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huphilpuffs · 5 years

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flares

chapter: 31/? summary: Dan’s body has been broken for as long as he can remember, and he’s long since learned to deal with it. Sort of. But when his symptoms force him to leave uni and move into a new flat with a stranger named Phil, he finds that ignoring the pain isn’t the way to make himself happy. word count: 4k (103k total) rating: mature warnings: chronic illness, chronic pain, medicine a/n: As always, immense thanks to @obsessivelymoody for beta’ing!

Ao3 link || read from beginning

They settle into bed that night with no intention of going to sleep.

Dan’s laptop is open, resting on his thighs. Phil propped up two pillows against the wall for him to lean against, his back and neck still tender from the pressure point test Dr. Kissel performed. The duvet is draped across his lap, his toes sticking out from the end of it.

Phil stares at the screen over his shoulder. Dan can feel the warm puffs of air from his breathing against his skin.

He types fibro mialgia into Google.

Its response is Did you mean: Fibromyalgia, just enough to have a quiet breath rumbling between Dan’s ribs.

He clicks on the first link, a webpage from the Mayo Clinic. He’s pretty sure that’s in America somewhere. It probably doesn’t much matter. The top of the page tells him it’s believed to amplify painful sensations by changing the way the brain processes pain. He thinks that’s what Dr. Kissel said.

Dan’s not entirely sure what fucked up pain processing is supposed to feel like, but he thinks this is probably it.

The next paragraph is about trauma, about how it sometimes triggers fibromyalgia. Dan tries not to let the fact that he doesn’t relate make his insides twist too much.

Phil must be able to tell, because he leans in close and whispers, “It says ‘sometimes’.”

The one after that includes a list of other conditions that may be related. Dan reads it once, twice, three times before his gaze lingers on the last two. His stomach goes tight. He doesn’t realize his fingertip’s tapping his computer until Phil reaches over to grab it, snagging one of Dan’s hands and drawing it into his lap.

He doesn’t ask what Dan’s staring at. It’s probably obvious.

Dan’s spent years trying to convince himself he definitely wasn’t depressed, that definitely wasn’t his problem, and now it’s splashed across the page again in the clearest of sans serif fonts. Dr. Kissel didn’t mention that one. He wonders how much of his chart she’s read, if she knew it would make him feel like this.

He almost shuts the laptop and gives up on research. Maybe he doesn’t want to know after all.

But then Phil reaches over and scrolls down for him, leaving the list of symptoms lighting up Dan’s screen.

Everything after that is overwhelming in a different way. There’s a lot of symptoms. A lot of possible treatments. Dan’s never considered most of them. Massage therapy sounds incredibly unpleasant. Acupuncture, too. Getting enough sleep sounds so implausible that Dan actually laughs, too loud, too sharp.

The next page on Google is a lot of the same. So is the third, and the fourth.

Exercise is mentioned a lot. Dan’s joints ache at just the thought of trying to go out for a run, at the memory of how painful it was just to walk to class back at uni, of how sick he used to feel after gym class back in school.

There’s a lot they don’t know about fibromyalgia, he learns. There’s no cure, no definitive answer on why things hurt. There’s a bunch of studies that show little abnormalities that might cause it but none of them agree and none are conclusive and Dan doesn’t much care.

He knows, finally. And there’s some stuff they do know.

It’s not fatal. It’s never fatal. Dan reads that bit out loud, because Phil’s sitting next to him, gaze tripping across the page just a bit slower than Dan’s. Dr. Kissel already told them that more than once. The extra layer of reassurance makes Phil lean in close, his body pressed against Dan’s side.

He dusts a kiss to Dan’s bare shoulder, soft, loving.

There was a time when Dan might have been terrified by the prospect of a lifelong condition with no cure and no potential to be let out of his misery. It’s still scary now, not knowing what to expect for any of his future. But giving this up isn’t really an option anymore.

Phil lets go of his hand to wrap his arm around Dan’s shoulders instead, leaning in close so his head rests right above Dan’s collarbone.

“I’m glad you have an answer,” he says. His voice has gone low and gravelly.

He sounds tired. And he has to work in the morning. And Dan suddenly feels bad for keeping him up for so long with a cycle of redundant articles that say the same little bit of information in slightly different ways. He closes his laptop, scrolled only halfway down the page.

“You’re not gonna keep reading?”

“I can read tomorrow,” he says. “Apparently I need to focus on getting enough sleep.”

Phil chuckles. He pulls away just enough slip down the mattress until he’s lying down. Dan tosses the extra pillow onto the floor and rests his laptop precariously on the corner of his bedside table before doing the same. He reaches out, draping his arm across Phil’s stomach, cuddling up against his side.

He can’t handle the pressure against his back tonight. Phil doesn’t seem to mind.

His palm settles flat against Dan’s ribcage, head dipping down. Dan looks up to meet his mouth in a quick kiss goodnight.

When he pulls away, he’s smiling.

---

Dan dreams of being old that night.

He’s sitting in a mostly empty room with white walls and a sofa. There’s a blanket draped over him and an ice pack sitting uselessly atop his head. It’s just like his life now, except when he looks down, his hands are wrinkled and spotted with age.

He wakes up. The room is still dark, hardly a touch of light filtering through Phil’s curtains. Phil’s still sound asleep, snoring softly.

Dan’s brain is echoing his nan’s complaints about how achy her knees were, the ones he could relate to when he was only fourteen.

He swallows, presses himself tighter against Phil’s side, and stares at the window until he falls back asleep.

---

His chest is tight when he wakes up in the morning.

Phil’s not in bed anymore. There’s a note on Dan’s bedside table telling him Phil’s already gone to work. It has a silly little smiley face drawn in the corner. Dan’s laptop has been moved to sit on the chest of drawers instead, more stable there than where he placed it last night.

He sinks back against his pillow once he’s spotted it. His breath comes out as a sigh, his hand coming up to rub hard at the line of his sternum, as though that will ease the pressure there.

His knees crack when his climbs out of bed. There’s still a tingling, radiating sort of pain where Dr. Kissel pressed against his body, all down his legs and up along his spine. Some of them feel swollen, but when he rubs at the back of his neck, there’s nothing there.

