#i don’t mind the occasional out of character moment in fanon work if it’s done well

[the-eclectic-wonderer]

For the character asks, Blanche. Questions 8, 10 & 12 😊

hiii friend!! thank you for the questions!! <3

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

Oh wow. This is a dangerous question, haha!

‘Despise' is a pretty strong word. I feel like the one thing I really can't stand is character assassination (although this is true for every character I like, to be honest). I'm not the authority on what makes Blanche Blanche, of course, but I have seen a few instances when it felt like people only saw the superficial parts of her and forgot about everything else, you know what I mean? Thankfully that's pretty rare around these parts though :)

There's one thing that's more specifically Blanche-related that's a pet-peeve of mine, and it’s the accent thing. I don't really like it when accents are explicitly written down in fanfic, and since Blanche is the one with the strongest accent in the cast, this happens to her sometimes. I just want to point out that this is not wrong per se, it's just a me thing! I prefer to 'hear’ the accent in my mind while I read — if I have to stop and parse the meaning of a sentence mid-action, it's harder for me to fully immerse myself in the story. I don't mind the occasional truncation of a 'g' at the end of a verb, or the odd 'y'all' in a phrase, but if every sentence is written like that it does get a bit hard for me 😅 once again though, this is just my personal preference, and I definitely don't despise the practice.

10. Could you be best friends with this character?

I'm actually not sure how to answer this! If we didn't know each other at all, I think we'd need to be in a situation where we have to spend some time together in order to become friends (like, idk, working together or something like that). We don't share lots of interests (appreciation for art aside), and her passion for men would definitely throw me off at the beginning, so I'd need a reason to spend time with her to get to know her! But we are more similar than we seem, so once I did get to know her better, I'd love to be her friend :) we'd probably drive each other crazy on some things, but I need someone to get me out of my comfort zone at times, and she'd probably benefit from having a more 'grounded' friend, in the same way she benefits from having Dorothy as a friend.

... of course, this is all assuming that she'd want to be my friend in the first place, which is not a given 😂 I'm probably not interesting or fun enough to convince her to give me a chance, but a gal can dream, you know?

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

Just one? :')

I've said it before on here, but I headcanon that she's a cover hog. It just makes sense to me! And, still related to sleep, I feel like this is basically canon, but she's a night owl. She's more active during the night, she sleeps in, and it takes her a while to wake up in the mornings.

She actually is knowledgeable about art -- but not necessarily about artists! I think she likely doesn't have a lot of formal education about art (and especially art history), and even if she did study anything related to it she doesn't strike me as an exceptional student overall, but she has a natural instinct for visual beauty -- she's great at things like recognizing which paintings were made with similar techniques or within the same artistic current, distinguishing the traits and characteristics of painters, identifying specific shades of colour, this kind of stuff. Show her a painting and she'll correctly tell you that it's a Van Gogh, how he painted it, the precise shades of colour he chose and why he chose them -- but she also doesn't know that he cut off his ear, you know?

She was a bit of a reckless driver, especially in her youth -- the kind who likes to hit the gas just a tad too much, who plays the music just a tad too loud. She likes acting larger than life, she likes having fun, and she likes attention, so this feels appropriate for her. I figure it probably wasn't noticeable because she rarely drove herself (she always had a gentleman at her side to drive her around), but she never really grew out of that particular trait -- until George's death. After that, I think any imprudence behind the wheel would evoke his accident in her mind, so by the time the Girls met her she had turned into a very conscientious driver.

Thank you, these were so much fun to answer!! I love love love talking about Blanche <3

[CHARA CTER ASK GAME!!! 💫]

[fallen-in-dreams]

7 Signs of a Cheater

Links: FF.net & AO3. Pairing: Sakura/Gaara. Summary: When Sasuke cheats on her, Sakura returns the favour. It's not cheating if he did it first... right? A vignette of how GaaSaku happens when SasuSaku wasn't paying attention. AU Modern GaaSaku/SasuSaku. Status: Complete. Warning: Angst. Jealousy. Not a moral kind of story. Lemons. Bad sex. Good sex. Cheating. Also: if you do not like SasuSaku (can't stand it or just don't like reading it) I suggest you DON'T read this. It's not just GaaSaku in here. (But yes, this is ultimately GaaSaku. Disclaimer: I have enjoyed FANON SasuSaku in the past, so no character bashing was intended. Not sure that translates very well in THIS story, because of its premise, but whatever.Enjoy. ^_^

.:.

1) Mysterious phone calls or texts on his phone.

The ringing woke Sakura up and her eyes fluttered open. She didn't move, knowing before she looked at the clock that it was not light out yet and whomever was calling could just go to early morning hell. Besides, they had an answering machine and Sasuke was anal about letting it take over when his beauty sleep might be interrupted.

This was why she was surprised when the ringing stopped abruptly, and she heard Sasuke's baritone voice answer it. Sakura froze in place, hyper aware of how her breathing had stopped instinctively and closed her eyes quickly, heart racing. Forcing herself to breathe deeply, she imitated sleep. Why she felt the need to do this she didn't know, until his voice lowered to a whisper.

She strained to hear him.

"I told you not to call me at home … no, she's asleep. Just …what?"

Snippets of his conversation that made no sense whirled in her head.

"I said I'll see you later."

Whispering. She watched the minutes tick by on the clock.

"Don't call me at home."

More whispering. The clock beeped three times as it hit exactly 3am.

"Hn. I'll see you there."

Then silence. Like he was trying to make sure she was still asleep, Sasuke climbed back into bed and touched her shoulder. It took all her self-control not to respond. But he tugged a little harder and she could no longer hide behind the façade of sleep. Pretending she was just waking up, Sakura let out a soft yawn, rolled onto her back and looked over at Sasuke. She rubbed her eyes for good measure and kept them only half open. She noticed he still had the phone in his hand; her eyes dropped to it and his fingers twitched, like he'd been caught out, so she said the only thing she could think of.

"Sasuke, did someone call?

"Wrong number."

She frowned as he laid down and rolled away from her on the bed. If it was a wrong number, then why had the call lasted for almost five minutes?

.:.

Sakura was done feeling sorry for herself that her boyfriend was busy. Again. She took Naruto up on his invitation—one also extended to Sasuke, but the Uchiha had cited work to get out of it—and headed out to the club that the blond had organised to take over that night for his twenty-first birthday bash. Her name was on the list, so she waited impatiently for the bouncer to let her in, ignoring the way his eyes lingered on her tits. She wished she'd worn something more appropriate for the cool night. Her strapless dress was perfect for her because she could hardly call her chest endowed. It fitted her like a glove, too, and was made of a shimmery, black material.

Naruto was going to get a kick out of it.

Finally let inside, Sakura clutched her purse tightly, moving the strap over her head; it accentuated her non-existent assets, which she was just fine with. Sasuke hadn't been making an effort to make her feel sexy lately, so this would have to do.

Strangers, beware. You can look but not touch.

She giggled at herself, inwardly, then looked around for a blob of blond hair.

Found you.

He was talking animatedly with some guy with red hair. They both turned to look at her as she drew closer; the redhead caught her eye and she remembered him right away from a picture on Naruto's desk at his apartment. It was for the redhead's birthday the year before, apparently. Sakura rationalised her quick memory from a single photo because his unusual hair colour stood out. And now that she'd seen him in the flesh, she remarked internally just how good it complimented him. Gaara was an out of towner, only in Konoha because of the blond. He was also apparently some big shot in Suna.

She felt a thrill go through her body at he way he was blatantly ogling her.

"Sakura-chan!" Naruto yelled and hugged her. "You look amazing! That dress is awesome! Come, meet Gaara. He doesn't bite, I promise."

This Gaara smirked, taking her hand and kissing it gently; his fingers brushed over her skin, teasingly. She blushed. "Not unless you want me to," he said, and she felt her mouth go dry.

This is going to be a long night.

.:.

2) Unpredictable behaviour.

He'd been more quiet than usual the past few weeks. Sasuke was working so late his head had barely hit the pillow before her alarm went off; her shifts at the hospital were also starting earlier. Tsunade-sama was running her ragged, but Sakura enjoyed the challenge. It was a welcomed distraction from the nagging doubts that forced their way into her head when she was at home—alone and wondering where her boyfriend was this time.

But every so often she thought he might tell her; he opened his mouth when she asked him how his day was but then shut it just as quickly, murmuring, "hn" and then going back to whatever he was doing that was so damn important. Sakura would be more offended by his standoffish attitude if she too, hadn't been overworking herself lately.

But she missed her boyfriend. She missed his kisses, his caresses, and when she was able to get more than a monosyllabic response from him. Sakura saw him in the morning when he got up and she was almost out the door, as well as some nights when she'd woken up as he returned home. Then there were a few sporadic days—such as weekends and his normal day off—where she would wake to the smell of him cooking breakfast. Or to the feel of his fingers working their magic between her legs and his mouth leaving wet trails along her neck. But those days were few and far between and becoming a chore to wait for.

They'd talked about this.

And his behaviour became so unpredictable that Sakura—in her desperation for his attention—started a fight with him. She didn't want it to come out of nowhere and be about something stupid, but that's ultimately what their fights ended up being centred on. She wanted to get him to admit what was wrong with him, so she brought up his family. It wasn't a taboo topic, but he didn't like talking about them, either. Other times she'd mention them, he'd just go quiet and wait for her to give up on getting a reaction from him. But this time…

"Sakura, shut up!"

She recoiled as he stormed out of their apartment, grabbling his car keys and coat, and slamming the door behind himself. The minutes ticked by as she stood there, with her mouth hung open and the tears prickling at her eyes.

