#sweet medical utopia

[pb-s-corner]

Part 2 of this Journey through Yume 2kki session! Let's continue! Also, now the badges will show up, I forgot to Log In in the first part.

WHAT IS THAT???!!!

Yey!! My friend is safe and sound now!

Ha... Thanks game for giving me the badges now.

Rifle wasteland reminds me so much of .flow

I spent a good amount of minutes stuck in this map to finally found the other flag

All for it to be a trap

OR MAYBE NOT!!! THANK GOD!

Ok, I'll shut up now.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 ENDING |

[yumetwokki]

[ynfg-gifs]

Yume 2kki - Sweet Medical Utopia (Red Creature)

[forthefictionallesbians]

It was a wonder how quickly your world had changed once the Affini had taken over. In a matter of months they had ripped out everything from agriculture to healthcare and replaced it with their own alternative versions. Fabricators could produce food and ingredients without the need for labor, and most of the planet had been allowed to return to nature. The roads, long decrepit, had been turned into vibrant walkways flanked by shops and restaurants. Public transit proliferated, scarcity had been eliminated, and you had never seen your home city this vibrant.

But even living in a utopia didn't prevent executive dysfunction from taking its toll. Nothing so bad that the periodic wellness checks had reason to put you into a wardship, but there were days where memory and moving could be hard. And wouldn't you know it, your medications had just run out.

"Sorry, cutie, but I need permission from your vet before I can print you any more of that!" the ai unit in your apartment's fabricator chirped with wearying cheeriness. Just your luck.

"Well, can you just call them? Ask for a refill?"

"Your vet actually left you a message last night! You're now one day overdue for your checkup, so she can't refill your prescriptions until you come and see her. Or, if you like, she can send a staff member to do a home checkup, if you like?"

"No," you sigh. "Tell Phiela that I'll be over later today." However cushy things were now, allowing an affini into your home outside of the wellness checks was still a line further than you were willing to go. It was nice to have an area just to yourself, away from their condescension and flirtation. Not that you didn't enjoy it, at least a little. There was still just a definite wariness around how easily domestication could occur that you didn't want to deal with all the time.

You drift through get-ready chores for the next hour, grabbing keys, changing to outdoor clothes, misplacing your keys, putting on shoes, grabbing water, putting on your other shoe, eating a snack, and sitting down to watch something before the chirping of your fabricator cut through the haze. "Cutie? Cutie? Oh, there you are. Phiela is wondering when you are planning on leaving!"

"Tell her I am on my way!" you say, slightly annoyed to have your viewing cut off. Standing, you walk to the door and close it behind you, hearing its automatic lock engage as you head towards the clinic.

You really don't feel like walking. Not all that way. Even if it is just over 10 minutes away, that feels insurmountably long right now. Public transit? Always an option, but it'll probably be slower than walking. And you just want to get it over with as soon as possible, and head home to watch Terran Run 5. Time to bite a bullet, and weaponize the one natural advantage you have in this world. Cuteness.

The walkway is busy, so it's not hard to pick out a nearby affini sophont-watching. Her blue-green leaves are positively rustling with excitement as she coos over every passing floret, handing out sweets to every taker, domestics and independents alike. She isn't one you've noticed around before, so it seems like there is little risk of repeat interaction and the loss of liberty that too often follows. Steeling yourself and putting on your most helpless face, you wander through the crowd and up to her.

"Hello, miss? Could you take me to the vet? I have a check-in but.... don't want to walk," you finish lamely. Fortunately, the weakness of your plea doesn't seem to matter.

"Oh my goodness, aren't you just the sweetest little thing!" she squeals, immediately enveloping you in a viney embrace. "Of course I'll take you, little sprout! But first, what's your name?"

"Uhhh," you freeze, not having expected quite the level of enthusiasm. A mistake on your part, for certain. "I'm [name], [pro/nouns]."

When the two of you finally arrive, she puts you down gently in front of the door. You try to stifle your disappointment. Even if you have no interest in becoming a floret, it is impossible to refute that being close to the affini is a pleasant experience. Between the soothing beat of her core and the gentle firmness of her encompassing vines, Barancala gave a great ride.

"Nice to meet you, [diminutive nickname]. Can I call you that? Oh I just can't help myself, you're just too adorable." Countless vines pull you even further into her arms as she stands up, cradling you like a baby. Others trail through your hair, tease your limbs, weave between your fingers. It's the not-so-unpleasant cost to this method of travel. "I'm Barancala Whist, she/her. Now which way to your clinic, [diminutive nickname]?"

You point the direction and let yourself relax as she strides vetward on her massive legs. A casual stroll for her, faster than even jogging the entire way would be for you. And all it took was allowing yourself to get cuddled for a few minutes, pleasantly zoning out as you absently listen to her ramblings. This was one more perk of affini occupation, even if it had to be used sparingly to avoid getting domesticated.

"Thank you so much for the lift, Miss Barancala!" you grin up at her. Which immediately strikes you as far too peppy. It was important to be polite, but every independent knew to avoid being too sweet. Not that it matters much, you suppose. If she really is itinerant, it's unlikely you'll ever see her again. Which is a little bit of a shame.

"Of course, little sprout!" She ruffles your hair one last time, glowing down at you, and you leave for your appointment.

[remmiesama]

Sweet Medical Utopia

WOOOO FINALLY FINISHED THIS DRAWING AFTER WHAT FEELS LIKE 300 MONTHS, so yeah!! This is a badass biker Urotsuki on a Yamaha 300 in one of my favorite areas of Yume 2kki, honestly the thing that took the longest was imagining a cute background for it, but oh well!!! I'll try to make more fanarts of this wonderful game!

[universe-prime]

Are you in need of transport A.S.A.P?

Looking to deliver some goods across Cybertron faster than a turbo-fox chasing its own tail?

Tired of having to keep track of overbearing passports just for a single ride to the nearest colony??

Well look no further than Cybertron's finest—

The mighty Click-Clack and Co.~!!

