I Did This Instead Of Studying - Blog Posts

Did I just spend the past half hour learning how to use git?

Yes.

Do I know anything about coding?

Absolutely not.

Why did I do it?

I don't have a *fucking* clue.

Do I understand the basics.

Yes.

Will I use this knowledge and do something with it?

Probably not.

What's keeping you?

I don't even know what I was going for here but have another practice piece. Movie sonadow ver except there's no conversation this time ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

Sasori: Did it hurt when you fell?

Deidara: From where? Heaven? Or in love?

Sasori: Brat, as much as I’d love to save your ego, you just faceplanted down a flight of stairs.

Just a little comics about Sasori being worried and Deidara being Deidara. I kinda messed the order up, but there are numbers in the corners so here we go

::::::Fyolai::::::::::::::

Please forgive me, this is my first time posting a fanfic on tumblr! This does contain major character death, slight spoilers, Mentions of injuries and blood, hurt no comfort (?), and very poor Russian (I’m trying to learn I’m sorry…)!

::::::::Enjoy!:::::::::::::

“Nikolai, you’re hovering…” Fyodor whispered. Careful breaths despite the pain he was supposedly in. Avoiding the gaze of Nikolai’s panic. As the lithe and thin Ukrainian boy moved the rocks and rubble from around the bleeding Russian. Dazai and Chūya long gone now, under the impression that Fyodor was dead, it could’ve been a fast and simple way to run away. To run away, never step foot in Yokohama again, to leave the prison, to use their newfound advantage and curse the bastardly moon for abandoning them and the sun for daringly peaking over the water and shining right in the heterochromic eyes of Nikolai. As soon as the whole incident happened, Nikolai felt his air leave his body, his heart solemn with abandoning his chest and shattering on the floor, Fyodor was never one to share a plan but as the helicopter came crashing down… no. It was as the pole went through Fyodor’s stomach and the blood gushed from his mouth like a geyser. The crimson color leaking over his pale lips and dripping on to his white prison clothing, staining the innocent color with contentment. That Nikolai wished he’d asked more questions before blindly trusting. “Koyla… I’m alright…дорого́й… Я пообеща́л.” Fyodor said in his usual distant tone. His mother tongue slipped through the air, reaching Nikolai as both warm and dead. “Fedya… no Fedya you’re not… Fedya you’re… I can fix this. Плева́ть Dazai! Плева́ть the world!” Nikolai said in an ever growing frustrated tone. Ready to scorch the earth and leave nothing behind to tell the story of why. Nikolai was fully aware the Russian boy was more than capable of handling most things himself. Hell, Fyodor had built two different organizations from the ground up, he controlled every little aspect of his life and dealt with Nikolai and the trials of his actions. But this wasn’t something that Fyodor would be able to just shrug off and deal with when he was stronger. “Koyla. It’s not your fault.” Despite the attempts of the sun, the air remained cold and fragmenting to Nikolai. As the air continued to constrict and settle into Nikolai’s throat, he held Fyodor’s hand to his chest, the sound echoed. “It will never be your fault Koyla.” Fyodor’s voice rang in Nikolai’s head, ringing and ringing till silence. The hollow of the wind, it all froze and it felt like time stood still and Nikolai was pushing against the very resistance of the air as he stood up. There in his hand was Fyodor’s hand. But there was no body attached. Fyodor was gone, and no amount of sitting with his corpse was going to bring him back. No amount of sitting with his corpse, clinging to his arm like a lifeline and his last hope on the sea of despair… was going to bring Fyodor back. It was just the way life was, this was supposed to be his goal right? Like what Dazai said, this was what Nikolai’s goal was no? To rid himself of his human emotions, or restrictions as he once thought of them, and be as free as the birds outside his window as a child and now in his adult life. But now that it had happened, he was less sure of the things he wanted, and desperately wanted back what he’d once needed. For even a moment, he wanted to rush the questions and run the conversations, all the things he wanted to say… he wanted to sit down and have the time back. Now all that was left of Fyodor, was the Russian boy with a plan bigger than himself and a dream that left an impact on Nikolai’s mind. Nikolai had hundreds of things he wanted to do and say, but to whom would he say them too? Who would watch his antics? Who would listen and be able to actually understand him? So many years of hiding behind his words, the once intrusive ability that Fyodor seemed to have, Nikolai missed having someone be able to read in between the lines and see his true feelings.

Fyodor would know how to handle this. Nikolai thought, as the once small streets of Yokohama seemed to triple in size and swallow him whole. He’d made it to Yokohama somehow. Maybe it was luck, being in a city that was once familiar to him, or maybe it was simply all he could do. Whether he admitted it or not, Fyodor was the logical and cunning one of the two, truly the guiding star. And now, for better or for worse, that compass was gone and it left Nikolai wondering how he was going to enjoy his new ”Freedom”. In his head he was under the constant battle of, “I wanted to be free” or “Was it better to be in my ’birdcage’?” He didn’t exactly know anymore. Nothing seemed to truly matter now that he’d up and aided in the murder of his friend, of his everything. It seemed a little more blank, the world, without the grim colored glass that Fyodor saw the world with due to “Gifted” individuals and for once the iron colored glasses that Nikolai saw the caged world as didn’t seem to fit his eyes quite right. Nothing about Yokohama seemed out of the ordinary, but it seemed so bland it was unsettling. A smile with too many teeth, a baby with 2 diapers and not one, shoes on the wrong feet. Nothing that could outright get your attention, as you might converse with a man with too many teeth for a long time before realizing that he had 42 teeth and not the average 32 teeth. You would not notice at first as did hold an infant the amount of diapers it has on, since at least it has a diaper on. And even you, yourself, might be tired and not think as you’d tie your shoes, only to later realize that you’ve stumbled about your work or office in shoes on the wrong feet. None of these things were horrible, but once you’ve seen something unusual it is hard to unsee it. Nothing seemed the same now. Nothing seemed to be colored right. Nothing seemed to be sounding right. Nothing seemed to be right.

As he sauntered into the stores, for once he didn’t feel the urge to shop lift, and as he walked the streets… he felt so desolate in his own presence that he couldn’t understand how those around him could manage to share a sideway with him. This was his life now. He’d have to accept his conditions. This was all he will know… there’s no Fyodor to save him now…