel. He’d be there for the major parts of the research, but ultimately, he wasn’t part of the second search. 

Phil helped in his own way. He kept the food plentiful and warm, he made sure the woodpile outside was always ready to fuel the fire, he made sure that in the late nights where Tommy had stayed up, he found his way to bed. He made sure that Tommy was well taken care of, but ultimately, he wasn’t part of the second search.

Tommy dove into his quest to bring Ranboo back. He travelled to a multitude of villages, he ransacked Techno’s library, he wouldn’t sleep until he had finished that page- that chapter- the whole book. He wouldn’t eat until he’d found one more hint, he wouldn’t rest. Tommy was doing everything in his power to succeed. He was the second search.

It seemed like ages to Tommy, by the time he found a reasonable script of text that would help him learn the language, but maybe that was because he pulled one-nighters more than he slept through the starry skies. 

The book itself was small and unassuming, and to be honest, he had almost passed it by without bothering to check. But, in the end, he was glad that he did check it, because the purple cover and black binding held all of the answers that he had been looking for. 

The pages were old and crackled as Tommy flipped through them, he was almost scared that they’d dissolve right in his hands. The handwriting was beautifully curved, and it seemed to give off glowing purple particles every few minutes. He looked through it quickly, and he grinned, because there on the pages, was a way to communicate to the only way to find his friend.

It took him weeks to figure out how to make the guttural chirps and various noises, and he knew it would take even longer to learn it fluently, so he figured it was best to just translate as he went. So, on a bright, sunny day, Tommy went outside in the snow. There was no one around, they were all off in their places, he didn’t know where. He only knew where the enderman was.

It was old now, that lanky creature, since it was already a considerable age when it had reached the overworld. It’s vibrant skin had faded to a dull grey, and its warbling cries were hoarse. It pried its eyes open as Tommy approached, and its gaze lazily shifted to the book that he held. The look in its eyes was almost one of… recognition. 

“Hello?” Tommy tested, unsure of how this would work. He wasn’t sure if he trusted the writing yet.

The enderman let out a similar sound to the trill that he had tried, so he supposed it was fine. Was this working?

Tommy flipped through the book he held, finding the words he wanted to say. It was slow, but it was working. “Where… boy… go?” Not the greatest grammatically, but it got his point across.

The enderman let out a huff of air, settling down in its boat. It was silent for a moment before looking back at Tommy. “Hybrid?”

Once he found the word that he thought the enderman had said, he nodded frantically. “Where?”

There was now a sad look in the enderman’s eyes, but the way its teeth were bared almost made it seem like it was smiling. What was going on?

“Where?” Tommy asked again, more aggressively this time.

A soft crooning came out of the enderman. It held emotion, it held regret, it held everything that Tommy never would have thought endermen would feel. It took longer to find the translation now. When he did, he wasn’t sure if it was a clear answer.

“Called home?” He repeated.

The enderman nodded. “The boy was called home.”

“Where is home?” Tommy asked. Ranboo had a home other than here? Where was it?

“The End.” 

Tommy scrunched up his eyebrows. The end? “End of what?”

“Home.”

No matter how much Tommy tried, the enderman kept repeating those two phrases. Home. The end. He never answered where home was, never answered what it was the end of. Was it the end of their home, Ranboo returning? Tommy didn’t know.

He got up to leave after a few hours of trying, tired of listening to the same words over and over again. As he stood, the enderman said one last thing.

“Find him. Hurry.”

The voice was so genuine, so worried, that Tommy just nodded and didn’t bother telling the enderman that he was going as fast as he could.

_____________

That night at dinner, Tommy brought up what he had heard. Techno and Phil were just as well off as he was- confused and angry because of it.

“Tell me it again?” Techno asked.

“The boy was called home, the end, home. It kept repeating that, like some weirdo.” Tommy scoffed.

“Pass the salt,” Phil said, before continuing. “Ranboo went home, but as far as we know he doesn't have another home here, right?” He got confirmation, so he rushed to finish. “Well, Ranboo’s a hybrid, so what I’m trying to say is… what if he went back home, but to the endermen? There’s gotta be a place where they all exist, right? We just gotta figure out how to get there.”

They thought about that for a moment.

“Yeah, but that still doesn’t explain the end thing. The end of a story? I don’t get it.” Tommy said, frustrated.

Techno chucked. “You don’t get a lot of things, Tommy.” He let out an indignant noise when he was smacked by a dark grey wing. “Phil, aren’t you going to tell him to stop it?”

