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jellyfishbug · 3 months ago

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SEATBELTS FIRST

pairing. chris x reader genre. smut with plot ! this is part two of pop the hood f'me not proof read.

content; mechanic!chris, smut, oral (f recieving), fingering, p in v, unprotected (wrap ur shit or ill catch you), spit, slight dumbification, creampie, praise, dirty talk, use of pet names, swearing this one is shorter because theres less build up. anyway, sorry for edging you guys, heres pt 2 :)

I got the call around six thirty the next day.

I was standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter island in the center with an apple in my mouth when my phone started to buzz in my back pocket. I set my belongings down and struggled until I finally tugged it out of the tight sleeve and glanced at the screen, an unknown number displayed at the top.

I swiped my thumb to answer, pressing it up to my ear and taking the apple out of my mouth to speak, "Hello?"

"hey, it's Chris," I feel my eyes go wide, the apple that was once in my hand dropped onto the counter with a thud. "your truck is good to go- I can drop it to you when I get off."

I swallow, my mouth now paper dry as I reach to stop the apple from rolling off the counter. "Okay- yeah, sounds good. Thank you,"

I could hear the smile in his voice as he laughs lowly before replying, "can't wait."

The line went dead, indicating that he'd hung up. I lowered my phone away from my ear and placed it on the counter next to the apple and stared at it, momentarily averting my gaze to the clock a couple seconds later. He gets off soon .

I'd felt nervous about picking up the car; the night before, when I'd had to reluctantly deny his advances in the backseat to get home on time, he understood and said something along the lines of ''S okay, its not the last time i'll see you, m' sure of that."

But regardless, I felt even more awkward when I had to make him park at the end of the street so i could walk up and make it appear like I'd taken the bus to my dad, rather then have him watch me pulling up with a random kid in a car he'd never seen before. Chris just laughed and nodded at my request, pulling over near the sidewalk at the end of my street and leaning over to press a kiss on my lips, smiling at me when we parted. He opened my door for me with the other hand and said, "I'll call you tomorrow,"

And he did.

About an hour after he called, I saw my truck roll up through the kitchen window above the sink. Chris sat in the driver's seat, and I watched like an idiot as he popped open the drivers door and hopped down, running his hand through his hair mindlessly.

He was wearing a black t shirt that hugged him, partnered with a pair of light wash levi's. His hair wasn't hidden by a bandana this time; it hung loosley, some strands hanging on his forehead and eyes.

My keys were firm in his grip as he walked up the stone pathway. I almost forgot I needed to answer the fucking door, too busy watching him duck his head to avoid the part of my roof that hovered over the front porch, tooth pick in his mouth as he pressed two knuckles to the door and knocked lightly.

The noise of his hand meeting the wooden door startled me back into reality - I shuffled around in the kitchen for a second before I walked up to the front door, taking a deep breath as I twisted the knob and opened it.

His head snapped towards me, a smile appearing on his face whilst he looked me up and down. I did the same, sizing him up with a nervous expression before finally turning it into a grin to match his.

"Hi," he said softly, taking the tooth pick out of his mouth and leaning against the doorway. Before I could even respond, he opened his palm, and I glanced down to see a pair of keys.

I took them from his grasp and grinned, pressing my bottom lip between my teeth. "Thank you," I paused, "For fixing the truck and for bringing it."

He nodded. "Not a problem."

I look away momentarily, glancing between him and the setting sun behind him. I turn around to look at the clock again; 7:34. My dad isn't home for a couple more hours, and I really don't want Chris to leave yet.

He raises his eyebrows at me once my eyes were back on him, like he already knows what I'm about to ask.

"D'you wanna go for a drive?"

A grin is back on his face, this one open-mouthed so I can see his teeth as he licks his lips and nods.

"Absolutely,"

I drove this time. Chris sat in the passenger seat, grinning stupidly with his hand out the window resting on the roof from the outside. The windows were rolled down, and as a result the wind was blowing through the car loudly, leaving no room for any sound between us besides laughter.

Finally, we started to approach a red light. Once we rolled to a stop, a he turned to look at me, toothpick still resting in his mouth. I kept my eyes ahead, nervous to look back, but once i realized he wasn't going to look away until i did, I finally glanced over at him.

His grin was still there, cocky as ever. He took his hand of the roof and let it back in through the window, resting his chin on against his palm.

"Whatch'ya thinkin about?" He asked, his voice soft and curious.

I leaned back against my seat with my head hanging off the head reat slightly, pausing for a moment before answering honestly;

"Yesterday."

He swallowed thickly, and my eyes followed the movement in this throat. He turned to face the road and dropper his head slightly to huff laughter through his nostrils, "Oh?"

I felt my stomach flip, and an excited feeling flooded my gut. I nodded slowly and Chris shifted in his seat, a flustered expression on his face at my words. It wasn't flirting - it felt too lewd to be flirting. But whatever it was, It was fun.

The silence was sharp enough to cut skin. I almost wanted to jump out of the car and leave it running in the intersection with Chris in it, but instead, i felt a pang of satisfaction when Chris raised his eyebrows and asked, "What time do you need to be home?"

The clock on the dash told me it was already 8:30. At this point, It wouldn't make sense for me to go home anyway, and I didn't plan on ending this conversation anytime soon. "Whenever,"

He nodded, a simple acknowledgment of what i said, but he didn't say anything else. The light turned green, and we were moving again. The wind blowing was loud, but quieter now; quiet enough that i could still hear him.

"D'you remember what i said yesterday?" He finally said, turning to stare at me.

I thought for a second, all the words - both filthy and sweet - that we'd said the day before. "One thing specifically?"

He nods. I want to remember, but considering the sheer amount of possibilities he could be referencing, I shake my head.

He licks his bottom lip. "I said I was gonna get you off- but you had to be home . ."

My breath hitches in my throat, and my grip on the steering wheel turns knuckle white. I nod my head. He hasn't looked away, and his gaze is starting to feel like it's burning my skin with every glance.

"You don't have to be home now,"

It came out breathier than he meant it to - I'm sure of that.

Immediately, my mind goes to how uncomfortable shuffling around in the backseat is going to be, especially when theres still daylight and someone could see us, but as if Chris is reading my thoughts, he takes the toothpick out of his mouth again to speak. "Pull over- ill drive."

I nod, not wasting a second to pull over once we're out of the intersection. I pop the drivers door open, leaving it open and walking around to the other side to switch seats, closing the passenger door loudly.

Chris steps up into the driver's seat and shifts the gear, "My place, yeah?"

I'm nodding before he's even done talking.

We're moving again, and he makes no effort to hide his excitement, my eyes darting to the speed tick on the dashboard as he swerves dangerously through and across lanes.

I'm almost nervous my car will end up back in the shop before we even get to his house with the speed we're going, but if it means I get to see him again, it doesn't sound so bad.

His hand moves to rest on my leg, the other carelessly gripping the steering wheel with occasionally glances in the rear view mirror, as well as occasional glances my direction. I pretend not to notice, but the anticipation is burning in my core at the feeling of his eyes grazing my frame.

Before I even noticed we were in a neighborhood, we pull into a driveway. Chris pushes the gear into park and twists the keys in the ignition until the truck is off and glances at me, a knowing smile on his face.

"You good?"

I must've looked red and flustered, and part of me knew that because of how hot my face felt, but embarrassment still lingered in my thoughts as i nodded.

"Yeah,"

He shakes his head and laughs lightly at my response, turning to open the door and step down. I watch as swings around to my side of the car to open mine, reaching a hand out to help me step down, smiling once my feet are on the concrete and the door shut behind me.

As we approach the front door, he fiddles with the keys on his carabiner before finding an orange one with "house" written on it in black sharpie. He unlocks the door and opens it with a small creak, glancing on either side of the living room before turning back to me, signaling me to follow him inside with a tilt of his head.

We walk up the stairs and down a small corridor before reaching the room at the end of the hall, wooden and covered in stickers. He opens it and waits for me to enter behind him.

Once i'm inside, i glance around to take in my serroundings; his bed is in the right corner of the room, neatly made with a handful of pillows carelessly thown against the headboard. Theres a small desk at the other end of the same side, and a handful of license plates carefully hung up above the window. Theres sports memorabilia too, some hockey sticks in a pot and a framed jersey hung near the closet.

I step closer to the frame, tracing my fingers along the glass to examine the fabric. "You play hockey?" I ask, glancing back at him with my hand still against the hung jersey.

He laughs, walking closer to me with his hands in his pockets. "Used too- haven't really played much since I graduated,"

I nodded with a hum of understanding, letting my hand fall back to my side as i walked back towards him. He studies my movements, and once i'm in front of him, i reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind is ear. I purse my lips, eager to fill the silence thats suffocating the both of us. "D'you street race?"

He makes a puzzled face, evidently surprised at the random question, eyebrows furrowed as he tilts his head at me. "Uh, yeah. I mean- sometimes with friends, or on roads in the middle of nowhere for shits and giggles. Why?"

I shrug. "You just... go really fast," my hands are still running through small strands of his hair. "And you swerve- but it's controlled and clean, like it's really familiar to you, or like you do it a lot - so I was just curious."

He grins, raising his eyebrows and stepping ever so slightly closer to me to peer down at me through hazy vision. "You starin at me or somethin?"

I feel my face flush pink and I roll my eyes, my hand finally falling away from his hair. "Maybe."

One of his hands leaves his pocket to draw circles on the waist of my jeans, still eyeing me mischievously. "I don't necessarily like racing for money," he says, his tone honest. "I just like the adrenaline of it- feeling your heartbeat in your throat n' shit. Its fun."

He gently drags one of his hands down my lower pack and puts it into my back pocket, pulling me closer to that we're pressed together completely. "Maybe I'll take you sometime,"

Before I can respond enthusiastically and tell him how much i'd love that, he hooks his other hand on my face with his fingers grazing the back of my neck, pressing his lips against mine.

I'm alarmed for a second until finally kissing him back, my hands on either side of his head, brushing against the stubble on his face. He's kissing with intention; almost impatient, like he's been thinking about this just as much as i have.

It's not long before he's sliding his tongue into my mouth, tilting his head to kiss me deeper, the taste of marlboro red's strong and tangy on his lips. He groans against my mouth, the sensation making a hushed whimper escape me.

He's so fucking cocky with everything he does, the smirk on his lips condescending and teasing as he bites down on my bottom lip in between kisses almost hard enough to bruise. His hand slides out of my back pocket to rest against my back, pushing my lower half against him.

I pull back for a split second, eyes opening to glance into his momentarily, "you're a really good kisser."

He raises his eyebrows, and in an arrogant tone he responds, "oh yeah?"

I nod, a whiny noise building in my throat, growing tired of the absence of his pink lips and leaning back in quickly to kiss him again.

Faces still attached, he spins us around so that my back is facing my bed, walking us slowly towards it until my legs hit the frame and i plop down, frowning at the loss of the kiss.

He tugs at the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head before lowering to place one more kiss on my pouting lips, chuckling when my hands start to fiddle with his belt. "Lie down, sweetheart."

I furrow my eyebrows, "But I-"

He shakes his head, "No," he says, lowering to his knees in front of me. "It's my turn, isn't it?" His fingers trail along the waist of my jeans, fingers fiddling with the button. "Told you i'd get you off, didn't i?"

I lower my back against the bed, propped up on my elbows to eye him as I nod slowly. He grins, dragging my zipper down and wrapping his fingers beneath the fabric of my jeans, tugging them until they're completely off and forgotten on the floor next to him.

He leans down to trail open kisses from my stomach to directly above my core, then on the inner plush skin of my thigh, biting his teeth down lightly into the sensitive skin and swirling his tongue against the mark.

My fists curl against the sheets as I whine from the feeling of the bite, watching as Chris glances up at me with wild eyes through his eyebrows. He lifts his head and wraps his hands around my upper thighs, tugging until i'm resting directly at the end of the bed with my legs on either side of his head.

He tugs at the lining of my underwear, glancing up at me. "This okay?"

I nod quickly. "Please,"

He impatiently pulls them off me and tosses them to the side before continuing the previous action of kissing at my legs, and I start to squirm below him, impatient and restless.

"Patient," he says lowly. "We're not in a rush anymore, remember? 'Wanna take my time with you."

It's sweet; it is, but when he's hovering above where I'm aching the most lazily pressing kisses anywhere but where i need them, it just feels like torture.

"Chris, please, i don't care- jus' need you-" I'm cut off with a slight yelp as he's biting down again, harder this time, savoring the feeling of the soft skin in his mouth before pulling away and all but shoving two of his fingers into my mouth.

I swirl my tongue around his digits, the length of them causing them to brush against the back of my throat harshly enough to gag slightly, but i maintain composure as he slides them back through my lips.

He prods them at my entrance, lowering his head again to finally lap his tongue against my neglected clit. My head knocks back with a whine, lower lip between my teeth as he messily plays with the bundle of nerves.

He's cruel with his mouth, occasionally licking stripes up my cunt messily and groaning. My eyes roll into my head at the feeling of his stubble brushing against my inner thighs, feet shaking against his back as I dig my nails into the cotton sheets beside me. "Wet jus' for me, huh, baby?" he grumbles, his words muffled by me.

I part my lips to answer, but my jaw goes slack as he presses his spit covered fingers into my entrance, his mouth still latched to my slick folds as he pumps them in and out an agonizingly slow pace.

"Fuck," I hiss, one of my hands flying up to grip his hair. "Oh m' god, Chris." My back arches up slightly, but Chris firmly presses his free hand down on my hip, forcing me back against the bed and pressing his nails into the flesh to keep me still.

His fingers speed up the pace, and be grins against me as I whimper pleadingly. He lifts his head for a second to speak. "Yeah? Feel good?"

"So good," I babble, tugging harshly at the roots of his hair as he wraps his lips around my clit, swirling his tongue aggressively as his fingers continue to pump at a stupid pace, whimpers and desperate cry's of his name flooding out of my mouth.

"close?" He taunts, watching as my legs shake on either side of him. He replaces his tongue with his thumb and rubs circles on my clit. "gonna cum for me?"

The lewdness of his words makes the knot in my stomach get impossibly tighter, and I nod helplessly. My legs are aching to close as i chase the high, but Chris keeps them open effortlessly.

I finally snap as his fingers curl against a specific spot inside of me, a loud cry ripping from my throat whilst he continues to sloppily thrust his fingers and mutter praises. He finally stops when i grip his wrist tightly, squirming and whimpering in discomfort from the overstimulation.

