#and i NEVER trust their own reporting of their symptoms

[riotbeankai]

after over 3 years of managing to avoid it, I tested positive for covid yesterday. literally 3 days after I got my covid booster, so it may be that I got exposed ON the day I got the booster 🙃 but idk if I got it from work or the pharmacy or dinner with family or what so that's fun. I'd been wearing a mask (except to eat) since coming home from a work convention until I could be sure I didn't catch anything there, so hopefully I didn't expose too many people ☹️🤧

[maxwellatoms]

I bought a Gartenmeister Fuchsia plant for my birthday back in January. It was a centerpiece all winter long, but recently it started looking a bit sickly. I'm not a "green" gerdener anymore (haha), but I am also by no means a master. I think it was infected with powdery mildew, but I also convinced myself it was spider mites. I try to keep things all -natural out there, so I dried it out and sprayed it with some neem oil after pruning it back a bit. I really should've pruned off all of the infected bits, but I didn't want to lose the flowers.

I did that a few more times, unable to commit to a hard prune because I kept telling myself "I don't know what I'm doing, so maybe it's not sick. Maybe it'll fix itself. Sure would be nice to have those flowers back." I finally gave up and cut it to the bone yesterday, but yesterday was too late. I had to remove every single leaf because I dithered for too long. It's probably not going to make it.

I feel the same way about our culture. US culture. Western culture (though its really a global problem). The Entertainment Industry. The Media. It's sick. We probably need some rather serious surgery to fix the problem, but we just will not see a doctor. To see a doctor would be to admit there's a problem, and for some that is the greatest sin of the 21st Century. Maybe some of us are just hoping the system will recover on its own so we can have our pretty flowers back.

For me, it was around 2010 or so when I first started to smell something "off". The symptoms had certainly been around a while. This was just when I noticed. This was when I got my first, "Hey, let's not make fun of corporations" note. It's when The History Channel stopped airing stuff about history in favor of aliens because that's where the money was. And rather than rebranding, they just left it as "History", encouraging future generations to believe whatever they felt like. This was also about when traditional news outlets started skewing to clickbait in order to compete with sites that were clearly 100% not legitimate news sites. Again, as long as the money is right it's "just entertainment" and you' can're welcome to believe it if it means you'll watch more.

I'm all-in on Dead Internet Theory now. The disparity between what major news media outlets will report and what you see from actual people on Tumblr or Threads or Reddit is pretty shocking. And those sites are already compromised by bots and bad actors. The tools exist now to actively bamboozle millions of people, and I have no doubt we're already seeing some of this now. In six months or a year you'll find out it (whatever it was) never happened or was generated by an LLM. The time to stop listening to anyone online was a year ago.

Trust no one.

Not even me!

It's cultural rot. It's spreading faster and faster, and I'm not sure what happens when we get to the end of this ride. Actually, I AM sure what happens. If we don't prune back hard now, then the rot takes over. Best-case, you clip the infected branches off too late and it takes years to recover. Worst case? Nature soldiers on but the plant succumbs to infection and dies completely, replaced (eventually) by something that can actually hack it in that spot.

When humans produce art and information, and then comment on that art and information by producing more art and information, we call it "culture". We're moving toward a time when the vast majority of art and ideas we get out eyes on won't be created by humans. Or at the very least won't be created with the purpose of commenting on or enriching the organic human experience. When that happens, what will we call it? What will remain of our culture?

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

That with mark and alternative Y/n was so adorable!!! :0

May i request like the aftermath headcanons? Like Mark begins to trust alternative Y/n and sees them now as his Guardian “Angel” and they become a duo! him bragging around school catching others attention like adam and Jonah? :3

Aw thanks! I'm glad you liked it! Also we're calling this an AU where "all the victims are besties and attend the same school"

If y'all wanna read the prequel it's here!!!!!

.................

Mark had prayed all his life for a guardian angel.

Never did he think one would come as an Alternate, of all things.

But...how else could he describe you?

Ever since that night, you've kept your promise to protect him, keeping him safe from the others who wanted to prey on his loss of faith and hope.

It still took a while for him to fully trust you, though, getting jumpy whenever he spots you in the corner when he's about to sleep or hears your voice all of the sudden.

And of course his nightmares have gotten 10x worse, but you're always there to comfort him.

The worst ones are where you sell him out to your "Savior", though those eventually faded.

You only went into hiding when Thatcher visited his house for a wellness check after his school's receptionist got concerned with his prolonged absence.

He didn't give away the fact you were still present, but did report his encounters with the other hostile Alternates, allowing the lieutenant to collect evidence.

Once Mark is determined not to show any M.A.D symptoms, he's okay enough to go back to school, where you still watch over him regularly.

Alternates haven't found a way to infiltrate schools yet, but you didn't wanna take any chances.

From your observations, you learn that he's quite the shy/loner kid, sometimes getting teased by others for his personality alone.

You also learned that Cesar usually rushed to his defense...but with him gone, Mark was pretty much on his own now.

One day, he's drawing you during class. But when the teacher left the room for a minute, some jerk snatched his "Reassurances" notebook and made fun of him in front of everyone.

He managed to get it back, but he hid in the bathroom during lunchtime and cried for a while until you appeared in the mirror and asked what's wrong.

Long story short, you gave the bully M.A.D later that night and left them to their fate (spoiler: they were part of the 3% who lived, unfortunately, but they dropped out of school).

Mark's not one to condone this kind of thing from you, but....you actually did him a huge favor by getting rid of them. They've bullied him for years--ever since the day he shared that "scary night" story back in elementary, in fact, and they never let it go.

With them gone, he becomes a bit more confident in himself, eventually telling his friends about how an Alternate actually helped him.

Ofc seldom few actually believe him, though it definitely caught the attention of Adam, Jonah, Sarah, and Evelin.

They're trying to get a paranormal/ghost-hunting club established and think it would be neat to have a friendly Alternate as their mascot and/or helper.

They are surprised when Mark agrees to join, considering he used to say it was "demonic" and didn't want anything to do with the club--but you've changed his perspective.

Obviously they don't want any authority figures getting word of an Alternate hanging around the school, so they do their best to talk to you in secret, learning how you helped their friend that night and why you're so benevolent towards innocent humans.

Sarah and Jonah are lowkey nervous interacting with you (Sarah bc her brother nearly died thanks to the actions of two other members of your kind, and Jonah bc he's skittish around all things scary).

If anyone trusts you, though, it's Mark.

[teaberrii]

Chapter 24: Cold Dragon Young

You've been Cupid for as long as you can remember. You've brought countless soulmates together, yet you've never found love.

When you're assigned to bring two childhood friends back together, it should be simple until you unexpectedly catch feelings for the mysterious and cold Ph.D. student, Dan Heng, the man with a soulmate… the man with answers to your past.

Dan Heng/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on Ao3

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

You were late.

You were never late.

When you didn’t show up to the meeting spot, Pom took to the skies to look for you. The situation had begun spiralling out of control if not already. Zombies began appearing in the village. Hospitals and clinics were overwhelmed with people reporting symptoms of paralysis. Before the chaos, Pom had sat in a meeting between the North and the South as a fly on the wall.

“Forget about using them as weapons of war. It's clear they cannot distinguish friend from foe, Luocha had said, shooting the King of the South a sharp look. "We’d be lucky if this disease doesn’t spread beyond the North’s borders.”

“I’m afraid that’s already happening, Master Lucoha.” One of the nobles had an anxious expression as he said, “We’ve received reports just this morning about an attack in a small fishing village on the border with the South.”

"Have the news reached the Middle Kingdom?" Jing Yuan asked.

The nobles glanced at each other until one of them said, “We… We haven’t heard anything.”

“Is this really the time to be worried about them?” The King of the South sternly looked around the room. “I’m sure they can look after their own. Perhaps they are the ones who started this disease, and we played right into their trap.” 

“O-Or…” Everyone turned to a timid-looking, young noble. “W-What if we all worked together and—”

The King of the South started clapping slowly. “An excellent idea. Let them know that humans are suffering. It’ll be the perfect opportunity for them to off us all.” He glared at the noble. “Did you forget how much they know about magic?”

“That’s why—”

“Enough.” Jing Yuan’s command silenced the room. Then, his gold eyes swept the room. “Our priority is to get this disease under control.” He looked at the King. “I trust that those in the South are educated on what to look for, and the army is well prepared.”

The King of the South stood. “Of course. Look after yourselves first, Jing Yuan. If anything, the North would be the first to fall.”

Soon, Jing Yuan and Luocha were the only ones left. The room was quiet with the shadows of the men illuminated on the walls.

“I never expected things to turn out like this,” Luocha said quietly. “...Our revenge got out of hand.”

“No. This disease showed up out of the blue and killed the king before we could act. This was planned.”

A pause.

Then, Jing Yuan said your name. “There’s a pattern I’ve noticed amongst everyone who’s been infected. They all saw her.” He sighed as he remembered his wife's outburst. "She must've learned enough about magic to change her appearance."

Luocha crossed his arms. “Or… she used a concealment spell to make sure others would see her as a different person like what someone did.”

Jing Yuan put a hand on his hip. “Are we talking about her or me?”

“There’s something else I’m curious about.” Luocha began pacing as he said, “You’ve been awfully concerned about the Middle Kingdom."

"Your point is?"

"Are you worried about your mother?"

Silence.

Luocha walked up to him. " She turned you away. That's why you came to the North. To take revenge for your father and make her accept—”

“...Enough.” Jing Yuan had his hands on the table. His head was down. Finally, he looked up. “If the Middle Kingdom falls, we’re all in danger.”

Then, Pom flew out of the room.

Now, Pom was a crow, his eyes scanning the forest for any sign of you. He knew all of your secret shortcuts by now, so he wasn't worried that he wouldn't find you. It’s who or what could’ve held you up.

“Jing Yuan must’ve tricked her,” you had said. “Told her that he would be killing me instead of him.”

You and Pom had narrowed it down to one person who could’ve helped Jing Yuan conceal Young’s execution, and that was his mother.

“...That’s brutal,” Pom muttered. “I don’t want to imagine what she could’ve felt once she finds out the truth.”

“What I don’t understand is why she would help him,” you said, watching the black liquid in the pot come to a boil.

“What if she comes after you?” Pom asked.

“...I’m going to kill her.”

“What?” Pom forced you to look at him. “That’s reckless! You don’t know what she’s capable of. And… what about her connection to Jing Yuan? What if you kill her… and Jing Yuan comes after you?”

Your silence was deafening.

When Pom finally found you by a river, he wasn’t sure if you were the one whom he should be worried about.

Pom has his hands on his knees, tired from all the running. Where else could you’ve gone? He stands upright and checks his phone. There’s still no word from March who said she'll let Pom know if you've returned.

Eventually, Pom leaves the market and starts wandering in the surrounding area where, by a stroke of good luck, he finds you, Dan Heng, and Stelle in an empty park.

When Pom gets closer, he can see everything on Stelle’s face. Confusion. Frustration. Anger? Did you and Dan Heng tell her about Caelus?

“This is… some kind of joke, right?” Stelle finally asks. “Past lives… Gods… Curses… You possibly killing me?”

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” you say, “but I—”

“If what you said is true, then you killed Dan Heng’s mother.”

“And if what you said is true, she tried to kill me," you say, frowning. “I’m not here to start a fight with you, Stelle. I just want to know what happened. Sampo may have returned your memories, but it didn’t sound like he did it out of goodwill. We don't even know who he is."

As if sensing Pom’s presence, Stelle turns and sees him slowly approaching you. “...Well, Pom seems to know him."

"...Y'all were taking a while," Pom says, approaching you and Dan Heng. "I was getting worried."

You frown when you see the bruises on Pom's neck. “What happened?”

“Er, Sampo paid me a visit earlier today.”

“What did he want?” Dan Heng asks.

“He didn’t really say. Said a bunch of things that I didn’t understand. Something about gods making verdicts.” He exhales sharply. “I think we should talk to Lan and Nanook.”

“Already one step ahead of you, Rabbit.”

Stelle takes a step back when she sees two unfamiliar men appear from the shadows. Nanook walks up beside you.

“Who… Who are you?” Stelle asks.

“They’re harmless,” Pom reassures.

“Not sure if I should take that as a compliment or an insult,” Nanook says, rolling his eyes. Then, he looks Stelle from head to toe. “Damn. You look so much like your brother.”

“...You know Caelus?”

Nanook awkwardly scratches the back of his head when he catches the warning look from you and Dan Heng. “Ah… uh… I’ve seen him once.”

“Sampo is a mercenary from Hell,” Lan says. The Grimoire suddenly appears in the god’s hands. “He wrote how to create the Withering”—his eyes land on you—“and you were the one who made it into a reality.”

“He watched everything unfold from the sidelines,” Nanook says with a sigh.

When you close your eyes, you suddenly smell burnt, rotting flesh. You’re sweating from underneath the scorching heat. You hear a scream and then a man’s voice:

"You have something of mine, dearie.”

You put a hand to your forehead. Upon noticing your discomfort, Dan Heng puts an arm around you. “What’s wrong?”

But before you can say anything, Stelle asks, “What does he want? Why is he giving me back my memories? Why now?”

Lan looks at her. “Sampo said something about giving you a head start. Not sure what that means, but”—Lan suddenly appears in front of her—“now that you know everything that’s going on, I trust you won’t be foolish enough to side with Sampo.”

Stelle looks up at him. “...You’re wrong.” Lan narrows his eyes. “I don’t know everything that’s going on. I didn’t know about you or…” Stelle’s eyes eventually land on Nanook. “How do you know my brother? Does he have something to do with this?”

“Stelle—”

Stelle clenches her fists. “I thought we were friends, Dan Heng,” she interrupts. “If you knew something about him… you would never hide it from me. Not the Dan Heng I know.”

“Look, girlie,” Nanook says. “It’s complicated, all right?"

“Keeping a friend in the dark? That's not very nice, is it?”

Everyone freezes at the sound of Sampo’s disembodied voice.

“Too afraid to show yourself?” Nanook asks, frowning. “Coward.”

Suddenly feel someone’s hands on your shoulders. And, when you slowly turn, you see a set of familiar teal-coloured eyes.

“You’re looking well, Cupid.”

Dan Heng tries to pull you closer to him but your body refuses to move. So, he glares at Sampo and says, “Get away from her.”

Sampo looks at Dan Heng and smiles. “Let’s let Cupid decide for herself, shall we?” Your body is shaking as you desperately try to move. Dan Heng can see it in your eyes. Confusion. Terror. And frustration. But before he can do anything, Sampo suddenly appears in front of him with an intrigued look in his eyes. “The reincarnation of Cold Dragon Young… It’s like I’m looking right at him.”

Dan Heng slaps Sampo’s hand away, and Sampo’s eyes turn cold.

“Hey!”

Pom and Nanook’s cries mix with the sound of flesh being torn apart. Dan Heng’s face turns pale, and your eyes go wide as blood drips onto the ground.

Sampo’s lifeless eyes land on you. “How nostalgic. Am I right?”

As Pom landed on a tree, he overheard the conversation between you and this mysterious woman.

“If only you hadn’t gotten involved with him,” she said, her voice breaking. “Young would still be alive.”

You didn’t have time for this. As soon as you saw her, you knew this was Caelus’s sister. When you and Caelus were still friends, he mentioned he had a sister who looked exactly like him. Young had also told you he saved a human girl before he died.

“...From the way you describe her, she sounds like Caelus’s sister,” you had said.

“Caelus has a sister?” Young asked.

“A twin, apparently. I never met her though.”

You’d never thought you’d meet her like this. 

“You’re Stelle, aren’t you? I heard a lot about you from your brother.”

“...You know Caelus?”

“You said that if Young hadn’t gotten involved with me, he’d still be alive.” You scoffed. “Hate to break it to you, but your brother helped Jing Yuan kill him. You’re hating the wrong person.” You turned around, but before you could walk away, you narrowed your eyes. Then, you swiftly raised your blade and blocked her attack. “What part of you hating the wrong person did you not understand?”

“...It’s not just about Young,” Stelle muttered. “Your family—”

“Yeah, I know,” you deadpanned. “They were terrible people. Tell me something I don’t know.”

Stelle frowned. “My brother lost himself trying to get revenge for our mother. You… You’re the last of them. If you’re gone, my brother won’t have anything to do with Jing Yuan anymore.”

“Drop the knife.”

You didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

“Sorry for the holdup, Pom,” you said, easily pushing Stelle back.

Pom came up beside you but was looking at Stelle. "Drop the knife," Pom said again.

“...Stelle. Do what they say.” You turned around just as Caelus emerged from the shadows. “I’m going to be the one to kill her.”

Caelus suddenly charged toward you. A clash. Then another. And another. When you had him on the ground with your blade drawing blood from his throat, you said, “Eavesdropping, were you?" You smiled. "You’re making this too easy for me, Caelus.”

You glanced to your right upon sensing someone coming up behind you. Then, you closed your eyes and moved so fast that Stelle didn’t have time to stop her blade from piercing his brother’s heart.

“No!”

You catch Dan Heng when he falls to his knees. Lan glares at Sampo who’s holding Dan Heng’s heart in his hands.

“What are you trying to do?” Lan spat. “You don’t gain anything from killing him.”

Sampo smiles. “Well, I wouldn’t say that.” He looks over his shoulder at Stelle who’s shaking and looking at her hands. “Seems like I sparked something.”

