#I really do not want to pay an er fee if they think she does need to be seen by an actual vet

[singlethread]

Can yall send Rini good vibes

[kirain]

Your healthcare isn't free you stupid fucking canuck! You pay for it with your taxes! We don't! 🇺🇸

I don't know why so many Americans throw this out there like it's some big secret we aren't aware of. We know it's funded by our taxes. When we say "free", we mean we don't have to worry about walking out of the hospital with a $900,000 bill after giving birth or paying $40 to hold our newborn after a c-section. It's "free" in the sense that anyone and everyone is entitled to good healthcare and can visit the hospital whenever they need to.

That said, I'm not going to pretend I know everything about American taxation, but I do know you pay for your healthcare via insurance. Meaning if someone doesn't have a good plan or make decent money, they're screwed. In Canada, that doesn't happen. For example, when my dad was diagnosed with cancer, he needed multiple treatments and surgeries for four long years. Want to know how much those treatments cost him? $0. The only thing any of us had to pay for was the $7 parking fee when we went to visit him at the hospital.

In contrast, I personally know Americans who have, sadly, had to file for bankruptcy because of their cancer treatments. I know an American construction worker who lost three of his fingers on a job, but because his insurance didn't cover the full cost of reattaching all of them, the doctors actually made him choose which one to save. Imagine having to do that. In the end, he chose to save his middle finger and lose his ring and pinky finger. I know an American who got stuck with a $50,000 hospital bill because he had a heart attack. I know Americans who have tried to ration their INSULIN because they were worried about their next payment.

I remember when this made the news, everyone was acting like it was "cute". It's not fucking cute, it's dystopian as hell! A seven-year-old American girl who needed brain surgery raised her own money and relied on donations because her mother's insurance didn't cover the cost. Are you insane? This isn't "cute". This shouldn't be celebrated. She shouldn't have had to worry about this. She is a child who was dying.

I also don't understand why so many Americans seem to think our taxes are astronomical, when in reality you actually pay more taxes than we do. From what I understand, the max tax in America is 37%. For us, the max is 33%. That max also only applies if you make over $200,000 a year. Most people pay between 15-20.5% in taxes. I certainly don't pay 33%. I don't know anybody who does. So you pay taxes plus insurance. Granted you can claim more at the end of the year, but honestly ... so? America spends more on healthcare as a share of the economy (nearly twice as much as the average OECD country) yet it has the lowest life expectancy and highest suicide rates among the eleven nations. You also have the highest chronic disease burden and an obesity rate that is two times higher than the OECD average. Thanks, but I don't mind claiming less on my taxes.

So now the argument is, "Why should I have to pay for someone else's healthcare?!" I hear this one a lot once we reach this point. Putting aside the fact that you can barely pay for your own, it's a benefit for the country as a whole. There's nothing wrong with being individualistic, but no country is truly individualistic. We all rely on each other to keep the country afloat. Not only that, but what's wrong with helping your fellow man? And if you really are that selfish, just remember that free healthcare benefits YOU as well. Like when my dad got cancer, like when my sister almost died from a childhood fever, like when I came out backwards and jaundiced when I was born and had to be incubated for several days. The money pooled from all of our taxes makes sure we're all taken care of.

The other argument I hear at this point is wait times. I admit that for a while I believed this one, but as it turns out American and Canadian wait times are almost exactly the same. The average ER wait time in America is anywhere from 40 minutes to 4 hours. In Canada, it's anywhere from one hour to 6 hours. Not that much of a discrepancy, and I've personally never had to wait anywhere near 6 hours. I think the most I ever waited was four hours when I dislocated my toe. As for the claim that Canadians run to America en masse for specialists? Well, that's quite simply a myth. While there are indeed some Canadians who do that, it's mostly the wealthy who feel justified in skipping the line. We also have those services here, where those who are better off can pay out of pocket for private healthcare.

Now to throw a big monkey wrench into the works, probably the most shocking statistic is that Americans actually flock to Canada for affordable Healthcare. In 2014 (which is the most up-to-date data), roughly 52,000 Canadians went to the US seeking medical care; mostly prescriptions. In contrast, over one million Americans came to Canada. That number doesn't even include how many Americans went to these countries:

Anything you may have heard about Canadian healthcare is just a lie perpetuated by your government because they don't want you to see the benefits of a universal healthcare system. And not even just Canadian healthcare--the same system is used in the UK, Germany, Australia, Sweden, Switzerland, France, Norway, Denmark, Japan, the Netherlands, Iceland, New Zealand, etc. I'm not saying it's flawless, there are certainly aspects that can be improved, but I'll take it any day over the mess you have going on. 🇨🇦

No. In all honesty, this isn't about what country is "better". I have many American friends that I love and care about, and I would very much like to see them have access to free, sufficient healthcare.

[doberbutts]

Anyway things I think all breeders should do or I personally wouldn’t consider them for my own dogs:

keep a detailed pedigree of at least 5 generations regardless of purebred or mixed breed status for each of their owned and produced dogs

health test at least the bare minimum for their individual breed (if purebred) or of all involved breeds (if mixed)- better practice is to fully health test above and beyond bare minimum by also including other known, testable concerns that maybe are not specifically required but are a good idea to do

support their buyers! I have paid 700 for Tater’s neuro freakout and that was all done within the first 24 hours and the only reason I even paid that is because I got the bill for treatment before her breeders could give me their credit card number, which is now attached to her file and they pay all neuro-related expenses. I pay for medication because it’s $12 for 6 months but they offered to do that for me too. Tater also was free rather than cost-of-spay fee as a result because I paid more than what her spay would cost at the ER. This is really above and beyond but it’s made my standards raise quite a lot.

be careful who they sell their dogs to. If their dogs are constantly winding up in shelters or in byb or puppy mill hands then they clearly are just selling to the first buyer with money or worse, selling through a pet store, and it only worsens our shelter dogs problem

take their dogs back for any reason whatsoever or at least help the owner find a new home. So many people I know have been abandoned by their breeders when health issues or personal problems come up and the dog has to go. When I was in my car accident, Creed’s breeder super didn’t have space for him and she still offered to take him for however long I needed to recover. The chihuahuas’ breeders and Sushi’s breeder likewise have told me multiple times that even if it’s just to board my girls over the weekend, if I need them to be somewhere that’s not home they are happy to hold onto them for me for as long as I need.

does breed-specific, proveable temperament testing or working aptitude testing if purebred, or actually does the thing they’re saying they’re breeding towards if not. Nothing that annoys me more than people going “I don’t need a show dog I do WORKING DOG STUFF” to justify their breedings and then their idea of “working dog stuff” is like. Dog sometimes does tricks, looks cool on social media, maybe gets a FastCAT title.

This is not Jaz Is A Purebred Snob (hi my name is Jaz and I think terrier mixes are super cute and want about a billion, I keep heavily considering a mal/whippet if dobe plans don’t work out and talking myself out of it for the sake of my chihuahuas, and I think the most successful doberman outcross thus far is a dobe/bandog cross that I’m closely watching grow up) it’s Jaz Was Raised Really Fucking Amish And Has Seen Some Shit re: Puppy Mills. Personally I really don’t fucking care what other people do but if folks are gunna bug me about whether or not I like a breeder (or a breeding program) if it’s missing one of these things the answer is probably no.

[urimaginespimp]

Cowboy Like Me

Alfie x Reader

A/N: For some reason, the moment I heard this song from Evermore, my mind just immediately went to Alfie and a possible fic, so here you go!

--------

You were a traveler always yearning for a good life, never staying in one location for too long.

Despite being unexpected, your mother who was a high-class prostitute loved you unconditionally and taught you everything you needed to know – how to act like a proper lady, what men wanted to hear, how to wrap them around your finger, and how to detach yourself from falling inlove with them.

“But you have to promise me you’d lead a different life.” She told you when you were in your teens.

“But mama, what use would be what you’ve taught me?” your doe-eyed innocent face asked her.

“Men are as gullible outside a brothel, dear.” She pats your head lovingly. Smiling at your confused expression, she assured you. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

For years, you two only had each other and you loved it that way. That was until the flu took her and you were left on your own.

Taking what little you have, you set out to make a living for yourself. It still took you a lot of getting used to a new lifestyle, but slowly you found it easier and easier to sweet talk every rich man you gave attention to into doing and giving you what you want without having to give your body. Maybe expensive possessions for you to sell, or the easy cash they wouldn’t think twice on giving you. Every town unvisited was wealth missed for you.

August in Liverpool was chilly. Thankful that you get to wear a coat over your dress, you smiled at the man guarding the infamous Eden Club as he let you in.

It was nothing you haven’t been to before – expensive interior, everybody dressed to the tens, and filled with rich lonely men. Only that you heard this was ran by Italians. Making your way in the middle towards the bar, you smiled sensing that heads turned your way.

By the bar you sat on one of the stools, enjoying a drink. Glancing to your left, you caught the eye of a man five seats away from you. He was clearly staring at you and liked what he was seeing.

He looks rich enough, so you offered a shy smile. He was about to get up from his seat when a, tall, buff man with a cane approached him. He had a beard, and was dressed nicely with black cape toe boots.

Not liking when people take your prey away, you decided to let it slide and look for another thinking that he didn’t know what he’s done. But as soon as your missed conquest was preoccupied with ordering another drink, the man with the beard turned your way with a smirk and winked at you.

He knew what he’s done.

Annoyed, you still gave him a sly smile, all thought of looking for another man went out the window. Three things were clear to him: You were beautiful, you didn’t know you almost encountered Darby Sabini, and that you didn’t know who the hell he himself was. For no sane person who have heard about him wouldn’t even dare look him in the eye nor smile.

When Sabini announced that he was retiring for the night, he bid the man goodbye, told Ollie to head home, and decided to approach you.

“You’re not from around er, luv?” He asked you. Standing in front of you now, it was undeniable that this man is way more handsome than the first one.

“Do first timers in this town get a free drink from you?” You smiled, peering at him through your lashes.

“I can buy you the whole bar, lass. But you’re gonna have to dance with me first.” He chuckled, extending his arm to you.

“Dancing is a dangerous game.” You said, taking his hand anyway, thinking that this would just be like one of your many nights.

Walking to the dancefloor, a slow tune was being played by the band. Taking both of your hands, he rested them on his shoulders, and you both started swaying to the tune.

“Dancing should be the least of your worries, luv. What’s dangerous was the man you were giving that pretty smile of yours earlier.” He explained.

“I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve.” You answered, shrugging.

“Mmm. Are you some sort of seducing bandit?” he asked. That was the first thing that went to his mind. A bandit.

“Why, do you think I’m out to seduce you?” you replied slyly.

“Takes one to know one, dear.” You both chuckled.

“You don’t strike me as a bandit, Mr…”

“Solomons. Alfie Solomons.” He finally introduced himself.

“Alfie.” You said. He tried to act like the mere mention of his name from your lips affected him. “I’m just a traveler, making ends meet by telling the rich folks anything they wanna hear.” You said quietly, looking him in the eye.

“A traveler… like one of em cowboys then?” He bluntly asked, making you giggle.

“If you see it that way.” You shrugged, chuckling.

“What do you tell those poor blokes?” His curiosity got the best of him.

“Hmm…” you ran your hands lower to rest on his chest. “Maybe how nights like this could lead them to something nice, and for the lonelier ones, I make them think it could lead to something more. But the thing is, Mr. Solomons, I have yet to meet someone who made me forget my mother’s most important rule.”

“And that is?”

“Not falling in love.” You gave him a sweet smile.

“You’re a cruel vixen, luv.” He said, looking at you intensely. Alfie wasn’t at all intimidated of you. He never wanted love. All the money, business, and fancy cars were enough for him. Forever is the sweetest con, he’d say. But something about you also intrigued him. Maybe because you were all to similar.

“I often just meet with ambitious men and tell em I’m the way forward.” He told you.

“Well, are you?” You asked, as his head got closer to you. Bringing his lips closer to your ear, he whispered.

“Only if they pay for it.” Sending you shivers down your spine.

--------

That night, he personally escorted you back to where you were staying over.

” Will I be seeing you again?” You asked, not trying to sound desperate. There was nothing wrong with making friends, you assured yourself.

“I know who owns this place. I’ll call in some time for you.” He answered, tucking your lose hair behind.

“That is, if I’d still be here by then.” You smiled.

“Well. Who am I to stop a traveler.” He sighed, masking his disappointment. “Got something to help me remember you by, luv?” He asked jokingly.

“it’s your call, Mr. Solomons. What do you want?” You whispered looking up to meet his gaze. For the first time in in your months of travels, something in you was yearning to stay longer.

Maybe it was the way your eyes were full of stars from looking up to him in the night, or that really liked you, but Alfie found himself leaning down to meet your lips. It wasn’t long ‘til you were responding. It was soft, but probably the most intense kiss you ever had, leading you both inside.

Clothes were taken off and thrown all over the room, somehow getting his boots of with ease, he kicked them beneath your bed and lead you both on top of the sheets. As sweet as it was, you both knew it was one for parting your separate ways.

Against your better judgement, you found yourself staying for two more nights in that guest house in hopes of him calling. But it never came.

That was a month ago and that night was still fresh in your memory. It didn’t go the way you expected, but meeting a man such as Alfie Solomons was way better.

You were in a town called Camden. You’ve had several conquests for the last month from other towns - typical older men that you’ve swindled into believing you were smitten by them.

Walking along its streets, you didn’t know this was where the Alfie Solomons resided. That was until you were in a small café and you overheard a group of ladies talking about him passing through the town that morning.

“I thought he never leaves that bakery of his.” One of them said.

“That man needs a wife. Maybe then he’d actually be less brooding.”

Finishing up, you paid your fee. You needed to leave his town immediately. Because as much as he made you feel things you never thought you’d deal with, you’ve decided that he was bad for your ambitions.

Walking briskly through the streets of Camden, you were only a few houses down to your guesthouse when you stopped on your tracks.

By the door of it was no other than Alfie, expectantly waiting for you, his left hand holding the leash of a dog.

“When Ollie told me you went into town last night I almost didn’t believe him.” He started, slowly walking towards you.

Seeing the man again made you forget whatever it was you warned yourself about him.

“I never thought I’d meet you here.” You answered in all honesty.

“Don’t worry. I’m not one to accuse ladies of stalking.” You both chuckled.

“I guess I won’t be having any luck in Camden too, huh?”

Whoever and whatever goes in and out of Camden was his business. So, when Ollie told him that the lady from Liverpool was seen entering a guesthouse last night, he took the chance of looking for you that morning after a sleepless night clouded by you.

“Perhaps you will.” He answered.

“Oh?”

“Luv, I’m going out a limb here when I say you can’t deny there’s something ‘er.” He told you seriously.

“But you never called.” That was all you could say. You couldn’t even deny what he said.

“All coz I called too late. Ya never heard of all that no calling til three days? Ollie advised me so I won’t look too desperate. Almost fired the lad.” He chuckled.

“Well, what does Camden have to offer the bandit?” You smiled teasingly.

“Everything you want so long as you stay with me, luv. We could be the way forward.” He convinced you, taking a step closer.

“And?” tilting your head to the side, trying not to laugh at him using that line with you.

“And I know I’ll pay for it.” He rolled his eyes before taking you head with his free hand and crashed his lips to yours.

He was the lone exception to your mother’s rule, and the one to help you lead a different life. You knew you were never gonna love again.

[adenei]

Fake It Til You Make It - Ch. 2

AO3 || FFN 

(”I want to be a musician, okay?”)

“Hi Mum! Hi Aunt Muriel. If you’ll just excuse me, I’m quite knackered. I’m going to go—” Ginny tried to skirt by them and make her way up the stairs. 

“Not so fast, Ginevra,” Aunt Muriel said with her nose up in the air. “We have matters to discuss.”

“Aunt Muriel, I know what you’re here for, and with all due respect, being a debutante is not who I am or who I want to be. I want to play football, not dress in layers of tulle and whatever that stuff under the skirt is called,” Ginny tried to explain for the hundredth time.

“Crinoline,” her mother corrected her. “Ginny, just sit down and hear your aunt out. Please?” Her mum was giving her a look that Ginny knew not to defy, no matter how rotten she was feeling.

“Ginevra, I’m well aware that the debutante lifestyle does not fit your...personality, but I am here to offer you a deal,” Aunt Muriel began.

Ginny raised her eyebrows, knowing her aunt always drove a hard bargain. She wondered what was in it for her since Muriel always had a trick up her sleeve to manipulate those to get her way. Unfortunately, being the only Weasley daughter meant there was no one else she could persuade to take her place.

“If you participate in the season, without complaint, I will pay the boarding fees for you to stay on campus at Beauxbatons this year.”

Ginny couldn’t keep her jaw from dropping. Her aunt never offered anything like this. Why was it so important to Muriel for Ginny to participate in the debutante season? Aside from the fact that she was the prime age to participate, it was often a way for the teens to find a partner, one of class, and better standing. Honestly, the whole thing was bloody archaic, and she had no idea why it still existed.

That’s when it hit her. She was a bargaining chip. Muriel would use her to ‘restore her family’s ‘place’ in society. You’ve got to be kidding me, Ginny thought. Sure, her parents didn’t make a ton of money, but they got by. Ron had just received a full scholarship to attend Hogwarts for their music program, and all of her older brothers were proving successful in their lines of work. They didn’t need Ginny to become a pawn in some ruddy game her aunt wanted to play.

“At the very least, please think about it, Ginevra. You are a natural beauty, and you could perform quite well if you allowed yourself to take a chance. As your family’s only daughter, you owe it to them to partake in at least one season. And, since that blasted football team has been disbanded, you’ve got nothing standing in your way this year.”

Anger flowed through her veins as Ginny felt as though she was going to explode. So her aunt had been behind eliminating the girl’s football team! All as a power play so that Muriel could live vicariously through Ginny. This was all so unfair! She needed the professional teams to start scouting her this year, and now all her chances were being thrown out the window at becoming a professional football player because her bloody aunt wanted her to become a debutante.

“No,” Ginny said fervently. 

There was absolutely no way she was going to let Aunt Muriel manipulate her life. Not in a million years. Her mother put her head in her hands, and Ginny felt terrible for a moment. Mum would understand, though. Ginny had goals and plans for her future, none of which involved becoming a debutante or a trophy wife. That was not who she was, nor would she ever be.

Aunt Muriel let out a long sigh. “I had a feeling you’d say that. You’re lucky I won’t be deterred so easily. I will give you two days to think about this, Ginevra. Perhaps you’ll change your mind. What else are you going to do this school year without that useless sport?”

“It’s not a useless sport, Aunt Muriel!” Ginny argued.

“Be that as it may, I know how much you’d love to live on campus with your friends. I can give you that experience. You have my number if you change your mind.” There was an air of finality in Muriel’s voice that told Ginny the conversation was over.