I've been thrown back into my transformers love HARD and decided to revamp/create a bunch of ocs to cope with it lmao. Anyway, meet Click-Clack and(a small part) of his dandy crew~! Click-Clack(or just Clacker for short) specializes in delivering all manner of goods and services across the vast expanse of Cybertron in just a few days time. Whether it be weapons, medical supplies, building materials, or simply an independent company needing help traveling from point A to B, he doesn't really discriminate and just LOVES doing his duty as a gigantic mailman train

To really put Clacker into perspective, I put him beside a few iconic bots from tfa...👀💦

And as an added fun bonus, I even made a map of his internal layout when he's in train mode(which is pretty much his default tbh)

But what's a train without his helpful crew, ey? This is only a small part of it, my pal @simplych4i has ocs that cover a good majority, but I can at least give a quick overview on my own fellas!!

Needlepoint

The one and only medic! If there's an incident or injury, she'll take care of you with a patient servo and a caring spark

She was assigned to Clacker due to a recent scandal that ruined her career. Her patients mysteriously wound up dead or missing memories while under her care, and enough of these reports piled up to the point where her license was revoked and no respectful hospital would ever hire her again

Overall she's a doting maternal figure to the crew and, although a bit quiet and reserved, she's always happy to lend a shoulder to cry on or a listening audial fin

Rocket

Self proclaimed demolitions expert and part-time mechanic! Should the train ever be attacked by Decepticon's raiding it for it's cargo, or any other outside threat, she's there on the front lines ready to blast them back to the hole they crawled out of

Former Elite Guard, Rocket was quickly demoted and shunned from her station due to her "sudden" fatuation with explosives and anything that could cause them. After a near-death experience that nearly extinguished her spark, she went off on a personal mission to recreate the enlightening blast that started it all in the hopes of "seeing utopia" once again....whatever that means

Nowadays, Rocket is just as explosive as her passion. Loud-mouthed and unafraid to speak her mind, she's always ready to slam a fist into anyone who crosses her path while also gleefully spreading a few headaches across her fellow crewmates

Tag

And lastly, our head of navigation! Despite their age, Tag has a natural gift for plotting out routes, understanding complicated maps, and making sure that there's always a backup route should the current one ever be interrupted

(Former)delivery mailbot by day, graffiti street artist by night, Tag often explored the seediest parts of Cybertron along their route and saw injustice firsthand. Using their artistic talent and the access they had to private letters, they'd anonymously paint rebellious ideology and personal defamation against elites as a way of speaking out. Tag's artistic trail was eventually traced back to them, and they were swiftly demoted to a spot on the Click-Clack

Tag is overall what you might expect from a young bot who was practically raised in the underbelly of Cybertron. Cute and sweet one minute, then cutthroat and petty the next, Tag is just a bundle of energy constantly looking to prove themself alongside the much older "adult" bots of the crew they're with. They can't quite grasp why everyone insists on protecting them so much, but slowly Tag has learned to accept this ragtag group of weirdos and ex-convicts as their true family

[more-better-words]

One does not lightly cross a panicking Andorian.

For @indignantlemur, @shadowinthefire, @1lostsoul0fishbowl, @deadheaddaisy, @pajamasecrets

----------------------

Karveth got the call at 1437. Ninety seconds later, he was on the transporter pad, demanding a beamdown to the surface, which no one was foolish enough to deny him, because the call had come from the Utopia Colony Emergency Clinic. Monica had been hurt, and ninety seconds was all the time necessary for a thousand terrible possibilities to present themselves to his imagination, each more awful than the one preceding.

Passersby gaped in astonishment as he rematerialized about fifty meters from the clinic door. Transporter technology was still not so common that it was an unremarkable sight, but he was in no mood for coddling civilians' delicate sensibilities. He charged into the clinic, bringing him face to face with a wide-eyed receptionist who had obviously not expected, when she woke that morning, to be accosted by an Andorian who was clearly clinging to social decorum by his fingernails.

"Monica McKee," he snarled.

Then, from beyond the reception area partition, like a blessing, he heard her voice.

"Yeah, the angry blue guy's with me."

He didn't wait for permission; he was through the sliding doors in an instant, antennae moving, seeking her, ignoring the medical personnel entirely. She couldn't be far - he'd heard her so clearly, she had to be-

"Commander Karveth?" A nurse, holding her PADD like she'd wield it as a weapon if necessary, hailed him. "In here."

He entered the exam room, and he could breathe again.

Monica sat on the exam table, conscious, unbloodied, and apparently entirely well, with the exception of her right foot, which was elevated and bandaged. She let out a sigh at the sight of him, smiling ruefully. "Well, now that you've scared everybody… Hi."

"What happened?" he asked, reaching for the hand she extended. Warm, but not too warm. Good.

"I turned my ankle at work," she said, rolling her eyes at her own body's betrayal. "Just stepped wrong. It was the stupidest thing." She heaved another short sigh. "And you were freaking out, apparently."

"All I was told was that you had been injured," he said sternly. She smiled a little, reaching with her free hand to stroke his hair.

"Guess that's what I get for having you as my emergency contact. Even though they really didn't need to call you about this."

"Can you walk?" he asked, dubious.

"That's what the crutches are for! Twenty-four hours and I'll be fine. I'll be dancing again by the weekend."

"But until then?"

"It's not a big deal!"

"You don't have to prove yourself by making light."

"And you don't have to panic."

They stared one another down for a long moment, then he sniffed. "Who said anything about panicking?"

"You did. Your antennae are still all-" She held straightened, quivering fingers in front of her forehead. He sighed. She had him there.

"All I knew was that you were hurt," he repeated, and her expression softened.

"But I'm okay, thay'va. I wish they'd told you that. And I'm glad you're here, because big talk aside, I was not looking forward to trying to get home on my own."

"You don't have to."

"Nope. Because I'm going to let my r'eysleten help me."

She held out her arms to him; he bent, slipping one arm under her legs, and the other around her mid back. She gave a squeak of surprise as he lifted her off the exam table. "Hold on to me," he said softly.

"What about the crutches?" she laughed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

"Unnecessary," he said.

"This wasn't quite what I meant by letting you help me," she said, still laughing as he carried her out of the clinic, ignoring the stares of the staff and other patients with magnificent indifference.

"It's what I meant."

"You're so sweet," she murmured.

"Apparently I am."

"So now what?"

"Now I take you home and attend to your every whim."

"You know I'm going to take terrible advantage of that, right?"

"You should."