With Nanook supporting Dan Heng, you stand and make a grab at Sampo's throat. His eyes widen at your swift movements, but rather than being scared, he’s intrigued. Your eyes are wide with anger, and Sampo feels the air leaving his lungs.

Then, in a strained voice, he asks, “Are you sure you want to kill me, dearie?”

Pom appears beside Sampo and grabs his wrist, forcing him to drop Dan Heng’s heart into his hand.

“He won’t be the same. The man you knew… He’s already dead.”

Then, with a snap of his fingers, Sampo is gone.

“You’re putting it in wrong!” Pom cries.

“Well, gosh, Rabbit, I didn’t know you were also a fucking surgeon!”

While Pom uses his jacket to stop the bleeding, you get on your knees and put your hands over Dan Heng's wound. “I’ll heal him,” you say, voice shaking.

“Sampo's going to pay for this,” Nanook mutters as he watches you work your magic.

“...What are you doing to him?” Stelle is now beside Nanook.

“What do you think, girlie?” Nanook answers for you. “None of us want the kid to die.”

You’re so focused on Dan Heng that you don’t notice a small light coming from inside your pendant. Lan is the first to notice but keeps quiet. When the light inside your pendant dims, Dan Heng slowly opens his eyes.

“Dan Heng!” He slowly turns to you, but his eyes are strangely bright as if they’re glowing. You have a hand on his cheek as he gently smiles at you.

Pom grabs Nanook’s hand. “He’s okay!” The god shakes it off.

“Can you stand?” you ask as you put an arm to support him.

When you help him to his feet, Dan Heng takes your hand. “I’m fine.”

You help him walk a few steps before Stelle catches up and asks, “Are you sure?” Her eyes land on his wound. “That still looks pretty bad…”

Nanook is the first to notice Lan staring at Dan Heng. “You’re staring at the kid pretty intensely. You think he cheated death?”

“...Hard to say.”

Before Nanook can ask, Pom sighs. “What are we going to do about Sampo?”

“You mean Mr. Drama Queen?” Nanook asks flatly. “Even though just ripped the kid’s heart out, I doubt he’ll do that again. He doesn’t gain anything from killing him.”

“But that doesn’t mean we should take him lightly,” Lan says. Then, he looks at Stelle. “Whatever you saw… it’ll never be as bad as falling into Sampo’s trap. It’d be in your best interests to let us know if he comes to find you again.”

“...Right. Sure.” Stelle looks at Dan Heng. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Dan Heng gives her a small nod.

Pom clears his throat as he looks at his phone. “Well, I just stopped Gepard and March from calling the police on us. We’d better head back.”

Nanook smiles. “What’s the occasion?”

◆◆◆

When March opens the door, her jaw nearly drops. “Nanook?”

“Long time no see, my sugarplum fairy.” March gags and Nanook gives her a sarcastic smile. “May we come in?”

“What took so long?” Gepard asks as March steps aside and watches everyone walk inside.

“We… got held up,” Pom says. He tugs on Lan’s arm. “And it was Lan here who got us out of it! He’s an old friend of ours.” Pom looks at Lan who has the most intimidating expression. The god narrows his eyes at the shapeshifter when he tries to make him smile.

“Why am I here?” Lan mutters under his breath.

“Lighten up and have some fun with the humans once in a while," Nanook says quietly. “Besides, if Mr. Drama Queen shows up, having some extra manpower wouldn't hurt.”

"Don't you mean godpower?" Pom asks.

They give him a deadpan look.

“What happened to your shirt, Dan Heng?” Gepard asks worriedly upon noticing the badly patched rip near his chest.

“He fell,” Pom says quickly.

March raises a brow. “How did he fall to get injured near the chest?”

“We’ll explain later,” Stelle unexpectedly says. Then, she looks at him. “...You can change into one of Caelus’s clothes.” She gestures for him to follow her. “Come on.”

“...Caelus,” Dan Heng says quietly.

“He wouldn’t mind. He borrows your shirts all the time.”

Dan Heng looks at you, and you force a little smile and let go of his hand. While Nanook and Pom are getting drinks with March and Gepard, you subtly watch Dan Heng follow Stelle upstairs before Lan comes up beside you.

"Your locket," he says. "I saw it glow when you were healing Dan Heng."

You take it out of your shirt. "...Is it possible?" Lan looks at you. "Is it possible for someone to come back from the dead?"

Lan narrows his eyes. "Are you saying..."

"Young was killed. I saw it with my own eyes," you say quietly. "But he's..." With slightly shaky hands, you try opening it and succeed.

Upstairs, Stelle stops in front of Caelus’s room. But she doesn’t open the door. Dan Heng observes her, a hand in his pocket. Stelle relaxes her shoulders and finally turns around.

“...You’re not Dan Heng.” Stelle steps toward him. “Who are you?”

"You're very observant," Dan Heng says. "We've met before, Stelle. But not in this period."

“You’re…”

“Young. My name is Young.”

Stelle puts a hand on her forehead. “...I remember you. I… Oh, God.” Then, when she gets a hold of her emotions, she asks, “Where’s Dan Heng?”

“He’s safe.”

“How are you here? What’s going on? I… Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

“I’m here for one reason alone.” Then, he says your name and looks Stelle in the eyes. “I want to take her back with me.”

Downstairs, Nanook is getting increasingly annoyed at Gepard having his butt in his face in a game of Twister.

"Left hand green!" March says.

Pom taps your arm and gestures for you to follow him. In another corner of the room, he says, "I, uh, I have news."

“Me too,” you mutter.

“Well, you first.” Then, quietly, “I bet it’s not going to be as shocking as mine.”

Pom takes a sip of his drink. “Young’s back.” Everyone turns when Pom chokes and starts coughing. You give him some hard pats on the back before turning to everyone. “He’s fine. Don’t worry.”

When everyone goes back to whatever they were doing, Pom coughs and says, “How”—he hits his chest a couple of times—”How do you know?”

Dan Heng was alive. He was holding your hand, but… it was a feeling you couldn’t shake. Something was off. Perhaps it was the way he was holding your hand. While Dan Heng loved interlocking his fingers with yours, this time he's firmly cupping your hand. When you glanced at him, he also looked at you. Then, he leaned closer, and you heard him whisper, “...I’m back.”

Your eyes widened, and that was when you saw it. The horns. The tail. But it was all for a second before they disappeared again. You weren’t the only one who noticed.

“How…?” you ask quietly. “How is this possible?”

“When Sampo ripped out Dan Heng’s heart, he became an empty vessel.” You looked away, and your uncomfortable expression didn’t go unnoticed. “...He is my reincarnation. My doppelganger. When I died that night, I didn't go unprepared.”

You had so many questions. Did Young really die that night? Or, did he use magic to preserve his soul in your locket? Did that mean Dan Heng had to die for Young to come back? No. That couldn't be true. That—

"Dan Heng's alive," Young said as if reading your mind. "We're sharing the same body." His grip on your hand tightened. “I can feel everything he feels. He cares about you… a lot. Our feelings are the same.”

Young was your past. Dan Heng was your present. But who was going to be your future?

After telling Pom about the conversation between you and Young on your way back, Pom had to sit down. “Well, gosh,” he mutters. “Maybe that’s why Young couldn’t tell us how to open the locket.” Then, in a slightly lower tone, “All you have to do is to rip out your boyfriend’s heart and poof! I’m back, baby!” Pom looks up at you. “...What are you going to do?”

“I… I’d rather sleep on it for now,” you say. “What’s important right now is that Dan Heng is alive.” You sit next to Pom. “It’s your turn. What did you have to tell me?”

Pom is fidgeting as he contemplates telling you what he knows. Is Young taking over Dan Heng's body a mere coincidence? Is this the happy ending everyone is hoping for: You moving on with Young?

“Pom?”

Pom looks at you. “Ah, well, um… I… I had a dream about us.” You wait patiently for him to go on. “The thing is—”

Someone’s phone suddenly starts ringing just as Stelle comes down the stairs.

“Hey, Stelle, your phone’s ringing!” March says.

Just as Stelle picks up her phone, Young comes down the stairs wearing one of Caelus’s shirts. Gepard passes Young a drink just as Stelle says, “...Missing? What do you mean Caelus is missing?”

◆◆◆

The bright lights of the city are a complete blur as Caelus stares straight ahead. He has only one person on his mind, and that is you.

Stelle was still shaking. Her hands were still on the blade that had impaled her brother. She could see the life leaving his eyes as she cried. Without thinking, she began lifting the blade just when she heard your voice.

“I wouldn’t do that.” You crouched and looked down at Caelus who was staring at you. Without lifting your head, you looked at Stelle. “Take that sword out of him, and he’s a goner.”

Pom came up to Caelus’s side and watched as he spat out blood.

“Get… Get out… of here, Stelle.”

“I’ll fix this,” Stelle cried. “I… I promise. I…”

You and Pom glanced at each other. Then, with a small smile, you said, “There is a way to save him.” With a snap of your fingers, a vial with black mist inside appeared in your hand. “With just a little bit of magic.”

"No!"

You found the outburst amusing. "Caelus mentioned you weren't a fan of magic. You won't even use it to help heal your brother?" When Stelle said nothing, you pointed your blade at her. She froze. “If not for your brother, Young would still be alive.”

Caelus knew what you were trying to do, but he was powerless to do anything about it. The words wouldn’t form, and even if he tried to speak, his heart felt like it was being pierced by a million needles.

"Your brother won't die… unlike what he did to Young." You could see everything in her eyes. They may be family, but you could tell there was bad blood. You opened the vial. "I was never your enemy, Stelle. Caelus took away someone important to both of us."

With tears in her eyes, Stelle looked up at you. “But you’re a part of them. You’re still one of—”

“There are some things in life you cannot change. Your family is one of them. But I can change who I am, who I choose to become.” You put a hand over Caelus’s mouth. “This is but a small payback for what he did to me. To us.”

Caelus gagged and his eyes rolled to the back of his head as you forced him to inhale the mist.

"Wait!" Stelle tried to stop you, but it was already too late. You quickly pulled back when the deed was done. " ...C-Caelus?” Stelle held his brother's arms as he convulsed on the spot.

You stepped back, and Pom walked up to you. “The curse is getting stronger…”

“...Let’s go.”

Just as you and Pom turned around, Stelle screamed, and the sound of flesh being torn away was all that could be heard.

But you and Pom were already gone.

Caelus stops within a crowd. Looking around, everyone is either staring ahead or at their phones. No one notices the fog in Caelus’s eyes or how his veins are slightly darker and more noticeable than normal. He finally remembers everything, and the vicious cycle begins again.

Now, he’s out to find you. 

Chapter 25

End notes:

Surprise updatee! Well, I think it's a surprise lol I don't usually update at this time. But I took sick leave from work and used some of the time to work on this chapter.

I'm planning for just 3 more chapters of this story. It'll definitely not go over 30 chapters lol the next chapter will show more of your past friendship with Caelus.

Tag list: @suoshiii @lordbugs @seirenspinel @lxry-chxn @tanspostsblog @theprinceofkhaos @nqctre @lunavixia @akwardbiscuit @sunsethw4 @hiqhkey @n8mareee @vintagepoetryluna

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

this might be a touchy subject and you don’t have to answer but, as one myself, how would Yves act with a chronically ill/physically disabled person? or even someone who constantly deals with chronic pain that is debilitating for everyday life? btw i love your writing, no matter how cursed. 🤍

Yves feels his heart wrench whenever he sees you break down in tears, frustrated at yourself for not doing as well as other able-bodied people, frustrated that you have to surrender your autonomy at times to Yves. He truly does, he hates to see you in such a state. While he doesn't mind, even prefers you to be dependent on him due to his strong caregiver personality, Yves doesn't want it to be at the cost of your happiness.

He will read up on all the papers published about your illness or disability. Past and modern ones, there must be a pattern or some sort that he could identify. Yves will try his best to find a cure or at least something that will improve your symptoms greatly.

But the first thing he will get done is to talk to you. Discuss what you ultimately want; is it freedom you seek? His undying support? The unyielding truth that Yves will stay by your side no matter how bad it gets? Do you want to keep fighting for yourself, or do you want Yves to do it for you?

You will have the latest, cutting-edge prosthetics if you're struggling with an amputated limb or body part. All the helpful, relevant, accessible gadgets will be installed in the house in hopes of making your life much easier and giving back the level of independence you need to maintain your mental health. Yves will remember all your appointments for you, that fills his planners up. Your dosages, your medication, and the procedures of your treatments.

He will remind you, pre-pack your pills, and help you with your IV drip. Yves is very careful with his tone and words, he knows the stress, humiliation, and pain that come with living as a chronically ill person can easily set you off. Everything can be overwhelming, he does not want to see tears of anger or hopelessness in your eyes. It's not your fault, you never wanted this and it just happened to affect you.

Yves spends nights perusing through all experimental treatments, weighing between the risks and benefits. He will present his carefully curated selection to you, but he makes sure to pace it out appropriately. Because if he were to show you thousands of pages of medical reports, chances are you're going to be upset, overstimulated, and angry at him. You have very limited energy and focus, he needs to get his words as concise and accurate as possible.

Watching him kneel with you on the bathroom floor, as you experience your seventh vomiting tonight, truly shocked you. Understandably, you're in such a terrible state, that you've barely gotten any sleep for the past month. But Yves sleeps even less, he is always awake, always looking after you. Ready for any emergencies and constantly preparing items or foods that will ease you. Yet, he looks glowing, as if he wasn't caretaking a bleeding ball of misery. His hair is always silky and brushed, no bags under his eyes, and his movement is still crisp. And he always knows what to do, much better than you or your practitioners.

He knows your body well enough to administer his own dose of painkillers, going against doctors' orders and obtaining drugs that fully alleviate your pain. Strategically timing your doses so it won't be too hard on your liver. Taking your blood samples himself and ran them through his own trusted pathology lab, potentially proving that your doctor might have misdiagnosed you. Maybe you wouldn't need to suffer, Yves could find a cure.

You were very apprehensive at first when Yves suggested that he does his own testing. He has no credentials, why should you trust him? The doctors have much more experience than him and they went to school for this. You're not trusting a random to cut you open either, he's a mathematician, not a medical doctor or a surgeon-

You were dumbfounded when he produced his own certifications and licenses. Proving that he worked in hospitals, researched institutes, and even published his own medical papers that universities used as teaching material for decades. Everything he presented is legitimate, he even demonstrated the validity of them by your request. You could call his universities and they will all confirm his contributions, You can confirm with the government and the relevant boards, you can search for him anywhere, and early pictures of him will resurface.

He looked so different. Yves looked unremarkable in them with short hair. He looks unhappier and more exhausted, though. Makes you wonder how old he really is.

But that was all. You cannot find further information on Yves other than the ones he allows you to know about.

So you reluctantly let him stick a needle in you, only to realize that he's done. You blinked multiple times and darted your eyes from your arm and his gloved hands holding vials of blood. Unlike the usual nurses or doctors, you can't feel the needle going in or out. Yes, you saw it, but it was unbelievably fast.

Your jaw dropped as he didn't even need to palpate your arm. Yves just calmly inserted the syringe, gathered what he needed, and finished. You didn't experience any bruising later, which was astonishing with the speed he was working with.

He labeled them and packed them in a plastic bag with a biohazard symbol on it and into a padded envelope. Yves disposed of his gloves and washed his hands.

You expected him to enlighten you. Tell you stories while he was in the field, brag about his accomplishments, complain about difficult patients, anything! You needed to know more! Just who the hell is he?

But all he did was smile, give you a kiss on the forehead, and help you back to your room.

[immobiliter]

an almost comprehensive list of firsts for furina to experience in no particular order~

first time cooking her own meal for herself ( someone teach her to make something other than macaroni please )

also her first time just generally taking care of herself and doing those small tasks that she never needed to do because she had attendants and servants at the palais, like doing her laundry or grocery shopping or cleaning her apartment

first time getting ill because she has physically been in stasis for 500 years, so the first time this happens it's gonna hit her hard unfortunately

first time getting drunk ! i do believe furina drinks wine at social events as a matter of etiquette but has never, ever been inebriated ( although with her physically being in stasis this may well have been an impossibility even if she had indulged over the years. this would therefore make her a lightweight as soon as her curse is lifted, fyi )

first kiss !

first time having sex/being physically intimate with another person and trusting them enough to do so

but also the first time she actually feels sexual desire or finds someone physically attractive because the moment she gets even mildly horny for the first time the physical symptoms will genuinely make her think she has contracted some awful disease lmao

first time travelling outside of fontaine ! she already did this during lantern rite but it was a short trip and she absolutely deserves to go on a longer vacation and also meet all of the other archons so she can report back to neuvillette and tell him how nice they are

[paganwitchisis]

Elven Judgement Chapter 5

Chapter Five: A Marriage Proposal and Celebration

Rating: E for Explicit

Summary: Set after the events in Baldur’s Gate 3, Tav and spawn Astarion are expecting a new bundle of joy when Astarion reconnects with his parents. Things don’t go as planned with the soon to be grandparents! Expect drama, suspense, fluff, smut and an overly protective Astarion!