He licks his fingers clean and extends back to his full height to lean down and kiss me, "You good?" he asks genuinely, the palm of his hand pressed against my stomach as he rubs his thumb back and forth soothingly.

"Really good," I respond, a warm feeling in my chest when he smiles cheekily. "Good," he says, standing back up to unbuckle his belt and push his jeans down to his ankles, stepping out of them and leaving them bunched on the floor.

My lower lip mindlessly rests between my teeth, my expression flushed as i watch him palm himself through his boxers. He takes them off too, stepping closer to place his hands on top of my knees and glance down at me.

He wraps his hand around my wrist to gently tug me up, his fingers tugging at the end of my tank top a a silent request. I lift my arms and he pulls it off an throws it next to me. He leans down to kiss me again, his finger on my chin to lift my head up. "You're really pretty," he hums. I flush pink, the feeling of his eyes glancing over my frame stirring unfamiliar and needy feelings in my gut.

He cups his hand below my mouth, and when I glance between him and his palm dumbly, he clarifies. "Spit for me, sweetheart."

It felt almost dirty; too dirty. But when you compared it to me knee deep in the driver's seat of his car with his cock halfway down my throat and ducking to avoid the steering wheel a mere day prior, it felt like light work.

I pooled spit at the front of my mouth and spit into his palm. "Good girl," he hummed, eyes shifting down to his cock as he pumped it with his saliva coated hand.

He stepped closer, parting my legs and aligning himself with me before glancing at me. "Tap my thigh if you want me to stop, 'kay?"

"Okay," i say, bracing myself as he slowly starts to push himself inside me. My grip on the sheets turns my knuckles white, wincing at stretch, my walls clamping down around him.

Chris digs his teeth into his lip, and he pauses, glancing at my pained expression and my bottom lip that is also snug between my teeth, brows furrowed. "I know, baby. S'okay-doin' so good for me,"

I whine and shift below him as he finally bottoms out, his pressed firmly against me with his dick buried to the hilt. I want to squirm away and tell him its too much, but the painful stretch quickly turns to the pleasure of being full to the brim, and i dig my nails bluntly into his forearm.

"Fuck, so big," I gasp, looking at my lower stomach to see the clear bulge. Chris grins, and i know i'm boosting his ego, but the brain fog flooding through me isn't allowing me to bite my tongue.

"Takin' me so good," he groans lowly, hands still gripping my thighs as he starts to move, and i moan breathily at the feel of his cock dragging against my gummy walls.

He starts to pick up his speed, his grip on the sheets on either side of me tightening as his head hangs to watch my blissed out expression as moans escape my swollen lips, the grip i have on his arm turning animalistic. "S'good, fuck,"

He pulls his arms away to wrap around my legs to go faster, "Oh my god- Fuck," he grunts, and I mewl when he presses his hand down on my lower stomach to feel himself, applying just enough pressure to make my back arch, his dick pounding relentlessly into my gut.

"Yeah? You like that? 'Like how deep I am, baby?" He asks in a way that makes it so rhetorical when he watches my hands brush against his lower stomach mindlessly with pitful hiccups and whines escaping me. I want to answer him, but no words will form.

I'm starting to feel glad he didn't flip me over to fuck me from behind - the view of his pretty face and lips with his jaw dropped in a gasp was too good, and it only made my squeeze around him tighter, desperate to be filled.

"Too dumb on my cock?" he teases at my lack of response, letting his hand fall against my aching cunt to rub lazy circles on my sensitive clit. I squeeze my thighs together with a loud mewl, the pleasure raking through me like a wave.

"so close," I choked out.

It only encouraged Chris to press my knees closer to my chest, dropping his weight against me to fuck deeper. My mouth drops open silently as my legs begin to shake, the twist in my stomach snapping with a loud cry. My body trembles beneath him, his movements not halting as he fucks me through the high. I go limp below him, still whimpering as his thrusts turn sloppy. "Fuck, gonna cum," he rasps, pumping slower but deep. "Where d'you want it, baby?" i wrap my legs around his torso, muttering a 'inside, please.'

He curses under his breath. "Inside you, huh?" he chuckles, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. "S'that what you want?"

I nod rapidly, "Please, 'need it."

That seemed to be all the confirmation he needed as he presses his hips firmly against me, coating my walls in thick spurts of white. His nails are digging into my legs, panting heavy while he presses lazy, tired kisses to my legs before leaning down and doing the same on the side of my head.

We stay like that for a second, catching our breath. I feel an ache growing in my legs as they lazily lower onto the bed when he leans off of me slightly, glancing down through hazy vision. He strokes his hand on my stomach affectionately, his touch soothing and sweet as he slowly pulls himself out, whispering apologies when i wince at the sudden soreness.

"You okay?" He hums. My arms fall to lay against my flushed face as i nod, swallowing to aid my dry throat before answering a small "yeah," He brushes thick strands of my hair out of my face with his index finger before lowering his fingers to cup my chin, "Gonna get somethin to clean you up, 'kay? Hold on."

He disappears for a minute into his bathroom, coming back moments later in a fresh pair of boxers with a clean, damp washcloth in hand. He gently parts my legs, carefully cleaning the mess we'd made off of me, his thumb rubbing circles on my upper outter thigh with his free hand.

When he's finished, he tosses the towel on top of his hamper, and then turns back, smiling at my relaxed expression. He puts his hands on either side of my frame, leaning down to press a kiss on my red, bitten lips. When he pulls away, he hovers just a couple inches above my face, the chain around his neck brushing against my chest.

"Next time you have truck troubles," he murmurs, his gaze flicking up to mine. "Don't come to the shop - jus' call me, ill come pop the hood for you."

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed :) reblogs, likes and follows are appreciated! ! criticism is also appreciated, its how i improve, but please be nice. links below . . . masterlists ! guidelines / info !

#Spotify #sturniolos #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #mechanics are sexy #jellyfishbug 🌺

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charmedreincarnation · 2 years ago

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Ya bitch got into the void state

Champagne anon here and your mf girlll got in the mf void state and manifested her dream life. This happened a week ago, and I’ve been chilling but I do wanna share my story to help others. Gotta give Thanks to Maya, and so many other bloggers and even anon. Y’all hoes will forever be in my heart, and I’m forever grateful 🥹 also Maya girl you told me when I succeed to get into detail and I got nothing to do for the next two hours so imaaa just share it all here in detail.

I also wanna especially thank all the black creators on tumblr!! I didn’t know there were so many of us using the law. It always seems the world is so against us, and there’s nothing we can do abt it but nahhhh!! we can all live our best melanated lives regardless. Periodt, as we should it’s about goddamned time after everything we’ve been though 😂

Anyways!!!! after reading this: https://www.tumblr.com/charmedreincarnation/717864613626134528/im-your-bubble-anon-but-i-made-this-burner-to success story yesterday I got hella motivated. I read that shit and I thought I posted it on accident because it was everything I had been through, and had been thinking anyways. That anon ate your tumblr habits btw. If y’all haven’t seen my good sis’s sucess post go check that shut out rn, On god it will help.

At the end that anon (my mf dawg 🙏) included that they manifested for everyone. Now ion know if that shit actually work tbh. I’ve seen people say you can and can’t, but tbh the vibes were too high for me to doubt. I was like ight, okay fuck it, ima leave my dream life. Whether it me, that anon, or the devil himself ion give a fuck.

So that’s whatssss a bitch did!!! I just affirmed all day it was very fulfilling. People who hate on affirming are mad corny. I can’t lie that shit works hella fast even if you don’t believe it. Idk if that anon’s void manifesting helped or what but I didn’t do much and after 3 months of trying I entered the damn void state. I’m mad I thought I had to be on some ghandi shit to do this (no hate to him hes da man) but you rlly don’t y’all. BUT LEMME TALK MY SHIT ALL YOU NEED IS AFFIRMING AND PERSISTENCE.

Anyways I went go bed excited asl!! I wrote my script that was like 10 pages long I can’t lie I did the most… but it’s whateva. I woke up in the void state after waking up at 4 am or sum, and i was like oh shityyyt lemme manifest rq and skrttt out this hoe. So that’s what a mf did 😂😂

Anyways the part y’all’s is waiting for. This is what ya girl manifested

Desired face and body. I was in shock how all the details came to life. Y’all im a solid 100/10 it’s giving natural bbl and Aliyah. I swear to gahhh everywhere I go people be trying to peep. I’m not used to being treated like a fucking celeb everywhere I go, whole time it’s just my fat gyattttt

Being the hottest 16 yr old IT GIRL at my school, and having lucky girl syndrome. People call me a mini jayda wayda, but tbh I’m better than her now. No hoe is ever gonna cheat on meee like they did her…bye. She’s still gorgeous as fuck tho

Perfect school life. Your girl is set to be the Valedictorian when I graduate (my school has 4!) I’m also sophomore year President, captain of the basketball team, apart of some volunteer programs through my school, and so much more. My resume and college application is abt to be so fuckin fire in 2 years. As I should Columbia is a competitive ass school 😤😤 that aside everyone always tryna link, I got 3 guys fighting over me (whole damn love square), so many people tryna be my friends, teachers love me, and I excel in everything I do.

My Family being rich assss fuck. My dad got a Wikipedia now and his net worth is 22 million dollars. He owns a hedge fund company now, we love a man in finance 😍😍 AS HE FUCKING SHOULD. He got a material gurlll daughter. Two in fact now.

Fire ass crib. Bro it’s a 9 million dollar penthouse, perfect for ragers. I woke up here and my room is decorated to my personality, pintrest clothes all in my closet, I got an exotic pitbull and frenchie, and the house is just mad clean and fire, I’m obsessed with it. Rarely ever wanna leave now.

My mom not being strict. That bald headed ass hoe use to be mad annoying. Y’all know how Haitians are. Mad annoying as fuck and strict for no reason. Now I go out everyday and come home at midnight and no one gives a fuck. Everyone minds their own business as they should.

Having an older brother and younger sister. I was an only child, because I was a miracle baby bc my mom was infertile. Now she got 3 of us, so she can stop being only in my buisness. I’m just playin I love my mom regardless she’s just hella clingy. Anyways my brother is mad protective but also be wrestling mad aggressive for no damn reason. He gave me a bruise but it’s whateva Ima get my lick back. I also always wanted to be an older sister, bc I’d love to be a role model! My sister is 10 and adores me soo much it’s so adorable 🥹 lmfaooo, she’s mad spoiled by me and my mom but it is what it is.

Successful lip gloss business and being a successful drop shipper. Now you didn’t think a sista wasn’t gonna give herself a career just because I’m young right 🤨🤨 we’ll ya wrong. Ya girl is making 200k-400k a year. I barely even use my money cause I got an allowance from my parents… but still, financial literacy and wealth is so important to me especially as a black woman.

A pookie bae. Y’all know I wasn’t gonna deal with finding a loyal cute and funny guy in nyc. It’s like finding a needle in a haystack. Anyways I got me a fine ass boo. I just wrote down all the features I wanted in him like for exampleS finically secure so he can spoil me, handsome as fuck, tall, funny asl, kind, little clingy, deep raspy voice, nice hand, good hygiene and style,yanno yanooo !!! Plus some other shit and whewww the void did me so good. Nowww my boo bear is a lil cracker and I’ve never dated a white boy befuh but my am I surprised. I wake up everyday with some long ass appreciation texts and plans already made ! Y’all know I love me a dominant man who knows what he wants. He’s got some nice ass clothes, nice car and crib, made me a passenger princess and spoils me way too much. He doesn’t complain abt my mood swings and simps in the best way possible. Not to mention he’s fine afkkk he’s giving vinnie hacker. He’s also 6’1 and I’m 5’1 so that height difference is soooo hot I can’t lie I feel so so safe with him 🫣 I could go on all day but in short he’s more than perfect

+ so much more but this is what shocked me the most. Anyways I’ve been living like this for the past week and it just feel so natural. I keep forgetting I got into the void but whateva I’m the only who knows anyways. Anyways live yo best life and neva give upppp. I gotta go but I’ll probably eventually make a blog. My names angela so look out for it. I’m just mad lazy soo idk tho !!!

Angela out 🫡✌️

Girl this was so fun to read, I’m just as excited for you lmfao. I love seeing black women win, and thank you for sharing your methods! Enjoy your best life and come back if it resonates with your life bae !!!

#law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting #void state #law of attraction #void success

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zombee · 1 year ago

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I feel like the luckiest Our Flag Means Death fan in the world after the season 2 finale. By a series of incredible circumstances - including a significant metatextual realization that came in at the 11th hour - it was close to perfect for me.

This essay has everything. Completely normal behavior over a television series. Steven Universe references. The David Jenkins School of Whatever is Best for the Bit. Humbling catharsis.

First: this piece does not exist with the central thesis of “it’s okay to not like something but that’s not the same thing as it being bad.” I feel like thousands of words have already been written on this since Thursday, so I’m going to try to not get too in depth on that.

Second, cards on the table, because it’s relevant and I don’t want to waste your time if this is going to sour your ability to hear me out: I’m an Izzy Canyon hater. For MANY reasons, but from way before the concept of the Canyon existed, (some) Izzy fans pinged me in the same way as Snape/Kylo Ren fans did, and before May 2022 was over I went from genuinely enjoying Izzy’s character and place in the narrative to hating him because his fans made it impossible for me to enjoy him anymore.

(SOME! of his fans. Please don’t keep making me say this, although I’m not going to talk about the Canyon directly anymore after this. I know there are a ton of normal Izzy Enjoyers and even Canyonites, I am literally friends with many of them, please take this all in the good faith it’s intended and if you’re not One Of The Bad Ones then you’re fine! I very carefully don’t go anti-Izzy on main, and when I stopped enjoying his character, I stopped writing him into fics. I’m not trying to be a dick, I just want to be honest. Anyway.)

The season 2 finale made me weep over Izzy Goddamn hands.

ALL season long, I was disgruntled. All season long. I really, truly, DEEPLY appreciated what they were doing with his character and arc, I thought it was wildly on brand for the themes of community/queerness in the show, I saw the vision, I liked it!!! But. I wanted a fucking apology, yall. I needed three seconds of “sorry I called you a slur, Ed :/” and that would have been enough. But I had to let it go. It was poisoning my enjoyment of the whole season, which I loved with very little exception (not none!) and I just had to let it go. I wasn’t getting an apology. That didn’t negate what they were doing with his character.

Yall. They withheld the apology on purpose.

