This pup is up for auction! After trying everything out on my own doberman mask, I decided to run through it again and smooth out some quality of life hiccups. So to that end:
This mask has a resin base, silicone nose and tongue, glass eyes, and hand-placed whiskers. The jaw is articulated, a zipper opening in the back allows easier access if needed, the hood is lined, and the forehead pad has a removable cloth cover for washing. It can be worn with glasses.
All parts are hand-made custom, excluding the jaw hinge from Dreamvision Creations. The mask was only worn during the fitting and photography sessions.
25% of the profits from this sale will be donated to an animal shelter in need! The buyer can inquire for details if desired.
Signal boost! I’m really excited to be able to get a mask into someone else’s hands!
The slave auction: Call him into yur room and have him present himself naked to you. Instruct him to pose, spin around and bend over as you like. Once you have inspected the goods you call out your bid, which is how many orgasms he will give you before he gets to cum. Too bad for him that you are the only bidder.
From the website: #PubforPR is a group of authors, editors, and literary agents that have come together to create an auction to benefit Puerto Rico’s relief efforts after hurricane María. All proceeds will go directly to Unidos por Puerto RicoandConPRmetidos, two carefully vetted local charity organizations.
How can you bid?
There are hundreds of items up for auction. From book bundles for readers to manuscript critiques for aspiring authors, and even visits to NYC! Auction items are listed by groups, or you can just scroll until you find something that catches your eye.
I managed to squeeze in this adoptable while the Halloween feels were still around! I couldn’t help myself. I would’ve made more themed adopts, but I ran out of time!
I realise now this would’ve been a fun opportunity to put together some Halloween themed adoptables, whoops! I’ve gotten into fish recently, which brought these odd cuties to be.
It took me longer than intended to get around to some more adopts, I’ve been busy working on SoS and Patreon stuff ^w^ Speaking of, I’ve finally added a couple more tiers!
Note: I’m sorry. I know I’m late. I know I’m falling behind. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
Trigger warnings: I usually don’t post trigger warning cause it’s all in the tags. I’m posting them here now because it’s NSFW and it’s non-con. I need to emphasize that. It’s nothing too graphic but it happens. So please, read the tags, all the tags before proceeding. I felt so terrible writing this. And honestly I regretted it halfway but I was already falling behind
“Next item for auction. A precious, rare item that would probably never grace our halls again. Going for 25 million dollars. Miss Amber Sweet, CEO of GeneCo.”
The bag was pulled off the creature on the stage. She squinted as the lights blinded her. He saw the fear hidden behind the arrogant contempt that bitch always wore. He grinned. He found his new plaything.
Whispers echoed through the audience. They were all wearing masquerade masks and only their assistants were allowed to speak for them; a façade for hiding their identities. But he knew who each and every one of these insects were. No one hid from him.
“Show us a sample.” A voice from the audience called out. Assisstant to Mark Black; tech genius and CEO of MobileTech.
The auctioneer approached the GeneCo head. She snarled at him. Any malice negated by the fact that she was bound and gagged. Her clothes were stripped off her; leaving her clad in black lingerie.
Someone in the audience whistled in approval. Kelvin Grant. CEO of Fashion Tech.
The girl glared at them but she just looked like a cheap prostitute from here.
“Anything more will be the privilege of the winner of the auction, of course.”
Someone boo’d. Joseph Chase. CEO of Charmaceuticals.
“Let’s start the bidding at 25 million.”
“50 million.”
The bidding war started. The price climbed quickly. He watched horror enter the girl’s face.
“750 million.” Mutterings filled the room. How much were they willing to pay for a one night stand really? But he…he had a new toy. She would be worth everything.
“…going twice. Sold to number 27 for 750 million. Next item on our list-”
But he’d lost interest. He had his new pet. “Extensive surgery. Change her face; remove any recognizable scars or birthmarks. Change her body shape if you have to. I don’t want anyone to recognize her.”
“Yes sir.”
***
Everything hurt. How long has she been here? Why haven’t her brothers come for her? Someone had to come for her.
She looked around her room. Well, barely a room. It had no windows and only a single arm chair and queen sized bed filled it. Nothing else. No mirrors. No dresser. Nothing. Why would she be given a dresser? The man stripped her lingerie off her the first day and she has worn nothing since. She fought the embarrassment. She won’t let this affect her.
