#i just really want more dog sitting experience and to sit in on training sessions with other people over the next few years

[jimmystrudel]

5 year dog plan updates: I think I've identified a breed (and 3 potential breeders), I have more clearly figured out what I don't want and what my life style will not fit and most important I need more experience with dogs in general

[fruitless-vain]

hi! do you have any ideas on how to reward a dog who doesn't have any strong motivators? Treats are the only thing that work but he doesn't really care if there is something else he wants, doesnt care for toys, pets are ignored. I just have no idea what other rewards could be used

Id take a good look at Why the dogs motivation seems to be lacking, what environment it tanks in, and ensure to keep an eye out for things like stressors, overstimulation, fear, met needs, and other variables that may impact a dog’s comfort taking treats or exhibiting play behaviour. Things like illness or pain should also be considered as a factor for a lack of motivation (schedule their annual and take a good look at their behaviour and their movement- do they sit sloppy, pop hip often, hunch back, etc. these can all be more overlooked signs of pain!). Breed can also be a factor as some are more self motivated than people pleasing so their motivation tends to just look a bit different!

I'd also be curious to know if this dog has always been disinterested or if this has cropped up over time. A common factor for decreasing motivation is the fact that training itself has become unfun. Usually as a result of asking too much of the dog too fast, not paying them adequately for the work they're doing, working in far too complicated settings, too many competing reinforcers, getting frustrated during the session, using rewards to lure a dog towards feared things or simply having training sessions run on for too long where the dog then ends sessions feeling bored or tired. This can cause even the most active dog to become averse to training as a whole which can present itself as an aversion or lack of interest in many common rewards.

Additionally see what sorts of environments the dog is comfortable being rewarded in, perhaps they take treats okay in a certain room of the home but not outside. This can give us a lot of info and allow us to start in an environment they can succeed in and gradually shift to other environments with more complex challenges (like the competing reinforcers you mentioned)

Reinforcers can be Anything the dog actually wants. The sky is really the limit here. I can stick a treat in every dogs mouth and it’s not going to help anything if the dog itself doesn’t find that treat rewarding. Some options might be:

Treats- experiment with different types and textures. Smelly cheeses, hotdog, and sausage are common high value snacks that can help increase motivation in difficult situations but all dogs are different and some might find a satisfying crunch of a crispy biscuit more rewarding. Try new things and see what they gravitate towards. Additionally watch the way you deliver the reward, a common mistake is to push the treat in towards the dog's nose- this can be off-putting as you add spatial pressure which over time can cause a dog to refuse to take treats altogether. Instead try to offer the treat a distance away from their nose so they step towards it to take it (also watch for things like the way you hold your hand, some dogs may find a hand looming down with the treat threatening while a hand held below nose level with the palm up to be nicer to take treats from). You can also deliver treats in more engaging ways instead of just handing it to them. Toss it in the air for them to catch, roll it along the floor to chase, scatter a few pieces in grass, have them chase and follow the hand for a bit prior to releasing the treat. Make getting the treats a whole Experience!

Toys- rubber toys, canvas, biting, chasing, squeakers, tug. There's a ton of options. Not all dogs like playing in the middle of training as it breaks their focus but others live for it. While not for every dog I will say that playing is a good measure for a dog's comfort. If, for example, you can play tug indoors and have a fun time but the dog is unable to play tug at all outdoors that tells us the dog doesn't feel comfortable enough to exhibit that behaviour. That's information we can use!

Petting- Not my favourite thing to use, affection isn't really something you want to be bargaining off in exchange for favours but it has its uses. A fearful dog may love some pets to help comfort them and reduce that fear response, some affection can also go a long way in just grounding your dog and keeping a training session light and fun. A bit of a social fun break. There's definitely some dogs that can appreciate a pet as a reinforcer and they can work in a pinch if other reinforcers aren't available.

Sniffs- Not something you want to overuse as sniffing is a fundamental part of how dogs explore the world but an excellent way to shift to self reinforcing fundamentals like loose leash walking. Most dogs love a good sniff, your hound types especially, and you can use that to your advantage as you ask for a behaviour and then release them to go snuffle away. Sniffing is also a calming behaviour that can reduce heart rate and build confidence in their environment which can reduce issues like not taking treats outdoors in the first place.

Speed- A lot of dogs find human walking paces slow and frustrating (a common cause for leash pulling) so you may find that in outdoor environments you can reward your dog by simply jogging for a short burst. The speed is fun and enticing and as such can often become quite the powerful reward.

Personal play + Volume - Whether this be the opportunity to howl and bark or you getting loud and excited with them. Sometimes a dog may not be interested in toys but they may be interested in your engagement. This might be baby talking to them in a happy tone or fully getting down on their level to wrestle and bop around or perhaps running away and having them chase you. A different way to initiate play for those disinterested in toys.

Premack's Principle - When you are dealing with competing reinforcers most people will find they lose this battle where whatever you have is not as valuable as what the dog actually wants (chasing a squirrel perhaps). In many cases you cannot fight instinct and genetics with a piece of cheese. At least not without prepwork. This is where Premack's Principle comes in to play, where a dog is able to do a less desirable behaviour (ignoring the squirrel) in exchange for a more desirable behaviour (getting to go chase the squirrel). You can use the thing you're struggling with to reinforce what you'd rather see. Another example may be having your dog a distance away from other dogs, waiting for eye contact and then releasing them to go greet the dog. Over time this could cause an exciteable greeter to offer frequent eye contact to you whenever they spot a dog in anticipation of getting to go greet the other dog which is a nice alternative to barking or pulling. Practically everything your dog would Rather Be Doing you can use as a reward for what You would rather they be doing.

I'd also take a look in to "engagement games" online, there should be a load of force free resources out there for ways to make yourself more engaging and fun which can really help in encouraging a dog to be more excited to train. Strong foundations in how they view interacting with you and training as a whole can really go a long way in impacting motivators and training results.

There's a whole lot more to consider and a ton of more complex things that could be at play but without knowing your dog personally I'll leave this here for you to ponder and play with!

[trebuchet151]

Oh I have a few more questions about Corey if you don't mind!

What are their relationship like with each of the rangers + Mortum + HG?

How did they react to Chen's revelation that he was suspicious about his death after HB and choose to not investigate it further? I know for my step it was very traumatic.

Been sitting on this one for a bit trying to think up good responses. Replayed it a couple times trying to narrow things down too lol

I'd love to share more about Corey!

Under a cut for length

Relationship between Corey and the Rangers/Mortum/HG:

Ortega

Corey and Ortega were as together as sidestep was willing to get pre heartbreak incident, which was complicated. Ortega never pushed for more out of respect for their boundaries and worry about scaring them away (they were head over heels in love with each other. But sure, best friends that kiss it is). When they reunite, Corey is initially hesitant to open up out of concern their old feelings will come back and they wont be able to focus on their goal as heartbreak (correct). The romantic tension comes back with a vengeance, and Corey and Ortega get together again. If you look up "ride or die" in the dictionary, there's a photo of these two. A relationship they both agree is worth sacrificing their morals for. EXTREMELY codependent. Corey very quickly loses steam on their turn-villain-get-angry plans once they reconnect with Ortega. Now they really just want to be Sidestep again. They feel very vindicated that Ortega cares about them/ believes in their cause enough to be willing to "switch sides" and break them out post crash.

Chen

Corey has always been anxious around Chen bc of how obvious his suspicion was. Historically very very worried about being found out due to Chen digging for information (still not convinced that isn't how the special directive found Sidestep in the first place). Realizes during retribution that he was only trying to protect Ortega and is starting to warm up to him/be friendly (which Chen ruins very quickly by admitting that he knew the whole time and did nothing). Lot's of camaraderie around the shared experience of soldier/people shaped weapon with chronic pain and trauma that loves dogs. They'd be best friends if they could stop antagonizing each other. Both at least acknowledge the potential friendship there, even if neither are willing or able to pursue it by the end of Retribution.

Argent

Corey really likes argent, but the feeling is NOT reciprocated. She thinks they're selfish and a coward. They piss her off in pretty much every interaction they have during Rebirth and Retribution. Once she finds out Corey is the one that possessed her, her irritation with them turns to hate. This relationship is probably not salvageable. (Romanced her once, had to change almost everything about Corey's personality and fighting style to get her to like them lol) Respects her even more after she scars their face post-reveal. Thinks she had every right to hurt them and admires the restraint it took to not blind them. Reminds Corey of themself. 

Herald

Corey Does Not like Herald at first. Only when he reveals that he genuinely enjoys their company and isn't just being a Sidestep fanboy do they change their mind. Goes from being nice out of pity/guilt to actually caring about/ wanting to protect him over the course of their training sessions. Being around Herald's unrestrained positivity has an effect on Corey's mental state similar to how they feel around dogs. Mr sunshine is contagious. Corey's starting to realize that's a front and that they should keep an eye on him. They're worried about his mental health (immense guilt over being the reason he's hurt). Bursts into tears mid apology when Herald comes to confront guiltystep in the hospital. Reminds Corey of Anathema.

Mortum

Corey and Dr Mortum get on like a housefire. They briefly flirted as the puppet before things got serious with Ortega, then broke it off to just be friends (If I weren't such a sucker for the decade long slow burn friends to lovers, Mortum would beat Ortega for favorite romance). They have admitted to being a re-gene to Dr Mortum and desperately want to make the friendship work (that Mortum didn't immediately kill them or turn them in has Corey smitten. The bar is on the floor). Using mirror image puppet for Ortega romance purposes in canon route, but the coming out scene with Mortum and a questioning step happens regardless of the puppet gender in my head. Corey really needs to vent about their dysphoria to somebody. The amount of trust Corey needed to out themselves as a re-gene to a "well connected scientist" like Dr Mortum is crazy. Especially with how horrible their medical trauma/anxiety is. Hopefully Mortum knows how big of a deal that was and they can reunite soon. 

Hollow Ground

Corey and HG have a very tense but amicable professional relationship. Undecided on the canon route here, but either 1. They saw and resisted HGs threads without getting caught, and intend to use that to manipulate HG in the long run. Or 2. They were their usual defiant little shit self and refused to shake hands, and know nothing about the threads. Trying to figure out the various ways to keep the subtle manipulation stat high enough to see the threads without losing other story moments I like for them. As much as Corey would like to stay detached and hate HG for how many people he's hurt, they secretly love Ortega's theory and hope that its true. They want a loving protective big brother so bad. Intends to hide the re-gene thing from him as long as possible to avoid losing the potential business (and sibling) relationship. Side note: Not my canon route, but I have played through with Hollow Ground as Corey's villain name bc I think it'd be hilarious. Naming yourself after the fake villain your ex is obsessed with only to find out they're real and also you're related is a beautiful comedy of errors waiting to happen.

Regarding Chen's suspicion:

Corey and Chen's relationship had improved dramatically over the course of Revelations, which made the fallout from this even worse. Corey was just starting to think of Chen as a friend rather than a reluctant acquaintance. When he tells them about the photos and that he chose not to investigate further despite knowing what had happened to them, it breaks their heart. Instead of reacting as they usually do (getting angry and lashing out the way Chen expects them to), they just start crying (trauma has NOT made them stronger, they cry a lot easier now and they hate it). Poor Chen was braced for an argument and thinks somehow getting screamed at would've hurt less than seeing them look this defeated. Corey feels betrayed and abandoned, and really wants to hate Chen for not coming to rescue them. After some time to think about it, they realize that also means that even though Chen KNEW they were a re-gene he decided to be friendly toward them anyway. Their friendship will take a long time to rebuild, but its not permanently gone. 

[hashtag-xolo]

Might be a bit of a broad question, but what do you like most about Xolos? What made you choose them as Your Breed? Xolo propaganda please 🤲🤲

Xolos are just really cool dogs. They're ridiculously smart but their version of intelligence looks pretty different from what most people think of. They are pattern seekers. They will find the pattern even you weren't aware of. They will then adhere to that pattern and do their best to make that pattern as efficient as possible. For instance, when Tzapo was first taught was training was he firmly believed that he could hack the system by staring me dead in the eye and offering rapid fire sits that I didn't ask for. "I sat twenty times where's my treats, bitch?" It was so fucking funny and also like... A totally correct and valid conclusion based upon what he knew so far. I realized he would try to predict my next moves based upon repetitive training sessions and skip steps to get to the end after two reps because he knew what the end point was already. After one visit to a new location he would assume we would do the same things again and he would try to replicate that on our next visits. Boy just had this brain for patterns and routine that was ridiculous. And it makes sense - his breed doesn't care about partnering as much as a breed can care. His breed cares about survival skills and not expending extra energy so he looked for the patterns to exploit them. He would intuitively follow our exact path back on a trail by scent - I never taught him this. He just did it because we'll obviously we go back the way we came. And he was also so obviously befuddled if I changed our route on the way back because why would I do something nonsensical like that? We are going back??? I dunno man, their problem solving is just way different than any other dogs I've worked with. They just look at the world in a way that's different than a lab or a shepherd.

Honestly they're closer to terriers which is why I want a terrier too. They're very prey-driven and very independent dogs. They don't need me. And I respect the hell out of that. If my xolo is working with me it's because I made the work worth it to them over the absolutely tantalizing squirrel over there. Which is saying a lot because even Tzpao wanted nothing more than to eat a squirrel. They're intensely prey-driven. And they have a lot of energy. They play hard. They play really loudly and really physically. They love to run so much. Both Tzpao and Nico love the sheer act of running. Tzapo always wanted me to run with him it was adorable. Just to run and to go.

But once they're done doing their own thing they also really really want to be with their person. They're aloof with strangers but their person is their person. They adore you if they have picked you and it's not even separation anxiety. They just would rather be with you than any other person or thing. Like Nico isn't anxious about being away from me now. But his world isn't perfect if I'm not there. I need to share his world with him. Both Nico and Tzpao offered eye contact and check ins outside from the get go because they want to ensure I'm coming along for the experience with them. And once they see I'm there they both like, pick up the pace like "oh yay! We're together! Let's go!" And it's just such an endearing enthusiasm of "it's just you and me and this is perfect" that melts my heart. We're buddies we belong together. They're just so sweet. And they won't share that with anyone else. They'll be friendly sure but no one else gets the same level of affection as their special person. I dunno it's just so sweet.

They're wild and so so sweet and so ridiculously silly as a breed. They do weird shit and find novel solutions to things and they keep you on your toes as a trainer because they will break your system because they're looking for the system. And I love it.

[elvenferretots]

Hi! I really envy the bond your dog and ferret have between them they look adorable! Do they became friends quickly? We have a charming 5yo ferret and now we have a 3mo husky, the ferret seems to be fine around him (during "meeting" sessions, they're not around the entire day), but sometimes he tries to bite the husky's paws in an aggresive way after approaching him.... I don't know if you can give us some advice to try to make him more "relaxed" in these sessions around our husky. Thanks in any case!

I've been sitting on this ask for a little while, because I find it hard to answer on two counts.

The first is that while I've proofed multiple dogs on ferrets and ferrets on dogs, it's really hard to speak on a behavior without seeing it. I can't tell whether your ferret is playing too rough, afraid, resource guarding, or being intimidated/antagonized by the puppy until I can see the behavior in front of me. I could give you general advice for getting your ferret comfortable around dogs, but it's very possible that you would be starting from a different point than the advice was coming from.

The second part that makes this ask hard for me to answer is that I cater the dogs I bring into my home very carefully to insure my ferrets' safety. A good general rule of thumb is that if you'd trust the dog/breed with a baby kitten, you're probably safe trusting it with a ferret. My hard lines in the sand on breeds to never live with my ferrets are large terriers, high prey drive hounds, and especially... huskies.

This isn't to say that your dog and ferret can't have success. I just have had many many clients with huskies whose dogs got on splendidly with cats and puppies, only to one day kill one of their furry housemates they had lived with for years. I see an absurd amount end up in training, the shelter, or even euthanized for this as they hit maturity. They have a high rate of predatory drift and resource guarding in my personal experience that makes me quite wary to risk your ferret's life over trusting my sight-unseen advice.

I am more than happy to help over video if you want extra help with your ferret's body language and working with his manners (biting feet is usually rough play, but again, I can't really say without seeing the behavior). Resources for ferrets are so few and far between.

For your puppy, I would highly recommend seeking out a trainer experienced with huskies if you don't already have one and working on a strong Place and Leave It cue while the little one is little, setting good foundations for interactions with the ferret. At one point, I made a post on how I use those to help build relationship and boundaries with dogs and ferrets. I'll try to either reblog or remake that post. Meanwhile, maybe primitive dogblr has some tips on working with your puppy on cat manners (which usually apply just fine to predators like ferrets)? @darkwood-sleddog @vet-and-wild @wolfmoonjournal

[seraphimart]

Children Recruits

"What the hell is this!" Rose charged through the entrance of Akumu's private office, almost breaking the door off its hinges. She stopped in front of a large desk, her eyes a blaze towards the hulking figure sitting on the chair.

Akumu didn't pay her any mind, not surprised by these antics, and continued to calmly read through reports and files from his other assassins.

"Mind your tone, Scarlette. And those are the new recruits. Did you not read the files?" His eyes shifted from the paper he was reading to Rose, a tired look upon his face.

"Yes, I read them! Why are they KIDS? I will not train literal children to be killing machines." Rose couldn't keep her anger in check, her voice echoing outside the office. It annoyed Akumu how brash Rose can be. No matter how many times he tried to "train" it out of her, she was still the same.

"They have potential in their abilities. Besides, they are all orphans. They had no purpose until I offered one to them, and they took it. They were willing." Akumu waved her accusations away, as if he was just handling a child throwing a tantrum.

"They are children they don't know what we do or have enough experience to even make this decision!" She wasn't going to be the reason why these children go out there and get themselves killed.

"You did," that snapped her out of her thoughts, "when I started training you. When i had offered you the same deal," She clenched her hands into fists, "you took it."

"... I lost my father to a demon who forced me to kill people against my will, oh, and my mother is a monster. But, yeah, great choice I made." She spit out. Every word felt like acid. She tensed up as Akumu sighed deeply. He moved to rub his temples, a headache coming on.

"I am still your father whether you want to accept it or not.. as for your mother, we've already discussed that. It'll take a few more sessions to recreate her as she was. She will be back with us, I promise." Rose was taken back by the soft look in Akumu's eyes when he spoke of his wife. In a way, Rose was unirrationally jealous of it. That softness has never reached his eyes when it was aimed at her, even when he was in a good mood.

"But, if you don't want to train them fine. Tara has been looking for an opportunity to be promoted. I'm sure she's mentioned it's your position she's applying for, yes?" Akumu knew he hit a nerve when he saw that crease on her eyebrow. He leaned back on his office chair, intertwining his fingers together on top of his crossed legs; the look of professional superiority.

Rose wanted to wipe that arrogant look off his face.

When Akumu realized Rose wasn't going to reply, he kept going. Kept pushing.

"She believes you aren't cut out for the position. You've gotten soft, left to many witnesses, and she wants to prove her worth... I've been considering it." He mentioned it so casually as if it wasn't something Rose had to prove her own worth over and over again for.

Rose's flame died out. Her resolve crumbled by that new information.

// Knowing Tara, those kids won't last a week under her care.. I can't let that happen to them.. if that means playing the role of a good dog, then-//

"-fine.."

"What was that? Speak up I did not train you to mumble." He heard every word.

"I said fine! I'll mentor them..." Rose swallowed her pride. It burned all the way down to the pit of her stomach.

"Good girl. I knew we'd come to a compromise. Now leave my office before I have you escorted out."

Akumu picked up a pen and started going through documents again in a show of ignoring Rose, but really, he was relishing in that self loathing look on her face and the power he felt placing her back on her shelf.

In the end, nothing was resolved, and Rose felt more defeated than ever.

[hangryandlazy]

tokyo oct 22 - part 2

Continuing from Oct 31 in Yokohama:

We left the aquarium soon, it was just a very uneasy and underwhelming experience. The most fun was had was taking these photos.

There was absolutely nothing interesting in this mall either. I think we got coffee once again, got a few souvenirs from a shop that sold Betty Boop items, and then we were off once again.

We went to the model train museum, which I was looking forward to bringing my dad to the entire trip, but it turned out much much smaller than anticipated. There were only 2 rooms with a moving miniature railway, and they were much larger in size than the beautifully intricate exhibits we had seen at Small Worlds a few days ago. Maybe it's also because we've been to a proper miniature railway museum in Germany, so we were quite disappointed by this one. It was too educational for our taste, mainly showcasing smaller versions of real trains and lots of reading and learning. There was not much in the souvenir shop that interested my dad either. Absolute bummer.

We stopped by another mall after this, just to pick up more stock of the placenta and vitamin c lip balm that I had gifted to my mom. She loved it, and ended up buying many other items at the store haha. We didn't end up trying the takoyaki shop on the way back that I had wanted to, so Alan and I got dropped off at a specialty grocery shop near our hotel and my parents went back to their room first.

Not much interested me at the grocery shop, I was starting to get really bummed that the day was unsuccessful... We walked back to Aman, decompressed a little bit, and then headed out once again to meet Sayo for dinner. It's been 3 years since we last talked or hung out! The previous time I had seen Sayo was in Tokyo as well, when we last visited her. She brought us to a yummy and high class soba restaurant hahaha where she and Alan decided to do a sort of sake buffet tasting. Each time they ordered sake, 3 glasses from different brands would arrive. I guess that was our Halloween haha, very tame now.

After dinner, we walked around a little bit together, just chatting and catching up and shooting the shit. It was lovely to get to see her again, and I will miss the little monkey! We went back to our hotel and decompressed properly for our last day in Tokyo.

Nov 1:

First item on our agenda today was PIGNIC CAFE. This is in all caps because it was a dream come true hahahah. It's a pig cafe close to Yoyogi Park, where we are allowed to hang out with pigs in a small private room. It was sooo much fun to be in there, although the pigs really squeal and they like to nibble. One of them bit through the corner of my mom's t-shirt hahahha. Alan was an expert pig masseuse, and at one point, both piggies climbed on to my lap and I was in heaven.

The piggies are sooo well-trained, they know to go to their little litter box corner to do their business. There were also baby pigs sleeping in a little corner, huddling with one another and overlapping each other much like dogs do.

Chaos hahahhaha Peep that piggy in the background trying to bite my phone strap

This little munchkin climbed on to my mom's lap and spent 80% of our session sleeping there. 🥺 So sweet! I was unabashedly jealous.

After the pig cafe, we went our separate ways to do some shopping. Alan and I went to Rikugien Garden that was a little out of the way because I wanted to look for amazake, a delicious and sweet fermented rice drink that is not as popular as I think it deserves to be! There is a really famous place to have amazake, but unfortunately it is closed on Tuesdays and I missed this vital piece of information! So we found a gorgeous park that supposedly also sells amazake at one of its food stalls.

Look how beautiful!

We went in, walked around and noticed immediately how much more beautiful it was than the park we visited in Yokohama. I noted to Alan that I wish we just brought my parents here instead of making them sit for an hour-long ride to Yokohama. The first food stall that we walked into only served matcha and sweets, so we ordered a small set each and sat there enjoying the view. I was VERY disappointed that amazake was not available, and was super annoyed at myself for not having planned better. But Alan helped keep me calm and made sure I enjoyed the rest of the day anyway.