Dan grabs his laptop and changes his pants before moving to the lounge.

He turns to look back before he leaves, hand gripping the door frame to steady him. The duvet is ruppled on both sides, a giant ball of fluff where Dan’s feet were. There’s a pillow on the floor and two pressed close together at the head of the mattress. Dan’s phone charger rests on his bedside table, plugged into nothing.

Something spasms in Dan’s chest.

It takes him a moment to realize it’s anxiety.

---

The kettle is half full of water on the kitchen counter. There’s a smoothie in the fridge with a straw already sticking out of it. Phil left the cereal box out, plastic bag half poking out the top of it, and the cupboard door open overhead. Dan closes it as he sips at his breakfast.

He doesn’t turn the TV on this morning.

He drags his computer onto his lap and opens the article he’d left half read last night. He doesn’t finish it. There’s other things on his mind this morning than symptom lists he’s already read and collections of advice that only seems half effective.

Working with fibromyalgia, is what he types into Google today.

The first link is to a WebMD article. Dan clicks it without thinking much.

People can work with this, is the first thing Dan learns. It makes his chest feel funny, something half relief and half not blooming there. Keep working, is what the article says, and Dan tries not to think about the day he handed his resignation to Sue, body aching so much just getting there had been a hassle.

He fails.

He thinks about it for so long that his vision goes out of focus, the article sliding into double. It snaps back into place when he blinks and scrolls down to the next part, too many lists of too many questions to address way too many problems.

The advice is … a lot. It’s flexible work hours and working from home, extra equipment at work and less tasks. It’s finding a job that’s not too stressful and lets you sleep in, and one where you don’t need to do manual labour but can also survive when your brain isn’t working right.

Right in the middle of it, there’s an ad for some pill that starts with, Does your penis curve when erect?

Dan laughs. It’s only then that he realizes his throat’s gone tight and his eyes are stinging. His fingers are shaking over the keyboard when he jams the down arrow to read the rest of the page. It takes him too many tries to stay steady enough to click the arrow bringing him to the next one.

Can I get disability with fibromyalgia? is its header.

Dan almost forgets how to breathe. He doesn’t read it. He doesn’t go back to Google. He closes Chrome entirely and slams his laptop shut and tells himself it’s because the advice was about American law and not because his stomach suddenly really doesn’t like the smoothie Phil made more him.

A tear rolls down his cheek.

He stares at the blank TV screen until it falls off the bottom of his chin.

---

The lounge is full of both their stuff.

There’s a PlayStation and a Wii on the TV cabinet, above neat shelves lined with a shared collection of games. There’s two DS chargers plugged into the wall. There’s a stack of DVDs by the door to the balcony, Dan’s piled on top of Phil’s from when he first moved in.

The blanket Phil got him is draped over the sofa. Decorations he had before Dan moved in are all laid out on the furniture and hanging on the walls. There’s a throw pillow that used to live on the sofa that now sits in the corner of the room.

Dan thinks too much about how none of his A-levels or GCSCs will ever be enough to get him a job that would give him any of the things on WebMD’s list.

And then even more about all the horror stories he’s heard about people living on benefits.

And then, once his chest hurts and pressure is welling at his temples, about how he doesn’t really have a choice but to need one of them if his body’s not going to be fixed.

It’s not. Dan expected that. He tries not to care. Part of him doesn’t.

But the other part of him reminds him that Phil’s parents are still paying his part of the rent, echoes his mum’s warnings about leeching off Phil until tears are welling in his eyes once again. It pictures the people back in Wokingham who told him he’d never go anywhere if Dan didn’t learn to deal with a little bit of pain.

His brain flashes a quick image of being back there.

He reaches for his phone, just to distract himself. He ends up texting Taylor instead.

Dan: can you come over? i have news

Taylor: already on my way out the door

---

“You look less shit today,” is what she says when she opens the door. There’s a smile on her face, wavering just enough to let Dan know it’s her attempt to act normal.

He doesn’t feel less shit. The post-appointment high has settled into something just as heavy and insecure feeling as before, just tainted with different memories, weighted with different fears.

“Yeah,” he says, “Well, stuff happened.”

He leads her to the lounge without explaining first. His body is achy and she knows he needs to be sitting down. When she settles down next to him, it’s with her whole body turned towards him, legs tucked under her and arm draped across the back of the cushions, like she’s waiting for something.

She doesn’t ask for it.

Dan takes a moment to steady his breath before saying, “I’m not dying.”

She chuckles, breathy and uncertain. “That’s good,” she says. “You better think it’s good.”

There was a day, back in at uni, when she’d tossed her textbook aside and said killing me would be less painful. And Dan, safe in the knowledge that she wouldn’t try to send him to a therapist, lest the advice be turned back on her, had admitted sometimes I wish I was dying just so I’d know the pain would end.

“It’s good,” says Dan. He turns towards her, offering a smile that actually feels genuine. “I have a diagnosis.”

“Oh!” She bounces on her knees. “And?”

“It’s fibromyalgia.”

She nods, just once, brows going a little furrowed. “Is it bad that I don’t know what that means?”

Dan laughs. “Neither did I,” he says. “I reckon most scientists don't either, if Google is a reliable source.”

“Sounds accurate, if my quarter of a bio degree is anything to go off,” says Taylor. A smile quirks at the corners of her mouth.

Dan’s not sure he’s ever seen her smiling when talking about those classes. It’s nice.

“Yeah, most of my old doctors confirm the theory,” he says, smiling too. “Dr. Kissel’s actually good, though.”

“Yeah?” says Taylor. “And this fibromyalgia thing, is it good?”

He shrugs. The anxiety from before burns in his chest again. His head tilts back against the sofa, and he watches Taylor’s brows furrow in concern.

“Probably shouldn’t be. The symptoms are royal shit and there’s no cure and I don’t really know where to go from here,” he admits. “But having an answer? That’s good.”

A smile spreads slowly across her face, close-lipped and content. Dan watches her eyes flick between both of his, her head falling to rest against her open palm as she stares.

“I’m not gonna pretend to understand,” she says. “My diagnosis– I knew what was wrong, I just didn’t want to admit it, you know?”