The door opened.
She fought her urge to cower. She couldn’t look weak. She refused to look weak.
The man who bought her walked in still wearing the same masquerade mask. “Hello princess.” He stroked her cheek.
She fought the urge to shrink away. Instead she spat at him.
He grinned. And slapped her hard across the face. The force sent her sprawling on the ground. “It seems I haven’t broken you yet. I really don’t like damaging my pets.”
Amber tried to get up. A foot stomped down on her back sending her crashing to the ground. She refused to scream.
“I think my pet needs to understand who she belongs to.” He kicked her onto her front.
“Fucking bastard.”
“Shhhhh. Bad little pets need to be punished.”
Four men ran into the room and held her down. Her eyes widened as the fifth passed him a red hot poker with a seal on top. “No.” She whimpered.
“Yes pet, beg.”
She glared.
The man just grinned and pressed the poker onto her stomach.
She screamed. Searing pain filled her stomach. She struggled but the men held her down.
The poker was lifted but the pain still persisted. Tears burned in her eyes. She forced them back. She won’t let them see her cry. She won’t.
“Get on the bed.”
The men released her.
Shakily, she got onto her feet.
“Get on the bed.”
Every step sent searing pain through her. She gingerly sat on the bed.
“I don’t usually like to share. But you men have been working so hard.” He sat in the arm chair. “Go ahead. Have your turn.”
“No.” She backed away. But there was nowhere to run. “Don’t you fucking touch me.” Two men held her down. She kicked one of the men in the groin. The other two grabbed her legs and spread them open. “No.” She fought.
She heard pants unzipping.
She bucked and fought but they held her down.
A sharp pain shot through her as he forced himself into her.
She looked at the ceiling. She focused on the ceiling fan. Just as she had done every night she was here. She wasn’t here. She wasn’t here. She was at home; in GeneCo, safe. She was in her room, getting ready for bed.
The man’s grunts distracted her and forced her back to the present. She felt the bedsheet scratching her back. Her stomach was on fire. Hands. So many hands holding her down. And this terrible pain going in and out and in and-
The fan. Just look at the fan. She was not here. She was not here. She was…
Her brothers would come for her. Her brothers would find her. Someone would save her.
***
Amber studied the scarred crest on her abdomen. She traced it. She knew who was behind this. She imagined stabbing a poker in the bastard’s eye. She imagined herself slicing his skin off until there was nothing left.
The door opened.
Amber flinched back. What new torture did he have for her today?
“Oh my pet is so good today.”
Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.
He stroked her cheek. “You must be in so much pain. Let me help you.” He pulled out a Z gun.
Amber’s eyes widened and back away. “No.” She was clean. She was fucking clean.
“Shhhhh. I’m being kind. Don’t you like it when I’m kind?”
“No.”
He grabbed her hair and pulled. “Don’t you remember what happens when you don’t listen?”
“Please.”
“Yes. Beg me for it. Beg me to give you Z.”
No. She was clean. It took her so long to give up Z.
“Beg. Me. For. Z.”
“Please. Please give it to me, sir.” Disgust filled Amber.
“As you wish, pet.” He placed the Z gun against her thigh.
She closed her eyes. Tears streamed down her fac. No. Not Z. Not-
The gun went off.
A thick haze filled her. She felt calm and relaxed. And why was she so upset?
She was pushed forward onto the bed.
It was so comfortable.
She felt a pressure from behind.
She felt…nothing.
***
Pavi watched their guests dance around the hall. He wasn’t in the mood for a party. But GeneCo still had to keep up appearances. It’s been a year since their sister ran away. Pavi sighed. It was so unlike his sister. He wished she would have talked to him about it first. She didn’t show up for work one day and they found a letter in her room saying that she couldn’t stand the stress of running GeneCo anymore; that she was leaving Luigi in charge of GeneCo and she was leaving for good.
It just wasn’t like his sister. She was the one who wanted to run GeneCo. If she really hated doing it; Luigi would have been happy to take over. And she could still stay here doing whatever she wanted. Why the hell did she have to leave?
Pavi spotted the President come in. He sighed. Time for work.
“Mr President, we are-a delighted to have-a you here tonight.”
