#best beloved you are the universe experiencing itself and that's all the use you need to be

[perrydowning]

A Path to Hope that Works for Me

We all know humanity does this thing where it has to relearn the same lesson over and over again. Just like individuals, it feels like. I've been relearning many things I thought I'd figured out in my 20s. At first it was so discouraging, I'd already done this! Plus, at 47, it is so cringe. Yet, though I'm having to learn things anew, it turns out that each lesson, though the same color, is such a deeper shade.

History repeats itself, duh. And it's easy to fall into despair, that place where everything feels pointless. Why even bother if human beings are just gonna fuck it up again? Experiencing myself making the exact same mistakes from my youth certainly made me wonder if I just wasn't worth the effort.

But then I started to notice that I was understanding myself so much better and that I was practicing. Learning in a whole new way. It's a bit like re-reading a beloved novel. Every time through, you see more and more, it speaks to you differently as you gather more experiences.

What if humanity, as a massive group identity, is like that, too? Yeah, we're repeating the same mistakes, sometimes with a truly grotesque rhyming scheme. The stakes are also about as high as it gets, as opposed to a cossetted widow's therapeutic journey.

Though, I believe we are learning. In the last, I dunno, couple hundred years, we've (I'm speaking of a human average, not all humans) gone from the concept of universal human rights being incomprehensible to something most nations at least acknowledge might be a thing, even if they hate it. That's some pretty significant growth, from a certain point of view.

I was raised without religion, so it's always felt above my pay grade. But I do have faith--deep and abiding. That faith is in humanity. How? you might ask given that the world is on fire, could I possibly believe in us?

I'm going to borrow from western faith traditions here. Those massive medieval cathedrals, that were begun sometimes over a thousand years ago, they took generations to build. The masons who built the foundation knew they would never see the spire, nor the next generation. Or the next. But they did that without even a standard unit of measurement and those soaring monuments to human achievement are still here. That happened because each wave of builders crafted the best bricks they could.

I find my hope in that. I know I'll never see the spire, but I can make the best brick I know how to make so that it supports the next builders.

The spire gets all the attention--not unlike Great Leaders in History--but it needs all those beautiful, mundane bricks to reach for the sky.

I'm just gonna work on my brick. Maybe I'll even be able to make two.

[icantpickafictionalman]

New flesh

Adam x Fem!Reader

A/n : you remember that scene in stranger things season 3 where El gets a piece of the mind flayer stuck in her leg, and she uses her powers to get it out? Yeah, it's that (kinda)

Context : Reader is a different kind of seraphim, one capable of chaos beyond anything imaginable. She could bring universes to downfall, and despite her mighty power being forbidden to use, decided so by Sera, the head seraphim, there come times when it is the only answer. Although readers powers span as far as collapsing worlds, a given is her talents when it comes to telekinesis. During the battle in ep8, we see reader draw the final straw, and give into her powers.

Tags: heavy gore, Angst, knifes, descriptive injuries and pain

(PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE)

"Wait!" Adam screamed, as he watched his lover, who had come to help in the battle, descend into her truest form. (Name), one of the angelic seraphim, was powerful. So powerful, that she would hurt herself in the process of using her powers.

When she had fully reached her chaotic form, a bright light blinded almost everyone watching. All of hell experienced momentary sunrise, and even heaven saw a bright, white flash.

The battle was done. Everyone had been stopped, however, as (name) fell to the floor, Adam rushed to her side. Soon, everyone gathered to watch.

"What- what the fuck were you thinking?!What have you done?!" Adam screamed in between fast and short breaths, just now noticing the huge gash of flesh ripped out of (Name)'s knee.

"I'm- I'm fine! Fuck- Aeugh!" She cried out, pain soaking through her skin and forming itself into words. "Where does it hurt?!" He yelled, trying his best to put an end to his beloved's anguish. "Everywhere! Fucking- Adam it's in me!" She screamed, throwing her head back so that she didn't have to look at the golden blood pouring out of her leg any longer. "What? What the fuck do you mean 'it's' fucking in you! What is!?" Experiencing pain beyond imagine, all (name) could muck up the strength to do was point to her leg. When Adam looked, he saw a lump, moving around under (name)'s skin, making its way from the bottom of the wound, to further up her leg. "Fucking Christ! What the-! I need, I need something to get it out of her!" Nearby, Adam watched as Nifty pulled out a knife and offered it to Adam. "Fuck, yeah okay!" Turning back to (name), he held her hand. "Look, this is only gonna hurt for-" but he was cut off by (name)'s excruciating cries. "Get it out! Get it out of me!" Wincing, Adam held the knife at an angle, and began slidinb the knife down from the top of her leg to the opening of the gash, trying to push the creature out, but it just wouldn't work. "I'm gonna have to cut your leg, you'll be okay, just.. oh fuck!" Adam tried his best not to hurt her, but piercing her with a knife and slowly making the hole bigger was no use. "Fuck, fuck just- just let me- Agh! Let me do it!" Adam threw the knife to the side, not wanting to cause her any more pain. Slowly, (name) raised her hands above the wound, and started to focus, until, the creature could be seen being dragged slowly but surely back down to the wound. As (name) continued to wail, everyone around her was silent. But more specifically, Adam was silent. He was shocked. Scared. Confused. Suddenly, as (name) gave one last blood-curdling scream, the creature was released from her leg, and immediately Adam pounced at it with the knife. He couldn't even say anything. Just grunt, as he tortured and pulverised the creature who had caused his love such suffering. (Name) was silent too, partly recovering, partly stunned. She had never seen Adam so... violent.

As the two left, Adam carried (name) through the portal back to heaven, and made sure to find her immediate medical attention.

"I don't know how you done it." He whispered, sitting next to her hospital bed where she lay, drifting in and out of sleep.

"Done what?"

"Yanked that thing out of you like it was nothing. I struggled to get it out of you myself. Must've hurt like hell."

"It's better now."

"You sure?"

"Promise."

"I love you."

"I love you too Adam."

[chalkrevelations]

Note to self:

Vegas may have got his fingers in the cracks and pulled Pete open, but Pete was primed for it because there were already hairline cracks in his little tailorbird perfect bodyguard armor from Porsche. Any look at the Pete-Porsche relationship has GOT to be informed by the monumental fact that Porsche was probably the first person - in how long? - to make Pete actually feel anything (other than useless), and that’s why Pete was willing to walk into the lion’s den for him. The very act of infiltrating the minor family compound for info that would not only help the main family but also exonerate Porsche was a way for Pete to be actively useful and therefore alive in a way he hadn’t felt in who knows how long. (And I think he would have done it for Porsche anyway, but I also think his mindset wasn’t helped by the fact that he was coming off a series of spying missions that he tried to tell Kinn he wasn’t good at and that he kept failing at, which probably didn’t help with the issue of feeling useless, nor of needing to find something he could be useful at before he went out doing what he’d been trained to do - offering himself up as a sacrifice for the main family.)

That’s also why the probability of being captured and tortured and killed was something Pete seemed to be fine with - once Porsche was exonerated, Pete’s usefulness was done, so why not die and escape the meaningless useless nothingness his life would just go back to? In the meantime, he was already looking forward to capture and torture because it made him feel something, because it was for Porsche before it ever became about Vegas and about Pete’s response to Vegas, back at the point when Vegas was still a means to an end, for Pete. At the point when Vegas was still nothing more than a tool of violence, the way he was for everyone else in the main or minor families - just one that Pete was going to turn on himself, for a little bit of pain to feel alive one last time before committing suicide-by-Vegas.

And Vegas plays his role, because that’s what he does, that’s what he’s been trained to do, that’s what been beaten into him (lit. and fig.) his entire life, that’s what everyone - including he, himself, at that point - thinks he is. The torturer, the monster, the beast. The tool of violence. God, no wonder Vegas was so angry at the beginning. It’s a feedback loop of dehumanization. What Vegas does to Pete at the beginning of their arc is so obvious and in your face, it almost obscures what Pete’s doing to Vegas.

“Everyone is a monster to someone. Since you are so convinced that I am yours, I will be it.”

I need to think about all of this some more.

[letterboxd]

How I Letterboxd #13: Erika Amaral.

Film sociologist Erika Amaral on the blossoming of Brazil’s women filmmakers, the joys of queuing for the movies, the on-fire Brazilian Letterboxd community, and the sentimental attachment of her entire nation to A Dog’s Will.

“It is hard to produce art without institutional support and it is very complicated to produce art during this tragic pandemic.” —Erika Amaral

In the wide world outside of English-language Letterboxd, Brazil occupies a particularly fervent corner. Sāo Paulo-based feminist film theorist Erika Amaral has connected with many other local film lovers through her Letterboxd profile, and for anyone with an interest in Cinema Brasileiro, her lists are an excelente place to start.

From her personal introduction to Brazilian film history, to her own attempts to fill gaps in her Latin American cinematic knowledge, Erika’s well-curated selections are a handy primer on the cinema of the fifth-largest country in the world, and its neighbors. These lists sit alongside her finely judged academic deep-dives into filmmakers such as Luis Buñuel, Glauber Rocha and Sarah Bernhardt.

Endlessly fascinated by how “the history of cinema is all intertwined”, Erika has also written on Jia Zhangke for Rosebud Club, is an Ana Carolina stan, enjoys collecting films directed by women featuring mirrors and women, and, like all of us, watched many remarkable movies during quarantine.

Suzana Amaral (left, rear) with cast and crew on the set of her film ‘A Hora da Estrela’ (Hour of the Star, 1985).

Olá, Erika. Please give our readers a brief introduction to your brilliant Introduction to Brazilian Film History list. I’m so happy to see this list getting popular! I’m a sociologist interested in film and gender studies. It’s been four years since I started studying Brazilian film history but my passion for film is much older. I tried to combine those two aspects in this list; films that are meaningful to me, historically relevant films, and historically relevant films erased from film-history books, for instance, those directed by women. The main purpose of my list is to highlight Brazilian women filmmakers’ fundamental contributions to Brazilian cinema.

I listed some absolute classics such as Hour of the Star by the late director Suzana Amaral, and other obscure gems such as The Interview, by Helena Solberg, which is a short feature released in 1966 alongside the development of Cinema Novo. Solberg’s work was hidden for decades. No-one knew about it. In Brazil, especially in the field of film studies and feminist theories, we are experiencing the blossoming of public debates, books being released, and film festivals that look specifically into films such as Solbergs’s and [those of] many other women directors, including Adélia Sampaio, the first Black female director to release a feature film in Brazil in 1984, Amor Maldito. We need these debates on Letterboxd as well, so I wrote this list in English.

As a representative of the passionate Brazilian community on Letterboxd, can you provide some insight into the site’s popularity where you live, especially for those of us who have not learned Brazilian Portuguese? I feel at home using Letterboxd. Everywhere I see Brazilian members posting reviews in both Portuguese and English. It’s a passionate community. It’s directly related to Twitter where Brazilian cinephiles are so active and productive, always sharing film memes (and even Letterboxd memes). Many content creators are using both Letterboxd and Twitter to showcase their podcasts, classes and film clubs. I once started a talk at a university for film students mentioning that my Masters research project came into life when I watched Amélia, showing my mind-blown Letterboxd review in the presentation. I follow many of those students now and it is so good to be connected. Brazilian Film Twitter and [the] Brazilian Letterboxd community are on fire!

Alexandre Rodrigues as Buscapé in ‘City of God’ (2002), directed by Fernando Meirelles and Kátia Lund.

When uninitiated cinephiles think about Brazilian cinema, City of God is most likely top of the list. It’s the only Brazilian film to be nominated for Best Director at the Academy Awards (despite co-director Kátia Lund being shut out!) and it’s the only Brazilian film in IMDb’s Top 250. After nearly 20 years, is it fair for City of God to represent Brazil? Of course, it is fair for City of God to represent Brazil! The only problem is if we think all Brazilian cinema is exclusively City of God. The film is entertaining, well-directed, has a great cast, but it has some flaws—for example, the aestheticization of violence and misery in Brazil, which scholar Ivana Bentes calls the “cosmetics of hunger”. Even so, it is a great film and it captivated Brazilian and international audiences. We shouldn’t limit any country to only one or two films.

If you enjoy City of God, check my list for Brazilian films directed by women in this period, which we call “Cinema da Retomada”—the renaissance of Brazilian cinema after the economic problems [that] hampered the film industry in the 1990s.

Selton Mello and Matheus Nachtergaele in beloved Brazilian comedy ‘O Auto da Compadecida’ (A Dog’s Will, 2000).

Several Brazilian films have stunningly high ratings on Letterboxd, giving them a place on many of our official lists. This includes A Dog’s Will, which is in the top ten of our all-time Top 250. On Letterboxd, A Dog’s Will reviews are cleanly divided into two camps: Brazilians (who absolutely love it) and everyone else (who fail to understand its popularity). What drives this home-team spirit? People truly love A Dog’s Will! It’s funny, has a fantastic rhythm, and it references many aspects of Brazilian culture, especially regarding north-eastern Brazilian culture. It was shown both as a film and as a miniseries infinite times on the largest and most popular television channel in Brazil. I can’t help mentioning that A Dog’s Will portrays Jesus Christ as a black man and Fernanda Montenegro as Brazil’s patron saint, Nossa Senhora Aparecida. It’s a brilliant moment for Matheus Nachtergaele, one of the greatest Brazilian actors ever.

Can you offer us a ‘Gringo’s Guide to A Dog’s Will’? I love the idea of a ‘Gringo’s Guide to A Dog’s Will’! You need to have good subtitles. The beauty of A Dog’s Will is that it is regional but it was made to be understandable to all of Brazil. You are going to need subtitles that [cover] the expressions, slang and proverbs—not mere translations. I would recommend watching some other films from north-eastern Brazil; Land of São Saruê, Love for Sale and Ó Paí Ó: Look at This. This can help you understand other social and cultural dimensions of Brazil beyond, for instance, City of God. A Dog’s Will is a movie that we would watch on a lazy Sunday afternoon with the family, so we have a strong sentimental attachment to it.

Leonardo Villar bears the weight of a cross in ‘The Given Word’ (1964).

Religion plays an important role in Brazilian cinema—for example, one of the few Brazilian films to win the Palme d’Or is the masterful The Given Word. Is this connection a part of what makes Brazilian cinema so potent for the local community? Religious symbolism and religious beliefs are extremely significant in Brazilian cinema. Its presence in cinema seems to address our daily challenges, rituals, history, but not always apologetically—as you can see in the despair of Zé do Burro in The Given Word. Religion does not seem to help him. There’s nowhere to run. The spiritual belief, as well as the cross itself, is a weight on his shoulders.

So you see, religion in Brazilian cinema is so potent because we can think beyond it, we can understand how people relate to their beliefs and how sometimes religion can fail a person. That’s what happens when a priest falls in love with a local girl (The Priest and the Girl), when a curse falls upon a man who turns against his people (The Turning Wind), when we teach fear and sin to young girls (Heart and Guts), when religion becomes a determining way of life that does not pay back efforts (Divine Love), when we accept the possibility of going against religious institutions (José Mojica Marin’s, AKA Coffin Joe, films).

We have all these movies fascinated by religion and how it creates meaning in our society. This is just from Christianity, because if we think of African and Indigenous heritage, we have another whole dimension of films to reflect upon, such as Noirblue and the documentary Ex-Pajé.

We have some Brazilian films in our Official Top 100 by Women Directors list, including The Second Mother, which sits in the top five with City of God. Who are some overlooked female Brazilian filmmakers that you want to celebrate and put on our map? Undoubtedly Juliana Rojas and Gabriela Amaral Almeida. They’re both on the horror scene and their work is astonishing. I strongly recommend Hard Labor and Rojas’ latest film Good Manners (if you are into werewolves). I can’t even pick one for Almeida—The Father’s Shadow and Friendly Beast are awesome. Beatriz Seigner’s The Silences—filmed in the frontier between Brazil, Colombia, and Peru—is really impactful. Glenda Nicácio’s films, co-directed with Ary Rosa, are among my favorite recent Brazilian films. Watch To the End immediately!

Eduardo Coutinho’s ‘Twenty Years Later’ (1984).

Brazilian documentarian Eduardo Coutinho has not one, not two, but three of his films in the Official Top 100 Documentaries list, including the all-time number one Twenty Years Later. Can you describe Coutinho’s significance in Brazil? Coutinho is a monument! Coutinho is an institution! Coutinho is everything. His works are of strong political importance, as you can see in Twenty Years Later. A movie he was making in 1964 was interrupted by the dictatorship installed in Brazil, and the main actor and activist, João Pedro Teixeira, was murdered, then his wife Elizabeth Teixeira had to flee and change her identity.

The documentary follows Coutinho and his crew looking for the actors from his movie from twenty years before. Later, his works developed many different tones and formats as you can see in Playing, an experimental portrayal of real women and their personal experiences side-by-side with actresses representing their real-life events as if in a play. Playing was one of the mandatory films to be analyzed for [my] Film School entrance exam, so I had to watch it a million times in 2017. His works are profound studies on Brazilian people and culture—piercing, but also delicate.

Contemporary documentaries are also doing well; Petra Costa’s latest, The Edge of Democracy, was nominated for an Oscar, and Emicida: AmarElo – It’s All for Yesterday was briefly Letterboxd’s highest-rated film late last year. How are these docs tapping into the zeitgeist? Those are both very different films. Emicida is part of a strong and structured movement against racism, against the marginalization of Black people, against limiting the access to art and culture to certain social groups, which is a common practice in the history of this country. Petra Costa’s documentary is another form of reflection on contemporary politics but in a melancholic tone since, recently in Brazil, we have been facing political storms such as the impeachment of ex-president Dilma Roussef, the imprisonment of ex-president Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva (who has recently been declared not guilty), and rising far-right politicians. Not to mention another of our losses, the still-unsolved killing of Marielle Franco, a Black and lesbian political representative. These films have helped us face these difficulties and try to gather some hope for the future.

Bárbara Colen (center) and villagers in ‘Bacurau’ (2019).

How has Brazil’s cinema industry been affected by the one-two punch of the pandemic on top of ongoing social and political issues? And, can you talk a bit about how the acclaimed Cannes-winner Bacurau shocked the nation two years ago, and in what ways the film confronted these problems? This question is challenging because there’s so much happening. At this moment, we have 428,000 deaths [from] Covid and we are still mourning the Jacarézinho favela massacre in Rio de Janeiro. We have very troubled political representatives that are not fighting Covid in an adequate way to say the least, and we have had major cut downs in the cultural sector since, in Brazil, a lot of artistic and cultural projects are developed with governmental incentives. It is hard to produce art without institutional support and it is very complicated to produce art during this tragic pandemic.

Right before this chaos, we had Bacurau. Actually, I have a pleasant anecdote about my experience with Bacurau. Everybody was talking about how it was going to premiere at a special event with the presence of its directors. We had some expectations regarding the premiere because it was going to be free of charge and it would take place at the heart of São Paulo, the Avenida Paulista, in an immense theater.

We arrived at 1pm to form a line and people were there already. I discovered through Twitter that the first boy in line was hungry so I gave him a banana. I had brought a lot of snacks. The line was part of the event, and it got so long you couldn’t believe it. It was great to see so many friends and people gathered to see a movie—and such an important movie! There weren’t enough seats for everyone but they exhibited the film in two different rooms so more people could enjoy it.

