scalely babies

The Witch’s House Rules
  1. Put your spirits in a bottle or leave them at the front door.
  2. Do not perform any magic without hosts permission.
  3. No negative energy. Only laughter and singing.
  4. Don’t touch the tools or crystals. Appreciate with eyes only.
  5. Respect the fur/feathered/scaled babies of the house!

Originally posted by xesoteric-extraterrestrialx

anonymous asked:

Uhm... I-I have a plot bunny for you. Kakashi and Obito where Obito is a water creature of some sort, like a selkie or a siren, and he meets Kakashi when they're both really young. Kakashi has a new best friend, but Sakumo (who knows all about fairies and their tricks, after the naga prince Orochimaru disappeared and broke his heart) is concerned. So, he asks to meet Obito, and is surprised that instead of a tricky fae he's just been tackled into the sand by a hyper child of the sea.

I TOTALLY MEANT THIS TO BE LIKE 600 WORDS WTF. OOPS??


Sakumo is just a little worried, that’s all.

He stands on the porch overlooking the crooked path down to the sea, twisting the chain of the pendant he normally wears around his fingers. It’s a bad habit, and he always thinks he might be loosening the setting, twisting the metal out of shape. Thinks of one day reaching down to touch it and finding the ruby gone, lost forever along the paths he walks. His heart clenches just imagining it, this last gift gone and never to return, just like the sly, beautiful, cunning prince who once pressed it into his hands.

That’s the reason he’s fretting over Kakashi, really. He’s seen the signs—bits of coral, sea glass from far shores, shells that can only be found in the deepest places, pearls larger and brighter than any that land-dwellers can reach without dying in the process. He’s found bits of seaweed in Kakashi’s hair, swept the sand from his room in the mornings when he knows it had been clean the night before. Watched the way he eyes the ocean as it breaks, with something very much like longing.

Sakumo’s sword rests on the chair behind him, cleaned and polished to a mirror shine. He hasn’t carried it with any regularity since Kakashi was born, but he keeps it in repair. There are too many dangers not to, and sometimes he can earn a few coins guarding a traveler on their way. It’s not something he wants to use now, in any way, but if Kakashi’s safety is on the line, he won’t allow himself to do anything less.

He thinks of Orochimaru, of waking one morning to an empty bed and an empty home. It’s impossible to regret any choices that gave him Kakashi, no matter how he still mourns both his wife, a dear friend if nothing else, and the naga prince who stole his heart, but—

But he wants to save Kakashi the grief that he’s felt all these years, of adoring a fey creature with a mind half-full of magic and too many dreams that leave no room for more human kinds of love.

Kakashi is stubborn, smart. He won’t listen to Sakumo, not at first, but Sakumo has to try.

He hears footsteps in the dirt of the path and drags his eyes up from the ruby in his fist. Kakashi a coming, steps light, a smile on his face and a string of fish dangling over one shoulder. They’re not fish that swim anywhere near these shores, but Sakumo smiles regardless, waves to his son, and allows himself to enjoy the way Kakashi lights up a little when he sees him.

“Kakashi,” he says warmly, leaning down to offer a hand up onto the porch, since Kakashi rarely deigns to approach from the front and use the stairs. “Did you have a good day?”

“It was decent,” Kakashi says decisively. There’s a flower tucked behind his ear, one the grows near the mouth of the river that empties into the sea. It’s a fair distance from the house, and worry twinges at Sakumo’s chest again. Too far for him to hear a call for help, should it come.

When he manages to wrestle the feeling under control, Kakashi is watching, dark eyes faintly narrowed. “Are you okay, Dad?” he asks, tipping his head. “You look like a constipated frog.”

There’s nothing in the world better for the ego, Sakumo thinks wryly, than having children. “I’m fine, cub. Just—wondering if you’ll ever introduce my to your new friend.”

Kakashi blinks, but doesn’t bother asking how he knows. For a brief second, he glances down at the ruby pendant Sakumo is holding, then away, and says with perfect disinterest, “If I’d known you wanted to meet an idiot like him, I would have introduced you weeks ago.”

An idiot? Sakumo raises a brow, but doesn’t try to argue; this is already more of a concession than he expected, honestly. “Well, maybe I was waiting for you to bring him up,” he says mildly, tries to inject it with the crushing parental disapproval via sigh that his own mother always used to devastating effect, and apparently doesn’t do too badly given the way Kakashi winces.

“It wasn’t a secret,” his son tells him witheringly. “And besides, I don’t have to tell you everything.”

Sometimes, Sakumo is absolutely, entirely certain that he won’t survive Kakashi’s teenage years. If he’s already like this at seven, there’s no hope left at all.

“No,” he agrees, and keeps his tone light. “Of course you don’t. But I like knowing about what makes you happy, Kakashi.”

There’s a long pause as Kakashi stares at him, evaluating his sincerity. Then he nods once, decisively, and says, “He should still be near the beach, because he’s a loser who never gets anywhere on time. You can meet him now.” He hurries inside, leaving the door swinging, to lay the fish on the counter, and Sakumo takes the opportunity to belt his sword around his waist and clasp his pendant back around his neck. Kakashi will notice it—Kakashi notices everything, much to his chagrin—but he probably won’t say anything.