Word Count: 3,728

Pairing: AFAB Female Tav/Astarion

Warnings: Smut, pregnancy, oral, anal, PinV smut, creampie, breeding (kink), hurtful parents, mental abuse, violence (bandits), blood drinking, blood (wounds), protective/soft Astarion, adult language.  

Thank you for proofreading! You’re amazing @alyssac9

Dividers are property and credited to the lovely @cafekitsune

AO3 link here!

Story:

Halsin had checked on her often and had reported that both the child and the mother were doing well. They just needed further rest to make up for what was done to her, but Astarion wouldn’t hear of it. He was convinced something was wrong as she had not stirred since that day in the forest. He had cried in private and begged her to return. He had begged the gods to not take her away now that he finally had her. He treated her like a precious gift and bathed her body delicately since she didn’t wake. He took care of her, dressing her in fine fabrics and reading to her just about anything he was reading as he laid with her. He never left her side.

It was then that Silwen saw the extent to which Astarion loved her, and she felt more like the fool to try to get between them. It took two days but eventually, Tav began to move on her own.

“Tav? One moment! Let me get Halsin!” Astarion made sure that Tav was covered and ran to to the companion room. He called out Halsin’s name and ran back to Tav who was sitting up in bed, the covers in her grip as she used them to cover her chest.

Tav said nothing and stared off into the space near Astarion’s head. He was unsure of what that meant and kissed her on the forehead.

“Tavaria! You’re awake. How are you feeling, my love?”

Halsin had entered the room and grabbed the chair by the side. He sat it and himself next to the bed and began working his magic on Tav for what felt like the twentieth time in the past two days. Halsin didn’t complain, though, as he found their trust and love to be a beautiful thing. It took a lot for Astarion to trust him and he wouldn't betray that trust. Tav never replied to Astarion, and this upset him further, he sat at her legs on the bed and placed his hand on her thigh.

“Is something wrong?”

Tav didn’t turn to look at him or smile. She didn’t talk, she just kept staring out into the space next to the elf.

“Halsin? Is something wrong with her? Is the baby…” Astarion didn’t want to say the words and give it power. He was scared about their health and worried about the future of his son and, hopefully, if she agreed, his future wife. He watched and waited for Halsin to reply. Soon, the magic once again dissipated from Halsin’s fingertips. Halsin straightened himself out and looked at Astarion.

“Physically, she is doing well. I’d still rather she spent some time in bed to stabilize the situation, but she should be talking.”

“And the baby?”

“The child is well… your child lives and is growing at a normal rate.”

Astarion smiled. His child. A gift that he never thought he’d be given in his lifetime, yet here his lover had given him a son and protected the child as she was out in Rivington. He couldn’t help but let a tear fall as he looked at Tav who was disassociating. He knew the symptoms as he did it often when he was still a slave and lured back victims for his master.

Astarion turned back and looked at the woman he loved, took one of her hands into his, and pleaded.

“Tav! Tavaria come back to me! I love you; I want to marry you! I know what it’s like to disassociate. You just go through the motions but you’re not really there. I’m here and I’ll be waiting until you come back to me.”

Tav was silent as Halsin got up and left the room, closing the door behind him. Astarion was glad that Tav was awake but was concerned about her mental state. He almost regretted giving his mother another chance after everything she did. After another moment, Tav turned her head and looked at him and gazed at him in the eye. She smiled a sad smile and repeated something he said earlier when Halsin was still in the room.

“You want to marry me?”

Astarion smiled and kissed Tav hard but chastely as he stood up and locked the door. He got on his knee next to the bed and gave her a toothy grin.

“I’ve been thinking of little else the past couple of days.” Astarion took her hand once again and continued. “I love you, Tavaria Stormgleam, and would be honored if you took up my last name, Ancunin. A human’s life is short, and I don’t want to waste a single second waiting further. Will you marry me, Tav?”

Tav was about to answer when Astarion added, “I don’t have a ring, but I swear, I’ll get you…” Tav launched her nude self at him and kissed him to stop his ramblings. All the while she was saying “yes.”

Astarion took the moment to listen to her and smiled more broadly as he heard her reply.

Yes.

She will be his bride!

Astarion kissed her back, and aware they were laying on the ground, Astarion picked up his fiancée and placed her in bed. He just kept muttering I love you and held her close.

“Are you feeling better? From before when you weren’t quite... here?”  Astarion asked as they lay down in bed; he was kissing her repeatedly. He kissed her any place he could reach, be it her nose, her cheek, her lips, or her forehead. He purposely avoided her neck as he didn’t want to tempt himself after her health struggle.

“If you give me a minute to answer,” Tav giggled; it was like music to Astarion’s ears. He stopped kissing her so much to give her space to speak. “I’m feeling better. I don’t know what came over me. All I know is it was like you said. I was here but I wasn't. I’m sorry to have worried you.”

“Pay it no heed. I’m just happy you’re safe and healthy, both of you.” Astarion murmured back as he kissed her lips again. “We should discuss my mother and our wedding.”

“Well…” Tav propped herself up on her elbows, letting the covers drop that had covered her breasts. Astarion’s gaze dropped to her breasts, and he licked his lips.

“God’s you’re beautiful,” Astarion commented before looking back up at her face.

“Even with the new scars?” Tav asked as her right breast and left thigh sported a new scar from the bandits she fought off when she ran away from her fiancée in a misguided attempt to help Astarion form a bond with his mother.

“You’re a vision, darling, feel.” Astarion took her hand and placed it on his groin. She could feel him harden under her fingers and through his light clothing. “I always want you. You’re gorgeous, you’re understanding and patient. Most importantly, though, your heart is something no one else has, and I’d know. I’ve been stalking the streets for a long time, yet only you are this loving and supportive. You have a heart of gold, my sweet, and I am so happy you agreed to marry me. You’re mine and only mine. At least for the next eight months.”

“Do you want to get married before the baby arrives?” Tav retracted her hand from Astarion’s groin and tugged on his shirt. He understood the unspoken question and took off his shirt, tossing it on the dresser at the side of the room.

“I’d like to get married as soon as you are willing. I’m not much of a ceremony fan but I’d do anything for you.”

“Then let’s not have one. Let’s just sign the paperwork and be done.” Tav kicked the covers down some more as she sat up.

“Because you deserve the ceremony. You deserve everything, my love.”

Tav just shook her head no and smiled. “I’m not a fan either. I mean, I’d like for our friends to be there and celebrate with us, but I’d rather not walk down the aisle if it is all the same to you.” Astarion got out of bed and stripped himself of his pants while leaving his underwear still on.

“Then we’ll do that. We’ll get married without the fanfare and have a small party after with our close friends. Now about my parents.”

“Do you want them to be with us after we get married?” Tav asked as she uncovered herself and straddled her fiancée. He moaned as he watched his betrothed’s breasts bounce and jiggle as she flung her leg over his hip.

“I quite frankly don’t want them anywhere near you, but at the same time, I want to rub it in her face how I’m with you and only you. I don’t care that you’re a human. You’re my soon-to-be wife, and that’s all there is to it.”  Astarion began to slowly grind his hardening shaft into her sensitive place until Tav moaned his name again. “I’d rather not talk about my mother as I’m about to make love to my fiancée.”

“Maybe we should slow down. We really need to talk.”

“Slow down? You never came last time we were intimate. I promised you a night of debauchery, and I’m making it up to you and, Mrs. Ancunin, I plan to do just that.” Astarion purred before he held her thighs and flipped them over. Tav laid on her back as he caged her in. “As much as I love that view, you shouldn’t be exerting yourself. Not with the baby.”

“Is that what you want to do? Make love all night?” Tav asked as she looped her legs around his waist.

“Yes. What about you?” Astarion took her breast into his mouth, his tongue playing with her nipple, making Tav gasp.

“I think we have something to celebrate.” Tav smiled. Astarion brought his left hand up to the neglected breast and cupped it. She arched her back and pressed her breasts further into his care. He suckled on the nipple, playing with it between his blunted teeth.

“Oh, Astarion!”

“And this time, I’m not answering the damn door. I don’t care if someone is dying. You’re coming tonight and many, many times at that.” Astarion moved his head to take in the other breast. His other hand now massaged the tit that he used to be working on. The bulge in his underwear grew. “First, I’m going to use my mouth and fingers on you. Then, when you’re nice and loosened up, I’m going to make love to you. Finally, to add some spice into our bedroom, I want your ass.”

“We’ve never tried anal before,” Tav reminded him, a little alarmed.

“I have plenty of practice, my love, and can help you learn. It will feel good. Do you trust me?”

“Always.” Astarion kissed Tav once again as he pulled his underwear off and threw them to the side with his pants.

“Then lay back and relax. Just enjoy this.” Astarion was tempted to skip the foreplay and just dive into making her writhe in pleasure, but he wouldn’t. She deserved everything he had to offer and so he kissed her passionately, slowly making his way south and worshiping her body as he went along. He paid special attention to her breasts and sucked hard on her neck. He never pierced the skin; he just wanted to leave behind his mark, and since he could not feed from her for the time being, he did what was second best.

Tav gasped, moaned, and groaned in pleasure as he progressed his way south. Her heartbeat was elevated, she had a thin sheen of sweat to her brow, and gods above did she look like a goddess. Her hair was tussled, and her hand was on the back of Astarion’s head as she encouraged him with thin scratches to his scalp, never once pulling his soft silver locks. When he made it to her breasts, he couldn’t help but think about how soon his child, his son, would be suckling on those very same breasts. He chuckled to himself and remained gentle on her flesh, never picking up the pace or doing what she had clearly wanted him to do.

“Astarion! Please!” Tav begged as she bucked her hips which earned a second chuckle from him.

“Tsk, you can do better than that, can’t you? Beg me. Beg me to make you see stars, love. Beg me to breed you and fill that tight cunt of yours with my seed.”

At first, Tav refused to beg but as Astarion stayed up near her breasts, her patience began to wear out.

“Please, Astarion! Please make me come! Please lick my cunt and fill me with your essence.”

“Essence? We need to work on your dirty talk.” Astarion laughed but began to make his way towards her dripping core. “But I’ll accept it for now.”

Astarion inhaled the sweet scent of her arousal and salivated. How he loved that smell and her taste, it was addicting. He used his two forefingers to spread her labia and reveal her sex more to him, his eyes were half lidded with lust and dilated. He needed her. He licked her clit once and gauged her reaction as her hips bucked, and she gasped out his name. He smirked and used his hand to keep her hips on the bed before he dove his face inside her folds and sucked, licked, and flicked her bundle of nerves. She was so loud that it made him happy inside. He wanted others to know she was off limits and was his, just as much as he was hers. He didn’t care if his mother or father heard them. He certainly didn’t care if their companions had heard them. Instead, he upped the pace and slid two of his fingers inside of his fiancée. She was sopping wet, and he was thrilled. He wasn't going to pull away, however, to begin the main course.

No.

Instead, he owed her for the lack of completion a couple of days ago, and Astarion was determined to make her crest. Tav could feel the desire inside her like white burning electricity. It shot from the tips of her toes to her cunt where he was performing magic between her legs. She tightened a hand on the sheets as she didn’t want to hurt her betrothed. It was too much and not enough. It wasn't until he began hitting the patch of flesh inside her that she welcomed seeing stars.

“Astarion!! I’m close. I’m...”

“Come! Come on my face!” Astarion gruffly replied as his face was still buried in her folds before he upped his pace, yet again, to a brutal pace with his tongue. The coil snapped and she saw a white light. She came hard; her inner soft tissue began contracting, which made Astarion’s cock throb in longing. He ignored it, however, and helped her ride her climax to the end before he straightened himself out and sucked his fingers clean.

“Delicious,” Astarion commented in a sing-song voice. He pulled his hard and weeping cock away from his lower belly and lined himself up with her soaked entrance. “Are you ready, dear?”

“Fuck me hard! You put a baby in me, Astarion. Give me your seed.”

“Your dirty talk is improving, love,” Astarion commented as he shoved himself into her in one thrust up to the hilt. “I did put a baby in you and once this one is born, I plan to do it again.”

“You want more children, Astarion?” Tav asked as she accommodated to his length.

“I want a fucking army with you, my love. I want the world to see your swollen stomach and know what we’ve been up to. I want our progeny to look like you and I really want to breed you. You’re mine and no one will take you away from me.”

Astarion waited until Tav began bucking her hips once again to signal that she was ready for his girth before he began thrusting in earnest. His eyes nearly went back into his head as the hot, tight grip on his cock was overwhelmingly pleasurable. His sack began slapping he ass once again, and this reminded him of what he must do. He was able to easily reach the bedside dresser from his angle, and while thrusting into her unimaginable heat, he grabbed the lubrication jelly from the dresser.

Astarion coated his finger in it and kissed Tav hard before finding her puckered muscle between her ass cheeks.

“Don’t clench up, darling. Just relax.” Astarion kissed Tav some more, deepening the kiss as his one long finger probed her backdoor. He knew, as a beginner, that she was going to need some prep work to accommodate his cock in her back entrance, and considering it was her first time, he wanted to give her nothing but pleasure. He always wanted to give her pleasure and knew she would need a little more work back there for that to happen. He was able to get passed the rings of muscle with one finger before he lubricated his other finger and inserted that as well. It didn’t hurt her like he promised. It felt strange, different than what she was used to, but he wasn't done yet. He was loosening the muscle and widening the hole. His end was quickly approaching, so he pulled back from kissing his fiancée and brought the hand not working her other entrance to her clit as he pounded her succulent cunt. He pulled his right hand back from working her ass and grabbed a rag on the edge of the nightstand to remove the jelly from his fingers. He was getting her close once again, he was so close that he was worried he would spill first. Thankfully, his work wasn't in vain, as Tav went over the edge once again, screaming his name.

This pulled Astarion with her and he filled her throbbing and contracting cunt with thick ropes of his milky white spend.

Astarion wasn't done with her yet.

Panting, sticky with sweat, and full of come, Tav asked Astarion where he wanted her next.

“Stay on your back, my dear. It’s the easiest position for a newbie, like yourself.” Astarion answered, as he put lubrication on his cock, as he was still hard after coming inside the woman he loved. “I love you, Tavaria. I love you. Thank you for your ass’s virginity and gifting me that along with our child. I won’t forget it.”

Astarion picked up Tav’s legs and pressed her knees to her chest which presented her prepped asshole to him.

“It won’t hurt. I’ll make sure of that, but if for any reason you feel pain, you need to let me know. Remember the safe word, and I’ll stop immediately if you use it or hells, if you just don’t like it, we can stop. I don’t want you to feel pressured into something you don’t want.”

“I want this. I want you and I want to give you this part of me.” Tav giggled at the next thing she said, “You filled my womb, why not fill my ass.”

Astarion made sure he had sufficient lube on her back entrance and his cock before he slowly started to slide in. True to his word, he never hurt her. Instead, she felt fullness as her fiancée was slowly filling her with him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. So damn tight.” Astarion sputtered as he wasn't sure how long he would last inside her, yet again, due to the vice grip her body had on his manhood. He waited once he was in completely and spoke again. “You’re not a virgin in any hole now, my dear. Thank you for the gift.”

“I think... I think you can move now,” Tav murmured as Astarion kissed her once more and began to thrust into her slowly and, at first, in shallow thrusts. He wanted her to get used to it before he thrust in earnest. Soon, she was moaning again as the fullness began to give way to pleasure.

“Yes, Astarion! That feels so good!” Astarion began to thrust deeper and deeper into her as he began to take her ass hard, fast, and deep. She was so tight and felt so good that he wasn't going to last long. He brought his hand back to her breasts and his other hand back to her clit, as he massaged the erogenous areas. She was in such bliss that she began to drool a little, her head thrown back and Astarion was doing everything he could to stave off his impending rapture. It was for naught.

With another strike or two, Astarion was coming once again into the tight confines of her sphincter; Tav wasn't far behind as she crested for the third time that night.

“Fuck!” Astarion cursed as he slowed down and rode out the end of their fun session. Tav looped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him again.

“How did that feel?” Astarion asked as he finally stopped thrusting and began pulling out of his betrothed. He set about cleaning up and setting a bath as he awaited a reply.

“That felt so good. Can we do that more often?”

Astarion chuckled. “Anything you wish, my love, and it is yours.”

Eventually, the couple got cleaned up enough that they could enjoy their time in the tub as they soaked their aches and pains away. They still had something they had to talk about.

Astarion’s parents.

[reccyls]

Hideyoshi’s Sequel Summary - Blissful Route

Common route (ch 1-6) here

Just as Hideyoshi is about to charge into battle, the sound of approaching hoofbeats interrupts things. It's Nobunaga, riding into the fray. And not just Nobunaga, but every one of the Oda warlords. Though Hideyoshi and Mai are surprised to see them, there's no time for questions as the fighting begins. Mai is led to a safe place away from the fighting while Hideyoshi joins the rest of the warlords in the fight.

It's over quickly enough. A camp is established and Hideyoshi and Mai get some time to rest with everyone around as well. Although first of all, Nobunaga asks them for a report on what they learned in Sakai. THey give their report, but that's not the end of things. Nobunaga asks if Hideyoshi knows why Nobunaga is upset with him right now. Of course it's because Hideyoshi inconvenienced his lord by making him and everyone else ride out all this way, Hideyoshi says, bowing his head--

But it isn't that at all. It is because not once in Hideyoshi's prior letters to Nobunaga did he ever ask for help. Despite how dire their situation was getting and how much worse the rumors and attacks had been growing, they never thought to ask their friends and allies for assistance.