Dan nods. He wonders if that’s one of the things she learned about herself in therapy, wonders how he never really saw it that way. Maybe because he couldn’t relate. He never felt like he knew what was wrong with him. Until now.

His heart clenches at that, eyes falling closed against the rush of anxiety-tainted relief that floods the already too-full space between his ribs.

Taylor reaches over, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. Her voice is quiet as a whisper when she says, “I’m so happy for you.”

He laughs. It comes out as a puff of air that sounds half like a sob, but it’s the best he can muster without actually breaking into tears.

She must be able to tell, because she pulls away and settles back against the sofa. Dan counts his breath for a moment afterwards, until the steady rise and fall of his chest feels less fragile. When he opens his eyes again, Taylor’s staring up at the ceiling with him, lips still quirked up.

“You get to join me in the arduous process that is recovery now, you know,” she says. “Welcome to the dark side.”

Dan smiles. “Shouldn’t it be the brighter side?”

“Hush,” she turns to him. Her smile’s reaching her eyes, like it rarely used to before. “I’ve been rehearsing that in my head for the last, like, two minutes, let me have this.”

When Dan laughs that time, it actually feels genuine.

---

Taylor stays for dinner. Phil invited her.

They eat around the coffee table. Taylor lets Phil have his usual spot next to Dan with a joke about how she’s pretty sure it’s morphed to their spines by now, and drags over a chair from the dining table instead. She tells Phil all about her new courses as they eat, a grin wide on both their faces.

Afterwards, they play a round of Mario Kart, because they can. Dan wins. Taylor comes in second this time, and Phil complains about how she’s never allowed to play with them again because, even if he can’t beat Dan, he can beat the computers. Usually.

Dan teases him with that last bit. He points out how often Phil ends up stuck in the item clusterfuck and, when he pouts in response, presses a quick kiss to his cheek. Because he can.

It feels normal. As normal as it can when, a few months ago, he and Taylor were playing this game on their DS’, miserable in Dan’s uni bedroom.

So, not normal at all.

Taylor’s laughs so much happy tears leak from the corners of her eyes. Dan has an answer for why his chest aches when he laughs too much. Phil reaches around him, and flattens a hand against Dan’s ribs when his breath catches around an exhale.

He whispers a quiet one, two, three, against the round of Dan’s shoulder.

Dan leans his head back against the cushions again, and enjoys the company of the two people who will give him a second to steady the broken parts of his body without making him feel bad.

When he looks back up, he smirks at them both, and starts a round of Rainbow Road without warning.

---

The anxiety starts to come back when darkness falls.

Phil leads him to the bedroom without a word. Taylor’s just left, the sky’s just starting to go dark. It’s been a long time since they last sat up and watched a movie late into the night, Dan realizes, but he doesn’t much mind. It means he gets to wrap himself in cozy blankets and rest his head on a fluffed up pillow and feel Phil’s arms around him.

He gets to reach up and chase away the tedium of the day with soft kisses pressed to Phil’s lips.

Tonight, though, he doesn’t. His mind is too preoccupied by the time he slips under the covers. He stares up at the ceiling and tries not to think of all the long nights he spent with just his pain and his questions to keep him company. Days when the brush of his duvet was too much against his skin, when his pillow pressed too much against the back of his neck.

It’s because there’s tender points there. Dan knows that now.

It doesn’t feel like he should.

He reaches out into the space between them and catches Phil’s hand over the mattress, squeezing once.

“Can I ask you something?” he says.

“‘Course,” says Phil. He rolls over, so he’s curled up on his side facing Dan, head resting against the crook of his elbow.

Dan doesn’t look back at him. He feels weird when he asks, “You know that thing you made me do the other day? To get my thoughts out of my head? With my webcam?”

“Yeah,” says Phil. “Why?”

Dan swallows. Phil must be able to hear it, because he squeezes Dan’s hand, just for a second.

“Would you find it weird if I wanted to do it again?”

“Why would I find that weird?” asks Phil. He lets go of Dan’s hand, only to reach out and clumsily search for his fringe in the darkness. He swipes some curls away from his eyes. “I told you I used to do it, didn’t I?”

Dan shrugs. It’s awkward, with his pillow tucked right above his shoulders. “Yeah. Just feels weird.”

“Well, it doesn’t have to, if it helps,” says Phil. “Do you want me to set it up for you?”

Dan considers it. There’s comfort in the idea, a weird kind that soothes his mind into thinking Phil actually can’t find it weird if he’s willing to help Dan do it. But it’s getting late, late enough that Dan’s pretty sure if he peeked outside he could see the the flashing trails of airplanes over the city, and Phil worked all day.

“I think I can manage,” he says. “Pretty sure I haven’t forgotten how to use my laptop just yet.”

Phil laughs. His hand trails across Dan’s chest as he slips out of bed. When Dan turns to look back from the doorframe, the hallway light lets him see just enough to tell that Phil’s still curled up on his side, smiling.

---

He sets his laptop up on his pillows, with the grainy window of his webcam app filling the screen.

The room stays silent for long seconds after he hits record. Dan adjusts his hair, all curly in the way he hates but can never spare the energy to fix. He fidgets around on his bed until his too-bony knees are out of shot and you can see the waistline of his pants so he doesn’t look naked.

Part of him wants to laugh at himself. It doesn’t matter. No one will ever see this. Dan doesn’t even think he’ll ever look back at it.

He takes a deep breath, brings his fingers to his head, and says, “Hello internet,” just like last time.

And then he rants into the camera until he’s lost track of what he’s already said and isn’t sure any of it is making sense and the anxiety in his brain fades into some sort of mental fatigue. He’s lying down on his side because he lost the energy to sit up and his laptop clock is telling him it’s been over half an hour.

His hands are shaking when he reaches over to shut the recording off. Dan’s not sure when that started.

He’s not sure about a lot of things, he realizes.

Dan rolls onto his back, and stares up a ceiling that’s just like Phil’s but feels way less familiar until he musters the energy to hold his body upright again.

---

Phil’s still awake when Dan goes back to their room.

He looks up from his phone as Dan closes the door behind him and walks over to crawl into bed. He pulls the duvet over his body, right up to his chin, and curls up on his side. There’s a headache welling in his temples, and a heaviness lingering in his chest.

“Were you listening?” he whispers.