We enjoyed the matcha and sweets in this peaceful setting.

We walked around the rest of the park, since we had made it all the way to this part of town. We saw a really cool, bright orange-colored tree, and then from the corner of my eye I noticed another food stall. I told Alan it looked familiar (from the photos I had seen on Google when I was searching for amazake) and as we walked closer I knew we had the jackpot. To say I was elated was an understatement. Amazake was perfect for this weather, and we had found it!!! This was Alan's first time trying it, and I think he was pleasantly surprised. We ordered another tea set, this time of konjac jelly with miso sauce. Delightful.

We enjoyed this afternoon snack in another part of the park. Wonder why the other stall did not point us in this direction when we were asking about amazake, maybe they're competitors...?

Soooo happy! Yummy in my tummy <3

We went to a Sanrio / Hello Kitty store in Asakusa next, the third Sanrio-themed store on this trip to look for the handkerchiefs that Alan's mom asked us to get for her. They weren't available yet again... So we got her some larger towels and a cute Hello Kitty headband instead.

We took this photo to prove to her that we had really tried our best.

I went to another store to try looking for furikake, but to no avail, so we called an Uber and made our way back to a Sembikiya store close to our hotel, where we bought fruits as souvenirs for Alan's family. It took a LONG time to package, but I can confirm that it was worth the waiting. Those are the best grapes I've ever eaten in my life!!!!

We dropped everything off at the hotel, had a little down time and then we met up with my parents in the lobby to go to our dinner destination. I booked a very traditional kaiseki restaurant for our last meal in Tokyo, called Akasaka Kikunoi. This meal was delicious from beginning to end, with my one and only complaint being that the sea bream sashimi was sliced a bit too thick, so it was tough. Perhaps my only other complaint would be the portion size, again I think it's perfectly acceptable to give tiny portions if there are around 10 courses.... I don't want to waste my quota eating a larger piece of grilled fish when there were still so many dishes to come!

Here are some highlights from our meal :)

Incredible tofu dish. Annoyed that my dad did not give it a chance just because he knew it was tofu... He has definitely eaten tofu before when I withheld that information from him and he finished it, smacking his lips

Incredibly beautiful and intricate kaiseki. The duck liver pate was the best! Along with the monk liver and "mother-in-law chips"

This toro and egg yolk sauce was the highlight of my night! The toro melted in my mouth, and the sauce is to die for. I really wanted to ask if they would package some up for me to bring home....

Lots of soups and hot foods this meal. Perfect for me, but not so perfect for people who are not used to all the indoor heating! It wasn't even that cold yet in the country, very confused about the heating everywhere because it was a bit much.

This was the dish I was referring to when I said smaller portions are ok... It's a grilled piece of fish. Yummy, but I wanted more space and quota for the other dishes after.

Loved this! Persimmon is in season, I wasn't sure if it was supposed to just be a vessel to hold the "salad" but I ate the big persimmon "bowl" as well haha.

This soup was soooo delicious, very thick and full of collagen. It included shark's fin, which I normally wouldn't eat..... But it was already served, it would have broken my heart more if it had just gone into the trash. I also had to eat my mom's portion because she was stuffed by this point.

Maitake rice! We took the leftovers home with us and I actually ate it on the plane the next day hahahh.

Goodbye, Tokyo! You were a real one.

An absolute gem for our first trip since covid. And a truly memorable one. Loved every second (except that one day in Yokohama lol)

Oh, we actually thought we might not be able to fly on Nov 2 due to a typhoon in Hong Kong. Signal #8 was hoisted, which is the second highest possible rating for typhoons. Weirdly enough, there was barely any tolerance on the way back. We also mananged to get this stunning view of Mt Fuji shortly after takeoff!

The PCR tests and daily RAT tests were bearable.... Nothing too difficult. Restrictions are slowly easing up even more now, I'm so excited for things to get back to normal and to travel more again!

[silvfyre-writings]

Aizawa Cares Pt. 16 (MHA Fanfic)

I am super proud of this chapter guys. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Out of all the students that Aizawa had had over the years, Bakugo was one of the most difficult. Well, Midoriya was more trouble, but Bakugo easily won the title purely based on his habit of exploding when his temper got out of control. Sure, he’d had angry students before, but none of them had had a quirk that literally caused explosions. Not that he was saying that Bakugo was a bad student; he was far from it actually. A studious student who got good grades, and worked hard in all his classes. Hell, the kid had even made a few friends since the start of the year, although that probably said more for his class’s persistence than it did for Bakugo’s willingness to have friends. To Aizawa, it seemed that Bakugo had been more than ready to go through the three years of his high school life alone. And in his experience, kids—especially teenagers—didn’t go out of their way to be alone. Even the more introverted students had one or two good friends. Hell, even Aizawa had made a couple of friends in his high school life, if he even dared to call them that.

The moment that Bakugo’s anger issues came to light on the first day of school, he’d merely made a note of it to keep an eye on things and see if the kid’s attitude improved. But as the first few months passed, with the USJ happening in the first week, the training camp happening not long after, and finally, the licensing exam, and it was clear that there was more to Bakugo’s attitude that met the eye. The boy was angry, yes, but there was a difference been volatile and violent. And Bakugo wasn’t violent. The few therapy sessions he’d forced the boy to sit with Hound Dog through had proved that. Quite often, it was the case of another student, usually one not of the Hero Course, pushing Bakugo’s buttons until he lashed out at them that caused most of the problems he was hearing about.

Which of course, always seemed to happen in the cafeteria with its extremely faulty fire alarm system. The system that should’ve long been dealt with, but had been put on hold since the building of the dorms.

If Aizawa got another shower because of that system, he was going to make Nezu suffer through it just to make the principal fix it faster. So naturally, when he’d heard the fire alarm going off as he walked towards the cafeteria that day, he’d sighed and moved faster until he was standing in the entrance, students screaming as they ran from the water cascading from the ceiling. Aizawa sighed, leaning against the wall as he waited for the cafeteria to empty itself, not keen on trying to force his way past the panicking students. Of course, as a teacher, it was his job to do so, but since he already had an idea on what had caused the alarm to go off, he figured that waiting was the best way to go.

Once the cafeteria was empty, Aizawa could see the scene clearly, and wasn’t surprised at all to see Bakugo glaring at another student, one that Aizawa didn’t know, with Kirishima holding his friend back, and the rest of Bakugo’s friends quickly ushering a sparking Kaminari out of the room. He had to give credit to their quick thinking. Dealing with shocked students was never a fun time for anyone involved.

As they rushed past him, Aizawa snagged Jirou by the arm, stopping the girl in her tracks. “Tell me what happened.”

“Oh, Aizawa-sensei!” Jirou blinked, like she’d just realized he was the one who’d stopped her. Okay, maybe he’d have to give another lesson on situational awareness. He watched as Jirou looked back towards Bakugo and let out a sigh. “It wasn’t Bakugo’s fault, sir. He really did try to ignore that support course student; we all did. And it wasn’t even Bakugo that set off the fire alarm this time. That kid’s quirk creates smoke or something which set them off—”

“I’m not upset about the alarm, Jirou.” Aizawa quickly interrupted. “I just want to know what happened so I can handle the situation effectively.”

“Oh, uh… that student was just riling Bakugo up, ya know? A lot of them do it, especially since word got out that Bakugo failed the licensing exam and then got suspended for fighting Midoriya. Rumours spread, and I think they got a little out of hand because the kid was blaming Bakugo for all the attacks against UA, saying that if he’d never come to this school, then maybe they would’ve had a normal school year.”

“I see…” Aizawa let out a sigh of his own, annoyed at teenager’s inability to keep their thoughts to themselves. Honestly, these kids were meant to be heroes or work in the hero industry and were spreading harmful rumours about a fellow student? Ridiculous. “Thank you, Jirou. I’ll take care of things here. Go make sure Kaminari doesn’t electrocute anyone.”

“Yes, Sensei! Thank you, Sensei!” Jirou rushed off in the direction her friends had gone, leaving Aizawa alone to deal with the aftermath.

Dragging every bit of tough teacher act he had within him, Aizawa strode into the room, grateful that the sprinklers had stopped showering the room. If he’d gotten soaked again, he would’ve just let Bakugo blow the school up. “Bakugo. Move away.” Aizawa called as soon as he was close enough. He could see from the tension in Bakugo’s shoulders that he was close to punching the student who was glaring at him, and was proud that his student hadn’t resorted to violence.

Bakugo glanced at him briefly, the tension seeping away as he stepped back until Aizawa was between him and the other student. “I didn’t do shit, Sensei.”

“I know. Jirou told me what happened.” Aizawa said, turning his attention towards the other kid—Jirou had said they were apart of the support course, he remembered—and narrowed his eyes, thoroughly enjoying as the kid realized just how much trouble they were in. “You’re apart of the support course?” The kid nodded. “Okay. You will go to Power Loader and you will tell him what you just did. And I will be talking to Power Loader to make sure you told the truth so don’t you dare try to get out of this.”

“Yes, Sir.” The student mumbled, ducking his head in shame. The kid glanced up and glared at Bakugo behind him. “What about him?”

The disgust in the student’s voice had Aizawa straightening, especially since the kid had the guts to talk back to him in the first place. But it was Power Loader’s job to discipline his students, not Aizawa’s. So he took a deep breath and spoke, his voice icy cold. “Bakugo is my responsibility and will be spoken with. That is all you will know. Now go before I drag you to Power Loader myself.”

The student squeaked and ran out of the room, slipping slightly on the wet floor as he fled the cafeteria. Aizawa watched the empty doorway for a few moments before turning to face Bakugo, his own student glaring at his feet. “Bakugo?” He waited for Bakugo to look up at him. “Are you okay?”

“Tch, I’m fine.” Bakugo scuffed a shoe against the ground. “They were just pissing me off.”

“Did you hit him?” Aizawa hated to ask, but both he and Bakugo knew it was a necessary question. Things had been tense since the fight with Midoriya, and Bakugo knew he was on thin ice as it was.

A single nod had Aizawa lifting a hand to drag it down his face. Just great… Even if Bakugo hadn’t thrown the first punch, he’d still thrown a punch, and that was all that was needed for Power Loader to get upset, even if it was his student that had started the fight in the first place. “Okay. Go get dried off and meet me at the faculty office. We’ll talk there.”

As predicted, Power Loader tracked him down before he could get to the faculty office, and he just listened as the man lectured him about how Bakugo was a problem student that was always picking a fight, and while he accepted that his student was at fault this time, it didn’t help that Bakugo was always so quick to anger and get into a fight if someone upset him, and that Aizawa needed to do better at controlling his student. Aizawa just stared down at the smaller man, nodding at the correct times, waiting for the lecture to end. It wasn’t the first time one of his colleagues had lectured him about one of his student’s behaviours, and it wouldn’t be the last. He found it easier to just let them lecture and then promise to deal with it. Which is exactly what he did. And as Power Loader wandered back to the labs happily, he just shook his head, unable to believe that none of his co-workers could see past Bakugo’s rough exterior.

Right. Bakugo. The kid was probably waiting at the office for him by now. Quickly, he made his way to the office, apologizing to the boy as he entered the room. “My apologies, Bakugo. Power Loader caught me on my way.”

Bakugo was sitting at Aizawa’s desk, slouched in the chair and idly spinning it from side to side. “It’s fine. Is he mad?”

“A little.” Aizawa admitted, choosing to stand for this conversation as it probably wouldn’t be a long one. He’d had so many conversations with Bakugo since the start of the year, they almost had a routine for them by now. “He accepts his student was in the wrong and has punished them, but he also wants you to be punished for failing to hold your temper.”

Bakugo scoffed. “I wouldn’t have a problem if all these fucking extras would just leave me the hell alone. I can’t go one lunch without someone finding a problem with me. It’s bullshit!” The boy was glaring at him now, but Aizawa could tell that the anger wasn’t being directed at him.

“Do your friends do anything?” Aizawa asked.

“I tell them not to, but they do it anyway. Idiots.” Bakugo huffed; a tiny hint of affection noticeable in his voice. “Pikachu got involved this time. Looked ready to punch the idiot, but then something was smoking and the alarms went off, so we knew we had to get him out of there.”

Once again, Aizawa mentally thanked his students for handling Kaminari and his quirk so well. He was almost certain that the situation would’ve been worse if everyone had been electrocuted. Now that he had a better understanding of what had happened, he could deal with it effectively. And he knew that Bakugo wasn’t going to like his suggestion one bit. “I understand that it’s frustrating when the students from the other courses harass you, but you can’t let your temper get the better of you.” Bakugo opened his mouth to interrupt, but Aizawa quickly raised a hand. “You can’t deny that your temper has been getting worse lately, especially since you failed the licensing exam.”

He gave Bakugo a chance to interject, just watching carefully as the kid took in his words and hunched in on himself. So even he’s noticed he’s gotten worse. “Do you want to say anything?”

Bakugo shook his head, refusing to even look at him now.

“I’m not angry at you, Bakugo, but I am concerned. This year hasn’t been the easiest, especially for your class, and yourself even more. And I’m concerned that one day, this temper of yours is going to get the better of you, and not in a good way.”

“Are you suspending me again?” Bakugo’s voice was quiet and unsure, a stark contrast to his usual demeanour. Which showed Aizawa that his student was struggling with something.

“No. You’ll have detention for the next two days for the fight, but you won’t be suspended. Instead, I’m putting you back into counselling.”

“I told you last time that that shit wasn’t helping.” Bakugo growled in frustration.

“I know.” And Aizawa did know, because it was Hound Dog that had come to him and told him he was putting a stop to the counselling sessions with Bakugo, the counsellor insisting that they were doing more harm than good. Aizawa hadn’t been pleased, but had accepted the decision in the end. He knew he was a fool to let those sessions stop. “However, you won’t be counselling with Hound Dog. Instead, it’ll be with me.”

Finally, Bakugo looked up at him, his face wary and interested at the same time. “With you?”

“Yes. Pro heroes are able to get certified in counselling, and while not many do, UA requires all of its teachers to do so in case sessions with the school counsellor are ineffective. Like with you.”

“Oh.” Was all Bakugo said, but he was looking thoughtful now. “Does that mean… you’ll do things differently?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. It all depends on you in the end.” Aizawa answered his student. “I’m confident that we’ll find something that works for you, so long as you’re willing to accept that you need the extra help. If it helps, several of your classmates have accepted counselling from myself, or another teacher they feel comfortable with, so there’s no shame in letting someone else help you out.”

“I know.” Bakugo stopped spinning in the chair, straightening up a little. “Sparky told us all how you helped him. Won’t shut up about it whenever he gets a good grade now.”

Aizawa chuckled. “Well, if it’s worked for Kaminari, then don’t you think it’ll work for you?”

“I guess.” Bakugo let out a reluctant sigh.

“Give it a try at least. And if it doesn’t work then we’ll try something else.” Aizawa encouraged. “Come by the teacher’s dorm on Sunday. We’ll start then.”

“Fine.”

Aizawa was surprised when he found that the counselling sessions between himself and Bakugo were actually making progress. Of course, Bakugo would always be loud and aggressive, but they’d made some progress in the boy controlling his temper. There were slip ups of course, for there were always things that would cause Bakugo to need to take a few steps back before progressing again. He’d noticed the improvement in classes mostly; Bakugo was more respectful of his classmates, actually calling them by their names occasionally rather than some of the more… unflattering nicknames that Bakugo came up with at times. Not only that, but Bakugo actually seemed happier amongst his classmates, engaging with his group of friends a bit more than he usually did.

Even better, was that Iida had come up to him and told him that Bakugo had apologised to Midoriya. What he’d been apologizing for, the boy hadn’t known, but Aizawa had a feeling it had to do with something from the two students’ past. And if Midoriya was more cheerful as a result, he’d consider it a win.

Despite the counselling though, Bakugo’s temper still flared, however he’d encouraged and taught the boy the means of walking away instead of lashing out at whoever tried to pick a fight with him. And Aizawa was proud to see Bakugo actually using his teachings, hearing from other teachers of incidents involving his student that hadn’t ended in violence. There were a few students that could get under Bakugo’s skin—most notably, the kids from Class B, and regrettably, Shinsou—but they were kids that Aizawa could deal with himself. The other classes? Not so much.

The worst setback that Bakugo went through however, was something that Aizawa should’ve dealt with immediately after noticing it before the dorms had been built. But he hadn’t and now he had to deal with the consequences of his failure.

His students had begged and begged to be able to go home and see their families for a few days over the winter break, wanting to spend some time with them for the festivities before school restarted. Aizawa was reluctant to let them leave the school grounds, what with all the trouble they managed to get themselves involved in, yet he also understood why they so desperately wanted to home. Since the construction of the dorms, they’d been forced to stay on the school grounds all year, even during the times when school wasn’t in session. Sure, they could get permission to leave campus, but that was a lot of paperwork to fill out, and he and the rest of the teachers were rather strict with the whole process. They weren’t allowed to be the kids that they were.

So, Aizawa and the rest of the teachers had relented and gone through the process of figuring out how to make things work so that the kids could go home. At first, it had been agreed upon that all the kids would go home for the upcoming weekend so that the teachers could get a break as well, however Aizawa had argued against all the students, because he knew that there were plenty of kids that didn’t want to go home—like Todoroki—so he’d volunteered to stay on campus for those kids.

In the end, they’d come to a conclusion that worked for everyone, and figured out a plan to get the kids to their families safely, and then back to campus two days later. Aizawa wouldn’t admit it, but he was pleased that his class would get some time to go home. He knew that Iida would be pleased in particular, not having seen his older brother since he’d been discharged from the hospital, and that Yaoyorozu would be excited to see her own parents—and sleep in her massive room—back at the mansion he’d heard all about. He’d had to explain to his kids though, that they weren’t allowed to leave their houses unless it was an emergency, or when a teacher came by to collect them on Monday. They’d been a little upset at that, but had agreed in the end.

“I want all of you to thank Ectoplasm for being so kind as to drop you off at your homes today!” Aizawa shouted over the excitement that was his class making sure they had everything before leaving campus for the weekend. “Remember not to dawdle, because he has other classes to escort home as well, not just you lot!”

“Yes, Aizawa-sensei!” Came the chorus from his students.

“And remember, that if there’s an emergency or you want to come back to campus, call me and I’ll meet you at the meeting spots I spoke to each of you about.”

“Yes, Sensei!”

“Okay. Have a good time, and I’ll see you all on Monday.”

“Yes, Sensei! Bye, Sensei!” Aizawa watched with a fond smile as his class left the dorms, nodding to Ectoplasm as his clones each approached a student to begin escorting them home. Once the door was shut, and silence descended upon the dorm, he turned his attention to the one student that had chosen to remain behind.

“You’re fine staying on campus, Todoroki?”

Todoroki shrugged, having planted himself on one of the couches and was currently browsing for something to watch. “It’s fine. Tokoyami and I started watching a new documentary last night, so I’ll probably just finish it.”

“Last night?” Aizawa raised an eyebrow at the insinuation that both boys had been up after curfew. They’re getting sneakier. Good job, but also can’t let them keep doing that. “Couldn’t either of you sleep?”

“Not really.” Todoroki dropped his head onto the back of the couch so that he was looking at Aizawa without moving his body. The position looked positively uncomfortable. “Tokoyami came down later, but I was up all night.”

Aizawa frowned, making his way over to the couch and leaning against the back of it. “How come?”

“My father found out I was staying on campus. He got upset.”

“I see.” Aizawa’s frown increased as he quickly configured a plan should Endeavour try and force their hand in making Todoroki go home. Which he would refuse to do with every bone in his body. Endeavour would have to burn him alive before he let Todoroki back into the man’s custody. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. He can’t do anything if you’re here.” Todoroki blinked at him, which had his heart clenching at the faith his student had in him to keep him safe from the man who should’ve been keeping him safe in the first place. One of these days, he’d rub that in Endeavour’s face.

“Okay.” Aizawa decided in that moment that the paperwork he’d been planning on doing could wait, and sat himself on the couch next to Todoroki. “Show me what this documentary is.”

Aizawa had been looking forward to getting a good night’s sleep now that his students were off campus, so he was surprised and briefly annoyed when he found himself being woken up by the sound of his phone ringing. He let the phone ring for a few more seconds before his brain actually registered what the noise was; then he was rolling over to answer it, worried about what a phone call this late at night could entail. “Hello?” He mumbled, voice still thick with sleep.

“Aizawa-sensei?” Bakugo’s voice came through the speaker, sending Aizawa upright in a flash, his worry spiking immediately.

“Bakugo? Is everything alright?” Aizawa asked.

Silence followed his question, but he knew not to ask again lest Bakugo hang up on him. He knew the boy hated asking for help, so for him to reach out on his own accord, something must’ve happened. Finally, he was rewarded.

“I want to come back to the dorms.” Was all Bakugo said in the end. Aizawa waited for the kid to elaborate, but when it was clear Bakugo wasn’t going to say anything else, he spoke.

“Are you in danger?”

“No.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“I don’t want to.” Bakugo huffed impatiently. “Look, are you coming to get me or not?”

“I’m coming.” Aizawa said quickly, already climbing out of bed to get ready. “Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?”

He could almost hear Bakugo thinking through the phone before the boy finally answered him. “No. How long will you be?”

“Half hour, tops. I’ll hurry.” Aizawa reassured his student, wondering what could’ve gone so wrong in just an afternoon to have the boy wanting to come back to campus.

“Okay.” Bakugo paused for a moment. “Come to the back.”

Before Aizawa could ask why, Bakugo hung up on him. He cursed, pocketing his phone and rushing around his room, throwing on a hoodie and sweatpants, and cramming his feet into a pair of sneakers. There wasn’t time for him to don his hero costume, although he certainly wouldn’t be leaving without his capture weapon. That would just be stupid of him to do. Once he was ready, he made his way down the stairs—he’d been staying in an empty room in 1-A’s dorm while his class was away—and stopped as he noticed a mop of split colored hair passed out on the couch. Aizawa frowned; he couldn’t leave Todoroki on his own, even if it was only for an hour, but he certainly couldn’t bring him with him. Not only would the principal have his head, he didn’t think Bakugo would appreciate it. But if Todoroki woke up while he was gone and panicked, that would be a whole other situation.

He thought about it carefully before making up his mind and walking over to the boy. “Todoroki.” He shook the kids shoulder, gently squeezing his shoulder as Todoroki’s eyes shot open. “It’s me. I need to go pick up one of your classmates, so I’ll be gone an hour.”

Todoroki blinked at him, rubbing his sleep-filled eyes. “Oh. Is everything alright?”

“There’s no danger. But I need you to stay put and not leave the dorm at all while I’m gone, okay?” Aizawa felt guilty for waking Todoroki up when it was clear that the boy wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep.

“I can do that.” Todoroki agreed, rolling away from Aizawa and closing his eyes. “Be safe, Sensei.”

“I will.” Aizawa promised, leaving the boy to get back to sleep, grabbing his capture weapon and leaving the dorm. He made sure it was firmly locked and began the trip to the Bakugo residence. He’d only been there once before, when he and All Might had gone to convince the families of their students to have the kids live in the newly built dorms. And he hadn’t really known what to think of Bakugo’s mother; the woman clearly loved Bakugo, but of what he’d of their relationship; it seemed a little tense at times.

But for now, he’d just get to his student, and speculate on what had happened later.

