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@desertgourd
It was a night like any other. Nothing special about it, really. Same with the bar. Same with its customers. A hot spot for the young and lonely, both those trying to change and those who wanted to be. One could dive head first into the crowd or get lost in its anonymity, make friends as quickly as part with them again, if so desired, or simply fill one‘s body up with liquor so high that it would drown out the noise and the music and all your demons along with them. It was a perfect place for people watching, too. A group of young women by the entrance were laughing over their cocktails. All but one, that was, who quietly sipped on a glass of soda and seemed a little out of place at their table. Her gaze drifted through the room like a boat lost at sea, never casting anchor. It drifted past the pool table, where a bearded man in his early thirties just raised the bottle of beer in his hand for a grand welcome to an old friend who had just arrived. The newcomer briefly hugged the man with a large smile before wandering off towards the bar to fetch himself something to pour out on the night as well. It did not take long for the bartender to notice him. Money, a few words and another bottle of beer flew across the counter, and the man returned to his pal who was suddenly in the company of a fairly pretty young blonde, whom he introduced to the other.
„You sure you want another, Sweetie?“ The bartender cocked her head at the guest sitting at the corner of her corner with some concern. He nodded without looking up, and dropped his hand back on the table in silence. He knew he shouldn‘t. He was already more intoxicated than he had ever planned on being tonight. But his search had been unsuccessful, none of his brief encounters had stuck, and as the evening had stretched on he had kept wandering from place to place, buying something every time just so that his mouth had something to do. His wallet was screaming bloody murder, but he did not hear it. He didn‘t hear anything at this point, except for the dull rumbling of voices all around him.
A new glass was placed before him with a frown, and he muttered something that vaguely sounded like a thank you. Oh, he was going to regret this tomorrow. But what did it matter? He was going to regret it all either way. The drinks, the day, and his entire miserable existence. Give it a week from now and he would have successfully stuffed them into a box again, abandoning them somewhere deep within the trenches of his soul, and not spare them a second thought until spring. Besides, open wounds were vulnerable to infection, right? With a sigh, Lux lifted the new glass to his lips and emptied it in one go.
What time was it? He glanced down at his phone, but found that he couldn‘t read the numbers. The world was swimming before his eyes, and so were his demons inside. Maybe he should go home. He was too far gone to still bring the night to a successful ending anyway. Pushing himself off his bar stool proved difficult though. Had the floor always been this far away? The young man slipped his phone back into the pocket of his jacket and attempted to stand. At once, the horizon shifted. He stumbled, lost his balance, and only managed to keep himself from falling head first into another customer by clumsily holding onto the counter beside him. A bright thud and the feeling of something wet and cold suddenly washing over his hand told Lux that he had likely just knocked over the other‘s drink. Brilliant. God was truly turning a blind eye on him today. Could his birthday get any worse?
„M‘sorry. Sorry. Uhm-- I‘ll buy you a new one, really sorry. I just--“ He tried to steady himself, glazed eyes waiting for his toppled ship to turn itself back on its belly before looking at the other. At least nobody knew him here. „You okay?“
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@desertgourd said: "I understand you can track people via their chakra signals, not unlike the way a snake detects body heat. Does this extend to fighting? Can you see chakra in the air as an opponent attacks?" bonus detail: for post-war verse
ㅤThe comparison, unexpected that it was, had Itachi tilting his head in interest. A parallel he'd never considered, and yet it made more sense the more he thought about it. It truly wasn't all that different, was it?
ㅤ«You may have just given me inspiration for my next visit to the library.» Now to find books on herpetology actually translated to braille, but well. One thing at a time. «Sharingan allows the user to track chakra, yes. Not to the same depth as the Byakugan, but it is enough to easily follow movements even during battle. And the same applies to any attack imbued in chakra. For example - it doesn't allow me to see a shuriken that is simply thrown in my direction. I can evade it based on sound but not on sight. However, if that same shuriken has chakra threads attached to it, then even if I cannot see it, per se, I can track its position.»