“No,” says Phil. He reaches behind him to set his phone down, sending the room dark, and then reaches out to tuck a strand of Dan’s hair behind his ear. “I don’t want to intrude.”

Dan hums. His eyes drift closed as Phil’s thumb traces small circles on his cheek.

Part of him wishes Phil had overheard, so he could soothe Dan’s anxieties without him needing to ask any scary questions. Most of him just wants to hold Phil close and pretend he isn’t suddenly questioning the stability of his entire fucking life, of all the wonderful things in it.

So he does. He grabs Phil’s hand, and dusts a soft kiss to his palm, and then presses closer until Phil’s arms are wrapped all the way around him, holding him tucked against his shoulder in an awkward horizontal hug.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

Phil doesn’t respond with words. He just brushes a kiss to the top of Dan’s head and then, when Dan looks up, a second to his lips.

And a third and a fourth and a fifth until they actually settle in to sleep.

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #flares #dan and phil #callie writes words

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7team7 · 5 years

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SasuSaku Month Day 7: One of These Nights

Title: Sasuke and Sakura’s Night Out! // Rating: M (drugs, language) // Summary: Sakura and Sakura don’t get out much, but just one night is enough to make up for a lifetime of staying in. Very much inspired by my love for both the movie booksmart and those memes where it’s like aren’t you tired of being nice? Don’t you want to just go absolutely fucking feral? Yeah, nerd SasuSaku going feral basically // ao3 link

A/N: something to make up for yesterday’s angst, this was a ton of fun to write!! Also why do i keep writing things i dont know about?? Idk anything about the good old mary jane or drugs in general lol but just go with it this isn’t really supposed to make sense Disclaimer: I don’t own Naruto, Booksmart, or anything mentioned in this story. I’m just a wee speck of dust in the universe

----

“One of these nights we should do something actually fun.”

“Since when did watching movies with me stop being fun? Did you want a snack or something? I saw that post you tagged me in this morning, I guess we can build a blanket fort on the trampoline, but you can’t complain about it being cold.”

Sakura sat up from where she was lounging on Sasuke’s bed, staring at the wall. “Now that you mention it, I could go for some boba. Or an edible.”

Sasuke, sitting in his bean bag, stared at Sakura in disbelief, “do you even know what’s in those?”

Sakura straightened up even more and looked down haughtily, “of course I do. Naruto told me a long time ago. And doesn’t a brownie sound so good right now?”

“Sakura, you got drunk off a few sips of your Aunt Tsunade’s rice wine and you’re telling me you want to get high? We’re about to go to college and you want to fry your brain?”

“We’re about to go to college and we’ve never done anything. Do you know how lame that is?”

Sasuke seemed to contemplate Sakura’s words for a moment before giving her a wolfish grin, sounding every bit the teenage boy he was, “that’s not true. We’ve done stuff. We’ve had sex. Lots of it.”

One of Sasuke’s pillows sailed across the room towards his face, accompanied by a screech, “I knew it, I knew you’d say something dumb! What does it matter when you’re already a stupid boy with no brain. Those ads are totally false, by the way. What’s the harm in trying weed, Sasuke? I wanna try, so you should do it with me.”

Despite being the captain of the speech and debate team, he couldn’t find anything to argue about. He texted Naruto; at least he could trust their “plug” or whatever he’s called by half the school.

Except, they actually couldn’t because he was somehow all out and directed them to Kiba instead.

“Seriously? We’ve known Naruto, like, forever? And he lets us down now? Kiba is smelly and weird. His weed probably...smells like weed.”

Sakura doesn’t let up, “just text Kiba, he’s not that bad. Don’t be lame.”

“What should I even say? Leaf emoji? Side eye emoji? Plug emoji? Is he going to give us a friends and family discount?”

“Sasuke, I know you love using color coordinated spreadsheets to organize your life, but now is not the time. Mention my name. Maybe he’ll give us a hot girl discount.”

“I just sent him ‘weed’ with a question mark. Oh, he already responded. He said come over right now and he’ll ‘give us the hook up.’ Sakura, does that mean he wants us to have a threesome with us?” Sasuke asked with false, exaggerated concern.

That earned Sasuke another pillow thrown at his face (this time it’s his favorite dinosaur plushie) before Sakura gets to her feet and announces with a rather dramatic clenched fist, “get in the car, we’re going to Kiba’s.”

----

“Yooo, Sasuke! Woah! And Sakura? The Kiba Hut is going to have a blessed night if these two legends are here! Come on in guys, we’re having a kickback.”

As Kiba opened the door wider to let them in, a haze of smoke wafted out and the smell hit them like a wall. They had definitely come to the right place.

They saw Kiba’s usual crew, Hinata and Shino, sitting on the couch looking very blissed out already, along with a number of other kids from their school. Sakura checked her phone, isn’t it like 9 pm? Is this late or early for this kind of stuff?

“My guy Naruto told me you’re here for some famous Kiba Hut edibles, and like, welcome to the bake sale, but I’m telling you man, you gotta try the newest from Shino. Shit’s dank, bro.”

The couple turned away from Kiba to look at Shino sitting there with his sunglasses still on despite being indoors. He raised a single hand in greeting, then gestured to a plate of brownies plus something less familiar in front of him. “The new goods or pot?”

Sasuke looked disturbed by the sight and was about to say “neither” before Sakura elbowed him sharply in the side, “we’ll take both!” she cut in with a big smile.

“Adventurous! I fucking love it! Man, you kids are too cute, I’ll give it to you real cheap. You got Venmo?” Kiba pulled his phone out to start the transaction.

Sakura glanced around, they had never been to Kiba’s house before, so this was a new experience all around. She spotted a bowl of water by the kitchen, “uh, can dogs get high?”

Kiba laughed, “you’re probably wondering where Akamaru is! He’s chillin’ in the backyard. He’s cool with it though, he’s a total bro. He’s got hella treats out there, we’ve got hella treats in here. Equality, you feel?”

“For sure, for sure. I’ll just approve the charge now and we’ll be on our way!”

“Not so fast you two! Here at the Kiba Hut, we support tripping out in a safe environment, so you should take Shino’s new-new here.”

Sasuke and Sakura exchange glances. What did they have to lose?

