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shawty
@uzumaki2bolt.bsky.social
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Reposted by shawty
shearbolt.bsky.social
Hey, all!

I wrote about some of the reasons why Kawaki is a divisive character in the Boruto fandom, unrelated to the plot.

Enjoy!
November 23, 2025 at 10:06 AM
Reposted by shawty
shearbolt.bsky.social
I am SO excited to write this next chapter.
A list of chapters in a google doc. Family Matters is highlighted.
November 16, 2025 at 9:21 PM
Reposted by shawty
shearbolt.bsky.social
THIS
November 14, 2025 at 4:53 AM
Reposted by shawty
shearbolt.bsky.social
So, is Kawaki putting his jacket back on because he just finished getting further modifications from Amado?
shearbolt.bsky.social ShearBolt @shearbolt.bsky.social · Nov 13
First Boruto Chapter 28 sneak peak!
November 14, 2025 at 3:15 AM
Reposted by shawty
shearbolt.bsky.social
Little Hokage, part 41, Handle It, is now posted.

Happy Sunday!

Enjoy!

archiveofourown.org/works/661845...
November 9, 2025 at 7:43 PM
Reposted by shawty
shearbolt.bsky.social
I don't know if I've ever read something so deeply BoruSara coded before.
November 8, 2025 at 4:49 PM
Reposted by shawty
shearbolt.bsky.social
Little Hokage, part 40, Awkward, is now posted.

May you all have a week full of hope and joy!

archiveofourown.org/works/661845...

Enjoy!
November 6, 2025 at 8:23 PM
Reposted by shawty
shearbolt.bsky.social
Recent TBV events have me feeling very good about this blog post from March.

kyodai.ghost.io/the-boruto-s...
The Boruto Series Has a Chance to Do this One Cool Thing
"Because there is one thing stronger than magic: sisterhood."
kyodai.ghost.io
October 26, 2025 at 12:34 PM
Reposted by shawty
shearbolt.bsky.social
Hi, all!

A new blog post! But it's not about Boruto. Still, I hope you read and enjoy!

kyodai.ghost.io/the-bare-min...
The Bare Minimum
What we should ask of our social media platforms and what we need to do for ourselves.
kyodai.ghost.io
September 21, 2025 at 10:45 PM
Reposted by shawty
shearbolt.bsky.social
Little Hokage, part 33: Safe Now, is now posted!

Hope you're having a good weekend, folks.

Enjoy!

(And don't ask questions about my sleep schedule being that the previous chapter was posted 16 hours ago.)

archiveofourown.org/works/661845...
August 30, 2025 at 3:54 PM
Reposted by shawty
spookycoochiegawd.blacksky.app
If you see this, reskeet with a vampire that is not Dracula
September 6, 2025 at 2:45 AM
Reposted by shawty
shearbolt.bsky.social
Hi, all!

Part FIVE of my short, post-canon BoruSara story, No Place in This World for Me, is now posted.

Mind the tags.

Seriously, mind the tags. It's not my fault if you don't mind the tags.

Enjoy!

archiveofourown.org/works/672810...
July 28, 2025 at 11:26 AM
Reposted by shawty
mondaymint.bsky.social
I had to do my favorite KpopDemonHunter scene with SaiIno
#saiino
July 3, 2025 at 6:38 PM
Reposted by shawty
papersteeth.bsky.social
Jean #AttackonTitan
Black and off-white sketches exploring how I wanted to draw Jean Kirstein from Attack on Titan.
October 23, 2024 at 3:51 AM
Reposted by shawty
rariatoo.bsky.social
#DELTARUNE
July 3, 2025 at 5:04 PM
Reposted by shawty
shearbolt.bsky.social
Part 28: Evolution