“I am delighted to attend.” The man smiled charmingly. “And please for the last time call me Francis.”
“The Pavi wouldn’t-a dare Mr President.” Pavi turned to the girl standing at the President’s side; a small wallflower who wouldn’t meet his eye. “Has-a the Mrs President gotten a new face?”
“Unfortunately no. The Mrs is in Europe for business. So I thought I’d show off my latest prize.” He turned to the girl. “Show Mr Largo your face.”
The girl slowly lifted her face but did not meet his eyes.
“Your-a face is-a beautiful, bella.”
The girl didn’t say anything.
“Isn’t it? It cost me a fortune to redo the bone structure but I think the result is exquisite.”
Pavi held the girl’s chin. “Yes, truly exquisite.”
“You know what, Mr Largo. I’m getting rather bored of the girl’s face. I think it’s time she had a new one. If you really like it, you can have it.”
Pavi grinned. “That’s-a very generous, Mr President.”
“Just please don’t kill the girl. She won’t fight.” He said with a wink.
“Follow me, little one.”
The girl looked at the President and he nodded. She approached him quietly.
“Oh and Mr Largo, I don’t mind sharing. You can take her for a test run.”
“Maybe The Pavi shall.” He held out her arm for the girl to take. She just stared at the ground. He gripped her wrist and brought her upstairs to his room. The face truly would be perfect for his collection. The way the skin gently fell on the cheeks; the perfect nose structure. It truly was perfect.
“Go on, Bella. Lie on the bed.”
The girl obediently laid on the bed and spread her legs.
Pavi traced the features on her face. It was lovely. Pavi hiked up the girl’s dress.
She didn’t protest or fight; she just lay there.
“Bella, it’s-a much more fun if you fight or at least act like you’re enjoying it.”
“I’m sorry.” Came the small voice.
Pavi placed his hand on the inside of her thigh.
There was no reaction. She just laid there; staring at the ceiling.
Pavi sighed. “You’re really not-a making this fun, Bella.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t-a you like this, bella?” He stroked her thigh.
“Yes sir. Please give it to me sir.” She sounded like an emotionless robot; pre-programmed to say the lines.
Pavi sighed. He’d lost interest. He pulled down her skirt. “Come on, bella. I’ll just take your face and you can go back to your date. You’ve spoiled my mood.”
“Yes, sir.” The girl sat up. She didn’t react when he put the blade to her face.
“Questa bella sa davvero come uccidere l'umore (She really knows how to kill the mood).”
“Scusate. Cosa desidera che faccia, signore? (Sorry. What do you wish me to do, sir?)”
Pavi froze. “You understand Italian, Bella?”
“No.”
“You just-a spoke fluent Italian.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I’ve never learned Italian in my life.”
“Dove hai imparato a parlare italiano? (Where did you learn to speak italian?)”
“Non ho mai imparato a parlare italiano, signore. (I’ve never learned to speak Italian, sir.)”
It was strange. She spoke Italian fluently; the sentences were full, the grammar perfect. Definitely not someone who’s only just learned Italian. But her pronunciation was off. But pronunciation like that with that kind of fluency didn’t make sense. Almost like a child who was forced to learn another language but was never interested; so they learned half-heartedly but used it often enough, they could speak it.
“Farfallina bella e Bianca,”
“Vola vola mai si stanca.”
“Trotta trotta cavallino,”
“Porta a spasso il mio bambino.”
Children’s nursery rhymes. No teacher would teach an adult Italian with nursery rhymes. This meant that she must have learned it since she was a child.
“Why are you lying to me, Bella?”
“I’m not lying. I don’t speak Italian.”
“What’s your name?”
“Mara.”
“Come ti chiami?”
“Mara.”
Something felt wrong. Nothing she said made sense. She was a fluent speaker and yet… He knew only one person who spoke like she did. Someone who had perfect grammar and vocabulary but refused to pronounced things correctly out of spite. “Sorella?”
“Figlio unico. (Only child).”
Was she playing a prank of him? Was he overthinking things? Was he missing his sister so much, he’d fooled himself into believing this girl was his sister? Wait, Amber had a birthmark over her right upper back. “Turn around.” He unzipped the back of her dress partway. It wasn’t there. He was wrong. He was just fooling himself. He was wrong. He sighed and zipped her dress back up. “I’ve lost the mood. I’ll bring you back to the President, bella.”
