#but I’ve more than doubled my move goal

[theasylumchild]

Finished my 8 mile run! I wish I could post maps of my runs, but I’m not trying to get doxxed lol

Took until the second mile to really feel good about it, but my speed work yesterday really paid off as I brought my average pace down a whole 20 seconds per mile from last week, all while running an extra mile

[narafeedee]

Top 10 weight gain hacks?

In no particular order:

1. Replace everything you can with the higher calorie version. This may seem obvious but also consider alternative ingredients and increasing quantity of ingredients, for example swapping milk or water with heavy cream, adding double the butter that’s called for, etc. I know that that’s a no-brainer but it really does make a difference if you’re cooking a lot at home.

2. Surround yourself with snacks. When I shop and get a bunch of snacks, I just leave the grocery bag next to where I sit on my couch. Cookies, chips, poptarts, pastries, hand pies, you name it. So any time I’m feeling peckish or I’m just bored and need something to do, I have something within arms reach. I can mindlessly pack away an extra couple thousand calories a day this way and not even notice.

3. Create smaller goals. This one can be a little challenging, of course we all want to hit our ultimate goal as quickly as possible. But it’s so easy to get discouraged when you’re looking at a number that seems so far away. Breaking your goals up into manageable chunks makes the process quicker and more successful than lamenting over not gaining “fast enough” and losing steam. It also gives you reason to celebrate more often than if you’re only looking forward to the next 50-100lbs. For example, say you’re starting on 01/01 at 300 and your ultimate goal is 350. For the month of January your goal is to hit 310, for February it’s 320, and so on and so forth. That way you’re only really “pushing” for the gain for a few days at a time, if you even need to push at all. I hope that makes sense lol

4. That belly tapping thing actually works, lightly tap above your navel and continue tapping as you move from center to left. It may take a couple rounds of this, but in less than a minute you should feel your stomach start feeling empty again. It really really works, it’s also great for when you’re stuffed to the point where another bite will make you sick - just do the tapping thing and the pain and nausea dissipates. I don’t know the science behind this but it’s something I use on a weekly basis and has been a lifesaver.

5. Diet soda. I’ve always been a Diet Coke addict but I’ve found in my gaining journey that the days I drink Diet Coke I am OBSESSED with sweets and sugary treats. Otherwise I’m not too into sweet things, but when I’m chugging aspartame? Oh god it’s game over, I’d eat straight sugar if I had to.

6. Buy the bigger clothes in advance and wear them. This one is hit or miss, cause I love feeling my clothes bursting at the seams, but on the other hand it takes a lot of effort to get super fat and maintain it, so being comfortable as possible is also a must. I do wear the super tight ones still too, but I alternate depending on the day. If you have clothes that are (temporarily) loose on you, not only will you be comfortable but you’ll also have the added benefit of feeling yourself outgrow those too, which to me is more impressive than outgrowing something that was already a little snug.

7. Preset meals; if you’re a fast food junkie like I am and eat every one of your meals out of a greasy brown bag, this is a game changer. Spend a little time making lists of what you like from fast food places and their respective calorie counts. Then come up with realistic 2000+ calorie meals from that. Not stuffings so much as just a casual everyday lunch. So if you know that you need to hit a minimum calories per day, it’s super quick to order exactly what you need and you don’t have to put any effort into it. A lot of apps let you save your favorites to a separate list anyhow.

8. Fast food apps. If you don’t have a rewards app for every fast food place in a 20 mile radius of your home, are you even a feedee? All jokes aside, the amount of free or deeply discounted food I get every day is insane and I am so proud of my points balances lol this is one of my top hacks, I eat so much fast food anyway why wouldn’t I reap the rewards from that?

9. Eat before bed. Most of my eating happens within 2 hours of me falling asleep at night. I would conservatively say half of my daily calorie intake happens in the evening. It works, do it.

10. I’ve been gatekeeping this website for the last 9.5 years, but this is the most accurate calorie calculator I’ve ever used. It tells you your estimated weight over the next few months based on your body metrics and estimated calorie intake (or rather your daily goal lol) and has been consistently accurate for me in my gaining. I use it to plan my gains/other feedees gains and our daily and weekly calorie goals 😉

[elsweetheart]

now that u did casual dominance with ellie… i need it with ur hcs for abby!! i feel like she would not like u saying swear words tbh

oooooooo, okay yeah. i like this 🤭

abby anderson x casual dominance

• like you mentioned i definitely think she would always tell you not to say curse words. it would be as simple as muttering out a “shit!” when you stub your toe and she’d frown slightly in your direction, sometimes brushing a hand on the back of your arm. “watch the language.” she’d tell you before moving on. upon asking her why once in bed at night she’d stare at the ceiling as if pondering the answer herself. “i dunno. doesn’t sound right. pretty mouths shouldn’t say such bad words.” she’d glance at you with a sly smirk as if to say ‘that was a good answer, huh?’ and you’d giggle. however, if she’s fucking you she’ll let you get away with it most of the time. she only has a problem with it in normal scenarios.

• i’ve said it once, and i’ll say it again. you’ll never not have a seat as long as abby’s around — as anytime she sits down she’s patting her thigh for you to sit on. and don’t even try and tell her that you’re ‘too heavy’ because she will simply scoff at you. “i can lift double my body weight, i think i’ll be alright kid.”

• she loves how badly you wanna be helpful for her, so she’ll give you meaningless little tasks and favours to keep you busy and happy. she’ll walk into the room, finding you and gesturing you over. “yeah, you. come here.” she’ll smile lightly as you bounce over to her. “got a job for you.” she’ll smirk and watch the way your eyes light up. “yay, what can i do?” you grin before she’s sending you off with instructions. when you return having done what she asked you too she’ll reward you with a kiss. “what would i do without my helpful girl?”

• she’s so strong and sometimes i think she doesn’t even realise it. abby will really gently tug you around where she needs you like a little rag doll and you love it. you’re standing in the wrong spot? she’ll pull you to where you need to be. sitting / laying on top of something she needs? best believe she’s effortlessly lifting your hips and pulling it from beneath you. her strength makes life a lot easier for you, knowing she can easily pull you up on top of a wall or carry you if you injure yourself. even in a zombie apocalypse, she manages to give you the princess treatment.

• to kind of add on to the whole no swearing thing, i think she’s super sharp on manners. you’ll ask for something and she’ll hold it out of your reach, raising an eyebrow. “please.” she’ll remind you until you shyly repeat it. or if she’s talking and you try to interrupt, she’ll lightly grab your cheeks halting all speech. “hey, baby come on. not your turn to talk yet.”

• the queen of “do that jacket up. if you wake up with a cold you’re gonna be the one complaining.” even though she knows damn well that if you did wake up sick she’d be at your side spoon feeding you and stroking your head.

• will stare down anyone creepy that’s looking at you. more times than not, when they see abby at your side, and more importantly — abby’s arms — they avert their gaze knowing it’s not worth the hassle. “yeah that’s right.” she’ll say under her breath when they look away, knowing she’s asserted her dominance (which turns you on to no end.)

• the casual praise is just… mhm. she knows she can get busy sometimes or caught up in her own goals but she always wants you to know you’re appreciated. you could be completing the most simple task and she’ll still nod at you with an impressed “that’s my girl.” and if you figure something out for the group she’ll be quick to reward you with plenty of “god, my girl is so smart how do i compete?” / “how’s it feel being the worlds most clever girl hm?” whilst pressing kisses to your neck as you giggle.

[lemondropdancer]

ADHD Study Tips

Novel Spaces

One of the biggest things that aids me in studying is a change of scenery. Although, many people suggest having a dedicated workspace for homework and studying. That isn’t the case for me because of my ADHD I need new novel spaces. Therefore I’ve created a few spaces within my home. Solely, because a lot of spaces such as cafe’s have too many distractions such as: customers in and out, constant changing noises, and unfamiliarity.

As the mini adhd coach states the need for novel things is because it provides dopamine and fuels ADHD interest based brains. Oftentimes following the dopamine can be harmful however by creating novel spaces it makes following the dopamine useful and takes advantage of it. It’s a great motivator and it’s a lot of fun to change things up.

New situations are the most motivating for those with ADHD. Each place creates a new situation. And as soon as one becomes boring you can switch to another. I tend to move from my kitchen table to my bedroom set up.

"Notes & Coffee" by VienoR27 is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0

"Kitchen Table Set Up" by VienoR27 is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0

"Sofa Set Up" by VienoR27 is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0

"Bedroom Set Up" by VienoR27 is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0

Body Doubling

Another major thing that helps me focus is body doubling. Body doubling is when you have another person around doing some sort of task to help your brain focus better. For me I like to invite my coworkers who are in college over to body double or ask my boyfriend to body double with me. Additionally, body doubling is why I prefer to work at the kitchen table because my boyfriend can be cooking or cleaning while also acting as a body double. 

Body doubling can also work in public spaces. When I went to college in person rather than online I achieved body doubling in the library. It’s also possible to virtually body double. I tend to do that with friends in discord. Study with me videos on YouTube have also helped with body doubling.

Reminders/Planners

Something else that helps but is often hit or miss with a lot of folks with ADHD is planners, reminders, calendars, etc. Some people forget about these lists of tasks as do I. However, I make it so obnoxious that I can’t and make sure it’s everywhere. I use a physical planner for almost everything from assignments, to-do’s, and due dates. I use my Google Calendar for major due dates as well as meetings and my work schedule. I then also use Momentum, a chrome extension for a to-do list. In addition to that I write out a schedule by the hour as well as a to-do list in order of priority.

Although mine is a bit excessive, I think having a physical as well as a digital is very helpful especially if the digital can send reminders.

Follow the Dopamine not the Priority

Despite the goal of getting things done in order of priority, sometimes it’s easier to start on the task that’ll get the dopamine flowing and get you into that flow state. More often than not doing that task and then the higher priority task is faster than sitting on the higher priority task for a lot longer because your brain simply doesn’t want to focus. Therefore, sometimes following the dopamine is the best option.

Create a Reward System

When studying for large bursts I tend to use my breaks as little reward periods. Usually because I’m studying with a coworker we devise the breaks in terms of assignment or when both of us are starting to zone out and get less productive. For us because our study sessions overlap meals we’ll do our rewards such as going and grabbing food or getting boba and things of that nature. Once it was a Target run to get supplies for a root beer float which was the following break.

Fidget

Find ways to fidget that allow you to remain focused simultaneously. I tend to like to bounce my feet or chew gum. However, depending on what you’re doing you can use putty, stress balls, fidget cubes, etc.

I think this helps with restlessness and remaining calm while doing homework. I’ve also found it helps me avoid getting too overwhelmed especially if I’m behind on tasks or have procrastinated.

Use Caffeine & Sugar but WISELY

I tend to use caffeine when studying. I’m currently not medicated due to other conditions. So I use caffeine to self-medicate in a way. For this to work though you have to find the sweet spot that doesn’t make you sleepy or overly anxious. So it tends to have to be sips that are tapering out the caffeine slowly.

[didalexiabreakupwitholgayet]

idk if this is way too much to ask of you 😅 but can we have more info on the barça b babies? 🫶🏼I’ve only focused on the women’s team since getting into football last summer and don’t know much about them and their team, stats, injuries etc.

so some basics: the first team squad for barça currently has 21 players, but you can use players from the reserve team for first team matches. it's a great way to give more experience to the b players who have potential and a way to have more squad rotation.

the main b girlies for us this year have been vicky lópez, martína fernández, giulia dragoni, and lucía corrales. and the b team has been a very successful feeder into the first team!

per uefa rules: players who are 16 years of age or older by the end of the calendar year when the match is played are eligible to play. each club is responsible for submitting to uefa an A list of players (list A) and a B list of players (list B). no club may have more than 25 players on list A during the season. (there are even more detailed rules that you can read on the uefa link above).

la masia has a reputation for a reason, and there are protocols in place to make sure that the b girlies are not doubling up on practices and their health is monitored. that's why barça tracks biometrics for all our players, so that they are not overworked or overconditioned. and the b girls play mostly for the b team, except for some matches against lower ranked opponents or as subs. so it's not like they are all playing 90+ minutes against first team real madrid on saturday and then have to do another 90+ minutes against a b team opponent on sunday. now of course, there is an epidemic of injuries in women's football with no easy answers, and sadly that's affecting b team girls too.

so i won't go through all the barça b players, but here are some who have shown great potential:

vicky lópez - she's 17 years old and is one of the regular subs for the barça first team. and she already has two caps with the spanish national team. she's one of alexia's daughters and has a lot of flair as an attacking midfielder. also, her mom passed away when she was 11 (another way she relates to alexia in losing a parent when young), and the goal celebration above is to honour her mum.

giulia dragoni - another 17 year old wizard in the midfielder and has earned 8 caps for italy and went to the world cup last summer! it looks like giulia will be loaned to roma's first team next season, which will be a great move for her and i think she has the potential to be a regular starter there before coming back to barça. she was the youngest non-spanish player to make her debut for the first team.

lucía corrales - she's an 18 year old winger and has been a force for barça and the spain youth teams and has scored some important goals in important matches for them. mundo deportivo has described her as the heir to mariona and you can see some shades of her in the way lucía plays.

martina fernández - she's a 19 year old defender and captain of the b girlies and the spain u23 squad. she was part of the first class of female students to be in residence at la masia. she's training to be one of the cb successors to mapi and paredes. also, she's a brainiac and studies biomedical sciences and works in a lab in her free time!

ariana arias - ari is a 20 year old striker who came over from real madrid, if you can believe it! she has spoken out about suffering from harassment and psychological abuse while at real madrid! and last year was the top scorer of the primera federación (b league). she's had two goals for the first team so far.

ona baradad - ona is a 20 year old forward who already has multiple caps for the first team, having debuted back in 2021. she ruptured her acl last year but has recently returned to play. she has a lot of explosive and dynamic quality.

txell font - she's the sister of gemma font and is an even better gk in my opinion! she's also recently injured but has so much potential. barça really churn out some of the best gks around!

honourable mentions: martine fenger (norwegian national who some say have the potential to be better than ada!); onyeka gamero (one of the nominees for young player of the year in usa). emilia szymczak (17 year old who nows plays for poland national team).

anyway, this is just a start! can't wait to see more from them in the future!

[hiatuswhore]

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑀𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽𝓎 𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝐼𝒱 — 𝐵𝓇𝒾𝒹𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓉𝑜𝓃

♕ A/N: I am so sorry for just disappearing on this fic. I love this fic but I’ve been struggling with writers block BADLY. My think tank is broken or something. So since I disappeared for so long the word count is double the usual. Thanks for your patience. Feedback please!

♕ SUMMARY: Oh, the most scandalous season of the year has come to pass. After quite the successful year for the Bridgerton’s the eldest son plans to throw his hat in the ring. Concurrently the Sharma sisters do just the same. One a spinster, the other hopeful romantic, and the middle daughter? What can be said about such a force that is not said when she enters the room. Good luck to all who pursue her.

♕ WORD COUNT: 17.6K

♕ WARNINGS: None

previous — Masterlist — next

THE NIGHT SKY SITS HIGH UP WITH A COOL BREEZE THROUGH THE WINDOW. Sitting alone in front of a vanity worth more than most of your things combined, you sit in the mirror, brushing your hair, toying with the idea of a marriage to William. It’s ideal—more than ideal, it comes with everything you want in life. An out from society, the means to do as you please, but still, it burdens you with a new level of expectations and responsibilities. No matter how much the choice glitters, it’s not gold. You cannot bring yourself to give him an answer.

Opening your room door slowly, you poke your head out quietly, scanning the corridor. At the sight of no one and the low hum of everyone to their own devices, you move cautiously through the hall. The stairs proved to be their own obstacle, with every creak threatening to reveal your scheming. Your end goal? The back porch, certain a moment beneath the stars.

“—you cannot be serious!” Stopping short, the back door sits in view a mere few steps away, but William’s voice halts your movement. The closed-door staring back at you, the persistent padding of the floor matching the faint shadow beneath hastily moving back and forth.

“Spare me, William! You speak on speculation alone!” Anthony seethes, his attempts to whisper clashing with his own frustration. A scandal? You want to listen, to cling to any information the private conversation offers, but the foyer lacks any semblance of coverage. It would only take one person opening the door to reveal your highly inappropriate snooping. As a guest of the Bridgertons, no good would come from this kind of trouble. You cast the moment to the back of your mind, acknowledging that you have more complicated matters than two Englishmen in a row.

Rising early the following day. Typically the beaming sun through the curtains and the loud chirping of birds result in dramatic whines and huffs. Not today. Before your mother or even Lady Danbury can rise to object, you ask Lady Violet to use the driver to see some of the countryside. Her nescience to your troublesome nature granting you jovial approval.

In the carriage, you rest your arms on the open window, the cool air blowing across your skin. The sun warms your face as you melt into the calm that comes with endless farmland.

“Excuse me, sir. Can you pull over, please?” You call out. The vibrant green shines with a sea of endless flowers, assuring John, the driver, that you will soon return while entering the open field. Walking through the grass, you march without a destination. Occasionally swatting away a fly or bug, your smile remains.

“Appa, look at this,” You whisper, eyes shining at the flowers around you. John’s no longer in sight. You are not positive about how far you have journeyed when you turn around. Without a worry, you continue back straight from the direction you came. After a long while, the lack of the familiar carriage comes with a wave of ambivalence. The silence continues on as a frown settles on your face, the terrain on a continuous loop.

Scolding your inability to follow any directions ever given to you. You drag your feet huffing at the uncomfortable rub of your boots. The concept of time now an illusion. Your mind says it’s been hours as your feet cry days. You thank the heavens above at the sound of a horse until you see who rides toward you with a pointed look.

“Must you always be so erratic? William and I have been searching for you for hours! Do tell, how does one get lost with no turns?” Anthony exclaims, stopping expertly at your side. You wipe the discomfort from your face as you cross your arms in front of your chest.

“First, I’ll have you know that I am not lost. Secondly, no one asked you to come searching for me!” Anthony points out the ways off you are from where the carriage let you out. Falling silent, you roll your eyes before holding out your hand to join Anthony on the horse.

“You can’t be seen riding on the back of my horse. It would be improper,” He says, keeping your hand out; you narrow your eyes at his words, “So, to be clear, you journeyed out here with no alternative of getting me to the estate? Have you come only to chastise me, Mother?”

“If you put it like that, then, of course, it sounds foolish,” Anthony grumbles, your right eye twitching as you fight the urge to push him off the horse, “Because it is foolish! Now spare me your silly formalities and help me up!”

His nose scrunches as a sigh leaves him. Taking your hand and pulling you up, he utilizes the opportunity to lecture you on every worst-case scenario. You secure your arms around his lower back and lean your head on his shoulder. He drones about the dangers of the particular area and how fortunate nothing occurred. While he continues listing every action of yours he deems a nuisance, you soak in the release of the tensions on your legs and feet. Before you know it, his words and the smooth trot of the horse lull you away.

“—are you even listening? Of course, you are not. Why would (Y/n) Sharma listen to anyone else other than herself?” Anthony says, glancing on his shoulder to find your eyes closed.

“Don’t be such a boorish oaf. It’s been a phenomenal day,” Yawning, you find yourself nuzzling further into the back of his shoulder as if nothing else matters. Anthony lets out a dry chuckle, keeping his focus ahead as his mind pushes William’s confession to the back of his thoughts.

Before you know it, Aubrey Hall stands in view like your saving grace. Daphne steps through the doors as Anthony helps you down from the horse. Her eyebrows furrow as she carefully eyes the two of you, “No matter how painfully dull I find you, I must say thank you for coming to get me. Repeat that to anyone and I’ll deny it to my dying breath.”

“I expect nothing less from you, Miss Sharma,” Anthony nods his head at your thank you as Daphne lingers by the steps. Her eyebrows furrow at the two of you as her mind generates connections she previously presumed to be false.

“(Y/n) Sharma! Have you gone mad? I was worried sick, my child,” Your mother rushes down the stairs pulling you into a tight hug. While relief fills her, it subsides as she pulls back from the hug with a pointed stare. “What have you done?”

“If I may, Lady Mary? It appears our driver just made haste. Miss Sharma was only a little ways off of the path. Indeed partaking in a breathtaking but safe area of the countryside,” You turn to Anthony as he speaks with a charming smile. His easygoing nature saves you from a long lecture you would have inevitably received from your mother.

“Well, then, my apologies, dearest. Lord Bridgerton, please accept my utmost gratitude for ensuring my daughters' safe return,” Lady Mary says as she takes your arms. She excuses the two of you with a polite smile before dragging you toward the house. You look back at Anthony with narrowed eyes, but he only offers a sardonic smile with a mocking wave. You are certain his help does not come without cost.

“Though Lord Bridgerton vouches for the safety of your insolence, you know better (Y/n)!” Your mother sighs with her back on the door.

“Mama, I did not wish to upset anyone. I just wanted to explore the countryside. You should have seen it. It was beautiful!” You sit on the edge of the bed as your mind fills with the flowers splintering in your memory. The reds, blues, and purples blending in your mind, the ache of your feet long gone.

“My darling, can we please just focus on ensuring tonight’s dinner goes without shenanigans?” Mary sighs, holding her composure she stares at you with patient eyes. “I need your word that while we are here as guests, you will do everything possible to ensure this visit goes smoothly. For Edwina’s sake.”

“Mama, it was only—“ You huff, but as she shakes her head, asking only for your word. “Of course, Mama. I want to make clear I would never do anything to jeopardize our family or Edwina’s happiness. I need to know you know that?”

Mary’s shoulders fall as she takes in your glassy-eyed gaze. She joins you on the edge of the bed, taking both your cheeks in her hand. “(Y/n) I know you believe that, but you fail to remember your actions have consequences. When it is just us, I am more than okay with your adventurousness. But here, my wildflower child is a different world than you know. One wrong move, and it can ruin us all.”

The heaviness of her words does not come without consequence. Even long after your mother leaves you, her words do not. The arrival of dinner does not allow you to dwell on the implications of your mothers' words. You sit between Colin and Benedict, with Kate and Eloise across from you.