“Does that mean I can be excused now?” she asked through gritted teeth.

Her mother nodded exasperatedly as Ginny stormed up the stairs. She tossed her things in her own room before heading up to the house’s top floor, where Ron’s attic room was. They both shared a mutual hatred for Aunt Muriel, and if anyone would understand her frustration, it was him.  

Ginny walked into Ron’s room and immediately started venting. “Ugh! I can’t believe her nerve” Ron jumped. 

“Whose nerve?”

“Aunt Muriel! Showing up here with those ridiculous dresses and trying to bribe me into joining the debutante season! I even think she had a hand in disbanding the girl’s football team at Beauxbatons. Can you believe it?”

“That’s ridiculous, Gin. There’s no way she has that much influence, even if she’s vindictive enough to do what it takes to get her way.”

“Why are you not more upset about this?”

“I am! I’m just, er, busy,” Ron said.

“Busy with what? Is that a bag you’re packing? I thought you weren’t leaving for Hogwarts until Monday.”

“I, er,” Ron stammered.

“Ron, what are you planning?” Ginny said as she closed his bedroom door. 

Despite being polar opposites, they never kept anything from each other. She always knew when he was up to something, and he knew the same. 

He rolled his eyes. “Alright, fine, but you can’t tell anyone!” he warned.

“When have I ever given away your secrets before? You know you can trust me.”

“I’m going to be a bit late for the start of term at Hogwarts.”

“Why?” Ginny asked skeptically.

“I’ve been invited to this music competition in Germany. It’s for two weeks, but I have to go, Gin.”

“But you just got a full ride to Hogwarts for your music! Won’t you be jeopardizing that if you take off for two weeks instead of starting on time?”

“Not if someone covers for me and says I’m sick or something. Maybe I’ve got mono or the flu, or...” he shrugged, not bothering to put more thought into a plan.

Not that she wanted to change the topic, but his mention of the ‘kissing’ disease reminded Ginny of her run-in with Lavender. “Speaking of, have you talked to your wretched girlfriend lately?”

Ron winced. “Er, no, I’ve been avoiding her.”

“You don’t say. Must be why I got ambushed on my way back from school. If you’re going to chuck her, then you might as well do it sooner rather than later.”

“Eh, I’ll take care of it when I get back.”

“I don’t understand you. If Mum and Dad find out, they’ll pull you out of Hogwarts before you even have a chance to start!”

“So don’t let them find out. Please, Gin! I need to do this! This could be my shot at getting my music out there. It’s not that I don’t want to explore the classical route, but I don’t know how much I’m going to be able to focus on my own music at school.” Ron was begging Ginny now.

“How? I don’t suppose I could just dress up and pose as you for two weeks,” Ginny said in a bewildered tone.

Despite how ridiculous the statement sounded, the idea hit her full force. But there was no way she’d be able to pull it off, was there? Probably not. Unless….

“I don’t care how you do it. You just need to make sure Mum and Dad don’t find out. I’m going to tell them the auditions are tomorrow, so I’m leaving today. My flight leaves in five hours, so I have to get going.”

“How are you even paying for all of this?” 

“I’m staying at a hostel once I’m there, but Bill lent me money for the flight. I can pay him back if I place in the competition, and if not, then I’ll find a part-time job to pay him back.” Ron hoisted his bag on his back. “Listen, Ginny, I’ve got to go. The bus to London leaves in a half hour, so I really have to go.” He stuck one leg out his open window.

“Why are you going out the window,” she asked him slowly.

“Because Mum and Dad thought I left hours ago. I owe you one, alright?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Just let me know when you get there, okay? And don’t get into any more trouble.”

“Thanks, Gin, you’re the best!” Ron said as he disappeared down the makeshift fire escape.

As Ginny watched him go, the wheels were turning in her mind. Ron was leaving for two weeks. That was just enough time for her to pose as her brother and make the Hogwarts team. Then, she could play in the Beauxbatons game and stick it to Coach Snape and Michael when Hogwarts won. 

She’d show everyone that she was just as good as the boys! Now, how could she just disappear from the house for two weeks? And that’s when it hit her: Aunt Muriel’s offer. She could totally juggle the boy’s training schedule and the debutante program. It’d be tricky, but doable. And she wouldn’t have to try that hard with Ron’s schedule. It’d only be a week of classes, and hopefully, she could fudge her way through the music courses.

I can totally do this, Ginny thought. She headed down the stairs to see if Aunt Muriel was still there to change her answer, and if all went well, she’d be on her way to visit Fred and George next.

[acelikesturtles]

“What’re You In For?”

Prompt: #22 (Two Miserable People at the same Wedding) - Raphael x Olivia

Warnings: Light Alcohol Mention, Cursing (duh, its Raphael)

Word Count: 1,568

A/N: This is from an ask game that I reblogged a couple days ago. It took me a while to finish editing it because I really and truly prefer quality of my work over quantity, plus I needed to find the right soundtrack for this so I could focus 110%. I hope you like it @headhalfling!

As much as Raphael cherished April as a friend and Casey as his “fourth brother”, he had despised almost every last moment of the last 8 hours. The tie around his neck was too tight and the suit that April requested be tailored to his exact measurements still felt like it was smothering him. When he had finished the first suit fitting at the lair he had figured that all it would take to break free from this prim and proper prison was a well-timed stretch. That is, until Leo had very gently patted him on the shoulder and reminded him that they were putting all these fancy trimmings on for April and Casey, and that after the "incident" at their engagement party, Raph would likely do better blending in.

Oh yeah, that.

As if the clothing and the standard wedding formalities weren't enough to bother Raph, he had promised April he would only have one glass of champagne after the last time. Out of respect (and maybe a fair deal of embarrassment) following the unforeseen events of the engagement party, he decided that it might be best to stay alert, especially since being a ninja and all doesn't really pay in hard cash. Or at least...not enough cash that could cover the fees associated with a professional carpet cleaner.

One finger lazily circled around the brim of his empty champagne glass. Amongst all the chatter in the room his eyes remained fixed on Casey and April. He couldn't tell if he was trying to read their lips and decipher whatever lovey-dovey conversation they were having or perhaps just trying to understand the ins and outs of the event in general. He couldn't really say that he'd ever felt in love, and maybe he was just being incredibly cynical, but this felt like a strange way to celebrate it; stuffy outfits and distant cousins you've only seen twice in your life didn't seem like a celebration of love or a union of two families but like a strange ritual that he couldn't quite wrap his mind around.

Just as his brain was finally translating something admittedly pretty juicy happening between the happy couple, someone shuffled past him and took a seat beside him, drawing his attention reluctantly away. She didn't seem to be paying him much attention, instead tapping away at her phone rather furiously with one hand while brushing stray strands of blue hair away from her eyes. A deep sigh escaped her lips as she set her phone face down on the table and grabbed the entirely unclaimed glass of champagne sitting in front of her place mat, then tapped her fingers rhythmically on the sides.

"What're you in for?" She said playfully then took a small sip from the glass.

He laughed, then leaned back in his chair. "Does 'best man' count?"

"Hey, sure, I'm not the police. Besides, I knew that already." Once again pushing her hair from her eyes, she crinkled her nose when she smiled. "You guys were, er, I guess--you are--kind of distinct. Kinda cool if you ask me."

She set the champagne glass back down, before gazing up at her new conversation partner. Her striking hazel eyes connected with his own and caused him pause for a moment. Again, full of surprises, she didn't seem to react in fear or shock so much as intrigue at his physical appearance. He couldn't say that this wasn't a first, all night long at both the engagement party and this reception he and his brothers had been getting unwarranted looks that definitely indicated the unspoken feelings of the person staring. This, however, was different. As for how, he wasn't quite sure, but for now he simply felt unusually awkward and unable to figure out what he was supposed to say next. Mikey was always the better one at socializing. It was in his blood. Raph on the other hand, despite all the time he had to learn, was about as good at talking to humans as a fish was at flying.

He glanced down at the name tag that had been so carefully placed in front of where she sat before taking a shot in the dark that maybe she was the table-mate that hadn't showed up yet. Awfully late for her to arrive now...but not impossible.

"Umm...are you Lorraine Bri-...Brinch-...you know what, fuck, not even trying to pronounce that."

"What?" She followed where his eyes led to the cutesy black and gold calligraphy neatly engraved on a piece of folded card stock. She frowned and shook her head. "No, that's not me. My name's Olivia. Does make me wonder who that is though, and why they didn't show up. Kind of disrespectful, to not even RSVP honestly."

"Well what about you?" Raph countered. As if he even cared about this random other woman's dignity when he didn't even know who she was beyond her impossible to pronounce last name. "I didn't see you until just now."

"I’ve been here,” she responded. She broke eye contact with Raph and began picking at the skin surrounding her fingernails. She had noticeably callused fingers which matched the overall aesthetic of her chipped and unpainted fingernails. “I just don’t really want to be here. I don't typically like stuffy events like this, as much as I'm really glad to see Casey and April together. These things make me anxious, and I would drive home, but that wouldn’t be cool because I’m the photographer’s ride." She gestured vaguely towards the woman in a pantsuit with long black hair that had been tirelessly capturing every last angle possible of the bride, groom, and bridal party.

"Hey, uh...me too." He answered. He was starting to feel anxious too seeing the way that she picked at her fingernails. “These events, they aren’t really for me. This tie ain’t doing it for me either, its kinda been choking me,” He gave her a small smile, hoping that it might ease her mind to have someone sympathize with her, even if it wasn’t entirely on the same page. Again, Mikey would’ve been better at this kind of thing than he was, but it helped that the connection between them was already sort of going well. Well, aside from him accusing her of being late to the wedding, that is.

Olivia’s eyes narrowed on his black and white striped tie. She pressed her lips together, holding back a smile while a short breathy laugh escaped her nostrils. “Well, there’s your problem. You tied it too tight, dummy. Here-”

Her callused hands reached up and began loosening the fabric fastened around his neck. Earlier when he had tied it himself he hadn’t bothered to ask for help, assuming that this was just how ties were supposed to feel, but the gradual feeling of relief that came with the freedom to move his neck like normal was ethereal.  While she couldn’t fix the constricting fit of his suit, having the tie a little looser was already helping him feel more relaxed and adjusted. Their eyes locked again as she gently pulled her hands away from the satin, although this time something felt different. Like he was sweating. Everywhere.

With the relief of one discomfort came the creation of another. He cleared his throat.

“Thanks.”

“Hey, anytime, I learned how to tie those for a friend of mine a couple years ago. You should’ve asked for help from somebody sooner.”

Now he was beginning to feel really embarrassed. Did she think he was stupid? Or incapable of learning how to do normal human stuff like tying a goddamn tie? “Nah, they’re busy, didn’t wanna bother ‘em.” Now that made him at least seem noble.

“Well you weren’t bothering me.” She smiled and raised an eyebrow. “I doubt you would’ve bothered your brothers by asking for help, their ties don’t seem to be bothering them.

Fuck.

Still feeling sweaty, Raph shrugged and chuckled. “Awright, fine, then I’ll call you next time I gotta wear this damn thing, yeah?”

Once the words had escaped his mouth he realized how silly they must’ve sounded, but he didn’t take them back. He wasn’t an entirely socially inept fool, that was Donnie’s job. She paused for a moment at his words and began searching his eyes for an answer that he didn’t know he had in him. This was uncomfortable and sweaty and hot...but he kind of liked it. Raph swallowed and broke eye contact with her unceremoniously then twisted the watch on his left wrist back into center position.

“Maybe I will.”

Olivia reached into her silver crossbody that until now, had been closely kept by her side entirely untouched. She uncapped a black ballpoint ink pen and scribbled a string of numbers onto a blue sticky note that had already been lightly doodled on (likely during the ceremony) with rough sketches of motorcycles juxtaposed against delicate daisies and baby’s breath she had likely seen in April’s bouquet. She tore the sticky note off and nervously stuck it onto his placemat. With a quick swig of the rest of the champagne left in the glass she had claimed, she stood up from her chair and gave him one last smile before hurriedly heading off in the direction of her photographer friend, leaving Raph with more questions than he did answers.

Maybe this whole lovey-dovey shit wasn’t so dumb after all.

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Three Hundred Forty-Eight: Lost Again ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uchiha Itachi, Hyūga Neji ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Catch ‘Em All ] [ AO3 Link ]

 All he wanted to do was impress her...and now they’re lost.

Admittedly, it isn’t the first time Sasuke’s gotten turned around in the Safari Zone. It’s huge! And though divided into sections with paths, it’s so easy to forget where you’ve come from, let alone where you were going. And given that he’s lived in Fuchsia his entire life, of course he’s been here a number of times.

And nearly every time, he’s gotten lost.

So, in reality...this time, he’s lost again.

But perhaps, a bit of backstory.

Hinata’s long-awaited visit from Cerulean had been going pretty well. Sasuke already helped her catch a Goldeen, and Neji almost beat Fugaku for his gym badge. The Uchiha patriarch had agreed to train him a bit, so their stay had been extended (with permission granted by Hiashi, of course).

The two Hyūga had been settling in quite well. Neji spent all of the previous day training with Fugaku, Itachi even coming in to lend a hand. Which, of course, left both younger siblings (or...cousins, in Hinata’s case) without their elders to keep an eye on them. And today was headed in much the same direction.

When they finally headed downstairs, Mikoto greeted them warmly. “Did you sleep all right, Hinata?”

“Y...yes ma’am!”

“Well, I hope you’re hungry - there’s still plenty of breakfast left!”

“Did Neji and aniki already go to the gym?” Sasuke asked, clearly a bit disappointed as his brother yet again left him behind.

“They did. I believe Neji-kun wanted to get an early start on the training Fugaku is offering him.”

“Oh…”

“Don’t worry, they’ll be back when they have a lunch break! Maybe then your brother can spare some time to spend with you, ne?”

Not replying verbally, Sasuke just gave a solemn nod, which earned a sheepish glance from Hinata.

Considering the pair of them as they started digging into their meal, Mikoto then asked, “...Sasuke, why don’t you take Hinata-chan to the Safari Zone?”

He paused midway to taking a bite. “...huh?”

“It’s unlike anything else in Kanto, after all! Especially someplace like Cerulean. I bet you could show her all sorts of neat things.” His mother gave a wink and a smile. “You might even get to see some rare pokémon! What do you think, Hinata-chan? Does that sound like fun?”

Missing Sasuke’s sour pout, Hinata had brightened with starry eyes. “Oh, y-yes please! W-what kind of pokémon are in there…?”

“All sorts! A friend of Itachi’s volunteers there to help keep the pokémon in the reserve safe from poachers. She even has a pokémon of her own that was poached, but saved. She used to live in Lavender Town with an old man who helped take care of abandoned or injured pokémon. I bet she’d have lots of stories to tell you.”

Even as Hinata gushed over the idea, Sasuke picked at his food. While he liked the park well enough...the girl in question bothered him. Itachi seemed to find too many excuses to spend time with her. And with how jealous Sasuke could get about time spent with his brother, well...it meant he wasn’t exactly fond of her.

“You’ll take her, won’t you Sasuke?”

“...yeah, we can go.”

“Good! I’ll send my Butterfree to the reserve and let them know you’ll be coming. Maybe she can give you a tour!”

Sasuke’s expression pinched further. “No!”

Both girls paused, looking to him in question. “...why not?”

“I...I wanna do it! Hinata’s my friend…” And he didn’t want anyone else interfering!

Looking a bit confused but also on the verge of understanding, Mikoto had gently shrugged. “Well...all right. Do be careful - it’s pretty easy to get lost in there.”

“We’ll be fine…”

Once they were finished eating, the pair had thanked Mikoto again before heading north toward the Safari Zone. Sasuke, no longer quite so grumpy, explained what the park was for. “Mostly it’s to help pokémon that are more endangered. They live there with very few trainers allowed to catch them. You gotta pay a fee to go in, and you only have so much time to look before you have to try again. The money helps with the park, and keeping the pokémon there safe and healthy.”

“Rare pokémon…?”

“Well, not all of them are rare, but some are, like Dratini or Kangaskhan.”

“Do you think we’ll s-see one?”

Sasuke hesitated at that. Technically the odds were pretty low, but...Itachi’s friend had one of the pokémon in question. And it was even a shiny variety, hence it being poached. “...maybe.”

Arriving at the entrance to the reserve, the pair paid their fees, allowed a longer stay than a trainer as they weren’t heading in to try and catch any pokémon. And just as they were heading out the door -

“Hey, Sasuke-kun!”

The boy visibly flinched. Great...it was her.

“Heading into the park?”

“...yeah...m’taking my friend to see it.”

“I see! Is she a young trainer like you?”

“Er...kinda…”

“Sasuke-kun caught me a G-Goldeen yesterday! It’s my first ever pokémon!” Hinata replied, looking excited.

“Wow, congratulations! Be safe out there, okay? If you have any trouble, I’m sure one of the park rangers will find you. And Sasuke-kun can always send his Spearow for help if you need it, all right?”

“O-okay!”

Stubbornly taking Hinata’s hand, Sasuke tugged her through the door. “Bye…”

“Bye!”

That was this morning. It’s now early afternoon, and after a thorough romp through several areas of the park...the pair are about ready to call it quits.

...there’s just one problem.

Sasuke isn’t sure where he is…

“Um...Sasuke-kun…?”

“What?”

“Are...are we lost…?”

His stubborn expression only deepens. “...”

“Should...should we send for he-?”

“We’re fine! We just...have to keep going. This way!”

Stumbling a bit as he tugs her forward, Hinata has little choice but to follow. While she’s enjoyed herself thoroughly - they even saw a family of Kangaskhan! - the prospect of being stuck in here is unnerving. Especially since her stomach keeps gurgling… “S-Sasuke-kun -?”

“I don’t need any help. I know where I’m going!”

“But -?”

“I can do this on my own!”

Expression slackening in surprise, Hinata then digs in her heels, jolting Sasuke to a stop. “I-it’s okay to ask for help!”

“I can -!”

“Sasuke-kun…” She gives him a pleading look. “Y...you helped me the other day...right? To catch Goldeen?”

“But...that was different…”

Able to puzzle out at least part of why he’s upset, she flashes a sheepish smile. “I...I’m really glad you took me here! It’s been a lot of fun. But...we need to get back, right…? A-aren’t you tired? O-or hungry?”

His glance aside is telling enough.

“...let’s just send your Spearow, o-okay? Then we can go back, and have lunch with everybody. Ne…?”

“Oi!”

Both kids stiffen in shock, looking over to find a Rapidash galloping toward them. And on its back is the girl from before, worry clear in her expression. Sasuke can’t help a hint of a scowl - out of everyone, why her?!

Sliding from the pokémon’s back, she jogs the rest of the distance. “Are you guys okay?”

“Y-yes, we’re fine! Just a little, um...l-lost. I think I...I got us all turned around.”