Perhaps it was one those things better shown than told?
«Would you like to put it to the test? We can have an experiment.»
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Pencil icon c:
Send in ✏️ and I’ll use this (improved) incorrect quote generator featuring both our muses!
Gaara: What is the most illegal thing you can do with one gold? Iruka: Exchange it for a hundred copper, put them all in a sock, and then beat someone to death with it.
Gaara: Be careful, I thrive on negative attention.
Gaara: How petty can you get? Iruka: I once edited a Wikipedia article to win an argument I was wrong about.
Gaara: I’m a reverse necromancer. Iruka: Isn’t that just killing people? Gaara: Ah, technically.
Iruka: What is wrong with you? Gaara: Loaded question. Elaborate.
Gaara, T-posing in the doorway: Greetings, Iruka. Iruka, not looking up from their coffee: Good morning, problem child.
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@desertgourd ♥
The journey had been taxing; it always was for those not quite as used to the harshness of the desert. Sakura had made the trip a few times and still she always found herself annoyed at the sand that got everywhere. She finally made it to the Kazekage tower, however, and instantly felt relief once she was indoors.
Temari greeted her once inside - a friendly face who wouldn't scoff at her request to see the Kazekage personally without much of a reason to. They chatted for a bit before Temari guided Sakura to Gaara's office.
"Kazekage-sama," Sakura greeted respectfully with a bow. "I won't take much of your time. I'm currently travelling without a real destination and will be checking into an inn in Suna for a few days. I wanted to say hello to an old friend while I'm here."
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[ @kiigan & @desertgourd ] 𝙱𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙸𝚁 𝙳𝙴𝙰𝙳 > 🎸 GUITAR — my muse's hobbies/interests <
Kimimaro doesn't have many hobbies, his life consist pretty much of training and becoming stronger so as to be the perfect vessel for Orochimaru. However, from time to time he allows himself to enjoy a stroll through the forest, or picking and pressing flowers, collecting animal bones or dancing. Those are the activities he would call hobbies as they bring him great amount of joy and peacefulness.
#𝙱𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝚈𝙰𝚁𝙳 . no grave holds me down . hc .#𝙾𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚄𝚂 . save .#kiigan#desertgourd#animal bones tw#tw animal bones
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Deidara's been having probably the worst several weeks of his life.
On the one hand, faking his death fighting Uchiha Sasuke and grabbing the opportunity to get the hell out of the Akatsuki before he actually did get killed had seemed like a very good idea at the time. On the other hand, he'd been injured, low on clay and chakra both, and was lacking any sort of supplies for the kind of long-term flight he'd been attempting. A split second realization that he wasn't making it out of this fight or the group unless he bailed right then had been enough to get him moving, but weeks on the run had taken their toll.
Keep moving, don't stop, don't be recognized, don't let them find you. Akatsuki would do far worse then simply kill him if they caught wind of him surviving and Deidara was always, always going to bet on Leader-sama or Zetsu already knowing before he would put money on actually fooling them. It didn't stop him from trying though, from staging a suicide explosion and letting his cloak burn to ash and his ring be swallowed up by the bomb.
He'd made it to Wind Country, hoping to resupply at a little village before he kept pushing. Maybe he'd make it out of the Elemental Nations completely.
Whatever his vague plan, it hadn't come to fruition. He'd been distracted, looking for other tails, exhausted and hurting and drained, and he hadn't caught wind of the Suna ANBU who'd spotted him until they were all but on him. He hadn't dared to use his art for fear of giving himself away to Akatsuki, and he was nearly out of clay anyway, so the fight had been vicious, but... short. His taijutsu wasn't amazing on a good day, let alone when he was worn ragged. They'd knocked him out, and now here he was, stirring awake in a stone cell. No windows, thick bars, wrists cuffed to the wall, and ankles chained together. When he shifts, everything throbs with pain and when he flexes his fingers he finds his hands are encased in metal. Grudgingly, he admires their thoroughness. Not that he has the chakra for even the smallest of figures right now but Suna knows the threat he poses.