Because it was so late at night, public transport wasn’t running, meaning that Aizawa had to walk the whole way. Which also meant that to keep to the time he’d told Bakugo, he ended up having to use his capture weapon to clear ground faster. Once Bakugo’s house appeared in his line of sight, he dropped to the ground and walked the rest of the way, heading towards the front door before he remembered Bakugo’s words and silently crept around the side of the house towards the backyard. There was a single light turned on in the house, which must’ve been Bakugo’s room, and Aizawa sent a text to the boy letting him know he had arrived.

He'd been expecting Bakugo to walk through the back door, but instead watched as the window on the second floor opened, Bakugo climbing through it and quietly making his way to the edge of the roof. Aizawa moved to meet his student reaching his arms up to offer his help. Bakugo stopped moving and glared at him, not that Aizawa was phased by it at all, before dropping off the roof into Aizawa’s arms, the fall much gentler than it would’ve been if Bakugo hadn’t accepted his help.

In the limited light, Aizawa studied Bakugo to see how his student was faring, and while the boy looked mildly upset, he didn’t have any marks on him, although that wasn’t to say that there couldn’t be injuries hidden by clothing. “I’ll need to tell your parents I’m taking you.” Aizawa said.

“No need. I told the hag I was calling you.” Bakugo grumbled, glaring at the ground now instead of at his teacher. “I left a note and sent a message in case she ‘forgets’, but she knows.”

Aizawa nodded slowly. At least he wouldn’t be getting an angry phone call from the boy’s mother in the morning once she woke up and noticed her son was gone. He was concerned what had caused such a situation to arise, but he knew he wasn’t going to get any answers from Bakugo tonight. “Okay. Let’s get going then. I left Todoroki alone to come get you.”

“Please tell me he’s not watching that weird documentary shit again.” Bakugo huffed, although Aizawa noticed the boy sounded slightly fond. Maybe there’s hope for friendship between those two yet.

“I think he was. But he’s probably asleep by now.” Aizawa looked over at his student. “I thought it was only him and Tokoyami that watched the documentaries at night.”

Bakugo’s face twisted into one of disgust. “I’ve walked in on them watching some true crime shit before. While eating popcorn.” When he caught Aizawa looking at him, he continued. “Dead bodies. Ripped open. While eating popcorn.”

“I see…” Aizawa didn’t see, but he found it best to just agree in situations like these. His students were weird and he had long accepted that.

Aizawa was thankful that Todoroki was still asleep where he left him on the couch. He ushered Bakugo into the dorm in front of him before closing the door and locking it behind him, and turned towards his student. “Get to bed. You can sleep on the couch if you want, I don’t mind.” He gave the boy a firm look. “But we will be talking about what happened tomorrow, alright?”

He waited for Bakugo to nod before he let the boy go off, watching as Bakugo immediately veered towards the second couch and threw himself onto it, dragging the blanket that rested on the back of it and dragging it over his body. A fond smile grew on his face as Aizawa made his way up the stairs back to his own room, mentally preparing himself for what he could possibly need to say in the morning. Aizawa just hoped that the situation wasn’t as dire as he was thinking.

The morning had Aizawa crawling out of bed and making his way downstairs to check on Bakugo and Todoroki, only to find the two students talking quietly to each other, neither of them having moved from the couches. Aizawa peeked around the corner to see that they were watching something on the television that thankfully wasn’t another documentary. As he walked over, Bakugo looked up at him, and the conversation died off.

“Morning Bakugo, Todoroki.”

“Good morning, Sensei.” Todoroki said. “Bakugo’s going to cook breakfast for us.”

“I am not! Cook your own damn breakfast Icyhot!” Bakugo’s voice was loud, far too loud for the time of morning it was.

“And have you judge my cooking skills? No thanks.” Todoroki huffed.

“Not my fault you cook like a dead person!”

“Dead people can’t cook, Bakugo.”

“That’s my point!”

“Both of you stop. I’ll cook something.” Aizawa interrupted before the argument could get worse. Knowing the two, he wouldn’t be surprised to see quirks thrown around. But as he moved towards the kitchen, he caught sight of the satisfied looks on both boy’s faces and realized he’d been played into making breakfast. Sneaky kids.

Aizawa decided on a simple meal; some eggs, bacon, and toast. If Bakugo and Todoroki wanted anything else, they could get up and cook it themselves rather than coerce their teacher into making it for them. Just as he was about to start cracking eggs, he heard footsteps behind him and looked over to see Bakugo shuffling into the kitchen, looking mildly uncomfortable. He had a feeling he knew why his student had come over, but still patiently waited for him to speak first.

He didn’t have to wait long for Bakugo to say anything. “You said you wanted to talk to me.”

“It can wait until after breakfast if you’d prefer.” Aizawa suggested, only to have Bakugo shaking his head.

“I’d rather do it now.”

Aizawa nodded and offered Bakugo the eggs instead, moving aside to let the boy take his place. “I’ll start by asking what happened to have you call me and sneak you out of your own home.”

“It’s stupid.” Bakugo murmured uneasily. “The Hag and I got upset at each other, and she didn’t like it when I tried to walk away. You know… like you tell me to.”

Aizawa nodded to show he understood. It was one of the things he’d been drilling into Bakugo since they’d started counselling together; walking away from an argument before it could escalate. The fact that his own mother had ignored his attempts had alarm bells ringing. “Did she hit you?”

“No.” Bakugo levelled him with a glare. “She’s rough and yells as much as I do, but she’s not like Icyhot’s sorry excuse for a parent. We’re both hot-headed. That’s all.”

“I see. Yet despite the argument, you felt like you couldn’t stay at home?”

Bakugo paused in cracking the eggs. “Whenever we argue, I go for a walk and put some distance between us. But you told us we couldn’t leave the house, so I called you. I just hid out in my room until you arrived.”

“I’m glad you called.” Aizawa said. He truly was grateful that in the heat of the moment, Bakugo had remembered his words about not leaving the house and followed his instructions to call him if something happened. Sure, he hadn’t expected to be called because of an argument between one his students and their parent, but he also should’ve known that something like that could’ve happened. A memory from long ago, of when he’d first met Bakugo’s mother, crossed his mind and he frowned. He should’ve done something back then, and then maybe this could’ve been prevented.

“Stop thinking so hard, Sensei.” Bakugo growled. “It’s not as bad as whatever scenario you’ve conjured up.”

“Your mother shouldn’t be treating you the way she does though.” Aizawa raised an eyebrow as he stared at Bakugo. “I saw how she treated you after your rescue, and I didn’t do anything about it. And for that, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not.” Aizawa insisted. “And yes, I can agree with you that it’s an entirely different situation to Todoroki’s, it doesn’t mean things can’t change.” Bakugo looked at him with a confused look. “For example, in Todoroki’s situation, he stays on campus during breaks and weekends we send you kids home, unless he chooses to go home. He chose not to this time which is why he’s here. We can always offer you the same option if you’d like. And I can always talk to your parents on your behalf if you feel uncomfortable bringing it up with them.”

Bakugo’s expression turned thoughtful and he was silent as he moved around the kitchen, cooking as if it was something he could subconsciously do. Aizawa waited patiently for the kid to be ready to talk.

“I can do that? Limit how much I see them, I mean?” Bakugo finally asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Of course. It’s up to you how you want to proceed, but regardless of your decision, I will still be talking to them.” Aizawa said.

Bakugo nodded. “Okay. I think… I think I want to do that.” And before Aizawa could say anything, Bakugo waved the spatula menacingly at him. “Now get out of my kitchen!”

He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him as he left the room, already planning the upcoming visit to the Bakugo’s he’d be doing after his meeting with Nezu to discuss Bakugo’s situation. Before he could get to involved in his thoughts, he was interrupted.

“Did he talk to you?” Aizawa blinked as Todoroki spoke, observing the boy’s uneasy expression that he realized was him being worried about his classmate. And Bakugo says they aren’t friends.

“He did. Was shoving me into the kitchen your idea then?” Aizawa asked, sitting beside the boy on the couch.

Todoroki nodded. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“It did. You’re a good friend, Todoroki. I’ll take care of things now.”

Todoroki quickly turned his head away, but not before Aizawa caught the faint smile on the boy’s face. Honestly, from how his kids reacted every time he praised them, he questioned if they’d ever been praised in their lives. But he was proud of how much they looked out for each other, and also how willingly they came to him for help. It showed that he was doing something right, and he would do his best not to break the trust they had in him; instead, he’d do everything in his power to grow that trust.

[abirddogmoment]

I'm not trying to start shit but if telling people why rehoming is bad isn't the way to help empty animal shelters, then what is?

This is a good question! I'll preface by saying that my shelter experience is entirely in Canada, with dogs in Yellowknife, NT and cats in Sudbury, ON. I cannot speak for other areas, and obviously can't talk for the shelter system in the USA.

I'll also say that I'm not against kindly educating people against rehoming, but this needs to be done long before someone makes a decision to rehome a pet (and probably before they even get a pet). If someone is at the point of rehoming a pet, this isn't the time for telling them why they're wrong.

In an ideal world, there would be accurate, unbiased resources for pet owners to help inform themselves before they get pets. And yeah, those do exist currently! And that's awesome! But how many articles stating (falsely) that "pitbulls were the original nanny dogs and can be unconditionally trusted with children" do I have to wade through before I find one that says "pitbulls tend to develop dog aggression when they hit maturity and must be managed to avoid any fallout"? How many pamphlets do I have to read stating (falsely) that bettas can be kept in a small unheated vase before I find one that recommends a heated 5gal minimum? And how do you know what's true and what's false, if you aren't already in the animal world?

Shelters that put cutesy pet descriptions that sugarcoat an animal's issues aren't helping either! There were posts about this previously, so I won't go into it, but a lot of people don't know that "hihi I don't like to share my person" can be code for "I will bite you in the face if you try to sit next to me on the couch". And that doesn't help anybody!

I think we're headed in the right direction by having more foster-heavy shelters, so animals don't have to deteriorate in a shelter environment (stressful)! But our shelter up in Yellowknife a) didn't have enough volunteers to help keep animals in their homes, b) didn't have enough volunteers to help keep their shelter animals enriched and exercised, and c) didn't have any training sessions for new volunteers for 16 months, so had no way to recruit more volunteers. And this is likely a problem in a lot of places - people want to help, but shelters don't have the resources to train people.

I do think a lot of shelters have unreasonable adoption requirements, although this isn't a problem I've had to deal with because neither of the shelters I volunteered for were particularly gatekeep-y, so I'll skip this one. But yeah, shelters that have unreasonable requirements (always someone home, no other pets, 6ft privacy fence, no kids, etc etc etc) aren't helping their situation.

It would also be amazing if there were more accessible financial resources for pet owners who fall on a hard times, so people don't have to choose between starving or giving up their pets.

Finally, and this is an unpopular opinion, I think no-kill shelters shouldn't be a thing anymore. Keeping unadoptable or difficult animals for the length of their lives is much more cruel than giving them a really good day and euthanizing them. Animals don't understand that "there might be a home coming" - they just know that they're in a stressful situation and can't relax, for days or months or years. Even the healthy, stable animals deteriorate in stressful environments. Keep homeless animals for a reasonable amount of time, give them a good day, and let them go peacefully.

Humans project so many of their feelings onto animals and by seeing past those, I think we could improve the shelter system to better help homeless animals and the people that care for them.

[nugnthopkns]

felt the lightning under my skin

word count: 13.7k

warnings: explicit!fem reader, cursing, little bit of asshole joel, alcohol consumption, slight innuendo, moderate depiction of injury, needles

recommended listening: under the spell | springtime carnivore

a/n: i know figure skater/hockey player romances are terribly cliche but i couldn’t help myself. as an ex-skater hopefully i can make it a little less cringe. there’s probably an obscene amount of technical jargon in here and i sincerely apologize. the injury mentioned actually happened to me and let me tell you, it was not fun lmao. enjoy!

Joel swears he’s going to kill whoever’s in charge of renting out the practice facility.

Realistically, he knows it’s impossible. The rink can be rented by anyone when the Flyers aren’t using it and he typically thinks it’s a great way to promote ice sports in the community. Joel just wishes the facilities manager didn’t rent it out to figure skaters. They kick the shit out of the ice with their toe picks and leave the ice in terrible quality. It frustrates Joel because while community engagement is important, his career and the team take precedence. 

No one else seems to be bothered by the recent decline in ice conditions. Most of his teammates are used to poor ice, growing up playing pond hockey and at rinks that also housed figure skating clubs. While Joel had those experiences as well, he clearly never developed the same nonchalance as everyone else. He complains in the dressing room after every practice until Kevin finally says something. 

“Christ Beezer, relax. It’s only for another month or so until renovations at the other rink finish.”

Others chime in, telling him to not take it so seriously, with a couple of them defending the right of the other athletes to use the ice as they so please. The grief Joel catches is enough to shut him up, but he still stews privately over the fact figure skaters are destroying his happy place. 

☼☼☼☼

You want nothing more than to return to your home rink. The Flyers Skate Zone has been nice, the staff are incredibly accommodating, but something feels off. You’re having a harder time landing jumps and skating clean programs. The change in routine is enough to knock you off your game, which is something you absolutely can’t have. You’re coming off a breakthrough season, finishing on the podium at nationals and landing a spot on your first world championships roster. People are expecting you to replicate your success and you want to do that and more. 

US Figure Skating had taken a chance placing you on the national team for the current season. Though it was expected, they could have easily chosen the fourth place skater instead. She’s much younger than you, barely fifteen, and is yet to have a serious injury. At twenty you’re barely an adult, but this could be the last time you get an opportunity like this. The sport keeps getting younger and you’re going to get left behind if you don’t prove yourself. The grand prix circuit has been kind to you, allowing you to earn medals at some of the smaller competitions and hold your own against the big dogs in the majors like NHK Trophy. 

☼☼☼☼

“Try the triple flip again,” Brenda, your coach, instructs. “You could be more solid on the landing.”

“It’s this fucking ice! I can do one at home that would get me a high GOE,” you complain. 

She rolls her eyes and thinks about telling you off, but decides against it. No matter how many times she tells you it’s a mental block you need to get over, you find a way to blame the training facility. “Just give me five solid ones and we’ll call it quits.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes, but you peel away from the boards anyways. Some juniors are mingling in a corner and you warn them to watch out as you skate by gaining speed. The first attempt feels natural, and though you could have been a little stronger on the exit it’s a significant improvement from what you were doing earlier in the session. Jumps two and three also go well, but things go wrong on the fourth try. You catch a bad edge just before takeoff and aren’t able to correct your center of gravity while in the air. Two and a half rotations happen before you slam into the ground. The entire right side of your body feels like it’s been run over by a bus. 

“Fuck!” you scream in frustration as you pick yourself up off the ice. Circling back to examine just how bad the edge was you notice your pick created much too large a hole, something you’d get points deducted for in competition. Brenda signals you over to her, and you hang your head as you skate over. 

“You’re done,” she sighs. You can tell it pains her to see your progress plateau, but you’re doing everything you can to get out of this rut. Before you can protest, try to convince her to let you stay on, she’s speaking again. “Our ice time is up anyways. Go cool down and meet me in the conference room when you’re done.”

There’s nothing for you to do but sulk off the ice. The other skaters clear out of your way, not wanting to be on the receiving end of your anger. You direct it at the dressing room door, kicking it open so harshly it flies back on the hinges. It makes you feel a bit better but you’re still in a sour mood as you untie your skates. It’s frustrating not being able to perform at the level you know you can, even in practice. If you could just get out of this rink and back into the one you’re most comfortable at. 

After a much longer stretching routine than normal, you pack up your bag and head upstairs for what will no doubt be one of those meetings where you sit silently and take the heat. You realize that your behaviour today was childish, but you couldn’t help but let your emotions overcome you. The next group is well into their ice time when you pass by, and you realize it’s the Flyers. Most of them don’t acknowledge you and keep running drills, but one who looks about your age is sending you daggers. You have no idea why. 

The meeting goes much better than you thought it would. Brenda takes your anger in stride and lets you apologize for your outburst before shifting the conversation to altering your training plan. She suggests you take a few days off from the rink, working strictly off-ice, and you begrudgingly agree. There isn’t anything you can do or say to change her mind so you take the updated workout plans with a fake smile. She also tells you that your appointment with your sports psychologist has been moved up a couple of days, which you’re grateful for. Things then move to talking strategy and watching tape of competitors to see what to expect at this year’s nationals. The event is just over a month out, and you have the goal of landing on the podium once again, hopefully with the gold medal dangling around your neck. 

A couple of hours pass with you holed up in the conference room, and it’s dark when you gather your stuff and head for home. The complex is deserted and you assume no one but the staff are still here. It turns out someone else was there, and they follow you out, their own gear bag slung over their shoulder. You don’t really pay them any mind, holding the door open out of habit, and fail to recognize the person as the boy who glared while you walked by hours prior. He notices you, however, and makes a point to voice his distaste. 

“Hey!” he calls out, “Next time you eat shit don’t put such a big hole in the ice. Other people need it too.”

“Get fucked,” you yell back. You really don’t have the time or energy to be accosted by a hockey player. He continues to talk, but you don’t hear it because you slam your car door shut and drive off into the darkness. 

☼☼☼☼

Joel doesn’t feel like he was in the wrong until Claude suggests he apologize a few days later. In his mind, he has every right to be upset about you damaging the ice because it directly affected him. The hole you caused couldn’t be fully repaired, and he tripped at a really key moment during the scrimmage. His bad day was your fault. 

“You can’t blame a tough practice on her man,” Claude says as the two of them skate a few warm-up laps. “She didn’t mean to fall. Hell, she didn’t want to do it.”

“I get it, or whatever, but it’s still her fault. We’re professional athletes G, we need to be at the top of our games.”

Claude swats Joel upside the head. “So is she! Did you know that she’s favoured to win both the national and world championships? And that things look good for her to be on the Olympic team next year?”

Joel didn’t know, and guilt twinges his stomach. The next time he runs into you at the rink he’s going to apologize. 

☼☼☼☼

You spend your time away from the rink conditioning and regaining focus. The first couple of days are tough, but then you settle into a routine you believe will ultimately make you a better athlete and competitor. Your cardio and weights are upped, and you’re anxious to see how the increase improves your performance. At the suggestion of your psychologist you take a few more days off than originally planned, but it’s the best thing you could have done. You return to the rink ready to nail the final few weeks of training before nationals. 

Any other coach would have detested you for taking a week off this close to a major competition, but not Brenda. She understands that you needed time to refocus and that you’ll work harder than anyone else in the time until you leave for Salt Lake City. Your first practice is fantastic – every element is clean when isolated and within your programs. The timing is off a bit during your free skate on the first run-through but your jitters settle quickly and the next one is spot on. It feels good to be back in control of things. 

“I think you’re over that mental block kid,” Brenda laughs when you stop along the boards to get some water. “You’re skating better here than at home.”

You can’t help but agree. “You know, I don’t hate it here as much as I used to. Think we should move here permanently?” The comment earns you a slightly aggressive hair ruffling, but it’s worth it. You spend the last hour of ice time alone, running through both of your programs in a mock competition setting. 

It’s nearly silent in the complex when Joel sneaks through the doors. The only thing he can hear is the faint sounds of your music from inside the pad. He had been worried that you were never going to reappear at the rink but learned you were just taking a break when he cornered your coach in the parking lot. The middle-aged lady had told him when you’d be returning and Joel immediately put it in his calendar so he wouldn’t forget. Now, as he stands against the glass watching you, he’s nervous. What if you don’t accept his apology?

Joel knew you were a good skater. Well, he was pretty sure you were. He spent the short three-day road trip to Florida watching as many videos of you competing on YouTube as he could find. Though he’s murky on the specifics of what makes a good figure skater, Joel knows you put heart and soul into every performance and that your elements are strong technically. Your scores reflect that. Regardless, Joel is blown away at how talented you are when he watches you skate in person. 

You’re looser than in the videos he’s seen, probably because there isn’t any pressure, but you don’t give it any less than your all. The music drives you forward in a way Joel’s never seen before – you’re an extension of it, and it of you. As you round a corner to pick up speed he holds his breath. From watching footage of this program from earlier in the season, he knows you’re about to attempt your hardest element. The quadruple salchow is one of the hardest jumps female skaters are attempting at the moment, according to his research, and it’s been your most inconsistent element this season. You’re completing the jump before Joel realizes you’ve taken off the ground, but you don’t fall. He exhales and watches the rest of the program in awe. 

When the music stops and you take in your surroundings, you notice the applause. Thinking it’s just from Brenda, you shrug it off, but when you turn around she isn’t clapping. It’s coming from someone else – the boy who was a douchebag the last day before your break. The chances are he’s here to make another stupid comment, but Brenda insists you should talk to him. You wave him over to a section near the benches that dosen’t have glass so you can hear him better. 

“What do you want?” you ask bluntly, taking a sip of water. 

Joel’s taken aback by your abrasiveness but recovers quickly. He deserves it. “I, uh, wanted to apologize for what I said last week. That wasn’t cool. I was having a bad day and took out on you, I’m sorry,” he rambles. “And you’re like really good.”

“It wasn’t fucking cool,” you agree, “But we’re fine. I had just been kicked off the ice when you caught me, so I’m sorry too. For snapping.” There’s nothing more for either of you to say, and Brenda is calling your name, so you skate away from him. Over your shoulder you call out, “Thanks for the compliment unnamed Flyers player!”

“It’s Joel!” he responds. “Joel Farabee.”

☼☼☼☼

A sort of truce befalls you and Joel. More of your ice time overlaps, but neither you acknowledge each other more than the occasional nod in each other’s direction. It doesn’t bother you in the slightest. Preparing for nationals is the only that matters currently, and trying to navigate a possible friendship would be too much of a distraction. Joel is a little put off you don’t try to extend pleasantries, but when it’s explained to him that you’re entering a period that is similar to the lead-up to playoffs he understands. 

However, he finds himself making up excuses to stay at the rink to watch you practice. He blows off dinner with Kevin and drinks with Morgan when you have the slot after practice, and when you skate before him he’s at the rink hours early. His schoolboy crush becomes the topic of locker room gossip. Though Joel swears up and down that he just likes to watch you skate, none of the guys believe him. They don’t go as far as to embarrass him in your presence, but Travis certainly tries. What Joel doesn’t know is that you’re developing the same sort of fascination with him. You find yourself turning on every Flyers game you can fit into your schedule, watching him intently, and keeping an eye on his stats. 

“That boy sure has a lot of interest in you,” Brenda muses one day while you’re talking strategy on how to increase the points total on your short program. 

“I don’t know why,” you sigh. “So I was thinking, if I raise my arms during the triple lutz it should give me at least three more points.”

She looks at you like you’ve gained two extra heads. “Are you insane? You’ve never raised your arms during a triple.”

Your smile turns into a wicked smirk. “It can’t be that hard.”

It’s a lot harder than you thought it would be. Though you’ve added the extra step to jumps in the past, it’s been on single and doubles to rack up points and GOE scores. Jumping has never been your strong suit, and trying to navigate the change in your centre of gravity is difficult. You spend the rest of your ice time popping, under-rotating, or slamming into the ground. A couple of juniors snicker at your failed attempts, but when you remind them they’re stuck on a double loop they stop laughing. It was a little mean, and you remember how hard it was to prove yourself as a junior, but you can’t find it in you to care. There’s no need to laugh at someone trying to improve their skating. 