(1/3)
Wherever Sarada goes, he has to follow. That’s how Kawaki finds himself lounging beneath a tree in the late afternoon, watching her toss shuriken after shuriken at a wooden target. How many had she thrown in her lifetime? Thousands? Tens of thousands? Seems pointless, the same thing done over and over, perfecting a skill that is already perfect. Why waste time training with stupid ninja tools when all the power she needs resides within her eyes? Not that he’s complaining. The sun is warm, the grass soft. If he’d just lean back and close his eyes, he’s sure he could fall asleep to the thunk of metal striking wood over and over and over again and the accompanying little grunts every time she lets one fly. If only he could just stop watching Sarada’s back, the fan-shaped Uchiha crest embroidered onto her red dress, her black fingerless gloves, the flashes of steel in her hands. This serenity, it’s Lord Seventh’s Konoha, a place where even someone like him could be perfectly at peace. Is there something so wrong with wanting peace? Kawak closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the trunk of the leafless sickly gray tree behind him. What if he could just let everything go? His stupid mission from Shikamaru? His need to ensure Sarada’s survival? The conviction that he needs to kill his brother? All of his fear, all of his hate, all of his love? What if it could just be gone, and he could sleep forever? A primal scream rips him away from his delusions, a scream of outrage, of vengeance, of bloodthirst, of love. A scream that resonates with the scratched-open scabs on his own heart. Kawaki’s eyes shoot open, and the first thing he sees is what’s directly above him: the slack face of Lord Seventh protruding from the tree, his closed eyes, expressionless features, looking just as he does in daikokuten but encased in bark. A second scream reminds him of Sarada, and he forgets all about Lord Seventh. She’s still standing where he’d last seen her, a single kunai raised between her and Hidari’s approach. Black claw marks riddle the ground around them. The Shinju bearing her father’s face approaches in slow, lumbering steps, and Sarada fails to move, no different from when she’d stood between him and Boruto, ready to die for her ideals rather than live in spite of them. Instinctively, he wants to put himself between Sarada and the threat he’d been ordered to protect her from. But the moment he gets off the ground, he’s thwarted by the gnarled roots that had grown out of the soil, twisting around his legs, growing up and around his body like coiling snakes, hugging him against the tree. When he opens his mouth to yell, yet another root stuffs itself into his mouth like a wooden gag. How can she not be moving? Either running away or fighting back or doing anything other than holding her ground, teeth gritted, blade in hand. It’d be comical if he didn’t give a shit what happens to her, this little girl in high heels and a yellow scarf glaring at a monster as though looks alone could kill it. Of course, they can’t.
July 2, 2025 at 10:52 AM
Reposted by shawty
shearbolt.bsky.social
Part 27: Big Moron