Then the rapid footsteps are back, and Kakashi takes a flying leap off the porch to land in the sun-gold grass. “Come on, Dad,” he says impatiently, looking like he’s going to dart back and start tugging at Sakumo’s belt the way he did when he was younger. “Before he leaves!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Sakumo protests, stepping down and following Kakashi’s path as he hurries back down the hill. Ignoring the track, Kakashi takes the shortcut across the stream, then down the steepest part of the incline, and hits the dune well ahead of Sakumo, who isn’t quite reduced to running just yet. He watches his son disappear around the edges of the dune, and when he rounds it Kakashi is already halfway to the water, though he’s finally walking again.

“Idiot!” Kakashi calls, pitched to annoy, impatient as anything, and Sakumo strangles a groan. The very least Kakashi could do not to get killed by a magical creature would be refraining from insulting it, so of course throwing around insults is the very first thing Kakashi does. It’s probably how he introduced himself, knowing him.

“I’m not an idiot, you jerk!” a voice shouts back. Young, Sakumo thinks with some surprise as he scans the water. There’s a flash of iridescent scales among the waves, and the next time one breaks it leaves a shape behind. A long, looping tail, dark blue with a sheen of orange-gold scattered throughout, flared, feathery fins streaked with the same colors, pale skin, dark hair chopped short. A siren boy, just pulling himself up on the sand, and the soldier in Sakumo is assessing, calculating, weighing the risk of a child who clearly hasn’t even managed to change forms yet.

The rest of Sakumo wonders what a siren boy, so young and without mastery of his own power, is doing alone on the surface, far, far away from any siren chorales.

Then he turns, pushing himself up to sit as he twists to face Kakashi, and Sakumo’s eyes track over the deep scars all up and down his right side. Cold certainty sets into his bones, and he releases the hilt of his sword as if it’s burned him. Sirens are vain to a fault, and scarred chorale members are usually driven out.

Gods, but how long has this boy been alone, cast out and thinking himself unwanted?

Kakashi and the siren are still bickering when Sakumo makes his way over to them, and it sounds angry and cutting and irritated, but Sakumo knows his son better than that. Kakashi looks fond, and even if Sakumo doesn’t know the other boy, he’s fairly sure that light in his eyes is the very furthest thing from hate.

“—wouldn’t have bothered,” Kakashi is just huffing when Sakumo nears. “But my dad wanted to meet you, and he’s the only reason I—”

“Your dad?” the siren interrupts, and his dark eyes are wide with excitement, clearly not taking any of Kakashi’s bluster to heart. “He wanted to meet me?”

“Of course I did,” Sakumo says lightly, and smiles as both boys jerk around to look at him.

“So slow,” Kakashi complains, crossing his arms over his chest. “Dad this is Obito. He’s an idiot, so don’t listen to anything he says.”

Sakumo rolls his eyes, just a little, but crouches down so that Obito won’t have to crane his neck looking up at him. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says warmly, watching those black eyes widen, and gods, the boy is adorable. Especially for a flesh-eating, sailor-drowning monster of the depths, but, well. No one’s perfect, and if Obito hasn’t drowned Kakashi yet the world at large is probably safe. On instinct, he reaches out, ruffling wet hair a little, and offers, “Would you like me to carry you up the hill so you can eat dinner with us? Those fish—you must be the one who caught them, right?”

Without warning, Sakumo’s arms are suddenly full of wet skin and slick scales as a baby siren wraps his arms around his neck and hugs him tightly. Sakumo overbalances, too startled to make a sound, but Obito doesn’t let go; if anything he clings tighter, and says in a tone that’s close to desperate, “Thank you! Yes! Yes, I really, really want to!”

Sakumo chuckles, picking himself up out of the sand. “Of course. The least I could do for someone who caught us such a fine dinner,” he says lightly. He gets an arm around Obito’s back, the other underneath the glittering tail, and hefts him up.

The fin still curls on the ground, and he hesitates, not wanting to drag it through the prickly grass, but before he can say anything Kakashi heaves a disgusted sigh and stalks over, hefting the feathery end up in his arms. “Can we just get this over with?” he demands, though Sakumo can see his cheeks are a little flushed.

“Bakashi,” Obito complains, flicking his tail slightly, and Kakashi makes a deeply offended noise as it slaps him in the face.

Sakumo hides a grin. That’s certainly not how he and Orochimaru interacted. And…maybe it’s selfish of him, but he’s a little glad Obito doesn’t have a chorale to go back to, that he’s alone. Maybe he won’t disappear on Kakashi just when he thinks their happiness is assured.

Before he can ask how in the world they met, small fingers are at his throat, touching the ruby there lightly. There’s a soft sound of wonder, and Obito looks up at him, expression startled. “This is the same necklace the trapped prince is wearing,” he says. “How does a human have it?”

Sakumo would swear his heart entirely stops beating.

Trapped?” he croaks when he can finally manage to draw even a partial breath again.

Obito tips his head, like the question confuses him. “Yeah. He’s been sleeping at the bottom of the forest river since before I was born. My selkie friend says her mom told her there was a battle with the sea witch Danzō, and an earth goddess and holy monk helped the prince but even though they defeated Danzō he trapped them in the forest.”

Nine years. Nine years Orochimaru has been trapped and sleeping and waiting to be rescued, so close at hand, but—Sakumo hadn’t known.

He looks towards the forest, a dark shadow on the horizon, and takes a breath.

Well. It looks like his sword is going to see a bit of use after all.