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This is without doubt the funniest thing to ever exist.

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to those gods I will speak bluntly

for ShikaSaku Week Hanami 2023 @shikasaku-week

Day 1: (don't) hug me, stay away (come closer) Non-Sexual Intimacy/Touch-Starved Character(s)

read on AO3

notes: quotes from Inkpot Gods and Not Yet/Love Run (reprise) by The Amazing Devil

_________________

I made a vow out to the dark

Please let her live just one more day

'Cause she is so much more than all her scars

There is a moment of stillness, a rare pause in the violence and the fighting. Greedily, they grab onto it and refuse to let go, teeth sunk into the flesh of this instant in time, this peace well-fought for. This strange stopping of the clock in the middle of the day, sun high in the sky; strange mostly because, if asked, they'd have thought this sort of pause would only come in the darkest hour of night or the earliest ray of sunlight. Something romantic like dusk or dawn, a moment deserving of the poetry of nature. Shows what they knew of war, before this all started.

No, this is not a romantic time, a moment of stillness when they most need it, as if a reward given for their continued fighting, their relentless drive. It comes right after noon, the sun at its zenith, harsh and almost white in its blinding light, right after noon when he should be meeting with the council, under the harsh white light of the sun when she should be in the medic tents triaging who deserves to be healed and who isn't worth the effort.

This, they should be doing. But for a brief instant, the beating heart of war quiets, the screams echo and end instead of coming directly from the mouth of the dying. For a brief moment, the world stills, and they're greedy, the both of them.

(they're not, gods they've never been greedy a single day in their life, they've sacrificed everything they have and everything they are for a country that despises their continued existence, their perpetual demand for it to be better, they've never known greed because they were never given the opportunity to fully realise how little they've been allowed to live, how small they've been made to feel, to be)

(they've never been greedy a fucking day in their life, but even if they had been—)

From opposite ends of the camp, they've been staring at each other, since the moment the sounds of fighting stopped. Shikamaru is supposed to turn around, enter the tent, plan the next assault for the third time this week alone, deciding which of his friends he'll send to their death today. Sakura is supposed to round her own tent to the large tarp draped in-between Fire trees where a dozen injured will be brought very soon, so she can decide which of her friends she's let die today.

But, you see, there is a moment of stillness, a rare pause in the violence and the fighting.

Without exchanging a single word, they disappear in a whirlwind of leaves.

(they're not greedy, neither assholes nor morons, so they only shunshin to the edge of the forest; where the cover of shadows will give them the illusion of peace, where Shikamaru might even catch a glimpse of his clan's deer for the first time in weeks)

Silently, they sit on one of the larger branches of an ash tree, far from the ground, where the leaves and the other trees will hide theme easily enough.

Like a string cut, a bell rung, the tension leaves their bodies in a snap. They slouch, her against the trunk, him against the offshoot of another branch. They're facing each other, one knee up or one leg crossed, hands on the bark or the leaves, eyes never leaving the other's face.

“And what you hear is not silence, it's just the trees waiting to hear what next you'll hum.” Her words are quiet, almost inaudible between the birds and the wind in the leaves. His breath catches in his lungs. He listens.

“And what you see is not the dark, it’s just the gods upturning inkpots 'cause they know what you'll become.” He doesn't recognise the poem; he's never been much into poetry. But he knows she grabbed a single book out of the ruins of her flat, the first thing she could see. It's been keeping her company ever since, as she read and re-read it every single evening, around the fire or in the shared tents where they all rotate to guard their only surviving medic. He hasn't read the book, but she's been quoting pieces of it to him when they've found some time together, and even when they haven't. Sometimes he finds strips of paper in the pockets of his flack jacket, on the folded blanket he uses as a pillow. He cherishes them, these pieces of the last piece of her home. He knows what they cost, what they're worth now.

“And to those gods I will speak bluntly, we've an accord. If you ever touch or harm him, please rest assured that you might not fear a man, but to a woman by the end you'll kneel and plead.”

He swallows, incapable of blinking when faced with everything this woman is, everything she means to him.

He answers the only way he knows how: half-truth and bitter honesty, the knowledge of knowing too much, the burden of age that aged too fast, his wisdom and years heavy on shoulders so young, so dumb.

“Love, run. Love, run, for all the things we wished we’d done. Run until your lungs are numb.”