THIS FUCKING SHOW!!!

Let’s go back a bit. I was at the episode 6 + 7 screening, and the breakup shook me. Probably a LOT more than if I had watched it alone in bed at 3am on my laptop - five days of no sleep after NYCC, lots of emotions, seeing it on a big screen with a hundred other intense fans, etc etc - but I did see other folks reacting in parallel ways to me when the episodes aired to the regular public, so maybe I would have felt the same way. Regardless, I was mad at Stede and to a lesser extent Ed. I NEEDED AN APOLOGY FOR THAT FISH LINE. I needed it! “Whativah” autocorrects to “WHATIVAH” in my phone. I was going through it.

(When I rewatched the episode when it aired it was not nearly as bad as I remember, lol)

So now the episode 8 screeners go out and the reviews drop and I think I catch one half-glimpse of a “What a heartbreaking ending!” kind of snippet, and some of my friends who are spoiler fiends unintentionally drop little hints about similar ideas (devastating/heartbreaking/split the fandom) type shit.

And I was a fucking WRECK! about it.

I do love this whole show with my whole chest. I do!!! But I’m not rotted because this is an excellent television show, I’m rotted because two old men kiss each other! On the MOUTH!!! in an excellent television show. You get it, right? I’ve written 700,000 words across almost 100 fics and 98% of them are dedicated to those two men falling in love in different universes.

So it just did not even occur to me the “heartbreak/devastation/fandom split” would be about anything but Gentlebeard.

Another piece of this that was fucking me up - David Jenkins and his “satisfactory” ending biz. My brain was reacting like this show was ENDING ending, even if I knew logically! that this is just season 2!!! And I wasn’t ready for that, because what if it wasn’t personally satisfying, and I’m a mess about it? Why was I so worried about not liking it? I’d liked the whole season! Even if they didn’t nail the landing I wasn’t going to stop writing fic or hanging out with my pirate community & friends.

…is what I kept trying to tell myself, but the way anxiety disorders work is funny like that lol. What if I did stop writing fic and hanging out in pirate spaces? That would hurt much more than a show I like disappointing me. And for anyone who’s having that experience with ofmd s2, I’m so very, very sorry. It sucks and that’s where my epiphany came from on Wednesday before the finale.

Because it has happened to me before.

I flit from hyperfocus to hyperfocus, as ya do when you’re spicy, but the last thing to get its hooks in me PROPERLY like pirates was Steven Universe. And I did NOT like the way the regular season ended!!! (I actually really did like most of Future; that’s not what I mean. I mean season 5). I don’t like how they handled the Diamonds, tldr; I think the scope of their villainy got too out of hand, and I was left grieving the thing that had meant enough to me I ran a fan convention for four years based around it.

Side note: imagine if I had channeled the hyperfocus of almost a million words of fanfiction into an American OFMD con instead. We could have made magic :( I did consult with Our Con Means Death though so I am at least a teeny tiny bit of that one!

I did not like the way Steven ended… but I do respect the story they were telling and think they told it well.

I’m still sad about it. Steven is still one of my most beloved, it will always be beautiful and great to me, but that experience did and does sully my memories. There is so, so, so, SO much more good than bad from being in that fandom, and I cherish it. And I hope, if you’re having this experience with OFMD right now, that you’ll find similar comfort.

But, like I said at the top, “it’s okay to not like something but that’s not the same thing as it being bad” has been belabored already by people better at writing about it than me. I just had the incredible privilege to remember my brush with lower case T trauma and having that experience in my last REALLY big deal fandom. That’s why I had been so extra anxious about being disappointed. Because it happened to me before. It helped so much to connect those two.

So the finale happens, and it’s actually about twelve hours of me going from “eh, rushed but fun, whole season was great” to “THIS MAYBE IS THE BEST SHOW OF ALL TIME, ACTUALLY!”

BECAUSE THIS SHOW MADE ME CRY OVER IZZY FUCKING HANDS!!!!

They literally told me this was the story they were telling this season. “Men can change” “The end of piracy” “Ed leaving Blackbeard behind (ish).”

As for me? I didn’t get an apology for the fish. Instead, I got “Sorry I was a dick.” “You weren’t a dick. Life’s a dick.”

Just… fuckity BAM. THREE FUCKING SENTENCES resolving that fight. Saying so much in so little.

In real life, should these two men have an actual conversation about this shit? Sure!!! But that’s not how OFMD tells its stories!

It works in symbolism. It works in vibes. It works in an hour’s worth of content into each half-hour episode, and for how much lamenting I have done about the pacing, I would prefer that 100x to having to stretch it out too much.

I have said since March 24, 2022 that OFMD wields anachronism as a weapon. First and foremost, it’s fucking funny, but in addition to that, it’s stating clearly: “This is a fantasy world. This is not real history. This show is about romance (and so much more than that), and the rest is just VIBES!!!”

Sometimes vibes can be historical accuracy. Sometimes vibes can be true emotional poignancy. Sometimes vibes can be Ed finding his sunken leathers in the sea, changing underwater somehow, and coming out of the ocean like the Birth of Fucking Venus, because water and rebirth and mermaids and shit is all very prominent this season. And ALSO, and this is very important! BECAUSE IT LOOKS FUCKING COOL!

I don’t want to do much real Izzy meta here. It’s been said by others, and better than me. But it was telegraphed and it was symbolic – he was the paragon of Traditional Piracy in season 1, for goodness’ sake, and Traditional Piracy is Toxic Masculinity, and he was a part of Blackbeard and Ed had to leave Blackbeard behind (yknow, ish), and he got this ABSOLUTLEY FUCKING LOVELY! storyline about appreciating what a (queer) community can do, and god fucking shit fucking dammit… most of all, best of all (for me), was Buttons landing on Izzy’s grave at the end. Men can change. And Izzy DID!!! He did it for Ed. For love. For community. I am puzzled by “it’s fucked up to use Izzy to further Ed’s storyline” because… this was Ed’s season, in the way that season 1 was Stede’s. And Ed cannot be removed from piracy as a whole (neither can Stede!) so to have this old, set in his ways, coded-queerphobic character blossom to the point he can give this gift to Ed and to piracy… idk man. I just find it so fucking beautiful.

It is okay not to like what they did. It’s okay!!! It’s okay, and it’s okay to mourn, and while it’s not okay to do [insert vile behavior here], it’s okay to carefully examine what you think is “bad writing” vs “what you would have preferred to happen” and give good-faith, textually-based criticism on that.

But I want to remind you over and over and over again, this show works on vibes. It tells its stories leaving many, many, many gaps. There are many things I would have liked to see, and y’know what? I would have told the Izzy story differently. I would have personally done it differently. But it’s not my show! It’s not my show, and I am humbled and delighted to remember that, and to appreciate Our Flag Means Death for what it is and not what it isn’t.

Other words have been written better than I could about the 18 months between seasons 1 and 2 and what that does to us as rabid fans with expectations of how things will go. Millions and millions and millions of words have been written about OFMD, fictional and non, and that is going to color our expectations and experience. We had built it up SO MUCH in our minds and along the way I think some of us forgot (INCLUDING ME!!!) that it is first and foremost about Vibes.

The vibes of Izzy’s death are about rebirth and forgiveness and leaving traditional piracy behind. And he got to die in Ed’s arms, knowing (HAPPILY!) that he had been wrong, and giving Ed the gift of letting him know he is loved, and being a part of something. We had a funeral but we also had a wedding. The only constant is change. Men, piracy, Blackbeard; it all changes. And Izzy found peace in that.

Before my last point, I want to @ myself on things I felt versus realizing in the end it is (I will say it until I’m blue in the face) about vibes.

· I was convinced they left Buttons’ transformation ambiguous because they wanted to leave room for it not having been real. NO!!! It is real, until they decided it isn’t. Magic in the OFMD universe? Fucking why not!!! IT’S SYMBOLIC!!! IT’S IMPORTANT TO ED’S STORYLINE AND THE CENTRAL THESES OF THE SHOW!

· I was unhappy, and still am a little, about the Polycule Situation, but now that I realize Oluwande is Zheng’s Stede… I am less so. The Zheng : Auntie :: Ed : Izzy vibes, btw? Fuckin immaculate.

· Obviously they touched on Stede/Ed’s “killing people trauma” but I’d reallyyyy like Stede to address it, and even though I think Ed’s is left on a very satisfying note, I’d like him to dip a bit more into it as well. But if they don’t, oh well! It’s not like they ignored it, they just didn’t have a Deep Dive like I Wanted Them To!

· They didn’t deal with Ed throwing Stede’s shit away. They just ignored it! Stede started to collect new trinkets, and I believe that was as much about giving the audience back the old feeling of the Revenge as it was anything important (not to say it wasn’t also important thematically!!!). Just like Ed going back to his leathers is both Extremely Important thematically and about putting Taika back in the leathers because that’s what Blackbeard should be wearing for the epic final scenes for the sake of visually keeping the show consistent. That’s Blackbeard’s uniform.

· Stede’s frilly little outfits my beloved. God I hope they give him back some of his frippery in season 3. I think they will re: cursed suit BUT his journey this season was about something else, so!

· Ed’s stupid little non-profit non-apology, oh my god. It was so funny. And there is a transition from eps 5 to 6 where Ed is back in his leathers and the crew is more comfortable around him. They didn’t have to have him do a Real Apology, it’s implied it was all settled. What was the timeline? A day? DOESN’T MATTER, BABY, VIBES!!!

· Lots more, I’m sure, but now that I’ve tried to let it all go, I’m remembering less of what I wanted and appreciating what I got!

And, last point here, I think it is also very very very important to remember that a lot of people are normal about this show. In fact, WAY more people are normal about this show than aren’t. And that is EXTREMELY! IMPORTANT!!! because otherwise it wouldn’t be profitable and we all know what would happen then. We are the core of it, to be sure. Without word of mouth that stems from our intensity, this show would not be NEARLY as successful as it is. I truly, truly believe that.

But.

Do normies need deeply emotional discussions dissecting the central relationships? No. What normies need is Ed and Stede running dramatically toward each other on the beach and kissing. And I am happy, so fucking happy, to realize that’s what I need too. I’ve got fanworks for the rest.

I love this fucking show and this fucking fandom and its fucking creators so much. Fuck.

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd s2 #ofmd season 2

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artist-issues · 9 months ago

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I saw you answer an ask on Toy Story, which was super interesting, and also say:

"It’s an incredibly good movie series. Not Toy Story 4. But the rest of the series."

I didn't actually see Toy Story 4 because I felt the first three tied the story up very well, and we got a really good arc through those first three. It just felt unnecessary, and what I did see from it didn't make me eager to go out and watch it.

Could you expand on where you think Toy Story 4 goes wrong? If the other three convey selflessness, living and finding purpose, then what does that Toy Story 4 try to convey? Does it contradict the others?

I think Toy Story 4 goes wrong by trying to make Woody selfish. I mean, you could say that he isn't selfish to leave Bonnie and his friends and embrace the "Lost Toy" lifestyle. You could say "he just went from taking care of one kid who didn't really need him anymore to taking care of every lost kid who could need him, and finding lost toys homes. That's what was happening with the lost little girl at the end!"

Okay, you could say all that, but you'd be wrong, because 1) that is not what was happening at the end. And 2) even if it were, that is not a selfless ending for Woody. Furthermore 3) it undoes all his character development and progression from the first three.

You didn't see the fourth movie, right? So let me break it down a little.

Woody's character progression goes like this:

1: Obsessed with being The Most Important Toy to Andy --> Remembering that what's great about being a toy is being there for Andy when he needs them, regardless of how often or special that is.

2: Fine with no longer being The Most Important Toy to Andy, but considering leaving because Andy will eventually not need him, ever --> Realizing that being there means being there, even if it's just to watch and love from a distance, instead of protecting yourself to no end.

3. Committed to Being There even if he's not needed --> But this includes being there for his friends, even after they choose to abandon him and the mission. (It's important to note that Woody only offers ((by getting in the box to Bonnie's)) to leave Andy if Andy chooses to give him to a kid who needs him more.)

The whole idea is that Woody belongs to someone. He's not his own. He's a toy. Toys belong to their kid; they don't have the right to just leave. If they did, they'd be bad toys. Because you never know how much a kid will be heartbroken, or whether or not they might need you down the road. Every movie before Toy Story 4 is Woody doubting that, but then coming back to it. That's why in Toy Story 3, when everyone is in Andy's Room sad because he won't play with them and he's about to leave, Woody is totally onboard with staying in the Attic for years—because maybe they'll get to be played with by Andy's kids. He's loyal, and selfless, because he knows he's not his own. He's willing to go to Bonnie only because it'll mean staying with his friends where they're needed; but ONLY if ANDY willingly gives them up.

Enter Toy Story 4.

Woody's having a hard time adjusting to Bonnie's Room because 1) he doesn't get played with, his role in the games is taken by Jessie. So he's right back where he was in the first movie, stuck in a closet watching another toy get played with. And 2) Dolly is the leader of the room, so he's not even really allowed to be helpful to his friends during their off hours, because she's got that covered. So he feels directionless.

UNTIL Bonnie goes to school for the first time. She's not allowed to bring toys. Dolly is fine with this but Woody goes anyway because he's sure Bonnie will need something.

And in this beautiful first portion of character development for Woody, he does not sneak out of the backpack and get Bonnie to gain comfort from him, her one and only toy, at daycare. Even though he totally could've. He could've seized his moment in her heart. But he didn't. Because he already learned that lesson in Toy Story 1-3: he doesn't need to be everything to the kid. He just needs to do what's best for the kid, and to do that, he has to be there.

So instead he throws her a bunch of craft supplies to play with when nobody sits with her. She gets distracted by making Forky, a toy made from a spork and some pipe cleaner.

Bonnie is, from that moment on and throughout the rest of the movie, without exception, OBSESSED with Forky. There is no other toy in her mind. But Forky is a lot like Buzz was in the first movie after learning he's a toy: he doesn't understand what's so great about that, and would rather go back to being trash. He keeps trying to jump in garbage cans while Bonnie's family takes a road trip. And for some inexplicable reason, none of the other toys really care about this. But Woody, knowing what Bonnie needs, basically posts a 24-hour suicide watch on Forky and keeps pulling him back over to Bonnie, out of the trash.

The problem is, Woody isn't that excited about this. He is just doggedly resigned to it as his duty. He keeps rescuing Forky and getting no love in return; Buzz sort of tries to be supportive and offer to help, but nobody else seems to care about Bonnie and Forky, and Woody thinks this is his only way to be useful so he really doesn't want their help.