All of the warlords are in agreement. Even Mitsunari, though smiling angelically like always, can't hide his own frustration with how Hideyoshi and Mai tried to handle everything alone. They're part of the Oda forces, trusted and beloved companions of everyone present. Of course everyone's busy, but they're always busy, and never too busy to help their friends.

With this reminder of how cherished by everyone they are, Hideyoshi and Mai finally ask for the other Oda warlords' help to solve the Sacrificial Princess issue. And of course, everyone agrees to help. It is, however, getting late, so first Hideyoshi and Mai both look like they're in dire need of some decent rest in safe territory, where they know that nobody will attack them.

Mai and Hideyoshi have a moment together, and before long, Mai is asleep. Hideyoshi then takes some time to sit outside tending the campfire. Someone approaches to join him: it's Mitsuhide, with something to drink for the both of them. After exchanging some banter, as they are legally obligated to do in every conversation with each other, Mitsuhide sits down with Hideyoshi and they have a little heart to heart. Along with Hideyoshi, specifically, asking Mitsuhide for assistance with an idea he has on how to solve everything in one fell swoop. Because the plan that Hideyoshi's come up with isn't like him at all, it's something more subtle and behind-the-scenes, leaning to Mitsuhide's skillset more than his. But with the earlier reminder that Hideyoshi and Mai aren't alone, he's asking Mitsuhide for help on this plan.

And now we cut to two months. Hideyoshi and Mai are returning from mediating a dispute in a different province. Mai doesn't speak and she is wearing a veiled hat because over the course of these two months, her symptoms have gotten worse over time: it hurts people to look at her directly, and so does hearing her voice.

Over these past two months, what Hideyoshi and the other Oda forces have been doing is trying to rewrite the Sacrificial Princess rumor. Instead of being someone who is the embodiment of heaven's wrath and punishment, they are trying to spread the rumor that Mai is a blessed princess taking on the burdens of the world in order to help bring it to peace. Mitsuhide's spy network is helping to spread the rumor from major towns and cities, but in order to make this rumor a reality, everyone has been working double-time in order to quell the unrest and conflict throughout the country. That way there'll be nobody after Mai's life anymore, and they can keep the country at peace.

It's long, slow work, but they have hope that it will work. On the way back they stop to rest their horse, but this is when a young man (or maybe a boy/teen? I can't quite remember) has finally tracked them down, still believing in the original Sacrificial Princess rumor. He is still after Mai's life, and Hideyoshi of course won't stand for that. It's not very much of a fight, as the young man is untrained and driven more by desperation than any real skill.

But Mai then calls out for Hideyoshi to stop, and makes her way to the disarmed man. She knows that the people who are after her are all much the same: driven by desperation to stop the fighting around them that threatens their homes and loved ones. She offers him sympathy and understanding, as well as options for what he can do for his village. Presented with mercy he didn't expect, the man eventually becomes convinced of Mai not being the cause of disaster. He agrees to peacefully give up and return back to his village.

Now alone again, Hideyoshi asks Mai to remove her veil and look at him. She's afraid to at first since she doesn't want to hurt him, but Hideyoshi had just realized something earlier: when Mai had called at him to stop, he didn't feel any pain at hearing her voice. The symptoms are fading, because without the Sacrificial Princess rumor and with the Oda forces working to quell the unrest and return peace to the land, history is put back on a peaceful course. And that means that she and Hideyoshi can touch each other again, look at each other again, and speak with each other again as much as they want. Finally after those months of slow, hard work, they have their happy future together again.

(Side bits: once they do get back to Azuchi and the rest of the warlords are made aware of Mai's symptoms being gone, they throw a party to celebrate, of course. And of course all of them make sure to touch Mai (pat her on the head, arm over the shoulder, etc) "to confirm the symptoms are gone" but also to make Hideyoshi jealous :p

Also, when Mai goes to check her guidebook, she finds that the pages are still all blank, even though all her symptoms are gone. History has changed significantly enough that the future she and Sasuke are from isn't the same one as the future they are headed to now. And even though this does make her nervous, she knows now from experience that she and her loved ones can overcome any challenge as long as they are together. So she can face that unknown future with hope and optimism, no matter what it may be.)

[fallen-in-dreams]

CHAPTER ELEVEN on AO3.

Chapters on Tumblr: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.

Pairing: Gaara/Sakura.

Summary: Her descent into madness came after her friends were all dead and before she was sold off like livestock. To him. He knew a thing or two about madness. And there was peace to be found in the violence of that madness. Even if only for a time. Canon divergence AU.

Rated: Mature.

Chapter word count: 11,885.

Status: Ongoing.

Reminder: the tags/warnings are important.

Warnings: dark themes. Arranged marriage (not what you think). Eventual smut (level and degree of that warning being necessary is subjective). Death. Suicide talk. Self-harm. PTSD – expect some well-known symptoms and some not well-known ones. Please don’t read if you’re triggered by psychological &/or emotional-related trauma and effects.

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Hiya. Hope you're all doing well. :) So, I'm back. And this story is almost done. But I won't be updating every week - it'll be more like 1 or 2 weeks. The reason:

Sometimes chapters just want to get longer and longer and we really have no choice in the matter.

Unlike the last time I wrote out a fic in draft form then posted each chapter a week apart as I edited them, this story is trying to drive me crazy. 4k chapters turned into 6-9k and now THIS chapter is 11k. My editing process is squeezing that number count for all it's worth and it became so much of a chore. I really needed that New Year's break. So yeah, I'm going to slow it down a LITTLE bit. So I don't let it annoy me too much.

And I hope each and every one of you will join me for the rest of the ride. I can't wait to see what you guys think about what's coming. Cheers. :)

Enjoy. ^_^

Tumblr version:

… Chapter Eleven: To Kiss or Not to Kiss. ...

.:.

Oh love, believe me, Nothing ever comes to us easy, The river's never run up to meet me, Gotta find your own way down

-- Oh Love, by Phildel

.:.

How am I supposed to face her now?

Gaara stopped trying to figure women out a long time ago.

His argument with Sakura Haruno that morning weighed heavily on him all day. Whenever Gaara found a quiet moment or his mind would wander, images of pure fury and betrayal hounded him. Her pretty face screwed up in indignation and misery. He couldn’t get over the fact that Sakura had truly thought he was wilfully keeping her from her friends. It was just for a few moments but the level of pain that vibrated through her body still scared him.

Hours later.

Like so much about her already does.

So, he stewed in self-doubt all day, moving on autopilot as he went from council meetings to the lonely hours stuck working through tedious mission reports and high-level security reviews. Councillor Tōjūrō wanted this. Councillor Sajō insisted on that. And Councillor Ebizō inquired about their mutual concerns, via the not-so-silent Anbu they both trusted.

Gaara was beyond relieved when the working day ended, and he was able to leave. Most days, he stayed until late, and other times he simply took his work home. It had not escaped his notice that he worked too much. But what else was there? All he had outside of work were his siblings, and they had their own lives to deal with. So, most of the time, he had no-one.

And now her.

“Sakura!” Temari’s voice interrupted his thoughts as she called up to their house guest. “Dinner’s ready!”

Gaara clasped his hands together to hide the trembling of his fingers when Sakura finally descended the internal staircase for dinner. He forced himself to blink heavily to keep his vision from zoning out. Nerves and anticipation like he’d never felt before plagued him. It took all his willpower to keep from groaning in frustration at the strange feelings.

He watched pensively as Sakura sat down delicately. Swallowing heavily.

Sakura Haruno.

Gaara couldn’t keep his eyes to himself.

“Date her, talk to her, and try to figure out how we can help her in the meantime.”

Ideas began to swirl in his mind. Possibilities.

As the culinary genius of the family, Kankuro had cooked another magnificent meal. He was still in the kitchen, putting on the final touches as Temari started talking about how her own day had been. Since her decision to stay in the village she’d taken over the management of the guards and patrols of the village. Gaara didn’t know if she was trying to improve it or just scare them into line. Regardless, she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, so he gave her free reign to do (almost) whatever she wanted to them.

Temari stood to help Kankuro lay the food on the table. Sakura was staring at a spot close to the internal staircase, her fingers drumming softly on the table.

“Go get that date organised.”

Planning outings was not his thing. He’d never asked anyone on a date before. Expectation hung in the air.

“Let’s eat!” Kankuro yelled.

Dinner had always been a stiff but amicable affair. Every night, they’d sit around the main dining table to partake in one of Kankuro’s chef-level delights, talk would be minimal because they’d be enjoying the food too much to ruin the moment. But inevitably, someone would say something pointedly, and a casual, intermittent conversation would take place. Before Temari’s return, conversation would be carried by Kankuro’s attempts to make Sakura feel welcomed, strained as they were. Gaara would interject when he felt it necessary, with the occasional input from Sakura when addressed directly.

Since Temari’s return, his sister had not just driven the conversation, but wrenched it sideways and taken complete control of the reins. He wondered if was solely because of Sakura’s presence or a familiarity due to her connections to Temari’s former lover. Which begged the question of how much the pinkette knew about his fate.

Gaara gave a deep sigh that did not go unnoticed by the room at large. It all came down to lovers and friends and family, in the end. They were what truly mattered. Sakura coughed lightly and he glanced at her. Conversation would normally pick up at this point, but the air was unusually tense. He blamed himself.

Gaara hadn’t meant to hurt her by keeping the knowledge of her former allies from her. It hadn’t been vindictive. He just did not know where they were. He had his theories, of course, but nothing solid enough to act on. And this bothered him more than he could admit.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Or rather, Temari and Kankuro did, though they both paused a few times to glance at each other, like they were planning something. Temari had shifted to the edge of the seat, an eager look on her face. Sakura was pushing her food around on the plate, not eating. Like himself. Gaara had only taken a few bites before realising he wasn’t even hungry. And Kankuro was digging in, with gusto.

When Temari broke the silence, Gaara was grateful. For all of five seconds. Then he conjured a mental image of his hands strangling her.

“So…” She looked between Gaara and Sakura as she spoke. “It turns out one of the council members is a traitor, likely in cahoots with Danzo.”

Gaara glared at her. You did that on purpose.

She shrugged her shoulders with an air of indifference that he didn’t buy for a second. She’d been trying to convince him to let Sakura in on his ultimate plans for the Leaf Resistance, the future of Suna, and this Cold War. His sister wanted too much. He told her so. He’d been telling her so. But now, the decision was out of his hands. Sakura wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass. Kankuro put his cutlery down and leaned back, watching quietly. Amusement and curiosity danced in his eyes. Gaara could almost hear him thinking, well this should be interesting.

Sakura stopped playing with her food and looked up at Temari after side eyeing Gaara. He braced himself.

“How do you know there’s a traitor?”

“Through Lord Ebizō,” Temari said without hesitation. “Apparently, he’s been working with Gaara here.” She pointed her thumb at him as he scowled back at her. “They’ve found–”

“Temari.”

Kankuro made a soft sound the was halfway between a scoffed and snicker. Nobody paid him any mind.

Gaara glared at his sister. “She doesn’t need to know.”

She won’t be able to handle it, went unsaid.

He was aware of the insult to her person, but he couldn’t help himself. Kazekage or not, Sakura was under his care. She wasn’t one of his ninja. She was in no way his subordinate. Or professional equal. And as such, she was not to be privy to sensitive village information. He could not take responsibility for that. It was enough that he’d given Temari and Kankuro the highest security clearance legally possible for them simply because they were family. And the fact that they could handle it was beside the point.

This wasn’t a matter of trust. Sakura just wasn’t like them. Not anymore.

The pinkette scowled at him. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Gaara sat up straighter. He matched her glare with one of his own. It was to be a battle of the wills, then.

.:.

Sakura did not pull her eyes from Gaara while Temari continued as though she hadn’t been interrupted.

“As you would know, communications between different Kage are always done in code or with a Kage-only sealing jutsu.”

Sakura nodded still staring at the Kazekage. She’d seen Tsunade pen letters to other Kage numerous times in both ways. Shizune had been a pro at transcribing the Hokage’s frustrated and eye-twitching candour to something more diplomatic. Sakura had never quite mastered that skill. Where Shizune excelled, Sakura fell behind. Where Sakura shined, Shizune’s skills were lacking. In that way, they’d complimented each other as Tsunade’s most trusted aides.

“Well,” Kankuro added, breaking his own silence. “Lord Ebizō came to Gaara with copies of transcribed missives that had deletion points in them.”

Sakura nodded again. A deletion point was exactly as it sounded. Information that was sent to Danzo must have been deleted at Suna’s end but not Konoha’s. It was off the record information. The only legitimate reason to delete parts of a message on the official, final copy, was for Kage level reasons. And this was clearly a deletion that Gaara had been unaware of.

What it even meant, she couldn’t say. But there was another problem.

“How…” she started softly, fighting to keep her staring match with the redhead. “How did he find it?”

It was a dangerous thing to do, but also difficult to detect. One might say damn near impossible, considering they shouldn’t have a reason for even looking for it. And whomever discovered the deletion point would have to be exceptionally skilled at Cryptanalysis. At the very least. Had it been Ebizō himself?

Temari answered her unasked question. “A new jounin found it. He wasn’t supposed to be there, apparently. Was just covering a shift for a friend. He’s listed primarily as a sensor ninja but apparently started his prior chunin career as a Cryptanalysis specialist.”

Sakura nodded again, finally understanding. “Lucky.”

“Yes. But unfortunately, he couldn’t tell who made the deletions.”

Of course. Sakura would be surprised if he had. So, this jounin had gone to Ebizō instead of the Kazekage? Maybe because it had been a Kage level security issue, he’d instead gone to the only person whose reputation was both impeccable as well as unquestionable.

“But how does that mean a council member did it?” Was she missing something?

It was Kankuro’s turn to answer. “Nobody in this room but Gaara could do it and we know he didn’t. The next line of suspects are the senior members of the council. Councillors Sajō, Ryūsa, and Tōjūrō are the senior advisors who legally have access to Kage level information. Officially, anyway.”

Because of course the Kazekage reserves the right to not inform them of anything if he doesn’t want to.

“How senior is Ebizō?”

“He leads the council.”

Sakura blinked heavily. So, it could’ve been Ebizō but wasn’t, because he brought it to Gaara’s attention. So, he was the only one they could trust. Almost as though this whole thing was a test that Gaara had set up to suss out the reliability of his subordinates. Except that he couldn’t have predicted this jounin’s inclusion. It would’ve been a piss poor test if nobody found it.

Sakura tapped her chin staring back into Gaara’s seafoam eyes with something akin to calmness. Almost like she was a real person having a legitimate conversation.

Well, look at me, acting like a normal, functioning person. What would my mirror image hallucination think about that?

“Councillors Sajō, Ryūsa, and Tōjūrō.”

She didn’t know anything about Ryūsa beyond some murmuring that he might lead the council one day. Tōjūrō was a complete mystery. But Sajō? Oh, Councillor Sajō she knew. That was a face she’d never forget, the arrogant, pompous, prick. She had fantasies about strangling him with his own intestines on a daily basis. If she could, she would.

Her eyes drifted as Sakura imagined, once again, the choking sounds of the older man as she throttled him. It took a few more seconds and a clearing of Gaara’s throat before she scowled, realising what had just happened. In her distraction, she’d accidentally broke eye contact with him. When she looked back at him, the Kazekage was looking smug.

Shit.

.:.

Gaara couldn’t contain his smirk as Sakura broke their staring contest. Something clunking around in her brain had distracted her.

Good.

“Councillors Sajō, Ryūsa, and Tōjūrō.” Sakura mumbled to herself once more, angling her body away from Gaara and his gaze. He kept watching, his face falling into a frown as she ignored him.

“It has to be Sajō,” she said.

“Why?” Temari asked.

Sakura pulled a face. “I’ve had the unfortunate displeasure of being hounded by him. He’s an arsehole.”

“His personality is not evidence,” Gaara intervened, and she glared at him before turning away again.

Sakura pursed her lips. “I know it’s him.”

“Okay.” His brother was driving Gaara crazy. Temari added to the frustration by echoing his words.

He couldn’t sit here and allow this anymore. “No,” he said.

Sakura clenched her fists, her eyes darting over to the corner of the room; she’d jumped slightly, but there was nothing there to startle her. Sometimes, Gaara wondered about that. Hallucinations.

“This isn’t up for discussion,” he said.

It was a wonder his sanity was still intact, dealing with her. She slammed her fists down on the table, dislodging silverware and making his siblings jump out of their skins, but not so hard as to damage the structural integrity of the furniture.

“You promised,” she said scathingly, glaring openly at him, and he was reminded of their argument that morning. “You said you would tell me–”

“I said that we’ll talk later,” he corrected her.

“About the Leaf Resistance!” She yelled and Temari and Kankuro’s heads whipped towards Gaara. He could feel their confusion and surprise but ignored them. “About what you’re doing! You said we should talk. We need to talk. So, let’s talk damn it!”

“This cipher talk isn’t about the Resistance,” he growled. “Nor is the traitor councillor.”