[crazycafinecat]

Yume 2kki \\ Sweet Medical Utopia & Blissful Clinic \\ Author: Uwa

[bridgetotheskyyy]

chapter six.

masterlist

Chapter summary: Things have finally come to a head for you, but you might just have an opportunity to redeem yourself and save your family from certain doom. Somehow. Someway.

Chapter warnings: depression, suicidal ideation, nightmares, violence, lots of angst

Word count: 5.7k

A/N: sorry for the long wait! 1) I prefer to post on ao3, and the most recent chapters are up on there (so make sure you check!) and 2) lots of horrible personal stuff happened to me (my mom passed). But here it is! Chp 6!

Read on ao3 here:

“It’s beautiful,” Gaara says.

You have to agree; your village and his melt together in an alien harmony. The sandcastle buildings of the Oasis and the domed structures of the Sand marry to create something entirely new, the village now towering over the cliff side like a utopia. 

You chuckle, tip your hat lower, courtesy of Gaara, to avoid the wind that tries to kiss sand onto your face. “It is.”

“We’ll build together,” Gaara says. His hand fans at your waist.

“Mommy! Daddy!”

You turn to see your child, arms overflowing with flowers. 

“I picked some flowers for you!”

You kneel with a smile. “That’s so sweet of you!”

Your child giggles as they pick a flower out of the bunch — white with elongated petals. Your child fixes it in your hair and you return the favor with a kiss to their plushy cheek.

“My family …” Gaara admires the two of you as you bring your child into your arms and hold them there. 

You blush. My family.

You turn back to your child, who is putting more flowers in your hair, and laugh. “Isn’t that enough?”

“No!” they say. 

On and on, until your hair is overwhelmed with flowers.

You smile, take one out, and — and drop it.

The flower falls to the ground, overridden with poison.

“What …?” You turn back to your child.

“Mommy …?” they say. Their mouth falls open, and a river of black poison pours out.

“No!” You gasp. “Gaara —!”

The skies over the village are blood red, the buildings and structures reduced to blackened ruins. Gaara coughs and spits blood into your face.

“How could you?” he says. “How could you —!” 

You flinched away. The cold floor lay under your palm. A few seconds and you sank into the tar of reality: it was a dream. A nightmare.

One of many — and each one you had upon falling into sleep had been more horrific than the last. You dreamed of Hideo, too; in one he shook you by your shoulders, shook sense into you, imploring you to live and fight to live, fight to stay alive, to love. In another he waited in the old gardens the two of you had once leisured in, telling you he couldn’t wait for you to join him. Give up. Succumb. 

The Hideo in your mind was a two-faced demon, and you had long since lost confidence in which to listen to.

You propped yourself up. Your cot was by the side of you, yet you’d woken up on the floor. At some point during your sleep, you must’ve tumbled off of it, too cold and numb to notice and be thrown from sleep. 

You didn’t know how long it had been; your only indication of time passing had been the food offered to you at regular intervals. Second only to the medical nin who had once come to collect your urine, ostensibly to confirm the legitimacy of your pregnancy — and had never returned. You were often sick, and as much as this strengthened your hope of pregnancy, you were frail, barely alive, but clinging to life. 

You took note of your surroundings. It wasn’t horribly uncomfortable, the cell you had been sequestered in. But you knew any and all comforts you enjoyed here were simply because Gaara was nowhere heartless enough to risk you losing a child — if you had one. He would never have you killed despite how much you craved death. 

The sun had blown out, and all the light in the world was gone.

You looked down at the broken necklace on the floor. Kankuro had broken it in half, and you had broken it further, desperate to find just a drop left. Dead in seconds. If true, you would be able to put an end to all of this. Just a drop … But there had been nothing. 

The one time I want to use it and there’s nothing. Nothing for me. The irony.

And then there was the second piece of jewelry bestowed upon you: your mother’s ring, snug and secure around your finger. It seemed a mockery to you now. A fatuous representation of your childish dreams. What a fool I was — am.

Situating yourself on the bed against the wall, you caressed your stomach, mindlessly cooing to what you hoped was a filling womb.

“I’m sorry …” You whispered. “I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough …”

You hugged your knees to your chest. What was happening now? Did Father know where you were? What was happening? Why had no one come?

The quiet blared loud in your ears. You rested your cheek on your knees, turned to face the wall. Your sleep had been short-lived, cut short by the poignancy of nightmares. You closed your eyes.

If you could just rest a bit longer, something would happen. You could sleep until the world ended. You could …

You could …

A great, metallic churn.

You awoke. You faced the door with furrowed brows. Another churn. Someone was opening it.

You sat up. It was probably your feeding time, but it would be something. Anything to disturb the monotony of this nightmare.

The door cracked open — flew open. A feminine groan. Someone crossed the threshold.

You looked up, leaned forward with a frown to discern.

“… Matsuri?”

Matsuri turned to you before letting out a relieved sigh. “Oh, thank goodness, you’re okay! Come on, (Y/n).” She blinked. “Is it all right if I call you that?”

“What do you mean?” Your voice was rasped from lack of use as Matsuri strode toward your bed. “What’s going on?”

Matsuri hastened you to your feet. “We have to move quickly; Lady Temari sent me. Come now —“

“Wait a minute!” You cried, taking Matsuri by the shoulders. “What’s happening?” A chill down your spine. Father. “Where’s Gaara?”

“Listen to me,” Matsuri said. “We don’t have much time.” She retrieved something from her pouch. A pill. “Take this. It’ll give you some strength.”

“But —“

“Take it. Please.”

You accepted it with a weak nod. You slipped it between your chapped lips and swallowed it. 

“There’s been a battle and we’re losing,” Matsuri said as the pill worked down your throat. “We have to get you out of the village and leave immediately —“

“Where’s Gaara?”

Matsuri let out a stressed breath through her nose. “He’s been poisoned by your father.”

Horror froze you. 

“Nothing at the Sunagakure greenhouse contains antibiotics strong enough to cure him.” Matsuri went on. “That Red Spine of yours really did a number on him. We can only keep it at bay, but he will die if we don’t hurry!”

Matsuri tugged you, and you went with her through the door to the dingy prison hall. The pill returned to you an iota of your previous strength, and while Matsuri did most of the heavy lifting, shouldering your weight, you were able to pick up the slack and scuttle along with her.

