One kid spent the entirety of the review in Spanish on the floor, in the front of the room, curled in the fetal position, answering questions from the floor and complaining about the depressing number of mexicans in the room
Summary: She loves him, and hates herself for it. Requested post-canon dystopian Konoha. SasuSaku. Semi-tyrannical leader Sasuke.
Words: 12,601 A/N: It’s been just over a year now since I first posted the first part to this story. Almost 53 weeks later, here’s the final part of the trilogy. I went ahead and combined all three parts into this one post for easier reading, so you don’t need to bother tracking down the other sections. Hope you enjoy. Please like/reblog.
When she walks through the streets now, she doesn’t see
children playing or people laughing at the market. In fact, it’s rare that she
even witnesses someone smiling anymore.
Parents are too afraid to allow their children to venture
outside by themselves, even if it’s just to go to a neighbors. The amount of
villagers that have pulled their children out of school makes Sakura’s heart
break. The amount of children that have been pulled out of the Academy is
almost enough to warrant its closure.
Of course that will never happen. Even if it’s only for a
handful of children, he will force it to remain open. After
all, he needs all the young, impressionable ninja he can get his hands on in
order to warp and twist their minds under his command.
Protection is what he promises to people. Empty promises;
she knows that’s all they are.
Just last month one child killed another during regular
morning training session; they were only nine. Instead of receiving punishment
or suspension, the surviving child was rewarded with a certificate of
graduation. Sakura attended the child’s small funeral, standing on the far edge
as the family mourned. Her attendance was not only due to the sadness and her
anger from the situation, but in order to publicly defy him.
Her way of saying, ‘This isn’t right. I’ll never agree to
any of this.’
The poor children who remain enrolled are only there due to
their parent’s fear of the consequences that would befall them if they were to withdraw.
Nowadays, fear is what control the people. It’s what keeps
them from rioting.
Sometimes people are too afraid to even travel to the
hospital. That’s one of the many things that causes Sakura to cry at night.
Usually people seek her out at odd hours, when they finally risk venturing
outside to find help.
Sakura makes it a duty of hers to make as many house-calls
as she can. Sometimes she wonders if he knows that she’s working behind his
back and without his approval and as soon as the thought enters her mind, she
dismisses it. She doesn’t care what he does or doesn’t know about what she does
She hasn’t feared death in a long time, and every now and
then she thinks she’d prefer it. But she figures that if he wanted to kill her,
he would’ve done so by now.
On rare occasions when he leaves the village to travel, she
emerges and tries to see as many people as possible. Despite their loyalty
toward Sasuke, the ANBU always let her pass through their security in the
torture and interrogation unit. She spends a good amount of time down there in
their cellars to see Kakashi.
Some days, in between greedy gulps of the water she brings
him, he’ll admit to her that he wishes Sasuke would just get it over with and
kill him. He’s withered away. Malnourished, weak, and broken. The sight makes
Sakura want to simultaneously scream and cry, but she knows she can’t afford
the moment of weakness.
Sakura thinks that Kakashi is still alive not due to some
sort of shred of humanity on Sasuke’s part, but due to the fact that he
represents the hope of the past.
If Kakashi is alive then the people of the village still
have some sort of hope to cling onto.
That’s really the only thing that keeps the villagers going,
and Sakura knows that Sasuke uses that to his advantage. Despite his aversion
to the past and every part of it, Sasuke will do what he must to keep everyone
under his control.
Sakura uses Sasuke’s absences to visit her remaining
friends. She visits Ino in the hospital, bringing her flowers and setting them
up at her bedside.
Ino had only lasted five months working in the torture and
interrogation unit under Sasuke’s regime before she—to put it simply—broke.
Sakura finds herself wondering if Ino even knows who she is anymore; her friend
functions but no longer lives.
Sakura mourns as if Ino has really died, just like Naruto did.
Nightmares still plague her from the war as she watches
strangers and friends alike die around her. She still sees Neji die, she still
sees the body of Tsunade lying cold on the ground, she still sees her
friends—heartbroken and furious—trying to kill Sasuke, but all failing.
When she feels like mourning the loss of most of her
friends, she’ll seek out Hinata and Lee—she doesn’t seek out Shikamaru any
longer, and sometimes she wonders if he hates her as much as she hates herself.
They won’t do much or even say anything to one another.
They’ll pass a bottle of sake around and writhe silently in pain until the
alcohol clouds their mind enough that they’ll fall into an uneventful,
Lee who doesn’t talk about youth anymore and who forces smiles
in order to try and lighten his friends’ pain; it never works but Sakura has
learned to appreciate the gesture.
Hinata, who is paralyzed from the waist down, pierced by
Sasuke’s blade only mere days after the end of the war. Hinata, who lost hers
and Naruto’s child just hours after finding out of her pregnancy. Hinata, who
doesn’t speak much anymore, her heart broken beyond repair.
Sakura remembers the attack with vivid clarity. She
remembers watching as Sasuke ruthlessly murdered Shino first and Tenten next,
as they stood in between himself and Hinata. She remembers watching from the
window in confusion and horror as his blade sliced through them effortlessly,
cutting them down just outside the hospital doors.