----

Well, for starters, their grasp on reality.

They sat at Kiba’s kitchen table to take what Shino gave them and saved the edibles for later. And it was like nothing they had ever experienced.

“Sasuke. Your eyes are really red. Like not just the whites but your uh, pupil or whatever is the colored part.”

Sasuke rubbed at his eyes, “no they’re not. I can see them. So I know they’re not red.”

“Uhh, okay? They totally are though. And..did your head get bigger?”

“No but yours did. Ha, if only Ino was here. Hey, forehead. Wait—what the fuck, when did we get so small?”

“Oh my god, you’re so cute. You’re so short, Sasuke, you’re so small!”

*A/N: please imagine them as the SD versions of themselves*

Sakura started scooting forward on her chair. “What do we do now? How do we get down? We’re so small. We can’t stay here. What the fuck is going on? What did they give us?”

“It’s so hot in here. What did Kiba say about getting ready to hot box? What does that mean, like sweaty boxing? Where’s our water?” Sasuke looked up to their glasses of water on the table, which seemed miles away in their shrunken state.

“There’s no way we can reach up there. My head feels too heavy for my body, I’ll fall over if we try to jump.”

“Shit. Shit, okay, take your jacket off, first of all, am I the only one melting? Are the walls melting? Just throw it on the ground and to make a cushion. I’ll throw mine down on top and we can jump down.”

“Are you insane? What if we die?”

Sasuke gave Sakura a judgemental look, “we might as well be, I’m so fucking high! Just jump, I’m sure it won’t be that bad. Plus, I’ll go first and I’ll catch you,” he finished with a wink. He threw his jacket down on the floor with a pointed expression. A burgundy cardigan soon followed. And Sasuke jumped.

A voice sounded from below, “it worked! I made it! Jump now!”

Somehow Sasuke’s now doll proportion arms caught Sakura despite her now huge head. He set her down and started looking for the exit. There was no way they could push the kitchen door open, and he didn’t even want to see Kiba at the moment. It was so hot in the kitchen, he just wanted to get out of there.

“Sasuke! There!” Sakura pointed across the kitchen to the backyard. The doggy door.

“Fucking score! Let’s go.”

He grabbed her hand and they scurried across the tile as fast as their little legs could take them. But they needed to climb up a small threshold to get through the door, and the run combined with the heat of the kitchen had really drained them. They exchanged a look. Desperate times called for desperate measures. Akamaru’s dog bowl was full of water.

“Give me a boost!” Sakura told Sasuke as they faced the metal bowl. The way the metal warped their reflection made her feel even more tripped out, if that was possible. She just needed water now.

Sakura climbed up onto Sasuke’s clasped hands, grabbing onto the edge of the bowl. She held herself up on the edge and dipped her head to take a cool, refreshing drink.

Except her mouth encountered strands of white dog hair floating all around the water. She nearly toppled backwards as she tried to spit it all out, “ew, ew! Disgusting!”

Sasuke lowered her and asked as if it wasn’t already apparent, “so I’m guessing I shouldn’t drink the dog water?” She shook her head, “let’s just go outside.”

They walked to Kiba’s lawn and collapsed. It seemed like the sprinklers had just finished their cycle, so the cool, wet grass was a welcome change from the stuffy kitchen. “Sorry for dragging you here. I didn’t think it would be like this,” Sakura spoke quietly. Sasuke was a bit of a homebody to say the least, so when he didn’t have a good time during their outings, she always felt guilty for pushing him too far for comfort.

But he didn’t care as much as she always thought he did, he just enjoyed spending time with his girlfriend. They would both cherish these memories in the future since they were attending separate colleges. “It wasn’t that bad. Makes for a good story, I guess.”

Except the night wasn’t over, because a deep growl sounded from the shadowy corner of the yard.

Sakura bolted up, “Akamaru?!” before Sasuke dragged her back down, “are you trying to get us eaten? Keep quiet and just run!” Sasuke pointed to the side gate and without another word, they made a break for it. They didn’t bother locking the gate up again, too intent on getting the fuck out of there.

Sasuke took one look at his car and said, “nope. I’m not getting in that thing. We’re still coming down and it’s not safe. What if I get a DUI? What if we die? My dad would kill me either way.” Sakura nodded along as they started walking down the street, not another soul in sight.

Konoha wasn’t a huge town, despite never visiting Kiba’s house before, they could easily make their way back. “Hey, the park isn’t that far away. We could go sober up there then come back for your car?”

----

It seemed like whatever Shino gave them had mostly worn off during their walk and their stone bench looked more inviting than ever. They had shared countless moments there, from their first kiss, to their first “I love you”. They even opened their college acceptance letters there. Sakura swung her legs back and forth on the bench, “You know, I still have the edible in my bag. Should we?”

Sasuke ran a hand through his midnight hair, “Jesus fuck, alright. We’ve gotten this far and I know you wanted to try it. We can split it.”

They had been sitting and talking for quite some time when Sakura started giggling more and feeling some type of way. “Woah. Is this why half our classmates came to school high everyday? What have we been missing?”

Sasuke’s eyes were half lidded as he slouched on the bench, “maybe Naruto is actually onto something. We should call him. Haha. Naruto. What a loser.”

Sakura started patting around her pockets to call their friend, “Sasuke. I think I left my phone in my cardigan pocket, which we left on the kitchen floor. Fuck, I’m so stupid,” but she was still laughing a little and Sasuke just shrugged. “It be like that. I left mine too. We can get them later and we can call Naruto later. Life is so chill.”

Sakura smiled, “exactly, it really do be like that. And life is so chill. Like woah. Are you hungry by the way?” Sasuke perked up a bit and nodded, “starving. Ichirauku is just around the corner.”

----

Sitting in the vinyl Ichiraku booth waiting for their cheeseburgers, Sakura was relieved to be somewhere she’s familiar with. But then she spotted a face she’s very familiar with after years of sleepovers and flower shop visits: Ino’s dad. She ducked down started tapping her palm the table, “Sasuke, don’t look, don’t look, it’s Ino’s dad. This is terrible, he’s like a fucking mind reader or something he’s totally gonna know we’re high.”

