#anyway I abscond now

[quitefair]

just over 5 years ago, i was a houseman (junior doctor/intern) and was in charge of the male medical ward alone at night. my medical officer was in ED with my other houseman colleague, reviewing the dozens of new cases that comes with it being a school holiday weekend. it was a rare moment of calm, where i'd finished all my night reviews and was chilling in the pantry, waiting for those two to come back up to the ward.

and then suddenly, i get a frantic call from one of the nurses.

"doctor, one of the patients is being aggressive, please come help."

so along i went, thinking, oh its probably one of those older uncles, trying to pull out his catheter again, delirious from a urinary tract infection or something. so i go back into the ward, only to find all the nurses cowering behind the counter.

they failed to mention that the aggressive patient was a soldier. weighed almost a hundred kilos and standing at about my height (170 ish cm, i'm tall for an asian). a guy who thought he was being harassed by an orang bunian and was desperately trying to escape the ward.

a guy who was staring right at me, the person that stood between him and the front door, heaving and sweating and looking like he could probably bash my head in.

picture me having to walk in front of all these cowering nurses, and fucking hold this man back, literally hands on his shoulders, shoving him backwards as he stared down at me, eyes glazed over from meningoencephalitis, probably seconds away from physical assault. all while the nurses frantically called security. bear in mind at the time, i was probably around 60kg sopping wet (hey depressed intern), chronically sleep deprived, and absolutely had no experience doing anything like this.

but i had to square up lmao. stared the guy in his glazed over eyes and told him to sit the fuck down. hauled his ass back to bed. and he obeyed, mind you... until he decided to lift his arms up and uh.

break the oxygen supply attached to his bed.

now this was 4am. there were patients in that ward who were very ill, some of whom were attached to ventilators to support their breathing. the oxygen supply was from a mains pipe running through the wall.

breaking the thingy meant that this guys oxygen supply was leeching into the air around us. any little thing, a spark or static or anything couldve meant... well. goodbye ward.

so basically because of this they had to evacuate the entire ward, ventilated patients included, so they could fix it. everybody in the whole hospital was talking about it. i probably still have the picture of the broken oxygen panel in my phone, because my MO who rushed back up to the ward about half an hour later, was like 'lmao. can you send that to me. thats the funniest shit.'

#anyway. if you wonder why i look the way i look now... #(tattoos piercings slightly buffer and a whole lot stronger #able to stare people down in the eye if theyre tryna fuck with me #and even if that doesnt work i'm probably a whole head taller than them) #this is probably the origin story of that lmao #meera talks #medical tag #also the next day another patient absconded from the ward as they evacuated it and after spending the entire day looking for him #they found him asleep in the specialist's oncall room #way 2 go bro

[booperbeanv3]

also now that i've gotten to the retcon bit i have to re evaluate my june egbert transitioned during the boat trip hc

#i mean she still COULD'VE but now she has to re explain and re abscond #this means grounds for a sequel fellas! #and the introduction of woke dave means he'd probably be like #wow john i didn't expect this from you but if this what makes you happy then i don't care. gender roles are stupid anyway #and june goes #fuck you're gay now #BOOM. COMEDY. call me a fuckin comic because this shit is TOO EASY #homestuck #bean stuff

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Salt Mushroom

Debut: Super Mario Galaxy 3

Everybody remembers when Super Mario Galaxy 3 launched worldwide for the Wii's immensely popular successor, the Nintendo Wii Too, blowing all of our collective minds with its flawless combination of the inviting and memorable atmosphere of the first entry in the series with the incredible 3D platforming of its immediate predecessor. But let's be honest, we've all seen Super Mario Galaxy 3 at the top of enough "Greatest Games of All Time" listicles by now. Today we're going to take a much more focused look at just one element which helped to make Galaxy 3 one of the greatest 3D platformers of all time, and one which hardly warrants such a lengthy introduction: the Salt Mushroom!

This item first appears somewhat late in the game, in the Briny Mine Galaxy mission Salt Mario Finds the Cure. You land on a small planetoid with some Gearmos who explain to you that the mine's been overrun with weird monsters! With a boost from a Launch Star, you propel yourself into a pipe, which takes you straight into the depths of the Briny Mine itself.

Sure enough, there's weird monsters all over the place! Excargot, to be precise! These heavily armored, tank-treaded snail creatures try to charge at Mario, leaving trails of slippery slime everywhere! But jump out of the way, and they'll go flying into the wall, causing the shell-like armor on their backs to shutter open, exposing the slimy pink skin inside. What's that? Why haven't I included an image of Excargot, an extraordinarily weird Mario enemy? Well, I mean, we've all seen it. It would be pretty redundant to show a picture, then, wouldn't it? Hm? Now you want to know why I've explained everything in such gratuitous detail thus far? I think you need to keep your voice down.

Anyway, if you try to attack this glaring weak spot with a stomp or a spin, Mario simply bounces off! Clearly, a power-up is in order. Collect the nearby ? Coin to summon the Salt Mushroom, and collect it to become...

Salt Mario!!! With his newfound powers of star-spin-propelled salt-flinging, Mario can handily defeat the Excargot, and even walk with ease across their slime (and even across ice later on in the ever-iconic Slick Street Galaxy). But that's not all! The more time Mario spends as Salt Mario, the more his Hydration Meter decreases! His movement gradually becomes more sluggish, his jump height becoming shorter and weaker, all the while delivering his voice lines with that trademark Salt Mario hoarseness, and loudly rasping his parched lips when left idle, desperately pleading for water.

Of course, we all know that there is no water anywhere in the two levels where the Salt Mushroom is found, and we all know the grisly fate that awaits our plucky plumber when his Hydration Meter finally runs out. We've all seen it! Dozens of times! Hundreds, even! I think I speak for everyone when I say I could watch it happen forever and ever, and never stop laughing!

Needless to say, Salt Mario was a huge hit with fans, and Miyamoto has even cited the Salt Mushroom as his all-time favorite power-up. Some could say the Salt Mushroom has eclipsed even Mario himself in popularity, and many consider it to be the new face of the franchise! I mean, it's a hard claim to deny when we're three entries deep in the Salt Mushroom Rally series (yes, I'm counting Salt Mushroom Rally: Alkaline Abscondence as a discrete title from Salt Mushroom Rally: Alkaline Abscondence Deluxe, I'm not arguing with you about this). And with that, much like Mario's Hydration Meter, my material has finally run dry. You know what Mario would say in this situation? Of course you do! Say it with me, everybody! "HHHHHKKH, KHKKHHHHHHHHH, HHHHKKKKHKK!!!"

#salt mushroom #super mario galaxy 3 #mod shyster #april fools #misinformation #unreality

[fluffmugger]

the number of people hurblurrring about win7 is doing my fuggen head in. There's missing the point, then there's missing the point while trying to hammer home your own urrblurr in peak dunning kruger and then getting personally insulting and bitchy when your misguided idiocy isn't entertained.

yeah yeah I know, welcome to the internet. You can still miss me with that bullshit.

But anyway for those of you wanting clarification: Here is a scenario for you.

There is a game called Children of the Nile. It was released in 2004. It's not supported any more, it's completely depreciated, there's no online features, just a standalone worldbuilder (my favourite kind of nip) This game is sold on steam. This game actually predates steam as a third party reseller, so it definitely doesn't require any steam integration to run. It wasn't even a consideration when the game was being developed. However, steam deliberately integrated their client into the bootwrapper so the game will not run without steam. now pay verrry careful attention because this is where Certain People seem to be losing their goddamn mental faculties: -- Steam deliberately writes in a dependency not required in any way, shape or form to run the game. -- Steam then deliberately disables this dependency based on the dictates of yet another software company whose components (chromium) they utilise for their client webstore. -- End result: A win7 user cannot use a program developed for winXP despite massively exceeding any minimum requirements for the software and having full compatibility because steam broke it.

This is what is bullshit. Steam put in dependencies that the game didn't need and now they're saying they can't support those dependencies that didn't need to be added so you, the end user must run an entirely different operating environment because their business needs dictate it.

They deliberately hobbled the software, then absconded on the obligation that action inferred to any reasonable mind.

This isn't "hurr hurr security concerns" or "hurr blurrr why support old OS" the game already supported the OS (well, technically the OS was compatible with the game). That game isn't updating. The last expansion was in 2008 (which predates the release of win7). That game is a dead, mothballed creature. There aren't any patches coming. No new releases. This isn't about software comparability in the fucking slightest - the game already had that. This is about the fact they took that away in a deliberate act. Don't get it? lemme get the megaphone and make it reaaaal simplified:

YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE TO RUN WINDOWS 10 TO PLAY A GAME RELEASED IN 2004

Likewise you shouldn't need an internet connection to run software with no internet integration and you certainly shouldn't need to support the latest chromium to run steam to play a game that was released as a done creature before either of these fucking companies existed.

This entire scenario is not the natural depreciation of support. It's entirely artificially created by steam, and they can shove it up their arses.

[gallusrostromegalus]

So for AEIWAM, how does the whole Ukitake thing work? I’m still fuzzy on how it was in the manga (and that’s not even touching the ‘epilogue’/Echoing the Jaws of Hell why are these arc names like this) but wasn’t he essentially reverse faith healed-slash-possessed for death? I see you keep mentioning gods so like- what does that whole situation make him?

I need you to imagine a Self-Propogating Cryptocurrency Mining Computer. Whenever it's hardware starts to burn out, it creates a little man to build it a new machine and port it's memory over, keeping the machine alive and solving equations.

In An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy, that's God.

I may need to back up.

If you're not familiar with how Cryptocurrency Mining works, essentially, a computer thinks very, very hard about how to solve an extremely complicated equation, and when it solves it, it gets a little bit of money (or it gets a receipt saying that it has money that uh. nobody will accept, because the money aspect is a scam but the math, at least is real).

Anyway, thinking very, very hard like that runs through the computer's hardware- it's especially hard on the graphics cards. So eventually, if it want to keep solving equations, it needs new hardware. But a computer can't replace it's own parts, and this Ultra-complex, reality-generating God-computer is no different.

So when it starts to get old and degraded, the God-Computer does a neat little trick: it builds itself a programmer. That programmer learns all about the God Machine and how it works and the way it's powered- it moves souls through three planes of existence- each enormously complicated question is representative of the shape of a lifetime- each time a soul completes it's life and is reborn, the God Computer gets a little burst of extra energy. The larger and more complex the soul and longer and richer lifetime, the more energy the God Computer gets. So for the last millions of years, many, many generations of God-computer have made the universe richer and more complicated to generate larger and more complex souls to power themself (themselves?) further.

The programmer learns all about how the God-Computer works, and sets about building the next Generation of God-Computer to keep the universe running.

Due to a slight miscommunication, the programmer is colloquially known as the "Soul King" this time around.

Anyway, the Soul King was doin' his thing, when he happened to start chatting with a cool guy online and agreed to meet up with him. And it was fun! They hung out, Soul King showed him the true nature of reality, they stayed up late eating junk food and talking bullshit, good times. Later, The Soul King's cool friend from the internet said he had some other friends who wanted to meet him, and Soul king thought "BALLER. SLUMBER PARTY!!!" and told everyone to come on over!

-and then the new guys beat the shit out of Soul King's buddy and dismembered the Soul King for parts to sell as part of an organ-harvesting scheme!

Whoops.

Now, Soul King's buddy DID manage to get up and stop one of the organ thieves, the guy absconding with his hands, and tackled him off the Balcony. One of the psuedo-god hands (the one with the power of stagnation) fell into the Spirit World,took the name "Mimihagi" and became a minor kami because he's really bad at this Witness Protection thing.

Eventually, some parents with an extremely sick kid came to the hand's shrine and asked him to save the kid, and Mimihagi went "Well, I can't cure him, but I can hang out in his body for the next few centuries and prevent his disease from getting worse with constant effort?" and they said "...Please?" and Mimihagi said "Yeah OK.

-And ever since then Ukitake has had the left hand of The God Machine's dead repairman living in him and (mostly) stopping his super-tuberculosis from getting worse, like a benevolent tapeworm!

:)

The God-Machine is still dying this whole time, BTW. Might want to do something about that.

(the best part is, that of the three-to-five-and-a-half living pieces of the Soul King, Mimihagi is actually probably the least weird and definitely sanest of them)

#AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #Bleach #Bleach fanfic #mimihagi #Ukitake #Soul king

[kieran-granola]

I promised @krizariel that I would transcribe this one next, so here we go for older JayTim schmoop.

Bruce's funeral takes place on a sunny June day. It's early, too early, but living life the way he did and getting exposed to so many harmful substances and radiation has consequences. Everyone in the Batfamily shows up, no matter how strained their relationship with the Wayne name. Some of them come accompanied by their partner and/or children, and some alone.

Tim is on the cusp of forty, settled in his career, and happy with where he is. He doesn't wear capes anymore, instead he helps train younger heroes. He loves knowing that he's doing what he can to protect them and to help them stay alive to help others.

Jason will blow his forty-second candles in a few months. He still runs a criminal empire, but he's gone to university and gotten a degree. He now has a network of charities that are absolutely fronts, but he runs them in legitimate, ethical ways that enact good in the community. He also has two daughters, one in middle school and the other starting high school, and he has kept a good relationship with his now ex-wife with whom he shares custody.

Tim and Jason haven't exactly worked together or kept contact in over a decade. For all intents and purposes, they're now strangers. They have, however, both had the opportunity to work through their issues. Tim, because it was that or dying, Jason because he wanted to do the work for his daughters.

On the day of Bruce's funeral, they sit together and catch breakfast. They're the first ones awake in the Manor after they all spent the night sitting shiva, and their old enmity feels so far away. They actually get up and reintroduce themselves to each other with strong handshakes all around.

They spend the rest of the morning quietly chatting until the rest of the house awakens. Then the day truly starts, and Tim gets to see how soft Jason has turned out to be because… Well. His daughters are here and, as fraught as Jason and Bruce's relationship was, Bruce definitely showed up to be as good a grandpa as he could be for the girls. His passing devastated them, and Jason is doing everything he can to manage his own grief while being as much of a pillar of support for them as he can be.

It's intriguing and bittersweet for Tim because it makes him realize everything he missed when he decided to keep his distance from the family outside of cape work.

Anyway, eventually the girls need a break, and so Jason offers to drive them to their favorite bookshop for a spot of shopping and ice cream. On an impulse, Tim asks if he can tag along, and Jason agrees.

The "new" face helps get the girls' minds off their grief more than the bookshop does. Jason is incredibly relieved when Tim plays into it and lets them ask their questions. Still, everyone definitely has misty eyes when Jason's youngest picks a new edition of her favorite childhood book, because Bruce used to read it to her all the time, and she wants to read it with him one last time.

Having these interactions opens things up between Tim and Jason. When the girls join their other cousins back at the Manor, the two of them abscond to the patio and share their memories of their own fathers. The conversation goes from there to happier memories—childhood foods, shenanigans, broken vases and finger painting—and they find themselves smiling despite their shared grief.

They enjoy each other's company so much that they share phone numbers and make a promise to just... Catch up again. In happier circumstances.