“This room is exceptionally well-lit. Have you noticed, Col? How bout you, Lady (Y/n)? The twinkles of the candles, it’s as if—we sit among the stars,” Benedict speaks in awe that exceeds the contents of his words—amusement dances across your face as Colin's eyes continuously bounce to his mother and back to Benedict.

“What is wrong with you?” Eloise questions, mirroring your expression as she eyes her elder brother.

“I was just telling Benedict how brilliant the stars were in Greece,” Colin says as if his mind formulates his sentence as it leaves him.

“No, you weren—“ You raise an eyebrow as Colin lightly kicks your shin. The rest of the table watches the pause between the two of you. Colin offers you a pleading smile as you shake your head, shielding your lips with your glass. “You should know that I weaponize my silence. The cost is simple. Why is Benedict acting odd?”

“I gave him a powder that I acquired from my travels. He took far too much of it,” Colin says, earning a loud laugh that draws the attention of the rest of the table. You quickly recover by bringing your glass to your lips again; meeting William’s gaze, he raises an eyebrow. Shrugging your shoulders, you tilt your head toward Benedict until William’s eyes move to the left of you. The longer you stare at the Bridgerton, the more apparent his altered state appears.

“Are you enjoying your time here, Miss Edwina?” Daphne asks, diverting the attention to the opposite end of the table. Edwina sits with Colin to her right and Anthony to her left. Daphne sits across from her with Anthony to her left and William to her right.

“I am, very much. The buzz of the city is thrilling indeed, but I quite enjoy the peace of the country,” Edwina smiles brightly as most of the table watches her. Your attention more on Benedict, who continues quietly in your ear about the room's beauty. Lady Danbury watches you quietly with Kate at her left and Lady Violet at her right. You silently thank whoever made the seating arrangements as your mother sits beside Benedict, unable to eye you the entire night.

“As do I. Though I dare say. It is not quite so peaceful with my entire family in residence,” Anthony points out. Rolling your eyes, you find William chuckling softly, his eyes on you.

“Certainly, I cannot compare my family to your seven brothers and sisters, but you have all become familiar with my wonderfully chaotic sister (Y/n). Kate and I were known to be a handful growing up, but Mama always had her hands full with (Y/n),” Edwina says, leaning forward to catch her gaze; you offer a playful wink. Kate does not miss the opportunity to share when you decided you no longer desired the hair on your head.

“Not this again,” You whine, shaking your head as Kate details how you excitedly carried your hair in your hand.

“I had never seen Mama become so flustered so rapidly. She was endlessly chasing (Y/n) throughout our home,” Edwina details as a chorus of laughter fills the table. Daphne's giggles cease as William huffs to the right of her. She follows his gaze to her left. A smile ghosts on Anthony’s lips as he watches how you laugh sheepishly. Anthony’s eyes focus on you, a nostalgic glint in his eyes,

“(Y/n) was such a fast child I could rarely catch her when she was determined to not be caught,” Your mother smiles, her eyes glazing over as if she leaves the dinner table to relive that memory. The story lacks the part where your father caught you. Despite your upset mother, he only laughed. Not a simple laugh, one without end—he laughed so hard the rest of you could not help but follow suit.

“In seriousness, both Kate and (Y/n) bear heavy responsibilities for our family. (Y/n) has never allowed any moment, no matter how hard in our lives to go without some silver lining. If anyone can help you through a tough time, it’s her. We’d have never survived the tough days without her,” Edwina continues as you look to find her gaze, only to find Anthony’s. It lasts seconds as you roll your eyes at him before looking at your sister. A chuckle leaves his lips as he fails to hear Edwina talk about Kate. Daphne watches warily as William silently watches his oblivious best friend.

“That sounds remarkably similar to you, Anthony,” Daphne says, watching as her brother snaps back into the conversation, “Much familial responsibility to bear, indeed.”

Kate catches Daphne's knowing gaze, and the two watch each other silently for several seconds. You sit watching Colin fail to keep Benedict in check, knocking over his glass and covering his face. When he removes his hand, it reveals a child-like grin, sheer contentment.

“Benedict dear, you alarm our guests,” Lady Violet says with the grace of a seasoned noble. A perfect blend of warmth and patronization. You know that tone all too well.

“Not at all,” Kate says as you offer a giant smile to Lady Violet. The sound of Lady Danbury’s fork against her glass commands the room's attention.

“It is time for a toast,” Lady Danbury says. A smooth distraction, chuckling, you glance at Benedict.

“A good idea. To cheer our guests,” Lady Violet says as your mother beams happily at the idea. It’s clear what they hope to achieve at this dinner, and you find it rather nauseating how they puppeteer it all.

“Or to tend to other pressing matters,” Lady Danbury's words are everything short of subtle. The attention turns to Anthony and Edwina quickly. Kate makes eye contact with Daphne, then with you. While you look unfazed by the inevitable purpose of this invitation, it’s clear Kate seeks a haste exit.

“My—I believe my sisters and I have grown weary,” Kate says. A sharp kick to your shin blocks your attempts to deny her words as you hiss quietly.

“Whatever you gave Benedict, you might need to give it to Kate,” You whisper to Colin, who turns to your sister. She holds her wine close to her lips as her fingers drum against the glass. Her posture’s stiff as she looks at Anthony as if her eyes can strike him dead.

“A toast. Yes,” Anthony rises from the head of the table as you all raise your glasses. “My sincere gratitude to the Sharmas for joining us. It has been splendid having you here to witness what is now my second annual loss at Pall-Mall. Not to be repeated, I assure you. And my special gratitude to Miss Edwina. It has certainly been a privilege to truly make your acquaintance these past few days. In fact, I believe there is a question I would like to ask you.”

You watch as most of the table sits at the very edge of their seats as Anthony pauses. Your eyes cut to Daphne, your eyebrows furrowing at the sight. Daphne steals glances at William, whose lips press tight as he stares at Anthony with—confusion? Kate shares Daphne’s weary expression, and you furrow your eyebrows as something does not quite click. Anthony now stands with his hands clasped behind his back, scanning the room. His eyes find your own, furthering your confusion as he pauses for a second. Anthony moves his gaze to William, and the two appear to speak to one another without saying a single word.

“I should like to uh—I should like to ask you please refrain from telling anyone back in London about yesterday's loss. I fear the harm to my reputation would simply be too great,” Awkward chuckles chorus through the room, but you glare daggers at the Viscount. You may not know classic literature well or Latin, but you know your sisters. The fall of Edwina’s face appears subtle, but the sting of Anthony’s words are unmistakable. Daphne and Kate let out sighs of relief as William stares at you. You cannot decipher what he contemplates, but you are sure it has something to do with Kate, Daphne, and Anthony. Dinner continues, and the end cannot come fast enough.

Finally, just your sisters and yourself. Kate rubs Edwina’s head as you sit without words. Deep frown lines crease Edwina’s forehead, her eyes misty, and you are confident that her self-scrutiny eats away at her insides.

“You must know you did nothing wrong,” Kate dares to say, but Edwina’s words are sharp as she speaks almost instantly, “I must have done something. The rest of the ton are now set to join us in the country. Surely, if the Viscount were to propose, he’d have done it by now. Yes?”

“Edwina, you are putting far too much pressure on yourself. You are wonderful, and they know it,” You take her hand in both your own, bringing it up to your lips.

“That is easy for you to say. People always love you, no matter where you go. You were proposed to by a man in line for the throne of England, Lady Violet dotes on you, and you charmed the Queen. You don’t even try and have done far better than I am. What if I missed my chance? Perhaps I should’ve found out more about the Bridgertons. I should’ve known more about their interests. I should’ve been better,” Edwina does not allow either of you to get a word in as a tear escapes her eyes. You place a chaste kiss on the back of her hand as your chest aches at her words.

“Edwina, do not fool yourself. How am I doing better, and yet you are the diamond of the season? You are amazing and do not need to study a man's family to prove your worthiness. If a proposal is what you want, I will beat it out of the Viscount myself if you so wish it,” Earning a chuckle from Edwina and Kate, the tension eases as a small smile plays on Edwina’s lips. It does not reach her eyes, but you do not expect to expel her fears so quickly.

A soft cry leaves her lips in one shaky breath, “I have bungled this entire affair, and now I feel like a fool.”

“Never say such a thing, Bon. I knew he would only end up hurting you. Come here,” Kate says, wrapping Edwina in her arms. You join the other side closing your youngest sister in. Your heads touch as you focus on the sound of Edwina's quiet sobs. “I hate seeing you like this.”

“I thought he liked me,” Edwina cries, her hand squeezing you both a little tighter. You meet Kate's gaze, nudging your head, telling her it was now her turn to give a pep talk.

“(Y/n) is right, Bon. You are the diamond of the season. There is nary a gentleman back in London who does not wish for your hand. You have choices, Bon. I assure you that all will be well despite this disappointment with the Viscount. Plus, do you truly wish to marry someone our sister might murder?” A loud laugh leaves Edwina’s lips as you nod in agreement with Kate. Despite the heaviness of the conversation, a warmth lingers in the air.

The following day you wake to Kate rushing into your room, sitting up; you grumble as she mutters apologies. She moves to your things, removing the cream you have used on many cuts over the years.

“Are you alright?” You ask as she applies it near her collarbone. She assures you everything’s fine. “What happened to your chest?”

“I got a bee sting while near the gardens—“ You frown as she trails off, her eyebrows furrowing as your presence seems no longer relevant. “While I am not fond of the Viscount, you could help him.”

“Why am I helping him?” You ask. Initially, you do not believe her tale of being stung in the gardens and the Viscounts' familiar reaction.

“I do not know his history, Bon. What I do know is there is something with him and bees. I think he shares your ailment. It appeared like he could not breathe. He looked so afraid—his hands were shaking. Bon, I fear I will never understand your ailment, but for the first time, there is someone who can. Please talk to him, not for him—for you.” Kate crouches at your bedside, brushing your hair with her fingers much like she would after one of your episodes. You do not say a word during the entirety of her explanation. Rarely do any of you talk about your ailment. Kate caught it during the announcement of the season’s diamond, but beyond that, it had been relatively dormant.

“I will not seek him out, but if we happen to cross each other paths, I will inquire if he is indeed alright,” You say. Kate smiles, kissing your forehead before leaving your room. It only takes you mere minutes to get ready, not bothered by doing your hair in some precious way. Your mother, Lady Violet, Lady Danbury, and Daphne appear busy planning the lunch. The Bridgerton siblings scatter amongst the large estate to their own devices, and your sister appears nowhere in sight.

While you said you would not seek him out, you find yourself in the gardens. The flowers bloom beautifully with a significant number of hyacinths in view. You marvel at the simplicity.

“Miss Sharma,” Anthony joins your side, but his gaze stays on the flowers. You watch him carefully as he eyes them not in awe but with a cloudy disposition.

“Lord Bridgerton,” You say, turning to the flowers. Anthony's expression does not change, leaving you wondering if he even heard you. Uncertainty plagues you as you are sure what you want to say but not when to say it. “I will not dawdle any longer. I fear I am familiar with where you are now in this ailment. After the horrifying feeling as if all the air will leave your body at once comes that strange calm, where you feel as though you cannot feel anything.”

Anthony’s head whips in your direction, but you do not move your eyes from the flowers. The look on his face tells you that you are on the right track, but it does not confirm your assumptions, “Kate told me what occurred earlier. Correct me if I am wrong, but typically it comes randomly, right? Often in the most inopportune times but typically from certain settings.”

“I—you are mistaken, Miss Sharma. I, the Viscount, suffer no ailment, just temporary lapses,” He does not offer you much as he turns his attention back to the flowers, and you both share similar frowns.

“There is no shame in it, Lord Bridgerton. My father used to say we all have something, if not an ailment—an insecurity. A lot of my insecurities trigger my ailment, if I am quite honest. I have a lot to live up to with two great sisters. I am a lousy shot and not as cognizant as Kate. I lack resilience. I just bury my troubles with humor. Then there’s Edwina, whom you would be a fool to not marry. She checks every box of those silly questions of yours—excelling in modern and classical literature. Which are without a doubt boring,” Anthony chuckles as he listens intently. You let out a huff as you look up and meet his gaze. He appears in awe almost.

“Miss Sharma, I think you are undoubtedly your own harshest critic. You need not be like Kate because you find and elevate the room's most exciting part. Who cares if you are a lousy shot? My younger brothers excelled in shooting before I. You have voiced your distaste for classic literature, and it does edify the mind, but one has to enjoy it to sharpen their wit,” He clasps his hands in front of him, offering a sheepish smile as you look at him. A small smile threatens to break the frown on your lips. While you look off at nothing in particular, you miss how he looks at you. At ease, he appears unusually calm, not stressing the ball or his search for a wife.

“I—I must admit that I was wrong about you, Lord Bridgerton,” You say. A chuckle left his lips while correcting you.

“Anthony,” He says. You nod your head as a smirk tugs at your lips before mocking him.

“You suddenly think we are friends?” He looks incredulously at your sardonic tone, “Oh, do not look at me as if you are unfamiliar with who I am? You can call me by my name if you like. Last I checked, I lack a title and am not a man.”

He scrunched his nose before chuckling as your personality shined through. “With much regret (Y/n), I do agree with you to a point. You lack a title, but I am a gentleman.”

“Spare me your self-righteousness, Lord Bridgerton. I guess I should congratulate you. You have finally acquired the favor of one Sharma sister, now only one more to go, and you can wed Edwina,” Anthony’s face falls at your words. Looking past the garden, William walks toward you both. He ignores your playful smile as his eyes focus on Anthony to your right.

“Miss Sharma, we require a moment alone,” William says, glaring daggers in Anthony’s direction. He does not spare you a single glance as he waits for your departure.

“Miss Sharma?” You scoff at the formality, waiting for him to look at you. After a few seconds, William’s pointed gaze turns toward you.

“Your presence is likely needed elsewhere, and if I am not mistaken, it is highly inappropriate to be with Viscount Bridgerton unchaperoned,” He sounds like your mother, and you do nothing to cover your scowl.

“I know not of your issue, and I do not like whoever this is before me. When you find the time to pull your head out of your arse, then and only then will I happily enjoy your presence. Good day Lord Beauregard,” Your mocking curtsy’s evident before you stomp from the gardens into Aubrey Hall. The rest of the day continues in a blur of your mother preparing you and Edwina for lunch. In the middle of your mother doing your hair, a tap on the door becomes the room's focal point. Mary calls out enter, to which a maid reveals a letter for you from the Duke.

Lady (Y/n),

My apologies for my demeanor earlier. I am cross with my very best friend, and I fear I took it out on you. I will not be in attendance for lunch, for I fear tensions run far too high between Anthony and I. I will be in attendance at the ball. Until then.

Lord Beauregard

“Why is the Duke cross with the Viscount? They are dear friends,” Your mother says, reading over your shoulder, shrugging lazily at the neat cursive you toss it aside.

“Lord Beauregard is upset with Lord Bridgerton? Maybe that is why he did not propose?” Edwina says. You say nothing as Kate observes you as Edwina and your mother continue theorizing. Newton nuzzles at your feet as you hold your tongue. Your mother excuses herself, leaving the three of you alone. Kate still urges Edwina to recognize that she has no shortage of options in terms of suitors. This reality matters little, Edwina speaks passionately, and you cannot discredit her logic. Anthony can indeed provide her with the life she wants—deserves. Kate sighs, looking toward you. Shrugging your shoulders, you scratch the top of Newton’s head. Edwina keeps her gaze low as she speaks cautiously, “Sisters, I’ve been thinking.”

“Clearly,” You mutter under your breath, earning a pointed stare from Kate. Edwina’s shoulders fall as she glances between the two of you. “Apologies, bon, continue.”

Edwina straightens her posture lifting her chin. Raising your eyebrow, you cannot help the faint quirk of your lips. The anticipation of Edwina’s following words nearly comical, far too dramatic for your liking, “I am now quite certain I know why he has not yet made his declaration.”

Kate stiffens, glancing at you briefly before looking back at Edwina. The action terse, earning a furrow in your eyebrows at her. Edwina looks between the two of you with this confidence that you are certain has the strength of wet tissue paper. Her features too frail, and her voice far too delicate, “It's because of the two of you. (Y/n) you push too harshly at him and Kate; you hate one another.”

Edwina crosses the room crossing her arms, contemplating the situation. You eye Kate, her posture loosens, and a long breath leaves her. She looks back at you, and the pause lasts far longer than it should. Kate shakes her gently while turning to Edwina, “Uh, hate is probably too strong a word.���

“And quite frankly, I have been going rather easy on the Viscount,” You say, leaning back in your seat, taking note to later ask Kate what’s going on. Edwina's eyes widen, a glint flashing across her irises. “Oh no, whatever it is you’re thinking, I already hate it.”

“It is clear from your exchanges with the Viscount that he shares the feelings you each have for him. (Y/n) the two of you often banter, but the line between friendship and disdain is far too blurry. Kate, the two of you simply bicker, the line is very clear, and you are on the wrong side of it. All of this time, I thought I needed help getting him to fall in love with me. But I now realize I neeapparentting him to fall in love with both of you,” Edwina speaks softly, joining you on the couch. You can feel Kate’s gaze searing into your skin as she frowns at Edwina.

“Well, I don’t know about love, but the Viscount and I have recently found some common ground. I actually gave him my blessing earlier today,” You speak casually, watching Edwina squeal excitedly. She quickly pecks your cheek before turning to Kate with a soft smile. Kate’s sharp stare does not leave you even as Edwina urges Kate to try harder.

“I have not given up, I will not give up,” Edwina says with a dreamy look in her eyes. She rests her head on your shoulder, failing to see the tense stare between the two of you. Kate wastes no time in asking Edwina to go retrieve your mother.

At the closing of the door, the room still, you both stare each other waiting for the other to speak. Newton whines softly from the floor, the tension all-consuming in the sunlit room. You scoff, crossing your arms, “If you have something to say, just say it. The shared looks with Daphne and William and looks of scrutiny are becoming rather irritating.”

Kate huffs as her shoulders fall. She glances around the room before her eyes come back to you. The second she speaks, you do nothing to hide the grimace that takes your features, her tones gentle. Too gentle, you know it all too well, “Have you lost your mind? Why would you give Anthony your blessing? This will only further complicate things.”

“Do not patronize me, Kate. What are you even on about? We do not have to like him, Kate, but we cannot deny that he can give Edwina the life she wants. A large family, simple affections, dutiful husband,” You stand up with an incredulous glint in your eyes.

“A life where her husband and sister have feelings for each other?” Kate’s words rip through you. The weight of her allegation thinning the air around you. You blink several times as though if you do it enough, it will reset time, virtually ending this conversation.

“I would never hurt Edwina like that. That is a vile accusation,” You seethe, stepping closer to Kate, the breeze from the window cooling the fury that burns your skin. Kate places her hands cautiously on your shoulders. She knows how to anger you just as easily as soothe you.

“I know, bon, but we cannot ignore the truth of the matter,” Kate says, biting the inside of your cheek; you shake her hand off your shoulder. At the window, you peer out at nothing, in particular, swallowing thickly.

“He is courting Edwina, that is all,” You do not look at her as you speak, busying yourself with the many who prepare the backyard of Aubrey Hall with tables and umbrellas.

“I confronted him during Pall Mall about this subject matter. He, too, dismissed me. Neither of you even deny your feelings, only emphasize the inappropriate nature to which your relationship treks dangerously close,” Kate says, being greeted with your silence as you focus as though the workers perform for you. A long sigh fills the silence, “I do not wish to upset you, sister. We swim in precarious waters. If not careful, we’ll drown.”

You turn to Kate, your eyes glassy. Neither of you move, and Edwina’s jubilant voice sounds in the corridor. Before the door opens, you speak barely above a whisper, “We’re friends, that is all.”

Edwina rushes into the room ahead of your mother. She runs to the clothing, insistent on picking her best dress. Your mother glances between you and Kate. It seems she catches all that Edwina misses, and still, no one speaks a word of it.

Though not customary, you wear a sleeveless apricot dress that your mother forces you to pair with a sheer shawl. You walk without a destination with Kate through the backyard, the sea of faces, unfamiliar--the people, uninteresting.

“Sisters!” You can recognize Edwina’s light tone anywhere, her voice lacking the faint bass of your tone. Edwina sits with Anthony. Kate glances your way as Anthony meets your gaze. The pause brief. You glance at Kate before both of you look back to Edwina, her smile beaming. If she notices the hesitancy, she does not show it. “Come sit with us!”

Anthony rises as you both approach. As you approach the seat across from Anthony, Kate stands by the chair across from Edwina. Your eyebrows pinch as you look at Anthony, now questioning every little detail about his demeanor—every little detail about your own.

“Miss Sharma,” Anthony stands with his hands behind his back, dutifully nodding at both of you. You fight every urge to call him Serg.

“Lord Bridgerton,” Kate says. You nod your head fighting your better nature. The boundary between yourself and your potential brother-in-law now hazy. You like his disdain, maybe even prefer it. Contempt can be understood, but anything else resembles putting together a puzzle with missing pieces. You always did like to hide away parts of the puzzles to avoid finishing them.

The three of you sit down, sharing awkward glances as Edwina smiles, sticking out amongst the polite smiles. Anthony clears his throat, momentarily filling the silence. You fidget with a string hanging from your dress as Edwina looks at Kate.

“Did you tell the Viscount about your bee sting?” Your eyes cut to Kate, then Anthony as the question seemingly stills the table further. Kate chuckles softly. She looks at Anthony, speaking plainly. He offers a mock ah that earns an eye roll as you fiddle with your dress string. Edwina’s gaze turns to you, “Sister, you are quiet. Are you alright?”

“Tired perhaps,” Shrugging, Edwina huffs softly but maintains her chipper smile. The table conversation relies focally on Edwina bouncing between the three of you. Edwina suggests that Anthony give you and Kate a tour before you can decline; both Anthony and Kate speak over each other.

“I’ll be shooting with the other gentlemen. The party is to leave quite soon, I’m afraid,” Anthony offers a charming smile toward Edwina. Your younger sister perks up, not missing the opportunity to announce your adept skills in tracking and Kate’s excellent shot. Kate scoffs as Anthony laughs, seemingly dismissing the revelation.

