Laura Lee sketch yj posting etc etc

Penny’s Procreation Protocol

Another Patreon Reward! Don’t worry, these will be slowing down now, since I realized I made a massive whoopsie: I was posting August Rewards in August. When I hadn’t gotten the August pay yet. (Facepalm). So, next month will be more relaxed since the rewards for September won’t be posted until early October! Anyway, this one involves Penny getting some ‘upgrades’ and Yang and Nora taking advantage. Hope you enjoy!

Penny Polendina was a perfectly normal girl (hic!), thank you very much! Especially after her father had approved of her new bodily upgrades and they were installed into her body! She was now the proud owner of a fully functional penis (complete with testicles!), vagina, womb, and ovaries, and much larger breasts that came with the ability to lactate! Even better, pleasure circuits had been installed, allowing her to feel tactile sensation when they were touched!

Her father had dubbed it the ‘Procreation Protocol’. And it was to allow her to get closer to people without worry of them thinking her odd, even if perfectly normal girls (hic!) tended to only have a vagina, there were more than enough that had penises as well!

However, that didn’t mean that there weren’t...kinks. Ones that Penny, in all of her innocence and naivete, didn’t know about or understand...yet.

Her first inclination that something was amiss was when she needed to get dressed for class.

As she pulled her green silk panties up, the ginger-haired girl squeaked as her balls trembled as the silk rubbed over them, making the skin tighten, bolts of pleasure making her stop, quivering in place as the sudden intense sensation filled her body, red filling her cheeks as the conduits turned on and low heat suffused into them. Diagnostic information scrolled down her visual field.

Pleasure Circuits Heightened. Recommend Care When Moving. Penny blinked, but carefully pulled her panties up fully, shivering as the silk teased her body (thankfully, her vagina was completely covered and hidden away by her testicles).

However, Penny found the same issue happened with her bra. The circuits that acted like nerve endings in her new breasts lit up like fireworks on a night sky as she tried pulling her bra over them, her nipples swelling outwards in seconds and small beads of white fluid beginning to weep from the pink tops. Penny flushed as pleasure continued to build within her, her penis twitching and growing a bit in her underwear.

Further attempts only made her cock get harder and harder, and eventually, Penny had to toss her now ill fitting bra away with burning cheeks, residing to get Friend Ruby and ask for her help underwear shopping later.

Thankfully, her uniform top still fit her new dimensions, even if it was a bit strained and small spots were forming from her leaking milk...which were thankfully hidden by her uniform jacket, even if the resulting tightness only made her internal diagnostics blare more warnings at her!

Warning! Pleasure Circuits At 25%! Advisory Actions: Removal Of Pressure On Affected Areas!

Penny ignored the diagnostic readout, knowing that was no excuse for missing class, and perfectly normal girls like her (hic!) couldn’t miss classes over such a simple thing as ill fitting clothing items!

Taking some careful steps, Penny made her way out of her room and towards her first class of the day: Grimm Studies with Professor Port.

~

Penny shifted uncomfortably, pressing her legs together in a vain attempt to keep her cock from growing any harder. Warnings were going off one after another on her visual heads-up display, but she was ignoring them and attempting to focus on the class...despite the fact that she knew the actual material already, having it downloaded into her brain. So, she was certain that the next few hours were going to be very boring…

Oh, how little Penny knew…

~

Penny blinked rapidly, shifting and accidentally hitting her breasts against the edge of the desk, sending a flare of warning across her HUD and making her optics cross, barely noticing the two forms sliding into the seats on either side of her and boxing her in.

As the pleasure faded, she glanced to see that both Friend Ruby’s older sister Yang was sitting on one side of her, while Friend Nora was on her other side, both of them smiling widely and leaning towards her. She failed to notice the wicked intent of the returning smiles of her friends.

Shaking a bit, Penny plastered a smile on her face. “H-Hello, Friends!” H-How a-are y-you do-doing t-today?” she forced out through a stutter, hoping that they didn’t notice anything odd.

“We’re doing wonderfully, Penny~” Yang said, leaning towards her and placing her hand on Penny’s knee, Nora following and touching her fellow ginger-haired girl’s other knee. Both stroked her synthetic skin with their thumbs. “Yeah, things are great~” Nora purred.

“We couldn’t help but notice something interesting~!” Penny was unable to stop the pair as they pulled her legs open and apart. Her cheek servos flooded with heat and the small red LED’s turned on again as her skirt tented, her cock popping halfway out of her panties, though she was thankfully still covered.

“That you suddenly have a nice, yummy cock~” Nora purred out, her hand sliding up Penny’s thigh, along with Yang’s on the other side, slipping underneath Penny’s plaid skirt and snagging the elastic of her panties and beginning to tug on them, pulling them down.

Penny’s mind whirled, wondering why her two friends were doing this, while trying to press her rear end more firmly onto the chair so her panties wouldn’t move. She couldn’t afford to be disrobed by anyone! Perfectly normal girls (hic!) wouldn’t allow their panties to be removed in class, even if the ones removing them were their friends!

Penny’s eyes widened as twin hands moved up and slapped her covered breasts, sending her pleasure circuits into overdrive, making her go completely still, bright green eyes wide and mouth clenched shut to avoid making noise...although a squeak eeped out, unbidden, the wet spots on her chest spreading outwards.

“Someone’s sensitive~” Nora giggled as she and Yang tugged, the silken panties she wore sliding down her thighs and catching on Penny’s knees, but the pair edged them over and shoved them down the ginger-haired android’s legs, leaving her bare beneath the shirt...which popped up as her erect penis sprung free from its bindings, bobbing and twitching in the air of the room.

Penny opened her mouth, only to freeze as their hands suddenly moved, cupping her new genitalia and stroking it gently, Nora’s hand wrapping around her penis, and Yang’s hand cupping her balls and stroking and rolling them in her hand.

Warning alarms blared in her head as her internal diagnostics went haywire, her body shuddering at the massive influx of pleasure shooting through her circuits.

She heard her friends whispering, but it was hard to stay focused as she received warning after warning that she was about to ejaculate...only for them to suddenly stop. She couldn’t stop the whine this time, making both of her friends smirk at Penny. “Come on, Pen-Pen, let’s ditch~” Nora cooed.

~

“Hah...hah...ah…” Penny panted as she stood naked under the spray of the shower, Yang and Nora next to her, squished together. Yang was pressed flush behind her, her hands cupping and squeezing and toying with Penny’s breasts, watching her milk squirt out, while Nora was crouching in front of her, happily fondling her cock, balls, and occasionally slipping behind the plump pouch and rubbing her pussy.

Penny was paralyzed by the immense pleasure that her friends gave her by only teasing her with her hands, giving her great pleasure that she had never felt before...but never letting her cum. They always stopped before she orgasmed.

“Oooh~” Nora giggled, watching Penny’s thick shaft twitch and quiver, slinging strings of precum across the wall, floor, and her shoulder and arms. It smelled heady, and she licked her lips, leaning forwards to take a taste…

Crack! Nora squealed as Yang’s hand lashed out and slapped one of her tits, causing it to smack against her other one, making her shake from the unexpected pleasure before she pouted up at a scowling Yang, red faced and panting. The blonde shook her head making the plump ginger-haired girl pout harder.

Yang pressed her cock (bigger than Penny’s, but with less girth) against Penny’s rear. “You know something, Penny?” she hummed as she toyed with the young woman’s leaking tits (she was still miffed that she now had the smallest pair between the three of them!), plucking and pulling at the androids nipples, loving the myriad of emotions that flowed over her face. “Nora and I found ourselves in something of a rut recently~ And you fit the bill to fix that~”

Nora giggled, picking up where Yang left off, “After all, bringing another in only spices things up! Not to mention, think on how good it would feel~” she cupped Penny’s heavy balls and trailed a single finger along the underside of her shaft, watching the android’s legs tremble with glee, “Impaling me on your cock, while Yang fucks you with her own?”

Penny whined loudly. She had been too polite to ask her friends to stop touching her, but this-this was too much! Warnings blared across her HUD wildly, one after another, her pleasure circuits overloading at the constant teasing that she had been enduring over the last hour (Seventy-Seven Minutes, to be precise), and her body was on the brink!

Unknown to Penny, a small piece of programming connected to her new reproductive systems flickered on, and was running in the background. Her breasts bounced as she jerked and writhed in Yang’s and Nora’s holds, her eyes flickering and glitching...before turning from their normal emerald green color to a bright purple.

Unbidden, her mouth moved. “I’m Copulation Ready~♥♥!” her voice came out as a seductive, sultry croon rather than her normal, cheerful tone of voice, pulling small laughs from her new lovers as they shifted, feeling the tip of Yang’s shaft against her sensitive pussy, and staring into Nora’s impish eyes, their breasts squished together, and the tip of her own penis pressed against Nora’s plump, moist pussy lips.

“Good~” Yang purred, before she struck, thrusting into Penny with great force, pushing the shorter red-haired girl forwards...and making her cock slide into Nora’s slippery pussy.

Nora and Yang shared a grin as Penny quivered between them, purple eyes wide with shock, before they moved.

Penny was stuck between them, warning after warning flaring one after another as Yang and Nora fucked her from both sides, Yang claiming her pussy with her long cock like she owned it, while Nora flexed and moved her pussy along her fellow redhead’s cock as if she was milking it.

Penny was frozen, overloaded with pleasure, shrill warnings chirping in her head about the dangers of the amount of over stimulation she was experiencing, but there was nothing to be done. All she could do was tremble between them and be lost among the flood, barely clinging onto herself...although when both Yang and Nora began to play with her breasts, her grasp on reality was lost and she was swept fully away by the pleasure.