As the weeks go by, their texting history lengthens. They chat every time they have a minute, and it takes a while but they eventually find a shared free spot in their schedules to grab a beer together. It's not a date—not in any of their minds at least, not yet—but they both sense the potential there when they're looking each other in the eye, feeling light and happy.

Eventually, after many months of meetings, they end one of their evenings with a spur-of-the-moment kiss, and they finally put words on the dating they've been doing.

They keep seeing each other for a while after that, now as romantic partners, and they do try out the bedroom when the girls are at their mum's place.

Then, Jason asks Tim if he'd be willing to have dinner with him and his daughters.

(He kept things on the down low at first, and he didn't really advertise his recurring meetings/dates with Tim, but the girls could see the way he smiled at his phone sometimes... and how he actually went shopping for more than his usual boring suits. They're not surprised when he tells them he's seeing someone.)

The girls absolutely hoot when Tim shows up with flowers for them, and wine for Jason and him. They then proceed to grill him over dinner while roasting the absolute hell out of Jason. Jason retaliates with the worst dad jokes and the threat of baby pictures.

Tim has an absolute blast, and that's when he realizes that Oh, it's more than just casual dating. He's falling in love with Jason. And obviously Jason is serious about this too, or he never would have introduced him to his daughters as more than a distant uncle.

The evening keeps going despite Tim's momentous realization. Jason and him start reminiscing about their younger days and the girls give each other a commiserating look of "ugh" at the dinosaurs and abscond to their bedrooms. Tim and Jason end up curled up together on the couch for one last coffee, then Tim heads back home, feeling warm down to his bones.

After that first dinner, the girls keep asking Jason if Tim will be there whenever their dad offers to take them somewhere. They insist on inviting him if Jason doesn't, because he obviously makes their dad happy, and eventually it becomes natural to include Tim in the family activities from the get-go.

The girls know they've won and gotten their dad to stop pussyfooting around his feelings when Jason shows up to his eldest's hockey match hand-in-hand with Tim and introduces him to their mom.

(She's very amused and tells him she's heard so much about him from the girls she already feels like they're friends.)

But… Jason isn't the only one with kids who care about him. Tim, as The Only Cool and Reliable Adult in most of his superhero protégés' lives, ends up being a surrogate father to quite a few of them. It's not rare for him to get random visits from young vigilantes in need of advice/a hug/someone to tell them they're proud of them and doing good.

Jason: "This isn't fair."

Tim: "What."

Jason: "My girls barely threatened you, meanwhile Wonder Girl 13 dangled me off a building because she thought I'd brainwashed you."

Tim: "Don't tell me you're scared of my students."

Jason: "Well, I can't exactly SHOOT them, can I?"

Tim: "I'd be very cross with you if you did."

Jason: "No shit. At least that explains why you were so good with the girls."

Tim: "Hmm?"

Jason: "You're a father of twelve, Tim."

Tim: "... I guess, I am. Though.... More like fourteen now, I hope?"

Jason: "You'll have to sort it out with the girls, but considering they keep sending me links to jewellers, I think it's safe to assume so."

Tim: "Nic— Wait. What?? They want us to get married?!"

Jason: "No, they think you need a new watch. Of course, they want us to get married."

Tim: "...I've never been married."

Jason: "I have."

Tim: "...Would you be opposed to doing it again?"

Jason, putting down his reading to look into Tim's eyes: "Why, are you interested?"

Tim: "...Maybe."

Jason: "..."

Tim: "..."

Jason: "..."

Tim: "...Nevermind this was s—"

Jason, interrupting him: "What's your band size?"

#jaytim #kieran writes #tim drake #jason todd #rip bruce wayne #they get married in Fall with all the shades of red on the trees cradling them in their embrace

[killedbythehuntress]

Stockholm Syndrome

★·.·´¯`·.·★ .:**:.☆*.:｡.✿ ★·.·´¯`·.·★ 

Also on: AO3 and Wattpad

Masterlist

I want to apologise for the delay in this chapter, seasonal depression sorta kicked my ass. But hopefully this makes up for it.

★·.·´¯`·.·★ .:**:.☆*.:｡.✿ ★·.·´¯`·.·★ 

Chapter Seven.

"Sebastian." She calls with a huffed laugh, pushing herself up from where she'd fallen. No matter how many times she walked this path, she always seemed to trip over the same tree root. She supposed that was down to the denseness of the trees, the light filtering in through separate areas, and shadows being created where they shouldn't be. "Are you sure the cave you're looking for is around here?" 

"I'm sure." He told her, although even he was sounding a little unsure of himself. That alone was enough to put her on edge, making her stop dead in her tracks as her hands found their way to her hips. 

"You're not, are you? Tell me the truth." She glowered at him, annoyed. They'd been traipsing around the forest now for two hours. 

"Okay, fine. We may have been a bit lost, but I'm starting to recognize things now." Her arms moved to cross over her chest, her eyebrows farrowing at him. "Look, I promise. I recognize that swirly thing." Her eyes followed where he pointed and she couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"It's a Merlin trial, and there's like a 100 of them, identical - scattered in the Scottish Highlands." She watched him deflate slightly and felt bad. "We're out here anyway though. Let's go." 

Dropping her arms, she pushed forward towards the trial, digging into her bag for some Mallowsweet instinctively. 

Why she felt compelled to do every one of these she found, she didn't know. 

Sprinkling the herbs, she watched as the vines shifted off some pillars. "You look around here, give me a second." She told him, pulling herself atop the shortest before using the height vantage to plan her movements. 

It took her less than five minutes - and one tumble and a restart - for her to complete it. Dropping down to sit on the edge of the tallest, and last pillar she'd landed on. She felt something wrapping around her ankle, shaking her leg, and looking down to find nothing. Frowning, her brows furrowed, perhaps it was one of the vines.

“It’s this way!” Her head whipped up, looking in the direction that Sebastian was, her frown deepening. 

“Are you sure? There’s an Acromantula lair in there.” She offered, jumping from her perch and making her way to him while remembering her fight with The Absconder. They might be dead, but it wasn’t unlikely that another had taken its place. 

She came to stand next to him, looking into the cavernous path, and shuddered. She felt another tug at her leg and looked in that direction, seeing nothing but feeling the need to brush something imaginary off her school robes. “Let's get this done, Sebastian. If I never see another spider, it'll be too soon.” 

Shaking her head, she stepped over the threshold between freedom and spider lair, pulling the robes closer around her to stop them snagging against some webbing. She heard Sebastian following behind her as they made their way through, stepping over empty egg nests and web-covered remains. 

After a while, Sebastian took the lead and she felt her stomach drop as they moved closer to where she'd fought the Absconder. “Seb!” She hissed quietly, hoping to not pull attention from anything lurking around. “Are you sure? Like really sure?” 

She watched him turn to her, clearly a little annoyed at being questioned, before his eyes widened. She heard him call her name, a clear warning, but too late as she felt something wrap around her ankles and pull. 

Feeling dazed, she rolled over onto her back, barely registering herself being pulled across the ground as she struggled to catch the breath that had been knocked from her, it didn't take long before she realized what had happened though. The large Thornback Matriarch towered over her form, webbing wrapped around her lower legs and torso as she was dragged towards it. “Sebastian, help!” She yelled, scrambling for the pocket she kept her wand inside, only to have another coat of the silky web trap he'd hand against her body. 

Her free hand dug into the ground around her as Sebastian flung spells at the beast, her attempts at stopping the pull in vain - the spells seemingly having no effect on the thornback. It was only as she was pulled close enough to see the spider's fangs, glistening slightly in the low light that her panic increased. “Sebastian, please!” She cried, her voice cracking slightly. 

“Avada Kedavra!” The flash of green was almost blinding, the tension that had been pulling at the webbing wrapped around her finally abating and she felt relieved, her head falling back onto the ground to look up at the sky - instead of the thornback curling up dead near her. A choked sob left her, her not trapped hand coming up to cover her lower face. 

“Diffindo.” The word was quiet, but it worked, the web slicing down the center and allowing it to slide off of her. “Hey, Shh,” Sebastian murmured, falling to his knees next to her. “It's okay, I've got you. I've got you.” He continued to say, holding her against his chest with a faint rocking motion as she cried. 

— — — — — —

“Shh, it's okay. I've got you.” The words were quiet but repeated over and over. The feeling of being rocked almost soothed her back to sleep. “I'm sorry, I'm here. I've got you, please wake up.” The feeling of someone pressing their face against the top of her head caused a wince, she must have hit her head at some point, and it hurt.

In fact, everything did. She was sure she was aching in places she didn't know could ache. Groaning softly, she tried to wiggle from the tight grip around her. “Seb?” She asked, voice weak. 

Her eyelids felt so heavy as she tried to open them, almost as if trying to lull her back to sleep. The small slither of light broke through the tiny gap in her eyelids enough to send a sharp ache through her already throbbing skull with another groan. 

“Shh, I'm here, I've got you!” The words were said against her hair as he pulled her tighter, a frantic edge to his voice. “I'm sorry.” She heard him murmur, almost as if he was hiding something. 

Before she could ask though, she lost the fight with unconsciousness. 

— — — — — —

Waking the second time, she could almost believe that the last couple of days had been some sort of nightmare, dreamt up as some stress-induced imagining of her situation.

Almost. That is. 

Because when she tried to move to get up from the bed, her body screamed out in pain. Crying out, she instead turned onto her side and curled into the tightest fetal position possible.

As she lay in her own self-pity, she couldn't ignore the sounds of footsteps almost running across the main floor, the small tinkling sound of what was likely potion bottles pairing with them. It wasn't long before the mattress next to her dipped, ripping a whimper from her as it jostled her aching body. 

“Shh, it's only me.” She heard, and that alone was enough for her to pull from her position if only to look up at him. 

“Sebastian?” Even tinged with pain, her voice couldn't hide the awe she felt at seeing him again. She was sure he had been killed - or worse, captured. Lifting her hand and ignoring the pain, she trailed her fingers over his stubble-covered cheek. 

Only once she believed this wasn't some elaborate dream or hallucination did she pull away.

And slap him. 

“Where the hell have you been?” She demanded, her pain momentarily forgotten. “I've been so sc…” She cut herself off, instead watching as the look of regret - and perhaps pity? But she ignored that - passed over his face. 

“I'm sorry,” Sebastian said quietly, holding up a small bottle, filled with bright green liquid. “Drink this first, and when we get you comfortable, I'll tell you everything.” 

She watched as he uncorked the bottle with his teeth, using his other hand to hold himself up over her before he brought the rim to her lips. She couldn't help the skeptical look - or the feeling - of what was happening, but a part of her - a part that was growing more and more recently - told her he was only trying to help, she needed him after all. 

Finally, she parted her lips enough for the Wiggenweld Potion to slip down her throat, many of the aches and pains lifting immediately. 

Sighing in relief, she pushed back on the mattress with a little more ease, lifting her hand and watching as her nails grew back. She still felt several aches and pains - some areas burning and stinging depending on the wound - things that would take time and not just a simple Wiggenweld potion. 

The most prominent pain came from her left arm - thankfully not her dominant arm - which she held cradled against her chest. Looking at it, the angle was off just enough to be noticeable. 

The sight of it made her feel sick, her head pushing back into the pillow in an attempt to not see it from the corner of her eye as she swallowed back the lump in her throat. 

“I need a doctor.” She said finally, her voice warbling and raspy - clearly she'd be crying if she wasn't so dehydrated. 

“No, you don't.” He told her firmly, stopping her attempt to sink into the mattress and pulling her into a seated position before bringing a glass of cold water to her lips. 

His arm wrapped around her, pulling her against his chest as she drank greedily, a kiss being pressed against her hairline. “I'm so sorry I was away for so long.” He murmured, his face pressing against her hair with a deep inhale. 

He refilled the glass for her twice before she'd drank enough to feel sated, her body and mind still tired as she slumped further into his hold, her heavy eyes falling shut. “Hey, hey.” He nudged her softly, “Let me fix your arm first, and then you can go back to sleep.” 

She felt herself nod, her eyes drooping slowly. Had she been this tired a few minutes ago? Her brow crinkled as she tried to think, she was sure she hadn’t, so why was she? She struggled to think back to the glasses of water he’d given her, cursing internally that she’d ignored the slight purple hue of the second one. “Sleeping draught.” She slurred, attempting to sound angry that he’d essentially drugged her. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” She heard him say, gently resting her down on the bed with a peck to her forehead. “But I figured it’d make this easier.” Had she not been so sluggish, she'd have realized what he was about to do sooner. The manipulation of the bones in her wrist, as he tried to get them back in position, wrenched a blood-curdling scream from her, even while half asleep. 

The last thing she heard before the draught took her under was Sebastian uttering a spell.

— — — — — —

She was so thirsty… 

Why was she so thirsty?

She wasn't sure what was happening, but the need to escape was strong. 

Where was she?

She could see the Undercroft. 

Is that where she was meant to go? 

She was feeling a serious sense of deja vu.

The banging stopped and that made her stop, a loud bang echoing behind her before the doors slammed open, the entire cavern shaking and dust falling around her. 

No, that wasn't right. 

She scrambled forward, surely she just had to get to the Undercroft and her desire to escape would be satiated 

Of course.

She was free.

She wasn't.

She watched as the path to the Undercroft was blocked by more stone - had this happened before? 

The sound of scuttling rushing towards her. 

No, not scuttling. Footsteps. In her desperate haze, had she heard wrong?

A screech.

No, it was her name. Someone was calling her name.

"No!" She screamed, watching as the rock collided with her wrist, the appendage being forced out of shape as she screamed.

— — — — — —

The memory of the pain pushed her back into consciousness. Her body jolted slightly before she took a moment to scan her surroundings. 

She was still in the cavern. Still alive. Still in the bed and still aching. 

She brought her hands up to her face, rubbing at her bleary eyes with a groan. It was then she noticed the pain in her wrist was gone, completely. 

Pulling her hands away from her face, she elevated her arm to inspect her wrist properly. 

No bruising, no weird shaping, no broken bones. Sebastian had repaired it somehow. 

Considering he'd taught himself the unforgivables from books, it was no surprise he'd managed to master healing spells - even if he'd gone to Azkaban before healing classes had been an option able to be taken. 

Sebastian…

Pushing herself into a seated position, she couldn't see him, but she could hear him downstairs. “Seb?” She murmured, feeling as though, if she spoke too loud the illusion she had brought of him would disappear. 

The shuffling sound stopped for a moment and her heart sank, before she heard the sound of a chair scraping against stone and footsteps. 

Her brain still felt hazy and she couldn't help the feeling of still dreaming, so she pinched herself once.

Twice. 

Only on the third pinch was she satisfied that she was awake. She watched as Sebastian reached the top of the stairs, walking towards her and the bed. 

“Think you’re up for a bath and some food?” He asked quietly, stopping a few steps away from her. Was he trying to avoid giving her the explanation he promised? Looking down at herself, she had to admit she was pretty filthy, the once white chemise was now an almost dark gray - and that thought was how she found herself nodding at him. 

It didn’t take more than a few minutes before she was downstairs and in the tub, the layer of grime and stone shedding from her body and turning the water a murky color. She watched Sebastian wave her wand, the water clearing before he picked up a bar of soap. “How’re you feeling, any pain still?” He asked softly, rubbing the bar over her back and shoulders, digging his fingers in lightly to loosen any tension. 