“What about Temari and Kankuro?” You asked hastily. “Are they okay?”

“Lord Kankuro’s stayed behind to fight off Boutoku’s forces, but we’re being overwhelmed,” Matsuri said, leading you down another hallway bereft of people. “Your father’s united some of the smaller villages into a full scale attack on us. He’s promised them all a part of the oasis if they can help him claim Suna.”

Your legs weren’t carrying you fast enough, dragging you behind Matsuri. “But, Temari,” You said desperately. “What about Temari?”

“You’ll see.”

Sand dragged past your feet as the two of you ran through the empty place. You flinched at the sound above — explosions.

“Come on!” Matsuri took your hand. “It’s okay.”

She led you to the entrance. She threw the doors open to lead you out of the prison.

And into hell.

Sunagakure burned. Fire blazed with the windstorm as people ran to and fro, blurring in your vision. Screams mingled with whistles in the air as Matsuri tugged you into the decrepit streets, buildings burned black and fed the fires fiercer. 

The sounds of knives clanged as shinobi fought adjacent to the two of you. You recognized an oasis emblem atop one’s headband as they clashed with a Sand shinobi. Matsuri tugged you close to avoid flying debris. She led you past a bridge — 

A giant crack. You looked up to see the bridge overhead collapsing —

“Look out!”

Matsuri pushed you out of the way, and you tumbled. Matsuri ducked and rolled out of the way as the bridge collapsed onto the street. Your ankle burned — you cried out as fire caught the hem of your pants. You poured and patted sand on it to put yourself out before turning back to Matsuri, just in time to see her coming toward you.

“C’mon.” Matsuri brought you to your feet, and the two of you kept moving.

The scenes overwhelmed you in their horror. You tried to block them out, running to keep up with Matsuri. She led you down an alley.

“Where are we going?” You sobbed.

“There’s a cavern we keep for emergencies to ensure the safety of the Kazekage.” Matsuri hastened you through the underground of the village.

The two of you were freed from the horrors of above, but the silence was both relieving and even worse than the screams ringing in your ears. Matsuri lead you down farther until a space opened up, and you saw:

Temari, holding an unconscious Gaara in her lap. Temari’s sobs mingled with yours.

“Oh, gods,” You said, coming forward.

The cavern was dark save for the cracks letting in light from above, the color of flames.

Temari looked up at you; her clothes were tattered, her ponytails ragged and messy. She glared up at you and you froze, choosing not to come any closer. 

What have I done …

“Kankuro once told me …” Temari began, voice watery. “He once told me your so-called oasis can heal people.” Temari straightened. “Well, here’s your chance to prove yourself. If you really love my brother, take us there. Save him.”

The cavern gave way to secret tunnels, leading past the main gates of Sunagakure. You begged Temari to listen about how your father must have done something to you, but she said they would address it on the way.

Temari lugged Gaara over her shoulder all by herself, shirking your weak offers of help, before passing him to Matsuri. She gripped her fan strapped to her back and opened it three times bigger than it was when folded, and before you knew it, the four of you were in the air. 

You flew over burning streets in the Sand, eerily resonant of one of your nightmares. Ninja the size of ants did battle as citizens were shuffled away to whatever safety was left for them.

Am I still dreaming? You wondered as a building collapsed under the weight of its fire.

“Wait — what about Kankuro?” You asked. “And Baki?”

“Baki trained us all. I have faith in him. As for …” Temari’s expression grew pained. “There’s nothing we can do; he’s going to hold down the fort until we come back.” She eyed Gaara. “I can’t lose two brothers …”

It was long before the smoke lessened and stopped burning through your nose and down your throat. It was long before the horrible silence was broken but only by Gaara’s wracked breathing. Temari turned to you, eyeing you with harsh appraisal, making you crumble.

“Come here.”

Temari examined you. She performed — what were they called? — hand signs, the speed of the motions blurring her fingers. 

“Release!” she said.

You felt a tightness loosen around you, like a series of ropes had loosened around your middle. You let out a relieved breath. 

“Whatever you were trying to say before,” Temari said. “Say it now.”

You nodded, your eyes flickering from her to Gaara. And … you told her everything. The poison and the plan, your father’s letters and Chuuyou’s betrayal, how you had gone back and forth in trying to tell them the truth, doing the best you could to wait it out until you understood your father’s intentions — until it was too late. 

All the while, Matsuri continued administering some sort of pseudo antidote to Gaara, keeping him stable by dripping it into his mouth.

“We’re running out,” Matsuri said as Gaara rasped and twitched. “We need to find this oasis now.”

“I’m going as fast as I can,” Temari said. “Gaara’s strong; he’ll make it …”

“Let me do that,” You begged Matsuri. “Please.”

Matsuri smiled weakly and gave you the drip. You shifted Gaara’s head in your lap and searched his face. He was even paler than usual. Blots of purple etched his face. His eyes opened and closed, as though he were trying to achieve consciousness, only to be dragged under each time. Look what my father’s done to him …

“What I don’t understand,” Temari began, furrowed gaze straight ahead, “is how Gaara couldn’t have noticed …”

“I told him I was just nervous about things that have happened,” You said while administering the drip. “He told me about the anti-Kazekage groups causing him trouble and I made it seem like that was what was bothering me.” 

“He trusted you, you mean?” Temari’s hands clenched into fists. “He didn’t think you would lie to him?”

You bowed your head in shame. You worried your soot-covered hands again and again. “Temari, how long was I gone? Just what in the hell happened?”

Temari glared out into the desert. The rolling sand dunes were contradictorily peaceful in comparison to the capital from which you had all come. The sun was dropping fast, leaving the heavens a deep plum. You knew there was a part of Temari still refusing to believe your story; she could not have been swindled for so long. You came beside her, yet she refused to look at you. 