“Can you stop, he’ll look this way if you keep making noise. Just be chill or something.” He couldn’t help but steal a glance over his shoulder to confirm if it really was Inoichi. “Holy shit, wait. Is that Shikamaru’s dad?”

Sakura craned her neck to see over Sasuke’s head, “it totally is! And they’re with Chouji’s dad too! This is crazy. If they see us they’re gonna tell my mom. And then I’ll be on permanent house arrest.” She sank lower into her chair until her pink head rested on the table.

Sasuke placed his chin on his folded hands. He had endured enough shenanigans for one night, it was time to just wait this one out. Once he got his cheeseburger with extra tomatoes he was ready to go home and knock out.

Except Chouza’s laugh carried across the diner, and so did his booming voice, “just like the old days, right guys? We still get the munchies!”

Sakura perked back up when she heard this, “did he just say the munchies? Oh my god, Sasuke they’re high. They probably smoked weed and now they’re here because they have the munchies. Just like you and me. This night is too fucking weird.”

Thankfully as the trio of dads was about to walk out with their food to-go, the waitress arrived with their order and blocked them from view. The pair ate in relative silence, glad for a moment of calm. But it didn’t last because not long after the dads left, another familiar figure walked in.

“Sakura, you’ll never fucking believe it. Actually just look, it’s Kakashi.”

She whipped around to see that it really was none other than their favorite literature teacher. She waved him over without thinking twice and Sasuke kicked her under the table. “What are you thinking,” he grits out. Kakashi was cool, hell, cool enough to let everyone call him by his first name, but he was still their teacher. An adult who worked for their school. Someone who could totally get them in trouble. Like, worse than detention, and they’d never even had detention.

“If it isn’t my favorite students,” Kakashi smiled as if seeing them outside of school was a perfectly normal occurrence. “What are you doing here?” Sakura questioned innocently, as if it wasn’t well into the night and she didn’t reek of weed.

“Picking up some food,” he answered matter-of-factly. “I could ask the same of you two, you’re normally home studying at this time of night, am I wrong?” Nope, he was 100% correct.

Sasuke chose his words carefully, “tonight has been an anomaly. But I am ready for bed now.” Kakashi nodded, “I see. You look like you’re done eating, so it won’t be long now. Drive carefully.”

The students exchanged a look before Sasuke swallowed his pride and started to beg as best as he knew how, “please, can you drive us home, we walked here from somewhere else and I don’t feel comfortable operating a motor vehicle in my currention condition, if you know what I mean.” Kakashi considered the two of them. They were certainly acting strange. Was Sakura trying to wink at him or was that a nervous twitch?

His eyes crinkled, “one ride won’t hurt, it’s late and what kind of teacher would I be if I left my students out to fend for themselves? I’ll just pick up my order and we can leave.”

----

They got situated in the car, just to find their former elementary school teacher Iruka sitting in the passenger seat. Sakura’s jaw dropped as she looks between Kakashi and Iruka. “You,” she points to the gray haired man, “and you?” she points to the ponytailed man. “Huh,” added Sasuke, “I thought Iruka hated tardiness, but Kakashi is late to class everyday.”

“Honey,” Iruka laughed nervously, “did you not tell your students about us? You always call them your precious students, I mean, I thought you’d tell at least these kids and Naruto.”

“Yeah,” jeered Sakura from the back seat, “what other secrets are you hiding Kakashi?”

“Sakura, shut up, shut up, Naruto texted me to come over now. He has something really cool to show us—or so he says. I wanna see, plus he owes us for sending us to Kiba’s. Kakashi take us to Naruto’s instead.”

Kakashi sighed, “I’ve seen some shit being a teacher, but I never thought I’d become a chauffeur for my students. But alright.” He made a U-turn and headed to Naruto’s. He had been there plenty of times, seeing as Minato was the school principal and something of a mentor to Kakashi.

----

After a car ride filled with the Mamma Mia soundtrack (Iruka claimed it was neutral territory, everyone loves it), they finally got dropped off at Naruto’s. They knocked on the door, ready for whatever surprise Naruto had to show them. When he flung the door open, they had never seen their friend so excited. His blue eyes were sparkling, “hurry! My room!” and he scurried into the house before they could even take their shoes off.

Naruto’s room was already quite a sight to behold considering the orange color scheme and ramen cups littering his desk, but his new orange quilt wasn’t what had Sakura screaming. “Why the fuck do you have a fox? Is that legal? Where did you get that thing?”

The blonde sniffed, “excuse me, ‘that thing’ has a name. Say hi to Kurama. Isn’t he a cutie?” Sasuke crossed his arms. Yup, their best friend had lost his mind. Even the fox’s collar and ID tag were orange. “And just what do you plan on doing with a fox, idiot?”

Naruto considered this for a moment, “I dunno. Didn’t think that far. I got it from this guy I know. Do you think Suna State allows pets in the freshman dorms?” Sasuke pinched the bridge of his nose. Hopeless, he was really hopeless. And then he remembered how Naruto had let them down earlier, but he didn’t think it was because he had acquired a new pet. “What was that all about earlier? How do you not have weed?”

“Oh yeah! I have something else to show you! It’ll explain everything. Come into the basement. Say bye to Kurama first.” Sakura half-heartedly waved at the rather grumpy looking fox in his cage before they followed Naruto down below.

----

There was no way the universe wasn’t fucking with them. “Sai? Why the hell are you in Naruto’s basement?”

“So rude, Saucey-k! He’s my guest, you’re a pest! And he’s painting, duh.” Their very strange and very pale friend was sitting in front of a giant canvas that nearly stretched the entire span of the wall. He was adding details to what looked like a picture of Naruto in a loincloth. He was lounging on his side, eating grapes with one hand, and petting a fox with the other.

“Yeah no shit, I can see that,” Sasuke quipped, “but why?” Naruto huffed at him again, like it was obvious, “he needs money for his college tuition, so I commissioned him to paint me and Kurama. I’m looking pretty sexy, right?” Sakura didn’t bother answering him, “how does this ‘explain everything’, though?”

Naruto snapped two finger guns at them, “oh, right! Sai is an artist. And he does his best work when he’s high. He obviously needed a lot of weed to complete this masterpiece, so I gave him all my weed. It’s like, paying it forward or something.” If at all possible, Sasuke was even more irritated than before. He couldn’t spare a gram for his lifelong best friends, but he could give it all to this guy? Traitor.