“Do you know that for sure?” She snapped. “Or are you just presuming? What if it’s all connected, Gaara? What if none of it is a coincidence?” She was on a roll now, taking a deep breath before charging into her new hypothesis with gusto. “Danzo doesn’t want a strong alliance with Suna, and we all know it. I’m not actually here to marry you! What if my mission is part of a larger plan? Sending a Root member with me when those tiny little fucking bastards are not actually trained in diplomacy? You have to admit that’s suspicious! So, what if his connection with this traitor has something to do with the Resistance? Or to undermine Suna because he already has a highly connected ally within your walls! What if it’s all connected? Did you ever stop to think about that?”

Gaara blinked heavily at her. Her deduction was quite the stretch. But crazier things had happened and he couldn’t think of a valid counter point, so he would be remiss to completely rule it out. He sighed. But this wasn’t the place to discuss this.

“I can help,” she said, her voice suddenly soft. He didn’t respond. “He won’t expect anything from me.”

“We don’t even know it’s him,” Gaara said. He was fighting with himself as much as her. He didn’t want to push her out of this, but it was political. And she wasn’t a Suna native. It wouldn’t be treason, but it would be dangerous. For both of them.

Maybe I’m overreacting.

He had no clue. Sakura’s face scrunched up as though she was in pain and her head dipped. She closed her eyes and he imagined she was struggling to calm herself. Was she having a panic attack? Gaara felt a similar spasm grasp his chest at the thought of having done this to her.

I can’t do anything right, with her.

She stood up abruptly, not looking at anyone. Her hands were balled into fists and Gaara’s stomach clenched painfully. Guilt. He felt the urge to say something, anything, to keep her from leaving this room angry. But nothing came to mind. He sat there, with his mouth slightly agape, unable to say the things she needed to hear.

Why?

There was a war in Gaara’s heart. The urge to protect her. The urge to respect her desire to participate. The urge to keep her far from the machinations of the evil of this world. He felt like he was being torn in too many different directions. But he knew that above all, he was being incredibly selfish.

With no regard for her uneaten dinner, Sakura stormed out.

He couldn’t release the groan that threatened to bubble up his throat. Gaara remembered he still had an audience and turned his head minutely to glance at them. Temari was frowning at him, her fingers tapping the table soundlessly. Kankuro was shaking his head, his lips twisted in barely controlled irritation. Gaara let that effervescent groan escape his mouth. He was an arsehole. He knew it. Because his siblings had never looked at him with so much disappointment before. Even when he let a demon out to play havoc on their village as a blood thirsty child.

.:.

When will I ever learn?

She was too emotional. Always had been. Weak. Pathetic. Emotional little girl. Expected too much of others. Presumed too much of herself. Stupid.

Sakura stormed up the internal staircase and slammed her bedroom door closed. She didn’t stop there, grabbing the cactus Matsuri and Yukata had given her (what else did she have?) and throwing it against the wall. Not the back of the door. No, not the chronicle of her timeline in Suna.

Soil spilled onto the floor, but the succulent remained firmly in the pot. The hardy bastard.

She let out a long-winded, slightly high-pitched groan. One minute Gaara was open and treating her like a human being and the next, looking down on her and breaking his promises. She felt so childish, but Sakura didn’t care. She wanted to rage and yell and pound some faces into the ground. She let her anger broil and seethe as she turned and threw herself at the bed. Head in the middle and feet dangling over the edge, she screamed into the blanket for all she was worth.

Which isn’t much, let’s be honest.

It was best to muffle her more violent urges. Noisy. Yes. The last thing she wanted was for someone to hear her screaming and to come running. If they would even. She scoffed. Sakura groaned, then rolled onto her back, grabbed the pillow, and attempted to suffocate herself. It wouldn’t be the first attempt since her arrival at Suna.

Who am I kidding?

She wasn’t trying to do anything to herself.

Sakura gripped the pillow harder, closed her eyes tightly and then screamed again. The muffled sound only made her ears pop. She sighed and sat up wearily. She needed to stop doing this to herself. After so long alone, Sakura had started to think she was a part of something. Maybe something special. Probably just something not toxic. Not dangerous. Kankuro was personable. Temari seemed genuinely happy to see her. But Gaara… fuck, she had to stop wanting more from him.

She shook herself and stood up as the mirage floated into the room, through that blasted window. Sakura’s heart raced and she shivered. Had the temperature dropped suddenly or was she just feeling the aftereffects of her panic attack? She watched as the mirage as it turned on the spot and seemed to only just notice her, glowering now.

“I hate you,” she said with conviction. I really do.

“You brought this on yourself,” it replied.

“Shut up.”

Its smile was cruel. Sakura closed her eyes and sat back down on the bed; hands fisted on her thighs.

“He doesn’t care about you.”

“Go away.”

“You’re useless to him.”

She wanted to cry. A choked sob escaped her before she could stop it. No. She was in control of this. Sakura threw her pillow at the mirage. And of course it sailed right through that smug, broken, and bloodied face. It was happy and angry at the same time. How could something that wasn’t even real hold any emotions at all?

“Are you even trying to escape this stupid hell hole?”

No, apparently Sakura had completely forgotten she wanted out of Suna. How long had it been? She paused in her internal debate to glance at the back of her bedroom door.

Twenty-five days so far.

“Ugh.”

Between wanting in on Gaara’s schemes and her ink creatures, Sakura still had no idea what she was doing. Her creations had scouted the village outskirts and even memorised the guard positions and patrol routes. There was no predictability to times, but the places were all the same. It was something to work with, at least. But it was getting her nowhere.

Twenty-five days and all she’d accomplished was making a fool of herself in front of everyone.

Gaara didn’t want her help. Her creatures had probably escaped this hell hole, leaving her behind. There was nothing to do. Nothing but sit in her room like a good girl and wait out whatever plan Gaara and his siblings had. Once the traitor had been identified and proven they could then tackle the political mess Danzo had Suna entrenched in. And Sakura would be free.

And this time I’ll run.

She’d kill the Root shadow and run. Sakura grasped at her chest, grinning despite the hole in her heart. She didn’t notice the single tear at first. It contained all her hopes for being human again. She wiped at it, not sure what to think of it. But she was spared that particular, repetitive self-flagellation at the abrupt sound of a hiss. She started, spinning around quickly. Her kunai was still in the hole in the windowsill. Conveniently between her and the source of the disturbance.

I really need a better hiding place.

Or multiple kunai dipped in poison. Yes, that would be better. More kunai, more targets. She smiled ruefully at that, her focus snapping to the window. She breathed a sigh of relief when there was no attack but rather the shadows of familiar shapes.

They’re finally back.

The ink creatures. The vulture-like bird and viper shaped snake. They slid into the room through the open window, moving in tandem. Between the two of them they had a death grip on something. Something distinctly snake-shaped and presumably dead. A wide grin spread over her face, and they halted their movements.

“Yes,” she hissed. She inched toward them as the ink bird hopped impatiently, releasing its own grip. When she touched the real snake softly, the ink snake twisted its body, tightening its hold on the carcass. The snake was indeed dead. She sighed, relieved. That would make this much easier. The chemical make-up of venom did not change after the snake died. So, theoretically, she should be able to extract the venom and use it, no problem.

Sakura vividly remembered a description of the milking process from a snake husbandry book during her genin days in Konoha.

Press down on the back of the snake’s head after it bites the container. The fangs will drip out venom for at least fifteen to twenty seconds.

Those instructions had been for a live snake. She cocked her head at the dead one as it was still being half-heartedly strangled by living ink, at her feet. Well, hopefully its deceased status wouldn’t make a difference other than ease of access. Hopefully.

Do I do this now?

Normally, she’d wait for the other occupants of the household to go to bed before doing something she didn’t want to be walked in on doing. Right now, standing, staring, and contemplating her sanity carried a high risk of interruption.

Sakura glanced up at the clock. She’d only been back in the room for almost two minutes. It felt far longer. She sighed, resigned, and shooed her hand at the ink creatures. Trying to corral cats would be easier. They just sat and stared at her. Or rather, the snake remained motionless except for the occasional tightening of its possessive grip and the bird cocked its head at her. Much like she’d done a moment ago. Not that it made a difference if they suddenly started towards the bathroom or something, to keep out of sight. And this whole thing would be far safer if she waited, anyway. She’d already been waiting two days for their return to begin, what was a few more hours?

Still feels like I’ve been pacing impatiently for far longer.

She sat on the edge of her bed and closed her eyes. Her emotions had settled. She felt so drained. But not exhausted. There was an old meditation technique that Lady Tsunade had taught her, and she was just scooting back further onto the bed to try it when Sakura paused, startled by the sudden rush of chakra.

Gaara’s chakra.

Gaara’s knock on her door.

“Is he here to apologise?” She’d forgotten about the mirage. Its singsong, mocking voice floated over to her. “I don’t think so.”

She inhaled deeply, unable to stop the sudden hiccupping sob that sounded from her mouth. All the anger and fear and feelings of resentment and abandonment that had just disappeared, all the tension in her body, suddenly returned with a vengeance. How could one person, so innately collected and calm, invoke such a raging storm inside her? She hated it. And right now, she hated him.

“Stop lying.”

Go away.

He wasn’t going away.

Fuck the mirage. She wanted Gaara to leave her alone. But she also wanted him to persist. To show her she was worth the effort. That he cared. Sakura wiped at her tears and attempted to make her face look presentable. Maybe he would give up. In that case the only person who would see her tears was herself.

He knocked again.

“Sakura?” That deep, soft voice. Gods.

What is he doing to me?

.:.

Moonlight filtered in through her window as Sakura stared at the door. The ink creatures twittered and hissed, respectively, nearby and she wasn’t ready for Gaara to see them.

“Think he’ll actually call you crazy this time?”

Maybe. The mirage grinned at her thought.

“Sakura?”

Right, he was still outside her room. She fought the urge to flee. It had been her default state since arriving in Suna and it was beyond exhausting.

And embarrassing.

She glanced at the snake and bird before slowly opening the door half a foot and holding tightly to the frame to keep him from pushing it open. If he had such a notion. Sakura forced herself to look him in the eye.

The shame. His face was full of it.

“Hi.”

He nodded but before Gaara could respond, Sakura moved forward, placing a trembling hand on his chest, keeping her eyes on his. Pale green irises widened but he didn’t complain. Feeling more confident, Sakura pushed him gently and closed the door behind herself. In the hallway. Alone. Together. Her other hand found its way to his chest and Sakura felt his heart beat a little faster under her fingertips.

“It’s a nice night,” she said, her voice low and strong. Maybe. She had no idea. It just had to be strong enough to project confidence. Conviction she missed about her past herself. She was trying, really. “Let’s go to the roof.”

His eyes searched hers wordlessly, clearly trying to figure out what her plan was. What she was thinking. Why she was thinking it. Maybe even if she was trying to trick him. He’d deserve it, after that display during dinner, but Sakura tried for her most saccharine smile.

Seemingly convinced, he slipped his right arm around her waist and pulled her gently toward him, flush against his body. Sand whipped up around them and she couldn’t stop the light gasp for the life of her. Steeling herself, Sakura gripped harder to him as they disappeared from the hallway outside her bedroom and her centre of gravity shifted and they reappeared on the roof of the Kazekage mansion.

The cold night air hit her first. She shivered but didn’t complain. She expected Gaara to pull away immediately but his hold on her remained firm. Almost like it was his apology. Or he was working up to one. Sakura waited. And glanced around, remembering that the Root shadow would be able to see them from the outside, on the roof, even if he couldn’t hear them.

She could imagine that freak’s reaction if he was watching right now. Sakura remembered, one of the few times the masked man hadn’t berated her on their three-day journey to Suna he’d gone over her expectations on this mission. He’d expected her to lull Gaara into a false sense of security. To take advantage of him. To play the part of a girl being sold off.

Use your assets, he’d said, leering at her. It’s not like you haven’t done this before.

Danzo had not ordered her to sleep with, let alone woo Gaara, specifically. But it was in every look he’d given her before sending her off. It was in between every line in the official papers for this mission. Of course, she’d ignored it. Sakura hadn’t planned to be here this long. But here she was, with Gaara’s arm around her, and all Sakura could think of was that, technically, this was supposed to be a seduction mission. She hadn’t foreseen viewing Gaara as a sexual being. It had snuck up on her, now painfully obvious. Sakura knew it before but a part of her had also denied it, but it was true. There was no going back now. She wanted him.

Desperately.

But she was done hoping he would start anything. Gaara wasn’t like that.

Sakura started as his left arm came around to embrace her. His chin resting on top of her head, and he let out a soft sigh. It made her body tremble in response, and she wondered what he was trying to do if not turn her on. This was out of character for him. As far as she could tell. She inhaled deeply. And he needed to stop smelling so good too.

Because it’s hot as fuck.

She wanted to dominate him. The feeling wasn’t new to her but the chance to be the one in control, was. All she’d ever done is exude a fake version of confidence. Sex was methodical. A tool. To her, at least. And here was Gaara, making her want something else. Something more.

But how am I supposed to get that?

She had no idea how to instigate this. Reluctantly, Sakura released her hold on Gaara and after a few moments of what seemed like internal contemplation, he uncoiled his arms, removing them from her hips gently. Always the gentleman. Never the paramour. She cleared her throat and took a step backwards.

He wouldn’t want me that way, anyway.

She needed to get this under control. This level of intensity wasn’t natural for her. It had to be a side effect of either the prazosin drug she was taking or her anxiety. Post Traumatic Distress Disorder. She wasn’t so stupid as to presume she’d survived the last few years with her sanity intact. And it would explain so much.

“I’m sorry.”

Sakura’s jaw dropped at Gaara’s words. He was sorry. She blinked stupidly at him.

“For everything,” he said.

She nodded slowly, licking her lips absentmindedly. Yes, he’d been an arse. She could accept this. She stared at him for a moment, contemplating how to go about the discussion she wanted to have with him. He kept eye contact, obviously content with waiting for her input. She tried to smile but her lips quivered.

Sakura sighed.

“Councillor Sajō. He came to a few of the wedding planning sessions,” she said, deciding on a change of topic. “He was abrupt but otherwise respectful to the other ladies. But he kept glancing at me.” She shuddered at the memory. “He didn’t like what he saw. And he hates me. I know it’s not a lot to go on,” she added. “I’m sorry I was so pushy and defensive about it.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Sakura didn’t think he had anything to base that on. Sometimes she thought he had a secret file that occasionally leaked information about her to him, in minute amounts; just enough for him to get glimpses into her psyche, but not enough for a deep dive. Enough for his pity to sting her. To burn. And enough for him to think her some kind of helpless victim.

She stood straighter, shoulders pushed back, and chin raised. Sakura had never been good at hiding her feelings, even after the Root commanded that had trained her in the early days of Danzo’s reign got tired of her lack of control. The man had very little patience for emotional outbursts. He could teach her all manner of underhanded jutsu and Root-based tactics but mental conditioning to suppress her emotions? She was never going to master that. Not to his satisfaction, anyway. There was no seal on her tongue. Danzo didn’t stick needles in her eyes and brainwash her. No, he just had his subordinates torture her. Poke her full of holes. Heal her. Fry her. Rinse and repeat. She was fun to play with, apparently. Even more so than some others because an unwilling servant could scream the loudest.

“The council has always been difficult,” Gaara interrupted her thoughts, running a hand through his hair distractedly. He looked past her, as though someone had appeared suddenly, and she had to refrain from turning to look. But there had to be nobody there because his demeanour didn’t change. “They do like to make up their own rules sometimes.”

“I can believe that. Especially after that councillor started having me followed.”

Sakura was adamant that Sajō had. The Root shadow never seemed bothered by it. He’d even laughed a few times when she’d stopped on her way back to the Kazekage’s mansion, sensing the darkening presence behind her. Escorted by Matsuri and Yukata, she was shielded by their presence. Their limited protection. But the moment she strayed again; Sakura knew all bets would be off.

And who knows what Sajō is actually willing to throw down?

Would he have her cornered and interrogated? Would he stoop to physically attacking her? Maybe an attack like that would-be-assassin? He was making sure she stayed in line. After their run-in at the council building, she showed herself to be a loose cannon. And if Sajō was in league with Danzo, then it was likely the Root shadow would help him.

She explained all of this to Gaara, leaving out how her contemplation on how far Sajō would go intrigued her. If the old man gave her a reason to fight back, she would. Gaara frowned, concern marring his features.

“It has to be him,” she said.

“It’s at least a place to start,” he agreed.

Sakura smiled widely at him, warmth spreading over her face. Was she blushing? But hope had burgeoned in her chest, and she didn’t care, either way. His eyes softened as he stared back at her, and she had to push down the sudden urge to throw her arms around him.

“I can help,” she said. It wasn’t meant as a reprimand, but Gaara’s face shifted into stony seriousness.

“I know,” he said, his voice low and ashamed. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

She nodded. “You know… I can handle myself.”

“I know–”

“I just…”

Sakura glanced around the rooftop, remembering another night when he’d followed her up here and she’d killed a masked assassin. It felt like years had passed since then. Being here for the first time since then brought it all back. The blood on her hands. The rain gently trying, and failing, to wash it away. Her mind spasming in ecstasy at the opportunity to finally get to kill something. When she eventually turned back to Gaara she found him looking around in a similar manner, a faraway, contemplative expression on his face.

Does he think of that night often, too?

“We never talked about that night,” she said, and suddenly had his full attention again. “I killed a man–”

“Who was trying to kill you,” he interrupted, but she kept going, unimpeded.