Bruises start to form on your sides from falling the exact same way so many times, and you trace them lightly through the thin material of your compression top. They’re going to look nasty in a few hours if you don’t ice them soon. A knock on the door stops your actions, and you invite the person on the other side in. To your surprise it’s Joel, and he’s holding an ice pack. 

“I thought you might need one of these,” he says, extending it to you. 

You thank him and hiss slightly when the cold hits your skin. There’s a beat of awkward silence before Joel speaks again. “Can I ask why you’re trying to change that jump?”

“You noticed that?” you know it isn’t a response to his question, but you’re shocked. 

Joel smiles and nods. You explain how changing the position of your arms increases the difficulty of the jump and therefore raises the amount of points it can receive. “So you’re doing it to get more points?”

“Pretty much. It’s a gamble this close to competition, but I’m confident it’ll work out.”

“You’re afraid your program won’t gain enough points to put you in a good position for the free skate,” he notes, “Or you wouldn’t be doing this.”

Once again, you’re floored by Joel’s understanding of your sport. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” you say as confidently as you can. “But maybe I just want the challenge.” If Joel notices the shake in your voice and the worried look in your eye he doesn’t say anything. 

You go through your cool-down routine but are surprised Joel doesn’t leave. In fact, he stays at the rink until you’re finished and follows you to the parking lot. His car is parked a few spots over from you, so you have to raise your voice a little to get him to hear you. “Hey Joel,” you call, “Do you not have practice?”

“Day off,” he yells back. He’s grinning like an idiot, which prompts you to ask him why. “That’s the first time you’ve said my name.” The smile on his face doesn’t go away, and you try to settle the butterflies in your stomach as you drive home. 

☼☼☼☼

Something shifts between you and Joel after that day. It’s subtle, but you’re well on your way to becoming friends. Phone numbers are exchanged, with him insisting his contact name be ‘King Beezer’, and the two of you chat regularly outside of the rink. He still watches as many training sessions as he can, and you start making appearances at his practices. It’s far more awkward for you but you push through it if for no other reason than wanting to be a good sport. Once Joel’s teammates catch wind of your budding friendship, they’re pestering you to go to a game. You politely decline each time, explaining that your training schedule is rather rigid and you can’t change it so close to nationals. The competition is just over a week out, and you’re catching a flight to Utah in three days. 

Joel doesn’t let you know he’s a little upset you won’t shift your schedule for him. Instead, he brings you lunch on days where you’re at the rink for eight hours and does his individual workouts alongside you. The two of you fall into the easy routine of enjoying each other’s company and everyone else is beginning to take notice. 

“So,” you say with a mouth full of the pita Joel brought you, “What are your plans for the All-Star break?”

Joel has been toying with an idea for a few weeks now, but he’s keeping it a secret. “I’m just gonna spend it at home with my family,” he shrugs. 

“You’re fucking joking. Joel, you could be someplace warm enjoying the beach!”

“I don’t want to go to the beach,” Joel retorts. 

You open your mouth to argue with him, because you’re of the opinion that everyone should love the beach, but you’re cut off by Brenda calling you to return to the ice. “This conversation isn’t over Beezer,” you say sternly, poking him in the chest to prove your point. He rolls his eyes. 

“I’ve gotta be at Wells Fargo in an hour for a team meeting, so I can’t watch this session,” he tells you. You’re a little deflated but understand he can’t play hookie from his job to watch you do yours. Brenda is banging a skate guard on the boards to get your attention, so you wave goodbye and jog over to her. “Y/N,” Joel yells loud enough that you’ll hear him over the chatter on the ice, “Keep your core tight!”

Your coaching team is perplexed at the comment because it’s second nature to you at this point, but you think it’s sweet. Some of the other girls poke fun at your ‘boyfriend’ and it makes you irritable. Brenda tells them off and suggests they get back to work which makes you feel better. You keep Joel’s advice in the back of your mind for the rest of your practice, and land every jump almost flawlessly. 

The day before you board your flight you have a terrible practice. Brenda chalks it up to nerves, but you that’s not it. You feel good about the competition and are confident it will go well. Something is off – you just can’t put a finger on it. Frustration eventually boils over and practice is called early. Everyone stays out of your way, letting you cool off, and you huff out a goodbye after promising to meet Brenda at the airport in the morning. Before you’re even out the door you’ve got your phone pressed to your ear, waiting for Joel to pick up. The Flyers got to start their break a day early due to a scheduling conflict and you hope he doesn’t fly home tonight. 

“What’s up?” Joel says casually. Judging by the background noise he’s playing video games, no doubt some dumb first-person shooter game he seems to play constantly. The sound of his voice is enough to send you into tears and you can’t get out a reply. His tone changes instantly and the noise stops – the game paused and forgotten about. “Hey,” he soothes, “What’s wrong?”

“Practice was bad,” you choke out, “Like really bad. Joel, I don’t think I can do this.” Now across the parking lot and at your car, you throw your bag in the trunk and crumble into the driver’s seat. 

“Of course you can. Want me to bring dinner over and we can do whatever?” You agree, not wanting to be alone, and hang up only after insisting you’re okay to drive the twenty minutes to your apartment. 

Joel must have drove well above the speed limit because he pulls into the parking lot at the same time as you. His engine is turned off jarringly fast, and he’s popping your trunk to grab your bag before your gears have settled in park. Though you put up some rather weak protests about carrying your own stuff, Joel ignores them. When you insist on holding something he tosses you the bag of food he brought with him. Opening it up, you realize Joel had stopped at your favourite sushi restaurant even though he doesn’t like the food. A smile creeps onto your face, possibly the first one all day, and you lean into Joel slightly when he wraps an arm around your shoulder. 

The two of you eat in silence, but it’s far from awkward. Joel’s waiting for you to open up, knows you will eventually, and you’re trying to find the words. However, they’re yet to appear, so you let Joel lead you to the couch and put on an episode of some crime show he’s currently watching. 

“Thanks for coming over,” you say as the credits roll on the second episode. 

Joel sends a smile your way, which you do your best to reciprocate. “Don’t worry about it. This is what friends do.” 

Slowly, you open up about practice, venting about how you skated sloppily and couldn’t nail any element no matter how simple it was. You tell him about how tense your muscles are and how scared you are that your fifteen minutes of fame are over, that you’ll never get another chance to represent America on the world stage. Joel listens attentively, letting you speak for as long as you need. At some point you start crying again and he tucks you into his side. Your tears soak through his sweatshirt but he could care less. When you’ve laid all your emotions out on the table he speaks gently, dispelling your doubts and letting you know that you can do it and he believes in you. Joel’s words make it easier to believe in yourself. 

The two of you spend the night on the couch, and you’re disheartened when your alarm goes off. You can’t stay in the little bubble Joel created for the two of you – the world and its responsibilities taking precedence over your fantasy. He drives you to the airport, rationalizing it by telling you it’ll be safer to keep your car at home. Realistically there isn’t a difference, but you thank him anyways. Parking is just one last thing you have to worry about. When you reach the airport entrance, Joel pulls into the idling lane and steps out of the car. You follow him, dragging your feet a bit because though you’re excited for nationals you don’t want to leave Joel. This will be the longest time the two of you have been apart since becoming friends.

“Make sure you don’t forget about me when you win and get all famous,” Joel jokes, handing you your suitcase. 

You swat his shoulder playfully. “Like you’d let that happen.”

“Of course I wouldn’t. Come here.”

He takes you in his arms. You’ve hugged Joel a couple of times before, but they didn’t feel as serious as this. This time he’s holding you for a purpose and you’re gripping the back of his jacket tightly because you want him to let go. It’s longer than people who are just friends are meant to hug for, so you begrudgingly pull away. Besides, Brenda and some of your teammates are waiting. 

“Have a good time at home,” you mumble. 

Joel wraps a single arm around you for one more squeeze. “You have a good time,” he says seriously. “Remember to enjoy the moment. I’ll be watching on T.V.” 

With your goodbyes said you wander into the airport. Joel says parked in his spot until he sees you embrace Brenda before driving off. The boarding process is painless, and once on the plane you take your seat beside a junior and put your headphones on. Downloaded to your Spotify is one of Joel’s hip-hop playlists, and though it’s the farthest thing from the music you enjoy you listen to it the whole flight.

☼☼☼☼

Utah’s nice, but you can’t help feeling like something’s missing – Joel’s missing. You’ve become so accustomed to him watching you train, clapping like an idiot every time you land a jump, that the silence is unnerving. Everyone notices the shift in your performance, and eventually Brenda crumbles and uses your phone to facetime him while you practice. It’s a decent enough substitute – Joel watches your pixelated figure zip around the ice and though he doesn’t always make comments, just know he’s with you in some capacity is enough to let your mind focus on the task at hand. You do the best you can at pushing away the butterflies that appear every time you think about how he’s giving up his freedom to make sure you succeed. 

When you aren’t training or doing press you’re talking to Joel. You call him constantly, narrating what you see on walks around town to settle your nerves and eating at the same time to make it feel like you’re together. The only person to support you in Salt Lake City is Brenda, so talking to Joel frequently makes you feel far less alone. You wish he could be here with you, but understand he needs time to recharge and can’t just follow you around the country no matter how much you’d like him to. 

“What time do you skate tomorrow?” Joel asks, mouth full of the pizza he’s enjoying. The features behind are different, so you assume he’s settled into his childhood home. 

“Um, I think 11:35? I’m not entirely sure,” you respond. Due to the way the event is seeded you’re skating second last, which both settles your nerves and makes you more anxious. There isn’t the pressure of closing out the event, but there’s hope that you’ll score high enough to win the short program and skate last in the free skate. 

Joel hums pensively. “I’ll check the website.” Conversation shifts away from skating, which you’re grateful for. It’s the last thing you currently want to think about. You listen with interest as Joel recounts stories of the pond hockey matches he’s played since getting home. The two of you are on the phone until nearly ten, when you have to say goodnight and head to bed. Tomorrow marks the start of the biggest week of your year. 

You follow your pre-competition routine to the letter. At other events this season you’ve been more relaxed, but your professional skating career depends on your performance at nationals so you aren’t taking chances. Five-thirty comes faster than you thought it would, but you’re out of bed and eating your first breakfast quickly. A quick two mile run follows, and then you’re having a shower and grabbing a second breakfast to eat at the rink. You meet Brenda in the hotel lobby before ubering to the rink. A solid practice follows, and you manage to keep your imposter syndrome on a leash in the presence of the other skaters. 

“It’s Joel,” Brenda says as she tosses you your phone. 

“Hey,” you say, squeezing the device between your ear and shoulder. “I don’t have much time to talk. My warm up call is soon.”

Joel laughs and you find yourself cracking a smile at the sound. “I know. Just wanted to check in and see how you’re feeling.”

“Honestly? I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous for a competition.”

His response is cut off by a loud noise. “Where are you?” you ask. 

“Just at home,” he says quickly. “My sister has some friends over and they’re being loud.”

The line is compelling enough that you don’t question how hastily it was delivered. Joel stays on the phone until you have to go, keeping your mind off the jittery feeling in your stomach. The TV cameras catch you talking but you give them a cheery wave and continue telling Joel about how good the soap at your hotel smells. You hang up when they call your flight to take to the ice for warmup and give your phone back to Brenda for safe keeping. 

☼☼☼☼

Joel tries hard not to feel too out of place while he takes his seat. For someone who practically lives in arenas he feels like it’s his first time within fifty yards of one. Everyone around him is dressed nicely, and he’s acutely aware of the fact there is a neon orange pom-pom attached to the top of his hat. 

As much as he feels like a baby deer trying to stand, Joel’s beyond excited to be here. It’s been a while since he’s gone somewhere that wasn’t hockey related and getting to support you while he does it is the best scenario ever. There are some potential looks of recognition from those around him, but thankfully no one approaches. 

Skaters begin to take the ice and he scans vigilantly for you. You’re doing the best you can to stay warm, jacket zipped all the way up and gloves on your hands. Joel notices you seem to be the loosest of the girls below him but isn’t sure if that’s a good thing. You skate a few quick laps before warming up some jumps. Everything goes well, though he can tell you under-rotated a few of them and didn’t attempt the one quad in your program. The warm up is over as quickly as it began and you’re herded off the ice. Joel sinks a little further in his seat as gets ready to watch your competitors. 

☼☼☼☼

There’s just over five minutes until you take to the ice. You keep your body moving, walking up and down the corridor, and blast your pre-competition playlist so loud you’ll probably have hearing damage when you’re older. Only one other girl in the hall with you but it feels too small. Brenda comes to grab you and the pair of you walk to the side of the boards. You don’t watch who’s currently skating, choosing instead to focus on adjusting your feet slightly in your skates. 

“Go out there and put on a show,” Brenda says. “Fuck the judges.”

You laugh at her remark. “Okay Bren, when I lose points for flipping them off I’m blaming you.”

“Fine by me. I have a bone to pick with Mark Johnson anyways.”

The scores for the previous girl are being announced, so you peel your jacket from your frame and do a couple more laps. Right before your name is announced you press your forehead to Brenda’s. It’s a ritual you started back when you were barely as tall as the boards and you’ve done it every single competition since. You feel grounded looking in her eyes, and you break with a fist bump. It’s go time. 

Every inch of your skin feels like it’s on fire. You didn’t come to play, and leave everything on the ice. The skate isn’t completely clean, you stumbled on the landing of a triple axel, but you’re happy with it. Despite your fears, both the triple lutz and quad salchow go smoothly. Audience engagement was at an all time high and you finished to deafening applause. Brenda wraps you in a tight hug when you step off the ice before leading you over to the kiss and cry. You chat idly with her and your choreographer, trying to catch your breath, while you wait for your score. 

The announcer’s booming voice crackles over the PA as he reads the judges’ decision. “The scores for Y/N Y/L/N please.” You don’t pay attention to the individual numbers, just the final total. “For a total score of 74.83.”

It’s lower than you had hoped for. Not by much, just two or three points, but it could mean all the difference in tomorrow’s skate. Brenda pats your leg sympathetically and whispers in your, “It’s alright. You skated well.”

You head back to the dressing room to watch the final skater on the small T.V in the corner while you get undressed. She’s phenomenal, and you end the day falling to third place. Joel’s hip-hop playlist blasts through your headphones as you do your cool down routine. The average tempo is upbeat and helps to take your mind off the fact you’re not where you want to be. Just as you’re about to exit the room and find Brenda to talk strategy there’s a knock on the door. 

“Yeah?” you say dejectedly, the word coming out as more of a sigh than you had intended. 

The door is cracked open, and the head of your best friend peaks out from around it. “Hey there rockstar,” Joel says softly, stepping further into the room. Once you comprehend that he’s really here you’re sprinting in his direction, jumping into his embrace. Joel’s laugh reverberates in his chest, and you feel it as you settle further into him. 

“Why are you here?” you whisper. Though you’re elated Joel is here, you’re confused as to why he would want to spend his break in Utah. 

He lets you down gently and shrugs. “I had to see if you’d land the quad.” Joel’s smile matches yours as you shake your head. 

“You’re fucking insane,” you quip, but there’s no malice in your voice.

Before you can pester Joel into answering all your questions you’re whisked away to a press conference. Talking to the media is something you don’t particularly enjoy, and it’s even more difficult to stay present when you know you could be spending time with your best friend. Most of the questions are directed towards the girls who placed higher than you which you’re thankful for. It’s easier for you to zone out, and you root through your mind of places around the city to take Joel. 

“Y/N, how tough will it be for you to better your scores in tomorrow’s free skate?”

The question is one that you expected, luckily, and you’re able to recite the response you worked out with Brenda without really engaging with the reporter. “I mean I obviously didn’t aim to be in third place heading into tomorrow,” you joke, “But I’m fairly happy with where I ended up. The other girls had fantastic skates and deserve to be above me. My plan for tomorrow is to leave everything on the ice, skate cleanly, and be proud of myself regardless of what happens.”

Pens scribble furiously by those that don’t have recording devices to get your words down on paper. There’s some chatter, questions for the other girls, before a young reporter fresh out of journalism school is allowed to speak. He identifies himself as Theo Rateliff before jumping in. “Y/N,” he says, “How excited are you to get back to training on home ice when you get back to Jersey?”

“Um, I didn’t know the renovations were finished,” you stammer. “As far as I know, I’ll be at Flyers SkateZone until the end of the season.”

Theo shakes his head. “My partner was informed this morning that the rink will be good to go by the time you get back.”

You turn to the side to look at Brenda, who just shrugs. “Well, to be quite honest I’ll miss being in Voorhees. I had fun skating there and feel like the rink prepared me well for this competition.”

“Obviously not well enough,” Theo retorts, not missing a beat. “Your odds of winning dropped by seventy-seven percent.”

“Thank you for the reminder Theo,” you snap. “Are we done here?”

The press-coordinator shakes their head in confirmation, and you rip the microphone off your jacket before stomping off. People clear a path for you, not wanting to get caught in your storm. You run right to Joel who lets you direct him out of the arena and into the uber he called while you were wrapping up. 

It’s a silent ride, Joel knowing you aren’t in the mood for light conversation. He lets you take a ridiculously long shower and orders take out that arrives just as you step out of the bathroom. 

“Where are you staying?” you ask as you detangle your hair. 

“Nowhere yet,” Joel says, “I got in early this morning and went straight to the rink.”

You think carefully about your next words before you speak. Your competition routines can be excessive and annoying, and you don’t want to inconvenience him. “You could just stay here. The room is massive and there’s more than enough space for both of us in the bed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, voice taking a soft lilt. “I’d really like it if you stayed.”

Joel smiles wider than you’ve ever seen him do before. The two of you sit comfortably in bed, eating the burritos Joel got and going down a conspiracy theory youtube wormhole. He asks how you feel about him coming to watch your evening training session you have to leave for in twenty minutes. You tell him you’d be angry if he didn’t stand beside your coach and clap every time you landed a jump. 

It’s chilly but the sun is shining bright so you decide to bundle up and walk to the rink. Joel pokes fun at you beanie and you swat him in the chest, shutting him up for the time being after his giggles subside. The view is gorgeous, mountains framing the setting sun. You squeeze Joel’s bicep to get his attention and relish the feeling of his muscle in your grip. 

“Look! An owl!”

Sure enough, a barn owl is flying over top of you, in the middle of downtown Salt Lake City. “That’s my good luck charm. Means I’ll skate well tomorrow.”

Joel pokes your cheek lightly. “I thought I was your good luck charm,” he gasps. 

You roll your eyes. “I guess you can be my secondary one.” Joel doesn’t seem to mind the fact your arms are still wrapped around his, so you stay that way until for the rest of the journey. 

☼☼☼☼

The night goes according to plan. You skate well in practice and feel comfortable for tomorrow’s event. Joel executes his role perfectly, cheering when you do things well and squirting water at you to make you squeal in laughter when things get a little too serious. Once back at the hotel you collapse into bed almost immediately. You’re so exhausted you can’t even be bothered to climb under the covers, and wait until Joel pulls them back for himself to crawl in. There’s no awkwardness at sharing a bed with Joel, and you sigh contently as he pulls you into his side. Sleep comes easily then for the both of you. 

You wake before both your alarm and Joel. It takes you a second to get your bearing and realize you’re pinned against his body, though you don’t mind. There’s worse places to be stuck. You lay curled into Joel for as long as you can, but eventually you have to shake him awake. 

“Beezer,” you whisper, ruffling his hair, “You’ve gotta let me out.”

He groans something unintelligible but instead of heeding your words pulls you closer. “Joel come on,” you try again, “I’ve really gotta get up. Need to shower before I get to the rink.”

Joel listens this time, but only lets you go after squeezing you tight for a second. You go about your routine with him still passed out in bed and giggle at the way his hair curls around his ears when you pass by. As you’re leaving to get to your practice ice slot Joel wakes up, lumbering into the bathroom. He reappears a minute or two later to say goodbye. 

“Will I see you after practice?” he asks, voice still gruff with sleep. 

“Probably not,” you reply, leaning down to tie your shoes. “I won’t be coming back here until after everything is done.”

Joel nods and wraps you in a warm hug. “You’re going to do great,” he says as he pulls away. “I’ll be there, cheering so fucking loud.”

“I expect you to throw a teddy bear on the ice after I finish.”

The walk to the arena is lonely without Joel, but you push the thought out of your mind. You need to stay focused on putting on the skate of your life in a few hours and not on how lately you’ve been having more-than-friendly thoughts about your best friend. Brenda is there when you arrive, making conversation about what you did last night with Joel before explaining how you’re going to run your practice.

Your hour of semi-private ice passes in the blink of an eye. The other girls in your flight are just as tense as you, popping jumps and doing a lot of stroking to loosen up. A lot is riding on today’s event and you’d be lying if you weren’t feeling the pressure. When you get back to the dressing room and check your phone, you notice there’s a text from Joel. 

Don’t want to disrupt your pre-comp routine, but I thought I’d share a playlist. It’s songs that remind me of you. 

Included is a link to a spotify playlist entitled ‘my golden girl’. You open it with a smile, noticing that it starts with some of your favourite songs even though they aren’t the kind of thing Joel regularly listens to before turning into things you’ve never heard before. 

Thanks <3, you respond, going to listen to it during my off-ice. 

That’s exactly what you do. It filters through your headphones for hours as you stretch, do a quick interview for those watching on television, and get dressed. Though it’s a break from your typical routine, it’s welcome. Knowing Joel thought about you enough to make you a playlist and send it to you helps calm your nerves. 

“Hey kiddo,” Brenda says as she walks to where you’ve taken up root on the floor. Your left hamstring is tight, and you’re trying desperately to fix it before you have to go on the ice. “Go out there and absolutely kill it. This is your best program, and I haven’t seen anyone skate better than what you can do today.”

“Gee thanks for the confidence booster Bren,” you chuckle before hoisting yourself onto the bench to tie your skates. 

She doesn’t laugh. “I mean it Y/N. You can still win this thing.”

You’re left alone to finish getting ready and then join the other girls in the tunnel. No one talks, which you’re grateful for. When you were younger and coming up through the ranks the other competitors liked to gossip while they waited and it was your least favourite part of an entire competition. A camera man waits at the end of the walkway, filming your arrival to the ice pad, and you wave cheerily as you pass by. It can never hurt to endear yourself to those watching at home – maybe they’ll be nicer to you on the internet. 

Joel is standing at the edge of the boards during your warmup, watching and cheering intently. In a moment of insane confidence you blow him a kiss as you skate past, and giggle hysterically when he catches it and holds it close to his chest. You’re called off the ice then and spend the time really getting into the zone. 

It’s considered bad luck to watch the performances before your own, so you face the wall as you do jog lightly to keep your body temperature up and the adrenaline flowing. Much sooner than you’d like it’s your turn to take your guards and jacket off. Brenda holds your skating hands as she whispers last minute words of encouragement, and you stumble through the traditional handshake before presenting yourself to the crowd. 

Once the music starts your brain checks out and instinct takes over. You learned when you were younger that your best skates happened when you just allowed yourself to feel, and you desperately need the skate of a lifetime. Going into the first jumping pass you can feel yourself tense up so you think about Joel’s smile while you guys sat by the lake last night. It works to loosen you up, and you spend the rest of the program thinking of your favourite moments with Joel. As you strike your final pose the music fades out and the roars of applause cascade in. You know you had a flawless performance, beaming as you fist pump the air in the same manner you chirp Joel for doing while he celebrates goals. 