(1/5)
Kawaki isn’t sure what he hates the most. The bop of girly techno pop music pouring out from the speakers in the ceiling, as tasteless and tacky as chewed bubble gum? The faceless female mannequins all around, their uniform bodies all pale and white, their gothic-chic outfits black, like an army of Claw Grime cover girls dressed up to go clubbing? The boutique attendants with stars in their eyes, dashing in and out of the changing room on Eida’s orders, or the gawks of girls with their faces pressed up against the big front window to get a look at the deceased Hokage’s son? The forest green walls, the candy pink couch he’s seated on, or the tri-fold floor-to-ceiling mirrors on the other side of the room, lined with round light bulbs? Kawaki had done a lot of bad things in his life, mostly out of necessity. And he still had more trespasses to commit before dying for his transgressions. But he can’t imagine what grievous wrong he’d done to deserve this. Daemon must have heard his beleaguered sigh. The green-haired glances up from his comic book, his green-gold eyes narrowing in annoyance. “You made her late, numbnuts. How do you think I feel?” If someone would have asked him yesterday if he thought he’d ever feel sympathy for Daemon, this answer would have been a flat-out, unequivocal, no, are you fucking stupid? but Kawaki supposes there’s a first time for everything. If this is what the poor kid had to do every time Eida got it into her head to drag the other girls out on a shopping trip, then he’s made of stronger stuff than Kawaki. Either that or Daemon is as devoted to his sister as he is to Lord Seventh. Both guardians had come to the same conclusion: if they wanted to keep an eye on the entryway to the changing rooms and the front door, they had to occupy the one couch that provided a line of sight to both locations, and, thus, had been stuck sitting side-by-side for the past half hour. As much as Kawaki hates reading, he’s starting to get a little jealous of Daemon for having brough something to distract himself. A flutter of attendants burst out of the hall leading to the changing rooms, each of them squeaking and squawking praise at Eida. As worked up as they are by her, Eida had been equally flustered when Kawaki had arrived with Sarada, her cheeks turning fiery pink to see him willingly entering a space with her outside of the house they shared. When he flopped down on the couch, one arm thrown over the back and knees spread wide, accepting his fate as part of his mission to protect Sarada, Eida had stuttered something incoherent before hiding her face behind her hands and disappearing into the back. Had it taken that long to try something on or had some of that time been spent getting herself under control? Now that Kawaki looks at Eida again, whatever she’s wearing isn’t particularly different than what she’d had on when he walked in. If he’d paid more attention, he might think that she hadn’t bothered to change her clothing at all. But what’s the point of a shopping trip if you’re going to buy clothes that are identical to what you already have on? Whatever. Not his problem. He glances over to the door, the window still packed with girls, just double checking to make sure none of them are Hidari. At this point, he almost might welcome an unannounced visit from one of the Shinju if it means getting his ass out of there. No such luck, unfortunately.
July 1, 2025 at 1:29 AM
Reposted by shawty
jamoorrm.bsky.social
#BorutoTwoBlueVortex 🌀🌀🌀
Uzumaki siblings never forget.
June 26, 2025 at 5:25 PM
Reposted by shawty
shearbolt.bsky.social
Part 26: The Consequences of Tardiness
Shikamaru’s plan had been for Kawaki to arrive at the clinic to meet Sarada as soon as her exam was over to take up his fabricated escort duties. But who’d have expected that fucking girl to go to the hospital at eight-thirty in the goddamn morning, giving Kawaki the pleasure of waking up to Inojin’s whiny voice telling him to get his ass out of bed. The pasty kid had been brought on as a sensory shinobi after his injury, probably a pity hire after Jura’s attack fucked him up so bad that he couldn’t stand for any useful length of time. At least that’s what Kawaki figured after having Inojin intrude into his head on occasion with orders from Shikamaru. Ah, good old fashioned Konoha nepotism at its best. He might resent it more if Inojin hadn’t been the only thing that stopped Himawari from becoming tree fertilizer for Jura. Kawaki would offer up all the arms and legs of every member of Team 10 if it meant keeping Lord Seventh’s daughter safe. He fights to get into his clothes from the day before while getting briefed on her medical status. So, Shikamaru did sent orders over to alter her recovery plan to include an escort, but it turns out that there’s still some optic neuritis visible upon examination— What the fuck is that? Kawaki asks, pulling his shirt over his head in the still-dark room. Do I sound like a medical professional? I think it’s swelling of her optic nerve, but I’m not entirely sure. They expected it to decrease by now with her not using her Sharingan. It’s a bad sign that it hasn’t. Not using her Sharingan. Right. Like she hadn’t used it the day she’d tailed him to the training session with Himawari. Like it hadn’t activated again when she’d stupidly gone to Boruto’s bedroom, getting herself worked up for no reason over some old pictures and a bed that he’d be too fucking tall to sleep in now. Anyway, Inojin continues, Aunt Sakura was debating putting her on steroids, but there’s no good data on how they’ll affect a doujutsu user when the source of inflammation is chakra. When Sakura noticed the updates Lord Hokage had inserted into her medical record, suggesting Sarada have an escort to monitor her Sharingan use, she decided it was worth a try before embarking on an untested treatment. You’ll have to bring her back in two days for another exam to see how it’s progressing. So, the fake excuse he had for following her around to protect her from Hidari had turned into an actual issue once a doctor had gotten a look at her? It’s too fucking much for him to digest when it’s this early and he’s turning his pants right side out, the tight pain in his hand reminding him of his knuckles, still battered and busted from the day before. Kawaki sighs. What do I actually have to do? Showing up on time would have been a good start, but you’re late, and she’s pissed that she’s been ordered to wait for you. Apparently, there’s something Eida wanted to do today, and you being late is making her late. She’d be pissed anyway. Inojin gives him a thoughtful hum. You know, she didn’t argue as much as she might have, but you’ve definitely started off on the wrong foot now. Guess that’s what happens when you can’t get out of bed at a decent hour. You’re just lucky the tests took so long. Nine-thirty in the morning isn’t a decent hour. That’s the whole problem. He shakes the wrinkles out of his coat before shrugging it on. Anything else I need to know? That’s it. Just keep her away from Hidari, and stop her from using her Sharingan. If you have any problems, Lord Hokage wants to hear about them.
June 27, 2025 at 4:18 PM
Reposted by shawty
jamoorrm.bsky.social
pretty gf pretty bf
June 26, 2025 at 8:18 PM
Reposted by shawty
shearbolt.bsky.social
Part 25: A Pair of Losers