Sasuke’s eyes widen. Why is she -?

“That’s okay! It’s easy to get lost in here - even I still get a little confused sometimes! Mikoto-san was getting concerned, so I said I’d come look for you. How about you two ride on Rapidash, and spare your feet the rest of the walk?”

“Oh, y-yes please!”

The elder helps lift them up atop the equine pokémon, smiling. “Don’t worry, she won’t burn you - she’s very well trained to help people here in the park. Now, let’s get you back home!”

Minutes pass by in silence, and soon enough, the entry building looms up out the trees. Both let back to the ground, the pair make their way through the door...and run straight into Itachi and Neji!

“Oh thank goodness…!” Brows wilted in worry, Itachi latches onto his brother, who tenses in surprise. “I was afraid you’d gotten hurt and were stuck somewhere…!”

“I...I’m okay, aniki.”

“Hinata-chan! Are you all right?”

“Y-yes, I’m fine, Neji-nī. Really.”

“Thank you so much for finding them,” Itachi offers, looking to his friend gratefully.

“Of course! They actually weren’t too far out. I’m just glad they’re both safe and sound. Now, you guys better go get your lunch, ne? That’s a long time to go hiking without a snack!”

Waving farewell, the four of them take their leave, walking back to the Uchiha household. All the while, Hinata gushes to Neji about all they saw.

“M-maybe we can go in another time so you can see! It’s beautiful in there...we didn’t get to see any Dratini, o-or Chansey. But maybe next time!”

“Ah, did she not show your her Dratini?” Itachi asks.

“She...she has one?”

“Yes, though…” Itachi glances to Sasuke, who seems to wilt. “...I suppose it isn’t quite the same as seeing one in its natural habitat. Maybe we’ll all go back before you two head home, and we can have a guided tour. It might increase our odds.”

“O-okay! I-I had a lot of fun with Sasuke-kun today, so...I-I’d like to do it again!”

Itachi just gives a small, knowing smile. “...and I’m sure he enjoyed getting to show you more about our town, Hinata-chan.”

Once returned, they all settle in for the lunch Mikoto’s made, the mother greeting the younger pair in relief. But with them safe and sound, the conversation soon drifts.

Noticing Sasuke still looking a bit put out, Hinata gently nudges him with her shoulder. “T-thank you for taking me today. I think...that was one of the c-coolest things I’ve ever gotten to do: see pokémon like that!”

“...really?”

She nods.

“...even if we got lost?”

“I-it’s fine, Sasuke-kun. You still helped me do something I’d n-never have done otherwise.”

After a pause, he manages a smile. “...you’re welcome.”

                                                        .oOo.

     (This is a sequel to days 18 and 88, and is followed by days 125, 127, and 278!)       More pokéverse! Haven't done this one in a while, and it's always fun to revisit. This one kinda falls in the middle, which...I try not to jump around in the order of the mini series, but I kinda had to xD      Poor Sasuke...he just wanted to look cool. Of course something had to go wrong! But it seems Hinata still had oodles of fun regardless, so...it's still a good day!      I'd say more, but it's VERY late and I'm very tired, lol - thanks for reading!

[walkingshcdow-a]

Prompt: Anger Character: Masha Summary: Masha gets some shocking news from her younger sister. Piffling Verse, Mashap. @hcpebelief Rating: K+/T TW: Pregnancy, domestic violence mention, fertility struggles/infertility, some sexual content.

“Actually, this isn’t my first pregnancy. I gave a baby away for adoption when I was in art school.”

The smile on Masha’s face flickered, candle-like, stuttering in the breezy way Yelena spoke. She watched as her baby sister stretched out on the sofa luxuriously and propped her swollen ankles on the armrest. Reaching back into her memory, Masha pulled out memories of Yelena in art school. Eighteen and beautiful, round-cheeked, still a baby, she had embarked to New York with a vintage suitcase and a cheeky smile. From the airport terminal, Masha and her mother watched her go until she disappeared in the line to have her baggage checked. 

“She’ll be great artist someday,” Mama had said as she and Masha walked to the car. “But art doesn’t pay rent.”

Masha had, at the time, been a new nurse, and worked long hours in a London ER. She came home with an aching back and swollen feet. She would cook dinner for her mother and tuck her in when she fell asleep in front of the television. Wash the dishes. Study a little, if she had the energy. Repeat the day as necessary. For a while, the letters Yelena sent, including photos of all the great monuments Masha longed to see, were a gift. They broke the monotony with pride and jealousy intermingled. Masha studied the application to Doctors Without Borders that sat on her desk every time Yelena wrote and thought, Someday. Just when she would tuck that hope away in her heart, the letters would come again. 

Then the requests for money began and the pictures stopped. 

For nine long months, Masha worked harder and longer to earn overtime. Her hands, rubbed red and raw from constant washing, drank in bottle after bottle of lotion. She enrolled in a program to become a nurse practitioner to earn more money in the long-run. She slept little and worried often, seldom hearing from Yelena the way she heard from her brothers and Galina. When she asked them about Yelena, they all said she knew more than they did. Maybe that was true. Maybe. But after nine months, the letters sounded more like the Yelena Masha had always known - flippant and fun, excited about life and school, gossipy and a treat. She’d lost her taste for sweets, though, in that time and the day she signed the final check to FIT on her sister’s behalf, Masha took off for Africa, Asia, South America, Eastern Europe - anywhere her family was not. She sent Yelena letters, disclosing what she could when she could, but she never had kept secrets from her. Never. But Yelena…

“You never said.” Masha crossed into the kitchen and pulled out her cutting board. From her refrigerator, she retrieved vegetables from the crisper. Then, from the knife block, she pulled out the biggest, sharpest blade. 

“I’m saying so now,” Yelena said. She propped herself up to look at Masha. “Would it have made a difference?”

Masha made the first, sharp slice. The bright scent of green pepper hit her nose and cleared her sinuses. This, she blamed for the tears pricking her eyes. 

“You wrote to me the whole time,” Masha said. “You never mentioned it at all.”

“What would you have said if I told you? You’ve always seen me as a baby. You would have given me some sermon about babies having babies.”

“That’s not true.” 

Masha began to chop faster. Seeds spilled onto the cutting board. 

“Mama would have, then,” Yelena said, “when you told her.”

“I wouldn’t have.”

“You would.”

Masha pushed the bell peppers aside. Did it matter now that she would have told their mother when she was twenty-four? At thirty-four, just now learning that her sister had given birth and never said a word about it, Masha could only think of one person she might tell about her grief at the news. Her thoughts curled around the image of her husband - the last time she’d seen him asleep in their bed. She’d wanted to disturb him then, so badly. It had been the right time of the month to conceive and the sight of his supine body, chest half-bared from a sloppy, sleepy job of undressing, made her ache to straddle his hips and press her palms against his pectorals for balance. But he was so tired and so was she - too tired to make love, too tired to try again for another negative pregnancy test, too tired, even, to talk about the feeling in Masha’s chest now, mangled and ripped as the core of the bell peppers she chopped. Didn’t Yelena know that if she hadn’t wanted the child… Masha paused. It must have crossed Yelena’s mind at least once to ask Masha to raise her baby. After all, she asked Masha for everything else. Now, some stranger was the child’s mother and had been for ten years. They had no claim to the child. And, even for all Yelena asked of Masha now - to house her and to cook and clean and work and provide - Masha had no claim on this new child, either. Masha cursed Yelena’s ex-husband - for putting his hands on her, for failing to provide a home for his wife and child, and for giving Yelena the one thing Masha wanted most. She set the knife down heavily. She stared at the counter, the floor, her flat belly for a silent moment. 

“I need to go for a walk,” Masha said tightly. “You can finish making dinner.”

“Masha…”

Yelena heaved to her feet and plodded towards Masha as she went to the little bowl with her keys in it. Who knew how long she’d be gone? It would be nice to get out of the house, to see something or someone other than her sister. Maybe she’d go to the funeral home and find Eric. Schedules be damned: they could try again today, even if it was in the coat closet during the Settership funeral. Even if they failed yet again, it would give Masha just a little relief to feel pleasure and be exhausted by something other than her sister and her goddamn bombshells of news. Yelena’s hands grabbed Masha’s wrists.

“You can’t run away from everything you feel, Mashka,” Yelena said.

Mash yanked her hands away. The violence of the motion knocked the bowl to the floor and it shattered into a hundred crystalline pieces. Yelena flinched, tripping backward.

“Lena, I’m sorry,” Masha said as gently as she could, trying to put her feelings back on the shelf and remember that broken glass meant something more than a need for a broom in Yelena’s world. 

“It’s fine,” Yelena said, unconvincingly. “I’ll sweep this up. Maybe it’s better if you go for your walk.”

“I’m so sorry-”

“Just go.”

“No, this is my home and my mess, I’ll clean it up-”

“I can leave by morning. Pack my things and go to London.”

“Don’t be ridiculous-”

“I’m not the one who’s being ridiculous,” Yelena said. “What does it matter to you that I’ve had another pregnancy? It was a long time ago.” 

Masha opened the broom closet and stared into it. She inhaled the musty scent and exhaled slowly. 

“You never told me,” she said dully. Then, like the chopping knife, her voice sharpened with each word. “And now I know I know why your “studio fees” were so high. And why you stopped sending pictures. And I worked so hard for you and I never knew and you never cared. And I never got to meet my niece or nephew. And now we’re just doing it all over again. And you get to be the selfish one. Again. Always.”

“If you don’t want me here-”

“It’s better than the alternative.” Masha emerged from the broom closet and began to sweep up the glass. “What would you do without me, Yelena? Give this one up? Get rid of it? Raise it?”

Yelena narrowed her eyes at Masha. 

“This is exactly the kind of judgment I would have expected from you ten years ago. I thought you’d grown up since then.”

“That I’d grown up?”

“You were always jealous of me, always the martyr, always the savior. Christ, Masha, why do you think I didn’t tell you about the first one?”

Masha dusted the shards of glass into the bin. She sucked in her cheeks.

“You wouldn’t have been supportive of me, not really, so I gave him up, closed adoption, and hoped it wouldn’t happen again.”

“It takes more than hoping.” 

Yelena shot Masha a withering look. Masha tossed the broom and dustpan into the closet and slammed it shut. 

“Does the idea of being a mother even make you happy, Yelena?” she asked. “Be honest. Please.”

Yelena’s lower lip quivered.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I thought it would keep my marriage from failing.”

“You’re better off without that bastard,” Masha said. “But how do you feel about motherhood now?” 

Yelena started to cry, noisy cries that Masha was sure the neighbors could hear. If she could unclench her fists, she’d embrace her sister. Instead, she offered her a paper towel to wipe her eyes with and sighed. Sniffling into the towel, Yelena looked up at Masha.

“You’d be better at this than me,” she said. “You were made to be a mother.”

Masha laughed bitterly. “Don’t I wish.”

Yelena’s eyes, so like Masha’s own, widened with understanding for the first time. 

“... oh.”

Masha sighed.

“I really am going for a walk. I can’t… Lena, I can’t talk about this anymore.”

“You should try crying about it,” Yelena said as Masha walked towards the door. “It helps me.”

“Don’t tell me how to deal with this.” Masha gritted her teeth and opened the door. “But I’ll keep it in mind.”

She wouldn’t, of course. Not in front of Yelena. Not until she was truly, truly alone. 

[hardlyfatal]

gary’s writing workshop: lesson 3:

Plot Structuring, Part 1

What is a story? Stories are accounts of transformations: situations, people, attitudes, establishments. If something isn’t changing, what is there to write about? Nothing.

Our job, as writers, is to describe the change and repercussions so that they’re effectively and entertainingly communicated to our readers with as much readability as possible. There are three components to managing it, which I’ll be going over here..

In this lesson, I’m going to ask you to change how you perceive and write stories.1

1. Plot Points & Purpose

Instead of looking at scenes from the outside – instead of looking at them from the POV of the reader, and considering their entertainment value – I want you to look at them from the inside. Or, rather, from below. From what basis, to what purpose, do they spring?

Scenes do not exist just to be entertaining. The wow factor is great, but it’s the icing on this particular cake. You can dress up a scene with elaborate setting, intense dialogue, brisk pacing, and boatloads of UST… but if they don’t move the plot along, they’re like a broken pencil: pointless.

Thus the new way to look at stories, at individual scenes, is to scrutinize them for purpose. The only purpose or reason any scene should make it into a story is because it moves the plot to its next point. These are in fact called plot points, and every scene requires one.

It’s a pretty existential way of looking at the matter, but it’s necessary, in order to create a satisfying tale that flows logically from one place to the next, that feels continuous and makes sense. Making sense is a very important, and often overlooked, aspect of storytelling.

Let’s use my story, Shoot the Moon, as an example. Going into it, I knew my overarching story premise: I wanted them to meet, hate each other, but slowly grow to learn about, become attracted to, eventually love each other, and then part. Not knowing that they actually lived in the same city, they meet again and reestablish their relationship. Finally, they find the motivation to overcome their personal demons to be together.

If you tease apart those plot points, you’ll see there are three acts:

They meet, hate each other, but slowly grow to learn about, become attracted to, and eventually love each other.

They part, not knowing that they lived in the same city, then meet again.

They overcome their misapprehensions about each other, and personal demons, to be together.

So how do I get them from A (beginning of each arc) to B (end of each arc)? The chapters in each arc have to have purpose; they have to have a point. Thus each scene was created to serve the purpose needed. A few examples:

I wanted Jaime to see how loving and gentle Brienne could be in contrast to her appearance and behavior to that point, so I created the scene where she shows the twins the bird eggs.

I wanted Brienne that, for all Jaime’s dickishness, he carried pain and perhaps deserved a bit of understanding and patience, so I created the scene where she confronts him and he reveals how he’s been parenting the twins by himself since his wife died.

I wanted to show Brienne’s persisting lack of self-esteem and reinforce Jaime’s attraction to her, so I created the scene where Arianne opened the door in just a robe, exposing most of her goodies, and Jaime hardly noticing because he was paying attention to Brienne instead.

As long as your story is driven by plot points– that make sense – that’s it. You’re probably suspicious of how simple it is, but it really is just that uncomplicated.

Despite that simplicity, I see a lot of people including gratuitous scenes, the purpose of which is to stroke the reader’s kink for whatever (hurt/comfort, fluff, smut, drama, etc.) instead of to push the plot forward. Either nothing much occurs in the scene, or it’s merely a reiteration of plot development and exposition that has already occurred before.

In the case of the latter, you need to have self-discipline and choose one or the other. There is no need to repeat yourself in romantic fiction – it just bogs things down and kills the pacing. Redundancy is wasted time and effort. If you’ve made a point, the point is made and does not need repeating. Have you noticed yet that I’ve said the same thing four times in this paragraph, just worded differently? Yeah.

In the case of the former, it just needs to go. If it’s dead weight, it’s dead weight. Be like Marie Kondo: thank it and let it go.

That’s not to say that hurt/comfort, fluff, smut, and drama can’t be included. They absolutely can and should be; they just need to have a point, and you only need to make that point once.

The point of a hurt/comfort scene could be one of them learning to trust the other, or discovering they have the capacity to be gentle and caring with another person, or that being vulnerable – with the right person, i.e. the other half of the couple – is not only safe but freeing.

The point of fluff could be one of them revealing they feel secure enough to let their inhibitions down and show spontaneous affection, or to show their joy in being able to openly express their love instead of having to keep it hidden and fearful.

The point of smut could be one of them developing the confidence to be a more active or even dominant lover, or show their surprise to be given pleasure for their sake instead of used for their partner’s satisfaction before their own, i.e. that they matter as well and that they doesn’t have to sacrifice their own pleasure in order to make the other person happy.

The point of a dramatic scene could be an expression of any of these – trust, capacity for gentleness, security in the other’s affections, confidence, realization of self-worth, revelations of secrets – possibly with some sort of action-y component. Is there a dramatic revelation that will somehow directly impact the romance between the couple?

To illustrate what I mean, I chose to deconstruct a scene from the show specifically because it is so spare of dialogue (relatively speaking), to show you how effective scenes can be even when there’s not a lot of verbal exposition, at least about the true reason for the scene.

This scene has nothing to do with her loyalties to the Starks or Catelyn Stark, though it may seem that way at first. It exists to give Jaime an opportunity to get to know Brienne better in ways that speak to her core personality and character.

Example:

TV!Brienne takes on three Stark men – who had killed a group of prostitutes after servicing Lannister soldiers – while Jaime watches. Youtube link, if you’d like to watch it to see exactly what happens..

Reason it was included:

To give the audience not only more evidence of her fighting prowess but also insight to her thoughts/feelings (her pity for the prostitutes in particular and of women’s plight in being under the control of men in general, and that she’s empathetic to the point of being vengeful on behalf of others who have suffered).

To make the audience understand that Jaime is now aware that Brienne is a formidable fighter; is not an empty braggart/can back up her claims of ‘knocking men into the dust’; is passionate enough about her convictions to fight and kill for them; is brave enough to face, and skilled enough to defeat, three men at once; is more committed to her loyalty to other women than she is to the Stark cause.

What was accomplished:

Jaime sees her as more than just her unusual appearance or another random person who loathes him like everyone else or a Stark lackey. She becomes a real person to him in this scene.

2. Making the Reader Give a Damn

You have to retain the reader’s interest from one chapter to the next. If you lose them along the way, you’ve lost any reason to keep going with the story. I know we all tell ourselves “I’m just having fun!” and “I’m doing this for myself!” but I think we all agree, though maybe just secretly, that it’s kind of bullshit: stories are made to be read by someone, somewhere.

If a tree falls in the forest and there’s no one there to hear it, does it make a sound? If no one reads our stories, was it worth the effort of writing them? If we’re boring the pants off our readers, why bother? Maybe it’s because you love to know you’re making others happy, maybe it’s because you love the appreciation you receive, whatever. IDK your life. But for the most part, there’s some external validation going on, and if others are quitting your story in the middle, or foregoing your stories entirely because past things you’d written had been unreadable, you’re just shouting into a void.

The main issues where readership hangs in the balance are pacing and description (setting, blocking, inner voice/narration). We’ll go over all of these to a greater degree in later lessons. For now, I’ll just say… if these are compromised, you’re going to be giving a skimpier, shallower, boring-er version instead of the lushly-detailed story it could have been.

3. Making Sense

Getting them sucked in with your word-picture and the flow of plot points is only two-thirds of the job: you also need to make sense. And before you start yapping about suspension of disbelief, yes, that’s a thing, but it only goes so far. There are certain premises than can stretch credulity and still work, but others that go too far and just ruin it.