Phil laughed. “Tommy, don’t hit your brother.”

Tommy stopped, but he couldn’t help but think that Phil hadn’t done anything when Techno was trying to kill him way back when, in L’manberg. He shook his head as if that would help clear it. Those times had passed, at least he had a family. That was more than Ranboo could say.

Unless the endermen were his family. Maybe he wouldn’t even want to come back. Maybe this was all useless.

____________

When Tommy tried to research a home for the endermen, he came up with nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. To the world around him, endermen just popped into existence when they wanted to, but he knew something was wrong. He needed answers.

So Tommy did something he hadn’t done in a long time. Not since right after Ranboo went missing and they didn’t even realize it. He put on his boots, he put on a determined look and he picked up his communicator. 

“Hey, Sam. Mind heading to the prison? I fancy a visit to that green-looking bitch.”

It was no less ominous than the last time he had been there, and you could tell that no one had visited in a while. After a long wait, when he finally got through the lava, he saw Dream. 

He looked significantly worse than last time, but Tommy didn’t feel any sympathy. He got what he deserved.

“Hey, Tommy.” Dream drawled, sitting on the floor in the corner. 

Tommy nodded. “Hey Dream. Listen, I need some information. I need to know where the home of the endermen is. I figured you might know.”

“It’s gonna cost you, Tommy. I-”

“I’m not going to call for your release, so you can just forget that right now.”

Dream laughed. “I’m not stupid. I know that I’m stuck here until I can figure out how to escape. I was gonna say, if you want this information, I’m not going to revive Wilbur. This kind of information is valuable, I need to make sure you really want it.”

Tommy inhaled quickly, and looked away, shoving his hands in his pockets. He didn’t like how his eyes filled with tears at the mention of his older brother. He didn’t like how even then, in that moment, Dream still had power over him, trying to scrabble for even the slightest bit of hold on him.

“Think it over, Tommy. This isn’t a rushed decision.”

Tommy glared at the man, but his brain rushed with thoughts. The most prominent? 

Wilbur was gone. He didn’t want to come back. One of his brothers was too far gone to be helped, but there was still one that he had the power to save. He couldn’t do both.

“Just give me the information, Dream, and I’ll leave you alone again.”

“You’re doing all of this for Ranboo? Are you sure he’s worth it?”

Tommy rolled his eyes to hide his insecurity and didn't bother asking how Dream knew. “Shut it, Dream. I’m not going to give up on him like everyone else. So give me that information, and we’ll see what other purposes we can have for you besides rotting in hell.”

_____________

Dream ended up writing out some stuff in one of the many books that he had, and Tommy left him with a middle finger in the air and a smile on his face.

“You all set?” Awesamdude had asked, and for once, Tommy was able to say, truthfully, that he had never been better.

______________

He was back at the cottage, sitting at the dining room table, the simple leather book open to the lazy scrawl of Dream’s writing. There wasn’t much, for even Dream had his things that he didn’t know, but there was enough that surely they’ll be able to find the enderman home. Tommy scanned the book and-

“That motherfucker.” 

Phil looked over. “What?”

“You wanna know what the home of the endermen is called? Huh, Phil? You wanna know? Jesus.” Tommy raged.

Techno popped into the room. “Well, I want to know. What is it?”

“The End.” Tommy said, running a hand over his face. “I can’t believe it. I was all ‘the end of what’ when it was a name the whole time? Man.”

Techno laughed, but Phil didn’t. He had some questions. “Well, does it say how to get there, or are we just as well off as we were?”

Tommy squinted at the words on the page. “It says there’s a portal that we have to put eye of enders on. I’d always wondered what those things were for. Huh. Oh, here we go. The portal can be found in a fortress, uhh… there’s a lot of rooms in a fortress, so we need to find the portal one.”

Technoblade stopped laughing. “Does it say what the portal looks like?”

“A circle of sand-like yellow bricks that have some sort of blue substance on it? That doesn’t make sense.” Tommy muttered to himself, but Techno just groaned. 

“I am such an idiot.” At a look from Tommy, he elaborated. “Tommy, we’ve been using the portal as a table this whole time.” 

________________

After another week of preparation, they all stood around the portal. 

Well, not everyone, because the room was pretty small, but there were a few people there. Phil and Techno were there, Tubbo was there. Tommy was there. Fundy wasn’t, and Niki wasn’t, but there were people there. They were all geared up and ready to go, all prepared to go fetch Ranboo back. 

They had eyes of ender. 

They just had to be placed.