I love everything about that day and I think it helps me to have some perspective on cinema, culture, politics and what we can accomplish by working collectively—people uniting to fight dirty politicians, people joining forces to fight social menaces, generosity, empathy, fight for justice and the power of the masses.

The life of 17th-century nun Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz is explored in María Luisa Bemberg’s ‘Yo, la Peor de Todas’ (I, the Worst of All, 1990).

Would you like to highlight some films from your neighboring countries? I have been watching some fascinating films from South America. Bolivian filmmaker Jorge Sanjinés has an extensive filmography and his films were the first to portray characters speaking Aymara. I really like his Ukamau. I also love Argentine director María Luisa Bemberg’s films, such as I, the Worst of All. I’m currently studying Jayro Bustamante’s La Llorona, from Guatemala. I have no words to say how incendiary this film is. You’ll have to watch it for yourself!

Who are three Brazilian members that you recommend we all follow? Firstly, I recommend you follow my beautiful partner in crime and cinema, Pedro Britto. Secondly, a fantastic painter and avid researcher of Maya Deren and Agnès Varda, my adored friend Tainah Negreiros. Finally, I recommend you follow Gustavo Menezes, who is the author of many excellent lists [about] Brazilian cinema. He’s also the co-founder of a streaming platform called Cinelimite, which everyone should take a look at.

Related content

Silvia’s Cinema Novo list

Gabriela’s Cinema Brasileiro master list

Serge’s list of films that have won the Grande Otelo (Grande Prêmio de Cinema Brasileiro for Best Film)

Follow Erika on Letterboxd, Tumblr and in print

Follow Jack on Letterboxd

[se-ono-waise-ilia]

I hate it when you leave me unattended (version 2)

I hate it when you leave me unattended - version 2 (less mature content to meet Yamanaka week guidelines)

Summary: Ino contemplates her unsatisfying intimate life at a bar packed full of couples experiencing the opposite perspective, much to her frustration. Yamanaka week 2021 submission!

Pairings: Ino x Sai, Temari x Shikamaru, Sasuke x Naruto, Sakura x Kakashi, Tenten x Yamato, Hinata x surprise! (hint, features some cloud nin)

Heads up: This is a story of our beloved shinobi enjoying adulthood, and ignores the existence of the Boruto universe.  

Warning: Rated M for implied suggestive/ smutty themes, alcohol, and a few curse words (but toned down from original version, still rated it M to be safe)

Title from the song "Pretty Please"

Read original NSFW version here on ff.net

Ino couldn't stop listening. Did the content of Temari and Shikamaru's sex life intrigue her? Repulsively so. But did it also make her want to weep in champagne problems despair? Absolutely.

The former Suna nin took another long dredge of her tall glass of sake that wasn't meant to be served in a portion that big (Ino concluded that Temari had simply filled a water glass with sake - which was a fantastic idea), and continued to boast to Ino about the delights of her devastatingly erotic sex life. The telepathic kunoichi was simultaneously transfixed and infuriated.

Recently, the sexual aspect of Ino and Sai's marriage had been... unsatisfying. She was 27 and had been married one year. It was a great marriage. No, it was a wonderful marriage, dammit! The two leaf nin were supportive and loving partners to one another. They were best friends, made each other laugh, had incredible teamwork as roommates and shopkeepers and ninjas. Most importantly: they were in love.

But ... Ino slouched further into the booth of the cozy and dimly lit basement bar... their sexual chemistry as of late had been ... on different pages, to say the least.

As Temari continued to shamelessly drone on about Shikamaru’s bedroom performance (Ino simmered in her jealously.  How did Temari get so lucky?!), Ino tried to distract herself from envious feelings as she gazed around the bar of familiar friends.

It had been ten years since the ninja war ended, and the whole world was celebrating with numerous festivities for the month. Yes, a whole month. It was incredible to celebrate at this capacity.

On this particular night of celebration, many Konoha jonins, the Hokage and foreign friends had all ended up in the basement of a sake brewery in the trendy night life part of Konoha. Leaf nin had spent the day hosting part one of a showy games tournament featuring prominent war shinobi, and now they were here.

Much to the dismay of the internal turmoil Ino was experiencing, almost everyone in the goddamn bar was oozing sexual chemistry with their partner.

The most blatant example was the infamous war heroes and star crossed lovers, who were playing what should have been a very simple game of trivia with the Hokage and forehead. Evidently, the teams were Kakashi & Naruto vs Sakura & Sasuke. When Sakura asked Sasuke a question, Naruto attempted to sabotage his dark haired lover with publicly inappropriate neck kisses and ear bites. Sasuke appeared to know the answer to the question, but couldn't seem to voice it through clenched teeth.

Ino stared slack jawed at the unfolding steamy scene. Temari had seemed to stop her rambling to also watch, "How's Hokage-sama going to sabotage Sakura with his mask on?" she bit her glass afterwards because that's a thing drunk people do.

The answer presented itself when Sasuke shoved Naruto off of him, spoke (more like yelled) the correct answer, and asked Sakura some sort of question regarding the history of the senbon. All too casually, their esteemed Hokage wrapped Sakura's pink tresses around his fingers and gave a slight tug. Sakura seemed to melt in response, yet was able to answer correctly whilst melting (to the irritation of Sasuke and delight of Kakashi).

Ino looked to her own long blonde tresses, a generous length that could be easily pulled with sensual intent. She wanted Sai to pull her hair. She would have to tell him to do so.

And that was the root of their recent sexual incompatibility: Sai needed to be told what to do.

At the beginning of their relationship about three years ago, Ino didn't mind this quirk one bit. She relished in being assertive and directive in the bedroom. It made her feel in control and empowered. Sai gladly bent to her every whim and want. She knew exactly how she wanted to be satisfied, and how she wanted to satisfy her man, and it was amazing. All she had to do was tell him what she wanted.

But recently, Ino wasn't as satisfied. She wasn't interested in directing every aspect of their sex lives. She wanted Sai to take initiative. To know her wants without her telling him. To openly lust after her. To kiss her neck and bite her ears with cruel and pleasurable intentions. To tug her hair with the confidence and sensuality.

Alas, he didn't operate like that, and their sex life had suffered for it. It was ironic that Ino wanted him to read her mind, knowing he couldn't (he could barely read body language cues when naked for kami's sake). These past few weeks, that should have been full of post-party drunken banging, Ino had stopped initiating sex altogether.

Evidently Sai interpreted his wife's lack of initiative as Ino not wanting sex.

Which she desperately did!

Watching her best friend melt at the touch of her older lover's clever and commanding fingers in only her hair was the essence of Ino's recent fantasies.

Huffing in frustration, the telepathic nin chose to get herself a drink and find her man and wack him in his stupid expressionless face with her ponytail.

At the bar, Tenten was waiting for her drink with Darui from Kumogakure. Ino perked up at the idea of spending time with the head strong weapons master who was in a new relationship with Yamato. Knowing Tenten's strong will and the captain's bashful sweetness, Ino figured Tenten's presence would be cathartic. Surely they also had a similar dynamic in the bedroom?

As she got closer, she realized Darui must be unaware of Tenten's relationship update. While engaged in an animated discussion regarding the senbon trivia question, he was leaning towards her with an obvious vibe that he was interested in more than just senbons, yet respectably keeping his hands to himself.

Ino ordered her drink close to Tenten and was about to do the classic your-boyfriend-is-looking-for-you tactic, but Tenten's actual boyfriend did it for her. With much less tact.

Yamato had his scary shadowed face on as he appeared quite close to his new girlfriend, "Darui-san."

The cloud nin immediately noticed the proximity as he realized their status and leaned away, "I apologize Tenten-san if I made your uncomfortable. Good to see you Yamato-san, can I buy you both a drink?" Casual and cool as always, even when in an awkward faux pas. He didn't seem affected by the implication of Yamato's interruption.

The shadows left Yamato's face as he nodded in polite thanks and wrapped an arm around Tenten's waist. She didn't seem to mind the masculine possessiveness, as she kissed her new boyfriend on the cheek. Yamato reacted by taking her bar stool and placing her on his lap while gushing with the prior-war general about how they were a new couple. Darui lifted his cup to them.

Sai never placed Ino on his lap, she always sat there on her own accord. Ino sighed as she took a long sip of her fresh drink. She now bet that Yamato didn't need to be told what to do in bed. 

Ino shook her head and took her drink and continued to look for her not-possessive husband who was quite unlikely to brush off flirtatious encounters with territorial drive.

She passed by the trivia game again, which now included Shikamaru and Temari. It was the disgruntled nin's turn to answer Kakashi's question regarding the most ideal way to negotiate a deal with Iwakagure to encourage artisans to move to Konoha. It was obvious to everyone except a very drunk Temari, who was leaning over her husband's shoulders and licking his cheek, that Kakashi was milking the strategist's presence for work purposes.

"Troublesome trivia question Kakashi," the shadow nin eyed the Hokage knowingly, yet he quickly generated a response...while sensually stroking his wife's calf.  Ino couldn't help but storm off to the opposite side of the bar.

She finally found Sai ... with Hinata and Omoi? Ino felt a sense of dread as she approached the trio and comprehended the word's coming from her out-of-touch husband's mouth, "Omoi-san, notice how Hinata-san flushed when you told rambled about how fireworks could somehow lead to a misunderstanding that could cause the break of the alliance between the cloud and the leaf? You two are cute together," he made that neutral smile towards the two anxious nin, who clearly only amplified each other's insecure quirks.

Ino rushed over to shove her clueless husband and save this catastrophic set-up, "Omoi-san, I believe Darui-taichou wanted to meet Hinata-chan? Seeing as he's being groomed to be the next Raikage, it's important to have a continued positive relationship with the Hyuga clan."

Hinata looked to the bar, blushed (the way she used to at Naruto, indicating she found the cloud nin attractive), and pulled at her long hair nervously, "I-I-I don't think now's the time for me to meet Darui-sama. We should h-h-have a more formal meet-"

Omoi seemed contemplative at the idea, "If Hinata-san and Darui-taichou meet at a bar, what if he buys her a drink? Then, what if they flirt and have good chemistry? Then Hinata-san will bring Darui to the Hyuga clan, who will undoubtedly speculate his intentions for her. But Darui-tachou is an honorable man, and will prove his love for the Hyuga princess with..."

Ino was surprised to find herself enfolded with Omoi's romantic tangent. Darui's calm nature would be good for Hinata, his status of decorated war general and upcoming Raikage was worthy of the heiress's stature, and (if they made it work) the match could be a beautiful symbol of forgiveness and peace between the two village's violent history. Although Ino's spontaneous idea of an introduction was quick thinking of how to salvage the awkward chemistry between anxious nin, this was a fantastic opportunity.

While Omoi continued to ramble about how Hinata would adjust to life as the Raikage's wife, with his ever present lollipop somehow staying in his mouth, Hinata's breathing intensified and she started to fan herself. Ino took her now sweaty hair out of the nervous nin's fidgety hands to style it in a thick side braid, modeled how to breathe slowly, all the while nodding in approval of Omoi's outrageous fantasy that was very romantic and actually a really good idea.

Ino curtly told Omoi to shut it, folded his arm to formally hold Hinata's in the crook of his elbow for a proper escort, and shoved them in the direction of the bar. Ino also told Hinata she could only fidget with the bottom portion of the braid.

Sai was about to say something, when Ino covered his mouth with her hand in shushing manner. Although she had been looking for her oblivious idiot of a husband all night, she was now invested this potential pairing, and for the first time tonight her sexual frustration wasn't at the forefront of her mind. She grabbed Sai's hand to pull him closer to the trivia game so she could watch from a better view.

Darui was quick to notice Hinata's approach, as he quickly stood with uncharacteristic alertness. He bowed quite formally, Hinata bowed back and also greeted Tenten and Yamato (who took a hint, excused themselves, and took Omoi with them). Damui offered the shy beauty his bar stool, asked her a question to which she bashfully answered without making eye contact, and he ordered her a drink. Ino couldn't hear them, but she was quick to deduce that the war general was quite taken with the angelic Hyuga princess. A few Hyuga also present at the bar noticed the exchange with the prominent cloud nin, and were quick to put themselves on duty standing by Hinata's side in a chaperone/ bodyguard manner. Damui was unfazed as he greeted them respectfully and ordered them drinks as well. Hinata seemed to appreciate this courtesy as she gazed at the captain with admiration while fiddling with the bottom of her braid.

Ino was so involved in the romantic spark struck at the bar she almost didn't notice Sai's hand was gently caressing the back of her arm with his knuckles. It took several moments for Ino to register the touch and look up into her husband's eyes in confusion. He had never pulled that move on her before, let alone any moves of this nature.

His almost expressionless face conveyed something sincere that Ino couldn't put her finger on. Yet she relished in this gentle moment of intimacy, leaning into him and nuzzling his tall and lean form as he put his arm around her and rested his chin on her head. The future romance of Hinata and Damui didn't seem too important anymore. Sai was holding her, and nothing else mattered.

It was then she noticed that right in front of them, Kakashi was brushing the back of Sakura's arm with his knuckle, and Sakura was looking into the Hokage's eyes as if all her dreams had come true. Kakashi then leaned in to whisper something into her best friend's ear.

Sai lifted Ino's chin so he could do the same, "I miss touching you, Ino," he whispered into her ear. She looked up to meet his hooded eyes and observe his gorgeous oval face.

Heat pooled at Ino's core as her husband made her feel aroused for the first time in far too long. How tempted she wanted to say something sly like "Kiss me like you miss me," and jump into his waiting arms. She almost did, so they could once again be that shameless couple who blatantly made out in public. Such fond memories.

It was so tempting, but it struck Ino that in all their relationship, Sai had been learning how to be intimate solely from her cues. She looked to the various styles of physical flirtation happening at this steamy trivia table. Perhaps Sai should start learning from others...

She eagerly leaned up to whisper into her artist's ear, "Then touch me like they touch their lovers," she then blew into his ear to get him in the mood, and dragged him to the trivia table.

It was Naruto's turn to answer a question about the political process of appointing a feudal lord. Instead of answering, he was glaring at Sasuke who was sitting smug with his one arm resting on the back of his chair, "Teme, you're supposed to...you know...sabotage!"

"The game implies you only sabotage if you know the answer, which you don't, userantonkachi," the arrogant nin responded with a knowing smirk. Naruto banged his head onto the table in disappointment.

Temari cackled at the fox-carrier's misfortune, and then prompted the new players, "Sai-kun! Your question is..." Ino excitedly prepared to sabotage her man as she sat closer to him on the bench. Should she use her fingers, lips, breath, hair...so many choices! It had been weeks since she felt hopeful at the thought of touching her lover, "Name the second Mizukage's summoning."

Ino started dancing her fingers on Sai's thigh when he answered all too quickly, "Giant clam."

The would-be temptress wanted to smack him. Sai didn't get the point of how to really have fun with this game! She was about to remove her hand, when he grabbed it. She glared at him, willing him to know what was wrong without her having to spell it out for him, but then she noticed his vacant expression. That meant he was trying to understand.

"So when it's Ino's turn, I'm expected to sabotage her if she knows the answer?" He looked to his friends, "How?"

"Like this, Sai," Naruto was all too enthusiastic to explain as he attempted to again assault Sasuke's ear, but the raven-haired nin quickly shoved his hand into Naruto's cheek to block him.

Sai continued to stare with his vacant expression, "Molest your partner against their will?"

The table reacted with vigorous "no no no" and head shakes.

Temari whispered something into Shikamaru's ears. He sighed, "Such a drag. Sai, pick a card and ask Temari a question. Notice what I do."

Sai obeyed and picked a card, "Temari-san, which hand symbol is most commonly used by sensory type nin." Ino had to bite her lip from blurting out the answer. Sai gave her a knowing look, and she couldn't help but peck her cute husband on the cheek.

The wind user's eyes brightened, "Oh, I think I remember this one," but those same eyes quickly grew hooded as the shadow user pulled down the shoulder of her dress and placed featherlight kisses upon the newly bared skin. Sai nodded his head in understanding.

"Time's up," Kakashi chuckled after about 10 seconds. Temari didn't seem to care as she leaned into her husband with a drunken smile.

Shikamaru smirked at his beloved then looked back to Sai, "By sabotage, it means distract your partner with attention of a sensual nature to prevent them from answering."

Sai nodded, "So who's winning?"

He received a variety of shrugs. Sakura giggled, "Naruto and Kakashi have a consistent losing streak."

Naruto growled as Sai looked quizzically at the Hokage. Said leader of the village shrugged with a closed eye smile, "Sakura's public displays of affection interest me more than answering a trivial question correctly."

Sakura stopped giggling, "I knew I shouldn't have bothered when you claimed to not know any demonic illusion genjutsu hand symbols!"

"The things your hand symbolized on my leg were a much more tantalizing way to capture my imagination and enjoy the game," his eyes fixed on Sakura's.

She stared right back at him and bit her lip, "Well I expect you to be creative with your hand symbols tonight."

"When am I ever not?" said the nin with confidence as he pulled the medic nin onto his lap and nuzzled her neck. Sakura blushed while laughing at the tickling sensations. From what Sakura shared with Ino during girl's night, all of those years of Kakashi reading porn resulted in quite an adventurous sex life. Ino had never been more jealous of forehead in her life.

Ino looked to Sai with hopeful eyes. Perhaps she and him should start reading erotic literature? He nodded in partial understanding, with that expression he always makes when he's learning something new, and pulled Ino onto his lap. The blonde excitedly moved her long hair to her opposite shoulder and prepared herself for the delights of nuzzling, but instead she felt Sai simply press his face into the crook of her neck.

It wasn't a playful act, Ino noticed as his arms tightened around her. It was an act of ... longing. She was beginning to realize that Sai missed being intimate with her as much as she did with him. She crossed her arms to also wrap them around his, tightening the embrace as she leaned into him.

"Sasuke, are you OK?" Naruto asked his boyfriend, who looked repulsed by the scene in front of him.

The raven haired man pointedly looked away from his ex-teacher and teammate to pick a card from the pile, "Ino, this question is for you," she and Sai perked their heads up. She wanted to get excited to see what Sai would do, but she also didn't want to get her hopes up. Should she just put Sai's hands where she wanted them to control her pleasure, as she used to? But she really wanted him to take initiative...

Ino let out a breath. She already told Sai she wanted him to observe and replicate, and the rest was up to him. He was in learning mode, he could figure this out. She believed in her husband.

"What is the clan symbol for the Tsuchigumo clan?"

Ino had no idea.

Sai lifted her wrist and started to draw a design above her pulse. It felt lovely, but it wasn't affection at the same level as the other couples. Then she realized he was making the symbol.

Her beloved had yet to grasp the fun of the game, as he was actually helping her win as he drew a spider on her pulse. She sighed in acceptance. Was her husband as sex-driven as the other males at the table? No. But does he support and care for Ino? Always. When Ino reflected on it, that mattered more in their marriage.

As she was about to announce the answer, she was interrupted by an accusatory forehead, "That's cheating!"

While at the same time, Kakashi suggested, "Sai, use your tongue."