“Just some aches…” She mentions, not really looking up from the water. “Where were you?” 

“I went back to your cottage, get you some more things.” That made her look up, her gaze immediately falling onto Sebastian. “I’m serious, I figured you could use more than one chemise.” 

“Sebastian, you were gone days.” 

“I know, I thought I’d left enough time for any Aurors sniffing about would have given up.” He began, scooping up a small jug of water and using it to rinse her hair, tipping her head back gently with his other hand. “I was wrong though, I almost got caught.” 

She’d had a feeling, but hearing it and thinking it felt different. Her heart dropped, her brows furrowed and her fists clenched under the water. She had been so close to dying here alone. 

“I had to run, even apparated a few times but they still caught up.” She wasn’t sure if the water was getting cold or if the story was chilling her, but she felt herself shivering slightly. Another wave of her wand from Sebastian heated the water a little more for her. “It took a well-timed Disillusionment charm and for a group of poachers for me to give them the slip. I had to hide out in a cave for a little while to be sure it was safe to come back. Make sure no one was following me.” 

A few days ago, the thought of Sebastian not being followed and no one finding her would’ve caused her stomach to drop in distress. This time though, she was sure she was feeling some sort of relief from the news. “Please don’t ever do that again.” 

“You were gone for days, I was so scared.” She offered, her hand coming up and resting against his cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do here without you.” She bit her lower lip, pushing the tears that wanted to slip down her cheeks back. 

Sebastian leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. “I promise, I have no plans to leave for so long again. I’m so sorry.” He whispered, but being so close it was easy for her to hear. 

They stayed like that for a few minutes, until the water started to cool again and she began to shiver. He then pulled her from the water gently, wrapping a towel around her. 

“Go get dressed, the clothes I managed to get are in your suitcase in the sleeping area.” Nodding, she took over holding the towel around her, wondering what he would’ve picked up for her. “I’ll make up a bowl of stew for you.”

Turning, she began to make her way to the stairs, her gaze falling over the now completely covered wall that used to hold the passageway to the Undercroft. The sight of it took her back, the fear, her eagerness, the stress - the worry of dying all hit her in one fell swoop. 

“Sebastian?” She called, turning quickly back to the returned man. 

“Yeah?” He stopped stirring the stew he’d been checking, putting the bowl down on the counter to turn to her. She made quick work of the space she’d made between them, reaching him quickly. 

Her hand came up, grasping the back of his neck and pulling him down into a desperate kiss. The first kiss she’d initiated between them since this whole ordeal began. She attempted to convey her feelings to him silently, feeling his hands hesitantly grab at her waist. 

“I don’t want to be alone again.” She told him quietly, barely pulling away from his lips as she spoke, her eyes downcast as she showed some vulnerability to him, her grip on the towel loosening slightly. 

#stockholm syndrome #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #beth writes #writing #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow fic #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy fic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction

[saltygilmores]

Dance Marathon Episode-Part 9-The Bloody Finale. RIP Shane.

Now I know my readers have lost untold hours of sleep pondering the origin of all this Shane is Dead nonsense. Fret no more, my 4-6 regular readers. Fret no more. After her public dumping for the ages, Rory retreats to Money Laundering Bridge, where the soon to be homocidal maniac follows close behind (Shane's current whereabouts are unclear, but he won't let her get too far). A brief, gloomy conversation between Jess and Rory ensues, where it is established that Jess and Rory Like-Like each other and are comitting to not knowing a moment of peace or sexual intercourse for the next 6-8 months. Yippee. So, we are to believe that the thing that needs "taking care of" is presumably, ending his "relationship" with Shane. But a normal, not-murderer person could have said something like "I have to go talk to Shane." Or he would have not said anything to Rory because Shane was not even his girlfriend anyway, so who gives a crap? If we have just established that Rory and Jess have decided to make a go of this thing, it's a given that Shane is history. She's off like a prom dress. So why did he have to say it like that? What, exactly, has to be "taken care of"? You know what kind of people say things like that? People who are in the mob, before they erase someone. (but instead of "sleeping with the fishes", Shane will be sleeping with the swans.) On top of that, why are you using that absolutely bone-chilling tone of voice? And such a creepy Okuh, too. That's an okuh that will make your blood run cold. Also, that creepy way he's staring at Rory, like he's contemplating evil. You can see it in his eyes that the evil gears are turning in his evil brain. How convenient that after he says this Ms. Campbell is never seen or heard from again. RUN SHANE! RUN! Run as fast as your slutty little legs can carry you!

Shane Campbell B. 198? D. 2002 Shane Campbell was born sometime in the mid 80s to Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, who were those really cool kinda parents who let their daughter have boys in her bedroom and said things like "drinking is okay as long as you do it in the house". Until her untimely death, Ms. Campbell was employed by Stars Hollow Beauty Supply. She prided herself on being gainfully employed and sex-positive and being the creator of new words such as "bloaty". She was educated in the Stars Hollow school system, causing some of her detractors to believe that Ms Campbell did not know how ice was made. She had plans to attend cosmetology school and looked forward to a career in the beauty industry where she would have made more money and met way cooler people and had a lot more sex than other people who went to Yale instead. We will miss her spicy customer service, off the shoulder tops, low rise jeans, and love of tonsil hockey. RIP. I will remember you, will you remember me, don't your let your life pass you by...weep not for the memories... Jess departs the lake to locate his victim and comitt certain felonies and busy himself with cleaning up bodily remains. As she posed no real threat to his relationship with Rory, his motive for Taking Care of Shane remains unclear. He is just a blood thirsty maniac. God forbid a boy finds a hobby, right? He has a long night ahead of him. Rory and Lorelai return to the dance a few moments apart, where Rory's absence has disqualifed them and Kirk wins. Rory cries into Lorelai's arms over the loss of Butthead and the gaining of Jess The Mess. As Kirk circles the gym with his trophy, the Rocky theme song plays, which drowns out Shane's screams of terror from behind the school. With the same superpower that he utilized to abscond with 500 baseballs, Jess manages to drag Shane's lifeless body from the school and back to the lake and feeds her to the swans. The end.

#RIP Shane #we'll miss you queen #until you come back as a Swan and give your killer a rightful beaking #such a go getter #denise rewatches gilmore girls #gilmore girls season 3 #they shoot gilmores dont they #tsgdt #jess mariano #jess the killer #in the arms of the angel #may you find some comfort there #shane's obit has to be one of the silliest things ive ever written #at least I crack myself up

[sleepymccoy]

Genuinely the last two hours of my shift was insane.

1pm: I visit a resident who doesn't need much help. I haven't checked on her all day except for bringing meals. Ask if she needs anything. "1000 boxes of chocolate" okay, that's beyond me, but I'll try for some chocolate! She's immediately trying to talk me out of it "it was a joke!"

1.05 pm: help a bloke into bed. He insists on first bumping me every minutes cos we're working well as a team. This genuinely made it harder, but so much more fun!

1.10 pm: paperwork

1.20 pm: sneak into the receptionist office looking for her secret chocolate. Encounter nurse. Explain what I'm doing and he goes, "oh, I stole some chocolate earlier, here, have the whole box!"

1.25: find four resident together, two walking pushing the other two on wheelchairs. Only one of the ladies in a wheelchair is okay with this. They are all fighting very loudly about who's being helpful and who isnt. Intervene, remove the lady in the chair who doesn't want to be pushed. One of the walking ladies grabs the others' 4 wheel frame and pushes it out of reach to punish her.

1.30: having returned the frame and de-escalated everything, I'm now outside with the lady in the wheelchair to show her the flowers so she knows things are calm. She's very happy with me. She used to volunteer with a native wildlife conservation group that spent a lot of time planting trees.

1.45: attend call bell. Resident is having a seizure. Wife is very upset. Get resident in bed, call nurse, help wife calm down

1.55: swing by first resident's room, give her a box of chocolates. She's overjoyed, can barely talk she's laughing so much

2.00: chat with colleague about the ladies' fight earlier. He heaves, like, the biggest sigh! Begin tea and coffee service

2.05: my involvement in tea and coffee service comes to end, as seizure guy has another seizure. Call a nurse, no answer. Colleague comes by and recognises the seriousness, I can hear her yelling at the nurse on her radio to come now while I try to keep the wife calm (seizures are very scary looking!)

2.20: nurse is here! She explains another resident has absconded, which is why they're busy. I know the bloke who's absconded well, so I volunteer to look for him. I no use to seizure guy compared to a nurse

2.25: meet the nurse who's outside searching. "I can't ask you to do this, because then I'm responsible for anything that might happen to you. But I would like it if you looked for him." Okay, fine, I get it i guess. Also, you snuck me chocolate earlier for that Resi, so I feel fond

2.30: I get lucky and find him. He dawdles back to the facility with me. We talk about political history and why there are no pubs in walking distance

2.45: hastily do my paperwork. Lots of behaviour charting today! And everyone wants to ask me where I found the missing resident (the answer isn't funny, but people laugh anyway, cos what else can we do? He got like three blocks away to the main road. He was trying to catch a tram. It's scary)

2.50: spend five min with seizure guy's daughter because she looked upset. Ambulance is here for him now and she'd left the room to give everyone some air

2.55: visit a resident in another wing who just got back from hospital. He usually visits me when I'm on shift so I was worried to not see him, sure enough he's very short of breath and can't walk far (hence going to hospital yesterday). Help him to bed, tell the nurses, they already know

3.00: home time!

#and still so much calmer than working in the dementia wing

[scribomaniac]

forward, always: chapter 2

Sakura’s prediction was right; Izuna made for a terrible patient. 

He wasn’t the worst, thankfully. That honor went to the one and only Hatake Kakashi. The number of times she’d had to track that man down after he’d absconded from the hospital just to make sure he hadn’t undone all her hard work had been countless. 

At least Izuna stayed in one place.

Izuna had been on bed rest for a full month now, and awake for three of them. While his injuries still caused him to rest for several hours throughout the day, when he was awake he made sure that everyone knew it.

“I’m sorry Izuna,” Sakura told him for the twentieth time that morning as she spoon fed him the blandest of broths. “But your body isn’t ready for anything more than this.” 

And it wouldn’t be for some time, but she didn’t want to tell him that just yet. 

“I don’t think you’re very sorry at all,” Izuna sniffed. As soon as he was able to keep conscious for more than an hour at a time, Madara had ordered servants to bring an abundance of pillows to use to prop Izuna up into a sitting position. Madara had argued that it’d help with Izuna’s pride, allowing for him to feel less like an invalid, and Sakura had agreed because the position didn’t pull at his healing wound and would make feeding and bathing him easier. 

“Regardless,” Sakura said as she held a spoon full of soup near his mouth. 

With a petulant sneer on his face, Izuna opened his mouth and accepted his fate. 

“Are you sure she’s not Senju, sent here to poison me with disgusting broth?” Izuna threw an arm over his eyes and slumped back further into his cushions. 

Madara laughed. It was deep and soft and made Sakura’s stomach turn warm. As elusive as it was, Sakura found herself loving Madara’s laugh. It seemed to come out the most when in the presence of his little brother. 

“I’m sure,” he assured Izuna with a small smile on his face.

“Well” Izuna sighed, letting his arm drop and coming out of hiding. “You’ll be an Uchiha soon enough.” He looked between his brother and Sakura. “How was the announcement received, anyway?” 

“It was accepted by the elders,” Madara told him. “Our first meeting with the chief priest will be in a fortnight.”

Izuna hummed. “A clan head wedding and an alliance with the Senju. You sure have thrown a lot at them recently.” His dark eyes narrowed and his lips pursed. “Are you sure that this venture, or whatever you’re calling it, with Hashirama is a good idea?”

The day after Hashirama’s visit, Madara had summoned his council of elders to inform them of their plans for a truce and joint creation of a village. Sakura had expected more push back from the war torn elders, from the men who’d fought against the Senju for the entirety of their lives, but a surprising majority of them supported the idea. Hashirama’s prowess cast a long shadow, and it seemed that even now, before he creates and takes on the title of Hokage, the man was revered as the God of Shinobi. Many within the clan preferred to be on Hashirama’s side, rather than against it, even if that meant swallowing generations worth of strife and pride. 

Of course, there were still a good number of Uchiha who didn’t believe that the Senju would keep their word, none louder than Izuna, but with the popular opinion working against them, and no one daring to outright challenge Madara’s leadership, they could do little more than grumble their grievances.

Madara looked at Sakura first before responding, “I think it is worth a try.”

Izuna sighed. “If you say so.” His eyes drooped to a close and his breathing evened out, and soon he was asleep. 

Fussing with his blanket and making sure to cover Izuna’s shoulders to ward off any chill, Sakura then gathered up the half empty bowl of broth and nodded for Madara to follow her out of the room. 

Once they were a safe enough distance to speak freely and at a normal volume, Madara took the dishes from Sakura’s hands and set them off to the side. “It makes my heart sore to see Izuna in such good spirits.”

Sakura hummed, “He’s always a bit more energetic when you visit. He’s recovering faster than I had anticipated, too. We should be able to start his physical therapy in less than a month.” There was bound to be a set back or two, but Izuna was well out of the woods at this point and they could cross that bridge when they came to it.  

“There’s more to it, too,” Madara said before placing a brief kiss on her forehead. The action was becoming one of his favorites. “I think he’s excited for the future, just as I am.”

Wrapping her arms around Madara’s waist to keep him close, she smiled widely up at him. “The truce with the Senjus is truly remarkable, Madara. Everyone should be excited for it.”

Madara chuckled and shook his head. He brought his own arms around her shoulders a bit hesitantly, still unused to Sakura’s easy affections. “That’s part of it, I’m sure, but I think what he’s most excited for is our wedding. He’s always wanted a sister, you know.”

That drew a loud laugh from Sakura’s lips. “No way,” she shook her head. “He’s been ready to be rid of me ever since waking up.” Before that, even, considering their very first interaction included Izuna trying to strangle her. “He just tolerates me because of his love for you.”

“Trust me, Sakura,” Madara said with a smirk, “Izuna likes you. You’ll understand when you see him with the elders. He tolerates no one for my sake.”

Giving his waist a squeeze, Sakura relented, “If you say so.” Pulling back slightly, she asked, “Are you still meeting with Hashirama later today?”

Madara nodded. “We’re still mapping out the boundaries for the village. There’s a clan with a massive forest that we’d like to invite to join us. We plan to go out and start negotiations with them today.”

That must be the Nara clan, Sakura figured. The Nara forest with its sacred deer were an important addition for the future of Konoha. Not only would that clan bring their intelligence and specialized jutsus, but the forest would serve as a nearly impregnable defense along the eastern boundary of the village. 

Madara and Hashirama would be successful in their negotiations, Sakura knew, but she was nervous all the same. The textbooks never went into detail about how long it took for the village’s two founders to convince other clans to believe in their dream, or what arrangements were made to ensure cohesion. The textbooks merely said it happened, leaving Sakura feeling like a half baked prophet. 

Instead of focusing on things outside of her control, Sakura asked,“Will you be home for dinner?” 

Wincing, Madara gave her an apologetic look. “I’m not expecting to be, no. Hashirama is readying overnight provisions for us.”