He's not demonstrating it very well right now but he can appreciate that they know he's dangerous.
Focusing on that helps take his attention off the fluttering feeling of panic that starts in his chest. They probably can't do worse than Leader and Konan would. Except, of course, that Deidara had been the one to capture their Kazekage, and wouldn't that be just the person to use all their best torture methods on? The chains clink softly as he tries to sit up and pull to feel for any weakness, but white-hot agony in his ribs cuts that attempt short. Dirty, messy blonde hair slides over his shoulders and blocks his face from view as he allows the pain to register on his face. Losing his arms hurt like hell, but he had adrenaline and then medical ninjutsu to deal with them. Now he has nothing and he has to force his breathing even and slow.
From one trap to another, one cage to another. Maybe it's a bit of his own making, but it's also not. Orders were orders, after all.
Footsteps, soft but enough to be heard, and he knows that's deliberate. No shinobi worth their headband would make noise unless they wanted to. Deidara only raises his head enough that his open eye can peer out from the mass of his hair.
@desertgourd
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Wild desert gourd growing on the RA desert ranch. The only thing you can eat is the seeds. I haven’t tried it yet but it’s supposed to taste like pumpkin seeds when you bake them. I will probably spread these seeds over the property and make a rattle or cup from the dried gourd.
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@desertgourd asked :: ❛ well done. ❜
Her gaze was dull when she finally looked up, arms wrapped around bent knees in an automatic defensive move. "Not the one you should be saying that too." The words were toneless as she returned to watching the barely healing wounds on her hands.
#desertgourd#~/ i wander the skies on wings of silver \~ :: ami#*|* to heal & defend *|* :: secrets of a firesword#*|* when the winds of change stir once more *|* :: naruto shippuden#*|* grains of sand are always in motion *|* :: sunagakure
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Response to @desertgourd | original ask: here ::
Peaceful wasn't usually a word associated with a demon but the dragon had always been different. It took a lot to get him riled as he had no interest in hurting anyone, especially his host. But no one was completely immune from losing their temper and neither dragon or jinchūriki wanted to destroy the Sand village.
Although not as close to the redhead as she was to Temari and Kankuro, Ami could still see each sign easily. A flicker of pain shot across her features as burns started forming on her arms, the result of her fight for control. But she would prefer to get burned, instead of the other more catastrophic result.
"Beyond the walls. I will not put your people at risk, not matter what the cost is to myself."
#desertgourd#~/ i wander the skies on wings of silver \~ :: ami#naruto shippuden#*|* to heal & defend *|* :: secrets of a firesword#*|* do not make me choose between sand & leaf / it won't end well *|* :: naruto verse#*|* grains of sand are always in motion *|* :: sunagakure
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@desertgourd asked : "You of all people shouldn't have an opinion on /me/ fighting in school." Frankly, Gaara considers it entirely her fault he was given detention at all.
The school did have a zero tolerance policy on school violence but to punish all parties was a bit much in her opinion. Asuka tapped her nail against her pen, ink gathering on a single point on her notepad. Blank homework sheets, doodles on the desk and the sounds of the after-school sports clubs having fun while she spent her evening trapped in a room with no phone. Time passes slowly in the cruel confinement of detention.
At least she wasn't alone.
It ain't good t' fight all the time.
He was right, she had absolutely no right to judge him for fighting in school. Not when her hobby included knocking heads together on her way home. This was... Far from the first time she'd gotten in trouble for this kind of behaviour. Surely, her dad and aunt had some choice words for her. Maybe... maybe her uncle would bail her out a little.
... Nah.
"Kids like you shouldn't be fightin' people like tha'..." she sighs, her eyes followed a bird soaring onto a nearby tree branch. Idly rocking her chair back and forth while the teacher took care of business outside of their prison. "A simple 'thanks' would be nice, though."