She doesn’t remember running toward Sasuke when he pierced
Hinata’s belly, but she remembers screaming and throwing punches and god,
she’ll never forget the look on Hinata’s face from where she lay in the dirt, a
silent scream that would never escape caught in her throat as her open mouth
gasped for air.
She remembers being held up by her throat, her eyes blind
with tears, her fingernails digging into his wrists, his blood covering her
fingertips as he glared at her with his mismatched eyes. She remembers swinging
her legs, trying hard to kick him, before he slammed her against the hospital
wall, cracking the concrete and pressing his body up against hers.
She remembers watching her blood drip down her nose and
chin, staining his forearm. She remembers watching it closely, focusing intently
and trying to fight the blackness from taking over.
“You’re not even worth killing,” he’d declared, allowing his
chidori to dissipate as he threw her to the ground.
She remembers screaming at him from where she laid on the
ground, delirious and nauseous and in so many different types of pain she could
hardly stand it.
“I hate you! I hate you so much! Fuck you!! I
fucking hate you!”
She remembers screaming until he disappeared from her sight,
screaming until her throat was raw, screaming even as witnesses tried to help
her off the ground and drag her back into the hospital.
Sometimes Sakura wonders what things would be like if she’d
known of Hinata and Naruto’s secret relationship, or if she’d known about the
pregnancy before Sasuke had.
She’ll spend days at a time imagining scenarios in which she
helps Hinata escape the village and live secretly, away from Sasuke’s heinous
establishment. But she knows that sooner or later, no matter how much she
wonders and dreams, Sasuke would’ve found them, and Naruto’s child would’ve
ended up dead one way or another.
His name is hardly even spoken anymore. People are too
afraid to mention him in fear of being overheard. They don’t know what the
punishment would be, but no one is willing to be the first to find out.
She’s approached one night, almost a year after the war, by
Shikamaru. It’s hot outside—the remnants of summer still lingering—and she’s
stirred out of a deep sleep by his gentle, quiet prodding.
She sits in bed, disoriented by the sight of him and a few
strangers in her room. She listens, stunned as he quickly, and with as few
words as possible, explains the rebel group that’s started an underground
movement in Konoha and Suna’s slums.
When he demands her to accompany him he waits an entire five
seconds, studying her confused, shocked, conflicted expression,
before eventually nodding, a quiet “I see then” rolling off his tongue, before
he and the strangers are gone from her room.
She doesn’t ever see him again and she finds herself
wondering whether he’s still alive or not. He may have hated her at the end of
everything, but she still cared for her friends. Through both hate and death,
she loved them more than anything.
A story centered around the lives of Gaster, Sans, and Papyrus from beginning to end. Themes will be both happy and tragic.
The closer the two brothers got to Greater Dog’s station, the louder things became. Papyrus looked down at his brother, the sounds of yelping and scuffling growing stronger by the minute. Quickly he reached down, scooping Sans under one of his arms before sprinting along the pathway to where all the noise was coming from.
As they broke through the line of trees Papyrus slid to a halt just in time to watch a vine wrap around the little dog outside its armor before whipping it over the ledge to their doom. The yelping echoed upward, piercing the ears of everyone nearby as the poor dog plummeted to its death.
This time it’s total improvisation, so basically how I do all of my illustrations. I test out things, I don’t plan on anything, I just go with the flow.. so sometimes I screw up. It’s the video that shows why my art style is messy and imperfect. But I wouldn’t want it any other way!
If you are only interested in one specific step, you can skip parts: Sketching (00:00 - 02:37), Lining (02:37 - 13:30), Painting (13:30 - 26:53)
Hi all! A big thank you to everyone who participated in the first week of book club by reading and reblogging stories, reaching out to authors, and submitting reviews and comments. Let’s keep it up for next week! The first week’s reading list can be found here.
There were 53 stories submitted for Day 2 of the final round of Prompts in Panem. This was the highest number of stories submitted for any day of PiP during any of its eight rounds. With that in mind, we’ll be splitting up Day 2 into two weeks of reading, tackling half of each day’s stories each week.
Starting this Sunday, November 1 through Saturday, November 7, check out as many of these stories as you’d like. As always, don’t feel like this is a race or that you need to read a story that isn’t in your wheelhouse content- or rating-wise. Read within your comfort zone.
Then send messages here, post, comment, reblog, etc. chatting about what you liked about the stories you’ve read. What was effective (and affecting), etc. What narrative techniques resonated with you. What an author’s strengths were in the story. What you’d love to see next from the story, and so on. Message others about it, too. Just get a dialogue going. And use the tag everlarkbookclub.
But keep it positive, for the love of all that is Everlark.
The only thing I ask of participation, aside from keeping it positive, is that you message at least two authors by the end of each week or post at least two positive reviews or comments somewhere (ex. AO3 of FF, as the case might be). That’s it. Pay a little respect and show a little appreciation- as much as you can- for folks who wrote these amazing stories.
And feel free to send asks here about the stories- on anon or using your name. I’ll post all positive messages without comment, unless you specifically ask me to chime in. Then others are free to reblog, reply, etc, and add to the conversation.
I know PiP’s page can get glitchy for folks on mobile, so hopefully this reading list with links helps.