Tommy wasn’t sure if he was ready, because he’d spent months on this. Years, if you count the first search. He had grown, in those years. He was still Tommyinnit, legendary fighter. He was still immature sometimes, he still swore, he still had fun. But yeah, he had changed. He wasn’t innocent or naive anymore. Was he ever? His laughs weren’t so carefree, his smiles weren’t so sincere, his eyes didn’t shine with the mischief that they used to. He had grown, and he was ready for this. He placed the enders into the portal.

Nothing happened.

“What?” Tommy asked. “What? No, no, no, no, Dream said this would work. It has to work. This is the only way to get there- this has to work.” His breathing quickened and he grabbed the book, flipping it over and searching the words again. “Yeah- it’s supposed to work-”

Phil sighed. “I don’t know, Tommy. Maybe it’s just a regular table. Maybe it’s not a portal.”

Techno was silent, but he nodded. 

Tubbo didn’t say anything. 

Tommy didn’t know which one was worse.

His wings circled his body as he fell to sit on the ground, knees pulled up against his chest. “It was supposed to work.” Tommy’s voice cracked, and he didn’t have the energy to groan at it. “Why didn’t it work?”

There was silence. He knew they’d be leaving soon. 

Before they could, though, there was a soft gust of wind. They all turned to the doorway of the room, where a shadow stood. 

“Who are you?” Techno asked, raising his axe.

“Calm down, Blood god.” The being sneered. “I’m not here for you.” The being drifted over to where Tommy sat and gave out a quiet cluck. “Aw, the scripts really haven’t been kind to you, have they? No matter. Do you want to go through the portal?”

“Yeah.” Tommy’s response was too small-sounding for his liking.

The deity looked at the room, and hummed. “I can’t let all four of you through, and two of you couldn’t even travel through the End without those handy wings… But, I only promised Ranboo that I’d let someone through if they truly were looking for him.” The piercing gaze turned to Phil. “So you can understand why you can’t go through either. Only Tommy can go through, and that is final.”

“How do you know my name?” Tommy asked, dragging himself to his feet. 

“Oh, Tommy.” The deity laughed, waving its hand and doing away with the portal, only to wave it again and the portal was back, only this time the middle of it was taken up by a black expanse, scattered with stars. “You’ve been trying to kill a god, but you were looking in the wrong places. Sure, you locked up a wannabe, but I’m still here. Go through the portal, Tommy. It’ll be open as long as it takes you, but don’t expect to be in my good graces again. You’ve lived life on a thin line, Tommyinnit. Eventually, you’re going to fall.”

Tommy hesitated, but he was given a harsh push and he fell through the portal, screaming.

_______________

His back hit the ground and the air left his lungs, leaving him gasping. When he rolled over, he noticed that what he was standing on was definitely not dirt. Because, last time he checked, dirt was not yellow.

Was it snow?

He got up onto his feet and stretched his wings, turning in a slow circle. There was no land in sight, in any direction, and he certainly did not know where to go for sure. He had a hunch, but his hunches were barely right.

He ended up deciding to just pick a direction to fly in, and hope he encountered a city to ask for a route to Ranboo or something, and he wasn’t going to question why his method succeeded. 

It just didn’t work out exactly how he thought it would,  but it worked.

When he landed in the city, the endermen avoided his gaze. He’d never seen so many in one spot, and he’d never seen any so mad. It looked like a relatively new settlement, but he plucked up the courage to speak to one.

“Hello?”

One glared at the space between his eyes. “What, Human?”

“Where is hybrid boy?” Tommy asked, hoping they got what he was trying to say, hoping desperately that this was a city that knew Ranboo. 

He got a response, but it wasn’t a positive one. It was a hiss, a scream, a yell of such pure and unfiltered anger and disgust that Tommy took a full step backwards. The enderman pointed in a direction. “Kill him if you want to. We have no use for him. Now go, before we kill you.”

Tommy didn’t understand the entirety of the words, but he got the gist of it. Kill? Why would they think he wanted to kill Ranboo? Why did they hate him so much?

He ran to the edge of the floating island he was on and leaped, letting his wings carry him. He traveled for ages, but eventually, another island came into sight. Only, instead of a heavily populated city, all that was left was ruins.

_______________

Ranboo didn’t do much on the first few days after he was abandoned for the… third? Time. The only thing that kept him going was the fact that his animals needed tending to. It was the only thing that kept him alive, that kept him from finding the void more appealing than it already was. They’d be all alone, no one would find them.

No one deserved to be alone.