The moment Sai heeded the Hokage's recommendation to draw a spider on her pulse with his tongue, Ino lost the ability to speak as she tried to hold back her whimpering. She never realized how sensitive a wrist could be before.

"Time's up," Shikamaru announced with a smirk.

Ino paid them little attention as they moved onto the next question, for Sai touched his mouth to her ear,  "Can we please make love tonight?" he whispered. If she wasn't mistaken, there was a rare hint of yearning in it. Ino hadn't been this turned on in months.

She stood to reverse her position and straddle him, "That depends, my love. What have you learned tonight?"

Sai was taken aback, but he concentrated, "Use knuckles to caress skin, kiss your shoulders, put you on my lap, place my face into the crook of your neck," which he did, "and lick you in unexpected places," which he also did, and experienced her collarbone being licked for the first time in her life.

Ino felt her body shiver with anticipation.

"And pull her hair!" Temari joyfully recommended, almost falling out of her husband's lap.

"Grazing skin with your teeth will get a reaction too," Naruto proudly chimed in, much to the embarrassment of Sasuke.

"Pick her up and be creative with your environment," Kakashi winked.

"Don't just wait for her to tell you what to do. Take initiative," Sakura directed, the best friend in the world that she is.

Sai dutifully nodded to all these recommendations. As fun as it would be to stay, it had been too long and they were both about to burst with desire, "Take me home, Sai."

Following Kakashi's suggestion, Sai stood straight up, lifting Ino with him. As she tightened her legs around him so he could make the proper symbols for his transportation jutsu, she looked to Sakura and Temari and mouthed 'thank you' to them both.

"Have fuuuuuun," Sakura winked as the Hokage gave them a thumbs up.

"Show her a good time Sai!" Temari squealed as Shikamaru asked Naruto to get them water.

And then they were home. And then they were kissing. And then ... oh ... Sai was a dutiful student.

---

A/N: I told ya it was still M rated.  I cut a few hundred words I guess.  If you want the slightly longer & steamier version, click here to view story on fanfiction.net.

I actually played this steamy sabotage style of trivia at a house party when my partner and I were a new couple. It was super fun. But the game only works if every couple wants to play it that way. We realized that when some of our friends in less affectionate relationships were super uncomfortable lol...

Anyone else into the idea of Hinata x Damui?

@yamanaka-week

[the-creative-lounge-blog]

Third Shift Kakashi - A Lounge Round Robin Story

In this modern AU in-server event for November, Loungers tell the tale of Kakashi's night shift at a convenience store/gas station one sentence at a time.

What is a round robin story? A round robin story is a story that is written by multiple people. Participants take turns contributing a sentence. The last sentence is sent to the next person, who adds their sentence, and then the process repeats through an established amount of time (our event lasted one week).

Participants in Third Shift Kakashi were contacted via DM with the last sentence, and they replied with one new sentence.

Often, round robin stories don’t make sense and they’re meant to make us laugh. To ensure this, a ridiculous topic was chosen from among the MANY fantastic plot bunnies that are Kakashi Lounge-originals:

Third shift Kakashi: Our favorite tired ninja dork punches in at 10pm to begin his third shift at the 7-11 (or Speedway, Circle K, Kwik Trip, or your country's equivalent of a 24-hour gas station/convenience store). Strange things happen during his nightshift but participants decide what those things are. The Slurpee machine gains sentience. Ōtsutsuki aliens land in the parking lot. Cheeto-fingers Obito tries to steal jerky. Deidara tries to use a fake ID to buy beer. Granny Chiyo comes in and pays with pennies. Any and all of these are believable occurrences from 10pm-6am, and more. The weirder, the better.

The only rules were to keep it rated T, and no romantic pairings.

This dumpster fire masterpiece of a round robin story was written by: @maiikawriter, @fleuraison7, Kitera_Matar, /vastments, @mouseymightymarvellous, @thetoxicstrawberry, @myaekingheart, @mallml, @nibbler747, @syusukewrites, @asiriyep, @azuzel23, @tenzosnewleaf, and @hkandiu (all contributed sentences are in italics and each are double-spaced) with opening and closing paragraphs written by @ohayohimawari:

Kakashi sighed as he punched in twelve minutes late to his shift. He’d been late enough times to warrant a written warning from management, but that threat was nothing compared to what he experienced during his overnight shifts at Konoha’s 24/7 convenience store. He pulled his book out of his back pocket with more hope than expectation that he’d actually find time to read amidst the strange things that occurred between 10 pm and 6 am. 

Yukiko and her lover were just getting around to second base and ready to confess their love in this chapter when he’d had to leave for work.

Kakashi pocketed the worn Icha Icha volume reluctantly, hoping for a quiet shift so that he could dive into it again later, and took his prepared bag to head out to his workplace.

Kakashi walked through the store, prepared bag in hand, Icha Icha in his pocket, and sighed as he saw the repeat customer hovering by the front counter.

“No, Naruto, we still haven’t received the limited edition Gutsy Shinobi ramen cups; I told you I’ll call you if we get them.”

Kakashi never heard Naruto’s reply, because his voice was suddenly drowned out by the deep growl of engines pulling into the station, and any hope he had for an uneventful shift was dashed just as quickly as Naruto’s chance of indulging in the delicious goodness of Gutsy Shinobi ramen with the arrival of the Akatsuki Biker Gang.

The group of delinquents strolled into the store as if they owned the place, all sporting matching black leather jackets with red cloud patches on the shoulders and back--an omen that things were about to go south very quickly.

Without seeming to lift his eyes from his book, Kakashi sighed to himself as he watched them clumsily stuff candy bars and Slim Jims under their jackets... were the Akatsuki having an initiation night?

Should he bother confronting them?  The long expired Slim Jims they were about to partake in might be punishment enough.

Kakashi put on his best fake customer service smile and didn't say anything - whatever they were stealing, he wasn't paid enough to care.

He sighed. ‘Sir, if you lick the candy bars one more time it’s a week ban. Not so funny when you can’t get those stale nachos, huh?’

Just to prove his point, and maybe because he was feeling a bit exasperated by now, Kakashi carefully unwrapped a candy bar of his own and inhaled the whole thing in two seconds beneath his mask - leaving the visitor stunned, staring wide-eyed with new appreciation at the silver-haired man’s obvious authority on the subject of candy-bar licking.

"Ew," Naruto reminded Kakashi of his presence at the same time that Deidara tried to sneak a six-pack of Budweiser beneath his shirt, so he changed tack to deal with the Akatsuki Biker Gang because he wanted to keep his loyal customers.

Although, 'loyal customers' was a bit of a stretch at times; yes, they frequented the place often, but more often than not they also gave him quite the headache.

He was too tired for this shit at this hour of the day. 

Kakashi did what he was best at - feigning boredom and being unaffected by what was happening in the hope that the problem solved itself.

Kakashi pulled out his beloved Icha Icha and proceeded to hide behind the vivid orange cover as he ignored the problem happening in front of him.

The Akatsuki biker gang couldn’t be so easily ignored, as Hidan proved when he snatched the orange book from Kakashi’s hand.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Kakashi said pleasantly, his best customer service smile sharp as blades under his mask, “but that’s not for sale.”

Hidan squinted and flipped the book sideways in a gesture that made Kakashi think he had never held a book before, let alone read one, and Kakashi’s eyes flicked to the closed-circuit camera in the corner as he contemplated forgoing his service training in order to retrieve it, but stopped when he noticed the suspicious red smudges that the man’s fingertips left behind on the cover of his cherished Icha Icha.

It was too bright to be anything ominous - in fact, it matched the same shade as the cherry-flavored Slurpee they offered - but Kakashi wasn’t about to let Hidan slide on stealing a mouthful of frozen delight, or marring his favorite book, so he growled, “You owe me two dollars for the drink and a new copy of Icha-Icha.”

"Two dollars!--look, I'd pay ya, but my partner's a real Stooge [sic] with the purse strings... how 'bout I make it up to you in the stock room instead, if you know what I mean?" the gray-haired religious fetishist suggested with a waggle of eyebrows.

Kakashi considered the offer as it would lessen his shift duties and afford more time to read, however, just then his, Naruto’s, and every head belonging to the Akatsuki biker gang turned to the main entrance when the cheerful ding sounded announcing the arrival of another repeat customer, Granny Chiyo, with her fists full of scratch-off lottery tickets.

Granny Chiyo, was a legend not just for being the bad-ass take no names grandmother of one of the more dangerous Akatsuki gang members, but also for being thrifty.  She slammed the scratch off lottery tickets on the counter, and reached into her jacket and pulled out Kakashi's most dreaded item - the jar of pennies.

She placed the jar on the counter with a loud clunk before reaching inside and pulling out pennies one by one, counting them on the counter under her breath. "This will only take a moment" she assured him, "I want to be precise!"

Kakashi took in the mayhem around him with a glazed 100-meter stare.  There'd been worse nights, right? No machetes yet, right? All he needed was to make it to break time and have a smoke. 10 minutes.. Kakashi inhaled deeply and cleared his throat 'Take ALL the time you need Ma'am.'  He shouldn't get involved right? He needed to man the till, right?

Kakashi smiled at Chiyo who was determined to pay for her weird collection of knickknacks with a gajillion pennies, but couldn't help glancing at the security camera that showed an energetic teenager mid-dance battle with the local biker gang; the only thing more bizarre would be Gai showing up to join them and to be honest he wouldn't be surprised.

The universe was not about to pass over an opportunity like that; if Kakashi had learned anything in his long years, it was that the best way to handle the sudden burst of GREEN and NOISE that assaulted his senses (out of seemingly nowhere) was to remain calm and tip a casual “Yo” to his rival while keeping an eye on Chiyo, the teenager, the biker gang, and the dance battle all at once... Gai would probably join the dance battle in a few minutes anyway.

Because, hello my dear, he wasn't going to leave his dignity in pieces. Better dead than ridiculous ... Although maybe ...?

He ran a hand through his already unruly hair as he rolled his shoulders, getting ready for whatever lay ahead; a quick glance at the clock confirmed his shift still had a long ways to go.

There was no time to relax when the biker gang was already making a move on some products, thinking he wouldn’t notice.

Kakashi decided that losing his job over a bunch of tough dudes acting like broke teenagers wasn't worth it, so he strode over to them first; maybe Gai would help him if they got violent - not that Kakashi would need help with that though.

And that was when it all exploded as Gai joined the dance battle causing them to knock over a display onto the Akatsuki teenage biker gang who exploded in rage causing both the aged Chiyo and Naruto to get knocked to the ground.

Kakashi in panic rushed to Naruto almost running over the old Chiyo and got out his flute then started to bang in on poor knocked-out Naruto's head, the Akatsuki teenage biker gang all nodded as they understood that it was an extremely necessary step of Cardiopulmonary resuscitation.

Gai—either unconcerned, not noticing the damage, or convinced that anything can be solved with the power of dance—dropped to the ground in an impressive worm, once more pulling the attention of the Akatsuki members.

Instigated by the impromptu dance party, the eccentric masked Akatsuki member jumped up onto a tower of canned diet Coke and started beat boxing, and Kakashi could only watch in horror as Gai’s worm morphed into break dancing.

Kakashi sighed and rubbed his tired eyes from behind the counter as he watched Gai break dance down the snack aisle to the rhythm of the masked man's beatboxing, onlookers pumping their fists and cheering as another Akatsuki gang member started to rap about how "art is an explosion."

'What the hell,' was the thought that echoed through Kakashi's aching head with increasing volume; what the hell indeed?--and as he ripped off his red vest  and leapt to the top of the counter, the crowd, one by one, turned toward him and fell silent: the cheering onlookers, the masked beat-boxer, the pony-tailed blond... until, at last, the only sound and movement was the frenzied tricking of Gai as the spandex-clad man danced on, unaware.

As he crouched on the counter he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go through with this - but desperate times called for desperate measures.  He grabbed a Slim Jim and held it up as a mic.  There was only one song that would shut them up.

Kakashi started the song softly, but got louder with each word, one hand leading the dance as he ever so slightly got closer to the crowd and then- 3am really was the witching hour, huh? - the crowd joined his dance and with each Ey macarena they were inching a little closer towards the exit in perfect synchrony.

Just then, Naruto regained consciousness and after blinking several times at the chaotic crowd, exclaimed, “What happened to the old lady that was here?”

Kakashi dropped the Slim Jim mic at these words, and glanced where Chiyo had once stood only to find a list of her purchases and her payment-the jar of pennies-waiting to be counted. He ran a hand down his face, noticed the mess below the dripping slurpee machine, spied Deidara passed out in a corner with empty beer cans around him, Kisame and Itachi not-so-secretly pocketing sunglasses, while Hidan sang and Gai danced on with abandon.

Irritably grabbing the mop for what would not be the last time that night, Kakashi unceremoniously stepped over Naruto.

Kakashi briefly considered whether or not this job was really worth the $7.25 per hour it paid him, before surreptitiously mopping himself within a meter of Itachi and Kisame, who he surprised with a heavy “Thwack!” of the mop handle across the backs of both their legs, causing them each to drop a pair of sunglasses and clap their hands across their backsides to smooth the stinging sensation.

He laughed devilishly, enjoying the momentary respite  from the craziness of the shift and the antics of his so-called customers; was anyone actually buying anything tonight?

No matter, they didn’t need to, as long as they would get out.

But they just wouldn't get out, so Kakashi had to take more drastic measures - the fire alarm would get him into trouble with his employer, faking a power failure seemed like a safe option though, so he went over to the power box, turned off the main switch and listened with a deep satisfaction to the surprised screams and commotions in the shop.

“Lights are out,” Kakashi stated obviously, walking carefully back towards the register, “so if everybody could put any unpurchased items down and carefully head towards the still illuminated exit signs, that would be greatly appreciated.”

There was a moment of silence, followed by murmuring, and then the faint crumpling sound of what was either plastic encased items being set aside, or even more likely, being concealed in pockets.

While Kakashi knew that letting customers get away with stealing would come back to haunt him if and when his boss found out, at this rate he quite frankly couldn't even care--and besides, with all the lights off, he doubted the security cameras would pick up anything anyway.

As the subdued miscreants groped blindly to the door, illuminated only by the impassive green of the EXIT sign, Kakashi breathed a sigh of relief that his shift was finally winding down--that is, until the resounding BOOM that echoed from the front parking lot.

The screech of tires, the thundering bass, it was a sound he was only too familiar with -  it could only be one man.

Finally, finally the whole bunch was gone, only to be replaced by the loudest most obnoxious person he could think of, but Killer B was a regular and as such Kakashi had to endure his bad rapping.

Kakashi threw his head back and softly yeeted with fingers pointed skywards "Pew, pew pew! Fxxx my life!"

As the giant strode inside, clapped his hands on the countertop at the register and whooped “Yo! Bakayaro! Konoyaro! Kakashi, better watch me, can’t copy me, yeeeahhh!” the shopkeep wondered where this cheerful monster had been earlier, when so many folks were acting the fool (no doubt Killer Bee would have assisted him in wiping the floor with two or five of the previous visitors); “Bee, my man, you have no idea the kind of night I’ve been having...”

Unfortunately for Kakashi, Bee had become distracted by a motion sensor dancing sunflower, and took its song as a challenge for a mini rap battle.

"Yo, this flower's got moves! Look at it swaying while I spit some rad tunes!" Bee enthused and all Kakashi could manage in reply was a tired "You should've seen the dance battle earlier."

Lifting up his sunglasses to peer more closely at Kakashi's face--how was he able to see with those on in the middle of the night? the silveret wondered--B  yelled concernedly, "Yo man, feeling tired? Uninspired? Say no more! Let's hit the door!" and, heedless of Kakashi's terrified recoil, scooped the smaller man up under his arm and boogied them to his ride, parked across three spaces in the parking lot.

“What is the meaning of this?” The assistant shift supervisor, Danzo, showed up at the door, with Konoha’s 24/7 general manager, Hiruzen, right behind him. 

“Um—” Kakashi began, and ended because there was no explaining it. 

“You’re fi—” 

“I quit!” Kakashi shouted, silencing Danzo. 

Bee brandished a peace sign while Kakashi offered a much ruder gesture and the pair took off in search of an after party, or a nap. 

Just then, Naruto-whom everyone forgot about-stepped out from behind an endcap of ramen cups. “Does this mean you’re hiring?” 

Hiruzen smiled, “I’ll get you an application.”

The End

 Do you have an idea for a title? Add it in the replies to this post!

[scrapironflotilla]

Anzac is so much more than Gallipoli

Another Anzac day has come around and with the lock-downs and global pandemic it seemed like it would be different. But having a listen to the news or a quick scroll through the other blue hellsite, F*c*b**k, it looks like this Anzac Day is more similar than different. The reverence, the mystique and the myths are all still there, with a massive dose of social media self indulgence. So I’ll probably stay away from that today and instead talk about some history.

I don’t have a favourite aspect of the Anzac legend. I don’t think I even can. The very concept of the Anzac Legend bothers me. This is our recent history. Its members, who have all died, are still within living memory of many millions of people. The events are so well documented that we can follow some of them minute by minute in the diaries, letters and reports created by the participants. I understand the desire to turn these stories into legend and myth, especially in a country like Australia after the war and certainly in the last decades of the 20th century.

I understand how the virtues and values of the AIF made for such fertile imaginative ground in an inter-war world. The romance of war, lost on the battlefields of Europe and the Middle East, was much harder to destroy far away in the colonies, where people experienced little hardship compared to those on the continent.

I understand how and why the AIF became a legend. But I don’t think I can believe in it.

But what does it matter if I believe in it or not? It’s important to tens of millions of Australians and the government tightly controls public commemoration and the Anzac brand. The military indoctrinates its members with to strive for an unattainable Anzac perfection. A newly minted army officer once told me that during his training his instructors had screamed at these cadets, ranting at them about how unworthy they were, how they could never live up to the Anzac reputation and how they could never lead a digger.

It draws hundreds of thousands every 25 April to dawn memorial services across the world, in events whose gravitas and sombre communion even I can’t deny. It’s this secular religion that makes the legend a reality that we have to contend with. The history may vary widely from the myth, but the myth is potent enough and popular enough to be able to divorce itself from the past. “The AIF”, historian Peter Stanley points out, “has become revered as [our] romantic nationalist mystique”.

The last two or three decades has seen a steady dismantling of the Anzac legend, at least in academic circles. All its basic tenets of natural fighting prowess, mate-ship, equality and the rest have been questioned, criticised and reassessed. But this new understanding hasn’t moved far beyond academia. The short spike in Anzac TV series during the centenary showed the same romantic tragedy and nationalist triumphalism. Popular histories from the 50s and 60s were reprinted and a new slew of books turn up on shelves, from children’s books to all kinds of history and dozens of romance novels. The legend remains deeply entrenched in the Australian imagination. Little in the popular realm even attempts to challenge it in light of new understanding. Even for those in academia the revision of that history has produced harsh reaction from the right, I’m exactly one of those “cadre of academics” associated with those elite, Canberra institutions, that noted crank Bendle talks about there. But that’s the strength of this legend. Its followers take any attempt to examine it and broaden it as denigration. Lest anyone think I’m exaggerating here, just have a look at what happened to ABC presenter Yassmin Abdel-Magied after she tweeted the words “LEST.WE.FORGET. (Manus, Nauru, Syria, Palestine...)” on Anzac Day 2017. She was attacked by the press and government ministers and bombarded with rape and death threats. There’s no doubt much of the faux outrage was inspired by racism and misogyny, but you don’t even need to attack Anzac, but merely recognise that Australia’s history is less than perfect, to be met with a violent, histrionic reaction.