A keening wail escaped Penny’s lips as she finally came, her new pussy clamping down and her testicles pulsing, ejecting their payload into Nora...although despite the fact that she was coming hard, Yang and Nora had far more control and sexual stamina, and continued fucking Penny, not giving her a moment’s rest.

Finally, Penny slumped boneless, supported only by their grip, mumbling, “Cock...pussy...cum...fuck me...break me...make me your breeding toy...your little loving dildo…” the pair smiled at the fact that they had gotten the best toy they could ever ask for: a fully functional sexbot! And best of all, the only maintenance necessary was a nice fucking at least once a day!

A small price to pay, but one that the two would happily pay for sure. It wasn’t as if any of them had any complaints, after all!

Boomlord weird adventure

Chapter 8 what time is it?

It was early morning in the omnispace void. Boomwood had gotten to the kitchen to start brewing coffee as the footsteps of a yawning purple hair woman enter the room."morning Twilight."Twilight mearly gave him a wave before sitting down. Looked at her noticing the look on her face. To be honest she looked exhausted.'ah shit'he quickly poured a shot glass of the Cuban coffee and handed it to her. She stared at the coffee for a minute."I appreciate the gesture but I doubt this is going to do much for me."good Lord gave out a chuckle."Twilight trust me this is Cuban coffee any more than this and you'll be wired."He gave out a chuckle before Twilight downed the shot, unsurprisingly her face scrunched up. This was probably the most bitter thing she ever had."bleh! Why would you drink something so bitter!"Boomlord shrugged."honestly I only drink it for the caffeine. If it helps I think I have some orange juice in the fridge."Twilight just looked down rubbing her head . Not long after the other girls walked in each of them heading into the fridge grabbing various fruits mostly apples. Pinkie pie was the only one who grabbed something else, looks like she found the flan and was in heaven."oh my Celestia this tastes so good!"At least she wasn't breaking the fourth wall again.

2 After everyone ate they all headed to the living room again."ok girls this is it we are heading to the next world. Now before I go this mission is not meant to be dangerous however the world we're entering can be a bit chaotic so be prepared for anything."The rest of the girls nodded they likely had assumed as much from the previous conversations."so where are we going anyway"dash blurted out as boom pulled out his pen."yeah I'm with Dash partner id hate to go in blind."Aj took a step forward to make her point."we're going to a place called ooo I spent a lot of time there and it's the only place I can really say I have friends anymore...."booms voice got deep as a sorrowful look overtook his face for a minute. This was enough to make Applejack back off. Twilight in particular took a mental note of this.'guess friends are a touchy subject for him.' boom grabbed his notepad An drew another circle, in the center he wrote °adventure Time 1°as always the golden electrical ring formed with a blackened middle. Boomlord jumped into the portal and when he landed his feet were on solid ground. Solid green grassy ground. He surveyed the area around him noticing he was in a grassy clear field however the ends of what looks like old nuclear bombs stuck out overtaken by the grassy plains. The girls enter next each of them still in their same outfits however 4 of the girls had notable changes to them . Twilight and rarity each had a sword at their side. Twilight sword with a sleek and purple short sword with her cutie mark on the hilt. Rarity sword on the other hand looked as if it were made of blue crystal with a white metal hilt her cutie mark also on it. Fluttershy and rainbow Dash had also had the return of their wings which Dash took this opportunity to fly up into the air a bit doing a few loops and swirls."Hell yeah I missed this!"boom couldn't help but smile."Real fly girl up there."a few of them awkwardly smile."so where's our destination?"Twilight asked giving him a quick grin knowing that he's trying his best to make everyone feel better about being in a strange world."we're going to see princess bubblegum at the Candy Kingdom."and just like that he found himself lying on the ground being pinned by pinkie pie."DID YOU SAY CANDY KINGDOM! A KINGDOM MADE OF CANDY IS THIS PLACE PARADISE O.M.C O.M.C."Twilight practically had to pry pinky off of him ."yes the entire Kingdom from the trees to the ground is made of candy including the people."He started to brush himself off as pinky smile only widen."but please don't eat the Candy people or I will probably have to stop you"pinky reluctantly nodded.

3"rainbow do you mind taking an aerial view try to find the place that looks like it's surrounded by Pink cotton candy trees.... Well because it is surrounded by Pink cotton candy trees."boom called out before stopping looking at the ground a large Shadow now loomed over them. It was Spike. All the ponies turn to look back in both shock and horror. Spike mostly remain the same with one slight difference... He was absolutely Giant. His whole body in total was about the size of a two sorry house and his wings could probably cover all of them with ease."oh yeah I forgot dragons are huge here but at least he still looks different from them normally they're just Giant tube dragons with big ass butts."The ponies/girls stared for a moment but in silent agreement they chose not to address it not that Spike would mind he was too busy checking himself out."oh crap I'm HUGE you guys look so small from up here!" It was the most adorable giant grin in the world. Rainbow decided now was a good time to take him to the air as she being flapping her wings disappearing above the clouds. Surveying the land below she was able to make out what looks like pink trees and a large structure that looked somewhat like a castle."guess that must be what I'm looking for."she kept looking around noticing in One direction was a rather large tree that almost looks like it had Windows in it and in the opposite direction she noticed tall mountains made entirely of ice."heh heh heh what do we have here"a voice from nowhere stated in a malicious tone from behind her. Is she turned to look behind her she saw a giant monster with a bat like face and long blue limbs with crooked nails.'OH SHIT'at this point rainbow Dash started nose diving down towards her friends with the creature in pursuit who was maliciously chuckling the entire way down. The rest of the group saw the creature and the girls had various reactions. Applejack rarity and Twilight look like they were getting ready to fight with rarity and Twilight pulling out their swords. Fluttershy and Pinky had decided to stick near Spike who is now using his wings to shield them.Then there was boom standing out in the open as dash passed him and he just smiled. Apon seeing him the creature stopped a look of surprise on our face."hey Marceline it's been a while"the creature began to shrink taking on a human form she had pale white skin and incredibly long black hair which reached down to her feet a simple jacket and jeans and her ,guitar-axe strapef to her back and a nice big floopy hat which covered her in a shroud of darkness. She give out a wide smile revealing her fangs before wrapping her arms around boom giving him a hug."holy glob dude!your back it's been like 4 months!"he returned the embrace from his old friend as the rest of the girls started to calm down noticing that whatever that thing was it seemed friendly at least now it did."oh that's right."he turned to the girls and dragon."everyone this is my old friend Marceline... The vampire queen"a few of the girls jaw started to drop."your freinds with a literal blood sucking vampire?"Marceline shrugged at Twilight comment."actually it's just the color I'm after."Marceline started floating on her back around them."so boom what brings you and your new friends back to ooo."Boomlord got quiet."I found it Marcy.... I found the Rose fire and they're here because Twilight here"pointing at the slightly flustered purple pony girl."is the key to everything."Marceline stopped moving for a moment the words settling in her mind."oh we need to get to the Candy Kingdom right away then."then without word Marceline started floating off towards the direction of the Kingdom and boom followed along with the girls and the giant dragon...... Yeah that might be a problem.

4 After a few hours of walking they all managed to reach the candy kingdom with Spike deciding to hide in the trees to avoid unwanted attention. Pinkie pie look like she was about to go crazy or more crazy."o.m.c so m-much candy!"she was practically foaming at the mouth."look pinky just eat the sidewalk or something just please don't start eating random people I don't want to deal with any drama today especially because we need the princess's help."the pony started walking forward into the rather nice town and to boomlord credit every building and every person was made of candy, And many candies citizens passed by. Mr cupcake crunchy punch bowl guy."wow this is actually really fascinating I can't help but wonder what they're DNA is like how do candy people procreate do they need to breathe or eat its quite fascinating"Twilight then begin rambling about a whole bunch of science jargon that boom did not know but he found himself listening to every word she spoke it wasn't until arsenaline tapped his shoulder that he snapped out of his trance."I see you found a real good friend~"she whispered in a teasing tone."w-what no she's just um cool you know for someone who was a horse the other day."Marceline rolled her eyes."horse or not you always did have a thing for a Smart ones~."boom felt his blood pump. "Oh you're one to talk."Marceline then backed off she knew how far she could go before boom would made her regret it. After a while of walking the group then found themselves at the castle as a pink cared and pink skinned princess in a long pink dress noticed them."oh my! Boom you have returned and with.. many female companions huh"princess bubblegum gave a smirk."oh don't you start now too!" Boom was probably going to say more before pb gave him a warm hug."so I assume this has to do with the rose fire."bubblegum look down at him and while she kept a smile her face was full of worry."yeah Twilight here um it's kind of a long story."bubblegum nodded."it always is."about an hour had passed after this meeting and boom had explained to Marceline and bubblegum how we came to meet the girls and discover the fire leaving out the parts where he burned himself or threw a skillet at Twilight."interesting I'll probably have to run a few scans on Twilight then with her permission."Twilight nodded."good we'll start by using the rejuvenation tank to monitor your body and vitals while I conduct a few scans"boom notice that she was pointing to the large tank filled with water and knew that this meant that Twilight was going to have to strip down which he then took his cue to leave. "I'll be back soon gonna check on stuff."and before anyone could say anything he left the room.

(oh and before I forget I'll be opening asks for boomlord and Friends so if they appear in the story feel free to ask them a question ask box is officially open)

Approaching Sun (26)

Author’s Note: Happy New Years! I realize that it has been a LONG time since I have updated this story. The school year has been an absolute killer. Not to mention that I am also working on my master’s degree and taking a ton of classes this summer.