He stopped writing in his memory book. It hurt too much, to pick up that pen and have to face all that had happened, but he couldn’t burn it. It hurt too much, to flip through the pages that he had been so happy in, still alone but happy. He thought maybe, if he didn’t remember it happening, it wouldn’t have. TIme would go in reverse. He wasn’t stuck here. Surely, someone would come for him. Why was he here again? He didn’t remember.

He didn’t want to remember.

After a week, he got angry. He had internalized his pain for so long, maybe he deserved an opportunity to let it out. So he did. He let it all out, he screamed as he let his true height show, as his body was surrounded with floating purple particles. He didn’t remember what happened, but he blacked out and when he woke up, the city was destroyed. It was only when he opened his eyes that he realized what had stopped him. One of his parrots had been caught in the crossfire.

Wasn’t everyone?

The parrot got buried. It took work, but he couldn’t just toss the body in the void. 

He started talking to himself. “What if I act as enderman-like as possible? Will they come back?” 

“What if I punish myself? Will they come back?”

“What if I make myself worth it? Will they come back?.”

Eventually, it got worse. 

“Please, I’ll do anything, I want to go back. I made a mistake, they didn’t care for me but maybe if I come back, they will. Maybe if I lose the part of me that they wanted to use, they’ll see me as someone to care for.”

Who was he kidding. They’d always use him.

Ranboo started crying more. It always hurt, but sometimes he liked it. Sometimes the dull pain was a nice reminder that he wasn’t dead, yet. He fell asleep at night crying, and would wake up with a headache. He’d shake and scream, he’d panic and have his breath speed up, but he made it through it.

At some point, he couldn’t remember when, he stopped crying. He couldn’t feel the pain anymore. The stinging had faded. He didn’t cry at night (was it night? The sky just stared endlessly at him. He didn’t remember what time it was.) anymore. He stayed awake most of the time. When he did cry, it still didn’t hurt. It took him a while, but he got the courage to look into the water bucket he had brought with him. He wished he didn’t. His face was covered in ugly red and maroon scars, deep and aching. They’d never heal. This was something he’d have to live with forever. Maybe forever wouldn’t last that long.

He started dipping his hands into the water instead of crying. It burned more.

It seemed like months passed before he got used to his whole situation. Sure, he still pondered on what could have been done differently. What if he never left his shack? L’manberg? The End, the first time? He couldn’t tell where the mistakes and bad decisions began.

He could feel himself adapt. 

His hearing was more sensitive, for without the constant buzz of endermen, the End was dead quiet. Maybe that wasn’t the best metaphor, though. 

His eyesight was better, but it was different. He wasn’t sure how to describe it. Dull? Maybe it came from staring into the void. 

He did keep talking, but only spoke in the human dialect when the voice of Dream came to visit him. It wasn’t that often, but it kept him company. He never got that closure that everyone told him he needed. Most other times he used the endermen warbles that he had been shunned for forgetting, hoping that it might bring them back.

DId he want them back?

Time passed. He wasn’t sure if it was slowly or not, because he couldn’t tell time at all. He measured time by when his pets died, first the other parrot, then one cat, then his dog, then Enderchest. Enderpearl was the last to go, of old age or lack of food. He guessed nothing but endermen could survive in the End. Was he part of that?

He already felt half-dead. What was the difference? 

He knew time had passed. He was no fool, he knew it left him behind like everyone else. He lived in his ruins alone, and he learned to tolerate it. No one used him. There was no one to use him, and no one to use him against, but he glossed over the details.

What if things had gone differently?

He couldn’t think like that. They never would go differently. He was stuck here, and maybe he’d learn to love it.

The void was becoming his best friend. 

Days went by in a steady routine of the same thing over and over again, a haze that he could never be broken out of. At least, that’s what he always thought. 

Until he woke up one day and heard something for the first time since he’d last felt pain from the water on his hands and had screamed. He didn’t know what it was, but as it got closer, his ears hurt more and more. He decided to curl up in his house until it was gone.

It didn’t go away. It got worse.

It stopped for a second, then it got way worse but- was that- no, it couldn’t be. Was that- was that- English?

“Ranboo? Ranboo, are you here?”

He whimpered, and the noise paused, replaced with the sound of feet hitting the ground. A shadow came across the doorway, though the room was already dark. 

“Ranboo?”

He put his hands over his ears, and he heard a soft ‘oh’.

The voice spoke soft nothings, comforting words that he hadn’t heard in so long. It was a while before he felt like he could open his eyes. When he did, he gave a quiet screech of surprise.