This is one of our Battles of the Balance: you have to find how far you can go until it just doesn’t work and starts to feel stupid. It negatively impacts readability because it’s so outlandish that it tugs the reader from their reading trance and makes them wonder WTF you’re trying to do because what you just wrote is highly improbable. It kills the story’s readability. It’s important to stay grounded and retain an open mind about your balance in this regard. You need to be able to analyze what you’re doing and seeing if it is going over the top rather than blindly trusting your first impulses and, worse, ignoring feedback that indicates that you need to tone it down.

This is why the work of A Certain Someone fails: she contends that human people are able to produce bodily secretions to a volume that is not physically possible. She loses us because she forewent logic for the payoff she was reaching for (presumably arousal?). Instead of us getting all into the smut and romance, grinning dirtily, instead we frown and grimace because we’re imagining rivulets and puddles and sodden carpets and crusty mattresses, etc. And her ego prevents her from understanding that she is imbalanced in this way, with the result that she keeps churning out fic after revolting fic that many potential readers avoid.

It’s also why Mary Sues and Gary Stus spur such a knee-jerk loathing in so many people. It’s fine to give your characters fine, admirable qualities, but if you heap them on, or don’t counter them with just-as-significant flaws, it will no longer make sense because it’s illogical that anyone would be so fantastic and lacking in defects.

Chekhov’s Gun3 vs. Deus Ex Machina

Chekhov’s Gun2 and Deus Ex Machina are two sides of the same coin: the need for continuity. If it happens earlier, there needs to be resolution later. If it happens later, there needs to be mention (aka ”foreshadowing”) earlier.

Chekhov’s Gun is a literary principle stating that elements in a story have to be relevant. The presence of superfluous details constitute ‘false promises’ on the part of the author, because they’re offering a concept to the reader that will never have any point.

This doesn’t mean you should never mention non-essential things that have no bearing on the plot for fear of creating Chekhov’s guns willy-nilly; you need to create ambiance with description of setting, etc. It just means don’t make a point of mentioning something beyond its level of importance to the story. Brienne’s nose is mentioned as being crooked to emphasize her ugliness as well as symbolize her atypically unfeminine lifestyle since the huge majority of Westerosi women don’t get their noses broken, due to their less active lifestyles. Jaime’s nose is mentioned… never, because it doesn’t matter.

Disclaimer: I am terrible at the Chekhov’s Gun thing, because I have a shitty memory and will put in a detail that I fully intend to do something with… only to completely forget it exists and never mention it again. This is bad. Do not do as I do on this one. I mention it because it’s a continuing issue I struggle with and continue to work on. My poor betas...

Deux Ex Machina is a plot device whereby a problem, conundrum, obstacle, or mystery is solved when an unlikely resolution presents itself without any hints or foreshadowing earlier in the plot, often in such a convenient way that it feels contrived and anti-climactic.

Example that I just cooked up: The big fight in King’s Landing, Jaime and Brienne fight a pitched battle to reach the throne room where Cersei is seated upon her pile of swords. Together, they manage to defeat Gregor Clegane and just as they’re about to confront the queen, Arya pops up3 from behind the throne to tug on Cersei’s left earlobe. Turns out, Cersei is actually an android and had been malfunctioning for a long time, hence her erratic behavior. Bran had a vision about where her off-switch was, and used magical mind-speak to tell his sister how to cut Cersei’s power. Et voilà!

Example that actually happened in the show: Dragons fly at the speed of light and can whisk people around a continent comparable in size to the United States in an hour or two. Similarly, ships can navigate long distances at a fraction of the time supported by actual reality, and horses can rocket down the Kingsroad like Maseratis, if the speed with which Brienne and Pod made it from Winterfell to the dragon pit is any indication4.

Homework

If you are currently working on a story: create an outline of its plot in terms of each scene’s purpose. Identify any gaps in the progression of plot points, and come up with ways to bridge those gaps.

If you are not currently working on a story: do this with one of the stories you have already published. Think up what you could have done differently, or what you could have inserted, to connect the loose ends.

If you are not currently writing anything, and have never published anything: Take one of my stories, nothing too short because it won’t have enough transitions to make the effort meaningful, and nothing too long because LOL this is supposed to be fun, and do as instructed above. I suggest Signs of Life, Vision of Love, or Full Fathom Five because of their middling lengths. Identify gaps, and suggest fixes for them.

Remember to look for connections and flow from scene to scene, NOT chapter to chapter.

Footnotes

1 – Unless you already do this, in which case… well done! Carry on! 

2 – This refers to Anton Chekhov, Russian author, not any Star Trek character.

3 – I SWEAR TO GOD I wrote this months ago, before the last season. Wish I hadn’t been prescient about it... *weeps*

4 – Like, I know about the compression of time through editing but COME ON.

© 2019 to me

[tastycitrus]

The Powerpuff Girls (SRW) get their souls trapped in dolls and then stranded on Dr. Quandary’s Secret Island

Or, Meme Dwellers play The Secret Island of Dr. Quandary (except not really, I never wrote anything more for this). A joke story I wrote for some reason like two years ago that I’m now putting on here for some reason? It’s just a shitpost, lol.

Who thought it was a good idea to force the Steel Dragons to attend a carnival? The only culprit that came to mind was Excellen, but as crafty as she was there was no way she could’ve convinced the higher-ups to turn a carnival trip into a “mandatory team-building exercise” for the Steel Dragons and their associates.

Now, normally being forced to attend a carnival wasn’t the worst thing ever. But this carnival was really something else. I mean…really something else.

It was clear at first glance that the people behind this horrible place pretending to be a fun carnival didn’t care a single bit for their patrons’ safety. They also probably cared even less about making it actually fun.

The Ferris wheel was stopped for what had to be the fifteenth time that day, leaving the unfortunate victims who were dumb enough to get on trapped inside until the maintenance workers could get it moving again. The bathrooms smelled like rotten ass and probably had seventeen different STDs infesting the seats. The food was tasteless at best and looked like they had failed every bit of health inspection out there. All the games looked uninteresting and were probably rigged anyway.

To top it all off, even the atmosphere itself seemed to be as bleak and gloomy as this parody of a carnival. How the hell did this place manage to stay in business?

Katia, Melua, and Tenia thought long and hard about that question as they wandered around this travesty that called itself a carnival.

“Where’s Touya, Calvina, and the bland twins?” Tenia asked. “How’d we lose them in this place? I mean—I can understand losing Akimi and Akemi, but Touya and Calvina are pretty distinct, you know?”

Melua glanced around. “Yeah, usually Calvina’s the one who loses us, not the other way around.”

“You’d think we’d be able to keep track of the four people we were supposed to be exploring this ‘carnival’ with.” Katia scanned the premises for a familiar face. “Also, where the heck is anybody else? This place can’t be that big.”

She sighed, pulling out her phone. “You know what, why don’t we just try calling Calvina instead of wandering around like lost kids—”

Suddenly, a carny shouted very loudly in their direction, “Step right up! Have a try at this game! It’s free!”

Katia coughed after a moment. “Well, I’ll call—”

“Come on, don’t be shy! Try your hand at Troggle Shoot! You win a prize every time!”

“…I’ll call—”

“And yes, I am talking to you, trio of girls who look like lost children and whose color schemes are blatantly ripping off the Powerpuff Girls. Come here and play Troggle Shoot!”

The three girls sighed and turned to look at the carny shouting at them. He was a man dressed in purple robes and a funny hat manning a stand that no one seemed to be paying much attention to. His stand was evidently his game of Troggle Shoot, judging by his earlier shouting and also the flashing neon pink sign that said “Troggle Shoot” on top of the stand.

The three exchanged glances.

“What if it’s a kidnapping attempt?” Katia asked.

“Surprisingly, we haven’t run into that in this carnival yet,” Melua replied. “I don’t see any of the others, but if we shout loud enough someone should come running…”

“He doesn’t look so tough.” Tenia glanced at the carny. “He looks old and scrawny. I bet even we could beat him up. And he did go through all the trouble of calling us out.”

Katia sighed. “I swear, you two are going to land us in a shallow grave out on the side of a road one day.”

They reluctantly headed over to the carny’s stand, because he was a creepy old man being incredibly insistent on having three girls play his probably terrible game. He gave them what was likely supposed to be a disarming smile as they approached. Unfortunately, it just made him look creepier.

“Welcome, girls! I am the ingenious Dr. Quandary, the quintessential quizmaster! But you may call me Doctor Q.”

Oh great, alliteration. How wonderful—I absolutely adore the amazing appeal of alliteration. It’s immensely impressive to implement.

“You must be so happy,” Katia whispered to Melua. “You’ve finally found kin.”

“Shut up, Katia.”

Doctor Q continued on. “It’s your lucky day! I am offering you three a free game of Troggle Shoot! If you win, you can have these three dolls.”

He gestured to three dolls sitting atop a shelf in the stand. One was of a babyish blond child dressed in blue overalls. Another was a pink-skinned…person dressed in blinding yellow clothes. The last was aptly described as a horrific pumpkin-headed mutant wearing a popped-collar shirt and Hawaiian shorts.

“Excuse me, did I say dolls? I meant to say…Lifelike Action Figures!”

“…Just call them dolls, dude.” Tenia gave him her best impression of Calvina’s “what the fuck is this shit” face. “We’re not even boys—trying to play to that stereotype doesn’t make any sense!”

“Also these dolls are the ugliest things I’ve ever seen,” Katia added.

Melua grimaced. “Trying to offer them as prizes just makes me want to play this game even less!”

Doctor Q waved his hands. “Hey, hey, don’t be like that. Who knows? Maybe you’ll grow to like these precious faces!”

“I doubt that,” the three girls said in unison.

“…Look, it’s a free game and you get free stuff. Didn’t your parents teach you not to look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“Our parents are dead.”

“…Well, why not distract yourself from the grief and sadness with a little game of Troggle Shoot! It’s free! See that Troggle in the box marked TARGET?”

“We don’t want to—”

He pointed insistently at an LCD screen built into the side of the stand that showed an image that was probably supposed to be that Troggle thing he was talking about.

“Shoot as many of them as you can.” He set three BB guns on the table. “You each have 20 bullets. You can start firing whenever you’re ready.”

The three girls sighed. What a pushy guy. Seeing as he probably wasn’t going to leave them alone until they played his crappy game, they took the guns he offered them. Doctor Q’s smile widened as he stepped aside to activate the game. In the back of the stand, Troggles of all shapes and sizes began to roll across the shooting gallery’s three rows, but the girls were aiming for only one type.

One such Troggle came out first from the right on the middle row. Katia aimed and fired first. However, she aimed where it was instead of where it was going to be, so the Troggle rolled onward unharmed while her bullet looked stupid as it hit nothing.

“Oops. Well, at least Calvina isn’t here to complain about how much I suck at shooting.”

At least her mistake taught Tenia and Melua that they should aim slightly ahead of the Troggles to hit them. With that lesson learned, the girls began to shoot down Troggle after Troggle with relative ease. The game was surprisingly simple with no bullshit rigging involved, and they each had some experience in shooting because during their little venture in space Calvina decided to give them lessons since they had nothing else to do most of the time.

Once they used up their 20 bullets, their total Troggles shot came up to 53. Doctor Q shut off the machine and applauded them.

“Bravo, girls! Nice shooting! You’ve won your prizes.” He paused. “Though I must warn you; the prize you choose may have a dramatic effect on your future. These are not your ordinary Lifelike Action Figures. In fact, you might even swear they were alive sometimes!” He let out a deep laugh.

“Are you seriously still calling them Lifelike Action Figures?” asked Tenia. “And why does this sound incredibly foreboding?”

Doctor Q ignored her. “Let me tell you about them.”

He first gestured to the babyish one on the far left. “This is B. Ginner. It’s harmless, mostly.”

He moved on to the pink one on the far right. “This is O. D. Nary. A nice, middle of the road fellow.”

Finally, he motioned to the tan one with the pumpkin head. “And this is D. Fee Cult. It can be a real pain in the posterior. Which one will you take?”

“What’s with the punny names?” Katia asked. “And also the foreboding descriptions? Everything about this whole setup is incredibly suspicious and I don’t think we should accept these dolls.”

“Even if this whole thing didn’t scream danger, I still wouldn’t want these things,” Melua muttered. “They’re all so freaky.”

Doctor Q slammed his fist on the stand, making the girls jump. “You’ll accept these Lifelike Action Figures and you’ll like it!”

“Okay, fine! We’ll take the stupid dolls!” Melua turned to the others. “I’m…going with B. Ginner. It’s the least freaky of the bunch.”

Katia shrugged. “Alright, I’ll go with O. D. Nary then.”

“Wait, but that leaves me with D. Fee Cult!” Tenia whined. “It’s so freaky with that swollen pumpkin head!”

“Too late, Tenia. At least it looks like the ultimate dudebro with that outfit.”

She groaned. “Fine. Maybe I can freak Touya out by sticking it in his room…”

The three girls reluctantly accepted their prizes. God, they were so freaky and ugly.

As they studied their freaky prizes, the dolls decided to make themselves more horrifying by suddenly opening their eyes.

“AHH! WHAT THE FU—”

The dolls began to glow, blotting out their view with bright technicolor light. The girls heard Doctor Q laugh maniacally before they blacked out.

__________________

Katia awoke with a splitting headache. She rolled onto her side and pushed herself off the sand, rubbing her head with a groan. Thankfully, her ears didn’t get any sand in them—they were however filled with the sound of the ocean’s grey waves, destined to seek life beyond the shore just out of reach. Er, wait—I mean she heard the ocean lapping against the shore.

…Wait, when the hell did she get to the beach?

Katia looked up and nearly fell over when the first thing she saw were two of those freaky dolls she, Tenia, and Melua had been given moving around like they were alive. Also, they had somehow become as big as she was.

“AHH, HOLY SHIT!”

Her outburst drew the attention of the dolls, who also startled back and screamed. Their voices sounded an awful lot like—

…Wait.

“Tenia? Melua?” Katia asked tentatively as she looked down at herself. The clothes she was wearing certainly weren’t those she had on at the carnival. And her skin was definitely not pink before.

The only thing she knew that had this ungodly pallor and disgustingly bright set of clothes was…that doll…

Looking back up, she saw that the other two seemed to have drawn the same conclusion as her. Their expressions slowly shifted into that of surprise and growing horror. Faced with this terrible realization, the girls reacted the only way they knew how:

By screaming about it.

“NOOOOO! THE LAST THING I WANTED WAS TO BECOME THIS FREAKY PUMPKIN-HEAD DOLL!”

“Dammit, I knew we were going to wind up in some crazy situation one day!”

“This is the last time I play crappy carnival games or accept ugly dolls from strangers!”

Their freak-out session was interrupted by a bottle washing up on the shore. Inside was a rolled-up paper. The three girls looked at it and then at each other.

Tenia walked over to the bottle, uncorking it and pulling out the paper inside. She unfurled it as the other two came over to read the message written on it.

Dear suckers:

Ha! You have fallen into my trap! I have implanted your minds into these DOLLS and transported you to my Secret Island! Unless you can solve all my puzzles and meet all my challenges, you’ll never see your bodies again! You’ll be real nobodies! Get it? NO BODIES! Ha ha ha ha ha

Yours Q-ly,

Doctor Quandary

“…Well, that explains how we got in this situation,” Tenia muttered.

“What the heck is wrong with this guy? Who the hell thinks ‘I’m going to go trap random kids into ugly dolls for shits and giggles’? Literally what does he stand to gain from doing any of this?”

“…Katia, I think we should be more concerned about possibly losing our bodies forever at the moment,” Melua said.

“Yeah, but how are we supposed to get our bodies back? What, is he going to make us make some fixer elixir by completing his stupid challenges?”

As Katia spoke, Tenia walked over to the recycling bin that was conveniently placed nearby and dropped the message inside. Recycling was a habit she gained after Calvina got really angry at her for littering. Surprisingly, Calvina cared a lot about the environment.

Much to her surprise, a receipt popped out after she recycled the message.

“Wait, what? I got a receipt for recycling?” She picked it up and read the big words printed on the top. “…Doctor Q’s Fixer Elixir?”

Katia stared at her. “Are you kidding me.”

She and Melua went over to read the list with Tenia. They went through the entire list in silence.

“…What kind of an ingredient list is this?” Tenia asked. “What do you mean, ‘under-the-table decoration’? Who writes a recipe in riddles?”

Melua pointed at the directions. “The directions aren’t better. ‘Heat it up until it’s too hot to drink’? ‘Drink it’? Screw you too, Doctor Q.”

Tenia groaned. “This is gonna suck. We’re gonna need some major help with this one.”

She pulled out her phone from…somewhere and dialed a number. Katia stared at her pocketless shorts.

“…Where did you get your phone from?”

__________________

The Ferris wheel had been stopped for a whole ten minutes with no signs of moving yet. Heck, the maintenance workers hadn’t even shown up. Trapped in one of the compartments at the top were Calvina, Touya, and the Akatsuki twins. Calvina glared at everyone else as they all sat in awkward silence.

“I told you this thing would break down.”

Touya looked at the floor while Akimi and Akemi stared out of opposite windows.

“…Worth it.”

“Was it? Was it really?”

“…A little.”

Calvina sighed. “This is almost as bad as that time we were stuck in that escape shuttle meant for only two people at best.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s that bad,” Touya replied. “At least this time we have breathing room and you don’t have to steer with Akimi’s ass in your face.”

Akimi coughed. “Yeah, this…is a lot better than that.”

“And we also don’t have any space malaria to worry about.” Akemi frowned. “How did we even get into that situation to begin with?”

Akimi shrugged. “Beats me. We just kinda…woke up like that. Anyway, I hope the ride starts again soon. Don’t freak out yet, but I kinda have to pee.”

The others stared at him.

“…I hope they get the ride fixed soon,” Touya muttered.

“I’ll beat the shit out of you if you piss yourself,” Calvina said flatly.

Akimi lowered his head. “Uh…got it…”

Akemi patted him on the shoulder. “If it comes down to it, you can probably pop open the compartment door and pee out there.”

“Ew, I’m not going to do that.”

Suddenly, Calvina’s phone rang.

“…Really, Calvina? Your ringtone is Megalovania?”

“Shut up, Touya.” She took out her phone and checked the caller ID before taking it. “What is it, Tenia?”

“Calvina, we need your help. Some old fart named Dr. Quandary forced us to play his crappy game and then stuffed our souls into these ugly ass dolls. Now we’re stranded on his secret island and he’s making us solve a bunch of puzzles to gather ingredients to make what sounds like a very unappetizing drink to cure our dollness. We gotta do it, because otherwise we’ll be stuck like this forever and I don’t want to be an ugly ass pumpkin-head dudebro forever, this doll is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. So can you please help us solve these puzzles when we get to them?”

“…What?”

“What did Tenia get into?” Touya asked.

“Apparently she, Katia, and Melua played a suspicious carnival game in the ten minutes we were separated and then the guy running the stand stuffed their souls into some dolls. Or something.”

“…What?” the other three said at the same time.