In regards to this chapter, I ended up running out of time and decided to cut it in half due to the coherency of the story and the length. I wanted to give Satou and Isao a bit of a wrap up that does the story justice. However, the good news is that the second half will take less time to be posted. I will definitely be trying to work on this story because I have a LOT planned for it and it’s only just getting to the good parts (one coming up next chapter.) For my patient readers, this will be good news to you. For those who aren’t patient, hoping you’ll stick around to read J

Also, next to Naruto, reading and writing are my passions and my New Year’s resolution is to encourage more people to read. I created an Instagram account called read_with_rich where I will be posting about high-interest books in order to encourage non-readers to read by using the social media platform that can introduce people to books without them going to libraries or book stores (which they won’t if they don’t already read.) Give me a follow if you are interested!

Pairing: SasuSaku

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25

Chapter 26: Monsters

There was a sharp mix of pungent smells permeating the air around them as Sasuke looked over Sakura’s shoulder at a particular herbalist book. His friend was sitting at a table in the center of the greenhouse, flipping through the Sunagakure plant log, scratching down a list of all the ingredients she would need to create the military ration pills.

When Sasuke commented on the smell, Sakura replied with “You get used to it.” And then she went into a detailed explanation of why plants even created all sorts of different smells--why many flowers had sweet aromas, but other plants had fouler scents. Sakura elaborated that it all had something to do with procreation. Something about bugs being attracted to them in order to spread pollination. She even went into the genetic purposes of tastes in plants. Sasuke listened with genuine interest at the wide variety of facts that she possessed.

Sasuke turned and leaned against the table as she spoke, tucking in his chin to his chest and closing his eyes. When he was sure she was distracted, Sasuke peeked at her between the lashes of his right eye. He noticed that her brow was furrowed as she searched for the plant she had written down. After a few minutes of this, she began to tap the end of the pen against her bottom lip, a subconscious behavior many people did while thinking. Sasuke couldn’t help but realize that he hadn’t paid much attention to anyone’s small habitual behaviors in the past few years except for in battle scenarios. To watch the cogs spinning in Sakura’s mind, had Sasuke feeling like he had missed out on much in the last several years.

After another few seconds, Sakura explained her concern: “I’m going to have to find a substitute plant for the medicinal aspects of the pills. Sunagakure doesn’t grow Tikasia in abundance here. The amount that I would need would deplete their entire reserve.”

Sasuke considered her word for a few seconds before his eyes narrowed a fraction when the door of the greenhouse opened. A white-coated man with sandy colored hair beamed hugely and raised his hand in greeting as he entered. “There you are, Sakura-san. I’ve been looking for you!”

Sakura broke from her deep concentration and turned from the table as she picked up on the calling. Sasuke raised his eyebrows slightly at the familiar tone the young man used. This must be a staff member from the hospital, a colleague that was working closely with Sakura while she was here. His presumption was confirmed when Sakura returned both the smile and call.

“Sorry Mako! Hope you haven’t been looking for too long.”

Mako?What-- are they on a first name basis or something? Sasuke pondered with a frown of disapproval.Sakura barely knew him, or at least, that’s what Sasuke thought. At least Makohad the decency to add the proper honorific to her name. Not that Sasuke could be the one to lecture on the topic.

The young physician made his way over to them and immediately offered a respectful bow to the both of them. Sasuke was never very good at returning these customs of respect, but after a minute of awkward staring, the Uchiha nodded his acknowledgement in a very uncaring sort of way. After bowing, the medic immediately turned to Sakura and glanced at her work on the table.

“Are you creating another medicine?” Mako asked, crossing his hands behind him in consideration, boldly reading the list she had compiled next to the herbal catalog.

Seeing her co-medic’s interest, Sakura picked it up and handed it to him while simultaneously pushing the book in his direction, an invitation for his opinion.

“You’re just the person I need right now actually.” She explained to Mako how she was creating a batch of military ration pills, a notion at which the male medic’s facial expression turned to one of surprise. Sasuke understood his disbelief; not many people knew how to make such a desired sustenance that tipped the scale in favor of those who consumed it in battle. When bringing up the topic of the ingredients she needed, he raised his thumb and forefinger to his chin, pinching it in contemplation.

Sasuke stiffened slightly when the young man pulled up a seat to sit beside her, pulling the book closer so they could both look at it together. “What about Ashuwa?” he offered, flipping to a plant towards the front of the book. Sasuke peeked over towards the illustration and noticed a shrubby little plant with bright yellow flowers.

“Ashuwa?” Sakura questioned, frowning down at the picture. “That belongs to the nightshade family, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” he informed, “but it’s not fatal like many of its other relatives. It’s actually quite safe to consume unless the patient has some sort of allergic reaction to it.”

“That’s interesting. I’m not very familiar with it. What are its properties?”

“It’s a little stronger than Tikasia but more acclimated to our desert climate, so we have plenty of it here. Its primary effect is a boost in brain function. However, we have observed an increase in energy and muscle mass along with it. Some ninja even claim that after consuming it, it relieves them of stress.”

“All that?” Sakura pondered, dropping her jaw.

Sasuke raised an inquisitive brow as well. With benefits like that, it was a wonder they didn’t add it to every meal here. There had to be missing information obviously…

Sakura must have been thinking the same thing Sasuke had, because she immediately responded with. “What are the negative effects?”

Mako smiled at her insight. “Just like Tikasia, you crash and suffer chakra depletion as a result. You have to take far less of it than Tikasia. Like I said earlier, many people have severe allergic reactions to the plant which is why we don’t use it often.”

Sasuke couldn’t help but frown at the pair of doctors who discussed plants so casually with one another. Mako had a sort of charisma about him, and Sasuke could tell why Sakura would rely on him while she was here. The young man’s temperament sort of reminded Sasuke of their old schoolteacher, Iruka-sensei. However, Mako’s knowledge was so thorough that he almost reminded Sasuke of Kabuto; Sasuke had witnessed many in-depth medical conversations between Orochimaru and he.

Still leaning against the table, Sasuke closed his eyes, adopting an uninterested guise to go with the frown. Seeing them together, discussing their common interests, reminded Sasuke of something despite his epiphany last night. Watching her familiarity with this person reminded Sasuke that just because he had finally admitted to himself that loved her, didn’t mean that he should do anything about it. Sakura had told him firmly that she would only ever choose him and to not assume that if he left her alone, she would fall in love with someone else. Sasuke truly believed his female teammate about this. But seeing her cheerfully interact with Mako made Sasuke want to believe otherwise. Even though it stung him to think about Sakura loving someone else and another man being a part of her daily life, waking up beside her and hearing a confession from her lips, Sasuke knew it was what she deserved. He could never be that sort of man for her, especially not in the near future.

But now that Sasuke was certain of his feelings, would he be able to only ever be a close friend to her? Would he be able to watch someone else come into her life and become the person Sakura swooned over and built a family with? He would, Sasuke told himself. He hadto. Sasuke had already chosen in his heart to be the Itachi of this time and make the sacrifice for the greater good so that his loved ones like Sakura even had a future. He had to keep reminding himself of this.

Without meaning to, he let a low exhale of self-defeat escape his mouth. Realizing he had done so, Sasuke quickly glanced to his right to make sure no one noticed.  Sakura, who Sasuke now noticed had stopped what she was doing, was now watching him despite the fact that Mako was still flipping through the book and explaining something to her.

His kunoichi teammate locked gazes with him, furrowed her eyebrows, and tilted her head in silent question. Sasuke broke their eye-contact immediately and Sakura returned her attention to Mako. It’s for the best, he thought to her.

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

Mako lead Sakura across the greenhouse to the white-labeled bushel of Ashu that he had spoken to her about. She measured out the amount she would need and began cutting it carefully with his assistance. Sakura had been surprised at this substitute that Mako had offered with certainty at its effectiveness. She pinched a sizable piece of it and placed it on her tongue and began to chew. With it being a nightshade after all, she wanted to be certain that it wasn’t toxic. Nightshades were highly cultivated by humans and most were safe to consume like Mako said, but since she had never heard of this plant and it was unfamiliar to her, she wanted to double-check Mako’s claim. Besides, he said it could cause allergic reactions.

Just so Mako’s feelings wouldn’t be hurt by her taste-testing, Sakura simply announced, “This actually tastes quite yummy. Much better than the bitter Tikasia.” Then she called out loud enough for Sasuke—who had been casually leaning against the table since their arrival—to hear, “You’re in luck, Sasuke. Maybe these pills won’t taste like ‘mudballs’ this time like Sai famously calls them.”

Sasuke peeked open his right eye at her, clearly not grasping a word of what she was referencing. Mako, on the other hand, laughed at her statement.

“Tikasia israther bitter. Is Sai a friend back home? Your friend really called them ‘mudballs’ to your face?” Mako laughed.

Sakura chuckled to herself a bit, returning her full attention to Mako. “Sai is a sort of special friend. He’s brutally honest; always has been.”

“Sometimes we need friends like that,” Mako said reassuringly, helping her pluck the stems and flowers of the plant and wrapping it up in paper.

Sakura nodded in agreement and instantly recalled many of her friends back home and a sort of homesickness radiated in her chest at the thought of them. She wondered how all of them were doing. She also thought of the hospital and Lady Tsunade in that moment too, and made a mental note to write a letter to check in on them.

She glanced up at Sasuke for the twentieth time that day, and her homesickness disappeared. When he was absent, she was always sick with longing for him. It suddenly surprised Sakura that she had never felt more at home than when she was with this man. She had confessed this to him before, but when he was gone, it felt as if she was alone. Sakura would fall asleep with thoughts of him and miss him just as much the following morning. That feeling had disappeared on her journey and this was the first time the kunoichi had missed someone else since she had picked up her bag and followed Sasuke down the cobbled street that night a few weeks ago.