“Tommy?”

The blond smiled. “Hey, buddy.”

Tommy was almost an adult, or was already one, either way he was old enough that his eyes told weary stories of his battles but young enough that his bones still had spirit. 

“Are you real? There’s no way you’re real- you’re fake, you’ve got to be, you came after all this time?”

Tommy’s grin faltered. “I can’t understand you that well. You wanna talk in a language we’re both fluent in?”

Ranboo almost laughed, because that was such a Tommy thing to say, but instead, he felt tears welling in his eyes. He sniffled a little bit, and suddenly he was being hugged- and surely, it shouldn’t have been so nice, but it had been so long since he had last had one that he cried, and he hadn’t cried for such a long time, but it felt good to feel something again. It felt good to just be held, because it felt so good to be comforted and cared for. 

Ranboo didn’t notice when Tommy brought him outside, but it was brought to his attention when Tommy said something about it, in better lighting.

“Oh, Ranboo, what happened to you?”

Ranboo didn’t respond, he was burrowed too far into a hug, and the gentle touches on his scars were more comforting than painful.

“Ranboo, I know you haven’t seen me in a while, but we gotta go back. Phil, Tubbo and Tech are all waiting for you.”

He barely registered it, but he noticed the fond nickname that Technoblade had been given, and suddenly he felt guilty for intruding on the probable whole family. “I don’t want to get in the way of your true family.” He said sleepily.

As he drifted off into the first peaceful sleep since before he found this hell, safe in Tommy’s arms, he heard one last thing.

“Aw, but you are my true family, big man.”

[transskywardsword]

GREAT can you please write something with Link/Garini? (He's the npc from the Lurelin village shrine quest with the broken stone tablet in botw.) Maybe Link's telling him about his travels and cool stuff he's seen?

sorry this took so long! family got in the way. i hope you like this; characterization was a little hard, but i did my best! actually broke out my switch to get all the dialogue options i possibly could

---

Link hadn't set out to Palmorae Beach intentionally; the talus in Gama Cove was back, and the last thing Link needed was Kinov or Zuta wandering out there and getting hurt. It was easy enough to take out, even with its awkwardly positioned ore head, and in 15 minutes Link was two rubes, three opals, and seven ambers richer, kicking through the rubble of the dead talus. Rain began to drip down the stone walls and pool onto the sand. Link sighed. At least it rarely thundered in Lurelin Village.

The walk to the Fishing Resort would be forty minutes on a good day, longer when the sand turned to sludge during a rainstorm, so instead he turned heel, hugging the cliffside's cover up to Palmorea Beach.

The beach itself wasn't remarkable, no more than any of the sand and water surrounding all of Lurelin-- except for the ruins carved out of the cliff face. Link recognized the Shrine pedestals that were clustered inside, but the arching metal and stone meant nothing to him. Still, the shards of... something... that glowed in the rain were impossible to look away from.

"You got stuck in the storm, too?"

Link startled at the voice, and the man laughed. "You caught in the zone? I find my mind always wanders when I'm here."

The man was tall, dark-skinned and simply dressed, soaked to the bone with a bright, broad smile.

"This place has a very... spiritual aura to it. Do you feel it? It pulls, especially this time of day. When twilight is at its closest." He took Link's wrist and pulled him further into the runes, against the cover of a broken, glowing monument. "I realized recently that the engravings on this one are actually some kind of writing, some kind of ancient Hylian. Can't make hide or hair of it though." He leaned back against the stone.

"Hey, you were the one that lit up that weird stone monument near the front of town, right? You must care about all this mystery stuff too!"

Link shrugged. It was hard not to smile; the man's energy and excitement were infectious.

'It's a Shrine, leftover from the Sheikah. It's 10,000 years old, give or take."

The man's eyes went wide. "10,000? And you can interact with it?"

Link slipped his slate from off his belt. "With this. It's called a Sheikah slate, and it has the power to interact with the Shrines, to move metal, create true to life images, hold thousands of supplies-- and that's just the beginning."

He handed it over to the man, who held it gently, reverently. "And to think, I've been digging around in sand looking for scraps for months now."

Link bumped his shoulder. "Of course it's gonna be hard when it's a one-man doing a dozen-man job." He looked up. The rain was thinning. "You know, I don't have anywhere to be any time soon. The rain's stopping and we still have a little light-- I could help you look through these ruins of yours."

The man grinned; it fit his face well. "Garini," He said, holding out his hand. Link took it.

"Link."