Sasuke didn't tell her to shut up and he certainly never yelled at her. Not even in his angriest moments.

What the hell is wrong with him?

And how the hell was she supposed to help him if he wouldn't talk about it?

.:.

Alone for her day off, Sakura contacted a few friends, bored out of her mind. But everyone seemed to be busy, so she decided to invade Naruto's space—he did it to her so often. Doing it back to him wouldn't bother him at all, she was sure. And as luck would have it, she ran into Gaara instead. Apparently, he was staying in Konoha for the week, on vacation and baka that he was, Naruto had forgotten to make time in his own schedule to hang with him. So that was how Sakura found herself, early Sunday morning, letting herself into Naruto's apartment, only to find out the blond had been called into work.

And his hot, new temporary roommate, was a master at Call of Duty. She'd never played this game before, and contemplated just turning around and leaving, but those jade eyes caught hers and she found herself completely unable to move. Away, that is. She was perfectly capable of sitting down next to him, putting her feet up, and watching him play.

They said nothing for two hours. Occasionally, Sakura would get up and grab a drink or bowl of chips—which he shared with her, without asking—but eventually found herself next to him again, in silence. But every time she sat down, she sat closer. He didn't seem to mind. The smirk on his face told her that her presence was welcome.

His eyes would dart to her bare legs when she shifted position next to him and occasionally watch her lick the salt of the chips from her lips. But she didn't find it perverted. It was flattering.

And surprisingly, the lack of chatter between them was never tense or annoying. He played the game with little interaction, not making use of the in-game chat other than to occasionally tell someone they're an idiot or grunt at them. She even heard someone—so loud—on the other end ask him if he was alone because they "could hear crunching so stop fucking eating chips" when Gaara wasn't the one eating. But she liked it. It meant she would be less distracted by his deep voice and could concentrate on the game. She often watched Naruto play and loved it. But no matter how much she tried, she couldn't stop taking sneak peeks at the man next to her.

It was this way the first time she'd met Sasuke, but where the raven-haired man had called her annoying and told Naruto to stop inviting her over during their gaming hours, Gaara seemed content with her presence.

She had no idea how much Naruto had told him about her, but he didn't seem interested in asking her anything about herself.

Once he was done with the game however, Gaara carefully placed his controller and headset down on the coffee table and then turned to her, like she hadn't been sitting there for hours, and smirked at her.

"Do you play?"

"C.O.D?" She squeaked out her question and he started running a hand along her arm.

"Yes."

"No."

"You like watching, though."

That sounds like a dirty innuendo.

"N-Naruto's really into it and I-uh like watching."

Yee, gods.

Gaara shifted closer to her on the couch and started asking her questions about herself while making it clear he was interested in her, but not actually crossing any kind of line. Not really. He had to know who she was, who she was dating, and that both Sakura and Sasuke were friends of Naruto.

But as his fingers started massaging her skin, he clearly didn't care. (IF he knew; she still wasn't sure.) He didn't try anything else with her and she felt disappointed. Nights alone and unwanted like she was some kind of asexual decoration instead of Sasuke's very fuckable girlfriend would not excuse her if she decided to start something with Gaara first.

She wouldn't let anything happen between them, no matter how good his fingers felt along her bare arms. And… legs. She couldn't.

.:.

3) He hides his financial history from you.

The Uchiha family business was worth millions. Hundreds of millions. Maybe even billions. She wasn't sure. Sakura hadn't bothered googling them since she hadn't started dating Sasuke because he drove a car that probably cost hundreds of thousands of yen. Or a million. What did she know about sports cars?

But he didn't hide his expenses from her. Until now.

They used to go over their joint finances together. Now he suddenly didn't have enough time and she was left doing her own, by herself. He wouldn't even give her an estimate on his own expenditure. They had a joint account that he suddenly wasn't depositing anything into and her password for his account wasn't working anymore.

Sakura didn't like it. She needed to find something, anything, that hinted to what he was hiding.

So, she broke into the lock boxes he'd hidden in his study; that he didn't know she knew about. Well actually, she undid the screws holding the hinges in place—it was easier than trying to teach herself to pick the lock. She'd never been the patient type when angry or annoyed. The heavy lid came off easily and she placed it carefully on the floor before rummaging through the box. There were letters to and from his father and his older brother Itachi, but she reserved that for emergency suspicion and just focused on looking for anything financial.

There were a handful of blank cheques. The cheapest was in the hundreds of yen. She frowned. Sasuke hated blank cheques. If someone got their hands on them, he could be out thousands—or more—yen.

What is he doing?

She double-checked the time (he wasn't due to return home for another two hours) and got to work on sorting out all the paperwork he didn't want her to see. If this was just a financial mix up, there'd be nothing in any of the rest of this stuff that should set off her suspicion, right?

Sakura resisted the urge to read the sealed envelopes, but noted they had no recipient name on the front. And strangely, when she rattled a few, they seemed to contain small bits of metal.

And there was a charge to a five-star hotel suite she didn't remember going to. The receipt clearly showed a single room for two occupants and many charges for room service. Things like oysters, chocolate, ice-cream, and champagne on the room service charge caught her eye. Gulping and wracked with sudden nerves, her eyes roved over the date. It was from a weekend she'd spent at a medical conference on the other side of the country.

And he'd (allegedly) been stuck at home with work.

.:.

Sakura declined all fourteen of Naruto's invites to go to some generic theme park place—she had no idea what it was because he was so excited over the phone, it came out as a ramble. He had finally gotten a day off to hang with Gaara and wanted Sakura to come with. She didn't.

Gaara was a red-hot temptation that she was determined to avoid until he went back home. Far, far, far away in the magical land of Suna. That weird city she'd never visited and was now off her bucket list. She just had to put more effort into her crumbling relationship, even if the idea of trying to pressure or trick a stubborn Uchiha into sex did make her cringe.

But when Sasuke stood her up, again, Sakura decided she wasn't going to wallow. She messaged Ino and met her at Hinata's place; they decided to go dancing. It was a place that Naruto frequented, but Sakura didn't bother worrying about it—he'd texted her shortly after their phone call to tell her he was going to take the redhead to some weird mini-golfing place. She'd sent him a few emojis and left it at that.

Imagine her surprise when, half an hour after dancing with her girls and turning down every guy that tried to come onto her, Sakura spotted a familiar redhead and blond in the crowd.

Not knowing about her predicament, Hinata welcomed Naruto happily, shyly accepting his arm as he insisted on dancing with her, and Ino raked Gaara with her eyes. Sakura was about to make an excuse to leave when he moved up beside her, ignoring Ino's pout and whispered in the pinkette's ear, "please don't make me have to dance with the other blonde tonight."

Sakura bit her lip and glanced at Naruto, who was spinning Hinata around happily, and decided not to question that comment. She sighed and let him wrap an arm around her waist (no inappropriate touching, she told him, and he smirked but nodded his head). Ino quickly decided not to be left out and immediately grinded against some dark-haired stranger, making Sakura roll her eyes. The girl loved competing for male attention with Sakura, back when the pinkette used to be single.

Gaara moved them in time with the music and kept his hands in appropriate places but she didn't trust him. Not for a moment. He took the opportunity to pull her closer when the song was slower and grind against her when the beat sped up—still nothing too bad but she was worried how it looked.

Sakura pulled away from him after the fifth song. It was late. She needed to get home.

He politely escorted her to the door of the club, and she fled.

.:.

4) Changes in tastes overnight, like music, etc.

Friday nights were their date night. Even when he was being distant and Sakura found her days spent alone in their apartment or working or calling up Ino to see if the blonde had the day off, they still went out at the end of the week. They took turns choosing what they'd be doing, and this time was Sasuke's.

He wanted to head to the cinema. But he didn't seem to care what movies were showing. So, Sakura chose a romantic time travel movie. The female protagonist was travelling backwards in time. Sakura loved it. Sasuke spent the whole time, his eyes glazed over or looking around the auditorium.

Sakura had fallen in love with Sasuke the day she realised he loved romantic movies. Even if he wasn't very good at being romantic, himself.

The soundtrack had her in tears, but he just sat there, stiff as a board and she wondered if maybe he was coming down with something. Sakura paid for their dinner later that night as they made their way to the beach. He was such an odd man, liking the sand between his toes more than she did. He was so weird, always on the look out for the latest rock metal music. She didn't share his tastes, for the most part. But it was never boring.

He must be coming down with something.

They ended the night in their apartment after the karaoke bar. Sakura was surprised by the intensity in which Sasuke took her clothes off, since he hadn't touched her in a while, but she wasn't going to complain. His hands were all over her suddenly, like he was trying too hard, but she let him have at it, afraid that any interruption from her might stop him altogether. She moaned in all the right places, touched him in all the ways he liked, and parted her legs when he nudged at her to do so.

And when he finally pushed inside her, Sakura tried to let herself go. For her mind to just disappear in the rocking and groaning and slapping of their bodies. But she couldn't. Something was different. Something was very wrong.

Unbidden and out of nowhere, images of their night out came to her and she wondered if this had something to do with his weird behaviour lately. He wasn't the most romantic person, but he did like romantic movies that actually contained plots. Like the one tonight. Everything about him felt off.

She wasn't enjoying herself. Sasuke didn't seem to be enjoying himself. Their sex wasn't normally the most adventurous, but Sakura didn't think she was doing anything wrong. She tried to mix it up, but he kept pushing her back down on the mattress, not even bothering with his signature "what are you doing" look as he continued thrusting. When he finally came, Sakura decided to worry about it later. Along with all the other sudden changes in his tastes. She ran a hand through his hair lovingly as he panted into her ear before rolling off and away to try to sleep. And she sighed heavily.