Which is stupid. Because if he were really committed to being selfless and loving Bonnie, he'd let everyone help. Because the point isn't "how will I feel if I fail to do this on my own? What's my purpose?" That's selfish. It's "you-focused." The point should be "How can we get this job done best for Bonnie?" with no consideration of "self." That would be selfless, which is the point of Toy Story movies.

Anyway. I'll speed up.

Basically by Act 2 Forky comes to understand (thanks to Woody) how great it is to be a toy. But no sooner does he want to go back to Bonnie (on the road trip) than Woody suddenly gets distracted. His whole life's mission of doing what's good for his kid is derailed because he finds Bo Peep again. Meanwhile, Forky is captured by a villainous antique doll with no voice box, who is fixated on being bought by a little girl and thinks that if she had Woody's voice box her dreams would come true.

Bo Peep has been living as a Lost Toy. Basically the movie sets this up as if Lost Toys take care of each other, patching up injuries and having fun together even when no kids are around: they're just doing the same sort of thing that the reformed toys at Sunnyside Daycare do. But in a playground/fairground setting.

Bo Peep doesn't want to be with one kid. She wants to keep doing this more selfish lifestyle, where she can be played with whenever she wants, help toys whenever she wants, and avoid the heartbreak of a kid abandoning her.

Understandable.

But thats the opposite of everything Woody's learned in the last three (and a half) movies. He could've made the decision Bo Peep is making at any point in Andy's childhood. But he's already learned that being there means Being There, regardless of what the kid can do for you.

I mean, I hate to point it out, because I know people will try to make it an allegory for "staying in an abusive situation," even though that's NOT what I'm saying, but seriously—think back to Sid's House in the very first movie. They don't lead all the broken toys to a life of freedom. They force Sid to be a better kid, but the broken toys stay there. Because they're Sid's Toys.

Contrast that with the "hardship" Bo Peep has been through...Bo Peep just...got pawned off. She didn't have body parts removed and sewn onto other toys. She didn't get strapped to a firework or melted down. But she's treated like this revolutionary, independent, strong-woman toy who's introducing this great concept of freedom to Woody.

That's all wrong for Woody. And for most of the movie, he resists it, so that's good.

But what it comes down to, at the end, is Woody deciding to choose what he wants over his ideals of selflessness and loyalty. He wants to stay with Bo Peep (because romance) and he wants to be needed. Lost Kids and Toys "need" him more than Bonnie.

To be fair, they try to build up to this in a way that makes sense for his character. They try really hard, they do. They show that Woody is still selfless when it comes to the happiness of kids and toys; he willingly gives up his voice box so that Forky can go back to Bonnie, and the doll villainess can have a shot at her dream. They show that he's ready to support that villainess and help her find a kid she could be true to even after the kid she wanted rejects her. They show that he really was going to leave Bo, even at the very end, even though he didn't want to—and it takes Buzz insisting that Bonnie will "be all right" without him for Woody to give it all up.

They do try.

But that's the thing. The only way they could set up Woody's decision to abandon his friends and his kid for life as a Lost Toy was by centering it around this idea of "where I'm needed."

But 1) "where I'm needed" is too self-focused for Woody, because of all the reasons in Toy Story 2 and 1, and 2) you can't have it both ways. You can't say Woody's all about "where he can be of service best" and all about "what he wants." Those two focuses contradict one another, in Woody's case.

That's what it boils down to. They took the characters that are literally made to say, "live your life for others, love regardless of whether or not you're loved back," and they try to say, "nooo, actually, that's toxic, you have to do what you want, what feels most fulfilling to you, self-care, etc." And they do their best to shoehorn Woody into that by saying "what he's most fulfilled by is being needed."

That's all wrong for Toy Story. Woody developed away from making all his decisions based on where he's "needed" in Toy Story 2. Woody expressed loyalty to both Andy and his friends perfectly in Toy Story 3 by putting himself in Bonnie's box and letting Andy decide, his owner decide, where he should be.

And then Toy Story 4 comes along and says, "No, Woody gets to decide, and he decides where he's needed, and he's fine with separating from not only his kid, but his friends."

This post is already too long but also, if you try to spin it so Woody's still in-character and selfless by helping Lost Toys find kids, it starts to make no sense. If the Lost Toy lifestyle is so great, because you can pick up playtime with kids and put it back down whenever you feel like it—and you should, because kids will always get older and throw you out—why should Woody ever help Lost Toys find a kid to go home with? Why wouldn't he say, like Bo, "hey that's nice but eventually they'll grow up, it's a dead-end, just stay out in this playground with us. That's what's best for you. Be a Lost Toy like us."

The only possible answer to that question, which IS supposedly Woody's fulfilling ending, is, "Because maybe some toys just 'want' to go home with one kid. And if they do, they should be allowed to do what they want. And Woody can help them, because helping them is what he wants."

Allll back to "what YOU want" which is the opposite of being a toy. Anyway. The horse is dead, I'll quit beating it.

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barenecessiteas · 3 months ago

Text

Random Sinclair Headcanons Because I Can't Get Them Out Of My Head

Oh snap I'm back again. I'm feeling relatively inspired so I figured I may as well give some more silly little headcanons. Today we'll be talking about everyone's favorite hardass - Bo Sinclair! Hope you guys like my dumb headcanons

Bo Sinclair

Bo is the older twin. Granted it's only by literal seconds because of how he and Vincent were conjoined, but if you wanna get technical he was first

Since his full name is Beauregard, his nickname should really be spelled "Beau". When he was a toddler and his parents were teaching the boys how to spell their own names, Bo adamantly refused to spell it as Beau and instead picked Bo. Baby Bo said it was because it made an O sound, so it should just be O. Trudy and Victor didn't really argue with that, figuring a two letter name was easier for a kid to remember anyway

The first time he was restrained in the high chair happened when the twins were about 2. Trudy and Victor had previously tried to handle his tantrums with time-outs, sending him to his room, but he kicked and punched and screamed back too much

That's when they got the "genius" idea of restraining him to his highchair. It started with just the straps, but he actually managed to start tearing them apart with how hard he pulled at them. That's when the duct tape came in

As we all know, children are VERY sensitive in this stage of their development when it comes to discipline. It can really set the tone for how they perceive their parents. Once his parents would start strapping him in, whatever he was upset or angry about completely went out the window - it was just straight up fear at that point

The amount of time he'd be left in the chair varied, but usually it could be anyways from 15 minutes to over an hour. The longest times were in the beginning when they first started doing this to him

When he finally "calmed down" enough that his parents deemed it okay to let him out of the chair, Trudy would tend to the wounds on his wrists. It may have been her twisted form of an apology, but what does that matter if they just kept doing it?

Once he was away from his parents, that's when he would break down and cry. Not normal crying you'd expect from a young child, though. He'd cry so hard he was almost completely silent since he couldn't really breathe in steadily, his mouth would be open almost like he was trying to scream but couldn't

Vincent always looked for him after every time he was restrained to the high chair. Being so young, he didn't really know what to say to comfort Bo, so he just sat there with him and hugged him tight for as long as he needed

These were the only times Bo gave in and let his emotions out in front of another person. He'd just feel so scared and defeated after being restrained that he didn't have the energy to fight back at that point

These were also the rare times he'd actually accept hugs from Vincent

I don't really have an idea on whether his outbursts were from brain damage from the surgery, something he was naturally neurodivergent with, or if he just kinda threw really harsh tantrums

BUT regardless of what caused it, his outbursts and chair "sessions" did become less and less frequent as he got older. Mostly it's because the only thing these moments taught him was that he couldn't trust his parents

To a child, it just seems like you get in trouble any time you express negative emotion. That's why he got so good at bottling everything up and not telling anyone what he really felt

He also did genuinely mellow out more as the years went on. He was a kid, of course he was still gonna have tantrums and outbursts, but the worst of those happened when he was really young

Trudy and Victor finally stopped restraining him down when Bo was about 10. This is the age he got REALLY good at just keeping everything inside and only letting it out if he absolutely knew he was alone

Since he did get better at regulating his emotions before they kinda exploded as he got older, his relationship with his parents got better as he got older. Still, it was damaged in ways that could never be repaired. He genuinely loves his parents, and they loved him (despite being so shitty), but he never trusted them

Bo had a habit throughout the years of picking and scratching at the wounds on his wrist, especially when he'd hide away crying afterwards. This just made the scarring more prominent

He does have pretty extensive scarring on the back of his head from the separation surgery, but it's all completely covered by his hair. It would really only be visible if he shaved his hair off

Okay now with all the horrifying stuff out of the way, we can move on to more light-hearted headcanons

Bo is genuinely charming by nature, and he can actually sincerely be very sweet. This was more so when he was a little kid, but it's still there. The sweetness just got buried under all the trauma, so it rarely comes out much ;-;

The charm however is almost always at 100. He learned fast as a kid that being charming or cute was really endearing to everyone else around him

Tons of women around Ambrose would tell Trudy that he was gonna be a heartbreaker once he was grown up. That's what started boosting his ego

Genuinely he's never been insecure about his appearance aside from the scars. He knows he's hot shit, he feels no reason to be insecure about it

Bo would actually always be perfectly still and cooperative whenever Trudy made a cast of his face to make masks for Vincent. When his mother told him they were doing something to make his brother feel better about himself, he immediately agreed to be on his best behavior

To this day he hasn't complained once when the casting is being done. Before and after it are fair game, though, and really it's just affectionate teasing at that point

Bo was one of those kids that was naturally good at sports. On the occasions his father would play baseball or basketball with the kids, he picked up on it fast and loved just being able to run around

Baseball was always his favorite. It was also the one he seemed to be best at

We can see in the movie that he has a scar along his jaw (I know this is just because Brian Van Holt has a scar there but still). He got it when he was around 12 and attempted to climb a tree

In all fairness the process of climbing up the tree was successful, it was just trying to climb down that didn't go so well lol. He lost his footing and got scraped pretty deep by a branch as he fell

It was just serious enough to need stitches, but he never really cared about it being there

He genuinely loves music. He knows how to play piano because both the twins learned as kids, and he picked up guitar as a teenager. Naturally he was just more musically inclined than Vincent

The piano in the House of Wax was specifically added for Bo. Trudy would take the boys with her when she'd add some new additions, so she got the idea to add the piano so he would have something to do while she worked. She actually really loved hearing him play, he was very good at it, and it helped her concentrate

Trudy loved music too, so that's kinda where he gets it from. He also feels that it helps him vent his frustrations when he listens to hard rock and metal

Trudy actually encouraged his talent, just not to the point she did with Vincent and his art

Bo also has genuine talent as a mechanic. He was one of those kids that loved taking things apart and putting them back together again. When he was able to start taking auto shop in school, he was thrilled

I'm sure many of us noticed, but Bo's ring originally belonged to Victor. On the rare occasions he would sit in his dad's lap as a kid, he would always play with the ring on his hand and told his dad he wanted one just like it when he was grown up

Victor gave it to him on his 18th birthday. It's one of his favorite memories he has regarding his father because he didn't think his dad actually remembered the stuff he said about the ring as a kid

He has a habit of playing with it and twisting it. Most of the time it's just from fidgeting and he doesn't realize he does it, but it's also a coping mechanism for him

As I said before, even though his relationship with his parents was complicated to say the least, he did love them. The ring reminds him of the happier moments he had with his dad growing up

I mentioned in Lester's post that Victor would take him and Lester hunting on occasion, and he would always get so excited for those weekends! He got real enjoyment out of it, and seeing his father be proud of his marksmanship was an added bonus

I don't know why but I think he's a violent sleeper. As in he moves around a lot throughout the night. He'll often wake up to find he's completely kicked the blanket and sheets off his bed

It doesn't happen every single night, but it's definitely rare that he sleeps relatively peacefully

These also happen because of his night terrors from PTSD, though he'd rather set himself on fire than admit that

Also he snores pretty loud, he definitely does. Sorry I don't make the rules I'm just delivering the message

As I'm sure we all know, he loves his brothers to death. They're the only two people in the world he trusts completely

Of course he still has trouble expressing that, and his love language is kinda being an asshole and teasing them both

I don't see Bo as abusive, personally. The only time we really see him lash out at Vincent is in the kitchen after he'd been shot twice with a crossbow. I think most of us would be in a bad mood if we had a piece of an arrow sticking out of our chest and our brother kept trying to yank it out

But even with all the teasing, he always follows up with some sort of apology when it goes too far or he ends up taking his frustrations out on them. Granted, it's rarely ever an actual "I'm sorry" but more of compliments and comfort like he did with Vincent after snapping at him

His brothers are just his soft spot, man 🥹

He doesn't kill every single person that comes into strolling by. He has a soft spot for kids so none of the boys ever hurt families, pregnant women, children, stuff like that. Once you're out of your teens it's fair game

Bo and Vincent also tried their best to keep the killings a secret from Lester, they didn't want to drag their baby brother into their mess

Needless to say they did not hide it well

After his parents passed and the town went dead from the mill shutting down, Bo legitimately saw his idea of killing people to use for wax statues as a way of honoring his mother's work

He knew he didn't have the same artistic inclination as Vincent did, so he saw providing real models to work on as helping Vincent with his art, and therefore helping fulfill his mother's dream of making a wax town

Bo wasn't using Vincent or lying to him as Carly thought. Or at the very least he wasn't doing it on purpose, because he just genuinely saw the things he did as a way of helping

His thought process is basically "Even if I help just a little bit, it still counts, and maybe if I do this I can finally make my mother proud of me"

Alright I think that's enough for today. A few of the more general headcanons are definitely ones I've seen floating around, but I wanted to elaborate on them a little more in how I imagined them. Hopefully I'll get to Vincent's headcanons soon. See you soon my lovelies 😘💕

#bo sinclair #house of wax bo sinclair #house of wax bo #house of wax 2005 #vincent Sinclair #house of wax vincent sinclair #house of wax vincent #lester sinclair #house of wax lester sinclair #house of wax lester #jonesy sinclair #house of wax jonesy

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doctorgerth · 2 years ago

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a/n: So when I tell you this piece went on a JOURNEY! I think I ended up with 3 different versions of this? I started 1…immediately didn’t like it and started 2, sat on it for dayssss, and then literally started all over with 3 (this version) last night? Hopefully it turned out okay agshdbd I had fun with it regardless!! Wanna see if Killer gets smooched? Read to find out!

pairing: Killer x GN!Reader

word count: 1.8k

candy heart prompt: Ur Cute - A moment alone

KILLER + UR CUTE

You were approaching upon the third week in a row that you’ve stayed and helped Killer clean up the mess hall after dinner. If he hadn’t known any better, he would have assumed you enjoyed spending time with him as much as he enjoyed having your company around.