To imagine that the Anzacs were perfect, individually and as a whole, is wilful delusion. They were men and as such fallible. It is no dishonour or disrespect to recognise their humanity in all its complexities. We must know and understand their failures, their embarrassments and their crimes (for they are many and varied) to better place their successes, victories and virtues. To deify them and to force them to represent only what was best, without recognising the fullness of their character, good and bad, robs them of the complexity of their own stories. It robs them of their humanity and us of our history. But while I struggle with the Anzac Legend, I also think there are some little stories that deserve better recognition.

The Anzac mythology upholds a very particular character as representative of the AIF, but little about this legend is uniquely Australian. The language used to express the values, that of the larrikin, the digger and above all else mateship, may be particularly Australian but the values are not. Irreverence and camaraderie are close to universal.

These aren’t values to be denigrated in any way. But they’re representative of most militaries in war. But the AIF did have a character unique to the Australian experience. Much is made of the fact that the AIF was an entirely volunteer organisation. From a population of fewer than five million more than 330,000 men and women served in its ranks between 1914 and 1918. Conscription was put to the people in referenda twice and twice it was defeated. People joined the AIF for the duration of the war. Few pursued careers in the military and although many had prior service it was in the militia, the part time army.

The ranks were filled from the cities, the suburbs and the bush by civilians. Even the officer corps was fleshed out by the professional and middle classes of lawyers, bankers, teachers and the like. These men saw themselves not as regular soldiers, but as civilians in uniform. They saw their role as merely a job, not a calling. They were there to fight the war, to defeat Germany, or the Ottomans, and to go home and back to the farm or the factory.

Australia had one of the strongest trade union and labour movement in the world in the early 20th century. It was the first country to vote a labour government into office and ideas of unionism, collective bargaining and fair work practices were strong in the minds of many working Australians. The language they used and the tactics they employed to deal with the discipline and hierarchy of the military demonstrates just how powerful these beliefs were. Soldiers routinely referred to their officers as their boss, refused orders they thought were unfair and protested their ill treatment by military authorities. They released soldiers imprisoned under field punishment, refused to salute officers and rejected the distinction between officers and other ranks imposed by the British army. They went into clubs, restaurants and hotels set aside of officers, believing strongly that they had the right to drink or eat where they chose.

They took strike action when they felt too much was asked of them, when they were refused rest or when they felt hard done by. When battalions were to be broken up due to lack of replacements in 1918, they mutinied. Refusing orders to disband, they ‘counted out’ senior officers sent to negotiate with them. Counting out consisted of soldiers on parade counting down from ten to one, before shouting a final obscenity at the officer concerned. It was a powerful form of insubordination that humiliated officers when it occurred.

In autumn 1918, after months without leave, Australian battalions took to strike action when they were ordered back into battle. After being promised a fortnight’s rest they were ordered back to the front for an offensive after just a few days. Unhappy troops - veterans, mostly - refused to move. The battalions were well understrength after months of fighting and the men felt they had been lied to, that they had sacrificed enough and that they were being overused. The soldiers took action in the way they knew how. They shot no officers and destroyed no property. For men used to fighting for their rights in the workplace it was natural that they would turn to collective action in trade union style.

(Ex-union organiser and Labor prime minister Billy Hughes, seen here with some of his beloved men. Hughes was a favourite of the Australian troops who dubbed him ‘the Little Digger’)

And so it was in the 15th Brigade, under the command of Harold Elliot. Called Pompey by him men he was a courageous and fatherly figure, both liked and respected by the men under his command. It was his unique character that allowed Pompey to negotiate with his men, although rant and then plead were the words used by diarists, and convince them to follow his orders. Other officers, less well known and less admired by their men failed in similar efforts.

The civilian attitudes made them difficult soldiers to discipline. The standard punishment of the army, called ‘field punishment’ was particularly odious to Australians. Field punishment consisted of being bound to an object, a post or a wagon or gun carriage in the open for a number of hours. Due to the danger of artillery this punishment was not just humiliating but also potentially fatal. Diaries and letters from soldiers are full of stories about field punishment. They usually tell of Australian troops coming across British soldiers undergoing field punishment and freeing them, fighting with guards and military police.

There was a powerful resistance to the dehumanising and anti-individualising aspect of military discipline and authority. The AIF by and large saw themselves as civilians first and soldiers second. They understood the need for discipline and obedience and as more than one Australian noted “we have discipline where it matters”, on the battlefield. But the trappings of military culture and authority were repellent to the Australian working man. Strict obedience to hierarchy and the seemingly pointless requirements of military discipline were not only alien to Australians but went against their own values. Mutual respect was the key to the AIF as most of its officers discovered.

This side of the AIF, the strength of its civilian values is one that ought be remembered and celebrated in Anzac. The ideas from the labour and union movements, the fair go and mutual respect deserve a place alongside mateship and the larrikin as part of Anzac. The men who fought for the eight-hour work day and living wages were the same men who filled the ranks of the AIF and who fill Australian cemeteries in Europe and Turkey.

This is a part of the Anzac story that deserves a better place in our telling of it.

[cookiescr]

Cat

(Happy birthday!)

Xadia, even divided in half, was enormous. It was the size of the five human kingdoms put together; there was plenty of room for vastly differing biomes, such as arid sandpits like the Midnight Desert, or lush forests like the one hosting the Silvergrove. Each of those biomes were full of flora and fauna that were adapted to the terrain. Amaya was aware of all this; that was how nature worked, and she had experienced nature back in Katolis well enough to understand these concepts.

  Unfortunately, she was unfamiliar with much of the magical fauna native to Xadia. There were some that were relatively easy to identify, given their similarity to Katolian animals- a deer with antlers that glowed when the moon was up was still a deer. But some were harder to guess, like the six-legged serpentine creature that she was told was a type of frog. She's fairly certain frogs aren't supposed to have fangs, but it did jump onto a tree and grab a visibly-vibrating beetle with its tongue, so she didn't press the issue. 

  But learning about Xadia's fascinating creatures was not Amaya's focus; she was needed in more important matters, like training new human and Sunfire soldiers, protecting caravans of supplies being sent from and delivered to Lux Aurea, and supporting her girlfriend, both emotionally and with her new duties as Sunfire Queen. Rebuilding Lux Aurea took so much work.

  Currently, she was on her way back to the palace; Janai had asked her to go to the university to deliver some boxes of books that were found in the castle basement, as many of the university’s books had been lost in the destruction. It was also a nice chance for her to say hello to Kazi. While she wouldn't say the two of them were friends, they had been quite friendly to her while she was a prisoner. Besides, they were becoming good friends with Gren. Kazi was happy to see her, and offered her an oatmeal raisin cookie. The cookie was dry, crumbling apart, and burnt on the bottom, but they had tried their best. She appreciated the sentiment, if not the cookie itself.

  When she found a trash receptacle to dispose of the inedible cookie, she moved to dump it in but paused; did it... move? Was something alive in there? Given the magical nature of everything in Xadia, it was possible that something in there was alive when it shouldn't be, or that the trash itself had become a singular entity and gained sentience. Amaya's hand hovered over her sword handle- or rather, where her sword would usually be, if she were wearing her armor. Since she hadn't intended to encounter any danger within Lux Aurea itself, she was wearing casual clothes. She quickly cursed herself for being so unprepared. 

  Something poked its head out from behind the receptacle, not from within it. Something with little ears, beady eyes, a tiny nose, and fur redder than Gren's hair- well, except for its legs, which, quite amusingly, looked like they had black stockings on. It was one of the most adorable things she had ever seen, only beaten by her nephews as babies. Although, that was challenged when it stood up on two paws, the other two stretching up above its head as it waddled towards her.

  Amaya looked around to see if there were any nearby elves who could help her with the creature, but the street was practically empty. It was noon, so most of the elves in Lux Aurea were probably having lunch. Sunfire elves liked daily schedules and punctuality, and Amaya had always liked that about them. Sure was a minor inconvenience right now, though. 

  The animal didn't seem hostile, so she bent down to look at it closer. When she offered it her hand, it landed back on all fours to give it a sniff, its fluffy tail moving to match its body's movements. It looked soft, and not especially dirty, so she gave its head a careful rub. Oh, how soft! And the animal didn't mind the attention, especially when she went behind its ears. So, as Amaya had gathered about the animal: small, friendly, playful, likes petting, digs in garbage, too flexible to be a dog (hopefully), uses its tail to balance...

  Why, it must be a Xadian cat! Even Lux Aurea has strays, apparently. Or maybe the strays are new, since so many previous pet owners were lost... No, that didn't bear to think about.

  The cat clearly didn't have a collar, so she assumed that meant it also currently didn't have a home; pet cats usually weren't so familiar with seeing trash cans as a food source, after all. And it would be a shame to leave such a cute kitty alone to starve on the street...

  If the cat made any verbal protests against being scooped up, Amaya didn't hear it.

  --

  Paperwork, ever the bane of those cursed to experience it, was among the most important and worst parts of rebuilding Lux Aurea. While they had once had vast resources and great wealth to operate with, nearly all of it was lost to the destruction. Now, Janai had to figure out how best to divide up what was left.

  Of course, any spare or unused items in the castle's various cellars, basements, and storage rooms were given away where it would be most needed- old clothes, sturdy dishware, warm blankets, tucked-away boxes of children's toys, anything that could assist or comfort the people- her people- was handed out to them, or put where they could access them. 

  After that, she had the matter of actual resources, like wood, various metals, food, and money. Money was the biggest source of concern. She had sold or traded anything particularly valuable but not notably useful (Khessa had apparently been far fonder of sparkly jewelry than Janai or their brother had been aware of), but still, there was never enough to go around. The builders must be paid for their labor, but they can't do any labor if they're starving because the farmers weren't paid for their food. But if they pay the farmers first, where will they put the food? Many of the storage vaults, including several of the magically-enhanced ones that can preserve food for years, were damaged or destroyed in the attack. Yet there was still the matter of the guards who were helping her maintain order in all this mess, and the smiths who had so quickly begun work on dearly needed tools, nails, and steel toes for boots- they must also be compensated for their labor.

  Far from last, far from least, there are families starving, homeless, and grieving, so many lives disrupted and upturned- and she was responsible for all of them. She hadn't even time for her own grief. Luckily, she had Amaya by her side, to carry out her will as her right hand, and to help her come to terms with her loss. Right now, Amaya was helping with delivering goods across the city; not the grandest job, but she needed to know they would arrive at their intended destination, but most of the guards were already busy with, well, guarding.

  Perhaps she could organize a meeting between the builders and the farmers. If she could get the builders to agree to build for the farmers first- er no, wait, get the farmers to give food to- or, wait, was it... Augh, she was starting to confuse herself. But there was no time to take a break to clear her head, so she'd have to keep going. What was it that each of them wanted? Well, maybe if the builders agreed to let the farmers be paid first, the farmers would agree to lend the builders some of their draft beasts. But, if that failed, then-

  Janai's caravan of thought was knocked clear off the road as Amaya slammed the door open. No matter how many times Janai asked her to just pound on the door and open it normally, Amaya liked the surprised looks on everyone's faces as she barged into a room as loudly as she could. Or as loudly as she hoped she could. All the same, Janai stood up to greet her. "Ah, you're back! How was..." She trailed off, looking at the strange animal her beloved girlfriend was gleefully holding up, like a child showing off their newest toy. "Amaya, what is that?"

  Amaya shifted the animal to rest across her left arm, so she could use her right hand to pinch next to her cheek, pull it back, and let it go. What? She knew Amaya was having some difficulty identifying Xadian wildlife, but how could she mess this one up to such a degree? Surely they had those in Katolis, and Amaya should be familiar with them already?

  "Amaya, that is not a cat. Where did you find that?"

[lady-of-all-cards]

Ikemen Revolution: Alternate Ending (Edgar Bright)

One-Shot Statictis: Pages: 4 Word Count: 1593 Characters: 8869 Characters (without spaces): 7319

Fandom: Ikemen Revolution Characters: Lancelot Kingsley, Edgar Bright, Claudius Bright,  Alice the Second. Pairings: Edgar Bright/Main Character Summary: This was the last step of the journey- the last trial seperating the Crimson Jack and his freedom. Facing his own tainted blood in equal skill, only one Bright would be walking away from the Garden with his life...

Notes: SPOILERS!This is an alternate universe ending based on Edgar’s main route. If you don’t want the main points of Edgar’s route being spoiled, don’t read this. I highly recommend downloading the game if you already haven’t and experiencing Edgar’s route for yourself, because it’s my all-time favourite route and I don’t think Edgar gets a lot of credit and appriciation anymore.

A month since she last stepped foot in the rooftop Garden, she found herself surrounded by the blooming roses and the fresh, green scent once again. The Jack led them to the back, where the hole to London was now closed.

“King Lancelot, Alice. Please remain here.” He spoke, letting his hand fall from his beloved Alice’s. “I will wait for my uncle to arrive in the tea party area. He will not make it past me.” He said, voice full of conviction.

“Fine. Alice and I will watch from back here. Okay, Alice?” Lancelot’s stoic voice held a warning for her not to run off to Edgar’s aid, no matter what.

“I understand.” She said, nodding her head, but her heart still felt heavy. Edgar said he was prepared for this, but he was still going to have to fight the man who raised him. “Edgar, there’s something I need to apologize to you for.”

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry that, because of me, you’ve had to give up your uncle.” She muttered, looking down at her shoes.

“What are you talking about?” He furrowed his eyebrows, truly confused about what she was saying.

“I think he’s a truly frightening man and his evil schemes need to be stopped. But he is still your family, Edgar.” 

“You truly are kind.” Edgar breathed, smiling gently, but genuinely. He reached out to carefully stroke her hair. “I learned something important from you. That kindness allows you to feel the pain of others. If my uncle or I deceive someone, that person ends up hurt. Like you were. If my uncle or I kill someone, that person’s loved ones are plunged into despair. That’s how I felt when Amon’s plot took you from me. I’ve begun to feel the pain other people feel, ever since falling in love with you. That is why I have to stop my uncle.” Lancelot placed a hand on Alice’s shoulder as Edgar finished speaking.

“Alice, I don’t pretend to understand what love feels like. But if you do, then you shouldn’t apologise. You should be proud. And you should watch with your eyes wide open as Edgar proves his resolve” 

“Yes, you’re right.” She nodded, looking up at the King of Hearts for a moment before looking back at Edgar, gazing into his eyes. Their jade-green glow didn’t even a sliver of doubt.

“I won’t close my eyes.”

“Thank you for everything, Alice.” She would have said something, anything, but Lancelot’s voice cut through her thoughts as his hand fell from her shoulder.

“He’s here.” She hadn’t heard any footsteps, but when she turned toward the tea party area, she saw a shadowy figure arrive.

“This is it. Alice and King Lancelot, I’ll see you soon.” Turning his back to them, Edgar strode off soundlessly

With Alice and King Lancelot safely behind him, Edgar stepped into the tea party area. The white, well-starched tablecloth covering the long table seemed to glow faintly in the darkness, and on the other side of it, stood the man he had to defeat.

“Hello, Edgar. The moon is beautiful tonight, don’t you think?” He greeted, running a thumb over the pommel of his walking cane.

“Yes, it is, Uncle.” On opposite ends of the luxurious tea table, the uncle and nephew faced off. They were both smiling as if they were having a pleasant family chat.

“Look, the moonlight is so crisp and clear. It’s a perfect night for betrayal. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“No, Uncle.” Edgar said shortly. “I think it’s a perfect night to confess my feelings to the one I love.”

“What’s this? It’s rare for our opinions to differ.” 

“Indeed. But I’m confident that we will never share the same opinion again.” With that, Edgar leapt straight into the air, and with a soft tap, his boots landed on the table between two dishes. In the next instant, his sword was in his hand and he was charging toward Claudius.

“I didn’t raise you to be such a rude boy, Edgar. Looks like you need some more discipline.” Using a chair like a step, Claudius climbed gracefully onto the table, and with a flick of his walking stick, he blocked Edgar’s attack. “Have a seat.”

“I decline.” The sword and stick parted and then clashed again just as swiftly, the fierce exchange sending sparks flying as their feet danced to the clattering of tableware. Step by step, Edgar forced Claudius back toward the edge of the table.

“Haha, how surprising! You’ve improved so much-- it’s impressive!”

“All thanks to you.” Just then, Edgar’s blade stabbed Claudius’s thigh. Set off balance, he sank down.

“Why, that was a dirty move!”

“I learned from the best.”

“No need to get defensive. That was a compliment.” Cruelty glittered in eyes that were the same colour as his nephew’s, and, still crouching, Claudius delivered a sweeping kick to Edgar’s ankles.

“Whoa--” When the kick landed, Edgar’s sword-hand loosened slightly. In the moment it took for him to regain his grip, Claudius aimed another powerful kick at his midsection. “Oof--” Edgar grunted as his uncle’s heel smashed right into the center of his stomach. Without missing a beat, Claudius’s walking stick spun through the air, knocking Edgar’s sword from his hand. “Agh--”

“And that’s checkmate.” The tip of the walking stick was at Edgar’s throat. The hidden cap on the stick had been removed, revealing a sharp blade that glittered in the moonlight.”

“I’ve never seen you use your hidden blade before.” Edgar commented, swallowing thickly.

“This will be the first and last time you see it, Edgar.” His voice was low and strangely mournful. “It pains me to do this. Having to eliminate my own flesh and blood.” He slowly pushed the bladed cane across Edgar’s throat. As it moved, small drops of red trickled down his skin.

“Damn you--” Edgar hissed.

“Farewell, my child.” And with that, Claudius plunged the shape blade into Edgar’s stomach, watching as a choked gasp forced itself from Edgar’s throat. The air he breathed out was mixed with blood, which now spilled from the corner of his mouth to his ear. His hand grasped at the junction between the cane and his body, but he couldn’t pry it from him with his waning strength.

Claudius watched his nephew struggle, his gaze never leaving Edgar’s jaden eyes. He let his guard down, true pain showing on his face as a tear dropped from it’s duct onto Edgar’s pale cheek. That was his last mistake...

Edgar’s other hand scrambled for anything- his sword, a stick, anything! His long fingers tightened around a spoon, which he gripped tightly. His other hand crawled up the stick, coming to rest over his Uncle’s hand at the top, and, despite the weapon that was driven through his body, pulled himself up with his remaining strength to shove the spoon deep into his uncle’s throat, before kicking him in the throat, sending him falling back off the table.

Without the support of his uncle, Edgar fell back down the weapon, gasping in pain as tears slipped from his eyes. The blade was now firmly stuck in the table, and there was no hope of pulling it from him now.

“Edgar!” The cry of his beloved broke him, and he tried to pull the blade from him again, however, it was ripped from him as the strong arms of his king brought him down from the table, setting him in his lap and holding a hand to the gaping hole.