So she really should have been asking if he’d be home for breakfast. Sakura shrugged, knowing it couldn’t be helped. At least she had her own itinerary planned for once, which would help keep her busy. 

“Alright, I’ll see you in the morning then.” Something resembling relief passed across his face at her words. “I’ve got a busy day planned for myself, actually. I was planning on going to the market and then perhaps to the Apothecary. It’s time I start learning the lay of the place.”

Since coming to Madara’s aid, Sakura had mostly been sequestered away in the main house. Now though, with Izuna in a more stable position and the news of their engagement spread, Sakura felt the need to make her presence known and get to know the people she was marrying into. If she was to become their matriarch—and wasn’t that just a shock and a half for a civilian born girl—she needed to know them and be known by them.

“I understand,” Madara nodded slowly. Whatever relief Sakura had found in his facial expression had been replaced with apprehension. “I’ll have Saburo escort you.” Madara stepped out of Sakura’s hold to walk out onto the engawa. Raising his arm, he waited for only the briefest of moments before one of his hawks landed on his extended arm, ready to receive a new message from its master. 

“Thank you,” Sakura said before Madara could get a message out, “but that's unnecessary, I won’t need an escort.”

A deep frown of displeasure cut its way across Madara’s mouth. “I think it’s best if you do. I insist.” He reached out with his free hand and grabbed her forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze. His tone was firm though, it was the voice he used when he commanded attendants and spoke with his elders. It left no room for argument. 

Sakura hadn’t heard that tone directed at her since those first early weeks attending the lord’s wife. 

Stepping closer to him, Sakura felt her own frown marring her face. “I don’t understand,” she admitted. Speaking quietly, she continued, “Surely there’s no danger within your clan’s territory, and I’m fully capable of taking care of myself. You know this.” 

Madara might not yet know the extent of her fighting prowess, but he had seen the distance she’d thrown that assassin. That had to count for something, surely. 

A pit of dread formed at the bottom of Sakura’s stomach. Did Madara think her weak? Would he, like all of Team Seven before him, only see the petite medic that needed to be coddled and protected at all costs? Sakura had trained for so long, fought so hard, for so many years, only to be forever cast aside as useless by those she wanted to protect. Always the one left behind. 

Madara let loose a long sigh before leaning forward to press his forehead against hers. Closing his eyes he told her, just as quietly, “Even within these walls I cannot guarantee your safety, and as my betrothed you now have a target on your back.” Pulling back enough to look her in the eyes, Madara squeezed her arm again as he said, “I would feel more at ease if I knew someone was with you, watching your back.”

The pit unfurled, releasing Sakura’s from its claws of insecurity and doubt. Madara wasn’t trying to push her off to the side, he just wanted to give her support. Understanding now Madara’s motivations, Sakura felt a soft smile curl across her lips. Placing a hand on his cheek, she reached up and gently pressed her lips to his. A warmth spread throughout her chest as she felt him kiss her back. They hadn’t shared many kisses since Sakura’s accidental proposal to Madara a month ago, but when they did it never failed to make Sakura’s heart flutter wildly. Pulling back, she nodded once, “Okay.” 

Not long after the messenger hawk left did Madara follow. Sakura wished him luck and told him to be safe and then she was alone. Knowing this Saburo man was on his way, Sakura did a final check on Izuna–still sleeping–informed the staff that she’d be stepping out for a while, and changed into a new yukata; one that didn’t have dribbles of broth staining it. 

An attendant informed Sakura of Saburo’s arrival, and she went to meet him in the genkan. “Oh,” Sakura stopped, surprised by the familiar face. “It’s you.”

Before her stood the ninja Madara sent to find her when Izuna was first injured, the one who had pushed himself far beyond his limits to get her to Izuna before he died. His loyalty and determination had impressed Sakura back then, even if she was more focused on other things at the time. No wonder he was the one Madara chose to be her escort. 

“Hello again, Sakura-sama,” he greeted with a small smile. “I apologize for not properly introducing myself to you during our last meeting.” He gave her a much smaller bow than during their first interaction as he said, “I am Uchiha Saburo and I am at your service.”

Sakura waved off his formalities with an awkward smile. “Thank you, Saburo-san, but please, call me Sakura.”

Small smile still in place, Saburo kindly told her, “You’re to marry the clan head, Sakura-sama. Calling you by anything else would be impertinent.”

She shouldn’t have expected anything less, given the time they were living in, but Sakura still found herself disappointed by his response, though she didn’t know exactly why.

They made their way to the market first, where Sakura was able to look through carts filled with pottery, books, plants, and foods. The Uchiha market was nowhere near as large as the one she’d grown up with in Konoha, and wasn’t even the size of some markets she’d passed on her travels, but it did the job well enough. The carts were mostly run by women who happily chatted and called out to their clansmen, enticing them to buy this or that. 

Saburo soon turned into quite the tour guide, informing Sakura on who to buy the freshest fish from, who was willing to bargain and who wasn’t, and who had a knack for being able to sell you just the thing you weren’t looking for. 

There was a chill in the marketplace though, and no matter how hard she tried, Sakura just couldn’t shake the feeling of frost spreading up along her spine. It grew with every narrowed gaze she met. And every conversation that halted as soon as she walked up made the chill bite a bit harder into her back. 

After making a few small purchases, Sakura and Saburo made their way to their next destination. 

The Uchiha Apothecary was nothing to write home about. Hashirama hadn’t been kidding when he said the Uchiha were not healers. The Apothecary was a small structure, barely larger than the apartment Naruto had grown up in. Honestly, calling it a shack would be more apt. Most of the space was taken up by jugs filled with liquids of many colors, overgrown plants, crates filled with dried roots or finely crushed powders, and jars filled with herbs and spices. Behind the large counter was a doorway that must’ve led into another room. Sakura could only assume it was where medicines were made and the occasional surgery took place. 

Since no one had yet come to greet her, Sakura took her time inspecting the many wares littered about. It seemed that most of the medicines available were anti-inflammatory in nature, and she wondered if that was due to the strain the Sharingan placed on the optic nerves. Perhaps Madara would one day allow her to look at his eyes. She’d only ever examined Kakashi’s eye, and that had been an implant. A pure version of the Sharingan might prove to be a little more difficult, but Sakura was sure that she’d be able to do a better job helping any irritation or degradation than turmeric or hangekobokuto. 

She wondered if Madara trusted her enough yet to help him with something so intimate and integral to himself. If he didn’t, Sakura knew in her gut, he would come to do so soon. It was only a matter of time.

A man appeared from the back room. His eyes narrowed as he fully took Sakura in, his mouth convulsing strangely. “Ah, you must be Haruno-sama. Welcome.”

Saburo took a step closer to Sakura, his arms crossing over his chest. 

“How may I help you?” The clerk asked, his mouth settling into a thin, frail looking smile. 

“Actually, I was hoping it could be the other way around,” Sakura began to explain as she stepped closer to the clerk and the counter he was standing behind. “Before coming to the Uchiha clan, I traveled as a healer. It’s my profession, you see. I was hoping I could be of some use to you here.” Again, the man’s mouth began to twitch in a very peculiar fashion. Sakura dismissed it for now. “Perhaps I could help with the creation of teas and tonics? Or perhaps some salves? I was also thinking–”

“That is very kind of you, Haruno-sama,” the clerk finally interrupted, ”But I do not believe your services would be of much use here.”

Sakura didn’t miss the emphasis on her surname. She had figured that some clan members would have certain feelings about an all but nameless outsider marrying into the clan. It was almost unheard of in this time period. But she had thought, perhaps naively, that some clan members would have appreciated the skills she was bringing to the table, not to mention the fact that she had saved the life of their current heir. 

Wanting to give the clerk the benefit of the doubt, Sakura tried a more direct line of questioning. “Not of use or not wanted?”

“What does it matter? When the end result is the same. Now, unless you’d like to purchase anything, I should be getting back to work.”

It was more shocking than Sakura cared to admit, having a fellow healer deny her services based on nothing but petty spite. She really had been spoiled by a post-Tsunade Konoha, where people had been taught to recognize help as help, regardless of how it was presented. 

“Sakura-sama’s healing prowess is the reason Izuna-sama is still alive. ” Saburo cut in, his voice hard as steel as he tried to defend Sakura. “She is betrothed to our clan head and will soon become the Uchiha matriarch. You will do well to remember that.”

The clerk narrowed his eyes, but he simply replied, “As you say.”

“Let me see your surgery room,” Sakura said. “If you will not allow me to work directly, then at least let me do this.” It wouldn’t be much, but if Sakura could survey their supplies and levels of sanitation, she could give her input and help make small but necessary changes that would then help future injured clansmen. 

“That really is unnecessary, Haruno-sama.” The clerk shook his head, as one did with an unruly child. “We Uchiha are strong. We rarely ever have need for such procedures.”

The door behind them opened with a bang, and a young boy no older than ten was dragged in by two other boys. “Help!” 

Blood gushed down the smallest boy's leg. 

Not waiting for permission–or even thinking to ask for it–Sakura sprung into action. “Bring him back here,” she ordered.

The two boys, to their credit, didn’t hesitate and did as they were told. Sakura led them into the back room and was horrified to find the state of the surgery room. The floor was covered with soil from plants they were repotting. There was no surgical table in sight nor any instruments that Sakura could easily see. A couple of men were eating their lunch in the corner of the room, eyes wide with fear at the bloody mess that was brought in. 

“Saburo, find some fabric and start tearing it into rags for me. Place him here,” she pointed to the space on the floor that she had covered with a thread-bare sheet. It wasn’t anywhere near Sakura’s standards, but it would have to do. “Sir,” she addressed the clerk, “I’ll need you to boil some water and bring it here. Hurry now.” She turned her attention to the boy before her, noticing how pale his face was. Using a chakra scalpel to cut away his pant leg, she asked, “What happened?”

“Training accident,” one of the boys told her. 

“I’m sorry Izanagi,” the other boy said, his voice thick with grief and guilt. His eyes were glossy and now that his friend–Izanagi–was in the hands of healers, his mouth pulled back into a terrible grimace. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“With kunai or chakra?” Sakura asked the one boy who wasn’t turning into a watery mess. She cut through his pant leg and surveyed the damage. There was a lot of blood covering Izanagi’s pale skin, making it hard for Sakura to see the wound clearly. 

Bringing her the boiled water, the clerk saw the wound and hissed. “I’m afraid the leg will have to be amputated.” He turned to one of his fellow apothecaries and said, “Bring me the opium and a bit.” He looked back down at the leg and sighed, “This won’t be pretty.”

Sakura ignored the men behind her, instead keeping her gaze on Izanagi’s friend as she waited for his response to her question. 

“Kunai,” he told her. “Will he really lose his leg?”

“He will be fine.” Saburo brought her the torn fabric, which she immediately dipped into the boiling water. “Saburo, make sure those men stay out of my way.” 

“Yes, Sakura-sama.”

The apothecaries argued and moaned their displeasure, but Sakura blocked them and their nonsense out of her head. She used the now sterile rags to wash away most of the blood and saw that the kunai had nicked Izanagi’s femoral artery. He was lucky the cut was so small, any deeper and he would’ve already bled out. As it was, Sakura had to work fast. 

Pushing her chakra into his veins, Sakura encouraged the cells of the artery to sew itself back together. Once that was done, she split her focus on replicating his red blood cells to replace what he’d lost, and checking for any signs of blood poisoning or tetanus. There was a small build up of bacteria around the wound that took time to burn away, but once she felt certain the blood and veins were clear, she sealed up the skin and pulled her hands away. 

Looking at the boy who hadn’t stopped apologizing since bringing Izanagi into the Apothecary, Sakura asked him, “What’s your name?”

Tracks of tears tore their way through the dirt on his face. Snot leaked from his nose and hiccups escaped from his throat. Unable to take his eyes off of his friend, he told her, “Uchiha Taro.”

“Well Taro, I’m very happy to tell you that Izanagi is going to make a full recovery.”

That finally got the young boy to tear his eyes away and focus on Sakura. “Really?” He sniffed. “He’s not going to die–or–or lose his leg?”

“No,” Sakura gave him a soft smile and reached out to wipe the tears from his face with her sleeve. “He’s going to be just fine. I promise.”

After writing out a list of post-care instructions for Taro to take home with Izanagi, Sakura told them not to hesitate to come fetch her from the main house if his condition worsened or if anything else were to happen. Saburo helped place the now sleeping Izanagi on the tallest boy’s back and then he and Sakura took their leave. 

“That was very kind of you,” Saburo said when they were halfway home. “To save that boy even after how the clerk treated you.”

Sakura shrugged. “I meant what I said back there. I want to be of use to the clan. One rude person isn’t going to deter me from achieving that goal.”

Saburo’s answering hum sounded almost like a chuckle. “What a wonder you are, Sakura-sama.” 

Brows furrowing, Sakura asked, “What do you mean?”

Smiling wider than she had seen him do before, Saburo shook his head. “It’s nothing. We’re just lucky to have you, is all.”

---------

Sakura sighed as she pushed aside the medical scroll she was currently reading. Madara had gifted it to her earlier that day. He said he’d found it while out on his latest mission with Hashirama to what would eventually become Kusa. It had been the first of Madara’s gifts that Sakura had received in person, and she hadn’t been able to control the lovesick grin that had taken control of her lips. 

The scroll was small and didn’t contain information that Sakura didn’t already know, but that wasn’t the point. Madara and Hashirama had been out on a mission, busy with their goal of creating peace treaties and alliances and convincing established clans to join the village, but even with all that on his plate, he still found time to think of her. It had made Sakura deliriously happy. 

It was a novel sensation, being a priority. With Naruto, that had always been Sasuke. With Kakashi, his ghosts. Sasuke, his vengeance. Even her beloved teacher, Tsunade, prioritized the village and hospital over her. It was all understandable, of course. She didn’t begrudge any of them for it or think herself deserving of being placed first in their minds or hearts, but it was a very nice thing to experience all the same. 

Sometimes Sakura found herself wondering if she should be concerned about how easy it was to be with Madara. First by becoming his friend while working together, then becoming something more as betrotheds, and bit by bit, undeniable and as gentle as a river’s current, an unrivaled fondness was growing in her chest for the man that she had no doubt would one day soon bloom into love. Occasionally she would still have a nightmare or two of the war, of the Madara from her time with the resurrection cracks on his face and the darkness in his eyes. But even when she awoke covered in sweat and a scream caught in her throat, she could separate that Madara from her Madara. Perhaps Sakura should be more concerned with how her brain was compartmentalizing everything she had lived through, but instead she chose not to look too closely at it. 

Looking around her room, she sighed again and focused her mind on what was truly bothering her; the Uchiha clan. It had been almost a week since she had healed Izanagi’s leg and still the majority of clansmen were as standoffish and frosty to her as ever. There were exceptions, of course, the attendants in the house were as friendly as they could be, and Saburo had become quite relaxed around her–and Izanagi and his friends had come to give her proper thanks just yesterday, but overall the clan was still very much anti-Sakura. 