Cleaning was a way to destress for the Massacre Soldier; a time when all was quiet as the rest of the crew went to bed with full bellies or to finish off their own various duties for the night. The only sounds were the waves against the boat and the gentle creaking of wood as he wiped the tables and mopped the floors. A moment of peace in an otherwise chaotic lifestyle.

When you had first offered to help Killer with cleaning up, he almost wanted to reject it simply out of habit. Clean up duty was and always has been Killer’s thing, completely voluntary. But when he realized this meant he’d get to have you all to himself for an hour or two, he quickly found himself agreeing to your assistance.

Now, as silly as it may sound, he couldn’t imagine tidying up the mess hall without you. Talking or not, Killer simply enjoyed having you around. Not once has he felt as if you were encroaching on his peace as he has on multiple occasions with his rowdy friends. Rather, you were a part of it; you were equivalent to peace as you had a miraculous way of making him feel relaxed whenever you were around.

He joined you at the sink, grabbing a spare rag to dry off the dishes you had washed and discarding them in their various places. He couldn’t deny that there was something incredibly domestic about the whole scenario, nor the way it made his heart drum loudly in his chest when you smiled at him sweetly as you two helped one another. Did you feel it too?

When you turned off the sink and dried your hands, a low rumbling sound emitted from your stomach, making you cough awkwardly.

“Are you hungry?” he asked simply. The instinct to feed you kicked in, full force, “Want me to whip something up for you?”

“No, we just worked so hard to clean. I’d hate to mess that up.” Dinner was a few hours ago, but clearly your body was craving a late night snack. You blamed it on the loss of energy from cleaning, and that Killer’s cooking was too tasty for his own good.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, “Well, how about for the both of us then?”

You raised a brow at him, “You didn’t eat again, huh?”

He shook his head. He had a bad habit of not eating until after everyone else. It took a moment for his body to cool down and prepare for food after working so hard in the kitchen. He adored that you knew that about him, though you often scolded him for it. Even still, you cared for him, and that was enough.

“You sure you don’t mind?” you asked.

“Wouldn’t offer it if I did.”

You had a way of knowing when Killer smiled behind the mask. There was always a distinct upwards tug at his neck, just under the bottom line of his mask, when doing so. Your heart fluttered in your chest when you noticed that signature pull, imagining a handsome smirk on those purple lips of his.

Killer knew by now. He had to. Everyone else quickly picked up on and teased you endlessly about your little crush on the Massacre Soldier and how often you were helping him clean alone, just the two of you. Was he aware and just taking pity on you? He’s always been friendly with you, which certainly didn’t help in staving off your infatuation, but he hadn’t done anything to show he was interested. Not that you could tell, anyway. You were probably just another crewmate to him, and you’d have to come to terms with that.

You helped Killer rummage through the pantry and fridge to retrieve spaghetti pasta, oil, garlic, parmesan, parsley, and pepper, knowing pasta would be his meal of choice. His favorite recipe was easy to whip up, but you always liked to ask, “Can you show me how to make it again?” just because you adored his patience and how happy he was to teach you. You wanted to show that you were interested in his hobbies and habits. To subtly reveal that you were interested in him.

You listened intently as he explained the directions to you for the seventh time now and by this point, you knew the recipe like the back of your hand. How would he feel if you were to try to cook it for him some day? The thought of cooking for him made you giddier than you’d like to admit.

When the pasta was ready, he grabbed a single plate, a sly excuse in order to avoid dirtying up another dish, and two forks. He scooped it on the plate for the two of you to share and you didn’t waste any time in digging in — Killer’s pasta was always to die for. You hummed appreciatively when the flavors hit your tongue and he grinned once more, unable to handle how cute you were.

Soft conversations were exchanged as you shared the plate. After some time, fullness was beginning to settle comfortably in your bellies, but when you looked down, a single spaghetti strand remained on the plate. He caught you eyeballing it.

“You can have the last bite. I don’t mind,” he offered.

You shook your head, “No, you should have it. Last bite should always be for the chef.”

“But you’re my sous chef?” That thought hadn’t meant to convert to words passing through his lips, but he was glad they did as your flustered reaction was a sight to behold. He rather enjoyed making you stammer and flush as you did him so often.

“Well, how about we share it then?”

And there he stood, stammering and flushed, “Are you sure?”

What was so embarrassing about cutting a strand of pasta in half to share? You nodded, and as you were about to reach towards the plate with your fork, Killer took the strand between the tines of his own fork, and brought the pasta to his mask. You were about to tease him for stealing the last bite, until you noticed he only took a little bit of it into his mask, leaving the rest to dangle from the hole closest to his mouth.

Oh.

You were entirely embarrassed now, skin undoubtedly hot to the touch. It was normal for crewmates to share spaghetti like this, right? With a shaky fork, you gathered the other end of the spaghetti and brought it to your lips, leaning in closer so as to not break the noodle. Neither of you moved for some time as you stood inches from one another, connected by a single strand of spaghetti.

You felt a small tug as he audibly slurped the noodle, shortening the pasta as well as the distance between the two of you. You followed suit with nervousness, feeling on the verge of combustion now that you could feel the heat radiating off him and caressing your already burning skin. His close proximity was making you lightheaded. He slurped again, and suddenly, your nose was brushing against the cool plastic of his mask. It was hardly enough to cool you down.

The final slurp would be the last bite, the last pull towards one another, and Killer waited patiently, begging for you to take the chance. He was sure his heart was going to beat right out of his chest, wondering if maybe this was a mistake, if maybe you were uncomfortable, until you closed your eyes and took the rest of the noodle into your mouth, planting a kiss so quick against his mask it nearly gave him whiplash. For that brief second, he could feel the heat of your lips through the mask hole and though it was more than he could’ve ever dreamed, he selfishly wanted more.

“I’m sorry, maybe I…” you quickly backed away into an apology, wiping at the oil that stained the corner of your lips. The click of his mask caught you by surprise, cutting your sentence short as his mask hit the floor and his blue eyes stared into yours. You’d seen Killer without his mask multiple times now, each time more stunned by his attractiveness, but never had his blue eyes stared at you so intensely. It made your heart beat uncontrollably; a deafening thrumming in your ears. On a ship full of hundreds of crewmates, sailing across an ocean full of thousands of ships, in a world full of millions of people, in this kitchen, it felt like it was just the two of you.

His hands reached up to caress your face, and you were too captivated to even blink, not wanting this moment to end any time soon. Or ever.

“Can I have another?” he whispered breathlessly.

The nod you gave was a little more eager than intended, but you’d wanted to kiss those lips of his for so long now, even if this were all just another dream, nothing could stop you from saying yes, yes, yes.

His lips were on yours instantaneously. As long as you had waited for this, he was sure his wait was ten times longer, ten times more agonizing, but now he had you and it would be damn near impossible for anything to take you away from him. Not if he had anything to say about it. You felt safe pushed up against him, held firmly by his hands now gripping at your waist as he pulled you into him, desperate to be even closer. You felt elated beyond comprehension to have his warmth fully wrapped around you. His lips felt like heaven moving against yours, kissing you with slow precision, tasting you with intent, staining your lips the same shade of purple that adorned his lips. You’d wear the color with pride.

“It’s about damn time,” a bellowing voice echoed through the mess hall, pulling you two apart for a brief moment. Kid leaned against the doorway with a shit-eating grin, “Placed a lot of money on you two. Thanks for securing my win.” He closed the door as quickly as he’d opened it.

Killer shook his head with a groan and rested his forehead against yours, “Dumbass.”

You laughed, “Guess everybody’s been waiting on this, huh?”

He pecked your lips, convinced he was addicted to them by now. He was far from done with kissing you yet, “Not nearly as long as me.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you waiting,” you smiled against his lips, melting into him as he closed the distance between you two and deepened the kiss once more.

The two of you would become a little less productive at cleaning up the mess hall together now that kissing was on the table.

a/n: Our first "loser"!! 🫣 At least Killer leaves the event with a full heart knowing he got a smooch (or two, or three, or...). We won't see him in Round Two unfortunately, but we'll definitely see him again someday! Thanks for reading. 💕

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shiroisotto64 · 1 year ago

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Carmine Headcanons

Benjamin

He’s always been described as green. Aka he follows the rules..mostly. Everyone has their moments am I right? Ben is respectful towards everyone and has a very eager air about him.

You wanna teach him neat military trick? He’s in. This leads to Ben and Baird spending a lot of time together. Imagine how much fun they’d have setting shit on fire? Exactly. And Baird finally has someone who actually tries to listen/understand his science talk.

He’d been real fun to be around. If your friends or together? He’s down to do things you like. Even if he hadn’t found it all to interesting before hand he’ll at least try to get into it for you. You like collecting antiques? He’ll save up to get you something whenever he can.

Gets real giddy when genuinely complimented. You noticed his tracking is getting better and say something about it? He’s touched! You think he’s getting real good at unjamming his lancer? Why thank you! He’s eats it all up and uses it as fuel to keep going.

With a s/o

Very respectful of boundaries. He won’t do anything without your explicit consent before hand. Including hand holding. He gets real shy when it comes to affection. He doesn’t mind it…but growing up with locust running around to kill you doesn’t leave a lot of time to get used to touch.

Ben would be super excited to genuinely spend time with you as well. Wanna walk around the yard? Sure, let’s go. Wanna eat lunch together? He’s damn there skipping to the hall. It’s so cute but the others definitely tease him for this. Marcus is just shaking his head in the corner but look closer he’s almost smiling!

Anthony

He needs to be put on a leash. He’s such a nerd. He’ll rant for hours about all the cool shit Marcus has done if anyone would let him. It’s funny how much he knows really.

Eager to train and get on the field. You can find him in the gym or shooting range. He likes the rush 1 and 2 he wants to stay sharp and be useful when called out. Rambles on the coms to. Marcus is normally the one to scold him to “shut the hell up!”

I feel like for some reason…he’d know a LOT of gossip around base..idk I can just feel it. Before you even tell him he already knows how the mission went. Luckily he’s open to talk about his missions too especially if he did something cool!

With a s/o

Likes no LOVES to show off. But he loses his cocky attitude when his gun fucks around and jams and oops he dropped it….ANYWAYS everyone has their days.

But lord help you cause it has to be nerve wracking being with him, he’s so eager and reckless at that. At least Ben follows orders Anthony just kinda forgets or gets wrapped up in the moment. He means no harm but still.

Clayton

He’s quieter than his brothers. Clayton just kinda chills there till he feels he needs to say anything. He’s more introverted prefers to keep to himself. He does have a sense of humor though. Albeit it’s a bit dry it’s there.

Clay cared a lot about his family especially his brothers. His affection is generally more quiet and shown through actions. A pat on the back here and a good job there. That’s his style even after the war he’s still kinda stiff.

He likes keeping his weapons in top shape. He’s found cleaning his guns and tags around the end of the week or right after a messy mission.

He’s not really picky about food or anything none of them are but I bet Clayton is the heaviest eater out of the carmines. Make him a hearty bowl and he’ll eat every last drop!

With a s/o

Wanna know if he likes you? Easy ask that man for a piece of his bacon. Regardless if he fussed about it or not if you get the piece at all you’re good.

If you’re the touchy type he’ll try to accommodate you. Like I said it’s not like they don’t like touch they just aren’t used to it.

He’s the touchiest when he’s tired. All of a sudden you’re being dragged to bed to cuddle. He’s a real heavy sleeper to! So good luck. Those big strong arms mean business once he’s got you there’s not escape.

@pink-apollo mentioned something about Clayton and dogs and I agree. I could totally see him with at least one large guard dog. But what’s better? A big dog and small puppy. LMFAO imagine the grub killer sprawled out on the couch with a yorkie or something. Adorable.

He’s not the jealous type but he is protective. Anyone giving you a hard time he’ll get it through their skulls don’t worry.

He does need a quiet moment to himself though, so if your the real clingy type he’ll get agitated if your constantly trying to hang off him, however he won’t yell he’ll just remove himself for you until he’s ready to be touched again.

#clayton carmine x reader #benjamin carmine #anthony Carmine #Clayton Carmine #gears of war #gears of war Imagine #gears x reader #gow3

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captain-mj · 2 years ago

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Hey u got anything for backrooms and the bois?

pls and thank you

So I cannot find any proof of this but I swear there used to be a way of getting into the backrooms where basically if you're very depressed/dissociative you can walk directly into it without the no clipping, but I cannot find it. Regardless, that's used here.