“Do you not think it true?” Kate says. Benedict approaches, reminding Anthony it’s almost time to go. You cannot fight the grin off your lips at the sight of Kate. She has that look on her face. The one where she gets crazy competitive and enables your shenanigans.

Anthony chuckles, glancing at you just as you roll your eyes and laugh, “Perhaps your sister excels in fields with straight aim and level ground, but surely they would have some trouble managing—“

“Well, that certainly wasn’t condescending at all,” You murmur very clearly, raising an eyebrow as you look at him. Kate follows with her own question as Anthony steps further into it. Benedict smiles largely as his oldest brother crashes and burns rather quickly.

“I only mean to say—“ Anthony's slow drawl fuels your amusement. He meets your gaze, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly.

“Because we are women?” Kate says.

“No. I did not say that.” Anthony's gaze swiftly turns to Kate. At this point, he fumbles to clarify his point, merely shoving his foot farther into his mouth.

“But you implied it,” You point out, glancing at Benedict, whose grin falls as Anthony looks at him. Anthony then chuckles, speaking with a newfound diction, “Ladies, do not hunt.”

Kate quickly distinguishes between what ladies are and are not allowed to do. You bite your bottom lip, mirroring Benedict’s grin as Edwina redirects the conversation. Before you know it, you chuckle while changing in your room as Kate grumbles about Anthony, her irritation of the smug Bridgerton allowing you reprieve from her hefty assumptions. You push her accusation and William's proposal to the back of your mind. The fresh country air pulls a large smile to your lips. The glances from the other men barely reach you as Kate glares at them. Your and Kate's chaperone struggling like a fool on her horse behind the two of you. You sit on the back of Kate’s horse, your eyes taking in all the greenery, specifically the dirt that sits just faintly visible beneath it. The untrained eye would miss the faint but present signs of life in the area. One of the gentlemen up ahead calls the hunting party to the right.

“To the right?” You mutter, your eyebrows pinching as you glance over Kate’s shoulder. Several men steer their horses right as your eyes lock on Anthony’s back, the mocking tone leaving you with ease, “Viscount Bridgerton, do we intend to merely gaze at nature this day?”

“I do like your riddles, Miss Sharma, but I would love it if you spoke plainly,” Anthony says, his overly saccharine smile matching his mocking tone. Kate supplants Benedict spot riding next to Anthony, putting the two of you in clear view of the other.

“My sister's, right. Look, tracks are going off to the left. You can see the cloven shape in the moss,” Kate says. You spot her find, nodding your head as you gesture to the closest tree to the tracks, “The markings of the tree, deer like to rub their antlers against them.”

“Let’s stay with the group. If we find nothing, I shall offer myself up for both your target practice,” Anthony says, rolling your eyes as you scoff.

“You shall most likely come out unscathed as my target but rest assured, Kate won’t miss,” You taunt, tilting your head mockingly. Anthony narrows his eyes at you, a smile ghosting upon his lips. Kate glances between the two of you, sighing as she clears her throat, ending the moment as swiftly as it arrives. Silence blankets the three of you. You rest your head on the back of Kate’s shoulder, huffing quietly. The silence lives for only a few seconds as you perk up, “Lord Bridgerton, do you know why Lord Beauregard departed so abruptly?”

“He likely made haste once he realized you are more vexing than you are charming,” Anthony says with a matter-of-fact tone as you roll your eyes.

“I knew you thought me charming. The rest of your family certainly finds me to be so,” You fire back instantly, a smirk on your lips as you hold your chin up high. Anthony mimics your eye roll while looking ahead, your moment short-lived as William’s proposal lingers in your mind. You continue with half-hearted amusement while drumming against the saddle, “It’s unlikely William runs from me given his desire to make me his bride.”

Your eyes fog over as you presently leave the moment, Anthony’s locked stare failing to garner your attention. His voice lacks the condescension it has carried throughout the entirety of the day. He ignores Kate’s stare as he looks at you, asking, “You are engaged?”

The drop of your stomach at his question makes you sit straight as a pencil, a distant ringing in your ear faint and nagging. If Kate notices, she does not show or voice it. It seems that minutes—no perhaps hours pass since the question leaves Anthony’s lips, and yet his brother calls after him mere seconds after. Yet the question still lingers. You find yourself considering the possibilities. Will you marry him? You should have an answer. At least that’s what you believe.

Uncertain. Unbecoming. Unworthy.

A foolish—Kate’s voice pulls you back to the present. The horse comes to a stop as the masses dismount and scatters amongst the woods, “Sister, are you alright?”

“Always,” You say, climbing down with a grin. Kate eyes you carefully, and you wonder if she can see how you bury the anxiety, smothering its fire and leaving mere smoke in its wake.

Marching through the woods, you put your focus on your surroundings. You ignore how Kate challenges the others on how to go about the hunt. Kate and Anthony, too consumed bickering to notice how you veer off further and further from each of them. The lean, long-legged ruminant mammal greets your gaze with glowing reddish-brown fur with a cream-colored underbelly. A quiet chuckle leaves your lips, placing your gun down. You watch it in awe.

“Good find, bon!” Kate whispers. She joins your side, meeting your amazed expression with a proud smile. Anthony joins the two of you quite loudly, both of you shushing him as he thankfully did not manage to rouse the deer.

“Are you two quite serious? You cannot just go off like that,” Anthony scolds. Rolling your eyes, you scoff.

“If I wished to just see the trees and shrubbery, I would’ve gladly stayed and followed your very skilled guide,” Your sardonic tone earns a mocking smile, the two of you appearing like squabbling children.

“Lord Bridgerton, would you please be quiet. Bon, it’s your find. You should take the shot,” Kate says. All eyes fall on you, a chuckle leaving your parted lips as you stammer before the words escape you. Your sentences do not form or leave you as you glance at your gun.

Anthony purses his lips as Kate holds her gun out to you. You stare at the gun for several seconds, swallowing thickly. Just as you go to refuse, your blood boils as Anthony’s words reach your ears, “Miss Sharma, cowardice looks good on no one.”

“Takes a craven to know one,” You grumble. Taking the gun from Kate’s hand, you crouch down on the fallen tree. The barrel, at a comfortable place below your shoulder against your armpit, you inhale deeply, controlling the subtle tremble of your hands. Your palms glide against the gun faintly, coating it in a light sheen of sweat. You squeeze the trigger, closing your eyes, the sound scurrying away, telling you the verdict of your shot. Standing up, the sound of the hunting party rushing overfills your ears. Biting the inside of your cheek, your mind scrambles to prepare quick comebacks at the inevitable teasing that heads your way from the Viscount Bridgerton.

Just as the first few faces arrive, Anthony’s voice fills the silence, “It headed that way. It appears I am a bit rusty, but both Miss Kate and Miss (Y/n) are to be credited for finding the deer.“

Kate meets your gaze with a knowing look, but it does not matter as neither of you says a word to the other. The bout of confusion silencing, Kate does not push the subject any further than earlier, and you are grateful.

As the sky bleeds orange, it soon blackens, leaving you to lie awake with the pattering of rain outside your window to keep you company. Like most nights, you slip out of your room to your favorite part of Aubrey Hall, the steps. Sheltered by the house without being in the place. You rest your legs on your elbows on your knees, your chin against your palms like a patient child. The rain falls in heavy droplets, and light splashes mist up, just barely reaching you. It’s constant and unwavering. Approaching steps lull as soft as the pouring rain. You glance at the cup placed at your side.

“I like to have tea on my restless nights. It’s soothing,” Anthony sits at your side, staring out at the rain as he speaks. He takes a cautious sip of his own tea, glancing over at you when silence greets him. You stare at him with a raised brow glancing between him and the cup sitting next to you.

“I prefer—“

“Coffee. Perhaps if you take the time to look at the cup, you will recognize it,” Anthony says casually, taking another sip of his tea. You look at the light brown drink, steam wafting from it to your nose. The sweet smell leaves your mouth salivating in anticipation.

“Is your plot to assassinate me, Viscount Bridgerton? Presenting as a dutiful potential future brother-in-law with a cup of arsenic in hand?” You ask. Taking the handle of your cup, you bring it to your lips while holding Anthony’s gaze, amusement dancing in your eyes.

“Why, of course, my lady. Name a better pass time. I’ll wait,” He says, earning a chuckle as you wipe the remnant of the coffee from your lips. It lacks the nutmeg and cardamom you are used to. The bittersweet taste familiar but all the more different.

“Very funny, Viscount Bridgerton,” You chuckle softly, taking another sip as you peer back out at the rain. The muggy air and warm drinks flush your skin, a faint tint of reddish pink covering you. It’s serene but not perfect with the uncomfortable temperature, poor visibility, and loud silence. Yet it works. Neither you nor he moves to break this solitude. It lasts for seemingly a lifetime in mere minutes.

“William asked you to marry him?” Anthony says. You sigh, placing down your cup of coffee. You can see Anthony’s watching you from the corner of your eye.

“I presumed he would tell his best friend,” You are quick but not fast enough.

“Do you love him?” Anthony asks. You stare out at the rain with an unreadable expression. Your silence does not paint your truth to its full scope.

“I love William, I do. But I’m not in love with William,” You swallow thickly, your fingers fidgeting in your lap, “He wishes for me to be happy. Yet he does not understand what love does.”

“And what is that?” Anthony murmurs. He looks away from you, tracing the rim of his cup.

“It—“ You open your mouth just as your thoughts jumble in your mind. Taking a deep breath, Anthony glances over at you, a curious glint in his eyes. You cannot help but notice how you hold his full attention, “Love is like an anchor. It drags down to the sea. Further and further from reality, the reality is that marriage is an economic proposition. I do not wish to delve into detail, but the fantasy of love and marriage have long been sullied for me. I do not desire it nor require it. I know that may sound harsh, but it is my truth.”

“Not harsh at all. Refreshing perhaps,” Anthony says quietly. You nearly do not hear him. He takes a sip of his tea before clearing his throat, “After, uh, after my father passed, it took such a heavy toll on my mother. They shared a great love which showed all the good, but once you’ve seen the bad, it’s near—near—“

“Irreversible,” You say softly, finishing his sentence and meeting his eyes. The rain rages on, the soothing white noise all-consuming. You flinch as the sky brightens with the strike of purple lightning that flashes across the sky. The loud following booms rumbling the ancestral home.

“Perhaps it is time to retire to our rooms. Allow me to escort you,” Anthony says. You raise an eyebrow at him with a teasing grin. He rolls his eyes taking a taunting tone, “To ensure the arsenic takes, of course.”

Chuckling softly, you reach for your cup, cut off as Anthony takes it before you. You offer a mock surrender raising your hands in defeat earning a chuckle. Anthony walks you to your room door. Pausing before entering, speaking just barely above a whisper, “Tell anyone of this, and I will deny it. You are not as dreadful as you present yourself to be.”

“Great final words, my lady,” Anthony jokes, earning an eye roll as you bid him goodnight before disappearing into your room. Inside you choose not to dwell on the conversation too long, finding sleep at the touch of your face to your pillow.

You stand with Lady Danbury flittering with the uncomfortable corset rather than pay attention to all in attendance. Lady Danbury glances at you, vocalizing the arrival of Lord Beauregard. Your eyes dart across the room, considering blending into the sea of ambitious ladies and their slithering mothers.

“Miss Sharma,” William offers a warm smile while holding out a glass of wine. He apologizes for his absence, suggesting they dance.

“Mhm, do I let you off the hook so easily?” You sip your wine with a tilt of your head, a playful glint dazzling your eyes. William lets out a hearty laugh, his own sparkle shining with mischief.

“Please, oh beautiful Miss Sharma. Please forgive me, for I cannot continue without your forgiveness,” William clutches his chest, throwing his head back dramatically. The laugh that leaves your lips rises from deep in your stomach. Your cheeks grow sore as you ignore the looks of others. It’s almost easy to forget the frivolity of being in William’s company.

“Shut up and dance with me,” You chuckle. Discarding your cup, you take William’s hand, leading him to the dance floor. He bows as you curtsy, the two of you taking your uniform positions. Step back. Chin up high. Lift your hand. Turn. Each step visibly graceful and painfully robotic, controlled.

“I don’t wish to pressure you, but I cannot help but wonder where your thoughts are on my proposition of sorts,” William says. He makes the dance look easy. Each move carried out as though instinctive.

“Mhm, binding myself to the royal family who currently lacks an heir puts me dangerously close to being wed to a man who could be king someday. You offer not a simple proposition but a hefty proposal that cannot be taken lightly,” Your matter-of-fact tone impedes your count. William shifts right, covering your stumble with a light lift as he turns the both of you. When your feet touch the ground, you grumble a thank you continuing the dance, “I am too uncoordinated.”

“Some could say unique,” William counters. Taking your hand, he spins you gently.

“Unfit,” You fire back, continuing your count, step back. Hand on his shoulder, the other in his hand.

As expected of the dance, William steps forward following your step back. His nose brushes your own as his gaze does not falter, “Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Without a doubt.”

Your voice catches in your throat, William looking at you as imagine man did upon discovering fire. While your decision remains unclear, you are certain of one thing. The security and companionship of William’s offer. Your eyes glaze over, thoughts flooding your mind all at once. William chuckles softly, pulling away, continuing a simple sway. “I do not aim to make you uncomfortable or pressure you. Only for you to see you as I do.

“It appears Eloise is enjoying this night just as much as you,” William looks over at Eloise. She dances a few paces to your left. Her eyebrows pinched as her eyes narrowed at Lord…you cannot put a name to his face. In seconds the gentleman walks away as Lady Bridgerton follows Eloise to the stairs. Her exchange with her mother does not reach you, but the looks are all too familiar. Lady Violet's unable to understand her daughter but proceeds with gentle patience, Eloise’s frustration. Neither understands the other. You find yourself glancing across the room at your own mother.

She smiles encouragingly, blissfully unaware of your plight. Unable to see the world through your eyes.

“You should go after her,” William says, pulling away from the simple box step you’ve both resigned to. Your eyebrows furrow as William bows, with a fond smile as he speaks, “Eloise Bridgerton. A comely lady of the ton going against the norms of the system set upon them. Sound familiar?”

You cannot stop the smile that spreads across your face. William nudges his head toward the direction Eloise disappeared. Nodding your head, you follow the stairs, passing Penelope on your way. She quickly calls out where to find Eloise. It does not take you long to find her door. You offer two light knocks, turning your head to listen in.

“I wish to be alone!”

“Might I join you? I certainly wish for a reprieve from the farce that occurs in your family home,” Chuckling, you lean on the door frame. Shuffling behind the door greeting you with the distant music of the ball continuing on down the hall. After a few seconds, you are sure she will ignore you, but the opening of the door welcomes you. Eloise sits on the floor a few feet from the door. She pulls at the string of her dress, watching as a piece of hem gently unravels. You take a seat next to her, drumming your fingers against your thighs, “do you wish to talk about it?”

“Being my mothers' disappointment? Not particularly,” Eloise says with a matter-of-fact tone.

“I get it. The feeling is rather draining. Focus on it too much, and you’ll find yourself scrutinizing every detail about yourself,” You say, resting your head back against the wall. The laxness of your tone contrasts her furrowed eyebrows.

“You feel like your mothers' disappointment?” Her incredulous tone earns a chuckle as you nod with a gentle smile. “Not a chance. You’re pretty and charismatic, every mother's dream.”

“Many find me argumentative and blunt. Kate is more reserved. She has mastered proper etiquette. Edwina is the comely charismatic one. Most days, I can���t tell if Mother fears what I might do or what I might say,” Your words leave you quickly, shrugging as you near ramble. Wetting your lips, you chuckle as Eloise continues your rambling, “And even when you say something outside of the norm as they’re expecting, they act as though it surprises them. As if they don’t know our natures.”

“Ah, so my Mom isn’t special. It just comes with the having a mother package, I see,” You jest, chuckling softly as Eloise does as well. Only little shards of the prior remains. A reminder in the music that plays from downstairs as the ball continues. The fancy dresses you both wear that itch at the neckline and constrict your midsection. Reminders in your stations amongst society, “Eloise, we are the second daughters. The middle children, like shadows not clearly seen but fairly visible. Existing behind the first and last born daughters. It may sound like a sad reality, but there’s something rather amazing about us.”

“Being ignored and forced to conform?” Eloise’s eyebrows pinch as she stares at your chuffed stupor.

After a few seconds of staring off with the grin of a fool, you speak. Your voice much like velvet, appearing as though nothing in the world could hurt you, “We get to be whomever we wish, not what our mothers molded us to be for society.”

“Are you certain you don’t want to marry any of my brothers?” Eloise smiles, sliding closer. She rests her head on your shoulder. You kiss the crown of her head before resting your own head on hers. Eloise yawns as her words leave her, resembling a sleepy child as she says, “I do not wish for you to leave. My sisters don’t get me.”

“It’s okay. Sisters aren’t supposed to. It keeps things interesting that way,” You joke, earning a weak chuckle. Eloise does not say a word. She continues resting her head on your shoulder. A few minutes pass before Benedict pokes his head in, and you do your best to help get Eloise to bed. You both walk back to the main room together, where the party continues.

“Eloise seems to really like you,” Benedict says with a big grin. You furrow your eyebrows, looking at him.

“And just what exactly are you implying, Lord Bridgerton?” Your playful and straightened posture earns a laugh.

“Just that whether we become in-laws through our siblings or not, you, Miss Sharma, are always welcome back here. Especially for Pall-Mall,” Benedict says. His smile spreads across his face, even his eyes smiling.

“I will remember this invitation and hold you to it,” You tease, grinning as Benedict assures you his word is his bond. As you both walk, he cuts right at the dance floor. You cut left, following the outskirts of the dance floor. Edwina’s smile shines on the opposite side, the light of a young girl in her eyes. Reaching Edwina’s side, she clings to your arm with a giddy smile.

“Oh, sister! Lord Bridgerton and I have danced twice tonight. Twice!” Edwina exclaims, her smile shining up at you as she interlaces her fingers in yours. She gestures to the dance floor where Kate and Anthony dance. Your eyes stay on them as Edwina speaks, her words not fully registering as Anthony’s eyebrow furrow at something Kate says. Edwina gives your hand a light squeeze, “Oh, Didi, I’m certain he’d not have asked me for two if he did not have intentions for the evening. Kate should be giving her blessing as we speak. Oh, isn’t it all so exciting, sister? We shall both be wed before the season's end!”

“Yeah,” Chuckling softly, your eyes stay on Kate and Anthony. Anthony’s eyes widen before scanning around the room. His search halts as he captures your gaze. Edwina still speaks, oblivious to your lack of attention or how Kate looks between you and your staring partner. Anthony glances at the door and back at you; arching your brow, you turn to Edwina. Your pensive stare eludes her as she rambles with a large smile, painting the vision she sees of your future. Anthony politely bows to Kate before leaving the room as Kate joins you and Edwina. If she notices how your eyes follow Anthony out of the room, she does not give any inkling of it as she nods along to Edwina’s excitement. Your ears ring as the various colored gowns of the room muddle, and your vision splinters. You swallow dryly, the ringing in your ears growing louder. Pulling at the edge of your short-sleeved dress brings a faint cool to your flushed skin.

“Sister, are you alright?” Edwina’s voice snaps you back into the present, looking at her with a weak smile.

“Just a bit warm. I think I shall take a moment to get some air,” The words leave you quickly, almost incoherently. You do not look at Kate, her gaze burning a hole into the side of your head. The corridor outside of the ball greets you with low light and a cool breeze from the open back door. Anthony stands on the porch pacing back and forth. You look at him and then glance back at the doors that lead into the ball. You should go back inside, of this you are sure. Despite this, you take a few steps forward, your light efforts capturing his attention. You tilt your head toward the library doors before entering without a word. The room is far more lit than the hall, with many candles and closed windows drying your mouth. You eye the pitcher and cup on the desk, undoubtedly some form of alcohol—hopefully far stronger than wine.

Anthony slams the door behind him, his fists clenching as he paces. You roll your eyes, crossing your arms, your mocking tone filling the silence, “Please just share what I have done this time. The suspense is killing me.”

“When will you leave? Huh?” He asks, furrowing your eyebrows; he gives you no time to speak. A mirthless chuckle leaves his lips, “Oh, Miss Sharma, now you are one for silence?”

“What are you going on about?” You scoff, narrowing your eyes at his condescension.

“Your sister speaks of your plans to depart back to India, so when shall you leave?” Anthony grits his teeth, hissing his words as he steps closer to you. Your eyebrows quirk up, staring into his eyes, quickly identifying what lies across his face—utter betrayal. Anthony shakes his head, scoffing, “Of course, you grow silent when one desires you to speak. You live to get under my skin. I’m almost certain god has sent you to punish me.”

“Lord Bridgerton, I fear we have found ourselves in a conundrum that if it ever came to light, I fear my family would never forgive me. We mustn’t confuse our understanding and friendly nature for something entirely different. Yes, I can be infuriating and insolent, but it's a part of my charm, I think. We are just confused. A line is blurring between us,” A weak chuckle leaves your lips. How can one want to punch and kiss someone all at once? You shake your head as though to rid yourself of the thought and feeling. Internally scolding yourself for ignoring Kate’s warnings, you clear your throat, “You seek a wife of perfection, which my sister can provide. That is simply where we must stand.”

“I am a man of honor and of certainty. I have been certain of what I seek of what I want from start to finish in all things. Especially matters of my family, and yet—“ He pauses, inhaling sharply as he looks at you. The look in his eyes that was not there before that you have not seen before.

“Here, in your quick wit and inability to listen to reason, you challenge all I stand on—all my certainty. Your sister and I share understanding, but there is no shroud for what we share,” Anthony stands before you with a look of utter desperation, of devotion. His eyes reflect all you feel. The confusion, the frustration, the desire.

“Lord Bridgerton—” Straightening your posture, you clear your throat. It falls on deaf ears as Anthony steps closer, his hand ghosting over your cheek. The heat of his palm spreads across your face like wildfire that never quite touches. He speaks quietly as though coveting his words “(Y/n). Tell me you feel nothing. Tell me, your mind does not feel the temptation of this dalliance? Do you have no comprehension of how you plague me?”