As far as she knew, he had no plans for Saturday, so she resolved to ask him about it in the morning.

But when her eyes fluttered open after a night of fitful sleep and she reached for Sasuke, happy and nervous at the same time, her hands hit empty, crumpled bed sheets instead. He'd left a note on his pillow, stating that he'd been called into work.

So much for my answers.

.:.

I'm a cheating bitch!

Sakura found herself thinking of Gaara when she was in the middle of writing out boring reports at work. Whenever something slowed down enough, she couldn't help it. Tsunade ran her ragged, as usual, and her home life was quiet and upsetting. So, in those moments when her focus slipped, her thoughts drifted to the newest man in her life.

Ugh.

Ino had talked her ear off on the phone after that night about "what were you doing?" and so forth, while simultaneously wondering out loud if this "redhead with the hots for you" would do her instead. Sakura gagged at that and told her off for it before making her promise to not tell Sasuke about Gaara.

"There's nothing going on," she rationalised it. "Sasuke's under a lot of stress at work so bugging him with this would just be unnecessary."

"Whatever forehead. But with the way you and Gaara were bumping against each other at the club, maybe you need to decide if you even want Sasuke to not know. Imagine being sandwiched between those two and—"

Sakura abruptly ended the call.

She was so not interested in having sex with Gaara. And Sasuke wouldn't go for it anyway…

Sakura felt her face flush as she stared at her phone. She didn't want to proposition Gaara or accept his advances, not really. Imagining him hot and bothered didn't mean she wanted to actually see him hot and bothered. She had a boyfriend. She had someone. Even if it didn't actually feel like she'd had Sasuke for a long time.

This was just lust. She'd get over it.

Sakura jumped as her phone rang in her hand, holding a hand to her heart to steady her breathing. She didn't recognise the number but decided a quick prank call might just be what she needed to keep her mind away from pretending she didn't want to jump Gaara's bones.

Crazy.

"Sakura."

Damn it.

"Gaara? How'd you get my number?"

"Naruto."

"Right. So, what's up?"

That was lame.

"I need a lift to the airport."

Right, he was going home. Her free hand shook slightly, and she clasped it to her chest as she tried to focus on the call. Sakura cleared her throat.

"Why can't Naruto pick you up?"

"He's inconveniently busy."

"Working, or Hinata?"

Gaara chuckled on the other end. "You don't want to know."

Enigmatic. Funny. So, fucking hot.

He's going to be the death of me.

Sakura thought about it, but then berated herself for being so rude. If she didn't get to sleep with him, then being his friend was the next best thing.

I SO don't want to sleep with him, she told herself staunchly.

Sakura forced a smile to her face. "Okay, when do you need to be there?"

"In ten minutes."

"Shit." She hadn't realised she's said that out loud until Gaara chuckled on the other end. She sighed. "I'll be right over."

.:.

5) Has new friends at work or responsibilities.

He'd been working a lot. That wasn't news. So, it was no surprise to Sakura when Sasuke was promoted. The success ladder of Investment Banking was now opened wide to him. He seemed proud of himself, so she was proud of him. Even if this wasn't a career that he'd ever seemed proud of before. Sasuke had told her once he just needed to get away from his father. It was a job he was good at. It bored her to tears, but whatever.

Sakura went to the company party to celebrate. Sasuke hadn't invited her but she pushed her way into it anyway. She made sure to know when and where it was going to be and talked so animatedly about it to him that he couldn't just say, "no, you can't come". He'd never stopped her from attending work functions with him before, but she was paranoid that this was going to be a first.

She'd rearranged her schedule at the hospital damn it. She was going to do this.

Sakura had gotten to know the names and faces of the people Sasuke worked with, but she didn't recognise any of the people at the party. They were all new co-workers, it seemed. He must've been transferred between departments for this promotion. She was very proud of him with that realisation. He was doing better. He was proving to his father that he didn't need to keep running to Fugaku every time he hit a bump in the road. She smiled up at him and he gave her a tentative one back.

But then, Sakura learned very quickly that the women her boyfriend was now working with had their eyes on him. She clung to him all night, glad she'd worn something sexy as well as expensive, and made sure to glare at any woman who got too close to him.

Why didn't he say anything about this?

Sasuke happily (for him) talked with every associate that came up to him, and even disappeared for about twenty minutes one time, citing a work emergency. Sakura spent that time receiving smug looks from his co-workers and trying and failing to feel welcomed.

When Sasuke returned, she reclaimed his arm and was happily surprised when his other hand came to rest on hers when a particularly beautiful woman came up to talk to him—while ignoring the pinkette.

How many beautiful people does he even work with?

Sasuke's main boss—a man with strange facial piercings and bright hair—was nice enough to address Sakura a few times and made a point of talking about Sasuke's new responsibilities. Sakura sighed internally, realising this was going to mean more work for him, and later nights. As if it wasn't bad enough.

There's goes my sex life.

.:.

The ride to the airport and Gaara's subsequent disappearance from her day to day was weighing down on her. A soft kiss to her cheek in thanks and she was blushing for hours afterward. He still hadn't touched her inappropriately.

Thank, kami.

But there was still an inappropriate nature to his treatment of her. She wasn't sure if he knew she was dating Sasuke as the raven-haired man was never mentioned, even during a Zoom session between Sakura, Gaara, and Naruto. Sasuke hadn't even "hn'd" at her in days and Gaara found time in his busy schedule to talk to her about nonsense and ask about her work and friends, while Naruto made faces at them both. He acted like a friend of a friend in front of Naruto but once the blond got off the line, Gaara asked her what time she had free for a one-on-one chat. She knew immediately it was a bad idea. But she sent him her schedule for the next week and he reciprocated.

They decided on Sunday night. She would be home alone and apparently, his siblings had families to tend to then. He was the only single person in his family. It was giving her bad thoughts. She distracted herself from that by telling him about a patient that threw up on her. Unsexy story, coming right up.

"Uh, Sakura?"

"Yes?" She sat up and self-consciously tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Have you ever been to Suna?"

Oh goodness, don't ask me to come to Suna.

"N-no."

He smirked at her. "Better not. It might ruin your perfect complexion."

She poked her tongue at him.

"Mature."

Sakura started at the sound of the front door of her apartment opening. Sasuke was home.

"I have to go," she said.

"I'll see you Sunday."

"Bye," she said hastily, and closed her laptop quickly, scared of what her boyfriend might think of this agreement.

Wait.

What am I feeling so guilty about?

Women and men could totally be non-fuck buddy friends. She didn't jump into Naruto's bed, so she wasn't going to jump into Gaara's. No matter how much she desperately wanted to.

Ugh.

.:.

6) He's changed his lifestyle suddenly (lost weight, more muscle, etc).

Sasuke had always been fit. He was lean but powerful, and always had a weekly schedule of fitness. He knew how to take care of himself.

But this was insane.

Sakura had been cataloguing the changes in her boyfriend and come to the logical conclusion that he'd morphed into a fully-fledged health and fitness fanatic while she wasn't looking. This was beyond OCD.

His food in their fridge changed from his usual leftover okaka to that green crap that health nuts whizzed out because they ate too much of it. Whenever she wanted to have sex, he made his excuses and either had a migraine or went for a jog, instead. When he wasn't working, of course.

She decided to get proactive after a particularly bad day at the hospital and set up a romantic dinner, knowing he was finishing work at six because of a closure of one of the bank's big clients. It wasn't that he was being laid off—just that he wouldn't be needed that night. The bosses were working with more senior representatives to resolve the issue.

So, she sat in her chair at the dining table, feeling sexy wearing Sasuke's favourite of her dark red lace lingerie under her sleek black dress, and waited for him to open their front door and be surprised. She wondered if maybe she should have just waited, naked, in their bedroom, but her boyfriend was always the horniest after a good, home cooked meal, so she waited.

And waited.

She waited for an hour before calling his mobile phone and got his message bank. A few minutes later she got a text; he'd decided to go a co-worker's house for a few hours and wouldn't be home until the usual time. Sakura sighed and blew out the candles she'd set up. This was getting her nowhere.

A week later, he finally came home on time and she was excited. Sakura hadn't decked out the dining room table again, but she'd made dinner and as he dug into his rice balls and tuna, she couldn't keep the grin off her face. He was here, he was listening to what she was saying—her day at work had been great—and she was feeling particularly randy every time he looked up at her because of something she'd said.

So, when the dishes were put away and they'd had their separate showers, Sakura pounced.

When he pinned her to their bed, holding himself up as he hovered over her, she couldn't help but notice his biceps were larger. She couldn't help but notice his lacklustre performance as he thrust in and out of her had not changed—just his physique. Sasuke had never been the sex god his fan girls had assumed from the moment he was old enough to have sex, but it wasn't for lack of trying. She didn't begrudge him that.

But now, he seemed to have completely given up.

They hadn't had sex in months, and he didn't seem as hungry for it as she'd been for him. Surely the extra stamina he'd gained from working out so much would transfer into every physical aspect of his life.

"Sasuke?"

He ignored her and rolled over, tucking his face into his bent arm. She knew that pose. He did this every time he was annoyed at himself. For someone who'd known him for years, it was obvious to Sakura that he was regretting giving into her.

Her heart couldn't take much more of this.

.:.

A few more months had passed since she saw Gaara off at the airport and Sakura was enjoying the Zoom calls with him more than any communication with Naruto. The redhead was quickly becoming one of her closest friends.

It helps that he's hundreds of miles away.