“Yeah…” Calvina frowned. “Wait, if you three are stuck in dolls without your bodies how do you still have your phone?”

In the background, she heard Katia shout, “That’s what I asked!” Tenia on the other hand was silent.

“…I don’t know, but it’s convenient, shut up. Are you going to help us or not?”

Calvina rubbed her forehead. “I mean, I guess…it’s not like the four of us are going anywhere, since these idiots wanted to ride the Ferris wheel so damn badly.” She glared at the others once again.

“What? But that thing was obviously going to break down!”

“Yeah, that’s what I said! But nooo, we just had to ride it. Look, I’m putting you on speaker now so everyone can hear what you’re saying.”

She did exactly that before setting her phone on her leg. “Okay, what are we dealing with? Where are you right now?”

“Uh, we’re on a beach. I got a message in a bottle and recycled it to get a recipe for this ‘Fixer Elixir’ which is probably the thing that’s supposed to turn us back to normal. The recipe is weird as shit though. Here, I’ll send Touya a pic.”

Touya’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out. A moment later he held out his phone to show Tenia’s pic. Everyone leaned in to read.

“…What the hell is ‘under-the-table decoration’ supposed to mean?” Akimi asked.

“That’s what I want to know!”

“Well…this seems like the start of a whole bunch of ‘what the hell is this shit’ shenanigans,” Akemi muttered as she went over the list. “Maybe we’ll get a better idea what the heck any of this is supposed to be once you start getting things.”

“I guess…I see a forest nearby so we’re going to head there first. Come on guys, let’s go.”

Calvina sighed. “This is going to be a long day…”

[cupidmarwani-archive]

Denial (Rhodestead)

Summary: Will is straight, but has this habit of watching videos of a faceless man on the internet get himself off.

Warnings: internalized homophobia, homophobia, eventual smut

WC: 6569

-

Here’s the thing: Will Halstead is straight.

Really, he is, no kidding. He likes women, and their chests, and their legs, and all that. He’s had girlfriends, and even had sex with one of them, once, when he was in med school. Her bed had been squeaky and the mattress too small, and the whole time he looked at this poster she had on her wall. It was for the Princess Bride. Buttercup and Wesley together, under beautiful text he could barely see because the lights were off.

He does not, on the other hand, like men. He has no interest in the way their shoulders move when they walk, or the veins on their hands, or their smiles, or the sharp angles of their jaws, or the tenor of their voices, or the way their bottom lips shadows over their chins, or the curve of- anyways. The point is, Will Halstead is completely, one hundred percent heterosexual.

But the other thing is, he follows this account on instagram, prncehrts. It’s some guy that never shows his face, just photos from the neck down. Some of his chest. His legs. His ass. He has a little muscle, but not enough to be overbearing or falsified. In some pictures he has the faint outline of abs, but in others his stomach looks soft, like the kind made to be bitten and covered in violet marks. Not that Will thinks about that of course.

And of course, there’s prncehrts’ other account, on some blogging platform called tumblr. The premium one. The one that Will pays $15/month to follow because these are photos too explicit to go anywhere else, like the ones that showcase his soft cock lying against one of his marked up thighs, or those that show him on his hands and knees, a hand wrapped around a silicon looking purple toy practically dripping with lube.

Will has the subscription for the express purpose of making sure prncehrts is safe. There are a lot of gay men- not that Will is at all one of them- who don’t always know what they’re doing, and could hurt themselves. It’s a matter of safety that Will watches. His body reacts, sometimes, but it just does that because of course he reacts to naked bodies. Because Will isn’t gay.

He watches, though, at least once a week. Refreshes prncehrts’ blog to see if there’s anything new, and takes a look at whatever comes up. Sometimes it’s a picture, sometimes a video, sometimes both and/or more than one.

For about five months, Will watches, listens, and vehemently reminds himself that he’s not gay and there’s nothing gay about this, even when he sometimes has to press the heel of his hand between his legs in an effort to relieve the pressure that comes just because his body reacts to nudity. Just prncehrts’ though, not any of the girlfriends he’s had in the past, including the one he had sex with once before breaking up with her because there wasn’t a real spark. And for five months, he doesn’t think about the real person who makes these videos until he clicks on one of prncehrts kneeling in front of the camera, everything above his smile cut off.

“Hey, so I was hoping for a little help,” prncehrts says, and his voice is so much deeper than most of the moans Will has come to associate with him. “You all know how much I adore Edward.” He holds up the silicone toy he uses so often, and is apparently named Edward. “But unfortunately, he’s torn a bit right here. So, I’m in the market for something new. I’ve got a wishlist in the caption of this video of some stuff I’ve been meaning to try out. Buy it for me and I’ll make something just for you. I promise.”

And Will doesn’t think about it. He clicks the wishlist, and buys the first thing on it, and leaves the username of the account he had to make to have access to prncehrts' premium accound in the “messages” section. He finds himself paying for overnight shipping, too. He just wants the best for this man he’s never met, even though he should probably be saving that money for a rainy day. He’s not off badly, he’s got plenty of money, but not enough that he should be splurging like this when he already has to budget every month for the fees to just look at prncehrts.

When it arrives the next day, he gets two notifications: one from his amazon account, saying the package was delivered, and several hours later, one from prncehrts over DM. Of course, he doesn’t look at it until his shift is over and he’s home, at which point he doesn’t hurry to see what he’s been sent. And he doesn’t kick off his scrubs before throwing himself on the bed, he just gets rid of them because he’s tired and wants to relax.

He taps on the little thumbnail, and the video fills his screen.

“Forgive the mess, sweetheart. Just got a new place.”

Will waves a hand dismissively, even though he’s watching a video recorded quite a while ago. Prncehrts is laying on a mattress on the floor instead of his usual luxurious sheets, but it doesn’t matter much. He’s still beautiful, and when he starts rubbing a lubed finger against his hole, his muscles tense and that soft stomach turns back to muscle, and that would be a good place to put his mouth too. The thought keeps coming to him, and he isn’t sure why. Will could never have sex with a man. He’s just not interested. He doubts he’d be able to get it up, he thinks, even as he lets his own fingers trace against the bulge in his boxers.

He watches the video, start to finish, twice. The path the video takes, the sounds that drip from prncehrts’ mouth, the way the toy looks inside of him, none of it matters, and neither does the new stain on the inside of Will’s underwear. He’s just not gay, so it couldn’t matter, even though he falls asleep with an image of soft lips and the working of a capable hand slipping against the back of his eyelids. It’s there all night, paints itself in front of his eyes again in the morning. He can’t stop thinking about it. And then he starts in on taking over the movement of the toy himself, pushing down on the small of prncehrts’ back and listening to those moans in real life, not just on a tinny video clearly not made professionally.

Maybe he should stop watching these videos. He shakes his head to clear it and goes for his morning coffee, wishing he had thought to completely pull off his underwear instead of just kicking them halfway down his legs last night. A shower, and coffee, and his scrubs, and he can go to work to think about things other than the fact that he needs to reevaluate watching prncehrts so much, considering he’s not gay. At this point, it’s just weird.

Then he gets to work, and doesn’t think about it for a while, because things are busy like they always are, especially with the new ED opening. It’s christened with a train crash, of all things, and some hotshot new doctor comes riding in doing chest compressions on a gurney, yelling out orders, and Will freezes where he stands because he knows that voice too well. Just twelve hours ago it apologized to him for the messy background. A few minutes after that came a very sincere, breathy, thank you.

The new doctor is prncehrts. He knows what the new doctor’s penis looks like before he knows his name. Will thinks he’s going to throw up. Instead, he gets around to actually helping with the influx of patients, and doesn’t even have time to think about it until he gets off work much later. When he has an ER full of trauma patients, they’re more important than remembering all the different positions (Will almost laughs when he thinks that particular word) he’s seen his new colleague.

After it all, however? After, he can’t get it out of his mind. Prncehrts, or rather, Dr. Connor Rhodes, is more stunning in real life. He has a good smile, and kind eyes, and he’s tall and Will’s eyes are drawn to him. But it’s just a matter of curiosity, because, again, Will isn’t gay. He knows better. He wants to see exactly how much different Connor looks in person, but just out of some sort of curiosity he can absolutely control. Will is the master of self control, especially when it comes to absolutely ridiculous thoughts like these.

Except he goes home that night, rewatches his private video, and comes in his boxers again.

He keeps up the routine, very intentionally not mentioning the connection he’s made. It’s not the kind of thing a person just says- “Hey, by the way, I know you have a side business selling nudes and I bought you a vibrating dildo which you sent me a video of you getting yourself off with. Oh, yeah, and I get off on it sometimes, but in a straight way, because I just happen to get off to the sight of any naked body, not just yours in particular. Hope this doesn’t make things awkward!” Not exactly light chit chat.

So Will doesn’t say anything, even when he watches Connor start flirting with one of the other surgeons, and then they kiss at work, and then there comes the day that prncehrts posts a new video of Connor being fucked by a slight woman with fairly short auburn hair. Fucked by, not fucking. With vague fascination, he watches her fuck him with a strap on, and listens to the needy moans it earns. But he doesn’t finish the video, because there’s this feeling in his gut of wrong. Watching the video suddenly feels wrong. He isn’t sure why, or what about it is different besides the woman appearing, but all in all it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. It's a short video, a teaser, for the full one available on her own premier blog. Will almost pays the fee to see the whole thing, but can't bring himself to. Something about it isn't right.

For three days afterward, Will feels weird about this whole thing. Tells himself he should stop watching, because he's straight and so is Connor and it's not the sort of thing a straight man does. For three whole days, his routine of looking and touching and thinking is disrupted, and he may be a little pent up when Connor shoves him against the wall of an elevator and argues with him, and his lips are against Will's ear as he speaks.

He doesn’t process the words being said, just the sound of Connor’s voice and the feel of his body and he melts. It’s easy to melt for him. And Connor definitely notices, but before Will has time to panic, Connor moves and then they’re face to face. Millimeters apart. And Will has studied these lips, studied the hands on his waist.

“I’m going to kiss you.”

Will nods, and just like that, Connor is kissing him. It’s like he’s imagined, not that he’s put any thought into this at all. He’s straight. He’s straight, and he’s kissing prncehrts and hands he’s intimately familiar with slip beneath his shirt and stroke along the bottom of his rib cage. This is wrong. Wrong. It feels perfect, but it’s wrong, and Will pushes at Connor’s chest and looks anywhere but at him.

“Your videos. I’ve uh, I’ve seen them.”

“Okay.”

“I’m straight.”

At that, Connor starts laughing. It’s not the sultry one he uses in videos, but something honest and open, and Will likes it even better. It’s genuine. “Dr. Halstead, if you watch my porn and just kissed me, I don’t think you’re straight.”

The elevator dings and the door opens back to the ED, because Connor wouldn’t let him go to the clinical trial ward. “I’ve got a patient to check up on.”

“Will-”

“I’m busy.”

He walks too quickly, his lips tingling with what he just did. He shouldn’t have let Connor kiss him. He shouldn’t have mentioned what he’s seen. He shouldn’t have watched any of the videos in the first place. He’s ruined everything, because he can never talk to Connor again. He’ll have to find a new job. Everything is screwed up and Will is a good three seconds from having a complete meltdown.

Except before he can even go to a patient, Connor grabs his arm and makes him stop. “Will. Listen. What happened, we can ignore it, but-”

“I’m not gay. So yeah, we can ignore what you did to me.”

It’s like a switch has been flipped. “What I ‘did to you?’ What the fuck does that mean?”

Will should shut his mouth. He should walk away. He should stop, for just a moment at the very least, but he can’t because deep down, he’s scared. He’s not gay. No can ever think he is, because Will would lose everything. His family, his friends, his job. He isn’t. He’s not gay. He’s absolutely not gay.

“I asked first-”

“No,” Will argues, “you said you were going to kiss me. You didn’t give me a choice.”

“You nodded, you kissed me back-”

“Yeah, because I didn’t wanna get the shit beat out of me by some pushy homo-”

“Wow. Fuck you, Halstead.”

“I just told you, I’m not gay. So leave me the fuck alone.”

This time when Will turns to storm away, Connor doesn’t stop him. He knows he crossed a line, that he shouldn’t have said anything, but he’s not gay. Nothing he’s ever done has been indicative of that, and it’s not his fault that Connor made assumptions because he’s gay. Or maybe not, because he had been fooling around with that woman in the video Will saw a few days ago. Who cares? Will is straight, and he’s going to put this whole day, including the issue with his patient, behind him with as much alcohol as he can drain into his system without giving himself alcohol poisoning. And he absolutely won’t be checking prncehrts tonight.

Less than an hour later, however, Will finds himself being called to Ms. Goodwin’s office. Connor is sitting in one of the chairs, arms crossed, one leg bouncing anxiously.

“A patient reported something very concerning to me, Dr. Halstead. He said that you, quote, ‘accused Dr. Rhodes of forcing you to kiss him and called him a homo.’ Is that true?”

“That’s what happened, yes.”

“We don’t tolerate homophobia at this hospital, Dr. Halstead, as I’m sure you’re aware,” she starts.

Will doesn’t let her get that far. “But you tolerate him assaulting me?”

“Dr. Rhodes told me his side of the story, and the cameras back it up. You nodded when he asked permission, you pulled him closer. If you have… feelings for Dr. Rhodes, or are exploring your sexuality, that’s one thing, but your language was inappropriate.”

“So what, you’re going to write me up?”

“Dr. Rhodes specifically asked me not to. Why, I don’t know. But I don’t ever want to hear about this again, from either of you, am I clear?”

“Yes ma’am,” they both say, and they’re dismissed for now, but Will feels like he’s going to throw up because he hates being reprimanded, and absolutely hates feeling as though he’s disappointed an authority figure.

“Next time you have a crisis,” Connor says before they go their separate ways, “don’t use me as your little experiment and accuse me of… whatever that was.”

Just like that, they don’t interact for the last couple hours of Will’s shift, thankfully, and he’s able to go home and drink in the dark. And when he gets the buzz of a notification that prncehrts’ instagram, which is more suggestive than outright sexual, has posted again. He shouldn’t click on it, especially given what happened today.

But Will doesn’t have much self control, and he opens the notification anyways to a photo of Connor’s chest, starting just below his jaw and going all the way down to follow where his hair thickens into an obvious happy trail that would be fun to trace with Will’s fingers. He never would, but he has the thought.

Rough day. Livestream on my premium tonight to help destress?

All the comments are affirmatives, emojis, dirty words that make Will feel like his chest is folding in on himself and he isn’t entirely sure why. He also isn’t entirely sure why he opens up his computer to the premium account and joins the livestream, which hasn’t quite started yet. Connor is just kneeling in front of the camera, hands folded on his thighs and covering his crotch almost modestly.

The chat is going a mile a minute. Compliments. Demands. Will’s never said anything in these before, and isn’t about to start now, but he feels like he should say something. He has to say something. He doesn’t, though, he just watches.

“I’m gonna be honest with you all,” Connor says. Well, he’s not Connor, Will thinks. He’s prncehrts. They have different personalities. Act differently. “I’m not doing this stream for you, or for me. I’ve got this friend- acquaintance more like. Apparently, he’s one of you. He likes to watch.” Connor pauses, probably scanning the chat. “Yes, yes, I know, I’m not giving you a show yet. Be patient. He and I had an interesting day, and I got this feeling that he’d be watching. Are you watching?”

“I’m watching,” Will says in the silence of his bedroom. “Always.”

“This is a stupid idea, but you know, I figured I might as well have some fun. I'll be taking requests tonight from anyone who gives them, but you know, if you admit you're watching, I'll just listen to you. I know you want that, don't you? That's why you watch. So now's your chance."

It's obviously baiting. Connor wants to prove that Will isn't straight, that there's something wrong with him, that he’s not what he should be. He shouldn’t do this. He should close out of the window. Instead, he holds his phone tightly and debates sending Connor a text. It would be so easy. But the fact is, Will isn’t gay, and it’s one thing to just look, but another entirely to dictate what happens.

He’s still watching, though, when Connor begins taking commands from the chat and starts touching himself, shifting restlessly into the touch of his own hand, a hand that had felt blisteringly hot on Will’s skin only a few hours ago. Every slightest movement is mesmerizing, but nothing as much so as the way Connor keeps biting his lips around the softest moans.

“C’mon. Text me, call me. You know I’ll answer it. Whatever you’re scared of, don’t be.”

Connor stops his hand movements and whimpers, clearly following someone’s instructions in the chat. A lot of his viewers like to see him desperate. But if Will was there, that’s not what he’d be like. He’d just want to make Connor feel good, make him smile and moan and be happy. Not that Will has ever thought about what it would feel like, or would he would do given the opportunity.

Will picks up his cell phone and his fingers dance over the keypad without permission. He can’t help himself. He types, and presses send, and then drops his phone before he can think about it any more. All he does is watch. About a minute later, there’s an audible buzz on the livestream, and Connor picks up his phone.

“Aww, guys,” he says, “my dear Romeo just sent me his address. I guess that means we’re finished for now. But I promise, next video will be lots of fun.”

Blowing one last kiss to the camera, Connor ends the livestream and Will slams his computer shut. What did he do? His lungs aren’t working, and he doesn’t know why he did that because he’s not fucking gay. He should text Connor back and tell him not to come over, or clean up his apartment, or do something other than sit here, still in his scrubs, his phone in one hand and a half bottle of beer in the other.

For fifteen minutes, he stays there in indecision until someone knocks on his door, and he knows it’s Connor. He shouldn’t open the door. All of this was a mistake and he’s about to cry. But he goes to the door nonetheless. Smooths down his shirt. Opens the front door to reveal Connor standing there in a tee shirt and sweatpants. There’s no smile on his face.

“I was watching.”

“No kidding.” Connor strolls inside and throws himself down on the couch like he belongs here. He does, in a sense. He was invited. “I knew you would be.”

Will sits down on the coffee table across from him, still holding his beer bottle loosely. “Listen, I uh, I don’t think I want you to, uh, to- to-”

“You think I’d walk in here and just take off my pants, let you fuck me over your kitchen counter?”

“I…”

He laughs that genuine laugh again, the one that fills Will with warmth. “Listen. I get it. You’re repressed as fuck and I’m your nice little experiment and you never actually meant to meet me in person. It’s awkward. If you wanna watch my videos, look at my pictures, then by all means, since you’re paying me to look. But I don’t much appreciate whatever your little meltdown was today, got that? I’m willing to help you out, if you really do wanna ‘explore’ or whatever. But no more bullshit. If I help you, if we fool around, no more of that ‘I’m not gay’ crap.”

“But I’m not.”

Connor rolls his eyes. “And yet, you still watched the livestream.”