By the way, from Soap's pov. If I make a pt 2, it’ll be from Ghost’s

~~~~

Soap was with the 141 and Los Vaqueros the day it happened. He watched Ghost look through the room they were in quietly. Everyone was there. Everyone was watching.

That's what he thought of every day since it happened. Everyone was watching. He wasn't crazy.

Ghost had stepped away, still in sight. Price gave them instructions. Ghost went ahead. He turned around a corner.

Everyone saw him go around that corner. Soap was two steps behind. Ghost went out of sight. Soap should've seen him on the second step.

He was gone. The hallway was completely straight after that corner. Yellow walls with harsh yellow lights. No windows. No doors. Nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing.

Soap remembered staring at it before screaming Ghost's name. Suddenly, he didn't really care if they were overheard. Everyone had freaked out when they heard him. Were even more freaked out when they saw why.

Six hours.

Six hours he searched that entire building. The hallway led to a room and it looped around, the entire building shaped a bit like an O. A giant fucking circle that he could walk until his feet bled and it still wouldn't lead him to Ghost again.

It replayed in his head. The brief second before Ghost turned away. He had looked at Johnny. Something had been bothering him that day, but Soap had decided to wait until they were home at base to ask. Maybe Ghost would've stayed closer to him or Price. They would've seen something.

He really wished he had asked. Had told Ghost to wait up. Ghost got annoyed when he did that, but he'd still be there. Still be...

Instead of wherever he was.

It didn't make sense.

After the third hour, Price had given them permission to start ripping up floorboards and bash in the walls. The building was going to abandoned anyway.

Fucking nothing.

No secret rooms.

No secret passages.

Ghost was good. But even he couldn't just vanish. He couldn't have moved fast enough.

Price had started calling for him. He clicked on his radio and kept calling. Feedback was all he got for the efforts.

Soap was seconds away from falling apart every step of the way. The wrong push and he thinks he'd start screaming again.

They searched the surrounding area, but that was even more pointless. Soap knew something... wrong had happened. Something unnatural. But he had no way to explain it.

Price made phone calls while Gaz torched the building. That wasn't protocol. Maybe Captain hoped Ghost would come out with some explanation.

Soap hadn't slept much.

If Ghost had died, he accepted it would hurt. Hurt like fucking hell. Crush him to dust.

Somehow, this was worse. The not knowing.

Where the fuck could Ghost be?

It had been two weeks since that incident. They had been put on leave for a while. Price was worried about everyone. Reasonably so.

Alejandro had been oddly quiet about the whole thing. According to Rodolfo, he had been in contact with some officials he knew, but he didn't tell Rudy. Rodolfo admitted to Soap he didn't feel as hurt as he probably should. He told Soap he knew there was something else here. Something else to this disappearance that made him unsettled.

Soap wondered if he was having nightmares too.

Had to 've he supposed. Soap didn't sleep enough for him.

Ghost's room had been cleaned out after 3 days of being MIA. Just 3. Like the man didn't fucking matter.

Soap had grabbed his knives and one of his masks. Kept one of the former under his pillow and the latter always nearby.

It didn't smell like Ghost anymore.

Gaz slept on his floor some nights. He appreciated it until Gaz admitted he was worried by being alone, he'd disappear too. Or that Soap would. Soap laid on the floor with him that night.

Maybe it was stupid. To be so worked up about this. But even Price had been effected. Soap noticed him no longer working in his office. Always out in common rooms where someone could see him.

Soap sighed and closed his eyes to try sleeping.

Click.

His eyes flew back open. "Gaz?"

"You heard it too?"

Soap sat up slowly, looking at his radio. He left it on their channel. Didn't make sense to anymore honestly.

"Think its picking something up? Feedback or some radio station?" Gaz sat up, staring at it.

"Is there anyone there?" Ghost sounded... tired. So very, very tired. But there.

Soap took a deep breath and reached over, pressing the button. "Simon?"

"Johnny? Where am I?"

#Johnny Soap Mactavish #Simon Ghost Riley #Soap Cod #Ghost COD #Soapghost #Ghostsoap #Soap x Ghost #Ghost x Soap #Macriley #Call of Duty #Call Of Duty Modern Warfare 2 #Gary Roach Sanderson #Alejandro Vargas #Rodolfo Parra #Valeria Garza #Cod #Call of Duty Modern Warfare #Captain John Price #John Price

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bigsoftmarshmallow · 2 months ago

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Hi, I hope this will bring the wholesome!

Holy cow!! This game! I can't! ❤️ Little Romi just gave Zel a four-leaf clover! She said that “Did you know you’ll be happy forever & ever if you've got one of these clovers?” She then went on to say that she gave one to her papa & that he was SOOO happy, then gave one to Zel, telling her that she should give one to her papa too! … I gotta say, they did a great job of writing these kids in this game.

So, I'd love to see the Dorfs receiving such a clover from their daughter. Perhaps they’re confused initially, but accept all-the-same, earning him a bright, sunny smile & an “Nï'āmàl'so, Vōda!” (Meaning, “I love you, dad!” But in a slang way. So, it's more like, “love ya, dad!” Āmàl being the platonic or familial use of love.) Before scampering off saying that, she was going to go help Vàma with dinner. Anyway, I imagine the DorfMisers just smiling, looking at the silly little good luck charm… He contemplates tossing it or something of the like.

What do each one decide to do?

Regardless, I imagine that they go about their day until they catch the word “clover,” only half-listening, until he hears a child all pouty over having not been able to find a Happy Clover. The other children ask why she wanted that, who responds that four-leaf clovers are always lucky, but the Picori Festival had just ended a week ago, so all four-leaf clovers still in the ground become Happy Clovers which are extra extra lucky because the Picori always leave extra treats & trinkets during the festival. Reminding them how in class, the teacher said that if you have one then you’ll be happy forever & ever! (Said elderly lady was also his daughter's teacher, so it was almost guaranteed that she'd heard the same tale herself.) “And it’s the last day until the full moon, when the extra luck will disappear for 100 whole years!!” *note that the child was whining* She then complained about how “It’s almost sundown & the princess stole the last one right from under my nose & those are the luckiest!! She could've gotten another one before, cause she’s really good at finding treasure, so she must’ve waited till the last hour to get the best one!!! Selfish!!!” Keep in mind, it was really just little kid talk, no hatred, just annoyance. Nothing a bit of roughhousing won’t resolve.

In other words, rather than keep such a supposedly fae-blessed eternal happiness bestowing treasure for herself (which, is super huge for kids, remember that), the DorfMisers’ darling Vàlàti (princess) had decided to give it to him instead.

How do they react?

If he tossed the clover, does he go searching for it? If so, how does he feel when he does find it again?

Or if he didn't toss it, is he overcome with relief for his forbearance. (Which, in.the cases of Demise, is likely very rare.)

Regardless of which, what does he do & say next time he sees her standing on a stool as she helps her mother knead buns on her tippy toes with a flour smudged màgdàsha (a type of cooking apron made from linen)? Thoughts, feelings, & what do they do afterwards? Do they watch for a bit? Listen to his wife & daughter chat for a moment? Enjoy a moment of peace & contentment & family & just… love. Perhaps that desire for power & conquest is still there, but maybe for now, with these people… maybe he had all he needed for just a moment…

What then? Which of the Dorfs react by saying the classic, “How are my 2 favorite vaien?” (I highly doubt Demise, but I can absolutely see Hedony doing so.)

I'd love a cute little scene where they interact.

Regardless, when Nemma notices the little clover, she comments, “My! That's quite the fortunate find! I could seal that in resine so it won't wilt, if you'd like?”

Response please?

And, if he asks his vehvï why she didn’t keep such a “powerful” treasure for herself. (I imagine him saying the word with a bit of humor. Maybe some fondness.) After all, many would give anything for never-ending happiness. How does he react to her saying, “I’m always happy, but I see how you look sometimes. And I know that being happy doesn’t come as easy for everyone. So, I wanted you to have it, so we can see you smile more. Kaachan likes your smile & so do I! I know your job's important to you, but taking breaks to be happy is important, too!”

Also, the expression on Nemma’s face is like: 🥹, hand pressed to her lips like this: 🤭 with a tiny, tight little smile of, “Oh my goodness, my heart. It is breaking from the wholesome.”

But, how do the DorfMisers react? Like, just to the realization that his baby wants wishes eternal happiness for him? Thoughts & feelings? How does he respond?

Anyway, thank you! And I'm glad you're sib’s back at home.

I loved that quest. Its so cute. The King of Hyrule in this game was such a 10/10 dad. I loved the father/daughter dynamics between him and Zelda. <3

************************************************************************

What an absolutely heartwarming and rich scene you've crafted! Here’s how I imagine each of the Ganondorfs and Demise might react to Vàlàti’s innocent and deeply thoughtful gift.

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf

At first, he may be taken aback, almost amused by the clover's "power" as his daughter eagerly hands it to him. He's not prone to sentimentality, so he doesn't give much thought to it until he hears the children’s conversation about the clover’s supposed power to bring eternal happiness. Suddenly, it dawns on him just how meaningful her gesture was, choosing to bestow him with what she saw as boundless happiness. This thought lingers with him as he goes to find her, watching her help her mother in the kitchen. In a rare moment of softness, he places the clover in his pocket, letting himself feel her love and seeing both his daughter and wife as pillars in his life he wouldn’t trade for anything. He might smile and ask, “How are my two favorite vaien?”

Twilight Princess Ganondorf

Twilight Princess Ganondorf would likely scoff lightly at the idea of a “happy clover” at first, not thinking twice as he sets it down somewhere unceremonious. Yet the overheard conversation about the clover’s rarity makes him reconsider, compelling him to find it again, a shadow of doubt flitting across his mind that it might actually carry some significance. When he sees Vàlàti with her mother, covered in flour and happily chatting, he’d feel a tug of something tender and unfamiliar. He might even join in, maybe calling them his “vaien,” although with that characteristic serious tone he never quite shakes. Yet as he leaves, the clover’s weight in his pocket feels like a reminder of the simple happiness he often overlooks.

Wind Waker Ganondorf

Wind Waker Ganondorf, with his connection to the sea and the endless search for something beyond power, would feel an immediate, instinctive warmth when Vàlàti gives him the clover. He listens carefully to the children’s chatter, quietly intrigued, and feels an ache when he realizes she gave up such a valuable treasure for him. As he watches her, his heart fills with pride, especially when he considers her purity and resilience in wanting to share joy with him. He’s likely to watch Nemma and Vàlàti in that contented silence, whispering a soft, “My girls,” before deciding he’ll keep that clover with him, a little beacon of happiness in his journey.

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf is initially skeptical of the clover’s “eternal happiness,” dismissing it with a smirk. But after hearing the children’s belief in the clover’s power, he finds himself curiously examining it more closely, his respect for his daughter’s thoughtfulness growing. Watching her help Nemma in the kitchen, he’d feel an unexpected warmth and protective pride, reflecting on her selflessness. He’d keep the clover, reminding himself that her happiness is now woven into his life as much as his ambitions. He might approach them, standing beside Nemma, and murmur, “My two favorite vaien are getting along well, I see,” with a rare softness in his voice.

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf would initially seem indifferent to the clover, but overhearing the children would leave him thoughtful, the meaning behind his daughter’s gesture settling deeply. He finds himself seeking Vàlàti out, finding her with Nemma in the kitchen. For a moment, he simply watches the pair, feeling an unfamiliar ache at how she wants him to be happy. He might kneel beside her, tucking the clover into a pouch close to his heart. “Thank you, vàlàti,” he’d murmur, his usual commanding tone softened. Her gift makes him realize he might truly desire more for them than he’d once imagined.

Demise

Demise would likely regard the clover as insignificant at first, setting it aside without a second thought. However, hearing the children's talk would jolt something in him—a glimmer of curiosity. The thought of happiness wasn’t something he ever sought, but the fact that she wanted it for him would leave him unexpectedly stirred. He wouldn’t outwardly show much, perhaps, but when he sees her helping Nemma in the kitchen, he watches a while longer than usual, feeling a new, unfamiliar sense of peace. He might finally grumble, “My two favorite vaien,” more for their sakes than his own, the clover tucked into his gauntlet almost without thinking.

If Nemma offers to preserve the clover, most of the Ganondorfs would be moved, likely nodding with a subtle, “Thank you.” After Vàlàti’s explanation, they might feel a pang of tenderness, the realization that their little girl had thought so deeply and selflessly. And if they ask her why she gave it to them, her simple yet profound response would bring an unexpected sense of humility and gratitude.

Demise, meanwhile, would be especially struck by her words about happiness not coming as easily to him. He’d turn her words over in his mind as though unlocking a mystery, perhaps vowing to keep the clover for reasons he can’t yet name, his normally unyielding resolve softened just slightly by his daughter’s gesture.

#mallowresponse #legend of zelda #ganondorf #ganon #demise #tears of the kingdom #wind waker #ocarina of time #twilight princess #hyrule warriors #skyward sword #ai use #use of chatgpt

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beastofburdenxo · 1 year ago

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Raising Catherine Chapter 2

Catherine is 16 now and wants to date. Tommy is not having it.

No smut, Language, violence, mention of sexual assault. 1.8k words

Catherine had a boy at school interested in her. He was a little older and was considered popular, so she was beyond excited. He wanted to take her out one Friday night, and being the good girl she is, decided that she should run it by Tommy first. He's not her dad, not really, and she’s almost grown so she shouldn’t have to. But she thought it was the right thing to do. After school, she goes to his study, where he pretty much lives. “Hello, Cathy dear, how was your day?” Tommy asks, already knowing about the said boy. Nothing gets passed Tommy Shelby. “It was alright. Can I ask you something?” Tommy puts his paperwork down, knowing where this is headed, “Sure love, what is it?” He didn’t want to break her little heart, but she wasn’t dating, not over his dead body. “Umm, so there’s this guy at school, and he wants to-” He wouldn’t let her finish her sentence, “No way, Cathy. I’m sorry, but you're not ready to date yet. Especially not that one.” adding to her incredulous look, “Yes, I already know about him.”

“Of course, you do.” she mumbles. “Once again sweetheart, I know his family and it’s best you stay away. I’m sorry, love.” Catherine gets angry at this. “I’m 16 now, Tommy, not some silly child. You aren’t even my father!” Hearing that he isn’t her father sends him into a rage, “I may not be your father, but I love you like one!” He bellows, “I promised your father on his deathbed that I would take care of you, and that’s what I’m doing here! Believe it or not he would agree with me! The answer is no, and that’s final dammit!” Tommy has never so much as raised his voice at her before, much less cursed at her, and this causes tears to well up in her eyes. “Have it your way, I'll be alone with you forever! No one will have me!” Catherine runs to her room to sob into her pillow, face red and defeated. Tommy puts his head in his hands. “Maybe I shouldn’t have yelled at her, she didn’t deserve that. She didn’t have to ask me really. She's right, I'm not her dad.” he sighs, and pours a drink, “But going with him is a bad idea. She just doesn’t know it yet. I'm doing the right thing here. Yes, I am. She'll be fine.”