(1/4)
ChoCho had choked—not on her pancakes but on her words. One moment, she’d been prattling on like the sentient trees were just another piece of village gossip. Then, she looked up at Sarada, mouth still slightly open for a fraction of a second before abruptly slamming it shut, turning the lock, and throwing away the key. Sarada tried to pry information out of her—something, anything—but every answer her old friend gave was about as enlightening as a blown lightbulb. His name? Was she supposed to ask for his name? What he looked like? “A big one,” was all Sarada got. What did he want to know? She’d been too busy defending her team to pay attention to the details. It didn’t help that as soon as she began asking questions, ChoCho started shoving forkfuls into her mouth lightning fast so her responses were muffled by pancakes, forcing Sarada to ask her to repeat what she had said multiple times. The less ChoCho gave her, the harder Sarada pushed, a war between fiery will and an immovable object. Meanwhile, Himawari just sat back, eating her meal and watching the back-and-forth as though she was sitting on the bleachers at a football game. ChoCho left with Himawari the moment their plates were clean, paying for the three of them without informing Sarada that’s what she had done. It was off to the training grounds with the two of them, time to test what Hima had learned in her absence and showcase her new abilities. Sorry, no time for idle chatter! Sarada hardly had a chance to say goodbye to either of them. The interaction is still bothering her now as she walks back from the grocery store, two dozen eggs and some sweet red bean jam in her bag. Was ChoCho being evasive, or had Sarada’s questions been invasive, treating her like a friend when they hadn’t been close for so long? After learning that she’d hurt Sumire, Sarada can’t help dissecting another interaction that feels as though she had missed something, a conversation that had started off fine before veering so far off track. Is this Sarada’s lot in life now, clumsily stomping through conversations with people she cares about, crushing whatever is in the way of her goal? She frowns, noticing a yellow and black butterfly eating nectar from a potted flowerbush on the sidewalk. Sarada, can you be free in the next 30 seconds? Inojin asks abruptly, much more business-like than any of their other interactions. I’m free. Great. I’m patching Lord Hokage in. Be ready. Ugh, had Inojin shared her concerns about Kawaki with Shikamaru? After their conversation earlier that day, and Inojin’s rational explanation, bringing it up again seemed silly. Sarada, you’re there? It’s Shikamaru, his psychic voice lacking the gravely tone of a chronic cigarette smoker. We need to talk. Sarada leans against the planter, startling the butterfly, who flaps its wings, taking to the sky. Go ahead. Inojin and I were reviewing the intel you’ve shared so far and, to be honest, it’s nothing we didn’t already know or suspect. I was hoping you would have gotten more out of him by now. Sarada’s grip tightens on the bag of groceries. Despite the fact that she’s been at odds with the man behind the desk in the Hokage’s Office for the past several years, it still stings to hear that she’s not performing well in her mission. I’m sorry.
June 25, 2025 at 10:43 AM
Reposted by shawty
jamoorrm.bsky.social
next generation main five 🍃
June 18, 2025 at 7:25 PM
Reposted by shawty
mixedgalani.bsky.social
I got coffee at my local coffee shop! Look at the sticker I got!
June 16, 2025 at 10:20 PM
Reposted by shawty
suika-suigetsu.bsky.social
I'm back again, sorry 😭😭😭 #obitouchiha
June 13, 2025 at 2:16 AM
Reposted by shawty
shearbolt.bsky.social
Part 24: Troublesome