Will leans forward a little, enough to reach out a hand and cup Connor’s face. It’s warm, his stubble rough, and his eyes so soft and affectionate. Or something like that. No one has ever really looked at Will like that, except maybe the ex-girlfriend he shared one dull night with in his college days. There’s still a part of him that screams this is wrong, but a louder voice tells him this is the most natural thing he’s ever done.

“You’re in charge here. What do you want?”

He gets off the table to kneel in front of Connor and kiss him, this time without pretenses. It’s a strange feeling, but it makes him feel warm from his lips to his toes and everywhere in between. And better yet, Connor kisses him back, and it’s perfect. This is perfect.

Then it ends. Not because he wanted it to, but because Connor has decided to sit up properly, and he looks so beautiful with pink cheeks and swollen lips and blown wide pupils, all the things that the camera doesn’t show. Here, there’s no ambiguity on what’s happening, and every choice has been placed in Will’s hands so he can’t claim later that it wasn’t his fault or his desire.

“Can I… Can I touch you?”

“Where?” Connor asks softly.

Instead of coming out of his mouth, the words stick like peanut butter and Will can’t make himself say it. He gestures at Connor’s lower stomach, hoping it’s good enough.

“You want to touch my dick?”

Has to be crass, doesn’t he? Will nods, and Connor takes one of his wrists gently and guides it to the crotch of his sweatpants. There’s a bulge beneath the fabric, but he’s not entirely hard yet. Carefully, Will curls his fingers around it and moves his hand just a bit, like he was rubbing himself off through his clothes because it can’t be that different. Of course, he feels Connor slowly get hard, hears his breathing get heavier and faster.

“Just like that, Sunshine,”

Those words shoot down Will’s spine, and he asks, “Can you kiss me again?”

Connor immediately acquiesces, kisses him with a little more intensity. It’s nice, but Will craves more. He wants to be closer, touch more, do more, and for once his brain isn’t reminding him all the things that are wrong with what he’s doing right now. It feels good, and he needs just a little bit more, but he isn’t sure what that would mean.

“You wanna sit in my lap? Might be more comfortable.”

Yes, that sounds wonderful, sounds perfect. Will nods, and suddenly he’s being lifted into Connor’s lap and he can feel, against his ass, how hard Connor is, and that’s something he did. He caused that. With his own hand. In all honesty, Will doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he remembers that in a lot of videos Connor likes to grind against things, so maybe he could be one of those. He squirms a little, not entirely sure of what he’s doing, which makes Connor grab his hips tightly and throw his head back against the couch and make the most intoxicating sound Will thinks he’s ever heard.

“Do that again.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Connor says breathlessly. Now he’s the one moving, lifting his hips off the couch and rubbing himself against Will’s ass. “Do you want me to touch you?”

“Yes?”

Connor stops moving altogether, which is the worst possible thing that could have happened, in Will’s opinion. “Is that a question or an answer?”

“Yes, please touch me.”

“Look at you, so polite.”

He kisses Will again, and then slides a hand between them to wrap around Will’s cock, his palm almost stiflingly hot through the thin fabric of his scrubs. It’s like all the times he’s touched himself, but more, because this is someone else’s hand. This is Connor’s hand, specifically. There’s another man here, touching his dick, rubbing a thumb against the head in a way that has him struggling not to moan, but Will is straight. He doesn’t like men. At this moment, he isn’t sure if he wants to keep going or jump away and throw up into the sink. His chest is fluttering like a butterfly’s wings in a storm.

“What happens next?” he asks between breathless kisses, which, of course, makes Connor laugh all over again.

“Whatever you want. We can just do this, we can stop, we can get naked. It’s all up to you.”

There’s nothing to hide behind now. If Will wants something, he has to ask, and he almost doesn’t want to because it’s easier to just stop now. But he doesn’t want to. He slips his hands under Connor’s shirt and just feels, because he can touch and there’s no reason not to. The hair on his chest is more wiry than soft, he notes, and keeps touching because he can, and he’s allowed to do whatever he chooses right now.

He could come like this. It’s embarrassing as hell, but he might, in his pants, the way he does when rolling his hips into his palm while watching Connor’s videos. The real thing is different, especially the way Connor touches him, the way he feels still grinding up against Will’s ass and moaning without pretense because this is not a show designed to please a viewer. Yet again, he finds himself in love with the real Connor, not the version of him that he sells online.

“I wanna make- I wanna make it good for you,” Will admits. “How do I do that?”

“This feels good enough-”

Will groans and presses his hands harder against Connor’s chest. “I don’t care about ‘good enough.’ I want to- how do I do more?"

“Are you asking if you can fuck me?”

“I don’t know?”

“Do you even have lube?”

He shakes his head, which gets Connor smiling at him again, and it’s blinding. Life changing. “Like I said when I got here, we’re not doing that tonight. I’ll help you get off, but that’s as far as we’re going for now. Okay?”

For now is an implication of more to come later, that Connor will give him the opportunity to do more than whatever is happening now. Will won’t take it, but the thought feels nice. He nods and keeps feeling, touching, taking as Connor makes both of them feel good in a way Will has never experienced before in his life.

“Connor…”

“Don’t. Whatever stupid shit you’re gonna ask me, don’t.”

“No, I- it um, I think…”

Connor rolls his eyes. “You’re going to come?”

Nodding, Will shuts his eyes and focuses on the way all of this feels, the way it overwhelms him. The way Connor takes care of him. He doesn’t have to think, just this once. Instead, he thinks about the way it feels to be touched, to touch, to know that he can do this because it’s good and maybe, just this once, Will deserves something that’s good. Connor doesn’t hesitate, or stop. He keeps touching, keeps making Will feel like he’s on cloud nine, and then the sensations crest and the next thing he knows his eyes are squeezed shut and his face is against Connor’s, cheek to cheek, touching, and it’s perfect.

Then it’s over, but Connor hasn’t stopped moving. He’s still rolling his hips up into Will, still breathing heavy and still needing to be taken care of, and Will panics because he’s past the moment of ecstacy, and he’s here, in a man’s lap, and what just happened isn’t right.

Will stands up and stumbles on shaky legs toward the kitchen. His underwear are wet. Connor is talking to him, but he doesn’t hear it, doesn’t hear anything but the blood rushing in his ears as his hands grab onto the edge of his counter and he leans over his sink to throw up. The magic is gone. All that’s left is pain and fear and disgust and Will has tears on his face.

“Hey, hey, Will? What’s wrong?”

“I’m not gay!”

Connor is quiet, then. Will can feel his presence just a few inches away, wanting to comfort but afraid to touch, his breath still not entirely under control. He doesn’t retort, or bring up what he said when he got here, but just stands there in silence beside Will as he dry heaves over the sink. The smell is awful.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

The second he touches Will’s back, Will jerks away. “Don’t fucking touch me, fuck, fuck-”

“You need to calm down,” Connor says in his ‘crazy patient’ voice. “Will, just a few minutes ago, you were asking about having real sex. Now, you’re… you need to know that it’s okay to like men, Will. There’s nothing wrong with it, wrong with you.”

“Yes there is! Oh my God. I’m gonna throw up again.”

He just dry heaves for the millionth time. But Connor is still there, and rubs between his shoulder blades until he stops. Then he guides him away, toward the hallway, and opens doors until he finds the bathroom.

“You take a hot shower and calm down. I’m gonna let myself out, and you’ll be on your own. If you need, or want, anything, you can always call me. I’ll cover for you if you wanna call out tomorrow. But really, Will, I promise, there’s nothing wrong with liking men.”

Connor leaves, then, and Will looks at his reflection. His hair is all messy and his cheeks are flushed cherry red. But he also sees what’s not there. Imprints of Connor’s hands on him. He’s dirty. He’s broken. He wants to claw off his skin, make this feeling go away. It would be easier.

Instead, he turns the shower on as hot as it gets, strips off his soiled clothes, and steps beneath the spray. Maybe it’ll clear him. He lets the water wash away what he did, even if it still clings in spite of his best efforts to wash everything away. He did something he shouldn’t have, touched something he shouldn’t have. He’s not fucking gay. If his stomach wasn’t empty, he might throw up all over again.

He scrubs himself raw, three times over, before getting out and surrounding himself in a fluffy bath towel. He walks slow, careful, to bed and buries himself in his covers still not completely dried off. It doesn’t matter. First thing in the morning, he has to go to work, and see Connor, and he knows he won’t be able to stop thinking about what happened tonight, especially if he sees Connor. He should call out.

Instead of doing either of those things, he falls asleep.

When he wakes up, it’s because his phone is ringing loudly- not his pager though, which means it’s not the hospital. He smacks it twice before getting a hand around it and sliding the answer button. “Hmm?”

“Hey, I wanted to check on you.”

He damn near throws the phone across the room. ‘What do you want, Connor?”

“Like I said, I wanted to check on you. You seemed pretty freaked out last night, and I uh, I feel bad about it. Thought I should make sure you’re okay. And if you’re up to it, I could come make you breakfast? Eggs, bacon, some orange juice. Maybe pancakes. Whatever you want.”

“Connor.”

“Please, let me? I promise I won’t do anything untoward.”

Will sits up and pushes his hair out of his face. “Okay, but I don’t have anything here.”

“I’ll stop by the store, don’t worry. See you in ten to fifteen.”

Connor hands up, then, and Will is left to think about what this means. Over the last day, things have been confusing, terrifying, wrong. He isn’t sure what happens now. Obviously, Connor is angry with him, and this could very well be an excuse to yell at him or hurt him. The last thing Will should’ve done is say yes. But it’s too late now, so he just forces himself out of bed and puts on clean clothes, runs his hands through his hair to try and tame it. There isn’t time. He doesn’t have time.

The time goes so quickly, but also too slowly, until someone knocks on his door and he opens it for Connor, arms laden with two grocery bags and dark bags under his eyes like he didn’t sleep last night, like he took this harder than Will did.

“You’ll have to show me where the dishes are,” Connor says.

Nothing else. He’s quiet, but proud in the way he stands with his shoulders in a perfect line, the way his torso cuts in slimmer at his waist, the way his hip cocks outward to shut a drawer after pulling a spatula free. He’s cracking the eggs in the blink of an eye, whisking them together in a bowl as he throws butter into the pan, and it feels domestic. Like something that would happen if they loved each other, if they had something worthwhile.

“I-”

“Shush,” Connor says. “I’m making you breakfast, and while you eat, I’m going to talk and you’re going to listen. Am I clear?”

Will nods and takes a seat at his table to just watch, because he can’t do anything better. Connor fries bacon as he scrambles eggs, humming to himself, too at ease for what happened between them. But it’s peaceful, and Will almost enjoys watching. The smell of something good cooking in his house, the crackling sound of grease, the slow bubble of orange juice poured into a glass. The last time someone cooked for him had to be before he left home.

It only takes a few minutes, but then a plate is served in front of him alongside a glass, and Connor smiles at him before sitting down. He has this urge to kiss him, but Will knows better. He’s not gay. And he’s fucked up enough at one time. So he doesn’t, he just cuts into the egg with his fork and starts eating while Connor studies him closely.

“Obviously, I made a mistake last night. Not because you aren’t attractive, but because it’s clear that you aren’t ready to admit that you’re gay, or bi, or- in whatever capacity- attracted to men. What happened last night, me coming over here, it wasn’t okay. Not for you, and absolutely not for me. It is not my job to coddle you, or show you the ropes, or help you through your crisis. It’s not fair to me.”

It isn’t fair, but Will wants it in a way he can’t entirely understand.

“So I’m not going to keep this up. I’m not going to kiss you, I’m not going to touch you, and I’m certainly not going to provoke you. That livestream, what I said was inappropriate. My actions, both then and everything that came after, weren’t okay, and I’m sorry for that.”

Connor shifts in his seat, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. WIll’s always hated his wallet, because it’s made of that expensive leather and it’s thick and he has all these cards and all this cash in it. Not because of his second job, but because the world has always been in Connor’s back pocket. It’s no wonder he never had to worry about being read as gay.

He pulls out two business cards and sets them on the table in front of Will. One has an icon on it of a heart, half rainbow and half some weird stripe design of blue, pink and white. The other is more professional and sleek.

“These are for people who can help. That one, that’s a support group I went to when I was younger. Maybe sixteen, seventeen. I went for a couple. It’s full of people of all ages, just like you, who are figuring out who they are. And this one is for a really good therapist who helps people struggling with their identity. Some of them are gay, or trans, or just people who are having an identity crisis about who they wanna be when they grow up. Either of them, or both, could really help you. But it isn’t my job, okay? I’ll support you however you want or need, but it isn’t my job to completely get you through this.”

Will picks up the two cards. They’re slick, smooth in his hand. Light as a feather but still incredibly heavy with their meaning. He holds them, looks at the little heart on the first card and wonders what it would be like just to go, just to see other people like him who might be struggling with the same thoughts.

“What’s the other half of this,” he asks instead of trying to keep processing. “Next to the rainbow.”

“That’s the trans pride flag. You know what that is, I assume?”

“Yeah, I know what being transgender is.”

Connor nods and Will doesn’t know entirely what to do next besides keep eating and stare at the cards.

“Just remember, you don’t have to go through this alone. Me, and the people on these business cards, we’re all family.”

[viktory-arts]

But It's a Really Long Song Chapter 3: Mayu Ito, Jaqueline Kimiki, and Lizzy Phenton

The thump thump thump of the basketball hitting the floor as Mayu held her hand up for her follow-through, sweat beading down her pale face, sounded like magic to her ears. She smiled brightly into the fluorescent lights above. She put her arm down when she heard the gym door open, turning to look at the source of the movement. 

Lizzy Phenton, the talk of the school, walked through, angry expression and bad attitude in tow. 

Mayu was surprised, to say the least when she saw the small girl making her way towards her, Lizzy’s fists clenched tightly, her steps faint, even against the echoing of the gym’s roominess. 

Jaqueline, having seen the girl walking in, looked to Mayu, a question in her bright green eyes. “Do you need help?” Mayu locked gazes with her for a second, but then decidedly shook her head “No”.

“How can I help you, Ms. Phenton?” Mayu said to the freshmen when she got close enough for a comfortable talking distance. Lizzy mumbled, her already tightly clenched fists tightening even more than before. Mayu was a little nervous that Lizzy would cause her hands to bleed if she kept that up.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you.” Mayu requested kindly, hoping for the girl not to take offense to her poor hearing, even if it was Lizzy’s fault for talking so quietly.

“Mr. MacNamara said I needed to join a- an extracurricular.” She paused, and Mayu gave her a look with a gentle “go-on” look about it. “So I decided basketball.” She trailed off at the end, and it dawned on Mayu.

She’s nervous.

Mayu, now with this revelation, smiles softly at the young girl before her, and nods slightly.

“Alright. We start next Wednesday, the 28th.” Lizzy looked a little lost at the sudden acceptance of her being on the team. She then put on her normal expression, one of cool aloofness, with the corners of her lips and her eyebrows dipped-down slightly.

“W-What-” Lizzy cut herself off, blushing slightly at her stuttering and her face goes a little angrier than before, no doubt frustrated with herself. Mayu merely waited patiently, hoping that being quiet would help more than pressuring her to answer by prompting her.

“What do I n-need to bring to practice?” She asked softly and quietly. Mayu thought for a moment.

“Well, you’ll need basketball shoes, sports clothes, basketball socks, a water bottle…” Lizzy waited quietly as she waited for Mayu to finish her thought, beginning to chew on the inside of her cheek while she did wait. She hated talking to people, especially when they got all quiet and left a huge silence. She never knew if she was supposed to fill it or not? Is that what you’re supposed to do?

“...Hey, are you listening?” Mayu asked with a concerned look on her face. Lizzy snapped out of her thoughts and blushed profusely, glaring down at the floor. What does she do now? It was so rude of her not to listen! What is she supposed to do? She can’t say she wasn’t paying attention! What…

While Lizzy was working herself up into quite the tizzy, Mayu looked at the girl, and saw her chest heaving up and down a little bit more than normal, her breaths coming short and quick. Mayu immediately realized what was going on and began to talk quietly to the girl.

“Hey, it’s alright. No harm done, yeah?” She said and Lizzy whipped her head up from glaring at the ground to glaring at her. Mayu had to admit, Lizzy could put on quite the mean face if she wanted to, if it wasn’t for her eyes that were sparkling in frustration, and tears welling up at the edges of her dark blue eyes. 

“Hey, calm down, it’s alright Lizzy. I’ll just repeat what I said, okay?” Mayu spoke calmly to the silently freaking out girl. “It’s no big, don’t sweat it.” Lizzy’s guarded look was back full force, and her breathing seemed to be back under control.

Mayu cleared her throat and repeated what she said, going over to her bag as she did so, Lizzy tailing not very far behind.

“You’ll need to have one of your parents sign this permission slip, do a physical, and pay the pay-to-play fee.” Mayu said and handed Lizzy the papers. 

“You can get a physical at the school for free on the 26th. Just make sure you hand me or Coach Seaburg the physical before the 28th, otherwise you can’t play until you get it in.” Lizzy nodded and sorted through the papers with a careful eye. She then nodded her head again, probably in affirmation.

“Thank you.” Lizzy quietly mumbled, and turned around to the big gym doors and exited, letting the weighted door close silently behind her. Jaqueline, who had been practicing shooting up until now, walked her way over to Mayu and gave her a questioning look.

“What’d Phenton want?” She asked, though Mayu was sure that she had been eavesdropping on them. Mayu shrugged.

“Mr. MacNamara wanted her to join an extracurricular, so she chose the basketball team.” Mayu said simply and jogged lightly over to her forgotten ball on the floor, picking it up and dribbling it lazy as she stalked back over to a lost-in-thought Jaqueline.

“Hmm, I’ve heard some rumors that Phenton and Goings don’t get along real well.” She gave Starr a look. “That could cause a lotta problems.” Jaqueline turned to the basket again and set up to shoot. It bounced off the rim slightly, and fell to the floor with a resounding thud.

“Personally, I’m not too fond of the girl either. The few times I’ve seen ‘er she’s been yellin’ at something or other, or not payin’ attention in class.” Jaqueline paused. “‘Course, I don’t know the girl all that well, so I can’t be certain of ‘er.” Mayu sighed and went over to pick up the ball that Jaqueline had just shot. She passed the ball back to Jaqueline, who responded with a quick “thank you”.

“Want my opinion?” Mayu asked, and Jaqueline nodded with a small “‘Course.” 

“I think that Lizzy just has a rough life. Plain and simple.” Jaqueline moved her mouth to interrupt, but Mayu held a pale hand up in response. “It doesn’t excuse her actions, especially for yelling and getting pissy with those who don’t deserve it. But,” Mayu paused, “if you would’ve seen her a minute ago, I think you’d be on the same page as me. I think her anger is just misinterpreted.” Jaqueline raised one thick black eyebrow and her deep brown eyes asked the question for her.