On his other side, he felt her touch- stroking his hair back from his eyes, holding his hand... he leaned into her touch, but leaned also into the hold of his King. He gripped her hand, while his other layover Lancelot’s. He felt his own body rise and fall with his gasping breaths, he felt his eyes drooping, until he felt and saw no more...

The company of eight officers were gathered outside the Civic Center with the record keeper and their old professor. After hearing what was transpiring, Dean and Blanc had arrived just after dawn, just in time to see Claudius being whisked away to the Red Army Headquarters, but then half an hour passed, then another half, and a third half, and there had been no sign of Lancelot, Alice or Edgar.

There was tension in the air. Jonah had started pacing in front of the steps long ago, arms folded across his chest. Luka forbade him interrupting whatever was going on in the Garden, knowing all too well the pain of losing family, even though that family was still alive and breathing, just an enemy of his heart...

But it had not been Edgar’s heart that had been yearning, and it was clear when Alice sped-walked out. She sought safety in Zero’s arms, slamming into him and sobbing into his chest. The Ace held her closely, looking at the other officers in question, but they all knew.

The doors opened again, magically by the power of the king. Luka stood up from his seat on the steps, his lip quivering as he stumbled back...

Edgar was curled in the arms of the King, limp and lifeless. Crimson stained his uniform, a few drops falling from his hand that once so fearlessly weiled his saber. His feet, once sure, strong and straight, swayed gently in the movements of the King...

Luka backed a few steps more, and bumped into Jonah. For the first time in seven years, he sought the warmth of his brother’s embrace...

[lyrebirdswrites]

Haikyuu: Where To From Here?

Okay, so I’ve calmed down enough now to finally put together some coherent thoughts about chapter 369.

First of all: there’s no need to panic, or to jump to conclusions! At this point, we have very little information. Here are the only concrete, confirmed facts we know for certain are true about the twist at the end of the chapter:

- an unspecified number of years have passed (above is the official Shonen jump translation, fan translations state ‘several’ years have passed)

- the story will be focusing on Brazil for the foreseeable future

- the composition of the manga strip places emphasis on a young man riding a bike - he’s a character of importance.

That’s it. That’s the only information we have. We don’t know how long the story will spend in Brazil. We don’t know for sure if the guy on the bike is Hinata - the hair is different, he appears taller, and we definitely did not see his face - and furthermore we don’t know if any characters we’re already familiar with are in Brazil at all. Heck, we don’t even know if this bike riding guy plays volleyball!

(I think it’s safe to assume he does, considering the nature of this manga, but the point is, we are not operating on an abundance of information here. Nothing is confirmed.)

I understand why this might seem like the worst possible direction for the narrative to take, especially when it feels like it came out of nowhere. Haikyuu, at its heart, has always been a series about people. Watching them grow, watching them become stronger and more skilled, watching them learn to love and rely on each other. Seeing Karasuno face up to impossible odds and achieve victory is so gratifying only because they do it together, as a team. Seeing Karasuno confront defeat and mourn a loss is so fulfilling only because they refuse to let it hold them back, and because they support and inspire each other through the good times and the bad. For a series that relies so heavily on the bonds between characters, it is jarring to see the relationships which we’ve invested in jeapordised by such an abrupt change in location and time. It’s just like Kageyama said:

We all wanted to go further with Karasuno. But here’s the thing: at it’s heart, Haikyuu has always been a series about people. The people of Karasuno, in particular. And I highly doubt that Furudate is going to throw away all that character development that they carefully cultivated over years in order to follow the story of some strangers on the other side of the planet. It’s not consistent with the themes the narrative presented to us over almost 400 chapters, and it’s not consistent with the meticulous way in which Furudate has built up the trajectory of these characters.

So I would posit that it’s very unlikely we’ve seen the last of Karasuno. That’s why the third year’s graduation was rushed. That’s why we didn’t get a proper end to the spring tournament. That’s why it wasn’t necessary for Hinata to be present at the dinner and to hear the emotional speeches. And that’s why there are so many loose ends, like the extremely skilled players from Kageyama’s national camp that Karasuno never really interacted with, or the occasional mention of scouting for university and national teams. This was never intended to be a permanent goodbye, so there was no need to wrap everything up in a neat little bow and create the perfect nostalgic ending. Their story isn’t over yet!

Honestly, I don’t think this twist is a death scentence for the manga. In fact, I think it could be just what haikyuu needs to launch into something even greater than what we’ve seen so far. Think about it: the first chapter of Haikyuu was published in February 2012, and right now at the end of 2019, 7 years later, we’ve only just seen the end of hinata’s first ever spring tournament. At this rate, it would be decades before Hinata ever graduated high school. With a time skip, we don’t have to rehash the same tournaments and face off against the same teams over and over and over in real time. As much as I would love to see Hinata become a senpai and watch him develop into a formidable third year volleyball player, I think it would be really hard to keep the story from becoming stale or feeling derivative of itself if Furudate attempted to follow Hinata’s story in real time, tracking his development as he attends the same competitions and fights the same schools while each single match takes dozens upon dozens of chapters. Also, if we’re not following the day to day experiences of Hinata in high school, then there’s no need to push the third years who’ve just graduated out of the story. Not just for Karasuno, but for all the other teams we love. If the focus is no longer on high school volleyball, then the manga is much more free to continue including the third years or even to have them play on the same team as our favourite first years. Olympics, anyone? There are so many exciting directions the story could take from here, and I can’t wait to see it.

So if their story isn’t over, then... what the heck is happening now? Like I said, we really have no idea what could happen next because there are so few details to work off of. The next few chapters should give us a clearer idea, if we can be patient enough to wait for them. But looking back through the manga can give us a few clues too. There are already some posts pointing this out, but it’s clear that Furudate has been planning this a long time based on forshadowing within the manga itself:

There’s Brazil, right there! In reference to people who are going to meet and change the world. Or more specifically, members of a volleyball team who meet, and push each other to greater heights, and eventually challenge the national (international? world?) stage. While Karasuno have been getting stronger, the narrative is pretty explicitly hinting that another team in Brazil is doing the same thing. I think we’re about to meet them.

At first I was worried we’d never see Karasuno or the Japanese volleyball players again, or at least not for a long time. But right from the start, Furudate told us they were never planning to confine these characters to high school or even to Japan.

Here, Kageyama asks Hinata to keep up with him not just in high school, but in the long term. To play with him not just at the Spring Interhigh, but beyond the very best of the national level and on a worldwide stage. Their partnership and rivalry was the foundation of this story from chapter 1, and the manga won’t end until they either face off against one another and prove who is the better player in an official world tournament - or until they become world champions on the same team. That was the premise set out at the start of the manga, and that’s the promise which needs to be fulfilled for it to end. Taking into account all the character development Hinata and Kageyama have experienced in order to become an amazing duo instead of eternal rivals, I’d say the second option is the most likely. They’ve come a long way from those first few panels, and Kageyama admitting he wanted to go even further with Karasuno proves he’s long past the be-the-best do-it-alone mindset which triggered this scene.

(it’s possible that the bike riding guy is Hinata on the Brazil team, and that Kageyama will be his ultimate opponent. But I don’t see why the bike rider guy’s face would be hidden if that was the big twist. Showing Hinata in Brazil has more shock value than showing a stranger in Brazil, and imo 369 was definitely attempting to shock! I think Hinata and Kageyama are more of a team now than they’ve ever been, and it seems unlikely that the narrative will backtrack and make them rivals again without another round of long-term character development in that direction. It wouldn’t all be hidden in a timeskip and a flashback or two.)

If Kageyama, Hinata, and other beloved characters are playing on the world stage, they need teams to play against. Haikyuu has always been known for having highly developed rivals - you can’t help but empathise with and cheer on the other team, every time. So what we’re seeing here isn’t the end of Karasuno, but rather the introduction of Hinata and Kageyama’s new competition. We’re gonna be reading about international volleyball tournaments between countries, and no team is going to be one-dimensional, nor are they going to exist only within the competition arena. It looks like we’re going to be spending a lot of time with these rival teams, or at the very least with the Brazil team. More time than we spent with Nekoma or Fukurodani. We’re gonna watch them grow and learn to rely on each other the same way we did with Karasuno, the same way we fell in love with all the high school teams - and then, we’ll watch them go head to head in a competition more epic than anything we’ve seen in Haikyuu to date.

Of course, that’s just speculation. I could be totally wrong. But at the end of the day, I trust Furudate to write a good story. For seven years they’ve composed Haikyuu, a manga that has made me laugh, made me cry, and has taught me some pretty valuable lessons about facing adversity and dealing with defeat. It’s been with me throughout my own high school years and beyond, even as I’ve grown and changed as a person, and never once has the story genuinely let me down. I have absolute faith that whatever comes next will be just as good, so long as we approach it with an open heart.

[softkaimin]

Fear Complex | p. 1

word count: 3,310

! trigger warning(s): self-harm, strangulation, near death, guilt tripping, mentions of suicide, pennywise is his own trigger warning

prologue

The screeching of the chairs against the linoleum floor and the indistinct chattering of your classmates mixed together like a raucous song. The passing comments of faux sympathy went in one and out the other as you stared at the graffitied top of your desk, the dirty brown wood casting the horrid memories of last week against it like some old projector screen.

“Earth to (Last/Name).” You snapped your gaze to the bespectacled girl that sat beside you, her eyes peeking over the rim of her glasses to observe you in your trance. “Gee, it only took me calling your name a million times to get your attention,” she huffed.

You cleared your throat and hurriedly wiped your desk with the sleeve of your jacket, sweeping your memories to the ground beneath you before anyone else could see them. You bit the broken skin on your bottom lip out of habit, meeting her worried eyes for only a second before the need to release your bottled emotions became too unbearable. You looked away and began to flip through the pages of your textbook to avoid meeting her judging gaze again.

 “Sweetie, are you alright?”

No. That’s what you should’ve said, but you’d already convinced yourself that telling someone of the insanity you were experiencing wasn’t going to help you. It was a fact – at least in your mind – that nobody would believe you. That you would only be ridiculed and thrown into some insane asylum as a result. The thought alone of being seen as crazy was enough to convince you that it was better to suffer in silence.

So, you didn’t utter a word of it. Not to your aunt, who had saved you from that never-ending interrogation at the police station that night, or to your friends, who tried visiting you the week after only for you to turn them away at the door. You decided it was best to keep your madness to yourself.

“I’m fine.” The words felt as dry as they sounded, and you knew as soon as you said them that it was the most unconvincing lie you’d ever told.

“Fine? No sane person would be fine after witnessing a fucking murder.” Her tone was mocking but you knew she didn’t do it on purpose.

Luanna, your best friend for as long as you could remember, was fluent in the language of sarcasm and banter. Conversations with her were never what most people would call pleasurable, and they surely weren’t anyone’s first choice to pass the time. But the thing about Luanna was that she was truly dependable, never choosing your feelings over the truth. You could always count on her to tell you the truth, and whether it hurt your feelings was not her problem.

“Look, (Your/Name)…”

Shivers crawled up your spine when she uttered your name. She never called you by your first name, always your last, or sometimes even sweetie. But never your first. Only on rare occasions did she ever, and it always meant one thing: she was about to be brutally honest with you.

The air clogged your throat as you tried to brace yourself for whatever Luanna was about to toss at you, but luckily for you, the universe was just as unwilling to listen to one of Luanna’s lectures as you were.

The sudden eruption of shrill voices speaking at the same time interrupted your train of thought, and consequently Luanna’s too. The three girls that’d been huddled at the front of the room jumped to their feet, blocking the doorway as they ran to greet the boy who had just walked in. Your view of him was obscured at first, but the amount of comfort that his aura alone brought you told you exactly who he was.

You sat on your leg, craning your neck in search of those warm eyes amongst the heads of your classmates. You needed to meet them just once, just to feel the normalcy for your crumbling life once again. You needed to see them to assure you that this terror you were living with was only temporary.

But when you did, the fear that consumed you snared its claws deeper into your veins. You didn’t see peacefulness or normalcy. You didn’t see the gleam in his eyes, the one that always gave him away whenever he was excited. The gleam that had the power to make everyone around him happy. When you saw him, it was almost you were looking in the mirror, because what you saw was paralyzing fear. You saw dread and sadness and anger, all mixing together like an amalgamation of despair.

Kai! We’re so glad you’re back!

I wrote down all of Mrs. Beck’s notes for you, maybe we can go over them during lunch.

Come sit with us. We’ll help you catch up.

Kai had been trying to push his way past them to reach the empty seat in front of you, but the girls wouldn’t let him out of their grasp long enough to free himself. You were the only person who could understand what he was going through. You were the only person he wanted to talk to, the only person he thought of in days… but you weren’t even looking at him anymore. Instead, you were buried nose deep into your textbook. He swallowed the hurt of being ignored by you and allowed himself to be dragged into the cold and unfamiliar seat at the front of the classroom.

The room buzzed suddenly then filled with a high shriek as the school’s intercom system kicked in for the morning announcement. You could hear the quiet murmuring of your principal as she quickly gathered her notes, completely unaware that her morning aid student had already begun without her.

“Are we on, already? Oh… Gooood Morning, Derry High!” Her booming voice forced everyone out of their tiredness, their ears perking with attentiveness for only a second before they went back to the bobbing mess of sleepy students. “It is Monday, a fine day to begin the week. I hear our two beloved seniors have returned today, please give them a hand and let them know how much we’ve missed them.”

Your stomach lurched as half of the class turned to look at you, clapping half-heartedly, the other half choosing to clap for Kai. Some immediately retracted their attention, but the gaze of others lingered on you for a moment too long. Your thoughts felt like a malfunctioning carousel, flinging wildly improbable theories of why they were staring at you all over the place, each one more worrying than the last.

“In honor of them and the late Noah Rivers, let us please have a minute of silence.”

The silence settled in far too quickly for your liking, its cold fingers tapping the bare skin of your neck as it whispered the horrible retellings of that night. Your heart was accelerating alongside your mind, and your stomach heaving as though it was trying to rid itself of the anxiety that had begun to burrow inside you.

The silence stretched across the entire room, seeping into the hallways as everyone stopped in their tracks to remember the middle school student who had passed away last week. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep it together, and this minute of silence began to feel like an eternity.

You tried to focus your breathing, looking out into the yard toward the school monument sign. You hoped to replace the cruel voice of survivor’s guilt with images of whatever else you could occupy your mind with. The singing birds or the falling leaves or even the littered water bottle that rolled across the pavement with every slight breeze.

You looked away from the outside world, realizing that your wish to be in it only worsened your anxiety. Your eyes darted around the room, refusing to focus on something for longer than a millisecond.

You opted to close your eyes instead, but something caught your eye in the tall rectangular window of the classroom door.

It’s yellow eyes locked onto you, unmoving as they watched your every muscle fight the paralysis of fear. You could see its pointy discolored teeth that lined the inside of its mouth, the string of drool that told you it watered for a taste of you.

Your knee hit the desk as you scurried to your feet, barely managing to catch the chair that you knocked over. You could see Luanna talking to you, trying to make sense of what had set you off, but nothing she was saying was registering in your mind. Her voice was garbled and undecipherable, and you had become hyper focused on the glowering gaze of the clown that sat at the window.

Your principal’s voice reverberated against the classroom walls once again, and for a split second you felt the end of this nightmare approaching. The clown had gone in a blink, no longer creeping in the window, and the world felt like it was stabilizing for the time being. But for some peculiar reason, you couldn’t get your heart to do the same.

The shock wave of having seen the clown in front of so many people sent you spiraling toward the edge of a panic attack. You were hanging on the ledge, your fingers slipping the more you struggled to reassure yourself that it was gone.

Mrs. Beck, your homeroom teacher, started toward you, her polka dotted dress billowing behind her as she made her way to where you had cornered yourself in the back of the classroom. Luanna knelt beside you, the pad of her thumb gently wiping away the tears from your cheeks.

“Luanna, does everything seem to be alright with Ms. (Last/Name)?” Your teacher asked, her voice full of worry. You looked up at her, hoping to match the gentle face of your teacher to her sweet voice, but it was nothing like you remembered.

Her lips were contorted into a wet grimace, dry white paint cracking at the corners of her mouth as though she had tried to wipe off her makeup in a hurry. Her eyes were a nightmarish yellow and they were locked onto yours steadily. The scream in your throat tightened, pressing down on your lungs until you could no longer hold it and were gasping for breath.

And then she giggled. Not the kind that was lighthearted and vibrant, like the kind you would hear from a child, but the kind that was full of venom and hunger. It was a guttural sound, coming from deep with the depths of a dark and horrid place. A place that only someone – or something – truly evil could reach.

“Stoooop!” You wailed, pressing your palms against your ears to drown out the gross sound of your teacher’s voice. You knew it was in your head, you were certain of it, but still it felt so real. The real Mrs. Beck, not the possessed version that was tormenting your already broken self, tried to reach for you in an attempt to force you back into reality, but what you saw was an exposed alien-like hand with murder written all over it. You screamed, springing to your feet as you wasted no time dashing out of the room and into the girl’s bathroom across the hall.

You locked yourself in the middle stall, plopping yourself on the toilet seat as you plunged into a full-scale panic attack. Your eyes were shut tight, your breathing loud and hoarse as you repeatedly slammed your balled fist into the metal wall of the stall, every shooting pain that ran up your arm from the force of the strike creating a faint, sporadic light that lit the way out of your mind. 

Bang.

You groaned in frustration at yourself, your knuckles cracking against the metal as you struck the door with as much force as you could muster. 

Bang.

Your fist dented the metal of the stall, but you could clearly see the exit in your mind. Your sanity was so close. 

Bang.

Blood ran down your fingers, staining your skin and consequently the stall door as well. 

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Pain was temporary, but fear? Well… no one ever managed to outlive fear.

The stall to your left suddenly slammed against the metal lock, shaking the entire stall structure violently. You gasped in alarm, the throbbing pain of your knuckles grounding you into reality as you wondered if another student had heard the insanity of your panic attack. You ran your finger across your mouth, shame setting in when you recalled the show that you had put on in front of the entire class. 

The restroom was silent, save for your heavy breathing, and you decided to leave before anyone else could see the mess that was your current state. You reached for the lock, the coolness of the metal refreshing against your warm, almost scorching skin. Your fingers lingered for a second, and you wondered if it was a good idea to go back to class to gather your things. It was not. You weren’t sure if you were stable enough yet to face the judging gazes of your classmates. You let the idea die and undid the lock. 

A pair of black tattered boots blocked the stall door from opening, and you felt your heart plummet into your stomach. You tried to back up, but by then it was too late.

You felt your throat suddenly constrict against a thick and rough cord, your body slamming against the stall wall as it pulled you toward your attacker. You clawed at the rope that tightened around your neck, the fibers digging into your skin and drawing blood. You were lifted off the ground and you kicked your legs, frantically searching for something to stand on. Your shoes slipped off the ceramic edges of the toilet, and your breath escaped in blubbering gasps.

You were running out of time quickly, running out of breath. Your legs became dead weight, your muscles too weak to lift your heavy limbs. Your vision was darkening, but you fought to keep your eyes open. May Noah Rivers rest in peace, but you were determined to not end up like him. Dead by a clown. Not you.