Damn, that bird sure is far away...
↳ unprompted asks :: accepting !
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Fear (for Naruto)
Emotion Starters
@desertgourd
Fear: Our muses watch a scary movie - one is horrified, the other isn’t!
He's fine! Totally fine! It's not real right? It's just a movie; a scary movie, no big deal! He was perfectly fin-
SLASH!
"AWAAAAH!"
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@desertgourd
That explains the sand in his nose...
#desertgourd#reply#[[ironically i could not see my notes at the top until i opted out of the boop lksjdlfkjlkj]]
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@desertgourd said: ❛ you never stop, do you? ❜
of-fucking-course not. because. .. . well. where was the fun in that? but voicing the thought, let alone trudging his way through the mindboggling inane explanation? so horribly boring. so, in its stead. . .
“ if you’re gonna start preaching zen to me, you better believe it’s wasted time. already went through that attempted indoctrination with other sorry bastards, who, frankly speaking, were better at it than. . .. you. ” disdain laced with lighthearted amusement lingers on his tongue in the aftermath of that last syllable. weighs it down. then pops it off with a click of his tongue and a grin ( a little sharp around the edges ), that he flings the other’s way. carelessly. or with a little too much meaning. who is to say, to clarify? Hidan certainly won’t, as his smirk vanishes behind the rim of the glass from which he takes a swig. it travels down his throat like ice-cold water on a sunny day.
he settles the it down and gives it a push, but instead of watching it slide across the counter in the other’s direction ( instead of following it to see if his open invitation reaches its mark ), his magenta gaze remains, unblinking, on him. a single finger takes a stab in his direction, almost ( yet-not-quite ) accusatory.
“ though it’s pretty funny. you always struck me as the high-strung, holier-than-thou type. hidden depths, huh, Red? ”
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@desertgourd "What are you doing here?"
Iruka smiled and offered the boy a little wave from the doorway. "You weren't in class today. I wanted to bring the worksheets today and your brother left the school too quick for me to give them to you."
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"You have blood on your hands."
The words do little to the inner walls sheltering what compassion is left in his heart. He’s always had blood on his hands—since childhood he has been responsible for the demise of many, including his own team, and he would be the bringer of death to many more.
It was the life of a Shinobi. The only life he knew.
Sometimes he could still see the stain of red on his palms and he would scrub well until the flesh was made raw. The suffering hadn’t been lessened in any capacity since leaving Konoha (or driven out, rather) but he’d since made peace with this path he had taken.
“Plenty of it.” Kakashi confirms as a calm statement of fact. “We all do.”
#desertgourd#I promise to respond to our thread soon I’m just dumb and need to come up with a proper not dumb plan for capturing the naughty person adag#[pt 1/2] traitorous guardian
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[ @desertgourd ] 𝙱𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙸𝚁 𝙳𝙴𝙰𝙳 > "Kimimaro … I'm sorry our first meeting ended the way it did." <
What a surprise it was to know the man that had killed him became the Kazekage. It was somehow shocking, somehow very surprising and yet Kimimaro held no grudges, even in death his devotion for Orochimaru had remained strong. So strong it had allowed him to be revived, and to live by his lord for the rest of existence. Dying by Gaara's hand had been a necessary step to this, and thus, in someway, Kimimaro was thankful.
❛ There is no need for apologies, Kazekage-sama, ❜ he responded, respect and formality in his gentle but hollowed tone. They were no longer in the same hierarchy, Gaara above him by status now. ❛ I do not resent you, and I hope my death has not weighted heavily on you. ❜ Despite not being close to the red-haired man, Kimimaro did not wish to cause him needless distress. Especially not when they had been invited to Suna and welcomed so well.
❛ Thank you for welcoming Orochimaru-sama and I so well, ❜ political meetings after the war were happening much more often, and Orochimaru hardly ever left Kimimaro behind. ❛ While we are here, I am too at your service should you need it. ❜ he hoped to be of use, unaccustomed to being idle.
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