Catherine is fuming. She will not allow Tommy to control her life any longer. The next day she tells her suitor to meet her in town after dark. She will have her date, regardless of if Tommy likes it or not. The school day drags by, and she tries her best to avoid Tommy at all costs when she gets home. Normally, she stops by and says hello, but not today. “Oh, she’s still angry,” Tommy thinks to himself at Catherine’s snub, “She won’t even speak to me. I hate this teenage phase. We never got into it when she was just a child.” Sighing, he decides to give her some space, and try to make peace later that night at dinner. Catherine is cold even at dinner, delighted in the plan she has for later tonight. Refusing to speak to Tommy just to rub salt in the wound. Night falls, and she gets ready to make her escape. Nervous at disobeying Tommy, but excited that the same time, she climbs out of the window. Tommy is pacing in his bedroom, upset at how things are going with Catherine. He didn’t want it to go this far and went to her room to try and pass the olive branch and call a cease fire. He entered after no answer to find her room empty. He looked everywhere in the house for her, nothing. Knowing what she did causes his anger to flare up all over again. She went anyways.

Several hours later, Tommy is waiting for her return in the living room. Fuming is an understatement. Catherine drags herself through the front door, not bothering with the window. She is holding her arm, shaking, her face tearstained. Tommy marches to the door, ready to give her an earful. “HOW DARE YOU-” he starts, until he sees Catherine fall to her knees with a pitiful sob. “Something is very wrong.” he thinks to himself, “Oh god, something bad happened.” He dashes to her aide as she curls into a ball on the floor. “Cathy, love, what’s wrong? What happened?” He gently reaches out his hand to touch her, and she almost jumps out of her skin. “Hey, hey now, it’s me love. It’s Tommy. Tommy’s here love, what happened to you?” He picks her off the floor and carries her to the couch. “Talk to me Cathy. I know you snuck out, but that can wait. Sweetheart, look at me.” Catherine looks up at him with pure fear in her normally sweet eyes. “T.T.T.Tommy I'm sorry,” she stuttered, “You were right Tommy I’m sorry.” Tommy strokes her hair to calm her, “Sweetheart, what happened?” he asks, pulling her to his chest, “Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?”

Catherine pulls up her sleeve to show the already forming bruise there in the form of a handprint. “Things were going okay until. Until. Until” She couldn’t finish her sentence through the sobs. “Until what, Love?” he gently prodded. “It’s okay, you can tell me.” Tommy wipes her face, waiting till she’s ready to continue. “He wanted to have sex, and I said no,” Catherine cries, “H-H-He got mad and tried to put his hand up my dress!” Tommy held her tight, fuming for another reason now. He holds her face in his hands, trying to steady his nerves. “H-H-He grabbed my arm really hard when I tried to get away, pulling me to him. I was so scared; I kicked him and ran Tommy! I just ran!” Tommy rocked her back and forth while she wailed. “I’m so proud of you, love. You did so good. My little girl, always my little girl.” Catching her breath she asked, “You’re not mad at me? I disobeyed you.” Tommy kissed her forehead. “I’m not happy you snuck out, but I'm even more furious about you getting attacked. You certainly didn’t deserve that. You have nothing to be sorry for, love. I’m not mad at you, I'm mad at him. He will be taken care of, I promise. I love you so much Cathy sweetheart.”

He holds her in his arms as he takes her to the bathroom to get cleaned up. After her bath, all warm and dry, he brushes her hair. “Just like old times, eh? I remember doing this all the time almost like a ritual. You had to teach me how to do your hair, I had no idea.” he chuckles at the memory. “My sweet Cathy, still my sweet Cathy.” This makes her cry all over again, “Am I still sweet Tommy? What if he tells everyone that I did do it? What if-What if-” Tommy cuts her off as he bends down to look her in the eye. “You will always be sweet to me, love. You did nothing wrong. He betrayed your trust, and he will pay for that. I’ll get him before he can spread anything, and that is a promise to you.” Tommy allows her to sleep with him just like old times, wanting her to be close and safe. Cursing that bastard and his family for what he did to his baby girl.

The next morning, Tommy sends Catherine off with Polly to go shopping. Handing Polly a stack of cash after telling her what happened. “Whatever she wants, whatever makes her happy. Take her mind off things for a bit.” Polly’s eyes fill with tears, “You take care of this now, Tommy, or I will.” Tommy just solemnly nods, “It’s why I'm sending her with you. He will be brought here and handled. Arthur and John are getting him as we speak.” After the two girls leave for their day trip, a car pulls up the driveway. “I’ve got a piece of shit for a Tommy Shelby.” John says, hanging out the window. “Take him to the backyard, I’ll be there shortly.” Arthur pulls the guy out of the car, “Accidently” throwing him to the ground. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I hurt you? That’s nothing compared to what Tommy will do. We’ll see if you make it out of here alive.” John then kicks him for good measure before dragging him to the backyard. “You should know better than to fuck with the Shelby’s. Cathy is one of our own blood or not, and you will not get away with touching her!”

They make it to the backyard, Tommy is waiting, gun in hand. John puts him in front of Tommy, all beaten and bruised from their fun with him, kicking him behind the knees making him kneel. “So, you are the bastard that hurt my little girl, eh?” Tommy asks, looking down at him. Eyes electric with fury. “Thinking I wouldn’t find out, eh? I fucking know everything, I'm always two steps ahead. Couldn’t just go to a whore like any other guy, no, you wanted my Cathy, eh?” Tommy spits in his face, “Like she would have you! No respectable woman would! You fucked with the wrong one today, didn’t you? Now normally, I would watch you get cut like a hog and bleed out, but that is for business, this here is personal.” Tommy cocks his gun and points it at the man’s head, “An animal like you doesn’t deserve to live. If it wasn’t my Cathy, it would be some other poor girl and I can’t live with that. I'm doing this town a fucking service, taking the trash out.” Tommy stands there, listening to him plead for his life, “I’ve done a lot of things,” Tommy shouts over the crying, “But I have never tried to force a woman, and after today you won’t either.”

Two gun shots ring out, one going to the man’s balls, the other his head. In that order. Silence takes over the wailing, as Tommy puts his gun away. “Bury him, burn him, chop him up, I don’t give a fuck,” Tommy tells his brothers, “Just get the piece of shit out of my yard, his name is not to be mentioned again. It's done.” Both Arthur and John nod, taking the body to who knows where. Now, when Tommy promised himself that he would keep her from hurting again, he meant it. The town would know he meant it. He would kill again if he had to. For her. Catherine is to be kept safe. His Catherine. By order of the Peaky Blinders.

#tommy shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #cillian murphy

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historia-vitae-magistras · 2 years ago

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Part Two: Space

Part One: Here. Part Two: You are Here. Part Three: Here.

Author's note: Inspired by the 1950s short story "The Man Who Came Early" by Poul Anderson. This is as close to sci-fi as I've ever written and therefore not accurate to the ISS or other actual science because its time travel. Warnings for panic and some goreless action.

International Space Station 400 km above the surface of the Earth. 21st Century

“Careful up there, Jones.” The navigation officer’s voice echoed through the intercom, making Alfred look up, a domed helmet in his hand. He grinned.

“Don’t you worry yourself, darling,” He replied. “I’ve sat on some bison bigger than that panel.”

He could practically hear her eye roll. “Stay in communication and don’t pull another stunt like that backflip.”

“Aww, c’mon. Kids on the live stream went wild for it.”

“Try me, Jones. There won’t be a presidential order on earth that’ll get you back up here again.”

“Laaaaaame.”

The ISS floated serenely 400 kilometres above the earth. Alfred sailed from the equipment locker, pushing off until he reached the airlock. An old hand at this, it was almost as intuitive as horseback riding was when he was younger, but his heart sped up anyway. He clamped his helmet down and checked the comms.

“Eagle Scream, back to baseboys, over. Confirm baseboys.”

He could practically hear an eye roll from the command module. “Eagles don’t even scream. They get that sound from a hawk.”

“That should be a state secret.” Alfred grumbled. There was a whoosh as the airlock was sealed at the inner end. He opened the outer hatch, giving it one final pat for good luck. Hitching his tether, he grabbed the metal rails and took a moment. He never got sick of this part, the void of nothingness with the sheer expanse of the universe before him. The sun was at 40 degrees; the planet was just behind him.

Tossing a look over his shoulder, he could see the little green sweep of Nantucket at the edge of a grey nor’easter. He released one hand to get a better look. He was a handsome bugger from this angle, almost a thousand miles above the earth. He couldn’t quite reach his ass in the suit, but California looked good regardless. When he was done being vain, reverence swept him through the weightless silence. He leaned his helmeted head against his shoulder, watching his pale blue dot. He smiled: home sweet home.

“Move your ass, Jones.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He snapped out of his reverie, grinning in the helmet. After releasing the rails, he sailed gracefully up and behind until the Canadarm appeared. She was preloaded. All he had to do was line it up, fix some wiring and screw it in, and they were golden.

“Jones to command. Jones to command. Come in command. Need you to swing’er over nice and easy.”

The bright white arm twitched on its crane-like elbow joint, and its flexing attachment worked as steel fingers clamped on the panels and kept them in place as Alfred fastened them. It had better joints than Matt, only whirring softly instead of popping and creaking like organic bubble wrap. Alfred positioned himself near the panel that needed replacing, flexing his hands and cracking his knuckles before pulling out his wrench. The arm reached out, perhaps a bit too fast.

“Whoa, easy on the gears! My brother will shit bricks if we fuck up his baby.”

“Sorry.”

Alfred replaced the panels for an hour. The steady guidance of the Canadarm provided the stability he needed to make damn sure the solar panel was securely in place. He stopped, needing an adjustment as the command module chatted with Houston.

Alfred patted the arm and said, "You've got a better grip on that panel than Mattie does on his mental health." She was almost alive, the machinery warm, and she practically purred.

“Captain, we’ve got some funky radiation readings.”

“Almost done, just crank’er up .2 degrees and I can get this finished and come back in for some sweet tea.”

“Houston advises re-entry.”

So? They hadn’t ordered to retreat, and navigation wasn’t panicking. “I just need oh point two degrees and thirty seconds.”

“Noted.”

Canadarm moved a touch. “There you go.” He centred the panel and lined up the screws. He was the last one in when the alarm rang. Emergency lights flashed red and blue. Alfred had never heard them in action before and grew cold. Comms opened again. No. He breathed. He was not panicking.

“Captain, they’re ordering re-entry.”

“Retract the arm. On my way.”

Alfred gripped the rungs and swung his line out of the way. He pushed off hard and scrambled over the top of the rigid cylinder of the can-shaped module. It was dark here, away from his work lights and sliding across the expanse towards the hatch. He caught himself on the handle, keeping his movements controlled.

“Captain?”

“Almost there.”

“Radiations rising!”

Alfred glanced towards the sun, not looking at it. It was brighter now, with dark fire spots. The rings of light jumping up the Corona stretched and flexed like the hoops of the flexible baleen skirts he used to crawl under every now and then before Lemonade Lucy came along and put him on the straight and narrow.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me we were going to get solar flares?”

“The data didn’t show any!”

“Well, that just dills my pickle.” He muttered. He was almost at the hatch. It was brighter now, and he scrambled up the rungs, barely touching one before climbing the next. Alfred swung at the hatch.

Almost there, almost there. Why was he hot? He shouldn’t be hot. His fingers slipped inside his gloves, but he had the lever in his hand. The world fell black before he closed his fingers.

Incident Report Diplomatic Security Service Bureau of Diplomatic Security State Department

On [redacted] and at [redacted], the ISS and ground services at Carnaval facilities reported unusual radiation readings and advised the crew to return inside. See addendum one. Captain [redacted] was in contact with personnel until Captain [redacted]'s suit abruptly transmitted a distress beacon. A thorough search of the ISS was conducted, leading to the discovery of an empty spacesuit, with the helmet still attached. The inner flight suit, including the Snoopy cap and lining, was not recovered. It has been suggested that a replacement may have been made. However, the space suit contained four viable samples of [redacted]'s DNA, leaving no doubt that it belonged to [redacted]. See Addendum Two.

Two simultaneous investigations were conducted by a multidisciplinary team of experts from [redacted] and [redacted]. Interviews were conducted, telemetry data analyzed, and video footage reviewed. The spacesuit Captain [redacted] wore was intact, with no signs of damage or malfunction. Video footage and telemetry data did not reveal any abnormalities or anomalies, except as previously noted. Crew interviews did not provide any significant information regarding the incident. Pushback regarding these results has been seen overseas, significantly [redacted] and [redacted]. It is the recommendation of this body that our counterparts be updated as to the results of this investigation due to the international familial ties of the next of kin and the diplomatic pressure being leveraged.

#hws america #aph america #the dangeld axe to grind: the viking age time travel au #my writing || cacoethes scribendi #Alfred and the stars || the first golden retriever in space #alfred || o beautiful for spacious skies #dont know why im continuing this part one flopped so hard but lmaoooo i finally figured out how to do plot i fucken guess

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scribomaniac · 1 year ago

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forward, always: chapter 2

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

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

At least Izuna stayed in one place.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Blood gushed down the smallest boy's leg.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Sakura-sama.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Izuna merely grunted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Izuna scoffed but didn’t argue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dinner, Sakura-san?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---------

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

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

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

“Yes,” Sakura answered with a raised brow.

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

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

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

“I’m not alone. I have you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sure.” She’d already checked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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starlightshadowsworld · 8 months ago

Text

The Fallen King Part 3: Your Painted Fear

Part 2

(Tw for child abuse, dehumanisation, hallucinations and Beast Atsushi's self esteem.)

There were sweets in his hands.

His hands were smaller, softer than they should be. And yet neither Number 78 nor his hands were strangers to hard work.

The dining room of the orphanage was a large one and it was to be scrubbed top to bottom after every meal. Such a task was not for the faint of heart.

It went on for hours and the pain in your hands lasted even longer. This was supposed to be one such day. That is, until Number 78 found some sweets. He had never considered himself to be lucky, quite the opposite in fact.

The Headmaster told him almost tirelessly that Number 78 was a beasts of calamity. A being that bought destruction and misfortune onto others.

Number 78 wasn't sure what he had done.

He had not been fed that night, nor had he been fed the night prior. Or the night before that. It was because Number 78 had done something wrong.

He was always doing something wrong according to the staff. And that meant more often than not that Number 78 was being punished.

Not that Number 78 knew what he had done wrong.

Not yet at least.

But Number 78 wished he knew what he was doing wrong.