You bow to the crowd in all directions, waving and laughing as flowers and teddy bears fall onto the ice in front of you. An orange blob of fur catches your eye, and you skate to pick it up before one of the volunteers could put it in the bag that will join your garment bag in the dressing room. You know Joel is the one who threw the Gritty toy – no one else really knows of your affiliations with the team. As you sit in the kiss and cry awaiting your results, you examine the stuffed animal. Instead of the regular Gritty jersey Joel replaced it with his own, the number flashing vividly at you and pulling a smile from your nervous features. 

Brenda keeps her hand clasped tightly in yours as the PA system crackles to life. “And the scores for Y/N Y/L/N are,” the announcer begins, and your knee begins bouncing rapidly. “The free skate score is 155.79, for a total score of 230.62.”

You jump up in amazement. Despite your slow start to the competition you managed to get a season’s best. You’re also five points ahead of the second place skater, guaranteeing you a place on the podium and depending on the final results, a spot at worlds. A volunteer ushers you out of the kiss and cry and you skip all the way down the tunnel. To get out some of the adrenaline you jog the corridor a few times before returning to Brenda. 

“Come on,” she laughs, “Joel’s waiting at the edge of the public area. We can watch the final skate together.”

At the mention of Joel you’re jogging again, wanting to see him as fast as possible. “Beezer!” you shriek as you approach, launching into the elaborate handshake the two of you have perfected at this point. 

“Hey golden girl,” he chuckles, returning your actions with just as much enthusiasm. “You looked fucking great out there. I see you got my gift.”

The Gritty doll is still in your hands but there’s no shame. Instead, you tuck it under your arm and rest your head against Joel’s shoulder to watch the final skater. The girl after you had fallen a number of times, dropping her total significantly and landing her in fifth place. Victory is so close you can almost taste it.

 It’s the longest six minutes of your life. Watching her skate increases your anxiety – she’s good, has almost as great a skate as you, but she under-rotated a jump and rushed through her program so there was extra music at the end. The clock above your head rings throughout the silent corridor as everyone awaits the scores with baited breath. In under a minute you’ll know whether you’re returning to New Jersey with a gold or silver medal in your suitcase. 

You don’t hear anything as they announce her score – just see the numbers flash of the small T.V screen and calculate that it’s not enough for her to beat you. After years of blood, sweat, and an immeasurable amount of tears you’ve crossed another goal off your list. Those around you are jumping and screaming, Brenda letting a few tears escape. All you can think about is Joel, who’s celebrating like he just scored the game winning goal in the Stanley Cup finals, and how much you love him. 

Without thinking, you smash your lips against Joel’s. It’s adrenaline filled and mostly teeth until he wraps one hand around your waist and the places the other along your jaw. Then it becomes purposeful, both of you moving in tandem and never wanting it to stop. When Joel pulls away and rests his forehead against yours you can’t stop smiling. The kiss might have happened in the heat of the moment, but you know it’s the culmination of feelings building inside of you for months. 

“You’re a national champion,” Joel says, pulling you flush against his chest in the biggest hug you’ve ever received. 

“I’m your national champion,” you whisper. 

He pulls back and grins, kissing you again. “You’re my national champion. My golden girl.”

The rest of your stay in Salt Lake City is a blur. You’re swept up in the numerous press events, galas, and enjoying your blossoming relationship with Joel. When you finally got back to the hotel after what seemed like hours of people complimenting your comeback, the two of you sat down and talked about the kiss and what you wanted to happen next. It was scary, being so vulnerable, but it needed to happen – you’re both adults and communication is important. So, you’re returning home with a gold medal and boyfriend, two things you’re ecstatic about. 

☼☼☼☼

“J, it’s not straight,” you giggle. Joel’s trying, and failing miserably, to hang the shadow box with your nationals medal in it above your couch. It’s been almost a month since you returned home but you’ve been so busy that decorating the apartment you barely spend time in has been at the bottom of your to-do list. 

He grunts out a response. “Fuck. Do I have to go left or right?”

“Left.” The picture shifts in the opposite direction. “The other left Joel!”

A few minutes later the decoration is sitting perfectly in place. Your child of a boyfriend insists on getting rewarded for his achievement, so the two of you bundle up and get dinner. It’s nothing fancy – just sandwiches from the deli down the street from your apartment, but spending time with him is nice. Joel’s been on a string of short road trips and you’ve been training anxiously, waiting for the organization to announce who they’re sending to the world championship. 

“How’s practice been lately?” Joel asks, mouth full with a bite of his BLT. “I miss being able to watch you skate whenever I want.”

After returning from Utah you were shuttled immediately into the freshly renovated rink of your skating club. It’s a little farther into Jersey and certainly not as convenient for him to get to, especially now that the NHL season is picking up and the Flyers are clinging desperately to the final playoff spot. “It’s been interesting,” you shrug, “I’m skating well, and physically I feel great. There’s a mental block or something though because everything feels a little bit off.”

The smile that graces Joel’s face can only be described as shit-eating. “Duh, I’m not there.”

“Fuck off.” Though you try to make the words come out in a serious tone, there’s no malice in them. 

Conversation flips to some ridiculous story Travis told at practice that morning, and you giggle as Joel recounts it with failing arms. You tell a few stories of your own, that leave him in stitches, and as you walk home hand in hand he asks you again to come to a game. With your schedule a little more flexible as you wait for a decision about the upcoming competition stint it will be much easier to see Joel play. You say yes with a shy smile and don’t miss the way the boy beside you blushes under the streetlights. 

Joel stays over, and the next two nights after that. It’s nice, falling into a relationship with your best friend, because there’s no awkwardness. You know what kind of cereal to keep in your pantry and he knows you don’t eat meat on Mondays. Everything is easy. There are a fews in the road, as can be expected with any budding relationship, but for the most part your lives fit seamlessly together.  

After some meticulous planning, you found a home game on the Flyers schedule that will coincide with yours. It’s a Friday night near the end of February, and it’s actually the last day US Figure Skating can announce their assignments for worlds. You figure watching your boyfriend is the perfect way to distract yourself from the decision, whether or not you make the team. Joel’s ecstatic about your attendance, wanting you to be immersed in as many aspects of his life as possible. The entire day he’s bouncing around your apartment, beyond ready for puck drop. 

“It’s literally three in the afternoon,” you grumble as Joel corrals you into the hall to put your shoes on. “You never leave this early! Why do we have to do it today?” In an attempt to save gas and lower your carbon footprint you’re carpooling with Joel.

“Because being in this house is making you more anxious,” he points out. “I’ve caught you staring into the distance one too many times today. Besides, this way you can meet up with some of the other girls and relax before the game.” 

Joel’s right, as he so often is. Your agent hasn’t called to let you know if you made the team or not, nor has US Figure Skating made an announcement on social media. So you’ve spent the entire day pacing back and forth around your living room and fretting that perhaps the best performance of your season wasn’t good enough. He twirls his car keys around his index finger in an attempt to speed you along and you roll your eyes at his impatience. 

After ensuring your home is safely secured you hit the road. The drive into Philadelphia is easy, with little traffic, and you spend it laughing at Joel’s ridiculous freestyle raps. It doesn’t surprise you that the staff lot at the Wells Fargo Centre is sparsely populated – most of the guys don’t show up until around five, Joel included. However, a group of women are standing near the entrance. While this isn’t the first time you’ve met significant others of your boyfriend’s teammates, it’s the first time Joel won’t be around. 

“It’ll be alright,” he whispers as the car settles into park. You offer a small smile that mustn't have been convincing because Joel lifts the hand that’s intertwined with his to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss to the knuckles. The smile becomes genuine and you tease him the entire walk to the door. 

Joel greets the other girls before setting his bag down on the concrete and wrapping you in a hug. “Have fun,” you say softly against his lips, landing a short kiss. He winks and opens the door, disappearing inside and leaving you in a fit of giggles. 

There was no reason for you to be nervous – everyone is incredibly kind. You seem to be the youngest in the group, but the other girls pay no mind and treat you as one of their own. There’s a small amount of confusion when your phone chimes with a notification, a few glances of possible distaste, but as soon you explain you’re waiting on a very important call they understand. Dinner is wonderful, filled with sincere questions about your skating career and how you got together with Joel. By the time you get back to the arena for the game it feels as though you’ve been a part of the group for years. 

You spend the game in the family and friends box, sipping a glass of wine and following Joel around the ice. Practice is early in the morning and you want to be productive, so you’re relaxed in your alcohol consumption compared to some of the others. One of the older girls, though you can’t remember what player is her significant other, recently got engaged and is celebrating with as many drinks as those around her will allow. It’s fun to experience a hockey game in this way, but you’re a little on edge. You haven’t anything about worlds assignments all day and the organization doesn’t typically leave the announcement to this late in the evening. There’s seven minutes left in the game when your phone rings. You quickly excuse yourself from the group and step into the hall. 

“Hello?”

“Y/N,” the chipper voice of your agent Megan says, “How are you?”

A nervous laughter tumbles from your lips. “I think that depends on what you’re about to tell me.”

“I imagined you’d say something along those lines,” she responds. “You’ve always been quite witty.” Before you ask her to just get to the point of the phone call, Megan speaks. “I have some good news and some bad news for you. You’re going to the World Championships, but you aren’t leading the team like we hoped.”

It’s not as bad as she made it sound. A breath you didn’t know you were holding escapes, and you try your best to remain professional in the hallway of the arena. “Honestly,” you sigh, “I think that’s better. There’s going to be a lot less pressure for me to bring home three Olympic spots. Thanks for letting me know Meg.” She hangs up then, no doubt having to tell another girl she didn’t make the cut. 

When you slip back through the door, you find all eyes on you. “What was that about?” 

“I made the roster for worlds.”

Earth-shattering applause erupts from everyone in the room, and no one pays attention to what happens on the ice for the remainder of the game. The congratulations continue until you’re waiting outside the dressing room for Joel to exit. He had a good game, featuring two assists and a blocked shot, and smiles lazily when he sees you leaning against the brick wall. 

“This is something I could get used to,” he chuckles, pulling you into him by the belt loops of your jeans. The two of you kiss for a moment, letting it stay chaste in fear of getting chirped by teammates.

“Well,” you sigh dramatically, drawing out the suspense of what you’re about to say, “You’re going to have to wait a bit longer for it to become a regular occurrence. My training schedule just increased exponentially.”

Joel sits on your words for a moment before it registers. “No fucking way!” he shouts, picking you up by the waist as the two you are a pairs team. “You got the spot?” 

Having Joel be so excited about the accomplishment makes it seem that much more real. Tears well in your eyes and you shake your head up and down to signal he’s correct. Joel presses his lips to yours once again, this time not caring about any insults his friends could throw at him. The kiss makes you feel loved, fully and completely, and you hope you’re conveying the same amount of emotion he is. 

“That’s my girl.”

☼☼☼☼

“Oh my fucking god,” you grumble, picking yourself off the ice for what feels like the hundredth time in the past five minutes. There’s two weeks until you leave for Milan and it looks like you’ve never skated before. Jumps are being under-rotated, spins aren’t being entered properly, and your footwork sequence is abysmal. Nothing about the way you’re performing would let a newcomer know you’re a world class athlete. 

Brenda gives you a sympathetic smile. “Just try again kiddo.”

You do try again – fifteen more times to be exact. Each attempt at a triple axel getting farther and farther from what it should be. Before you get even more frustrated you abandon the element altogether, hoping to avoid a complete meltdown. No one questions it when you shift disciplines completely and move about the ice completing a simple foxtrot pattern. Ice dance has always been a great de-stresser for you, and after a few passes you feel your heart rate return to normal. At some point during your break Joel had entered the rink and is now standing beside your coach, making pleasant conversation. You smile as you skate towards them, ecstatic that the two most important parts of your life blend seamlessly. 

“Farabee!” you shout when you get close enough for him to hear you. At the sound of your voice Joel smiles, turning to pick up your water bottle and toss it in your direction. 

“I’m wounded babe,” he feigns pain as you take a drink, “I really thought that we were on at least a first name basis.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics and playfully squirt water at him. “I’ll call you whatever I want. What brings you this far into Jersey?”

“Thought I’d see if you wanted to grab lunch after you were done. We’ve got a late practice today,” he explains. “Whatever you want, eh? Does that mean I say whatever I want? Because I think you’re looking particularly good in those leggings.tum” You don’t miss the suggestive tone to his voice, but choose to ignore it.

Joel watches the rest of your practice from his spot at the boards and lays himself across the dressing room bench as you complete a quick cool down routine. You have a meeting with your massage therapist in the afternoon, so you follow Joel to the restaurant he chose. It’s a small vegan place that you sometimes stop at on your way home from the rink. They have the best burrito bowls you’ve ever tasted and since you’ve gotten together Joel has become rather fond of them as well. 

The two of you sit outside on the curb. New Jersey is uncharacteristically warm for March and you want to enjoy the sunshine as much as possible. The rest of the day will be spent in dark rooms receiving physical therapy and trying to ease your tired muscles. There isn’t much conversation, but you’re more than content just to be with Joel. Life moves incredibly fast and your schedules don’t always line up nicely. It’s difficult to spend time with him, especially when you’re weeks out from a major competition, but small moments like this keep you from missing your boyfriend too much. 

“Have I asked you to take me to the airport yet? I can’t remember,” you admit as you finish the last bite of your meal. 

Joel laughs at your lapse in memory, knowing he gets the same way when high stakes games roll around. “No, but you would like me to?”

“Do you mind?” you ask, “That way I don’t have to leave my car at the airport for a week and a half. But if you can't, don't worry about it, I’ll grab an uber.”

“Babe, the uber will be like fifty bucks. I’ll take you. What time do you have to be there?”

You give him a much too detailed itinerary of your departure plans and listen to him talk about the drills they’re going to run at practice. Time passes much quicker than you would have liked, and soon you’re kissing him goodbye and watching him wave from your rearview mirror. 

It’s almost a week later when you see Joel again, showing up at a Flyers practice for the first time since training moved back to your home rink. You’ve been instructed to have a rest day, the team wanting to push you too hard before taking off. The arena attendants know you well at this point, and chat with you as you sit on a bench away from the media. You know better than you alert them of your presence – some of them no doubt wanting a comment from you about worlds. Joel has no idea you’re even there until long after practice, when he sees you leaning casually against the driver’s side door of your car, conveniently parked next to his.

“Hey all-star,” you say as casually as possible, twirling your keys around your index finger. 

He leans down to kiss you sweetly, and though you probably shouldn’t in a parking lot, you push your body closer to his in an attempt to deepen the kiss. Joel obliges you, tongue gently slipping into your mouth, staying there until you both hear the shouts of his teammates. 

“Fuck off,” he yells at Kevin, who’s hollering so loud people can probably hear him all the way back in Philadelphia. “What are you doing here?”

“I have a day off,” you smile, and I thought I’d come see if I could hitch a ride to your place.” You had originally planned to attend the game in person, but a rough day of training yesterday had you too sore to do much other than lie on the couch. 

“The chariot awaits m’lady,” he says in a terrible British accent, bowing for good measure as he opens the door. Your car will be fine in the parking lot overnight, so you slip in and enjoy the journey into the city. 

Joel’s pre-game routine changes only slightly with you in his apartment – instead of napping alone, you curl into his chest and snore softly, lulling him into one of the most peaceful sleeps he’s ever had. You tie his tie for him and riffle his hair before kissing him good luck. Being alone in Joel’s apartment isn’t as strange as you thought it would be, and you familiarize yourself with his kitchen while you make dinner. The pre-game show plays quietly in the background, and when they mention how well Joel is playing you can’t help but smile. 

It’s much more comfortable to watch the game in your boyfriend’s hoodie and pyjama pants on the couch than it would be to sit in the stiff arena seats. Time passes at a pretty leisurely pace, with nothing too exciting going on within the game, and sometime in the third period you fall asleep. The rest of the game and all the media appearances pass you by. Joel figures you must be sleeping when he doesn’t get a congratulatory text when Claude pulls off a buzzer beater to win. His suspensions are confirmed when he slips through his front door to see you drooling slightly on the throw pillow his mom bought him as a housewarming gift. 

You don’t remember climbing into bed, but you wake up with Joel’s socked feet pressed against your calves. He stirs behind you and mummers something unintelligible. 

“What was that sleepyhead?” you giggle, turning around to run a hand through his hair. It’s rather unruly at the moment and you find it adorable. 

“Good morning,” he repeats. 

“That’s what that was?”

“Leave me alone.”

The two of you lay in bed for a few more minutes before starting the day. You navigate around Joel flawlessly – like you’re there every morning. Breakfast is quick and you’re out the door before you have a chance to cherish the domesticity of it all. You have a pretty intense day of training and Joel has to be at the airport in two hours for a trip to Toronto. He drops you off in Voorhees, kissing you gently before making his way back into the city. You hate to see him go, wishing you could spend more time together before you head to worlds, but you know you’re both adults with real-world responsibilities. 

For the first time in the final push you have a practice that is up to standard. Things click into place and you feel good. Really good. Each time you skate a program it’s clean, and the elements don’t feel weak when completed individually. Maybe you’ll actually be able to pull this off. 

☼☼☼☼

Italy is beautiful, but you don’t get much time to enjoy it. A scheduling mishap has team USA leaving two days later than you were supposed to and now you’re all scrambling to find a groove. Every moment is being spent preparing for the competition – off ice training, multiple practices a day, press conferences. When you get a moment to spare you call Joel, but oftentimes he’s at practice or fulfilling other obligations. The time difference is brutal and souring your mood. You feel alone, and just wish Joel could be by your side like he was at nationals. 

As soon as you step on the ice something feels wrong. You run through a mental checklist and assure that nothing is – your skates feel they way they should and you didn’t forget any gear. It must be nerves. The competition officially starts tomorrow and you’re eager to cheer on the pairs teams America has brought. You do your best to skate it out, and by the time you’re allowed to have the ice to yourself you can almost convince yourself everything will be fine. 

The music starts and you snap into character. Your short program music is punchy and so are you – all sass and sharp angles as you navigate the opening step sequence. A lump forms in your throat as you set up the first first jumping pass, but you push it down. You’ve done a thousand triple lutz-triple toe-loop combinations and could execute it flawlessly in your sleep. 

Everything happens so fast. One second you’re rotating through the air and the next you’re sprawled across the ice. Nothing feels off until you try to pick yourself up. When you can’t move your left leg you look to see what the issue is and find your kneecap where it most certainly should not be. It’s rotated nearly one hundred and eighty degrees, now residing in the back instead of the front. 

“Help me!” you scream, mostly out of shock. There’s no pain which surprises you, but you know it definitely should hurt. Everyone around the ice surface is frozen in place, not knowing what happened or what to do, and you continue to sob helplessly. 

Someone sprints to get the onsite emergency responders and Brenda runs to you as fast as her dress shoes will allow. “Don’t look at it honey,” she soothes. “It’s just going to make things worse.”

“It should hurt,” you croak out through the tears, “Why doesn’t it hurt?”

“You’ve got so much adrenaline pumping through your veins you can’t feel anything,” the EMT explains in flawless English. “Can we take your skates off?”

You nod, and the right skate comes off breezily. Brenda unlaces your left skate and the medical team works to pry the boot from your foot. A sharp pain shoots up your leg and you wail in agony. “Shh, it’s okay,” your coach coos, “The skate is going to stay on until we get to the hospital.”

The ride to the hospital feels like time is moving through sludge. The paramedics keep an eye on your blood pressure and do their best to keep you calm. Brenda is typing furiously on her phone, and you ask what she’s doing as the vehicle pulls into the ambulance bay. 

“The ISU rep told me to keep him updated,” she explains. “And I’m trying to vote on which alternate is going to take your place.”

You knew that was going to happen, you couldn’t possibly skate, but it makes you unbelievably sad. All your hard work is going to amount to nothing. No one cares about national champions who don’t place at worlds, and the injury is going to sideline you in next year’s olympic race. The emergency room has a bed ready for you, and the doctor arrives as you’re being transferred into it. 

“Miss Y/L/N, I’m Dr. Morelli. We’re going to put your patella back into place. It’s going to be incredibly painful, so we’re to sedate you. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” you say as strongly as you can, though it comes out feeble and hoarse. 

A nurse inserts an IV into your arm and smiles at you. They have you count backwards from ten, and by the time you get to eight you’re asleep. There’s a brief moment of panic when you wake up as you forgot where you are. “You’re awake,” Brenda speaks softly from the bedside. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you admit. “It hurts so fucking bad.” 

She gives you a sympathetic smile. “I know. They’re going to come get you for x-rays in a few minutes and then we’ll go back to the hotel.”

“Oh my god,” you gasp. “I’ve gotta call Joel. Bren, give me your phone.”

Laughter comes from the device’s speakers, and you realize she’s one step ahead of you. 

“There’s my girl,” Joel whispers, eyes landing on yours as the phone lands in your hands. “Are you okay?”

The question makes you laugh. “You’re quite the comedian Mr. Farabee. Of course I’m not okay. My leg is currently being held together by a brace and my dreams are ruined.” You soften when you realize how upset Joel looks. “I’ll be fine J, I promise.”

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

“There’s nothing you could have done. It was a freak accident. You can pick me up from the airport.”

He agrees in a heartbeat and tells you about his day to distract you from the pain. You’ll have to ask the nurses for some pain meds before you leave. A nurse comes to take you to the radiology department, and you hang up after reassuring him for the hundredth time that he doesn’t need to fly to Italy to bring you home himself. 

Brenda holds you as the adrenaline wears off and your legs twitches rapidly as a trauma response. She helps you navigate around the small room and makes sure you’re able to use the bathroom. Luckily none of her other skaters are competing, and she’s able to travel back to Philadelphia with you once the doctor clears you. It’s a rough flight – there’s a fair amount of turbulence and each bump makes your leg throb. You don’t get a wink of sleep and are grumpy by the time you touch down in Philly. Joel’s waiting at arrivals with a giant sign and a sweet smile. You wheel yourself over to him as quickly as possible, wanting nothing more than to collapse into his arms. 

“Welcome home baby,” he whispers, leaning down to catch your lips in an airport appropriate kiss. The reason you’re home so early isn’t brought up which you're incredibly grateful for. Your untimely withdrawal is still a very sore spot. 

“I wasn’t gone long,” you laugh, trying to poke fun at the situation before reality gets you too down. 

“Long enough for me to miss you a tremendous amount.”

The three of you exit the airport, and Joel drops Brenda off at her house before taking you back to his place. Chuck and the rest of the management team were allowing him to miss a few games until you become more mobile and can’t exist on your own for a few hours. Joel’s bed is calling out to you, but he insists you’ll feel better after a shower and you know he’s right. Showering isn’t something you can do yourself, so Joel keeps your leg straight and elevated as you sit on the stool he bought while waiting for you to return. The grime of travelling is washed away and you feel lighter when you swing into bed, stubbornly refusing Joel’s help. 

You convince him to let you watch the broadcast of the event you were supposed to be skating in. It’s probably not the best thing for your mental health, but you want to see how everyone does. Joel sits besides you, arm wrapped around your shoulder, and listens to you explain the rationale behind every element’s score. When your replacement takes the ice you go silent. It’s too much to see her skating in your place so you bury your face into Joel’s neck. There’s no jealousy like you thought there would be, just an infinite amount of sadness that you’re not able to be there. 