“Oh, what’s the matter Jelly Bean? Having trouble catching your breath?” Your blood ran ice cold at the familiarity of the voice. It was deep and hoarse, like that of a person who smoked a pack of cigarettes a day, and their breath smelled of alcohol and… what was that? Sewage?

The stranger’s grip on the rope faltered for a second, long enough for you to manage to slip a finger behind it and allow yourself one full breath before it tightened again.

“W-who?” You managed weakly.

They hummed, and brought their face closer to you, just enough for you to see them from your peripheral vision. Your eyes stung from how far they had to reach for you to see them, but you caught a clear glimpse of them.

It was your dad… your dead dad.

“Jelly Bean, why did you let me die all alone?” The rope tightened further, causing you to make a gross nasally sound. You pushed your tongue against the roof of your mouth, the words you wanted to say escaping with every short breath you exhaled.

“I was so sure you’d go with me that day.” The rope tightened again. “You should have gone with me that day! Why did you let me die all alone?” Your dad’s voice was deepening into a harsh growl, deepening until it longer sounded like your dad, but like the clown that had been tormenting you.

It laughed maniacally, the bells on its clown suit jingling with every erratic movement it made. “You let him die, huh jelly bean? Oh… what kind of daughter does that?” It jeered, the vulgarity slipping off of his tongue in a way that made your skin crawl with disgust.

You shook your head, tears flooding the little vision you had left as the guilty feelings of that day, two years ago, came back like raging waters. Everyone told you it wasn’t your fault, but you could never fight the nagging feeling that it was. Your mind was clouded with what-if scenarios and you yourself had come to the conclusion that if you had gone on that car ride with your dad that day then maybe he wouldn’t have taken his own life.

And now those guilty feelings were going to be the death of you. Maybe this is what I deserve, you thought. Maybe this is what I get for choosing my friends over my dad.

You fell to the ground suddenly, your head banging against the closed stall door. You were surprised to find you were still conscious, and you took this as your opportunity to crawl out of the stall from underneath, screaming for help at the top of your lungs. You felt a pair of cold hands pull you all the way toward the large wooden door of the restroom, her small frame using all of its strength to help you to your feet while fending off the newly injured clown.

You stood, turning around to get a good look at the situation. There was a broken broomstick wedged between the ribs of the clown, and it had a scowl on its face, as though it was in pain. You didn’t know it could feel pain. Beverley Marsh, the girl who had saved you from death not even a second ago, tugged at your arm as she dashed toward the exit, you following closely behind her.

You never thought you’d find comfort in the nasty smell of hormonal teenagers that wafted through the main hallways of the school, but it felt like breathing fresh air when you made it out.

You crashed into someone as you passed the threshold of the restroom, their arms quickly engulfing you. You looked up to find Kai’s worried eyes frantically searching your face for any signs of injury, but it was full of grief. He sighed and pressed your head against his chest as he hugged you hard, thankful you were okay.

“God, are you ok?” He whispered.

You shook your head, tears staining his shirt as you sobbed. “I ca-I can’t breathe.”

Kai grabbed your hand and pulled you alongside him as he made his way outside. His fingers were intertwined with yours and he didn’t let go, not even when you stood on the concrete steps of the school, basking in the warmth of the sun. He watched you closely, wondering silently if you had gone through what he had in the past week. 

The heat of the sun felt like soft kisses against your cold skin, drying your tears and encasing you in a protective blanket. You felt Kai inch closer to you, his fingers running up the back of your head as he planted a kiss on your forehead. Your breathing was ragged, the residual trauma still pestering you even after having made it out safely.

You wrapped your arm around his waist, your other hand still holding onto his, and you rested your head against him. “I’m so scared, Kai.” You whispered.

He swayed the two of you gently and whispered back: “Me too.” You swore if he kept it up, you would surely fall asleep where you stood, but he suddenly pulled away from you, meeting your confused gaze. 

His face was serious. Concerned. Scared, which in hand scared you. You were unnerved to say the least, and you felt like you were on the verge of passing out. And in the most foreboding tone he told you: “I saw It too.” 

[practicalbuoyancy]

My First Community

How the city I tried running away from for two whole years turned into my hardest goodbye. 

I’ve reached the point in crying where tears are replaced with a bizarre gasping for air. Occasionally, a howl will break through that common decency should render me embarrassed for, but I’m alone with Kevin and my daughter’s sound machine is on. So I continue crying, howling, and gasping for air. 

Likely because we’re in the middle of a pandemic that destroys the ability to breathe, I’m constantly aware of the inhales and exhales that seem more strained than normal. I check to make sure I can get a full breath. They’re hiccuping, staccato things. But ultimately, they add up to a full breath. 

With only one full day ahead of me, my final hours in our little home in Detroit feel suffocating. 

Where do I even begin to explain the depths of my pain? I was never supposed to be here. Kids my age don’t own homes. We don’t buy fixer uppers and put 2x more into it than what the market suggests is reasonable. We don’t sit on our front lawns and form relationships with our middle-aged and elderly neighbors. What is this bizarre alternate universe? At my 5-year college reunion, I felt deeply inadequate and ashamed next to the consultants, journalists, engineers, doctors, and lawyers my friends had become. But they looked at me and called me the adult. HA! 

All because of a house. That, completely renovated, cost $500 less/month than a 2 bedroom apartment we were renting at the time. 

So why did we do it? Partially because my husband and I were idiot children who simultaneously thought getting three dogs was a good idea, but mostly because of the people we met in our first year away from home. 

You see, when I was first brought here by Teach for America, the guy who interviewed me explained the most important thing is community. “Sure, I get it,” I thought to myself. I had gone to churches before. After becoming a Christian in college, I had been attached to several campus ministries, some more than others. I did lots of campus activities and met many people whom I cherish with my whole heart to this day. 

My first year in Michigan, I spent so many nights crying about missing school that at one point Kevin literally carried me into a car and drove me to Chicago that night just so I could have deep dish pizza. Southeast Michigan was never the end goal. It was a stop-gap before we could get back to Chicago, where I would live on Belmont and have two fluffy Samoyeds I walked up and down the street. 

But then I met Jonny. Then Eric. Then Joanne. Then Jonathan and Laura. Then Scott and Edythe. I met Ashley and Ginny and Leon and Rebecca and Mike and Elisha and Kyle and Tasha and Sarah and Sam and Elizabeth and Jon and I know the more people I name the more others will feel left out so just know, dear reader, that I met so many people who have imprinted wonderful things on my heart. And after seeing their fierce passion for the Lord, the world, and each other, my heart was theirs forever. 

Now, I should admit here that it wasn’t as easy or as quickly or as romantic as retrospective writing lends itself to imagine. I was still planning on going back to Chicago. Both Kevin and I were deeply depressed and incapable of forging relationships. After we joined a small group, we essentially whined to them every week about how much we didn’t like it here and just wanted to go back “home.” Our small group loved us anyway, encouraging us, holding us, and always helping us seek what was the best for our hearts and our walks with the Lord. Even though we were little punks about it. 

I still remember the day Kevin proposed we change the plan. We were having one of our long road trip conversations. The empty miles ahead of us tend to allow us to get into deeper conversations without distractions. Before this conversation, we were just trying to make it to the end of my commitment with Teach for America. Two years, then we would return back to Chicago where we belonged. That was our plan. We had never wavered from this plan. 

Kevin, who had had an even harder time than I had moving to Detroit, strangely brought up, “Well, my 401k matching doesn’t kick in until I stay 3 years, and you could get your certificate if you stayed a third year... so... should we do one more?” 

Everything that had planned before we moved screamed, “NO!” But everything that was growing within me in this community said, “We can try.” 

That year, we decided to buy a home. It was a drab thing that was two days away from being foreclosed due to three years of no taxes paid. The homeowners had a better life with better housing in the suburbs. This was no longer a burden they wanted to deal with. 

We signed a land contract and purchased the home for $14,800. 

The next six months, we learned why everyone hates home renovations. We COMPLETELY redid our home. All new windows, new roof, paint, floors, bathroom. We knocked down walls and doubled the size of the kitchen. We threw out the clawfoot to the shock of many. (I honestly still don’t understand the appeal.) We made countless decisions and grew angry with sloppy painters and had five different subcontractors do our siding. We fell in love with the end product, even with all of its quirks, and called it a home. 

We spent four beloved years in that house. 

We had our dogs. We brought home Violet. We hosted countless silly parties, from Christmas to Harry Potter themed. We fought a lot in that house. We cried some. We watched a LOT of television and put together many puzzles. We held friends in that house. Friends held us. 

Because alongside all of these decisions to stay, the first decision we made was to finally yield to the longing of our hearts and belong to our community. I wrote a childish note to the woman who is now my best friend asking if she’d be friends with me. I called my small group leaders Mom and Dad far after it stopped being cute and was just plain uncomfortable. I got to know our neighbors. Dave loves Sister Pie. He can’t leave an interaction without asking us a question to get to know us better, even four years later. Vionca had a child close to the same age as Violet. She is a fiercely loyal mother who both loves her kids dearly and doesn’t take crap from them. When we brought Violet home, they both brought over presents and doted on her. 

My church community here walked with me through the worst of my depression and trauma, bringing me food and CDs and sitting and crying with me when I exclaimed, “I’m done with it all!” They encouraged us constantly. I don’t think I’ve ever truly believed I had that much value before the constant uplifting and encouraging of my friends, who saw me as a child of God and communicated that fervently. 

I found a job I loved and grew an even larger community. No one makes me laugh harder than my work friends. No one understands my anxiety and depression better. No one will let me sing show tunes with them. Oh, no, that was just the end of the sentence. Sometimes even Anna needs to work. I’m not bitter or anything. 

I feel so much pain because I’ve felt so much love. I never knew what it was like to live surrounded by love. My communities were strong in college, but they were fragmented. I had different circles and different people I cherished and continue to cherish. But here, everyone I loved in the world was within ten minutes from me. I’ve never experienced a greater treasure than that of proximity to all that I love. 

I don’t know what the future will look like. The part of me that holds on until the very end is the part of me that lies and says nothing will be different. The part of me that has been through similar heartache and change tells me that it will all be different. The doomsday forecaster in my brain likes to tell me I’ll never have better friends so why bother trying. Also, Silicon Valley people are really high strung. Stresses me out. But... In ‘N’ Out is there... 

I am so thankful for my people. I am so thankful for my community. I am so thankful for the grief I feel. My pain is proportionate to my love. And I have so, so much love for my people here. 

until california,

mi

[mayareth]

Our little frog

Pairing: Fenrir x Cassiopée

Type: Angst

Warnings: child loss, depression, suicide tendencies.

Word count: 1601

This fic is inspired by the so-well-written headcanons of the fantastic @hejer-maomao 💙 I have to say, I wanted to write something NSFW for the Lancelot Appreciation Week (and the Kinktober challenge) but I was more inspired for some angst (thanks to Mr Sunshine, this drama is ruining my life). It's not as good as I wanted it to be but I still wanted to share it with you because I don't think I’ll have the time to write something else soon (thanks to the university life, heck, I thought it would have the taste of freedom).

Hope you enjoy!

*******

FENRIR’S POV

Cassie was lying next to me, smiling as every morning. Waking up to her beautiful face was the utmost joy to me, especially since we weren't two but three in this bed. I touched her small baby bump while kissing her forehead softly.

”Good morning, honey.”

I whispered in her ear.

”Good morning, cupcake.”

She said, her lips brushing mine. I loved this quiet moment we enjoyed every day before being caught in the agitation of the day. The sun reflected in her green eyes, making them sparkles like two emeralds. I brushed off a hair lock from her face to give her a proper morning kiss when suddenly, Cassie moved both of her hands to her belly, wincing.

”Cassie, are you ok? Are you feeling sick again? Do you need me to bring you tea or something to soothe your cramps or maybe...”

She shook her head although she was now avoiding my gaze.

”No, it's alright Fenrir. Don't worry, it often happens, I’m pretty sure it's because I'm now at the end of my third month of pregnancy. It's just my body adapting itself to this little one. Also, if you stay under the sheets five more minutes, you’re gonna miss the special army meeting your so-called partner appointed this morning.”

Panic flooded through me when I looked at the clock. The meeting! I’m going to be scolded by Daddy Sirius again and Luka will cook tomatoes for a whole month if I arrive late at a meeting with the Red Army. No way I would let this happen. I jumped out of bed and grabbed my uniform, getting change as fast as I could.

”See you later, Cassie! And you little princess, don't exhaust your mother too much.”

”How can you be so sure it’s a girl? When did you leave your guns to become a gynaecologist?”

Cassie was smiling, the kind of fake smile I could sometimes see on Sirius’ face. However, I barely paid attention to it, thinking she was just tired and barely had a look for her as I put on my military cap.

”I know what I produced, I’ll let ya know!”

I winked at her before hurrying to the Central Quarter.

*******

After the meeting, I decided to enjoy the good weather and to take a stroll in the shopping streets. As I walked, I gazed at the shops when some little green baby pyjamas caught my attention. I thought back at when Cassie announced me she was expecting. Once I had calmed down from the extreme joy I had experienced, we decided together to attribute the green colour to this baby, a colour of hope that suits boys and girls alike. The little one became our little frog, the cutest frog in the world. I could already picture myself, playing in the fields with our child, running and jumping everywhere after a picnic on a sunny day like this one. Ray would be the godfather and Margareth the godmother of course. What a lucky baby...

Remembering the look on my beloved face this morning, I decided to make her a surprise and bought the cute pyjamas. I walked back to the headquarters, feeling as light as a feather, daydreaming. I couldn't wait to become a father.

*******

When I came back home, however, something in the atmosphere was different. I tensed immediately. I ran into Margareth. Worry was all across her features.

”Hey, Margareth, did something happened while I was out? Please, tell me.”

I’ve never seen her like this. My best buddy’s woman looked like she was about to cry.

”It’s Cassiopée... She locked herself up in her room and refused to let anyone in since this morning. It's not just a bad mood. There must be something else. Usually, when she has a problem with someone or something, she always tells me. But here... She told me that she wasn't worthy to get anyone’s help or affection.”

I immediately understood that it must be related to the baby. Bad mood or not, my most important duty now was to check what was wrong and to stay with her.

”That’s not good, not good at all... Please, Margareth, tell Sirius I will do my paperwork later. For now, I have other priorities. Explain the situation and...”

”He already knows. He gave you the rest of the day off as well. Go and tell me as soon as you can if I can help.”

”I will, thanks.”

I hurried to my beloved room as if my life or hers was on the line. Please, please, please, tell me it's just one more weird effect the hormones have on pregnant women, please tell me she is just in a really bad mood and she will get better after a good night of sleep. Please...

I repeated this polite word like a mantra in my head until I reached her door. I knocked. No one answered.

”Cassie? Cassie, it's me, Fenrir.”

I knocked again, desperately but she gave me no sign. Finally, I decided to open the door by myself, with the key she gave me when we got married, as a symbol that we were now sharing everything.

*******

I will never forget what I saw this day. My wife, the love of my life, the woman I share everything with was there, lying on her bed. I could have thought she was just resting if there wasn't a river of red liquid dripping between her legs. Her complexion was so pale I mistook her with a ghost for a short moment. My head was spinning and all I could do was to rush over her bed to check if she was still alive. Cassie sighed faintly when I took her hand in mine and placed it against my cheek. Cold. So cold.

”Please, honey, wake up...”

When I felt her hand becoming wet, I realized I was crying. I was about to scream at the top of my lungs when Cassiopée finally opened her eyes.

”Fenrir... Let me here... I... I don't... Deserve your attention... I’m so useless...”

I placed a finger on her delicate lips, making her stop right away.

”A doctor is on his way. Try to hold on until then. Please, don’t leave me, Cassie...”

”Fenrir... You haven't listened to me... I lost our child... I don't deserve to be loved by anyone after this... Just let me die here, with our little frog...”

The air in the room seemed so cold to me at this moment, even though we were still in the middle of July. My blood turned to ice when I heard the joyful lady I married spitting such horrible things about her. She stared at me, panting, until the tears in her eyes made her turn away.

”Find someone better than me. A woman that could give birth to your beautiful child. Your daughter, your precious little one...”

I felt my heart breaking into thousands of pieces. How can she say such horrible things? Of course, I was extremely pained that she had lost out child but that doesn't make me less in love with her. In no time, I found myself hugging tight the only woman I cared at that moment.

”Cassie. Listen to me now. I love you and I will always love you. Remember? We promised to support each other in the best as well as in the worst moments. Tell me you still mean it. Please.”

I felt her falling apart in my arms, crying and letting all the tears she had held back falling. Soon, my jacket was wet so was her dress but neither of us cared. We just held each other until the doctor arrived.

*******

”Had it really to be Kyle?”

Cassie asked me while we were getting ready for the night, a sad smile on her face.

”He had always been taking care of everyone in the Red Army, but also in all of Cradle. He is the best doctor we can find here when he is not drunk, that is. I noticed he wasn't today. I have to say it surprised me.”

We both chuckled as if the tension that had been in the air all this time was finally vanishing.

”Was it really necessary to add that I truly was Lancelot’s cousin? Am I really that awful?”

”As a patient, certainly. As a wife, you are all I could ever ask for. You are so brave I have no doubt you will become even stronger after this.”

She stayed quiet as I kissed her on the forehead, perfectly aware that difficult times were ahead of us and we will both need time to recover from this loss. But tonight, we had both agreed that enough tears had been shed.

”Goodnight, honey”

”Goodnight, cupcake”

We acted as if everything was normal even though we both knew neither of us was alright. Our little frog was gone, we haven't had the chance to meet her and all we can do for now is imagining all sorts of adventures we could have lived together. I was doing this and I knew Cassie was doing the same. As soon as the clock struck midnight, tears would start to fall again, as if we wanted to create a lake for our tadpole.

”I swear that if this tadpole has a lake, the next one will have a cradle.”

All my wife could do was to nod as she eventually fell asleep in my arms and I was soon following her into a sleepy yet restless end of the night.

*******

Still here? So I’m tagging @hejer-maomao of course, @muggzc, @kiarigirl, @plumpblueberry, @lovingsiriusoswald, @lovingikesen, @jonahlover42069, @pianoperson, @alloveroliver-ash (angst break in the middle of the Kinktober) and @saphyhowl.

Please tell me if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[featheredglasspen]

Review: A Thousand Beginnings and Endings by Ellen Oh and Elsie Chapman

A Thousand Beginnings and Endings by Ellen Oh and Elsie Chapman is an anthology retelling of East and South Asian mythology through various female voices. Review under the cut.

Rating:  ★ ★ ★ 1/2

The description of this is a little short, but that’s because, like I said, it’s an anthropology. Anthology means that there are several stories inside this small one.  This is definitely one of the better YA short story collections I have read. As with all anthologies, some stories are much stronger than others, but I enjoyed far more than I disliked. Plus, it was just so great to see the exploration of mythologies we don’t often see in the mainstream. And, honestly, it's just so refreshing to see fantasy stories outside of the vaguely-Medieval Euro-centric books we've come to expect. There's a whole world of fascinating history and culture out there - it's time to explore it! My average rating over the fifteen stories was 3.7. Now I will rate each one and discuss my thoughts on them. This is going to be a long one so buckle up!

