window seat!

naruto characters and planes because im writing this while im on a plane and very bored
  • naruto: fucking LOVES planes. he's so amped about the fact that he's in the fucking SKY, DUDE!!!!! orders a bunch of food because he heard 'complimentary' and thought that applied to everything. is a fool. in airports he keeps running down those conveyor belts like he's 5. he's like, 19
  • sasuke: would never talk about it but is real deep and moody about airplanes and that kind of extensive travel. he feels really freed by the transience of it all. he also wishes he had paid that extra ten dollars for a comfy bigger seat. somehow always gets the window seat, tho, and he doesnt actually care much about it but he refuses to switch with naruto.
  • sakura: the most prepared traveler. she has her carry-on packed with everything she could possibly need. everything charged and perfectly accessible. she's so well prepared bc on the off chance she isn't and something goes wrong in the airport you can catch her crying at the closest starbucks
  • gaara: loves to travel but thinks airplanes and airports are way too stressful and tedious and also he's dissociating like the whole time. wishes TSA could somehow do their job without acknowledging that he has a body and wears shoes
  • ino: honestly treats the airport like a fucking mall. she doesnt buy much but she goes through every single store and windowshops while comparing online with items so she doesnt spend 400x the online price. she DID spend the extra $10 for a comfy seat tho and sasuke is very jealous. she has a nightmask even tho this is a 2 hr flight, even if she spends most of the flight playing games on her phone
  • lee: jogs up and down the conveyor belts but like. the ones going the wrong way. its extra work out, or so he says. also is the guy who sits next to you on the plane and tries to make conversation with you and he's really nice but you wish he'd be quiet
  • neji: insists he's flown many times and is fine, but he's whiteknucklin the armrests the whole way. only manages to not puke from sheer force of will bc he'd rather die than walk in the aisles while the plane's moving
  • kakashi: also has a night mask like ino but he's asleep within like 30 seconds of boarding. when him and gai fly together he uses him as a headrest and its adorable. when he's with someone else he sleeps sitting perfectly straight up and its a little creepy
  • madara: grumpy grandpa. fights with TSA, will Not take off his shoes, thank you. also showed up way late for check-in. why didnt they just do a road trip
  • hashirama: happy grandpa who thinks planes are fun. buys a ridiculous amount of tourist shit, mostly keychains bc he thinks theyre cute. resolves every fight that madara starts, somehow

If Ben & Sophie did a car commercial together, pt 2 (pt 1)


Spectacular out the window view of the Alps

Fic: The Window Seat

Apparently I am being assailed by plot bunnies. This one hit me as I attempted to sleep last night.

Its just a short one though.


A cloud passed over the sun

He watched her. His wife, his Sassenach. Claire. She sat where she sat every morning, in the window seat of the kitchen. She loved that spot. She stretched herself like a cat in the sunlight and the comparison made him smile. She reminded him of a cat sometimes. At once languorous but with an air of suppressed ferocity. He’d seen her lose her temper.

It was a warm morning. The sun shone into the kitchen and a breeze danced through the room. It lifted her hair slightly and she raised her face towards it, eyes closed. He had known her for a decade. Lived with her, seen her everyday, but even so he could not help but to admire her. The strong line of her jaw, the paleness of her skin, so rich and creamy, that cloud of dark hair that he thought was brown but reflected light in a way that it shone red and gold and silver. He knew what her hair would smell like. It would smell of citrus, a soft tang. It would be soft and wild under his touch. His eyes closed as he remembered the feel of her hair on his body as they made love, the tickle of the curls against his face as they kissed, the softness of it in his hands as he held her close to him.

Sorcha. It was a wholly apt name. Not only Claire in the Gaelic, but light. With the sun shining in behind her she seemed illuminated. Like the angels he would see in the churches of his childhood. Earthly but not. Familiar, but hinting of something more, a promise as yet unrevealed.


His eyes shut briefly as a tear escaped. He opened them. The window seat sat empty. The breeze ruffled the service booklets on the counter. He felt his brother in law’s hands on his shoulders.

It was time.

He squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. The scent of her was still here. How long would it linger for? Would it gradually leave this place or would he wake one morning and find that all trace of her was gone?

The memory of that day. Her voice floating through the window from the street outside. Some mundane conversation with a neighbour. Then a squeal of brakes, a scream, the hideous sound of metal making contact with brick, with something softer..

The memory of her lying there. Her hand in his but growing cold as her listened to the sirens coming closer. As he in turns reassured and pleaded. Her hand sliding from his as she left. The feeling that his very core had been ripped from his body.

He stepped out into the garden. The sun was too bright. The cars were there. Black as the wound in his soul. She was there. She was leaving their home for the final time.

‘I will find you, Claire.’ He made the vow he had made a thousand times since that day.

A sob broke free from his throat.

A red haired little girl took his hand.

He looked down at her and stroked her hair, hair so much like his own.

They walked down the path.