“You’ll be able to get back there,” Joel reassures you when he feels a tear soak through his sweater. 

“That’s not guaranteed,” you sniffle. “I might not ever skate again, let alone compete at any level.”

He shakes his head in disagreement, leading you to quirk a brow. “I know you. You’re going to do it. It won’t be easy, but you’re the most determined person I’ve ever met. People bounce back after major injuries all the time. I’ll be by your side the entire time, helping you through.”

“I love you,” you blurt out. The gravity of your words sinks in and you gasp. You haven’t said those words to each other yet, but they feel right.

“I love you too,” Joel smiles, kissing the tip of your nose. “Now pay attention to the TV, that girl you beat at Skate Canada is up next.”

☼☼☼☼

Recovery hasn’t been easy. There have been so many days where all you want to do is throw in the towel and cry, but Joel keeps you going. He insists you to your physical therapy exercises with him so you aren’t alone, and he comes to as many doctor’s appointments as he possibly can. After the Flyers get eliminated from the playoffs he doesn’t return home for the summer, choosing to stay in the Philly area with you. Having him there is a massive help, and you power through the pain. 

The Flyers are hosting a family skate before training camp, and it will be your first time on skates in nearly six months. Your doctors have cleared it as long as you take it slow and basically let Joel pull you around the rink but you don’t care. It gives you hope that one day you’ll be back to full strength. 

“Ready to do this thing?” Joel asks, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers. 

You nod enthusiastically and let him pull you from the bench to the tunnel and down to the boards. Joel steps on the ice first, keeping his hands up in case you need them for support. A few of the significant others notice what’s happening and they erupt in applause once both your feet are planted on the surface. Joel joins them, his eyes watering when he sees how happy you are to be skating again. 

“I do believe you promised me a few laps lover boy,” you wink. 

“Yes ma’am,” Joel giggles as he mock salutes. He places his hands in yours and guides you gently, careful not to go too fast or get too close to other groups. The two of you giggle and stop to kiss frequently but no one says anything. You’ve worked incredibly hard to get here and they’re perfectly content letting you have your moment. Standing at centre ice you feel complete, and you know it’s all thanks to Joel. 

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @samsteel​ @kiedhara​ @tortito​ @boqvistsbabe​ @iwantahockeyhimbo @himbos-on-ice​ if you want to be added just shoot me an ask :)

[rheawritessometimes]

{ Childe x GN!Reader }

{ Summary } Childe gets an owie while sparing. Series Masterlist

{ Warnings } Violence, Swearing, Angry Reader, Injury, Physical Intimacy (Kissing).

{ Notes } Hurting Childe just a little because he refused to come home for me. Lost the 50/50. Reader is a sword user. Reader is suggested to be the Traveler. Self-indulgent again because all my writing is. This one is a real trainwreck but I didn't want to go too long without posting. Something better than nothing? Masterlist

{ Word Count } 2,404

Meeting Childe at the Golden House every week had been your routine for a while now. Right after you had defeated him the first time, he immediately begged you to train with him and you gave in, unable to bear those puppy-dog eyes. And the entire week he spent pestering you about it.

The whole fiasco with Osial had been put behind the both of you. It was probably true that you were too quick to forgive Childe, but he was just so charming. Not to mention he often paid for your meals, suggesting going out to eat after your sessions or if he saw you around the harbor. On a few occasions, you had been out eating with friends or on your own and found he had picked up your tab.

Since Liyue hadn't been destroyed and you got free food out of it, you really weren't all too upset about the situation. The Snezhnayan was actually pretty easy to get along with when Fatui matters weren't involved. He made you laugh too, so you supposed you could tolerate the once-weekly sparing sessions with him.

Childe called it sparing, but normal people didn't spar with actual weapons and fight like they were going to kill their partner. At first, you had tried to convince him it would be much better and safer for the both of you to use practice weapons instead of sharpened blades and arrows. He was quick to decline, saying something about both of you being competent enough not to get seriously hurt. You thought about refuting that on the basis that he had yet to beat you even once.

Even so, every week you found yourself pushing through the doors to the chamber Childe was always patiently waiting in. You'd never gotten there before him and wondered if he intentionally came early. You wouldn't be surprised if that was the case, he probably paced the room plotting his seemingly unobtainable victory.

The hydro vision paired with his combat experience and skill made him a difficult opponent, but he didn't seem terribly good at strategy. He might have been careless because it wasn't a real fight, but somehow you doubted that. He seemed the type to always give it his all. It could be that was his problem, since his loss usually came due to his exhaustion. Maybe if he didn't spend so much energy trying to show off he'd actually be a proper challenge.

"You're finally here," Childe proclaimed dramatically, voice echoing off the walls, "I thought you might have gotten lost on the way or something. Was starting to worry I'd need to go out and rescue you."

"I'm fifteen minutes early, Childe. How long have you been waiting?" you asked dryly, raising your eyebrow questioningly. You took a moment to shrug your adventuring pack off your shoulders and drop it near the door. You rolled your shoulders, relieved to be free of the weight.

"Ahah, anyways, we should get started. I have some business to attend to today," he responded, indiscreetly ignoring your question. It shouldn't have been very surprising that he didn't wait for your response before sending an arrow flying in your direction, but he'd always waited for you to signal you were ready before starting in the past.

Materializing your sword out of habit more than anything else, you raised it to block the arrow with the flat of the blade. The arrow bounced off the metal with a weak dink, clattering to the ground. If you'd reacted a moment later it would have pierced you.

You shot Childe a dirty look, irate from the cheap shot. He responded by grinning wider and taking aim again. You silently promised that he would face your wrath shortly.

Advancing towards him, you swatted the arrow flying your way with your sword. A bow would be less effective at close range, so you intended to close the distance. The redhead laughed, a hint of nervousness creeping into the sound at the pace of your advance. Or perhaps it was the building rage in your eyes.

The bow dematerialized, now Childe held dual hydro-blades in his hands in anticipation of close combat. Once in range, he immediately swiped at you with a blade. You stepped back out of the way, quickly bringing up your sword to parry the next slash coming from the opposite blade.

Childe seemed encouraged by you backing away, a smug look crossing his face. You furrowed your brows, he was so unthoughtful. He insists on using real weapons, shoots at you before you're ready, and now he has the audacity to get cocky.

You raise your blade to swing down at him and he catches your sword on crossed hydro-blades. He lets out a little huff of air, not expecting you to strike with such force, but his arms hold steady. You swiftly draw your blade back to slash at him again. Thorough training has you swiping at him with practiced ease while Childe is forced to switch to the defensive.

It gives you a sort of satisfaction to see his expression change to one of worry, it was your first time seeing such a look on him. You had no intention of actually hurting him, but it was nice to scare him a little. Maybe after this, he'd take the dangers of sparing with actual weapons a little more seriously. But probably not.

You're hardly thinking when his hydro-blades finally fail to parry your blows, the flat of your blade slamming into the side of his chest resulting in a soft crack barely loud enough to reach your ears. A look of surprise crosses your face when he lets out a pained grunt, what had happened finally being processed in your mind.

Immediately you drop your sword, ignoring it as it clatters to the ground before dematerializing. You were internally relieved to see his hydro-blades dissipate too, it would have been terribly unsportsmanly of him to stab you now. Stepping forward on instinct, you pause as you realize you're not exactly sure what to do.

Childe clutches his chest as he coughs a few times and a flood of panic washes over you. If you broke his ribs, his lungs could have been punctured. That would be bad.

"Fuck, that hurts," he huffed out before he attempted to gingerly sit down, right in the middle of the Golden House. Childe winced at the movement, but he managed to settle, leaning on his arms for support. His breathing was heavy from the strain of sparing and you felt extremely guilty, broken ribs had a tendency to hurt terribly and pain would flare up with every breath. At least he seemed to be breathing okay, so his lungs were probably intact.

"Let me get something to ease the pain," you said hastily, jogging towards the door to grab your bag. Your first thought was to numb him up before bringing him to Bubu Pharmacy to get some proper help.

"Aw, are you actually worried about me?" he cooed teasingly, maintaining that signature annoying grin despite the pain that followed him speaking. It was easy to ignore him as you rummaged through your bag for something useful.

It crossed your mind that it would be exceedingly difficult to get him all the way back to Liyue if you gave him anything strong. That limited your options rather greatly, adding that on to your lacking medical knowledge and limited variety of resources left you with fewer options than you would have liked. He probably could make it back without any anesthetic but it would be slow and you'd feel terrible for it.

Even with your lack of selection, you were thankful to have some knowledge and materials for this sort of thing, adventuring made you better at improvising and you learned a lot along the way. Taking everything into consideration, you decided it would be best to go with something topical. You could make a salve to numb up the area and then hopefully drag him to Bubu Pharmacy.

"I'm really sorry, Childe," you apologized, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Oh don't worry about it, this isn't the first time I've broken my ribs. Probably won't be the last, either," he replied with a laugh, which caused him to wince. You only frowned at him as you pulled out some plants to grind up. A rock would have worked, but you kept a mortar and pestle for this kind of thing after realizing you'd be doing it often.

You were soon mashing some leaves and a few petals into a paste, with some water Childe so graciously provided. Having a hydro user around was rather convenient when practicing field medicine.

"Whatcha makin'?" Childe asks after a short period of silence, leaning over to get a closer look. You wonder if he's actually curious or if he just can't tolerate the quiet. It seemed the two of you were always talking when you were together, save for when your sparing got too intense to spare the breath.

"A salve to numb you up so I can drag you to Bubu Pharmacy," you responded, still mostly focused on getting the paste to the right consistency.

"What? No, I can't go. I've got work to do," he argued, moving to stand up now.

You were quick to grab his wrist to prevent him from getting up, furrowing your brows. Childe paused, waiting for your explanation.

"You have at least one broken rib, whatever you need to do can wait," you told him sternly, maintaining eye contact. He turned his gaze away from you to hum in contemplation. He knew well enough that giving injuries time to heal was important, but so was his job.

"Fine, I guess what I was supposed to do today isn't that important," he relented, leaning back into a comfortable position once more. Childe had a feeling that if he had insisted on working you'd have found a way to stop him anyway.

"Can you take off your shirt?" you asked, trying to sound as casual and not awkward as possible once you were satisfied with the consistency of the paste. You would have offered to allow him to apply it himself but you figured it would be less painful this way, plus you'd need to bandage his chest afterward, so it didn't make much of a difference.

"Oh my, you're not usually this bold," he teased, reaching to begin undoing the clasps holding his jacket together. His remark made you decide against offering your assistance despite the awareness that even just wriggling out of the jacket probably hurt. It's okay to be a little petty sometimes. As a treat.

Once his torso was bare you shifted your position to be a bit closer and examined his side. There was already the beginning of bruising, but it would get much darker by tomorrow. You ignored the scars and other bruises that were present, very aware of the fact the redhead would tease you for staring if you looked any longer.

"I promise I'll be gentle," you assured, "But it'll probably hurt a little."

Childe just hummed, waving off your warning, so you gathered some of the salve on your fingers. You silently wished you'd had gloves that weren't absorbent with you so your hands wouldn't grow numb later.

It was a quick process of spreading the paste over his ribs, but his eyes remained on you the entire time. You couldn't be sure if he was just interested in what you were doing, but it surprised you that he remained entirely silent.

"It'll take a little while to numb up. I'm going to bandage your chest for support. This will hurt more," you informed him, dragging your pack towards you to dig out a roll of bandages.

"Don't worry, I'm a tough boy," he laughed in response, and you could only smile and shake your head at him. You had faith in his strength, but that didn't stop the guilt you felt over being responsible for his pain. It did make you feel better when he started reminiscing on past injuries he'd sustained in battle once you began bandaging him. How he could look back on them so fondly was a mystery to you.

At first, you were mindful to touch him as little as possible while you were wrapping the bandages. They needed to be a little tight to provide support but you tried to ensure they put as little pressure on his ribs as possible. Unfortunately, your fingers started to grow numb and you hadn't realized you'd been bandaging too tightly until Childe let out a soft grunt of pain.

"Fuck, sorry," you apologized, quickly unraveling the last section of bandaging to rewrap it more loosely.

"Don't worry about it," he said, thinking for a moment before adding, "But, if you want to make it up to me, a kiss would make me feel better."

Pausing in your ministrations, you looked up to see a cheeky grin on his face. You raised a brow, giving him an entirely unimpressed expression. It wasn't entirely uncommon for him to flirt like this, trying to get a reaction out of you. But as you reached one hand up to gently grab his chin, it was his turn to become flustered.

Leaning up, you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek before moving away and releasing your hold on him. You patted his cheek twice, giving him an amused grin.

"You're welcome."

"Hey! That doesn't count!" Childe immediately whined, pouting at you. You could only laugh at his playful antics as you finally finished wrapping his chest.

"You're cruel, you know that?" the Snezhnayan grumbled, eyebrows still furrowed as he continued to pout. He really did seem like a spoiled kid at this moment and you laughed again, causing his frown to deepen.

You knew his demeanor was all theatrical, but as you stared at his expression you found yourself leaning towards him again. You gently pressed your lips to his, smiling into the kiss when his hands eagerly flew up to your face. You indulged in the kiss for a few moments, smirking when he followed you as you pulled away. Putting a hand on his shoulder, you halted his attempt to continue.

"You can have another kiss once you get checked out at Bubu Pharmacy."

-

If you read all that, I'm sorry lol. I wanted to spend more time on it but I don't want to take too long posting things. Anyways, if you have any better ideas for what I should write send them in. Please.

There's a part two now: Part 2

[justnerdthings]

New Beginnings Ch. 10

F!Reader x Liu Kang/Kung Lao

Woo! Chapter 10! Never thought I'd make it this far. I wonder how far it'll go!

Brace yourselves, my simps. This chapter has a little surprise.

Despite Lao having ‘helped’ you with your arcana a few days ago, even if it was almost a tragedy, Liu was still reluctant to let him anywhere near you. Lao had the ability to get under your skin. He could get under anyone’s skin. And despite you and Liu having made feelings known, you were surprisingly comfortable with one another. Since you’d almost speared Lao, you had learned more control of your arcana. Meditation was key. Focus. Your emotions were a trigger. Anger and fear worked wonderfully, but they were unpredictable. You needed to learn to control your arcana, not simply use it.

It was not easy. Liu made it sound so easy. He made it look so easy. But try as you might, the ground always refused to listen. Move a rock? No, it broke apart most of the time. But at least you’d stopped shaking the ground so violently. The monks were thankful of that. Raiden too.

“Perhaps you should meditate,” Liu gently suggested. But, seeing your annoyed expression, he realised that, perhaps, you were too tired after today’s session. He may have been pushing you too hard… He’d back off. At least, for now. “Or maybe a break?” He offered.

You sighed heavily and let yourself sit down in the sand. This arcana bullshit was just so mentally exhausting. You covered your face with your hands and fell back. “I’ll never get the hang of this, Liu.”

“You will. You’re already more in control than you were a week ago.” Liu sat next to you.

“I just feel like this is taking too long.”

“Mortal Kombat is not for another five years,” He reminded you. “You have plenty of time.”

“Five years isn’t that long.”

“You will be ready.”

You sighed and dragged your hands down your face to peek at him. “Are you always so positive?”

He grinned. Liu was thumbing his prayer beads. “I try to be.”

“Well… Stop it.”

He lifted a brow, but didn’t look over to you. “What use is being negative?”

“You don’t have to be negative. Just… be real with me.”

“Real?” He nodded and took a deep breath. You were asking for the truth again. “Five years is not a long time to train you to become strong enough to defeat Shang Tsung. But you do not need to defeat Shang Tsung. You just need to defeat your opponent. Shang Tsung will only fight when all his fighters have been beaten. If somehow you are the only one left of us when that time comes, then we will be in trouble.”

You laughed at the idea of outliving Liu or Lao. “If that happens, we’re doomed.”

His grin returned. “You don’t need to be the best fighter. You just need to do your best.”

You turned your head to watch him. You knew you weren’t going to be the best fighter. Not by a long shot. But finally hearing it--getting permission for it, it lifted a weight off your shoulders. You let a heavy sigh of relief escape you. Liu looked over to you with concerned eyes. You reached out and took his hand that held his prayer beads. You gently rolled the beads between your fingers as he watched your hand. “I don’t… I don’t know how good I’m going to be--how good my best will be. But you can count on it being there.”

Liu’s grin softened and warmed. It was a promise, he could hear it in your voice, and it put some of his own anxiety to rest. There had been some worry that you might give up and leave. But now he was sure you meant what you said. You were staying. You knew you might die, but you were going to stay anyway and fight. Liu watched as you rolled his beads between your fingers idly. He couldn’t recall anyone ever holding his prayer beads. He always had them around his wrist. They never left. But, he didn’t mind you playing with them. It felt… nice.

Those feelings were returning. Though, he supposed they had never left. He swallowed the growing lump in his throat. “You’re doing it again, Y/N.”

You stopped fiddling with his prayer beads and looked up to his face with knit brows. He looked at you out the corner of his eyes. He gripped your hand for a moment and you realised what he was talking about. Your face grew hot.

You two hadn’t acted on your feelings. You still weren’t sure you even had feelings. But spending more time with Liu had made you closer. Your trust had grown. You were friends. “I’m sorry,” you said and pulled your hand from his gently. “I didn’t mean to.”

“That’s alright.” Liu sighed heavily. You could see a small twinge of pain pass his face.

Guilt came over you. You hated being that person--the one who broke someone’s heart. Maybe you hadn’t actually broken his heart, but you weren’t exactly helping it. “I’m sorry, Liu. You’re great, I just…”

“It’s fine.”

“Then how come it doesn’t feel fine?”

He smiled. “Because you care.”

You sighed and sat up. You stared down at the sand. This would have been so much easier if you knew how to react to this kind of situation. “I’ve never had one.”

He lifted a brow.

“A boyfriend,” you admitted. “I was never liked enough I guess.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt love. Not romantically anyway.”

“I haven’t either.”

Your brows knotted as you looked to him. “But you said—”

“I said I’ve thought of you. I don’t know if it’s romantic. But it’s… nice.”

“Nice?”

“I don’t know how to describe it. It’s different.”

“A good different.” You nodded, understanding him. What you felt for him was different as well. And it was nice.

“It’s not like the love I have for Lao. He’s a brother to me. He’s family. I would die for him.”

You watched him struggle to find words.

“I would die for you as well. You… It’s not at all like a sister. I don’t know what it is.”

“When you think of me, what do you think about?”

He grimaced. He shifted awkwardly. “I really don’t think I should answer that.”

Your face grew hot again. “Sex?”

He flinched at the word. “Not… entirely,” he said hesitantly.

You felt your heart skip a beat. ‘Not entirely.’ What the hell did that mean? Was that a yes? Had he thought about you two like that? That’s what it sounded like. You wouldn’t lie, the thought had crossed your mind more than a few times. But it wasn’t because you were in love with him. You were just curious. You’d never experienced sex before… at least not with another person. That was a story for another day.

“I just wonder what it would be like to be with you. What would it feel like.” Liu said. He looked back to his hand, remembering yours that was in it only a moment ago. “You have soft hands…”

This was starting to feel… freaky. You both had the same thoughts, hadn’t you? This wasn’t exactly new, he’d seem to have a knack for understanding you. But now it was you understanding him. You’d… you’d never had this kind of connection with someone before. Even your closest friends hadn’t had this level of familiarity with you. “You’re curious,” you stated. You knew. You knew because you were curious.

He nodded and closed his hand around the beads.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” You asked, having the feeling that he was. Again, you knew it, because you were one too.

He flinched again. “I grew up in a monastery. Where celibacy is a virtue.”

“So you never even…”

Liu shook his head.

“Not even a kiss?”

He forced a small chuckle. “Only from grateful women I’ve helped. And only on the cheek. First one really took me by surprise.”

“I bet…”

“You?”

You frowned and shook your head. “Same… just from family.”

“I wish I had been so lucky.”

That was right. Liu had been an orphan. Your frown deepened. “Do you remember your parents at all?”

He shook his head. “Just being on the streets. The monks told me I was ‘half-dead’ when they found me. They were surprised when I recovered as well as I did.”

“And I bet the monks weren’t very big on affection.”

Another forced chuckle. “No. Not physically anyway. Words of praise and encouragement mostly.”

Well, that explained his habit of being so damn positive all the time. But, poor Liu was starved of real affection. “So with all the women you’ve met, you never thought about them?”

“I never spent much time with them to form these kinds of feelings.”

“So, it’s probably not me, it’s just the opportunity…” you reasoned, feeling your stomach turn sour.

He looked up with knotted brows. There was a sense of urgency to him. “No… It…” He sighed. “I don’t know. I hope not.”

“You hope not?”

“I meant what I said before. You’d be hard to beat.”

You sucked in a breath. You really wanted that to be true. You did. You really did. But you weren’t sure if it was. Doubt. You were doubting. You always doubted. It was easier to doubt. Then if it did turn out to be false, you weren’t hurt so much. You’d expected it. You’d been ready for it… That icy chill of anxiety creeped up from your chest. You took another deep breath and tried to will it away. You scooted closer to him. He lifted a brow curiously as he watched you. “So… Is this what’s wrong with Lao? Guy just needs to get laid?” Humor fixed every awkward situation.

Liu almost looked relieved with your humor. He laughed and looked away. “Probably. He wants to start a family and start training his children for Mortal Kombat.”

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“Do you want a family?”

He took a deep breath. “I never gave it much thought.” But you could see his eyes stare off as he thought about it.

“So… No?”

“Maybe.”

You huffed. “I do. Ever since I was kid, I dreamed of having a family. A husband, a couple kids, a dog, cat, white picket fence. The whole deal.”

“That sounds lovely.”

“It sounds boring,” you told him.

He grinned. “But you like boring.”

“I do… I did.” You weren’t so sure anymore. Being here had exposed you to something different every day.

“So what sounds better now?”

“I don’t know. Here?” You gestured broadly and looked up at the statue of Raiden. “It’s something new everyday. New information. New injuries. New training… New friends.”

“New experiences,” Liu added.

You looked at him. He was watching you. No, not you. Your lips.

Your chest tightened. Your eyes shifted between his eyes, trying to read them. He was definitely staring at your lips. You weren’t sure why, but you moistened your lips as your heart began to race. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach. Oh no. This was it, wasn’t it? This was how it was going to happen.

Your jaw clenched. What do you do? Go for it? First real kiss? What if it was awful? What if you hated it? What if he hated it? Oh, god, what if you were an absolutely horrible kisser? Liu would be great. He was great at everything. Why wouldn’t he be great at kissing too? But you? No. You were awful at everything. Your heart raced with anxiety.

Liu noticed some color drain from your face. He wasn’t sure his was the right color either. Reaching a hand up, he inched around the back of your neck, glad, and nervous, when you didn’t pull away. But you had stiffened. Liu could feel the skin on the back of your neck break into goosebumps. His own heart was banging in his chest as he leaned forward. Liu had left about an inch between you.