She crying, soft and quiet, hot tears on the grime of her face, still leaning against the tree holding them both up. Her eyes are the same colour as the leaves around them, pierced by the rays of the afternoon sky. He sees their years, their weariness, their memories, all written on the streaks left behind on her dirty cheeks.

“I think I've been missing you for a long time,” she sobs, gasping on air and empty, broken promises made by the broken, empty boys of her childhood.

On his knees, he reaches for her, crawling on the branch with chakra helping him stick to it. His hand wraps around hers for a second before she brings it to her blackened, wet cheek. His hand looks huge next to her face, his tanned skin contrasting with her paleness, the darkness under her eyes.

He can't believe they're here. He can't believe these weeks of war and fighting, of sticking to each other's side, of deciding against everything and everyone that they were going to make a choice for themselves, just for once.

He whispers, “Sakura...” and she swallows, hard.

“Yes,” she croaks. “Yes, always.”

It's his turn to choke on tears, incapable of looking away. “I love you. I love you, I love you.”

“I love you,” she's saying over him, with him, voices mingling grime and tears together.

He falls more than he leans into her open arms, legs on either side of him, and she embraces him completely.

He can't believe this.

He can hear her heart, beating. Her lips against his temple, her fingers running through his dirty hair.

As usual, she hears him when he's not speaking a single word. “It's worth it. We're worth it, we deserve it. It's worth fighting for this, Shikamaru.” She puts some space between them, just enough that she can look him in the eyes. “I want to be with you. We deserve this, you and I.”

Gods, they do. So much. How could he ever doubt that?

“I love you,” he breathes against her neck. “I love you, I lov—”

The ground shakes so hard it dislodges them from the tree and they fall to the ground. Reflexes faster than the speed of sound help them react and they've twisted in the air before their brain even catches up with gravity. They fall stable on their feet, the wave of residual heat from the explosion almost knocking them backward.

The moment of stillness is gone, the pause in the violence is broken. But there is steel in their spine now, a glint in their eye. She'd call it spite, but that's because she's Haruno-fucking-Sakura. When he was thirteen, he learned the value of raw emotions; it's alright, he thinks, looking at her. He can call it hope for them both, until she can believe it too.

Run from all you know that’s coming

Run to show that love’s worth running to

#shikasaku #shikasakuweek #shikasakuweekhanami2023 #shikasaku-week #shikamaru nara #sakura haruno #naruto fanfiction #naruto #my writing #shikasakuweek hanami 2023 #naruto events #fic

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is that a ds in your pocket or is your penis have 2 screens & play video games

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What have unions ever done for you

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When people talk about "nepotism babies" I feel like the conversation always gets centered around a really obvious and direct kind of privilege,

people tend to get really focused on the idea of the famous parent calling people on their child's behalf or just the last name opening doors and getting the child booked regardless of talent

and then the child of those people deny that ever happened for them, and round and round we go

but you know what, I don't actually think that happens as much as we think (though I definitely think it happens more than those kids want to admit)

I think the reality is much subtler than that, and is the bigger leg up:

if you grow up with famous parents, you get to witness what being successful in the industry looks like first hand, and you already have a guidepost for navigating that in ways it takes non-famous kids years or even decades into the industry to learn

in the same way that if you grow up with parents with white collar jobs, you have a massive leg up in understanding office norms and behavior over kids who don't have that experience

we all learn so much about the world through our families, and when your family is deeply involved in an industry you get so much foundational knowledge that someone starting the industry at 20 still has to learn

Imagine you want to be an actor, and your mom is an actor already. Here are examples of things I imagine you could pick up, merely by being her child: her process, how she hones her craft, acting techniques she likes and doesn't like, running lines with her, seeing her audition, how she negotiates, what an agent does and how your mom deals with hers, different positions/jobs on set or elsewhere in the industry, comfort with being on a set, knowledge about appropriate set behavior, what publicity tours require from her, her ups and her downs and what she does when parts aren't turning up for her, etc etc. Not even getting into just the straight up wealth privilege that comes with that level of success, nor to mention that if your mom is a wealthy actress you're much more likely to be attending a school with an actual functioning arts program...