She couldn't bang someone she couldn't touch, no matter how many times Ino tried to convince her that virtual sex was a thing. It was fine for people in long distant relationships, but she was living with and dating Sasuke.

While wishing I was living with and dating Gaara.

Did it make it virtual sex if they talked about their favourite positions and what got them off? She talked to Ino about this stuff too, but Ino never looked at her like she wanted to devour Sakura when the pinkette admitted to preferring to be the dominant one, rather than submissive. And it wasn't Ino's eyes that dropped to her mouth when Sakura licked her lips in the middle of her confession that she liked the preamble of her lover slowly inserting their fingers into her. Teasing her before going all in.

It was Gaara who agreed that sex with strangers wasn't as hot as fucking someone you considered a friend.

Friend.

The night before Gaara had told her this, Sasuke had taken her quick and fast—and after his confession, it made her wonder if he was friends with Gaara. She imagined sex with the redhead would be less vanilla and more intense than the Uchiha. She often imagined what they'd look like taking their turns with her. After a few months of this virtual, sex confessions, and sick of hating herself for it, she no longer berated herself for these healthy fantasies and was happy enough to just keep this secret to herself. She wasn't going to lose her mind over this.

Their friendship was fine the way it was.

Right up until the moment that Naruto informed her Gaara was returning to Konoha again.

"He's looking for real estate for a client," the blond said, making himself at home in Sakura's kitchen. He was a great cook when he didn't make ramen. Sasuke had left for work but Naruto didn't seem bothered. When was the last time those two had even hung out together?

Gaara owned a business left to him by his father. He gave start-up capital to people and worked with them to turn their ideas into a thriving business—for a cut. This was the perk of being a rich kid with all the money in the family—he hadn't needed to work his way up that corporate ladder. Sakura didn't envy him anymore than she envied Sasuke, but sometimes she wondered what it would be like to make your own hours. She'd love that.

Maybe I should run my own surgery one day.

It sounded better the more she thought of it. She smiled at that as Naruto rambled on about how it would be so great to have Gaara back in his apartment. He'd insisted on taking him in again and inviting Sakura over.

Sakura agreed without thinking, lost in the reverie of her new inner revelation.

A few days later, she was making excuses to Sasuke, who didn't care anyway, and headed over to Naruto's. She didn't want to see Gaara. But she did. He was a good friend so why wouldn't she?

Her inner monologue continued on like this as she drove herself, oblivious to the edge she was teetering over.

Naruto answered the door when she knocked and quickly ushered her in. It turned out that he'd invited quite a number of people over to celebrate the redhead's return (any excuse for Naruto), and she suddenly felt underdressed. But when a certain set of jade eyes caught hers, she no longer cared. He was dressed casually as well and motioned for her to follow him as he left the crowd of boozing acquaintances of Naruto's and led her out onto the relatively quiet balcony.

"Hi," she breathed, when the door was closed behind her.

He smiled down at her, brushing hair out of her face and revelling in the fact that she was enjoying it. "Hi."

Inconsequential words were shared. A few lingering touches. Sakura kept her promise to herself to restrain from jumping him and he kept his promise to her to restrain from inappropriate touches.

But they so wanted to.

.:.

7) He suddenly needs a lot of privacy.

Sasuke spent more time alone than with Sakura. He had started answering his phone in the other room. He also closed his laptop when she came into his study to check on him. Even though he brought his work home, he still acted distant and secretive about what he was doing. She found herself confused by the hour long Zoom calls and his refusal to talk on the phone when she was in the room. It felt like she was living with a spy.

And after his promotion and strange changes in his behaviour, not to mention how his tastes had changed and their sex life had come to a standstill, Sakura was no longer going to ignore all the red flags.

This wasn't a relationship at all, and she was angry. Did he think she was stupid? Did he think she was so blind or in love with him that he could do anything to her, and she'd just happily go along with it?

Would I?

But the fear of losing him reined in her temper. She resorted to pretending to be asleep when the phone rang, and he waited for it to stop and then start again before climbing out of bed. He had been getting these calls on his mobile as well, but he didn't seem as annoyed by those ones.

Sakura waited for him to close the door and walk away from it before quietly getting out of bed.

She pressed her ear to the door and heard more snippets of a quick conversation before rushing back into bed to avoid getting caught. She was angrier than before and finally fed up with these games. Sakura intended to get to the bottom of this. But approaching Sasuke directly would accomplish nothing. He had a way of avoiding direct questions. She'd tried. And without hard evidence, he would just brush her aside.

She was tired of being brushed aside.

So, Sakura made a point of looking bored when he answered his phone. She made a point of lingering when he entered his pin to unlock said phone. She didn't look at him or it directly, just pretended to be dusting or talking with either Ino or Naruto on her phone to make Sasuke think she wasn't paying attention to him.

And the morning after she figured out his four-digit pin number, Sakura stole his mobile phone. She turned it off to keep him from using the landline to call it. He was in such a rush that he decided to just go the day without it—it wasn't his business phone, anyway. So, she accepted his cold lips against her cheek then called in sick to work to give herself some time to think and work this out.

Tentatively, she turned Sasuke's phone back on, knowing he would be too busy at work to bother calling it—and why would he? Her hand shook as she swiped at the screen and entered the pin number; her own smiling face stared up at her, alongside Sasuke's bored looking facade. They were his lock screen and wallpaper. It tugged at her heart and made her hesitate, but Sakura quickly pushed that aside and rifled through every text and call he'd had in the past months.

He got a lot of personal texts from women that Sakura recognised from that promotion party, but they seemed mostly one-sided. The contact that glared up at her was decidedly more intimate. She'd never seen the woman before, and the name was unfamiliar. But there she was, naked and winking at the camera; she'd sent a number of these texts to Sasuke and he'd replied… with similar images of himself. And both parties made promises to meet up. Texts marked after these dates talked about how much they enjoyed each other.

They were definitely having sex.

Sakura fought the tears but couldn't stop them. Her vision was slightly blurry as she read the sex texts and punished herself with every heart emoji and naked picture the two sent back and forth. Eventually, she threw the phone across the room where it broke against the wall and she struggled to get herself under control.

She'd been so subservient, a doormat; Sasuke could never have guessed she'd steal his phone and find the incriminating evidence of his cheating.

It didn't matter. The damage was done.

Sakura let out a sob and curled up on the bed. And for the first time in months, since she first suspected, Sakura finally broke down.

.:.

She had it out with him when he returned. What else was she going to do? But in the aftermath, there was suddenly only one thing that was clear: they were over. Sakura had done what she needed to do. She was devastated. But also relieved.

A deep, quiet rage had been building inside of her. But the dam wasn't broken, just cracked along the weak points, with water (tears) threatening to spill out from these spots. But she didn't want to break down. Not yet. Not until she was so far removed from her failed relationship that all she could see was black.

Sakura knew what she had to do. She was on a mission. After a few minutes of putting herself back together, she showered, dressed, and stormed out of the apartment. She remembered her anger and the conversation she'd had with Sasuke.

"What the hell is the matter with you, Sasuke?"

Sakura didn't trust herself to drive in this state, so she called a taxi and headed straight over to Naruto's. She stormed into the apartment; her eyes focused on her target. She didn't even notice the blond wasn't there. The hot, redhead sitting on the couch, headphones on and the C.O.D. controller in his hand stood and turned to face her entry. His jade eyes took in her form, the fierce look on her face, and blinked heavily. The door slammed behind her and Sakura stalked up to him.

"Sakura?"

He looked so concerned, so fearful, that she almost stopped. But it wasn't Gaara's feelings she'd come for.

Ignoring the light wetness on her cheeks, Sakura held a finger to his lips to stop him. His eyes widened and his Adam's apple bobbed. Her forwardness was turning him on.

"Shut up," she said. "Just shut up and fuck me."

His eyes searched hers and a quiet understanding passed between them. If he didn't fuck her now, he'd never get to. Something had happened to change things and she was determined to do this. Doing as she asked, Gaara kept his concerns to himself, ignored the complaints in chat, and met her halfway as she crashed her mouth against his.

He didn't have a chance to even turn the game off.

"I found your mobile," she'd said to Sasuke, throwing the broken phone at him.

Gaara moaned and wrapped his arms around her torso.

"What did you do to it?"

Sakura fumbled with his shirt before pushing her hands up under the hem and stroking his abdominal muscles.

"I broke it."

He trembled under her touch but eagerly responded by running his right hand along her hip before cupping her butt. His hardness pressed against her groin and they stood there, in the middle of the living room, just pressed against each other. Kissing. Groping. Moaning.

"You stole it."

A year of sexual tension came tumbling out of the secure hidey hole they'd both buried it in, for safe keeping.

"And you've been cheating on me." Sasuke fell silent at her accusation, the annoyed look on his face dropping when she let the cat out of the bag. He was busted.

Sakura tugged on Gaara's shirt and he followed her lead, moving to lie on the couch as she climbed on top of him; still kissing, still hungrily attached to each other. Now their hands moved to divest each other of their clothes. It wasn't slow or teasing. They didn't have the patience for that right now. Buttons broke, shirts ripped at the seams, and her knickers were torn beyond repair.

She gasped and pulled away long enough to give him an eyeful of her bare breasts; his eyes feasting on them as he cupped them, then trailed a hand down her flat stomach, and probing the soft curls between her legs. Still straddling him, Sakura dug her knees deeper into the couch and repositioned herself to get friction and heat between them.

There had always been heat between them.

There was a lot of screaming and she started throwing things at him. His things. Sasuke dodged them but said nothing, letting her anger roll over him and do what she'd intended. He looked devastated and lost.