“–right here. I tore into him. And I know you know I took pleasure in it.” She inhaled deeply, her breath shaky, and ignoring the way he looked pensive. “And I know you know… that I’m not…” She struggled to find the right way to explain how she’d lost the plot without sounding dramatic. But it wouldn’t come. Instead, she tried another angle. “Sometimes it comes in flashes. I’ll be okay one moment and then… I’ll just want to dig my kunai into something. Or even my bare hands. That ache. That desire.” She sighs. “I know you understand.”

Because you used to be out of control too went unsaid.

“And I see things…” She cut herself off quickly, not wanting to go further down that rabbit hole.

Gaara’s eyes had widened slightly at that admission, but he didn’t say anything. She was grateful for that.

Anyway…

“I’m not all there, I know. But I’m not so far gone that–”

“You’re not crazy, Sakura. You’re not worthless or useless or unworthy.” Gaara narrowed his eyes at her. His hands twitched, like he too was fighting the urge for them to embrace. She longed for that warmth again, shifting the weight between her feet nervously.

He stared at her intensely and she swallowed heavily in a vain attempt to stop the flow of tears. They stuck in the corner of her eyes in warning, and she tried so hard to keep them from falling, clenching her fists, digging her nails into her hands. Whatever she needed to do. Sakura nodded her head in agreement even as she refused to accept his sweet words.

But her gratitude towards this man was so strong that she couldn’t restrain the single sob from ripping out of her mouth. Now, she couldn’t stop the light tears now gathering along her eyelashes, threatening to obscure her vision. Sakura hugged herself as Gaara reached out to wipe the tears away. He was so tender and considerate. She felt like she was going to break from his kindness. It was good. But it was also torture.

Even after his outbursts and stubbornness to keep her in the dark, she couldn’t begrudge him forgiveness.

Sakura sniffed and leaned into his touch lightly, even as she was unable to bring herself to look at him. He cupped her cheek for a few moments, just holding his hand still against her before slowly wiping at her eyes again. When he removed his hand completely, it wasn’t done hastily or roughly. She didn’t feel rejected. She felt calmer. More in control.

“Sakura… I…”

What could he say? She didn’t know.

“Let’s go on that date.”

But apparently, he does.

She started, looking up at him in surprise. That came out of nowhere. But to be fair, it was something they’d already talked about. Once she got over the initial shock, Sakura found herself smiling her way through the mild panic at the thought of officially dating him.

“Now?”

He nodded.

“It’s a bit late.”

Gaara smiled wryly. “I don’t sleep much, and you don’t… have to go to the wedding planner tomorrow.”

That was true. It was officially her day off. She’d planned to spend it in the training grounds and also use some of that time to hone her ink crafting skills again. Sakura no longer felt the compulsion to escape Suna, though a deep seeded feeling of unease from merely being in Suna still ate at her. Everything she did now was just to pass the time, out of habit, or necessity. But this… yeah, she wanted to change things up a bit.

“O-okay.” She cleared her throat. “Yes. Let’s… uh,” she blushed, “go on that date.”

Gaara must have been thinking about this more than she realised. He rattled off a few ideas, all of which she could picture being interrupted and annoyed by the ever-present Root shadow in her wake. But several of the ideas sounded like they might just be in a no-go zone for her stalker.

Only one way to find out.

And it was a shame her mirage couldn’t be kept out of things as easily.

Sakura realised, as Gaara tentatively explained how this place and that place were in high security areas and had amazing views of the village, that of course the Shadow wasn’t allowed in all areas of Suna. She could’ve slapped herself for not thinking of it earlier. It was even likely he wasn’t allowed anywhere near Suna’s shinobi academy. All of this must have been covered back when they’d arrived and Baki had run down official rules to them both. She hadn’t been paying attention back then.

So many places I could’ve lost him in. Buried him, more like.

“Something casual,” Gaara was saying, bringing Sakura’s attention back to their impending date. Were they just going somewhere casual? Or was he talking about their relationship? Or maybe what they were going to wear? Well, there wasn’t anything casual about being engaged. It was still a farce, but it no longer felt trivial to her.

Okay, she could do this. She cleared her throat. “Yes, casual.”

Was that a smirk?

“We’ll need somewhere with food,” she added, ignoring the flush that his smirk had invoked along her body. They were both acutely aware neither of them had eaten their dinner. But Sakura didn’t want some homemade food for this. “Or money to buy some.”

“There are a number of acceptable vendors open this time of night.”

“Right.”

“I asked you out,” he said, his face tinging pink. “I will pay any and all fees.”

She wasn’t going to argue with that, since she was flat broke. It wasn’t like Danzo cared to pay her for any of her missions. She inwardly scoffed at the notion. The only things she owned were from before his takeover or what she’d managed to steal over the years. She would have to go through the clothes in the wardrobe in her bedroom. Again. At least there more options to choose from now, since both Matsuri and Yukata had made a point of restocking that threadbare closet.

“And I’ll change into something less... I mean more comfortable.” She spluttered. “I mean something casual.” She bit her lip in embarrassment. They were a pair of tomatoes. “Meet you back here in fifteen?”

Gaara nodded, his smile infectious as she returned it before turning on the spot and leaving him alone on the roof. She hadn’t even thought to ask him to use his sand, perhaps because she was still subconsciously remembering the ink creatures. They needed to be dealt with first, before she went anywhere.

Gaara will wait.

She knew he would.

.:.

The night was alive with the sounds and lights that made up the heart of Suna.

And the hounding footsteps of her eternal stalker. The closer they moved towards the lights and sounds, the further the Root retreated into the shadows. It faded into the background but refused to disappear completely. She would not turn her head to give it the attention it craved.

Instead, Sakura took in the sights and sounds, feeling like a proper tourist for the first time in her life. Gaara took her down a small path that led from the Kazekage mansion to the larger maze of interconnected paths to the thoroughfare of the village. From this narrow road, all other paths diverged. And his chosen path opened up into a lively and festival area.

There was no official looking celebration or staged performance, but the atmosphere had a similar ambience to them both. And the people were in merriment as though there really was a carnival going on. Sakura wondered if this was a new thing, because of the tensions of the Cold War and people just wanting to forget for a time, or if Suna had always occasionally held large-scaled revelries. Civilians behind the walls of any village, hidden and safer than most, couldn’t understand what it was really like out there, surely.

Enough of the doom and gloom.

The Root shadow followed as they moved deeper into the edge of the festivities, where the crowd was thinnest, keeping away from the louder groups. Far away. Some people turned to look at them; they recognised Gaara, despite his casual long styled jinbei, but Sakura’s casual shirt and trousers would not have screamed her identity more than her shocking pink hair. Even drab, it stood out. Fortunately, the crowd was sparse, having died down from the dinner rush, which meant the menu selections were limited but that suited them just fine.

Sakura tried not to notice how many people there really were. Nor the concerned look on Gaara’s face when he clearly noticed her anxiety. A few vendors sat on the outskirts of this rabble and Gaara steered them towards the first of the street food merchants, his hand on the small of her back. Sakura eyed the yakisoba but ultimately decided on yakitori. Gaara chose the same.

“I cannot take your money, Lord Kazekage,” the flustered merchant waved his hands frantically, when Gaara went to pay for it. “A treat for your lady friend. On the house.”

Sakura inhaled deeply, not wanting to speak for fear of setting off her anxiety. There were enough eyes on her. And the Shadow was ever present, even in the background. She took a deep breath and followed Gaara as he led her to an open dining area that was mostly empty. They sat on the tableless chairs and ate, just enjoying the distantly happy atmosphere and their silent company. It was oddly comfortable.

There was a tradition in Suna, or so Gaara had told her on the walk down the paths to this district. He’d learned about it from his brother. Like bar hopping in Konoha, this was called stall hopping – on dates or festival nights, going from one vendor to the next, buying a single, small portion of food, then moving onto the next vendor to repeat the process. It sounded interesting. Having finished their seasoned chicken, they now had their meat. Their animal protein.

The next stall had to be different. That was the tradition.

With Gaara’s arm pressed lightly and confidently against Sakura’s lower back, they continued to the next stall, which specialised in rice and seaweed as their main ingredients. Here, the vendor owner also refused Gaara’s money and ladled their plates with a serving of Onigiri and a shrimp tempura roll and ushered them to some seats nearby.

Sakura supposed it was good for business too, having the Kazekage seen at their stall.

“No, no, Lord Kazekage! I will not have it!” The third vendor followed the example of the previous ones, refusing Gaara’s money as well.

He was flushed at the intensity of their refusals and Sakura had to hide a smile behind her hand.

“Looks like they like you too much,” she whispered.

“Your lady friend will eat for free too.”

Gaara had clearly never actually done anything like this before. The novelty was something to behold. They both ordered a small bowl of miso soup, and this time chose to sit closer to the stall as they consumed their food. Sakura took the opportunity to study him as he delicately sipped at his miso, not bothering with the seaweed within the soup.

His sharp features made her feel nostalgia for the days when a pretty face would have her bumbling over her words or blushing just thinking about some boy’s eyes on her. She closed her eyes as images of Sasuke glaring at her popped into her mind. Her innocent, naïve days were over.

“They like you too,” Gaara whispered softly, and she looked over to see that he’d finished already. He wasn’t looking at her, but she took comfort from the gentle smile on his lips as he looked out over the scant crowd.

Her heart was hammering in her chest, but she tried to ignore it. She’d never been on a date before but had gossiped in her early years of puberty about all the different ways to go about it and how the boy in question would dote on her. However, none of them had involved stall hopping for a street vendor mixed with Kaiseki styled meals for an on the move dinner.

If only we could have done this without a stalker watching our every move.

She pointedly ignored the mostly invisible monster. When they were done, Sakura wanted the next stall to be a dessert one. Gaara pulled a face at the sweets before him, and Sakura laughed at the way he fake-coughed like it would get him out of helping her choose something.

Gaara turned his nose up at the dumplings and imagawayaki that Sakura had pointed out, making her giggle more like she was a real girl on a date this time. He really didn’t like sweets. There was no fried ice-cream, which she assumed he’d like better, but she convinced him to try some savory senbei. He didn’t flinch at the taste, and she grinned at him like she’d won a prize. His skin flushed a light pink, but he said nothing.

This merchant also refused his money and Sakura found herself comforting Gaara’s obvious unease by rubbing her hand along his lower back. The move surprised them both but except for a moment’s hesitation, she didn’t let it stop her from continuing. Until their food came and she focused on the task of consuming her dumplings without choking from embarrassment.

Their final vendor was a tea stand. This owner was just as impressed by the appearance of the Kazekage and finally, Gaara didn’t bother feeling too awkward about their insistence regarding payment. They took their green tea and decided to stroll out of the district, side by side, arms down, hands brushing against each other every now and then. And like naïve teenagers who’d never done anything romantic before, they wore identical looks of shyness and happiness. It was a great feeling. An unfamiliar feeling, for them both.

“I’m proud of you, Gaara.”

He blinked at her. “I should say the same.”

She smiled as they moved away, the food stalls gave way to a larger area. The food here came in restaurant size, but they bypassed it, keeping to the edge. But all good things do come to an end.

Because I’m a freak.

There was a commotion. Not a violent one by the sounds of it, but it seemed that some people were making a fuss in a crowd nearby. Yelling. Whooping. Drunken noises. Sounds that mimicked festivities that had gotten out of hand. The crowd was larger than Sakura was used to, and she hesitated on the threshold. She closed her eyes for a second to control her breathing, taking a small, unconscious step away from it. Her heart was racing again, her palms sweaty. Gaara stood silently and patiently beside her. He touched her arm softly when it was clear she wasn’t going anywhere.

“Are you okay?”

She couldn’t nod or speak, just trying to focus on her breathing. Her ears were ringing but it came and went quickly. Sakura grasped Gaara’s hand that had touched her, startling him. He took the hint and led her away from it. There were more commotions, but not as loud or out of control this time. The people were just having fun. Sakura didn’t know what had drawn their attention as she was not focusing on anything other than moving her feet and how warm Gaara’s hand felt against her skin.

And as they came to the edge of these newer sounds, she didn’t hesitate. “Let’s have a look.”

“Are you sure?”

He clearly was worried she wouldn’t be able to handle it, and he had reason to. She wasn’t exactly exuding confidence. But Sakura wanted to go down there and just check it out, at least. To find out what had drawn the attention of so many if not the usual things attributed to festivities, like games or fireworks. They didn’t have to stay for long. Just long enough to satisfy her curiosity.

Sakura reached out and entwined their hands before she could stop herself out of embarrassment. “I’ll squeeze your hand when I want to leave.”

He nodded, swallowing heavily and gently squeezing her hand in affirmation.

Okay, then.

Sakura took a deep breath. I can do this.

She’d already endured the inquisitive stares of the scattered people at the street stalls; this was just another step in the right direction. And if she could do all that under the eye of the Root, then she could do anything. It was just another challenge to overcome. And she so desperately wanted to overcome it.

They were recognised of course, and more than one set of eyes drifted to their entwined hands. Her skin felt clammy all of a sudden and a light squeeze from Gaara both set her heart aflutter and calmed her nerves. They only stayed for a few minutes. The lights were bright and the people, laughing and swaying, were loud and friendly. But she’d finally had enough.

Masks.

It was a mask gathering, themed not unlike the Matsuri festival back in Konoha. Not everyone was wearing a mask but there were small groups of impromptu dancers and some scattered musicians. They had the appearance of entertainers who had just come off some kind of travelling troupe but didn’t look out of place. Not like her. Sakura felt underdressed all of a sudden but pushed that anxiety down.

She gently squeezed Gaara’s hand, and he immediately steered them to a path that would lead away from the festivities. Like the interconnected paths she imagined it also led to the thoroughfare. But they didn’t get a chance to use it. There was a cry of something that sounded like frustration and excitement to her right and Sakura stiffened as a clearly very drunk civilian came stumbling as quickly as he could towards them. He made flailing motions with his arms, his face twisted in a grin and nonsensical words on his slurred and unintelligible tongue.

Ugly, rotten teeth. Polished and dangerous.

That peel of laughter wasn’t coming from the drunkard. It was seeping out of the shadows.

Sakura reeled, almost falling over. Gaara held her and she gripped his hand so hard she would’ve broken his sand armour if he’d bothered to wear it. The lights and sounds of the festivities brightened and blinded her. Hazy and screaming. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t ask Gaara for help. She couldn’t do a damn thing.

But true to his promise, Gaara was pulling her to him, flush against his chest. Sand whipped up around them, scaring off the drunkard. Sakura closed her eyes as the Kazekage teleported them away. When her feet hit the ground, she let her head fall forward onto Gaara’s chest. She felt the warmth of his hand on her back as he attempted to soothe her. Face pressed against his chest. Ascending numbers flashing through her mind’s eye. Breathing. Leaning into his embrace. Her body sagged. But she was calming down.

The Shadow is gone.

Sakura lost count of those ascending numbers, not knowing how long it really took for her to come back to herself. But she did. And Gaara moved with her as she pulled away, peering at her. Assessing her. Like he cared. She was learning to love those pale green eyes of his.

Fuck it. Why are you so good to me?

“Why…”

Gaara hushed her as she lost that train of thought. She looked around, realising she did not recognise the area he’d teleported them to. Sakura’s head swivelled around several times as she tried to take in the view. They were in what looked like a forest sanctuary. Or rather the kind of forest that Suna could provide with limited resources. The colour green was everywhere. Gardens. Stone pathways. And a dome nearby that screamed, “there’s a greenhouse inside me!”.

“Where are we?”

“The west gardens,” Gaara said. “This area is out of bounds. Only select individuals are allowed here, and only with my permission.”

More places the Shadow can’t reach.

She felt special. And she loved the place on sight. The foreboding pressure had released, and Sakura suddenly felt lighter than air. “Okay, give me a tour,” she said, not having to force her face to smile.

Gaara nodded, gently taking her hand once more. She soaked it all in as they walked along the path and he explained what she was seeing, in that simple but intelligent way of his. On paper, his words would sound clipped, but they came out so serene and husky that Sakura found herself hypnotised by them.

His voice.

She sighed. They found a bench and she let go of his hand before lowering herself onto it. She felt very nervous as Gaara sat beside her. Inches apart. She couldn’t decide which was worse: the way her libido occasionally went into overdrive around him or her current uncomfortable feeling like she was some virginal teenager who didn’t know how to behave in her own skin.

A shock of light and sound. Sakura whipped her head to the side in time to see an explosion of fireworks. She jumped to her feet quickly and scanned the horizon. Gaara stood and mimicked her pose.

“I forgot about that,” he said slowly, and she understood. This was a rare occurrence. Which meant she didn’t want to miss it.

Sakura took his hand and pulled him along as she raced towards it. Still in the gardens, they found the edge of the gardens that overlooked a significant portion of the village and she let herself fall backwards onto the grass. Gaara chuckled as he lay next to her. They had a great view of the fireworks erupting above the village.

They lay next to each other silently, just watching, leaning back on their elbows, and just enjoying the company. Eventually, the fireworks began to die down and, even though there was no hint of it on the horizon, Sakura was sure the sun wouldn’t be far away.

“Thank-you,” she said softly.

“You’re welcome.”