Forbidden Fruit by Roshani Chokshi - 5 stars

The collection gets off to a bang with this gorgeous Filipino fairy tale and love story. I didn't love Chokshi's first novel The Star-Touched Queen, but I have to say that her flowery, poetic writing works MUCH better in a short story. It's lush and vivid, raising goosebumps along my arms at its end. A goddess falls in love with a human man - oh, what could possibly go wrong?

Olivia’s Table by Alyssa Wong - 4 stars

This was a little strange, but in the best possible way. Wong takes on the Chinese Hungry Ghost Festival in her story. A young girl who has lost her beloved mother makes it her duty to feed crowds of ghosts. It's a tale about grief, told in sweet, subtle interactions. There is something so wonderful and sad about this uniting of the living and the dead through food.

Steel Skin by Lori M. Lee - 3.5 stars

If I was rating the ending alone, this would probably get five stars. It's a science-fiction story with androids, but also about grief and the loss of a loved one. There's the familial aspect: the narrator's relationship with her father hasn't been the same since her mother died; and also a mystery aspect: she teams up with a friend to uncover the truth behind the androids that were recalled. For the most part, I glided through the story, kinda enjoying it but not really loving it like the previous two. And then the ending happened. Perfection.

Still Star-Crossed by Sona Charaipotra - 2 stars

It's a shame about this one because it took some interesting steps but stopped very abruptly and strangely. I turned the page and was shocked to discover that it was over! It's a Punjabi folktale retelling and the author's explanation for the story was really interesting, but I didn’t think her intentions came across at all. The main guy was pretty creepy, too.

The Counting of Vermillion Beads by Aliette De Bodard - 4 stars

Like a lot of these stories, this one was quite weird. Though I found myself really liking it. I also found myself doing some reading into the Vietnamese story of Tam and Cam, which starts like something of a Cinderella tale, in which a jealous sister envies the other's beauty and it leads to tragedy. Here, Bodard rewrites it with a more positive spin, showing the power of sibling love above all else.

The Land of the Morning Calm by E. C. Myers - 5 stars

Aww. This was one seriously emotional, beautiful story about loss and gaming. As gaming is such an important part of Korean culture, it was great to see it explored here. And while I usually find video game-centred stories too light and silly, Myers did a fantastic job of showing how a game can be really important for someone. It can be a much-needed escape, a creativity outlet, or a doorway to an unending universe. I liked this story so much because it took something I don't usually love and did something new and deeply moving with it.

The Smile by Aisha Saeed - 4 stars

Well, I always like a good feminist fairytale! And I LOVE what Saeed did with this one. She takes a tragic love story and rewrites it to give a king's courtesan choice, freedom and agency. It's a gorgeously-written South Asian addition, and somehow both happy and sad. Happy, because it is about a woman finally getting to make her own choices and understanding what love really is. But sad, because much must be given up for the sake of freedom.

Girls Who Twirl and Other Dangers by Preeti Chhibber - 3 stars

This was okay. I enjoyed the alternating between Hindu myths and a modern-day celebration of Navaratri, a holiday I had never heard of before. But, though educational, I didn't feel as much of a spark with this one as I did with the others. It was light, but fairly bland. It seemed a little too long, too.

Nothing into All by Renée Ahdieh - 4 stars

I really enjoyed this one! It's a retelling of the Korean folktale Goblin Treasure and I loved what the author did with it. A girl makes a trade for goblin magic so she can achieve her dream of going away to music school, but her brother becomes angry that she isn't using the magic to make gold that could benefit the family. It's a tale about siblings, forgiveness, the decisions we make and how bad actions can be hiding a good person.

Spear Carrier by Rahul Kanakia - 2 stars

Too long and emotionless for my tastes. I felt like this story was droning on and on in parts, and I neither learned something new from it, nor experienced an emotional response to it. The protagonist goes on and on about wanting to be a hero, and about life and death, and I just took so little away from reading it.

Code of Honor by Melissa de la Cruz - 2 stars

There was a definite slip right around this later middle part of the book. My two least favourite stories were lumped together here. Melissa de la Cruz's work seemed to be a companion to her Blue Bloods series, which I have not read and don't particularly have any interest in. This story was about Filipino aswangs - vampire witches - and contained a lot of gore and gruesomeness, but not a lot of emotion. A potentially interesting concept that left me feeling cold.

Bullet, Butterfly by Elsie Chapman - 4 stars

Gorgeous. Chapman retells the Chinese tale of the Butterfly Lovers - a "tragic tale of two young lovers kept apart by familial duty". Set during a war, this reimagining sees a boy posing as a girl and falling in love with another girl called Zhu. The author breathes new life into a very old concept - that of forbidden love and being torn between duty and what your heart truly wants. Beautifully-written with a touching ending.

Daughter of the Sun by Shveta Thakrar - 4 stars

Inspired by two stories from The Mahabharata, this is a powerful feminist tale about sticking to your guns and putting your true passion first. Always. I loved reading about the two stories this was based on - about “Savitri and Satyavan” and “Ganga and Shantanu”. The theme of a smart woman cleverly tricking a god or demon or jinni seems to come up a lot in South Asian folktales and I must confess: I like it.

The Crimson Cloak by Cindy Pon - 5 stars

Oh, I loved this! I'm not sure why but I sometimes love it when the narrator speaks directly to the reader with a conspiratorial wink (You can never out wait a goddess, Dear Reader. I have all the time in the world.). In this, Pon retells “The Cowherd and the Weaver Girl”, which is itself a wonderful folktale, but here becomes even more so. It's very romantic, definitely a love story, but it's a good one. The author gives a voice to the mostly silent weaver girl in this version, allowing her to tell the story from her perspective. 

Eyes like Candlelight by Julie Kagawa - 4 stars

I wonder if this story has anything to do with Kagawa's upcoming novel Shadow of The Fox because it is also about foxes (well, kitsunes, to be precise). Takeo, the protagonist in this story, is an extremely likable hero and we get pulled along for an adventure with one of Japan's most loved mythical creatures: kitsunes. Typically, human/fox shapeshifters. It's also a little creepy, too. Kagawa captures the eerie small-town setting perfectly and, let's not lie, there's something deeply unsettling about never knowing whether a human is really a human or something else.

Overall, this was a stunning anthology. I would really love to see more fantasy short story collections exploring mythologies around the world with own voices authors. If you like fantasy and you like short stories, I highly recommend these.

Until next time.

[vincent-frankenstein]

Shatter

Chapter Eighteen: Kick It Up A Notch

Summary: Logic is a storm. He’s a furious fire, raging deep inside; thunder strong enough to tear the mindscape to pieces, lightning bright enough to take control. And the storm grows with each time he’s ignored or disregarded, each time his so-called “family” pushes him aside. This is a golden opportunity — how could Rage not take it?

When lightning strikes, Deceit is left to pick up the shattered pieces left behind. The light sides are the only ones who can stop Logic and take Rage off his throne, the only ones who can save Thomas. Deceit just has to fix the damage Logic wrought. He just has to bring back the light.

(And maybe, maybe fall in love with them in the process.)

Warnings: violence, manipulation, blood, corruption, sympathetic deceit, villain logan, swearing, dark side ocs, basically just logan and rage being ASSHOLES and hurting everyone including thomas

Pairings: eventual DAMP (starting with Roceit, then Moceit, and finally Anxceit)

{ Read on AO3 | Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Interlude | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Seventeen }

@dante1138 @unlikelynightmareconnoisseur @dealings-ofthe-raven @nerdypandastuff @sammy-the-eye @spirits-in-my-thoughts  @c0re0psis @just-a-baby-bee-witchblr @theultimatemomfriend @brownie-aunt @jemthebookworm (lmk if u wanna be added to/removed from the taglist!)

Deceit was warm.

That was all he knew, trapped in that wonderfully diaphanous place, somewhere beyond sleep but not quite awake. Warmth surrounded him on all sides, and he leaned into it with a comforted hiss, darkness and colors swirling before his tired eyes. The warmth shifted to better encompass him, arms curling around his back, a chest rising and falling against his face, and he pushed into it as closely as he could, relishing in the deep comfort it brought.

Wait.

Wait.

Deceit’s eyes snapped open and immediately met the sight of Roman’s muted gray-red sash, pressed up against his face. His gaze travelled up, to Roman’s head, which had been curled around his own, and then down to his own arms, wrapped tightly around Roman’s waist. He shoved away with a frantic, terrified hiss — his foot got tangled in the blankets — and he flipped over the edge of the bed, landing in a panicked heap on the floor. Roman rolled over in his sleep, murmuring something about mashed potatoes.

Deceit’s heart pounded a frantic staccato beat in his throat. His breath hitched just beneath it. The warmth still buzzed through every inch of his body — through every inch of bare skin that had brushed against Roman, and holy hell, it hurt. Fire spread across his skin, burning agony, and he choked on the smoke.

No. He had to get a hold on himself. This meant nothing. He was a coldblooded creature, of course he’d gravitated towards the closest source of warmth. And thankfully, that source of warmth hadn’t seemed to have noticed at all. Roman snored away, completely oblivious to Deceit and his panic.

Deceit sucked in a deep breath, trembling from head to toe, and yanked his lopsided cloak back into place. Already, the warmth was fading from his skin, and the air around him felt suffocatingly cold in comparison. A part of him wished, longed, to climb back into bed and curl back into the warmth, curl back into Roman —

He was out the door before his mind could even finish the thought, his feet carrying him down the empty path to who-knows-where. Revulsion built in his chest and climbed up his throat, stinging in the corners of his eyes. He felt…

Disgusting horrible wrong wrong wrong —

Fine. He felt fine. Roman hadn’t even been awake to notice his little mistake. And if he did somehow remember, Deceit would just praise his overactive imagination and pretend it had never happened.

He sighed sharply, slowing to a stop in the middle of the road. This was exhausting. He thought he knew difficult — he’d been working to reign the others in for 30 years, and that was no easy task — but this was beyond anything he’d ever experienced. He ached from head to toe.

No, no. He didn’t ache. He yearned.

And he hated it more than words could say. All this time spent loathing society and its boogeymen and he still managed to fall into the clutches of the worst of them all: romance. Love. What a wonderful chemical con-job.

He’d watched greater men than him fall to it, and lesser men die for it. Where would he stand, when the boogeyman came to take him for its own? Would he even survive?

He shook his head. He was falling back into that pit of what-ifs, of hypotheticals that he would never allow to come true. And if they wouldn’t come true, there was no use dwelling on them.

He needed a distraction.

The sun had just barely begun to rise over the horizon, spilling light across the kingdom. Roman wouldn’t be awake for a few more hours, at the very least. That left Deceit with plenty of time to kill — time to use to distract himself before these thoughts got out of hand. He spun on the spot, scanning the copy-paste buildings for something, anything to do.

On the edge of town, there were a few unique buildings, just different enough to stand apart from the rest. Deceit hummed thoughtfully, striding towards one to peer in the windows. There were no people to be found, of course — but he could just make out the outlines of objects inside. He pushed open the door.

It was an armory of some kind, completely abandoned — or, rather, never inhabited in the first place. He ran a hand along an empty table and raised an eyebrow at the dust that puffed up at his touch, sticking to his fingertips.

There was a chair in the corner, and an empty fireplace against the far wall, the mantle lined with empty picture-frames. In the other corner was a bin a scrap mantle, twisted and torn into pieces, and above that, several gleaming swords hanging on an ornate rack.

Deceit tilted his head to the side, considering. With nothing better to do, he stood on tip-toes and stretched over the bin, liberating one of the swords. He turned it over in his hand, testing the weight, running a finger down the shining blade. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he stepped back and sliced it through the air, and he grinned as he cleaved through an imaginary enemy, sword gleaming in the growing sunlight —

“What are you doing?”

“AH — what — nothing!” The sword slipped from his grasp and clattered to the ground as he whirled, his heart leaping into his throat. Roman stood in the doorway, arms crossed and eyebrow raised, and Deceit had never wanted to strangle him more. Of course he managed to wake up early that day. Of course.

“Really?” Roman asked. “Because — and correct me if I’m wrong — it looked like you were trying to sword fight.”

Deceit sneered. “Oh, do keep being sarcastic, I love it when you steal my thing.” He stooped to pick up the sword, blushing all the way to the tips of his ears. “That was nothing. I was just bored.”

“Mhm.” Roman gave him a once-over. “Your stance is terrible. Have you ever used a sword before?”

“Yes,” Deceit snapped.

Roman laughed. “Calm down, Salazar S-lie-therin, I’m just being honest.”

“Oh, and you know how much I love that,” Deceit deadpanned. “If you’re such a talented warrior, why don’t you show me how it’s done?”

And then Deceit really, really regretted having the ability to speak, because Roman laughed again and strode over to stand behind him, gently grasping his arms to move them into place. He nudged Deceit’s feet further apart with his own, humming that stupid Steven Universe song the whole time, and Deceit tried to keep his expression neutral as his heart doused his face in gasoline and set it aflame.

“There,” Roman said, satisfied. “Now you look like a true warrior.”

“Great,” Deceit said dryly. Truth be told, he did feel more balanced, but you’d have to kill him before he admitted it. “Now what?”

Roman blinked. “We leave?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “We have to get going. The mindscape isn’t going to save itself!”

Deceit lowered his sword, disappointment blooming in his chest. Roman was right, of course, but… he was not ready for five more hours of silent walking. Not yet. As Roman strode through the doorway, Deceit swiped another sword from the rack and followed him out.

“Fight me!” he declared, with much more gusto than he’d planned. As Roman whirled around to stare at him, eyes wide, he cleared his throat. “I mean — I challenge you.”

Roman’s mouth twitched with amusement. He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I’m as entertained as could be,” Deceit drawled. “Totally ready for another five-hour walk.”

Roman raised an eyebrow, taking the sword Deceit offered. He turned it experimentally in his hands, expression growing darker, more clouded, and for a moment Deceit felt cold regret seep unbidden into his bones. Roman’s own beloved sword had only just been broken; perhaps giving him a new one so soon wasn’t the best idea?

But then Roman straightened up, swinging it through the air, and Deceit relaxed. “Alright,” he said, a hint of curiosity in his voice. “I accept your challenge, peasant.”

Deceit gasped in mock-offense, sliding his feet apart to match Roman’s stance. He lunged and Roman blocked on instinct, their swords clashing together in a shower of sparks. Roman twisted his wrist and sent Deceit’s sword clattering to the ground, and Deceit stumbled backwards.

“There, I win,” Roman said, with an infuriating smirk. Deceit blinked, heat rushing to his cheeks, and he scooped his sword back up off the floor. He wasn’t done yet — he hadn’t even started to have fun. Besides, maybe attacking Roman would banish those traitorous thoughts. He could vent his frustrations and be on his merry way.

Unlikely, but… a snake could dream.

“Ah ah ah, not so fast!” he taunted, waggling his finger. Roman raised an eyebrow and shifted back into his stance, boots scuffling along the dirt road. “I won’t give up without a real fight, your highness.”

“I doubt you’d be much of a fight,” Roman scoffed. Then, as an afterthought, brows furrowing the slightest bit: “And I am not much of an opponent.”

“Oh, no, I don’t think so,” Deceit agreed, mischief sparkling in his eyes. Roman blinked, sword lowering.

“Wh —”

But Deceit cut him off with an evil cackle, slipping into his villainous persona without a second thought. He wanted to have fun with this — and he was part of an actor, after all. Plus, giving Roman a reason to fight, a story to bring to completion, a dastardly villain to slay might be exactly what he needed to re-light his fire. “You’re weak, your highness,” he sneered. “With you out of the way, your pathetic kingdom will belong to me!”

Roman hesitated. He seemed caught between agreeing, arguing, and joining the act. “If my kingdom is so pathetic,” he said slowly, as if he hadn’t quite decided what to do yet, “why are you so intent on stealing it?”

Deceit waved a hand dismissively. “’Tis the life of a villain, I’m afraid. Pillaging, plundering —”

“Isn’t that pirates?”

“Pirates are villains!” Deceit said. “And with your kingdom under my control, I shall bring every citizen to their knees!” Another evil cackle, his arms spread wide, amusement swelling in his chest. Oh, how he’d missed acting. Roman lifted his sword, tilting his head as he regarded Deceit.

“And what if I stop you?” he asked. “What if I protect my kingdom?”

“Then you will prove yourself to be the prince I know you are,” Deceit said before he could stop himself, his voice forceful, and genuinely proud. Roman’s expression wavered for a moment, and Deceit cleared his throat. “So come on! Do you dare challenge me?”

Roman paused, lips pursed thoughtfully, and Deceit laughed. He knew exactly was this interaction was missing. “I can see you’re still undecided,” he said. “Allow me to… sweeten the deal. Slay me, and I’ll burn your kingdom to the ground!”

Roman’s eyebrows raised. “Don’t you mean or?” he asked, with growing excitement. “That seems like a pretty crucial conjunction.”

Deceit sighed over-dramatically. “Oh, yes, I suppose. Slay me, or I’ll burn your kingdom to the ground!”

A laugh tumbled from Roman’s lips, and he smiled. Internally, Deceit commended himself on his Disney references. “Alright, villain,” Roman declared. “I accept your challenge!”

Deceit grinned — and the two rushed each other, metal scraping against metal as they brought their swords crashing together. Deceit twisted, raising his sword in a wide arc through the air, and Roman leaped back to catch his blade and shoved Deceit backwards. He laughed as he blocked Deceit’s next attack, and Deceit’s face erupted in heat just distracting enough that Roman was able to knock his sword from his hands.

“Ha! I win again!” Roman boasted, and for a moment Deceit felt his soul leave his body, because holy shit — but then he slipped back into the battle and slipped past Roman, dropping to his knees and grabbing his sword. He lifted it just in time to block Roman’s attack, pushing against it with all his might.

“You fight almost as well as a man,” Deceit purred. Roman laughed again, bright and happy.

“Funny, I was going to say the same thing about you!”

Swords clashing, the battle raged on, and Deceit fell into the rhythm of the fight, blocking and dodging and slicing. He could see why Roman enjoyed this so much; it was a dance all its own, bodies twisting around each other to the beat of their swords. He studied Roman’s movements and copied them, and then —

And then Roman’s sword went flying from his hands and landed with a clatter behind him, and Deceit stood tall, the end of his blade held just beneath Roman’s chin. Silence reigned as the two stared from opposite ends of the sword, breathing heavily. Deceit grinned, and only remembered at the last second that he was meant to be playing the villain. He shoved all happiness out of his expression, replacing it with cold, victorious villainy.

“You lose,” he purred. “What a shame. Say farewell, your highness. Your kingdom belongs to —”

“Not so fast!” Roman declared, his cheeks burning bright red — and Deceit only had a moment to realize that his face was bright red, his face had color, he had color again before Roman darted back and held out his hand, determination shining in his eyes. Sparks flew around his outstretched palm, glimmering in every color of the rainbow as they shot through the air, and Deceit gaped as a sword appeared in Roman’s hand, gleaming.