Sakura swivelled her hips, sighing deeply as Gaara hardened under her ministrations. Not satisfied with the pace, she started stroking him, biting her lip when he threw his head back and let out a string of expletives before moaning out her name. She kept at it, not letting him get up when he clearly wanted to switch their positions and gripped him harder than necessary when his fingers found her sensitive spots in retaliation. He played with her body as she played with his, before, without an assent from him, Sakura held him in position before greedily lowering herself onto him.

She didn't hesitate to take what she wanted. And he didn't stop swearing as she engulfed him fully, moving above him immediately. She rose and fell, a little unbalanced until he gripped her hips to steady her. Sakura was trembling with excitement. This was really happening.

Her thoughts forgot her former lover as her new lover moved his body as best as he could, to keep in time with hers.

It was over. She wanted to forget him so desperately but couldn't stop the breaking of her heart and soul, even if she tried. Tears threatened to fall but she would not let him see her like that. There was one last thing she needed from him. The only question she wouldn't forgive him for not answering.

The redhead's hands moved from her hips when she had found and perfected her speed and movement, now tweaking one of her nipples and trying in vain to get her to lean forward so he could suckle the other. She kept her hands on his chest, using him for leverage; her eyes closed, her breathing deepening and becoming more ragged. If she opened her eyes for too long, the rise and fall obscured her vision; the tears had stopped a long time ago. She felt woozy. So much so, that when her energy started to wane, burning out her adrenaline, Sakura gave in and leaned forward, letting Gaara suckle away.

It sent a new fire through her body and she found herself riding him with renewed vigour. She couldn't hear her own screams, nor the cries of her breathless lover. The only thing that mattered was the feeling of their bodies pushing against each other. That all the tension from resisting him was melting away.

As Sakura lost track of how many times she's ground herself into him—of how many times he'd filled her so fucking fantastically before she rose and fell back down on him again—she also lost her mind.

She was coming. And she was coming hard.

"Why the fuck didn't you just tell me you wanted to be with someone else, Sasuke?"

She opened her eyes as her body convulsed; the coil curling and burning inside her. Jade eyes stared back at her, hungry and animalistic as he took her harder than she'd ever been taken before.

"Fuck!" Sasuke swore. "Because I still love you, god damn it!"

Sakura stilled as her body spasmed, coming around him. She couldn't maintain her equilibrium, falling forward to face plant onto Gaara's shoulder as he groaned into her ear, still thrusting. She didn't have long to dwell on the power behind her orgasm before the redhead was sweeping her into his own orgasmic euphoria.

Gaara.

It was always Gaara.

She was heading toward him the moment they'd met. The moment she'd seen his picture. Hell, probably the moment things were going wrong with Sasuke. She wasn't sure about the timeline, but it didn't matter.

Sasuke cheated first.

And according to Ino, virtual sex was still sex. So, nobody was innocent today. Except maybe Naruto—but only because he'd had no idea what was going on with his friends. Sakura sighed, trying to focus on the how Gaara felt inside of her as he started to soften. She didn't want to regret this, but there was still the matter of how they could even work together. She had a life here, in Konoha, and he was a big shot in Suna. But who's life would be upended by this, and was it even worth it to do so?

I'm getting ahead of myself.

Maybe Gaara had no intention of being anything other than fuck buddies. The thought made her heart clench and she had to remind herself of all the tender, thoughtful moments they'd shared over the past twelve months.

As she contemplated her future with this amazing man, his hand came up to languidly stroke her spine, his body trembling under hers as she shifted to look toward where he'd dropped his game controller and headset.

The game is still going.

The audio was still on.

.:.

[sasusakufestival]

Samsara

Summary: Sakura’s words die in her throat as the man’s eyes shoot open, and the coldest red irises she has ever seen meet hers. She is hit by a wave of terrifying certainty about two things right then – that she knows these eyes better than any other and that, if he wanted to, this man could stop her heart with just a look. [SasuSaku Festival 2017 – Day 7 – Prompt: “The Past”]

Disclaimer: This story utilizes characters, situations and premises that are copyright Masashi Kishimoto, Shueisha, Shonen Jump and Viz Media. No infringement on their respective copyrights pertaining to episodes, novelizations, comics or short stories is intended by the author in any way, shape or form. This fan oriented story is written solely for the author’s own amusement and the entertainment of the readers. It is not for profit. Any resemblance to real organizations, institutions, products or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All fiction, plot and Original Characters with the exception of those introduced in the books, manga, video games, novelizations and anime, are the sole creation of KuriQuinn and using them without permission is considered rude, in bad-taste and will reflect seriously on your credibility as a writer. You will be squished by a Susanoo wielding demi god if you are found plagiarizing.

Warning:Spoilersfor pretty much everything up to NarutoGaiden.

Canon-Compliance: Takes place during the Blank Period.

Fanon-Compliance: Takes place several years before An Inch ofGold and Unplanned.

AN: Better late than never! You guys can decide for yourselves how much if this short series is something that could have happened, and how much of is my personal head canon. Also, I kind of went to town with the SasuSaku bits here, because I firmly believe that they have a loving and active married life.

As a medic, Sakura is probably more prepared for the various symptoms of pregnancy than the average woman. She has studied the theory, administered prenatal and postnatal care, and has even delivered a few babies. At first it was only under the watchful eye of her mentor, but since she and Sasuke have been travelling to more remote villages, it’s an occupational hazard.

Her first trimester is about what she expects – it’s actually easier.

Morning sickness isn’t as bad as she worried it would be – in fact it’s not so much morning sickness as random-moments-in-the-day-sickness. Even then, it’s more gentle queasiness than anything else. There are only two mornings she spends with her face buried in a nearby bush, while Sasuke holds back her hair.

There are a few of her favorite foods that she can’t even think about without feeling nauseous. Still others cause her bizarre, desperate cravings she never experienced before. (Tomatoes! She can’t get enough tomatoes!) And she has to pee a lot more often, which Sasuke is equal parts amused and irritated by depending on how much it delays their travel plans.

And good gods, she thought she was done getting pimples!

But what she wasn’t expecting were the dreams.

From her studies and conversations with other expectant mothers, she’s come to anticipate the nonsensical, the silly or even highly sexual. What she ends up experiencing within days of confirming her condition is bleak, eerie and a little depressing.

In the beginning, her dreams have a reoccurring theme.

Whenever she closes her eyes, she finds herself walking along a beach. The tide is always out, leaving a vast and barren expanse of sand and shallow pools of water. The sky is always grey and foreboding, bracketed by cliffs in the distance. The detail in this place is staggering, despite the fact she’s never spent much time on this seashore.

Or any seashore, really.

Konoha is landlocked, and even her experiences during the war didn’t give her much time to enjoy the coastline. Travelling with Sasuke, they have occasionally been to places like Kumo where beaches are more common, but never with express recreational purpose.

If there had been, she would never choose such a grey and dismal one as the one that plagues her unconscious.

Despite this, the barren shore of her dreams feels as familiar and beloved to her as the forests and valleys of Konoha. For whatever reason, she experiences a sense of utter safety during her dreamlike wanderings, which leaves her disconcerted and confused upon waking.

The pattern continues over several nights without change, until their return journey from Tsuki. That night, they have no choice but to bed down in a forest cave to avoid an incoming storm.

Since she told Sasuke of her pregnancy, he isn’t as keen on sleeping outside as much. Sakura has assured him that at this point it really doesn’t matter where they sleep, but he’s been adamant. It’s only when there is absolutely no other option that they sleep outside.

(She’s trying not to find his overprotectiveness endearing, but she’d be lying if she didn’t say she’s been waiting her entire life for this.)

In spite of their protective wards, Sasuke insists on taking the first watch – which they both know means he doesn’t actually intend to sleep that night – and Sakura is too tired to argue.

She expects this to lead to utterly dreamless sleep, and yet with almost no transition, she is back on the dream beach.

Only there is something different this time.

眠り

A dark form lingers on the sand dunes of the horizon. She can’t make out exactly what the shape is, but as she gets closer, she realises it’s a human being.

“Hey!” she calls. “Are you alright?”

She begins to run, struggling through the unstable and damp sand, automatically reaching for her medical kit – only to discover it’s not there. She doesn’t let this deter her, however, and after what seems like forever she skids to a stop in front of the person.

It’s a man, she realises, based on the dimensions of the body, and he’s badly injured.

He is face-down and judging from the lack of movement, not breathing; when she reaches out to touch clammy, swollen skin and checks his pulse, she doesn’t find one. The parts of his epidermis not covered by a waterlogged white robe are a mass of second and third degree burns, crisscrossing themselves like the angry red roots of a tree. She’s seen this before, in electrocution victims, except from what she can perceive, there are no exit or entrance wounds on his body.

As if it was just passing across the surface of his skin.

Or…or channelled through his chakra points.

A pit forms in her stomach at this, and she intends to reach out and channel her own chakra into the poor man, hoping to boost his heart and lungs back to working order.

But that doesn’t happen.

Her hands keep probing the man for signs of life, and when she concentrates, she can’t feel any of her chakra.

Nothing.

What the…?

She considers her hands in confusion, and belatedly realises that they don’t look like hers. These are paler and more delicate, with none of her scars from training.

And no telltale glow of healing energy.

No…!

The horror at being stripped of the ability to save this man hits her like a punch to the gut, but rather than dwell on it, she shoves it out of her mind. She might still have a chance to save him, even if she can’t do it the faster way!

Her body seems to be cooperating with this, at least. Firmly but gently, she turns him around, intending to start compressions to his heart –

Only to recoil in shock.

Beneath the swollen, vein-scarred skin, is Sasuke.