Just as you were about to beg her to speak, she did: “Right after they took you, Gaara said he wanted to speak with your father,” Temari released a frustrated sigh. “He wanted to try to end things as peacefully as possible. Neither of us cared about that, of course, but he insisted. So, a day later, we went to him together. With backup. Kankuro’s men and about a hundred of our own were there just in case Boutoku tried anything. Boutoku said he had no idea about any assassination plan and said he wanted to shake Gaara’s hand. Of course he didn’t. Boutoku blew a gasket. Called him a spoiled, disrespectful brat not worthy of the title of Kazekage. There was chaos after that, and when Gaara tried to calm everyone down, Boutoku struck Gaara with poison hidden under his sleeve. Things just derailed from there.”

“Gods, Father, you didn’t …” You placed your hand over Gaara’s forehead. Feverishly hot. Desert heat, you lied to yourself. “Gaara …” I’m so sorry.

“He killed Joseki and most of Suna’s council as well,” Temari added. 

“What?” You said.

“I don’t know about Ikanago, though,” Temari said sardonically. “That fucking broken hip might’ve just saved her life.”

“How many days has it been?” You asked.

“Two.” 

Your stomach dropped. Two days? Just two days? Your imprisonment had been an eternity — but, you realized, so much of it had been spent jostled between reality and dreams, miserable and expecting death.

“Give or take a few hours,” Temari continued. “But who’s counting?”

“Boutoku’s risen an opposition made up anti-Kazekage groups to take on the village along with villages he’d made pacts with,” Matsuri said.

You processed this: it took him longer coming to Suna than it had taken you. And those long stretches of time where he occupied the palace, where no one knew what he was doing, ostensibly taking breakfast in bed … He would have been watched though, surely? Unless Gaara wouldn’t allow it. A show of trust usurping strategy.

Oh, Gaara …

“Just how positive are you that this oasis even has powers?” Temari asked brusquely. 

You wiped sweat from Gaara’s forehead. “Not totally.”

“For your sake, I hope it is.” Temari swept her hand and her fan served in a new direction. She swung back at you. “Was it all fake? All of it?”

You faced her. “None of it. I swear.” No matter what, you felt sure and true about this. “I fell in love with Gaara — with everyone. That’s why I couldn’t do it. I tried to tell him myself … I just couldn’t.”

“The jutsu placed on you kept you tongue tied,” Matsuri said soothingly. “He must’ve had it done before you came here, probably when you were asleep. You couldn’t have known.”

“I still could’ve said something,” You said. But what? You remembered trying to say your father had done something to you, but you had failed in that as well. Father had covered all of his bases should you fail him. “I was so afraid and overwhelmed with everything that had happened — I didn’t think you’d believe me if I couldn’t tell you everything.”

“Yeah?” Temari had not been thawed by your guilt. “And what about this so-called pregnancy of yours?”

You looked up. “What do you mean? You … We still don’t know?”

“We were never able to confirm it,” Temari said. “Coups have a tendency to be distracting, if you can believe that.”

The wind whistled in your ears. Gaara groaned, sinking his head deeper into your lap. 

“I really do believe it, Temari,” You said. “I think I’m pregnant. And I want to fight for my family.”

Temari tensed.

“My real family.”

Temari swerved her fan again, the sand underneath picking up at the gust. She sighed. “Whatever. I don’t care how you chose to view things. Just … do your part.”

You nodded, recognizing that as good as you were going to get. 

“I’m so sorry about Chuuyou,” You said to Matsuri. “He made a clone of you. This whole time, he was framing you.”

Matsuri smiled sardonically. “He must’ve disguised himself as me — a ninja trick,” she added as you tilted your head at her, confused. “To everyone else, he would’ve looked just like me.”

“Wouldn’t that incriminate you, too?” Temari said. “How was he so sure it would just be Gaara who would look bad?”

“I think he took the risk,” You said. “With him fainting at the party and all, that would just be another incident. And it would make Gaara appear incompetent as a leader.”

“And incendiate the anti-Kazekage leagues,” Matsuri said. She caressed your shoulder. “Oh, (Y/n), it’s okay.” She looked down at Gaara. “I … was sad to find out Gaara had to marry. I’ve … had feelings for him for a long time, but I was prepared to do whatever was good for him. I never would have betrayed the sand, especially not Gaara.”

You smiled at her.

“And now I’m willing to do whatever it takes to help his fiancée,” Matsuri continued. “This is your mission now.”

My mission. You covered her hand with yours. She’s right. Even if the oasis can’t heal him, I have to somehow. I can’t let it all come crashing down because of Father.

Gaara winced in his sleep before he was wracked with coughs. A blink and you were there parting his lips and administering the “antidote” to him. 

“We have to hurry,” Matsuri said, determined. 

“I know,” Temari hissed and whipped her hand for more speed.

The four of you flew on. It had taken you only a full day to go from the Oasis to the sand, but how quickly would you get there via Temari’s fan? Matsuri fed you another food pill so you could continue caring for the one who truly needed the attention. Gaara’s condition fluctuated: dangerously hot to alarmingly cold, and you didn’t know whether that was a good thing or not. You removed his trench coat to keep him cooler, but you had to watch the squeeze bottle deplete, warning you of the little time you had left.

“Lord Kazekage is strong,” Matsuri said. “This isn’t the first time his life has been threatened in such a way.”

And to pass the time she began to tell you about his run in one the organization called the Akatsuki, his kidnap, his technical death and Chiyo’s sacrifice. By the end of it, you felt nearly as sick as him. Oh, Gaara …

The sun sank into the horizon, leaving the sky bruise-blue. Night encroached, and the lack of sun agitated you. Matsuri supplied a light from her pocket so you could always monitor Gaara’s face.

“I see it!” Temari said.

You sprouted up. Unmistakable: the slight hint of buildings hazed by the billowing sand. 

Sandcastles. 

You were almost home. 

A sand dune burst below you —

“Look out!” Matsuri cried.

Temari swerved in time. She aimed for another dune and landed behind it for shelter. You and Temari peaked over its uppermost curve.

Shinobi emerged from the sand, weapons at the ready and charging right for the four of you. 

“Fuck!” Temari hissed.

“We’re being attacked.” Matsuri helped you in dragging Gaara from the fan.

“Hide! Both of you!” Temari said with gritted teeth, frantically hand-waving the two of you away. “I’ll take care of this!”

“What if you need help?” Matsuri asked.

“You kidding?” Temari turned back with a smirk. “I’ve been wanting an opportunity to smack the crap out of something.”

And it can’t be me, at least not anymore. 