You were frozen despite the heat radiating off of him. You held your breath, scared to breathe with him so close. This was it. This was it! What do you do? There was still time to pull away--to stop this before it happened. But part of you didn’t want to stop this. You’d never gotten this close to a kiss before. And now it was Liu who was giving you the opportunity. Like when you reached towards his flame days ago, you were hesitating--doubting.

His grip tightened on the back of your neck. And just as he’d done when you hesitated with his fire, he made the decision for you. He pulled you in.

Your lips connected with his.

Your breath hitched. Your heart skipped several beats. You clenched your eyes shut. His hot lips pressed against yours made a chill run up your spine. Oh god, were you awful at this. You were so stiff, so unnatural. You didn’t know what to do. How were you supposed to kiss during your first kiss?! Your fingers curled into your pants.

You were thankful when he finally pulled away, hand leaving your neck. Your lungs were on fire--not literally. You allowed yourself to breathe again. You allowed your eyes to open slowly, timidly. Liu was looking away. You frowned. He didn’t like it. You were right. You were awful. He was great--at least you assumed he was. You didn’t really pay attention. All you remembered was his lips being hot, and you freaking out. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be. It was nice.” Liu grinned.

It was… nice? He was smiling. Your brows knotted. “R-really?”

He nodded. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I…” You hesitated. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“Me either.”

“Maybe if I had known it was coming…” That was stupid reason. You saw it coming. You panicked when you saw the first hint of it.

“I’m sorry.”

If you just hadn’t been so stiff and frozen in fear, maybe you would have enjoyed it better. “Maybe I just… need practice.”

He glanced at you curiously. “Practice?”

Oh, god, what were you saying? Your face grew hotter than ever, like you had a sudden fever. “I mean…”

“Do you want to try again?” He sounded so eager. Perhaps more than he wanted to admit. You didn’t want to admit that a second chance excited you either.

You stared at him.

He stared at you.

You were daring each other to move first.

This was not how you imagined your first kiss would be. Or your second one. But you leaned towards him anyway. He caught your face in his hand gently before reconnecting with your lips. Your heart was about to beat out of your chest. This was surreal. This was absolutely surreal. Forcing your body to relax--a real feat for the moment, your lips parted slightly and your head tilted. Liu seemed to melt into you. One of his hands gripped the back of your neck again. He pulled you closer. You fought a sudden urge to moan into his lips, but Liu seemed to have lost that battle himself. He grunted softly into yours.

You didn’t know what you were doing, but you were doing it.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

@ancientowlgirl @miss-nori85

[kpophubb]

hi honey 🕊💌

first thank you for your warmest words and kindness , you aren’t late I send it today in between my sessions 📖🥺🥹😭❤️

I’m so happy for you <3 congratulations 🎉, hope you can follow your dream and become someone you want to be ~ plus I wish you a lot of positive experiences 🥰💪🏻🎉 👩🏻‍⚕️

Ukraine 😔 I miss everyone so much , I miss my home 🏡 my dog ( I’m not even sure if I’ll be able to go there back one day and if it’s not ruined by weapons and bombs .😣😞

I really appreciate your support , like so much that tbh it feels unreal ❤️

Today I’m having a very hard day I haven’t been crying for about 2 weeks I think , as long as I can remember, but today I did like 4 times (( thank you for kind words , I actually took a screenshot to read them again 🥺💝

Today I was sitting and thinking that I’m so tired .. I’m so exhausted always looking for acceptance , always expecting ppl to be nice to me, like same I am to them..

I’m enfj and I think it’s the most insecure type of all of them I read the profile and it says I’m always looking for acceptance , validation and praise from others … and that’s true , I don’t know what kind of creature -freak am I ? .. z, feeding and living literally for others approval 😔

Did you name your niece ?:) I guess you might have some family business going on but ! Don’t worry posting ff late , pls STAY day is on august 3 heh omg 🤧🥰😍🥰

Also don’t forget about your own happiness and well being , I hope you are surrounded with support and love ☺️😇😍

Have you got any other dreams recently ?

What books 📚 have you bought?

Could you pls put a link somewhere for that fic with hy + sunghoon? So it’s easier for me to find 🥲💓

Todays song recommendation , also feel free to share smth with me🤗💖

Good night & have a nice day / morning , everything that you are having atm. Sending hugs. And I love YOU TOO🥺🥹💗

~ 🐁 anonie:)

Hi anonie 😭🥺💕🤧 first of all the jakey heart pics omg🫠🤧 (hit me right in the gut and heart) and our baby riki pic 💝🥹 aaah the greatest start to a message! Ahh it must be quite devasting right?:( like you’ve suddenly been thrown into a nightmare and everything feels so so foreign and frustrating. There’s no guarantee if you’ll ever be able to go to your country/home back and I picture you feeling so lonely. *pats on the shoulder* please stay strong. And keep working towards finding a new home, focusing on jobs for now. Life sometimes gets so unpredictable and it feels like everything’s over and you’ve lost, but a bad turn doesn’t mean you’ve hit a dead end. New doors always open and it’s very tough at the start but later on, you will reach a beautiful destination I promise. 💓 and I am literally an enfj too? My personality is a mix of ENFJ and ENFP. So I understand what you’re talking about. We’re very loyal and people’s person and that’s why it easily affects us when we’re not kindly treated by those around us. And getting other’s people approval/acknowledgment makes us feel so valid. But truth is, I adjusted myself to the reality of this world long time back. Not everyone is gonna be nice to you or be grateful to you no matter how nice you are to them or how much you help them. It’s some people’s nature. That doesn’t mean you have to stop being a nice and kind person to everyone around you. Just try to give without expecting anything in return ok? That’s how I’ve trained my mindset and I’m able to be happy now no matter what. As for the validation thing, I am not a confident person either and I have high self doubts and anxiety. I feel like I’m not good enough in a lot of cases and I often seek approval from others around me BUT I have changed that (and am still trying to) I have decided to be my own cheerleader. I tell myself that I’m worth it, I’m doing my best, I am enough etc. I find my spirits and acknowledgement from ME MYSELF. Bc think of it this way. No one knows your efforts more than you or god, so why do u let others who haven’t seen how hard you tried tell u that you’re bad/good at something? Don’t give anyone that right. To hold authority over how you feel about yourself my love. 💞 and don’t criticise yourself for being this way. There’s nothing wrong in yearning for others’ affection or approval or attention. Human beings were always created to be with eachother, no human being can exist alone. It’s how we were made by default.

And yes I did name my niece haha her name was decided even before she was born😆! Ill show u all the books directly when they arrive- reading books give me all this maturity since they’re always about young adult/slice of life/romance. Here is the link to my most favourite songs by bebe rexha that helped me so much in my rough times.( I’m a mess , sabotage , empty ) And ofc the link to my two fan fictions that involve hyunjin x sunghoon crossovers! (When you fangirl too much over another idol) & (when they find out their crush is dating another idol )

As of now I don’t have any other dreams 😛 apart from making tons of precious memories that I’ll be able to take with me for the next chapter of my life. Binge read books, Netflix dramas and animes, watch kpop comebacks and ofc go out with my best friend! 👯💞 I am friendly with almost everyone but I have only one best friend! Piece of advice to you: be friendly and nice with everyone but let only a few people get close to your heart. Since we get hurt easily and expect easily, don’t let your heart break by letting too many people in. 💘 have an even better day, much love & warm hugs! 🤗❤️

[stillebesat]

Beneath the Moon -Part 1

December Drabbles Day 18  Sanders Sides: Logan, Roman Blurb: After all the research he’d done, after all the signs he’d been experiencing. Logan needed someone to tell him he wasn’t crazy. And Roman...Roman had always been the one most likely to believe in the fantastical, the impossible, the...supernatural. Fic Type: Werewolf!AU Overall Fic Warnings: Bite Wound -Semi-Detailed, Dog Attack Mention, Injuries, War Talk, Fighting Talk, Death/Dying Talk Taglist in Reblog.  

“A werewolf.” 

Logan swallowed, fiddling with the loosely wrapped bandage on his hand as he kept his eyes firmly on Roman’s ankles. “I told you.” He said. “It isn’t logical.” 

“Hence why you came to me because I’m…what was that phrase you used the last time we…talked?” 

Logan ran his uninjured hand through his hair as he ducked his head. Why had he ever thought, after how they’d left things off, that Roman would actually help him? The unhealing bite wound had to be infected and addling his brains despite the numerous doctors visits and medications he’d been on this past month that would prove otherwise. 

“I believe I called you a ‘pompous prick of a prince stuck in a permanent delusional daydream.’” He whispered.

Roman snorted, uncrossing his legs as he leaned forward like a hawk about to snatch up his prey. “Trust the Brain to remember such a phrase after what? Fifteen years, Lo.” 

This was a mistake. Logan made a noncommittal sound as he hunched his shoulders. But he’d seen Roman and just---reacted, instinctively trusting that he would be able to help. 

After all the research he’d done, after all the signs he’d been experiencing. Logan needed someone to tell him he wasn’t crazy. And Roman...Roman had always been the one most likely to believe in the fantastical, the impossible, the...supernatural. “It’s what I’m good at.” He said, closing his eyes, again fidgeting with the bandage. “Remembering things.” 

He’d been teased constantly for his memory all throughout school. Been called Sherlock or Brain so often that half their graduating class didn’t know his actual name. 

Which made the fact that he couldn’t remember the fever filled two days after he’d received this...this bite...from that black dog--wolf?...more concerning.  

And after a month’s long session of ‘research’ into his wound, his further symptoms, and the circumstances around his bite and the dog--wolf that had bitten him…had led him to the only explanation that fit the entire experience. 

He’d been bitten by a werewolf. 

And if...IF this was true, his research pointed to the strong possibility that in under an hour, when the full moon rose, Logan would forcibly be changed from man to wolf. 

He didn’t want to believe it. 

But all the signs pointed to it. His sudden allergy to silver. Cats no longer liking him. An increase in appetite, especially for red meat--which Logan had historically disliked the taste of. His eyesight inexplicably improving to the point where he no longer needed to wear his glasses. His sense of smell and hearing randomly becoming overwhelming to the point he could barely function only to return to normal a split second later. And most importantly, the fact that the bite wound on his hand would not heal, which a very dusty book from the library had stated would not vanish until after the first full moon after the bite occurred---all pointed to him being a werewolf.

 But it wasn’t like Logan could just tell anyone about this theory of his. About what he thought could happen tonight.

After all, werewolves shouldn’t exist. 

To confide to anyone that he thought that they did and that he could become one tonight because he’d been bitten by a dog that looked like a wolf--

“And you thought...that I was still this...delusional Prince?” Roman asked, raising an eyebrow, his amber eyes glittering. “Willing to go along with any make-believe or fantasy adventure that comes my way at the drop of a hat?” 

Logan could feel the heat rising to his cheeks and hated himself for it. Of course it was crazy to expect that Roman of all people would believe him. 

In retrospect he probably was the worst choice Logan could have made when choosing to confide in someone. After all, they had been, for all intents and purposes, enemies for the past fifteen years. 

Yet Logan had momentarily forgotten that little fact. Had only remembered his childhood friend who had lived and breathed adventure growing up and would probably be the one most likely to believe him when he saw him pull into his driveway. 

A Child’s fantasy was a lot different from an Adult’s though.

And Roman...Roman had gone from wanting to be an Actor in high school to choosing to serve three tours overseas in the War and coming back a decorated hero. Someone who had seen the darker side of being a modern day knight in shining armor and yet had chosen to embrace that reality anyways. 

Even sitting, Roman commanded the room. He was all confidence, a lion lounging on his throne, claws only sheathed because there was no need to use them...yet. 

And if things went…badly. It was all too likely that he would use those warrior skills and shoot Logan the moment he...he changed. After all, Roman was now trained to see threats and take care of them.

Werewolves were historically, in their lore, always a threat. A danger to society.

Logan squeezed his eyes shut, conscious of how his heart rate had picked up. 

Mistake. Mistake! MISTAKE!

He had under an hour to get to a place where he could potentially shift in safety. Where he could test his theory of what he was and how he would change without endangering himself or any people who might be around and here he was talking to his high school enemy like he expected Roman to take him in like a lost injured puppy.

Logan pushed to his feet, bringing his bandaged hand to his chest protectively. “My apologies, Roman.” He said, unable to look up from the ground to properly face him. Roman probably was staring at him like he was a crazed loon after his sudden appearance on his doorstep and the ludicrous story he’d just told. “I shouldn’t have intruded in such a manner.” He turned for the door. “I’ll see myself out.”

He’d been so desperate to find someone, anyone to humor him. Someone he could trust. To help him test out his theory. To make sure that IF he changed. If something went wrong. That--that if he--he became a crazed bloodthirsty beast, there would be someone there to take care of it--keep him safe from hurting others. 

Or…if nothing happened. Which Logan desperately wanted to believe. That nothing would happen. That the moon would rise and he would just be standing there, perfectly fine and definitely embarrassed to have indulged in such a fancy...that someone would keep his momentary lapse in judgement quiet--

He highly doubted that Roman would keep this particular visit quiet. What sane person would? Logan probably looked like a crazed lunatic, showing up out of the blue in an old NASA t-shirt and worn jeans, spouting off theories on how he could be a new-made werewolf going to change for the first time tonight--Roman should have called the police as soon as he opened his mouth.

Logan would have, had their positions been switched. 

He tensed, breath hitching as Roman caught his wrist in an iron grip before he’d taken three steps, conscious of the fact that his childhood friend probably now knew twelve different ways to incapacitate him before he could blink.  

“You didn’t show me the bite wound.” Roman said, voice soft. “How can you tell me such a fantastical story and expect me to believe you if you don’t show me your key piece of proof?” 

Logan bit his bottom lip, daring to glance at his childhood friend, gauging how serious he was about seeing the injury. 

“Well?” Roman held out his hand, palm up towards Logan. “It’s not like I haven’t seen my fair share of battle wounds, Lo. I doubt your little bite will compare.”

That was true. Roman had seen battle. War. People dead and dying.

Logan steeled himself, he’d been careful about who touched his injured hand, not sure what the wound would do should it come in contact with another. “It’s not a little bite.” He said, reluctantly holding it out to him.  

He raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on his lips. “I’ll be the judge of that.” 

Logan looked away as Roman unraveled the bandage. His feet shifted in place as he glanced at the clock on the mantle, watching the second hand tick its way closer to the full moon’s rising. 

It was odd...Roman had never needed proof before. He’d been the sort to take people at their word and go harring off at the slightest hint of an adventure.

Obviously he had changed far more after high school than Logan had anticipated. It was--

Roman whistled as the last of the bandages fell to the ground. “This...happened a month ago?” He asked, turning Logan’s hand over studying the bite that formed a large crescent shape from his middle finger down to his wrist. 

“Twenty-eight days.” He corrected, wincing as Roman gently poked the wound. He’d been attacked on the last night of last month’s full moon cycle. 

“It looks--”

“Fresh?” Besides the visible lack of blood coming from the wound, it looked like it could have happened only minutes ago.

“Horrible.” Roman frowned. “I’ve seen men take sharpenal to their hands and this--just a bit more pressure and you could have lost your thumb and two fingers--”

Logan winced, his stomach twisting. “I know--I didn’t.” It had been a close thing though. He could have lost half his hand if the wolf had dug its teeth just half an inch deeper into his flesh and pulled, it was a miracle he could still use his fingers at all. Another inconsistency really, with normal dog bites. His hand still worked perfectly despite the large wound maring half of the surface that should have destroyed his tendons and muscles.

“And you’ve tried--”

“Everything short of surgery.” And with his hand able to function normally, no Doctor was willing to try that just yet, not after a single month. “Nothing heals it.” 

Roman hummed. “An unhealing wound.” He mumbled, looking up. He frowned, raising a hand to Logan’s chin, turning his head this way and that as he peered into his eyes. “Did you always have a golden tint to your irises?” He asked, trailing his fingers down to press gently against the side of Logan’s throat, where the pulse of his heart frantically pounded against Roman’s warm fingers.

Logan swallowed, feeling the color draining from his face. Golden tint? “No.” He whispered. “They’ve always been green. You know that.” 

Roman clicked his tongue, abruptly pulling away from him and crossing his arms. “Okay. Say, hypothetically, I don’t think you’re crazy.”

Logan blinked at the sudden change in tone. “You don’t?” He asked, not quite believing he was hearing this as pulling his hand back to his chest. It would be pointless to try and rebandage it with the moon so close to rising.

“Hypothetically.” Roman stressed, giving him a tight smile. “If you are going to turn into this--” He waved a hand around. “Werewolf creature. What exactly did you want my help for? Cus I highly doubt you’re thinking something stupid like true love’s kiss will work in this particular scenario of yours that you’ve set up.”

To Be Continued.  Part 2

[daydream-believin]

Recipe For Disaster 2: Electric Boogaloo

Summary: Jim is NOT happy about his sister’s boyfie. (not a part two despite the confusing name)

Warnings: swearing, a gilmore girls reference, divorce kids got daddy issues

Word Count: 5560, my longest yet woohoo

A/N: here it is im finally done with this. i- im tired. i love jim he was my favorite until doux came along but he can be a little bitch boy sometimes. and the word of the day is giggle im so sorry

tags: @alovesongshewrote​ hope i can deliver now that you have expectations lmao

It was a good Saturday. The trollhunters trio had gotten an early start on training, and thus Blinky had released them for an early lunch. It was a particularly successful day, with Claire really getting the hang of the shadow staff, so they decided to not make poor Jim cook for once and go out for a treat. And Toby really wanted a sandwich from Benoit’s.

They opted to walk to downtown instead of biking, as a way to cool down. Plus, it would give them time to digest their food on the walk back, before they returned to training once again. Although that was more of a problem for Jim and Toby, since Blinky wanted Claire to start reading a certain book this afternoon. She’d be in the library, quietly sitting while the boys go back to running around and fighting. The spring flowers had just started returning to Arcadia Oaks. The flowerbeds that decorated town added a cheery air to the day. Happily, Jim ran up in front to kick a pebble as they came up towards the bistro around the corner. He stopped in his tracks.

“Is Y/n’s boss flirting with her?”

The other two teens came around Jim to see. Y/n laughed at Douxie’s dumb joke and put her hand on his shoulder.

“And is she flirting back?” Jim asked incredulously.

Claire didn’t take this the same way Jim did. “Aww, that’s so cute.”

“No it’s not. It’s weird. And wrong.” Jim asserted.

“What are you talking about,” Claire lowered her brows with an annoyed tone.

“No, no. he’s right. Y/n doesn’t flirt. Or date. I’m not even sure she crushes.”

Claire shook her head, “That can’t be true, TP. She’s like, old. You two just didn’t notice it.”

“Oh, no, we noticed it. She went to every school dance alone, even senior prom.” Toby added. “It was kind of sad to be honest.”

“Remember that time that big movie star came into town? He was the prettiest guy I’d ever seen, and Y/n was just like ‘eh he’s okay, I guess’. We literally had a fight over that one.” Jim chuckled.

“I literally can’t imagine Y/n in a relationship. She’s just too all over the place.”

Claire rolled her eyes and gestured her hands towards the scene in front of them. “Well, she seems to be doing just fine now.”

Jim didn’t know why, but this made him a little huffy. “Whatever. It’s just a crush, anyways. She’ll get over it soon enough.”

Douxie leaned over to give Y/n a quick peck goodbye before he headed into Mr. Benoit’s to start his shift. He had swapped shifts with one of his coworkers for the day, so he could have the evening off. Y/n headed back to the bookstore. She tucked her hair behind her ear as she left, smiling to herself. The three trollhunters still stood right where they were, staring.

“I don’t think it’s just a crush, Jimbo.”

Jim was outraged. How. How was this happening. He could understand her not telling her family, their mother could be a bit nosy sometimes when it came to her daughter’s personal affairs. But his sister had often said she didn’t have enough time to pursue a love life whenever their mother probed her. There was no way she just started having said time. Right? It was curious, too, that out of all the people she could have chosen in Arcadia, she chose Douchey. That guy had girls fawning over him wherever he went. There was no way Y/n was into that.

Come to think of it, Y/n had been acting really strange ever since she had gotten that job at the bookstore. It was so easy to make her laugh now. She was actually wearing her hair in different styles instead of her signature. She actually enjoyed Barbara’s cooking. Or at least complimented it a lot now. Still a baffling action nonetheless. It was if she was experiencing the side effects of something. And that bookstore reeked of magic. Magic had the power to drive people out of their minds. He’d had plenty of first-hand experience with that. This whole situation was fishy.

“Well, I think it’s so cute they’re together now.” Claire said cheerily. He loved her but she wasn’t exactly the best when it came to making judgement calls. Hell, the fact that she was dating him after all he’s put her through was enough proof of that.

“Well, I think its magic.” Jim deadpanned.

“What.” Claire snapped.

“He’s got a spell on her! Some sort of enchantment. A charm!”

Toby was too tired from training today to deal with this. “I’ll agree, he does have charm, have you had him as a waiter? But not the kind of charm you’re implying here, Jim.”

“Douxie is my magic teacher, Jim. I promise, he’s a really nice guy.”

“Nope. There’s no way my sister would be into a guy, let alone a guy like,” He tried to find the right words but just sputtered, “Like that!” he motioned to poor Doux, who was changing the specials sign out front. Douxie was one of those bistro employees who always got asked to draw up the sign because his calligraphy was so good. Doux had to admit, his handwriting was messy compared to Merlin’s standards, but to Mr. Benoit’s he was a calligraphy god.

Toby looked Doux up and down. “I don’t know man, Y/n is kind of alternative.”

“Yeah, who do you think helps me dye my hair all the time? And sneaks me into concerts?” Claire added.

“Okay. I get that. But he’s just not good enough for her.” Jim said through gritted teeth.

Toby sighed. “Then who is?” he asked wearily.

Jim got defensive. “I don’t know! A prince, maybe. One that’s in line to be king. Not one of those waiting-for-a-brother-to-die ones, but a real one.” He nodded his head like any of that was realistic. “Definitely not just some wizard who works in a bookstore.”

“She’s just some wizard who works in a bookstore, though.”

There was no getting through to Jim. “Think about it guys, my sister, suddenly getting cozy with a magic man? Bushigal. She’s under a spell. I’m going to fight him.”

“No, no you’re not,” Claire asserted, “You’re going to have lunch like we planned AND you’re going to be civil.” Claire and Toby both grabbed one of his arms and dragged him towards the bistro.

***

The hostess guided them to the table. Claire sat across from Jim and Toby. They were handed the menus. Claire showed interest in the lunch specials while Toby flipped to the sandwiches. Jim just brooded while he stared unblinking into the first page. And by chance, and by the fact that this scene would be boring and or pointless if not, Douxie was the waiter for said table. After handing off the check to one of his other tables, he waltzed over to the trio, happy to see his protégé.

“Ello lads, how’s it going? How’d that test go today, Claire?” Douxie ruffled her hair. Jim narrowed his eyes at the sight.

“Horrible! I bombed it for sure!”

Toby rolled his eyes, “You say that about every test, Claire, and then it turns out you aced them.”

“No I mean it this time, TP. I didn’t even finish the last three questions. It was so bad!”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Douxie chuckled. Oh to have the problems of these youngsters. Claire and Toby got into some sort of glare match where they both just made more and more aggressive funny faces at each other. Both finally conceded and they fell into giggles. Douxie was glad to see Claire having so much fun, but he noticed someone else at the table who was not having said fun. His apprentice Claire’s boyfriend, his master’s champion, and his darling Y/n’s brother, looking like his dog ate his homework, or whatever teenagers got angry about these days.