If he knew, maybe he could change. Number 78 wasn't exactly sure how because he'd been a good for nothing as long as he could remember.

But maybe one day he could be a good for something?

He thought maybe these sweets signaled good fortune his way. But Number 78 was not a clever boy, he didn't realise that he had broken a rule.

“And who, Number 78 decided that those sweets belong to you?” Bellowed the Headmaster, a tyrant of a man who glared down at the feeble form of Number 78.

The man always seemed larger than life, or maybe that was because Number 78 was so small. His clothes were hand me downs from an older child that left years ago.

Clothes that he was supposed to grow into but everyone knew he would not.

Number 78 would prefer to dissappear into the ground but alas he had to face his punishment.

“I… I just thought because I found them that they were mine now.” He answered feebly with tears in his eyes.

Number 78 was among many things a pathetic little crybaby. The children giggled and the staff didn't bother hiding there smiles at his plight.

Laughter cracked through the air like a whip.

Number 78 flinched at the sound, cowering from where he stood. He probably would've done so regardless. But at least now his fear seemed warranted.

The Headmasters smile was nothing but cruel as he starred down the boy. “That's the problem, Number 78. You thought, when we all know you're too stupid to be able to do such a thing.”

Number 78 felt himself be dragged away. He didn't bother fighting, not that he could anyway. The Headmaster was the king of this small kingdom and Number 78 was his prisoner. He knew what came next, he sobbed just at the sight of the hammer.

The nail had rooted him to the ground for hours.

It was that day all over again and yet Headmasters voice sounded different. In fact he sounded like… “It's a pity I wasted so much effort giving you such a good name. I guess you'll always be stupid Number 78.”

Atsushi raised his head, something he never would have tried at the time. The Headmasters cruel visage did not stare back at him. He found one piercing brown eye staring down at him. The other hidden behind bleeding bandages.

There was blood.

Too much blood.

Number 78 wasn't on the floor of the Orphanage anymore. He was on the ground of the Port Mafia building. Looking down at Dazai's bleeding smiling staring at back at him.

__________________

Atsushi shot up awake and shaking in a bed that he immediately knew wasn't his. For starters, it was much too nice and the bed much too comfortable.

He shook off his confusion, examining his surroundings as his training kicked in. The room was filled with the familiar smell of woodsmoke and tea leaves. It felt like a comforting embrace, one that he so desperately wanted but would never seek.

Especially not now.

Instinctively Atsushi reached for his neck and sighed in relief feeling his collar.

It cut his finger, grounding him to the here and now. Number 78 didn't wear a collar. The collar meant he was in the Port Mafia. The collar meant he was Atsushi Nakajima.

His hands were empty.

Atsushi grabbed his coat from where it was draped over a chair. He was putting on his shoes when someone knocked on the door.

He paused, before relaxing at the familiar pattern that was only known to himself and one other. It gave him more comfort than he'd like to admit. “Come in” he said and a moment later Kyouka walked in.

She was carrying a tray with green tea which she set down on the desk, handing Atsushi a tea cup before before sitting beside him with her own. Atsushi held the tea cup in his hands, letting it warm him and ground him.

It was a tradition of sorts between them. Whenever the other was having a rough day for the other to brew tea. It was something Kyouka insisted on, and something Atsushi happily followed.

Though sometimes he wondered if she realised more often than not it was her making him tea.

He didn't deserve to have it today.

But one pointed look from Kyouka silenced any comment from Atsushi. “Thank you” is what he said instead, taking a few sips at her silent nudging.

Once she was satisfied, Kyouka began drinking her own tea. It was a comfortable silence between them, neither Atsushi or Kyouka were people of many words.

Unlike their mentors.

But that didn't mean Atsushi had the luxury of not explaining himself. Not that he would dream of keeping this a secret from Kyouka.

If the world wasn't at risk he'd tell her it all. Atsushi put down his tea cup, silently signaling a start to the conversation. Kyouka put hers down a few seconds later, gathering her thoughts.

Before finally looking at him and asking “what do you remember?” She didn't even bother to try and hide the concern in her voice or the worry in her eyes.

Atsushi remembered red. How he'd killed hundreds, thousands and yet he'd never seen that much blood in his life.

Atsushi thought of pristine white bandages drowning in a scarlet river. He thought of toothless smiles forever frozen in place looking up into the sky.

“... I found him.”

Kyouka nodded like it pained her to do so. She stared down into her tea with an expression Atsushi couldn't quite place.

"I know. I found you.”

Atsushi blinked in surprise, he didn't remember seeing Kyouka after the meeting. Kyouka smiled sadly, having expected this.

“I met up with Kouyou at the east wing after your meeting. You were supposed to catch up with us but you must've accidentally gone on ahead.”

She looked down “we didn't find you until you screamed…I thought you were being attacked.”

With the fight between the Agency so fresh in her mind, Kyouka hadn't hesitated. She hasn't even waited for Kouyou's instruction.

The second she heard Atsushi scream, Kyouka had ran on ahead like she was being chased with Demon Snow hot on her heels.

But there was no attack, no enemy in sight. All Kyouka found was Atsushi clutching the still form of the Port Mafia Boss.

“I don't think you noticed me, which was werid because you were looking right at me. But you were talking so I thought maybe you did.”

“What did I say?”

“I'm sorry.”

Kyouka could only watch as Atsushi sobbed and screamed apologises to a man that would never hear them.

She had stood powerfless and afraid at his side not knowing what to do until Kouyou showed up. Kouyou had put a hand on Kyouka's shoulder before gently but firmly telling the girl to go prepare some tea.

“I've got him, go.”

Kyouka's legs had felt like they were made of lead as she stumbled away. She kept walking even when Atsushi cried.

Even when Kouyou's reassurances got louder to be heard over his sobs. Because Kyouka trusted Kouyou, because Kyouka herself could not comfort her brother.

And she trusted that Kouyou would bring him back safe from harm.

Now, Atsushi reached for her shaking hand, squeezing it softly in his. And Kyouka both loved and hated that he knew how to comfort her but she had not known how to comfort him. She squeezed his hand back and he smiled.

“I'm-”

“Atsushi Nakajima if I have to hear you apologise one more time.” Warned Kyouka, eyes sharp as his smile turned into a smirk.

Taking his hand from hers, Atsushi dropped into a mock bow. “My most sincerest apologies Lady Izumi.”

Kyouka snorted. Swatting him with her hand and giggling as he cried out in mock pain. “But, are you okay?” She asked seriously, Atsushi looked down and shook his head.

Wordlessly, Kyouka hugged him. Atsushi sunk into her embrace, tears in his eyes but they did not fall.

“Man my birthdays suck” he said, it should've sounded a lot more snarky but it just sounded sad. “It's not your fault.” Said Kyouka, unfortunately she knew him well.

“I think I over did it with your party.” She confessed, not knowing how that could ruin the day but maybe she jinxed it.

Atsushi looked at her with nothing but soft suprise “you… Planned me a party?” Kyouka nodded, not seeing any reason to keep it a secret any longer.

Kyouka had known even before the day had begin that it was going to be a difficult one. Atsushi's birthday never came without struggle for himself.

It had always been that way for as long as she'd known him. Atsushi was more than happy to forget the day at all but that never sat right with Kyouka.

“It's just, he always insists on celebrating my birthday. And it's always the best thing ever… I just want to do the same for him.” Kyouka had explained, she and Karma had been taking a break from putting up decorations to watch Chuuya make a balloon arch.

According to him it was “absolutely vital for the best party ever.” Kyouka wasn't sure about that but who was she to argue.

“Did he ever tell ya why?” Asked Chuuya, putting the finishing touches on the project. It was kinda funny watching the executive get so excited over something like balloons.

Kyouka had been planning to do this alone but Karma had seen her setting up and offered go help. Chuuya had arrived minutes later with arms full of balloons and joined them with a grin.

Kyouka didn't pry, even if she wanted to know the exact details as to why Atsushi hated his birthday so much. “Me too kid” agreed Chuuya after he'd left and returned with some smuggled in birthday cake.

“But Atsushi will tell us when he's ready.” He punched one of his fists in his hands and grinned at her. “And when he gives us the names, we'll kick their arses.”

Kyouka nodded in complete agreement. “Whenever I ask he gets all sad and says ‘let's just say... The Orphanage weren't exactly happy I was born at all.’ She almost missing the way Karma frowned and Chuuya's expression darkened for a moment before he sighed.

He landed on the ground beside her, determined. “One of these days I'm gonna burn that place to the ground.” Kyouka nodded, wholeheartedly agreeing.

“Maybe that could be Atsushi's birthday present.” Wondered Karma out loud. Chuuya snorted in response “as fun as that would be I don't think he'd appreciate it. But, I think he'll appreciate us all trying to make the day good for him.”

“You think?” Asked Kyouka, hope in her heart and Chuuya smiled. “Oh I know, trust me he's gonna love this.” Kyouka hoped he was right.

Atsushi's negativity to his birthday didn't mean she ever let the day go without acknowledgement.

In her own little way, she would remind Atsushi that she was glad he was here in her life. Everytime he'd accept it with suprise before giving a small tight smile.

“I think the arch might need more balloons.”

“Right?! There's probably some more stashed around here somewhere. Let's go guys!”

Atsushi listened with a small soft smile even if he somehow looked sadder that before. “I appreciate it, but I don't… I don't think I can enjoy a party right now.”

Kyouka nodded, smiling back and hoping it was just as reassuring as his always were. “That's okay, we can have your party when you're ready.”

Atsushi didn't have the heart to tell Kyouka he didn't think he'd ever want to celebrate his birthday again.

But he smiled regardless and nodded. “As long you help me blow out my candles.” She smirked “of course, you're getting so old now you have too many to blow out.”

“Kyouka?!”

Kyouka grinned before falling silent, collecting her thoughts again. “So” she started after a moment “does that mean I have to call you Boss now?”

Atsushi wasn't surprised that she figured it out, well either that or Kouyou told her.

Despite the seriousness of the statement, Atsushi snorted “only when we're not alone.” Kyouka smiled, a sense of relief filling her bones that nothing had changed between them.

“For what it's worth, I think you'll do great. Boss.” Atsushi wasn't sure why but tears welled up in his eyes.

Something about hearing it from Kyouka made it sound all the more real. It made it feel almost like Atsushi was doing the right thing.

Even though Atsushi knew he was doing anything but.

___________________

Once the wreckage was cleared and the stability of the building was assured, the news broke out.

The Port Mafia never did half arsed anything and the collective reaction to Dazai's death was felt throughout the city.

Kouyou, Verlaine and Ace had all come together to deal with the aftermath. Holding a united front even with Chuuya currently hiding away from it all. Fortunately no one was dumb enough to bring up his absence.

Even if everyone felt it.

Atsushi was hidden from it all lest the Port Mafia's rage was directed at him. Verlaine had even allowed him to stay in his study (the room Atsushi had woken up in prior.)

Atsushi personally wouldn't have minded going out. It's not like that rage was misplaced. Dazai's death was his fault and if anyone had to pay for it, why shouldn't it be him?

Even so Atsushi stayed silent, knowing at the very least Kyouka would kick his ass if he left her sight. He had scared her, he knew that much. Kyouka looked at him sometimes like she was afraid he would vanish.

She had always been by his side but now it was like he'd gained a second shadow. It should feel unnerving but Atsushi felt it was very much deserved.

At least if nothing else his cursed existence could provide comfort to his sister. Atsushi didn't think he'd ever forgive himself for scaring her so badly.

He hadn't asked about Chuuya since the meeting.

Not because Atsushi didn't care about his mentor… Former mentor now. It was because Atsushi didn't think he deserved to know. Chuuya definitely didn't want anything to do with him right now, Atsushi was sure of it.

“You don't know, he might be there.” Said Kyouka, but even she sounded unconvinced. “How do I look?” Asked Atsushi instead, tugging on his coat self-consciously.

In all his time with the Port Mafia Atsushi had never really attended one of their lavish events. His attendance was as either Dazai's personal security or outside security for the event.

And well, no one ever really cared what security was wearing.

“You look different” Said Kyouka with a smile. “A good different” she added and Atsushi sighed in relief. Kouyou has allowed him to wear his usual coat.

But his black turtleneck had been replaced with a red shirt and black tie. Similar to what Chuuya wore on a day to day basis.

Speaking of Chuuya, he would not be in attendance for the event. Despite it being mandatory to do so, he'd taken a mission that meant he wouldn't be able to attend.

“You know, you could order him off it” Atsushi refused to do so, even without the importance of the mission. The idea of giving Chuuya any kind of order made Atsushi's skin crawl.

Though Atsushi couldn't help but feel saddened. He had hoped Chuuya would have simply attended the event and ignored him.

Glasses were raised and everyone drank to the former Boss. Kouyou nodded approvingly from the corner of his eye. Atsushi thought she would, given he'd said what he thought Dazai would in such a event.

Atsushi allowed himself to breathe for just a moment. “Isn't that sweet, a toast to my life huh?” Atsushi froze as a familiar voice reached his ears. He turned and found standing in the corner of the room, was Dazai.

He looked just like he had when Atsushi found him. Blood stained bandages and a frozen smile.

The only difference was that Dazai wasn't wearing his scarf. Atsushi felt ill when he realised it was wrapped around his neck. The soft fabric felt like it was burning him from the inside out from where it sat against his neck.

Against his collar.

The collar that marked Atsushi as Atsushi Nakajima. The collar that gave him his life and purpose.

The collar that Dazai had placed on him. The collar that Atsushi hid behind his dead mentors scarf just to act like he belonged here.

“I just find it funny, seeing as my death was entirely your fault.” Said Dazai, a gleeful smile on his face that stole all of Atsushi's strenght.

Hearing it from himself was one thing. Hearing it from Chuuya was another. But hearing from Dazai himself that his blood was on Atsushi's hands. “Atsushi” called Kyouka, suddenly at his side.

Atsushi wasn't sure why she seemed so concerned. That was until he noticed the glass he was holding had shattered in his hands.

Red wine running down his hand…the same shade as Dazai's blood. He shakily smiled, wiping down his hands and apologised with a line that sounded faker than he was.

He let Kyouka lead him away, watched as the glass was removed and his ability removed all traces of his actions.

Would his ability have saved him if he jumped after Dazai? Would it even have mattered if it hadn't? If Dazai had lived while Atsushi had died.

Can I hug you?”

Atsushi nodded, slumping into Kyouka's arms. He felt so tired but he couldn't rest now. He needed to go back in there. He had to go back and play the part he'd put himself into. “I don't know what's going on up there” she said, gently poking his head.

The sadness in her eyes bloomed guilt in his heart.

“But… Please dont go down a path I can't follow.”

Atsushi smiled, it was gentle and warm. And he hated it, he hated that Kyouka relaxed at the sight of it. Because it was fake, just like everything about Atsushi was. From his smile to his coverstory to his name.

“I won't, I promise.”

A lie. Because Atsushi had long since begun his walk into darkness. And no matter how close he was to the shadows, no one could reach him now. Not even Kyouka could follow him where he'd gone now.

Atsushi had lived while Dazai had died. This was his punishment, this was the penance for his crimes. To wander alone in a maze of his own creation. Atsushi smiled at Kyouka, feeling the scarf around his neck tighten.

The only real thing about him were his lies.

#The Fallen King #beast atsushi #atsushi nakajima #beast kyouka #kyouka izumi #ozaki kouyou #beast kouyou #dazai osamu #beast dazai #bungou stray dogs beast #bsd beast

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