“Or kill. Whatever comes first. Just get both of them away from here!” Temari collected her fan and abandoned the safety of the dune’s hump. She stormed into the desert. You looked over the hill of it to see the shinobi closing in — Oasis shinobi, waiting for her.

“Who dares attempt to invade the Oasis village?” one of them roared.

“We have Lord Boutoku’s daughter with us, you idiots!” Temari barked. “Let us pass!”

“Lady (Y/n) is no longer welcome beyond our walls,” another shouted. 

“Lady (Y/n) —?”

You gasped, spun around, clutching Gaara’s lifeless body closer to you. 

Someone was poking out from another sand dune, and for a second you saw Chuuyou hiding there — with his face mask covering all but his eyes, his soft tones hiding his traitorous ambitions — only for you to realize this was someone new.

“Get behind me!” Matsuri charged in front of you to act as a shield and brandished a knife.

“Lady (Y/n)!” A man rose from the dune, sand slipping off of him. His garb was similar to Chuuyou’s, but this man was much younger. “Surely, my eyes deceive me!” 

“You know this guy?” Matsuri shot a look over her shoulder at you.

“I don’t know …” You clung to Gaara. “No.”

“Listen to me, please, Lady (Y/n),” the man said. “You cannot make it that way; the village is completely forbidden to you now! I can get you through to the other side, but you must trust me!” 

“But …” You looked past the dune behind you to Temari.

She engaged in combat with the other ninja, defending and dodging and dishing blows. A trio of kunai flew her way to impale her, but she jumped away in the nick of time and to allow herself space from her assailants. 

“Don’t fuck with me!” Temari spread her fan open and swung — 

A windstorm spilled from her fan, blowing sand away from nearby dunes. Men were blown back in the sudden cyclone, crying out, some grasping on to anything to avoid being propelled into the air. 

“More will come, Lady (Y/n), once they know you are here!” the man said. “Please, there isn’t much time!”

“This could be a trick, (Y/n),” Matsuri advised. 

You were caught between two worlds. But he’s not wrong; Temari can’t fight them all.

The man genuflected, knees bent, hand on his chest. “I swear on my soul and the spirit of the oasis. I am a friend.” 

Gaara shook with another series of coughs at your side, reminding you of the empty drip in your pocket. 

Doubt consumed you. If I’m wrong, Temari will probably struggle to be able to fight him at close range. But we can’t stay out in the open either. 

“We don’t have a choice,” You murmured to Matsuri, who was still guarding you without moving an inch. You peaked over the dune. “Temari, c’mon!” You shouted over the wind.

She glanced over her shoulder at you before looking back at the ninja that’d been blown away. She jumped, phasing out, before landing right beside you. She glared at the man adjacent to you and Matsuri. 

You readjusted Gaara on your shoulder. “We’re going with him.”

Temari eyed you crookedly. 

“I’m sure,” You affirmed, and, realizing your place, added, “This isn’t a trick. He claims to be a friend and — and we can’t stay out here.”

Temari’s glare did not wane, but she seemed to be considering that fact as much as you were. She sighed before clipping her fan shut. 

“I really hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I believed the desert to be playing tricks on me, with its many mirages … But you’re really here, aren’t you?”

The shinobi — who called himself Kota — stopped walking to marvel at you. He had led the four of you down a set of cavernous tunnels. You and Temari carried Gaara, one arm over either of your shoulders. And Temari’s superior, deceptive strength was such that Gaara’s feet barely ever touched the ground.

“Who are you?” You swung a question back at him. 

Kota resumed walking while the four of you brought up the rear. “I am a part of a small resistance, working to take back the Oasis from the hands of your father,” he explained. “When he abandoned the village for the Sand, we knew it was our chance.”

“And you’re the leader of this group?” You asked, following.

“Oh no, not me.” Kota chuckled, as though that were a ridiculous notion. “We follow the Lady Hahaoya.”

You furrowed your brows. That name … Why did it seem familiar?

Kota led the four of you to a room crowded by other shinobi. Maps with red-inked scribbles littered the walls and a wide, round table was at the room’s center, spotlighted by a harsh white light shining down on it.

“Kota!” one of them welcomed with arms wide. “You’ve come back! And —“ He paused upon seeing you and an unconscious Gaara. And with a disbelieving laugh: “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me …”

“Is that the Kazekage?”

“That’s Lady (Y/n)!”

“Lady (Y/n)? Really?”

The crowd opened up so you could see who stood at its center.

It was a woman. An older woman with elegant lines denoting her age. Her hair piled on top of her head in a messy, hastily clipped bun. She turned to you.

Your eyes rounded. Shock dropped your stomach. It couldn’t be …

She smiled at you. “Hello, little one.” 

You had forgotten her name, but how could you forget her voice? The same voice that had sung you to sleep so many nights … 

“Hahaoya?” You gaped. “It’s — it’s you?”

“Yes.” She came toward. “It is, in fact, me.” 

“You — you never told me you were a ninja!”

“What’s happening here?” Temari said, growing possessive of Gaara as Hahaoya came nearer. “Who is she?”

“She used to care for me,” You explained. “Before my father banished her.” 

“This group is run by your ex-nanny?”

“I’m sure you’re all very confused, but this is not the time for discussion about my previous work. We must aid the Kazekage.” Hahaoya said, inching toward Temari. When she relaxed, Hahaoya helped Gaara to the table. She sat him down, where he groaned painfully and she swung her head. “I need help over here!”

The others came to examine him, crowding him. Some left and returned brandishing water and cold towels. 

“He’s in bad shape,” Kota said overhead. “But he will not die here.”

“He’s been poisoned,” You told Hahaoya.

“By our desert plant, no doubt,” Hahaoya said with narrowed eyes. She patted Gaara with a cold, rolled towel, blotting away the clamminess accumulating over his skin. “Boutoku, you’ve become such a devil …”

“Hahaoya, I have to get him to the oasis so it can heal him,” You said imploringly. “Please, tell me there’s a way to get there.”

Hahaoya raised her head, her expression dire. “Boutoku’s locked it away from all of us. No one’s been able to access it.” She examined you. “But you are his flesh and blood; perhaps you can.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are Boutoku’s daughter,” Hahaoya said. “None of us are permitted through, but there is likely no such requirement for you. And I doubt your father instilled one.” There was a cold pause. “He likely did not think you would make it this far. But you have the blood of the first village head running through your veins. If anyone can get those gates to open, you can.”