The girl just nodded quietly.
He led her out of his room and they headed back towards the ballroom. He paused at the lift. “Aissèra, Nanninè, me ne sagliette. Tu saie addò?”
“Tu saie addò?”
“Addò ‘stu core 'ngrato cchiù dispietto. Farme nun pò!
“Farme nun pò.”
He paused.
“Addò lo fuoco coce, ma si fuie. Te lassa sta! Te lassa sta!” She continued singing quietly.
The lift doors opened. Pavi stared at the buttons. He pressed the floor where the medical wards were. That song. He knew that the song was popular. He knew he was basing it on false hope but… How many times had he and Amber sang that song to annoy Luigi? He hated the song with a passion thanks to them. And so they refused to stop singing it. It…it may be false hope. But Pavi had to be sure.
The doors opened at the medical wards. He stepped out of the lift, guiding Amber -no it couldn’t be Amber- out. They walked a couple of steps when the lift dinged once more.
“Mr Largo.”
Fuck.
“You were taking awhile so I came to find you. Where are you going?”
Pavi froze. He couldn’t make an enemy out of the President. That would be foolish. Not over this small hunch that this girl could be his sister. He had to be sure first. “Mr President. The face was-a so perfect, the Pavi couldn’t-a bear risk damaging it. The Pavi will get the Surgeons to remove the face.”
“That wasn’t the deal, Mr Largo. I would appreciate if you return my property to me now.”
He was trying to stop him. He was worried. The hunch became more and more likely by the minute. “Mr President,” He pouted. “You promised you would give The Pavi her face.”
“I’ve changed my mind. Pet, come here.”
Pavi gripped the girl’s wrist. “No bella, stay with me.”
“Please, let me go. He’ll get angry.”
“Nothing gets in The Pavi’s way of getting a beautiful face.”
“I’m warning you Mr Largo, give me the girl.”
The lift dinged once more. Luigi walked out. “Where the hell have you been hiding?” Luigi growled. He froze when he saw the President. “Mr President.”
“Brotherrrrrrr….” Pavi whined. He hoped Luigi would pick up that something was wrong. “He won’t-a let The Paviche have the girl’s-a faceeeeeee.”
Luigi stared at him. He sent a begging look to his brother that he hoped he would pick up on.
“Come now, Mr President. Let’s leave the freak to his games. The others want to start a high stakes poker game and would be delighted if you would join.”
The President hesitated but couldn’t do anything without drawing suspicion. He relented. “Give her back once you’re done.”
“Of-a course, Mr President.” Pavi held the girl close to him. “The Pavi tried her out. The Pavi understands-a why you’re so attached.”
The President smirked and followed his brother into the lift.
Pavi’s smiled dropped. He grabbed the girl’s wrist once more and dragged her forward.
She didn’t fight him.
He entered Dr Smith’s office. “I need someone who won’t say anything and I can trust. Someone who won’t report back to the President. I need you to call the nurses outside to prepare for a face removal surgery. Then I need you to run a DNA test.”
“What’s going on, Mr Largo?”
“I don’t know. I hope I’m wrong. But…”
He glanced at the young girl and did what he was told.
Pavi paced. He was wrong. He had to be wrong. This couldn’t be… He looked at the girl sitting there staring at the ground. That couldn’t be his sister. How did the President get his hands on her? A sick feeling filled him. What if she hadn’t ran away? What if she was taken and a false note was planted? But they searched everywhere. They couldn’t find traces or hints of anything. Unless… He looked at the girl. They did the modification as soon as they took her. No one would recognize her.
Dr Smith approached the girl with a needle.
Obediently, she turned her neck for him to inject her.
“Your hand will do, dear.”
“That isn’t Z?” Pavi’s chest clenched.
“No.”
“But…I’ve been good. He said I could have Z if I was good.”
“I just need a bit of blood.” Dr Smith took the sample. “What do you want me to run it against?”
“Amber’s blood.”
Dr Smith froze. He looked down at the girl then back at him. “Mr Largo, I don’t think-”
“I know. I know it doesn’t make sense. I just have this feeling. Please. Just run the test. If it’s wrong, it’s wrong. I need to know.”