They were all, of course, polite when she bought things from the market or when she accompanied Madara and the use of small talk was required, but almost everyone treated her with a level of detachment that made Sakura wonder if they’d ever properly accept her. The idea of acceptance irked something deep within her. Not since she was twelve years old and chasing after Sasuke did she care about things like acceptance and fitting in. Or, well, she did a little, but not to that extent. She was an exemplary medic and an amazing kunoichi, dammit! She wasn’t about to let some snobby clan make her feel inferior just because she didn’t share some of their DNA. 

Giving herself a firm nod, Sakura decided it was time to fall back on her old strategy. She had been too excited, too naive, and too optimistic after agreeing to marry Madara. Based on his warm welcome into his life, she had made the incorrect assumption that the rest of the clan would follow suit. She needed a new approach to win over the Uchiha, and why fix something that wasn’t broken. Instead of returning to the Apothecary, or trying to engage anyone from the market in conversation, Sakura would let them come to her. 

As a traveling medic, she had needed to look like someone not trying to look for work, and with the clan now, she needed to look like someone not trying to gain their approval. 

There was a knock at the door, followed by someone calling, “Sakura-sama.” The door opened a moment later, revealing Uchiha Miyoko, Sakura’s new handmaid. Madara had insisted upon hiring her, stating that it was expected for a person of her position. It felt silly, but the girl was only a few years younger than Sakura herself and was kind enough, if a bit shy. Miyoko actually reminded her of Hinata a bit back when they were younger.

“Sakura-sama,” Miyoko bowed in greeting. Just like with Saburo, Miyoko refused to drop the title. “Izuna-sama is awake and asking for you. I’ve told the cook to begin warming up his dinner. Should I have him start on yours as well?”

“Thank you, Miyoko. I’ll join Izuna in a moment. As for dinner,” Sakura trailed off, wondering. Madara hadn’t been sure when he’d return this evening as he and Madara had business that would take up the majority of the day. She’d prefer to wait and eat with him, but there was a chance that he would eat with Hashirama if they worked late enough. “If it’s not too much trouble, have the cook wait an hour before starting my dinner.”

Miyoko nodded, “Of course, miss. Is there anything else you need from me?”

“No, Miyoko, thank you. I should be able to fend for myself the rest of the night.”

Sakura grabbed a handful of new books she’d picked up the other day in the market and headed towards Izuna’s room. She found him propped up against his pillows, a scowl on his face as he glared up at the ceiling, his hands folded over his belly. 

“Should we continue with The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter ? Or would you prefer we try something else? Miyoko told me good things about The Woman of the Snow when she saw it.”

Izuna’s scowl deepened, “Who’s Miyoko?”

Sakura placed the books beside Izuna for him to browse while she gathered the necessary medical supplies. “My handmaid, you’ve seen her. She’s been here for nearly two weeks now.” 

Izuna merely grunted.

Turning back towards her patient, Sakura waved her hand towards him, silently telling Izuna to disrobe. “How’s the pain today? Same as this morning?”

As Sakura inspected his wound, she asked several more questions. Izuna answered them easily enough, even if boredom leached into his tone. Eventually someone brought Izuna’s broth, which he glared at as if it had insulted his ancestors. They started reading The Woman in the Snow , which, based on the relaxed state of his mouth, Izuna was enjoying much more than the story of Kaguya-hime.

Sakura’s dinner came, causing Izuna to beg her for a bite. He reached out with hands like a toddler and laughed good naturedly when Sakura slapped them away. 

“So cruel to your brother,” he teased, grabbing the fabric over his heart as if he’d been pierced there. “I’ll die of a broken heart.”

Rolling her eyes, Sakura tried–and failed–not to smile at his antics. “Well we can’t have that now can we? How about this–you tell me your favorite meal, and I’ll make sure it’s the first thing you eat when you’re able.”

Appeased, Izuna agreed and they chose another story for Sakura to read aloud. They were halfway through the book, both their dishes having long been cleared away, when Madara returned. 

“Brother!” Izuna smiled, brighter than anything Sakura had seen before. His eyes were half-lidded and his words slurred a bit with the early signs of exhaustion. Still, he gained a second wind with the presence of his favorite person. “You’ve returned from the viper’s nest.”

Madara chuckled and came to sit on Izuna’s other side. Brushing back his brother’s bangs, Madara said, “I hope you weren’t too much trouble for Sakura today.”

“I was a delight, thank you very much. Isn’t that right?” He turned his dark eyes to Sakura.

“He was,” Sakura agreed. Then, because she couldn’t see a reason not to, she teased, “It was a lovely change of pace.”

Izuna scoffed but didn’t argue. 

“Did you eat dinner yet?” Sakura asked Madara, her eyes quickly evaluating him for any noticeable scratches or scrapes. Besides looking a little sweaty and dirty, he looked perfectly fine. “I can make something for you.” The cook had left for the evening, but Sakura knew there’d be enough ingredients in the kitchen leftover for a simple soup.

Madara shook his head. “I already ate, but thank you.”

“What all was decided on today, then?” Izuna asked as he struggled to keep his eyes open. “Go on and tell us.”

Sitting up straighter, almost preening with excitement, Madara told them, “I do have some exciting news, actually. We finally decided on a name.” A small, almost shy smile snuck onto his lips. “Konohagakure.”

“Village Hidden in the Leaves,” Izuna hummed as he tested the name on his lips. “I like it.”

Madara continued on with his tales of the day, expressing his relief over the fact that the Nara clan had officially accepted their offer to join the village, and that several other clans planned to join as well, some moving from as far as the islands of modern day Mist. They were mostly busy building the village’s infrastructure. With Hashirama’s Wood Release, it sped the process up tremendously, but he was only one man and they needed to house many people. Tobirama had been a pebble in his shoe all day, arguing about this and that, such as where to place each clan or how many houses would be needed for the civilians that were bound to seek refuge. Almost nothing could be agreed upon between the two men. 

Izuna’s eyes fluttered closed at some point during Madara’s story, his grunts of acknowledgement and snide remarks about the Senju trailing off into soft snores. Watching the steady rise and fall of Izuna’s chest, Sakura decided to call it a night for the younger Uchiha and began to remove some of his pillow so he’d lay flat on his futon. Madara followed her out on silent feet.

“Would you join me for a walk?” Madara asked, his eyes warm and wholly focused on her. He held out a hand to her in offering. 

Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, Sakura easily accepted his hand. “I’d love to.”

---------

It was a few days later when Miyoko found Sakura alone in the kitchen as she crushed roots and herbs down to almost nothing. Izuna was resting in his room and Madara was off with Hashirama once again, leaving Sakura with an abundance of time on her hands. With that time, she had created a little Apothecary of her own. So far she had filled nearly fifty jars with different types of medicinal powders, made several blends of healing teas, and started converting an empty storehouse into a greenhouse so she could grow her own plants. 

Madara had gifted her with a new set of knives, each one sharper than the other, after his last overnight adventure. Sakura wasn’t sure if he was doing this out of a sense of guilt for having to leave her so often, or if he just took pleasure in seeing the goofy grin that never failed to appear on her face whenever he surprised her. Regardless, Sakura had been sure to show him her appreciation with an assault of kisses. 

The knives laid off to the side, stored in a leather knife roll, just next to an opened journal. Another project idea Sakura had the other night was to record as much of her medical knowledge as she could. While she couldn’t document all of her knowledge–not yet, anyway–she figured it could one day be of help to someone, somewhere. If not, then at least it gave her something to do. 

Miyoko cleared her throat gently to catch Sakura’s attention. Looking up at her handmaid, she asked, “Yes, Miyoko? What is it?” 

“I’m sorry to bother you, Sakura-sama. It’s only–I was hoping you could look at my uncle’s back, if it isn’t too much trouble,” the young girl said, her cheeks pink as she avoided Sakura’s gaze. “He’s a farmer, you see, and his livelihood depends on his ability to work. Only recently,” she trailed off, “recently he’s been struggling.”

“Of course,” Sakura replied easily. “Would he be alright with me examining him? I wouldn’t want to create more strain on his body with my presence.” She thought of how stiff the apothecary always became, whenever he saw her in the market. If Miyoko’s uncle had a similar response to her, then she’d be doing more harm than good. 

Looking more than a little confused, the girl shook her head. “Oh no, miss! I’m sure he’d be grateful for someone of your caliber looking after him. Only,” she bit her lip, “I don’t have much to pay you with. I’ve got a few coins put away, and I’m sure that over time I could–”

“The price is negotiable.” Sakura replied automatically. Shaking her head, she amended, “Besides, there’s no need, Miyoko.” She bit her lip, wanting to say that by marrying Madara, her healing gifts were at the disposal of the clan, but she wasn’t sure if a statement like that would be well received. Instead, she went with, “Consider it repayment for helping me all these past few weeks while I’ve stayed here.”

“Oh no, Sakura-sama, I insist.” Miyoko shook her head quite aggressively. “Taking care of you is my job and Madara-sama pays me well to do so. It wouldn’t be right to treat that as a tradable favor.”

Sakura sighed softly. Uchiha’s and their pride. “Perhaps an invitation to dinner, then? Along with your uncle if he’s feeling up to it.”

“Dinner, Sakura-san?” 

“Dinner,” Sakura nodded. “Most nights I eat with Madara or Izuna, or both. Or neither.” She shrugged, trying not to think about the seeds of loneliness that had buried themselves deep within her bones and that ached more now when she had people to laugh and enjoy time with than when she had no one at her side. The sensation had left Sakura more confused than anything else, and she did her best to push those feelings away.

Trying to appeal to Miyoko’s humor, she added, “It’d be a nice change of pace to eat with someone who didn’t scowl the entire meal.”

Miyoko let out a laugh, though it was a quiet thing that didn’t last long. “Well I’m not sure my uncle will make for better company, but we’d be happy to host you. Would tonight work?”

Sakura nodded, “Tonight’s just fine. We can leave after I’ve helped Izuna and changed his bandages.” 

Izuna had been drowsier than usual today. There was no sign of infection or other maladies, making Sakura suspect he’d been over exerting himself when she wasn’t looking and causing his body to require more rest to make up for it. She’d talk to him about it tomorrow when he was hopefully more coherent. 

After a few more hours of work, and calling on Saburo to meet her for a quick escort through the market and to Miyoko’s home, the two women made it safely to their destination well before sunset with their arms full of groceries. 

“Uncle!” Miyoko called out. After shuffling off her shoes, she made her way to the kitchen with her groceries. “I’ve brought someone to look at your back!”

Sakura followed along quietly, observing the household discreetly. It was the first time she’d been allowed into another Uchiha’s house. It was much different than Madara’s mansion, though that was to be expected when comparing the dwellings of the clan head versus a common farmer. The layout wasn’t very much different than other homes she’d been invited to while traveling, though this one was decorated with copious amounts of Uchiha fans and looked worn and tried in a way that implied many generations of Miyoko’s family had lived here before her uncle. 

The small kitchen was attached to the dining room, and Miyoko puttered around, pulling up pots and pans to start on their dinner. She took a teapot down from where it was hanging on a hook and filled it with water for their tea. 

“Uncle?” Miyoko called again once the water was over the fire. She walked further into the back of the home, past the small bathing room and into the bedroom where her uncle laid on his futon with a frown on his face.

“Mah, Miyoko,” the older man grumbled, “I told you not to bother. My back will be as good as new with a few more days of rest.” He eyed Sakura as she walked in behind his niece. “What’s this? A witch?”

“Uncle!” Miyoko chastised as she began to close his windows for privacy. “Show some respect. This is Sakura-sama, renowned medic and Madara-sama’s betrothed.”

“ You’re the one that surly cousin of ours has decided to spend his life with?” He snorted. “What did you do in your past life to deserve that?” Then, he eyed her from head to toe and said, “It’ll sure be interesting to see how dominant the Uchiha genes are against yours. Can you imagine, Miyoko? An Uchiha with pink hair? Hah!”

Miyoko winced and threw Sakura an apologetic grimace. “Uncle, Sakura-sama has been kind enough to examine you. The least you could do is hold your tongue.”

Miyoko’s uncle waved a hand at her lazily. “Oh, Miyoko, I only tease. You know that. Besides, if Sakura-sama here is serious about marrying into our family, she should know what she’s getting into.”

Doing her best to keep her hands from balling into fists and giving the old man a good whack on the head, Sakura plastered a professional smile onto her face. “Why don’t you tell me what’s been bothering you.”

Miyoko excused herself to start making dinner as Sakura listened to her patient tell her of occasional back pain that could vary between a mild irritant and debilitating pain that sometimes caused one of his legs to stop working. After a quick push of chakra into his body, Sakura determined his problem to be a herniated disk. 

Helping him pull down his yukata to his waist and roll over onto his stomach, Sakura placed her hand on the base of his spine and began the process of pushing the affected disk back into place and healing the exterior casing that had cracked. 

“So, Sakura-sama,” he began as silence had settled in the room, “is that hair color of yours hereditary, or a mutation?”

Tutting, Sakura asked, “Worried I might pollute your clan’s genes?”

“Mah,” he shrugged, “we need new genes every now and then to survive. We know that. Consider me curious.” He paused, but Sakura waited, something telling her he had more to say. “Your coloring is very beautiful, Sakura-sama. Pink isn’t a color I’m used to seeing. Now red, that’s a color I see all the time, almost as much as black.” 

He chuckled a humorless laugh, and Sakura felt it rattle through her head. He was being much nicer to her now. She wondered if it was because he was on his stomach, not looking at her, or because of her chakra stealing his pain away. Maybe it was a secret third thing. 

Feeling a little less antagonized, Sakura felt some tension leave her shoulders as she told him, “It’s genetic, from my father’s side, though his was paler than mine.” She was about to tell him she was finished with his back, but then paused. “I’m sorry, I never caught your name. Miyoko only referred to you as uncle.”

“I’ll be your uncle soon enough, I don’t mind if you start calling me that now. If you really need to know, though, it’s Masaru.”

Sakura smiled. He was showing her kindness, in his own way, and she’d accept what she could get. Pulling her hands back, she nodded and said, “Well, you’re as good as new Masaru-ojisan.”

Pushing himself to lean up on one arm, Masaru stuck out his tongue as he moved this way and that, testing Sakura’s words. Nodding his approval, he sat up properly and readjusted his yukata. “So,” he clapped his hands together, “what’s for dinner?”

---------

“Where to today, Sakura-sama?” Saburo asked. In his hands was a small bag filled with sunflower seeds that he was practically inhaling. “Back to the market?”

Sakura shook her head. “No, today we’re heading out towards the fields to forage for some plants that I’ll need to make antidotes.” 

Saburo stopped in his tracks, his hand paused on his journey towards his mouth with the seeds still pinched between his fingers. “The fields?” He asked, a line forming between his brows. “Outside of the compound, you mean?” 

“Yes,” Sakura answered with a raised brow. 

“Have you asked Madara-sama for his permission?”

A vein in Saura’s forehead twitched with irritation and she had to take a deep breath before responding. “Madara is my betrothed, not my master. I don’t need his permission.”

“That’s not what I meant, Sakura-sama,” Saburo shook his head vigorously, his eyes growing wide. “I just meant that it might not be safe and Madara-sama might not like you going outside the walls alone.”

“I’m not alone. I have you.”