“Cheer up, lad.” Doux grinned at Jim, “Hangry? I get that. You look like you could use a good meal.”

“Well strangely I am in a cafe”

Claire kicked Jim under the table. He tried his best to stifle the grunt of pain. “Don’t mind Jim, he’s a tad grumpy from a bad training session. And we’ll take waters all around.” She smiled. Doux hurried off to go get their glasses.

In the end, Toby couldn’t pick a sandwich. He had three favorites and couldn’t decide between them yet. Jim and Claire had his back. They both got one of them and he got the third. Then they would all share the halves. A good plan. And it was a delicious one. Toby was thankful for his partners.

***

After finishing up training and walking Claire home, Jim and Toby went their separate ways. Toby had promised his Nana he’d go with her and her boyfriend to see a play in the next town over. Jim had promised his mother he’d be home for a family dinner. He wasn’t able to be home in time to cook, so this was going to be a roulette wheel when it came to food. He was betting on Y/n. As he came to the front door, he cracked it first and smelled the air before going inside as to make sure his candid reaction wouldn’t be bad. The aroma coming from the house was heavenly. Alright, Y/n. Jackpot.

Jim swung the door open wide as he strutted in. Everyone was in the kitchen, it looked like. He put his bag up and called to his family that he was home. Which was met with the two voices he had expected, but one he hadn’t. And it was a voice he didn’t want to hear right now. Douxie. Hisirdoux fucking Casperan. In his house. In his kitchen. In his territory.

Jim immediately felt his muscles tense up. He took a deep breath and put on his best fake smile before heading into the kitchen. Y/n was sautéing something over the stove. Barbara was stirring something which meant that she had insisted on helping and Y/n had done the equivalent of giving your younger sibling a game controller that wasn’t plugged in. The offending wizard was leaning over the bar counter from the other side, chatting away as if he had any reason to be here.

Once Y/n caught sight of Jim, she bubbled. “Jim! How was hiking? You three have fun?” she knew where he actually spent his Saturdays but they had to keep up the rouse for their mom. While Y/n particularly didn’t care for the lying, she also agreed with Jim that some things are best kept from worrisome mothers. Barbara gave her enough shit already for her frequent homecomings from bars and shows in the wee hours of the morning with scrapes and bruises. If their mother knew about Jim’s marginally more dangerous late-night escapades, she might actually have a nervous breakdown.

“Oh yeah, it was great. We saw a deer. It had a baby with it.”

“Majestic.” She turned and gestured to the man at the counter, “You remember Douxie, right?”

“Of course,” Jim said through gritted teeth forced into a smile. “In fact we just saw each other at the bistro earlier today.”

A timer went off. Y/n expressed her delight that something in the oven was done. Barb got some plates out of the cabinet, while Y/n pulled the main course out of the oven. She handed Jim the plates and silverware and sent him to go set the table. Jim supposed this was better than having to talk to Douxie. Until Douxie insisted on helping him. Great.

“So, Jim, I’ve heard a lot about you-”

“I’m sure you have.” Jim cut him off. Douxie was a bit confused, but figured he was still grumpy like he was earlier at the bistro. He’d leave the moody teen alone then. Perhaps he be in a better mood after getting some food in him and spending time with his family. Doux would try for conversation again then.

Jim did not get any less grumpy, to Douxie’s dismay. And Y/n’s. Y/n really needed both her family members to like her boyfriend. They were all each other had, and any strife would put a strain on their tiny closely-knit family unit. Y/n loved Douxie, and she wanted Jim and Barbara to love him to. To accept him. It would help put a validity to her feelings. If they liked him then she had made the right choice. She could never be with someone her loved ones hated. And as a bonus, it would be nice if she could give Douxie the family he never had. He deserved as much.

Luckily, Barbara had taken quite a liking to Arcadia’s most charming waiter. Jim however, was subtly hostile. Or at least he thought he was being subtle. It was very apparent to the other three at the table. As Douxie was animatedly telling Barb some story that she was laughing very hard at, Y/n turned to glare at her brother. Jim tried to feign innocence. Y/n rolled her eyes and put some more salad on her plate. Jim noticed the bracelet on her wrist. Funny, she had never been one for jewelry before. But she started wearing this one everyday right around the time she started working at the bookstore. Interesting.

Douxie finished up his story and turned his attention to Jim. He’d try once again to engage the trollhunter. He knew how important this was to Y/n. Douxie was going to make this little man like him if it was the last thing he did.

“I saw the school play you were in a couple weeks ago, Jim. You were quite the actor, and I know Shakespeare’s tough. Have you ever thought of going into it professionally? Claire’s told me she wants to. You two could be one of those celebrity power couples.”

Jim just offered a short thanks that was less hostile but not exactly enthusiastic either. Well, at least Doux was getting somewhere. It’s a start. Y/n was content with this. Jim would warm up to Douxie eventually. It didn’t have to be right away, even if she would have liked that.

After the dinner conversation had died down and the food long gone, Y/n set out to clear the table and clean the kitchen. Barbara also went to help her, but Douxie assured her he’d take care of it. He was a world class waiter after all. He stacked up the plates as Y/n grabbed the dinner dishes. And so the two set off to the world behind the wall, to clean or canoodle or whatever. Jim wasn’t too keen on thinking about it. His mother pulled him into the living room to sit on the couch and preceded to ask him twenty questions about Claire. He was almost happy when the lovebirds came back.

And then his mother made them all play some card game for three hours straight. All while the lovebirds flirted away right in front of them. It was like they had no shame. This guy just had to have Y/n under a spell or something, Jim was sure of it. There was no other explanation. As she giggled at another one of Douxie’s stupid jokes that weren’t even funny, Jim felt sick.

Finally it came time for that douchebag to leave. Jim rolled his eyes at his mother and sister fawning over Doux as he made his way to the door. He slinked over behind them to watch the guy leave and make sure that he left. As Douxie went through the door he gave Y/n a quick peck and said the stupidest line Jim had ever heard. Who does this guy think he is. Once the door was shut and Doux had indeed walked away, Jim scoffed.

“Bet that guy has a bank of pickup lines he’s memorized. There’s no way he came up with that on the fly.”

***

Jim was furious. He fought like a madman during training. Draal was just making it worse by encouraging it; he really liked the kid’s fire today. Draal had no idea what was up with him right now, but Jim was giving it his all. The trollhunter was rarely this aggressive. Blinky looked on as Jim growled and shouted with every strike. He hadn’t seen his son frothing at the mouth like this before. It was glorious. Keep this up and Angor Rot won’t know what hit him.

Claire and Toby were also training, with Arrggh, albeit with not even half as much gusto as Jimbo. They were also a wee bit distracted, trying to wind Jim down from said gusto. He came over to where they were to get some water. Taking this opportunity, Toby tried appealing to him once again.

“Dude, give it a rest, this is just like how you got all pissy about your mom dating Strickler.” Toby was exasperated.

“Y/n can’t date guys, my mother can’t date guys, no men should be frequently invited into our household! No boys allowed! Me and Toby are the only boys allowed!” Jim growled. He stormed off across the keep to go land another hit on Draal.

Blinky blinked. He was taken aback at the hostility from his charge. “So, do either of you have any idea as to what that was about.”

“Right now the winning theory is that this is like, about how heartbroken his mother was when his dad left, so now he doesn’t want that to happen again or something,” Claire sighed. Her teacher really was a good guy. Lonely too. Just like Y/n. They were going to be good for each other. Her boyfriend should be happy for them. Jim took a particularly dirty swipe at Draal. Toby grunted in sympathy. “Or maybe Douxie just poked Arcadia’s most possessive bear.”

***

Jim and Toby were walking downtown, enjoying their free time after a trollhunting mission on this fine Sunday afternoon. That is, until they came in sight of the bookstore. Jim felt that bitter feeling in his stomach again. He knew Y/n wasn’t working today. Douchey would be all alone. Now was his chance to confront this and end it before it got any worse. Toby noticed the malice in his eyes as he stomped towards the bookstore.

“Woah dude, what’re you doing?”

“I’m just going to have a little chat with Mr. Casperan that’s all.”

Toby threw his head back in exasperation. “There no talking you out of this is there?”

“Nope”

The bell jingled as they walked in. The bookshop smelled like Christmas. And Jim was about to try and talk politics with his racist uncle at the dinner table. Douxie came over and greeted them cheerily.

“Good afternoon, lads. Looking for any book in particular?”

“I’m not a part of this. I just happen to be with him physically.” Toby quickly asserted. Douxie quirked a brow at the odd statement. Jim pushed forward aggressively. Doux had the sense to back away from the boy.

“I’m onto you, wizard. Just what did you do to my sister? Did you slip her a love potion? Is that bracelet she’s been wearing charmed?” Jim growled. Toby cringed on the sidelines.

Douxie blinked. “Excuse me?”

“There’s no other explanation for your ‘relationship’. You’ve got to be magicking her. And I won’t just sit here and let it happen. That’s my sister and it’s my job to protect her from creeps like you.”

Douxie took in the boys words, and a deep breath. He tried his best not to sound too defensive and provoke the kid further, “Okay, wow. That’s quite an accusation there, friend.” He moved away from where the boy had backed him into a bookshelf. “You know, out of all that you just implied, the part I think I’m most offended by is the fact that you’d think I’d mess with Y/n’s free will like that.”

Douxie straightened some books on a nearby display. “You know Jim, when it comes to love-” Jim stormed out of the bookstore before Doux could take his lecture any further, grabbing Toby by the arm so he’d follow. Toby mouthed a big ‘I’m sorry’ to Doux as he was pulled out of the store.

***

Jim’s pencil felt abused. He was furiously scribbling the answers to his homework with a heavy hand. He still had a lot of pent up rage, even after accosting poor Doux. After snapping his lead for the seventh time in the hour, Jim decided that switching subjects to Spanish instead of math for a bit might help him calm down. He moved to his bed to start the assigned reading. He laid on his stomach, propping up his head in his hands to see his textbook. His blue eyes perused the paragraphs punctuated by cheesy cartoons. He was halfway through the third page when a knock came at his door. Taking a deep breath, he called for whoever it was to let themselves in. His sister stepped into view.

Jim ran a hand through his dark hair. Here comes the scolding. He didn’t even have to ask if Y/n had heard about what he’d done today. If Douxie himself hadn’t told her then Tobes certainly did. Jim wasn’t proud of it, now that it was all said and done. He knew he deserved whatever Y/n was about to dish out. He sat up and crisscrossed his legs. She pulled his desk chair over and sat backwards in it so that she was facing him on the bed.

That’s it. No scolding came. She just sat and looked at him, neutral faced. He squirmed at the nothing. She lifted up the coffee mug in her hands and took a slow sip, not breaking eye contact with him. Jim began to sweat. He tried to avoid her gaze by looking down at the floor, but he could still feel her eyes upon him. Sighing, he had to admit defeat.

“Okay, so I do feel bad about what I said to Douxie today.” He looked back up to meet Y/n’s eyes. She raised a brow. “It was wrong of me to jump to conclusions like that, I’m sorry.”

Y/n appeared to be satisfied by that. A smile spread across her face and she nodded to him. She stood up, and ruffled his hair on her way out. Still refusing to break her silence, she motioned for him to follow her downstairs.

***

Y/n set her coffee cup down on the table. She pulled another mug out of the cabinet for Jim. Grabbing the coffee pot from its nest under the coffeemaker, she filled Jim’s mug and topped off her own. Sliding the mug across the table to Jim, she sat down. Jim could smell the aromas of the several colorful dishes baking that he could see through the screen of the oven door. Strange, it was already half past nine. There was cinnamon in the air, so at least one of those dishes contained dessert. Jim’s stomach growled at the thought.

“You know I’m not the one you should have to apologize to, Jimbo.”

“I know, I know,” He looked at the ground, “I’ll go talk to him tomorrow after school.”

Silence filled the kitchen again. Y/n took a sip of coffee. This conversation was going to be hard. She wasn’t particularly looking forward to it. She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped. She took yet another long sip of coffee to figure out a good enough way to word this. She took a breath.

“So, uh- listen Jimbo. I- I know it’s tough, ya know, with it just being us. And our family’s tight because of it. But you can’t get so protective that new people can’t join it. Or even try.”

Jim took a breath, “I know it’s just, I-, what happens when we, when you, get so attached to him, and he decides that he doesn’t care for you anymore. When he turns out to be bad. When he just disappears. Like- like they do.”

“Oh, Jim,” She reached across the table for his hand. “That’s my risk to take, Jim. I fully recognize that what I’m doing is hazardous and I could get hurt really bad. But I still chose to do it. I choose it every day. We all do, when we fall in love.”

Jim took a sip and lingered, staring into his cup. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” He chuckled, “I know I’d be devastated if Claire ever wizened up and left me.”

“Look, you gotta trust me okay? Douxie isn’t dad or Strickler. I promise. He’s kind. I trust him. After you apologize, I think you really should start to make an effort to get to know him. If not for me, for Claire dude. And I think you’ll really like him. Promise you’ll give him a chance?”

Jim sighed in defeat. “Alright. I promise.”

She stood up and stretched out her back, making those stretching noises that people do. She checked the food in the oven. The buns were ready, but the quiche still needed a few minutes. She took out the pans and put them on the cooling rack. After fanning them for a few seconds, she turned to Jim, “So you want a spinach bun or a cinnamon bun?”

“How is that a question?” Jim laughed.

“Spinach bun it is then,” She teased as she tossed him the cinnamon one.

“What’s all this for anyway?” He gestured to the oven and the buns.

“Oh, uh, its actually for a date tonight?” She looked warry of how he’d react.

“Okay,” He guessed now would be as good a time as ever to start letting this go, “You crazy kids have fun.” Y/n laughed, relived.

Douxie had just finished up the sweeping and was ready to close up. As he headed to towards the front doors, he took one last look around the place to make sure he didn’t miss anything. All clean and tidy. Whoever opened tomorrow would appreciate it. He flipped the neon sign from open to nope and started locking up. Which is when his girlfriend pounced on him and almost gave him a heart attack. She just appeared out of thin air to tackle him into a hug. Scared the living daylights out of him. Y/n apologized profusely when she noticed him freak out but was still snickering between sorries so she probably didn’t mean it. He asked her just what the hell she was doing here and she picked up a picnic basket that was on the ground to show him.

“I just knew a certain wizard hadn’t eaten yet tonight.”

***

Y/n felt the ground beneath her back through the picnic blanket. The new spring growth had made them a cushion of sorts. Her head rested in the crook of Douxie’s shoulder as his arm was wrapped around her. It was nice here. Comfy. She could smell his hair and feel his chest move as he breathed. Their heartbeats made a nice rhythm to accompany the cricket song and the noise of the trees swaying. The stars were so lovely tonight. Stellar.

Douxie broke the quiet. “So I brushed up on my astrology.”

“Oh yeah?” Y/n quirked her brow. Astrology was one of her biggest interests. She’d loved it since her grandmother had given her a book about it when she was small. It was a well-worn, well-loved book. Her grandmother had handwritten things in the margins too. She’d been talking Douxie’s ears off about it during work earlier that week. Something was just so fascinating about how there were gorgeous balls of light in the sky that could tell you the future. There really was magic embedded in the fabric of the universe. It was sweet that he would care enough to learn about her interests. Very sweet indeed. The fact that he went out of his way just so he could talk to her about something she loved? Tooth-rotting. She wasn’t sure if her heart sped up because she was excited to talk about astrology or because of the sugar rush he just gave her.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve needed to look at constellations, we do have GPS now, but I think I remember enough,” He pointed to the sky, “That’s Pisces, right?”

“Yes!” Y/n couldn’t stop herself from smiling so wide her cheeks hurt.

“And that’s Aries, which marks the beginning of spring,” He looked back at Y/n who nodded to him, “oh, and look! We can see Venus tonight.”

“Hey Douxie, I love you. And You’re really making me want to kiss you right now.”

He chuckled and wiggled his eyes brows teasingly, “Ah, yes, I am aware of the effect I have.” She rolled her eyes and put her hand on his face to push him away. If he saw the blush creeping up on her, he’d just get flirtier. She wasn’t sure she could handle that. Something caught her eye and instantly stole her attention.

“Look! A shooting star! Make a wish Doux.” She pointed to the streak of light that flashed.

“I don’t need wishes when I’m here with you, Love.” If her face was pink before it was bright red now.

Y/n hid her face in her hands, “No! You were supposed to say something silly,” She came back up to look him in the eyes, “not something that makes me want to kiss you even more.”

He leaned his head in closer, “Well, what’s stopping you, Y/n”

Well, that was obviously a dare. She couldn’t not kiss him now. So she did. They melted into it instantly. At first it was sweet and slow, but they got a bit hungrier, and the kiss got a bit sloppier. Douxie smelled like the bookstore, Y/n loved the smell of the bookstore. It was everything safe in her life. He was everything safe in her life. Her best friend. He brought his hand up to cup her cheek. He loved how her lips just fit together with his perfectly. Y/n Lake was everything he’d been waiting for all these years. Soft and kind, with such a beautiful heart. Not to mention, a badass. Yet, even with all his ancient baggage, she still cared for him. Made him feel like new again. Out of all the wizards of Arcadia Oaks, she chose him. He still couldn’t believe it. They pulled apart way sooner than either of them wanted, but they did have to breathe, so it had to be done. Locked in Douxie’s gaze, Y/n broke the intensity to giggle.

“But really, I was setting you up for a joke. You know what you could have done with that, Doux?” She teased.

“I’ll remember that for next time, Love.”

“Ah, they’re super rare. This is the first time I’ve ever seen one in all my stargazing years.”

“Well, we’ve got plenty of time to see the next one. And the next one. All the shooting stars you want. Only seeing them every few decades could make them a special little thing for us.” He said so nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just implied that he expected their love to last for countless decades. As if it were a given. Suddenly it hit her. She could live thousands of years by his side. She would live thousands of years by his side. This was it. She wasn’t even sure humans could turn this vivid a shade of red. Y/n’s heart was gonna pop if it beat any harder.

“Stars, are you just hellbent on making me combust tonight? It too hot out here for this.” Douxie just laughed, a twinkle in his eye. She focused on her beloved stars to calm her down. She sighed, “The stars really are beautiful tonight.”

“You know what else is beautiful?”

“Me?”

“You- aww, you’ve heard that one.”

Y/n’s snort rung in the air. So, he does just have a bank of pick-up lines he’s pulling from. Interesting. Guess it must be tough having to be Arcadia’s most charming waiter. They stilled again. The comfortable silence embraced them. And they could have basked in it all night, if Douxie had not a burning question he had been waiting to ask his beloved.

“So- uh,” She looked to him expectedly, “Do you think there’s life out there?”

Y/n tried not to laugh too hard with Douxie’s very serious tone, “Yeah, yeah I do.”

Now it was Douxie’s turn to smile so wide his cheeks hurt. “Really?”

“Yeah,” She said, “I think it’d be kinda arrogant to assume that with all that vastness up there that we’re the only ones who exist.”

“That’s a really good point.” Douxie said excitedly. He pulled her tighter into his embrace and snuggled. “I think I’m going to use that on Zoe next time she tries to tell me that I’m crazy and aliens aren’t real.”

“Yeah Babe! Win that argument!” Y/n encouraged.

She peppered his face with kisses. That big smile stayed on his face as he closed his eyes in delight. He repaid her with a nose kiss. And she repaid that by starting another snogging session.

***

Little did they know that shoot star was really aliens akiriddion spaceship crash 3below wait shit the akiriddions landed in like season two and ive set this in one ugh just pretend like this makes sense hfhadhiufs

[astonishinglegends]

Ep 209: The Phantom Horse of Greensboro

And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth.

– Revelation, Chapter 6, Verse 8, King James Version

Description:

Many of us have taken an adventurous expedition to check out some local, notorious spot to see if we could witness or sense some evidence of a past famous or infamous incident.  Most of the time, one only returns with a minor anecdote or pictures of an ordinary location bereft of anything noteworthy.  The more realistic purpose is not so much to find a ghoulish memento but to imagine what it must've been like to have been there when it happened.  But what if such an outing starts with strange coincidences and ends with the adventurers enduring a paranormal event seemingly unrelated to the original incident?  This is the sort of tale we'll hear from our good friend, graphic designer, and illustrator Tommy Beaver about the time some friends went to check out the scene of a horrific crime that happened in Summerfield, North Carolina, almost 13 miles northwest of Greensboro.  On June 3, 1985, the incident in question occurred when at the end of a murder spree and police pursuit, Fritz Klenner and his first cousin, lover, and accomplice, Susie Newsome Lynch, ended their standoff detonating a bomb in their Chevrolet Blazer.  Klenner and Lynch had blown themselves up along with Lynch's already deceased two sons who were in the vehicle rather than face arrest.  The site of this shocking finale was what the friends were hoping to explore, but their souvenir was an unsettling experience they'll never forget.  Strangely, a mysterious white horse suddenly appeared to encounter the group, except that this creature may not have been a horse at all.  Many people have claimed to see a spectral white horse, and the ancient Britons believed a sacred white horse was one's ride to the afterlife.  Yet these friends may forever wonder, as will we, what was the connection of this beast to the tragedy if there is one?  And if this wasn't a horse as we know it, what sort of monster haunts the location of one of North Carolina's most ghastly crimes?

Location:

The intersection of Strader Road & North Carolina State Road 150 in Summerfield, near where Fritz Klenner and Susie Newsom Lynch blew themselves up in their Chevy Blazer after a crime spree and police pursuit on June 3, 1985, and where Tommy’s friends saw the mysterious “horse.”

Location Video:

Reference Links:

Illustrator and Graphic Designer Tommy Beaver’s website, tommybeaverdesign.com

“Summerfield slaughter 30 years ago ended in deaths of couple, two sons” from the Greensboro News & Record

Bitter Blood: A True Story of Southern Family Pride, Madness, and Multiple Murder, a novel by Jerry Bledsoe, 1988

The púca, pooka, phouka of Irish/Celtic folklore

The kelpie of Scottish folklore

“Horses in Celtic Mythology” from Transceltic.com

“Have ghost HORSES been captured on video? Teenagers believe they spotted ethereal equine scene at one of Britain's most haunted sites” from DailyMail.co.uk

“Phantom Horses” on real-british-ghosts.com

Related Books:

Please help out our good friend Stan Gordon, by purchasing his books on Amazon and Barnes & Noble – you’re gonna love ‘em!

At Barnes & Noble:

Silent Invasion: The Pennsylvania UFO-Bigfoot Casebook

Astonishing Encounters: Pennsylvania’s Unknown Creatures, Casebook 3

Really Mysterious Pennsylvania: UFOs, Bigfoot, and Other Weird Encounters, Casebook 1

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Credits:

Episode 209: The Phantom Horse of Greensboro. Produced by Scott Philbrook & Forrest Burgess; Audio Editing by Sarah Vorhees Wendel. Sound Design by Ryan McCullough; Tess Pfeifle, Producer, and Lead Researcher; Research Support from the astonishing League of Astonishing Researchers, a.k.a. The Astonishing Research Corps, or "A.R.C." for short. Copyright 2021 Astonishing Legends Productions, LLC. All Rights Reserved.