“Well, now that you’ve seen it, we should leave Sai to work in peace. Looks amazing, cutie! Kurama, we’re coming back up, did you miss me already?”

---

“Wanna pet him? He’s only bit me six times in the last hour, I think he really likes my vibe or something.” Before either of them could protest, Naruto started opening the cage. “Kurama, come here, come here. Who’s a good boy? Who wants to get pet?” His arms made a circle for Kurama to settle into when the fox started stalking towards the cage door. He pounced through the gap in Naruto’s arms and hit the ground running.

“Kurama, wait! We were just becoming such good friends! Come back here!” The trio immediately chased after the animal, but he was too fast and he escaped out of their doggy door and into the night. They rushed into the backyard just in time to see Kurama leap over the fence and out of the Uzumaki property.

They all plopped down onto the grass and Naruto started wailing, “he’s gone! What did I do wrong? Please, you guys we have to find him!” They definitely weren’t high anymore, they were too tired for this, but they weren’t shitty friends, so they agreed to go look for him.

----

They had even enlisted Sai to help them out. As they walked around Naruto’s neighborhood calling for Kurama, Naruto’s phone started ringing, “do you think Kurama is calling? He wants to come home!” He started excitedly fishing his phone out of his front pocket, “Kiba? Why would he be calling now?” Sasuke and Sakura settled on the sidewalk, expecting some weird conversation between dealers.

“You found him? Holy shit man! Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there soon! Thanks bro!” he hung up the phone and faced his friends, “Kiba found Kurama! Let’s go, we have to go now before Kurama starts missing me too much!”

And they were headed back to the place where the night had begun.

----

Thankfully Kiba only lived a few blocks away because Sakura’s feet were dragging with exhaustion. They were standing in Kiba’s backyard and she leaned against Sasuke’s shoulder as they listened to the explanation. The back gate was mysteriously left open, and Akamaru wandered out into the front yard. He was having a relaxing evening chewing a bone on the front lawn when a fox appeared. It seemed that the fox smelled Akamaru’s treat bank in the back and wanted a taste for himself. When Akamaru started barking like mad, very peeved that some other animal was trying to get at his precious treats, Kiba went outside to see what was going on. He just thought he was hallucinating since he was super high, but it was really a fox.

“And then I saw he had a tag and it had your name and number!” Kiba finished. Naruto had tears in his eyes, “that’s amazing. Kurama probably smelled Akamaru and just wanted a friend. Friendship is so powerful!” He was hand feeding Kurama treats, who looked much more complacent now that he was being fed.

They all made their way back into the house just as Kiba’s kickback was winding down. Sai disappeared into the kitchen for a while, returning with a cardigan and a jacket. “Ugly, this is a terrible color I’ve only ever seen you wear. And your boyfriend is basically attached to you, so I’m assuming this is his.” Sakura reached out to grab them from his hands before settling back on the couch.

“Thanks again, Kiba. I’m gonna take Kurama home now,” Naruto turned to face Sasuke and Sakura. “You two live in the opposite direction. Are you gonna walk?”

“I can drive.” The whole group looked to the front of the room where the voice came from. “Shino?” asked Sakura, “I didn’t even realize you were still here. And aren’t you high?”

“I’m the supplier and the designated driver.” When he offer any further explanation, Sasuke and Sakura shrugged and got up from the couch. Sasuke could get his car tomorrow. A free ride back to his comfy bed sounded wonderful.

----

Sakura had fallen asleep almost immediately when she got back to her own room, not even bothering to change her outfit. It had to be well into the afternoon when she finally woke up. Her head felt fuzzy and her mouth was dry. Was last night even real?

She grabbed her phone out of her cardigan pocket just to find that it was dead. But her pocket also held a napkin, “what is this? I don’t remember putting this in here?”

She unfolded the white napkin to see one of Sai’s signature ink drawings. It depicted Sakura, drawn in red pen, leaning against Sasuke, drawn in blue pen. He even added a bit of background—it looked like the grass and fence of Kiba’s backyard. He must’ve drawn it when he went into the kitchen. Sakura plugged her phone in and flopped back down onto her bed. She stared at the little drawing, wishing she was with Sasuke right now.

So last night was real.

----

A/N: this isnt meant to make nerds feel bad about staying at home. im writing fanfic so i am the nerd at home

#ssm19d7 #sasusaku month 2019 #my writing #sasusaku

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ormlacom · 7 years

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The Moz 2016 Annual Report

Something every woman should know - WHY MEN LIE!

Posted by SarahBird

I have a longstanding tradition of boring Moz readers with our exhaustive annual reports (2012, 2013, 2014, 2015).

If you’re avoiding sorting the recycling, going to the gym, or cleaning out your closet, I have got a *really* interesting post that needs your attention *right now*.

(Yeah. I know it’s March. But check this out, I had pneumonia in Jan/Feb so my life slid sideways for a while.)

Skip to your favorite parts:

Part 1: TL;DR

Part 2: Achievements unlocked

Part 3: Oh hai, elephant. Oh hai, room.

Part 4: More wood, fewer arrows

Part 5: Performance (metrics vomit)

Part 6: Inside Moz HQ

Part 7: Looking ahead

Part 1: TL;DR

We closed out 2016 with more customers and revenue than 2015. Our core SEO products are on a roll with frequent, impactful launches.

The year was not all butterflies and sunshine, though. Some of our initiatives failed to produce the results we needed. We made some tough calls (sunsetting some products and initiatives) and big changes (laying off a bunch of folks and reallocating resources). On a personal level, it was the most emotionally fraught time in my career.

Thank the gods, our hard work is paying off. Moz ended the year cashflow, EBITDA, and net income profitable (on a monthly basis), and with more can-do spirit than in years past. In fact, in the month of December we added a million dollars cash to the business.

We’re completely focused on our mission to simplify SEO for everyone through software, education, and community.

Part 2: Achievements unlocked

It blows my mind that we ended the year with over 36,000 customers from all over the world. We’ve got brands and agencies. We’ve got solopreneurs and Fortune 500s. We’ve got hundreds of thousands of people using the MozBar. A bunch of software companies integrate with our API. It’s humbling and awesome. We endeavor to be worthy of you!