Your voice sits in your throat. Every muscle in your body tense as though you await something cataclysmic. Neither of you takes your eyes off the other. His hand still cradles the air centimeters from your cheek. The crackling of the fireplace fills the silence.

It all implodes with the faintest tilt of your head into his palm. You both pull forward sharply. His hands cradle your face as your foreheads touch. You place a hand on his shoulder. The proximity dizzying. The feel of him all-consuming. You squeeze your eyes shut, the consequences be damned.

“This is wrong,” You whisper, gripping his shoulder and taking long deep breaths through your nose. His breath tickles your lips as the space between you further closes.

“Oh!” You flinch back, Daphne’s eyes looking from you to her brother. Her eyes are wide as Anthony steps toward her. She looks back at you, speaking softly as your glassy eyes stare back at her like a fearful child, “I’m sorry.”

Daphne leaves the room hastily, with Anthony chasing behind her. You walk to the desk, pouring a quick glass of the drink. The drink makes you grimace as you swallow it down in one go. You do not look up as the door opens again, crying out desperately, “I require something stronger, please!”

“Oh, Bon,” Kate says softly. You rest your hands flat on the desk letting your head hang as your tears fall beneath you. She pulls you into a tight hug, letting you sob into her shoulder. You refuse to share the source of your despair, your thoughts haunting you. Kate was right. Even William was aware, “Oh (Y/n).”

“Didi, it’s all wrong. It’s all wrong! ” You cry out, looking up at her. She cradles your face. All red and puffy.

“Bon, we will get through this, I promise you. Wipe your tears and show me the fearsome (Y/n) I know.” Kate says, kissing your forehead. She takes you up to bed, tucking you in, even brushing her fingers through your hair as you quietly cry with your back toward her. When Edwina stops in, she offers well wishes before bed. It only fuels the fire of your despair.

The following day, you rise early, bathing before hastily packing your things. You thank the heavens that Kate makes no mention of the night prior, nor does Daphne. Your goodbyes? Almost robotic as you anxiously await packing away into the carriage and leaving Aubrey Hall behind. Kate holds your hand, offering occasional light squeezes as the three of you stand by the carriage. Edwina glances at your interlaced hands and says nothing as she takes your free hand in her own, kissing the top of your hand.

The slight chill of the morning breeze does nothing to cool the warmth that holds you captive. Your palms are sweaty as your stomach wrestles itself. You look at Edwina on the brink of tears, her eyebrows furrowing at the sight.

“Sister, are you alright?” Edwina’s head tilts as she gently squeezes your hand. Your throat drying just before you can find your words.

“Um, I need to—“ You speak quietly, the calling of wait making you tense as you all turn toward the front door of Aubrey Hall. Anthony marches down the stairs with unwavering confidence, squeezing Kate’s hand tight; you swallow dryly.

“May I speak with you?” He says. You fail to notice how Edwina slips her hand out of yours as well as how Anthony's eyes do not meet your own. Your ears ring so loud you do not hear the words that leave Anthony’s lips, only registering the knee he takes as he holds a ring out to Edwina. Kate whispers in your ear, coaching you to keep it together as your nails dig into her palms. Edwina’s eyes are large and shining. She looks at you and Kate. The smokescreen of pending nuptials blinds her to the mournful look that holds your face. Your mother focuses too intently on Edwina and Anthony to notice but Lady Danbury? Lady Danbury eyes you with a knowing look, but still, she says nothing. As the seconds pass like hours, your expression sharpens as though the despair never existed. You look at Kate, offering a curt nod.

“I do wonder about the trim. Is it too much?” Edwina asks, standing up on the podium as your mother beams up at her. You are certain the last you saw her so happy was when your father was still alive. Sitting by the window, you lazily peer out at nothing in particular. No one comments on your icy demeanor, but you know they have noticed it.

“Nothing is too much now that the Queen is hosting,” Your mother smiles, looking from Edwina to the Modiste. As your mother continues to look over different fabrics, Edwina may like the room grows silent in her absence. Kate steals glances at you as Edwina takes in the view of her gown.

“Did I mention we will be married by the archbishop himself?” Edwina says gleefully. Kate's smile does not reach her eyes as she nods and watches you. The bride-to-be glances over at you with a frown, “Sister, did something happen between you and the Duke? You’ve been unwell since the last night before we left Aubrey Hall.”

“We are fine,” Your flat tone barely audible as you continue eyeing the bustling road outside.

“Sister, you should accept his proposal. Then we would both have royal weddings, and you would be a royal! The Queen already adores you, and I’ve seen the way Lord Beauregard looks at you,” Edwina says, her smile large and tone encouraging. You purse your lips looking over at Kate. She holds your gaze before you turn back to the window. Edwina frowns, observing the brief moment, but she says nothing. Instead, she maintains her smile, “We must get you both dresses as well. Special ones. This wedding is as much both for your triumphs as it is for mine. Both of you clearly said something that swayed him to declare himself.”

“We cannot claim credit, Bon,” Kate says, chuckling slowly while shaking her head, but Edwina insists. You chew on your bottom lip, ignoring the burn of your throat, blinking continuously. Kate reminds Edwina that you both plan to leave after the wedding if you have not accepted William’s proposal.

Back at Lady Danbury’s, you hide away in your shared room, sitting by the window lazily drumming your fingers against your leg. You let out a frustrated huff, your sulking growing utterly dull. Biting the inside of your cheek, you glance at your room door, perhaps a venture outside. You stick your head out of the door, looking down both sides of the corridor before stepping lightly out. Where your mother is currently is not to your knowledge, but you know she will prevent wandering if she catches wind of it. You move carefully past the tearoom, freezing in your tracks.

“—nothing appropriate about what you’re doing proceeding with your engagement,” Kate seethes. Frowning, you press your ear to the door.

“On the contrary, I believe it is the most proper outcome for all,” Anthony says, rolling your eyes as you glare at the door as though he stands before you.

“Oh, and what of everything that has happened between you and my sister at Aubrey Hall?” Kate says. The silence tenses every muscle in your body as you await his answer.

“Nothing passed between Miss (Y/n) and I,” Anthony says cooly, a blatant lie. You bawl your fists. How dare he! Opening your eyes to something you could have easily continued oblivious to, only to shut you out completely. You march off to the stairs, stopping at the sight of your mother and sister at the bottom of them.

“Is that so? If I recall correctly, you appeared angrier than hornets at the prospect of her departure,” Kate says, “I can recall the way your eyes find her in every room. The way you look at her, far more than a prospective brother-in-law. If she accepts Lord Beauregard’s proposal, you will be bound to each other in a tortuous way forever. ”

“Would Miss (Y/n) and I being the ones to marry after all my public courting of Miss Edwina, be the outcome you desire?” Anthony asks. You greet them with a large smile stalling as you scratch the back of your neck.

“No, but I’m certain it’s yours,” Kate says. You make certain to enter the room first, giving Lord Bridgerton and Kate a moment to step away from each other. Anthony greets your sister and mother with a polite smile. It falters as he meets your gaze. You roll your eyes quickly, averting your gaze to your mother.

“I will return in seconds. You lot can begin without me,” You sputter, leaving the room before your mother can protest. She calls out to you, but you are already out of the door and halfway down the stairs. A pair of hands steadying you at your waist as you crash into a chest.

“Easy there. Are you always so spritely?” William chuckles, offering a warm grin as you recollect yourself. He frowns, taking a good look at you, “(Y/n) are you—?”

“If we were to wed, would you consider coming to India?” You ask. It’s selfish and wrong, complicating your situation even further if possible.

“I uh—well, I could, but once my grandfather leaves us, I will have to return. His responsibilities shall fall to me,” William says, his eyebrows furrowing as he looks at you, “(Y/n) I only want you to consider this if you truly see it in your future.”

“Let’s not fret over it now. Mother will wish to see you. Come,” You take his arm, pulling him along with you to the tearoom. Your mother and Edwina smile happily at William’s presence in the room. Anthony stares at the two of you, his eyes locked on your intertwined arms.

“Well, now that you are all here. I have news. Lord and Lady Sheffield sent word they are in London,” Lady Danbury says. You do not hide your grimace, looking up at Lady Danbury in pure disgust. Kate looks at your mother as Edwina smiles.

“Our grandparents?” Edwina says, looking at you. You look down at the door, counting each line you can see in the wood.

“Indeed. It seems they read the engagement announcement and wish to make your acquaintance and, uh, that of your future husband, of course,” Lady Danbury ignores the lack of reaction from all of you except Edwina. You scoff quietly, muttering to yourself, “Of course they do.”

“They are already in town?” Kate asks. William glances between you and your family, and so does Anthony. The best friends look at each other before Anthony addresses the elephant in the room. You glance at your mother, the way she controls her shallow breathing—looking around as though seeking an escape. Her mannerisms are familiar, too familiar.

Anthony escorts Edwina to the promenade as William escorts you. Your disposition even lower than before somehow. William stops in his tracks, crossing his arms. You stop not looking up, just waiting for him to rejoin you. When he does not, you look up with a frown.

“I’ve never seen you so, so gloomy. There must be some form of an insult or jest just charging up in there,” William smiles gently, watching as you shake your head, lowering your gaze. “Do you wish to talk about it?”

You sigh as the two of you walk again, nodding your head slowly, “My grandparents are just awful. Overcritical and impossible to please. I’m in no mood for them presently.”

“Well then, before the impending doom that comes from your grandparents' presence, perhaps you shall humor me?” William asks, standing on the ports and gesturing to the secured rowboat. “If I become insufferable, I will happily allow you to throw me overboard.”

“Promise?” You say quietly, fighting the grin that takes your lips as William smirks.

“You have my word,” He says, offering his hand out to her. She takes it, allowing him to help her into the board. He then gets in himself, untying the rope and pushing off the port. “In the colder season, this freezes over. It’s rather fun to step on the top of the ice and glide around. I tend to fall a lot doing it, but it’s all in good fun, I swear it.”

“Really?” The laugh that leaves your lips appears foreign, replacing your petulant stares. You look over the side of the water, picturing William struggling to stay atop the frozen terrain.

“Careful, you’re tilting the boat,” William says, raising an eyebrow. You smirk. Your eyes shine with a glint of mischief.

“What, like this?” You say, shifting your weight from one side to the other William gives grips the edge of the boat, giving you a hard stare. After a few seconds, it melts into a grin as he dips his hand in the water, splashing it up at you. You squeal, shielding your face as you splash water up at him. The two of you laugh like giddy children, gaining the attention of the many who walk around the promenade.

Kate chaperones Edwina and Anthony. They watch the two of you. Anthony’s gaze does not leave your form. Edwina’s words fall on deaf ears as he locks onto your laughter. Your younger sister gasping, pulls Anthony back into the present as the boat overturns, sending both you and William into the water. Both you and William resurface, laughing infectiously, not caring how everyone watches the two of you.

“You tipped the boat over, not me!” You exclaim, helping William push the boat toward the port.

“Says the one who insisted on rocking the boat,” William playfully scoffs as the two of you near the port flipping the boat right side up. You look up, grinning as Kate shakes her head at you, and Edwina happily points out your better mood.

“It seems you always know how to lift her spirits, Lord Beauregard,” Edwina says with a smile. William smiles at your sister, giving her a polite nod, his smile lessening as his gaze moves to Anthony.

“Miss Sharma, please allow me,” Anthony says, offering his hand out to you as he bends down. You stare at it, set on ignoring it, but Kate gives you a look as she gestures to the wandering eyes around you all. Accepting his hand begrudgingly, you quickly pull away from him, standing next to Kate. Your dress clings to you, dripping water down your entire body. William climbs onto the pier turning to fasten the boat back to the log, but Anthony’s already tying it tight.

“Fret not, friend. You always did struggle with tying knots,” The dig’s not lost on you nor Kate. You glare at Anthony, chewing on the inside of your cheek. Anthony and William stare at each other, the tension high as you look around, noticing the other onlookers growing. You narrow your eyes, stepping forward and pushing your palm against Anthony’s side. He stumbles forward into William, the two crashing into the lake.

Your jaw drops as they hurdle into the water, Edwina exclaiming your name as you fail to fight back your laughter. The water splashing up at the three of you, only fueling your amusement. Kate's eyes widen as her gaze bounces between you and the two lords in the water.

Anthony plants his hands flat on the pier glaring up at you as he lifts himself up first. His soaking-wet shirt now sheer, leaving nothing to the imagination. Kate nudges your side, reminding both you and Edwina of the inappropriate nature of staring. Even as the words leave her lips, the three of you shamelessly watch him. The show not ending as William pulls himself up. It’s wrong, oh so wrong, but every passing thought in your mind bubbles, leaving a warmth at your core.

“That was fun,” Smiling, you look between your sisters, who both shake their heads at you. Kate suggests it’s time to head back in worry of you getting sick. Your dress still drips water as you casually bounce on the balls of your feet. In the carriage, you sit next to Kate, resting your head on her shoulder while gently kicking Edwina’s feet.

“Bon, your hair is still wet,” Kate sighs, failing to shrug you off. Edwina giggles softly, moving her feet as you follow hers.

“Quite observant, Miss Sharma,” You chuckle, rubbing your hair against her side, earning a groan as she pushes you away. Edwina covers her soft chuckles with her hand as she watches the two of you. The carriage ride’s mostly quiet beyond a few snickers and Kate’s annoyance with your persistence.

Back at Lady Danbury’s, you openly gape at the sight of an indisputable fact—you are indeed your mothers' child. For hours your mother rushes around like a mad woman. She rushes about the house between making sure you all wear the perfect dress to the intricate styles of your hair and the jewelry you accessorize with. Not a single thing out of place, snarkily reminding you that today’s not the day for nonsense, as she calls it.

Kate offers you a weak smile as you roll your eyes grumbling beneath your breath. If either your mother or Kate dislikes the Sheffields more than you, they hide it well. The last time you can recall seeing them at the ripe age of five, you glared at them for the entirety of your visit. Their interest only stemming from the gossip about your exciting personality, to later deem you unruly. You never did understand why your mother even sent you there. The damage—irreversible.

“It’s just one dinner,” Kate says, fiddling gently with your hair smoothing out every little menial imperfection.

“Yes, one dinner of those people we have to call family scrutinizing every little detail about us. About mother. About you,” You take a deep breath, your expression hardening as you swallow dryly. Edwina enters the room doing a light twirl, her smile large. There’s a clear difference between who can remember meeting the Sheffields and who does not. Edwina’s smile falters at the sight of your pensive stare. She walks, placing her hands on your shoulders with an encouraging smile.

“There is still time to take a small nap if you need didi. I can distract Mama,” Edwina says, chuckling softly as you shake your head, leaning your head onto her hand.

“I appreciate it, bon, but I know a nap will do nothing but agitate me further,” You glance at the door watching your mother jet past. A chuckle leaves your lips, “And quite frankly, Mama as well.”

“Edwina dear, I need to speak with your sister alone,” Your mother enters the room, taking a deep breath as she softly pants. Edwina smiles, nodding her head and leaving the room without a further word. Lady Mary looks at you with her lips pursed.

“I know, Mother. I do not require further instructions for dinner tonight. Be punctual, proper, and pleasant,” You huff, crossing your arms. Lady Mary sighs, walking over. She takes your hands.

“Oh, my wildflower child, you are all those things. I’ve come not to lecture you but to check on you. I know you carry strong feelings about my parents, and if at any point this dinner is too much, you do not have to stay for the entirety of it,” She says softly. You know her words are untrue. To leave dinner so abruptly would only further their thoughts of you.

“Right, so they can nod their heads and look down on me as the defective one of their bloodline. I will not,” Your words are sharp and tense. You stand with perfect posture. Lady Mary shakes her head, but her protests mean nothing, do nothing. You stand, appearing the complete antithesis of the girl everyone knows. “If I could get through two weeks of your parents as a child, then I can get through one dinner. I no longer wish to continue discussing this topic, Mother.”

She takes a half step back from you, keeping your hands in hers. The glint in her eyes as familiar as the one all those years ago when you returned home, guilt. She does not say another word. Nodding her head, she kisses the tops of your hands softly before leaving the room. You fan yourself with your hands, the room uncomfortably hot. The faint tremble of your hands clear as you clasp them in front of you, taking a long deep breath.

After a few minutes, you leave the room in search of your sisters. Lady Danbury smiles, walking with her cane as she calls out to you. She compliments your appearance, the rich red gown complimenting your skin tone. Lady Danbury wears her knowing smirk with a present glint in her eyes, seemingly always present. The two of you enter the room together, clearly interrupting your sisters. Lady Danbury smiles as you appear ready to walk the plank.

“Our guests have arrived,” Lady Danbury announces with a large smile. Her eyes solely on Edwina, who giggles with a giddy smile, leaving the room hastily. Before either of you can follow, Lady Danbury's hand shoots out, halting you as she sidesteps Kate. Her smile falls as eyes look between the two of you.

“You may spare us the instruction, Lady Danbury. We know we are to be on our best behavior,” Kate says with a polite smile. You bite the inside of your cheek, staring off with a blank expression.

“You think me an unfeeling harridan,” She says to Kate before turning to look at you, “and you hide from me as though I see right through you. Well, ladies, I am hosting this dinner for both your sakes.”

“You know nothing of my relationship with those people,” You scoff, glaring up at her.

“And yet I do,” Lady Danbury says, her gaze softening just a tad. Mother told her. You look away from her crossing your arms as you shift on the balls of your feet. “Going forward, Edwina’s betrothal may be the end of certain hopes you’ve harbored regarding the Viscount but access to the Sheffield fortune.”

“I want nothing to do with those people or the Viscount. I will take a lifetime of struggle before I am under the Sheffields' control or ruin this for Edwina. You speak so far out of place,” You narrow your eyes at her, but she merely chuckles.

“Oh dear, you can do better than that. Dear, the life of independence you seek is close, Kate. And you (Y/n)? You have been presented with an opportunity of a lifetime. A marriage to a royal. Security for the rest of your life and full independence from your grandparents. I implore you both to think of the reward of the coming events. Think of your futures. Deny the feelings and passions as you please, but once it cools. You dear have an abundant future ahead of you, where you and your sisters are happy,” Lady Danbury stands in front of both of you. Nostalgia dances in her eyes as she smiles with a bittersweetness to her expression. You blink away the heat in your eyes, taking a deep breath to will away the bundle of nerves that dance in your stomach. When neither of you says a word, Lady Danbury smiles once more, “Come along, girls, it’s time for dinner.”

In the hallway, Edwina follows closely behind Lady Danbury. Her light pink dress sparkling in the warm candlelight. You walk with your arm folded into Kate’s, your jewel-tone gowns matching just as much as your forced polite smiles.

“Ah, Lord and Lady Sheffield, it has been too long,” Lady Danbury’s jubilant demeanor easing the suffocating tension. Not long enough, in any other circumstance, these words leave your lips, but now? Now you keep your head high and posture statue-like, “May I present Miss Sharma, Miss (Y/n), and Miss Edwina Sharma.”

You and Edwina stand before your grandparents with differing expressions as Lady and Lord Sheffield take you both in.

“Oh, my dears, look at the two of you. Aren’t they lovely?” Lady Sheffield gushes, looking between the two of you. You meet Lord Sheffield's gaze, both of you eyeing the other with similar scrutiny. Edwina voices pleasantries for the both of you. Their questions and invitations flowed quickly, evidently aimed at Edwina. They remember you just as vividly as you remember them. Still, you keep your head high, posture perfect, and expression neutral.

“Mother. Father,” Your mother greets them, leaving a chilling silence in her wake.

“I do enjoy the opera. My sister Kate is the one who introduced me to it,” Edwina says, maintaining her high spirits as she smiles over at Kate. Your jaw clenches at the forced smile Lady Sheffield sends Kate’s way, her disapproval coated in honey. Another painstakingly loud silence follows before Lady Danbury recommends they all head to the dinner table. Her diversion from the simmering tension was swift, temporarily successful.

You meet Anthony’s gaze, offering a mocking smile before following behind the others. His eyes follow you into the room, a soft sigh leaving his lips as you join Kate’s side. Edwina walks hand in hand with Lady Sheffield, who dotes upon her.

At the table, Kate sits to your right, with Lady Sheffield to your left. To your further misfortune, Anthony sits in front of you. You ignore the hole he stares into your head at the start of dinner.

“And, of course, you must be our guests at the Sheffield Manor. It is nothing compared to the estates at Aubrey Hall, to be sure, but I think it a most pretty part of Hertfordshire,” You stare at the place setting as though it’s the most incredible thing you have ever seen. Analyzing every minuscule detail of the fall colors as a better alternative to the active conversation. If you notice the glances from Kate and Anthony, you do not show it.

“Do you shoot? We a have a fine stock of birds, and you're always welcome,” Lord Sheffield says, his voice booming through the dining room. Anthony’s gaze flicks from you to your grandfather. He thanks Lord Sheffield for the invitation, expressing his enjoyment in shooting.

“Kate and (Y/n) do as well. (Y/n) is an excellent tracker, and Kate, a great shot. A most efficient duo. All three of them nearly bagged a stag on our trip to the country,” Edwina looks at you, smiling. You mirror her smile before lowering your gaze once more. The cold food and untouched table setting sit staring back at you. Lady Sheffield's mirthless chuckle fills your ears as she looks over at you. Her faux saccharine smile and words pointed, “How unusual. Do they teach young ladies to hunt and shoot in India?”

“Only the fortunate ones,” Kate mutters, snickering; you bite the inside of your cheek. It’s the first real smile on your lips all night. You catch your mothers' smirk at Kate, her gaze shifting to you. She wears a soft smile.

“Uh, Lord and Lady Sheffield, how long do you plan to stay in town?” Kate asks politely. You reach for your cup of wine, taking a long sip. Say in the morning, preferably in the hour.

“Oh, we shall stay for the wedding. And of course, for (Y/n)’s when she weds the Queen’s nephew,” Lady Sheffield speaks definitely with merriment to her tone. She speaks as though she’s boasting of something she’s accomplished as if she knows you—any of you truly.