Dr Smith nodded.
“No one else finds out about the test.”
“I’ll run it myself.”
“Thank you.”
Pavi watched Dr Smith leave then sat opposite Amber – the girl. “How-a long have you been with the President for?”
“2 years.”
Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Amber just did run away.
“You were-a scared when you said he’d get angry. Does he hurt you?”
“The master is giving me what I deserve.”
“And what exactly does he give you?”
The girl unzipped her dress. It dropped to the floor.
Pavi thought it was odd she would wear a floor-length, long sleeved ball gown. Now he understood. Bruises and burns decorated her body. Bones had been broken and healed back wrongly. On her stomach was a seared crest; the President’s crest.
“Do you remember your-a life, before meeting the President?”
“No.”
Dr Smith returned. He gave him a dark look. He passed him the file. Blood test 1 and 2: 100% match.
He would fucking kill him.
Pavi grabbed took out his knife. “Keep her here.” He headed to the lift. He saw red.
“Mr Largo!”
“Just stay with her.”
“You said President earlier. Are you insane? Are you going to kill the President?”
“He’s-a going to pay.”
“You go in there and stab him and his men will shoot you dead. I know you Largo’s think you’re invincible but he actually has more power than you.”
“I don’t care. I want him dead. He will pay for what he did to her. For what he tried to make me do.” Disgust and nausea filled Pavi.
“I didn’t say let him go.” Dr Smith held out a vial. “It’s untraceable and will mimic a heart attack.”
“He won’t suffer!”
“And you won’t get caught.”
Pavi paused for a moment. He took the vial and entered the lift. He wanted the bastard dead. He saw her broken face before him. He wanted him dead. He saw the way she just laid on the bed spreading her legs. He would kill him. He saw the bruises and broken bones on her body. He would make him die screaming.
The door opened and Pavi headed to where the others were playing poker. “Is-a there space for the Pavi?”
“Where is my pet?”
Rage filled Pavi. “She resting post-surgery. The Pavi promised he’ll give her back.”
“Get her here. I’ve been losing every hand.” He threw the cards on the table.
Pavi spotted The President’s drink on his left. It was too close to the other player. “Fratello, he’s-a hiding aces up his sleeve.” Pavi said pointing to the man to the right of Luigi.
“I’m not.”
Pavi watched Luigi shout at him. The others were distracted as well. Pavi slipped in the vial of poison.
Pavi headed to Luigi’s left, right between him and the President. He watched the President drink the whisky.
“Mr Largo, you really should try this blend of whisky. Valerio Adami. You’ll never find a blend like this again.”
Pavi’s eyes widened as The President held up the glass to his brother.
“The smell is certainly exquisite.”
“Now, Mr President. Are-a you really so-a cheap you won’t pour fratello his-a own glass?”
“Not cheap. Unfortunately, this is the last glass. You will never find this blend anywhere in the world again. It is the last of its kind.”
Luigi’s back was towards him. There was no way he could silently warn him. If he knocked the glass out of Luigi’s hands, he would lose the chance to kill the President. Not to mention cause suspicion.
Pavi sighed exaggeratedly. “But it’s almost like kissing each other. Maybe fratello has-a secret crush.”
“Pavi, shut the fuck up!”
The President rolled his eyes. “You’ve been unbelievably crude.”
“the Pavi is just-a satisfied with-a a good lay, no?”
“Ignore him. It’s how he’s like at home. He must have drank too much, he forgot that we have company.”
“But brotherrrrrrr….” Pavi whined. Why wasn’t his brother getting the hint? His brother must know something’s wrong right?
“Unfortunately Mr President, Pavi’s crude jokes aside, I have a thing with saliva and I would rather not share a glass.”
The President shrugged. “Your loss.”
“I’m sure it is.”
The others continued their game. Pavi just stood there; watching the game, eyes darting to the President. When?
The game ended and everyone excused themselves. Did Dr Smith lie? Did he trick him so he wouldn’t risk killing the President? He won’t let him go.
“Now, Mr Largo. Where is my…” His brow furrowed. He grabbed his chest as he gasped for air. “Help.” He fell to the ground, convulsing in pain. As his gasps became more drawn out and desperate; Pavi grinned at him. “Yo-” He gave a gasp and fell still. It was done. He was dead. It was finished.