“Yes,” Saburo said slowly, “and that’s fine for when we’re in the village, but–”

“I’m going with or without you,” Sakura cut him off, already continuing on her path. “You can either come with me and keep me company or run back to Madara to get his permission.” Sakura knew her capabilities and wasn’t in the mood to try and prove herself to Saburo. It was one thing for Madara to request she have him around to watch her back, it was something else entirely to have a baby sitter. She wasn’t some delicate flower that needed to be sheltered and hidden away. She’d lived alone for almost two years before coming to live with the Uchiha and she’d survived just fine, thank you very much. 

The sound of Saburo’s footsteps hurrying behind her reached her ears and soon enough he was walking astride her once again. His bag of seeds had been hidden away, his posture and gaze had turned sharper. Sakura almost wanted to tell him to relax, that he’d be safe with her, but she doubted he’d appreciate it at the moment. 

“We need to be quick,” he told her, the furrow of his brows deepening. “Even with the truce between Senju and Uchiha, there’s no telling who we may run into. Anyone with a grudge against the Uchiha may decide to take their revenge out on us.”

Barely suppressing a sigh, Sakura agreed. “It shouldn’t take me more than an hour to find what I need.”

“And you’re sure the market won’t have these plants? Or the Apothecary?”

“I’m sure.” She’d already checked. 

Saburo groaned, but seemed to accept his fate and continued on at Sakura’s side in silence. 

Miyoko had been the one to tell her about this field when she’d caught Sakura grumbling under her breath about the lack of supplies against poisons. The best item she could find within the whole compound was charcoal, and that could only do so much. If they found themselves up against a poison expert like Sasori, they’d be devastated. Miyoko had suggested Sakura take a look at the plants in this field to see if it had what she needed. If it didn’t, then she’d have to wait months for the finalizations of Konoha to try and buy ingredients from other clans–if they were even willing to sell them–and patience was never one of Sakura’s strengths. 

Once they arrived, Sakura slid the bamboo basket off her back and waded through the tall grasses in search of her treasures. Saburo stalked off, telling her he’d monitor the perimeter, and Sakura had hummed in acknowledgment. This field would be a modest start when it came to antidotes. There was plenty of jewel weed and dock plant littered about which were always helpful with rashes, and she could cut some bark off of some trees to make tea with, but soon she’d need to do more. 

Fire Country was home to a great many dangerous creatures, all that could be used to create terrible weapons. She’d need to milk certain snakes and spiders and collect slime from several frogs and toads to feel properly prepared. In a pinch, Sakura could always extract the poison from a victim’s bloodstream and use a sample to reverse engineer an antidote, but that process was timely and chakra draining. Having pre-made antidotes was a much more sustainable method. 

She’d filled her basket halfway when she felt it; eyes on the back of her head. Spinning around with her hands already raised and curled into fists, Sakura found herself staring across the field at Senju Tobirama. 

Swearing up a storm in her head, Sakura tried to keep her voice level as she asked, “Where’s Saburo?”

Tilting his head to the side, Tobirama’s red eyes narrowed. “If you mean your guard, he’s fine. I’ve stuck him in a genjutsu and will release him when I’m finished here.”

Knowing she’d already be dead if that was what he wanted–she was good, but she wasn’t Nidaime good–she asked, “What do you want?”

“I wanted to meet you, to see if you were all they said you were.” He took a step closer, his eyes pinning her in place. “My brother speaks very highly of you, you know. The miracle worker who saved Uchiha Izuna from death’s door and the woman who thawed Uchiha Madara’s frozen heart. You seem too good to be true.”

It took every ounce of Sakura’s control not to take a step back for every step forward Tobirama took towards her. She knew that if she fled he’d only catch her, and she wasn’t sure what would happen then. Still, she wouldn’t stand there helpless either. Shifting her weight onto the balls of her feet, Sakura readied herself to dodge. Drawing chakra into her hands, she also prepared to reap devastation across this bit of land in an attempt to survive. 

“I’ve heard many interesting things about you, Haruno Sakura. It would appear you’re second to none in your field and yet you come from no known clan.” He stopped only a few feet away from her. “You’re a good person, you help whoever you can, whenever you can for little or no money. So I find myself asking, why is this bright and wonderful woman, with no political affiliations, marrying into such a horrible clan?”

“Excuse me?” Trepidation gave way to anger at his question, leading Sakura to speak without thinking. “What business is it of yours?”

Senju Tobirama was a man Sakura had grown up admiring. Second Hokage of Konoha, he was credited with the creation of hundreds of jutsus, Konoha’s ANBU, the ninja academy, and even the chuunin exams. He set the example that other hidden villages followed when it came to running themselves. He was a giant among shinobi, and yet here he was, asking Sakura why she was marrying Madara. It didn’t make any sense. 

His eyes flashed–with what, Sakura didn’t know–and he looked her over from top to bottom. “Has Madara told you yet, about the Curse of Hatred that plagues the Uchiha clan?”

A shiver ran straight down Sakura’s spine. She’d heard that phrase only once before, during the war against the Madara in the future. She hadn’t fully understood it at the time, and now she was ready to dismiss it immediately. Curses didn’t exist. 

“To activate their kekkei genkai they must experience extremely painful traumas,” Tobirama explained, taking her silence as a no. “The power of the Sharingan eventually consumes them, leading them to do anything within their power to show off their superiority. If you marry into this clan, it will surely claim you as a victim as well. You should save yourself while you still can.”

Sakura scoffed, causing Tobirama to blink in surprise. “Save myself from what? Superstitions?” Feeling emboldened by her anger and more confident that Tobirama wouldn’t kill her, Sakura placed her hands on her hips and raised a single brow. “All that just sounds like the most anti-Uchiha propaganda I’ve ever heard. Don’t you think this is just a symptom of your own prejudice?”

“It’s true,” Tobirama persisted, his jaw tightening. “All Uchiha are bound by the same fate. I’ve never met a single clansman who could prove otherwise.”

Sakura thought about all the Uchihas she’d met in her lifetime. All Sharingan users she knew had activated it through trauma, yes, and Sasuke and Itachi both fell victim to paths of vengeance, but if Sakura had to guess, that had more to do with the actual trauma they’d lived through than any supposed curse. Madara and Izuna were just as sane as anyone else she’d ever met. Masaru was cranky with age, but sweet in his own way, and Miyoko could barely raise her voice at her uncle, much less assert her superiority over another person. 

“Well,” Sakura said dryly, “I imagine it’s hard to get to know a person when you’re only ever meeting them on the battlefield.” Pausing to wet her lips, Sakura considered her words for only a moment before adding, “I’ve heard of you too, Senju Tobirama. You’re a genius, there’s no denying that. In fact, I doubt there’s a mind alive in the world right now that could compare to yours.”

Tobirama’s jaw slackened just enough to lose the tight tendon of tension that was pulsating against the skin. His brows furrowed with what Sakura could only imagine was confusion. 

“But you have a lot to learn when it comes to human nature and empathy.” Sakura continued, unable to stop the sharing of her thoughts. “I think that if you were to try and put yourself in Madara’s shoes, to think as he does for just a short amount of time, you’d realize that the two of you have much more in common than you’d ever thought possible.”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Tobirama said immediately and without any hesitation. “I know all I need to know about Uchiha Madara and his clan. There is nothing more for me to learn.”

It was no wonder that the Uchiha felt ostracized by Konoha, if this was how their leadership spoke about them. 

Sakura could see that there was no arguing with him. He was too stubborn and set in his ways to think any differently. For now, at least. Perhaps as the two men continued working together towards the common goal of Konoha, and with the addition of Izuna this time around, opinions could be changed. 

Tobirama left not long after that, and Saburo arrived almost right after with wide, panicked eyes and a heaving chest. He’d demanded that they return to the Uchiha compound, and Sakura agreed, not wanting to press her luck. Saburo stayed by her side until Madara returned home, at which time he fell into a deep bow to his patriarch and begged forgiveness. 

Madara’s eyes bled red as Saburo told him how he was trapped in a genjutsu and didn’t realize anything was amiss until Tobirama had already left. Madara dismissed him with a wave of his hand and Saburo didn’t waste any time fleeing the house.

“I’ll kill him” Madara hissed, the tomoes in his eyes spinning rapidly. “He’s tested my patience one too many times.” Swiftly, he prowled the halls, grabbing weapons and armor as he went. 

Sakura trailed behind, grabbing at his sleeve in an attempt to slow him down. “Madara, please, just wait. It’s okay–”

“Nothing about this is ok!” He growled, turning to bare his teeth at her. “And what were you thinking? Leaving the compound like that without my permission?”

“ Permission? ” Sakura squawked. He was treating her like some prisoner! And over what? A conversation? “Madara, you need to calm down. I’m fine–”

“ You could have died! ” He roared. Then, quick as lightning, she was pulled against Madara’s chest. His arms held her as close as possible without crushing her. Tremors rippled through his body, bleeding into her own, as his body tried to wrestle with his blinding rage and unadulterated fear.

Hiding his face into the crook of her neck, his voice was barely more than a broken whisper as he said again, “You could have died . And there was nothing I could have done to stop it. I’ve lost so many loved ones already, Sakura,” he admitted with a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I can stand to lose another one.”

Raising her hands to embrace him back, Sakura hugged him tight. Tears pooled behind her eyes at his confession. She hadn’t meant to scare him. She hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. And what made it worse was that she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to comfort him now that they were here. She couldn’t promise him nothing would ever happen to her. That would ring empty and false. What could she apologize for? Not for leaving, her pride wouldn’t allow for that. 

All she could do was hold onto him as tightly as he was holding onto her and whisper, “I’m here. I’m still here,” into his ear. 

He nodded against her neck. They were pressed so close she could hear the thickness of his swallow. Sakura rubbed a hand up and down his back, her fingers following along the ridges of his spine, hoping Madara found the motion soothing. They stayed like that until his shaking subsided, and then stayed like that for a while longer. 

If there was a curse on the Uchiha clan, it wasn’t one of hate, but of love. Life in the warring states period wasn’t easy for anyone. Madara’s fear of losing his loved ones was one founded in reality. Sakura would have to be more mindful of that in the future. She wouldn’t budge on her autonomy or independence, but she could do a better job keeping Madara apprised of her movements, especially now that she knew she’d caught the attention of Senju Tobirama. 

“Come,” Sakura eventually said, pulling away so she could clasp his hand in hers. She pulled him towards Izuna’s room, hoping that having two of his precious people within arms reach of each other might help calm his nerves. “Let me see to Izuna, and then we can spend the remainder of the day with each other.”

She intertwined their fingers for extra measure and was glad to see a small smile appear on his face as his eyes returned to black. 

Giving her hand a squeeze, Madara leaned in to kiss Sakura’s forehead. “I would like that very much.”

#madasaku #madara uchiha #sakura haruno #naruto #fanfic #romantic fanfic #uchiha madara #haruno sakura

[kintrash413]

socialstuck fic given... recent events :3c

Reddit would consider Tumblr… a friend. maybe. As far as he could tell, Tumblr didn’t think of him at all- embarrassing, considering the small but existent pedestal Reddit held him on but whatever. Reddit, Tumblr, and 4Chan seemed to be the last anonymous sites out there, as far as Reddit knew. and 4Chan was beyond antisocial so once again, that just left Tumblr.

Reddit’s home was collapsing. The carefully built in technology he’d curated over so many years to help everyone he could was getting outlawed, and as a result every part of his home that relied on it was collapsing. Which was… most of it, really.

But… Tumblr wasn’t open to taking in people for charity, he’d made that very clear when Twitter was in an eerily similar situation. And those two used to be matesprites. What hope did Reddit have in comparison?

All this to say that Reddit had been standing outside of Tumblr’s door for nearly an hour, and it was starting to snow. Worst he could say is no, right? Well, that wasn’t true. He could say ‘ew’.

Taking a deep breath and brushing the powdered snow off his shoulders, Reddit knocked.

The door slammed open, and Reddit was greeted with the blade of an axe to his face. He screamed and backed up, hands shooting up innocently. “I’m sorry I’m sorry! I’ll-”

“Oh.” Tumblr lowered the weapon, placing it against the wall. “Thought you were another bot. What are you doing here?”

“Um…”

Tumblr took a step out into the cold, shivering slightly under his suit jacket and eyeing Reddit intensely. “You’re not a bot, right? What’s five (5) times five (5)?”

“...25?”

Tumblr nodded, absconding the single step back inside. “Firefox, it’s cold out here. Come in, dude.”

Well, Reddit was allowed inside for the moment, and he gratefully took it, kicking his boots against the welcome mat as he stepped in. “I don’t know if you heard but, Spez-”

“Oh I heard,” Tumblr spat as he shut the door. “Another fucking corporation fucking over disabled people to make a quick buck.” He shook his head in disgust. “Can I offer you a drink?”

“Sure?”

Tumblr headed into the kitchen without another word, and after a moment of standing in place stupidly, Reddit decided the best course of action was to follow a few feet behind.

“congrats on the protesting, by the way,” Tumblr stated as he rummaged through the cupboards. “Takes guts to cost a corpo that much money.”

"th-thanks." Reddit twiddled with his thumbs and hid his smile in his hoodie. "but, because of all that my house is… well it's a mess. it's falling apart, the lights aren't working, and the locks have all been changed so…"

Tumblr sighed, pulling a carton of some strong-smelling drink from the cupboard and pouring two cups. "What is it with everyone coming to me when faced with homelessness? I'm honoured, maybe?"

"I mean- I don't think Spez will keep this shit up I just need a place to crash until… if you have the space, I mean."

Tumblr pushed the drink into Reddits hands, just listening for now as he leaned against the counter and downed his own drink in seconds.

Reddit took a single sip before immediately deciding never to do that again. "bluh… anyway, i, uh…" Reddit spoke quickly, as if that would make the next sentence any less embarrassing. "I enjoy a lot of your content and made quite a few snoos after you so I should be able to acclimate-"

"ah, stop you flatter me," Tumblr made a show of fanning his cheeks dramatically, playful grin making Reddit feel all sorts of pale things he was desperately trying to ignore. "multiple? I knew about r/Tumblr but… oh, I guess there's r/CuratedTumblr and r/196, practically. and... r/TumblrCringe."

Reddit had no excuses for that.

"but I know a lot of my bigger users carry fame across your platforms as well so clearly you've got good taste." Tumblr hummed thoughtfully. "I'll think about it. where are you staying right now?"

well, a few minutes ago he was staying outside of Tumblrs door. and before he walked over he was living on his own porch leaning against the locked door. but mostly he was living nowhere and bouncing around to distract himself from the fact that he was living nowhere.

"oh," was Tumblrs subdued response to Reddits silence. "how long do you think you'll…?"

"48 hours, hopefully."

"well… that's not long at all. I got a couch you can sleep on until then and… you're a hell of a lot more respectful than Twitter was…" he patted Reddit on the arm with a smile. "let me show you around."

Reddit let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding before following Tumblr further inside the house. "thanks."

"not a problem! stay as long as you need."

#ill post this to Ao3... later #writing #mine #short story #my writing #socialstuck #socialstuck tumblr #socialstuck reddit

[justagalwhowrites]

ugh I freaking love qz Joel. Thinking about spending time with him in that crappy little apartment makes me akdkfkfheh. Like that crappy little apartment being your little haven. The world outside went to shit and people suck and everything is ugly and terrible. But being with Joel in these 4 little walls, you’re happier than you’ve ever been.