“I have yet to decide if I will accept his proposal,” Your neutral facade wavers, your jaw clenching once more. The grip on your glass so tight that the brown of your knuckles shines white.

“Oh nonsense dear, you shall not let such a generous offer pass you,” Lady Sheffield chuckles as though she shares a beautiful joke. Only Lord Sheffield laughs. You take a deep breath covering your grimace with another long sip of wine. The bounce of your leg beneath the tablecloth gently rattles the glass atop the table. To your disdain, Lady Sheffield continues, “Imagine. The Queen herself overseeing my granddaughter's nuptials and welcoming my other granddaughter into her own family, with all things considered. Her majesty is kind to be so forgiving after everything that has happened.”

“Now, now. We are all family here,” Lord Sheffield says. You finish your wine, letting out a long shaky sigh. To your surprise, your grandfather tries and fails to deter his wife.

“An earl, no less than twelve thousand acres. Any other young lady would’ve fallen to her knees in gratitude that her parents were showing such care,” Lady Sheffield says. You glance at your mother, your patience thinning by the second. She shakes her head slightly. Lady Violet's attempts to switch the topic falls on ears, your deep breaths growing louder. Even Lady Danbury tries to engage Lady Sheffield in pleasant conversation, but it’s clear the elephant in the room will not be ignored. “And all for what? A mere clerk, was he? And with a child from a previous marriage to God-knows-who.”

“My mother has a name,” Kate maintains an even tone, her shoulders squaring as you now openly glare at your grandmother. The wine warms your skin, shoving you closer to your wit's end.

“We could not show our faces in society for years. Not that she should care. She simply sailed away from all of us with that man,” Lady Sheffields says, your fist hitting the table with a loud bang. Reveling in how she flinches, her eyes widen at your nerve. The room stills, all eyes on you.

“That man is my father, and you do well to speak of him with reverence. You cry about appearance in society when you ignore your beautiful family in favor of acrimonious feelings toward the glue that holds the three of us together. Kate may not share our mother, but she is the very best of us. So you will not sit here and speak ill of her before me,” You practically hiss your words as you stare at your grandmother. There’s so much more that you must say that you want to say, but as always, you are never truly heard.

“Dear, we do not aim to hurt you or your half-sister. It is your mother who sailed away with that man robbing us of our two grandchildren.” Lady Sheffield ignores your comment about your father, omitting him entirely. The tenderness in her words like poison in your ears.

“Three. Your three grandchildren. I have three daughters with whom you have had every opportunity to form a connection. Like a fool, I sent one of them in hopes of you all fostering a connection only for her to return, unlike herself. But at the end of it all, the choice to shun us was yours alone,” Your mother speaks with an impressive blend of being stern and soft-spoken. “And do not think I took it lightly being cast out by the only family I had ever known. I was heartbroken, indeed. But in time, I came to see that, in your cruelty, you did us all a great service.”

“Mother, you require no explanation for these people,” You say, earning a warm smile from your mother as she looks at you.

“I have always admired your warrior spirit, my sweet girl, but this is not your fight,” Lady Mary says. You nod your head swallowing thickly as Lord Sheffield tries to dissuade you all from continuing. Your mother stares at her own, “When you cast me out, you set me free. Free to raise my daughters far from your constant judgment and craven demands that they should chase wealth and titles above all else!”

You smile to yourself. Never had you seen your mother so defiant. Never had you felt so close to her, so like her. Lady Sheffield scoffs, “You are a fine one to talk. You turn your nose up at my parenting but look at your children. The child not of this family is a spinster who muddles the very integrity and reputation of your own daughters. (Y/n) shoots and speaks with volatility unbecoming of a young lady. It’s a miracle she has the prospect of securing English nobility? It is clear Edwina will succeed, and I will always question the very foundation of how with such influences.”

Unbecoming. Unfit. Unworthy.

The words ring loudly in your ears, inhaling sharply, the table squabble no longer reaches you. Your shoulders drop as your stomach turns. Lady Sheffield rehashing the terms of yours and Edwina’s trust fund barely reaching you. You swallow the burn in your throat, struggling to blink away the water that wells in your eyes. Gaze low; the high-pitched ringing in your ears—disorienting.

“That is enough!” Anthony’s voice rips you from your own head. He looks from your grandmother to meet your teary-eyed gaze. His own only softens for a second at the sight of you before turning back to your grandparents, his expression one of frustration, “I can only think you’ve been exiled from good society because of your deficient manners rather than any other sin. Since the moment you arrived, you have failed to show the proper respect for the Sharma family and I will not stand for it.”

“I declare—“ Lord Sheffield says.

“I will not stand for it. Lady Mary has done admirably in raising her daughters. They are intelligent, kind, and loyal women. A credit to both their parents. And since you clearly do not wish to jeopardize your social standing by associating with such company, I suggest you do not. You may leave at once!” Anthony declares, staring at him. Your head spins as it did that night in Aubrey Hall. The weight of your reality harrowing as you glance at Edwina. Anthony rises from his chair. Your grandmother voices her disbelief as he walks away from the table. Standing by the door, he calls out, “Please send for Lord and Lady Sheffield’s carriage. They can wait outside. And do not trouble yourself waiting for an invitation to the wedding, for you shall not receive one.”

Your mother’s the first to apologize, but Anthony sternly announces he and his mother will be departing immediately. The tension in the air far more thick than it began. Your mother and Kate run after Edwina leaving you and Lady Danbury alone. After a few seconds, you exit the room without a further word, ignoring her knowing stare. You do not realize where your feet carry you through the corridors until you see the back of Lady Violet and Anthony.

“Lord Bridgerton, a word,” You call out, narrowing your eyes as he disregards you, “I have spent this night being insulted and humiliated. All I’m asking for is a moment of your time.”

“I owe you nothing,” Anthony huffs, looking back at you. You tilt your head, not needing to say, but you do with actual words. He pauses, sighing before telling his mother he will meet her at their home. You walk him to one of the many side rooms, your words leaving you quickly as you assure him Edwina did not know.

“It is clear she was as much in the dark as I. I am not upset with your sister. Is there something further you wish to discuss?” Anthony speaks sternly, his hands behind his back as he glowers at you.

Your eyebrows furrow, his understanding words not matching his expression. You continue cautiously, “No, uh, I just wanted to thank you for what you did back in there.”

“That is of no import. I take it there’ll be no dowry. Now that the Sheffields have withdrawn their support,” He speaks mechanically, like a cog in the machine of English nobility. You open your mouth, but no words leave you, “I’ll take your silence as confirmation. Clearly, both Miss Edwina and I have been misled, and it is best to call off this doomed engagement.”

“Oh, now you suddenly lack the desire to wed my sister,” You scoff, shaking your head, narrowing your eyes at him, “I am many things, but a fool is not one. Something is happening between us, and you’re using this lapse as an out for the mess you put us in.”

“Says the one who weaponizes her disdain for marriage as a tool against her grandparents,” He counters his accusatory tone and steps forward, doing little to faze you.

“The resentment of my grandparents and my resulting outlook on marriage is of no consequence to our dilemma. You are to wed Edwina, and I am to return to India with Kate,” You watch as his jaw clenches at the mention of India. Rolling your eyes, you huff, “Why do you insist upon casting Edwina aside?”

“You are the very source of all my strenuous relationships. I jeopardize my longest and dearest friendship due to your very presence. Your sister, Kathani, battles me daily not against my union with Miss Edwina but how I look upon you. Now you wish me to bind myself to you for all eternity, doomed to never have you in the light to which I desire. I am a gentleman. My father raised me to act with honor, but that honor thins and weakens with every interaction we share. Vanquishing you from my mind proves to be futile, as you plague my being without endless.” You move away from pacing faintly as you shake your head. His eyes stay on you, longing—pleading for a response.

“No, Lord Bridgerton. I cannot—I will not take part in this dalliance any longer. You confuse your feelings. Edwina is who you seek,” You speak barely above a whisper, your voice catching in your throat as he steps closer again. His hand on your cheek.

“Yet you are who I found. You challenge my feelings, yet you make no objection to my close proximity. You told your sister you intend to bend my nerves till they break. Miss Sharma, they have broken. Give me your love, hate, disgust. I want it all as long as it comes from you, only from you. You are infectious and come without a cure,” He whispers, his lips ghosting over your own. Shamelessly allowing him to drink you in, and as fast as the moment comes, it goes. He pulls away, walking hastily to the door, his words low, “I must take my leave.”

You let out a breath you had not been aware of holding. Your hand comes to cover your lips as your tears flow. The door opens once more, but you do not look up, uncaring of who has found you.

“Oh, Bon,” Kate says at your side. She pulls you into her arms. She knows the looks, the pauses, the warnings—Kate’s known all along.

“Didi, I fear you have been right. The Viscount and I dance around feelings I cannot explain nor reveal to Bon. I have ruined everything. I will ruin everything.” Kate shushes you softly, cradling you in her arms like an injured animal. When she finally coaxes you to walk with her to your shared room, you cannot meet Edwina’s eye inside.

“Oh, Didi,” Edwina gasps, taking your hands as she leans down, attempting to meet your gaze. You squeeze your eyes shut, taking a deep breath in as you build your courage.

“Bon, I fear you will hate me, but you must know I carried no intention to keep this from you so—” Your voice wavers as you still fail to meet her eye. Once the words are out, you cannot hide them. Not from Edwina, not from yourself.

“Didi, I could never hate you. I understand your disdain against marriage now, and once I am married to the Viscount, there will be ample funds to provide for all of us,” Her words strike you quickly. You say her name softly, but she shakes her head, “I want nothing more than to be his wife. His Viscountess. But first, he must forgive us. Do you think he will?”

Kate glances at you, your teary-eyed expression hardening. Before your sister's eyes, you bury it. You bury it so deep that not even looking in the mirror will show you signs of it. You clear your throat nodding your head, “He will. I will make certain of it, Bon.”

You lay with Edwina in her bed, rubbing her scalp as you soothe her to bed. As sleep captures her, you look at Kate. Mouthing your words, ending the previous conversation for good.

“He must marry Edwina.”

[mrghostrat]

i appreciate all the kindness for my uni rejection, and anyone going through the same thing should def read through my replies if they need similar comfort. there’s a lot of “ATAR isn’t everything!” comments tho, which made me realise i haven’t actually talked much about my goals, so i wanted to share a little context.

i’m 30 (on the 17th). i took a gap year after high school and i went to uni at 19. i even dropped out a semester before graduating to pursue the one thing that was making me happy (my first original comic) during a really bad depression (undiagnosed adhd burnout). i got the last units and graduated a year later, a bachelor of game design.

haven’t used my degree once. i went into comics and freelance rather than games. but i also loved that degree and would do it all again, it was absolutely worth it.

i’ve been freelance and self sufficient for 6-7 years, and it’s fun and i’m proud of the things i’ve made, but i’m so tired. i’m specifically tired of having to work 7 different angles to make up one sufficient salary, and even if it ends up being temporary, i’d give anything for a 9-5. have someone else in charge for once.

got to the end of my rope last year and sat down to figure out what i like and what i’m good at. a Life Plan, yknow. i’ve always had an interest in teaching, helping, connecting like that. figured out degrees and became really invested in this new trajectory i pictured my life going on. i was also tired of waiting, because every time i wanted to move back to the city from this tiny town we’re in, somethings come up or delayed it. so zita helped me figure out how we could get the ball rolling and break our lease 3 months early, so we could move back to melbourne and i could start my degree this year. we looked for (and found) an apartment specifically on the side of the city that would be closest to my campus.

i hope that gives a lil context as to why i’m so devastated right now. the last 5 months have been me revving up to start this new chapter at the end of feb and one little email said nah.

the degree i wanted to do was a double degree, secondary education (hons) and a BA of fine arts. i was equally excited for both, because i never got to do a lot of actual art learning in my last degree, and the BA would give me all of that— life drawing, sculpting, painting, wood/metal/jewellery working, digital, fuckin everything. but it was the less important of the pair, when it comes to getting myself a job as an art teacher, because i already have the art experience. it was just a fun bonus, and the education degree was the one i NEEDED.

in nov i had to travel to melbourne to present a portfolio and interview for the BA. they showed me around the studio too, and i fell a little bit in love. i got the acceptance email in december, but i still didn’t have an offer for the education degree. another reason why i’m so discombobulated— i technically have an invitation, but it’s for the less important degree that would just be a money sink. do i go to uni anyway?? or just ignore this invitation and move on?

my state recently made education/teaching degrees free as a way of encouraging more teacher jobs. i learnt about this after i decided i wanted to pursue teaching, so it was just a fun lil bonus that i wouldn’t be adding to my student debt. apparently not, bc i didn’t think about how every teenager and their dog would apply for teaching degrees so they could get straight into uni without any debt. so, even tho i’m a graduate and i’m not relying on school scores, i was one in a million, likely just numbers on a page, and didn’t get in.

there could be other paths. i could start the BA and add the Edu degree later? i could reapply for mid year intake. i could… idk, most of what i could do requires emailing Monash and asking wtf, because i have no idea what’s actually possible and will need someone to lay it out for me.

still feels like i’ve run into a brick wall though. little bit shut down. more sad, not quite angry, but suddenly really spiteful for some reason— like “oh, you don’t want me? okay fuck you then, i won’t ever teach.” so stupid. just a bit fragile rn

[rapturousrendezvous]

**--His Domain, Your Expansion--**

Sukuna(True Form) x Reader (first person perspective/she/her) Explicit Tags: Triple penetration monsterfucking, rough, demeaning, degradation, teasing, finger and ass play, double cock Sukuna, multiple appendage use, submission, no plot just smut Words: 1348k

“Are you lost, little mouse?” 

The voice is in my head, louder than the drips of red liquid that splashed around my feet—the humid air that stings at my nose, pungent with the smell of death. I’m here, in his domain. 

My vision is limited, but I can sense a foreboding presence. He could be behind me, above, to the side, or nowhere at all. I was here for a proposal that would seal a pact between us, as the newly chosen vessel… 

“I’m not lost. I want to talk.” 

My voice cracks toward the end, and I feel a rush through my spine as a hot breath hits the back of my neck. 

“Entering without permission? I thought I made that clear the first time…” 

A sharp claw trails up my back; something slick dragging across the nape of my neck. I knew of his previous warning, but I was more than prepared to face the consequences of achieving my goal. 

“I understand. But I’ll make this quick. I want to form a pact if you continue using my body.” 

“Oh? Well, I can’t blame you for showing up. However, you must have forgotten my pet. We already have a pact.” 

My body freezes, my heart racing as I try to ease my anxiety. He was on to me, and I knew better than to test his memory. But I had to try, anyway. 

“How could I forget? I’d like to clarify.” 

A guttural purr echoes in the vast void of his domain. My body trembling as I wait for his answer. 

“I’m listening.” 

“I’d like to change one condition. The one that involves you taking over whenever you want. Last time you refused to switch for an hour. What I was doing was important.” 

I feel pressure against my belly, a massive hand, and another press against my form. 

“Was it that important?…” 

He pauses before hissing.

“Last time I checked, touching yourself is leisure.” Damn him. True, it wasn’t as if I were in the middle of a mission, or even fighting a cursed spirit. Knowing that denying me of the only time to myself, for an entire hour as a punishment, was cruel. I avoided this situation, but it was too much. If I couldn’t fuck other people with knowing he could switch at any moment, then why couldn’t I fuck myself? “You’re right, but I-” My head snaps back, my eyes now met with several red pupils staring back at me. A wide, toothy grin spreads across his two faces with vigor. “I know why you’re here; I can smell the stench of desire from your dirty cunt.” Two of his massive arms hoist my hips into the air, spreading my legs apart as he keeps me focused on his gaze. I feel the fabric of my panties become soaked with thick saliva, his long and invading tongue that extended from his belly; teasing my sex as my shoulders pressed against his chest. “Say it. And don’t lie to me.” I was powerless against him, my legs trembling as the continued flicks against my throbbing lips and clit dared me to test his words. It was time to be honest. “I want to get off. I haven’t been able to since you interrupted me!” These words flow out of frustration, watching his expression change in an instant from amused to devious. I’m spread wider, my skirt being torn away to expose my hips; and what he was doing to me. The tip of his tongue pulled down my panties, the flimsy material stretching and ripping as it passed between my thighs. I try to move my head to take a peek, but his grip on my hair has me locked in position. “Out of all the vessels I’ve chosen, you, my filthy little pet, are the most intriguing.” He flips my body- my arms and head dangles as he supports my waist. My backside spreads, facing him and showing him my wet and pulsing holes. He hums in approval, the textured tongue from his mouth giving me a quick taste as his lips enclose my clit. I do nothing but a whimper, my ankles hitting against something hard and fleshy. “Since you were honest, I’ll be nice. But trying to trick me regardless is a means of punishment. I’ll let you choose. You can either leave without release, no conditions changed, or…” He lowers my body to match up with his waist, two tips pressing against me. One against my ass and one against my entrance. I feel two fingers reach over against my cheek, tapping my face to signal for me to open my mouth. 

“...I fuck you so hard you won’t need to touch yourself anymore. That will solve everything, hm?” I try to speak, but I’m interrupted by his thick fingers plunging into my mouth, exploring my tongue and cheeks. He thrusts up, making sure the cock that lines up with my pussy goes in a fourth of the way first while smacking my ass with the second. I know he’s grinning, by the sound of his groan through clenched teeth. Why would I say no to him? It’s what I came here for in the beginning. I relax my body and reach up to tap his wrist.

“Okay…you win…Sukuna-”

As we meet the nonverbal agreement, my eyes cross when I feel myself stretch around his thick cock. He’s quick to bottom out, the tip slamming against my cervix in only what I could imagine was just a third or less of him filling me. His other cock is free, stimulating my other hole by rubbing warm and slick pre-cum. He continued to keep my mouth busy, his fingers darting and playing about, the claws gliding against my teeth with a pleasant tingle. If I had any other entrances to occupy, I’m sure he’d find a use for them, too.

His pace picks up without warning, though it seems to be a response to my body. My walls twitched, sucked him in more and more with each thrust. His ghastly laugh pierced my ears, and the hands that gripped my waist tightened as my body flopped like a rag-doll in his embrace. It was no surprise that I was close to coming, but I knew he wouldn’t allow me to release so early on. 

“Your tight, wet cunt is swallowing me up. How desperate were you for me, my pet?”

Unable to answer, my tongue flops around his fingers as a failed attempt to speak. He chuckles and removes the digits as I drool down my chin.

“I…always…want you…don’t…stop…”

His fingers shove back, silencing me once more, and then he leans over to whisper in my ear. The position allows for him to enter my ass, a muffled groan escaping my throat as I become fully to capacity.

“I won’t stop until you’re broken, and I’m satisfied. That being said, you could be here for eternity…coming over and over, even if I don’t fuck you.”

Tears of pleasure stream down my face as he continues thrusting roughly; the grisly slaps of flesh and squelching of juices that complement the grunts and growls of the powerful demonic spirit. I could feel the sharp tips of his claws dig into my waist, breaking the skin with a roar that shook the scattered skulls and bones of our surroundings.

“Do it, you fucking slut. I can feel how close you are. How tight and how hot your body is. I want to hear how pathetic you sound when you come…”

I couldn't think. I just screamed as he forced my mouth open. It hurt to breathe. My stomach felt like it slammed into my chest with the last thrust, my orgasm hitting like a powerful wave. Close to passing out, I hear his deep cackle; the glint of his irises looking over me.

“Blacking out on me already? I want to keep playing with you…see how much your body bends and stretches. This is your punishment, my filthy whore of a vessel.” 

[purereflectionsworld]

Here’s a snippet from an Aleida fic I’m working on, which I hope to post on AO3 once I’ve completed a few chapters. The goal is to fill in the gaps in her relationship with Margo, and Margo’s importance to her family, in that space between Seasons 2 to 3. This excerpt’s likely to be in Chapter 3, and is set in 1984. In which Aleida finds herself on a special first date, reminisces about Apollo-Soyuz, and realizes that Margo and Sergei’s relationship *might* not be as strictly professional as she’s assumed.

___

“So you’re one of the good Mexicans,” she says after he tells her about moving to Texas with his parents and brother when he was five - a perfectly uneventful journey in broad daylight - and her words come out about five shades more sarcastic than she’d intended.

He doesn’t smile. In fact, he’s looking at her very seriously. “The only bad Mexicans in my book are the ones who celebrate Cinco de Mayo, unless they’re actually from Puebla.”

She raises her eyebrows at him. She knows what a lot of the white collar Mexicans in Texas think of her kind. There’s a reason she’s never dated one of them before.

He sighs. “I will acknowledge that I’ve met a lot of Mexicans in my family’s circle here who don’t think like I do. Lot of them speak progressively, then treat my undocumented friends like shit. I’ve had to cut those people out of my life.” He meets her gaze, and her stomach flips over a little bit. “My ex-girlfriend, for one.” 

She doesn’t say anything for a little while. Then, quietly, she tells him about Mama’s grave in Parras de la Fuente, and the night that Americans landed on the moon. About Papa, and homework sessions in the viewing gallery, and tutoring sessions with the first woman in Mission Control, and the worst phone call of her life.

She doesn’t tell him that she used to be homeless, and was once shot at, and struggled to hold down a job, and dumped her ex unceremoniously the day he helped her get this one. That she’s still living in a trailer park and likely won’t be able to move out until she gets the double promotion Margo has been heavily hinting at. But as he reaches across the table to squeeze her hand, briefly, before clearing his throat awkwardly and turning his attention back to opening his beer, she thinks that maybe she could tell him, someday. 

He opens the bottle, takes a swig, and looks back at her. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” she says, giving him a little smile, so he knows it’s okay for him to talk again.

“So did you make it to the Kennedy School?”

“Yes, I did both tracks.”

“You know,” he says, smiling back at her, “I was waitlisted for one of the math tracks myself. Must have been ten years ago, too. If I’d spent a little more time studying, and a little less time DJing in my parents’ basement, we might have met. Which one did you do?”