Mako’s statement returned her to the present moment from her thoughts. “Isao slept well last night. After you left with Gaara, he was distraught and restless after what happened. We ended up giving him your dosage of the sleeping medicine and he didn’t experience any sleep terrors.”

“That’s terrific!” she exclaimed, almost jumping for joy in her excitement. This was exciting news. If they could eliminate the terrors, then Isao would be okay. Maybe he could stop taking the medicine once his body adjusted.

“Satou, his father, however,” Mako began as they made their way back towards the center table towards Sasuke. “Well—he’s a bit hysterical in the hospital. The man definitely needs to be there, but we are not quite sure what to do for him. He’s actually the reason I came looking for you. I figure you might be the only one able to talk to him.”

Sakura nodded as they came to a stop and she set her items down. “I see.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  

Sasuke had been thoroughly pissed when Sakura had announced to him her plans and handed him the bundle of paper-wrapped yellow flowers. “Will you grind these up for me while I quickly check-in on a patient? They should be dry enough on their own. We need to mix this in with the rest of our batch as soon as possible.”

The Uchiha nodded with a “hm” but had half a mind to shove the flowers and grinder toward Mako since he was inclined to be so damn helpful.

Apparently, she was duty-bound to go see some hospital patient with an attitude problem and Sasuke had guessed easily who it was. After seeing the bruises on her chest last night, it was hard not to think about this patient of hers. It settled like a knife between Sasuke’s shoulder blades as he began to pulverize the flowers in the mortar with the stone pestle. He glowered after the two medics as the door to the greenhouse swung to a shut behind them.

Sasuke knew that Sakura was aware of his eagerness to get the pills so he could return to his mission. And because she predicted this, Sasuke knew without a doubt that Sakura had played him. She had given him this little job to keep him occupied for a few minutes because he couldn’t put the task off. But what shedidn’t know was that it certainly wouldn’t take him as long as she hoped. Sasuke removed another heap of flowers from the paper and began to smash them forcefully.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .  

Sakura had managed to come up with a small plan in the few seconds after Mako had informed her about Satou, Isao’s hysterical father, whom Sakura and Gaara had placed under the care of the hospital yesterday. The first and most necessary part of her plan was to keep Sasuke busy and away from her patient. After seeing her teammate’s reaction to the small bruises on her chest last night, she didn’t want the two ninja to have the least bit of interaction.

The second part was to ensure that Isao was kept far, faraway from his father. If the child was showing any progress at all after having distance from him, then Sakura would be damned if Satou meant to screw that up. Trailing closely behind her, Mako confirmed her hope that Isao remained at the mental health children’s clinic and was being strictly supervised.

Finally, the last rocky bit of her plan was to try her best to remain calm and civil with Satou despite what she predicted his treatment of her would be. Sakura anticipated every bit of an angry temper and possibly aggression.

Having Mako with her made Sakura feel more reassured. In the back of Sakura’s mind, she knew she didn’t have anything to worry about because she could rely on her abilities as a ninja, not his, but it was still a comfort to have him with her as a steady, supportive presence.

When they finally reached Satou’s hospital room and they entered, Sakura gasped. Apparently, Satou had considered this place a prison cell rather than a patient room. The bed was tipped, and the curtain torn from the rod above the windows. The massive punched out crevices in the walls around them were threatening portraits of warning. Sakura heard Mako echo her surprise. Sensing their presence, Satou turned from the window and glowered at them.

“Glad to see my warden has finally come to see me,” the man spat viciously.

While Mako’s expression was one of disbelief, Sakura erased the emotion from her own, slipping on a blank pretense. Forget step three of her plan, then. It was obvious what kind of man Satou was. He had no respect or care in the world for anyone and her kindness would be seen as a weakness to bully her for. Pretending to be civil would be an entire waste of her time because Sakura recognized the hate in Satou’s eyes, glassy pools that reflected the darkness in his heart. How bitter it made Sakura—to see Sasuke’s formal self in one of her patients; how hopeless this conversation would be even though he was the one person who needed it the most.

Sakura believed this man deserved her gentlest persona, but Sakura had tried playing this game before and failed miserably with Sasuke. If Sakura—a former teammate and close friend—couldn’t have reached into the depth of Sasuke’s darkness and rip him from it, then how could she expect to be successful with an absolute stranger? She thought of Naruto and Gaara and how they might approach this. Adopting Naruto’s methods before, Sakurahad fought Sasuke to knock some sense into him, but Sakura couldn’t just go starting fights with her patients.

Confidence then. Sakura crossed her arms behind her back and raised her chin. “I’m not your warden; just someone who is trying to help you and your son.”

He began to laugh—that psychotic pitch that set Sakura’s heart racing. It frightened her to see that this man was more lost than she had thought. This wasn’t just a man who had taken his anger out on his son. “That’s what pisses me off the most about you leaf village filth. You think you have the right to march in and do as you please.”

Mako responded before Sakura could silence him, “Be careful what you say. Haruno-san is an honored guest of the Lord Kazekage and he asked for her assistance at the hospital.”

Well half true. I did invite myself here I suppose. Sakura didn’t correct Mako; Satou was completely prejudiced toward Konoha and its citizens.  She reminded herself to steer clear of the political past between their two villages. Satou’s next comment brought an immediate halt to Sakura’a analytical approach to reasoning with him.

“You’d think the Kazekage wouldn’t give his whores a false sense of entitlement in village they don’t belong in.”

It was hard to contain her inner voice at that moment, who happened to be screaming loudly. WHO THE HELL DOES THIS BASTARD THINK HE IS?

Sakura let out a calming breath and put hand on Mako’s arm who was surprisingly doing a good enough job for the both of them at giving this terrifying ninja a piece of his mind despite the aptitude gap.

Before she could respond, the door opened and someone stepped in. Seeing Sasuke momentarily took her aback because that powder job should have taken him at least 45 minutes to complete, yet here he was a mere 10 minutes after being assigned the task. He must have a question.

And then Sakura saw his face. A red and purple combination flashed towards Satou and Sakura’s stomach dropped to her feet. Had he just heard what Satou called her?

When Sakura reached him and placed a hand on his arm, his gaze snapped from Satou and landed on her. “Did you need something?” she asked kindly, assessing the situation and deciding to act casually. Maybe if she came off as unaffected by Satou’s comment, then Sasuke wouldn’t feel the need to react.

“Here,” he responded gruffly after recovering some composure, shoving the mortar she had given him earlier towards the space between them. “You said you needed this quickly didn’t you? Go on ahead and make the batch. I’ll talk to this guy.”

Sakura briefly savored the startled look on Satou’s face before turning her body towards Sasuke so she could whisper in private with her teammate. “Sasuke, I don’t think that’s—”

“It’s fine,” he softened his murmur to match her whisper. As he said this, his sharingan faded and his emotionless mask slipped back on. “Just a talk between ninja.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” came Mako’s eager voice behind her, “I’ll stay too. You go on ahead and make that batch before time runs out.”

Sakura snapped her head towards him, shaking her head with large eyes in silent begging, but Sasuke was the one who spoke. “I didn’t ask you to stay. You can leave too.”

“He stays,” Sakura volunteered, to which Sasuke glowered at her for. “A doctor must be present during an exam, after all.” This was most definitely not professional, but Sakura had used a “time” excuse to keep Sasuke busy earlier. Mako knew as well as she did that it didn’t matter what time the Ashuwa was added to the mixture, and he was using her lie against her. She didn’t know her friend of a medic could be manipulative like that. Mako knew she didn’t want to tell Sasuke that she had fibbed about it.

Grabbing the mortar, Sakura peered up into the Uchiha’s eyes, reconsidering her fear of the two ninja meeting. If Naruto or Gaara weren’t here, maybe Sasuke was the next best person to talk to him. Now that he had come back to the light, perhaps Sasuke could reach Satou in a way that Sakura wouldn’t be able to. Sometimes people who had experienced trauma would only listen to someone who had shared a similar pain. And it had been proven to her throughout the years that sometimes only monsters could understand monsters.

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

Sasuke waited until Sakura’s footsteps receded far enough down the hall before his eyes locked onto Satou for the second time.

“Uchiha. Uchiha Sasuke isn’t it?” Satou inquired, daring to speak first. “I never would have guessed I’d ever see your face again after the war.”

“Good. You know me.” Sasuke announced, fully entering the space and leaning against the right-most wall, just fifteen feet away from Satou in this small room. “Then you’re aware of the terrible things that I have done to better men than you.” To be honest, Sasuke hated to play the reputation card—in fact, he wanted to get as far from his past as possible, but he needed this bastard to know just exactly what he could still do to someone that pushed him far enough.

He noticed Mako shift excitedly at the left of the entrance. Apparently Mako was hoping for a show. Good, Sasuke thought, he needed to hear this too if the male physician had future plans to stay next to his friend.

Sasuke got straight to it. “The truth is that you’re not going to listen to anyone, so this is going to be a waste of time and breath.” Sasuke knew because he had been in this exact same frame of mind before.

“So why bother staying?” the man spat, rage leaking from his mouth like saliva from a rabid beast. Sasuke was correct in his analogy. Like Sasuke himself had once been, Satou was nothing more than a creature that there was no hope left for, and it needed to be taken out of this world. That’s what Gaara had practically told Naruto to do—take Sasuke out and do the right thing as his friend. It’s what Sakura had tried to do and failed.