Cuddling with him on that creaky, too small bed. Lounging on the worn out sofa in his arms while reading or listening to music, watching the rain fall outside and gossiping with Frank over the radio. Joels arms around you as much as possible because he always wants to be touching you in some way. (And you know he’s always listening to the gossip!)

Forcing him to play board games with you. Half the pieces are missing and sometimes you have no idea what the rules are but you just make up your own.

Trying to make cute dinners with old, out of date cans and trying to bake bread and even though it’s a bit too hard and chewy, Joel eats it all anyway because you made it yourself.

And on some nights, when he’s feeling especially sappy, you dance around the living room together. Some simple swaying, with his arms tight around you and his nose buried in your neck and your chin on his shoulder. There’s no music because the neighbours would be too annoyed but you don’t need it. All you need is Joel, and all he needs js you.

Yeah, this crappy little apartment really isn’t so bad. 🥺

I love qz Joel

OMG QZ Joel in love ❤️

November 2013

Life in the QZ was still hard.

That was a constant. You still worked long hours. Joel still made dangerous runs outside the walls to get by. Things were deteriorating and FEDRA was... well, FEDRA.

But in so many ways, life for you was better than it had ever really been.

Yes, you were missing many of the trappings of the life you'd once dreamed of having. You didn't have your own restaurant where you designed the menu or a four bedroom house with a tree that had a tire swing in the back yard or the ability to go lay on the beach for a romantic vacation.

But you had more than that in all the ways that mattered. You had Joel.

He moved in with you more than three years ago now and you hadn't expected it to be all that different. You spent most nights together, anyway, how different could it be?

But it was. Coming home to find Joel there every day, his presence a constant comfort, was different. Lying on the couch, bodies close together as you read or listened to music or watched a movie that Joel brought back from one of his trips outside the QZ. Cooking dinner with what you could abscond with from work. Holding each other close in the small, worn bed when the power was out in the dead of winter, warm and safe together. It was all different.

The way you got to know Joel was different, too. Beyond the odd conversations that had made up most of your relationship outside of fucking, you got to know him the intimate way you can really only know someone you live life alongside.

The small irritants and the simple pleasures, the preferences and the pet peeves. He was yours to know this way, in a way no one else got to. It was something you treasured, this closeness you'd never had with another person, something that you thought might just be worth surviving the end of the world.

It was lightly snowing when Joel got back from his latest smuggling run. He was good about sticking to his return estimates - you worried when he didn't come back when expected and he didn't like being away from you anymore than you liked him being away from you - and you were working on the QZ version of chicken pot pie (all canned but what can you do) for when he got home.

Joel came in the door in the door, shaking snow off his coat, just as you were putting the top crust over the pie, pinching the dough together to seal it.

"Hey Baby Doll," he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, his nose pressing into your neck and breathing you in before planting a kiss there. "Missed you."

You turned around in his hold and wrapped your arms around his neck, smiling and kissing him deeply.

"Missed you, too," you smiled against him, kissing him again. "Seems like you came home in one piece this time."

"Just sore," he kissed you again and again, smaller pecks this time.

"Not so sore that I can't fuck your brains out later, right?" You teased, pressing your front against his, nuzzling his nose with your own.

"Baby," he smiled a little. "I ever say no to that, I'm going to need you to take me out back and kill me. Definitely an early sign of infection..."

You laughed and he kissed you one more time.

"Gonna get cleaned up," he said. "But brought you somethin.'"

"Oooo," you smiled, turning back to the pie. His arms tightened around you. "Go get cleaned up so I can thank you properly."

He laughed a little and kissed your temple before going to shower. You knew he'd trim his mustache and beard after, that he'd try to clean the sink of the little hairs but you'd undoubtably find a few along the edges. You liked knowing these things about him, being the keeper of all things Joel.

The two of you had dinner - sitting beside each other instead of across so you could lean your head on his shoulder when just being next to him wasn't enough - before you moved to the couch and Joel plopped his overstuffed pack on the coffee table.

"No idea how well some of this is gonna work," he cautioned. "Been more than 10 years. But figured you'd want to give it a shot..."

He opened the pack and pulled out strands of Christmas lights. You gasped, hands covering your mouth and eyes going wide.

"Joel!"

"Hang on," he said, still going through the bag. He pulled out a VHS tape, several bags of pills, a book, setting them all aside. He seemed to find what he was looking for then, something wrapped in an old shirt. He unwound it before handing it over to you, a large scented candle in a jar. You opened it and breathed deep, the smell of pine almost overwhelming you. You were about to say something else, but he cut you off.

"Just sit tight, Baby Doll," he smiled. "Gettin' too worked up too quick..."

He kept digging until he found another shirt, this one lumpier than the last. He carefully unwound it, pulling out about half a dozen ornaments and setting them out on the table.

"Don't think I can manage to get you a tree, even a fake one," he said, cupping the back of his neck. "But... well, you always talked about missin' Christmas and it's gettin' to be that time...."

You flung yourself at him, your arms going around his neck and he had to catch you to keep both of you from winding up on the floor. He laughed, holding onto you as you kissed every part of his skin you could reach.

"This is the best," you kissed him. "Present." Kiss. "Ever." Kiss.

He laughed again.

"Figured we can decorate once you figure out what you want to do with it..."

"I have an idea!" You said, stretching your legs down until your feet were on the ground again and you could pull back enough to look at his face. "Can we try it? Tonight? Please?"

He kissed you.

"Already?"

You nodded and he laughed.

"Alright, Baby. Anything you want."

Joel helped you string the lights up in a zig-zag pattern that resembled a tree on the wall and you plugged them in, almost giddy when you discovered that they still lit up. You draped the extras around the living room, a multicolored glow coming over the peeling wallpaper. You hung the ornaments from the tree-shaped strand and moved the coffee table before building a nest of cushions and pillows and blankets on the living room floor. You put on a jazz record - not Christmas but close enough - and lit the candle before turning off all the lights in the house. You squealed - you couldn't hold it in - and Joel laughed, the two of you settling in on pile on the living room floor by the glow of the Christmas lights.

"I do good?" he asked, a lightly teasing edge to his voice.

"You did amazing," you smiled, pressing close to him and looking at your light tree.

"Shit, almost forgot," he said, reaching over to the bag and unzipping the smallest pocket. He fished something out as you frowned and he set the tiny thing in your hand. You held it up to the light, a miniature metal shoe.

"Said it was your favorite Monopoly piece," he said. "Found part of a game and that piece was still there."

You turned the piece over in your fingers, marveling at the little bit of normalcy you held, the physical manifestation of Joel's love for you.

"It's perfect," you kissed him and he tugged you closer. "You're perfect."

"S'long as it means you stop bogarting the race car," he teased. "I'm happy to do it."

You laughed and snuggled closer to him, holding the Monopoly piece and looking at the lights on the wall, Joel's fingers lightly tracing over you. His knuckles may be bloody and bruised, you may only eat canned food, you may not be able to leave your corner of Boston for fear of getting swarmed by infected monsters, but you had Joel.

Life was different now at 43 than you'd thought it would be for a lot of reasons. Life was hard in the QZ. But Joel made it worth it. All the quiet moments and the gentle touches, the inside jokes and deep comfort that came only from being with someone you loved made it worth it. You might not have all the things you thought you wanted once upon a time but you had Joel and Joel had you. That was more than enough.

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #kit answers #send asks #the watch

[thegreymoon]

Eternal Brotherhood

LMAO, so all their ridiculous posturing in the street was actually a secret code 🤣🤣

They are such idiots 🤣🤣

***

Oh, so Si Yilin is the OTP with Ka Dan?

Interesting and hilarious! I can get behind that!

I like him but she bores me senseless. I've seen people hating on Ning but at least she's funny. Ka Dan has been such a cardboard cut-out so far, it's super hard to relate to her.

***

LMAO, A-Xiu's ridiculous ass dressed up as the princess, didn't it 🤣🤣

***

The assassin is a WOMAN??

Who do we have so far?

Baichuan and A-Xiu's boss? 🤔

I am not happy with either of these choices.

***

LMAO, his constipated ass is already in love as if he had never seen a woman before in his life 🤣🤣

Sorry, Si Yilin, sucks to be you 😂😂

***

Really gorgeous!

Also, Baichuan showing up at the prison is suspicious af, but also looking like a misdirection.

For now, my money is on the boss being the assassin.

***

LMAOOO, Ka Dan escaped 🤣🤣

Looking forward to more of her trickery!

***

When does she start using her brain, though?

Or is she going to wait for Si Yilin to rescue her after she betrayed his trust and escaped?

***

She was seriously intending to slit her own throat??

And here my stupid self thought that she was conning them into giving her the knife so that she could murder them 😑😑

And of course, it was Si Yiling who had to save her, smh.

I can't stand her.

***

LMAOOOOO, he's an idiot and there is no woman, but, girl, you really need to grow some standards 🙄

***

Facepalming forever 🤦‍♀️

What I can't figure out yet, though, is whether he's subconsciously self-sabotaging or if he is deliberately trying to make himself as obnoxious to her as possible because he thinks nothing good can come out of her loving him.

***

He's been shot by an arrow through the chest but let's worry about her spraining an ankle, smh.

***

And now he has to carry her despite the arrow through his chest because she is too delicate to walk on her own two feet on anything but a perfectly level road, and is also apologising for the "disrespect" 🙄

I cannot.

***

LMAO, if he's not careful, Lord Lu will mistake his nonsense for actual flirting and then he'll be in extra trouble 😅

Seriously, though.

I know that my yaoi goggles are perpetually glued on, but even the average viewer must see that all their interactions so far have been sexually charged, right? The intent might be comic relief, but the sexual innuendo is 100% there.

***

I MEAN!! 🤯🤯

If this was a Western show, there would be a bajillion kinky fics on Ao3 within a day of this airing!

It's not even subtext at this point.

***

LMAO, Si Yilin wishes 🤣🤣

***

LMAO, what even 🤣🤣

I thought he would get Baichuan or Ning to dress up, not put on lipstick himself 🤣🤣

Anyway, for this to work, Lord Mu Qi must be really invested in the peace talks being a success. Yikes.

Also, I have to wonder if Lord Lu was to see him like this, he'd be more or less inclined to kidnap and abscond with him to the North, peace talks be damned 🤣🤣

***

Mu Qi is really invested 😅

He is definitely playing along.

I'm curious if Lord Lu is behind the attempted assassination and that's why he's insisting on seeing "her" because he knows she can't possibly be there.

***

I'm so glad he's not an idiot and I'm absolutely going to be shipping him with A-Xiu 😋

***

ASK LORD LU!! 🤣🤣

Also, I love Lord Ge to bits 🖤

#eternal brotherhood #eb spoilers #eb ep05

[guild-snail]

ASURA APPRECIATION WEEK 2023

DAY 1: OC TALK!

Hello Hi yes i am late to the party whoops playin catch up

ANYWAY!! Introducing my current main horrible rat:

DR NHIMM

FUN QUICK FACTS!

Nhimm alledgedly holds a double degree. In what? Good question!

Went from Inquest Employee of the month to in the top 10 Inquest most wanted with one weird trick!

Way too invested in his necromancy research, would rather die than hand it over (but he also doesn't want to die)

Had to go to a human dentist after a run in with the inquest, ended up with perfectly straight freakish teeth for an asura

Slicks back his hair to look more 'professional' but really has an unruly tangle of hair (the humidity in Maguuma does not help)

unhinged little he/they

Link to Current Spotify playlist for character themes and vibes (X)

And finally longer more detailed writing under the cut with some more scribbles o/

"Nhimm is questionably a Dr at best, and at worst is an unethical maniac, willing to sell anyone out to further his own research. He started out starry eyed as a young Medic within the Inquest out to save lives and help people, but too many close calls with death left him with questions about the mortal world of flesh that normal science couldn't provide answers to. Time turned him jaded and cynical, the cycle of life, death and resurrection his play things. He'll experiement on you! He'll experiment on your dog! He'll experiment on himself if it furthers his understanding of necromancy. Nhimm is quite lazy in nature most of the time, everything an effort unless his interest in engaged, sleazy and loose with his morals and work ethic, he wasn't the model employee but for what he lacked in efficiency he made up for in slap dash sparks of brilliance. Despite the extensive monetary support from the Inquest for his research, Nhimm longed and craved the freedom to do whatever he wanted without constant progress reviews and eyes watching his back. So he decided to quit, absconding with all of his dark research and the entirety of the funds allocated to him by the Inquest. Now setting up research facilities, freelancing here and there as a medic Nhimm is perpetually on the run from the Inquest, which while troublesome for him at least has kept life interesting. Most likely to be found around the outskirts of Rata Sum, or hiding out somewhere in the winding alleyways of Lion's Arch"

TLDR: nasty rat 2 edgy 5 me lmao

(Yall might remember him as one of those asura designs i did years ago, well suprise i decided to keep him and he worm his horrible little way into my heart lmao. Also i end up playin wvw on him quite alot so i am so sorry to whoever has run into me on there lmao)

EXTRA IMAGES:

thank for read the end

#gw2 #asuraappreciationweek #shows up late with charrbucks its fineeeeeeeee #i love all of my rats but i never talk about them so this is the cHANCE!!!! #nhimm

[princeresnikov]

it's in my nature {Tangerine} // 10

ten. tangerine: indistinct by design.

Summary: Tangerine has no idea how to feel about Clementine's possibly attempts at manipulation, he doesn't have the time. None of them do, a fact which is only made more frustrating when Clementine tries to insist on leaving The Twins to do her actual job.

{ Masterlist }

A/N: 2669 words. hello it's been five months its good to see you! yes i'm still writing this, but i'm also working internationally at my day job so that's been taking up a lot of my life lol. but i get so happy every time i think of this fic, even though I was SO stuck on this for MONTHS. anyways, i love you, i hope you enjoy, let me know what you think?

Warnings: Don’t be surprised when the OC is a terrible person and is implied to have done terrible things along with the rest of them.

Chapter Warnings: light discussions of murder

Taglist: @venusthepirate @malar-region @tangerinesgf @esmaada @sarcastic-sourwolf @chuyouchu @justshutupmars @somikesoc @chachadelight @andydre4m @evangelineflowers @darkchai @basementsoup @bellatrix124 @kunikidaswhore @thewinterschildren178 @deadtildeath @folkloreandfall @aniglio18 @geeiz @mimidior @justice-333 @ltlthetrifecta @salsasadd @xkawax @hellsgatelove22 @brownficgirl @tangerineswife @cigarettesandfigureskates @ceciliahargrove @welcometothescreaming20s @moonlight-matcha @thyeb @emilia527 @tangerinefics @charlemagnethesecond @little-miss-bi @megplant @kalli0pes @aaronperryjohnson @nachtcirce @literatureisair @nina-isabelle @queenofspades403 @ayaahaddadd @sweetbutpsychobutsweet

---

Clementine's already dubiously murky motivations were growing even harder to guess at as the day went on. Perhaps she was trying to get him on side, lull him into a false sense of security, sway his perception of her despite everything he'd learned that day. The part that Tangerine found rather infuriating, however, was that it was kind of working. Little things were adding up, things she'd mentioned today, memories of moments back in New York that kept resurfacing, and now, something about the way she'd admitted that making him happy was never part of her job description, he couldn't help but begin to think she was being genuine, at least about that.