夢

Sakura wakes suddenly, her entire body jerking her into consciousness. Sweat drips from her forehead, and she feels as if she has been running.

“Are you alright?”

Her husband is a featureless shadow in the dark.

“You were on a beach,” she whispers without preamble, her voice shaking. “You were unconscious, and I couldn't…I wanted to heal you, but I couldn’t do it, and then I turned you around and I think you were dead, but there was no…I couldn't…”

“It was a dream,” Sasuke assures her. When her body remains stiff and agitated, though, he reaches out and cups her face in his hand, brushing his thumb across her cheekbone.

Sakura sighs, leaning into his touch, and the rigidity of her spine eases somewhat. “I know it was. It was just…very real.”

“Your senses are heightened right now,” he informs her quietly. “Your mind is likely drawing much more on sense-memory.”

“I know that,” she protests, smirking slightly at the fact Sasuke is quoting information he’s read from a pregnancy book she picked up in the last semi-inhabited village. She never saw him read it, but she remembers that exact sentence.

Not interested in baby-books my ass, you big goofball!

“And you also know that I’m fine,” Sasuke continues, and she can hear the frown in his voice. She suspects he has noticed her expression. “As are you.”

“Other than being married to a know-it-all, I’m wonderful,” she mumbles, curling up in front of him.

“Hm.”

She feels his fingers in her hair, moving back and forth in a comforting rhythm. Sleep creeps up on her, heralded by the calming sensation of fingertips brushing against her skull –

Sakura jerks back to full consciousness.

“Wait!”

He freezes. “What?”

“I have to pee,” she tells him, navigating away from him.

“Of course you do,” he sighs, letting go of her.

When she finally gets back, Sasuke has fallen asleep. She suspects he just meant to close his eyes for a second, but then he’s been going without sleep more often these days. She worries he intends to keep up the trend until they are safely back in Konoha. For this reason alone she chooses not to wake him.

The wards will be enough…

She reclaims her spot beside him, burrowing in close and shifting so that her back is fitted against his chest. In his sleep, he drapes his arm across her waist, holding her close, and Sakura smiles into the darkness.

He used to do this when they were kids, too, though back then he would rather swallow kunai than admit to it.

Sometimes on away missions, their genin squd would have to sleep outside, too. Kakashi would take first watch – like Sasuke does now, having no intention of waking any of them to take the second – and the three of them would end up huddled together like puppies. They were all usually so exhausted that no one had the energy to complain about sleeping arrangements. Sakura would end up sandwiched between the two boys to minimize any bloodshed, with Naruto muttering in his sleep on one side, while Sasuke curled protectively into himself on the other.

But sometimes, very rarely, he would end up bracketed against her, arm slung over her hips and breathing against the back of her neck.

She never slept well those nights, too shocked and too pleased to do anything but marvel at being so close to him. He’d wake before everyone else, and she’d feel him recoil as if burned, and then his warmth would be gone.

She never mentioned it in waking hours either, because she expected him to be embarrassed. He never said anything either, even though he would have known she was awake. And Kakashi would look knowing beneath his mask, but act like he hadn’t noticed any of it at all.

Now, though, she has no trouble falling back to sleep within Sasuke’s embrace, and thankfully, there are no more dreams that night. And when the first rays of sunshine peek into their shelter the next morning, instead of pretending he hasn’t spent the night wrapped around her, Sasuke hides his face in her shoulder and determinedly ignores her attempts to coax him to get up.

Until she cheats a little, ducking under their covers and using lips and tongue in her most convincing argument. The sound of his strangled cries and panted curses echoing off the damp walls of the cave are completely worth the attempted reproachful look he gives her afterward.

“We’re not supposed to be drawing attention to ourselves,” he reminds her.

“Then you should learn to be quieter,” she retorts, wiping her mouth. When he growls and snatches at her, trying to pull her down beneath him, she dances out of his way and singsongs, “Come on, we’re going to be la-a-te.”

The rest of the morning progresses in the usual fashion, with them trekking through the forest to their next destination. It’s quiet, which is the norm – she and Sasuke don’t always talk while they travel, existing in silence more out of a perfect dynamic of companionship than over need to avoid possible threats. It’s a time for reflection, or just being together.

When she was younger, the silence would have driven her crazy, but now she is more comfortable in it.

Although today, her usually peaceful thoughts are clouded by analysing that dream she had. It’s bothering at her, hanging on where most would retreat to her subconscious immediately. She supposes it’s because she was reminded of her helplessness, a state she has actively avoided since she was a teenager.

If Sasuke notices her preoccupation, he says nothing. Until she volunteers the information he won’t pry, and she doesn’t want to say something because it sounds ridiculous in her head, let alone out loud.

They just make it to the overnight ferry, which it turns out is not helpful to her queasy stomach. She spends most of the voyage heaving over the side of the boat, or curled in a foetal position in their cabin. Only as their nearing their destination does her exhaustion finally allow her to give in to sleep.

眠り

She finds herself back on the beach, kneeling in front of an unconscious Sasuke.

Only it’s not Sasuke, she realises in relief. His hair is lighter, despite being so thoroughly soaked, and much longer. And his features are more delicate, sort of like how she remembers his brother’s being, just without such defined cheekbones.

Her healer’s instincts have already prompted her hands to reach forward and check for signs of life. He isn’t breathing and she can’t detect a heartbeat. Judging from the burns and bruises, she’d say he’s suffered both electrocution and massive trauma, as if thousands of fists careened into him.

For a split second she goes to heal him before remembering that here – wherever here is – she has no such ability. Swearing, she rearranges his body so that he is supine on his back, and prepares to restart his heart manually.

At least…she thinks she’s the one decides to do that. The body she inhabits in this dream world seems to have a mind of its own.

Pressing the heel of her hand on the centre of his chest, she begins to count out loud, watching his chest with each compression. After a minute or so, she leans down to check his airway, tilting his head back and lifting his chin.

There is still no indication of breathing, and she pinches his nose closed, covering his mouth with hers and breathing in to him. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees his chest rise and feels her hopes rise. That’s good, at least, no punctures or obstructions.

But when she pulls away, he doesn’t continue on his own.

Swearing, she restarts the compressions.

“Don't…you…die…” she orders him with each downward press.

You're…not…him…but…I…won't…let… you! Sha…na…ro!

The cycle of compressions and breathing for him continues almost without end. It goes far past the point she would have stopped for anyone else, but she can’t take the chance. If this person is anything like Sasuke, he will live. He has to live.

As she pulls away from his lips once more, preparing to push down on his chest, the stranger’s body seizes and his mouth opens in a gasp.

“Oh, thank goodness!” she cries, sitting back on her thighs to give him room. “You’re alright…take it easy, just try to breath, okay? You had me scared for a –”

Sakura’s words die in her throat as the man’s eyes shoot open, and the coldest red irises she has ever seen meet hers. She is hit by a wave of terrifying certainty about two things right then – that she knows these eyes better than any other and that, if he wanted to, this man could stop her heart with just a look.

夢

She jolts awake with a cry of surprise.

“What? What’s wrong?!”

Sasuke is kneeling beside her, his hand on her arm and staring down at her with an expression of thunderous concern.

“It was you,” she gasps, thoughts colliding too quickly in her brain to make sense. Her words are coming out jumbled. “It was you, but it wasn’t you, but it was your eyes. And you were unconscious, but I saved you, I think, but it was…it was like that day, and I though you…I thought he was going to…”

“Slow down,” Sasuke instructs her. “Start from the beginning.”

She takes a deep, shuddering breath, coaching herself to remain calm, and carefully relays everything. She tells him about the strange dreams she’s been having, how they were recurring at first but now somehow seem…

“Continuous?” he supplies.

She nods, because there’s no other way to put it. “I don’t know what this means.”

Sasuke frowns.

“I want you to tell me if this happens again,” he tells her finally.

“How would that help?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” he replies. “But I would feel better knowing what you know.”

She knows her husband doesn’t like the idea of an obstacle or opponent that he can’t fight. Perhaps he thinks the more information he can get from her dreams, the more likely he’ll be to help her. She also knows that he is compulsive about these things, and will fixate over it until there is some kind of resolution – which there may not be.

She offers him a bright smile. “I’m sure it’s nothing. It’s just two dreams, I’m getting ahead of myself. Making something of nothing, the way I sometimes do. I’ll be fine.”

Sasuke frowns like he doesn’t completely believe her, but nods stiffly.

And it seems that she’s right, anyhow. The next few nights, her dreams are once again no more than fleeting impressions. She experiences imprints of faces, moments in time, but no startling interactions with the man whose Sharingan is the exact copy of her husband’s.

It seems her subconscious has backed off a little, and she’s set to shrug it off as strange pregnancy related dreams after all.

But then it starts happening again.

眠り

The man with Sasuke’s face – But different. It’s different! – is unable to move or speak, despite his horrible eyes. In fact, they fade into a dull black almost the moment she is conscious of being back in her dream, suggesting he is far to weakened to do anything.

Still, he watches her distrustfully, as if expecting her to reach out and smother him or something.

“I’m here to help you,” she tells him quietly, hating the warble in her voice. Or the fact her voice is somehow softer than it should be. “You don’t have to worry, alright? I’m here for you.”

If possible, he eyes her with more distrust.

If you think glaring at me is going to scare me off, you’ve got another thing coming to you, I’ve seen much worse.

Oddly enough, the picture that immediately comes to mind is not her husband’s chilling stare, but a stranger’s face twisted into a snarl. The face is utterly nondescript, but the ugly rage there makes her body shiver reflexively.

There’s no time to contemplate what that means, not with a patient to help.