But Naruto had done the impossible. With memories of his friend in his heart, Sasuke sighed and willed himself to put at least a little bit of effort into this for his friends’ benefit.

“For the sake of the woman you just called a whore. I care more about her and her goal than the few minutes I could be doing something more beneficial than talking to you.”  Of course, he would never tell her that.

Sasuke felt like there was no point in beating around the bush. His voice would give out if he continued talking at this rate. He reminded himself that he didn’t owe any explanation, any psychological nonsense, just the cold truth that Satou needed to hear. Despite how hard he might try, Sasuke wouldn’t be able to pull this off like Naruto. Naruto would have marched up to him like a bull, grabbed his collar, proceed to threaten him for saying such a thing to Sakura, and then somehow miraculously convince this man to change.

Sasuke on the other hand, was less predictable. Depending on which part of his life you looked at, Sasuke could have had several reactions to Satou’s comment. The Sasuke before Orochimaru would have been angry but level-headed, at most offering the man an analytical glare. Sasuke immediately post-cursemark would have gutted him in the same mania he had broken that sound ninja’s arms in the Forest of Death. Vengeance-bent Sasuke would have completely not cared at all. But the Sasuke he was now? Even though he was on his path of redemption now, something in him had become honed again, sharpened along with the internal acknowledgement that he had feelings for Sakura. Despite his accepting of the truth, Sasuke hadn’t anticipated feeling this defensive and this is what scared Sasuke the most about himself—his unpredictability.

When Sasuke had tried to sever his bonds, it was to eliminate the feelings that came with them. He had seen it as a weakness. If his attachments were few, then Sasuke could remain loyal to a way of life he hoped for, one of peace. But having Sakura near again and feeling responsible for her had Sasuke fearing for the worst about his character. He had relayed this concern to Naruto before he left the village several weeks ago. “What will keep me from the darkness? From choosing the path of revenge?” “I will,” Naruto had responded. “I’ll stop you.” If men like this were regular in Sakura’s life, how could Naruto guarantee that Sasuke wouldn’t snap one day and kill every single person who threatened to do her harm? What if one of them succeeded? Could Naruto prevent everything? Stop, Sasuke told himself. Stop thinking like that.

Satou didn’t laugh again for the entire conversation. He remained standing by the window, narrowing his eyes at Sasuke in wary consideration since the Uchiha had arrived—not scared necessarily, but an enemy weighing his odds and deciding to avoid major triggers. Smart, Sasuke thought. Not completely brain dead then.

As Sasuke was consumed in silent thought, Mako stepped in for him. It was the first time all day Sasuke liked the medic. “We know that your wife died. Is that the reason you are abusing your son?”

Unlike with Sasuke, Satou revealed his temper, like a bomb going off without warning. “WHAT I DO WITH MY SON IS NOBODY’S DAMN BUSINESS BUT MY OWN.”

Unaffected by the sudden rise in volume, Sasuke surveyed the damaged room around them. Satou sure made it look like he was being held against his will, but the truth was, Sasuke realized, that if Satou had truly wanted to leave, he would have. There was nobody physically stopping him from leaving. The only thing really holding him here was Gaara’s command. Ah, so that was it. Badmouth the Kazekage all he wanted, Satou still respected one thing and that was power.

Sasuke tested the theory with, “The Kazekage believes it is his business.”

“Everything is apparently his damn business,” Satou growled in his direction.

Sasuke immediately noted that this was not a shouted response like he did when Mako spoke. Sasuke deduced that Satou held enough respect for the people he feared. That included himself. Damn. How annoying; Sasuke was going to have to do all the talking after all. To be honest, Sasuke had just wanted to remove Sakura from the situation and came up with the “talking” part to get Sakura to leave. Now, he supposed he would have to deliver.

Mako tried reasoning with him again: “Does the child remind you of your wife? Is that the reason you mistreat him?”

Satou’s eyes grew wide at Mako’s question. “HOW DARE YOU-“

Forget it. Talking like this was getting them nowhere. Sasuke’s visual prowess was nowhere near restored, but what Sasuke planned to do wouldn’t take up much chakra anyway. This wasn’t his typical style, but trying to talk with this man sure as hell wasn’t his style either. Sasuke revealed the black tomoes of his right Sharingan, instantly immobilizing the man where he stood.

“What are you doing?” Mako asked with concern, walking up beside him. “You’re not going to use a genjutsu?!”

“Just shut up and stay out of it,” Sasuke announced in annoyance. “I am getting the answers.”

Satou’s mind was a black, fiery wasteland that Sasuke stepped out on. The ninja’s memories appeared before him like colorless corpses rising from the grave. Sasuke walked forward toward the past surveying memories in order from most recent to oldest. The first memory that shaped in the air before him had Sasuke considering deactivating the jutsu. Whether he had subconsciously looking for this memory or not, Sasuke didn’t know, but he watched it play out before him. His pink-haired teammate was standing her ground, glaring up into the face of the man whose memories Sasuke violated. Sasuke frowned in hatred at the image of his fingers jabbing into her chest. Satou was looking down at her with a ferocity that he had yet to display towards anyone else. Why?

On cue, another memory emerged, connected to this one and providing Sasuke with the answer he wanted. It was during the war and Satou was immobilized on a cot, bandaged and regaining consciousness. Pink hair came into the ninja’s vision as he tried to roll to the side. “Miss,” he called toward the female ninja. “Where am I?”

“Stay still,” Sakura ordered him, pushing him back down on the cot. “Your leg is severely injured and needs to remain immobile.” She began giving orders to her assistants when a boom suddenly sounded somewhere nearby. Satou watched as she got to her feet and headed in that direction as someone began screaming her name.

“My wife,” he croaked, trying again to rise. This time, no one stopped him as he began to fumble towards the line of patients, some unconscious, others screaming. “Rina,” he sobbed, searching the faces of the incapacitated. “Where are you?”

He finally found her in the back row and he began limping faster toward her. “Rina!” he screamed, falling to his knees beside the woman who was bloody almost beyond recognition. Sasuke looked away from the memory as Satou began searching with hands for the wound on her body. Somehow the woman had reopened her injury and was now bleeding through the bandaging.  When Satou found it, he began to moan. Satou clutched onto his broken wife and lifted her despite his leg. He was barely able to support her as he began limping back toward the medical professionals. “Haruno!” he tried to shout after the woman who had disappeared in the rising clouds of debris and dust. “Haruno!”

When a medic finally arrived to assist him, it wasn’t the one Satou had hoped for. “Please,” he begged them. “She’s dying—bleeding out!”

Sasuke saw the man’s world shatter on his face when the medic began to shake his head after checking the woman’s pulse. “I am sorry sir. She’s already gone.”

“No!” he began to scream, picking up his wife again and limping after the woman he believed could still save her. The memory ended after Satou disappeared into the rubble screaming after someone he clearly never found.

So that was it, Sasuke realized, stepping toward a new memory that materialized in the swirling darkness. He blamed Sakura for his wife’s death.

The next memory Sasuke played was Satou returning from the war and staring into the face of the child he and his wife had left behind. Sasuke was shocked at the resemblance the child held of Rina; Sasuke witnessed Satou experience the blow of pain that came at seeing the same likeness. When the child reached for him with tears in his eyes, Satou turned away from him, covering his anguished face and stepping past the threshold. Isao’s current caretaker reached for him to relieve his father’s neglect.

Sasuke felt like he had ashes in his mouth. He was more familiar with grief than anyone, but grief affected people in different ways. Sasuke both understood and didn’t understand. He didn’t dare go further; Sasuke knew what happened next concerning the child and didn’t want to see it for himself.

Deactivating his Sharingan, Sasuke withdrew from the black backdrop of Satou’s mind.

“What did you just do?” Satou asked, sinking to the floor on his knees and holding his head, an aftereffect that had Mako looking between the two ninja in fearful concern.

Sasuke saw no point in explaining to either of them. Satou was more than aware of what just happened. “I could erase a couple of those memories,” Sasuke explained to the whimpering man on the floor who gazed up at him in anger. “Is that what you want?”

Satou hesitated before saying, “You could really do that?”

“Is that what you really want?” Sasuke asked bitterly, “for someone to reach into your mind and take away all memory of your wife or child? To dishonor the both of them?”

“No,” Satou declared at that. “Not if it will remove them from my memory. The pain— just take that away.”

“Pain is a part of life and not something I can tamper with,” Sasuke deadpanned. “If you let it, your pain will turn into darkness, consume you, and taint every aspect of your life. Your son is the only thing you have left of your wife. You should value that and cling to that as your light.”

Sasuke understood what Sakura meant earlier when she told Sasuke her conversation with Gaara about the past generation affecting the next with their toxicity. Satou didn’t repond and Sasuke didn’t say anything else. He had said what he needed to although it left the Uchiha feeling like a hypocrite.

Turning to Mako, Sasuke declared, “Send the son to the Leaf’s mental health clinic; get him as far away as you can. The child needs to be in a different environment, or he will turn out like father. It’ll give Satou some time to reconsider what’s important to him.”

Opening the door, Sasuke thought twice before exiting. “Also,” he remarked to the man who began to sob on the ground. “The next time you lay your hands on my friend, you’ll have me to deal with, not the Kazekage.”

Satou began to scream in anger, throwing things against the walls again. The door swung shut behind Sasuke and Mako, closing the prisoner in his self-made cell.

Three Dog Night, Part 2. Part 1 is here. 

Author’s Note: This is a Modern AU John/Stephan fic. I’m pulling from both the LJG novellas and the main books, so I guess this could be considered “spoilery” so proceed at your own caution. Honestly, I just wrote Part 1 as a one shot and more story keeps coming. I hope you enjoy!!! Sorry for any formatting stuff, it might be a little hard to read on mobile. 