He wasn't sure how to feel about it all, let alone her, not that he had time to feel things; later? Perhaps. Now? Not so much.

Slipping into the seat across the aisle from his brother, he can see Lemon's working hard to retain his composure, and despite how tense he's feeling, Tangerine does at least allow himself to breathe. He doesn't relax, persay; none of them are, and he's rather sure none of them really can, even if Clementine may look like she's never experienced a damn hardship in her life. While she's wearing that little smile that almost looks pleased as she sits daintily across from him, gaze roaming, searching the cabin in a way that anyone else could misconstrue as simply curious, Tangerine knows it all too well as her planning her possible escape routes. Lemon takes his focus for the moment, however, glancing furtively between them both.

"Well that couldn't 've gone better," he offers, more hopeful than anything else.

"Yeah, let's hope they buy it," Tangerine grimaces, before looking between them both, "we need to find that glasses twat like right - the fuck - now -" 

Except Clementine's phone buzzes. 

All three of them turn their attention to her bag.

"What. Now." Tangerine says through his teeth, practically oozing frustration. Clementine, having frantically fished the phone from the bag's depths, looks at the screen, seemingly ignoring him as she stands abruptly. 

"Royal pain," she mutters, mostly to herself, and makes a start towards the back end of the train. Before she can abscond, Tangerine's grabbing her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. The moment she looks at his hard expression, it's as if she suddenly remembered he was there at all.  

"Something more important to get to?" 

"Actually yes," Clementine says with surprising ire, "my job." Again Tangerine's mind lights up at the thought of the girl in first class, and the dishevelled man in the seat adjacent who she'd called her Uncle. Right. Weird. Not his problem right now. 

"She's got her Uncle, she'll be fine for a few minutes -"

"What?" Clementine says so sharply he could swear he could feel the sting. A strange look flashes across her face but she can't seem to regain her composure entirely - "no, I really have to go. If I see our man I'll be sure to send him your way -"

"Just one more question, Clem, I promise," it's Lemon's voice that cuts her off, altogether far lighter, far more amicable and earnest, "just before you go; I'm curious." Tangerine notes how he'd used her nickname with such ease, sounding almost jarring, at least to him, since Lemon had exclusively been referring to her as The Scorpion since that revelation - faint surprise reads on Clementine's face, but still she grants him a hesitant smile. 

"Not sure if there's time for that," she tells him, still standing, though her tone is almost apologetic. Almost. Lemon's smile is bereft of humour in a way that rather unnerved his brother.

"Humour me would you?"

After a moment of hesitation, Clementine obligingly sits once more. All three of them hear her phone vibrate where she's got it clutched to her chest. Both brothers look to it, but Clementine just holds it a little tighter.

"What do you really sound like?" Lemon asks her, "you're not really from the states; the Late, unfortunate Son of our boss implied as much; whaddya sound like when you're not talking to us?"

"What a dangerous question," her tone and smile indicate that she's impressed with his audacity, but she doesn't answer the question, "making a scrapbook? Is this how you choose to waste time?" It evidentially comes out a little harsher than she'd probably meant it, a sure but surprising sign that he'd touched a nerve.

"Careful with your tone there," Tangerine warns, "just call it part of the explanation you owe us." Tangerine backs up his brother's line of questioning without hesitation.

"I don't think it is," there's a new, faint reservation in her words; despite her promises, she still can't fully commit to being honest with them, "it's not the same; you two don't put the same kind of effort into obfuscating your identities."

"Big word for a girl like you, isn't it? Obfuscating," Tangerine's condescending tone allows a crack in Clementine's armour; she rolls her eyes, expression dropping and lips pursing. Still, he continues to needle her for the information, "you're doing more than your fair share of that now, aren't you?"

"It's my speciality," she gives a flat smile but can't look him in the eyes. She crosses her arms, seemingly letting go of the bright demeanour for a moment, falling back into being quiet and sullen; there's something about the question that appears to bring her more genuine discomfort than Tangerine had expected, "why are you asking me this, Lemon?" Her gaze keeps flicking around, both the cabin behind them, and the Twins themselves, though never looking them in the eyes.

"We want to trust you," it escapes Lemon before his brother can speak, appearing to catch both Clementine and Tangerine off guard.

"I don't believe that," she huffs a quiet laugh, gaze now focused down the aisle ahead of her. After a very long moment of deliberation, however, she takes a deep breath, "what was the question again?"

"What do you really sound like?" Lemon repeats flatly.

"In which language?"

"English, Clem," he sighs, but the irate edge has softened from his voice. Clementine glances over her shoulder for a moment, but then meets his gaze with a vaguely confused frown. Then, seemingly having processed whatever it was that had confused her, she makes a strange expression.

"I heard English in so many accents growing up, lots of tapes from all over the world, I think so I wouldn't have one that would be my default, I think they were afraid that when I was young, if I got into a situation where my accent would drop, it would be telling."

Her phone buzzes again, but this time she just places it face down on the table. 

"You don't know," Tangerine says flatly.

"I don't know," Clementine agrees, once more looking distinctly uncomfortable, wearing an expression that seemed to say 'I don't know what you expected'.

"So when you, say, default back -"

"I don't default to English," she pointed out. 

"Wouldn't your honest accent be based on your first language then?" Lemon points out, but Clementine shifts, again with an unfamiliar discomfort.

"Steps were taken to erase defining parts of my identity."

"That sounds downright fucking terrifying; what do you mean?"

"It's far more helpful than you might think, though some of the methods could stand to perhaps be more gentle," she gives an awkward, almost self deprecating laugh, before looking straight at Lemon with a vacant smile, "I'm fully ambidextrous, no preference for left or right, always have been."

"Is that why he took fingers instead of a whole hand?" Tangerine hears himself asking. Clementine, however, looks genuinely shocked that he'd made that connection.

"Among several other reasons," she said slowly, "yes." Then, with another furtive glance and a buzz from her phone, "Lemon, you know I'd love to chat and explain myself to you until I'm blue in the face, but we really don't have the time." Lemon's quick to thank her for her willingness to humour him, gesturing as if to say that she's no longer bound by social contract. Again, her phone buzzes as she picks it up and both brothers see her grimace as she goes to answer, voice growing faint as she trots hurriedly away. They both hear how she answers in a completely new accent, however, and Tangerine knows, clear as day, that it's a mirror of the young woman he'd met up in first class -

"What have you done now -"

"Spooky that is," Lemon muses after a moment, before he looks sharply to Tangerine, "Russian, right?" 

Tangerine frowns obvious confusion.

"Her accent," though he amends without even a beat, "or, no, her original accent; do you think she's Russian too?" 

"As far as probability goes," Tangerine says after a bit of thought, "chances aren't zero, I'll give you that."

"Well what's your leading theory?"

"I have bigger things to worry about than Clementine's country of origin, like that fuck with our case, and a fuckin' murder mystery," Tangerine scowls, "what's it even matter now?"

"I've been thinking- well, I've been panicking, wracking my brains," Lemon's half-rambling, leaning across the table to whisper to Tangerine the moment Clementine's out of earshot; his gaze doesn't stray from the door she'd disappeared through, "tryna figure out how she's connected to what happened with you in Russia all those years ago, and for the life of me I can't figure it out otherwise."

"So you think she is Russian?" Tangerine, despite his scepticism, matches his brother's low tone, meeting his conspiratorial energy.

"It matters because I can't rightly remember the details of the case, and I was hung up on them for years because I thought you'd end up dead, but she -"

"- somehow still remembers well enough to maybe want to kill about it," Tangerine sighed, finally realising where his brother was coming from, "despite not being personally tied to them."

"Allegedly."

"Allegedly." 

"Or she could have been competition."

"What?"

"Like competition for you; The Scorpion kills her competition, right? Maybe that's why? Took her a good few years after that to make a name for herself, right?"

A long silence followed, Tangerine scrubbing his hand over his face as he ruminates upon this.

"She wasn't the first."

"The fuck else have you done that I need to worry about -?!"

"Not the Russia thing, do you really think I wouldn't tell you if I did something like that without you again?" Scowling at his brother, Lemon at least has the grace to give him that. After a long moment, Tangerine exhales his frustration through his nose, sitting back in his seat, "wasn't the first like her, who kills her competition, was she? If she's been doing this for as long as I think, then she's kept a low profile until the past few years; she wasn't the first, and I doubt she'd be cut about that a decade after the fact, even if she was one to hold a grudge that long."

Lemon took a deep breath.

"Maybe that's why she killed The Cockroach."

"What are you talking about?"

"The Scorpion killed The Cockroach," Lemon insists, "'s what I heard, 's why she is the only one who does what she does anymore." It's ringing a very faint bell bell; Tangerine hasn't consciously thought about The Cockroach in a very long time. All Tangerine tries recalling everything he'd heard about the operative in the few years they had been operating, but he can't call to mind much that's positive.

They'd been scum, with friends in high places that kept them from being a target the way they sought to target other operatives in their path. Rumours said they were like an alien to encounter, cold and strange to anyone outside of their targets, bug-like with they way they watched, and their skittish nature; he thinks he recalls the derisive way someone once compared them to a preying mantis, or an alien. The Cockroach, despite their reputation, and everything they were rumoured to have done, everything they'd supposedly endured. Even when they weren't targeted by fellow operatives, their jobs were often said to be dangerous and required close contact. The Cockroach was said to be unkillable, in more ways than one.

But then, one day, though Tangerine supposed it would be a different day for everyone, he realised he hadn't heard anything about The Cockroach in months. Everyone stopped hearing about The Cockroach, but no-one really acknowledged it, or knew why. Rumours circulated of course -

"You know I'm right," Lemon says, sounding just a touch smug in the way he only ever did when he was menacing his brother. 

"I think you're distracting yourself -"

"You're thinking about it, and you know I'm right."

"Well right now she's not trying to kill us, so I don't give half a shit about who she has killed, or if she's Russian, or English, or American -"

"Well once we untangle ourselves from this bloody mess, ten-to-one odds she's gonna decide to start being a problem, so it matters -"

"Not right now it doesn't," Tangerine snapped finally, and took a moment to attempt to compose himself with very little success, "we're looking for that glasses-fuck; I'm gonna go up, you go down, double back when you're done. If you see him, fuckin' deal with him, yeah?" 

His brother is covered in blood that Tangerine hopes to God isn't his; he can't look at him right now, even as he's finally focusing back on their situation at hand. So Tangerine casts his gaze to the door Clementine had just passed through, trying to keep the description - glasses, blonde, American - in his mind, trying to recall anything else he can about the bastard who'd startled him earlier without Tangerine realising that he'd been the thief. 

Except that it occurs to him that he's not even sure what counts as up and what counts as down on a train. Of course Lemon would know -

"- towards Tokyo," Lemon clarifies, pointing in the other direction, "departing trains are always moving down." In all honesty, Tangerine doesn't know enough about trains to confirm as much, and Lemon already seems to be wary of Tangerine's dubious relationship with Clementine; for all he knows Lemon's concerned about his focus too, and trying to keep him from getting distracted. It doesn't sit well with him, however neither does acknowledging that Clementine has a knack for being able to distract him when she wants to. Either way, he trusts his brother on this - "and look, be careful," Lemon, as if hearing Tangerine's thoughts, turns to him, gaze intense, "something else is going on here," his voice is still low, still conspiratorial, as if he can't bring himself to trust any of the unsuspecting civilians around them, "I feel like there's still another Diesel lurking about." 

Fucking Thomas the Tank Engine.

"I swear to God, what did I say?" Tangerine hissed, fed up with this bit his brother insisted upon doing, "what did I say?" Any other day, hell, any other time he'd humour his brother in this, but right now was not the time - "I said I'd -"

"Shoot me in the face," Lemon finishes with exasperation, but clearly it's more than a bit, "Thomas still taught me how to see people, how to read them for real," he points out firmly, which Tangerine does agree to, "and I'm never wrong, am I?"

"No," Tangerine concedes.

"Glasses," Lemon insists, "he is not our guy. We still have another fuckin' bug to look out for."

Right, The Hornet.

Tangerine lets himself breathe for just a moment. He trusts his brother, he always has; Lemon's instincts have never been wrong before. 

As he pulls out his gun, Tangerine deliberates for a bit, gives himself a million reasons before he hands it over - Lemon's a better shot at close range, if one of them were to spot The Hornet first his money was on Lemon, Lemon's less likely to shoot the wrong person - but knows deep down that if he let his brother leave unarmed, and something happened to him, Tangerine would never forgive himself. 

"Shoot first, come up with the answers later."

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[anexperimentallife]

So grateful to everyone who helped us get so far with El's situation*. Thanks to y'all, El's citizenship is recognized, she has her passport, and our visas are reset for another three years.

Unfortunately, even with donations, this whole ordeal has left us 14K in debt.

PLUS now that El's citizenship, passport, and visa stuff is resolved, the US embassy is making us go to Manila AGAIN in December (for about another 1K--and yes, that's the earliest we could get an appointment), to apply in person for her social security number. (Which they would not let us apply for until after we had her passport.)

It'll take about three months to get her SSN, and only THEN can we apply to add her to my disability. No idea how long that will take.

Y'all, having a baby overseas during a national lockdown when BOTH parents are foreigners, especially if there's a birth certificate error that needs corrected, is a stressful and expensive hassle involving multiple visits to various local and national offices and the embassy.

I'm not even concerned about the surgeries I need right now (throat, jaw, and possibly joints). Eleanor is my top priority.

(*In case you didn't see the earlier posts, we're a disabled, neurodivergent, interracial US couple living in the Philippines, where it is actually possible to live on the pittance that the US pays for disability. Our daughter was born here under the lockdown as our visas were expiring, and an error on our daughter's birth certificate left her stateless, which cascaded into a series of bureaucratic/legal woes that had eventually put us in danger of forced separation and possible incarceration. That part is finally resolved thanks to y'all, but we've still got some challenges ahead.

During all of the above, @thesurestthing had to be hospitalized a couple of times, and I nearly died from COVID twice, spent a month on oxygen, had blood clots that screwed up my right retina and temporarily paralyzed one side of my face, a persistent two-year infection that required foot surgery and industrial strength antibiotics to resolve, and ended up with heart issues that are likely permanent--so even with the cheap healthcare here, it took a huge chunk of cash just to keep us--especially me--alive.)

So yeah, unfortunately, you'll be seeing another donation post within the next couple of days--hopefully more coherent than this one.

I'll go ahead and add the donation links here anyway, though.

We prefer pay pal donations, because they take the lowest fees, but we can also accept donations through go fund me and ko-fi.

pay pal: https://href.li/?https://www.paypal.com/donate/?hosted_button_id=AAPN4HRA9YLA4

ko fi: https://href.li/?https://ko-fi.com/anexperimentallife

go fund me: https://href.li/?https://www.gofundme.com/f/family-riding-out-covid-overseas

And if you've actually read all if this, here's a reward of the most adorable baby on this or any other planet (holding my cane, which she keeps absconding with lol).

Again--Thanks to everyone who has kicked in or reblogged so far. We will never be able to adequately express our gratitude. <3