“She was really anxious when she was talking to me. She got really mad at herself when she messed up a couple words.” Jaqueline opened her mouth into a tiny “o”, getting what Mayu was saying.

“So yer sayin’ that Phenton’s probably just anxious, an’ that’s why she’s so pissy all o’ the time?” Jaqueline said and Mayu nodded and smiled. 

“Yeah, but,” Mayu sighed, “she always could just be a jerk anyways. That was the first time I’ve talked to her, after all.” Jaqueline shrugged and shot the ball again, this time it made it with a gentle swoosh of the net.

“Guess we’ll find out next Wednesday.” Jaqueline said simply and Mayu smiled and nodded.

“Suppose you’re right.” She ran to the ball cart, unaware of the watchful eyes of Lizzy Phenton watching the two girls from the small crack in the door. As Mayu ran forwards to grab another ball, Lizzy shut it gently and speed-walked away from the gym for real this time.

Mayu thought she saw the door move, but when it didn’t for another second, she shrugged it off and went to pick up another basketball, not thinking anything of the slightly-weird occurrence. 

[purplesurveys]

568

Have you ever had a really bad haircut? I haven’t had any truly awful ones. The only time I felt ‘meh’ about a haircut was when I went to the salon on my own and told the hairdresser what I wanted myself. I was never good at that kind of stuff, and always prefer being with someone so they can tell me if I’m headed somewhere good or otherwise. Did you ever order any clothes from the Alloy catalogue? I’ve never heard of that. What brand, color, and type is your favorite eyeliner? I’ve only ever used eyeliner at one point in my life and I’ve forgotten every detail about it. It was black, though. Do you wear eyeliner? I used to. I wanted to look nice post-breakup, so I learned how to do makeup to feel good about myself. Was there ever a time in your life when you couldn't cry? I guess when I have HAD to cry in the past, as in for a skit, I couldn’t. But I can be triggered and cry very easily otherwise.

What's your favorite type of yogurt? I hate yogurt, I hate everything that’s sour (except for sour tapes, but even those I can only handle at a certain level of sourness haha). What posters did you have on your wall as a teenager? Wrestling. My mom took them down for no reason eventually, even though I loved having them up on my wall. What are your favorite type of calendars? I mean I don’t obsess over calendars enough to have a favorite type? so a digital one on my phone and laptop is fine with me. I do sometimes wish I was rich enough just to be able to spend on those novelty calendars with Audrey Hepburn photos and Monet paintings in every month, though. Do you have a full-length mirror? I used to but it got transferred to my sister’s room. I don’t mind it though; I don’t use mirrors all that much. When was the last time you bought stamps? Elementary school, probably. Do you have any overdue library books right now? HAH, yes I do actually. It was a book I needed to do a Powerpoint on, and I completely forgot that its due date was on the 4th. The fee is like ₱2/day so I’ll have to pay around ₱8 to ₱10 by next week, depending on when I’ll feel like returning the book. How often do you do laundry? I don’t; my mom prefers to do it herself. Do you have a piggy bank? Maybe as a kid, but I never took it seriously because I didn’t sit well with the fact that I couldn’t see the money I’ve been saving. I’ve stuck with a good old wallet ever since, just so I can know my progress. Do you remember your locker combinations from high school? I don’t, actually. I wonder what numbers I used to secure my locks :o What's your favorite DIY crafts youtube channel? Aren’t a lot of those misleading and downright fake? Could you spend hours on pinterest? I’ve never spent more than five minutes at one time on that website/app. Do you own plaid pants? Nah, it’s not really my style. Have you ever had to wear a school uniform? I had to wear my school’s uniform for 14 straight years. All I ever wore Monday through Friday for that span of time. What was your high school's mascot? We don’t have a mascot; we just have school colors. What were your high school's team colors? Gold, white, blue. Who were your best friends in high school? Angela, Gabie, Athenna, and Sofie. Others I was close with were Chelsea, Kaira, and Fern. Who was your first boyfriend or girlfriend? Gab. Have you ever been to Chicago? Nope but it’s a dream. If yes, what do you like best about it? The FOOD, the culture, the museums. Have you ever stayed in a hostel? Nope, never been. Would you rather sleep on the top bunk or bottom bunk? Bottom. I wouldn’t like sleeping somewhere that felt unnatural, and lying down way high from the floor is definitely one of those things. Do you love camping? I’ve never tried, so I don’t know. Would you rather sleep in a tent or under the stars? Lie under the stars for as long as I can, then pass out in a tent. What insects are you afraid of? Cockroaches. Have you ever had a secret admirer that left you notes? I haven’t. Are you close with your cousins? I have a good relationship with most of my cousins, mom’s side; but I’m especially close with my eldest cousin, who I essentially view as my older brother. I’m so-so with cousins on my dad’s side - we were very close as kids, but they moved further to the south and I never really get to see them anymore, so we grew more shy as the years passed.  Are you close to any aunts or uncles? I love my mom’s cousins; they’re all younger than her and they’re mostly late Gen X-ers so they’re more hip and cool hahaha. I wouldn’t say we’re close but they are definitely much easier to talk to than other older relatives. Are you close to your grandparents? I seldom get to see my paternal grandparents because they live with the ^ same cousins I’ve since grown quite distant from, so I wouldn’t say I’m close to them but of course I love them all the same. I was very close with my maternal grandfather when he was still alive as I always knew what to do to make him laugh; and I am also crazy for my maternal grandmother, although in the last few years she’s been all about Jesus so sometimes it gets a little draining hearing about how I should always pray and that “God can answer all [my] problems.” Still love her loads, though. Who betrayed your trust? A friend did, many years ago. Who was your first best friend (apart from a sibling)? Bold of you to assume a sibling was my first best friend, because you’re wrong lol. I’d consider this girl we calle Kaye the first one; we were class number buddies in Kinder 1 (I was 4, she was 5) so we got close quickly. She changed schools by Grade 1 and I haven’t talked to her since, but I still remember her fondly. What was your favorite thing to do at sleepovers when you were younger? I was never allowed at sleepovers when I was a kid. What kind of popcorn is your favorite? Sweet-flavored ones. I could never take dry-ass plain/salted popcorn. It has to be something like salted caramel or parmesan. Does your town have a big fountain in it? If we do have one, I’ve never seen it. But I’m pretty sure we don’t. What is your town known for? For being on a mountain and being ridiculously hard to get to because 1) of its winding, accident-prone roads, and 2) IT’S ON A MOUNTAIN. I live in the area of Antipolo just before you start to go up, so I don’t get offended much by the complaints of everyone else; but I’m in solidarity nonetheless with the ~mountain-dwellers~ just because I used to go to school in upper Antipolo. Do you currently live in the city you grew up in? I mostly grew up in Antipolo, so yes I still live here. I did live in Manila in my early childhood but that time was much shorter than the time I’ve spent in my current city. What's one way in which you're behind the times? I hate Minecraft and I hate Fortnite even more. What's one way in which you're still a child? I love coloring books :) What's one way in which you're old? I have a bad back. Do you feel old or young? Or do you feel both at different times? Definitely feel a bit of both, depending on my mood. The perfect example could be that I can be annoyed seeing younger kids make so much noise, but the next day I can be exactly like those kids making a bunch of noise with my friends. How old are you? I am 21. Do you know what you want to do for your next birthday? No, not yet. Quite early to think about at this point, really. If yes, what is it? A private dinner would already sound perfect. What is the last new thing you discovered that was really good? Vaping. I mean don’t try it if you haven’t already, but yeah. What would be the best surprise you could receive right now? Tbh if my mom came home carrying a box of Yellow Cab pizza. AKA something that would NEVER happen; she snobs Yellow Cab cos she thinks they’re too expensive for pizza. Do you usually forgive when someone hurts your or try to get revenge? I get my revenge, subtly. Were there any subjects in school that were really easy for you? Our subject Language, which was mandatory back in elementary school, was literally basic English grammar. Not everyone in my former school spoke fluent English so a lot of them weren’t all that good at the subject; but for people like me who had a solid grasp of English and read a lot to begin with, the class was basically a breather from the other more difficult classes. If so, what? ^ I already told ya all about it. Did you ever skip a grade or get held back a grade? Skipping grades isn’t a thing in my former school which is honestly a good thing for me cos it would have bred a lot of competition. But students would have to repeat a level if their grades showed that they had to; I wasn’t one of them. What time of day were you born? 9:11 in the evening. What is the best hairstyle you've ever had? I loved my layered hair like 10 years ago. It was probably the only time I did something to my hair that wasn’t just a trim, so I enjoyed that experience. I also liked cutting my hair way, way too short last year; it was a bold move but I liked how it look, as did everyone else. Do you think you look better with dyed hair or natural hair? I’ve never tried dyeing my hair so I wouldn’t know. Do you think your look better with curly hair or straight hair? Curly, I think. Do you have bangs? I have baby bangs but they’re just stubborn hair standing around my head lmao but no I don’t have actual bangs. Do you think you look better with bangs or without? I haven’t tried getting bangs as an adult. I did look cute with them as a toddler though :( Do you think you look better with long hair or short? Long. What's your favorite rock band? Paramore, if they still count. Who's your favorite country singer? None. Do you ever listen to Celtic music? No. Do you listen to Hillsong? No. Did you try the unicorn frappuccino, and if yes, were you a fan? No I never tried it. Have you ever won a contest? I won a school quiz bee and an essay writing contest before, but I wouldn’t call the latter legitimate. It was just a writing contest about wrestling held by a local TV station and the three best entries got to win WWE t-shirts haha. Have you ever wanted to be a model, actress, singer, or dancer? I wanted to be a model when I was like 12. No fucking clue what was going through my head at the time. When you look at your baby pictures, do you recognize yourself? Sure. Has your hair color changed since you were a toddler? Nope. Do you wear matching socks? Yes. How many drawers does your dresser have? Three. Do you own an American flag shirt? No thanks. Do you own a British flag shirt? I don’t. The Union Jack got overused by 2011 Tumblr, honestly. Do you have a seashell collection? I don’t. Aren’t we prohibited from getting those from beaches? That’s the case in the Philippines, anyway. Do you have a rock collection? I do not. Do you decorate for Halloween? We didn’t decorate the house but I celebrated it with friends this year. What is your favorite thing to do in the pool? Float around and relax. Flamingos or pineapples? ??? Flamingos, I guess? Cacti or seashells? Seashells. Maple tree or palm tree? Palm tree. Dreamcatcher or wind chimes? Dreamcatchers! Have you ever taken a picture at the perfect moment? I probably have at few points. Do you have a crush right now? Yes. What color was your first car? My first and current car is white. Was your first car used or new? I’m actually not sure. It was my dad who purchased it. Do you have a car now? Yep. What color(s) eyeshadow do you wear the most? I never wear any.

[wolfpawn]

When Ghosts Come For Us

Chapter 50

NOTE This is based on the movie Crimson Peak, so if any of the subject matter in that was uncomfortable for you, you will find this similar. I will *NOT* be describing incest in this, it will only be implied, same as the movie.

As I have stated already, my laptop is broken at present so please excuse grammar mistakes and the lack of GIFs and pics.

Also, I do not own any image or gif used in this story.

HERE is the link to Chapter 1 on Ao3

Rating - Mature

“I’m fine.” “Lady Sharpe...” “Mrs Matthews, I said I am fine, please, my letters and some writing material,” Charlotte ordered before shifting slightly. “Perhaps a blanket behind my back?” Margaret immediately complied, recalling when Charlotte was on forced bedrest carrying Thomas Jr and liked to sit up in the bed. “Thank you.” It had been over two weeks since she had caught pneumonia and had been forced to fight for her life. She was grateful at least that she was so delirious with fever, she had not felt her body be forced to cease making milk. According to one of the nursemaids, that was horrid and meant burning and painful breasts. “Little graces” Charlotte had called it. She was still weak, her voice was barely more than a whisper as her throat was still recovering and she was only about to drink liquidised meals and most of which seemed to be chicken soup, but she was fine with it. She did not mind the meal and she could feel her body strengthen with every bowl.

She demanded that Thomas be brought in twice a day to her again. She knew she was too weak to even hold him, but she wanted to see him and have him see her. She was terrified that he would forget her in their time apart and that would hurt her more than any beating her parents ever inflicted on her. She had decided to write to her brother and her husband.

As Thomas suspected, as soon as she was over the fever stage, she was adamant she would defeat her illness and under no circumstance was he to engineer a situation where Mr Brown would gain from them any more than they had to bribe him with. Her first order when given a piece of paper to write with in her weakened state was to telegram Thomas and tell him to stay in Allerdale Hall and ready everything. She knew as well as Thomas that Mr Brown would see that the mines were more profitable than even they had thought it would be and with the local police station being the first of many new and local contracts they had been asked for, there was high chance that if he would not go for Charlotte’s fortune but that he would focus on the mine’s deeds and she could not allow that. That was her son’s future, his guarantee of wealth after she left this world and there was no way she would risk it. If she were to die, she would still die with or without Thomas being in Pembrokeshire.

Dearest Edward,

I miss you terribly. I know that were you here, you would have my head hurting from the lectures of what was I thinking. I can even hear your voice as you say it, that little vein in your forehead only fit to pop because of the frustration my actions have caused you. I am so sorry, big brother. I am sorry for the stress and concern I have thrust upon you. I am fine, tired, worn and more than a little cold, but fine, nonetheless.

I have done nothing but eat chicken soup these past two weeks, I fear if I eat much more, I will begin to grow feathers!

I finally seem to be able to wiggle my toes again. I was worried for a time, they seemed reluctant to even work, all I felt there was coldness, it was not pleasant. I had to be bought workmen’s socks, several pairs. I look ridiculous, I think you would find it funny also.

I love you, Edward, so very much. While I was ill, I thought of you. I dreamt that you and Joanne wed and that you had a little girl with the most beautiful auburn hair. I do not know why I saw her with that particular colour hair, you are blonde haired and Joanne is brown, but if you saw her, I wanted to cuddle her so tight, she was the most beautiful little thing. She looked a lot like you. I hope it comes to pass. It brought me joy in my sickness.

Tell Joanne I think of her too, and Mrs Davies, of course. I hope to embarrass you many times more with her come spring. I think when I return to Cumbria, I will make more time to visit her and you too, I suppose (I jest). I realise here how alone I am, even in Allerdale Hall. It is unhealthy and I will have to rectify that.

I fear I must rest now. I did not think writing would exhaust me so, yet I find myself fighting sleep now.

I love you, Edward.

Please look out for Thomas if you see him.

Charlotte.

She forced herself to stay awake long enough to write the address and seal the letter. “Margaret?” “Yes Ma’am?” her ever faithful maid was to her side a moment later.

“Keep these together. I have written to Dr Thompson of what was said of my condition, I will write to my husband when I wake.” “Of course, Ma’am. I will not have Dr Thompson’s posted until you write to Sir Thomas,” Margaret swore as she took the small tray Charlotte had been using to write on away. “Thank you. I just need a small rest.” With that, she lay her head on the pillow and closed her eyes.

Used to her routine from when she had served Charlotte on bedrest, Margaret removed the extra blanket behind Charlotte and placed it to the side, knowing it caused her back to arch too much as she slept before going and informing Mrs Matthews of such.

*

“What was she like in Cumbria?” Jane, the maid who shared with Margaret asked.

“She is so lovely, she always smiles and is kind. She makes sure Mrs Phillips and I bring home extra food if we’re hungry.” “Don’t you live at the house?” “No, it’s too old and parts of it are falling down. I mean, Lady Sharpe is ‘avin’ it fixed in all, but that ‘ouse is only fit to be knocked. It’s sinking into the clay.” “She really is foolish if she is wasting money doing that.” Margaret frowned. She didn’t like how people dismissed Charlotte as a silly woman with little thoughts of substance. She knew that Charlotte was well read and always seemed to know all the odd and complex things Sir Sharpe’s machines did. She didn’t seem as silly as people thought her to be. “I dunno. She seems to know some stuff.” “She went out in the rain and nearly got killed. She fed her baby herself. I don’t think she is smart enough to be left with so much money. It’s a good thing she married a businessman, according to Mrs Matthews, they are worth even more now.” Margaret said nothing. She walked into Thomas’s workshop more than once with his tea to see her employers discussing business decisions together. One time, she heard Sir Thomas state very clearly that Charlotte’s idea had made them a small fortune. Even if she was not the smartest woman, recalling her leaving the house a few days after Master Thomas was born in anger and postnatal hormones, she clearly was not without some mind. “I dunno but what I do know is, if I ever marry, I want to be like ‘er and Sir Sharpe.” “They love each other?” “It’s more than love. D’you know when people talk about soulmates, ‘ow they say they just know each other and are like dance partners, perfectly matched?” Jane nodded. “That’s them. They always seem so ‘appy to just sit with each other and read some book. I see ‘ow Sir Sharpe looks at her, like she is some sort of rare thing, y’know, som-ing not everyone sees and ‘e is like, amazed by it. He loves ‘er so much and the way she smiles at ‘im.” “Wow, I don’t think we’ll ever see that.” Jane was envious at the fairytale-like manner her employers seem to love one another.

“What, not wiv John the gardener?” Margaret jested, referencing the man of forty years of age that seemed to salute the maids as though there were any chance teenage girls would find him attractive. Both girls snorted in laughter at that.

“The only way I would marry an older man is if he was like Mr Hamilton, God rest him.” “What d’you mean?” “Well, before Lady Sharpe was Lady Sharpe, she was Lady Hamilton, did you know that?” Margaret nodded, Mrs Phillips had told her such when she went to Allerdale Hall. “Well, he was fifteen years Lady Sharpe’s senior. Apparently, as nice as they were to one another, and Mr Hamilton was fond of her, she was here to give him children and that alone, hence him choosing a young bride.”

“Oh.” “Yeah, apparently he took her from marrying some young man and paid his fees for him to become a doctor as a way of buying her off him.”

Margaret’s mind immediately went to Dr Thompson and the fact that Lady Sharpe had written him before writing to her husband. “Really?” “Yeah, that’s why I heard anyway.” Jane shrugged.

“According to Mrs Phillips, she is a cousin of that doctor.” “Why would you push for your husband to pay for some cousin to become a doctor?” “I ‘eard his father died when he was young and she wanted to ‘elp ‘im.” “No one helps like that.” “Lady Charlotte does. She went and found him a suitable courtship too, wiv a lovely girl from our town. She genuinely cares for people.” “If she cared that much, she’d pay us more.”

Margaret silenced, she could see no matter what, Jane thought little of Lady Charlotte, a woman she cared for as an employer. She always checked on her wellbeing in Allerdale Hall and her kindness to care for her wellbeing in Foxgrove also came to the fore.