(1/3)
Standing on the opposite side of the desk is like looking into a cursed mirror, his own likeness 20 years hence reflected back at him. Except Shikadai never harbored any grand dreams of one day becoming Hokage—though he knows his father hadn’t either. The old man’s shoulders sag beneath the weight of the white cape edged with flames, the same one that was given to him on his first day in office, the day after Naruto died. It’d been a rush job. No tailoring, no personalization, no writing on the back. It’s as much a placeholder as he is, a symbolic stand-in for a person worthy of sitting behind that chair. His father—Lord Hokage—just finished his third cigarette since Shikadai walked into the office less than an hour ago after a semi-clean bill of health had been given to him in the hospital that morning. The check up was something his mother insisted on after bringing fresh towels to him in the bath the previous evening and seeing the extensive bruising on his left side as he was taking his shirt off. You get kicked by a talking tree in need of familial guidance, and see how good you look three days later, was what he thought, but what he said was, “Yes, mother.” Sakura healed his cracked ribs, wrapped his torso in bandages, gave him three aspirin tablets, and informed him it would have been better if his first stop had been the clinic rather than home. Easy for her to say when she didn’t have sand, iron or otherwise, embedded in every pore and crevice from her ears to down between her toes. And, as team captain, he had a mission report to write, too. The very report his father was rereading yet again, trying to look busy while they waited. ChoCho had begged out, saying there was an important date she couldn’t miss. Knowing his orange-haired teammate, that could mean anything from training with her father to an all-day marathon of soap operas she’d recorded while on their mission. And Kohan, Inojin’s temporary replacement, had a six-week-old son at home that he was dying to see, especially after what had happened on the mission. Shikadai figured it was his job to face the His father’s nicotine-stained fingers reach for the ever-present pack of cigarettes on his desk. “He’s sure taking his sweet time, isn’t he?” The question interrupts his father’s search for an additional distraction. Dark eyes with dark circles beneath them look up at his son. “He’s always like this.” That’s Kawaki for you, unpredictable from the start. Going back to their earliest childhood years, he’d been the most reliable and unreliable person Shikadai had ever known. Moody. Loyal. Disgruntled. Courageous. There are those in the village who said he’d changed after his parents died, but Shikadai doesn’t see it like that. It’s true that he cut his friends off, pushed everyone away, stopped laughing and stopped smiling—stopped being all those things that Kawaki once had defined himself by. But to Shikadai, his friend had always been on a forked path, and he’d finally been forced to choose his direction. Real life had snuck up upon him and slapped him in the face, harder than many others had ever been hit. First Karma, then Momoshiki, Boruto’s betrayal, his parents’ death. Kawaki couldn’t afford to be the aimless boy who once rode on the roof of the Thunder Train with Shikadai. He had to cut away everything that held him down. Otherwise, he’d just be stuck in place with everyone in the village expecting him to be something he wasn’t. How could he pursue his goals of vengeance if everyone saw him only as Naruto’s son? Looking back, maybe Shikadai hadn’t been the best friend to Kawaki. He chided him for his failings, pushed him to become more serious. He didn’t understand who Kawaki had once been, the son of a war hero, the son of the Hokage. But he understands better than he ever could have imagined now, doesn’t he? Being the Hokage’s son afforded one many privileges, but it also came with a price.
June 6, 2025 at 8:38 PM