Prompt: You break it, you bought it (auction, ransom, pursuit) Fandom:Naruto Pairing:Itachi/Sakura Rating:T Words:1494 Notes:I blame this entire drabble on @kendochick-moor and their Take My Picture story. I’ve been wholly absorbed by it over the past two days, and the longing that Itachi shows in there is so beautiful that I just wanted to help him. Then I realized this was supposed to be angst and I wasn’t going to make it any better. I’m sorry? Also, the setting is largely a stretch to reach the prompt again but I wanted to write this lol
———-
The smell of expensive perfume and overpriced wine flavor the air when Itachi steps into the room. Dozens of Konoha’s finest fill the space, offering fake laughs and false smiles. He blows a breath through his lips. I can do this, I don’t have a choice, he whispers, snagging a flute of champagne from a passing waiter. He doesn’t plan to drink it, but it gives him a clever excuse to avoid conversations that he doesn’t want to have. Family members dot the space, milling about before the art auction is set to begin.
Uncle Madara is speaking to someone that Itachi doesn’t recognize, but he’s pretty sure it’s a buyer from Kumo. Events like this are exclusive, but he wasn’t the one to vet the patrons. He adjusts the tuxedo that he’d been forced to wear. Mikoto had been adamant that Itachi at least put in an appearance. Though his mother doesn’t say it, she’s worried that he’ll be alone forever unless she orchestrates the perfect match. Being the eldest son carries responsibilities that Itachi never wanted.
“Are you here for pleasure, or duty,” a familiar voice asks by Itachi’s shoulder. He turns, unsurprised, to find Uncle Izuna running an appraising eye over him.
Itachi shrugs. “I’m here because mother said I had to be.,” he answers as honestly as he dares.
Izuna laughs, a deep, rich sound that pulls a flush onto Itachi’s cheeks. He’s not sure if he’s being made fun of or not, with Izuna it’s hard to tell. The man claps him on the back and nods. “Mikoto rarely takes no for an answer, does she?” When Itachi shakes his head, Izuno looks thoughtful. “I think you might be the only person to defy her and get away with it.”
The words carry a weight that Itachi is familiar with, but it stings all the same. Nearly all of the Uchiha have followed Uncle Madara into one branch or another of the judicial system. You can’t throw a stone in the room without hitting half a dozen lawyers, judges, and policy makers. It had been expected that Itachi would follow in his family’s footsteps. But, he’d wanted something different..
The badge on Itachi’s side feels like a brand, burning his hip. He hasn’t made detective yet, mostly because he refuses to use his family name for influence. It’s just one of the ways that he’s failed them. He’s twenty-nine and unmarried, with no kids to carry on the family name and no prospects. It isn’t Itachi’s fault that work keeps him too busy to breathe most days or that his standards are impossibly high. His mother has tried to set him up dozens of times, but it always falls through for one reason or another.
“I’m just here to put in an appearance,” Itachi hedges, lifting his drink to his lips. The champagne is too sweet for his tastes, but it gives him something to do with his hands.
Before Izuna can respond, he’s swept up in a conversation with a couple that Itachi doesn’t recognize. He uses the distraction to get away from the probing questions that he doesn’t want to deal with. If he can find his mother and satisfy the requirement of coming, he can leave. He needs to go through the notes on the robbery case down on—
Someone bumps Itachi’s side, startling him from his thoughts. “Excuse me, I was—”
The words die in Itachi’s suddenly dry throat. He finds himself staring into the most vivid emerald eyes he’s ever seen. They’re no less striking for their familiarity, though he hadn’t expected to see her here. “Haruno-sensei,” he breathes, chest tight. He gives himself a mental shake. “I’m terribly sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
Sakura’s laugh is light and airy as she waves away the apology. “No harm done,” she smiles and toys with one of her earrings. “I didn’t expect to find a familiar face here. These things are kind-of overwhelmingly snobbish aren’t they?”
Chuckling, Itachi nods. He’d never say those words in his family’s hearing, but the stuffy atmosphere at these events is exhausting. Itachi wears a mask when he comes here, pretending to be something he’s not. Sakura is a breath of fresh air in the midst of that. “Can I get you a drink,” he offers.