It turns out that he currently teaches a lot of the advanced math she learned at the Kennedy School, so the conversation flows effortlessly back and forth between them for several minutes. He’s genuinely fascinated by all the ways she applies the concepts to design space shuttles, and satisfyingly incredulous that she works with idiots 10 years her senior who can’t keep up with her work.

“And your father?” he finally asks, gently, after the math banter reaches a comfortable lull. 

“Still in Parras. I’m working on it,” she adds defiantly, because his gaze is shifting to something like tenderness, and she doesn’t want his sympathy. “Now that I’m a U.S. citizen, I’m hoping to sponsor him officially. My boss is trying to help, and she’s well-connected, so we’ll see.”

“You’re a citizen already?” he says, eyes widening. “Aleida, that’s amazing! I’ve heard it’s an uphill climb out of the amnesty program. Sounds like you’re working on some high profile stuff so I figured you might be an LPR by now, but…”

“I got fast tracked as a one-off,” she says, and suddenly as she looks back at him and sees the spark of wonder in his eyes, she feels a twinge of happiness about it that she didn’t feel in Margo’s office when Ellen broke the news, or even on the phone with Papa afterward. “The NASA administrator’s in Reagan’s cabinet, and she got him to approve it personally. For ‘important contributions to national security.’”

“What mission?” he says almost in a whisper, enthralled. “You able to tell me?”

She smiles, takes a breath. It’s not a secret, but somehow she’s never talked about it outside of NASA and her calls to Papa. “Apollo-Soyuz.”

“Holy shit,” he breathes, and she feels a warm rush at his recognition. She’s sure he remembers exactly where he was when the sirens went off. “What did you do?”

“I came up with an important part of the docking mechanism. Stayed on the Mission Control floor with the team when most of the country went to the bomb shelters. And -“ She closes her eyes involuntarily, recalls that soaring feeling. “They let me give the order to the astronauts on the CAPCOM. I’ll never forget it. Apollo, Houston. You are go for docking.”

She opens her eyes, and swallows hard, because he’s exhaling, sitting all the way back in his chair, just staring at her with an intense mix of shock and admiration and pride. Pride that she realizes she only ever hears these days in Papa’s voice on the staticky phone line, and sees in Margo’s eyes, sometimes, framed by dark red strands of hair, in that brief flash after Aleida solves a particularly complex problem. 

*

“Okay,” he says twenty minutes later, taking another swig of beer, “so what I’m hearing is, you crashed your boss’ date with her Soviet counterpart the day you came up with the docking mechanism fix.”

“What? No, it wasn’t a date,” she laughs. “No way. You haven’t met Margo. If you had, you wouldn’t be saying that.”

“You said they were both dressed up kind of fancy, and that he was drunk when he complimented your work ethic. Oh, and that your friend Bill said the first Apollo-Soyuz meeting went so badly that your boss made an awkward sex joke by mistake and that the Soviet guy responded with a purposeful one. Did I hear all that right?”

She pauses, cocks her head. “Okay, I can see how you got that impression.”

“I rest my case,” Victor says, setting his empty bottle down with a grin.

[inawickedlittletown]

You Can Find Me Where the Skies are Blue (BuckTommy fic) - 4/7

Summary:

Soulmates are rare. So rare that it's actually incredible that Buck has two soulmate couples in his life. Statistics tell him it's very unlikely for him to meet his soulmate. Of course, then he meets Tommy. Too bad it happens at the worst possible moment.

Canon compliant soulmate AU where Buck is still a mess and Tommy is still very understanding.

Words: 4,716

Ao3

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

-

Part Four

Eddie’s Chevelle was gorgeous. Old cars just had something about them that gave them so much more character than anything more modern. She was in good condition, too, had probably spent little time out in the sun or other weather. Tommy was more than a little impressed. 

He had Eddie drive her into the garage and right onto the lift even if he didn’t intend to lift her up just yet. Instead, he opened the hood. Eddie joined him. 

“Car’s in great condition,” Tommy said. 

“My Abuela kept it mostly in the garage with a cover. It actually belonged to my Abuelo and she couldn’t get rid of it. But once she decided to move back to Texas, she figured it was time and passed it to me.” 

“I’m gonna take a quick look,” Tommy said. “See if I find anything that needs work.”

“Sure,” Eddie said, and when Tommy looked away from the car found that Eddie had started to wander. 

Tommy didn’t mind. His garage doubled as his home gym and he was sure that a guy like Eddie might appreciate his set up from his mats to the bench press and his weights to the punching bag that Tommy had added most recently. 

“I gotta say, you really got a nice set up here,” Eddie said, returning to where Tommy was tinkering with the car. “I’ve always wanted to do something at my place but I really don’t have the space.”

Eddie wasn’t wrong that the Chevelle needed a little bit of a tune up, but it really was in good condition. Whatever Eddie had been doing, he’d been keeping up with the maintenance. 

“I got kind of tired of going to an actual gym,” Tommy said. “Between this and what we have at work I get all the exercise I need. Of course, there’s no machine or punching bag that can take the place of a real person for sparring.” 

That seemed to catch Eddie’s interest. “Wait, do you do MMA?” 

“Muay Thai,” Tommy supplied. 

Eddie grinned at him. “I think you just found a sparring partner.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Absolutely,” Eddie said. 

Tommy felt his excitement too. 

By the time that Eddie left, his car’s engine sounded better than it had when it arrived and Tommy was left behind just a little bit sweatier with the satisfaction of having taken Eddie down. The singular thing that brought him down was knowing that Evan had yet to answer his text. 

Tommy didn’t want to be pushy. He didn’t want to overwhelm Evan. He figured he’d give him until the start of his shift and then text him again. If that failed, then there was always Wednesday night. 

Before Eddie left, Tommy had made a point of inviting him out to the bar for karaoke night. He had also made a point of insisting that Eddie invite Hen and Chim and of course Evan and even Bobby if Bobby could be persuaded to show up. Significant others welcome too. It’d be nice to see everyone again of course, but his real goal was Evan. In that setting, Tommy would find some way to get him off to the side and then they could really talk or make plans to talk. Whatever worked, The point was seeing him again and Tommy was not above making it happen in a roundabout way. 

Eddie had been happy to agree and he’d also gotten Tommy to agree to go with him to a pick up basketball game that some firefighters had put together. Tommy figured it’d be fun. 

After a shower to wash off the sweat, Tommy finally dealt with Lucy, calling her because that seemed a lot easier. 

She picked up after one ring. “Evan Buckley,” she said. 

“Yeah. Evan Buckley.”

Lucy laughed. “I’m actually…the more I’ve thought about it the more I kinda see it. I just had no idea Buck swung that way. Not that it ever came up. He had a girlfriend when I worked with him. That chick that wrote that book about firefighters that kinda blew up for a minute.” 

Tommy could picture the book in his mind. He remembered it because it had been literally everywhere. Someone had even brought a few copies into Harbor. There was still some kind of ongoing legal battle about it from LAFD’s end which was kinda hilarious. 

“He dated that woman?” Tommy asked. 

“Yeah…I know,” Lucy said. “I don’t think even he liked her very much. I mean…he kinda cheated on her.” 

“And you know this how?” Tommy asked. His heart was racing. 

“Because on the night I met Buck we got really drunk of tequila and maybe we got a bit flirty and he never told me he had a girlfriend and I kissed him. I wanted…well, I wanted you to know. We never really talked about it and it never happened again.” 

“Did you want it to?” 

Lucy let out a sigh. “Yes. No. He’s hot, can you blame me? The point is he never pursued it and I backed off. And we were really drunk. And now he’s your soulmate.” 

“And he’s straight,” Tommy said. “Might mean you still have a shot.” He hated the words even as he said them. 

Maybe it was a result of being deep in the closet and not getting to experience any real firsts until his late twenties — and even then it hadn’t been out in the open — but Tommy had never gotten good at telling when someone was queer unless they were being very loud about it. He’d always been a little shocked when approached by a guy that clocked him because Tommy didn’t think he ever really gave that vibe. So, he really had no idea when it came to Evan. Except that he was his soulmate. 

“You don’t know that,” Lucy said. “Just because he’s only been with women in the past…”

“Soulmates are not always romantic,” Tommy said. 

“You don’t know that,” Lucy said. 

“Lucy,” Tommy said. “That’s…no, just look at the numbers. There are plenty of platonic soulmates. If that is what Evan and I are then that’s fine too. I’ve been realizing lately just how lonely I really am.” 

It was true. Between not having anyone to really tell about finding his soulmate and finding so much enjoyment in hanging out with Eddie and the way that he did feel a little bit like he’d missed out on something when he left the 118, Tommy had realized that he had sort of settled for being on his own. It wasn’t that he hated it, but it did get lonely. He knew Evan would change that — they were soulmates after all — it was just that Tommy didn’t want to put all of that on Evan. The pressure of meaning absolutely everything. 

“However this turns out,” Lucy said, “I got your back, Kinard.” 

—

Buck spent the first hour on shift trying his hardest to keep from asking Eddie about how the night before had gone with Tommy. He’d seen the text from Tommy when he woke up that morning, had felt warm reading it and realizing that Tommy really was interested in getting to know him and yet he hadn’t known what to text back. As rude as it felt to just leave it, he figured he would respond sometime during the day and that Tommy would just have to wait. Maybe it was a little bit petty too, but Buck didn’t care. 

When he saw Eddie in the locker room he almost asked then, but held himself back. He was grateful to Ravi asking Chim questions about the wedding. It had also kept Hen from making any comments, though Buck had caught her making eyes at him a few times once they were all up on the loft like she was trying to communicate to Buck that they should talk. 

When he couldn’t hold it in any longer, they were on a call. It was only him, Eddie, and Ravi because Hen and Chim had gone as an additional RA to another scene. It felt like the right time and place to bring it up. 

“Uh. Hey, you never said. How was Vegas?” Buck ventured to ask. 

“Quick trip,” Eddie said as if it was the type of thing that he did normally when Buck knew for a fact it wasn’t.

“I’ll bet. How long does it take to chopper there?” 

“One hour,” Eddie said.

“You took a chopper to Vegas?” Ravi asked. 

“And how was the fight?” Buck asked, ignoring Ravi. 

“Fight was okay. Seats were amazing. Tommy’s buddies with the promoter so we were ringside. Felt like I was the one throwing the punches.” 

Maybe it would have been fun to be there, but it really wasn’t Buck’s thing. He didn’t see the appeal to watching two people try to pummel each other. 

“Who’s Tommy?” he heard Ravi ask. 

My soulmate, Buck wanted to answer. He held it in. He felt a bit foolish maybe or embarrassed that he hadn’t told Eddie. Not that they’d had any time to talk lately. He didn’t want to just drop the information while walking into a restaurant for a call that dispatch hadn’t been sure wasn’t a prank. 

As it turned out, it wasn’t a prank. They called it in to dispatch even though the restaurant manager had already called the police. Ravi had gone down there and Buck wanted to continue the conversation. 

“I’m not surprised you had a great time in Vegas,” Buck ventured. “You and Tommy have a lot of things in common. Both in the Army. Both like watching half naked men pummel each other.”

As he listed it, it also dawned on him that he and Tommy didn’t have those things in common and maybe not even other things. He knew, logically, that people could have different interests. Buck and Eddie were good friends and they weren’t into the same things. Chim and Maddie had their own hobbies too. And though he could have very long discussions about cosmic things revolving black holes and time dilation and why exactly Pluto wasn’t a planet with Karen, Hen tended to just tune them out. Still, it left something of a bad taste in his mouth to know that Eddie and Tommy had bonded that much when he hadn’t even gotten a chance. 

“Tommy’s pretty cool,” Eddie said. “It’s been a while since I met someone who can go toe to toe with me in muay thai.” 

That caught Buck short. How many times had Eddie hung out with Tommy? They did all meet the same night right? He wasn’t crazy to feel like things weren’t adding up. He hated the way that it twisted at his gut, how it made him feel uncomfortable. 

“Uh, you guys went to muay thai together?” 

“He’s got a set up in his garage. We sparred a bit when I took the Chevelle over.” 

“You…you took the Chevelle over?” Buck asked and he hoped his voice didn’t give away his feelings. 

Eddie had even gone over to Tommy’s? When had Eddie even had the time? It had barely been a whole week since they met Tommy. 

“Yeah, he’s got a car lift. The guy really knows his engines. You should hear that thing purr now.” 

Buck had seen the Chevelle all of twice since Eddie took custody of it. It was a beautiful car, well preserved for its age. He’d sat in the passenger seat while Eddie drove them around and while he’d appreciated the car, it hadn’t really held his interest. He’d never been much of a car guy. 

After his Jeep was flooded during the hurricane, he’d just gone through the process of replacing it through insurance. He hadn’t even thought about getting a different car. He only really had a Jeep in the first place since Maddie had given him her Jeep as a way to escape their parents. That car had gotten him pretty far until Buck sold it and used the money to travel down to South America. When he moved back and needed a car, he’d just figured a Jeep would do and he’d stuck to that ever since. 

They checked in with Ravi, and Buck was so glad that he wasn’t the one down there, though maybe it would have been preferable to talking to Eddie about Tommy. 

“Well, listen, I — I think it’s great,” Buck said and maybe it was. He did want his best friend and his soulmate to get along. “You know, you can’t have enough friends right?” 

“Right,” Eddie said. “You know, it’s like that thing when you meet somebody and you just click. You know what I mean? Kinda like the soulmate thing. You meet someone and you just know you want them in your life or however it is that works.”

Buck felt like his stomach give a turn. 

“I do,” Buck said. “I really do.” 

The feeling in his stomach, the churning and twisting intensified. He knew exactly what it felt like, the instant connection that Eddie was talking about and it was so much more than the bond between two people that had similar hobbies. It didn’t change that Buck downright hated it. How dare Eddie just swoop in and become more interesting to Buck’s own soulmate? 

“So, when do you think you’ll see him again?” Buck ventured to ask, hoping that Eddie didn’t already have plans with Tommy. 

“He’s got this Karaoke bar trivia thing on Wednesday,” Eddie said. 

Buck saw an opening. He was ready to invite himself along. The words were ready, but Eddie spoke first. 

“Hey, what are you doing Wednesday?” Eddie asked and Buck felt hopeful because if Eddie invited him along then he and Tommy could possibly get some time to talk. It’d be perfect. 

“Me? Uh, yeah, no I’m free. Totally free Wednesday.” 

“Do you think you could watch Christopher for me?” 

Disappointment hit him almost exactly like the guy they were rescuing had been hit. A car driving too fast with a driver too irresponsible to accept consequences. Eddie was the driver and he’d just swept Buck into a sewer. When he agreed, it felt like resignation. This was Buck’s role…the babysitter while Eddie went out and had fun with Buck’s very own soulmate. He knew that if he said something about Tommy being his soulmate that Eddie would back off, but Buck didn’t want that. He didn’t want to get to Tommy because Eddie canceled their plans not to mention that he didn’t want to tell Eddie this way. 

When they got back to the 118, Buck didn’t stick around to talk to Eddie. He found Bobby cooking and after the weeks where he’d been gone on that cruise, it was a very welcome sight. This was where Bobby belonged. 

“You alright, Buck?” Bobby asked. 

Of course he could tell that something was up. It was something of Bobby’s superpower. One of the things that made him an amazing Captain and maybe what had drawn Buck to open up to him. 

“What do you think about soulmates?” Buck asked. 

“Soulmates,” Bobby said. “I guess it isn’t something we’ve ever discussed. What brings this on?” 

“Just…I guess I was thinking about it. Was, uh, wondering what you thought about it.”

“Is this another one of your late night research things?” Bobby asked with an amused smile. 

Buck shrugged. “I guess it’s just interesting…like the idea that two people could ever just fit that well together. I was reading about Plato’s Symposium because that’s one of the earliest things we have about explaining it even though there’s so many records that were kept about people meeting their soulmates. It’s why there can even be a claim about how fewer soulmate meetings there are. In the Symposium, Aristophane explains love and soulmates like the gods splitting souls in half as a punishment for humanity. So we walk around trying to find the other half of our souls to then finally become complete.”

“That’s interesting,” Bobby said. “It’s a little mythical. A story.” 

“Well, yeah,” Buck said, “but soulmates are real even if only a portion of the population ever manages to find their soulmates.”

Bobby nodded, thoughtfully. “There are stories within every culture and within many religions. Some people put more meaning to it, but I don’t think not being soulmates with someone devalues that relationship.”

“I know,” Buck said. “You and Athena…it’s amazing.”

“It isn’t perfect,” Bobby said. “All relationships need work. Even when you are soulmates. What else did you find?” 

Research was what he did when he was worrying about something. Information was everything to Buck. He loved talking about the things he found and everyone at the 118 had been subjected to Buck’s info dumps. Sometimes, if relevant, he could even bring things up during calls. 

“Well, I started to look at platonic soulmates,” Buck said. 

Bobby looked a bit taken aback. “Platonic soulmates,” he repeated. 

“Yeah,” Buck said, letting out a nervous breath. “Most of them are same sex soulmates. Which I think is a bit of historical erasure to keep everything heterosexual. But I guess it does happen. There are a few these days that say they’re platonic…I just wondered about it like how if you find your soulmate, there is no way any other relationship could ever mean as much, could it?” 

Bobby smiled at him. “I think every friendship and every relationship is different for everyone, Buck. We each have a lot of love to give.”

“Yeah,” Buck said. 

“I guess think about it like this,” Bobby said, “Chimney and Maddie are soulmates and things haven’t been perfect for them. They love each other. They also both love Jee and the love they each hold for their daughter is not diminished because they are soulmates. So yes, maybe it is possible that someone can find their soulmate and still lead a romantic relationship with someone else.”

Buck hadn’t thought about it that way. He realized it was different. A parent’s love was different, but Bobby did have a point. Somehow he still felt just a little strange at the thought that Tommy could be his soulmate and still have a girlfriend or a wife…that Buck could do the same. Something about it felt wrong, he just had no idea why. 

“Why is it you’re worrying about this?” Bobby asked. 

Bobby really did know him too well. It wasn’t that Buck hadn’t intended to tell Bobby, it was that he was still trying to figure it all out for himself. But maybe that was part of the problem, Buck needed to communicate more. 

“I met my soulmate, Bobby,” Buck said. 

“Buck, that’s great,” Bobby said. 

“I don’t know,” Buck said. “I thought so at first, but I just…it’s a dude and I mean, this has to be platonic, right? I’m not…I love women. Not that it even matters maybe because he’s busy hanging out with someone else.” 

“Ah,” Bobby said. “It’s still a good thing, Buck. You found your soulmate…whatever that looks like for the two of you, I’m happy for you.” 

“Thanks, Bobby. I just hate not knowing.” 

“Not knowing?” 

“We’ve barely talked. I just want…I guess I just want all of this to be figured out already.” 

Bobby chuckled. “Buck, you know by now that nothing works like that.” 

Buck sighed. He dropped his head. “This should be the easy thing, though, shouldn’t it be?” 

“Eventually it might very well be.” 

Buck wanted nothing more than to hold onto that. 

—

Wednesday night, Tommy took a little longer than usual getting ready. He went through a few different shirts until finally settling on a blue henley, threw on a brown leather jacket over it and touched up his hair. He hoped he didn’t look like he was trying too hard. It was just that things hadn’t exactly gone right the first time he and Evan got together after their first meeting. His fault entirely. Looking back, Tommy should have pushed that meeting to a day when he didn’t already have plans even if it meant waiting a little longer to see him.  

Eddie had never confirmed whether Evan was coming, but when they texted earlier, Tommy had reiterated that Eddie should invite Evan, Hen, and Chim along. Eddie had only sent back a thumbs up, but Tommy was hopeful. After all, he had finally gotten a response from Evan. 

Evan: Thank you for the message. I hope we can get that beer soon whenever you’re not busy. 

Tommy took it to mean that maybe Evan was coming along with Eddie, but that he didn’t want to say it outright. So, he took a bit of extra time on his appearance and then he left for the bar a bit on the early side. He was excited, not nervous. 

Tommy had thought about inviting Lucy along, especially since she already knew everyone. Except that she would be a menace when it came to him and Evan and neither of them needed that. Hen knew about it, he had yet to text her back after her message of congratulations but maybe that was another reason to see her in person. Tommy was also pretty sure that Eddie had no idea. Since Chim hadn’t reached out, it also figured it was unlikely that he was aware. Tommy did find it a little curious that despite Eddie claiming to be Evan’s best friend, Evan hadn’t told him about finding his soulmate. 

Wednesday nights with the karaoke aspects meant that the bar was a little busier. The girl setting up the karaoke machine already had her sign up sheet out and a few people had signed up to sing. Tommy didn’t know if he would. He wasn’t exactly the best singer, but that wasn’t the point of karaoke and it had never stopped him in the past. It was just that…well, he didn’t want to make an ass of himself in front of Evan. 

Eddie arrived some fifteen minutes later, completely on his own. 

“Hey, man,” he said and they bumped fists before Eddie sat down. “Didn’t get a drink yet? I’ll get us a couple of beers.” 

“Uh, sure,” Tommy said and he didn’t pretend that he didn’t look towards the door to see if Evan would walk in. He perked up every time the door opened, but it wasn’t anyone from the 118. 

When Eddie got back, he had two bottles in hand and the waitress behind him brought over two shots of some yellow looking liquid. 

“Courage to get us singing,” Eddie said with a grin. 

After the waitress left they lifted the shot glasses and downed them in one. Whatever Eddie had picked, it was both sweet and very very alcoholic. Tommy coughed afterwards and he thought that Eddie’s eyes were watering. 

“What was that?” 

“No idea,” Eddie said. “It had a funny name.” 

Tommy laughed. “Next time, stick to vodka or rum.” 

“Not tequila?” 

“I can’t say I’m a fan of the aftermath.” 

Eddie laughed. 

Tommy gave it some time. Eddie started telling him about the call they’d had the day before with a guy needing to be rescued from the sewer. Tommy had missed the weird and crazy things that you got called to as a firefighter or paramedic. As a pilot, he spent more time flying than doing any of the rescuing and sometimes he did miss being part of the action instead of just being a part of the transport. 