The stars twinkled. The blackness unable to mask their delight. She smiled at that observation. Sakura wanted to just lay here forever. Forget the Root shadow. Forget Danzo. Forget the council and Sajō and whomever it was that was colluding with the usurper Hokage. She just wanted to lie next to Gaara and forget the world. Or maybe she was more worried about getting too comfortable. The night was very, very late. She suppressed a yawn and had to physically stop herself from just flopping onto her back, in fear she’d fall asleep here and never wake up. Gaara, on the other hand, looked well rested. Or just not tired. Whichever.

She turned her gaze back to the stars. The blinking contrast between sparkles and darkness reminded her suddenly of her ink creatures. The light against the black ink sky. The way they seemed to fight each other for dominance. Yet nothing changed.

For almost a month, Sakura had been trying to find her way. Either a way out of the village or a way out of her own head. A path forward, made of the same stones as the ones in these gardens. And definitely not populated by the noisy nighttime carousers. But now, lying next to Gaara and wondering what this night would mean for their non-relationship, Sakura knew suddenly what to do. It was so very clear now.

She sat up straight and turned to face her fake fiancé turned real date, surprising him. He mirrored her movements, openly curious.

“Gaara,” she said. “I made ink creatures.”

Curiosity turned to confusion on his face. “Creatures?”

“Yes, chakra infused creatures made of ink.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her but remained silent.

“They’re hiding in my bathroom right now,” she added, knowing how weird that sounded.

“Why?”

“Why did I make them or why are they hiding?”

“Both.”

Sakura sighed. “I don’t think it’s a surprise that I didn’t choose to come here. Not under my own volition, anyway.” He nodded. “I… have wanted to leave the moment I arrived.” He didn’t look surprised. “The past few years all I could think of was getting away from Danzo. Especially the last six months, with him sending me on suicide runs.”

Gaara’s eyes widened. “He–”

“Let me get this out, please?”

He nodded again.

She cleared her throat. “I’m an idiot though. Every chance I got to get away, I squandered. Every moment in which I could slip away unseen, I freeze like my life depends on it. On my last mission I almost did leave. I saw the Konoha gate come up as I approached… it was so achingly familiar but alien at the same time. Everything about the Leaf is so… wrong, now. I wanted to get away from it. But I didn’t. Couldn’t bring myself to.” She sighed. “I guess I’m just as useless–”

“Stop.” Gaara scowled at her. “Don’t say that.”

Sakura hadn’t answered his question yet, but he suddenly didn’t seem to care. He rose to his knees and took her hands in his. They were warm and safe and not what she would’ve thought possible. Not for her.

“Sakura…” he trailed off for a moment. “it’s called self-sabotage. People do it to themselves, for years at a time even. It doesn’t make them useless. Or stupid. Or any other thing you’re thinking about yourself right now. None of that is true. I… spoke with a civilian therapist,” he said quickly, and she realised her surprise must’ve registered on her face.

A civilian therapist?

“I know what you’re talking about,” she said. “Its clinical term is Behavioural Dysregulation.”

It was a conscious (or unconscious) habit of doing things that were bad for oneself. It didn’t take a degree in clinical psychology to have heard of it, she supposed. Sakura had done quite a lot of reading on that subject, and similar, before everything went to shit. Lady Tsunade had wanted to begin incorporating mind healing into Konoha’s medical training facility.

Sakura gave a sad smile at that memory.

“Do you think…” Gaara cleared his throat. “You’d talk to one too? About… everything.”

Sakura pulled a face. “I don’t think a civilian would understand.”

The one Tsunade had proposed would’ve included both civilian and ninja therapists, though.

“Right.”

She watched Gaara closely as he released her hands and turned his head away. What he was looking at, she couldn’t tell. But his silence had an air of disappointment and contemplativeness to it.

Well, this sucks.

“I created them to scout out the village.”

He looked at her sharply.

At least he’s looking at me now.

“So, I could see the weakness in the guard patrols and escape.”

“Have you?”

She shook her head. There was no relief on his face, only contemplation. And… was he curious about them?

She decided to presume he was. “You want to see them?”

“I’m curious.”

Sakura flushed. “O-okay.”

They stood quickly and awkwardly. For a moment, neither of them moved, but then the warmth of his hand enveloped hers; his free arm snaking around her waist and holding her tightly. Gaara teleported them directly into her bedroom. Sakura trembled lightly as her feet hit the floor, but whether from nerves or the return of her libido she wasn’t sure. Her skin tingled, so maybe it was excitement. She pulled out of his grip quickly.

“Wait here,” she said and Gaara obeyed. She rushed into the bathroom and low and behold, the bird and snake were still holding onto the carcass.

Snake, she thought. I’ll call the ink snake ‘snake’ and the real, dead one ‘serpent’.

But the question that she needed to answer, and quickly before Gaara grew impatient, was whether or not to bring both. Sakura still wanted to keep secrets from him. She liked him. She trusted him. But she also didn’t trust her faith in him. Some things she just didn’t want to share.

But I told him I made creatures. As in, plural.

She sighed. She could always make more, anyway.

“Let go of the carcass,” she said softly, hoping Gaara didn’t have superhuman hearing. The ink bird released its hold while the snake curled its body for a moment, tightening the hold like a child refusing to behave. Then it was releasing it, dropping the carcass carelessly.

As she stood up, Sakura caught the reflection of herself in the bathroom mirror. It was very different to the underfed and ghastly image she’d seen the last time. She paused then smiled and turned away.

“Come on,” she told them, and the bird hopped along the floor after her. The snake seemed hesitant, and Sakura wondered if maybe she’d done something wrong.

She reached down to grab it, and it quickly wrapped its body around her arm gently as she left the bathroom. The bird twittered as it followed and then screeched at the sight of Gaara. He raised an eyebrow at it. Sakura had no idea it could do that. It didn’t have a syrinx, or any kind of noise making membranes, in its windpipe or otherwise. She wondered if it was just because of her. Sai had never mentioned anything about his creations having the ability to make noise, let alone having personalities.

I’m cracked so they are too.

It made no sense, but she supposed it didn’t matter.

It’s probably all just in my head.

Gaara watched them curiously. Sakura watched him nervously. He made no reaction to the noises the bird was making so she decided it was just all in her head. Even if he did twitch slightly when it went to peck him. Fake birds were not faster than a Kazekage. She decided to give him a rundown of her intentions with the creatures. He listened with rapt attention and Sakura found herself becoming more and more excited that someone was hearing this. Finally. She was rambling but it was kind of fun to have someone else to share this with.

“You used them to scout the village perimeter?” He asked when her rambling finally came to an end.

Sakura nodded, unable to stop the flush from heating up her neck. Was it okay that she’d done that? Probably not. But he didn’t seem put out. Maybe he was thinking about how it could help with that councillor? Or the entire council. Or maybe it was just her wishful thinking.

“What will you do with them now?”

So much for him thinking of this strategically.

“I want to help you.”

Gaara stood and walked over to her. He stopped inches in front of her. The movement could be confused with an attempt to intimidate her, but she knew he wouldn’t do that. Instead of trying to stare her down or talk her out of it, he reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. The small part of her that still responded to romantic and kind gestures was weak at the knees right now. Not the rest of her. Just the girlish side. She swallowed heavily, overwhelmed with gratitude.

“Okay,” he said finally.

“Okay?”

He smiled. “Okay.”

Sakura laughed. “Okay.”

The way he was looking at her… she desperately wanted to kiss him. Or for him to kiss her. But she knew he wouldn’t. Gaara would not presume such a forward action. He was poised. He was a gentleman. But gods did she want him to toss that aside and just fucking snog her. Maybe get in a few gropes and pelvis grinding.

Sakura forced herself to relax, realising she’d tensed up the more she contemplated the idea of Gaara pressing her against the wall. He didn’t look fazed by her weird demeanour. The snake tightened itself around her arm for a moment, but she ignored it. It wasn’t important. Trying to figure out whether or not to grab the Kazekage and pull his face down to meet her in a soul-searing kiss was important.

She cleared her throat.

“It’s late,” he said suddenly. “I should go.”

There was a flush on his face she’d overlooked in her internal musing. She was proud of herself for that. But her stomach clenched at the thought of letting him leave right now. She nodded though. It was very late. They were both going to be sleeping in a little longer in the morning.

All that does is make me wonder what he looks like first thing in the morning. Fuck.

What were the protocols here? Kiss him on the cheek? On the mouth? Make-out heavily then act like it was no big deal? Pepper him with kisses along his jawline, down to his neck and… fuck.

Focus.

Gods. Her libido again. She wanted to give into it so bad. But Gaara wasn’t moving, and she had to make a decision. She decided to just go with a peck on the cheek. It could be excused away much easier. Sakura stood higher to peck his cheek softly but couldn’t bring herself to pull away once her lips touched him. The warmth of his skin, the bright tinging of his ears; he was as excited as she was. That’s what she told herself. Why else would her lips against him make him blush?

Maybe I could…

She took a chance and turned her face towards his. They were closer than they’d ever been, now breathing in each other’s air. Sakura remained on her tiptoes. Gaara lowered his head slightly, but not far enough.

Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it.

When he licked his lips, she knew. Sakura tilted her chin up, angled her head to keep from knocking their noses together and pressed her lips to his softly. Their eyes closed at the same time. She parted her lips to envelop his then tugged on his bottom lip gently before pulling away completely. At the last moment, he’d opened his mouth slightly in a gasp.

No tongues were used in the making of this fucking perfect first kiss.

It was a chaste way to the end the night and despite her body wanting, no demanding more, she maintained their newfound distance, pressing a hand against his chest as they both recovered from it. Gaara had responded to her kiss, albeit in a small way. That was enough. She would continue this with him later, now that she knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him. It was late and she was suddenly very, very tired.

After a few moments, he hastily repeated his goodbyes in that cool but cute bumbling way she’d learned to love and left.

She smiled widely. For the first time for a long time, Sakura could say she was profoundly happy.

.:.

[c0rpseductor]

bitching and moaning post

i know the satanic panic was completely nuts and that nothing that was alleged in it actually happened in any way. i still hate seeing it mentioned so much bc so many people will bring up fucking false memory syndrome foundation talking points in response, like "they implanted false memories in kids to make them say this shit, remember that it's what happens to everyone who says they had a 'repressed memory' and that's always how they 'retrieve' these things in therapy, DID came out of the satanic panic and it's not a real diagnosis and the people who claim to suffer from it...uhhh idk made it up for attention and weren't really abused i guess!"

it's so fucking exhausting. i know i shouldnt have looked in the tags of that post and it's my own fault for upsetting myself. i just wish people wouldn't say shit like this. i hate feeling like nobody would believe me about what abuse i suffered in my family just because i had such difficulty with recall. like yes it is possible to forget parts of a trauma and still have it affect you that's why it's part of the diagnostic criteria for fucking ptsd. not everyone who claims to have forgotten something is making shit up or talking about like. remembering things bc of fucking hypnosis therapy. when i was in therapy most of what happened was me describing fucking actual abuse that was happening in my family right then and having nobody give a shit bc Kids Are Dramatic. nobody was trying to make me think i was abused because nobody listened to me about the abuse i was even able to articulate was happening.

and like. saying DID was fucking invented by the satanic panic isn't even fucking Accurate, but i'm just so exhausted of hearing it anyway. like ok so clearly the reason ive had all these symptoms since i was very young before i even understood DID was not "for television" (bc i legitimately thought it was like, a fictional parody of schizophrenia) is because um. ?????. yeah. no youre right when things happen to me i should definitely accept that i can't tell what they are and listen to the people who tell me that i'm stupid and nobody has ever abused me and that i can't ever trust anything i remember. you guys definitely have my best interests at heart. my dad was innocent! it was all a sexual fantasy just like freud said! nice men would never do those things! like. ugh. i just hate it i hate that i doubted myself all my life and felt so miserable going through abuse alone and being gaslit and people are STILL FUCKING DOING THE GASLIGHTING!!!!! bc they dont like. know what actually happened during the satanic panic and think loftus was right. everyone who was involved in the false memory syndrome foundation should be shot.

like. i dont want to question myself anymore. i dont want my first thought whenever i have flashbacks or get upset to be "i'm making this up. if i remember something bad it was imaginary, because nobody can forget and remember something bad. it must be satanic panic pseudoscience, somehow." why do some people think they're doing a service to survivors when they trot this shit out. idk.

i know it happened. long after i began remembering stuff my mom has alluded to my dad doing the exact same things to her, having the exact same attitudes and patterns and everything, and i think the only reason i remember anything more violent than she reports is because he understood i was forgetting things and could get away with doing stuff to me that he couldn't with somebody who would remember it. like, everything i remember is horrible, but it makes complete sense and is totally possible and doesn't contradict anything about like...my parents or my life before i began remembering or just basic things like "can someone physically do this." like my dad wasnt an evil cult wizard he was just a normal thug and rapist. idk. i just really did not need to expose myself to this stuff and it's my fault i did but. ughhh

[sysmedsaresexist]

Go Away, TPA

Now, look, I’m all for some well-informed, responsible self-diagnosing

I think if you have done your research, and there are hurdles preventing you from getting a proper diagnosis, self diagnosing-- with the understanding that there’s a chance you may be wrong-- is perfectly okay

I think once you suspect you have something, and you enter into those communities to compare your experiences to others, if you’re honest with yourself and others, and can change your opinion based on learning new information, then you’re responsible enough to self-diagnose when you’re confident that you’ve found a possible answer

Self-diagnosis becomes a problem when you’re not fully educated, and when, rather than trying to find the actual problem, you start shoehorning your symptoms to fit something that you WANT to have, rather than exploring all possible options

And for your own health, you NEED to explore those options, and be open to the possibility that you’re wrong

This thread by the TPA reads more like, “5 reasons to not look any further”

It reads more like, “5 rebuttals to people who think you should consider other options”

It reads like, “5 reasons to not trust your doctors’ assessments”

Or, even worse, it reads like, “5 reasons to never see a doctor, ever”

So let’s take a look together

So, point 1. Who are you self reporting to? Yourself? Your friends? The other people in the community you’ve joined, that are trained not to question your self-perception under any circumstances? Self-reporting is unreliable, that’s why it’s only one part of the diagnostic process. Telling your doctor your symptoms allows them to make a list of possible and differential diagnoses to consider. It’s directly related to point number 2, actually, which is being taken SLIGHTLY out of context here. Point is, this is not a... reason to self diagnose? Or a reason why it’s valid? It’s a... random factoid? It’s really a circular point. Like-- self-reporting leads to self-diagnosis via self-reporting. This isn’t a reason, it’s a trap. 

So, the first bit of number 2, here, is... a bit strange to include. Don’t let the numbers scare you-- TPA likes to use numbers to scare you. The average is 7 years for correct DID diagnosis, and that’s (1) for people who don’t know they have DID-- zero communication within their system (they tend present with a range of post-traumatic and dissociative symptoms that tend to hide the disorder) and (2), is a figure from over 10 years ago (Putnam, in 2011), prior to DID/OSDD becoming a more popular topic and the major push for more in-depth training for trauma and dissociative specialists. A lot of new research has come out that has encouraged clinicians to become more educated on the topic. 

It’s also really important to note that DID/OSDD are the worst of the worst disorders. Like any doctor, psychologists and psychiatrists won’t jump to the worst conclusion first. If your doctor diagnoses you with DID before trying the label of BPD, run. This would be like you going to a GP for a runny nose and them jumping to cancer. It’s extremely important to work your way up through the appropriate levels, and to take the appropriate steps of ruling out things that are more easily managed and treated. It’s frustrating, but it’s the right way to do it, and as more clinicians become educated in what to look for, the time it takes to work through the levels will shrink. 

DDNOS and OSDD are much more easily diagnosable, because of point number 1. If you’re aware of your alters, and can describe your symptoms accurately, then your clinicians can jump to the higher levels right off the bat. 

This still isn’t a reason to self-diagnose, and it doesn’t make self-diagnosis valid? This is literally just telling people not to bother with doctors because it takes too long. What is this? You know what they’re probably doing... Trying to get you to use their hotline instead, and we all know how I feel about that (it’s going to get someone killed, I swear to god). 

Now, the second part of number 2 just pisses me off. Stop calling DID/OSDD systems ‘plural’. 

Now, this is true. Most doctors haven’t had a patient with DID, but most doctors aren’t dissociative specialists, either. Part of the code of ethics for therapists is to recognize what you can and can’t treat based on your education and experience, so most doctors that aren’t trained in dissociation and trauma will refer you to another doctor at the first sign that it’s out of their sphere of expertise. But again... It doesn’t make self-diagnosis valid. You’re just scaring people away from getting help from doctors by telling them it’s impossible to find one (it’s not, it’s about knowing what kind of doctor to look for, WHEN YOU’RE LUCKY ENOUGH TO BE AWARE OF YOUR SYMPTOMS, mind you), and that looks really bad when you’re constantly pushing your ‘no guys, seriously, it’s totally not a crisis-hotline’ hotline, manned by unlicensed and untrained ‘peers’ that will counsel and talk to you. 

BUT I DIGRESS, let’s move on. 

Two words: Confirmation Bias

This is probably the worst reason on here, and it probably encourages people the most to just... stay away from doctors. If you think you’re plural, you are, therefore, who needs a diagnosis anyways (you’ll see at the end how effective this one is) because it changes nothing. It also puts DID/OSDD on the same level as endogenic. The TPA likes to push that they’re exact same thing, except those with DID/OSDD are disordered plurals-- and they’re having trouble with their symptoms :( Poor uwus

And if you’re not having trouble, you definitely don’t need a doctor, just their super special hotline, and if you ARE disordered, their hotline can help! Everyone wins, for a monthly subscription fee!