“I shouldn’t, I’m on call,” Sakura responds, tucking a pink curl behind one ear.
Itachi is transfixed by the movement of Sakura’s fingers, momentarily forgetting to listen to the words. He gives himself a mental shake then nods. “Of course. How have you been?”
Six months ago, Itachi had been called to the hospital to take statements after a mugging. Sakura had been the doctor on call that night. She’d had evidence and assumptions ready, and she was angry at the increase in violence she’d seen lately. Their first meeting had been a coincidence, the second and third were orchestrated. Or rather, Itachi looked for any excuse to stop by the hospital in uniform to catch a glimpse of the pink-haired medic when cases call for it.
Running his tongue across his lips, Itachi nods as Sakura tells him that the hospital has been busy. She hasn’t had much down time; in fact, this is the fist time that Sakura’s been out in weeks. In weeks, the words repeat like a gong in the back of his mind. Two weeks ago, there was a moment when Itachi thought that she was on the verge of saying something. He’d felt the tension between them, the tipping point underfoot, but he’d been too afraid to move and she’d been called away. He feels the same stress now.
Sakura is close enough that Itachi can smell the floral perfume she wore. The general buzz of the room makes it difficult to hear, but he has no trouble picking up her words. Something warm and unfamiliar swells in Itachi’s chest. He exhales. “Would you—”
“Itachi!” His confidence shatters at the call, crumbling to his feet like dust.
Itachi turns to find his younger brother cutting through the crowd. Sasuke wears his tuxedo better than Itachi, filling it out with wider shoulders and the confidence that always came so easy to him. He stops, glancing between Sakura and Itachi with a smile. “I see you’ve met Sakura.”
When Sasuke’s hand comes to rest low on Sakura’s back, Itachi’s heart stops. He feels like he’s been sucker punched, the air leaves his lungs with the same urgency. Sasuke brushes his lips against the same curve of cheek that Itachi had dreamed of touching. He swallows the pain and longing at once, pasting a smile on his face. If his family taught him anything, it’s the ability to fake happiness.
Sakura’s lips pull into a frown, and her eyes are far too knowing. Itachi takes a long gulp of his champagne to keep the emotion from being obvious. He’s had a lot of practice at that, too. The question hangs in the air when he’s finished, so Itachi tips his head. “I’ve met her, yes. She helped with a case a few weeks ago.”
Sasuke tips his head to the side, studying Sakura. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“I didn’t know,” Sakura breathes, voice small enough to get lost in the noise. Itachi manages to hear it over the roaring in his ears. “I didn’t know he was your brother.”
Sasuke says something else, but Itachi doesn’t catch it. He can’t escape the feeling that the ground just opened under him. Sakura’s eyes hold something like pity, and Itachi can’t bear that. He shakes his head. “It was so nice to meet you,” he offers, bowing to the pair. Manners are automatic, even with the pain blooming inside of him. “If you’ll excuse me. I need to get back to work.”
“You just got here,” Sasuke argues, but Itachi shakes his head. He should stay long enough to see which woman his mother has planned to match him with, but he can’t bring himself to face it. The sudden realization that he’s been nursing feelings for months leaves him breathless, especially to have them snatched away.
Itachi nods and turns away. He places his half full glass on the tray of a passing waiter and starts for the door. He almost makes it when an arm catches his. For half a heartbeat, he hopes to turn and find Sakura. But, it isn’t her.
Mikoto smiles and fuses over Itachi’s jacket, toying with the lapel. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you. There’s a girl here I want you to meet. Her family owns—”
The words are familiar, and Itachi lets them wash over him without speaking. He glances across the room only once and catches a flash of pink hair in the sea of black. Then, he closes the door on that forever and follows his mother back into the room. He has a duty to do.
The AACA Library is auctioning off a 1950 Chrysler:
Looking for a fun fifties driver? This lovely 1950 Chrysler Windsor Club Coupe could be yours! The AACA Library is auctioning off this historic vehicle on eBay right now, with proceeds benefitting our organization. It comes in a beautiful Racine Blue, the same color used to advertise the car in period sales literature. Speaking of sales literature, we will also be throwing in some vintage 1950 Chrysler catalogs and brochures, which make for great conversation starters during car shows!