“Hey, is anyone else coming?” Tommy asked when enough time had gone by. 

“Oh. Hen and Karen are taking in a foster kid soon so they had a meeting with someone. Chim is busy with wedding planning.” 

“And what about Evan?” 

“Buck? Oh…he’s actually watching Christopher.” 

It took a moment for it to sink in. Eddie was taking a gulp of his drink and his attention was on the stage where the mic was being set up. Lights shone down in multiple colors. Any minute now they would start with the first on the list. There was a small crowd gathering over the folder that held the list of songs available. 

Evan wasn’t coming. 

Tommy was more than a little disappointed. 

Evan wasn’t coming because Eddie had him babysitting his kid. Tommy didn’t want to be there anymore. The whole night…it felt pointless. He’d gone through so many shirts for the possibility of seeing Evan and even though Eddie had never said he was coming, Tommy had sort of told himself that of course Evan would. He’d wanted to see Hen and Chim too, maybe not as much as Evan, but he had definitely wanted to see them. 

There was one other thing, though. Tommy knew he couldn’t blame Eddie…it was just that with the other day and the fight he had no idea what this might look like to Evan. 

“Did Evan know this was why he’s babysitting?” Tommy asked. “Us going out tonight?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “I mentioned it. He was happy to babysit. Didn’t have anything else going on.” 

Eddie was absolutely clueless. 

Evan’s text from earlier suddenly had an entirely different connotation and Tommy knew he had a choice. He could stay and hang out with Eddie and spend the whole night thinking about Evan…or he could fix it. 

“I really was looking forward to seeing everyone,” Tommy said. “That's why I suggested this in the first place.” 

“Oh,” Eddie said. 

“In fact, there is someone that I actually really do have to see tonight. Right now, in fact.” 

“What are you talking about?” Eddie asked. 

Tommy didn’t know how Evan would feel about it, but it was his truth to tell as well. So, he looked straight at Eddie. 

“I met my soulmate and I need to see him tonight.” 

“You met your soulmate,” Eddie said, awe in his voice. “That’s awesome. So why are you here right now? Hell, if I’d met my soulmate I wouldn’t be out with anyone else.” 

Tommy chuckled. “Because I was counting on him being here.”

“Him,” Eddie said and Tommy could see his mind trying to fixate that to what he knew about Tommy. 

“Yes. Is that a problem, Eddie?” 

“No,” Eddie said immediately. “No. Of course not. I just didn’t realize you were…gay? Bi?”

“Gay,” Tommy said. 

Eddie nodded. “Alright. Yeah, no problem with that.” 

Tommy sighed. He didn’t want to correct Eddie on what Tommy’s soulmate bond might be, but he did like how easily Eddie just took Tommy coming out to him. 

“So I need you to do me a favor, Eddie.” 

“Yeah, anything,” Eddie said. “Though I don’t know how I can help.” 

Tommy chuckled. “I need you to drive us to your house.”

“Tommy that—”

“I just need you to drive us or give me your address so I can take an uber there.” 

“But why do you need to go to my house?” 

Tommy just stared at him. Eddie raised his bottle to his lips and he was drinking when it seemed to start to click. Tommy didn’t have time for it, though. 

“We need to go to your house so you can stay with your kid and I can talk to Evan,” Tommy said

Eddie still didn’t seem to connect the dots. “Why would you need to talk to Buck?” 

“Maybe because Evan is my soulmate,” Tommy said. “And when I asked you to invite him and the others tonight it was so that I could talk to him. But now he’s babysitting and I’m hanging out with you. So I need to talk to Evan,” 

As Eddie finally came to the right conclusion. His mouth opening into an “oh” of surprise. 

“You see, I’ve kinda left him before to hang out with you so…”

“So you gotta talk to Buck,” Eddie said. 

Eddie took care of their tab and meanwhile two skinny girls had made it onto the stage as the first ones to take on a song. They were giggling nervously, clearly not drunk enough yet. He and Eddie walked out of the bar as the first notes were starting. 

“Wait,” Eddie said once they were in the parking lot. 

“Yes?” 

“But Buck isn’t gay,” Eddie said. 

Tommy could have face palmed. 

-

Part Five

[th3-0bjectivist]

Springin' Chip with a 24' page update!

Greetings, dear follower! th3-0bjectivist has appointed me, Chipper the Springer Spaniel, as the official page mascot and acting spokescanine of this blog moving forward. It sure is great to be here! And might I say, the range of my vernacular as a mere canine has increased something like 28000% in just the last few weeks thanks to the hard lessons I’ve endured so far. Late nights in front of an English dictionary, lots of treats, and tons of sleepless nights have transformed me into perhaps the only English-literate puppy that has ever existed on planet Earth. From this point forward, I plan to operate as an empathetic, humorous, and nurturing presence to all of those on Tumblr into 2024 and beyond!

If you wanna know a little more about me to start, so far in life, I enjoy 1. Voraciously sniffing all manner of ass and crotch (if you approach me, please just spread fully eagle for one full minute, it lets me know who you are without you saying a word) and getting my own ass/crotch sniffed! 2. Pissing indoors (preferably on carpets to create an overpowering urine-miasma that permeates the entire room) 3. Attempting to playfully bite th3-0bjectvist directly in the balls with my nasty, bacteria-laden, inverted Spaniel teeth on a weekly basis!!

My pal, th3-0 and I, have long discussed my potential nickname on this blog. It has run the gamut from… Chip the Dip, to Chipper the Dick, to Chip the Prick, to Chipper the Testicle-Destroyer. In particular, the phrases ‘Stop biting me’, and ‘Hey, A-hole, cut that biting shit out’, and ‘Hey, dickhead, stop trying to bite my fuckin’ balls!!’ have strongly resonated with me as a puppy. I’ve realized very early on; it is essential that I improve my behavior otherwise I’m going to be hard-up on quality treats. And that’s what this blog will be all about moving forward… gradual improvement! Luckily, I have the good fortune of being cute as all hell. So, we graciously settled on the tentative title Springin’ Chip to instead highlight the positive aspects of our collective spirits and aspirations moving forward. New year, new positive goals! Folks, just look at my pics! Check out my feathered-ears and adorable face! Do I not have the perfect mug to represent a proper renewal of this blog?? And mug I will! If you continue to follow th3-0bjectivist, you’re going to see me grow up slowly over the next few months and years! Anyways, onto a bit of business…

My new friend, th3-0, has instructed me to give you an official page announcement! He will be back soon (end of March) with new art and drawings, music and commentary, goofy-ass memes, and more! This year (2024) th3-0 will be putting an artistic focus on dimensionality and expression by doing lots of drawings of expressions on human faces! He will also attempt to make some paintings with a little more -- POP -- than in previous years by incorporating a liquid background behind a solid mass of brushwork. If you like music, and who doesn't (??), this year will be the year of the musical double-feature! That means every time you see music on this page moving forward, there will be TWO SONGS by the featured musician(s) to highlight the range of said musician(s). Also, it’s election year! Now, I don’t have the vote myself, but you’ll have me around as your comical, politically neutral, and stalwart companion while everybody else on Tumblr is being just about as polarizing as they can be without directly and openly supporting terrorist organizations on the left or right side of the political spectrum! It’s gonna be a great year with this dog n' this blog!

Alright, gettin’ sleepy over here… you guys can fuck off for now. MORE 0bjectivist! END OF MARCH! NEW ART!!! DOUBLE-FEATURE MUSIC SHOWCASES EVERY OTHER WEEK!!! MEMES AND GIFs!!! SNARKY-ASS COMMENTARY!!! AND MORE OF MY BALL-BITING ADORABLE ASS!!!

Best, Springin’ Chip

[peachy-panic]

To Steady Your Hand

Do No Harm, still early in the Sebastian Contract. 

WARNINGS: BBU/BBU-Adjacent, past surgery, lingering medical issues, nerve damage, maybe the closest I’ve come to some genuine moments of fluff (sprinkled with some pain)

Sebastian is going out on a limb. He can recognize that. But even after several weeks in the house, Jaime gives very little outward indication of what he genuinely enjoys. What he likes. In no particular order, he seems to derive joy from exactly three things: running outside, cooking with Sebastian, and cleaning. The last one makes Sebastian nervous, because it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to infer that he might be feigning some of that enthusiasm to fall into the role he thinks he’s here to fill. It does, however, seem to bring Jaime a sense of peace sometimes, so he tries not to interfere.

Still, it’s not enough. His goal was never to give Jaime a place to survive in stasis until the next bad thing comes along. He wants him to be happy here. He wants to make him feel like he has the space to be a person, and that means knowing what he likes. So when Sebastian finally catches a glimpse, he latches on with both hands.

They are in the checkout line at the drugstore when it happens.

It had been a precarious trip, both of them a little on edge after their first attempt at a store-based outing went to utter shit. Thankfully nothing of note happened, other than Jaime hovering a little closer than normal, his eyes scanning their surroundings every few seconds as if they were being hunted for sport. By the time they’re ready to pay, Sebastian is so eager to get them both in the safety of his car, he almost misses it: they way Jaime’s eyes catch on the end cap closest to the register and stay there.

Jaime, who has been flighty and anxious since stepping foot through the door, is suddenly engaged and… curious?

Sebastian does a double take, then follows his eye line. He doesn’t know what he expected, but a flutter of endeared surprise catches in his chest as he looks at the display of nail polish.  

After a brief, internal tug-of-war, he decides to sit on the information for now. Buying it now might draw attention to the fact that Sebastian caught him staring, and he doesn’t want to embarrass him or worse. So he pockets his change from the bored-looking cashier, grabs his bag, and they head home.

A few days later, on his way home from work, Sebastian swings by the store to pick up more lunch meat, fresh strawberries, and a bottle of Essie sky-blue nail polish.

He places it on the countertop as he’s unloading the bag. Jaime, who is perched in a barstool across from him, blinks down at it. He is quiet for a long time.

Sebastian does his best attempt at casual. “The color caught my eye.” He shrugs. “Have you ever painted your nails before?”

Color blossoms in Jaime’s cheeks, and Sebastian feels the first pang of doubt. Maybe this wasn’t the right move. Maybe it’s too soon after the pharmacy and he thinks Sebastian is calling him out. But Jaime doesn’t look away from the small bottle as he shakes his head, so Sebastian barrels forward.

“I used to do it sometimes. In college, mostly,” he rambles. “I wanted to before then, too. I tried it once, in high school, but my dad—” Oop. No. Nope. Go back. Abort mission. “Well. Anyway, I haven’t done it in years, and I saw this and thought… Maybe we could try? Together? If you want. Only if you want to.”

To his distress, Jaime frowns. “I…” he starts, then stops, looking down at his hands all of a sudden. He places one over the other, his fingers delicately hiding what Sebastian knows to be an incision scar. “I can’t promise I’ll be very good at it. My hand. Sometimes it’s hard, with… It’s not always very steady. I have trouble, sometimes.”

A rising dread creeps up on Sebastian, one he cannot will away. He swallows. “Jaime.” His voice comes out a whisper. “When did that start?”

He knows. He knows the answer, and he’s terrified of it, and he needs to hear him say it out loud, all at once.

Jaime ducks his head, drawing his shoulders up half and inch, and Sebastian knows he needs to tread carefully. Needs to pull himself back before he upsets him even more. But he needs to know.

“It doesn’t get in the way, mostly,” Jaime says in lieu of an answer. “I hardly notice it anymore.”

Almost definitely a lie.

Sebastian notices his own hands are shaking now, so he presses them flat against the countertop. He just needs to rip the bandaid off.

“Jaime. Was it after the surgery?”

The surgery.

A piss-poor fucking euphemism for the institutionalized, medically-sanctioned torture that it was.

The surgery that Sebastian himself performed on a patient who was strapped down and screaming to the point of unconsciousness.

The surgery he performs over and over in his nightmares.

Jaime gives him all the confirmation he needs when he says, “It’s not your fault.”

A surprised laugh sputters out of Sebastian, but it sounds more like a sob. Feels like it, too. Because of course Jaime would say that. Of course his first reaction is to show Sebastian undeserved grace. Of course his first instinct is to take care of Sebastian’s feelings first.

“Can you…” He swallows, trying to be professional. “Can you tell me what it feels like? Is it painful? Numb?”

“It almost never hurts,” he says quickly, like he’s dying to reassure him further. “It’s…” He runs his fingertip over the inside of his opposite index finger. “I can’t really feel this part anymore, but really, it only affects me when I’m working with small stuff. I just don’t know how precise my work would be with painting nails.”

Sebastian is still caught in his own private tunnel of horror. The way Jaime is speaking about it so casually only twists his insides tighter. He is living with permanent nerve damage from a scalpel that Sebastian wielded. He had volunteered—insisted—to be the one to perform the surgery under some misguided notion that he would somehow be sparing him further pain and dehumanization, but his inexperience or his nerves or Jaime’s rightful panic or… or something had caused him to slip and sever a nerve, and he didn’t even know.

How did he ever expect Jaime to trust him? Or even like him?

He doesn’t know how to make this right. He doesn’t know if it’s possible to even come close.

“Jaime, I—”

“I’d like to try,” Jaime says quietly, looking up at him through earnest eyes. “Painting our nails. If you still want me to. If you don’t mind that it's a little shaky.”

Sebastian blinks away the burn in his eyes. These aren’t his tears to cry, anyway. And if Jaime doesn’t want to talk about this now, as he very clearly does not, the last thing he should do is force it.

He smiles at him, and it’s only a little bit forced.

“I don’t mind at all.”

****

Jaime really does want to do a good job.

He is a little more than suspicious about where this idea sprouted from, but at least Sebastian is kind enough not to admit that he found Jaime looking at the store.

He doesn’t really know why it caught his eye in the first place. It’s not like he’s ever been overly into nails before. The only association he has is a distant memory, almost completely faded with time, of him and his mother at the kitchen table. It was summer, he’s pretty sure. He can remember the natural light coming in from the bay window and the faint scent of his mother’s favorite peppermint tea mixed with the sharp, clean smell of nail polish. He would watch her paint each hand, and she would sometimes offer to do his, but he could only even sit still long enough for one or two.

He blinks away the half-memory before it can take him, resettling himself in Sebastian’s living room. They’ve each taken one side of the coffee table, legs folded under them on the soft carpet. The little blue bottle and a box of tissues sits between them.

“So,” Sebastian says, drumming his fingertips on the wood. “Who wants to go first?”

This catches him off guard. Jaime studies him for a moment, making sure he’s come to the right conclusion before speaking it out loud. “You… want to paint mine, too?”

“Oh.” Sebastian’s eyebrows raise a fraction, as if he hadn’t realized it wasn’t obvious to both of them. “Only if you want to! I was thinking we could paint each other’s, but if you don’t want to, that’s totally fine, too. We don’t have to even do this at all. I can return this. Or just throw it away. I can dump it down the toilet and we can pretend this never happened.”

Jaime has lived with Sebastian long enough to start to recognize his nervous humor, and he’s fairly certain this is it. It’s strange, the feeling that he might be able to laugh at something his Keeper says, but he has to press his smile into the side of his hand to keep it contained.

“What?” Sebastian laughs, seeming genuinely relieved by his amusement. He picks up the bottle, waving it between them. “You think I won’t go pour this down the drain right now? Because I will.”

Jaime nods, humoring him. “I believe you,” he says. “I… Yes. You can paint mine, if you want to.”

Sebastian’s smile falters, just a little. “You’re sure? You really don’t have to do it just for me.”

Jaime folds his fingers over his palm, studying the pink-pale color under his nails. Then he nods. “I want to try.”

Jaime offers to go first. He figures if he can study Sebastian’s technique, he might be able to emulate it when it’s his turn and do a better job. He watches as he shakes the bottle, a small clicking sound rattling around the bottle. Sebastian starts to reach for him but stops before he comes close to touching Jaime’s hand.

He looks up at him, smiling apologetically. “Is it alright if I touch you? Just here,” he says, tapping the table near Jaime’s fingers. “Just to steady your hand?”

When Jaime takes a moment to respond—not out of any real hesitation, but perhaps caught off guard by the request for permission—Sebastian pulls his fingers back an inch.

“You can say no. We’ll make it work either way.”

Jaime clears his throat, suddenly thick with saliva. “I think it’s okay.” It’s Sebastian who hesitates this time, so Jaime tries again, more confidently. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“Yeah?”

Jaime nods.

“Okay.” Slowly, slow enough to broadcast his movements, Sebastian slips two fingers under Jaime’s, pulling his hand toward his side of the table. He checks in with a glance at least twice before he gets to work.

And this is… Jaime doesn’t know what it is. Sebastian’s skin is warm and soft under his, his touch so gentle and undemanding that he doesn’t know what to do with it. It’s not the first time Sebastian has touched him. A slew of memories from the clinic—most of which he would rather not revisit—come to mind. He had always been kind, both in spirit and in touch, but something about the tenderness he is showing Jaime now knocks him off balance.

He watches, a bit hypnotically, as his long fingers drag the brush over each nail, leaving him spotted in blue. Small flecks smudge onto his cuticles and the skin around his nails, but it still looks good. The color was a good choice, he thinks.

“Still okay?” Sebastian asks when he finishes the first hand.

Jaime nods and surrenders his other hand easily. Sebastian’s eyes only linger on his scar for a second or two before he sets his focus on the job at hand.

“I was thinking,” Sebastian says after a stretch of quiet, “maybe we can set you up with a physical therapist. Someone who… well, who works with…”

“Companions,” Jaime offers.

He winces. “Yes. Under the table, though. Someone who would treat you kindly. That would be non-negotiable.” Jaime looks up at him and Sebastian looks up from his work long enough to scan his expression. “Would that be something you’re interested in?”

“For my hand,” Jaime surmises. Sebastian nods. “You don’t have to do that for me.”

“Well, the matter of my responsibility to you as a human, a doctor, and the person whose name is on your contract is a whole other debate.” He flashes a smile that looks more like a grimace. “But all that aside, it wouldn’t be out of obligation. It would be because I genuinely want to help you. And this might be a real way I could do that.”

A few seconds pass. There is a strange sensation in Jaime’s chest, like stretching a muscle he hasn’t used in a long time. His first instinct is a collection of pre-conditioned responses that were hammered into him in training—polite agreement, smooth avoidance, gratitude. None of them feel right at this moment, and the indecision chokes him up.

Sebastian saves him by speaking again. He drops his freshly painted pinky finger and meets his eyes. “You know, Jaime,” he says, “I think maybe I haven’t done a good enough job of making that clear to you.” In anyone else’s voice, in any other inflection, the words might have set him on edge. The words don’t scare him now.

“Making what clear?”

“That I really want to help you.”

“You have,” Jaime is quick to assure him.

“No, but—” Sebastian pauses, breathes. “I want to do more than the bare minimum. You deserve more than the basic necessities it takes to survive. I know this is… I mean, I can’t even really imagine what it’s like for you to try and talk about this, so we don’t have to linger. But what happened to you? What keeps happening to you? You don’t deserve to live like this, Jaime. There is nothing about you that makes you any less of a person.”

Jaime knows, somewhere buried deep beneath layers of toxic conditioning and learned behaviors, that there is truth in what Sebastian is saying. He believed that once. But Jaime knows now that things aren’t so simple; that justice and righteousness are only as fair as the systems that uphold them. And in the eyes of this governing body, this law, this society, he is less. And ultimately, one man’s objection to that isn’t enough to change anything.

But maybe Jaime can let it be enough for this moment. Maybe he can let it be enough for him, just for a little while.

“You know someone?” Jaime asks tentatively. “A physical therapist?”

“I could find someone,” Sebastian promises. “There are people out there. Networks of them who feel the same way I do. I know people who—” He stops suddenly, the tips of his ears going a little pink. “Well. Anyway, yes I could find someone. You would have a say in it, too. I wouldn’t force you to see anyone you weren’t completely comfortable with.”

Jaime’s answering silence is heavy with ingratitude, he knows it is, but his head is spinning. This privilege that would have, should have, once been a right doesn’t feel like it belongs to him or that it ever could. Despite all that Sebastian has done to prove otherwise, the smallest part of him still bellows out in warning: Lie, lie, lie, trap, trap, trap. But it isn’t either of those things. Jaime knows it isn’t, deep down.

“You don’t need to answer me now,” Sebastian assures him softly before he can respond, and Jaime feels a little bit relieved and a little bit like a failure. “In fact, we can let this drop completely. This—” he waves the tiny paintbrush between them “—is meant to be fun. But… You know, just something to think about. Yeah?”

Once again, Jaime substitutes a nod where his words fail him, and they ease back into the task at hand.

When it comes time to paint Sebastian’s nails, Jaime does an okay job. Neither of them mention the slight shakiness in his grip or the way his precision sometimes veers off course. When he goes out of line, Sebastian just hands him a tissue, he wipes the polish from his skin, and they move on.

He mirrors the position that Sebastian took with him, sliding two fingers under his. As he works, he can’t help but study the hands in front of him. There is a faint pinkish-white to the flesh around his nails, and slivers of peeled skin beside his cuticles. Jaime thinks about the times he’s seen him biting his nails, usually when he is nervous. He always seems to be a little bit nervous around him.

He also notices a stillness in him that can’t be anything but intentional. The way every movement is slow and careful, and the way he keeps his contact overly gentle, convincing Jaime, reminding him, over and over, that his hands are not to be feared.

When they each have two coats of sky-blue at the tips of their fingers, they stay on the floor but lean back against the couch, side by side.

“Can I take a picture?”

Jaime blinks at him. “Of… me?” He doesn’t remember the last time anyone asked him that. He’s had photos taken in the last couple of years, of course, but always in much different contexts, and never with his permission.

Sebastian looks a little sheepish, pulling out his phone. “Of our hands. Would that be okay?”

“Oh,” he breathes. “Sure.”

They hold their hands out in front of them, close enough to fit into frame but not enough to touch, and Sebastian snaps the photo. Jaime doesn’t ask to look at it, but Sebastian shows him anyway.

A week later, when Jaime spots a four-by-four print pinned to the refrigerator with a smiley-face magnet, he finds himself smiling right back.