Number 4... This is... stupid. It’s just stupid. 

If you can’t give someone DID, then the only other option is that you ARE DID! Clearly! And there’s absolutely zero chance that you’re misattributing your symptoms or confused about the presentation! You know you best :) And suggesting anything to contrary is harmful. We must accept everything at face value all the time, no questions asked. We are all truly omnipotent. Trust me. I’m my own doctor. 

This is the only valid point in the whole thread. If they had just put the first tweet, and then this tweet, and then it was end thread, it would have been fine. It would have been perfect. 

Everything else here is unnecessary fearmongering.

Oh, and look, it works. 

The TPA. Making the world a better place, one tweet at a time.

[oncexinxmyxdreams]

Encanto OC Event Week 1: Francisca Cordova

Moodboard for Francisca ♟️

(Major spoilers for Miracles Come in Pairs, but I can't hold them back anymore.😅 )

Full Name: Francisca Valencia Salazar Cordova.

DOB: May 24th, 1920.

POB: Villavicencio, Colombia.

Likes/Hobbies: Books, coffee, chess, organizing, piano and solving mind games.

Dislikes: Social interactions, overly emotional people, migraines, vomiting and concepts she can’t understand. Always annoyed when Alejandra’s mice get in her stuff. Also dislikes avocados due to a bad experience.

MBTI: INTJ

Height: 5'7"

Hair Color/Style: Black hair, shaggy pixie cut. Partially covers her ears. Has natural curls which are Type 3C. It used to be past her shoulders, but she cut it too short and it's growing out.

Eye color: Forest green with warm brown encircling the pupils. She has central heterochromia.

Sexual Orientation: Asexual/Aromantic.

Voice: Natalia Reyes.

Positive Traits:  Intelligent, logical, confident, astute, faithful and caring.

Negative Traits: Insensitive, combative, judgmental and arrogant.

Habits: She's done her best to avoid smoking because she did it often as a teen. She only has a cigarette now and then if stressed.

Talents: Sharp memory, keen eye for detail and sketching. Can imitate voices well and skilled with piano. Linguist.

Pets:  A brown cat named Litzy. Francisca rescued her from drowning and nursed her to health. Litzy was only a couple weeks old then. Francisca wanted to sell her since she didn't care for another pet. (Alejandra's got her mice and steeds.) However, when she had a bad migraine, Litzy snuggled against her and somehow made brought comfort. Litzy stayed ever since. Not necessarily a pet but also has a mule for travel named Vendaval. She trusts him more than Alejandra's horse and he's bigger than a common mule.

Favorite Food: She'd say coffee, but she likes Almojábana or Arepa Boyacanese.

Career: The town doctor's assistant.

Family: Fraternal twin to Alejandra. (Francisca's the firstborn by 15 minutes.) Only close to her mom Mercedes Reyes and never was with her dad Pablo Salazar. Had her maternal grandma, Perla, not died when she was little, she'd have another close family member. Honestly, don't bother asking her about her other family. She has no interest in them.

Backstory: Despite seeming a little slow with learning to crawl and walk, Francisca became an intelligent child. She learned to read on her own and play chess. She quickly learned piano and understood mathematics. It wasn't really appreciated. Francisca was (and still is) antisocial. She's never been good with interactions. She can be arrogant and even sardonic. Pablo tried to bond with her, but always found it difficult. Honestly, he tried doing things a normal child would like, not see what his daughter enjoyed. Most of her family thought she was too strange and unpleasant. That and she as she grew older, she wasn't afraid to call out...um, BS... when she saw it. This made her the black sheep. Family would say that despite being smart, she was heartless. Anyone who knew the family saw her that way. There was gossip. The only ones Francisca gets along with best is Mercedes and her own twin Alejandra. They never saw her as a problem. 

Francisca started getting migraines at 5 years old. Her family figured it was genetic. Mercedes's father was reported to have these often. It included the symptoms of light sensitivity, nausea and vomiting. Even with the pain, Francisca's never been afraid of a hard day's work. She's never been intimidated by learning and built up so much knowledge which has helped her. Work smart and work hard.

After her parents' separation and living in Cali, near the rural parts, she was a farm hand tending big fields. She spent any free time at the libraries learning about languages and science. She researched every medical book she could find to cure Malaria while Mercedes was slowly dying. Only 15, Francisca was heartbroken losing her dear mother and concerned for the future. She couldn't let grief and worry overcome. They needed someone to lead and provide. She'd do it. Having to survive on their own and being fired over her behaviors, Francisca found herself desperate. She used her wits as a con artist. She could talk her way out of anything when she analyzed a person's weakness. She had developed no qualms of breaking up relationships, sowing distrust etc. You do what you have to do right?

She was noticed by a group of brothers who were impressed and offered to let her join their con artist team. It worked for a couple years, until things went awry, and they offered a deal Francisca despised. It was asking for Alejandra to spend a night with one of the brothers even if it meant by force. Francisca refused and threatened even when they threatened her. They wouldn't take no for an answer. Francisca managed to trick them into getting arrested. One of them was killed in a fight. Though she didn't kill him, Francisca was arrested. She reassured Alejandra she'd get out soon by convincing the courts. Her confidence got the best of her. 

Francisca wasn't able to fool anyone, and she was angry her tactics failed. AOn top of it all, she became terribly ill in prison and grew frail. What ailed her, the prison didn't know and sent her off to another place. She was in a whirl of nonstop pain as her migraines grew worse: the worst pain of her life. Alejandra wasn't allowed to visit or even told the new location! It was a minister who stepped in and helped her slowly recover. He believed her story and encouraged her to find a new calling than tricking others. It took a long time, but they finally got Francisca free. She was overcome with joy to reunite with her twin. Those 6 months was the longest time they'd ever been apart.

Now to the movie's timeline. Some things haven't changed for Francisca now that she's 30. Migraines still persist, she can still be insensitive to others, but she still lives with Alejandra. Francisca continues working hard but found her new calling as the town doctor's assistant. Impressed by her medical knowledge, he offered the job, and she gained many experiences. She's helped save lives, deliver babies and fix broken bones. It doesn't change the town's opinion of her. She's been nicknamed, the Green-Eyed Viper, Heartless and Perra. They'll joke about her. "You know where Francisca Cordova will go when she dies? Nowhere. She's soulless!" "Ay Cordova, have you sold your soul? Oh wait. You couldn't have! You never had one!"

Francisca knows all of that but doesn't let it get to her. She won't let anything get to her. Not even a magical place with a sentient house and people with powers! Not even an old friend of her mom who just may understand her so well!

@encanto-extended-edition

[innerangeltoadlover]

2. The point of my story is as follows : after 30 years of reporting my sister’s abuse to my psychiatrists I only realized after my sister took my brother and I to Court in an effort to make me homeless – that my suffering had been dismissed by psychiatrists. No one should be abused while they are ill- however the fact that I was, and for decades should bring into question the competence of doctors ability to prioritize a patient’s environment over their illness. Psychiatrists have a habit with the mentally ill of being economical with their words – this means that you never really get any concrete advice when you have a problem. The accepted thinking on this (apparently) is they want you to solve problems on your own . However it is also because once you are diagnosed a psychiatrist is very reluctant to validate the conclusions you make under your own volition. This lack of validation prevents them from being held responsible when problems with advice can arise, which is understandable , however the client whom they are treating actually needs real help and strategies which are often way beyond mere monitoring. As my story will show, this continuous lack of authentication can have devastating consequences- not only on a person’s sense of self but can also allow all kinds of abuse to continue unfettered. I am sure that just as abusers are fine tuned into finding opportunities to abuse so too are psychiatrists tuned into creating a distance between themselves and their client that in emphasising a scepticism of their clients testimony can in turn create a safe refuge for the ruthless. This results in a completely disempowered patient without any ability to fight abuse on a meaningful level. The diagnosis allows a psychiatrist to sit safely within your condition and remain neutral . If a session becomes uncomfortable a psychiatrist will always bring you back to the diagnosis in order to address existential questions. Abuse is therefore viewed in the context of illness as aggrandised and a symptom of your illness. For me this resulted in an endless loop effect with my doctors and a worsening of my condition. This terrible skimming over of significant and hurtful life experiences ensured I eventually ceased whining and became their irregularity. Their answer to your problem is a pill (lots of em). Pills do not stop abusers but they do give them the opportunity to enjoy feasting on the carcass of their victims because that victim is exhausted on virtually every front. There will never be real repercussions for abusers because -as I have mentioned- our perceptions are so displaced that our conclusions (according to psychiatrists) cannot be trusted. I was not so impaired that I did not know what abuse was. In the main schizophrenics are not dribbling in a corner unable to carry out daily activities. However , doctors are guilty of bypassing counterintuitive instances when assessing behaviour. For the most part I was guilted into not standing up to abuse because my psychiatrist would constantly remind me that my parents who I lived with had a right to see their grandchildren and obviously during my sisters visits she also had a right to abuse me- it is only now that I realise how covert discrimination can exist between a doctor and patient and the load I was expected to carry.

Since the retirement of my previous psychiatrist I have come to realise that there was absolutely no reason why I did not have a right to defend myself against my sister other than my psychiatrist skilfully weaving a reason not to (the grandkids). However I do realise now – (unfortunately) that the only reason a psychiatrist discourages a schizophrenic abuse victim from confronting their abuser is because that abuse is viewed as part of the illness and is henceforth unbelievable. So within that weave I am burdened with the responsibility of having to maintain my composure as my sister roars at me. I am responsible for my parents ability to see their grandchildren . In fact I am responsible for holding together a family unit by remaining silent and respecting my doctors because they are of course thinking only of my wellness . As I have grown older, I know that any abuse victim would be shaking their heads in disbelief and that this is a manipulation. Many would say that I should have moved out of my parents home which I did on a few occasions though I would always move back. However I was unable to work until much later in my life. Looking back I was completely unsupported though my psychiatrist would like to say I had great support - abuse was downplayed and my parents visits to her enabled her to act as a puppet master.

[joycrispy]

Hi, do you have any tips or advice on how to get assessed for ADHD for a woman in her 30s? Thanks in advance and apologies for the sudden message.

Hello! I'm sorry I'm only seeing this message now!! I sincerely hope my response isn't too late. So --I'm not qualified to give medical advice of any kind. All I can do is report on my own experiences, and to be frank...my experiences in this area are disheartening. I had to kick and scream for years to even be assessed by my GP, and then for several more years after that for that assessment to be taken seriously. Since my diagnosis in 2019, I have been receiving treatment for only a cumulative 8 months (and only 3 of them through the GP in question). The gaps in that timeline were filled with the most insulting, time-wasting ableist bullshit imaginable. I won't get into it.

In the end, I had to turn to private healthcare, and while I'm profoundly and infinitely grateful for the care I have since received (stand out example: they initially declined my request to be prescribed an anti-depressant, and just from reading my tone when I said 'okay' to that [heartbreaking] news, the nurse discerned that something was deeply wrong, asked me about it ("What are you feeling?"), and then re-presented my case to the pharmacist with the new information. I had my anti-depressants a day later, and no single act by another person has ever had a greater positive impact on me. I like to think I would have stuck it out no matter what, but there is a chance this person saved my life), the fact remains that I'm paying hundreds of dollars every month for support that is supposed to be free, in my country.

If I didn't have insurance through my work, I would not be able to afford this. That nurse would never have heard me say 'okay.'

So. On top of not being qualified to give medical advice, I don't feel qualified to give encouraging advice, either.

I wish I was.

But...That's just what happened to me. That doesn't mean that's what's going to happen to you. I'm no doomsayer: over these last few years I've met so many kind, compassionate, informed doctors --who were not MY doctors and couldn't help me, but who must have been absolute gifts to their own patients. I hope you will be lucky and get one of these doctors, or REALLY lucky and already have one. Someone who is listening and who knows their shit can make all the difference. One nurse made all the difference for me.

This is the only 'advice' I feel comfortable giving: become as informed about ADHD as you can --the symptoms, co-morbidities, treatments, everything, everything-- before seriously engaging with any doctor about it. That way you're empowered to advocate for yourself, should the need to do so arise. And if the worst happens and your doctor starts blowing smoke up your ass --well, you'll recognize it right away, and you can respond accordingly. Knowledge is protection; protect yourself from what happened to me.

Conversely, you'll also be able to tell when they DO know their shit, and they ARE listening to you. And that moment is so affirming, it's worth studying up for.

The better informed you are --with correct, up-to-date sources-- the more you will trust yourself and the worth and validity of your own experience...which is invaluable when navigating any kind of health issue, but especially disability.

So...yeah.

As for the research itself: I'm going to recommend Dr. Russell Barkley as a starting point. He's the name every competent doctor has given me. A lot of his work is widely available on free platforms like YouTube --anything else, I think I'd better leave to the experts, like him, to say.

[anti-radqueer-zone]

i have a few things to say on your "not normalizing mental illness" posts

not every mentally ill person even wants help/therapywhatever in the conventional sense some of us dont trust therapists and want to work through these things either alone or with someone else we trust. therapists are mandatory reporters and sometimes that makes going to therapy a hard no.

a lot of therapy doesnt even WORK for everyone that does try it its just venting to some stranger whos being paid to sit there and give you advice that a lot of the time you could look up yourself for free therapy needs a lot of work done to it as it stands

normalizing mental illness and normalizing doing whatever ways to help themselves/cope that do not nonconsensually harm others would both help the people who are mentally ill but dont feel that seeking help in the most conventional sense is for them and help everyone who does want to go to therapy by making it more of a thing thats just "go if you feel you need it" and less of a "go if you are mentally ill" thing. if being mentally ill becomes normal people will be less averse to the idea of being mentally ill therefore more people will seek help if they want it or feel they need it.

I think we need to make a distinction between people with mental illnesses and mental illness itself. People with mental illness are their own people; they aren't their mental illness. It may change the way they act or experience life, but over all, they aren't the mental illness. I'm going to place that as a baseline, that I think of mental illness is a separate thing from a person who is mentally ill.

To address your first two points, I also do not believe that therapy is for everyone, especially conventional therapy like talk therapy. In my response to the previous anonymous question, I never stated what I meant by help. Help can come in many shapes and sizes. Yes,  one of them can be therapy, which is a widely accepted form of help, but it can also come from exposing yourself to triggers to heal; it can be making new connections, improving other parts of your life, finding government-supported housing because you may not be able to work, being given education opportunities, and many more things. I also think that even if someone doesn't want help or therapy, they need to be supported in some way to stop themselves or others from being harmed (because all mental illness diagnoses require harm to be done to the person or other people to receive a diagnosis).

To your third point, normalising and destigmatizing are two different things. Mental illness and, as a result, people with mental illness and how it presents should be destigmatized, and people who experience mental illness and its symptoms should be normalised; however, mental illness itself should not be normalised. By normalising mental illness, you make it a normal part of life when it isn't. Suffering should never be normal. The things mentally ill people need to receive help for should be destigmatized and normalised.

[jennianydotts]

Well, they may have an answer for me ..

🫢tho i dont know if it actually makes things better or worse --

Suspected misdiagnosis & treating of depression and adhd for bipolar 1 disorder, which includes my adhd and depression but also my addiction, eating disorder, mania or manic behavior, (BPD) Borderline Personality Disorder and in my case, less severe versions of paranoia and/or psychosis.

"Misdiagnosed bipolar disorder is sometimes discovered after people start taking antidepressants, leading to the onset of mania." They say it would also explain my sudden fits of rage, anger, and/or hostility.

I didn't start taking antidepressants again or adhd meds until i was 25, which would explain the late onset of sympoms or catalysts. We tried antidepressants when i was in high school, but i had a bad go of it, and i felt like it made things worse, which is why they added an antiphsycotic as an adult after the antidepressants AND adhd meds weren't working.

Another HUGE sympotm that is explained by this disorder (and SHOULD have been red flagged for me wayy earlier in life😡) is the suffering from "insomnia" or being unable to "shut off the mind" COMBINED with over-sleeping or the inability to get out of bed. (😮‍💨 Two symptoms which I've struggled deeply with since childhood and never found in the same diagnosis, until now)

In fact, as ive been laying here and really thinking on this, it truly feels like I can trace ALL of "it" and these "symptoms" back to being the ROOT of REALLY HORRIBLE choices I've made- 1 and/or

problems I've had(caused)- 2 throughout my LIFE,

as adult and child.

Causing the thoughts, feelings, and emotions I've developed -

- as adult and child

Leading up(lending) to the actions/reactions I've had -

- as adult and child

Resulting in the REALLY HORRIBLE choices I've made- 1 and/or problems I've had(caused)-

etc. etc. etc.

Substances and bipolar disorder

Antidepressants can trigger manic or hypomanic episodes in some people. It’s important to report any unusual symptoms to your prescribing doctor while on these medications.

Certain substances like Amphetamines can lead to a high that resembles mania. Others include: cocaine, ecstasy and very large amounts of caffeine

So, they've been feeding me exactly what they're telling me is the worst thing for me.

You want to talk about "self-confidence" issues😮..?

Try being literally unable to trust your own mind😰