I really didn’t want to do this, but our financial situation really stinks right now. (´._.`) There are also some revisions I’d like to make moving forward since I need to wait until December to “continue the set”…
So, my small PIDGE and SHIRO plush are up for auction, separately, on eBay. (Also hey! Nicer not-crappy-phone pics!)
Bidding is open in GALT’s 2022 Art & Accessories Auction and runs through February 13th at 9:00 pm central! This is our first auction of the new year and a great opportunity to help keep the GALT hounds in boarding warm!
Over the last two years, our on-line auctions have made a big difference in helping us cover routine medical and boarding expenses, plus a number of unexpected capital expenditures at our boarding facility. This Art & Accessories Auction is the first of several planned for 2022, and it’s just in time to help with the expenses related to restoring gas service at Houn House! Read more about the leak and ongoing efforts to keep the hounds warm here. We are currently awaiting quotes on laying about 300 feet of new gas line or, alternatively, switching to propane.
You can be a part of the solution by bidding generously in this auction. This auction features many unique artworks, jewelry, and other accessories from wonderful donors and offers you a great source for gifts for you or your family and friends! And if you don’t need more things right now, you can still help in the auction by clicking on the green donate button on the auction page. We truly need your help in raising funds to keep our kennel hounds warm and cozy! Many thanks to all, and now warm up those bidding fingers for some amazing deals!
Witch Type/s: Astronomancer, Hedge Witch Familiar: Snowy Owl Primal Forces: Winter, The Celestial Bodies, The Veil Crystals: Moonstone, Citrine, Jet, Garnet Artifact- The Garnet Arm: Can reach beyond the Veil Between and pull things through into the physical world.
This witch studies the stars and times her magical workings according to their alignments and positions, gaining power and insight into possible future events. When they alighn just right and when the days are short, she can even reach and see Beyond, through the veil and into the spirit world.
Released in 2003, the Leica MP is the most recent of the company’s storied line of M-Series film cameras. This Unique Gold version might be the most exclusive. All its metal parts have been galvanically gold-plated, while the grip area has been given an Ostrich leather covering.
It’s devoid of engravings, save for the hidden serial number on the winding lever, and comes with a special black Elmar-M 2.8/50mm lens with gold and red paint-filled engravings.
Created as a collaboration between Leitz Photographica Auction and Leica AG, it arrives with a certificate of authenticity and is up for auction now with all proceeds going to a non-profit organization in Austria and Germany for charitable purposes.
Well, the “I was laid off and now I’m selling my paintings at a drastically low price” auction continues this week. It’s not a great title for an auction, I’ll admit but I currently have 60 paintings up for auction, which is set to expire on Saturday.
I have become the proud owner of a lovely pansexual cuckolding slave in London. He is in dire need of a real life Master or Mistress so I am auctioning the use of him out to whoever promises me to train him the best.
You can be a switch like me and use him yourself or offer him to your own Master or Mistress as a sign of devotion. However he does fit in very well at the absolute bottom of the hierarchy.
He has only ever been with women but is very interested in me finding him a Master so all applications are taken into consideration.
You will NEVER see embroidery this cheap from me. Ever. I don’t even offer it yet on my commissions. If you want a one of a kind embroidery or digital piece, or if you want some SUPER cool plants? Go on the reptile shows Facebook page and place a bid!
Your commission (at least from me) does not have to be a reptile or amphibian, it can be your dog or cat etc.
The sixth Lindt GOLD BUNNY Celebrity Auction launched March 10 in support of Autism Speaks. This year’s auction has more than 60 actors, athletes, supermodels, chefs, singers and other top personalities who have lent their signatures to the cause by autographing porcelain Lindt GOLD BUNNY figures. All of the bunnies are auctioned off online atLindtGOLDBUNNYAuction.com from March 10-20, with 100 percent of proceeds benefiting Autism Speaks.
Michelle Williams auction ends on March 20th. #michellewilliams #autism #charity #lindt #lindtgoldbunny #ebay #auction #autismspeaks #destinyschild Bid today!!!
Our charity auction is LIVE! Find something new for your Daredevil collection while supporting an amazing org - 100% of the proceeds will go to Fighting Blindness. Reblog to spread the word and bid now!