And before he knew what was happening, Roman shot forward and knocked his sword from his hand, and suddenly his blade was beneath Deceit’s chin, cold metal pressing into his skin just lightly enough that it didn’t hurt. “How the tables turn,” Roman purred, seemingly unaware of what he’d just done, and Deceit spluttered, face bright red, and god, when had it gotten so hot?

Finally, he got a hold of his voice. “You summoned a sword,” he managed, and Roman blinked, his blade lowering.

“I-I did,” Roman said softly, gazing at the sword in his hands like it held all the answers to every question in the world. He ran his thumb along a gemstone embedded in the hilt, engraved with his logo, and then trailed his finger down the blade. It was so much more beautiful than the one he’d had before, the one Logan had broken. A hesitant smile grew on his face. “I did! Ha! Take that, Logan!”

“It’s completely revolting,” Deceit said proudly, gaze caught in the way the sword shone. “I’m not at all impressed.”

Roman’s smile grew into a bright grin, and he lifted his head to look at Deceit, eyes shining. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” he said, and his voice was oh-so-soft, and Deceit’s heart skipped several beats. “You’re not such a bad guy after all.”

What?

What?

Deceit blinked once, twice, three times, and his brain threw out his ability to speak in favor of his ability to scream internally. He opened his mouth and closed it and then opened it again, gaping like a dying fish, his brain blue-screening. Error 404: Deceit.exe has stopped working.

Not such a bad guy, his brain repeated, somewhere between a shocked scream and a taunt. Not such a bad guy, not such a bad guy, not bad not bad not bad —

“Dee?” Roman asked, tilting his head to the side. “Are you okay?”

“I — I am —” He growled, cleared his throat, and yanked his cloak back into place. This was ridiculous. He should be offended! Sure, he wasn’t evil, but Roman couldn’t just come and yank his Bad Guy title out from under him just like that! “For your information, this changes everything,” he said, the words tumbling from his mouth in a rush. “I’m not still a devilishly evil bastard, and I don’t want you to refer to me as such.”

Roman raised an eyebrow. “Got it,” he said, after a moment’s pause, and Deceit was downright incensed to see the way the corners of his mouth twitched with amusement. “Well, devilishly evil bastard, thank you… for everything.”

“I don’t appreciate your tone,” Deceit snapped, and Roman just laughed. Face burning, Deceit stomped his foot and turned on his heel, crossing his arms tightly. “I’m a goddamn asshole.”

“Sure,” Roman said.

Deceit stiffened, swallowing hard. Helping the light sides one time didn’t mean he was one of them. He wasn’t Virgil; he wasn’t going to go native. He was still one of the Others — and sure, he wasn’t as cruel as the rest of them, but he was still a wicked, manipulative liar! He couldn’t be anything else.

Because how could the balance survive, if the gatekeeper himself lost his way?

[love-sapphirerose]

Naruto: 30 Storylines Boruto Wants Everyone To Forget

https://www.thegamer.com/naruto-storylines-boruto-wants-everyone-forget/

With the reboot of everyone's favorite anime, Naruto fans are noticing inconsistencies. Here are 30 storylines that the creators want fans to ignore.

In the modern day-and-age, there is one word that will elicit a rather polarizing reaction from people. Either they will give you a quizzical look as they slowly move away from what they perceive to be an absolute maniac, or else they'll jump up in joy as they recount some of their most beloved anime and manga. Yep, you guessed right — the word we're talking about is none other than shōnen. It's a word around which so many things have been built that trying to talk about all of them is close to impossible. Thankfully, we're not here to talk about all of these anime and manga — rather, our aim is to talk about only one piece of shōnen entertainment that took over the world by storm. If the first word that came to your mind was Naruto, then you're absolutely right in guessing that (although we're assuming that the title was a dead giveaway).

The fact of the matter is that Naruto has certainly become one of the most popular anime and manga series of all time. Kishimoto has created a world that is so incredibly fleshed out that most people are already familiar with the ins-and-outs of this place. The show was so beloved that a sequel series by the name of Boruto: Naruto Next Generations actually came into play so that rabid fans would be provided with even more material centering around the land of the Shinobi.

However, not all is well with the series — fans are less than enthused about some of the elements of Boruto, namely because of certain things that have already been presented or established in the Naruto universe. Here are 30 such storylines in Naruto that the creators of Boruto wish everyone would just forget.

30. Naruto's Vast Chakra.

Everyone who's seen Naruto can vouch for one universal truth that has been spouted out time and time again — Naruto's chakra reserves are incredibly vast. His penchant to form thousands of shadow clones and fight for hours without being exhausted is proof enough of this.

However, if you've seen Boruto, then this quality doesn't really get reflected.

At the Hokage level, you might assume that Naruto is one of the most adept chakra users of his generation. However, he's failed at the most basic tasks multiple times and tends to get exhausted after the slightest bit of effort.

29. The Very Concept Of Chakra Itself.

To say that only Naruto's chakra system has been nerfed in Boruto would be a gross understatement — in fact, pretty much everyone in the series has been nerfed quite heavily.

The entire concept of chakra has been turned upside down.

What used to be a system that governed every form and type of jutsu — with the sole exception of taijutsu — has turned into nothing more than a glorified excuse to showcase cool blue auras... that don't even stay in control!

Get your act together, Boruto.

28. It Was Stated That Only Three Dōjutsu Exist In The World.

During the events of Naruto, it had been stated time and time again that the forms of dōjutsu present in the world were only of three types — the Byakugan, the Sharingan, and the Rinnegan.

However, fast forward to Boruto, and this wasn't even remotely the case.

Now, there's the Tenseigan, the Jōgan, and the Ketsuryūgan (just what is this last one) to take into account as well! To assume that the historians of the Naruto universe were inept is a poor excuse that Kishimoto is hiding behind.

At the end of the day, these extra dōjutsu are just a lazy way to augment someone's power level.

27. Sasuke Performing Horrible Crimes And Acts That Are Promptly Forgotten.

Sasuke is one of the most beloved characters in the series, don't get me wrong on that. It's obvious that he's one of the reasons why people even watched the series, to begin with... but that doesn't excuse the whole host of crimes he's committed.

Just to put it into context, Sasuke started his very own mini-Akatsuki, attacked the Kages, ended the life of a Hokage, caused numerous avoidable demises... and was almost going to destroy the whole world, had it not been for Naruto!

Jeez... that is quite inexcusable, isn't it?

26. Orochimaru's Malevolent Actions Are Ignored.

Speaking of past crimes, it's time to talk about another fan favorite character that played a major role throughout the series — yep, we're talking about the one and only, Orochimaru. In Boruto, this villain is allowed to run Otogakure, his very own village!

What has he done that mandates such a stupefied reaction? Well, for starters, he experimented — and ended the lives of — countless children, laid waste to a Hokage (he and Sasuke can share that honor), caused endless destruction, and did a myriad of other actions that are definitely on the evil side.

25. Kabuto Performing Countless Transgressions But Being Allowed To Run An Orphanage Anyway.

Of course, we can't talk about Orochimaru without mentioning his loyal sidekick, Kabuto. The fact of the matter is that this character also got a free pass along with Orochimaru and Sasuke, even though his actions could've ended the entire shinobi world.

There are several reasons why this character didn't deserve a clean slate, but we're going to pick out the most egregious one of the lot — his Reanimation Jutsu is the entire reason why Obito managed to amass an army, in the first place!

If that isn't enough of a reason, I don't know what is.

24. The Entire Mythos Of The Ōtsutsuki Clan Being Virtually Untouchable.

I think I'm definitely not exaggerating when I say that the Ōtsutsuki clan is basically the family that helped usher in the age of the Shinobi — and trust me, that's definitely not an exaggeration. The mythos that was built around this family should prove beyond a shadow of a doubt as to just how powerful the Ōtsutsuki actually were.

However, by the time Boruto ruled out, this aura that the Ōtsutsuki sported has completely disappeared. Kaguya was a pushover near the end of the series, and the duo of Momoshiki and Kinshiki was extremely disappointing as well.

23. Naruto Having Family Issues.

To simply state out of the blue that Naruto didn't exactly have a great childhood is a gross understatement — the lack of a father or mother figure, coupled with his status of being the Nine-Tails Jinchūriki, led to him being ostracized from society during his formative years.

So, why is it that he's ignoring his own family now that he's Hokage? From not even bothering to eat his wife's food to sending a Shadow Clone on his daughter's birthday — there's no excuse to be made, especially by someone who understands the pain of being alone.

22. Sasuke Having A Horrible Childhood But Still Ignoring Sarada Anyway.

When it comes to bad parenting, it seems that best friends really are alike, aren't they? Just like Naruto has never been around for his son, it seems that Sasuke has also prioritized everything over the task of being a father and supportive pillar for his daughter.

I mean, just imagine — unlike Naruto, Sasuke has experienced the pain of loss. Coupling that with a sense of crippling loneliness should've ideally compelled him to prioritize his daughter above anything else... but alas, it seems that logic is not a mandatory thing for people to have in Boruto.

21. The Focus Of The Entire Series On Valuing Bonds.

The bond that Naruto yearned for with his parents is not the only thing that needs to be discussed here — a major crux of the original series was the fact that everyone had bonds that they treasured, to the point where they were willing to give up their own life for the people closest to them.

However, with the advent of Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, it seems that the entire series is missing this crucial element. The titular character himself is a great example — Boruto has formed a ton of bonds throughout the series, but he's never treasured them like any of the characters in the previous generation.

What a sad turn of events.

20. The Very Existence Of Previous Minor Characters.

Speaking of other characters, I have only one question to ask — what is their purpose in Boruto? While I understand that the whole point of this sequel is to focus on the new generation of Shinobi, this basically means that a colorful cast of characters who were already sidelined in the last arc of the previous series won't be given any attention... again.

This is such a massive disservice, especially to great characters like Rock Lee, Gaara, Sakura (hey, don't snigger), Choji, Shino, and Iruka, who were a crucial aspect of what made the series great in its heyday.

Well, at the very least, people like Shikamaru and Kakashi are at least somewhat important, if nothing else.

19. The Sheer Power Of Both Naruto And Sasuke.

While we might've already mentioned the fact that Naruto has been nerfed quite a bit in Boruto, this fact definitely deserves a further glance. In fact, Naruto is not the only person who suffered from this — Sasuke's powers have also unfortunately gone down the drain as well.

The two shinobi who used to be absolute powerhouses by the end of the original series are nothing more than a shell of their former selves in Boruto. It's a darn shame since we would've liked to see more of their astounding power in new combat scenarios.

18. The Era Of Peace That Was Supposedly Ushered In After The Fourth Shinobi World War.

The Fourth Shinobi World War was a landmark event that completely rocked the ninja world as we know it. Oh, and it's also considered by many to be one of the most bloated, rushed, and uninteresting arcs in Naruto... but let's keep that out of the way for now.

The fact of the matter is that the end of this war was supposedly going to bring about a new era of peace and harmony. However, if you've seen Boruto, then you know for a fact that things are still as problematic as ever.

While the scale of these problems might not be all that massive, it's still a worrying development nevertheless.

17. Naruto's Ramen Obsession.

I think I'm not just speaking for myself when I say that Naruto sparked a love of Japanese food in me. To be more precise, he made me love one particular dish that served as an introduction to Japanese cuisine — ramen.

The times when Naruto used to have food at Ichigakure Ramen and absolutely demolish their food is long gone. Now, with the massive responsibility of being the Hokage, it seems that the days of Naruto hogging massive amounts of food is behind him now.

16. The Tradition Behind Team 10'S Leadership.

The leadership status of Team 10 has always been quite iconic for a whole host of reasons. Generally, this team consisted of three members from the Nara, Akimichi, and Yamanaka family. These three whippersnappers would then be led by a member of the Sarutobi clan.

However — in classic Boruto fashion — this age-old ritual has also been broken in the latest installment. While the children from all three families are still constant, the ninja leading them — Moegi — has no relation to the Sarutobi clan.

You can bet that fans were less than happy about this development... or — dare I say — was it a genuine oversight?

15. The Stuff That Sakura Faced At The Hand Of Sasuke.

Ever since the start of the series, one thing was always constant — Sakura had intense feelings for Sasuke. However, childhood crushes rarely stay permanent, and things developed to a point where Sasuke completely disregarded Sakura's feeling and treated her like — for lack of a better word — crap.

So, you'd think that after facing all this stuff, Sakura would shun her crush and go for a man who treated her properly, right?

WRONG.

She ended up with Sasuke only, which was one of the many decisions in Boruto that fans felt wronged by.

14. The Capable Nature Of Ninjas.

The status of jōnin, and — to an extent, even chūnin — is something that denotes the effectiveness of a particular ninja. Achieving this rank is nothing short of amazing, and goes to show just how powerful your skills are.

However, one look at the events of the latest series, and you might be forgiven for being confused. All of the ninjas who've received these ranks are woefully inept at their jobs, with freaking low-ranking genin being a hundred times more efficient and result-oriented than them.

13. The Potential Of Female Ninjas.

As much as I hate to say it, it must be said that Kishimoto did a horrible job of making any of his female characters interesting. They were either a plot point for the protagonists to find their drive to move forward, or served as nothing more than an excuse for fan service.

Kishimoto could've redeemed himself by making Kaguya seem like the most unassailable threat to mankind's existence... but then even she was taken care of with little to no issues.

What. A. Waste.

12. The Fact That Children Need To Be Kept Safe.

Regardless of how the shinobi world might carry out its day-to-day activities, you can't sit and convince me of the fact that it's perfectly fine for children to embark on quests that can put them in substantial danger, which includes the possibility that their life might be snuffed out as well.

This was a problem that plagued the original series as well but reached a whole new level in Boruto: Naruto Next Generations. Now, we have a bunch of kids duking it out in highly dangerous situations... simply because the stakes need to be raised high for any scenario to be even remotely interesting.

11. The Interesting Character Development Of Naruto.

It feels like we're circling back to Naruto time and time again, but the fact of the matter is that this character has suffered the most with the advent of the latest series. We've literally seen him grow from a young, lonely brat into a sensible adult who is loved by everyone.

But, fast-forward to the events of Boruto, and it seems that Naruto has forgotten everything that led him to become such a distinguished enigma in the first place. He doesn't treasure his relationships, has lower power levels, and has generally regressed across a number of verticals.

10. The Highly Durable Nature Of Naruto.

It seems that we simply can't talk about the problems of Boruto's tale without mentioning his father time and time again. However, such are the transgressions that the latest series commits that it's impossible for us to ignore him as well.

Naruto is supposed to be incredibly durable... and yet, there are times when he's been dispatched with ease. Kinshiki and Momoshiki were able to take him with ease, but that's still forgivable.

What is not forgettable is the fact that the most powerful shinobi — arguably of all time — was knocked out in a single blow by his daughter.

9. His Constant And Unwavering Need To Become Hokage.

The knockout blow that Himawari landed on Naruto was enough to take care of him for an entire day. While this might be alright after a bit of cribbing, the worst part is that this happened on the very day when Naruto was to be inaugurated as the Seventh Hokage!

So, in other words, the very day that Naruto pined for his entire life went to waste because he got knocked out by his freakin' daughter,

If that's not a slap in the face of fans all over the world, then we don't know what is.

8. Naruto's Whiskers Being Indicative Of The Fox Spirit Inside Him.

The entire reasons why Naruto has his whiskers isn't because of a misplaced style statement. Rather, it's because of the fact that the spirit of the Nine-Tailed Fox resided in him, contributing to a rather striking outward presence.

However, this brings to light another plot hole — unlike Naruto, Boruto and Himawari don't have Kurama's chakra in them. If this happens to be the case, then why is it that both of Naruto's kids have the same exact whiskers as his father? It makes absolutely no sense whatsoever.

7. The Introverted Shino Who Gets A Teaching Job.

While Shino didn't get the screen time he rightfully deserved, the fact of the matter is that he was still an interesting character who was liked by the majority of the fanbase. There was one personality trait of his in particular that endeared him to fans — Shino was somewhat introverted and preferred to spend time with his insects.

So, if that's the case, then it's kinda stupid that — by the time Boruto: Naruto Next Generationsrolled out — Shino became an instructor at the academy.

How can someone with zero social skills handle an entire academy full of boisterous children?!

6. Anko's Previous Character Doesn't Fit Her Redesign.

The character of Anko was a highly interesting one. While her appearance and relevance in the original Naruto series might've been brief, it was still notable enough for fans to keep this character in the back of their minds.

However, as Boruto rolled out, fans noticed a development that they simply can't take out of their heads anymore — Anko lost control of her discipline and became quite heavy! This definitely doesn't fit in with Anko's character, and now she's become nothing short of a joke.

A big, bloated,  joke.

5. Choji And Karui Having No Romantic History Whatsoever.

When Boruto's story made its debut, fans were understandably perplexed at the fact that so many of the couples that kickstarted the new generation were quite... random, for lack of a better word. While there are some sensible couplings like that of Naruto and Hinata, other people were grouped together simply for the heck of it.

The partnership of Choji and Karui is a great example. Both individuals have seemingly nothing in common and never really interacted on a romantic level in the original series. So, how is it that both these people ended up marrying with zero chemistry?

4. Naruto's Sage Mode.

Sage Mode is an incredibly powerful transformation, allowing Naruto to reach a new level of power that let him take care of Pain and save Konoha once and for all. However, after this amazing battle, Sage Mode is criminally underutilized by Naruto.

However, there are several moments where this mode could've proven to be quite useful in Boruto. Take the example of the battle with Nue — Naruto is advised not to fight this creature since he could absorb the Nine-Tailed chakra and become even stronger.

However, with Sage Mode, the chakra that Nue absorbs would transform him into a frog, making the fight trivial in every sense of the word.

3. Naruto Mastering His Shadow Clone Jutsu.

The Shadow Clone jutsu is one of the hardest clone techniques to master, and Naruto — to his credit — was able to master the technique with just one glance at the scroll. It showed that Naruto did have some talent and could give high-level shinobi a run for their money.

However, the usability of the Shadow Clone technique is barely touched upon in Boruto.

One simple misstep is enough for Naruto's clone to disappear, while the impact should ideally be far greater. In fact, Naruto should use his clones to handle boring paperwork while he spends some quality time with his family.

2. The Entire Fourth Ninja World War And Its Implications.

The Fourth Ninja War was a major arc in the latter half of Naruto, and a groundbreaking war like this is bound to have some grievous implications. However, fast-forward to Boruto, and it's almost like the war had little to no effect.

It's just another fragment of history now.

This should not be the case at all. Wars are traumatic events that can completely alter the mentality of mankind as we know it. If that's the case, then why is it that people go about with their day-to-day lives as if everything is back to normal?

It's not like the war happened ages ago, and the memory of it should still be fresh in the minds of people in the shinobi universe to this day.

1. The Problem Caused By Criminal Organisations Like The Akatsuki.

The Akatsuki was one of the most diabolical organizations around. They were the driving force that caused tons of mayhem all over the shinobi world, finally culminating in an all-out declaration of war against the entire world!

In Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, there's a new criminal organization called Kara.

However, instead of giving this threat its due importance, the higher-ups at Konoha allow a simple genin like Boruto to investigate this organization. If they'd learned their mistakes from before, then the ideal thing to do would've been to nip the threat in the bud before anything serious happens.