*

Thomas looked around warily. The shadows were becoming more and more frequent, as were the cries. When Mrs Phillips left each night, he became all the more skittish. What scared him even more was that Blake seemed aware of said shadows also. Since Charlotte sent a letter to him explaining she was feeling better and that she wished for the work to end soon so that she could see him again, the art room seemed to be far warmer again and Blake seemed to cease his pining in there from the day before the telegram came, in fact, it ceased the day the telegram was dated from as the date that Charlotte had written it. Instead, Thomas noticed that Blake seemed to have taken on a new role; He was now acting as Thomas’s guardian. When Thomas thought he saw shadows or felt a presence near him in the empty house, Blake was by his side, ready to attack, growling and baring his teeth if required at the direction of the shadows. He would not be parted from Thomas now, he clearly felt it his duty to protect his master, even from the unknown.

Tags @whovianwookie86-captainxev @ilovekingt @sigridlaufeyson @lokiloveheart @lokilover9 @texmexdarling @perpetual-fangirl @wolfsmom1

[douxreviews]

Veronica Mars - ‘Spring Break Forever’ Review

"Neptune didn't need another private investigator. It needed an enema."

Veronica Mars is a grown-up, and she really wants you to know it.

It seems like just yesterday we were all waxing nostalgic over the return of Neptune High alums, past loves and other familiar faces. The Veronica Mars Kickstarter movie felt like one giant hug for the fans; a thank you for making its existence possible, and for sticking by the series for so long that Rob Thomas had to keep it alive. I loved it for what it was, but I understood that if Mars and co. were to continue past that, it would have to be in a different form. We had the novels in the interim - The Thousand Dollar Tan Line and Mr. Kiss and Tell - which were both good in their own way, but Veronica Mars was made for the screen.

This new iteration of the series is in the perfect format for a mystery orientated show; a heavily serialized burst of episodes on a platform that allows it to be the series it deserves to be. Both Thomas and Kristen Bell have told us this isn’t necessarily the series we want, but one that we need. Whether or not that's true remains up in the air by the close of ‘Spring Break Forever’, the first episode of Veronica Mars since May 2007, but it certainly made one hell of a statement. This isn’t the show we loved; it’s grown up along with its titular character, and the world around her has changed because of it. It’s seedier, darker, and even more complex than it used to be, much like Veronica herself. The episode wastes no time in proving this with quite a bit of cursing (but not too much) and some more R rated content than we're used to - a decapitated head, for instance. It's all a little jarring initially, but it fits so seamlessly into the world that Thomas built that it's difficult to contest any of it.

Our first glimpse of Veronica is a flash-forward to what turns out to be the episode’s final scene. Veronica watches law enforcement comb a ruined crime scene at a seaside motel in Neptune; a familiar sight, minus the wreckage. She laments on her decision to stay in Neptune because she thought it needed her, and she needed it. Somehow, she believes that theory to be proven wrong, and these next 8 episodes will tell us exactly why she's been so defeated.

Back in the present-day, Veronica helps a burned 90’er get revenge on her slimy ex by hitting him back twice as hard; getting even is also a very familiar sight where Veronica is concerned. Ronnie doesn’t exactly break through Karsyn’s entitled attitude, but she does dupe her into paying quite a bit more than her usual fee, which is useful considering Mars Investigations appears to be going through some cash-flow problems, even with two PIs now under the same roof.

Keith doesn’t seem to find it as easy to manipulate gullible clients as Veronica. He’s even taking on a supermarket case that’s paying next to nothing just because he feels like he has to. I felt bad for the Mars patriarch, here. He’s still in pain following the hit and run we saw in the movie, a fact made all the more obvious by the cane he needs to walk. He also seems to be suffering from memory loss, which isn’t an ideal situation for a PI whose job is reliant on remembering the most miniscule of details. Perhaps he should consider handing over the reins to his eagle-eyed daughter.

Whoever takes the lead, both members of the Mars family will need to be at the top of their game following an explosion at a seaside motel during spring break. There’s a whole sequence in the middle of the hour that introduces us to everyone who was there at the time. It’s clearly a pivotal scene, one that demands the viewer’s attention, but without an established character, it runs a bit too long.

Regardless, the impact of the explosion itself is even larger that it seemed initially, with all of the victims’ deaths causing a myriad of complications for those they’ve left behind. Aside from a douchebag frat boy, the blow claims the lives of the fiancée of a congressman’s brother; the son of a woman with ties to a major Mexican cartel leader by the name El Despiadado; and the owner of the motel itself, who is survived by his inquisitive teenage daughter. It’s caring for this young girl that seems to be the reason Veronica becomes so invested in the case, a fact that Veronica doesn’t hesitate to point out as a huge mistake. Time will tell how this bond forms, but it’s clear that Maddy isn’t a world away from another determined teen we met a decade ago.

I think it’ll be interesting to see if the series takes advantage of the parallels between the girl Veronica was, and the woman she is now. She’s still an inherently flawed individual, who has trouble letting people in. Given all the heartbreak and betrayal she’s witnessed in her years in the PI biz, she’s not interested in getting married. We should know that already since it’s one of the first things we heard her say in the pilot – “an absolute”. Sadly, Logan still believes in the idea, and Veronica rejecting his proposal may have some lasting consequences on their already fragile long-distance relationship.

Plus

We got a snazzy new title sequence with a cover of the classic theme song by Chrissie Hynde. I like it.

Big Dick Casablancas is still in town, and campaigning against the party scene that keeps the bars, motels and other low-level joints in business. Nicole, a local business owner played by The Good Place's Kirby Howell Baptiste, is very much against his plans. Veronica liked her instantly, and I think I did as well.

Another great character introduced was Alonzo, played by Clifton Collins Jr.. He works for El Despiadado and he wasn't fazed in the slightest by a head being thrown into his boss' backyard. His assignment to the bombing case can only spell trouble.

Wallace is an 09'er now, with a wife and an adorable son. I'm so happy that he seems happy. Our Wallace deserves the best.

Tina Majorino (Mac) is sitting this series out, which is a shame.

I was gagged at the amount of time Jason Dohring spent half-naked. For the record, if he got down on one knee looking like that, I'd say yes to anything he asked!

Cliff was the one to refer Veronica and Keith to the congressman Daniel Maloof. I forgot how much I adore him.

A few elements introduced in the novels carry over into the series: Marcia Langdon, the police chief who ran against Dan Lamb in Mr. Kiss and Tell is one. Veronica's new dog Pony is another. I'm glad these little developments weren't ignored so that they could remain canon.

He Said, She Said

Veronica: "I spent my first 19 years trying to escape my hometown of Neptune. Made it out, then, after a decade away, decided Neptune needed me, and I needed it. I was wrong on both counts."

Karsyn: "Tell me we're recording this." Veronica: ""We're recording this" is my middle name."

Veronica: "There is no George Bailey moment at the end of this story, Dad. When we go belly up, no one's taking up a collection for us." Keith: "There's always that law degree."

Veronica: "This Sea Sprite bombing. I like to think I would have walked away if we didn't need the money. Knowing what I know now I wish I had. But there was a girl and I started to care about the girl. And if you know anything about what I do that's never good."

Pacing issues aside, I enjoyed the hell out of this episode. It made a strong case for making another return to Neptune, one that’s shed a whole different light on how corrupt and dangerous it still is, and how fantastic a character Veronica remains five years later. It’s good to be back.

7 out of 10 engagement rings.

---

Panda

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day One Hundred Eighty-Five: Crystal Ball ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uzumaki Naruto, Haruno Sakura ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

Boredly scrolling through his usual online forums, Sasuke’s eyes flicker to the side of his screen when a notification pops up. He’s got an IM, it seems. Opening Discord, he deflates slightly when he sees it’s from none other than Naruto. Now what does he want…?

Hey the carnival’s in town, you wanna go?

A dark brow perks. Carnival…? Isn’t that for kids? Giving his monitor a deadpan stare, he replies, Isn’t that something for 12 year olds?

Nah man, there’s some sick rides and junk food! C’mon just go with me for one night and get outta your house, dude!

Okay, now he’s full-on scowling. Get out of his house? What, like he’s a recluse or something? He just...likes his privacy! And all his hobbies are at home: his video games, guitar, computer...and their town is just...boring. Going out to do anything costs money, and he doesn’t have a job yet. He gets an allowance, sure, but not that much.

How much are tix?

There’s a pause as Naruto seems to look it up. Uhhh 15 I think? Not that bad!

Sasuke just rolls his eyes. Okay fine, I’ll go. But if it’s boring I’m coming home.

Yeahhh, okay! I promise you won’t get bored, it’s gonna be awesome! :D We’ll go tomorrow, okay?

Snorting, Sasuke sends a one word agreement and closes the window, trying to find his place back on his other window. A carnival...well, he supposes there are worse ways to spend a Summer Friday night.

They arrange to just meet at the gate, and as usual...Naruto is late. Leaning nearby and trying not to look lame, Sasuke keeps hands in his pockets, looking over the crowds idly. It does seem pretty busy...maybe Naruto’s right about it being at least somewhat interesting. He can hear talking and screaming from some of the more intense rides. And of course the smells of sugar, fried food, and crowds of people fill the air. He can’t remember the last time he went to something like this. Probably back in elementary school, if he had to guess.

It’s a bit nostalgic.

“Hey, Sasuke!”

Dragging his eyes from the gate, he spies the blond at last. “About time you got here.”

“Sorry, was texting Sakura - she’s gonna meet us later!”

There’s an involuntary groan. Sakura is Naruto’s girlfriend...but up until they started dating a few months ago, she’d spent their entire lives chasing after Sasuke. And her affections were the last thing he wanted. Girls are just...obnoxious.

“Aw, c’mon - don’t be like that!”

“She’s gonna annoy the hell out of me.”

“Look, she’ll be so busy talkin’ to me, she won’t have any time to bug you! Can’t I just spend a little time with my best friend and my girlfriend?” Naruto scowls, folding his arms. “You gotta put all that behind you, Sasuke.”

“I will as soon as she does,” the Uchiha mutters in reply.

Making their way into the line, they pay the fee and get their wristbands, allowed through the turnstiles and into the carnival grounds.

...it seems a bit...bigger than when he was a kid. No longer is it just some kiddy rides, a petting zoo, and some food stands.

This is massive…!

Noting Sasuke’s gawking look, Naruto snickers. “Told ya it’s awesome!”

“...wow. Sure has changed.”

“I know, right? Whatcha wanna do first? Food, games, rides…?”

“Uh...games, I guess.” He skips the food and rides options for now - he’ll go on something crazy before he eats...otherwise he just might puke. Best to save that for later. For now, they’ll peruse the booths and see what’s worth playing...then they can hit up some rides.

They first have a head to head on a squirt gun course, Sasuke winning handily and earning a prize. He picks a blow-up hammer, amusing himself by whacking Naruto with it and grinning.

“Oi!”

“This is the treatment losers get,” Sasuke taunts, holding the thing away as Naruto makes to pop it.

“Stupid Sasuke and his stupid hammer...ooh!” Immediately distracted, the Uzumaki trots to a strange...tent? “Yooo, check this OUT! It’s a fortune teller booth!”

Sasuke doesn’t bother to censor a scoff. “What, you believe in that crap?”

“I dunno...but sometimes that stuff is like...creepy accurate, man! You wanna go in?”

“Uh...no thanks. You take a turn, and I’ll wait out here.”

“Aww...you’re no fun.” Sticking out his tongue, Naruto then lifts the flap and heads inside.

Shaking his head, Sasuke people-watches for a time. At least Sakura hasn’t shown up yet...he can have a bit more peace. Hopefully whoever’s telling those shoddy fortunes doesn’t mention a breakup in Naruto’s future…

Five minutes pass, and then ten...and then Sasuke starts to get annoyed. How long is this supposed to take? He’s just about ready to stick his head in and demand they go when Naruto emerges. He seems a bit...dazed.

“...you okay?”

“Dude...that lady knows her stuff.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, man...she knew, like...everything,” Naruto hushes. “It was spooky…!”

Sasuke rolls his eyes, then jolts as Naruto takes his shirt front. “Whoa, hey -!”

“You gotta try it, dude!”

“What? I’m not gonna -”

“Just try! Trust me, she’ll freak you out!”

Scoffing, Sasuke jerks out of Naruto’s grip. “All right, fine! Just...don’t go wandering off, okay? Be right back…” Scowling, he hands the blond his hammer and brushes aside the tent flap, heading inside.

It’s dark, lit only by a few candles, and...a glowing crystal ball in the center of a table. Huh...nice atmosphere. No wonder Naruto got so spooked - the kid’s terrified of ghosts, of course he’d believe in this kind of crap.

“Welcome…”

Looking up from the ball, he spies a woman emerging from the shadows at the edge of the ‘room’. She’s...not what he expects. She looks young, no more than his brother’s age, with white hair he’s going to assume is a wig. Big earrings dangle from her ears, grey eyes shining with some kind of mischief that matches her smile. “Please...sit.”

After a pause...he does as asked.

“So...what will you have me reveal? The fate of your career? The path of your heart? Where your luck lies?”

He almost rolls his eyes at her spiel. “What’d my friend pick?”

“I can’t reveal another’s fortune: that’s for them to decide to share.”

Ugh… “...all right, fine. Uh…” He has no idea about...any of those things, really. On a whim, he says, “...romance.” Sure, why not? Anything she tells him he’ll know is a crock that way.

...not that he’d believe anything else.

Rather than sit, she remains standing, planting a hand atop the ball. Mist swirls inside, the color shifting from a teal to a pale pink. The fortune teller’s head tilts as she considers it.

“...you shy from love. Unwanted affections have embittered you to the notion of true feelings. You find the opposite sex shallow and whimsical...where you crave stability and certainty.”

...huh. Okay. Well that’s...interesting. He doesn’t react, not wanting to give her anything to go off of.

“And yet...part of you craves someone to explore this part of yourself with...but not just anyone. You refuse to waste your time in fruitless ventures, but also know nothing is guaranteed. This duality frustrates you.”

His brow furrows just a hair.

“The eccentric clash with your down-to-earth nature. You wish for someone calm, yet sweet...soft, yet eager.”

Bringing up her other hand, the woman’s eyes close, appearing to concentrate. “...the one you seek is small of stature, simple of looks...but undeniably charming. Curves to your edges, soft spoken and yet...with a fiery heart when fed the proper coals. Eyes like the moon, hair like the night just before dawn. Just as one has sought you, she has sought another...your affections creating a whirling pool, a circular path where none are satisfied...until they look in the last place they expect: behind them…”

The tent seems to grow smaller, until the pair of them are pressed to the table. Shadows appear to loom from the edges, the only light the ball between them. A terrible weight settles in Sasuke’s chest. Something’s...something’s not right...

Her tone fades, and then eyes flutter open. “...she is nearer than you think,” she whispers, and then lets her hands retreat. Suddenly, the space expands, the light returns, and Sasuke finds he can breathe again.

What the hell was that…?!

That same cat-like, coy expression pulls at her features. “...that’s all I can see for now. Do with your knowing what you will...but be careful who you tell. The truth is a heavy burden…”

Watching her almost warily, Sasuke rises from his seat and slides out, walking backwards several paces as though expecting her to follow and drag him back inside.

“Sasuke!”

Nearly jumping out of his skin, Sasuke spins around to find Naruto...and Sakura, too. They both perk a brow at him.

“So? What’d she tell ya?” Naruto demands. “You look awfully spooked, Sasuke!”

“Tch...yeah right. She’s just creepy,” he retorts, arms folding...and trying to ward off a clammy feeling in his skin.

“Aww, you’re no fun…”

“You didn’t tell me yours.”

“Cuz she told me not to!”

“She told me that, too!”

“Uh...guys?” Sakura cocks a hip, hand on her waist. “...are you done…?”

“Oh, er...yeah, sorry,” Naruto quickly quips, redirecting his attention to his girlfriend. “What were you saying?”

“I was trying to introduce you to my friend,” the rosette sighs. “I dunno if you remember her: her dad pulled her out to be homeschooled, like...ten years ago. Apparently she’s coming back for our senior year!” A hand then gestures to a girl Sasuke hardly even noticed, her form is so unassuming.

But once he does realize her presence...he stiffens. She...she looks like…?

A bit shorter than Sakura, wearing baggy clothes despite the summer evening heat, her dark hair is up in a bun, a fringe and a few shorter lengths framing her heart-shaped face. Pale eyes are sheepish to match her smile, giving a shy wave. “Hi…”

“This is Hinata - you guys remember her?” Sakura offers.

“Uh...maybe…?” Naruto offers, itching his neck. “It’s been a while…”

Sasuke can’t place her...then again, she’s clearly a wallflower. He probably just never noticed her...especially with louder, more evident girls like Sakura and her friend Ino around. And what he’s far more concerned about now is that the more he looks...the more he sees that lines up with that weird woman’s fortune.

“...she is nearer than you think…”

“...Sasuke? Hellooo? Earth to Sasuke!”

Jolting, he looks up. “...huh?”

Arms folding, Sakura frowns at him. “...are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah...fine.”

“Maybe he needs to eat something! We haven’t gotten any food yet. Whatcha think, girls?”

“Yeah, sure...as long as it’s not too much. I’m watching my diet.”

Hinata just nods, going with the group’s flow as they meander toward the food stalls. Watching her from the corner of his eyes, Sasuke doesn’t know what to think. He doesn’t believe in the occult - he doesn’t! But this is...this is weird…

“Sasuke, right…?”

Stiffening as she addresses him, he nods.

“Sorry...I don’t, um - I don’t really remember you, either,” she offers with a soft laugh. “But Sakura talks about you a lot.”

“Yeah, she...she does that. Seems she should talk about Naruto more than me, though.”

At that, Hinata seems to...wilt. Almost as though disappointed…? “Yeah...she does…”

“Just as one has sought you, she has sought another...your affections creating a whirling pool, a circular path where none are satisfied...until they look in the last place they expect: behind them…”

...she likes Naruto, doesn’t she…? And he likes Sakura, who liked Sasuke, until she...turned around…

Okay, this is freaking him out…!

“Are you...sure you’re all right?” Concern knits her brow. “...you look awfully pale…”

“Just, uh...need some food in me,” he replies evasively. “I’ll be fine.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but nor does she argue, following as Naruto and Sakura get in line for some burgers.

Heart pounding, Sasuke takes a shaking breath. Okay...he’s letting this get to his head. It’s just...nonsense. It doesn’t mean anything. He’s reading into things too much, and making connections that aren’t really there!

...isn’t he?

...he’ll feel better after some food. He’ll be fine.

...so long as Naruto doesn’t put him on any rides after this.

                                                        .oOo.

     Ohmygosh it's late OTL      Thankfully this prompt was easy, I just...didn't get to it until late. And then it ended up longer than usual! Which is good, but I need sleep xD Poor Sasuke...he's gonna be paranoid now! But maybe there IS something to that lady's words...only time will tell!      Anywho, with that, I'ma shove off - thanks for reading!