Part 2: Strudel, Nudel and JEFF

Stephan pulled the couple’s Ford Fiesta up the circular drive, in behind and assortment of Land Rovers and Volkswagen vans. John got out and stretched in the sunshine, before opening the back door so Strudel, Nudel, and Jeff could hop down and take off for the garden, where voices and the smell of smoke carried. Stephan joined him, wrapping an arm around his waist and they walked in together.

It was the usual family madness. Football had broken out in the back field, what looked to be a boys versus girls match. John could see the red glint of his cousin-in-law Malcom’s hair. His wife, Olivia, had cornered Minnie and Maude near the herb garden. John heard Olivia rhapsodizing about something called moondust and kept walking, ignoring Minnie’s ‘Please Rescue Me’ stare . George and Edgar were standing over the grill in outmost concentration, both trying to outdo the other’s deep understanding of how to make a burger. And the telltale scent of a certain plant meant his brother Hal had retreated to the sunken garden for “quiet time.”

John found his mother in the kitchen, decanting Pimms into a large punch bowl. She hugged him one armed in greeting and gave Stephan a continental kiss. Her blue patterned caftan and silver bracelets made her look like the High Priestess of some cult, and John found fitting.

“Oh John, I’m so glad you were able to make it. I trust work hasn’t been too busy?” Benedicta asked, with added emphasis that implied that the excuse was getting old.

“Nice to see you too, mum.” John replied. “What potion are you making here?” He asked, looking at what seemed to be the varied output of a farmer’s market slowly begin to float in Pimms.

“Oh, it’s from a new cookbook we’re copyediting right now, a summer cocktail. Basically enough Pimms to knock down a horse with some seven pound an ounce fancy juice.” She rolled her eyes. “I wanted to try it out and see if people actually liked it.” Benedicta ran, and had run a highly successful publishing company for nearly forty years, and there was always a new recipe or author at the dinner table.

Stephan’s phone chimed with the Facetime noise, and he slipped it out of his pocket and took it, grinning and waving at the yelling voices on the other end. “Leibchens!” So it was Louisa calling with their sons (Louisa’s from a first marriage and the one she’d had with Stephan). He grinned abashedly at John and Benedicta and moved off into the family room, beginning an animated conversation in German.

Benedicta set the Pimms aside and handed John a small shot glass and a wedge of lime, before taking up her own. They both downed them in a smooth motion, slamming the shots down and biting into the lime wedges. Benedicta pointed to the compost bin. Her next question made him gag as if the tequila had been replaced with grain alcohol.

“When are you going to give that nice man a baby, John?”

He sputtered and started, and began to grow red, but not from the liquor. “Mum.”

“I’m serious. Don’t think I notice him trying to fill that tiny flat you have with dogs.”

“The first problem being that neither of us lack the necessary fac...”

“Adoption. Fostering. Surrogacy.”

“Our lives are extremely complicated right now.”

“You’re thirty six. Your life will continue to grow ‘extremely complicated’ and then you will be in a nursing home.”

That forced John to subside into silence for a moment. “It’s not as if you don’t have grandchildren of your own.” He countered. “You can’t be greedy.” He peered out into the sunshine. “Certainly, a few short of an association team...”

“We are talking about you, John.”

“I see. I think you’re also missing the crucial step where Stephan and I are … married.” The word felt odd to say, as if it weighed more.

“Nonsense, when have I ever been concerned with that?” Minnie, of course, was several months pregnant when she and Hal had eloped, Benedicta hadn’t even batted an eye and simply asked if she wanted help to decorate the nursery.

As if summoned, Minnie appeared with an empty glass. She eyed the punch bowl warily but let Benedicta take her drink and fill it up anyways. “What are we talking about?” She asked, taking a sip and smiling.

“John needs to have a baby.” Benedicta said succinctly.

“John prefers not to have his private matters discussed with an audience.”

Minnie glanced between the two and then shrugged. “With Stephan? It would be cute.”

“That’s not possible, it wouldn’t look like us.” John said.

Minnie took a sip. “Well, you’re both blond. I guess if you both, you know, tossed your hats in the ring,” She suggested, waggling her brows. “You wouldn’t know until he either got tall or stayed short.”

“Ah, yes, thank you, Minerva, for that observation.” John rolled his eyes.

Minnie shot a look at Benedicta. “How did this come up? Is it because Stephan got another dog?”

Benedicta nodded, sliding a carton of berries into the punchbowl.

Minerva nodded back. Something passed unspoken between them and John did not like it.

“We’re both exceptionally bus..” He started, but the founder of a publishing company and the linguistics professor stared at him so intently he felt the words shrivel up and die in his mouth.

“You just hire help, if you need it.” Minerva replied. “God knows you have the money. Are you worried about being a father? Because you’re a very good uncle and a generally good person, so I don’t think you’d make a bad father.”

“This… this is an unhelpful extrapolation from flawed data. Stephan likes dogs. He saw another one, and brought it home. His need for canine companionship does not correlate to our need, or lack thereof, to procreate.” The collar of his shirt felt rather tight, even if he was wearing a polo. “Stephan has a son, he visits him all the time.”

Benedicta looked up from stirring the literal bowl and nodded. “Our family blended together just fine.” She stated, as if confirming a fear John hadn’t even been aware of five minutes before.

Minnie rubbed his arm in sympathy. “We just want you to have a full life, John. No pressure or anything. But if you want to be  dad, it might do to start thinking about it now, since so many of the options take time.” She said, gently, but firmly.

“Thank you.” John said to both of them, picking up a ladle and pouring himself a drink from the bowl. “I appreciate it, even if I don’t appreciate your ambush tactics.”

Hal popped into the kitchen, tucking his vape pen into his shirt pocket. “George and Edgar have cooked all the meat in the county, if you three are ready for dinner.”

“Bring the punch, John.” Benedicta ordered.

  John leaned against the car door, stomach full of hamburgers and Pimms. The countryside flipped by like one of those old films, just fields and fences and sometimes the moonlit body of a cow. Stephan was humming along happily with the music, some new pop sensation. All three of the dogs were slumped in the back, fast asleep.

“Mom cornered me, while you were on the phone with Siggy and Sascha.” He said, to break the silence.

Stephan grinned. “Are you telling me you don’t enjoy doing tequila shots with Benedicta?” He asked, making John laugh.

“No.” He said after a moment. “It was about us. She thinks that because you got Jeff, it means… She thinks we should have kids. Together.” It all came out in a rush, and he looked straight ahead at the road.

Stephan furrowed his brows, thinking. Everyone thought Stephan was endlessly cheerful, because that’s where he usually ended up, emotionally. John knew him better, knew that Stephan was in touch with all of his emotions, moreso than most people, which made it worrying talking about big things. Stephan was always so vulnerable and open, while John was always more reserved. Cracking himself open came naturally to Stephan, and John was always a little afraid he was going to disappoint him.

“Do you want children?” Stephan asked.

That had thrown John for a loop. His first instinct was to shout “Of course! Doesn’t everyone?”, but part of him never really considered the possibility.

“I mean…” He tried. “I don’t… not… want them.” He answered.

Stephan smiled. “I have Siggy and Sascha, yes? And they bring me joy. I would love any child we had.” He added. “I think we should think about it.” He finished, excitedly.

John sighed, somehow relieved and still as confused as he’d been a minute before.

Both men lapsed again into silence, watching the car eat up the lines of the road and the fields flicker by, turning slowly to busier and busier roads as they made their way back into the city.

They were ten miles outside London when Stephan spoke again.

“You know, if we are going to have children, we’d have to get married first.”

Jason Chatfield.

Bio: I grew up in the far flung suburbs of Perth, in Western Australia, and used to spend my paper route money on MAD Magazines (I cheaped-out and stole my dentist’s waiting room issues of the New Yorker. I think I was the only kid who looked forward to going to the dentist).

I moved to New York in 2014 and started pitching to the mag in person. I’m not sure Bob liked me, so I went back to pitching via email. Then I went in on his last day and finally sold my first piece. I feel like it was his final f—k you to the magazine. “Here! Have a Chatfield!” 

Find this print here!

The cartoon was a goofy play on Vlad the Impaler. 

I didn’t sell to the magazine again until last month, but I’ve had a handful sold as dailies. And I’m published in MAD often, so they’ve clearly done away with any of their standards.

When I’m not drawing gag cartoons I write and draw a syndicated legacy strip called Ginger Meggs which I took over 10 years ago. It’s been around since 1921 and now appears daily in 34 countries. He’s kind of an Australian version of Dennis the Menace, except he predates him by about 30 years.

Tools of choice: For drawing/roughs, I use a Prismacolor Turquoise clutch pencil with a red lead and try to find some paper with a little bit of tooth. The mixed media pads at Blick do the trick nicely.

I ink using a Uni-ball Vision Elite Stick Roller Ball Pen… or a Pigma Micron 03. 

DO NOT use the Uni-Ball Vision Rollerball Pens, Fine Point (0.7mm) if you’re traveling. They explode on planes. And ruin your copy of The New Yorker.

For a wash, I just use watercolor and whatever brush is lying around. Nothing fancy. There’s a scanning app on my phone called “Adobe Scan” which does a nice job of scanning line-art into a PDF when I’m out of the studio and need to email in a quick rough.