Her eyes rove over his body, taking in the strange – but familiar! – high-collared white robe, checking symptoms and making a diagnosis in her head.

Chakra depletion and acute over exhaustion. Whatever happened to him, he completely weakened himself to the point of handicap.

She has no idea how she’s supposed to help him without her healing abilities, and with hands that don’t necessarily do as she wants. It seems this girl, whoever she is, has some rudimentary healing skills – maybe something passed down from a family member – but it’s not nearly enough to heal her mystery patient now. Glancing around the beach, she doesn’t see anything that could be used as an elixir or healing balm. She’s going to have to venture beyond the shoreline, to see if there’s a forest or field nearby.

A tiny, nagging thought at the back of her mind tells her to run away. Without her abilities, she would not be able to stand against him if her assessment of his condition is wrong. Whoever this man is, he’s dangerous.

That doesn’t matter. I’m a medic, I have to help my patient…somehow.

Doing so on the shore is going to be difficult. She briefly entertains the idea of carrying him to somewhere more safe – but as she quickly discovers, she has no strength to do so. The man is tall and under normal circumstances probably heavy – as waterlogged deadweight, he’s even worse.

Besides, carrying him anywhere might attract attention, and that could be dangerous for both of them. Wherever they are now, this place is foreign to her – possibly to him as well. She needs to think of something, and soon.

Something at the back of her mind tells her it would be very bad indeed if either of them were found here.

夢

Sakura awakens the next morning, frowning at the ceiling of their temporary quarters, mind running through the calculations needed for a woman of average strength to carefully move an injured man the size and weight of her husband.

And possibly to look into lucid dreaming techniques, because the idea of being a paralysed watcher in her own mind is getting annoying.

Once she figures it out the first problem, she lingers quietly, puzzling out where she’s seen the man’s garments before. She and Sasuke have travelled so widely, and in such short time, that they’ve seen any number of strange clothing styles. Perhaps her memories supplied it?

She’s on the verge of an answer when she notices a hand snaking under the waistband of her pants.

“Oh, you think you’re being sneaky, do you?” she challenges playfully, and then giggles when long fingers ease between her legs.

All thoughts of her subconscious patient disappear as she finds something much nicer to focus on.

眠り

More dreams follow, night after night, but by now she expects them.

Sometimes she is not by her mystery patient’s side, instead crawling through a wooded area on hand hands and knees, gathering herbs and berries in her apron. Sometimes she is at a river, filling water skins and trying – unsuccessfully – to catch fish with nothing but her hands.

Other time she is with him, leaning devotedly beside him, pressing freshwater between his lips and crushing food into manageable portions. He accepts her help – not like he has a choice not to – but the whole while, he glares at her resentfully. Sometimes, when she does something he doesn’t like, he makes a noise like a growl low in his throat.

He is still unable to speak, and so she can’t ask him for his name.

Some procedures she finds herself researching during waking hours, poring through the few medical scrolls she’s brought with her or asking local healers about their traditional remedies. It takes every inch of her concentration in her dreams to effect even the slightest chance, such as picking a certain herb or retaking his blood-pressure.

In waking hours, Sasuke remains ignorant to her nightly vigil and although she isn’t exactly hiding this from him, she’s glad for it. He would worry needlessly, and though he hides it well, he’s already anxious. So when he asks her about her dreams, she tells him nothing new has happened.

Again. It’s not really a lie, it’s just…not completely true.

But she doesn’t think he’d take kindly to know she’s so worried about a figment of her imagination, especially as the sour-faced man in her beach dreamscape has started to grow on her.

“I hope you’re not attached to your hair,” she tells her invalid one day – night? – as she finally disparages of the snarled, wet ranks splayed beside him. “It’s beginning to attract bugs. And trust me, I know from experience how hard it is to get rid of them once you have them.”

His eyes narrow slightly, but she takes his lack of growls as permission, and carefully hacks off the hair at shoulder length.

“There, not so bad if I do say myself. But then again, I’ve had a lot of practise. I’ve had to do it on my own a few times. ”

She’s referring to her fastidious tendency to keep her hair cut while they travel, but that’s not the image that comes to mind. Instead she has visions of a cool, dark room, trembling fingers and a mirror balanced in front of her while she tries to even out the layers.

This happens sometimes. Images and ideas coming to her as she works on him. She can never make sense of them and passes them off as quirks of her psyche.

Or going batty from the stillness.

Her patient’s constant quiet reminds her starkly of how Sasuke was when they were children. While she is now close enough to her husband that she finds their silences companionable, this person before her is a different story. The prolonged hush is driving her crazy, and she finds herself falling back on childhood habits of rambling.

Not just rambling, actually. The things that come out of her mouth make her head spin. They are the utterly confusing, nonsensical words that characterise dreams – things that make perfect sense to her now, but which she knows will mean nothing to her upon waking.

“I bet you must think I don’t have a life or something,” she tells once, adjusting the small brush fire she’s started beside them. The wood she chose doesn’t give off much smoke, but the heat is comforting to her – and it keeps his body heat constant. “I guess you’d be right. Where I’m from, I’m not much more than an afterthought. My father – well, he’s important, but my mother, she was a lesser wife –”

She frowns at this, because that’s not right at all, and yet the story falls from her tongue with the utter conviction of truth.

“ – that told everyone I was going to be a boy. When I wasn’t, my father wasn’t happy. He had her put to death and it’s only because the priests said he’s be cursed if he spilled his own blood that I wasn’t too.”

The story makes her stomach clench, her first-hand anger mingling with second-hand sadness. Something is using her mouth to speak for it, and she doesn’t like it.

“Everyone says I look just like my mother, and that’s why my father doesn’t care for me very much,” she goes on matter-of-factly. “My older sister, though, he loves her. I…I would love her too, I think, if she let me.” She ducks her head, feeling embarrassed about admitting to this. It feels like she never said this out loud before. “But she so busy, she doesn’t have time. Father has sent for so many tutors and instructors for her that she’s never around. See, she’s the one who is going to make an advantageous marriage one day and make our country strong again. So, she has to be accomplished. She says it’s a waste of time, because she’s so beautiful, and I think in this case she’s right. Men take one look at her and fall in love right away.”

She sighs wistfully, and the tiniest bit of jealousy seeps into her words.

“She has everything. I wish…I wish I could just have…” She trails off and shakes her head. “Never mind. It’s not important. And all of this must be boring you, right?”

She smiles gently down at her patient, and is surprised to find that he has been listening to her this whole time with an intent expression. In fact, unless she’s much mistaken, there is something else buried in the lines of his face.

It takes her a moment to realise that it’s empathy.

夢

“Have you ever dreamed about being another person?” Sakura asks, glancing up from the trashy romance novel she’s already read three times. It’s utterly failed in its job of keeping her mind off her dreams, especially given this latest development where she’s apparently made up an entire other life for herself.

She decides to give up on it.

It’s a rare moment of downtime, not spent travelling or scouring villages for information about local disturbances. Across the clearing, Sasuke is carefully oiling and cleaning his katana, mouth set and brows drawn together in concentration.

“Sasuke?”

“Hm?”

“I asked, have you ever dreamed of being someone else? I mean, from the perspective of someone that wasn’t you,” she clarifies.

“No.”

“Oh.” She pauses. “Never?”

“Most of my dreams are memories. And I am always myself,” he responds absently.

“Oh.”

She spares a brief second to reflect on the sad truth in that – with a life like Sasuke’s, she doubts his subconscious has ever been a retreat from reality – and tries to go back to her book.

But the text is blurring together, her already vague interest gone, and she puts it down.

“I’m bored. Can we go for a walk or something?”

“We walk everyday.”

“I know that, but it’s usually to get from Point A to Point B. I meant, let’s just go for a stroll. Enjoy nature. Autumn’s so pretty, and we won’t get to enjoy ourselves so much once winter comes. And we won’t have a lot of time alone, just the two of us, come spring.”

“Hm. Fine, let me finish this.”

“I was also thinking of maybe stopping in the capital after all. They’ve got a library there, and I want to look a few things up. I know you hate big towns, but it’ll only take a few days.”

“Mm-hm.”

Sakura frowns at him, trying to discern whether he’s seriously paying attention to her or not. When he continues to wipe invisible detritus from the blade of his sword, she knows none of what they’ve just discussed has penetrated whatever thoughtful funk he’s trapped himself in.

Time for a distraction, then.

With quick movements, she stands and stretches. When he doesn’t seem to notice, she goes on to unbutton the clasps of her tunic, then her bra, and pulls them both over her head.

“I think my breasts have gotten bigger since I’ve been pregnant,” she says, pitching her voice a little louder than before. “What do you think?”

He doesn’t so much as glance up. “Maybe.”

“Excuse me if I don’t trust your assessment, you’re not even looking at me.”

Sasuke lets out an annoyed sigh and finally shoots her a brief glance, and goes back to work. “Yes, you’re bigger.”

Sakura raises an eyebrow at this, mentally counting down the seconds, and is rewarded when the rag in his hand suddenly drops and he slowly looks up again, utterly bemused.

There we go.

Still, she pretends not to notice and cranes around to examine her backside as well. “I think I’m bigger down there, too. We have a measuring tape in our kit somewhere, right? I’m going to find out, since there’s nothing else to do and you're so busy.”

She turns away, reaching toward their bags.

There’s a clatter of metal on earth and the rustle of a cloak, and then an arm seizes her around the waist from behind.

“You don’t have to resort to obvious tricks to get my attention,” he murmurs quietly in her ear, and she shivers at the feel of his breath upon the skin beneath her ear.

“Apparently I do,” she teases. “Besides, my tricks didn’t ever work when we were younger. I consider this back pay.”