Canyon gates rose high and wide around you. Water streamed from the gate to the ground and past your feet in narrow streams. A rarity.

Gaara was situated on a cot to keep him comfortable. The scowl previously permanent on his face was gone, and he lay peacefully there. You disliked the idea of him out here, victim to the elements, most of all the heat. But Temari and Matsuri flanked his sides, along with Hahaoya and Kota. 

You stood ahead of them, at the front of the gates. You raised your head to them. They were engraved with the emblem of the village at their center. Father infiltrated your memory. In happier times, he told you about the legacy of the oasis, its importance to the family line and village. How far he had fallen. 

Footsteps. You did not need to know Hahaoya now stood beside you. “This is as far as we can take you.” Even while delivering the most depressing news, there was a lull in her voice to remind you of the one that had carried you into dreams as a young girl. “I would be lying if I said I knew how it works.”

“Father wouldn’t ever share that information with anyone,” You murmured, eyes fixed on the gates embedded in the vast canyon. Except Hideo, maybe. Father’s precious son. His sun child. In another, perhaps better world, Hideo would be alive and would know full well what you didn’t. It was a strange, acidic irony that in no universe would Father ever tell you, dead son or no. 

“The others aligned with Boutoku will wonder where you all went soon enough,” Kota said softly. “They may suspect us of being here — you must find a way to open these gates yourself and quickly.”

“But I don’t …” You looked over your shoulder at Gaara’s frail form. Frustration bit at you. “I — I don’t know!” 

“Figure it out!” Temari hissed. “We don’t know how much time he has!”

“Feel for the truth inside of you, little one,” Hahaoya advised gently. She touched a ginger hand to your shoulder. “You can do it.”

You approached the gate. You placed your hands on the canyon walls. The jagged edges threatened to bite and scratch at your open palms as you moved your hands. And … A pull. An invisible rope wrapped around and tugging you at your gut. Physically, you jerked forward.

“I — I feel something …” You said.

“Good, little one. Very good!” Hahaoya urged.

You closed your eyes, and you ran hands over the rocky surface, searching for signs, fighting to align yourself with them.

Come on … Come  on  … Please —

Blood …!

You popped your eyes open with a gasp, flinching hands away.

“What is it?” Hahaoya asked.

“It — spoke to me,” You said. “It — it wants blood.” You overcame the shock and placed your hand on the rock again. You waited. Blood … The voice wasn’t unpleasant as it echoed throughout your mind. Blood … “It wants my blood,” You added.

“Proof of your lineage,” Hahaoya said. “Your bloodline. Do it, child!”

You turned, and she was there, handing you a knife.

“Use this kunai to cut yourself,” she said. “Don’t fear the pain, love. It is inconsequential when compared to the pain you may prevent.”

You took it gingerly; you had never purposely injured yourself before. You held the kunai’s tip over your palm with a trembling hand.

Your gaze flickered to Gaara, lifeless and poisoned. And needing you. What was one little cut to what he was enduring — had already endured?

You hardened yourself. Closing your eyes, you swept the kunai harshly over your palm. You winced. You opened your eyes, hoping the cut had dug deep enough, and saw red river into the numerous lines of your palm. 

 “Here.” You presented your hand. You bit into the edge of your tongue to fight against the horrible sting.

Silence. Nothing happened. Until the gates rumbled. A slot from the gate’s bottom slid aside, and from it crawled a scorpion. 

“Oh, of course —“ Temari started.

“Hush!” Kota ordered.

It crawled toward you, poisonous tail held high in the air. It halted at your feet, armored head bobbing expectantly. 

Instinct took over, and you knelt down to the creature, bestowing your hand. The scorpion bent its head to the blood pooling in your palm, inspecting, tasting — 

And the world shook. You stumbled, nearly falling over your bent knees.

“An earthquake?” Matsuri said, clutching the side of Gaara’s cot.

The rope came again to tug at your center, as though secure around the nexus of your soul. You felt oddly supported, stable as the ground thrashed and rumbled around you.

You looked down — and saw through your hands. Through them. Your legs, too, were fading, your thighs next —

“(Y/n)!” Temari cried.

“What’s happening —?” Matsuri cried.

You thought of all you could do. You stood on feet growing increasingly more transparent and went to Gaara. You slotted an invisible hand past Matsuri to grasp at his hand. 

Your torso faded, your chest. You felt light. You were light. Weightless and not at all of this world, with only Gaara’s hand to anchor you to it. And in a spiral of wind and clouds, both you and Gaara vanished from the group.

[yellowocaballero]

There are so many fics that explore Obito hating Kakashi for what he did to Rin... but you know what I haven't seen? Fics going "what if Obito hated Rin for what she did to Kakashi?" Like, [and here I proceeded to write out 200 words of a second-person POV introspective piece where Obito puts the blame on Rin instead of Kakashi, before deciding I really should just post that on its own]

anyway, what if the narrative wasn't "Rin is kind sweet super medic whose only flaw was that she died". What if the narrative took a look at Rin and said "hmm. If you assume she was in control during the Rincident, then what she did was Fucked Up."

That's a really interesting thing to point out and I like the agency it gives Rin in the story. I get why Obito blamed Kakashi, because from the outside it was clearly such a mess - he didn't have context for anything that happened at the moment, all he saw was Kakashi putting his fist through Rin's chest. Obito's an impulsive, emotional person, and I'm not surprised that he cast Rin absolutely as the victim. I think him blaming Kakashi and making Rin the angel fits in very well with his character and is the most interesting avenue for his relationship with both Kakashi and Rin. It was set up for the misunderstanding, Obito's the type to misunderstand, and Obito resenting Kakashi is what creates the interesting narrative choice - it's that mixture of hate and love that I tend to mark ObiKaka by. Agreed that I would enjoy seeing some explorations of Obito not carrying resentment towards Kakashi, though (but, like, ONLY if you use it to make their relationship new and interesting amounts of fucked up)

Gonna be real, reading the Wiki (I never read Kakashi Gaiden F) I was also...really confused as to why Rin used Kakashi to kill herself instead of just jumping in front of the enemy ninja's attack. I get that due to the seal she couldn't kill herself, but if she could jump in front of Kakashi's attack then surely she could jump in front of somebody else's? I was confused, hence Obito's comment. For the sake of my own 'let's write things so they make sense', I'd probably portray it as Rin being under a 'die in the next 5 seconds' sort of time pressure or otherwise limit her options. I'd like to portray it as it being a very fucked up situation where Rin had to make a very bad choice very quickly and she didn't have the time or the composure to make the choice that would traumatize the least amount of best friends. It's just sad.