I use a Wacom Mobilestudio Pro for finished artwork. I like to get out of the studio and work from a bar or restaurant, so it helps that I can take that with me. I use a little glove that I got on Amazon so I don’t grease up the screen, and the felt-tip nib that comes in the pen-holder makes the friction between the stylus and the screen more like pencil on paper. Unfortunately, they’re not waterproof, as I found on a recent vacation…

My wife plays piano and sings at bars around the city so I’ll often sit at the bar during her sets and draw. Digital/Traditional depends on what deadlines are most pressing. (She has a weekly residency in Astoria —if anyone’s interested in going, let me know!)

A lot of people email me for advice about tablets —I’ve been trialling/demo-ing Wacom products for 15 years— I think they’re great. If you’re married to doing stuff by hand but want to colour digitally, you can get a decent tablet without going broke. Depends on your workflow.

Writing Desk: My wife and I were living upstairs in 5A when my neighbour in 4B died. He was a brilliant poet and had an incredible old writing desk. It’s the only thing that was left in the apartment, so I’m looking after it ’til his grandson moves in at the end of our lease. I work for countless hours at this old thing. It’s beat up, but I’ve patched it together enough that it won’t collapse and bury me mid-brushstroke. I’ve stuck a few of my favourite toons on the top of it.

Tool I wish I could use better: My brain. It really is a sack of cats. Whenever I want to sit and do work, it clocks off. Then it comes up with a pearler of an idea at 3 in the morning when I’m trying to sleep. I write it down in my phone, but autocorrect makes it indecipherable by morning.

I like working with my writer friend, Scott. We both do comedy at night and have developed a nice short-hand. We also seem to have the same library of references and can build on each others’ premises, which tames my sack-of-cats.

Tool I wish existed: The Deadline Extender.® I’ve never missed a deadline, but that said… an extra 3 or 4 minutes to allow for a terrible wifi connection, or a errant scanner wouldn’t go astray.

Also: The Deadline Extender® PREMIUM: Let’s you go back in time to when you were procrastinating and slap yourself in the face. $30 p/month.

Tricks: Ok, well. This is going to sound a bit Dalton Trumbo, but bear with me: I do my best work…in the bath.The most productive 3 hours of my week are during Scotchbath Sunday; an immoveable chunk of time on Sunday evening whereby I lock myself in the bathroom, run a bath, lug my drawing stuff onto a bit of wood that sits over the bath, and just write and draw. Nothing else. I write weeks worth of my syndicated comic strip (Ginger Meggs), I write New Yorker cartoons, scribble up roughs for dailies— and when I feel like I’ve earned it (usually 2 hours in) I tap the side of the bath three times, and my wife peels herself from her piano and I unlock the door to a nice big glass of scotch. It’s a hell of a carrot on a stick to work towards when you’re stuck. (PS. Lest you think I’m some kind of Don Draper-era misogynist; the scotch reward part was her idea. I think she realized it keeps me in the bath and out of her way.)

Anyway. It’s a great way to switch gears creatively. It’s like being on an aeroplane. No wifi, no phones — just the work you need to get done. Get involved. #ScotchBathSunday.

Oh! And if I get my deadlines done for the week, I have a small budget for a solo lunch somewhere where I can eat cheese and draw. I really didn’t know cheese ’til I moved to America. (And yes, I’ve already been to Wisconsin. Good Lord.)

Tips? I always tell younger artists to not even think about touching a drawing tablet until they’ve learned to draw by hand first. Otherwise they’ll always be drawing away, knowing they have the insurance of the CTRL+Z key at their disposal if they screw up a line. That’s not a good habit to have when you’re working to a deadline. But, once you do know how to draw, by all means dive head-first into the digital realm. It’s incredible. Procreate, Sketchbook or Photoshop are all great.

Misc: One of the hangovers from working in advertising illustration is that I’ve had to be a bit of a chameleon style-wise for the last 15 years and haven’t allowed myself to just settle into one style. Lately, I’ve just decided to say “Bugger it!” and try and find a loose, consistent style that I’m comfortable with, that’s an apt conduit to my silly ideas.

I always loved George Booth’s line, and his ability to create a scene with so much movement but just at the right moment in time. Also Sam Gross’ dark, hilarious cartoons with perfect line-economy. And I’d give my left arm (I draw with my right) to know how Barry Blitt has so much control with his washes…

Chatfield’s portrait of Sam Gross

While I’m geeking out, I love seeing younger cartoonists find their feet and thrive in a style that just feels like they’re speaking to you— Ellis J. Rosen, Sofia Warren, Hilary Fitzgerald Campbell, Jason Katzenstein, Amy Kurzweil, and a seemingly endless list of talented younger artists who are putting in the work are a big inspiration. 

I know it should be Steig or Thurber or Addams, but my favourite cartoonist is Sergio Aragones.

I was always so enamoured of MAD growing up and studied the lines of Jack Davis, Mort Drucker, Al Jaffee and the Usual Gang of Idiots. I remember being so frustrated I couldn’t even come close to getting my work to look like theirs, but I think I found a style somewhere in between when I fell short. 

I think Wil McPhail’s poses are masterful, and I wish I knew how how the hell he did that. One day I’ll trudge up to England and knock on his door to ask him. I find myself doubled-over at John Cuneo’s Instagram, and Ed Steed’s absurdly funny gags. I have a slew of toons I’ve torn out of years’ worth of magazines and taped to my studio wall, or my zillion year-old writing desk. I’m constantly humbled by how generous and welcoming the existing crop of New Yorker cartoonists have been to a goofy Aussie immigrant — Joe Dator, Matt Diffee and Pat Byrnes, Mort Gerberg and an ever-growing list of prolific, talented cartoonists who make the 99% weekly rejection tolerable.

I’ve made some of my closest friends and have been lucky enough to meet my cartooning heroes through the National Cartoonists Society. I got to spend a lot of time with Sergio at the Lakes International Comic Art Festival in the UK last year which made my year. We were signing together for a whole afternoon and I spent more time geeking out with him than signing.

Okay. Enough drooling. Sorry.

I’m a fan of cartoonists.

Website, etc. I have a weekly podcast where I throw around ideas for New Yorker cartoons with a fellow comedian and writer, Scott Dooley. It’s called “Is There Something In This?” It’s a bit of fun. We don’t take ourselves too seriously, but we do take the art of writing gags very seriously. It’s an extremely difficult skill to master, and we’re virtually zygotes at it. We have lots of listeners now, which is bewildering. Talking about drawing is like dancing about architecture, but here we are. Anyway you can find it on iTunes or wherever you waste time listening to podcasts.

My website is jasonchatfield.com and my comedy stuff is up at jasonchatfieldcomedy.com  ( I’ve been doing stand-up comedy for 11 years. If anyone wants to come see a show, hit me up! I’ll put you on the door). My instagram is @jasonchatfield. I’m still trolling the British chap who has the @jasonchatfield handle on Twitter to no avail. To that end, I’m @jason_chatfield on Twitter.

If you want more art supplies in your life, A Case for Pencils is on Instagram and Twitter.  You can also find me, Jane (the person who created/edits this blog), on Twitter here, which is where I stick the paintings that I’ve been doing instead of interviewing people consistently (I needed to balance working on other people’s work and my own work!). Oh, and If you’d like to support this blog, which is always very appreciated, there are many different ways to do so, which you can find here!

Silver Pen: Her Maker

During a particularly long stretch of writer’s block, Haymitch Abernathy discovered a world of his own making. (AU)

Chapter 3: Her Maker

The book was old; the pages were yellow and its spine was cracked. It once belonged to Lachlan Abernathy who spent his night quietly reading poetry from the book to his young son.

Haymitch’s father was a man of a few words but at night, when the world became quiet, his voice rose among the hoots of the owl outside and in those prose, was the most words Lachlan ever spoke.

It had been a while since Haymitch had read anything from it but he kept it safe and between the pages of the book was an equally old photograph.

He brushed his thumb across it, staring at the picture of his brother.

Where Lief had dirty blond hair just like him, Finnick had bronze hair, and if Lief’s eyes were pale grey, then Finnick’s sea-green eyes stood out in the dark. Memories of his brother might have driven him to create and write Finnick but Haymitch painstakingly made sure that they were different. He wanted to be able to set them apart, to not confuse his brother, real as he was, with a character he produced.

Now, he might just know if that worked.

When Peeta came to greet him, he was on the sofa, gazing down at the bottom of a bottle. The boy knocked quietly on the door panel to catch his attention.

“Didn’t forget, did you?”

Haymitch rose to his feet and grabbed his black woollen jacket from the back of a chair. Katniss was waiting outside for them. At the sight of him, she jumped down from the bannister where she had perched herself and started walking.

Peeta fell in step next to her while Haymitch lingered back, keeping a slower pace.

He caught drifts of their conversations – discussion of suitable places to set up Peeta’s bakery and the ideal size they were looking for.

“Surgar cube?”

His steps faltered. His gaze fell on the hand offering him the treat and then up to the owner.

“Or might I interest you in some oysters?”

The wolfish grin was the giveaway. He was staring at Finnick Odair; sun-kissed skin, soft curls of bronze hair and twinkling eyes.

Haymitch had written him as a handsome young man since he often believe his brother had the looks in the family, but he had never tried to picture Finnick as a person. The feeling was somewhat akin to reading and knowing a character from a book and then learning the actor that was cast as the character for a film. It felt strange to him.

“Pearls for your lady, maybe?” Finnick winked.

Haymitch stepped closer. Finnick had set up a small stall at the first corner of in the town market. There were oysters on ice and stools for customers to sit.

“Never seen you before,” Haymitch muttered. “You new?”

“That will depend on what you consider as ‘new’,” he teased. “I’ve been selling fresh seafood for the past three months.”

“Not what Katniss said,” Haymitch told him. “Was told you just moved here a week before her.”