“So you traffic in sexual favours now?”

“Who said anything about sexual favours?” she says innocently. “I’m just finding ways to occupy myself while you’re clearly uninterest –”

“You have always been a horrible liar,” he tells her, and proceeds to help divest her of the rest of her clothing.

眠り

Her dreams return to the murky, fleeting glimpses in the next few nights, and for a long time she barely interacts with her mysterious patient. Sometimes she still dreams of scouring the woods for things to help him, but more and more often she begins to see darker, more troubling things.

Sometimes her slumber is assaulted by the downright upsetting.

On occasion, she will find herself cold, shivering convulsively in a drafty room. She is exhausted, but doesn’t sleep, eyes focussed on the moon as she waits for morning to come. Other times – and this is even more troubling – she feels the familiar impact of fists against her face, a man’s voice demanding where she wanders off to everyday. She cowers, tears and blood streaming down her face, insisting she doesn’t go anywhere, and hoping the lie isn’t detectable.

These brief glimpses always leave Sakura annoyed upon waking, the sense of helplessness like an acrid taste at the back of her mouth. If she spends those mornings doggedly running through her taijutsu forms (Sasuke refuses to spar with her since she’s been pregnant) or crushing boulders to dust, that’s no body’s business but her own.

It seems this is to be her only outlet, too, because in her dreams she is maddeningly placid.

The next time she finds herself back with her mysterious patient, she smiles through the bruises on her face and pretends like she isn’t in pain every time she moves. She knows it’s not convincing – this man is as observant as Sasuke – but given his reticence (real or enforced by his handicap), she doubts he’ll remark on it.

Which is why she nearly has a heart attack when a dry, rasping voice breaks the usual silence.

“Where did you get those bruises?”

She actually physically jolts, looking around to see if someone has been watching them. It takes an absurdly long time to realise that her mystery patient was the one to speak.

“Did you just…?” she stares down at him in awe.

He is glaring at her again, ostensibly furious; if she knows that look as well she does, she gets the sense he’s angrier at himself for speaking than over the state of her face.

“Are you able to speak?” she asks him, heart rising hopefully, thinking that perhaps now some questions can be answers.

But he simply turns his head to one side. “Tch.”

She can’t help smile at that. She definitely knows this type of behaviour well.

“I guess you used up all your strength to ask me that, huh?” she muses lightly. “Well, don’t worry about it. I’m really clumsy, always walking into things. I feel down the stairs this morning.” She chuckles nervously. “There’s a reason no one wants to teach me the shamisen. I’d probably put someone’s eye out!”

But he exudes an aura of disinterest now, and she sighs.

She should have asked for his name.

Their silent dynamic continues across montages that dance across her sleeping mind. Of her gently rubbing healing ointments into his skin, bringing him clothing to replace his maddeningly familiar robes. She continues to experience the puzzling, violence-fueled scenes as well.

Someone pulling her hair, a high, mocking laugh from a beautiful, ivory skinned woman. Older Sister, her mind supplies. Huddling on the floor, clutching her ribs as someone kicks her, displeased once more by something she has done or failed to do. Father.

She screams at herself to stand up defend herself, but her body never listens. By the time she manages to raise a hand up to block a blow, it is too late and she feels her ribs break.

Time passes, and more often she finds herself lying in a barren room, people tending to her and speaking in low whispers. She gets the sense she is recovering from something – injury, most likely – but that knowledge fails to overtake the fervent sense of restlessness she feels.

If she’s injured and bedridden, who is caring for her patient?

It feels like an eternity before she dreams of the beach again, and a stark relief hits her the day she finds herself wandering on that damp sandbar again.

Until she makes to the spot on the shore where she has been tending to her mystery invalid, only to find he is not there.

Shock and disbelief fill her, competing with guilt that her injury kept him from checking on him. What if some wild animal found its way here and dragged him off? Or worse, what if someone found him here, thought he was a foreign spy, and took him away?

Or worse.

I have to find him!

She begins making a catalogue of possible places he can be, turns around to head toward the forest where she often sought medicinal herbs, and freezes.

Black eyes glare down at her, a sinister six-pointed red star in their centre, paralysing in their intensity. Her jaw drops in shock, but before she can say anything, he reaches out and grabs her by the throat.

“Nn-gh!”

She clutches feebly at his hand, nails scrabbling uselessly against his skin as he lifts her off the ground. Her feet dangle uselessly in the air and her lungs constrict in their need for air. Confusion and dismay fill her.

“W-w-why?” she chokes out, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“I am not weak,” he tells her coldly, his voice no longer a rasp but still low enough to make her shiver. “I did not ask for you help, and I owe you nothing.”

She whimpers.

“Know that your death would mean very little to me,” he goes on, tightening his grasp on her. Those horrible eyes gleam, and she knows that she’s about to die.

Oddly enough, instead of fear, a sense of relief overtakes her. At least here and now, it will be swift, unlike the life she spends her days trying to escape from. If that’s the case, she knows she can be brave for a few moments longer.

She musters up a smile for him, unable to speak any longer, but hoping it conveys her understanding and even that she forgives him for this.

His hand tightens again and she prepares for the end.

Only to suddenly find herself in a heap on the floor, her airway miraculously free again.

Shaking off the dizziness that comes from breathing again, she looks up to see that he is now walking away from her. It takes a little longer for her to understand that she has been spared. She doesn’t know if she is more relieved or disappointed.

“W-wait…” she whispers, her vocal chords aching from nearly being crushed. “Why…what…who are you?”

He pauses, but does not turn around, and she thinks maybe he might kill her after all. But then,

“I am called Indra,” he tells her quietly, his voice barely audible over the din of distant waves.

And then a flash of blue lightning encompasses him, and he is gone.

つづく

To be continued in another prompt :)

I hope you enjoyed the story! As part of the SasuSakuFestival, please go to the ssfest page and vote, like and/or reblog, it would be majorly appreciated!

クリ

[thephilosophersapprentice]

i almost said 'odds' but actually let's do this right [laughs evilly] 5 6 7 11 13 15 22 24 25 26 27 36 44 46 47 48 49 (i mean, unless u actually don't want to do them in which case ignore this or only do every fourth one or something)

5: I have been writing since I was nine. Seriously writing since I was 13.

6. Writing has taught me a lot about people, but primarily--I’m very good at coming up with snappy comebacks.

7. Early influences... ARE YOU SERIOUS because who wasn’t an early influence on me? Brian Jacques, C.S. Lewis, Tolkien. If I didn’t know how to write it I shamelessly copied someone else. I do wish that my writing was more like C.S. Lewis, though, and less like C.S. Forester. But you can’t force it. It doesn’t work like that.

11. Yes. Mostly Two Steps from Hell. Occasionally other bands or movie/TV soundtracks--lately I’ve been listening to Abney Park a lot. I’m an unironic steampunk/goth fan, which sounds weirder than it is.

13. Hardest character to write? Sam Jones. It seems like no two authors write her the same way and no author to date has actually done her justice. “I live in hope,” said the Doctor.

15. Hardest verse to write? Probably Daredevil and the actual canon of the MCU, which is way sadder and less interesting than my version of the MCU. Canon is boring. Fanon is fun. Therefore, everything is canon-noncompliant, or else neatly severed from the linear continuity of the MCU.

22. Favorite story I’ve ever written... are you serious right now. You expect me to pick one?!.... okay, it’s my current steampunk project. I just love the cast and everyone.

24. Favorite scene I’ve written? The same project I just mentioned. It comes at the end of the introductory sequence, when the protagonist has made up his mind to join the quest or whatever. And a monster invades his privacy to hint darkly at the future. That’s it that’s the scene--but the way it’s written is just so tense, the creature is so menacing--it’s probably my favorite thing I’ve written in a long time.

25. Favorite line you’ve ever written? Are you asking me to choose one?! How am I supposed to do that? I can’t remember half of what I write off the top of my head, that’s what I’ve got a computer for! but as of now my favorite line is probably a Marvel parody. Basically, Daredevil’s annoyed because there’s food coloring in everything, so everything tastes like petroleum. Sass levels through the roof.

26. The story I’m proudest of is probably one of my AUs with Obi-Wan because it’s so tightly written... I haven’t posted it or even finished it yet, though.

27. The best review I’ve ever gotten is always when someone says that I’ve got the characters so well or they can hear it in the character’s voice. It sounds very vanilla but it’s actually the best.

36: Both. One-shots are great for when I want to pack a punch or just study one character and multi-chapter stories are the best for developing a world and just telling a good story.

44. Writing things out of order is the only way I can get things done! It’s counter-intuitive but it’s honestly easier to skip around and then tie everything together.

46. Can it be something I haven’t actually written yet? okay because that’s what you’re getting.

In this scene, the Doctor ends up telling Henry Morgan the truth about who they are and what they’ve done. They’ve been through the Time War and they’re still alive, and that knowledge burns them. They’ll never be able to forget the horrors they’ve seen, the agonized groans of Time itself, watching their homeworld burn to dust. They’ve paid for their decision in sleepless nights and flashbacks and a past that keeps trying to draw them back in. And here’s another improbable human who should give up on them and yet, somehow, he hasn’t.

47. I have an infinite number of unpublished/unfinished stories. Stop shaming me.

48. I don’t have anything to spoil at the moment. Unless it’s the untitled steampunk project. In which case 1) Oliver’s father is a magician 2) the twins were forced to help an abusive stage magician and Margaret killed him in self-defense and 3.) the main villain of the book is Oliver’s mother.

49. Keep practicing. There’s no other way to learn. And don’t ever give up.