This is a funny thing to mention in general considering what happens next chapter in Utopia btw lmfao.

[calcarinasea]

Yume 2kki- Sweet Medical Utopia

[pb-s-corner]

Welcome to today's Journey through Yume 2kki! And I found a place I didn't even know existed before!

I was not prepared for this room at all...

Friend, please, talk to me...

...Friend?

I also think you should be holding that, friend.

Woah....

I really don't want to end this entry here, But I the pic limit it's making it difficult, so I'll make another post, here it is. See ya guys!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 ENDING

PD, I think this is my second favorite section of all yume 2kki, first will always be Pure White Lands for it's raw emotion, but this one is very interesting story-wise...

It also looks as what I expect Margin Of The Strange to look, so that's always a nice thing.

[2kki-tourism]

Sweet Medical Utopia, Hospital Outlook, and Azure Overdose Zone. Created by Uwa

病みかわ世界、紅い太陽と日常、水色かぷせる。制作：Uwa

[ynfg-gifs]

Yume 2kki - Sweet Medical Utopia (Sniper-san's Room)

[baphometsss]

i was tagged by @mythalism :)

Last song: utopia by bjork

Favorite colour: baby beech leaf green and moss green

Last book: all about love by bell hooks

Last movie: some alfred hitchcock thing that was on tv yesterday i can't remember what it was though

Last TV show: medical detectives <3

Sweet/savoury/spicy: savoury but i do have a big sweet tooth. given the choice i'd go savoury tho

Relationship: foreveralone.jpeg

Last thing I googled: william gardiner peasenhall. i listened to a true crime thing about a murder that happened in 1902 in that town and i wanted to know more

Current obsession: well... solas. and my lavellan. solavellan ig. but i'm also taking a bit of a nosedive into final fantasy x. in terms of art i'm v into doing portraits and i'm kind of fascinated by the mouth and teeth in particular

Looking forward to: secret things... not much in terms of real life though. bluebell season will be here in a few months though :)

no pressure tags: @solasisms @kraujuota @inlovewetrust-555 @luzial :)

[walkingstackofbooks]

DS9 2x05 Melora thoughts (rewatching; spoilers for future episodes possibly included) Admittedly, I'm Not Looking Forward To This, iirc it's pretty cringe... welp let's go

Ughhhh the "she's extraordinary" type of ableism, not a good start... And just Julian being weirdly into her from a medical pov, are these the same writers who wrote Geordie being creepily into Leah without ever meeting her?I

t is very, very good that she's allowed to be angry about microagressions though. She's not particularly likeable but that's not a bad thing, and he's allowed to explain herself to Sisko and to us. Evenif not intentional, I think this is a good way to challenge viewers and make us sit in some discomfort if that makes sense?

I get where you're coming from, Melora, but surely you must understand that working as a team is something important for all Starfleet personnel to have to do?

Not a fan of Julian just going into her room, and I don't know how to feel about the way he's taking to her - it kind of feels intrusive but it is also genuinely friendly and also very normal, he is just treating her like anyone else (that he has a crush on) (he has a crush on everyone though right?)

I can't say I'm a fan of the romance subplot, but I think that's because it feels rushed - which is honestly any Star Trek romance with a one-off character. She clearly likes getting to know him too, I do not think he's taking advantage in any way?

I LOVE her "I can't eat this Julian" *proceeds to rant in Klingon*. She played him well, she knew exactly what she was doing. 👌👌 She'd get on well with Jadzia

Ooh, interesting to hear Julian's backstory pre-augment-reveal. It really does mesh.

("I heard the ball go past me and I realised I wasn't good enough to play tennis properly" ...or you realised you wouldn't be able to disguise how good you were?)

She's so graceful :3 It is sweet they both get to laugh at how clumsy Julian is, I actually really like this scene and the role-reversal. It's obvious, but nice?

Honestly the real villain of this is Cardassion architecture. But also sucks that Starfleet have been here a year and it's not accessible yet? Some future utopia...

I really hope that information was told before she started the treatment, seems pretty important to only be telling her now?! I'm guessing for dramatic effect?

Yeah, I'm okay with them getting together actually, it's less creepy than I remember. If it wasn't a quick-one-shot-romance I don't think there'd be anything wrong with Julian being her doctor - he's everyone's doctor on the station. It's just more noticeable because her plot centres so heavily around having medical needs and the romance is side-by-side the treatment.

I know it's 'cause they have to fit it in an episode, but Julian's far too prone to rushing into medical treatment too quickly when he's excited to try it out. I don't think he's pressuring her exactly, I just wish we saw more of the explanations because it feels like everything is far too quick. A decision like this shouldn't be made straight away!

Ohh, at least he's checking in - "If you're not certain..." "I am." *doubt* "Tell me exactly what you're feeling." And it seems like the gravity thing *was* discussed pre-treatment I guess.

Hmmmm this feels very "disabled people need to be fixed and can't have independence if they're not able-bodied" idk...

I'm fairly certain she doesn't die? But I will be PISSED if she does.

Oooh, I was worried she was going to save the day by forcing herself to her limits within gravity, or not be able to save them and be like "if only my legs worked like a high-gravity humanoid". But no, she changed the fight to be on her terms! Nice!

"Maybe independence isn't all it's cracked up to be. I kind of like how it feels to depend on someone for a change." This is actually such a good ending though??

So it was a bit bumpy at times, but not NEARLY as bad as I thought it would be. Honestly, I like them as a couple. Most of my complaints come from it being a lots-of-time-needed-plot being squished into one episode - can you imagine how good this could have been over a few episodes with a regular character, and romance only starting *after* the self-acceptance?