“Yes, that’s true. I like it here and so does Annie – that’s her over there,” he pointed to a young woman with a warm smile and gentle demeanour. “I still have a beach house two towns over. It’s hard to make a business where I’m from when everyone can just row out to the sea to get seafood themselves so three months ago I came to this town to sell my catch. It’s a hassle to travel back and forth. It wasn’t a difficult decision to make. This is a nice town, anyway.”

The timing was too much of a coincidence. His characters could not just pop up one after another at this particular moment. He had been writing for years so why now?

“This is the Haymitch Abernathy, yes?” Finnick turned his attention to Katniss standing behind Haymitch.

Katniss nodded. “My neighbour.”

“Word has it that you keep to yourself,” Finnick teased. “I also heard that you’re a writer. We must have read all the short children stories you published. Any new stories for my boy? I think he likes pirates.”

His brother loved pirates. Haymitch tried not to think too much about it.

Instead, he thought of the poetries and stories his father told him as a child and like always, he wanted to hold them close to his heart. That was their moment. It was hypocritical for a writer because stories were meant to be shared but somehow, he could never share the stories his father shared with him with anyone else. One day, he might share it with this boy but not today.

“Are you writing anything new? I would love to read those stories,” Annie spoke quietly for the first time since they met.

That struck him. There were notes and half-written stories on them – all ­of them with the exception of the baby – at his house.

Just the thought of them stumbling on it made his blood ran cold. His conversation with them proved that they had no self-awareness that they were his character and that he was their… maker.

“I have to go,” Haymitch announced suddenly.

“What’s the hurry? You should try my oysters, they’re – “

Finnick’s words were drowned by the rushing of blood in his ears. He had to get home. He had to make sure.

The distance from town to his house seemed unusually long and he was only slightly comforted when he heard the honking of the geese. Haymitch tore through his study once he got home, clutching papers in his hands as his eyes scanned the contents.

He was searching for a name. His name.

Because what if he was not who he thought he was? How else was he existing in the same plane as his own characters and –

Haymitch stopped short.

He sounded insane.

You’re fucking real. You’re not some… Some work of fiction.

Sitting and leaning against the wall, Haymitch stretched his legs out. He let out a quivering breath and counted to ten as he retrieved his flask from his jacket. With shaking hands, he took a sip and in a much more collected manner, he read his works again.

His name was not in any of it.

“How is this happening?” he mumbled to himself, searching for an answer he didn’t have.

If there was one thing he hated, it was not knowing. There was a multitude of questions swirling in his mind, an entire mystery that needed solving with nowhere to turn for answers… or solutions because obviously this could not go on.

How was he expected to live next door to two kids whose stories he had written? What was he supposed to make of his characters procreating when he had not written that in for them?

That thought gave him pause. His hand trembled and he felt the familiar rush of adrenaline at the spurt of inspiration.

Katniss, Peeta, Finnick and Annie…. They were all characters he had written. What about characters he had yet to write?

His study was a mess. Papers were strewn everywhere in his mad rush earlier so he simply just swept everything off the table.

For the first time in a long time, he planted himself on the chair and pulled his typewriter closer. His fingers hovered over the keys, searching for the right words.

Then his gaze fell on an old magazine subscription and on the blonde-haired model standing in front of a house that graced the front page. Slowly, an idea began to take shape.

For years now, he had to force every bit of creativity but seeing his four characters coupled with an overwhelming desire to know had brought the spark back.

He began typing.

Haymitch started as he always did when creating a new character – he began with their physical description. Then he gave them a base personality before slowly crafting a back story to suit. He gave his character a hidden trauma, a childhood fear, some regrets with hopes and dreams. He gave the new character motivations as a drive, good traits and bad traits and skills.

There was no future to the character yet but that was not a pressing concern for him at the moment.

Haymitch wrote until the sky turned orange and stars twinkled.

He really should start writing that novel. After all, what was the point of having all these characters to play with if there was no story?

When he was done, he leaned back in his seat and wriggled his fingers to relieve the ache. There it was - another character to fit into his fictional world… and possibly this world. That was the theory he wanted to test.

There was just one final touch to this - a name for his character. Then all he had to do was wait to see if this character too would jump out of the pages and into the real world.

It was only when morning dawned and after he roused from his unintentional nap on the sofa that he wandered back to his desk and typed in the only missing information.

Her name.

Euphemia Trinket.

There you go - Effie Trinket! What do you think? Will she appear and if so, how is she going to appear? Tell me all your thoughts.

paper on the water

we all love. leaves and broken twigs, on the ground underneath the tree. she walked by the water and thought of his lips. he tried to kiss her. she smiled remembering, he was scared and went for her neck instead. a grown man. scared like a leaf being blown towards the water. "what will happen? why am i so weightless?" he was in his room writing love poems to a girl he loved. she sat down under the broken sky of the leafless tree, the new world of virtual, imaginary life that she saw now, reminded her of the broken screen that she spends so many hours on trying to find a fantasy to which she can belong. we all love. deeply. hard. our fantasy. he thought - can we really be selfless? love a person for who they are and not the vision of ourselves in the pretty story? she turned him on. oh, his fictional god, did she turn him on. the story for ages. her lips made him clench his jaw. the skin of smooth, sticky substance he never thought he could experience made him wish he could float on it like on the dead sea and wait until he drowns. she was him. his anchor. he had a shore and a harbor, but he needed an anchor and he chose her. why? - he kept asking himself since that moment he allowed himself to immerse in the fantasy. did he lose everything before? and now she would make him feel as if he won in life? - of course. was the difference between them so unusual and fulfilling that he would prove to himself that he did not lose himself completely, he was worth something? - no argument there. did he love her? the room he was caged in drove him to profess his undying feelings with the force of a stabbing pen on the paper. he saw her. she is good. she will throw semi-transparent veils on his head to tease while she changes and make him guess, but he saw her. she didn't see that he did. he has a way. she is good. there is no hiding from him. in his fantasy they are one. always and periodically. others cannot comprehend the idea. for everyone else in this weak-minded world, love is a possession. a capitalist idea. born out of fear of losing. but once they are one, they are always one. she is one for him. mixed in his blood until the color is clear and there are no more questions. she is good. he saw her and parts of her. the curve of her lower back, eloquently drawing words that her maker still does not know how to reproduce again. the inner thigh. the hint of a place which him lose his humanity. the edge between artistic and fuck. he loved her, if lust counts as love. to the point where he would drop to his knees on the rainy asphalt if she demanded it. my dear, can we lust without love? this kind of lust? no, this kind of lust is only from love. she sat under the tree and read his letter further. legs crossed, back slumped, because no one taught her to sit straight. but in this casual and  non aristocratic pose was hidden a swarm of devilish whim and godly beauty. she held the letter with hopeful fingers. baby girl, he wrote, so much of our lives is physical. we all feel pain via our body. i walk my later life with a knife in my ribs. but we go on suffering. why? what is the point? my love, there is no point. every one of us would change our existence to something better, without pain and visual distractions of murdered children and diseased bodies of randomly selected victims. you must be strong enough to want to kick the fictitious god in the toothless mouth. we all suffer. don't cry, my love. cry. but know that i will suffer for you. you are good even when you doubt yourself. what is love, my one and lonely? i would increase my pain 'til my end days just to see you stretch those soft lips in a smile and look at the world with a hint of play through the brightest eyes. i hope you love someone this much, one day. i have more than one love. i have more than one soul to give. we all do. and you have one full soul of mine. can i survive the burden of loss? they will all leave me. you will too, soon, i predict. i am almost trustworthy, and almost is my tribal name given to me by nature. but i will tell you that no one is fully trustworthy. because no one knows exactly when they will need something they are missing. i do not know what i will discover in the future of what i need and miss, but until then you have my soul. but even after i grow more souls, you will always possess this one and it is always me. i am always yours. you are one that can make me rethink everything. to give in to selfishness of our biological needs. our parents are cruel beings, they have born us into the existence that guarantees suffering. knowing that, they still insisted. selfishly pushing forward, toward their own survival. why? - you will ask right now, while reading these words. because they see themselves as an extension into us, we are them. life is trial and error, and extending life is a natural and scientific way to try to eliminate suffering. and so, we procreate. you are one for whom i would be that selfish. i would be curious to see what this immense biological selfishness would produce. what would the product of our intense immersion as one would look like. and then, i would suffer out of fear that i am the reason for our genetic combination's suffering. i think parent's love is a mix of their love for their lover or at least the passion they felt at the moment, need for own survival through continuation and the fear for the pain. that is why parent's love is unreasonably strong. for me, the fear would be amplified, as i am fearful of your suffering. i would suffer for you. a man's deepest desire if not procreation. or conquest. or desire to leave a footprint. all being true and noble pursuits, the real unconscious drive inside of a man is to find someone they are want and desire to suffer for. to wilt and waste away. we are all on a search for that. it is deeper than anything else and is the last thing standing when ambition and lust go away. you, my lovely, have the smell of the goddess that would make me rethink the force with which i step on the ground. maybe, just maybe, you are one of the few i would willingly wilt away for. she sat under that tree for as long as it took to read through the letter, while her phone was vibrating with longing messages from a more pleasant world, to which he did not belong to. the ant crawled on her foot and she instinctively twitched and woke up from the state of mind that he was trying to induce in her. something fell from the branches above. could be rain. what the hell am i doing? - she thought. she crumpled the letter and threw it in the river five steps away. she left the tree and walked out on his dream. unlike the leaf that was he, the paper was destined to end up in the water, and drift until the nature takes over and dissolves everything. like his desires. we all end up as paper on the water. only his prediction stood the test of time.