Imagine how much more time you'd have to devote to your craft when you already are familiar and comfortable with the industry, when you have financial security, when your family "gets" and supports the idea of making a living through the arts, when you already know what an agent is and how to find one and what kind of deal with one is fair vs. predatory, and more. People sometimes will talk about nepotism babies being actually good like they're shocked but to me I'm like, "Well duh, I think if you took most kids and gave them that kind of comfort, safety, and support + their own drive to succeed, yeah you get a lot of kids who have the time and space and expertise to become good at their art, yes"

anyways, I just think if we want to actually talk about nepotism it's hurting us to keep it at the "well did your mom buy you that audition?" level because that's the easiest thing to deny and brush off. and we gotta stop being surprised when nepotism babies are good, because if that's surprising us we're missing seeing clearly exactly what's been handed to them.

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being a fic writer can be hard because sometimes you’ll get a random scene in your head and be like “oh this is neat! can i get some context?” and the characters go “lol no, figure it out” and so you need to shake your own brain like it’s a piggy bank like come on, there’s gotta be some more quarters in here . . .

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A male pufferfish tries to impress potential mates with his masterpiece. ✨

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omg no way! you bruise super easily? that’s so cool! hey can i try something really quick? 0:-)

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Amen to that little dude

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「 collected yellow 」

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blah blah aging tumblr population etc etc if you are ever visiting a family that just had a baby, and you know that they have other small children, bring a little toy for each of the other kids. it doesn’t have to be anything fancy, but even the most charitable, well-behaved child starts feeling left out after the nth visitor brings gifts and attention for their parents and baby sibling and isn’t there for them at all, especially since their parents have probably been completely consumed with the new baby. make their day and they will remember that bit of kindness and attention from you forever.

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“I will teach my children that sadness is a garden, part of the house, the home we are building. We go there and sit down, first together, have talks. On some days we will eat there, take afternoon naps there, but we do not solely live or sleep in our garden. We sleep in our beds, still, the garden is there and if we tend to it, plant seeds, grow fruit and vegetables, we can live from our garden and grow big and strong from it. I will never tell my children not to be sad, or stop crying. Instead, I will teach them to go into the garden and tend to it, and there’s a big chance the sun will be there, too.”

— r.iver excerpt from ‘a different kind of monster’

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so there’s this trans wizard and no one can remember the wizards pronouns and we’re all to scared to ask cuz the wizard has a pretty short temper and the wizard might curse us or penis blast us if we ask the wizard for the wizards pronouns or mess up the wizards pronouns so we all just call the wizard ‘the wizard’ in place of pronouns

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growing up by the coast means that instead of crows on your roof you get seagulls and it honestly feels much more threatening

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A lil date 🍅🍥

#naruto #sasuke

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btw as someone who travels with mobility aid, let this be a PSA for a couple other things:

-in an accident, things that are light can become incredibly heavy and cause massive damage that seems disproportionate to their "normal" weight. That's because of inertia. For ex, tucking your phone between your chest and your seatbelt can kill you -> the phone will become incredibly heavy and can crush your sternum, or the seatbelt will have so much force it will shatter the phone and the pieces can embed themselves in you. Something on the dashboard like a wooden decoration or any object above a book's weight can be thrown at you and cause you massive injuries depending on the speed of the car and the weight of the object. Put your stuff at the bottom of the car!!

-never, EVER, put your feet on the dashboard in front of you as a passenger. If you're in an accident at a speed above city limit (so highway generally), the car goes so fast it'll propulse you forward and your legs backward and it can literally rip your legs from your body at the hip joint. I saw a simulation with a mannequin when I was in a special safety class in college, the mannequin's legs were thrown over its own shoulders and there was just a torso left

-the head rest isn't for aesthetic purposes. If it's not adjusted properly to your height and where your head it, it can't do it's job. My mom was in an accident and the only thing that saved her life was the head rest. The shock was so bad that had it been just a centimetre lower, her head would have been thrown backward and the sheer force of the impact would have broken her neck. She still had to wear a neck brace for a month with the head rest to save her. This is no joke

-do not, I repeat, DO NOT ever put a baby's seat or a pet's transport box on the front seat, and under no circumstance do you ever attach a baby's seat facing forward. Or if you do that, you NEED to deactivate the airbags, which can be an issue in itself and you need to check with your insurance because with some, if you deactivate the airbag without telling them and you get into an accident, they can refuse to pay because of it. DO NOT EVER put a baby or a pet in the front seat with the airbag, the airbag could grievously injure them or even kill them. Even if you put the baby/pet in the back seat so you don't disable the airbag, don't put them facing the road. Their back should be facing the road, not the front

drive safe people!

You guys know how to travel in a car with your canes, right? You know where to put them so they don’t kill you in an accident? You’re not just holding them on your lap?