**

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[aquietwritingcorner]

Not Allowed to Die

Title: Not Allowed to Die Day: Febuwhump 2024, Day 29 Prompt: Not Allowed to Die  Fandom:  TMNT 2003 Word Count: 2484  Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating:  T Characters: Michelangelo, Donatello, Raphael, Leonardo Warning: NA Summary: It was his responsibility. It was Mike’s responsibility to look after his little brother while they were out. But he’d been irresponsible, and now he was running, his thirteen-year-old brother held tightly to him, and repeating that Donnie wasn’t allowed to die.    Notes:  Part of the Little Don AU, an AU I’ve had forming in my head where, during a crisis with the Time Scepter, Don sacrificed himself to save everything. Instead of it killing him, though, it turned him into a baby, and his family has needed to raise him all over again.  ff.net || AO3

________________________

Not Allowed to Die

Mike ran as fast as he could, his thirteen-year-old brother held tightly to his chest. One hand was under his brother, supporting him, while the other wrapped around his shell and held his head to Mikey’s shoulder, keeping it from bouncing too much as the older turtle ran.

Donnie didn’t return the grasp at all.

In fact, his brother was limp and unresponsive, and Mike was terrified. He should never have let Donnie go into that warehouse alone. He should have insisted that they stay together and not split up! It was his fault that Donnie was hurt, and it was tearing him up inside. Mike was smarter than this! He was twenty-two years older than his baby brother! He had far more experience than Donnie had now! He should have seen the warning signs and not trusted his teenaged brother’s judgement on this!

Donnie’s arm slipped from where Mike had it thrown across his shoulder, and Mike could feel the slick blood trail it left behind. He doubled his speed.

“Hang in there, Donnie,” he said. “You’re not allowed to die, alright? You’re not allowed to die!”

But Mike was afraid that if he didn’t get him help soon, that Donnie would die. There had been a bomb in that building, and Donnie had headed straight for it, trying to disarm it. Mike should have seen that coming. Donnie always went straight for the tech. Even as Don, that’s what he had done. But what Donnie hadn’t realized was that, even though there was a countdown on this bomb, there was also a remote control—and one of the Foot had it.

Mike had screamed out a warning to Donnie just before the Foot Ninja had set it off. If the explosion hadn’t of killed the Foot Ninja, Mike would have killed the man himself. Instead, he had dug himself out of debris and gone desperately searching for his little brother.

He’d found him, and for a second fear and coursed through him at the idea that he might be dead. Fortunately, that was quickly pushed to the side when he saw his little brother breathing. But when he also saw how heavily he was bleeding, the panic had started again.

Donnie’s side had taken the brunt of the explosion, leaving that side of him bloodied and burned. Mike had seen shrapnel in there, too, but he counted his lucky starts that none of it seemed big. His shoulder hadn’t been sitting right, though, and he had a large headwound that had been bleeding. Mike had quickly looked him over, determining that his neck seemed fine, and that his shell was still in one piece, before scooping his baby brother up. He had heard movement around them, and he had known that there were more Foot around. He’d needed to move fast if he was to get Donnie to safety. He’d pressed the emergency button on his shell cell, and then he had just run.

The Foot had been chasing him since, and Mike had needed to fight, even while holding Donnie. He dodged and evaded as much as he could, though. His goal was not to defeat the Foot, but to get Donnie home.

“Hang on, hang on, hang on,” Mike said as he ran. “You’re not allowed to die, alright? You’re not allowed to die. You’re not allowed to die!”

He got no response from his little brother.

He kept running, taking as many alleyways as possible and trying to avoid the Foot. He heard something coming down the street, heading for him, and he doubled his speed, looking for an alley way to travel down that wouldn’t have a dead end in it. The Foot had been trailing him. If they were sending back up this way, Mike wasn’t about to let them catch up.

“Mikey! Mikey for the love of—Stop Running!”

Mike skidded to a stop, turning to look. It wasn’t just any vehicle that had been trailing him up this deserted road, it had been their vehicle, the Battle Shell 2.0. And Raph was leaning out the window yelling at him.

Mike ran straight for it without a moment’s hesitation.

The side door was already opening, and Mike leapt in, making sure to keep all of Donnie’s limbs safe as he did. The door rolled closed behind him, and the Battle Shell 2.0 took off down the road. But Mike didn’t care as he carefully laid his baby brother down on the floor of their truck.

“Mikey, what happened?” Raph asked, even as he gathered supplies.

In their younger years, Mike might have taken that as an insult, a questioning of his skills. Now he knew that his brothers didn’t doubt his skills at all, but that the question was asking just what it was. Mike shook his head.

“A bomb. They planted a bomb and blew it early,” he said. “I—I tried to make sure his neck and shell were alright, but—”

“Never mind all that,” Raph said. “Help me stop the bleeding on his head while I take a look at his side. Leo!” he called out to the front of the truck where, presumably, Leo was driving. “Step on it—and take us straight to Leatherhead’s!”

“Right!” Leo said, and the truck moved faster.

“Keep pressure, Mike,” Raph said as he looked over their baby brother.

“He—he can’t die,” Mike blurted out. “Raph, he can’t die, he’s not allowed to die!”

“I ain’t about to let him die, Mike,” Raph growled out. “So, stop yammering and keep that pressure steady!”

Mike nodded, taking short breaths and trying to breathe deeper. He was on the edge of panic, and he knew it. But Donnie was just thirteen. He was still a kid! Mike knew that they had all been just a little older, fifteen, when they had first gone topside. They’d felt so grown. But two years older than Donnie was now didn’t feel grown at all. It felt like that was still childhood, and all Mike could think of was how it wasn’t fair. Donnie was a child! He shouldn’t be laying on the floor of a truck he modified, bleeding everywhere while enemies chased them. He should be staying up playing video games, reading for the fun of it, and building things.

“You’re not allowed to die,” he said, softly but forcefully to Donnie. Raph heard him, but aside from a glance, said nothing.

The trip to Leatherhead’s wasn’t far, especially since the Battle Shell 2.0 could easily fit through the sewer tunnels, in case of an emergency just like this one. Leo must have called ahead, because Leatherhead was already there, ready and waiting. Raph lifted Donnie off the floor as soon as they were stopped, and he, LH, and the Fugitoid took off to the infirmary with Donnie.

And then Mike was left there all alone, with only his brother’s blood for company.

It took Mike a moment to realize that Leo was beside him, and he looked up at him. “I…” Mike started. “…he’s not allowed to die.”

“I know, Mike,” Leo said. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Mike nodded, and let Leo lead him away.

Mike sort of lost track of time after that. Leo took him to the bathroom, where he helped Mike to get Donnie’s blood off of him, as well as to patch up any injuries he had gotten. Then he took Mike to Leatherhead’s living room, sat him on a couch, wrapped a blanket around him, and headed towards the kitchen. He came back with something warm to drink and pushed it into Mike’s hand. Mike took it, and then just waited.

Master Splinter arrived only a few minutes later, and not long afterwards, so did April and Casey and their kids. Mike didn’t know how long they all sat there. It could have been thirty minutes. It could have been half the day. All he knew was that he needed to know that Donnie was going to be okay.

“You’re not allowed to die, Donnie. You’re not allowed to die! That’s almost happened too many times already, when you were Don, and we’ve lost Don, too. We gained you, though. And you? You’re NOT ALLOWED TO DIE!”

Finally, Raph came out, looking tired, but alright. He looked up at the group that had gathered. “He’ll be alright,” he said without preamble.

Tension left the room, and Mike felt himself go limp on the couch cushions.

“He’s gotta recover,” Raph said. “But the shrapnel wasn’t bad, and the burns aren’t too serious. His shoulder’s busted at the moment, but LH and the Professor have got that in place and immobilized. And his head wound looked worse than it was. He did lose a lot of blood, but he’ll be alright in time.”

Mike could have cried.

“Mike.”

Mike nearly sat up at attention.

“Boy genius is awake, and he wants to see you,” Raph said. “So, get your mopey shell in there.”

Mike glanced over at Leo and Splinter, but they both nodded, and he didn’t waste any more time.

At some point, they had managed to set up a small almost-hospital in a room here at LH’s. It had come in handy a time or two before, and they’d managed to get some real things, like an actual hospital bed. That’s where Donnie was now, his mask and pads removed, arm immobilized, and bandages wrapped around him. He was chattering quietly to the professor, but as soon as he saw Mike, he lit up.

“Mikey!” he said.

Mike walked closer, coming up next to the bed. “Hey, squirt. How are you feeling?”

“Raph told me that I couldn’t say ‘fine’,” Donnie said, “or anything close to it, so I guess I’m feeling kinda bad,” he said with a wince. “But are you alright?”

Mike blinked. “Me? Bud, I’m not the one that almost got blown up. I’m fine.”

Donnie winced at that, and looked down at his hand, fiddling with the bed sheet. The professor, watching the two of them, politely excused himself, leaving the two turtles functionally alone. Mike sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Hey—Donnie? What’s going through that brain if yours?” he said. “Talk to big bro Mike.”

Don bit his lip, and then looked up at Mike, guilt on his face. “I’m sorry!” he blurted out.

Mike blinked. “Sorry?” he said, confused. “Donnie, what are you sorry about?

“I didn’t listen,” he said. “I thought I could do it. I thought that, if I could defuse that bomb, then maybe I could go on missions with the three of you. Like… like you used to do with the old me.” His head sank down a little. “I know you miss him. I thought that maybe if I could do that, then things might be sort of normal again.”

Mike blinked. “Oh, buddy…”

He stood up, and moved closer to the head of the bed, so he could sit next to Donnie. Donnie shifted over to accommodate him, and Mikey gently wrapped an arm around his little brother, carefully pulling him into his side.

“Alright, Donnie, I want you to listen to me good,” he said. “Yeah, I miss Don. I miss old you. I miss my big brother that I could go crawl in bed with after monster movie marathons and giving him crazy ideas for inventions. I miss the memories and the jokes and all of the stuff we shared together. I miss him. But,” he bopped Donnie lightly on the nose. “That doesn’t mean I want him instead of you.”

Donnie blinked at him, but didn’t say anything, so Mike continued. “You’re Donatello Splinterson, the same as he was, but you’re not Don. You’ve lived different lives, had different experiences, and you’re different people. And I love both of you. I love Don and I love Donnie, and I wouldn’t trade one for the other. Besides, Don wouldn’t want that. He wouldn’t want the him that’s you to stop existing.”

He put a kiss on the top of Donnie’s head, being careful of the injuries there. “When you’re ready for patrol, then I know that we’ll gladly take you with us. But not because we want you there to replace Don, but because we want you, Donnie, with us. We love you. Not because of who you used to be, but because of who you are, okay? So don’t go around trying to replace Don. Grow up into who you are. That’s all we want.”

Donnie looked at Mike with wide eyes, his chin trembling a little. He looked away, and used his good arm to wipe at his eyes. Mike obligingly pretended that he couldn’t see the tears in them.

“O-okay,” Donnie finally said. “Okay. But… I really do want to go on patrol with all of you,” he said.

Mike chuckled a bit. “I know you do. But I think tonight proves that you’re not quite ready for that yet.”

“Yeah,” Donnie agreed with a sheepish smile.

Mike stayed with Donnie for a little bit longer, and then he left, knowing Master Splinter wanted to come in and spend time with his youngest son. Mike collapsed back on the couch as soon as he could, staring at the ceiling.

“You good, Mike?” Leo asked.

Mike nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I will be. Where are April and Casey and their crew?”

“Gone to get us food,” Leo said. “No one really feels like cooking.”

“And no one wants you to cook, bro,” Mike shot back.

“…How’s Donnie?” Leo asked softly.

Mike took a moment to consider. “He’ll be okay. He just needs to figure out who he is, apart from Don.” He paused. “He wants to go on patrol with us.”

“Not for a while, not after tonight,” Leo said. “He’s not ready yet.”

“Yeah, I think he gets that,” Mike said. “But maybe that’s something to work towards.”

“I’ll talk it over with Sensei,” Leo said.

Raph called out to Leo from the kitchen, and Leo left to see what he needed. Mike stayed put, thinking over the night’s events. Donnie had been hurt, badly. But he was alright. He was going to be okay. And they had some things to work through with him. But that was alright with Mike. As long as his baby brother was alive to work through them, that was alright with Mike. They’d talk it through, they’d train more, and in a couple of years, maybe Donnie could go on patrol with them.

But not until he was ready. Not until they knew he was ready. Because if there was one thing that Mike was certain of, after seeing it happen once, it was that Donnie was not allowed to die. None of them would let it happen, and that was a promise.

[mdhwrites]

Why the Name Belos?

So this isn’t entirely criticism with some research and more of a showers thought sort of thing but it started with me realizing that Belos could have foreshadowed something... And didn’t. I’ll reveal it after getting into what his name actually means.

So Philip genuinely is just a basic bitch, English name. It means Friend of Horses which we never see anything of. Wittebane is actually obvious if you think about it as yes, it does in fact translate either to ‘White Tormentor” or to “Witch tormentor” if the Wiki is right at least. That’s pretty standard and the like so *shrug*.

But then there’s Belos. The name he gave himself. Now there are three ways to interpret it. One that theoretically takes into account his background, one that fits the same way Wittebane does and one that I think fits both and is a lot more sly. First: Belos is from the New Testament to mean “Javelin, Dart, Arrow, a missile”. This is why it’s more just “This does fit for his background as a religious extremist but not really for deeper meaning.” He isn’t very direct or targeted in his methods after all. This meaning would be a lot better if he were a specter, assassin, or just did a lot more of his dirty work himself to reflect the single purpose and single target drive of the items it correlates to. One could claim he has the singular purpose but even that isn’t just about murdering witches as he does reveal his goal is as much about titles and fame that it will gain him back home or else he wouldn’t care when Luz gets the title wrong. Also he’s just really bad at his goal so that also hurts the case.

The one the wiki states and that a name definer relates it to is an Ancient Greek term for Lord or Ruler. It’s like when Toriyama named the god of his world Kami. It does work, even if bluntly (though I’ve used the same sort of trick to inspire names I’ve used before) and it is imposing and it fits his egotism. Kind of my only real issue is that while he does become the emperor... His goal isn’t conquest. It’s murder. Worse yet, it’s not like the people of the Isles would know what it meant so it means nothing to them and doesn’t have a double meaning except for making title “Lord Lord” and Belos doesn’t seem like the one to want his name to be a literal joke. Why not make it a sly warning then? Have the people call him what would eventually doom them all?

So here’s the third way: Phonetically what it sounds like. Belos is pronounced effectively the same way as Bellows. You know, those things you use to strengthen and stoke a fire in a furnace. Or a pyre perhaps? And this was the shower thought: Why wasn’t Belos’ big final move fire? It is his backstory that he is a WITCH HUNTER. Witches weren’t just shot or the like on the spot. They were burned. Or stoned admittedly I believe but famously they were mostly burned.

Why not burn away the Isles, with his power, influence, etc. like that as the bellows that helped stoke the fire that saw it all burn away? If you want to go more metaphorically, why not fuel the flames of rebellion? He clearly didn’t have the most amount of control over his lands despite being a tyrant, or told to us to be one since his actions don’t actually correlate with one, so he could have been trying to make a rebellion happen. Killing Eda, the most famous wild witch, and petrifying her could do both. Solidify the terror in believer’s hearts while also enraging those who believed this was too far.

Of course that would have required everyone rallying to Eda to actually make... sense at the end of S1? Like this isn’t a desire that’s unfounded due to S1′s finale very much so feeling like it’s setting up for the entirety of the Isles to rebel against Belos when that never happens. Of course, the claims even in the show are pretty fucking weak. Like for this crime to be unjust, Eda would have to not be a know, actual criminal who did do more, at least supposedly, than just being a wild witch. She would have actually had to have had allies and friends and not been a complete bitch to literally everyone she met, including Luz and King for the first half of the season, for the entirety of S1.

Again, as far as the name goes, it’s fine. Belos works as just being a cheeky reference to him being the Lord of the Isles and it fits the general naming scheme of TOH. King is literally a King of sorts. Luz was at the beginning the light of the show and looked like she was meant to bring light to a dark place which... Yeah, that’s a different blog. Amity is amicable (as well as maybe Amityville?) very quickly and that closeness feeds into her being the love interest. Even Willow is named after a tree that is known to look sad and pathetic while being actually really strong.

It’s just interesting to me that a witch hunter’s name coincidentally also sounds like something that helps fuel fires. You’d think that’d be on purpose or someone might have noticed, though admittedly I didn’t until today so *shrug*. Again, not the biggest deal in the world, just kind of started making my brain buzz a bit.

=========

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead, If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

And finally a Twitter you can follow too!

[sweetswesf]

After receiving the offer, I jumped into high gear to prepare for my new role. They were requiring me to be in the office in Silicon Valley. My prayers to move out of San Francisco had been answered. My whole reason for moving from New York to get to Silicon Valley that I initially dreamed at 21 had come true at 30. Although SF and my last company and becoming a software engineer was a goal that I accomplished in 2019, being a software engineer in Silicon Valley at this type of company was the initial goal. I found a church QUICKLY that seems to be everything I want: diverse, full of happy, friendly, and genuine people, but especially Black people. So many people of all races have welcomed me and asked for my number and check in on me and save me seats and invite me to lunches and hikes and game nights. I’m getting paid more than double what I was making at my last company. I have a quiet apartment with counter space in my bathroom and kitchen. I have a short commute and can walk 10 minutes to the shuttle stop that takes me to campus in a WiFi bus. This place has so much documentation. Services are stable and work. Setting up my laptop, schedule, goals, etc have been great. My team has been so welcoming. They constantly remind me to take my time and that I can hop in when I’m ready. There are 2 other Black women on my team. They invest a lot into their employees and brand. I have a great relationship with my parents and grandparents. My mom calls em everyday. My Mom continued to send me $1000 a month every month until I got my pay check. I didn’t get my paycheck until the end of my 2nd week, but she still sent money my first week of work. I had to move from the first place I moved in because the insulation was so poor that I heard EVERY footstep and thank God I followed what I believe to be His voice to look at my lease to see that they had a 30 day guarantee where I could break my lease no questions asked. I’m in a better place. I have a Costco membership. I get to buy clothes that fit that I enjoy wearing. I still need to be a good steward of the blessings God has given me. I learned how to trim my hair, so I’m truly independent with my hair care. I was freaking out about not knowing Java before I started my new role, but my manager planned before I got there to give me time to ramp up on the language but give me tasks in a language I already know so I could start delivering on the team. He is giving me space while allowing me to feel productive. I’ve received great feedback so far. I know what I’m being asked to do in my role. Things are clear. I feel more responsible. I be tired, but the office is a great temperature! Most of my team is scattered across the country and only me and another colleague come in the office, but we don’t even sit right next to each other so there’s no pressure to show up a certain way. She’s such a sweetheart. Upon meeting me, she asked if she could hug me. It felt like God was hugging me through her. Like, “You made it child.” I’m trying my best to remember where I came from, maintain in relationship with God, keep praying as I did when I really needed God to come through, expect only the best and not let my past or past bad habits haunt me. I went through what I went through for a reason. I’m more patient, responsible, happy, grateful, calm, trusting. When I learned my destination was closed when I got dropped off, my Uber driver said, “You took that pretty well. Most people would be mad.” I’ve come a long way to hear this. This was such a compliment. I’ve learned to chill. I practiced this before getting what I prayed for because I knew God would grant me it.

I know I will face challenges, but I know that I don’t need to worry. Before all these blessings, I thanked God for making it happen, because I knew He would. All while I got to stay true to myself and just focus on doing my best. I have prayers for my life, my career, a marriage, my finances, my health, my family, the world, and I know God is capable. I know things are going to turn out better than I expect.

I had been wanting to share God’s love with y’all for a while, I just needed time to settle in to all the newness. God did exceedingly, abundantly, above all I could ask or think. And He can do the same for you. Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Holy Spirit. God bless you, reader. Whatever you’re going through, I know God can get you through.

[j-nipper-95]

Seven (but is it really) Sentence Sunday

Yes, I’ve given up with picking six sentences at the moment. No, I’m not sure if that will last, but we move! 

Thank you @aroace-genderfluid-sheep​ and @confused-bi-queer​ for the tags today!

I’m back with more from my COTTA 2023 piece, and this is the most ‘pantser’ story I’ve every written. We’re just going with pure vibes, baby (and the plot of The Road to El Dorado, but details!). I’m writing during Camp NaNoWriMo, and yet again, NaNo continues to show me just how much I can actually write if I put my mind to it. 12,500 was my word count goal for the whole of July ... and I’m already at 7,683!

So, without further ado, have a bit of Dev and Baz being absolute nightmares and embarrassing the shit out of Niall.

“What the hell happened to you out there today?” my cousin asks, giving me that patented Pitch eyebrow raise.

“Rope burn,” I say. I don’t mutter it, I certainly don’t mumble. I just don’t say it as loudly or clearly as I could have.

“You and Snow getting into the kinky shit now, are you?” Dev sneers, and Niall smacks him in the side.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I say, turning my back on them. “Running out of ideas for the bedroom?”

“Baz!” I glance back to see Niall has turned a shocking shade of red. It’s nothing compared to when Snow works up to a bluster, but I’ll give Niall his dues, he’s pretty close.

“It’s the twentieth century, Niall. Don’t tell me you’re still embarrassed by the sight of an uncovered ankle. Something tells me you’ve seen far more of my cousin than that.”

With that, I leave Niall gasping and gaping like a fish, trying to formulate a comeback, and Dev eyeing him in a way that tells me he’s imagining more than just Niall’s ankles being uncovered. 

It’s double the promised ‘seven’ sentences this Sunday, but I couldn’t leave off half this conversation. Some of it just demanded that shred more context. but a shred is all you’re getting 👀🙈

Tagging: @artsyunderstudy @aristocratic-otter @palimpsessed @dragoneggos  @prettylightsbigcity  @stardustasincocaine @fatalfangirl @cutestkilla @ileadacharmedlife @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @ebbpettier @martsonmars @erzbethluna @hushed-chorus