We were very busy last year. The pace and quality of development has never been better. The achievements captured below don’t come even close to listing everything. How many of these initiatives did you know about?

Part 3: Oh hai, elephant. Oh hai, room.

When a few really awful things happen, it can overshadow the great stuff you experience. That makes this a particularly hard annual report to write. 2016 was undoubtedly the most emotionally challenging year I’ve experienced at Moz.

It became clear that some of our strategic hypotheses were wrong. Pulling the plug on those projects and asking people I care deeply about to leave the company was heartbreaking. That’s what happened in August 2016.

As Tolstoy wrote, “Happy products are all alike; every unhappy product is unhappy in its own way.” The hard stuff happened. Rehashing what went wrong deserves a couple chapters in a book, not a couple lines in a blog post. It shook us up hard.

And *yet*, I am determined not to let the hard stuff take away from the amazing, wonderful things we accomplished and experienced in 2016. There was a lot of good there, too.

Smarter people than me have said that progress doesn’t happen in a straight line; it zigs and zags. I’m proud of Mozzers; they rise to challenges. They lean into change and find the opportunity in it. They turn their compassion and determination up to 11. When the going gets tough, the tough get going.

I’ve learned a lot about Moz and myself over the last year. I’m taking all those learnings with me into the next phase of Moz’s growth. Onwards.

Part 4: More wood, fewer arrows

At the start of 2016, our hypothesis was that our customers and community would purchase several inbound marketing tools from Moz, including SEO, local SEO, social analytics, and content marketing. The upside was market expansion. The downside was fewer resources to go around, and a much more complex brand and acquisition funnel.

By trimming our product lines, we could reallocate resources to initiatives showing more growth potential. We also simplified our mission, brand, and acquisition funnel.

It feels really good to be focusing on what we love: search. We want to be the best place to learn and do SEO.

Whenever someone wonders how to get found in search, we want them to go to Moz first. We aspire to be the best in the world at the core pillars of SEO: rankings, keywords, site audit and optimization, links, location data management.

SEO is dynamic and complex. By reducing our surface area, we can better achieve our goal of being the best. We’re putting more wood behind fewer arrows.

Part 5: Performance (metrics vomit)

Check out the infographic view of our data barf.

We ended the year at ~$42.6 million in gross revenue, amounting to ~12% annual growth. We had hoped for better at the start of the year. Moz Pro is still our economic engine, and Local drives new revenue and cashflow.

Gross profit margin increased a hair to 74%, despite Moz Local being a larger share of our overall business. Product-only gross profit margin is a smidge higher at 76%. Partner relationships generally drag the profit margin on that product line.

Our Cost of Revenue (COR) went up in raw numbers from the previous year, but it didn’t increase as much as revenue.

Total Operating Expenses came to about ~$41 million. Excluding the cost of the restructure we initiated in August, the shape and scale of our major expenses has remained remarkably stable.

We landed at -$5.5 million in EBITDA, which was disappointingly below our plan. We were on target for our budgeted expenses. As we fell behind our revenue goals, it became clear we’d need to right-size our expenses to match the revenue reality. Hence, we made painful cuts.

I’m happy/relieved/overjoyed to report that we were EBITDA positive by September, cashflow positive by October, and net income positive by November. Words can’t express how completely terrible it would have been to go through what we all went through, and *not* have achieved our business goals.

My mind was blown when we actually added a million in cash in December. I couldn’t have dared to dream that… Ha ha! They won’t all be like that! It was the confluence of a bunch of stuff, but man, it felt good.

Part 6: Inside MozHQ

Thanks to you, dear reader, we have a thriving and opinionated community of marketers. It’s a great privilege to host so many great exchanges of ideas. Education and community are integral to our mission. After all, we were a blog before we were a tech company. Traffic continues to climb and social keeps us busy. We love to hear from you!

We added a bunch of folks to the Moz Local, Moz.com, and Customer Success teams in the last half of the year. But our headcount is still lower than last year because we asked a lot of talented people to leave when we sunsetted a bunch of projects last August. We’re leaner, and gaining momentum.

Moz is deeply committed to making tech a more inclusive industry. My vision is for Moz to be a place where people are constantly learning and doing their best work. We took a slight step back on our gender diversity gains in 2016. Ugh. We’re not doing much hiring in 2017, so it’s going to be challenging to make substantial progress. We made a slight improvement in the ratio of underrepresented minorities working at Moz, which is a positive boost.

The tech industry has earned its reputation of being unwelcoming and myopic.

Mozzers work hard to make Moz a place where anyone could thrive. Moz isn’t perfect; we’re human and we screw up sometimes. But we pick ourselves up, dust off, and try again. We continue our partnership with Ada Academy, and we’ve deepened our relationship with Year Up. One of my particular passions is partnering with programs that expose girls and young women to STEM careers, such as Ignite Worldwide, Techbridge, and BigSisters.

I’m so proud of our charitable match program. We match Mozzer donations 150% up to $3k. Over the years, we’ve given over half a million dollars to charity. In 2016, we gave over $111,028 to charities. The ‘G’ in TAGFEE stands for ‘generous,’ and this is one of the ways we show it.

One of our most beloved employee benefits is paid, PAID vacation. We give every employee up to $3,000 to spend on his or her vacation. This year, we spent over half a million dollars exploring the world and sucking the marrow out of life.

Part 7: Looking ahead

Dear reader, I don’t have to tell you that search has been critical for a long time.

This juggernaut of a channel is becoming *even more* important with the proliferation of search interfaces and devices. Mobile liberated search from the desktop by bringing it into the physical world. Now, watches, home devices, and automobiles are making search ubiquitous. In a world of ambient search, SEO becomes even more important.

SEO is more complicated and dynamic than years past because the number of human interfaces, response types, and ranking signals are increasing. We here at Moz are wild about the complexity. We sink our teeth into it. It drives our mission: Simplify SEO for everyone through software, education, and community.

We’re very excited about the feature and experience improvements coming ahead. Thank you, dear reader, for sharing your feedback, inspiring us, and cheering us on. We look forward to exploring the future of search together.

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